Pai.

Pai has moved to a better location!

2010-08-18T16:27:00.001+08:00

Why don't you and I go someplace else to talk?

Ben's first makeover

2010-05-24T16:09:00.004+08:00

Ok, so a LOT has happened since my last blog. But as promised, we'll catch up and we will find a way to make this work.

Why don't I start with the subject of my new dog? Well, not entirely new, Benjamin Cotton or Ben for short, a shi-poo has been with me for 3 months and has completely, topsy-turvily, irritatingly, joyously changed my life. Not a single day goes by that I don't apologize to my four remaining cats for, if I should be honest, LOVING the dog more than I love them. I can't help it. He's one charming little mutt.

Anyway, yesterday he had his first haircut. What do you think of the new look?

Another sheepish half-excuse, half apology from a long blogging drought

2010-05-24T16:05:00.001+08:00

Hey! How are you? Been a long time.

We should speak more often :)

Am I Shocking You?

2009-09-23T11:34:00.000+08:00

Parisians snub their noses at our broken French so their imperfect English is fair game! I couldn't resist laughing out loud when I received this call from France this afternoon:

Caller: Good day, Madame, I am Monsieur so-and-so calling from (company name) in Paris. AM I SHOCKING YOU?

This is not quite it.

2009-02-27T18:46:00.004+08:00

There are a lot of things that no one wants to feel on any given day. Emotions, or sensations, like wrath, sadness, panic, pain, hunger, or something as mundane as a hang nail.

Today I discovered -- no, not discovered, as I've felt it before in the past -- recognized a feeling that can drag you down just as much. Something really quite dangerous because it can be difficult to put your finger into it, and only a healthy sense of grounded reality will enable you to call it as it is.

The feeling that you're settling.

When you know you deserve better (self-entitlement). Or when you know you should aim for something better, but doesn't want to, or couldn't. (Apathy?) Or whatever. I told you it's difficult to recognize, let alone describe.

Today, I feel like I'm settling.

25 Random Things About Me

2009-02-16T15:33:00.006+08:00

1. I am not experimental with food. When I look at a restaurant’s menu, I scan for the most familiar and tend to order the same tried-and-tested dishes every time. I only discovered sashimi a few years ago.

2. I love cats. I think they’re the most beautiful creatures. I currently own 12 of them right now, much to my mother’s chagrin. Some of them are strays I pick up from the street. One of the most agonizing moments for me is whenever I see a little stray kitten crying by the side of the road, and I deliberate if I should take it home or leave it to die. If I win the lotto, one of things I’ll do with my money is set up a shelter for strays.

3. I was a nerd when I was little. One of the things I did to pass the time was to watch the traffic from our second floor window and count the “ba-o” (Volkswagen Beetles) that passed by. I’d consider it a good day if I counted a hundred. I loved going to school and counted the days in the summer until the classes start in June.

4. I wish I had become: a) a concert violinist, b) a veterinarian, or c) a pre-school teacher. There’s still time :)

5. I rarely get sick. I don’t easily catch a cold or fever. I have never been admitted to a hospital. I secretly fear that I’ll get my fair share of sickness all in one go and then I’ll die quickly.

6. I am good at flirting. Not necessarily to hook up, but I can think of a quick come back to every lame pick up line. My friends and I wanted to write a book around 3 years ago on flirting, dating and relationships, a la “The Rules” or “He’s Just Not That Into You” and might have been minted millionaires by now. But sometime in the course of drafting the book, I fell in love and personally broke every single rule. Because when I fall in love, I become an idiot. A happy, tortured, desperate idiot.

7. The most beautiful place I have been to is Barcelona in the spring. The weather is beautiful, the language is beautiful, the people are beautiful. Even the cab drivers are hot. Nobody can say the same of our local taxi drivers.

8. Mantra for 2009: Why not? Life is short.

9. I love soccer. It’s the only sport I understand inside and out. I am a rabid fan of Real Madrid and Ronaldo.

10. I can never figure out why people think Brad Pitt is so hot. I mean he’s okay, but really, I’d prefer someone like Edward Norton over him in a heartbeat. Has more depth, appears much more intelligent and interesting. Big muscles turn me off. My hands-down favorite romantic lead is Nino Quincampoix from the French movie “Amelie”. If you know him, he pretty much represents someone I’d likely have a crush on.

To illustrate my point:

Ralph Fiennes over David Beckham;

Hua Ze Lei over Dao Ming Su;

Barack Obama over any given Sexiest Man Alive;

Francisco Barretto over everyone else.

