Anchors Away!

We're going on a Disney Cruise! My mom, my two sisters and I! This is a vacation 365 days in the making! It's a seven-night Western Carribean cruise taking off at Port Canaveral in Florida. We'll be stopping by Key West, Britain's Grand Cayman, Cozumel in Mexico, and Castaway Cay in the Bahamas - Disney's private island resort!

The three of us kids-at-heart are eagerly looking forward to a week of wide-eyed wonder and endless fun. We all grew up on Disney, each of us assuming a character since childhood. Our eldest had always been Snow White because of her love of animals and "little ones" (she happens to be a pediatric nurse). She's also a romantic, dreaming of a Prince Charming that will one day bring life to what she perceives as her dull existence with a kiss without her knowing. Hahaha! (,")

Our youngest instantly identified with Mulan after we saw the movie because it's a groundbreaking Disney character being the first Asian lead and a defiance to the conventional female protagonist with golden hair, an endowed chest and a damsel-in-distress syndrome where the boy saves the girl. She also digs philosophical ideas and words of wisdom, and the film is replete with it being about an ancient Chinese legend.

As for me, my character is the one who whimsically chased his shadow one foggy London night and then flew to the second star to the right with the Darlings. Yup, Peter Pan. Aside from namesake, there's also a little boy in me who refuses to grow up. Voltes V, Transformers and Thundercats still excite me. I enjoy rap music until now. And I can never get enough of the ecstacy getting lost in theme parks.

On this cruise, the four of us will surely have a ball with all the Disney characters in tow! But most important, this holiday cruise is a celebration of Mama's birthday on the 31st. Yes, we'll be out at sea to celebrate her 60th and usher in the New Year!

Aye! Aye! Aye!

Scent of Al Pacino

I forgot to tell my uncle my flight departs from LAX so his direction was toward Burbank airport. We had to make a drastic change of course 15 minutes on the way and he had to make extra effort to make it to LAX on time.

My pulse was racing as we approached departure 30 minutes before boarding. Time seemed to be ticking much faster and stronger I can almost hear and feel the second hand of any clock or wristwatch like it was whacking at me from all imaginable corners of my vision. Swift goodbyes were exchanged and off I was toward the airline counter. It was a relief to have made it inside the airport.

But relief was shattered when the self check-in kiosk I was using was malfunctioning. I snagged a passing airline representative and was told nothing was wrong with the machine. I'm late for check-in and the machine won't process my papers anymore! Oh my goodness! The large clock behind her beckoned at 23 minutes before boarding, its second hand going "DONG! DONG! DONG!" inside my head. She led me to a counter with a live agent and wished me "Good luck."

I could sense the immediacy in the agent's gestures and voice as she asked me questions and processed my paper. She knew time was against me. After some clickity-clacks on the keyboard, she finally stood up from her chair, handed me my boarding pass and told me to make my way to my gate - which was at the adjacent building! - and fast!

With only 18 minutes before boarding, I hurriedly checked-in my luggage, rushed through security inspection, zoomed along hallways and escalators, and darted past other passengers, flight crew members and airport staff to get to the other building where my gate is of all places! My heart was pounding and my breath was speeding. Finally, I made it to the gate with only 10 minutes before boarding. Whew!

Breathless with throat dry and warmth coming out of my face, I stood awhile to regain footing. I scanned the lounge and was relieved to see all other passengers wallowing away in their seats, sipping coffee or surfing the web. Despite the adrenaline rush my body, exhausted as it was, started to succumb to sleep. My circadian rhythmn couldn't catch up with the red eye I was chasing that night.

Just then, there was a sound of people coming in from the other end of the lounge behind me. A batch of new arrivals. They were of assorted colors, sizes and idiosyncracies, it was a rather relaxing spectacle. Later on, majority of the arriving passengers seemed to have deplaned as people coming out came fewer and with less bustle.

Suddenly, someone seeming otherworldy familiar emerged. "Wait a minute", I said to myself, "Is that Al Pacino?!" I dismissed it as too good to be true. "Naaah. Couldn't possibly be." A few more steps and..."Oh my goodness! It is him!

My heart started to go for another round of pounding as he was coming toward me. Me! Not anyone else in the lounge! Me! He seemed to know where he was going because he wasn't veering away!

With my pulse in full speed again I stood there frozen. He was coming at me right smack in my little corner of the walkway. I was slack-jawed, bug-eyed and definitely starstruck! It's Al Pacino! Although blood was again propelled to rush through my veins and go through all parts of my body, somehow my brain wasn't being perfused sufficiently because I couldn't think. I thought I should say something. But what?! "He's coming nearer! Think of something! Nooow!"

Time seemed to have shifted to slow-motion.

It was like an epiphanous moment in a movie with choirs singing an aria as he was...

right in front of me...

walking slowly toward me...

walking slowly right beside me...

and walking slowly right past my back.

