WHAT DO YOU REALLY MEAN BY "WHAT DO YOU MEAN?"

Last February, two of my classmates have had a serious quarrel because of some “misunderstood” statements. To settle it, our class held a meeting of some sort but in my opinion, it is a judicial court whose audiences are people, we, who are not really involved in the quarrel but whose presence are required for some reason I don’t know but in fact I really know but I just don’t want to blabber it out for some unknown reason, too. 

So there we sat, watching as the two of them exchanged their arguments and I couldn’t help but notice how some of my classmates show their “interest.” Some listen, some don’t, some chit-chatted while some didn’t care. So, there we were, perfecting an example of a typical classroom while the teacher talks but in this case, while the two of my classmates exchange their reasons. 

So I sat there. Completely innocent of knowing what really happened that night when Classmate 1 was said to have yelled at Classmate 2 who is 12 years older than Classmate 1. I never really knew what happened but I know that I completely know what was happening at those very moments. 

I sat silently while my two friends were busy putting some black thing called ‘mascara’ in their eyelashes and while my other classmates joined in the argument which originally has just two participants. Some cried and asked why those things should ever happen. Why do we need to fight with one another if we can just forgive each other? I watched as the simple quarrel turned into a mellow-dramatic soap opera that I never loved to watch. 

But did the two forgive each other instantly, why, of course not. Because admit it or not, each one of us has reasons that we want to prove and answers we want to hear. So there they continued on throwing their sentiments to one another and I noticed the evident rise of volume on their voice boxes and earned more interest in this new promising debate until I heard some of my classmates muttering Peter’s name under their breaths and the point came when the two were comforted by their friends and I feared that the university clinic will be of medical assistance. 

So I stood and asked the body the permission to speak. I said, “This is the only time I am going to meddle with things like this so let me have the floor, everybody. I need you not to yell. You don’t need to say that I am another smart-ass who’s going to add spices on this classroom epidemic. We are Language Major-students,” I said for we are English and Filipino Majors and continued, “So we must know that the things we are saying have meanings.” 

The crowd fell into silence and started listening to me as if I am an angel. I grabbed the rare chance and continued, “We should learn that every thought we speak of has its SURFACE and DEEP meaning.” 

With this, they look at me curiously and I realized that our professors hadn’t mentioned this thing yet in our classes and I felt like a smart-ass but I continued, “Surface meaning is the MEANING that the receiver has got and Deep meaning is the meaning we want our receiver to understand. May I ask what the channel used by Classmate 1 in transmitting her ‘misunderstood’ message was?” 

And they said that it was personally channeled so it was not through a phone that I expected earlier but went on, “May I ask how Classmate 1 delivered her message; in what tone?” 

And I started to speak the message in high tones, middle tones and finally low tones and they answered that Classmate 1 delivered the message in high tones and I thought that that was the reason why Classmate 2 was mad. Until that moment she was still mad so I continued. 

“May I ask Classmate 2, what was your impression upon hearing Classmate 1’s message?” 

Indeed she answered she felt mad because it’s not a courteous way to ask a request from someone older like her. I know it because Filipinos are really sensitive when it comes to courteousness. 

So I asked Classmate 1, “What is your tone in giving that message?” And she admitted that it was really high and again I asked her, “If you are going to bring back that time, how would you say it again?” “Softly,” she stated the same sentence but this time in a low tone. She almost cried while saying those words and I tried to help her by asking what the reason of her high tone that night was? 

Alas! And she said that she was tired and she was stressed in preparing the cheer dance and she didn’t notice that her voice was big. 

Finally, I ended up my short lecture by steadying my emotion. I knew it will deepen the effect on my classmates. I looked at them and in a soft but hard voice, I said “All of us commits mistake. All of us must understand. We are different from one another so we must put our shoes in everybody’s places so that we may see in different angles and perspectives. And if we continue to make these differences as walls from each other, we will end up alone. Instead, we should make these differences as bridges so we may reach others.” 

The class fell silent. 

I sat back in my chair and continued on watching my two friends as they put that thing they call “blush-on” on their cheeks.

