Breeding Unicorns Since 1988

Climbing Mt. Damas in Tarlac

Sun, 02 Dec 2012 15:13:53 GMT

I am not even sure if I should still be up and writing this. My shoulders are sore, I am lightheaded, my eyes are refusing to stay open, and my legs are hurting anywhere you touch them.

...were the only sentences I was able to type before I fell asleep on Monday night. I was exhausted. Now, I have a cold, which is making it so hard to focus-- I am blowing my nose like an elephant every 2 seconds. I might also be getting a fever. If my mom would get to read this, I bet she would think, what the hell happened to her? Well, Mt. Damas happened.

As I have already mentioned in my previous post, I only get Sundays off from work and have taken the habit of doing something out of the ordinary on this special day. Last week, I took both Sunday and Saturday off-- all for the glory of Mt. Damas.

Two months ago, I was bored and lusting for adventure. I needed something unusual to happen, so when my friend asked if I wanted to go mountaineering, I did not hesitate. Aside from that spontaneous dayhike with my family in Taal Volcano 4 years ago, I had never actually climbed a mountain before. This budding obsession for trekking started in August; even before we started for Mt. Tarak's summit, I already knew I found something interesting enough to shake me from my then frustrating state of weariness. Mt. Tarak was the first mountain I officially climbed, but I will talk about it next week. Today, while my body is still sore, I will tell you a bit about the mountain that almost killed my spirit.

At around 6:30AM, our bus left from Cubao to Tarlac. Roughly 4 hours later, we found ourselves in Chowking in Brgy. Camiling for a nice rowdy lunch-- when about a dozen people all carrying heavy bags on their backs enter a restaurant, you would be wrong not to expect at least one interesting thing to happen. (What that is, I will leave to your imagination.)

I was not ready for this climb. I failed to read a single thing about Mt. Damas and only scanned our itinerary. All I knew was that it was going to be a major climb. Despite it being only half of Mt. Tarak's altitude, the climb was going to take as long-- this told me much about how difficult the trail would be.

From Camiling proper, tricycles took us to Brgy. Papaac, a ride which lasted for about 15 minutes via a golden road of rice grains being dried under the sun. The air was itchy and the dust from the rice grains made it hard to breathe-- but the scenery was beautiful. The silhouette of the mountains against the bright blue sky reminded me what we were journeying for.

Mt. Damas is approximately 665 MASL. The concrete ended and a stretch of dirt road began. I believe this is one of the most liberating things in any climb: when you set foot on an unpaved trail, and you know exactly why you're standing there, and where you're heading; you go on despite the knowledge that anything could happen along the way because the peak is waiting, and it is the reason you have turned your back on your familiar world for the next few hours of your lifetime.

Due to a quite silly reason, we decided not to hire a guide. The guide continued to badger us, telling us that the trail would be difficult and dangerous. But because we are young and fearless (and silly!), we ignored his warnings. He did try to lead us up to the Aeta settlement (which was the regular route) but we ran into two locals who told us about a detour that would take less than 2 hours to the peak! The guide told us (almost mocked us) that we were making the wrong decision because the alternate route had not been used for months. But he was starting to get a little annoying and he did look less trustworthy than the locals, so we decided to deviate.

I think the first 5 minutes into the trail should've been ominous enough. A thick stretch of tall thorny grasses welcomed us. I did not pay much attention to the time but we got lost for a good amount. When you're in the wilderness, the green trees are your walls, the brown soil is your floor, and the blue sky is your ceiling. Wherever you turn, every corner looks almost exactly alike. And if you're someone with a very poor sense of direction like myself, it would be easier to admit that you're in the middle of nowhere. But there are also things (which unsurprisingly require no effort to miss) that tell you which direction to go: the lonely tree to the left of the peak is the marker of Damas.

By the time we realized that we should've just followed the river, it was already starting to get dark. We couldn't find the pathway into the next mountain. Some left to look for a good place to camp, and the lot of us took our bags off our backs and sat by the riverbank. The pebbles felt hard under my feet and the river surged loudly down its path, but Ghregg fell asleep on a boulder with her face a feet from the water. We were all tired and dirty.

The Ubod Falls from ~~the middle of nowhere~~ afar

Everyone agreed to camp beside the Ubod Falls, which is by far the grandest waterfall I've seen in the wild. The Ubod Falls is approximately 100 feet tall with a small and shallow catch basin. Beside it was a patch of less rocky earth that was flat enough to set camp on.

River trekking

After setting camp, we started to get ready for dinner. And would you ever guess what we had? Pork stew with tamarind soup-- yes, of all things that can be prepared in the wilderness, we made Pork Sinigang. This group never fails to amaze me, I tell you. A wide mat was laid open and a lamp was lit in the middle of the camp: dinner was ready. Everyone brought something to share, and someone made sure that these nice bottles of gin and brandy were not forgotten. To make a long story short, we had a wonderful dinner under a moonlit sky with droplets from the waterfall peppering our faces. And with warmth from the alcohol and from everyone's laughter, the night air was made less cold.

I woke up at around 4 in the morning and was surprised to realize that I had no hangover despite drinking more than I could the previous night. I was inside the tent but could feel and see the moon illuminating everything outside. With my back still on the cold floor, I unzipped the tent's door to check who were awake and chatting, and how I wish then that everything would remain how they were: the sky was the perfect shade of dark blue with the most vivid map of the constellations. The waterfall continued to cry out with an almost deafening voice but nothing had ever made me feel calmer. I laid still for awhile to stare at the heavens. The rawness of it all was beautiful.

Camping beside Ubod Falls

We finished breaking camp at almost 8am. The plan was came noon and we still haven't found the trail to the summit, we would have to admit defeat and just try our luck the next time. Luckily, Ave found the trail with markers that could only mean we were going the right way. We trekked via the river; several minutes into the mountain and I (probably, all of us) realized that it was not going to be easy. It was steep and, as if the grasses were angry, they flicked at us and cut us. I took off my jacket but only ended up wearing it again when my arms started to sting. Again, we were tired and dirty but, this time, we were on the right track. The sun was so high up and it was starting to get really hot. I stopped several times to catch my breath. When I saw we were almost at the peak, there was nothing in the world I could've wanted more than to just stand on top of Damas.

The view from the top

The summit is a small patch of earth but wide enough for 14 tired mountaineers. We had wanted to be there early enough for the sea of clouds, which could only be witnessed early in the morning, but it was already time for lunch. I barely had energy to enjoy the landscape but one look at it was enough to convince me that it was worth the climb. To conclude our ascent, we had the most sumptuous boodle fight, which consisted of corned beef, adobong puti, and some leftover sinigang.

The view from the top

Just when I thought life has started to get boring again. :)

Today's lesson: STOP, BREATHE and REST, if that will help you get to the top.

(Started writing this about a month ago. Low-res photos taken with my smart phone.)

On Running My First 21k

Sun, 16 Sep 2012 14:51:13 GMT

Today was an early day. Not being able to fall asleep until midnight last night, I had to drag myself out of bed at 3.15am for my first 21k (13-mile) run.

A few weeks ago, I met a group of amusing adventure-seekers, when I went on an official climb (a major one at that with details I will talk about in my next post). During the climb, I found out that they were planning to run their first 21k in a month, so I decided to join them. I had been wanting to run a half-marathon since last year, I guess I just never found enough motivation to train for one or the right people to run it with, I subconsciously pushed the plan down my priority list.

It was mid-August and I only had a month to get ready. I had not been able to run much. Other than my short morning runs in the province during the early half of the year, I only joined two official 5k several months ago. I was not ready. I was anxious. I did not think I would be able to do it. And with my work schedule, I didn't get to train (if you can call it training) until less than 2 weeks ago.

I hate stopping when I run, it ruins my momentum, so I was not planning to stop in this 21k run. If I wanted to survive this race, I knew I had to work on my endurance. But considering that I no longer had enough time, I had to come up with a program that was both simple and realistic:

Day 1 - 30 minutes
Day 2 - 30 minutes
Day 3 - 30 minutes
Day 4 - 45 minutes
Day 5 - 45 minutes
Day 6 - 45 minutes
Day 7 - 45 minutes
Day 8 - 1 hour
Day 9 - 1 hour
Day 10 - Rest
Day 11 - Race Day

For 9 nights, I would change from my stilettos to my running shoes and run in the park nearest my workplace. It would be between 8pm and 10pm. On one night, I didn't get to leave the office until almost 11pm, without the moonlight, it would've been pitch black. But I didn't want to disappoint myself, so I stuck to my training plan.

I started with only 30 minutes because I haven't had enough mileage this year and didn't want to shock my legs and knees. Initially, I planned 3 days of each, but I had an extremely tiring workday on Day 7 so I just did 45 minutes.

During the race, my pace was generally slow and steady, but I did fast 5-minute runs after every 30 minutes. It took me 2 hours and 57 minutes (based on gun start, official results will be released on Wednesday) but I never stopped.

I never really thought I would survive unscathed. Haha. XD I didn't care how long it would take me, I only wanted to make sure I would not stop. And I did it! I endured almost 3 hours of running without stopping. And this just adds to my amazement-- how incredibly reliable and resilient the human body is! I had never ran for more than 2 hours straight prior to this race, but today I ran for almost 3 hours, and I was not even as tired as I had expected.

With Ave aka Coach Rio Jr. :p
(will upload more pictures when I get copies from a friend)

It was raining the whole time, which also probably helped. It would've been more difficult had it been hot and humid. I will forever be indebted to Blondie and their musical talent. xD The Tide is High and Die Young, Stay Pretty will always be my top power songs (I know, unexpected, but the beat helps me get back to my rhythm).

