iluziones

Plans for 2012

2011-12-05T13:32:00.001+08:00

Here's the deal. There are two things that I really, really want to do next year.

The first is to attend the NAB Show with hubby. For those who do not work in the same industry as I do, NAB is an annual event and is one of the - if not, THE - biggest exhibit for media practitioners. As far as I know, it is traditionally held at Las Vegas, Nevada every year. Aside from giving exclusive sneak peeks into the newest, most cutting-edge equipment from suppliers all over the world, they also provide the latest information on new media, IPTV, Video-on-Demand, etc. As their tagline sums it up, it's "Where Content Comes to Life." Visit this page if you want to learn more.

Okay, so that really isn't my purpose. Of course, it would be nice to visit the exhibit but I'm really more interested in the shopping and side trips (SO SUE ME!!!). This will be hubby's third time to visit the exhibit, if ever, and he's been wanting to bring me along for the longest time. First time around, we did not have any budget so that was out of the question. Last year, it was largely my fault because I waited until the last minute before I started thinking of my US Visa. So this year, I am starting early...in fact, I've already registered online as a participant. Which, in my opinion, is pretty good timing, considering I'm back working with a broadcast company.

Shopping/side trips notwithstanding, the main reason I want to go the US is to settle some personal issues. It's not really for sharing, but for the very select who knows where I'm coming from, this trip would really mean a lot to me.

The second thing I want to do by 2012 is to have another baby. Figured it's about time we give our son a sibling. After all, it's really lonely to be an only child, and in all honesty, I can see how much our son is yearning to have someone his own age around the house. I also want to have a baby with the same Eastern astrology sign like I do...I'm thinking a double Dragon in the house will double our luck ;)

Owing to last year's big move, this "project" is actually quite overdue. I know it sounds selfish of me but I've procrastinated because of career-related decisions. I was in the middle of two countries and as far as I perceived it, my job was not as stable as I wanted it to be. I wanted to make sure both hubby and I will be able to provide a comfortable life both for our present family plus the new addition (if ever), so we decided not to seriously pursue Baby #2.

These past few weeks, however, have seen us being less...ahem...careful in the hope that nature just takes its course. We're not getting any younger and time's certainly a-wastin'. Given that we're anticipating the blessing of another bundle of joy in the near future, I am now unsure of how I can travel to the US.

Both goals are equally important to me. So what's the best way to deal with a dilemma? Leave it up to the Divine Writer, of course.

I struck a deal with my Writer (as if I'm really in a position, hahaha!). I told Him, okay, if You feel it's time for me to settle all my personal issues, the stork will not be coming until after I'm done with the US trip. If, however, You want to tell me that the time is not yet ripe, then we will be welcoming a Dragon baby sometime around the 4th quarter of 2012.

The next few months will be a wait-and-see approach. In the meantime, I'll just apply for the US Visa in case He wants me to go exercise my retail privileges ;)

A major change and all those blessings in between

2011-10-27T13:50:00.000+08:00

I can't believe it's almost the end of the year! It seems only last week when I was driven up the wall, packing all my stuff to go home to good old Manila, saying hasty goodbyes to everyone in Lah-Lah Land, and excitedly anticipating my first Christmas back home...and when I checked the calendar, it's been almost a year since then. 11 months, 3 weeks and 4 days ago, to be precise.

And so life goes on.

I am currently in the middle of yet another major change. Now that I think of it, some of the biggest changes in my life came around October/November. It was around that time 11 years ago that my ex-boyfriend and I decided to become a couple (and now I'm married to the guy!). This time last year saw me moving homes between two countries. And now I am in the midst of moving on to another job.

Well, not exactly moving on. Sort of a homecoming, I should say. I finally accepted an offer from the TV station I used to work with to rejoin them. Not as a talent anymore (not that I would mind), but as a regular employee that would allow me to work within the sphere I had been so used to for more than 10 years, yet be able to keep more reasonable hours (or so I hope). Coming home to Manila to go back to what I've loved doing all this time...I have no other way to call it but poetic justice.

But no matter how sweet the offer was, I was in a quandary for some time, thinking of ways of how to break it to my current employer. After all, there was no love lost between us when I decided to move countries. In fact, they have given me the most unheard-of and the most considerate employee arrangement I've ever found myself in: I was given the chance to keep my job abroad while working at home in Manila. I'd like to think I've done something right in all that time I was employed with them, because no ordinary person would deserve that. And no ordinary boss will just shell out that privilege for that matter.

And so now you understand why my resignation letter was just a blank white page for almost a week after signing the offer sheet from New Employer. I felt like a traitor.

But...

...my Divine Writer reminded me that following His plans does not make one a sell-out. One fine morning, I opened my office email and I found just the solution I was waiting for. My boss emailed me saying he needed to cancel my work permit as he had exceeded his quota for foreign workers. Of course, not being based there made me the best candidate because I didn't really need a permit to work/stay there anymore. Note that while he was saying he needed to cancel my work pass, he was still considerate enough to ask me what the implications would be on my end.

After reading the message, I felt it was the cue I was waiting for. If that wasn't Divine Intervention, I don't know what else is. And so I emailed him my resignation letter. (Fine, I know it isn't exactly within the boundaries of etiquette that one emails the boss her resignation letter...but, hey, this is an unconventional set-up and I place myself as an exception)

If you're curious about the contents of my letter, suffice it to say that I decided to come clean. I felt honesty was the way to go. So I told them I was given an offer to go back to my industry of choice, with a very good position, to boot. And that a work-at-home set-up was not as ideal as I thought it would be. Boss graciously accepted the letter and simply told me that "the possibility to pursue one's desire or aspiration is truly immeasurable." Awww :')

So that's Blessing Number 1. Going back to the old without burning any bridges. It feels great.

And as if that wasn't enough, we were given yet another surprise. Hubby got some unexpected recognition from his bosses for all his hard work. Without really going into the details (he hates it that I post so much about our lives online...), the recognition cemented, more than anything, that this is really where we're supposed to be.

And the biggest blessing of all...

(No, I'm not [yet] pregnant. I leave the timing to my Divine Writer.)

Hubby and I took a leap of faith and invested in our family's future. We bought a piece of property that we thought is a good buy. At first, we were having second thoughts because we felt we might not have enough resources to finance that. But, you know what, the Big Guy Up There wasn't quite finished with us. He proved yet again that when you follow His plans, He will provide. And provide the resources He did. And so we found ourselves signing contracts and issuing cheques like there's no tomorrow.

All these changes are a happy-kind-of-scary feeling. All the decisions we took in the past few months and weeks feel so grown-up.

However, we remain child-like in one matter: our faith. We believe we are on the right path, and when we stay positive, we witness that the universe conspires to listen to the quiet whispers of our hearts :)

Sad Day

2011-10-06T21:08:00.001+08:00

iBelieve iSpeak for an entire generation when iSay iMourn the passing of an iCon.

Thank you, Steve Jobs, for putting the future in the palms of our hands. Rest well and Sync in Peace.

Photo from apple.com

5 Years Old Tomorrow

2011-07-20T10:12:00.000+08:00

I was backtracking my posts today and realised tomorrow is my blog's 5th year anniversary. That said, I have to think of something worthwhile to post.

I need inspiration.

Etude House Haul

2011-06-06T12:54:00.001+08:00

Because I heard from a make up junkie friend that the Dr. Oil Solution Anti Shine Dual Primer was worth a try, I decided to visit a nearby Etude House to buy myself one. This is Part 2 of my continuing search for the perfect make up primer.

And because a girl [like me] simply cannot walk into a cosmetic shoppe and get just one thing, here's a teaser of my haul:

All these cost me only PHP2,000 (less than USD50)

Clockwise, from left: Collagen Moistfull Essence-in Foundation (Natural Beige), Dr. Oil Solution Anti-Shine Dual Primer Moisture and Pore Cover, Surprise Essence Concealer, Nail Lacquer and Perfect Brow Kit.

So far, I have tried everything once. Will post reviews when I get to know them better.

Spoiler Brats

2011-05-26T12:35:00.001+08:00

Obviously, this is a rant-related post.

Today is the American Idol Season 10 finale. As expected, there are some who just couldn't resist posting the results.

It's probably my fault that I checked my FB and Twitter accounts right before the winner was declared. Serves me right. Now I know who the winner is even before I've seen the show.

What is it with certain people's desire to announce to the world that they're the first to know? Is it a childish impulse? Is it a deep seated wish to be superior to everyone else? Or is it simply to annoy others? And I'm not just talking about AI results. It could be a boxing match, the Oscars, the FIFA championship match...you know, those things that you'd rather watch from start to finish. Reminds me of that one time many years ago when I said I wanted to watch "The Sixth Sense", and my colleague pointed out that Bruce Willis was a ghost. Thank goodness she hasn't found her way to my friend's list (yet).

I know that some of those who post the spoilers probably just forget the fact that we live in different time zones. That's an honest mistake and it's forgivable. But I'm sure that, on your friend's list, you can readily identify who the spoiler brats are.

I have a few on my list. And my expectations did not fail me. They did post the information on their status messages.

I know that in this day and age, things like that are inescapable. Events are already on the news as they unfold. One of the pitfalls of technology, I guess. I just wish that some individuals would learn to be a bit more sensitive (especially if most of their friends live in the same time zone as theirs!). And if it isn't the most ironic of ironies, they themselves are some of the most sensitive and reactionary people I know...as if the world owes them sensitivity when they themselves are not ready to give it.

The "unfriend" button lurks somewhere and is giving me a knowing look. It's probably a better friend at this point.

Maroon 5 and the Rapture

2011-05-24T14:16:00.001+08:00

I know I said previously that I would do one of three things: sell my tickets, give them away or throw them out. Well, I ate my words and I went ahead to watch Maroon 5, anyway.

First of all, let me tell you that I will NEVER EVER EVER again buy silver tickets if a concert is going to be staged at the SMX Convention Centre. It's just not worth it. The stage was too far away, and being vertically challenged didn't help my case. And there were those POSTS in the middle of the venue. And the SCAFFOLDING. And those BOUNCERS that were just all over the place and would happily stand in front of you. And those gold ticket holders who STOOD on their effing chairs.

I miss Singapore's concert scene. I was always close enough to feel the artists' sweat splash down on me. And tickets are not ridiculously expensive.

As a result of that, I have no decent pictures to show. After trying to video everything on my phone (no DSLRs allowed inside...) and realising just how crappy my view was, I contented myself with just plain audio recording. And, yeah, just watching and letting the music take over me.

They played a few songs from each of their three albums. But, of course, the crowd responded best to their hits from the first album such as "This Love", "She Will Be Loved", "Harder to Breathe" and "Sunday Morning".

If only for the music, it was worth it to go to the concert. I would definitely watch them again, given a chance. But, like I said, forget about silver tickets. And I think the concert organisers could do better next time. Judging by the less-than-stellar attendance (there were a lot of people, but not enough to be a sold-out concert), perhaps poor marketing (the sponsors' booths were really dismal and I felt the mileage was not worth the bang) and over-zealous bouncers (imagine stopping teenage kids from bouncing on the floor - they were having a good time, for crying out loud!), the organisers still have loooots of room for improvement.

That said, I don't regret going to the concert because it's still Maroon 5, after all. And I still think Adam Levine is sexeeehhh.

**********

So watching the concert was my first post-apocalyptic act. And here was hubby and I's last act a few hours before the alleged Rapture:

Just in case we didn't have enough time to grab our wedding bands.

L'Oreal Base Magique - Does It Really Work Like Magic?

2011-05-16T16:39:00.004+08:00

I've been on the look out for a good make up primer for the past few weeks. Blame it on the upcoming wedding season and all those photo ops that come with such occasions. After all, why would I want my oily face tagged on Facebook, right?

Dang you, Mark Zuckerberg. Not only have you redefined social networking, you've also succeeded in being the bane of every girl's wardrobe and make up kit.

Anyway, what got me interested in a primer was the fact that I hate retouching. And with the temperature soaring and me sweating like a pig, my make up is bound to be all gone within 10 minutes of heat. I also tend to sweat up along the eyelids, so you can just imagine how my eyeshadow is going to hold up at 34 degrees Celsius. Since one of the weddings I'm attending is a beach wedding, I decided it's about time a primer found its home in my make up kit.

I visited some cosmetic counters and found primers from MAC and Shisheido but I found them a bit too pricey for a product that I'll be trying for the first time. One jar can easily cost me above USD50, so until the primer firmly establishes itself as a need, I decided to hold off my purchase and looked for a more inexpensive alternative.

And here's what I found:

L'Oreal Base Magique Transforming Smoothing Primer

Here's how they describe the product:

"Transform your bare skin texture: The first smoothing primer that makes your lines and pores invisible for a visible and touchable smoothness.

A unique blend of silicon oils and soft light powders create a sensational smoothing velvet formula to refine the skin.

Smooth wrinkles and fine lines
Perfectly hides pores
Skin imperfections are corrected

The rosy shade brings out the translucency on the bare skin tone."

Here's how the actual product looks like:

Photo from kikay.exchange.ph

The product is light pink in colour, with a smooth and velvety texture. Imagine baby powder mixed with silicon gel and you'll get the picture. At the L'Oreal counter, I tested the product on the skin on my hand and I was captivated by the dreamy smoothness. I also layered some liquid foundation on the patch of skin and discovered it blends quite well. I got myself a 50ml jar. Usual price is at PHP945 (about USD22), but since it was on sale, it was a steal at PHP709 (about USD16)!

One thing I learnt about handling this product is that a little goes a long way. I made the mistake of plunking small dots on my face, when what I should have actually done was loosen a small portion with my fingertips before applying on skin (What...? I was excited. So sue me.). As a result, the primer kind of caked in some areas of my face, so I had to reduce the amount of product before I could apply my foundation.

After I corrected that, I can tell you that my make up glided on smoothly. There was a noticeable difference especially in the eye area, as I felt the eyeshadow blended better and held on longer. My eye colour held up for the rest of the day, and looked as fresh as when I first applied it. Even my concealer and cheek colour stayed on. The T-zone was another story, however. In the future, I think I will use the product sparingly on that area, as there is a tendency to oil up as the day wears on. Nothing that a bit of powder can't fix, though.

I'm not too sure about the product's ability to "perfectly hide pores" and correct skin imperfections. I felt the concealer is still a must to hide some blemishes. Upon closer inspection, there was no noticeable difference in my pore size, but since they're not really big to begin with, I didn't find too much of an issue with that. However, if you have big pores and intend to hide it using this product, you might be a bit disappointed. As for hiding fine lines, well, I don't really think one product has the power to do that; I still think the best way to camouflage it would be to use a combination of moisturiser, primer, concealer and foundation...without overdoing it, of course.

Overall, I am quite satisfied with the product. Do note, though, that my purpose in trying out this primer is for my make up to hold longer. Hiding fine lines and blemishes was NOT my main motivation.

Would I buy this product again? I think so. It might actually be my go-to product because it is not that expensive, easy to find and does the job quite well. Would I finally invest in a MAC or Shisheido primer? Perhaps.

Has the primer firmly established itself as a make up essential? A resounding YES! :)

The L'Oreal Base Magique Transforming Smoothing Primer: 3.5 out of 5.

Disclaimer: This product review is based on my personal experience. It is in no way compensated by the company and does not necessarily reflect their own views of the product.

Grey Areas

2011-05-10T16:56:00.000+08:00

Last week, I introduced my son to the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

He's noticed my DVD box set sitting in one of our shelves and had curiously inspected the cover. Many times over the past couple of weeks, he asked if he could watch it. At first, I refused because I thought the scenes and some characters might frighten him (i.e., Ring Wraiths and Orcs), and I thought the plot is a little too complex for him to understand.

Of course, how can a mother possibly win against a very persistent five-year-old? And so we went ahead and watched, with many caveats from me, telling him not to blame me if he gets scared.

My son surprised me yet again. He absolutely LOVED the trilogy! Actually, it seems he enjoyed it more than he did the Harry Potter series (of which he suffered only through half of the first movie, and hasn't since asked to watch it again). He did get a bit nervous seeing some of the scary characters - evidenced by very sweaty hands and feet, hahaha - but he got over it easier than I expected him to. Of course, I was right in predicting that the story was a bit hard for him to understand, but, hey, we're talking about a five-year-old, remember? And to his credit, he did comprehend most parts of the movie, and is able to summarise portions of it when I reviewed him. It goes without saying that his understanding came after hitting Mommy with questions at the rate of one bazillion questions per minute.

Amongst his many questions was about the colour of the characters. I saw it as an opportunity to educate him about symbolism in movies and literature in general.

SON: Mommy, how come the Ring Wraiths are black?
MOMMY: Because they're evil, and in films and books, black is used to symbolise very bad things.
SON: (faraway look, meaning he's digesting the piece of information)
MOMMY: See, even the Orcs and Uruk-hai warriors are black. Because they're evil. And Gandalf, who's good, is white. LOTR shows us a lot of battles between good and evil, so it's like black versus white.
SON: (blinks) So black is bad and white is good...?
MOMMY: (self-assured smile) Yes, that's right!
SON: (frowns) Then how come Saruman is white?

Gandalf and Saruman (from theonering.net)

Ahh, to have a precocious child...!

The other man

2011-05-05T14:33:00.007+08:00

You were born on this day many summers ago.

Since the beginning, ours was a complicated relationship. Although we both know that our connection was never simple. But I loved you. Yes, in my own special way, I loved you.

I still do.

Yours is the kind of love my husband can never give me.

I've longed for your loving embrace for as long as I can remember. Without meaning to sound ungrateful for all the blessings I have, I look at others exchanging loving looks and feel a tinge of regret for that which we never had. For what we allowed to slip through our hands.

I know I've always said I want to live life without regrets. But sometimes I still think of all those missed chances. All those what-ifs.

What if I had more time with you?
What if you spent more time with me?
What if I knew you better?
What if you knew me better?
What if I fought harder for you?
What if you fought harder for me?

I'll never know.

All those firsts and lasts we've missed out on, we'll never have them back.

My first steps.
My first words.
My first day in school.
My first date.
My first heartbreak.
My first-born.

Your last day at work.
Your last vacation.
Your last cup of coffee.
Your last farm harvest.
Your last words.
Your last breath.

But in spite of all those things, I still thank you.

I thank you for teaching me acceptance. How all things that come to pass happen for a reason.

I thank you for teaching me strength. How the loudest voices can be found in the silence of one's heart.

I thank you for teaching me faith. How you can always find something to believe in even when all else fails.

I thank you for teaching me the meaning of unconditional love. How it is measured not by how much it receives, but how much it gives.

Papa, so many things were left unsaid between us. And while I may never know what's on your mind, you can now see inside my heart.

But if there's any "firsts" that I will never forget, it's that you taught me the very first song I know:

I wanna give
I wanna give my love to you completely
I beg of you
I beg of you to listen to my heart.

I've never prayed like this before
But I'm asking you not to close the door
For I can tame the wind and smooth the waters
If you just let me.

I wanna give
I wanna give you all the strength within me
To make a world
To make a world that cannot fall apart.

And you can sit upon a throne
And I'll give it all just for you alone
For I can tame the wind and smooth the waters
If you just let me.

The first song I've ever learnt is perhaps the last solid earthly link I have to you. And it will be the only song that will be in my heart for eternity.

I love you, Papa. Happy birthday.

The anniversary gift

2011-04-30T19:52:00.002+08:00

"The course of true love never did run smooth."

~A Midsummer Night's Dream

In my previous entry, we were a few days away from our 6th anniversary and I did not have a gift for my husband yet. Like I mentioned, he had just been away on a business trip and was able to squeeze in some time for shopping, and so at the moment, he had everything he wanted and needed.

So I surprised him with these:

Okay, so it wasn't really a surprise. He already knew I bought these in advance. We're both fans, and their first album was our constant companion during our long drives home, back when we were still working for a television network. It's also the same CD that put our then-infant son to sleep the moment he sits in the car. Initially, I wanted to get the gold tickets, but after discussing with a good friend, I realised it would be more practical to settle with the silver ones. So I went ahead to purchase a couple of them. Sure, the concert will be almost a month after our anniversary, but the timing shouldn't really matter when you're in the company of your other half.

Apparently, this concert is not meant for us.

About a week after I made the purchase, hubby broke the news that he needs to go overseas for an important training. It's not something he can miss nor pass on to somebody else. And it will be on May 24. I was a bit crestfallen, but he said he can still figure out a way to watch the concert, then take the first flight out. Sounded like a good plan.

But the airlines weren't on our side. The earliest flights available were all fully booked, and the next available ones are already too late for him to make it to the training.

Eff it. Eff it. EFF IT!

To his credit, my husband generally tried to be inconspicuous for the remainder of yesterday (he broke the news to me late afternoon). I guess it wasn't hard to stay out of the way of a scowling wife. And even when I was snapping at him at the rate of about once every millisecond, he never lost his patience and remained calm, giving me small, apologetic smiles. I think that one infuriated me even more. And so while the rest of the world oohed and aahed over Kate Middleton's gown, I was simmering in my own temper and busily pondering my botched concert plans (although I did spare some time to gawk at the lovely, lovely hats).

