Our sexual organs are the most maligned parts of our body.  Why?  Because they give us pleasure?  Because as women, we birth babies through them?  Because as men, they use them to procreate?  In his website, Avid illustrated Christ dressed up as a bunny for Easter.  Then he asked his audience if what he drew was sacrilegous, one commented (on facebook) that it was not offensive because it didn’t have a penis.  Rifling through images on Regretsy, I also saw an image of the Virgin Mary painted on a clay yoni (vagina).  If truly God had created man in his image, then he probably had a penis or vagina (depends on what you believe) too.

The lingam and yoni are sacred aspects of the Hindu, representing the inseparatibility of the male and female, as one and whole.  Pagan religions celebrate fertility rituals, and uphold the sanctity of sex.  Most if not all people have a need to have sex either for pleasure or procreation.  Then why is it still seen as something dirty or shameful in this era of sexual liberation, and free thinking?

I do know some of the  more scholarly answers, but I still cannot help but wonder why, in this day and age that such negative connotations about sexuality still abound.  Traditions and beliefs bound by religion serve their own purposes, but as times change so do our needs and belief systems.  I personally believe that our negative perception about sex and sexuality, and how we view our sex organs should change.  They are part and parcel of our anatomy, of our evolution, and ourselves.

First of all, I spent the entire day in my pajamas. I didn’t wash my face, nor brushed my teeth. Yeah it’s gross but it’s only every Sunday when I can afford to be like this! We also had some company over, a sweet little gentleman of a canine, Richard (his Japanese name was Fugu). He was adopted by Shaney when he was abandoned by his previous owners. He was left tied for three days before they released him into the streets. Poor dog! The family that left him had moved into a new apartment that didn’t allow pets, they reasoned. Why would they even consider moving into an apartment that doesn’t allow pets in the first place, knowing that they have a dog? A dog that had been with them for close to twelve years! I think that it’s plain and simple cruelty. I’ve never had a pet during all my time here in Japan (my roommate had a pet turtle that stank before, haha!), because I know that as much as I want one, I wouldn’t be able to take care of it. Sometimes, I feel shamed to be human.

On another note, I’m extremely addicted to the new HBO series, Game of Thrones. I’m looking forward to the season finale! Samir is excited as well, and we’re both avid fans of the series. It’s great to look forward to something!

Most of our friends here in Tsukuba have gone back to their countries.  We have graduated from university and are surviving the triple disaster in the Tohoku region.  Most of the time, I feel like there’s just the two of us here now.  Times are tough but we’re trying to stay happy and healthy.

Happy three years to us.

In an interview with parents, the father of the child related that dancing is something his child loves. I personally think that it’s wonderful that the boy is a talented dancer, but why does he have to teach his child to dance a number that is generally perceived as an adult performance? Why does the mother have to defend the child’s performance as “the child’s way to help his family?” I really guess that this episode of WW was the Filipino sense of morality placed under a microscope. There are so many things that went wrong with this issue, and poverty is not the only thing to blame. After all, the money that JanJan brought home went to the purchase of a video game console and a bicycle. These items are in fact, not necessities but wants. Selling one’s dignity and innocence for toys that will someday break and get old are not substitutes to the humiliation of the child, and the parents’ greed to make money out of their offspring.

I really wonder what happened to the concept that “an education is the best inheritance parents can give to their children.” With all the media hype on easy money in exchange for a short performance (lewd or not), sexy gyrating girls that earn a lot of money, and vacuous celebrities with twisted morals earning loads of cash, it seems natural that many people would want to be “discovered” and get rich quick. I’m incredibly sad that working hard for an education to perpetually uplift one’s family from poverty has become second to getting a career in showbiz. I’ve never really watched Willie and his show, because I find him and his show crass and disturbing. I still have memories of the Ultra stampede and the half-assed apologies that came after that. i have seen clips of some really talented performers on his show while abroad, and I never raised any concern until this clip of JanJan showed up. I never thought that Willie Revillame, Philippine media, as well as some Filipino people can sink so unimaginably low.

