w a r c a r

And more photos

2009-07-02T02:39:00.005-04:00

As I think I've mentioned, we have a LOT of cameras. My father is a photography buff, and he has been encouraging some of my younger siblings to take it up as well. I do NOT have an eye for photography, so really, the most I can do to show my support is to put my reservations aside, slather on the make-up, and ham it up for the camera. I present our themed shoot:

The errr... some sort of tribal harem girl shot + National Geo shot:

The geisha shot (don't mind the piece of pastry, that's err... a long story):

And the tribal glamor shot:

a note about whatever... aka I'm rambling

2009-06-29T11:37:00.006-04:00

I'm in what I call a 'space in my head'. That usually means I'm writing (and that I've been writing for awhile), and my mind is so immersed in a world of my own making, that it feels weird sometimes when I have to break the surface.

I've been in this same space in my head for a week now, more or less. If I didn't have a date and time stamp on my laptop, I would most likely have no concept of time. And it's been good. I feel productive. I feel sane. I feel myself... only...

It's the "only's" that will break you down, really.

Only. I can still remember the last time I felt like this, the last time I'd written like this. Strange how a memory can feel so distant and so close at the same time. I was still in our condo in Vegas. With John. Cooking lovely dinners. Making ice cream from scratch. Grilling steaks, baking pies, growing a veritable garden of tomatoes in a damn corner of the dining room.

I was living a completely different life, and I have to admit, the thought makes me sad. Don't get me wrong, I don't long for that life anymore; I don't want it back. It's just that it still makes me sad when I think about how we've had to break away from what was such a happy time (well, at least I was happy, can't really speak for the other party now, under the circumstances, can I?), so that we could find ourselves and become whoever we were meant to be. It makes me sad our togetherness was the price I've had to pay for my "I". It makes me sad that we had to break up for me to piece myself together.

And, well let's be honest. Every time a memory leads to the somewhat hazy knowledge that the person I was in love with chose to give me up, well, obviously I feel sad. I'm a romantic, and part of me would have loved to have been saved like a princess. But that would have been just one moment, wouldn't it? I don't want a love based on just one moment anymore.

Still, I don't blame him, I never have. He has his reasons, of course, and I know that. I even know a bit of the whys and the whens, and I can even understand them. I just still have a hard time reconciling myself to the hows, and the eventual nullification of a happily ever after, that's all. But I'm working on it. After all, people change, times change, the world moves on. As do I.

Well. Back to work then.

A legend dies...

2009-06-25T23:41:00.004-04:00

I grew up listening to quite a number of the Pop King's songs. Thriller. Black or White. They Never Really Cared About Us. Say what you want about the man, but to me, his death marks the end of an era.

May you find peace, Jacko. Whatever that may mean.

Scents

2009-06-22T22:45:00.013-04:00

I've been reading Neil Gaiman's blog for awhile now, and found Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab through him. The site, which sells scents and smells, is amazingly evocative. It's gothic, and romantic, and not a little magical. I was browsing through its inventory, reading the descriptions, and suddenly had a strange lust for a perfume that could combine the headiness of flowers growing at the banks of the River Styx, the delicate tincture of early evening stars, the dewy-damp whiff of hot summer sleep, all gently rounded off with the top notes of the enigmatic, effervescent, ephemeral musk of angels.

I promised myself that I would indulge in a bottle or two once I get myself back to New York (since they don't ship outside the US). I don't really wear much perfume, but I think I could wear one of these, from various collections:

1. If I could smell like a dream:
DREAM FORMULA I: ONEIROI from SOMNIUM
"Created to invoke the ancient Greek deities of dreams. On the shores of the ocean, somewhere in the West, they dwell behind their gates of horn and ivory. Soporific, dark, and unfathomable."

2. If I could smell like a place:
CROSSROADS from WANDERLUST
"The forks of the road: an in-between place, sacred and tangibly magickal in innumerable cultures and faiths. This scent is dark with mystery, taut with power. A chill twilit garden of blooms over dry earth and mosses, heavily laden with incense and offertory herbs."

3. If I could smell like a deadly sin:
WRATH from SIN AND SALVATION
"A scent aflame with rage, swirling in the red haze of hatred: dragon's blood spiked with black pepper, clove, and cinnamon."

