Did you know that that's what an Oval is called in the Philippine tongue?
Yeah, a Bilo-haba.
I learned something new today :) This is what I get from watching Saturday kiddie shows. :)
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Early umbilical cord clamping may interrupt ''nature''s first stem cell transplant''
This article was taken from Topnews.com.
Basically, it states that nutrients from the mother are transferred to the child by delaying clamping the umbilical cord. These nutrients affect the child as it grows up-- supposedly for the better.
Once again this is a snippet of an article taken from Topnews.com. Click on the link for the full article.
Basically, it states that nutrients from the mother are transferred to the child by delaying clamping the umbilical cord. These nutrients affect the child as it grows up-- supposedly for the better.
Delaying clamping the umbilical cord for a slightly longer period of time allows more umbilical cord blood volume to transfer from mother to infant and, with that critical period extended, many good physiological "gifts" are transferred through ''nature''s first stem cell transplant'' occurring at birth, they said.
Once again this is a snippet of an article taken from Topnews.com. Click on the link for the full article.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
I recently had a traumatic experience with a homosexual. A bakla. I’d rather not go into details. Suffice it to say that I felt quite violated and helpless, to think that I was doing that person a favor. No, I was not touched, but he got very close to my comfort zone and it happened very close—too close to home.
Anyway. As I was relating the story to my friends, hoping for support, another gay guy, albeit from my circle of friends, blurted out; asking if I was gay. I said no. He followed up with a couple of other fairly offensive questions. I played it down. Played it off. But in the state my mind was in. I was offended and disturbed. I have trusted friends who are either openly gay, or have doubtful sexualities. It didn’t use to bother me. But at the time, I began to doubt their worth.
I had decided to keep close those who I already had, but seal off any new acquaintances with shady preferences. I’m no manly man, what a friend called maton. But I wanted my distance from these people.
Today, Tumblr turned Purple. Or violet. What’s the difference? I knew that it was wear purple day, but I didn’t know that Tumblr would be supporting. Anyway. As I said, I’m cool with homosexuality. I was reading the different posts about it and found out what this was all about: Bullies.
SPITE THEM ALL TO HELL.
I grew up different. I was not the sporty, manly type in an exclusive, all-boys school. I wrote while others wrestled. I drew while others raced. I was poor in a very posh setting. I was chubby, and then turned obese due to a medical condition back when I was young. It ruined my skin. The bullies ruined my ego. But they made me strong. It’s just that I didn’t know that yet.
Even now, more than a decade later, their words still affect me. I still feel excluded naturally even without tangible reason. Laughs still go slow-mo in my mind when I think that people might have been laughing at me. I still wear sleeves to cover my arms and tight undershirts to bind my flabs when I can—when the weather allows. I’m still very defensive, attack-dog-style, almost when I let my guard down. Or is it when I leave it up? I’m not so sure which is which anymore. But, on the other hand, these misguided, badly brought up, uneducated misfits have inspired me to do great things, perhaps even more than some of my friends.
With my friends, we accept each others’ weaknesses. Cover for it, in fact. Sometimes, they are who I escape to for that very purpose—to be weak. In times when I need strength, I don’t think what my mom would think. I don’t think how proud this person or that person might be. I think of the evil laughs, the back talks, the envy, the greed, the want the bullies might feel.
I don’t know if that’s good, but it works for me. So, ass holes, thank you. I will conquer the world because of you. I have conquered you, and will annihilate you because of you. Your downfall is actually your own doing.
Anyway. As I was relating the story to my friends, hoping for support, another gay guy, albeit from my circle of friends, blurted out; asking if I was gay. I said no. He followed up with a couple of other fairly offensive questions. I played it down. Played it off. But in the state my mind was in. I was offended and disturbed. I have trusted friends who are either openly gay, or have doubtful sexualities. It didn’t use to bother me. But at the time, I began to doubt their worth.
