What do moons and eggs have in common?

I'm not the girl I was in 2003

2008-01-20T21:26:00.000+08:00

I'm finding it hard to write about myself and the silly things that are happening to me right now. I guess I'm just not the same girl who started blogging in 2003. I guess I've slowly realized that in cyberspace honesty must be coupled with moderation. So...I guess I have to think things over. A personal blog isn't working for me anymore. My travel blog keeps me happy, though. I'll keep that one. So I guess this is it. It was fun while it lasted. Thanks for listening to me through all these years.

Fifteen more minutes of sleep

2008-01-10T14:28:00.000+08:00

Some people get their fifteen minutes of fame. Me, I get my fifteen minutes of sleep. That is, fifteen more minutes of sleep time in addition to my usual seven hours every weekday.

When work resumed last Monday (I had a two-week vacation during the Christmas season), I thought it would be good to start waking up at 5 A.M. so I can pray more. But I found myself still sleepy. And at the office, I felt so sluggish and sooo not at my best. So yesterday I set my alarm clock at 5:15, and lo and behold, it did the trick. I woke up refreshed and ready to face another work day. It turns out fifteen minutes more sleep was all I needed.

Resolutions

2007-12-31T21:54:00.000+08:00

I am making another set of resolutions for 2008 simply because I manage to do most of them, anyway. And that's the point of resolutions, really.

I thought writing these things down will be a happy and hope-filled activity in anticipation of awesome things to come. But right now, there's just this sharp ache in my chest and my stomach feels tangled in knots.

I refused to admit this to myself but I guess it's time to acknowledge this simple fact: I'm not very good at keeping things exciting.

Oh but I tried to. I still do. I still try. I try so hard to think of interesting things to say. I try to keep the conversation going. I want to know you deeply through the little things you say.

But sometimes I wonder: If communications is a two-way thing, then why am I the only one doing the talking? I ask what you have to say, and you say that you have nothing to say.

I am the captain of my ship.

Or is it, I am the captain of my soul?

I think of our first month and my eyes wet with tears at how happy we've been.

That is what I shall steer myself to get back to.

And so:

For myself--
1. I realized that the prayer method that works for me best is Ignatian contemplation, which I learned in 2006. I tried the prayer method in the booklet "Our Daily Bread" in 2007 but it did not give me the level of clarity I got from contemplation. So I will go back to that. I will aim for 30 minutes a day of prayer.

Someone once told me that the mark of a true Christian can be seen at the joy he or she radiates around him or her. I want to be a true believer. I worry too much, even if I must not. And this makes me sad. A real nutcase. So I desire to put my trust in the Lord always. I want to be happy.

2. I will write anything, no matter how silly, for 30 minutes a day at the minimum. Sometimes, I look at the palm of my hand and remember how amazed J. was at how I have an actual "writer's fork." That was in high school, when she was very much into palmistry. I also remember how she said that the lines of our palms change as we grow older. Well I've been looking at my hand and wonder why my "writer's fork" is still there, even if I only write news articles for work, and not things that will save the soul. There must be a very good reason for that.

3. I will be a real life-long learner. Thanks to J. (again!), I learned that foreign universities have open courses! Online! This truly madly deeply excites the nerd in me. I will make time for it. I find this particularly interesting.

4. I will blog more, like in 2003 when I first started blogging and I updated my blog almost every day. But of course, unlike in 2003, I will practice restraint this time around. Because--oooh--someone's older and wiser. =)

5. I will share more of my blessings with my favorite brother and sister.

6. I will volunteer for something worthwhile.

7. I will try to have a meaningful conversation with my father.

8. I will call my mom often when she gets back to the US.

9. I will eat more vegetables, fruits and...oatmeal.

For me and my Tumi---
(For this, allow me to be a bit cryptic.)

1. I will have fun. Because he is a fun person. He's a happy go nappy boi.

2. I will try not to be so scared of the embassy consul. I know very well what I will be traveling for. And I'm not a criminal. I have my own money. And I know where my home is. So there's absolutely nothing to worry about.

3. I will get a life. I seem to have left my independence at God-knows-where.

4. I will be a better girlfriend. I love my boyfriend very much.

My 2007 thus far

2007-12-25T20:56:00.000+08:00

I had several goals for 2007 and I unfortunately was not able to accomplish all of them. To illustrate:

Goal #1:
Go back to school.

Reason for not reaching it:
I was quite sure I wanted a MA in Japanese Studies. I even took basic Nihongo for a semester and months later, Ria-chan and I befriended a grandfatherly Japanese named Kaz-san to teach us more. But my mind when blank mid-way. I suddenly had doubts for no apparent reason. And then there's the issue of scholarships and tuition subsidy which I prefer not to elaborate on.

Goal #2:
Write. Seriously.

Reason for not reaching it:
I had this mistaken notion that I will be writing like a mad(wo)man once I get my hands on a laptop. So I've been putting off writing and for months, I was content with just letting my ideas brew in my mind. But now that I have a laptop (I've had one since October of this year, thanks to my Mama), all I've been doing so far are the following: surfing the Internet, chatting with Tumi, and emailing people. I must get my act together next year. This is one of the things I offered up to the Lord during the Advent Recollection at the office. So help me God!

And these are the things that I managed to do:

Achievement #1:
Read the Bible everyday and finish the whole book by the end of the year. I'm doing good so far. I'm right on track. The Bible is such a breeze to read. A real page-turner. Everyone should read it.

Achievement #2:
Travel. In March, I went to Kuala Lumpur with my favorite brother. The city was like a bigger version of Greenbelt. Nothing special. I will take my brother somewhere else next time. In April, I went to El Nido in Palawan, thanks to a travel writing assignment for a glossy magazine. The two resort islands, Miniloc and Lagen, were fun places. Miniloc was for the young while Lagen (my favorite!) was for older and more sophisticaled travelers. Service was superb and food was excellent. This is also where I learned the basics of diving and kayaking. I'm still no expert, though. Sometime in April or May (I forgot), my family and I went to Ocean Adventure in Subic. I've seen it before with my college buddies in 2005, but it was a different experience with my family. I loved seeing my sister happy. She loves animals.

The year won't end without another trip, of course. On the 27th and 28th, my officemates and I will go to Pampanga. This will be our first time traveling together for a non-work-related thing. I hope it goes well.

Achievement #3:
Study Nihongo. Self-study is truly satisfying. There are 25 lessons in the book I'm using and I'm now in lesson number 23. I will finish this by January of 2008, if I'm disciplined enough. Ganbatte!

But there are some unexpected things that changed the course of my life in a pleasurable way:

1. My mom went to the U.S. for a while and I grew up. I learned to take responsibility. I realized how much I love and enjoy being with my family.

2. After my boss talked to me seriously (I was bordering on being a problem employee for half of the year), I realized what a lazy ass I've been. I made my amends to God, to myself and to my community and strove to love my work. I thought my work was so boring and useless before, but as I began to immerse myself in my work, I realized that it's as fun as I make it to be. Meaning, the satisfaction I get from work depends on my willpower and determination to succeed and be of service. I also realized that my relationship with my officemates is a two-way thing. If I am positive around them, they will also be positive around me. I used to be uncomfortable eating lunch with them, but now, lunch time is a fun time composed of eating, laughing and sharing stories. In short, I get as much as I give of myself. This December, when my boss gave me her Christmas gift, I was touched more by the note that came with with the gift than with the actual gift. She thanked me for the work I've done this year, acknowledged my growth, and reminded me that everything I do is for glorifying the Lord.

3. My house is becoming a home again. =)

4. I got to know my cousin a bit. Interesting person. I don't usually talk to my relatives. I don't know why. But I'm happy that fate found a way of connecting me with at least one person from the extended family.

5. I discovered the joy of cooking. This was actually prompted more by the thought of starving to death with my future husband than by the joy of creating a culinary masterpiece. Besides, eating out (our first solution to the impending problem) is expensive. The chance to finally test my cooking skills presented itself when my parents suggested that I cook every Sunday as an additional contribution to the family expenses. The first dish I cooked, chicken parmesan, went well enough. Nobody got food poisoning or diarrhea or anything yucky like that. Now I look forward to cooking. I discovered that I can do it after all. Maybe all those cooking shows I watch (starting as a kid...hello Del Monte Kitchenomics...and now, Lifestyle Network)combined with restaurant-hopping and food-tripping with my foodie friends has really trained my taste buds. Well and good.

6. I found love. I found love even when I was not looking for it. God can be funny like that. I should thank my Tita, my mom, and my cousin. And...I HEART YOU TUMI!

Why you should visit youtube...NOW!

2007-12-19T16:46:00.000+08:00

I'm so proud of my school.

The day I opened my piggy bank

2007-12-13T20:17:00.000+08:00

I opened my piggy bank today and found a grand total of P2,675 inside. I had P300 of the coins changed to paper bills by someone from work. Then I went to the bank at lunch time to have the rest of it changed.

So that will be my Christmas money for this year. It felt like free money when the bank teller handed it to me. It was a warm, fuzzy feeling. Like I did something good, very, very good.

I'll spend it on gifts for the family. I know exactly what to give them. It feels good to not be so stressed about where to get money for gifts. I got the piggy bank tip from money-related articles on MSN.com. I am soooo loving MSN right now.

I'm not sure what to give Tumi, though. And I'm not sure why I'm problematizing it either. I guess it's such a big deal for me because I haven't given any gift to any boyfriend before. This will be the first.

I Should Tell You (Rent soundtrack)

2007-12-07T09:12:00.000+08:00

This song has been in my head since Wednesday. I like it a lot. I feel so happy today.

I Should Tell You Lyrics

Nihongo, 22 of 25

2007-11-27T20:53:00.001+08:00

Of course I haven't forgotten my Nihongo. I haven't written about it, yes, but I have been squeezing it in my schedule. I am now in Lesson 22. There are 25 lessons all in all. I plan to finish it before the year ends.

Our (me and Ria) friend Kaz, the grandfatherly Japanese guy who taught us as much Nihongo as he can while he was still here in the Philippines, sent us a breezy email recently. And I remembered those humid Saturday afternoons we spent sipping green tea and nervously stringing Japanese words together. In turn, me and Ria helped Kaz with his English...and his paper for his class.

Occasionally, he would tell us about life in Japan, the publishing business (his expertise), and what-not. Those were the days when I knew exactly what to do. I miss those times.

Culture vulture

2007-11-24T21:35:00.000+08:00

Former School of Humanities Dean Leovino Garcia, during the opening of the Passion and Compassion exhibit at the Ateneo Art Gallery, advised beginning art collectors to buy works of art because they like them and not because of some perceived future value (ie, as an investment). I guess I should take my cue from him.

I still don't have the money to buy the works of art that move me. And I still don't have the proper space to store my treasures, but at least I have this piece of wisdom.

I read from Christine's blog about this old building in Makati that sells paintings for as low as Php 700. At that price, the paintings are practically being given away. I saw some of the paintings in Christine's camera and I saw one painting that I liked very much. I wanted to go there and see the paintings for myself, but then the thought of the artworks being made by "unknowns" got me worried. Do the artworks have value? What tangible thing can I get out of them after satisfying the needs of my soul?

Wrong approach.

So I figured I should approach this art collecting thing the way I select seats in theaters, and in the way I started buying original DVDs instead of pirated ones.

When I watch plays, I don't mind paying for the most expensive seat as long as I get the best view of the stage. I like it that way. It makes the whole theater experience fuller and more satisfying. I see everything and (hopefully) understand everything, too.

As for DVDs, I buy originals, but only when they're on sale. Dean Garcia said that he himself haggles with the artist when buying artworks. I found it a comforting thought for art-lovers-on-a-budget like me.

Since I haven't been creating much art as I'm supposed to, I figured I should support it the best way I can. It's my own little contribution to the universe's creative spirit. Even if I myself don't write/ create much these days, at least the people around me are.

I support Gov. Ed Panlilio of Pampanga

2007-11-17T11:00:00.000+08:00

A letter written by youth leader Harvey Keh. Get clicking if you care. =)

Dear Fellow Filipinos,

Good day to you!

Last October 13 , Governor Ed Panlilio of Pampanga came out to declare that
he was given P 500,000.00 in cash which came from a Palace Staff Member in
MalacaÃ±ang. The money was allegedly given for baranggay projects and to
support candidates for the upcoming baranggay elections. Since Gov.
Panlilio's admission, there have been other local officials and
congressmen who have admitted to receiving money from Malacañang as well. Up
until today we still don't know where this money really came from.

But since then, Gov. Panlilio has been under fire because of doing the right
thing. Right now, local officials in Pampanga led by Vice-Gov. Yeng
Guiao are ganging up on him and marginalizing him by not respecting his
authority as governor. Media Publications in Pampanga are even being used to
destroy his credibility. If one looks at Gov. Panlilio's performance thus
far in the less than 6 months that he has been in office, the results would
speak for itself. He was able to raise the same amount of quarry taxes in
less than 2 months compared to the former governor who raised the same
amount in 1 year. Due to this, mayors and board members are now demanding
part of this collection money and are blackmailing Gov. Panlilio by
not passing important policies that will benefit the constituencies of
Pampanga.

Isn't this a familiar refrain in our country? Someone does good and yet he
is often punished for doing what is right? And worse, while this is
happening many of us just turn a blind eye without doing anything. We s just
shrug it off and move on with our lives. It is no wonder why majority of our
government leaders are becoming bolder and bolder in becoming corrupt since
for them no one would dare complaint about it. In short, we deserve the
kind of leaders that we have because we continue to do nothing despite the
fact that we see that there is something wrong. And this is why I am writing
to appeal to you right now, I'd like to ask for a few minutes of your time
to send an email of support to Gov. Ed Panlilio, let us all tell him that we
are behind him in his quest for the Truth. What is at stake here is not only
the people of Pampanga but the nation as a whole. Gov. Ed exposed what has
long been happening in Malacañang and now he is being punished for it. Will
you do something about it?

*If yes, then please send an email of support to Gov. Ed Panlilio at
wesupportgovpanlilio@gmail.com and please help us by forwarding this
email to all your friends. We will print the emails that you send and give
it to Gov. Panlilio to show him that he is not alone in his quest for the
Truth. Let us show the world that the Filipino people will not just allow
another Good Man to fail and let evil prevail.*

Thank you for your time! May you have a pleasant day!

Sincerely,

*Harvey S. Keh*
Director for Youth Leadership and Social Entrepreneurship
Ateneo de Manila University-School of Government

On bulky dSLR cameras and my boyfriend's street smarts

2007-11-10T18:07:00.000+08:00

And once again, the dSLR camera's power to put people in "camwhore mode" was proven last night. During a work-related evening event where I had to take photos of everyone who's anyone, people gamely posed for photos. I didn't even have to tell them who I was or which office I'm from. My dSLR camera is my pass. All I had to do was approach people, smile uncomfortably for interrupting their conversation, point to my camera, and then they'd smile and pose. Wow. Why didn't I realize this before? My editor has been right all along: a dSLR commands respect. How many times have I been literally elbowed out from my carefully chosen spot by some ass-faced male photographer? Too many too mention. In my mind, all I wanted was a light-weight, easy to maneuver, and conspicuous camera. I saw no sense in carrying something bulky when a point-and-shoot does the job quite well. But now I have to admit that I was wrong. Intimidation matters. And a dSLR is my weapon of choice.

Father N., one of my favorite Jesuit priests ever to roam the earth, actually approached me to ask if I have taken enough pictures. I said yes. He gave me a soft path on the shoulder and a grandfatherly smile that made me take more pictures even if I knew I had taken a lot already. I was starstruck! I wanted to make my hero happy. His life is, after all, my new blueprint for my own: an active intellectual life, a deep interior (spiritual life), and a strong desire for service. What's not to copy? I have a soft spot for smart people.

