Monday, I got a text message from my mom saying that my sister's biopsy result turned out negative for the big C. Praise God nga naman :)
I've tried to look nonchalant, well, at least not too bothered with the scare since I went with her to the doctors last month. But there were times when I just wanted to go to the batcave and just cry. Just cry; without care about what other people would say, about what to say when they ask why, or just basta, let it all out. Not just the scare but all those things that just clutter my head and end up frustrating me and making me ask the omnipresent question, 'Why am I here?' Not just 'office' here. But more like, 'world' here. Those things which probably not even the best choco-peanut butter brownie or the most amazing chocolate chip walnut cookies couldn't drown out. Well, maybe for a few seconds, but the nagging question would ultimately pop up.
Undeniably, the answer to that question still isn't clear. It's as blurred as the rainbow that popped up 10 minutes ago. I know it's bound to be colorful, exciting...actually at this point all I can do really is hope/trust. That someday it's going to come out again, long enough for me to appreciate it fully and believe that it's real.
But for now, I would like to be content with the fact that Ate's well; the family's doing good; and life--with all its riddles and obvious but ignored facts, shouldn't be complicated. One simple test could've turned my family's world upside down. Negative. And everything's back to normal...well, semi-normal because having been forced to look at life in a different perspective still left me a bit shaken. In a good way, that is. Uncomfortable, but still safe to say, it's wonder-ful.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Happy thoughts / Anti-mundane Tuesday
Thoughts of the beach in my head.
Snippets of happy conversations from morning mates.
Mongol pencils. Sharpened and with erasers intact.
Reservation availabilities.
Approved lines.
Potentially-happy JO. (Is there such a thing? Oh, but it's a matter of perspective.)
People who just work.
Family pictures.
Planning beyond the wedding planning.
Thoughts of hot chocolate and pandesal.
Friends who stay the same/ change with you.
Memories and the ability to channel them at will.
Peter Pan.
Snippets of happy conversations from morning mates.
Mongol pencils. Sharpened and with erasers intact.
Reservation availabilities.
Approved lines.
Potentially-happy JO. (Is there such a thing? Oh, but it's a matter of perspective.)
People who just work.
Family pictures.
Planning beyond the wedding planning.
Thoughts of hot chocolate and pandesal.
Friends who stay the same/ change with you.
Memories and the ability to channel them at will.
Peter Pan.
Friday, February 06, 2009
Things I am grateful for today
It's a Friday :)
The trees along Sedeno that gives the morning walk a UP vibe.
The dogs that are just happy to be.
Mommy and daddy at breakfast with me.
Regi on Perea.
Friends that linger.
The ring on my finger.
Swiss Miss and bananas.
Positive seatmates.
Spongebob and Patrick.
Mac that doesn't crash.
Chucks.
Eheads.
Kermit the Frog.
Health.
First Friday Mass at the Enterprise.
Friday dinners.
Peanut butter!
The pimple that's gone.
The search for purpose. (although that's a bit frustrating, but it rocks my boat and keeps things real.)
Itunes. Qradio.
Autosave.
:)
The trees along Sedeno that gives the morning walk a UP vibe.
The dogs that are just happy to be.
Mommy and daddy at breakfast with me.
Regi on Perea.
Friends that linger.
The ring on my finger.
Swiss Miss and bananas.
Positive seatmates.
Spongebob and Patrick.
Mac that doesn't crash.
Chucks.
Eheads.
Kermit the Frog.
Health.
First Friday Mass at the Enterprise.
Friday dinners.
Peanut butter!
The pimple that's gone.
The search for purpose. (although that's a bit frustrating, but it rocks my boat and keeps things real.)
Itunes. Qradio.
Autosave.
:)
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
And so he proposed :)
It was the first day of 2009.
I have been in Arayat for most of the holidays. And my mom, dad and I went back home to Mandaluyong to fetch Sky and Marty and bring them back with us to Pampanga. Regi was insisting that we go out for dinner, but I kept on telling him that we ought to postpone it since we’ll get back home late. But, he kept on insisting.
So. My parents and I got home at 9pm. Regi was there waiting for me.
Regi: Tara, dinner tayo!
Cey: Pagoda. San mo gusto?
Regi: Chocolate Kiss!
Cey: Hwe? Jan 1 ngayon, gabi na, sarado na yun.
Regi: Pustahan tayo, bukas yun.
Cey: Metrowalk na lang. Starbucks tayo, libre kita, nanalo akong GC sa raffle e.
Regi: ChocKiss na, please?
Cey: Hmmm…
Regi: Pustahan tayo bukas yun!
So we went straight to UP. Honestly, I was smelling something fishy. Well, baka assuming lang ako. There had been jokes about the engagement in 08, so this set-up, plus his persistence on this dinner, added to his uber-confidence that he’ll make it up to me because he’s missed our family reunion for the 7th consecutive year…yup he was uber-confident with the line: Pag di ako nakabawi sayo, suntukin mo ko! We’re not the violent type, so this kind of confidence, given the fact that I could be matampuhin about these kinds of things made me think…he’s got something up his sleeves. Ok, I digress.
Anyway, so on the way to UP, I was thinking, teka, ano ‘to, he talked to the ChocKiss management and asked them to open up the resto just for us? Tapos may flowers, and one table set for two? May candle-lit dinner na may personal serbidor? With matching may nag-v-violin? How very Regal Films! Proposal na kaya? Yup, these things played in my head. Cliché, I know. At assuming nga naman ako, hanep.
So from MassComm, we turned right going to Bahay ng Alumni. A few meters from Chocolate Kiss, I was already expecting the cheesy love story visuals….Ayan na!!
Cut to…sarado ang Chocolate Kiss.
Oh. So I must’ve assumed way too much. He’s probably got something up his sleeves, but it definitely wasn’t a proposal.
Cey: Dapat nakipagpustahan ako e.
Regi: Ay, sarado…
Cey: Tara, Metrowalk na lang nga.
Regi: Ok, pero tara daan muna tayo sa tambayan.
So we went straight to the UP Chapel. Ang dilim. It was already 9:30pm, on a holiday. Of course, Apacible was deserted. Slightly nakakatakot.
Cey: Uhm…mag-make out ba sa tapat ng simbahan?
Regi: Grabe ka, ang baba naman ng tingin mo sakin.
Cey: Joke lang, eto naman.
Regi (pointing towards the ICTUS tambayan: Diba dyan tayo una nag-meet?
Cey: Uhmm, oo. Bakit?
Regi: (gets his backpack from the backseat, takes a yellow box, pops it open)
Cey:…..
Cey:….
Cey: (cries, slaps her face innumerable times and asks) Teka, totoo ba ‘to? Totoo ba to?
Regi: smiles.
Cey:…
Regi: still smiles…(teka were those tears in his eyes?o baka assuming na naman ako.)
Cey:…
Cey: Wait, di mo ba ko tatanungin ng ‘Will you marry me?’
Regi: Uhm, diba the ring should speak for itself? Atsaka ang cheesy e.
Cey: Diba…romantic?
Regi: Ay….ganun ba? Uhm…Will you…marry me?
Cey: (still crying. Yup, akala ko sa pelikula lang yun, pero ganun pala ang feeling) Yes.. Yes!
Regi: Sorry ha, gusto ko sana lumuhod sa labas, kaso baka ma-hold-up tayo.
So there. On Jan 1, 2009, we got engaged ☺ After only a few minutes in UP, we went straight back home to my parents where Regi told mommy and daddy, while holding up the ring (we put it back in the box para hindi weird na suot ko na tsaka pa lang kami nagpapaalam ☺ ) “Nag-propose po ako kay Cey…pwede na po ba?” Mommy and daddy said yes!
*Sigh*
It wasn’t the usual sweety-sweety proposal I’ve had in my head. But it was so Regi, and so true. It didn’t feel so much as a man proposing to his would-be wife; more like my best friend telling me we’re on our way to spending the rest of our lives together. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
I have been in Arayat for most of the holidays. And my mom, dad and I went back home to Mandaluyong to fetch Sky and Marty and bring them back with us to Pampanga. Regi was insisting that we go out for dinner, but I kept on telling him that we ought to postpone it since we’ll get back home late. But, he kept on insisting.
So. My parents and I got home at 9pm. Regi was there waiting for me.
Regi: Tara, dinner tayo!
Cey: Pagoda. San mo gusto?
Regi: Chocolate Kiss!
Cey: Hwe? Jan 1 ngayon, gabi na, sarado na yun.
Regi: Pustahan tayo, bukas yun.
Cey: Metrowalk na lang. Starbucks tayo, libre kita, nanalo akong GC sa raffle e.
Regi: ChocKiss na, please?
Cey: Hmmm…
Regi: Pustahan tayo bukas yun!
So we went straight to UP. Honestly, I was smelling something fishy. Well, baka assuming lang ako. There had been jokes about the engagement in 08, so this set-up, plus his persistence on this dinner, added to his uber-confidence that he’ll make it up to me because he’s missed our family reunion for the 7th consecutive year…yup he was uber-confident with the line: Pag di ako nakabawi sayo, suntukin mo ko! We’re not the violent type, so this kind of confidence, given the fact that I could be matampuhin about these kinds of things made me think…he’s got something up his sleeves. Ok, I digress.
