MY LIFE AND THOUGHTS

I got tagged by my good friend, MJ  to share 25 random things about myself. Given the fact that I’ve been blogging on and off for quite sometime now, it’s remarkably impossible to think of 25 tidbits that I haven’t already shared with the entire online world. I can say that my life is an open blog. But anyway, here’s my attempt to share y’all 25 things about myself

1.   I would rather not read a book or watch a movie with sad ending.

2.  I don’t believe you have to spend a lot of money to get delicious food. Food prepared with tender loving care from our loved ones is the best.

3.  I am not an adventurous eater, I don’t mind eating the same dish in the same restaurant over and over again.

4.  I will do pretty much anything for a body massage.

5.  Although I may be lively at times but I always appreciate a nice and quiet day where I can waste my time eating my favorite ice cream and watching TV series in bed.

6.  I am astounded that I can believe in certain things so strongly, yet behave contrary to those beliefs — often without even realizing it.

7.  I hate confrontation. But if I did, something in me might have snapped.

8.  I prefer small town living to big cities.

9.  I used to want to be a leftie and would practice writing with my left hand when I was a kid.

10. Even as a child, I was told that I ask too many questions.

11. I hate gladiator sandals and feel strangely neutral on the subject of Uggs.

12. I don’t get angry at nasty messages and comments. On the contrary, I feel sorry for the people who write them because I assume they treat everyone in their life like that.

13.  I never cut my fingernails at night because this will bring misfortune - - (sub)urban myth in my family
14. I plan to move to India someday….seriously!

15. Someone once told me I was too nice and wouldn’t get ahead because of this.

16. I really think that Pres. Obama is an alien sent here to earth to do weird experiments on us, like erasing our ability to think
17. I have amazingly good intuition and I’m always right when I trust it.

18. I’d like to have more men friends.

19. I’m terrible at remembering names, but very good at remembering faces.

20. I’ve had the same Bible for almost 15 years…..not interested in getting a new one.

21. I’m the least-jealous person in the world.

22. I worry way, way too much about things. It is my worst quality. I hate it.

23.  I believe that happiness in life depends much on the ability to enjoy small things. Birds at the feeder, a kitten’s explorations, a good cup of coffee.

24. I am thinking of taking modern dance classes, and I want to learn to do flamenco.

25. Scary movies and me do not mix.

Now’s my turn to tag: AJ, Ruthi, Nel, Bea, Shem, Joselyn, Annette, Richelle, Len and Silvia

I’ve been working out, sleeping more, eating better, using anti-aging targeted skincare products packed with Retinol and vitamin C, wearing sunscreen, and keeping my mind active and honed lest it slows down. I’ve been taking vitamins E, C and Calcium diligently. I’m ready for that time of my life when I’m no longer young, yet not quite old. (Even if my brain keeps telling me I’m still only 28, hehehe)

But just when I’ve found all the reasons why I’m at the threshold of the best time of my life, I’m freaking out again.

I realized a while back that older people are just extreme versions of their younger selves. For instance, that girl you knew back in high school who couldn’t bear to throw anything of sentimental value away. Fast forward to 30 or 40 years from now and she’ll probably have piles of junk — receipts from 1990, bundles of old letters and Christmas cards from family and friends dated back 1985 and boxes of unsorted yellowed paper and photos.

I’m observing my own parents and possibly viewing my future. They’ve become grouchier, more temperamental and moody, overly sensitive, and even a bit more eccentric, as older people tend to become. My mom’s mother, for instance, had the driest, most sarcastic sense of humor of anyone I’ve ever known. Other people seemed to find her hilarious but when she was around I used to hide so I wouldn’t see who she’d fodder for her entertainment. Of course now, I regret that I only spent a few years with her, but that’s a story for another day . So now I’ve realized mom is the same way grandma was; in fact, one time Papa told her, “That’s what you get for that sense of humor of yours!” when Mama cracked a joke that didn’t go over well, or at least as she had expected or hoped.

