Twinklings

Today, someone told me: it's not the breath you take every moment, but the moments that take your breath away. I'm not quite sure I got that right, but it's a beautiful thought, nevertheless.

There's a fairy tale-ish element in those lovely, ephemeral three winks when you simply have to gasp (in awe, amazement, or pleasure), that stay with you long after they're over, sights as simple as:

a scarlet bloom amidst luxurious green;

the twilit sky, bursting into orange and red, with velvet, ashen evening in the background, ready to wrap the world in its gigantic embrace;

a child's wide-eyed and toothy smile, full of joy and trust;

that of you, walking back home and laughing at that most recent, silly moment, your hair blowing and your chuckle floating in the afternoon breeze...

May you have one such moment today.
Have a great weekend!

Lit Geek update #11: Italo Calvino's "The Daughters of the Moon"

I read this story over at TheNewYorker.com.
It puzzled me, but this paragraph, I think, would best encapsulate what it is the story is trying to tell:

"In this world where every object was thrown away at the slightest sign of breakage or aging, at the first dent or stain, and replaced with a new and perfect substitute, there was just one false note, one shadow: the moon. It wandered through the sky naked, corroded, and gray, more and more alien to the world down here, a hangover from a way of being that was now outdated..."

And then, follows another brilliant paragraph:

"Ancient expressions like “full moon,” “half-moon,” “last-quarter-moon” continued to be used but were really only figures of speech: how could we call “full” a shape that was all cracks and holes and that always seemed on the point of crashing down on our heads in a shower of rubble? Not to mention when it was a waning moon! It was reduced to a kind of nibbled cheese rind, and it always disappeared before we expected it to. At each new moon, we wondered whether it would ever appear again (were we hoping that it would simply disappear?), and when it did reappear, looking more and more like a comb that had lost its teeth, we averted our eyes with a shudder..."

Sheer genius. Just the mere thought of the moon dying... Won't that change everything the way we've known them to be?

The story ends with these lines:

"...we realize that now is when life begins, and yet it is clear that what we desire we shall never have."

Pessimism is Ugly.

Looking at the sky still shakes my faith, at times. Its vastness warps its beauty.

Sloughing the Jigglies: Action plan #1

For breakfast, NO RICE.
For lunch, pig-out.
For dinner, yoghurt.


Yeah, sorry, I can't get rid of the pig-out thingie. I told myself that even if I went on a diet, I will have to binge on at least one meal for the day, and lunch seems like the best time to do that.

You think this'll work?

Growing Up

Some years back, the sight of a plane in flight was a beautiful sign of good luck, a portent of something pleasant about to happen. Etched against the blue sky, the plane was my beacon of hope. It lifted me from my slump.

Now, I have realized that the only reason why I constantly see airplanes is this: I live near the airport. (Well, relatively)

Poop.

Parched

I am going through a dry--no, make that very dry--blogging spell right now.

It's been eons since I last posted an entry here. It's not like I haven't tried, though. It frustrates me to look at all the unfinished drafts staring back at me from my posting box. They blink at me, waiting, waiting, waiting for me to, maybe, click on "edit" and finish them, give them the shape they think they should have.

But, for the life of me, I couldn't. It's probably the stale, dusty winds in the workplace that are sucking my creative juices dry, not that I had much, to begin with. Too much reality for li'l ol' me, I guess.

I am waiting for the rains, summoning them whenever I manage to muster the strength to do so, eventually giving up because I always fail.

So this is all I'm publishing for now, though I wish it were something else.

I really do.

(image from here)

"What if this is as good as it gets?"

(photo from this site)

Awww... moment:

"I might be the only person on the face of the earth that knows you're the greatest woman on earth. I might be the only one who appreciates how amazing you are in every single thing that you do, and how you are with Spencer, "Spence," and in every single thought that you have, and how you say what you mean, and how you almost always mean something that's all about being straight and good. I think most people miss that about you, and I watch them, wondering how they can watch you bring their food, and clear their tables and never get that they just met the greatest woman alive. And the fact that I get it makes me feel good, about me."

-Melvin Udall to Carol Connelly, As Good as it Gets (1997)-



Sigh.

Running in Heels (or something like it)

One of my greatest fears is to trip on my heels in front of a crowd. (Oh, heaven forbid!)

Because of this, I try my best to be careful when I walk, as I am almost always in heels during work days. No casual spectator would notice, though, that I am being very ginger when I walk. As a result of constant practice, I have mastered the art of walking--even running--in heels.

When I was still working in Makati, there was this one lunch time where, with a single-minded goal to be in on time, a paper bag of burgers and fries in hand and my hair flying in several directions, I had to run a block in three-inch stilettoes, nudging strangers along the way, ejecting mumbled apologies here and there.

Now, thanks to the relative laid-backness of Alabang (though it's fast on its way to rivalling Makati in pace), I have somehow avoided having to run a block in a race against time. The most I do right now is to sprint from the car to the office elevator, muttering expletives (to myself) for not having woken up earlier than the 75 minute-allowance which should have been, at least, an hour and a half, if I had wanted to spare my feet from more varicose veins and my shoes from premature wear-and-tear.

I am aware that I am a walking recipe for foot and leg injury, but this is the point I really wanted to make, and which I will pose in question form: how do you equate running in heels to the highs and lows of life?

:)

Poor Dolphins!

Did you hear about the hundreds of Melon-head dolphins who got stranded in the shallow waters of Manila Bay?

Such sad news, the poor creatures. Hope they get back to safe waters soon.

(Thanks, Wowoo, for the update)

I am a Wolf

That's according to Native American astrology. This is my first contact with Native American astrology and I must say I'm intrigued.