Anyway, so on the way to UP, I was thinking, teka, ano ‘to, he talked to the ChocKiss management and asked them to open up the resto just for us? Tapos may flowers, and one table set for two? May candle-lit dinner na may personal serbidor? With matching may nag-v-violin? How very Regal Films! Proposal na kaya? Yup, these things played in my head. Cliché, I know. At assuming nga naman ako, hanep.
So from MassComm, we turned right going to Bahay ng Alumni. A few meters from Chocolate Kiss, I was already expecting the cheesy love story visuals….Ayan na!!
Cut to…sarado ang Chocolate Kiss.
Oh. So I must’ve assumed way too much. He’s probably got something up his sleeves, but it definitely wasn’t a proposal.
Cey: Dapat nakipagpustahan ako e.
Regi: Ay, sarado…
Cey: Tara, Metrowalk na lang nga.
Regi: Ok, pero tara daan muna tayo sa tambayan.
So we went straight to the UP Chapel. Ang dilim. It was already 9:30pm, on a holiday. Of course, Apacible was deserted. Slightly nakakatakot.
Cey: Uhm…mag-make out ba sa tapat ng simbahan?
Regi: Grabe ka, ang baba naman ng tingin mo sakin.
Cey: Joke lang, eto naman.
Regi (pointing towards the ICTUS tambayan: Diba dyan tayo una nag-meet?
Cey: Uhmm, oo. Bakit?
Regi: (gets his backpack from the backseat, takes a yellow box, pops it open)
Cey:…..
Cey:….
Cey: (cries, slaps her face innumerable times and asks) Teka, totoo ba ‘to? Totoo ba to?
Regi: smiles.
Cey:…
Regi: still smiles…(teka were those tears in his eyes?o baka assuming na naman ako.)
Cey:…
Cey: Wait, di mo ba ko tatanungin ng ‘Will you marry me?’
Regi: Uhm, diba the ring should speak for itself? Atsaka ang cheesy e.
Cey: Diba…romantic?
Regi: Ay….ganun ba? Uhm…Will you…marry me?
Cey: (still crying. Yup, akala ko sa pelikula lang yun, pero ganun pala ang feeling) Yes.. Yes!
Regi: Sorry ha, gusto ko sana lumuhod sa labas, kaso baka ma-hold-up tayo.
So there. On Jan 1, 2009, we got engaged ☺ After only a few minutes in UP, we went straight back home to my parents where Regi told mommy and daddy, while holding up the ring (we put it back in the box para hindi weird na suot ko na tsaka pa lang kami nagpapaalam ☺ ) “Nag-propose po ako kay Cey…pwede na po ba?” Mommy and daddy said yes!
*Sigh*
It wasn’t the usual sweety-sweety proposal I’ve had in my head. But it was so Regi, and so true. It didn’t feel so much as a man proposing to his would-be wife; more like my best friend telling me we’re on our way to spending the rest of our lives together. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Daddy's Tales
I love it when my dad talks about his happy childhood memories. Over dinner he told me how Lola Nene brought him and his siblings aboard a trailer attached to Lola’s jeep, to Darabulbol. Yup, catchy name, just had to write it down.
Anyway, Lola Nene was my dad’s tita. Her family had a piece of land in Darabulbol (sorry, just had to say it again) in Concepcion, Tarlac. They grew sugarcane. And during harvest season, she’d bring my dad, his brothers and sisters and cousins along as she transported the harvest from…Darabulbol…to Hacienda Luisita to be processed. It would usually take a few hours for it to be done, so she’d make a side trip and bring along my dad and company to the nearby river for a swim.
Oh how his eyes light up when he talks about those good ‘ol days. And he’d always laugh when he’d talk about that time when he and Tita Angge went fishing on that same river. They were so excited to use their fishing rods that they failed to exercise much care in handling the potentially dangerous, but seemingly harmless-looking hook on a long rod. I forgot whose lips or cheek got caught in those hooks when Tita Angge whipped up the fishing rod too far back—hooking an unaware cousin in the process. Must’ve been painful, but for a bunch of 7 or 8 year olds on a summer vacation, it must’ve been so funny that it sent them on a laugh trip all the way back home to San Fernando. I guess it wasn’t that big an injury. None of them grew up to be Scarface.
Or that story about that time when they’ve grown tired of flying their kites, that they rested on the haystacks…not really haystacks but stacks of palay and they pulled at the harvest, eating some bits like butong-pakwan, up until the owner realized that there were intruders playing on his ricefields.
I suddenly remembered those times my cousins and I tried to catch dragonflies and grasshoppers. And that time when Joy, Chito, and I think LA too, found a huge pile of carabao dung on the road. We used grass stalks to draw on it and turn it into a mighty foul-smelling, but cute, birthday cake. We were careful not to touch it though. Who would’ve thought you could have so much fun when life brings along a huge pile of shit?
It’s a pity my nephews and nieces can’t have these same stories. Them with their PSPs and DS. But I guess they’ll have their own stories to look back on when they’re this age. I just hope I could do the same things for them, as those my daddy did for me.
Suddenly I feel I ought to write a piece on mommy as well. But that’s a whole new article altogether. Just as happy, and just as filled with love.
Anyway, Lola Nene was my dad’s tita. Her family had a piece of land in Darabulbol (sorry, just had to say it again) in Concepcion, Tarlac. They grew sugarcane. And during harvest season, she’d bring my dad, his brothers and sisters and cousins along as she transported the harvest from…Darabulbol…to Hacienda Luisita to be processed. It would usually take a few hours for it to be done, so she’d make a side trip and bring along my dad and company to the nearby river for a swim.
Oh how his eyes light up when he talks about those good ‘ol days. And he’d always laugh when he’d talk about that time when he and Tita Angge went fishing on that same river. They were so excited to use their fishing rods that they failed to exercise much care in handling the potentially dangerous, but seemingly harmless-looking hook on a long rod. I forgot whose lips or cheek got caught in those hooks when Tita Angge whipped up the fishing rod too far back—hooking an unaware cousin in the process. Must’ve been painful, but for a bunch of 7 or 8 year olds on a summer vacation, it must’ve been so funny that it sent them on a laugh trip all the way back home to San Fernando. I guess it wasn’t that big an injury. None of them grew up to be Scarface.
Or that story about that time when they’ve grown tired of flying their kites, that they rested on the haystacks…not really haystacks but stacks of palay and they pulled at the harvest, eating some bits like butong-pakwan, up until the owner realized that there were intruders playing on his ricefields.
I suddenly remembered those times my cousins and I tried to catch dragonflies and grasshoppers. And that time when Joy, Chito, and I think LA too, found a huge pile of carabao dung on the road. We used grass stalks to draw on it and turn it into a mighty foul-smelling, but cute, birthday cake. We were careful not to touch it though. Who would’ve thought you could have so much fun when life brings along a huge pile of shit?
It’s a pity my nephews and nieces can’t have these same stories. Them with their PSPs and DS. But I guess they’ll have their own stories to look back on when they’re this age. I just hope I could do the same things for them, as those my daddy did for me.
Suddenly I feel I ought to write a piece on mommy as well. But that’s a whole new article altogether. Just as happy, and just as filled with love.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Christmas, the coffee to my soul.
"We tend to withdraw our love from people who disappoint us."
That was the Homily Father Dave gave after reading the Gospel on Christ’s genealogy. Normally I would’ve just zoned-out somewhere between Abraham and…Joseph, but due to two scoops of instant coffee plus some Chips Ahoy, I was off zombie mode. And I was listening intently to what the priest was saying on what would’ve been just another Wednesday mass. Though sometimes I caught myself jittering in my seat, shaking my feet a bit, biting my lips…as if I’ve suddenly gotten too much residual energy (almost made me think the coffee’s spiked) I felt like all my senses were heightened. I was listening. I was looking at the Christmas decors, I was feeling the cold and nippy air, and I sat there, knowing that I was happy. Everything was coming through my senses and everything was being processed. Even the homily that struck me as true, poignant, and even to a point was a hurtful realization--made me, weirdly, happy. Because truth spewed out so simply, laid out plainly before my face was just nice. Whom have I withdrawn my love from? Who could’ve withdrawn their love from me? I don’t know. Well, I sort of know. Suddenly the nasty habit has been exposed. So bluntly put that it's amazing how something so obvious could all of a sudden spark a profound realization. But this doesn’t feel like the time to go on accounting for love withdrawn or deposited. This felt more like the time of simply being conscious of what’s been happening. Of the things that would otherwise have passed me by as I breezed through life on auto-pilot. Now that the nasty habit's been exposed, it's time for conscious effort to (hopefully) kick-in some reform.
Life’s too short to be spent hurting.
There’s no such thing as hopeless cases, only hopeless people.
If God Himself never gave up on us, then we shouldn’t give up on ourselves too.
Nice words from Father Dave. Things which he had already said numerous Wednesdays. For some reason, Christmas just made me feel more aware of what they meant. Set in the backdrop of lechon, chirpy people on the walkway happily spending their Christmas bonuses on gifts, Starbucks, and Christmas lunches, celebrations, and even more lechon (Cebu lechon, hrmmmm...with the oomphly flavorful meat, so tender...I digress), these words just seemed to have more of the wakey-wakey factor.