4. If I could smell like someone from Shakespeare's imaginings:
DESDEMONA from ILLYRIA
"Innocent, soft and pure: sweet pea, carnation and water lily."

portraits and perspectives

2009-06-21T22:35:00.003-04:00

There's a new D-SLR at home, and of course, it had to be taken out for a test run. Here are a few of my favorite shots from that shoot. All of me, of course. I haven't asked permission from the other "subjects/models" if I can post theirs yet.

i just want to say...

2009-06-19T11:44:00.005-04:00

I lost ALL my ebooks in the great computer crash of May 2009, and I am still in mourning. Over 300 visions of other worlds, gone into the ether.

I admit it. Most of my ebooks are sci-fi or fantasy, and I download torrents and torrents of the stuff. I do need my Terry Pratchett and Dianne Wynne Jones and Isaac Asimov like a junkie needs a fix. I had the Artemis Fowl books, a bit of Meg Cabot, most of Jim Butcher, and folders of Edgar Rice Burroughs and all those Mars and Venus stuff. Also Dune, and all of Neil Gaiman's Sandman (must find this asap, as I have been crushing on Morpheus for ages), and a few other authors I seem to have forgotten (mea culpa!).

I am a snob about many things, but I freely admit to fantasy and sci-fi geekdom. I watched ALL the incarnations of Star Trek, except for Enterprise, because honestly, that truly sucked, even for me. I always rush home to watch Doctor Who (because the Doctor is definitely MY sort of man). I stood by Torchwood and yes, even Sarah Jane - my friends laughed and called me all sorts of names, but I stood my ground. I still have complete seasons of Merlin and Demons and Dollhouse and Primeval on my computer. Hey, they kept me sane throughout my unbreak-my-heart hell, when all my brain could handle was light and easy, and it was pleading pleading pleading for me to take it far, far away.

So now I find myself needing to rebuild. With the promise of backing up regularly and consistently. Hah. All you people who laughed whenever I said I had to stay home to catalog my books, well, those nights now serve me well! (Note: This is how completely dorky I am: I have a spreadsheet of all of my lovelies - with ISBN's, authors, publishers, years, etc. And if you include the newly vanished virtual copies, I had over 600 books in my room alone! And you know what's even geekier? I actually have a true blue BARCODE SCANNER to make data entry of the tangible copies easier.)

I had a point to this post... ah yes. So if you have any ebooks you would like share, hit me up. I will owe you. Thanks.

and so it goes...

2009-06-18T21:53:00.011-04:00

He's tall, and that has always been my lure of lures. And the fact that he's well-traveled and independent and always up for an adventure seemed tailor-made to reel me in. He's smart in his own way of course - he has a depth borne not out of classrooms, but of the way he has lived his life. He's admirably efficient, thoughtful, confident, self-reliant. He seems so incredibly anchored, and yet he isn't tied down to any single place. He's uncommitted, unfettered, and yet so gloriously at home with the world. He has a quirky, offbeat sense of humor that tends to catch people off guard.

It helps, of course, that he's also good-looking and built with the kind of arms that can make me feel physically, wonderfully safe. It helps that he has a beautiful, secret, childlike smile. It helps that he has eyes that remind me of the ocean. And he flirted back. He may even have flirted first.

He absolutely fascinated me. He was - is- the first man I've been truly attracted to post-John.

And yet. For all his worldliness, for all his sophistication, for all the crazy adventures still unraveling in his life... he still wants the same thing every other good man (or boy) I've met longs for in a woman. At the end of the day, he still wants her.

Her. That beauty of pearls and princesses and proprieties. She of kitchens and kindnesses and kittens. She of stovetops and settling downs and stay-at-homes. She of babies and baked goods and bending-over-backwards. And she is something I simply cannot bring myself to be. I cannot - will not - pour myself to fit. I'm not that girl. More to the point, I don't want to be her.

I'm sad that I've had to be disappointed. Sad that at the end of the day, he really is just like the rest of them. Sad that underneath all those marvelously strange and crazy layers, he can be so normal and traditional, and well, average.

But the worst bit? He has pushed himself off his pedestal, and I am sad, sad, sad to find that I am no longer of a mind to pick him up.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Photos

2009-06-18T11:01:00.010-04:00

I wanted photos with my books, so my sister took some. I wanted images that were soft and dreamlike, with the whisper of beautiful, forgotten things, and the texture of a different time... like secret secondhand bookshops, and gold-tipped fountain pens, and embossed stationery, and beloved hope chests of (not that) long ago.

