Saturday, January 31, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
How to Read a Poem
...
when I recall how I've dipped tenderness
into blood, into that never startled
soundless heartblood of things so loved
Toledo, November 1912
p. 25, Rainer Maria Rilke: Uncollected Poems
translated by Edward Snow
Revisiting Rilke, I realized that I'd almost forgotten how achingly beautiful poetry can be--how reading the words make images float, leaving one transfixed after taking them in.
Someone once told me, "teach me how to read this poem," and I said, "I cannot teach, nor show you, how to read poetry. You have to learn it on your own, and that would mean a lifetime of reading. Got that? A lifetime. Read. Drink the words in, turn them over in your mind, sketch and paint them in the colors that they speak to you. You may, or may not, see the story there is in the poem, the nuances in the language, the gradations in its meaning; your well of experiences, in turn, will be the scale that will measure the depth with which it speaks to you. Read, read the words, and love them. And then you would have taught yourself poetry."
when I recall how I've dipped tenderness
into blood, into that never startled
soundless heartblood of things so loved
Toledo, November 1912
p. 25, Rainer Maria Rilke: Uncollected Poems
translated by Edward Snow
Revisiting Rilke, I realized that I'd almost forgotten how achingly beautiful poetry can be--how reading the words make images float, leaving one transfixed after taking them in.
Someone once told me, "teach me how to read this poem," and I said, "I cannot teach, nor show you, how to read poetry. You have to learn it on your own, and that would mean a lifetime of reading. Got that? A lifetime. Read. Drink the words in, turn them over in your mind, sketch and paint them in the colors that they speak to you. You may, or may not, see the story there is in the poem, the nuances in the language, the gradations in its meaning; your well of experiences, in turn, will be the scale that will measure the depth with which it speaks to you. Read, read the words, and love them. And then you would have taught yourself poetry."
Rabbit at Rest
"A & P," Rabbit, Run--I will best remember John Updike for this story and this novel.
He was one of the most prolific writers who lived and the Literary World will surely mourn his passing.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Lit Geek Update #10
Last book I read: Soledad's Sister by Jose Dalisay
This book ended my (relatively) long reading hiatus. Poring through its first page at a bookstore roused my slumbering lust for print on paper. I finished the novel in a jiffy because putting it down without having read it to the last page was difficult. The pepper was as much the absurdity of the image of a dead woman in an erroneously labeled casket brought home aboard a plane and the numerous, similarly absurd stories it brings together to its unlikely wake, as the author's signature masterful hand at language, plot and characterization. Butch Dalisay is "old school"-- and it is a school all lovers of Philippine Literature had better keep themselves in.
For some strange reason, the book made me think briefly of George Eliot's Middlemarch, what with the seemingly random lives that really interlace, the vivid introspection of life's sad ludicrousness and the seamlessness with which the novel's junctures are brought together.
The caustic wit and humor are all Dalisay's own.
What I'm reading now: Babel Tower by A.S. Byatt
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Revisiting Rilke
For I don't think back; all that I am
stirs me because of you. I don't invent you
at sadly cooled-off places from which
you've gone away; even your not being there
is warm with you and more real and more
than a privation. Longing leads out too often
into vagueness. Why should I cast myself,
when, for all I know, your influence falls on me,
gently, like moonlight on a window seat.
Duino, late autumn 1911
p. 15
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Wanted: Ella
Been scouring Amazon for Ella Fitzgerald albums. Oh, but there are just so many that I like!
Pure Ella: The Very Best of Ella Fitzgerald
Oh, Lady, Be Good! Best of the Gershwin Songbook
The Best of the Song Books: The Ballads
And these ain't even half of 'em yet!
Pure Ella: The Very Best of Ella Fitzgerald
Oh, Lady, Be Good! Best of the Gershwin Songbook
The Best of the Song Books: The Ballads
And these ain't even half of 'em yet!
Tequila, Sheena Easton, Caldereta
I am 28 years old; in a couple of months, I'll be 29.
