late-night, caffeine-induced epiphanies

talking

2011-01-08T10:55:00.000+08:00

observation:
a mother of two kids (one of which is a toddler) is talking to herself, while the kids run around in circles and wreak havoc in a coffeeshop, all the while the husband is talking to someone on his mobile, totally oblivious that his wife is on the edge of her sanity.

discovery

2008-09-08T02:51:00.002+08:00

last weekend, my husband and i took our two kids to the sm science discovery center at mall of asia (moa). our ticket included a chance to watch a show in their planetarium. the last time i've been to a planetarium was when i was still in elementary! so secretly, i was really keen on seeing the universe again.

and once again i wasn't disappointed (although, the center itself lacked a kind of inspiration, some kind of magic...anyway...). the show was entitled, "the search for life", narrated by harrison ford, and produced by NASA. it didn't really show all of the planets of the solar system because the theme is about man's search for life...for other living creatures in the vastness of the universe.

once again i felt small. humbled by the immensity of the universe we live in. we have come a long way in terms of science, but in the words of mr. ford, "we have barely scratched the surface". there trillions of stars and planets in the universe, the Milky Way itself is already composed of billions of it, so what are the odds of those planets having life, probably a lot. but he also said that there might never be another planet like ours.

seven

2008-07-24T15:34:00.002+08:00

is seven a magic number? some say it's a lucky number, some say it's not. i say it's just a number...that's all.

seven years married to this day.

have a lot to say about it but don't quite know if i should. let's just say that i'm not the same person who got married seven years ago. whether that is a good thing or not, it depends on who i am talking to, i guess.

but i like change. change is good. the paradox is change is the only constant we could count on in this world. some sat God doesn't change, but that is a topic for another blog.

one of my favorite words these days is temporal. because life is just that. everything we know is flowing. but i also love what walt whitman said...that nothing is ever lost...the first law of thermodynamics.

so now i'm moving .... moving with the flow of things ... happy now ... sad next ... and so far, i'm so okay with it.

seven is just a number, but let's celebrate it despite that fact.

missing

2008-05-27T16:54:00.002+08:00

there's a whole year of my life missing from these blog pages. not that it matters to anyone, it's just a little disconcerting that nothing worthy happened over the past year. not even a birthday post. sadly, no birthday celebration this year. but as one reaches a certain age, you let this one pass. but that is not to say again that it didn't hurt. it did. but hopefully there is another birthday coming up and that it would be better than this year.

courage under fire

2007-04-20T14:41:00.000+08:00

A friend sent me a message commending my "courage" in announcing my turning 35. "Ikaw lang ang kilala kong nag-aanounce ng edad!"

Gosh!I never realized it was a brave thing to do. I guess there comes a time in a woman's life when she just doesn't really think about these things anymore,because there are more important matters to think about.

And besides, I love birthdays...always have. And I realized too that I love celebrating them...with people I love and who love me. Sometimes, the people you love don't come to your party but after the initial disappointment, one learns to just take it all in stride. What matters is the people who do come and celebrate your life with you. Birthday or no birthday. They are there to hear you whine about your flabs and love-handles. They are there to cheer you on as you embark on a re-newed career. They are there to comfort your broken heart. They are there to give you a good smack on the butt for some stupid thing you've done...again!

Dr. Seuss wrote a book, "Do You KNow HOw Lucky YOu are?" Well, Dr. Seuss, I know now.

Thank you to my husband, my kids, my mom & siblings, my relatives and in-laws, my dearest friends who came and dined and wined and cheered me on my 35th birthday. Thank you to all those who send their greetings via email, text or phone call. Thank you to all those who remembered but failed to tell me. Sa birthday niyo, sana mabilaukan kayo ng cake niyo !!! (Hahaha...joke lang po!)

Cheers!

Baking 101

2007-02-23T08:24:00.000+08:00

I am turning 35 on my next birthday. I guess when you reach a certain age, you start thinking of other ways to entertain yourself. You start to lose some of your old fears. You start to feel that it really wouldn’t kill you if you fail in this endeavor. You start to relax.

Honestly, I am still a bit far from that relaxing point. I still have my old fears in my baggage. But I am willing to try anything. So, I enrolled in a baking class for beginners. Baking 101 at Heny Sison Culinary School.

When I was growing up, I rarely helped in the kitchen. Of course, I did my share of housework, mostly cleaning my room, tidying up, an occasional laundry here and there, some ironing, and washing the dishes. But cooking was never really my cup of tea. I guess it’s because that was my mom’s turf. Although she was not a professional cook or anything fancy like that, she has, nevertheless, intimidated me. She has her own set of ways in the kitchen. And with my own Aries-like personality, I did not particularly appreciate being told what to do or otherwise. So I just let my younger sister help her out in that arena, and I was quite happy with just eating whatever they served.

Married life presented the kitchen as a challenge for me. Thankfully, my husband wasn’t really particular with his food. He was quite “tolerant” of my initial efforts in gastronomy. And since I love to read, I found the Cooking section of the bookstore my new hangout. Eventually, I learned a few recipes, but I was not 100% confident at all. I always had to have a “cheat-sheet” on hand, just to pull me through. I now have a small repertoire of tried-and-tested recipes for our daily menu ( menudo, sinigang, tinola, mechado, chopsuey, adobo, barbecue, pasta dishes, etc.) so I just check out the cookbooks when my husband complains (“Adobo na naman!”). I also tried some recipes for kids, which I would like to write about in another post.

That said, I thought I would go through my entire life without ever having to light up the oven. If I thought cooking was a challenge, baking was impossible. I don’t know really where I got the idea that baking was for those people who were born to cook (or bake, in this case.) They are those people who were exposed to cooking at an early age, had chefs for parents, or had the real passion for food. I love to eat cakes and cookies, of course (who doesn’t?) but I never thought I would ever have to bake one my whole life. Honestly. I mean I am quite contented with Red Ribbon’s Black Forest and sylvannas or Mrs. Fields’ chocolate chip cookies, why even bother baking my own?

Chef Vicki taught us the basics of baking. We were introduced to the Main Cast of ingredients: flour (all kinds: cake, all-purpose, bread, and specialized), sugar (white, brown, powdered), fats (butter, oil, margarine), flavors (extracts like vanilla, powders like chocolate or ube), eggs (whole, egg whites, egg yolks), thickeners (cornstarch, gelatin), chemical leaveners (baking powder, baking soda), alcohol (coffee liquers like Kahlua, brandy, etc.) , nuts (walnuts, pistachio, almonds, etc.). She lectured on how to handle the ingredients, how to store it, how long it may last, and how to find substitutes. (Trivia: Did you know that there is now an egg substitute in powder form which most large manufacturers use for their baked products? Just one example is the “just add water” kind of pancake mixes in the supermarket. And those big donut companies, they use egg powders, too! Hah!)

And like actors in theatre or movies, each ingredient plays a role in the whole baking process: toughener, tenderizer, moisturizer, leavener, drier, flavoring, preservative, etc. Some even perform multiple functions like the good ol’ egg, which acts as a leavener, tenderizer, moisturizer, toughener, and of course, a source of nutrients! Talk about versatility! Talk about multi-tasking!

Since baking is a process, we need tools. The oven, mixer and weighing scale need to be of good quality because they are the “heavy equipment” of the whole business. Then there’s another group of “supporting” tools like the spatula, whisk, wooden spoon, measuring cups and spoons. Hay, it was kind of overwhelming! I felt like a three-year-old who was shown all these toys to use for pretend play and I didn’t know what to use or how to use it.

It was a good thing that Chef Vicki, despite being a really professional chef, wanted an atmosphere of fun in her class. And boy, did we have fun! I guess that’s one of the good things about being in a beginners class – we all know we are all beginners, so there’s no pressure, no competition per se, no pretensions. Let’s face it, we’re idiots! So have a good laugh! Don’t take yourself or your cake too seriously. So my groupmates and I really laughed all the way while mixing the ingredients, kidded each others’ ineptness, and just had a rollicking good fun!

We just had one set-back when we over-mixed the egg white mixture and it became difficult to fold it in the egg yolk mixture of our chiffon. The cake (Ube Chiffon Cake) still turned out quite well that my two friends, Ycel and Sandy, who were the first outsiders to have a taste of the cake, gave it the thumbs-ups! (Na-impress sila, ha!)

At the end of the day, techniques were reviewed, lessons were learned from mistakes and mishaps, and new friendships were started in Baking 101. Who says you can’t bake a cake and eat it, too? I sure did! Yum!

On Becoming Me

2007-02-17T12:09:00.000+08:00

"The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on
being perfect and beginning to work on becoming yourself."
~ Anna Quindlen, American author

Because no matter how hard you try you can never be all things to
all people. And you probably won't ever do everything equally well.
But you can discover who you are and honor that person with all
your heart...And in so doing, discover the freedom that is your
birthright.

May you always know the joy of being the person you were meant to be.- Kate Nowak

For the past years, this has been my goal. An explicit goal for myself. Finding my true self. Digging up dirt. Excavating buried dreams. Removing masks. Doing what I love. Struggling. Facing demons. Stretching my wings. Sinking. Expanding my vision. Retreating.

Like the waves, I drift in and out. Some days I feel joy. Some days I feel awful. Sometimes I smile when I see my reflection. Sometimes a stranger looks back at me. Do I know you?

Sometimes I feel confident that I am on the right path. Sometimes I have no idea what I'm doing...I feel like an idiot. A stupid, crazy, neurotic, self-obsessed person. (Gosh, I hope that's just my critic talking.)

I don't feel normal sometimes...like I'm suppossed to know these things by now...what would people think? what would my children think? (Something inside whispered, "what do you think?")

The thing is, thinking is my problem. Overthinking, that is. I've often felt that this mind of mine is both a blessing and a curse. Why do I do this to myself? Why find meaning? Why have this goal? This goal. This journey to the self. Don't you know that this is the most difficult journey of all? ("And yet, the most important one." There she goes again.)

You see what I mean. I say these things out loud. And inside me, this person...she says things...honestly, creeps me out every now and then. Those peope who hear voices - well, I'm one of them. I just wonder if those voices are just one and the same. Is it her? The real me, talking to me - the outside me. Who is me?

I want to do this right. I don't want to be reincarnated in my next life to a lower being just because I didn't get it in this life. I want to right the wrongs. Cross the Ts. Forgive. Forget. Move on. Let go.

But I also want to desperately take care of myself this year. Take a mind-break. Go to the beach and just lie there. Is it so bad? Is that giving up? Or is that letting go? "Here...I've done all I can for now...can I just take a quick nap?"

The workaholic-obsessive-compulsive me doesn't want this...she wants it to be perfect...this seemingly reachable goal...this quest for the self...Can I please kick her in the butt? GGGrrrr......AAAAArrrrrgggghhhhh!@#*^#

I want to tell her, "Hey, I'm not perfect. I'm nowhere near perfect. So get off my back for now, please. I can never be everything you ever wanted me to be. I don't want to. I just want to be who I am. I just want to be happy or sad or mad or scared. I just want to read books for the heck of it. I just want to play with my kids. I just want to take naps in the afternoons. I just want to be loved. I just want to be understood. I just want to be left alone sometimes. I want to be crazy. I want to be lazy. I want to drift. I want to fly. I want to walk. I want to let him go. Let her go. Not everyone will like me. Not everyone will love me. I just want to look in the mirror and see someone I, I like, I love, I want. PLease let me do that. PLease let me. Please let me go."

