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The Blue Family

2012-01-17T21:01:00.012+08:00

Ever since I was a kid, the word "Ateneo" was a household term. My parents went to college in this institution; in fact, without Ateneo, they wouldn't have fallen in love, gotten married and had four children. Because we would hear this word time and again as kids, my siblings and I grew up thinking that we would one day study in this university; nowhere else.

Once I reached high school, my immediate goal was to pass the Ateneo entrance exam and major in Communication (how I decided on that course is another story). I did just that, along with procuring a minor degree in Hispanic Studies. Four years later, armed with an Ateneo diploma, I entered the world of advertising.

While I was a college senior, my brother enrolled as a college freshman. It was surreal to see him in the cafeteria and along the corridors since I went to an all-girls' high school and he went to an all-boys' high school (coincidentally, the Ateneo High School). Like me, he eventually became a Communication graduate and is now in the marketing division of one of the top television networks in the country.

The pressure then weighed heavily on our sister to go to Ateneo for college. Always a success story in the academic realm, she did pass the Ateneo exam with flying colors and sailed through life as a Management Economics major. She graduated Cum Laude and today, she works in the sales department of one of the largest multinational nutrition and wellness corporations.

Last but not the least, our youngest brother, a high school senior of -- surprise, surprise -- the Ateneo High School, found out just this weekend that he passed the college entrance exam. This June, he'll be enrolling as a freshman majoring in Philosophy, like our dad. Our very driven, very disciplined youngest has plans of becoming a lawyer someday.

There is not a day that goes by without some mention of Ateneo or anything related to this institution. We can't help it; our mom is the Director of University Communications and Public Relations and our dad is always updated on the goings-on of our basketball team. Dinner conversations at home focus on basketball games, the athletes, university events, fundraisers, notable alumni, and everything else under the sun.

Ateneo is also a topic of conversation on both sides of our family whenever we have get-togethers. Our dad's father and brothers went to the Ateneo for high school. A cousin of ours is currently a freshman majoring in Legal Management. Mom's sister is also an Ateneo Communication graduate. Other relatives on both sides of the family were also Ateneo graduates.

Also, the first Filipino rector of the Ateneo was our great grand uncle, Fr. Fritz Araneta, S.J.

Needless to say, we are very much a blue-blooded family. From the time my siblings and I were born, we were practically destined to follow in our parents' footsteps. I felt the pressure to be the first Ateneo graduate in the family (from this generation, at least), yet I wholeheartedly welcomed this opportunity. I wasn't forced into becoming an Atenean; I was one even before my first day of college. To a certain extent, my siblings feel the same way. It was expected of us to pass the ACET and enroll in this institution, yet we made the decision to study there.

Ateneo may not necessarily be the best school in the country (I'm sure other universities, especially our Maroon neighbor and Green archenemy, have valid things to say about their own institutions) but in our minds, it was a blessing to have chosen this university. We were groomed to become men and women for others just like we were given opportunities to go after our dream jobs. We learned theoretical terms like thaumazein and facticité, but we mingled with people from different walks of life and even spent time reaching out to less fortunate rural and urban communities. We took up student leadership positions in organizations and hit the books when it was time to study. We've had teachers who inspired us but we've also had "terror profs" who served as badges of honor in an "I survived *insert prof's name*" kind of way. We've found friends who we know will stick around for the rest of our lives.

Yes, we're the family decked in blue during the basketball season. You see pictures of us cheering when albums are uploaded by sports photographers. We watch replays of basketball games (and DVDs of past championship seasons, I might add) and try to catch as many of the other UAAP sporting events as well. We're there, too, at other events scattered all throughout the academic year. Bonfires, Thanksgiving Masses, outreach programs, graduations; you name it, we've been there.

We're extreme that way, yet we don't know how to be any other way.

Someday, when my siblings, cousins, and I have our own kids, we'd want them to go to Ateneo as well. But we wouldn't impose this on them. They have all the free will in the world to go after what makes them happy, regardless of university.

Because if they turn out to be anything like us, they'll come to embrace their inherent blue-bloodedness.

The Ateneo Way is our family's way, after all.

Going Ga-Ga Over Sophia

2012-01-17T14:17:00.014+08:00

Just these last two days, I've had the privilege of witnessing a really good friend of mine embrace a new role in her life: the most challenging and most noble of professions, in my opinion.

A little over a year ago, Rej got married to Vince and soon enough, the couple started getting used to and enjoying married life. One day, after a few months of being Mrs. Siy, Rej confirmed that she was pregnant.

It wasn't always an easy pregnancy for Rej. There were times that she had to be bedridden. Towards the end of her third trimester, she spent five weeks in the hospital because of premature contractions. But she held on and with much prayer, she was able to carry her baby to full-term.

Last January 15, Sophia Alessandra was born. Rej delivered her the Lamaze way in just a few hours (a product of her mom's, Chiqui Brosas-Hahn's, Lamaze methods) and Sophie was the picture of health when she came into this world.

Rej took to motherhood so naturally!

Mommy Rej, Baby Sophie, and Tita Tina. We're praying that Sophie also grows up to be a giant, just like us (Rej is half an inch taller than my 5'8" stature).

Daddy Vince now has two girls to fall head over heels in love with.

Sophie's face is half-Vince (the upper half) and half-Rej (the lower half). She's so precious!

From IT whiz, to beauty queen, to supportive wife, and now "Mommy", Rej is on a roll.

I'm so excited for Rej and Vince and for everything that's in store for their baby girl. It's such a privilege to be part of Sophie's life. Along with Rej's and my other girl friends, I'd love to be that aunt who'll make silly faces with Sophie, teach her about shapes and colors, buy her books (I make sure that all my nephews/nieces/godchildren like reading by spoiling them with books), read Bible stories to her, push her on the swings, take her shopping, and capture moment after moment of her growing up years with my camera.

And someday, I'll also tell her the story of how her mom and I became friends — first as four-year-old sidekicks in Sunday School, then best buds in the fifth grade after she moved to my school — and I'll tell her how important it is to find friends she can grow old with.

Welcome to the world, Baby Sophie! Auntie Tina loves you!

Making This a Good Year

2012-01-03T12:05:00.009+08:00

Now that it's officially 2012 (and I'm actually back at work; hello, desk!), I've been making plans to improve myself. No resolutions, though, because I never stick to them.

My plans for the year are simple enough that while I don't have to commit to any of them, they're pretty doable.

I feel the need to write them down so I can look at them someday and mentally tick off what I'd have accomplished by then.

Here are some of them:

1) Eat healthier. I'm a fan of food, I love carbs (pasta and sandwiches over rice any day), and I occasionally enjoy a fast food meal or two. I also prefer chips to desserts or chocolates. Now that I'm getting older (this year will be monumental because I'll be crossing over to the next decade, believe it or not) and I need to make some lifestyle changes. I won't completely eliminate my indulgences from my diet; I just need to learn how to say "no" to them more often.

2) Exercise more regularly. I can't always depend on my biking group's plans to be my only source of exercise. If I can walk/do workouts at home around thrice a week, I'll be happy.

3) Celebrate my birthday in a meaningful way. As I mentioned earlier, I'm saying goodbye to my twenties (which I'm still having a hard time accepting; hello, dekada trenta!) and I want to make this particular birthday a purposeful one. I don't know yet how I want to celebrate my birthday this year (off the top of my head, I'm thinking of probably spending an afternoon in an orphanage — still thinking/praying about it), but I want it to be different from the usual party. I want it to mean something.

4) Learn a new skill. I'm thinking of finally trying my hand at cooking, which was something I was never really interested in. However, since my mom's recipe cards are yellowing in proportion to my age, I should try them out before they fade into oblivion. After all, one of my mom's biggest frustrations is that her daughters never took after her passion for cooking. I figured that mine was a dormant passion (since I love food and cooking shows); it just needed to wake up. Now might be the time to see if I have what it takes.

5) Be a better steward of my finances. While I wouldn't consider myself a shopaholic (if not for the fact that my sister and I can borrow each other's clothes and shoes, I'd probably be repeating the same outfits every few weeks), I love my gadgets. I usually save up for one big purchase per year (last year's was my new Canon DSLR; planning to finish paying for it within the next two months). This time, I hope that I can forgo my love of gadgetry for things I should already be investing in.

6) Read more. We have new shelf space at home, and I'm planning to fill it with more books. I don't have a set number of books that I foresee myself finishing within the year, but I'm hoping to discover new authors, new writing styles, new genres.

7) In relation to No. 6, finish the Bible (which I say year in and year out). This time, I'm really praying that the Lord helps me see this through.

8) Lessen the negativity. I'm an optimistic, cheery person by nature, but one of my weaknesses is that I get impatient easily. When that happens, I have a tendency to complain. I want to get rid of these bad habits and focus on the big picture. When I have nothing nice to say, better keep quiet. I don't want others to be affected by my mood, my thoughts, my words.

Now that these plans have been listed for the world to see, I wonder what I'll be able to tick off by the end of 2012.

But I do hope that by next year, plans fulfilled or not, I'll be able to say that I made my 2012 a meaningful year. Not just for me, but for the people around me.

Let's do it, 2012!

What Was, What Will Be

2011-12-31T07:39:00.014+08:00

Some years are "epic" (hate that this word is overused, but I couldn't think of a more apt one), filled with so many memories, that whenever you're asked to think of milestone years, they jump at you instantly. In my case, I know what those years are. Most recently, that would have to be my 2008. That was the year I joined a local and an international advertising competition, by God's grace performed well, and got to meet friends from so many places. The same year, my last living grandparent died. You could say that my year started on a high note and ended on a rather somber one.

Some years are also dismal, filled with so many depressing memories and moments of self-loathing. I know of friends and family who've experienced such years; they're the first to welcome the new year with a tinge of hopefulness mixed with a sense of resignation. Thankfully, I never went through an entire year of stress, sadness, and depression. (And I pray that if I ever do, that I'll have the courage and faith to see it through.)

Then there are those years. Years that just coast along life's shore. These are the years you don't describe as "epic" for they don't jump out at you from your database of memories. They're just there, waiting for you to give meaning to them; waiting for you to see how they could connect to future memories or experiences.

My 2011 is one of those years. It was, for lack of a better term, a "steady" one. It had its highs and it had its lows. It had breakthroughs and a few downfalls. But overall, it was a good year; I praise the Lord for that.

It was a year of weddings...

Endless shoots...

Foreign posts to Bangkok...

Adventures in biking...

Wonder and discovery...

Beauty...

Good times with officemates...

Fun...

Football mania...

Friendship...

Photography milestones...

Family coming home...

Discovering my roots...

Blessings for the family...

...and LOVE in all kinds of ways.

There were national-level tragedies (the most recent one being Typhoon Sendong), an Internet or celebrity scandal here and there, moments of self-doubt, times spent commiserating with those who've experienced loss and depression, self-pity parties, but overall, I would like to think that I was blessed this year.

2011 gave me more insight, more perspective, more character, more growth in the workplace, a deeper understanding of who I am in Christ, more love for this country, and more gratitude as an individual.

I am thankful for all that was, all that is, and all that will be. I'm excited to see what the Lord has in store for my country, my church, my family, my friends, my work, and my life in the coming year.

I pray that as we usher in 2012, we embrace it with open arms — not hesitant fists — and let it take us to new places, new adventures, new discoveries, and a greater sense of purpose.

A Blessed New Year to you, dear reader.

I am sure that the best is yet to come. Get ready for it!

It Gets Better

2011-11-22T11:05:00.023+08:00

Once upon a time, I was a quiet, naïve, shy, and nice little schoolgirl. When I say nice, it's not because I was angel. It's because, back then, I didn't know how to say no. I was a people-pleaser and went out of my way to do things for people, even at the expense of my own grades.

In the third grade, I remember clearly that there was a particular Science project wherein I did everything. And it was supposed to be a group project. My mom was so mad because I stayed up the night before assembling pages upon pages of reports, cutting out photos from magazines, researching, etc. And when the teacher returned the work, giving us a not-so-high grade, a groupmate of mine complained. I remember coming home crying, feeling as if I was outnumbered and abused. My mom went to the teacher the next day to tell her that I did all the work and the teacher gave me extra points; my groupmates retained that not-so-stellar grade.

It was the same in high school and college. Though I became more vocal through the years, I still assumed the responsibility of others. I used to think that I'd rather do all the work than see my grades suffer on account of my irresponsible classmates. Unfortunately, I couldn't bring myself to talk to them about it and to exclude their names from those projects I worked on. Thus, they enjoyed the fruits of my labor: usually those meant pretty high grades.

I also experienced being "stepped on" in other ways. Friends would make plans with other friends, forgetting to invite me. When I'd ask them why I wasn't invited, they would tell me, "You're not close to these people anyway."

It was very easy to make fun of me — my froggy voice that would slowly climb to 177,906 decibels whenever I'd get nervous, the awkward jock swag I used to have (since I was a competitive swimmer) — in my presence. I would laugh on the outside, but inside, I'd be depressed. Later on, when I had the opportunity to do so, I'd talk to these friends of mine about how I felt; they never realized that they hurt me the way they did. They were sincerely sorry and things went swimmingly after that.

After some time, I came to realize what this all meant. At the time, however, I had no idea what was happening. Like a little martyr, I just accepted that this was my life. I was too nice, too defenseless, even though I was taller and stronger than most of my peers.

I may not have been pushed around physically. My head may not have been dunked inside a toilet bowl. I wasn't given any derogatory nickname. I was sad, yes, but I may not have reached the point of wanting to slash myself or run away.

However, I can genuinely say that I experienced this: I did experience some form of bullying.

Why am I writing about this, you may wonder?

It's because I read about the recent death of ten-year-old Ashlynn Conner.

She was once a bubbly, bright-eyed little girl. Then she was verbally assaulted day after day by her classmates who said she was "too fat" and that she was a "sl*t". Her mom went to the teachers and the teachers told Ashlynn to stop tattling (according to other news articles).

One day, Ashlynn asked her mom if she could be home-schooled. Mom said no. I imagine that it might have been one of those casual "no's", like the response you would give a kid after asking if he could have candy before dinner.

But in a matter of hours, Ashlynn was found inside her closet. She had killed herself.

My heart goes out to poor Ashlynn and to her parents. At ten, she should have so much more to look forward to: high school, prom, her first boyfriend, college, her first job, marriage, family life. But she will never experience any of these. Her parents won't have the privilege of watching her grow up.

Bullying is one of those gray area issues because, on the outside, it seems trivial. It's easy to dismiss a child who comes home crying because someone drew on the back of her dress. "It's part of life," some might say. "You have to learn how to stand up for yourself."

On the one hand, I agree with such statements. Yes, once you get over being the victim of a bully, life suddenly opens up for you. You can walk down the halls of your school without fear of being physically abused. You can be part of spelling bees or Math contests without fear of being stereotyped a nerd. You can talk to just about anyone without fear of being ridiculed.

Some kids are lucky to have overcome the wrath of bullies.

Many, though, aren't as lucky.

These kids come home crying, wish they'd never been born, wish they were richer, wish they weren't from a rich family, wish they were prettier/more handsome, wish they weren't the brother/sister of the most popular/smartest kid in school.

Yet what they don't realize while all this is happening is oftentimes, their bullies also have insecurities. Bullies just don't know what to do with these emotions and opt to channel them differently: by preying on those they feel are weaker and unlikely to fight back.

In a perfect world, I'd talk to each and every victim and tell them that it's gonna be okay. That it'll hurt now, but that sooner or later, everyone will be forced to grow up.

That these bullies aren't worth their tears.

At the end of the day, all I want is for bullies to just stop. I know this is farfetched; I might not see this (i.e. a global anti-bullying law) in my lifetime, even. But what I do know is that there is not a single human being who deserves to be mistreated.

And I want kids like Ashlynn to feel that they aren't worthless; it may hurt now, but there is a future for them.

And this future is so, so bright.

Take it from me. I used to be a shy girl who said "yes" to everything and everyone. I used to cry because I was so different from everyone else.

But I've grown to become more independent, unique, and with a sense of purpose and direction. I may still be different from the norm (read: yes, I'm weird) but I like being me.

And those who used to intimidate me? Well, we're now friends on Facebook. Those whose projects and assignments I used to do? We're pretty good friends nowadays.

Rest in peace, Ashlynn. And may the Lord give comfort and strength to the Conner family in their time of sorrow.

Weathering the Rainy Day

2011-11-15T09:36:00.017+08:00

As my alarm took me from Dreamland to Reality this morning, one of the first songs that entered my head was Bruno Mars' The Lazy Song. I kid you not. Especially when my brain registered the sound of rainfall dancing on the window panes.

How apt are these lyrics? Seriously.

"Today I don't feel like doing anything,
I just wanna lay in my bed."

And towards the bridge, it goes:

"No I ain’t gonna comb my hair
'Cause I ain’t going anywhere
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no..."

I tell you, this song addresses the likes of me: those who are experts at bumming but can't be professionals 24/7 since they actually have day jobs. It's brilliant! (Insert half-hearted attempt at sarcasm.)

See, as much as I love going out on bike rides, hitting the malls, trying out new restaurants, and meeting up with friends or hanging out with my family, sometimes, I just enjoy being a total couch potato. I'm so good at it, in fact, that I can spend hours in the same position (i.e. back against the headboard). The only thing that would change over time would be what I'm doing (i.e. first hour, read; second hour, watch TV; third hour: go online via my iPhone; fourth hour: go back to my book).

Honestly, if things went my way (i.e. work for 10 hours a day for four days and have three-day weekends), I would be in bed right now and not in front of a computer.

View from my office window. Le sigh.

But for those who do have the privilege of enjoying this rainy, cloudy day, let me share with you why bumming at home rocks:

1) No one cares how you look. Your family will forgive you if your hair's all over the place and/or oily; they've seen you at your worst. If you decide to wear your PJ's all day, that's fine, too. Your MACs and Bobbi Browns can take a break, too.

2) You won't have to spend a single centavo. Whenever you go out, even if it's just to "cool off" at the mall or go on a bike ride, you will be shelling out some dough. Temptations such as a Quarter Pounder or even something as cheap as a bottle of Gatorade will call out your name. Trust me. Meanwhile, at home, you can just reheat the leftovers from last night's dinner and, voila, there's your lunch. Don't forget the fact that you can enjoy the latest movies at home (weekends are there for you to hoard DVDs in advance) and keep yourself updated when it comes to TV shows (if you're an Internet junkie, you'll know how that works). Plus, all your books will be vying for your attention.

3) You create your own schedule. Unless you called your secretary to say that you're available to work from home (meaning, you're at your officemates' beck and call), you're pretty much your own boss for the day. If you want to wake up at 11 am and take another nap at 1 pm, that's totally fine. No one will be calling you up every half hour to ask for an update on that project you need to submit. There won't be any email invites flooding your inboxes to invite you to so-and-so meeting. Heck, if you decide to stare off into space for a full hour, that's totally up to you.

4) You allow yourself to get to know... yourself. Sometimes, it's during these quiet, solitary, lazy moments that I allow myself to think. I obviously can't while I'm at work. I enjoy the peacefulness that being alone at home brings. I say bursts of prayers every now and then, I think about Life in General whenever the thought hits me, and I even make plans for the future. I think about vacations that I've yet to take, I reflect on the relationships I have with people. Heck, you can even talk to yourself when you want to (monologue preferred; if you dialogue with yourself, I'm not too sure about that). Where else can you do all these but at home? Not even the serenity of coffee shops can give you this much freedom to think this way.

5) It's just nice to stop and smell the roses. I like being busy since I've always been an active person. I thrive on last-minute deadlines; in fact, I work better and more efficiently if I only have a day or two to do a project. I also enjoy keeping an active lifestyle (i.e. biking, exercising, meeting up with my different sets of friends, etc.). But I know that I reach certain breaking points at times. And whenever this happens, I need to "thaw". This means allowing my body to calm down and get back on track. I appreciate days when I can be lazy and rest because I allow myself to get recharged. I know, then, that I'll be able to give more of myself the next time around.

So, if you're stuck at home because of the weather, don't fret. Savor lazy days like these for they don't happen all too often.