Bittersweet words--set on Christmas time, are more sweet than bitter. And they just made me feel more happy, grateful, awake to my own life.
==========
Don’t forget, Ceycey:
Sidenote. On this day, I finally met ‘Mang Johnny’. The nice old man who always heard mass by the doorway near GB5; and always had that ‘I’m happy to be alive, I hope you are too’ smile.
Another sidenote: I never would’ve thought that was the list’s relevance—the enumeration of names was a testament to how God won’t ‘withdraw his love’ from us. Down the line from Abraham to Jesus were people who were adulterers, dishonest, basically sinners—but from that gene pool came Christ. God ought to have been disappointed, but still, he chose to love. Father Dave Concepcion rocks.
That was the Homily Father Dave gave after reading the Gospel on Christ’s genealogy. Normally I would’ve just zoned-out somewhere between Abraham and…Joseph, but due to two scoops of instant coffee plus some Chips Ahoy, I was off zombie mode. And I was listening intently to what the priest was saying on what would’ve been just another Wednesday mass. Though sometimes I caught myself jittering in my seat, shaking my feet a bit, biting my lips…as if I’ve suddenly gotten too much residual energy (almost made me think the coffee’s spiked) I felt like all my senses were heightened. I was listening. I was looking at the Christmas decors, I was feeling the cold and nippy air, and I sat there, knowing that I was happy. Everything was coming through my senses and everything was being processed. Even the homily that struck me as true, poignant, and even to a point was a hurtful realization--made me, weirdly, happy. Because truth spewed out so simply, laid out plainly before my face was just nice. Whom have I withdrawn my love from? Who could’ve withdrawn their love from me? I don’t know. Well, I sort of know. Suddenly the nasty habit has been exposed. So bluntly put that it's amazing how something so obvious could all of a sudden spark a profound realization. But this doesn’t feel like the time to go on accounting for love withdrawn or deposited. This felt more like the time of simply being conscious of what’s been happening. Of the things that would otherwise have passed me by as I breezed through life on auto-pilot. Now that the nasty habit's been exposed, it's time for conscious effort to (hopefully) kick-in some reform.
Life’s too short to be spent hurting.
There’s no such thing as hopeless cases, only hopeless people.
If God Himself never gave up on us, then we shouldn’t give up on ourselves too.
Nice words from Father Dave. Things which he had already said numerous Wednesdays. For some reason, Christmas just made me feel more aware of what they meant. Set in the backdrop of lechon, chirpy people on the walkway happily spending their Christmas bonuses on gifts, Starbucks, and Christmas lunches, celebrations, and even more lechon (Cebu lechon, hrmmmm...with the oomphly flavorful meat, so tender...I digress), these words just seemed to have more of the wakey-wakey factor.
Bittersweet words--set on Christmas time, are more sweet than bitter. And they just made me feel more happy, grateful, awake to my own life.
==========
Don’t forget, Ceycey:
Sidenote. On this day, I finally met ‘Mang Johnny’. The nice old man who always heard mass by the doorway near GB5; and always had that ‘I’m happy to be alive, I hope you are too’ smile.
Another sidenote: I never would’ve thought that was the list’s relevance—the enumeration of names was a testament to how God won’t ‘withdraw his love’ from us. Down the line from Abraham to Jesus were people who were adulterers, dishonest, basically sinners—but from that gene pool came Christ. God ought to have been disappointed, but still, he chose to love. Father Dave Concepcion rocks.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Choco-peanut butter bars
These days I've been as volatile as the stock market; bailed-out/ pleasantly buoyed by choco-peanut butter bars.
First one from that pleasant girl at Starbucks named Dimples who kindly checked the storage freezer to find that there were still 2 bars left; the other one from Popo who passed by the office tonight (after my having said no to innumerable invitations to simply meet up) to...what have we here...hand over a much-needed peanut butter bar.
I suspect that God bribes me with food. That feels a bit blasphemous, having to use the word 'bribe', but I know He knows what I mean. Sweetness, nga naman, feels much sweeter on those days when things seem undeniably, bland. And what I can't seem to get a taste of in Life, my tongue gets to at least cherish for a few moments. Not exactly a fair deal. But definitely, better than air.
Although I am deeply hoping it's there. I haven't gotten around to appreciating the flavors completely. It has to be there. Whatever It is.
First one from that pleasant girl at Starbucks named Dimples who kindly checked the storage freezer to find that there were still 2 bars left; the other one from Popo who passed by the office tonight (after my having said no to innumerable invitations to simply meet up) to...what have we here...hand over a much-needed peanut butter bar.
I suspect that God bribes me with food. That feels a bit blasphemous, having to use the word 'bribe', but I know He knows what I mean. Sweetness, nga naman, feels much sweeter on those days when things seem undeniably, bland. And what I can't seem to get a taste of in Life, my tongue gets to at least cherish for a few moments. Not exactly a fair deal. But definitely, better than air.
Although I am deeply hoping it's there. I haven't gotten around to appreciating the flavors completely. It has to be there. Whatever It is.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Move.
Another sunset.
Another color on the grayish-bluish sky.
And still.
Nothing.
What would amount to something?
Apart from the marks on the to-do list.
And yet another day near Friday.
Who keeps count anyway?
Nobody. You.
And that nagging feeling you get when you lay down in bed and ask yourself, so what have we done well today?
If only purpose came from a fortune cookie.
With chocolate chips, and some peanut butter.
I'd probably gobble it down and keep on wondering, still.
Another color on the grayish-bluish sky.
And still.
Nothing.
What would amount to something?
Apart from the marks on the to-do list.
And yet another day near Friday.
Who keeps count anyway?
Nobody. You.
And that nagging feeling you get when you lay down in bed and ask yourself, so what have we done well today?
If only purpose came from a fortune cookie.
With chocolate chips, and some peanut butter.
I'd probably gobble it down and keep on wondering, still.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Today I met Pogi
It's one of those days when you tell yourself, zzzz... Let's just get this day over and done with. But when dad dropped me off at the usual spot in front of Makati Sports, I was in for a pleasant surprise.
There he was, standing, enjoying the cool air...I came near him tentatively. But I couldn't help myself so I just had to go near him. So I asked Ate, "Can I pet him?"
Ate:Oo, mabait yan.
So I sat down, patted his fluffy head and couldn't stop saying, "Hello...hello, ang cute cute mooooo!"
Cey: Ate, ano'ng pangalan nya?
Ate Nita (I asked for her name too :): Pogi.
Ganda.
He was all-black. All-hairy. Looked like a stocky bear with feet so short his tummy would touch the ground if he took on a few more pounds. Apparently he's a cross between a chowchow and some other breed (a lab, I guess) So imagine this: he had the head of a lab, but furrier, and the body of a chowchow! He looked like a live teddy bear! And he just stood there, wagged his tail as I went on patting his head saying "Hello, pogi! Helloo" with that irritating pitch my voice takes on when I see something/someone really cute.
Chris Abani said, "I will know my humanity only when it's reflected back to me." He was talking about ubuntu, I think.
This morning, for some strange reason, it felt like my humanity was reflected back to me, by a dog. Weird as it may sound, it felt nice. And I walked to the office with a slightly different gait.
There he was, standing, enjoying the cool air...I came near him tentatively. But I couldn't help myself so I just had to go near him. So I asked Ate, "Can I pet him?"
Ate:Oo, mabait yan.
So I sat down, patted his fluffy head and couldn't stop saying, "Hello...hello, ang cute cute mooooo!"
Cey: Ate, ano'ng pangalan nya?
Ate Nita (I asked for her name too :): Pogi.
Ganda.
He was all-black. All-hairy. Looked like a stocky bear with feet so short his tummy would touch the ground if he took on a few more pounds. Apparently he's a cross between a chowchow and some other breed (a lab, I guess) So imagine this: he had the head of a lab, but furrier, and the body of a chowchow! He looked like a live teddy bear! And he just stood there, wagged his tail as I went on patting his head saying "Hello, pogi! Helloo" with that irritating pitch my voice takes on when I see something/someone really cute.
Chris Abani said, "I will know my humanity only when it's reflected back to me." He was talking about ubuntu, I think.
This morning, for some strange reason, it felt like my humanity was reflected back to me, by a dog. Weird as it may sound, it felt nice. And I walked to the office with a slightly different gait.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Eraserheads. Ligaya. Alapaap. Wag sanang Huling El Bimbo.
Last night: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
No, wait...I take it back. It wasn’t the worst of times. It was a preview of heaven. A miracle in 45 minutes. It was cut short because Ely had to be rushed to the hospital. I was sad. At some point as Laly (Ely’s sister) read the message onstage, saying that Ely was thankful for the support and was truly regretful that he couldn’t go on further due to his ailing heart (after a heart operation and his mom dying, ailing is an understatement) at the back of my mind I was still hoping that someone onstage would say, “Jokejokejoke! Here comes Ely!” It would’ve been in such bad taste, but having them go on for 2 more sets would’ve sent me straight off to Nirvana.
It was sad because everyone got worried about Ely. But I pray that God would give him more years of song-writing…and hopefully, more years for Eheads.