I had decided to keep close those who I already had, but seal off any new acquaintances with shady preferences. I’m no manly man, what a friend called maton. But I wanted my distance from these people.
Today, Tumblr turned Purple. Or violet. What’s the difference? I knew that it was wear purple day, but I didn’t know that Tumblr would be supporting. Anyway. As I said, I’m cool with homosexuality. I was reading the different posts about it and found out what this was all about: Bullies.
SPITE THEM ALL TO HELL.
I grew up different. I was not the sporty, manly type in an exclusive, all-boys school. I wrote while others wrestled. I drew while others raced. I was poor in a very posh setting. I was chubby, and then turned obese due to a medical condition back when I was young. It ruined my skin. The bullies ruined my ego. But they made me strong. It’s just that I didn’t know that yet.
Even now, more than a decade later, their words still affect me. I still feel excluded naturally even without tangible reason. Laughs still go slow-mo in my mind when I think that people might have been laughing at me. I still wear sleeves to cover my arms and tight undershirts to bind my flabs when I can—when the weather allows. I’m still very defensive, attack-dog-style, almost when I let my guard down. Or is it when I leave it up? I’m not so sure which is which anymore. But, on the other hand, these misguided, badly brought up, uneducated misfits have inspired me to do great things, perhaps even more than some of my friends.
With my friends, we accept each others’ weaknesses. Cover for it, in fact. Sometimes, they are who I escape to for that very purpose—to be weak. In times when I need strength, I don’t think what my mom would think. I don’t think how proud this person or that person might be. I think of the evil laughs, the back talks, the envy, the greed, the want the bullies might feel.
I don’t know if that’s good, but it works for me. So, ass holes, thank you. I will conquer the world because of you. I have conquered you, and will annihilate you because of you. Your downfall is actually your own doing.
Snip Dip Sip Coffee
I remember that there a similar product here in the Philippines recently. I forgot what they were called, but they never really caught on. They were off the market by the time I checked how much they were.
Those were designed to flavor the milk that kids drank. it was a fat straw with flavor beads in them. The milk was sipped up through that straw and it got flavored as it touched the balls. I think there were chocolate and strawberry flavored ones.
Anyway, saw these at Yanko Design
Those were designed to flavor the milk that kids drank. it was a fat straw with flavor beads in them. The milk was sipped up through that straw and it got flavored as it touched the balls. I think there were chocolate and strawberry flavored ones.
Anyway, saw these at Yanko Design
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
Laugh out loud! :P
I'm uploading a video of our final class performance onto facebook and it displays this. I apparently have infinity hours remaining. I can think of a multitude of things to compare this with.
It's longer than any relationship I've ever had.
It's just about as long as this semester is lasting.
It's the amount of reasons I have when I don't wanna do anything.
It's the chances that crushie and I will never meet. :'(
It's how much time I've wasted on facebook/tumblr
..... what else? :P
Monday, October 11, 2010
The recent question about whether I'm Filipino got me to thinking: am I a Filipino?
By blood, why, yes I am. At one point, we quite recently found out, my mom's family had a purely Chinese line. My Father's side is quite strongly Malay-- skin, build, et al.
My father's side is from Laguna-- Nagcarlan, San Pablo, Liliw. My mom's side, I've always thought of as from Bacolod, though my lolo has deep roots in La Union and Ilocos.
As for me-- I grew up the bunso and the kuya of the household. For 5 years or so, I was the youngest on our street; the baby of all. Then my little cousin, Kathleen came. I remember ill feelings then-- hello, dethroning the little prince? But now, we're close as can be.
My upbringing was very strange. We lived with my paternal grand parents. At home, it was totally Tagalog-centric, with very native undertones. Tradition reigned supreme. For a while, I couldn't delineate family and friends and even helpers. Holidays were unbelievable. We'd celebrate days on end because one night was never enough to accommodate all the relations. My grand parents being somewhat respected and my family being one of the first in the village, we had dibbs and special participation during fiestas and Christmas. I was also heavily immersed in religious and social traditions-- hello abay in sagala.
