December 17 ---

And I am only halfway through my design project.

My team is already drowning from the deluge of design templates we have to work on.

It might take me until December 2008 to finish wrapping my Christmas presents.

I have not packed my travel stuff.

I have not done anything for my graduate thesis. And I mean ANYTHING. Not even thoroughly read my course instructions. I was on the verge of dropping my thesis subject already when Miss Lota from the admin office discouraged me. "Lahat ng students nag-i-extend for thesis. Mag-residency ka na lang next semester."

When you seem hopeless, that is music to your ears. Hallelujah!

Pinahinga mo ko nang maluwag, Miss Lota.

I have not gone to the laundromat to dry clean my "wedding dress" for Marc and Thet's wedding.

'Didn't help that I had a broken water pipe in the apartment and grounded lighting in my bathroom which I needed fixed this morning.

I'm grateful for all the things I need to do, mind you.

Unwrapped gifts mean I have a lot of friends to give them to.

Broken pipes and grounded light bulbs mean I have a warm, cozy apartment that I go home to every night.

Potentially-dropped subject means I am going to school --- one of my real passions. And that I am finally --- finally doing my thesis.

But I need more time.

Lord, thank you for all the blessings.

Pero palimos ng kaunting oras.

Make Up and Break Up... That's All We Do

This was actually playing on the radio when I was driving one time with Rico on the streets of Makati.

After a very quick pause, we both laughed so hard.

Because that's exactly what we did.

He flew all the way from Hong Kong to Manila to break up with me a few weeks ago. Only to make it up again.

This week is a repeat performance.

No, we didn't break up.

But there was a lof of making up to do.

On his end - not mine.

Okay, fine - pagbigyan.

He is trying, in fairness.

Sige nga... pamper the Princess.

I dare you. =)

But thanks for trying.

Bitch feel-good

The Bitch is still on feel-good mode.

No-work Friday, chilly afternoon, Sex and the City reruns, Ronco del Gnemiz chardonnay.

My solitude. My writing.

Puuurrrrr-fect!

It’s a rare moment for me to be unperturbed and undisturbed.

Welcome, girl uninterrupted.

While the world out there remains a veritable playground of chaos, I welcome the comfortable recluse of my vanilla-smelling apartment, my chocolate brown couch and the sight of Carrie and Big.

How can I possibly go on a ranting rampage?

Sorry to disappoint, Arlene…

But it’s a wonderful day on the bitchfront.

On my mental playlist: Walking on Sunshine

Hong Kong Loot

Hello, lover. I finally have you.

This is the exact Scuderia Ferrari women's jacket that I wanted and posted here in my blog.

And I now got it.

Courtesy of Boyfriend.

We found it at The Peak shopping mall. Although I almost couldn't close my humongous suitcase anymore because I literally hoarded shoes and fall clothes, this is one of the (if not THE) highlights of my shopping escapade.

Thanks a gazillion, Boyfriend!

Random Strawberry Thoughts

An attempt to be coherent on a blood-shut puyat Monday.

My fault – slept at almost 4 in the morning watching Formula One finals. Kimi Raikkonen won. And was the fastest lap at that. So it was all worth it.

Random blah-blah over Cathy B’s strawberry wine:

1. MiniMadMod ‘60s birthday party. TOTAL BLAST. Besties were there. Inner circle in full attendance. 3 birthday cakes. Everyone made the effort to feel the ‘60s vibe by dressing up and donning higher than the ceiling hairdos. What more can I ask for?

2. Cosmic universe. He gave me the cosmic universe. Wore a ‘60s wig and an oversized shades in my birthday party. Sincerely entertained my friends. Indulged me with my favorite foie’ gras. The man of my life.

3. Aji Ichiban Kasugai gummy bears. I’m on my 9^th as of this writing. Let me not count the calories. Uber yummy.

4. Redecorating the apartment – my current obsession. Can’t wait to fill one of my bedroom wall up with memory boards.

5. More October birthdays. Ka-birthday Andoy. My Yaya. Ryan. Cathy. Charmaine. Candy. Beautiful Libras.

6. Glorietta 2 blast. Bombing or gas leak? Conspiracy theories. SUCKS. The airport was filled with fleeing foreigners the entire weekend.

7. Hong Kong. I. CANNOT. WAIT.

8. Role revision. Novelty. Fantasy lesbian girlfriend. A time extension to the unmarried life. These, according to your friends. But who am I, according to you?

9. Grandmother. I miss your strength. Your conviction. Your sense of direction.

10. Formula One. Dreaming of the Singapore night race. And the Fullerton Hotel. And the Sunday brunch. And seeing Kimi in action. And wearing that Scuderia Ferrari red jacket.

Thirtyness

I officially left the 20-something period.

Today is the day.

Thank you, friends, for making this life uber fab.

Plugging:

Thank you, Mom, for the love.

To my Grandmother, this is my first birthday that you are not here. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you.

Gemma, Ariel and Ate Mirs - for being the first to greet me when the clock struck 12.

To Rico - for giving me the cosmic universe. For making sure I had a birthday cake and a candle to blow.

Cheers, people!

Sunday morning: Lofty Ponderings on Friendship and Loyalty

Last weekend was a blur of psychedelic pink and purple haze, as I plunged myself into a frenzy of errands and rendezvous with the inner circle.