All I could do was follow him with my eyes and make a 180 degree turn of the head to catch him on my other side.

Just like that and he disappeared into a First Class Lounge - right behind me.

He was like a whiff of air.

It was a fleeting moment.

He was so near yet so far.

"Ting-ding! Delta Airlines Flight blah-blah-blah bound for Orlando, Florida is now ready for boarding."

I just stood there with nary a movement. Only my respiratory muscles were at work. I looked intently at the special lounge's door that just ushered in a Hollywood celebrity as if my eyes had the power to open it. Helplessly starstruck and haplessly bewildered, I rolled my eyes in all four corners of the door, ended at the doorknob, and looked at the door again in its entirety. I gazed back at the arrival gate where he came from and imagined it all over again. It was only then I was able to comprehend what just happened.

I saw Al Pacino, the thespian.

I saw Don Michael Corleone who told me to "...keep your friends close, but your enemies closer."

I saw Carlito Brigante who reasoned, "It's who I am Gail. It's what I am. Right or wrong. I can't change that."


I saw Viktor Taransky who surmised, "Our ability to manufacture fraud now exceeds our ability to detect it."

I saw Lt. Col. Frank Slade who cried, "I'm in the daaark heeere!"

And in my recollection I remembered how handsome he was, how unassuming was his bearing wearing only black shirt and trousers, a dark gray jacket and a messenger bag on his left shoulder. I realized how close I was to asking for his autograph, firmly shaking his hands and deciding not to take a bath the next day. He was so close I could have almost smelled him.

"Ting-ding! Delta Airlines flight blah-blah-blah will now continue with the boarding process."

Reality finally kicked in. I took in a deep breath and queued up. With a chuckle, my head was shaking in ecstatic disbelief as I tried to rationalize my reaction...or non-reaction. I vowed to do better next celebrity encounter even if preceded by a tension-filled incident. After that near brush with unadulterated ecstacy, I figured I'll probably dream of seeing a lot of stars during my sleep high up in the clouds.

Encoded Emotions

Mama is in Legaspi, the provincial city where all three of us her children were born and raised. Our eldest is in Florida. Our youngest is in Metro Manila. I, the middle child, am in California. Not so long ago we agreed to meet after not having seen each other between eight months and five years. No, we were not about to converge in one particular geographical point. We were to stay put and communicate at the touch of a button.

It was a big day for all of us especially Mama who, being a baby boomer, was about to embark on an electronic journey unlike any of her previous ventures. She has gone as far as being a competently dextrous and jargon-enabled consumer of text messaging. But the keyboard and monitor are alien to her. Say "mouse" and she might be on her toes for a rodent resident. And it amazes her no end how a small widget as a webcam was about to enable all of us to see each other despite thousands of miles of oceans in between.

In place of location, the different time zones became the order of the event. Night and day were about to mesh as each of us sought out a terminal from which to transmit our words and image, our thoughts and feelings: Mama and our youngest had to go to an internet cafe, our eldest and I each had an accessible PC from home.

Like any pioneer endeavor, we spent a great deal of time and effort stumbling though the technical set-up. With help from shop assistants, Mama was the first to broadcast her image and voice. I was smiling from ear to hear seeing her with a rather large headset clumping on her ears. And the microphone curving outwards to her lips made her seem like a burger joint crew captain or Madonna in concert.

In between configuring our respective pieces of chilly metals and hard plastic, our mother, being virtually on top of it all, was regulating the conversation. My sisters were simultaneously conversing with her while integrating their hardwares and softwares. No sooner was everyone transmitting spoken words and streaming images - everyone but me. Unfortunately, my audio and video were not in their optimal functionality. I can hear and see them all but they couldn't do likewise with me. I was digitally detached. So, the keyboard became my tool and encoded language my format. My words will have to be typewritten in response to theirs spoken.

They were all quite dismayed at my technological disadvantage. In the vastness of the internet universe, the only thing Mother planet wanted was to see and hear her terestrially distant yet emotionally proximate sattelites. Seeking reassurance, she asked me if I could hear and see her. I inscribed, "Iyo po, Mama, dangog ta 'ka, hiling ta 'ka." (Yes, Mama, I can hear you, I can see you.) She looked wondrously into the monitor and uttered the words that seemed to have magically appeared onscreen. When she got to the last word, she sat in silence and swelled with tears of joy.

So, there we were in different parts of the world conveying to each other through the internet our significant joys and pains, our little triumphs and defeats, our current issues and concerns; I, in particular, communicating with my fingers. From then on, our web conferences had become a constant electronic affair averaging twice a month, with our four-way audio-video interface in full technical functioning.

It's amazing how technology touches human lives, how it enables us to transcend cold hardware and insentient software and transmit emotions. In certain ways, technology does brings people closer together. How it equips us to navigate our way to other people's hearts is nothing short of awe-inspiring.