11. I am forever trying to learn a new language. I once enrolled in a Spanish class, and quit after 3 sessions. I have tons of French language CDs and books, gathering dust in my room.

12. I have a love/hate relationship with coffee. I love its taste, but hate how quickly it can turn against you. Just a little more caffeine than I need, and I get palpitations and shortness of breath. So I think coffee is lovely, but it has cruel beauty.

13. I am not good at planning for the long-term. That’s short of saying my life has no direction hehehe. But God has been really good to me and have given me easy choices in life so far. It’s all in His hands. I live by Jeremiah 29:11.

14. I am not a morning person. I think it’s an amazing feat for people to wake up early and get to the office on time every single day. I usually stay in the office after every one else is gone and find that between 6 to 8 pm are my most productive hours.

15. I love wine. I don’t know if I’m in the scale of being an alcoholic, but my friends make it so much fun hehe. And just for the record, some of them have it so much worse than me. Ain’t that right, Kris John Castro? Hehehe.

16. I hate the rain. I think it’s highly inconvenient. In my self-absorbed world, it should only rain on Sundays, the perfect ruse to curl up and stay in bed the whole day.

17. Money is not everything. I have very little patience with people who make it their religion.

18. I am generous, to a fault. I am loath to come to a birthday party without bringing a gift. I lavish my loved ones with presents, just because. I make a big fuss out of occasions, to the point of being OC. I get hurt when they don’t appreciate my efforts, but I try not to show it.

19. I almost drowned once, in a beach in Moalboal. I owe my second chance at life to my friend Eden, whom I clung to as she swam for the both of us. I love the beach, even if I don’t know how to swim. Go figure.

20. I can live without TV.

21. I only recently appreciated the value of family. It took my father’s death for me to realize I have a very healthy family. Not without its imperfections, but I wouldn’t choose another set of people to love, even if someone paid me.

22. I love my friends, in all their complicated glory. We grew up together, seen each other in our best and worst; we have perfected a certain kind of dynamic, known what makes each other tick. We are each other’s fiercest protectors and worst enemies.

23. I am touchy-feely. I see no problem in kissing mere acquaintances on the cheek. I am the first one to offer my hand when meeting people. This leads to some inconvenient misunderstanding sometimes. Every now and then, I have to remind myself that other people define their physical boundaries differently.

24. When I was 11, I formed an imaginary band called The Crush. I was the bass player. I’ll spare you the other details. The first records (cassette tapes) I bought were by Billy Joel and The Beatles. By my fifth grade, I knew the lyrics to all of the Beatles songs. My favorite Beatle is Paul.

25. I totally expect you to try and give back 25 things about you. Come on, it’s fun.

Wishlist, 1st Qtr 2009

2009-02-11T15:54:00.006+08:00

Another wishlist, another reason to goad my private donors (you know who you are) into buying me my obsession du jour. I should know better, and some people will wag their fingers at me if I say that sometimes we exist solely to acquire a succession of material possessions. A cellphone, a car, the newest iPod, bragging rights to having traveled to the Maldives.

Shallow, I know. Morally bankrupt if that's the only philosophy you subscribe to. But nonetheless an astute observation of the way of life in the 21st century. You are what you own. And besides if you shop - as long as you can pay for it, you help the economy. I know, Obama says so. And we all need heroes in times like these, so yes: SHOP SHOP SHOP!

Actually, what a convoluted way of saying that I'm really only salivating after one thing, a laptop bag for my new laptop. I'm going to stare at the below images of positively chic laptop bags, and summon the powers of attraction, a la The Secret, until they physically materialize before my eyes. Or maybe I can just buy one, to save time.

My first birthday gift

2009-01-16T11:20:00.003+08:00

Cat not included. Thank you, Ku:)

Random Thoughts, Grasping at Straws

2009-01-05T15:34:00.007+08:00

I've always thought that people who have to deal with the death of a loved one only has to deal with the loss. When someone who has been a parent to you, or a lover, or a close friend suddenly passes away, then you struggle to fill the void. I've always assumed the straightforward solution was to look for something to fill that void, accept the absence, and move on. No one that close to me has died before, so I couldn't have under-estimated the matter more.

It's especially confusing because I have not had my father for 25 years. Logically speaking, there is no void to fill because he wasn't there. I wish only the brain has to process this, because then it's that simple, no big deal, and I can go on with my life like nothing happened. Because if I include feelings (and I'm a terribly emotional person), then everything goes haywire. Because if I should be so honest about what I feel, then I've lost my father twice over and it's too much loss to go through at once and there's no filling up that emptiness forever.

