Back From Bora Too Soon

Despite the howling super-typhoon Reming/Durian (int.) baying at our heels the first day and half of the second, and despite Dad having a bad stomach (Ai-ya, that's for eating oysters on an empty stomach!) for most of our stay, I think our first sojourn to Boracay was a success. For my part, I had Iyengar yoga (Day 2), a Reiki exercise, and Yin Yoga(Day 3/Last Night), all for the first time, at Mandala Spa, where, incidentally, I met a wonderful person/mentor who I experienced all three exercises with, and who encouraged me to go down that same path ("You're a natural; you were born for it!"). Well, I definitely know where I want to go back to! ;)

Personal favorite (place)s:
Lemon Café
Mandala Spa
Sur Resort
the Roxy/Ripcurl shop next to Nothing But Water in D'Mall

Mom liked:
Pearl of the Pacific
Lemon Café

Places to try next:
Bamboo Bar (sangria with cinnamon!)
Juice Bar (caipirinhas?)
dive shops

The white, powdery sand, the deep azure sky, the cerulean waters, the slower, peaceful vibe...I loved every minute of it. Here's to bringing less material goods, but having more soul goods: here's to a return trip sometime soon.

A Strip of Stardom

I got featured in the Totally Not Vegan! comic strip. Wheeeeee!!!!!!!

I'm totally bowled over and flattered. I love it! xD

Babycakes

The following is a story found in Neil Gaiman's anthology, "Smoke and Mirrors." I was reminded of it when I was listening to VF Podcast #53, and the part on a baby dressed as a turkey...and before I go on and on, just read the piece already ;)

Babycakes by Neil Gaiman

A few years back all the animals went away.

We woke up one morning, and they just weren't there anymore.
They didn't leave us a note, or say good-bye. We never figured out quite where they'd gone.

We missed them.

Some of us thought that the world had ended, but it hadn't. There just weren't any more animals. No cats or rabbits, no dogs or whales, no fish in the seas, no bird in the skies.

We were all alone.

We didn't know what to do.

We wandered around lost, for a time, and then someone pointed out that just because we didn't have animals anymore, that was no reason to change our lives. No reason to change our diets or to cease testing products that might cause us harm.

After all, there were still babies.

Babies can't talk. They can hardly move. A baby is not a rational, thinking creature.

We made babies.

And we used them.

Some of them we ate. Baby flesh is tender and succulent.

We flayed their skin and decorated ourselves in it. Baby leather is soft and comfortable.

Some of them we tested.

We taped open their eyes, dripped detergents and shampoos in, a drop at a time.

We scarred them and scalded them. We burnt them. We clamped them and planted electrodes into their brains. We grafted, and we froze, and we irradiated.

The babies breathed our smoke, and the babies' veins flowed with our medicines and drugs, until they stopped breathing or until their blood ceased to flow.

It was hard, of course, but it was necessary.

No one could deny that.

With the animals gone, what else could we do?

Some people complained, of course. But then, they always do.

And everything went back to normal.

Only...

Yesterday, all the babies were gone.

We don't know where they went. We didn't even see them go.

We don't know what we're going to do without them.

But we'll think of something. Humans are smart. It's what makes us superior to the animals and the babies.

We'll figure something out.

The Path Next Taken

Apart from hormones (it's no joke on the 1st day of the Crimson Eddy), I guess I reacted the way I did to my parents because I felt (rather irrationally) that they wanted me to give up my dreams. But as I reflected, that wasn't the case. Plus there are more than the "tried-and-true" jobs to earn a living (blue chip trading not included!)

A friend encouraged me to try bookshops, and I wanted to bop myself: why didn't I think of this before! So I tried that--as well as an inquiry into freelance writing. I also inquired on vegan baking courses, or similar courses, as long as they're animal product-free. Then Mom, who was cold to me the whole morning ('coz I withdrew from them and was stony in front of them and crying behind their backs--I'm just not comfortable with revealing my own emotions, confrontational-wise), when I told her that I'm trying for these jobs and looking for workshops/classes, she encouraged me, then told me, "You know, Ta, we're not telling you to give up your dream. We just want you to do something productive besides staying here all day!" She then said to look into writing workshops, or even art classes, as long as I learn something.

So here I am, still looking, but also still staying home. I guess I've just been too ensconced in my safe haven, in the secure and comfortable. But I can't do it forever, I know: I need to get out there sooner or later. And in doing so, I might find out that my dreams may change, as well--and it has to be a risk I'll take.

