Filipinos are the most patient, most resilient and will take crap more than the next person. I am too. (When it's on my non-hormonal day or when I'm asleep.) I've mentioned before that this lady attendant at the gym has been the constant source of my aggravation, and today is another day to put up with her crap.  The sauna isn't on, because? "I didn't turn it on yet, so it won't get too hot."

Ok. Breath in. And try not to breath out fire, I tell myself. When my blood pressure rises, it floods my brain with vile and the only way to contain it so it won't contaminate another person, is to not open my mouth. I gathered the strength to walk to the massage belt and let it grind my muffin top, and wait for my curdling blood to cool off. I walked over to the treadmill and walked 7 minutes before I could not stand the boredom anymore and went back to talk to this pesky attendant. I explained to  her why it's called a sauna and why it is supposed to be hot and why it's good for your body. Why do you think Hippocrates, the father of medicine said: "Give me the power to create a fever, and I shall heal all diseases." Her eyes were twitching as I was explaining this to her and by the time I was done, I felt like the most pompous, spoiled complainer. And I hate that.

But then I thought: well, as long as I am in this mood of complaining, I might as well complain about the music. "Can you change the pipe in music to a Katy Perry cd?" "Who's Katy Perry?" Omg.  Seriously?  I could easily extend grace for her ignorance of the benefit of the sauna, but not knowing the ex-wife of Russell Brand? Omg, that's grievous. "Do you know Russell Brand?" Eye twitching. "No." This time, it's not only a grievous sin, it's unforgivable if you don't know Russell my Brand.

December is the only time of the year where people explain their finances to other people: This year we're not doing anything for Christmas, Because.......(fill in the blanks) And the only time of the year when people apologize---for giving at all. "I wanted to buy you that cashmere sweater, but my budget can only afford this cheese log from the dollar store, which I hope you'll eat by new year's eve."

But why? Anytime of the year we don't tell our co-workers or friends that we're denying ourselves and have been eating canned pork and beans  3x a day or that we have been visiting the church food pantry more times than the weekly church service. Why? it's the pressure of the season. It's the pressure to act happy and jolly. And generous. I say rubbish. Go hang yourself and leave me alone.

In the US, when someone greets me and say "Merry Christmas" (at least back when saying Christmas didn't get you in trouble.) they mean just that....have a Merry Christmas.  But here in the Philippines, when someone greets me the joy of Christmas, it's always followed by: What's my gift?
And since this is my second Christmas in a row here in the Philippines, I've learned what to say when someone asks, 'what's my gift.' I'd say : "Same as last year." "But you didn't give any last year." Then that's what I mean....nada.

When I was young and stupid, I was young and stupid, but stealing and or cheating was never my default setting. So how come this new generation sees nothing wrong about deception?

The gym I go to has a daily rate of $7.50 and this is my preferred way to go, considering that I'm never consistent with anything. But this week they have a promotional offer of 100 dollars for 3 months, with a restriction that you can use the facility everyday but only in the morning. No problem, I am a morning person. So this morning I showed up with my 4000 pesos in cash. In cash, because I was told they don't take credit or debit cards. In America, this would be a simple transaction; you pay, you get a receipt. But not here in Cebu. The lady who took my money told me in a hushed tone that I can use the facility for more than 3 months. Oh yeah? "Yes, but I can't give you a receipt, but don't worry because I am always the receptionist in the morning."

Some people may have liked this idea of a bargain, but not me. "What if you get hit by a jeepney tomorrow and you die and I show up here and whoever replaces you, asks for proof of membership from me, what then?" "No, that won't happen." What won't happen, you dying or another receptionist asking me for proof?

I should be happy for being offered a bargain, but is that really something I can live with? Of course not. I insisted for a receipt and it took over an hour for her to produce it. As the tourism promoters of the Philippines like to say: It's more fun in the Philippines. That's because in the Philippines, everything is for sale; kidney, lungs and or your soul.

Permaculture

I dream to be able to do this in my farm.

I finally had enough inactivity and I finally am feeling it on my body, so  today, I went back to the gym and just the mere act of going felt like I've already accomplished a lot today. I have not been back there since I arrived from Dallas so it surprised me to see that they have the a/c cut off and just had the door open, wide enough for air to get in....and all the dusts and fumes from the jeepneys and tricycles outside. I didn't know what to think of the arresting humidity. But 10 minutes on the treadmill, my body heat tempered the environments humidity. I guess it's ok. I tell myself.