Enjoy!

Going Back to my Roots

2011-11-11T09:50:00.017+08:00

I'd always joked in the past that I was a frustrated Amazing Race contestant. If I had the stamina for it, I would've signed up a long time ago. Alas, my body's immune system (or lack, thereof), coupled with the fact that my asthma slows me down, will forever discourage me from doing so. 'Til the Lord allows someone to discover a cure for asthma, I'll have to resort to watching others compete in the show and live vicariously through their experiences.

However, for 24 hours or so, I got a glimpse of how it was to be a contestant on the show what with the whirlwind pace and flurry of activities that I was about to experience from November 7 to November 8, 2011.

My relatives on my mom's side (at least those who've been living in the United States and Canada) all flew in over the course of the last few weeks in time for what would have been my grandfather's 100th birthday. Once upon a time, Godofredo P. Ramos was the governor of the province of Aklan. Today, he is widely regarded as the Father of Aklan after having given the province its own identity and independence from its neighboring province, Capiz.

With that, the whole clan was invited to fly to Kalibo, Aklan's capital, for a major celebration on the 8th of November.

A day earlier, however, my mom, brother, my aunt Grace and I flew to the world famous Boracay for a bit of fun under the sun. My brother, Chuck, had never been to Boracay (it's ironic, I know, given our roots, that our family doesn't get to travel to Boracay/Aklan as much as we should) so we decided to give him a taste of the Boracay experience. Even for just a few hours.

Naturally, he had a blast.

Boracay's airport has officially been named after my grandfather. Pretty cool, I have to say.

My aunt, Grace Ramos Zorrilla, and my mom, Sonia Ramos Araneta. Proud daughters of the late Godofredo P. Ramos.

Hello again, gorgeous view!

Nope, I don't think I'll ever tire of seeing this.

With my brother, Chuck. Our two other siblings couldn't join us because one couldn't take off from work and the other had things to do for school.

Walking on water.

Rain clouds looming over the horizon.

Behind the shoreline and the hotels/resorts surrounding it is a row of shops and restaurants. It's impossible to be bored in Boracay.

Not much of a sunset since the clouds covered the sun, but it still gave me a dramatic shot.

The following day, the four of us found ourselves in Kalibo, which is a little under two hours away from Boracay. We then joined our other relatives who had arrived in Kalibo a day earlier.

The morning started with a mass at the cathedral. It was a "full house"!

My mom (second from the right) and some of her sisters.

A procession followed afterwards. Students from all the schools where my grandfather studied participated in this event. There were also teachers from the different schools, different local government units, as well as the military and police force.

Camera shy!

Some cars carried this commemorative plate. I thought that was a nice touch.

One of the highlights of the day was the unveiling of the statue in memory of my grandfather.

Thank you, Aklan!

A 21-gun salute in his honor.

After several wreath laying ceremonies and speeches, we were invited to the governor's house for lunch. I have no experience with politics (read: I had to smile, make small talk, shake hands and greet practically everyone in sight), so this was a first for my relatively introverted self.

No classic Filipino celebratory lunch is complete without some lechon (crispy suckling pig).

Before we knew it, it was time to board the plane and go home.

Yep, just a little over 24 hours after landing in Boracay.

It was great to see how warm and extremely hospitable the Aklanons were. They really went out of their way to look out for us, to make sure that we had rides to and from all the places we needed to go to, to make sure that we got to the airport on time, etc. There was so much food to go around and I met so many relatives. Most of whom I never knew existed.

Growing up, I never really had the privilege of getting to know my mom's side of the family in Aklan. At least I now feel so much more connected to this wonderful province.

And it had to take my grandfather's 100th birthday celebration for this to happen. Better late than never, as the saying goes.

Thank you, Aklan, for the wonderful celebration and for honoring Godofredo P. Ramos the way you did. I am 100% sure that he is smiling down on every Aklanon right now.

'Til the next adventure!

Free Verse: Margie

2011-11-03T15:40:00.012+08:00

Last November 1 was All Saints' Day and as is tradition, we remembered our loved ones who had moved on from this life to Life Thereafter.

I wrote this in memory of my grandmother. Sometimes, I think about her last few years and how she lived them.

I hope she was happy. I hope that I continue to make her proud.

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

She opens her eyes.

She is exquisite, the fabric of her gown flowing with her every move.
Her long, curly hair pinned elegantly on top of her head.
On her ears are dangling pearl earrings. Around her neck is a single strand of pearls.
Her every step down a grand spiral staircase exudes grace.
She is radiant as she smiles.

But her eyes are focused. They look downward into a single figure.

There he stands. Her Knight. Her Prince Charming.
Dashing and debonaire in his favorite suit.

He extends a hand to welcome hers.

Their hands meet as she reaches him. Deftly and swiftly, he twirls her around and holds a pose.

She laughs gaily, reveling in the moment.
He returns the smile and twirls her around once more.

Suddenly, the hallway is filled with wonderful sound. Their favorite music.

His feet start to shuffle. Hers following his.
They waltz right along to the beat of the music, but they no longer hear its percussion or brass.

Their eyes are locked into each other's, not one willing to drop his or her gaze.

He tilts his head back proudly and she laughs at the gesture.
He is not one to feign machismo for, to her, he is machismo.

She opens her eyes.

She is in a small room.

She wears a loose floral dress.
She wears no jewelry; they have already become too cumbersome.
Her frail frame droops against a wooden rocking chair.
Her feet do not shuffle when she wants them to.
Her hands are stiff, devoid of the grace needed to do the waltz.
She can't even bring herself to hum their favorite music.

Her attention is caught. She looks around.
She sees people who call out her name.

"Mom?"
"Lola?"

They seem to know her. But who are they?

"Mom?"
"Lola?"

She looks around wildly. There is too much noise.
What happened to the soothing percussion and brass beats?

She stares at them, trying to recognize their faces.

But she can't. She is looking for that particular gaze.

Where is he, she wonders?
Where is my Knight? My Prince Charming?

She closes her eyes shut, willing to shield herself from the sound of the voices whose gazes she does not seek.

She keeps her eyes shut for as long as she can, against the background drone of unfamiliarity, hoping that when she opens them, she can go back to what she loved.

What was familiar.

What she could actually remember.

Of Glugging and Stories

2011-10-27T16:12:00.006+08:00

Glug-glug-glug.

In the office pantry, I refilled my glass of water and downed it in under five seconds.

Then I heard someone say, "Ang bilis naman!" (That's so fast!)

This wasn't the first time someone commented on either: a) the loud sound my throat makes me whenever I drink water; or, b) the speed at which I drink water.

And I smiled, not bothering to offer an explanation.

But the truth is, I don't know how not to drink water fast/silently. And it's all because of the chocolate milk I used to drink as a kid.

Yes, chocolate milk.

Every night, we would play a game. In an attempt to make drinking milk (whether fresh milk or chocolate milk; I preferred chocolate) fun and exciting for my siblings and me, my mom would make us race. This may not have been the best idea (in a "Kids, Don't Try This at Home" sort of way), but it worked for us.

"On the count of 3, go! 1... 2... 3!"

We would then grab our glasses of milk on the table and chug them down to the last molecule, as fast as our little esophaguses (esophagi?) would allow.

"Finished!" the proud winner of the night would say. And he/she would have bragging rights for 24 hours.

But really, beyond being proclaimed the winner, we were more excited about what would happen next: story time. And here, my siblings and I were equals. We would take turns picking which story would be read to us.

I would join in when it came to choosing a book and listening to the story being read, even if I could already read by then. I still liked being read to; I would imagine myself as the heroine rescuing a cat stuck up a tree, or as someone's twin sister, or as a citizen of Bear Country. Soon, the drone of the reader's voice — usually Mom's, sometimes Dad's — would send me off to Slumberland within minutes.

Glug-glug-glug.

As I downed yet another refill of water from our office pantry, I smiled at the thought of this particular memory.

I can't drink water any other way.

Foodstagram

2011-10-25T18:14:00.032+08:00

I am, by no means, a food connoisseur. In fact, I would dissuade you from getting my opinion on certain dishes because I personally feel that there are so many restaurants, cuisines, and dishes that I've yet to experience. My taste ~~pallet~~ palate (thanks, anonymous commenter, for pointing out what my eyes missed), while it has expanded by leaps and bounds through the years (my teenage self considered gourmet burgers as fine dining), still has a long way to go.

However, I am a serious fan of food. Part of the reason I look forward to weekends is because I get to experiment with new restaurants and dishes with friends and family.

Plus, most of my photos (from various lunches, dinners, and food trips with different sets of people) happen to be of food. I don't know what that says about me.

Here are some of the dishes I've enjoyed shooting (and eating, of course). All have been captured just these last few months with my trusty iPhone via Instagram and other similar photography apps. I could do better (and actually use my DSLR more), but my iPhone's with me 24/7; my DSLR requires a lot of effort to lug around.

APPETIZERS/HORS D'OEUVRES

Cold cuts and cheese platter at Terry's

Tapas and various appetizers at Casa Armas

Rockefeller Oysters at Via Mare

Fusion sashimi at Omakase

Spinach-artichoke dip at Italianni's

SOUPS

Bulalo at Leslie's, Tagaytay

Tom Yum Goong at SOMS Noodle House

Super Chasyu Ramen at Ramen Bar

PASTAS

Penne al Telefono at Cibo

Ravioli di Spinaci at La Grotta

Creamy chorizo pasta at 1521, Burgos Circle

Baked lasagna at Mom & Tina's

MEAT DISHES

Steak platter at Uncle Cheffy's

Customized burger at The Burger Project, Maginhawa St.

Fried chicken at Chicken Bon Chon

Chicken Hainanese at MD Lim, Binondo

DESSERT

Mango and sticky rice at Bangkok, Thailand

Cupcakes at Sonja's Cupcakes

MISCELLANEOUS

Hot chocolate and choco biscuit at New World Hotel

Panizza at Uncle Cheffy's

Croque Madame at Dome Café

Golfer's Breakfast at the Baguio Country Club

Four-cheese crêpe at Caffeccino by Dome

Paella Valenciana at Taberna Barcelona Tapas y Vino

You can guess, from this post, that I am a huge fan of the following: 1) cheese; 2) pasta; 3) more cheese; 4) Spanish food; 5) even more cheese.

I am also a huge fan of Japanese and Thai food. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to take just as many pictures of the dishes I ordered from the other Japanese and Thai restaurants I got to visit recently.

I hope to taste (and take even more pictures of) other dishes from restaurants I've yet to visit.

Now I've just made myself hungry.

In Pursuit Of

2011-10-06T11:26:00.015+08:00

The first computer I ever touched was an Apple computer. Back when WordPerfect was the word processor of choice; when Carmen Sandiego was my favorite thing to play; when you could only save files on floppy disks; when using a mouse felt like a foreign concept (what is that arrow doing and why is it following me?). It was my aunt's and she lived next door to me at the time.

Photo from vectronicsappleworld.com.

I was around 10 years old then and with that computer, I spent hours writing poetry, short stories, and novelettes. I dreamed that someday, I would be a writer.

Little did I know that, years later, I would actually become a writer. Not the kind of writer I envisioned I would be as a child; no, my name isn't on the cover of any bestseller at the moment. But I am a writer nonetheless.

Today, the scripts I churn out, the ideas that my brain concretizes, the copy I produce for digital and print ads — all of these have come to life because of Apple products: the iMac I use at work, plus my own MacBook.

I've also been blessed to have owned other Apple products along the way: the first Mac I've owned was a hand-me-down iBook G3; my first-ever major purchase with my own salary was the first-generation iPod Nano; since then, I've given iPods to my parents and siblings, bought myself a MacBook, an iPod Touch, and several generations of iPhones; our family's desktop computer is now a Mac Mini.

With my first generation iPod Touch + my iPhone.

But I'll always be thankful for how Apple, as a computer pioneer, somehow made me what I am today.

“Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do."
- Steve Jobs, 2005

I loved seeing my thoughts come to life on a computer screen when I was a child.

Until now, I get that same thrill.

Today, the world mourns the loss of Steve Jobs in more ways than one. We've said goodbye to someone who changed the face of technology. Someone who humanized products that would otherwise be seen as intimidating, untouchable. He invaded our offices, homes, and personal space with gadgets that made life so much more accessible and convenient.

By the way, he made sure that they looked pretty darn sleek and stylish.

Though he is no longer with us, his legacy as a visionary, as a great thinker, as someone who pursued what he loved to do, will live with us always.

Just as you pursued your dreams, you've inspired me to keep going after mine.

Thank you, Steve Jobs.

We will miss you.

P.S. This entry was proudly written with an iMac.

"May The Fourth Be With You"

2011-09-25T19:50:00.000+08:00

The last few years my beloved Alma Mater's been in the finals for basketball, I've usually managed to come up with a slogan/design in time to have them printed as shirts or banners.

This year's version (since we're gunning for a four-peat) was highly inspired by Star Wars, and it was my brother, Chuck, who actually suggested the line.

Vector work, coloring, and layout done by yours truly.

Original design, which was eventually turned into T-shirts.

My siblings and I (me on the left) wearing them during the first game of the finals. Hopefully the journey ends on game 2.

One Big Fight!

Brains, Beauty, Principles

2011-09-13T12:18:00.017+08:00

"Brains and beauty".

This statement is the one cliché that people often use to define what a woman should be.

But today, in this age of female empowerment, I believe that women can and should be more than just beauty and brains.

For one thing, I admire a woman who is principled. She walks her talk. She sticks to her convictions even if everyone else disagrees with her.

It is for this reason that I can't help but admire Ms. Shamcey Supsup, the Philippines' bet for Miss Universe 2011.

We already know that she's a beauty. She has gorgeous tanned skin, flawless pearly whites, and eyes that smile.

We also know that she has the brains. Not only did she graduate magna cum laude from the University of the Philippines, she also topped the Architecture Licensure Examination in July 2010.

But what she proved to us all in the Q&A portion of this year's Miss Universe was that she was also a strong, principled woman.

In every elimination round, Shamcey Supsup made it. Out of all the candidates, she was one of the fortunate few to be shortlisted to the Top 16.

The whole country cheered when, once again, she made it to the Top 10. Then the Top 5, just like our rep last year, Venus Raj.

Then came the dreaded Q&A portion. The one that makes or breaks the contestants.

Shamcey Supsup was the second one to answer. Vivica Fox then asked her if she would ever change religion to marry the man she loves.

This was Shamcey's reply:

"If I had to change my religious beliefs, I would not marry the person that I love because the first person that I love is God who created me and I have my faith and my principles and this is what makes me who I am. And if that person loves me, he should love my God too."

This was a very bold answer, in a setting that would demand political (and universal?) correctness. I can imagine others being shocked at her lack of leniency or flexibility. "You wouldn't even reach a compromise or meet that person halfway?", some may wonder.

But whether or not you agree with her, whether or not you're of the same faith as she, you can't help but respect and possibly even admire her.

She stood up for her beliefs. In a span of 30 seconds, which is the time allotted for each contestant, she chose to remain principled and say what was truly in her heart.

Despite possible opposition.

Despite the fact that her answer may have cost her the Crown.

Shamcey Supsup didn't win the title this year. She didn't even place second when a lot of people thought she had a good chance of winning or at least being the runner-up.

She ended the competition as the third runner-up, much to my surprise.

But ultimately, what mattered was how she stood her ground and inspired so many people with her answer. My Twitter feed was filled with praises for Ms. Supsup. I even saw tweets from other countries commending her for not only answering well, but for being a principled woman.

Thank you, Ms. Shamcey Supsup, for emboldening the woman of today; for reminding her that there's more to being a woman than beauty or brains. That being a woman of faith, of conviction, is what will set her apart.

I'm also sure that you made God smile with your answer. You definitely made me grin from ear to ear.

Mabuhay ang Filipina!

No Fear

2011-09-12T10:29:00.006+08:00

Like it or not, you’re afraid of something. We all are. Even the most confident, self-assured person (at least outwardly) shudders at the thought of at least one thing.

There are differences, of course; things to consider when it comes to fears that people may have: the person’s age, social status, civil status, job/career, successes or failures, health, upbringing, faith. What he/she considers his/her biggest fear could be completely trivial in someone else’s eyes. Sometimes, these fears are excusable, rational ones. Others may be circumstantial. More often than not, most of them may be speculative fears.

The biggest difference, I think, would be how one deals with his/her fears.

Many people choose to ignore their fears, to bury them somewhere in the deepest recesses of their subconscious. This might work for a while, but when something monumental or tragic happens, chances are, those fears will resurface. They may even pick at your emotional battle scars and leave you with fresh wounds.

Others prefer to keep them as worries, creating a chain reaction of even more fears, doubts, insecurities and what-if’s. Some have even gotten so good at worrying that nothing else but those fears consume their minds. Feeling under the weather? Most likely I’m sick. I have a terminal illness. Do I have enough money should I need chemotherapy? Oh no, what will my family do when I’m gone? And they haven’t even been diagnosed yet.

Some may leave everything to chance, not bothering to even care about the repercussions or consequences of their actions or circumstances. These are the people who abide by the “Carpe Diem” mentality. They live by the moment, reveling only in the present, seemingly unaffected by their past and completely detached from their future. To a certain extent, I admire these people. I wish I had enough of their carefree zest to get me from one day to the next. But at the same time, too much of anything is harmful, as they say. To live completely without fear, under the guise of spontaneity or even irresponsibility, doesn’t exactly set you free. At some point, these actions (or inactions, if you can call them that) will bite you in the butt and you will have to deal with them. Hopefully when it’s not too late to do so.

What I hope to be, though, is someone who remains realistic about her fears but doesn’t let them consume her. At the end of the day, I realize that there’s only so much we, as finite, flawed beings, can control.

I worry about a good number of things, to be perfectly honest. Sure I come off as a happy-go-lucky person. And usually, I try to stay that way. I don’t like having a drama-filled life. I hate conflicts and most of all, I really don’t enjoy worrying.

But I do have such fears.

I worry about the future — if I’ll have enough money to get my own place someday and sustain myself (as well as my passions in life, i.e. photography and biking); whether I’ll have a family someday; if I’ll be in advertising for the next 15 years or do something else; what will happen to my parents and siblings in the next few years; yada-yada, blah-di-blah. These are obviously things I can’t answer, albeit legitimate worries.

Ultimately, though, I’d rather let God take the driver’s seat when it comes to every worry I have. Because I can rest in the back seat knowing that He’s got everything under control.

“[T]ake captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:5).

Have a worry- and stress-free week, all!

Impatience is my Virtue

2011-09-01T09:44:00.011+08:00

It's not like it happened overnight. Or in an instant. It was something that took place over the course of many years, which was confirmed to me two days ago.

In the afternoon, my sister and mom were baking cupcakes. If I haven't mentioned enough how I generally try to stay away from the kitchen — well, I'll say it again. The kitchen and I aren't exactly friends.

Unlike my mom who could bake apple pies by the time she was 12, my culinary skills are limited to heating canned goods and leftovers. I like watching cooking shows (some of my favorite reality shows are the Masterchef franchise, Hell's Kitchen, and Iron Chef) but I never really bother to try any of their recipes.

So I watched as my mom whisked and my sister molded. Two hours later, the first batch of cupcakes were starting to rise in the oven. That was when I came over and helped. I put the finishing touches on the two cupcake flavors they came up with: vanilla with chocolate ganache frosting and Red Velvet. Then I plated them and arranged the plates for display purposes.

That was the moment when I re-realized what I've long known about myself:

I am an impatient person.

I'd always wondered why I never really took an interest in cooking or baking, but I thoroughly enjoy plating or styling. I realized that it was because the baking/cooking process takes time and patience. When you plate, though, you're practically at the finish line. All that's left for you to do is enjoy the meal.

Same "principle", if you will, applies to drawing or painting by hand (as opposed to drawing digitally, which is relatively easier and less time consuming), sewing or crafts, etc. When it's taking me a lifetime to finish or when I make a mistake, I'll either start again from scratch or just quit while I'm at it.

