Lost in Translation

My friend J and I met up last Friday. She and another friend K are going to run while I run to the shops. He he he. My credible excuse is that my old and trusty running shoes died on me the night of my last jog. 

We went on our separate ways in High Street and just agreed to meet for dinner after our own activities. On our way to Slice in High Street Central, retail haven Mango beckons us. Off we enter despite our grumbling bellies. 

Inside a member of J's team was there; let's call her M. So, instead of looking around she had a small chat with her. Here's an excerpt of their conversation. 

 M: Ma'am nag-dinner na ba kayo? Halika treat ko. (I'll treat you to dinner, Ma'am.)

J: 'Di pa pero huwag mo na kaming abalahin. (Never mind. Don't bother us.) 

M left a little baffled. J on one hand came to me and ask, "I told her huwag na akong abalahin. I think it didn't come across right. I wanted to tell her something else that sounds the same but what I said came out differently. 

I burst out laughing. I couldn't help it. I think what my friend wanted to say was "huwag ka nang mag-abala" (don't bother/trouble yourself).

And so she's like yeah that's what I wanted to say. We ended up laughing our heads off. And J has to send her (M) a text message to apologize and explain that she got lost in translation. 

P.S. J and I aren't native speakers of the Filipino (the national language) so you can imagine how we grapple at times with certain words and nuances of the language. In my dialect, a langgam (bird) flies but in Manila, a langgam (ant) crawls.

XX

Sheng

Hope and disappointment

Sometimes the universe holds back on you. And nothing conspires to make your day. Today, I have one of those days. I saw it coming but it still made me sad. And then, I get reminded of this. 

Source: Pinterest

The challenges that overwhelm us today are not meant to put us down but to give us reason to rise from the difficulty. Whatever circumstance we are in, there is that glimmer of light that shows us to hope for the breaking of dawn... of a new day. 

To anyone who might be a little blue, sad, broke and unwell, the universe is just taking a wee bit of time to change your status quo. 

Cheer up! And may the force be with you. 

XX, 

Sheng

'He's kicked the bucket'

Five years ago today, I wrote this entry on my multiply blog. To you uncle, know that you're still loved and remembered. On your death anniversary, you may have prodded me a little because I sought this out in the archives of the internet -- out of the blue. And only by checking the blog entry date that I am reminded that it's been five years since. 

***

I realized today how fleeting life is. I am so morose today as I contemplate on the mortality of man.

 

My uncle who seemed very healthy just died at dawn today. He had just came out of the hospital after a diagnosis of stage 3 cancer. 

I cried when his daughter told me on the phone; my cousin felt that in his last days he was able to mend his broken relationships. Among those people he had not spoken to in years was me. I remembered that it was one Christmas when he said something that hurt me. I didn't bear a grudge but pride got in the way. I thought to myself that if he wouldn't want to talk, fine with me. I was very indifferent. 

For some strange reason, I included him in my shopping list last Christmas. I sent my gift for him through his son on Christmas day though, he lives just a stone's throw away from me, in fact, just a house away from ours. Then on the eve of new year, he made a huge effort to invite us to share media noche in his house. We had fun and really a great time partaking of the roasted suckling pig. 

More than anything, what made it so great was the fact that we had taken down the walls between us. He hugged me tight and I hugged him back. His eyes were clouding with tears while I was choked with emotion. No word of apologies were needed between us. We both understood it was the only thing we needed.

I was his favorite niece and in spite of our differences when I entered adulthood, still he is my favorite uncle. He has left us on this earth mourning for our loss. I just hope and pray that he is going to a place where he will be happier and there is no more pain to pierce his ailing body. 

I didn't know how real it is when people say that death is like a thief in the night until today.You never know when it is coming. No appointments made prior to the visit.  I thought I still have ample time to see him again and converse with him just like what we used to do. 

So, we need to work so hard at building meaningful relationships. And that grudges should not be allowed to take over your life. For life is so fleeting. When the one we love crosses over to another world, it would be too late to realize their value in our lives. By then, we are already robbed of the opportunity to see the joy in their face when they're finally unburdened of the cross they are carrying. 

I am going to miss him terribly. I can only wish I could ease the pain of his passing with a good dose of crying. But I know it wouldn't be that easy. My only consolation is the knowledge that today, I have another angel who watches over me. He has joined my grandma in heaven. 

P.S. My Lolo shortly followed my Lola. 

When  am honest enough, I think of the missed opportunity to care and show my dear departed loved ones how appreciated and loved they are. It is my hope that each of us take extra effort for the loved ones that are still with us today. For life is mercifully short and death comes like a thief in the night. 

XX

Sheng

 

Being 30

I stumbled on this blog entry in Multiply that I wrote five years ago. I didn't realize that my account there is still active. And here's one of the musings I had back then on crossing to the Big 3-0.