I asked the reception girl why the change--is it due to clients request or is it due to budget constraint? "Budget. Boss said we have to conserve energy." Ok. Fair enough. I'll try to live with it because I don't really have a choice unless I go to another gym where I have to take a taxi. While this one is just a stone's throw away from me and has sauna in it.

When I go to the gym, the  only machine I will use is the treadmill. I walk in it for not more than 30 minutes and that's really good when I can even last that long. I get bored after 5 minutes, but I have to do it so my joints won't stick together. I do it for my health, period. But I love the sauna, so any gym with a sauna almost always can get me to join. Today, I was more adventurous. I used the massage belt; you know, the kind that wraps around your waist and you push this button to make it shake and grind.  I'm almost convinced that it has the "power to melt down the fat" on my sides, otherwise known as "muffin top." I felt exhilarated from that massaging and gyrating sensation.  Until the reception girl sidled up to me and asked if I was coming back tomorrow morning.  "I don't know. Why?" "Because I have something to give you." When a Filipino tells me that they have something to give me, I get apprehensive and weary. "What are you going to give me?" "An envelope for Christmas, ma'am." You see why I can't really tell you wholeheartedly that I love it here in Cebu?

We had our Christmas lunch yesterday with the street kids. When you take the time to listen to this kids, you'd see why Jesus came at all, and died for us, so we can live. And live "abundantly." This is Bebing. He roams the street but goes home to his brother once in a while. He sells drugs to the street kids. It's his birthday this week, so I made him brownies with icing and called it a birthday cake. I told him it was all his to freely give away. It made him feel useful and powerful. I told him selling drugs will kill children and that's not the kind of power he wants. He said he understands.

We had spaghetti, rice and fried chicken. And we listened to the word of God in the Bible.

This is Arnold. He, like the rest dumpster dive, begs and or steal. Then he play dress up. I said how can you live on the street and be gay? I guess it adds color to an otherwise dab under the bridge life. When he's not dressed as a female, he looks so sad and unhappy pushing the cart load of plastic and scrap metals.

I have one boy left at the farm because he broke his leg and barely able to stand up. But here's what I have in the city now. Yesterday at the party.

Remember them before? Here's Santino and Jack, high as a kite from sniffing rugby a year ago.

And Jordan when I first got him 9 years ago. He is now my peasant, my slave and... he prefers to be called my "PA".

And then there's Kevin and Junjun of 5 months ago.

They are the real vagabonds. My heroes. And Jesus is our Hero because without Him, I would have killed all of them and tell God they died.

John McAfee, the software guru and millionaire is headlining on several major newspapers. The guy invented McAfee and several years later, sold it for several millions. He left Silicon Valley and chose to live a life of wanderlust and isolation. And he's branded an "eccentric", "bonkers" and "crazy". Because the man knows what he wants in life? "I have more money than I can spend in a million lifetime" he said.

He moved to Belize. And he has dogs, lots of dogs which makes a lot of noise which caused him arguments with his neighbors. Then one neighbor turned up dead. Then John turned up in Guatemala, illegally. He ran for fear of his life. Rumors say he killed the neighbor. I don't think so.

You see, this is why I've often said that to the utmost I admire people who can walk away from something big, something familiar and special. John knew to do that. I just hope he'll find his way, back to my life.

Testing, testing

This new computer is pissing me off big time. I have finally figured out how to upload pictures but then when I minimize the window it erases everything. Anyway, let me try again.

These are pics I took of the boys 2 days ago.

I want to grow whatever I can so I saved the seeds of the avocado I ate and here they are, ready to make a tree of themselves.

I'm a tech moron, I've always admitted that, but I will eventually learn my way around a gadget given enough time. But this new computer I got with a Windows 8 operating system, is the worst I've yet to learn in the world of computers. I've been learning my way around it for 2 days now and I still could not find the part where it shows you the control panel and all the programs. And the part that really ticks me off ? I could not find a key or button to click to read the card in order to see my pictures.

Naturally, I'm frustrated to say the least. But hey, it could be worse. I tell myself this. But it's not working. I'm being self-serving, of course. As I write this, I have 2 friends whose husbands are very sick to where my girl friends have become slaves to the situation. And all I can focus is my computer problem? Ok, I will try to refocus and not get caught up in this path of me, me, me. I will start by ending this struggle with Windows 8 and going to sleep. NOW.

