Last Rites

19.5 hours in 3 days. 30 minutes to go for me to complete my [20-hour] community service. *trumpets blast ceremoniously*

Ack. I'm so tired. First the Lumbera tribute last Friday (where I was part of the chorale, of which I hope went well, 'coz we all tried so very hard), as well as the start of my community service in the morning 'til the early afternoon, just before dress rehearsal+readying for the presentation+pre-pres. jitters, getting soaked through by the rain on the way to the prep. venue.
Saturday: up by 6, with the community service org rep by 7:30. Learned how to "sieve" graba, and how to use a sapal*, let alone know what it means! (*spade)
Sunday: was the "volunteer" who would accompany a group of freshmen (Edlyn's class-->is pleasantly surprised) to another village, for them to write about in their feature article for En11. Learned to paint with those roller sponges. BUT was late meeting my folks by a long shot. And they are VERY upset with me. How was I to know they'd be there by 1:20? I told my Mom I'd be done a bit before 2! :( Still, I should've told them I was still in the village. Ack. So no more fringe benefits for a looooooong time.

...Speaking of time, it is [obviously?] my GREATEST weakness. :( Eek.

Now, I hope to fix my grad status and hopefully be able to re-apply as grad assistant. Mark (not THE B&W-wearing Mark, but Mark Cruz) says we shouldn't rely on luck, hence our common disdain/annoyance of Wowowee, and lamentation over the Ultra tragedy....ANYWAY. So instead of luck, I ask for your prayers on this.

The Devil Wears Prada: my fave quote

“Stuff? Oh, okay. I see. You think this has nothing to do with you. You go to your closet, and you select, I don't know, that lumpy blue sweater because you're trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care what you put on your back. But what you don't know is that sweater is not just blue. It's not turquoise. It's not lapis. It's actually cerulean. And you're also blithely unaware of the fact that in 2002 Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns. And then I think it was St. Laurent, wasn't it, who showed a selection of cerulean military jackets. And then cerulean quickly showed up in collections of eight different designers. It filtered down through the department stores, and then trickled down into some tragic Casual Corner where you undoubtedly fished it out of some clearance bin. However, that blue represents millions of dollars and countless jobs. It's sort of comical how you think you've made a choice that exempts you from the fashion industry, when in fact, you're wearing a sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room... from ‘a pile of stuff.’” –Miranda Priestly to Andrea Sachs, in The Devil Wears Prada

I love it, I love it, I love it. It makes sense, showing just how interconnected we all are. At the same time, how do we disconnect from everyone and everything? Even communes have connections. Hermits are connected/dependent on the vegetation/animals they will eat, the body of water where the y will take water from, or if not this drastic, the people whom they will take these basic goods from, at the very least. The movie itself was OK, but this is what made it memorable for me, barring Meryl Streep's and Stanley Tucci's performances (Miranda and Nigel, respectively), and Anne Hathaway's wardrobe. <3

..Oh, and have something new: my Technorati Profile

Limits

Freefalling

falling

fall

free

f

all.

My clothes feel awkward
but
my body doesn't
but
[I've come home?]

Wait for the sunrise
before
the bath

Eat
to my soul's delight.

How
ever.

What happened to
control,
plans,
shoulds and
shouldnots?
limits?

what everyone ascribes to

I just don't,
anymore.

It is no longer
ENOUGH.

[now to stand up and say it]

on sleep, actually.

Night's becoming day
freefall flux continuous
and so on and on.

Delayering

Amidst all the glitz and glamor
hype and beatbeatbeat
she was stricken with
indecisive paralysis.

She ran and ran
inward
away
hiding
to seek

silence meaning
[silence].

Refusing to look
see
herself
hiding behind chaos
behind layer upon
layer
[obtuse]

staying
away
keeping reality
at bay
.
.
.
.
.

but

what if

just a little

she starts peeling away
picking at a little
then ripripRIPPINGaway
?

revealing the truth beneath
[naked, vulnerable]
+
[fragile]
.
[take care]
of harsh

reality
+

then she discovers

it's not so bad
:
she discovers
-
-
she's beautiful.

Change

I feel I'm changing

but

I don't recognize myself anymore.

and that is
seriously
disturbing.

Indeed, it is disturbing
because
I am roused
from the familiar
to the unfamiliar.

Is it good or bad?

I alone will know.

