Chocolate Ferrari

Change of Residence

2010-01-01T00:05:00.003+08:00

First order of business for 2010. I have decided to move. I will not delete this blog for sentimentality's sake but I will no longer primarily post here.

Ta-ta, Chocolate Ferrari! You have served me well. I am sure I will miss you.

Check out my not so new home here.

(Just so you know, I spent an hour deciding whether or not to hit the publish button. As you can see, I finally did.)

Help me decide.

2009-12-21T02:59:00.004+08:00

I am seriously considering abandoning Chocolate Ferrari and moving permanently to my other blog. It's hard to maintain 3 blog accounts and I've really been keeping this blog just for sentimental reasons. (I've had it since 2007 and I like the photo-quote-post on black background format.)

So, what do you think?

Looking for a bright ray o' sunshine

2009-12-11T01:16:00.006+08:00

“The lie has long since lost its honest function of misrepresenting reality. Nobody believes anybody, everyone is in the know. Lies are told only to convey to someone that one has no need either of him or his good opinion.”

-- Theodor Adorno

We are all in desperate need of some good news. I mean, all this conflict and real life drama is taking a toll of my physical health and our health as a nation. I honestly don't know how much more I can take. Headaches are becoming constant and I have no energy to be riled up about this whole charade the government is forcing us to take part of. These days, I just pray even though I don't know exactly how and what to pray for.

Ondoy and Pepeng.

Maguindanao Massacre.

Martial Law.

Earthquakes.

Recent hostage taking in Agusan.

Please cut this archipelago some slack. Consider this as a Christmas present to us. And I have no idea to whom/what exactly I addressed the previous sentences to. I just needed to say that out loud.

2009-12-09T23:53:00.001+08:00

My head has been aching like crazy all day so you can't blame me for not being able to compose a coherent and readable post right now.

In the meantime, you can read my ramblings over at Words.

My Cooking Exploits

2009-11-24T18:56:00.008+08:00

"I was 32 when I started cooking: up until then I just ate."

- Julia Child

My mom is an absolutely amazing cook. When I was in High School, I was always chosen as the "leader" in Home Economics projects by the sole virtue of my mom's well-known culinary skills. I, on the other hand, was not loser in the cooking department but I also wasn't great either.

Lately, though, to save money and because I'm tired of eating fast food and/or Jolly-jeep carinderia food for lunches at work -- I started cooking my own lunches. I do that once every few months to "detox" but I stuck to healthy sandwiches then.

I have to admit that this newfound "hobby" is partially inspired by watching "Julie and Julia." So I went googled "Cheap, quick and healthy meals" and began the cooking showdown -- with myself.

Guess what I discovered? I love cooking! I really, really do. The feeling I get from it is kinda like retail therapy. Seeing the finished product gives me the warm and fuzzies. I can't stop looking at it and tasting it -- even before lunch. Working with my hands was something I've always enjoyed but I never really thought I'd turn out to be much of a cook.

So here's my honest self-evaluation: I have inherited my Dad's cooking instincts and messy technique. I guess having good cooks as parents gave me that levelheadedness in the kitchen. I know what to do and how to keep calm. In the end, the food tastes great -- not blow your mind amazing -- but edible and something I can be proud of.

Here's a few meals I've cooked up the past weeks:

This is chicken potato salad with homemade (!) croutons. I made it overnight as it needed to be chilled. It looks blah in the photo but I swear it's yummy. I used baby potatoes, shredded chicken breast, hard-boiled egg, cheese, wheat bread croutons, pepper, Caesar salad dressing and mayonnaise, and basil.

This is what you call a beautiful and yummy mistake. On the left is cheezy baked potatoes and the right is turbo-grilled chicken breast. So here's the mistake: the cheezy baked potato is made up of Quickmelt cheese, Cheez Whiz, and ham bits over the potatoes. Since I was lazy to find another container, I put it in with the chicken. Their respective "sauces" merged and it was yummier! A bit salty, yes. Tee hee. Yeah, yeah, this isn't exactly a healthy or a quick meal to whip up.

But this, I promise you, is healthy. It's got nothing but pasta, tomatoes, eggplant, olive oil, cheese, and herbs. Very easy to do. Just toss the pasta in after cooking the tomatoes and eggplant and voila! My officemates testify that it is yummy.

So there. Tomorrow, I will (try) to wake up at 5AM and make tuna-mushroom pasta.

Not goodbye but see you again

2009-10-21T01:47:00.004+08:00

Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

There is this one single memory of her that I will never forget. Sunday School, around 9AM, and a room full of boisterous boys and girls who tolerate them. I don't remember what the lesson I was teaching was but I remember how particularly unmanageable my 9 year old boy students were being. And this girl, with the green medical mask and a bright pink hat said, "Are you in the marketplace?" -- boldly calling attention to her classmates unruly behavior. She was able to do what I couldn't that day: keep the boys in check.

She wasn't a regular attendee for reasons understandable so I didn't get to know her that well. But the few moments I was privileged to have with her are precious. It is true that teachers learn from their students. This dear little girl taught me how to face death with your faith and dignity intact.

Her faithfulness to God's Word even in the reality of constant pain shamed me. When she herself couldn't read the Bible anymore, she asked her father to read to her. In her sickness, her love for the Word did not wane -- nor did her devotion to her family. 10 years on earth, it was truly a life well lived, which is more than I can say about my 23 years on this planet.

There is much yet to understand, answers that will not come in this life. But we do not grieve like the rest of men, who do not have hope. I know she is with our Master and Lord now. And we will see each other again. In paradise.

Can 2010 come any sooner?

2009-10-19T00:08:00.007+08:00

“A man grows most tired while standing still.”

- Chinese Proverb

This has been a tumultuous three months. I thought that once I was free from the reins of August, it was all going to be okay. Tells you a lot about my skills in "predicting" the future. If August 2009 were a person, she'd be the Bridezilla -- demanding, overbearing, breathing-down-your-neck-I-want-everything to be-perfect wife to be. Ironically, it was my most productive month, work-wise.

Ah, then September comes along. My birthday month, so I had more reason to be hopeful. But my bubble was burst in the worst possible way. First, I fought with one of my bestest friends in the world on my birthday, while we were at a gig listening to a bunch of my favorite bands. I was stupid, it was stupid. Then Ondoy comes along and decided to shed light on what we all knew all along: our government, our sewage system, our trash management, and our disaster preparation suck.

It was followed by Pepeng, who basically ushered in the month of October. This country, or at least my part of the country, is trying to rebuild itself. We are a resilient people, I know, but every time we are ravaged by storm, revolution, or the everyday demonstration of the hypocrisy of our so-called democracy, my heart breaks a little.

I, too, am trying to restore my zest, my joy, my interest in anything other than trivial things such as Plants vs Zombies and Glee. I am just tired and weary. And I know I'm not supposed to be living life this way, dragging my feet while each day looks exactly like the day before. I pray that He restores my soul. This, too, shall pass.

2010, hasten your coming. I need hope for a fresh (yet again) start.

No regular programming yet

2009-10-02T00:55:00.002+08:00

I obviously haven't been in a very blogging mood this past two months. I have a lot to tell but no words for those stories. For now, people who do drop by this blog every now and then should know that our country, the Republic of the Philippines, has been hit by one of the strongest storms in the last 50 years. Ondoy (also called Typhoon Ketsana) has left most of the Greater Manila Area and nearby provinces devastated by its record-breaking rainfall.

Anyway, should you find it in your heart to help in any way you can, please refer to this blog for updates on the upcoming storm, survival tips, collated tweets for info, and how you can help the victims of Ondoy. http://bayanihanonline.wordpress.com/

Let's keep the spirit of bayanihan alive!

2009-09-22T16:10:00.002+08:00

Patience, dear Chocolate Ferrari. I will return. Just let me unscramble my brains first.

How Vitamin C has proven ineffective in my life

2009-08-08T02:45:00.000+08:00

It is dainty to be sick, if you have leisure and convenience for it.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

It started on Monday when I returned to the office after joining thousands of Makati employees on a crowded Ayala Avenue to say our farewells. Before hopping on the elevator, I bought a cup of coffee from the vendo machine to battle the after-lunch drowsiness.

After a few hours, my throat was itchy and I was getting hoarse. I thought it was because of the coffee and so drunk lots of water. The next day, I had a huge headache and began to cough. On Wednesday, I slept at 9PM for the first time since elementary school because my head hurt so much the only remedy was sleep. I was then on sick leave the next day and that's when the cough started to really bug me big time.

My first complaint is that my head constricts whenever I cough. It's not only hard on my chest, but on my brain as well. Secondly, this cough has schizophrenia. It's like dry cough with phlegm. I feel like there's a huge ball of gooey pulvoron powder stuck in my chest just dying to get out. Thirdly, being sick takes away my appetite to eat and do anything at all except pray that God will take away the cough and my misery. I didn't even have enough energy to watch movies on a holiday!

I was scared to cough so much because I heard it's possible to damage your vocal chords with extreme coughing. I sing so that is so not an option for me. My mom went to the drugstore and bought me an expectorant and paracetamol. I've been living with meds for a week and it kinda sucks. I take Vitamin C everyday and look where that got me. Boosts immune system, yeah right.

Today I went back to work. The cough just got worse. I couldn't think of anything except the cough because every time I breathe, I'm reminded how it's inconveniencing my life. I kept peeing because I kept drinking water. I finished 2 packs on tissue in less than 12 hours, further polluting the planet. On the way home, the girl sitting next to me carrying a cake moved away because I was coughing incessantly. I felt like a leper -- to use the cliche. It felt guilty to commute -- each person I ride with is one more person I can infect.

I finally couldn't take it and researched cough, its symptoms, causes yadah yadah yadah. Apparently, it's an upper respiratory tract infection which is acute and can sustain symptoms from 3 days to 3 weeks. I then stumbled into a site where I could listen how dry cough and cough with phlegm sounded like. I possibly listened around 5 times each before concluding I had the latter since -- duh -- there was phlegm.

It's currently 2:27 AM on my computer and I am writing a post on my phlegm which I have realized is gross and uninteresting. But there, this cough has taken over my life and now it has taken over this blog.

It's an invasion. I need Pei Pa Koa -- it's the only thing that really works besides prayer, of course.

Hi, I'm ____ and I'm overweight

2009-07-29T01:45:00.015+08:00

“We are full of bread and gas, getting fat on the outside while inside we grow thin”

-Linda Hogan

I have never soberly admitted I was fat. At least not out loud in public – because I was afraid that if I said so, it’d make it true. But the thing is: it is true, whether I say it or not.

Having watched it a few days back, the film To be Fat Like Me inspired me to tell my own “fat” story. I never really had any intentions to. Ever. But now I feel like I have to. I want to, here in this small, obscure space on the interwebs where I feel safe.

Ramona: When you’re fat, it’s not like it’s your own body anymore. People think they can say whatever they want about it. What's up with that?

It's true. This world is mean to fat people. And I'm not exempted - receiving or giving end. It hurts me when kids call me a fat lady. I pretend to not hear because they're kids and you can't really expect them to not articulate their observations. I hate that weight composes 40% of conversations at reunions and parties. These people haven't seen each other in years and all they talk about are pounds and dress sizes.

High school is possibly a version of hell for fat people - especially for girls. Prom and other such events were awful and uncomfortable. It's weird though, I remember feeling really iffy the whole time but looking at the photos - I was really pretty!

College was better because nobody knew my past thin self. There was no other image to compare me to. The baggage of being a formerly thin girl was somehow lifted. It helped that UP Los Baños was a place of freedom and space. There, I eased into myself and learn not to care so much about physical appearances.

My outlook may have changed but most people haven't. Random people like drivers, cashiers, and bystanders think they have a right to comment on your weight and appearance. Nobody says anything about an "ugly" person but fat people aren't spared the snide remarks and head-to-toe looks from strangers. Strangers!

Ramona: I wonder how you have your confidence, like they haven’t gotten to you yet.

You have to know, I wasn’t always fat. In fact, like the rest of my family, I used to be really skinny. But I didn't get to enjoy that body because I had a distorted image of it -- there was always something wrong or some imagined fat that needed to go away. My parents/sisters never knew I harbored such obsessions. And like a 'normal' teenager, I had an obsessive phase about my weight – reaching to a point where I was charting my stretches and exercise activities. I weighed and myself daily, created self-punishments for extra pounds and inches.

There's me (oldest) during my thin days. (LOL, I'm so dark!)

Even now, I can never really pinpoint the one trigger that led me to make food my refuge. I think there isn’t just one. Probably a combination of family issues, my eating while reading habit, and leaving an almost lifelong dance ministry (which gave me lots of exercise) – but there was what you could call “the last straw.” It was something rather traumatic that I don't think I'm ready to share to the whole wide world. Needless to say, somehow I thought adding a few pounds would solve the problem. Anyhow, the blame's definitely on me.

Since then, I steadily gained weight although it wasn’t alarming at the beginning because I’m a relatively tall girl (in this country) and the fat was proportionally distributed. But gradually people noticed the weight gain. The first years of that were the worse. Talk about awkward stage.

Because I wasn’t always fat, I don't have the wounds of growing up bigger than the rest of the people around you. I think I still strut around like I’m not a pound heavier than 125 at 5'5". Except when I am unfortunately wearing horrible clothes, I don’t try to hide in layers of fabric. Of course there are bad days, but generally, I'm no longer the insecure thin girl I was.

It makes me really sad when I look at my old pictures. Not only because I want that figure back (haha) but more so when I remember how unsatisfied and unhappy I was with my body when I didn't need to be. It was very okay the way it was and I never saw that until I lost it.

Psalm 139:13-14 For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

Fat, thin, black, yellow, red, white, tall, short -- we all are created in God's image. That should be where we get our self-worth from. Not from how we look.

That is not to say that I believe God condones living an unhealthy life. I admit I need to work on my fitness and losing weight. I have been taking steps towards that with the help of people who really care. What's important to me is that I feel right inside, that I'm really comfortable in my own body, that I can walk without shame. My motivation in getting healthy is not to receive public approval of how I look but to please God because His word says that my body is His temple, I should take care of it.

Whoever you are reading this, I hope I have somehow helped you understand how it is to be fat. If you have friends and family who are overweight, don't add to the burden by criticizing and judging them. Show that your concern by helping them in practical areas. Invite them to jog with you, learn a sport together, and if you have the means, get them a gym membership. Let your actions do the talking. Believe me, they'll know you care.

Romans 12:1 Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship.

*quotes in pink from To Be Fat Like Me (not verbatim but as I remember it)

Care to join me on this journey?

2009-07-08T23:15:00.007+08:00

If all difficulties were known at the outset of a long journey, most of us would never start out at all.

- Dan Rather

In the concrete jungle where you are thrust upon once you hit two decades on earth -- it's a struggle to come out unscathed. While being in your 20s has its boons (options, opportunities, discoveries), it also has its banes (choices to be made, more growing up do, cutting off some ties).

