wallpaper

thank you Ces for my LEAP wallpaper. Me likey!

:) happy happy joy joy

The 80's Parody

I love the 80's! The bangs standing up courtesy of the spray net, the happy tunes free of angst, the electronic keyboard trip... and most of all the funny dance moves.

So when I watched the movie "Music and Lyrics" which opened with this hilarious parody of an 80s MTV, I knew I had to put it in my blog to cheer me up.

That's Hugh Grant who plays Alex Fletcher, a happy 80s rockstar has been. He did a lot of vocals for the film, alongside Drew Barrymore. Have fun with the fluff!

This is the Moment

Sigh. This LEAP video captured perfectly how special I felt during my Leap graduation night. This is a great reminder, to move forward with character and courage.

I am beautiful. I am great. I am loved. I am love.

I am complete.

I SURRENDER!

(kudos to Coach Adelle for the this video)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JyrM9riUY7Y





The LEAP Song: REACH by Gloria Estefan




Some dreams live on in time forever
Those dreams, you want with all your heart
And I’ll do whatever it takes
Follow through with the promise I made
Put it all on the line
What I hoped for at last would be mine

If I could reach, higher
Just for one moment touch the sky
From that one moment in my life
Im gonna be, stronger
Know that I’ve tried my very best
I’d put my spirit to the test
If I could reach

Some days are meant to be remembered
Those days we rise above the stars
So I’ll go the distance this time
Seeing more the higher I climb
That the more I believe
All the more that this dream will be mine

If I could reach, higher
Just for one moment touch the sky
From that one moment in my life
I’m gonna be, stronger
Know that I’ve tried my very best
I’d put my spirit to the test
If I could reach

If I could reach, higher
Just for one moment touch the sky
I’m gonna be stronger
From that one moment in my life
I’m gonna be so much stronger yes I am
Know that I’ve tried my very best
I’d put my spirit to the test
If I could reach higher
If I could, if I could
If I could reach
Reach, I’d reach, I’d reach
I’d reach I’d reach so much higher
Be stronger

Lifing (ecopark and Pyro)

There is living and there is lifing (pronounced as Life-ing).. i like inventing words of my own, perhaps just for the joy of creating something new.. or maybe because a part of me wants to defy the laws of grammar and syntax.

I had two full weeks of work, and more importantly, play.

Last January 6, 2007 I went with friends (Rhea and Ces) to the La Mesa Ecopark.

The purple bike I rode cost P70 an hour, it was tall and it had a basket so it was okay. The only thing I wasn't too happy about was the small biking area... it was fun weaving through trees and bumping up and down the rocky paths, but after 10 minutes or so I have gone through the whole biking area already. Bitin. :-(


Ces (aka tarebear) really has a good eye and steady hand. She took this shot (above and below) from the ecopark.


White duck
Sitting on the green lilies
Webbed feet paddling underneath
(photo by Ces)

This picnic table (I took this shot!) was made from fragments of the old La Mesa Dam. Go visit the La Mesa ecopark if you think you had enough of the urban landscape. http://www.bantaykalikasan.com

January 13, 2006
After having free food and accommodation from Mabuhay Manor (thanks to my friend Jude who is doing a profile of the hotel), finally I was able to watch the Pyro Olympics at mall of Asia.

The traffic was HORRENDOUS! The streets became instant parking lots especially around the mall of asia. The crowds sat on the sidewalks, cemented parking lots, waiting for the show to start. I was there as early as 3pm (the show is at 8pm) and already the streets are half full. Karen and Nerissa joined later on, and we played "Pass the Message" and "Clairvoyance (a game we made up) to pass the time.

Here are some photos that I took:

Mall of Asia. The sky glimpsed in circles.

I like the design of the mall because it lets a lot of natural sunlight in, and they used the sky as natural backdrops to soothe the weary maller.

Some of the fireworks are unpredictable.
After you see a ball of fire launched into the black sky
It can burst into a huge sphere (like a detonated bomb)
Or it can slowly unravel like petals stretching from sleep.

