Something is wrong here (but a lot of things are right too!)

So I'm at work dutifully doing my job (and thank God not lurking around Facebook that time), when our President comes over at my desk, violating my cube rule which is "DO NOT ENTER WITHOUT MY APPROVAL" -- but of course, sadly, I'm the only one who knows about that supposed rule, and muttering in a soft voice, "Uhm, Clarisse, they said you wanted to see me?"

That didn't sound right.  What would have sounded right was if the situation had been reversed and I came over to his big room which is 10 times my cubicle to ask him the same question. But anyway, that's how mighty powerful I am at work! Woohoo!  *flexing biceps* LOL.  

I just work around very nice people, including the supposed corporate pee-ers (management) and the rest of us corporate pee-ons.

So I proceeded to tell him what I needed and he winced and gave me this look as if I was giving him a toughie.  *flexing biceps again*  Yeah!!!

---

A few hours later someone asked me how long something was supposed to take, and the answer was supposedly "an hour and a half" but I absentmindedly said "a YEAR and a half" instead. No wonder I left the area with some naive people their jaws way down on the floor like floor length theater drapes. *DUH* If I didn't correct that, some people (including myself) would have needed to stick around at work 24/7 for a total of 547 days. I will be the first to go ballistic over that.

---

So yeah some things are amiss today. Or I guess, some things are NOT amiss today (abnormal being normal in my circle of functioning).

Hehehe.

I'm bouncing off the walls though. I just got very encouraging comments from the radiologist who did my mammogram reimaging -- which was nerve-wracking by the way. Tell me, if you got called back for another mammogram because apparently "there is a finding that needs further investigation", wouldn't you be scared out of your wits, especially if you had very strong genetic risks? (not to mention a strong propensity for hypochondriac tendencies?)

The second imaging really helped.  They zeroed in on the doubtful spot and proved that it indeed was merely scarred tissue (from a previous lumpectomy) and nothing to be worried about at all. I'll wait for the official results in the mail.





So yippy, I'm NOT dying or anything. It makes me ignore the fact that my hair is still falling at a hideously alarming rate for unkown reasons and despite delightfully NORMAL blood test results (so yes I still have that to wrestle with) -- deyyymmmm american shampoos y'all. But now, I'm all of a sudden lazy about pursuing my bucket list goals in life. Slowing down like I have so much time in my hands all over again and because my arse has just been spared from the ever-proverbial expiry date sticker. Exhausted? Tired? Or simply human?

Gosh, human...

Falling hair and ɛt ˈsɛtərə

--written not so long ago at wonderwifey.com --

I'm trying to blog, but I'm still not coming up with anything to write about. Blogger's Block, you say? Loss of inspiration?

There's a lot of issues and stressors that have been swimming in my head (cerebrospinal fluid, eh?) lately. First of all, my hair has been abandoning my head as if on a sudden exodus to the shower floor (25 strands at one time), the towel (another 15 at one time), the table, my shoulders, my tank top, the couch, my kitchen tiles, the carpet, the pillow, everywhere and anywhere but my head, including your plate of lasagna if you're having dinner at my house (I'm sorry). My used-to-be-thick crowning glory seems to be doing a very successful crash diet and it worries me. What the hell is causing my hair follicles to jump ship, in a terribly unglorified harakiri? (Forgive me, but I'm seeing a cartoon rendition of animated hair strands jumping off a cliff, screaming "hi-yah!!!!" in my head). Mass suicide, actually.

Is it stress?

Is it stress over my crazy schedule? I've taken a one month leave from dance class effective yesterday, and I don't know what else I'll find myself unloading in the next few weeks.

Is it stress over Michael Jackson's kids? No, wait a minute...

Is it stress over Uncle Sam shoving that horrendous amount of taxes down my throat?

Or is it my thyroid acting up? Hormones going haywire, feeling tired all the time, yada-dada yada-dada...

Or is it stress over the mammogram results? For those of you who don't know, my mom is a breast cancer survivor for 20 or so years. It recurs, yes, but she's been fighting it with flying colors with the kind of courage I can't see myself capable of (maybe) and with the help of the advances in medical science: affairs with chemotherapy, radiation and oral meds. I've seen the whole drama of it all...us family members and herself playing tug-of-war with cancer and continuously struggling to win the battle, relentlessly trying to pull her back to our side, and not allowing her to fall into the arms of those emotionally insensitive malignant neoplasms. If you think third party lovers and mistresses are the ultimate home-wreckers, well, you haven't met cancer. You can't get back at cancer once it steals someone away from you. You can't shoot cancer with a 45. You can't throw nitric acid on cancer to burn its face like people do in the movies and in your tabloid news, you can't take cancer to court, no,you can't sue cancer (wow, I've never uttered/written that word "cancer" this much because it used to hurt so much). Anyway, you can't just plot a stupid well-orchestrated act of vengeance on cancer. You simply can't.

I digress.

On the mammogram results...

A few months back during one of those self-checks I would normally do as someone with a very high genetic risk, I thought I had felt a tiny lump. A very little one, the size of a pearl (not the South Sea kind, thankfully), yet giving me so much fear the size of the Milky Way and beyond. Why? Because with this kind of news come scary possibilities and I don't want to go that road! I just refuse to go through the same ordeal because I've seen it played over and over in my family, and I might not hold up as good as my mom has (or dad-- yeah, prostate cancer for him) to pull myself from "victim" to "survivor" status. I don't even want to go through the process. I've seen it, more like "felt" it and it's painful and ugly. Plus, I'm done. I'm T-I-R-E-D. It's like being in a very emotionally-charged sports game: you yell, you cheer, you root for your teammate with all your might, and then suddenly, you find yourself too tired when it's your turn to play. Like that. I was reflecting on it one time as I looked out into the yard watching my husband lovingly water my favorite plants while wearing MY garden crocs and it is tearing me apart already. No, I can't do this to my man. Please, God, no replays. Please spare me so I can spare him!

And so I went for a mammogram. They also did a breast ultrasound, and then another ultrasound for further investigation. Nothing. They couldn't find anything. I told the radiologist that I would feel the lump when I'm watching TV or when I'm in the toilet, and so she asked me to mimic my position during those instances while aiming the sonogram poker on the spot. Nothing. So rather comically, I flipped, *poke*, turned around, *poke*, bent over, *poke*, stretched, *poked*, slouched...tilted...hang up-side-down. Nothing. She was, I guess, at the point where she was tempted to bring in a TV as a prop to the ultrasound room and in front of me to simulate the situation, or better yet, follow me with the sonogram machine to the toilet on my next visit there. But so far, NOTHING.

Until last week, when I received a letter from my healthcare provider saying that I need to come back for a reimaging because there was "a finding" that needed to be looked at one more time. The notice said that it's common to be called back for reimaging and usually the findings are benign with most people anyway.

Who knows? I'm probably getting too worked up for NOTHING!!! But you know where I'm coming from now. Meanwhile, I await my second mammogram schedule as of this writing. And I'm going through a battery of blood tests this weekend to find out what's the underlying cause of my falling hair -- and I hope it's not just the dadgum shampoo after all the stress! Or rather, I hope it is...

So if you're reading this, please pray for me. Because lately, all I want to do is hide in my cave (when I'm not in the pursuit of items in my bucket list --because one can really never know, y'know!) and plug in some music in my ears so I don't hear my own thoughts.

For lunch today, for a change, I drove out of my work place all the way to Safeway and got me a pack of sushi-to-go (California Roll, baby!) -- and yeah, despite all the turmoil that's going on in my life, my appetite hasn't left me (aaarrrrggghhhh!!!). I'm not surprised. When I drove back, I had a good view of the bay. I could see the skyline across the water and the crystal view of San Francisco as Colbie Caillat croons a relaxing number in my iPhone, again and again and again.

It's such a clear day today. I hope the fog will lift off my medical situation soon too.

Altogether now: "Today is Wednesday. It's a sunny day!"

-- written for Coffee, anyone? --

Hi there! You miss me? *LOL*

It's been a while since I've written posts that are in the league of people's favorite posts in my site.  Some of you will know this (well, if you've been exploring my OTHER sites...), I've had some strange health concerns recently, but no worries! I'm still as crazy and adventurous as ever. And my life is as hilarious too! I just thought I'd write some updates before people forget that this site even exists, hahaha.

Here goes:

First of, it seems that my blog's Google PageRank "PR" score or whatchamacallit has sympathized with my biorhythmic patterns lately.  It has dropped from a super-duper-calooper "4" to *ding* ZERO! As in zilch. A whopping duck's egg...That's what I get for not blogging enough. Or yeah yeah, too much link-hardselling.  I needed the moolah, what can I do?

