Quick Reflections

Note: I wrote this a month before Typhoon Frank devastated Aklan. Weird.

-——-

One of the most awkward, difficult stages in my life was when I was 12 years old. 

Those were the tween years when my boobs, legs and ass grew. Twas when I changed schools and said goodbye to most of my grade school friends. The time of my life when I witnessed the ultimate, sudden death of playing sipa and chase. That I cannot ride my bike anymore, which by the way I won first prize on Marianing Store Raffle 1985. Then there was some beer-smelling asshole knocking on our door with dying daisies on his hand. And all of a sudden I cannot, absolutely can’t, eat four sticks of banana cue while walking down C. Laserna.

Why???

Furious, depressed and confused, I always got out of the house. Walked and walked northbound from our backyard to bank of The Aklan River.

I was always welcomed by the river, the sight was oh so lush and majestic. I witnessed those fresh waters cascading down from the mountains of Libacao and Antique. I closed my eyes and felt the habagat wind gently blowing my hair and kissing my neck.

In the afternoons of low tide, I either waded in those cool waters barefooted or borrowed a bamboo raft to cross the river. But the best part was looking west and watching the sun go down in blazing orange and red light. I was on an unbelievable enchanted spot.

Sometimes I brought my fishing pole along with an unfortunate earthworm. Sometimes I had bag, so after the walk to the river, I can swing by and bring home some wild guavas, raw mangoes or singkamas that was left-over from last harvest. But most of the time I just went empty-handed, sat down under a tree and tried to resurrect my falling self-esteem.

I eventually overcame those troublesome teen-age years. I stood chest up, stuck my butt out and exposed those forbidden legs. I enjoyed high school to the fullest and made wonderful friends. While I cannot play my childhood games anymore, I found more exciting, teen-appropriate past time activities. Ask my friends and everyone remembered that I frequently orchestrated the class-wide, ever popular but banned Spirit of the Glass, with Andres Bonifacio (always, for some odd reason) as the gracious returning ghost.

I cannot wait to go back home and pay tribute to the River Gods. When I needed to be consoled, Aklan River was there, silently giving me strength when I was at my lowest.

“My friends, I’m depressed”. I just got out of Belo Medical Office, face all laser’ed up. I was ugly, burned and broke.

My childhood friends Charlotte (now a publicist) and Rommel (now a wedding coordinator) were alerted and responded like trained 911 paramedics. Both dragged me to Burgoo’s at Glorietta for some sinful cheesecake.

Charlotte, in her signature dramatic flair, snapped at the waitress: ‘A private room, puh-lease. We are going to save the world’

Waitresses hurried up and opened the private room. Food was fast and good.

We left four hours later, along with five sketches of my wedding gown.

***************

What a trip.

I was supposed to be at Wowowee, but I didn’t have the guts to show up given that my face was still swollen from Belo’s treatment.

I even had my speech ready: “Binabati ko ang lahat kong caregiver: Ate Myrna, Kuya Rolly, Ate Susan, Nanay Hermie, Nanay Tess, Rod… uy salamat talaga! Miss Tess, Kuya Jun! Si Joel, Doc. Ay! Si Tony pa. ‘elloooooo! Naandito na ako sa (sign) Wowowee!!!”

I figured I’ll just come back to Pinas. Wait till I lost weight and skin scrubbed white n fine. Special thanks to Charlotte and Rommel (we are fabulous!) and Marlou, asst production manager of Little Big Star and Super Inggo, who gave me the private tour of the ABS-CBN studio.

The Tud’s of Quezon City welcomed me like they have known me for so long, when in fact, I just known them (like, 3 weeks ago) thru a co-worker of mine. Ha Ha! Kapal ko talaga!