Para ho!

Malaking tulong sa karaniwang mamamayan ang pampublikong transportasyon. Bagamat mas matagal ang biyahe, abot-kaya ang halaga. Isa ako noon sa libu-libong sakay ng mga bus, dyip, MRT, LRT, taksi at traysikel sa Kalakhang Maynila; nakikipagsabayan sa libu-libong taong paroo't parito. Sa pagsisimula ko dito sa Amerika, pampublikong transportasyon din ang tuwina kong karamay sa pagbibiyahe.

High-tech ang mga bus dito sa Los Angeles county! Karamiha'y may live map kung saan makikita ang lansangang tinatahak ng bus at iba't-ibang kalye sa paligid na dadaanan nito. Meron pang crawler (para sa mga hearing-impaired) kung saan mababasa ang paparating at susunod na hinto, at voice over (para sa mga vision-impaired) na magsasabi ng gayunding impormasyon. May 1-800 number din na tutukoy kung saan ka maghihintay, ano'ng bus ang sasakyan mo at ano'ng oras ang pick-up ng bus. Sasabihin mo lang ang panggagalingan at paroroonan mo. Pati haba ng biyahe at oras ng dating sa destinasyon, malalaman mo. Hanep!

Pagsakay ko ng bus isang araw, tinanong ko yung drayber kung dadaanan ang ganitong abenida. Palibhasa immigrant din tulad ko at hindi pa siguro bihasa sa Ingles, tumango lang siya, ngumiti ng bahagya at tinuro sa akin kung saan ko dapat ihulog ang barya. "Naku," sabi ko sa sarili ko, "mukhang mapapasabak ang navigating skills ko." Nalaman ko rin na ang partikular na bus na iyon, palibhasa ibang linya, ay walang live map, crawler at voice over. Ganda.

Todo-alerto ako sa mga street sign. Para akong may leeg ng giraffe at mga mata ng lawin sa pagmatyag sa mga bintana. Ilang beses ko ding tinitingnan ang printed schedule. Kabado ako kasi may takdang oras ang hinto ng mga bus dito. Kapag nalampasan mo, sira ang schedule mo, at malamang hindi ka makakarating sa paroroonan mo sa tamang oras.

Ilang saglit pa, nasilayan ko na ang street sign na inaabangan ko! Muntik ako mapasigaw ng "Para!" Hinila ko ang kordon para tumigil ang bus at bumaba ako. Binasa ko ang pangalan ng kalye sa street sign at sa schedule. Tama! Isang ngiti at buntong-hininga ang pinakawalan ko. Pero namalikmata ako sa hawak kong papel. May nakaligtaan ako. Tama ang isang lansangan pero mali yung isa! Hindi iyon ang intersection na dapat kong binabaan! Aaarrggh!

Bumalik ako sa bus stop at naupo sa bench para hintayin ang susunod na bus. Sheet! Ayokong ma-late! Tila dalawang oras ang dalawampung minutong paghihintay. Para hindi mabato at marelaks-relaks ng konti naisipan kong kumanta (sa isipan lang, ikaw naman). At hindi ko naiwasan bumirit ng:

"Liman-dipang taong nag-uunahan

Sa uunting sasakyang nagdaraan

Sayang ang d'yipning kanina'y lulan

At ngayo'y nagsisisi sa aking pagbubusisi

Malaking pagkakamali!

"Para, Mama, sasakay po

Liman-dipang taong nagtutulakan

Para, Mama, sasakay po

Liman-dipang taong nag-uunahan

Para na sabi, para na sabi

Para, Mama, para na diyan sa tabi."

Mga tatlong beses kong naulit yung kanta bago dumating ang sumunod na bus na may parehong karatula. Tiniyak ko ngayon sa drayber na mukhang Asyano na dadaan nga ito sa bababaan ko at sabihan niya ako kung malapit na. "Sige, hijo, ako'ng bahala," sagot niya! Aba, Pilipino! Okey pala'ng kumanta ng OPM sa bus stop. Para akong nagharana at nakatanggap ng matamis na sagot. Pagbaba ko, binigyan niya ako ng libreng tiket para sa susunod kong sasakyan.

Paglipat ko ng bus, inabisuhan ko ang drayber na sabihan ako pagdating namin sa ganitong kalye. Bumalik ang pagkakampante ko dahil may live map, crawler at voice over ang bus. Ilang hinto ang nagdaan at narating na namin ang isa sa dalawang lansangan na inaantabayanan ko. Hindi na 'kako ako magkakamaling bumaba sa unang sulyap ng isang kalye. Dapat tama ang dalawang kalye ng intersection.

