Monday, June 26, 2006
a beautiful and simple day
Today I was assigned by my father to distribute about 300 flyers around the neighbourhood, so I put on my new favorite hat, got my iPod and went from house to house, all around our suburb. It was like a meet and greet. I felt like I was making friends with this little corner of the earth, trying to get it to speak to me, trying to make it seem less new, and foreign, and lonely.
So I communed with each house. Hello, house! There must be children living inside you. Just look at all those toys on your lawn. Here's a flyer for you! And what about this house? My, my a motorcycle in your driveway. And are those bean bag chairs I spy through your livingroom window? You are obviously inhabited by a man, single I'd say. I hope you don't mind that I drop a flyer into your mailbox. And you over there with the perfectly immaculate, manicured lawn. Just look at all those pairs of shoes scattered outside the front door. It's an anti-shoe house. White, wall-to-wall carpeting, most likely. Not a place for children. Perhaps a childless couple lives here.
I saw things today. Silvery trails the slugs left on the sidewalk during the night. Rainbow birds that exposed a stunning spot of red on their backs whenever they flew. The way the birds in formation in the sky become big white specks, then narrow brown specks, depending on which way they are angled towards you. Two grey rabbits hiding by a hedge. The shadows of the small pebbles on the sidewalk. The bikey that lives on Perkins who always seems to be washing his car. The other neighbourhood boy who was kind of cute, even though blondes aren't my thing, and he's probably my little brother's age and not even all that cute upclose.
Then there were the mailboxes. There were simple ones, and expensive ones, and discreet ones, and ostentatious ones, and some that looked as if their owners had put alot of thought into them. I saw every single type of mailbox my neighbourhood had today. I walked around for an hour and a half without stopping (oh, the wonderful soreness in my joints), and afterwards I felt like the suburb was a new friend that I had gotten to know quite intimately.
As soon as I reached my drive way, I saw the sunset. My reward for an afternoon's work! I stayed for thirty minutes and watched a giant egg yolk fall unto purple coals set ablaze. It was so wondrous.
Every time I see a sunset, I tell myself "This is the most beautiful one I have ever seen and I'm going to paint it." Then the next day I see another one and I say the same thing. Sometimes I take a picture so I'll remember that this is the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen and that I want to paint it. Then when I'm about to paint, I look at the photo for reference and realize that it's just a downgraded version of what I saw. Then I throw the picture away because I'd rather remember the sunset, not the picture.
Interesting how memory works. We remember moments of our lives like we're watching a movie of our selves, a character on the screen. We remember 1st person experiences in the 2nd person. Our mental pictures are incongrous with our actual experiences! How then can our memories be real? They're made up! And if our memories are invented, then what is the past? The past only exists in memories, and memories are pictures we create in our heads. And so, the only thing that's real is what see, here, now.
Nevertheless, I like to perform this mental exercise sometimes. I try to remember something, let's say high school. My brain automatically starts playing a movie of myself in high school. I see myself walking through the halls in my uniform, entering my classroom, sitting in my chair. Then I try to shift mentally and try to imagine things more accurately, in the first person, as it really happened. I am no longer watching a movie of myself, but seeing things through my own eyes. I see my hands resting on my desk, the right hand gripping a pencil and doodling on a sheet of intermediate pad. I try to smell the classroom smell: sweat, wood varnish, cheap cologne, floorwax, dust, the broom closet. I don't know why I do this. I guess it's to remind myself that it is my own mind that shapes my perception of the past.
Anyway, back to the sunset. I can never turn my back on one. It makes me feel like the world is new and beautiful every single day. When I gaze at one, I feel like God is saying to me "Psssst", and "I'll let you in on a secret, but only if you have the the patience, and only if you're very, very observant".
So I stay because I want to know the secret, and this sunset starts to unfold before my eyes. Watching sunsets always makes me feel like I'm looking through a rip in the fabric of reality, and through the rip, I get a glimpse of the universe laid bare, it's inner workings, all it's wheels and cogs. It's overwhelming. I can think of a thousand meanings for a sunset, and at the same time I know I'll never understand what it really means. And I feel like the sun is setting especially for me, because I have the patience to stay and listen to the secret that it wants to tell me. I've heard the secret whispered to me to so many times and I still don't know what it means. The sun sets, and with a final wink, God seals the perforation in the fabric. I go back indoors with no new answers, only new questions.