This is also why I get annoyed when I'm asked the same thing more than once (didn't I answer you the first time around?) or when I'm asked to repeat what I said (didn't you hear me the first time?). How awful of me, I know.

Or why I get frustrated with myself when I don't get things right. When I have to revise over and over. In such cases, it's a hundred times worse because while I can be really impatient, I'm also a perfectionist.

Go figure.

"Patience is a virtue," they say. One that I haven't exactly mastered, apparently. Because why put aside money when I already have enough to buy, say, that lens I've been praying for, for a while now?

Yet the Lord's also been teaching me how to wait on Him — from the trivial things (i.e. Lord, please help me find the right word to use in this script) to the monumental (i.e. life decisions).

Thus, He encouraged me today with this verse: "And let us not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we shall reap if we do not grow weary" (Galatians 6:9).

I'm just so blessed to know that God never gives up on me; that His patience towards me knows no bounds.

And I pray that as I grow in His grace, that I will also learn the value and virtue of patience.

Coming Home to the Filipino Language

2011-08-26T20:26:00.012+08:00

A Response to "Language, Learning, Identity, Privilege" by James Soriano
(Those who haven't read the article yet can find it here.)

English was my first language. My childhood wasn't filled with memories of Batibot, Shaider, Voltes V or other Filipino-adapted cartoons. Instead, I was a Rainbow Brite, Carebears and Peanuts kid. I spoke with an accent (heavily influenced by the likes of Lucy Van Pelt) and didn't understand the "isa, dalawa, tatlo" of Pong Pagong.

My parents were of the mindset that we would learn and embrace the Filipino language at some point, so they wanted me (and my siblings) to learn English first. And that was how it went. I was a full-fledged English speaker until the first grade, when Filipino finally became a subject at school. Eventually, Filipino started entering my consciousness — slowly at first, but through time, it became a vital part of who I was.

The way I choose to use "Bwisit!" when I'm aggravated, because a simple "Darn it" won't do it justice.

Or the way "Salamat" rolls off my tongue not only to connote the act of thanksgiving, but to coat it with a feeling of indebtedness.

Or the way I feel horrible when I hear that someone's "nagtatampo" with me because I did or said something I shouldn't have. It is not so much that he or she is holding a grudge against me or is disappointed with me. It's the feeling that I really let down that person, the gravity of which can only be determined contextually.

Or the moments where "pagmemeron" or “pagtatahak ng landas” holds much more weight than "being" or “finding one’s direction” in a philosophical context. Just ask any of the Philosophy professors who choose to teach the subject in Filipino rather than in English.

Or the way I can't help but marvel at the almost onomatopoeic tonality that so many Filipino words have: the poetry of "maginhawa", "mahalimuyak", "kumukutikutitap" vis-a-vis the imagery that "mapanghi" or "madusing" or "karumal-dumal" presents.

While my Filipino has improved significantly through the years, I am, by no means, a makata. And as a copywriter, I envy those who can express themselves fluently both in Filipino and in English. I admire my writing mentors back when I was still a student and when I was new in the advertising business; their command of both languages challenged me to better myself as a writer. Really, I welcome the day when I can come up with scripts or body copy without sounding contrived or too academic.

I know with all my heart that being able to express oneself not only in English, but in the mother tongue, would ground him or her. It would allow that person to encapsulate what being Filipino is all about.

In fact, I am frustrated because I had to resort to writing this in English.

Ngunit ako'y may pagkukulang sa wikang Filipino. Aaminin ko talaga. Gustuhin ko man nang buong-buo o hindi, hindi sapat ang kakayahan ko para maibahagi ang gusto kong iparating. Marahil ay may mawawala kung susubukan kong managalog nang tuluy-tuloy. Pero balang araw, sana'y magkaroon ako ng lakas ng loob na magsulat sa aking wika.

Dahil, kung tutuusin, iba talaga ang dating ng wikang Filipino. 'Di maikukumpara.

I can’t imagine Parisians not being able to engage in discourses in French. Or Japanese not conducting business in Nihongo. Or the Spanish not cheering for their football teams in Castillan. Because their language is crucial to who they are as a people, as a society.

While a number of us are privileged to be able to speak and think in the global language, I believe that we should embrace our own, love it, and be proud of it.

After all, it is what makes us us.

English may bring you to different places, but Filipino will always welcome you Home.

I Love Apple

2011-08-25T10:07:00.013+08:00

I'm no computer whiz, so I can't convince non-Apple users why I love Apple.

But really, I love Apple.

I love how the brand revolutionized technology on so many levels. Apple products may not have always been the first in every category, but not being first never mattered to them. It was their ease of use and line of products that changed the digital landscape for the better. Plus, I am a fan of their use of design. When you think of sophistication, clean lines, elegance, you're talking about Apple.

The first Mac I ever touched was the computer of my aunt back in the early 90's. When their logo was still the striped multi-colored apple. When the text on the monitor was green. When the mouse felt like a foreign concept and holding it was simply awkward.

Fast forward to today. I cannot imagine life without any of my Apple gear. I work using an iMac, I'm online, drawing or editing photos at home with my MacBook. I play games, surf the web, use Twitter and Facebook with my iPhone and very-much-alive first generation iPod Touch. I jog with my iPod Shuffle. On occasion, I borrow my brother's iPad. And, like most other Mac geeks, I would always wait in geeky excitement every time Steve Jobs would give a presentation on a new product, a new OS or anything new in general.

All our computers at home are Mac products: a Mac Mini, three MacBooks, a slow-but-still-functioning iBook. Through the years, we've owned several generations of iPods. The very first Nano I bought with my own money is what my brother uses in his car. The U2 iPod that I gave my parents for their 25th anniversary is now permanently attached to the dock in our living room for when we have guests to entertain. All of us (parents included) have our own iPods.

So today was a sad morning because I learned that Steve Jobs resigned as CEO of Apple.

Yes, he'll still be around as Chairman, but it won't be the same. In many ways, he was The Man responsible for so many of the exciting things that Apple had to offer through the years, whether product or operating system. Even when we learned that he had cancer years ago, I always had a feeling that he'd bounce back, that we'd see him at another Keynote presentation.

I do wish him well, especially when it comes to his health. And I hope for the continued success of Apple with its new CEO, Tim Cook. He has big shoes to fill, but if Steve Jobs believed that he could take over, then we all should, too.

Thank you for revolutionizing technology and gadgetry as we know it, Steve Jobs.

In Six Months

2011-08-24T15:12:00.008+08:00

It just hit me.

In exactly six months from today, it will be my birthday once again.

Not only am I turning another year older. I will be moving to another decade of existence.

I shudder at the thought.

I was always older than most of my friends. One of the oldest in my high school batch. The oldest in my two immediate circles of friends from high school. The oldest in my college class and, by default, the oldest in my college group of friends.

I was always one of the first to do everything: become a teenager, have a sweet 16 party, legally become an adult, etc.

But in most ways, I don't feel like I'm any older than most people.

Personality-wise, I will always, always be a child at heart. While I have a tendency to look at things from an almost sarcastic point of view, generally, the glass won't just be half-full on my end; it will be full. I tend to go about life in a carefree, things-are-fine-and-dandy-and-let's-get-along-and-just-laugh-things-off sort of way.

But while I've achieved a number of things in my [relatively] short time here on earth, there are a number of things that still I haven't done yet. At least by the world's standards.

Buy my own car.

Move out.

Get married.

Have kids.

Go on a solo "Eat, Pray, Love"-type sojourn.

Or do most of the things on the clichéd "Things To Do Before You Turn 30" list.

Etcetera, etcera.

But the more I take stock of what I haven't done or bought/invested in yet, the more I'm starting to appreciate my individuality. In fact, I'm learning to embrace who I am even more.

I'm realizing that God made me unique and gave me a different timeline from most because I have yet to accomplish His different plans for me. I am uniquely me because He has other things in store for me.

So in the meantime, I'm going to enjoy life and everything He's been blessing me with. And, really, I'm loving every bit of it.

In fact, early this morning, I enrolled myself in an online art class. I've really been inspired by my rekindled love for drawing.

Besides, they say that you're only as old as you feel anyway. And in that case, I'd have to say that I'm still 16. Or 18. Or 22. Ready to take on the world and embrace every experience it can give me.

See you soon, birthday.

Doodle Therapy

2011-08-18T10:48:00.012+08:00

When I was a kid, I used to love drawing. Two of my summer breaks were spent taking lessons from two different teachers. In high school, my classmates would always ask me to draw for them when our homework required us to present our work in more creative ways. Then in college, I enrolled in a drawing class for one of my electives and we ended that semester with an exhibit of our works.

After college, drawing took the backseat to my writing and photography. It would resurface now and then in the form of doodles and comic-type one-offs. But I never really did anything about it. Part of it stemmed from hesitation, given that there were people far more skilled than I was.

This past week, though, I put aside all reservations. Whenever things got really hectic, I somehow managed to find stillness in the form of brushstrokes. And it did bring back the sense of comfort that I once used to feel as a child surrounded by sketchpads, pencils and colored pencils.

At first, I made a Cinderella doodle for my sister who needed encouragement at that point. Inspired by her favorite Disney character, Cinderella, I drew this.

Then I decided to do some more Disney renditions (since, after all, I'm the perpetual Disney kid).

Jasmine was born over the weekend.

And since my dad was about to take a leap into another direction in his career, I dedicated this drawing of Peter Pan (his favorite character from childhood) to him.

My brother challenged me to do something from the Marvel series, and since I never really bothered to draw superheroes when I was younger, this was a welcome opportunity.

This morning, I finished my black and white rendition of Emma Frost.

My next challenge will be Magneto (GULP), which my kid brother asked me to do. After that, I'll try doing some actual portraits. I tried doing some several years ago, when I was still a relative Photoshop newbie, and I didn't like the output. Maybe by now, my technique somehow improved. I honestly hope that it did.

I realized also, while doing all of these this week, that I did miss drawing. I'd love to take a class again now that I have more of an appreciation of lighting and shadow (thanks to photography).

In the meantime, I'll start working on Magneto. He's quite an angular character and about 40% of him is shaded. Talk about Death by Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.

Wish me luck!

System Overload

2011-08-11T12:01:00.007+08:00

July was crazy. I don't remember bits and pieces of what happened within the month. Basically, I had a lot of work (which I actually enjoyed) and not much time for exercise (actually, none at all).

And because my body is awesome the way it is, it crashed. With a vengeance.

I've had asthma since I was 13. I remember the first time it happened. We were on vacation in Baguio and the house we were staying at was surrounded by a lot of greenery. Especially flowers. Because it was also freezing (this happened around December, if I'm not mistaken), my body reacted instantly to the pollen and temperature change. I remember my lungs constricting so bad; no amount of pounding on my back or vapor inhalation did me wonders. I didn't get any sleep that night, needless to say. My mom didn't either.

It was around that time that my parents invested in a nebulizer (which, to this day, is one of my best friends), especially after noticing that my dad and youngest brother were also asthmatic.

Since that incident, I've had major asthma attacks almost yearly — usually when the weather changes or when my body crashes due to fatigue. The minor ones are manageable; I have an inhaler on standby at any given time. But the major ones render me useless, really.

Needless to say, my body waved its own white flag this week when, while working late last Monday, I got an asthma attack out of nowhere. That all too familiar feeling of tightness and helplessness came back. And it was pretty embarrassing to go through such an episode in front of other people.

I spent the next two days working from home. At least I had the luxury of taking a nap whenever I needed to. I could also brainstorm and type from the comforts of my own bed.

I also made sure to consult with my doctor regarding this last episode. Thankfully, my condition has stabilized; no need for antibiotics or to increase my salbutamol dosage.

I did, however, ask why my body succumbs faster to fatigue compared to most people: my friends, officemates and even family members. Simply put, my doctor said that having asthma would always make me the underdog for life. My body would always try to compensate for the way my lungs work. My lifestyle just needs to accommodate the right balance of work, rest and exercise.

Aside from making it a priority to include exercise in my day-to-day activities, I got a vegetable supplement (spirulina), which I can take everyday, since I can't always guarantee that I get the right amount of vegetables on a daily basis.

Also, since I'm already conscious about taking my vitamins daily, I just have to be more aware of how my body is feeling; if I'm feeling under the weather, I would immediately need to take up to 1,500mg of ascorbic acid.

I sure hope that these lifestyle changes would help my body fight its daily battles.

I also hope it'll be a long while before I have to resort to the nebulizer once again.

'Til Next Time, Hogwarts!

2011-07-16T10:56:00.007+08:00

This entire week, I was both excited about and dreading the screening of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. I wanted closure to the series that changed many people's lives over the course of 10+ years. But I also didn't want it to come to an end just yet.

Last night at 9:00, my siblings, cousins and our friends entered Cinema 9 for the Ateneo School of Medicine and Public Health's premiere of the movie. I was feeling all sorts of things as the lights dimmed: nervous, excited, ecstatic, nostalgic. Then the somber opening credits started to roll, accompanied by the all-too-familiar melody of John William's theme song.

Before I could recognize or control what was happening, I was back in Harry's world, watching as he and his friends journeyed hither and yon to find the Horcruxes and destroy the Deathly Hallows before it was too late.

I can't put into words, really, what Deathly Hallows Part 2 really did for/to me. I cheered, I mourned, I laughed, I teared up, I smiled, my heart grew heavy, my heart soared. I felt that I was watching my dear friends live out their lives on the big screen for the world to see; that I had the opportunity to find closure alongside them and say goodbye. Although I've been struggling to do so for the last four years.

It's because, four years ago, on the day bookstores opened their doors to people who've lined up for hours just so they could be the first owners of the Deathly Hallows book, I was one of them. I fell in line at seven in the morning and waited for almost four hours before I could hold that 750-pager in my hands. As soon as I got home, I started reading the first page and a little over three hours later, I was done. And, for the most part, so was my childhood.

I started reading the Harry Potter series back in high school. I was a bit older than Harry, Ron and Hermione when they first boarded the train to Hogwarts, but I somehow grew up alongside them, too. I knew what Expelliarmus and Expecto Patronum meant. I waited to see when Ron and Hermione realized that they loved each other in a more-than-brother-and-sister way. I wanted to be Seeker of a Quidditch team (and be sorted into the Gryffindor House). I wanted to witness a classic Fred and George Weasley commotion. I would've loved to walk with Albus Dumbledore and talk to him for hours. Heck, I would've even tasted a booger jellybean from Diagon Alley. I read all the books (some of them twice) and saw the movies (at least thrice each, save for this most recent one)

I've had the privilege of witnessing Harry, Ron and Hermione mature through the years as well as their actor counterparts. Seriously, I feel really proud of Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint and Emma Watson — as if I were their big sister. They've all grown into wonderful people and amazing actors and their own friendship is just as magical. I've come to love the cast of the entire franchise and somehow, I don't think they mind when in my head I now picture Severus Snape as Alan Rickman. The cast made the Potter series into what it is today.

So going back to Deathly Hallows Part 2, I wasn't quite ready to say goodbye, even if I knew what would happen because I read the book. (But for the sake of those who haven't watched yet, I won't say anything.) I didn't want the inevitable fight scenes to take place because I didn't want to see the outcome unfold. I didn't want to see the end credits roll, but when they finally did, I tell you, I was the first one to applaud. The rest of the theater soon followed suit.

I realized something, though, as we left the theater, hearts heavy but eyes twinkling.

Yes, the series may be over — both book and film versions.

But it doesn't mean that it has to end.

We have the privilege of reliving Harry's wonderful journey whenever we pick up any of the seven books or re-watch the eight films. We can take trips down Diagon Alley, visit Hagrid's house, laugh with the Weasley twins, wish we could pull Cho Chang's hair (hey, she got Cedric and Harry for a time; not fair!), and hear McGonagall say, "I've always wanted to use that spell."

Over and over again.

Besides, as the brilliant J.K. Rowling put it, "Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home."

Thank you to her, to the cast and crew, to her editors and to everyone who worked on the franchise, for letting us Muggles be part of Harry's amazing journey.

We'll never forget any of it.

Much Ado About the Azkals

2011-07-05T09:46:00.027+08:00

Filipinos are sports lovers. Our build naturally allows for agility and toughness, two things required to be an athlete and sports aficionado. Basketball, for one, would always be the Filipino's favorite pastime. It also remains to be the most watched, talked about and hyped sport in the collegiate level. We also have a sprinkling of Filipino talent in other sports. Then we have boxing sensation and international superstar Manny Pacquiao. Nowadays, who doesn't know [of] him?

Being athletic myself (I was a competitive swimmer for almost ten years and I'm an active biker today), I instinctively gravitate towards all kinds of sports. When I was younger, I trained in basketball, gymnastics, badminton, taekwondo, and other sports I can't seem to recall at the moment. Some of my favorite things to watch on TV, to this day, are figure skating and gymnastic competitions, basketball games, swim meets, martial arts tournaments, and tennis matches.

But football was virtually unknown a year or so ago for most people — except for the locals who played the sport in their provinces and those whose cable TVs allowed them to watch international games on ESPN. I remember telling my blogger friend Marz, who is from Indonesia, that football isn't a big deal here. She wondered why this was so when football was her country's sport (as well as the sport of our other neighboring countries). Our football team was one of the oldest in Asia, but the influence of the Americans (who occupied the Philippines from the late 1800's to the 1900's) took over. Since then, basketball became our national sport.

Until the 2010 World Cup fever kicked in. Literally.

The few Filipinos who followed the international football scene followed their idols from ManU, Barca, Real Madrid, et al, and picked countries to root for. Soon enough, World Cup Mania was widespread. It was common to see Twitter and Facebook updates at two in the morning, Philippine time, because games were telecast around that time. While I cheered for Argentina and Brazil, I was really rooting for Spain since I spoke the language and an eighth of me is Spanish. Needless to say, I was beyond exultant when they took home the crown.

Enter the Philippine Azkals.

Itching for more football action, people's eyes turned to the recently formed Philippine football team. The "Azkals" (a derivative of the Filipino term for street dog) appealed to the team's literal underdog position. A few years back, they weren't getting enough support but as they continued to compete in the AFF, they started to get what they needed in terms of funding and sponsorships. Pretty soon, Fil-British brothers Phil and James Younghusband, who decided to make the Philippines their homebase, started making their rounds in the local scene as they conducted football clinics for kids and teens. Also, more Filipino players from other countries were being flown in to gel with the other Azkals. After the World Cup hype settled down, Filipinos all over waited to see how our team would fare in the AFF Suzuki 2010 Cup.

Surprisingly, the Azkals weren't just cruising along; they were actually doing well.

In November, the nation cheered as the Azkals beat the AFF defending champ Vietnam, 2-0. This victory is considered to be one of the biggest shocks, if not the biggest, in the history of the AFF. That's why it was no longer surprising to hear of how many people watched the Azkals' home match versus Mongolia in the Panaad Stadium, Bacolod City, in February of this year. Filipinos from all over flew in just for the game and it was another sweet victory: a 2-0 outcome in our favor, to be precise.

Shortly after the game against Mongolia, we started to hear about the Azkals' plans to join the World Cup qualifiers. Why not? we all thought. We were entitled to dream big for the country.

So preparations were underway.

The Azkals started to train hard for the first round. Their first away game vs. Sri Lanka was to take place on June 28.

I remember rushing home from work that day because I was dying to watch the game. I got home just in time to see the Sri Lankans score a goal minutes before halftime. It was frustrating because the Sri Lankans were aggressive and it seemed as if the Azkals were struggling just to survive. Thankfully, the game ended at 1-1. That meant a possibility of the Philippines winning on aggregate goals.

The home game was to take place last July 3rd and I knew that I needed to see this game live. It would be my first time to witness any sporting event on an international level and I was more than excited.

Decked in blue, my youngest brother CJ, best friend Mitch, and I joined the thousands of people who came in support of the Azkals. It was a hot afternoon and the traffic going to the newly renovated Rizal Memorial Stadium was horrendous, but I didn't care. I couldn't wait to watch the game!