My cat doesn't do anything; he doesn't work, he doesn't rub my back or take me on vacations. All he does is make my heart pitter-patter with giddiness. When other pet owners talk about their pets who  have died or are sick and dying, I could not imagine myself going through that. I tell myself I would never get another pet if and when the time comes that my Winn will leave me. But then again, isn't that the same as saying I will never fall in love again?

We don't choose who we love and when we fall in love. And what kind of life is it anyway without love and losses? So I tell myself one more time that when I fall in love, I will love (him) like how I love my cat. Assuming of course, he, like my cat makes me  giddy.

Ok. I am here in my crib in Cebu. On the flight halfway to Korea, I had this sudden burst of anxiety, because a thought suddenly occured to me. Something is wrong with this picture: why am I travelling all over the world away from the people I care about? I have a daughter I left behind, I have 2 men I deeply care about (yes 2, sometimes 3) but they're not with me, nor am I flying towards them. I felt like blacking out as I tried hard to calm my nerves and  sort out the information that was fed to my brain out of nowhere.

Anyway, I'm ok now. Except that I am bumming off on my niece's computer because my new computer will not allow my wi-fi stick to work. It sucks not being able to go online when I want to.
As soon as I get set up, I will post pictures. I don't know what pictures, but I will post something and also tell you more about my day ---because I know you're dying to know about that. (you can laugh out loud here)

Until the next time, you are loved.

A Canadian Journal

Date: Sun, 3 Nov

Ah,yes... O Canada, Our home and native land!



Dear Diary



Aug. 12 - Moved to our new home in Canada. I am so excited. It's so beautiful here. The mountains are so majestic. Can hardly wait to see them with snow covering them.

Oct. 14 - Canada -- it is the most beautiful place on earth. The leaves have turned all colors and shades of red and orange. Went for a ride through the beautiful countryside and saw some deer. They are so graceful. Certainly they are the most wonderful animals on earth. This must be paradise. I love it here!

Nov. 11 - Remembrance Day. Deer season starts soon. I can't imagine anyone wanting to kill such a gorgeous creature. Hope it snows soon. I love it here!

Dec. 2 - It snowed last night. Woke up to find everything blanketed with white. It looks like a postcard. We went outside and cleaned the snow off the steps and shoveled the driveway. We had a snowball fight (I won). When the snow plough came by we had to shovel the driveway again. What a beautiful place. I love Canada!

Dec. 12 - More snow last night. The snow plough did his trick again to the driveway. I love it here.

Dec. 19 - More snow last night. Couldn't get out of the driveway to get to work. It's beautiful here but I'm exhausted from shoveling. F#cking snow plough.

Dec. 22 - More of that white shit fell last night. I've got blisters on my hands and a sore back from shoveling. I think the snow plough hides around the corner until I'm done shoveling the driveway. Asshole.

Dec. 25 - Merry F#cking Christmas! More frigging snow. If I ever get my hands on the sonovabitch who drives the snow plough, I swear I'll kill the bastard. Don't know why they don't use more salt on the roads to melt the f#cking ice.

Dec. 27 - More white shit last night. Been inside for three days now except for shoveling out the driveway after that snow plough goes through every time. Can't go anywhere, the car's stuck in a mountain of white crap and it is so frigging cold. The weatherman says to expect another 10 inches of the crap again tonight. Do you know how many shovels full of snow 10 inches is?

Dec. 28 - That f#cking weatherman was wrong. We got 34 inches of the crap this time. At this rate it won't melt before summer. The snow plough got stuck up in the road and that bastard came to my door and asked to borrow my shovel. After I told him that I had already
broken six shovels shoveling out all the crap he had pushed into my driveway, I damn near broke my last one over his f#cking head.

Jan. 4 - Finally got out of the house today. Went to the store to get food and on my way back a damned deer ran in front of the car. Did about $3,000 damage to the car. Those beasts should be killed. The bastards are everywhere. Wish the hunters had exterminated them all last November.

May 3 - Took the car to the garage in town. Would you believe the thing is rusted out from all that salt they put all over the roads.

May 10 - Moved to Florida. I can't imagine why anyone in their right mind would ever want to live in such a God forsaken place as Canada

I needed to edit my previous post when I said "last Thursday of November" it's not the last Thursday--my bad. But because I am using this desktop, for some reason I could not make it do what I want it to do; I can post but I can't go back to edit. Oh well.