I liked the element of surprise.
Sometimes the spherical fireworks would expand suddenly it looked alarmingly near,
you'd think that a planet made of sparks was about to crash to the earth.

And there are specks of light that seemed to linger longer than the others...

Thin strands of light that streak downward...

The crowds collective cheers...

Red gold white green and blue filling almost the whole sky, as far as the eye can see...


Here is Denzil's video from YouTube, it looks better than the video i took perhaps because he used a video camera and a tripod.

Below is the short video I took using a kodak easy share digicam. This is my first video I ever uploaded in YouTube. Yay! Now I know how!


Glee Glee Glee. =)

Core

The universe is designed in such a way that layers will either hide, or reflect, the core.

When I was in elementary school, I liked drawing the layers of the earth and would pay special attention to the core. It reminded me of an avocado seed peeking out from the fleshy layers of the sliced fruit. Ofcourse later on I learned that the inner core was made of the densest most solid iron and the outer core was made of molten iron.. its movements affect the mantle, the crust, the ocean, the volcanoes, and us.




But I have often wondered if no one has actually seen the core, how did they guess what it is made of?

Galileo (bless him) was able to tell that the earth was round by the curved path the stars and planets take across the sky. Without ever seeing earth from outside, he knew the shape of our planet by observing the other elements relative to the earth.

And the scientists are guessing what the core is made of based from the things that come out from the surface... magma for instance.. seismic waves..the movements beneath the ocean.

So the only way to find out what the inner is made of is to observe the outer?

Is it the same way with people? Do you get the gist, the core of the person by observing how other people treat them?

Recently I took this IQ test from tickle to find out my "core" gifts.. after answering about 25 questions here is what I got:



Your IQ score is 122

Your Intellectual Type is Insightful Linguist. This means you are highly intelligent and have the natural fluency of a writer and the visual and spatial strengths of an artist. You can take complex concepts and articulate them to just about anyone. You have a gift with words and insight into processes and the way people think. You're particularly well equipped to come out on top since you can read people well.

Greatest Talents: Can clarify complex issues. Can bring new insight to ideas through their fresh perspective. Are good at leading teams.

Jobs: publicist, graphic designer, teacher, braodcaster, public speaker, attorney.

I scored low on logic and medium on math (big surprise), but I did well in visual-spatial (100% percentile rank)



and linguistic (100% percentile rank) ...




So is this IQ test result the answer to my question of what is my core gift? Perhaps. I already have an idea that i think in pictures and words. I also know I am illogical at times and decide on things based of gut-feel. I have peddled my writing talents.. used words to get donors or participants for a workshop... this is what I am earning from. But it would also be cool to be a street scientist, the way David Blane became the street magician, I can see myself explaining the concept of blackholes to an MMDA officer using a flashlight and a blanket.

I think people's core's are trickier to reveal. Sometimes the external does not reflect the internal. I have met many writers who think they are not writers at all .. they need someone else, preferably someone with a Phd, to tell them that they are writers. And I guess that is their own process of discovering who they are.

The book Conversations with God says life is not about discovering who you are, but it is the process of creating who you are.

I like that better. My IQ score says my math and logic is patchy.. but I can create otherwise. My reflex of not looking at anything that has radical signs, derivatives, logarithms, and polynomials... I can curb and try to understand it in pictures and words.

The Game of My Life

LEAP: Love, Excellence, Abundance, Power

I just graduated from this life seminar called LEAP last December 16-17, 2006. LEAP is the seven week program wherein i went through modules that required physical as well as emotional involvement to help me realize my dreams...

Some had money goals of earning 1 million pesos, some set up their own foundations or enterprises. I completed a draft of my modern fairytale book and pampered my body as well as go out on 15 dates. Believe me, juggling work, late night meetings with my life coach and council mates, and fullfilling my weekly action plan was a challenge. And I give myself a pat on the back for daring to test my capacity. Being the introvert shy person, going out on dates, revising my wardrobe was a challenge. For the book, I usually get stuck with the intros, if I don't like the beginning chapter I don't finish any draft at all... but now I am proud to say I did it!