I call it the moment of compensation, as I have been an absentee friend to some of the important allies and faithful comrades.

After my first Mandarin class at the Shangri-La on Saturday morning, Me-ann and Yoj joined me as I revisited memories of college past as I drove to UP Diliman.

Seeing those old, tall acacia trees enveloping the Diliman sky around the Sunken Garden makes me feel… at home.

In the evening, I had to rush back home for a quick shower and dolling up to make it to the 7:30 dinner with Doji at Mezzaluna, Serendra.

[A side note: despite the slew of good restaurants in the area, the difficulty in parking that plays like a grown-up Nickelodeon version of a physical challenge inside my head discourages me to keep on going there for dinners.]

I have not seen Doji for months – as schedule and mood permitted otherwise. He was surprised that I brought him Italian Chardonnay when there wasn’t any occasion. Little did he know that it was my unspoken apology for not texting back or being too lazy to answer the phone when he calls. I know. Guilty as charged.

We shared pan-fried foie gras, gorged into shrimp and salmon for main course and downed a bottle of Looming Room Cabernet Sauvignon. We concluded this indulgence with Sonja’s Peppermint Patty cupcakes. [Thought bubble: may sasarap pa ba?]

I got home at past midnight. Tired as I was, I didn’t have the luxury to sleep off the entire Sunday, as it was already devoted to driving off to Tagaytay with Celia for Sunday brunch.

I was in a wine and foie gras streak, so I ordered foie gras salad and lamb shank. Celia and I shared yet another bottle of Cab Sauv.

A bit giddy with the wine, we scoured for bamboo window blinds and hydrangeas for Celia’s new apartment. We got back to Manila at half past seven.

Fast-forwarding to Thursday, I capped off the week by inviting friends over to the apartment to share some strawberry vodka and Superdry. Che, She and Jonathan came. The girls scoured through my cabinet for clothes and accessories as Jonathan devoured the entire pack of my sugar-free chocolate fudge cookies.

As they bade me goodbye, planted small besos on my cheeks and as I closed the door behind them, I couldn’t help but feel melancholic and moved at the same time.

I was stirred.

I recalled my conversation with Celia. We had the same take on friendship. Friends are family. They are your refuge in moments of sorrow and your pillar of strength when fate deluges you with everything difficult. It’s a commitment and an obligation to protect the friendship, to keep and nurture it. These are the people you want to keep until you are old and wrinkly.

A very important epiphany that hit me, and I dare follow it up courageously with an emo statement:

I may not be wealthy in everything, but this lifetime blessed me with true, loyal friends.

Some friendships date as far back as kindergarten and first grade. Others already withstood a decade of fights, break-ups and personal crises.

I have a list of people who I can call in the middle of the night when I’m desperately seeking for a soothing voice on the other side of the line. Conversely, I feel flattered that friends run to me at five in the morning to ask for rescue. Or just sob their hearts out until they are as hoarse as voices crying from the grave and their eyes are as puffy and as pink as mandarin slices.

Perhaps, this is a small tribute to the loyalty that my friends gave me. Loyalty, love and friendship that humble me and keep me grounded.

Celia and Gemma – you remain the first two people on the list, the two people who will feel as I do. Dance, cry, laugh and fight as hard as I did and as I will.

Ian – my lost brother and 911. I miss you. Despite the circumstances that prevent us from sharing more, you don’t have to say anything to make me understand. I just hope you know you don’t need to.

Nabeth and Me-ann – you literally shared my tears when I thought I lost love again for the nth time. Until this day, I am moved when I remember how you cried for me, how you held my hand and embraced me as your friend. Your empathy is eternally seared in my memory.

Che, Owy, Janneth, She, Marc, Jonathan, Ryan – you are the fondest memories of my youth, my childhood. You are the shards of glass in the mirror that made me who I am and who I still want to be.

Jovan, Yoj, Yasmine, Ariel. For life’s wisdom and insights. Both practical and ephemeral. For the trust and confidence, did I ever express my gratitude?

Romy and Doji - your faith in me made me work harder and survive the fierce world out there. You believed in my dreams. Thank you for the lifetime mentoring.

Arlene – hang in there. There is wisdom in pain and maturity in forgiveness. For yourself and her.

“For friendship builds an eternal web of life and love. A friend is a brother, a sister not of blood but of fate and loyalty cast and sworn into, perhaps during brief moments or a period of a lifetime.”

Poison: Illusions of Grandeur

You dress in a white gown to hide your murky, lecherous soul. You feign innocence with your wide-eyed expression. You stare blankly at someone seemingly to imbue incorruptibility to conceal your dark, evil thoughts.

Pristine. Immaculate. Meek. Gentle. Kind.

You can fool them. But not me.

Donyita, que pasa?

You are shrouded with envy.

I see through you.

Beneath the white robe, you are eviscerated by slithering worms gorging through your pit.

You are nothing but a putrid, insignificant soul who wants to banish other unassuming spirits to be just like you.

I can see you.

Jealous. Frivolous. Friendless.

You don’t deceive me.

Mail Undeliverable: A Year of the Unspoken

I wrote this for him a few months back - I can't remember if it was last year. I'm not sure if I sent it... or if he remembers I did.

-------------------------------------------------

A plethora of emotions all at the same time.

Passion. Love. Happiness. Ecstasy.

Hatred. Remorse. Anguish. Pain.