Akeanon friends really took the time to welcome me once I arrived Kalibo. Chrency & Berry of Aklan Badminton Association hosted the party. Michelle, Carolina, Lailani & Julius, Ariel, Mabel & hubby, Doc/Gov Jeanette & hubby, Arden, Adora & hubby, and of course, the text-brigadier, Rommel, all joined the lovely alcohol-free night, talking till 3am about… life. Matured na po =)

I have been away for thirteen years. But people showed up just to say hello. Cooked food for me. Even gave gifts (huh? baket me regalo ako?) I felt so special and important.

Thank you, my friends, from the bottom of my heart.

When I was a child, I loved physical games. While yo-yo, sipa, jackstones, Chinese garter and pick-up-sticks were some of the laid-back games, the ones I truly enjoyed were games that involved running, problem-solving, strategizing or competing. Ins! Pitiw! Panagu-an!

Unfortunately, my father had to ban me from playing these games.

When I was about 8, children in the neighborhood gathered for some organized game, called baril-barilan (gunfighting). I was paired with a boy whose head just reached my shoulder.

I had a gun made of guava branches, which I carved one summer ago. I grabbed his shirt, told him to duck under the banana tree. We were in prone position when he said he saw an enemy. I crawled next to him.

I had to be near him so I can see better, ready to aim at a target. There was none, and before I realized he was mocking me, he planted a kiss on my cheek.

I was so mad all hell broke loose.

@^%$#@$&$(*#)$(_)@^&%^!$^%**&$)

I was physically restrained by our playmates. The boy in question was bruised black and blue from my guava stick.

The boy was crawling, covered in mud. When I saw that he was still alive, I jumped on him again, but I was grabbed an adult. A barangay tanod on patrol saw the fight.

The barangay captain then came on board. Adults in the neighborhood came to see what it was all about. Dad came over, too — he asked me what happened.

I was quiet. But my eyes were blazing. My teeth were grinding. My ears were on fire.

The boy was quiet, too, head down.

Well, that was a good decision on his part to shut his mouth. For I will find a way, now or later, to beat the hell out of him. He knew it, for I have never seen his face again.

I always hated it when I am deceived, tricked or taken advantage of. Personal or business.

This memory is too pathetic to even admit: that was my first kiss.

Ha Ha Ha! Ewwwwwww. Kadiri to death. !

Happy Valentines Day to all!

When typhoon Undang stormed Aklan in 1984, it destroyed all homes, fields, and livestock. Life at Bulwang was already tough, but it got worse, people reporting cows and carabaos being stolen from them. 

Full damnation happened when I could not find one of our backyard, organically raised fat chicken that was supposed to be slaughtered for dinner.

There was a witness. My neighbor said she saw the famous theives, the Soriano* brothers (name changed baka buhay pa sila) lurking in our backyard just recently. Grabbing a stick, I walked 1 kilometer (too far for a kid) under the noon heat (kaya pala ang itim-itim ko), went to their house, and asked for them.

I prepared an oratorical con talumpati speech, which I thought will make Ma’am Malilay proud. And I was so ready for a Perry Mason cross-examination.

But when one of the brothers came out to face me, I chickened out, no pun intended. I just feebly mustered ‘Errrr….….’Nong…hakita mo do ang manok? Tag may kyuteks?’

I never solved the case. The X-File. Unsolved Mystery.

I can’t let go. That was my dinner. Ginutom ako.

I think that was also the day I promised myself to never ever give up a fight.

Kaya pala ang tapang-tapang ko, he he he. Nang dahil sa manok.

I tried to post it here on Friendster, but uploading is too hard. Check out my other blog.

http://kyrienne.wordpress.com/2007/11/17/hair-issues/

See you there!

Months ago, I got this combination of clients, all living in one house.

Client #1: diagnosed with traumatic brain injury, secondary to paranoia. She was extremely confused when she moved into the house. “Can I go home? Can I go home? Oh this is home. Can I go home?”. Every five minutes. She was exactly like Dora from Finding Nemo. Then she bolts out into the street, which in this case, I have to chase her down before cops get her (or me).

Client #2: also diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, this time he is blind. Shakes like sh*t when he hears my footsteps. He figured, since he cant see, it was okay to poop and pee in his room. Which of course I have to clean.