Anyhoo...

I'm okay. Am I doing something about it? NO. Why? I don't know...  Bleh.  That means less writing jobs too. And I'm not sure why I'm feeling a little joyful. Coming home without writing tasks to accomplish is truly a delightful prospect. But well, we need the extra dough so I'll fix it soon.  I'd better...

My internet presence hasn't been as much as it used to be, especially on this site since our IT guy at work updated our firewall. The odd thing is, I can get into Bravenet and write (like what I'm doing right now), but I cannot see the final output because my blogsite is banned. And so are the rest of your blogsites... I've lost my groove to some extent since then. Blogging but not being able to read it immediately? Coitus interruptus no less (pardon my allegory). It just isn't as orgasmic , er, consummating, uhm...satisfying as before.  I just like to see my blog entry in final form right away and make the necessary changes if need be.

Suffice it to say, I've been doing more non-virtual tasks now and it's mentally uplifting. I've also taken a month-long leave from hula dancing and it's amazing how one extra evening spent at home makes an ocean of difference. However, it's also amusing how a sudden change in routine can make one severely disoriented  -- especially in the knowing-what-day-it-is department. Today, for some strange reason, I truthfully didn't know what day it was!!! Yes, I love fridays and weekends, but that doesn't mean I should forget what goes on between them.  And so I had to consult my calendar and then...I didn't know what date it was! Har-har-har! It's Wednesday today. Wednesday. Wednesday. To...day...is...Wed...nes...day. It's a sunny day. Wednesday. Wednesday.

We're busy! Hecka! (as if we've never been ever...!?)  Hubby volunteered his services to "cater" yes, CATER, for their company's annual family picnic. He and his buddy were disappointed last year with the catering services and the quality of food served that they felt they needed to intervene. So, Batman and Robin to the barbe-rescue! I'm supporting him all the way since I know that this is one of the things he's been dreaming of. I'm scared and shakin' and hopin' that everything will turn out well,  prayin' that the food will be cooked on time and will be enough for everybody, no salmonella poisoning whatsoever, no hair swimming around (perhaps I should keep my distance hahaha), and none of 'em undercooked, rubbery and iffy morsels.

We're going to Costco with hubby's friend tonight to buy the supplies for our impromptu catering business. We're used to preparing for a banquet because we entertain a lot at home (sometimes too much) but for a party of 150? God help us...   Hubby said he's doing it for "reputation" -- as he knows it in his heart that this is only the beginning of his NEW career *LOL*, and the "money" comes second -- as he knows it in his heart that all of it is going to me. *LMAO*

And yes, I'm self-studying some Italian. I want to speak Italian! And after so much vascillation and debating whether I should keep trying to learn French or give up on it totally (my tongue has given up a long time ago) and pursue Italian instead (I wrote about this not so long ago), I have decided on the latter for so many valid reasons.

So...uhrm......uhrm.....Vive bene, spesso l'amore, di risata molto!(Live well, love much, laugh often). Beautiful isn't it? Que bella!

Anyway...

My friend just shot me an email today asking me, "what will make you happy this instant?"

It took me a while before I could answer (with some bedraggled symphony of dreams and aspirations e.g. have a baby, lose weight, stay healthy -- no scary mammogram results, take care of my parents, win the lotto to be a stay-at-home wife, yada-dada...yada-dada...)

On second thought, it took me a while because I couldn't come up with an adequate answer. I just couldn't!  It's like, well, I'm very content at this point and I couldn't ask for more. I'm happy with the way things are. I still feel blessed despite some obstacles and challenges that are beyond my control. My life isn't perfect but whose isn't?

I'm just grateful for each day that comes (even if I don't know what day it is, hahaha).

Does that mean I'm already happy?

You know what? YES.

  

OC

- a paid post at Coffee, anyone? -- advertising links deleted

Call me an obssessive-compulsive hygiene freak (note: it doesn't equate to neat and organized at all times *LOL*) but I like to be clean.  I'm not exactly a strict and dysfunctional germophobe but I always make sure that I clean myself all the time, brush my teeth, change my clothes...wait a minute, that's normal, that's standard for most of us.  The thing is, I have this issue about getting my feet dirty. I mean, I'm okay at the getting dirty part, just not go to bed with dirty feet.  I think I can go to bed without brushing my teeth (yeah, that's gross) but I'd tolerate that more than going to bed with dirty feet. Hahaha. 

To me, it's really okay to get dirty...I love dirty jobs, I don't mind soiling my hands.  As long as I go to bed fresh and clean even if I have to sleep only like 2 hours and wake up again.  I also hate going to bed in my day clothes or street clothes even if that was only to dive for a short rest. The rest of the house can get dirty for days and days, but just respect the bed!!!

And that's where hubby and I argue most of the time.  Men...He's not exactly a dirty filthy thing, but sometimes he'd hop on the bed wearing jeans that he'd worn during the day, and then I start imagining germs transferring to the bed after having travelled with him on his pants, especially the bottom part.  Eeeeks!

But eureka, I've recently found the psychological tactic that seems to be working so far...

Step 1: I told him after coming from this and that's house (and the hospital) that I was so positive they had mites on their couch. And that if he sat there, the mites probably started clinging on to his pants and then by sitting or laying down on our NEW bed, they will probably appreciate the move to the fresher home, thank him for the lift and probably start propagating on the mattress. 

Step 2: I had no chance for step 2.  He jumped out of the bed and stripped off his day clothes and took a shower, and never hopped on the bed with dirty clothes again.

Not an entirely different approach from educating 5 yr-olds!

36 Hours

Seriously.

I wish the day had 36 hours. I will try my best not to complain of being tired, just give me 36 hours! There's so much I need to accomplish, and so little time each day. I liken it to attempting to shove humongous stuff that could fill up a whole hiking backpack into a teeny weeny wristlet purse.

But God (or the force --  if you're one of those believers of some other magical or scientific reason) -- though it's still my God for me, my loving God, designed the day to have 24 hours, as dictated by the rising and setting of the beautiful sun, so there must be a supreme reason for being so. I think I'm just trying to achieve so many things all at one time that I feel that there's so little time. Maybe I need to sit back, relax and weigh my priorities.

So many interests have taken a back seat since I got swallowed up by chores and yet more hobbies. My hula dancing, which is on for only 2 hours a week now -- and performing once in a while (we'll be dancing with the big parade in A-town this coming 4th of July if you happen to be here in NorCal!!!), and then my art: wire-wrapping projects and sketches,  Italian lessons, photography with my husband, and a hodge-podge of other things, my blogging (and writing) which is slowly moving unto the back seat for some other writing projects *hint* *hint*... I hope you guys buy my book when it comes out. My book project is eating up all of me lately, consuming my energy and attention that I am worse than absent-minded most of the time. It's set to release by my birthday this year (Christmastime) so please pray for me. And pray that I meet the deadlines and encounter no difficult publishing hurdles especially since I too have taken the liberty of dropping the illustration requirements on my own lap. All these in between wifey duties (50% chef, 50% bedroom goddess *LOL*) and a serious full time job! I'm not complaining. I hope I can find the time to really sit down and accomplish things. I keep working and re-working my schedule to the point of catatonia.

*sigh*

I might have to let go of other things temporarily until the book project is done. But which one?!?

I've had some health scares recently too.  You know, these health and life-threats...they purify you. They make you transcend over the pettiest of matters -- considering them completely irrelevant. These things make you grow.  You see, when you come face to face with your mortality, no matter how false alarm it might be, nothing seems to matter anymore. Well, unless you get there, you'll never know how possible that state of mind can be.  That not a single material thing, not a single emotional entanglement nor relationship issue, no negative quirks nor trivial encounters with acquaintances or strangers will move you...none of these affect you anymore.  You simply transcend to a higher level of wisdom where you find unalterable peace in your heart that makes you dismiss everything human and trivial-- and certainly not with a fist to punch back -- but with a nod of your head, and then you proceed to concentrate on living your life to the fullest and making good use of your time on earth, and hoping that everything benefits more people, and yet more people even if nothing comes back to you -- whether there's not enough time left for you, or you still have million miles before you kick the bucket.

I am on this level where I am in pursuit of my biggest dream, something that has fallen into place recently in a grand eureka moment in the car with my husband. 

And at this age, 36, I can finally say that I have truly discovered what I want to be when I grow up.

I might not turn out to be the best. But who cares, as long as I know that I've given my best.

Christmastime, this year...my book(s) are coming out.

Please help me pray for it. And pray that this dream comes into fruition come hell or high water.