Rooms

2007-01-24T10:48:00.000+08:00

It's been more than a month now since we moved into the new house. And although we have settled down a bit, there's still so much more to do. A whole room, in fact. Needless to say, we just stuffed all the stuff we couldn't handle at the moment in the storage room.

But let me share with you some of the wonderful stuff about this new house.

In the mid-afternoon, our bedroom is basked in this warm, orangey-yellow glow because the curtains filter the afternoon sunshine. I love how these curtains exude a sense of romance and mystery to the otherwise, Puritan room. It never ceases to calm my mind. Truth be told, I've been seduced to taking afternoon naps because of this. (I wish I could share it with you but I couldn't upload the photo as of this time.) It reminds me of a particular day years ago in my family's house in Balonbato. I know I wrote a poem about that day, which I promise to share, if ever I find it again.)

The attic is also one of our favorites. The kids love the space it gives them to play with their toys. My Elle loves shrieking with joy and glee as we chase her around. Eljo has enough space for his Hot Wheels and Thomas Trains without giving me a headache. My husband loves that he could "veg-out" on the couch while watching his videos. And me, I love all of these things and more. I love how the I could see the sky change into rich hues of orange and red as the sun sets in the West (which made me nickname this room as the "Sunset Room"). I love the soft breeze that wafts into the room when we open the windows. And in the early hours of the morning, I love the peace and quiet it gives me. (In fact, yesterday, I started on my yoga there.)

It may take a long while before this house can really become "roomed in" but for now I have found a home in these rooms.

leaving the nest

2006-11-23T23:59:00.000+08:00

We're moving. We're leaving our house. In fact, it's not even our house anymore. (It now belongs to my brother-in-law.) We're practically squatters now! Except we're not really being evicted, it's just that there are still some papers that need to be signed, some final financial transactions to close before we could actually move into the new house. The new house, wow! It sounds pretty exciting, but that deserves another blogpost at another time.

For now, we're leaving. We're leaving the house we've come home to for the past five years. I'm not really too emotional about the whole thing yet. It hasn't sink in. Not yet.

Until my husband announced the date of our moving out/moving in. Then a wave of panic shot across my body. This can't be happening so soon. (Although I have been losing my patience over the whole bureaucracy in the Registry of Deeds and BIR.) It's really happening. Now. It's time to pack up. It's time to get our acts together (read: sort out the stuff, throw out the junk!).

Inertia is attacking me. I am having a difficult time moving my ass to do the stuff I need to do. Finally, I called up my mom and informed her of the date. And she goes informing me all the tiny details I need to do for the move.

We need to move in during a full moon date. We need to get there before sunrise. We need to bring all our stuff at once (or at least, majority of it). We need to bring in a cup of salt, a bowl of rice, and a coconut/palm seedling (I really don't know what they call it.) What is all these superstitious stuff? Do I actually go through with these? Ahhh...I'm going nuts!

So finally, I packed some stuff. For those who truly know me, it wouldn't surprise them to find that I have packed my books, first and foremost. They are now settled comfortably in the plastic container I bought early this year (for my bookstore, supposedly) and one huge balikbayan box (courtesy of my Nanay). But the bookshelf still looks full, I actually have not packed up the children's books, thinking I might have to put those in a separate box for the kids' rooms. As for the rest of our stuff, they are still where they are where I left them. Hopefully, inertia has ran its course by the end of this week. Or else, I'm really going to panic to death.

adieu, le petit prince

2006-10-31T03:57:00.000+08:00

It was bittersweet. Our parting, that is. We have been together for almost a decade. He has given me much joy during cold, lonely nights. He has kept my faith in love alive. He has shown me how to be brave against the unknown future. He has taught me so many things about the power of love, the beauty of death, the silliness of jealousy, the pain of parting.

But it was his time to go and share his story with others. Others who might need his wisdom, as much as I did, as much as I still do. And although I could not read or touch this book for now, I know, truly believe, I shall meet My Little Prince again someday.

So maybe it is not really adieu but "arrivederci, my little prince."

what kind of thinker are you?

2006-09-27T03:14:00.000+08:00

So it's late in the evening, I have a jolting pain in my lower back, and I've got dark circles under my eyes, what do I do? I take a test. Yes, a test! Over at the BBC website they have this test on the kind of thinker you are. And according to them, I am a Musical Thinker.

Musical thinkers:
Tend to think in sounds, and may also think in rhythms and melodies
Are sensitive to the sounds and rhythms of words as well as their meanings.
Feel a strong connection between music and emotions

I'm in the company of some great men: Mozart, John Lennon, and Jimi Hendrix.

hot chocolate

2006-09-06T15:35:00.000+08:00

Last night, I watched "The Devil Wears Prada" with Jong at The Block, the latest addition to SM North Edsa. It was sort of a miracle that I actually convinced him to watch a "girly" film so I was on my best behavior.

Secretly, I was dying to watch it because of Meryl Streep. Yup, I'm a certified Streep fan. Man, can you blame me? This lady is a genius!

And this movie proves it. Just ask Nestor Torre.

Meryl Streep portrayed Miranda Priestly, editor-in-chief of Runway fashion magazine (kinda like Vogue, an icon, a legend, a bitch! You should have seen her - she is the devil incarnate in haute couture! It's actually hilarious because you probably know someone just like her. Oh, I could just hear the other women say "She reminds me of my boss!"

Meryl's portrayal is superb! In the hands of a less talented actress, it could have been made into a caricature of sorts but with Meryl, it was sublime! You would want to strangle her one moment and before you could, you find yourself aching for her (when she was in this scene about her loss, wouldn't want to spoil it for you). You suddenly want to hug her and tell her, "Miranda, it's going to be okay. You can pull through this. You're tough. You're made of stronger stuff." And before you know it, she would give you that "look" and say, "That's all."

I agree with Mr. Torre that this is not a great film, but "it is to be savored", just like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold, rainy night. Hmmmmm....yummy.

P.S.

Do try the Fashion 101 quiz in the website...just for kicks! (I barely passed...hahaha)

go figure

2006-09-04T08:09:00.000+08:00

ACEI-Philippines is organizing a seminar this September. You or your friends might be interested. Details below.

Title : “Let’s Go Figure: Teaching Strategies in Math that Build Learners’ Confidence”

Speaker : Gladys C. Nivera (Ph.D. cand.)
Associate Professor, Mathematics Department
Philippine Normal University
Licensure Examination for Teachers (LET) Reviewer

Participants : Math Teachers from different levels
College Instructors/Professors (Education and Related Courses)
Parents
School Administrators
College Students (Education and Related Courses)

Date : September 23, 2006 (Saturday)
Registration Time : 12:00 nn -1:00 p.m.
Seminar Proper : 1:00 - 4:00 p.m.

Venue : Room 104, University Hotel (formerly PCED Hostel)
University of the Philippines
Diliman, Quezon City

Registration Fee: P 350.00(Student Members)
P 450.00 (Members, discounted rate)
P 500.00 (Non-Members)
( inclusive of snack, hand-outs, and certificate )

N.B.
1. Participants are requested to call Melanie Nuñez-Oribiana at (0918) 244-94-99 / (02) 426-7539 or Marie Ann R. Abacan at (044) 228-2413 / (044) 840-1814 / (0915) 537-6065 or Ritz Lucas at (02) 536-86-52. Reservations will be on a first come, first-served basis.

2. Discounted Rates (Member's rate) are applicable for up to 4 participants per member school only.

3. Participants are requested to be punctual so that we can start the seminar on time.

4. Members who joined last July may claim their Membership ID’s during this seminar.

anything is possible

2006-08-30T10:10:00.000+08:00

Excerpts from Sarah Ban Breathnach's Simple Abundance:

Authentic success is :

- having time enough to pursue personal pursuits that bring you pleasure, time enough to make the loving gestures for your family you long to do, time enough to care for your home, tend your garden, nurture your soul.

- never having to tell yourself or those you love, "maybe, next year."

- knowing that if today were your last day on earth, you could leave without regret.

- feeling focused and serene when you work, not fragmented.

- knowing you've done the best you possibly can, no matter what circumstances you faced; it's knowing in your soul that the best you can do is all you can do, and that the best you can do is always enough.

- accepting your limitations, making peace with your past, and reveling in your passions so that your future may unfold according to a Divine Plan.

- discovering and calling forth your gifts and offering them to the world to help heal its ravaged heart.

- making a difference in other lives and believing that if you can do that for just one person each day, through a smile, a shared laugh, a caress, a kind word, or a helping hand, blessed are you among women.

- not just money in the bank but a contented heart and peace of mind.

- earning what you feel you deserve for the work you do and knowing that you're worth it.

- paying your bills with ease, taking care of all your needs, and the needs of those you love, indulging in some wants, and having enough left over to save and share.

- not about accumulating but letting go, because all you have is all you truly need.

- feeling good about who you are, appreciating where you've been , celebrating your achievements, and honoring the distance you've already come.

- reaching the point where being is as important as doing.

- the steady pursuit of a dream.

- realizing that no matter how much time it takes for a dream to come true in the physical world, no day is wasted.

- valuing inner, as well as outer labor - both your own and others'.

- elevating labor to a craft and craft to an art by bestowing Love on every task you undertake.

- knwing how simply abundant your life is exactly as it is today.

- being grateful for the many blessings bestowed on you and yours that you can share your portion with others.

- living each day with a heart overflowing.

May we all achieve authentic success!!!

delirious

2006-08-30T05:40:00.000+08:00

It came as a surprise, no, a shock! I lifted the telephone receiver expecting to hear a friend's voice, instead, it was the voice of a stranger. Oh, but it was a wonderful stranger, indeed; it was in fact, the voice of my angel. And she was telling me I got accepted as one of the ten fellows in the Barlaya Writing Workshop.

My mind was reeling; I actually couldn't concentrate on what she was telling me. She congratulated me, told me to wait for more details about the venue of the workshop, and I think I did manage to say thank you for the great news.

And when I have finally put the phone down, I screamed in delirious happiness! Aaaaahhhhh!!! I made the cut...I did it...thank you God! I have not felt this ecstatic about something for the longest time. My husband asked me what's wrong, and I gave him a tight hug and cried, "I'm so happy." He must have thought I was crazy or weird. I felt weird. Happy-weird.

And then, I remembered this line from Sarah Ban Breathnach's book, "Simple Abundance":

"Desire, Ask, Believe, Receive" - Stella Terrill Mann

It is how we should pray, she said. I have asked Him to show me where I need to be...what I need to do...and serendipitously, I was lead to this workshop. It took me a little under a week to prepare the final manuscript, but the seed of the story had been germinating inside my brain for more than three years. It was just waiting for the right moment. Intially, I was scared to write it. It was a story that I really nurtured and wanted to publish. I was terrified that it would get torn into pieces by the critics. And yet, my heart knew it was time to let go, "If not now, when?"

As I saw it on print for the first time, I believed it was good. And when I submitted the manuscript, I hoped it would be good enough. And when I got that call, I knew it was.