Last night, over at Mae's place, I had my first taste of Tequila. Can you believe spending 28 long years in this planet and never having had Tequila?
Tequila made me grab the mic and sing Sheena Easton's "For Your Eyes Only."
I woke up this morning with a headache. I guess Tequila doesn't agree with me. Made me belt out the above James Bond theme, though. And I remember grinning stupidly for most of the night.
I turned in early. I really am so not the "let's-party-and-get-drunk" type.
The caldereta was awesome. I should have had more.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Soledad's Sister Over Coffee
I dropped by Greenbelt's Powerbooks yesterday and, instinctively, found my way to the Filipiniana section (love your own!). I spent quite some time browsing through Dean Alfar's A Kite of Stars, making a mental note to buy it the next time I visited a bookstore. I was still, due to time constraints brought on by work, in a reading hiatus and knew that I had to practice restraint if I didn't want one more book to gather dust on the shelf.
I gazed around to look at the other titles, saw a copy of Butch Dalisay's Soledad's Sister on a nearby shelf, picked it up, read the first page, checked the cash in my wallet and promptly headed to the cashier.
So much for restraint. It was just too good to resist.
I read a fourth of it at a nearby Starbucks (the lighting was poor, but I didn't care), sparing a couple of minutes to preach to my friend (who's not that into Philippine Lit.) that he should read the book I was reading if he wanted his opinion of Filipino writers to change. "Read Dalisay, for heaven's sake. This book was shortlisted for the Man Asian Literary Prize!" I told him and, satisfied that I had made my point, happily slouched back into my chair to read.
Guess this means the reading is on again. And, boy, does it feel awfully good!
Happy Birthday, Mommy
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“Youth fades, love droops, the leaves of friendship fall; a mother's secret hope outlives them all.”
-Oliver Wendell Holmes
Thursday, January 22, 2009
More Mercury Retrograde Spoils
Last night, in the office, everyone was going crazy over how much work there was for us, as the on-shore team had sent word that they were experiencing "heavy" technical difficulties. As if we didn't have enough system issues, ourselves.
I spent much of the day running around, making sure that everything was in place.
And the rest of the time, I preached about how all these shit was happening because of Mercury Retrograde.
By now, I've pretty much become a pseudo-expert at explaining the said phenomenon to people who were interested enough to listen. And you'd be surprised at their number.
I'd loudly put the blame on Mercury Retrograde and then someone (or two, or three) would go, "Mercury what?" And then I'd launch into an exposition of what it is and then, prodded on by the interest in their eyes, I'd give examples of actual incidents related to it and then they'd go, "really?" and I'd go on some more.
La-la-la.
Thank heavens it's the start of my weekend.
Don't buy a new cell phone just yet, folks. Wait 'til February 2nd.
Happy Thursday!
:)
I spent much of the day running around, making sure that everything was in place.
And the rest of the time, I preached about how all these shit was happening because of Mercury Retrograde.
By now, I've pretty much become a pseudo-expert at explaining the said phenomenon to people who were interested enough to listen. And you'd be surprised at their number.
I'd loudly put the blame on Mercury Retrograde and then someone (or two, or three) would go, "Mercury what?" And then I'd launch into an exposition of what it is and then, prodded on by the interest in their eyes, I'd give examples of actual incidents related to it and then they'd go, "really?" and I'd go on some more.
La-la-la.
Thank heavens it's the start of my weekend.
Don't buy a new cell phone just yet, folks. Wait 'til February 2nd.
Happy Thursday!
:)
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Movie on my mind: Slumdog Millionaire
Ignorant fool that I was, I had fully expected a "small" film, so the grand scale of the movie that greeted me (and lingered long) was anything but. The vividness of the story was breathtaking (the squalor! the beauty!) and the path it took certainly had me glued (very Dickensian, according to a friend).