On my mom's side, it was different. It was geographically distant, but they welcomed me as much as I could allow myself to be welcomed. That's where I experienced eating lechon made from pig that we chose and watched bet slaughtered. I heard lots of stories of aswangs, too. At night, in the farm, I experienced living under the light of a Petromax or kerosene lamp-- which, when it ran out also signaled sleeping time. I also experienced walking through fields and dikes, and watching fireflies in the dark.
My "social" life was radically different. It was very westernized. I grew up in an exclusive school that we we could hardly afford. I barely felt like I fit in. But, bygod did I learn a lot. That experience defined how my mind would and could cope with many oppressive situations.
Come to think of it, my life is a crazy mix of polar opposites. Westernized and totally modern. A matriarchal family set up and an all-boys school education. Exclusive school but very maka-masa upbringing. Dude, I'm like a human chopsuey.
It's funny now. I sometimes speak all conyo-ish, but I can translate and understand such deep Filipino words. I can barely get through commuting and going around suburbs, but I can do Balagtasan. I can kill a a pig AND ride a horse. and catch fish. hahaha I can set a formal table but still eat with my hands. I love tuyo, bagoong, and patis (even if I am allergic to them.)
These are all part of me. This is me. I dislike categorizing myself. Or speaking with finality regarding these things. Time flows, things change. So, I may still not know if I really am Filipino, but in all, this is who I am.
By blood, why, yes I am. At one point, we quite recently found out, my mom's family had a purely Chinese line. My Father's side is quite strongly Malay-- skin, build, et al.
My father's side is from Laguna-- Nagcarlan, San Pablo, Liliw. My mom's side, I've always thought of as from Bacolod, though my lolo has deep roots in La Union and Ilocos.
As for me-- I grew up the bunso and the kuya of the household. For 5 years or so, I was the youngest on our street; the baby of all. Then my little cousin, Kathleen came. I remember ill feelings then-- hello, dethroning the little prince? But now, we're close as can be.
My upbringing was very strange. We lived with my paternal grand parents. At home, it was totally Tagalog-centric, with very native undertones. Tradition reigned supreme. For a while, I couldn't delineate family and friends and even helpers. Holidays were unbelievable. We'd celebrate days on end because one night was never enough to accommodate all the relations. My grand parents being somewhat respected and my family being one of the first in the village, we had dibbs and special participation during fiestas and Christmas. I was also heavily immersed in religious and social traditions-- hello abay in sagala.
On my mom's side, it was different. It was geographically distant, but they welcomed me as much as I could allow myself to be welcomed. That's where I experienced eating lechon made from pig that we chose and watched bet slaughtered. I heard lots of stories of aswangs, too. At night, in the farm, I experienced living under the light of a Petromax or kerosene lamp-- which, when it ran out also signaled sleeping time. I also experienced walking through fields and dikes, and watching fireflies in the dark.
My "social" life was radically different. It was very westernized. I grew up in an exclusive school that we we could hardly afford. I barely felt like I fit in. But, bygod did I learn a lot. That experience defined how my mind would and could cope with many oppressive situations.
Come to think of it, my life is a crazy mix of polar opposites. Westernized and totally modern. A matriarchal family set up and an all-boys school education. Exclusive school but very maka-masa upbringing. Dude, I'm like a human chopsuey.
It's funny now. I sometimes speak all conyo-ish, but I can translate and understand such deep Filipino words. I can barely get through commuting and going around suburbs, but I can do Balagtasan. I can kill a a pig AND ride a horse. and catch fish. hahaha I can set a formal table but still eat with my hands. I love tuyo, bagoong, and patis (even if I am allergic to them.)
These are all part of me. This is me. I dislike categorizing myself. Or speaking with finality regarding these things. Time flows, things change. So, I may still not know if I really am Filipino, but in all, this is who I am.
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