So I have come up with my own Survival Kit. I'm turning 23 this year (scary that it's nearer to 25 than to 20) so I share this to all you people in the same boat as I am. For those who already know that this too shall pass, do feel free to add a few of your own items.

My Survival Kit for the 20-something

Item Category 1: Literature. No one must explore the Jungle without maps or how-to booklets.

a. Don't Waste Your Life by John Piper. Very explanatory by title alone.

b. A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway (memoir). To make you dream of Paris.

c. Elements of Style by Strunk and White. You're gonna need it, believe me.

d. Disappointment With God by Phillip Yancey. To keep you in perspective. Especially for the questioning minds.

e. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. All people who have asked the question "What am I going to do with my life?" will relate to Esther's character.

f. Kiko Machine comic series by Manix Abrera. Sometimes, a little humor helps.

Item Category 2: Films. Orientation through visual and auditory means have been proven highly effective.

a. Reality Bites. A must-watch for all fresh graduates. I swear.

b. Garden State. Nothing like Zach Braff and Natalie Portman to send you on a flashback to your past. Sabi nga, "Ang di lumingon sa pinanggalingan, di makakarating sa paroroonan." (Pathetic attempt at translation: Anyone who turns his back on his past will not reach his destination)

c. Finding Forrester. Because we all need a mentor.

d. Death Becomes Her. To remind us that immortality on this earth is not to be longed for.

e. Once. Just because I said so.

f. Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. Everyone needs a good romantic comedy.

Item Category 3. The Playlist. There are times when the sounds of the Jungle need to be tuned out.

a. I believe that John Mayer has been successful in capturing the yearnings of this generation. Specific songs for this phase in your life: No Such Thing, Waiting on the World to Change, Clarity, and Vultures. The last one being my particular favorite.

b. The Eraserheads.

c. Switchfoot's This is your life and Meant to live

d. Alanis Morisette's You Learn and That I would be good

e. Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova's Falling Slowly

f. Sugarfree's cover of Apo Hiking Society's Batang-bata ka pa

g. Hillsong's Here in My Life

h. Newsboys' You are my King

i. The Beatles' Strawberry fields forever

j. U2's I still haven't found what I'm looking for

k. The Who's Teenage Wasteland

l. Ingrid Michaelson's Keep Breathing

m. Regina Spektor's The Call (From Prince Caspian OST)

n. Up Dharma Down's The world is our playground and we will always be home

Item Category 4. The Intagibles. You'll know if you have it.

a. Desire to learn.

b. Ability to let go.

c. A little submissive spirit

d. Fighter's Instinct. (Ika nga ni Ma'am A. "Choose your battles")

e. Intentionality. Live your life with purpose -- waiting for things to happen gets you nowhere.

Item Category 5: Your companions. No matter how prepared you are, you'll always need someone to have your back.

a. Kindred Spirits. When you've forgotten who you are, they'll remind you.

b. High School close friends. They see how much you've changed and how much you haven't. Help you keep in touch with your old dreams.

c. Parents. This is the time of your life when you'll actually acknowledge that they know better than you do.

d. Former teachers. For wisdom.

e. New acquaintances. You just have to sift through them -- sometimes you'll find a gem.

f. Your personal heroes. Find encouragement from them.

And lastly, you'll need lots of this: Prayer. Talk to your Maker.

2009-07-02T01:28:00.001+08:00

My life needs major overhauling.

Please stand by.

progress must be celebrated

2009-06-20T23:49:00.010+08:00

We all know tht Art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize truth, at least the truth that is given us to understand. The artist must know the manner whereby to convince others of the truthfulness of his lies."

- Pablo Piccaso

unfinished 2008 sketch based on "My Blueberry Nights"

A dear friend was leaving the office so I ransacked my room looking for a sketch I can give her. (I have that habit of giving away my sketches even when I didn't have copies.) That night just led into a whole barrage of memories and frustrations.

I've been sketching since I was about eight, I think. It was my way of entertaining and challenging myself - always trying to find out if I can capture the likeness of a thing through my own hands. As I grew up, sketching inevitably evolved into a mode of self-expression.

I was a "secret" draw-er. Not a lot of people knew that I sketched. I wasn't the type to post my artwork on some website. Maybe it was the lack of courage to put yourself at such a vulnerable display but mostly because I didn't really feel the need to share them. I could experience the gratification by myself.

As I was going through my sketches - dating as far back as 1999 - two thoughts came to mind. One, I was actually surprised that I had improved. I did have formal lessons for a few months in high school but exchanged them for dance classes. (Yeah, look how that turned out. I'm not dancing anymore, am I?) I felt warmness at the realization that I did grow, even in my random sketching.

Two, I realized how much I had missed putting my feelings into shapes, strokes, and shades. It was an altogether different sense of fulfillment from writing. Like taking a photograph of your emotions.

Ah, my lost, neglected, and wandering "talents" are piling up fast.

A sketch back in 2001 (high school days)

A sketch of a window in our college apartment

inspired by Bicol mission trip 07

In bullets

2009-06-08T23:45:00.004+08:00

The only reason some people get lost in thought is because it's unfamiliar territory.

- Paul Fix

1. Finally got to go to the beach. God gave us a sunny day to enjoy the sea. Yay!

2. This year's French Open sucked. I'm sorry but it did. At least for me - and I love clay, so there.

3. Congress betrayed the people by passing Con-Ass resolution at almost midnight. A significant decision for the country made based on which side shouted the loudest? What a joke.

4. I can't believe it's June already. I've barely lived 2009.

5. I miss my dad.

6. I watched "Flandres" at the French Filmfest at the Shang last night. It was horrible. I almost walked out. And it supposedly won the Grand Prix at the 2006 Cannes.

It's been a year and it's worth a post

2009-06-02T11:59:00.006+08:00

I have always considered tennis as a combat in an arena between two gladiators who have their racquets and their courage as their weapons.

- Yannick Noah

It was supposed to be my most wonderful time of the year aside from Christmas. Not only is it summer but it's also Roland Garros season -- two weeks of dirt, red clay, unruly French crowd, and upsets in the world of tennis.

It was around this time last year, I caught the serious tennis bug. The sport has always been in my peripheral awareness but this time I was hooked big time. Blame Jelena Jankovic and her amazing footwork on clay. I just couldn't take my eyes off her slip-sliding moves and thus, here I am now, spending almost 1/4 or more of my time following tennis.

Clay is the surface I love the most because footwork and incredible defense is necessary to do well in it. It being a bit dirty is part of the charm - it makes tennis more down to earth as opposed to the notion that it's THE "civilized" sport.

But this summer or to be specific a week and a half has been torture. Why, you may ask? Heart attack galore with almost all my faves going out in two consecutive days! I'm used to crying over Jelena aka JJ because she's a damn crazy woman and I love her for that. She lost is a three-setter fourth round to the teenager, Sorana Cirstea, with the annoying fist pumps. To top it all off, she got bageled in the second set. In tennis terms, bagel means 0 in your scoreline.

My slip-sliding Serbian soul mate

But the real heartbreak isn't her loss. The following got me crying on the floor and punching pillows while my sisters laugh hysterically over my insane display of loyalty to my bethrothed (in my dreams, okay?) Are you ready?

RAFAEL NADAL LOST. For the first time in Roland Garros, my most loved Spaniard lost in his kingdom of clay. We all knew the day had to come. But I was wishing he would lose in the final or the semifinal perhaps. And the fact that he lost to Soderling only makes it worst as Sod was a total jerk to Rafa a few years back.

To add insult to injury, the French crowd couldn't even support their FOUR-time defending champion and booed and hissed at him. The explanation "they just like an upset" isn't valid because they didn't root for Tommy Haas yesterday when he almost took out Roger Federer in straights.

Now I'm just hoping my Rafael regroups and kicks everyone's ass at Wimbledon. You know he'll want to.

Number 1 in the world, and in my heart. Rafa saying goodbye to the French Open.

What I love in tennis is not just the amazing strokes, the footwork, the intuition, the drama but the mental aspect of it all. Tennis is a vicious game - you crush your opponent just by how you walk on court. You crush your opponent without laying a finger on him. Ask Roger about his Australian Open breakdown (which made me cry as well, I sympathised with him). When you're out there on the court, you're on your own - so fight.

That's why I think Rafa will truly bounce back from this loss. He is too much of a perfectionist not to. I can't say the same for Jelena - her's is an entirely different battle of self-belief and confidence. But for her sake and my sanity, I hope she does.

Wimby is in less than 3 weeks! Excited much. Don't fail me again, me loves. And yes, I still love RG.

the end is not nigh

2009-05-23T00:06:00.005+08:00

"Boredom: the desire for desires."

- Leo Tolstoy (in Anna Karenina)

I think I know the reason why I haven't felt compelled to write/blog all that much: there's nothing going on in my life! Granted, I have been tired the past weeks and have been needing a lot more sleep than usual but that hasn't stopped me in the past.

Okay, as not to be misleading, there ARE stuff going on around me but it can be best described as a telenovela full of action but no movement. If my life were a piece of fiction, it would be filled with numerous events and lightbulb moments but with absolutely no story progression.

Something's gotta change. I don't know what, when, where, and how. One thing I do know: if anybody asks me "What's up with you?" - I want to be able to give a real answer.

*** That said. I am beyond excited for Roland Garros (French Open) Go Rafa! Go JJ!

It's a full moon tonight, just saying

2009-05-12T00:51:00.008+08:00

"Let no one be willing to speak ill of the absent."

- Sextus Propertius

More than two weeks since I last wrote a blog post. So sorry for the negligence. Just a lot going on and sleep is a rare treasure these days that I sort of put it first among priorities. Anyhow, to keep it short and sweet - sharing photos to enlighten my handful readers of what I've been up to during the hiatus.

BSA celebrated its third anniversary and here we are posing "wackily." It was also the same day our office was blessed. We moved in the new office almost a month ago. I like my new work space. Must take photo of it soon.

I went with a couple of friends, N and P, on an obligatory summer food trip to Kozui (a green tea cafe at Tomas Morato) and to the Nestlé Creamery. We ate the Japanese version of Halo-halo and it's called "anmitsu." It was a miracle all that ice cream didn't make me sick.

And lastly:

Star Trek was just all kinds of AWESOME. The cast, the story, the pace, the editing, the score. I'm a JJ Abrams fan but even I was afraid he was going to mess it all up. One thing I missed though - Enterprise officers walking in the halls, talking. That's just really minor.

And let me say: Puh-lease. Watching and liking the new Star Trek movie DOES NOT make you a "Trekkie." I followed Star Trek Voyager and a bit of Deep Space Nine and I don't have the guts to call myself one. Respect the real Trekkies, yo.

There are probably Star Trek purists rather unhappy with the new franchise. However, why make a new movie/reboot if it's just gonna be the same as the old ones? Wouldn't that totally defeat the purpose? And JJ Abrams is anything but conventional. I also think this movie will win new fans for Trek.

I want to watch it again. Trekkie or not, you should all try to catch in on the silver screen.

Beaming out now. Live long and prosper!

Factory of Words

2009-04-27T00:55:00.008+08:00

If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad.

- Lord Byron

I think too much of anything dilutes its meaningfulness. As much as I love writing - whether fiction, blog posts, reviews, and other whatnots - it sometimes feel like I'm just endlessly spewing out words that mean nothing to me.

Can people actually run out of words? Is there some life quota, once you reach it your reservoir is depleted? What if by making a living out of stringing words together, building on angles, and crafting leads - I might use up all the words I'm "allowed" to use? That would be something like a nightmare.

Writing is my way of organizing my mind, of making sense of the world, of concretizing my fantasies. I don't want to lose it.

Buying sperm

2009-04-14T23:57:00.007+08:00

The quickest way to know a woman is to go shopping with her.

- Marcelene Cox

I bought a new pair of slippers since my cheap sidewalk-bought pair finally snapped at the most inopportune time (at camp, on the way from the pool to the lodging area). Plus, what's summer without slippers?

So I bought this blue colored one with blue and pink splashes with random graffiti - or so I thought:

Can you see the blue sperm? I just bought footwear with "SPERM" written all over it and I'm not taking it back! It's too funny.

So what if the veil was torn?

2009-04-11T01:59:00.006+08:00

I consider myself somewhat of a wide reader and have read and re-read my books - as well as those of my friends - over the years. But there is one story that I don't get tired of hearing and reading. And that's the story behind why there's a a long weekend that we're all currently enjoying.

I must have heard "For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son..." a thousand times since childhood. Must have also watched a dozen of Jesus films throughout the years. And must have listened to hundreds of sermons about Christ dying on the cross for all our sins.

There's a song that goes, "Your grace still amazes me." And honest to goodness - I do feel that way. Everytime I hear the story of grace: that God became man, died in possibly the most humiliating death, bore the sins of the undeserving, paid our debts, and rose again after three days, it still fills my heart with gratitude.

And you know what's my favorite part? It isn't actually a big part of story - in fact, in most accounts, it only took one sentence: At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom.

You might be thinking, so what? A curtain, the temple veil is torn - and so what? This just shows how absolutely thorough God is. Every single detail means something. Nothing is random. Like the fact that the time Jesus, the ultimate sacrifice for sin, died was around the time of sacrifice in the temple. I mean, that just wows me.

The temple veil is not just an ordinary veil. It was made of woven fabric of seventy-two twisted plaits of twenty-four threads each and it measured sixty feet long and thirty feet wide. The veil served as the separator between the Holy Place and the Most Holy Place or the Holy of Holies. The Most Holy Place is the inner room in the temple where the high priest would enter once a year to offer sacrifice for the forgiveness of the sins of the people. This is where the high priest comes to be God's presence.

So the torn veil is not just some random event to add drama to the already heart-wrenching image of the Savior, beaten and bruised, hanging on the cross. Everything God had commanded in the Old Testament served as a prototype. The sacrifices were glimpses of the true Sacrifice. The priests as precedents of the true and highest of High Priests.

But what strikes me when the image of the veil being torn from top to bottom is that finally - everything that comes between mankind and God has been torn apart. Because of Jesus, those who believe in Him can now approach God in confidence. That just blows my mind! The privilege of being able to come to God, talk with Him, and enjoy His presence - how awesome is that?

So for me, it's not just the long weekend that I enjoy - it's having another opportunity to be reminded of God's amazing grace, and his love demonstrated in this: While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.

You tore the veil. You made a way. It is done.

May you all have a meaningful Holy Week.

Shameless Plugging

2009-04-05T21:47:00.004+08:00

I take this opportunity to plug some online projects that have been taking up my time - sort of. Anyway, this is my blog and I can do what I want. Haha.

8 treasures

>>> A food tumblelog by Pinoy twentysomethings who don't have much choice than takeouts and microwavables. If you're always looking for new stuff to eat. Check us out!