So I hid behind numbness and shut the feelings out. It's easier that way.

--------

I now understand that grief doesn't come to you in a big wave and after the crash, is gone forever. It manifests itself in bits and pieces, often uninvited, often when you least want it to. Sometimes, it reasons with you and you can converse with it and you begin to understand why it must come. Sometimes it taunts you and you can either be angry or you can smile resignedly and let it be your friend. Sometimes it is unkind, sometimes you realize that it is generous in the wisdom it brings.

--------

Growing up, it seemed to me there was very little evidence that he loved me. I knew that he could not get along with my mother and knowing both of their temperaments, I understood the reasons why he left. They were self-serving reasons, but I understood just the same. Nowadays it seems that all I can do is to understand, to be able to cope.

But it seemed unfair that because he fell out of love with my mother, he chose not to love me as well. Other husbands have left their wives, but have chosen to try to do what they can to soften the blow on the children. There was nothing subtle about my father's choice to be absent from our lives.

After a person dies, the ones he or she left behind ruminate about the life that once was. Me, I don't have a lot to go by. A three-year old's memory can only hold so much. But the people I talked to during the funeral, relatives and friends, filled me in. Like that New Year's eve when he and my brother were blasting firecrackers in our front lawn. Somehow I found my way to the pile of firecrackers unsupervised and picked up a whistlebomb and held the wick to a lighted candle nearby, imitating the adults. My brother told me how Papa quickly ran to me as they heard that familiar whistling sound go and knocked the firecracker away before it blew my right hand into pieces. He said he was rocking me back and forth protectively to make sure I wasn't scared.

Or how he'd listen to Bombo Radyo when I was a Mass Comm intern and ask the neighbors to tune in as well and proudly announce that that was his daughter reading the news. Or how he'd look forward to every end of the school year when he'd go on stage to put on me all the medals I earned and how he looked for a good barong to wear to my grade school graduation. He was proud to be the valedictorian's father.

During the wake, a former colleague of his told me how he once confided that he was just waiting for my brother to come home from Dubai and then he'd brave the shame and ask to be allowed to come home to us. My brother was to arrive December 30. Papa died December 21. Did he want to make up for all the time we lost? Could he have wanted to finally be my father?

-------

The other day, I visited his hometown. I passed by the area where he lived, the market where he must have bought the food he cooked daily, the tiny streets where he rode his trusty bicycle. I listened to my uncle reminisce how he used to take care of his orchids and fishes, and how every Friday they'd gather to have a few laughs and drinks. I learned he loved the sea and how he'd spent a whole afternoon mamasol for that night's supper and how he must have been a fisherman in another lifetime.

These evenings past, my mother would regale me with stories about how handsome he was as a young man, and how many girls came to her sobbing when they learned he was already married. She told me how he used to hold me as an infant and say lovingly, "day, maski asa nga angle ka tan-awn, gwapa gyud ka kaayo... tan-awa ang ilong, katalinis sa ilong, 'sus!"

I want to listen to these stories over and over again. I want to understand.

I want to understand.

Godspeed, Papa

2008-12-31T16:36:00.006+08:00

Eulogy delivered for Florefino Lapinid

December 28, 2009, Arnold Janssen Church, Mambaling, Cebu City

I grew up not really knowing my father. He left our family when I was 3 years old. Over the years, I would see him a few number of times, usually on birthdays, funerals or every end of the school year when he'd put on me the medals I earned in grade school. What I know of my father, I usually learned from other people.

I know his name was Florefino Lapinid, and that he is fondly called by family and friends as Pleny, I know he is tall, dark and handsome and that he loved to sing and play basketball.

I know that he was a dedicated policeman, having spent 37 years in the service. Even in the last hours of his life, his commitment to being a retired police officer was evident as he attended the retirees' Christmas party, where he met his untimely death.

I know that he belonged to a great family. If you are ever lucky enough to attend one of the clan's parties and get-together in Alumnos or Minglanilla, you will see a very close-knit group of people very attached and ready to help each other, something I missed growing up. My father loved to have fun. He had the happiest time when he was drinking with his brothers and I remember fondly the Bee Gees trio medley he did with Uncles Lorenzo and Billy.

