My Sheila

I talked to my dear friend, Sheila, yesterday and after two weeks of not seeing each other, the conversation was a welcome respite from the monotony of work, work, work and the daily grind of keeping up with the colorless, unilateral world the industry we work in so easily becomes.

Catching up with her made me realize how important it is to have someone you can talk to and not worry about:


a) not being understood;
b) being over-read;
or
c)being stared at in the face and thought of as some loony person blabbering away into blabberland.

Sheila and I, we get each other. We would often:

a)catch each other's eyes and burst out laughing;
b)be in a conversation with other people, exchange glances and know what the other is thinking;
c)tell each other things we don't normally tell the greater majority of our friends, or colleagues;
and
d)keep secrets for each other, cherishing the fact that we each have someone we can release our bottled up trivia and non-trivia to.

We've agreed, a long while back, that we belong on the same wavelength. Our minds are in tune with each other. I can share my silliest thoughts with her and know that I will not be scolded, or thought of as shallow. With her, I know that I can pour the saddest and darkest contents of my heart and know that I will not be turned away or judged. And I know that she knows that she can run to me, anytime.

Thank the fairies for friends.
Such treasures they are.

Lit Geek Update #16: Neil Gaiman's NEVERWHERE

I must confess that it took me a while to sink into the novel's realm. My rule of thumb when it comes to deciding whether to finish a piece of literature or not is that I generally go by how the first few pages make me feel and then decide from there. These initial pages will make--or break--the book for me. If they appeal to me, I go on, and if they don't, back to the shelf the book goes. It was different for Neverwhere.

I gave it a chance. I curbed the urge to slam the book shut, what with the unappealing--almost trite--prose the novel began with. I told myself, hey, this is my first Gaiman novel and maybe his works do take some getting used to. Just because I absolutely adored his Smoke and Mirrors (which is a collection of his short fiction), I plodded on.

And I'm glad I did.

To the Gaiman greenhorn, Gaiman's works, I surmise (I say "surmise" because I have yet to read enough of his works to use any other verb), call for suspension of disbelief to be appreciated. As opposed to the magical realistic work, which assumes the "magic" in the fiction to be part of the "real", Gaiman's kind of fantasy employs "magic" that is more protuberant and intruding, and therefore, more difficult to swallow. I know Gaiman fans will probably protest; and that is why I started this paragraph with "to the Gaiman greenhorn."

It was all just part of the "how d'ya do" stage, though. Or, to be more exact, of the first thirty pages, thereabouts. Eventually, in this case, I gave in to the pull of the succeedingly superb, visual turn the prose took. The descriptions were something else, a quality that is most probably consequential of Gaiman's expertise as a graphic novelist. Needless to say, I found myself engrossed in the sea of words and worlds and possibilities given to me by the author. Richard Mayhew's journey(s) with The Lady Door became journeys that I wanted to follow.

I am in the book's final pages.

I'll be reading American Gods next.

Darkness

Victor Hugo:
"Darkness is dizzying. We need light: whenever we plunge into the opposite of day we feel our hearts chilled. When the eye sees darkness, the mind sees trouble. In an eclipse, at night, in the sooty darkness, even the strongest feel anxiety. Nobody walks alone at night in the forest without trembling. Darkness and trees, two formidable depths--a chimeric reality appears in the indistinct distance. An outline of the Inconceivable emerges a few steps away with a spectral clarity. You see floating in space or in your brain something strangely vague and unseizable like the dreams of sleeping flowers. There are fierce shapes in the horizon. You breathe in the odors of the great black void. You are afraid and are tempted to look behind you. The socket of night, the haggard look of everything, taciturn profiles that fade away as you advance, obscure dishevelments, angry clumps, livid pools, the gloomy reflected in the funereal, the sepulchral immensity of silence, the possible unknown beings, swaying of mysterious branches, frightful torsos of the trees, long wisps of shivering grass--you are defenseless against all of it. There is no bravery that does not shudder and feel the proximity of anguish. You feel something hideous, as if soul were melting into shadow.
-Les Miserables, "Cosette" book 3, chapter 5 "The Little Girl All Alone" pp 388-389-
*this section of my copy is shamelessly dog-eared and has been so for the past eleven years*

Neil Gaiman:
""Darkness is happening," said the leather woman, very quietly. "Night is happening. All the nightmares that have come out when the sun goes down, since the cave times, when we huddled together for safety and for warmth, are happening. Now," she told them, "now is the time to be afraid of the dark." Richard knew that something was about to creep over his face. He closed his eyes: it made no difference to what he saw or felt. The night was complete."
-Neverwhere, chapter IV, p.103-

*Painting: Sunflower by Gustav Klimt*

Overheard:

A: Did you know that The Great Pyramid of Giza is the only one of the 7 Wonders of The Ancient World still standing today?
B: WTF? The hell I care for your pyramid. duh.
A: I'm just saying. It's a nice-to-know. Plus...
B: Oh, spare me.
A: Almost all of 'em were destroyed by earthquakes. How tragic.
B: I am so interested. Leave me alone, you geek.

