DJ Vettie Vette presents Everybody Loves The Sunshine: Summer Mix 2009

I was shocked the day MIchael Jackson died and now when I think about it, it still hurts a little. Mostly because there will never be another person who can do what he did in this lifetime. He is the King. This was further confirmed when I went to the Philippines and saw for my own eyes the global impact he had. They were playing one of his concerts on big screens in most of the Manila malls. It was a great sight to see and it inspired me to put together this mix. I didn’t want it to be just a Michael Jackson tribute mix, so I thought I would construct a mix around a few of my favorites from his collection. I usually have my mixes a little more planned out – but this one was a little more spontaneous. Just like any Michael Jackson song, one is compelled to dance and I honestly felt like I was playing out at a party when I made this one. Mostly vinyl w/ a little help from Traktor.

Enjoy!

Tracklisting:
1. Rock With You (Frankie Knuckles edit) – Michael Jackson
2. Get It – Stevie Wonder and Michael Jackson
3. Private Eyes – Hall and Oates
4. Everything She Wants – Wham!
5. Dancing In the Key of Life – Steve Arrington
6. Love Bazaar – Sheila E.
7. Automatic – Pointer Sisters
8. Lessons In Love – Level 42
9. Say, Say, Say – Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney
10. You Know How to Love Me – Phyllis Hyman
11. Victim – Candi Staton
12. It Should Have Been You – Gwen Guthrie
13. Let’s Hear it For the Boy – Deniece Williams

This song captures some of the greatest things I enjoy about being Filipino and visiting the Philippines. It is a song about the longing desire of unrequited love. The emotion in my Lola’s voice while singing this song activates the memories of Philippines from the recesses of my brain. It captures my feelings of wanting to constantly remained connected to the motherland. The trip was breathtaking, inspiring, and humbling. I can’t quite come up with the words to quantify what it was like to be there with family. It is a vacation that I will never forget and I promise that I will not wait another 13 years before being able to return. Please enjoy the videos (there are more when you click the Vimeo link) and the pix that I’ve posted to my flickr account starting with the one below!
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Yesterday was Yvette vs. Murphy’s Law day. What could go wrong DID go wrong. I missed my AM flt due to subway delays. I left the house at 7:15 and would’ve easily gotten to JFK by 8AM from Bed-Stuy had it not been for this stupidity. I got on the afternoon flight that was expected to arrive in Oakland at 7:30, but as soon as we boarded it started to pour and we were stuck on the tarmac for 2.5 hours until takeoff. We landed in Oakland at 9:30. Check-in for Philippine Airlines closes at 9:45. I was freaking out and fortunately my cousin Francis texted me and told me not to worry. While I was up in the air saying 1,000,000 Hail Maries for the flt to just get there safely and everything will be ok, my parents and auntie teamed up and rebooked my ticket for Wednesday. I txted my mom in the Philippines and told her I was very upset that I wasn’t on the plane for Manila already. She called and told me to chill – these things happen and I will be ok. As my 2 favorite guy cousins picked me up, my exhaustion started to set in. Oh and did I mention I lost my voice? Yes. I sound like a cracked out Joan Rivers right now. I have a little cough, but I don’t feel sick. I was tired the extra night was a must-needed diversion.

I woke up this morning and ate breakfast on my parents new veranda. It is weird to be in such a big, empty house. WAY different from my approx. 830 sq. foot apartment I share w/ Joanie. This is where I grew up – subtle changes, but all very familiar. Due to my voice, my mom did not sleep as a result of worrying. She promptly informed me about her predicament 3:30 in the morning their time. Apparently, the Philippines is being quite vigilant about swine flu and is doing random thermal scans at the airport. She asked me to call my Tita Helen (an RN) and/or talk to Francis (one of the cousins who picked me up who happens to be an RN) to get medication…if all else fails I was instructed to ask my aunties to talk to a family friend, Dr. Mendoza, to give me some antibiotic. Both Francis and Tita Helen said that I had nothing to worry about over the phone and that it will naturally run its course. My attempt to argue that I was fine was rebuked and I was instructed via email to not be stubborn because she would rather that I stay in the US than be stuck in quarantine. I heard my mother’s voice in my head as I read this email. Since I wanted to see my Tita anyway and I really didn’t want to be stuck in no damn quarantine for my vacation, I promptly drove to Richmond and picked up the meds. I also took my own temperature and it’s normal. Fortunately, she had a prescription cough med that she said will calm my cough and help my throat. I went to Apo’s house (grandma) and told to return later on in the afternoon so that I can eat there – my auntie was baking chicken. SCORE! I leave for the airport around 6:30ish tonight. I called PAL to confirm it’s been rebooked. All is fine.