***

I am a bookworm, and the books are mine.These old ones are from my great grandfather's library. I love that out of all the branches of our family tree, out of all the grandchildren and great grandchildren, the clan elders chose to hand them down to me -- not to my mom or my dad, but to me, specifically. They now reside in my room, nestled among younger tales and newer stories. I love them, and everything they stand for: history and roots and family; the intrinsic beauty of old, well-loved things; knowledge; imagination; the stunning internal landscapes of dreamers long since gone...

***

In a completely different way, I must say that I love my cowboy boots too. I got them while I was still living in New York, shipped all the way from the Southwest. True blue authentic cowgirl style. I don't wear them much, especially since I'm currently based in the tropics, but they hold a special place in my heart, because they're a piece of my America -- an America that's bold and hard-working and proud and strong. I may have grown up in the Philippines

, but I truly GREW UP in those beautiful, diverse, united states

. You can say whatever you want about the US

, but it will always be home to part of me, because I found some of the best bits of me there.

***

The dress is from Manila, bought for me by my mom. It's the yellow of sunshine and smiles and ripe, ripe mangoes. It's a happy, floaty, dreamy dress, perfect for a lazy, loungey day. It's also ethereal, soft, comfortable. It's the kind of thing you put on when you don't have cares in the world, when you want to feel the soft breeze on your cheek, when you want to ward of stormy skies and afternoon tropical rains. It reminds me of happy, little games played in old, old gardens, and fried bananas sold just out on the street.

***

The cup I'm holding is one of MY cups (I have two), and it goes where I go. Coffee doesn't taste any sweeter, and tea doesn't taste any purer, but somehow, the experience of sipping a hot drink from one of my beloved cups makes my mornings (or afternoons, or evenings) just that much better. The cup is a simple, stark white, and there's a caricature of a naked girl in front, with "bookslut" written just below it. I had it specially made for me, while I was living in Vegas.

***

Feeling (and probably looking) like a kid in a candy shop. I'm quite partial to the smell and feel of books in general, but I think OLD HARDBOUND BOOKS are especially orgasmic. There's something about the gently yellowing pages, the old, delicately mottled leather, the brittle glue that's always in danger of coming undone, that simply undoes something in me.

***

And here I am, my favorite backpack behind me, an open box beside, always coming, always going. And always waiting, waiting for things to begin, unaware (or perhaps I've simply forgotten) that the world is still going round, and that things have already started to move, and that the beginnings have, somewhere, begun to fall in place.

An homage to exes

2009-06-18T10:07:00.000-04:00

You and I, Un-interwine

I am open skies and open minds
You are desks and darts and drawers
I am nights and never neverlands
You are beds and bars and borders

I am trains and trips and tastes
You are homes and harmonies
I am wanderings and wonderlands
You are melodies and mysteries

You ask where do we overlap?
At what point do we meet?
I say you are the pillow beneath my head
I am the cushion underneath your feet.

And when I've rested my weary mind
And your legs uncoil for more
We un-entwine, we unhold hands
and quietly, walk out the door

Oddly enough

2009-06-16T04:14:00.005-04:00

Oddly enough, this picture, and the corresponding caption, made me smile.

"A scowling boy with a stripey cushion..."

From Peonies and Polaroids: http://www.peoniesandpolaroids.com/2009/05/things-to-banish-blues-or-greys.html

Random

2009-06-16T01:58:00.004-04:00

I am not an easy person to miss. I am not the type of person who is hard to live without.

Worlds did not crumble when I left. Realities weren't shattered. Nobody curled up in a ball, shivering in a space dwarfed by my absence. I left no gaping holes, no empty gaps, no vortices and vacuums.

I've been asked many times how it can be so easy for me to uproot myself, and take off, and disappear. It's never easy. But perhaps it's not quite that difficult for me, because there are a few things that I do know.

I have never been the sun in anyone's solar system. I still don't know how it must feel to be the center of a universe that isn't mine. When I walk a certain path, my footprints are easy to sweep away. My departures are not cause for grounds to crack or skies to fall. When I leave, I leave with the knowledge that the tides need only to fall back, that life must shift only a few degrees, and everything will be alright, routine, normal. Perhaps I am remembered, sometimes I may even be missed, but only in the way that summers are longed for, and mangoes craved out-of-season. I am rarely ever needed in the way that needs can cause aches and tears and pains.

I know this about myself. And it's not entirely a bad thing. Not entirely sad. It moves my story forward, makes my world go round. It's a choice I made, to live life my way, and most times, that's enough.

