new page

i'm contemplating on getting a tattoo on my forehead so i could remind myself of this miraculous year...one tattoo for every blessing...that should hurt like hell! :) but the mere sight of pins and needles make me faint. there must be some way to keep all these memories indelible.

it's not everyday that you get your wishes granted.

my parents deserve to be glorified next to God. they are my personal protective "cloak"--my impermeable defense against the cold.

i have at last turned to a new page. below is the page i'd eternally flip back to if only to remind me of how mysterious God's ways are, and of how blessed i am to have been given this chance to shine...bright enough to make my family the happiest this side of the planet.

nuestra casa

all dogs go to heaven: a eulogy for judge

i've never had a real pet.

my mom never liked the idea of having a dog. but my persistence overpowered her resolve. soon after, a yellow labrador came--but by mistake. i named her "jury". i gave her 5 baths all in all before a short phone call informed me that i got the wrong dog. at that time, jury and i were already way past the bonding stage. our parting was unfortunate, but bearable. after 3 days, "judge" came to take her place.

it took me 4 days to get used to the sight of yet another yellow labrador at our backyard. i decided not to participate in any bonding instance that would again displace my emotional attachment. i built a collapsible wall between us. at first, the distance was reasonable. judge was 5 sizes bigger than jury anyway, so i wouldn't be able to scoop him up and give him a bath inside our makeshift bath tub in the laundry area.

but he was as persistent as i was (as i've already mentioned, i practically begged my mom to reconsider). he would wag his tail tirelessly at the sight of me and would run to me for help each time he sees a cat surreptitiousy tiptoeing its way towards his blue plastic food bowl.

and so the wall collapsed.

my body clock temporarily changed soon after our "connection". i would wake up at 8am to check on him. my dad decided not to tie him up and suppress his freedom of locomotion. judge's lonely eyes never failed to sear my heart everytime i leave him panting for liberation. scraping off dog poo on pavements made me an overnight sensation. my mom showered me with praises after my first successful "scraping session"..."ang sipag ng anak ko!"

the parvo virus slowly attacked my dog's intestines and made its way to his heart. i've gone through every bit of internet material about the deadly virus to ever have enough time and strength to resist not feeling sad. i was crying inside. my dad kept telling me not to look at judge anymore. but i did...many times, until his demise. the sight of him made me wish i didn't give in to his searing eyes when i tied him up against the post so that he would not wander off to some dirty scavenger's abode.

before letting him go, i talked to him and said "judge, kung hindi mo na kaya, magpahinga kana..." and so he did...the next day, at 5am. i miss him so much!

i will never again ask my mom to reconsider her firm avowal of not having a pet dog.

hits & misses

i am color blind. coffee, black and egg white...


ate len, ma, daddy and i went color hunting the other day. we went to robinson's handy man to look at swatches and to have all the base colors mixed in their uber expensive "mean machine" to come up with one ferocious looking interior shade. it was amusing at first, but the hours dragged on until we have combed every shelf and aisle of the mall's impressive hardware finds.
we stressed over a lot of color choices. there was this red-orangy tint that got stuck in my throat the minute i laid eyes on it. i can't seem to say the name of the color out loud, because i wasn't sure if it's the right one. ate len said when picking the perfect wall color, there should be no room for error. nevermind the smell, the prices left us nauseous! the color game created a big crater in my brain.


in this task, there's no point in being specific when we can't even find the exact shade of yellow (yes, the primary color) to compare the other shades of yellow with, considering that they all belong to the same "family" of color. there's sweet corn, sunny day, sunshine yellow, etc. etc.!
so we used the reliable "blind man's bluff" game and ended up choosing the safest shade to match our pieces of wood furniture at home. my mom was impatient (as usual) and wanted to get out of the store the moment ate len and i attempted to start a weak debate on whether kuya ren would be keen on our chosen color. so we scurried to the counter and paid for the 20-liter jumbo drum of mustard yellow.

"nilamon ka ng langit"

there are some battles we can't choose.


francis m's diagnosis came 8 months before, but death, like love, is something you can never prepare yourself enough for.


i am trying to understand the miracle of life that we take for granted. we lead different lives. we are all strangers. God is the only constant and familiar figure we know, but can't see--such a confounding irony. i sing his songs, i dance to superproxy, but we are perfect strangers.


a perfect stranger touched my life and fought his last battle this morning.

http://www.happybattle.multiply.com/

present mood

writing is good therapy

i'm a trifle short of modesty to own up to the many writings i have indulged my followers to reckon with these past months.

there's nothing extraordinary about my passion for writing. although i tend to write more often about the movies i've seen, and about my family, in words that are far from being plain and simple. it's only a matter of time before a critic describes me as highfalutin. anyway, i wouldn't dare explain my choice of words and writing style even if it means getting paid for it.

i absolutely love reading my posts out loud whenever i can (during my "alone time"). i get a good laugh out of reading my own version of jane's story and sometimes, i edit some words out to soften my approach and tame my vocabulary to make way for reader-comprehension. at the very least, i write because writing is my therapy.

after years of dealing with legal jargons, i am at liberty to choose a manner of writing that would best suit my mood, allow my eager brain to defrost, and relax my sentiments. i don't know of other ways to console my anxiety. i am open to suggestions.