Client #3: undifferentiated schizophrenia with dementia. Harmless, but drives me nuts. He walks balk and forth the hallway, day and night. Doesn’t help ease Client #2’s paranoia either.

The list goes on and on. My team successfully found strategies that work, so we are very proud of ourselves serving this population.

Except my Client # 10 is driving me to my last bit of patience that I never knew existed. I should have denied this case from the getgo.

He is diagnosed with manic depressive, impulse explosive disorder and organic personality disorder.

All in one.

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

For all the two-week stay with me and a lot of hit-and-miss programs, I finally developed a behavior plan that works.

De-escalation of problem behaviors. Frustration tolerance program. Redirection. Social skills program. Scripting social exchanges. Token economy reinforcement program.

Then I added a little Carl Rogers’ unconditional positive regard, along with empathy and genuineness. The Good Will Hunting therapy.

Now the problem is, this 6’1”, 250lb former football player and been in jail 3x for petty theft, now TRUSTS me! The arrangement was temporary, as I was pretty sure I signed a contract that clearly stated “14-day Emergency Placement”.

He is supposed to be transferred into Napa State– yes, the locked facility, where Kazinski went? You know, the Unabomber? Now he doesn’t want to go. He wants to stay as a housemate.

So my care home is stuck with him.

Celso is laughing his head off.

I should have been an accountant.

P.S. I still accept resume if anyone is interested in working with me.

With Wayne Fisher, PhD (Former Editor in Chief of the Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis) and Cathleen Piazza, PhD (Current Editor in Chief of the Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis).

Months ago, I got this combination of clients, all living in one house.

Client #1: diagnosed with traumatic brain injury, secondary to paranoia. She was extremely confused when she moved into the house. “Can I go home? Can I go home? Oh this is home. Can I go home?”. Every five minutes. She was exactly like Dora from Finding Nemo. Then she bolts out into the street, which in this case, I have to chase her down before cops get her (or me).

Client #2: also diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, this time he is blind. Shakes like sh*t when he hears my footsteps. He figured, since he cant see, it was okay to poop and pee in his room. Which of course I have to clean.

Client #3: undifferentiated schizophrenia with dementia. Harmless, but drives me nuts. He walks balk and forth the hallway, day and night. Doesn’t help ease Client #2’s paranoia either.

The list goes on and on. My team successfully found strategies that work, so we are very proud of ourselves serving this population.

Except my Client # 10 is driving me to my last bit of patience that I never knew existed. I should have denied this case from the getgo.

He is diagnosed with manic depressive, impulse explosive disorder and organic personality disorder.

All in one.

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

For all the two-week stay with me and a lot of hit-and-miss programs, I finally developed a behavior plan that works.

De-escalation of problem behaviors. Frustration tolerance program. Redirection. Social skills program. Scripting social exchanges. Token economy reinforcement program.

Then I added a little Carl Rogers’ unconditional positive regard, along with empathy and genuineness. The Good Will Hunting therapy.

Now the problem is, this 6’1”, 250lb former football player and been in jail 3x for petty theft, now TRUSTS me! The arrangement was temporary, as I was pretty sure I signed a contract that clearly stated “14-day Emergency Placement”.

He is supposed to be transferred into Napa State– yes, the locked facility, where Kazinski went? You know, the Unabomber? Now he doesn’t want to go. He wants to stay as a housemate.

So my care home is stuck with him.

Celso is laughing his head off.

I should have been an accountant.

P.S. I still accept resume if anyone is interested in working with me.

With Wayne Fisher, PhD (Former Editor in Chief of the Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis) and Cathleen Piazza, PhD (Current Editor in Chief of the Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis).

Out of respect to Khayla’s biological Mom, I have been trying so hard to be gracious and humble about the whole stepmom thing. Well, it seems that the PRESS wants our story, so here goes again…

A marketing & advertising team for Sutter Medical Hospital has "found out" about our MMK* life and decided to feature Khayla on their website.