I know that he had a hard life, because he would sometimes come to me unannounced, asking for whatever money I could spare. I know that he was very hardworking. At age 65, he still worked the tiny streets of Talisay, earning P150 a day as a sikad-sikad driver.

From that, I figured he must be a very good father. To still be working very hard at such old age so he can provide a good future for his other children suggests a deep love for his kids. I may not have experienced that love as often as I would have liked, but that he gave it so generously to others is good enough for me.

I have always wanted to get to know my father more. I admit that deep resentments have kept me from doing so in the past, because it hurts not to have had him all those years. At one point, I decided there was no sense in holding grudges and vowed to come see him one day. And then he died and I will never ever have my chance. So I will remember him as one would remember a good father.

Last night, the priest during the wake spoke about forgiveness. I believe that our greatest gift to him as he makes his journey to heaven would be just that: forgiveness. Papa, I forgive you. And I hope you can forgive me, for not reaching out, for being so arrogant in thinking you owe me a lot of things. You don't owe me anything. In fact, I am forever indebted to you for merely giving me the chance to be alive. I am sorry that I did not have the courage to tell you to your face that I love you.

Seeing the great number of people-- family, friends, colleagues, who came to pay their last respects told me that my father was a very good man. And that's how we, the ones he left behind, will always remember him.

Godspeed, Papa. We will all see you again in God's perfect time.

Unhappy

2008-12-29T15:45:00.002+08:00

This was not quite the Christmas I expected. My father died last week. He got run over by a car while attending a Christmas party with his old colleagues.

When faced with news about other people's death, I would never know quite how to react. No one in my immediate family has died before. I would not know how to feel when I looked at a dead body, or what to do to prepare for a wake or a funeral. Now that I have experienced death and loss firsthand, I'd say nothing really quite prepares you for it.

There is so much to say about my relationship with my father. Or maybe nothing at all. He left my family when I was three years old. How do you process more than two decades worth of hurt, loss, disappointments, regrets in 7 days? How do you forgive someone who has never asked for your forgiveness? How do you forgive yourself for not being readily able to forgive?

I haven't smiled in a week. For once, there is absolutely nothing to be happy about.

Because I've been good this year (snicker)

2008-12-18T11:33:00.008+08:00

Party fever has kicked off since last week! December is always a super-packed calendar for me because of birthdays (5 birthdays) and Christmas parties (countless), plus holiday shopping and gift-wrapping and gift-giving!

Speaking of gifts, I've already spent a lot for gifts to friends, godchildren, office mates and still, that doesn't cover everyone, like family. I figured, if I selfishly spent that money on myself, goshdarnit, the things I would've bought! So, I'll indulge myself for a while and daydream about:

MY CHRISTMAS (and birthday) WISH LIST 2008

1. Black thigh-high leather boots
I'll be back in Cologne in February so I need winter footwear. I've never enjoyed Cologne very much before, but this time, it's all about rediscovery. Can't wait!

2. An Obama-Biden 2008 yard sign
My 70-plus year old buddy Dick from LA came close to sending one to me, but his dear Republican heart just wouldn't let him. At least, he sent me a framed LA Times poster of the front page of Nov. 5, the day after Obama won the presidency. But not without a sarcastic note saying: So, you're an "Obama" fan? I'm sure the quote marks have a significance.

3. French language books, most especially:
I'm serious about learning French this time. So damn serious, you betcha.

4. Nenuco agua colonia
My favorite scent from my high school days. I always feel happy when I'm wearing this scent, but I've been having tough luck finding this in the stores nowadays.

5. Books -

A.J. Jacobs' The Year of Living Biblically

HTML for Dummies
Adobe Photoshop CS3 for Dummies

Patrick Suskind's Perfume

6. iPod shuffle portable speakers
Chico told me there are cheap ones from China, maybe P400 each. But I wish he'd just get it for me instead of telling me where I can buy one. Hmph! *arms akimbo*

7. Barack Obama's The Audacity of Hope audio book
Barack Obama reads to me about... Barack Obama. Double oh... my... God...

8. Mango winter coat
Penelope Cruz is my new goddess of hotness and Mango has all my savings.

9. A set of wine glasses
I've been a wine addict for a while now and I wondered how I could've survived without owning a set of glasses. Once I have them, there's no limit to the wine parties my friends and I could have for no reason at all.
----

Since my friends and family don't read this blog, I hope, as I like it, I don't know how I can not-so-subtly hint that I want these things. Hmmm... thinking... seriously thinking... scheming... diabolically scheming... *strokes chin*

Please don't read my blog

2008-12-17T11:33:00.002+08:00

Seriously, I hope no one reads my blog. I don't want people prying into my head.