I am doing a 10k on the 30th, planning at least 2 more 10k and a 16k starting next month and before I do another 21k by late November or early December. And, this time, I have to make sure I train properly.

The past month had been unbelievable. And I think I am ready to take a break for a few days. With only Sunday being my day off from work, it had felt like I had been running behind on so many things in life, so I have tried to push myself to the limits and, I am happy to say that I had succeeded in pushing my limits even farther. I have so much to tell and document on this blog, and it's frustrating that I have not been able to write-- but I will try to make some time for it. After all, it is not about not having enough time, it is about making time.

And, oh, I got my ears pierced last month. And what is even more surprising is I have worn these earrings for more than 3 weeks. Embarrassingly, I had this abnormal fear of piercings and earrings. Reason why I never attempted to get piercings until I was 18 years old (and only to take them off after 3 days while bawling like a 3-year old, who scraped her knee).

I know, disgusting hair, this was after a run

This year, I am 24 and I think I might be over the fear. :)

Today's lesson: Push yourself beyond your limits. You'll be surprised at what you can do.

UPDATE:

I knew there was something wrong with the RU3 21k LED timer-- it was 30 minutes late. XD The official results are out!

Ranked 643rd out of 2414 runners. But what I'm really happy about is that I finished within my target time, which was 2 hours and 30 minutes. :) Looking forward to my 2nd 21k! :D

A Summer in Colorado

Tue, 07 Aug 2012 08:37:56 GMT

It was May 2011, I was finishing the first part of my training in the United States and was itching to get away. My sister had been inviting me to visit her, and my niece's 1st birthday was also approaching. It would be the perfect escape after 5 stressful months, and the perfect prelude to a whole new level of exasperation. I decided it was time; before the month ended, I had a flight booked to Colorado.

Denver is less than 3 hours from Indianapolis, it was not going to be a very long flight but it was going to be my first time flying solo. The idea of traveling by myself in a foreign country was enough to excite me like a 3-year-old having her first taste of strawberry ice cream. At 5.30am (EST) on June 10th, I hopped on a plane bound for Denver while chewing on a fistful of sour gummi worms.

Spencer, my sister's husband, picked me up at Denver International Airport. Some 30 minutes after arriving, I cradled happiness in my arms when I met my first ever niece for the first time. Yana's face was round as an orange, her nose cute as a pumpkin, and her big bewildered eyes told me just what I needed to know-- that this trip was exactly what needed to happen in my life.

I don't think I ever really took anything seriously out of traveling until that one moment in Colorado, when I found myself standing in front of a huge hill in Rocky Mountain National Park. My eyes followed a raptor gliding in the sky and three elks grazing at the foot of that hill. It was a sight so simple and serene, and it could have been nothing else but a hill, yet it was then when I felt one of the strongest emotional tugs in my life.

This and more, I thought to myself

I don't remember how long the drive was, but I do remember feeling sick from it. Piece of advice, do not mess with altitude-- it is not a good idea to drive to 12,000 feet above sea level after a recent 3-hour flight. But then, if it is for something this beautiful, perhaps you might reconsider.

It was summer yet almost everything was white, and the ice refused to melt despite the sun's warm rays. Huge walls of ice towered high above us, it was an overwhelming sight from atop the world. I could've spent the whole afternoon watching the mountains' peaks trying to reach out to the clouds above them.

Since Colorado is a land-locked state and I was told that we were going to a beach, I didn't expect it to be that great. But lo and behold, Aurora Reservoir is one of the most picturesque beach parks and places I've ever been to.

It is one of those places that makes it easy to revisit good memories; a place where everyone can naturally become levelheaded, relaxed, and contented.

Aurora Reservoir is a man-made facility with over 800 acres of water surface. Children covered in sunscreen waded in the water, and red and blue coolers were scattered everywhere; while Indiana was wet, it was truly summer in Colorado.

For something more exciting than simply lying down to get a tan, Water World in Denver is another great respite from the summer heat. I don't exactly remember how many we took, but the park offers a bunch of thrilling rides. There are also Family Rides, where even toddlers are allowed. When we took the Voyage to the Center of the Earth, Yana ended up peeing in her little swimsuit. With my screaming and laughing in that dark tunnel, I'm sure I scared her more than the phony roaring dinosaurs did.

Today's lesson: Go see places.

Chugging Down the Tracks: PNR Bicol Express

Mon, 25 Jun 2012 13:06:14 GMT

I decided to go home via the railways for a family event on the 28th. I had never taken the train outside the metropolis before so I was very excited about this trip. The Philippine National Railways' (PNR) final stop in Bicol is Naga City, which is about 4 hours from my hometown. I could have saved myself the time and energy had I traveled by bus or plane, but my audacious self got the better of me.

PNR has two kinds of train services to and fro Bicol, these are the Mayon Limited and Bicol Express. The Mayon Limited offers De Luxe with an Executive Lounge and Ordinary (non-air conditioned) accommodations. But for a 10-hour trip, people who value comfort in traveling may opt for Bicol Express' reclining seats or sleeper coaches.

Reservations are supposed to be made 2 weeks before departure, and you should pay and claim tickets 2 days prior to the reserved date. But, naturally, they can't afford to turn away paying customers during the lean season. I called on the 15th to make a reservation for a family sleeper coach (P665.00 or ~US$15.58) on the 26th. A few days after I made that phone call, I found out that I could go home earlier than I thought. So I made a visit to the Tutuban station on the 20th to pay and have my reservation moved to the 23rd. As long as there are seats and bunks available, they will most likely accommodate you. But don't risk it if you can make your travel plans early, early is always better. Just when I thought they did not have enough passengers, the train was almost full when we made a stop in Lucena.

I filled my backpack with a week's worth of clothes and left Taguig at around 3pm. I took a jeepney via the C5 road to MRT's Guadalupe station, then transferred to LRT-1 in Taft. From LRT-1's U.N. Avenue Station, I took a jeepney to Divisoria. I got off in front of the Binondo Church and took a pedicab to PNR in Tutuban. Now, I could have boarded PNR in Pasay, but I forgot to ask whether I was allowed to do that and I just thought it would be more interesting en route Divisoria.

Self-proclaimed lover boy on the loose

It is never safe to take out your camera in Tondo and Binondo (especially if you are female and alone), but the street scenes can be very tempting. So while the pedicab skidded through the metro's traffic, I held onto my camera and took some snapshots.

Filipino and Chinese children playing in the streets

From Taguig all the way to Binondo, it only cost me P50.00 (~US$1.17). There might be a more efficient and cheaper option than the pedicab from Binondo Church, but I am not very familiar with the area. The first Manong I talked to charged P80.00 (~US$1.87), then I found another Manong just 20 feet away who only asked for P50.00, I haggled a bit more and we finally agreed on P40.00 (93¢). I could have hammered out an even lower price, but we all have to live and let live.

I arrived in PNR a few minutes past 5pm, my train was not scheduled to leave until 6.30pm. I went to the canteen for some ensaimada and juice to tame my growling tummy. After snacking, I went to the information desk to ask whether taking pictures of the station and trains was allowed. I wanted to make sure since, a couple of months ago, when my friends and I took the old train to Buendia, big cameras (DSLRs) were not allowed to be used in the premises. When we asked the guards why, they only said the photographers were selling the pictures-- why that is a bad thing, I really can't understand. So when we started boarding at 6pm, I used my phone to take a picture of the train which, by the way, is also prohibited. Haha. XD You may not take a picture of the train at all. You can, however, take pictures inside it.

My bunk was in the first car. Luckily, I was given a lower bunk. When I got to the cabin, two of the staff were lounging in it. Both smiled sheepishly and one of them left. But the other one, Kuya, stayed and started a conversation with me, which was fine because I wanted to learn more about the train's amenities anyway. Each car contains separate cabins, I did not exactly count but it could be between 8 and 10, and each cabin has 2 upper and 2 lower bunks. The bunks are fashioned with curtains that can be drawn out to give yourself some privacy, and a personal lamp that is very suitable for reading. It is very spacious and the beds have good cushioning. The only thing I didn't like about my little space was the upholstery. I do not like velvet in public spaces; it did not look very clean, even the curtains looked a little grimy. If you are a germaphobe, this may not be a good traveling option, but we all have to accept the consequences of riding a public vehicle. So that night, I had to take out two of of my clean shirts to spread over the bed. Had I known that clean blankets and pillows were not provided, I would have at least brought a sarong, lesson learned.

A cabin takes about two-thirds of the train's width. The remaining third is the hallway. The walls have large opaque windows protected by steel screens, which make it impossible to enjoy the scenery, but they are a necessity. In most cases, they keep a passenger's skull in one piece. Informal settlers have plagued the railways for a long time. They like to throw things at passing trains-- rocks, urine, even feces, and probably anything they could get their hands on. :/ I do not remember how many times I got startled by a loud thud that night. So if you do not like crap on your cheek, you might want to reconsider taking the non-air conditioned service.

Since only curtains separate passengers, I was a little concerned about the security. But I was assured that no cases of stealing have ever been reported and two resident policemen rove at night. I spent half of the night talking to Kuya and the other half trying to get comfortable. I tried reading but the lights kept flickering, I later learned that they were having problems with the generator set, which meant the A/C was also malfunctioning though I barely felt the fluctuation. The temperature seemed just right but I did hear my neighbor cursing the cold from behind his curtains. I might not be the right person to ask because I happen to like cold. So, just in case, you might want to bring a coat or a jacket.

Each car has a wash area and a restroom. Surprisingly, they have hot water! But trust me when I say it is almost impossible to wash your face in a moving train. The restroom looked old but clean enough and, as expected, they did not have any toilet paper. Just a friendly advice, if you decide to take a trip around the Philippines, always make sure you have toilet paper at hand. It's hard enough to find a clean public restroom here, much more a public restroom with toilet paper.

