Image by me.

what's in your wishlist?

I thought about making a vain post about what I wish to receive this Christmas as I usually do every December, but I found this thought-provoking image floating around cyberspace:

I know don't really need a new android phone, or  that DVD player with the USB port, or a whole new wardrobe.  I don't really need to spend money on gifts, on thingamabobs and space-eaters to give to friends who may or may not be my friends after five years.  I really don't.

Dear loved ones of mine: instead of buying me something I may or may not like, please give something to someone who really needs it.

If you truly believe that it's better to give than to receive, go extreme this Holiday season.  Instead of spending on stuff that people will probably forget about after January, how about giving to people who are really in need?

You don't have to go far to show kindness to the needy.  Every city has homeless people, orphans, widows.  And no matter how broke you feel, remember that there will always be someone poorer than you - your house helper, the manong vendor, the security guard at your office building.  Go beyond relief goods give them brand new, high-quality food and items you would be glad to receive yourself. Why not, right?
.

ang buko (bow)

Today's thoughtful thought is inspired by a photo I took in 2006.

To be of greater use, you will have to be broken. 

The Others may not understand you, and you would cease to appear beautiful to them, but you will have fulfilled your destiny. ;)

And speaking of destiny - ang ibang buko ginagawang buko juice, o cocunut oil; ang iba ginagawang kopra, kendi o pangsahog sa fruit salad.  Ang iba naman nagiging bunot.  Kung anuman, destiny pa rin 'yon.

good advice ^_^

girls talk: favorite word

Glad to be back at Girls Talk after a long absence from the blogosphere!

Today is all about our favorite words. I had a bit of difficulty choosing because I have quite a few. Still I think today's topic is such a pleasant coincidence, because I recently met a word that quickly became my new favorite:

frisson
a brief moment of emotional excitement; shudder, thrill
Definition from Merriam-Webster.com

Ain't it cute? ^_^ I mean it sounds cute out loud, and it means something cute. I stumbled upon it while making my own crossword puzzle; I needed something that had an R, an I and double S, I asked Google and it gave me this. I fell in love with it and decided it will feature in my next poem.

I can't end this entry without mentioning my all-time favorite word: butterscotch! =D

It's one of those words that are delicious to pronounce. And it means a yummy thing too! Check out my easy butterscotch syrup recipe here.


Like words? Read about the other Girls' Talkers choices at Beauty Queen Gene. Thursdays in the month of August are reserved for discussing words, words words! ^_^

have a disaster preparedness kit

Consecutive disasters have a way of sobering us up. Just within the span of a few weeks there has been quakes in New Zealand and Japan - the latter followed by a monster tsunami - and yesterday there was a magnitude 5 right here in the Philippines.

Considering we're in the Pacific Ring of Fire, it isn't unlikely that we'd experience another one. I really, really hope it isn't anything big, but that really isn't something anyone can control. If it happens, it happens, and it would be wise to be prepared. I mean, not just for a quake or a tsunami, but for any calamity - whether it be a fire, a political upheaval or another massive flood like the one in Metro Manila in '09.


Useful Tip # 1: Be Informed

Know the possible events that can occur in your area. Get to know if your place is fire-prone, accident-prone, flood-prone and so on, then make a plan that applies. Research about the fault line around your hometown and see if your house is sitting just along it.

Here in Manila, I suppose the thing we most often worry about are typhoons and floods, and recently we were reminded of the Marikina Fault Line. We at least don't need to concern ourselves with volcanoes and hurricanes, and we're relatively safe from terrorist takeovers.

It may also be beneficial to know what's going on in neighboring countries - e.g., knowing there have been massive earthquakes in the Ring of Fire recently, we could start getting ready for another one, even perhaps expect some volcanic activity nearby. If you happen to be an OFW in the Middle East, it would be good to be constantly updated about the political climate.


Useful Tip # 2: Make a Plan

Whether at home or at the workplace, know where the exits are and consider the quickest way/s to evacuate. Consider where you can head for shelter, acquire supplies and so on; arrange where you can meet your loved ones in case you get separated.

Have a fire extinguisher, a first-aid kit and emergency lamps; put them in easily accessible places. Have a list of emergency numbers by your phone

Consider the SOPs - What do you do during a quake? Is it better to run outside, or stay indoors under a stable piece of furniture? What do you do during a fire? When are flood levels considered unsafe? What do you take with you? What do you do with the children, the pets and so on?