Words from the Land of Juan

>>> Or what I call Project Words, basically (feeling) writers like me share on their thoughts on writing, being Filipino, reading, and all things relevant to that.

And of course - my flickr account. Haha. Para may pangatlo.

Hope you drop by!

wait till it's my turn

2009-03-29T03:04:00.006+08:00

All change is not growth, as all movement is not forward.

-Ellen Glasgow

I find it absolutely horrible when friendships mutate because one becomes involved in a relationship. This is particularly true in friendships with the opposite sex. Granted, changes are inevitable but still, you wish it didn't have to be different.

So what, now that you have a girlfriend, you can't talk to your other friends (AKA us) about what's going on with your life? As it is, all our current interaction happens only because it's needed. We were the ones who had a place in your world even before you knew she existed. But I guess friends are that easy to find for us to be discarded so nonchalantly.

All that crap about "I wouldn't be who I am today if it weren't for your friendship?" Yeah right.

Don't tell me I didn't try. Our relationship has now been demoted to "acquaintance." So long.

Ridiculous apologies

2009-03-23T23:39:00.007+08:00

*photo from Getty Images

Given the extreme time difference between California and Manila - I couldn't watch the Rafa-Murray Indian Wells final live but thanks to the Internt, I did follow the scores. Congratulations, Rafa!

I managed to catch the replay of the match at Balls Channel. The blogs and news sites weren't kidding when they said it was windy. It was awfully windy - swirling in all directions throughout the match.

But Rafa played really, really awesome. His net-play was spot on and he caught Andy Murray off-guard several times. (By the way, I was beyond thrilled to see Kate Walsh watch Rafa's semi-final and final matches. tee hee.)

What made this "event" blog-worthy was that this is the only time I remember watching Rafa win a tournament where he was full of joy after winning. He just couldn't stop smiling. For some reason, I think I've only watched finals between Rafa and Federer (that's weird) and those are just bittersweet.

Most of the time, Rafa couldn't celebrate "properly" because he just beat "THE" Roger Federer. He constantly apologizes for being the better player! He did that at Roland Garros, at Wimbledon, and just recently- at the Australian Open. It feels like he filters his emotions as not to gloat over his victory when Fed is around. Not that I'm blaming Roger for that - he didn't ask for that kind of sensitivity around him. I think it's just Rafa being gracious - win or lose.

So it was refreshing to see Rafael Nadal, World number 1, to be unabashedly happy and full of glee. Nice to see him celebrate his win without worrying about somebody else's feelings.

Today's lesson:

2009-03-16T00:52:00.006+08:00

As much as within your power, never inconvenience anyone.

Dear you,

Let me start by admitting that I did not have the best of days to begin with. It was actually rather awful. You see, I had this dream - maybe an unrealistic dream - of my 22nd year of earth being kick-ass. And that meant participating in another writers workshop. But stupid me, I thought the deadline was March 15 when it was actually March 13. So, it really wasn't the greatest of days at all. Which was not your fault, let me clear that.

However, you are guilty of adding to the pissy-ness of it all. I actually did not want to meet you, should you have thought otherwise. It was just my job. And because I was - as you implied - playing babysitter, I was unable to attend Sunday service at my church. I was also hindered from catching up with friends I only see once a week. And you made me go to Makati on a weekend. ON A WEEKEND.

So given the said circumstances, you could have had the decency to text me (after I texted and miss-called you several times) to say that you will be coming at 2PM rather that the supposed 11AM appointed time. The world does not revolve around you, you know. I have a life as well.

You didn't arrive at 2PM, you arrived at 4PM. And when you finally graced us with your presence (I hope you detect the sarcasm), you had the audacity to say that you weren't really planning on coming. So why the hell did you not say that in the first place? Why had I wasted cab fare money to meet some person who never really had any intentions of coming? My goodness! Think of all the time I wasted!

Dude, I know you were trying to be polite by saying "on my way" for hours. But c'mon. I am not eight. I can take honesty. In fact, I love honesty. Take note of that for future references.

P.S.

While I was waiting for you, I read the entire book, "Ella Enchanted" at the Young Adult section at Powerbooks. Yes, you took that long.

Much scorn,

Wanted: Peace

2009-03-07T21:27:00.007+08:00

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;

courage to change the things I can;

and wisdom to know the difference.

- The Serenity Prayer

I remember the first time I heard about this prayer. It was in Ma'am A.'s cubicle and she told me that this was her favorite prayer. At the time, I found it rather nice but it didn't really make a dent.

You know, the thing I like most about having read a book or a series when I was still a kid is that the meaning and impact changes over time, as I grow older. The more years added to my life, the more Anne of Green Gables, Little Women, or The Chronicles of Narnia mean to me. They suddenly are not just stories anymore, they are relevant to my life and my current experiences.

The Serenity Prayer is something like that. These past two years, I have learned all the more that many matters are outside the locus of my control. And I am one who hates having my plans ruined or altered, even. And due to that particular attribute, it is inevitable that I will get pissed every single day.

But lately, God has impressed upon me to learn to accept certain things not because I should stop struggling against the status quo, but because I need to work through all the crap silently but steadily. Being annoyed at all the time distracts me from keeping the end goal in mind. I am constantly unsettled, complaining, and ungracious.

I want to have peace even though things are not going my way. I want to have the discernment when to fight or when to leave things be. (Yet another lesson from Ma'am A: Choose your own battles) And I want to hope, despite not having a lot of reasons to.

an attempt to try on their shoes

2009-02-28T02:09:00.004+08:00

And all of our parents, they're getting older

I wonder if they've wished for anything better

While in their memories, tiny tragedies

- John Mayer (No Such Thing)

I guess this is the time when people in their twenties (such as me) really begin to be constantly haunted by the immense possibilities of the future. It kinda feels that this should be the time to fulfill your dreams and every step you take away from your supposed/desired path is time wasted.

A. and I were having our usual "deep" conversations on the long ride home and somehow, our parents came up. Before this point in my life, I never really asked whether my parents were happy with the life they chose. Whether they felt fulfilled as humans, whether they have any reason to get out of bed in the morning. Do they still remember the dreams they once had? Or does being resigned come with age?

I have a grandmother who lives with us and I can't help but wonder where does she find meaning in her life? Yes, she goes out with friends, talks with relatives long distance via phone, watches TV a lot. What could be going through her brain, her heart as she lives yet another year?

I never thought I'd be afraid of getting old. Or at least of what my idea is of getting older. I truly want to understand.

babalik ka rin...

2009-02-15T16:00:00.011+08:00

Signing in to post mandatory UPLB Feb Fair photos. The visit was refreshing yet tiring. I hate feeling that, somehow, I no longer really "belong" to Elbi. Seeing our old apartments occupied almost broke my heart. I wish the new inhabitants a happy life while they are living in House 10 and 11. I know we did.

Everything was different and yet the same. The middle-aged woman selling corn by vega center is still there. The sari-sari stores are still manned by the same people and yet I no longer know anyone - except a few of those who chose to stay on and those who were visiting, just like me.

Any visit to LB is always bittersweet. Because no matter what, one cannot turn back time.

Why don't you do something?

2009-02-10T23:46:00.005+08:00

Too many people are thinking of security instead of opportunity. They seem to be more afraid of life than death. - James F. Bymes

I know that the parallelisms could seem like I am trivializing the situation of those in an abusive relationship. I'm not trying to do that. Just this morning, it sort of just came to me that I am like a demoralized wife of an abusive husband, tired of it all but still unable to leave - for many different reasons.

Maybe, like the abused wife who hopes that when the baby is born, things will change. Maybe I believe that a little change of environment will make things better. Perhaps, I am too hopeful for my own good. I keep hoping that it will get better - and it does, but only for a while. And then, the regression goes deeper than the last cycle.

Despite all my complaints and whining, I'm still here - just like how the abused wife stays, despite bruises and injuries, both physical and emotional. I'm afraid to leave, afraid to make yet another mistake, afraid of starting over.

Lately, I've been feeling tired all the time. Even at 9AM in the morning I feel absolutely fatigued. That's when I realized that the actual work was only half the battle, the other half was being fought in my mind - psyching myself to move, to go on. I'm so tired, physically and mentally. So sometimes, I just choose not to think.

I do not know what to do, what action to take. So I do what I do when I'm lost and paralyzed in fear that was of my own creation - I pray. In confusion, I cling to God and ask for peace.

This blog was my secret hiding, ranting place. Thanks to Google, it's not so secret anymore. So pardon me, should I sound so cryptic. My heart is so heavy, I can't even find humor in this situation - but don't worry, in a few months or years, I surely will.

2009-02-03T23:43:00.003+08:00

I'm too tired to write anything. So just sharing a photo from my November trip to Vigan.

The tale of two Jelenas

2009-01-25T22:39:00.000+08:00

Read here.

2009-01-24T23:13:00.003+08:00

We waste our lives when we do not pray and think and dream and plan and work toward magnifying God in all spheres of life. God created us for this: to live our lives in a way that makes him look more like the greatness and the beauty and the infinite worth that he really is.

- John Piper in "Don't Waste Your Life"

remember those Christmas party dance performances?

2009-01-10T00:49:00.004+08:00

"When people hear good music, it makes them homesick for something they never had, and never will have." - Edgar Watson Howe

Despite the fact that my Media Player has calculated that my favorite music (according to how many times you play a song) are by Glen Hansard/Marketa Irglova, Death Cab for Cutie, and A Fine Frenzy, I am more pop that I would like to admit.

Lately, I've been listening to Christina Aguilera's first album. And I'm amazed that most of the tracks do not sound dated to me. I'm so into it - again- the thought of choreographing dance steps for 'Come on Over" and "What a Girl Wants" crossed my mind. Don't worry, it just crossed and did not stay for long.

In addition to Christina Aguilera, I have also been listening to the Spice Girls, BackStreet Boys and N' Sync.

All this reminiscing about past musical preferences leads me to re-evaluate my judgement on today's teen pop. Maybe I should "forgive" high-schoolers for their love of all things Jonas Brothers, High School Musical, and Miley Cyrus. After all, nobody begrudged me the pop acts of our time.

I just hope that eventually they realize that a whole lot of music is out there.

Another chance to get it right

2009-01-01T23:55:00.005+08:00

“An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.”
- Bill Vaughn

It's 2009 - Happy new year, people! May this year be a kick-ass year in all respects. As this is also my 22nd year on earth, I hereby vow to make it as adventurous as I possibly can. I will enjoy being 22!

Happy new year, everyone! Cheers!

Joyeux Noel

2008-12-25T03:33:00.005+08:00

Merry Christmas, y'all! (You know, the hug from one particular you just about made my night =D)

So here's something from my favorite Christmas song/carol:

Till He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new a glorious morn

Fall on your knees
O hear the angel's voices
O night divine,
O night, when Christ was born
O night divine, O night
O night divine.

Merry Christ-mas!

the tendency to flee

2008-12-03T23:30:00.006+08:00

"You cannot escape the responsibility of tomorrow by evading it today."

- Abraham Lincoln

Coincidentally, this post is my 100th post for this blog. I had planned something "special" for the occasion but, oh well. For most of my life, I've had this delusion that I was a fighter. However, given the option to fight or flee - it seems that I often opt to flee. That is exactly why I chose to study in LB. Or why I constantly take vacations when all things are falling apart.

I just came from a trip to La Union where I stayed with R. We went on road trips to Vigan and Baguio. Time slowed down so pointedly, it took me by suprise. It had been a long time since I felt the night unravel, really savoring the passage of time. And having a kindred spirit close by was such a comfort - as opposed to the loneliness of the urban jungle. And most of all, being in the presence of nature makes me so very aware of my own smallness and my place on the planet. The sea, the mountain, the trees, the fields - all rest for the weary.

It was hard to give up all that. The fact that, deep down, I knew I was still going to have to face the reality of my job, my responsibilities slightly marred the otherwise delicious getaway. The feeling of dread was simmering for the entirety of my four-day stay and came to a boiling point when I rode on the bus home to Manila. I just broke down in tears - must have freaked the kid next to me. For the next few days, I was still shaken at the thought that I was back in the city - just like that, I was back. There wasn't enough time for me to recover, to prepare myself.

It's funny how in one place, everything seems so clear, so simple that you wonder how you missed seeing it before. And then in yet another place, everything begins to get complicated and you try hard to hold on to the decision you made during the moment of clarity.

I do not presume that I am entitled to happiness but I do believe I have the freedom to pursue it. The only question is do I have enough courage to run towards something instead of running away?

***The photo was taken in Antipolo. The La Union pics are still undeveloped.

'Tis the season

2008-11-13T23:35:00.006+08:00

"The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once."
- Albert Einstein

I have the time to blog. I have the energy (sort of) to blog. But I have nothing to post about. Well, at least nothing planned.

What do I write about? The fact that Christmas season is here and that sales are occurring every weekend? Or I can share about how much I dislike the Christmas display thingie along Ayala Avenue. I don't know - blue, pink, and purple don't seem all that Christmas-sy to me. Where is the warmth of colors? Loving the Rustan's Ayala store window display, though.

Tennis season is also almost over. No tennis matches for me for a month. How will I get my fix then? Well, Davis Cup is still upcoming. Something to look forward to.

The end of the year is fast approaching and I hardly noticed it. Mostly because I spent most of it trying to figure out where I should be and assuring myself that I am. Until I realized I was chasing the person I thought I was supposed to be instead of just letting it happen.

What does 2009 have in store for us?

Just like milk

2008-11-02T16:18:00.004+08:00

“One reason a dog can be such a comfort when you're feeling blue is that he doesn't try to find out why”
- unknown

I think four years in Elbi spoiled me rotten. Whenever I'm feeling blah, I always summon memories of the place, the people, and all the comfort it provides. Perhaps, because it was and is the last place that I felt sure of myself.

Just a post ago, I wrote about loneliness. At first I thought it was the sort of loneliness and deep craving for love, love as in eros: romantic love. But, having had time to mull things over - thanks to an unexpected holiday which was spent in Antipolo with cheery friends - I realized what I was missing was love, yes, but phileo love. Friends. Camaraderie.

Not that I don't have friends anymore now that I'm permanently based in the city. But the urban jungle changes everything: proximity, regularity, and quality time. It used to be when I needed company, all I had to do was text J, S, A, R, or I and we were out to coffee at Coffee Blends. Or sleeping over at A's - lying on the grass and chatting till dawn. Or hopping in a car with R for a joy ride to SLEX. And when I got home to the apartment, I had housemates to rant with, be stupid and shallow with, and just to be with.

No matter how crazy and frustrating the day was, a conversation or a long walk would clear my head and make it all seem okay - until tomorrow.

There's also the matter of what I do. I would say I'm a good student and learning is my passion. This translated to exerting minimal effort in schoolwork to produce great results. High grades were achieved without killing myself for it. I aimed to please teachers and professors - their approval meant much to me. More often than not, I got it.