The open window in the control room

Since I had voiced out my sentiment to Kuya regarding the opaque windows, he promised to take me to the end of the car the next morning so I could enjoy a view of the countryside. Unfortunately, it was not what I expected, you know like in those European movies where trains have viewing decks and you could watch the trees and mountains run past you? Well, not that. Instead, he took me to the cramped control room, where the glass window can be pulled down. But he also allowed me to stand beside an open door so I could take some pictures.

Announcements are made in the control room

Rice fields in Bicol

We arrived in Naga City a few minutes past 6am. Trains share tracks, and they usually stop to give way to another. So depending on how often your train stops, the trip will take 10-12 hours. From Naga, I still had a long way to go. I took a tricycle to the bus terminal. The tricycle driver tried to hustle me by asking for P20.00 but I only gave him P10.00 (~23¢). The (air conditioned) bus fare from Naga to Legazpi is P110.00 (~US$2.58). And from Legazpi, I took a van to Sorsogon for P85.00 (~US$1.99), then transferred to a jeepney bound for Gubat for P15.00 (~35¢). When I arrived, Ashley stared at me for about 3 seconds before running towards me barking like crazy.

Bicol Express parked in Naga

Click here for schedules and fares. Visit the PNR website for more information.

Today's lesson: This one is more practical, bring a sarong when traveling.

Camiguin Island

Sun, 17 Jun 2012 05:02:47 GMT

I thought maybe I should take a break from reviewing (don't even ask) and write about our last two days in Mindanao. Before you read the rest of the entry, I suggest you go through the first two of this series: Cagayan de Oro & Bukidnon and Iligan City.

The day after our brief affair with Tinago Falls, we woke up at almost 6am to get ready for our trip to Camiguin Island. The island is off the coast of Northern Mindanao. It is made up of 5 municipalities and also happens to be the country's 2nd smallest island after Batanes. We had planned an overnight stay but had not made any reservations for board, lodging, and transportation. From Cagayan de Oro, we took an airconditioned bus to the municipality of Balingoan, which took 2 hours. Balingoan is the main port for ferries going to Camiguin, and it also takes about 2 hours to reach the island.

When we got off the barge, we saw a banner that read "Tourist Information Center" but, to our disappointment, nobody was there. Then, a group of locals started huddling around us, offering two possible options to tour the island. It was going to be either via a multi-cab (in a nutshell, it is a hybrid of a van and a jeepney) or a pair of motorcycles. After much haggling, we finally decided on the multi-cab, which went for Php1,500.00 (~US$35.00) for 8hrs, a hundred pesos more expensive than the motorcycles but a lot more safe and convenient.

It was already almost noon when left the port, so we asked our guide, Mang Gerry, to make a stop at an inexpensive place to eat. Somewhere in Guinsilaban or Mahinog, we got off to have lunch at a carinderia. We had a whole barbecued chicken, two different fish viands, and a vegetable dish, all for P250.00 (~US$6.00).

Our first stop was Katibawasan Falls. After Tinago and Maria Cristina in Iligan, Katibawasan was not much of a stunner. Then, considering that we are from Bicol and have grown up with regular visits to different spring resorts, Ardent Hot Spring did not make the grandest impression. Though finding out that the several pools have varying temperatures was quite interesting, it also had a more appealing landscape than the spring resorts in our province. The third attraction was the Stations of the Cross, which is more than an hour hike up Mt. Vulcan on a paved staircase so, obviously, we skipped it.

The two most intriguing sites we visited that day were the Sunken Cemetery and Guiob Church Ruins. The Sunken Cemetery became part of the Bohol Sea when Mt. Vulcan erupted in the 1870's, a large cross was erected as a marker of the burial ground that was swallowed by the water. It is a place for the deceased, and this obvious fact adds to the enchantment of this uncanny attraction.

The Guiob Church Ruins is an ancient site from the 16th century. Similar to the Sunken Cemetery, the church was also destroyed by Mt. Vulcan. But due to the sturdiness of the coral stones that make up its walls, the ruins continue to fascinate tourists up to this day. And it was in the grassy yard of the old church that we decided to reminisce our childhood and play luksong-tinik.

On our way out, we ran into two fellow travelers whom we rafted with in CDO. Coincidentally, we also saw them in both waterfalls in Iligan the previous day. We ended up staying at the same inexpensive inn as they were that night thanks to their suggestion; Pabua's in Mambajao was P400.00 cheaper than the first accommodation we looked into, it came for P900.00 (~US$21.00), that's as cheap as it can get for a room big enough for 4 people . We made a final stop at Sto. Niño Cold Spring in Catarman. It is a vast pool of fresh, clear, and ice cold spring water that gets as deep as 8ft. Perfect to take a dip in after touring around the island for several hot hours.

We decided to have dinner at Luna Ristorante, a fancy Italian restaurant a few blocks from Pabua's. It was clearly out of the budget but we wanted to have a good time. We ordered a garden salad with tuna, a spicy pizza, and penne al fume. The food was surprisingly good for a place so far away from the main island. The servers were as friendly as a Filipino can get, but they were just a little too slow. In fact, too slow that I didn't get my glass of water until I almost finished my meal. My frozen mango margarita was not served with smoothly blended ice, but Dianne's piña colada came out just right.

The next morning, we woke up before dawn as we had scheduled a boat to take us to White Island at 5am. The morning air was still and somewhat chilly, but the sky was clear and it was looking like a perfect day to visit the beach. The shore was only behind the houses across Pabua's. I took several photos of the rising sun before we went into the boat.

A few minutes after we left the shore, it started to drizzle and the next thing we knew, giant drops of rain were pouring from the sky! I realized I was not carrying a waterproof case for my dSLR camera and phone. The wind had become colder and stronger. The boat's engine suddenly died and, for a few minutes, we were stranded in what looked like the the middle of nowhere. We could see the faintest white sand which told us we were getting close to our destination, but I was terrified. My gadgets could go berserk and our boat could capsize. Sure, we were wearing life vests but what of the unknown water and unending rain?! The engine growled back to life, the boatman told us not to be scared but I'm pretty sure what he really wanted to say then was shut the hell up! Haha. xD While Begs and Jocelle were as calm as sloths in a tree, Dianne and I were already panicking and were wanting to turn back. By the time we reached the island, or what could be seen of it, the sky had turned darker. The horizon was a heavy gray confirming that the rain was not going to stop anytime soon. We turned back without even leaving the boat. As we made our way back through what felt like a storm, all I could honestly think of was the feeling of dry land under my feet.

Thinking about it now, I feel stupid and weak. What was I so worried about? Drowning? Getting bitten by a shark? My friends and I never seeing each other again? Never seeing my dog and nieces again? My camera? All these silly things looping in my head, but I failed to come up with one favorable thought. That is, to turn that growing fear into excitement. So do remind me that the next time I find myself in a stormy sea, I have to at least try to shut up and enjoy the ride! XD

After showering and changing, we went back to Luna for some breakfast. Jocelle had a tomato and mozzarella omelet, while the rest of us had corned beef, eggs, and rice.

The rain started to heavily pour again. It was only 9am and we were not expecting Mang Gerry to pick us up until 9.30am, so we decided to wait. We were the only people in the restaurant except for an Italian man whom we assumed to be the owner. And as if proving itself, the weather is still the most classic conversation starter. We forgot to ask his name but found out that he has been living in the Philippines before we were even born. As per Jocelle's request, he translated and spoke some Italian for us. The downpour did not stop so we found ourselves running back to Pabua's. We did not get to leave the island until noon. And as our bus drove past the dense Mindanao forests, I found myself agreeing: "Le Filippine sono bello un paese," the Italian said. The Philippines is a beautiful country.

(And if that Italian sentence is not right, please feel free to correct me. Haha. XD I am simply relying on memory and Google translate. XDDD)

P.S. Yes, as you have already probably predicted, we were late for our flight back to Manila. Luckily, the plane was an hour delayed.

Today's lesson: Just enjoy the freaking ride.

Iligan City - Maria Cristina & Tinago Falls

Sat, 16 Jun 2012 04:04:25 GMT

This is the second entry about the recent trip I made to Mindanao. To read the first part, click here.

On our second day, we took the bus to Iligan City. The road from Cagayan de Oro boasts an array of plantations, which is evidence of the region's thriving economy. At around 1pm, after visiting Ate Yam's family, we drove to Maria Cristina Falls, which are, by far, the most enormous falls I have ever seen in my life. Water droplets peppered our faces from more than 100m away. The falls themselves are more than 300m high; it was an incredible sight, and I will let the view speak for itself:

Our next stop was Tinago Falls. The word tinago translates to hidden in English, which it literally is. It is more or less 30 minutes from Iligan City and is deep in the forests of Lanao del Norte. We had to go down a stone staircase consisting of almost 500 steps. But what we saw at the end of the winding stairs was worth every sigh of exhaustion. A huge and proud wall of rocks, half of it covered with vegetation, the lower half crying with the clearest of waters. And to add some more to my amazement, a rainbow greeted us with colors that gleamed against the black rocks and white flowing water. The scene could not have been more beautiful.

Five minutes in the cold turquoise water and I already thought of staying there forever. Basically nobody was allowed to go in without a life vest unless, of course, you have fins or could swim like a dolphin; the basin is more than 60ft deep. :| For P10.00 (23 cents) each, a bamboo raft was available to transport tourists to the surge of cascading water. It was something I had never experienced before, we started turning red from the pounding of the water and, boy, did it hurt but it was exhilarating! We could barely open our eyes nor tilt our head up. After less than a minute under the stream, the guide told us to jump off the raft and explore-- so we did.

