February Poetry

I loved you.


I loved you
in ways you'll never know;
of unseen tears
borne from the years
that passed a summer night
of forgotten youthful joys.

I loved you
out of togetherness and without,
of the few, scattered days
that followed that summer night--
my love unspoken
and yours unfound.

In the years that passed,
I loved you
in the absence of inspiration:
no mad sketches,
spontaneous proses
nor poetry.

But today,
I just remembered.

I loved you.


by JoyceTalag. 02/01/2009



Today


Today, I thought I saw you;
the familiar head, upright,
among the many other praying heads,
bowed, to fill early morning voids,

in the midsection,

I thought I saw you.


by Joyce Talag. 02/03/2009

Meet My Fling

I would've entitled this post Meet My Man for the sake of creating an alliteration but I digress -- given that human hobbies, in my own everday runway, are passé.

Anyhoo, I have re-kindled the flame with this old fling which I haven't put into good use for about two years. This, I made on an ambiguous night of mixed passions when words seemed to have escaped me. How it happened was rather traditional. Nope, I was not in front of my computer. Rather, what I had in front was a clean sheet of letter-sized paper and a newly-sharpened Mongol # 2. Driven by whatever it was that robbed me of words, I was able to etch something out of memory in just about 45 minutes!

It was right then and there that I decided to revive this old fling.

I went to see my girl friend Cat for an advice. Of course, she was happy about it. She showed me my options: there was Cretacolor in Sketch Books, Greenbelt and another one called Derwent in National Bookstore. After a few weeks of trying to tame my fickle mind, I finally decided to go to Sketch Books Greenbelt and buy myself the 10-piece Cretacolor Graphite Set and a brand nes sketch pad.

I was in love.

I went to Coffee Bean to catch up with my expecting friend Jen. I tried to copy her mood out of graphite pencils (which I did not really know how to use) while she was giving me an account of her recent frustrations. (I will upload the sketch probably over the weekend.)

I was then surprised when this kinda hot (though not my type) half Italian-looking guy (with semi-long hair -- like a bit below his ears, not gross goatie and sideburns) from the other table came over to compliment my drawing.

Nah, it wasn't a pick-up line. But hey, it was a TWO for the ego -- not that I need both :p

It's almost like Friday:-)

The day is good: sunny with a bit of wind and cloud. It was a great decision to mix and match yellow, white and my feel-good wedges. Truly, these shoes have lifted my being some inches higher even on days that are already good by themselves. Think: payday and half-day tomorrow, oh, and a relatively light workload this week. Ooh-la-la! Lavet!

Say goodbye...

This morning, I was surprised to see that I am a few weeks short to putting my Belle De Jour Planner to rest. Time flies fast... whether you're having fun or not. I remember being all too eager to write birthdays and appointments on this ultimately chic planner during the last week of December. Over ten months later, I've almost filled it up with my colored writing in bullet points, with Post-its and flags sticking out at some pages.

Ever since I ditched those real-life journals for blogs, I feel like the only non-virtual things on earth that can expose me are my planners. Swear, I'll never make the same mistake of leaving them in places, where people who do not know a thing about respecting other people's privacy, may pick them up. (I find it safe though to leave them open on my desk so my boss can look at them on rare occasions I'm late without notice. :p) My planners know my short-term and mid-term plans, my whereabouts -- where I get a haircut, a pedicure or a Brazilian wax, and the people I'm with. It knows how and where I spend my bi-monthly paychecks. Damn, I sometimes even jot down ideas and frustrations when I am so feeling them. And this year, with my BDJ, my monthly b*tchiness can already be tracked down.

It's too early to feel sentimental about how I spent the year. After all, I semi did this with my Year 24 musings. Maybe I should just count the number of movies I have watched. Or the number of doctor's appointments I made for Krissy. Or maybe I should count the number of bastards who asked me out for the year. (Hehe :p)

Anyhoo, we'll see. There's November and December still waiting to be filled-in with activities with my family, friends and colleagues. I'm crossing my fingers that they better be good. Who knows I might be kissing someone special under the mistletoe?

Pfft!

Love in the Time of the Global Meltdown

Love.

When it starts with something big, it trickles – just like the financial fiasco in the US, now hitting the far smaller countries in Europe. The key is you have to be resilient if you are small for the stakes are high: it can consume your whole being. Fears and doubts can cause your whole economy to collapse. The stocks; your investments can drop significantly, as values are always the variable.

In this age when the world is seen from the left eye which is the political and the right eye which is the economy, it is impossible to claim that you have no hand over the things that happen in your life; let alone the investments your heart gets to choose.