I had no plans of watching and was, initially, just taking peeks at the screen, but the poetic depiction of the ugliness in the brutal, truer-than-life scenes--slaughter, the slums, hunger, crime--turned the peeks to awe-struck (no exaggeration intended) attention. And the rest, as they say, is history.
The unconventional treatment of the material and the cinematic effects employed were some of the tell-tale signs that it was fiction. The acting, though, was so superb, it didn't seem like acting, at all. Until now, I am still prodded to ask whether, indeed, Dev Patel, et al, were really just acting.
(Dev Patel as "Jamal Malik" and Freida Pinto as "Latika")
Could it have been their lives that were being lived in those frames?
(Director Danny Boyle and actress Freida Pinto)
This Danny Boyle film deserved its Golden Globe Award and you'll definitely be missing a lot if you don't watch it.
So, go. Watch. Now.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Tagaytay Friday
Friday, January 17, 2009: It was freezing in Tagaytay and my team braved the cold... but only for so long.
Philstar.com says, "Tagaytay City temperature is 15.8 degrees Celsius" and Chuvaness contemplates the extra chilly weather "...in what must be the coldest night of the year." And we had chosen this day, of all days, to go up the highlands! Brrrr!
@ Picnic Grove: It was tolerably chilly in the early afternoon.
And we stuffed ourselves silly with Amber's pichi-pichi and barbecue.
The wind started to get really fierce as the afternoon wore on, though.
And the wind blew on, angrier, as evening drew near. My hair became extremely tangled you could hear the crunch when I combed it.
Solution: a cap. (My cam was acting up at this point)
Tagaytay by twilight. Photography by Wowoo Rañada.
Dinner at Dencio's capped the night for some. Here, Val and Cha were prodding me to look serene for a candid shot. In truth, I was shivering to my bones. Through chattering teeth, I was muttering, "hurry up! Shoot already!"
The real night cap was coffee at Starbucks. By then, though, we were too cold to take pics and one of us asked, in jest, of course, "is this Tagaytay or Alaska?"
Imagine what the Eskimos' life must be like!
Philstar.com says, "Tagaytay City temperature is 15.8 degrees Celsius" and Chuvaness contemplates the extra chilly weather "...in what must be the coldest night of the year." And we had chosen this day, of all days, to go up the highlands! Brrrr!
@ Picnic Grove: It was tolerably chilly in the early afternoon.
And we stuffed ourselves silly with Amber's pichi-pichi and barbecue.
The wind started to get really fierce as the afternoon wore on, though.
And the wind blew on, angrier, as evening drew near. My hair became extremely tangled you could hear the crunch when I combed it.
Solution: a cap. (My cam was acting up at this point)
Tagaytay by twilight. Photography by Wowoo Rañada.
Dinner at Dencio's capped the night for some. Here, Val and Cha were prodding me to look serene for a candid shot. In truth, I was shivering to my bones. Through chattering teeth, I was muttering, "hurry up! Shoot already!"
The real night cap was coffee at Starbucks. By then, though, we were too cold to take pics and one of us asked, in jest, of course, "is this Tagaytay or Alaska?"
Imagine what the Eskimos' life must be like!
Friday, January 16, 2009
I Love: Escada Moon Sparkle
From nordstrom.com:
Escada 'Moon Sparkle' Eau de Toilette Spray -- A fruity floral fragrance, with sparkling strawberry and red apple notes. Top notes: strawberry, blackcurrant, citrus cocktail, red apple. Middle notes: sweet pea, freesia, jasmine, rose. Base notes: raspberry, musky notes, sandalwood, dry ambery notes.
Could it be Mercury Retrograde?
PCs in the office have been going bonkers, with people complaining about system issues coming up more frequently than before. I'd usually shrug it off and say "must be Mercury Retrograde. Restart and if it doesn't work, call IT and use a different PC in the meantime."
And they'd usually go, like, "Mercury what?"
As per Dictionary.com, the word "retrograde," in astrology, means: a. moving in an orbit in the direction opposite to that of the earth in its revolution around the sun; or b. appearing to move on the celestial sphere in the direction opposite to the natural order of the signs of the zodiac, or from east to west.