Makalipas ang tatlumpung minuto, hindi ko pa nakikita sa live map ang pangalawang kalyeng inaabangan ko at nalampasan na rin namin yung nauna. Kumunot ang noo ko. Tiningnan ko ang schedule. Labinlimang minuto lang dapat ang biyahe mula sa pinanggalingan ko. Umiling-iling ako at napangiti ng malumanay. Nalampasan na nga namin ang dapat kong bababaan. Ayon sa drayber, hindi nakatakda sa crawler o voice over ang kalyeng hanap ko dahil pagpapatuloy ito ng isang pangunahing lansangan, at ang pangalan ng huli ang nakalagay sa mapa. Galing. Humingi siya ng paumanhin at binigyan ako ng tiket pabalik.

Hintay uli. Hindi ko na nagawang kumanta. Dumating ang bus makalipas ang dalawampung minuto. Sumakay ako sa ika-apat na pagkakataon at sa wakas nakarating sa destinayon. Pero mahigit isang oras na akong late sa appointment. Hindi na ako tinanggap. Bad trip - in both senses! Wala akong nagawa kundi magsimulang maglakbay pauwi.

Abang ako ngayon ng bus pabalik. Tanghaling tapat na at marahas ang sinag ng araw. Hindi ko na alam ang schedule ng bus sa ganoong oras kaya't walang katiyakan ang paghihintay ko. Nabatid ko na lang na madalang ang bus tuwing low hours. Isang oras din ang dumaan bago dumating ang isang bus. Isang oras, pare! Shet! Sakay ako agad. Ibinaba ako sa isang highway stop para doo'y maghintay uli. Liblib ang lugar. Walang bahay sa paligid. May abandonadong bodega sa likod ko at gusaling hindi pa tapos itayo sa harap. Isang munting kagubatan ang kinaroroonan ko.

Hintay uli. At sa muli kong paghihintay, hindi ko naiwasang maisip ang Maynila. Kung nandoon 'kako ako ngayon kakaway lang ako may titigil nang bus, dyip o taksi sa harapan ko - kahit saan, kahit kailan. Nagkalat din ang mga traysikel at pedikab sa bawat sulok. Nagawa ko uli maghintay ng isa pang oras, pero pagpalo ng orasan sa ika-animnapung minuto't wala pa ring bus, nagpasya na akong maglakad. At sa mga sandaling iyon nagtiwala uli ako sa biyayang hatid ng awiting Pinoy kaya't pumakawala ng:

"Hinahanap-hanap kita, Manila

Ang ingay mong kay sarap sa tenga

Mga dyipni mong nagliliparan

Mga lalake mong naggwa-gwapuhan (,")

Take me back in your arms, Manila

Promise me you'll never let go."

Tinulungan naman ako ng napagtanungan kong mga kasalubong para matunton ang bus stop. Katunayan, may isang ale, kasama ang dalawa niyang tsikiting, na hinatid ako. "You look like you need help," sabi niya. Hindi ako nagtipid sa pasasalamat. "Thank you very much for giving me a ride considering I'm a stranger," sabi ko.

Ilang saglit pa at dumating na sa wakas ang bus na maghahatid sa akin sa kabihasnan. Hindi ko maipaliwanag ang tuwa nang makita ko ang bus sa di-kalayuan, tumigil ito sa harapan ko at pasukin ko ang malamig na looban nito. Tila biktima ako ng isang kalamidad at ang bus ang dumating na rescue mission.

Sa totoo lang, maganda ang sistema ng bus dito - organisado. Tuloy mga pasahero nagiging maayos sa pagtala ng lakbayin nila, at hindi malayong maiangkop nila ang pagiging organisado sa maraming aspeto ng kanilang pamumuhay. Kailangan lang isaulo ang mga rota at oras ng biyahe at maging alerto sa kinaroroonan. At para sa akin, pihadong mas maganda ang biyahe kapag OPM ang humihirit sa sound system ng bus.

"Basta't tayo'y magkasama

Laging mayro'ng umagang kay ganda

Pagsikat ng araw

May dalang liwanag

Sa ating pangarap

Haharapin natin"

Overwhelmed

For a long time I was staring at this blog window blank. A dizzying compendium of thoughts and words struggled to make their way from my mind to the screen to no avail. My head was brimming, almost exploding, with issues and concerns that needed to be sorted out, sifted through and absorbed.

Culture shock. These are the key words to my current stream of consciousness. It was right under my nose but I was oblivious. As I've written in Coming to America, "so many things to do, plenty of places to go to, a multitude of people to meet, and an onerous amount of information to digest."

To say "migrating to another country is not easy" is an utter understatement. Travelling, which I love to do, is one thing. Relocating to live and work in a totally different environment is a whole different ballgame. You have to play by the rules to reach goal. But first, you must comprehend the rules to play the game smart.

The most continguous and cumbersome task related to coming here is reading, understanding and accomplishing all applications for my immigration. It never occured to me there will be about five or six to file. Up to now I'm still lost as to what I485, I685, I75 and etcetera indicates. I'm not even sure of those alphanumeric codes. One might even be an interstate highway.