a lot of people appreciate my style, though. i plan to write a novel to divert my attention from bad news and negative thoughts. i can never thank this (sort of) diversion enough for occupying my time while the bar results lurk in the shadows. i get cranky this time of the year, and i suppose you cannot blame me for that.

i hope it's ok to wish that you would support me if i do decide to have my novel published. keep your fingers crossed for me.

bolt from the blue

i cannot contain my excitement!


we had an impromptu family reunion last saturday. everyone was present.


my brother has this thing about giving gifts, and he never fails to shine on our parade. this time, he upstaged ate's generosity and gave me 5 books! i remember telling him how much i adore jane austen, and i'm hoping against hope that he bought me 5 of her best novels.


what made it more interesting is that kuya ren had the books gift-wrapped in candy-colored wrappers! he made me swear not to open another "gift" unless i've finished reading the first one i chose to open (by random selection).

curiosity is lethal indeed! :)

PERSUASION

(the first book)

my soul mate =)

James McAvoy

vanity 'palate'

my teeth are still aching. i don't exactly know whether my gums are in connivance with my teeth in this excruciating battle with yellow elastics, but hey, i am no dentist. so i'm free to put the blame on whoever i choose--or in this case, on "whatever" i choose.

vanity has given a doctor's wallet a full face lift. people pay big money to look good. they have been slaves under a common notion that feeling good comes after looking good. i want to disagree, but as you already know, i just got home from a dental appointment. i traveled to manila to have my braces adjusted. my mom has always been very vocal about her aversion towards braces. everytime i complain about my aching teeth (or gums), she'd say, "bakit pa kasi nagpa braces, hindi naman kailangan?!"

my reason is obvious, simple, and can best be related through the use of my own adage: no gaps, no glory.

there's this squabble between belo and calayan. i think it's really funny. doctors to the stars, they claim to be, and yet they appear on tv sounding more like shrinks. in fact, belo made a detailed recount and analogy of her failed relationship with hayden kho, in tears. i could have willingly succumbed to her sincere relations if it weren't for kris aquino's, ehem, "credibility" as an interviewer.

a vision of my teeth lined up in a straight row makes my heart flutter. the statement 'beauty builds confidence' is far from being hypocritical. but then again, even super models are nitpickers. you don't know how bad this makes me feel.

to me, beauty is strength and courage--strength to hold onto that youth, and courage to accept that youth will leave you in time. growing old gracefully is my dream.

a dream cream, no matter how effective, cannot stop time from ticking. no one can escape old age.

but my teeth must be preserved, i insist. so i guess i'd have to bear this throbbing pain...all in the name of beauty.

who's got talent

i surf the internet everyday. it has been my source of everything. from current events to high fashion, from the least favorite people to ford's most famous...the world is just a few keys away. yahoo has always been my search engine.


youtube is one big talent resource. i mean, who does not know charice pempengco? but if i were to confine the search for talented people in my circle, i would say there's a handful of golden talent here, too. ate len, for one, is a great cook! my brother can name all the great albums in a jiffy; my niece can work up a tune better than most children her age; my aunt (tita madre) can write an intelligent dissertation with her eyes closed...



"talent" for me, is a person's ability to demonstrate his skill, both singular and rare, in such a way that people can readily associate his name with it. it can be any skill. singing and dancing are the most common. but there are still areas where talent thrives when you least expect it. take, for instance, designing web pages. it took me hours just to choose a new template for my blog, i can just imagine how grueling it must be for designers to find a safe palette that would appeal to bloggers like me. to think that martha stewart actually made a career out of pastel colors!

sean penn. now there's a golden talent. how can you not appreciate the pool of talents in the kodak theatre? the entire production was amazing! it was one talent recognition meant for history to challenge. it gets better and better each year.

i would like to believe that i am the type of person who knows how to appreciate talent when i see one. i just don't get to express my appreciation that often. you cannot actually feign the state of being 'speechless'.

i would like to encourage you to acknowledge talent whenever you can.

who knows? in a few years time, pilar would grow up to be the next charice pempengco. anything is possible.

of vanity and amiability...

i must say that i was quite sad when my reading came to an end. "pride & prejudice" is one great read i will forever go back to until my vision permits me.

i willed it to be a slow read. my eyes deliberately ignored the next few words on the pages of the book just so i can delay the unraveling of characters. but my excitement could not but yield to my usual reading pace. i was lost in a daydream of sorts. jane austen's words were my own--if i had that talent in writing sentences just as expressively, i would have sent for random house's owner to make arrangements for the release of my novels myself. considering that i've raked in quite a large amount of income for producing bestsellers, they would be at my beck and call, i'm sure.

but i am not jane, though i try to emulate her likeness in my being everytime i write. i am aware that filipino readers are not inclined to reading books written in a rather formal language, however exquisitely written. ms. austen used the words "amiable" and "profligate" a hundred times and i honestly believe that there could not be a more apt way of putting such words together in one sentence to create a refreshing irony despite their formality. english writers indeed enjoy this edge. they can write about the chirping birds and earn the best reviews. i cannot even begin to relate how unfortunate this makes me feel, for not being born into the language.

i had to watch the film to know whether i've pronounced some words correctly in my head as i read the beautiful words she quilted together. ms. austen did not even describe the characters that intimately, and yet she was able to create a vivid picture of them dancing in my head! oh i'm sure you'll fall in love with mr. darcy too!

my hangover has taken me over the bridge, i know. it is now more of an obsession than an erstwhile 'hobby'. i'd rather not read it again--not until after a year or two, for fear that my praises (for the book) may diminish the meaning of requited love if it were read more than once. for now, i trust myself enough to find contentment in anticipating my second reading, unless i want to preempt the joy i am sure to feel when i start reading the book again.

