Birthday

My birthday went off without a blast. My more recent birthdays are not really a huge one-day explosive celebration but rather a long, slow period of acknowledgement. It's hard getting everyone together, and I really don't want to get everyone together. So I celebrate slowly throughout the month of September when I get together with people and they treat me out for dinner or something. Today we went out with FC, who now looks like she's stuffed a watermelon under her shirt.

So far, I didn't really get anything for my birthday. And I really don't mind this time. I guess I'm getting old. Actually, my dad gave me a big bag of cookies and candy and a battery operated toothbrush. He must have missed my 12th birthday and now he's just making up for it. Haha, but I don't really mind. I like the toothbrush.

I haven't blogged in the past few days because there was something wrong with my blog template. I was thinking about scrapping the whole thing and making a new one. And then I thought I would go on to one of those blog template sites. But I really don't care too much about how the blog looks. So, I just ran through the HTML and looked for errors and alas, here it is, same as always.

Reminders

"So what are you doing Wednesday?" everyone asks me lately.

"Why? What's going on Wednesday?" I'd find it odd that they would pick a specific day of the week to plan something, instead of just any old day. And it's strange that everyone keeps picking the same day.

I'd just get a blank stare. Then I'd realize that I'm supposed to be a year older tomorrow.

9/3/2002 12:51:23 AM

Eager Listening Ears

Ironically, my Ilocano listening skills instead of my Tagalog skills have improved greatly this summer. I think my lessons in Tagalog have helped improve my Ilocano now. Maybe it just taught me how to listen. Now, everytime I hear Ilocano I listen and suck it all in - gossip, directions to a party, small bickering between my parents. My parents stare at me when I just watch them, listening, expecting me to take sides jokingly.

"Oh, I'm just listening to how much Ilocano I can understand now. I'm not really paying attention," I say. They'd give me an odd stare. I'm actually quite proud of whatever little comprehension I have in Ilocano.

I was speaking with a friend who also has Ilocano parents and I remarked at how interesting it is that our parents know three languages. It's two more than I know. She agreed.

"Yeah," Xab added, "three languages and two of them are useless."

"Why do you think they're useless?" my friend asks innocently. Xab was stuck right there. Was it just because only Filipinos spoke it? That the Philippines didn't matter? English, French and Spanish the languages of the DVDs is all that mattered?

But I saved him. "Not everything revolves around America." If it does, it shouldn't.

But I'm starting to question the use of Ilocano. I realized that if I ever fully comprehend it I will only be listening to gossip, directions to a party and small bickering between my parents (I turn off my ears when it becomes a full blown argument.) But I think I will hear more than that. There's such a disconnection between the older generation and the younger generation in my family. I think it's really because of language. My grandmothers don't speak to my cousins as much as they do to me. They only speak to me because I'm the only one that's willing to sit down at the table and listen them talk to me in a foreign language.

But that just makes me wonder. What then when the older generation is gone? Will those languages become totally useless to me as Xab says. But I guess it's the here and now that should matter.

Right now, I'm reading Eye of the Fish by Luis H. Francia. I recommend it to all Filipino Americans. I suck through whatever Filipiniana literature I can find. I'm starting to run out. But I've learned a lot of things. A lot of things that piss me off. I can't find anyone to listen to what I learned. My brother talks a lot of crap about his literal birth country so I try to help him understand philippine history. But he doesn't listen. As a victim of the media, he's been molded into a hardcore, trashtalking, die-hard American patriot. I think I'm starting to get him to realize though. Slowly and unsurely.

I try talking to Xab but he doesn't seem to care. He talks as if everything that happened in the Philippines is just and deserved or that it can't be helped. I don't care if he doesn't stand up for his birth country but he just doesn't stand up for anything really.

I try some of my Filipina friends but them seem either uninterested or intimidated or just too busy.

Out of nowhere I talked to my future roommate and give her a really short run down on Spanish and American colonialism and complain about Japayukis and racial self-hating Filipino Americans. She's amazed at everything I tell her. Hopefully I speak the truth since I'm pretty sure I haven't learned a lot. She leaves saying: "I have questions to ask about Filipino history. I know a lot less than I should." I admire that. She isn't even Filipino but she's willing to listen and learn.

Midnight Ramblings, or Oh, the Humidity!

I can't sleep. The heat dies down between about four and ten. At eleven, everything just starts heating up. The humidity just came out of nowhere and it doesn't seem to be leaving. The nights are nice though. Warm and clear, not great for sleeping, but it's nice. That's why I can't sleep. Sleep is an odd thing for me. Sometimes I sleep just because I wasted today and I want to see tomorrow, or I just want tomorrow to come for some reason or another. When that's not happening, I'm dreading tomorrow so I can't sleep. Either way, I just can't sleep. Why can't I ever be content? I envy people with good consciences or no consciences at all. Well, no I don't. But I wish I just could fall asleep easily. There really is no use staying up and fretting. Actually my best ideas come at two in the morning.

Xab can't sleep either. Probably the humidity or the anxiety of going back to school. I'm pretty sure it's just the former. I'm having a conversation with him on the ill effects of colonialism on the philippines. I think it's too late for these types of conversation but is there ever a better time?

Under the Blogger Wave

"Oh jeez," Xab stammers over the phone. "Such and such has a blog now, too!"

"It makes me glad that my blog is eight months old. I don't feel like a trendy." But I guess I am.

What really makes me feel proud though is my hit record. It's practically pathetic. I probably have two or three frequent readers but I think they just come by once a week. I don't have a lot of returning hits. Most people stumble here accidently and leave disgusted by the plain green background that I haven't changed in... I don't know how long ago.

It makes me feel special. Eight months a considerable long amount of time compared to a lot of blogs that just spring into life and then die as fast as it was born. And the fact that I can keep on writing without a large readership or even a readership at all. I know I'm honest. I can write and not care if anyone reads. I think that's something to be proud of. Whether or not all I write about is pure crap, it's still something to be proud of. I don't care what people think.

I also think it's partial proof that people visit blogs for high-graphic, web-designs instead of content. Why only partial? My life may be boring. But I really don't think so.