Hmm. Cool.

When I think of all that has been taken from me--
countless white spaces between time's black hands--

Sign of MY times: age masks

When I flip through a fashion magazine, I generally find myself going past the beauty section (i.e. make-up and beauty products, for those not in-the-know). Lately, though, and most recently, this morning, I've noticed that I've been lingering--and I did linger--far longer than I used to on a feature on moisturizers or, as they are called, "age-defying" creams in botttles or tubes or what-have-yous.

Uh-oh.

I'm fast approaching my thirties, that's probably why. They say that the best time to start lathering up on those "miracle creams" is when a woman is in her twenties. I've been using moisturizers religiously, but only the kind that you may call "basic" and not one of 'em "miracle" ones. hahaha. What's with this word? Perhaps it's time to bid the basics adieu and say "bonjour!" to the more "intensive" creams. blech

I never thought I'd see the day but here I am. I am starting to dread the time when people would actually guess my age correctly. For now, most of them take me for 24.

Hee. Good enough for me.
=)

I was in one of my pensive moods this morning and a line from Wordsworth's "Ode: Intimations of Immortality From Recollections of Early Childhood" blew across my thoughts, as the line was connected to the chains my mind was piecing together. I decided to look the poem up and I found myself starting to feel sad upon reading the first lines of the first verse and grew even sadder as I moved onward...

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;--
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more...

Oh, to be a kid again! Adulthood is such a sad affair.

In the room, everyone was beautiful.
Silks rustled with tulle
and toad's skins
kept very quiet
under lavender and lily.

Harry, Harry

Once again, I must ask too much of you...

"Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" was a real winner. Kids probably won't enjoy it as much as they did the first couple of episodes, as this one is much, much darker. The themes it explores--and the way with which the movie is executed--are, decidedly, for the older crowd. A few have complained about its lack--well, compared to the first ones--of scoring and, dig this, "too much dialogue"! Whoa! So what were they expecting--all spells and fights and flying?! Exposition, folks, exposition!

There may be a few tears waiting to fall for the soft-hearted ones--I know I felt a lump in my throat in the movie's final scenes--and adults forcing themselves to "grow up, grow up!" might end up with some double-taking and mulling over to do. The magic of Harry Potter is that its magic almost always gets to people. Even non-fans have confessed to have been moved by it. Impeccable cinematography and an almost flawless casting are, of course, very essential pluses.

I heard the last book will be broken down to 2 movies. We have some waiting to do, then.

Meanwhile, let's all kindle that child-like belief in magic. I know it'll get us through the long wait.
;)

***

I'm glad to note that Roger Ebert who, so I'm told, is not really a Harry Potter Fan, still thinks it a good film. Click here to read his thoughts on it. I had to shake my head, though, when I read what he had to say about Daniel Radcliffe's acting, though he did have a point. Being "the chosen one" in the middle of such a powerful cast and standing up to the expectations coming with and tailing after such a role is a tall, tall, order.

So, if only for that, I'm completely with ya, Daniel.

Rewind

4 posts in close to 3 weeks. I definitely have some catching up to do.

The problem with Facebook is that it takes up too much of one's time and easily thwarts one's resolve to do other things, especially when one has low EQ, like me. I stare back at the days and think, but so much has happened and begin to wonder where to start stringing them into words and lines. Ugh. Problem.

But then again, one can always start where one is. And it just so happens that beside this window are 5 Facebook windows, each one opening to a different FB application, all with pending stuff--energy fill, time before one can work a job again, or harvest a crop, or stamina to fight. Heehee. So, it's all FB, FB, FB. One thing I've sworn off, though, is one game I used to be so addicted to, which is Bejeweled Blitz. I swear, I was on it for days and hours in a day. I grew cranky and impatient when each game gave me a paltry score, and angry whenever someone else beat me to a level, or several levels. Losing is not my forte. I am a sore loser. Well, at least, I'm admitting it. Right.

The same goes for arguments. Work is one of the best venues for sharpening one's arguing claws. Recently, I found myself in a 3-day battle of sides with someone who, so some have said, I was better off giving up on. And I was like, why? I saw no reason not to dig my heels just because people saw this person as someone not worth wasting one's time in pushing back on because he would never give in. I knew I had a point and I was determined to make it.

By the end of the third day, I found that my determination had paid off. I had him where I wanted, which was: on the ground where I stood. The cause I fought for were to benefit quite a number of people, and so we all shared the victory and its advantages.

Sweet. =)

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: Darkening Themes

A student's blind faith in his mentor.
Unfathomable guilt that drives a man to tamper with his own memory for fear of discovery.
A villain's steady, gradual descent into darkness.
Trust and betrayal.
Death.

Still, in all of these: magic.

Go, watch.

Peer AJ was singing "Puff The Magic Dragon" the wrong way and I corrected him. I said,"it's "lived by the sea" not "living by the sea"". He, ever so stubborn, insisted it was "living" and not "lived".

My dad taught this song to me when I was a kid and I knew it well enough to stand my ground.