+++

Check another article related to misunderstandings at http://officialmarkangelo.blogspot.com/2012/09/basic-presentation-on-discourse-analysis.html

HOW DO YOU MEASURE A GIRL?

Twenty months ago, I met a boy who told me that I am emitting a black-colored aura. Of course, I was startled.

A black-colored aura? What in the world….

In my mind flashed images of ninjas wearing black clothes and images of all villains in the world. What does this guy think of me?

But he cleared my confused mind by saying that it was just his own view of assessing persons. He explained to me that for him, a girl emitting a pink aura is girly while a girl who poorly emits this aura can be most likely a lesbian.

For the love of Pete! What’s more with black?!

But again he told me that black is different. It simply meant that I am not a typical kind of girl. I don’t know if he told the truth but I think its better that way.

I began to look at myself. I won’t say that I am ugly the same way I won’t say that I am beautiful. Let’s just say that I am average… and a little bit dashing. No, I’m kidding, I am just an average girl. LOL.

With these I wondered how a man measures a girl.

And why am I emitting a black aura?

Why am I not a typical girl?

And why am I disappointed about that black aura?

I don’t wear make-up, I always reason that they are expensive but another reason is I don’t know how to put them on.

I am not a fan of One Direction, Taylor Swift or Justin Bieber. I like Frank Sinatra more. (Um, can I add The Script, too?J).

I don’t have crushes on teen-aged male actors. I like Mel Gibson more. I don’t watch TV. I spend the day reading.

I don’t like movies of love. I like cartoons more. In fact, when I was a child, I’m an avid Naruto fan. (Naruto is a Japanese anime program). I can still remember the look on my classmates’ faces every time I talk about his techniques.

When I was a child, my cousins play while I spend the afternoon sitting under our mango tree while admiring the clouds and trying hard to draw them.

I bike, I think many girls do but my fondness in biking brought me to an accident one rainy afternoon. It brought an ugly scar on my left arm.

The library is my hangout. I can spend the day literally devouring literature books.

I like watching the stars. During summer nights I’d lie down on our ‘papag’ outside while measuring the unfathomable wonder of the world.

I like sewing. During afternoons, I sew pillow cases, mantles, kerchiefs, anything that can be sewn. I like collecting old things, my mother would call them “trash,” but I won’t be throwing them away until I figure out something for them.

So this is being black? I can live with that.

Women are made to compliment men. Adam can testify to that. Women differ from one another. All men can testify to that. Women will be women. It doesn’t matter how they look, smell, or whatever. You can never measure them through those things. Know her, that’s the only way.

And the guy I am talking about the first paragraph? He learned that a girl can never be measured… but appreciated for whatever she is.

That guy who told me I am emitting a “black-colored aura”? He chose “beautifully.” And he fell in love with me. (Actually he calls my collection of old things “witch’s accessories.”)

PINOY ADVENTURES: A Cup of Coffee for an Early Riser

Sprawled in Pacific Ocean is an archipelagic wonder that is known for her singing mountains, dancing waters and many other personified wonders but, I won’t be talking about them. All I want to say is that we Filipinos love to wake up early – really early. Yup, and that’s it. 

Waking up is as early as 3:00 AM for the market vendors, 4:00 AM for street vendors, 5:00 AM for early market shoppers, joggers, students, employees and small time entrepreneurs. 6:00 AM? In the Philippines, 6:00 AM is a late clock. You should have continued your sleep when you woke up 6:00 AM. Yeah, you woke up late. 

I don’t know why we wake up early but we do. I know some countries wake up early too but they start their work late, like 9 or 8:00 AM. I’m sometimes confused why many people see waking up early as something laborious to do. 

In the Philippines, waking up late is a sin. Try my experience: one time I woke up at 5:30 AM and mother scolded me and told me many things – 

“Lazy! You think you’ll be successful in that kind of attitude? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Our neighbors are already done with their chores and yet you’ve just woken up!? The carabao’s head would blow up in the heat of the high sun and you still lie in your bed like a queen. The sun will shine on your teeth and they’ll crack!” 

The first ones, I can take but the last one? I don’t know and I know there’s no scientific explanation that the sun’s rays could crack off teeth but I grew up fearing it. 

