Liv in a Life Well-Lived

Like fire Inside Slow burning And bright. Like water That falls Fast and fierce, From a height. Like wind Sweeping Both small and mighty Into flight. Like earth Solid, and firm, And extends Beyond sight. This is Love Measureless against the elements That makes us human and yet More powerful than Raze and rage, Or gale and blight.

A year ago An aging man stood under a flickering light In a bus stop void of people and suitcases. In his hand he held the promise of true love, both Buoyant and free Not knowing he is observed By two strangers who held the same hope and who Both turned around to find in the others’ eyes the image of a red heart-shaped balloon like a beacon guiding the lost through the night. -olivia

Gravitas - feeling internally aligned / personally coherent, sometimes described as 'being comfortable in one's own skin', particularly in challenging circumstances Yes, it is not mere myth. There are people out there who seem to have legal authority to occupy the space they take up on earth. If gravitas needed certifying, it’ll be by an organization more selective and elite than Mensa. I’ve been trying to review my life, just in case I could pinpoint the exact time and place where I have decided to be weird and quirky instead of graceful and sensible. Searched and searched in vain, I have. But the thing about Almost-30 is that you are now of an age where you can finally shed the “innocent and naïve” wild card and move on to something that would allow you to become someone of more substance. Gravitas is hard to come by, precisely because it cannot exist in a vacuum. We cannot gain the skill by attending university or reading tedious tomes of Plutarchian wisdo

At this age, there is a greater probability that a single Almost-30 would be surrounded by other Almost-30 friends who are pregnant or who have given birth to wonderful bundles of joy. Last year, in my own 6 degrees of separation network, there must’ve been at least a dozen friends and acquaintances who were visited by the stork. Happy for them -- and a little envious of them -- I am. I honestly could understand their delight, anticipation and excitement. Then they start posting videos and pictures of sonograms, 2-day old pics, 3-day old pics, 4-day-old pics, (….), first haircut, first solid food tasting, first Lady Gaga song… you get the picture, right? Much as I love babies, I could only empathize for so long with someone I last saw 12 years ago during high school graduation. Then comes the ubiquitous question, “My bebe is so CUTE/GUWAPO/GANDA, noh?” Well, but of course! All babies are beautiful. I am the first to testify to that. But beauty has different sub-sets, we all kn

I was a voracious reader. Then I became a hungry reader. Then a reader. Now I’m a light-snacker when it comes to the literature department. I don’t know what happened. I hate that books cannot bring me the comfort it used to give me --- but nowadays, there just isn’t enough time and, sad to say, not enough memory space in my noggin to focus on a lengthy story. Some of my friends would say, “See? Even the bookworm that you are can’t read anymore.” But dear frigates, I will not go gentle into the good night. Reading only looks like it’s a luxury, but it might just be more than necessary. Your brain cells are degenerating. Old neural connections you haven’t used since your last Soc Sci exam in college are fading fast. The other day, I found myself just grasping for the word we use to describe frivolous behaviour. It took me a full minute of rummaging through my noodle bag to access the right word --- Levity. Then yesterday, my cousin Gabriel asked me to help him with his Filipino h

Remember when you turned 20 and you thought your life was about to change drastically? Well, how did that go for you? J Yeah, I know. Nothing magical or life-altering happened to me when I turned the awesome 2-0 too. I think I aced an exam in Psychology, and learned to walk in elevator shoes, but that’s about it. Then 9 years later, I looked back and realized I am NOT the same person I was at 20 years old. The changes are imperceptible at first, but I can feel it in my bones – something has been calibrated. Now that the big 3-0 is looming over me like a highly combustible Terra Nova dinosaur breathing down my neck, I try to tell myself this would be just like the last “transition” stage. Pretty much anti-climactic. It’s clear that society nowadays no longer want to believe in the traditional stages of life and you can do whatever you want, whatever age you are and wherever the eff you are. But the dormant OC gene in my body has woken up (for a while, at least) to remind me i

After reading Alexandra Stoddard, was encouraged to write down 10 words which defines me and they're not necessarily adjectives. Why not, diba? :D Rain Books Hope Words Chocolate Purple Dream Music Art Bed

During last week’s girls’ night out, one of my fearless female friends shared her adventures/misadventures in NOT pursuing a guy she likes. The stories were weird, laugh out loud funny, makes you wince at all the right moments, and sweetly achingly familiar to all of us. And if you were there, girl, you’d have thought it familiar too. I have reason to believe that as smart and quirky as my close circle of friends are, there’s an iota of us that is similar to all girls everywhere --- utter cluelessness about men. You see, usual love stories are those involving a boy falling head over heels in love with a girl and pursuing her affections to the ends of both earth and sanity. Turn this inside out and you get the story of a girl falling head over heels in love with a boy and pursuing his affections to the ends of… you know how it goes. (Of course these are just the het versions, I’m aware the nouns could be replaced with about a hundred other pairing possibilities). But let’s be real. It t