Seeing how upset I was, hubby told me that I can just go ahead and watch it. He knew how badly I wanted to see it. But, for the life of me, how can I go on and enjoy it when my heart was set on having him as my concert date? And, for crying out loud, it was my anniversary gift to him! So I told him I lost all my desire to watch the concert, and that I was selling the tickets. If nobody wants to buy it, I guess I'll just throw them away or give it away, whichever comes first. The bottomline was, I felt pissed to the high heavens, and could he just give me a few days to calm down because I wasn't really feeling him at the moment.

Today, he was still wearing a contrite look as he left to attend some meetings. While I'm not expecting him to say sorry because it wasn't really his fault, I don't think I am going to apologise for being so pissed off, because I feel I have every right to be: I can't go to the concert date I had planned for us, and I am expected to just accept it because it's all about work. It brought back memories of when he was not around on my birthday two years ago, a first in our 10 years of being together. And, yes, work-related travel was again the culprit.

Sometimes, it's hard to be an understanding wife.Especially when you have a husband with this kind of a job. I know it's a small price to pay for the benefits we receive, in terms of financial rewards and career growth for my husband. But I guess this is part of the work that goes in a marriage. It can't be rosy all the time.

Now that I have some time alone, I realise I was probably too hard on him, considering he might be dealing with his guilt, too. So tonight, when he comes home, I'll probably be less likely to bite his face off and make up for the crabbiness by cooking him dinner. I don't think I'll be 100% back to my normal self yet (especially since I keep seeing all those concert plugs on TV), but knowing me, it won't take me more than three days to forget about this brouhaha.

How glad I am I have this book to keep me company:

They don't call it chicken soup for nothing. It's like balm on my frazzled wifely nerves. If you're married or in a relationship (whether you're a man or a woman), I suggest you get a copy of this book. It has the ability to remind you how trivial some of our concerns are. The book chose to give me a bitch slap with a quote from Malcolm Forbes: "Presence is more than just being there."

I'll be in a better mood tomorrow. I promise.

P.S. If you know anyone interested in my concert tickets, do let me know. Thanks in advance.

On sacrifices, celebrations and tributes

2011-04-21T10:10:00.005+08:00

I've given up social networking. At least, for the time being. This is part of a Lenten "tradition" I started since I was maybe around 12 years old. I give up something I really like as a form of sacrifice. Back then, it's as simple as eschewing chips or chocolates or watching TV.

So, yeah, this year, it's all about giving up Facebook and Twitter. Which delighted my husband, because he's convinced I'm addicted to them. (Perhaps. But I'm bored, what can I do...???)

**********

We're celebrating two very special occasions towards the end of the month. First, it will be my son's 5th birthday on the 24th (Easter Sunday!). We won't be having a big party, but we will nevertheless celebrate the special day. I already placed an order for a Tom and Jerry cake (currently his favourite cartoon), which I'll be picking up on Sunday morning. I was actually fearing the worst when I dropped by the cake shoppe yesterday, forgetting that most establishments are closed on Thursday and Friday (meaning there would be less days for them to work on my order). Thank goodness the lady at the counter was very nice and gave in to my pleadings :)

After my baby blows his birthday candles, we'll probably be off to Fun Ranch or wherever his little heart desires. The day is all about him so, while we have no concrete plans yet, our little master-of-the-day will be the one navigating our journey. Good times.

Come the 28th, it's time for us to celebrate our 6th wedding anniversary. Every year, hubby and I feel that the wedding date is sort of anticlimactic, as what we really celebrate is our boyfriend-girlfriend anniversary, which is already going on its 11th year. Still, we do make it a point to spend quality time by ourselves, because whether or not it's the "real" anniversary, it is the day we made our formal commitment, right?

But...but...but...! I have no gift for the hubby yet...! And I am on panic mode!

I did purchase Maroon 5 tickets for the two of us, but the concert is still on May 23, which is almost one month post-anniversary. And I don't really know what else to get him, because on his recent trip to Vegas, he shopped till he dropped and so he's got everything he needs (and wants).

I have a few days to come up with a really bright idea. Sigh.

**********

Speaking of Vegas, hubby brought home the cutest M&M's I've ever seen.


Pastel-coloured peanut M&M's (photo taken from malamutechaos' flickr photostream)


Plain M & M's (photo from mtnman.com)

They're so cute I don't want to eat them. I just like looking at the yummy (and oh-so-girly) colours. And since this was probably the only kiddie shoppe hubby could find at Vegas, he brought home USD50 worth of candies for our son!

Either that, or he really just had a grand time getting the candies...and who wouldn't?!?! (photo from flickr)

**********

On a more serious note, I realise it's been almost a year since my big discovery. I won't go into the details since it's not really something I feel like sharing with the general blogging community. Suffice it to say, it was an earth-shattering experience for me...and almost a year later, I'm fine. I really am.

Truthfully, I feel a bit scared of myself. At times I think I'm becoming too desensitised. Yes, I know it's a defense mechanism, but still...sometimes it bothers me that I can't be bothered anymore, know what I mean?

To celebrate this "milestone" of sorts, I got inked again:

I got the butterfly last year, a tribute of sorts to my father, and as a symbol for my "metamorphosis". This year, I added the branch on my shoulder, which shows sakura flowers falling, which represents leaving my past and moving on. My mantra, alis volat propriis, is inked beside the butterfly. It is a Latin phrase (a language I love, by the way) which means "she flies with her own wings".

That branch on my shoulder? Fucking hurts. The fact that the most painful part of the inking process was the visual symbolising the past is, I think, poetic justice.

Perhaps I'm not desensitised, after all.

Cleaning up and keeping it clean

2011-03-02T18:40:00.002+08:00

Has it been that long since I've last visited my blog? I can't believe my last entry was December last year. And it's now March!

So apologies to you, my dear neglected blog. I promise to be more faithful. (Or at least, I'll try...!)

Anyway, a lot has happened in between the last blog entry and this one. For one thing, the family is back at home. As in THE homeland. To make the long story short, hubby was asked to service some local clients, and so we all went back en masse and said goodbye to Lah Lah Land, if you catch my drift.


How come I wasn't this happy when I was packing?!

It was a stressful few weeks leading up to the big move. It was a happy thought that we were going back home, but then again, it's another cross-country move...and after I took a good look at all the odds and ends we've accumulated in the past couple of years staying abroad, well, suffice it to say that I got tired just trying to organise everything in my head. And it was even more stressful to try to fit in the last few years' worth of your life in about seven super-sized freight boxes. No wonder expats tend to give away really good stuff before they move back home. I totally dig that now.

So the next phase after packing everything is...unpacking. That was even more dreadful. After cramming as much stuff as we could into the boxes - about 60% of which is comprised of my sons TOYS (dear Lord, does he really have that much???) - I had to personally sift through them and put them back in our old house. Which, by the way, holds most of the stuff we left behind last 2008. Two household's worth of stuff to cram back into one home. And as if to add insult to injury, we decided that now would be a good time to renovate the house, after portions of it fell into [slight] disrepair.

Holy effing cow. I'm getting tired again just recalling the details.

I ended up packing most of our old stuff into large boxes. That included usable clothes, toys, magazines, DVDs/VCDs, books, etcetera, ad infinitum. Some I gave away to our carpenters (especially the baby stuff like cribs - one of them had a toddler who could still use it). Some of them I gave away to my nanny (so sometimes I have to do a double take when she comes in because she dresses like me at times, hahaha). The rest, I plan to donate to charity, because majority of them are really in good condition. I just don't have the ~~patience~~ space to keep them now. So if anyone wants to organise a garage sale or is planning to donate to some charity, do let me know. I am very interested.

Today, I see the term "spring cleaning" in a whole new light. Because after this very stressing move, I cannot STRESS enough how important it is to look through your things at least twice a year.

So now, I have a new resolution. I vow to go through the family's stuff every so often and dispose of the things that just collect dust. You really have no idea how much usable space you have until you take out the stuff that's just sitting there. (You know what I'm talking about...you know that bag that's staring at you from the back of your wardrobe, waiting for the next time you feel like using it? Yeah, that's the one.)

When was the last time you've peeked in your wardrobe? I beg you, please, declutter. It's for your own sanity.

*Photos courtesy of Getty Images.

Snips and snails and puppy dogs tails

2010-12-07T09:52:00.001+08:00

I was watching The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy with my son last night. The episode was about a nose thief who stole Billy's nose.

courtesy of www.tvguide.com

The climax showed the antagonist blowing up the nose to gigantic proportions, then using it like a hot-air balloon to escape from Billy and company...whilst holding on to the nose hairs. Grim, Billy and Mandy followed suit with their own inflated nose. When they were up in the sky, the antagonist's giant nose hit the three with a snot bomb, covering their faces. Billy simply licked off the snot so he can regain his vision.

I commented, "Ooh, that's disgusting!" My son turned to me and gave me a wickedly charming smile, and the following repartee ensued:

Son: But Mommy, I do that, too!
Mommy: (horrified look) You lick your snot off?!
Son: (grins) Yes!
Mommy: (testing to see if he's telling the truth) Really...? How does it taste like?
Son: It's salty! (belly laugh follows)

Little boys are gross. But charming. Very, very charming.

How Painfully Observant

2010-10-22T12:17:00.000+08:00

The other night, our little family was having the usual pre-bedtime conversation. I don't know how we started the topic, but somehow, we wound up discussing money.

I told my son he should stop buying so much toys. To which, he gave me an impish little grin and said (pointing at me with his index finger), "You! Stop buying so much bags!"

And he turned to my husband and said (complete with the grin and finger-pointing), "You! Stop buying so much gadgets!"

Touche, my son. Touche.

The Road to Giving Up

2010-09-29T14:21:00.002+08:00

Smoking, that is. Sigh. I know it's a disgusting habit, but what can I do...? Habits are habits, and most of the time, they're bad and hard to break.

I actually succeeded quitting a few years back. This was January 2005, a few days after my bestie's wedding. Like the story of probably 70% of the other quitters in the world, I decided to kick the habit after I fell sick. I had a horrible episode of laryngitis...my throat felt like it was being sliced open when I swallow even just my spit. That, plus a most un-ladylike cough triggered by my allergic rhinitis, was motivation enough to keep from lighting up. And as hubby and I were planning for a wee one that year, both of us decided we should keep our paraphernalia under lock and key.

We should've hurled that key into the ocean. Two years later, a few months before my son blew his first birthday candle, I found myself in the corporate jungle. As some of you may know, this cat has prowled the creative side of the fence for more than a decade, and so finding myself crossing over to the other side was a bit of a nasty shock. The pressure was different. I felt a bit lost. I had a very exacting boss whom I wanted to poison (Good thing I didn't. He later became one of my most admired people, and a good friend, at that!). I had nothing to look at but my workstation and the four white walls surrounding it (no windows, WTH?!).

And so, mid-2007, I found solace from an old ~~friend~~ habit. I dug up my dusty lighter, flicked it to life, and took the most delicious drag from my first cigarette in two years. The worst thing about this is, since hubby and I share a brand, he found himself drifting towards my pack of reds and lighting up, as well. "Just one time," he said. Ahhh, I said that, too. Until now, I don't know anyone who was able to keep that promise of "just one time".

Fast forward to today, late 2010. I've tried quitting a couple of times but ended up raising the white flag ("just ONE time...") and inhaling the toxic fumes like a thirsty desert straggler would take his first gulp of ice-cold water. I realize it's toxic and that alone should keep me away. But even just writing about it is making me lust after a stick. Seriously addicted, I know.

So what's making me try quitting again?

Several reasons. For one, I read about a former classmate's struggle with lung cancer. She's my age, an excellent swimmer, a mother of one and - irony of ironies - a non-smoker. That last detail gave me a monster-sized guilt trip. Here I am, pumping stick after stick of carbon monoxide, nicotine, tar, and God knows what else into my (hopefully still) healthy lungs, and there she is, fighting a losing battle to breathe. She lives her life one day at a time, not knowing whether her respiratory functions will be okay each time she wakes up. I truly, deeply feel for her. I don't feel sorry for her because that's the last thing she needs, but I understand what it must feel when you know you'll leave your loved ones sooner than later. But I digress.

Secondly, I've really been wanting to kick the habit, evidenced by the many attempts this year. Like I said, it's just difficult when someone in your household is a smoker, and smokes the same brand as you do.

Lastly, a recent conversation with my boy led me to this. We went out to buy some ice-cream, and along with that, I purchased my usual pack of Mediums. As we were walking home and he was happily licking his popsicle, I took a drag and he asked innocently, "Mommy, why do you have to smoke?" I looked and him and said, "Well, it's a habit a have." So he asked me what a habit was, and as I explained it to him, he asked whether it was a good habit or a bad one.When I told him it's a bad habit, he asked, "So why are you still doing it?"

For the life of me, I couldn't come up with a decent answer. There really is no good reason for it. So I replied with a question, "Would you think about doing this when you grow up?" And, horrifyingly, he said, "Yeah, maybe I would. Just ONE time."

So that settled it. The last thing I want to be for my son is to be a poster child of bad habits. And, although I expected him to later on have this same habit (because he sees it from Mommy and Daddy), I have to be completely honest and say I'd rather he doesn't start. And I told him that. I told him, I'd rather you don't start because it's hard to stop.

So wish me luck this time. I hope I bury this habit soon.

P.S. It's been 24 hours since I last lit up. I'm feeling withdrawal signs, and I expect it to get worse. But I did this once before so I sincerely hope I can do it again!

Getting old, huh...? Indeed...

2010-08-16T18:32:00.001+08:00

I stumbled upon a celeblog (celebrity blog) today and read an entry from one of the site owner's guest bloggers. The guest blogger is a starlet in Manila and her entry dealt with "getting old".

Here were her "tell-tale signs" of ageing (and I quote, verbatim):

When you choose beer over soft drinks.
When you can't eat pork fat as much (because you know your blood pressure will rise).
When start calling you Ms. Mr. Ma'am Sir and it gets TOO ANNOYING!
When you start to attend too many weddings and funerals.
When you choose to stay home than to go clubbing.
When you already do things that can put you behind bars.
When it's already an effort to look good.
When you're eating chocolates not because you love them, but because it makes you feel better after a bad break up.
When you have to think of bills rather than boys/girls.
When your mind makes contracts your body can't meet.
When you don't care when you're wearing white socks with black shoes (AND I REALLY DON'T).
When when sleeping on the couch makes your back hurt.
When when there's nothing left to learn the hard way.
When you're told to act your age (YES MOM).
When you stop being excited about your birthday cake because chances are the candles will reveal your age.
When you choose to let your ass warm up on your chair rather than bringing it to the gym.

My comments, point by point:

Young lady, if indeed you choose beer over softdrinks, then you are no doubt young. At my age, I have lost the quivering desire for alcohol. Unless it's over good conversation with some really good friends. Drinking for the sake of inebriation shows the characteristic irresponsibility that accompanies youth.
I have to agree that hypertension is a classic sign of ageing. Although people my age and older will take one look at the lechon (whole roasted pig) skin and say, "Gamutin nyo na lang ako pagkakain!" (Just give me my medication after I eat this!)
Ms./Mr./Ma'am/Sir stops getting annoying after a certain age. At some point, you recognise that it's a sign of respect (however grudging it may be sometimes). What offends me is being called lola (grandma), no matter how good-naturedly.
It's not attending a wedding or funeral per se that indicates your age. If you go to a wedding, you're no longer a guest or secondary sponsor, but a PRINCIPAL sponsor. Plus you are seated on the same table as the oldies. For funerals, I guess it's more of attending funerals of your contemporaries (think Dolphy).
The choice to stay home or go clubbing is not related to age. I was young once and I never enjoyed the social scene. Reading a book in a quiet corner of the house always won. I think that one is a function of her occupation and must not be taken as a generalisation.
Really, now...? Try saying that line in Singapore. Besides, irresponsible behaviour equals youth and immaturity. Ever heard of Lindsay Lohan?
It IS an effort to look good. It's just that some people were blessed with good genes and make it look effortless. Although, with Facebook now, I think everyone makes a conscious effort to look good (and to not wear the same thing on different photo albums, hahaha).
Binge eating after a break-up is not a sign of age. It shows the lack of capacity to deal with the problem, no matter how young or old you are.
Well, I have to give her this one.
And this, too.
Well, I damn well care! And, hello, Samantha Jones does, too. Actually, IMHO, age gives you the licence to carry fabulosity with aplomb.
Well, okay, that and fatigue.
Nothing left to learn the hard way? Then you are not ageing. You cease to live. Even my mom has important and painful life lessons at her age.
If you're being told to act your age, you're just being loud and irritating. Not old. If you're old, nobody has to tell you how to act.
I have no issues with candles. And I love birthday cakes. Besides, most people are discreet nowadays and omit candles.
I've been that way forever. At my age, I've never been inside a gym for personal training. I only went inside for shoots.

Conclusion: you, Young Lady, are worrying too much. If anything. your post reveals how "un-old" you are and how little you know about the world. I don't know that much, either, but I certainly know a little more than you do.

Now go act your age and stay in your room! Kidding.

So Much for My List...!

2010-08-13T15:11:00.002+08:00

I've been a bad girl this year. I just revisited my list of resolutions at the start of the year, and as far as I could see, I haven't made much headway. Here's my mid-year assessment:

...find more opportunities to communicate with Him. (ermmmm...this could still be improved, admittedly. Reading about Anne Rice' recent interview got me thinking. I'll blog about that separately.)

...be less critical of myself and others. (this one might need more time. I am still as critical of myself and others as I could be. Though perhaps a little less vocal.)

...be more patient and less short-tempered. I know I sometimes hurt my husband and son when I have those occasional - okay, not-so-occasional - outbursts, and I am endlessly sorry for that. (needs improvement, still)

...be wiser with my spending. I know I should take my savings more seriously this time around. (aaaccckkk...don't even mention this one! My wardrobe bears all the evidence of my guilty conscience.)

...drink more water and take less soda. (well, there we go. One resolution being kept!)

...spend less time on the internet (Facebook seriously hogs time!). Less time on the computer means more time for my loved ones.(Considerably lessened, yes.)

...be less whingey when hubby goes on his business trips.(this, too!)

...be more productive, both at home and at work. (hmmm...I guess. But needs improvement.)

...be more organised. (oh dear...)

...blog even more. (10 piddling blogs for the year! *kicks self*)

But I take heart knowing that there's still a couple of months to go before 2010 ends. And that I didn't reach the 100-day mark before I posted another blog entry. Sigh.

New Realities

2010-05-06T11:59:00.001+08:00

Our childhood superheroes and idols are all flawed. Next time you read up on mythology, Shakespearean classics or Marvel comics, pay close attention.
We all get second chances in life. It just doesn't always turn out the way we expect them to be.
We need to be very, very specific with our prayers.
Sometimes we look for love in the wrong places.
At times, it is easier to deal with pain and rejection than love and acceptance.
History can be rewritten in one day.
Silence is a good breeding ground for voices in your head.
We sometimes mistake courage for self-preservation and masked fear. It is revealed at the threshold of a revelation and how one deals with it.
Being smart has its downsides.
Knowledge and acceptance are at opposite ends of the spectrum. But one has to find the right reflection in order to see the rainbow.

"Be careful what you wish for, 'coz you just might get it all. And then some you don't want." ~ Chris Daughtry

Steven Tyler is my Rock God

2010-05-04T13:08:00.000+08:00

Well, at least one of them. I might be Liv Tyler in a parallel universe.

I kept the right ones out
And let the wrong ones in
Had an angel of mercy to see me through all my sins
There were times in my life
When I was goin' insane
Tryin' to walk through
The pain.

When I lost my grip
And I hit the floor
Yeah, I thought I could leave but couldn't get out the door
I was so sick and tired
Of livin' a lie
I was wishin that I
Would die

It's amazing
With the blink of an eye
You finally see the light
It's amazing
When the moment arrives
That you know you'll be alright
It's amazing
And I'm sayin' a prayer
For the desperate hearts tonight.

That one last shot's a permanent vacation
And how high can you fly with broken wings?
Life's a journey, not a destination
And I just can't tell just what tomorrow brings.

You have to learn to crawl
Before you learn to walk
But I just couldn't listen to all that righteous talk
I was out on the street
Just tryin' to survive
Scratchin' to stay alive

No, it ain't my love song. But this girl is a Rock Star. My life is amazing...and only those who truly know me will understand.

Time will reveal

2010-05-03T13:47:00.000+08:00

And so my Divine Writer seems to be in one of His humorous moods. He might have decided my life is too boring, thus some unexpected surprises.

I am quite hard to surprise. So when I use that word, then it's something really big.

But time is on my side.

Of metronomes and anthems

2010-03-15T12:56:00.003+08:00

It is another moment of triumph for Filipinos everywhere as Manny Pacquiao scored another victory in the ring, this time over Ghana's Joshua Clottey. True, yesterday's 12-rounder was a bit ho-hum, considering Clottey did nothing but hold his arms over his face for the majority of the fight - plus the fact that what we really want is Mayweather['s face] on the canvas - but, still, a victory is a victory. So congratulations are in order for Team Pacquiao (especially Freddie Roach).

That being said, it irks me no end that some people find it in them to ruin a perfectly glorious moment.

One of the headlines on Yahoo! News today caught my attention: "Arnel Pineda's version of RP anthem criticized". For those of you Filipinos who [live under a rock and] didn't get to watch the fight, Pineda was given the honor to sing the Philippine National Anthem.

Apparently, the National Historical Institute deemed the Journey frontman's version "wrong", ergo, they find it essential to file a complaint to the Department of Justice.

