Liv in a Life Well-Lived

Hey Mummy, Daddy! I know that it doesn't mean you have acquired super computer knowledge just because you're in heaven now, so the probability of you guys reading this is just, and will always be just, in the metaphysical sense of the world. But I figured I have GOT to write it. Happy 27th year wedding anniversary. As usual, your spending it together, and maybe right now you're in some knock-out place Palawan and all the ultra-cool places in the world could only aim to be. I mean, that's Heaven, for crying out loud. Ella and I both hope you're enjoying it. We're kind of recovering down here on earth. I can tell stories about you without crying now, which I think is a vast improvement. I still have the tendency to mention you guys or some anecdote of yours in conversations with my friends, just like some lovesick puppy stuck in an awry, sticky mess. But I think the more we do that, the more we find the strength to glue up the fragments of our broken world. Not th

My world's about to change.... yet again. Yes, this is going to be one of those i-hate-being-left-behind psychobabble, and don't say i didn't warn you. I'm just getting major whiplash from a deep-seated separation anxiety since I learned my best friend at work has finally, FINALLY decided to leave our organization. On one hand, I agree that it's a good decision, since he can't seem to make himself like any other open positions inside the Foundation. It just might lead him to the work which would really help him grow... up. Better. Be the man I can almost see him becoming. It just sucks something bad that it has to be somewhere I can't see. I'm not good with keeping in touch with friends unless they're someone I see on a day-to-day basis. So I get super anxious whenever someone will move out of my "reach" because I am sure something will change. And that's if they're just like "normal" friends. Ian, to me right now, is much

It's a game I play with Gabe. I'd be lying flat on my back with my knees bent up to my chest, and he'd be splayed on my legs. I'll move my legs up and down and sing "See-saw Sacrado, Kankanen, Tambong tambong..." I think it's an old Ifugao rhyme my Tita remembers from her childhood. So of course it's not the regular see-saw, but it does require a really sturdy set of legs. This morning, Gabe woke up and immediately sought me out. While I was lying in bed, he sat on my stomach and started singing "see-saw sacrado..." so of course, I had to do it. (If you think otherwise, then you have never been subjected to the charms of a 4-year-old, poor you...) While I was pumping my legs faster, Gabe let go of his hold and started whooping for joy. I shrieked and told him to hold on, but he shrieked back "I'm not scared, you're stable!" I'm stable. Wow. I felt like I was awarded an Oscar. Is my search for something/someone "stab

And I don't think I mean just the food. My family is a family of gourmands. So yes, we actually enjoy watching cooking shows. Not that we get to replicate the dishes executed by those master chefs, but seeing them cook everything is feast enough for our eyes. My Dad loved Wok with Yan. We actually tune in to the show every Saturday, or was it Wednesday? Then when we got cable TV, we watched East meets West and Wolfgang Puck. I also became a Bobbly Flay foodie (as opposed to groupie). And of course, Iron Chef rocks! Who thought a bunch of old men and women cooking up a storm could be an interesting contest? But it was awesome! I actually liked their homey faces, those chefs. They looked believable and capable. No, I hated that good-looking chef in Food 911. He looked fake. But who knew I'd change my mind when I saw a local cooking show counterpart? Chef to Go and its mainstay Rob Pengson is yummy. And the food, I imagine, is even more so. Just imagine, if your boyfriend is some

Neehow-neehaw, as long as a David won, I'm good!

The thing about having no cable TV at home is this: you suddenly realize how hopeless the shows on local networks are. I know I have flmaed out a LOT of other tv shows before, but I have reached another inconceivable level of annoyance over the weekend. Let's start with Pinoy Idol. Headache inducing, I promise you. I thought it was a singing contest, but I realized that the point is to have 3 TH judges tell you insensibilities. None of the contestants could sing, and none of the judges makes sense. Dyesebel. Ilang beses nyo ba ireremake yan? And if Marian Rivera can shake her booty it doesn't mean she can act. If she's not being OA, she's bein pa-cute. I mean really. And what the eff is Kapitan Boom supposed to be? My gosh, whoever that guy is, the one who portrays the transformed Kapitan Boom --- he's hopeless. Can't act, can't speak straight, doesn't even look good in his suit. Crazy. Crazy TV. I'll go insane, swear. Good thing may replay ng Signos

Andrea relates to me, but her advice always comes from a privileged point of view in life. Her solutions, logical, but hard to execute in reality. Ella is too young. Ian promises to be there but has no capacity to really understand me. Or interest. Whichever one. Wonder who could really understand me now?

Maybe I'm hallucinating. But American idol's David Archuleta awfully reminds me of my friend Norman. I think it's the facial peleges.... Since Norms already has a twin, they probably are triplets. Haha!