Thor – stunning visuals, killer abs, epic score and thrilling sound effects to distract us from a storyline that could’ve been written by a 10-year-old kid --- one heck of a prodigious 10 year old, but still. Beastly – this retake of Beauty and the Beast is not as beastly as its title, but nothing beautiful in it either. Storyline is half-baked, hardly credible, and makes sense as much as those hats worn by royals during Will & Kate’s wedding day. Fast Five – not as disappoiting as the last 2 installments. It’s an honest-to-goodness edge of your seat a drenaline ride. It even got me cheering and laughing at the bald-faced heist scenes. Storyline is predictable, but delivery is as precise as car drifting and just as entertaining and less lethal to booth. Water for Elephants - I really suggest you read the book instead. There is a lyrical beauty and imminent danger better presented by the text than by watching Robert Pattinson’s brooding chin. The King’s Speech – simple, cr

Honestly, I have no friggin' idea what a Source Code is. I'm a nerdy kind of geek, not the master techie one. I know my way around an operating system, and I don't panic when the screen turns black and DOS-type words appear, but beyond that... moot. So the title of this movie intrigued and scared me. I have to say, it's one of the most elitist titles ever chosen by movie producers. Only a few people truly understand the words "Source" and "Code" put together, and mayhaps it conjures not very interesting images of green font blinking jarringly against black screen. It is an inaccessible jargon, and it may have just ruined the chances of this movie ever being watched by non-geeks. A true loss for everyone. The movie is a toned-down Inception --- in the sense that it makes you believe in something that usually shouldn't make sense. The premise is that Capt. Colter Stevens (Jake Gyllenhall) awakes in a different body on a speeding train which

I wither in summer.

Presenting the return of the Geek. It's been a while. I wish I could've made a comeback sounding like a changed person; I was imagining critiquing a movie so awe-inspiring I just had to write a review about it. Ironically, it's the other way around. Somebody needs to warn the masses about this film. Do not waste 200 bucks on it. In the end, the only person who gets Sucker Punched is you. I admit, I excite easily. Books, food... and movies. Watching trailers is like foreplay to me. When I saw the trailer for Sucker Punch, it was so mind-blowingly anime-zing that I even alloted a brain cell to remember its showdate. I wasn't expecting an intellectual film, of course. It was obvious to me even then that the movie is akin to an adolescent phantasmagoria. But I wasn't expecting a plotless, spineless film that pretends at empowering girls while encapsulating them further into the stereotype. If I take my lenses off --- all of the lenses at that --- I did feel a certain t

The writing prompt was: to take elements from the story of sleeping beauty and to write it under half an hour. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The first time Liz heard David snore, she laughed. She worked late that night and he offered to drive her home after dinner. By the time they got to her place, it was already past midnight and David looked like he was about to drop. Liz felt guilty, and asked if he would like to take a nap first before heading back to the city. David was too exhausted to refuse. In a matter of minutes, he was dead to the world on Liz’s bed. Then he snored. Loudly. Liz found it adorable at first. But just then, a bitter, ugly voice spoke inside her head asking, “For how long?” How long until what she finds adorable now becomes irritating later? The thought was punctuated by another deafening snore. Without meaning to, she winced. She sat on the chair beside the bed and watched him sleep. “How un-perfect,” she thought. “Here I am, with a guy on my bed, fast as

Lately, I have been hinting heavily at my boyfriend that I would “appreciate” receiving a love letter. He’s been spot-on so far --- big boxes of chocolates, scouring shops and shelling out the bucks for my “craving of the month” munchies, flowers in vases and fluffy stuff to clutter my bed with. Everything except the Letter. See, some girls dream of breathtakingly expensive proposals, some of big fabulous weddings, and some fantasize of babies in a twin carriage. But ever since I was young, I only had one romantic notion and that is to receive one heck of a searingly honest, non-sappy, ultra-passionate love letter. The kind of letter that bares the soul and seals in ink the reasons and unreasons of Love --- so real it makes all other literature pale in comparison. I guess on the off-hand, it sounds like a tall order. I can imagine litgeeks balking at this request. And my guy, who like my sister believes that reading and writing are things you suffer through only for a perfectly iron-cl