The second thing I can think of is opening a checking account. I've never had one, ever, which goes to say I was neither in any kind of business nor moneyed enough to be signing that rectangular piece of paper every now and then. Bank terms are quite technical for me. My head aches taking in all those instructions and terms and conditions. How I wish information can be presented on a more exoteric level.

Add to the above the fact that English is not native to me. Both my reading and listening comprehensions have now been put to the test, perhaps incessantly. It's quite a challenge for me to correspond in English, be it in a professional setting or a casual occassion. Written communication is more manageable because you work on your own time. But talking to someone or a group of people has a sense of urgency because feedback is immediate.

I was once speaking to a live agent over the phone and he was talking too fast and his jargon was too specialized for me to be able to keep up. So I got lost somewhere in the conversation and was constantly asking and confirming information he needed. When I asked him to, "Say that again, please." He replied in a rather annoyed and contemptuous tone, "I don't know how else to put it other than the way I did!" Taken aback, I remained polite enough to say, "I'm sorry, sir, English is not my first language so please bear with me." I could've been more assertive or chosen to be an equal a**hole, though.

Let's get to getting around town. On several occassions, I had needed to take the bus or train. The sense of adventure is definitely a welcome excitement, especially if you're discovering cities as diverse as San Francisco and Los Angeles. But exploring the world around you can leave you on tenterhooks, especially if you're on your own. I will expound on this on an upcoming blog entry about using public transportation.

Of course, there's also private transportation. Although I haven't driven long enough back home, my friends tell me it's good that I haven't formed a lot of (incorrect) habits which can be hard to break. I read the DMV booklet cover to cover several times to get acquainted with road rules. I also took driving lessons which was nerve-wracking because you go behind the wheel, and my instructor being an immigrant was, like me, linguistically challenged. My efforts paid off. I passed all three tests - written, vision and road - on first take.

Computers and the Internet are two inevitably intertwined avenues where there are much to explore. It's like a whole universe out there. Up to now I still don't know how to work blogrolling, rss, xml and atom. And that's just the tip of the iceberg, or a microchip off the CPU. I often find myself jabbering about esoteric terminologies and softwares. And they come in gigabytes, baby! Go configure. Newfangled gadgets and complex gizmos? I honestly find myself veering away from them until I get familiar with their sight. My technology acumen definitely has room for exploration and possibilities.

Well, those are just about what I choose to write about for now. I can already foresee this early future concerns I have to brace myself for. Sooner or later I will have to deal with car ownership and maintenance which entails paperworks to be accomplished, proceedings to go through, another technical tome to ponder on, and passed-on knowledge to weigh in the mind.

Coming from a financially simplistic life, having a credit card of my own is another matter. I pretty much know how to use it - flash, swipe and sign. But there are nitty-gritty details of credit card use which are very important to grasp and remember.

I miss internet cafes because here, PCs, like cars, are necessities, not luxuries. I will have to buy a laptop or desktop soon, and that would mean another set of technical and actual contraptions to grapple with.

(Deep breath)

Oh, well. One day at a time. Come to think of it, after having orderly written about being overwhelmed, I don't feel as swamped as before.

Halloween, The Beginning

No, this is not a write-up about an upcoming prequel to the successful horror movie franchise, even though I'm pretty sure Michael Myers and his legions of fans will be ecstatic about it. Neither is this an introduction as to how the Halloween season came to be or got its name. Nor is this about how the practice of trick or treating came about.

This year's Halloween simply just happens to be...my first. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha! Did I get 'ya there for a moment? Well, then there's your trick. (,")

Yes, it's my first Halloween here in the U.S. where they celebrate it with much bustle. I heard they are closing West Hollywood and Sunset Boulevard for the celebration. It must be exciting! I wish I can join the street party later tonight but I can't.

One, I don't have a costume. It's too early for me to be spending much for it when I haven't been here long enough to save up.

Improvise using things at home? I've thought about it. Maybe I'll grab an old pitch black blanet, inflict it with some ghastly tears, and bring a huge cleaver along. Har-har-har-har-har! There's some meat from the fridge I can thaw and use the blood for added props. Naaah, it's going to stench. Besides, a costume, as the name implies, is supposed to be make-believe. It's too risky to bring a real sharp I might end up inadvertently slicing up someone. And my aunt's going to wonder why her cutlery's incomplete.

Two, I don't have a car yet. I don't think my uncle & aunt, who are baby boomers, are excited about the street party as I am . They must feel such events are way behind them already. Besides, they'll be coming home tired from work tonight. We'll just have to settle for the trick or treaters who'll come by later. Public transportation? An access is quite far from where we live, and it's too much of a hassle and a risk with my costume in mind, don't you think?