And what, exactly, was their issue with Pineda's version? According to the article, "under Section 37 of RA 8491 or the Flag and Heraldic Code, the national anthem must be sung in accordance with the original musical arrangement of composer Julian Felipe, who gave it a marching tempo. Violators may be fined Php5,000 to Php20,000 or jailed for a year." Furthermore, Lupang Hinirang must be "properly sung with a two-fourths beat and 100 metronomes," which should make it last for 53 seconds, instead of the 89-second version that Pineda delivered.

Let's be clear on one thing: I'm not exactly a Pineda fan (though I must admit he's got the vocal chops). Neither am I pro-NHI; I am sure the agency is just doing its job. But, my goodness, how ANAL can they get? If they're that obsessive, maybe they should consider putting together an Association for National Anthem Literacy or something...

Until this day, I've never heard of an effing metronome, much less know what to do with it. I heard Pineda's version, and while, admittedly, it might have been slower than the prescribed marching beat, my amateur ears detected nothing criminally wrong with his rendition. To me, his interpretation was heartfelt, and more than enough to remind me how proud I am to be a Filipino by birthright.

A string of other talented Filipino singers received the same frown from NHI: Charice Pempengco, La Diva, Sarah Geronimo, Lani Misalucha and Kyla got less-than-stellar reviews from the board. I only agreed with the NHI on two counts: Martin Nievera and Christian Bautista, both of whom delivered harrowing renditions; but still, I don't see how that's enough to earn them DOJ's attention. The only injustice here would be to take the DOJ's attention away from more important cases and concentrate on metronomes.

Look, when we were in primary school and were first taught the National Anthem, what were the things they told us? Were we instructed to keep it at two-fourths beat and 100 metronomes (egad, I hate that word!)? Did our teachers ever whip out a stopwatch and give detention to anyone who sang it at 00:53:04 seconds or beyond? Hell, no (well, at least not in my school...)!

The only thing I remember being required to do was to sing Lupang Hinirang with nothing less than respect and reverence, with your right hand placed over your left chest, and with your eyes looking straight at the flag. Respect, not metronome, was the order of the day.

In fairness to him, I felt Pineda's sincerity and respect in singing the National Anthem. He's made a name for himself so he probably doesn't need the 89 seconds of fame this stint bought for him (or cost him, depending on your perspective). But, more than anything else, he certainly does not deserve the flak he's getting from NHI just because he sang it a few beats too slowly. That goes for all the other singers, as well (barring Nievera and Bautista).

Rather than stirring up the dust after each and every rendition of Lupang Hinirang, here's an idea for the NHI: maybe they should just put together a group of official National Anthem singers, train them in the prescribed metronomically-correct beat, and send out an official circular/pass a Congressional bill/whatever that one can only source out singers from that official group, so that future versions are guaranteed 100% correct. That would certainly be more constructive, don't you think?

I hope Pacquaio retires immediately. With a looming fine and possible jail term, I don't think any singer in his right mind should carry the responsibility of singing our National Anthem. Any volunteers from NHI?

Sold!

2010-02-26T16:17:00.005+08:00

I just won my first-ever bid on eBay today! Not that there was any stiff competition (I believe I was the only one who bid for the product!), but nevertheless, it still felt rewarding.

My purchase is a copy of Artemis Fowl: The Arctic Incident, in the old cover design that I wanted. The price difference from the online purchase versus the usual retail price wasn't all that astronomical (UP: about $14.50; eBay price: $10). So why not just go to the nearest mall and get a brand-new copy?

I have this thing about collecting books in old(er) covers, particularly if they come in a series. I guess it's a habit I got from an old colleague of mine, who would pore over the shelves on second-hand book shoppes for old cover designs. I thought that was a really cool idea, and so a few weeks after I discovered that hobby of his, I was already competing with him on the shelves (one time, he made a mistake of putting down a copy of Stephen King's The Shining because he couldn't make up his mind. He regretted it after I snapped it up in less than 10 seconds.).

Going back to the AF series, I wanted it because of the cover, as I had purchased books 1 and 3 in the same design, and what is available in the bookstores are those in the crappy new cover (t would ruin my collection's look). Book 1 was bought from an out-of-the-way children's book shoppe, which I thought I could drag my lazy arse to any old time I wanted the next installments. But, yeah, I've got a lazy arse, so Book 1 was long finished and I still had no Book 2.

Then, a few weeks ago, there was a big book sale at the city area. My friend told me to go because she had seen a lot of AFs and Paulo Coelhos. But because I was in another place at the time, I opted to go the following day. By the time I arrived, all the AFs were gone, save for a worn-out-ish copy of Book 3, in the cover I wanted. So I bought that, along with a host of other titles.

And now, at last, I have found Book 2! Didn't I say it was rewarding? And it comes with free personal delivery :)

The gift of today

2010-02-23T10:47:00.000+08:00

Today, I read an inspiring quote from a bookmarked blog. The site owner apparently did not know who the author was, so I did some Googling and found out it was from an American writer named Mary Jean Irion:

"Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are.
Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart.
Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow.
Let me hold you while I may, for it might not always be so.
One day, I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow,
Or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky,
And want, more than all the world, your return."

Much ado about nothing

2010-02-23T10:07:00.003+08:00

Please humour me and let me have a good laugh. I've just been called a chick by a 24-year-old boy! I must say, I was thoroughly amused (and, okay, maybe a bit flattered. When you're a thirtysomething married woman, you don't get this kind of attention as often as you used to.).

My brother-in-law casually told me the other day that one of his friends popped in his Facebook chat window. He said he was browsing through little bro's FB friends, and he saw this chick. "Is he your sister," he asked. Little bro told him, "Uhhh...yeah...? Why?" "'Coz she's a chick. Can I add her?" To which he replied, "He's my big brother's wife! Choose another chick from my friends' list."

So the friend went through little bro's contacts (I think he has about 500+ on his list). The verdict? "She's the only chick I could find!"

Hahahahaha!!!!!

Seems that there's much to-do about my profile pic. But, seriously, what's wrong with it? Okay, I know there's probably a bit of cleavage showing there, but I've seen worse in other photos. Besides, even my husband noted that the shirt I was wearing wasn't really out-of-the-ordinary. It's just a nice top I could wear to the mall or to visit relatives.

So it strikes me as a bit peculiar that I've been getting a lot of friend requests from guys I don't even know. And a smattering of messages from male acquaintances/former colleagues. Heck, even a good guy friend from university scolded me for the "revealing" photo (he said he was uncomfortable with the picture, and that he could see my, ahem, chest area even from the small chat window. (And this is a guy who is exposed to half-naked (and naked) women on a constant basis.).

And what did my husband have to say about all the male attention? "Yeah, you could change your profile picture, you know. Let's take a sexier photo of you."

A Father's Love

2010-02-22T15:39:00.000+08:00

I was bloghopping today when I came across this site.

It's amazing how the blog owner is able to come up with the content for the site. All entries contain original scanned correspondences, from obscure Joes to the more familiar names such as Harvey Milk and J.D. Salinger, and references to the likes of President Roosevelt and Nikola Tesla.

What caught my attention was a wonderful and touching letter from an unknown soldier. I am posting the full transcription below, but if you wish to see the original handwritten letter, then please follow this link.

Wednesday
Oct 21, 1942

My Dear Little Girl,

Last night was a beautiful moonlit night. Every star that studded the sky was sparkling like a jewel. The air was crisp, but faintly perfumed, with all the fragrances only a lovely spring night can devise. Today it is raining hard, the wind is fierce and cold. Yes! It is miserable, something you want to pass by quickly, so that the night will again be beautiful.

Life too, Anne, is like the weather. Some days are so lovely, the happenings of those days so enchanting, you never can forget them. Some are so unhappy, you wish they never happened but, alas, they must for your life, your Mother’s, mine, everyone’s is so mixed up with joy and sadness that you never have one or the other for long. One replaces the other with a speed that is amazing.

Thus it happened just two years ago. Your Mother knew and I knew that you were going to be born. Those days were anxious ones, Anne. As the days went by your Mother used to smile at me with those lovely brown eyes. Eyes that shone with courage and resolve. If she had anxiety in her mind she never showed it but it must have been there. In my heart and mind torments raged that no one will ever know. But through all the doubts all the worries and all the long, anxious hours an end came, bringing with it, you.

From that hour, it was early in the morning, the lives of two people were filled with inexplicable happiness. When I called to see your Mother that day I shall never forget the beauty, the happiness that shone up at me from her precious little face. Neither will I forget the pride and the joy that surged right through me when the nurse brought you along and I held you in my arms.

Soon we took you home. The months sped by, and you gradually took a hold in our hearts. You laughed so much at such silly things we did to claim your attention. We showed you off to so many people. Your eyes, so big and questioning never failed to win admiration. Your curly hair was indeed a special joy.

And as each month sped by you grew. First you sat up, then stood up, then crawled, then walked. As each stage passed funny little incidents occurred. Perhaps no one ever noticed them or remembered them. But your Mother and I did. Every night, when I came home from work, there were stories of your conduct through the day to be told. Some days you were good and others you were naughty. Like, for instance, the day when a little mischievous spirit seized onto you and strips of wall paper came from the wall, Other thoughts came crowding into my mind, memories of days gone by when we laughed at you, scolded you, and, some serious times when we worried over you.

The first year of your life passed away, quickly perhaps, but you grew so quickly every day was an adventure not only for yourself but for us. You had a party for your first birthday, and although you sat up like Jacky you probably will never remember it. But that day you got “Goog’ga” for a present. Poor “Goog-ga”. As each week passed he got dirtier and more worn. And the dirtier he got the more you loved him. Then at Xmas,”Teddy” came along. Dear old Teddy. So plump and with such a frizzy coat. In a few months he was still plump but his hair was not so frizzy. Then, you’d never go to sleep unless Teddy and “Goog-ga” were tucked in with you. You’ll never know how angelic, how like a cherub you looked, when after your bath you were popped into bed with your little playmates. Indeed God is good. How many times have your Mother and I crept in to see you sleeping. And how many times have I wiped away tears, gentle little tears of happiness from her eyes when we came out.

All those days were so beautiful, like the night I sat and watched yesterday evening. But soon came the rain. Your lovely country, so free and so proud, was fighting for its life. Those indeed were dark days. I had to leave Mother and you and become a soldier. Thousands of other Daddies went too, because we had to fight so that all the Mothers and little boys and girls could live happily. That was many months ago. I do not know how long it will be before we will be home again together. But rain my little darling does not last for ever.
Through the blackest clouds a little piece of blue appears. The wind blows, and soon the clouds go. So too will peace come and then we can be all happy again.

Because I’m a soldier now Anne I cannot attend your birthday this year. You are going to have a party and I wont be there. But while that party is on I’ll be thinking of you and your Mother. Thinking of the day you came along, and of the days that have gone by since. You are lovely now, like your Mother. Some day, when you grow up, some man is going to be lost in your loveliness, like I was when I fell in love with your Mother. But no matter. We cannot have you forever. While we do we’ll teach you all the lovely things of life, and there are so many beautiful things in life. There are, too, bad things and, these also we will tell you about so that you’ll know how to pass them by.

Maybe it will be years before you will be able to read this letter but when you can you’ll know at least how much we love you and how much you mean to us.

I am looking forward to seeing you soon and to seeing those big brown eyes of yours laugh back at me. Until then my little girl.

Goodbye and God bless you on your birthday.

From your adoring

“Dad-da”

I should've known from the blog lead-in that it was a mistake to read it from my workstation. It is touching to me on so many levels.

For one, I am a parent and I could only sympathise with the pain and anxiety that a separation like that can bring. It must be heart-wrenching to leave behind your loved ones, not knowing whether you'll be coming back. As for the wife, I cannot imagine her agony. Look at me, hubby just goes on business trips and I get all pissy, worried and anxious all in one go. Although I must say it's a poor comparison; I really feel like a petty idiot now.

On another front, I see myself in the little girl. To those of you who do not know my background, my father had been a soldier for most of his life, having been a veteran of World War II and the Korean War. By the time I was born, he no longer went off to fight in wars, but I imagine he could have written me notes like that had I been born during those times. I knew my father to be an eloquent man so letters like that must come easy to him.

I'll never know whether the letter's author ever came home. And in much the same way, I would never know whether my father had it in him to express his love for me like that. Perhaps I should ask his children if they ever got letters like that. I certainly never did.

On second thought, maybe not. Some things are better left unknown.

A Month in Review

2010-02-02T16:26:00.003+08:00

When somebody said that time flies, he sure wasn't kidding. It's already two days into February, and looking back at my January blogging...there's only one measly entry! This after making a resolution to increase the quantity and quality of my blogs! Tsk tsk tsk...

Now that the rant is out of the way, it's time to get back to business.

**********

Anyway, my son has already put in a month in Nursery school. Here's how it went, per week:

Week 1

Marked by daily bouts of separation anxiety. It was a chore-and-a-half for my mother-in-law to leave him in the classroom.
Cried a lot in class, even heaving up at times because of excessive bawling. He's okay upon leaving the house, but his panic increases in direct proportion to his physical proximity to school. The fact that the rest of the kids were crying their eyes out, as well, did not really help.
Didn't eat well during breaks (they are not allowed to bring in their own food, and he is used to being fed).
The teachers discovered he could read, and so sometimes he was made to read aloud in front of the class. I'm guessing it's a welcome respite for the tired teachers!
At the homefront, I implemented SSS - the Smiley Sticker Scheme. Each day that he "survives" school means a smiley sticker on the calendar. I also leave him little notes daily to encourage him to enjoy his classes.
Reward for earning 3 smileys out of 5: a trip to Candy Empire to get his favourite sweets.

Week 2

Missed two days of classes because of a throat infection. If you ask me, it was probably the stress catching up on him. That, or he had too much sweets from Candy Empire.
Seemed to be getting used to the school routine. When I told him he was going to be absent" and what the word meant, he was genuinely sad and said, "I hate being absent!"
Enjoyed going to school but was largely non-participative. According to my MIL (who watched discreetly from a window), my son didn't join the singing or the games. He just basically did his own thing, sometimes loitering around the classroom. I guess the teachers were just giving him a break and a chance to adjust better.
Began to trust his form teacher. He gets to the door and immediately takes the teacher's hand. It was an almost no-tears week!
2 smileys out of 5. So no reward this week. Besides, he wasn't well enough to enjoy a day out, anyway.

Week 3

No more crying episodes in school. But then there's the bargaining. Like on the way to class, he tells his Grandma, "I'm sleepy" or he wants to watch TV "just five minutes longer."
One time I brought him to school, he went out the classroom, close to tears, and told me he was tired, and where was I going? But I thought it's only because I was the one who brought him there, out of the routine, thus the clinginess.
Another time, he had to stay behind for 30 minutes after dismissal. The reason? He refused to finish his school work! And it was just a colouring activity! His form teacher called in my MIL and asked her to stay with him, to get him to finish the work, because he refused to listen to them.
Feedback from the form teacher: my son is extremely bright, but was very noisy in class. Can't stay seated. Doesn't pay attention to lessons. And refused to do his school work.
As a result of the non-compliance, I had to write a letter to his teacher to explain my son's personality quirk. He abhors it when someone tells him to do something "just because"...he'll simply dig in his heels and refuse. You need to explain satisfactorily before he agrees (takes too much after the mother, I presume...). And, of course, he's been exposed to a structured environment for all of two weeks, so he still needed time to adjust. The separation anxiety alone was a big hurdle for him.
Had to amend the SSS rules because of this. Instead of simply not crying, he now needs to participate and listen to his teachers for him to earn a smiley.
However, since the brouhaha transpired towards the end of the week, and he had earned some smileys already, a promise was a promise: he still got his Timezone play time for getting 4 out of 5 smileys.

Week 4

Greatly improved, especially after being given The Talk by his form teacher. I imagine being told you need to stay if your work is not done - to the extent of sleeping in the classroom unless you complete it - is enough to make a child behave. My son clarified, though, where it is he would sleep if there was no bed, and whether the lights and air-conditioning will be turned off. Gotta love this kid's spunk!
He is more open now and tells us stories of what happened during his day. The first three weeks, he usually just responds with "I don't know" when asked. He now shares brief stories with us, provided we ask the right questions. I think he will learn to tell us about his day on his own, eventually.
He now eats with relish, albeit slower than his classmates, and finishes his food (he said he didn't need to throw his buns in the trash bin anymore).
4 smileys out of 5: I took him out to eat in a favourite restaurant, and got him some new storybooks.

I was pleasantly surprised to receive an SMS from his form teacher yesterday. Here's what she told me: Thank you for your letter of appreciation and updating me on issues relating to your boy. You and your family had really contributed a lot toward Miguel's learning and intellect. He's a really bright boy and a joy to have in class. He's doing alright in class last week compared to the second week when he was here, he is listening to me when I told him to wait for his turn, or to give his friend a chance to talk. Give him some time and in no time he'll understand that there are rules to follow in school. He is also getting along well with his peers.

Now isn't that a delightful thing to hear? I'm so proud of him. It earned him two smileys in a single day.

Todate, I am still keeping the daily ritual of leaving him notes. I think this is something I have to do the entire year; one time I forgot, he seemed genuinely disappointed. But I can live with the daily note-scribbling, considering the emotional benefits he reaps from them far outweighs the very small time or inconvenience it requires from me.

As far as rewards go, I still plan to give him the occasional treat. I am planning to try spacing the rewards, placing it at 2-week intervals instead of weekly ones. Let's see if it works. He is currently working on 10 smileys for a trip to the zoo.

So that's my son's month in review. I hope things keep getting better. He's not making much progress with his Chinese lessons, though, but that's another problem for another day. One step at a time, I'm positive we have the school year licked.

All photos courtesy of Getty Images

Bits and Pieces for the New Year

2010-01-06T12:19:00.000+08:00

I know we're six days into 2010, but still I wish everyone a happy new year! I hope you all had a good celebration over the holidays with your family, friends and loved ones.

**********

I was supposed to put up a post before 2009 ended. However, the holiday rush caught up with me, and between my work and my family life, I lost the opportunity to complete the entry. Well, better late than never.

Looking back, last year:

...hubby and I were still struggling a bit in this new place. Now, I think we are in a much better position than we were a year ago and can afford a few of our small luxuries. We're also closer to completing payments for some of our major purchases. Woohoo!

...I just started out at work. Today, I am more comfortable in the workplace and gained friends in the form of my colleagues.

...I lost a high school friend and an uncle. But I believe I just gained two more prayer warriors who'll incessantly plead my cases to The Big Guy Up There.

...I missed Manila a whole lot. I still do.

...I argued a lot with my mother on the phone. We now end our conversations with I love you and I miss you.

...I lived with my family in a very basic (read: crappy) flat. We have since moved to a better location, with a very homey atmosphere.

...the quantity and quality of my blogs increased. I hope to outdo myself this year.

Overall, I was very blessed in 2009. I thank my Divine Writer for making it a challenging yet rewarding time. I ask for His continued blessings in the coming year.

**********

And because He was very generous to me, I would like to pay Him in a small measure by improving myself. This year, I resolve to:

...find more opportunities to communicate with Him.

...be less critical of myself and others.

...be more patient and less short-tempered. I know I sometimes hurt my husband and son when I have those occasional - okay, not-so-occasional - outbursts, and I am endlessly sorry for that.

...be wiser with my spending. I know I should take my savings more seriously this time around.

...drink more water and take less soda.

...spend less time on the internet (Facebook seriously hogs time!). Less time on the computer means more time for my loved ones.

...be less whingey when hubby goes on his business trips.

...be more productive, both at home and at work.

...be more organised.

...blog even more.

I hope I can keep my resolutions. After all, a new year calls for new beginnings.

**********

Speaking of new beginnings, my son entered a new phase in his life. He is now officially a school boy!

Last Monday, hubby and I played the supportive parents by attending the school orientation with our son. He seemed happy in his new environment, and he was eagerly checking out the toys and all the interesting stuff inside. Actually, on our way to school, he asked me, "Mommy, why do you have to come with me?" Sigh. It stung a bit, but I was glad to see then that he would have to trouble adjusting.

Turned out I spoke too soon. Yesterday, Grandma reported that he threw a royal hissy fit in class. Two hours into the session (he is scheduled for four-hour daily classes), he realised that none of us were around. He howled for all he was worth and none of the teachers could get him to quiet down! Dear Lord! Some of our acquaintances even said he was banging on the door. Good thing Grandma arrived and he calmed down, but everytime she would disappear from his sight, he would start whimpering again. Oh boy.

I understood he must have felt abandoned (he confirmed that he started crying when he saw Grandma wasn't around). I think what made it worse was when he saw some of the other kids' moms were peeping through the windows, but he could not see a familiar face to wave at.

It was time to put all my pseudo-psychiatry on a test run. I talked to him last night and explained there was no need to feel scared. I also took a desk calendar and drew a smiley face for 4 January, and a sad face on the 5th. I told him that if there are more smiley faces than sad faces for the week, he will get a reward on Saturday; if there are a lot of sad faces, then he won't get any treats. He looked like he understood, so he chose his reward: a trip to the candy shoppe to get some jellybeans. He also said the sad faces "looked weird and funny", so he vowed not to add any more to the calendar.

