Starbucks

It's been a year since I wrote directly on this blogsite.  It has been copy-pasting madness since I came up with "Coffee, anyone?" which I intended for paid posts and ads. But in order to neutralize that blog's general tone, I ended up pouring more personal touches there allowing it to evolve into my main site, and with this site being thrown into the back burner, receiving posts -- copy-pasted posts! Poor thang.

It's a blessing in disguise that I am itching to blog and Coffee, anyone? is blocked by the firewall and I am not going to bang my head against it until I can go through (or break my skull, whichever comes first)...or climb over, whichever applies (though none of it really applies *bleh*).

Rustier than ever. I can't even get my words out now. Is it the colossal back pain that has been bothering me since last week? That's what I get for being rusty! I went back to hula class last wednesday after a two-month hiatus and so I managed to come home with the entire backache squad in tow. RUSTY! It's the worst I've had for a long time, radiating to my thighs with horrible pulling sensations they sure felt like rubberbands awaiting that one perfect snap. The good news is, as of this hour, it's been 1.5 days of life for me without Tylenoling.  A wonderful milestone indeed!

Right. I sold my soul to Tylenol for about 5 days. It's not a joke to be walking around, socializing, living your life 24/7 in pain. Even at night, I'd wake up, or rather, my back and legs would wake me up for the next dosing, which would buy me the other half of the night's sleep. I'm getting better now, thank you very much. And out of the dark before I got hooked deeper into it. LOL. And thanks to my hubby who would hold my form in outlandish Pilates moves like he's the meanest Pilates guru of all time (albeit untrained).

Updates...updates.

- I am deeply saddened by the deadly visit of Typhoon "Ondoy" to my kababayans. I wish I can do more from where I am, help out directly through volunteer work and just be there for support. But in my own little way , I am happy that I am able to contribute a little with continuous prayers (and some lunch money...so go figure why I am eating garlic peanuts and juice today *jk*) and help a little by relaying information through Facebook -- a networking site I didn't even want at first! On a lighter note, I dreamed of a big flood and riding a raft ten days before Typhoon Ondoy happened. Which leaves me feeling special and gifted *blush* although I know that it's highly likely just a coincidence, and as random as dreaming about my bathroom tiles getting horribly dirty (if I don't clean them!), of course! *Yes, feel free to click on the links or the photo below if you're feeling kind of snoopy*



- So it's a given fact that I'm not a painkiller addict (yet). But this I gotta tell you...I'm hooked on blogs. Well, not as much as the other people I know! But I have a new baby called BISTRO DE L'ARTE: Wine Flights and Caffeinated Dreams but instead of incoherent verbal diarrhea I usually succumb my readers to, I am coercing the people this time to view my other therapy of choice. Wine and coffee, literally.  But on paper. I was inspired to put up this online portfolio when a kind soul from Facebook encouraged me to join his online talent pool called http://www.phatskills.com -- it's not "fat"skills, crazy! (Thank you, Rocky Nator for all the support!) and so, I needed a portfolio!  Anyhoo, it's a continuous work-in-progress and so am I! Please come and visit once in a while.



And in true Wonder Wifey fashion as always, I'm taking more than I can chew, and chewing more than I can swallow, and swallowing more than I can digest, and digesting more than I can...let's stop there.

My book-writing pursuits were swept on the side following a bereavement in my husband's family (my MIL's passing) and an out-of-this world social calendar that came with it. Okay, that social calendar comes from nothing. It just exists, period. It's a virus that doesn't go away. It doesn't even go away even if I run away from it! Even if I stab it with the H1N1 vaccine repeatedly. Even if I show my morning look to it -- puffy eyes, staticky hair and drool. It will only go away if I turn into a hemit, dragging my husband into the cave with me.

Sorry about that. I just had to do it. I'm sick and tired and clawing for hope.

Tonight, I'm looking forward to some time alone doing usual errands -- bank, drycleaners, grocery, and maybe some shopping on the side, though I doubt it if I can hang considering the residual pain that randomly shoots up like lightning on my lower back and legs.   Hubby's going to be home late so hopefully I'll have some time to paint an artwork for our new hula studio, a present I intend to give to our kumu for the "studio-warming" on Monday.

And this weekend! It's my MIL's 40th Day Prayer Service where a late lunch/early dinner reception will follow. We have family coming. This social calendar...maybe we're stuck to it because there's tons of important people in our lives. Won't we feel sad and desolate with an empty schedule that I sometimes find myself yearning for? Then that means shutting our doors to people, eliminating those who don't mean much to us (but should there be a thin line between those who mean much and those who don't?), building walls, burning bridges...

That doesn't sound right. And that doesn't seem happy at all. What trade-offs! 