I can see a little bit of both Mama and Papa in me, both the good and not-so-good. A decade ago I was seeing a therapist and one day the clouds suddenly lifted and the skies cleared, shone brightly and so blue when she said that it appeared I was trying to correct my parents’ mistakes by committing the same ones and then trying to resolve them. I think that was the last appointment I ever made; there was nothing else she could have said that would have been more helpful to me.

But I’m also very different from my parents, even if I probably would have been better off if I were more similar in certain aspects (it would have been great if I had been born with my mother’s killer legs, but my younger sister - Anna, alas, was the lucky one). What I suppose this means is that I can look at them and either see my future or what could have been, but that in the end it all depends on the choices I start making now.

Either way it goes, I know that ultimately I have my parents to thank for the fact I have these choices today, whether or not I have nature or nurture on my side. The rest is up to me. And dear God (if you’re there) I hope I never become grouchy.

……..is my favourite gymnast right now.

I was perched on top of a mini fitball in front of my TV watching with absolute
awe at the Women’s Individual All- Round artistic gymnastics. Nastia Liukin stole
the gold medal from all the girls. She made her daddy’s dreams come true (he was Russia’s Individual All-Round Gymnast in his time) and as some reporters put it,
broke China’s dominance over the gymnastics sport.

Did you watch it? She was absolutely amazing in all events. I just can’t get
over how strong and powerful yet graceful, poised and flexible this girl is.
Those two just don’t go hand in hand. And very unlike artistic gymnasts, her
body isn’t extremely V-shaped, and all bulky. She’s got this gorgeous lean body
with long legs and long arms. Ooohhhh the jealousssyyy!!

What completely swept me off my feet was her floor exercise.
Gone were the days
where rhythmic gymnasts were all bendy and contortiony, while artistic
gymnasts were bulky stiff ones. Artistic gymnasts are really flexible too! This
girl was doing needle point pivots, and 180 split leaps. AND…and…they don’t even wear half shoes! *salute* I’m just shocked at
how much flexibility the sport demands now. I’ve always thought that floor exercise is mostly about leaping and tossing themselves
around from corner to corner on the carpets. But nooo…. They require just about
as much poise and grace and perhaps not that much flexibility but they seem to
be getting there!

Fake hair is bad all the time. I’m not talking about men either (on whom toupees always look ridiculous…you’d have a better chance of fitting in if you just went bald). About 10 years ago, hair extensions were all the rage-Jennifer Aniston, Celine Dion, etc. Famous people were sporting top-of-the line, down-to-their-butts extensions that looked fabulous. Unfortunately, like most trends, these styles trickled down the general public who, for the most part, can not afford to make it look right. At that time, I was seeing all sorts of bad hair. Stand behind someone going down on an escalator and you could see realistic looking hair woven into some chick’s fake hair.

I think the worst however, was those kiosks you’d see in shopping malls that sold those god-awful-pony-tail attachments made of plastic Barbie doll hair. Even when ass-long hair was the super fad, I never understood why on earth any self-respecting woman would ever get one of them. They don’t even look like they are trying to be real hair. The pony-tail part of them didn’t even look
real.

I thought that we were done with that fad when I saw a woman sporting one of them at the gym. AT THE GYM!!! I wear my hair in a ponytail, use a head band and ensure that my bangs are long enough to be swept up so that when I’m working out, I don’t get bothered by my hair. Why on earth would someone want MORE hair during their workout? And it’s all plastic too! That would mean you would get neck-sweat just standing.

Now, I’ve seen this woman at the gym several times, and was hoping it would be an isolated incident. Today, driving through the main road of Gadsden, I noticed another of these women. I wish there were such thing as fashion police.

They say a child has a great insight and they say that a child would say things that no one else, not even your best friend would tell you.

I’ve always thought I look hot and fashionable in my sexy, pointy stilletos, until the other day when a kid in the church approached me and started pressing that part of my shoe where no human toes have gone before. After a couple of seconds, he looked up to me and asked, “Why are your shoes like these?”