We originally planned to visit three more resorts that day but since it was already after 3pm, we decided against it. Instead, we spent the rest of the afternoon jumping off from the walls of Tinago and screaming, "LIFE IS GOOD!" and "I LOVE MY LIFE!" The rocks were not as slippery as they looked but we did have to watch every step we took since the crags were narrow and one wrong move could have sent us tumbling like Jack and Jill down a rugged hill.

Our guides took us to every precipice we could possibly climb. Behind the gurgling water and into hidden caves and pools. At one point, we went under a rock, which was 10ft up the wall, it was dark and cramped and you could see and hear nothing outside except for the rush of water, only our heads were visible in that little space. It was the first time I actually felt claustrophobic in my life.

And what came to me when I decided to climb more than 30ft, I do not remember. Maybe I was thinking, I might never have the chance to do this again. So I let the guides tell me where to put my feet and which rocks to grab. I had no safety harness and could have easily slipped or fallen unconscious so I avoided looking down. It was a scary way up and when I reached the jumping point, my first thought was, WHAT THE F-CK AM I DOING UP HERE?!

It took me a couple of minutes to muster all the courage I had in my being. My knees turned weak and I began to literally shake. But it was safer to drop than to climb back down, so I bent my knees, pinched my nose, and jumped butt first into the water. Unlike our earlier plunges, the impact was not immediate, I was given a minute to anticipate my fall and think about my life. :|

But the best part could have only been when our guide told us to look up after our first jump. And what I saw then could only be called bliss. For one precious moment, life was perfect. The sky was a soft blue, the vines were a bright green, the water was white and it fell from the river without inhibitions, and as the tiny beads gently rained down our faces, I thought to myself, this is how life is supposed to be.

Next entry, Camiguin Island.

Today's lesson: Jump.

Update: This entry has been published on IliganLocal.com. Click here to view the article.

Cagayan de Oro & Bukidnon

Fri, 15 Jun 2012 17:38:53 GMT

Is it not ironic that I have lived and worked in the United States twice before I had the chance to visit the other islands in my country?

Early Saturday morning of last week, Begs, Dianne, Jocelle, and I boarded the first plane to Cagayan de Oro (CDO). And, yes, staying true to our track records, the aircraft almost left without us. It was, however, one of the most thrilling experiences I have recently had-- that is, arriving 15 minutes before our plane was about to leave and with 60 people in line ahead of us. To cut the story short, we barely went through airport security and were the last people to board the plane.

CDO is the capital of Misamis Oriental and lies along the coastline of Northern Mindanao. Usually, when tourists hear the word Mindanao, the first picture that comes to mind is of a man with a scarf around his head carrying an AK-47. Now, yes, that is quite an alarming mental image. The government's efforts against terrorism has not gone unnoticed nor has it alleviated the situation. But terrorists are almost always only in Mindanao, more specifically, in the south of the island. In fact, while I was there, I saw no traces of rebellion whatsoever, CDO is an especially flourishing city.

We planned or, well, the ever-so-diligent Begs planned a 4-day trip. XD It was a long itinerary, and our first stop was Bukidnon, less than 2 hours from CDO. Ate Yam, Begs' sister-in-law, picked us up from the airport. At 7am, after a hearty breakfast, we took a cab from her home to CDO's Divisoria, where we met with the person we hired to drive us to Dahilayan Adventure Park. More than an hour into our trip, we passed by Del Monte's hectares after hectares (after hectares!) of pineapples, corns, and whatnots.

Dahilayan Park is literally out of the ordinary Philippines. It is one of those places that makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, almost similar to how I felt when I went up Utah's Park City. The mountains of pine trees looked majestic, the rest of the flora were almost unfamiliar, and the sun was high and bright yet its rays did not burn so much.

It is in Dahilayan Park where the longest dual zip line in Asia can be found. We have also been told that a longer zip line has recently been put up in a nearby region, if it's dual or not, I'm not quite sure. We availed of the all-rides package, which consisted of 3 different lines. The first two were 320m and 150m in a sitting position. For the final and longest ride, a Safari Cruiser took us to 4500ft above sea level, and we dangled and swept through a beautiful view of the the vast park. For a minute, my breath was taken away, I was flying atop an astonishing panorama.

After Dahilayan Park, we headed back to CDO for lunch at Brew Berry. Dianne and I had fish with tawsi (a kind of salted black beans) and the rest of the group had a beef dish. For dessert, we ordered the cafe's best-selling blueberry cheesecake, it was good but was a little bland for my taste. After our meal, we were picked up by a jeepney for Rafting Adventure Philippines to take us to the starting point of our white water rafting course! What commenced after that was truly unusual and exciting. I had never rafted before so you can just imagine how anxious I was. We were very surprised to find out that it was going to take 3 hours but, hey, it was value for our money. So we smothered ourselves with sunscreen and bought a large bottle of water. My words will probably fail to express how incredible the experience was. The rapids were fierce yet there were also moments of monotony when the water was still, but when you are with your friends, you find ways to amuse yourselves. We have vowed to take the extreme course on our next visit.

I will write about the rest of our trip tomorrow.

Update. If you liked this entry, you may also want to read about the other places we visited during our 4 days in Mindanao: Iligan City and Camiguin Island.

Today's lesson: Seek something unfamiliar and let it astonish you.

On Selfishness, Fear, and Control

Sat, 12 May 2012 07:11:48 GMT

It was a busy day at the restaurant. The place was packed and the kitchen could not keep up; a weekend scene with 5-year-olds at the zoo could have looked more serene. And it was my lucky day, I just had to have the biggest table with the most important people.

"Right now, I don't care whose fault it was. I just want to get the problem fixed," was what my manager said when I asked him if it was my fault. I wanted to face the wall and bash my head on it from shame. That was already more than a year ago, but I could still remember how embarrassed I was for asking the worst question that could possibly be raised. I had to make sure I was not going to be accountable despite the fact that when I was worrying about my credibility, other things mattered more. It was like a scene from a movie, the whole world slowed down when I realized this, and a cold gust of wind blew across my face to signal me that I had to get started on fixing the problem.

Everyone clings to a certain degree of selfishness. It is primeval, a survival instinct. The process of evolution would collapse if species did not desire to be preserved. Therefore, shouldn't harboring selfishness be a good thing? Not so much. Unfortunately, unlike the rest of the animal kingdom, humans have been creating the most complex varieties of relationships and societies possible. We think more than necessary, beyond our need for basic survival. Even we classify ourselves as Homo sapiens, a taxonomy which translates to wise man in the English language. One look at Maslow's pyramid will tell you that while most species are only driven to secure the first two (sometimes, three) levels, humans hanker for something more.

Maslow's Heirarchy of Needs
(image from Wikipedia)

We belong to an organized group that is based on shared written and unwritten rules, and each of us are expected to behave in such a way that we benefit the existence of the rest of our species. Though there are other social animals, we are several notches above them in this concept. Because, unlike them, we think too much.

When I asked my manager that question, I had several things going on in my mind. I had to make sure it was not my fault-- because I wanted to assure myself that I did nothing to disappoint both my guests and my superiors, because I wanted to assure myself that I have not done anything stupid enough to find myself jobless the next day, and, simply, to assure myself that I have not done anything stupid. I was so worried about myself that I did not even realize how inappropriate my question was for the moment. Selfishness comes in so many forms that we hardly even recognize it. Simply put, I did not even realize that what I was doing was already selfishness in itself. I was thinking too much about myself, which brings us to how our ability to think can be as detrimental as it can be beneficial.

We have established the reality that people can become selfish because of self-preservation. We desire things so we could create the ideal future for ourselves (and also for those individuals that we care deeply enough about). Desire is good because we need to survive, but when this goes over the top, desire turns to greed. Then, we start to defeat the purpose of selfishness for the survival of the rest of our kind. Greed means acquiring more than what is necessary. More of money, more of food and water, more of power, more of attention, and less for everyone else. But why does this happen? How can a person turn so selfish? People become greedy because they fear the future. (Ah, fear, the cause of all things vile on this planet.) A man wants more so he could have security of wealth and emotions-- to assure himself that he will not starve and be unhappy, and to assure himself that he has enough control to earn the respect of society. A person fears because he thinks and makes himself believe that nothing is obvious enough so he could have faith in future certainties-- that is, he thinks too much and, sometimes, too ahead.

But because we are thinking animals, we also have the ability to tame our minds at our own disposal, i.e. we can become the master of ourselves if we decide to. So here is how you get over that fear. At one point in your life, you will have to admit to yourself that you spend too much time dwelling on the bad things. Accept this. Accept that you dwell, that you think too much, that your thoughts drive your decisions. And that is exactly how you overcome your fear. Fear is an emotion (in fact, fear, hate, anger, love, and every thing else), emotions are thoughts, and those thoughts are in your head, thoughts that you own and thoughts that you have perfect control over.

Control your thoughts, and you control your fears.

One hot summer day in UP Diliman.

I will probably be posting a gazillion pictures in the following weeks to reminisce my travel escapades in the past couple of months. I feel like I have not written enough about what I have been up to. This journal is supposed to be a documentation of my life, after all.

Today's lesson: Take control.

Decisions, Decisions

Sat, 21 Apr 2012 11:57:23 GMT

I took out a pair of jeans from my duffel bag, but I was torn between a blue plaid button up and a thin white t-shirt. It was 90° outside. Well, I could always fold the sleeves up, I told myself. I took down my bath towel from the hanger and was about to get into the shower room when I heard Julia Roberts speak from the television. Eat, Pray, Love. I saw that movie about 2 years ago. Maybe I should watch it again. So I went back to the couch and sat down.