Apart from the bedtime pep talk I gave him, I also left a letter for him to read before he goes to school. Basically, I told him to be brave and have fun at school. (update: I just chatted with him a few minutes ago, and he said he promises "not to break his smile today")

I really hope all the encouragement works. I know that separation anxiety is all part and parcel of a child's growing pains, and that it's perfectly healthy, but of course I do not want him to be traumatised by the experience. School is meant to be a happy place, and I hope he believed me when I told him that his class is his very own special place to enjoy. Let's see what happens today (all fingers and toes crossed!).

**********

I started catching up on my reading late last year. I'm glad to report I'm gaining some headway into the little reading list I made a few months ago. It's a nice feeling when you finally purchase a hard-to-find title. My first purchases for the year:

**********

And, finally, the first Monday of the year saw my hubby on yet another business trip. Oops, I promised not to be whingey. Right. I'll shut up now, I think.

A Christmas Story

2009-12-28T21:43:00.002+08:00

My son started learning how to write sometime last year, before he turned three. And in the tradition that I grew up in, I asked him to write letters to Santa to ask for his Christmas gift (Okay, I know I'll have a hard time explaining when he finds out that the jolly old man is just a myth, but that concept made my childhood so I'm not going to deprive my son of a bit of holiday magic).

This was his letter last year:

Done with a lot of coaching from Mommy, but it's in his own handwriting.

Fast-forward to 2009. One Sunday evening, I reminded him to set aside some time the following day to compose his letter for Santa. I thought it would be another way to keep him occupied while I was at work. However, when I came home that Monday evening, it turned out that he forgot. When I asked him where his letter was, his eyes turned into two big O's (I was guessing his thought bubble read "oh, shit!", if only the words were part of his toddler-ese) and he got all panicky. You see, the previous night, I told him that Santa had a deadline for letter-collection (I was hoping for maximum recall and motivation. Well, trust a three-year-old's attention span to nullify all your adult theories.).

As I sat down to dinner, he bugged me over and over to help him to write. I told him to wait until after I've finished my meal because I was starving. He kept quiet for a while so I thought he complied. As I was putting away my dinner plate, my precocious boy showed me this, done with absolutely no adult intervention:

With such a darling letter, who is Santa Claus to resist?

(By the way, I drew the star on the upper-right corner to let him know what a great effort he made!)

Here's his Christmas loot from Santa:

A blue scooter (with flashing lights!). Santa was also thoughtful enough to include a toddler-sized helmet, in matching blue with yellow trims.

And because he is such a wonderful boy, Daddy and Mommy got him these:

That's a Zhu Zhu pet starter kit, as well as a hamster (Scoodles) to complete the fun. He's a fan of the game "Hamsterball" so he enjoyed this one, too.

Well, Grandma was not to be outdone, so my son got another gift in the form of a Vtech Read and Learn. If you must know, my son can already read very well, it's just that he gets a bit lazy with writing (blame the technological age for this...he'd rather be chatting complete with audibles). Grandma thought this will help motivate him to write more.

To cap off his Christmas, we went to watch Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakuel. Mighty proud of him for sitting through the entire movie without his usual loud chatter. It's either he's starting to behave like a big boy, or he was completely pooped out from staying up too late the previous night (and waking up bright and early to play with his new toys). He didn't enjoy it as much as he did Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, but he did get some laughs from the cute critters.

No wonder kids love Christmas so much. They get spoilt to bits! But I guess we parents are also guilty of a bit of self-indulgence: seeing our kids' eyes brighten up and hearing their loud shrieks of delight are just too much of a pleasure to pass up on.

P.S. Daddy and Mommy also had their share of a ho-ho-holiday:

LTD F50 for the guy, HP Mini for the gal :) Woohoo!

I felt stupid watching this movie...

2009-12-21T16:43:00.003+08:00

...because my mouth was hanging open the entire time! Just when I thought there weren't any good movies this year, the last few weeks of 2009 gave me something to remember. The last movie I watched with as much drooling intensity was The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

I have no coherent thoughts to even begin a pseudo-movie review. Suffice it to say that I enjoyed myself immensely. So much so that halfway through the movie, I was already elbowing my husband and telling him I want to see it again. Hubby was very impressed with the CGI (he does CGIs, too, so it is obviously very hard to please him in that department). To call the animation "spectacular" might be a bit of an understatement. Stupendous would be more apt.

Film critics might have a thing or two to say about the storyline, that it's bordering on being patronisingly tree-hugging, but I'm not complaining. The movie's overall message was more powerful to me than what a good old disaster movie can muster. It's a bit predictable in some parts, but all things considered, it was engaging enough for me not to notice that it's about 2 1/2 hours long.

True to its press releases, Avatar does take you to a world beyond imagination. Just see it. I mean, if you've watched 2012 and you let this one slip by, someone ought to knock some sense into you ;)

Growing old, Desperate Housewives-style

2009-12-09T17:20:00.001+08:00

It may seem an irony for a full-blooded production person like me, but I rarely watch TV. I used to, in heavy doses, but that was when I was much, much younger. The time when I didn't drift off to sleep within five minutes of staring at the tube.

However, there are some TV series that occasionally catch my attention and have me looking forward to new episodes every week. Desperate Housewives is one of them. I find the characters funny, the plot engaging, and the writing style equally witty and insightful. I think that if I were half as good as their writers there, that would be my writing style, too (although I do not think I would make a racial slur like they did one time, but that is a separate issue altogether). I was watching an episode last night and one particular scene touched me.

Two of the characters, husband and wife Tom and Lynette Scavo (played by Doug Savant and Felicity Huffman), were having an argument. As a quick background, Tom wanted to have ~~plastic~~ elective surgery done to his face. He felt that the years have taken their toll on his features, and he's blaming what he perceives as his unsavoury appearance for his lack of employment. He is convinced that prospective employers give him a cursory once-over during interviews, and he immediately loses out to the next fresh graduate sitting in the waiting room. Apart from his increasing insecurity stemming from Lynette's flourishing career, his ego received a further bruising when they chanced upon an old classmate who looked about 10 years younger than Tom did. And Lynette just happened to rub salt into his wounds when she laughingly remarked, "Seriously? You two were classmates? You were IN THE SAME CLASS?!"

Lynette tried dissuading Tom from the procedure. Of course, there was the money issue; they had several school-age kids plus a toddler in a single-income household. She is also afraid that once Tom's outward appearance improves, he would think she looks unsightly and would dump her for a pretty young thing. She went as far as inviting an officemate to their house - someone who had a botched-up surgery - just so she could drive her point in. But Tom is adamant. And as they argued in the kitchen, far from their guest's hearing, Lynette revealed her true reasons for not wanting him to go under the knife.

Lynette said she did not look at Tom's lines as wrinkles, but as a map of their life together. Each crease represented an important event. The thought lines on his forehead, "That's you worrying about how to provide for us." The frown marks, "That's my cancer" (she is a cancer survivor). The crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, "That's all the laughter we shared together." Needless to say, Tom relented and did not pursue the surgery.

Touching and true. Each moment of laughter, each heartbreaking instance, the marching years make sure that they are all indelibly etched into our countenance. Most of us choose to pay attention to the superficial; I, for one, am guilty of that (I find myself increasingly attracted to wrinkle-control creams, and I actually keep a nightly regimen to keep the creases at bay).

But, perhaps, what we must all aim to do is to look beyond the sagging skin and diminishing youth, and focus on how well we journeyed using the Maps of our Lives. And it is only when we are truly happy with our life's voyage can we stand in front of the mirror, look at those wrinkles without batting a heavily-mascara'd eyelash, and still say that, "I am beautiful."

I hope to remain beautiful for my husband. And I pray that, someday, many years from now, despite my age and outwardly appearance, he will continue to bestow me with the same loving look and say, "You are still my beautiful wife."

Tom and Lynette's photo courtesy of ABC.

Old couple's photo courtesy of Getty Images.

Home for the Holidays

2009-12-07T17:30:00.003+08:00

...is exactly what I would like to be, but unfortunately, I will be spending another Yuletide season here in Lah-Lah-Land. That's two years in a row. Sigh.

With less than 20 days to go before Christmas Day, I feel all sorts of nostalgic thinking about the fun traditions I'll be missing out on. So I compiled the Top 10 things I miss about Christmas at home (in no particular order):

Food - a Filipino holiday is just an excuse to shamelessly indulge in cholesterol-laden, heart-attack inducing, waistline-growing dishes like there's no tomorrow. I always took the fiesta ham for granted, but I found it conspicuously missing from our table last year (ham just doesn't taste the same here). And what I wouldn't give for the lechon and the ever-reliable lechon paksiw the following day. Puto bumbong and bibingka are also sorely missed.
Someone else to plan the holiday spread for you - Now that I'm the one doing the planning for the Noche Buena and Media Noche feasts, I do appreciate my mother's time and effort. I never knew it could be so stressful! Hats off to you, Ma!
The crisp Christmas chill - it's a bit colder here now, but not nearly as nippy as December nights back home. It seems absurd listening to "Winter Wonderland" when you're all drenched in sweat.
Tinsel-laden streets and homes - living in a multiracial community has its drawbacks, foremost of which is the lack of yuletide spirit! If you don't go to the central business district, or to the homes of your fellow Pinoys, chances are you won't be seeing any glitter or tinsel. Where I'm at, Christmas is just like a regular Sunday - an extra day off work, and more excuses for shopping. Our company keeps business hours on the 24th and 31st, mind you (although I do plan to take half-day leaves for Christmas and New Year's Eve, at the very least).
Gifts - at the risk of sounding materialistic, I do miss the gaily-wrapped parcels. I miss the unexpected packages waiting for me on my desk or beside my pillow (especially if it's from one of your subordinates or younger family members - no matter how small the present is, I am always very touched by the thought that goes with the token). And I sorely miss wrapping presents for family and friends - it's my favourite thing to do (my family knows that absolutely no one else can touch the wrapping paper and adhesive!).
The Starbucks planner - oh, yes, I so miss the daily pilgrimage to the nearest Starbucks branch to get my stickers. I know I fell for the sick marketing ploy, but, well, one of the owners is a personal acquaintance so maybe I'm willing to be a bit of a sucker :) But, no, I will not be asking her to send me a planner. Where's the thrill in that?!
Christmas parties - do I sound sick yet? Well, maybe I am - HOMEsick, more like it. I used to hate attending these, but since Christmas parties here are virtually non-existent (save, perhaps, for MNCs or other bigger companies), I do miss the fun and silliness of it all (and the ensuing inebriation).
Christmas plugs on TV and radio - there's a smattering of that here, but they don't feel the same as ours do. They're not as warm as how we do them. Our TVCs and RCs back home make you feel as if you're stepping into a Hallmark card, or getting on the Coca-Cola Christmas train with Santa.
Family and friends - need I explain?
Alvin and the Chipmunks - this is one of my little quirks, but Christmas just doesn't feel Christmas-y if I don't hear "Christmas Don't Be Late". The silly song heralds the season of cheers for me! And they don't play it here!

I do hope we get to go home for next year's Yuletide celebration, though. Cliche, trite...but there really is no place like home.

A Question of Taste

2009-11-20T10:27:00.007+08:00

I have to wonder these days if there's something wrong with my taste. A lot of people I know loved 2012, but as you have read here, I wasn't exactly thrilled about it.

Now, almost everyone is raving about the movie New Moon on their Facebook walls - either in eager, hip-writhing anticipation of watching, or in jubilation after being one of the first to catch it on-screen. Stephanie Meyer fans can rest easy, you have one less competition for seats here. I will not be queuing up for that movie anytime.

Don't get me wrong. I know the story of the Twilight series. In fact, I own the lot. So how do I explain owning the entire series when I'm not such a fan? Well, I finished the first book, and so I took it upon myself to go through all four books. After all, one must finish what one has started. Although some parts appealed to my long-forgotten teenage heart and reminded me how it felt like to have a really serious infatuation, I mostly suffered through the thick volumes. Especially New Moon. Bella is just too full of herself, and I am not about to apologise for that opinion.

I suppose the book version is okay, except that I am not the target market. Reading it did not feel any different from going through a copy of Goth-infused Sweet Valley High. It's too teenybopper. Which I guess would explain the brouhaha over Robert Pattison and his cohorts. (Imagine being hit by a car, trying to run away from frenzied teenagers - these rabidly "crush-ing" 16-year-olds will sooner drive RP to an untimely death, rather than succeed in having him kiss them)

Which leads me to another point. Why on God's green earth do people seem to think RP is perfect as Edward? So NOT! The book used glowing adjectives like beautiful, perfect, God-like, ethereal and all the wonderful superlatives you can come up with. Sadly, the screen version (I watched Twilight on DVD) falls oh-so-short of these heavenly attributes. RP looks like the classic vampire, which is a corpse. Awful acting, dead eyes. Oh dear, maybe that's why I thought he was perfect as Cedric Diggory. He died.

I expect an angry throng beating down my front door now, waiting to stone me to death. But, really, Brad Pitt is the closest thing to a perfect vampire if there ever was one. And Anne Rice will kick Stephanie Meyer's ass any day.

P.S. I am still contemplating whether I should post a question on my FB, as to why everyone is so excited about the gosh-darned movie. Then again, my Twilight fan-friends will probably try to talk me into watching it, and wax poetic over RP, so maybe it isn't such a wise thought...

The Gift

2009-11-19T11:26:00.001+08:00

Last night, my son and I were having our usual pre-bedtime conversation.

Knowing that we live in a country with mixed religion, races and culture, I try my best to teach him about the Catholic faith he was born into. So I take these bedtime rituals as an opportunity to discuss things with him without sounding too preachy.

Since he likes listening to music before going to sleep (usually Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror", ad nauseam), I sang one of my favourite church hymns as a child, which was "Jesus, My Friend". I was telling him Jesus is our Father, yet He is also our friend.

After listening to the song, my son asked me where I learned it. I told him I went to a Catholic school, and so I learned the song as a little girl. He looked at me and said, "So I was listening to you while you were singing it?" I understand my son does not have a very firm concept of time yet, not quite grasping what is the past, present and future. I endeavoured to explain it, in simpler terms:

MOMMY: No, you were not listening in because you weren't born yet.
SON: (PUZZLED LOOK) Where was I?
MOMMY: You were still in Heaven because you were still an angel.
SON: I was with my Father, Jesus? (MOMMY NODS) How did I get here?
MOMMY: (NERVOUSLY ANTICIPATING A BIRDS-AND-THE-BEES CONVERSATION) Daddy and I prayed for you. You were Papa Jesus' very special gift to us.
SON: (FACE BRIGHTENING UP WITH A CHARMING SMILE) Did I come in a box?

Photo courtesy of Getty Images

2012: A Review

2009-11-17T11:46:00.005+08:00

Note: This post contains some spoilers, so if you haven’t watched the movie yet, please skip this review.

Cast: John Cusack – Jackson Curtis

Amanda Peet – Kate Curtis (Jackson’s ex-wife)

Danny Glover – US President Thomas Wilson

Thandie Newton – Laura Wilson (Presidential daughter)

Chiwetel Ejiofor – Dr. Adrian Helmsley

My husband and I were expecting a crowded theatre when we decided to watch last Saturday. A combination of CGI and disaster is a sure-fire crowd-drawer, after all. Sure enough, the only good seats left were for the 11:50pm showing, and so we snapped it up before someone else “out-booked” us.

Turns out it was a blessing in disguise, because at least our son was snoring happily by the time we snuck out for our movie date (otherwise, I would have been too guilty to leave him behind). Good thing the mall is a short five-minute walk from our place. We even had time for a toffee nut frapuccino before the movie started. But I digress.

First off, 2012 does not exactly have a stellar cast. Cusack will forever remind me of Some Kind of Wonderful, and I was half-expecting him to say, “My future looks good on you.” The point is, he should’ve stuck to being an 80s matinee idol, and I find him totally ineffective in his role. He was still John, not Jackson.

I was also a bit disappointed with how under-utilised some of the actors were. Glover is a good actor, but he seemed to have been reduced to nothing more than a simpering, old, fatalistic politician (not that there was anything he could’ve done about the disasters, anyway). But they could have at least made him a bit more inspiring or awesome. James Earl Jones managed to be even more dignified using just his voice in The Lion King.

Peet was the mother of two kids, and she acted like a terrified mother, which I guess is fine. Any mom would be panic-stricken with the degree of disaster all around. I was sitting in the moviehouse and Peet’s eyes found mirrors in mine. When you watch a movie that claims to be based on something that has a fraction of scientific basis behind it, of course you’d be scared. So maybe the way I felt while watching her was not out of her spectacular thespian abilities, but out of a real maternal fear I had. As for Newton, well, let’s just say she looked good behind the wheel of a TT Coupe in Mission Impossible 2. That’s about it.

The story was poorly written. For a two-and-a-half hour movie, it left a lot of blanks. If you happen to be one of those who have never heard of the ancient Mayan prophecy and the hypotheses (and hype) everyone is attaching to it, you’d probably be baffled why you are looking at such images of destruction. The writers never bothered to squeeze in a decent explanation on the theory, apart from mentioning them in passing. It is strange that the vehicle they chose to kind of explain the Mayan prophecy was a loony guy.

150 minutes of talk-time and you’d think they would have room for that. Maybe they should have edited out some of the useless melodrama. Case in point: a father (a minor character) wanted to say goodbye to his estranged son, and just as the guy picked up the phone and was within 2 seconds of responding, the earth swallowed him whole while his father listened in horror. Was it really that important? I also felt that ALL the sequences involving the cruise ship could have been edited out and it wouldn’t be an issue. I guess they just wanted a touch of Titanic, even if it’s non-essential.

Most of the action sequences felt too contrived. Outrunning a volcanic eruption? Indeed. The loony guy’s scene at the peak of Yellowstone was far too stretched. Escaping a violent earthquake on a limo, when the rest of the city was swallowed up, is simply unbelievable. Plus, being able to take off on a plane just when you run out of runway is too much good luck, especially when the entire planet is having a really bad day.

Personally, the only saving grace were the rare moments of comedic relief, the heartwrenching scenes with children, and those who could not be saved because they couldn’t afford a billion Euros for a seat on the Ark (even if one of them happens to be the ONE who discovered the cataclysmic truth). It shoves in your face just how materialistic the world is, and that the government (particularly the US, in this case) is just one big conspiracy.

Overall, 2012 is a disaster mega-fest that combines the horror of The Day After Tomorrow, Dante’s Peak and Poseidon that falls flat in terms of my expectations. You’ll be riveted by computer-generated tsunamis and earthquakes, but that’s about it. Your only motivations for seeing this movie would be, 1) you’ll be the only one who hasn’t seen it if you don’t, and 2) animation-heavy movies just don’t look as nice on your 42-inch flat screen.

The verdict: 2 out of 5 popcorns. To paraphrase the tagline: you were warned.

The moral lesson: real estate investments in Africa would be a very wise idea. Oh, and Bentleys are really, really cool cars.

Thursday's Thoughts

2009-11-12T11:05:00.003+08:00

An animal without stripes
A few days ago, my three-year-old son and I were watching TV. A commercial for a sporting brand flickered in and he curiously asked who the guy on it was. I told him, “Sweetie, that’s Tiger Woods. He’s famous because he’s very, very good in golf.”

He considered that for a while, then gave me a thoughtful look. “Tiger Woods?” he asked. “What a strange name, Mommy!”

Come to think of it, it IS a strange name. It just took a toddler to point out the obvious. Strangely reminiscent of The Emperor’s New Clothes.

Reading progress
Finally, I am in the final chapter of Kafka on the Shore! It took me an inordinately long time to finish that book. For one thing, as the review mentioned, it’s a “metaphysical mindbender”…and they sure weren’t kidding! Murakami has a very fertile imagination. As I’m reading it, my mind was on video-edit mode, complete with the dissolves and Gaussian blurs and other transitional effects. I’m a bit ambivalent, though, on how this thing will turn out if and when someone decides to adapt it on the big screen. It might be a bit too “metaphysical” to be given any justice in a movie version, in my opinion.

Another reason why I took so long reading it is because I’ve been getting dizzy trying to accomplish the feat in a moving bus; these dizzy spells sometimes carry on well into the evening. My husband warned me about my eyesight. Being that I'm thirtysomething that loves reading even in not-so-conducive lighting, I take that seriously. I'm not about to wear specs if I can help it. But with a chatterbox of a three-year-old around, I can hardly find any decent reading time. And when I put him to sleep, I conk out even before he does, so that’s the end of the peaceful wee hours I could’ve enjoyed.

This book deserves a re-reading. I have a feeling I’ll appreciate it even more the second or even third time around. I love this book and I would definitely recommend it to my cerebral friends.

On to other books
I was surprised to enjoy Jodi Picoult’s Salem Falls. If you happen to like some small-town intrigue mixed with courtroom drama, and a hint of Wiccan charm, you may enjoy this book, too. I think I would consider getting a copy of My Sister’s Keeper, if I don’t find a copy of Nineteen Minutes first (which is on my reading list). But I think I would have to forego JP’s books in favor of all the other titles that are just screaming out my name.

As for Eat Pray Love…hmmm…I find it so-so. I liken the feeling to sinking my nose into somebody else’s private journal, and someone I don’t know that well, for that matter. The book is okay, but you won’t be missing out on a lot if you don’t get your hands on a copy.

After Kafka, The Time Traveler’s Wife is now winking at me from my bedside table. My colleague graciously loaned me the book. She cautioned me that this novel had her blinking back tears in the MRT, so unless I want curious stares from complete strangers, I think I’ll dive into this book in the privacy of my bedroom, thank you very much.