It was beyond amazing to feel a sense of national pride and unity with the 15,000 Pinoys who were there (despite the downpour of rain midway into the first half until a few minutes after the second half). Rizal Memorial was a sea of blue. There were kids, elderly folk, parents, teenagers, yuppies; it was a well represented crowd. And of course, one couldn't help but notice the groups of female teens who came to ogle at their choice of Azkal heartthrobs: the Younghusband brothers, goalkeeper Neil Etheridge, defenders Aly Borromeo, Anton del Rosario and Stephan Schrock, and midfielder and recent recruit Angel Guirado, to name a few.

Whatever everyone's motive was — whether it was to see our team succeed or just the chance to catch a glimpse of Stephan Schrock's abs — it was a glorious day for every Filipino present. The Azkals rewarded the crowd with a 4-0 victory over Sri Lanka, entitling themselves to advance to the second round of the World Cup qualifiers. We can only thank the ever-feisty Chieffy Caligdong for the first goal, Phil Younghusband for scoring the next two despite a hamstring injury, and Angel Guirado for the smooth and suave fourth and final one.

The next round will see the Azkals competing against the more experienced, tougher Kuwait. Whether we advance or not, whether or not we actually reach Brazil in 2014, I'll be a proud Philippine Team fan; grateful that they've brought about a love for football once again.

Go, Pilipinas!

*********************

Here are some photos from Sunday's game vs. Sri Lanka. SLRs weren't allowed, but Mitch and I managed to take pretty decent shots with our prosumer digital cameras:

Team photo before the game.

Phil Younghusband going after the ball.

Keeper Neil Etheridge easily deflects a Sri Lankan goal attempt and kicks it back to his teammates.

Defender Anton del Rosario on defense mode.

Angel Guirado all smiles after scoring the 4th goal.

The sweetness of victory.

The victory parade around the oval.

This one's for you, ladies. Love, Stephan Schrock.

For more photos, please click on this link (only accessible if you're on Facebook).

Poster Design

2011-06-30T10:23:00.010+08:00

Sometimes, I get to exercise my design "chops", if you will.

Today's project is a poster design for a hip hop class that my sister and her dancer friends will be teaching every Saturday.

Actually, it's a continuation of the summer dance class that my sister taught. This was the poster.

The kids enjoyed themselves so much (and others wanted to enroll but were too late), so they asked for another series of lessons to be taught throughout the school year.

Hence today's poster.

By the way, those who may be interested to enroll, please do. The class is for teens and yuppies who haven't taken up hip hop or want to brush up on their skills. You may send a message to my aunt's dance school directly for inquiries.

Thank you!

The Belated Birthday Tribute

2011-06-28T17:04:00.008+08:00

"Hey, sent you an email."
"Okay, checking."

An hour ago, I get an email from my best bud, Mitch, which contains a photo of her two German Shepherd pups swimming. In her email, she writes, "We miss you!"

Mitch is the kind of friend who remembers to send me a message when she's about to jump in the pool or when she sees a bikini that I might like at a discounted price. She's the kind of sister who tells me what annoys and stresses her out (from the most trivial to earth-shaking) and patiently hears me out when I tell her my own frustrations. She's the kind of person who doesn't mind considering a simple lunch out of sizzling burger steak in the nearby mall foodcourt as fun and quality time, as opposed to a dolled up night out.

In other words, she's almost an extension of me. Except that I don't have the brains to pursue law and figure out tens of hundreds of Rubik's Cube configurations. Meanwhile, she leaves the "artsy-fartsy" stuff to me. Or so she says.

We usually finish each other's sentences (even when messaging each other on BBM from our corners of the metropolis) and understand what the other is saying with A Look. We've shown up at lunches or dinners out in the exact same pair of sandals that we bought on separate occasions. We share the same outlook on life and deeply value our faith and relationship with God. We both put our family first (after God, that is) and treat one another's families as extensions of our own.

It's funny how we started off, actually. Back in grade school, we didn't pay much attention to each other. But in my first day of my freshman year of high school, I entered my classroom with a sense of loneliness and abandonment. My real "friends" were in different classes and I was the only one who wound up in this particular class. I sat down beside Mitch and we basically hit it off. After that first day, we worked together on projects, rode home with one another (since we live around 15 minutes away from each other), and basically became partners-in-crime.

She's seen me at my worst (I remember sobbing like a baby when my Beagle died; I was 15 then and made absolutely no sense on the phone, but she let me blubber away) and always cheered for me whenever I had a reason to celebrate. She understands me in a way that only she can and I truly believe that God meant for us to be not just friends but sisters that day He made us sit beside each other in our freshman class.

Thank you for being you and for letting me be a part of your crazy, wonderful life!

Belated Happy Birthday, dude! ♡

Dear Mom and Dad

2011-06-28T10:10:00.010+08:00

DISCLAIMER: This entry was inspired by the series of messages being given at our church, CCF, on the importance of family and building positive relationships. But this may not necessarily reflect the church's views on family dynamics; these are mostly my own reflections and musings.

This goes out to everyone who still considers himself or herself a "kid".

******************************

Dear Mom and Dad,

You may not know or see this, but I really need you in my life.

I need you to listen to me when I'm feeling down. Sometimes, I just want to talk and not be talked down to. I want to cry, I want to rant, I want to reason out, I want to bawl, I want to blab. When there is nothing left to say, when there are no tears left in me, that's when I can appreciate your wisdom and insight. That's when I'll be open to listen to your feedback, correction and even rebuke. But don't forget to hug me afterwards, okay? There's nothing quite like a hug or a pat on the back from you to give me a much-needed boost of morale.

I also need you to be with me — not just when I feel bad. I'd actually like for us to do fun things together like shop, watch basketball games, pig out, or go out of town. I feel bad when I don't see you by the time I go to bed because you're busy working overtime. Honestly, I consider something as simple as laughing with you while playing a game of Monopoly as priceless; something money can't ever buy or pay for. I'd like for us to hang out like friends and to genuinely enjoy each other's company.

I need you to realize that I'm changing. I'm no longer that little boy or girl whom you could corner into doing things (and spank if said things weren't done). I'm growing up. I need you to recognize that while I'm still (and will always be) your child, the way you treat me will have to change. I can't respond to you the way I could when I was in preschool or when I was 11. If you must get mad at me, I'd really appreciate it if you could reason with me in an age-appropriate way. I'm old enough to understand and process what you want to say and it really hurts when you treat me as if I were still a toddler.

I need you to recognize me as uniquely me. I am not you, I am not my brothers or my sisters, I am not my classmate who graduated valedictorian, or the "It" guy or girl on campus, or my friend who made his first million at the age of 24. My personality, strengths and weaknesses are mine and mine alone. I need you to respect my individuality and affirm me for being different. I will never be able to live up to your standards if you constantly compare me to other people.

I need you to know that I watch the things you do and that you influence me so much. Whether you know it or not, I've picked up a lot of things from you that you might not be aware of. Like the way you view things, the way you react to negative situations or to crises, the way you take your faith seriously (or not), the way you treat people, the way you work, the way you value the family. These things continue to make me who I am today and determine how I'll be as a spouse and as a parent someday.

I need you to show me how to operate in this world. It's because of your example and guidance that I'll know how to deal with all kinds of people; how to hold on to the values you passed on to me despite pressure from every imaginable side; how to be the person you want me to be.

I need you to understand that even if it seems that I take you for granted sometimes, that's really not the case. I lash out or act up sometimes because I need you to notice me; even if it means being scolded at or grounded. I might ignore your existence because I can't seem to talk to you even if I'm dying to say something. I need you to try hard to reach out to me when I don't know how to get through to you. I might be stiff at first, but in time, I'll come to appreciate your efforts and reciprocate.

I need you to show me that you're only human, too. That you make mistakes, that things don't always go according to plan. I need to see that you're not too proud to say sorry when you're wrong, that it's okay to cry, but most of all, that you know how to get up after a fall.

I need you to realize that even if we may not see things eye to eye — maybe because of that so-called generation gap or personality differences — your opinion will always matter. Like it or not, in time, I will also come to recognize that you were right all along. (As usual.)

I need you to embody Jesus' love and forgiveness for me so that I'll be able to extend that same kind of love and forgiveness to others.

Bottomline is: I need you to see just how important you are to me.

I really, really, really need you to love me as I love you.

Love,
Your Son or Daughter

On Confidence

2011-06-27T15:01:00.007+08:00

I've realized something lately. And this came about because of a conversation I had with my sister yesterday. She was really happy with what I was doing to one of her photos for her Lookbook page and I said something along the lines of, "It's not that amazing." She said, "Why do you say things like that?"

Basically, I realized that I don't exactly believe in myself.

Sure I acknowledge that God gave me talents and skills and I thank Him for them. I'm grateful that I can string together sentences and words and that I work as a writer. I'm grateful that I have an artistic side; without this, I wouldn't be able to doodle, render artworks on Photoshop and have photography as a passion. I'm grateful for my love of languages and that I can actually pick up words and pronunciations fairly quickly. I'm also grateful for my pseudo-athleticism (I wouldn't say I'm an all-around athlete, though; far from it).

However, whenever I engage in something that requires a skill or talent of mine, half the time, I'm wondering if what I'm doing is good enough. There's a part of me that always feels that someone can do it better. There's also that part of me that wonders why I bother.

I guess you could say that I tend to self-deprecate. It's the reason why I always downplay words of encouragement by saying things like "No, anyone else can do this" or by giving a sheepish smile. Sometimes, I'll give suggestions in relation to compliments given to me, i.e. "You should check out so-and-so. Her writing's so much better!"

It's weird because in the industry I work in, the ego must be present. The ads that we create are our babies: products of our imaginations and emotions. We have to have enough confidence to sell these ideas to our bosses first, followed by our clients. It's why we feel bad whenever we don't get an approval. It's why we take things personally when something negative is said about our work.

I have enough of that much-needed ego to survive in this industry. I'm confident enough to believe in the lines I write and the stories I fabricate. I bank on this confidence and put on my game face and sell my ideas — oftentimes with flair.

Perhaps this is because I'm a bit of a perfectionist.

Okay, fine. I am one.

I'm never satisfied. When I was younger and I used to draw Disney-inspired comics, I would trash or rip apart an entire page if, say, one strand of hair didn't come out right. I could've just erased my mistakes, sure, but I wasn't happy with the thought that something was wrong. Today, whenever I have to write something, I check, triple check, then quintuple check to see if there's anything I missed out on. Whenever I take a photo, I make sure that my settings are always on burst mode so that I have six to eight shots per pose/layout to choose from.

There's always this strong desire to better myself in every way possible. I always believe that my most recent ad should be better than the last one. That my photography should've improved tremendously compared to how I shot six months ago. That I should be able to do a 50-kilometer bike run by now.

I think I need to believe in myself more. I need to believe that God gave me these talents and skills for a reason. Not because I am to be compared to a zillion others out there with similar talents and skills.

I'd like to believe it's because He gave me all these because He wants me to fully realize who and what I can be.

In the meantime, I'll try my very best to make Him proud.

Bangkok Lovin'

2011-06-27T14:27:00.002+08:00

I decided to write about long-overdue entry on my last Bangkok trip in the fashion blog that my sister and I co-maintain.

Please check it out here!

Thank you!

Wet and Wild

2011-06-25T08:19:00.015+08:00

The last few days, Metro Manila has been one soggy mess. Typhoon Falcon entered the Philippines and brought with it so much rainfall that the water in Marikina River spilled over to the residence areas nearby and the nearest dam, La Mesa, is at a critical state. For the first time — in my lifetime, at least — there was actually a tornado that swept through parts of Quezon City. I really couldn't believe it when I first heard about it.

Classes were called off yesterday and for the first time in quite some time, office workers were sent home early for safety reasons. Several parts of the city were flooded up to chest level and many roads were beyond impassable. I haven't had much sleep the last few days because the sound of rainfall was so loud (not to much the sporadic rumbling of thunder) that I would wake up every few hours.

Because of the horror that was Typhoon Ondoy/Ketsana two years ago, Filipinos are extra panicky whenever it starts to drizzle. Thankfully, what we learned two years ago about proper dissemination of information as well as evacuation procedures were put to good use the last few days. Subdivisions near creeks and bodies of water were evacuated early and thanks to social networking sites like Twitter and Facebook, we knew what was happening almost every single minute.

Thankfully, as of this writing, the rain has stopped and I can actually hear birds chirping again. Welcome sounds, I tell you. I've always enjoyed the sound of rainfall but I think I've had too much of it lately.

Plus, it's not exactly "comforting" to hear a combination of rainfall, wind and thunder.

Here are some Instagram photos that I managed to take throughout this whole Typhoon Falcon experience.

Traffic on the first night it started to pour. It took me two and a half hours to get home.
The following day. It was so gloomy that we all had a hard time concentrating on work.
Going home was a challenge. There were so many flooded streets that vehicles were swimming.
Yesterday morning on my way to work, I had to jump over puddles left and right. And I wore the wrong shoes. Lesson learned: NEVER wear ballet flats when you know it's going to rain hard.
A shot while having lunch in our office pantry. Can you say GLOOMY?
We were sent home shortly after lunch and since I was car-less, I immediately rushed to the train station. Unfortunately, the rest of Metro Manila seemed to be there as well. The ride home was an adventure as we were squished like sardines with umbrellas poking us on all sides.
On my way home, I ended up buying a pair of rain boots. Aforementioned ballet flats were also a soggy mess prior to getting these boots. So sorry, ballet flats!
Only someBUDDY seemed to be enjoying the rain. All he does is sleep!

Oh, I spoke (err, wrote) too soon. The rain's back. Sigh.

All I can do is pray that it stops raining — completely — soon and that my countrymen are safe and dry. Eleven people died yesterday because of the storm and I sincerely hope that there won't be other casualties as a result of this continuous rainfall.

Lord, our city is in Your Hands. You are King over the flood.

La Lune Rouge

2011-06-16T09:31:00.007+08:00

Sometimes, waking up at 4:00 in the morning has its perks.

Like catching a lunar eclipse, which happens once in a blue (err, red) moon.

But because the moon was red as opposed to its usual yellowish-white, my lens had a hard time "finding" it. I had to guess manually where it should focus. Hence the not-so-sharp quality of the pics.

Still glad that I got to witness this rare event, though. Thank you, Lord, for moments like these!

********************

Settings:

Canon EOS 500D
Lens: Sigma 70-300mm Macro
ISO 200
Aperture: f/5.6
Shutterspeed: 15 seconds

Dear Mr. Jerzon Senador

2011-06-14T18:18:00.008+08:00

To Mr. Senador,

I get that you might want to make people laugh. Which is why you posted this photo.

But please tell me: how is it, in any way, funny?

Is it the sight of four legs dangling that made you decide to take a picture? Or is it the idea of a living, breathing, helpless puppy hanging out to dry instead of a stuffed toy?

How would you feel if you were the one being hung by the strands of your hair, your ears, your shoulders and hands instead of a doll?

Nope, I don’t think you’d like it one bit.

I don’t know what your background is at all. I don’t know what you were taught growing up.

But in case you may not be aware of this, there is a worldwide movement that seeks to put a stop to animal cruelty.

Defined, animal cruelty means inflicting harm or suffering upon non-human animals for purposes other than self-defense. Yes, there are exemptions to this (i.e. humans eating animal meat; unfortunately, some animals are used for clothing and accessories – which I’m not a fan of, by the way).

But having a pet means caring for the animal because it serves as your companion. In many instances, pets are treated like any other member of the family.

This puppy, clearly, lives with you because he or she is your pet. Why would you inflict harm on it? I’m guessing, from the photo, that he or she isn’t even three months old. Are you aware of what this simple act of maltreatment could have done to the puppy’s skin, fur, or internal organs?

Maybe it was a spur-of-the-moment thing to hang this puppy on the clothesline. Yes, I get that we all have those moments where we want to do something crazy or for no reason at all.

However, actions have consequences. I’m guessing you completely failed to realize that.

I don’t know what your beliefs are, Mr. Senador, but as a Christian, I believe that God gave man authority over the other creatures of the earth. I believe that we’re supposed to be responsible and care for their well being. And as an owner of three dogs whom I absolutely love, I believe we’re supposed to treat them not just with decency but with kindness and respect.

Your puppy never did anything wrong to you, save for perhaps a few nips on your fingers or an ill-timed peeing accident. He didn’t deserve what was done to him, even if it was meant just for laughs.

I write this because I want not just you, but every other pet owner to realize that we should take better care of our furry friends. Not just because organizations such as PAWS could potentially sue for animal abuse. Not just because acts of animal injustice, such as this, can be easily written about and spread all over the Internet.

But because it’s the right thing to do.

Mr. Senador, I hope that you understand fully that what you did was downright wrong and that you’ve sincerely apologized to your poor, helpless puppy.

And when you do, I hope that it won't be for the wrong reasons, i.e. your reputation on the worldwide web.

Sincerely,

A Dog Lover

Channeling My Frustrations

2011-06-14T08:39:00.013+08:00

I wish I could perform.

Alas, this is one of my biggest frustrations. I just wasn't created for the stage. I can't act (I look fake, no matter what role I'm made to play), I can't dance (I quit ballet when I was seven because I realized, to my mom's dismay, that I really wasn't good at it), I never really specialized in any instrument and I can't sing. I'd like to think that I'm not tone-deaf, but no, I'm never gonna be a singer.

This is why I live vicariously through the shows I watch on TV, such as American Idol and So You Think You Can Dance. It's amazing to see the contestants on Idol sing flawlessly (for the most part) and change up the arrangements of certain songs. I don't even have the ear for that. On SYTYCD, I'm constantly blown away by how the contestants seamlessly shift from one dance genre to another when they've just learned the dances a day before. There's so much talent out there that I honestly wonder sometimes why I don't possess even a fraction of it.

Enter The Glee Project.

A few days ago, I saw some teasers for this show. At first, I wondered if a second-rate cable network wanted to produce some kind of a Glee spin-off. 'Til I saw Ryan Murphy's face in one of the snippets.

Not only is the show actually related to Glee, apparently; it was created for Glee.

Basically, Glee wannabes were given the chance to audition for the show via MySpace, after which a screening process took place. This is where The Glee Project comes in.

Glee creators turned the audition process into a reality show, trimming down the number of applicants from thousands to 12 left. Week after week, the contestants will experience what the Glee cast actually has to go through – from recording to acting to choreography to filming – and by the end of an episode, one contestant is eliminated. Every episode also features a guest judge from the current ensemble of Glee.

For the pilot episode, which premiered yesterday, it was Darren Criss who plays Blaine on the show.

Hi, Darren!
(Cue: School girl giddy mode)

Being a Gleek (although I loved the show so much more in its first season compared to the second), I love the concept behind The Glee Project. I love that they are looking for raw, undiscovered talent. I love that the contestants are being given a chance to go through the entire Glee experience with the people behind-the-scenes who matter: the casting director, voice coach, choreographer, and producers. I love that, in a matter of weeks, we'll know which of the Top 12 will be on Glee next season (and we'll know the story behind why he/she was chosen).

Since I can't act, dance, play an instrument or sing to save my life, once again, I shall live vicariously through the contestants.

May the best Gleek win!

An Advanced Post: Happy Father's Day!

2011-06-13T17:09:00.008+08:00

Posting this early, because knowing my inconsistencies when it comes to blogging, this might never get posted.

********************

"First impressions aren’t always what they seem."

This is definitely true for my dad.

When you first see and get to talk to him, you may be intimidated by his tall frame and booming voice. You’d probably think he’s formal or strict or a tad reserved. You might even be overwhelmed when you hear him talk about current events, finance, literature, apologetics or the exegesis of a passage in the Bible, or a basketball game that he watched and analyzed intently.

To some extent, those feelings are valid. Because my dad is tall. And he does have a low, booming voice (which I inherited, fortunately or unfortunately). He can come off as reserved or formal compared to other people because of his line of work (banking). And because he’s definitely smarter than most people, you may not always get to ride on the same intellectual wave that he’s on.

But you would be wrong to stop and presume that that’s all there is to my dad. Because there’s definitely more to him than these impressions.

