About heavenliner

a twisted little soul... people see me to be so delicious they sometimes want to eat me...

Unquantifiable Love

Sixty long years ago a proof of an unquantifiable love was perched.  Sixty long years ago my parents, Nengkoy & Joe got married inside a church.

Nengkoy & Joe sixty years ago.  Happy anniversary Nanay & Tatay!

Today, I realized that my big moments, my little talks and even my silly laughs in the past with Nengkoy & Joe were all unquantifiably special.  I terribly miss both of them.  But June 9 this year is more than special.  It is because it is the first year that this gorgeous couple are celebrating their wedding anniversary together in a stunningly beautiful place called Heaven. 

Nengkoy & Joe may no longer be here but knowing that they are finally together gives me peace.  Nengkoy & Joe may no longer be here but they were my proofs that unquantifiable love does exist.  Nengkoy & Joe may no longer be here yet my unquantifiable love for these two beautiful souls will forever persist. 

Sizzling Hot Covid19 Vaccine

My post Covid19 pandemic started yesterday.  When me and my sister (being registered under our local government’s waiting list) were told that an available vaccine is available, we immediately drove up to the designated vaccination site.

Though it is sad to note that majority of my country’s populace still doubts the significance and efficacy of the vaccine, such popular yet imprudent viewpoint became advantageous on my part for getting the vaccine. 

If you’re reading this article and wonder why such meek and lowly event of getting my first jab seem such a big deal on my part, please understand that my poor unregimented country has very limited supply of the vaccine.  It is because my country at this late point in time only depends on the United Nation’s donations as well as the dole-outs sent to us by rich countries because they either have surplus of the vaccines or that their country already achieved the so-called herd immunity.

So how did my first vaccination affair went? Answer: It was hilarious, uneasy and at the same time a little nerve-wracking.  It was nerve-wracking because I hate injections! It was uneasy because the vaccination site was at an open-air public place.  With no air-conditioning and with the scorching humid heat index of 42 degrees Celsius (no thanks to climate change), me and my sister were soaked wet in our very own sweat! 

Good thing there were very few people at the venue, our papers were right away processed.   And after we were injected, the hilarious thing that happened is that both me and my sister were told to stay a little longer because both our blood pressures were shooting up! And when asked if I take medicine for high blood pressure, I answered yes.  When asked what medicine, instead of telling the name of the drug (Losartan), I uttered the name of a popular French bakeshop here in Manila (Lartizan)! LOL!

took a photo of my covid19 vaccine passport while waiting for my boiling blood pressure to ease down! beside it is my sister’s japanese fan.  underneath is a mini-towel to wipe off my super sweat!

With pocket-sized feelings of worry, me and my sister laughed instead after realizing that we were the only two who were asked to stay longer.  My sister even verbalized to the medical team present that who on earth would have a normal blood pressure at such a torrid and scorching temperature?!  After taking our blood pressure three times at an interval of every 15 minutes, both of us were finally released and discharged by the nurses.

I went home nauseous not because of the vaccine but because of the sizzling weather. I too was craving for Lartizan! 

Hold Tight

Some vivid childhood memories that I have with my mom are the situations when she would hold my hand when we cross a street.  My young brain was instinctively programmed by my mom that the starting point of crossing the street is by initially grabbing my then little hand.

Her grip turning firmer to my young little hand is the signal that we would have to commence striding a street no matter how narrow, busy or dangerous the crossing would be.  I consider this simple yet distinct memory as a symbol and representation of my mother’s care, love and attention.  Though the childhood experience of crossing a street with my mom seem too plain and too basic, I also consider her firm grip as a way of conveying that while crossing the street, I would be just fine.

one of the last two photos I took of me and Nengkoy

On the last day of my mom on her deathbed, I was the one who was gripping unto her hand.  It was me whom she was with when she crossed not a busy highway, not a narrow road and not a dangerous street.  And while she crossed over to Joy and Forever, as if to symbolically reciprocate back her care, love and attention, my hand firmly gripped hers.  I then gently whispered and conveyed to her in a reassuring manner that everything and every people she would leave behind will be just fine.  This too would be one of the most vivid memories of my life.