Medically speaking, last year’s surgery was a tremendous success. Dr George Picetti corrected Khayla’s 160 degree scoliosis. Being a hard-core researcher myself, I saw the importance of sharing medical breakthru’s the general public. So, beam us up, Scotty!

So here goes, click this link … Khayla’s Sutter Feature

And so our life is now public. I really, really need to loose my last 8 lbs. of fat.

* MMK = Maalaala Mo Kaya (Literal translation - Can You Remember) is a popular Filipino TV show where real-life stories, mostly emotional and tear-jearking, are portrayed by award-winning actors. Filipinos use the acronym MMK as an expression when he/she feels like his/her life is so full of drama.

What a wild week! As of today, Thursday afternoon, we got the formal apology from the ABC Network. Check this link: http://abclocal.go.com/wls/story?ection=entertainment&id=5690241 , and we are on E! News Top Story website.

Doesn’t it feel nice when you put about a minute of your time informing your fellow kababayans about something that bothers you, then get some result?

By gooly, I am a Philippine graduate who became a part of the American professional world of Psychologists. I did my hard, tough extra work and endured a year of unpaid internship. But nothing compares to what our fellow Filipino doctors had to go thru: some foreign graduate exam, residency, internship, another exam — that six-part, ano nga yun? Jeez.

Well, I hope this issue will now rest in peace. Even Malu Fernandez moved on.

One thing made me realize though. Gone are the days when we were quiet, docile and passive. We Filipinos do have the literacy and web-power to be heard. We should be proud of ourselves on our own evolution. Parang tayong X-Men. Hahaha.

Once again, thank you for signing the online petition and passing on the message. I will continue to be of investigative public service… whatever that means…. he he he. Cheers!

1983 Philippines : Ninoy assassination & economic depression. 1983 Cheryl: broke.

That year was financially difficult for our family. We moved to a huge but unfinished house with no electricity. With two new siblings (a 2 yr-old Franz and a 1 month old Diana), there were now 4 small mouths to feed. My father had to leave for the States that following year so he can continue to support us.

My piano lessons stopped. Heidi’s ballet class halted. While nobody ever talked to me about the situation, I was smart enough to understand we were in deep sh*t.

As the first born, I needed to step up to the plate. Familia Martinez needed money.

I started selling goodies.

Here’s how it worked: everyday after school, I walked to the public market. I brought a P1.00 pack containing 12 pulborons. Each pulboron was then sold for 10 centavos each. Gross sales was P1.20, therefore, I was making 20 centavos per pack.

My 20-centavo profit can buy 8 pieces of writing paper, which was then sold 2 for 5 centavos. It was my first taste of sweet victory and felt so good not having to burden my parents with my basic school supplies.

So I kept selling: sampaloc, curly tops, monay, cheese curls, stationary.

Everyday of the week. Monday thru Friday. Grade V thru Grade VI.

Thank goodness for 1985. Days of panic-buying across the country stopped and our family finances improved. My Dad started sending money from the States. Plus, he was giving me an additional allowance of $5 month, which was about PhP100.00 at that time.

Yehey, mayaman na ulit kami! For a change, I now can afford to buy my favorite: the Magnolia pinipig crunch. Or go to Snowland, order a special halo-halo (with ube ice cream) and a side order of that soft chiffon cake. What a relief!

It was then I stopped the business. I was going to start high school anyway. Besides, I was having a terrible crush on one Aklan Collegian high school basketball star…forgot his name, dang!.  It was time to grow up at magdalaga. Bagets!

The summer before high school started, I happily trotted to the Balete Rural Bank to close my ‘business’ account. I withdrew the final total: PhP 43.30. Yes, two crisp orange paper bills + 3 big Carabao one peso coins and some change.

Ha! Ha! Ha! I worked for TWO YEARS and made ONE DOLLAR!?

Ay, I shouldn’t laugh. In fact, I should be proud of myself.