I would admit. Mornings in Philippines are really beautiful scenes. As early as 5:00 AM, the commotion of activities can be felt – fathers feeding the animals, mothers cooking breakfast, children getting ready for school. Add the aroma of cups of coffee steaming and the ‘pot-pot’ of the vendor in cycles of the warm pan de sal waiting to be bought. People would usually crowd around the vendor hoping to get some. Yeah, it’s really nice to wake up early and see the sun shining from the east. 

But what is the reason for this? 

Honestly, I do not know any study about why Filipinos rise early. But let me share with you my theories. LOL. 

We all know that Filipinos are colonized by other countries (Japan, etc.) and unfortunately Filipinos were made slaves. I was thinking that it forced them to wake up early. They have to wake up early to serve their masters and do stuff slaves do. 

The Philippines was making trades with China through ‘barter’. In order not to be late and have the finest trade, they wake up early. If they wake up late, they’ll get the bad fish. 

Whatever the reason why most Filipinos wake up early could be, we all know that it is a very good trait and I am talking from experience. During school days, I stay in a dormitory. My dorm mates wake up early but I wake up earlier to the point that my roommates hate me for turning the lights on as early as 5:00 AM. LOL. Believe me; I am sorry for that. I take a bath at 5:45 AM, eat breakfast at 6:15 AM and go to school at 6:45 AM, although the class is starts 7:30 AM. It has its perks, by the way. I can savor the aroma of early morning and enjoy the calming silence. 

Believe me; waking up early is one of the greatest experiences life can offer. 

Add the worms. 

Now, who’s the early bird?

I WALK BESIDE AN EXECUTIVE

I am just a simple girl with a simple face, simple life, simple traits, that’s all – everything about me is simple but there are things that make these simple things extraordinary, or more appropriately, worthy. 

I am studying to become a teacher someday. It is hard. Really hard. I guess all courses are, but being a teacher has an extra credit. 

Once, in my elementary, I told myself I’m not going back to school anymore once I finished my studies. But fate is playful. I never realized that in the end, I’m going to stay in a school… as a teacher… if, I pass the Licensure Examination for Teacher (LET). 

+++ 

The subject of today’s story deals with what happened to me in my University. 

I am a nineteen-year-old junior student is the Philippine Normal University now. As I have mentioned above, I live a simple life. I am a typical student. Unruly sometimes, diligent sometimes, sleepy sometimes, active sometimes, lazy most of the times -- until one day, the Executive Directress of the University called me. 

Mobile phone rings… 

Me: Hallo? 

Executive Directress: JK, is this you? 

Me: Yes, madam. 

Executive Director (let’s call her ED, I’m tired of pasting. Laughs.) : Would you mind replacing me and become the next Directress? 

Me (Sophistically drinking the liquid in my goblet): Absolutely yes, I would, Elena. 

+++ 

Cut! That’s a joke. She called to inform me that she wants me to be her Student Assistant. 

A student assistant is, well, let us say, er, not a very easy and proud task -- more of Batman’s sidekick, Robin-thingy. I’m her typist, I’m her recorder for everything, I carry her bag, I send her errands, etc. That’s me, the great student assistant. 

But did I accept it? Of course, I did. 

And that extended my hours in school… 

+++ 

4:00 PM. 

Normally, I’d be galloping for home. I said galloping because going home (in my case, going home to the dormitory) is a stress-relieving thought. But that changed. 

Now, every afternoon, instead of galloping back I dutifully go straight to her office and do some office works. I stay from 4:00-6:00 PM depending on what she wants. 

Now, instead of walking home alone, I walk beside her and when students greet and bow to her, it feels funny because I feel like they are greeting and bowing for me, too. But of course, I always hide my giggle. 

Every hour stay, I’ll get 25 pesos ($ 0.61). At best, I can get 800 pesos ($ 19.51) per month. I know it’s kind of small but, in the Philippines, it’s a great help. And staying at her office gives me lots of insights. 

+++ 

Honestly, many acquaintances admire me for having the guts of working for her. Some say I am brave, some say I am brave and many say I am brave. Yeah. Your conclusion is true. Many students are afraid of my boss. 