Atheists both baffle and amuse me. I can't understand how anyone can be willing to throw the entire mystery away into the rubbish bin, because "reason" can't explain it. What a royal waste, what a loss! "Reason will be able to explain it all someday", they say. What is this whole thing with separating God from reason, anyway? Why does it have to be God versus creation? I think God is the universe, every little atom of it, and He's also everything beyond it.
They say small minds turn to God because they're afraid of what they can't understand. I think small minds deny God and cling to reason because they're afraid that if they open the door even a crack to mystery, the whole universe will come flooding in and overwhelm them... which is a funny thing to be afraid of because we're part of this universe. It's like a drop of water being afraid of drowning in the ocean.
Anyway, back to the sunset. If you missed out on today's show, you can always catch tomorrow's show, or the day after tommorow. It's free anyway.
So yes, it was a beautiful and simple day.
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at 8:09 PM 19 Comments!
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
repetition
A comparative analysis of the 3 most challenging experiences of my life.
I. Oxbridge Summer Academic Program, Oxford University, 1999
I was there taking summer courses in drama and philosophy, while dorming on campus with a bunch of kids my age from all over the world.
I remember feeling so lost and invisible. I was amidst people who neither knew or cared about my background. Everyone seemed better than me, or at least seemed to know what they were doing. I felt small, timid, and suddenly so unsure of myself. I met intimidating people who implied I couldn't make it or wasn't good enough to be there. I believed them because they seemed to know so much better than I did.
In the end, they turned out to be either egotists who liked to talk too big and too loud, or people who were just as afraid as I was. I got the lead role in our Shakespearian play, wont the "Most Oustanding Student" award in my drama class, and walked off with great friends, and with some of the greatest memories of my life.
By the time it was over, I felt like I had grown ten times bigger as a person. Looking back, I could have done so much more if I wasn't so full of doubt.
II. Ateneo de Manila University, freshman year, 2000
I was fresh out of high school and was starting my first year in university.
I remember feeling so lost and invisible. I was amidst people who neither knew or cared about my background. Everyone seemed better than me, or at least seemed to know what they were doing. I felt small, timid, and suddenly so unsure of myself. I met intimidating people who implied I couldn't make it or wasn't good enough to be there. I knew that I knew better than they did, but for awhile, their words did get to me and it stung.
I thought they were bullies who just wanted to antagonize me for no reason, but in the end, they turned out to be people who were just as afraid as I was; not monsters, just weak human beings. By the time college ended, I had kicked off my TV and modeling career, had gone farther than I ever thought I would in all aspects of my life, found the most wonderful friends in the world, and walked off with some of the greatest memories of my life.
By the time it was over, I felt like I had grown ten times bigger as a person. Looking back, I could have done so much more if I wasn't so full of doubt.
III. Migrating to Australia, 2006
I left behind a thriving TV and modeling career, a band, my loved ones, and everything that took 22 years to build up.
I feel so lost and invisible. I am amidst people who neither know or care about my background. Everyone seems better than me, or at least seems to know what they are doing. I feel small, timid, and suddenly so unsure of myself. I've met intimidating people who imply I can't make it or that I'm not good enough to be here. But I know better than they do.
I am tempted to think ill of them but I know I shouldn't. Most of them are just people who probably had it worse than I did in the beginning, and just want to feel how far they've come. Mostly, they mean well (or at least I hope so) and are only human.
Whatever happens, this time, I won't doubt myself so much.***Each experience is a bigger version of a previous experience.
Each new cycle is a chance to renew yourself, correct old mistakes, and upgrade old patterns of thinking.
The cycle repeats and repeats only stops when you've learned everything you need to learn. When you've perfected it, only then can you begin a new cycle.