"Dare yourself to believe in your creativity, wherever it may lead you. Trust that where it leads is exactly where you're supposed to be." - Sarah Ban Breathnach

if Pluto is not a planet, then could it be a Dwarf?

2006-08-26T00:37:00.000+08:00

A few days ago, I wrote that the universe is expanding, that new planets are being added to the solar system...but the winds have changed.

I saw the late-news on tv tonight and was surprised to hear that Pluto has been cast out.

"Astronomers today voted to create the first scientific definition of the word "planet", and Pluto did not make the cut.
In a redefinition of our solar system agreed at a conference of 2,500 astronomers in the Czech capital, Prague, the dinky and remote Pluto was classified as a "dwarf planet".

Under the new guidelines, agreed after a week of sometimes passionate debate, to qualify as a planet a celestial body must have "cleared the neighbourhood around its orbit".

Pluto, which has been widely regarded as a planet since its discovery in 1930, has an oblong orbit that overlaps with Neptune's, so is disqualified full planet status.

The new classification means that the science textbooks will have to be ripped up, as the solar system is now made up of the eight "classical planets", plus a number of dwarf planets. The classical planets are: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune."

Read more...

But don't worry, PLuto, you still have a few friends behind you...

But the Seven Dwarfs are not taking it lying down.

"Although we think it's DOPEY that Pluto has been downgraded to a dwarf planet, which has made some people GRUMPY and others just SLEEPY, we are not BASHFUL in saying we would be HAPPY if Disney's Pluto would join us as an eighth dwarf," they insisted.

"We think this is just what the DOC ordered and is nothing to SNEEZE at."

first time

2006-08-25T15:27:00.000+08:00

Do you remember your own "first-times"? It's not just about sex, you know. It could be the first time you rode a bike, the first kiss, the first time you got an A, the first time you saw your baby, etc.

It doesn't matter what it was, what mattered was that it was the first. No matter how mundane or profound it was, some kind of mystical air had always been associated to a first time experience.

The first time will be "the experience that all other experiences of the same kind will be judged upon."

I had a 'first-time' experience today. While waiting for my son's dismissal from school, I decided to try answering the crossword puzzle in the newspaper. I was never a big fan of crossword puzzles, although, I have tried answering some in the past, I have never actually completed one, with or without help from an answer key, until today.

I was surprised at how easy it was, although maybe it was one of those puzzles in the "easy" category. Nevertheless, it was an uplifting experience to be able to complete it all by myself. It was as if I was rediscovering myself through that puzzle. I never realized that "peen" is a "hammer part" or that "pats" are "butter portions". And I couldn't believe that I still remember "Lake Erie" as one of the "Great Lakes" from my Geography lessons in high school. (That was ages ago!) And I only made one mistake: I thought "cloakroom" was the "place for coats in a cafe", but it turned out to be the "checkroom."

I wish I could have seen the inside of my brain while I was doing that puzzle; it must have been going crazy, with all those synaptic connections going on in under 30 minutes!

I was so amazed at my accomplishment that I just had to share it with someone. And I remembered Candy, my friend from college and SGV, who loved answering crosswords then. I sent her a message about the "phenomenon" and she sent a reply that made me feel happy that we could share this.

Maybe I would never be able to complete another crossword puzzle in my life but I will always have this "first-time" embedded in my "long-term memory" forever.

my slide

2006-08-23T10:40:00.000+08:00

being funny

2006-08-22T23:27:00.000+08:00

Someone once told me that he thought I was funny. Hah! That was funny! If you ask my friends, they would give you a blank stare and think you are losing your mind. I do associate myself with funny friends: people who love cracking jokes, people who like to kid a lot, people who quip the funniest punchlines in town. I love those people! I love people who make me laugh! And I do love to laugh!

But I guess there was a time when I was that person. Someone who seemed carefree, optimistic, and generally, positive about life. I remember her. I remember that girl he used to know. I did love to laugh, even at myself. I loved to do silly stuff, likes singing on top of the billiard table with the billiard stick as microphone, making weird faces at my friends, "ice skating" in front of the UST Pay High building, etc. It just seems so long ago. And it's not really easy to forget what happened in between.

Although I see glimpses of her now, though quite strangely in a different body, nevertheless, I believe her spirit lives on...in my son and in my daughter. And maybe someday they could teach me how to be funny once again.

a whole new universe

2006-08-22T05:07:00.000+08:00

Illustration of Earth, Planets and Sun

I never thought it would happen in my lifetime, but last week, I read the most surprising and exciting news. the scientific community is thinking of adding three planets to our solar system.

"The universe really is expanding _ astronomers are proposing to rewrite the textbooks to say that our solar system has 12 planets rather than the nine memorized by generations of schoolchildren.

Much-maligned Pluto would remain a planet _ and its largest moon plus two other heavenly bodies would join Earth's neighborhood _ under a draft resolution to be formally presented Wednesday to the International Astronomical Union, the arbiter of what is and isn't a planet.

"Yes, Virginia, Pluto is a planet," quipped Richard Binzel, a professor of planetary science at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

The proposal could change, however: Binzel and the other nearly 2,500 astronomers from 75 nations meeting in Prague to hammer out a universal definition of a planet will hold two brainstorming sessions before they vote on the resolution next week. But the draft comes from the IAU's executive committee, which only submits recommendations likely to get two-thirds approval from the group."

(Read full article here)

What does this mean? one thing, it would definitely affect our science curriculum content and that means, it would affect books, internet websites, encyclopedias, charts, etc. (read article on Adding Planets Means New Textbooks, Toys)

But nothing's definite yet. As of this moment, I think the IAU is still deliberating on the issue. And some astronomers are not too keen on this new definition of a planet. (read Michael Brown)

P.S.
One of the proposed additions is UB313, a planet discovered by Michael Brown, which he nicknamed Xena. UB313 kind of reminded me of the planet of Antoine de Saint-Exupery's "The Little Prince", which was actually Asteroid B612. ;-)

are you a crayon breaker?

2006-08-16T20:08:00.000+08:00

Excerpt from "32 Traits of Creative People"

BROKEN CRAYONS and the act of BREAKING CRAYONS represent creativeness, creative thinking and the efforts of creative people to me.

How often do you BREAK CRAYONS? Lets take a look. The following is a short exercise that will help you discover how easily you BREAK CRAYONS.

Are You a Crayon BREAKER?

Please click here for the complete article by Robert Alan Black, Ph.D.

Atlantis Revisited

2006-08-14T14:26:00.000+08:00

When I wrote the poem "Atlantis", it had a different title, or rather, it had no title. It was just one of those poems I create when the Muse drops by for a surprise visit and I just have to make room for her or else miss out on a wonderful creative spark. So, it was a delightful surprise (again!) for me when I saw the Anthony Hopkins movie, "Hearts in Atlantis" and I was "gripped" by it.

Sir Anthony Hopkins delivered a superb performance as Ted Brautigan, the mysterious loner who befriended Bobby Garfield (played by Anton Yelchin)and his two friends, Carol and Sully.

It is a film about one man's memories of a childhood summer made even more memorable by his friendship with Ted, his first kiss with his best friend, mysteries discovered, standing up to his mother, and moving out of their home and onto a future yet to be revealed.

It is based on a Stephen King story, which is not entitled "Hearts in Atlantis", but "Low Men in Yellow Coats." (For more trivia, click here.)

There are many wonderful quotes from the movie, my favorites are:

Ted Brautigan: Sometimes when you're young, you have moments of such happiness, you think you're living in someplace magical, like Atlantis must have been? then we grow up and our hearts break into two.

Bobby Garfield: It's funny how when you're a kid, a day can last forever. Now, all these years seem just like a blink.

(For more quotes, click here.)

So have you revisited your own Atlantis lately?

From genius genes to tyrannosaur musings

2006-08-05T19:11:00.000+08:00

For bookwormsters like me, sometimes we get tired of reading the same kind of books. Like last month, I wrote in my blog that after reading 3 or 4 books on women's issues, I felt my brain was toast! So to get the brain synapses reactivated, I started reading "chick-lit" - light, usually funny stories with women protagonists - these books are not really award-winning literature but they are a great fun to read! It was good to laugh out loud once in a while.

So if you want some alternative reading for your cool, rainy nights, here are some recommendations from the writers of Science News. I haven't read any of these yet but some of the titles really sound interesting and intriguing.

BookList

Do share if you find these titles. Happy reading!

it's not my fault-line!

2006-08-04T09:55:00.000+08:00

I learned a truly valuable lesson the other day; and that is, before you buy a piece of property (house and/or lot) in Metro Manila (or any part of the Philippines, for that matter) make sure to drop by the PHIVOLCS office along C.P. Garcia Avenua in UP Diliman. Go to the Geologic Disaster Awareness and Preparedness Division office (2nd floor) and ask questions, specifically about the Valley Fault System (VFS).

The VFS or Marikina Valley Fault is a system of faultlines that stretch across the eastern side of Metro Manila (it goes as far as San Jose del Monte in the North, and Muntinlupa in the South). "The Marikina Valley Fault, located in the eastern part of the study area, is the fault expected to cause the largest impact in the metropolis. Recent studies revealed that the Valley Fault caused at least 2, perhaps 4, earthquakes within the last 1400 years, the approximate return period is less than 500 years, and no event along the West Valley Fault is not known after the 16th century." (source: MMEIRS)

Actually, you could ask your broker or the developer of your property to obtain an active fault certification (or an assessment of hazards in areas adjacent to active faults and active volcanoes. According to the geologist I talked to, the rule is there should be a set-back of at least 5 meters from both sides of the existing fault to be on the safe side, so to speak. Otherwise, your structure (building or house) could suffer from the fault ruptures. But I also gathered that it is not a guarantee that you won't be affected by a movement in the VFS. According to the MMEIRS, "IF the VFS moves, a M7.2 earthquake CAN be generated. This could produce ground shaking up to Intensity VIII or IX in Metro Manila." So it is important that the structures we build are capable of withstanding this kind of event.

I was looking at the VFS map and realized that it ran right smack in the middle of the subdivision we were eyeing. To say that I was disappointed is an understatement because I really liked the neighborhood and the price of the property was relatively cheap. But then again the reason why it was soooo affordable was probably because it had a secret: a secret fault.

The VFS has not really exhibited any movement for the past thousands of years so I could be just a little tad paranoid when I imagine an-8 magnitude earthquake totally destroying my dream house while I'm peacefully sleeping on my bed in the middle of the night.

But the Earth is changing; something's up. If you could just be a little bit more aware of what's happening in the world (not just in the Philippines), you would probably notice that the Earth is gearing up for something big. I feel that one cannot really escape the eventuality (or possibility) that even the mighty dinosaurs succumbed to, but at least we could make better informed decisions about our lives for the time we have left.

things women hate

2006-08-02T04:59:00.000+08:00

Inspired by the Penman's "Things Men Hate".

1. Don't leave you dirty laundy on the floor. And then complain that you don't have any clean undershirts to wear. If it's not in the hamper, it's not gonna get washed, dahling.