But there are days -- like this one -- when I wish it wasn't.

Random Reflectionary Rants

2009-06-10T00:19:00.002-04:00

Something's been bothering me a bit over the last couple of days, and I really just have to get this out of my system.

It's been over a year since my break-up. I've kept pretty quiet about it, because I was never one to air my dirty laundry out in public. But girls and boys, this has to stop. It truly bothers me that people automatically assume that I was the one who first let go. That I was the one who backed away from commitment. That I was the one who gave up.

I didn't. I wasn't. The truth? I would have loved a happily ever after. No matter how misguided, I would have fought for forever. But I couldn't, because he had already let me go. Simple as that. Clear cut as that. No ifs or buts.

It's not his fault, of course. People change, emotions shift, men fall in and out of love. My ex was -- is --- a good, good man. But even good men have to make tough choices, and really, it was the only choice he could have made for himself. I've always understood that. And I appreciate his honesty, his candor, and, strangely enough, I also appreciate the courage it must have taken to break his best friend's heart.

I like to believe that he knew me and trusted my strength. I like to believe that he understood that I was looking for something else, and that although we were good for the time that we were together, our paths had ceased to intertwine. I had become antsy. I was beginning to resent being tied down and held to a certain place. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: he helped me find myself by loving me, and then he helped me find myself again by letting me go. And really, what more could I have asked?

***

I've realized that although I sometimes do envy my friends their perfect white weddings, I've come to accept that a marriage may really just not be for me.

The next person I share myself with (and god only knows when that's going to be) will have to be fundamentally like me, I think: introspective, a bit nomadic, open-minded, assertive, and absolutely okay with an unconventional relationship. I DO NOT want to be one half of a whole. I am whole in and unto myself. I DO NOT want to complete anyone. I want someone who is complete in and unto himself.

I want someone curious about the world, someone who doesn't mind me coming and going as I please, someone who thinks and pauses to examine "places far and deep in his mind". I want someone who is okay on his own, who doesn't need me to prop him up, but who WANTS me nonetheless, simply because he can feel himself "shining under the light of my gaze". I want someone who won't tie me down, but who will be there when I need him most. I want a romantic, an idealist, a part-time philosopher. I want someone who can meet me halfway, who can be alone, who can leave me alone. I want someone who has the balls to tell me off when necessary, in ways that will make sense to me.

Finally, I want someone I can truly love. Unconditionally. No holds barred, no exits, no plan b's. And I want someone who will at least try to love me the same way, warts and all. Tall order, huh? Well, I've always been a closet romantic.

Plus if things don't work out, I can always adopt cats. Lots and lots of cats. ;)

***

Ask and you shall receive. Let's see what the universe comes up with.

The Choice

2009-05-25T14:06:00.010-04:00

I am ready to leave. I will leave by late this year or early next. I just need to concretize the plans: job, lodging, etc.

I have been so antsy it's making me crazy. I thought coming here would help me de-stress a bit, and it did for a little while, but I'm ready to take the next step now. And staying here, feeling like my life is in limbo, is just not good for my health (sleepless nights and stress patches can't be healthy). I tried to convince myself to stay, but I JUST CAN'T. And that trip to Europe just put everything in perspective. I want to travel, and if I stay here, that's just going to be a pipe dream for many, many years. I am not attracted to Filipino guys (and by the looks of things, I may be too strange a brew for them as well), so I'm not sure I'll ever find any kind of romance here. My credentials never seem to be a good fit with Manila's various industries. I feel like an outcast here sometimes, like my perspective, my whole paradigm is askew, and I am so sick and tired of asking myself what's wrong with me. I know what's wrong. I am not where I belong right now. Here is not where I need to be. That's what's wrong.

I am 28 years old. I have two master's degrees, both from the US. I have BEEN married (yes, past tense). I've traveled. I've been a dog-walker, a licensed real estate agent, a New York City public school teacher, a nanny, an editor, a writer, and a personal assistant. I've been published (nothing to write home about, obviously, but my byline HAS been printed in magazines and newspapers across the US, plus I did that editorial stint for manhwa). On paper, I've actually led a pretty decent life.

And yet. I feel discontent here. I feel that dreaded mediocrity nipping at my heels here, and I am SO SO SO afraid of getting sucked into the vortex that is Manila, because I know this is not where my dreams are. I feel an urgency to get away, because I know that the longer I stay, the easier it will be for me to forget who I want to be.