During the journey there were

tears...

and I learned I can shift to being happy, by the power of my choice...

I learned how to get out of my comfort zone by trying on something different,

a new perspective or a new style.

I learned how to listen with my heart, recognizing unexpected life mentors.

And that a touch could last a long while in the hearts of the lonely and abandoned...

And of course, it's nice to be naughty sometimes... ;-)



And it feels good to remember my light within.. thanking God that I am already complete, with or without achievements...















The journey is not so much a roller coaster but more of a constant tug of war.. will I settle for what is comfortable or mediocre the next time? Will I dwell again on the dramas of my life? Or will I remember I am created loving, powerful, and beautiful? I hope in the real game of my life (the life AFTER) the seminar, I will be able to make happy choices and fully exude the greatness within me.

I love me! I love life! Thank you for this experience OCCI Team Leap 30eeee!!!

ALSO HERE ARE SOME VIDEOS FOR YOUR VIEWING PLEASURE...Courtesy of OCCI Paparazzi team (Adelle, Camille, etc)

and from Coach Karlo

HOT BABE

I am a hot babe.

Even though I'm claiming it, there are some cringing embarrassment at the periphery but i choose to ignore it.. because it is more fun being a hot babe than being a beautiful person who is blind to her own greatness..

This life seminar i am taking called LEAP is helping me bring out the me I've always wanted to be. I feel so happy and blessed to be re-discovering and reclaiming the power I have...
Some of my major learnings:

1) Goals will literally fall into my lap without me working hard for it.. if only i totally embrace my wholeness and exude my greatness. A new car won't make me affluent. Several hot dates won't make me attractive and desirable... when I feel already affluent and desirable and loving inside.. that new car and those dates are just bonuses... reflections of what is already within.

2) Planning sometimes doesn't work. There are times where being "in the present moment" matters more. I plan what I'll say, what I'll share, what will make me appear smart and confident.. but in the middle of the sharing i connected to what i am saying.. i allowed myself to feel and veered from the script in my head then suddenly i am about to cry in front of those people i barely knew.. sharing a very intimate thing about me.. this wasnt the plan.. but it feels damn good.. and that moment reminded me my spontaneity is what i have been repressing and what has been making me feel un-excited and un-joyful..

i am so happy to feel and to just be...

3) The Makeover.. there's a chair with my name on it.. i entered a room and this team of fashionistas, hairdressers and make up artists where all over me.. i felt scared but excited.. a fresh new talent who is about to enter a tv show.. and wow.. i never thought i could were a tube and high heeled clogs, ears dangling with huge hoop earrings and strut my stuff.. RAMPA RAMPA.. and the crowd cheered... the way I hear people cheer in may daydreams and fantasies of being a hot babe in the spotlight.. i've always thought they are just harmless fantasies that aren't really meant for reality.. there is joy and comfort in keeping fantasies unreal cuz making it real will lose its appeal... BUT HOW WRONG I WAS... I've always wanted to feel beautiful but i haven't been taking my body seriously in figuring out what will make it feel and look good...
and damn, I saw the made over me and I looked good.. but more importantly I am amazed by my own daring and beauty.

LEAP is making the old shy me very very uncomfortable... but the me I have always keeping control of.. the wild woman who wants to be like Angelina Jolie, live out adventures... that inner me is very very happy.
God, thank you for life and chances. MMMMMWAH!
(for those who are interested to know more about these life boosting seminars I am talking about, just shoot me an email at gusts_of_clarity@yahoo.com)

reading from Murakami

I have just let go of someone special.. and this story by Murakami disturbed me..

On Seeing the 100% Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning
by Haruki Murakami

One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo's fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl.

Tell you the truth, she's not that good-looking. She doesn't stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn't young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a "girl," properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She's the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there's a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.

Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl - one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you're drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I'll catch myself staring at the girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of her nose.

But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can't recall the shape of hers - or even if she had one. All I can remember for sure is that she was no great beauty. It's weird.

"Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl," I tell someone.

"Yeah?" he says. "Good-looking?"

"Not really."

"Your favorite type, then?"

"I don't know. I can't seem to remember anything about her - the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts."

"Strange."

"Yeah. Strange."

"So anyhow," he says, already bored, "what did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?"

"Nah. Just passed her on the street."

She's walking east to west, and I west to east. It's a really nice April morning.

Wish I could talk to her. Half an hour would be plenty: just ask her about herself, tell her about myself, and - what I'd really like to do - explain to her the complexities of fate that have led to our passing each other on a side street in Harajuku on a beautiful April morning in 1981. This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock build when peace filled the world.

After talking, we'd have lunch somewhere, maybe see a Woody Allen movie, stop by a hotel bar for cocktails. With any kind of luck, we might end up in bed.

Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.

Now the distance between us has narrowed to fifteen yards.

How can I approach her? What should I say?

"Good morning, miss. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation?"

Ridiculous. I'd sound like an insurance salesman.

"Pardon me, but would you happen to know if there is an all-night cleaners in the neighborhood?"

No, this is just as ridiculous. I'm not carrying any laundry, for one thing. Who's going to buy a line like that?

Maybe the simple truth would do. "Good morning. You are the 100% perfect girl for me."

No, she wouldn't believe it. Or even if she did, she might not want to talk to me. Sorry, she could say, I might be the 100% perfect girl for you, but you're not the 100% boy for me. It could happen. And if I found myself in that situation, I'd probably go to pieces. I'd never recover from the shock. I'm thirty-two, and that's what growing older is all about.

We pass in front of a flower shop. A small, warm air mass touches my skin. The asphalt is damp, and I catch the scent of roses. I can't bring myself to speak to her. She wears a white sweater, and in her right hand she holds a crisp white envelope lacking only a stamp. So: She's written somebody a letter, maybe spent the whole night writing, to judge from the sleepy look in her eyes. The envelope could contain every secret she's ever had.

I take a few more strides and turn: She's lost in the crowd.

Now, of course, I know exactly what I should have said to her. It would have been a long speech, though, far too long for me to have delivered it properly. The ideas I come up with are never very practical.

Oh, well. It would have started "Once upon a time" and ended "A sad story, don't you think?"

Once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl. The boy was eighteen and the girl sixteen. He was not unusually handsome, and she was not especially beautiful. They were just an ordinary lonely boy and an ordinary lonely girl, like all the others. But they believed with their whole hearts that somewhere in the world there lived the 100% perfect boy and the 100% perfect girl for them. Yes, they believed in a miracle. And that miracle actually happened.

One day the two came upon each other on the corner of a street.

"This is amazing," he said. "I've been looking for you all my life. You may not believe this, but you're the 100% perfect girl for me."

"And you," she said to him, "are the 100% perfect boy for me, exactly as I'd pictured you in every detail. It's like a dream."

They sat on a park bench, held hands, and told each other their stories hour after hour. They were not lonely anymore. They had found and been found by their 100% perfect other. What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other. It's a miracle, a cosmic miracle.

As they sat and talked, however, a tiny, tiny sliver of doubt took root in their hearts: Was it really all right for one's dreams to come true so easily?

And so, when there came a momentary lull in their conversation, the boy said to the girl, "Let's test ourselves - just once. If we really are each other's 100% perfect lovers, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again without fail. And when that happens, and we know that we are the 100% perfect ones, we'll marry then and there. What do you think?"

"Yes," she said, "that is exactly what we should do."

And so they parted, she to the east, and he to the west.

The test they had agreed upon, however, was utterly unnecessary. They should never have undertaken it, because they really and truly were each other's 100% perfect lovers, and it was a miracle that they had ever met. But it was impossible for them to know this, young as they were. The cold, indifferent waves of fate proceeded to toss them unmercifully.