Dandelion Fields

I now have an online gallery for my works, click on the photo to visit it:



I started drawing with my father as soon as I was old enough to hold a pencil (what is old enough for me? 12 months? *teehee*). In preschool, I felt a little awkward and embarassed because I was already sketching things in 3D, while my classmates were struggling to draw stick people. I can still vividly remember my rendition of the flame and the partially melted ice cube with a wet pool around it (thanks to Daddy -- whose idea of playtime and bonding time is the Drawing Guessing Game, way before Pictionary came out). I still do the drawing guessing game with little kids. I think we need to tap into their creative, inferential and expressive skills early on. It matters a lot to shaping one's character for later in life.

Sadly, all my sketchbooks and sketchpads of two decades (including those that were on exhibit for a time when I was in the university) were never returned to me -- even threatened to be burnt and are perhaps really ashes by now -- after a previous relationship has gone awry. I still don't know what came of them.

So I have nothing much to show now, only lessons learned. And a testimony of the truth that...LIFE GOES ON. Art prevails! And this site is a form of my commitment to find time to create works of art again inspite of my busy schedule.

Though I'm not the best in the world, I'm proud of my works because this hobby (and skill) is one of the most special things that connect me to my DADDY who still sketches wonderful drawings up to this day. Though he and I are geographically apart now, like a secret magic thread, this language ties our hearts together. Tightly.

Meet Milo

-TAKEN FROM MY "WONDER WIFEY" SITE, SANS THE ADVERTISING-

I was spring-cleaning our laptops, deleting unnecessary files and creating back-ups for photos and important documents (I'm very "anal" when it comes to organizing the archives in an external hard drive), when I came across this photo that I took of the darling of our family a long, long time ago.

One million trial shots on the couch amidst stuffed animals, inside a giant antique vase, the piano plus a severely disoriented puppy with almost one broken leg for hopping off the couch in disgust and "antsy-ness" two hours later, I came up with one that I liked and I gave it to my sister to enter the Photography Contest featuring pets called "Furry Tales".

Lo and behold, it won Second Place amongst hundreds of entries! My sister and I agreed to pass it off as her shot since she's the one who bought Milo anyway (for a bargain price, really -- he's the real clearance puppy) and brought a totally different kind of love into our family. I'm cool with that. It didn't matter who got the credits, what mattered was that the photo won and we brought home a lot of prizes.

Milo received gift packages, gift certificates, dog food, toys, and other treats. The best part was the gift certificates to "people" restaurants that he also received which he'll never use, of course, since he's a dog and which are meant for the family. So we all had several outings as a family, eating to our heart's delight for free, courtesy of our pet. How cool is that!?! How often in life do you get that?

One great thing too that came out of Milo being on the spotlight and the little darling of the crowd when "he" claimed the prizes during the awarding ceremony, was Daddy -- an official and certified cynophobic-- falling in love with him realizing his cuteness, appreciating all his funny antics and overcoming his fear and avoidance of canines altogether. Milo, after all, really possesses heart-warming characteristics that endears him to everyone.

Milo's a little old now. When I came home to visit last year, he seemed to have forgotten who I was -- his adoptive mom, the one who walked and ran with him, played fetch, and the one he guarded during those late nights I stayed up to finish some work at the computer. I think he's mad at me for leaving. Or because he is just different, a mixed breed of sorts: terrier, lhasa apso and a hodge-podge of untraced canine ancestors. Through the years he had turned territorial, selective, possessive of his masters, and sometimes just plain eccentric.

It's okay. My affectionate relationship with him might be over but I'll never forget the lessons that he taught me about unconditional love and loyalty. To cut to the chase, Milo became my dad's bestfriend through the years. I remember that day I was about to leave home, I cried and wept and told Milo to watch over my parents while I'm gone to a far away place. Eversince I left, he never left daddy's side. And for that I am so grateful. He's still there, keeping him company. And Daddy also spoils him to bits. My mom loves him too but he's more loyal to Daddy if you know what I mean. It's a great relationship. I hope Milo lives long to fulfill his promise to me even longer.

It's as if this "SPECIAL" pooch heard my request that day. Even if, the truth is, Milo had been diagnosed clinically deaf since birth. HE LISTENED WITH HIS HEART.

We, humans, are supposed to teach dogs. But can you imagine how much this dog has taught me instead?

Milo and I in 2006

Why I blog...

I blog as much as I can for three main reasons: PURPOSE, EXPRESSION and INCOME. So I guess if you put the three together, that really amounts to churning out 60 million words in multiple sites. My favorite author Robert Fulghum once said, "We are all dying". That struck me so much because it's true. It's only a matter of who bites the dust first. It made me re-think my multiple purposes in life. What is it that I like to do? And what is it that I want to give to the world? Blogging is one of them. (And I'm blessed that I can squeeze this in my coffee and lunch breaks, or at home while hubby and I watch TV). Though it sounds so urban tchotchke-ish, I find deeper meaning in blogging. First, to help anyone who can hopefully vicariously learn from my journey...the little steps, the big milestones, humps, potholes and all. To entertain in my own humble way. To express myself (there's always a burning feeling inside my heart -- a concept, a thought or a butterfly that yearns to get out of the cocoon to conquer the world!)...A legacy of my own. To guide those who'd want to follow suit. And the income is just icing on the cake. Lately, I've been wanting to share the bounty. I'd like everyone who's interested to taste that icing too! And the joyful part is, at the end of a blogging day, I find it amazing that I really don't care if nothing comes back to me.

I never even remembered today that I hate Mondays

- taken from Coffee, anyone? - but sans the advertising...

So maybe, we're really good friends now.

I'm far from lethargic, there are no weekend withdrawal symptoms, I'm cheerful and humming and whistling...instead of wishing that I'm at home, on my comfortable bed, watching TV...wait a minute...now that I'm remembering, I'm starting to hate Monday again. 

It's all in my crazy mind, isn't it?

But the good part is, four more days and it's going to be weekend again.  The loop never stops.  It's already June! Almost midyear, yup, almost there.  In the wink of an eye, it's going to be Christmas again.  Didn't we just cook the turkey for Thanksgiving last week?

That's what my friend Mo has in mind.  She's back from being off for 5 days last week and she emerged from it like a new-born infant.  I knew she's back the moment she went into my cube to show one of her most recent online purchases.  She gets shoes, clothes and jewelry most of the time.  This time, she showed me this very beautiful heart-shaped locket studded with a tiny diamonds (2-ct TW). She got it on sale for $ 100. from Macy's for her daughter, who I thought was celebrating her birthday. Nope! It's a Christmas present.  This soon?

Six months to go, baby.  Where did half of the year go?!?

Meanwhile, let me focus on loving this Monday.  After all, shouldn't we focus on each moment and each day that passes?

 

Here's something my uncle shared with me before his passing:

Yesterday's gone, we cannot relive it.

Tomorrow's something we can't be absolutely certain of.

But we have today to fulfill our mission in life. And if we concentrate on living every moment well, TODAY is ENOUGH.

-Anonymous

Coming Full Circle

-originally posted at Coffee, anyone? - but edited to conform with the conditions in this blogsite: non-commercialized and straight from the heart..

With the coming of summer, I feel that snippets of our family life are coming full circle so fast. It does every year. I felt it again this morning as I unearthed my summer stuff from storage bins. Wasn't it just yesterday when I packed them away? And when I wrote OVERDRIVE and OUT OF WHACK and other posts that completely detailed the tween and teen adventures in our makeshift tween/teen daycare whenever my stepdaughter spends schoolbreaks with us and the cousins get together in our place for like a whole week of chaos, day trips, summer adventure, field trips, food trips and F-U-N?

I can almost smell my oven-baked cookies that they like to eat with milk or scoops of vanilla ice cream. And the military style breakfast of bacon, eggs and freshly baked biscuits I shoot out from my kitchen for 8 kids who are kids no more and who could already eat like hungry pitbulls on steroids.

I'm going to start getting sleeping bags ready, new scary movies up our sleeves, the heavy blankets they spread on the floor, pillow cases, different colored toothbrushes, facial wash, extra bottles of shampoo and those little soaps I try to hoard from our hotel stays as much as I can. It's like a teen daycare alright. Backpacks strewn around, those jackets sprouting from nowhere, the multi-colored candy-like Nike Dunks, belts, socks, cellphones, curling irons, hair straighteners, iPhones, earphones, chargers, candy-colored nail polish, Nintendo DS, PSPs...

With things coming full circle too fast every year, it won't be too long until all those teen artifacts start disappearing. 

I think I'll treasure every moment of it.

Courage in Pink Boxer Shorts

Great potential for a book title, eh?