I am not a moralist, nor am I religious but I know when something is wrong or right. It the responsibility of adults to steer their children into the right direction in life. It is the social responsibility of the media to prevent cultural dehumanization. Poverty is not always the reason as well as being part of the “masa.” This is a time for us to reflect on where our morals lie, and what ideals we should pass on to the next generation.

Our families have been keeping in contact. Samir’s dad is in a panic, and is incessantly keeping tabs on his boys. Even my family who hardly ever calls me (their call last night was the second call I ever received from them since I came to Japan in 2006), took time to call. They were really worried. They’ve been bugging us to go to the Philippines. well, it’s not that easy, I tell them. For one thing, Samir and I need to change our visa status from “college student” to whatever. I’ve already sent in my papers, but Samir hasn’t yet, since he needs to submit paperwork from his new job. That takes about a month to process… after which we can get re-entry permits and work permits.

If we leave Japan, it will take a boatload of paperwork and complications to go back again. I’m already heartbroken at not being able to go back to Tsukuba for my students’ graduation.  We’ve worked so hard,  but no one can foresee such disasters.  I’m constantly worried about our home, our friends, our city. Our work is here, our homes are here, our friends are still here. Our lives are here.

All we can do is pray for the quick recovery of Japan. I’m sure everybody’s doing their work as well as they can. All our lives depend on it.

The first one was the Luzon earthquake of 1990, and now it’s Japan.

March 11, Friday, not a cloud in the sky. After practicing some songs with my Kindergarten class, I collected some pieces of paper to cut out into letters for the school’s presentation the next day. I was also watching over two three-year old kids who were waiting to be picked up by their moms. They were happily eating their snacks, when one of the moms came in with her son. I kept on glancing at the clock because I was supposed to meet someone at three. Then it started.

I didn’t even bother to look up from my work. After all, earthquakes are pretty normal in Japan and spring time is earthquake season. So i continued to cut up paper, but after 30 seconds the earthquake continued. I looked at Mrs. Hoshi who was clutching her son. “I think we should tell the kids to get under the tables,” she said. I instructed Yuki and Momo to crawl under the tables, pushed them unwillingly as they looked at me with startled eyes. The room started shaking. Really shaking! The shelves fell down, books scattered across the floor. Things began crashing on the floor and I for the first time since I arrived in Japan, I got scared because of an earthquake.

When the earthquake stopped for a moment, Mari, my co-teacher burst into the door and announced “Let’s go down!” I grabbed Momo, and Mrs. Hoshi grabbed her son, Yuma and Yuki into her arms. When we got into the hall, some of the kids were already crying with fright. “Forget the shoes!” yelled Mari. I grabbed Nana in my other arm and ran down the building. We stopped at the fence enclosing the nearby Azuma middle school. The school personnel offered for us to enter the school, but we initially refused since we thought that the earthquake had stopped.

But it didn’t. We started to carry the kids over the fences. Some of them were barefoot, without their jackets on, crying for their moms. Most looked on with startled expressions on their faces. Then we hoisted ourselves over the fences to guide the kids into the middle of the field, where the middle schoolers were already huddled. I joked to the kids that they were so smart, they were skipping elementary school and going to middle school. The kids and teachers laughed.

We stayed in the school for almost three hours, and aftershocks occurred the entire time. Some of the moms who came to pick up their kids had tears in their eyes. Stoplights had stopped in some areas, and I had left my celphone in the classroom as well as my jacket. I was freezing cold. Good thing, Mari had instructed one of the moms to give me my jacket and bag. She literally saved my ass from freezing.  No signal on my phone.  Couldn’t contact Samir and Augusto.

When I got home, Samir proudly showed me his stash of mineral water and bento.  ”We cam prepared!” he beamed.  There was no water, electricity, and our phones weren’t receiving signals.  We went to the nearby LAWSON convenience store where a crowd had gathered, listening to the radio.  We walked around the area, all stores were closed.  We went back home and ate our bentos.  Then we all piled into the bed and tried to sleep.