One winter, both the boy and the girl came down with the season's terrible inluenza, and after drifting for weeks between life and death they lost all memory of their earlier years. When they awoke, their heads were as empty as the young D. H. Lawrence's piggy bank.

They were two bright, determined young people, however, and through their unremitting efforts they were able to acquire once again the knowledge and feeling that qualified them to return as full-fledged members of society. Heaven be praised, they became truly upstanding citizens who knew how to transfer from one subway line to another, who were fully capable of sending a special-delivery letter at the post office. Indeed, they even experienced love again, sometimes as much as 75% or even 85% love.

Time passed with shocking swiftness, and soon the boy was thirty-two, the girl thirty.

One beautiful April morning, in search of a cup of coffee to start the day, the boy was walking from west to east, while the girl, intending to send a special-delivery letter, was walking from east to west, but along the same narrow street in the Harajuku neighborhood of Tokyo. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew:

She is the 100% perfect girl for me.

He is the 100% perfect boy for me.

But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fouteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever.

A sad story, don't you think?

Yes, that's it, that is what I should have said to her.

Narf Narf Narf

Cute names are usually four-lettered. Take for example.. Narf.. Nerd.. Herd... Bleh...

For those of you who haven't watched M. Night Shyamalan's "Lady in the Water" I suggest you watch it, especially if you are into modern fairy tales involving a water nymph awakening the writers, gilders, and guardians in ordinary people.

The message of the movie for me is how people come to realize their life purpose. Just because an ancient being tells you, you are this promised, foretold guardian who could hypnotize beasts .. do you suddenly become that guardian?

I enjoyed this film because Shyamalan managed to surprise me, the story lures you into a set plot, you have it down pat who will do what.. but then the characters make realizations.. one is purpose is not in what other people tell you you are meant to be. Purpose is what you choose to do. It is like walking to a certain direction without clear direction, and in so walking, you find that direction, you affirm your purpose.

I tend to ask my purpose first before walking anywhere. My boss hands me things to do, but before I do it, I ask myself first.. why is this important to me? what is the purpose? Which, ofcourse, could lead to delays from deadlines, and annoying my boss with rationalizations.. but hey, if they wanted a robot to do their bidding without question, they could always hire artificial intelligence. (Which, by the way, thanks to the Matrix trilogy, made people wary of relying on AI too much. 'Coz AI will end up being smarter than you are and make humans obsolete, now who would want that?)

But then, that is not the point. Purpose. Where are you? I have read the first five chapters of the "Purpose-Driven Life" and yes, it provides guideposts, made me aware again of my ephemeral state, this transciency that causes me to long for something more than this worldly life.. I am not made to last here, I am made to last somewhere else that my human mind cannot easily see. What lies beyond death... to find out is like sending a camera to document what is in the black hole... I guess that is a job we can send AI to. What are the odds of Shyamalan doing that movie? Maybe I should give him a call to make a story about this AI named... Ephemeral.. who is sent by humans to document the Bermuda Triangle, the Black hole, and life after death.

Buckets and Bakits

Bakit nga ba?

Just when I thought I'm done with our magazine report, the press coordinator says we need to add one more page. And then later on, she calls to say we need two more.. what the f???! And so I go to the pre-press house, sat down with the lay-out artist to make those magic pages, then after the final page count we realize we didn't need to add any more pages after all since the final count is already even!!

Buckets

I haven't experienced ploughing through torrential rains until last night. My windsheild was so fogged up, and blurred by sheets and sheets of rain, I could barely see the car before me, could not see at all the car after me, and faint shapes could be seen at my sides, otherwise I have no idea if another vehicle is too near me or not. For the first time in a long while driving was scary again. And the flooded roads, intimidated the smaller cars, perhaps if there would be a new feature that'll make cars float like a boat on floods? I should patent the idea. So, feeling that Hilander, having been with our family for eight years now, could survive the flooded EDSA, I drove on, hearing the water licking the underchassis of my car like zombies' hands trying to pull me and slow me down..