For once, I didn’t have anything to say. I looked at him helplessly and tried to make do with a smile. Not to be deterred, he continued looking at me, then my shoes, then at me again and pursued his line of questioning. “Why are they pointed?”

I could have said to him - - “Well, all the Sex and the City girls wear them” or “Aren’t you aware that they’re the in thing right now?” I could have told him how pointy shoes make your feet look narrow and how pretty they look peeking out of the bottom of your pants. I could have given him a million and one reasons. But I didn’t. I was stumped.

Dear sweet little boy, I’ll admit it. I don’t know the answer to your question. But you know what? Tonight I’d look at my shoe rack and all of my pointy pumps. I’d think back on times such as this, and this, two of the numerous times I’ve gone home with a pair of nice pointy shoes inside a paper bag. I’d think of the times, I nearly sprained my ankle after having tripped and the times I’ve had to massage my feet after the muscles have cramped from being in an unnatural position the entire day. Because, at that very minute, I understood perfectly well what you we were thinking: unless my feet were triangular, I had no business wearing triangular tipped shoes instead of round ones.

I’m turning a year older this month but in my mind I’m 28. I don’t know why I’m stuck on that number. when people ask me how old I am (how rude!), that’s what my brain flashes - - in neon lights even, hahaha!!!!! But my tongue wants to tell the truth it already knows. So, I trip on my words and end up spewing a bunch of different numbers as I become even more thoroughly confused. They say 40 is the new 30: I’m sure I’ll think I’m 10 years younger. I suppose I am where I should be after all.

There are a few reminders of how I’m way past the cut-off age separating Youth from the Establishment. There are many things I really don’t get: Britney Spears, the OC, gansta rap, bras peeking out of tops and thongs peeking out from behind low-rise jeans (get the right kind of lingerie, damnit!). But nothing defines my age more than music - - not just the music I listen to or don’t listen to, but what people think I should be into.

Sometimes when I am familiar with music the “young ‘uns” are listening to, it’s almost like I trespassed on private property. For instance, not too long ago I was in the gym counter waiting for the girl to come back to hand me my car keys. Her co-worker walked into the counter. He was about to tell me that the girl will be back soon, then abruptly stopped. I saw his ears stiffen and rotate toward the direction of the music coming out of the speakers nearby; his eyes slowly turned and said to me “You listen to Usher ? “he asked bluntly. “yeah, what about it?” I retorted “ummmmmmmm.” he hesitated slightly. “Shouldn’t you be listening to Celine Dion or something? Like my sister does.”

And then just the other night, the ‘mystery man’ and I were watching an infotainment show on TV. The talking head was discussing all the awards Usher’s been receiving lately, including how his previous CD, Confessions is now seven-times platinum. The ‘mystery man’ looked annoyed. “Who listens to Usher anyway?” he asked no one in particular. I slowly raised my hand in front of his face. “Ugh, I do,” I confessed. “He actually has pretty good CDs.”

“No way!” he replied. And then he paused, looked at me and my raised arm again and asked, “You’re kidding, right?” I shook my head. When he realized I was serious, he quipped, “Hmmmm, so you’re trying to be young again, huh.”

The following morning while peddling around the house, I thought (mistakenly) I was all alone so I blasted a few tracks of old De La Soul on my Bose CD player to help jolt me from my sleepy trance. The ‘mystery man’, strolled into the living room with a big smile on his face. “Oooohhhhh…so you listen to rap? he teased.

At this point I’d had it. “OK, what am I supposed to be lsitening to?” I demanded. He replied, “Well, maybe Celine or Mariah or Dido?” At least, he got Dido right.

Just for the record, I plan to age gracefully. I’ve managed so far not to look like I got stuck in an 80’s time warp (although I still love 80’s music), and I plan to keep my look and wardrobe updated with each passing season. But I’ll always dress appropriately for my age (and body), and I hope I don’t ever resemble one of those on-screen mothers who by some force of twisted magic switch bodies with their daughters and end up looking and acting ridiculous.