One of whom is my boyfriend. My boyfriend may not have book smarts like Father N., but he has a lot of street smarts. And he's really thoughtful and caring and sweet. Even if he saw my ugly childhood pictures. He says the right things and calms me down when I worry. I believe we complement each other quite well. God is good.

On crappy work clothes

2007-11-09T08:57:00.000+08:00

I'll never wear crappy work clothes again because I'll never know when my boss will decide to take me along her meetings and functions. It is thus best to be prepared. Last Wednesday, for example, I thought I'd just be adding finishing touches to my research, among other desk jobs. But then my boss decided I should tag along with her and my editor's PR-related trip to a major broadsheet to take pictures. So I did.

I brought our dSLR camera, which I rarely use in favor of a compact and easy-to-control point-and-shoot. But our trusty point-and-shoot is inexplicably broken (I have yet to find out why, but I have my suspect in the person of...secret!), so I had no choice but to bring that bulky dSLR. Which wasn't so bad, I later realized. Aside from better imaging and a wider range of shooting options, that bulky dSLR commanded respect. In fact, it commanded so much respect that people effortlessly put their bodies and faces at the best possible angle without me telling them to do so. WIth that bulky dSLR, people were actually willing to pose for pictures. Wow. I should use that magic camera more often.

So anyway, I was thankful that I wore something decent to work that day. Well, not just something decent. More precisely, I wore a cross between preppy and artsy (collared tee for preppy and my favorite red pants for artsy), which set me in the mood to take pictures.

I remember when I was in college and I took great pains in expressing my mood through my clothes. That was also the time when I was in my creative peak, I think. But since I joined the work force, I began to compromise creativity with acceptance by way of conservative clothes. I should really re-think my choices.

Of course there's that little voice inside of me that tells me that people will tease me about my real wardrobe preferences. They wouldn't want me to stand out. But there's also that louder voice that tells me not to mind it. That these are the people who have no imagination whatsoever. And that they could gladly go to hell without me.

I love my chicken

2007-11-03T08:21:00.000+08:00

Yesterday my mom and my grandmother decided that it was time to eat our two "pet" chickens. I consider them "pets" because for months, my grandmother fed it and my sister made fun of it on a regular basis (ie, doing the "chicken dance" in front of the chickens). When they lay eggs, it's like some sort of a celebration of a baby's birth. But the most serious indication that they were "pets" was that we never thought of them as food. I thought that they were gonna be living and breathing chickens forever.

We had chicken adobo for lunch yesterday. While I was picking my favorite part (thigh part), I was wondering why the chicken seemed smaller than usual. "Bakit ganito 'to?" I asked my mom as I was putting a piece in my mouth. "Yan na yung manok natin," she answered matter-of-factly. Brief pause. Then a nervous gulp. Did I just eat our chicken? Seems like it.

My mother laughed.

I got a piece of fish from the other plate. Thank God for fish. I love fish. And yesterday, I loved fish even more. Thank God for fish, indeed!

My mother ended up giving the chicken adobo to the cleaning lady before she went home.

Schadenfreude! (People taking pleasure in your pain)

2007-10-29T17:40:00.001+08:00

I didn’t know that such a word existed until I saw the play “Avenue Q” at the RCBC Theater a few weeks ago. According to the character Gary Coleman, schadenfreude is a German word meaning “happiness at the misfortune of others.” I find it awesome how one word can encapsulate such a horrid feeling, especially since I have come to equate the word with the ugly side of female relationships.

Whether girls admit it or not, the friendship is at times tainted by competition—competition on who’s prettier, who’s smarter, who’s more successful, who’s more desired by men, and all these kinds of things. And so if they feel themselves to be on the losing end, they find ways to make themselves feel better.

Got sunburned from that trip to that beautiful white sand beach up north? They point out with a smile, an undeniably satisfied one, how close the shade of your skin now looks next to their own brown skin. Regained your fair skin back after a few months? They say you’ll make a good Frosty the Snowman for Christmas.

Made a serious booboo at work? They say “Smart but lazy, unlike a hardworking non-Atenean (or non-La Sallian, or non-UP student, or non-Tomasian, as the case may be) like me.”

Gained a little weight from your last job? They say, “I may not be as pretty, but hell, I’m not a fattie.” Finally lost those extra pounds? A trip to the ice cream place every week (with a matching "once-a-week-won't hurt" argument) should bring you back to ugly eating habits in no time--hooray for them!

Got rejected from your grad school application? Expect a sigh of relief that at least you’re both still in the same ho-hum level of scholastic achievement.

Do you more or less see now how I have come to equate schadenfreude with the ugly side of female relationships?

More on the female mind:

Imagine yourself to be a mildly beautiful girl. I put emphasis on the word mildly. Note that in your imagination, you should be not too pretty and not too ugly either. Imagine fair skin with slightly sunburned patches on the arms and feet (unflattering remnants of summer), average height (5’1, maybe), sometimes frizzy hair, a few badly located moles here and there on your face (which you hate, but have learned to live with, anyway), and fat legs. Your body is not much, but for the purposes of living, you figure it does the job quite nicely.

Imagine that God gifted you with book smarts on the day you were born, too. And because of this, you can carry decent conversations on topics ranging from pop culture, food, travel, investing, politics and everything else in between. Not a bad overall package, huh?

Except that “not-bad” is not enough. Perfection is the goal. So when you look at the mirror, you only see the flaws: the inches you could lose on your waist if you just stick to your bread-banana-and-water diet, the potential for prestige should you manage to snag that much-coveted grad school scholarship, the face that begs to be painted every morning before you show yourself to the world (otherwise, you are just one pale blob of flesh, walking).

And you hate how the people around you make it harder for you by constantly comparing themselves to you (Who’s prettier? Who’s smarter? Who has the better clothes, the better shoes, the better bag? Who will get the boys? Who will impress the boss?). It’s bad enough that you have this unnerving battle with yourself. And it’s an ordeal enough to force your self to choose the rose-colored glasses instead of the deep, dark pair of shades day after day. You don’t need the harshness of envy on the outside to further aggravate the inside. Because frankly, you couldn’t care less. Battling the insecurity of your inner self is more than you can handle.

Quotes (Zing!)

2007-10-23T16:16:00.000+08:00

I seem to like taking directions from priests, Jesuit priests in particular. While doing research for work, I chanced upon the following quotes, which struck me the way calamansi on soy sauce would. (Zing!)

A probable message from above:

"True love is neither exclusively physical nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be."
-Fr. Vic Salanga, SJ

A probable reason why I like the simple life, and why America doesn't have any power over me:

"Let others struggle for the good things in life; let others enjoy them. As for me, I have decided to spend my days unknown in some obscure corner to sacrifice my wretched life for the salvation of souls."
-Fr. Roberto de Nobili, SJ

In Yo Fusion Cuisine

2007-10-16T09:12:00.001+08:00

Christine, my food trip buddy and shoe consultant, let's eat here!!!!

Here's another site, with pictures!

Please!!! =)

i carry your heart with me

2007-10-10T09:21:00.000+08:00

I remembered this poem this morning. Some kind of pleasant surprise, it is. Who knew it will have a very specific and vivid meaning for me?

Anyway:

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
ee cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Sayang ang outfit!

2007-10-03T16:38:00.000+08:00

I know it's really vain and shallow of me but I really want it to rain before I go home. See, I wore a white turtleneck to work today because I thought it was gonna rain like yesterday. But all I got today was soft sunshine warming my skin while my officemate and I were walking to the cafeteria for lunch. I felt out of place. Parang wala yata akong karapatang mabuhay sa mundo ngayong araw na 'to kasi mainit sa labas at naka-turtleneck ako. Kumusta naman diyan? People are drowning in the floods and here I am, whining about wearing the wrong outfit and praying for rain.

On a brighter note (Is there a pun somewhere here?), it's cloudy outside, there are 16 minutes to go before I take off from work, and I have a big umbrella with me. It seems like my turtleneck was not worn in vain after all.

But wait. I just remembered that I am using my new orange bag which I bought from Davao. It's a cloth tote with a lovely ethnic print on it. So, gosh, it CAN'T rain today. My new bag will get wet! Ugh. Dilemma, dilemma.

Kumusta naman diyan?

My birthday kiss for my 26th birthday

2007-09-21T15:50:00.000+08:00

My objection about my turning 26 years old is that I haven't done even half of what I intended to do with my life. That, and the feeling of an impending failure.

At dinner last night, my brother pointed out that I am nearing 27, which is supposedly the "optimum age" (the term he used) for having a baby. Women who give birth at 27, he said, produce the smartest babies. He said scientific studies support this.

I had a feeling that it might be another sick joke of his again, because my mom gave birth to him at around 27, and he considers himself the smartest of us all. So hahaha. =)

But it might be true, though. He's really smart.

My sister gave me one of the best birthday gifts ever: a long birthday letter wherein she told me (almost) everything that will explain her oddball behavior. To wit:

I wanna say thanks for being a "good" role model to me. Thanks for all your love, especially the warm hugs and saliva-filled kisses. I may not be the best sister in the world but I AM SPECIAL! I'm sorry if I greet you with punches of love and punches that are full of appreciation EVERY DAY OF YOUR LIFE. Anyway, that's how I express my love for my sister, you.

Aba! Carino brutal! At ito pa, an underhanded insult:

I can't stop you if you have "the stuff" (feelings, HD = hidden desire, hots) for this weird guy. Maybe your time has come, seriously. [EDIT, EDIT] Actually, you've been much happier, nicer, and bubblier since you met this guy. I've never seen this "guy" (if he really is a guy) so I really can't judge him. [EDIT, EDIT] Trust me, I've been expecting these things that could happen to you.

Be that as it may, I still love my sister. But I also can't shake off the feeling that I should have someone (I won't tell you who) when my next birthday rolls around.

Riding in cars with complete strangers

2007-09-07T21:37:00.001+08:00

A FX bumped into our car last Thursday morning. The FX driver tried to swerve to the other lane, where we were. I’m guessing he was about to drop off a passenger. Fast. Everybody’s in a rush in the morning.

So the FX hit the left side passenger door (where I was sitting--God, is that you?) of our car. No serious damage done there, though. Just few nasty scratches and a couple of not-too-deep dents.

My dad was driving. I’m guessing he was torn between knocking the guy’s lights off and making sure my sis and bro got to school on time. Knowing our father’s temper, we wanted to check if he would indeed hit the reckless FX driver, and if the FX driver would fight back. I was about to tell my brother to get out of the car and stop our dad from doing something barbaric. Well, he didn’t, thank God. He calmly told us to get a cab and bring our sis to school.

Two MMDA officers approached us. Between a private car owner and the driver of a mode of public transportation like a FX, a government employee like a MMDA officer would almost always take the side of the private car owner. Maybe it’s the being-strong-to-the-weak-and-being–weak-to-the-strong mentality of third world people. At any rate, the way the MMDA officers seemed to side with my dad was a dead giveaway that everything will be fine.

I’m guessing the three of us (me, my sis, my bro) wanted to stay and see the possible spectacle it would make. Already, pedestrians were beginning to gather around our car and the FX. The FX passengers already got out to ride another jeepney or bus.

So we waited for a cab. My brother flagged one down, the three of us got inside, and promptly told the driver our route (my sister’s school, then my brother’s, and finally my place of work). The cab driver refused to take us, which was stupid, since he’d be making a lot of money from us. I guess he lacked foresight, since he only took into consideration my sister’s destination (which was only about five minutes away from where we flagged the cab), and neglected the two other destinations (me and my brother’s) which would add up to his take-home pay for the day.

At any rate, I told my bro (who began to argue with the driver) and my sis (who sat inside the cab, clueless) to bolt. I figured it was useless to reason with a stupid person.

So we were waiting for a cab again when a car stopped in front of us. The driver rolled his window down and asked if we were going to (insert name of my sister’s school here). He said he could take us. My brother did most of the talking. But when it dawned on me that he was about to leave my sister in the hands of a complete stranger (he said only my sister was going to the school the driver was also going to, and that me and him are going elsewhere), I intervened. Why my brother decided it was okay to let a stanger take my sister to school is beyond me. He’s a genius, but sometimes the way his mind works is just too weird for me. I told my brother (with a nearly hysterical voice, of course) that we can’t just leave our sis alone. I said I’ll go with her. And that he should, too.

He told me I could go with my sis, but that he has to go to his own school pronto. I said I’m not good with directions, which means he shouldn’t leave us. He said okay.

So my sis and I got in. We were waiting for him to get inside when the car sped away. Oops. It seemed it was our day to die.

My fear was somewhat calmed when I noticed a girl wearing the same school uniform as my sister’s. So THAT was probably the reason why my bro was so confident about leaving my sis alone in this car. But still, you can never tell who maniacs and non-maniacs are. I held my sister’s hand and hoped for the best from God.

“Hindi kayo pinasakay ng taxi noh?” the man asked. I said yes. Then he explained that taxis don’t usually go to that school since the distance is so short. So little money can be made from it. And that if ever a taxi driver agree to take in a passenger there, he will most probably charge an exorbitant amount. He advised us to take a trike to school next time.

“Coding kayo?” he asked. I said no, our car got hit by a reckless FX driver.
Then he asked where we live. I said we live somewhere in Fairview, which was somewhat true but not exactly true. Why would I want to give my exact address anyway?

It turns out he lives in Fairview. He mentioned a few names--his neighbors—-and asked if my sis and I knew them. Uh-oh. Busted. I kept quiet.

Then he went on to speak about how safe the school is and how parents and service operators will gladly take people there as long as they’re wearing the school uniform. Okaaaaay then.

So my sis got to school safely and I got to my own destination unscathed. The man turned out to be a sane person after all. I figured I should do the same when I see a girl wearing something like my sister’s uniform. You know, just to give back.

***

Another "anonymous" person answered my johari window. This time, the person didn't bother to write the whole word, just "a". Why, oh, why?

And sometimes, your stupidity comes back to slap you silly

2007-09-02T10:21:00.000+08:00

J. is writing an article about kids who smoke for a mommy magazine, the point of which is to give parents tips on how to handle the whole thing with their kids. She has already interviewed experts, i.e., psychologists. And I bet she has done her research, too. What was lacking, though, was an anecdote that will breathe life to her article.

And that's where she figured I would be useful for. Since she knows me long enough to know that I've done some experimenting somewhere along that line, she figured I'd be a fit subject for interview. To which I said yes, since my real name wouldn't see print, anyway. And also because she's my friend and she has helped me with other things before. It would be nice to return the favor.

I emailed her my answers to her questions last night. At first she wanted it by phone. But I was at the office and I didn't want my bosses to hear it.

My selective memory (I seem to choose to remember only good memories) made answering the questions a bit of an ordeal. I had to dig deep into my brain to remember things. At some point, I couldn't exactly remember why I made certain decisions in the past. There was also a feeling of shame that came with remembering. My record isn't as clean as I thought it was, after all. Damn. =)

The important thing, I guess, is that I've been there, done that and that I know better now. And that it is, years later, of some use to parents dealing with rebellious teenage sons and daughters. Who knew?