I will be lying if I’ll say that I was never afraid of her. At first, my knees shake in her presence, I was always afraid every time she commands me, wishing that the time ticks faster. 

But that was ‘AT FIRST’. Because AT LAST, I learned that my boss is not what I thought she was. 

I won’t say that she is kind as a saint but she’s human. She knows how to laugh, knows how to crack jokes, and knows how to hum. It’s just so funny that people in high positions are thought to be stiff as rocks. 

I became at ease with her presence. But most of all, I learned many lessons. 

It is always better to ask questions if you don’t know how to do something. Don’t be afraid that it will make you sound ignorant because it is more shameful to be a smart-ass. 

Sorry may only be a word but it is a word that says you know you’re wrong. 

Simple things, yet I know will guide me somehow, somewhere. 

In the near future, the record that I served in the Executive Directress’ Office may be of small help for my transcript but it feels so nice to know that when I’ll practice my vocation, I’ll be proud to say that once, I walked beside an Executive.

PINOY ADVENTURES: THE STREET FOOD MENU

This is Philippines! It shines throughout the year but we also experience rain and cold weather. Anything that grows here are edible, but if not, we make a way to make it edible. We make a poisonous taro a delicious refreshment. We find a way how to eat a tough-skinned janitor fish a tender recipe. We make a leftover lechon (roasted pork) a mouth-watering new delicacy. Because we, Filipinos are food-loving people. And since I am hungry at this very moment, let me serve the menu for an exotic meal that many foreign people found as a mouth watering challenge.

TADA! IT'S THE STREET FOOD MENU!

You probably be wondering what these ‘street foods’ are. Let me start with the Chicken dishes.

This is not about the wings, breast and legs. Today, we are going to eat the chicken’s intestines, head, and feet – roasted in a stick. If you'll ask me how they taste, well, all I can say is I keep on buying them. The intestine or what we call ‘isaw’ has a rich creamy flavor. (Probably because of the undigested corn that they ate or some undigested thingies). The head or ‘helmet,’ as we call it, is also tasty and nasty. It was named ‘helmet’ because it is what we use to protect our head (funny). While the feet (or claw) or ‘adidas’ is bony but delicious to gnaw (LOL). Apparently, it was named after a famous shoe brand (Sporty!). You can also find ‘puwet ng manok’ or the sexy hen butt (laughs) which is creamy and juicy.

We also have in our menu the ‘ beta max’ or pig’s blood. Personally, I don’t want to eat this but those who already tasted it said that it’s really good. Of course, we are Filipinos. We eat anything that could be chewed.

You may also try the ‘one-day-old’ chick. It was called ‘one-day-old’ because it’s only a day old. It’s like eating a small chicken.

And if we have chickens, we must have eggs too. We have the 'bugok.' It is delicious especially when paired with vinegar. By the way, in Filipino, ‘bugok’ means ‘rotten egg’. But my stomach doesn't ache when I eat this so I conclude that it is safe (LOL). Another egg treat is the ‘kwek-kwek’ or quail eggs covered in flour with an orange coloring.

But if you want the best egg treat, you should try ‘balot’ or commonly known by foreigners as the ‘almost-hatching-egg.’ Usually, 'balots' are made from duck eggs.

One time, I was watching Fear Factor in AXN and comes the participants in the final round to win $50000. The challenge was to eat three 'balots.' Because the participants were all Americans, no one was able to win the contest. So, it made me think: what if one of the contestants was a Filipino? I believe he would have begged for more.

Lastly, we should not forget the legendary 'fishball' and 'kikiam' -- the mothers of all Filipino street food. By the way, fish ball has always been $0.012 since 1991.

Honestly, many foreigners find our taste buds weird. Some even find it “challenging” to taste some of our favorites. These may appear weird and sound weird but I guarantee that once you have tasted them, these authentic Filipino street foods, you’ll have a mouth tingling experience of the exotic Oriental food menu.