However, what I won’t do is limit what I read, or listen to. OK, I confess I’ve concealed my reading or viewing choices. I was bummed when Buffy the Vampire slayer and Dawson Creek went off the air - - but I didn’t mention it to anyone. And once in a rare while in the doctor’s waiting room, I’ll pick up Seventeen instead of National Geographic - - and I’ll make sure no one else can see the cover.

But I will listen to anything I want to, and I don’t care who knows it. They say music is a universal language that transcends race, creed, and geography, after all - - and I say it knows no age, too. There’s something wonderful about how three generations within a family can sing along to Sinatra. Or how a friend of mine still grooves to Talk Talk’s “Its’ My Life.”

One time, I was with 20-year old Kate in my car off for lunch. She started crooning to the song on the radio: “Baby, let’s….let’s stay together,” she sang. I shouted over the music so she could hear me, “Hey! you know Al Green? “

“I love this song,” she replied, and without missing a beat kept on singing. I couldn’t resist and asked, “Shouldn’t you be listening to 50 Cent or something? “she chose to ignore me, so I shrugged my shoulders and sang along with her: “Loving you whether, whether times are good or bad, happy or sad……“

It did strike me that Kate wasn’t even born when the song was first released but I was - - but I’m not saying how old I was in those years (except I will state I was much, much, MUCH younger than her mother, who was probably in college during that time). It dawned upon me then that just as it’s cool for her to appreciate songs loved by a previous generation, it’s OK for me to love music intended for the next. Except for gangsta rap - - I really don’t get that, and I wouldn’t have if I were really 10 years younger. And that’s my 28-year-old self talking.

Anyway, happy happy birthday to all February born!!!!

I usually am in one of my three moods: pensive, happy, or overjoyed. This week make it four: grouchy.

I’m still feeling a bit snappy but haven’t let go of my usual optimism, for instance: I know, for sure, I’m not going to kill anyone today. Trust me. With the kind of week I’ve been having, I consider that statement of positivity proof of my deep-down inner perkiness. Still, I find that these days, things that normally bug me REALLY annoy me- and until I shake off this funk I’m in, it would be best for folks who generally fit any of the following descriptions below to keep away from me (or announce yourselves so I can stay away from you).

1. FLAB BLAB - Didn’t all our mothers tell us that if we have nothing good to say about others, then just don’t say anything? I’ll be visiting the Philippines in April and will be spending a lot of my time in Iloilo, my dad’s home province and I’m already dreading the idea of chancing upon a (rude) relative or acquaintance, have him/her take a good look at me and ask loudly, “Ano natabo sa imo?  Nagtambok ka!”(Hey! what happened to you? You’ve gotten fat!)

I feel insulted on so many different levels that it’s all I can do to contain myself from launching into verbal attack mode. First: Do you think I’m so stupid (and blind) that I can’t see for myself I’ve gained weight? Thanks for noticing but maybe you should buy a mirror that actually works and then take a good look at yourself first - if you can stand it! Two: Oh yeah, I know - - in fact I’ve been losing weight slowly but surely. But I’m worried about you; I don’t think they’ve found a cure for ugliness yet, or have they? Three: Yes, I guess I am - - but you should know all about that since you’re so fat yourself! Four: Oh, you know what what they say, fat but happy! Too bad you’re not, apparently. Five: Well, I wasn’t going to suggest you need a complete beauty and fashion makeover really, really badly, but since you brought the topic up…..”

My family tells me that folks back home do that only because it’s their way of either saying HELLO or making conversation. Next time they should just try saying, ” Dugay ka na guid nawala - kamusta ka na subong? (You’ve been gone for so long - - what’s up with you these days?) Is that really so hard to do?

2. TONGUE TWISTER - It’s one thing to assume an American/ British/ Australian/ Canadian accent because you live in any of those English-speaking countries and need to be understood by the locals. Or even if you’ve lived there for so long that your accent has been unavoidably altered. But I know my neighbor who is residing in Canada for a few years now who likes to tell our neighbors that when she speaks to any English-speaking person, her accent “comes back” to her (she’s obviously not referring to her Filipino accent). She now refers to her mother as “mum” (even in her entire adult years she called her “mamang”, LOL!) and breaks into a cringe-inducing pseudo-Canadian accent that even Neve Campbell and Jim Carrey wouldn’t recognize.