Some sort of soundtrack

2007-08-24T13:04:00.000+08:00

I'm trying to build some sort of soundtrack that will define this part of my life. I don't know what to call it yet and I have yet to find all the songs that I feel should be in it. But so far, I have these. In no particular order:

1. Young Folks (Peter, Bjorn & John)

2. Sundo (Imago)

3. Make Damn Sure (Taking Back Sunday)

4. First Time (Lifehouse)

5. Built to Last (Melee)

...and THIS:

Thinking of you (Test your reflex)

I'd like to be, in a room just you and me
We'll talk our eyes to sleep
And when it's over and we part, you'll remain inside my heart
You see I can't forget your face, your face, your face

No.. No, oh, oh

C'mon, my love, it's you I'm thinking of
Each time, we kiss, your hand upon my fingertips and
It's not, that bad, just don't forget what we have
And time, won't mean a thing, cause I'll be thinking of you love

It's been three months and now you're running circles,
Deep inside my head
When I thought all the love inside of me was dead
So don't think twice my love, oh no, about how much you mean to me
I'll say it one more time, so loud, so clear
You are the only one, the only one that's ever really listened to me
You are the only one, the only one that's ever really mattered to me
So don't you go (Don't you go)

C'mon, my love, it's you I'm thinking of
Each time, we kiss, your hand upon my fingertips and
It's not, that bad, just don't forget what we have
And time, won't mean a thing, cause I'll be thinking of you

Come now don't worry about the things you'll do next week
For just this once we can pretend, it's you and me
And everything the falls between the lines won't mean a thing
So take my hand, we'll run away
From everything, from everything, from everything from everything

C'mon, my love, it's you I'm thinking of
Each time, we kiss, your hand upon my fingertips and
It's not, that bad, just don't forget what we have
And time, won't mean a thing, cause I'll be thinking of you love

Anonymous! Anonymous!

2007-08-21T12:27:00.000+08:00

Sino yung dalawang "Anonymous" sa Johari Window ko?!

Tourism: a quiet invasion?

2007-08-11T11:07:00.000+08:00

A famous Filipina writer said in her book launch yesterday that the Philippines is a “disappearing country” and that tourism is the main culprit. She said that tourism is an invitation for foreigners to invade. North part of Luzon is for the Taiwanese while multinational companies stake their claim on parts of Mindanao, for example.

This made me re-think my long-term career goal, which is along that line. Given that new insight, I think I have to refine my plans. I thought of Paris and how it is the world’s number one tourist destination, and yet, the culture and identity of its people are still intact. Stronger than ever, even.

Think, Mitzie, think.

There is hope.

***

Oh, yeah, please visit my Johari Window. Thanks!

Song for the week

2007-08-06T11:10:00.000+08:00

"I still remember" - Bloc Party

I suppose my nightmare has begun

2007-08-04T21:34:00.000+08:00

Pesky little sisters and privacy issues have a nasty way of colliding. I suppose my nightmare has begun. AGAIN. It was about four years ago the first time this happened. And because it was the first time, I didn't know how to handle it. So now I suppose I should know what to do. Ergo, it is time to guard my phone, my email, my YM, my web pages, and everything else that might give her a clue. Bring it on!

***

I'm trying my hand at editing someone's thesis. I suppose this should give me a clue on what goes on in making research papers. I will, after all, be doing something like this in the future when I finally work on my Masters degree. I just hope I won't ruin someone's thesis along the way...

It's an interesting topic. This paper I'm editing talks about the relation of women workers' identity with their participation in labor activism. I suppose I'm interested mainly because I've been reading about Women's Studies since my freshman year in college.

***

It is important to me that I continue learning even when I reach old age. I don't know why. Maybe it makes me happy.

When things pan out at work, I'll finally be able to enroll in Ateneo (or U.P.?) next year. So I'm crossing my fingers.

But I'm actually more hopeful about something else. It's grander than Ateneo, but I'd rather keep it to myself for now.

***

I should really get back to practicing Nihongo. I haven't touched my language books for weeks because of a multitude of distractions: writing deadlines, good books, TV, meeting up with friends, and so on and so forth. Discipline, Mitzie, discipline.

Use it wisely

2007-07-29T10:26:00.000+08:00

I'm rolling in piles of money again. Sort of. I picked up my checks from the magazine, all of which I haven't picked up since early this year, so it's a sizable amount. The publisher must have seen the gleam in my eyes when I got hold of it all. "Spend it wisely," he said in that decidedly fatherly way. I just smiled. He has no idea how O.C. I can be with my money. Part of it will go to my travel fund, part of it I will invest. Delayed gratification. I know all about it. Of course.

***

Oh, and I've got a new toy!

This time, I chose a 3G-capable phone so I can surf stuff online and all those kinds of things. It has a 2-megapixel camera so I can take decent shots even when I forget to bring my beloved digicam along. And most importantly, I trust that my new phone will have a dependable battery life. That's primarily the reason why I bought a new one. My phone keeps dying on me when I need the most.

The last straw was when it died on me while I was calling Christine to ask where exactly in Glorietta she is. We were on our way to our ikebana class. I panicked, of course. The battery was fully charged and yet it just DIED. Good thing there was a station in the mall where I could charge my phone. So there. No more worries!

***

The guy at the second-hand bookshop in front of Ateneo said Japanese writer Kobo Abe is way better Haruki Murakami. "Pa-tweetums si Murakami eh," he said. After which he encouraged Ria and me to try reading Abe. So I did. Last Saturday, I borrowed "Woman in the Dunes" at the library. I'm more than halfway through the book and I gotta say that the book is interesting, but I still like Murakami more.

I also saw some plays by Abe at the library. So he's a playwright, too, I guess. I'll try reading those, too. Maybe I'll like those. Who knows?

High, Low

2007-07-20T14:04:00.000+08:00

High: My brother is bugging me to buy him "The Count of Monte Cristo," a double delight for me since a) This means he enjoys reading books, and b) He asked ME to buy it and not anyone else.

Low: This might mean I'm a pushover because he never asks anything from my other brother, who has a lot more spending power.

High: I discovered an eye cream that softens and evens out the skin around my eye area. And it's only 99.75 pesos!

Low: I discovered it AFTER buying an eye cream that set me back by 995 pesos. And it doesn't even work as good as the cheaper one!

High: I think kokeshi dolls are cute. Therefore, I want to look like one.

Low: Annette's Japanese friend said that the origin of kokeshi dolls is that poor rural farmers in old Japan used to kill their babies because they can't feed them anymore. But still, they kept on wondering how their child might look like if it were alive. So they made kokeshi dolls in memory of the dead baby. Moreover, she said that kokeshi in Japanese actually means "eliminate child." She said many Japanese don't know this origin though. I wonder how true this is...

High: It's my friend Christine's 27th birthday today! Have 27 birdies on your 27th birthday, Christine!

Low: Nasaan ang libre?! =)

Where my money went

2007-07-13T13:49:00.000+08:00

I was kinda wondering where my money went. And when I reviewed my week thus far, I realized it went places.

Monday and Tuesday was fine. I didn’t buy much. But come Wednesday, the insatiable spending started.

First, there was that lunch in Xocolat with Ria and Lorraine. As the name implies, the restaurant specializes in (drool, drool) chocolate. Too bad we didn’t get to the good part though, which is dessert, because we were too full by the time dessert rolled around. But we’ll come back there again (with a vengeance!) because the chocolate cakes looked so damn good…

Then I went to Japan Home Store on my way home to check on their new stuff. The branch near our house had those magnetic feather dusters in two different sizes, so I brought those two: the small one for cleaning my office desk, the big one for cleaning my room at home. I also brought a new bath brush, cuz you know me, I can’t stand feeling unclean.

I wanted to buy more: brooms, tea, tea pots, crackers, coffee, candies, you know, vital stuff. But the guys manning the store kept on following me around, which made me extremely uncomfortable. Later on, as Ria and I were talking about it (she frequents the branch near her house), she said that maybe it’s because we take a long time holding the stuff, examining it, and (gasp!) reading it. Which may make us look a bit suspicious to the store staff. Not all Filipinos can read Japanese, after all. And we two are part of the precious few who can. Which they don’t really know so they think we’re out to steal their stuff. Oh well.

After, I went to the cosmetics shop to buy eye cream. Raccoon eyes, be gone!

Thursday saw the piece de resistance of my purchases: a lovely bamboo pendant featuring an equally lovely geisha. Credit goes to Ria, who saw these pretties in this site. Being the first customer didn’t hurt too, as Ria got a nice discount for both of us. Mine’s the one named “geisha with little bird”. Ria beat me to the one named “geisha with purple ribbon,” which I think is prettier. Oh well. Both are marked “SOLD” now, as you can see. Hihihi.

And today, Friday, makes me quite a happy girl. =)

A song for me

2007-07-12T12:35:00.000+08:00

An image I can't shake off my head

2007-07-10T13:52:00.000+08:00

I've been thinking about the girl I saw a few weeks ago, walking with what looked like an American man. The girl must be in her teens, fourteen years old or so. She wore a faded pair of shorts with little flower designs and an equally faded t-shirt. Her hair was on the wavy side and her skin, dusky. She wasn't beautiful nor ugly. But she looked so innocent and young that anybody can take advantage of her.

The guy must have been in his 40s. Tall. White. Balding. He walked with the girl in the manner of a lover. He held her hand. He kept on smiling at her. At one point, he lifted the girl's hand to his lips and kissed it. The girl just smiled excitedly, like she knew what she was getting into.

I passed them by, thinking, "No, it's not right."

But I passed them by anyway.

This happened a stone's throw away from the gate of our subdivision. Who knew ugly things happened outside the confines of our peaceful dwelling place?

Again

2007-07-05T13:54:00.000+08:00

If I'm not here, I'm probably here.

Sa pagwawakas ng Flordeluna

2007-06-23T09:59:00.000+08:00

Nyek, namatay siya. Syempre akala ko happy ending kasi ganun naman palagi diba? Medyo happy ending naman. Nagbagong buhay si Brigida at Gary. Nagkapatawaran lahat. Sa pamamagitan ng dream sequence. In short, nag-multo si Flor.

Pero in fairness, napakaganda ng legacy ni Flor. Napakabata pa niya pero ang dami niyang natulungang magbago. Pag-ibig niya talaga ang siyang pag-asa. Astig.

Dapat napanood din ito ni Presidente GMA eh para maintindihan niya kung anong ibig sabihin ng legacy. Ang legacy, hindi minamadali sa loob ng tatlong taon. Araw-araw binubuo ito mula sa pinakamaliliit patungo sa pinakamalalaking bagay.

Pakipanood nga:

Late tuber

2007-06-21T12:17:00.000+08:00

Call me corny, but I've only recently discovered the wonders of Youtube, and I'm not afraid to admit it.

These say how I'm feeling now. Sort of.

El Nido Photos, finally

2007-06-14T08:30:00.000+08:00

Photos taken during my assignment to
El Nido, Palawan for a travel magazine. I wasn't the photographer, but I took pictures, anyway. In the future, I'd like to be both writer AND photographer. But I've got a long way to go...

Tagged by Ria-san: Weird things about me

2007-06-08T10:22:00.000+08:00

Note: Grabe, listing these things down was so damn hard! Coz I'm as normal as normal could get, you know.

1. While I like my food to be sanitarily prepared and my kitchen implements sparkling clean, my neat-freakiness, unfortunately, is only strong in that area. I once blurted out to Nikko and Jen, college buddies, that I want to become editor of Good Housekeeping someday. And they burst out laughing. We already hung out in my room weeks before. They saw it. And it wasn’t so good. But (and I mean BUT), that was back in college. Now, I make an effort to make my room and the whole house clean. That’s what Pledge, my trusty cleaning cloth and my favorite R2D2 look-alike vacuum cleaner are for.

2. I like to try different variations as to what I put in my mouth during meals: ulam with rice, ulam with condiments and rice, ulam only, ulam with vegetable, ulam with vegetable and rice, ulam with rice and soup, soup only, salad with ulam, salad only, dessert first before ulam, ulam before deseert…you get the picture.

3. I go nuts when I spend too much time with one person. I have to have variety in the sense that I have to talk to different people at different times of the day. And then there comes the time of day when I want to be alone. Any person who wishes to stick with me like a damn appendage is welcome…but at his or her own risk.

4. I think Jesuits make ideal partners. They’re intelligent, athletic, confident, cultured, and of course, God-fearing. A bonus: a good number are good-looking, too! Except that they don’t—and are not allowed to—like girls in the way a man should like girls. (Work in Ateneo and you’ll see what I mean.)

5. Corollary to number 4, I think Jesuits should start recruiting ugly novices. You know, for "safety".

6. I think my mother’s trying to sell me to a 28-year old Thai-Pakistani-American whom she swears is “guwapo at mukhang Pilipino.”

7. I like my pancakes gooey and half-cooked.

Tagging: Leia-san, Jemima-san, Christine-san, Jenny-san, James-san, Stefan-san.

Well put (or, Ayan, nai-inspire ako)

2007-06-06T16:26:00.000+08:00

"Be heroic leaders. Know your gifts and limitations so that you might know where your energies lie, that you might choose your direction. Get out of your comfort zones and be creative in how you can lead others. Love what you are doing; your passion and positive attitudes will influence your friends and peers. Energize yourself and aim high for your future, for our country's future."

--Ma. Assunta C. Cuyegkeng, vice president for the Loyola Schools, Ateneo de Manila University

Doting mother (sort of)

2007-06-02T11:32:00.001+08:00

I must really be getting older than my years. Yesterday was my sister's orientation in her new school. She's a high school freshman now. But she is, of course, still my baby in my eyes.

This must be how a mother feels when her baby slowly turns into a lady. I wondered if she'll be just fine being left alone in a new school where she barely knows anybody. I worried about her safety. The girl is a bit sheltered, you know. The type who goes in and out of places by private car, and who is therefore clueless about the life of a pedestrian. It also doesn't help that she's a big girl who walks like a six year old. Very innocent-looking. And very vulnerable.

At about 9:00 a.m., I texted her to ask how her orientation was. No reply. She texted me back at about 11, when the orientation was over. She said it was okay. She said some of her new schoolmates came from her old school. Whew.

I dream of something beyond this kind of life, though. I want to be a useful human being. I have so many plans for my country and the world. And sometimes, I feel restricted by, and resentful of, my domestic responsibilities. But when my sister is happy, I'm happy. I love my family. But I must follow my other dreams, too, right? Or is this how the Lord wants me to serve Him?

What I’m waiting to covet…

2007-05-29T12:52:00.001+08:00

Cleaning implements. I’ve been dreaming about those bright pink magnetic dusters and mini brooms the first time I saw them at Japan Home Store. They’re perfect for my purposes: cheap, compact, and portable (just Php88 each!). Paired with my trusty cleaning cloth and Pledge (must be the rain shower-scented one, smells nice), my dirt-fighting arsenal will be complete. Squee!

***

Okay. If this madness goes on, I’m as good as that girl in that late ‘90s teen flick who stays home on a Saturday night to clean her room…who turned out to be a closet lesbian. I need a life. Care to lend me yours?

Signs of love

2007-05-24T15:00:00.000+08:00

My sister does bad things to me, like treating the family to Jollibee when I'm not at home, refusing to make me a sandwich when she would readily make one for each of my brothers, and calling me fat and slow in front of everyone within earshot, including the woman who cleans our house, which diminishes somewhat my authority as household manager.

But despite the petty things she does to annoy me, I know she loves me because she turns to me when she needs something. We both know that among her older siblings (she's the youngest), I'm the one who'll buy stuff for her even if I myself am short on cash. During bedtime, she sleeps beside me and gives me hugs and kisses. At one time, while it was raining and the air was icy cold, I woke up wrapped in a blanket with her. Plus, I am proud to say that she has taken to my neat-freak ways. She wipes the kitchen clean, makes sure that the dining table is free of bread crumbs, and mops the floor everyday. And when I'm pissed off with people at work, she jokes around to make me laugh.

I'm not sure why she pretends she doesn't love me though, when clearly, she does. The important thing though, is that I know.

2007-05-21T13:12:00.001+08:00

SHAME ON ME

Last Thursday, Joy from the Center for Ignatian Spirituality (CIS) asked me through SMS if they could use part of the feedback I wrote at the Retreat in Daily Life (RDL) I attended last year for their brochure. (Run-on sentence?) So I asked her what I wrote, exactly. Obviously, I could not remember.