All for one and only one person.

And perhaps, this dichotomy is what actually draws us together.

Both conflict and similarities make up this strong connection, this uncanny bond that you and I have. That you and I share.

I am drawn to you yet I am appalled by the attraction.

I want to let go, but the more I try to, the more I am coveted.

What brings writhing pain is the reality that the present doesn’t allow us to be together.

You think of me as juvenile, but I am beyond the years I have lived.

Wide-eyed and hopeful, yet also cynical and cautious.

It is uncertain if I believe in forever and ever. Or fairy tale endings.

I always thought that living happily ever after is an evasive and obscure conclusion that happens only in books of children ages 3 until 7.

I don’t know if someone like you does, too.

But if in case you do, may I ask you?

What are you doing for the rest of your life? Do you believe in sharing it with someone?

If and when the rest of your life begins,

Will you find me?

Seeing through

Hers was another hurried morning
A quarter after nine and
She needed to set out
Expectedly, she filled her Sunday
With errands and rendezvous
Looking forward to an extended
Sunday brunch at the lakeside

Pacing back and forth
In front of her dresser
She pulled over her romper
Checked her reflection
Put on her mascara
Glided her berry lipstick
And puckered her lips

As she tied the lace of her platforms
And looked up again
There she was in front of the mirror
The little girl with a stubby face
Small nose that looked like a button
Beneath the peach shades on her cheeks
She never really changed

Her hazel eyes are aged by wisdom
Expression deepened by experience
Wiser than her years
Yet her child-likeness remains
As the little girl stared right back
And smiled sweetly she realized
She remains the heiress to Florentine.

Randomizer

Apple-dapple

Apple chips have this Pringles effect on me. Once I pop, I can’t stop. I can down a big bag all by myself. Good thing they're fat-free and natural.

Let me not count the calories.

Vanity flair

My stylist Topher went to lala-land several months back. He’s been MIA for almost 5 months now and as my hair needed some fussin’ and lovin’, I was compelled to do the big search.

The Universe definitely has an excellent way of intervening. As I went to Podium to look for my new stylist, I demanded that the salon give me the most senior in the Brady Gay Bunch. Jonas was the senior stylist who was in at the moment so it has got to be him. After a few minutes of tete-a-tete – and actually more of me ranting that I lost Topher – Jonas belted out a big exaggerated gasp.

They are best friends. What a funny coincidence.

Anyway, it turns out that Jonas just got back from Singapore to train at Toni and Guy. And some training he got!

I am the first to have the teardrop highlights – with burgundy, phoenix red and dark blonde streaks splashed horizontally across my hair.

I have a new best friend.

Café Mocha stress-buster

As my days at work start to become relentlessly stressful, I turn to my ever-reliable mood-lifter.

Starbucks fat-free, no whip cream Café Mocha.

Nabeth and I snuck out after lunch to get 2 tall glasses for both of us.

Talk about temporary bliss.

Happy mush

With his broken Tagalog,

With his sometimes childish mannerisms

His being earnest

His inability to deceive

He never fails to make me smile.

Past present

In moments when you need casual conversations
Or someone to humor you
Or someone to just be there
Staring at the blue-painted walls of your bedroom
Pensive, quiet
Or perhaps sharing the newspaper at breakfast
Sipping what used to be our favorite coffee

We can talk
I can be an animated company
In moments when you’re unwell
In moments like this
I wish you’re not alone
I wish I can be there
We were friends, after all.

Adrift

The greatest travesty of love and goodness is doubt.

To doubt is to set adrift in the abyss of paranoia, diffidence and fear.

Fear leads to selfishness and heartless adamancy.

You besieged me with your love, yet threatened to withdraw when everything frightened you.

You left me in the marshland of uncertainty.

Once again.

I am set adrift.

Long live Anita!

The 3 most influential women in my life:

1. My Grandmother

2. Dame Anita Roddick

3. Madonna

The last two are celebrities in their own right that I worship and light candles for.

Not everyone is fortunate to meet their icons.

Not only did I meet mine, but I also worked with and was mentored by Dame Anita Roddick in 2004.

Having worked for The Body Shop, I was given the rare opportunity to be with Anita during her visit in Manila in November 2004. I personally attended to her – from ensuring that she got her favorite bergamot cologne inside the hotel room up to joining her in press conferences and interviews to answer beauty editors and Boy Abunda’s questions.

We spent time together day in and day out – with only her speeches and sleep interrupting our mundane banters about hair and make-up and deep conversations about her advocacies and freeing political prisoners in Angola.

I was so stars-truck. I adored her so much. I admired her courage, generosity and good heart.

In my book, she is the epitome of a Superwoman. She was a fireball.

Anita Roddick is passion personified.

As a tribute, I named the first car I bought after her.

I forever keep the African bracelet she gave me wrapped in my bedpost.

Yesterday, I was saddened by the news of her sudden passing away. She succumbed to brain hemorrhage on Monday.

Dame Anita, you will be awfully missed. The whole world lost a very important pioneer and champion. From the UK, to Africa, to Asia, this terrible lost is felt.

As I do.

For those of us who are left, we will keep the fire burning.

We will continue to hold the torch of passion.

Long live, Dame Anita.

Long live life’s passion and purpose.

For more information on her advocacies, please visit anitaroddick.com.

(photo courtesy of Anita Roddick web site.)