"Wanna bet on it?" I had my right eyebrow raised. A hundred, let's get it on. He pretty much just shrugged, looking up the lyrics on the net, then turning to me with a huge grin on his face and saying, with that annoyingly smug tone of his, "I am never wrong. Peter, Paul and Mary wrote the song wrong."

Hah.

Still, I won.
Heehee.

My Very Bad Habits:

1. wearing heels five days a week;
2. buying heeled shoes when I already have one too many;
3. playing Mafia Wars, Sorority Life, Farm Town, YoVille, and Barn Buddy on Facebook instead of sleeping (got dark circles around my eyes to show for it);
4. dwelling on a problem for too long (a peer once said, "anything that you let last for more than 5 minutes is self-inflicted");
5. drinking coffee in lieu of having a decent meal;
6. preferring Starbucks coffees over any other kind of coffee (bad to the wallet, tsk, tsk);
7. not saying "no" to what my darling kiddos want (bad, I know, but surely moms out there would understand);
8. grabbing a bag of chips every so often;
9. preening in public;
10. arguing for the sake of winning (especially when it's the male vs. female kind of debate hahahaha).

I'm spending too much time on Facebook. LOL.

What are your bad habits?
;)

I'm just saying.

If you don't know much about something, I say step down and stop pretending that you're an expert on that particular topic. You'll come out looking like a fool, honey, so just quit it. If you're gonna compare the Harry Potter series to "The Da Vinci Code" movie, I say, stop. It'd be like, well, putting a smocked bed spread beside a smocked pillow case and trying to decide which one is prettier. Saying that "The Da Vinci Code" is way better because it "tackles real life" (eww) and that the Harry Potter movies are corny because they are "unrealistic" is, like, duh, lady. Where've you been?

And to tell me that you have every right to give your opinion on the matter because you "studied literature for two years"? Come on. I'd bet my next pay check you didn't even pay attention to your English 1 class.

Pffftt.

The girl puts a bookmark on the page she's been reading and thinks, the woman in the story is me. I am in the story. This is my story. The valleys and plateaus in the story's plot are the valleys and plateaus of my life. The rivers she almost drowned in, the fires she escaped--they are the same rivers and fires I have survived. The sky that enclosed her world and the stars she gazed at night after night are the sky and the stars of my world.

But the volume is much too thin, she thinks. How will the woman's story end? She is afraid.

She put the book carefully on her bedside table and lays her head on the orange thread-embroidered pillow, knowing fully well that sleep is not about to come anytime soon, no matter that the rest of the neighborhood is quiet and her own room dark as the night outside her porch.

She curbs the urge to reach for the book once more. She is afraid.

Happiness is a pair of killer heels.

Drag Her To Hell

This movie



is hilarious.
If you're bored and are looking for a no-brainer movie to see, this should be a good choice.

The Week That Was

Tsk, tsk. Been blog-hopping again and saw several posts on deelish food and here I am, hankering for shellfish pasta. Tsk, tsk. What a shame because it's barely been an hour since I ate breakfast. What's new, right?

I've been away for quite some time, this blog is starting to give me the cold shoulder. I've been spending more time with its neighbor (aka Facebook hahaha), you see. My farm has prospered so much I was able to buy a small house and a magenta-painted barn, which is such a cutie I couldn't stop staring at it. My daughter told me she couldn't wait to become a grown-up so she can have a Facebook account and she can play Farm Town, lol.

Other highlights of my week include having watched Dave Matthews Band's performance on Late Night With Jimmy Fallon, seeing "Drag Me To Hell" at Festival Mall (been ages since I last saw a horror flick, though this one was more funny than scary), eating yummy carbonara at Rack's, devouring slice after slice of Starbucks' Raspberry Mango Cheesecake (try it, it's to-die-for!)with the kiddos, and finally, finally, getting rid of one big thorn on my side. Let me talk in riddles for this particular topic--one isn't supposed to gloat over someone else's loss, after all, though when it's a jerk-slash-psychopath who's involved, it's hard not to. Let's just say it was all for the best, and end it right there.

This crazy weather is insane, don't you think? And the allegedly spreading virus is alarming, it's a good thing classes have been suspended for a week. Which leads me to ask, how about working people? Are we less at risk of catching the dreaded sickness?

Oh, but that's life. Gotta work, or else.

Enjoy the week ahead, folks!

The Alpha Female (part 2)

*continued from here

6. dress to kill. Go put on that black, long-sleeved turtleneck top, those crisp, gray pants and three-inch, killer stilettos. Nothing like power-dressing to boost a woman's self-esteem sky-high. Those heels should force you to power-walk, too;

7. don't forget to be courteous and polite, to male and female alike. Being a leader doesn't mean you have to be--or have the license to be--rude and unrefined;

8. when a problem is given to you on a plate, stay calm and composed. Do not, in any way, panic, or if you must, don't ever show the world that your feathers are in the least bit ruffled. Know that you can solve whatever challenge is thrown your way. You are a woman and you are capable and competent;

9. there is nothing wrong with asking for help, should you need it, and when that time comes, go ahead and...