Share the plan with everyone in your household, including the helpers and the children. It may be good to assign roles, such as, Wifey will be in charge of the children and emergency supplies, Hubby will take care of grabbing the important documents, Manang will call for help, etc.


Useful Tip # 3: Make a Pre-Packed Disaster Preparedness / Easy Evacuation Kit

Have a duffel bag or travel bag exclusively for this purpose. It should be pre-packed and stowed where it can easily be grabbed at the instance of an emergency. Keep it stocked regularly and update the items that may expire. You might also want to have an extra kit for your workplace, car or school locker.

What to put inside:

• Drinking water
• Canned / dried food
• Utility knife or pocket knife (with a can opener for the food)
  
• Flashlight and extra batteries
• First aid kit and first aid book
• Medicine, including prescriptions taken by your family members [I recently read news about a diabetic child in Japan who survived the calamities but is now suffering in an evacuation center because he didn't have his insulin. :( ]
  
• Full change of clothes for each person - include undies, a jacket and long pants
• Blanket or towel
  
• Toiletries and hygiene supplies
• Candles and matches - place in a waterproof container
• Plastic plates and utensils
• Cash
• Whistle - can be used to call for help in case you are trapped
  
  

You might also want to include:

• Sleeping bag
• Cell phone charger
• Spare eyeglasses
  
• Radio
• Slippers
• Plastic bags
• Important documents
• Fire extinguisher
  
• If you have babies or toddlers - supplies such as diapers, formula, etc.
  
• If you have pets - extra water, pet food, old newspaper
• Reading material
• Paper and writing instruments
  
  

Useful Tip # 4: Have Relief Goods on Standby

If you happen to be one of the lucky survivors, don't forget the people who aren't so fortunate.
If you haven't been hit so hard by disaster as to lose your home, think about those who were - send aid.


Useful Tip #5: Pray

The thing about disasters is that they aren't in our control - we're each just a small part of a way bigger world, which in turn is just a speck in an even vaster universe. It's hopeful and energizing to know you can trust in a God that is bigger than the universe.

Prayer won't necessarily prevent bad things from happening, but it will prepare your heart for whatever lies ahead.

Be safe, everyone!

simplifying the upcoming stressful season

So. The awareness of Christmas is just floating over our heads like a persistent follow-spotlight. At this time we'd usually be harassed over getting gifts, maybe even penciling out our own wishlists, or stretching whatever budget we have just to be in the spirit of the season.

Gifts. Lists. Wrapping. Make sure not to forget anyone.
Lights. Trees. Tinsel. Trimming.
Recipes. Groceries.
Parties. Invites.
Events. Events to go to, events to turn down.
People to make nice with.
Clutter. Diets.

I think it was two years ago that the Hubby and I have decided not to be slaves to tradition. Oh, we're not going in the Ebenezer Scrooge direction -- we just agreed it would be wise not to blow several thousand bucks buying gifts for insignificant people and decking the house with kitschy decor.

Instead of scrambling for cheap stuff for a long list of friends colleagues neighbors volunteers donors sponsors pastors disciples helpers group-members workers parents-of-workers people-to-thank people-to-impress and so on, we'll simply be buying good-quality gifts for immediate family. If we have enough, the Hubby and I might even treat ourselves to a vacation. The Holidays would be less stressful and more meaningful that way.

The first time we did this, I felt a kind of bite on my pride whenever I had to greet Christmas-wishers who might've expected gifts (It probably will still sting a bit this year, but I think I've more or less gotten used to it). But the money saved and the freedom from stress is absolutely rewarding.

We could feel guilty for not handing out tangible, giftwrapped tokens to (hopefully) convey our thoughtfulness at a season of giving.
We could be afraid of being thought of as Scroogy or stingy.
We could spread ourselves too thin over people we "should" please or events we "should" attend.
Or we could choose to simplify our lives at this already complicated season - just stick to what really matters instead of just going along with social convention.

Personally I'd rather not give in to the overspending, people-pleasing, materialism and fatigue. If Christmas is supposed to be about love, joy, sharing, giving, and spiritually enlightening things, it would be nice not to contaminate it with worldly values.

a very good reason to think happy thawts

Here's something memorable from Roald Dahl's well-loved children's book, The Twits.

i am his north star ^_^

Time-lapse photo of the North Star, nicked from ScienceBlogs.