According to her, this was what I wrote (Verbatim, with grammatical errors, urgh!):

“My RDL experience has been beneficial for helping me discern what God wants me to do in my life. At this point, my life’s question is not anymore what I want to get from the world, but how much I’ve served the world.”

Gerdangit, I hope they edit that.

On a more serious note, I am not sure if the quote applies to me up to now. I have been selfishly preoccupied with waiting for some good news this May. And when I dream about it, I can see myself and myself only, and not myself and what I desire to do for the country, as was my original plan. Shame on me. I guess God wanted to remind me.

2007-05-15T10:16:00.000+08:00

I HATE JEEPNEYS

Jeepney drivers suck. Whenever I hail a FX in peace, rusty old jeepneys would come swooping in from out of nowhere, blocking my way. These jeepney drivers would motion for me to ride. I give them the evil eye. The FX driver, meanwhile, gives me a look that says, “Sorry, wala akong magagawa, bumalandra sila eh.” So I scream curses at every jeepney driver in sight as a concrete show of my frustration. Don’t these greedy drivers know that I would rather pay extra for a nice and safe air-conditioned vehicle (namely, the FX) than subject my lungs to loads of icky black smoke and my skin to icky black dust? Mga bastos. So if you see a short-haired female pedestrian dressed in an office-y wardrobe screaming like a madman, that’s probably me. Sorry, God.

2007-05-02T12:26:00.000+08:00

IT'S ABOUT REFINING THE VISION. SOMETIMES.

When I think about it now, I wince at how silly my goals were eight years ago. Four years after first joining the work force, I realized how there is more to life than having money for books and stuff. There are bills to pay, investments to think of, and a retirement fund to fill, to name a few. I had to learn to live. Like a real adult should.

Plus, there's the family situation. And my wavering quest for independence.

I should really make up my mind.

What I'm saying is, I realize now that I didn't have a firm grasp of what I wanted to be eight years ago. But now I do. And now that that's settled, I shouldn't whine about not being near that place where I envisioned myself to be in. It's not about following my original blueprint anymore. Rather, it's more about refining it, now that I know better.

If I get nowhere fast even after refining my vision, then that's the time to worry. Right now, it isn't.

Well, that's not entirely true. I'm waiting for that important call/ e-mail that will determine how the rest of my year will fare.

2007-04-24T09:21:00.000+08:00

I AM WHERE I ENVISIONED MYSELF TO BE. SORT OF.

I was walking to my office this morning when I realized that I may not be EXACTLY where I enivisioned myself to be when I was in high school, but I am ALMOST there. Sort of.

I wanted to be a journalist when I was in high school, see. In particular, I wanted to write for a magazine. I wanted a cool apartment of my own where me and my friends can hang out. And I wanted money for books and stuff. I didn't want much. Just those things, really.

So let's re-evaluate, shall we?

I write for a living, but I don't exactly write what I want to write most of the time. However, I do freelance work for magazines, writing travel and lifestyle articles, which I enjoy very much. In fact, I'll be going to El Nido tomorrow, so yey! Plus, I still write poems and creative non-fiction, even if I'm not too keen on showing my works to most people these days.

I still live with my parents (well, only one parent at a time, given the "circumstances"), but I learned to enjoy living with my siblings. Being a substitute mother/father isn't that bad.

And of course, I have money for books and stuff, despite my occasional brush with every young working girl's nightmare: the "poverty line". Not the real poverty line as defined by the government (i.e., living on $1 a day), but those times when you mistakenly dump your salary on one coveted item, neglecting the fact that you have to subsist on THAT pay (your parents won't rescue you in any way coz you're an adult now, anyway) for two weeks.

So there. My life's not so bad. Although things can be improved somehow.

Watashi wa ii ichi ni imasu. Yukai desu. Kimashou!

2007-04-14T10:49:00.000+08:00

HELLO, MOTHERHOOD!

So here’s good news. I have become the mother of an 18-year old incoming college sophomore and a 13-year old incoming high school freshman overnight.

Well, not really. Those two kids are my brother and my sister, respectively. My mother left this morning for the U.S., see, and the kids are, therefore, now under my care. Sort of.

So this is going to be a fun weekend. I’ll run a thorough checkup of the papers and stuff my mother left me (I didn’t lay a finger on them when she gave them to me, hoping they’ll magically go away); I’ll be formulating a comprehensive schedule of the household chores our “cleaning lady” should do for the week; I’ll be assigning a couple of chores to the kids; I’ll be fixing payment schedules; I’ll be making a grocery list and make sure there’s always food on the table; and the list goes on.

I believe this enterprise will be a make-or-break thing. If I find it fun, the prospect of motherhood will be a soft and unthreatening light looming nicely. If I find it difficult and demanding, I pray I won’t up and leave.

This also means there MIGHT be no grad school for me this year. I mean, seriously, do you think I can manage work, school, my interior life, and a cracked household without going insane?

2007-04-06T11:11:00.000+08:00

AND I NOW DIRECT YOU TO MY TRAVEL BLOG

Photos of my KL trip are posted here. I might write a long narrative when I feel like it. For now, photos should suffice. =)

2007-03-30T12:46:00.000+08:00

ONLINE QUIZ CRAZE

This site analyzes your complete name and tells you things about yourself. Quite accurate, I believe. See my results below:

There are 28 letters in your name.
Those 28 letters total to 130
There are 12 vowels and 16 consonants in your name.

What your first name means:

Hebrew	Female	Close to God. Feminine form of Michael: Who is like God? Gift from God.
French	Female	Feminine of Michael: gift from God.

Your number is: 4

The characteristics of #4 are: A foundation, order, service, struggle against limits, steady growth.

The expression or destiny for #4:
Order, service, and management are the cornerstones of the number 4 Expression. Your destiny is to express wonderful organization skills with your ever practical, down-to-earth approach. You are the kind of person who is always willing to work those long, hard hours to push a project through to completion. A patience with detail allows you to become expert in fields such as building, engineering, and all forms of craftsmanship. Your abilities to write and teach may lean toward the more technical and detailed. In the arts, music will likely be your choice. Artistic talents may also appear in such fields as horiculture and floral arrangement, as well. Many skilled physicians and especially surgeons have the 4 Expression.

The positive attitudes of the 4 Expression yield responsibility; you are one who no doubt, fulfills obligations, and is highly systematic and orderly. You are serious and sincere, honest and faithful. It is your role to help and you are required to do a good job at everything you undertake.

If there is too much 4 energies present in your makeup, you may express some of the negative attitudes of the number 4. The obligations that you face may tend to create frustration and feelings of limitation or restriction. You may sometimes find yourself nursing negative attitudes in this regard and these can keep you in a rather low mood. Avoid becoming too rigid, stubborn, dogmatic, and fixed in your opinions. You may have a tendency to develop and hold very strong likes and dislikes, and some of these may border on the classification of prejudice. The negative side of 4 often produces dominant and bossy individuals who use disciplinarian to an excess. These tendencies must be avoided. Finally, like nearly all with 4 Expression, you must keep your eye on the big picture and not get overly wrapped up in detail and routine.

Your Soul Urge number is: 5

A Soul Urge number of 5 means:
The 5 soul urge or motivation would like to follow a life of freedom, excitement, adventure and unexpected happening. The idea of travel and freedom to roam intrigues you. You are very much the adventurer at heart. Not particularly concerned about your future or about getting ahead, you can seem superficial and unmotivated.

In a positive sense, the energies of the number 5 make you very adaptable and versatile. You have a natural resourcefulness and enthusiasm that may mark you as a progressive with a good mind and active imagination. You seem to have a natural inclination to be a pace-setter. You are attracted to the unusual and the fast paced.

You may be overly restless and impatient at times. You may dislike the routine work that you are engaged in, and tend to jump from activity to activity, without ever finishing anything. You may have difficulty with responsibility. You don't want to be tied down to a relationship, and it may be hard to commit to one person.

Your Inner Dream number is: 8

An Inner Dream number of 8 means:
You dream of success in the business or political world, of power and control of large material endeavors. You crave authority and recognition of executive skills. Your secret self may have very strong desire to become an entrepreneur.

And then there's this teenybopper (teenypooper?) handwriting analysis thingie:

I took the " handwriting personality " quiz on gURL.com
		my handwriting style is... sensitive scripter Your handwriting reveals you as a thoughtful, intellectual type who avoids fake people and places where there's lots of noise and crowds. Read more... What does your handwriting say about you?

2007-03-22T12:45:00.000+08:00

SWINGING, SWINGING

I learned that people think I just punch in at 8 A.M. and punch out at 5 P.M. and that I'm happy with that. Hello! Why would I be happy with that? Are you nuts?! Of course I'm doing something with my life. Of course I have hopes and dreams. And of course, damn it, I'm ambitious and competitive. Duh.

Of course great things are happening in my little corner of the world. I just don't like blogging it.

My B-Buddy once told me I should learn to "advertise" these achievements. I know I should do that. If only to remind people I'm not a dormat. But I don't think it's that big a deal. I'm only as good as my last win. As aforementioned, no biggie.

I got my psychological test a few weeks ago. I'm a normal person, except that my level of anxiety reaches the extreme level. Ie, on a scale of 1 to 10, it's a 10. Don't ask me why coz I don't know why.

***

I'm done with my Nihongo class. Omedetou gozaimasu to me.

I learned, while watching NHK this morning, that the secret to practicing the Beginner's Level is to listen to news in Japanese. Newscasters use the polite style. And that's the style I know (for now, at least). So bingo! Banzai! Beh!

***

I had a dream last night. I hate sex although I haven't tried it yet. In my dream, it was so messy and dirty and so full of pee! (Not my pee, though, which makes it all the more yucky. Urgh!)

***

Some time last month, I consulted with a theology professor about single blessedness. She told me that I'm just 25, and that I should therefore relax and let life be. Okay.

2007-03-16T13:43:00.001+08:00

A POST TOO ANGRY TO BE CALLED ANYTHING

I have reason to think that when God said “Honor your father and your mother”, He referred to the loving, dedicated and selfless ones. Who else would He refer to? The forgetful ones? The ones who swear they love their children, and yet cannot let go of their skewed sense of pleasure to make things right? The stupidly selfish ones who’d rather spend their hard-earned money on fulfilling the whims of their mistresses and illegitimate children than investing on their REAL kids’ education? Damn you all! And don’t blame your real children when you grow old and the only final act of mercy they can give you is to send you to some place like Goldren Acres because they can’t bear to have you live with them and be taken care of under the same roof.

2007-03-13T15:52:00.000+08:00

HAVAIANAS IN THE HOUSE

There is no shame in admitting that one of your favorite pastimes is joining those no-brainer contests in Philippine Star. And there is no shame in sporting newly won flip-flops after being specially delivered to your house.

The contest name: Havaianas Hoedown.

I had to submit a short write-up on why I deserve to win a pair.

Easy as pie.

You have no idea how buttery-soft this footwear really is.

On an even brighter note, it is comforting to know that I'm not the only one with this kind of pastime. Ms Hilda from the office is "obsessed" with PS contests, too. In fact, she already won a Swatch watch last year.

Sali na!

2007-03-06T08:24:00.000+08:00

MY NEW BABY
I've been talking about getting a new camera since late last year, and here it is, finally! Casio Exilim Z-850, an 8-megapixel monster with manual controls and a large 2.5-inch LCD screen. And I got it at the reasonable price of *** courtesy of Ria's friend Albert who's in Japan (ang layo ng nilakbay ng camera na ito)!

Ii kamera desu ne! Issho ni Marehsia de shashin o torimasen ka? Yasumimashou! Mareshia e ikimashou!

Um, yun lang. =)

2007-03-02T13:19:00.000+08:00

EE, YASUMIMASHOU!

My sadness is caused by the fact that Chris Sligh, it turns out, is married. He dedicated a song called “Trouble” to his lovely wife last Wednesday. And the song, despite the seemingly negative impression it gives off, is actually about the opposite. “I was saved by a woman”, he sang.

But of course I’m kidding. Duh. The song made me very happy. =)

I just don’t feel like working today. I just wanna watch TV the whole day. But I’m at work. Sucks.

2007-02-28T13:26:00.000+08:00

NEEDS SCIENTIFIC EXPLANATION
Can someone tell me why I seem to get mild electrical shocks when I open the door at the office? This doesn't happen very often, but it's frequent enough to worry me. Plus, I seem to be the only one in the office who experiences this. And I noticed this happens when I'm in a hurry. Does this mean there's something wrong with me, or (gasp) I'm some kind of a mutant?

2007-02-22T13:01:00.000+08:00

CHRIS SLIGH ON AI
For those living under a rock, the curly-haired, teddy-like guy on the left is American Idol hopeful Chris Sligh. He is my bet for this year's season. He's not too aesthetically pleasing, I must admit, but, oh, how he cracks me up. And I think that's cute. =)

And oh, he sings decently, too.

2007-02-15T16:11:00.000+08:00

AND ANOTHER WALL IS BUILT

Today I have decided that I won’t share anymore whatever hopes and dreams I have. Hopes and dreams, being hopes and dreams, are insane and illogical. That’s the nature of it. To shake me silly back to reality…Well just leave me alone and let me be free to get in touch with the child in me.

***

So today is a bad day and I feel like wearing my curriculum vitae on my forehead just so people will stop doubting whether I could pull it off. I hate it, hate it, hate it. I am not the most positive person on earth and when people around me (especially those whom I trust) are more negative than I am, I am swayed to think that it might not be worth the effort after all.

I should get back to my calm center of things now.

THE HIGHLIGHTS OF MY WEEK WERE CRAMMED IN ONE TINY FRIDAY

2007-02-10T10:38:00.000+08:00

I bet God crammed the highlights of my week Friday yesterday.

One, I got the third highest score in class for our midterm Nihongo exam. I was soooo happy. Sumida-sensei announced it in class, and (I think) she had a special smile for me when she handed my test paper to me. But I would've even been happier if I landed second place; and would have been happiest if I landed first place.

And two, while on a restaurant review for a travel magazine, I learned that the owners are engaged in politics as well. And I had the juiciest tidbits and anecdotes about certain politicians and the people they interact with, especially for the coming May 2007 elections. But I 'd rather keep those things to myself.

So I'll be meeting Kat today for the travel expo in Megamall and to watch Apocalypto in Robinson's Galleria. Will my Saturday top my Friday? Don't fail me, Lord. =)

2007-02-06T13:11:00.000+08:00

TIFFANY

I have nothing much to tell you, except that I am absolutely intrigued by my 12-year old sister’s Korean classmate. See, when I come home from work and I ask my sister “How was school” she always has lots to say about the new girl in school named Tiffany.

Tiffany, for example, speaks only a little English, with a thick Korean accent to boot, which my sister and her “barkada” make fun of. Yesterday, my sister told me that Tiffany came up to them, affectionately propped her head on my sister’s shoulders, and said, “Ay weeeel ting tu yu.” After which she sang a Tagalog song by (gasp) Sampaguita! “Marunong na pala siya mag-Tagalog,” said my amused sister.

My sister thinks Tiffany is a bit loony. In the morning, during the flag ceremony when everybody sings the national anthem, Tiffany sways her arms, mimicking the rolling of sea waves, oblivious to the respect everyone else accords the Philippine flag. She must be thinking that it’s some kind of music to be danced to. And being a foreigner—and a kid, at that—it’s something she’s probably unaware of. But my sister says the teacher scolds her anyway. To which I say, shouldn’t the teacher explain it nicely to Tiffany, so she would understand why?

The language barrier is a source of amusement to the class, too. There are about three Koreans in my sister’s class, and the first is good in English, the second is good in Math, and then there’s Tiffany. During a class in English, for example, the teacher usually asks the girl who’s good in English to explain the lessons to Tiffany and to the girl who’s good in Math—in front of the whole class! As the three speak to each other in rapid Korean, the rest of the class—all Tagalog-speaking people— dart their heads back and forth like a tennis ball with delight. “Para kaming nanonood ng Koreanovela”, giggles my sister.

