we'll kind of always win.

many don't quite understand how a bunch of well-dressed ladies could possibly act the way we do, but those who could look back into such a uniquely messed up childhood would understand very well that it's such tribulation and sometimes corruption that creates characters.


and it's really not something that's easily understood.


because i didnt know that not everyone watched the clock for 5 o'clock and that not everyone has an aunty that was so fear-inspiring, that every child was either on the ground fixing floor runners, or had their little hands in the crevices of the couch, or kneeling around the wooden coffee-table, hiding newspapers and newspaper hats and boats.

and i didnt know that every black dog didnt have to be named "blacky," and every brown dog didnt need to be called "browny." but such is filipino life, and the zaragozas still havent gotten the memo.

well let it be known that not much has changed, and the dirty little ghetto kid lies dormant within all of us. and while we dress and groom as we do, our humor will forever betray a somewhat twisted upbringing.

because we may laugh. and make others laugh. and laugh with others. but no one, no one, no one, makes us laugh harder than the originals. the original parangans. the original story-tellers. the original kings of hilarity. oh, and sonny-boy... 15 years later, and STILL no one gets the remote from him. and the sight of my older cousins is still a humbling one--just one word from them, (regardless of how old or wise i get), instantly makes me feel like im again, the youngest girl of the parangans, crying to my grandma over the fact that everyone is making me and alona fight.

but as messed up as we are, i can't begin to explain how thankful i am that we were forever taught that to act a certain way would bring eternal shame to yourself, and more importantly, the family. to never come empty-handed to a gathering. to always give back so much more than you were ever given and never ever be tight-fisted. to listen and learn very well from your elders. and more importantly, to watch your kids and never hold back the rod. cause sometimes, guys... most times, actually.... you just neeeda slap your kid.

and so i trip out a little when i see my older cousins having children of their own. and to the rest of the world they're considered 2nd cousins and 3rd and 4ths and.. blahblahblah. but an aunt is an aunt, and a cousin's kid is considered a niece and nephew. and while it's not proper, it just feels right. so these uniquely-named children now means that a new generation will be taught the secret of back-scratching, with techniques including side-middle-side and go-round-the-itchy-bite.

elijah, watching the telly

aaliyah and d'angelo, super sweaty and kinda stink.

eric, sharol, lyrick, sonny

eric and baby lyrick

and it's a blessing, really. that those you haven't seen in too long of a while are able to come together for the most important of moments. that regardless of tensions or times, a deep-set appreciation will move one to recognize what the world should.

anyway, the normal reader won't understand half of what im saying. but because im not one to email, but will usually jump at a chance to blog something worthy, this blog and the included pictures and videos are dedicated to joanne.
cause yeah, distances, whether from NY to LA, or even just salt lake to kalihi, are brought to nothing when roots run deep. .

beatdown.