The Hubby told me that I am his North Star. ^_^ And that is definitely a happy thought.

The North Star for centuries now has been Polaris in the constellation Ursa Minor. It's the one at the tip of the handle of the Little Dipper. It is the only star in the sky that stays in a (relative) constant position since it is fixed directly on top of the Earth's North Pole (there is a South Star too, but it is too faint so it is hardly considered). The North Star since time immemorial has been used by mariners and explorers as a reference point to aid them in their journeys.

To be told by the Hubby that i am his North Star - particularly after a trying time, and especially from a guy who isn't very poetic - is not just a sweet thing; it's an honor to know that in his life, I am his constant, his reference point. And of course, it tickles me extra because I'm a geek over stars and deep space objects. ^_^

sky

I look out and observe that the sky is a flat, pale, dirty blue. As I was about to remark that "The sky is a flat, pale dirty blue," I consider that there really is no sky. What we call "sky" is an imaginary field superimposed on the atmosphere as viewed from the earth's surface . It's an illusionary perception of color and form effected by reflected and refracted light, defined differently by observers from their respective perspectives.

So I might as well say "The sky is a vibrant pink with flaming orange stripes," or "The sky is scumbled with a neon lightshow," or "The sky is the blue-black of the deep sea, accentuated with crushed pearlescent shell," -- because I'm sure it is true, as viewed from some other latitude or longitude. It's still much more romantic than saying"The sky is a flat, pale, dirty blue," though that is what I perceive right now.

level up

As of last Saturday, our youth pastoring days are officially over. We turned it all over to our friend and ministry partner J, who gladly and readily accepted.

I'd have to admit that it's rather a sad thing to have to end that chapter, but I'd also have to admit that in the mix of sentiments, excitement is prominent. I'm not all "praise the Lord" in denial about the sadness that I feel, but on top of the sadness is a rich optimism that we're on our way to something bigger and better. I think of it as a level up, flipping to a new exciting chapter of our lives that brings us closer to the climax.

And of course it's not really goodbye - we are still after all in the same church, and our relationships with the kids will be forever, except no longer as youth pastors. We will always be a part of their lives and they ours. In a way it is also a level up for them; as i explained it to them two weeks ago, now that they will be under J's leadership, and now that they are grown-up and well-trained, they are no longer spiritually-starved kids who come to church to be fed but co-workers with J to feed the younger, hungry kids.

As for the Hubby and I - well, as of this point anything is a possibility. We still have no idea what to do next, so we'll be taking time the next two months to pray and think about it. We can't see ourselves anywhere in the new structure of the church - yet - but that isn't such a bad thing because it opens up our options. We know we (both and individually) are cut out for full-time ministry, that's for sure; but that doesn't necessarily mean full-time employed in our local church, and it doesn't necessarily mean now, after 5 years of youth ministry. I've been feeling like a big fish in a small pond already, and though it scares me to move to a bigger pond - maybe even the sea - I'm quite excited.

just visiting

The Hubby and i went visiting another church last night. We were invited by some people to come listen to a guest preacher and we decided it was worth going to (we invited some church kids to come along as well but they ended up not coming - but anyway ...)

There wasn't anything particularly special about the meeting - I mean, nothing out of the ordinary by Pentecostal standards - but it was great that I was there. More on that later.

In a more general sense, I personally like attending services of other churches - whether it be a special meeting or the usual Sunday service. Of course that goes with the foundational MUST of being rooted and committed to my own local church. Here's what I like about it:

1. I get to appreciate more the diversity in the body of Christ. There are various ways to worship and it's nice to see - and even participate in - how other people do it. Aside from that, I might get ideas for little bits that we can try at our home church, hee hee.
   
   
2. Sometimes I appreciate my own church more - for all its flaws and flubs - when I see that other churches are flawed ad flubbed too. :p
   
   
3. Now this is real important to me: It's a chance for me to receive ministry. When I visit another congregation, I'm just an attendee there; not a worker or leader or anything. I can get their workers to pray for me. At our home church, the Hubby and i are at the administering end, hardly ever at the receiving end, and we're at this constant "watch" mode to see that things are getting done (besides, due to our virtual position, most people at home are too intimidated to minister to us). When attending another church, we can temporarily lay aside the serve others first guideline; in this instance, we are the others. We give them the chance to minister to us.
   