...i can't wait!!!

drowning in metaphors

everywhere i go i see metaphors.

road hogs hit the streets and invade every open highway; rug rats crawl on all fours and keep a parent's day full and hectic; i am a couch potato.

i can never write without metaphors. they make the simplest sentence interesting. valentine's day is presented in all its metaphorical splendor. the infamous greek and english playwrights could not have written with spunk without them. song writers are in the same boat, i bet.

tori amos owes her success to metaphors. 'cornflake girl' determined her career in music. who can forget the movie 'great expectations' (a film adaptation of charles dickens' novel)? it was one figurative staging of false hopes and bravado, thanks to anne bancroft's sterling performance as a spinster who was betrayed by her fiance.

with metaphors, you can turn a simple cooking ingredient into a magical word. sugar can mean sweet, chili can mean spicy, onion can pertain to sensitivity.

colloquial terms are best used when answering bar questions. you can never fool a magistrate with your blossoming english vocabulary. but given the length of the exam and the breadth of vocabulary you may overuse as a consequence, metaphors can be your last resort. you'd be surprised at how helpful they are as clinchers.

even a shampoo commercial contains metaphors. "i am rain" is one good example.

metaphors are great when writing blind items: she is anger and misery, or she is a freakozoid =) (kilala nyo na sya? haha!)

life is viewed as one big metaphor: my life is a dream.

i would like to believe that i am a metaphor too: i am a star

=)

becoming jane

you might think that i am a bit odd, but there's more truth in oddity than in monotony.

i get affected everytime i watch a good film. especially when the film is about a writer, an author, or a novelist. I already wrote an entry after watching Miss Potter, a movie that featured the rather tame yet superb acting skill of renee zellweger. this one is about jane austen (portrayed by anne hathaway)...the author of the acclaimed "pride and prejudice".

i have not gone beyond reading the very short introduction in the book about the kind of life that ms. austen lived. she never got married despite the many suitors who asked for her hand in marriage. she was heart-broken most of her life. and it was a sad moment of truth for her that led her to write 6 complete novels that now hold much praise from critics (yes, even at this day and age)...thanks to mr. tom lefroy (the young lawyer who broke her heart).

i've always believed that reading starts right after the heading that says 'chapter 1'. to my great regret, i refused many times to give my eyes a bit of coaxing so that they may roll towards the shortest biography section about the author, that is usually seen at the very beginning...the first page where the year of printing is almost always written on. so that's probably why i got into the bad habit of ignoring it at the outset. at least now i can start going back to my old books even if it's only for the purpose of reading the first page.

i was really taken by jane's life story. she was a struggling writer then. culture didn't make her career much likable than if it were pursued today. such bad timing for a talented writer as ms. austen. she should've eloped with mr. lefroy to be a living example of her fiction...but she chose to be practical (this judgment of hers i would never understand, being the hopeless romantic that i am). but then again, after reading the wiki on jane, the movie gave too much of jane's affections for tom away than she would've wanted (if she were still alive). in her letters to her sister cassandra, there was evident fondness towards the young bloke, but she preferred to conceal it for fear that tom's family would disown him, evasive as his uncle was at the very idea of pursuing a simpleton like ms. austen.

i'm writing this because i want to encourage you to read jane's novels... in the hope that you may capture the greatness in the art of putting the simplest words together, and creating a beautiful synergy of letters and emotions...all for the love of affecting lives generation after generation, after generation, yours and mine.

i don't expect you to understand my oddity and embrace it in exchange for all the "entertainment" i've given by displaying my blog entries for your random viewing...but i wish you'd give my words of encouragement a thought =)

here are some of jane austen's novels:

pride and prejudice

sense and sensibility

emma

mansfield park

persuasion

soon to open =)

angry, cranky, sue me

i consciously keep an 'anger meter' in my head that ticks when i'm hitting close to 100 wps (words per second). i talk too much when i'm angry. that's just how i am.

it's not just plain hate-talk, it's one emotional turbulence i wished away, albeit unsuccessfully when i was 6 years old, and one of my playmates broke my barbie doll's arm. he became a friendless, hapless creature after that.

my temper doesn't rise that often. i try to control my breathing and count 1 to 50 in my head to release some livid mental waves--believe me, it works! i have a very selective confrontational spirit that reboots each time i feel that i've been had. vindication has a different ring to it more than the words 'getting even'.

it's ok to surrender to fury and antagonism once in a while...because after the outburst, everything will settle like pebbles in a glass of water--nice and easy. sabi nga sa curious case of benjamin button..."you can be as mad as a dog at the way things went. you can curse the fates. but when it comes to the end, you have to let go" pa din.