That’s the thing about Eheads, it’s like a marriage of cool people. Individually they’re good, cool; but strewn together and they make magic happen. Their songs are their wonderful kids, their gifts to the world, their tickets to immortality. The very insurance that long after they’re gone, their names would go on. Because their songs will still stir anyone’s soul.
My voice is still hoarse from last night. With each song they played, I sang with them. I sang my heart, innards, even the tiny hangnail at the side of the littlest toe on my foot sang out. There they were, Markus, Raimund, Buddy, and Ely (THE ERASERHEADS. Admittedly, I can’t think of the band surviving without Ely. But neither would it stand without Markus, Buddy or Raimund. As I said, theirs was a marriage. And it could not have worked out that much…sorry for using the term again…magic, were it not for these people who were so right for each other; na minsan sa may Kalayaan ay pinagtagpo…naging tunay na…magkaibigan.)
It was effortless magic onstage. And it felt amazing to just close my eyes, sing all-out and dance…dance like nobody was watching. Each song they played spoke to me, and probably to every other person in the 45,000 people in the audience. Do they know me? How come they’re singing about my life? How could they have been so great? How could they have let something this beautiful end?
Not just the concert. The band. They have their reasons. And the cliché ‘Some good things never last’ comes to mind. But it doesn’t feel apt. Because though the band stopped playing, they never really ended the music. The magic never got erased.
At the start of the concert, as the countdown ended and I heard the first chords to Alapaap, I almost exploded. 10 years I’ve waited for this. The last time I saw them was at Cervini Hall, I still remember the shirt I wore. The hoarse croak that came out of my mouth when it finally ended. The sweat that covered every microcentimeter of my body. It was mind-blowing. Amazing. Like no other. No matter how hard I try to describe it, I never could. And last night, with that one chord, I swear, I almost exploded…with so much emotions, with such intensity to finally come in for the kill, and release all the pent-up AAAAhhhhhhs!!! Woooohooooooooooos!!!! That only their songs could heartfuly solicit.
Nobody does it better.
I think it was in the middle of Shake yer head that I raised my eyes to the skies as I gyrated to their music and I sang along, that I thought: Pwede na. Pwede na kong mamatay. But syempre, I recanted that statement right away. I don’t want to die. Not just yet. But seeing them there once again, it was like (sorry to be baduy) a dream come true. It’s one of those things that’s probably in my ‘things to do before I die list’ if ever I made one: See the Eheads in concert again.
I’m not so sure which song, I think it was after ‘Kailan’ when Ely said, “Thank you!”
And as people in the crowd took a few seconds of rest, I shouted out back “Thank you! Thank you!”
And I say, Thank you for the music. You don’t know me. I don’t know you personally. But your music has been the theme songs of my life.
Wag kang matakot na umibig at lumuha…kasama mo naman ako.
Lift your head, baby don’t be scared of the things that could go wrong along the way.
When you find yourself in a compromising spot, you should know you shouldn’t take all that dog food that they make. You’d just as soon as put yourself on the stake and burn. You’ll see it coming around. You’ll see it coming around. Oh, when you’ll see it coming around…you just…yeah…shake yer head and walk away.
How it feels so strange, to have grown and changed. Now it’s not the same…’cause time, slips and slides into another place and try as we might to understand each other doesn’t really matter where you are however near, is still so far. It’s like you’re light years away. You’re light years away, from me.
Magkahawak ang ating kamay, at walang kamalay-malay…na tinuruan mo ang puso ko na umibig na tunay.
You were there. For 45 minutes you were there. And then the lights went down. And it was time to go. An abrupt goodbye. It was sad, and worrying because someone’s life was on the line. Thank God, as of last night, text messages were saying that Ely had been in a stable condition. (and it was amazing how everyone really prayed for that minute when the organizers asked everyone to offer a prayer for Ely). Sad…but again, it’s a matter of perspective. Still, that was 45 minutes of magic. An offering of music that spoke to everyone in an indescribable way. Music that cuts through age and socio-economic class. Sincerely, the people there was a microcosm of the Philippine society. Everyone from the cono to the jolog spectrum had been represented. Probably if the Eheads would ask for a rally, just imagine the crowd they could draw. Unbelievable charisma. Such honest words. Such piercing lyrics that never pretended to be anything other than what they really say. Not to sound blasphemous, but they are the Buddha of Philippine music. Each song has an undeniable piece of wisdom to impart. Yeah yeah, some lines could be taken as bullcrap (a part of me cringes at that blasphemy), but it’s the kind of bullcrap that stops you off your tracks and makes you go and think…Oo nga ano.
Seeing them up there made me think. I want to be an Eraserhead. No, not sing (heaven forbid) or play the drums, bass or guitar (although I tried to learn the guitar back in hs just so I could play their songs on Jingle). But be as great as them. Have passion for my craft. Speak to everyone, move them with my words, breach barriers, and stir people into believing that there will always be reason to scream at life like there’s no tomorrow.
Masdan mo aking mata, di mo ba nakikita?
Ako’y lumililipad at nasa alapaap na.
Gusto mo bang sumama?
Salamat, salamat Eheads.
No, wait...I take it back. It wasn’t the worst of times. It was a preview of heaven. A miracle in 45 minutes. It was cut short because Ely had to be rushed to the hospital. I was sad. At some point as Laly (Ely’s sister) read the message onstage, saying that Ely was thankful for the support and was truly regretful that he couldn’t go on further due to his ailing heart (after a heart operation and his mom dying, ailing is an understatement) at the back of my mind I was still hoping that someone onstage would say, “Jokejokejoke! Here comes Ely!” It would’ve been in such bad taste, but having them go on for 2 more sets would’ve sent me straight off to Nirvana.
It was sad because everyone got worried about Ely. But I pray that God would give him more years of song-writing…and hopefully, more years for Eheads.
That’s the thing about Eheads, it’s like a marriage of cool people. Individually they’re good, cool; but strewn together and they make magic happen. Their songs are their wonderful kids, their gifts to the world, their tickets to immortality. The very insurance that long after they’re gone, their names would go on. Because their songs will still stir anyone’s soul.
My voice is still hoarse from last night. With each song they played, I sang with them. I sang my heart, innards, even the tiny hangnail at the side of the littlest toe on my foot sang out. There they were, Markus, Raimund, Buddy, and Ely (THE ERASERHEADS. Admittedly, I can’t think of the band surviving without Ely. But neither would it stand without Markus, Buddy or Raimund. As I said, theirs was a marriage. And it could not have worked out that much…sorry for using the term again…magic, were it not for these people who were so right for each other; na minsan sa may Kalayaan ay pinagtagpo…naging tunay na…magkaibigan.)
It was effortless magic onstage. And it felt amazing to just close my eyes, sing all-out and dance…dance like nobody was watching. Each song they played spoke to me, and probably to every other person in the 45,000 people in the audience. Do they know me? How come they’re singing about my life? How could they have been so great? How could they have let something this beautiful end?
Not just the concert. The band. They have their reasons. And the cliché ‘Some good things never last’ comes to mind. But it doesn’t feel apt. Because though the band stopped playing, they never really ended the music. The magic never got erased.
At the start of the concert, as the countdown ended and I heard the first chords to Alapaap, I almost exploded. 10 years I’ve waited for this. The last time I saw them was at Cervini Hall, I still remember the shirt I wore. The hoarse croak that came out of my mouth when it finally ended. The sweat that covered every microcentimeter of my body. It was mind-blowing. Amazing. Like no other. No matter how hard I try to describe it, I never could. And last night, with that one chord, I swear, I almost exploded…with so much emotions, with such intensity to finally come in for the kill, and release all the pent-up AAAAhhhhhhs!!! Woooohooooooooooos!!!! That only their songs could heartfuly solicit.
Nobody does it better.
I think it was in the middle of Shake yer head that I raised my eyes to the skies as I gyrated to their music and I sang along, that I thought: Pwede na. Pwede na kong mamatay. But syempre, I recanted that statement right away. I don’t want to die. Not just yet. But seeing them there once again, it was like (sorry to be baduy) a dream come true. It’s one of those things that’s probably in my ‘things to do before I die list’ if ever I made one: See the Eheads in concert again.
I’m not so sure which song, I think it was after ‘Kailan’ when Ely said, “Thank you!”
And as people in the crowd took a few seconds of rest, I shouted out back “Thank you! Thank you!”
And I say, Thank you for the music. You don’t know me. I don’t know you personally. But your music has been the theme songs of my life.
Wag kang matakot na umibig at lumuha…kasama mo naman ako.
Lift your head, baby don’t be scared of the things that could go wrong along the way.
When you find yourself in a compromising spot, you should know you shouldn’t take all that dog food that they make. You’d just as soon as put yourself on the stake and burn. You’ll see it coming around. You’ll see it coming around. Oh, when you’ll see it coming around…you just…yeah…shake yer head and walk away.
How it feels so strange, to have grown and changed. Now it’s not the same…’cause time, slips and slides into another place and try as we might to understand each other doesn’t really matter where you are however near, is still so far. It’s like you’re light years away. You’re light years away, from me.
Magkahawak ang ating kamay, at walang kamalay-malay…na tinuruan mo ang puso ko na umibig na tunay.