Love is a disease; a  m e l t d o w n  that is the consequence of a series of poorly-made decisions and rash actions, driven by a fatal mix of attraction and affection. A bailout seems to be the quickest solution but it only provides temporary relief. There must be something out there that can be done before the Great Depression happens again... for it is safe to assume that you will be the next casualty of a recession called “unrequited love.”

“Socialist” perspectives may always be used – that is, of friends' much-needed intervention. You can always heed their advice. You can always listen. You can burn the lines of your broadband, your mobile and even your lungs in the midst of your neverending coffee and booze heart-to-heart talks but at the end of the day, it is just a standard policy – one that has long been there – that you need. This is the framework. This should be the mould that shapes your perspective.

Why does love cause so much unrest? Why does it destabilize even the most robust beings? Why can't humans be Marxists when it comes to love, where everyone works and earns equally? Can't the proletariat converge to attain this equality?

However, in this age of capitalism, you can acquire and accumulate more than the necessary to beef up your market value and increase your investments. You can be the tall, dark and handsome Harvard-educated Juan, now a corporate big shot and named Manila's Most Eligible Bachelor. But still, there is no such thing as security for people and emotions, just like financial markets, are unstable.

Nothing is fair in love. Once you have fallen, you have to be open to the possibility that a thud may come next. The Spartan in you can always aim to conquer and spend all your useful energy to beat all the odds but when bankruptcy is inevitable, a soft landing is always your best alternative. You can only put up defenses to cushion yourself – cutting down on losses and saving all your chips for that rainy day.

With all the big players around in your trade, it is really frightening to think about what a meltdown can do to a player your size. Again, THE standard policy must apply. Plus, it will have to take a lot of faith, prayers and by-the-book advices from the equivalent of Marx, Keynes and Friedman.

So what do you do when the supply is low and your demand is high? How do you safeguard the real when the unseen and intangible is already on a  m e l t d o w n ?

UAAP Season 71 -- When it all ended on Game Tiu

Congratulations to the Ateneo Blue Eagles for being this year's UAAP champions!

It's been a long time since our last championship. I was still in Ateneo when we last held the title six years ago. Needless to say, I'm mighty proud we finally made it. Everyone actually worked for the win -- beating La Salle 4 to nothing this season and most of all, having the longest winning streak ever for UAAP at 16-1.

Cheers to our players as well for bagging most of the individual awards: Rabeh Al-Hussaini (MVP, Most Improved Player, Jollibee Champ Award, Mythical 5), Nonoy Baclao (Best Defensive Player), Chris Tiu (Mythical 5), Ryan Buenafe (Rookie of the Year, Rookie Team) and Nico Salva (Rookie Team).

I was in Ateneo yesterday morning and was able to congratulate Nonoy amidst fans who are taking his pic. Hehe :p

Anyhoo, what are we all waiting for?

sa Tuesday at the Bellarmine Field.

Read more about the winning game at Bleacher's Brew.

Photos taken from random Google searches.

A Day at Caliraya: When you're supposed to be working but...

Just got back from a 13-hour trip that involved zigzagging through two mountains quite down south and at the east -- Laguna and Rizal.

It was my second time within the quarter to visit Caliraya to check sites for our tree-planting activity, which is the third phase of our recently-launched environmental program. Given the scenic view of the lake and as well as the fresh air of the province, I wanted to run around in the open... arms stretched and shouting with much excitement like a child. Or maybe, I could sit on the lone bench by the edge of the lake to do my inextravagant favorite hobbies: to read, write, draw or just reflect.

But I couldn't.

I had to work. I had a two-week deadline to meet. No, make that just a week. Though I'm glad that I have more experienced colleagues who are there to back me up, I honestly feel like if one tiny detail is overlooked, I'll be, well, a failure.

Anyway, the only therapeutic thing that I was able to do was to obsess myself with some native jewelry holders in Paete. I do not really know what to do with them so I guess I'm selling the others on my Multiply shop: http://smartdresser.multiply.com. The meals and the conversations were also great. Don't I always, always love long drives, good food and the conversations that make them all the more better?

It rained when we were on our way home. How I wish I could've gotten out of the car and let the child in me come out to dance in the rain.

Gah. I have to go.

Note: The picture above will be our planting site. (Taken on my first visit last July.) Volunteers can take off their clothes, leave them by the bank and do seven laps to get to the islet in their birthday suits. I think a volunteer can plant as much as 15 seedlings there. Hehe.

More pics of the site and out R&R area to be posted. You'll lavet!