10. work those charms, lady. Remember, when all else fails, you can always count on your smile to put sugar on whatever is bitter. Melt those walls with your softness. You can be both fire and water because you are a woman!

Am so lovin' this... the alpha female roaring... teehee!


*Photo from LeLove. (photo caption: "Because it wouldn't be love without the fighting" hahahahaha)

This Morning, A Firefly

At 7:38 this morning, I saw a firefly blinking its yellow glint against a nearby calamansi tree. It was alone and I stared at it, wondering what it was frolicking in the tree for, it being morning and all. It was a very pretty sight, not the kind one saw everyday, so I stared on.

I thought I saw another firefly on the bush under said tree, but it turned out to be a giant dewdrop perched and glistening on a leaf, beautiful, too, to behold. It would have been asking too much to see two fireflies on the same morning.

Plus, after two days of rain, the sun was smiling mildly upon the half-roused earth, so there was really nothing to complain about.

Here's to a beautiful day.
(Raising my cup of coffee)
Cheers!

The Alpha Female

Putting her foot down and assuming the role of alpha male are a couple of the tricks an emancipated woman soon learns after stepping out of her shell, and these talents, she soon finds out, are quite useful in making it in this "man's world" (which, I suppose, is fast on its way to becoming a "woman's world," but we'll get there soon enough).

Here are some tips that we can all use to make a man cower into submission:

1. Hold that stare, steady and steely. Trust me, you'll get your point across and win that argument/debate with this simple stroke;

2. make it a habit to put your hands on either side of your waist when speaking in front (or in the middle) of a pack of males, be it a business meeting or a team huddle;

3. shoulders on the level, back straight as an arrow--mom's reminders to keep your posture in check should come in handy now. A woman is more formidable when she is standing up straight. It wouldn't matter if you are petite. You can be as tall as you feel, so go ahead and feel tall!

4. put a mild swagger to your walk, though be careful not to overdo it, otherwise, you'll end up coming across as too self-assured, and that can't be good, as too much of anything is bad. Just walk like you always know where you're going (even if you don't) and focus your eyes on an invisible post. Don't walk too fast, and remember that swagger.

5. brush up on your reading and practice your speeches. There's nothing like a smart, intelligent and well-read woman to make a man realize that he is not the better gender. They might get their way with physical strength or force, but hey, let's make sure we win through sheer sharpness of wit, presence of mind, some French or German, and a little biting sarcasm.

Obviously, this is not all. I'll be back with more.

So, what wiles do you practice to put that punch to your touch?
=)

*part 2 here

Status Updates

Have gotten in touch with High School best friends over at Face Book.

Very recently, someone's status update about putting one's foot down and being an alpha male (we are all female) and another's video link of Paul McCartney's "Singalong Junk" sparked up (online) conversations about girl power and dressing up in a black suit-and-daggers ensemble for when those "kickin' ass" moments come up, and wanting to be thirteen or sixteen again and going to the places one used to frequent when one was young, doing the things one used to do a lot when one was yet unwary of how beset with worries adulthood could be.

Are these signs that one is growing old?

Or maybe it's just the rain. Was scorching hot early in the week, and now, these downpours.

Or is it because Mercury has turned direct?

Let me make a mental note to type that on my Facebook status update space.

On second thought, I think I've already done that.

To See or Not To See:

hmmm...

Pause

and the one thing that might cause me to shift
is the dancer's step.
-From "Vase Painting," by Rainer Maria Rilke-

I am waiting for Mercury to go direct. There is so much tension in the air, suspended tautly in this hot, dry weather; lying in silent, stagnant pools inside my brain.

All this waiting, and waiting, and waiting isn't good for repressed people. The possibility of an implosion--or implosions, if one may, because there are many repressed people--rises to dangerous heights.

May 30th.
I wonder what's in store.

Cuckoo Over Farm Town

I have, officially, become a Face Book Farm Town addict. I never would have guessed, as I've never been a gamer my entire life. This age of virtual gaming was unheard of when I was a kid. Back then, my brother and I played real--though this term would vary in meaning, depending on which generation you belong to--games under the sun, with other kids our age, or close to our age. Even with the advent of the family computer, the PSP, the DS, and other what-have-yous, I have managed to steer clear of the gaming bug.

Until now. Or, last Monday, to be exact.

Now, I am on level 11 of Farm Town, which makes me a farmer, teehee. Make that "Tamsen The Farmer"--yes, I do get to name myself "Tamsen," which happens to be my second favorite name (next to my name, of course). I plow the fields on my green grass-bordered, apple-tree-and-orange-tree-and-lemon-tree-lined farm, go to the store to buy various seeds, plant them on the plowed grounds and voila, after some time, I get to harvest grapes, strawberries, tomatoes, potatoes, lemons, apples, and oranges. I am still waiting--very impatiently, if I may add--for the coffee, wheat, sunflowers, and rice to be ready for harvest. A bountiful reaping would mean lots of coins to be had after a trip to the market to sell the crops. Then it's back to square one, only this time, you have more moolah, more sophisticated, expensive seeds sown and a promise of an even more bountiful harvest which translates, of course, to an even richer, ever growing coffer.