   
4. I like it when a minister who doesn't know me prays or speaks over me (provided of course that he / she is actually experienced and knows what he / she is doing). Not that I don't appreciate the people at home who do know me, because I really do - it's just that sometimes i think they know too much about me so they might just say what they think I need / want to hear. Some of the best, most powerful, spot-on prophecies I've received are from people who don't know me personally; I know their messages were from God because they hit the mark even if there was no human way possible for them to know those things. There's an added zing about it when a message comes from someone unfamiliar.
   
   
5. It just plain breaks monotony. In today's reliably-structured, modern religious practice in danger of becoming the same old same old, I so welcome variety (with certain restrictions of course, but that's not the point I'm trying to make here).
   

So anyway, at this meeting, the Hubby and i were at the receiving end, right? We didn't have to worry about making sure people were lining up properly at the altar, we weren't concerned about asking for words for people, we didn't have to look around to make sure our sheep were eating their greens and so on. It felt so darned good to just think about ourselves at a meeting like this. It's been a while since I personally received some really meaningful prophetic ministry, and at an opportune time too; it gives a whole new dimension to the word refreshing. I count this as the happy thawt of the day and the big blessing of the week.

the cilantro sprigs that made me smile

I needed some cilantro the other day so I bought me some from the grocery's chilled section. It was just a bunch of short sprigs, the kind that still looked fresh-picked because of the bit of soil that clung to whatever was left of the roots.

When I was about to chop up the cilantro, my dad asked for the root parts. He wanted to plant them, and see if they'd live. I didn't think they would, considering that only some root fragments were left, which have probably been refrigerated for hours if not days. But he went ahead and stuck them in some soil. He reasoned that he just wanted to see what if - if they died, there's no loss because we would have been throwing the roots away anyway. If they lived, that'd mean new cilantro.

To our surprise the leftover bits of cilantro stretched outward after they've been in the soil for less than 24 hours. They looked even greener and healthier. I'm not sure that means they'll live for good, but seeing them alive is still a good smile-maker.


Survivors, aren't they?

We actually already have an herb garden outside our dwelling - oregano, lots of basil, fennel, some grasslike thing I don't recognize that tastes like onion - but I don't think we've ever had any cilantro. I'm excited at the idea of not having to go to the grocery for cilantro anymore. I hope these guys survive and thrive.

Magic

Author Neil Gaiman says in his introduction for M IS FOR MAGIC,

M is for Magic. All the letters are, if you put them together properly. You can make magic with them, and dreams, and, I hope, even a few surprises . . .

make my life beautiful

"Don't grieve over the past for it is gone. Don't be troubled about the future for it is yet to come. Live in the present, and make it so beautiful that it may be worth remembering."

Found this quote on a random blog. I love it. Especially today that I feel kinda mopey about some things that I wanted to happen but didn't.

And as if the universe conspired to give me a confirmation, I found the following note from Ate Mench in my Facebook inbox: (text effects mine)

Isaiah 54:4 "You will forget the shame of your youth."

When Eve first opened her eyes on planet earth, she was already married. She never got to grow up. She just stepped into being a wife, then a mother. Did that happen to you? You were a parent before you has a chance to be a child, or know what it means to be innocent and grow up with your trust intact. If Eve's story is your story, the Word for you today is, "Do not fear, for you will not be ashamed; neither be disgraced...you will forget the shame of your youth."

You can't go back and make things different. You're not the same person and you're never going to be. You can't relive your first marriage or your early childhood. But there are three scriptural steps you can take to get up, get over it and move on.

1.) FORGIVE what others have done to you (Ephesians 4:32).
2.) FORGIVE YOURSELF for what you have done (Philippians 3:13).
3.) BELIEVE that God has truly forgiven you and act on it (Isaiah 43:25).

Sometimes we hold to certain things because we believe there is something there we think we still need. We cling to certain things because we fear we'll never be able to replace them. No, God has more in store for you. If you've entrusted your future to Jesus you haven't seen your best days yet. There's more ahead of you than behind you. God promises: "Beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness" (Isaiah 61:3). SO IN GOD'S STRENGTH, GET UP, GET OVER IT AND MOVE ON! Have a blessed day!

And so, I will get up, get over it and move on, and have a blessed day. :)

forgotten genius in seven short chapters

Chapter One

"You've always been a writer," an old college friend said to me when we met up for lunch now that we're working-and-earning adults. I wondered why he said that; I don't ever recall letting him read anything I wrote.