You were there. For 45 minutes you were there. And then the lights went down. And it was time to go. An abrupt goodbye. It was sad, and worrying because someone’s life was on the line. Thank God, as of last night, text messages were saying that Ely had been in a stable condition. (and it was amazing how everyone really prayed for that minute when the organizers asked everyone to offer a prayer for Ely). Sad…but again, it’s a matter of perspective. Still, that was 45 minutes of magic. An offering of music that spoke to everyone in an indescribable way. Music that cuts through age and socio-economic class. Sincerely, the people there was a microcosm of the Philippine society. Everyone from the cono to the jolog spectrum had been represented. Probably if the Eheads would ask for a rally, just imagine the crowd they could draw. Unbelievable charisma. Such honest words. Such piercing lyrics that never pretended to be anything other than what they really say. Not to sound blasphemous, but they are the Buddha of Philippine music. Each song has an undeniable piece of wisdom to impart. Yeah yeah, some lines could be taken as bullcrap (a part of me cringes at that blasphemy), but it’s the kind of bullcrap that stops you off your tracks and makes you go and think…Oo nga ano.
Seeing them up there made me think. I want to be an Eraserhead. No, not sing (heaven forbid) or play the drums, bass or guitar (although I tried to learn the guitar back in hs just so I could play their songs on Jingle). But be as great as them. Have passion for my craft. Speak to everyone, move them with my words, breach barriers, and stir people into believing that there will always be reason to scream at life like there’s no tomorrow.
Masdan mo aking mata, di mo ba nakikita?
Ako’y lumililipad at nasa alapaap na.
Gusto mo bang sumama?
Salamat, salamat Eheads.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Float like an ant on a leaf.
Today I will take the lead on my life.
I will call the shots.
And for this moment...I decide to float.
At least on that point, I decided.
But sincerely, this is just one of those days when I can't seem to make myself go forward. Must be the disappointments that just topped one over the other. Makes me want to ask: so what's the point?
But I know there is a reason why things happen. Or for my part, why they don't. And for this time why things just seem to be on a standstill.
So I choose to float.
From one perspective, it's like recklessly letting go. Or less profoundly, simply giving up.
From another perspective, it's like telling the universe: I'm all open. Take me wherever.
For this moment I will be an ant on a leaf. I will go where the stream brings me. Hold on to the corners lest my raft topple over. And if it does, so what. Who says ants can't breathe under water? Or who knows if I'll enjoy the swim? Or if the leaf with bring me over to yet another dry land, or a magical place where fairies will happily invite me to play with them.
The hope for magic shall keep me afloat.
I will call the shots.
And for this moment...I decide to float.
At least on that point, I decided.
But sincerely, this is just one of those days when I can't seem to make myself go forward. Must be the disappointments that just topped one over the other. Makes me want to ask: so what's the point?
But I know there is a reason why things happen. Or for my part, why they don't. And for this time why things just seem to be on a standstill.
So I choose to float.
From one perspective, it's like recklessly letting go. Or less profoundly, simply giving up.
From another perspective, it's like telling the universe: I'm all open. Take me wherever.
For this moment I will be an ant on a leaf. I will go where the stream brings me. Hold on to the corners lest my raft topple over. And if it does, so what. Who says ants can't breathe under water? Or who knows if I'll enjoy the swim? Or if the leaf with bring me over to yet another dry land, or a magical place where fairies will happily invite me to play with them.
The hope for magic shall keep me afloat.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
On happiness and weekdays
I've long been telling myself that happiness shouldn't wait for weekends.
But waiting for Friday night to suddenly feel elated and get myself to feel excited for yet another day seems to be a weekend thing. Or at least getting out of bed without feeling like the sheets are holding me down is.
But this week was special.
No special occasion. But I've been out on dinners with friends, meeting up with special people almost every other night. I have nothing profound to say. I know no other witty way of saying this. But the wonderful learning for this week is: weekdays...better put: work-weeks can be happy.
I am blogging this to remind myself of this feeling when pitch season comes :) I am happy. I will remember this feeling even when I don't feel like it, and the universe will lead me to this blog post when my soul needs to recharge.
Tomorrow is a saturday. But I will have to come to Makati to work. But not even the rains nor the back-to-back fgd sessions can dampen my mood. I am happy.
Reiki thoughts from eca:
Just for today I will trust.
Bo Sanchez's prayer: (one of the many probably :)
Lord let me be a blessing to others.
Connect? I can't be a happy friend, if I'm not happy. Basic yun e, you can't give what you don't have. So I make a conscious effort to keep my happy reserves on high.
I came back to my table at the sight of 4 happy dvd's from Lilit. (that plus 2 others Mark gave me this morning!) I hate watching movies with sad endings (not that I hate them, at some point they are cathartic. But I'd rather get enlightenment with a laugh than with a heavy heart). Not only because there are far too many things to be sad about already (need I go past page1 of the newspaper?) and I believe that watching movies should at least remove one from reality and offer comfort in the thought that if that happy ending happened in reel life, then maybe it could translate to real life--in one way or another. (well, the writer ought to have had some happy event in his/her life to have based beautiful moments on right? nobody could ever be so da** creative as to make something so happy up without having had even a bit of joy in his/her life. )
...I digress...I don't like sad movies because...well to be more positive, I just like happy movies more. Because I'd like to remind myself constantly that life is happy.
It's like research. It's easier to make a decision with complete (or as near to complete) information. Choosing to be happy becomes a lot easier when I fill my head with fun things. Things that make me believe in the goodness of people over and over again. Happy stuff that make me believe that crappy things happen for a reason; that the best things in life are those that we already have; that life shouldn't be hard work; that purpose can bring the fun back to work; that love lives; that peace is possible; that all things panget come to pass; that God believes in us. That family and friends are...like eraserheads songs--you'll never forget their words, you will always have fun hearing them, you can sing all you want, misstep and miss the right tune and not be judged, and no matter how long the time may have passed between you, they will always bring you joy.
Happy movies. Happy life.
But waiting for Friday night to suddenly feel elated and get myself to feel excited for yet another day seems to be a weekend thing. Or at least getting out of bed without feeling like the sheets are holding me down is.
But this week was special.
No special occasion. But I've been out on dinners with friends, meeting up with special people almost every other night. I have nothing profound to say. I know no other witty way of saying this. But the wonderful learning for this week is: weekdays...better put: work-weeks can be happy.
I am blogging this to remind myself of this feeling when pitch season comes :) I am happy. I will remember this feeling even when I don't feel like it, and the universe will lead me to this blog post when my soul needs to recharge.
Tomorrow is a saturday. But I will have to come to Makati to work. But not even the rains nor the back-to-back fgd sessions can dampen my mood. I am happy.
Reiki thoughts from eca:
Just for today I will trust.
Bo Sanchez's prayer: (one of the many probably :)
Lord let me be a blessing to others.
Connect? I can't be a happy friend, if I'm not happy. Basic yun e, you can't give what you don't have. So I make a conscious effort to keep my happy reserves on high.
I came back to my table at the sight of 4 happy dvd's from Lilit. (that plus 2 others Mark gave me this morning!) I hate watching movies with sad endings (not that I hate them, at some point they are cathartic. But I'd rather get enlightenment with a laugh than with a heavy heart). Not only because there are far too many things to be sad about already (need I go past page1 of the newspaper?) and I believe that watching movies should at least remove one from reality and offer comfort in the thought that if that happy ending happened in reel life, then maybe it could translate to real life--in one way or another. (well, the writer ought to have had some happy event in his/her life to have based beautiful moments on right? nobody could ever be so da** creative as to make something so happy up without having had even a bit of joy in his/her life. )
...I digress...I don't like sad movies because...well to be more positive, I just like happy movies more. Because I'd like to remind myself constantly that life is happy.
It's like research. It's easier to make a decision with complete (or as near to complete) information. Choosing to be happy becomes a lot easier when I fill my head with fun things. Things that make me believe in the goodness of people over and over again. Happy stuff that make me believe that crappy things happen for a reason; that the best things in life are those that we already have; that life shouldn't be hard work; that purpose can bring the fun back to work; that love lives; that peace is possible; that all things panget come to pass; that God believes in us. That family and friends are...like eraserheads songs--you'll never forget their words, you will always have fun hearing them, you can sing all you want, misstep and miss the right tune and not be judged, and no matter how long the time may have passed between you, they will always bring you joy.
Happy movies. Happy life.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Breathe
Instead of blowing off some steam, I took a deep breath, counted from 1 to 10 ala Enteng Kabisote (albeit in my head) and refused to snip a few minutes off my lifespan due to unnecessary anxiety.
Note from last night's prayer meeting: He who angers you, controls you.
spoken like a true jedi.
Yoda in my mind.
Note from last night's prayer meeting: He who angers you, controls you.
spoken like a true jedi.
Yoda in my mind.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Joy Begets Joy
I've lost count of the number of days. But lately, I've been feeling happy. I hate to say this, but I think the number of OT hours seems to be inversely proportional to the amount of joy. But wait, said the mouse (ika nga ni maui) OT din naman kami ngayon, pero hmmm, i feel, happy.