sometimes, holding back causes heart attack. it engulfs and dampens your spirit, it enslaves your potential, and traps your conscience inside a one-track road. unless you take it out on someone, you'd be fenced in indefinitely.

if you let that person get away with hurting your feelings, he will not reach a point of realization until some other brave soul pops his balloon and voila! he's a changed man! too bad you lost the chance of getting your message across. in your eyes, he is now the untouchable, fearless beast, and soon after, you'd feel responsible for allowing him to trample on your feelings in the first place. if it were not for the complacence he gathered (with you as guinea pig), he would have said the magic word--sorry--right after his first transgression.

just make sure that your show of anger can still be accommodated within reason. there's classy outrage and there's palengkera outrage. you can tell a person's upbringing by hearing him talk in the midst of wrath.

get angry. be cautious. set yourself free.

sinfully sweet!

i just can't resist eating at least one whole column of cookies strategically packed and arranged by kraft foods!

i call this 'the michael jackson bait-box'

haha!

portable me

i have a carry-all bag that has my entire room stufffed unglamorously in it. i just can't leave home without it despite the unnecessary added weight on my shoulders. weddings are an exception of course!

when i'm out, i feel safe and complete. i've been to many places with just my comfortable outfit and my bag, and i've never experienced leaving something behind, say a set of triple A batteries for my toothbrush, and stressing over the fact that i've relied too many times on my unreliable memory.

i'm not a typical girl. true, i enjoy washing the dishes, but i'd give anything to have somebody do it for me so i can watch the 6 0'clock news on tv. i love reading, but by 4pm, my eyes are already dead beat. as a matter of fact, i'm squinting right now as i type this entry.

i can't stay put. i fidget in my seat. i have to make the smallest movement just to show i'm alive. our house allows me to be my usual disoriented self. it's big enough to accommodate and tolerate my every motion. i love it.

i love that my mom can't do many things without me. being 'needed' does wonders to my self esteem. sometimes, i get a kick out of washing the laundry and cleaning very dirty rooms. after all, part of being a beautiful woman is having a body that is strong enough to lift heavy furniture and dust off hard-to-reach areas at home.

just for kicks and only for the sake of being branded as indispensable, i'd be delighted to play 'irona'--richie rich's robot maid...with the same $5,000 salary to compensate for my efforts of course! hehe.

"ren" is a monikER

caring, loving, doting uncle, hoarder of oil and burner--

feeling, fearing, elevating to daring heights of wonder;

demanding, perceiving, sensing, deceiving piolo impostor--

flicker, monroe sticker, liquor and sodium hater;

maricel's charmer, madonna stalker, retired marlboro smoker--

dear brother--

healthy options endorser--

tough fighter--

a looker--

heart stopper--

no more whopper--

a toast to sobriety i offer--

plus facial toner;

oh big spender!

brother

dear forever

=)

if i were a snob...

my balenciaga motorcycle bag...




my time





dream louboutin pair




chanel blinding!

forever young

in my heart.

watch and learn

to be a farmer and a father...

back in the old days, families thrive on farming as the most basic and dependable means of livelihood. one hectare of land plump for cultivation is more than enough to raise a family of 5. plus the fact that mealtime is the best time for brewing surprises--you'll never know what your backyard has in store for lunch or dinner.



my dad was born and raised with a 'wooden' spoon. he wakes up very early in the morning to see to his and his siblings' breakfast. he would climb a coconut tree just to have something edible for lunch. he did most of the errands for his family, that's why his feet were dirty most of the time. this also explains why at a young age of 57, his hands are already dark and wrinkled. the sun was mean to farmers like him. but he remains to be the handsome debonair underneath the colorful caps he wears in intervals to parry the sun's rays.



nowadays, land is used on a more commercial scale. if you want to find vast tracts of well-cultivated land, you'd have to travel to far away provinces. but for me and my family, a bowl of bulanglang is only a few steps away. sili, kalamyas, papaya, malunggay, luya, calamansi and kamatis to name a few, are meticulously grown at our backyard.



my dad needs to have some 'activity' to last him throughout the day. being idle brings out his different illnesses rather furtively. from going to and from the market to washing the dishes (and clothes too!), his idea of a break is having a drinking spree with his childhood friends. my dad's a staunch probinsyano, he doesn't carry a balisong for nothing.



sometimes when i look at my dad, i want to cry. he looks older than usual. other fathers may have dark skin, but it's due nothing more to playing golf for hours. my vanity stretches out to him with a bottle of baby lotion, but it wouldn't soothe his already tired skin cells to maximum softness. my heart reaches out to him in silence...wondering where i've gone all these years and why i left my dad to endure the heat of the sun by his lonesome.



so i try to make up for my indolence by not missing mass (every thursdays and sundays), by washing the dishes (religiously after meals), and by making my lingering presence in this house known (clearing the clutter, washing my own clothes).



because of my dad, there's no tough measure of survival i can't brave. God knows how much i love my father, and how much pride i have in me for being his daughter.

i am my niece's voice coach

million dollar smile

i have heard a lot of stories about family struggles...i guess we've been through it all.