According to astrologyweekly.com, Mercury goes retrograde 3 times a year, with each event lasting for 3 weeks; one such event is happening now, from from January 11, 2009 to February 1, 2009. The site further has this to say about the phenomenon:
"Mercury rules over the mind's processes, studying, communication, businesses, travels and the like. When Mercury reverses its direction, all these areas are affected as well.
The mind turns naturally inwards and people tend to analyze more the own thoughts and follow the common thinking patterns, rather then be curious and eager of new intellectual experiences or challenges. This helps the meditation or the thorough lonely long-term study of a specific matter, but it affects the study of new subjects, the communication with the others, the attention oriented outwards.
Businesses, travels and communications tend to experience delays and different problems. Computers and other processes that work with information may experience crashes, unexpected failures.
Don't enroll to courses, don't buy expensive Mercurian items (books, cars, mobile phones etc.), don't sign important contracts and do not marry."
Cool.
Except that things have been happening lately that made me think twice about this "phenomenon" (is it the real thing?). Aside from the unusually slow PCs in the work place, a friend's PS2 recently conked out on him. My Dad mentioned that their PC at home isn't working. Plus, it's been especially difficult to turn my mind toward positive thinking (not that this is new, though, but the level of difficulty has noticeably gone up, and I am not pleased).
Be warned, then. Should either your phone or your significant other start going berserk, don't be surprised.
It's Mercury Retrograde.
And they'd usually go, like, "Mercury what?"
As per Dictionary.com, the word "retrograde," in astrology, means: a. moving in an orbit in the direction opposite to that of the earth in its revolution around the sun; or b. appearing to move on the celestial sphere in the direction opposite to the natural order of the signs of the zodiac, or from east to west.
According to astrologyweekly.com, Mercury goes retrograde 3 times a year, with each event lasting for 3 weeks; one such event is happening now, from from January 11, 2009 to February 1, 2009. The site further has this to say about the phenomenon:
"Mercury rules over the mind's processes, studying, communication, businesses, travels and the like. When Mercury reverses its direction, all these areas are affected as well.
The mind turns naturally inwards and people tend to analyze more the own thoughts and follow the common thinking patterns, rather then be curious and eager of new intellectual experiences or challenges. This helps the meditation or the thorough lonely long-term study of a specific matter, but it affects the study of new subjects, the communication with the others, the attention oriented outwards.
Businesses, travels and communications tend to experience delays and different problems. Computers and other processes that work with information may experience crashes, unexpected failures.
Don't enroll to courses, don't buy expensive Mercurian items (books, cars, mobile phones etc.), don't sign important contracts and do not marry."
Cool.
Except that things have been happening lately that made me think twice about this "phenomenon" (is it the real thing?). Aside from the unusually slow PCs in the work place, a friend's PS2 recently conked out on him. My Dad mentioned that their PC at home isn't working. Plus, it's been especially difficult to turn my mind toward positive thinking (not that this is new, though, but the level of difficulty has noticeably gone up, and I am not pleased).
Be warned, then. Should either your phone or your significant other start going berserk, don't be surprised.
It's Mercury Retrograde.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Lovin' Amel Larrieux
In one of my web-surfing frenzies, I discovered American indie soul and R&B singer-songwriter Amel Larrieux's music and, eventually, I got hooked. I can't get enough of her album Lovely Standards (my faves are "If I Loved You," "Younger Than Springtime," "Shadow of Your Smile," and "Something Wonderful"). Equally addictive are Infinite Possibilites ("Infinite Possibilities" and "Make Me Whole") and Morning ("No One Else"), which is her highest-charting album to date.
Larrieux is jazz and R & B and funk, an artist to reckon with, one of mah gurlz, a gem of a musical find.
Try her.