Boy, he cracked me up!

Good thing he didn't show the crack!

Nope, this isn't one of those clips from World's Funniest Commercials, nor a feature from Punk'd. This is an actual war document. And if you're curious, you may read up on the complete story of this army soldier in eastern Afghanistan who drew media attention this month after rushing to defend his post from attack while wearing pink boxer shorts and flip-flops by clicking on the photo above or here.

An incredible innovation in pyschological warfare, indeed.

He is Army Specialist Zachary Boyd from Fort Worth, Texas, eager to defend his post from attack, rushed from his sleeping quarters on May 11 to join fellow platoon members at a base in Afghanistan's Kunar Province after the unit came under fire from Taliban positions. I still think that was the purest show of dedication to one's mission.

He cracked me up, but WHY AM I NOW IN TEARS???

Zachary is only 19 years old, like a lot of our soldiers who are still half-boys and half-men. Half-kid, half grown-up, with so much future ahead, and who hasn't even lived 50% of the average life in this world. Zachary, like the others, is still for the most part a son, and most likely not even a father himself -- yet.

Please, dear God, DON'T LET HIM BE ANOTHER STATISTIC down the road...

Eat, Pray Love

I'm a late bloomer. I haven't read the Twilight series. (But I'm purposely delaying it for personal and spiritual reasons)

---

And I haven't read Eat, Pray and Love.

I had the book for over a year now. I had it with me in the long plane ride going to PI last year. But my body decided to utilize the flight hours to fly to dreamland. The book made friends with every nook and cranny of our house before I finally got interested to pick it up again last night.

It's back in the magazine rack in my toilet (proud frontliner!). And I'm enjoying every sentence --and thought bubble?-- that Elizabeth Gilbert poured in there, whilst in the midst of intense...meditation.

I'll tell you the details (of the book, dear) when I'm done. Maybe next year.

I read an average of one page a day, that's why. I always read more than 5 books at one time but don't be awed!!! Each book has an own assigned reading station so it takes a long time for me to finish them all. I have a waitng/waiting-room book, a falling-in-line book, a restroom book, bath tub book, watching TV book, going to sleep-bedside book.

Sometimes I mix them all up in my head too.

And that's the fun part.

More Catching Up!!!

Told ya hubby was coming home already! And so I didn't have the chance to put up all the posts I wanted to copy from my Coffee, Anyone site. I heard the garage door go up and just saved my work.

He didn't bring pizza this time so I proceeded to making some dinner as I didn't want to make hubby wait.  Why? I don't like him making me wait either. As simple as that. And so I made quick refrigerator concoctions with soft corn tortillas. A set of turkey slices, salad greens, cheese and wasabi mayonnaise in rolled corn tortillas. Then another set of hot and spicy chicken tenders (cooked from frozen), salad greens and ranch dressing.  Voila! That's our dinner. We ate them in front of the television because this is our movie night! I still have half a roll to deal with and hubby's not taking no for an answer.

And so I'm blogging while he finishes this gory movie I can't even look at (so much more eat my dinner at the same time!). I'll wait for the next movie.

So, while I'm at it, here are a few more posts...

TGIF  5-08-09

And so I got a lot of compliments at work today...for being cute wearing a purple and black checkered summer dress and a cardigan. I was not trying to be cute. In fact that was the last thing on my mind. I was just trying to be CLEAN.  Why, you ask? Because most of my jeans and slacks (at least those that still fit anyway) are on the dirty laundry hamper awaiting the weekend for the glorious Downy-infused bubbly spin in my washing machine. Unwearable for now, unless I suddenly decide to give the skunk a run for its money. I'm close to turning the closets inside out because of the busy couple of weeks I've just wriggled from. I came out of it sane and smiling so I can't complain.  I didn't hear a single complaint from THE HUSBAND either...even if I would find him wearing his nice party shirts to bed, for lack of available PJs in his drawers.

I am invoking the spirit of a warm, peaceful and activity-free weekend. I'm doing the incantations right now, can you hear it? Just kidding.

I'm eating lunch right now. It's the left-over spaghetti I made for hubby last night.

As you can see, this is random. I'm just writing as unpredictably as my thoughts go.

Oh, hair! I sort of promised my head that I'll get some weight off it by having my lengths chopped off after the hula show, maybe a couple of inches, maybe more. I will accomplish that this weekend. I need a serious makeover. I'll probably try to sport some salon-cut bangs too. Hopefully it will be different this time since I normally cut them myself when I'm bored. I'll probably have my highlights re-done too since the last one I had was last year. Only if my Vietnamese stylist decides to be generous as I am not willing to spend a fortune at this point. I've even tried uploading my photo on virtual hairstyle sites. I've found a few that suit me, but truthfully, they are really only good for a day, you know.  You step out of the salon as the celeb you've always wanted to look like, but then reality will bite you hard after your first shower. So, try not to take a shower for as long as you can to get your money's worth. *LOL*

Hmm. That ought to pass as my Word of Wisdom for the day. What a floppin' failure...

So anyway, obviously I don't know how to end this post. But since we are in the topic of vanity...

I hope my co-worker (the one who spends one grand per year on eyelashes) doesn't ask me for a ride home today, because I'm not giving her any. I used to let her hitch a ride with me because I felt sorry for her that she's a single mom with a teenaged daughter and it would cost a lot to bring her old car back to running shape. But not anymore. Not when I found out last week from a little birdie that the reason why she's not getting her car fixed or at least buying a cheap used one (cars are necessary here in America for you to function as a useful working adult, Miss Eyelashes!) is because she is going to have a liposuction procedure done in June so she can party in a two-piece with her friends in Georgia this summer. Now that's messed up. It doesn't surprise me, I thought one grand per year on eyelashes is a warning sign enough of screwed up priorities, especially if you're trying to live off other people's time, mileage and gas. And most especially at this time when the homeless and hungry populace is burgeoning into galactic proportions.

Or maybe I'm just jealous of the liposuction.  *duh*

---

B.O.  5-12-09

I have B.O. -- not the stinky one.  LOL. I think I am slightly "Burned Out" over everything in general these days. First of, my blog muse has been eluding me lately. I can't think of anything to write about and I can't even be as spontaneous as I am usually with my writing. You know, usually I'll just log in sans any idea what to say and then words would just pour as naturally as rain in a vessel that would magically transform my thoughts, feelings and even my usually incoherent babble into a concoction that makes sense, however little.

Then the laundry! You'd think I would have been able to do that already since I have been complaining about it in my posts the past couple of weeks. NO! I haven't done it either. Blame it on the non-stop activities last weekend. At this point, I just feel like forever-vegetating and staring at the wall at every given free time. Blame it on the hormones too. It's highly likely...

Because I haven't been blogging on coffee breaks and lunch breaks either!!! What do I do? I take off my shoes (ballet flats lately-- with the heels taking an indefinite hiatus from my regular garb) and then walk barefoot around my cube, even once or twice going as far as the xerox machine without shoes on (how barbaric!), then I pour ice over my half a cup of hot-morning-coffee-gone-cold-after-two-hours-of-sitting-on-my-desk so I can enjoy it on the rocks -- giving the caffeine fix its second life. I sit back, relax, put on my reading glasses and read ghost stories online. I'm hooked.

Last night, after a bazillion errands at South Shore (post office, bank yada yada) and an unspectacular haircut, I chose to be catatonic on our couch, with a bowl of leftover chinese sticky rice with chinese sausages on my chest and launched into a movie marathon with hubby.  Thank God it is sort of "fixed" now, hopefully not temporarily anymore. I've been blabbering incessantly about our TV problems and satellite issues in this blog too for the past six months now. It turns out, one of the MAJOR things we needed to do was prune the tree on our sideyard that's knocking our dishes off the alignment with their coordinates everytime the wind blows hard. And it usually does since our house faces the San Francisco bay and sits just a little more than two miles away from the water with that expanse consisting of marshes, trails, a reserve sanctuary for some endangered species I've never heard of (and we pay 30 bucks a month for to help protect them) and NO HOUSES at all.

So, online Ghost Stories and the highly interesting, entertaining and engaging (despite one's burnout) shows satellite are tiding me over this pitiful state of weariness these days.