Year 24

It's the eve of my birthday, a Friday evening, and I am seated in mock isolation within the confines of 9-square meter cubicle. I am trying to rack my brains about something... or anything special that can be linked to the number 24. However, to no avail. My hard drive cannot recall a song, a fancy saying or a Carrie Bradshaw quote that mentions anything fabulous about being 24. (Twenty-three was so much better. I was finally able to quote Plumb in one of my favorite songs, Real. But it ends there.)

Anyhoo, just to stop myself from concluding that 24 is indeed boring, I'd like to see this year as a challenge. You know, I like goals—coiling, aiming and shooting at them. So, I take Year 24 as a year to let all my realistic quarter-life dreams (and wild fantasies) happen while at the same time, preparing for the next big thing at 25, my silver year. After all, I won't be as young as I currently feel when I step on the silver ladder. (So will there be a big party next year? We'll see. Work hard, party harder, right?)

Ugh. Does that mean forever ditching my denim minis and not skipping around the office when no one is watching? And... less baby talk?

I'm such a kid. I know. Krissy will probably outgrow baby talk faster than I ever would.

Anyway, I thank God for giving me a great year. It was a year of firsts, a bit of accomplishments, a couple of meaningful friendships, some trials and a few imagined heartbreaks. What matters most is that I came out of 23 as a better person... though partly disappointed at reviving an old harmful habit.

I am thankful that I have my family intact and that I have a home and a beautiful daughter to go home to everyday. Also thankful that I have a job that allows me to exercise my creativity and meet people from various walks of life.

Earlier this month, I came up with a wish list but I honestly do not feel like I really wanted most of them. (But yes, I am thankful I have yet to make use of a free waxing privilege and that I have received chocolates from various non-romantic sources within the past week.)

As I told someone today, I am wishing for something that money cannot buy. Happiness—for me and the people I care about. I believe I am quite in that state in spite of my make-believe struggles and heartaches. I love the drama. But seriously, as of the moment, I find no gaps in my contentment continuum. I am whole. I guess I just get really bothered whenever I see loved ones being jaded or fighting some inner demons. I hate it.

But as I learned in my speaking engagement this week, happiness is a personal effort so my real wish is for God to give me opportunities. Meaning, opportunities to be happy and to make others happy. Along those lines, I wish for opportunities to make things finally happen.



My heartfelt thanks to everyone who made their advance greetings... including the crazy guys who sang me a loud birthday song in PLPI's elevator.

It wouldn't hurt to wish for a spankin' sexy pair of shoes this year. Just look at these hot pair of CL boots donned by Blake Lively on her birthday. Some birthday boots! :p

Lipstick Memories

Among the many complexities of being human is the desire to be remembered. That is why men and women go to great lengths – often expressed in simplified ways – to find themselves in the most far-flung place on earth: the other’s thoughts.

The other may have been a part of a relationship – that which has happened out of bizarre, unconventional circumstances; coincidences where we put meaning to, such that, they become a work of fate. It may be that, which have left us forever on a limbo, not really because the other has gone in the absence of verbal pronouncements, but rather, because we choose to look, with hope, not beyond the grey areas. It is the relationship that might as well never happened when it had, once, at a certain moment in our lives... and of the other’s life.

This realization creates a certain kind of fear among ourselves. We are afraid to be forgotten… more than we are afraid to forget.

Lengthier relationships have the privilege of creating bigger spaces for memories and more opportunities to create them. There will always be the missives that will recount lost affection, pictures that frame a face; an expression once worn, and videos that replay moments that will never happen again.

But what concession do short, unpronounced relationships deserve but only those as mere as a smudge of ourselves?

Lipstick – on the cup of coffee we consciously leave plunked on his cupholder; innocently smudged on his cheek after a goodbye kiss. Their fame is only good until the cup has been tossed to a waiting bin elsewhere along the road or until they have been smoothly erased by just one wipe of a hand.

Maybe lipstick on the collar is better in some ways. They linger for a few hours, overnight. They fade the next day, with soap and water, after a furious rubbing of two tightly closed fists.



TIP LINKS:
For women: How to avoid putting MAKE-UP IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES
For men: HOW TO CLEAN LIPSTICK FROM THE COLLAR

Photo credit: Stain Expert

About A Friend

Our similar adversities were among the things that brought us closer together. It was a surprise, having been introduced once, barely acquainted, that we would be in constant contact with each other -- exchanging leads, talking about our careers and sharing our woes as young single mothers who both came from abusive relationships and yet, who dream of that one big love of our lives.