:)
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Another Win
Last night, I collected my prize for another bet I had recently won against one of my favorite opponents in debates, Wowoo. The deal was that if I won, he was gonna buy me coffee, so I asked for a tall (I should have asked for grande, darn it) cup of Starbucks latte in White Mocha Mocha.
We were arguing, last Saturday, about The 38th Parallel, the dividing line between North and South Korea. Wowoo said its name was "38th degrees Parallel" while I stuck to my guns with "The 38th Parallel."
Oh, how sweet victory is.
And bragging rights, sweeter.
:)
We were arguing, last Saturday, about The 38th Parallel, the dividing line between North and South Korea. Wowoo said its name was "38th degrees Parallel" while I stuck to my guns with "The 38th Parallel."
Oh, how sweet victory is.
And bragging rights, sweeter.
:)
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Lovin' Angie Stone
Today I discovered Angie Stone's 2007 album The Art of Love and War and am currently falling in love with it.
From Amazon:
"There's something of the Barry White's and the Marvin Gayes', the Aretha Franklin's and the Stevie Wonder's about the musical arrangements, but she avoids the nostalgia pitfall, and makes cool classy sensational soul music for a new generation.
This album -- sure to be marked down as one of the year's most genuinely soulful -- is consistently good throughout but highlights are The steppers "Baby", featuring Betty Wright, the duet beat ballad "Half A Chance'" and the hypnotic mid tempo "Make It last" are all excellent on this great album."
Some of my favorite tracks: "Take Everything In," "Play With it" and "Wait For Me."
Benjamin Button
Fitzgerald's 1921 short story is much more poignant and infinitely sadder than the movie.
I loved both, though a friend and I agreed that the film needed some cutting down on some parts.
Read and watch!
Monday, January 12, 2009
Goodbye, Gimli
My brothers' Dachshund, Gimli, died today of Kidney failure. He was confined in the animal clinic for 3 days, where he, according to my Dad, fought bravely.
He will be missed.
He was loved, was a source of delight to my kids, and I'm almost sure my brother, Earl, shed tears for the little creature, in the same way that he cried when his beloved Golden Retriever, Neo, died some years ago.
Farewell!
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Marvelous Mac and Cheese
I did a double-take when I saw this mac-and-cheese pic over at ontheflyingtrapeze. And there's a recipe, to boot.
Mouth-watering!
Looking at the picture made me crave for mac and cheese but the closest I could have was a bag of chiz curls (shaped like macaroni and coated with cheese). lol
Mouth-watering!
Looking at the picture made me crave for mac and cheese but the closest I could have was a bag of chiz curls (shaped like macaroni and coated with cheese). lol
Snagged: How to Dress Like a French Woman
There's this ultra chic post from Joanna about a recent correspondence she had with Garancedore, which I couldn't resist posting here. It's a delightful exchange (Q and A) about what makes the French woman different, about what makes the French woman. Period.
Stuff like: having a penchant for wearing stripes, black and gray; the love for clothes-layering; the choice to wear their hair long; being partial to wearing jeans, skirts and dresses over leggings; choosing heels over flats (loved this bit!); how to achieve "that French je ne sais quoi."
Not that I have a secret longing to be French, though. I just find them tres chic et mystérieux!
Isn't this illustration just lovely?
Click on the links! They're both superb bloggers.
;p
Stuff like: having a penchant for wearing stripes, black and gray; the love for clothes-layering; the choice to wear their hair long; being partial to wearing jeans, skirts and dresses over leggings; choosing heels over flats (loved this bit!); how to achieve "that French je ne sais quoi."
Not that I have a secret longing to be French, though. I just find them tres chic et mystérieux!
Isn't this illustration just lovely?
Click on the links! They're both superb bloggers.
;p
Friday, January 9, 2009
Shoes-ing: The death of the favorite pair
This morning, I woke up with the darkest, most hideous-looking under-eye circles ever. I mean, I've always had dark circles under my eyes but today's were fabulously ash gray! Oh, but the rice-Spanish sardines-white bagoong from Bicol combo breakfast made me forget them for a while. Yummy! (oh, but the pounds, ulk!)