We decided to get up and check out Milli’s apartment in the Kasuga area, since we’ve heard that it may have power running in the area. Indeed there was! We called our families, and I updated my facebook.  At least we’re safe.  This morning, we started hoarding food and water, people were lined up where there was food to be sold.  I’ve never seen anything like this before in Japan.  People were milling about in the streets, looking about nervously.

I’m tired.  We’re all tired.  The earthquakes haven’t stopped, and we’re still waiting for water and electricity in our area.

I remember the first time I went to Kindergarten.  My uncle took me, led me by the hand and introduced me to the teacher, a frail-looking, grey-haired old lady.  The kindergarten was a front yard converted into a classroom.  Each child had his/own desk that had a rack on the bottom where you can put your bag or lunch, a little cubby with our names on it for other stuff like art materials.  The room was very poor-looking, paint was chipping off the desks, the posters covered with cheap plastic, we didn’t even have a toilet. We had to use the toilet that belonged to the teacher’s house, populated by her ever-present family.  I bet the tuition was dirt-cheap but I don’t think my elders care much about pre-school education anyway.

The best thing about it was that the teacher, Mrs. Rocco allowed me to draw on the chalkboard before classes.  I remember wanting to go early every day so that I could draw on those massive chalkboards with all the chalk I needed.  I had one friend, Jackie.  We fought all the time, and I always got angry with her because she wouldn’t share her snacks with me.  I always brought peanut butter sandwiches to school.  Every day.  I didn’t like boys, and I always fought with them.  I didn’t like my classmates because they couldn’t read.  Everyone read too slowly.  I had finished reading all my textbooks before school started (a habit I developed until I finished high school).  I was pretty much a horrible kid who threw tantrums all the time, and seemed disinterested in school.  Mrs. Rocco must have thought that I was incorrigible.

Maybe it’s my karma that I ended up teaching Kindergarten.  But unlike the third-world, 80s condition of my Kindergarten, the school where I teach has Internet where the kids can watch educational and fun kid stuff on Youtube, lots of toys that the kids can put together and break, meals pre-ordered and served by the teachers, plenty of books to browse and practice reading on.  There are three teachers (including myself) who are always planning on what to do with the kids such as learning about ancient Egypt and mummies, how vampires turn into bats at night and suck blood, that the colors of most pasta dishes and pizza coincide with the Italian flag.  We cook food with them from different countries every month such as couscous from the African continent, naan and curry from India, pasta and spaghetti from Italy.  We answer their questions with as much truth as we can, even though they may not understand.  We celebrate little festivals such as the Star Festival with balloon fishing and beetle races.  I really think that the kids are having a great time.  Or so we hope.

This is why I got really upset when some of the kids we teach started saying that the little school where I teach sucks, and that he wants to go to a new school.  Or when my other student gets so stressed by her mother’s prodding to transfer to a new school that she cries all the time.  I find that, the kids tire me out, but their parents stress me out.  There is so much hypocrisy with some parents that some of it leak towards their children, affecting their behavior, making it difficult for them to learn and appreciate what they have.  Children at such a young age generally reflect their parents’ teachings and behavior, as they have no real set of peers yet and their worlds revolve around their families.  I am really proud of my the kids I teach, but sadly, some of their parents disappoint me.

I did not set out to teach English nor Kindergarten here in Japan, but these experiences are teaching me a lot more about the country and its people.  If these are to be the future of Japan, then I wish their parents would get their acts together, become more decisive, to teach their kids to be polite and respectful, learn self-control, yet still exhibit independence and individuality, and more importantly, to learn to be thankful for what they have.

Sometimes, I look at my facebook page and wonder if I should purge my friends list. I know that of course, these are people, they are not old books or vinyls, toys, or games that I can easily get rid of. After all, they have touched my life, for better or worse, and perhaps I may want to keep in touch with them. Or not.

I have only lived for thirty years on the planet, and don’t think that I have amassed as many friends and colleagues as my aunties, or my grandmother (who sends birthday and christmas cards to all her amigos every month), but sometimes the more I look into my 615 (and growing) friends list, the more I want to delete people from it. The more I don’t want to care about certain people from a certain point of my life, those whom I never really positively interacted with, those with whom I’ve never been interested in knowing. Many I have lost touch with, and some I tried to interact with but have never reciprocated. What is the point in keeping in touch with them at all?