Believe it or not, he can be one of the silliest people you’ll ever meet. Just watch him grow animated when he plays with our dogs and you’ll see why. He also cracks the corniest jokes. Case in point: “What do you call a butterfly that passed by? A butterflew!” Oh, Dad.

He can also be one of the most thoughtful people. He’s a patient shopper (a rarity in a world of women and shopping malls) and really thinks of what each one of us wants and needs. A couple of years ago, my sister was into this specific type of strawberry cupcakes, which was hard to come by. It came to a point where she would be really lucky if she got to buy just one of those cupcakes. But one evening, Dad surprised her with an entire box of 12 of that particular flavor.

When he sees a book I might like, he gets it for me right away (even if it’s chick lit – imagine the thought!). Sometimes he’ll email links of dog-related articles or anything of interest to the whole family while he’s at work. He’ll call for pizza when one of us is having a bad day and he really makes sure that we get to celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, milestones and accomplishments. When we’re out for Sunday lunch but someone’s at home because he/she’s sick, Dad’s the first one to place an order for take-home. Despite his busy schedule and zillions of responsibilities, he’s updated with the goings-on in all our lives, trivial or monumental, and through the years, he always made sure that he’d be there for our swim meets, recitals, plays, performances, art exhibits, graduations and awarding ceremonies.

When it comes to the things he holds dear, such as his faith, family, our dogs, his books, or Ateneo basketball, he goes all-out. And speaking of basketball, people who've seen him in action during live games can attest to the passionate way he calls out referees and players from the opposing team who commit serious fouls. (Heehee.)

But on a more serious note, he’s always taught us the value of time (“Filipino time” doesn’t exist in his vocabulary and schema), discipline, and hard work through his work ethic. He shows us how to appreciate family and the simple joys in life. By example, we’ve learned from him what it means to bounce back from adversities, how to apply godly principles, how to keep the faith and, more importantly, share it.

Thanks for these and more, Dad! We love you.

Happy Father's Day! ♡

P.S. He's extremely camera-shy (he refused to take a graduation photo, so he doesn't have one in his college yearbook). Ironically, he has one of the most photoholic people on the planet for his daughter, so he's had to get used to the sound of the shutter clicking a mile a minute. But thankfully, he's getting better at posing for the camera and taking wacky shots. Thanks for bearing with me!

Merely Freshmen

2011-06-13T12:36:00.020+08:00

It was 7:30 am. Unsure of the outfit I put together (after wearing a gingham uniform every day for eleven years of my life) I walked to the third floor of the SEC A building. This was where I would be attending my first-ever class in college. The subject? Math 11, one of the greatest foes of a Communication major.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been seeing status updates on Facebook and Twitter from this year’s freshmen from different schools. Some have posted their class schedules, some have asked which professor to take for so-and-so course and others have expressed their First Day Funk anxiety. Today, the freshmen from my beloved university will begin their college lives and with this, a wave of nostalgia hits me. While it seems like my college life took place eons ago, it also feels like it was my first day just yesterday.

Times may have changed drastically from the time I was a freshman to today, but a few things have stayed the same: feeling nervous on the first day, the jitters before an oral exam, the excitement during outings with friends, the high after a successful activity with your org, the stress of an all-nighter, endless laughter during long breaks, the relief after graduation.

College is a transition period that serves to hone one’s skills and direct one’s future. It’s both exciting and nerve-racking. But if you embrace each day, it can be the best experience of your life.

So I write all these with today’s freshmen in mind: my brother who will be one a year from now and cousins who have two years to go, another cousin who's now a freshman, some “kids” who were once my Sunday School students.

Dear freshmen, don’t hold back. Don’t let first impressions stop you from reaching out to the people you’ll meet. They will come from all walks of life and their personalities will be as varied as the color spectrum. One of them may be your best friend for life, your husband or wife, or maybe an important contact once you start working.

If you have a passion for a sport, a form of art or self-expression, or a particular endeavor, join an org. Not only will it keep you well rounded, it will keep you grounded as well. Having a passion brings more color to your life; something straight A’s can’t quite give you. Having a support system brings more meaning to your day-to-day existence. Until now, I regret not joining the swimming varsity, just because I thought that I wouldn’t be good enough.

Remember that your grades don’t dictate who you are. Just because everyone else seems to be on the Dean’s List while you’re struggling, it doesn’t mean that you’re inferior to them. By the same token, don’t limit your choice of professors based on how they can boost your QPI or average; there’s more to life that the so-called terror profs can teach you; something far greater than an A, a quatro or an uno on your class card.

Take it all in. When you’ve had it up to your neck in readings, when you can’t stand the drama within an org, when you want to self-combust after your nth computation or paper, remember that this will all end. At some point, you will finish the semester and move on to the next. Then graduate. These experiences will help you, whether you know it or not, in what people call “the real world”. The stress you face today will multiply a hundredfold when you face office politics and become responsible not just for yourself. So take it one day at a time; this long exam, too, shall pass.

Remember why you’re there in the first place. Not just because it’s what comes after high school or because you want to make your parents proud. You’re there because, someday, you will contribute to the growth of society. Someday, you’ll be treating patients, crunching numbers for a multinational bank, writing for a magazine or newspaper, delivering the news, predicting trends in the stock market, selling a brand, making ads or films, defending in court, constructing or designing a building, finding solutions to a more sustainable lifestyle, helping the less fortunate live a better life, or governing the nation. What you do today will serve a greater purpose someday.

But don’t forget to have the time of your life.

I sure did.

Me (second from left, back row) with fellow Comm majors.
Bachelor of Arts in Communication, March 2004

Welcome to college!

Biking 101

2011-06-08T09:40:00.011+08:00

On how to choose a bike, that is.

Backgrounder: the bike I currently own (my beloved Merida Kalahari) was bought secondhand. I didn't know anything about bike sizes in relation to my height when I got this bike. I just wanted to pick up the sport once again after a ten-year dry spell and join my friends who had already started getting into trail biking without me.

One year later, I'm more informed when it comes to bike specs and getting a feel for how bikes work. And I've realized one important thing:

My bike is small for me.

Just from my past pictures, my biker friends could tell this because of my height while seated in proportion to the seat post and handlebars. So I raised the seat post. But now, I realize that I look kind of awkward on it. See photo below:

From last Saturday's trail ride at Camp Aguinaldo.

There are websites – like this one – that calculate what the height of your bike frame should be, considering your height (mine's 5'8") and leg length (mine's 34"). Not taking into consideration several other factors like top tube length, I should be an owner of a 19" bike. My bike's 15".

However, based on the opinions of my experienced and knowledgeable biker friends, I should fit comfortably on a 17" bike.

I've since tried taller bikes (yes, a 17" or 18" bike fits just right) and I'm convinced that I'd need to upgrade to a taller bike in the near future. Not only will I feel better while riding; I'll probably be able to pedal faster and harder while exerting less effort.

In the meantime, I'll still get more mileage – or kilometerage, since we use the metric system; Laugh Out Loud – out of my Merida. This Sunday, I'm joining the Independence Day Ride (the Philippines celebrates its Independence Day on June 12) around Makati. It'll be a 20km ride inclusive of climbs up flyovers, which is kind of intimidating, but exciting.

Last Travel Hurrah for the Summer (Part 1)

2011-05-31T10:13:00.027+08:00

As of this past weekend, the Philippines officially said its farewells to the summer season and welcomed the rain. It had been raining on and off for the last couple of weeks, so planning last-minute vacations has become a tricky business.

But I got to spend the last three weekends away from home – two of which were personal trips and one of which was for work.

Weekend No. 1 (May 13 to 15)

Together with my siblings and new family friends, we did the ultimate road trip to the CWC (CamSur Watersports Complex) in Camarines Sur for a weekend of wakeboarding, sun and more fun.

We stayed in this quaint (really, it was quaint) little wooden cabin. There was a bathroom with a glass partition, a bedroom with just enough space for a queen-sized bed and a desk, and an outer room with just enough space for a pull-out bed. In other words, it was just right for me and my three siblings.

After checking in (it took us ten hours to get there by car), my sister Cooks and I decided to swim. We had the resort pool all to ourselves.

Afterwards, we met up with our brothers and Anna for some wakeboarding. Chuck had already wakeboarded before when he went with Anna's family. But Cooks, CJ and I were total n00bs. We were in for a wild ride.

Although I consider myself to be a fairly coordinated person (I did gymnastics for a few years, so I know a thing or two about balancing), I didn't factor in the speed of the line pulling us as well as the waves. It took a while before I could completely cross the lake. My first few attempts saw me wiping out in the middle of the lake.

I have no action shots of myself wakeboarding, but I managed to take one of Anna. She was not only able to cross the lake a few times, but she was successful at making a 180º turn and going back. Nice!

We ended our first night with several rounds of card games.

I had heard before that there were several nearby islands which were accessible by bangka (small motorized boats with plywood rafters), so the next day, the five of us decided to go island hopping.

We drove for two hours to Sabang Port, and there, we were met by guides who told us which islands were close by and which were farther.

Thirty minutes later, we touched down at what we'd like to call "our island". It was deserted, save for the little huts where we could place our things. Chuck and Anna set off to enjoy the sun and clear waters.

CJ decided to do silly faces underwater. He was the first of us siblings to hit the beach this summer (he was invited by a friend to his beach house back in early March; how I'd love to have my own beach house) but there was a storm that weekend so they didn't swim. This time around, he finally got to enjoy the underwater world.

My sister is more toned than I am, but at least I emerged from this trip more tanned than ever. Talk about self-reassurance.

It was hard to say goodbye to "our island".

On our way back, our guide took us to another nearby island. There were amazing waterfalls over there and we couldn't not check it out.

It was awesome to swim under the falls.

On our last morning, we had just enough time for breakfast and packing up before making the twelve-hour trip home (there were festivals in the towns we passed, hence the traffic). But before that, we vowed to come back and hopefully conquer the lake for more advanced wakeboarders.

Thank you, CWC! We hope to be back soon.

The next day will see me flying back to Bangkok for work for the rest of the week. That entry will follow soon. Stay tuned!

And It's Up!

2011-05-10T09:12:00.009+08:00

I briefly hinted in this entry that my sister and I were cooking up something. And finally, it's here!

http://styleecon.blogspot.com

Our joint "Fashion Made Accessible" blog is now up and running. In it, we hope to feature worthwhile finds as well as fashion tips.

My sister will be doing most of the writing (since she's the one who has a more fashionable – pardon the pun – reputation) and the photography will be c/o me. But I'd also love to write whenever possible.

Do drop by every now and then and feel free to comment or to suggest since we're new to this.

Thanks and happy reading!

There's Something About Mari

2011-05-09T13:20:00.018+08:00

Back in the mid-70's, Mari had no clue as to how life would turn out for her. After all, she was just a college freshman. She had no idea that she would eventually become the girlfriend of that smart aleck Philosophy major who was her classmate in English. She didn't expect that, seven years later, he would remain her first and only boyfriend and that they would marry.

But marry they did, and months after their wedding, they had a daughter. Three years later, they had a son. Another four years passed before they were blessed with another daughter. Five years later, they were surprised with the addition of another son.

Marison, or Mari to her relatives and high school friends and Sonia to everyone else, didn't know what motherhood entailed. She just had to "wing it", as she would often say. Each child she was blessed with was different, and each experience she went through as a parent would have to be handled just as differently.

But motherhood suited her. It suited her quite well, in fact. There was a natural progression from nurturer to teacher to confidante and friend.

Not all is well every single day, though. She gets panic attacks when her kids aren't home by a certain time. She also throws a fit when her kids' rooms are messy. She hates it when plans don't follow through. She can be just as stubborn as her own kids are when it comes to decisions and convictions.

But all these are inconsequential compared to the corny jokes she cracks, the wrong lyrics that she sings, the awesome food that she surprises everyone with, the words of wisdom that always makes sense, and the godly character that she always displays.

She is the Number One Fan of her youngest son CJ's guitar skills; the Ultimate Stage Mother whenever her second daughter Cooky has a dance performance; the one parent who never fails to shed a tear whenever her son Chuck songleads in church; the cheerleader of her firstborn Tina's achievements at work. She's also the adopted mother of many of her kids' friends as well as her own officemates who are younger.

If she thinks the world of her kids, well, the feeling's mutual.

We love you, Mom!

Water Baby

2011-05-04T10:58:00.030+08:00

Apologies for being an inconsistent blogger yet again. Life got in the way. By "Life", I mean family-related events, a lot of work, a TVC shoot, weekend bike rides and most recently, our office's trip to the beautiful island of Boracay.

I'm pretty sure that, by now, almost everyone in the world knows of Boracay. There may be people in far-flung places who don't know what Manila is, but they'd probably recognize the word "Boracay". Of course they would. After all, it was recently named the "second best beach in the world".

With its extremely fine white sand (seriously, walking on Boracay sand feels like walking on milk or cream powder; soft and cool to the touch even at 12 noon), aqua-colored water, a host of water sports activities to boast of and a nightlife that anyone would want to participate in, Boracay remains to be one of the favorite destinations of us locals and foreign tourists.

One of my first pictures when I set foot in that island. Paradise!

Boracay, however, holds a special place in my heart not only because of the aforementioned reasons. Decades ago, Aklan (Boracay is located in this province) was recognized as a separate province by my maternal grandfather, Godofredo P. Ramos. That's why the airport in Caticlan (the island right across Boracay) is named the Godofredo P. Ramos Airport. Trivia!

The airport back in 2009. Currently, it is undergoing renovation.

One of the things that I really enjoyed about this trip with my officemates was the fact that the water and I got to be reunited once more.

See, I'm such a water baby that I need to swim in a pool on a regular basis (I do laps in our neighborhood pool and whenever my best friend invites me over to her house, we always hang in her pool first). Regular beach trips aren't as feasible, though, since it's so hard to find people who are available to join me on given weekends. It was already the last week of April (our summer months are from March to May) and this was my first – and so far, only – beach trip.

Still, I made the most of it.

Firstly, I finally got to experience what helmet diving was all about. Basically, you gather a group of people and ride a bangka to the middle of the sea, get off at a makeshift dock where you get briefed on how to breathe inside these metal helmets, you're accompanied as you descend 16 feet, and you feed the fish and walk among corals for 30 minutes underwater.

Needless to say, I had a blast!

I felt like I was home, for some reason. Being all the way down there was incredibly natural to me.

Secondly, I snorkeled the morning away on our second day. A group of us went island hopping and there were opportunities to snorkel on specific islands. I was probably the one who stayed in the water the longest. It came to a point where my officemates had to shout for me to swim back because the bangka was already leaving.

A photo of me looking for my next underwater subject, taken by my boss.

Thanks to my abovementioned best friend, who's also a water baby, for letting me borrow her Olympus underwater camera. I hope to have my own someday (*cough*CanonD10*cough*).

Lastly, I didn't stop swimming, whether I was in open water or the hotel's swimming pool.

Swimming in Boracay's turquoise sea on the first day.

In the pool with fellow copywriter Nicole in the afternoon of the second day.

An obligatory handstand in the middle of nowhere on our third and last day.

As a bonus, Boracay's sunsets are some of the best I've ever seen.

I hope that I can still sneak in another beach trip before summer bids us farewell and the rains make an appearance. After all, there are so many beaches in this country that I've yet to set foot on.

'Til my next visit, Boracay. I had a blast!

An Attempt at Fashion Photography

2011-04-11T11:41:00.014+08:00

My sister is done, done and done with the student life forever. Now that she's in the middle of job interviews, taking women-centric hiphop classes and teaching basic hiphop to teenagers, she's in shopping mode. One of her life's ambitions is to put up her own fashion empire (okay, fine; at least a business). In the meantime, she's been getting ideas from bazaars, consignments, and the worldwide web.

She's thinking about creating her own Lookbook account when she can document (which actually means when I'm free) more of her looks.

In the meantime, here are outtakes from yesterday's first attempt at street fashion photography. She put together her ensemble; I stood behind the camera and snapped away.

Hmmm. Maybe this could be a business that we sisters can get into someday.

Vest from MNG; tube top was from a secondhand shop; animal print top from a bazaar; bead necklace was a gift; floral ring from a bazaar; gold bangle from a bazaar; harem pants from a secondhand shop; leather shoes from Prima Donna; bag from Rockwell; round-framed glasses from Hong Kong.

Do Your Part

2011-03-23T15:10:00.024+08:00

I was on my way home last night when I saw a group of employees standing outside their office building. Some were smoking while others were there just for the company. They were dressed well enough, which, to me, meant that they were most likely well-educated and on the way to being successful.

So I was wondering why they didn't bother to pick up a bag of chips that happened to be right beside them.

I don't know if they were the ones who finished the chips. Or if the bag was already there when they stepped outside. That's beside the point anyway.

When I was a child, at home and in school, I was taught to dispose of trash properly; whether or not it was mine. I couldn't believe that these adults, people who were supposed to be responsible not just for themselves but for their surroundings, couldn't be bothered by the sight of an empty bag of chips on the sidewalk.

I bent down, picked it up and walked four steps. That was the distance between them and the nearest trash can.

They just gave me a blank stare.

I blog about this not to toot my own horn. I have no reason and no right to.

But given what's been happening around the world — earthquakes, tsunamis, flooding and a host of other calamities — I think that we should be much more aware of and responsible for our actions.

Our neighbor, Japan, is in the middle of getting back on their feet. As of this writing, 9,300 have died because of the tsunami and earthquake that rocked the country a little less than two weeks ago. Over 13,500 are still missing.

All over the world, people have expressed their sympathies and are trying to help in whatever way they can — donations through cash or in kind (check out Maria Celina's post on the creative ways people have been helping out), disseminating information on the different social networking sites, sending them messages, and praying for them. It's been amazing and inspiring to see people stepping out of their comfort zones and teens becoming more socially aware. It reminds me of how people mobilized after our own tragedy that was Typhoon Ketsana back in 2009 (this was what happened to our house).

But we can do better than that, I believe. We can and should do our part to make this world a better place — as unbelievably cliché as this sounds.

Because what we do now can and will affect those around us.

I don't have a Ph.D in environmental science, but I imagine that if we consumed less energy, brought our own bags to the supermarket instead of bringing home plastic bags, and disposed of trash properly, things could look up. And that's just for starters.

Google the Internet and you'll see hundreds of tips for being clean and green in fashion, in the workplace, when it comes to cleaning agents, food, and the like. There are other sites, such as this one, that list the different ways we, as individuals, can do our part.

Something I made earlier today.

I don't imagine that things will change overnight, if at all, given what man has done to Mother Earth through the centuries.

But I sincerely believe that we owe it to ourselves, our families, our neighborhood, our country and the rest of the world to try, anyway.

Day 13: A Letter to Someone Who Has Recently Hurt Me

2011-03-23T08:48:00.006+08:00

Dear You,

I wish you were a family member, a friend, a co-worker, or even someone I don't particularly like. I'd talk to you and straighten things out. I might not have the guts to do so, but at least the option to try would always be there.

Yet you aren't any of them. You aren't like anyone I know, come to think of it.

You aren't capable of empathy, or at the least, sympathy.

You only strike when I'm particularly vulnerable.

You have a penchant for catching me off-guard.

You know just what buttons to press to make me question and feel bad about myself.

Disappointment, I wish I never met you.

You are many things and you make your rounds in many ways. Sometimes, you manifest yourself to me through the people I love dearly. You cause them to say something hurtful or do something that lets me down. Other times, you take the form of situations. Like plans that don't follow through or expectations that can't be met.

Every now and then, you are thoughts that creep into my head -- What If's that might not materialize, Things That Could Have Been. There are also times when I want to slap myself silly because you can be so darn trivial. You make me want to eat Doritos bag after Doritos bag and gain 20 lbs. in one night. Or grab the person beside me and talk his/her ear's off, even if he/she isn't ready to hear me out. Or write until my hand feels paralyzed. Or pray until it feels like minutes have turned into hours.

You are failure and you are fault. You are insecurity and you are insensitivity. You are uncontrollable and most of the time, you are unfathomable.

But without you, I wouldn't be a better person.