Anyway, the above was a totally unrelated topic to the true subject of my post, which is something I had meant to blog about for the longest time, but just never came around to actually doing so. I'm talking about my all-time favorite shoes, which died a few weeks ago. They were actually dying many months before but I was in such a state of denial that I refused to acknowledge this fact and insisted on still wearing them even if they must've already been crying in agony for rest.
See, this Janilyn pair has been with me for years and years now and we've been through so many ups and downs together, seen tough times and happy times, rain and shine. I mean, we haven't always been the best of friends (the first few times I wore them, my feet spelled pain and blisters) but after the breaking-in period, everything became smooth-flowing. This pair had been my salvation whenever I found myself late for work and with no time to look for the shoes that matched my outfit as it looks good with practically anything.
I must've worn them to death, and now they're dead. Dead as dead can be, with no hope of ever coming back.
Just two weeks ago, I tried them on after dressing up, thinking, maybe it'll still work, just one last time. But sadly, when I slipped them on, I had the horrible feeling that the shoes were about to crumble so I gave up. Finally.
So I bought myself a new pair with the same color to make the grieving period a little easier.
It's a Charles and Keith pair, this time.
(left-the dead shoes; right-the new pair)
And while we're on the subject of shoes, the holidays brought me 4 pairs (3 pumps from Charles and Keith and dirt-cheap lace-up espadrilles from Artwork).
The maroon pair on the right was a gift from my co-wroker and dear, dear friend, Sheila. I love!
I still miss my old fave, though. But I know I have to move on, and move on, I will.
Anyway, the above was a totally unrelated topic to the true subject of my post, which is something I had meant to blog about for the longest time, but just never came around to actually doing so. I'm talking about my all-time favorite shoes, which died a few weeks ago. They were actually dying many months before but I was in such a state of denial that I refused to acknowledge this fact and insisted on still wearing them even if they must've already been crying in agony for rest.
See, this Janilyn pair has been with me for years and years now and we've been through so many ups and downs together, seen tough times and happy times, rain and shine. I mean, we haven't always been the best of friends (the first few times I wore them, my feet spelled pain and blisters) but after the breaking-in period, everything became smooth-flowing. This pair had been my salvation whenever I found myself late for work and with no time to look for the shoes that matched my outfit as it looks good with practically anything.
I must've worn them to death, and now they're dead. Dead as dead can be, with no hope of ever coming back.
Just two weeks ago, I tried them on after dressing up, thinking, maybe it'll still work, just one last time. But sadly, when I slipped them on, I had the horrible feeling that the shoes were about to crumble so I gave up. Finally.
So I bought myself a new pair with the same color to make the grieving period a little easier.
It's a Charles and Keith pair, this time.
(left-the dead shoes; right-the new pair)
And while we're on the subject of shoes, the holidays brought me 4 pairs (3 pumps from Charles and Keith and dirt-cheap lace-up espadrilles from Artwork).
The maroon pair on the right was a gift from my co-wroker and dear, dear friend, Sheila. I love!
I still miss my old fave, though. But I know I have to move on, and move on, I will.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
This Post is For Wowoo
...who, knowing how addicted I am to coffee, gave me this nice little Starbucks mug for Christmas.
:)
:)
Monday, January 5, 2009
The Proverbial New Year's Resolution
The indefatigable Wowoo and I were having a chit-chat in our work stations (his desk is across mine) and we kinda got to exchanging bits about our weekend, with EJ nearby providing the occasional snicker, chuckle and witch's laugh.