Just when I thought I was beyond surprises…

…the Universe launches a preemptive strike.

Just when I can feel my fangs growing and my horns emerging from the back of my head… God brings forth salvation and stops me from crying “kvetch, kvetch, kvetch!”

Borrowing from Carlos Celdran, that is.

Wednesday evening, I was on the verge of another melancholic moment. I was sick (literally, at that), I was tired from work and I was missing Boyfriend’s kulit-mode and embrace.

I was having the ultimate bad trip.

I was about to launch a Bitch attack, armed with my laptop, sipping cranberry juice and slumped on my chocolate brown couch, I was typing away angst-ridden thoughts.

At the strike of midnight, I heard knocking on my door.

Irritably, I went for it, thinking – maintenance guy doing midnight rounds?

When I opened the door, there he was…

My knight in shining blue plaid Tommy shirt.

He wasn’t due back in Manila.

And this was a two-in-a-row surprise visit in a span of two weeks.

Now tell me if I still have a reason to bitch.

I have to give it to Mike.

Life… is definitely good.

Work my Magic

Straight from my Inbox, a dear friend from the US wrote:

“I’m a constant lurker in your blog. You're happier these days. I loved you more when you were darker. Bitchier. What ever happened to the Bitch? Bring the Bitch back, please!

You’re effin’ too sugar n’ spice, I cannot believe you’re still the one writing. I don’t love you less, but I know you’re keepin’ a lot. Spill the fuckin’ beans!”

Have I been, really?

Sugar n’ spice, everythin’ nice, I mean?

The Ex-Boyfriend’s skin would have crawled by now if he heard this.

Three years ago --- nice --- is not a word to describe me.

I have not turned my back away from the Fight Club.

No, I never did.

I just decided to bite my tongue a bit longer.

And bite my tongue I did. To the point of almost bleeding and bludgeoning myself to death.

Shall I bite any longer?

Half-evil, half-angel. Partly jaded, partly grounded.

Sinner, saint.

The reality is, I will always bear this dichotomy with me.

I’m not the only one guilty of murder by sheer imagination.

The Bitch shall rise once provoked.

Thou… shall… not… tempt… me.

Thirty-ness

… is a term coined during my best friend Ian’s birthday.

And this post, came way ahead of my birthday.

On the average, most of the girlfriends I grew up with and hang out with are either nearing 30 or a few years past it.

All of my high school girlfriends (including myself) are celebrating and toasting to “thirty-ness” this year.

With this landmark in the age department, it’s not strange for women to feel panic and yell “quarter life crisis.”

It doesn’t quite help when guy friends cajole and tease girls who don’t have boyfriends or aren’t married yet – that they are nearly in their last trip.

What the hell do you mean about last trip?

I can’t help but feel my ears go red and my heart pound with fury whenever I hear this.

Although I wouldn’t want to expend a lot of my effort tracing where this fallacy came from and who in their right minds ever propagated this belief, I’m certainly not pleased.

Women are not like milk stamped with expiration dates.

And 30 --- is definitely not the end of the line.

I have seen women who only got more beautiful and fabulous beyond this mark.

Two years back, I looked at B.’s girl friends in awe and marvel at how drop-dead gorgeous most of them are. I met Lyn when she was 34 and she looked like she was only 25! Marose doesn’t look a day older than 30 and my jaw dropped when I found out she was beyond 37. Zoe’s wisecracks and bubbliness makes her seem like we’re of the same age.

B. is not bad herself – at 35 (happy birthday, B!), she looks astoundingly cute in her androgyny and ever so charming with her sense of humor.

And these women, may I add, are having the time of their lives.

Time spent with them was never a bore. They know how to have sensible fun and the sense of humor is witty, sly, sarcastic even. But everyone definitely knows how to laugh.

And yes, these women are moneyed honeys who can pay for everything on their own. Shopping, wining and dining - crucify me for the cliche', but sky is the limit.

Some women feel depressed during this time and age. I cannot blame them, what with the proliferating lies and misconceptions about being 30… or beyond.

I can even humbly admit that I, too, was afraid that I would feel the same because other people (SPELL: relatives, guy friends, married friends) make you feel that you have to panic at this time.

That you, single girl, should get your act together and try to get married.

Whoever said married women have cleaned up all their acts (although this is another issue altogether)?

I am happy for my girlfriends who have found happiness in marital bliss.

But I’m also making a toast to 30-something friends who are basking in the glory of their careers and single-blessedness. Boyfriend or no boyfriend, they’re all fab.

To the guy friends who still subscribe to the stigma that 30 has, BEAT IT. You’re just as scared as the women you are bullying. We’re not the ones who worry about receding hairlines. And not being needed anymore by women who can make it on their own.

To my fantabulous 30ish girlfriends, as how my high school girls put it, cheers to thirtyness!

Happy 30^th birthday, Janneth, Che, Elisa, Sherry and Owy --- my high school posse’ who stuck for more than 10 years now.

30…is the new 20.

Staying sane

There’s something about Fridays that makes me feel sooooooooo much better after a tough week.

This week has been extraordinarily intense that I felt it drain and suck the life out of me.

I was uninspired, I had dampened spirits, I was pissed off and I had to deal with a lot of people’s sh*t.

When times get tough, a few things to remember and/or arm yourself with:

1. You gotta learn how to dance, honey. Dance to the tempo of politics, dance your way around complications, difficult people and situations. You just have to learn how to deal.