Then why blog at all, you might ask. Well, that's the thing, I don't really know. I think I've always been conflicted about blog-writing. I've whined as much in previous posts, like the one here and here. I want to write, because writing is one of the few life-vests I have, to keep myself sane. As a friend once told me, we write to save our own souls first, the others' second. My blog is my online refuge, my hiding place (hence the title of this blog), for when I want to switch off the world for a while and tune into my self, whatever state of incarnation I may be in.

I want to write, but I want to write honestly and from the heart. I think that's the only way I know how. But being honest has its drawbacks, you simply can't be too truthful, because of a number of things, among them: etiquette and the fear of being judged.

If no one reads my blog:

1. I can tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
2. No one gets hurt by the things that I write.
3. I can name names.
4. I don't have to be nice. (That's what Facebook is for.)

Another option is the good, old handwritten journal, but I've tried that before and didn't really take off. Photoshop is much too fun to leave out in the process. So there.

'Tis the season!

2008-12-15T18:44:00.002+08:00

E-mailer invites I made for our barkada's annual Christmas party

A big post-it from God

2008-12-15T17:00:00.000+08:00

Billboard along North Road, on the way to the office

Blue October and my alternate universe

2008-12-12T10:40:00.006+08:00

Blue October is proving to be a treasure trove of tunes that are my current 24/7 favorite soundtrack. I've already gushed about Calling You in a previous blog entry (still not sick of it, love the song completely!) I guess you can always tell which songs are the winners in any given anonymous album, because I just overheard this blaring off my office mate's Mac and its melody is like a stain you can't get off. I did a little Googling and learned that Calling You was a most requested tune in the US airwaves in its time. Into The Ocean has been a longtime favorite, perfect for highway cruising on Sunday afternoons on the way to the beach.

Blue October's songs are hardly feel good tunes, but they are diverse and powerful, and more importantly, emotive, as main man Justin Furstenfeld has no problem wearing his hurting heart on his sleeve, so lyrically the songs appeal to the Little Miss Drama in me. When he's not snarling about something that made him broken and angry, Furstenfeld can actually articulate a thing or two about everyone's favorite subject: luuurve.

Balance Beam reminds me of my embattled best friend D, who is trying to win my friend E's heart. And while the wooing process remains their private business, I get consulted for the occasional tip every now and then. I have long given up ambitions of being a good matchmaker (past results have been disastrous) but Balance Beam's catchy chorus sounds like good pointers. Boyfriends, take notice, too, you clueless goofs.

One, you've got to take it kind of slowly
Two, you've got to hurry up and make your move
Three, you've got to tell her how you're feeling
Four, you've got to be the perfect gentleman
When you shake the walls, you've got to make 'em bend
Yeah you're got to show her that she's the balance beam
And you keep falling all around her fairy tale.

Another favorite is Come In Closer. I like it because, if I may be frank, it sounds like a great make out song, with delicate trip-hop beats and sensual back up vocals. I'm validated to find another review of the song which describes it as "a wintry, fireplace sex song", so see, I'm not the only one who thinks of sex when I hear this track.

Finally, Hate Me. If Blue October's songs are an honest autobiography by Furstenfeld, then it's easy to surmise that he is a troubled man in constant battle with his inner demons. A couple of tracks are about wanting to transcend from depression, redemption and musings on lost loves. Hate Me implores the love interest to stay away from him for her own good. Lyrically, I like it because it hits a little closer to home. Not the part about addiction but pushing people away thinking it would be for the best for everyone concerned. I'm not going to elaborate, haha. But consider the lyrics:

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn’t do for you

Hate me in ways
Yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you

I'd like to segue over to the subject of my new iPod, which I'm loving more than I expected to. I've always preferred to get a Shuffle over the snazzier, more sophisticated ones. I did not need a screen or the admittedly awesome interface of the iPod Touch. I did not want a big storage space, I have my 3-year old iPod U2 for that, with more than 4,000 songs and half the 20GB storage capacity untouched. I just wanted something tiny that I can clip on somewhere in my body and forget about for an entire day. It's pretty much theft-proof, too, for the best pickpockets wouldn't know where to unclip the cute gizmo. Pretty nifty to listen to when you're jogging, or, like I did last night, dancing like crazy to salsa music in the kitchen, at 1 am, with the rest of the house oblivious to my crime.