****

Summer is just a few days shy from showing up with the glorious sunshine in tow. And when it's over, it will herald a new beginning. A new chapter for me. It's not just the season that is changing, you see. I, too will turn a new leaf.
 

As the clock ticks by, I feel the need to breathe in the moments of breathtaking snapshots of the remaining days of being a twenty-something. Looking back, I feel the poignant repose of a giddy child full of mischief, the bratty teen who feels that the world is at her disposal, a fresh graduate who seemed to be so full of herself, so sure of her niche in the world, and of a young adult caught in a crossroad of life's realities. 

When I was an impressionable child, I was introduced to the fantastic world of literature. I devoured Filipino folklore, cruised never-land in a never-ending story and wished to see the world of the boy who refused to grow up. I read like there was no tomorrow and I played like there was no today. We ran like we were in the Olympics and climbed trees as if we were climbing the tallest mountains. The games were played in the stadium of our yard. 

Growing up is a challenge when I was cocooned in the safe world of the books littered on my bed. I shunned building relationship as I felt I had enough in my make-believe world. I cannot be bothered to open my window for fear of being interrupted of an uninterrupted weekend reading pleasure. If the written word has nutritional value, it would have satiated my physical hunger. 

And this was a time of searching for identity. A time when I wanted to rewrite the history of my lineage. A time when I would have traded anything and everything to be someone else. Such are the insatiable need of a twisted mind in a teen's world full of angst.  

And then, I grew up a little too fast. I thought that if I could map out the course of my life, I would be guaranteed safe passage towards my destination. Adulthood is a crazy journey. It is a maze of hits and misses. It is a crossing over to the responsible realm. 

It meant searching and finding meaningful relationships. And realizing that heart aches and disappointments are on the same side to an otherwise 'perfect' bond. Love has cost me several limbs inasmuch as it fixed a broken one. A childhood hurt has found solace in the knowledge that I am loved, beyond compare by a higher being. And if being an adult made a mark, it would be learning to love unconditionally a family whom you've never chosen but has chosen to be there for you.

When others are marking their lives by the successes they have reaped; I am marking mine with the people who have touched my life. I have what I call my guide posts. These are people who made an impression in my way of thinking, in shaping my self-worth and strengthening my character. 

If I were to draw my life, it would never be as straight as the one I would have wanted. It is marred with tears, scarred with hurt but decorated with a full-bloomed garden of love. 

It shaped, re-shaped and molded who I am today and what I hope for in the future. Some may not know how much I have learned from them, some will never have a chance of knowing for they have passed the threshold of the earth and some may know my gratitude for occupying a space in my heart. As to when it would happen, only time can tell. I have yet to find the courage to reveal my deepest thoughts to them. 

Like the solitary tree in the middle of my high school's ground, my journey is taken with much space to grow and a breath of fresh air to breathe the beauty of life... to live and be fully alive. 

XX 

Sheng 

The bicycle and my aunt

Today, I caught myself thinking about my aunt. All throughout the day, she's been going in and out of my consciousness. There were moments in between that I found myself in a daydream.

My Tita Goring practically raised me. She was my first teacher. She taught me how to read. She introduced me to kikay stuff like getting me a vanity set when I was in primary school. She gave me my first boutonniere-- a picture of a Menudo member. They were cool back then. 

And then she taught me to drive a bicycle. At seven years old, it was sort of a rite of passage for kids in my province. We used the open field of my elementary school to practice. I had my exhilarating ride there, bruises and wounds. And we had the most beautiful backdrop. All the santan flower in their beds are blooming because it was summer. And the majestic acacia trees seemed to approve of the kids' activities as they bowed their leaves to serve as a canopy; shielding us from the harsh afternoon sun. 

Ok, I wasn't this chic back then. And until now. But you get the drift, eh?

Since then, I'd ride my mountain bike wherever I go. Even if it's just in the nearby market to buy a few pieces of eggs. But I'd also remember that it took me a long time to cycle back to our house. You see, I'd always stop whenever there's a car on the road. Am deathly afraid that it would crush me. 

And then the years just flew by. Am now a married woman. And my Tita is still at home. She doesn't have her good sight anymore. In fact it's the reason she gave why she didn't attend my wedding. She just stayed in her hotel room. Good thing her room had a balcony. She was able to see from afar the ceremony. But not the reception. 

And I forgot to thank her in my little speech. In the whirlwind of things, it slipped from my mind. 

From my reverie born the strongest of desires to go home. See her; listen to her endless stories and complaints. And bring her little joys like sweets and her vitamins. Right now, am looking at promo fares. Sigh. I think I sorely miss my family back home. 

No amount of cosmopolitan living can override the provincial life I temporarily left behind. For always, I'd catch myself drifting back... time after time.