Ah, such a sweet life it is. My Lola would have been proud of me. Mama, this one's for you.



Alors, gotta visit my farm, folks. Hope we can be neighbors, soon. Click here to read on how Farm Town has overtaken Pet Society on Face Book. =)

A great weekend to y'all!

P.S. My daughter is envious and itching to try it. I promised her we would farm tomorrow. =)

Survivor Tocantins: J.T.

Everyone in the jury voted for him.
Yeah yeah yeah!
Sorry, Stephen.

The Other Boleyn Girl

Nothing really spectacular about this film, except Natalie Portman, the costumes (loved 'em) and the lengths they went to to romanticize the story of Anne, Mary and that philandering Henry VIII. Well, the latter (the romanticizing, not Henry VIII's philandering) might've been Philippa Gregory's fault. Anyway.

Portman as Anne Boleyn was perfection--history writes Anne off as dark-haired, 5 feet and 3 inches tall, flat-chested, well-educated and headstrong, and Portman's portrayal of the role was more than satisfactory. Anne Boleyn must've been--or rather, was--an advocate of girl power, long before it became the fashion to be one. Imagine twirling the king of England around her little finger and being one of the pivotal figures in transforming the country's history! Oh, the feats women take on! I'm hoping Scarlett Johansson (Mary Boleyn) learned a thing or two from both Portman and Anne. You think Mary Boleyn wore only two expressions her entire life?

And Henry VIII, oh where do I begin? He's always been portrayed in paintings as this very heavy-set, very fat and sour-looking king. And then here comes Eric Bana. Like, hello? Didn't make sense at all. Plus he, too, worked on jut two facial expressions in the entire length of the movie. I think it might've worked if he had ended up with Scarlett, heehee.

Lots of blood in the movie, too. So a lot of women back then either died in childbirth or had stillbirths. Probably because they didn't have pre-natal care yet, in those times. I feel lucky.

And there you have it.

Ho-hum. Definitely not a movie I'd recommend.

Monday Morning Thoughts

I think it's sad, the way people get scared when parcels of themselves get exposed, bits and pieces they'd rather keep stuffed inside, parts of them that, if other people found out about, would really ruin how they are perceived to be.

In the workplace, we have this concept called "perception management" where it is posited that "perception is reality." Up to a certain point--and a certain point only--I would have to agree. But the line has to be drawn between perception and reality because, at the end of the day, after all the sad, mad, pretensions we have to keep up and go through in our sad, little lives, perception and reality are two very different things.

We are all guilty of judging people for sundry things: for being glum and morose and keeping to themselves three-fourths of the time; for sucking their thumbs during stress-filled moments; for liking Bjork, or Amy Winehouse, or the Backstreet Boys; for looking for a paper bag to breathe into during anxiety attacks (we snicker at the phrase--he/she is just faking it, we would say, what drama); for being happy three-fourths of the time; for being happy, period; for muttering to themselves; for having short, violent tempers; for being sloppy in dress and speech; for being too well-dressed. In short, we judge people for virtually anything. If there is anything discrepant in someone's behavior, our fangs take over. Then our capacity for seeing the bad in others goes up to tremendous heights.

But what do we know of their griefs, and what do they know of ours?

And that is why people in the low have nowhere else to go but farther down.

Or, perhaps, we are merely scared?

Enough said.

Have a great week ahead!
=)

Not Just the Coffee

Good thing the 7-Up can was empty, else a good portion of the table cloth would have ended up soaked in the sweet, chemical-rich liquid. Still, the knowledge that it was empty escaped me for a split second and, in that wink of a moment, my heart walloped so hard I felt like wanting to reel from its aftermath. I sat there, steadying myself, awed by the Pacquiao-like (but painless) punch my heart had thrown against my chest.

I am easily startled. A handful of people at work know this and have taken to sneaking up from behind me and shouting "boo!" or "hah!" quite often, making me do any, or all, of the following: jumping, shrieking, shouting an expletive or two, and, always, that hard thump in the chest.

It could be the coffee.

Or not.

I am aware that it's natural to be startled when, well, we're caught off-guard, but lately, the intensity of the pounding in my chest whenever it happens has made me notice that it has, indeed, gone from natural to too much. A friend and I talked about it after the 7-Up episode and he agreed that it can't all be just the coffee (I like mine light on the caffeine, anyway, I mostly order mocha-flavored ones, except for those occasional really drowsy times when I have to force myself to be on the go, then I'd request for an extra espresso shot).

Perhaps I've built my wall piled too high with rocks that when it crumbles because I forget to stand guard, it crashes really loud and hard?

(clip art from clipart.com)

People are breaking, breaking, breaking... Dear God, please help them get through whatever it is they need to get through.

