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Status: Tonsilitis… Waaaah!
Music: I’m Just a Kid - Simple Plan

WHO’S TO BLAME?
This happened more than a year ago, you can see the original post here. I was with my then 2-year old nephew in my mum’s room when I accidentally broke the lamp on the side table. Of course, the only witness was my dear nephew. So I decided to talk to him.

Yoshke: When they ask you who broke that, you say MIMI (name of his cat). Understand?
Nephew: *nod*
Yoshke: Yaya (the maid) forgot to close the door so Mimi entered, sat on the side table, and broke the lamp. Understand?
Nephew: *nod*
Yoshke: Who entered the room?
Nephew: Mimi!
Yoshke: Who sat on the side table?
Nephew: Mimi!
Yoshke: Who broke the lamp?
Nephew: Tito (Uncle)!
Yoshke: Who broke the lamp?
Nephew: Tito!
Yoshke: Mimi!
Nephew: Tito!

The poor kid did not have any chocolate for the rest of the day. Nyahahaha. Child abuse, anyone?

# # #

HE WAS RIGHT, ANYWAY
Last night, when I came home, I forgot to close the gate. My nephew, now 3, was playing on the porch.

Nephew: Tito! Close the gate! What if my ball went over there and I would fetch it. I might get hit by a car.
Yoshke: So don’t go out!
Nephew: But I’m a kid. I don’t know what I do.

Yeah, right. I shut the gate.

# # #

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

Most of the time, my nephew and I get along really well. And the times when there are chocolate bars in the fridge are not one of them. We always end up fighting about who gets what. And it’s agreed upon that Snickers bars are mine like it has always been. So a couple of months ago, when my nephew was throwing tantrums, I was pissed that he wanted my Snickers. I mean, whaaat? Those were mine.

But being a kid, of course, he could get away with it. And I was the one scolded for acting like a kid. But I’m sure you get me. Those bars were mine! Mine! Mine!

So when my nephew was climbing up the stairs to his room, displaying the bars of Snickers, mocking me (I was lying in the couch), I prayed, “Oh God, please, do anything so I could have those Snickers. ANYTHING.”

Seconds later, my nephew lost his balance and came crashing down the stairs. I was appalled and befuddled. The blood all over the floor made it hard for me to move (coz I’m extremely afraid of blood). My brother hurriedly approached my nephew and drove to the hospital.

I didn’t go with them to the hospital. When the maid asked me what happened, I couldn’t utter a word. I was feeling incredibly guilty. Besides, I really couldn’t talk because my mouth was full. Of Snickers bars. The bloody kid left them on the floor.

Picture courtesy of newciv.org

Status: Horneee
Music: Overload - Sugababes

I just received this anecdote from a friend, who had read this somewhere. And it made me realise how fun Tagalog really is as a language.

I was in the elevator with an American. We were going down to the ground floor, but before reaching it, we stopped at the 4th floor. It opened to a Filipino.

She asked me, “Bababa ba?”

I replied, “Bababa.”

In she went. Upon closing of the door, the American asked curiously, “I’m sorry. Did you guys just have a conversation?“

A’right. To all my non-Filipino readers, I’m gonna explain this to you. “Bababa” is the tagalog word for “going down.” And to change any noun, pronoun, verb, adverb, or adjective to a question, all you have to do is add “ba.” Of course, a question mark and the proper intonation go with it.

She: “Bababa ba?” (Going down?)
Me: “Bababa.” (Going down.)

There. Though they might have sounded like they were trying to mimic goats/sheep, they actually had a conversation. Hehehe. Ahlove’t.  (more…)

Status: Anxious
Music: Big Girls Don’t Cry - Fergie

On domestic news, my mum is being annoyingly hardheaded these days. For months now, she’s been complaining about the lumps on her breasts but never really mustered enough courage to see a doctor and once and for all know what it was until last week. Because there seemed to be no reputable hospital or competent physician to take care of her here in Lemery (as far as my mum is concerned), and on my cousin’s advice, she travelled to Lipa City for a series of tests.

A week later, she learned what it really was. But until now, she wouldn’t tell us the findings. And I’ve been sick worried trying to figure out if it’s cyst, tumor, or cancer. She won’t let us know. What’s with the suspense? All she said was that she would face it herself — alone. And that’s she was encouraged to undergo a surgery. But my mum refuse to let the doctors operate on her. Insists she’s not ready and will not be anytime soon.