I wouldn't be able to appreciate the good times, the people who matter most to me. I would be narrow-minded, looking at life through just one perspective. I wouldn't learn, grow and be stronger. There wouldn't be a need for God; I'd simply become too self-sufficient to the point of complacency. It is because of you that my faith is tested and my character, molded into what He wants me to be.

So at the end of it all, I have to thank you. I am better because of you and in spite of you.

(I just hope that I won't have to see you very often.)

Sincerely,
Me

Day 12: How I Found Out about Blogger and Why I Made One

2011-03-22T13:04:00.009+08:00

Flashback to the year 2002. I was a college sophomore who wanted to explore the Internet beyond e-mailing, chatting and researching. Back then, my social contacts weren't just chatting on mIRC, ICQ, Windows Messenger and Yahoo! Messenger. They were starting to write daily journal entries and express their thoughts about different topics for the world to see. The concept of writing freely for everyone's "consumption" wasn't just alien to me – it was intimidating. Especially since I've always been a shy person. (Believe me: despite my obsessive tweets, Facebook posts and sporadic blog entries, I'm actually shy in person. Or at least until I'm really comfortable talking to the people I'm with. Then you won't hear the end of it from me, I promise.)

But I digress.

Most of my friends were on Blogger at the time, so you could say that I heard about this service from them. A few tried out LiveJournal and Xanga.

Hesitantly but curiously, I signed up for a Blogger account (only because I felt that Blogger allowed me to utilize whatever HTML skills I learned from high school compared to the other blogging services). At this very moment, I have no idea what my Blogger handle and what its URL was. Frankly, I'd rather not find out. Ever. I'm pretty sure it'll be horrifying to see how I used to write (and what I used to write about) in those days.

In 2009, after blogging on LiveJournal for several years and giving Tumblr a shot for one year, I decided to go back to Blogspot. I eventually registered my own domain (this one you're reading).

It's funny how I wound up where I once started.

Day 11: Another Picture of Me and My Friends

2011-03-21T13:40:00.007+08:00

I realized that, after posting this pic, my two "post a picture of your friends" entries (the other one being this) happened to be wedding pictures. I guess it just means that my friends and I are right smack in that life stage consisting of relationships, engagements, weddings, babies and baptisms. Oh, yeah. Also of promotions, job transfers, and condo-hopping. What a scary thought.

Anyway!

The nine girls in the first and second rows of this photo (myself in dark red included) were my classmates back in high school. For some reason, back in the day, our desks were always beside each other and we were usually grouped together for activities, homework, projects and whatnot. Although we had our own barkadas or cliques (mine being this), we managed to stay close throughout high school and even beyond.

Almost a decade after our high school graduation, we got together for a swimming party and decided to call ourselves the TB (for "Table Barkada"). We can count on each other for impromptu shopping trips, movie marathons, swimming, boardgames, beach trips, pizza and chips. Most of the time, in fact, the plans that push through are the ones we don't plan.

Just like every other clique, we're all from different backgrounds (i.e. we went to different universities and we're now from different industries; we already have one TB married couple, as seen above). Unlike other high school friends, however, I'm glad that our friendship transcended our shared memories. Most high school friends get together to reminisce the good ol' days. We share laughs and exchange stories about what's happening in our lives today and what will be in the days to come.

We have our own sense of humor and more than a zillion inside jokes. We're not afraid to laugh, show our crazy sides and be complete dorks. We can eat eight pizza slices each one day and talk about makeup the next. We'll discuss plays or musicals in one breath and politics or current events later on. We're a pretty diverse, random group of friends and that's what I really like about us.

Now that I'm writing about them, I can't wait for the next TB get-together. I miss them!

Now Why'd You Have to Do That?

2011-03-18T16:50:00.011+08:00

I've been a follower of the show Criminal Minds for a while now. My fanaticism started a few years ago one Holy Week break (in the Philippines, we don't go to work the last four days leading up to Easter; instead, we contemplate its meaning and spend time with family in our hometowns). Armed with bags of chips and dip, my family and I parked ourselves in front of the TV and wondered what to watch. My dad suggested this "crime show" that he'd heard about, which none of us ever followed on TV. You can guess what we ended up watching.

Ever since, we were hooked. Until today, it remains to be one of those shows we watch together (FlashForward was another; but let's save my annoyance over the show's cancelation for another entry).

We were there when the show first said goodbye to Mandy Patinkin (I still don't think that the producers should've let go of Jason Gideon) then Lola Glaudini (who played Elle Greenaway). We gladly welcomed Paget Brewster (who played Emily Prentiss) and thought that, after a few episodes, she was a good replacement for Glaudini. Her story arc seemed interesting and she gelled with the other characters almost instantly.

Fast forward to years later. Before Season 6 premiered, I found out that they would only keep A.J. Cook for two more episodes, then it was goodbye to the media liaison known as Jennifer Jareau.

I didn't get it. Really. No one ever complained about her character being dull, boring or non-essential. In fact, it was just the opposite. I saw petition after petition, rant blog after rant blog. People were begging and practically groveling just so the CBS producers could keep "J.J." on the show.

But there was another problem. Paget Brewster's role would also be reduced within the season, paving the way for Emily Prentiss' eventual departure.

HUH.

Dropping Emily Prentiss from the BAU would be like asking the older sister in a family to leave. The BAU acted and treated each other like family. How could you get rid of one family member? Prentiss was the femme fatale in the team. She had the right combination of mystery, femininity and power. She was the older sister that Reed never had. She was the third member of the J.J.-Garcia-Prentiss triumvirate. She was Morgan's partner on the field. Hotchner and Rossi always depended on her. I couldn't imagine how the team would ever fare without her.

Alas, Season 6 progressed. After the second episode, we tearfully bade J.J. farewell, without a clue as to what A.J. Cook's next professional move was. Episodes later, a new character, Ashley Seaver (played by Rachel Nichols, who also happened to be a straight-haired blonde) was introduced. For some reason, I just couldn't see her connection with the team; except for Rossi, maybe, since he recruited her. She seemed like a poor substitute, which made me miss J.J. even more.

Midway into the season, we started to see what Emily Prentiss' past was like; it could only mean that her end was near. True enough, we say au revoir to her and to Paget Brewster in this week's episode entitled "Lauren", directed by Matthew Gray Gubler (who also plays Dr. Spencer Reed). Thankfully, they managed to bring back A.J. Cook for this episode to tie some loose ends.

Rumor has it that CBS has since given Brewster the option to return to Criminal Minds in Season 7. But rumor also has it that she has signed on to play the lead in a comedy. As to whether or not she reprises her role as Emily Prentiss, this remains to be seen.

All I know is this: I genuinely think that CBS shouldn't have let go of A.J. Cook and Paget Brewster. Their characters were essential to the team.

And, as I always say, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. It didn't seem like these two caused the show's ratings to dip. Neither were or are they experiencing financial difficulty; after all, they hired Rachel Nichols right away.

Reading viewers' comments on Brewster's final episode, "Lauren", there seems to be a unanimous vote: we ALL want J.J. and Prentiss.

Jennifer "J.J." Jareau, played by A.J. Cook (left) and Emily Prentiss, played by Paget Brewster (right). Photo nicked off Google.

CBS, if there's a way to still fix things, I hope that you do. Bring back both actresses. Please.

Or await a dip in ratings.

I don't need to be an FBI profiler to foresee this happening.

Day 10: Songs That I Listen To When I'm...

2011-03-15T17:03:00.005+08:00

I'm not, by anyone's standards, a go-to person when it comes to music. I'm not familiar with many indie bands, I don't go to that many concerts.

I watch American Idol and Glee.

Have I made my point clear? Yeah, I think so.

So when it comes to my song selections for my different moods, I don't really have a range or a specific genre. In fact, my song choices aren't always dependent on my mood. Most of the time, in fact, I let my iTunes play on shuffle mode.

I don't pick certain songs; I listen to playlists by artist. So here are some of the playlists that I listen to when I'm feeling...

HAPPY AND HYPER:

- My Disney playlist

- Anything from the 90's (I have a playlist containing 50 songs that my high school class and I always listened to and sang)

- Songs from the likes of Maroon 5

- Any of the songs from Glee

SAD AND BORED (and in dire need of a waker-upper):

- OK Go's "Of The Blue Colour"

- Lykke Li's "Youth Novel"

- KT Tunstall's "Drastic Fantastic"

- My praise songs playlist (with songs from Hillsong, Don Moen, Israel & New Breed, Lakewood Church, etc.)

MAD:

- Basically, anything alternative or rock, i.e. Radiohead, Incubus

When it comes to people who are infinitely more music-literate, check out Reggie, Carina, Helga, Tia, Maria Celina and Mara, to name a few.

How to be the Eldest

2011-03-15T16:41:00.008+08:00

Here's a long-overdue entry that I once thought of writing when I compared life as the eldest child in my family to my friends' (who are also the eldest in their families). This was born from my experiences as a teen and now as an older sister to young adults and a teenager.

I finally decided to finish and post it.

Tada!

********************

Dear Eldest Child,

With great power comes great responsibility. According to Spiderman, at least.

But it's true, dear Eldest. You do possess a certain kind of power, whether you're a boy or a girl. You were the one your parents loved first. You were the one your aunts, uncles and grandparents spoiled first. You were the one whose birth was the most documented. You were the one who had the finest clothes and never had to experience the Hand Me Down Syndrome. You were the one who attended and took part in every conceivable activity known to childhood because your parents were so excited to have you in their life.

However, you are also held responsible for so many things precisely because you are your parents' firstborn. All of their successes and failures in parenting went through you so they expect that out of all of their children, you should've learned the most. In certain situations, they expect you to act like the third parent in the household; that you pay certain bills, go grocery shopping, run the house when they're not around and play referee to your younger siblings. When crises hit the family, oftentimes, you end up being the scapegoat of your parents because they know you can take it -- even if, most of the time, you don't deserve it. When your parents fight, you end up being the middleman or woman even if it's impossible to choose sides. If you're a girl, they expect you to be the second mom of the house: able to cook, change your siblings' diapers and help them with their homework. If you're a boy, they expect you to drive them around (especially when errands are involved) and act as your siblings' defender when they run into trouble (this also means being the watchdog of anything provocative that they might wear).

Don't take it personally if your parents are extra hard on you; after all, they invested in you first. Don't also feel bad when you compare how strict they might have been when you were a teenager to how lax they are now that your siblings are teenagers. They've learned how to loosen up as they went from one child to another.

Here are five truths, if you may, that helped me go through the firstborn life. Hopefully they'll help you, too, if you are also the eldest child in your own family or if you want to advice your own firstborns.

1) OPEN UP

Your parents want to address you as a peer of theirs, someone on the same level as them. When they discuss serious matters, such as your studies, boy-girl issues, career opportunities, future plans, and other concerns, give them the same honesty and openness that you would give your friends. Your parents expect that of you and you should prove your trustworthiness by being as transparent as they are.

2) TAKE RESPONSIBILITY

Without your parents having to tell you what to do, take the initiative. Volunteer to pay the phone bill. Text your sibling/s to make sure everyone's home at a certain time. Accompany your mom to the supermarket. Tell your dad that you'll clean the car for him. Think of these as opportunities to show your independence and at the same time, that they can depend on you.

3) DON'T "ABUSE" YOUR PRIVILEGES

Just because you were the first in line for everything once upon a time, it doesn't mean that you're necessarily the apple of everyone's eye until now. Your parents, uncles and aunts, and grandparents shouldn't bequeath the newest iPad, cellphone or laptop to you over your equally deserving younger siblings or cousins. Your birthright shouldn't be the be-all and end-all of everything.

4) SOMETIMES, YOUR PARENTS WILL ACT LIKE KIDS AND YOU'LL HAVE TO STEP IN AND BE THE ADULT

"Tell your mom that she's being too demanding," your dad will say. "Tell your dad that he's being unreasonable," your mom will retort. Such is that delicate balance of policing your parents. You'll have to act adult enough for them to see both sides without overstepping your role as their child. You'll have to be objective enough without taking anyone's side. Remember in this tricky situation to be calm and to control your temper. After all, your parents are only human, too.

5) REVEL IN YOUR FIRSTBORN-NESS

When the going gets tough, when so much is demanded of you, remember that you're the eldest for a good reason. At the end of the day, you experienced your parents' love, care and attention longer than your siblings have. Your parents look at you differently; not just as someone they trust and depend on but someone who possesses a special place in their heart. You were the byproduct of their young love once upon a time, the one who transitioned with them throughout all their life stages.

One day, when you have your own firstborn, you'll finally and fully understand just how special you are in the eyes of your parents.

Day 9: Something I'm Proud Of In the Past Few Days

2011-03-09T15:14:00.007+08:00

Hello, Blogosphere! I'm back from my unintended hiatus once again and ready to resume the 30-Day Blog Challenge. Even if I'm probably the most irregular blog challenger on the planet.

As mentioned in my previous post, I ended February and began March in Bangkok, Thailand. I had the opportunity to do some post-production work there.

Talk about timing, really, since this trip is also what I'm most proud of these past few days. I'm blessed to have a job that not only challenges, fulfills, and excites me, but traveling happens to be one of its perks. These last few years, I've flown out of the country several times for an advertising competition, regional brainstorming workshops and TV shoots but this time, I got to witness how a foreign production house collaborated with us as they color graded, edited and animated some pretty technical computer graphics.

Plus, the Thai people are incredibly easy to work with and their work ethics are admirable.

I can't wait for the next business "venture" abroad. Hopefully there will be another one in the near future.

Birthday Blog: Year 2011

2011-02-24T10:59:00.006+08:00

I am really, undeniably in my late twenties now. The thought of this kills me. But to tell you the truth, most of the time, I feel like I was fifteen years old just yesterday; spying on my neighbor-enemies with friends, doing Leo DiCaprio movie marathons, hanging out after swim practice, and making my weekends revolve around going to my kabarkadas’ houses.

I wish I were still fifteen. Or twenty. Or even twenty-five. I wish that I could spend more than I saved, that I didn’t have to worry about insurance or thinking about investing in a condo unit. I wish that my biggest worries could still be whether or not I aced this test or got exempted from a final exam. Heck, sometimes, there’s that part of me that still hopes that work gets called off whenever it rains; the way classes were suspended when I was still a student.

I always have mixed feelings about turning a year older. On the one hand, there’s excitement about what the next year will bring. On the other hand, there’s sadness knowing that I’ve aged just a bit; that I’ll be closer to thirty and embracing not just more responsibilities but expectations that I need to meet.

In many ways, I still don’t act my age; if you go by the world’s standards, at least. I’m not married; neither am I a mom. I still live at home (though this is something I’ll probably have to work on sometime in the near future; the need to give independence a try). I don’t have my own car either. I have life insurance, though. Yay, me?

But I can say that even if I’m nowhere near what a late twenties individual is supposed to achieve or possess, I have my own successes. Uniquely, undeniably, undoubtedly mine. By God’s grace, I’ve accomplished things that have made me feel blessed and I’m surrounded by people who constantly motivate and encourage me; they all accept me despite my numerous quirks and shortcomings.

So here’s to another year on this planet. Thank You, Lord for getting me this far and I look forward to another year of growing in Your grace.

Thank You also to everyone who’s been a part of my journey. Know that you are deeply appreciated. I thank God for you.

Happy birthday, Self! Let’s make this next year count.

Day 8: Short-Term Goals for the Month

2011-02-23T09:21:00.005+08:00

I've been a 30-day challenge blogger failure and my supposed daily posts just aren't happening. Work's been pretty crazy and I've been away from the office more than in it.

But I'm not giving up on this challenge. I'm going to complete all thirty entries, even if I can't blog every day.

Day 8 is about short-term goals for this month; a month that ends in roughly five days, so unless I can magically slow down time, I should write about March instead.

For March, these are some of the goals that I should stick to:

Find time to celebrate my birthday (albeit belatedly) with friends
Get back to exercising more regularly, if my schedule lets me breathe
Join at least one organized biking event
Continue paying off my SLR (bought on installment basis)
Pay for my first quarter insurance
Take more photos (and not of the vain, pose-and-click sort)
Submit feature article for spark.ph
Look for places to visit this summer and make reservations, if possible

I won't be around for the first week of March (I'll be in Bangkok for work) so once I get back, I have three weeks to make my March matter.

These goals aren't anything spectacular, really. Just simple ones that will hopefully kick off an awesome summer for 2011.

Day 7: A Picture of Someone/Something That Has Had the Biggest Impact on You

2011-02-14T09:04:00.008+08:00

Without a doubt, my parents are my life's greatest inspirations.

Being their eldest child, I've seen them through all their ups and downs as a couple. When they first started out, both were working; my mom eventually resigned from the corporate world after she had Chuck, three years after I was born. (Eventually, she went back to work in the academic setting after my youngest brother, CJ, enrolled in Prep as a student in that school.) Our family welcomed a sister, Cooky (four years after Chuck was born), then CJ (six years after Cooky was born). They've supported us, their kids, in all our endeavors — countless swim meets, dance recitals, gigs, performances, honors assemblies, art exhibits, student council elections, and everything under the sun. They instilled in us not just a set of values but also a love for reading, dogs, and sports; and the simple joys of being at home.

More importantly, they were the ones who introduced us to Christ. It was through them that Chuck and I, as Sunday School-aged kids, grew up in the Christian faith; our two other two siblings were already born into this faith. I'd like to think that our family is the way it is today because of this.

Coincidentally, it's not only Valentine's Day; it's my dad's birthday, too. My dad is the reason I'm a bookaholic (we share the same taste in books), a grammar Nazi (he was more brutal than my college professors ever were when it came to correcting my papers), my partner-in-crime when it comes to dogs (we got Cassie, our choco Lab, the weekend my mom was in Davao), the one who knows that I need a bag of Doritos whenever I feel down, and the best TV buddy to hang out with on weekends. Happy birthday to the family's Valentine!

Day 6: Favorite Superhero and Why

2011-02-13T10:58:00.009+08:00

Even though I grew up with a dad, brother and cousin who followed the Marvel and DC superheroes series, I never really attached myself to one particular superhero. My own superheroes would have to be my favorite Disney characters, in all honesty. They inspired me and taught me valuable life lessons.

But since we're talking about people (or non-people) who possess extraordinary powers, then my favorite superhero would have to be Superman.

I've always liked his (rather, Clark Kent's) story. A baby sent to Earth from the planet Krypton, who grows up with farmer parents Jonathan and Martha Kent. As he gets older, he realizes that he possesses superpowers. Then he decides to use that power to help humanity. While posing as a wannabe journalist in The Daily Planet, Clark Kent is on the lookout for danger. A quick costume change in a telephone booth (into tightie redies, a blue body suit, red boots and that iconic red cape of his) and he's off to save the world, one bad guy at a time. His numero uno archenemy is mad scientist Lex Luthor who tries to find ways to bring Superman down. It goes without saying that Superman has a weakness (kryptonite) and love interests (Lana Lang and Louis Lane, to name a few; alliterations, much?).

I used to watch Smallville (mostly for Tom Welling, to be perfectly honest) and, now that I think about it, even Lois & Clark back in the day. I was interested in the double life that Clark Kent led (similar to Spiderman's Peter Parker) and the daily dangers he faced.

What I like about Clark Kent are his humble beginnings, the way he doted on his earthly parents, and his humanity, despite his otherworldliness. He had human struggles, a clear-cut symbol of his weakness, and he rallied for the world's salvation. He was that guy next door, except he possessed enough power to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, if he wanted to.

I actually felt really bad when I found out that he died (my brother bought the 1992 comic, The Death of Superman, and I just had to read it) and my heart broke for Lois Lane when I saw this particular scene:

I don't know if things have transpired since this installment, though (Stan Lee geeks, kindly enlighten me). But for closure's sake, I'd like to think that things ended this way.

Boo, you, Doomsday.

Day 5: A Picture of Somewhere I've Been To

2011-02-09T09:28:00.001+08:00

I decided to post a photo of my most recent trip. Two months ago, my family and I got to visit Singapore. This photo was from our day trip to Universal Studios in Sentosa. Since my siblings and I still haven't gone outside of Asia (see item no. 14), we were stoked as soon as we saw that giant globe. I'm sure Singapore's Universal is a hundred times smaller than the one in the US, but we didn't care. We rode as many rides as we could (even if the waiting times outside the likes of the Jurassic Park and The Mummy rides were two hours each) and saw as many shows as possible. We had a blast.