Too bad, I know. I'll just make up in next year's Halloween. This early I've been conjuring up images from the darkest recesses of my mind as to who I'll come out as next year. For sure, I will dress up as one my horror icons. Here's a peek at three.

Jason Voorhees! Oh, yes! He is my ultimate childhood horror film hero. He has such a lingering presence that we've been through a lot together, from my prepubescence to early adulthood. Hak-hak-hak! His regenerative abilities make him immortal. They've killed him so many times and yet he's still around. You go, Jason! I wouldn't be surprised to see a billboard for "Friday the 13th part XI" (that is, not counting "Freddy vs. Jason" as part of either franchise). And you have to give the man the respect he deserves. He happens to get a lot of things done without saying much. Add to that his nanotechnology-induced reanimated body and enhanced invulnerability (as if he needs it). He's a real killer in every sense of the word.


Freddy Kreuger! Okay, I'm a tad large to assume his role but it's make-believe anyway. I'm sure I can get away donning a large-striped, green and red-orange sweatshirt, an unmistakably ghoulish fedora and his delightfully diabolical sharped gloves. It will be an honor to continue his lurid legacy of terrorizing people in their dreams. Hee-hee-hee. "A Nightmare on Elm Street" is by far the most imaginative horror film in its time and one of the most original horror films of all time. Horror master Wes Craven really had something brewing in his devil's pot with it. And even though most of the sequels are lame, I remain a loyal fan of this disfigured fright film fixture. Freddy took "nightmare" and "macabre" to inventive levels it never before triumphed in.

Last but not least, an Alien soldier from the mind of H.R. Giger! Now this is a kick-ass, badass character from the most compelling sci-fi/horror movie franchise of the 20th century. The primordial film from Ridley Scott was atmospheric. The adrenaline-pumped sequel from James Cameron was electrifying. The third installment from David Fincher had a deliciously doomsday feel. And Jean-Pierre Jeunet's "Resurrection" of the Alein legacy was refreshing. Lt. Ellen Ripley is a certified action/scifi/horror film heroine. Now, who can beat a genre-crossing and an astonishingly committed performance (earning an acting nomination) from Sigourney Weaver in all films?!

But the real stars of the show are the alien creatures who jump out of their eggs or ovums as facehuggers and leave an alien embryo to gestate inside the human body which, in turn, will eventually make its grand entrance into the world as a chestbuster. The adult alien has acid for blood, two sets of incredibly sharp teeth, and the dexterity of an ultimate killing machine. What more can you ask for?

Well, that's as far as my dream - or nightmare - of mephistophelean reveling on Halloween can get for now. I can't wait for next year. There's just so many nasty things you can do in so little time.

Muahahahahahahahaha!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Photo credits: Michael Myers & Jason Voorhees images from Wikipedia. Freddy Kreuger image from official movie site. Alien image from official movie site.

Coming to America

The promising sentiment that the United States of America is a nation of immigrants became ever more perceptible in the last several months when arguments on immigration policies started to simmer and inevitably reached boiling points. The lure of this proverbial land of milk and honey had beckoned millions of people across the globe to come and partake of the bounty since several centuries ago.

Like most people, I came to America to seek greater opportunity, "greener pastures" being the timeworn phrase to refer to this generations-old ambition. Although I did not belong to the lower socioeconomic stratum, my life in the Philippines could be better. In a developing country that leaves much to be desired in its social, political and economic structure, and where the underprivileged far outnumber the affluent, a commoner's day's worth of labor is oftentimes less than a day's worth of decent goods. Common people's lives are stories of daily survival - how one gets by each day, one day at a time. The first level of Abraham Maslow's hierarchy of needs had nowhere been more palpable.

Providentially, my parents compelled me to take up Nursing in college. These times, being in the health care industry gives one advantage migrating to developed countries. It was an inopportune time, however, when I finally garnered my bachelor. The U.S. was struggling with recession. In effect, Philippine nurses scrambled into hospitals in the country creating a surplus of supply. Most of the new graduates found themselves in odd jobs and workplaces incongruous to their college education. Ties replaced stethoscopes over the necks of some. Others started to figure bills and coins over a counter rather than determine the number of gauze pads and surgical instruments over an operating table. There were those who opted to put up their own business. The rest, I included, went for further studies.

I eventually found work in the communications industry. My goal was fairly common as anyone else's when I started earning money. I set out to achieve three things: to provide myself the basic necessities of food, clothing, water and shelter; to buy a house, a car and a dog; and from time to time, to indulge myself and my loved ones. All that with my own hard-earned money. Not so much to ask for, is it?

But almost five years being part of the country's workforce did not entirely fulfill all three. Materialistic as it may sound, it felt utterly pathetic that I cannot even acquire all essentials with my own money. That being the case, I could not even begin to conceive being able to possess not only things I needed but also wanted. Auspiciously by then, things were again looking up - and overseas - for health care professionals. I decided to set my sights on a harbor I deserted a long time ago and prepared myself to leave behind the country that I have grown to love fervently despite its imperfections.

