Natural Insemination

 

I'm reading Mieko Kawakami's Breast and Eggs. I also recently read a short story collection by Jeffery Eugenides, one of which, Baster, was a story of an empowered woman keen on getting pregnant through artificial insemination and raising a child on her own. Set in Tokyo and New York, respectively, these stories revolved around this common theme. 

Naturally, I end up using it as an ingridient for the questions I formulate for the lessons. 

With Japan's looming birthrate crisis, is artifical insemination a good idea? 

A student answers, "Yes, having a child, but without a husband. That's a good idea." 

I felt that we laughed genuinely. 

Premium Fakes

 

Northern winds whispering, push your pen (fake Parker ones fresh off the supply chain ships of China.) Having used the real ones, this almost feels just as premium. 

ごちそうさまです

 Thank you, D. 

Lines we live for

Morning 

I was the first to wake up. You're all lazy.
V., 5 years old

Lunch

Mom: Kuya, do you want to have a pet? 

Kuya: I want to have a dog. 

Dad: Like a German Shepherd? You can run with it. 

V.: I want a cheetah. 

 

V. at 5.

I overheard V., five years old, telling D. with an apparent certainty, with full conviction, "Mom, all responsible adults need coffee." 

For D. everyday, gladly. 

Father's Day

Here's to my Father, leading from the frontlines. Araw-araw, lalo ngayong pandemya, ipinapakita niya sa amin kung ano ang ibig sabihin ng pagpapauna sa kapakanan ng iyong kapwa.

Francesco

Francesco, only lived in his mother's womb for 5 months, grew to be a fire tree that now reaches the roof of our house. The morning sun shines on it brilliantly. In the afternoon, the hot summer air accompanies those thin branches and tiny leaves to a dance. 

Smaller and Smaller Stories

 

You're 38 now, Jairus. Belated Happy Birthday. And we've whined, bragged and sometimes genuinely wrote about what's been happening to us for almost 25 years. There should be enough to recur on. How stubbornly should we be to endure? I have a suspicion, or perhaps a good clue that would help me figure out what we're really feeling at this point.

I am tired. Specifically, of myself.  

 

What's going on?

Fuck's going on. That's what. 

About a year after the lockdowns, 10,002 got infected with COVID-19 today. The President says he wants to cry in front of all of us but he has no more tears to shed. 切腹 is an honorable option. 

https://www.rappler.com/nation/cop-kills-man-calamba-laguna-march-28-2021

https://www.rappler.com/newsbreak/iq/names-activists-killed-by-duterte-government-bloody-sunday-march-7-2021

https://www.philstar.com/headlines/2021/03/29/2087796/three-weeks-after-bloody-calabarzon-raids-labor-leader-shot-dead-laguna?utm_medium=notifications&utm_source=vuukle&fbclid=IwAR3bMkPy9WoJjHRHeVlErEubJDNJYJrwpbaXN8izCmmmsjVFrz_wuyXHT38

https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2021/mar/28/fear-turns-to-fury-in-myanmar-as-children-shot-by-military

Ahead

5:44 pace, 57:19 10k
5:27 pace, 27:19 5k
102.3km this February

I'm not getting any younger, much slower than other recreational runners, but I'm hitting much better numbers than I did the past few years. 

Was it the engineered-for-fast Zoom shoes, my consciousness of VO2 Max, my excitement with having a Forerunner strapped on my wrist? Was the Garmin Coach Plan effective? Was it the cycling cross-training? Was it the time of the day, early morning runs when northern winds are the coldest that made the runs easier? One way or another, I literally found a more re-invigorated stride. 

For a while, it felt that I'm ahead of whatever it is I'm running away from. 

But most of all, I ran with her. She's always ahead of me. 

Immortalized by The Quiet Ones

The Quiet Ones
Glen Diaz

We've been immortalized, and it was done with a deserved dignity. This is the novel that a wannabe-writer-turned-call-center-worker (retired) such as yours truly, have been dreaming of putting into paper. This one hits the spot. Pushes the right buttons. Hits the nail right on the head. It has authentic insider information, fully-developed characters (I feel like I've met them), verified industry know-how, like that whiff of truth in juicy gossip still sluicing in our mouths after all these years, the aura of office pantries, oppressive elevators, cold buildings and tired streets. It portrayed the lifestyle that the call center culture has espoused. The language was both precise and elegant, deconstructive and post-colonial. Perhaps I'm not sure about that post-colonial or deconstructive, (your graduate school units in Philosophy won't do much for KPIs). The novel is layered with a discussion of our country's fragile democracy, the context of the BPO industry in Philippine history and culture, how souls are corrupted by this grinding globalization. And this novel sure is right about its call center lingo. Uncompromising, that sometimes it's a pain to read, because we've lived through some of those horrible moments. We remember some horrible people. But mostly, it's a profound joy. How can one not feel flattered (even quietly) when you read about yourself?