After driving through the flood I checked my brakes if it's still working, and for one panicky second, the car didn't stop while I was stepping on the brakes! Fuck! This is EDSA, if ever I lose my brakes I'd prefer to lose it in a quiet subdivision street! I was never taught at driving school on what to do when your brakes don't work! ... so back to the stepping on the clutch and then the gas and then the brakes.. which, thank God and all things holy, finally worked.

I just hope I'd never drive under a storm again. I'd rather wait it out in the office or a well-lit mini-stop store with dozens of donuts and steaming milo.

Oh, and here's a photo I took during a rainy day in Lipa, Batangas. Lily. :-)

missed rendezvous

Just last week several long lost friends of yore have set up a get together with me, but in one way or another, be it the raging storm or the sudden all-nighter in the publishing house.. those get together I longed for were all cancelled. Partly because I let it, but mostly the conflicting schedules bites.

One talkative officemate says that when she isn't able to talk to someone for eight straight hours in the office she feels.. stale..

"Like a machine?" I supplied.

Yeah, like a machine. Or perhaps in my case, a milking cow. I am expected to produce a pint of ideas every few hours.. milking milking milking me. If cows could talk they'd probably screech.. "stop squeezing my udder! how dare you foul.. you mammary maniacs!"

Sigh. It's just one of them days my brains are fried over medium fire, then baked in the microwave, i feel i have nothing to give as of the moment.

Here is the last drop.

Plop. Plonk. Plop. Plonk.

I need a drink, or a reconnection with my broken circle of friends.

Greed's Gate: Ultra Stampede

To the 30,000 people who squeezed in around the perimeter of Ultra (now Phil. Sports Arena), this steel gate was the gateway to money and prizes worth 2 Million Pesos. Little did they know that for 74 of them, this gate will be their portal to a crushing death.

The stench of a cooped-up and people-crowded place (think Quiapo underpass) was still in the air when I went to Ultra last Monday (February 6) to join a Mass offered for the victims. If you look closely at this photo above, you will see that some of the steel bars have been bent and twisted open by the rowdy throng that surged forward.

Predictably, the public is now pointing fingers as to who is responsible for the senseless carnage. Yes, the event organizers can be blamed for lack of foresight and planning. Yes, it is true that offering 300 tickets to a restless, starved 30,000 crowd is a red-enveloped invite for a stampede. Yes, the greedy members of the crowd who jostled and pushed are also to blame (a witness said there were several burly men at the back who pushed everyone forward). Poverty, and those who are not helping alleviate poverty, are to blame. Everyone, in short, who is not part of the solution, are to blame.

Some families of stampede victims are taken advantage of (milking the drama from them when they clearly need time to mourn without the press “pressing”) and some are the ones taking the advantage (one bereaved family member was heard asking for a metal coffin instead of a wooden coffin and another said they wanted an airplane fare back instead of a ferry).

What now of poverty? What now of senseless deaths? It is still there, hovering like a blunt axe ready to fall on a frail neck. Poverty breeds greed but we have a choice not to be greedy. We have a choice to lend a hand to those trampled upon or we can spend time damning and blaming whoever for however long we want. We have a choice to become the one proposing and doing solutions, or the one perpetually opposing solutions. We keep forgetting the power of our own choice. Fortunately, there are still people out there like 12-year-old Cristina Bugayong, a poor girl who returned P300,000 that a messenger dropped, who chose honesty over greed even if she needed the money. I wonder, how long did Cristina’s story lasted in media circulation compared to the exposure on the products of greed like the stampede and other crimes?

Car Crash Movies

Yesterday I watched in DVD “Just Like Heaven” and “50 First Dates.” Both main characters were in a car accident before they met their “destined” partner. I guess for a love story to be worth making a film for, you have fill the story with every single scenario why the couple couldn’t be together – she’s in a coma, he’s alive; she has short-term memory, he wants to have a long term relationship with her… you get the picture.