And then there’s the food, which interests me the greatest. Although my sister gets annoyed when Tiffany comes to her and makes eating signs (she pretends to pick something from the plate and brings the imaginary thing to her mouth), which means she wants a taste of whatever it is my sister’s eating, I’m intrigued by the contents of Tiffany’s lunch box. I once suggested to my sister to trade half of her food for half of Tiffany’s, so she’d know how real Korean food tastes like, but she said Tiffany’s food is yucky compared to her potato chips. Yesterday, she said, she watched Tiffany bring these black square things to her mouth with her chopsticks. I don’t think my sister likes black-colored food, but I’d like to convince her to try Tiffany’s food, so she can tell me how it tastes like. =)

I wish my sister would befriend her. Aside from authentic Korean food, I’d like to know what those Koreans are saying in the KBS channel I enjoy watching!

At lumabas rin ang hidden agenda ko. =)

2007-02-01T12:51:00.000+08:00

I SHOULD RESEARCH MORE ON SWEDES

A blog quiz I got from Jenny's blog. No, I wasn't hoping for the final result to stay "You should date a Japanese". I know better, thank you. =)

And I hope the foreign exchange student I saw yesterday is a Swede. He's drop-dead gorgeous, I tell you.

You Should Date A Swede!

You're a romantic, albeit an understated and practical one.
It's more about a steady partnership for you, not unrestrained falling
Your Swede will give you the unwavering love you crave
While making up some mean pancakes and meatballs on the side!

Which Foreign Guy Should You Date?

2007-01-21T21:01:00.000+08:00

TOO SCANDALOUS TO PASS UP

I believe I should tell you more about the photographer I was with during my travel assignment to Tagaytay last December. She’s one of a kind, I tell you. And these snippets about her are too scandalous to pass up.

Because I'm too much of a wimp to say her real name, she shall be known in this blog as “She who grew up in a naked house” (more on this later).

Finger-lickin’ good

I knew it was going to be a long day ahead when, during our bus ride to Tagaytay, she got some fries from her backpack and began to eat. Being a stickler for sanitation, I wanted to offer her some alcohol so she can cleanse her hands, but the motion was too quick that I could only watch the events unfold in horror: She tore open a packet of ketchup, drizzled it on her fries, popped a couple in her mouth, and licked her fingers clean.

Then, as if that weren’t enough, she began launch a litany of complaints about the magazine, which I didn’t mind because I like being a receptacle of really useless information. What I did mind, though, was the way she kept on touching my arm with her dirty hands for emphasis.

Good thing I had the decency to NOT reach for the humongous bottle of alcohol in my bag. Oh, but how I badly wanted to!

Spread eagle

I was right about it being a long day. It took her too long to take photos of the same scenery. Whenever I checked the LCD screen of her camera, everything looked the same to me: predictable, bland, boring. I said that because her angles and framing were the kind a beginner like me would think of, and I was expecting more since she’s a veteran. I began to worry about the photos that would accompany my article.

But that’s not the only thing that bothered me. When we went back to the hotel, she made a beeline for the bathroom, which I didn’t mind because I was too tired from waiting around for her, anyway.

When she got out, she only had the white hotel towel wrapped around her body. I was expecting her to be, well, decent, as in dressed in pajamas or something. Then she began rubbing her body with lotion, which was a cue for me to begin fixing my toiletries for my shower.

She was gabbing away while I politely listened and fixed my stuff. Naturally, there were times when my back was turned, and times when I faced her. It was one of those times when I faced her when I saw a black gnarly mass of something between her legs. I wondered what it was when my stupidity hit me: pubic hair! It was pubic hair, dammit! So embarrassing—but only for me! I could feel myself turning red in the face.

After which she instantaneously removed her towel, revealing brown skin and even browner nipples, and said, “Pasensya ka na ha. Babae naman tayo pareho eh. Meron ka rin naman nang mga meron ako.”

I hurried inside the bathroom to wash the image off my head.

I shared this with a friend who works for the magazine, and she just laughed saying something similar also happened to another writer.

The story goes that she just plopped her naked body in bed, spread eagle, every inch of her body on display. Which made the stunned writer blurt out, “Oh my God, did she grow up in a naked house?”

Randy dandy

As if that weren’t enough, the next day was even more a, uhm, revelation. “She who grew up in a naked house” felt comfy and close with me. In fact, she felt so comfy and close with me that I found myself listening to her sexual history. It was one of the times I really wanted to whack myself on the head for being too darn polite.

It turns out that she has a Brit boyfriend. His name’s Ashley (Yes, Ashley’s a he. What kind of parent names his or her son Ashley, anyway?). He’s 40+ years old and he’s some kind of a scientist or engineer or whatever.

According to “She who grew up in a naked house”, she met Ashley in an Internet chatroom years ago. He visits the Philippines twice a year to see her, but they don’t usually have sex. What they usually do when he’s here is they go around Malate and Rockwell, HHPSSP (holding hands pa-sway sway pa). When they run out of things to say to each other, they just smile and do nothing, like dumb chairs.

Ok, the dumb chairs part was my own wicked addition. Inggit lang ako. Especially when this Ashley guy actually called her on her cellphone that night to say a gazillion “I love you’s”. I didn’t know whether to get out of the room or to stay, but my butt wanted to torture me emotionally so I stayed.

But “She who grew up in a naked house’s” friends suspects Ashley is gay because of the fact that she can count the times they’ve had sex with her fingers, and because Ashley’s too prim and proper to fit the Pinoy’s understanding of “manly”.

I don’t know, of course. I haven’t met him. But my friend at the magazine does. I asked her how he looks like, and if he’s cute. “Matanda na siya,” she replied.

But prior to Ashley, “She who grew up in a naked house” has had a Canadian boyfriend whom she also met at a chatroom. This Canadian guy teaches English in Korea, where they got married last year. But she’s in the process of divorcing him because he wasn’t so nice after all. He didn’t want her to work as a photographer there and only wanted her locked up in their house. He treated her like a slave, according to her. And who wants that, anyway. So she packed her bags and left. But not without some insults from this Canadian husband, which included the words, “Bye, muchacha!”

Oh, but that’s not her first encounter with a foreigner pala. Before the Canadian guy, she also had an American boyfriend who (surprise, surprise!) she also met at a chatroom. This guy regularly sent money to her family (she and her kids—I don’t know what happened with the Pinoy who fathered her kids—she only talked about her foreign boyfriends. Colonial mentality, noh?), which enabled her to send her kids to school. I can’t remember if this American ex-boyfriend of hers died or if he just stopped writing. Oh, wait. I remember now. He just stopped writing. And she suspects it’s because of some kind of sickness. Anyway, she said that if this guy were to set foot in the Philippines again, she and her kids will take good care of the guy as a form of “utang na loob” for providing for their needs. Not bad.

Yun lang. Tapos na ang kwento. =)

2007-01-13T11:35:00.000+08:00

ONLINE TEST

2007-01-07T09:15:00.000+08:00

THROWN OFF TRACK

The photographer I was with during my trip to Tagaytay insisted that "Nicole" (not her real name), the girl who was raped by Smith, is really a prostitute in Zamboanga. She also insisted that once "Nicole's" face is shown on TV, people from the South will attest to this woman's promiscuity and "pokpok" character. She said even "Nicole's" family is really a money-hungry lot, and that this rape accusation is merely a money-making scheme.

Now I am thrown off track. I may need to step back, see everything from a different perspective, and re-examine my stand.

However, I do know that even prostitutes can be raped. And even if they are prostitutes, that doesn't mean that any guy can just unzip his pants and force himself on a girl. Prostitutes are still human beings, not animals.

***

I watched the replay of this debate show on ANC yesterday. The topic was about the P125 across the board wage increase, and whether the senate should pass the bill or not. A representative from Ateneo was on the affirmative side, while La Salle was on the negative. The judge was a professor from UP. However, only 40% of his decision was counted since the remaining 60% was up to text votes by TV viewers.

I'm not saying this because I'm Atenean, but if I were the judge (or the text voter), I would've favored the Atenean guy's answers. They made more sense. Of course a wage earner's right to a respectable and dignified life should be considered more than profits. He's right. A minimum wage earner's real income is far from the ideal income. And businesses should aspire for reasonable profits, not excessive ones that trample on workers' rights. Human dignity is so basic that it shouldn't be deemed less important that profits.

The girl from La Salle, meanwhile, argued that the wage increase will further lower the Philippines' competitiveness against neighboring Asian countries, and that the wage increase will result to a massive lay-off. She also argued that the wage increase should be up to the regional wage boards since the businesses in Manila may be able to afford it, but businesses in, say, Mindanao may not be able to.

I don't know what the judge and text voters were thinking for voting for that La Salle girl's arguments, but it was as if they were accepting inhumane labor treatment as the way to go for progress. China may have the lowest labor cost, which makes it attractive to investors, but it also treats its workers unjustly. Of course it is the unethical business which China attracts. Why are Filipinos so willing to let their fellow Filipinos be treated like animals? It is better to give the right wage and produce contented, productive workers than to encourage the destruction of human dignity.

I know it sounds idealistic and impractical, but what really is more practical than letting people realize their human worth? This should, ideally, be given more importance than profits.

I sometimes wonder what the best way is for determining if schools are doing their job right.

2006-12-31T01:55:00.000+08:00

THE FOOTWEAR BLOG POST

I bought my first "bakya" (wooden slip-ons?) in Tagaytay last Thursday during a spur-of-the-moment travel assignment for a magazine. Which means HK Disney isn't my last travel destination for 2006 after all, but that's not the point of this post.

The point is that my new "bakya" will satisfy my curiosity on how it feels like to walk with wood on my foot instead of a cushy pair of trainers, 2-inch heeled pumps, 1-inch heeled sandals, or a good old pair of flip-flops.

And speaking of flip-flops, the pair my brother (the one in college) gave me for Christmas is my favorite gift this season. It's a simple pair that's not too expensive, but I love it to bits. As trite as it sounds, it's the thought that counts.

See, my brother is the laziest shopper in the family, and he's probably one of the most oblivious creatures to the season's gift-buying and gift-giving frenzy (i.e., we're used to not getting anything from him for Christmas).

But this year, he managed to park his butt at Greenhills to buy something for everybody. Also, he managed to choose flip-flops I like, considering he's a guy! Brown beaded flip-flops--It's my most special pair ever.

2006-12-26T09:03:00.000+08:00

I LOVE YOU 2006!

I loved 2006, and I'll sorta miss it, I think. It was the year that...

1) I traveled extensively after living like a sad bird in a cage at that damned real estate company. I went to Batangas, Macau, and Cagayan North in the summer, Boracay and Palawan in the middle of the year, and Hong Kong Disneyland just this December.

2) I finally heard what God is calling me to do for the rest of my life. But I can't reveal much right now, sorry. But I will, soon. ;D

3) I found myself in the ideal work place. In my three years in the work force, it was the only workplace where everybody was nice (including the boss!), where spirituality is not shunned, where I was sent to study something I've been wanting to study for the longest time, where I experienced a real fun summer office outing, and where family and work-life balance is given a high premium!

4) I learned that I'm a crap photographer. But that was remedied by the photography class my boss made me take.

5) I met the nicest, cutest, loveliest Japanese language teacher ever.

6) I discovered that my school grades weren't as bad as I thought. Sometime this month, I had the unexplainable urge to have a look at my transcript, and lo and behold, I possess the right grades to make me qualify for the school I'm eyeing after all! (I forgot that I was in the Dean's List dammit!)

7) I grew spiritually with Myra, Sr. Edith, Christine, Ms Sonia and Stef's help.

8) And corollary to number 7, I fell in Love.

2006-12-21T07:58:00.000+08:00

THE GIFT TEST

Remember that Marshmallow Test thing? Well, I 'm doing a variation of it with this year's Christmas gifts. I haven't opened anything I've received from people yet. They're just under the Christmas tree, sitting prettily. I'm waiting for December 25 to strike before I unwrap everything like a maniac. I want to be surprised. I want to be happily surrounded with torn wrappers come Christmas morning. I want to delude myself into thinking a lot of people love me. I'm disciplined like that.

2006-12-20T08:25:00.000+08:00

AN OBVIOUS PR JOB

To the U.S. soldiers and U.S. ambassador who were seen in the news last night giving out toys and what-not to underprivileged kids here in the Philippines, who the @#*L are you kidding?! That's an obvious PR job designed to display a more "positive" image of the U.S., which will hopefully consequently induce pro-U.S. sentiments regarding the jailing of that wolf-in-sheep's clothing RAPIST Smith!

Hello! The fact that three out of four guilty American soldiers were acquitted and promptly shipped to Japan was a sad comprimise for the Philippines. Even if Smith was the only one proven to have raped Nicole, the three others are partners in crime! When I heard the news of the three's acquittal and Smith's impending jail time, what immediately occured to me was "Wow! The Supreme Court gave the Philippines temporary relief and happiness. But no justice. Because three have been acquitted, the U.S. has only one criminal to save now, which makes the job of saving that criminal easy, given their history of manipulation!" Which is what you're doing now, with the help of the media (whether intended or not) by spreading PR material disguised as news. You're taking advantage of clueless Filipinos who are pro-Smith just because he's cute!

You're too greedy and evil! You say the VFA was very misinterpreted. You say it's not lawful. Rape is rape. No matter from what angle you look at it, is is evil. That's called DIVINE LAW.

And don't get me started on Fr. James Reuter, SJ.

2006-12-12T08:22:00.000+08:00

I COULD CRY MY NIPPLES OFF (or maybe not)

Languages might be God's gift to me. I got a perfect score in my Nihongo test. And Sumida-sensei had a cute way of conveying it: She put a stamp of a teddy bear with an "I am the champion" belt wrapped around its fat tummy. Squee! Omedetai to me!

2006-12-07T08:26:00.000+08:00

THIS SCREAMS "NERD! NERD! NERD!"

I never thought I'd say this but "SUMIDA-SENSEI, WHY WERE YOU ABSENT FROM CLASS YESTERDAY?!" I was so heartbroken when you left that note on the door. I was sooo looking forward to class you know. I practice my hiragana and katakana everyday. And I read our textbook diligently, too. And of course, I was sooo dying to know how I did on that test. I did well, right?

2006-12-01T03:02:00.000+08:00

TOEFL, YOU FOOL!

The rain woke me up so now I can't sleep. The first thought that came to me when I opened my eyes was, "Lintik na TOEFL yan." So since I need to get this out of my system, I figured I should write it all down.

The fact is, the Philippines is an English-speaking country. Philippine schools have been teaching the language to little kids as young as three years old (like me!). Throughout my campus life, it has been THE preferred medium of communication. Speak in Filipino (or Tagalog) and people will think you're a bit slow.

I had to take an English test when I applied for high school, and another one when I took the entrance test for uni. And I did well in both. Now I'm part of the workforce and proficiency in the language is just one of the many things that make me desirable to employers.

But I don't really want to stop there. I want to learn more to serve more. I would like to be more qualified and capable to do other things that will hopefully help make a better society. I kid you not.

And with the perceived decline in the quality of education in this country, and with my desire to learn in a better (and more advanced--sorry Ateneo! You know I have a love-hate relationship with you!) academic environment, I figured this is not the right place to study in.

So I understand the cost, and I understand the implications of this. What I cannot understand is the need to take the TOEFL, which is so damn redundant. My parents did not spend all that money just to have me take a test that I'm very sure is a breeze. And why is it THE only way to proove your English language proficiency? Can't the school tell through my email that I am not struggling with the language and that it co-exists harmoniously with my native Filipino/ Tagalog? Don't Jesuit universities know their fellow Jesuit universities abroad? Isn't TOEFL for people who are not very familiar with the language? Does this have something to do with my being from a third world country with (very interntionally visible) dummies for "leaders"?