I'm just learning to savor the little windows of opportunity to catch my breath and enjoy my little shots of solitude. Maybe tonight, I'll linger a little longer at Starbucks (even if I'm officially 168 hours caffeine-free as of today -- *sigh* some sufferings I subject myself to!) But I'm going to end this post before I start to bombard you with how I coped with my 3-day headache-the-size-of-kingkong-and-lethargic-being-my-favorite-word-I-seriously-wanted-to-shoot-everyone-who-came-near-me-even-my-friend--at-work-who-stepped-in-my-cube-offering-chocolate kind of withdrawal symptoms from caffeine! Ooops I just did.

Alive

Uh-oh, schiz alert. I was kind of feeling sad and downtrodden a while ago (throw in a dash of jitter from that extra cup of joe I shouldn't have patronized), but now I'm all of a sudden feeling high and happy (and no, I didn't have ANY, thank you very much...blogging is still my substance of choice). I actually whistled my way to the kitchen as soon as I got home from work. I pulled out the slab of pork that I had thawing in the refrigerator, which I had zealously moved off the freezer before I took off for work this morning.  Suffice it to say, I've gotten my groove back.  I hope this seals the end of store-bought food which I've mercilessly subjected my household (a.k.a. hubby) to for the past three weeks. This time, he came home to a hot pot of homemade Pork Caldereta (spicy stew), made extra spicy because hubby always goes after the kick, with potatoes made extra soft because that's how he likes them too, and with an eternal spring of scrumptious sauce because he pours that over his steamy rice and sips it like soup sometimes.  Thank goodness we prefer the same stuff.

Life is good. I'm back to the daily grind -- the kind of grind that makes everyone smile.

Oh by the way, here are snippets from my friend's concert last weekend (too bad we couldn't take videos):



And yes, I'm blogging again because I blogged half-heartedly earlier in the day. And THAT AIN'T RIGHT. It's the perfect time to immerse myself back into the normal rhythm of things (the steady click-clack of keys on the  keyboard included) -- as hubby makes some loud and low neanderthal sounds or caveman-ish charades (on instances when he remembers to keep the noise down) while watching Monday Night Football next to me.

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

Howard Thurman

Still Wordless...kind of.

It's been a rough ride lately, losing two special family members almost simultaneously.

I'll be back blogging "normally" soon. I'm on the road to recovery now. Friday night, hubby and I had dinner at King of Thai. Saturday night, I watched the Oakland East Bay Gay Men's Chorus and the music was awesome, awesome, awesome. Then we went BACK to King of Thai (Holy Crab Fried Rice!) I had my friend Flo spend the night, then we went to Webster Street Jam Sunday. We went there thinking it was the Peanut Butter and Jelly Festival until it dawned on us 60 million minutes into the fair and after scouring a row of booths on one side of the whole Webster stretch and finding not a single peanut butter thingy, that it was no longer...

*duh*

So there. I blogged!

Here are two things to take note of:

 

Yes, I was angry. Not because of important people passing away, but for what some people who were left behind have said. Well, bless their hearts for they don't know any better.

Here's the other one, a better take on letting go...

FOR THE SPECIAL PEOPLE MOMMY REMY (my mother-in-law) and TITA ROSIE (my mom's sister) left behind:

I AM NOT GONE
by Ms. Deejay

I am not gone, do not think of me as underground, unless you see me everywhere.
I have joined each seed that dies to be a flower.
So when you plant your garden in the earth
You might think of me.
In the grave?
I am not there, that is not me!
The seed has burst and I am free.

I am not gone, I am flying into the sun
So when you watch the morning in it’s glory,
The twilight in its quiet beauty
See my wings flash across the sky
And know that I am free.
In the grave?
I am not there, that is not me!
I am touching your face with the sun.

I am not gone, I am drifting to the sea.
So when you walk beside the ocean
By the deep and restless sea, hear the crying of the gulls and think of me.
In the grave?
I am not there, that is not me.
I am playing on the farther shore of the boundless sea.

I am not gone, I am sailing into the wind.
So I shall sigh through your window in summer
And blow leaves around you in autumn.
When the wind kisses your hair with laughter,
you might remember me.
In the grave?
I am not there, that is not me.
I have unfurled my soul to the wind and I am free.

I am not gone
I am tiptoeing into the dark to visit the Moon,
Whispering soft goodbyes, I shall soon fade from sight,
but when the moon lights a path across dark water,
you might think of me.
In the grave?
I am not there, that is not me.
I am sailing with the moon on the breath of forever.

I am not gone, I am dancing in the storm
Laughing with thunder, a lightning leaper.
Now when storms roll in with rumbling and fireworks,
Do not be afraid, just think of me.
In the grave, I am not there, that is not me.
I have danced away in thunder and I am free.

I am not gone,
I am part of forever.
In every season, every birdsong.
In flowers, clouds and each rainbow.
I am part of them, they are part of me.
Do not grieve, only remember.
In the grave?
I am not there, that is not me.
The shell is open, the spirit is free.