Meanwhile, I stand silently by, a mere observer, calm and steady; a witness following scenes with eyes that see too much from looking, and a heart saddened by the confusion, the griefs that friends try hard to keep between folded hands, yet which push themselves out, even so.

And in the middle of this seemingly aimless, static wait, I remember thinking how I was once where they are now, how I was them, once. And I remember how it felt, only, now, because I have learned how it is to keep oneself detached, the pain feels very faint, like a sigh on one's palm, a murmur in one's mind.

Remembering--and always remembering, because forgetting will not be possible--how it was and how it is, I find myself inching forward and reaching out a hand. I cannot, cannot keep looking and remain a bystander.

Because turning my back on them would be like keeping the door shut on my knocking, pleading self.

A Thought That Crossed My Mind When Once, I Read About A Girl Running After A Bus:

So what if they think you're less of a girl because you refuse their help in carrying those big, bulky things? If you can stretch your strength to limits they would never think you could stretch them to, go ahead and carry on, my girl. They'd be all the less for thinking there are things you simply can't do, just because you're a woman, and you'd be all the more for proving them wrong.

In Loving Memory of Edgar

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore..."

I just finished reading Jill Lepore's "The Humbug: Edgar Allan Poe and the economy of horror" over at NewYorker.com. As it turns out, 2009 marks Poe's 200th anniversary (damn, he's old!), so, a fitting time to read about him.

"Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor."

He was born January 19th and he was a Capricorn.

You might say he's been some kind of a fixture in my life--my dad has been mentioning him to me since grade school, telling me to "read Edgar Allan Poe" at least once a year, I might say. "The Cask of Amontillado" and "The Fall of the House of Usher" were familiar stories to me, thanks to an old, tattered, browning book my dad gave me to read when I was, I think, in fifth grade. Soon, High School found me listening to more than half of my classmates reciting "Annabel Lee," with the requisite gestures (how on earth is one supposed to "gesture-ize" that poem? but then again, it was required, so they didn't have much choice) in front of a hard-to-please teacher. I, ever the deviant, chose Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's "A Psalm of Life" for the precise reason that less than a handful of us chose said poem. Plus, yeah, I've always adored Longfellow. Have you read his "The Day Is Done"? It kicks ass!

Back to Poe.

"And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before..."

My undergraduate thesis, too, was unable to escape from this drunken writer of horror, whose own life was painted brown and gray and dreary by squalor and poverty. My topic being Strange Fiction, he inevitably found his way on the pages I was writing.

"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before..."

It is, therefore, not difficult for me to understand why, between Margaret Talbot's "Brain Gain: The underground world of “neuroenhancing” drugs", where I didn't even get to finish page 2, and the feature on Poe, I had more patience--make that "interest," even "eagerness" (okay, okay, so making up my mind over which word to use has always been a challenge for me!)--to devour the latter.

And, yeah, according to the text, it is to his Dupin character that we can trace the Sherlock Holmeses, the Nancy Drews, the Hardy Boys, and all the sleuths--and wanna-be-sleuths--of this world.

Hah.

I had second thoughts about posting his picture, such a sour, sad-looking fellow he was. But what the heck, genius lies behind that dark visage!

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

*all poem fragments taken from Poe's "The Raven"-

Royce

This


is pure heaven.
Now, I finally understand why people are lining up for said chocolate at the Power Plant Mall, Rockwell.

And I got it for free, gift-wrapped and hand-delivered, to boot!
A million thanks to V-- and Ate K--!

Lit Geek Update #15: Last Book I Read

After weeks of installment reading, I finally finished:


My take on it? It's Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
Enough said.

Food

I have just come fresh from blog-hopping and all these people writing about food really get to my nerves--or, my stomach! I don't like apple pie but reading about how (supposedly) yummy it is makes me wonder whether I've been too hasty in judging it. I'm suddenly craving for oyster cake and baked lasagna and stuffed portobello mushrooms and it's only been an hour since I had breakfast! Incidentally, the Tuguegarao longganisa I ate was yummy and along with spicy vinegar generously sprinkled with salt, it's hi-blood special, but what the heck, it was darn good, anyway. Yesterday, Ate K-- gave me Royce chocolates for Mother's Day. It's in the fridge right now...maybe time for a bite?

Food, food, food. But wait, there's more.

For most of last week, in the office, I've been having Hungarian sausage with buttered toast for lunch. Thirty minutes before that hour, I'd be almost giddy with excitement for said fare and then, thirty minutes into that hour, I'd be pushing my plate away, half of the meal still on the plate. My friend K-- would mutter how I never finish my food and then would dig into my left-overs and S-- would prod me, "finish your food, Shan, You need to eat." Yesterday, while I was out with the kids, I ordered sizzling tenderloin tips and ended up eating only a fourth of the Java rice and almost choking from trying to force myself to finish the ulam. During dinner, I merely picked on the roast beef and fish fillet I had on my plate. The host kept asking me to go for seconds and I had a hard time trying to smile and say "yes, later, thank you," knowing there weren't to be any seconds or thirds for me.