Argh! I understand why I need to take a Japanese langauge proficieny test. It is a new langauge to me, and I am humble enough to take it. But TOEFL? Hello! I watch these American shows and most people can't even spell correctly!

2006-11-27T13:41:00.000+08:00

THIS TIME, IT'S KATANA

Now that the class has (sort of) mastered hiragana down pat, we've moved on to master katakana. It's fun. A-ba. Ma-ru-nong na pa-la a-kong mag-ba-sa.

And I can now write my name in katakana, too! Next week, Sumida-sensei will teach us how to hand over our business cards the (polite) Japanese way. Coolness.

2006-11-20T15:33:00.000+08:00

HIRAGANA HEADACHE

Our class (yeah, I’m a "student" again, thrice a week) just finished learning hiragana, one of two Japanese syllabaries, and I must say it was quite a feat. Although I still forget what some characters mean, I can at least read and write a little of the language now, which makes me an extremely happy girl. Hoarding knowledge, este, learning is fun.

2006-11-16T12:14:00.000+08:00

TABEMASHO!

I was on my way home from work yesterday when the perfect name for my future kids hit me: If it's a girl, Cheesecake. If it's a boy, Coffee. If they're fraternal twins, Cheesecake and Coffee will be deee-licious together.

2006-11-04T10:52:00.000+08:00

TRIVIA, TRIVIA

A very interesting piece of information from a nun I meet up with on a weekly basis: If you go to mass everyday, you would have read the entire Bible in a year. Meanwhile, going to mass every Sunday would have made you read/ hear the entire Bible in about three years. Magsimba na tayo! Taralets!

2006-11-03T15:53:00.000+08:00

SELL IT TO ME. PLEASE?

What’s an annoying second to being given a “fresh” fork flecked with bits of food? An ignorant food server.

As Kat and I checked out the menu at Kopiroti in Tomas Morato, Quezon City last night, we became curious as to what tea tarik is. So we asked the guy at the counter. He said, while pretending to transfer the contents of an imaginary cup on one hand to another imaginary cup on the other (and vice versa), “Yung ginaganun-ganun.”

We didn’t get it. So we asked what makes it different from regular tea. He said “Yung process.”

*silence*

“So ano yung nagagawa ng process para sa tea?” I asked.

“Ewan ko po. Basta process lang po yun,” he answered.

We ended up ordering coffee. Kat had the bun. I had the kaya toast. Of course we shared our food. Both tasted good, especially when you dip the bread in coffee. Sarap!

I still wish we were given a proper answer to our tea question, though. I mean, the “process” must do something to the tea to make it taste special, right? Otherwise, what’s the point?

Besides, we wanted the person to sell the good points of tea tarik to us because we were curious about it. If he just knew enough information and if he just knew how to answer queries so we’d buy and leave the place satisfied, that’s great customer service, right?

So today I googled tea tarik so I’d learn something useful. According to randomchizmax, a Pinoy Exchange member, tea tarik is “milk tea but fastly transferred from one mug to another to create the froth. it tastes and smells better than the regular milk tea.”

So there’s my answer. I’m now a happy girl.

2006-10-28T09:17:00.000+08:00

Eh? (Part 2)
I can't remember all the details of my dream last night, except for these two main things:

1. This cute girl who was supposedly my roommate in my dream was convincing me to use a toner after I cleanse my face. She insisted that my routine should be cleanse-tone-moisturize instead of cleanse-moisturize. I was about to tell her that I read in a magazine that toners may not be necessary anymore because most new cleansers do the job just fine, but our conversation was cut short coz monsters gained entry into our building.

2. The second part of my dream had this anime thing going on. In my dream, I was part of a cartoonish gang of girls in Catholic schoolgirl uniforms. There was this group of really tall and really cute boys who blocked our way (I think my gang and I were about to go somewhere in my dream). A part of me knew we could easily kick their asses, but I was too stunned to react (I easily get distracted by height.). We didn't like them. A group of shorter boys came to our rescue. They were cute but we didn't like them, too.

Yun lang.

2006-10-23T13:03:00.000+08:00

SCISSOR SISTERS
These are my new favorite songs.

2006-10-19T11:41:00.000+08:00

TEN THINGS

Tagged by Ria.

Name ten things that you want to do/accomplish before you die. Afterwards, pick 5 people to do the same.

1. Earn my MA and PhD.
2. Fulfill the duty of a journalist as “oracle”. I would like to write THAT one special article that will spur significant change in society. (I’m obviously getting tired of “shoveling snow”.)
3. Write THAT one special poem for God.
4. Shoot THAT one special photograph for God.
5. Eat authentic Nido soup.
6. Visit the Holy Land.
7. Discern once and for all if I’m for marrying or for staying (blessedly) single. I seem to be ricocheting between the two. On the one hand, I feel happy being independent. On the other hand, I feel a bit sad but hopeful when I see old married couples attending mass together.
8. Live in my own private island (Hermit tendency. Hah! Get me out of this city, God, please, please, please.)
9. To experience the high of volunteering for VSO Bahaginan.
10. Humility.

Tagging: Jenny Hernandez, Jemima de Vera, Jeline de Dios, Yol Jamendang, Christine Culibao

2006-10-12T16:20:00.000+08:00

EH?

Last night, I dreamt that I was having lunch with Mariah Carey at a school cafeteria. She was slicing a delicate-looking chicken fillet while I grabbed a mushroom-shaped muffin from the counter. Erhm, that's it. Nothing else happened. Crazy.

2006-09-28T11:27:00.000+08:00

MY PALAWAN TRIP
(This is a VERY long post…don’t say you weren’t warned!)

My birthday gift to myself was a gift well-spent. And despite the many pearls, native bags and food calling my name, I thank God I stuck to my budget. Well, actually, I even spent less than my carefully crafted budget. Yey!

Day 1:
Ria and I boarded the Cebu Pacific morning flight. The plane was supposed to take off at 9:00 a.m., but for some reason unknown to us, it left Manila at about 8:30. We thought we were early when we arrived at the airport at a little past 7:00, but it turns out it was just enough time for checking in. The line wasn’t that long but there was this group of politicians and their stupid entourage from a province that starts with the letter “R” that cut in line. It was supposed to be our turn. I got furious. Just because they hold public office doesn’t give them the license to act as if they own the whole damn airport. I don’t really care if they’re with the mayor, the vice mayor and the councilors (The mother hen of the entourage made sure we ordinary “peasant people” of the Philippines knew this.) of “Province R”. A line is a line and the proper procedures must be followed. As public servants, they should know this.

Because there is strength in numbers, they were noisy inside the plane as well. They also brought styro-packed longsilog (longganisa, sinangag, and itlog) that made the interior of the plane smell like a “karinderia”. Urgh. Ria and I pretended they didn’t exist by taking photos of ourselves and of the view of the islands outside.

The sky was gray when we arrived in Puerto Princesa (PP). After making the necessary inquiries about the place at the makeshift tourism office in the PP airport, we took one of those Department of Tourism (DOT)-accredited trikes to Casa Linda Inn.

Having made no prior reservations, we weren’t sure if the place is fully booked or not, or if we’ll have a roof over our heads for the next two days. Luck was on our side when the girl at the front desk said there’s one room left. A few seconds later, a lone middle-aged American guy went inside and inquired if there’s a vacant room left. The girl said there’s none left. Coz we got the last available room! Squee! That was just the start of our good luck.

After plopping our bags in our room (It was room number 8—what a blessed number), we walked around town to look for a nice lunch. Our feet brought us to a restaurant called “Bilao at Palayok”. We ordered prawns and veggies. Both were good!

Before leaving, Ria got the cellphone number of the trike guy who drove us to the inn—a middle-aged guy named Jerry whom we called “Kuya” throughout our stay at PP—and made him our official transpo guy/tour guide. Ria texted Kuya to fetch us at the restaurant for our city tour.

Kuya took us to the Crocodile Farm, the Iwahig prison (the prison without bars), and the Mitra ranch. This trip was a no-brainer. The crocodile farm was full of crocs, the prison was full of prisoners (selling souvenir items they made themselves), and the ranch was, well, a ranch (which offered a spectacular view of the Honda Bay islands).

Along the way, our chitchat with Kuya went to food, and he said we should try this restaurant called KaLui near our Inn. He said the food’s better than what we ate at Bilao at Palayok.

So Ria and I went to KaLui for dinner. The resto, it turns out, requires prior reservations. The place was packed when we went there but luck was still on our side coz the resto people were able to find us a table. Yey!

Kuya was definitely NOT kidding when he told us the food’s good. It really was! Being Manila people, we’re used to teeny-weeny food servings with unreasonable price tags. But in Palawan, the food is really worth your money.

I had fish cordon bleu with veggies and squid and rice. Ria had basically the same, except that instead of cordon bleu, she had blue marlin steak. We thought the plate would have just that, coz those were the only things written on the menu. But we also had this really spicy clam soup (yey to spice!), seaweed, and dessert (a humongous fruit salad! yum!).

Ok, so I sound like a hapless peasant, but the stuff on our table that night doesn’t happen in Manila and we never thought generous servings and nice surprises still existed.

Needless to say, we slept with happy tummies.

Day 2:
This was THE day of island-hopping and our little side trip to the Vietnamese Village. Kuya drove us to the port where Ria and I hired a boat to take us to the following islands: Pandan, Snake, Starfish, and Lu-li.

We passed by Pandan but told the boat guy to go straight to Snake Island. The sand in Pandan didn’t look too inviting.

On the way to Snake Island, Ria spotted a mountain that looked suspiciously like the one our Anna was telling us about: a mountain with a peak that resembles a young woman’s erect, perky breast called “Cleopatra’s Nipple”. It was amazing. The peak undeniably resembled a girl’s nipple! You should see it to believe it.

So anyway, at Snake Island, we were greeted by a woman selling fish, which she could cook and which we could eat for lunch. So we ordered one and had it grilled. Then we went to the water for snorkeling.

Not that I already know how to swim. I still don’t. And neither does Ria. What made us try it out was the promise of Kuya Ghay, the boatman, that he’d teach us. And that it’s okay to wear our bright orange life vest and to hold on to an equally bright orange “salbabida” while snorkeling. True enough, when I looked at the other tourists around us, they were also wearing their life vests while their heads were underwater. So we weren’t the only stupid-looking orange people there. They must have been from Manila, too. Hehehe.

Anyway, the view underwater was great. Never saw too many colorful fish in my life. I asked Kuya Ghay where “Nemo” is. He led us to a coral reef where “Nemo” supposedly is. But he was not there! Kuya Ghay asked one of the boatmen where he put “Nemo”. The guy said, “Wala na. Nilipat na namin!” Ay, sayang.

So we went back to our cottage to eat lunch. Then it started to drizzle. Yikes. The day started out sunny. It was also sunny while we went snorkeling. So the drizzle was totally unexpected.

We waited a couple of minutes for it to stop. But it showed no signs of stopping. We decided to look for Kuya Ghay and we asked him to take us to Starfish Island before it rained hard.

Another no-brainer: Starfish Island has starfish. We asked Kuya Ghay to pick some for us, which he gladly did. Who knew starfish could be fun creatures? They don’t talk, they don’t move, they don’t bite. They just lie still on the sand like the brainless creatures that they are but they still manage to delight pesky girls like Ria and me. We poked them, we pinched them, and we photographed them. We watched and waited for them to walk back to the water. But of course they didn’t. Duh.

Our last stop was Lu-li Island. We didn’t leave the boat anymore coz Kuya Jerry was supposed to fetch us at the port at 3:00 p.m. for our side trip to Viet Ville.

At Viet Ville, we ate at the Vietnamese Restaurant. Rice noodles with beef and beef broth. Yum.

Then we went back to the city proper to rest. We walked a bit around the city some more before meeting up with Neralyn, who’ll take us to the public market for cheap souvenirs, in particular, the “banig” that my mother has been bugging me to buy. She said she’ll send it to her friend in the U.S.

But first, a little background about Neralyn. Neralyn is this girl we met at a crafts store in PP city on Day 1. I forgot to tell you about her previously. Sorry. But yeah, we met her while Ria and I were walking around the city, hunting for souvenirs. The store she works for weaves native cloths which they then make into place mats, bags, etc. I asked her if the store sells “banig”. She said it doesn’t, but that she can take us to the public market where we could buy some. Friendly girl. She even taught us how to weave using the stores wooden machine thingie! Nice!

So we went back to the store so she could take us to the market. It turns out that aside from being an expert weaver, she’s a “banig” connoisseur as well! She knows which “banig” is comfortable to sleep in by the feel of the material on her hand. She told us she knows this because her grandmother makes “banig”. Wow.

She went back to her store afterwards. But not before telling us which trike to ride on the way back to our Inn. Hehe.

At dinner time, we went back to KaLui—with reservations this time, courtesy of the friendly people of Casa Linda. They’re the ones who called the restaurant for us. Nice. I can’t remember all the food we ate. But I recall that we had tuna steak, prawns, veggies, blue marlin in this really sweet-tasting mango sauce…hmmm. I’m sure we ate more, but I forget the others. Ria?

Anyway, another great dinner, another pair of happy tummies.

Day 3:
This is our last day at PP. Our flight’s at 10:40 in the morning but again, the plane left earlier than scheduled. Good thing we arrived at the airport early. Kuya Jerry drove us there. After helping us with our bags, he shook our hands and thanked us. We thanked him, too. Nice guy.

Inside, Ria spotted the people from province "R" again. Urgh.

Thank God that inside the plane, we were seated at the front while they festered at the back. Although I could still hear them from where we were, at least they weren't as worse as Day 1.

When the plane landed in Manila, Ria received a text message from Kuya, asking if we were able to go home safely. Nice.

Yun lang. Fun. We’re going back soon. =)

2006-09-21T16:06:00.000+08:00

OLDER, UGH

So I turned 25 yesterday and I can’t do anything about it. People grow old. That’s how life works.

I can, however, do something about my stagnating social life. To Palawan, I go. Tomorrow. With Ria. Island-hopping, here I come!

2006-09-19T13:03:00.000+08:00

(ADVANCE) BIRTHDAY DINNER
It was fun watching the 10 friends who came out of the 14 I invited talk like old friends, even if they’ve only met some of the people there for the first time.

I used to compartmentalize my friends the way I compartmentalize my self and my different facets. Thus, I would bring my clean-cut college buddies/ Creative Writing blockmates to lunch at, say, Kamirori. I would treat my “koboy” officemates to lunch at, say, Mister Kebab. Then I’d treat my family to, for example, a Mexican restaurant. You know, that kind of thing.

This year, in the interest of economy of time (I am tempted to split my body in three to be able to finish the things required of me at work, at home, and in my other activities) and of money (I’d turn into your “peasant friend” in no time if I group everyone and treat each group in a different eating place), I decided to hold a simple dinner at home.

I wasn’t sure how everybody would mesh. I have my goody-goody friends, my socially-conscious friends, my kikay friends, my foodie friends, my travel buddies, my intellectual, artsy friends and so on and so forth.

Everything turned out surprisingly well, though. I think everybody started talking to everybody when the wine was served. The common points of interest: boys, showbiz, food. We were, except for Ria’s boyfriend, all girls.

And as the night wore on, I watched my gaggle of friends gab like my various conflicting selves. An out of body (-ies) experience.

2006-09-12T16:05:00.000+08:00

FOOD CHECKLIST

Lunch like no other (Rodic’s tapsilog)

The free cup of iced tea tasted like water from my dentist’s faucet, that is, liquid mixed with anesthesia and some other medicine, but the tapsilog, the main thing, was great. Generous servings, tasty beef flakes, not-too-oily sunny-side up. Best lunch this week. And it’s only Tuesday.