Damn it. They say ignorance is bliss. But this is something I need to know. I already lost a parent to cancer and I won’t give up the other one to the same killer. Not again.

Status: Exhausted
Music: Breakdown - Mariah Carey (Ate Mimi) feat Bone Thugs

Today is my first niece’s first birthday, and right now they are having a huge party at our place. My niece’s name is Mika Natalia, daughter of my brother. Like my first nephew Yoshke (yes, after myself — sort of), it was me who gave my niece that name but it was a little modified. It should’ve been Mischa Natalya (Russian) but because my sister-in-law didn’t like Mischa, she changed it to Mika — thus, Mika Natalia. Almost parallel to what happened with Yoshke (my nephew, not me). I was asked by my sister to come up with a good name and I offered her Asher Yoshke (Jewish). But my brother in law didn’t like Asher so he changed it to Asheq — ergo, Asheq Yoshke. Gawd, I hate my in-laws. Hahaha. But I’m not gonna talk about that any longer.

It was my first day of my review classes in Ateneo de Manila University last Saturday. I entered the classroom wanting to become a diplomat. When I left that room, the feeling was different. I just don’t want it, I NEED IT. I need to be a diplomat and I will be.

It was really fun. I liked the feeling of waking up early worried about being late. And just like an ordinary / regular first day of school, I was happy making new friends, learning new stuff, and being able to express myself. Not to mention our ambassador-speakers were very cool. Pretty ancient (I mean, old) but still very cool. Lov’em. I learned enormous amount of information and knowledge from them. They were opinionated (and yes, very politically inclined) yet I could sense how much they really love this country and value the Constitution.

I was a little disappointed, though. I didn’t know that we would be divided into two sections. I think putting us all together in the same room would be much more enjoyable. More classmates, more friends, more fun. There were also more female reviewees. You could just imagine how that made me feel. I felt sooo sad. Haha, just kidding. It really did not matter. There were no cute hommes, anyway (oh yes, that’s another disappointment, hehe).

As usual, I was very timid on the first day so I wouldn’t approach anyone. I just sat there, listened, and took down notes. But after a while, I couldn’t keep it; I just had to release the perky me so I approached my seat mate Helen, very pretty, a UP grad as well, and also very timid, and we started to get along.

Although from the very start, I’ve been aware that there’s not much money in the field of Foreign Service, I was so surprised (more like amazed) with the priveleges and immunities of diplomats that one speaker discussed. Here are a few of them:

[1] They don’t pay taxes.
[2] Their diplomat bags when travelling are not required to go through inspection no matter what happens.
[3] Ambassadors cannot be arrested or detained (in the receiving State) regardless of how heinous the crimes they committed are — even rape or murder.

These are because of the amount of trust that states put on other states and their representatives (ambassadors, consuls, diplomats) that most things are never questioned.

My God, if there’s only one thing that You could give me right now, please let me become a diplomat. That’s all. I won’t ask for a mansion, or a bachelor pad, or a Jaguar. Please… please…. Gawd, puhleezz.

Status: Gluttonous
Music: Dangerously in Love - Beyonce

Just like every Holy Week, I did a little visita iglesia yesterday (Good Friday) with my family. Again, I’m not a Christian but my family are. I’ve been schlepping myself lately on the road to Christianity but it’s really hard to force myself to have faith in Jesus Christ again. But so as not to disappoint my mum, I joined my family visit one church after another. It wasn’t that difficult actually, because I usually enjoy travelling. And we do this every year so I kinda get the hang of it.

Our first stop yesterday was Caleruega in Nasugbu, Batangas. This is one of my favourite churches — I like it better than the gigantic Basilica of San Martin de Tours in Taal. Maybe because of its location. Caleruega is on top of a hill. Very windy. Lots of flowers. More like a park than a church, actually.

Anyway, there was nothing spectacular that happened yesterday… other than Dennis Trillo was there, saying his prayers with us, in the same chapel. It was funny because I knew everyone recognised him yet no one, even the people nearest him, dared to approach him because hey, we were there to pray to God and not worship some star.

But damn, he was really cute.

*photo courtesy of imagesphilippines.com

Status: Desperate
Music: Over It - Katharine Mcphee / Lost Without You - Robin Thicke

I’ve been trying to complete my family tree since 2003 but it seems like the third generation (upward) from me is a dead end. I just can’t find any more information regarding my great grandparents on my dad’s side more than what I already have.