I have 3 days left here in my apartment and I'm still unable to shake off the sadness, inspite that my brain is able to process the truth, that this too will pass. Which makes me more convinced of why we should tackle life just one step at a time. Last night when I started to get anxious about my laptop crashing, I told myself: why worry, I may not wake up in the morning to need a computer. And it worked; I stopped worrying about it and I went to sleep. But I woke up. And I'm here typing on this lousy desktop. So I tell myself again: be grateful for this day, be grateful for that left over turkey leg in the refrigerator. Not to mention that I am able to have an appetite.

Everything I learn, I learn from Chat. Lately, when I ask her "what are you going to do..." she'd say, "Mom, my plan only goes so far as to what I'm going to have for lunch today. I can't plan that far ahead." Which really makes sense, I think. I have a list of things to do today, but right now, I only plan to open the refrigerator and eat that turkey leg. So what about you?

Happy Pig

Omg. I have to scramble and work this desktop that I haven't used in ages because my Netbook crashed and I don't know how to fix it or where to begin to fix it. And it's setting me up for a major panic attack especially with all the things I have to do at the last minute. But then again, I could have a "banger" (my Irish friend told me it means a heart attack) and who cares then about this other small stuff.  So I breath in and I breath out and I tell myself, as what I would tell my friends, "have a normal amount of perspective".

Ok. Think. Feast. Turkey. Pies. And grilled pork belly. Omg.  Yes, today is November 22, 2012, last Thursday of the month of November and it started out being called Thanksgiving by whoever those people are. But now, I think everybody just calls it pig day---we hog down and then sleep.

Allright everyone, before I go, let me share with ya'll one more time the principles I have started to apply in my life (I say started because I wasn't born nice and giving). 1. Giving does not always have to involve money. 2. Giving does not make you poor, hoarding does. 3. Black Friday is an appropriate use of word because every Friday after the first week of January, your weekend will always be black when you realize that there's more Fridays than there are dollars in your bank.

Remember: eat and sleep. Don't shop. Happy pig day everyone!!!

Ok, I'm on my last week here in my apartment in Dallas and I  woke up this morning feeling really sad, anxious and almost inconsolable. But I also know that once I'm in my farm, I will be ok-- atoned and reconciled back to my elements. I just need to get through this week.

This is one of the things I love about being here. The night before Chat and I left for San Francisco, we went to see Anthony Bourdain. Dinner first.

Chat got us a 'meet and greet' pass but we didn't go to it, because I have the attention span of a cockroach and it doesn't matter if it's Anthony Bourdain or Gerard Butler, my butt just won't sit through past 45 minutes. Next week, I will be eating like this.

Or this.

And I get to snuggle with my main man again.

And then back to reality. Work in the farm.

I am back home from a 4 day vacation in San Francisco. I love San Francisco; it has culture, a quirky personality and lots of  good looking men. Oh wait. Good looking and fashionably correct, but am not sure if they're men.

Within minutes on the taxi ride to our hotel, I was immediately aware  that I have left Dallas. (Remember this is my first time in SFO) My eyes were taking in the buildings with that old world look, rich in decorative detail and the residential homes that looked like square boxes with built-in windows. And how much did you say? I had to ask the taxi driver to repeat the cost of those houses. In case, I didn't hear him correctly. I made a quick mental calculation and I figured that if I had owned one of those boxes, and I sell them, I could buy 2 real houses in Dallas, the new Fiat  and have plenty left over to buy more farm land in the Philippines.

San Francisco is a beautiful place to visit, but as long as I'm in the market for a husband I don't want to live there.  "And why is that?" Chat asked. "Well, I feel like swearing off men because I have eyed 7 already, and then find that the men they're walking with are not their drinking buddies." Really.

Oh well. Nothing that food can't compensate for. breakfast on the plane 7a.m.

Lunch at the wharf.

Cocktails on the plane heading home.

As I am winding down to the  day I am supposed to leave to go back to the island, I am feeling this edginess, a slight touch of anxiety. I never feel this coming back here in the US, in fact, I get so giddy and feel high as a kite thinking of my landing in Dallas. I know why.