For now, though, it's to be a Holistic/Natural Vegan Chef and a Bikram yoga teacher. I've always ascribed to the alternative, organic lifestyle, preferring to heal naturally rather than chemically. One friend pointed out that the market for the above job aims may not be as high as say in the US. But I think it'll work out fine here. I believe in this natural ideology, and that already paves half of the way for success. Things I was told to look into: colloidal silver and bentonite clay and how to depilate short hair, darn it. But I digress.

Why be a Natural Chef? I believe that what we put in our bodies must be beneficial to us and not detrimental. In this light, I want to prepare food that is nutritious but also delicious, and entirely plant-based, a lesser cruelty to the earth and her inhabitants. In connection to this, I also believe fitness must be both of mind and body. I have only achieved this inner peace but self-awareness at the same time from yoga. Then in light of my desire to be certified in teaching Bikram yoga, my teacher F barked at me, "Yoga has to be your boyfriend! Yoga is forever!" At my startled look, he demanded, "Why; did you think otherwise?" And only then did I remember, and realize he's right. Because I still have a LOT to learn. Teacher-friend T is right also in that I haven't committed to one practice and I am already eager to try others. I should focus on one above anything else, and Bikram yoga, in its spartan simplicity, seems perfect to me. As F had said before, he believes that we each have reason to be in Bikram yoga. And indeed, despite Bikram's only having 26 poses/asanas, it is a lifelong lesson: each day having a different lesson, a different and new adventure. In certainty there is uncertainty, a living in the present ONLY, as opposed to most Western planning for the future, etc. A different day's practice can be better or worse. But always, always, do it RIGHT: this is what I am re-learning now. "You are too flexible; you need to build your strength," F tells me constantly. And indeed it is true: leave our egos outside the door. Enter with an open mind, an open heart. Leave all expectations outside. And along this, be prepared for a drill sergeant-like teaching. Some may hate it, but I love it: I love Bikram yoga's unyielding demand on its students, but in reality, just students' desires voicing themselves, their need to be pushed, concretized through Bikram yoga. That plus as much as there is mystery in the everyday practice, there is certainty: certainty in the 26 asanas, but certainty also in the proper alignment and execution of the asanas, and doing them only so far as they are correct. Egos outside the door, indeed.

Thus a healing from within to out. I'm into this because I believe in it. I hope it works out for me, and others will believe in it, me, as well. For now, I keep my fingers crossed, and hope all will go well. But as much as this is so, I will wait and see where the wind blows. May it be towards my favor.

Book Lover: a reaction

The following is my take on the term "book lover:" What are my loves in the literary world, etc. I invite you to do the same. =)

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Of the moment, my favorite authors are Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Neil Gaiman, Isabel Allende, Sark, Miguel Ruiz, Clive Barker, Garth Nix, Bob and Jenna Torres, Isa Chandra Moskowitz, Posie Graeme-Evans, and Christopher Paolini. I am currently reading Audrey Niffenegger's "The Time Traveller's Wife" and enjoying it, besides reading Gabo's "One Hundred Years of Solitude" Iyengar's "Tree of Yoga" and Craig Sams' "The Little Food Book."

Seeing my preferred authors, one would see my interest in Third World issues, feminism, animal rights, fantasy, self-actualization, spirituality, and some slight history/periodizations (romantic sub-plots a plus for brain-relaxation: a carry-over from smut like works of Jude Deveraux and Judith McNaught!)

I like Third World issues as exemplified by Latin American Garcia Marquez because they closely mirror our own national problems: the loss of history (dating back to the pre-colonial era), and the consequences of loss in identity. This then relates to the feminine in reaction the masculine, as illustrated by Allende: how the feminine shapes her own identity from nothing--then how she succeeds, in doing so, making something completely unique (as shown by Sark). This "making of memory," and in doing so, "identity," can be relatively related to the fantastic worlds of Nix's, Barker's and Paolini's plots.

In cognizance of my belief in equality and respect for all (formally started by Ruiz's "The Four Agreements"), I am vegan. But in being such, I needed to understand how "lesser beings" were being mistreated in the face of a burgeoning global population--reactions to feed the populace as seen in farmed animals. Hence my foray into animal rights, and my favorite authors on this topic, Bob and Jenna Torres, because they give a fresh and candid take on it.