Yesterday I discovered another reason to love it all the more. I was walking in the mall with (what else?) Blue October on shuffle, and it felt like I was in one big music video, with other mall-goers playing bit actors and of course, me as the star. Of course, this plays very well into my alternate universe, where I'm... erm, I shouldn't tell you. You're not part of it. Hehehe. Anyway, what I love the most about my Shuffle is that it doesn't feel like something I should be constantly worrying about if I've lost or misplaced it. It gives me such freedom to move that all I should be concentrating on is the music, and how that imaginary music video is playing out. Now if you'll excuse me, the chorus is coming up and you're in my shot.

Mine, mine, all mine

2008-12-12T10:00:00.000+08:00

Because I had to have it before plaid totally goes out of style.

Chanson du jour 12.10.08

2008-12-09T11:06:00.005+08:00

"CALLING YOU" by Blue October

Since last night, I have had this tune from Blue October's History For Sale album, on constant repeat in my new iPod shuffle. I blame it on the super, super, super-catchy melody at the chorus, can't get enough of it! I find the lyrics a bit too stalker-ish for my taste, though:

I will keep calling you to see
If you're sleeping or you're dreaming, if you're dreaming, are you dreaming of me?

or, worse

I'll be calling you to see, do I try so hard to make you smile, to make us smile?

Strangely, they remind me of someone. A little bit.

Anyhoo, when I'm not in one of my melodramatic moods, the lyrics hardly matter. Melody trumps the message, so no hidden allusions here. And today has been definitely devoid of drama so far, self-manufactured or otherwise. So yay! No complaints whatsoever.

Good morning, everyone :)

Thank you, 'Roo

2008-12-08T12:20:00.002+08:00

Sometimes I can be an over-dramatic brat, but you love me anyway. Thank you.

What the %&#@ is a blog for if you cannot say what you want?

2008-12-05T13:11:00.003+08:00

...

Fully Booked!

2008-11-19T13:44:00.008+08:00

I've been meaning to buy a copy of Paulo Coelho's "The Alchemist" to give as a gift to a friend, but I have not been able to find one anywhere, and I've looked in four cities. (Have they stopped printing it?)

Anyway, I've looked too many times at Paulo Coelho books that I ended up buying two which I have not read before. I guess I have my weekends full now.

In other news: First week of December is major gift-giving week! Yey! Cartwheels! Fireworks! If by that time I'm still not broke, I'm buying the book below. Or, hopefully I will receive it as a gift :)

Generous, loving friends, this is a shameless hint. *Wink, wink. I want this book. Give it to me.

Cats and Christmases

2008-11-19T10:56:00.006+08:00

Mother has decided the Christmas season has begun, so I spent part of my Sunday putting out and decorating our Christmas tree. They're the same trinkets and ribbons from last year, so I figured it would be quick work. My cat Dwight decided to derail the whole process by climbing up and down the 5-foot tall tree, pawing at and playing soccer with the Christmas balls and chewing and unraveling the ribbons.

At first I was annoyed, but I just let him have his fun. After he's established that the tree was: 1) not a threat to his existence, 2) not edible and 3) not an exciting playmate, he got bored and slept under it. It's been his favorite napping place ever since.

Dwight is under a year old so he's never experienced Christmas. I wonder if cats will ever understand Christmas anyway. I think he shares my indifference towards the tree: pretty but plastic. Meant to liven up the living room, but no two family member ever lives in it for more than a couple of hours in the weekend. My family has been missing a member or two every Christmas, year after year, ever since I can remember. Someone is always not at home, by other obligations or by choice. So that warm, fuzzy, Hallmark picture-perfect scene where everyone gathers laughing under the family Christmas tree opening gifts and hugging all around? Totally alien to me.

When I get my chance to have a family of my own, I'm going to make sure no one gets to feel as weird as I do on Christmases. I'll tell you about it in a couple of years.

This was supposed to be a sunny blog entry

2008-11-18T10:58:00.008+08:00

I needed to kill some time at the mall last Sunday and I decided I was in the mood to blog so I headed to an internet cafe. I had the great misfortune of being seated next to a despicable jerk.

He was a foreigner, a tall, pale man close to his 60's. Ordinary looking, you wouldn't be able to pick him from any given group of Caucasian expats that are now flocking in numbers to Cebu. On my way to my seat, I glanced at his screen and saw a video camera image of a young Filipina wearing what appeared to be a bikini. Great, I thought, I'm seated next to a pervert. He did not even bother to minimize the window. He was typing very fast and trying to adjust something in his head phone. I tried to ignore his presence and went about my business.