I’m Pretty Sure Nengkoy Is Smiling

It is exactly one month today and the weeks before that was the darkest, saddest and most sorrowful period of my life.  I never imagined that the circumstances of those fretful, flustered and worrisome weeks could be felt and experienced by a human being.  I was helpless, unhappy and perturbed.  Exactly one month today was when my beautiful, charming and loving mother passed away.

This is the reason that I have suspended my posting on this blog.  It is in fact taking me a lot of guts and audacity right now in trying to write and finish this post.  There was even a period in the past weeks that I have decided to end and cease posting writeups on this blog (named after my mom’s endearing nickname, Nengkoy).  But my mother for sure would not want that.

Nengkoy: March 03, 1937 – April 16, 2021

I decided to resume writing because I know I’ve got lots of beautiful stories to tell especially tales and snippets on how lovely and delightful a human being my mother was.  I know that my simple quiet life will never be the same now that my mom is gone.  But I will try my very best to adapt and get by in this new life’s setup.

I know that my mom is watching and got the best view up there in heaven.  And I am pretty sure that she is smiling now that I have resumed my silly writing.

A Masterpiece of a Response

I have seen the Harry & Meghan interview by Oprah.  The two-hour interview was like watching a televised therapy session with a shrink.  I am not British nor American, my country is not even part of the commonwealth, so I’d rather not publish my personal take about that massive interview.

But what fascinated me more was not the protracted and controversial narrative of the couple.  I was more into the reaction published by the Queen about this interview.

read!

It is a short, classy and dignified response.  It is firm yet compassionate.  It is brief yet precise.  It is succinct, refined and appropriate.  It is a masterpiece!

That 61 well-chosen words of a letter simply shuts, knocks and nails the over-the-top 2-hour interview done by Oprah.  The letter though short contain hopes of restitution, reconciliation and redemption.  It was unlike the Oprah interview which failed to discuss these affirmative possibilities.

Thus, after reading the Queen’s reaction, it dawned in me that I actually wasted 2 hours of my life listening and watching the Oprah interview that everybody now is talking about.  And with the Queen who is now 96 years old who still serves mankind and has to deal with this brouhaha by Harry & Meghan and with a husband who is very ill in the hospital, it can be deduced that it is actually not Harry nor Meghan who is depressed and lonely.  I think it’s the brilliant British Queen who is.

Sleeping Under The Stars

A couple of nights ago before going to sleep, I opt to step out of my balcony so as to decide whether to shut my windows close and turn on the AC or leave the balcony door and windows open since its tranquil and nippy.

And while gazing at the night sky I was thrilled to see multiple stars in the heavens.

too sad my camera couldn’t capture it

It dawned in me that it has been more than a year that I haven’t seen those stars hanging from the sky.  It was beautiful.  Seeing stars in the metro sky has been so rare.  It has gone so infrequent that metropolitan folks have started to link seeing night time stars as positive signs from the heavens that their longings will soon be granted.  No thanks to the smog and pollution of the concrete jungle.

I decided not to link seeing stars to the multiple wishes that I have.  I simply smiled and enjoyed the site.  And while stepping inside, I opted to keep the balcony door and windows open.  When I closed my eyes, I realized that sleeping under the stars is a perfect way to end the night.

Something Good

I recently received a wedding invitation from a good friend.  While he proudly tells that I am the first one to have received a copy of the actual invitation, we discussed details of what is to happen and where he and his wife-to-be are in their stage of planning and organizing their big event.  I particularly was engrossed with his answer when I asked him what songs to be played or songs to be sang during his wedding. 

a super cool wedding invite from jb & irene!

It then dawned in me though seem farfetched and unreal circumstance in trying to answer the same question.  What would be the songs to be played in my own wedding if in case?  To be specific, what specific song would be played during the wedding while I walk down the aisle?