There would soon be the regular get-togethers, independent of the connection that conjoined us as friends. They all ended well; I always went home feeling stronger as a young woman and relieved of all my apprehensions knowing that I have a friend who was putting up well with more than what I was going through.

I admired her, though at the expense of my perception of myself as a mother. I paid high respect for her uncanny ability to finish school while nursing a baby in between classes, work hard (and save) to pay for her child’s pre-school and still be so hands-on to his needs.

I was earnestly happy when she broke the news that she has found herself a new love – one who readily took her two-in-one package deal. That was also when we started to see less of each other. I understood, just like any good friend would. And I promised to myself that I shall always be around and ready to listen and help, just like any real friend would.

Two summers ago, she asked if we can meet for coffee and chat. I readily said yes, hoping to hear even more better things from her. But my excitement was cut short by the somber expression she wore as she walked in the café’s smoking section. I knew that something was wrong and her stories confirmed this. But we parted with hope made visible by the smiles on our faces.

It was the last time I have seen her well.

In the proceeding months, I saw her self-inflicted deterioration from the woman she used to be. I knew no other way to be her good friend but to distance myself and let her deal with her problems independently.

Months had again passed before our next meeting.

At the café, she walked in with a big smile; looking so much more at ease with herself than the last time I saw her. Inside, I was hoping not to hear the same stories that drove her to her self-imposed exile; the same problems that her stubbornness will not allow to be solved. But again, my hopes were unheard. I learned about her sufferings on top of her heels, and of those of her loved ones out of her own unconscious efforts.

It was just too much that I can bear for a friend: watching her deteriorate out of her own means.

We stood looking at each other for a long time – I, with so much concern, asking her to take care of herself in between sighs of hopelessness and her, repeatedly assuring me that she will be alright.

I walked away feeling guilt from a forced indifference.

Photo credit: Deterioration in Art at www.artreview.com

A Great Long Weekend

I love long weekends.

For me, they're the perfect time to bond with my family, meet with long-lost friends and accomplish something domestic or personal -- like checking the consistency of my color-coded closet, dusting all my old stuff, sorting through memory boxes and whatnots and most of all, evaluating my state of mind (or heart).

Started the weekend with a good Friday. I went to Gamboa to say goodbye to our accounting staff, si Rose, who's joining another company.

Later, I spent a lovely, laidback evening in the company of a good friend. It was great getting to know him and sharing my own stories, especially with a bottle of sweet wine and a box of assorted chocolates, which we halved and sampled one at a time.

I spent Saturday taking care of Krissy. I just realized that I have finally gained back her love and trust, after a few weeks of coming home late on most nights.

Still the same on Sunday. Started reading Love in the Time of Cholera again to finally finish it, after years of being quarantined on the pile under my TV. I then served as a lector in the evening mass. It's great that Krissy already seems to be inclined about doing the same thing when she grows up. :)

My sister and I


On Monday morning, my parents, sister and I brought Krissy to a different pedia for a second opinion. She's well naman so there should be no more worries. I'm proud she's super brave and very good at following the doctor's instructions. We later went to The Block. Had lunch at Martabak. (Always liked it there.) Then went shopping for a bit. Krissy had a great time at Toy Kingdom. Bought her her "wish-a-wish-a-woo-hoo" wand (something I coined; and something she'd repeat as "mish-a-mish-a-moo-hoo"), her Boots (Dora's monkey best friend) speaking toy... whatever it's called, and a new set of flash cards. We then had iced chocolate at Figaro, where she opened all her loot. I kind of had a hard time saying goodbye to her with her please-don't-go-mommy look. I was afraid she'd burst into a crying spell. (Geez, she's learned much from her mommy-o!)

Proud of her loot


Mmm... Love my iced choco!


"Mish-a-mish-a-moo-hoo"


I Love Boots


So after a bit of sweet talk, I went to Tiendesitas to check the food stalls there. See? I had to work on a vacation since the week's going to be pretty tight. I need info by Thursday at 7:30 in the morning while the my Tuesday and Wednesday are already so full of To-Dos, so what's there to do, right? I asked another good friend, si Big D, if he'd like to follow and drink with me. He was game but knowing how spontaneous that friend is, I just found myself renting a swimsuit and spending a very, very relaxing evening at a water spa. It was super worth it. I really, really love this guy (as in love in an uber platonic way). The spa's indeed very therapeutic, I got myself out of depression and emotional dependence such that I was able to take what-might-have-been two big emotional let downs for me level-headedly. If you happen to read this, thank you again. You're really such a great friend. Promise, I'd write about you and pimp you out in cyberspace. Hehe :p

Anyway, I have nearly overcame all the consequences of having such a great long weekend. One more day, then I'm out of it.