Listen to others, but don't always take their words at face value. Try to see where they're coming from so that you'll know what they're really trying to say.
You will meet people who will always try to paint the world around you as scarier, meaner, and more complicated than it really is. This may reflect their own experience. But your experience is always a different one.
Alot of the time, fear is really just fear.EB-ing
Every single friend I've made here are people I've met through the internet (except Lucy :-p). I find this funny. Isn't the net supposed to be the most dangerous place to meet people? Haven't we repeatedly been bombarded with tales of psychos, pedophiles, and serial killers preying on net-savy denizens like myself?
I haven't met any pedophiles or serial killers, only other psycho Pinoys like myself. I've had quite a few EBs (i.e. personal meetings with people you find on the net) since I got here. Some of them were unlikely coincidences, both of us being at the same place at the same time, while others we're more planned. What a small world this is. What would I do without the internet?
Today's EB brought me to Hyde Park for the Sydney Musicfest. Despite the rain, I made the excursion in all excitement, eager to drink in the sounds of live percussion, electric guitar feedback, kick-ass bass, and scratchy amps.
But as it was, this highly anticipated Musicfest turned out to be non-existent. Nobody knew why. It just wasn't there.
So after having lunch at a nearby Italian cafe where all the waiters spoke Italian and flirted shamelessly with the female patrons, I and my two newfound net-friends decided to go shopping instead. :-D
And I was able to get these pictures. Never realized Hyde Park was so lovely. Silly me thought that the Darlinghurst side was all of it (little did I know that it was ten times bigger than that).
Kaka!
Thought I'd let you go without mention of my current obsession, did you? My friend wrote me a Kaka poem:Ala, the Fickle World Cup Fan
Crushes on Tim Cahill
Until he loses to Brazil
Casts her gaze on Kaka
'cuz he's a better playa'
Gotta' feel sorry for Tim
His chances with Ala are slim
Now Kaka must prove worthy
By winning the World Cup Trophy
- Franz Co
I've Googled him, Wiki-ed him, read his blog, and have even gone to Kakafans.net. I've even seen his wedding pictures (although I could only stomach two).
I'm acting like an adolescent fan girl and I am not ashamed!!!
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Monday, June 19, 2006
Kaká-in-love, Kaká-loka!!!
I change my mind! It is no longer Cahill I love, but Kaká !!!
I love you, you awesome, beautiful, amazing, magical soccer player, you! Beautiful playing, and a beautiful player! Kaká, you are the bonito in "Joga Bonito"! Go, Brasil!
Admittedly, Australia did put up a noble fight. Despite that they couldn't score a goal, they did manage to make team Brasil sweat; and it's still better than prostrating themselves on the field before Ronaldhino and shouting, "We're not worthy! We're not worthy!" (which is what I would have done).
Ok, I'm kidding. Be very proud of yourselves, Socceroos!
And that's all I really have to say for today. (I love Kaká!)
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Thursday, June 15, 2006
Fi-fafa!!!
If you do not recognize this man, then you're either not in Australia, or haven't been watching TV.
I'm totally loving all this FIFA madness, even if I've never cared about soccer or the World Cup in my entire life. That's what happens when you grow up in a basketball-worshipping nation. Since I'm a FIFA virgin, I've spent the past week trying to catch up on stock knowledge. I read the news, I watch TV, andI try to keep up to date. I want to be part of the whole damn, crazy thing. Call me a poser. But it's fun and it gives me something to be excited about.
It all started when I would catch brief glimpses of Cahill on TV for an entire week. Tired of not knowing who he was, I forced my brother watch TV with me one night so I could point out my gwapo, soccer crush *hihihihi*! We didn't see Cahill at all, but we did manage to catch this awesome documentary called "Ginga" by Fernando Meirelles (director of "City of God") about soccer in Brasil. And that's when it started (watch the video, and you will see why). And if you've watched the video, you will know why I initially chose to support the Samba Boys. It's all about the ginga, man! Astig sila!
Sorry, Australia, being here for 3 months doesn't compell me to root for your soccer team. If it's going to be my first FIFA year, I'm going to side with the team that wins!!!