And now, as part of the labor force, I'm painfully learning that the corporate world - whether it aims to or not - will stiffle my spirit, my creative process, and most of everything about how I work and produce output. It hurts that I'm not the best - even when I'm not trying to be. Because that's the point: all my life, I was the best by default. Without even trying.

So yeah, it's not surprising that I find myself constantly willing me back to my favorite place in the whole wide world. Although I know I would find myself complacent in Elbi, it's a constant temptation to return. But returning, too, is painful because it's not the same and it never will be the same again. It's like seeing a rare copy of C.S. Lewis' Till We Have Faces - you can touch it, smell its pages, even read a few paragraphs. But because you don't have the money to purchase it at present, you can't take it home (even when you've read the book before). And that it just torture. A visit to Elbi, therefore, is always bittersweet.

Someday, I may get over my spoiled state. But as for now, the process of weaning myself from that dearest place is something I have to go through. So forgive me if Elbi is always on my mind. At the moment, I wish it were beneath my soles.

Alone in the city

2008-10-23T00:03:00.005+08:00

Better to be quirky alone than unhappy together. – Anita Hamilton

Despite the unwritten list of all the perks of being single - less expenses, less drama, no responsibilities to a partner, no expectations of romance and on it goes - there are days when doubt creeps in. Are the items on the list mere consolation, a way to make "unattached" people forget their loneliness? Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of days when I am genuinely happy and utterly relieved that I am not in a relationship.

But sometimes, some nights - more often than I would have wished - I lie in bed, unable to sleep, thinking how I would give up all the perks in the list if only there was someone to share my life with. Ika nga ng Moulin Rouge: The greatest thing you'll ever know is to love and be loved in return.

I am not my job

2008-10-20T00:16:00.006+08:00

"Distrust any enterprise that requires new clothes."
- James Thomson

I went on a spontaneous shopping spree today. I totally did not plan this at all and I spent all afternoon justifying to myself why I bought the stuff I did - even though it was my money anyway. (That's the thing with having a less than ideal salary - every little thing has to be budgeted.) I bought 3 books, 2 t-shirts, a black leather belt, and a new pair of shoes. Oh, kill me!

My whole approach to shopping changed ever since I started working. Before purchasing, I would run the potential clothes in my mind - judging whether they are appropriate for office wear. Dressy tops, pumps, flats for commuting, and accessories to go with all the "office outfits" are now all part of the wardrobe. (And 90% of the tops are black. No surprises there)

So when I was choosing the t-shirts earlier, it was such a struggle for me to overcome that bugging voice that kept telling me "but you can't wear that in the office." What in the world?! Since when have I become the person who gets guilty when she buys t-shirts? That is just so wrong.

Let me affirm myself: You have a life outside work, outside of the office, outside of frigging Makati City. And you can wear a t-shirt whenever you want to. Get it?

I can literally stop traffic

2008-10-09T01:11:00.005+08:00

"In the city a funeral is just an interruption of traffic; in the country, it is a form of popular entertainment."

- George Ade

I was walking down from UPCO (Faculty housing in elbi) last weekend and I was wearing this skirt. And I am not kidding when I say this - every freaking car that passed by me either slowed down a bit or honked at me.

Have they never ever seen a skirt as colorful as this? Wahaha.

Good gosh, I have commitment issues?

2008-10-01T23:32:00.003+08:00

“In the midst of great joy do not promise to give a man anything; in the midst of great anger do not answer a man's letter
- Chinese Proverb

For the past two years, psych tests and such evaluation measures have told me that the reason I am not in a relationship is because - drumroll please - I am not willing to commit.

Say what?!! I found that so hilarious and so unbelievable because I was a staunch supporter of commitment and faithfulness, yadah yadah yadah. Apparently, being a supporter doesn't necessarily translate to practice.

My two new officemates - one female, one male - are both in serious relationships. A few of my really good friends have entered couple-status fairly recently, too. And being in their presence have made me realize that I am indeed unwilling to commit. Or in the words of R. : You don't want to complicate your life.

I guess I am not willing to have the complexities of having a partner and making decisions for two people. I can hardly make decisions for myself let alone another person! Plus, being with someone means that I have to drag him in my issues. Poor guy. (if ever)

What it all comes down to is that I am selfish and bratty. Not that I need to address that because I sooooo wanna be in a relationship (please note the sarcasm) but that it's a perspective that needs to be changed. I have come to treat people, my job, my passions such as writing as something that I will pay attention to only when it is convenient for me. I want to be able to leave things (and people) and pick them up again whenever I want to.

M. and I were chatting last week and we have come to a conclusion that this is the exact reason why the guys I fall for are either taken or emotionally uninterested in romance. Because deep, deep down - despite my showy display of desiring romance - I didn't want to be tied down. I was merely content with pining after people I knew I would never really work out with. What I was really after was the rollercoaster emotions that came with love or what looks like it and not love itself.

On the up-side: I have come to establish really really strong self control. Since getting over you-know-who last summer, I haven't "liked" another guy again. Like I said, all about self control. Because really, if I let myself, I would go crazy over who I call "the hottest guy I know." Yeah, right. Who am I kidding, huh?

When will I learn

2008-09-19T00:30:00.006+08:00

"Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes."

- Oscar Wilde

I really need to learn to live with lowered expectations. My birth day started good: I was able to blog about being 22, I got to the office before 8AM, we had a great lunch at the office and I even got a cute silver top as a gift from the bosses.

And then everything went downhill from there. BUT it shouldn't have. And I take full blame.

I had plans with H. for the evening. We were supposed to go to Cubao X, to Bellini's, to have dinner. We have not seen each other in ages and I thought: why not spend my birthday with her - who was an integral part of my college life.

I was excited - I looked forward to it all day. And then crisis happened. She couldn't push through for valid reasons - which I do not grudge at all. The thing is my planning perspective is a little screwed.

You see when I plan, I'm a little bit horse-sighted about it. I surge forward narrow-blinded by the promise of the beautiful masterpiece my brain concocted. It consumes me. And when it doesn't happen EXACTLY the way I planned it all out, I become disoriented. Not disappointed, disoriented. I just don't know what to do next when my plan fails or is postponed - I get stuck. All the other options seem blah in comparison to what I had in mind.

This kind of thinking leads me to make utterly and tragically wrong decisions. What I did when H cancelled was I allowed myself to suffer overtime with my officemates until past 10PM. The thing is - I didn't need to! I could have left, in fact, they were urging me to. But I was completely thrown by the change of plans that I literally and mentally couldn't make the next step.

It was only when the clock struck past 10PM did I realize what a mistake I had made. I could have spent my night with my mom and sister. Or I could have gone out by myself and reflected. I could have even gone to Cine Europa for goodness sakes!

I am trying hard not to beat myself too much over a spoilt evening. After all, it can be salvaged. I will be later (after posting this) writing in my journal, read a few Bible passages, and say prayers for everything - the good, the bad, the ugly - that happened the past year.

It wasn't exactly the night I had planned for my 22nd year on Planet Earth. But on the brighter side, I saved the money I was suppose to spend for dinner. THAT is a real bright side.

"a little girl with nothing wrong is all alone"

2008-08-30T22:59:00.008+08:00

If I try to be like him, who will be like me?"
-Yiddish proverb

My HS barkada (That's me wearing the white headband) we're missing a few members

My high school barkada recently had our annual shinding where we stayed overnight in R's house in Cainta. This year's get-together was a lot different from what we had in the last four years. I think it's because most of us are working now -- thus earning our own money. This means more moolah to spend on food, coffee, and shopping.

The highlight of the night was us 6 girls squeezed inside a Honda city (4 of us are overweight, including me, haha) singing Backstreet Boys songs loudly with the windows rolled down. As Long as You Love Me and I Want It That Way really defined our growing up years.

During that night, when most of the girls were playing billiards and the others were watching "My Best Friend's Wedding, " I was just sitting. Everything that happened all night up to that point flashed in my mind and I realized how different I had grown from my high school clique. There was a gap between us that can only be temporarily bridged by memories of the girls we once were.

It might seem like common sense to most people that over the years, people change. But I hadn't considered that till now. I thought that I was just an expanded version of myself, still the big-eyed, sharp-tongued girl -- only with additional insights, different taste in music and film, and altogether new passions.

Looking back to my high school years, there were many things I regretted but still wouldn't have taken back even if I could. But in college, I felt a complete comfort in my own skin - that I had kept the integrity of what and who I am. I'd like to go back and experience that safeness that I felt in being sure of who I was. Because right now, I'm getting to know me all over again and it's tough to swallow that the "me" in my mind doesn't necessarily match the "me" in the real world. I think I wouldn't like me if I met me.

It's hard getting acquainted with yourself again. The good thing about this is God and I can shape "me" from this point on.

****

Here are all my names (as tagged by Mam A.):

1.Ilia (pronounced ai-lee-ya) - people generally call me this. Hard to think up a nickname for this one. I don't know where my parents really got this name from. They tell me they derived it from Princess Leia of Star Wars. Although Ilia has origins of Russian, Danish and Hebrew. It means "God is Lord." Which I like.

2. Eirene - this is my second name. It is Greek for "peace." I try to live up to that name once in a while. A few people call me this. Mostly my Ateneo fellows because I used this name during the workshop.

3. Lia - some of my college housemates and friends call me this and a few high school friends. I actually don't like this nickname because I feel like "Lia" is too common a name.

4. I-li - Only two people in the world call me this and I like it that way. One is E from high school and one is P from Elbi.

5. Li - some friends back in Zamboanga (I studied there for a year) call me by this name. It's tolerable. Haha.

6. Karen - I go by this name when I'm at cafes and restos. When the crew or waiters ask for my name, I tell them I'm "Karen." Because it takes more effort to spell Ilia and repeat it thrice over for them to get it.

7. Sanyata - I use this name as my alter ego of sorts. It's who I am online. P.I. actually calls me by this name. It means "beautiful" in a Filipino language which I forgot what. Sorry. I'll look that up.

8. Ayliya - I began using this more than a year ago because you can read it and pronounce my name right. Yay! Plus it looks more Filipino than Ilia.

9. My Chinese name is Huang Ren Xin (not so sure about the "English" spelling though). It means "Compassionate Heart." Huang is the last name and it means yellow. As in Huang River=Yellow river.

10. Bai Bulan - my mom wants my pen name to be this. She's of a Filipino tribe, Subanen, descent and in the vernacular, it means "Moon Princess." Which is quite apt because I was born during the full moon and right smack at the day of the Autumn or Mooncake Festival of the Chinese.

So that's all, folks! I think. =D

Sanyata must shed the pounds

2008-08-14T22:58:00.008+08:00

Fitness - if it came in a bottle, everybody would have a great body.
- Cher

(me in my fave jeans, back in college. boo hoo)

It is said the admission is the first step to healing. Well, I don't actually need healing - what I need is to lose weight. And in order to do that, I must admit that I do need to lose weight. Yes, I admit, I admit, I admit. The bum weight - long overdue - must go.

I have my 5-month bum period to blame for the huge weight gain. Sleeping all day and snacking a lot can do that. I also gained during a three-week period when my mom was out of town and someone else - I will not mention who - was left to cook. Needless to say, the taste was less than savory, so I ate a lot more to compensate for the lack in taste.

It hasn't all been downs. I had my ups in March when I stopped eating rice for a month and started walking a lot. And exercise actually felt good. And walking became my time for reflection.

What is driving me to lose weight is the scary fact that I've lost that ability to feel good - physically - about myself. There were days in the past two months when I really just wanted to hole up in my room because I deemed myself too disgusting to be seen in public. The fact that I couldn't fit into my favorite jeans anymore took a toll on my mental health and self-esteem. That pair of jeans was the love of my life. It was made of good denim, was the right length, and cost me only 250 pesos. No kidding.

Anyway, I am now in a no-dinner diet on weekdays. I just eat yogurt for dinner. And I've been getting back to walking. Although the erratic weather is proving to be an obstacle. Hopefully, results will come soon despite that. I need discipline, lots and lots of discipline. I want to fit in that pair of jeans again. Cross your fingers for me.

***BTW, I've started a "serious" flickr account. Meaning I take the project seriously. Take a peek here.

to give your heart a song to sing

2008-08-01T00:31:00.006+08:00

Why love if losing hurts so much? We love to know that we are not alone.
- C.S. Lewis

Hearing Rachael Yamagata sing "I Wish You Love" always makes me think of that someone (in my case, many someones) who once crushed my hopes for a blossoming love affair. It's a refreshing feeling when remembering no longer nips at you, when you are no longer consumed with pining. And only fondness remains.

Just recently, I was in a jeepney with earphones and my music player was on random. With the opening two notes of this song, I was so overcome with this surge of bittersweet emotion that made me want to sob with unknown pain and release. And it dawned on me: I have never really been heartbroken. Yes, I was rejected. Yes, my affections were rebuffed. Yes, my hopes for love were dashed.

But for your heart to be broken, someone must have it in their hands. You need to surrender enough control for others to gain the capability to squeeze the life out of you and render you barely functional. And I have never given anyone that much power over me. Now, is that a good thing? Perhaps not.

I wish you bluebirds in the spring
To give your heart a song to sing
And then a kiss, but more than this
I wish you love

And in July a lemonade
To cool you in some leafy glade
I wish you health
But more than wealth
I wish you love

My breaking heart and I agree
That you and I could never be
So with my best
My very best
I set you free

I wish you shelter from the storm
A cozy fire to keep you warm
But most of all when snowflakes fall
I wish you love

I wish you love

I dream of going 'round the world

2008-07-05T01:42:00.004+08:00

I’m jealous of my friends who will be seeking their fortunes in strange lands. One is going to Singapore to find work and perhaps build a life of service there. Another is going to Beijing for further studies. And yet another will try her luck in the city that never sleeps. And me, I’m still here.

I’ve always wanted to travel – I think since I was a kid, I’ve wanted to see the big, wide world. But we weren’t rich and didn’t have the luxury in staying in hotels and flying in airplanes. So I had to content myself with pictures and books.

And now I’m through with school and earning a living, but traveling still seems like a faraway dream. I try and visit local tourist spots but I still want to go visit other places apart from our country. When I read the newspapers – I read almost 10 newspapers everyday for my job – I always keep those articles of places I want to visit someday. (Oh, I dream of Thailand!) And when I come across helpful sites or other informational material, I keep it for future reference because I’m confident I’ll be able to use them in the future.

There is one such site that makes it quite easy to find a place to stay wherever you want to go. You just have to choose the place – be it Manila, Beijing, Rome – and enter the dates of your visit and it’ll show you the available hotels in the area and other related info such as how much does it cost to stay a night, etc. If you’re planning to travel anytime soon, you can check it out here. Hotelscombined is free to use and will help you find the perfect place for your budget and itinerary.