2. Don't ask me very important questions regarding our finances when I'm busy watching a video or when I'm blogging. Can't you see I'm doing very important work? I mean, I need a break from all the work in this house, you know? So even though I don't have a sign that says, "On A Break, Come Back in 15 Minutes", when I don't answer, take a hint.

3. Don't ask me to get patis or cut up tomatoes for you when I'm already settled in my chair at the breakfast table. Geez, can't you just do that yourself? Okay, okay, of course, I sometimes ask you to get my ketchup, but I already set the table, can't you at least do something to help me out sometimes.

4. Don't ask me where your shoes are. If you did not put them inside the shoe rack, they must have walked out on you at last.

5. Don't take this the wrong way. I love you, I just hate the things you do sometimes. We both hate each other sometimes, I think. We're only human. We do our best.

Atlantis

2006-07-25T17:46:00.000+08:00

There is a longing that never ceases
Like a ship that never docks too long
For no port ever becomes home
To a citizen of the restless ocean.

Constant in its change, the sea
Remains a singular certainty
In a journey with
No compass,
No maps,
but,
One hope,
One dream.

There is a longing that never ceases
In the silence of a million stars
I hear it whisper ever so softly,
“Seek and you shall find
the Atlantis of your heart.”

waiting out a storm

2006-07-25T17:04:00.000+08:00

one came back, the other gone.
one continues, the other ends.
outside, there is a certain peace.
inside, a storm is raging.

forces of nature are pulling,
tugging, me out of my skin.
the ties that bind remain taut
and tight, strong enough
to fasten me to my world of normalcy.

there is no time i do not think of this -
i am afraid i will always remember this
phenomenon.

in memoriam: vincent

2006-07-25T13:45:00.000+08:00

Journal entry: March 7, 1997

Self Portrait with Straw Hat

LUST FOR LIFE: Although his name is recognized all over the world now, his story is not unfamiliar to us. It is an ancient story of humanity: of longing, of loneliness, of hunger for love. His was a lonely heart, even at the beginning. Desperately wanting to be of use to the world, that when he found the one thing he can do best and be of use to people - his life was consumed by it. He has produced hundreds of artworks, borne out of his pain, his understanding of the human condition, his blood, his tears and ultimately though I think, not tragically, his own life. He pushed himself to the boundaries of sanity to create, or rather recreate life in his paintings. To me, he has lived a lonely, yet fulfilled life, but he was not there to enjoy it.

***

My Favorite Paintings

Cafe at Night

Starry Night

Sunflowers

***

Letters, Letters, Letters

It is rather enlightening to find another door to Vincent's genius mind besides looking at his paintings. He was an avid letter writer and these letters offer a great insight to his artwork, inspiration, feelings, and insecurties.

"It must be good to die in the knowledge that one has done some truthful work and to know that, as a result, one will live on in the memory of at least a few and leave a good example for those who come after. A work that is good may not last forever, but the thought expressed by it will, and the work itself will surely survive for a very long time, and those who come later can do no more than follow in the footsteps of such predecessors and copy their example." - Letter from Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh, Amsterdam, 3 March 1878

***

Vincent Van Gogh died on July 29, 1890.

the kiss

2006-07-21T19:08:00.000+08:00

"I have the gift of neither the spoken nor the written word, especially if I have to say something about myself or my work. Whoever wants to know something about me -as an artist, the only notable thing- ought to look carefully at my pictures and try and see in them what I am and what I want to do."
Gustav Klimt

The walls
Come falling down,
Brick by brick,
One by one.
My secret garden exposed.
One kiss and
I come undone.

Afterthought

2006-07-21T03:27:00.000+08:00

At a cafe by the moonlight,
Art was a witness when
She crossed the invisible line
and held your arm for a time,
She read her thoughts on the crumpled pieces of paper:
Her feeble attempt to put the puzzle together.

You sipped your Irini and listened quietly,
as she heard the voice of reason in her head:
"The affair has ended;
Nothing lies ahead."

You may never feel her soft, sun-kissed skin again,
Nor she the blister on your right palm from working in the garden.
She may never come this close to you once more
To notice two pox marks above your lips,
Yet she will always remember the melancholy in your eyes
As she said "I love you" for the last time.

Will you remember the photographs you looked at:
the old woman with a contoured face,
the sunsets on the beaches of Boracay,
the view from the top of the mountains of Sagada,
the cat that was never there at dawn,
while the moon was looking on...

Will you remember all of them?
Maybe not, but it does not matter.

Was all that was to be understood between them,
After all that had came to pass
And all that was unsaid remained
A trove of secret longings in their hearts,
Have come to a reckoning beyond their imagining?

As they walked across the expanse of the atrium,
What forces of nature caused the two pilgrims
To refuse to look at each other’s eyes,
To deny their hands' needless longing to touch?
They were afraid of their own powerlessness
to Passion's last plea for redemption.

I wish my faith is stronger than my reason.
Yet how could I believe in Passion or Devotion?
Will anyone ever understand that the distance
between two souls who loved each other
Deeper than the abyss of their cheating hearts
is, but, an illusion?

the trap

2006-07-19T03:29:00.000+08:00

it was a trap,
but was i really a victim,
tempted by the sweetness
of a delicate sanctuary?

i fear he would devour me
after he has sucked
all that is good
in my soul, in my heart,
until i am spent and wasted
and alive no more.

how can i escape this
entanglement, this dreadful
waiting for my death
or for a chance that he
may not be the enemy after all
but my redeemer?

do i have any power at all
to disengage myself
from the web of half-truths,
of lies i made myself believe?

i fear no death is graver than love unreturned.

rapture

2006-07-19T03:19:00.000+08:00

The First Kiss

sitting by myself
before the twelfth hour
a voice disturbed my thoughts
rapture was my reward
right in front of me
oh! what a lovely sight you are.

catnap

2006-07-19T01:53:00.000+08:00

Cat Nap II

nap all you want,
my dear kitty cat.
your task is done,
the mice have gone.
tomorrow is another day.

of cordon bleus and BlackBerrys

2006-07-05T10:36:00.000+08:00

The books I've been reading for the past month or so have been about some serious stuff, mostly about being a woman: Simone de Beauvoir's "The Second Sex", Adrienne Rich's "Of Woman Born", Germain Greer's "The Female Eunuch", etc...And truth to be told, my head's about to explode from too much information and exploration of the female psyche. I need a break. Anybody got a KitKat?

So, it was a great relief when Marix (bless her!)lent me a copy of Sophie Kinsella's "The Undomestic Goddess" three days ago. A few months ago, I tried to read Sophie's Shophaholic book (the first one of the series) but sadly I couldn't really relate to the main character, probably because I'm not really addicted to shopping. The only thing I really splurge on is books, so I didn't finish the book and just grabbed a copy of Helen Fielding's Bridget JOnes's Diary, which was really funny despite the fact that when I was reading it I could hear and see Renee Zellwegger's British accented voice in my head. Oh well.

Anyway, back to the Undomestic Goddess. I really wanted to read this book last April, when due to unavoidable circumstances, I was housebound and had to be the domestic goddess of my own household. I probably wouldn't have had the time then to read it so maybe the timing's just right now.

I love Samantha (aka The Undomestic Goddess). She reminds me of a friend of mine, with her powersuits, BlackBerry, and penchant for cancelling dinner appointments with her friends. (Oh, but I love my friend despite of that).

I'm no lawyer (Samantha is) but I kind of know her world: the fast-paced, competitive, driven, corporate rat race...as I was part of it myself a few years back. And like her, I've given it all up, and not without a trace of regret here and there, but overall, I love this new, slow-paced, unglamorous life of a domestic goddess (a.k.a. full time homemaker, wife and mom). Yes, there are trade-offs, I couldn't possibly afford all the new high-tech gadgets around (although I do have on loan a NOkia 9210i), my outfits are mostly jeans & t-shirts now, and I hardly wear any make-up, and my bank account is really neglible, and yet, when I look at my life real hard it is exactly what I wanted...give or take a few more bucks in the bank...;)

I am one of those people who still have the time to look out the window...and see and be amazed at this messed-up but still wonderful world of ours. I have the time to wait for the sunrise and sunset. I have the time to see a trail of ants passing by (really!). I have time to read books. And best of all, I have the time to spend with my two kids, who in a few years would probably have no time for me.

Life is good enough...can't have everything I want (a car, a laptop, a bigger house, money to travel, etc.)...but I have everything I need right now.

on a creative journey

2006-07-03T04:48:00.000+08:00

Two years ago, I came upon a wonderful book by Julia Cameron, "The Artist's Way". I started doing The Morning Pages and The Artist's Date as tools in my creative recovery but I have not finished the book. To borrow from Gilda Radner, "there's always something" that needs to be done first: meals to cook, kids to take care of, errands to do, etc...Yes , I am now officially creatively blocked again.

Yet...there is hope...for the past year, I have been receiving emails from Chris Dumiere's website , "Creativity Portal". There I have found kindred souls on the same journey to finding our authentic creative life. There are those who have paved the way for us...armed with their courage and belief in their artist child. Hopefully, as I read their stories I may also be inspired to reclaim my place as a true artist.

***

One such artist is Shelley, as I read her Intuitive Creativity blog I am also inspired to start thinking out of the box...to start creating...to be unafraid...because it doesn't matter what had happened to us...the important thing is to remember who we really are and what we are really meant to do with our life.

As Julia Cameron said, "Creativity is God's gift to us. Using our creativity is our gift back to God."

baby blues

2006-07-01T11:04:00.000+08:00

as a mom of two young kids, i sometimes get overwhelmed with all the stuff i need to do: think of a weekly menu, remember doctor's appointments, help out with my eldest's assignments, play with them, remember to read a story (when i'm not too exhausted), bathe them, etc. etc.

so when i discovered BABY BLUES, the comic strip created by two young DADS, Jerry and Kirk, i found myself LAUGHING (and crying because of too much laughter) my HEART out! I found myself relating to Wanda and Daryl misadventures in the parenthood arena. And saw my kid's in Zoe & Hammie.

so to all the moms (and dads) out there who are doing their best in raising their precocious kids, let BABY BLUES chase your blues away!

Baby BLues Homepage: http://www.babyblues.com/index.php

to speak or not to speak...

2006-06-20T15:08:00.000+08:00

last December 2005, i finished reading "Possession" by A.S. Byatt. it amazed me how familiar the last couple of pages seemed to me, esp. with regard to Roland's feelings: of being peripheral, a watcher.

i have felt that way on some occasions with friends who seem to have more connection or in common with each other than with myself. and at times, i have neither the will not the enthusiasm to engage in the conversations wholeheartedly. i have often felt compelled to remain in my silence and sit and watch and listen to all the others exchange views about everything they could possibly think. not that i didn't have any opinions nor do i think their views are superior to mine. i do sometimes wanted to explain how such a situation like a lovers' quarrel would mean to me, but i find myself unable to extricate myself from the self-imposed silence.