The world is too big to settle in just one spot. I will never get over the regret I will feel if I don't move this story forward, if I don't do what I really want to do. I love my family with all my heart - they're all I have, really -- but I love myself too. And this is what I have to do, for myself, to find my place and my purpose in the big, wild world.

It's a big decision - a decision that comes with its own trail of tears. It's not like before, when I first left, because then I always thought I'd come back, and spend the rest of my life in Manila. Now I'm not so sure. Now everything is just a big unknown.

My parents did not raise me to be a spectator. They raised me well, with backbone, with gumption, with the courage to act on my desires and to pursue my dreams, no matter how convoluted they may be. And I am so grateful that they have never hindered my path, no matter how circuitous, no matter how strange. I was made for a different kind of life. I want the adventure, the highs and lows, the multiple passions, the universe's drama.

At this point, I don't know exactly where I'm going. All bets are off now. New York. San Franciso. Maybe even Europe, if I can put together a life there. I don't know what I'll be doing. Dog-walking, tour-guiding, even a desk job --all fair game now. But I will leave, of that I am certain. Because I can't NOT. Because my happiness has always been tangled up with taking the journey.

Wish me luck.

Travel Map Update

2009-05-19T13:51:00.004-04:00

I'm sitting here looking at this, and it boggles my mind that I've actually been to all these places. Lived in five cities (if you count QC) in two countries and traveled to 18 countries. Not bad, considering I only really started traveling after moving to New York, and even then I was in grad school.

View my profile

Create your own travel map or travel blog

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Euro Trip 4

2009-05-19T12:39:00.005-04:00

Amsterdam was a blast. The DUTCH ARE THE NICEST PEOPLE on earth. From Faline's camera. This was our last night on tour. Everyone was feeling a little emotional.

Sisterly love on the second floor of some bar on Leidesplein Square, just outside one of the "smoking rooms". ;)

En route to Leidesplein, at this club/bar called Bulldog. We were told to meet everyone there at around 9, but when we got there, they hadn't arrived yet. So, to pass the time, we went to another bar that was giving out free shots plus free entrance to all the ladies.

More sisterly love. This was just after dinner at this Spanish restaurant... really good paella, I have to say. Rabbit, chicken, chorizo. Heaven.

When I said we lived in tents for about 21 days (well, fine, less since we took the cabin upgrades), I really wasn't kidding. This is us at our campsite in Amsterdam.

Last night out on tour. Our Contiki Group rocks. Woohoo.

Euro Trip 3

2009-05-19T12:19:00.004-04:00

These are just Venice and Prague, my favorite Euro cities.

PRAGUE, aka PRAHA:

Sisterly love in some random alleyway.

Feeling the wheel in Prague's Sex Machine Museum.

Coffee at Kafka Cafe. I got the Kafka Coffee of course. I mean it's Kafka in Prague. How could I not???

This is a real candid shot, btw. I was just looking at the prices. Then decided, screw it, I want me some coffee. That Green Death thing I had in the other coffeeshop just did not satisfy. (Green Death = A little coffee + Lots of Absinthe.)

Yet another candid shot of me sitting by some random door. I love this shot.

Again, sisterly love. This time at Prague's Old Town Square.

This was somewhere between the Palace and the Bridge. Prague, of course.

VENICE aka VENEZIA:

Gondola Ride through beautiful Venice. OMG, City of Romance, hands down. For me, Venice definitely beats Paris.

Me, Lia, Greg, Niko, gondola, and a bottle of wine.

Just hanging out by the canals. I LOVE this place. Wouldn't want to live here, mind you (too much of a city girl for that), but I wouldn't mind coming back... again and again and again.

At the city centre. That square is absolutely lush. They had musicians playing by the cafes, and random couples dancing the tango on the streets. Loved it.

Euro Trip 2

2009-05-19T12:14:00.008-04:00

There really aren't that many photos of me. First of all, I didn't have a camera. Secondly, I don't really like posing... weird, huh? Lia has a whole lot of photos though ;)

But here are a couple more from Facebook, as uploaded by random people.

Hanging out in Lauterbrunnen, Switzerland. Kirsty, Me, Lia, and Lauren.

Me in London. I'm not even sure what the building behind me is called. We just thought it looked cool.

Me, Niko, and Lia eating gelato in Pisa.

Leah Baliw, me, Lia, and Faline en route to the Louvre. Facing the fountain, turn left, and you'll hit the pyramid.