MY MAN IS NOT THE MAN OF MY DREAMS

My man is not the man of my dreams

Because he cries like a baby

My man is not the man of my dreams

Because he doesn’t fight with fists

My man is not the man of my dreams

Because he’s afraid to sleep alone

My man is not the man of my dreams

Because he doesn’t want to crack his bones

My man is not the man of my dreams

Because he’s soft most of the times

My man is not the man of my dreams

Because he tears at night

My man is not the man of my dreams

But even though, he loves me

My man is not the man of my dreams

But still, he wants to keep me

He cries like a baby because he misses me

He doesn’t fight with fists, his brains he uses

He's afraid to sleep alone ‘cause on his side he wants me

He doesn't want to crack his bones for fights, he takes care of them for me

He is soft because he's not hard

He tears because of Love

He loves me for no matter what

He keeps me for what I am

My man is not the man of my dreams

Because he is no more a dream

My man is not the man of my dreams --
‘Cause he’s the man of ME

OF THE BLOOD OF MARY

As I doodle on my notebook, waiting for ideas which I can scribe on my paper, my attention drifted to a girl in front of me – her hair is not neatly combed, her face oily and she’s looking at me with curious eyes. Then I realized that I am in front of a mirror.

Suddenly, I felt very eerie. I remembered a girl whose story was told many times. Ironically, her name is the same with one of the most revered religious figure – Mary.

But I wondered – what is the real story behind the mirror?

Well, readers, I am not requiring you to brace yourselves. What you will read are just some portions of what people say Mary is. All you have to do is to relax… and make sure that there are no mirrors around.

Bloody Mary has always been regarded as bloody, scary and cursed. Her stories are told in campfires, slumber parties and even anywhere. According to legends, you can meet her in front of a mirror, with a candle as your only light. Chanting her name seven times says that you will see her emerge from the mirror -- bloody as hell.

However, variations of this story might make a person picture many Mary's. One variation of the story said that Mary is a beautiful girl but an accident made her face so distorted and terribly ugly that they did not allow her to see her reflection in fear that she might be outraged. One night, because of untamable curiosity, Mary climbed up to a high room with a mirror. Disgusted at what she saw, she became very mad and promised that she’ll go after the person who’ll call her.

Another story tells us that Bloody Mary is a lady who had many miscarriages. From these came the legend that after calling Mary who wanted her baby so bad will go after you in search for her fallen baby.

But one story seems to fit for the name Bloody Mary. This speaks of a queen, who, in order to stay young and beautiful, bathes in a tub filled with young ladies' blood. Pretty scary, huh?

Superstitious beliefs are also inclined with Mary’s story. One of these is the belief that when there’s a dead person in a house, every mirror must be covered or else you’ll see the dead person by your side.

It is also believed that in order to stop young ladies in admiring their faces very much, the story about Mary was created.

A romantic twist about this mirror legend says that in a dark night, you alone must go to a room with a mirror. It will be then that you’ll see a glimpse of your future husband or wife. If, you see the face of the devil instead of you lover, then it is said that you will die before your marriage. Now that’s bloody!

But wait! There’s one more! There are stories that also regard Mary, the Mother of Jesus as Bloody Mary. Not in a devilish sense but because of her suffering as seen in the Madonna dela Pieta.

However scary her story is, Bloody Mary has earned her throne in the urban legends. Tales of her curses, screams and cries will haunt every mirror and every soul which reflects on them…

If Bloody Mary’s story is real or not, a lesson sneaks out from the mirror.

It is just so funny that sometimes, we search for our fears, not our strengths. So funny that we expect her freaking face instead of our own reflection. That we look for the face of a devil instead for the sheltering safe of God…

Reflect… 

A NIGHT ON A GRAVEYARD

I saw this back in my old notes and BOOM! Though it seems very 'High School' for me, it is still my work. It talks about the first murder on Earth.