2. When life is unfair, when people are unjust – you don’t have to do the same. Try to be fair. The Universe knows how to give back… and take something back that isn’t rightfully yours.

3. Chocolates. The fastest mood pick-up. If you’re on a diet, then opt for Godiva’s 70% cocoa dark chocolates. Yummers.

4. Alcohol. Red wine. Chardonnay. Margaritas. Vodka. 80 proof. Gin Bulag. Whatever you’ve got. Just as long as you know how to drink. Never put it in your head. Take it straight to your stomach. Never drink and drive.

5. Feel-good movies. Chic-flick, Comedy – again, whatever have you. Hell, even porn. For as long as it makes you feel good.

6. Spa. My Nirvana. The ultimate way to calm the nerves and the mind when everything is just oh-so stressful. Hit Sanctuario or Urban Spa.

7. Friends. Nothing beats beating the blues or any bad trip through the company of fantabulous friends. Alcohol and chocolates taste so much better with them.

So tonight, that’s exactly what it is. A laidback evening with beautiful girlfriends who will do nothing but chat, watch DVDs, munch on pizza and chocolates and down strawberry vodkas.

‘Week’s not that bad after all.

Bohol highlights

Last week’s 3-day weekend was spent in Bohol with Boyfriend.

I have to commend Bohol’s local government for making the province uber tourist-friendly. The place is lovely, what with its nature spots and sights, and the very organized day tours.

Here’s my top 10 list of Bohol raves:

1. Nice, clean, safe place – no squatters, no beggars, no pollution. The place is pristine!

2. Old churches and museums – we both love going to museums so it’s nice that Bohol has a lot of old churches still boasting of old religious relics. Baclayon church is a must-see.

3. Organized day tour – from the pick-up to the Tagbilaran airport at 10am, we were ushered to the van that will take us to the whole day trip to the city. All the pit stops were planned. When a tourist spot is filled with other tourists taking the day tour, the tour guides know well enough to skip it and move to another place and just go back later on in the day when there’s not a lot of people.

4. Loboc river lunch “cruise” – actually, the food was so-so. Nothing uber fab but the idea of eating lunch in a floating restaurant, cruising in an unpolluted river is a great experience in itself.

5. Chocolate Hills – considered to be the 8th wonder of the world. Hello? Need I say more?

6. Tarsier – I’ve only seen them in pictures. They look more like rats, if you ask me. They’re cute. I was actually annoyed by hard-headed, inconsiderate tourists who kept on touching them and tugging at their tails when the guides specifically told us not to do so.

7. White sand beach – although the fine white sand of Bora is still on top of my list, Bohol’s shoreline is not bad at all! Clean, clear – with the fish swimming around you in only 2 feet of water.

8. Panglao Nature Island Resort – can compete internationally. Very well-maintained. Very private. Loved our bungalow room with its own Jacuzzi.

9. Infinity pool with a cocktail bar on the side – with your feet submerged under the pool, you can down your margaritas and rum coke and wade in the pool at the same time. How fantab! The pool also overlooks the beach so when you take a photo, you have this optical illusion that the pool stretches to the sea.

10. Mit-hi Spa at the resort – I placed this last because Mit-hi Spa, is by far, the best spa I have ever been into! Boyfriend and I have tried the best spas in the city and in Thailand but we were surprised at the massage technique here. If you want a beck and call service in a spa, this is the place to be.

Bottomline, if you want an uber worth it local trip, pack your bags and head to Bohol.

Don’t forget your bikinis!

Joie De Vivre

Happiness...

1. Having the time and the means to get away during long weekends.

2. Quiet beach trips. The feel of fine white sand on my bare feet. The sound of waves crashing on the rocks. Margaritas and rum cokes while sunbathing at the pool side.

3. Jet ski racing.

4. A 2-hour soothing aromatherapy massage.

5. Pizza and vodka cooler nights in my apartment with girlfriends to cap a hectic week.

6. DVD marathons. Matrix Trilogy. Entourage. Chick Flicks.

7. Staying in at Mandarin for a week and ordering room service.

8. Hoarding books during Powerbooks 70% off sale.

9. Quiet evenings just reading, armed with a hot cup of chocolate or soya milk.

10. Bags, bags, bags.

11. Shopping. Of any kind.

12. Museum and art gallery tours.

13. Happy mornings = not having to wake up super early for work and seeing him sleeping beside me like a baby.

14. Hong Kong. Travel.

15.












Enough said.

Pocket notes

Pa-witty shirt

While lining up to pay for bills inside the bank, I saw this printed at the back of a girl's shirt:

"The secret to successful managing is to keep 4 guys who hate you away from the 5 guys who haven't made up their minds."

It just made me smile so I had to whip out my Treo to scribble it down.


Pretty Fit not quite pretty

I don't normally buy shoes at Pretty Fit. I'm more of a Schu, Nine West, Charles and Keith, Wade and Miu Miu (only if I want to splurge) person. I'm also into the cheap but sturdy local brands that are Marikina-made.

Around 3 weeks ago, I was window-shopping with Nabeth at the Shangri-La EDSA Plaza. After purchasing some cheapo make-up at Mimi, we decided to enter Pretty Fit as we were lured inside by the big SALE sign.