Next on my to-buy list: a toss-off between Artemis Fowl and The Lovely Bones.

The trouble with Tuesdays
The past few Tuesdays have been quite a bummer for me. Hubby’s been leaving every second day of the work week since the start of this month for his business trips. And it’s not gonna let up until sometime next month, I surmise.

Sigh. I knew the two months’ worth of non-travel had to have some hidden repercussions. But as my brother pointed out, I should expect it because his work requires him to travel a fair bit.

I just never get used to it, that’s all. At least, I have a lot more reasons to look forward to Fridays because he’s usually home by then.

Flight

2009-10-23T11:01:00.002+08:00

It is in times of the most profound sorrow that I find myself at a loss for words.

You have been given your wings, my beloved uncle. You are now living up to your name...you have been liberated from all your pain and sorrow, and you now stand with all the saints and angels in Heaven, to feast with your beloved Creator for all eternity.

Please be our angel and watch over us left here on earth. We send our loving hellos to all our family and friends who have gone before us. Oh, and while you're there, please tell Francis M and Michael Jackson that I'm a big fan. Maybe you can also share with me what really happened to Marilyn, Elvis and JFK, if and when you do get to chat with them.

Farewell, my dear uncle. Rest well. I will never forget how you have been like a father to me when I needed it. Please tell my dad everything I've always wanted to tell him but never got around to doing so.

You will be missed. See you in the next life.

"Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die."

A Bag's Life

2009-10-22T15:49:00.016+08:00

I remember a time (a veeeery long time ago, if I may add) when I could go out the house without a bag. Much to the chagrin of my fashionista mother (who, in true Imeldific style, maintained a plethora of bags, shoes, various accessories, jewellery...the works), I insisted on sticking everything in the pockets of my jeans, and anything that doesn't fit either gets left behind or enjoys instant accommodation in her purse.

Fast-forward a decade hence and here I am, getting those occasional gentle scoldings from my husband, who is convinced I'm close to developing scoliosis because of the bag I constantly carry. I haven't gone around weighing it yet, but I think it weighs close to three kilos.

Here's my load on a regular work day:
Cosmetic bag - which normally contains foundation, concealer, powder, 12-colour eyeshadow palette, blusher, various make-up brushes, eyeliner, lip gloss, lipliner, lipstick and mascara, plus a comb. My eyelash curler doesn't fit in the pouch, but if it did, I'd bring it along in a heartbeat. Hey, a girl has to be pretty, right?

A bottle of perfume - because a girl's got to smell pretty, too, even after a long day.

My purple umbrella - you never know when it's gonna rain (although, weirdly, I rarely use it because I find umbrellas too cumbersome...I carry one just in case I change my mind).

Marlboro Medium - and a lighter, of course.

A pack of tissue - because you don't want to eat at the hawkers without it. On top of that, I also have a handkerchief.

A change of undies - plus feminine pads and pantiliners. Because I never want to be caught unprepared (even if I'm as regular as clockwork).

MP3 player - it's a staple for a Singapore commute.

Plus:
Mobile phone
Wallet and coin purse
Hand sanitiser
Pen and small notebook
Candy
Sunglasses
Any book I'm reading at the moment
My breakfast (usually a sandwich)
Fan (it gets hot, okay)
Name card holder
Rosary - not that I use it, but it's been my constant companion since 2nd year high school. I never leave home without it.
Thumb drive
House keys
Nipper (for those pesky hangnails)

No wonder my bag weighs at least three kilos! Come to think of it, it's a good thing I have an office cabinet where I can leave my phone chargers and organiser, not to mention that I don't lug around my laptop anymore as I refuse to take home my work.

That's a normal working day for my bag. On a family day out, my bag heaves even more with a change of clothes and various odds and ends for my son (water bottle, wet wipes, snacks, etc.), and a few things that don't fit in my husband's pockets.

Well, such is the life of a working mother, I discovered. Which is why I can never get around using those teeny-weeny purses that are gathering dust in my wardrobe. And which is also why my husband has taken to bringing me big bags from his overseas trips (much to my endless delight).

So, what's in your bag?

WTF are you thinking?

2009-10-22T09:45:00.004+08:00

Why people would use the expression OMFG is beyond me.

Maybe they think it's cool to quote quotes from Gossip Girl. Maybe they want to take OMG a notch higher. Or maybe they don't even know what it means, and simply parrot it because "it sounds cool".

You don't have to be Einstein to realise that OMFG means "oh my f*****g god". For crying out loud, IT IS NOT COOL TO CURSE OUR GOD! It makes me squirm just to think about it.

And I'm not just talking about pubescent girls here; even the supposedly mature, "well-educated" "professional" uses the term. Apparently, they didn't learn enough. I think they forgot that the First Commandment said You shall not take the name of the Lord in vain.

Yeah, I'm talking to you. WTF ARE YOU THINKING? IT IS NOT COOL TO SAY "OMFG"!

Faith without blinders

2009-10-21T10:02:00.007+08:00

Warning: if you are a hard-core, ultra-conservative Roman Catholic, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS POST. However, if you still choose to go on, well...don't tell me I didn't warn you.

I came across an interesting post by a certain Mike Aquino. Please read on below (taken verbatim from this post):

**********
I no longer consider myself a Catholic

I no longer consider myself a Catholic. No matter how fondly I remember the good parts of being Catholic – the songs, the retreats, the lessons – Catholicism for me became increasingly difficult to reconcile with common sense and decency.

I can’t reconcile so-called Catholic values with the Catholic institution’s nasty tendency to close ranks around its priests. Child abuse in the priesthood was given cover for so long because bishops would rather hide abusive priests rather than confirm that such abuse took place. Justice became secondary to the preservation of appearances.

I can’t reconcile so-called Catholic virtue with its hierarchy’s politics, often exercised to uphold retrograde policies against family planning and reproductive health. Empowered by its mass believer base, the Catholic Church continues to abuse its political power in the secular world.

In Manila, doctors were forbidden to prescribe contraceptives to patients, because Mayor Atienza thought he could implement Catholic doctrine into municipal governance. Church pressure has distorted the Reproductive Health debate; the simple question of “should government-run health centers provide reproductive health services, including artificial family planning methods” has been drowned out by priests railing against it from the pulpits and banners hung from churches.

There has been no good-faith effort by the Church hierarchy to explain their side; there has only been arm-twisting and emotional blackmail. Church representatives have ignored or walked out on any efforts to engage them in discussion.

In short, I can’t believe the Church is moral anymore. A fatal conclusion for someone who was raised to believe that Catholic priests acted in persona Christi capitis, in the person of Christ.

I now know that is a lie; many Catholics, laymen and priests alike, use their faith as cover for some of the most grievous immoralities. Not just in the Philippines; the Church hierarchy is complicit in genocide in Rwanda, torture in Argentina, and child abuse in the West. In persona Christi capitis my ass.

Due to the Church hierarchy’s own actions, the current situation is becoming more and more unstable – the Church cannot maintain the status quo for long. At least two presidential candidates have declared their disagreement with Church policy on reproductive health, a position that would have been political poison a few years ago. More Catholics are speaking out, or voting with their feet. The Church is less and less seen as being infallible – increasingly its clay feet are showing.

In time, I hope an increasingly secular electorate will realize a few things about the Church and the civic sphere:

The Catholic hierarchy’s interests are not those of the community at large. Catholic interests cannot predominate in a multi-ethnic, multi-confessional community. A Muslim or Protestant mother must not be compelled to settle for government services tailored only to meet Catholic sensitivities, which is what happens when the Church is able to bully legislators into substituting the Catholic agenda for the government’s.

The Church can no longer impose its particular views onto a secular government. Bishops may have to settle for a conversation with equals, instead of expecting to have their own way every time. Catholic scholar David Hollenbach argues that Catholic involvement in the public sphere “must proceed according to a mode of dialogue and persuasion… faith and theology are seen as participants in a drama that involves numerous other actors. The church is not the producer or director of this drama.”

In real life, the usurpation of government decision-making by ecclesiastics has always ended up badly for everyone. The Church loses moral authority, government decision making powers are hobbled, and constituents end up being badly served by dogma-driven decisions.

I no longer consider myself a Catholic. I still remember my Catholic upbringing and influences with fondness, but so much of present Catholic doctrine treats truth and morality as if it can be decided by fiat (”Roma locuta est…”), and I simply cannot be a part of that.

**********

This man read my mind.

Personally, I still think that the Roman Catholic faith is beautiful, with simple, common-sense principles rooted in the universal concept of love. And I believe with all my heart that our Lord is a just and loving God. Unfortunately, the mechanisms of the Church are controlled by men, easily corrupted and victims of their own humanity.

Until this time, I get funny looks from people when they discover that I do not attend Sunday mass regularly. But we should live and let live. In the same way that I respect people who do make an effort to fulfill their Catholic obligations, I think I deserve some respect for my personal decisions. While I will gladly take opportunities to show people my belief in my Divine Writer, I refuse to "fulfill" my Sunday duties just because I want to keep appearances. Sorry to disappoint the Augustinian fathers, but I am a servant of the Divine Word, and not of that person who happens to preach from the pulpit.

Faith is defined as "allegiance to duty or a person, fidelity to one's promises, or sincerity of intentions." We should be guided by this definition, with the operative word being sincerity.

The role of the religious order should not be very different from our own parents. While they should uphold discipline, morality and purity of our faith, 1) they should walk the talk and be living examples of these ideals (instead of closing ranks), and 2) while the basic principles of our faith should remain unchanged, some facets need to be modernised to make its teachings less antiquated and, therefore, followed even more faithfully.

I could go on and on about this. Even as I voice out my opinion, my traditional Catholic school upbringing is already debunking some of my arguments. But, ultimately, I stand only by one thing: I would rather be a faithful personal friend to my Divine Writer who chooses to follow his teachings with eyes wide open, instead of a blind follower who keeps holy for one hour every Sunday and goes back to his old, sinful ways the moment he is out of the chapel's doorway.

Schools of Thought

2009-10-19T11:59:00.012+08:00

I called my mother the other night and told her the exciting news that I just enrolled my son in nursery school.

At the risk of making an understatement, she was not thrilled at the prospect. She was dismayed that I broke one of her cardinal rules: that we, her children, pledge not to enroll our kids (especially male kids) before they reach the age of five. So across about 3000 miles, I got a sound scolding from my mother. Why are you putting my grandson through this? At his age, he should be getting his fill of sleep and play! I'm telling you, you're setting him on the wrong path...he'll get tired of school quickly and you will regret it! And when the time comes he starts skipping school and flunking, don't tell me I didn't warn you!

I think I got the equivalent of Ronald Weasley's Howler.

My mother admonished me on shirking my responsibilities. She is under the impression that I do not want to take charge of my son's education under my personal watchful eye, which is why she says I would rather stick him in school. I just kept quiet because I know getting a word in edgewise, once she gets heated up, is virtually impossible. Especially when it comes to these things.

Let me set the record straight. In all fairness to my mother, she is in a good position to know about these things. She was, after all, an educator for more than 25 solid years (and counting, if you include the lectures my siblings and I get at the slightest provocation). Perhaps she had observed a pattern in my brothers, in my nephews and other male relations, or in her gazillion students, such that she made her own conclusion. She has this theory that the male of our species tire easily of rigid education, and so we must endeavour to delay formal schooling until the last possible minute. In place of school, it is a parent's duty to instruct the child from home, in as conducive a manner as possible, using a play-to-learn approach.

It does sound very ideal. In fact, she used the system on me (even if I am female), so she likes to dangle my intellectual superiority over my siblings to drive in the point (disclaimer: the point expressed is my mother's opinion and not mine).

So why, then, did I not subscribe to her school of thought?

For one thing, I have an opinion on why her system worked so wonderfully for me: SHE was the one teaching me. In my mind, she is still one of the best English teachers around (which explains why I excel in grammar and literature, while failing miserably in Math and Science). I don't think it will work as well for my son if he is stuck most of the day with only the caregiver around. Case in point: after only about two months of being with her, malutong na syang managalog ngayon. At may puntong Ilonggo pa. And I can't blame him because he only spends a few waking hours with us parents during weekdays.

Now don't get me wrong. I have no intention of completely eradicating Filipino from his vocabulary. In fact, I want him to be strong in both languages in oral and written form. My thinking is, the household is mainly Tagalog-speaking, and since he can understand and converse perfectly well in the language, then what remains for us to build will be his English vocabulary and grammar (which is mostly my job, because he knows it's English when he speaks with Mommy). That's on top of the Mandarin which he has yet to learn (and for which he will not be able to get help from any of us).

Secondly, I believe that the time is right to send him to school. He is showing an eagerness to learn, evidenced by the thousand-and-one "why's" I receive daily. His curiosity is insatiable, and I'm afraid the knowledge I have may not suffice. It is truly marvelous for a parent to observe a child's hunger to learn. He can't stop reading, he can't stop asking. And so, there's that window I will NOT miss. I want him to be eager to go to school. I don't want to risk waiting, and find out later on that I have to force him to go because the eagerness had passed.

Most importantly, perhaps, I am painfully aware that my son sorely lacks some age-appropriate company. He is stuck with us adults 24/7. I had that kind of childhood, being the youngest in the brood (my nearest sibling is 11 years older than me). I get all kinds of praises from my parents' friends, on how well-behaved I am, and how very adult I was acting. Now, I hear that kind of opinion often expressed about my son. Which, in my opinion, is not so good for his well-being.

With all due respect to their parenting style, focused as they are on developing my intelligence, they kind of overlooked the growth of my emotional intelligence. I know that it's a fairly new concept and may not have been en vogue when I was a kid, but the fact of the matter remains that EQ is important in making a well-rounded individual. I had a hard time adjusting to my peers when I was younger, and I don't want my son to go through the same difficulties. True, I get compliments that I am "wise beyond my years" and have "older insights", but can one not be precocious yet fully-adjusted to peers? At this point, developing his social skills is something I want for him.

I am blessed to have such an opinionated mother. She is the type who will form her own judgment and will fight you tooth-and-nail for what she believes in. Unfortunately, it is also a trait I seem to have inherited from her.

My heart says I should send my son to school. And I believe it.

What's in a name?

2009-10-14T10:23:00.002+08:00

The other day, I was teaching my son his middle name. He knows his given names (he has two) and his surname by heart, even knows how to spell his full name, so I thought he ought to know about his middle name. After all, that is my father's legacy to me.

So here's the scene. I just revealed his middle name to him. My son looks up to me with mild surprise:

MIGUEL: Mommy, why do I have so many names now?
MOMMY: Baby, that's your middle name.
MIGUEL: What's a middle name?
MOMMY: Your middle name was your Papa's (grandpa's) surname. That was my surname before Daddy and I were married. Now, I use Daddy's surname, and so do you.
MIGUEL: Why isn't it a misname? It's a misname.

This one left me scratching my head. My son has a penchant for coining terms, depending on how he understands the prefix and the suffix. His English is far from perfect but it is a confusing language, after all. My interpretation of "misname" was something like "misspelled", and so I prodded him further:

MOMMY: (confused) You mean it's wrong? No, my surname is correct.
MIGUEL: (exasperated at the stupid mom) NO! I said misname! It's not SIR-name, it should be MISS-name coz you're a girl!

Monday Randoms

2009-10-12T10:40:00.007+08:00

The high point of my week occurred this morning: I just finished enrolling my son in Nursery! He will be starting classes on the first week of January, and will be attending afternoon sessions between 1:00-5:00 pm.

I cannot believe how fast time flies. My baby will be a school boy in the coming months, and that means he will start having a life of his own, away from me. Prior to enrollment, one of the thoughts I had was, will my boy be crying and clinging on to my skirt (or denims) when it's time for him to enter the classroom? That remains to be seen on the 4th of January, but seeing how tickled pink he is at the thought of going to school, it looks like I'll be the one left to deal with my own separation anxiety!

It's a big step for everyone. For my son, it's a whole new world for him, the start of many years of academic learning and social education. For both my husband and I, it will primarily be a crash course on proper budgeting. And then there will be the lifestyle changes; apart from having to think about monthly expenses, we can no longer go on spur-of-the-moment holidays, seeing that our activities now has to follow the Ministry of Education's 2010 calendar.

Adjustments notwithstanding, my son is excited to attend his classes. He has a sense of ownership already ("Have you seen my school? Did you see my teacher today?"), he's looking forward to wearing his 1st uniform, and he's happy that some of his playmates will become his classmates. As for me, sure I have the normal maternal fears (Will there be bullies in class? How can he eat properly when I have to chase him around for each spoonful of food? Will he be able to cope with his Mother Tongue (Mandarin) class?), but overall, it will be for everyone's good (well, I HAVE to send him to school at some point, right?). And ultimately, I think that Mommy and Daddy will learn a lot in the course of the school year.

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

Which brings me to another point. I think I'll have to learn Mandarin together with my child. Number 1, I need that to help him with his lessons. The principal explained to me this morning that kids will bring home one book per week to read together with their parents...so if it happens to be in Chinese, then what the hell will I do? Pin Yin, here I come.

Number 2, it's logical. I'm living in a Chinese-speaking country, and for practical reasons, it's a good idea to learn the language. I'm pathetically stuck at "Ni Hao" and "Xie Xie", so I'm welcoming the opportunity to learn alongside my son. If anything, it will be a great bonding experience for us.

And thirdly, assuming my son will be perfectly conversant in the language in the near future, I wouldn't want to be shut out from his activities with Chinese-speaking friends, right? (Oh dear, I sound like a nosey Mom there...).

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

That said, I am stuck in the office all by my lonesome self (at least in my department). My colleagues are in Indonesia today to celebrate an ex-colleague's wedding. Both hubby and I were actually invited, and I was really looking forward to going. Unfortunately, we had to wriggle our way out at the last minute because of some personal circumstances and schedule problems. Then, there's another co-worker currently in Scotland for a two-week holiday.

So while they are out cavorting in the streets of Jakarta or busy roaming the Scottish highlands, here I am keeping house. Thank goodness blogging is keeping me occupied.

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

Hubby and I will be celebrating our 9th anniversary as a couple this November. It's funny because until now, we remember that anniversary better than our wedding date.

As luck would have it, Hubby will be missing this important anniversary because he has to attend a roadshow in Bangkok. He's asking me to join him on his trip so we can have a Thai celebration, but the practical side of me is kicking in and I am wont to refuse.

It must be a sign of the times. Imagine throwing away a nice holiday in favor of practical reasons! I'm getting old!

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

On more inane things, that pink cow on FarmVille is frustrating me. I can't adopt one on time. I want one!

Bitten by the bookworm

2009-10-09T10:16:00.017+08:00

(Does one get bitten by a bookworm, or does one accidentally bite into one (gross)?)

A few days ago, I was itching to read. I was in the office and I wanted to take an early day off because I JUST HAD TO BUY A NEW BOOK. I don't know why but the feeling was that urgent. So as soon as the clock hit 6:30pm, I ran out the office and went out of my usual route home, just so I can pass through the bookstore.

Here's my loot:

Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat Pray Love

Haruki Murakami's Kafka on the Shore

Jodi Picoult's Salem Falls

En route to the bookstore, I promised myself I would only get one title to satisfy my reading lust. Of course, no matter how hard I try to keep my resolution, it never happens. Although I'd have to say my guilt feelings were a bit assuaged as I got the last two titles on a "buy one, take one" promotion :) On this side of the world, books are a wee bit more expensive than in good old Manille; on average, a paperback costs $17.99, or almost Php600.00. So snagging it under the promo price, that's about $8.99 per title, or around Php300.00 each. Not bad, right? And so, with that triumphant little victory, I proceeded to purchase a third book under the regular price, hahaha (greedy little me)!

Books have always been a personal extravagance. Although, when I think about it, it's not exactly an "extravagance". I write for a living, and so I take it upon myself to continuously expose myself to good writers. Plus, I'd like to think I'm setting a good example for my son. I'm glad to note that he seems to be a voracious reader (I didn't even know he knew how to read - and he just turned three at the time!). That being said, I have to be extra careful now about the titles I pick up and the cover illustrations, because he always asks me what I am reading, and he can already read the title all by himself.

And while I have not even taken two books out of their shrink wraps, I'm already greedily eyeing a few more titles, most of them sourced from this website:

The Sookie Stackhouse series - this was the basis of the hit series, "True Blood" (Dead Until Dark, Living Dead in Dallas, Club Dead, Dead to the World, Dead as a Doornail, Definitely Dead, All Together Dead, From Dead to Worse, A Touch of Dead)
The Artemis Fowl series (~~Artemis Fowl~~, The Arctic Incident, The Eternity Code, The Opal Deception, The Lost Colony, The Time Paradox)
The Monster of Florence, Douglas Preston and Mario Spezi
Memoirs of my Melancholy Whores, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The Uncommon Reader, Alan Bennett
Nineteen Minutes, Jodi Picoult
Eye Contact, Cammie McGovern
My Friend Leonard, James Frey
The Lovely Bones, Alice Sebold
Swift as Desire, Laura Esquivel
Merrick, Anne Rice
Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging, Louise Rennison (but how will I explain this one to my son?)
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, Patrick Suskind (now how do I put the blasted umlaut on his surname?)