It was not easy to go back to Nursing as it had been almost a decade since I last read significant literature and, more important, nurtured another person's health and life. Armed with perseverance to make life better for me and my loved ones, and words of encouragement from classmates who have established themselves in different parts of the world, I read endlessly, underwent training diligently, and conscientiously reviewed and took all the necessary exams to become a U.S. R.N.

Now in the land of the plenty and still reeling from culture shock as of this writing, I feel astounded starting afresh in a strange world and making sense of this overwhelming new life as an immigrant. It is both a daunting and delightful state, like being left alone in a mansion of labyrinthine hallways, ornate stairways and massive doors requiring riddles to solve that will lead to rooms full of endless possibilities. There are so many things to do, plenty of places to go to, a multitude of people to meet, and an onerous amount of information to digest. I figured it best to take things as how most people went about life back home in my beloved country - one day at a time.

Thoughts about millions of immigrants that have come before me inevitably occupy my mind, and I could not help but ponder on my story and confess as to how it pallidly pales in comparison to those who came here for essentially more pressing reasons.

I read about this Rwandan man who escaped from ethnic cleansing and political oppression. He swam across the border to reach safety in Congo. Wanting to be as far away from his hauntingly harrowing past and imminently perilous present as possible, he settled in Austria and was able to come to the U.S.A. about three years ago and is now teaching human rights.

Another story is of a Tibetan girl locked up in prison since age 13 for the crime of peacefully professing her faith. After 11 years of incarceration, enduring beatings and harsh treatment, she has now found asylum in this land of the free and is a student, learning English so that she can speak out to more people about Tibet's cry for religious freedom.

And then there is this boy who was sneaked across the border from poverty-stricken Mexico for a chance at a better life. His American dream started to take flight when he was accepted into Harvard Medical School. Now a legalized citizen, he is a resident at a medical center in L.A. that provides health care services primarily to less fortunate blacks and Latinos.

Various people have individual reasons and personal stories of coming to America, but these different threads of dreams and desires all weave together to form a strong fabric of one cohesive design or purpose - to live free of the things that make our existence less meaningful and our lives less human.

I have not yet been to the Statue of Liberty but had heard and read about this epochal writing engraved at its foundation. One day I will find myself standing diminutively before that colossal and eminent symbol of empowerment and see with my own eyes, utter with my own lips and feel in my heart the words that have called upon many to make a new life for themselves in this new land:

"Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless,

The tempest-tossed to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Blast Off

It has been more than three years now since I started thinking about having a blog. Time to invest in one is crucial, and propitiously at this point in my life I have the blessing of time on my side to start one. I only hope I can maintain it even for a certain period of time.

Anything first is generally considered a milestone in itself, for examples: firstborn child, first love, first honor, first human in space. This being my first flight into the immense expanse of the blogosphere is quite frightening for me. I have no formal training in professional journalistic writing. My writing manner and style are solely based on how I feel, letting ideas and emotions flow out as they please.

English is my second language, but I will use it as the primary communication tool for this blog. It is a powerful communication medium widely used in a variety of fields such as business, education, and international relations. More important, English is the language of enlightenment. It has been the proverbial weapon against myriad forms of oppression: social inequity, racial prejudice, religious bigotry, political persecution, gender insensitivity, cultural intolerance. It is interesting to note that people who are not native English speakers find reliable use of it to defend themselves against different faces of injustice.

My mother tongue, the Filipino language, I will use from time to time. It is as dynamic as any progressive language can be. It has evolved from the ethnocentric Tagalog to what is now a beginning amalgamation of the plethora of dialects of the Philippine archipelago, with various homages to Chinese, Spanish and English words. It is still largely based on the Tagalog dialect with the hope of developing into a unifying language for the whole 7,107 Philippine islands.

It is of crucial significance that people have an appreciation of their heritage, language being one of its many manifestations. Use it or lose it, as they say. Staying close to the ancestral light is a pertinent lesson I learned thus far in life. It is the light that will guide us in our personal journey. Sir Winston Churchill aptly put it: "The farther backward you can look, the farther forward you can see." We have equivalent words-of-wisdom in Filipino which we refer to as salawikain: "Ang hindi lumingon sa pinanggalingan ay hindi makakarating sa paroroonan." (Those who cannot look back to where they came from cannot get to where they're going). Staying close to the ancestral light also keeps us warm in cold and cruel moments of self-doubt, for it is in embracing our origin are we essentially ourselves.