Best dessert ever (BTIC Minty Choco Chips)
Frozen yogurt that tastes like ice cream. Would have wanted it to have a stronger minty taste but was appeased by the loads of choco chips in my cup.

Kitschy diner
I had dinner with Kat last Wednesday at Butter Diner, a ‘50s themed eating place in Cubao. The place screamed of kitsch with from the music to the toaster on our table. Even the servers had these big, shiny, puffed up wigs. Kat liked it. But I wasn’t easy to impress that day.

So, anyway, she had this huge plate of steak while I had grilled chicken done Southern style. It was good. I liked that they made it a bit hotter than it usually is when I asked them to do so.

I got annoyed at the waitress who kept walking around the place with muddy shoes, though. A whole trail of dirt followed her and messed up the floor. Yuck.

Teryaki Boy GC
I have a gift certificate from Teryaki Boy which I plan to splurge on my family. It’s all good. God works.

2006-09-06T15:03:00.000+08:00

DANCE, DANCE, DANCE

So I’m reading Haruki Murakami’s “Dance, dance, dance” now. I’m nearing the end, but while reading the first few pages of the book, this was what struck me initially:

“Gazing at the rain, I consider what it means to belong, to become part of something. To have someone cry for me. From some place distant, so very distant. From, ultimately, a dream. No matter how far I reach out, no matter how fast I run, I’ll never make it.

Why would anyone want to cry for me?”

And here’s another one:

“My peak? Would I even have one? I hardly had had anything you could call a life. A few ripples. Some rises and falls. But that’s it. Almost nothing. Nothing born of nothing. I’d loved and been loved, but I had nothing to show. It was a singularly plain, featureless landscape. I felt like I was in a video game. A surrogate Pacman, crunching blindly through a labyrinth of dotted lines. The only certainty was my death.”

***

Books I would like to have but currently don’t have the funds for:

1. The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon (Sei Shonagon)
2. The Remains of the Day (Kazuo Ishiguro)
3. An Artist of the Floating World (Kazuo Ishiguro)
4. The Shooting Gallery and Other Stories (Yuko Tsushima)

***

Last night, I found myself thinking about a school bus mate’s yaya when I was eight years old, and how she loved citing me as a good example whenever her charge was too rowdy. What did I ever do to be called a good example, anyway?

I remember sitting quietly on a corner, watching my bus mates chatter away and play like crazed monkeys. I remember how part of me wanted to play like a crazed monkey, too. And I remembered how part of me stopped the part of me that wanted to be a crazed monkey because I wanted to be—and I enjoyed being—the girl sitting quietly the way nice girls should.

No wonder my bus mates didn’t bother telling the driver that I was still not inside the bus during that one time I got confused with the time. I was left crying in school, of course.

***

Write me.

2006-08-25T08:45:00.000+08:00

THE “TAKE YOUR PICK” GAME

Tagged by Ria

Rules:
This is simple. Just:
1. Emphasize all lines that apply to you.
2. Tag five more people after you finish, complete with links to their sites.
3. Let the person you've tagged KNOW that they've been tagged, for Pete's sake.

I wish I was a different ethnicity.
I have an eating disorder.
I'm short.
I'm tall.
I think I'm really attractive.
I prefer winter over summer.
I'm a geek.
I'm a shopaholic.
I'm reasonably intelligent.
I'm attracted to girls. (Typical of women who came from an all-girls school; nothing harmful here)
I'm attracted to boys.
I like British accents.
I smoke regularly.
I drink regularly.
I smoke socially.
I drink socially.
I get drunk easily.
I do drugs.
I will never date a bad kisser.
I've lied to avoid kissing them again.
I brush my hair at least 50 times a night.
I'm religious.
I'm not religious but have morals.
I lie frequently.
I'm impulsive.
I'm hardworking
I liked "Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind".
"She's All That" is one of my favourite movies.
I'm good at History.
I speak more than two languages.
I enjoy taking pictures.
I like spending money on myself.
I like spending money on others.
I have a regular income.
I earn money on a job-by-job basis.
I pay my own bills.
I rely on my parents for money.
I can cook. (I can microwave’s more like it.)
I enjoy cleaning.
Tidyness is a must in my life.
I like clutter.
My idea of good music is Britney Spears.
I have heard of Blonde Redhead.
I enjoy Blonde Redhead.
I'm fashion-conscious.
I have good taste. (…In shoes)
People tell me I have good taste. (…In shoes. Again.)
I excel academically.
I'm told I have yet to fulfill my potential.
I'm good at sports.
I'm good at certain sports.
I couldn't do sports to save my life.
I'm creative. (I have my moments.)
I'm artistically inclined.
I wanna be an artist when I grow up.
I wanna be an engineer when I grow up.
I eat when I'm upset.
I cannot adapt to change.
I'm interested in politics.
I have shoplifted.
I download MP3s.
I've done underage drinking.
I've gone underage clubbing.
I can dance reasonably well.
I can dance extremely well.
I dance like a cardboard gorilla.
I can sing.
I sing like someone stepped on my foot.
I can swim.
I enjoy surveys.
I enjoy surveys when I'm bored.
I keep a journal.
My teachers don't like me.
I enjoy controversy.
I can be a bitch/bastard. (And I show this by being sharp-tongued when provoked.)
I have a thing for bad boys/girls.
I have tattoos.
I've been in a nudist colony.
I'm not sure if I want to have children.
I'm not sure if I'll get married.
I know who I will marry.
I'm interesting.
I'm a good liar.
People enjoy talking to me.
I annoy people from time to time.
I'm a born leader.
I'm a born leader but shouldn't lead.
I enjoy felching.
I have a foot fetish.
I have a shoe fetish.
I watch "Sex and the City".
I don't think Sarah Jessica Parker is pretty.
I wanna be J.Lo.
I cut myself.
I've cut myself.
I hate people who pretend to be suicidal.
I hate popular people.
I think cheerleading is a sport.
I'm photogenic.
I live in Chucks.
I think graffiti is art.
I have dated a criminal.
I have been cheated on.
I have cheated on someone.
I have a temper. (When provoked.)
I like playgrounds.
I dance in the rain.
I'm obsessed with Shakespeare.
I have tanlines.
My favourite color is pink.
My favourite color is black.
I would classify myself as emo.
I'm musically inclined.
I like listening to music.
I like music-blasting cars.
Thongs are comfortable.
I like flip-flops. (The office doesn’t like it, though.)
I know what monogamy is... and I believe in it.
I wanna be a social worker when I grow up.
I have sibling/s.
My sibling/s annoy me.
I think "South Park" is funny.
I believe in LOVE.

Tagging: Jen, Christine, Jenied, Mica, Jax

2006-08-21T17:12:00.000+08:00

WANTED: FIGHT CLUB FOR GIRLS
I have this strange urge to go into a girly-girl bedroom--complete with flowery bedsheets, pastel curtains, and that unmistakable flowery scent--and just go nuts. You know, smash things and shout 'til my voice box breaks. I've had that urge since the summer of 2005. Or maybe earlier, say 2003.

I've read that somewhere in Japan, there's this place where people just come in and smash things up to their heart's content. I'd like some of that.

If I do that, maybe I wouldn't be too burdened with making an effort to be pleasant and likeable when my mind thinks of other uglier things. Coz then, I would have released all the negativity so the pleasantries in my interaction with the outside world would be effortless.

***

I saw my pix in a friend's blog and realized how dark my skin still is from my Cagayan North trip last summer. And how medium-sized clothes are just a bit too snug for me at this point. I've lost a bit of weight since then, and I'm optmistic that I'm slowly but surely getting back to a medium (my size before I entered that please-be-damned real estate company), but I don't think people have any idea how painful it is to see a distorted part of yourself.

I hate it when I see news articles on how good the stocks in that company performs. They should really go to hell. But I'm happy when I see how stupid their ads look in the papers, i.e., either the ad looks busy with a lot of things going on so you don't really know where to focus so you don't really bother looking at the thing, OR the concept is just plain stupid, which prompts you to go, "Huh?" then "So what?".

***

I've got three more inches to lose on my waist and I'm done. As for my skin, I'm contemplating whitening creams. I read this article in a newspaper, years ago, that said these creams won't make you mestiza, they'll just transform your skin to the tone you had during your toddler years, which is not that bad because I have Chinese-looking skin to begin with, which is not white nor black. I just want to look good in pastels and brights again.

***

So help me God.

2006-08-17T15:52:00.000+08:00

ON VOLUNTEERS

I am highly suspicious of people who brag about being part of this or that NGO, or who brag about volunteering for this or that NGO’s project, especially if you examine their lives in general, and realize that they don’t truly live in solidarity with the poor, as they would like us “spectators” to believe.

A thousand peso haircut, a two thousand peso piece of clothing, and frequent (and random?) hookups with different men or women (depending on the person’s gender) scream of a life contradictory to what he or she professes to dedicate his or her life to.

More so if that person lets other people catch him/her working on something other than what he/she should be working on “for the less fortunate”. Or if your intuition tells you that he or she just joined a volunteer group just because that’s where the cool people are, and not really because he or she believes in the thrust of the project. Because if that person really did believe in the project, then he or she would enjoy spending time there, instead of declaring sporadic participations as a “press release” of his or her greatness.

Since my social circle is limited, I only know one person who is totally NOT what I described earlier. She is actually serious about this stuff. Her name’s Jen, she works at an NGO, she volunteers for other NGOs, and she takes further studies to add to her skills in development work. She’s a really simple person who doesn’t need expensive things to make her feel complete, which is the most important thing.

2006-08-12T09:38:00.000+08:00

WATASHI WA MONO O MIMASEN

I must be going blind. When I stepped out of the house with my contact lenses on, I couldn’t see the fur of our dog Lira with the usual sharpness my contacts afford me. Even the leaves of the trees looked like limp, overcooked pechay.

At the office, I’m finding it hard to look at the computer monitor. My eyes hurt from staring at the blank screen and blinking cursor in front of me when I’m thinking of what to write.

Have my grades reached the 400 mark now?

A trip to the eye doctor would do me good. Right now, I am a camera set on a narrow depth of field.

2006-08-04T16:32:00.000+08:00

NAME THAT TUNE

1. I was just guessing at numbers and figures
Pulling your puzzles apart
Questions of science, science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart

2. Let's rearrange
I wish you were a stranger I could disengage
Just say that we agree and then never change

3. And it may take some time to
Patch me up inside
But I can't take it so I
Run away and hide
And I may find in time that
You were always right
You're always right

4. When you came my way
You brightened every day

5. We'll be together, yeah! - with a roof right over our heads;
We'll share the shelter, yeah, oh now! - of my single bed;
We'll share the same room, yeah! - for Jah provide the bread.

6. I drive naked through the park
And run the stop sign in the dark
Stand in the street, yell out my heart
To make, to make you love me

7. I’m giving it up and just a little more
This heartfelt leap I surrender
With arms raised tonight.

8. Give me a chance to hold on,
Give me a chance to hold on,
Give me a chance to hold on,
Just give me something hold on to

9. I was alone thinking I was just fine
I wasn’t looking for anyone to be mine
I thought love was just a fabrication
A train that wouldn’t stop at my station

10. Its a big enough umbrella
But its always me that ends up getting wet

11. My heart said follow through
But I know now that I'm way down on your line
But the waiting feeling's fine

12. The stories in your eyes
Tell of silent wings
You fly away on

***

Answers are here.

2006-08-01T11:46:00.000+08:00

THE BACKPACK SOLUTION

Back from Bora. Despite the monsoon rains, Kat and I still had fun eating, walking barefoot at the beach, shopping, and making fun of Chinese tourists in high heels. These Chinese women should really, really, really learn how to dress up.

A day before going there, Kat called me to tell me to use a backpack instead of the usual luggage I bring. She said it’ll help us move around the place with ease. And she was right. With only the bare essentials, we went places faster coz we didn’t have to wait for our checked-in luggage at the airport, nor did we have to lug around heavy stuff during the van ride from Kalibo to Caticlan and the boat ride from Caticlan to Bora, unlike our fellow tourists.

I shall take only a backpack when I travel from now on. Why didn’t I think of that before?

Anyway, my impressions as a first-timer in “Paradise”:

1. I kept mouthing “No, no, nooooo” in my mind’s eye when I saw some restaurants in Bora which are also in Manila. I don’t like seeing the same old things when I travel. Otherwise, what’s the point?

When we got settled, though, Kat, who has been there before, brought me to the restaurants that are NOT found back home. Except for a “slight casualty” involving a badly cooked steak, everything else was just fine. Calamansi cupcake, anyone? (Hi Kat! ;D )

2. There were more foreign tourists than Filipino tourists. They were mostly Americans, Koreans, Japanese and Chinese.

3. Some of the things sold in the stores of D’Mall are the same stuff I saw being sold in Bangkok’s Chatuchak Market LAST YEAR. C’mon people of Aklan! Show us the proudly Philippine made stuff!

4. The guesthouses, stores, and restaurants in Station 2 seem to be constructed chaotically. The place reminded me of Puerto Galera and how dizzying everything was.

5. Station 1 was quieter. And it really did have better sand. I like it more.

6. Somewhere at the back of Station 1 was the best isaw ever! It was even better than the isaw sold near Ylang-ylang in U.P. Diliman! It was the sauce that did it.

7. The water was a beautiful emerald green.

8. The 12% value-added tax and 10% service charge was pure extortion. Well, except for Lemon Café coz it was obvious that the staff was well-trained and the restaurant was kept clean and orderly, so the service charge was justified. But still, isn’t there some kind of law or ruling or something that says something about restaurants being required to include the VAT charge to the price of the food? I know I was able to read something about that in a newspaper before.

9. Trinkets were dirt cheap, especially when you haggle aggressively with a kid.

10. Haggling while shopping is fun. It’s my and the Bora vendors’ “shared Filipino-ness”. They overprice, I haggle. Kat’s still the expert, though.

11. I like the vendors at Bora more than the vendors at Puerto Galera. Those in Bora are not too pesky and “makulit.”

12. Dirty old American men doing HHWWPSSP with young petite dark-skinned Filipinas tend to evoke mixed feelings in me: indignation at the blatant prostitution and curiosity if the union would spawn a beautiful or ugly kid given that both of them are not aesthetically pleasing to the eye.

P.S. To those living under a rock, HHWWPSSP means “holding hands while walking pa-sway-sway pa”.

13. The rain in Bora is different from the rain in Manila. Here, the water just drops down from the sky without warning. There, it will drizzle for about 10 minutes or so before big fat drops fall from the sky. After which it’ll subside for about 5 minutes, letting you think it’ll be safe to walk round the beach again, until the waters come pouring down harder than before for half a day or so.

14. When I saw the sand, I saw polvoron and my mouth watered. It reminded me of the time I saw yellow soap and it made me think of cheese so I ate it. I was about six years old then, I think. I think I’ve written about that soap-eating episode here before.

15. Being in Bora made me wonder how it compares to El Nido in Palawan.

2006-07-27T06:56:00.000+08:00

CUTE CATHOLIC BOY IN THE FLESH
He's a chinoy guy with three silver studs on his left ear and a crucifix tied around his wrist, like a bracelet (but it's supposed to be a necklace). So when he talks and makes hand gestures, the crucifix dangles hypnotically left and right.

This is going to be a fun class. =)

SLIGHTLY RETARDED

2006-07-26T16:43:00.000+08:00

1. Today I wore the wrong bra. Grabbing any thing I can cover my breasts with, my head found out too late that my hand grabbed the kind that minimizes breasts instead of enhancing them.

To add insult to injury, I unwittingly wore a sheer top. I didn't realize the gravity of my error until I noticed this high school kid happily smiling while looking at my torso.

Thank heavens for jackets. Remind me never to hurry up early morning dressing again.