I had quite some stuff to tell him about--what with the Friday afternoon Starbucks date I had with Jackie and Kim, the Friday night Margarita drinking binge (ok, just two glasses, lol) I had with my dear friend, Rowell, the Saturday night Serendra coffee session with Myts and the Northerners, and last night's family dinner at Rack's--so it was quite an animated conversation. We talked about John Travolta's sixteen-year-old son's recent death and the former's 5 private planes and very own airstrip (oh, the rich! the rich!), Tom Cruise and Scientology, and some stuff about Embassy and West Gate. Sunday is one of the worst days for working, and my team and I have to look for ways--different ways--to keep ourselves awake, and small talk is one of them.
As if that's something new.
Anyway.
Wowoo asked me what my New Year's resolution was--his was to eat at all the restaurants he hasn't eaten in, he said--and I told him that mine was to make it a point to count my blessings. He gave me a blank stare, like I was the most boring person on earth. "That's it? Count your blessings? But that's inane, so... so... do-able!" He looked at the new Charles and Keith pair I was wearing and, knowing my penchant for hoarding heeled footwear, suggested for me to make it my resolution to buy a pair of shoes in every mall that I go to. Oh, but I've done that lots of times, was he kidding?
Anyway, for the second time.
Counting one's blessings, though quite trite and insignificant for most, can be one of the toughest things to do. I certainly find it a challenging task to establish consistency on and although I know that it just might be the one cure for a pessimistic, depressive worry-wart like me, knowing alone isn't enough. But it does help to be aware, to recognize that one is fortunate to have the things that one has, to be with the people that one loves, to have a roof over one's head, to not worry about what to buy one's dinner with, to be up and about and not strapped to a hospital bed and depend on a respirator for survival. You know, things like that, things like the fifty-peso bill in one's wallet, or the healthy little daughter waiting for one to come home.
I, of course, did not voice all that out. For fear of being accused of being cheezy and sentimental, I kept mum about it, and said, instead, "how about this one, I could make it my goal to try all the cocktail drinks in the book. Won't that be neat?"
It elicited a grin and a "that's more like it."
I hate beer. I always have.
I had quite some stuff to tell him about--what with the Friday afternoon Starbucks date I had with Jackie and Kim, the Friday night Margarita drinking binge (ok, just two glasses, lol) I had with my dear friend, Rowell, the Saturday night Serendra coffee session with Myts and the Northerners, and last night's family dinner at Rack's--so it was quite an animated conversation. We talked about John Travolta's sixteen-year-old son's recent death and the former's 5 private planes and very own airstrip (oh, the rich! the rich!), Tom Cruise and Scientology, and some stuff about Embassy and West Gate. Sunday is one of the worst days for working, and my team and I have to look for ways--different ways--to keep ourselves awake, and small talk is one of them.
As if that's something new.
Anyway.
Wowoo asked me what my New Year's resolution was--his was to eat at all the restaurants he hasn't eaten in, he said--and I told him that mine was to make it a point to count my blessings. He gave me a blank stare, like I was the most boring person on earth. "That's it? Count your blessings? But that's inane, so... so... do-able!" He looked at the new Charles and Keith pair I was wearing and, knowing my penchant for hoarding heeled footwear, suggested for me to make it my resolution to buy a pair of shoes in every mall that I go to. Oh, but I've done that lots of times, was he kidding?
Anyway, for the second time.
Counting one's blessings, though quite trite and insignificant for most, can be one of the toughest things to do. I certainly find it a challenging task to establish consistency on and although I know that it just might be the one cure for a pessimistic, depressive worry-wart like me, knowing alone isn't enough. But it does help to be aware, to recognize that one is fortunate to have the things that one has, to be with the people that one loves, to have a roof over one's head, to not worry about what to buy one's dinner with, to be up and about and not strapped to a hospital bed and depend on a respirator for survival. You know, things like that, things like the fifty-peso bill in one's wallet, or the healthy little daughter waiting for one to come home.
I, of course, did not voice all that out. For fear of being accused of being cheezy and sentimental, I kept mum about it, and said, instead, "how about this one, I could make it my goal to try all the cocktail drinks in the book. Won't that be neat?"
It elicited a grin and a "that's more like it."