There's also Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol, which just hit the book stands. I'm a big fan of Brown and Robert Langdon, but something tells me this just might not live up to my expectations (he might be giving in to publisher pressure, for all I know). That one ranks on the bottom of my to-read list. Let's see how many of these titles I get to strike out...assuming I would remain faithful and not be distracted by the thousands of other paperbacks out there!

So I look forward to this weekend surrounded by the smell of new books. Looks like I'm gonna be keeping a few late (but happy!) nights.

A Child's Prayer

2009-10-07T17:53:00.004+08:00

I never claimed to be deeply religious, but I believe I am a spiritual person. I look up to my Divine Writer and I know that it is my responsibility to raise my son along the right path.

Every night, I ask my son to say a short prayer to his Papa Jesus. I am amazed at how innocent and utterly free of greed a child's prayer can be. Here is a sample of his nightly conversations with Papa Jesus:

"Dear Papa Jesus,
Thank you for my toys and my milk and my clothes and my food.
Please bless my Mommy and my Daddy.
Please bless the vegetables in the market.
And please bless me.
Amen."

Last night, my son overheard my Skype conversation with his Daddy, who is currently on a business trip in Bangladesh. I didn't even know he was listening, so I was quite surprised to hear he had a very special request:

"Dear Papa Jesus,
Thank you for my toys and my milk and my clothes and my food.
Please bless my Mommy and my Daddy.
Please save my Daddy from the dirty toilets.
Thank you for our clean toilets.
And please bless me.
Amen."

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." ~ Matthew 19:14

P.S. Photo credits belong to Getty Images

A letter to my son

2009-09-29T10:56:00.007+08:00

My dearest son,

One of the things I'd like you to learn is that nature is a great equalizer. Whether you live in a palace on top of a hill, or in a shanty under a bridge, we all live under the same sun, and we are all at the mercy of the same rising and ebbing tides.

Last Saturday, September 26, 2009, Typhoon Ondoy (international name: Ketsana) visited Philippine shores and brought unspeakable tragedy in its wake. Weather reports predicted that it packs maximum winds of 100kph, but nobody imagined what kind of damage the rains would leave behind. Imagine dumping a month's worth on the city in a span of nine hours! And it did not discriminate: rich and poor, young and old, famous and nameless faces alike, all of them were left holding on for dear life.

I followed it this entire weekend through internet news and photos, and I am left speechless and almost in tears. Main thoroughfares were rendered impassable, and familiar places became alien landscapes submerged in floodwaters (some as deep as 20 feet!). Just look at the photos and see for yourself:

Ayala underpass in the heart of Makati

Cainta, Rizal

Marikina (one of the hardest hit areas - those are people on the roof)

Katipunan, Quezon City (where, incidentally, the Presidential son was found purchasing liquor from a store not 100m away from where this is!)

Some photos, I could not bear to include here. It includes children (some younger than you at this time) going hungry on rooftops…animals swept away and drowned helplessly…victims fished out from the muddy flood. Some accounts said that in the space of an hour, floodwaters rose from ankle-deep to 6 feet high; in some places, it was as deep as 20 feet. And, mind you, it wasn’t a silent stream: it was a raging tide that swept away concrete houses and heavy cars like plastic toys. Your grandma even recounted that the rain was so heavy, it sounded like someone was dumping bucketfuls of water on the roof (thank God she’s safe, as well as our other loved ones).

What is incomprehensible is that all this happened in a span of nine hours. I am not even going to bring in politics and the ill-preparedness of our farce of a government. That is already a glaring fact. But, one day, you will be the head of your own family, and though I continue to pray that you never see anything like this in your lifetime, I want to pass you on some pearls of motherly wisdom:

1. ALWAYS keep an emergency kit in your house. Include a reliable flashlight/emergency lights/candles/matches, spare batteries, sturdy ropes (in case you need to tie something, or need it to cross surging waters), basic medicine, canned food, bottled water, disinfectants, a heavy tool like a crowbar, and perhaps a list of important phone numbers stashed in a waterproof casing.
2. With reference to #2, periodically check your stash and make sure they are still in good working condition, and the perishables are not expired.
3. At the first hint of danger, quickly move to a safer location. Do not wait until it is too late. In the face of impending disaster, it is always better to err on the side of caution. And forget about your possessions, they are not worth your life: leave them if need be. You can always replace them, but lives lost can never be bought again.
4. In case you are caught (and I pray it never happens), do not panic because others will look to you for support. If you crumble, they will drown in their own fears, and that is not a good thing. Keep your presence of mind at all times.
5. No man is an island, as the old saying goes. Never be too proud to ask for help, nor be too up high on your own pedestal as to deny others your help. But, please, know your limits and DO NOT BE A HERO. As your grandpa once said (God rest his soul), the mistake of some rescue workers is that they try too hard at the wrong time, and instead of helping, they become part of the statistics.

It is during times like these that I keenly feel how much I love our country. The images leave me choking back tears and my heart bleeds for our fellow Filipinos. It feels so real to me, especially when I check my social networking sites and see my friends’ status updates, photos showing their firsthand experience of the event. And – perhaps more horrifying for me – there’s the silence of those who cannot even access their accounts because they are stuck on their roofs, praying for rescue.

For our part, your Daddy and I are thinking of scraping up whatever amount we can to donate to the victims of the typhoon. It isn’t much, as we also have to extend some assistance to our immediate family, but we believe that every effort counts.

I could choose to teach you to live simply and not care for designer clothes, fancy gadgets or spiffy cars. Instead, what I would like you to learn is, as you forge on with your life and build a comfortable nest for yourself and your future family, DO NOT FORGET TO BUILD YOUR CHARACTER. You are a man, after all, and I expect you to be a pillar of strength. And possessing a certain amount of material wealth means that you will be in a position to give help when time calls for it. Like I said, we all live under the same sun, and so you must always strive for humility, and for responsibility towards your fellowmen. Never imagine for one moment that you are above anyone else.

At the end of the day, I believe that the Filipino spirit will prevail and will see our nation through. But take the painful lessons that we have learned with you, and never forget them. Pass them on to your children someday, remind them how truly resilient their countrymen are. Remember, too, that we reap what we sow; take better care of our environment, as the price to pay usually comes with human lives.

As for you, my dear son, wherever life takes you, always be in touch with your motherland (and your mother, as well!), and say a silent prayer each night for her.

Be safe always. I love you.

Mommy

Pay It Forward

2009-06-02T14:53:00.005+08:00

Just a funny anecdote the other week courtesy of my precocious three-year-old.

I came home from work one evening and I was greeted by my boy enthusiastically even before I put my foot into the door. He told me about a particularly naughty boy he encountered in the playground earlier.

My son complained that the other boy pushed him around. In fact, he almost fell off the steps going to the slide, all because this boy was picking on him (who was, by the way, much bigger than my son). According to the grandma, my normally placid and tolerant toddler had one push too many. He turned around and, with arms akimbo, shouted at the other boy, at the top of his voice: "STOP PUSHING ME! YOU'RE A VERY, VERY BAD BOY!"

And - what do you know? - the little bully stopped and stayed away from my son.

After both my son and his grandma recounted the story, I told my baby that what he did was right. Though he should never pick a fight with others, neither should he be a pushover. He should learn to fight back, and what he did was a good thing.

My son paused for a while to consider my statement, then drew his own conclusion: "It's okay to fight back. You shouldn't fight forward, you just fight back!"

Epilogue: After that initial confrontation, my son and that other boy have since become playmates. I love the way children can completely forgive one another and move on with their lives.

photo from Getty Images

Weighing the Issue

2009-06-01T12:13:00.003+08:00

Forgive me for being a girl today.

I never had a problem with weight. Except during my pregnancy, I never went above 48 kilograms (about 105lbs), which I think is ideal for a petite frame of 5’1”. I guess I am one of those women whom others would say is blessed with good genes. Most notably during my adolescent to early adult years, I could eat like a horse and still get away with it. Today, I am a 33-year-old mother of one, and the weighing scale tells me I am around 43.6 kilograms (96lbs). Not bad, I suppose.

Yet vanity is making itself felt today. I feel that my mere mortal body is succumbing to the force known as gravity, and everything is headed south.

I look in the mirror this morning as I am dressing up for work, and I turn a critical eye on myself. I find myself a bit wider in some places, a little loose in some, a tad sagging in a few areas. *cue in the cuss words*

I know, I know. Don’t give me grief for the fact that I weigh less than a hundred pounds, and here I am complaining. But I know now that having low weight doesn’t necessarily mean you’re exempted from all that excess baggage.

Disclaimer: I am not blaming my pregnancy for this. It’s the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me, so far be it for me to point my fingers on it. It’s just that I realised, during that phase, my skin stretched out far more than it was ever used to (I gained 35lbs then). Now that I couldn’t shrink back to my original form, those blasted fat cells took the opportunity to fill in all those nooks and crannies, thus giving me all this flab (and grief). It doesn’t help that I read up a bit and was reminded that fat actually weighs less than muscles, and so I therefore conclude that while I may weigh less now, I still damn well look pudgier than usual.

This should probably be my cue to dust off my old sneakers and start running for fitness again.

Now the problem is, I find too many excuses NOT to exercise.

First of all, it’s too friggin’ boring. I have an issue with routines/repetitiveness, and if there’s one thing I frequently see on exercise manuals, it’s the word repeat. Can’t I just do it once and everything will magically transform thereafter?

Second, I get sick when I overexert myself. Don’t laugh at me…it’s true! I’m such a lazy-ass that any form of physical exertion leaves me feverish for three days! Ask my husband. Back when we were still dating, he casually invited me for a game of lawn tennis. I was a bit rusty since I haven’t played in a long time, but – what the heck – it’s great bonding, right? Wrong. I had a 39-degree fever and body aches for a few days and sent my then-boyfriend into near panic, and that’s when I remembered that childhood malady: during the first few days of PE class, I’d be absent because of fever. I thought I outgrew it, but turns out I didn’t. Think that’s an isolated case? The first time I was here in Singapore and walked too much, I developed a fever. Pity my poor, unused muscles.

And thirdly – and most importantly – I don’t have time. I wake up early to go to work, and I come home with just a few hours to catch up with my family’s day. How can I sacrifice quality time with them for such vain shenanigans, right?

My husband is trying his best to help me. Recently, I’ve been on the receiving end of small tokens from my always-generous husband: an mp3 player and a good pair of cross trainers. Bless this man, he really knows how to handle whiny little me! Instead of telling me bluntly to go out and do something about my “problem” (which will almost certainly be met by an absolute refusal), he is gently coaxing me to take my new playthings out for a spin, i.e., go jogging or something. I actually told him good-naturedly that I recognise the tactic, to which he replied that, had I known how to ride a bike, he would’ve bought me my own so we can cycle every weekend.

Sigh. I really should stop making excuses and run a few laps this weekend.

On the other hand, brisk-walking from one mall to the next is still a form of cardio, right?

many thanks to Getty Images for the royalty-free photos

Rants and raves on the last day of the year

2009-03-17T16:28:00.003+08:00

Well, at least the last day of my 32nd year.

There are two ways to approach this milestone. Since I like to save the best for last, maybe we’ll start with the glass-half-empty perspective.

Tomorrow is just another date on the calendar. I will find myself hitting the snooze button as my alarm goes off at 6:40am, and wonder why I even bother to set the alarm that early if I won’t get up, anyway. I’ll drag myself to work, pretend I’m busy for a while, then give up at precisely 6:25pm so I can be out the door by 6:30pm. I’ll zone off by around 11:00pm. And then it’s the same thing again the next day.

Tomorrow, I am reminded how much it sucks that, out of the 365 days in the year, the hubby’s boss decided that now would be a good time for him to visit Beijing. So I’ll be stuck in a place far away from the home I’ve always known, unable to visit my mom for my usual sumptuous birthday spread, and won't expect the deluge of siblings, nephews and nieces to wish me a happy birthday. A few cold ones with old friends will not even be a remote possibility. And I’ll surely be missing the flood of happy birthday text messages.

But if I look at the glass half-full…

Tomorrow is the first day of a brand new year in my life. I will find myself hitting the snooze button as my alarm goes off at 6:40am, then snuggle back into my warm pillow and enjoy the luxury of sleeping a bit longer. I’ll be thankful to have a job to go to in these tough times, accomplish what needs to be done, and be grateful to have some spare time to check my email. I’ll start packing up by 6:25pm so that by 6:30, I’ll be rushing home to my son’s delighted squeals, big hugs and warm kisses. I’ll start feeling deliciously languid by 11:00pm. And then I drift off to Lala Land to prepare for another wonderful day.

Tomorrow, I am reminded that, no matter where in the world he goes, I have a good husband 365 days every year. I can’t wait to see the presents he is sure to have picked up for my son and I as he goes around Beijing. I have a new home away from home, enjoying the quiet reverie for a change, where I can have some quality time with my mother, whom I will surely be speaking to over the phone as I drink my morning coffee. No cold ones with my friends, but, recently, I’ve had some quality smokes with representatives from each phase of my recent past: an old high school classmate (haven’t seen him in about 15 years), my college buddy (adopted her in between “Mraz-zing”), and a former colleague (also my son’s godfather – stayed in our spare room for two days…and soon, we will be neighbours!). As for the text messages, I probably wouldn’t miss it that much because Facebook will surely live up to my expectations.

And so, with that, I raise a glass that runneth over and give my Divine Writer a toast, for giving me a wonderful life, and for the gift of wisdom that helps me see things in the proper perspective.

Happy birthday to me :)

A Most Dreadful Gesture

2009-02-13T12:17:00.013+08:00

I was checking my Facebook account the other day when I came across a link posted by one of my contacts. It was about a wedding proposal. Out of curiosity (and maybe because, deep inside, there's a cheesy gal in there), I clicked the link and watched it.

There was nothing fancy-schmanzy about it. No romantic, candlelit dinner, no spectacular beaches at sunset. What actually made it special was the video the guy made to propose to his girl. It basically showed a cut-to-cut compilation of his smiling self, medium shots, with some road signs/establishment names behind him...such as the U-turn sign, the last two L's from "Shell", the McDonald's "M", stuff like that. All together, the signs spelled "Will U marry me". Plus points for the guy for his creativity and effort.

What ruined the moment for me was when I saw him kneeling in front of the girl, that classic pose while offering the engagement ring. Okay, I know I have a sappy streak, but for some reason, I find that gesture quite pretentious.

What does kneeling mean?

To kneel is to beg. So now a man has to beg a girl to marry him? How pathetic can you get? If you need to beg to get the girl you want, then there's something really wrong in the picture. Take off the rose-coloured glasses to get a better look at things.

It means devotion, true. But I only kneel in front of my Divine Writer. I am devoted to my mother but I never did that to her. Sure, I kneel in front of my cat, but only to pet her.

Kneeling connotes subservience. Remember the olden times when servants will kneel in front of their kings and queens? Hard core romantics may argue that it means they are willing to "serve their queens"...but how come they expect women to pick up their dirty socks and cook them dinner - can someone clarify who is supposed to serve whom again?

Humility? Maybe. But men are expected to "wear the pants" and be the "head of the family" in our patriarchal society. It has been ingrained in their earliest memories that they are the masters of the house. I don't think they'll give up the claim. So why waste the moment kneeling on the day you propose? They shouldn't promise a lifetime of humility when their basic, socially-conditioned, testosterone-driven nature goes against it.

I'm a deeply romantic woman. My husband knows how romantically creative I can be, and I have made him weep tears of joy on several occasions. But kneeling in front of a woman to propose marriage is not for me. At the risk of sounding like I'm sour-graping, I'm glad my husband did not propose to me as such.

In my humble, personal opinion, a marriage is a union of equals. Therefore, there should be no expectation of subservience. It should be give-and-take.

My husband and I once talked about this, and we agreed that we should never refer to the other as "my better half". We choose to call the other "my other half". We're "partners" in every sense of the word. Because we complete each other. Because one is not "better" than the other; instead, we make each other better. We complement each other's weaknesses as well as our strengths. And our life's decisions are never based on who gets to have the final say; rather, we arrive at a mutual agreement that we are both comfortable with, that we feel would be best for our family, and would not leave any resentment in the other's heart just because one of us needs to give way to a designated decision-maker.

So please stop kneeling. Unless you want to give a blowjob.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Thank you to Getty Images for the royalty-free photos

A True Story

2008-11-19T15:12:00.018+08:00

I'm a big fan of karaoke. And if you're like me, I'm guessing that you have a "trademark" song. You know, that one song you instinctively look for and warble even before your first bucket of beer arrives? Yeah, that's the one.

For some strange reason, my trademark song is "I've Never Been to Me" by Charlene. It's an old 80s song. It is the sad story of a woman of pleasure telling her tale to a downtrodden housewife...a jaded soul rolling in wealth and "fabulosity", yet longs for her one true love. It's a poignant story of loneliness amidst wordly pleasures and wealth.

"Hey lady, you lady
Cursing at your life
You're a discontented mother
And a regimented wife.
I've no doubt you dream about
The things you never do,
But I wish someone had talked to me
Like I wanna talk to you...

Oh, I've been to Nice
And the Isle of Greece
While I sipped champagned on a yacht.
I moved like Harlow in Monte Carlo
And showed them what I've got.
I've been undressed by kings
And I've seen some things
That a woman ain't s'posed to see.
I've been to paradise,
But I've never been to me."

No, it is not my story. But it reminds me of someone I know. Let's call her Margaux. And, yes, I changed her name to protect her identity.

Margaux was my childhood friend. Nothing really special about our friendship -- we sat next to each other in grade school, traded secrets, let her copy off my homework because she was too lazy to do hers. At an early age, she got into relationships, attended parties of all the popular kids, led the campus dance troupe and generally did all those "cool" and "hip" things that popular students in school get into. We sure had a strange way of defining "cool" and "hip" back then. But she was nice.

After our elementary years, Margaux transferred to another school. An institution known equally for women of substance and women who...well, women. Apparently, she did not fit into the first category. Because of proximity, and maybe because of the disparity of our interests and circles of friends, we drifted apart and lost touch. No big disaster for me, though, and I'm guessing she felt the same.

Fast forward to more than a decade hence. I was surprised to find a note in my inbox from her. A pleasant surprise, indeed. I eagerly replied and said hello, all the while praising cyberspace for opportunities such as this.

It was only a few hours later when I received her reply. The contents of her message surprised me. Not because I'm not used to hearing such stories, but because it's not really something you share with someone you haven't spoken to for the last 10 years or so. The words came pouring out of her like water from a broken dam during a storm. Niagara Falls, baby.

Margaux shared that she has several kids now. When she was still with Husband #1, she worked abroad and sent all her earnings to him. Margaux broke up with him after she went home to an empty bank account. Turns out he spent everything she earned on frivolous things. Jerk.

I was also surprised to find out that she worked for almost a year in this Asian country where money comes easy. There was a quick disclaimer that she "did nothing of that sort", but that she "earned easy money". I did not prod her any further, but of course, my imaginative mind tends to run away. Not that I want to think the worst about her, but it seems to be a logical conclusion.

She now has a second husband and has other kids with him. But they now live on a day-to-day existence because of mismanaged wealth. They lost all their properties and business due to excessive spending, drugs and gambling. According to Margaux, they now live off the money given to them by charitable family members, which isn't much.

It saddened me because I've always known Margaux to be a happy-go-lucky person. While not ridiculously wealthy, her family (birth parents) was well-off and she lived a comfortable life. She had a lot of opportunites, but she let them all get away from her because of her circumstances. And now, while putting up a brave front, she is living a life of regret and bitterness.

She hardly talked about her husband. She only mentioned him twice: once, to say that he drank everyday, and the second time, to say that he lost everything to drugs and gambling. But he is, after all, still her husband, and they are together "for richer and for poorer".

The good thing about her is that she owns up to the fact that some of them are her mistakes.

So what do you say to someone like her? I just gave her a lot of encouraging words and said that she can always rebuild her life. It takes a lot of work, but it is not impossible.

Margaux and I are still in touch. Once in a while, she shares happy moments with her kids. I am happy because they represent hope for her...five good reasons to live and keep fighting. She's bitter about the little things she can't give her kids, such as a decent bed and the many comforts she enjoyed as a child, but I told her that all the material things in the world can never replace a mother's love.

Poverty is relative. In my eyes, they are not impoverished. They may lack a few luxuries, but they are together as a family. Sure, they all share one cramped bedroom and sleep on the floor, but they have a roof over their heads. They cannot afford designer labels anymore, but they have decent clothing. They may not eat out as often as they used to, but who says they have to, as long as they have three square meals everyday?

I pray that life will be kinder to Margaux. And I hope she also comes to realize the most important thing she has in her hands:

"Hey, you know what paradise is?
It's a lie.
A fantasy created by people
And places as we'd like them to be.
But you know what truth is?
It's that little baby you're holding,
And it's that man you fought with this morning.
The same one you're going to make love with tonight.
That's truth.
That's love."

Being Effie White

2008-11-04T17:03:00.006+08:00

It's a shame to admit it, but I've only seen "Dreamgirls" today.

I'm not a huge fan of musicals. I don't hate them, but I don't like them that much, either. They don't exactly land on my priority list when I decide what movies to watch. Case in point: I have not seen a single installment in the "High School Musical" series. So sue me.

I have to admit that the recent tragedy in Jennifer Hudson's life was what lured me to watch "Dreamgirls". Does it sound too morbid? Not to me. I figured, hey, I keep seeing this girl on the news these days, I've seen her perform and be eliminated on "American Idol" (which, by the way, I still feel is an injustice) and I watched her accept her Oscar for this flick, so why not watch the movie?