Must be because of the joy refills I've been having for the past few weeks. HS barkada , sila Maui't Eca, si Regi, ang constant date with la familia. Kahit dito sa office, masaya mga tao e, kahit OT. And nope, I'm not rationalizing the late nights. May ligaya talaga. Of course if I had it my way it would have been much better if we were spending our quality time at Gweilo's (oo, kahit chicharong bulaklak, mani at mainit na tubig ang inaatupag ko) rather than working on JO's. Pero...totoo pala yung sinasabi nilang choose to be happy. Syempre may bumps along the road, pwede ba namang wala. Pero exciting naman ang byahe.
Random thoughts: Reiki, the secret, bo sanchez, alvaro del portillo.
Admittedly, ang hirap pa rin hilahin ang sarili mula sa kama tuwing umaga. Ang sarap lang matulog e. Pero lately, mas masarap ang life.
Must be because of the joy refills I've been having for the past few weeks. HS barkada , sila Maui't Eca, si Regi, ang constant date with la familia. Kahit dito sa office, masaya mga tao e, kahit OT. And nope, I'm not rationalizing the late nights. May ligaya talaga. Of course if I had it my way it would have been much better if we were spending our quality time at Gweilo's (oo, kahit chicharong bulaklak, mani at mainit na tubig ang inaatupag ko) rather than working on JO's. Pero...totoo pala yung sinasabi nilang choose to be happy. Syempre may bumps along the road, pwede ba namang wala. Pero exciting naman ang byahe.
Random thoughts: Reiki, the secret, bo sanchez, alvaro del portillo.
Admittedly, ang hirap pa rin hilahin ang sarili mula sa kama tuwing umaga. Ang sarap lang matulog e. Pero lately, mas masarap ang life.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Paging Mr.Wonka
If you're out there, can we talk?
I know some people hate it when bloggers just post song lyrics and that's it. But, heck, it's a nice song, and the lyrics are worth, if not blogging about, at the very least glossing over.
Must've been so easy for a man who lived in a chocolate factory to say such sweet words. When I get married, I'd like this to be the wedding march. Not to say that true love and all those supposedly nice things about wedded life is of pure imagination, but I guess it's...a nice reminder. That when things could get rough, you could always rely on pure imagination to make things better; or hopefully, have enough memories to back up the imagined thoughts to spin you back to the good life.
It's too late in the day to be talking about marriage.
It's not even my intention to be writing about it.
I. I. I don't know. I just wish Willy Wonka's a real person and that I could talk to him. Ask for some formula on how to liven up and summon what he calls pure imagination. Lately, lately mine's been caged. Not exactly, more like...uncooperative.
So Mr. Wonka, if you're out there, usap naman tayo. Bring some chocolates too, please.
Some questions to ask:
a. With all that chocolate, how come you don't get fat?
b. Paradise, simply look around and view it--please expound.
c. Change the world, there is nothing to it?--again, please expound.
Yeah, yeah I know there are tons of reaction paper answers out there. But really Mr. Wonka, you make it sound so...real. Like you meant every word and that you know what you're talking about. Well, after all, you do have a chocolate factory. You've done your share of world-changing. So sans the chocolate factory, what else/ how'd you do it?
I'm hungry. Goodnight.
thanks,
cey
====
Willy Wonka:
[Spoken]
Hold your breath
Make a wish
Count to three
[Sung]
Come with me
And you'll be
In a world of
Pure imagination
Take a look
And you'll see
Into your imagination
We'll begin
With a spin
Traveling in
The world of my creation
What we'll see
Will defy
Explanation
If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to, do it
Wanta change the world?
There's nothing
To it
There is no
Life I know
To compare with
Pure imagination
Living there
You'll be free
If you truly wish to be
If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to, do it
Wanta change the world?
There's nothing
To it
There is no
Life I know
To compare with
Pure imagination
Living there
You'll be free
If you truly
Wish to be
I know some people hate it when bloggers just post song lyrics and that's it. But, heck, it's a nice song, and the lyrics are worth, if not blogging about, at the very least glossing over.
Must've been so easy for a man who lived in a chocolate factory to say such sweet words. When I get married, I'd like this to be the wedding march. Not to say that true love and all those supposedly nice things about wedded life is of pure imagination, but I guess it's...a nice reminder. That when things could get rough, you could always rely on pure imagination to make things better; or hopefully, have enough memories to back up the imagined thoughts to spin you back to the good life.
It's too late in the day to be talking about marriage.
It's not even my intention to be writing about it.
I. I. I don't know. I just wish Willy Wonka's a real person and that I could talk to him. Ask for some formula on how to liven up and summon what he calls pure imagination. Lately, lately mine's been caged. Not exactly, more like...uncooperative.
So Mr. Wonka, if you're out there, usap naman tayo. Bring some chocolates too, please.
Some questions to ask:
a. With all that chocolate, how come you don't get fat?
b. Paradise, simply look around and view it--please expound.
c. Change the world, there is nothing to it?--again, please expound.
Yeah, yeah I know there are tons of reaction paper answers out there. But really Mr. Wonka, you make it sound so...real. Like you meant every word and that you know what you're talking about. Well, after all, you do have a chocolate factory. You've done your share of world-changing. So sans the chocolate factory, what else/ how'd you do it?
I'm hungry. Goodnight.
thanks,
cey
====
Willy Wonka:
[Spoken]
Hold your breath
Make a wish
Count to three
[Sung]
Come with me
And you'll be
In a world of
Pure imagination
Take a look
And you'll see
Into your imagination
We'll begin
With a spin
Traveling in
The world of my creation
What we'll see
Will defy
Explanation
If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to, do it
Wanta change the world?
There's nothing
To it
There is no
Life I know
To compare with
Pure imagination
Living there
You'll be free
If you truly wish to be
If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to, do it
Wanta change the world?
There's nothing
To it
There is no
Life I know
To compare with
Pure imagination
Living there
You'll be free
If you truly
Wish to be
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Risotto rocks.
Tonight I had a date with myself.
After a long week (not exactly hard, the other weeks were relatively harder, but this one felt long probably because of the residual tiredness), I treated myself to risotto. Kuripot akong tao, pero ang pagkain…ang tanging bisyo ko. Sigh. I guess it’s something at par with travel. You don’t exactly end up with something tangible (hopefully, nothing around the belly area) but you experience something almost…for lack of a non-baduy term…magical. Something which fortunately or unfortunately you alone can truly enjoy in the fullest sense. It’s yours to cherish and reminisce over for only you care how many times.
And as I sat there, we talked. (ok, that sounded weird) in a less weird sense, I had a moment of introspection. And the first question that popped up was: What’s important for you? Well, that was the second question. The fist question was: Ok ka lang?
Truth is, I’m fine. Seriously. But I guess I can’t help but sometimes feel frustrated with how I’m faring. Sometimes I can’t help but think if I’m doing things right. If I’m doing them well enough. Am I in the right place? Is this the best I could give?
No, no, I’m not in the “should-I-shift-to-a-different-industry” mode. Neither am I in a ‘is it time to leave LB’ mode. I’m just in the ‘let’s assess how you’re doing’ mode. I’ve always been a grade conscious kid. And probably one of the greatest reasons I’m thankful for no longer being in school is the absence of report cards or class cards. But the thing is, it’s not something you just shake off. Apparently, the report cards are still there, but now I give myself the grade. 1 being the highest in the happiness chart.
As I sipped my cup of hot water. (yes, I’m such a lola) and stared at Venice painted on the wall before me, the question kept ringing in my head, “So what’s important to you?” I guess it’s because it’s undoubtedly connected to the more important question: What makes you happy?
But after a while, I no longer cared to enumerate the things that were supposed to make me happy. Those stuff that were supposed to define me. I just sat there eating my risotto, letting the flavors blend in my tongue; enjoying the texture of the grains, taking-in as much wonder in a spoonful as I possibly could, as I imagined the waters of the Grand Canal stir to life. And right then I knew I was happy.
I got the bill. Said thank you to the waiter, and rushed off to meet Robby and RJ at Pancake House. (and no, I no longer had dessert ☺)
After a long week (not exactly hard, the other weeks were relatively harder, but this one felt long probably because of the residual tiredness), I treated myself to risotto. Kuripot akong tao, pero ang pagkain…ang tanging bisyo ko. Sigh. I guess it’s something at par with travel. You don’t exactly end up with something tangible (hopefully, nothing around the belly area) but you experience something almost…for lack of a non-baduy term…magical. Something which fortunately or unfortunately you alone can truly enjoy in the fullest sense. It’s yours to cherish and reminisce over for only you care how many times.
And as I sat there, we talked. (ok, that sounded weird) in a less weird sense, I had a moment of introspection. And the first question that popped up was: What’s important for you? Well, that was the second question. The fist question was: Ok ka lang?
Truth is, I’m fine. Seriously. But I guess I can’t help but sometimes feel frustrated with how I’m faring. Sometimes I can’t help but think if I’m doing things right. If I’m doing them well enough. Am I in the right place? Is this the best I could give?
No, no, I’m not in the “should-I-shift-to-a-different-industry” mode. Neither am I in a ‘is it time to leave LB’ mode. I’m just in the ‘let’s assess how you’re doing’ mode. I’ve always been a grade conscious kid. And probably one of the greatest reasons I’m thankful for no longer being in school is the absence of report cards or class cards. But the thing is, it’s not something you just shake off. Apparently, the report cards are still there, but now I give myself the grade. 1 being the highest in the happiness chart.