Or is it just my way of justifying my swelling indolence and sloth? (read: L-A-Z-Y)  

---

BURGER KING  5-14-09

We just had a very scrumptious supper. At home, not at Burger King. I cooked Carne Asada and some corn and we threw in some homemade spicy salsa from hubby's aunt. Scrumptious. I made sure to take my Fish Oil pills. Although it will not directly wash out the sinful indulgence that we just succumbed to, at least it's one way of taking the guilt from such cholesterol-building treat. Anyway, the meal was a far cry from what I ate last night. I went to Burger King, which is starting to be a routine on wednesday nights now since I started enjoying my window of solitude between work and hula class. I'd usually head to South Shore instead of home and wait for class time there because it's more practical. Sometimes I'd go window-shopping or catch up on some groceries but it all boils down to sitting by myself inside Burger King, eating a quick dinner (food I'm already getting tired of) so I can just chill and watch people in the remaining time (something I'm NOT getting tired of).

Last night, it was an old couple that caught my attention.  They didn't seem to belong the high-income slice of the population but they certainly were very decent, notwithstanding the old lady's worn-out sandals, her white purse, a faded yellow cardigan and the old man's clothes and loafers.  I worried for them. Are they feeling the pinch of the economy too? I wonder how their home looks like. Do they come to Burger King a lot? Was it a date? Where are they going? Do they have children who can take care of them? Do they have enough money? Do they have enough stashed away for their remaining future? Investments? Are they still affectionate to each other? Do they ever fight?

All those questions because only a few days ago, hubby and I were at Burger King when we had to get something to tide us over while waiting for our salon appointment. I wonder how we looked like to other people. Do they ever wonder about our situation in life too and our relationship? Sometimes, I wonder what our future will bring.

Definitely, I want us to grow old like the old couple at Burger King. Together, for better or for worse, scrumptious dinner or not.

---

Catching up accomplished!

So, I'm logging off now to bond with hubby. His gory movie's done.

A light one is comin' right up!

 

Toodles!

 

IT'S COUPLE TIME!!!

Catching Up!

TGIF!!!

I'm home alone because hubby's still at work. I don't think he's working late but I am happy to let him stay there because he only does once in a while anyway. I want him to have some time with the guys off work, with beer, pizza and some bad jokes. I end up having some of the pizza most of the time anyway. He's usually home early, I'm very pleased with that. But I appreciate rare occasions like tonight because these give me a little window of some "ME" time too in order to accomplish my own business. Which is mostly blogging, anyway. And a little Pilates perhaps (my beautiful mat is one neglected object), a short scented candle and spa music moment OR just picking up the whole house without anyone tailgating me around, yes that too!

I'm taking this opportunity to catch up on some posts.  I owe this blogsite a lot. This is my first baby and contains pretty much my entire journey since 2005. Suffice it to say, I'm lagging on updates which I have already submitted at my Coffee, Anyone site weeks before -- that being my income-generating blogsite. And at this time, I need every cent that comes in from bits and pieces that I write. So I'm going to copy-paste some old entries, just for record purposes. And I'm going to do it quick because I have the feeling that hubby's coming home soon!

SMELLING THE FLOWERS 4-21-09

10 Random Things About ME:

1. I am not a good writer, but I love to write. And I always try my best to write from the heart. So that is something I'm really really really proud of.

2. I have this big passion for life. I embrace changes, crave for adventure (except if it's deep-dark-sea related or cave-moss-spelunking related), I bravely trod beyond my comfort zones when necessary, I try not to sweat the small stuff as much as possible.

3. Back in college, my friends used to call me "MAX" for Maximum Tolerance of People -- even the least likeable ones! Dingdongs, witches-beeyatches and nutheads. The funny thing was, they always gravitated to the shrink side of me, they would flock to me *LOL*. I was never a push-over, just very very patient and tolerant. Compassion and tolerance are not a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength (Dalai Lama).  And if I do "lose it" on you, then you must be really really something: a very difficult piece of work.  I still pretty much possess the same quality right now. Still patient, but still never a push-over. I can and will still give it to you if you try to walk over me, step on my toes OR other people's toes, whoever they are, whether I know them personally or not.

4. I am lactose-intolerant but I still eat a lot of cheese, drink milk and adore cream-based soups and dishes. Then suffer later. I have prescription glasses but I rarely wear them. I have a cellphone but I usually miss the calls. I have a love-hate (mostly hate) relationship with my cellphone. If it's an emergency, call my husband. I am stubborn like that. And in so many other areas of my life too. Workin' on it!

5. I love to dance. It makes me happy. I have a special spot for ballet (something I used to do when I was little), a love affair with jazz (something I'd like to think I'm good at -- and I'm passionate about), a physical-relationship-of-some-sort, *can't think of how else to describe it but really it is a physical relationship!* with hip-hop, an on and off fling with reggae (oh, that primal beat!)...okay, it's getting hot in here. Now, my heart is in hula.

6. I have this humongous FAITH in God that's why I don't worry so much. I am at peace with HIS Divine Will.

7. Please leave the drama at the door, I don't eat those stuff. Consider me HIGHLY "BRONCHIAL-CONSTRICTION-KIND-OF-ALLERGIC-REACTION" ALLERGIC.

8. I am not afraid of ghosts.

9. I can't go out in the sun without sunglasses -- especially if I'm driving. I get antsy, woozy and sick when it's too hot and bright (vampire ).  So yeah, I'm a sunglass-freak, especially the designer ones that are trendy with real genuine UV-protection lenses. And oh, I hate sunblock.  That's why I love sunsets.

10. I wish I can have MORE time to paint and draw works of art at this point. There is a crazy restrained artist living inside me. Sometimes it screams, but Thank God most of the time it just dances inside my head. *LOL*

---

EARTH DAY 4-22-09

It's about time we take care of something that takes care of us.It's about time that we returned the favor.

It's high time that we squared up to Mother Nature.

Really.

It's long overdue.



 

---

 

 

HALLOWEEN IN APRIL  4-24-09

I could swear I heard some knockin'.Three loud taps. "Bang! Boog! Bam!" was more like it. It was loud, it was consistent and it happened several times. I heard it outside the window of our kitchen sink.  That was two nights ago when I was alone and waiting for hubby to finish his softball game with the boys. STRANGE.  And so I ended up being the most "scaredy-cat" scaredy cat that I've ever been. Normally, I wouldn't call hubby. Normally, I will walk straight into what's going on in a Girl Scout mode, confront the issue and try to be a heroine if I have to.

Normally, I would pretend I wasn't afraid even if I already was.

Normally, I WOULDN'T call hubby and talk to him as he drove all the way home until he pulled up to the garage and I sat on the couch in the corner of our living room, with no TV or stereo on to make sure I heard every sound, with my eyes as round as golf balls -- as protruding as if they were actual golf balls on the sockets, my legs curled up under me, and my head doing a perfect impersonation of a terrible stiff neck so I couldn't see the window on my left and the window on my right, or through the blinds just in case something else was going on out there.

But that's exactly what transpired!

It's the first time I've ever heard that kind of sound new house. Is it the wall or some kind of paneling between the walls giving in? Already!??? Is it a ghost? I'm not afraid of ghosts. If I do see them, I'll probably be more curious or MAD at them for walking over my territory. Suffice it to say, it's the first time that I felt a tiny ball of fear in the pit of my stomach.

I lost half of my usual presence of mind because the knocks were so loud, persistent and real. As if a real person was actually on the other side of the kitchen window, begging me to open it. Then a vision of a thousand or so horror and thriller movies I've seen in my whole life flashed before me. Or what if it was a real person? At first, I thought it was hubby playing a trick again but when I finally reached him on his cellphone, I could hear the sound of the traffic and him speeding away as he talked to me. Was it our neighbor then? What's our neighbor's business banging on my window? Plus, how could he do it if there is a tall fence and some ample space between our houses? Or is it him whacking about his garbage bins so loud I thought it was happening right on our window?

Whatever it was that night, I still have no clue. It was enough to make me avoid the kitchen while I was alone. I think I've succeeded at pretending that no one from within cared about the banging. I avoided the kitchen too since our two sliding glass doors to the backyard are still bare. Hubby said he'll probably add some automatic sensor-activated floodlights in our yard and finally, drapes!!! I do hate the thought or feeling of being watched from outside especially from an area that I couldn't even see from where  I stand. If ever, I'd want to stare back at whatever, whoever's staring at me. It's always better than not knowing at all, right?

How about you?

*And who's that one standing behind you?*

---

MONDAYS AREN'T...  4-27-09

...my Mondays if nothing hilarious is happening, at least to me! Hey, I'm not complaining!!! It's just something funny and I still can't get over the fact that I didn't hear the clock radio blasting a hiphop song out so loud on my scheduled alarm of 6:55am. I opened my eyes at...guess what...7:29 am and the clock radio was still singing. I swear didn't hit snooze, I didn't dilly-dally nor procastinate. I just didn't hear it. How on earth did it happen? Anyway, the amusing part is, I usually leave at 7:30am to make it to work. And I still made it. I was just behind by 2 minutes.  Now, how on earth was I able to do that???