But some unsettling discoveries have arisen since I made my decision. One very important factor that contributed to my siding with Brazil was that I wanted to root only for cute players (pakialam ko ba sa soccer, noh!). This was made on the assumption that Brasil had the best-looking players, which turned out to be false and somewhat of a hasty generalization. Though the country is known for regularly manufacturing Giselles and Adriana Limas, the same principle does not hold true for their soccer team. Upon examining them up close, it turns out that they're not cute after all (except Kaka, but only when he's blurry).
My dismay over these findings, coinciding with my discovery of soccer-crush's identity (Cahill, Cahill!) now make me want to give Australia a second chance. But the presence of one cute player on the Socceroos is still not enough for me to bestow my allegiance on them. I want to WIN!!!
The Aus- Brazil game this weekend will be my deciding factor. Beat Brazil, and I am most definitely yours, Socceroos, body and soul! (Whatever. Kakatayin kayo, mwahahahah!!!)
Pero gwapo ka parin!<3
Ole! Play beautiful!lazy daze-y
You might have already guessed that I don't really make sense right now. I'm too dazed and lazy to make sense, after being on the go for two days straight. I don't think I've been this busy since I got here. This week in Oz has been one of my most interesting so far.
This week I was dislered.
Ah yes, always the guinea pig.
My sister did the make-up, my dad took the pictures. We're not allowed to charge each other :-p My dad posted more pics here.
Sydney through a bubble- at Circular Quay last Monday!
My first job in Australia at SBS Radio (I'm still not regularly employed though)
And today I put my Ateneo Commuications degree to good use by helping film a corporate event at the Hilton. My main job consisted of pressing the "record" button on the video camera. Hahaha! That's Ateneo for you, baby.
I've got a couple other odd jobs lined up for me. It's not stable employment yet but it's paying my bills. Till then, buhay raketista na muna. ;-)
And now, this tired but fullfilled little girl will get some much needed sleep.
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Sunday, June 11, 2006
look, it's our man!
So there I was outside Central Station, Chalmer's St, waiting for my friends Mel and Carlo to pick me up for some Mexican food, and leafing through the latest issue of Australian Rolling Stone under the light of a flower vendor's stall. I was there in the city partly to escape the loneliness and inertia that was beginning to grip me in the suburbs. It was 6:30 PM, and freezing cold. The flower vendor began to close his shop down, and so I decided to stroll casually up the street.
Lo and behold! There was a mini plaza hidden away behind the train station, with about 15 bronze busts of heroic, dead people I didn't know, each with their own accompanying metal plaque. At the risk of appearing like a tourist, I decided to read what written on each plaque to pass the time.
The bronze dead guys turned out to be Latin- American heroes; intellectuals and guerilla fighters alike who had liberated Chile, Peru, Bolivia, Uruguay, etc. And right as I was thinking how strange it was to have a Latin monument smack in the middle of Sydney, what came next was even stranger. On the plaque below the 6th or 7th dead guy, I read the name *** "Dr Jose Protacio Rizal, liberator of the Phili..."- say WHAT???
I read it again to make sure my eyes weren't fooling me: "Dr Jose Protacio Rizal". I looked up at the bronze bust and sure enough, there he was with his trademark mustache and sideswept hairstyle.
What I felt next was a mix of "Oh wow" and "What the...?". What was a bust of Rizal doing among Latin American revolutionaries? Was this a geography lesson gone horribly wrong? Did whoever comissioned this monument think the Philippines was in South America? I scratched my head (which is such a typical Filipino thing to do).
So I searched around for another plaque that might be able to explain all this, and I found it at one end of the plaza. It said I was in the "Ibero American Plaza", and it explained that the monument was erected to pay tribute to all Spanish and Portugese speaking people who had contributed to Australia.
I didn't know what to make of that. Not that Rizal didn't deserve to have his effigy there among the others. It just seemed odd to have him peeking out amongst Bolivians and Chileans, people that actually speak Spanish to this day. "Noli Me Tangere", "El Filibusterismo", and just about all his important works were written in Spanish, so does that mean the world reveres him more as a speaker of Spanish than as a speaker of Tagalog? Then again, perhaps Rizal was there because Latin American history mirrors so much of our own.