Within Singapore City, we shopped (Cotton On, we love you dearly; equally beloved is Singapore's much larger Forever21, compared to Manila's), dined (Marché is one memorable gastronomic experience), walked, talked and slept. I enjoyed being in a place inhabited by so many cultures and languages. The clean air, the sight of almost non-existent trash, the efficient transport system and the accommodating people made our stay an enjoyable one.

'Til the next trip!

Day 4: A Habit That I Wish I Didn't Have

2011-02-07T07:26:00.004+08:00

It's relatively easy for me to hide behind the "I'm a creative person" excuse, just so I wouldn't have to call this a bad habit. But really, this is something I've struggled with my entire life.

It's called PROCRASTINATION. And, sadly, I've gotten good at it.

When I was still a student, I'd study for quizzes and exams if not the day before, then just hours before. I would rationalize and say that I work best under pressure (which is also true). If I studied in advance, then there wouldn't be much of a challenge for me.

Today, I still operate the same way. When I'm given a deadline (i.e. one week), I absorb what's needed to be done for around two days. On the third day, I start coming up with initial ideas. I fine-tune them on the fourth and fifth days. On the sixth day, I work with my art director to clean up everything. On the seventh day, I'm ready to present. In the meantime, my other officemates in Creatives start spewing out initial ideas minutes after being briefed.

Sometimes, when I still don't feel like stressing out, I do anything but work. I go on Facebook, check out people's tweets and if there's enough time (i.e. over lunch), I video-surf. Since I'm an early bird every morning, I usually have time to watch any of my shows.

I know that I should work on actually doing and not delaying, but I don't really know how to go about it. When I have a deadline to meet, I can still manage to allot time for every project and "idle" undertaking; yes, I'm talking about Facebook, Twitter, and the likes of YouTube. These so-called distractions actually help me focus when it's crunch time.

It's not a conventional method, I know, but it seems to work for me. Believe it or not.

Day 3: A Picture of Me and My Friends

2011-02-05T10:06:00.005+08:00

When I'm asked to write about or upload a picture of my friends, what will always be top of mind are my CLINCR girls. We've been friends since we were in grade school, long before boys and the drama of adolescence entered the picture.

We all went to different colleges and have since entered different working environments (two of us are in advertising, one's a banker and is based in Hong Kong, one's an IT consultant, one's an entrepreneur and one's a teacher), and we're all at different life stages (one of us is already married and five of us are godparents to the first CLINCR toddler). But in spite of these differences, our friendship is stronger than ever.

Coincidentally, I'm seeing them for lunch later (our first time to be complete since this photo was taken back in November) and I can't wait. It'll be great to catch up with everyone again, especially since we're all so busy or elsewhere!

Day 2: The Meaning Behind My Blogger Name

2011-02-04T09:49:00.003+08:00

Now that I have my own blog domain, I changed my previous Blogger handle to Tina Araneta. Which is my name and therefore requires no backgrounder.

Prior to that, however, my Blogger handle was Shutterbug. This was because I originally intended to use this blog purely for photography. However, as you can tell, it has since evolved into a personal-slash-photography-slash-review-slash-confused blog. Very much a reflection of my thought patterns.

But I hope that this blog will eventually live up to its name and that I'll be able to focus on photography again.

Day 1: A Recent Picture of Me & 15 Interesting Facts About Myself

2011-02-03T11:18:00.007+08:00

I took this Instagram photo yesterday since I was at a shoot and my laptop bag happened to be clapboard-designed. Pretty apt, don't you think?

So here's the part where I pretend to be interesting and write down fifteen things that you probably don't know (or already know) about me:

I have two given names: "Cristina" came from my dad's sister who died before I was born; "Margarita" was my maternal grandmother's name.
I was the classic guinea pig eldest child and joined every summer workshop created for kids. I was enrolled in art, baking, ballet, drawing and piano classes and took up swimming, golf, badminton, soccer, basketball, gymnastics and martial arts. My summers were never boring.
I was a competitive swimmer from the age of nine until my junior year of high school. Today, I try to swim on weekends (when it's not too cold) as a form of exercise.
I'm also pretty flexible (thanks to my gymnastics background) so I can still do backbends, cartwheels and splits.
I started reading at the age of two.
Physically, however, I was a late bloomer. I officially "became" a woman at the ripe old age of fourteen, much to my friends' horror.
I've never smoked a cigarette and don't ever intend to. Same goes for trying any kind of illegal drugs.
I don't have any vices but I'm a huge fan of nacho cheese chips and sour cream dip. They're what I binge on when I'm stressed and/or feeling down.
I am still waiting for my God's Best. I'm pretty sure that, in time, God will lead me to him. Until then, I'm busy making the most of my single-hood.
Last year, I got into biking (i.e. trail biking and road biking) and I'm addicted to it.
I'm a Communication graduate (focusing mainly on advertising and public relations) and I have a second degree in Hispanic Studies. I used to be fluent in Spanish back in college but since I don't get to practice speaking it, I'm pretty rusty nowadays.
My favorite literary genre is historical fiction.
I'm an advertising copywriter by profession and do photography for leisure.
I have never traveled outside of Asia. This has to change within the next two to three years.
I am a Bible-believing Evangelical Christian, saved by grace through faith.

One down, twenty-nine left!

30 Days of Going Blog-Crazy

2011-02-03T11:08:00.003+08:00

Hello, blogosphere!

It's February, my birthday month and That Month of Love Which Most Single People Dread. But I'm all about giving February nothing but good vibes, which I hope will spill over to the next few months.

In line with this, I'm about to embark on a 30-day blog challenge, as inspired by Mara. I need something to give this blog a creative boost, seriously.

So, here's how the challenge goes. After looking for a Blogger-appropriate 30-day challenge (I found one here), I decided to start writing.

Here are what I'll be writing about the next month or so:

•Day 01- A recent picture of you and 15 interesting facts about yourself
•Day 02- The meaning behind your Blogger name
•Day 03- A picture of you and your friends
•Day 04- A habit that you wish you didn’t have
•Day 05- A picture of somewhere you’ve been to
•Day 06- Favorite super hero and why
•Day 07- A picture of someone/something that has the biggest impact on you
•Day 08- Short term goals for this month and why
•Day 09- Something you’re proud of in the past few days
•Day 10- Songs you listen to when you are Happy, Sad, Bored, Hyped, Mad
•Day 11- Another picture of you and your friends
•Day 12- How you found out about Blogger and why you made one
•Day 13- A letter to someone who has hurt you recently
•Day 14- A picture of you and your family
•Day 15- Put your iPod on shuffle: First 10 songs that play
•Day 16- Another picture of yourself (baby pic!)
•Day 17- Someone you would want to switch lives with for one day and why
•Day 18- Plans/dreams/goals you have
•Day 19- Nicknames you have; why do you have them
•Day 20- Someone you see yourself marrying/being with in the future
•Day 21- A picture of something that makes you happy
•Day 22- What makes you different from everyone else
•Day 23- Something you crave for a lot
•Day 24- A letter to your parents
•Day 25- What I would find in your bag
•Day 26- What you think about your friends
•Day 27- Why are you doing this 30 day challenge
•Day 28- A picture of you last year and now, how have you changed since then?
•Day 29- In this past month, what have you learned
•Day 30- Who are you?

I guess today qualifies as Day 01. Which means that I'll be making another post within the day. Go, me!

10 Lessons Learned the Ruff Way

2011-01-31T20:21:00.006+08:00

Because my officemate wrote about her cat experience, I decided to write what I learned from having a dog for years.

Enjoy!

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Disclaimer: This was written not by a dog behaviorist, veterinarian, or animal trainer, but by someone who's owned and loved dogs for many years; someone who's cleaned dog poop with her bare hands, had blisters from running after a dog on a leash, helped replant sections of the garden that had been de-planted, became a mama dog's Lamaze partner, cried when a furry friend died, rejoiced at the arrival of another, and blogged about/Facebooked/Tweeted about their antics.

1) Life is not fair.

You toss a piece of bread this way, intending to give it to Dog A. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Dog B leaps into the air, opens his mouth, and in goes that piece of bread. Dog A doesn't have time to mourn over the injustice of it all. Instead, with determination, he looks up at you with those big, brown eyes, coaxing you into giving him another.

You may want something so bad that when it's taken from you, you throw yourself a pity party. But just learn from our furry friends. Stop mourning. Start doing.

2) When you do something wrong, wait a bit, then come back and say sorry.

You come home after a long day of work and you see that your garden isn't what it looked like just hours ago. All your plants are uprooted, soil is scattered everywhere. You wonder where Snoopy went. He's nowhere in sight.

You call for him with an angry tone and all the more you can't find him. It's like he's disappeared into the Hole of Oblivion of Guilty Dogs.

Frustrated with the search, you give up. You sit down on the sofa, down a glass of water, and calm down. Suddenly, Snoopy appears with brown stains all over his paws. Slowly, tentatively, he approaches you, his eyes sadder than the most miserable teenager on earth. But because you have already calmed down, you can't find it in you to get riled up once more.

So when you've wronged someone, don't mess things up even more by being in his or her way. Give him or her time to calm down, collect himself/herself, then apologize. And look like you mean it.

3) Routine is sometimes a good thing.

We complain that monotony is boring. But without monotony, there would be anarchy.

Without routine, your housebroken pup wouldn't have been able to master peeing and/or pooping at 6:30 am, 9:00 am, 12:30 pm, 3:30 pm, and 7:30 pm. Without walking your dog at the stroke of four in the afternoon daily, he'd be restless, bored, and aggressive.

Without routine, imagine how erratic or unpredictable your sleeping patterns would be? Imagine waking up for work at different times, only to face different kinds of traffic, then to log in at different times?

Without routine, I wonder what kind of bowel movement we'd have. On second thought, I'd rather not wonder.

Stop hating on routine. Learn to appreciate it. Maybe even love it.

4) Obey without complaining.

"Sit, Max!" you say, expecting the dog's rump to hit the floor within seconds. Do you hear him complain?

Okay, fine. He doesn't speak human. But he doesn't howl and whine either, does he? As insane and repetitive as the command is, he will sit. Even if the floor is cold. Even if the dust hasn't been swept. He will sit.

So the next time your mom tells you to get a glass of water, just get it. The energy you'd otherwise spend when you complain should just be channeled towards propelling your legs to move and get that glass of water. Obeying without complaining will save you from experiencing physical and emotional stress in the long run. Seriously.

5) When someone's overstepping, let him know.

My Labrador, Shadow, never seems to run out of pee. He'll pee on every conceivable tire, lamppost, hydrant, bush, or wall. But that's because he wants everything to be part of his turf.

So when he comes across dogs that cross his path (aside from our other two dogs, Cassie and Buddy), he growls. He'll let that other dog know that he crossed that invisible line.

Next time someone says something below the belt, call him out. If you feel that someone's invaded your personal space, tell him or her. Don't be afraid to set boundaries and to let people know about it. I'm sure they'd want you to respect their feelings or space as well.

6) There is order in hierarchy. Follow the Alpha.

For the most part, we aren't submissive beings. We question the system and rebel. We cry, "Democracy!" when we feel that we're being repressed.

Dogs do no such thing. In a pack, the Alpha Male (or Female) is King (or Queen). What the Alpha says, goes. The Alpha gets to eat and be pet first. If anyone dares challenge him, he'll literally be the underdog as the rest of the pack will side with the Alpha.

While questioning the system is good and healthy, we can't always rebel. Without this natural order, there would be chaos. Respect and listen to your teachers, bosses and elders. In time, you will be the Alpha Male or Female anyway. Just wait it out.

7) Be transparent; growl when you're mad, wag your tail when you're happy.

Dogs don't know a thing about being plastic or hypocritical. I've never seen a dog that hated a tummy rub but acted like he loved it. I've never seen a dog pretend that he didn't want to eat, only to gobble an entire bowl of dog food an hour later. Whatever he feels, he shows it.

So if someone annoyed you, tell him or her. Stop going around and acting like he or she is the best thing that ever happened to friendship. Don't hide behind that fake smile. Growl or even bite, if you must. On the other hand, if someone has lifted your spirits, thank him or her. Wag that tail of yours!

8) Don't be fooled by looks.

After eight long weeks, you can finally take home that puppy you'd been waiting for and dreaming of. You go to the breeder's home and are greeted by squirming, furry, adorable, to-die-for puppies. Naturally, you gravitate towards the cutest, most charming, friendliest one.

Weeks later, your once cute puppy somehow metamorphosed into this gangly, unruly, un-everything puppy. Then you find out that its sibling, the runt of the litter, won ribbon after ribbon in every dog show it has joined.

Don't let looks deceive you. The hot guy you've set your eyes on may actually be a jerk or a player. The fashionable snotty It Girl could be treating you like dirt because she's either jealous of you or insecure. Be wary of how you judge people based on their looks.

9) Forgive and forget.

A dog holds no grudges. Even if you forget to walk him today, he'll still love you 100%. Even if your punishing methods are barbaric by his standards (i.e. rubbing his nose into a pile of his own poop), he'll want to play fetch with you within minutes. Even if you've chained him up all afternoon, leaving him alone and feeling extremely lonely, the second you get home, all is well. The spark has returned to his eyes, and he'll give you nothing short of unadulterated adoration and love.

We take mental notes of how many times we were hurt. We seek revenge on our enemies, even for the pettiest of injustices. If our furry friends, whose intelligence is supposedly inferior to ours, can let go of past hurts, we should do the same.

10) Life is short, so live it to the full.

A dog's lifetime is but a fraction of ours, but every second of it is spent with joy. Blackie eats like there's no tomorrow, plays every game of catch as if it's the coolest thing on the planet, rolls over for tummy tickle time as if things couldn't get any better. He seizes each moment and makes the most of it.

We should be thankful that our lifespans are longer and that we can enjoy its fruits so much more. Let's not waste it by wallowing in self-pity, by holding a grudge or by exacting revenge. May each moment, experience, or person who comes into our lives enrich our time here on earth.

My senior Lab, Shadow.

My choco girl, Cassie.

My still-growing baby, Buddy.

Much Ado About a Foot Problem

2011-01-20T13:49:00.006+08:00

January 2011 has been an interesting month (so far). I got a new camera, had nothing to do at work for a few days, then work suddenly came pouring in. Our church also observed a week of prayer and fasting, which gave me a much-needed spiritual boost. I also discovered a pizza joint near my house which took pride in their 36-inch pizzas (I couldn't believe that such a thing existed 'til I came face to face with one).

January has also been therapy month for me.

Exactly a year ago, I managed to injure my left foot either by walking too much or by wearing the wrong shoes. All I knew was that the arch of my foot hurt so much and that it was a different kind of ache. It wasn't a sprain for sure. The diagnosis? Posterior Tibial Tendon Dysfunction, or adult flat-footedness, in other words. The arch of my left foot wasn't quite what it used to be (which was really high, according to my pediatricians when I was a kid). I had to keep my foot wrapped for almost a month and do home therapy.

The pain came back towards the end of December 2010 and I found myself at another doctor's clinic and getting the same diagnosis. Back to wraps I went!

Since my foot condition's repeat performance, I've been conscious of the kind of shoes I wear (avoiding all forms of heels so far and wearing sneakers with foot arch inserts majority of the time). I've also made sure to stretch my legs as much as I can and avoid walking or standing for long periods of time, lest I feel a throbbing sensation throughout my entire left foot. You wouldn't want to know how bad that feels.

Thankfully, the home exercises seem to be working and I haven't felt any kind of pain these last few days. I'm hoping that this is a good sign as I need to be in heels this Saturday (yikes!) for a wedding.

Also, I really need to get better because I haven't biked in so long. It's sad.

Having a condition like this can get discouraging at times, especially when I think about how I'll have to live with it. But I'm reminded to be thankful when I realize that I'm on the road to recovery; that I can actually do something about it and feel better.

I guess I just can't afford to wear my fashionista hat (not that I am one) when I have to walk for long stretches of time. Like when I go shopping in another country.

Goodbye, sandals. Goodbye, flats. Goodbye, boots.

Hello to more of you, Converse!

A Latecomer

2011-01-06T13:06:00.012+08:00

Usually, I try to be updated when it comes to anything gadget- or techie-related. But I didn't really pay attention to people whenever they would link their tweets to a URL that ended with instagr.am. Until I finally clicked on my friend Carina's tweet and saw her link.

I've heard of and downloaded a bunch of iPhone photography apps (I mentioned two of them here) but Instagram was the first photosharing app that actually caught my eye.

So I signed up for an account and almost immediately went on a clicking spree.

Here are some of the photos I've taken using the app:

Yesterday's sunset (view from my office) a la Polaroid

No longer Christmas; the spot where our Christmas tree used to be

My keyboard waiting for my brain to work

Le outfit du jour

My art director brought out a plate of treats for us to munch on this morning
Basically, I love how Instagram combines two geeky things which I happen to love: my iPhone and photography.
So... what should my next subject be?

Happiness Comes Spontaneously

2011-01-04T11:47:00.006+08:00

2010: A Look Back

2011-01-03T17:13:00.004+08:00

2010 was a year of:

growing older but wiser
saying hello to a foot injury
endless food trips with family, friends and co-workers
starting Saturdate traditions
meeting a Disney-Pixar animator who gave a talk at Lowe and signed our Dug stuffed toy and book and Ratatouille DVD
going places in the country and out of it with family and friends
gaining a new furry family member and meeting Golden-loving friends along the way
discovering the joys of healthy living
rekindling my love for biking, meeting like-minded friends, and joining organized biking events
climbing up the copywriting ladder
more shoots and productions
overtimes made more fun with the help of great company and a not-too-serious, light working environment
experiencing the high of a three-peat championship
joining the World Cup hype, being part of Spain's first-ever victory, Paul the Octopus, and cheering on the Azkals in the AFF Suzuki Cup
witnessing two good friends tie the knot and dive into marital bliss
saying hi and bye to people who come and go
more reading and writing; more films and television fandoms
seeing new leaders take the floor of our Philippine government
national crises and a sprinkling of faux pas
learning une langue nouvelle et belle
dorkiness and ka-jologan
trying on light brown highlights and realizing that my natural ash brown shade still looks better on me
a few shed tears but 100 times more laughter
moments captured on camera
concerts, plays and musicals
social networking marvels
discoveries and blessings
opportunities to serve Him through writing and creative output
God's presence, day-by-day mercies and endless grace

Thank You, Lord, for making my 2010 a purposeful, fun-filled and exciting year. I pray for more opportunities to be a blessing to others in the year to come.

Thank you, whoever you are reading this, for being part of my 2010; in big ways or small ways. I pray that your 2011 will be another year filled with blessings, love and tons of laughter.

Ways in Which the 2010 Holidays Rocked

2011-01-03T13:57:00.010+08:00

I got to see my best girls for a Chinese-themed Christmas dinner.

I got to spend time with my family for days on end.

My EOS 300D miraculously (then again, isn't Christmas about miracles, too?) came back to life and I got to take some photos with it.

I got to eat lots of different kinds of food, too.

I was able to get out of the country for a while.

And I ushered in the new year with a surprise purchase by my best friend and her family. They got me the EOS T1i while they were in Hong Kong over the holidays. (I've yet to pay them back for it though, but still. It's mine!)

Finally, the long overdue upgrade happened. It was about time.

God is good. Truly!

I hope you had a great Christmas and New Year's celebration. Let's make 2011 a purposeful and productive year.

'Tis the Season Also for Wishful Thinking

2010-12-14T09:34:00.006+08:00

Now before you get the idea that I'm materialistic, greedy and selfish, let me tell you this already: a part of me can really get materialistic, greedy and selfish.

I do like clothes. I do like shoes. But most of all I love gadgets. I love anything Steve Jobs makes and I'm a total Canon enthusiast when it comes to photography.