I purchased a pair of black and white pointy-toe patent pumps. Since they perfectly matched my day's outfit, I giddily slid into them to wear them for the day.

Wearing them only 3 times, the rubber soles on the heels broke. I blamed this on the rocky Ortigas parking lot.

Off I went to Mr. Quickie to have it fixed for P150.

A week passed before I wore the pair again.

Walking out of the conference room from a meeting, I felt this faint "tuk" sound on my left foot. Looking down, I was horrified to see the entire left heel break!

Mentos moment talaga ito!

I had to run to Robinsons and buy a new pair of black patent heels and go back to Mr. Quickie to have the heel repaired - again! I was charged 50 bucks for it.

Whatdaff???

I paid more than a thousand bucks for the pair - considering that it's 40% off.

Total rip-off.

I'm wondering now where Pretty Fit gets their shoes made. China, perhaps?

The local brands (including B Club that I had to buy when the Pretty Fit pair broke) fair way better.

Monday post-its

Walk This Way Manila Tour

Thank you, Carlos Celdran , for a fab walking tour of San Agustin Church-Museum and Casa Manila.

I soooooooooo love you!

You made me see Manila and our history in a different light. And you so made my weekend.

I am now officially a fan.

Friends, if you've seen Intramuros before (and I know most of you did), it's still worth it to have a guided tour with Carlos Celdran.

He also has guided tours for Escolta, Binondo and Corregidor.

Check out his blog site.


Becoming (in)famous

I'm getting hate comments on my blog!

(Check the comment portion of my last blog entry.)

Gasp!

Uuuuuy.

Friends say I should be flattered.

Infamy of any sort is still an indication of fame. Hahaha!

I guess, in a way it's true.

I wasn't negatively affected by it, nor am I glorifying the person who posted that comment (which by the way I won't delete even if I have the capacity to - just to display the tastelessness of it all).

For one, blogs are supposed to be expressions of personal tastes and viewpoints. If you are offended or displeased by someone's personal blog - then STOP READING IT.

It's actually your choice to piss yourself off.

If I am feelingera?

OF COURSE!

That's why I have a blog.

Darling, if you find whatever is written here despicable, then do yourself a favor:

1. Stop reading my blog.
2. Create your own blog. You can bash me there, too - but thank you for the plugging.
3. Get your own life. So you can blog about it!
   

Masama mainggit.

Stop sending so nega vibes and spread the love. ;)

In her memory

I dreamt of her for two consecutive nights. A pang of guilt hit me since I wasn’t able to visit her last Saturday, as the family promised to visit her every month.

A lot of people say that I took after Nanay. Her strength, her independence, her character.

I’m inclined to agree. Even at a young age, I can relate to her more than I did with my mother.

According to Chinese beliefs, when a grandparent or parent passes away, the first born child or the favorite one is showered with a lot of blessings in the next coming years.

I’m not really sure if I believe in that, but it certainly is happening to me. And not even a year has gone by.

Four months after Nanay passed away, my life and my personal perspective turned 180 degrees.

I’m doing fabulously well at work. My boss-friend is pleased with my performance. On top of that, I got an unexpected salary increase that I could only get after 2 or 3 years if we follow the company’s yearly percentage increment.

My projects are all launching on time – as I was blessed with marvelously efficient teammates – thank you, Me-Ann and Charo!

My friends/teammates in the office got promoted and I’m genuinely happy for them. They both deserve it. More importantly, I’m proud to have a hand in one of the promotions since I initiated it and helped push for it. Although she is under me for barely 4 months, she should have been promoted a long time ago, with her contributions and relentless efforts.

Personal sphere is soaring even higher.

I am reunited with my Dad. And he is into clean living now. Although I have always been Grandma’s girl (and despite his shortcomings to the family), I have always had a soft spot for him. He is my Dad, after all. We text more and talk more now.

My relationship with Rico is getting better and stronger. I was actually surprised with the way he thinks and plans about us (of which I cannot yet disclose). We have had tough times – some of which I cannot even imagine. But his love for me has always been consistent.

I could go on and on.

Things are looking up, to say the least.

Although it’s inevitable to have some bumps and cinches here and there, the bigger picture looks so much better.

To my Grandmother, thank you for looking after me. Thank you for making the Higher Powers listen.

I still think of you --- all the time.

And to the Universe, thank you for listening to my prayers.

I promise to share what I have. And pay it forward.

“The thankful heart is always close to the creative forces of the universe, causing countless blessings to flow toward it by the law of reciprocal relationship, based on a cosmic law of action and reaction.”

-Joseph Murphy, The Power of your Subconscious Mind

Moments of stillness and silence

I’ve observed something both peculiar and familiar about me lately.

Peculiar, in the sense that this is not part of my ritual when I go home to my apartment after work.

Familiar, because it used to be what I liked doing.

I started reading again.

Intently at that.

I used to love the smell of books and libraries. Powerbooks in Greenbelt is Nirvana for me.

In fact, I buy books even when I don’t have the time to read them yet. I just like collecting them – knowing that when I need a dose of Candace Bushnell (of Sex and the City) or Paulo Coelho (of The Alchemist) or even the sometimes morbid and bizarre Gabriel Garcia Marquez (of 100 Years of Solitude), I have a stash in my library that I can just grab.

What’s notable here is not the resurrection of my prolific habit – but the deeper implications of my propensity to read.