The young half-naked girl on the screen tells a very tragic but all-too-familiar tale. You bump into them everywhere, Caucasian geriatrics walking hand-in-hand with nubile, scantily-clad 16-year-olds. These girls play into the stereotype so much that they even dress alike, in spaghetti or tube tops so skimpy there's no longer any pretense of innocence. They have the same long hair dyed in unnatural shades of blonde, wear the same faces of fake amusement as they listen to what their older dates are saying. The old men look like they're having the time of their lives. They must have spent their best years working to save for a retirement like this one, which allow them to live lavishly on some beach and their money can buy everything they want, including women. Back in their countries, they're just balding old men past their prime. I cross my fingers and pray for the off-chance that theirs is a true romance, that hopefully they love each other, even if they do make quite the odd, cringe-inducing couple. I know in my gut it is not so, and it saddens me.

Some say no one is the victim here. The girls do it for money, and the hopes that maybe, the foreigners will fall in love with them or at the very least, find them indispensable enough to want to marry them and they can finally leave their wretched lives here in the Philippines. The men , of course, get sex and servitude in every form. Their young female companions can serve as tour guides, escorts, cleaning ladies, etc. When you come to think of it, it's just mutually beneficial commerce actually.

But being a woman, I especially take offense at the manner that these men are preying on our young women. Even if their business is one of mutual consent, it doesn't take genius to know that it is just plain wrong. Given half a chance, these girls would not be peddling their bodies to wrinkled customers. If men would only treat them with more respect, and not as some sexual commodity. If they would not pay for it, no one's soul will be for sale.

But I realize, I don't really know which tree I'm barking at here. Again, these girls aren't exactly victims. Some are even very skilled at it, maintaining many different boyfriends, as if they're different ATMs. Meanwhile, the image of the Filipina worldwide has become stained.

I travel abroad for work and sometimes I get confronted with the notion that Filipinas all over the world are more known for being household help and nannies or as internet brides. The idea repulses me, but encourages me as well to try to paint a different picture of us to foreigners' minds. That we can also be educated, talented, competitive, principled.

Back to the asshole beside me. His mobile phone rang. He took the call and spoke to the caller very loudly in Spanish. Maybe he's just callous, or maybe he didn't think Filipinos can understand a little bit of Spanish. I did not want to overhear him but we were maybe 3 feet apart and his voice was that loud. He was talking to his wife about some bank related matters, domestic matters. He said something about flight schedules being changed. He seemed impatient to get off the phone, but at the same time peppered their conversations with affectionate banter. And then he asked to speak to his kids. He talked to them in high-pitched baby-speak.

And then he blew kisses to his cellphone and said goodbye to the caller/s. Promptly after putting down his phone, he picked up his headset, looked at his screen and said, "Ahhh, yessss.... so where are you now? What is that you are wearing?"

What an animal. There's a special place in hell reserved for atrocious perverts like him.

Turning blue

2008-11-18T10:36:00.004+08:00

I thought that I was waiting for my life to finally start. And here I am fearing I might be waiting for nothing at all.

I've been holding my breath for so long, I think I might be turning blue.

Parched

2008-11-01T17:50:00.005+08:00

My writing muse has probably deserted me forever. A long time ago, the words used to flow easily. They were never deliberate, never intended to save anyone's soul but mine. Now, it is a painstaking struggle to say what I feel about life, loss and love. Especially love.

So much so that I have to borrow other people's lines. They're Pablo Neruda's this time:

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing...

I crave a return to simpler days. When a pen and paper (not the laptop) would do more beautifully. Walking on foot and spending a good few solitary hours staring at a church, instead of hopping on the tourist bus. Praying and actually having faith.

Thanks to "no thanks"

2008-10-31T14:42:00.004+08:00

I wasn't seeking to take credit for it, but I thought they saw how I just wanted to make everyone happy, as always. They weren't pretty, the things I had to go through, but I spared them the details and believed sincerely their smiles would have been worth the trouble. I really, really believed it, couldn't wait to give. Maybe that's why their words bruised me. Whatever happened to "It's the thought that counts"?

I feared this would make me give up on giving. But naaah. I'm a bigger person that that.

Note to reader: I'm trying to be as vague as possible here, but if you have a feeling this is about you, then it probably is. Sorry, just had to rant.