Our lives undergo changes, big and small, and the most dramatic and remarkable ones are usually those that we least expect— as cliché as that may sound, it cannot get any truer. Last year, I set out to an unfamiliar place hoping I could firmly grasp my hands around two things: work experience and money. And for the first few months, that was how it went, but a couple more later, I found something that completely caught me by surprise.

Assuming that you have actually read my previous entries, you know how contemptible I was 8 months ago. For days, I was in an awful state. I guess ruined would be the perfect word for it, as how Robert’s character (in Eat, Pray, Love) aptly put it. It was a period of despair, sadness, guilt, remorse, loneliness, hate, and every other negativity imaginable. Waking up in the morning, curled up in my airbed, staring at a ceiling so white (you would think it would drown you in its blankness)— all I wanted to do then was feel sorry for myself, dwell in my misery, and find someone else to blame for my inability to be happy. But for some reason, I decided to fight. I threw away every memento that heightened my sorrow and decided to start anew with only one thing: my decision to be happy. So I started smiling at the world, and despite not expecting it to smile back, it did. And it did so with such sincerity that I started seeing happiness everywhere I went.

Putting yourself in a different environment will not guarantee life-changing experiences. In fact, being foreign could be the worst thing that could happen to you if you let it. When things change our lives (for better or for worse), it is only when we allow it. Because, whether we admit it or not, we almost always have the choice to take full control and responsibility of how places, events, and people will shape us. Every day, we make decisions that navigate us through a mindboggling maze to survival. Though, sometimes, we pass by a time in our lives when we stop choosing and we settle down for something good enough. But when we become complacent, this is when we start to betray ourselves. When you let despondence blanket your ability to make decisions, you let go of the decision to be happy. You stop deciding. And you stop taking control.

Fear is a strong and confusing emotion. We should not fail to recognize its strength because, after all, knowing our set of fears is key to understanding ourselves. What am I afraid of? Why am I afraid? But then recognition and acknowledgement can be two entirely different things. Too much acknowledgement can become submission, and submission to fear is as desirable as slipping on a banana peel and landing face down on a little mound of dog poop. Fear, if you let it, will drive you down into abysmal despair. You could let it feed you with unhappy thoughts, caress you with uncertainties, and tuck you in for a night of bad dreams. But you could also fight it— flail your arms against it, kick it, scratch it, and chase it away like a mad child. But I guess it is not always as easy as it sounds. After all, it is a lot more convenient to be friends than be in a brawl with fear. But, you see, if you truly intend to be happy, you must make a commitment.

Fear keeps us from making decisions because we are afraid to see what is in store for us. Our knees go weak when we envision the possibility of something worse. Our alarm goes off when we encounter something unpleasant and unfamiliar, then we lose control, letting fear encapsulate our being and giving it the authority to send us into a whirlwind of tribulations. And that is exactly how you become unhappy. By losing control.

Two things influence how we perceive the world: our thoughts and emotions. For most people, these two are as fragile as paper, it can be easily torn and you can end up with only bits and pieces of what was once whole; as delicate as a snowflake, the faintest sigh can melt it into nothingness. Depending on how we process our thoughts and emotions, we can be the happiest or unhappiest person alive. And if you are serious about seeing the world in a new light…well, that is exactly what you should do: see the world in a new light.

Accepting the responsibility of being in control changes everything. You have to allow yourself to bask in the sunny side of life. I will let you in on a little secret, these two trite remarks have helped me more than a whole shelf of self-help books ever will: shit happens and look at the bright side. Negative thoughts constantly flow in the mind and drowning in it is fairly easy, one depressing image can lead to another— the best way to not get caught up in this unnerving stream is to get distracted with thoughts of a more positive nature. You were in an accident, and your car was totaled. Cheer up, at least you can still worry about your car, that means you're still alive. Do not ever cover up the truth that anything— everything— has a brighter side. How you deal with your thoughts manifests in your emotions and behavior. Therefore, your thoughts define who you are. Thinking happy is feeling happy, and if you think and feel happy, then you are happy.

I tricked myself into thinking that my room was not as lonely as I thought it was. I started going out, something I never allowed myself to enjoy in the months prior to that period of my newly found awareness. You need to learn how to make yourself believe that you are happy— over and over again, as the saying goes, practice makes perfect. Eventually, I found this bottomless stash of hugs for everyone and gave away smiles like a mad woman. At one point, I began to feel like I was overdoing it but I did not stop. I thought to myself, I might as well be thought of as crazy while trying to "not" be crazy than be "really" crazy. What did I end up with? A bunch of people and memories I never thought I would find and need in my life. I found people who allowed me to hug them everyday, and who hugged me back with the same sincerity, not caring what kind of a person I was before, where I have been, and whom I have cared for and hated in the past. The fact is... they were just people, who had no extraordinary ability to magically cure a broken and hateful heart. I realized then that, yes, they were indeed a special bunch and I needed to be taught how to have fun again, but I also needed to find it in me the willingness to have fun again, and I had to make that decision fast.

So I let go of the fear of the uncertain and what-ifs and started living then and there with the reality that shit happens and that all I can do now is look at the brighter side of things. I am far from being the Yoda of happiness. In fact, sometimes, I still find it easier to give into hate and anger. But I have had a taste of what happiness is like if I let go of all that hostility, and it is a feeling I want to constantly surround my heart with— immerse my whole body in— for the rest of my life, it is warm and cool, it is interesting, it keeps me grounded, it is that refreshing cold water after an hour under the scorching hot sun, it is that flavor you want to relish when you sink your teeth into the softness of a freshly baked pretzel roll smeared with salted butter, it is that relief you get when you sit in an upholstered velvet recliner after a hard day's work, and it is that fuzzy feeling you want to savor when you climb into the soft coolness of a freshly made bed.

This is Chanel, my cousin's 1-year-old.
She is happy, the happiest person I have met in a while. :)

Today's lesson: Decide.

Move Forward

Wed, 21 Mar 2012 14:18:30 GMT

Every person has a fear. Of heights, of needles, of spiders, of the dark, of elevators-- the list goes on, but there are fears that are worse than others, those that manipulate a peron's way of life.

I recently had a conversation with a friend who admits her fear of growing old alone and unloved. It sprang from a topic that was so typical it was almost mundane: sibling rivalry. I say this is mundane because I come from a family that is very much prone to hypocrisy and self-righteousness (nevertheless, they are family), but this tale of family feud is another banana.

Blogs with overflowing teenage angst that proliferate on the World Wide Web are proof enough of the world's increasing population of the estranged. Teenagers who are unable to find their place in their homes are driven to depend on their friends and/or lovers to fulfill the need for emotional attachment. (Been there, done that.) But when you have gone past the age of adolescence and you still seek the approval of others for self-fulfillment, then it becomes less pathetic but more real and more scary. Wisdom grows directly proportional to age, but truth be told, a third variable sometimes forces itself to grow with the other two: indolence, which inverses the first equation. For the group of people who holds on to this longer formula, day by day, their tendency to settle becomes stronger.

My friend claims she is a little too plump and a little to short than the average lady, she fears she will never find another person who would love her for the way she is. Therefore, she is settling for what is possibly the mediocre choice. Her words translate to insecurity, doubt, and low self-esteem. But I do not believe that she actually has enough reason for these uncertainties. Regardless of the kind of slump we are in, we can only choose to either settle or make changes. And if you are unhappy with your current state, it only makes sense to choose the latter, so you raise your head up, and you move forward.

You accept the fact that there might be something wrong. With the recognition of the problem, along comes the recognition of better ways-- this is the first step, but what is even more crucial is when you have to start acting on it. Indolence hates nothing more than change, because with change, we are forced to make an effort to adapt. And most people, they do not want to make an effort.

I am confounded by individuals who complain about problems with obvious solutions. I am too fat, I wish I was thinner. I wish I can be as pretty as the girl next door. Instead of calling yourself names and drowning in your self-created misery, focus on things that actually make sense. And wouldn't diverting your focus also make more sense? Do not dwell on things that make you unhappy. You are fat, and you wish you were thinner and prettier? Then, become thinner and prettier. Do something about it. Make choices that make sense. Move forward!

Get to know yourself. Find out your strengths and weaknesses. Know what you are capable of. Love yourself. It feels good to appreciate oneself. And once you are able to do all these things, you learn how important your existence is, and you start planning for your own personal growth. Then, you start doing things that make you happy. You become less dependent of others to feed your need for self-fulfillment. You stop chasing and pleasing people for their approval. You start choosing quality over quantity. You find out that you don't really need an army of friends to become happy; you only need yourself and those few who care enough to consciously help you become that better person.

We seek happiness, but we must not settle for the wrong reasons. To quote Heraclitus, nothing endures but change. Nothing is permanent, everything is dispensable. But it is up to you which of them to keep the longest, from material things to people, from emotions to thoughts. But never make yourself believe that there are things you cannot live without.

Do your best not to return to your old habits. Let your old self and old choices teach you lessons, but do not let them define the rest of your life. You will only destroy yourself. Looking back is not bad. We may slip from time to time, but it is part of the process. You will struggle. But struggling is good, it is a sign of progress. It means you are trying to find your way out of the slump.

Of course, all these are easier said than done. But whoever said life was easy? Even I am still in the process of moving forward, great changes do not happen overnight. I still have to remind myself sometimes that I am not the better person I want to become just yet, that there is still so much more to learn about myself. Once you grow up, it stops being just a choice to take control of your own life-- it becomes an instant responsibility. But a responsibility to yourself and not to anyone else. So do yourself a favor and be happy-- it makes more sense anyway.

This picture never fails to make me laugh.
Getting ready for a supposedly "Scary Movie" shot.
Loca Filipinas y Peruanos. xD
Left to right, back: Nohely, Me; front: Yussell, Hanni, Melissa

Today's lesson: Please refer to the entry above.