Leaving the island means I am heading in the direction closer to Chat, while leaving Dallas means farther away from her. Because I stay in this constant state of restlessness, regardless where I am, being close by Chat tempers the intensity of the angst. And if there's anybody who can transform my angst into a full blown euphoria, it's her.

Yesterday, she called very early. "Mom, if there's any place you can go to in the US, where would  it be?" "California." What I really meant  was San Francisco. "Oh good. This Saturday I will take you to San Francisco." When Chat says something like that, I don't wonder, it's as good as done. What I miss from a rich boyfriend or a rich husband she's more than fulfilled.  I've never been to San Francisco except inside the airport, so when she mentioned of the eating activities she has planned; crabs at the wharf, brunch at Pebble Beach and tapas bar, my stomach started growling. "Then to get your palate ready for the Philippines, we'll go to Kusina ni Tess." Oh Lordy, do I really need that?

2 Greedy Italians

Mushrooms  has a history with me because growing up, my dad would send me out all the time to gather mushrooms which were prolific in the bamboo forest near our house. He taught me how to identify the edible from the poisonous ones, and he cooked it simply by wrapping it with banana leaves, sprinkled with coarse salt and grilled.
This is food porn, if I may say so.

I love simple foods. By that, I mean foods simply cooked without so much preparation and so much ingredients that I'd have to wonder and ask if I'm eating chicken, fish or beef. This is because I grew up with a mother who cooked our food only 2 ways: if it's vegetables, she boiled it, if it's chicken, she boiled it with vegetables. Beef or pork? We hardly had them unless someone got married or died.

So when I see this over inflated, overly celebrated cooks, I don't know how to take them. Unless. It's Anthony Bourdain. Not so much because he can cook, because really, anybody can cook because as far as I'm concerned, the principle of cooking is very simple: If it's to be eaten raw, then you don't have to cook it. If it's supposed to pass through the fire, then build a fire and make sure it's dead before you swallow it. I love the culinary bad boy Tony because let's admit it, the man is not bad on the eyes and..... he can write.

Another thing that doesn't sit well on my palate is the highly exalted, much feared food critics. Seriously. (Just because they write for the New York Times or Huffington Post.)  But then again, that's just how I roll. Yeah, yeah, I go from one extreme to the next. Here's another bad boy I like. Is he an artist cook? or a cook artist.

12 Ways to Love Your Body (Peggy Elam)

1. Quit comparing yourself to others. It moves you off center & increases the likelihood of losing (or never achieving) balance and equanimity.

2. Quit weighing yourself. Throw away your scale or turn it into a “Yay!” scale (a delightful invention of body liberation/fat activist Marilyn Wann, author of Fat!So? Because You Don’t Have to Apologize for Your Size.

3. Celebrate diversity in body size & composition. Appreciate the beauty in all bodies.


4. Spend your time & money on yourself—beautiful clothes, jewelry, haircuts, hobbies, travel, socializing—not the weight loss industry.

5. Fire the food and body police. Spend time with people who respect size diversity and natural appetites—and you—and disengage from those who don’t.

6. Limit your exposure to media promoting unrealistic physical or behavioral standards; increase your exposure to body- and size-positive art and media.

7. Keep the connection between mind, body & spirit flowing through life-affirming movement and practices that increase positive body awareness.

8. Clothe yourself in garments that fit NOW.

9. Let go of the past—what you used to weigh, how you used to look—and accept your body as it is in the present.

10. Let go of the future—whatever you have put off doing until you _____________(lost weight, etc.), start doing now.

11. Stand & move (& sit) with confidence & assurance of your right to take up space in the world.

12. Be kind to yourself & your body. Expect detours & mistakes along your journey—they may provide you with valuable lessons, growth and healing

Last week, Newsweek had an article talking about the booming sale of Ferrari in China and 20% of it is owned by women, compared to only 5% women ownership worldwide. Why that many in China alone?  Because of mistressville. The writer (a female with a Western name) put it out as something novel in China---having a mistress.  The writer was saying that because a growing number of rich men in Shanghai are now having mistresses, the sale of designer bags and clothes and sports cars have increased tremendously. I don't know why this article was worth half a page in that magazine, except maybe because to a Western woman this is news, but their husband or boyfriend knows this practice to be as old as their most guarded secret.