However, being vegan for me doesn't only mean saving the animals: it also invites reflection into the earth's situation, as can be seen in Gore's documentary film, "An Inconvenient Truth." And in connection, it begs the connection of a holistic and complementary saving and healing: a symbiosis of sorts. Being vegan also means cooking your own meals more often than not, hence my favorite food author, Isa Chandra Moskowitz (who has a similar vibe to the Torreses'), but also nutritional advice, as in Vesanto Melina's works. Believing in peace also translates to my fitness: I am a yogini, as well, eagerly reading Yoga Journal issues as fast as they come, besides other yoga-related books, as well as attending yoga classes as much as I can.

------------------------------
As can be seen, I truly have a passion for books. Perhaps this suits the term "book lover" to a point, but as every book lover knows, it can never be "enough," never be extinguished. And even if the books dwindle, we will soldier on.

Stay Fab.

I liked the story below a lot. It's Pam Pastor's story on her non-issues on her weight. I felt empowered reading it, even if it is by Dove, which is under Unilever. My cousin is there, too, but I won't tell who she is there. I'd say I'd be put to shame, but then, that won't be a self-empowering thing to say. So let's leave it at that. =)

Link here.

Bootcamp Yoga Muhnela

Had a (Bikram) yoga class this morning. I like it in the morning because I feel more energized: I am likelier to see "black" in the evening, hence I prefer morning sessions. Anyway, so yesterday, my teacher, F, was advised by another teacher-friend, T, that I'm very keen on taking teacher training. Then today, F pushed me, like, SUPER hard--in half-tortoise, and standing bow. OhmyGOD, I got so overwhelmed, so much so that I felt like crying: I didn't know what to do, and I felt so useless, and frustrated, and plain wrong, though weirdly, I also wanted to know how I could be better, but after feeling all the above!--F told me to take it easy, whoops. Afterwards, he corrected my postures again, especially standing bow, where he told me I was doing it ALL WRONG! :( That plus standing head to knee, where he said my raised knee MUST be perpendicular, while the other hip must remain down and its accompanying knee LOCKED. He said, "You have such a beautiful backbend; use it!" (for standing bow) Ack. I was hemming and hawing, then F admonished me, "You can't be like that in teacher training! You MUST build your strength; you're still too weak." Then I told T about it, and he said, "...You need to be tougher than many." Holy cow. Gottagottagotta.

Indeed. After he told F yesterday (that I'm keen on taking training), T kept on drilling into me, "You HAVE to be sure; it's a vocation!" And I understand that. I totally ascribe to what I know of the yogi philosophy, though I think I have to increase my awareness, so I'm reading B.K. Iyengar's Tree of Yoga. I'm thinking Bikram yoga is the way to go. F said something today, that "...people who attend Bikram yoga are also those who need it: that tough stance, etc." (after I remarked that his class is like bootcamp, but in a good, "challenge you 'til you croak" way) Perhaps he's right--though as to what dimension I need it, or he needs it, and how others need it, only our innermost beings can answer to.

Bikram Perseveres

Counting that our neighbors recently sold their house and construction is most directed across my window, plus I'm quite allergic to dust, plus the weather's been acting up....

I got myself sick. BAD. Sneeze-five-times-in-succession bad.

So I was wondering if I should still attend to my yoga practice. I was thinking of chickening out, but a fellow yogini said, "Push 'til you die! Besides, the heat'll be good for you..." Against my mind's protests, I went.

And I conquered.

I did it! I did it! Sure I took it slow, sure I felt like I was mindless following through fog, and sure I had a mountain of tissue beside my mat, but I did it! I didn't have to stop =) OK, so I fell out of two poses, but I went right back in! Yey! I feel so proud of myself, and accomplished. But I've really realized now to always, always, regulate the breath. I believe that's why I also had such a difficult time the past several classes: I wasn't breathing right!...or as usual, letting it hitch, or go all over the place. Sigh: pranayama is mandatory, indeed.

So fine, I'm back to being sick now. But I also think that, more often than not, if one sees himself as sick, then that person will continue to be sick. I'll try not to fall into that trap...plus I think that per another friend's advice, I'll have to move rooms, for now. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, in this case. ;)

On a sidenote...

There are two new teachers in class: a guy and a girl.

The guy's pure energy (he was my teacher this evening). He kept me going, and was fast so as to prevent me from thinking, I guess. But it worked, 'coz I finished the class with energy to spare, and without feeling my creaky joints plus wanting to pass out the way I felt before the class. Then he finished with an incredibly soothing and relaxing cool-down. He was able to make us visualize, and thus actualize relaxation.

The girl, when I took her class, was calmness and serenity personified, flowing from one posture to the next.