I know this for a fact: Someone  who has lived in another country for a couple of years or so will not acquire a new accent permanently. I’ve lived in the States for almost twenty years, and yet when I go back home, people wouldn’t really know I’ve been gone this long; for crissakes even the call center people in Makati speak with a stronger twang than I do over there. Look - - even Madonna sounds ridiculous conversing like a member of English royalty (even if she owns almost as much acreage as they do). The only reason people affect accents is to show how much “better” they’ve become or how superior they now are. In fact, I read it somewhere some Brits say that when they want to intimidate Americans, they try to sound like BBC newscasters and milk the Queen’s English for all its worth.

3. AIR HEAD - A male Friendster buddy met a woman through Friendster a while back; she’s a model/ party girl in Hongkong. When he showed me her profile, I almost had the shock of my life when I read her statement unequivocally that NO ugly persons are to contact her. Zhang Ziyi (lead actress of the movie, “Memoirs of a Geisha”), she warns : “If you’re ugly and try to contact me I will send you a mirror.” Ouch! I mean, she’s not lacking in the pulchritude department (at least as far as I could tell with all that makeup she had on), but Zhang Ziyi she’s certainly not.

Whenever I come across folks who have inflated sense of their superiority (be it because of their beauty, money, class, title, and so on), I can almost hear the slow hissing sound of their balloon deflating. Because no one has what they have forever, and someone else is always bound to be on top.

4. PEA BRAIN - I’ll make this one short because I believe it should be obvious. I don’t enjoy comments that are racist, sexist, homophobic - - anything that involves hating and harming people due to fear, stupidity and ignorance. And jokes of this kind are the worst; they’re powerful tools of all cowardly bigots. Because how do you fight a joke? You really can’t - - because the lily-livered idiot hides underneath the cloak of jest, inevitably claims to have been joking, and then accuses you of having no sense of humor. I have absolutely no patience for anything mean-spirited or close-minded even when it comes from the mouth of those near and dear to me. There’s just nothing funny about hate.

How To Have The Worst First Weekend Of 2008

First, start off with having absolutely nothing planned, save for a party that you’ve lost all enthusiasm for. Spend the entire Saturday in bed, catching up on much-needed sleep and basically to forget the fact that you might finally get those Krispy Kreme doughnuts

from your bestfriend.

By 6:00 in the evening, lose all hope that the doughnuts will ever materialize. Force one’s self to get ready for aforementioned party so as not to make weekend a loss. Then upon receiving text message from doughnut friend telling you she forgot all about the doughnut  and it’s too late, maybe tomorrow na lang, hit forehead in drama queen fashion and repeat to self "stop hanging out with this friend, stop hanging out with this friend, stop hanging out with this friend" until you finally convince yourself that no amount of chanting will change the fact that you absolutely like this friend and will be friends with her for the rest of your lives.

Change plans for evening once you get a text message telling you that some friends are planning on watching a movie in the mall. Would you care to join them? Regret agreeing once all of you are stuck in the traffic jam!

Regret it so much more after you end up hitting a cab and having a shouting match with cab driver. On principle, refuse to pay cab driver and demand that you will let your insurance deal with everything, spend the entire night driving to police station, getting everything fixed, and then attempting to go back to the mall to return to your friends. Accept the fact that only exciting scene you witnessed that night was the shouting match between you and the cab driver.

How To Have What Might Possibly Be The Best Weekend of 2008

After hitting said cab, your friends end up calling doughnut friend, who, after forgetting to bring your doughnuts, headed to the mall to watch movie with your common friends. Be genuinely surprised that doughnut friend was voted unanimously by everyone to accompany you to police station as you are not equipped to have a non-shouting conversation with cab driver. Allow doughnut friend to take care of everything, including photocopying of your license and car registration. Also, allow  doughnut friend to cheer you back into "happy mood" all the way back to the mall.