At 10 years old, I was already a businesswoman. I gained a steady client base, which in this case, my dear special class Daffodil classmates. I had a system that worked. I gained working knowledge of the wholesale/retail concepts. And yes, I made money, tax free, during the Marcos Regime pa.

Most importantly, I did not make my family’s financial crisis an excuse to feel sorry for myself. I never begged for food or money. I didn’t remember whining about my empty stomach. No complaints about my two-inch pencil (with the other end kinakagat ko para lumitaw ang eraser). I held my head high while selling precious small yellow mamon’s, again, for 10 centavos a piece.

And I still made it 4^th Honors of the 1985 Kalibo Pilot Elementary School graduating class *grin* … La-la-la ….You don’t need analyzing, It is not so-surprising, That you feel very strange at night… La-la-la-la-la

He he he. Funny and sad. Ako na-awa at natuwa — sa sarili ko he he he.

Sharing-sharing lamang po about my humble entrepreneurial beginnings!

Hindi ko sukat akalain na kahit isang kano ay mahilig umusyoso ng aking “blog”.

Nagpatawag ng isang press release ang aming kompanya nuong nakaraang linggo. Isa kasing manunulat, reporter ng isang kilalang business newspaper ng aming lalawigan, ang nagpahiwatig ng kagustuhang malaman ang mga bagong kompanyang pangkalakalan.

Ako namang si lukaret, naghanda talaga, magmula sa pananamit hanggang sa isang nakapangingilabot na speech. Talagang galak na galak ako ng mga oras na iyon.

Nang kami’y nagsimula, nagtanong ang reporter tungkol sa aming plano. Ako nama’y sumagot ng katakot-takot at nakakapanabik na mga vision statements. Dire-diretso talaga ang inglis ko, kasi ikako, kagalang-galang dapat ang aking imahe.

Hindi ko na matandaan kung paano pumasok sa usapan, ngunit bigla na lamang siyang nagpakita ng isang panayam. Agad kong nahalata, puchak, BLOG KO YAN! Yung itong sa Friendster!

Interesado ang reporter. Ang daming tanong tungkol sa aking mahal na asawa bilang isang ulirang ama sa kanyang anak. Isinaad ng reporter na napaganda ang kwento ng aming buhay. Nagpasalamat na lamang ako, at agad kong ibinalik ang usapan tungkol sa negosyo.

Akoy bihirang matulala, ngunit sa pagkakataong iyon, hindi talaga ako nakapagsalita. Agad-agad kong naisip ang mga sumusunod:

1). Tama ba yung englis ko?

2). Nagmura ba ako?, at

3). May naipalabas ba akong karumal-dumal na balita?

Akala ko talaga walang nagbabasa, dahil wala naman akong maraming “comment” dine sa blog. At buong akalain ko na rin na ang mga kaibigan ko dito sa Friendster ang sya lamang ang makakalalam. Hindi pala.

Hay naku, sa katangahan ko talaga.

Mga mahal kong kaibigan, ako’y magsusulat na lamang sa ating pambansang wika hanggat sa maaari. Hihintayin ko na lang na mapawi na sa mundo ang mga amerikanong tsismoso kahit pangsamantala lamang.

Pahabol — Bukas daw ipapalabas ang artikulo * kaba * kaba* kaba * Hay talagang nanginginig na ako sa takot!

Jen tagged me along time ago…

These are the rules…. each player starts with 7 random facts about themselves on their blog. People who are tagged need to blog 7 facts about themselves and post the rules as well. At the end of their blog list 7 people you are tagging. Let them know that they are tagged by leaving them a comment.