I started trying to find out more about my ancestry when my Film 102 (Philippine Cinema) professor, Mrs. Len Pareja, gave me an irrelevant homework. She told me to find out how we are connected by completing my family tree because, she said, she was quite sure I would find her name there. I thought it was a very easy job considering that Dimen is a very uncommon name. But until now, I haven’t gotten past the third generation.

So let this entry serve as a call to everyone whose last name is Dimen or everyone who is somehow connected to any Dimen in any way. Please send me an e-mail: dimen@yoshke.com. This call goes out to any Dimen in the Philippines, and also England, Canada, and the United States. Most of my distant relatives are said to have migrated to the countries mentioned above. It also goes out to any Dimen in Germany, Hungary, and Romania who is aware of any of their ancestors or relatives moving to the Philippines between the 19th century and the start of the 20th. Please, send me a message.

My grandparents are Julio Dimen and Emeteria Antonio but my grandmother’s original last name was Zaragoza (Emeteria Zaragoza, Spanish). She just changed it because of some stupid family issues. But I’m more interested in tracking my Dimen roots (and not the Zaragoza).

Please help me build my family tree.

Dear Yoshke,

You’ve always been the independent and the smart one. Your parents have always been proud of you. But what if, sometimes, you don’t want them only to be proud of you. God knows what you would give just to be loved the way your not-so-independent and not-so-smart siblings are.

Sincerely,
Your evil alter-ego

Status: At work
Music: Come to Me - P. Diddy feat Nicole Scherzinger

And yes, I already bid goodbye to my German Pride layout and to my entire blogdrive account as well. From now on, I will be using wordpress and the domain name yoshke.com. But if you still want to see my old blog, all you have to do is click this.

# # #

Anyway, as days go by, it becomes more and more difficult for me to conceal my gender from my family. The more I lie, the more I feel guilty. It would be very easy not to let them know about my sexuality, but lately they are getting suspicious and starting to ask questions that are really tough to answer.

Last week, while having dinner, my mum asked, “Oy, Yoshke, when are you going to bring another girlfriend here?”

And I answered so sweetly, “How can I bring a girlfriend? I don’t have one.”

My sister butted in, “The last time you introduced a girlfriend to us was December last year. Isn’t it time for us to meet a new one.”

“But I don’t have a girlfriend,” I uttered. “I have a boyfriend, though.”

Everybody laughed. It was a joke to them. Although it’s not true that I have a boyfriend right now, I wanted to see what their reactions would be. And they just laughed because they thought I was just joshing them.

But last Wednesday night was a different case. Again, we were having dinner when my mother initiated a talk about having a relative in the workplace. My sister and I share the same opinion, “No way.” And then she demanded for a reason.

I told Mum, “I wouldn’t want to be conscious of everything I do… especially when I know that he/she would tell the entire family of the going-ons in my life.”

My sister got curious, “Such as…?”

“Nothing,” I answered.

“Like something illegal, or something gay or something like it?”

And then my mum got on her feet and asked me with an eyebrow raised, “Are you gay?”

“HELL, NO!” I manly denied.

Oh well, that’s life. The dinner ended with a smug look on my face.

# # #

Let me take this opportunity to actually bash some of my gay friends. It annoys me that I always have to explain about my sexuality. In fact I have already talked about it in detail here. And as I said before, I don’t believe in gender. Gender is just a social construct. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re gay or lesbian or bisexual or whatever you want to call the homosexual/bisexual lot. They are just labels anyway. For me, you’re either male or female. And I don’t care if you’re a man who likes women or other men. I just fuckin’ don’t care. To me, you’re still a man because you have a dick hanging between your legs.

And yes, sometimes I use the term bisexual when talking about myself not because I accept the idea but because I want other people to understand. I may like other men but I LIKE GIRLS, TOO. And if you don’t believe me, then don’t. As if your opinion matters to me anyway.

But for a gay person not to believe that there are people who like BOTH men and women, or those who find it so pretentious, it doesn’t make sense. To think that these are the people who have always wanted open-mindedness so that they be accepted. Why can’t you accept that not all people are like you. Not all people who like men cannot love women just as well. Why can’t you understand this? I don’t know if you just have a pea-sized brain or you have some comprehension problem or you are just plain stupid. Anyway, why am I explaining this now when I know that they will never ever understand.

For the last time, I will tell you this, I love both men and women. And if you don’t want to believe this just because you’re not like me, then what can I say? Try this, just get a dick and never take it out of your mouth if it’s the only way for you to shut up.

And yes, I’m talking to you Bebs and Rex.