Toine, Me, and Daniella in Amsterdam. Bree in the background. Just after the sex show. Yeah, I know, I kinda look drugged here. Well, it IS Amsterdam... haha.

Me, Lia, and Faline eating our pizzas in beautiful Florence.

Lia and Me in Rome. This was actually taken INSIDE the Colosseum, if I remember correctly.

And the girls in... Rome, I think. Yep, Rome, somewhere by the Colosseum as well.

I'll post a few more once people have uploaded them.

Euro Trip

2009-05-19T12:06:00.009-04:00

So here's the general rundown.

Cities: London (UK), Paris (France), Antibes (France), Lauterbrunnen (Switzerland), Rome (Italy), Florence (Italy), Venice (Italy), Bologna (Italy), Pisa (Italy), Czesky Krumlov (Czech Republic), Prague (Czech Republic), Munich (Germany), Heidelberg (Germany), and Amsterdam (Netherlands).

Favorite Cities: Venice, Prague and absolutely lush LONDON

Best Cheap Eats: Prague. Loved their beer (Staropramen rocks my socks) and those bohemian dumplings they serve with pretty much everything.

Best Dinner: Paella Valenciana in Amsterdam. Loved that rabbit.

Favorite thing to do: Find a a grassy area and lie down/sleep. Did this by the Eiffel Tower in Paris, the Spanish steps and the Colosseum in Rome, and the Hapsburg Palace in Vienna.

Nicest People: Hands down, the DUTCH, The Dutch are super nice and super friendly and super hospitable. Followed pretty closely by the French. Isn't that a surprise?

Best Splurge: Toss-up between that Chinese feast we had by Leicester Square in London and the gondola ride in Venice (cheesy, yes, but still absolutely a must-do).

Most memorable Night: Again, a toss-up. Loved the beer hall in Munich. But then, there's the sequined pink hat in Venice. Enough said.

Service Stop Necessities: Milka Chocolate, caprese sandwiches, cup of coffee.

Best Campsite: Venice, followed closely by Rome. I'd put Heidelberg in for the scenery, but dude, they make you pay for a shower!

Coach Anthems: You Can't Stop the Beat, Fat-Bottomed Girls, Summer of 69.

Waker Uppers: Wake Up Little Suzy, Budweieser Commercials

Weirdest Habit picked up on the Trip: Flap Drying

Trip Expression: Don't Worry About it!

Best Sight Seen: Colosseum, canals of Venice

Best Camp Dinner: Spaghetti Bolognaise, when we were cookies

A random smattering of pictures. More on Lia's facebook and Falinie's multiply. I didn't even bring a camera.
Just hanging out by the Eiffel Tower. Lia, Leah Baliw, and me.

Tight and Bright Party in Switzerland: Simon, Welshy, Wilco, Lindsay, Kylie, Jim, Toine, and Me.

Tiffany and Me, first night in Amsterdam. Just after the Sex Show.

Just us girls in Prague.

Faline, Bianca, me, and Lauren. Florence, Italy.

Last Pub Night with the Contiki Crew in London, right by the Royal National in Russell Square.

Me with the girls in Venice.

Ein Prosit!

2009-05-16T12:04:00.004-04:00

Ein Prosit, ein Prosit
Der Gemütlichkeit
Ein Prosit, ein Prosit
Der Gemütlichkeit!

Eins, Zwei, Drei, Saufen! Prost!

I am so going through Euro withdrawals (AGAIN!), and I'm not even out of London yet. I loved everything about this trip. I didn't think I would, especially not at the beginning, but I love everything about it now. Even the drama. Even the whinging and the late adolescent angst and the drinking at 8 in the morning. Even the freezing tents that sometimes end up sopping wet. Even the retarded washers and dryers.

It's weird to think that I may never ever cross paths again with these people... a great, quirky, funny group of people I shared 21 days with -- people who have seen me unshowered, unshaven, hungry, cranky, drunk, bloated and gross. Who have heard me do my thing in the toilet. Who I have chatted with from across my shower stall. Who I have seen in boxers and briefs (hello, Venetian unisex bathrooms).