So, time for my 7 random facts:

1. I have a tattoo. A single red rose on my back. Who would have thought it was once an ugly scar from a cyst operation.
2. I sleep with my mouth open. Spread-eagled pa. Even in public.
3. I am scared wearing real jewelries. I don’t see the logic of owning Louie Vitton or that Coach. I rarely use perfume. In short, I’m cheap.
4. A corny motto I live by: “Time is gold”. My day is planned by ½ hour.  I follow a calendar. I sync my outlook to my PDA and my husband’s cell-PDA. My household has a daily, weekly and monthly to-do-list. Celso and I know where we want to be 5 years from now. I multi-task. I set my appointments and religiously follow them.
5. I enjoy hearing from friends. I scout for new friends. I value friendship very much. I treasure my autograph book from Grade VI, my diary in high school, and my address book from college. I’ll go crazy if I ran out of people I can randomly talk to.
6. I look forward to my nights sleeping in my husband’s arms, hearing his whispery “I love you’s”, the back of my hand kissed and hugged throughout the night. Aw. But during daytime, when everything turns into a professional, business partnership, Celso drives me nuts. He gets into my skin seriously enough that I have a fresh plot (everyday iba-iba) for a perfect murder by the end of the business day. Ha Ha Ha! But in all honesty, I enjoy being married to my BFF.

And the last one…  Back when, I signed up to join the U.S.military: Psychological Operations. Passed the exams with flying colors. Army recruiters were all over me. I was the coolest chick in Fort Gordon. But when the physical challenge came, they clocked me at 23 minutes, hiningal pa ako. I am supposed to run 5 miles in 18 minutes. Sheesh, forget it— that’s the fastest I can run… because my random fact number

7. I am FLAT FOOTED.

Tagged: Jeunesse, Charlotte, Dondi, Sheera – update your blog!, Rommel – tama na ang tula, Mica – hello? I have been YM’ing you!, Lory

And YOU! Yes YOU whom I take 1 minute of your time. YOU who never leave a comment — you are tagged!

Happy 1 year of writing hahaha! I survived!

And I promote myself — more blog! http://kyrienne.wordpress.com ho! ho! ho!

To all those who gave me a few minutes of their precious time (reading my rants, mostly), thank you.

Take care everyone. Keep in touch.

Happy 1 year of writing hahaha! I survived!

And I promote myself — more blog! http://kyrienne.wordpress.com ho! ho! ho!

To all those who gave me a few minutes of their precious time (reading my rants, mostly), thank you.

Take care everyone. Keep in touch.

I started to notice that I was getting heavy when spring started. Darn, this accounting, payroll, project planning, proposal writing, even blogging, is making me fat. Nobody noticed, so I ignored my flabby tummy.

Next thing I know, I cant fit in my jeans anymore. 10 lbs overweight! Where did that come from? I asked my husband, Am I fat. He said, you looked fine. Okay. Good. Nobody paid attention. People around me didn’t say anything, other than my mom’s usual sarcastic comment "ne, tambok ka eot ing, meko baboy". Agh!

It got worse. Yesterday, scale said 135 lbs. I am now 15 pounds overweight! Aaaaaaaah! Fuming, I marched to my husband and asked him, Am I fat? He still said I was fine.

I was so mad at Celso. I told him I have strong, supporting facts I am 15 pounds heavier, 1 size bigger. WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME I WAS GETTING FAT?????? He glared back at me, told me it’s my problem.

Oh my goodness! This is why I don’t rely on subjective opinions! I was so furious at my husband. He is of zero help. I slept in the other bed while I contemplated on my weight loss program.

Morning came. After dropping Kenneth off to preschool (sigh, he began school a week ago), I went to the park to run. Yup, can’t afford a $50 Gold’s Gym membership. Running for a half-mile, I then came across a community center and heard this music.

Zumba! Come in, first session free, the Latina instructor said. Oh my, she danced so gracefully. So sexy, so sensual, so erotic.

Who-hoo, I wanna be like her. I’ll do what you do, baby!

So I joined the class and shook my butt for one hour. God dang, I never shook my hips that fast, that hard, for that long. My waist, booty and inner thigh hurt like crap. I felt good! I am so coming back to her. Step aerobics is so 1980’s and Yoga is so 1990’s.

Good luck to Zumba-ing me, and hopefully, goodbye 15 pounds!