For that matter, I don't recall ever writing anything noteworthy back in college except probably class requirement things. And occasionally-angst-ridden journal entries disguised as occasionally-angst-ridden verse. Did he mean that crap? Was that a writer back there? Was I a writer?

As far as I knew, I was never a writer. At least, as far as I recall.
Perhaps he was mistaken.

Or perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps I just forgot.


Chapter Two

Some time ago, I met up with another old friend, one from around the same time period as the previously mentioned friend but from a completely different circle. He reminded me of a series of paintings I made over a decade ago. I actually forgot about the said paintings, -because I trashed most of my work from those days in a random artist fit sometime 1999 - so at first I didn't even know what he was talking about. He said something about my powerful talent searing indelible imagery on his consciousness; i.e., he thought I was such a great artist that merely seeing those paintings - he said I used no words then, and didn't have to - was an unforgettale experience.

But as far as I knew, I was never a painter; I merely sat in the company of painter friends. At least, as far as I recall.

Funny, I don't even remember painting anything, much less showing him any of my stuff. For that matter, I don't even remember that he and I were that close. I was quite in disbelief until he went on to reminisce details about my family, my room, our old house - including my graffitti and the random footprints on the wall - and he was spot on. As he described the paintings to me again, I recollected a very vague memory of them. I was pretty sure I did make the said paintings; the subject he mentioned had some meaning to me at those times, and he couldn't have been making that up. Apparently he remembered something I didn't - supposing that my so-called talent was as powerful and indelible as he said it was.


Chapter Three

I recently got caught up in this little musical theater-ish production for which I am to be the director. I've always wanted to have a go at directing a production; I got extremely pumped about it and wanted to tweak the script as well.

As far as I knew, it was my first time to write a script for a play. At least, as far as I recall.

When I submitted the first draft to the producer, she was absolutely pleased with it and exclaimed "This kid is really a genius!" with wows and suchlike, and mentioned how I exponentially added bulk to to project. I honestly was amazed at myself too actually; ideas and know-how just coruscated out of somewhere inside of me with such speed and ease. I blame it on the manic episode. I attribute it to God's anointing - which can make anyone seem like a genius by the way, and I'm sure that's partially it -but I'm pretty sure there's also something else. If I believed in reincarnation (but i don't) I would have concluded I was a playwright in a previous life.

I've written some scripts for shorts in film class, but playwrighting is a different game and I was pretty sure I haven't played it before. As far as I knew. Seeing that I've been repeatedly forgetting what I could do in the past, I kept my mind open to the possibility of some other forgotten skill.

While my conscious mind was juggling left-brain writing for Bible lessons and right-brain activity for the play (ehem, musical), I let my subconscious mind do some tapping around. My conscious mind sent questions to my subconscious, and while Conscious was distracted with the other stuff, Subconscious seemed to have kicked up some dust over old files and submitted a reply to the query. Then I began to remember.

I began to remember.


Chapter Four

Indeed, I've always been a writer.

Not just the left-brain-wired kind as people think of me today. I've been both the technical and the creative sort.

I remember that I wrote short stories as early as age six or seven - maybe even earlier, but my earliest solid memory is from six or seven. I had this pink steno notebook I filled with chicken-scratch paragraphs before I even knew the rules of formal writing. Some stories I wrote were retellings of cartoons I watched on Betamax. But a lot of of my early works (naks) just bubbled out from my active imagination. Like this many-chaptered story I wrote about this group of kids who went on a Goonies-type underground adventure.

I threw that notebook away after my uncle peeked into it chuckled at the thought of a Lemonade Sea.

But I couldn't get writing out of my system; I employed another notebook some time after. That notebook was ditched for some reason, then a new one was christened for the same purpose, which was also later given up, then replaced - and thus was the samsara (i.e., cycle of birth and rebirth) of my creative writing hobby.

I wrote songs in my head in childhood as well. I didn't know how to put them into notes so I lost most of them. When I heard a nice-sounding phrase or name, I'd give it a tune and start singing it over and over in my head until it balloons into something like a silly commercial jingle that pretends to be a pop song.

I recall writing free verse and rhyming poetry at ten. Maybe even as early as eight. I remember my seatmate Olivia (who wanted to be called Ami two years later) telling me I should join the Literary Club (or whatever it was called) because she found my litany of childhood wonderments quite impressive.