A feel-good Friday to all!

Song for the Week:

No One - Alicia Keys

Life is like a box of chocolates...

Just found this while looking for someone's Perugina chocolates.

Eat your hearts out, my dear readers :p

____________________________________


Some people are semi-sweet; others are just plain nutty. Don't cry over spilled milk - unless, of course, it's chocolate milk. There is a fine line between vice and addiction. Blind dates are like chocolate - they're usually chunky and they quickly disappear. When life presents you a rocky road, just eat your way out of it. Money can't buy you love - but it can buy you chocolate - 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. Keep your fingers off other people's bonbons. Mothers-in-law are like chocolate syrup; a little goes a long way. Flowers and champagne may set the stage, but it's chocolate that steals the show. An ounce of truffles is worth a pound of anything. Milk chocolate .. for all it's worth. You never really know a person til you've shared a box of chocolates with them. A kiss is just a kiss, but a chocolate kiss is bliss. True love will remain long after the chocolates have gone ... provided there's another box. The best things in life are not fat free. Nothing is worth getting sick over except, of course, chocolate. When all else fails, fudge it! And remember, if life is like a box of chocolates, take a bite out of everything.


* * *
Can't wait! :p

The Best Days

Thursday morning. Had to wake up extra early to make it to a 7:30 am breakfast meeting at Mario's Kitchen. I didn't. But I'm glad I made it 5 minutes early.

It was the first big group meeting called for the organizers of the upcoming Children's Rosary Rally. The plan sounds good and I'm optimistic that coordination for this year will not be as stressful as last year's.

Evening. I got pretty hyped up when this really good new friend of mine called for a private choco fest! We're both big fans of chocolate and we can't wait to do it. Might as well call our rendezvous, "Chocoholics Anonymous." :p

I later got a message from a more senior colleague asking me if I can make it to an important breakfast meeting on the next day. So...

Friday morning. Dropped by the office first to properly inform my boss that I'm supposed to attend an 8 am meeting. I'm actually thankful that since my job requires a lot of field work, my boss trusts me enough to allow me to leave the office anytime. This is just one of the many things I enjoyed when I was still acquiring accounts for my old job. I get to go out and meet people of all sorts.

It started to rain hard when I got on a cab but the good thing was that it stopped when I reached my destination. I haven't been to High Street/Serendra for the longest time and I was surprised that so many establishments were already operational since those times I hung out a lot in the area.

I love my mornings good -- waking up early, saying a prayer, walking a bit and having good breakfast. Boy, I miss those times when my dad would ring the doorbell in my pad so we can have breakfast together in Katipunan. Or those times when we'd go to our favorite breakfast places when he drives me from home to my pad on early Mondays.

Again, I must say that I am really thankful that I get to sit down with the local CSR gurus and watch how they work. It's very humbling plus I feel so privileged about learning so much from them.

This is what's so good about being able to identify one's own passion. You can always live it out. Earlier this week, I got to have a restroom conversation with one of our company's lawyers; also one of the women I admire at work. Again, I thought that it's really such a small world. She happens to be friends with this woman who spoke in my course's career talks. I have always thought she had the job I wanted. My officemate told me that apparently, her friend was asking her to help her look for someone who'd replace her post in the Swedish Embassy just two Aprils ago. Boy! It could've been me! :p

Anyway, Saturday was something else. Loved the whole of it! Brought our GK kids to ACPACI's special screening of Repertory Philippines' Mulan at Onstage, Greenbelt 1. Brought Krissy with me and she seemed to have so much fun. This plus the fact that I've heard much of my favorite compliment -- Krissy and I having splitting images, made Saturday so great!






Today is Sunday and I am looking forward to more activities with my family.

Ransom by noon

The government and its mediators have been given until noon to pay P15 million as ransom for ABS-CBN jounralist Ces Drilon, cameraman Jimmy Encarnacio and MSU Prof. Octavio Dinampo.

The latest news is that the deadline is extended to 2 pm.

Boy, the Abu Sayyaf is really in need of money. This must be very scary for the hostages and their families. And again, the question of whether to pay the ransom or not plays in the heads of everyone. While the government may adhere to its "no ransom policy" (or did they just okay P500k each per hostage?), will not the families and supporters of the hostages secretly give in?

We'll never know. It's easy to think of greater good when you're from the outside looking in. But what about those who will be left behind? Can there be any chance that a common good will be reached?

But heck, why do I wish these bad guys good?

