Below is my unforwarded email to the community after our visit to the Center for Disabled Children at Pakkred, Nonthaburi.

From my own point of view….

I walked in those two “halls” with a heavy heart. I was already informed that the place is for the disabled children but at least I expected them all to be in a shape good enough to run around and seize the day with joyous cheers. But the site that met me was enough to crush my heart into shards I’d forever spend my life picking up the pieces. I had to weep silently. Reality was staring at me right in the face. The site of those severely disabled babies all jam-packed in one room was too much for the taking.

Much as I wanted to leave the place in a jiffy, I knew I had to stay to make it look normal for the kids to have new people around. So, I braved one more room - each rung spelling a dreadful step.

I was told that the cases on the second floor were less likely than the one on the ground. True enough, they have less severe cases. Still, how could you be consoled with the “better status” label when you see a baby whose life, as you know, is already marked by the abnormality he’ll carry all throughout his existence? It makes you wish that they hadn’t been better afterall.

I sift through the babies’ appearance and try to look beyond for a story. All I see are innocent faces staring back at me – who look even more sorry for me seeing them that way. I try to search within for enlightenment. And got even more depressed in the realization that they are forever doomed in that situation.

I must admit that there was a hefty lump of hatred I harbored in seeing those small and helpless angels burdened with the abnormalities. Where was love and compassion in molding those lovely creatures?

But then again, Kuya Bob, was right in his reflection that those angels are mere instruments for us to realize how blessed are we to have the “complete faculties and senses” (lifted from Kuya Pats) to live a decent and comfortable life. That our life in retrospect is just a mere journey towards a better and far grander life shaped according to the works of the “One holding the greatest power”. And that I have no right at all to question His will for He alone knows the wisdom that underlies such difficulties.

Ah. Such pondering it could make. I could even recount a thousand tiny moments out of that walk. I don’t know how else were you touched by those lives. For me, I’d forever be reminded by the face of that lovely angel near the door who generously offers a big grin to everyone who walks in. Or that next angel who struggled to rise up on his knees to acknowledge my presence – wobbly legs and all. Or that other angel who delights in merely touching our faces albeit totally oblivious of the tummy of his “cribmate” underneath his knees.

Beautiful.

Dear God, your beauty is something far beyond my imagination. I may never come to understand your truth in this lifetime. But at least make me an instrument to protect your people.

I have this nasty zit that seemed to have assumed its permanent post in between the right edge of my nose and mouth. Been there for more than two weeks now! I have deliberately stopped applying soap and cleanser on my face just so it would mature and burst eventually. But the thing seemed just to get used to my skin that it instead recruited a new dot on its top making it look nastier and yuckier. Argh!  Whoever said that the snake is the most abhorred thing of all?

Bernice:  What do you think of that guy? (pointing her mouth on a ‘voluptuous-y’-all-mistakened-for-a-muscle guy. Oh hell, us Fils love doing it that way, right? Nitpicking. And pointing by our mouth:) ) Do you like his type?

Me: No. Too big. Too loud. Too tall. And too white. (Rather blunt, I know. But Bernice is a close friend. And besides, engaging in such funny and awesome conversations sometimes liven up the blood in us, so let me just justify it that way, ok?)

Bernice: Huo man gain:) Indi man ko sina nanamian. (I think so, too. I’m not into that type either.)

And I suddenly made this naughty remarkJ

Me: You know, sometimes, I just feel like assigning a dog breed for each race I see here in AIT. Like, I see that man over there like a poodle. (Actually, he’s more like a hound-poodle. Hehe.)

Laughter ensuing….

And I continued.

Me: And we’re askals. (For those who don’t know what askal is, it’s just our abbreviated word for asong kalye or what is popularly known in the English sphere as stray dogs:) )

Tawanan ulit.

Me: And this guy beside me as a wild dog!

We were joined by a Bangladeshi who didn’t have a single clue as to what we’re talking about:) we were both talking in Ilonggo by the way:)

Ayoko na. We’re not funny anymoreJ besides, that guy is sooo nice he made ma feel so badL

Heck. I’m bored. I’m hiring claque for my audience.

finally had the guts to post my pix on line

**Written on Saturday last week.

I shifted for the nth time while lying sprawled on my bed. I have to be up. Quick. Each ticking of the clock reminds me of the day’s responsibility to attend to. Who cares if it’s a Saturday? I really have to be up and start to get moving. This is the life I choose. To fill every idle time I have with anything to work at. I hate feeling the depression again. The one that makes me feel that my whole life had been sad after all. Thus, this feat on keeping things hard on myself. Err… keeping myself busy rather.

The sporadic laughter emanating from a flat in a nearby building pulls me off from a daytime stupor. Such is the spirit of the Pinoys. Only our race can have the guts to engage in a shrieking one-inch distance conversation, be oblivious of the stares of other’ lahis’ from their own rooms and plainly get away with it.

Wooppss! My phone’s ringing. Someone to remind, I’m sure. I refuse to get up though.