***

once, a friend finally implored me to say something about another friend's plight in the arena of love, which i do consider myself to have had some personal experience, whether pleasant, heartbreaking or otherwise, and when i finally spoke, they were aghast with my bluntness, with the directness of speech, without frivolities, or the sympathies that was usually accorded to the supposedly aggrieved party. whereas i was speaking only the truth as i saw it then, i fear i may have made myself look boastful or proud.

it happened at a time when i was of the opinion that petty dramas between men and women render themselves as useless lamentations that will eventually have no real conclusion, except the one true thing that both parties understood their situation from different perspectives, each according to their own circumstance and state of mind.

no one has a monopoly of the truth in a relationship. each relationship is as unique as a snowflake or a sparkle of raindrop on a leaf or a flower in a meadow. although one could find repeating patterns with which to guide you, in the end, each of us is alone in the reckoning of our decisions or indecisions.

the memory of that moment kinda reminded me of a john mayer song ("my stupid mouth").

My stupid mouth
Has got me in trouble
I said too much again
To a date over dinner yesterday
And I could see
She was offended

I'm never speaking up again
It only hurts me
I'd rather be a mystery
Than she desert me

Oh I'm never speaking up again
Starting now

on becoming a writer

2006-06-19T04:53:00.000+08:00

i remember writing this essay on my old journal (which was part of the lot that got thrown in the dump!) about my dream of becoming a writer. in those days, i was scared shit of showing any of my work to anyone. i wrote poems, essays, short stories. not that they were Pulitzer Prize material but i think i really short-changed myself then for not even trying out for the school paper. because of my well-placed, albeit unfounded, fear of rejection, i missed out on so many opportunities of getting read by millions (!) or worse, getting published.

and now, i'm in the middle of my life (hopefully) and i say to my Censors (those nasty thoughts that kept me cowering with fear):

"Get the Hell out of my way!"

i guess, i'm really thankful for this blogging phenomenon (thanks to my real good friend Heinz for paving the way), like the Penman said: "...writers write to be read." and although i dream the dream of getting my work published someday, for now, i write here, i get the thoughts out in the open, i expose myself (literarily, of course), i leave my mark.

***
For tips on writing, the Penman suggested these sights:

http://www.oonyeoh.squarespace.com/column-writing-tips/
http://watkins.gospelcom.net/manu.htm

Bahay Mo Ba'to?

2006-06-13T23:06:00.000+08:00

Last Tuesday night, I was doing some ironing (hehe...still in my domestic goddess mode, then) and I decided to turn on the tv. This show was on at GMA7. And before I knew it, I was laughing so hard my insides were hurting so bad. It was really late and the whole household was asleep. I really wanted to laugh out real loud but I was afraid the neighbors might wonder if there were hyenas lurking in our village. ;)

The jokes and the situations weren't really anything new (there's a gay guy oggling for a cute straight guy's attention, a dumb-blonde oggling for the gay's affection, two sisters whose penchant for talking in English literally can make your blood run dry (as in duduguin kayo!) and of course, two siblings fighting over a house (and some other stuffs).

I can't really re-tell the jokes; I'm really like Marlin (from Finding Nemo) when it comes to telling jokes, you just have to stay up late one Tuesday night to find out for yourself.

But, it must be the timing. In that episode, I think the actors really hit their marks perfectly. It was a great way to end an, otherwise, ho-hum boring day in the life of an ordinary person like me.

what will you create?

2006-06-09T16:12:00.000+08:00

I was watching "The Planet" on Net 25 (actually, I was working on the computer and it just so happens that the tv was on, too.) and saw them feature "Zeum", a non-profit multimedia arts and technology museum in the San Francisco Bay Area.

One of Zeum's programs is Clay Animation: where the students learn about stop-motion animation, make their own clay characters and then produce their own movie using multi-media tools. Wow, that's really cool, isn't it? Kids could also create their own News Broadcast, a Digital Quilt, and a Music Video!

perspective

2006-06-07T18:21:00.000+08:00

"We imagine that we remember things as they are, while in fact all we carry into the future are fragments which reconstruct a wholly illusory past. The first death we witness will always be a murmur of voices down a corridor and a clock falling silent in the darkened room, the end of love is forever two cigarettes in a saucer and a white door closing." - John Banville, "Birchwood"

I realize that I really don't see everyone totally, at all. When I try to remember a moment, it is always a fragment of a picture: a wrinkle in a corner of the eye, a chicken pox mark on the upper lip, a bruise in the hand. It's as if the lens of my thoughts are always closing in, zeroing in on a detail that may have no significance at all in the grand scheme of things.

I could not, try as I might, remember the face.

why does every f___ poem mention the ocean?

2006-06-07T17:59:00.000+08:00

Now, now, don't panic, that really didn't come from me. It's a line from "Half-Life" by Erica Jong. It was kinda liberating to read that, but I still couldn't bear to write the f-word here, lest, someday my dear kids might read this.

But I have been wondering about the same thing, why does the ocean get mentioned so often in poems? At least, in mine, they do. In another blog, I actually wrote that I feel an affinity to the sea, although, for the life of me, I could barely swim in a pool.

What is it about the sea or the ocean that draws us in?

"The ocean disentangles the netted mind." - John O'Donohue

"Down here, by the sea, there is a special quality to the silence of the night." - John Banville

domestic goddess hiatus

2006-06-05T15:53:00.000+08:00

i haven't been posting anything on this blog for the past two months, which prompted my avid readers (two to be exact...hahaha) to ask what's up with me nowadays?

a lot, actually. but it's mostly domestic stuff. haven't got any househelp lately. so i've been swamped with chores and errands and family obligations. at the end of the day, i'm really beat. i can't stay up long enough even to watch "jewel in the palace". and still the house is MESS!!!!

but today God finally answered my prayer...thank you...i hope this one stays with us for the long haul...

Daddy

2006-04-06T01:05:00.000+08:00

Dear Daddy,

Hi, it's your birthday today. I remembered as I always do because exactly one week from now, it's my turn to grow one year older. (kinda self-centered, no?)

When I was younger, I always wondered what it would have felt to celebrate our birthdays so close to each other. And since you're an Aries just like me, I also wondered if we could have been really close friends since we would be so much alike in so many ways, or if we would have argued and collided all the time like two locked-horn rams? hehehe...

These past few days I have been wondering if there is still someone I could call my best friend. Everybody is just so busy with their lives these days. And I haven't really been around much for them either. Still I hope they do remember. Do you get lonely if we forget your birthday? I wonder about that too sometimes.

I miss you. I wish you could see all the wonderful things that has happened in my life. I know you would be very happy too.

Happy birthday, Daddy!

Arrivederci,
Your daughter

dead (tired) feet walking

2006-04-02T08:31:00.000+08:00

just got back from singapore and my feet badly need a foot massage! have no time to write a proper travel log so just view some pictures.

Images from Singapore

i'm gonna wear my travelin' pants, at last

2006-03-28T02:42:00.000+08:00

In a few hours, I'm gonna fly to Singapore with my mom and sister. Yup! This momma is gonna have a vacation. Needless to say, I am excited. My last trip outside the Pinas was back in 1999! Although I would have loved to bring the whole caboodle (kids & hubby) along, I've been looking forward to spending some time away from the domestic scenery. (Besides, if all goes well, we may have a real family vacation next month at HK.)

images from my childhood: beaches

2006-03-23T16:46:00.000+08:00

I love the beach! If I had a choice between living in Manila or living in the coastal towns of Zambales or Ilocos, I would choose the latter. However, my life is here; it is circumscribed by obligations to my family, my work and my friends in this city. Moreover, I am not ready to give up the comforts of cable tv, the excitement of shopping malls, and the overall ease of living despite the turbulent economic conditions we are currently facing.

Nevertheless, the beach beckons me, at least, every summer. God blessed this country of ours with miles and miles of sandy beaches, it might take a lifetime to even experience half of them.

My mom grew up in a tiny town named Pulot along the coast of Batangas Bay. She lived near the ocean for half of her life, leaving it all to pursue her college dreams in Manila and raising her own family later on. When my father died, I believed my mom longed to go back to her roots, to where she grew up, to be with her father and siblings, but of course she couldn’t let us live there. She knew it would prove to be difficult. Instead she insisted on the next best thing: that we visit her hometown every December and summer vacations.

Traveling to Batangas City from Manila took around two hours by bus. From there on, we would take a scary and bumpy jeepney ride along the dusty, rough, and zigzagged roads going to Pulot. It was a terribly unpleasant journey, if not for the anticipation of something really awesome and beautiful around the last bend: an unobstructed view of the ocean. It never ceased to amaze me. The ocean was sometimes like a sheet of shiny blue paper that reflected the bluest daytime sky and sometimes it was a troubled, chaotic cauldron of unrelenting forces of nature. It stirred emotions of awe and humility, agitation and trepidation in me. The moment I saw the ocean, in whatever state of activity it was in, whether tranquil or turbulent, was the singular moment that made the exhausting trip seemed trivial.

We would stay in my aunt’s house in Pulot for a few days where Time seemed to stand still or go so slowly. The day seemed to stretch for hours on end. I don’t particularly remember being in a hurry during those times, one could take walks along the beach, pick up a few pretty shells, throw some rocks into the ocean and see how many times it skims the water’s surface, take a dip (weather permitting) in the sea, make toy boats out of dried coconuts and see whose boat goes the farthest without capsizing, and lie on a bamboo bed (papag) under the sampaloc tree.

We would only leave our little beach playground when my mom or my aunt calls us to eat merienda or lunch. Our favorite native food was the suman, made of sticky rice and wrapped in banana leaves, which I learned later on was the reason for the suman’s green coloring on the surface. You could eat it as it is but I was partial to putting latik (coconut shavings that were fried and caramelized) on it and having a cup of kapeng barako (brewed coffee) on the side.

Sometimes at night, we would wait for the fishermen to go out into the sea, some of whom were my older cousins, and turn on their lamps (Alladin, they called them, which I suspect is the brand name of the torch) to attract the fish. They don’t do this on a full moon because the fish get confused with the light coming from the moon. As a child, I was fascinated by all this activity. It seemed so romantic; to catch fish this way was like poetry in motion. It was not just casting a net and be done with it. One must have the patience and tenacity to withstand nature and human competition.

Life was never really easy for the people of Pulot. Most of my relatives have migrated to the city proper, leaving behind the sand, the beach, the sea. I wonder if they miss it as much as I do.

walking wounded

2006-03-23T15:40:00.000+08:00

One afternoon, I decided to visit one of the biggest bookstores in Manila in an effort to indulge in my loneliness. It was a refuge for a person searching for answers. And from a book entitled “The Beach”, I found this line,

“I carry a lot of scars.”

Instantly, I made the connection.

Each one of us has had scars from various events that happened in the past. I remember a friend from college who got the butt of the guys’ jokes because of her legs, which would not exactly fit a beauty queen’s profile. However, instead of getting depressed about the incident, she proudly claimed that her legs show more character than that of any fashion model. It has scars: marks from falling off a bicycle on her first try; marks from falling down on the pavement while running after her cousins; marks from falling off their window while imitating one of those “superheroes”; and a few more bumps and bruises. They were all there – dark, irregular shapes that formed like a map to her past. Each scar had a story to tell. She would never trade them for perfectly smooth legs.

Personally, that line from “The Beach” fit my own profile as well. I do carry a lot of scars. I have a big one on my forehead from getting sick with the chicken pox, a month into a new relationship (he’s my husband now). For a while, I had a long one, which stretched from my right ankle up to my right hip. A pesky protruding nail caused that minor fatality that ended my bid for Miss Universe (har! har!) And now I have all these small black spots on my legs due to my allergy attacks. (Medical science is the pits. They couldn’t cure me of my allergies and their wonder drugs leave these unsightly imprints all over my body.)