At the same time… there’s a twinge of guilt from deleting a person from a friends list, perhaps because of nostalgia, or just because I’m not brave enough to do so. But I think I’ll give it time and think about it more. After all, they were present at one time in my life.

an around the world search for self book

My good friend Majo recommended the book; “Eat, Pray, Love” to me about a year ago.  She had read the book upon the insistence of another friend and she was raving about it.  ”It’s such a good book!” she said.  I asked what it was all about and she briefly described it as a memoir of a woman who wanted to “soul search” after troubling times.  It sounded like a self-help book to me so I didn’t exactly get on amazon.com to buy it.  Instead, I waited for months until feeling bored, I purchased it.  And I read it.  It was beautiful, witty, and intelligent.  I can’t say I didn’t like because I did (and apparently so did the rest of the literate world, as it was a NY Times bestseller for 155 weeks), but it also made me feel a little depressed in the end.

It’s such a rich, white woman’s book.

I was just thinking how easy it is for rich, white people to escape and go off on adventures for a YEAR (or even more) because they’re having difficult times.  How nice it is to leave everything and indulge in travel, live with monks, or experience exotic things without looking back and worrying about the bills.  The book to me, was like reading Harry Potter, or Cinderella (because she eventually found a new lover) or something which can be categorized under “fantasy and fiction.”

The book made me acutely aware of how vast the differences are between economic standing, social hiearchy, and nationality. Seriously, how many do we know can afford such a luxurious “soul searching” experience?  It makes me think that “soul searching” or of “finding oneself” is simply the domain of those who can AFFORD it.  ”Eat, Pray, Love” also reminded me of the movie; “Under the Tuscan Sun,” of a woman who just upped and left for Tuscany and bought and built a house.  Why?  Well… because she can afford it, and because she can.

I wonder if and ever, I do feel the need to “discover myself,” will I be able to afford it?  Just thinking about the Visa process to travel is already making my head swim, as I am of a nationality that is not exactly welcome in most territories.  Will the washerwoman be able to soul search?  Can the factory worker also “find himself?”  Moreover, why is it that mostly rich people need to do these things? Hrmmm… goes to say that money isn’t everything, or that money can buy you a “soul” or “self.”

Will I watch the movie?  Perhaps.  After all, I do like fantasy films.

Fast forward into the future, and I’m now living in a foreign country, eking out a living, and is perfectly happy with my sweet Bear who prepares me breakfasts.  What I’ve realized was that over the years, I’ve never really feared going on to thirty.  I remember that being thirty during my parents’ time seemed like having a time bomb tick-tocking in your chest.  You either marry and reproduce, or simply explode.  It seemed like there was no other way.  However, women these days are much more relaxed in their concept of relationships, careers, and marriage.  It may not seem obvious but I actually credit Sex and the City for my fearlessness of the future.

I’ve watched the series and is a big fan since it started airing during my college years.  I may not dress like any of the girls, nor have been the serial dater but watching those gorgeous women, proud of being thirty-something; accomplished, beautiful, and forward-looking really made an impression on me.  It dawned upon me that I can do great things at any age, and it’s never late to start being fashionable, nor is it shameful to voice out your feelings, and that relationships need to be worked on all the time, and yes, it’s okay to want to have time for yourself or with your girl friends because we need it.  The series emphasized the need of SELF.  Despite certain responsibilities, it’s alright to reserve time for oneself, and that it’s not a horrible, monstrous thing to do especially if you’re in a relationship or even if you have kids.  I think that everyone needs time for oneself, to redeem time to think, evaluate, and re-energize.

I just came back home from the cinema with some of best girl friends (we watched SATC 2), and I know that as much as I love spending time with Bear, and despite being busy with tons of work nowadays, it’s really great fun to spend time with them.  We often get lost in the shuffle of life, but we should always take time to to just be ourselves. Because SELF is something that we all have but may lose if we’re not careful with the daily grind.