It's downtime for Ces and Hillary

What could have been a good Monday for many Filipinos was bugged by one big question: where is Ces Drilon?

People then were buzzing with the question as Ces Drilon, a celebrated Filipino journalist, together with two cameramen and a history researcher, were allegedly missing. Nobody can confirm the news until ABS-CBN released their statement on Monday evening. They have indeed launched a news blackout and is trying to contain the situation by not causing national panic and sensationalism. The news about Ces was even reported at the latter portion of TV Patrol and kept at a very short and objective level.

Again, unverified sources of information (as I missed the news during the past 2 days) say that the ransom is around P10 to P30 million--an amount that Ces, ABS-CBN and their supporters can easily raise. While the release of one cameraman has caused more speculations and violent reactions, still we're faced with another moral ambiguity: should ransom be paid to get the three remaining hostages safe and free or should we just follow GMA's no-ransom mandate?

It's easy to choose the latter option. Why would we support the Abu Sayyaf and encourage precedence? The government cannot just initiate making an industry out of kidnapping, right?

But if you put yourself in the shoes of the hostages and their families, you may just think otherwise. Your concern will always be their safety. (Omg, this reminds me of Gracia Burnham's story...)

The abduction of Ces and her companions is another indication of how maimed our freedom of press is. Ces, being a nationally-acclaimed journalist, was taken as a hostage by the Abu Sayyaf on the week of Independence Day! This must explain why nobody wants to celebrate Independence Day.

I'm just thinking how bad Ces' fate must be. I remember Ces being one of the journalists who witnessed the siege initiated by Sen. Trillanes. She eventually got detained and was suspected to have a link, or at least know beforehand, Trillanes' plot. I applaud her for her very sassy answer: "If I knew then I wouldn't have worn heels."

There you go, fashionista. I hope and pray that you'll be out soon without anyone having to shed millions or blood.

* * *


Likewise, last week (or last, last week--pardon my lost sense of time) was a downtime for Hillary Clinton. I am not really a big fan of Hillary's but the thing is, I kind of felt that my hope for a woman to finally become a US president was extinguished. Well, slightly at least.

Oh well... But she was gracious enough to have accepted defeat. She was mighty brave as well to have not given up the fight.

(Looking back, I admire this woman for her strong spirit. I would have lost face and grace if the world has known that my husband was cheating on me under our very own roof.)

Anyway, she may not have succeeded the race for the Democrats' presidential candidate. But Hillary Rodham Clinton has raised hopes for countless women. Yes, I do hope that I'll be able to witness the oath-taking of the first woman US citizen while I'm still alive and senile. :)

Independence Day Thoughts

Nobody celebrates Indepence Day anymore.

Well, at least no one within third degree of consanguinity with me.

Why would anyone do so--when majority of the Filipinos are being deprived of their own freedoms?

We can start with all the big, much hyped about proofs: police brutalities, political killings, journalists being threatened, killed and kidnapped, civilian brutalities, political seizure of properties and so on.

But you know, we can escape this for once and think of all the basic, everyday proofs that all of us can relate to. I say that we look at those which fall within the framework described by Nobel Prize winner Amartya Sen.

Last year, we have faced one major economic ambiguity: the government claiming that our economy is on its boom (with enough information to back it up like GDPs, employment statistics, tax collection, etc.) while people are claiming that more and more Filipinos are getting hungrier by the day. Later on, we face worsening problems on inflation and rice shortage.

So who is saying the truth, we ask ourselves.

I say it's both.

You see, while our economy is growing and our government is earning more taxes from its people and its investors, the problem is that the wealth acquired during the process does not trickle down to the grassroots.

The gap between the rich and the poor have worsened. And are companies to be blamed? Well, not those who observe good governance and social responsibility. But probably those who are new and exploitative by nature. There may be hundreds of thousands of jobs created in the past years but what is really the quality of these jobs? Do they really free more Filipinos such that they will be able to afford good education, healthcare and other welfare services? Are not these taxes being mismanaged and somehow lost among red tape and SOPs?

You see, freedom is more than just being freed from the hands of a dictator or a conqueror. Freedom is more of people being independent; people being made to stand on their own.

You know, I reprimand myself whenever I feel pity towards a blue-collared employee. I tell myself thatI should not pity them because they have decent jobs and they live decent lives. They have decent employers who give them what is right and due. BUT. They do not have access to good education, healthcare, housing, etc. simply because the government cannot give it to them.

It's not that I am expecting first world welfare system for the Filipinos. I am realistic enough to know that even if we remove all the corruption in our government, the country will still be so far away from the G8 in terms of national wealth. But the thing is, it could be so much better if the billions that go to the pockets of officials will instead go to hospitals, schools, etc.