There are visible scars that I shall bear till the end of my lifetime. But there are invisible scars, too. They are invisible to the naked eye but they are there;I could attest to that. It is not the body that carries them but the soul and the spirit.

I heard about these three girls, so much younger that I am. Yet their own abusive father or brother snatched their youth away from them. Their wounds are not of the flesh alone but of the very core of their being.

I, too, bear such scars. Though mine are brought about by different circumstances. When I was a child, a relative of mine laughed at my initial attempt to sing. My heart was crushed. When I tried to get into a science high school and failed miserably, it not only broke my mom’s hopes for me, it also broke my spirit. And when I found my first love and had to let him go, I knew my wounds would never heal.

On hindsight, for a long time, I believe now that I have been walking wounded on the face of the earth, without even being aware of it. Aren’t we all?

memories

2006-03-22T03:42:00.000+08:00

"All these years I've had this story...a story about us...that never really existed...and because of that story, I've kept you framed up on a wall...in a little box of nostalgic moonlight...and in keeping you in that little box was the only way I knew I could really have you..." - George, "The Love Letter"

I've been wondering about this thing called "memory" for some time now. Do our memories really tell the truth about someone or something from our past? Or do our minds play tricks on us sometimes? Can memory ever be objective and unbiased? Or do we have a tendency to amplify our memories of people we loved?

One thing I know for sure is that memory is fleeting, temporal. It can deteriorate or completely disappear, with or without our control.

And maybe God made it that way so that we would not take anything for granted. So that we may live in the present moment, every day, every minute, every second.

remember me

2006-03-10T15:30:00.000+08:00

i shall not see your face
nor hear your voice,
nor feel your hand,
nor taste your kiss,
yet i know it is of an angel,
but you have gone home
much too soon.

will you recognize my voice
when you hear me speak
in the great halls
of His kingdom?

will you remember how much
i loved you
before we even met?

hope is my only companion in this loneliness.
faith is my only shield from fear.
love is my only gift for you.

remember me, my baby.

- for a friend on this day of sadness

images

2006-03-10T05:34:00.000+08:00

last night, as we were eating dinner, i heard a weird sound coming from outside our house. i'm not very good at describing it, but i figured that it must be a cricket. (by the way, what's that in tagalog? kuliglig ba?) although i did trace its location (which was the drainage in the garage), i didn't really see the creature that was making the sound. (it was strange to hear that sound in the city, i've always associated that with the countryside.)

when we were young, my mom always took us to her hometown in batangas during the summer and christmas holidays. since there's no electricity, most of our activities were done in the daytime. after supper, there's no tv to watch, no karaoke to sing along with. it was hot and humid sometimes and it was dark outside. one of the things people love to do at night is "porching" (a term i read recently in country living magazine): friends and family gather in the porch ("balcon") and talk just about anything.

and on one of those evenings, i remember seeing these tiny twinkling lights on the tree in front of my grandfather's house. and my mom told me that they were actually fireflies. i guess you could say that it was a magical sight to behold for a young girl because i have never forgotten that image. and sadly, i never saw another one again. for i am a city girl and the lights that i see at night are mostly neon signs, street lights, and the fluorescent and incandescent light bulbs in the houses of my neighborhood.

when my Mamay passed away many years back, most of my aunts and uncles also migrated to the city of batangas, so our later sojourns were unlike those we had in Ilijan or Pulot. although they still like to talk in the evenings, gone are the twinkling fireflies, gone are the incessant sound of the crickets, gone is the magical image of my childhood. it's just plain talk.

**********************************************************************

going back to the present cricket incident: as i sat back down at the dinner table, i made a comment to my husband, "it's just ronnie cricket!" (get the pun?) and i suddenly remembered this has-been actor ronnie ricketts. now, i am not an action movie fan, much less a pinoy action movie fan, but i just realized that he's not been making movies recently. which prompted my husband to comment: "san ka nakakita ng action star na stick-to-one sa asawa niya?" you see, ronnie has not been linked to any other woman inside or outside showbiz except to his wife, the former singer, mariz. ok, that's as far as i know, i'm not really into this showbiz gossip stuff, you know. ;)

and that's how our discussion over image came to be. case in point: the bad boy of philippine cinema, robin padilla. his popularity and notoriety was at its peak, when he made the "baby ama" movie. he shaved his head. a lot of prison inmates, boys and men from tondo and other parts of the city shaved their heads. he was idolized. at that time, i think he was involved with the most beautiful women in the country. and a lot more would have volunteered to have his baby. (am i giving his virility too much credit?) then, he got into deep trouble and was sent to prison.

flash forward: he was released from prison a few years ago. and now, robin has embraced "the peacemaker" image. he has converted to islam. has been projecting an image of a family man (although his legitimate family is thousands of miles away in australia). he's basically a "good guy" now. so is he still popular? not really.

so i asked my husband, does this mean that filipinos like their action heroes to be bad because they condone this kind of behavior? or worse, idolize this kind of behavior? if yes, why? i heard somewhere that movies are a form of escape for the masses, which is why they are most likely drawn to characters/actors/stars who are larger-than-life, someone who fights for their cause (whether in the reel or real world), and someone who could do the things they could only dream of.

still, too bad for good guys like ronnie ricketts...they are set aside and nearly forgotten...images of them fading from our memories...

no matter what or who we are

2006-03-07T15:54:00.000+08:00

Reese Witherspoon’s acceptance speech at the 78th Oscars is bound to be quoted for days (or years) to come. In that short sentence, in which she actually quoted June Carter, she has struck a chord in the hearts of men and women across the globe: “I’m just trying to matter.” That is a common thread that binds us all: the wish to be valued for who we are. Utimately, to be loved for who we are.

Unlike Reese and those in society who have power, fortune and fame, I am an ordinary person. A common woman. My circle of influence shall not span across the Philippines, much less the entire world. And yet, like June Carter, I try to be of value, which I hope I am, especially to my family.

So when I heard a husband talked about loving his wife because she is the mother of their children, I became a little afraid of the same prospect for myself. And it is not without good reason. For I have seen men who are so enamored with their children that they have relegated their wives as mere postscripts to the fact. She has brought forth the seeds of his legacy, and thus, the deed is done. Some men, of course, institute their wives to the caring and raising of their children, another one of the reasons for her usefulness. The man, generally, earns the prime source of income for the family, but even if the woman is productively employed, her main obligation is still their home, her husband and the children.

As I voiced this concern to a friend, I was reminded that “motherhood is the noblest of all occupations. So it is nothing to be afraid of or ashamed of, if your husband values you or loves you because of that.” It didn’t surprise me to hear my friend say that, being a man himself. No matter how in touch he was with his feminine side, it would still take a woman to understand what a woman feels.

What I wanted him to understand was that I wanted my husband to see me, not as someone who would serve his purposes, whatever they may be, but see me as someone he loves for no other reason than my being who I am.

Yes, I am now a proud mother of two children. Yes, I am now a wife. Yes, I am a partner in this institution called marriage. But I am also a woman. I have my own thoughts, dreams, ideals, principles, and most of all, emotions. I am my own person, separate and independent of other human beings.

In “The Stations of Solitude,” Alice Koller presented her idea of loving:
Loving a man and his loving me would have to be of the same sort: having no purpose beyond our loving one another…I would not need him, nor he me. We would only want each other: want to be part of one another’s lives, want one another’s good, want to be one another’s best friend, want one another sexually as the supervening benison on our being one another’s best friend.

Having said that, it is also imperative that before one enters into marriage, before one becomes a mother, one must become “a complete person.” For our spouses nor our children have the obligation to fulfill us, it is ours, and ours alone.

A scene from the movie “Jerry Maguire” comes to my mind: A deaf-mute couple was in the elevator with Jerry and Dorothy. And when they left, Jerry wondered what the guy told (using sign language) his girlfriend. And Dorothy said, “You complete me.” I have to admit that when I saw that movie, that particular scene and the scene where Jerry comes back to Dorothy, I thought that that was how love should and would be. It was hopelessly romantic of me to believe that it was true. Hopeless being the operative word there.

Now, I still believe in love, but not the kind that asks for dependency and possession. D. H. Lawrence was quoted to have said that, “marriage should be a combining of two whole, independent existences, not a retreat, an annexation, a flight, a remedy.”

A. S. Byatt wrote in “Possession”, “how true it was that one needed to be seen by others to be sure of one’s own existence.” And how true it is, especially in an intimate relationship such as marriage. It is the burden that we put into the institution that strains the exact thread that connects us.

But that is how it is. We need to be seen. We need to be loved. We need to be loved for who we are. We need to matter. No matter what or who we are.

may the force be with you...

2006-03-03T10:31:00.000+08:00

found this neat site thru Filipino Librarian...just for fun.

soulcraftwriter --

[noun]:

A master blogger

'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

so who do you look like?

2006-03-02T03:38:00.000+08:00

Just for kicks...I tried this site My Heritage and saw my look-alike. I was surprised, but very flattered, even though we only had a similarity rating of 56%. I think, I look more like Christina Ricci. What do you think?

Erica Jong & Half-Lives

2006-03-01T16:16:00.000+08:00

On my second visit to Bound Bookshop, I chanced upon a woman with blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes on the cover of a paperback book. It was a book of poems by a poet named Erica Jong. And the blue-eyed woman was Erica Jong herself. It was love at first sight. I loved her even before I read her poems. Although when I browsed the book and read some of her poems at random, I closed the book and forgot about her for awhile.

Then, one unusually quiet morning, when the kids and my husband were sleeping late, I decided to have an early breakfast of garlic rice, eggs, luncheon meat and Erica Jong's poems.

I read them aloud, taking full advantage of my early morning solitude. And when I came to read the "Prologue/The Evidence" from the book "Half-Lives", I unraveled and wept endlessly.

(As far as I can recall, there were only two poems that have really moved me to tears. Sad to say, I have no idea where to find those two poems now. One was written by a good friend who could not remember where she wrote that poem: it would take an exploration of her stacks of boxes in her storage room, reading every piece of paper, which requires time and patience, both of which she could not muster at the moment. She assured me, though, that if she did write it on her journal, she would find it and give it to me. So I am praying for that miracle.

Finding the other poem would take more than a miracle, though. I read it when I was still in college (which was eons ago), in the Sunday Inquirer. Can't remember the date, the poem, the poet. All I remember was the effect it had on me. It was heartbreaking and my heart was broken then, so I took it as sympathetic to my plight. It spoke to me; it spoke of my pain. It knew. That was all I needed then. )

Erica Jong wrote:
"Why does life need evidence
of life?
We disbelieve it
even as we live."

What evidence do I have that those two poems existed? I have no physical proof. Nothing to show for. I could not even remember the words. All I have is the memory of what I felt about them. And even memory is fleeting, temporal. In a few years, I may get Alzheimer's, and forget every thing about myself or life. So maybe by writing about it, setting it down in print, in black and white, I have asked for forgiveness of my carelessness, of my taking for granted the temporal nature of things on earth, of my inability to remember: I ached. I cried. I was touched. Maybe that is evidence enough.)