Happily, I was not disappointed. Jennifer Hudson's big voice is already a given, but she breathed so much life into Effie White. Her character is fascinating.

We've all been an Effie White at some point in our lives.

In my case, when I look back on my past, I can recall those times when people took credit for what was the product of my hard work. Oh, I had lots of those. I remember moments when I've felt betrayed. They took the form and shape of "friends", co-workers, lovers, even family members. I also think I did my share of standing up to those who would love to see me fail, to lock horns and fight for my principles in the face of overwhelming bias and personal discrimination.

And even when you've faced several heartaches and heartbreaks, it doesn't make it any easier to deal with them. It still feels as shitty as the first time.

It's hard not to pity yourself during those moments. But, like Effie, it's up to us whether we choose to languish in the mire of depression, or use our big voices to be heard.

And WIN.

What was your Effie White moment?

The Facebook Phenomenon

2008-10-23T14:06:00.005+08:00

A few years ago, Friendster was the coolest thing to ever hit cyberspace. It would have to be the biggest breakthrough in social networking (at least, in my unprofessional opinion).

Currently, though, it's competing neck-to-neck with many other service providers, such as Multiply, MySpace and Hi5, to name a few. Friendster may not be enjoying monopoly anymore, but I guess they could say that they have the singular honor of starting the snowball of social networks.

Enter Facebook.

My account is actually a few years old. I got a lot of invitations from FB buddies, along with the flood of others such as WAYN, Tagged, Hi5, LinkedIn, Multiply, etc. Truthfully, I opened some accounts just to get rid of the very persistent invites that some have been sending (read: to shut them up, hehehe). So my Facebook account was actually born out of that.

Up until recently, the only social networking tool that I've been faithfully updating was my Multiply account. My Friendster is, well, just there. I log in once in a while when there are message alerts, and sometimes to see my friends' new photos, but other than that, it's pretty dormant. I'm no longer interested to accumulate more friends there.

Ah, but Facebook is so different.

In the few weeks since I've resuscitated my account, I've made contact with former colleagues, old friends, long-lost buddies, classmates from primary school, even family members I had no idea existed (and who probably didn't know about me, either!). It also allowed me an opportunity to gain closure on an issue that I had long since buried and tried to forget about.

Now that I've got so much spare time in my hands, I'm quite surprised about the little discoveries I've been making. And I get dumbstruck when I think of how relevant those discoveries are to my life. Even a seemingly inane invite on Facebook now has a reason.

That's probably God super-poking me :)

On Patience

2008-10-21T14:29:00.009+08:00

"Patience is a virtue."

"Good things come to those who wait."

"For everything, there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven."

These all pertain to that wonderful virtue that I wish I had more of. And in my Divine Writer's eternal wisdom, He thought that now would be a good time for me to grow some.

It's not easy for someone like me. At the risk of sounding like a spoiled brat (which my mother and husband both "lovingly" insist that I am), I'm used to getting my way. Immediately. Whether by coercion or sweet manipulation. I guess that is one of the downsides of being the youngest in the brood. Everybody pampers you and so you expect the whole world to lie at your feet. And you develop a sort of Machiavellian attitude towards life.

I'd like to think that, while my life isn't exactly charmed, I have been very privileged. But now that things aren't going according to my expectations, I vascillate between frustration and anger one day, and depression and self-pity the next. It's not a pretty picture.

But when you find nothing but blank walls, you recognize signs that you would normally miss during your humdrum march in life. And in the overwhelming silence, you learn to listen to your heart.

Whereas before I could only see a closed door, I now see the windows opening.

I marvel at my Divine Writer's sense of humor. I could never be half as witty as He is. He certainly deserves an Emmy.

Warding Off Forwarded Emails

2008-10-17T15:24:00.005+08:00

Is there a nice way of doing this to your email contacts?

As the world today becomes increasingly dependent on technology, one of the pitfalls is the inevitable abuse of such mechanisms. A few months or years ago, this took the form of SMS. At the time, it was a free service. People kept forwarding useless messages to other mobile phone subscribers...and so now we paid the price when telcos decided each SMS should be charged accordingly. That step drastically curbed keypad-happy texters to become more prudent in their SMS activities, but of course, certain promos such as "unlitxt" still satisfies their compulsive texting needs.

And now the most logical alternative to SMS-ing would be emailing. It's free, and it's now very accessible to every Tom, Dick and Harry. Or Jane, Mary and Sally.

Don't you hate it when people send you messages with this subject: "Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: Chain letter...don't break it unless you want to die!!!!!!!" How utterly childish and nonsensical! I may sound like an old prude but I really hate it.

Come on, do we seriously believe that committing a "sin of omission" (such as deliberately not forwarding chain letters) would really be enough cause for us to keel over and die? I may be a non-practising Christian, but, hey, I have a high opinion of God. He's not gonna strike me dead just because I refuse to forward a useless message, which, for all I know, contains a Trojan virus or a worm that could do some effing damage to my friends' motherboards or files.

I will not play hypocrite and say that I've never done this before. Like I said, it's a pitfall. I did that in the past, but I guess I matured and thought that I might possibly be pissing off my email contacts!

From time to time, I have to be honest that I forward email messages on occasion. But that's when I really think the contents are worth sharing. Otherwise, I don't even bother reading them. I've actually identified a few of my email contacts as "spammers" and automatically delete their forwarded messages.

And FYI, sending forwarded messages doesn't exactly fall under "keeping in touch". If you ask me, I would rather receive a short "hi, just dropping by to say good morning" or something like that, rather than get slews of crappy "Fwd: fwd: fwd".

So there. If you're really my friend, please, you MUST know me better. Don't wait for me to tell it to you straight, and then run back crying for your mommy when your feelings are hurt. Choose the things you share.

Or better yet, GROW UP.

Tagged by Dementia: 5 factoids you may not know about me blogtag game

2008-10-13T13:19:00.008+08:00

I've actually been tagged before but I never got around doing it. Today, I got tagged by my good friend Dementia, and so, what with all the free time I have on my hands, now may be a good time to pass on some factoids about moi:

1. I like eating hotdogs fried in butter and sprinkled with sugar. It's good, really. You should try it sometime (given that you have a sweet tooth, of course). The trick is to cook the hotdogs till they're almost done, then sprinkle the sugar just until you're about to take them out of the pan. That'll give it a sweet, slightly caramelized shell. Yum. (note: for some reason, this only works with regular Purefoods TJ hotdogs).

2. Most of my friends know that I went to a Catholic school for my primary and secondary education. What people don't know is the first question I asked when I took up Religion as a subject. I was about 5 years old, we were having a conversation over dinner, and my contribution was: "Mama, why is Mama Mary called "Virgin Mary"? What is a virgin?" Needless to say, dinner ended quite early that day.

3. I almost did not make it into this world. My mom didn't know I was there until about five months into her pregnancy. Then her doctor suggested an abortion because the risks were too high; she just had two major kidney operations and had an artificial ureter. There was a possibility that we would both die. My mom refused and signed a waiver, to absolve that Makati hospital from whatever responsibilities. Funny how they (hospital) never thought about their moral obligations. And now I'm here...wreaking havoc, hahaha.

4. I sniff each and every article of freshly laundered clothing, just before I fold them. (Don't give me that look...I will not wear them unless they smell like fabric conditioner)

5. I used to be a lefty but my parents "corrected" it and now I'm a righty. However, it is still apparent, in that I use my left hand for things that require force (such as opening a bottle of soda). It also shows in my target shooting, as I am cross-dominant (I hold the gun in my right hand but look at the target with my left eye).

So there are my factoids. And here are the rules of the game, copy-pasted from Dementia:

1) Once you are tagged, you have to give 5 factoids about yourself that other people may not know about you.

2) You have to acknowledge who tagged you by putting the name, alias or blogsite of the tagger on the subject of your blog, together with the title of the blog game. To illustrate, your title should appear like so..."tagged by iluzionada: 5 factoids you may not know about me blogtag game"

3) You have to enumerate 5 factoids about you that people may not know. These could either be personal stuff, embarrasing moments in your life, weird habits, a funny pet name and so on and so forth.

4) You have to tag three other bloggers to do the same. To do this, you have to call them out in your blog and make sure they get the message by however means necessary. (Suggest that you comment in their blogsite, or send them a text or email. Show them your blog and hope that they keep this rolling.)

5) Once a blogger has been tagged, then he or she can no longer be tagged again.

And now, the responsibility to keep this game going falls on these three friends:

http://teopaco.multiply.com
http://purplewalrus.multiply.com
http://19sodashop.multiply.com

A Bright Morning

2008-09-28T11:41:00.003+08:00

Since childhood, I had been the type to hide my real emotions. Call it a defense mechanism, but I've programmed myself to respond apathetically to things that would normally reduce us to a pile of jittery nerves. In fact, I have received many a compliment on being cool in the face of tremendous pressure.

I was probably a bit more upset with the changes than I have let on. I'm guessing my Divine Writer played a little trick on me to force me to face my issues. He uprooted me and took me away from all the things and people I had clung to for security. He left me all by myself. He literally put me in front of four white walls, and made me listen to my heart.

I was shaken. But I never resented Him for it. In fact, I woke up this morning feeling better.

He was wise enough to rouse me awake, to leave me alone to confront my fears, yet He threw in a lifeline or two. I was able to talk to my husband. And strangely, He showed me that one of the people whom I thought could never be a real friend offered her support.

He really moves in mysterious ways. I have been purged of many of my uncertainties and now have a fresher outlook. I was taught to trust completely and nothing can ever go wrong.

He just gave me my first speaking line on my Script: Let go and let God.

And what a beautiful line it is!

Forging On

2008-09-27T10:40:00.003+08:00

I noticed that I have become increasingly fatalistic as days pass.

People close to me know that I am not exactly religious. Quite an irony, especially since I was educated for most of my life in a Catholic school, and that my father's side of the family tree had their share of nuns and priests. Be that as it may, it doesn't mean that I am a non-believer. I think that I am in touch with my spiritual side, and I do treasure my personal relationship with my Divine Writer.

A lot of changes are happening on the family front. Things happened at a dizzying speed. We were totally unprepared, but strangely, the events seem to fall into place with precision. I am a firm believer that things are preordained, and this is no exception.

From my end, I face a lot of uncertainties. I have a lot of fears. I try my best to follow what I feel is the path my Divine Writer scripted out for me, but I am human enough to admit that I do feel lost sometimes. I do not understand some of the things that are happening now. I know, however, that I just have to keep my faith and trust that all things will be for the best.

After all, we were all promised that His plans were made to prosper us and never to harm us.

And so life goes on...

Coming Home

2008-09-18T12:18:00.004+08:00

Tonight, my husband returns from a week-long business trip to Amsterdam. It will be his first time to be home after two long months.

Yes, you read that right. The business trip is just for one week. And he hasn't been home in two months.

Confusing? Okay, I'll explain.

My husband is an expat. He was recently hired by a Singapore employer to join them as a Demo Artist. The weird thing about that is he never applied for the job, nor did we ever plan to relocate to another country. The details would need a separate blog entry to be able to do justice to the beauty of the story, but that's the gist, more or less.

He found himself shuttling back and forth between Manila and Singapore since March this year, for interviews, exhibits, more interviews, and finally the employment confirmation. By the end of July, he found himself in the Lion City, quite alone.

It was a blessing that he was occupied with a number of out-of-the-country trips during his first month. Barely two weeks after he arrived, he and his team went to Malaysia for some training. A week after that, he found himself in Mumbai, India for still more training.

I would keep close tabs on him the entire time he was away -- especially if he was outside Singapore. We probably spent a small fortune on call cards, considering that he wasn't always online. He complained at one point that the return trips always felt empty. He knew he was supposed to be "coming home"...but to what? A foreign land. A hotel room, maybe. Or a flat shared with people he didn't know from Adam.

The places he stayed in held an almost clinical quality about them. It was a halfway house. It was somewhere he could put his things in while he was at work. It was a place where he could catch a few zzzz's, but ironically, would not make him feel refreshed or recharged at all.

The last week of August found me on a Singapore-bound plane. I finally gave in to my husband's increasingly urgent requests to be with him. He said that he found a flat for our family, at last, after weeks of poring over the internet and countless viewing schedules. But he would need my domestic engineering abilities to make it more liveable.

And so I went.

A few days ago, we were chatting online...I, in Singapore, and he, in Amsterdam. He said that this was the first time he felt excited about his return trip. Now, he felt certain that he is, indeed, coming home.

Interestingly enough, I found a beautiful caption in one of my Facebook friend's profiles. He went with his wife to Amsterdam on a pleasure trip, and in one of their photos in that faraway place, he said: "Travel with your soulmate and you'll never miss home."

To a certain degree, that's true. However, if he may allow, I will paraphrase his statement to fit my situation: "Be with your soulmate, and you will ALWAYS be home."

Welcome home, honey.

Another Miracle

2007-06-04T20:22:00.000+08:00

Last June 1, my best friend gave birth to her baby boy via c-section. The little baby was born at 35 weeks -- 2 weeks shy of being a full-term baby. Although, for a preemie, he was remarkably well...he weighed at 5lbs 5 oz, so that's not bad.

It really is a miracle for them (my friend and her husband) because they have problems conceiving. They have this rare condition where their genes are too much alike, so the mother's system, instead of nurturing the baby, rejects it. But given the odds, the Lord still found a way to bring the tiny being out into the world. Truly a miracle.

My husband and I visited them a day after. We were looking at the baby at the huggery, and we were amazed at how tiny he was. We were transported about a year back, when the tables were turned and it was I who just gave birth. It's funny because at about the same time last year, my best friend and her hubby were our visitors...looking at our tiny miracle from through the window. How fast time flies.

When we came home, I took my little angel into my arms and marveled at how big he has become after only a year. I found myself showering him with hundreds of kisses...with the thought that in several years' time, he would probably be too embarrassed to be kissed in front of his friends by Mommy. Sigh.

At least, for the time being, my friend and I can both enjoy our little miracles as long as they would allow us. And I guess that, deep in our hearts, they will always be that tiny baby that we cradled in our arms when He decided to bless our homes with their shining presence.

Breakthrough Moment

2007-04-02T19:41:00.001+08:00

I just had a breakthrough while I was walking to my husband's office a while back.

I realized why I'm having problems with my current job. It's because I have to adapt to an existing system. In my previous jobs, I always had the leisure of doing things my way. I always started from scratch. But now, I have to pick up where others left off.

I guess this is where I will have to learn -- and unlearn -- some things.

It's also timely that I found a document a few days ago, near the photocopier in the office. Maybe my guardian angel placed it in my line of sight, just to offer me comfort and support:

"10 Tips on How to Succeed from Failure:

* Failure doesn't mean you are a failure...It does mean you haven't succeeded yet.
* Failure doesn't mean you have accomplished nothing...It does mean you have learned something.
* Failure doesn't mean you have been a fool...It does mean that you had a lot of faith.
* Failure doesn't mean you've been disgraced...It does mean you were willing to try.
* Failure doesn't mean you don't have it...It does mean you have to do something in a different way.
* Failure doesn't mean you are inferior...It does mean you are not perfect.
* Failure doesn't mean you've wasted your life...It does mean you have a reason to start afresh.
* Failure doesn't mean you should give up...It does mean you must try harder.
* Failure doesn't mean you'll never make it...It does mean it will take a little longer.
* Failure doesn't mean God has abandoned you...It does mean God has a better idea!

God looks at you and sees a beautiful person waiting to be born! If you could see in a vision the man God meant you
to be, never again could you be quiet...
You are God's idea and God only dreams up beautiful ideas. He is expecting great things from you. Cooperate! Believe
in yourself, now, and draw the possibilities out of your being."

Sound inspiring, doesn't it? I'm trying to keep a positive attitude. I still have my moments when I feel lost half the time, when I feel like I'm committing a lot of booboos, and when I feel that the people around me swear I'm just plain stupid. But I guess I just have to keep rereading what I've written above, and prove that I can hurdle this.

It also helps, that, going back to my mobile phone's inbox, there are so many messages of support from people I hold dear in my heart...such as my good friends, my husband, and my mother. They absolutely believe in me. Sometimes, when I read their messages, I wonder why I have lost faith in myself, when all they can see is how fully-equipped I am to face up to the challenges.

Of course, when all else fails, I could always looks for a new job. But can I ever rest, knowing that I backed down?

It just takes a little more work than I anticipated, but -- for the moment -- it looks like I can lick this helluva job.

Talking Myself into It

2007-03-28T06:42:00.000+08:00

I'm facing times of self-doubt. When I feel that the tasks I have on hand seem to be bigger than me. I feel on the verge of failure and it's scaring the hell out of me.

I've always been confident in work. This time, though, it feels different.

Why am I here? Why did He put me in this position? I am searching for reasons but the answers have yet to be revealed to me.

For the moment, I just look to my son for inspiration. To give me the drive to surmount the obstacles. Because at this point in time, I really have no choice but to swallow my fears, not to give in to despair and frustration, and to tell myself that I have to succeed no matter what.

I can do this. I can do this. I really, really can do this.

For my son.

1st Day After the 31st

2007-03-19T20:39:00.003+08:00

It's my first day of work after my 31st birthday.

Today, I started my post in my new company. It's a bit of an adjustment for me, coming in my corporate duds, waking up really early to make it at 8:30am, having no internet connection of my own. Sigh. It's like shoving into my face just how good I had it with my previous company. I'm going to miss it, for sure (the company and its perks).

Honestly, I felt a little intimidated with the amount of work looming over me. All of a sudden, I wasn't so sure whether I was cut out for it. Like maybe I bit off more than I could chew. It didn't help matters, either, that, not only will I be replacing the old manager within two weeks time...I'll also be losing her assistant, who so happens to be resigning by the end of the month, too. Great, just what I need, the workload of two people combined.

Pain, pain, pain...

But if I decide to look at the glass half-full, at least I know that it will be a challenging job. It's definitely miles apart from my usual humdrum life at my former office, where I just surf the internet the entire day, my life punctuated by the papers I have to sign or the memos I have to compose.

My new job also cemented what I, once upon a time, told my husband about his career path. He was complaining that he had so many seemingly unrelated jobs, and that if he knew he'd be landing in the industry, he shouldn't have spent so much time with his other stints. I told him that it wasn't true. See, he was a computer teacher for kids, a musician, a factory worker, a cutting-edge IT employee, among other things. I said, look at where you put all these things to use now. His patience with clients is infinite (owing to his teaching experience with kids), he definitely has rhythm in his edits (courtesy of his rockstar past), he's not afraid of dirty work (imagine he used to clean up factory dregs in the noonday heat), plus he's more computer-savvy than most other technicians in our former network (that's the IT part playing).

Everything adds up. God's plan is just plain foolproof.

So now, I am left doing the same internal debate with myself. Am I throwing away my 10 good years in the business? Did I just become a corporate sell-out?

Maybe. Or maybe not.

Or am I just talking myself into staying on?

Hmmm...is 31 too early for a mid-life crisis?

Heartbreaks

2007-03-05T15:30:00.000+08:00

I've had a lot of heartbreaks over the last couple of weeks.

But they're not the heartbreaks I am accustomed to.

First, I unexpectedly found myself jobless. It broke my heart that the post I have held for the last three years of my life is gone. And what makes it even more depressing was that the post was dissolved, not on account of any misdemeanors on my part, but because my company is facing rocky times ahead. And this is a company I have grown to love. I even dared to dream that I had a long future in it.

I also found out that I have lost the heart of a freelancer. When I went back to the "real world", I simply felt that it is not my world anymore. I did not have the heart to face up to the competition again, not because I lost my guts, but because I had lost my heart to my new family. I did not want the cut-throat, dog-eats-dog sphere anymore. I wanted to go back to my comfortable cubbyhole that swarmed with friends who sincerely, honestly want to know how your day was. To the people who I spend majority of my time and efforts with. To the men and women who have become a part of my life. To those who stand as my son's second parents.

But, recently, I also realized that it is also during these trying times that, indeed, you discover who your real friends are.

And it made my heart break all over again when I found out who were my REAL friends and who were just passersby in my life.

Not because I did not want to keep those who have proven themselves real to me; far from it, I am very thankful for them.

It was because I sincerely expected everyone to be real. And therein lies the mistake.

When will my heart stop breaking?

A New Milestone

2006-11-09T19:33:00.000+08:00

Another milestone has been added to my son's "resume": he's just been baptized last November 5...he's now officially a member of the Roman Catholic flock.

The baptism was held at Christ the King Parish, and the reception at Gerry's Grill. There was a pretty good turn-out in terms of attendance; most of the sponsors and other expected guests arrived, although there were a handful of no-shows. Some had work that day; most others were sick (I don't know what's wrong with the atmosphere now, there are so many sick people...in fact, my son just recently bounced back from a nasty cold).

My son's recuperation came just in time for the occasion...he was in such high spirits that day, as if he instinctively felt that it was a big day for him. He gamely went with anyone and everyone who wanted to carry him or play with him. In fact, he only took one short nap (around 30 minutes long), presumably just to recharge. After that, it was playtime all over again! And his photo ops, he's such a charmer for the camera...his sponsors were telling me how my son visibly loves the lens, he just looks directly into it and lets his adorable self shine through. That's my boy!