I guess I needed the guy's style today. And it was great. I miss our former teachers, but hey, I always believe we should be open to new styles, new ways, new people. So I'm glad I came in with no preconceived notions, just openness and trust. I hope I can be one of them, someday: hopefully someday soon. :)

The Road Less Travelled

So I formally graduated this October, but academically, last May. I worked for an animal rights organization last summer, and part-time for the university English dept. after that 'til September. Anyway, I've been sitting in in three Lit. Cultural Studies classes, and I noticed that I (1)disliked research and (2)liked fiction, and reading...and writing creatively. A professor and I were discussing if I should try another university's MFA-CW program instead (as my university doesn't have it), and for a while, I junked the idea, but as my friend Nikki pointed out, I am a lit person through and through. Ack. I would also like to be either a certified Bikram yogini (to teach), or a holistic nutritionist afterwards, but to be an RD (registered dietician), I have to study AGAIN--Chemistry, the whole shebang, which aside from years gone, also means more $$$! The yoga course costs several thousand dollars, as well(!!!). So must start saving. However, Mom seemed OK with my applying to the Bikram Yoga course certification which is a good sign. So I'm still doing some soul-searching now. I've been job-hunting, but it's slow season. I’d been interviewed by a magazine company, but they said they’ll “call me if ever,” which is usually not a good sign. I was also interviewed for a web writer position, but when my Mom learned of the hours, she vetoed it. I have yet to go to a flight crew interview, as well. (Hey, if it pays the bills...) I'm grasping at straws, so I also sent my curriculum vitae to the Ayala Foundation, as well as applied to some companies from JobStreet.com. 'Coz when it boils down to it, I really am griping about $$$$$: if my decisions now will pay off later, stemming from the fact that my folks have so far been paying for EVERYTHING! And I feel guilty/indebted to them for that. So a lot of what's scaring me is really the risk and potential monetary consequences involved :( Basically, I just felt like running away, travelling and hibernating for a while. But that sounds like a cop-out, and again, $$$$, thus proving to my folks I can't fend for myself and am still a kid, hence should be treated as such. Besides, I can't do that forever. So I feel pretty numb right now: a contradiction right there.

On an added note, I also got to thinking about my veganism, how I'd like to grow in a very vegan-friendly environment. That, to me is Portland. So I looked at creative writing offerings there and I found two: The University of Oregon (though this is in Eugene) and Portland State University. BOTH do not need GRE's! :D

Thing is, as I heard of high unemployment and homeless rates in Portland, I need to know about stable housing and employment, or I'm done for. :( However, I have relatives in Toronto, the DC area and San Diego, meaning I can stay with them. So I wonder if I should try those first. But dang, I like how Portland sounds!!!!!

If ever, I should of course also look into scholarships, but there appear to be none at the moment. Ack. What to do, what to do?

Maybe make vegan shirts:
Silkscreen shirts, a potential hobby! Hmm. Maybe not now, though.

I've been told that I'm young and can still afford to make mistakes, but I don't want to =( I don't like risks, actually: they scare me.

A bright spot in my day, though, is that I got mentioned (the first in the voicemail segment!) on the VF Podcast #50! Eeeek!

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I love to bake. I feel it's like make magic every time. It's a journey, indeed. Call me weird, but that's how I feel ;) And the first thing I ever baked was with my Mom, which was banana bread. However, that had eggs and butter and milk--VERY *NOT VEGAN.* But Dino Sarma comes to each veganfreak's rescue, and in my case, he dishes out a recipe of banana bread, ganked from VegWeb. I altered it a bit. I hope this easy recipe helps ease the vegan sweet tooth, and the depressive bouts: Banana has tryptophan, so there you go :)

Banana Bread, non-omnisub style...almost! (Easy-peasy!)
3-4 overripe medium-large bananas OR 6-8 small bananas (1 pound's worth)
2 Tbsp. oil (I used Rapeseed)
2 cups flour, sifted!
1/2 tsp table salt
1 tsp baking soda
3/4 cup sugar (I used muscovado)
1 cup oatmeal (the quick-cooking variety)
1 cup soymilk (as mixture was getting too dry)
1 tsp. lemon juice
1 tsp. vanilla essence

1. Mash bananas with wooden spoon or potato masher, until it gets really smooshy. (I used the latter)
2. Mix into the bananas the rest of the ingredients
2. Preheat oven to 350 F
3. Bake mixture in loaf pan or casserole dish for 1 hour, coated in about 2 Tbsp’s of oil (mine took 1 hour 15 minutes!)