But of course, since I’m not traveling YET, I mean to use this in the future. My sister and I have a dream of going on a backpacking trip with no real itinerary. This site will be really of great use. I hope I get to fly out of this country for the first time soon, real soon. Like next year soon. Just for a change of view.

make a to-do

2008-06-24T11:09:00.007+08:00

"When we are unable to find tranquility within ourselves, it is useless to seek it elsewhere."

- Francois de la Rochefoucauld

I used to make lists everyday. To do lists. Lists of expenses. Lists of chores. Lists of books I want or need to read. Lists of movies to watch. Lists of meetings and lunch dates with friends and the-no-so friends. List of prayer requests and thanksgivings and people and things and places to pray for.

Every once in a while, I'd write lists of what I like about myself or what I don't like. I wrote of characteristics I want and need to change/keep. I'd post on my closet door a list of my goals and hopes. There were lists of my current favorite artists, songs, and films on my numerous notebooks. It almost seemed like if I didn't put them down on paper, I would forget who I was, where I was going, and what I treasure the most. It's as if I make lists to pin myself to specific periods of time and space so I will not re-visit the past too much or yearn for the future too often.

I tell myself I need to make lists. Lists of what I need to buy, lists of prayer requests, lists of people to invite for my 22nd birthday. But I keep forgetting. Or I'm too tired to think. Is this the reason I'm in fragments - not damaged but all over the place, like pieces of me were left in places hard to return to?

first

2008-06-20T01:24:00.006+08:00

"There is nothing more dreadful than imagination without taste."

- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Blame the French for the inspiration. Blame the jeepney driver for choosing to play that song at the exact moment he chose to. Blame films for having that power to ignite in me the passion to create.

After Ma vie en l’air, my mind was still buzzing and I could hear French people talking in my head. It was so light and fluffy like a simple but absolutely delicious sponge cake with cream in between two layers. It left me drooling, or wanting to drool, for love. And also made me vulnerable to the mushiest of memories.

On the jeepney ride home, the song was playing. It is one of the cheesiest, most gag-inducing songs in the world but it transported me to six years ago. It was the only piece he could play on the piano so whenever I hear it, I remembered. I’m both disgusted and amused when I recall how I constantly listened to the instrumental version when he was abroad for several months. He was my first intense “like,” you could say.

Anyway, while he was away, I harbored illusions, delusions, actually, that we’d be a couple when he returned because he and his fiend of a girlfriend broke up. (Ask him, our friends. The girl was really something else.)

Needless to say, getting together didn’t happen. And I am glad, because we are not as kindred as I thought we were. We are still very much friends and still see each other regularly. But it would have been like wearing red pumps with orangey trousers. We are trekking towards totally different paths. I’ve grown up, he’s grown up, we’ve grown up. You learn somewhere along the way that just because two people get along well enough doesn’t mean they should be together.

What with figuring out the rest of my life, juggling two jobs and several ministries, and trying to maintain a healthy writing discipline– it makes me glad I don’t have to worry about the love stuff yet. I don’t even have crushes anymore. Which means I now care less about what I wear. No object of affection, less vanity.

It’s just so funny how I thought, at fifteen, that I would marry this guy. I was so darn sure at the time. Can you blame me – I was in high school!

every little thing you do

2008-06-15T23:58:00.007+08:00

"Human beings have an inalienable right to invent themselves."

- Germaine Greer

A good friend and I had once agreed never to codify the magic that is Elbi. But sometimes you gotta break the rules. And it's not as if I will attempt to codify Elbi and generalize its value to generations of its current and former inhabitants. I will merely write from the freshest encounter, something like catching bubbles - knowing full well they will burst with your touch.

I remember saying that once you leave Elbi, the place has become your ex but you keep coming back for make-up sex (disclaimer: I am an advocate of abstinence and am anti-premarital sex but there's just no other way to describe it).

Sarahlicious stated correctly that she knew something was wrong whether with my writing, my work, or my life in general when I visited Elbi twice in the same month last year. It's like missing being in a womb, I still need nurture once in a while.

I have to say Elbi has a life of its own. It has a truly unique breathing pattern and a sense of time that its residents will soon adapt whether they choose to or not. The very place has a heart beat. Your love affair with Elbi is a mutually beneficial relationship. The place feeds from you and you feed from the place. But mostly it feeds from you - it needs a collective bunch of people to sustain its life whereas people only need a pint of its life to be rejuvenated. I think.

Sad to admit, I have not written one piece of fiction since I have graduated exactly thirteen months and seventeen days ago (I hope my math is correct). But I have an inkling this state is about to fade. I stayed a weekend at Elbi with my former teacher and his wife, a very dear friend and batchmate. It was a typical Elbi lazy day - drinking coffee, watching movies, having good conversation.

Former teacher was seated at their dining table, writing. I remembered me when I write. We talk to ourselves, create big motions with our hands, stop for a while, ask vocabulary and data related questions to people around. And I missed writing.

I took out my laptop and wrote two pages of a short story. I do not know when I will finish it but those minutes when I was writing was the most joy-filled of the week. I do not believe that it has to do with time management or finding material to write or being too tired. But being in Elbi made me feel like myself again. And the me that I know, writes.

Note: The tree in the picture above is no more. Milenyo has made it just another piece of wood. How apt.

I want to name my kid after her

2008-06-08T00:54:00.007+08:00

"Dreams that do come true can be as unsettling as those that don't."

- Brett Butler

I often have these series of 'infatuations" with people or books or films. Mostly people. When in this phase, I will rummage the Internet for any info about the certain person - articles, wikipedia entries, videos, and random blogs. I especially go to YouTube not for the videos but for the comments.

Usually, the object of my "infatuation" it's an artist/musician. In that case, I will be downloading songs like crazy. (The latest before this, however, was a politician: Barack Obama. Believe it or not, I've read a good number of his speeches.) However, my current infatuation (And also the reason why I haven't been updating. I've been religiously watching the French Open.) is someone from the field of sports - which is really weird as I am so not a physically active person, although I love to watch basketball, swimming, diving, floor gymnastics, tennis, volleyball, and figure skating.

French Open season is nearly over, but my brouhaha has yet to die down. Jelena Jankovic, or JJ, is the object of my Internet immersion to all things JJ. She is a Serbian tennis player, currently ranked #3 in the world. She recently lost in the French Open semi-finals to fellow Serb and now #1 Ana Ivanovic.

I had often watched tennis matches in the past but I rarely care who's playing. I first noticed Jelena because of her amazing footwork in the clay court. Since then, I've been watching her matches. She plays good baseline defense but really needs to play more aggressively to win a Grand Slam title.

The thing I really like about her is that she's so funny on and off court. (You have got to watch that footage where she invited a ball boy to sit with her during break) When you watch her interviews, she's light-hearted, humble, and witty. Wala lang. I just like her, period. I've been watching too many interviews of her, so much so that in my brain I'm speaking in a Serbian accent.

I also like Ana Ivanovic. She's definitely prettier but Jelena has that quirky and sensual element that adds to her appeal. And Ana always does this annoying fist pump (with foot pop) like she's rubbing her points in her opponent's face. But you gotta give it to her, she's good. Just bordering annoying.

Anyhoo, so long to JJ's chance for winning French Open 2008. BUT, Wimbledon is still up for grabs. I'm crossing my fingers. Thank God for Balls channel in Sky Cable.

I just wanna be at the beach - again!

2008-05-28T12:21:00.006+08:00

Finally! My summer beach dream has come true. It was a getaway (to Laiya, Batangas) well deserved. And - I succeeded in challenging myself to swim past the "safe zones" aka I can no longer see the depth of the water. Not that I needed pushing - swimming or being in the water is one of the rare physical activities that I like. If I believed in past lives (but I don't) I think, I might have been a mermaid - albeit, a chubby mermaid.

That's me and Anna transfering pictures to the laptop.

Playing catch (actually, posing like we're playing catch)

kid building sandcastles (this is my current wallpaper - love it!)

Yun lang. Just so happy I got to get away from the city, from the office, from being cooped in. =D

the kiddies of my future

2008-05-21T18:48:00.004+08:00

Children are the living messages we send

to a time we will not see.

~John W. Whitehead, "The Stealing of America" 1983

I've wanted to have kids since I was, like, twelve. I even created a list of what I will NOT do when I became a parent - of course, that was probably out of childhood spite that everybody felt at one point in their lives.

At sixteen, I had already started to research on names that I would fit my future offspring. I also had a mental list of hobbies or talents I would cultivate - such as music, swimming, ballet, art, etc. Probably why I played SIMS so much. It felt like practice.

I also took on a new ministry - teaching kids at Sunday School in my church. I love kids and I love learning and telling stories so it was a good match. Until I handled a group of 9 year old boys and they nearly drove me crazy. I told myself God was preparing me for a son someday - which makes sense since I don't have brothers or close male cousins so I had absolutely no idea how a boy is raised.

Then I graduated from college and some friends got pregnant, one got married. Some of my high school batchmates already had families. I guess it kinda dawned on me that it's takes more than just a simulation to prepare you for motherhood and wife-hood. It's life in your hands. Which also comes with the realization that whatever you do, you're bound to screw up your kid sine we're all imperfect and fallen.

At the office, when colleagues and bosses bring their kids around - at the same day! - it gets to be handful and sometimes the noise just drills into my head. For some amazing reason, kids have project their voices as if their playmate is in another mountain. And I think: I'm never gonna have that many kids or else I might strangle them.

While commuting, I often empathize with parents who have their kids with them - not because they have kids but because commuting is a hassle in itself, what more if you have extra lives to keep safe?

They say the twenties is the time for self discovery and experimentation. It's when you figure yourself out and where your place is in the world. I guess I'm doing that. Like all border-OC people, I have plans and goals and dreams. That's not the bad part. What scares me if that the way I've been planning my future lately - it leaves no space for a husband and a family. Somehow, all I can see is up to that point where I trek on my own - which in tangible terms translate up to age 28.

I definitely do not see myself being single for the rest of my life. I would drive myself crazy. And that's far worse than any craziness induced by a marriage and a kids which - I often forget - comes with a great bonus of love and belonging-ness and a chance to make the world a better place through the next generation.

stop staring

2008-05-11T23:25:00.005+08:00

Technophia: Irrational fear of technology

My uncle installed our wireless router this morning. And the moment I saw it, with its blinking green and orange lights, a fear crept into me. I don't really know what to call it. I wouldn't go as far as to say I'm scared silly of technology. I have a laptop, a desktop, two cell phones, a digicam. I'm online an average of 10 hours a day. Computers are a necessity in my life.

But somehow when I saw that router - I felt stalked. Like all the eyes of the world were seeing me, my room. Like the virtual web of connections flashed through the sight of my brain. Like the world just got bigger and bigger and bigger. And somehow, it's like a warning. Like it's telling me that what was meant for good has mutated and that it'll turn against us. Someday. Eyes, eyes, and lots of eyes.

Roadkill

2008-05-09T13:41:00.009+08:00

Life's like a road that you travel on

When there's one day here and the next day gone

Sometimes you bend sometimes you stand

Sometimes you turn your back to the wind

- Tom Cochrane "Life is a Highway"

Today, on my way to work, I saw a white kitten lying on its back with paws protecting its face. The kitten was squished flat, with its insides splattered on the road. There was a look of terror in the kitten’s face – like it felt every bit of the weight of the vehicle that run it over.

Why am I writing about a dead cat, when I can just dismiss it and go on with my life, my plans for the day, etc? Because, poor, poor cat. Poor cat – nobody even cares enough to take you out of the street.

Being the sanguine-melancholic that I am, I look pretty normal, perky even on the outside. But the events of the past week have taken much of my confidence in myself and what I can do. Worrying about my future does not help, too. I guess I join all the twenty-somethings out there who go to work everyday and still feel like they’re going nowhere.

Add this to the fact that I’ve really gained weight that makes me want to stay in bed all the time. (Yeah, and I’ll lose the fats that way) I don’t want to put on clothes anymore. This is the Ilia who usually plans outfits two weeks beforehand.

I question everything that I thought myself to be. For the moment, I don’t believe I can do it. Whatever “it” is.

Something is wrong with me. I’m out in the big bad jungle and the wild creatures are ready to devour me. I want to understand where this heavy, pressing emotions come from, but I still can’t.

On the lighter side, here is the graph I made to present my state of emotional and mental health. Yes, I took the time to make this graph. Haha. Which tells you that I am still very functional and not in any way on the brink of insanity.

If life is a highway, and all the other people are cruising along whether just for kicks, or with real destinations in mind – then I am the white kitten in terror with its guts exposed for the world to see.

(I am aware that years from now, I read this post and I go – Ewww, why am I so emo? :D But knowing this does not negate my sentiment of the moment.)

tumbling down

2008-05-05T00:50:00.003+08:00

"There's never been a true war that wasn't fought between two sets of people who were certain they were in the right."
- Neil Gaiman, American Gods

I don't usually go emo on my blog because I think that my few (if any) readers deserve better material than whiny crap. But I'll make an exception this time. I spent most of the weekend marathon-watching old episodes of One Tree Hill. I love its theme song which was sung by Gavin DeGraw. I remember that I could always sing it with conviction: I don't wanna be anything other than what I've been trying be lately.

But lately, I want to be anything other than what I've been in the past few weeks. It's not so much that I've had a really, really crappy two weeks - the worst two weeks since I started working. It's that uncertain, teetering feeling, bordering on disgust with yourself. That I don't even want to get up from bed because every time I do, I screw up.

I guess what I'm saying is that I'm not happy with myself - physically, emotionally, mentally. Especially, since I know that I'm supposed to be living a life that's glorifying God, and I'm falling short. Way short. I'm not happy about where I'm going, if I'm going anywhere at all. It feels like I'm turning into a monster. I am not exaggerating, introspection has led me to this conclusion. The whole flurry of life - work, responsibilities, future direction, my writing, and most importantly, my relationship with God - it's just oh-so crazy. I'm counting on my God to yank me back to the path.

Since songs pretty much provide the illustrations of my life, I am reminded of a kid's bible song:

The foolish man built his house upon the sand
and the rains came tumbling down
the rains came down
and the floods came up
and the house on the sand went
CRASH!

Mind travel

2008-04-24T01:22:00.004+08:00

"If the student is ready, the teacher will come."
- As told to me by Mam A. (don't really know who originally said it)

It has taken me this long to honestly say without ifs, buts, and howevers that I really truly like what I do. But oftentimes during this past week, I would catch myself musing and wondering what they were doing in that other island I could have had a chance to visit. I could have been read. I could have been lambasted. I could have. But, it wasn't for me -- not yet.

just another ilia moment

2008-04-07T14:18:00.004+08:00

" No matter how bad you are, you are not useless. You can always be used as a bad example."
- From I don't know who

I realize that I haven't posted anything for like three weeks, or written anything else, actually. I've been too busy contemplating about the future a.k.a. the next six months and beyond.