I equate reading as a silent moment for me.

And I can only have silent moments when I am at peace with myself.

When I’m restless, I can’t focus on what I’m reading. Hell, I can’t even get myself to finish a chapter.

And restless I have been – for 2 years.

That’s why I can’t get myself to pick up any of my books.

That’s also the reason why up until now, I’m only into Harry Potter book 5.

For 2 years, I stayed in the thoughtless zone of surfing cable channels and watching movies and TV series on DVD.

I zoned out by flipping through the remote control. There was just too much noise inside my head and I tried to drown them out by the noise in the boob tube.

I don’t know how I managed to come in full circle… but a month or so ago, there I was --- reaching for Paulo Coelho’s The Devil and Miss Prym.

I even bought myself a new reading lamp.

From then, when I go home, I would go to my room, turn the air conditioner and my lamp on, read and enjoy a warm cup of hot chocolate or skimmed milk.

What convinced me that I finally regained the peace of mind I have been yearning for a long time:

- Even if I drink too much coffee, I can still sleep soundly at night. With the lights off.

- I used to need to down a couple of glasses of Pinot Noir before I feel sleepy. Now I don’t. I’m actually feeling saturated from red wine right now that I’m shifting to cocktails.

Sleep.

The unmistakable sign of peace and stillness.

And I have God and the Universe to thank for it.

6 Weird Things About Me

What a nice way to end the week – blog!

I haven’t had the time to read friends’ blogs until last night and I found that Chars tagged me, so I’m posting 6 weird things about me (I would actually like to consider them “quirks and eccentricities.” Hahaha):

1. I have a collection of notebooks and journals – from the cheapos to the really expensive ones. Jordi Labandas, Chinese-inspired notebooks, leather-bound ones, Shanghai Tang, Mead. The weird part about it is that I don’t write on them. I just like looking at them and I rejoice in the fact that I have a collection of beautiful notebooks.

2. Whenever I get stressed out at work, I pull out the vanity kit from my bag and retouch my make-up. Cathy B. noticed me doing this.

3. I read a fashion magazine, literally – from cover to cover. I have to sit down and concentrate when reading a fashion mag the way you would a book. I read the table of contents and even the store listing at the back.

4. I am left-handed so I do everything on the left. I need to sleep on the left side of the bed, I need to walk on the left when side by side with someone. Otherwise, I would get disoriented.

5. You would know that I’m talking to a family member when I end my phone conversation with God bless and I love you.

6. When I animatedly tell stories to friends, I have a nasty habit of rolling my eyes and looking like I’m actually angry or bitching about something when I’m actually happy.

I’m tagging the following friends to do this:

- Me-Ann

- Gemma

- Mica

- Ate Mirs

- Colette

- Carmela (if you’re still alive, blog-wise)

Boyfriend 101

For normal couples, this all-familiar story may seem to be a very shallow thing. But for me who sees Boyfriend every 2-3 weeks, it’s a huge deal.

We’re not in that domesticated mode yet, and in a way I’m relieved that we’re not. I want to revel in the nights when I’d run rushing to the door to hug and kiss him to welcome him home (and in this case, home for us is Mandarin Oriental’s Club Floor).

I know that when couples settle in a more familiar mode, nobody goes running to welcome the boyfriend or girlfriend with that giddy face, tight embrace and long lingering kiss anymore. I still want to hold on to moments like this.

And I still want to remember his face light up the moment he sees me again, how he looks at me like I’m the most beautiful, most adorable woman on the face of the earth when he kneels on the side of my bed and brushes the hair off my face. I still want to see those loving eyes look at me as he pulls the blanket over me and kisses me goodnight when I fall asleep watching TV.

Last week, as we spent the weekend in my apartment, he noticed that water in my shower is still running low. He’s been nagging me about it for a couple of weeks now – even on the phone when he remembers it despite his busy sched.

He still has to come to terms with the fact that unless it will flood the entire apartment, girls don’t normally bother - or would even want to make a huge deal – about leaking pipes, faulty shower heads and faucets.

I guess he couldn’t stand it anymore, so on a Sunday morning, while I was preparing our freshly-delivered tapa and tocino brunch, he went to the shower, removed the shower head, cleaned it up and fixed the mangled rubber inside it.

So there we were, on a normal Sunday – sharing a brunch in my apartment, with him successfully fixing my shower.

He fixed my shower.

Of all the things he did for me last week – as he rescued me from old credit card debts, gifted me with a new Christian Dior party bag and bought everyone cocktail drinks during my best friend’s dinner party, this really touched me the most.

It’s a very simple, mundane gesture.

He fixed my shower.

But it made me feel glad and comforted that he’s around.

Mushy.

But this is one of those times I like mush in my life.

Off-balance

Friday. And I so welcome the weekend.

I feel so tired and it's my turn to be a bit under the weather.

Much as I want to dilly-dally, I still have a conference call from 6:00-7:30pm. On a Friday. When everyone else is preparing to go home, attend dinner or cocktail parties, here I am, waiting for the clock to strike 6 and start the con call where my entire team needs to do some mental gymnastics to understand new designs.

I am so not in my element.

For one, hormones. Blame it on the female hormones.

Second, Boyfriend still doesn't seem to get why I take offense when we discuss working or studying abroad and that my only choice is Hong Kong.

Uhhhhh... do I still need to spell that one out?