I promised myself I'll never ever get traffic violations anymore. I didn't today, so it's all good. I am still puzzled though because I was plucked out of delta sleep at 7:29 am. We slept at 12ish which is our typical shut-eye time.

I think the weekend had been a little tiring. Just some trade-offs for a little fun that we had.  Saturday, hubby and I had a little cute date in the city. We always enjoy doing that, just walking around, watching people, drinking our coffee, hanging at our favorite spots, shopping/window-shopping. We dined at Buca di Beppo over a generous plate of carbonara and a treat of Limoncello (that was awesome!). Sunday, we woke up late for the 7:30 am mass *hmm, I see a pattern here* so we had breakfast at McDonald's first, shopped for some house supplies at Big Lots and went to church at 10:30a instead. Then we caught up with chores at home and got the kitchen going for a simple dinner with my sister and her hubby, and my cousin and her family. That was awesome too.  I made my dad's family recipe of homemade mayonnaise, bought some fried fish at the Asian Store, and hubby made a mean, and rather deadly, pork dish with our NuWave Oven.  It was funny watching him show-off his new toy. He's really proud of it although he regrets having bought it at Bed Bath and Beyond. His friends ordered it online, so theirs came with a dome extender and a demo cd and some other freebies. I knew we should have ordered it online, I could have gotten a Slap ChOP for free. Or that amazing ShamWow -- that can be used as a flood control system LOL, or the Titan Peeler, that isn't called Titan for nothing. I'm a sucker for those! Hahaha.

Anyhoo, hubby's next dream domestic machine is a Panini Maker.  It's even in his 40th birthday wish list. Anyway, if we end up getting one, I'll make sure we won't be too tired using and showing it off on a Sunday night.

I don't want to pull off another 7:29 stunt.

---

OVERDRIVE : Part Two (hundred) 4-29-09) 

I apologize for not having paid some worthwhile visits lately. It's part and parcel of my life to shift on overdrive intermittently. Frequently, rather. I used to hate it, but now, I am so much less unperturbed. It comes with practice. I am currently on my lunch break, writing this in between generous bites of pollo quesadilla that hubby picked up for me last night, or the other way around. And in a biological point viewpoint, have just received a booster shot of epinephrine from my adrenal gland's old reliable medulla.  Pardon my jargon, but stress leaves me when I play on that level.

Our hula show is going to be on May 2nd and I am occupied with rehearsals, dress rehearsals, photo shoots, selling tickets, finalizing costumes to the nitty gritty details. I make it sound so big, don't I? It is serious business if it's something you are very passionate about, no matter how mundane it might be.

Besides, why do things half-baked?

It is a challenge because general rehearsal week happens to fall on hubby's big 4-0 birthday week, something he has so looked forward to for one whole year. I wanted to spend my time with him but I am ending up spreading myself thinly due to the hula practices, coming home late, and impersonating a miserable zombie who pretends to be a normal person until caught offguard (doing Michael Jackson's famous thriller jerks).

We are ordering takeouts for dinner, taking clothes off the hamper because I haven't folded them, and looking for the floor because it had been missing for days -- hiding underneath layers of clutter and gunk. I'm exaggerating, my home isn't that filthy. But the laundry issue is true. I hope to catch up tonight but we have practices until around 9pm. I wanted to have dinner with hubby but it is so much more practical for me to head to the studio's direction than come back home.  Good thing he will be preoccupied with adjusting our satellite dish and configuring the TV downstairs.  Yes, the whole Satellite TV issue hasn't been resolved after 50 million years of trial and error  and blogging about it for the longest time --did you seriously think I was doing it just for the sake of blog advertising?

Speaking of which, a lot of opportunities for paid articles expired on me too. Where can I buy extra 6 hours of time each day? That will be good business, a day-booster pack? Where you can buy extra 3 hours or 6 to extend your day and accomplish all your stuff. That will be the day.

But just as I said, I am unperturbed compared to how I've managed in the past. Practice makes perfect.

I also made a big decision to quit HALF the dancing. I am no longer dancing tahitian beginning this month so that is one hour less for classes. Hubby does not want me to give up hula since he knows that the art makes me happy and I need it for exercise anyway. Perhaps, he's also proud of me.  I will probably be performing less too. But that will depend on the event or show that's happening. I just recently added three very beautiful costumes to my collection and we might have to put that to good use and milk the life out of. We'll see.

Hubby being very persnickety about his 4-0 bash isn't helping. I didn't and couldn't come up with a birthday surprise either. I want to kick myself for shortchanging the special occasion but since hubby had been initially vocal about his wishes at first, I wanted to make things happen the way he wanted it. To cut to the chase, we are left with less than 24 hours to decide because his birthday's tomorrow! Good thing we do not have hula practice tomorrow (lucky a$$~!), but I will not miss his special day for the world. I will drop everything if he wants me to. But though he would flinch and frown at times, especially on the late hours, he lets me go on. He lets me be me even if it required some sacrifice from his end. That is exactly why I want his birthday to be extra special. How do I tell this man how grateful I am???THE HOME STRETCH:

Tonight...I'm shooting out to South Shore to pick up some groceries, call my parents in the Philippines on my cellphone to catch up with them while I eat a quick dinner somewhere, and hopefully figure something out that's within proximate distance. I did save a significant amount for hubby's birthday presents. I will visit the closest craft/party store to pick up some balloons and some birthday doodads. And then dance the night away.

Thursday night (tomorrow)...We will definitely go out for dinner. He did say something about lobster. Please keep your fingers crossed that I will be able to dress up and do my hair and look extra special and hot on his special day, even if inside, I am a snuffed-out candle hanging on to the last threads of my frayed immune system. My allergies have been acting up, my nose is runny, and I am forever carrying a shroud of fog around my head anywhere I go. It's anchored to my sinuses. I hope I haven't gone down with the Swine Flu by tomorrow. Late Thursday night...come home...make sure to treat him extra special , if not knock him out   LOL. And so I can then ninja-crawl my way to the other room to steam-iron my costumes. One skirt alone is made up of 5 yards of fabric and I'm not saying that just for the sake of literary flair.

Friday...work...night...tech rehearsal. Leave all costumes at the studio.

Late Friday night...see what hubby's up to. Midnight...take a shower, clean my toes, braid my hair (hula hair is supposed to be poofy and frizzy and mine is as straight as a bunch of kebab sticks),  pack all show essentials...

Saturday noon...performance. Dedicate it to the man who wasn't fed properly (didn't feel as loved?) during this whole shebang.

Saturday night...if everything pans out as hoped, including hubby's attempt to resuscitate our satellite dish signals (we have two and both have decided to act up on the wrong time like two spoiled brats), we will have some friends and family over to watch the Paquiao Boxing match at home. Over some barbecue and beer.

My big little boy will have a 40th birthday party after all.

And I will sleep soundly on Sunday. With a little patience, we'll get there. We always do.

---

LEVMETAMFETAMINED OUT!  05-07-09

he way, that's not an illegal drug.  It's this Nasal Decongestant stick a.k.a. Vick's Inhaler that I have found myself drawn to for a week now.

Snorting Sniffing too much of it must have dehydrated my cerebrospinal fluid as I have not been able to post anything worthwhile here since Sunday after I hibernated in a long, deep and "alas, no more crazy sched stress" kind of slumber. Yes, I insist on denying the rumors that I fell into coma after doing the hula show (please click this to check out the photos if you haven't already).  It's not true that I got the Swine flu either. But I did start exhibiting some swine-like behavior such as sleeping and eating too much (but what else is new?), vegetating 24/7, snoring loudly I wake myself up every night (and you think I'm just kidding?!), and practically spending most of my time just looking down on the ground because I'm too lazy to keep my posture straight and look people in the eyes. *snort*

It's about time I collect myself before I get booted out from one of the prolific companies I blog for. They sent me a reminder memo today that I have been slacking on my projects and seriously underperforming, and yes, they might have to suspend me one day.  I've never been this delinquent before!!!

So I'm catching up with my writing and cramming on top gear, albeit with my fried brain. *snort*

And oh, I just dipped my toes in a very lucrative online business that promises good returns if you work good enough. I haven't had time to focus yet (since I am still in a swine-like period) but I have to get my ball rolling if I don't want to be threatened to be booted out of that too.  And oh, if you're interested in what I just got myself into, email me at linkmaster@wonderwifey.com. Who knows? It might be good for you too?

 

 

Not as bad as I had thought...

Monday.