I have no photograph of you.
At times I hardly can believe in you.
Except this ache,
this longing in my gut,
this emptiness which theorizes you
because if there is emptiness this deep,
there must be fullness somewhere.
(from "Prologue/The Evidence", Erica Jong)

The Seed

2006-02-28T22:36:00.000+08:00

You were a seed planted with love.
They gave you roots to keep you stable.
They were the trellises for your growing vines
To lean on as you stretch
Your most beautiful arms
To the sky.
Reach!
Extend!
"We are here," they say,
"To hold you together."
Do not be afraid if you break a stem
or if a leaf falls.
For the leaf will become another
Dream the earth will fulfill.

For Sparkie

after drowning in caffeine...

2006-02-09T05:03:00.000+08:00

Today, after drinking 12 cups of Mocha Frapuccino, 4 cups of Peppermint Café Mocha, 3 cups of Peppermint Hot Chocolate, 1 cup of Crème Brulee Frappuccino, and 1 cup Toffee Nut Latte (whew!), I finally received the much-sought-after, almost-out-of-stock, unbelievably-late-released Limited Edition 2006 Starbucks Coffee Planner.

I can’t believe I fell for this merchandising/publicity hype and drowned myself in all that caffeine, but I did, and you know what, I love it! The planner, that is.

What makes a planner a really good one? Aesthetically, the Starbucks Planner is quite simple really, even plain-looking. Very minimalist. It’s hard-bound, the covers are colored with a shade of espresso (a deep, dark, brownish color), cream-colored pages for the calendar, with the Starbucks’ theme embossed in the front cover “find your favorite”, which is probably why each month has a featured drink (for January, it’s Grande Double Espresso Frapuccino Blended Coffee, for February, it’s Hazelnut Caramel Mocha, etc…) and an accompanying collage/story/trivia for it. In the inside back cover, I found two pockets with coupons (buy one, get one free, etc.) for the coffee lover (really, it’s hard-sell marketing at its peak!).

What I especially like about this planner is that it has ample space for writing, not just your appointments or errands or tasks for the day, but more so, your musings on the most mundane of things. For, isn’t life really lived in the ordinary moments, in the most ordinary of days?

I haven’t tried writing on it, though. I hope the ink doesn’t run. That’s another detail planners have to possess. The paper should be able to soak up the ink from your pen, otherwise, your writing will just be a blur at the slightest touch. And you wouldn’t want to find messy “writings” combined with your, similarly, messy handwriting, right?

So, was it worth it - drinking all that coffee for a plain-looking, trying-to-be-profound-and-poetic-about-coffee planner? For non-coffee lovers or non-Starbucks patrons, it’s probably silly to go through all that just for a planner but then I’m not one of those people, so there’s no point of argument there. As to whether this planner will live up to its promise (of being the womb of imaginative journaling) or just another one of those common planners from your local bookstore (which I would abandon in the middle of the year), we’ll see…tune in next year when we look back at the year that was. For now, let me get some sleep...zzzzzzzzz...

the new lifetime reading plan

2006-01-25T23:33:00.000+08:00

"...they enlarge you...they act like a developing fluid on film...they bring into consciousness what you didn't know you knew...even more than tools of self-enhancement, they are tools of self-discovery..."

"A great book is often such a midwife, delivering to the light what has been coiled like an embryo in the dark depths of the brain."

I found this entry in one of my old journals. I did not write where I got the quote and for the life of me, I could not remember either. (Whoever you are, thank you for writing it.)

I, for one, truly believe it. I love books! I love reading all kinds of books. My perfect day begins and ends with a good read. (I mean, isn't it obvious?)

But more than that, one of my deepest secret wish is to write one. Of course, you have to start somewhere, right. And one book is a good start. Now, if only I could decide what to write?

In the meantime, here's an essay I wrote, which, unfortunately didn't make it in print. Enjoy!

---
THE ESSENTIAL READING GUIDE FOR A WOMAN’S JOURNEY IN LIFE

Recently, I took a poll among my girlfriends. I asked them: “When was the last time you read something for pleasure?” One or two said “A week ago,” another said “Last month,” but most of them fall in the category, “I don’t remember anymore.”

Reading is such a luxury nowadays, at least, for us, women. Mothers, most especially. It does not matter whether one works in a corporate setting or at home, mothers, barely, have the energy nor the time to sit down and read a novel.

I remember, when my eldest child was just a few months old, I tried to finish “The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers” before the movie was shown in the theaters. (I have finished reading “The Fellowship of the Ring” when I was still pregnant.) I would pick up the book when he was taking a nap, read a few pages, put it down when he woke up to feed him, forget about the book until after he has slept at night, by then I could only read a few sentences because I was so exhausted from the day’s work.

For mothers like me, reading a book is an activity that is written at the bottom of our long list of to-dos, if at all. However, I believe it should not be so. In my opinion, one should not stop learning as we go through life, and thus, one should not stop reading. Yes, reading the newspaper headlines or the comics also count, but do not neglect “literature”: novels, short stories, poetry, essays.

Reading the classics, like Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice” or Charles Dicken’s “A Tale of Two Cities” or Nick Joaquin’s “Manila”, often gives us a glimpse of the past, the roots of our society, of our human brethren.

Reading fantasy or science fiction books may sometimes tickle our fantasies about the future or a world created in the author’s imagination like Isaac Asimov’s “Foundation’s Edge” or J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Hobbit”.

Reading gives us confirmation, imagination and revolution.

Revolution? Yes, there are books that inspire me, push me further in my explorations, dare me beyond the limits I have put on myself. These books create a ‘personal revolution’ inside me. They test my deep-seated beliefs about relationships, its temporal nature; about love, its constancy and mystery; about faith and the true meaning of our lives.

In my life’s journey, I have come to rely upon ‘a few trusted friends’, a few good books that I have always loved to read again and again, which have helped me, in one way or another, sort out my mixed-up feelings about motherhood and being a woman, or brought answers to questions I did not even know I was searching for, or opened new doors of understanding the world in which I live in.

Marianne Williamson’s “A Woman’s Worth” is a book I wished I had read when I was in my twenties, at a time when I was confused about my own worth, especially around men. It would have saved me from making a few mistakes about my relationships with men and other women. It would have reassured me that the struggle, the pain, was necessary in my evolution from a ‘princess’ to a ‘glorious queen’. It would have also prepared me for my new roles as mother/wife/domestic goddess. Nevertheless, as I always say, it is never too late to learn.

Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s “Gift from the Sea” has particularly made me understand my marriage, my ‘oyster bed’. “it is untidy, spread out in all directions, heavily encrusted with accumulations and in its living state…firmly embedded in its rock.” Although my husband and I are still in the early stages of our marriage, with two kids, a mortgage, educational plans, his career, my soon-to-be-realized-business, his family, my family, his friends, my friends, parent-teacher associations, we are slowly but surely accumulating affinities and encumbrances. Yes, we are in “the growing years of our marriage, struggling to find our place in the world.” Yet, I take comfort in the thought that Anne was particularly fond of the ‘oyster bed’ stage, despite its awkwardness, its unsightly appearance, its entanglements, it has a certain familiarity, a true symbol of tenacity and accommodation. This is the time that the bonds of marriage are formed. My husband and I may have outgrown the ‘gazing at each other’s eyes’ or ‘you and me against the world’ clichés, but they have been replaced by a much stronger, firmer web of love: love for our children, love for each other, love for our families, love for our community. Nevertheless, I also look forward to a time when I shall leave the oyster bed and move on to becoming an ‘Argonauta’, who are not fastened to their shell at all. A time when I, as a woman, shall come of age by myself.

As Anne looked to her shells for answers to the questions in her life, I have looked to the books I have read for enlightenment and a little guidance as well. When I was feeling dissatisfied and unhappy with the way I have let my career slip away from my hands, I read Anna Quindlen’s “A Short Guide to a Happy Life.” I, then looked more closely at my own life, and found it not lacking, but abundant in blessings: the smile on my babies, the soft bed I sleep in with my loved-ones, the cool, refreshing iced calamansi juice I make on hot summer days, my reliable husband, my wonderful mom, the laughter I share with friends. My life is full to the brim! And I am full of gratitude, sorrow is but a memory to me.

And so I make a simple plea to my fellow women. Find the time to read. For me, reading has been a saving grace from God. As I read and learn from these women writers, I find that my present situation is not so different from the others. That the dark nights when I sit alone and weeping was a place all women shared, at one time or another. And thus, I found reading their stories a refuge, a place to rest my weary soul, to gather my strength to move on and continue living. For life is glorious and it is ours for the taking!

age & relativity

2006-01-21T07:20:00.000+08:00

stumbled upon (thanks, earnest) this website where it computes your age on the other planets of the solar system. it's really interesting and quite amusing to find that on some planets i'm just a baby (not even a year old) and on one planet i'm more than a hundred years old (nye!).

wouldn't it be fun to celebrate my other birthdays this year, too. like my next venusian birthday is on february 12, 2006 and i will be 55 by then. or on february 19, when i will turn 18 in martian years.

and if for some reason i turn into some of those women (and men) who don't particularly like the aging process, well, i could take comfort in the fact that in some planets, like pluto, my 1st birthday won't be till 2220!

what's your ideal career?

2006-01-09T05:03:00.000+08:00

Your Career Type: Artistic

You are expressive, original, and independent.
Your talents lie in your artistic abilities: creative writing, drama, crafts, music, or art.

You would make an excellent:

Actor - Art Teacher - Book Editor
Clothes Designer - Comedian - Composer
Dancer - DJ - Graphic Designer
Illustrator - Musician - Sculptor

The worst career options for your are conventional careers, like bank teller or secretary.

What's Your Ideal Career?

what element is your love?

2006-01-09T04:59:00.000+08:00

Your Love Element Is Water

In love, you connect deeply and commit totally.
For you, love is all about taking risks and moving into unknown territory.

You attract others with courage and confidence.
Your flirting style is defined by your flexibility and ability to adapt.

Nurturing and shared learning are the cornerstones of your love life.
And while you may jump in to love too quickly, you always come out the wiser for it.

You connect best with: Metal

Avoid: Earth

You And another Water element: will pull each other down into a dark place

What Element Is Your Love?

what temperament are you?

2006-01-09T04:35:00.000+08:00

You Have a Melancholic Temperament

Introspective and reflective, you think about everything and anything.
You are a soft-hearted daydreamer. You long for your ideal life.
You love silence and solitude. Everyday life is usually too chaotic for you.

Given enough time alone, it's easy for you to find inner peace.
You tend to be spiritual, having found your own meaning of life.
Wise and patient, you can help people through difficult times.

At your worst, you brood and sulk. Your negative thoughts can trap you.
You are reserved and withdrawn. This makes it hard to connect to others.
You tend to over think small things, making decisions difficult.

What Temperment Are You?

(i need to get out more...hehehe...some friends of mine will agree with this...but my question is, if temperament is innate, can you escape yours? can you really change? or is balance the key? we don't always have bad days...most days are actually relatively good...the important thing to remember is "don't sweat the small stuff" because "God is in the details." :)

post-holiday blues & reflections

2006-01-03T00:33:00.000+08:00

2005 is past. it is now the year that was. what a year it has been!