I know I'm not going to be in my current job forever, that for sure. I actually don't even feel that it's a job. Scratch that - it doesn't feel like I have a job. It's like a floating, limbo world where I'm part of the labor force but really a bum undercover - if that makes any sense.

I think my only real dream since I was a kid was to be a writer: see my words, my stories on paper and be read by the whole wide world. Yeah, sure, I dreamt of being an astronaut, a crime scene investigator, a orthopedic doctor, a lawyer, and many more but it would always go back to me writing.

But flightiness is part of me - I'm wont to change my mind every month or so. I have sort of a new dream now which involves studying again and moving to a different island but it's driving me crazy trying to figure out if I really, truly want this or if it's yet another whim that I'll be over by the time June comes rolling.

A place for us who dare speak out

2008-03-17T15:06:00.004+08:00

"He dreams of a world without weeds."

- The Constant Gardener

So instead of finishing some work I brought home over the weekend, I watched The Constant Gardener last night. It was an amazing film - how can anyone expect less of Fernando Meirelles? However, I am not writing to rave about the merits of the film. Something else struck my heart.

The character that Rachel Weisz plays, Tessa, was an activist, a very passionate and compassionate woman with a sharp tongue. Tessa met Justin (played by the sensual Ralph Fiennes) when Justin delivered a lecture for a colleague and Tessa bombarded him with attacks disguised as questions. At the end of the lecture, Justin tells Tessa, "You're scary, you know." And thus began their love.

This is what struck me. I have been called scary by the opposite sex, too. I have been told that I intimidate men (boys, most likely) with my opinions and outspoken remarks. My friends wish that still unknown guy in the future luck in "handling" me.

This is what I am. I am outspoken, opinionated, independent. I am not the meek and gentle girl who is stereotyped as the perfect wife. This is who I am, and I doubt the years will change that. My principles might change, but my voicing them out loud will not.

So does this mean that I am doomed to spinsterhood just because I feel deeply about most things? Should I water myself down so some guy would even have the courage to consider me? Does this mean I should just nod my head in agreement while secretly grinding my teeth in rage? Because most of the time, when I'm saying my piece, I feel all the men wishing I would just hold it in and not prolong the discussion. Or should I voice of an initiative, or a ministry I am burdened to do, there is no support, only closed mouths and stares as if I had proposed that we blow up the world into smithereens.

Why is it that when a man fights hard for something such as justice, fairness, and all that - people regard him as a hero, as a beacon of light in this muddy world? But, BUT, when it is a woman who is doing the fighting, who is working in the way she knows how - she is looked upon as brash, hard, unladylike, aggressive, scary? Is the world that scared of "unbridled" women?

Are the Justins who fall in love with passionate, fiery women mere figments of our imagination? Please tell me such men exist.

I do not want to be alone for the rest of my life. But neither do I want to loved just because I keep my mouth shut and my ideas caged in my brain.

Is my outspokenness going to be the death of even the possibility of love affairs for me?

sifting

2008-03-14T17:54:00.003+08:00

"Suffering is not an illness; it is the normal counterpole to happiness."

- May Sarton

For the past month, I have been challenging myself to write poetry. I have written poetry in the past, but it wasn't disciplined writing. Now, I have been seriously working on it. There have been tangible results and output - but whether they are of good quality remains to be seen. I so desperately want affirmation that indeed I can write poetry. It's not a matter of whether I have the right to write in that genre, it's whether I can. Because if it turns out that the poetry I write is as good as cow's dung then I might as well pour all my efforts in fiction since I have proven, to some extent, that I can write good fiction.

Ika nga ni Ma'am A. - I have to find my voice. And this is part of the process.

children are the future?

2008-03-03T18:28:00.003+08:00

"Doctors are sadists who like to play god and watch lesser people scream."

- Juno

Stands by the staircase, the camera slung across the shoulders. Children and once children head out from a kiddie birthday party. One of the girls asks who the camera belongs to. The girl's sister interrupts and says pointedly: No way you could afford that camera, you're not rich enough.

Some semblance of righteous anger sears and longs to clench the child's jaw, press her against the wall, and skin her bourgeois ass and make her tell, pray tell, what the difference is between her ass and that of the guard standing watch over the subdivision she lives in, or the ass of the yaya who practically raised her, or the teacher who educates her.

This is the young face of condescension. This is the generation this generation is breeding.

Are the birthdays of such children worth celebrating? Let us put ashes on our heads.

Seeing

2008-02-21T13:11:00.003+08:00

I have just finished Saramago's "Seeing" and I am baffled out of my brains. It was good and deeply satisfying. But I really need to read the first novel, "Blindness."

On a personal enlightenment note:

I now know why I have never dreamt of this person within the entire duration of our acquaintance. It is because I have never desired him - never had, never will. He never went past through my consciousness and into the murky waters of the so-called 'unconscious.' Sometimes my brain works too hard for my own good.

My personal motto has always been "Give yourself the license to change your mind."

Now there is a new addition:

If there is no desire, do not even consider pursuing it - no matter how sensible it may seem.

Can I, will I, should I?

2008-02-14T12:23:00.002+08:00

"A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn, not easily mended."
- Ian McEwan (Atonement)

When it comes to Biblical romantic encounters, the one character who is almost always set as the epitome of a woman who is neither passive nor aggressive is Ruth. She is one of the two women who has an entire book in the Bible dedicated all to her lonesome. And she is also among the five females mentioned in the genealogy of Jesus. So indeed, she is one of THE women to emulate.

Her story is one of the most amazing seduction stories in history. Ruth is a widow, a foreigner, and a very poor woman who gathers the left-overs of the harvest. But somehow, she provides a catalyst for Boaz, her husband's next of kin, to take action and take her as his wife.

What she does is she wears perfume, puts on her best clothes, and then proceeds to lie next to Boaz as he sleeps in the threshing floor. That was an extremely compromising situation - especially since Israelites are known to stone 'sexually immoral' women.

In essence, her actions asked the question: Boaz, are you willing to take me in - protect me, provide for me, and be my man? And her risk was well invested. Soon she and Boaz were married and she became the grandmother of one of the greatest men in the history of Israel, the man after God's own heart, King David.

Now why, all of a sudden, am I contemplating upon Ruth's story? Because a lot of people have been pushing me to "pull a Ruth." To settle the score once and for all. To end the confusing drama - which had it been a soap opera, nobody would watch anymore.

The question to ask here is not whether I can "pull a Ruth." I know I can, given the right timing, the right circumstances.

The question, the million-dollar life-changing question is: Do I want to pull a Ruth?

I don't think I do.

blueprint

2008-02-08T09:51:00.000+08:00

"It is an unvarying rule for those in power that, when it comes to heads, it is best to cut them off before they start to think, afterwards, it might be too late."

-Jose Saramago (Seeing)

Finally started on making the dress. Now it's either I am sewing something or destroying perfectly good tafetta. Cross your fingers so that it'll be the former.

My brain is buzzing with ideas, the top two are:

1. How to help my Sunday School kids who know how to read in English but do not understand a word of it. I have had this burden for a long time now because I am very saddened by the fact that they have poor reading comprehension skills.

2. Start a Christian single women's group to provide a venue for discussion, comradeship, and share various issues that are considered 'taboo' but we just can't help but think or even worry about. Hope those who I'm eyeing are willing to join.

For the first time since I had a job, I have concrete plans, real plans. Plans. Yay.

2008-02-02T01:00:00.000+08:00

After years of complaining about having a boring life and practically non-existent love life, some semblance of a pursuit blooms. But I retreat back to my shell - I love my boring, comfortable life after all. Is boring better than questions such as: will you, will you not? If yes, when? If no, why?

And also because the pursuit is more interesting than the pursuer. Which is a euphemism for "I am not interested."

This is exactly the reason why I am a fan of friends turned lovers. So that scenarios like this are unnecessary.

warm and cuddly

2008-01-25T17:15:00.000+08:00

Ever since I watched Golden Compass - I have had an increased love for polar bears. I have a thing for bears and all things cuddly and safe since I was a kid so seeing this picture in the newspaper this morning super made my day:

The polar bear cub's name is Flocke - German for "Snowflake". He is in a zoo in Nuremberg where he is separated from his mother for fear that the mother will harm him.

Diba? Ang super cute niya. I'm keeping the picture near my desk so everytime I glance at it - despite pressure and stress from work - I can feel warm and fuzzy. Ang cute ni Flocke!!!

Mag zookeeper na lang kaya ako, pero di sa Pinas kasi walang polar bear dito, haha. =D Pero I always say, I like animals, but I don't like pets especially because they invade your personal space with poop and pee.

For more of the story, see here and there.

*pics from aol.com

Foreign Encounters

2008-01-16T16:28:00.000+08:00

"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: What! You, too? I thought I was the only one."

- C. S. Lewis

The following two incidents are indeed real and based on fact.

1. Watching I am Legend in peace - or rather, at peace with the free onslaught of comments and questions voiced aloud. While rabid vampire dogs put human and canine protagonists in danger, bald white guy in the row ahead turns around and threatens, too, "If you guys don't shut up, I'll have you thrown out of the cinema." Too taken aback to muster a witty retort, sits in silent fuming anger for the rest of the in-another-circumstance-it-would-have-been-utterly-enjoyable movie. Apparently, when some Americans are in this side of the world, they lose their manners - If they had any before stepping on Philippine soil.

2. Crossing the busy street where sampaguita sellers abound and cars constantly clog the lanes, a black SUV car with its windows down reveal a Caucasian guy behind the wheel with a camera held in his hand (and a Filipina seating in the passenger seat looking glum) - obviously taking advantage of the signal light indicating 'stop'. Looking around to see what could possibly be worth capturing on film or digital data; two kids, boy and girl, standing in front of the car window carrying sampaguita strands on one hand with grins as wide as they can manage, pose Korean style facing the guy's camera. Never knew that children whose means of living is leveraging on people's pity and sympathy are a rich source of entertainment and possibly bragging displays: Lookee here, I've been to the Philippines, see how happy they all are!

dream boy (?)

2008-01-10T13:54:00.000+08:00

"We are not primarily called to do something or go somewhere; we are called to Someone."

-Os Guiness

I had the strangest dream involving my barely-of-legal-age crush. It was a hodge-podge of events ending with him calling me to let me know of his whereabouts. It was the first time that I dreamt of the person so it had a ticklish effect on me that stayed for almost the entire day. The dream felt so real, I couldn't shake it off.

I have this thing that if I dream of one of my harmless crushes, it will turn into a humongous infatuation that lasts for at least a week. Thank goodness, I'm not close with this person so there is almost nothing to fantasize about since imagination is founded on information at hand.

It's been a long time since I last had a 'crush' so this has been fun.

Whole Wide World

2008-01-07T22:52:00.000+08:00

"I know. I want you too."

Here's a clip of one of my favorite movies: Stranger Than Fiction. Pag ako ang kinantahan ng kanta na yan, ewan ko na lang. Haha.

hey, you're breathing my air

2007-12-08T15:53:00.000+08:00

"Even love does not guarantee they're not going to hurt each other. If anything, it makes it a likelihood."

- from the movie Prime

I went out of the house to the nearby coffee shop to be with myself, write, and have coffee. Instead, I got two churchmates also in the same place talking about - what else? - love life. (Love is in the air. It's haunting me) I didn't take notice of them at first, but the voices sounded familiar, so I glanced sideways and recognized them.

I didn't say hi, not because I'm a snob, but so that no one's brunch would be ruined. The concrete acknowledgement that we three occupied that same small space at the same time would have just made us all conscious of that fact and therefore would hinder their free conversation and my free thinking.

And after 30 minutes, an old schoolmate also entered the cafe. What does it take to have some alone time? My phone is my new bestfriend, its radio feature allowed me to use the earphones and pretend I was spaced out and stuck in my own world.

The two hours were not as I wanted them to be but I did get to write, on paper. Which made me aware of the fact that I haven't written anything on paper for the past three months except minutes, notes, strategic plans, contact numbers, and budget allocations. I wasn't used to putting my thoughts to paper anymore and that scared me. I don't want to be "that girl who used to write in college."

this post is all over the place

2007-12-05T14:08:00.000+08:00

"The lover who deosn't forget sometimes dies of excess, exhaustion, and tension of memory."

- Roland Barthes (A Lover's Discourse)

I haven't felt like eating for the past few days. I do feel hungry, but the thought of eating makes me gag. I love seafood and I passed up on shrimps. Something must be wrong. And I do not want to admit that "it" is what is making me anxious - ergo, no appetite whatsover. Not that I'm complaining. This will finally help me take off the "bum" weight I gained.

I'm also feeling very hormonal. My theory is I am experiencing a surge of hormones that my body has managed to keep at bay. Or that's being typically female - to blame hormones for everything. My body and mind have not been totally adjusted to the fact that I now belong to the working class. Also, since I've starting working, my period has been irregular. That tells you something because after I turned eighteen, I've always had a regular period cycle.

I have been treading between life and work and play. Something is changing the current - I can no longer be in my complacent floating stage. Swim or drown.

2007-11-23T10:52:00.000+08:00

I haven't written in this blog for a loooong time. I'm back with trivial raves:

1. I heard this song on the radio yesterday and fell in love. I love the beat of the song, it's perfect for walking. I call songs like that 'catwalk songs' because you set your walking pace to the rhythm of the song. Also, I have loved the band since Songs about Jane. It's Maroon 5 with Won't go home without you

2. "Live, love, life, don't deny it!" My newest addiction - Tropicana Twister (Orange). Yum. I mentioned to a friend that I probably spend about 5oPhp everyday for Tropicana. He retorted in jest that I only work just to be able to have money to buy my precious orange juice. But I'm trying to minimize my addiction because it's so costly.

3. Neil Gaiman's in town! Sunday, 3pm, Fully-Booked Bonifacio, High Street. Hope I can go.

Eto ang naiimagine kong conversation (as if) between me and Mr. Gaiman when I get the chance to have him autograph my copy of American Gods which I have not finished reading yet.

I: I'm such a fan. I love your work.
G: Oh, thanks. So how did you find the novel?
I: Actually, I haven't read it yet.
G: You poser!

Hahaha.

s(p/l)ice of life

2007-11-09T08:42:00.000+08:00

Ako, namimili ng pagkain sa jolly jeep nang may makitang gulay na di mo malaman kung munggo o laing.

I: Ate, laing to?
A: Oo.
I: Maanghang? (Kasi gusto ko maanghang na laing)
A: Ah....um, hindi naman.
I: Ay ganun? (binalik ang laing sa plastic basket) Gusto ko maanghang e.
A: Hindi, maanghang yan. Maanghang yan, pramis.

*In fairness, 10 pesos lang siya. Masarap nga. Maanghang naman.