Chapter Five

And I've always been an artist.

I did use to paint. Not with large canvasses and oils that painters are known to use, but with whatever materials I got my hands on (because I was too poor and cheap to buy any real stuff) - chipboard, broken-up pieces of crayon, cheesecloth, ink, coffee, blood.

I've been drawing and writing on walls as soon as I can hold a crayon. The walls of our house were one big messy kindergarten mural scrawled with my (and my brother's) creative output: doll drawings, detailed dinosaur fights, schematics of a battleship, blueprints to a dream house, vocabulary words, sentences teacher said, portals to other dimensions. Every square inch of the wall (at least, the part we could reach), including the itty-bitty spaces between old drawings.

My mind has been hotwired for creativity from birth. In my little childhood head, words, smells and people's names had colors and definite shapes and movements as if they were tangible, animated matter. Even before going to kindergarten, II instinctively knew perspective, shading, balance and proportion without ever being taught. I knew how to make little projects with my hands, even without any training or any real art materials.


Chapter Six

And I've always been the other kind of artist.

Every little girl probably has a memory of herself standing on a table (or any similar platform) singing before an audience of awed family members. I've got one of myself in a yellow dress, age three or four or five, holding a hairbrush for a makeshift microphone.

I used to love singing. I used to sing a lot. I remember telling people that when I grew up, I'd be famous and appear on T.V. I was going to be an actress.

In second grade I saw this play in Ateneo entitled Kwentong Baboy. There were kids acting as biiks dressed in various shades of pink. I saw that the biiks were just around my age, maybe even younger, and I said this was something I could do.

It all swelled to a large proportion when I was ten. I heard about how Lea Salonga made it big in London at age eighteen. I then started joking about how I was going to be there in a few years as well.

I don't quite remember why I stopped dreaming about that.

I remembered being in a school play only twice - once when I was five, another when I was in seventh grade. School plays usually seem like jokes when you look back at them, but I kind of feel like I left part of my heart in there somewhere.

Another thing I forgot but then started to remember just now is that I was in a Trumpets workshop when i was a teenager. Playshop, I think they called it (It's funny because just recently while we were working on the script for The Dreamer, someone asked me if I was ever involved wth Trumpets; i disgustedly said i never was. I obviously forgot about that). My instructors were these not-so-identical twins and this cute-but-no-nonsense lady who kept applauding my partner and ignoring me. The workshop I think was supposed to culminate in a theater production but I never got to that part. I bailed prematurely, out of frustration.


Chapter Six

And speaking of working on scripts ...

I enjoyed reading scripts for plays as early as age ten, no matter that they weren't that easy for a kid to read. I loved envisioning things in my head - lights, music and all - and imagining how they'd play out. I remember falling in love with my brother's copy of Tricycle Kings, a play by Tony Perez (Directed by Mariano Singson ... Set Designed by Edmund Ty ... oh crap, why am i remembering so many details right now?). It made me kinda sad that I wasn't in it and even sadder that I never got to watch it.

I think I even tried writing a play. I vaguely recall typing pages with those wide indents, getting frustrated why they had to be in the middle of the page - tab, tab, tab, tab, tab, shift.

Maybe that's why I know how to write a play today with such seemingly second-natured ease, even if I think I've never done if before.


Chapter Seven

I'm pretty sure I'm hotwired for genius.

Geez, I know that sounds so arrogant. But anyhow..

I mean the creative kind, not the Einstein kind (Not really like Shakespeare either; slightly more disturbed like Byron probably). My mom said that I was talking before age one and kinda skipped the baby-talk stage. I can't quite imagine how that looked like but that's a clue right there. But I've got a lot of forgotten, frustrated genius at this time of my life.

More than a source of pride, it as well of frustration knowing that I'm that, er, gifted. I'm quite convinced that despite all this supposed potential, my current accomplishments don't quite measure up to what I think I should have accomplished.

But playing the should've could've would've game always ends in failure, so I'm not going there.

There's this milk brand that credits itself with producing child prodigies (it's a funny claim, don't you think?). According to the commercials, genius is the result of I.Q. + Good Nourishment and + Proper Parenting. Hahaha. If you know me well, you know what I think about that.

