Jan
20
How Sadness Was Born, and Why So Many Kinds Remain Unnamed
Filed Under Chasing Fireflies | Leave a Comment
She wept for him so long and hard
her heart splintered into many pieces.
The wind blew these pieces of her into
all four corners of the earth, blew them far and wide
until no one could find all the missing pieces
and glue them back.
This is how sadness came into being,
and why so many kinds remain unnamed.
She could not have named sadness.
Her heart broke trying to understand it.
Text: Achinette Villamor
Photo: Aileen Siroy, Project 365.
Nov
20
Calamity Chin
Filed Under Family Chronicles | 5 Comments
Every time I get anywhere near pots and pans, it’s almost as though I lose 50 IQ points. Everything looks scary and strange in the kitchen, and I feel like making the sign of the cross on those rare occasions when I have to touch a frying pan. So does the husband, who’s tired of having to treat my burns or mop up after my mess.
I’m such a horrid cook I can only do one dish particularly well – scrambled eggs.
I have been mocked over this, subtly by the girls and not so subtly by the husband. The grandmothers think my ineptitude in the kitchen is a serious liability. “You’ll never find a man who’ll marry you if you don’t learn to cook,” Lola D used to say every time she catches me running away from the pan. She caught me often because I did a lot of running.
But well, I’m married now – to a man, thank heavens! I suppose that he can put up with my kitchen calamities is as good a sign as any that I am loved. I used to be deathly scared of sputtering oil in frying pans. I still am. That hissing sound you hear when you put fish, beef loaf, chicken, and just about anything else on a pan with heated oil? That sound gives me the heebiejeebies, and makes me fear for my life. What if a scalding hot chunk of meat would pop out of the pan and land smackdab on my face? What if the pan itself gets so hot it’d explode and hurtle from the stove to where I am?
I know there are a few things I’m good at. But, there are so few of them they don’t justify the fact that I’m HORRIBLE at the things I can’t do, like cooking. And when I tell you horrible, I mean calamitous to the level where people could be in danger and equipment will explode.
Nov
14
My family thinks I’m awesome, but every now and then, they tell me they suspect I’ve a few marbles missing. I’m not crazy; I’m just a bit strange every now and then, I swear on my freckles. I don’t do anything on impulse or whim. As a matter of fact, the most outrageous thing I’ve done to date isn’t even outrageous at all.
On second thought, forget outrageous. It’s not even out of the ordinary: I answered a job ad for acne.
Here’s how the ad went:
We want to PAY YOU to give yourself acne!
We’re looking for a moderately attractive male or female, aged 18-35, with fairly clear skin and a good sense of humor. The assignment is to spend one week trying to GIVE YOURSELF ACNE: you will smear your face with oil, crisco, pizza grease, and other unctuous substances, then go about your daily business.
A high-quality digital camera is required, as you must take plenty of pictures (at least 10 per day). You will also need to keep a written journal of your experiences (at least 2 typed pages per day). Your experiences will then be written up for our award-winning comedy Web site, where we will give your experiment massive publicity. Please do not apply if you do not want to become a “breakout” star!
We will pay $250 for the experiment, plus reasonable expenses, with an additional $100 bonus if you are able to successfully give yourself at least five zits.
Female? Check. 18 – 35? Check. Fairly clear skin? Check. Good sense of humor? Of course. Moderately attractive? Ha! They should up that ante a little! Toss in royally bored and I’m the perfect candidate for the experiment. I quickly shot them mail and told them I wanted the job. Read more