In “Just Like Heaven” David (Mark Ruffalo) meets the nagging spirit of Elizabeth (Reese Witherspoon) who pops up everytime he makes a mess in her former apartment. The conflict was built nicely… he was dead inside because of the loss of his wife.. she, a spirit who doesn’t know if she’s dead or not, needs to learn to rely on another person other than herself to find out who she is. They bicker as they go along the mystery solving, which leads them to finally finding where Elizabeth’s body is… in life support inside a hospital. I foresaw what the cliché ending would be: David would have to kiss Elizabeth’s comatose body so come to life again. And so he did. What I didn’t foresee was that when Elizabeth’s spirit returns to her body, she wouldn’t remember David.

I found the movie mildly entertaining, and yes I rooted for David to save Elizabeth, but the middle part while they were bickering and supposedly falling in love… I didn’t “feel” that they falling. It’s just like “oh you nagging spirit, I’m gonna help you find your body to get rid of you but wait, on second thought, I kinda love you.”

I enjoyed 50 First Dates more (what do you expect if you put in Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore together). But Henry Roth (Sandler’s character) had to go through heartwrenching obstacles just to get Lucy Whitaker (Barrymore) meet him and know him again and again… because after Lucy sleeps, she wakes up not remembering anything that happened after October last year… the day she had the car accident. It was really persistent, devoted love on Henry’s part. Though there were corny sequences (Rob Schnieder suddenly appearing in Henry’s aquarium while he makes out with Lucy; Seals vomiting copiously) the love of Henry for Lucy made up for it. After watching the film you’d wish you’d find someone like Henry Roth who will never ever give up on you even if everyone else has given up on you. Imagine, the day before Lucy agrees to marry Henry and make love after more than 50 First Dates, the next morning she wakes up next to Henry – a stranger for her – and whacks him with a huge stick. It’s not easy to love someone like Lucy but Henry makes it look easy because he loves her everyday as if it’s the first day they met.

Goblet of Fire Movie Review

Take away the struggles of trying to learn new spells to get through the tournament, and the forboding sense that Voldemort is getting stronger and that a Death Eater is inside Hogwarts, and that Harry is once again shoved into a situation he didn't want to happen but now he has to slay dragons for it.. then you have the Goblet of Fire the movie which was all about the game of the Tri-wizard tournament. There was no emotional pull about the boy who lived and paying the consequence of living up to everybody's expectations, no gripping conflict that Harry's arch nemesis is about to do him in, though the drama at the end with Harry crying over Cedric's body was palpable, his duel with Voldemort was downplayed and Dumbledore's watchful and compassionate nature wasnt shown.

I'm not satisfied, but if its an okay movie.

I like Blogger more

I like Blogger more than Livejournal. First I don't need photo hosting to put cute pictures like this
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I have a lot of papers I fail to throw out. I've been with more than 5 companies and my room still has files and folders from all of them. I should throw them out someday. I can't be stuck with ghosts of past works.

Oh, I like blogger more because I dont have to memorize all the useless HTML tags. Well my livejournal friend says it pays to know the tags, he may have a point, but when it comes to userfriendliness, blogger is still the best.

Just in case this entry gets searched through Blogger search, I'll put in the name of PinoyWriters and see if this comes up.

Compromises

I recently had chamomile tea with a couple of fellow writers who, like me, are working in a job away from writing. We agreed that the only time we got to write creatively anymore is through the blog. Otherwise, it is only memos, technical reports, mundance correspondences.

I have to make a buck (or in my case, a peso) and delegate my creative pursuits for saturday. But my saturdays are devoted to other things too like catching up with friends, going out with a loved one, getting repairs for car, and maybe grocery.

I miss my Monday rebellion. Impromptu bike rides. Lying on the grass, feeling the green paper thin blades springing against my skin. Wind in my hair. Cry of the wild. I miss being free.