our standard of living has never really reached the point of outlandishness. growing up, i never had the chance to own a bag worth more than a pair of greg shoes. some would say expenses for basic necessities have weighed them down, but their luxury cars gave them away. some even parade in signature clothes and designer bags on their "tired" shoulders, complaining about how cruel life is...the "poor little rich girl" stories are indeed entertaining.


the true test of poverty does not have standards. to my mind, being poor is never relative. after going through very difficult times, i can safely say that of all the things we lacked, expensive watches, jewelry and signature clothes were never part of our common discontent. whereas, food on the table, soap and shampoo diluted our everyday hopeful disposition and emptied our shallow pockets. we didn't have enough resources to venture into profitable businesses. for us, it was indeed the height of ingenuousness.


it was only during law school when i learned how to really count my blessings. i fought with my heart a dozen times. i willed myself to want only the things we can afford...until the day came when buying leather bags and loafers was finally feasible. although i have whined about not having this and that, i was young then, and it was my lone excuse because my mom only had tenderness for me. she never said "no"...only "next time na lang, anak..."


soon after owning things we thought impossible, at last, my family decided to build a new home.


ain't life grand? come to think of it, i never did classify our family as "poor", although there was a time when i'd brave taking the quickest shower because there was not enough soap to last an hour's bath. there was no time to fret and grieve about not having the best things in life (the best "material" things, that is).


all that mattered to me was seeing my mom at the end of the day, having her usual glass of coke...looking radiant and beautiful as ever.


if i were to put a price tag on her smile, i'd even say we're filthy rich.

kitchen confidential

i spent one whole day with marge and her mom...

we had dinner at 6pm, and it was the best meal i've ever had for years! tita prepared chicken teriyaki and sauteed vegetables for 5 people. i tried my darnedest not to eat more than a cup of rice, but i failed!

i got so used to my dad's cooking--the usual crispy vegetables, inihaw and fried tilapia--i forgot how other people's take on the simplest chicken dish can manage to amaze my taste buds and create an impact on my appetite.

i asked marge how she manages to maintain her figure despite tita's flair for cooking...she then raved about eating anything she wants--anything her mom puts on the lazy susan--in small portions. now, why didn't i think of that? (note the sarcasm)

how can i possibly resist eating the evenly sliced white chicken meat marinated in teriyaki sauce and glazed with sesame seeds?

i guess one more cup of rice won't hurt...all for the love of tita's chicken teriyaki =)

at last...a truce!!!

a product of long arguments and compromises :)

the house that the foreman built

we have just finished arguing about the railings of the staircase...

my mom has the charm of a lioness. she's the queen of the jungle. her paws lovingly rest on anything made of mahogany. her mighty roar is a sign of disapproval...one that keeps the carpenters on their toes even on sundays (their designated day-off).

the country-style house is my mom's legacy. every bit of sand equals a pint of her sweat and tears. this "mixture" has been her trademark and salutation since time immemorial. i, for one, recognize the fact that i woudn't be typing these blog entries with much zing were it not for the sacrifices she went through only to give me and my siblings the best education possible.

but that didn't stop me from 'meddling' every now and then, especially when it involves interior (and exterior) design. i had to convince her (and sometimes, even beg her) to consider my taste if only to augment the savings.

we have been to citihardware more than 5 times already, and that's only within a month's time! i felt the need to accompany my mom because she doesn't have the patience nor any hint of practicality when it comes to being on the lookout for reasonably-priced, but elegant pieces. most of the time, though, we'd end up buying the things she wants not for expediency, but just for the love of getting what she ached to own for the longest time, but couldn't quite acquire due to lack of resources.

i have to hand it to her. she gets away with buying all the trinkets she wants without attracting too much objection from us. we merely concede. after all, he who has the power of the purse enjoys infallibility.

whenever my mom needs suggestions, she turns to kuya rodney, her ever dependable foreman, for advice. i swear i feel there's some sort of 'connivance' going on among the 3 of them (my mom, my dad, and the foreman).

so the stair railings would have to do... even though part of me wants to drive a bulldozer over it just to stress my point, hehe...

just kidding :)

just this one time

here's another song i wrote...
-------------------------------------------

If I reason with my heart
I know I’ll lose
it’s not everyday you get to choose
The one person to love

If I take that chance with you
I know you’ll say
It’s never safe to stay
In love with someone like you

But I reasoned with my heart and I reasoned
Hard enough
I’m not as buff
As Hercules
But if you would please
Listen…
To my dream love affair…
Deepen your stare and love me--
Just this one time.

If I find you a safe place
I know I’ll get lost
The journey back can cost
My entire lifetime and more

But I found you a home and I found
The best location
That on any occasion
The sun sets in your eyes
I don’t need to disguise
Behind courage and might—
You are my weakness.