In Asia, a mistress is also known as the "kept woman".  Depending on how rich the man is, she is kept in an apartment with all the rent and amenities paid for by the man. Her main job is to not get fat and not demand for his time, but must be willing to perform sex on demand. In other words, she must act like a mistress.  And In return, she gets all the jewelries she wants and all the Louis Vitton's she can carry.

There's a Chinese proverb, I  think some crazy Chinese said this, that says: A man will only get bad when he becomes rich, while a woman can only become rich when she gets bad. In my case, I wonder how old do I have to get, before I go bad.

Self Sufficiency: Part One

Sustainable living

When I bought my piece of land in the island I had no concrete plan about farming, but since I got back here in Dallas I have been reading and watching documentaries about sustainable living. And it has led me to a lot of eye opening information. So you bet, when I get back to the island I will not only be busy---I will be a busy farmer. As you can see, this woman doesn't have a big lot and yet, look at what she's got. So let's all try and do what we can with what we have, not only to sustain us but to use nature how God intended it for us.

Henry Ford didn't buy the idea of doing market research. "If I had asked the people what they wanted, they would have said, faster horses." And Steve Jobs was in the same mindset with Ford. He didn't consult the market for what he was going  to do next; he did what he wanted to do and gave us what we didn't know we need. And now we can't live without it.

Or at least, I think I can't live without it. Two weeks ago, Chat unloaded her old iPhone, iTouch and iPod to me and slowly I am just learning how to use them. When I learned to take a picture and post it to my Facebook wall instantly, and then call friends at the same time, I was just beside myself. And when I told Chat how awed I was, she said: "Mom, the rest of the world were already enjoying that even before Steve died." With that comment I knew not to post on Facebook how awed and mesmerized I was, or my 207 friends might unfriend me--- not wanting to have a cavewoman as their friend.

I know I am a century late in enjoying all these technological wonder available to us, but it's ok, because just looking at over 1000 songs stored in this little piece of contraption, I am already overwhelmed. And feeling distressed trying to decide which one I should listen first.
Choices. It's driving me crazy.

People are funny. And by people, I mean that to include you and me. When I go to restaurants with other people I pretend I'm undecided on what to order based on the bottom description of the item, when it's actually because of the price on the right column. And God forbid that my companion(s) catch my eyes looking more to the right than to the left of the menu. Omg, the cheapest item is 19.95 . "I'm not really hungry, I just want something light. I'll just have a cheese souffle."  "You're not eating? You just want a dessert?" Ooops, let me read that description again, I thought it's a soup.

But when Chat takes me to lunch or dinner, I don't look at the menu, I  just let her order away. What do I care? she's paying. And I'd have a different kind of worry then; she'd always order too much for me to eat. And drink. Figs in gorgonzola cheese.  

Goat cheese beignet, pizza and cheese fondue, before the lamb chops for me and sirloin for her. Don't even mind the bubblies and the reds that flowed.

Money. Lots of it or lack of it. People often misquote the bible verse that says, "For the love of money is a root of all sorts of evil and some by longing for it have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs." It's not "money" but the love of it that's the cause of our misery. But who doesn't love and or covet money?

I do. And so are all the people and friends I know. But I have discovered early on, that money does not and could not buy happiness. Yes, money can get our wilted soul checked in at the Four Seasons and wail in private as we wipe our tears and snot with their 1500 thread count bedsheets. Would it help smoothen the wrinkle in our soul and make us forget the man who dumped us? I wouldn't know, I haven't been to a Four Seasons.

But 28 years ago, I was flown first class, transported by a Rolls Royce and slept in a suite at the Hong Kong Peninsula Hotel, crying my eyes out uncaring about anything around me, except for the fact that my body and mind could not process anything but the pain, knowing that my boyfriend at the time had another woman. So you see, you can entertain all our 5 senses with what money can buy or rent, but you can never fool the heart. It does what it does. And money, like food and drinks, is good and even necessary, but only if craved and used in moderation. Nevertheless, as I've always said: I've been rich and I've been poor and I found that rich is better.

Two more rental payments and I will be released from my contract on this apartment. At first, I had mixed emotions about giving up my apartment here in Dallas and make Cebu my base, but now I am more focused on just getting out and starting anew. 

From this living room:

To this living room: Depending on your perspective, you can say that I've traded down. This is my living room at the farm right now.

I already have my crib in the city but next year since I won't have any rental expense I plan to build a real house on the farm. By real, I don't mean big, but it means it will have a spacious kitchen.  My plan will be to build the house way up to the right of this tree. It is more elevated therefore it will have a vantage view of the ocean and the hills at the back.