Whatever the case, I found myself walking down the rest of that empty plaza with a huge smile on my face, and feeling pretty damn proud. Being away from your country makes you extra patriotic like that, even if you're one of those who slept through history class, and even if the thought of visiting Luneta Park never crossed your mind once when you used to live in Manila.
They say that no matter where a Filipino goes in the world, he'll always bump into a kababayan. Maybe I bumped into Rizal that night to remind myself why I decided to leave my life and come here. Loneliness and boredom can weaken your morale and make you forget why. Jose Rizal spent time out of the Philippines, too. I wonder if he ever felt displaced and lonely, as well. But the important thing is that he came back with a mission. I hope being here somehow helps me find my own.
Finally, Mel and Carlo arrived. I asked them if they knew there was a statue of Jose Rizal outside Central Station. "Really?", said Carlo. "How come I've never seen it?".
"Yep, meron", said Mel. "Kaunti lang ang may nakakaalam niyan."
*** I can't remember exactly what the plaque said save for Rizal's name, so I embellished that part of this entry. I do remember it mentioning that he was the first to think of us as a nation of "Filipinos" instead of different, scattered provinces. Someone told me afterwards that there is a street in Glebe named after Rizal. Will try to find it one of these days.this week's dislering
"Disler"-Note: Inembento ko lang ang salitang "disler". Don't try to impress your photography teacher by using it.
- (noun) A DSLR camera.
- (verb) to shoot pictures with your DSLR
Dada's birthday cake
Aycs baked it and I frosted and decorated it. I don't know how we came up with the bright idea of piling two cakes on top of each other. Nagmukhang drowing ni "Dr. Seuss". But I think cakes look yummier when they're messy. I loved how it turned out.She loved it, too
Dislering at the Quaker's Hill station (click to see bigger versions)and one last...
The birthday girl! (click to see a bigger version)
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Tuesday, June 06, 2006
first of all
Dada is two today! :-) Oh, I'm so proud of my niece! She's such a big girl now, and every days she amazes me with all the new things she learns. She's growing up so fast, and I'm glad we live in the same house because that way I can witness every single special moment of her first few years.
I love her I love her I love her (even though she makes me want to scream sometimes)! And sometimes her "koala bear hugs" are the only thing capable of getting me out of bed during mornings. Hearing her giggle completes my day. She's the sweetest, smartest, smiliest baby ever!
Happy birthday, Dada! "Ninang Awa" loves you so much!
"Dada and the Dandelions"
Whenever I draw Dada, I put the portrait through the ultimate test by asking her to identify who the drawing is supposed to be. If she recognizes herself, then I know I've done the portrait justice. So far, I've never failed. ;-) And she loves it when I draw her.a season
Anybody who knows me well knows that I draw obsessively during rough transitions in my life. Not only do I draw more, but I make my truest and most meaningful works during hard times. Most of my best work where all made during my most down-trodden moments.
I can't explain why depression makes me develop and irrepressable urge to lock myself in my room all day and night and draw until my hands are about to break. And yet, it's art that has saved me from going insane so many times in my life. My brain tends to automatically think in metaphors, which is why pictures often express what I'm going through better than any words I could possibly use. I draw when I cannot explain myself any other way. I draw what I'm too afraid to say out loud.
Despite the difficulty, I consider depression a blessing. When else am I inspired to draw so much? I also try to think of it as a special opportunity where God forces you to search deeper within yourself. Any situation that makes you raise questions is always a spiritual one.
This horrible winter isn't helping my mood any, but it reminds me that though things appear cold and dead, they are actually growing quietly on the inside, getting ready for the spring. Without the death that winter brings, there'd never be room for new things to grow.
So, I consider this a winter in my life. It's just a season.