I never thought of myself as a tour kind of girl, and I may never ever go on a tour again, but I did like this one. I loved how it was basically just a shared coach ride through Europe, really. You set up camp, have dinner, sleep. You wake up, have breakfast, they drop you off in the city, and you're on your own. You don't have to follow anyone's schedule or itinerary, don't have to do anything you don't want to do, don't have to listen to a tour guide drone on and on about trivialities. You make your way back to the camp, have a few beers (or a lot, if you're Aussie) and the next morning, you're off to another city, another adventure. Rinse and repeat Lovely balance of solitude and social nights. And I did get attached to some of the people on this tour. I loved the crazy routine (oh the late, late nights and early, early mornings), the laughs, the intensity of being thrown together for 21 days. =)

And then it ends. It feels like you've spent eons of time together, but it ends. And you promise to keep in touch, and you feel like you're the best of mates, and you might even shed a tear for the memories you're already trying to sort out in your head, but you all know that chances are, you will never ever see each other again. And everyone goes back to their own lives, as do you, and the time that you shared together take on the nuances of dream.

Withdrawals, I tell you.

So a toast. Ein Prosit! To an awesome 21-day tour across Europe, and a blissful, blissful stay in London! (Wish I could travel some more, but sometimes I have to be an adult and listen when my bank books come a-calling.) Anyway, happy travels, everyone. Blaze those trails!

I am a SHIP.

2009-04-12T08:43:00.001-04:00

"We rest here while we can, but we hear the ocean calling in our dreams,
And we know by the morning, the wind will fill our sails to test the seams,
The calm is on the water and part of us would linger by the shore,
For ships are safe in harbor, but that's not what ships are for."

Tom Kimmel & Michael Lille

To My Daddy Diding

2009-04-10T00:22:00.003-04:00

This morning, I finally, truly cried for you. I couldn't before. There seemed to be so much more people whose pains were much more immediate, whose feelings of loss much more profound.

I saw the pain in your wife's eyes (your best friend of sixty years, and whose fate seemed inextricably linked with your own), and the sadness in the faces of your children (whose lives you held up and shaped and guided), and the tears of your other grandchildren (the ones who will carry your name, the ones who shared your hobbies and passions, the ones who saw you much more than I ever did, the so-called favorite ones), and I felt like I had to step back, and let them take their place in front. So instead, I carried the food from one room to the next, and bought boxes of fruit juices, and listed the names on the ribbons of your many floral wreaths and tallied the mass-cards. In my own small way, I wanted to watch out for them too, to help ease their grief even for a little while. I thought that you would have liked that.

But today, after everything, today, I think I can take my place. I am not Kuya RB or Jam or even my brother Niko, but I loved you too. You were my grandfather too. And this is my loss and my pain as well. So today, I will let myself cry and mourn the world's loss of a proud, independent, happy, well-loved man.

I love you Daddy Diding. I was not the most expressive of your grandchildren, nor the most responsive, nor the easiest to like. But I know you loved me, and you were proud of me. I visited you in Hamburg once, a few days before they brought you to the hospital. You called me Ms. Beautiful. And you said I was the only one of your apos you ever called that. I don't know if you were kidding, but it's a memory I treasure.

Good bye, Daddy Diding. Try not to finish all the Johnny Blue where you are, and try not to cuss out the angels too much. I'll miss you.

the ubiquitous mary fry (?) and a little bronte.

2009-04-07T09:16:00.000-04:00

My grandfather passed away very early this morning (April 7). The wake will be at Funeraria Paz in Sucat, inside Manila Memorial. Please keep my family in your thoughts and prayers.

***

I take comfort in words. That's just me.

Do Not Stand at My Grave
by Mary Fry (or whoever actually wrote this)

Do not stand at my grave and forever weep.
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and forever cry.
I am not there. I did not die.

Weep Not Too Much
by Anne Bronte

...O, scorn not Nature's bounties!
My soul partakes with thee.
Drink bliss from all her fountains,
Drink for thyself and me!
Say not, 'My soul is buried
In dungeon gloom with thine;'
But say, 'His heart is here with me;
His spirit drinks with mine.

Poem from Ning's blog

2009-03-30T09:48:00.000-04:00

It's not the lost lover that brings us to ruin, or the barroom brawl,
or the con game gone bad, or the beating
Taken in the alleyway. But the lost car keys,
The broken shoelace,
The overcharge at the gas pump
Which we broach without comment — these are the things that
eat away at life, these constant vibrations
In the web of the unremarkable.

The death of a father — the death of the mother —
The sudden loss shocks the living flesh alive! But the broken
pair of glasses,
The tear in the trousers,
These begin an ache behind the eyes.
And it's this ache to which we will ourselves
Oblivious. We are oblivious. Then, one morning—there's a
crack in the water glass —we wake to find ourselves undone.