2007-11-05T00:48:00.000+08:00

Sadya bang may mga nilalang na ibibigay sa buhay mo para pasanin? To my small web of friends - I am the giver of advice, the soundboard, the sense-maker. I am tired. It is taxing to be forever making sense of other people's lives, other people's baggage. The worst of it is we keep going around in circles, like dogs chasing their own tails. It is always the same things, over and over and freaking over again. We all have brains, and hearts, and intutions, and guts. Why do you insist on using mine? One had said, I have to accept that it is my gift. Burden, perhaps, is more exact. Is this the reason why I often cannot make heads or tails of my own life - because I have no more sense left for me?

At least for now

2007-10-28T17:59:00.000+08:00

This is not a poem.
Just statements one after the other, in no particular order.
I walked along edsa with John Mayer in my ear.
I looked up to see the MRT packed to the seams.
My feet were in flats - ugly but comfortable flats.
12 peso-ice cream melted in my mouth.
I realized, I am content.

2007-10-25T21:24:00.001+08:00

I haven't gone away. I'll be back.
As soon as my nose isn't clogged anymore and my head doesn't feel as stuffy.

'all by my lonesome'

2007-10-14T18:17:00.000+08:00

"We're going down.

And you know that we're doomed.

My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room."

- John Mayer (Slow Dancing in a Burning Room)

My tell-tale eyes made last night's secret cry known. Red, like a prophet of doom, has been warning me of this. But I have successfully fooled myself - until now - that I remain unscathed and will, in all likeliness, remain so. But no more, I now believe that graduation was not just some 5-hour ritual - it was the swift and clean blow that took me from being a resident to a visitor.

I never dreamt it would be so hard. Graduation was by no means the one and only medium of severity. The diaspora began way before that, but saying goodbye to the university cut all ties I was once bound to. I feel as if I am floating, because nothing, no one holds me down. Doing it myself is hard hard work.

As best I can recall, never before had I been in want of a friend. But now, all my soul connections are so far away, I am as good as friendless. Yes, I do have what you may call friends (and old and 'close' friends as well) but they can't or won't give what I need. It has been a long while since I felt that stirring in my heart that tells me I am in the presence of 'kindred'. I may hear from them once in a while but it is not the same. It is not what I have been used to.

I feel alone. No one to tell of a bad day I had. No one to complain to. No one to be ecstatic, ballistic, silly, trivial, pathetic and all spectra of emotions with. No one to be just quiet with. Just me and the vague ghosts of those I love.

You may read this and think to yourself how dramatic I am being. But it is truly hard to be transplanted, away from the immediate proximity of the people you had leaned for support and from the nourishing environment where you had flourished. Don't get me wrong, I like my life now, it's all good. It's company I need. As Red said, "It is lonely in the jungle."

I used to be proud of my ability to make friends easily. But I may not be as good in keeping them. Life gets in the way.

earth to ilia

2007-10-09T15:03:00.000+08:00

For quite a few months now, I have had this notion that everything is a dream, a joke, anything but concrete reality. Wherever I go, whatever time of day, I can't shake of this feeling of surreality. When I was a kid, I used to stare at the ceiling at night and a feeling would come over me, something that told me we weren't really alive, that we're just God's dreams. And now this - whatever it may be - has come back to haunt me. The world, all existence seems unreal. It feels like I am no longer connected to my world. Like everything I do, say, and think just floats around, leaving not an imprint. There is no weight, no burden, no heaviness. I have come close to wishing a crisis to happen so I can grasp life again. I haven't even cried, really cried in months. I am in dire need of catharsis.

I try to recall when I last felt most alive - and somehow I can't remember exactly. Every memory I try to catch turns out to be just a wisp, like the wick of candle just snuffed out. What I know is that I need to write. Really write again, not just this sporadic blogging - but crafting, creating. Put down my nearly-crazy thoughts to paper, to make them concrete, hard, tangible, real. I am scared that I no longer know how - no longer able thread words and sentences and paragraphs, no longer able to feel joy the wonderful roll of words on my tongue, no longer able to define, to tackle the things I face. Instead, I fear I may only be able to grab at a handful of air like a child who jumps to seize a balloon that has already flown up and away.

an elbi night

2007-10-05T13:34:00.000+08:00

(I wanna be sort of like her, with a smile so bright)

What with losing my wallet, my toes bleeding while wandering around Greenhills in yet-to-be-broken-in pumps, waking up to shouting, and a response not quite satisfactory, yesterday was the best day I had all week. Why, you may ask? Just the sight of my beloved elbi uplifts my heart. What more will people you love and who love you back do for your spirits?

My ecstatic congratulations to Pantas for giving birth to yet another folio, "Recordamos." And for still welcoming me warmly for the celebration - it means you're probably not that tired of my face yet. I missed being in an environment where I don't have to prove anything to anybody anymore.

It was nice to not have any cares, even for just a little while. Even if the consequence is that you go to work a bit wasted the next day.

so-called enemies

2007-10-01T10:48:00.000+08:00

"There are certain people you keep coming back to."

-All at Once by The Fray

Apt has become one of my favorite words. Because it sounds so apt. Because for a three letter word, it's exact and certain, as most short words are. Because a lot of things in my life have been so apt lately - including this most recent discovery of yet another 'apt' thing. Today is October 1, the start of Oktoberfest (a side note: the Oktoberfest song is pretty cute, but maybe I'm just biased since Ebe Dancel is one of the singers).

And I, too, am having a festival of my own, only it's not festive at all because it's the season of my 'hate'-fest. Every so often, I enter into this phase where I can't help it that the sight of a particular person, the mere mention of a name, or anything remotely related to that person sends me in a 'trip your feet-hope you fall flat on your face' frenzy. Sometimes the reasons are valid, sometimes they're not. Even super friends have not been exempt from these flashes of consuming annoyance. And I must admit that the combined emotions of hate, irritation, hurt, and rage are enjoyable to some degree - the kind of mixed joy you get from picking at a scab.

In this case, the reasons are valid but have been blown out of proportion. My mind knows this but my irritation trigger fails to factor it in. Their (yes, plural) presence makes me cringe as if an insect has landed on my shoulder. And just as when an insect touches me, my instinct is to shout, "Get it off!", my instinct in this situation is to minimize interaction. I do not want to be mean - actually, I do, but I know better. So stand back. For your sake and mine.

para sa leon

2007-09-28T11:12:00.000+08:00

"If you know someone really well, it's hard to stay mad at them for very long."

- Neil Gaiman

Belated happy birthday to one of my most truest friends in the whole wide world - RED!

Let me tell you the story of our friendship:
I was a freshman when I became involved with the UPLB Navigators. He was also a member but he was one of the kuyas. I didn't warm up to him at first because he was so weird - in looks, in speech. Para siyang si Tim Robbins sa movie na IQ. Basta yun, di ko siya kinakausap, period.

And then, one fateful fortnight during my second year in college, he and I would always happen to be at Kimi's, a mutual friend, at the same time. And we started talking about random stuff and we finally discover that we both love Star Trek, LOTR, and of course, Narnia. The cherry on top was the fact that The Horse and His Boy was our favorite of the Chronicles of Narnia series. (I'm sure kung tatanungin mo siya, di na niya maaalala kung kailan kami naging friends haha)

And the rest is history: from road trips, to braving storms - literally and figuratively.

Here are his most important contributions in my life:
1. First and most significant: introducing me to coffee. I would have spent my life without knowing the joys of coffee if it were not for him.
2. Introducing Philip Yancey and Frank Herbert's Dune series to me.
3. Also - introducing kare-kare to me. Yes, di ako kumakain ng kare-kare dati kasi mukha siyang gross. Haha. But no, never judge a dish by its looks - or smell for that matter.

And lastly, for just being who he is - I seriously believe that he's the one person who gets me, all sides of me - my inner bitch, the writer in me, the Christ-believing ilia. And plus, he's the one guy I know who empathizes with women not only in theory but in practice and can almost understand what it is like to be one. He is a good person who knows what it's like to be bad and what the struggle it is to choose to be good. He's also a pessimist who hopes, an agent of change, and one who's really really passionate about the things he does and believes in.

Beware: this post is highly self-absorbed. I understand should you decide not to read on.

2007-09-23T17:08:00.000+08:00

"So revive my life, renew my vision, prepare my heart for Your purpose and Your plan."

Wow - Happy 50th post to me! =D

Grabe, I missed you, blog. If I could hug you I would, but since I can't, I merely salivate over the melting chocolate image found on the right of this blog post.

I took this online psychological test a long while back about what mental/psychological disorder I was prone to and the answer was Cyclothymia - a mood disorder milder than the bipolar disorder, wherein moods swing from hypomania (exaggerated moods of elation or irritability) and dysthymic moods (lack of pleasure or enjoyment and feelings of hopelessness).

So before this post begins to sound like a medical textbook - the point is that I found the result somehow apt as I can't seem to stay in one state of mind for any longer than two-three weeks. Of course, I can be (most of the time) both perky and bothered on cue but that is no gauge as to what I really am feeling or thinking at the moment because those moods can serve as masks. (Okay, this is eerily sounding like a PSY1 class discussion). I may be feeling blah today, but check back in a few weeks and you might get a more enthusiastic response.

Lately, I've been having what I call 'existential drama'. It can be best described as this: in one of the latter episodes in the 3rd season of Grey's Anatomy, Meredith fell into icy cold sea/ocean water. At first she tried to fight and swim but at one time, she began to think, "What's the point?" and allowed herself to drown.

We may not seek to end our lives purposely but when we come to that point where the will to survive should kick in, as Meredith did, will we swim with all our strength and say "I have to live!"?

I do believe that if and when I do encounter a similar situation, I will want to stay alive. But right now, at this moment, I want to find the joy of living, a wondrous desire to get out of bed happy every morning. I do know my purpose and that purpose is in my hope in Christ but that knowledge is yet to be transformed into all-consuming pleasure and hope. So my prayer is that I might jump out of bed every morning ready to tackle all that is placed before me.

the last hurrah

2007-09-13T03:00:00.000+08:00

"Intimacy is an eight-letter word for 'Here are my heart and soul, please grind them into hamburgers. Enjoy!'"

- by Meredith Grey from Grey's Anatomy

I have just returned from my surrogate womb. 24 hours in elbi has rejuvenated me. It was mostly about who I saw and what I ate:

- had snack with Ping, my former disciple, at Blitz
- hung out at Bean Hub with Mam A.
- saw former crushes
- General Assembly with PANTAS
- coffee slash dinner with Sarah and Jas at Coffee Blends
- sat in with Pam's discipleship group at main library
- tambay at the benches across NCAS with Sir D. and Sir C.

stomach content:
- balat ng manok and proven
- brewed coffee c/o Coffee Blends
- Toridon from EatSumo
- Butterfly bread from the bakery whose name I do not know
- Kringkles from Jericho's
- Baked Mac and buttery chocochip cookies from Micah's
- pink gulaman from the gulaman and turon stand at Vega

My beloved sister gave up her bed for me and slept on the hard, wooden 'sofa' while I had the best sleep I had in weeks. Thank goodness her housemates were good sports in dealing with an invader like me. Her apartment has cable and dsl connection - who is living the life? I hate their bathroom though. And I have forgotten how wonderful the view is at the main lib. I am refreshed and ready to tackle.....

my dinaanan-ng-bagyo room. It's as messy as my brain.

love is in the air and it makes me wanna puke or maybe I'm just envious

2007-09-08T22:51:00.000+08:00

"We say things in the grip of strong emotions that we should be wiser to forget about in later calm reflection."

- Lloyd Alexander

I made the stupid mistake of riding in a non-gender specific train car of the MRT. It was full of men - of all shapes and sizes. And it was scary. Like when in journ class, banana and I had to go to a police station for a police beat and therefore be surrounded by men in uniform - it felt like that, only worse, because in the MRT the male human species are of very, very close proximity. I was never more aware that I am a woman - with breasts and all - and it felt that they too, were fully conscious of that fact. I knew that I looked uncomfortable: shoulders hunched, darting eyes, tapping toes. I felt smothered and there was a creepy-crawly feeling in my skin like worms were feasting on me. The worse part is that the guy next to me was fanning himself with his handkerchief so the back of his hand kept bumping against my shoulder and upper arm. I wanted to yell at his ear, "You're freaking touching me! Get away!" I cannot fully articulate what I felt in that 15 minute ride.

And here's the bonus: when I got out of the train car, I saw that had I walked about ten steps more, I would have been in the car for the women, elderly, and children. Lupa, lamunin mo ako.

chopsuey (not Piolo Pascual's upcoming indie film)

2007-09-05T01:45:00.000+08:00

I'm re-reading Laura Ingalls Wilder's "The Long Winter" - it's part of the Little House series. Don't get me wrong, I like the books, I just found this sentence disturbing, in a funny way: The sky was high and quivering with heat over the shimmering prairie. I don't know if the comical thing about it is that quivering and shimmering are in the same sentence or that quivering reminds me of a scene in Ten Things I Hate About You where the weird, lusty principal writes about "his quivering member."

-------

Just watched "Invasion" with Red. And he said "We've been duped into watching a zombie film." It's not ugly-ugly, but it wasn't whoa-good. Its major upside? Nicole Kidman. She is made for the screen - whether the silver screen or the boob tube. You almost want to strangle her for looking so freaking beautiful even when her hair is stringy and her eye bags look like bruises.

The movie had so much medical jargon I wish they'd invent footnotes for films and tv shows.

-------

I feel ugly. I probably look it too.

cat food

2007-08-31T01:37:00.000+08:00

"Why is a lady too gentle to climb a tree or throw stones into the river when it's a lady's work to pick maggots from the salt meat?"

- Karen Cushman from Catherine, Called Birdy

I have this paranoia of spoilt food. Or any food that could be detrimental to my health - and I do not mean junk food. I drive my mother crazy smelling leftovers. I also smell rice, bread, milk - and if water could spoil I'd probably smell it too. Don't worry, I don't do the sniffing in the presence of any one outside my immediate family.

And now, I have a new food paranoia. As if I needed more. All thanks to this wonderful man who couldn't keep his mouth shut. I've always loved bola-bola siopao. I almost never eat the asado kind. So one day, when I was on the way home riding a jeep, the driver stopped to buy - guess what? - a bola-bola siopao. I was also seriously considering buying one too. But, the guy next to the jeepney driver blurted out, "Diba, ginagawa sa pusa ang bola-bola siopao?" Take note: the driver was already eating the siopao when he said that. Talk about ruining somebody's appetite.

And yes, I do know that the cat-turned-siopao is old news. And I know it's irrational to think that most siopaos are made of cat flesh. The probability of them being made from mashed paper is most likely. But somehow, I cannot eat bola-bola siopao anymore unless it comes from the Little Store (a quaint Chinese stop near our house) because I am confident that it is not made from cats and if you'd tasted one of their 40 pesos worth of bola-bola siopao, (expensive yes, but oh-so-fat-and-juicy!) you'd agree.