Speaking of photos, my only regret was that I forgot to take pictures of all the sponsors in front of the altar! Neither did we take pictures with our respective families! For someone as obssessive-compulsive as I am, that's just a disaster! So now, I just have a handful of photographs to speak of and to put in my albums. Sigh. But my husband just comforted me by saying that the most important thing is that he got baptized...small comfort for me, but bless his soul for knowing when to say the right thing...

It was a wonderful day for our family, we really enjoyed it. The ceremony went well, the food was great, my son was so well-behaved and sooooo charming...despite the lack of photographs to document it, I would like to think that the day was a major success!

Now my son is enjoying the beautiful gifts he received from his sponsors. He has a gazillion toys to be busy with right now, and he even has a high chair (something we've thought of getting, thank goodness we didn't get one yet; at least, we can spend the money on other things he needs).

So now that we got that over with, we're getting ready for his next big milestone: his first-ever Christmas =)

Health Issues

2006-10-27T18:13:00.001+08:00

My baby's sick =(

Nothing serious, really, just slight colds and cough according to the pediatrician. But of course it's still a sorry sight to see the little angel give out those coughs and sneezes...the bright side to that is he's such a brave boy, he's still smiling and happy despite the illness. And to think that it's only a couple of days before his baptism, sigh, poor baby.

He's got a new pediatrician, too. It's good that we found one just a block away from the house, a doctor who holds clinic 5 times a week in the afternoons. I just got fed up with his old pediatrician, who's only available like thrice a week for two hours per day -- and who never comes on time either! I got so mad yesterday because it's my baby's first time to be sick, and it's a sorry coincidence that she chose that day to get sick, too.

Okay, okay, I know doctors fall victim to ailments, too...but who can blame a first-time mommy like me for overreacting? So now I'm in the process of debating whether I should continue seeing the old pediatrician to continue with my son's immunization, at the very least, or to completely switch allegiance and see this new doctor whom I've never seen, but whom ironically I trust more than the old one. Mother's instinct? Maybe...

This new doctor found something of concern in my baby. Generally, my son's very, very healthy; in fact, she got surprised when she found out that this was his first bout with the cold. But she found a bilateral hydrocele in his balls. I researched this over the net and found it to be a normal condition among baby boys, and that it should resolve itself before he blows out his first birthday candle.

I'm praying that it DOES resolve itself, I don't want my perfect little baby to suffer any medical conditions at this early age...

A Whole New World

2006-10-19T17:35:00.002+08:00

A whole new world was just opened to my son last Monday...he's just had his first taste of solid food!

Of course, if you look at his food, one really wonders what there is to be rejoicing about...after all, it's just watery rice cereal that tastes like...well, watery cereal. But looking at his expression after taking his first spoonful, he might as well have been eating creme brulee -- he was just so ecstatic!

He's now on his fourth day of solids, so I gave him a treat and let him try some squash. What's nice about my son, I'm discovering, is that he's not afraid to try new food. I've read a lot of times in several write-ups that mommies have to brace themselves to the reality that most kids don't like new food. They further said that this is especially normal in babies who are just beginning to eat. So here I am, prepared for my son to spit up his first few bites and for his little tummy to start acting up on the new things that are making their way in...luckily, our experience was the exact opposite.

My son couldn't have been any more angelic than in those moments when I was offering him spoonfuls of baby food! What's more, his tummy didn't have any adverse reactions to the newly-introduced food. I'm just praying that my son (and his tiny tummy) will continue on with the good behavior.

So now I'm thinking of all the exciting things to feed his growing appetite: apples, pears, bananas, peas, sweet potatoes, carrots, chicken...I don't know who's more excited, me or my son!

This morning, after I've fed him his squash and was watching him take a bath in his tub (another thing he truly enjoys), I was left in awe of his ability to find the most intense pleasure in the simplest things: the splash of the water on his tiny fingers, the texture of the baby food on his little mouth, the funny sound from his rubber duckie...things like that. It's just wonderful to be in touch with another human being with emotions so pure, so eager, so open, that it makes me think...it's not just my son who's experiencing a whole new world right now.

He just opened an entire horizon for me.

Eating Plans

2006-10-13T18:47:00.000+08:00

Recently, my husband was diagnosed as having a gall bladder stone, among other things. In his blood chemistry, it was also revealed to us that he has high cholesterol, high uric acid levels, elevated bilirubin count, etc. The only thing that's low in his blood is the good cholesterol, how's that?

Sure, it sounds like a lot of bad news for us; in fact, we were left staring off into space and half-listening to the doctor's litanies. We consulted several other doctors, including a cardiologist and a nutritionist, to help my hubby shape up.

The original doctor we consulted -- a surgeon -- did not give us a lot of hope. Predictably, he advised immediate surgery (what else would he be good for if he did not have any patients to open up, right?). Particularly, it was laparoscopic surgery he was gunning for, a type of microsurgery that would cost us an arm and a leg -- not to mention my husband's gallbladder.

We did a lot of research, and right now, though we are preparing ourselves for the eventuality of surgery, his gallbladder is behaving rather well. Maybe it's too attached to my husband and doesn't want to be removed anytime soon?

The learning curve comes in when it comes to my husband's meals. Dear Lord, I never realized that planning for meals was so stressful! Ever since we lived together, I had an idea that, per se, plotting out food everyday is really hard. But add to that his dietary restrictions -- low-fat, low-carbohydrate and low-purine -- Jesus, he might as well eat paper.

So now, I'm obssessed with websites that will offer us alternatives to his daily fare of pasta in garlic, olive oil and sun-dried tomatoes.

I'm just hoping that my husband's condition will improve, and that surgery will not really be required. I'm just not comfortable with the thought of him losing an organ, no matter how many doctors and specialists claim that it serves no real, life-altering purpose...the irritating thing is that, how come nobody knows one's gallbladder exists until the day it starts to complain and you have to lose it?!?!?

And the irony to the situation is that, just as my husband's cutting off on his food, my son is about to start on solids. Oh well, at least that's something to look forward to.

Just realized, though, that that would also mean more meal planning. Oh great.

Stressed Out

2006-09-27T15:58:00.000+08:00

I hate seat plans. And I hate it even more when everybody wants to sit on the "good seats". Supposing I only had 30 "good seats", and, like 150 people want to be on all those "good seats"...and all these 150 people just happen to be your boss from somewhere in the corporate ladder.

Would they consider sitting on someone else's lap in the "good seats" area, just so we wouldn't be accused of giving them less importance than some other boss? If that would be the case, then I can imagine about 5 people occupying the same seats at the same time.

I'm not making a lot of sense here...neither are they.

Fragile

2006-08-31T18:32:00.001+08:00

A couple of weeks back, three of our colleagues here at the network perished in a tragic accident, in the line of duty.

I don't want to discuss the details anymore because the facts have been discussed to death -- no pun intended -- and they bring back details too graphic for my own sanity (I've seen some pictures that I knew I should never have looked at...I want to hit my head for letting curiosity get the better of me...). What I want to discuss are the emotions stirred in all of us because of that event.

The sudden demise of someone, even if you barely know them, always comes as a shock. It gives one a sudden feeling of vulnerability, a kind of mortality that one doesn't normally pay attention to. The tragedy left us all thinking, "It could have been me." Morbid, I know, but, suddenly, we do not feel so invincible.

It also touched new and barely explored emotions in me, particularly those with relation to my new state of motherhood. In one mass I attended, where the deceased's respective families were present, my eyes were glued to the one-year-old daughter of the reporter. The irony of her situation -- her innocent laughter and coos echoing amidst the silence of tears and inexpressible grief -- certainly brought tears to my eyes. The eulogy of some of our colleagues did nothing to dry my eyes any...one of them recounted that, the moment he found out what happened, the first thing he did was to embrace his son tightly and think, I'm lucky to still be able to do that.

One of the worst fears of a parent, I have learned, is the possibility of leaving behind their children too soon. Or just simply leaving their children, period. At that moment, I thought, what if I left my son too soon? Who would take care of him? Who would provide for him? Would anybody be able to love him as much as I do? So many unspoken fears that I hope I never face, but I know that, at one point, I would have to come to terms with them, anyway.

I don't want to dwell on negative thoughts. Instead, I say a silent prayer of thanks each time I wake up and am able to lovingly kiss my son, to enjoy his playful laughter.

I realized all the more how fragile life is.

Mommies in the House

2006-08-03T14:26:00.001+08:00

I’ve just had some pleasant mommy chit-chat with some of my officemates. There’s sort of a baby boom here…a few months after I got pregnant, about three other officemates of mine suddenly confirmed their interesting conditions…! Hmm, I’d like to think that I’m sort of a trendsetter here…

It’s surprising how obsessed one can become with pregnancy and motherhood (well, assuming, of course, that you’re happy conceiving your little bundle of joy). We’d affably compare our experiences: the pregnant mommies would ask me what I went through when I was at the same stage as theirs, while those who have older kids would tell me about their experiences as new moms, as well as the things I should look forward to when my baby grows up.

And even as it’s now three months since I gave birth, I would still greedily sift through webpage after webpage on write-ups about pregnancy and parenting. I just couldn’t get enough information crammed in! The result…? I’m now scared to death that my little one could get SBS (I told the entire household to NEVER EVER shake the baby)…or he could be a victim of SIDS (I now obsessively remove any and all pillows around him when he sleeps, and I make sure he sleeps on his back. I’m also close to being an insomniac, just watching over him.)…I’m also wondering in retrospect whether he had acid reflux when he was two weeks old (he used to vomit out his milk in projectile, poor thing)…sigh…so many new fears are awakened in my highly-impressionable mommy brain!

But it’s not to say that I’m living in constant fear. In fact, I live for those moments when my son would surprise me with another one of his milestones. Yesterday, my mother-in-law showed me how he could now roll on his belly all by his little self. When he was about two months old, he showed the capacity to roll over, except that he couldn’t get his arm out from underneath his body…well, yesterday was a different story altogether, he could do it by himself now! My little boy is also becoming increasingly boisterous, enjoying all his toys and would only nap when he’s really, really worn out. Today, they showed me how he loved to sit up propped against the sofa (have some pictures and videos taken, to boot!). We also found out today that he now likes to sit up in his tub when he’s taking a bath, instead of lying down on the bath supporter. He’s growing up so fast!

I’m sure that, like most mothers, I tend to think that my baby is the smartest, most gifted little creature that was ever born this side of the planet. It’s simply amazing how many new things he can learn in the space of a few days. So now, I become increasingly agitated the longer I spend time at the office – it could only mean that I’m missing out on so many new feats!

But I’m glad that my little son is a lot more forgiving towards me than I am to myself. I’m elated that he always has a ready smile for me whenever he’s awake. He also coos delightedly at me whenever I speak to him, as if eagerly telling me about his entire day, happily sharing with me the little things that I’d missed.

I love my son beyond words. I love having a family. I love being a mom!

Counting my Blessings

2006-07-29T21:02:00.000+08:00

My husband isn’t coming home tonight. Neither did he a couple of days ago. And many other nights, too…countless nights.

Nope, he does not have a mistress. He’s no alcoholic. He doesn’t spend his hours gambling. He definitely is not into illegal substances.

On the contrary, he is being a good husband and father.

I’m thankful that I have found someone like my husband – hardworking beyond belief, a good provider, very passionate about his profession, and someone who is willing to meet halfway but will never compromise the quality of his work. It is also a great source of pride for me that, among the many people in our network, our bosses entrust the most critical projects to him. He has proven his worth: many times over, he has taken over and “saved” some projects that have almost become disasters (for one reason or another). I can safely say that he is definitely an asset to the company.

This weekend is especially busy for him. Imagine, he has to edit three shows: 1) the final episode of a 10-year running gag show, 2) the pilot episode of the gag show replacing the previous one, and 3) the pilot episode of our network’s biggest and most ambitious project ever. He’s spent many sleepless nights this week. I know he must be exhausted.

As I write this, he is currently at the office editing his shows for airing tomorrow. I miss him terribly. Sure, we’re together constantly, as we go to and from work together all the time, lunch breaks and other mealtimes spent together…but when we’re at the office, we’re so wrapped up in each other’s businesses that we hardly even chat. Now, we even missed our weekend.

No, I’m not complaining. Like I said, it’s just that I miss him so badly. I miss sleeping beside him. Loud snorer as he is, the warmth of his skin comforts me as I drift off to Lala Land. I miss those half-awake moments when I’d find the crook of his arm and snuggle into it.

Well, at least I know that his hours spent away from me and our son translates into being a responsible husband and father. There are so many women out there whose husbands don’t come home to them; but, unlike me, they have entirely different reasons. Check the second paragraph, most of them must be having those problems.

Thankfully, I don’t share that with them.

I can’t thank him enough for being such a good husband to me. Our family’s future is always on top of his list. He has given my son and I a comfortable life: meeting all of our needs, catering to some of our little extravagances and luxuries…even sharing our abundance with our respective families.

I could never forget his love and care for me the day our son was born. For four straight days, he never left my side. From the moment my water bag broke, while I was having labor pains, when I cried in fear when they told me I had to go under the knife, as they pulled our baby from my womb, even inside the recovery room…he was with me all the way. He always tells me how scared he is of the sight of blood…but he went inside the operating room anyway, to see our son at the moment of his birth. To kiss me tenderly as I lay on the table, telling me how much he loves me. He even went as far as to be with me inside the toilet as I took my first poop, as I had a difficult time going around…I couldn’t even reach back to wash myself because my stitches hurt so bad – so he did. How many of you ladies have a husband like that?

I remember reading in my friend’s blog that one of the reasons adultery or infidelity is committed is when we try to find the missing 10% from the relationships we have…neglecting the other 90% that our partners give us so unselfishly.

In my case, sure, there are moments when I get annoyed at his habit of throwing his clothes around the house. There are times when I wish he would be romantic enough to give me flowers on Valentine’s Day, or to surprise me on our anniversary. When his constant forgetfulness drives me up the wall. When I wish that he would be chivalrous enough to open the car door for me and guide me down. That missing 10% from him, I’m sure I could easily find in other men.

But how many of them will be able to give me the 90% that I already have?

So to hell with the roses and the neat house and the obsessive-compulsiveness and the knight-in-shining-armor. I’d rather have someone who will be with me in my joys and in my pains. To comfort me and wipe my tears away when I need him to. Who would look me in the eye and tell me he loves me. Someone who would hold my hand and kiss me for no reason at all. A man who always makes good on his promises. Who understands my need to be alone sometimes. A person who is man enough to swallow his fears because I need him to be strong for me.

I’ve found that and so much more in my husband. I’m sure I will never find another who loves me like he does.

Who needs the missing 10% anyway? I know I don’t.

Rainy Day Musings

2006-07-27T18:30:00.001+08:00

Finally, the big event is over.

I'm kind of ambivalent on the turnout, though...in terms of attendance, it way exceeded our expectations. Imagine, we were only prepared for 120 people, max, but the actual headcount soared to 170. A happy problem, indeed!

However, in terms of organization, I felt that I could've done better. I don't want to pass the blame on other people, but I honestly think that there were just too many changes, too many departments dipping into the project, that, in the end, we were the ones who suffered. Plus, it just sucks that the people who were supposed to be spearheading this project in the first place were all acting like prissy little bitches...their royal highnesses just wanted to sit prettily in their gowns; they're fast to pass the ball back at us whenever we try to get their support. At times, they go as far as abandoning their post. Every year, each time we hold events like these, they act like pampered brats, when, in fact, they should be the ones busting their asses to put everything together. If only all the decisions could come from our end, then, perhaps, things could have been a little better.

I also felt that we were seriously undermanned...like I said, attendance exceeded our expectations, and the simple and quiet event that we had in mind did not quite turn out like that. Come to think of it, the music playing during set-up could've been prophetic: "that's not the way we planned it, that's not the way we planned our lives..."

Oh well, what's done is done. At least we were able to see it through.

On a lighter note, after that brouhaha was over and done with, I got to spend four lovely days with my son. Oh, and last Saturday, my hubby and I even treated him to his first day out! Actually, what started it was his scheduled visit to the doctor for his immunization...since it was a Saturday, my hubby's family decided to come with us so we could drop them off at a nearby mall. And, because it was a weekend, you could just imagine the queue to the pediatrician's office, Heavens, it was a virtual kiddie party at the lobby.

To make the long story short, we left the doctor's office at around 1:00 pm (after lining up from 9:00 am, Jesus...!), and hubby and I decided to go along to the mall to do our grocery shopping as well.

My son's eyes were just ENORMOUS when we were going around! It was thrilling to see him so excited about everything...for me, it's like seeing my world in an entire new light. At first, we brought him around in his stroller, but we decided to pick up a baby carrier, and in the end, it was a really wise decision for us because he was afforded a better view. The little sweetie just didn't want to close his eyes. He even forgot to ask for his bottle, immersed as he was with his surroundings. However reluctant I was to bring him out that day, my doubts were quickly erased after seeing his expression...now, I can't wait to plan our next "excursion" =) And, happily, the little angel forgot the pain from his shots.

My experience with my son that day made me mull over some points in my life today. This morning, I was going through some of my Friendster friends' blogs, and I'm just...amazed...? fascinated...? shocked...? that, like them, my days are filled with so many worries, so many concerns that, to a baby like my son, all seem unimportant. To him, a day begins with a bright, happy smile and ends with a contented little snore...and everything in between is just sunshine and laughter. Sure, he has his crying moments, but those quickly pass by and are soon replaced with his coos and happy shrieks. And all the things he sees are just indescribably exciting.

Just when did we [adults] lose our fascination with the world? When have we ceased to find joy in a ray of sunshine, delight in a colorful flower? When did we start drowning in worldly concerns...and when will it ever stop?

I envy my son his peace of mind and his happy little thoughts. If only I could keep him protected forever.

Dreary Thoughts on a Gloomy Sunday

2006-07-16T14:59:00.000+08:00

Sunday afternoon and I'm here at the office.

It's three days and counting before the big event -- that's our network Press Launch on Wednesday evening. I'm trying to collect my thoughts, clear my mind a bit to get all the odds and ends together. I'm obssessing on whether I'm forgetting any minute details, if I forgot to remind someone to do something, if there's anything important that slipped my mind...Heaven forbid!

But through my dizzying schedules these past couple of weeks, I couldn't help but feel guilty. The times I've been spending with my son are a lot less than I would have wanted: I have to leave early for meetings and other important things to do...I arrive late because of details that require my attention. I could hardly get up in the morning, and in the late evenings when I arrive, I'm so tired I could hardly open my eyes.

I become increasingly guilty especially when I have to entrust my little angel to my mother-in-law in the wee hours of the morning. After an entire day's worth of stress, my body just can't handle early morning trysts with the baby. I just need to rest.

Oh yeah, I try to compensate. Even when my body is craving for a few more hours of shut-eye, I push myself awake to catch my son's delightful smiles. I love it when I catch my son just waking up, as he drowsily catches my eyes and gives a sweet, sweet, sleepy little smile. It brings tears to my eyes, I swear. I make sure to leave at the very last moment that my schedule will permit me, cuddling him close to me and showering him with kisses.

My boy always seems to sense whenever I'm about to leave for work. No matter how deeply asleep he is, he always wakes up just in time to see me go. It's a bittersweet moment for me: it flatters me to no end that my son values the few minutes' worth of cuddles and kisses, but it also tortures me to think that he would have to "steal" those times with me. I miss my post-operative days when we would just be together the entire day. If I had a choice, I would rather drown myself in his sweet smiles than sit here in the office.

It's a good thing I didn't go to work last Friday, at least I spent a little more time with him...plus yesterday's a Saturday, technically there's no work, so that's another day well-spent together. But these days, I'm beginning to realize the downside to my type of job. Even when I'm home, I have to stay in front of the computer, emailing to no end...or else spend hours on the phone, coordinating stuff that just wouldn't wait. ***Sigh*** my son's just a few feet away, and I couldn't even go play with him...

So after this friggin' launch is done, I don't plan to remove myself from my son's side for a long time. I swear.

New Blog for a New Start

2006-07-14T16:12:00.000+08:00

Hmmm...a fresh, clean slate, and I have no idea where to start. But let's give this a try.

I started a blog sometime last year, when Friendster offered subscribers their very own blogspots. I greeted this novelty with much enthusiasm, as, at that time, I had been very eager to start one but had no idea how. For a time, I got attached with my blog, pouring out to it the various events in my life, from the important to the mundane.

However, someone at Friendster had the bright idea to send out alerts to all your friends whenever you posted something new. I really hated it when my inbox gets flooded with all sorts of alerts...but what annoyed me the most was that I couldn't turn this feature off...which meant that, whenever I updated mine, I would inevitably end up doing the same thing to my friends' inboxes.

Now, we just couldn't have that, could we?

So here we are, starting a new blog, just in time for a new and very interesting phase in my life: motherhood. Yes, I am a proud mother of a beautiful 2 1/2 month old baby boy, the love of my life. I wanted to have my own space where I could freely talk about the wonderful changes in my life without having to burden my friends with constant alerts...being a new mother, I am naturally very loquacious about every little thing that concerns my boy or my life with him, and what better way to give way to those thoughts than to start an entire new blog?

Of course, this blog will not be solely dedicated to my baby (although I expect to talk about him quite a lot!). Like my old Friendster blog, I will continue to share my daily experiences, the highs and lows of my everyday life...

***Sigh*** It's always nice to have something new, don't you think?