I’ll take that chance
And make no demands
Except love me—
Just this one time.

my best beauty bets

must-try :)

crazy little thing

one of my flawless friends got hitched last sunday. the groom and cris belong to the same fraternity. it was a beautiful and solemn garden wedding that tweaked my take on lavish ceremonies gradually to become a full blown but coy conversion. the most romantic part of their love story is that they've been together for 6 years already...

long engagements usually call to motion red tongues of telling break-ups and reconciliations. it's either the guy doesn't love the girl too much to make him pop that question earlier than expected (2 years in the relationship?) or there's just not enough oil to get the engine running. it's a toss up between love and budget. the love is almost always there.

i can imagine saving up for something as lucrative as photography or scuba diving, but not for 500 eating guests in formal wear. i always thought the groom decides on the entire reception package and the bride takes care of the head count (haha!)...this much abused "set-up" tilts the scale of the supposed symmetry of love and finances in favor of the girl under the peevish veil. it's her wedding and she'll cry if she wants to :)

the songs played were heart-tuggers indeed. the bride walked down the aisle with unreserved grace, and slowly marched to match her steps with the notes of "through the years". their first dance as husband and wife was the exact stupefying opposite of their mellow entrance. "low, low, low, low...." defeated michael buble's wedding album.

the pastor tried hard to inject humor in his sermon, but the lovebirds croaked in tears in between bible verses. when they exchanged vows, their voices moved me. to think that i've seen this type of wedding scene more than 50 times on tv!

i wasn't prepared for the sudden avalanche of emotions...

i guess i'll never be.

the emancipation of gypsy

the civil code used to have provisions on emancipation. but these codal articles did not go beyond specifying the age and circumstances of emancipation. it confined the life of a minor to Mister Magorium's Wonder Emporium (Neverland's counterpart on earth), rather deceptively. The family code did nothing more than underline my contention.

I would like to think that i have gone far and beyond minority in terms of discernment, outlook and judgment. but persistent "strings" keep pulling my age back to a confusing impasse that can sometimes be frustrating. i needed some soul-searching...and where else can a 31-year-old lass like me find the safest place in the universe? nowhere but home (note the sarcasm in my tone).

i have been to very few parties throughout my career as a wandering "philanthropist". i used to love being around people. the idea of organizing a small group of sophisticated women used to excite me. back then, everyone seemed available especially during weekends. i would round them up through a single text message (using the 'send to many' cellphone feature) and get 100% response after only a few minutes. it was one easy job i never begged off from doing.

times have indeed changed. my girlfriends can no longer find time for spontaneous get-togethers. they would have to squeeze in a couple of hours just to talk on the phone and catch up on the latest. my (irksome) predicament pales in comparison to their very busy schedules. i have more than enough time for social events, but my parents won't let me go out even for coffee! i'm doomed to wallow in boredom and desolation.

as i type this entry, i stagger through webs and tangles of letters that i wish would come to life so i could have someone to laugh and converse with. my monitor is a reflection of an ageing spinster (knock on wood) locked up inside a magical "fortress" (where i can eat and sleep whenever i want, but without freedom of locomotion).

i'm looking for the kindest soul who has the guts to file a habeas corpus petition so i can stop sending "i miss you" messages to cris and to my friends.

but with my parents as jurors, it would really take a courageous bear before i can even bring myself to hear the gavel bang in my favor.

i'm just kidding, but you can always take me seriously :)

for mr. poon

I got busted

I got busted
Staring at you by the parking lot
The one reserved slot
From the grocery lane
I was taking my time
Pushing my cart further to isle 39

What a grand embarrassment!
I denied you were ever in my heart’s compartment
The only department
Where you belong…
with this love song


I was in harm’s way that time and you saved me.
How can I not feel a thing for my savior?
My one endeavor
is to endear you
To me…


***Hiding it has been a royal pain
But I can’t complain
When thoughts of you help me get through the day…
I got busted
And guilty? I am.

Am I a secretive fool for lying? For not telling
How you send Christmas bells to my ears each time
I get a ticket for speeding your highway
I got busted
And foolish? I am.

I can honestly say
half of the way is one hell of a climb
But with you at the top
all i could think of

are water and hay

keep on fanning the flames of
this hostile fire
my heart would expire

if you walk away...

please look my way

from then and today

i would gladly say...

I got busted
What a relief
I got busted
No more mischief
I got busted

And guilty? I am…

the beekeepers

the idea of talking about others behind their backs no longer thrills me. at the outset, girlfriends have more fun during spur-of-the-moment reunions when they binge on salad and gossip. but the typical chitchat transforms into bitternes, and becomes too heavy to even listen to. before you know it, you've lost and destroyed every bit of compassion and strong character you used to rave about having.

it's not easy to wriggle out of a chance to scoff at your enemies. when others share a different kind of hatred towards the people you so despise, you tend to embrace the moment and without much reluctance, join the group of backstabbers. later on, you'd schedule another get-together only to talk about the same people again, but with more pizzazz.

that's why it's sometimes hard to fit in. i've realized, some would only seek the opportunity to get to know the obscure part of your personality only to use the info against you and spoil all your chances to redeem yourself by telling all your friends (and those inside your prospective circle) about your past fits of imprudence. nothing but your own dose of bad medicine.

if you don't want others to get the better of you, you have to become conscious about their feelings too. always mind the gap that separates your private life from them. you'd be keeping more friendships this way.

i should know. i've been through the same a lot of times...and i'm never joining the bandwagon again. if you really feel strongly about rearranging your friends' cosmos, take off that silly mask.

the diary of a madman

need i say more?