I'm not complaining at all.  Not anymore. Hopefully not ever!

We reached our garage from our trip to L.A. at exactly 12:52 am, we put some stuff away until we couldn't hang anymore and decided to leave some things strewn around by our humble foyer. I was having a little bit of sinus congestion and dry throat so I turned my new bestfriend on...that's my new Vick's humidifier by the way, and then went to sleep.

Thankfully, I didn't oversleep. Monday meant the official run of our upgraded computer system, no ifs, ands or buts. Sink or swim. We had a few trial runs with the upgraded software last week, but we didn't encounter any glitch. Kinks usually show up on the actual things anyway, so I was holding my breath for that.

Thankfully again, now almost a day into the new one, I think it's not as bad as I had thought...

Everything's manageable, no major mishaps so far, even if my brain accidentally jumped out last night somewhere in a pothole by Interstate 5.

Sometimes, our fears are way bigger than the actual thing itself.

I don't even know why I'm trying to pull out a word of wisdom out of this experience. The computer upgrade is too menial of an experience compared to my bigger scheme of things.

But maybe that's how the wise come to be.

My Take on Imaginary Friends

=special thanks to my couzin annie who shared "ivan" to me=

I've never felt so beguiled and enamoured (I think "smitten" is more like it) by a character in a book as I've been by Ivan of Cecelia Ahern's "If You Could See Me Now". A real charmer. And he's not even a real person.

But then, how do we prove what's real or not anyway?

You see, Ivan is an imaginary friend. And the book showed a never-been explored side of imaginary friends, their own thoughts and feelings -- what makes their hearts sing and what makes them weak on the knees. It's such a wonderful modern-day tale that crossed the boundaries of usual paradigms we were raised to believe.

Are they real? Or are they real in a totally different sense? I personally think they are.  After all, THOUGHT IS REAL, PHYSICAL IS THE ILLUSION.

Imaginary friends or imaginary companions are pretend characters often created by kids.  According to Wikipedia, "imaginary friends often function as tutelaries (or perform a tutelary function) when they are engaged by the child in play activity. Imaginary friends may exist for the child into adolescence and sometimes adulthood. Imaginary friends often have elaborate personalities and behaviors. Although they may seem very real to their creators, studies have shown that children understand that their imaginary friends are not real.^" According to several theories of psychology, an understanding of a child's conversations with their imaginary friends can reveal a lot about the anxieties and fears of that child as well as the child's aspirations and perception of the world. Some children report that their "imaginary friends" manifest themselves physically and are indistinguishable from "real" people, while others say that they only see their friends in their head.

I believe that imaginary friends serve a purpose.  They are there to answer a child's undefined needs. A child unconsciously creates a character in his mind that fulfills what is lacking in his environment, whether it is deeply-rooted such as love and affection or as basic as company, a "buddy" to play with.

According to Wikipedia, a long-time popular misconception holds that most children dismiss or forget the imaginary friend once they begin school and acquire 'real' friends. According to one study, by the age of seven, sixty-five percent of children report that they have had an imaginary companion at some point in their lives.Some psychologistshave suggested that children simply retain but stop speaking about imaginary friends, due to adult expectations and peer pressure. Children have reported creating or maintaining imaginary friends as pre-teens or teenagers, and very few adults report having imaginary friends. This may, however, signal a serious psychological disorder. Disturbing, hhhmmmmm...

This sends my mind careening wildly into the past. This imaginary friend hype joggled my memory of Jack. Let's just call him Jack because I have forgotten his name since I stopped talking to him when I was around 6 or 7 years old.

Like Ivan, Jack isn't a typical same-aged imaginary friend. Jack (who looked more like a "David" but let's just call him Jack) was perhaps in his early thirties when I first met and "adopted" him. I was maybe four then. I saw him at this department store my family frequented when I was young. It's called ShoeMart.  If you're from the Philippines, you'll know what I'm talking about. ShoeMart then was a small department store compared to the huge empire that it is now.

Jack wore a pair of faded denim bell-bottoms, a white t-shirt and a faded denim jacket. If I remember correctly, he sported a wide black worn-out leather belt and a pair of shiny black shoes. You see, Jack was a store mannequin. In an instant, I was captivated by his smile, his towering height next to me, and a seemingly indestructible build radiating strength and security (hard plastic and plaster, what can you expect?)

Jack and I had wonderful days as friends. He always played with me when he's not "working", brought home food (since we were in the topic of children's needs, that was probably my basic and most sought-after need as a child, hhmmmm), he gave me little trinkets, and we traveled everywhere, parks, the circus, my grandmother's garden. And oh, his wallet. I remember he had a leather wallet too, but he didn't have a lot of money. And I thought he was always sad and tired, but helping him out and being a good friend to him brought me joy. I remember I would send him sandwiches to wherever he worked, and other shallow pretend play like that.

You know what I loved the most about my friend Jack? He always took me to the store where he worked (that, of course, was just pretend play). He told me to sneak in the fitting rooms and wait for him while he worked. He worked hard all day. Can you imagine trying to be a frozen statue and not being able to move all day just to sport whatever was the most popular fashion for that season? I'd wait for hours for him so we could play again and talk about so many interesting things. I remember the fitting room to be cold and clean and bright from the flourescent light. Sometimes he'd sneak in so we can talk about my day or introduce me to his friends and his friends' kids the same size as me. All of them, including the kids worked in that store. They were all mannequins. But they were all nice and good-natured, exactly how I wanted the world around me to be.

Jack was my imaginary friend. Or looking back now, I realize that perhaps, I was his.

 

PS. Did you have an imaginary friend too? What was he/she like? Tell me!!!

By the way, this book started out as my bathroom book (I read it one page per day, a little at a time) but as the story unfolded, I found myself cheating to no end until I got to the last page. If you're interested, grab the book now. I heard from a little birdie that Walt Disney already bought the film rights and will come out with the movie by 2011.

I still crave for more of Ivan. I'm still captivated by his charm and wish that his story never ended.  Perhaps it hasn't. How do we know anyway?

My Peter Pan

- originally posted in Coffee, Anyone? as a commercial post, duly edited to take out the commercial value -

My hubby's  excited he'll be turning 40 soon. If I remember correctly, I never even heard him say 39 when asked.  First it was 36...then 37...then 38...and then "I'm turning 40."

It's quite amusing hearing this young spirit chatter away like that. He's looking forward to aging! But that's a good sign. I know he's going to age gracefully and embrace the rust that will appear with time (including mine).

He's even got frames picked for future eyeglasses that he doesn't even need yet. He's too obvious in pushing the idea too, like complaining about a haze around images at night, or even dry itchy eyes (for prescriptions? try again). I think he's trying his darnest to sport some spectables as a form of 40-ish dashing debonaire fashion statement.

Then, he came home from a doctor's appointment once and was so darn proud of the inhalers and other breathing paraphernalia that he came home with. "I have bronchitis and I think I have asthma too!", he announced like it's a big milestone, laying them all out on a tray lined by a clean white towel in the bathroom, while doing a hilarious rendition of the cabbage-patch dance.

He embraces signs of being imperfect and weak but not to a point of trying to pull off a self-fulfilling prophecy. In fact, you can see that he struggles to prove otherwise.

I love his attitude! He's now even opening up to trying some of my beauty regimen to take care of his skin like my Oil of Olay Regenerist wipes and my secret to flawless skin facial foam wash. Far from being metrosexual still, but assuring me that he's starting to take care of himself no less.

I am also amazed at how dedicated a family man he has become. I flinched one time when his cousin tried to be cool by saying,"That's why I'm not married yet, so I don't have to ask permission from anyone if I want to buy something...and I can do whatever I want, whenever!".  Someday, dear, you'll grow up too.  Hubby still falls for toys for the big boys (those expensive Rolexes, guns and Beamers) but holds back in view of his priorities. He has gained my respect for that, especially when I know he wants them so bad.  He said he doesn't get affected if people sometimes kid him about not wearing the pants. The truth is, we are a team and he wants to wholeheartedly give his share to this very special team. I think it radiates from a sense of FINALLY being happy and whole.  You can't give yourself to anyone if you are still searching for parts of your missing self to begin with. He respects my opinions as much as I respect his. He even said one time, "I have found my ultimate purpose in life, and that is to keep my family happy. My girls, most especially" -- that means my stepdaughter and me.  That's why I'd like to give him the world as much as I can too. It is a mutual thing.

This chicks-of-the-past's former Peter Pan has finally grown up.

And this Peter Pan has chosen to grow old with me.

Off to a Good Start

 

Monday isn't cruel after all.