But I'm also practical. I try to spend within my means and set aside whatever I can for future expenses, needs and hopefully, for traveling. I also enjoy sharing what I can with my family and friends because I derive even more satisfaction when I can make them happy. Really.

Yet there's a part of me that will always wish for things I can't have and for things I can't buy at the moment due to other priorities. These are what top my list at the moment.

Introducing -- The Ultimate Tina Christmas Wishlist of Twenty-Ten:

1) Canon EOS 550D digital SLR. As mentioned in an earlier post, my jurassic EOS 300D decided to retire when I really needed it to deliver. As such, I've been deprived of dSLR usage for a month now. These last five years, I've gotten so used to lugging around six to ten pounds' worth of equipment to shoots, events, get-togethers with friends and family. Now, I feel completely useless. I'm itching to hear the click of the shutter, to press my eye against a viewfinder, to compose a shot and to capture a moment. As much as I've enjoyed trying to compensate with my Canon G9 (which is a pretty decent piece of machinery, I might add), it will never replace what an SLR can do. I need one, and I need it soon.

2) A black leather bag. I generally use large bags because I usually bring my entire life with me wherever I go. My bags carry, on a daily basis, a digital camera (usually my Powershot for whenever I need to document my day), my girly kit (consisting of my makeup, back-up jewelry, a brush, powder, extra pins and hair accessories), my wallet, my iPod and phones, pen and paper, sometimes a pocketbook, a foldable umbrella, my eyeglasses and sunglasses. I usually stick to brown or earthy-colored bags, but I'd like to have a really sturdy but fashionable black leather bag. One that I can use to work, on weekends and even at night. I'm not particular about brands, but if it looks good and will last me at least one full year without fraying, snapping, or tearing, then I'm a happy camper.

3) Black pumps. A girl can never tire of a good pair of black heels, right?

4) A BlackBerry Javelin 8900 (or a Bold 9700?) or an iPhone 4. Currently, I use outdated phones: a hand-me-down BlackBerry 8320 and an iPhone 3G. While I love both phones, they slow down and hang on occasion, which means having to restart on an almost daily basis. I really wouldn't mind a new BlackBerry unit or an iPhone 4, really. But these, I can save up for. Maybe next year.

5) Makeup. Now that I'm more exposed to makeup, fashion and whatnot, I realize the value of branded makeup. I'd love new lipstick, eyeshadow, bronzers and foundation. Even nail polish would be great. I never get to prioritize makeup when it comes to shopping, unfortunately. I usually end up buying books first; clothes, jewelry or bags next; and gadgets when I've saved enough to afford one. So girly of me, I know.

6) Time for a DVD marathon. This December has been insane and I had to cram all my Christmas shopping (for family, friends, godkids, and officemates) in one day. Thankfully, I managed to do just that, but I haven't had time for myself. If I did, I'd do a DVD marathon of Bones, the series I've recently gotten into, and my other favorite shows. Give me a full weekend in front of the TV, a bag of chips and dip, and I'll love you for life.

7) Shorts. Recently, I've been wearing trendy shorts with sandals and boots on occasion, with long shirts tucked in or hanging loosely. I would love more of them to wear on weekends, to friends' houses, to lunches out, or for malling.

8) Fully Booked gift certificates. I usually buy myself a new book at least every other weekend. If I had gift certificates on hand, I'd be the happiest bookworm alive and my bookshelf will love you forever.

9) A Canon EOS 70-200 f/2.8 L IS lens. This lens has been on my wishlist since I first started using my Canon EOS 300D. As you can figure out, I haven't bought one yet. I don't know when I'll actually have the funds for one since it costs almost as much as a secondhand car, but I'm keeping this one on the list just to motivate me to work for it.

10) A plane ticket to anywhere in the world. Preferably Paris, Barcelona, New York or Toronto (to visit my relatives there). Traveling is love. You can't say no to that. So yes, I'm dreaming of the Louvre, sampling Grùyere or Emmental cheese in France's sidestreet markets; jamón serrano, tapas y sangria in Spain; Broadway, Central Park and everything about New York; the quaint Toronto life with my loved ones. I pray that someday, hopefully in the very near future, one of these places might just be made real to me.

In the meantime, I have to pop my dream bubble and come back to reality. Maybe this Christmas, I'll be able to make someone's wish come true instead.

A joyous Season to you, Dear Reader! May our good Lord bless you and your home a thousandfold!

Thank You

2010-11-26T15:02:00.006+08:00

In the United States just a few hours ago, everyone brought out their own stuffed turkeys, ate 'til they couldn't breathe, and reveled in the warmth of friends and family.

After all, it was Thanksgiving. A tradition that makes North America uniquely North America.

And while Filipinos don't normally celebrate the occasion (I know of some families who do, though; especially those of American ancestry), I do like the spirit behind the season. It's always nice to reflect on the things you can be thankful for.

With that, I'd like to celebrate Thanksgiving in my own little way with this post.

I am thankful for...

1) Family. Without the five other people who make up my immediate family, I would be lost. I can't imagine life without the guidance of my parents. I also can't imagine what life would be like if we didn't treat or relate to each other the way we do now. I not only look up to and respect my parents; they're my friends. I tell them the stupid things that I've said or done in a day, rant or rave about work, approach them if I have a problem, or take them out for breakfast. I also love my younger siblings dearly (I'm the eldest of four) and we're all close. My relationships with each sibling varies, but it's really great that I can just go to their rooms without having to knock or pop in a DVD of FRIENDS and laugh with them. I'm also thankful for my extended family. Both sides, my mom's and my dad's, are a crazy bunch, and I always enjoy their company. I really miss the ones who live in other parts of the world.

2) Friends. As my last post would show, I'm blessed by the people who've graced my life. I have several "groups" of friends from different life stages and they're all amazing. I may not be the party animal who wins friends over in an instant, but the few friends that I do have are the ones who will always matter. Thank you for choosing to be the friend of this idiosyncratic, overly optimistic, sometimes shy and withdrawn blabbermouth and for understanding my quirks. To my brothers and sisters in the faith who not only encourage me but continually pray for me, you are absolute treasures.

3) Healthy living. This year, I rediscovered the joys of being fit, starting with my daily jogs in the first half of this year. Towards the second half, I got into biking and I love it. I'm glad that I've been able to maintain my weight and even tone up, and I've met so many like-minded people who continue to fuel my enthusiasm for fitness.

4) Work. There have been a number of challenges and triumphs, hellos and goodbyes, and through it all, I'm still fulfilled. I know that this is where I'm meant to be, and I pray that God uses me to be an even better advertising copywriter.

5) Rest. It's been a luxury nowadays, so I really value lazy weekends spent in front of the TV and the thrill that comes after more than eight hours of sleep.

6) The arts. I'm no artist, but I appreciate all forms of art. I'm thankful for the opportunity to travel to new places, feel all sorts of emotions, and to get into the inner workings of characters' minds through literature, film, photography, music, digital and handmade artworks, and even television. Art is always something I look forward to on a day-to-day basis.

7) Food. I love trying out new dishes, cuisines, restaurants. Ironic, considering I'm supposed to be living a "healthy" lifestyle. But I love overwhelming my senses with flavor, flavor, variety and more flavor. The more food I get to try out, the happier I genuinely am.

8) Adventure. It doesn't take much to make me happy. In fact, I consider a spontaneous day out with friends as an adventure in itself. So I'm thankful for life's surprises. Whether it be a new dish to taste, a new place to visit, or a new experience to be had, I'm up for it. And I want more.

9) Laughter. Life can get too serious at times. I'm thankful for the chuckles that pierce through awkward silences, a good joke, an inside joke, laughter that makes your whole body move, a laugh-til-tears-roll-down snort, or simply a heartwarming smile that comes my way. I can't be serious forever and I'll take laugh lines all around my face when I'm sixty over a clean one with hints of worry lines.

10) God. Through it all, He's been with me. When I'm stubborn, too self-reliant, sometimes lost, forgetfully distant, He calls me back. He never tires of giving me chances and He never stops letting me feel His love. I really can't fathom why and just how much He loves us when we're hopelessly flawed, but His grace propels me to show people that I can make a difference in this life through Him.

11) You. For reading this and for tolerating my sometimes saccharine, sometimes mundane, oftentimes trivial posts. I appreciate YOU.

Okay. Now I have to get back to writing some taglines.

I hope that you all have at least one thing to be thankful for. Life is beautiful. And we should all see it that way.

One Wildly Wonderful Weekend

2010-11-26T08:39:00.019+08:00

Last weekend was a weekend to remember. Within a span of two hours last Friday, I hopped on a plane, landed in the beautiful province of Mactan, Cebu, unpacked my bags and quickly got dressed and made my way down to the beachside to celebrate my best friend Rej's Despedida de Soltera.

Me in white (leftmost), with the bride-to-be in gold, and Nica and Laurie who were also in white.

Hours later, with eyebags, stress zits and remnants of an alcohol-induced hangover (not me, though; my other friends), we trooped over to Rej's hotel suite for hair and makeup. That would be the start of another action-packed leading up to the wedding ceremony that evening.

Proud bridesmaids and Maids of Honor at the Siy-Hahn wedding.

Rej and Vince in their getaway golf cart.

It was one weekend to remember because it was so eventful, a stark contrast to how I normally spend my weekends (i.e. plopped down in front of the television catching up on Criminal Minds episodes, or out grabbing dinner, watching a movie, and going out for coffee afterwards). I'm rarely the type to get dolled up at nine in the evening for a party and drinks 'til the wee hours of the morning.

But this time, there was not a single minute that wasn't action-filled. We would be eating one minute, sitting in front of a mirror getting our hair crimped and styled, then stressing over our video presentation because a laptop (mine) "ate" the DVD in it, walking down the aisle, tearing up, and dancing in heels the next.

Yet it was memorable for another, more important reason. It would be the first wedding in our barkada.

I've known Regina, or Rej to most of our friends, since we were four years old. I met this curly-haired, wide-eyed, equally tall girl in my Sunday School class. We were introduced by my mom's sister since she was supervising another class. I don't remember if we were the best of friends back in those days, but the next vivid memory I have of Rej was when we were nine years old.

She studied in a different school then, but when we were both in the third grade, she moved to our school. Once again, she happened to be placed in the same class as me. Her mom, Chiqui Brosas-Hahn (whom, I found out much later, competed in the 1975 Miss Universe pageant and placed fourth runner-up), re-introduced us to each other. I felt personally responsible for making Rej feel at home in this new school. We ate together, sat beside each other, and I made sure to introduce her to our other classmates. Soon enough, Rej made her own friends and we didn't hang out as much anymore. One particular instance that made me think that she didn't want to be my friend anymore (excuse my thinking; I was only nine) was when I leaned over to look at her pencil case and she slapped my hand, glared at me, and pulled the pencil case away. I was scared of her ever since.

But Life wasn't quite done with us. Two years later, as fifth-graders, we were once again placed in the same class. One particular subject (I think it was a video for Math class) needed us to form a group of four. Rej and I teamed up and we found ourselves grouped with two petite girls, Nica and Laurie. With this, Rej and I were called "The Twin Towers" and given other equally amusing nicknames; she was the "Ostrich" to my "Giraffe". The four of us somehow hit it off and after that groupwork was over, we eventually became a barkada. We left our own barkadas (at the time, I had to contend with a jealous "best friend" who thought that Rej, Nica and Laurie were "stealing me") and we became an obnoxious, self-centered, inseparable bunch of four until high school.

Tessa and Celine (whom we call Pips) joined us in our sophomore year. When they did, we became an even more inseparable bunch and went through countless adventures, fits of laughter, crushes and first boyfriends together. Incredibly, we survived the drifting apart that often happens when people move to different universities and our friendship became stronger now that we're all employed (and in the case of one of us, self-employed). That's thirteen years of solid friendship and sisterhood.

During a field trip when we were high school sophomores back in 1997.

During our retro-themed Christmas dinner last December.

And it has been this unique, indescribable bond that filled us and moved us last weekend as we "gave" Rej to Vince and, in turn, officially, legitimately welcomed him into our lives.

It was a weekend to remember, indeed. We celebrated the union of Vince and Rej and marveled at how perfect they really are for each other. We listened to speech after speech, each one warming our hearts. I felt really honored to be part of the ceremony and blessed to see one of my "bestest friends" entering the wonderful world known as marriage.

Of course we couldn't let the festivities pass without surprising the couple. A year ago, shortly after we found out about their engagement, the rest of us planned to make a video telling the story of how the couple first met, fell in love, and dove into marital bliss. In a non-traditional, unexpected way, of course. Since we always liked drawing (in high school, we were called the "artsy barkada"), we put our somewhat dormant doodling and coloring skills to good use once again.

This was our gift to the couple. It was shown during the wedding reception.

Rej will always be special in an ugly-duckling-turned-graceful-swan kind of way. Not that she was ever ugly. We have seen her transformation through the years. She used to think of herself as a lanky, tall and awkward teen once upon a time. Today, she is the epitome of brains (her career as a hacker — kidding! — in I.T. is soaring) and beauty (she won second runner-up in the Bb. Pilipinas pageant last year). But not only that. She is the kind of friend who will find you at two in the morning when you've had a rough night. She will sit ramrod straight and exude elegance, then turn into a complete dork when it's time to pose for pictures. She jumps at the chance to go on adventures with you, and she'll always let you know just how much she appreciates you.

I'd like to think that Vince is one lucky guy, but from what my friends and I know of Vince, we think that Rej is just as lucky. She found her perfect half.

Congratulations once again, Vince and Rej! I'm overjoyed and excited for what the future holds for the two of you. Much love always!

Of Tutus and Failures

2010-11-13T13:48:00.005+08:00

This morning, I was scheduled to shoot for my aunt's ballet studio. Her ballet school will be participating in a recital towards the end of the year and she needed shots for the souvenir program. Since I did her shoot two years ago, she asked me to do it again.

I did my photography checklist last night and again this morning: camera (of course), external flash, CF cards, batteries and charger. I got to the ballet studio on time and I saw all these little (and bigger) girls in tutus waiting to be photographed. Some even had makeup on.

Then the most horrible thing happened.

I popped in the CF card that I used just this morning (I erased images in preparation for today's shoot and tested the camera). And the card wouldn't read. I thought my camera was just acting up so I tried again.

It still wouldn't read.

I tried not to panic. I remembered that I had a back-up card. I popped it in and, as you might have guessed, that one didn't work either.

I started to panic. Which is pretty embarrassing in a room full of expectant kids and your aunt, who happened to be your client.

Thankfully, my cousin, who lived nearby, had an SLR. I was able to use that one instead and the shoot progressed. I just thanked God that I didn't have to reschedule it since all these kids were dressed and there were parents around.

Lesson learned: time to upgrade my camera. My EOS 300D is almost five years old, a great grandfather by camera standards. It's gone through so many adventures (and misadventures!) with me, but it decided to retire when I really needed it to work.

Here's are sample photos from today's shoot. I'll post more when my heart recovers from the shock it received.

To my aunt, my cousins and extended family members who saw me hyperventilate, I am beyond appalled. I promise to give you awesome post-processed shots!

My "Filipino-ness"

2010-11-09T16:52:00.011+08:00

I was born in the Philippines and grew up here my whole life. But as a child, I looked different and acted differently from my peers. While everyone had black hair, mine was light brown. While their skin color was tan, I was almost white.

In kindergarten, the few friends I made were like me in the sense that we all spoke English. At home, our language of choice was English simply because both my parents were raised that way. I didn't understand Batibot (our local version of Sesame Street) because I only knew a sprinkling of Filipino words. If you popped in a Betamax tape of Care Bears or My Little Pony, however, I would feel right at home.

My parents believed that I'd come to learn Filipino anyway in school because of the subjects taught and because of the friends I'd eventually make. Which did happen. In the third grade, my closest friends were Filipino speakers and I learned to not only understand everything they were saying; I could actually answer them. It felt liberating and I started to feel like I was an actual citizen of this country.

However, the exclusive girls' school I went to was known for producing Engliseras (English speakers). Most of the girls who studied in this school were and still are from the upper rungs of society. This is probably a cultural phenomenon, but in the Philippines, when you're from those social classes, chances are, you spoke better English than you did Filipino. Thus, my English improved and my Filipino likewise improved, but more in a "scholarly" setting. I knew Filipino because we had a Filipino grammar subject and because we also learned social sciences in Filipino. I spoke Filipino at home to our househelp, to my swimming teammates since we were all from different schools, and to people I encountered in supermarkets, malls, or on the road.

Then I went off to university and I was exposed to more people from different backgrounds, upbringings and, literally, different parts of this country. Naturally, I had to switch my language button to Filipino in order to relate to people. But this was where stereotyping often came into the picture.

Here, when English is your first language, and you often mix it up with Filipino words in a sentence (i.e. "You're going to make me inis", which simply means, "You're going to annoy me!"), you're labeled as "conyo". It's nowhere near as nasty as its Spanish counterpart, but the word, to borrow from urbandictionary.com, is a "semi-derogatory term for people who seem to be high-class and vain or conscious about their social status and speak in Taglish¹ or broken-Tagalog² mixed with English". It can be pretty disheartening, if you take the word seriously, to be told that because you're made to feel like you're an outsider of your own country. Like you can't assimilate.

And that's what I had to deal with on the first day of my college life. I was stereotyped as "conyo" just because my first language was English. Add to that the fact that I looked "foreign". Friends would laugh at my attempts to speak to them in straight Filipino because "hindi bagay sa 'yo" ("it doesn't suit you") even if I could very well do so. This made me feel somewhat ostracized from a number of would-be friends and I chose to befriend those who were more fluent in English. Just so that I wouldn't be laughed at or mocked.

At work, things changed. My co-workers were from cities and provinces from all over and I was a minority in the language department. I had to prove time and again that I wasn't that "conyo" girl they perceived me to be; I had to show them that I could adjust and be part of the system.

I did just that.

I felt my tongue changing slowly but surely. I started to feel that my brain was more capable of thinking in Filipino as opposed to always translating. My thoughts would tumble out in Filipino and I even started to speak more Filipino at home than English, much to my parents' surprise.

My college friends were likewise surprised when they finally heard me speak in straight Filipino months after I started working. Gone was the "conyo" girl they once knew, they said. I noticed then that whenever we would meet up for dinner, they felt more at ease with me. They could curse all they wanted in Filipino and they could laugh about stupid jokes without having to think that I would feel out of place. In short, I felt like I started to belong in the grand scheme of things.

Sometimes, however, I still get judged. I was asked the other day if I've ever eaten puto or bibingka (local delicacies) for breakfast, just because I happened to be eating a ham and cheese sandwich. I slip up and mispronounce a few words on occasion and I get laughed at.

But despite these slip-ups and those times I have to stop and think of the correct translations for certain words, I feel that I am very much a Filipino. However you define "Filipino". English is still and will always be my first language and I'm not ashamed to say that because I can also speak the language of my ancestors. Quite fluently, at that.

Language is a tricky business. It's an integral part of who we are as individuals and it probably says a lot about our background. But it shouldn't be the be-all and end-all of how we define a person. A Filipino who happens to speak better English than Filipino doesn't necessarily connote superiority (in terms of education or literacy). By the same token, a Filipino who isn't an English speaker doesn't translate to him being "more Filipino" than the other guy who would say, "that's so kapal" ("that's so mean").

I may be more "western" in terms of language and upbringing, but this doesn't diminish my Filipino-ness in any way, shape or form. I serve my country in any way I can and the uniquely Filipino values that I grew up with are what I carry today.

I'm a Filipino through and through and I'm proud to be one.

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¹ Taglish, to borrow from Wikipedia, is "a portmanteau of the words 'Tagalog' and 'English' which refers to the Philippine language Tagalog (or its liberalized official form, Filipino) infused with American English terms".
² Tagalog, the main dialect of the Philippines in its earliest days leading up to the Commonwealth era (1930's), became the basis for identifying a national language. Filipino then became the unifying national language in the 1980's as it embraced more than just Tagalog words; it accommodated western words, such as Spanish, as well as more letters in the alphabet (i.e. f, j, c, x and z, which weren't in the original alphabet).