I am relieved that I had this time to take it easy before boarding another plane. I am able to catch up w/ family and get some extra sleep. It has been a year since I’ve seen my Apo who is 91 – that was the biggest plus to staying an extra night. The Lord did answer my Hail Mary’s – everybody is safe and healthy. Oops I better go…my auntie just called and said the chicken is done! I can hear my Apo in the background giving her instructions to tell me to come…

And I sang it w/ my brother the day before the King of Pop passed away. I just had him on my mind all weekend.

I will NEVER be able to say goodbye to the music, the icon – Michael Jackson. I hope that you are now resting peacefully up in heaven and the worries of the world have all washed away.

Some of you have asked and the answer is NO, I have not retired from DJing. It took some time to regroup and settle down after the move. No more excuses. Here’s something that will hopefully help lighten your mood.
Track:Anticipation! A DJ Vettie Vette Spring 2009 Mix
Tracklist:
1. “Living for the Love of You” – Isley Brothers
2. “California Soul” – Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell
3. “Georgy Porgy” – Toto
4. “Lovely Day” – Bill Withers
5. “You Are My Heaven” – Donny Hathaway and Roberta Flack
6. “Once I Had A Love (The Disco Song)” – Blondie
7. “Funk’ for Jamaica” – Towa Tei feat. Les Nubians
8. “I Love Everything About You” – Syreeta
9. “Baby I’m Scared of You” – Womack and Womack
10. “It Began in Africa” – Urban All-Stars (Norman Cook aka Fatboy Slim)
11. “Starchild” – Level 42
12. “A Roller Skating Jam named Saturdays” – De La Soul

It’s been a hectic week. Joe got a nasty boil on his head – so much of my time was spent helping him go to the ER, etc. He’s fine now. Sunday was all me. It’s been cold for too long this winter and this weekend we finally had some REAL warm weather. So I took advantage of it. This whole idea started when I received an email Friday from a reporter at the Brooklyn Paper asking me to answer a few questions for an article she’s writing to promote this cooking contest I’m participating in: Park Slope Pork-Off. She also asked me to submit a pic of me cooking or eating something w/ pork in it. Chinatown proved to be the PERFECT place for this. It was also a great day to spend some quality time w/ my sis Joanie who also happens to be professional photographer. For those in the know – Chinatown is a ‘hood I’ve become intimately familiar with. It’s my one-stop shopping spot for groceries, particularly when cooking Asian food. I enjoy wandering around the different veggie stands/butchers (mostly on Grand – Canal is too annoying) for the freshest ingredients. Don’t get me wrong – I enjoy places like Fairway and Trader Joe’s – but I’ve found the best basic produce in Chinatown. I hit the other spots for the specialty stuff. So armed w/ my Brooklyn grocery bag and my sister and her Canon 5D, away we went! Enjoy the pix!

Aaaah Pomme de Terre. Housed around the corner from a bodega and next to a storefront Pentecostal Christian Spanish church – this alone makes this place truly Brooklyn and yet the meal is so French – possibly one of the best I’ve had in NYC. The boy and I wanted to try something new and finally ventured into this homey place – a spot I’ve been eyeing since working part-time on Foster Avenue.

1st course – the crispy calamari w/ lemon aoli and the mussels provencale.
2nd course – me: medium rare hangar steak w/ creamed spinach and fingerling potatoes. him: steak frites au poivre medium rare (duh anything more = burnt to us)
dessert – cappucino, bruleed banana caramel and baked (i think?) apple w/ mascarpone cream.
drinks – cotes du rhone for me. and I think they were offering bottles of tempranillo at half off…
service – impeccable. granted, it wasn’t very busy when we went on a Thursday night, but you can tell everyone who works in that place cares about the customers and the food.

All delicious and perfect meal for a couple who doesn’t splurge too often. Am I a regular now? Oh yes…

shoes, originally uploaded by joeytoofresh.

In an effort to forge our surrogate families here in Brooklyn, my sister and I hosted our first dinner party in Brooklyn. These pix were taken by Joey. It allowed me to debut the crock-pot and serve some kare-kare aka Filipino oxtail peanut stew. Good times, lots of laughs, and GREAT company.

One of my favorite poems is by Jose Rizal. The Philippine national hero who died by execution in 1896.

Mi último adiós

¡Adiós, Patria adorada, región del sol querida,
Perla del mar de oriente, nuestro perdido Edén!
A darte voy alegre la triste mustia vida,
Y fuera más brillante, más fresca, más florida,
También por ti la diera, la diera por tu bien.