Ayayayay...

Anyway, there's one more thing I'd like to write about. It's about the OFWs being called as the country's new heroes (bagong bayani). I think we have to be careful about who we call our heroes.

Heroes are supposedly those who have clear intentions of wanting to help the country more than their families.

But why is that I hear so many OFWs complain about the appreciating value of Peso against the US dollar and rejoice when the peso drops?

Yes, I know why and it's clearly not because of a national cause.

So why should we call them all bagong bayanis? While some may be exceptions, still, I think that the same argument being raised by the "anti"-Lapu-Lapu group applies to this.

Anyway, let's still thank them all for keeping the economy afloat regardless of their intentions. And yes, I am still mighty proud of them for working and living decently for the sake of their own families.

Mabuhay ang mga mabubuting Pinoy!

Mabuhay ang kalayaan!

Mamatay ang mga magnanakaw ng kalayaan! (hehe)

Every Woman and Mr. Big

A Donald Trump who only looked better.

I remember that this was how Samantha referred to Mr. Big back in Season 1--before Carrie's neverending on-and-off relationship with him started.

Oh I love Mr. Big. His larger than life character in Sex and the City is actually one which I can so relate some historic boylettes to. I love him in spite of all the Carrie love affair drama because somehow I find myself in the same pair of shoes that Carrie was in. (Let it be MANOLOS. Please!)

Last night, a friend was so full of similes in her SMS - her beau and Mr. Big being the two subjects of comparison. Months ago, another girl friend was doing the same thing.

And so it hit me: I am not alone. Mr. Big is someone every woman share.

The character of Mr. Big was created as an embodiment of a cosmopolitan woman's dream bachelor. Tall, good-looking, successful and rich - don't we all have thought of ourselves ending up with someone who meets the criteria. (Well, unless you're into short, ugly and miserable.) Look at how they kept him as Mr. Big and never revealed what his real name is. It was for us to keep a connection with him. Yet, when his name was later revealed in the movie, this connection seems to have lost. Mr. Big became Mr. Preston who gives Carrie a happily ever after ending - something which we all just are not sure to have.

But Mr. Big is every woman's Mr. Big not because of his fantastical stature. Women of 20s and 30s all over can connect to him simply because he represents that one special man who's came in and gone out of our lives for reasons we never know. He's the guy who seems to have loved us - shown it in ways not known in the books we read as little girls - but had a hard time (if not never) verbally expressing it. Every woman knows that he feels something for them but for some vague, incomprehensible reason, he cannot commit.

Yes, we felt like an ultimate priestess in high heels and tutu-like skirts (imagine the classic Carrie Bradshaw look) when he did all those lovely things to us. But after his disappearing act, we feel so reduced to nothing but well, a hot potato.

So after so many nights of partying hard with our girl friends, going home wasted and drunkdialling Mr. Big (not to mention the number of Kleenex boxes we consumed, the packs of cigarettes we shamlessly smoked, the number of times we sang Carly Simon's Nobody Does It Better while lying down drunk on our bedroom floor and the moments that we secretly felt like Bridget Jones), we realize that it's time for you to move on.

We meet someone like Adan. We think he's not as big as Mr. Big but we realize that he's actually the one who's good for us. We're contented and everyone knows we're happy. Then all of a sudden, coming from what-sort-of-void there is in our little worlds, our Mr. Big makes a re-appearance.

How many times have women been haunted by their past? How many times have we moved on only to find ourselves faced with our past once again? So that if we have made 15 slow and painful steps away from the past, we find ourselves quickly sliding 20 steps back.

Imagine going through this for so many times. Good god. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the rollercoaster ride of your dreams!

One unforgettable SATC episode was when Carrie told Mr. Big that he makes the worst timing whenever he comes back to her life. He reappears everytime Carrie is already happy and in a sense, ruins everything that she has worked hard for. (In this case, I think the void must've been our very own contentment... hmm?)

That Carrie moment struck a chord in me and I guess among countless other women too. It happened more than once, you know.

When Carrie finally made the big move to Paris with the older artiste, Aleksandr Petrovsky, I was happy for her but at the back of my head, I could not resist having my own what-ifs for her. Petrovky sounded like a Harlequin dream guy. He's the guy who seems to be the redeemer of fallen women.

It was a good thing that the movie ended with Mr. Big reappearing just when Carrie needed him the most. It was perfect timing for a perfect ending.

Now, won't you tell me who your Mr. Big is?