I have that takaw-tingin syndrome that is on its way to becoming worse. A few days ago, a colleague told me I was losing too much weight, which surprised me because every look in the mirror would leave me extremely dissatisfied about my arms (and I was wearing a sleeveless top that day). Anyway, I said "thank you" and he was, like, "what's there to thank me for? You look unhealthy and stressed. Eat!" And I just chuckled and told him that I liked being skinny and he just shook his head and muttered something about not understanding girls and their obsession with skinniness.

But seriously, now, I think I want those chocolates.

That Top 5 Thingie c/o Facebook

On FB, today, I tinkered, once more, with the "Top 5 Things" thingie (love this application!) and, so far, here are two of the lists I came up with...

Top 5 Thigs I Hate To Love That Everyone Else Seems to Like:
1. The Da Vinci Code
2. Paulo Coelho books
3. "Twilight" (movie)
4. the beach
5. Cosmopolitan mag
(note on the list: might offend a lot of peeps here, but hey, to each his own, right? Peace, y'all!)

My Top 5 Dream Jobs:
1. Opera singer
2. writer
3. Broadway actress
4. Museum curator
5. dancer
(note on the list: basta art at pagiging maarte, go ako jan! And look where I am working... in a bank! Ah, the ironies of life and living.)

It's the weekend, my dears! What have ya got cookin'?
=)

Mercury Retrogrades... Again

It being a stormy day and all, life in the office was all sunshine-y today. In some random way, things seemed to be falling into place--I, the people around me, the things around me. Some sort of realignment was taking place and I was happy to find myself in harmony with the rest of the planets--er, world, I mean.

And then I came across this site, from which I read that today, May 7th, Mercury retrogrades for the second time this year. I knew, of course, that this meant heavy rains of the usual system breakdowns falling on us all for the rest of the month (Mercury "turns direct" May 30th) but was puzzled by this particular part of the write-up, which made me look back at, and reassess, how my day really went:

"When Mercury retrogrades, we find that many parts of our life are being revised. Often these revisions can be a surprise or throw us back a step. However, these revisions which occur during a Mercury retrograde, are a "course correction" and provide a stop gap measure until we can review situations. During this time of revision, change is compounded and confusion is created by our reactions to the ever-changing situations. Thus anything started during this time will ultimately be taken back or even revised further, making for a high-frustration time. This will be especially true with changing our minds, reviewing new ideas and our communication being improved and honed so not to be misunderstood.

The best mode to be in during a Mercury retrograde is one of "non-reaction", and with air signs being impacted, things will be changing continually during a Mercury retrograde. Treat the time period as a time of gathering information, yet because the information will be in constant change it would be like trying to comb your hair in a wind storm. Best to wait until the changes stop before attempting to make things orderly. Therefore, just let the winds of situations blow around you without reacting. Once Mercury turns direct, take a look at the information that is still around at that time and go about putting everything in order, while maintaining the fine art of flexibility."

Call me superstitious. Because I am.
=)

Waiting for Dave

Dave Matthews Band, "Big Whiskey and the Groogrux King"
Release date: June 2, 2009

Check.

I've crossed out this movie from my to-watch list.



Why?

Because I've already seen it, that's why.
=)

Like "Taken," this movie is astig, just as long as the know-it-alls don't bend hell just so they could put in that credibility-and-storyline-and-serious-talk shit.

Seriously.

Synecdoche, New York

A: That was stupefying. Downright stupefying.
B: I know. Kaufman's movies always, always make me think. But this has got to be the worst! Damn that guy!
A: (laughs)
B: Initially, the line--if there was one, initially, that is--between reality and otherwise was imperceptible. Then it appeared, just enough for one to sense that there was one. And then it kinda opened up, very gradually, until it became a gaping mouth. You know, like this (gesturing with the left hand, in an attempt to illustrate the point). Unbelievable.
A: Cool. You've always been better at words.
B: Oh, yeah? So, we might say that I'm more...what's the word--articulate?
A: Yup. You're more articulate.
B: Which means you're deeper than I am.
A: Oh, yeah? How's that?
B: You know, because the more one talks, the more out there it is. And once it's out there, it stays the way it is. But because you keep it all in, you keep going deeper and deeper and it never really ends. You just keep finding stuff, you know?
A: (laughs) I never thought of it that way.
B: Oh, sure you have. But, hey, did this get shown in the theaters?
A: You mean, here? Hell, no. But in the US, yeah it did.
B: Wasn't a hit, was it?
A: Nope. A movie like that? No way.
B: But what did the critics say?
A: It wasn't as well-received as Kaufman's other films.
B: Hmm..
A: 'Cause it's not really much of a movie experience, you know. More of an art experience. It's too complex. Obtuse, at its worst. Kaufman must still have been on screenwriter mode when he directed this.
B: See, you're articulate, too.
A: (laughs)
B: The ending is just something else. Damn, that was a good one.
A: So, time for Roger Ebert?
B: In a while. So, hey, what about that Genius Grant?
A: Yeah, sure would be great to be given that. Would mean a lot of pressure, though. Did you know that David Foster Wallace had one?
B: Hmm. Probably why he killed himself.