This story should have never been told

But on this page it took its hold

Gripped its words and freezing, it mold

A grim tale on a night so cold

A man in coat who is calmly sitting

On a forgotten tomb, void but breathing

Touched the lifeless name, silently bleating

And moaned about the oblivion of living

He screamed to the ‘one’ who in the tomb is lying,

“The world led the worst living and I am aging

But you won’t open up, I have been long waiting…”

But as still as the night, the tomb answered nothing

He whacked the tomb, agonized and started crying

Tears of long ago, on his face started flowing

But the tomb revealed no one—on it is nothing

But charred bones, frayed hair tendrils—nothing but nothing

He walked again back to the ages of the night

On the tomb nothing remained but a single light

That watched the name “Abel” on its forgotten flight

Away from Cain—then the darkness ate the night…

PINOY ADVENTURES: The Soulmate Charade

I am in my third year in college now. In three years of staying in another house and living with students like me, I have learned a lot of things that a gregarious being like me should know. I learned to go along with different people. I learned how to cook my food, do my laundry, wake up with just the use of a noisy alarm clock, fight for what I know is right and most of all, live.

Six days a week, I’m away from my home. Six days a week, I face people who, like me, strive to survive the rattling hands of learning. I live in a dormitory. Every afternoon after class, I return to a dormitory, to my second home.

As students, we face a lot of challenges of every day – shortage of allowance, shortage of food, shortage of clothes and many others. But we Filipinos are known to smile despite of problems. We laugh even though strong rains flood us. We smile even though there are no foods on the table. And we laugh even though our pockets are empty. And when we get bored – we entertain ourselves.

In this juncture, let me share with you what happened on my first year in our dormitory -- an initiation that almost every freshman experienced. It all started one Tuesday night (we don’t have classes during Wednesdays) when the senior students in our dormitory decided to “initiate” us – by meeting our 'soulmates.'

All right, it went this way. A senior student asked us if we want to meet our 'soulmates.' Of course, who wouldn't say no? We all said YES and we all met our 'soulmates!' (Yahoo!)

Before our meet-your-soul-mate moment, we were asked to stay together in a room – we will meet our 'soulmates' one by one. When the first person went out of the room, we bid her ''Good luck," still not sure of what is waiting outside. We waited for her for about 10 minutes and when she came back, a smile was plastered on her face. I noticed that her hair was wet but I ignored it. She said she really saw her soul mate! Gosh, you can imagine the excitement we felt. One by one, each went out of the room and came back saying affirmingly. As my turn came nearer, I felt backing out saying that it could be dark magic they are using. I imagined the Devil haunting me just because I used the dark art for flirting! I even thought that the people of the dormitory are people who want to earn followers for the Devil.

Here is how I met my 'soulmate.'

I saw the eldest dormitorian waiting for me in the dark. A lone candle is on her side and a stainless plate is next to it. She asked me if I really wanted to do it. I said yes and she gave a sisterly smile. The first thing she made me do was to close my eyes -- no peeking -- because I won’t be able to see my soul mate if I cheat. So I obeyed the instructions dutifully while she laid the plate on my bare hands and told me to speak after her. She spoke in Latin while setting the plate on my hands on a circular motion. After, she put my hands on my eyes, still speaking the words. I felt like she’s giving me the power to see my soul mate. She let me touch my cheeks and told me to think of a person I like so I did. She told me to open my eyes. I saw her and I realize that I trust this sister. She smiled at me and told me to go to the next room where a mirror is waiting.

This is it! I’m gonna see whoever HE is! I felt fear as I walked nearer to the mirror. Who could I be seeing? Did I just use black magic? My emotions are mixed up; I don’t know which one to feel. The mirror is so large and another dormitorian was next to it waiting for me to meet my 'soulmate.' As I was nearing the mirror, I knew. I should have seen it coming! I was shocked to see that image! Next thing I know I was screaming but the dormitorian with me calmed me up.

***

After 5 minutes I came back to the room where those who haven’t seen their soul mates were waiting. They asked me if I saw my 'soulmate.' I smiled and said the truth.

“YES, I SAW MY SOUL, MATE.”

They all smiled and as the next one went out of the room with an excited smile, I stopped myself from laughing while thinking of the talk of the next day -- about a bunch of freshmen who wanted to see their 'soulmates' but instead saw a reflection of their own faces, doodled with black soothe from their own hands and the eldest dormitorian in the dark holding a stainless plate over a candle and smiling about why little girls are easily convinced with an old time ‘initiation.'

I felt like a child giggling about a harmless prank. I can laugh.