Author's Note: The article was revised from its originial write-up posted last year at one of her many, many blogs.

Paranoia, Heroes and Unconditional Love

I had a hard time sleeping for two or three consecutive nights last week. In as much as I do not want to write something so personal here, I just can't. Until now I am been bothered by FOUR MAJOR CATASTROPHES that happened this MAY.

1. The RCBC Bank Robbery - This plus the succeeding news story two Fridays ago--the one about the policeman being gunned down together with his wife and one-year old grandson-- and another story about a businessman/lawyer who was shot to be robbed of his P1 million withdrawal from the bank, bothered me so much. How can human persons be so ruthless?

2. The Burma Cyclone - I got so sick upon looking at the pictures of the Burma cyclone casualties and the RCBC Bank Robbery shots which arrived a few minutes earlier. I. Just. Cannot. Fathom. It. All.

3. The Pangasinan Typhoon - This is relatively insignificant compared to the first two and the next one. But wouldn't anyone be afraid that if it happened in Pangasinan, what are the odds that it cannot happen in your area? (Okay, I'm not knowledgeable on meteorology, volcanology and whatnot but disasters may strike anywhere.)

4. The Sichuan Earthquake - Oh God. Receiving the Heroes slideshow just made me cry. It was a very positive way of presenting what was--and remains to be a disaster. It was so great, so full of heroism and love that I have totally put my paranoia on shelf.

I guess my paranoia has been around because of my emphatic nature. It's like you tell me about this hospital which re-uses syringes on babies and gloves for IEs (this is a true case) and then I go like "Kawawa naman yung mga mahihirap. Mahihirap na nga sila, lalo pang nilalamangan." Then I'll be thinking of ways to put the "bad person" in his place. The next thing you know, I have already made a smilar scenario happening to my daughter and other loved ones in my head that I'll start asking everyone in the house to take precautions. Yeah, it's insane!

I believe in goodness; that man is good by nature. However, it so frustrates me to see people killng and hurting each other mercilessly. I know it's a natural part of human existence that you hurt and get hurt. But this is beyond being human.

But I am now at ease after reading some of the few heroic stories I have read in the slideshow.

It is good to know that UNCONDITIONAL LOVE manifested itself to the world. God, indeed, has risen above the rubble.




I pray that these children will grow up inspired by their parents' unconditional love. I also pray for the souls of the Chinese people--both dead and alive, and for all of us who share in their loss.

My Baby Is Now A Bata

I find her amazing.

I guess it's just natural for first time mothers to be so fond of watching their self-created mini-mes transform into children with their own personalities.

What I am so fond of my two-year old daughter is that she is a self-starter. She has surprised me and the rest of the family with things like memorizing the grace before meals and the bedtime prayer. She's practicing good table manners, READ: she knows how to use the utensils, leaves very little mess on her placemat, knows how to set the table and wipe her mouth.

She also "studies" alone at her own desk. I bought her a chair and study table last weekend and it has become her throne. She colors, draws, writes and reads there.

Then over the week, she surprised us all by pooing on her potty independently (she learned too pee earlier) and having her imaginary friends "Nuna" and "Chap." Sometimes she'd even call them on my mom's cellphone.

Hay nako. So many things as in so many surprising things talaga. It's just so great that I get to watch her grow. She's like a miracle in progress and I so, sooo love her.

Why I Love Shoes... Over Men

Let me tell you why...

One womanly wisdom famously passed on from mothers to daughters is to never step on a man's pride. Ever.

To make it easy to remember, just think: Step on a man's pride and you'll get a heart ache. Step on a fab pair of stilettos and you feel like a queen.

So won't it be a smart decision to have a pair of shoes you can always step on rather than a man thou shalt never challenge?

Another reason why I prefer shoes over men is that you can bring them along with you everywhere--from shopping trips to a girl's night out, and they won't ever complain. Though your feet will, at least, at the end of the day, you know that you only need a foot therapy for sacrificing comfort over style.

Unlike with men, it's always okay to lend a pair of shoes to a girl friend. There will be no jealousy involved and in fact, the owner can always give sincere tips on how to get sexy with them.

Shoes are also low maintenance. Except for a few minor repairs (and bet, you wouldn't mind your shoes getting a quick fix wit Mr. Quickie), it's also okay to leave a shoe alone and untouched in the closet. You can always be certain it's never gonna wander off with another owner. Sigh.

And most of all, you can keep tens, hundreds or even thousands of trophy shoes and NEVER be labeled promiscuous. But keeping two men around will certainly encourage chismis.

So can you blame me if I'd rather spend a Friday night shoe-hunting?