On Writing and Reading

Thu, 08 Mar 2012 04:40:53 GMT

There is nothing to do, and I cannot even think of anything to write about. I would call this writer's block but (alas!) I am no writer instead I take pride in calling myself a frustrated writer.

I have always loved writing. Being able to form my thoughts into words has always provided me with my much needed sanity break. But unlike most of them prodigies, my love for writing did not start when I was only 4 years old. I was already 8 when I began keeping a diary. Where I got the idea, I do even not remember. But, yes, a pink one at that, complete with a key and a little heart-shaped lock-- at that age, I already knew what a horrible nightmare it would be if my family found out my darkest secret, i.e. whom I had a crush on at school. But I also do not remember where I used to keep the key, so whether one of my sisters eventually found out about my infatuation with a boy I hid under the name David, I will never know. All my young and superficial sentiments, I wrote down until I finished grade school.

The first real book I ever read was from a series called Bobbsey Twins, which I borrowed from a friend in sixth grade. The two sets of twins, Nan and Bert and Flossie and Freddie, (you guessed it) found a mystery worthy to be solved wherever they went. I wish I could have read more of them, but my mother did not believe in buying me such books. There were enough encyclopedias and Reader's Digest issues lying around. :\

I was 12 when I entered high school. My school had a small library with more fiction than reference books. Despite the fact that there was a bigger collection of Sweet Valley High than anything else and that we were not allowed to touch the grown up books, I was still able to find solace in a shelf of Goosebumps. I would borrow three books at a time, cower in bed at night, and scare myself to sleep.

Then, I started buying my own, mostly adaptations of popular TV shows like The Secret World of Alex Mack and Sabrina the Teenage Witch, I also remember owning a couple of Choose Your Own Adventure.

Later on, during my second year in high school, a friend brought a copy of Rage of Angels to school-- this book started it all. If I had a hero, it would be Sidney Sheldon, through his books I found out how powerful stories can be. He made me angry, he made me cry, and he made me laugh. His ability to provoke all kinds of emotion amazes me up to this day. While his stories are riveting, his writing style is sharp yet smooth, his books house the heaviest dramas yet they are always so easy to read and so difficult to put down. After finally finding out what what the grown up books in the library contained, I was unable to stop. I read and read and read. Through college, I would move from one dormitory to another with at least two boxes of books. It was very inconvenient but I never dared to part with my treasures.

And while I was discovering the wonders of the Young Adult genre, I started scribbling down my own stories. They were always about Alexis and Matt, or Samantha and David (Sound too American? Congratulate the Western publishing industry for a job well done!) The internet also gave me the freedom to write. At fourteen, I started blogging and publishing my poems online.

After college, I got myself a so-called writing job for a few months. It was great, but it was then that I realized I had so much more to learn if I wanted to be a writer.

Despite all my love for writing, I never found enough confidence to actually call myself a writer or even someone with potential. Because I know quite well that it does not only feed on passion, you also need the innate talent to think creatively, ink and paper cannot be forced to make love.

I sometimes dream of writing a book that would change the course of literary history or that would make that special impact on people's lives. Maybe someday, when I have enough idle time, I can sit down and listen to the stories that are waiting and wanting to be heard from within me.

Right now, I write because it keeps me sane.

A few stacks of my books.
Though because of the Kindle, I have switched to e-books.

Today's lesson: NEVER GIVE UP. Don't stop doing the things that make you happy no matter how bad you are at it.

On Babies, Photography, and Unemployment (How Random)

Mon, 13 Feb 2012 06:14:55 GMT

It's exactly 6am and I am wide awake. Two hours ago, Ysabelle, my 2-month-old niece, woke me up with another cry fest. She has been doing this to me since I got home about a week ago. :o Truth be told, every time she starts to sob, I tell myself I am never going to have a child. But whenever she lets out a squeal of laughter, it makes me think twice and I tell myself maybe it won't be so bad. I hate it when babies cry, not because their screaming hurts my ears, but because the terrible sound that comes out from them makes me feel like they're going through some intolerable pain. How do mothers handle that? The intermittent yet seemingly forever suffering of their toddlers?

Right now, as I type, she is stirring in her little hammock, fighting sleep and forcing her eyes to open, and I hear myself humming Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star in the most awful tune possible. Now, her cute round eyes glint in the dimmed light, she releases a little sigh and makes a funny sound by clicking her tongue. Despite the fear of having my own, I love children and babies so much. When I see a baby smile, everything in the world starts to make sense again. They remind me that, sometimes, little things matter more, that the simplest gestures can turn someone's world around, and that, most of the time, all we really need is a big hug and a gentle smile.

How can you not love life?
Taken with a camera phone, 8MP, converted to B&W.

I hum again. She stretches her tiny arms and legs and opens her mouth to let out a yawn. How is it possible for someone who has only lived for 68 days teach you so much about life?

--

No, I have not given up on photography though I also have not planned on turning it into a career. If you know me well enough, you should be able to tell why I bought a camera. I have already spent a lot of my savings on birding books and optics, and I plan to spend more. Before I could even start seriously photographing wildlife, I will have to buy a telephoto lens which costs more than my Canon EOS 60D with its EFS 18-135mm kit lens, which, by far, is the most expensive thing I have bought in my life.

I want to get a Canon EF 100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS USM telephoto zoom lens, which is currently on sale and goes for $1,589.00 on Amazon. Or I could get a prime lens, a 400mm f/2.8L or even a 500mm f/4L would be ideal, but I am stupid for neither to pretend like I can spend that much on a hobby right now. Priorities. Priorities.

"My soul is in the sky." - William Shakespeare
Taken at South Street Seaport in New York.

I cannot claim that I am a good photographer, I possess neither enough talent nor technical know-how. I bought a basic photography book specific for my camera and have read two or three online tutorials. I definitely will not be caught paying more than PhP5,000.00 (~US$117.00) for a week's worth of class. I am currently in search of a potential photography buddy, even someone as ignorant as me. XD Learning comes a lot easier if done with another person. Everything just seems more enjoyable with a friend-- I had to go through a gradual and painful process to realize that.

dSLR, birding books, binoculars

If given a chance, why wouldn't I want to study photography and make a living out of it? I would grab the opportunity in a split second. Unfortunately, the things in my life are currently not as aligned as I want them to be. Photography is very expensive. No matter how much it pains me, I have to dwell on the fact that I can't afford a telephoto and a wide angle zoom lens at the same time-- that is how I motivate myself. Haha. XD I have to remind myself again and again: prioriiitiiieees!

--

I have spent my first sixteen days in the Philippines whining, whining about being so whiny. The thought of being unemployed for the next couple of months scares the hell out of me. Again, if you know me well enough, you can testify to how much I like to exhaust myself, be it with work or sports or whatever. A few days ago, I listed and narrowed down all my choices. I have come to the conclusion that I would have to set aside my dream of becoming a Psychologist and an NGO volunteer. I have somehow laid out a little plan for my future. Now, I am keeping my fingers crossed that comes the next year, it will still be my little plan. In a week or two, I will start job hunting in Manila. If I do get accepted, it will take a few months before I could start. And, maybe-- just maybe-- I can continue seeing the rest of the world.

Today's lesson: ALWAYS RETURN A SMILE! :D

On Working and Being Sick

Wed, 04 Jan 2012 20:49:36 GMT

(This post will probably suck, because I can't think right now. You have been warned, read at your own risk.)

What is more upsetting than getting sent home because you have the flu? Having the flu per se. :| But it makes sense to get sent home, so I'm not taking it against anyone. I can get both co-workers and guests sick. I might as well rest and get better.

Anyway, today would be the perfect time to catch up with some house chores: laundry and cooking. With all the food I've been eating, I deserve to be sick. I haven't been taking care of myself. No exercise, all work, and all bad food. I'm in very bad shape.

Since I started working in banquets, I have not had the time to run or go to the gym. After 3 months of running at least 4 miles a day, I stopped. It's not really my job that demands too much time from me. I force myself to work more than I should. People tell me all the time, "you work too much, Joan." And I think it's time for me to tell myself the same thing, I really do work too much.

Sometimes, I don't know how I do it. I always insist on working longer than 8 hours. I've been told that I'm killing myself; working 15 hours, sometimes even more than 20 hours per day, and going in the next day at 5am. At times, I only sleep for 3 hours between shifts. If I'm not working in banquets, I sometimes pick up shifts at Starbucks. So I rarely get a day off, and if I do, it's usually not more than one day per week.

After my first few weeks in banquets, I stopped keeping track of my hours. I don't even notice it anymore. Sometimes, it would feel like I only worked 60 hours, but when I check, it would actually be more than 90 hours. I once worked 118 hours, when everyone else just worked at most 80 hours.

I laugh about it. I laugh about intentionally exhausting myself. I laugh about practically living in the hotel because I'm there most of the time. I laugh about it but, in reality, I am very tired. And, now, it finally caught up to me. I am sick and it frustrates me.

Why do I work too much anyway? The obvious answer is I am saving up money. I have been doing a rotational training, the events department is my third and final assignment. In my first two departments, I worked a lot as well, but I was underpaid. I have not had the opportunity to earn decent money until I moved to banquets. So, these past months, I have taken advantage of the circumstances. I've been making twice, sometimes thrice, as much of what I used to make. I've finally been able to afford the things I want and need. I already paid off the money I owed for this internship program several months ago, and I was able to reward myself with some goodies and travels. But, more than anything, I am trying to earn some extra money for my mom, and for some future investments.