But more than a season, I always tend to think of my journey through the universe as one big ocean voyage (perhaps this is why I have such an affinity with the ocean). Dark times always make me feel like I'm drifting alone, in the middle of the sea, waiting for the night time to pass. If you've ever been on a boat at night, maybe you've felt the same beauty and terror I always experience looking out into an unlit sea. Like a dark ocean, life can seem so desperately lonely and daunting. But sometimes, the best thing to do is stop fighting the current, and allow yourself to lie back, and let the sea carry you.
And there's a certain peace to be found in allowing yourself to trust in life. It knows better. So that's what I'm going to do until the night passes: lie back and let the sea carry me. It's a good chance to look up and admire the stars.
And in the meantime, I will indulge in drawing because when life gets going (whenever that is), I won't have time to do this anymore. So, thank you, God, for hard times.
I'd like to call this one "Let the Sea Hold You", after a line in a poem we took up in college. Sadly, I cannot remember the author. But the poem made a big impact on me, and I even aced my poetry oral exams because of it.
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Thursday, June 01, 2006
Apo kid
"What's it like being the daughter of Jim Paredes?", ang laging tanong saakin sa mga panayam ("interview" ang ibig sabihin ng "panayam". Natutunan ko iyan nung isang linggo lang ;-)). Bata palang ako ay tinatanong na iyan saakin ng aking mga kaklase, mga guro, tindero ng balut/ taho, at kung sino-sino man.
Kapag reporter ang nagtatanong, standard answer ko diyan ay laging, “Ewan, he’s the only dad I’ve ever had, so I can’t compare”. Ang sagot lagi ng reporter diyan ay, "Aaaahh" na para bang naiirita saakin. Napaka-pilosopong sagot nga naman kasi, diba? Sa totoo lang, short-cut lang iyan ng tunay na sagot, sagot na masyadong mahabang sabihin (baka mabagot lang ang nagtatanong). Pero sasabihin ko na rin, kasi wala pa talaga akong napagsasabihan.
Bilang anak ni Apo Jim Paredes...
- Tuwing birthday niya ay may “surprise guesting” kaming magkakapatid sa "Sa Linggo nAPO Sila" (na kinabukasang naging "'Sang Linggo nAPO Sila") kung saan kami ay kakanta, o lalabas na may bitbit na cake/ pumpon ng bulaklak. Taon-taon ay maiiyak si daddy, maski na ilang beses na naming naulit ang “surprise” na iyon.
- Tuwing Pasko ay may guesting din kami kasama ng mga ibang "Apo kids" (mga anak nina Danny at Buboy), kung saan pakakantahin kami ng "Give Love On Christmas Day”.
- Pag may malaking APO concert ay e-epal din kami sa entablado.
- Epal din kami sa mga album nila (kabilang ako sa mga batang kumakanta ng back-up sa kantang "Panahon ng Pag-ibig" sa album na "Pasko nAPO").
- Tuwing may endorsement si daddy, minsan ay susubukan din nilang hatakin kaming mga magkakapatid. Maraming may-akala na ako ang batang kasama niya sa patalastas ng "Sunquick" na lumabas noong dekada-otsenta. Hindi ako pumayag na lumabas sa patalastas na iyon (limang taong gulang palang ako noon), kaya kumuha nalang sila ng ibang batang may hawig saakin. Kasama din dapat ako sa patalastas ng "Dutyfree" kaso nagka-dengue ako nung araw ng shooting.
- Lagi akong pinipilit ng aking mga guro na lumahok sa mga singing contest sa aking paaralan, maski na wala talaga akong inklinasyong kumanta noong bata ako.
- Tuwing pumapasok kami sa “David’s Salon” ay kaagad nilang pinatutugtog ang CD ng Apo.
- Nung nagsimulang nag-aral si Danica Sotto sa Holy Spirit (na paaralan ko din), may tsimis na kumalat na magka-away daw kami dahil ang tatay niya ay nasa "Eat Bulaga" (hindi totoo ang tsismis na ito).
- Nakuha ko ang pirma/ nakamayan ko ang Backstreet Boys, si Alanis Morissette, The Moffats, si Lisa Loeb, at kung sino-sino pang mga sikat na musikerong nag-guesting sa "Sa/ng Linggo nAPO Sila".