About a week ago, I found a pack of siopao in our refrigerator. It was the asado kind but I was hungry. So I steamed one and proceeded to eat it while reading a book in bed. It was obviously pork, it smelled like pork, and it tasted like pork, but somehow I couldn't get the image of cat siopao out of my head - so I spit it out and wasted a perfectly good siopao. Ooh, I hate that guy! I can probably never enjoy siopao in the same way again.

Please, may there be no controversies about wanton noodle soup because then I'd really be depressed.

2007-08-27T03:16:00.000+08:00

I may not exactly know what I want to be or what I want to do in terms of a profession but I do know one thing: I'd like to be as the old couple who usually sits on the pew behind us on Sundays. That no matter how old I am or where I may be - the grace of the gospel will always be refreshing to me as when I first heard it. That as I look at the cross, I am still teary-eyed like that old man, as I remember that while I was still a sinner, Christ died for me. That whether I be 21 or 71, amazing grace will still sound sweet to my ears. May every time I am reminded of my salvation, I will still be brought to my knees in gratefulness and joy. Oh, you angkong with a cane, and you amah in the wheelchair - you may never know what a blessing you have been to me.

2007-08-17T15:38:00.000+08:00

This will go down in history as another one of Ilia's stupid moments:

As I was walking across my room, my right foot brushed against the wooden chest we use as a glorified dump for things we don't want to throw away. The result: the flesh near the nail of my third toe got caught in a splinter. And it hurt so bad. It hurt more than when an empty can of Selecta ice cream fell on my nose three days ago - that had injured my ego more than it had inflicted physical pain because I now have a very visible cut on the bridge of my nose.

My toe hurt so much I couldn't concentrate on anything else. All I thought about was how painful it was and what I could do to make the pain go away. I wanted to cry but no tears would come. I searched for pain reliever medicine but there was none so I had to settle for Biogesic. And in order to drink the tablet, I had to eat something (I hadn't eaten anything since I woke up). So I proceeded to transfer hot wanton soup from the pot onto a bowl. But because my concentration skills had been seriously compromised, I spilled some of the soup on the floor, on the counter, and on my hand.

I then shouted at my mother who had, of course, commented on my clumsiness. I was so frustrated, I finally burst into tears - the pain in my itty-bitty toe was unbearable (Oh how true - sakit ng kalingkingan, dama ng buong katawan!) And while I muttered about how everyone around me were busybodies, I rudely dismissed my grandmother who wanted to help with the soup. If that wasn't enough, I threw high heeled shoes at the kittens who were scratching my legs with their open claws - although I don't feel guilty about that, those cats are the bane of my existence.

I now know why people in pain - be it physical or otherwise - make others miserable. They are so busy bearing the hurt and trying to forget about the constant pain that they don't have enough energy left to be nice.

this nagging pest

2007-08-12T23:17:00.000+08:00

"We really fear things which have no shape. If we decide what it looks like, give it a name, then we know what it is. And if we know what it is, we feel a little less afraid."

- Kazumi Yumoto (The Friends)

I'm baffled by what you would call hatred. But being the person that I am, I'm apprehensive about branding it as hatred indeed: Is there a word for something milder than hate - with a dash of guilt but also comes with a persisting urge to shag the hair that falls ever so nicely over her eyes?

True, her indirect influence made it highly improbable for one former hope to be fulfilled - but it's not as if I am shattered to pieces. And it's also not as if I am constantly fantasizing about ways to make the person fall flat on her face. It is only when I am within her presence that I grit my teeth as she smiles really sweetly like a toothless kid in pigtails.

She is sickeningly sweet - like burnt caramelized sugar that sticks to your throat if you were stupid enough to try and eat it. And what's more: the whole world's on her side, even those who had formerly shared in my confidences - and for that I feel betrayed. It seems like if you even as much as attempt to sass her, they will all rush to her rescue and you will be forever labeled the bad girl, the bitch, or the green-eyed monster.

I can't believe I am allowing myself to be consumed by this human irritant probably of my own contrivance. Someone please knock some sense into me. Meanwhile, I sit and wait for the light to dawn on me and I finally find out what makes her oh-so-perfect.

retail therapy works!!!

2007-08-07T01:02:00.000+08:00

As stated in my previous post, I was feeling a wee bit down last week. But the endorphins have kicked in - because I had finally purchased my perfect 'work' shoes. Granted, I do not exactly have a job yet but it doesn't hurt to be optimistic, right?

I first saw this pair in Cagayan de Oro. But I didn't have money then so I desperately wished the pair was available in Metro Manila branches. And I found it in MegaMall - so happy!!! Yes, I am being superficial, and yes, I am blogging about a pair of shoes. A pair of shoes I feel kick-ass in.

Ika nga ni Sarah Crespo: Every woman needs a pair of beautiful shoes to take her to beautiful places.

2007-08-02T18:50:00.000+08:00

I'm not happy.

It was always: pagod ako, bored ako, naguguluhan ako. Pero ngayon, hindi ako masaya.

correlation

2007-07-25T17:49:00.000+08:00

"Everybody will die, but very few people want to be reminded of that fact."

- Lemony Snicket

Since I came back from Cagayan de Oro, I haven't been reading anything new. Even being in a roomful of books during my trial stint at Scholastic Learning Center didn't arouse interest to pick up a new book. What I read while I was there was children's books for levels grade 1-3. Clack clack goes the cow. Wanda's first day. Nate the great and the monster mess. And at home, what I read are books that I've read over and over again during my short lifetime like Anne of Green Gables or Archie comics. I haven't been writing too, blog posts excluded. My last entry in my leather covered journal was dated June 23.

I wasn't really worried about not reading or writing because there had always been periods of drought for me. But now, I seem to have found the connection between my reading and my current state.

I call my current state as 'floating'. Because I don't know what to call myself - I am neither a student nor an employee. I don't 'belong' to anybody or any institution, corporation, or whatever. I have 'nothing' to do. I am floating in a wide open sea with nowhere and everywhere to go.

Now, what does this have to do with not reading anything new? I need something to hold on to, something familiar, something that has history with me. It's like I can only invest my powers of comprehension and involvement in looking for employment and 'planning a future'. I can't spare any neurons for new information or literary aesthetics - and my brain probably doesn't want to. So I grasp for the familiar, for the long well-known.

It feels like learning how to swim. You're scared of the water because you've never been there before. But you've seen other people swimming in it, so you know it can be done. You're taught how to tread the water and how to stay afloat as you try to keep your fears and apprehensions at bay. You see someone speed past you doing the butterfly stroke. You know that someday you'll be able to do that too but for now you concentrate on treading water so you can stay alive for that someday.

So, I am in good hopes that once I'm settled - settled with what remains to be seen - I'll be reading, not re-reading, again.

I would ask for your advice if I wanted it

2007-07-16T19:36:00.000+08:00

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. - Matthew 6:34"

To all you well-intentioned people:

I do know you mean well, and I appreciate your concern but not exactly the manifestations of your concern. When I was still purposefully bumming, you were all nagging me about finding a job. And now that I am on the job hunt, you're - possibly unconsciously - pressuring me to get a job with a 'good' company, competitive compensation, and finally to not let my honors go to waste. Even if I told myself that my standard for the perfect job is one that makes me want to get out of bed everyday, helps me pay the bills, and allows me to buy a few cds and books here and there - your constant inquiries make me second-guess myself, make me think that I may be well on the road of regrets. And though I know I should just tune out your doubt-inducing questions, it's really really hard for me to do that.

I would just like to remind you, and myself too, that this is my life - the only one I am accountable to is God. I don't want to be rich, I am not desperate to have a flourishing career at a multinational company, I don't need to be successful - at least not according to your terms. I want to be happy. Happy and fulfilled. And pleasing to God.

So I plead to you, please stop. My mind creates enough buzzing to confuse me without your help.

2007-07-13T12:17:00.000+08:00

Gusto ko sana magkwento tungkol sa aking job-hunting experiences, kaso tinatamad ako at pakiramdam ko napaka-insignificant nila para paglaanan ng isang blog post. Ang masasabi ko lang ay meron ako ngayon tatlong sugat sa paa at talampakan na kasing lalaki ng bente-singkong barya.

At siyempre, pagkapublish ko ng post na ito, saka ko lang nakita na friday the thirteenth pala ngayon. E ano naman?

ang nagagawa nga naman ng tatlong taong distansya

2007-07-07T23:49:00.000+08:00

"The folks I despise is them that spend all their lives doin' crummy old routine jobs with no skill in 'em at all."

- Roald Dahl ( The Hitchhiker)

I saw him, my first crush as a college freshman. He was my classmate in 2 subjects - which was as much good luck as I could have gotten because it's seldom that you are classmates with someone not of the same degree program in more than one subject a sem.

He was the reason why I was almost always early in class - while he was often late - and one of the factors why I was determined to impress, always getting perfect scores in quizzes and eventually getting a coveted uno in that subject. It was also the advantage of getting to know him that I almost joined an org. I often hoped back then that one day we'd just start chit-chatting and who knows maybe become really good friends.

He has hardly changed. He still has the same hair, the same gait, and the same weird but forgivable sort of lisp (the letter 'R' always sounded like there was a 'w'). He has glasses now though, or perhaps he has always had them, I just didn't know it. And maybe because we were in Diliman-land, where, after the warm and homey Elbi, everything seems so cold and a familiar face is always a welcome sight, he called out my name tentatively and I looked up from the book I was reading while seated Indian-crossed on the floor in that big, white, wide hall. We talked for about fifteen minutes - probably the longest conversation we had alone. Funny how things you badly wanted happen when you no longer desire it or even remember you ever wished it at all.

near departure

2007-07-03T15:04:00.000+08:00

I'll be sad to leave CDO. My mom always said that human beings are creatures of habit - do a thing 21 consecutive times and you'll probably do it in a lifetime. I have a routine here, a sort of foundation to build a life upon, plus there is family here.

Or maybe it is an escape, keeping reality at bay. In any case, I'll be back.

rose-colored glasses

2007-06-27T22:40:00.000+08:00

"It'll be fine in the end, if it's not fine then it's not the end."
- from Judging Amy

At the start of this year, I was so confident that 2007 will be a kick-ass year. That the year 2007 will be the one I would always remember as the year I won a million dollars or the year I was granted a scholarship to Oxford University. Kidding aside, I had something very specific in mind about what would make this year so spectacular. But it has not and will definitely not happen.

That got me to thinking that I might have been wrong about my enthusiastic prediction of the future due to the holiday fun, the fireworks, the feasts, and the overall warm-fuzzy feeling of the season. Then I thought: June is ending. That means the year is almost half over - the perfect time for a mid-year evaluation.

Then all these wonderful things that happened to me this year gushed out from - probably - my subconscious: like how I was able to write my first play and have it workshop-ed by amazing Filipino playwrights, or the mission trip I participated in Bicol, or having graduated on time and with honors, or how I flew to Cagayan de Oro alone, or having finally read AND finished One Hundred Years of Solitude after my 4th attempt, or how I finally mustered up the courage to do something bordering on emotionally scary so that I could have peace and sanity.

I had such a narrow expectation of what would make this year great that I almost didn't see that it was already on its way to becoming the amazing year that I had felt in my bones it was to be. And I am now also keeping in perspective that my 21st birthday (I will be legally independent!) will be coming up in less than three months - that's gotta be something to look forward to. Cheers to an insightful mid-year evaluation. Verdict: definitely kick-ass.

***I got cheery messages from friends. It feels sooooo nice to be missed.

Update

2007-06-18T16:13:00.000+08:00

"Life is not a book. You can't set it down on the coffee table and walk away from it when it gets boring or you get tired."
-Rebecca Wells

It's nice to be online again. Before I left for CDO, our stupid phone line was not working so walang DSL since June 12. Darn. I feel rested now - enjoying the reprieve from cable TV, non-stop internet, and over-sleeping.

And I have rediscovered the joys of young adult books for girls. My cousins are 12 and 13 years old and they are bookworms like me - I have so much fun reading their books especially "The Amazing Days of Abby Hayes". They are also big Roald Dahl and Jacqueline Wilson fans - hindi makakailang magkapamilya kami, may taste!!! =P I am now considering a career in that genre. Haha.

And now, a 'funny' story:

When I finished checking in at the domestic airport, I, of course, went to the waiting area. There was this middle-aged guy who asked me if I was going to Tacloban. I said no. And then he kept asking questions. I managed to somehow escape from him by painfully smiling and using my hands to motion that I was going to the comfort room.

He looked really familiar so I racked my brains to figure out where he was from. But he was really freaky, it was like, everywhere I go he was there trying to make conversation. I would smile and scurry away. He made me so paranoid.

And when I finally thought that I got a seat away from him. I saw him near the women's bathroom 'harassing' some other lady. I felt sorry for the woman but at the same time I was so happy it wasn't me. And of course I was absolutely relieved that the Tacloban flight boarded before my flight. Good riddance.

being young

2007-06-11T03:04:00.000+08:00

"On the contrary, it is words that are vague. The reason why the thing can't be expressed is that it's too definite for language."
- C.S. Lewis

I saw this episode on Oprah where her guests were 'old' women who didn't look their age. There was a 70 year old woman whom you'd mistake for a fifty year old - it was amazing. Not only did they look good, but they looked really really happy.

It made me rethink my desire to die young. Not really young-young, but like 70 young. It's because I don't want to be a bother - I hate the idea of having to depend on others and being a burden to them. I don't want to inconvenience other people when the time comes that they will have to take care of me. I have always said that in any circumstance that my being alive depended on a life-support machine, just pull the plug, pull the plug.

All of them, including Tim Gunn of Project Runway, said that it was a great living life when they already knew who they are and what they really want to do. And they said that it didn't happen until they were in their fifties. So that got me to thinking that maybe when I know what is it that I am supposed to do with my life and what my purpose is, I would like to live long. But as for now, I am only turning 21 - as Mam Amy said: Being in your twenties gives you the license to go crazy. It's the time to figure ourselves out. And I get the feeling that the road to discovery, though not without thorns, will be fun and surprising.

view

2007-06-06T00:17:00.000+08:00

I was sitting by the window on the 2nd flloor of a fast-food chain and across the street I could see an old man hailing cabs which weren't stopping for him because they already had passengers. He looked so pitiful in his crumpled blue shirt and above-the-ankle-pants - I began wonder why old men often get compassion from me while I am almost always annoyed by old women, most of whom I have encountered are nosy, catty, and intrusive, but my heart goes out to old men, old men who look so alone in the world with nobody to care for them - I felt sad so I said a prayer for him, "Lord send him a cab", hoping that my father does not end up in that state. A few cabs drove by but they were all occupied, and then he hailed one and it was empty - it worked, I said to myself, the Lord heard me, but the smile that was creeping in my face faded when I saw the cab driver shaking his head probably saying that he wasn't going the way the old man wanted to go. I didn't want to get my hopes up again when I realized that this could be a good material for a poem so I reached for pen and paper to write my first impressions and as I wrote the first senteces, out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the old man getting into a cab.