> major issues last year included my health. had two minor operations (on the same part of the body). discovered i was a bordeline diabetic. and was overweight by a couple of pounds at the start of the year.

happy to say, i've lost around 10 lbs (which about half of it i probably gained over the holidays...oh well). i like myself better now. physically, that is. i could look at the mirror and smile, just like i used to. i may never be the woman i used to be (pre-pregnancy, that is...) but i don't mind. it doesn't matter, as long as i know i'm healthy. maybe, the change started inside. inside my head. i stopped believing the lies i tell myself: you look horrible, you're so fat, you're ugly (yup, it was terrible self-loathing).

who was that who said "your body is a temple"? yes, it is. so i have to treat it with respect & love. it is a sacred place.

> another issue i had to wrestle with was finding my place in the grand scheme of things...my place under the sun...the "me" in the "we"...the other side of being a mother, a wife, a daughter, a friend...the one true thing...

writing about it helped...talking to someone about it helped...solitude & silence helped...

i longed for some hours spent alone...with a book, with a pen & paper, with just my thoughts...and life has been kind enough to have given that to me this past year...

> honoring the creative artist inside was another. re-started the artist's way around november. still doing it, thank God! was brave enough to send one of my work to a publisher. didn't get published, though. of course, i was crushed. i wanted it so badly. began to have doubts. maybe i am a lousy writer. but then, one does lose some battles to win the war. lost this one, got to move on to the next. write, write, write. that's the mantra.

> letting go. it was one of the major lessons this year. surrendering the fight. knowing when to quit and let God do the rest. most of the time, i push the issue up to its breaking point. quitting was out of the question. but i learned that sometimes, one must just let go of the struggle, thus, let go of the pain. i watched my kids fight with me with all their might. and i found myself telling them, "honey, just let go. don't struggle too much. it's going to be okay." and i wonder where did that wisdom come from? i wasn't only talking to my kids; i was talking to myself. the person inside that writhes in pain, cries in agony, the one who refuses to believe that when she lets go, Someone is going to catch her fall.

> "do not be afraid of goodbyes." said goodbye to some people this past year. there were some farewells that were much more painful than others. probably, the ones whom i dearly loved and had difficulty letting go were the more unbearable. but i learned that even when you have said goodbye a thousand times, sometimes they do come back...in some form or another...memories, mostly. they remain in some closet drawer in our brains...unattended...in a slumber...until a song, a passage from a book, a voice opens the drawer and an outpouring of memories flood your mind until the memory is drowned once more by new ones.

so goodbye 2005, thanks for the memories!

dreaming of a lighthouse

2005-12-20T21:55:00.000+08:00

Have you ever seen a lighthouse, up close and personal?

I heard there are a few of the old lighthouses from the Spanish era along the coast of Ilocos. It would be an interesting trip to see these structures, at least for me. I don't exactly know when it started but I had a fascination for the lighthouse. I think I was pregnant then with my son, when I had a really nice dream about it. I don't remember much of the details but I do remember the lighthouse. It resembled those I saw in a website for Nantucket, USA. I think somewhere in New England (Connecticut or Maine, I really don't know exactly.) I was just drawn to it. I couldn't get it out of my mind for the next couple of days. I even asked my sister to bring me a postcard or poster of a lighthouse when she comes home from London (that December, 2001). And as if the universe was really conspiring with my thoughts, it seemed I see them everywhere.

In the restaurant (Burgoo), there were posters of lighthouses hanging in the walls! In one of my visits to a bookstore (Books for Less), I even saw an amazing book about the old-fashioned lighthouses. I would have bought it but it was just too expensive (even though the book was old and second-hand). I even bought a lighthouse-shaped candle from one of the shops at SM. I even contemplated of taking pictures of all the lighthouses in the Philippines. Talk about obsessive.

I tried to write my thoughts about it. I was wondering about the connection of the lighthouse to my present state (pregnant, i.e.). And I thought the lighthouse is there to help out the navigators/captains of ships/boats so that they won't get into trouble, right? So is it a symbol of strength? For they are imposing, figures, right? Is it a symbol of my need? A navigation system for my life? For the dream came to me at a time when I was in a transition - from being single to becoming a wife and a mom. (A friend made a comment that maybe, it has sexual connotations. Is it a phallic symbol? Could be. Honestly, I'm clueless as to its connection to sex or sexuality.)

Then, I saw this book "To the Lighthouse" by Virginia Woolf at Fully Booked in Rockwell. I grabbed and bought it impulsively and instantly. Didn't care how much it cost. At that time, I knew so little about Virginia Woolf, but I think it was no coincidence that the book I'm now in possession is the story that critics in the literary circles are calling her masterpiece. When I started reading it, I was so overwhelmed by the power of her words. Marami siyang sinasabi. Her sentences are soooo long. At first, I couldn't understand it. Then the excellent Stephen Daldry film The Hours came out, which was based on Michael Cunningham's novel. It was then that I started reading up on Virginia's life and works. And I began to understand why "To the Lighthouse" was written that way.

She wrote about everything, even the innermost thoughts of her characters (they call it stream of consciousness). Eh di ba, tayo pag may kausap, madalas meron tayong iniisip na hindi naman natin sinasabi. Pati yun sinulat ni Virginia.

Anyway, I haven't finished reading "To the Lighthouse" (have you ever felt this way about a really good book or movie, that you don't want to move forward sometimes because you don't want it to end?) But it is in my list of things to do. (And more on Virginia on my next posts.)

Well, I think the point of all this blabbering is that one subconscious thought could lead to another discovery or adventure. (Lighthouse - Batanes - Adventure; Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf - The Hours - Mrs Dalloway, etc...) You'll be amazed where your dreams may lead you!

And about the lighthouses: I still love them , but I'm not obsessing over them anymore. My dream now would be to go Ilocos or Batanes just to see one or two, just for kicks. And that would be a dream come true indeed! :)

(Note: Photo Source: www.trekearth.com)

The Reading Woman

2005-12-16T02:01:00.000+08:00

it took a while before i finally figured out how to upload a photo for my profile (i was too shy to ask for help from my friends, add to that my fear of looking stupid, so i had to really figure things out for myself, with BloggerHelp, of course.) so here's the story behind the photo.

about a month ago, i was trying to think of a name for the bookstore i was planning to put up. initially, i wanted to establish a bookstore specifically for women - singles, mothers, grandmothers, in a relationship, married, widowed, divorced, etc.. i found myself visualizing a group of women reading together or a single woman reading by herself at a cafe, by her garden, or at her study. and i thought, that would be a nice photo subject, a woman reading. i could see her smiling sometimes, or with furrowed eyebrows, clearly engrossed in her own secret world. actually, that is how i see myself when i am reading a really good book. i do not care if other people (esp. if i'm at a cafe) find me a little weird smiling or laughing by myself. it's really none of their business. it's between me and the book.

anyway, a few weeks ago, i found myself at powerbooks greenbelt, browsing through the new book arrivals, when my eyes wandered to the novelty items section, where the calendars, stationery, journals were displayed. i started browsing through the calendars. not the chinese-type calendars we see hardware stores give away at christmas time, but those with really good photographs or painting reproductions such as Van Gogh (which i have bought two years back), Monet, or Picasso. lo and behold! i saw a calendar entitled "The Reading Woman". and true enough, it was a calendar with 12 painting reproductions with either a lone woman or a group of women - you guessed right - reading! i was surprised and delighted that my little "idea" was actually thought of way before and was indeed possible, even so many years ago. (it was another instance of serendipity and synchronicity in this corner of the universe.) the blurb said, "Over several centuries, the reading woman as painter’s subject has become a tradition unto itself. " i believe that to be true, for i think there is a certain romanticism in reading a book - the image of someone, especially a woman, engaged in such a solitary, (although, as i've mentioned, there was a painting of a group of women) somewhat intellectual, but often spiritual pursuit. for in these moments of solitude and quietness, a woman hears her soul's voice and often finds that it is also the voice of God.

...

so when my son wanted to photograph me the other day, i grabbed the opportunity to have my picture taken while reading "possession". it's not as "romantic" or "artistic" as the paintings featured in the calendar but it will do for now. i like it. it's so "me."

the inspiration

2005-12-14T04:47:00.000+08:00

here is the original post from a blog which i have recently deleted from the face of the earth which is the inspiration for my new blog's title.

i have a weird habit of drinking coffee at night - to make me sleepy. well, at least, it worked when i drink a mocha frappuccino from starbucks. the other night, i had mocha figaro frost. i figured that maybe it is the equivalent of a starbucks mocha frap. but unfortunately, it was a lot stronger than i thought it would be. and it gave me a terrible insomnia episode. i tossed. i turned. i counted sheep. the sandman just skipped me that night. it was half-past two in the morning. my kids were sleeping soundly on the cot in my mom's living room. and then, it hit me. an idea, that is. so i scavenge for a pen and paper in my mom's things. why? well, in the past, when i get these late-night eureka moments, i sleep it off, hoping i could remember the next day what i thought off that night. but i did learn the hard way that the universe's great ideas are open to everyone and anyone who's listening and when you get that thunderbolt, that aha! moment, you just got to grab it. write it down. or it will be given to someone else.anyway, the idea was not that grand but it will be life-changing. at least, my life, that is. i had an idea for an article i would write in this magazine for mommies. i know it is not entirely an original idea but i could make it my own. put in it something that i know i do, i did and i truly believe in. my friend, heinz wrote me "to hang in there"...some days we feel lost, but there are tiny, glittering moments like the sparkle of crushed sea glass in the sand, when we feel hopeful, when we feel the invisible hand guiding us to a different path. and we feel certain that we are not lost nor alone. we are exactly where we ought to be.

"possession"

2005-12-14T03:46:00.000+08:00

i've been reading a.s. byatt's "possession" for the past week. it is not an easy novel to read. it has long narratives about life in the nineteenth century, long epic poems, and words i have yet to understand. but for some reason, i am "possessed" to finish it, no matter what. i am intrigued by these "poets" (ash and lamotte) and how they construct their poetry. i have been wondering if they were real? if they truly existed? if the events depicted in the novel really happened?

so i looked it up on the internet. and found a.s. byatt's website. on it, she wrote an essay on how she came to write "possession." and to my delight (and not surprise), i found out that it was her - antonia susan byatt - who wrote the poems herself. she invented these poets. she created all the wonderful letters. it was her all along. and although i would have been happy to know that randolf henry ash and christabel lamotte were real, in flesh and blood, i am content to know that they are real in spirit.

i have a lot of thoughts on this book. but i am not ready yet to write them. maybe "when the winds have changed."

beginnings

2005-12-14T01:27:00.000+08:00

i have a penchant for starting things and not following through them. so i have started a few blogs this year and have not been writing on them for so long, i have forgotten why i started the blog in the first place. blogs are such a curious thing. on one hand, it is a great place to release one's angst, thoughts, dreams and what-nots. on the other, it is scary to just let it all out in the open. for someone who values her privacy, esp. the privacy of one's thoughts, this is a big leap of faith.

hopefully, the fall's not gonna hurt too much. anybody got a net out there?