Product should be crusty on the outside and moist on the inside. At least this is how mine turned out. Happy baking!
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Banana bread. This brings fond memories: it was the first "baking experiment" Mom and I did. It also used to be my Lolo Billy's favorite, whose mind is no longer with us. It is a food of my childhood, which is probably why I love it so.

And with the abundance of bananas we have now, I think this recipe is perfect. =)

War and Peace

I hate it...

when there is conflict.
when I have to mediate.
and when it isn't even necessary
at all.

And yet,
and yet--

it is a way of letting things out:
disclosing
secrets
secrets
s
ecret
s.

But what of me,
no-conflict-please me?

For under conflict,
there are more
unsaid,
hidden
deep
deep.

Words can rent the air and rip the soul
but the lingering gaze can paint
still more.

Prude-speak#1

Mantra: no expletives, no expletives, no expletives.

But I'm so tempted to junk that mantra. Nonononono. But really, today (fine, the latter half of the day) was just extremely trying.

I'm thankful to Q, though, for providing us with Sleater-Kinney songs to download! :) However, that was before the day turned sour.

It all started when traffic was at a standstill for a stupid, drawn-out San Miguel Oktoberfest parade, complete with dancers, drummers, San Miguel Corp. reps waving from semi-vans, basketball players and Efren Bata-Reyes included, and GET THIS: a costumed pig and chicken, looking happy, waving too. Filipinos know very well that San Miguel has as one of its major components, besides beer, meat products, or in my view, massacre by-products. And the waving pig and chicken create AN ILLUSION of HAPPY ANIMALS, when they're NOT! People are thus fooled into believing that meat comes in plastic/styrofoam packages. They are absolved of all violence, when in fact, they directly support and propagate it! Would the cow happily moo when she is sent to slaughter, or when she is kept pregnant so people can have cow's milk, meant for THEIR babies, which incidentally, if female, grow up to be raped like their mothers, or if male, end up as choice meat. Nonetheless, it all boils down to THEIR ALL BEING KILLED, ANYWAY. So smile away.

That was bad enough. Despite that time-consuming, inconsiderate traffic jam, my friends, C and M, and I made it to the movie (Step Up), even with time to spare to go to the loo and see some trailers! For those who said it was nice, I didn't find anything special with it, other than regretting I stopped ballet when I was 8, plus thinking, what if I had pursued my musical roots and applied to maybe UP College of Music, majoring in voice? But I didn't.

Afterwards, M felt the need to check out the shops, and when she asked me my opinion on a top, I bluntly told her not to get it if the only reason she wanted to buy it was to buy something. She didn't. C reminded me M's having a date with her beau on Saturday, so she was in a dither to buy something new. My point is, if you don't need something, or don't really WANT it, why buy it? Plus the boyfriend she's with? They seem to be going nowhere: the guy seems to have no drive to achieve anything. Seriously. So where's the future in that??? Then they both flirt with other people! In her case, she enjoys the attention heaped on her, so to me, what's the point in having a relationship?!?!?! But they're OK with their illusion, so fine. Now what clinched getting my goat was when she asked C and me if she should ask her Mom if she can go with him out of town, despite having a dinner with him and his family(!) that night. C and I were uneasy, and C was very careful to reserve her opinions, but given my fatigue and progressively worsening mood, I told her I didn't think it would be wise to go out with him TWICE in one day, one being out of town, to boot. C reminded her it is customary for her to visit her grandparents on that day, but she said she can move it. For my part, I reminded her of propriety: spending a WHOLE DAY (extending to the evening!) won't look too good on her good girl image. Really. She protested she'd have to do it one of these days, be "independent." And I wanted to shout at her that boy, is her concept of freedom screwed or WHAT? Peter Parker's Uncle Ben nailed it on the head when he said, "with great freedom comes great responsibility." She seems not to see this, forgetting that everything she has comes from and is paid for by her family's money and hard work: her laundry and ironing, her food, her gym membership and other activities, her tuition, her car and the gasoline it needs--in short, EVERYTHING. And at the rate they're going, I don't think her boyfriend's even remotely thinking of providing for such things. And she talks about freedom? Well, think of that, girlie, plus you're already 21.

Call me paranoid, anal, a shrew for thinking about these already, but I do. I see all amorous relationships as a building up, not building down. Hence, I don't believe in flings. I view risks very suspiciously, and quite fearfully. So yes, I've been in a dry spell for a long time now, but I prefer not to compromise. Ironically, though, that is the risk I will have to take.