Writing is said to be cathartic. It's like warm chicken soup in a cold, rainy afternoon. Some people encounter it as hobby, others discover it as livelihood. Writing, for me, though, is neither hobby (or at least, not yet) nor livelihood. I have not written often. My writings had been few and years between. I just write whenever and whatever I feel like. From that vantage point, this blog will probably contain random, run-of-the-mill postings and fleeting moments of literary brilliance.

But I have been blessed with those magical moments of verbal creativity, and when those moments come writing becomes my serving of joy and helping of refuge. As many shades of ink splatter on the pages of my life, it is in writing that I find the passion to make good use of the splatters, creating out of them compositions that render to me my existence more comprehensible, ultimately capturing the world in a more intelligible light.

Wherever this digital journey might take me, I hope it will be in the best interest and toward the enrichment of things that matter to me most. What are they? At this point, I have no freaking idea! Hahaha! I suppose the discoveries will come into light when my thoughts finally come into fruition.

Unang Sabak

Matagal ko nang pinag-iisipan gumawa ng sariling blog. Bigo ako noon mahanapan ng panahon isakatuparan sa pamamagitan nito ang mga kathang walang tigil palutang-lutang sa aking imahinasyon; Maraming responsibilidad na kailangan unahin at mga prayoridad na dapat pagtuunan ng kaukulang pansin. Magkaminsa'y matagal bago ako bisitahin ng antok. Ang pagkagat ng dilim ang nagsisilbing batingaw para maglabasan mula sa aking isipan ang samu't-saring ideya, lumilikha ng animo'y pelikula na walang katapusang gumigiling sa aking ulirat.

Bago ko nasimulan itong paunang salita, maraming pangalan ng blog ang naglaro sa aking isipan. Maraming beses akong nagpalit ng pangalan kaya't ang paunang salitang ito'y dumaan din sa ilang pagbabago bilang pag-aakma sa pangalan ng blog. Bakit "Undress Me Gently"? Kasi para kang naghuhubad sa ibang tao sa pagbahagi mo sa kanila ng iniisip mo, ng nararamdaman mo, ng mga importanteng aspeto ng buhay mo, at ang pagkilala sa isang indibidwal ay hindi nadadaan sa paspasan. Kaalinsabay nito ang pag-asang mas mauunawaan ka ng kaulayaw mo dala ng iyong paggiging makatotohanan sa iyong sarili at sa kanila.

Batid ko ang takot maging personal blogger. Hindi ka ligtas sa pagkilatis ng sinuman sa mundo na may koneksyon sa Internet. Bukod diyan, hindi ako eksperto sa pagsusulat ng ganitong tipo - 'yun bang parang diary o journal. Nagsusulat lang ako tungkol sa mga personal na bagay kung kailan ko, 'ika nga natin, "feel". Isa pa, limitado pa rin kahit paano ang bokabolaryo ko sa Filipino. Pero sa kabilang banda, nakakapagpalaya ang makapagbahagi ng nasasaisip at nasasapuso mo sa pamamagitan ng pagsusulat - putaktihin man ito ng batikos, yakapin ng pang-unawa o paulanan ng papuri.

Ingles ang gagamitin kong midyum ng komunikasyon para sa blog na ito para mas maraming tao ang makatagpo ng kaugnayan sa aking mga akda (akda raw, o!). Pero dahil walang kasing sarap ang makapagbasa ng sulatin sa wikang sarili, gagamitin ko rin ang Filipino paminsan-minsan. Ngayong nasa ibang bansa na ako, mas lalo ko pa dapat panatilihing buhay at pagtibayin sa aking sarili ang isa sa mga matayog na pagkakakilanlan ng ating kultura - wika - sa pagsusulat man o pakikipag-usap. Bakit 'kanyo? Itanong kay Jose Rizal. Sagot niya? Ang hindi marunong magmahal sa sariling wika ay higit pa ang amoy sa malansang isda.

Marahil pinakadamang palagay ko sa pagkakaroon ng blog ay isa itong buntong hininga para sa mga taong tulad ko na naging daan ang pagsusulat sa pagpapayabong ng mga ngiti at paghihilom ng mga sugat na natamo habang namumuhay sa mundong ibabaw, gaano man kadalas o kadalang ang mga pagkakataong iyon. Ang mga panahong yaon ay mahahalagang bahagi ng ating personal na kasaysayan sapagkat ang mga ito'y mga pagkakataon ng pasasalamat at pagsubok, ng biyaya at kalinawan.

Dito sa panibago at panimula kong paglalakbay sa walang sukdulang kalawakan ng blogosphere, mula sa aking isipan hanggang sa computer screen ng sinumang makatagpo sa aking mga katha saan mang sulok ng daigdig, umaasa akong mas makikilala ko pa ang aking sarili at ang munting unibersong ginagalawan ko. Sa pamamagitan nito'y makakapag-ambag ako ng kahit kaunting bahagi ng aking pagkatao sa mundo.

Sa ngayon, hanggang dito na muna at maraming salamat.