On Sunday, go to mass and schedule a one-on-one with someone who will set your priorities straight, part of which includes her telling you to please stop thinking about trivial things. Accede to her wishes knowing that it’ll be best for your sanity.

When you get home, heat pizza and decide to finish the last of your newly purchased book. Be genuinely surprised when doughnut friend texts you asking your whereabouts and proposing that you two finally go get the doughnut . Spend next couple of hours driving from your home to the doughnut place, chatting as you have three doughnuts each, and driving back home. Smile even bigger if doughnut friend tells you how pretty you look these days and how glad that you’re her friend.

A friend of mine suggested one day that I got to make a Christmas list and, being the materialistic person that I am, it didn’t seem like a bad idea. I know I want a Laura Mercier tinted moisturizer and toner, Jimmy Choo shoes, a pink - and - cream planner, and well, more money in the bank But then I realized the things I REALLY  really want, no one can give me except me (or God via miracles).

I want to lose weight. I want straight hair. I want my handful of white hairs to fall of and be replaced with gorgeous hair in my natural color. I want the ability to wake up early without an alarm clock. I want hairless legs so I don’t need waxing nor laser treatments. I want my armpits whiter. I want the skin pores on my face to shrink. I want eyebrows that have natural arc. I want my eyes to be 20/20. I want my room to miraculously fix itself and stay fixed.

But am willing to live with fat, frizzy graying hair, alarm clocks, shaving/depilatories/more laser treatments, dark armpits, pores I have to hide, abject poverty, threading/eyebrow waxing, contacts and eyeglasses, and a messy room if it means I will be completely and extremely happy in the years to come.

Discover something you may have known all along but haven’t realized.

Let me ask you a question about shawls and scarves. What kind of fashion garment do you need to turn your winter wardrobe blues into winter wardrobe bliss? It’s hard to feel good about your clothing when the temperature drops and you’re stuck wearing the same thing when you go to work or elsewhere. It really feels like your options are so limited as soon as winter has come upon us.

To make matters worse, you have to dress expecting it to be cold but when you get into a warm office, it gets too hot! Is there some way that you can find a balance, a happy medium that can help you feel warm when you want to be warm and cool down slightly when you need to do that also, all the time feeling fashionable? That sounds like an impossible order. Is it really possible?

The answer is YES! Shawls and scarves are comfortable especially the pashmina type, soft type of cashmere that feels and looks luxuriant. Shawls and scarves allow you to keep warm when you need to but are easy to carry and stow when you don’t need them. Just fold them flat and put them in your office drawer or simply stash them away inside your purse. Then, when you need to go outside,and you’re wrap you one around you ready to go! That makes it so versatile, practical, and in vogue.

You don’t find that combination very often. These fashion statements have been around since the dawn of time and were used by women in various cultures for both practical and fashionable purposes. That’s no different today. You’ll love wrapping one of these soft, pashmina shawls/scarves around your shoulders or neck. Keep the shawl together with a gorgeous pin - - - looking for the perfect brooch pin is almost as fun as shopping for the perfect shawl.

These wraps aren’t just for your shoulders and your neck, no…they also make beautiful stylish head wraps

for women who want to cover and keep their heads warm. This could be for religious, fashion, or medical (chemotherapy) reasons. There are so many reasons why you should wear a shawl or scarf. They come in variety of sizes, colors, and with or without fringes so you have a wide choice to choose from. Get several and match them with a variety of outfits to multiply the potential outfits you have in your closet.

For example, using your imagination put together a great pair with jeans and a top for a stylish look on a date or out with your friends. Or, wrap one around you to be comfortable at the office (many offices are kept far too cold!). Or, surround yourself in a soft shawl that matches your formal dress for those winter special occasions. My shawls look great in me and I feel great in them. They bring so much versatility to your wardrobe and bring sense of refined fashion sense to how you carry yourself.