Paris, reluctantly

2008-10-28T13:39:00.004+08:00

I'm back from Paris. While I expected to do some heavy live blogging about the trip, certain tiny mishaps prevented me from doing so, and now I'm simply overwhelmed about the sheer number of photos and anecdotes to pick from. Also, I haven't quite adjusted yet, I keep waking up at odd hours and I'm feeling neither here nor there. Add the pressure of another trip in the next 3 days. So I've decided, the blog would just have to wait.

In a nutshell though:

Best Part
Climbing the steps of the Sacre Coeur, breathtaking in the late evening light, and walking the streets of Montmartre after midnight. I didn't see Amelie Poulain's cafe, but that hardly mattered. I will remember it for the rest of my life.

Worst Part
Anything that concerns the Parisian metro. Efficient and cheap, sure. But it simply sucks the charm out of being in the most romantic city if you have to travel below it and miss the sights. But then again, I couldn't afford to pay the taxi, so sue me.

Details in the next blog.

Mine, mine, all mine

2008-10-09T17:31:00.006+08:00

Stopped and stared... and spent

2008-09-30T11:18:00.004+08:00

I tried to forget about it. I tossed and turned at night. I thought of the consequences. In the end I decided, I must get a white coat like Anne Hathaway's in "Get Smart".

I will end up penniless, but I will be looking fabulous.

Chanson du jour

2008-09-30T10:41:00.003+08:00

"SURE" by Debbie Gibson

Sure. I was so sure.
Until I just didn't know anymore.

Adam says Aaahh

2008-09-29T13:10:00.003+08:00

My cat Adam shows me the inside of his mouth.

Scary or cute? I polled housemates, neighbors and friends and the results are in. Scary: 9 votes, Cute: 1 vote. The lone cute vote came from me.

Love is all around me

2008-09-26T11:52:00.002+08:00

Or like. Or lust. Or the burning desire to be assured that one "still has it."

Is it just me, or is everybody trying to hook up? I have been having a conversation on at least 5 different occasions with various friends about dating prospects, creative first moves, do's and dont's, and hitting on the waiter from your friendly neighborhood pizzeria. Hmmm, must be the colder climate, as I was ribbing a friend about potentially singing "Ang Disyembre ko ay malungkot..." during the holidays. Or the desire to brush up one's game and confidently say, "may asim pa ako."

Now, I love the concept of dating. Being effectively out of the dating pool for a while now, I play either the indispensable love doctor or the overeager matchmaker with an embarrassingly dismal record. I am rather amused watching from the sidelines.

Trying to get my groove back

2008-09-25T15:56:00.005+08:00

I started this new blog with a lot of promise and excitement. After all, I haven't blogged since November of 2006! I thought, my life got pretty exciting and hectic the whole time after that, so there's plenty of happy, sad, crazy experiences to draw from. Should be fun. But now, two full weeks later, I'm just in a rut.

I thought I should just pick up from where I left off and add to my already existing blog. But I revisited its previous posts, and I didn't recognize the girl who wrote them. Sure, I remember writing them, and I smiled as I reminisce what a high-strung, excitable little girl I was about things that probably made me lose sleep then but don't seem so petrifying now. A case in point: my previous blog's colors then were hot-pink and black. Not such appropriate colors now, I think, and I like the coffee-colored hues in this new one better. What the hey... did I just grow up?!

Well, come to think of it, I might have. I believe I stand up for myself more now, I take less shit from others. My self-penned Friendster profile confesses: 'I am nice. Too nice that I can't say no to people.' Well, sometimes saying no feels good. But don't worry, I am sure I have not become a bitch either hehe. I found out that you can take the high road and keep your self-esteem intact.

I'm back doing work that means more to me than just the bi-monthly paycheck. I've learned to "stop and smell the roses." I've recognized that while I am busy making plans for tomorrows that might not come, life happens, so I should just live it. In other words, I've departed so much from the girl who wrote from the heart two years ago and I'm at a loss on how to reconcile her from who I've become today. That's the epiphany. That's why I needed a new blog and that's why I'm still struggling with this pesky writer's block.

But I'm sure one thing hasn't changed. This girl still needs to run away once in a while, to find herself, to explore the deep recesses of her heart. Maybe now more than ever. This will be her favorite hiding place.

Voila

2008-09-12T13:36:00.000+08:00

Finally, I have my new blog set up. After several weeks of sleeve-pulling and eyelash-batting, my boyfriend finally caved in and did the final aesthetic touches.

Let the dreaming and scheming, brooding and doodling, shameless gut-spilling begin.