And this is the view down below.  I call this place Molave because of this tree.

I can quit anytime

I don't have addictive tendencies (I don't think) but with Facebook, I've gotten so caught up in it. At first, I was using it simply to observe my friends---people watch in stalking mode, you know. Then one morning, I woke up going straight to it even before I could make coffee, posting comments and pictures. This continued the next morning, and the next morning and afternoon and the next morning, afternoon and way into the  night.  It's like getting involved with a man you know you should not be seeing anymore because he's taking up  your time and he's married, but you tell yourself: I can quit anytime. I just don't want to do it today. Then you find that you now have become dependent on  him for your joy. Much like Facebook.

With Facebook, we are sort of a celebrity: "Wow, you have 897 friends?" We're like Charlie Chaplin characters in reverse; we have voices through our "posts" but no one sees us. Only difference with us and real celebrities is  we don't kill ourselves when only 3 of the 897 friends "comments" or "like" our written outburts. We simply deactivate our account, hoping  someone would kill themselves of guilt for  not recognizing or validating us anymore.
Well, today, for the 327th time I have deactivated my account.  Curious why..... again? Well, do I need a reason? See if you believe this: Facebook has taken all my time, that blogging here has become second--- and it should not be that way. So there. 

I like to go to bed early because I love waking up early, but last night I was awakened around midnight and just could not go back to sleep. So here I am been awake since 1a.m. and trying to emulate Stephen King. I have read that Stephen is more creative when he is sleep deprived. In fact, one of his books, the title I could not remember (because I haven't read any of his books) was written and completed in 24 hours. Well, I guess that was also because he inhaled, ingested, injected or whatever it is you do with that stuff that makes you high as a kite.

I could tell I am not achieving any Stephenish effect here, because I can't even think what I should be writing now. Oh. Aaah, yes, well, let's talk about confusion.  About other people's confusion. A friend of mine went back to his wife after several years of being separated. "So how does it go?" I asked him after a month. " I hate living here." His wife loves to play the "helpless, mentally and emotionally challenged" creature, and he buys into it because it makes him feel not useless,  in spite that she treats him like her retarded manservant.  She thrives on parties and social status, while he hates it the same way he hates capitalism.  Because he now lives with her, he has to go to all the parties she goes to, and it's killing him. Or so he says.

"So what are you going to do about it?" "I'm thinking of moving to Panama and become a Panamenian citizen." "Oh really?" "Yes, for 300 thousand dollars I can have a Panamenian passport." I didn't ask why he wanted to give up his US passport, I just assumed that because he's a socialist, Panama would fit him alright. But I did ask why he just can't learn to live in harmony with his wife again. "Being alone has its rewards. I can pass gas anytime, anywhere in the house." The man knows what he wants, he's not confused after all. Which made me assess my own single life. And yes, that reason right there makes it all worth being single.

Bow River

Chat got me a weekend getaway to fly fish in Canada. Didn't catch anything, but just as well, because if I did, I'd pass out-- unable to handle too much excitement. The angst of the new experience was already too much. Because if you know me well enough and can go inside my head, you'd know that I enjoy "experiences" not during, but only after looking back at it. I know, I know. I'm just sick that way.

My hotel in downtown Calgary. Last year, Chat flew me business class and got me an apartment in Bannf for 2 days. This weekend, again, I flew business class and a suite. When I complained on the wastefulness of it, I think I heard her mumble the word "spoiled and ungrateful". 

At a cafe next door, coffee never tasted as good as this, paired with the crisp cold air.

And today's word picture...

You must have noticed that I am blogging less and less. Well, you must remember what I've been saying--my brain is clogged. And I have no energy left, except for whining and moaning. And on some days, I don't even have enough energy for that.

So let's just look at pictures.
Here in America we grow pumpkins to play with for Halloween.

While I grow them in my farm to eat and survive.

Remember my yacht? Well, here it is parked at the yacht club.

My caretaker and my surviboys would fish for our food when I am in the island. And what we use here in America as baits? we eat them back in the island. And I never hear the end of Chat's rebuke: Leave the baby fishes alone!!!

We don't waste nothing. We roast the whole pig.

And we sure don't throw away the guts.

And instead of eating rice right from the plate, we have to make it harder for ourselves.