When I came home today after work, I was so hungry, I decided to cook chicken pot pie, with extra chicken breast cubes. The pot pie is in a box, frozen. I almost put the pot pie in the microwave, with the box still intact. Wait, can you call that cooking? Using a microwave? Partly so, because I had to cube and cook the extra chicken breast cubes before I would mix it into the pie.
Then I almost put the gallon of milk in the cabinet, instead of the refrigerator. Fortunately, I caught myself on both occasions. Otherwise, we would have had spoiled milk and the house on fire with that box burning up in the microwave. Whoa! I think in Filipino, they call that nawawala?
I've seen a lot of my relatives and friends go nawawala. Well, almost that. Theirs were worst, because they were to the brink of losing themselves because of the stress and hardships. But this is one strength of our Filipino culture. Despite the struggle, Filipino people have the knack for survival, bringing them back to enjoy life once again.
My mom, for sure, is a strong woman. She had a drunk and a compulsive gambler for a husband, three kids who were gang members, a son who was so quiet, and me, the bipolar, multipolar, son. Actually, I was the one she looked to, when she was down. But she struggled with an absent husband, and five ghetto kids to feed, while holding jobs and paying off the bills. She is the essence of the Filipino woman. I admire her for that. Her rewards, five strong kids who are able to help her out now, and a husband who has changed his ways.
Yes, we Pinoys struggle. Even with the mere incomes that we have, we can still make a life worth living. At the end of the day, we can still sing our karaokes/videokes and sing the night away, only to face another tough day. We do it, day in and day out, hoping that all these struggles will lead to greater and brighter future. That is another strength; we have hope. We are a very hopeful people. Konting tiis na lang. Konting tiis.
When I was in the Philippines last year, I walked from my condo across Greenbelt One, to Glorietta, to SM to the MRT. It was hot and humid. By the time I got to the monorail, I was soaking wet, hot and bothered, and not in the sexual way. I always thought, I do this once and I'm so discomforted and would not want to do it ever again. How did these people, and there were thousands of them, do it every single day. That is strength. That is survival. Go Pinoy!
Boy, that chicken pot pie was good. I'm found again. Maybe I was just too hungry.
Friday, September 01, 2006
I believe in love, justice, equality, and life. I believe in the pursuit of happiness. Above all else, I believe in God. I started blogging since since August 18, 2006. I am not the same person I was once. My thoughts, perspectives, and opinions are different now.