inglorious wanderer

It's not just James Taylor. Plucked from the third world, I so much sing the song to myself. I hum because I am not a belter. Vagabond not bag of bones. I love driving down the road in the middle of nowhere in South Dakota.  But the best part is going home to my love ones: my Babe with the big kid and the monkey. My Babe plucked me from the third world. Big kid is now a student at San Diego State University. She calls me mother. I wish I'd never have to call her Godzilla again. The monkey is a flute player and she plays ♫♪♫what a wonderful world♫♪ for me in flute. I guess I am a lucky person. Lucky to get out of a stupid marriage alive. But lucky most of all to be plucked from the third world. Yahoo. My Babe found me. I love my Babe forever. He saved me by plucking me out of the third world.

Why go pluck yourself? You don't really have to. If it sound like an adult language to you, don't say it. What the pluck! I am plucked up from the third world. I don't give a pluck to those who think I don't love my country of birth. If it's your mission to pluck our country out from the ruins, then by all means don't pluck yourself out, Teresita. The country needs you.You don't want to be a second class citizen. Rant about your nationalism for all you want. All I know is you're eating your heart out. A pigeon flies from one tree into another. Just like plucking people migrating from the rural area to the city into another country. Just like me, plucked up me. Bannatiran is a plucking bird. Kind of a pigeon. Not just any plucking bird.

The parade took place in Mira Mesa and it felt like I was back in MyPinas. Instead of the virgin, all the angels and saints, stone-hard and frigid as they had always been, were a bevy of women, young and once young. The parade, not a Lenten procession, had a festive atmosphere. It's Uncle Sam's birthday, of course. The women parading in transvestites cars were fireworks in themselves. "That must be Tiffany Knight." "You know her?" Karlee asked. "Nope." But I was glad to see a non-Asian in the parade. "She looks like Barack Obama's daughter, don't you think?" a Caucasian lady standing next to me asked. She must be a Republican. I actually found the African-American young lady pretty. Pretty decent, that is. I waved at her and she waved back at me. "Nice car." "Too fruity." "Fruits are meant to be smoothies," another Caucasian man countered. "Wait till you see the Pride Parade at Hillcrest in tw...

Pagosa Springs, Colorado June 26, 2011 I could not relate with Julie Andrews singing and flying on the meadows in the movie "Sound of Music". Until now, I find the movie too pha khin corny, I had to smack my forehead wishing the thought would just go away.  "Climb every mountain," the pha khin song was like a fly hovering by as I trailed behind NASA Lee, RN, KG, Karlee, Terry and Alexander at the Piedra Trails along the boulders of the San Juan Mountains. Alright, alright! I did sing about fording every stream. I must have been really pha khin bored. I did not know why I was going to church every Sunday to accept the Holy Eucharist. I did like singing "Amen" eight times in different octaves. It all started on a question on a handmade poster I found on a church bulleting board: "Do you have a call? Come attend the Search-in." I was on a trek to visit a Manobo tribe family in the hinterlands of San Luis, Agusan del Sur. I was a...