As I sipped my cup of hot water. (yes, I’m such a lola) and stared at Venice painted on the wall before me, the question kept ringing in my head, “So what’s important to you?” I guess it’s because it’s undoubtedly connected to the more important question: What makes you happy?
But after a while, I no longer cared to enumerate the things that were supposed to make me happy. Those stuff that were supposed to define me. I just sat there eating my risotto, letting the flavors blend in my tongue; enjoying the texture of the grains, taking-in as much wonder in a spoonful as I possibly could, as I imagined the waters of the Grand Canal stir to life. And right then I knew I was happy.
I got the bill. Said thank you to the waiter, and rushed off to meet Robby and RJ at Pancake House. (and no, I no longer had dessert ☺)
Friday, December 07, 2007
Awake to Dream
Yipee :)
-----
YOUNG BLOOD
Awake to dream
By Cey Enriquez
Inquirer
Last updated 11:46pm (Mla time) 12/05/2007
At age 5, I already knew what i wanted. And I worked hard -- sometimes, even behind my parents’ backs -- to get to the goal, which at that time was to join the “Little Ms Philippines” contest on the television program “Eat Bulaga.” I nagged my mom to please, please, let me join. And every year, the default answer was, “Next year, ‘sasali ka’ [you will join it].” That was until I turned 8, and became over-aged.
So I nagged her to let me join the “Lunch Date” version instead, because their cut-off age was 8, and I could still qualify. That’s when she finally told me she didn’t really like the idea of me joining the contest. It broke my heart.
But I wasn’t a kid who just gave up. I wanted to be in a pageant, so I had to be in a pageant. In fact, I have been in more than one. There were times when my mom would suddenly find out that I had already signed up for a neighborhood contest. With the organizers already knocking at our door to confirm my participation, how could she resist? I was never “Little Ms Philippines,” but I have been “Little Ms San Roque,” “Little Ms Barangay Barangka Itaas” -- and almost “Little Ms Sambahayan.”
A part of me says I ought to be embarrassed about all this. After all, these aren’t exactly the things you write on your resumé. But if I were to live out those days again, I don’t think I’d change anything. Come to think of it, I’m not embarrassed by the younger me. Instead, I envy her because she knew what she wanted. She went after her dream, and savored every moment of it.
Until now I can still remember how excited I felt when I was put on a tricycle to parade around the streets, waving at the neighbors as I rode on my makeshift limo. For the talent portion, I donned my Hawaiian skirt and danced to the tune of “Pearly Shells”/ “Tiny Bubbles.” You should’ve seen the way I smiled as I had my picture taken with Romnick and Harlene, or when I saw Jestoni Alarcon and his curly bangs, and, of course, when I was finally crowned as I stood beside “Little Mr. San Roque,” who looked exactly like Randy Santiago’s mini-me (yup, complete with the spiky hair and mole!). As grand prize for one of those pageants, I got P300. No educational plan, no roundtrip ticket to some nice country, no showbiz contract, just that sweet P300. But I didn’t really care about the prize. I was happy just to be there.
It was never about the prize. Well, that may not be entirely true. Of course, I never joined any of those contests without wanting to win, but it was never just about the prize. It was about being there, doing what I wanted to do and knowing that I was living out a dream.
As a child, I understood better what others said about life being a journey to be enjoyed. Now, I find myself trying to re-learn to enjoy the ride, because lately, it seems, the views have started to be the same. Living has become a habit. Like when you’re traveling down the North Luzon Expressway and after you see the first 5-km stretch, you’ve pretty much seen it all. It becomes all about focusing on the clutch, the gas and the occasional braking. Nothing much to enjoy there.
It’s all about getting to the destination, but where it is exactly, I pretty much can’t tell. I may have the broad strokes of a dream -- of making my parents happy, having a great career, having my own house, starting a family with Regi, providing well for our future kids. Generic dreams. Dreams that people my age ought to have. They’re not bad dreams at all. But what I’m missing is something like my 5-year-old “Little Ms Philippines” dream -- funky, exciting, to some extent even defining.
Sadly, I’ve come to realize that I have grown old. I’ve put down the party hat and put on the cynical one. I’ve forgotten how it was like to want something really, really badly. Of not caring about what’s possible and what’s not. Of believing that I can make things happen. Of being free to want and dream of things outside of the usual.
A friend told me that maybe it’s because I already got the things I’ve always wanted. Maybe it’s time to finally be content. But we seem to have been built with this nagging voice inside us, telling us that we ought to be doing more, dreaming of bigger things. I’m not necessarily talking about winning an adult pageant (at this point, that would qualify more as a delusion than a dream), or making more money (which isn’t such a bad dream, because dreams after all, don’t come free), but something along the lines of well, say, making a difference.
If that sounds so heavy and serious, I still can’t imagine myself dying at this age and being greeted at heaven’s gate (hopefully, heaven’s gate!) with the question: “So, Cey, what have you done with your life?” What would I do then, rattle off my resumé? I don’t think God needs a copywriter right now. Would it be enough to say, “Well, I think I have been a good daughter … I think.” Or “I’ve done my best to be a good Filipino. I voted. Look at my finger!” It’s definitely nothing like, “I closed the gaping hole of the ozone layer.” Or “I found an answer to Filipino poverty.” Or “I found a cure for cancer!”
I believe that we’ve all been put in this world with a purpose to fulfill. And each of us have been given gifts as tools -- not merely to survive, but to thrive and to make a difference in each others’ lives. But at 26, I’m not sure I’ve served my purpose well enough.
Bo Sanchez wrote, quoting John Gray, “What you can feel, you can heal.” And thankfully, by writing this, I have come to face the source of my frustrations. Through the years, I have found it easier to just go with the flow of things and wait for whatever life would throw my way. I have spent much of my waking hours merely existing as best as I could that I have forgotten to make time to dream big. There may always be reasons to doubt, but I guess the wonderful thing about dreams is that you can go as far as your thoughts can reach -- beyond the doubts and impossibilities -- with nobody stopping you but yourself.
Now I take it back: I don’t think I’ve grown old, I’ve merely slacked off. Now it’s time for the “Little Ms Philippines” wannabe to get the dream machine back on track. After all, what good would these waking hours be, if they’re not spent living out a big dream?
Cey Enriquez, 26, works in an advertising agency.
Copyright 2007 Inquirer. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.
-----
YOUNG BLOOD
Awake to dream
By Cey Enriquez
Inquirer
Last updated 11:46pm (Mla time) 12/05/2007
At age 5, I already knew what i wanted. And I worked hard -- sometimes, even behind my parents’ backs -- to get to the goal, which at that time was to join the “Little Ms Philippines” contest on the television program “Eat Bulaga.” I nagged my mom to please, please, let me join. And every year, the default answer was, “Next year, ‘sasali ka’ [you will join it].” That was until I turned 8, and became over-aged.
So I nagged her to let me join the “Lunch Date” version instead, because their cut-off age was 8, and I could still qualify. That’s when she finally told me she didn’t really like the idea of me joining the contest. It broke my heart.
But I wasn’t a kid who just gave up. I wanted to be in a pageant, so I had to be in a pageant. In fact, I have been in more than one. There were times when my mom would suddenly find out that I had already signed up for a neighborhood contest. With the organizers already knocking at our door to confirm my participation, how could she resist? I was never “Little Ms Philippines,” but I have been “Little Ms San Roque,” “Little Ms Barangay Barangka Itaas” -- and almost “Little Ms Sambahayan.”
A part of me says I ought to be embarrassed about all this. After all, these aren’t exactly the things you write on your resumé. But if I were to live out those days again, I don’t think I’d change anything. Come to think of it, I’m not embarrassed by the younger me. Instead, I envy her because she knew what she wanted. She went after her dream, and savored every moment of it.
Until now I can still remember how excited I felt when I was put on a tricycle to parade around the streets, waving at the neighbors as I rode on my makeshift limo. For the talent portion, I donned my Hawaiian skirt and danced to the tune of “Pearly Shells”/ “Tiny Bubbles.” You should’ve seen the way I smiled as I had my picture taken with Romnick and Harlene, or when I saw Jestoni Alarcon and his curly bangs, and, of course, when I was finally crowned as I stood beside “Little Mr. San Roque,” who looked exactly like Randy Santiago’s mini-me (yup, complete with the spiky hair and mole!). As grand prize for one of those pageants, I got P300. No educational plan, no roundtrip ticket to some nice country, no showbiz contract, just that sweet P300. But I didn’t really care about the prize. I was happy just to be there.
It was never about the prize. Well, that may not be entirely true. Of course, I never joined any of those contests without wanting to win, but it was never just about the prize. It was about being there, doing what I wanted to do and knowing that I was living out a dream.
As a child, I understood better what others said about life being a journey to be enjoyed. Now, I find myself trying to re-learn to enjoy the ride, because lately, it seems, the views have started to be the same. Living has become a habit. Like when you’re traveling down the North Luzon Expressway and after you see the first 5-km stretch, you’ve pretty much seen it all. It becomes all about focusing on the clutch, the gas and the occasional braking. Nothing much to enjoy there.
