This week

In another continent, people have taken to the streets calling for the resignation of a president who has been in power for as long as I have put up with this world and all its crap. That's a helluva long time, I tell you. My friend, Jae, has decided to change her profile pic from an I'm-a-fashionable-geek photo to one that shows her on the street holding up a piece of paper that says "Mubarak game over." I am tempted to write a blog about freedom and democracy just to respond to so many friends who say this country of jaywalking, boozing and late-coming people needs a dictator who will whip misbehavior out of everyone and show the way to progress but I'm not going to do that. First, because it's a bit geeky. Second, because if I tried to respond, I wouldnt know where to begin and how to stop. Third, because we should give the spotlight and our full support to Egypt. I will however tell you a brief story about a foreigner who said that the best thing about the AM radio is that it doesnt rob people of imagination, which supposedly TV does. That's what you get when you live in a country where the government writes the news on air and in print so the only accurate thing you can gather from the media is the traffic report. The best thing about the radio is the news, dude. In this country, at least.


So that's what's going in Egypt. Not much here in my room at exactly 11:30 on the 6th of February. I worked only two days this week because of an embarrassingly bad cough that has kept me cooped up in my room with absolutely nothing to do but close my eyes and imagine far more interesting things waiting on my doorstep. My computer has been acting up lately; I can't hear anything from my earphones or my speakers. My DVD player is broken. And although I vowed to finish 1984, it's just way too geeky. (Many times when I was home alone and idle, it called me for more discussion on the idea that war is peace, freedom is slavery and so on but I managed to intimidate it into shutting up. And so again, I close my eyes and see what bundle of joy awaits on my doorstep.)


I dont feel like being geeky eight days before Valentines Day, which is by the way NOT just another day. The way things are going I am NOT going to have a date -- AGAIN! And I'm not going to get any more text messages reading "V-DAY sucks" to which I can respond "Down with VDAY!" because Dianne is happily married.


I am so sad. There are only four reasons that I am not absolutely depressed. First, it's a little off to be so down when the world has bigger problems: for one, Egypt needs to be free (Must not be self-centered.) Second, I have reason to believe I will enjoy the book after 1984 (Must look forward to better things.) Third, I am just never depressed. And finally, because the world can be a pretty messed up place but not when I close my eyes.

Christmas Eve

Because crowds can make a person feel even more alone sometimes, it can be very nice indeed to sit around by oneself, close one’s eyes and imagine that it is a busy afternoon of roasting chicken, cooking spaghetti and making salads.

A little girl is sneaking into the kitchen to make herself her fourth or fifth ham sandwich with butter and cheese. Her mother tells her to stop that right now or else she won’t touch her dinner. Irritated, she yells back that she will touch her dinner. The father laughs and tells his wife to leave the child alone. She flashes her mother a very triumphant smile and walks away with her food. Her father's Christmas wish is for the teeny weenie girl to gain some weight and to be good for at least thirty percent of the next year.

There is an old but large green Christmas tree with silver bells and angels in the living room. The little girl likes the presents under the tree from relatives and friends but what she really wants for Christmas is a baby brother – interestingly enough, not a baby sister but that would have probably been just as well.

One of the neighbors has a spectacular stereo with a set of speakers blasting Christmas Carols into the street. Pasko na naman, the song goes. Come eight or nine, they will be calling the kids in the block for an exchange of gifts so her mother dresses her up in a pretty dress, warning her against spaghetti, chocolate and mud stains then sends her off to the street party. The little girl knows she is going to get something lame again like a picture frame or a photo album but it doesn’t really matter. It’s one more piece of wrapping paper to tear apart with gusto and doing that always feels fantastic.

She puts that one present under the Christmas tree with silver bells and angels. She knows unwrapping them will have to wait until after the Christmas Mass which will start off with a very long and frankly not very interesting reenactment of birth of Christ. The little girl has always imagined that moment to be more magical than a bunch of amateur actors giving gifts to some plastic baby in a manner that is very perfunctory actually. The very moment the three kings appear on the make-shift stage, the little girl wishes she were at home and eating ham.

Because Noche Buena at home is always something else. It’s two kinds of ham (one sweet and one Chinese), some spaghetti (the only dish her mother can properly make), leche flan, fruits of all kind, some salad, hot dogs with marshmallows, bread with butter or cheese, roasted chicken and hot chocolate. The little girl’s grandmother is so good at preparing food that a plate of bihon with some bread on the side always looks very special indeed. It’s the touch of green and red garnish on top that makes the difference. Or maybe not. The little girl can never be sure why but everything is a little nicer when lola makes it.

Christmas songs are still blasting from the neighbor’s speakers; the adults are now pressing the girl to open her presents. The little girl’s father secretly wishes and he probably does every year that he could give her exactly what she wants but that’s not always possible. She tears every piece of wrapping paper with extra excitement anyway. He and his wife are glad.

The little girl goes to bed a few hours past midnight. There is no real need to wait for Santa. The little girl knows it is Christmas enough with this many angels looking after her.