The how-to for child support

Disclaimer: This post should not be taken as an expert's opinion. I'm not a lawyer but I reckon someone out there may be asking Google about the matter, as my friend and fellow blogger Raine said (she's happily married  by the way). Let's just say I've been in your shoes before and want to share my experience hoping that I can help someone out there in my blogger's way of writing a how-to post. Please excuse the occasional expletives. Spare me too your pontifications, I have enough of that. 

If you are going through this right now or know someone who needs someone who has "been there been that" (hahaha), please send me an email at inatayblog@gmail.com. I can be a friend and can recommend a good lawyer for your child support battle.

- o0o -

Before we start, allow me to be blunt about this and state the obvious - it will not only be a financial battle but more importantly, an emotional one. Wounds, whether fresh or old, will be opened, you will have to recall everything that transpired and you have to be pretty resolute about seeking support from your former husband, boyfriend, partner, sperm donor and whatever you call him. It is inevitable that you will face this man, who has not only left you with a broken heart but also in a financial rut. This will be a painful ordeal but remember, you are doing this for your child/children because they are entitled to it, it is their right and you have to do something on their behalf.

Image: www.childsupport.alberta.ca

Repost: Love letter to Filipinos by Dr. David Harwell

This letter was written to all of us by an American Dr. David H. Harwell and appeared in Philippine Daily Inquirer Commentary on February 17, 2013. I read it and had goosebumps. I am re-posting it here hoping that it will warm your brown spirit as it did in mine.

-o0o-

I am writing to thank Filipinos for the way you have treated me here, and to pass on a lesson I learned from observing the differences between your culture and mine over the years.

I am an expatriate worker. I refer to myself as an OAW, an overseas American worker, as a bad joke. The work I do involves a lot of traveling and changing locations, and I do it alone, without family. I have been in 21 countries now, not including my own. It was fun at first.  Now, many years later, I am getting tired. The Philippines remains my favorite country of all, though, and I’d like to tell you why before I have to go away again.

I have lived for short periods here, traveled here, and have family and friends here. My own family of origin in the United States is like that of many Americans—not much of a family. Americans do not stay very close to their families, geographically or emotionally, and that is a major mistake. I have long been looking for a home and a family, and the Philippines is the only place I have lived where people honestly seem to understand how important their families are.

Beware: ATM scams - it's REAL!

Just last week, I read in a national broadsheet warning the public to be careful and vigilant in using automated teller machines (ATM) after a new scam was discovered. I don't think this is a "new" scam since every other year or so, scammers always seem to make a comeback. They just let the issue dissipate and the moment banks and depositors let their guards down, boom! Anyway, it still involves the same modus of "skimming" or capturing an ATM card's number, personal identification number (PIN) and other important information using a specialized scanner. The captured data is then used to make a duplicate card which the scammers use to make withdrawals, without the knowledge of the depositor of course. This scam also victimizes credit card owners.  The cause for the warning is a recent case of ATM fraud in UAE. 

Image from the web

Why it rocks to have a guy BFF

To celebrate 20 something years (and counting) of friendship with my best friend Anthony, I find it fitting to blog about him. Not only do I owe him a lot for saving my sanity during those times when I felt I was on the brink of going bananas but also for the love and support he has given me unquestioningly especially when I used to use him as an alibi every time I go out at night. hehehe Mom eventually found out and since then, she would make sure she's at a hearing distance when Anthony and I talk.
 

20 years of amazing friendship and counting - thanks for putting up with me!

I have been proud to say my best friend is a guy - a straight, testosterone-fuelled guy, since I was in Grade 5. We grew up in the same neighborhood and the weird thing is that he has the same nickname as my brother and I have the same name as his younger sister. See Best, we're destined to be friends and you're stuck with me until you grow wrinkled and gray and I'm still fabulous at 60! Kidding aside, I know you have to put up with a lot of s**t with me so this blog post is one way of showing you how much I appreciate your friendship all these years. Sniff, sniff...

Why does it rock to have a guy for a best friend? Lemme count the ways.

I remember Camembert!

I'm not really a food blogger. I eat in vast consumptions but I don't actually see myself a food critic. I guess it's because of the fact that I don't have a very adventurous palate. Each time there's a new restaurant in town, it would take a loooong time for me to try it out. I tend to stick to familiar flavors and places. I look for food that will speak to me and the taste to leave an unforgettable flavor in my mouth I have no choice but to have it again. It will have to be an epiphany, a learning experience that will shatter my food prejudices.

No homework, no cry

I am a child of that time where the definition of being "intelligent" was only limited to whether you can do mental Math or you can spell "floccinaucinihilipilification" without batting an eyelash. Never mind if you're good at music, sports, arts or what-have-you, back in the 80s it just didn't fit the bill. My parents jumped on to the bandwagon and set a study routine for me - on my first year in school. I still remember this pink cartolina posted on the bedroom wall where my schedules from Sunday evening to Friday afternoon were written. I was only allowed two hours of play on weekday and no TV except on weekends. I was scared of the punishment so I never tried disobeying my folks. The schedule was also imposed on my younger brother three years later but they didn't have much success with him.

Image from Photobucket