cold summer nights

for months now, we've been experiencing unusual cold days and nights. unusual because this is the first time the chilly breeze decided to linger long after christmas. it's mid-january and it's still freezing! brrr...

this is the perfect time for reading novels and watching old movies. i have extracted careless thumbprints on maya angelou's collection of beautiful poems (my own), and reading it for the nth time gave justice to the cold weather that embraced my feet and wanton hands. typing this entry has never been more challenging. the nippy wind keeps blowing towards my entire left profile. our windows cannot be shut without employing a tremendous amount of force, and the only personality (with strong hands) who can do the job is my dad. he's upstairs, reading dan brown.

i have yet to think of something warmer to wear to last me for the entire night. my toes are turning purple :) but surprisingly, i found myself enjoying the intermittent puffs of cold air, hitting my face to the rhythm of linda ronstadt's blue bayou. even the stray cats outside our house looked restless. i have not heard any banging sound on the roof for weeks now. and i thought cat fur was enough to temper the arctic shift on this year's climate.

my mom wears a blue shawl to cover her neck and arms. she clings on them tightly while watching the bitter news on tv. somewhere in manila, a group of prosecutors are experiencing a different kind of winter in their own homes thanks to the makeshift snow machines donated by johnny midnight. further in alabang, a group of boys are taking much pleasure in the cold baths especially prepared for them by the warden.

aaaah...the chilly breeze of swift justice! :) i hope it's here to stay.

the "busy" bee

funny how a fat "income" can turn your life around--literally. it's one word that can make me turn cartwheels in high heels. no matter how plainly defined the word income is --flow of wealth-- no adage can make man's love for money disappear (money can't buy me love; the root of all evil...).

i have spent 3 whole days job hunting with friends. it was so tiring! the part where i had to find the right pair of platforms to complete my corporate look made it more arduous. of course, you have to make a good impression. in this department, i know i have matured. i keep a decent collection of pencil-cut and A-line skirts (below the knee). solid-colored shirts are a hit. whites and navy blues are indispensable to achieving a classic look.

spontaneity is the key to impressing the HR assistant who would most likely spend the whole 15 minutes sizing up your wardrobe, and the next few hours waiting for you to mispronounce a word or mix-up your grammar. if you're into memorizing, make sure you don't force the lines into your sentence unless they're really relevant. otherwise, you'd end up sounding like a parrot mimicking a talking glossy magazine (cosmopolitan, metro and...uhm good housekeeping perhaps?).

it's like explaining yourself to a shrink whose license has just expired. personality tests are usually given by top corporations with money to spend on risograph machines. why do they even bother? we all know how inaccurate the results can get considering the allowance for "honesty" and the freedom given to an applicant (precisely to manipulate his scores and yield a psychological readiness to perform the job). where else can you get a rating of 10 for accountability and punctuality? oops, i'm way too cynical for this type of blog entry :) so i'll just end this paragraph by confining the downside of psychological evaluations to factual errors.

marvin (muyot), the willing victim who drove us to ayala's very busy streets, was too excited to notice the speck of ketchup slime on his collar and hear the pitch of his own trembling voice when he got up to follow the voice that came from the empty hall that led to the spooky interview booth. it was like a silent battle...really! the villain lurks behind the transient office walls and slumps on the black leather chair once you reach the threshold to his own office space--the space that says "i hold the key to your future". but in reality, he is the same small guy who got a beating from the campus bully in 3rd grade.

our only reward after 3 grueling hours of waiting for our turn to be interviewed was the much awaited FT (food trip). the idea of spending way too much on milkshakes and dinner--without actually feeling guilty--can calm an anxious interviewee's nerves like no other. but nothing beats dad's tinola...more than the soothing prickle it sends to my nerves, the fact that it's free does wonders to my grief-stricken career as a happy job hunter with a big appetite.

i'm so glad to be home! :)

the humble bee

i am a fairly odd godparent to chino, cris' nephew, Cj, ibeth's panganay and joaquin, jonas' only son.

i know my responsibility goes way beyond giving pakimkim and gift-wrapped toys, though these are usually the things that they expect from their godparents. it's something i wish filipino culture would go easy on. wisdom should replace battery-operated cars and machine guns.

...and so the saga begins...

if i were to leave something behind for my inaanaks, i would filter my best bottle of sand granules and trap only the hardest earned lessons in my hand before everything trickles to the ground, neglected.

i'd tell them about h-u-m-i-l-i-t-y.

the greatest lessons in life are those that are learned the hard way. although our parents give us the best pieces of advice, we remain accountable for our own actions, especially when we get past the age of 9--the age of discernment.

i got my humility lessons that "fateful day"... i was 29 and clueless.

my mom said, a simple show of arrogance will bring your reputation to eternal damnation. people will brand you as "the arrogant neighbor" 'til your last breath, and you wouldn't know of it until you realize, the same group of people, belonging to the noveau riche circle, graces your lavish parties and raids your cocktails, while the people you truly care about are out attending your family reunion.

life is unfair. it can turn bad luck into good fortune and good fortunte into misery. it's not coincidence, it's fate. once you generate a considerable amount of knowledge, or anything tangible that is worth getting envious for, people will start scrutinizing your new lifestyle. one wrong move would earn either an approval or a stamp on the forehead that says "snob" in green ink.