It Isn't the End of the World

Coming from a Bikram yoga class last night, pre-dinner, I weighed myself, and heeeey, as of July, I have lost 12 pounds! =) OK, so it varies between 7-12, depending on how much I ate--or didn't eat, haha. But still! Wow! Yippee! I stopped weights and just focused on cardio...and yoga [I only do cardio when I can't do my yoga practice], and lookit! Kewl ;) Weight aside, Bikram yoga has helped me establish better breathing, better stress management [what stress? why stress?], better posture, and most importantly, better respect for my body. Bikram, or "hot" yoga entered my life in April this year. I stopped for a month last June, and it was a very low, hopeless time in my life, but ever since last July, I have returned, going strong, trying my best to go twice a week, once a week if I'm totally booked. There were two weeks in a row where I went four times each week, for which I'm proud of having done. And those two weeks being just last week and the one before that, I think it helped me get stronger and more flexible: I've been commended for my backward bend and recently, my rabbit pose, the latter which I'm very surprised about, 'coz I never got that right before. But well, expect the unexpected, I guess. I just hope things can only get better. I dream of training to teach this someday, impart the awesome transformative personal power it unlocks, but I can't say when yet. One day at a time.

Recently, since I like sharing what I reflect on with friends, especially the ones I don't get to talk to, I shared one particular entry with an aunt. It had a meme, or a questionnaire type of quiz. She replied by rounding on me, soundly berating me [her letter mostly written in caps] for being such a trusting fool, threatening me with identity theft, in effect somebody swindling me and my family and me ending up in the poor house: how lucky and privileged I am, how immature and so naïve and trusting. OK fine, she has a point, and I did reveal my birthdate, the meme I have now removed [to which she said not to 'coz it'll attract attention, but to me, it's preventing possible future damage, right?]. Yes I opened myself, and yes, there is a possibility of that, but I don't like thinking that way: thinking I can't trust anyone, that everyone has an ulterior motive, and will kick you down if need be. She says to go along these lines, but OK, it must sound foolish, but I like thinking that there is still some hope in mankind. I believe in personal space VERY MUCH, but I don't believe in imposed, constructed walls. I believe in respect, and mutual harmony. It must sound too idealistic, and I must sound really sheltered, or as a friend incredulously said once, "Where are you from, Carebear-Land?!" I admit, there are people with evil, selfish intentions; perhaps cruel at times, but selfish above all. But there must be a point where we can all set aside differences and work together! So I'm not giving up: there must be a spark of goodness in everyone, somehow.

On a somewhat related note, along the line of prejudices and anti-freedom, pro-conformity, I've been toying with getting inked for a really long time now, and I know others who've held back, as well. I don't understand why they say they will but haven't done so: it sounds so hypocritical! Fine, the teapot calling the kettle black and all that jazz, as I'm in the same boat, myself, but for me, it's 'coz I don't know any decent artist, plus I want a unique but timeless design that mirrors my pro-conservation, vegan, harmonist ideals. Perhaps it's also got to do with the taboo in the workforce against inked folk. But why is this still the case? My Mom explained that in their time, it would usually be criminals who'd have tattoos, hence the reluctance for people to be inked then, but times have changed: celebrities across the board have been getting themselves inked. Thus the association of tattoos with criminal activity should be junked! Besides, in the end, isn't ink really a form of personal artistic expression? And shouldn't freedom be exercised and encouraged, especially if our global civilization [thus, not only technology, but theories and beliefs, as well] has truly grown in leaps and bounds? Argh, I don't know.

As for my current complicated dilemma/source of upset: I am still an undergrad because I have pending community service which I wasn't able to do because the NGO [non-government organization] I was assigned to hasn't been able to give me something to do. ADSA, the student affairs/discipline administrative arm of our uni, finally sat up and listened and changed the NGO. I start next week, thank God. But because of this, I have to quit as grad assistant and my classes aren't credited. So far, two of my three teachers have allowed me to continue classes as a "sitter-in." However, I have yet to ask the third. Hopefully, when all this is settled, I can have my classes credited: if not, 9 units gone! I also believe my boss has to give me an honorarium for the months I've worked. I loved my job, and I miss it horribly. For now, though, I don't want to dwell on it and just get all down. I am hoping for the best: in Miranda Priestly's tone, "that's all," and as O-sensei always tells me, to take one day at a time.