I hate beer. I always have.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
"Bagets" and Seatbelts
I watched "Bagets" last night over at the Pinoy Box Office channel and made a resolution to always strap on the seat belt every time I find myself on the seat of a moving car.
You see, in the movie (circa 1984; I was 4 then), Yayo Aguila (Rose)dies on the night of their JS Prom when boyfriend Antonio (inevitably nicknamed "Tonton" and played by, who else but William Martinez) accepts a dare to drag race alongside some rivals from school.
I'm not quite sure whether or not she was wearing a seat belt, but still. Scared me right there.
All together now...
I'm growing up, getting down
Putting my both feet on the ground...
(don't forget the matching dance step!)
Saturday, January 3, 2009
The Day is Done
I had meant to post this poem on New Year's day but somehow missed to.
So let me share with you a favorite Longfellow poem which, somehow, almost always finds itself on the first page of my journals. I don't know why I hadn't posted this much, much earlier. Consider it one of my major blogging/writing lapses.
The Day is Done
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.
For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
And the night shall be filled with music
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow-
So let me share with you a favorite Longfellow poem which, somehow, almost always finds itself on the first page of my journals. I don't know why I hadn't posted this much, much earlier. Consider it one of my major blogging/writing lapses.
The Day is Done
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.
For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
And the night shall be filled with music
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow-
Youtubing
Innocently enough, it started with a Youtube frenzy on Beyonce's "Single Ladies" (I must've viewed it, like, seven times!) and a handful of the Pussycat Dolls' music videos. I love their "I Hate This Part" video-- Nicole is just super hot! Incidentally, watching their other music videos was, to me, a chronicling of Nicole Scherzinger's evolution from a hip-hoppy girl-next-door to what she is now--a highly sophisticated, gorgeous singer/dancer, a creature of the stars, come down to earth to regale us mere mortals with her heavenly beauty.
Yech! What was that all about?!
Oops, lesbo tendencies surfacing! lol
Anyway, after getting an overdose of the PCD, for some reason, I found myself going farther and farther back, down to Christina Aguilera's early days, to Boy Krazy (yep, the one-hit-wonder) and their "That's What Love Can Do," Mariah Carey's pre-implants music, on to Shanice and her "I Love Your Smile," farther down to Cathy Dennis' "Too Many Walls," Suzanne Vega and "Luka," Martika's "Colored Kisses" and "Toy Soldiers"! I've just discovered, by the way, that Martika's last name is Marrero.
I found myself giggling nonstop, felt like I was eleven again, found myself back in my girlhood days when I was ever so much stupider than I am now, then when I had nary a trace of cynicism in me, no inkling of what it was, at all (ok, maybe I already had a faint idea, whatever). And, yeah, I'll be honest enough to admit it, I had a heck of a time viewing the Spice Girls' "Wannabe," touted by one of the Youtubers as "one of the most annoying songs in the world"!
lol
.jpg)
Remember them?
:)
Yech! What was that all about?!
Oops, lesbo tendencies surfacing! lol
Anyway, after getting an overdose of the PCD, for some reason, I found myself going farther and farther back, down to Christina Aguilera's early days, to Boy Krazy (yep, the one-hit-wonder) and their "That's What Love Can Do," Mariah Carey's pre-implants music, on to Shanice and her "I Love Your Smile," farther down to Cathy Dennis' "Too Many Walls," Suzanne Vega and "Luka," Martika's "Colored Kisses" and "Toy Soldiers"! I've just discovered, by the way, that Martika's last name is Marrero.
I found myself giggling nonstop, felt like I was eleven again, found myself back in my girlhood days when I was ever so much stupider than I am now, then when I had nary a trace of cynicism in me, no inkling of what it was, at all (ok, maybe I already had a faint idea, whatever). And, yeah, I'll be honest enough to admit it, I had a heck of a time viewing the Spice Girls' "Wannabe," touted by one of the Youtubers as "one of the most annoying songs in the world"!
lol
.jpg)
Remember them?
:)
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