It’s all about getting to the destination, but where it is exactly, I pretty much can’t tell. I may have the broad strokes of a dream -- of making my parents happy, having a great career, having my own house, starting a family with Regi, providing well for our future kids. Generic dreams. Dreams that people my age ought to have. They’re not bad dreams at all. But what I’m missing is something like my 5-year-old “Little Ms Philippines” dream -- funky, exciting, to some extent even defining.
Sadly, I’ve come to realize that I have grown old. I’ve put down the party hat and put on the cynical one. I’ve forgotten how it was like to want something really, really badly. Of not caring about what’s possible and what’s not. Of believing that I can make things happen. Of being free to want and dream of things outside of the usual.
A friend told me that maybe it’s because I already got the things I’ve always wanted. Maybe it’s time to finally be content. But we seem to have been built with this nagging voice inside us, telling us that we ought to be doing more, dreaming of bigger things. I’m not necessarily talking about winning an adult pageant (at this point, that would qualify more as a delusion than a dream), or making more money (which isn’t such a bad dream, because dreams after all, don’t come free), but something along the lines of well, say, making a difference.
If that sounds so heavy and serious, I still can’t imagine myself dying at this age and being greeted at heaven’s gate (hopefully, heaven’s gate!) with the question: “So, Cey, what have you done with your life?” What would I do then, rattle off my resumé? I don’t think God needs a copywriter right now. Would it be enough to say, “Well, I think I have been a good daughter … I think.” Or “I’ve done my best to be a good Filipino. I voted. Look at my finger!” It’s definitely nothing like, “I closed the gaping hole of the ozone layer.” Or “I found an answer to Filipino poverty.” Or “I found a cure for cancer!”
I believe that we’ve all been put in this world with a purpose to fulfill. And each of us have been given gifts as tools -- not merely to survive, but to thrive and to make a difference in each others’ lives. But at 26, I’m not sure I’ve served my purpose well enough.
Bo Sanchez wrote, quoting John Gray, “What you can feel, you can heal.” And thankfully, by writing this, I have come to face the source of my frustrations. Through the years, I have found it easier to just go with the flow of things and wait for whatever life would throw my way. I have spent much of my waking hours merely existing as best as I could that I have forgotten to make time to dream big. There may always be reasons to doubt, but I guess the wonderful thing about dreams is that you can go as far as your thoughts can reach -- beyond the doubts and impossibilities -- with nobody stopping you but yourself.
Now I take it back: I don’t think I’ve grown old, I’ve merely slacked off. Now it’s time for the “Little Ms Philippines” wannabe to get the dream machine back on track. After all, what good would these waking hours be, if they’re not spent living out a big dream?
Cey Enriquez, 26, works in an advertising agency.
Copyright 2007 Inquirer. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Buying Joy
Probably if somebody were to advertise himself to be selling happiness, he'd be rich by now. After all, what's all these for really? Why do we even get out of bed, get out of our homes, go to work, deal with a whole lot of things we wouldn't even have to come to face with if we chose not to get out of bed in the first place.
Well, that's not entirely true. Because staying in bed would mean having to forego earning some moolah. And having no money entails having to face a whole lot of different issues.
So is it all about earning money then? Of course not. It's about finding joy.
Through money?
Not exactly, but partially. A few chunks more than the other components probably.
So, you get out of bed, do something else so you'd earn some money which would hopefully bring you closer to your joyous goals. Why can't it be as simple as getting out of bed and simply being happy? Some people say that happiness is a state of mind. Readers of the book 'The Secret' believe that 'inner happiness is the fuel of success' But can you have inner happiness without having an external stimuli--which you, of course would have to work for to have? Things that make you happy don't always come falling from the skies or growing from trees. But in some cases they probably do. But if you want more than occasional occurences of joy it's going to take some work. Not exactly having to look for a job, but probably more like finding your purpose. And when you finally find your reason for being, you make sure you're good at it. Then you'll be happy.
Then.
And until then, you go on living your days believing that you can make the most out of it. That you can touch as many lives even in the most mundane ways. That you don't waste any of your ticking moments to just wander the earth unaware of why you're even there in the first place. That you are looking for a purpose and that you will find it. Knowing that there is nobody out there who's selling happiness packed in a bottle; ready for consumption any which time you choose. Because happiness isn't for sale. It's free. If you just choose to believe you're entitled to it.
Well, that's not entirely true. Because staying in bed would mean having to forego earning some moolah. And having no money entails having to face a whole lot of different issues.
So is it all about earning money then? Of course not. It's about finding joy.
Through money?
Not exactly, but partially. A few chunks more than the other components probably.
So, you get out of bed, do something else so you'd earn some money which would hopefully bring you closer to your joyous goals. Why can't it be as simple as getting out of bed and simply being happy? Some people say that happiness is a state of mind. Readers of the book 'The Secret' believe that 'inner happiness is the fuel of success' But can you have inner happiness without having an external stimuli--which you, of course would have to work for to have? Things that make you happy don't always come falling from the skies or growing from trees. But in some cases they probably do. But if you want more than occasional occurences of joy it's going to take some work. Not exactly having to look for a job, but probably more like finding your purpose. And when you finally find your reason for being, you make sure you're good at it. Then you'll be happy.
Then.
And until then, you go on living your days believing that you can make the most out of it. That you can touch as many lives even in the most mundane ways. That you don't waste any of your ticking moments to just wander the earth unaware of why you're even there in the first place. That you are looking for a purpose and that you will find it. Knowing that there is nobody out there who's selling happiness packed in a bottle; ready for consumption any which time you choose. Because happiness isn't for sale. It's free. If you just choose to believe you're entitled to it.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Surreal Sunday
I never even saw the Monty Python movie this song was from. Just viewed the clip on YouTube a few months back when I was looking for a song for an ad we were doing...Sang by a bunch of guys hanging on their crosses, under the scorching heat of the sun. They seemed to have no reason to be happy; or to be singing, but still they sang, and they whistled along:
Always Look on the Bright Side of Life (from Monty Python)
Listen: LoFi | Download | Send-Card | Chords
From: A Faire To Remember
words and music by Eric Idle
Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle
Don't grumble, give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best...
And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...
If life seems jolly rotten
There's something you've forgotten
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing.
When you're feeling in the dumps
Don't be silly chumps
Just purse your lips and whistle - that's the thing.
And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...
For life is quite absurd
And death's the final word
You must always face the curtain with a bow.
Forget about your sin - give the audience a grin
Enjoy it - it's your last chance anyhow.
So always look on the bright side of death
Just before you draw your terminal breath
Life's a piece of shit
When you look at it
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true.
You'll see it's all a show
Keep 'em laughing as you go
Just remember that the last laugh is on you.
And always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the right side of life...
(Come on guys, cheer up!)
Always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the bright side of life...
(Worse things happen at sea, you know.)
Always look on the bright side of life...
(I mean - what have you got to lose?)
(You know, you come from nothing - you're going back to nothing.
What have you lost? Nothing!)
Always look on the bright side of life...
There is always a bright side. Sometimes, I guess we just don't get to see it. Because it's easier sung than done. But silly as it may sound, I can't help but wish that someone got to sing this song for a friend of mine. Whom I met again last night. In a closed casket. Amidst all the people who loved her and who thought that it wouldn't come to this.
You may not know her, but please say a prayer for her.
Always Look on the Bright Side of Life (from Monty Python)
Listen: LoFi | Download | Send-Card | Chords
From: A Faire To Remember
words and music by Eric Idle
Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle
Don't grumble, give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best...
And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...
If life seems jolly rotten
There's something you've forgotten
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing.
When you're feeling in the dumps
Don't be silly chumps
Just purse your lips and whistle - that's the thing.
And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...
For life is quite absurd
And death's the final word
You must always face the curtain with a bow.
Forget about your sin - give the audience a grin
Enjoy it - it's your last chance anyhow.
So always look on the bright side of death
Just before you draw your terminal breath
Life's a piece of shit
When you look at it
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true.
You'll see it's all a show
Keep 'em laughing as you go
Just remember that the last laugh is on you.
And always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the right side of life...
(Come on guys, cheer up!)
Always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the bright side of life...
(Worse things happen at sea, you know.)
Always look on the bright side of life...
(I mean - what have you got to lose?)
(You know, you come from nothing - you're going back to nothing.
What have you lost? Nothing!)
Always look on the bright side of life...
There is always a bright side. Sometimes, I guess we just don't get to see it. Because it's easier sung than done. But silly as it may sound, I can't help but wish that someone got to sing this song for a friend of mine. Whom I met again last night. In a closed casket. Amidst all the people who loved her and who thought that it wouldn't come to this.
You may not know her, but please say a prayer for her.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
I will. I am.
Today, I resolve to be happy. Despite the fact that the sun has again gone hiding someplace else; despite the pain in my back, despite the things that need to be done, and issues that need to be resolved. In the same way that I had to tell myself that I will get myself from bed despite the wonderful pull of the sheets and covers, I will be happy despite the usual reasons that normally make me less than that--happy. Despite, despite, sounds so...harsh. But to be happy despite...that just feels good.
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