But I'm telling you, it ain't a breeze to combat the Monday blues, what with my knack for all things disastrous -- on Mondays. I woke up with hurting tonsils again. And I just finished my bottle of antibiotics!

With the hope of starting things right, I started my morning with a cup of a new brand of yogurt. New, for my stomach. A few minutes later, I felt so sick that I was ready to flip over in endless somersault to shake everything out of my system.

But I promised myself I'll make friends with Mr. Monday.

And I am rewarded for keeping a positive attitude.

First comes a free can of Coke, then comes F-R-E-E P-I-Z-Z-A!



I know, it looks more like chowmein than a slice of pizza, but that is so vegetarialicious good! Thanks to our baby shower at work for our IT guy's baby. She's already born too, so at 9 weeks, she came over to her baby shower here at work.

 

And then this:

 (for my Coffee, Anyone? site -- this is my second time to receive this...and it's not given by a fellow blogger, it's given by the admin staff of Bravejournal.com!) Please click on the button to view the main page where my site is announced. Hurry as I only have one week of fame...) And MONDAY is almost gone!

So...Monday and I are calling it a TRUCE!

Thank you, Bravenet! Thank you, blogsphere!

And if you have time, please visit these lil guys too:

Wonder Wifey

Clarisse After Dark

If you do, Monday and I will truly be BFF for life!

Take your Time

I decided that I'm going to change my attitude toward Mondays from now on.

I won't rush into the day, I'll take my time, I'll cherish every second.

I'll live for the present hour instead of the next.

I will not wait impatiently for the clock to do its job. Instead, I'll will make the clock wait for me as I do my job.

And I will try to give my heart to everything, my work, the food I prepare, the chores, even the casual conversation with hubby and friends. I will not float somewhere else. I will be with the moment, stay at the moment and focus on the moment.

TAKE YOUR TIME, EVERYONE! And have a great week, even before the weekend starts!

What! It's Friday again!?!

Days travel in the speed of light these days. It's Friday again! The weekend is always a welcome treat that we always look forward to. Perhaps, that's why the days seem to whiz by like bullets these days. The week is reduced to nothing but a mad scramble toward another weekend.

Maybe we shouldn't look forward to the weekends too much then. The cumulative rush brings us to a future that we usually find ourselves not ready for yet. Kids growing up too fast, old people getting even older (and then we resist the thought of them succumbing to illness and death), important and memorable events with loved ones soon being over, projects finished, another one started...our lives leaving us in restless wonder, where have all my days gone?

So instead of spending time spinning like anxious dogs chasing their own tails, let's slow down and start drinking in the cosmic serenity of the present moment. Every step we take (what's the rush?), every breath, every empty second. Stop and smell the flowers. It's been a cliche because it has proven its legitimacy through time.

Perhaps I should start enjoying, milking every second and maximizing my Mondays.

Let's not rush into the weekend. Because in so doing, we might end up not as parched for a weekend respite after all.

The Future of Blogging

Just so you'd know, I'm thinking of you. Yes, you, whoever you are reading this.

But I am not in the mood to write, or rather, write about anything in particular. Like I've never been aimless or pointless in the past! Yes, the paid projects have been put on the back burner because I just can't think.

I've been obsessed with enlisting my new project "Wonder Wifey" in different blog directories lately. A crashing headache, some floating sensations and amusing double vision later, it's still raking a whopping 0 in Page Rank. I'm not worried. It takes time. I am inclined to believe that the universe is waiting for me to finally make up my mind about what direction I'll take that blogsite to. Anywhere, except for plummet south. I hope. We'll see.

I realized that there is a tremendous benefit that one can get from blogging. I liken it to a hands-on school with self-directed training on at least some computer fundamentals. I am willing to bet that each registered blogger can now write a short HTML or CSS code in her sleep.

The free vocabulary exercise is not to be ignored too. And don't forget, the free exercise of self-expression!

Blogging is changing society and the world.  It is redefining the way we relate to each other and to issues.  It helps us take away cobwebs from our minds and it irons out our thoughts for ourselves and for others. In effect, it is helping us grow.

"The unexamined life is not worth living." (Socrates)

It is a fun and entertaining therapy for everyone too. We learn from people's experiences and points of view, and people learn from ours. We acquire more information than we normally would if we didn't blog, and we share more useful information than we normally would in the classroom or by just socializing alone. And yes, it is a double-bladed sword. Some people are able to tread private grounds without the subject's consent (Hi, Stalker from IL -- "I see dead people, but they don't know that they are dead"). But blogging itself is a blanket waiver. It is similar to opening a window when you want to let the good air in. The bad breeze whisks along with it.

 

Are we on the road to getting smarter? (or just more nosy?)

We have never imagined more than a decade ago that open journals will proliferate in the world wide web one day.

When Doogie Howser MD sort of introduced the concept (check this out: someone transcribed the shows into a real blog, THE PERSONAL JOURNAL OF DOOGIE HOWSER,MD!), I've started blogging in my XT 286 PC back in that era of green monochrome phosphor screens. I still have my entries saved in those 5.25" floppy disks back home -- except that they probably wouldn't have withstood the test of time, now moldy, dusty and warped.  Plus, who has floppy drives nowadays?

Decades from now, are we all going to be walking geniuses who communicate and do everything with computers, shrinking the entire earth into a world of interconnected and networked societies, enjoying virtual relationships and friendships. (And even "consummations"?) 

I am scared.  Technical advancements are more than welcome. But I hope we don't forget the basics of which the tapestry of mankind is still woven from -- affection (a hug, touch or a kiss); being physically present on birthdays, graduations, little league events, Thanksgivings and other holidays; family, kindred spirits around a dinner table, three kinds of ice cream...LIVING, LAUGHING AND LOVING. 

If there is anything, I'm hoping that aside from photo and video applications, there would be some kind of smell-o-vision platforms!

You, where do you think are we heading after this?

Like in 2050 A.D.  A.B.  ("Ano Bloggini")...

Be Careful What You Wish For

Still miserable but better.

That's how I feel now.

If there is anything good that came out of my whirlwind affair with Streptococcal Bacteria, I believe there are two things: I lost seven frala-la-shmalooting pounds (at least that's what the bathroom scale tells me -- and it never changed its mind on me until today) and I'm a little de-stressed in life, simply staying home and enjoying the sickness excuse to not care about anything. I stare at the ceiling, I oversleep, I watch TV, I tinker on my laptop for as long as I want, I don't do chores, I vegetate, I reek of drool, I let body hair grow out, I skip on vanity regimen...and now I'm basking in a joyous moment surrounding an unexpected shedding of some pounds I've always tried to lose-- hoping that I don't gain them back overnight as I have a tendency to do so. I can't even eat. I've lost my appetite. Oh what a perfect world, isn't it?

But I ask myself, will I ever want to go through the same painful ordeal again? The same pain that controlled all of me, since the average number of swallows per hour of humans is 68±8. That's the same amount of exposure to pain per hour I got. More than one torture hit per minute. For 48 hours straight (including sleeping non-sleeping time)...and counting.

And my pain wasn't the typical tonsillitis pain I've encountered in the past. My tolerance might have deteriorated, yes, but I'm still sane enough to know that my judgement is valid. It hurt and it hurt like hell. And I've been enslaved by the power of Tylenol and Chloraseptic (oral anesthetic) for the past couple of days. Not having the bottles in sight was enough to drive me insecure. And they only relieved me by perhaps 25%. I also believed I have developed some kind of phobia for swallowing, or even just the thought of it. Imagine this, my body involuntarily cringes and physically recoils to an impending act of swallowing and in some occasions, I even had to count 1..2..3...go. I would end up bawling after sneezing episodes and I'd be miserable just with the thought of eating. Not to mention the headaches, fever and chills. And the Rheumatic Fever scare that I constantly worried about in my heart, and for my heart.

I remember that before the weekend, I had planned to call in sick at work so I can bring my visiting cousins around in the city (SF). I was seriously tempted to take the sick day because I knew I needed some time off to relax too and perhaps appease the crazy part of me that wants to play hookie at times. I've even contemplated on the details of my lie, feigning an illness that wasn't even there. It never panned out though due to some confusion in schedule and something urgent that came up at work.

Next time, I should really be careful with what I wish for. Because my wishes get granted. And I get them big time. And excruciatingly painful too.

God really has a good sense of humor.

This made me appreciate the spunk of those who are battling more daunting illnesses, and the stoutheartedness of those who are suffering, whether physical or emotional pain.

This one made me appreciate my life, perched in the normal bracket in the spectrum of life, having better health than most people, and days and days of smiles and pain-free living.

And yes, this one humbled me.