Other than fattening up my piggy bank, I actually just love to work no matter how tiring it is. For one, it preoccupies me. I hate being idle; I hate wasting my time on things that don't and shouldn't matter. And I thought I would never say this when I started working in that hotel, but I sincerely love the people I work with. They are appreciative and they know exactly what teamwork means. This is the reason I want to stay, because I know it will be hard to find the same kind of people to work with back home. Filipinos keep a very different work environment. Not much hugging, and not much besos. If there is one thing you need to know about me, it's that I'm a hugger. When I get back to the Philippines, I think I'm probably going to be depressed for a couple of weeks before I can properly function again. :|

I hope I can easily come back in a few months, but it's almost impossible. But I am determined to visit Peru to birdwatch and see some friends. Give me a couple of months to save for my ticket, and I'll be packed up and ready to fly to South America sometime in the next two years. I am honestly very excited about this plan. Haha. XD

Today's lesson: is very simple, DON'T WORK TOO MUCH! It has its drawbacks.

On New York City and Friends

Tue, 03 Jan 2012 02:16:33 GMT

01.01.2012

New year, woot. I am hungry, sick, and tired. Those are three very negative adjectives that I probably shouldn't be using to describe how I feel on the first day of the year. *sniffles*

The past couple of days haven't really been so bad, except that I started having this awful sore throat when I came home from work two nights ago. My throat is itchy, I cough, I sniffle, and I want to drink some hot tea.

My internship is almost over. I have but a couple of days left. And my heart breaks every time I think about leaving. :( I will be saying goodbye to a group of incredible people, and I will miss them terribly.

01.02.2011

I woke up today with a congested nose. My voice is hoarse and scary, and I sound like an elephant every time I blow my nose. I hate being sick.

After more than a month of working without a day off, the hotel's occupancy rate plummeted; no meetings, no events. I am still not sure if it was something to be thankful about. In the ten days that I was away from work, four days of it I spent trying not to get lost in New York.

Hanni and I booked our flight about two months early. Despite the knowledge that we will be spending a helluva lot of money, we were determined to visit The Big Apple before the year ends. Three days before our flight, we managed to convince Nohely, a Peruvian friend, to go with us. So instead of an iPhone, Nohely decided to purchase a ticket to one of the most interesting cities in the world.

The night before our flight, Nohely got sick and I spent three hours arguing with Expedia.com agents so she could get a full refund. It was a non-refundable ticket, and rebooking would mean another $150.00 over her 300-dollar flight. We cancelled her flight.

Nohely is one of the kindest people I've met. She is such a hard worker that it hurt to learn that she was going to lose her hard-earned money. She also did not deserve to get sick; I was fearing the worst. Then two hours before Hanni and I were to board the plane, Nohely called to say she was rebooking for an afternoon flight to follow us. We were ecstatic but worried; she was, after all, still sick. We met Benhur, Hanni's brother who was also an intern in Missouri, at the LaGuardia Airport in New York City.

We stayed in Marriott at the Brooklyn Bridge. Being Marriott employees, we got a pretty good deal. And since there were four of us, we only paid around $40.00 each for 3 nights. During our first night, we walked to the Brooklyn Heights Promenade to see the Manhattan skyline, and it was one of the most beautiful sights I've seen in my life. For the next three days, we made our itineraries ourselves, and mostly relied on Google maps. None of us had any GPS-enabled device, so we had to review all our daily routes before leaving the hotel. New York is the most exciting thing that has happened to me in my stay in America, and it is indeed what they say it to be: a melting pot of culture and people. I felt at home. The hustle and bustle made me feel like I was back in Manila, only it was better, busier, and more exciting. I can see myself living in New York City.

The Manhattan skyline from Brooklyn Heights Promenade

We did a lot of things in 4 days, from getting lost in the American Museum of Natural History to watching a spray paint art vendor in Times Square, from eating at a Filipino restaurant thousands of miles away from the Philippines to waiting in line for two hours to get to the top of the Empire State Building. And, yes more than what I paid for the roundtrip ticket and the hotel, I spent on commuting, admission fees, and food.

New York City at night, as seen from the 86th floor of the Empire State Building

But seeing the cultural capital of the world and sharing so much laughter with newfound friends-- it was worth every penny, and worth the frustration of creating reliable itineraries and getting lost. XD There was so much to do, but so little time. Four days were not enough, even a month would not have been.

Clockwise: A two-wheeler in Times Square, a graffitied truck in Central Park-Center Drive,
crowd in the Museum of Modern Art, exhibit in the American Museum of Natural History

I don't really know how I got sick. Stress left me a long time ago as I was away from work for ten days. A virus I acquired in the dirty subway trains of New York City? Or simply the flu shot wearing off?

Though I worked the the previous four days in Starbucks, I don't officially go back to work in banquets until tomorrow. Here's to hoping I get better! I don't want anyone else getting sick.

And as I type, I pause and blow my nose, I think about the people I've met in the past year, and I feel warm inside. But as I realize that I will have to say goodbye and that I may never see them again, the cold creeps in once more.

Today's lesson: MAKE IT HAPPEN. GET OUT THERE.

La Vida es Buena

Thu, 03 Nov 2011 00:46:29 GMT

I am a person. And I am a person who is scared of so many things. I am not exactly the daring type.

Singing and dancing in public scares the hell out of me. Driving makes my palm sweaty. And thinking about piercings turns my knees into jelly.

However, I am living several thousands of miles away from my country, family, and friends. I have done this not only once but twice in my life. And I intend to do it a hundred times over. I want to find out what the world has to offer.

I want to see Machu Picchu, get lost in the deepest Peruvian jungles, climb the high Andes, and get a glimpse of the White-Bellied Cinclodes. I do not want to just read about Peru. I want to go to Peru. I want to experience nature's bounty for myself. I want to stand on the soil of the birdiest country in the world. If Philippines has more than 600 bird species, Peru has over 1800. The figure is jaw-dropping, and simply reading about it fills me with euphoria.

I want to visit Picasso's birth city, and experience Europe's warmest winter in Malaga. I want to listen to La Marcha Real amongst the people of Spain. I do not want to just watch a flamenco dancer, I want to dance the flamenco myself and learn how to strum the Spanish guitar. I want to stand in front of the Sagrada Família and allow the greatness of its architecture engulf me. I want to listen to a Spanish historian tell the story of what was once the most powerful empire in the world. I want to learn one of the most spoken languages and speak nothing but Spanish for 3 whole months, so without pretentiousness and with just the perfect accent, I could say to myself "la vida es buena."

I want to teach African orphans how to read and write. I want help build water pipes for the remotest African regions and tell a six-year old girl that she no longer needs to make a 2-km trek several times a day for clean water. I want to touch the walls of African caves and decipher prehistoric paintings, and learn from the Ndebele people the art of beadwork and finger painting. I want to help rehabilitate lions and save sea turtles. I want to glide my hands around the trunk of a baobab tree, so I could understand the magnificence of the African savannas, then sit under its shade and watch the horizon turn into a golden orange.

A ticket to a new place is one of the best gifts you could give to yourself. On a birthday, on a holiday, or after a year's worth of hard work. I have come to realize that life is more than just your loved ones and job, and learning goes beyond what most of us would phrase our comfort zone. Life is also about yourself, your personal growth, and learning how to become a person for those you never thought you would meet or would need you. Unfamiliar faces and places teach us so much more than we usually expect.

Life is indeed full of surprises. We will meet people and see places. We will lose people and leave places. But wherever your passion and shoes take you, what matters are the memories you've collected and who you've become.

I no longer feel trapped. :)

What are the true risks in life? What makes you daring and what makes you not?

Today's lesson: TRAVELING IS LIKE STUDYING. THE MORE YOU DO IT, THE MORE YOU LEARN.

On the Ironies of Life

Wed, 26 Oct 2011 18:17:31 GMT

Yesterday, I waited for my second shift in the locker room. I read on my Kindle while four tired bodies slept beside me. America is indeed a land of abundance. Despite the fact that people work at least two jobs to afford what they want, the American life is still more fortunate than the rest of the world.

While in some places, people are dropping dead like flies as we speak, beggars in Indianapolis are overweight. At one time, I even saw a woman on her laptop with a sign beside her that says, "PLEASE HELP, JOBLESS." The whole world is an epitome of irony.

Day after day, I watch people clad in designer clothes walk around the hotel; a gentleman with a Burberry scarf around his neck, a lady with a Hermes leather handbag. Last night, 600 people filled one of the hotel's ballrooms. Men and women chatter while holding cocktails with one hand and gesturing with the other. They lined up for the most delicious dishes the world can offer, and they danced under the most colorful of lights. I also remember that some nights ago, we hosted a charity auction, and I overheard that a little puppy was just auctioned for $3,000.00. The hotel I work for caters to socially prominent people. People who can afford to stay in a hotel for several hundreds of dollars per night, and who want the best service their money can buy.

So why am I now thinking that I would rather be around people who make nothing than around them who can buy a small town if they wanted to? I really don't understand. I could probably easily get a job in a hotel back home, work in an air-conditioned establishment, wear a suit everyday, and be surrounded with people in the same outfit.

At one time, a co-worker and I set up a continental breakfast for 6 people. The event order form was stamped V.V.V.I.P. We laid out five plates of fresh fruits, a dozen bagels, a pan of premium glazed Virginia ham biscuits, and several dozens of pastries, breakfast breads and muffins on two 5000-dollar glass tables, not to mention the 4 gallons of coffee on the credenza which was worth almost $250.00. The room was spotless, it was fit for the royal family. After their meeting, we went to clear the room and to our surprise, nothing was touched. I stood inside a room that we so meticulously set up an hour ago, surrounded with food that was prepared by the most talented chefs, food that was going to be thrown away in ten minutes. Several Filipino families could've been fed for a week, convert it to cash and several Filipino families could've been fed for a month. While the hotel wastes literally tons of food every week, on the other side of the world, people are dying of hunger. How does such a thing happen?