I can't quite put my finger on what caused me to forget myself in the first place. I feel like I've been a coma and I am now only just waking up and I haven't yet relearned the full use of my limbs. Maybe it's because I grew up sometime back and decided I needed to earn a living. Maybe I cleaned up and put away some of the things I shouldn't have.

Maybe I am actually finding myself for the first time. That's supposed to be a great thing.

And I find I've always been an artist. I just forgot. I'm not just smart chick who can speak good english. I'm the multitalented kind of sheila who for some reason forgot about most of the talents and left them to rot underground for a while.

I was born to be a creative genius. The kind that draws and paints, acts and sings. The kind that can write technically and creatively, or orate formally and theatrically. The kind that witres and directs and produces and designs. A deviant of many talents. Like William Blake or Tim Burton or JRR Tolkien. The potentially-world-inspiring kind.

amen to that!

Friend B and his brilliant shirt at the brilliant modern Stations of the Cross.

i love the beach

Ever since the warm month of march rolled out of the calendar, I've been obsessing about going to the beach.

Well honestly, I've been obsessing about going to the beach all year long, whether in warm weather or cool - it's just that the realization of summer heightens my urgency to go beach-ing.

The Hubby and I were fortunate enough to spend an overnight's stay at an acquaintance's private seaside sanctuary. I would have preferred for us to be alone, but this was a staff outing so we spent it with a few other church people. Anyway, it's still a blessing.

Beauty heals, I've been told.

The place was lovely. It had a mostly-white modern-zen thing going on.


The sand was even combed into gentle waves, zen-garden style.


To the infinity pool and beyond.


I love walking barefoot in the sand, right where the sea kisses the shore.


I found me some tiny shells for my own mini-zen-garden.


And I just love pink beach sunsets.


I've been wanting to sleep under the stars again - even if it meant waking up all damp with dew. It's no fun doing it in the city, because there are hardly any stars in the city sky. The sky at this beach wasn't as bright as I had hoped it would be, but it at least didn't have as many absentee stars as the city nights always do.


Orion was present; so were Canis Major, Canis Minor, Ursa Major, Leo, Virgo, Crater, Hydra, Cancer. Gemini's Castor and Pollux.

I was the last person to sleep because I was busy getting reacquainted with my old friends, the stars. I went to bed only because I got spooked that I was possibly the only soul awake at that beach that time.

I lay down and talked to God, and I expected Him to answer - and then I realized that I was right beneath a great big cross formed by the stars of the constellation Leo.


The Hubby woke me up sometime around 3am to tell me we ought to move inside because the sea-breeze was going down to freezing degrees. I opened my eyes to marvelous night-sky jewels -- Scorpius, Ophiuchus, Hercules, Serpens, Corona Borealis, Bootes, Coma Berenices. I even spotted the spectral Milky Way. Gemma, the yellow alpha star of Corona, was right on top of me. I didn't want to budge because it was just all too pretty.

I didn't wake up early enough to catch the sunrise.


But it's still a nice, clear morning by the sea.


Contact with beauty really does make life a bit more worthwhile.

winding down early

I was fortunate to be able to wind down earlier than usual last night, and thus go to bed relatively earlier. And (though I was obsessing a bit over the things that I could have been doing instead of taking a break), I was glad that by 8pm, I wasn't at the computer as I usually would be.

It was a happy little accident actually. I was set to attend a 7pm meeting so I put my notes and work-stuff aside and turned the laptop off. I later learned that the meeting was canceled. I thought of going back to the laptop to get some work done before going to bed. But since this old machine i work on takes around thirty minutes to switch on, boot and warm up, I decided to just let it rest. I reckoned could use some rest myself. In wanting to avoid the unnecessary techno-stress, I thought of just winding down with the Hubby in front of the telly instead. I haven't been able to do that in a while, and it felt nice to.

To keep my mind from obsessing over the next day's work, I took a pad of paper and a pencil and did some drawing. I came up with something rather cute. That's something else I miss doing - drawing, I mean - and was really glad to have had time for it last night.

I love the computer and I love the internet - in fact I realize I've gotten quite dependent and spend too much time on it - but I really appreciate staying away from the computer sometimes. Because I get to be in touch with the other things that I love.

I'm considering the discipline of logging off by 8 or 9pm, whether or not work is done. I think that's a good idea. Pack up early, dim the lights and wind down with a cold glass of chocolate milk. Why not? Maybe a good book and a soft pillow next time instead of TV and pencil-and-paper.