En campos de batalla, luchando con delirio,
Otros te dan sus vidas sin dudas, sin pesar;
El sitio nada importa, ciprés, laurel o lirio,
Cadalso o campo abierto, combate o cruel martirio,
Lo mismo es si lo piden la patria y el hogar.

Yo muero cuando veo que el cielo se colora
Y al fin anuncia el día tras lóbrego capuz;
si grana necesitas para teñir tu aurora,
Vierte la sangre mía, derrámala en buen hora
Y dórela un reflejo de su naciente luz.

Mis sueños cuando apenas muchacho adolescente,
Mis sueños cuando joven ya lleno de vigor,
Fueron el verte un día, joya del mar de oriente,
Secos los negros ojos, alta la tersa frente,
Sin ceño, sin arrugas, sin manchas de rubor

Ensueño de mi vida, mi ardiente vivo anhelo,
¡Salud te grita el alma que pronto va a partir!
¡Salud! Ah, que es hermoso caer por darte vuelo,
Morir por darte vida, morir bajo tu cielo,
Y en tu encantada tierra la eternidad dormir.

Si sobre mi sepulcro vieres brotar un día
Entre la espesa yerba sencilla, humilde flor,
Acércala a tus labios y besa al alma mía,
Y sienta yo en mi frente bajo la tumba fría,
De tu ternura el soplo, de tu hálito el calor.

Deja a la luna verme con luz tranquila y suave,
Deja que el alba envíe su resplandor fugaz,
Deja gemir al viento con su murmullo grave,
Y si desciende y posa sobre mi cruz un ave,
Deja que el ave entone su cántico de paz.

Deja que el sol, ardiendo, las lluvias evapore
Y al cielo tornen puras, con mi clamor en pos;
Deja que un ser amigo mi fin temprano llore
Y en las serenas tardes cuando por mí alguien ore,
¡Ora también, oh Patria, por mi descanso a Dios!

Ora por todos cuantos murieron sin ventura,
Por cuantos padecieron tormentos sin igual,
Por nuestras pobres madres que gimen su amargura;
Por huérfanos y viudas, por presos en tortura
Y ora por ti que veas tu redención final.

Y cuando en noche oscura se envuelva el cementerio
Y solos sólo muertos queden velando allí,
No turbes su reposo, no turbes el misterio,
Tal vez acordes oigas de cítara o salterio,
Soy yo, querida Patria, yo que te canto a ti.

Y cuando ya mi tumba de todos olvidada
No tenga cruz ni piedra que marquen su lugar,
Deja que la are el hombre, la esparza con la azada,
Y mis cenizas, antes que vuelvan a la nada,
El polvo de tu alfombra que vayan a formar.

Entonces nada importa me pongas en olvido.
Tu atmósfera, tu espacio, tus valles cruzaré.
Vibrante y limpia nota seré para tu oído,
Aroma, luz, colores, rumor, canto, gemido,
Constante repitiendo la esencia de mi fe.

Mi patria idolatrada, dolor de mis dolores,
Querida Filipinas, oye el postrer adiós.
Ahí te dejo todo, mis padres, mis amores.
Voy donde no hay esclavos, verdugos ni opresores,
Donde la fe no mata, donde el que reina es Dios.

Adiós, padres y hermanos, trozos del alma mía,
Amigos de la infancia en el perdido hogar,
Dad gracias que descanso del fatigoso día;
Adiós, dulce extranjera, mi amiga, mi alegría,
Adiós, queridos seres, morir es descansar.

José Rizal, 1896

My Last Farewell

Farewell, beloved Country, treasured region of the sun,
Pearl of the sea of the Orient, our lost Eden!
To you eagerly I surrender this sad and gloomy life;
And were it brighter, fresher, more florid,
Even then I’d give it to you, for your sake alone.

In fields of battle, deliriously fighting,
Others give you their lives, without doubt, without regret;
The place matters not: where there’s cypress, laurel or lily,
On a plank or open field, in combat or cruel martyrdom,
It’s all the same if the home or country asks.

I die when I see the sky has unfurled its colors
And at last after a cloak of darkness announces the day;
If you need scarlet to tint your dawn,
Shed my blood, pour it as the moment comes,
And may it be gilded by a reflection of the heaven’s newly-born light.

My dreams, when scarcely an adolescent,
My dreams, when a young man already full of life,
Were to see you one day, jewel of the sea of the Orient,
Dry those eyes of black, that forehead high,
Without frown, without wrinkles, without stains of shame.

My lifelong dream, my deep burning desire,
This soul that will soon depart cries out: Salud!
To your health! Oh how beautiful to fall to give you flight,
To die to give you life, to die under your sky,
And in your enchanted land eternally sleep.