----------------------

Nah. I ain’t busy now. I was just attacked by this intense force of laziness. Ho-hum. I wish I have dash’ power to run quick.

Be leaving for Chiang Mai tomorrow. See you tuesday, guys.  

Someone’s having a birthday tomorrow and everyone’s ignoring her for a week. Poor girl. She’s been doing her rounds dropping her wonderful deeds so people would take notice. But everyone’s just too a-hole-y to care.

I was down with the colds and fever the other day so I opted to stay in my room. Being a wonderful friend that she is, she went to my house to bring me food. Somewhere along our conversation, she hinted about her upcoming birthday thrice. Read that, T-H-R-I-C-E!!!   And I pretended not hearing it and proceeded with what I suppose as a more interesting topic.

And here’s the kicker. As if it’s not enough. Our household is hosting a get together party for the celebration of the graduates tomorrow. Yeah, right on her birthday :)  When the announcement for contributions was made, she jumps into the scene and donated five kilos of pork for the ihaw-ihaw.  She only got a mere thank-you for that.

Yesterday, she told Benlyn how she thinks everyone is so uncaring about her. “Di man lang ba nila nanotice ba’t magdodonate ako ng pork?” were her words. hahaha.

So you think we’re wicked? Nah…. It’s just a ploy:) We’re serenading her tonight:) Good luck to us guys. I’m posting this at 2010 hours. Hope she doesn’t read this before 11:)

Have you ever dreamed of calling home for only 20 cents a minute? That’s in dollar by the way and I’m from Thailand. US is around 15 cents FROM the Philippines.

Oh well. The utter bliss technology brings.

*** Sorry. Details next time :) I gotta scram. Bombs away! Wooooosh!

(written yesterday)

One major problem you encounter when you're a filipino living abroad (save the English speaking countries, of course) is the language barrier. Oftentimes, you have to explain and reexplain your point before you and the other person settles into a clearer topic and end up comprehended. i never worried about this for i know i can switch to other words when the one I’m using gives me less and less hope to be understood. Until today....

I resolved going to the bank for two transactions. First is to do a personal business by depositing an amount for someone. The other is to discuss an office glitch which we have just encountered lately. Our problem roots from the payment made by our members abroad. When the member pays in credit card, there is not much worry in the process. However, when the fee is paid in cheque, the bank is charging more. For us who shoulder the bank charges on behalf of the payee, it is quite absurd to have gone on with that option eversince. So, armed with our recent documents, off I went on with my second transaction. Since, I have just received another payment in cheque from Vietnam, I decided it would be best to inquire about the bank charges in that country.

At a bank counter....

The first transaction went smoothly. And so I went on with my second objective.

Me: And for this one, can you check the vietnam bank's charge for this cheque? (And i went on explaining our last glitch). Because the last time we received a payment in check in the amount of 70 dollars from singapore (i showed her the previous cheque), the bank charged 54.75 dollars. Which left us roughly 15 dollars only for our membership. And that's rather funny because the bank charged more than 75 per cent of our membership fee.

The teller was looking at me suspiciously  but she composed her sweetest smile though.

Teller:  but we can't deposit this amount under your name because it says here "Pay to the order of (name of institute)".

Oh boy! What have i gotten myself into. I tried to look around for a possible translator. no one to save me there.  Keep on looking, Ann. Zip. Nada.  So I thought of elucidating my point further. 

Me: Erm.... no. what i was trying to say is that. (I’m obviously trying to bend my English).etc. etc.  You got me?

Teller: ah. I see. I see.

Thank God, she finally got my point... but she went on saying....

Teller: But we can't really deposit the account under your name.  You see, it says here....

Oh great! Napagkamalan pa 'kong manggagancho:) Ang sosyal pa naman ng english ko!

Thus, a 5-minute transaction turned out to be 30 minutes for my further explanation lest I might leave the bank with all those accusing eyes staring at me.

I’ve been feeling all kinds of low these days. So, I tried to amuse myself by writing a few testimonials of which only one reached the testimonial board. Here goes:

Obituary:

Rex is zombified (Oh, what the hell. I can coin any word I want right? ). He was found dead under the rubbles of his books obviously displaced from too much brainstorming (if you don't get the pun, go kill yourself so I can make another obituary epistle for you. I'll make sure to address it to every dolt hitting the information highway for their daft comments). Now, he's back with the vengeance - starting from the people who made his life miserable here on earth down to the most despicable of dummies who made his life more miserable even. Soon, he'll be elevated into a rather more respectable order, that of a ghoul - yes, the one that feeds on corpses - to complete his mission. Eow! You see, he's got one smug albeit yucky accomplice…the snake! Bwahahahhahahahaha!

(He's latest friendster picture is on a farm in some remote place in Singapore with a snake wound over his neck:) )
 

Warning: if you're one of his abhorred fiends, better stay alive or you'll be eaten dead:)

So, here I am disclosing my other side. Yeah, I’m pretty vicious sometimes. Some testimonials I wrote, I almost barfed when I read them days after I wrote it. Haha. And to quote my constant textmate these days, “Hahay!” :)