SO what do I decide to do? My usual pattern is when i get bored, i resign or jump to another project/company. Astrology.com has warned me about this ... according to my free numerology profile:

"A deep inner restlessness and discontent with the status quo makes you seek out adventure, excitement, and the unconventional. You thrive on new ideas, change, travel, experimenting with new ways of doing things. Predictability and routine make you feel lifeless and unhappy so you must find a lifestyle that is varied enough to be mentally stimulating and challenging. Independent, freedom-loving, and easily bored, you have trouble making commitments and finishing projects. You often "move on" prematurely, whether in a personal relationship or in your work. You need to develop discipline and perseverance when you have an important goal.

You have many talents and need many outlets and avenues for their expression, but try to finish one thing before attempting the next."

I'll take the advice of finishing one thing before attempting the next. I have a lot of beginnings with no end, a lot of fan fiction stories I wrote that has yet to find an ending, a lot of books and files in my room I have yet to finish sorting, I always begin great ideas... I'm a "sparker," maybe I always expect someone to blow and spread my fire till it reaches the finishing line. Like that Mission Impossible TV series opening credits, there's a match, and a line thread that the flames eat out till it reaches the end.

I think blogger indeed is more user friendly than livejournal. Here is my blog at livejournal and see the difference in its format.

Why are Trees Taller than Me?

Miniscule. No matter how hard you try, no matter how many lives you had the unfortunate opportunity of ruining...you are nothing but an ant scurrying across the expanse of the universe.

The Creator made giants out of trees. Our pathetic skyscrapers are nothing in comparison to the magnificence of trees that will certainly outlast buildings, if we don't cut it, that is. I think the Supreme Being made trees taller than us humans for a good reason...so that we may look up, be in awe of its branches outstretched, like giant priestesses imploring to the skies to give them rain.

I'm not trying to make my race insignificant, i'm just trying to put things in perspective. I am but a speck in the horizon, and yet in some way I complete the tapestry of creation. The troubles that come in my life (though fortunately I can't think of one right now) are just tiny pinpricks in the design of the universe. If life was an embroidered mantle, it sure as hell will take time before I see it's meaning and pattern. Right now we might just feel the needles and threads piercing through, but it's just part of the process.

My blogging here has been woefuly few and far in between. I have three blogs now. One is the home to my written erotica and stories I'm too shy to admit I made, one is a treasure trove of my travels and travails, and this. Vanessarocks coz she does.

*Rock the boat, don't rock the boat honey*

see also www.livejournal.com/users/vanessa_writer

non dreams

ever get the feeling htat you have lain in your bed the whole night without really sleeping at all? i remember tossing and turning, thinking about the three year report im supposed to hand in, what chapters needs to be rewritten, people i need to call. so first thing in the morning, i barely notice the birds chirping on my windowsill, or the rice coffee in my mug, or the dry vienna sausage wrinkled as prunes you see in california if ever you been there.

so the purpose of this entry is to unclutter because i am as cluttered as the rumpled sheets after an invasion of boogie monsters meet cookie monsters and those creatures and that storybook where the wild things are.

i left my cellphone in the office drawer so last night i didnt even have the distraction of racket, sky diver, an a pubescent textmate i met online.

supposedly life is about relationships and people. im building a relationship with my computer considering the amount of time i spent in front of it. yes we are engaged. but im married to my books. i have an affair with my cellphone. letters written in paper are a forgotten acquiantance.

good morning world.

monday rebel

theres nothing more conforming than mondays. Mondays are silver handcuffs with key holes the size of a pin cushioned in your mouth. In willful disregard of the rush of feet towards offices and schools, I ploughed towards the opposite direction

while they run towards confined spaces of neat little cubicles, desks, chalk powder, xerox machine, computer monitors staring, i skated towrds couches that swallowed my butt and clutch a hot white mocha close to my nose. sniffing and sniffing.