However, it's the uncertainty that spirals me into despair when I think about it. So I won't obssess, and instead just deal with it as it comes. To this end, thank God for [Bikram] yoga, which gives me the peace and singular concentration I sometimes forget to do for myself.

Pray for me, though. Please.

Grounding, soul-saving literature:

First Lesson by Philip Booth

Lie back, daughter, let your head
be tipped back in the cup of my hand.
Gently, and I will hold you. Spread
your arms wide, lie out on the stream
and look high at the gulls. A dead-
man's float is face down. You will dive
and swim soon enough where this tidewater
ebbs to the sea. Daughter, believe
me, when you tire on the long thrash
to your island, lie up, and survive.
As you float now, where I held you
and let go, remember when fear
cramps your heart what I told you:
lie gently and wide to the light-year
stars, lie back, and the sea will hold you.

and the piece by Oriah Mountain Dreamer that was shared in Bikram Yoga last Friday.

Peace.

More stuff

So. The Crocodile Hunter's dead. I'm personally not a huge fan of his, especially because he has a zoo, and I don't support zoos, animal circuses, rodeos and bullfights, as much as I am against pet mills and factory farms. I'm sorry, but NO. However, he gave awareness to people, and he cared for animals in his own way. So rest in peace, Steve.
**************************
Mom and Dad are back...and I'm glad. And I got lotsa new stuff. Clothes!!!! A bag!!!! Teeeeeaaaaa!!!! None of it's leather or silk or fur. No honey, though one product has yogurt--and it's a gift. Eek. Oh well. It still was sweet of her, though. Luuuuffff. And I do realize I'm lucky. Then I got Mom this new Frog bearista magnet from Starbucks. She likes it; I'm glad. We texted while they were away--Mom and me: WHOA! My technophobe Mom. I'm so proud. But nothing beats seeing them, hearing them, kissing them. I'm glad they're home.
***************************
So much to do, so little time is a mantra most people already have on autopilot. I am not an exception. Indeed, I wish there were more hours in a day to accommodate all the things I set out to do. Then again, with more hours would also be more time to procrastinate, or get sidetracked, or nap, and whatnot. Ah, to heck with it. There will never be “enough” time; however, one can choose to do something about it or not. Now I should get off my lazy butt and do the former. No more excuses; no more “breaks.”

Was finally able to meet up with R. last Saturday evening, and it was plain surreal seeing her again, and this time not professionally but socially. Walls weren’t erected as high, and we could talk about all kinds of topics, for which I am glad :) One thing she mentioned in particular was that I’m growing up so quickly—down a straight and narrow path. And she sighed. Then I sighed. Maybe. Haha: I don’t really like thinking about it. Well, thing is, being one of the “elders” of the “next generation,” on both sides of the family, I feel I am obligated to take on responsibility. I know it’s a choice I can choose to do or not to do, but I care too much not to, anymore, because I’ve seen that, too often, no one else will step in. Maybe, too, my parents ingrained in me very deeply that sense of responsibility, even the Golden Rule. Oh well. But now, I worry about the time slipping by me. As much as some would say I still have my whole life before me, I agree with my friend Nicole in saying that, increasingly, one must already have a life plan to ascribe to. And indeed, I have my own dreams to consider. However, they seem to be from a different planet as that of where my family resides in! I have also been asked by relatives when I will “settle down” to assume responsibility over my parents’ company. Ackackack. This despite my telling them I have no interest in taking over. But now, with all the pressure, I wonder if I should—sacrifice my dreams and “continue their legacy.” At this point, I think my dreams can wait, but then I fear failure. I am not the economist my Dad is, nor the visual artist and color genius my Mom is. I don’t think I’m even cut out for the job! On the other side of the sphere, there are my dreams. What if they aren’t lucrative? I sure as hell don’t want to return like a prodigal daughter. No frickin’ way. So yes, I’m scared to take the leap on either side. Heck, I’m not even sure about my graduate studies-status now. And what about “settling down?” Sometimes, that seems to be the escapist way out, just so I won’t have individual finances to think about. But who says that if I get hitched, I won’t have money problems? I would like the whole shebang one day, though, but I don’t even know if I’ll get it. Ohmygod; of course: the more I hem and haw, the less I get things done, and the less I want to go on.

So yes, I’m growing up so fast. But I don’t want to think about it so much, at least for now. I’ll cross that when I get there.