Saturday Night Trippin'

I had to choose, between two movies, which one to watch first. And, after my very high-strung week, I'm glad I chose this:



"I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." -Harry Burns-

And now, on to this:

All those cliches about merry-go-rounds, roller coasters, wheels, et cetera have more than a grain of truth in them: round things do turn; circles make cycles; cycles go in circles.

If, at any point in our lives, we may have felt that rock-bottom was within reach--or if we've actually touched rock-bottom, or even spent a while lying on its hard, jagged surface--really, don't the hands of the clock always tick towards the left?

Of course, I'm right.

So if your back is touching cold, hard stone today, do look upward--you'll be on your way there, soon.

Might as well get used to the discomfort, though. Better to remember the feel of rock-bottom than to have to start all over in befriending the pain once the next drop comes.

We ask that life be kind...
- from "The Prayer"-

Truth is, we are all children trying to find our way in this world.

Words

by Dana Gioia

The world does not need words. It articulates itself
in sunlight, leaves, and shadows. The stones on the path
are no less real for lying uncatalogued and uncounted.
The fluent leaves speak only the dialect of pure being.
The kiss is still fully itself though no words were spoken.

And one word transforms it into something less or other--
illicit, chaste, perfunctory, conjugal, covert.
Even calling it a kiss betrays the fluster of hands
glancing the skin or gripping a shoulder, the slow
arching of neck or knee, the silent touching of tongues.

Yet the stones remain less real to those who cannot
name them, or read the mute syllables graven in silica.
To see a red stone is less than seeing it as jasper--
metamorphic quartz, cousin to the flint the Kiowa
carved as arrowheads. To name is to know and remember.

The sunlight needs no praise piercing the rainclouds,
painting the rocks and leaves with light, then dissolving
each lucent droplet back into the clouds that engendered it.
The daylight needs no praise, and so we praise it always--
greater than ourselves and all the airy words we summon.

please someone put a title to this

Whatever rocks your boat, beautiful, do it before they tell you not to. Everybody says don't as the song goes but few people I know actually know that song and fewer still like that song, or could sing to that song. My mind feels light as air or something similar to air and I really should be fumbling for a pillow to lay my head on. I've been complaining about not having had enough sleep and now the words come out of my fingers as if they were gushing out and I am not aware what sentence I am in or if what I am writing is still a sentence and it should be good to let go at times but there is still that --that-- I can't find the darn word oh yeah, that neurotic compulsion--even when one is afloat--to look back and check if the sentence is still following its proper thread or if the punctuation is correct but at this point it'll be too far behind to look back and really see what one has gone through as there are things that we, even with the utmost earnestness at bringing back we can no longer bring back, or change, or wipe clean no matter how we try to wipe things clean they remain stained or tainted with something what that something is we could not put our finger on or even think of naming because our mouths have run out of names to give to the things we see and hear and touch and cannot we drift along like words falling from the mind to the page, in streams sometimes in drops when the mind draws blank after blank after blank.

And what do you know of my griefs?

Broadway Frenzy via YouTube

Some lasting impressions:

1. Bernadette Peters has this amazing performance of "Being Alive" from Sondheim's Company at the "Hey, Mr. Producer" concert. She is one feisty redhead! Click here to watch.

2. Robert Cuccioli is hysterically wonderful as Dr. Jekyll/Mr Hyde in Jekyll and Hyde. Click here for his moment in "This is the Moment."

3. Lea Salonga awes as Fantine in Les Miserables. Is there anything this girl cannot do? Watch her here.

4. I love this clip of Mandy Patinkin singing "Children Will Listen" from Into The Woods. Here, he sings a medley of "Loving You" from Passion and one of my all-time favorite Broadway songs "If I Loved You" from Carousel.

5. In this clip, Michael Ball sings "I Only Want To Say" from Jesus Christ Superstar with such aplomb that I played it over and over when I bought the Andrew Lloyd Webber 50th Birthday Concert DVD. Il est magnifique!

6. Michele Marsh, as Hodel, sings "Far From the Home I Love," perhaps one of the saddest songs from The Fiddler on the Roof. And, of course, "Matchmaker"!

7. I read somewhere that Vanessa Redgrave, by far, overshadowed Julie Andrews in the Guinevere role (Camelot) and I couldn't agree more. In "The Lusty Month of May" and "Take Me To The Fair," she delights as the slightly bored, inwardly playful, scheming, perpetually singing queen.

8. Here, Lea sings the Gershwins' "Someone To Watch Over Me" from Crazy For You in a beautifully laid-back way. And, without a doubt, here is the most beautiful version of "I've Never Been in Love Before" (from Guys and Dolls) I have ever heard.

I could go on and on.

Some other time, perhaps.
=)

I want to read

this:

this:

and this:

So let me try to change the way I look at the rain and, perhaps, I'd find something else in it...

Does the rain in Paris speak French?

Yeah, I know, it's a stupid question.

Oh, well.

photo from A Cup of Jo.