My brain seems to have a ready answer to this silly question.  No need for research, no need for review and no need for discussions.  My brain’s ready answer to this is Something Good (the Jonathan Groff version). Listen!

got my would-be simple wedding cake too! mwahaha!

One problem though that I need to resolve.  I need to find the one whom I should get married to! Haha!  And while I await the melodramatic arrival of “the one”, let me continue my doing “something good” on the days and years to come.

Envious of Joanna Lumley

It’s not the monarch neither the Spice Girls.  It’s not Elton John neither J. R. R. Tolkien.  Though I admire the wit of Stephen Hawking and at awe with Margaret Thatcher, it’s not them.  The British human being who I envy the most when it comes to world travel is the effervescent Joanna Lumley.

Joanna thru her series of British TV travel shows feature amazing spots on the planet and showcase interesting cultures around the world!  What is so enviable about this travel diva is that she got to go around and got a bunch of travel-savvy production team who will do the chronicling for her!

 

I was at awe with Joanna’s enchanting Trans-Siberian adventures.  I enjoyed her splendid exploits of the inestimable Japan from north to south.  And how I wish I will be granted with the gift of travel for I was truly envious with her Silk Road adventures!

I have read somewhere that travel envy can happen to anyone.  It is caused by emotional discontent, frustration, feeling left out, the tendency for endless comparison and even social media.  In my case, it would be a mix of all of these combined with being stuck for a year due to this crazy pandemic.

I too read that one way to cope with travel envy is to turn such envy into inspiration, that is by planning the next adventure.  But it looks like planning for an out of the country escapade now seem unrealistic.

I would rather practice gratefulness and reminisce about my past trips.  Good thing I have this blog because reading through some of my travel posts decreases the intensity of my feeling jealous.

this is one spectacular spot joanna lumley has yet to step on! haha! https://neillangit.wordpress.com/2018/02/18/batad-rice-terraces-no-words-to-describe/

And while I was busy basking on these feelings of envy towards the British travel muse, I paused for a while not knowing how to end this invaluable writing.  I turned to my Facebook for a break and this very fitting photo struck me.

Hoping to see the world soon!

My Ash Wednesday 2021 Version

I am a Catholic and last year I had one of the weirdest and rarest observance of Palm Sunday.  The country was already on a strict lockdown due to covid19 and I had to contend myself from hearing the Holy Mass in front of a TV.  And since no one was allowed to go out then, the “palm” that I used was actually an outgrowth of a vine that I plucked from the few pots of plants in my balcony.

attended palm sunday in the comforts of my home as celebrated by the pope last april 2020

palaspas! (that is how we call palm sunday in filipino)

Today is Ash Wednesday.  In the Catholic tradition Ash Wednesday is the beginning of the Lenten period.  It is the season of repentance and reflection.  It is also marked by a Holy Mass in which priests or church leaders will make the sign of the cross out of paste made of ash and sacramental oil on the foreheads of the congregants.  Part of this tradition is that ashes are made from the palm fronds that have been burned from the previous year’s Palm Sunday.

Since I was lucky enough to have kept the fronds (dried leaves and vine) that I used in last year’s Palm Sunday and because I refuse to go to church due to the crazy scary pandemic, I decided to do my own observance of Ash Wednesday.

Part of my creating my own ash for the celebration of this special day is the symbolic burning of my sins.  I decided to write down on a piece of paper my confessions and burn it at the same time with that of my last year’s Palm Sunday fronds. 

With the thought in mind that “for dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return”, instead of placing the formed ash on my forehead, I decided to return the ashes to earth.  I alternatively add the formed ashes into the soil of my plants as a symbol new life with the hopes of a rosy spring for the rest of the year.

glad to have kept that fronds for today’s observance…

I know that my ceremonial version of this day is a total deviation on how a Catholic Ash Wednesday should be observed.  But honestly, while doing what I was doing, I felt free, I felt light and I felt at peace.  And I guess that is what matters on this holy day of Ash Wednesday.