- Lagi akong kinakantahan ng mga kaklase ko ng “What’s this? kabayong buntis!”.
- Habang ang mga ama ng mga kaibigan ko ay umuuwi mula sa kanilang trabaho na may bitbit na briefcase, ang ama ko naman ay umuuwi'ng may bitbit na make-up case, at mga costume na makikintab (tamang pang-showbiz!).
- Nabanggit na ang pangalan ko sa isang kabanata ng "Game KNB?". Ang tanong ay: “Sino ang ama ni MYX VJ Ala?”. Ang mga sagot na pinagpilian ng mga kalahok ay: a. Freddie Aguilar, b. Rico J. Puno, C. Jim Paredes. May nakasagot naman ng tama (at kinilig ako na nabanggit ang pangalan ko sa "Game KNB?").
O anong masnagustuhan mo, yung short-cut o yung tunay na sagot?
- Ni minsan ay may mga taong galit na mahilig mag-akusa na ginagamit ko daw ang apelyido ko upang makalayo sa buhay. Eh, kasalanan ko ba kung lagi akong nakikilala dahil sa apelyido ko? (Baka gusto nilang palitan ko ang apelyido ko ng "Aguilar" o "Puno", hihihihi :-p).
*** Sinulat ko ito dahil wala akong magawa. Tsaka depressed ako. Sana napatawa ko kayo ng kahit kaunti.wisdom of our elders
Hindi ko alam kung sino ang nagsulat nito. Natanggap ko lang ito sa aking inbox.
Maski na nasa ibang bansa ay dapat paring alalahanin at sundin ang mga mabubuting kasabihan ng mga nakatatandang Pilipino.
"Pinoy Truisms"
Ang buhay ay parang bato, it's hard.
Better late than pregnant.
Behind the clouds are the other clouds.
It's better to cheat than to repeat!
Do unto others... then run!!!
Kapag puno na ang salop, kumuha na ng ibang salop.
Magbiro ka na sa lasing, magbiro ka na sa bagong
gising, 'wag lang sa lasing na bagong gising.
When all else fails, follow instructions.
Ang hindi marunong magmahal sa sariling wika, lumaki
sa ibang bansa.
To err is human, to errs is humans.
Ang taong nagigipit...sa bumbay kumakapit
Pag may usok...may nag-iihaw.
Ang taong naglalakad nang matulin... may utang.
No guts, no glory... no ID, no entry.
Birds of the same feather that prays together... stays together.
Kapag may sinuksok at walang madukot, may nandukot.
Walang matigas na tinapay sa gutom na tao.
Ang taong di marunong lumingon sa kanyang pinanggalingan ....ay may stiff neck.
Birds of the same feather make a good feather duster.
Kapag may tiyaga, may nilaga. Kapag may taga, may tahi.
Huli man daw at magaling, undertime pa rin.
Ang naglalakad ng matulin, late na sa appointment.
Matalino man ang matsing, matsing pa rin.
Better late than later....
Aanhin ang palasyo kung ang nakatira ay kuwago, mabuti pa ang bahay kubo, sa paligid puno ng linga.
Kapag maikli ang kumot, tumangkad ka na!
No man is an island because time is gold.
Hindi lahat ng kumikinang ay ginto... muta lang yan.
Kapag ang puno mabunga... mataba ang lupa!
When it rains...it floods.
Pagkahaba haba man ng prusisyon... mauubusan din ng kandila.
Ang buhay ay parang gulong, minsan nasa ibabaw, minsan nasa vulcanizing shop.
Batu-bato sa langit, ang tamaan... sapul.
Try and try until you succeed... or else try another.
Ako ang nagsaing... iba ang kumain. Diet ako eh.
Huwag magbilang ng manok kung alaga mo ay itik.
Kapag maiksi na ang kumot, bumili ka na ng bago.
If you can't beat them, shoot them. (Nalundasan)
An apple a day is too expensive.
An apple a day makes seven apples a week. (really expensive)isa pa
I will only marry a man if he can afford to give me this.
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