2. Today is the first day of my photography class. Our first assignment is to bring a photo that we like. I brought a cookbook with lots of yummy pictures. I wonder what my "classmates" will think of me.

3. A Japanese visiting research assistant just arrived. Just when I was about to open my mouth for a traditional Japanese greeting, my mind blanked out.

4. I created a multiply account because of a friend's prodding. I didn't want another blog or phlog but she had a bright idea so I relented. It's now happily floating in cyberspace.

2006-07-19T20:17:00.000+08:00

TAIHEN DESU NE

I would like to speak with Haruki Murakami someday. Which means I gotta speed up my Nihongo lessons. I'm reading his book Norwegian Wood right now and I must say I like Toru Watanabe very much. He reminds me of me.

I read the translator's note at the back, and it says that the book may be autobiographical, in a way. Although we really can't be sure. If it is truly autobiographical, I would be very happy. I'm not sure why, but I really would.

***

The dull thudding in my chest reminds me of the nights I'd ride a homebound jeepney in Quezon Avenue, crying. It wasn't my first heartbreak, but it was my first failed relationship.

The other passengers would steal glances my way, curious about the cause of the red, tear-stained face. I would look outside the window so they wouldn't see.

***

I wished that this week, no one would talk to me. I would like to be given the chance to think in peace. But more than that, I would like to conserve my energy--or whatever's left of it.

When I wake up, walk, and do the things I'm supposed to do (like a wind-up bird, I suppose), I feel that the only way I could do these is to face them head-on, alone, without any person interrupting me to ask for a favor or to make small talk.
Gathering up my various selves to do my daily routine is hard enough. What more with being pleasant and polite like normal human beings should be, when what I really want to do is bury my head in a pillow and scream my heart out?

Oddly enough, though, I think I'm finally learning to keep appearances. That is, to mask the festering negative feelings with a smile. Like a proper PR person should.

Needless to say, my wish for a no-talk week was not granted. More than my usual share of people talked to me. A lot of lost students asked for directions. Oldies flirted (Too bad I don't flirt back, like a proper frigid woman). My office tasks for the week required me to communicate with people.

But I was given something else, though. A good enough trade-off. Grace under pressure. I don't cry in jeepneys anymore.

2006-07-16T14:49:00.000+08:00

ARISTOTLE WAS ON TO SOMETHING

I was browsing through my books this morning and I found this. If poems are clothes for mood dressers, then this was what I wore today. Hi Naya!

***

Vase of Flowers, in Watercolor
By Naya S. Valdellon

As for me, I am a watercolor.
I wash off.
-Anne Sexton

I am the vase of flowers
on the canvas you leave
unfinished. You do not
dare complete this scene-
paint a table with me
as the centerpiece, a lamp
for light, glasses for sight,
a mirror to reflect what
you see in me. No, I exist
alone in your memory.
I am the vase of flowers
you leave, the canvas
you leave unfinished.
Your brush could stain
my leaves with color,
define the curves of these
petals, shape this vase
you have placed me in.
Until now, I do not know
what kind of flower
I am to you-just one
without thorns. I am
the vase of flowers,
the vase of flowers
you leave unfinished.
If I asked, would you
tell me why you cannot
picture a room for me
to live and breathe in?
Or make me bloom
as vividly as real flowers
in your real garden?
I am the vase you leave,
the flowers you leave,
the canvas unfinished.
You have painted me
in watercolor, in the blurs
and strokes of dreams,
then left me lonely
on this canvas. Are you
waiting for me to wilt?
Do you still want me
to break? Will you water
or wash me off with tears?

2006-07-13T09:14:00.000+08:00

BOY, OH BOY

There’s this high school kid who always greets me with a cheery “Good morning!” whenever I pass by him at the pathway connecting Bellarmine Hall and the EAPI. I don’t know him and neither do I know why he does that but it does brighten up my day. Which leads me to think that he must have polite and peppy parents, and that when I do have a kid in the future, I’d like my kid to be exactly like that, too.

Well, maybe just on the polite and peppy part. I’d like it if my kid’s better-looking…well, gorgeous, actually, with China doll-like features, shiny jet black hair, and a tall, lean frame. The high school kid I bump into on a regular basis is quite short, with big eyes, moreno skin, and curly hair…cute and pleasant-looking and close to my dream kid, but not quite.

Biology tells us that dream kids, in order to be turned into real ones, require a man and a woman to have sex first. I mean, duh, how else are you going to have a child…unless you adopt? And before a couple does it, they must be married and insanely in love with each other, according to the Catholic way. Which is where the problem lies. Well, more of MY problem, really.

I was talking to Ginny on YM last week, complaining how come she meets all these fantastic (and not so fantastic) guys on a regular basis, which consequently means that she is, of course, “in love” on a regular basis. Her reply was simple. So simple it reminds you of the way a rotten fruit falls right smack on your head on a sunny Saturday morning: Because I hardly go out anymore. Ergo, I don’t meet new people often.

But do the events/functions I cover for work after 5:00 PM count? *thought process* Hmm. I guess not. I only meet oldies and Jesuits there.

That said, and assuming I already know what to do, let me move on to another one of my semi-petty concerns these days: my pre-quarter life crisis. Although I am not officially 25 ‘til September rolls around, I can feel the crisis looming ever so…insanely. Because realistically speaking, the time between getting to point A (knowing someone) to point B (raising a family with that person) doesn’t happen overnight.

To illustrate (this EXCLUDES the time it takes to find a guy):

1. Getting to know a guy, i.e., the friendship stage Let’s give that 6 to 12 months for a “thorough inspection” which includes marveling at his fantastic traits, finding out his not-so-fantastic traits and contemplating whether you can or cannot live with it, sniffing for a hygiene problem, checking if he harbors any deadly disease of if he has the potential for [clinical] insanity, seeing if his values complement (or will enrich) yours (and vice versa, I think), finding out his eating habits (coz let’s face it, spending time with me will most definitely entail a lot of hearty eating, hehe), and asking God if this person’s really it.

2. Having a relationship with a guy. Let’s give that…hmm…2 to 3 years. This is where step 1 continues. And more. And if all goes well, we go to step 3.

3. Seeing if it all leads to the big question. Or planting it in his head so that it would appear to be his idea, not yours, hehehe. Let’s give that 6 to 8 months. This requires a rock solid foundation. And careful planning.

4. Marriage!

Adding it all up, it would take 4 to 5 years to get from point A to point B. Which would make me about 29 to 30 years old. But of course, a baby will not magically appear after walking down the aisle. That would be another one to two years. Which would make me 31 or 32. Yikes. Do you see what I’m seeing?

2006-07-05T15:55:00.000+08:00

CHIGAIMASU!

“Chotto, matte kudasai,” which means “Please wait a bit” in Japanese, is a phrase I feel I’ll use often, especially when it’s taking my brain so friggin’ long to understand someone speaking Japanese rapidly. Wala lang. It’s just a feeling I’ve got even if I haven’t actually gone past Lesson 3.

That, and “Aho hito wa dare desu ka?” (Who is that person?) for boy-watching purposes.

But the ultimate Japanese word that has got my heart a-thumpin (so far) is chigaimasu, which means “wrong”. I’m sooo feeling I’ll be muttering it under my breath often as a substitute for the B-word, the S-word and heck, even the F-word when I’m in a bad mood.

###

“Stars are blind” by Paris Hilton is so…hot.

###

Not that learning the language is so hard. I actually enjoy it. I just wish I had more time, instead of cramming everything on weekends. AND (And I mean AND), it beats learning French anytime. Zut! =)

2006-07-03T16:09:00.000+08:00

PRE-25

"On Saturday nights I would sit by the phone in the lobby, waiting for Naoko to call. Most of the others were out on Saturday nights, so the lobby was usually deserted. I would stare at the grains of light suspended in that silent space, struggling to see into my own heart. What did I want? And what did others want from me? But I could never find the answers. Sometimes, I would reach out and try to grasp the grains of light, but my fingers touched nothing."

-Norwegian Wood, Haruki Murakami

2006-06-29T15:52:00.000+08:00

D’OH!

Our hearts are restless ‘til they rest in you.

This Catholic thing will never let me get away with “murder” again. EVER.

I was looking forward to downing bottles of Cerveza Negra and/or San Mig Strong Ice at Kat’s birthday dinner last night but instead I got an obedient Ella hurrying to go home coz her Mom said so, and a responsible Kat taking only a sip from my own bottle coz she’s driving. The only ones who are game enough to drink and be merry are Ann and I. Why oh why?

I should have known, though. I knew I couldn’t possibly get away with it. My daily prayers, combined with our office’s weekly Bible study (my boss is a Christian from CCF) where we’re required to memorize certain passages from the Bible, seems to have installed an automatic-crisis-prevention-response in my mind.

It said: Our hearts are restless til they rest in you. Our hearts are restless til they rest in you. Our hearts are restless til they rest in you. Our hearts are restless til they rest in you. Our hearts are restless til they rest in you…

But of course you won’t find that anywhere in the Bible. It’s from St. Augustine.

Either way, it was a reminder for me from up above. Which I tried to drown with du-didu-di-doo. But nope, there’s no getting past it.

Although I got a plate full of fatty stuff from Chili’s to keep me from getting drunk in a snap, I only got to drink one Cerveza Negra. And that was that. Something told me it wasn’t as fun as it used to be. And it wasn’t the way to go. Whatever plateau my life has seemed to reach, and whatever it is I am desperately waiting for to shake things up, the bottle is not the answer and my heart will be restless...

2006-06-27T13:20:00.000+08:00

29 THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT KAT DE CASTRO

1. I met her at a job interview some time in April 2003. But I didn’t know yet that her name was Kat. She just opened the door to the office and let me in without saying much. I was applying for a job at a tech and lifestyle magazine.

2. She was not that nice to me at first. But her friend Ella was. We hung out together, nonetheless, mainly because I had no choice. It was a small office. Hwekhwekhwek. =)

3. I don’t know how we became friends. The reason must have been something about books. One morning, I just found myself accepting her old books of poetry and plays at the office. It turns out she was a literature major at UST and that she likes to read, too. From then on, she was a lot nicer.

4. A good chunk of my 1 ½ years stay with the magazine was spent eating with her. Because our old office was surrounded with a lot of good restaurants, we had great lunches and snacks.

5. She was one of four good friends I made there.

6. She likes spicy food, like me.

7. I had the best gimmick nights of my life with her and the other magazine people there. We played a lot of billiards (I suck at it, though), drank a lot of San Mig Lights, sampled most of the restaurants at Timog, Tomas Morato, and Eastwood, and watched girls in tight jeans, red lacy underwear and protruding bellies dance on tables…

8. She and Ann both enjoy going to comedy bars. I don’t coz I think the jokes are lame. But Kat thinks I’m just too cerebral for my own good.

9. One of her favorite soups is the hot and sour soup at Little Asia. Me, too.

10. She collects The Chronicles of Narnia.

11. Our first and only out of town trip with SOME of the magazine gang was in Puerto Galera. There, I watched her bargain-hunting prowess at work. She was able to find for us a decent air-conditioned room for only P800 a night. While shopping for trinkets, she was able to score a cute chunky necklace for about P80 (it usually costs hundreds back in Manila), and was able to negotiate a fair enough price for my own purchases.

12. When we took a personality test at the office before, the results showed she has a dominant personality. None of us in our group had the same result. It was thus the most logical explanation for her “bully tendencies.” =)

13. Her favorite expression when bullying Ann is, “Jojombagin kita, sige!”

14. She lives in Laguna and says the best buko pie is NOT in Collette’s.

15. She just got a new car. She has yet to take us for a ride. (Hint, hint, Kat!)

16. Our ex-boyfriends have the same name. But of course, they’re not the same person.

17. Last December, Ann and I made her come all the way from Ortigas to (hellish) Commonwealth Avenue for dinner. She came late and with aching feet, of course. What, with the traffic and walking and all. She vowed never to be duped into coming to that area again. Hehehe.

18. We went to Bangkok last September 2005 and had fun eating and shopping. At the Chatuchak Weekend Market, I saw her bargain-hunting skills at work again as she shamelessly flirted with a decent-looking Thai selling cute t-shirts so she could score a bargain. She did. It was amazing.

19. At Bangkok, she learned that she can only tolerate a maximum of three chilis. The Thais can eat more than five.

20. She’s my most favorite travel buddy EVER coz she can bully me into doing nature stuff I wouldn’t normally do…like trek a mountain in Puerto. Plus we like to eat and shop and she’s not “maarte”.

21. We embarrassed ourselves at Puerto when we ran screaming coz we thought the waves were gonna wash over us. It was soooo obvious we’re not used to the beach. Haha.

22. While walking around Puerto, a middle-aged woman stopped us on our tracks and said “Nag-sex po kayo. Nag-sex po kayo.” Bewildered, we tried to remember what we actually did the night before. We remembered that we 1) drank a really strong Mindoro Sling (a mixture of gin and something else), 2) made fun of Mark as gay bartenders dressed in mini skirts and slinky tops danced around him, and 3) dodged waves while running around the beach, screaming. No sex, apparently, so we ignored the woman, thinking she’s a bit nuts. Later, we realized what she was actually saying: “Pa-massage na po kayo. Pa-massage na po kayo.” Kailangang maglinis ng ilong, hehe. =)

23. I watched The Da Vinci Code with her at Gateway.

24. She gives sensible advice. It also helps that she’s a “bully”. Of course, kami-kami lang nakakaintindi nun. =)

25. At the office, she’s known as Kat. At home, she’s known as…Karen.

26. She’s four years and a few months older than me.

27. It’s her birthday on tomorrow, the 28th. But she doesn’t want to reveal her real age.

28. If I once duped her into divulging the name of the guy she’s crushing on through a “state of the art, scientifically proven method” on the Internet, I can find a way around telling her age without actually saying it.

29. Happy birthday, Kat de Castro! =)

2006-06-23T17:08:00.000+08:00

CHEAPSKATE!
1. While checking out the trinkets at Mag:Net in Katipunan today, Ginny asked me where I usually get my earrings. I remembered that this morning, I chose to wear a pair of quarter moon earrings given by Gabby when we were in Dumaguete. So I said I wear whatever people give me. “What a way to save!” sabi niya.

So true.

2. Ria invited me to go to Liliw in Laguna to buy insanely cheap footwear one of these Saturdays. I was about to say yes when I remembered that (f*#@!) I have work on Saturdays. Urgh.

Did you know that in Liliw, you can buy a cute beaded pair of flip-flops for just Php 100 or so, depending on your bargaining skills? Or that you can buy a decent pair of heeled shoes for double that price (not in real leather, though, but cute, still). Or, that you can buy a pretty pair of ballet flats, also for Php 200? Argh!

3. Books at the Ateneo Press are on sale ‘til the end of the month. And I know exactly what to buy!

2006-06-13T10:29:00.000+08:00

REQUIRED READING
This guy's just nuts. I like him already.
In praise of boxer briefs

2006-06-12T13:49:00.000+08:00

LIFE'S SIMPLE PLEASURES (tagged by Jeline and Jenny)

Name ten of life’s simple pleasures that you like the most, then pick ten people to do the same. Try to be original and creative and not to use things that someone else has already used.

1. Having a bottle of basil pesto all to myself. (Takaw ko noh?)

2. In an airplane: bullying my way to the window seat. Hehe. =)

3. When my Ma or Pa texts me and offers me a ride home so I won't have to ride the damn jeepney.

4. When writing is a breeze and not a chore.

5. Waking up to clear skin and a good hair day.

6. Holidays like this one, when I don't have to wake up early for work.

7. Vanilla icing.

8. A hug from my baby sis.

9. Hajimemashite. Watashi wa Mitzie desu.

10. When I was praying the other day and was surprised to see that Jesus has a tan, too.

Tagging...Oh what the heck, let's make this is a free for all thing. =)