Oh my God. I have it bad. While waiting for my change at the check-out counter in the convenience store, I just caught myself singing not-so-softly, "Touch my body, put me on the floor..." The elderly lady behind me wasn't inclined to sing with me, unfortunately. Darn it, darn it! There ought to be a cure for the Last Song Syndrome. And it ought to be available over-the-counter in Mercury Drug Stores nationwide! Or maybe there ought to be a law against songs that sneaks its way into your subconscious, latches on to as many brain cells as it can saturate and make you sing embarassing but addictive lyrics that could ruin social lives. Mariah Carey sings Touch My Body and when she does, it sounds so kittenish and sexy, and maybe a part of me ( a very hidden part) that wants to be just like that makes me repeat the song over and over. And what about Flo Rida's Low? I'm walking the flood-soaked streets of Monumento and I'm singing "Apple bottom jeans and boo

The memory of happiness is the most unfortunate event. How perfectly, painfully, heartbreakingly true.

Book in Hand: The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart Song in Mind: The Oompha Loompa song from Charlie & the Chocolate Factory I can't sit still nor can I concentrate for long. My mind wanders and my feet longs to follow. I have a classic case of wanderlust. I want to go somewhere I haven't been before, and I want to roam free. Maybe, whatever it is I want to find, I'll find after traveling. Maybe I'll find it out there, or maybe I'll find it when I get home. Wherever Home is now. All I know, I need to go.

They said that by now I would start acclimatizing to the weather this kind of life has to offer. I can only wonder how. How could anybody like this floating sensation, this oblivionesque state of existence? No, I wasn't built to be alone. I used to think I am a loner, but it is dawning on me that I was okay to be alone when I knew my fall back people were there. But since they've gone, lonely is the last thing I want to be. I like my quiet moments, but they've stretched on a little too long than I can endure. They said I'll be okay any minute now. Meanwhile, the rain goes on....

( I wrote these lyrics, would somebody know a fitting melody?) Didn’t know it was too much To ask to be the girl of songs Men sing their lullabyes to. Didn’t think it’ll be so long Before the one will find me waiting Like the good girl I’ve always been If love isn’t about believing Then what else could one girl be singing Except for a lonely love song Meant for no one but herself? Didn’t know it was too much Didn’t think I deserve this luck I Didn’t know… That people can search their whole lives And come up with nothing but air And nothing’s changed Didn’t think you could try and try And still lose to a fate long prophesied What’s one heart to do? If love isn’t about believing Then what else could one girl be singing But a lonely love song Meant for no one but herself? What if everything I knew The Fairytales they drew Were all threads in the wind And I’ll be standing forever Of stone, of earth, of water Flowin, standin’ waiting… I still don’t know…What’s one heart to do?

Silence is The only evidence of Hope I have That there will Be A day that you Will realize That I am not your friend But I am Your missing piece Which you Could only hope to find If you will Open Your eyes and hold my Hand.

Boundaries lost Missing --- Them Cry out for mercy From Known powers that grant Solace to the lonely The heat of missing Them The need to fill in gaping Holes Of broken souls Seeking cold Seeking warmth Flashing light Weeping dark.

Growing up a girl has its setbacks. Being gifted with Barbie dolls is one. People buying you all things pinks is another. But I recently discovered that I have no idea how to make a kite as well. When Gabe asked for a kite, it's a good thing our second cousin Joakim knows how. My gosh, kite-making is a science and an art. First, you have to get pieces of walis tingting and make sure they are aligned properly. It's best to use plastic bags because it's lighter. You have to make sure that the plastic is stretched and taut so it'll fly higher. There's even balancing the thread so it won't bear too much to the left or right. Really, something so simple couldn't be that complicated, but it is. It demands knowledge of physics and gravity and wind velocity. Not kid's play at all. It seems trivial to adults, I'm sure. But it's never too late to learn how to make a kite. The imagination grows better, not older. Can't wait for tomorrow when we'll f

After a long, long while, I get to breathe again. Yep, the summer camp thing is done and over with, and I am taking a much needed rest. Nice to breathe non-toxic air once more. Here's some pics from the recently concluded Sharing the Dream Youth Camp. Team PBSP Just only a tad bit crushin'... honestly. Moi with An Borra and Mac Librea of UPPC For some reason, Geo wanted to be in the picture. I have a guess it's not because of me. Ian and Ava muckin' about. B1 & B2. As in Ball 1 and Ball 2. He honestly doesn't smile because he thinks it makes him look rounder. I haven't figured out a way to tell him it's not about the smile... not just yet.

I think Gabe and I are pieces of each other, made apparent by the similarity of our faces.... And the way we muck about... The same intensity... And same peachiness. Funny to see little versions of myself in him. I think it gives me a little sense of... hmmm, what is it? I think this is immortality.