so how do you go about living a blessed life without losing your patrons? by being humble and discreet. what with the number of awards your son or daughter has won in oratorical and essay writing contests, he/she would have enough legacy to rub onto his/her own children--your grandchildren--but not enough audience to make any sincere remark about how great your kids really are, and how much they're looking forward to seeing them succeed in life.

there would always be room for bitterness...and this is startlingly exasperating.

people are just so hard to please! but pleasing others should be at the bottom of your list. you should know that people would only positively and genuinely react if they've seen you at your worst. but it's good to have self-assessment as part of your quarterly (if not daily) routine. in this type of evaluation, nothing's more worse than realizing that indeed, you are the arrogant, egotistical, rich and famous man they despise.

so next christmas, i'd tell my godsons about humility, and hope that they would not look beyond my wisdom and frisk me for hidden goodies after the sermon :)

keep the faith

here is a beautiful prayer sent to me via email by my aunt, sr. tita pamplona...

"Lord, this is the last day of an old year. I stand before you like a piling under a wharf that has gathered unsightly barnacles and debris. Lord, today, clean out my life and make me fit to walk into a new year, clean and unencumbered. Scrape from my heart the burdensome barnacles of all my botches and bungling. Strip from my life all the unbecoming garments of pride, arrogance and ego. As a gardener, O Lord, pull from my life today all that is unbecoming; all the weeks and months of worry; the roots of resistance; the burgeoning briers of bullheadedness and the vines of vexation.

Before the New Year arrives, disinfect the dirtiness of my deeds, destroy the detestable, destructive debris of my life, clear from my agenda all that is mundane, mediocre and moldy. Peel from my spirit, O Lord, all the layers of lewdness, lusting and lying. Scrub away, O God, all that is sullied, stained, septic and soiled.

Repaint today, O Lord, my faded walls; restore just now my voice; unstop my tongue to speak your praise; wash away the haze that I may see you lifted up. Remove from my life this day, Lord all that is small, rebellious, obstinate and unsurrendered to you.

Sweep out of my life all that is unimportant, unnecessary, unnatural and all that is ugly. Clear my mind of all thinking that is negative and unproductive. Breathe into me the fresh breath of your Spirit and rib me with the steel of your courage to face the New Year with a dogged determination to stand at the center of your will all the way through. Give me eyes to see beyond the physical, ears to hear beyond the audible, hands to touch hurting people, feet to speed to those in need, eyes to see those opportunities Lord that you see. Lord, I pull the shade on an old year and raise the shade to a new one. Grant me wisdom to walk with you and NOT LOOK BACK EVER.

Amen."

the (wo)man who saved the world

i can't recall the number of times i feigned sickness just so i won't be dragged out of bed by my sister, who was always so eager to ride the 8am bus to batangas. i have spent half of my life in manila. my "independence" was not forced. it was a necessity back then when my mom made it clear (15 years ago) she'd do anything to give us the kind of quality education only the schools in manila can offer (a lot of people still think that manila is the best place to earn yourself a decent degree).

law school came and it gave me another veritable excuse not to go home. i don't know why, but the idea of going back to the place i grew up in irked the hell out of me. i was evading my dad's wake up calls and mom's doting presence. the only thing i looked forward to was dad's cooking. so i'd agree to come home only to indulge in 2 of life's guilty pleasures: inihaw na liempo and bulanglang.

then the time came when i had to come home and leave manila--for good.

i have been here (in batangas) for almost 4 months now, but 1 whole, solid day with my parents was all it took to stir my senses and tame the gravity that has kept my faculties up and away from the idea of sleeping in my distressed yellow room--to actually stay and to experience more than just a fleeting moment of nostalgia with the help of my old books and photos.

i was so ashamed of myself for coercing my sister to hold the cudgels for me while i bathed in manila air the whole time. i may have spent my years wisely on education, but i never thought i'd be just as naive and self-centered as a day old baby! (nag-aral pa ako sa lagay na yan ha).

each day with my parents is bliss; each day, a blessing. i realized, each day that i was away from them was a struggle. my stay here has allowed me to discover the things that i took for granted before. the mother-daughter bonding, cooking lessons with dad, and the familiar bashings i get from both of them for waking up late. even my dad's daily dose of hurtful words and scoldings are now music to my ears!

during one of our late night chikahans, my mom shared one heart-breaking routine of hers: she'd wait outside of our house (and stay there for hours--until she sees an aircon bus infront of our gate) the minute she gets off the phone with ate len telling her "ma, we're on our way home."

this goes out to all of you who think independence means forgetting the "better (if not the best) part" of oneself and leaving it all behind to seek for greener pasture--the very part of you that has turned your parents into insomniacs overnight.

it's time to collect your thoughts and pin them onto corkboards so you won't forget that when you left for school, you left behind two persons who'd put their lives on the line for you just so you can find your self-worth in a place that can make or break you...and that two people were willing enough to sacrifice spending the days with you just so you won't catch them in the act of rummaging through the crevices of their wallets just to give you your week's allowance.

i have only ate len to thank for rousing me out of deep slumber and for teaching me that each day spent away from my mom and dad may mean sorrow, but one that we no longer have to endure from now on.