Oof Ouevre

I'm having such a hard time expressing the whirling events my self is assimilating. But if I don't, I'll feel worse. Ngunit nag-aalinlangan pa rin ako, dahil hindi ko siguradong mailalabas ito ng tama. Hay, buhay. Te, waay man madula con tilawa lang anay. Mayhap this will make sense, mayhap it won't. But I can't vacillate forever.

My iPod died yesterday. [So what; my feast day was two days ago]. No, but seriously, Zeke[Ezekiel], my beloved iPod that has recorded events, lessons, goofs, uploaded all my music and podcasts, travelled with me across continents over the year and a half we were together: Zeke, my beautiful boy, I'll miss you, sweetheart. Despite blanking out on me sometimes, you'd always return to me. But now, it seemed you had found your El Dorado and decided to stay. It'd cost 8,000 to call you back, but then they said you'd be totally different: your brain won't be Zeke's anymore. So rest in peace, darling.

Went to the dermatologist and ENT, as well. The former saw my little sudden breakouts[plus my ears, which she said were flaking from allergies from my Mom's pearl earrings *sob*] and said while injecting and squeezing the buggers all the while, "Ah, you must be stressed," to which I shrugged. The latter stuck both nostrils with anaesthetic-soaked cottonbud toothpicks, then siphoned my mucus, which was clogging my nasal cavity, causing my constant fatigue[complaining I'm always tired] the mucus build-up blocking my eustachean tube and potentially triggering my migraines[now he says it's vertigo]. He then prescribed me medicines which would clear my allergies, but made me sleepy just like that. The mucus got out, all right: I was sneezing the entire time I was in the mall [coz I didn't make it to yoga, boohoo]...but I finally bought the navy slip-on Converse sneakers I was dreaming about! THEY HAD MY SIZE. Thank you, Lord!
Later, over dinner, Dad said my breakouts are probably from all the "weird hippie[aka vegan] stuff" I eat. O_o Um, NO. Mom says not to stress, because it must be stress, but with the new, more peaceful yogic consciousness I have imbibed [but sometimes fail], I didn't really notice it. But who woldn't be stressed, I guess, with completing community service, geting cleared only to find out from the boss[which I never got along with] that my old job[that I was told would be open for me again] was no longer open. At the same time, on the last leg of community service, I was late in meeting the parentals fetching me, thus deeming me persona non grata/cold-war with my Mom, even banning me from the activities I like[which have already been paid for, too, but who cares, right?] in all her manipulative vengefulness. This is until she needs me to stay with her while she's operated on to correct a bad tooth job many years ago. So I stayed: for 7 hours, on the day before class, in the middle of the blackout, post-Milenyo. Oh, and we weren't talking while Milenyo was raging: the weather battle mirrored our family battle. Go figure. But at least Dad[who was the one who should be mad, as he lacked sleep, not she] was talking to me, and had already paid the electric bill I thought I had to pay, for their new apartment that also suffered the typhoon's wrath. Anyway, after the 2-hour prep, 2-hour operation and 3-hour recuperation, she talks to me as if nothing happened. WOW. Then after dinner, she imperiously says, "You're forgiven." WHAT?! The nerve! The night before Milenyo struck, R. and I were making plans to just go away from all the dealings with people close to us who just hurt us because they know how to. But first, I said, I have to set up a bank account. As and I were talking about all the stressors, I guess, she and I agreed: bago tatakbo, kinakailangang may gasolina ka. My mom's sister and a friend-cousin of hers, as well as her own mom all agreed that though what she did was wrong, to forgive her anyway. But my personhood was violated. Truly. It's been going on for as long as I can remember. No person should be treated that way. It'll take time again to rebuild that bond of mother+friend. And if she wrecks it again, I hope to be ready then. Even if my life will not be as comfortable, it will be mine.

So yeah, I guess I was stressed. That plus B, a good friend from Germany who's like a big sister to me, is inviting me for a two-week Ayurvedic cure in Sri Lanka. And I should leave on Monday. Too little time: I don't even have a visa yet! So I don't think I can. Plus all the requirements, and a presentation for a class I hope to get credited next year :-s Eeek. Looking for a job, too, 'coz now, I am an official citizen of the unemployed: official, at least, 'coz I am no longer a pending undergraduate. For the next sem, I will be an official[graduate] student, as well. What joy. Hopefully, things are looking up.

No more rainclouds, please.

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.