Meditation on Ruin
by Jay Hopler from Green Squall. © Yale University Press, 2006.

***

It's not the lost loves, it's me, and the hundred things I take in, most times without noticing, or caring, maybe. It's the hundred unreleased sighs, the hundred tears that never fall for a hundred ignored slights by a universe that keeps on rolling away, turning and turning, sometimes too fast that you can hardly keep up, sometimes too slow you barely noticed that you've been pushed to a space you never wanted to see.

It's the crack in the water glass, the microscopic crack that s growing under your nose, the one that starts with an invisible tear. The one that's always sitting on its place beside the bed, the one that you carry with you from kitchen sink to a spot beside your sleeping form, the one that carelessly siphons your carefully made iced tea to an alternate universe, to a nightmare, to a once unimagined broken you.

It's a slow, yet ceaseless unraveling that begins even before the tapestry has been completed, even as you are picking the colors of the threads.

The truth is everything is flimsy, or will be, given time. Everything breaks, everything dies. Everything falls, everything comes to ruin. Even if it's just the wind brushing against the cheek, the little unremarkable bits come undone, grain by grain, flake by flake. And the crack grows and grows, until that's all there is. And we're no longer even there to notice what's gone.

An announcement

2009-03-12T08:55:00.003-04:00

After some soul-searching, I've decided to defer my departure for New York indefinitely.

This is going to be hard for me to say, because I know these words might hurt, but I need to get this out. I am not happy. Don't get me wrong. I have a lot of things going on for me here, I know that. I have a lot of things to stay for -- my family being foremost, my friends a close second. But I was going to leave for ME. And I can't help but feel like I have now put myself on hold. Indefinitely, as it turns out.

I hate it when people tell me stay here. Because it underscores just how much people DON'T understand. Because the things I desire most in life aren't here. Think about that a little. Still, I've had this conversation countless times before. And maybe they're right, maybe it's better to be content with who you are are, and what you have, and what's in the HERE and NOW. Maybe it's stupid to gamble on something that you're never really sure you can make real. And maybe one day I'll come home defeated, tail between my legs.

But I'm not ready to give up on who I could be just yet. I'm just not. And as sad and as selfish as it may sound, I know for a fact that who I want to be is not someone I'm going to find here. I may no longer have a clear picture of that person, but I do know that. My dreams are no longer here, this I know with all of my heart as well.

I feel so misshapen. And caged. And claustrophobic. And un-free. It feels most people expect me to pick up where I left off. Nobody wants to acknowledge the fact that I AM DIFFERENT. I have changed, in ways deep and huge and altogether too many to enumerate. I don't want to put on the same clothes. I don't want to pick up where I left off. I DON'T want to be who I was. I am broken, but also beautiful. I am flawed, but still worthy. I've seen my weaknesses up close, I've stared at my bad and ugly, and I'm okay with all of it. Or at least I'm trying to be.

I'm really only starting to understand what that means, but already I know that I will be stronger for the effort.

It's been a strange road getting to this epiphany. I've had help, and I've derived strength from the fact that I have people beside me who will be there for me, warts and all. You know who you are, and I thank you.

So yes, I'm staying here indefinitely, BUT NOT permanently. I think I must have made the decision a few days ago, but I was so depressed and sad about it, that I could only tell people now. Let me tell you, it was not easy. In fact, making that choice caused me actual grief and pain and I had to resort to crying in the bathroom. It feels necessary for the time being, but it doesn't feel right. I don't feel right.

The fact of the matter is, hurtful as it may sound, a part of me is empty here. Stifled. A part of me will always crave other spaces. I've said it many times before, and it's been true every time I said it: it's just the way I'm made. Look, I will always have a soft spot for Manila. And I love my family with everything I have. But I've tried my best to accept my place here, and it's just not what I want. There, I've said it straight up. God help me, but this is not what I want. And everyday only makes me surer.

"Live the life you of which you dream." And I will again. I just have pay Reality his dues. At least for a little while.

I hope things get better in 2010.

***

Oh and a special shout-out to my mom and dad, who have always been there for me every step of the way. They've always supported the pursuit of my happiness even when it cost them, and even when sometimes I aspired to things they didn't necessarily agree with or understand. I love you, and I can only hope that one day, I can truly, truly make you proud.

Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations

2009-02-16T19:39:00.000-05:00