If upon my grave one day you see appear,
Amidst the dense grass, a simple humble flower,
Place it near your lips and my soul you’ll kiss,
And on my brow may I feel, under the cold tomb,
The gentle blow of your tenderness, the warmth of your breath.

Let the moon see me in a soft and tranquil light,
Let the dawn send its fleeting radiance,
Let the wind moan with its low murmur,
And should a bird descend and rest on my cross,
Let it sing its canticle of peace.

Let the burning sun evaporate the rains,
And with my clamor behind, towards the sky may they turn pure;
Let a friend mourn my early demise,
And in the serene afternoons, when someone prays for me,
O Country, pray to God also for my rest!

Pray for all the unfortunate ones who died,
For all who suffered torments unequaled,
For our poor mothers who in their grief and bitterness cry,
For orphans and widows, for prisoners in torture,
And for yourself pray that your final redemption you’ll see.

And when the cemetery is enveloped in dark night,
And there, alone, only those who have gone remain in vigil,
Disturb not their rest, nor the mystery,
And should you hear chords from a zither or psaltery,
It is I, beloved Country, singing to you.

And when my grave, then by all forgotten,
has not a cross nor stone to mark its place,
Let men plow and with a spade scatter it,
And before my ashes return to nothing,
May they be the dust that carpets your fields.

Then nothing matters, cast me in oblivion.
Your atmosphere, your space and valleys I’ll cross.
I will be a vibrant and clear note to your ears,
Aroma, light, colors, murmur, moan, and song,
Constantly repeating the essence of my faith.

My idolized country, sorrow of my sorrows,
Beloved Filipinas, hear my last good-bye.
There I leave you all, my parents, my loves.
I’ll go where there are no slaves, hangmen nor oppressors,
Where faith doesn’t kill, where the one who reigns is God.

Goodbye, dear parents, brother and sisters, fragments of my soul,
Childhood friends in the home now lost,
Give thanks that I rest from this wearisome day;
Goodbye, sweet foreigner, my friend, my joy;
Farewell, loved ones, to die is to rest.

For the past few years I’ve been at the Jewish Board, I’ve been thinking about my role and my place within the agency. Moving to New York has been an eye opening experience in many ways, particularly when it comes to being Filipino. For the first 25 years of my life, I was spoiled. I have a big Filipino family that never quite gave up the culture and traditions for the sake of assimilating. I speak the language, I can cook the food (grew up w/ a dirty kitchen in Concord at grandma’s house), and I know the history to a ‘t’. So I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to get when moving to New York City. I knew where Queens was and that I get involved when I can with the community in NYC, but I was hoping that it would be the same as California – it is New York, the most diverse city in the world. But the experience has been very different, in New York I have become accustomed to people in Bushwick assuming I was Dominican or Chinese/Korean/Japanese if I was in Manhattan (save for Chinatown – they KNOW I’m Filipino there). It is kind of weird to me, but I don’t mind feeling this way because I think it has helped me become more aware of who I am and how I can use that knowledge as a clinician.

Such is the feeling I got the other day when I attended the first regional Jewish Board Brooklyn People of Color meeting. I knew I was going to be the only Filipino, only Asian, in the room and everybody else was of African descent or Spanish-speaking. This has not been the first time I’ve attended a meeting of this kind and was an ‘only.’ New York, in many ways like other parts of this country (California being the exception) still views racism as Black and White. And 5 years of thinking about this conundrum finally led to this ‘epiphany’ and it all came spilling out when it was my turn to share my feelings on our first meeting. I was nervous, but managed to get through it with the help of everybody else. I talked about all of the above. It was freeing.

I also noted how it could have been really easy for me to get a job with an agency that targets Asians in New York, but I didn’t want to (I noticed one of the other attendees saying, “I was about to ask you that). I chose not to apply to any of those agencies because I strongly believe that I am at a point in my life, my identity where I needed a different challenge. I will ALWAYS be a part of the Filipino community in some form, but I also think that it is my responsibility as a Filipino professional clinician to give my community a voice by working in a larger agency with other groups of ‘others’. As a student and community organizer, I’d often become frustrated by the lack of recognition of Filipinos in the many movements targeting civil rights and racism in this country. I think that’s due in part to divide and conquer tactics by dominant White society attempting erase our struggle in this country and their imperialism from the textbooksandthe Filipino community’s own provincial nature. So if it means that I’m the only Filipino sitting at the room during these meetings for the time being, so be it. Bring on the challenge. I’ve sung to the choir many times and now it’s time to bring it to the church. I want other people of color to know that our community exists and that we stand in solidarity with them in examining one of the most important issues that impacts us all – this country’s racist history and how we can help each other andour clients through our own journeys with it.