I visited what's-your-sign.com and it has this to say about people like me:

Wolf: Feb 19 – Mar 20
Deeply emotional, and wholly passionate, the Wolf is the lover of the zodiac in both the physical and philosophical sense of the word. The Wolf understands that all we need is love, and is fully capable of providing it. Juxtaposed with his/her fierce independence – this Native American animal symbol is a bit of a contradiction in terms. Needing his/her freedom, yet still being quite gentle and compassionate – we get the picture of the "lone wolf" with this sign. In a nurturing environment the Wolf is intensely passionate, generous, deeply affectionate, and gentle. Left to his/her own devices the Wolf can become impractical, recalcitrant, obsessive, and vindictive.

Hmm... "impractical, recalcitrant, obsessive, and vindictive."

Very interesting.

Go, visit the site to check out your sign:

Otter: Jan 20 - Feb 18
Wolf: Feb 19 – Mar 20
Falcon: Mar 21 – Apr 19
Beaver: Apr 20 – May 20
Deer: May 21 – Jun 20
Woodpecker: Jun 21 – Jul 21
Salmon: Jul 22 – Aug 21
Bear: Aug 22 – Sep 21
Crow/Raven: Sep 22 – Oct 22
Snake/Serpent: Oct 23 – Nov 22
Owl: Nov 23 – Dec 21
Goose: Dec 22 – Jan 19

Vapors

I still feel like I'm teetering on the edge of some high place. After the hell I had surpassed, I've begun to think of myself as someone who will steadily face each setting of the omnipresent sun.

Lately, the feeling that this may not be the case has been nagging me like some persistent echo.

In January 7, 2007, I wrote:

You probably know how it is, when that tiny wail clamped inside your chest balloons into a huge lump of painful, ear-splitting screams. For some of us, it's easy to let it out. Never mind that the odds of being heard by the people two doors away are ninety-nine to one. It's as easy as one, two, three, scream! Then it's all over and you feel a thousand times better where it used to hurt like needle-pricks.

For the less fortunate ones (namely, the repressed), shouting is out of the question. The thought of it just never comes, simply because it's not the natural instinct. We probably never learned the trick as children.We feel the gargantuan pain (and we're talking physical pain) shooting up from the chest to the throat and we push, push it downwards so that the effort makes breathing difficult. But we don't stop until we know for sure that we've dug deep enough to bury the scream.

And, with it, the pain.

And then the tears never really come.They have retreated, pushed down, as well. And we think, what a feat it has been, what sweetness in the strength of temperance, one more victory for the taking.

If it's victory or something else, I can never really be certain.

Wanderlust: 0%

People talk about scheduling (or coming back from) a trip to Singapore, Hong Kong or LA, climbing mountains and cruising down oceans, driving out of town, sunbathing in Galera, girl-watching in Bora, etc, etc.

People go places (or at least express the desire to) like it were the most wonderful thing in the world to be somewhere other than where one is.

And I wonder: why can't I be like them?

Yeah, I do want to experience what that eagerness to gallivant feels like. Truth is, there is an element of envy here (the innoccuous kind, that is), some sort of "can we trade places for a day?" thing.

Friends have invited me for a day or two at the beach, a trip to Phuket, a shopping pilgrimmage to Hong Kong. I've always had some difficulty saying "no," because with the "no" comes the prerequisite explanation why. How do I explain that the prospect of toasting in the sun has absolutely zero appeal to me, that the thought of skin aging (few of us are aware, and we will only see the effects later on, but skin aging does start early and the sun is one of the biggest culprits!) makes me shudder and avoid the sun as much as I can. A long trip, on the other hand, or one that would require me to pack and board a plane and land in a place where everything is strange, has never been a part of my life's itinerary.

This is not to say, though, that I am as boring as I sound. There is that occasional longing to go out (aside from the proverbial coffee with friends and shopping at the mall) and have a good time somewhere new. But again, the word is "occasional" and the supplementary adjective is "fleeting."

And people, of course, would start preaching about how I am missing half of my life and all that good stuff. How do I explain that I'd much rather stay where I am, that a real break, for me, means sleeping for 12 straight hours in my warm, cozy bed (just because for the longest time, I haven't really had enough sleep), that a cup of coffee and a good book, movie or magazine are enough to keep me company to the places I want to go to, and that, through the words I've read, I've actually already gone to the places I want to visit?

How do you explain that to people and expect them to understand? In the same way that I respect their desire--and need--to go to far places and satisfy that itch to see the world (or the blue of the beach, for that matter), I expect them, too, to respect my wish to be left at peace and, when prodded to accept an invite, not have the need to launch into an obligatory, lengthy (because too few words would mean not getting yourself across and having to explain even more) explanation and, worse, be forced to say yes to something I don't want.

I appreciate the fact that I still do get asked to go, proof that my friends do not hate my company all that much (lol).

Well, who knows, one distant day, in a cafe in Prague, you'll look up and feel a jolt to see me offering you a cup of coffee. Or, one Friday in Bora, you'll catch a glimpse of me, bikini-clad and tanned, cavorting with my friends under the hot, glorious sun.

Now, that'll be the day. I'm in stitches, just thinking about it.

;p

LITTLE VOICE

Buy it, buy it, buy it!

All the songs are gorgeous!

Work-o-rama

Work has been--still is, and will continue to be--insanely stressful.

I cannot believe that after a super hectic January, February promises to be just as loaded! I'm finding it maddening, trying to fit all my deliverables (plus ad hocs, to boot!) within an 8-hour shift. So far, I have been able to catch my breath every now and then, thank you, but tomorrow, I'm positive, will be different. I'm almost sure I won't have the time to exhale!

So, does the paycheck justify the stress?

Facebook na lang!
Weehee!

:)