True - I love the place, the fashion and the seasons. But why would I insist to stay in a country with citizens who dislike speaking in English to customers (who by the way are foreigners who infuse money in this shopping capital/financial district) and who'd eventually like to have a so-called 100% Chinese work force in the not so distant future (for some locally-owned companies, this has been blatantly brandished in their missions and visions)?

Singapore is a lot friendlier these days in terms of welcoming students and expats to study and work there - but I never even considered this option.

Do I even have to explain why?

Sometimes, I'm not sure if he gets it at all.

Or don't I?

I badly need cocktails tonight.

And a very good doze of Zzzzzzzzs.

Of gay men and the kitchen

Gay, gay, happy and gay

It’s no secret. I love gay men. And they love me. I’m a constant fag’s hag, so to speak – the Grace of every Will (not that I had a gay ex-boyfriend, though). And I really like being one.

I watched the Drag Ons show at the Teatrino Promenade in Greenhills. The drag queens were amazing! They’re so pretty and flawless – more so compared to us, girls! The show had great costumes and dance choreography. The intermission numbers and fillers were all ballet.

Ang gaganda talaga nila. After the show, the drag queens mingled with the audience. I had this favorite – Claudia – who was really a stunner. When she went to our table, I couldn’t help myself. I told her: “I soooooo love you!.” Hahaha. What a fan-freak.

It’s a different albeit interesting experience – watching a drag show. And this one isn’t cheap and tacky.

For fag hags like me, you can catch Drag Ons every Friday at Teatrino Promenade, Greenhills. Show starts at 9pm.

Adobo, anyone?

For 2 days now, I’ve been going to the bookstore trying to find a good, user-friendly Filipino cookbook.

And by user-friendly, I meant with visual and graphics of how the dish looks like and easy-to-follow step-by-step guide.

I’ve been obsessing about learning how to cook Filipino dishes since last summer.

Imagine the irony: I can cook chicken scallopini, beef casserole, pasta parmigiana and paella valenciana. Yet I don’t know how to cook menudo or chicken tinola.

I know! I’m a disgrace to my grandmother!

Call me conservative – traditional, even. But for me, no matter how cosmopolitan a woman is, she should at least know how to cook basic things.

Who’d want to live with someone who doesn’t even know how to fry an egg? I’d have to be honest, I still can’t do a perfect sunny side-up until now. That’s why I have to do something about it!

(While writing this part, I remember my Nanay telling me when I was younger that I only know how to boil water and cook rice, with a rice cooker at that!)

A kick-ass girl, I remember Nanay saying, has to have at least these 3 in her metaphorical kitchen:

1. a signature recipe
2. her own signature sandwich; and
3. knowledge of 1 basic dish for breakfast, lunch and dinner

For a Filipina, add to that a family recipe of adobo.

Sounds sensible.

I’m so envious of people who know how to cook Pinoy food. And do it well.

But not for long. =)

Lazy, rainy day

Wednesday. The rain never fails to make people feel lazy. Not to mention hungry. I can't remember how many ham sandwiches I made for myself today and how many chocolate truffles I ate!

Yuppies night tonight so Gemma and I are hitting Cena for cocktails after the gym. Or is it Casa Armas? Craving for Casa's croquettas and Spanish cheese.

Can't concentrate at work. I just want to space out, eat and drink!

As one of the nuninu moments today, I managed to edit my Blog profile on the right.

See. I'm really on lazy-mode. Big time.

Will get myself back on track tomorrow. Promise.

Current Top 5: What I’ve been missing

1. Hong Kong

Right smack in the middle of a hectic Monday, I suddenly missed Hong Kong. I miss landing on Chep La Kok airport, taking the airport express, walking the streets of Tsim Sha Tsui, eating at this cozy Thai restaurant in Hau Fook Street. I miss shopping, riding the MTR. I just miss being in Hong Kong.

2.Margarita nights

Wednesday used to be margarita nights with the ladies at Cena. Gemma and I have not done this for a looooooooong time. Time to revive the tradition. And it starts tomorrow night.

3. Movies

At the end of the day, I’m just way too tired to watch one. If I even dare go, I’m afraid I might just fall asleep! I hope I can watch something this weekend. Anything, actually.

4. Red wine

I have EXTREMELY mellowed down on my wine intake. This started when I seriously wanted to lose weight. I just had to do it. Cabernet. Merlot. Sigh.

5. R.

We’ve been seeing each other more frequently. But it doesn’t really change a lot of things. I still miss him. A lot. And it doesn’t really change the fact that I still want to see more of him.

Boracay bliss

The long weekend was a very well-deserved breather. Boracay was a welcomed respite, what with all the stress at work and in the personal sphere. I actually prefer Fridays Boracay over Discovery Shores. Discovery was too hotel-ish for both me and the boyfriend. We always stay in hotels anyway --- so it's nothing new. In Bora, the cozy yet "beachy" feel of Fridays is still better.

A few snapshots

Our welcome drinks

Our matrimonial "suite"

Fridays dinner that he gave up to eat tabi-tabi hotdogs!

Fridays beachfront view

View from station 1

Cocktails happy hour!

Pizzaaah!

Jonah's shakes - sorry, but I think it's overrated.

Getting my henna tats.

Our daily yummy Filipino breakfast

I'm not surprised that he wants to come back next month!

Paradise. Sigh.