Sometimes, when I wait outside a meeting room for a group to break, I like to pretend that they're talking about the future of children in Africa, and not of dominating their industries.

The world is a sad place guised by things that entertain and preoccupy us. Hollywood, anime, computer games, money, even friends and family. We all want to be successful, but material possession doesn't guarantee peace of mind. And personal wealth doesn't take away the fact that millions of children are growing up hungry and uneducated.

Do you care? Do you want to do something about it?

Today's lesson: CARE. REFUSE TO ACCEPT THAT THINGS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE THE WAY THEY ARE.

On Working Too Hard and Diversity

Sat, 22 Oct 2011 21:13:56 GMT

Working too much has its drawbacks.

My watch read 7.52am. Five seconds later, I realized I was late for work. Almost two hours late. I took a cab instead of my bike. Fifteen minutes after I clocked in, I was sent home.

Unlike in my two previous departments, my current bosses are handbook nuts. I also found out today that a bunch of people has already been fired for tardiness, including an intern. So remind me to set my alarm two hours before my shift tomorrow.

I feel stupid that I worked so much in the past couple of days only to lose (at least) 8 hours of work today. When I mentioned in my previous post that the next two days were going to be worse, I wasn't joking. I was scheduled both in Coffee Breaks (CB) and Starbucks last Thursday. After 9 hours in CB, I only had time to change before clocking in for my next 8 hours in Starbucks. I was so tired that I decided to take two shots of undertow (vanilla, half & half, espresso shot)-- I found out later that night that it wasn't one of my brightest ideas. The undertow immediately took effect, I was wired for the rest of the night. In fact, so wired I didn't get to sleep until about 2.30am, and I had to be back at work at 4.45am. I worked almost 11 hours in CB, and almost 7 hours in Starbucks yesterday. 17 and 18 hours in two days with only an hour of sleep in between, am I trying to kill myself? I could be. So last night, I got home, changed and tried reading for 2 minutes before I dozed off-- I had to be at work at 6.30am.

Sometimes, I am made to wish I had an office job instead. CB is not as boring as I initially thought it was, my job includes lifting and transporting several gallons of boiling coffee in metal urns, and pushing rolling tables that are literally 20 times heavier than me on the hotel's carpet. I carry huge serving trays, which are also bigger and heavier than me, on my shoulder a lot. I'm really worried about my back. :| Other than being physically strenuous, every thing else is manageable. I am happy with CB. I still have so much to learn, but the group of people I work with is just really awesome. Today, instead of coming back to the apartment after clocking out, I went to a flea market and a pizza buffet with my new friends, Nohely and Stephany. Nohely was also sent home and she was only 24 minutes late! Being in a car with two Spanish-speakers can be really amusing, there always seems to be so much going on. I try to decipher some of their sentences; I understand a few words but end up getting lost. They just talk too fast. XD

Next week will be pretty slow though. I will have plenty of time to relax, which is disappointing. Because I want to keep working. It would be great if I could pick up some shifts. I really want that camera.

Working in a culturally diverse environment teaches you a lot of things. The event services department is a huge pool of immigrants, so you are expected to relate to all kinds of personalities. In CB alone, I work with Americans, Vietnamese, Mexicans, Peruvians, Iranians, an African, and an English. The degree of diversity was not as much in my previous two departments. Listening to the chorus of varying accents is surprisingly entertaining. I love everyone in CB but, right now, my favorite person would probably be Zaid (African), simply because she's very comfortable to work with, and she hugs like a mother. :) Ah, just thinking about saying goodbye to these people in January already makes me sad. :( It is really depressing if you think about it, because people come and go, and so many things seem dispensable. No matter how much you don't want some things to change, the harsh reality is you can't do anything about it. That's why every single day must be appreciated. The sadness of goodbyes is set aside if you live and enjoy life one day at a time.

Today's lesson: MEET AS MANY PEOPLE AS YOU CAN. LEARN THEIR CULTURE AND LANGUAGE. BE FLEXIBLE. YOU HAVE A LIFETIME TO START ENJOYING DIVERSITY, BUT THEN AGAIN, YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE.

Thoughts on an Idle Day

Wed, 19 Oct 2011 23:37:20 GMT

The air is starting to smell like pork stew. The metal knife against the cutting board duets with the sound of boiling water. Zarah always cooks with so much enthusiasm that the kitchen seems to turn into her own little kingdom every time she's preparing something. Hanni sits in a corner with her Kindle, laughing one minute and whining the next. Twilight, she claims, is a good book. I sit on the floor opposite her. And I take a sip of my tea while I watch her read intently.

The sky is a subtle gray, a sad hue of white. It has been raining since I woke up this morning. It's 44°F outside, merely touching the glass window would make you shiver. Earlier, I cooked vermicelli and feasted on it while observing the crowd of teenagers enter the Conseco Fieldhouse across the street. Downtown Indianapolis has been very busy lately with a string of conventions. I was lucky to have been given a break today after working for 14 consecutive days. Tomorrow, I work again. When my next day off will be, I have no idea. I have not exactly done anything productive, which is heartbreaking. Other than doing my laundry and going to the gym later, I have not planned anything else. I feel like I'm wasting so much time. But then again, it's nice to be idle after working like a horse for 2 weeks. And, after all, the next two days will be much worse.

My sister has invited me again to Colorado in the first week of December, but I might have to turn it down for our planned New York trip on Christmas. It makes me sad though, to choose NY over Yana. But Yana I will see again next year, and NY I may never be able to visit once I go back to the Philippines. No matter how much I want to make money not an issue, it will always be an issue. Everything has a price. Like going to NY, seeing my niece again will cost me something, a helluva lot of something.

Due to an unexpected event, I will have to postpone buying a camera again. I am trying not to be bitter over it, so I'm settling for some other birding necessities instead. A number of items have been sitting in my Amazon shopping cart for more than a week now. And I've been itching to purchase them but the practical decision is to wait for my next paycheck. Fortunately, I only have to wait for two more days. XD And since my laptop has been very dysfunctional, I decided to buy a portable hard drive two weeks ago. I figured that it was more reasonable to buy an HD, than to buy a cheap but inferior laptop now and regret it later. So in case my laptop decides to fail me for good, my files are safe and I won't be as disappointed.

It is a Buffalo MiniStation, capable of storing 500GB of data but light as a feather, only 5.82 oz. With the dimensions of 3.03 x 4.5 x 0.55", it's lean enough. I initially wanted the 1TB version, but it would not have been a very smart investment; 500GB is more than enough already.

The sky has turned a darker shade yet it's only 18 minutes past 7pm. Two months ago, it would still be bright out. Winter is indeed on its way, and we'll be battling with hypothermia again. :\ I have started wearing gloves on my way to work in the morning. The cold air can get overwhelming.

My tea has gone cold, and I sip the last of it. Ah, I'm bored, yet some people would kill for the life I have right now.

I look out the window, hundreds of lights dapple the city's tall buildings. And I tell myself, the rest of the world awaits you, and you will see it soon.

Today's lesson: THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH WANTING MORE, BUT YOU NEED TO LEARN HOW TO APPRECIATE WHAT YOU HAVE. IT'S A CLICHE FOR A REASON: YOU'RE LUCKIER THAN YOU THINK YOU ARE.

A Quarter-Life Crisis (Sort Of)

Wed, 05 Oct 2011 00:02:33 GMT

I was having difficulty breathing, and my heart was throbbing so hard like it was about to literally jump off my chest. My belly was not being very happy. Bats, not butterflies, were screeching and flying around in my stomach. I have been very worried lately, and I thought maybe I would feel better if I write about it.

More than a month ago, I told myself I was going to take a Master's degree in Sociology when I get back to the Philippines. I have, after all, been wanting to study that discipline since time immemorial; it was just not so practical. Admittedly, I did not immediately zero down on Sociology. I was very confused; I want to learn so many things. Though I was quite sure I wanted to study something related to the social sciences, so Anthropology, Psychology, Sociology, etc. Then, a couple of days ago, while in Utah, something resembling an opportunity presented itself.

Now, I've spent the last three days researching graduate programs here in the United States and in the United Kingdom. There are so many options, but I do not really qualify for all of them. I was not a good undergraduate student. In fact, I don't believe I have actually ever been a good student in my life. I am a person who settles on what is mediocre. I do not work hard enough to learn something I do not find interesting. But I did perform really well in my general subjects. True, it may be because they had less and easier requirements, and my instructors and professors were more generous but, more than anything, they were that part of my college education that I appreciated and enjoyed immensely.

As one friend also emphasized, I will have more of an advantage if I study abroad. And it just makes more sense. To be able to learn things in a more global perspective is essential if I really want to get somewhere. And let's face it, the University of the Philippines may be the best in the country but, sometimes, you can only learn so much from one place. Receiving further education here in North America or in Europe would help provide me with more opportunities in the future. Now, while I was looking into some academic institutions, in the back of my mind, I was also analyzing my life.

And it just hit me. You know that feeling when there has been something bugging you for a long time but you can't really put your finger on it? Like you've known it all along, but it has never really struck you? Well...the bomb just dropped on me.

What am I doing? I have nothing to be proud of. I am just another worthless individual. I have not done anything of importance for anyone else. I am just another person who is unconsciously living a life out of a manual. Be a corporate slave. Be a housewife. Be a businessman. Be an engineer. Be a doctor. Be anything for yourself and those close to you. And not be someone for the world.

And like everybody else who has had the same awakening-- I am now suddenly someone who wants to change the world. :|

I feel helpless. Because time is running so fast. And I feel as if I am wasting so much time and energy doing things that do not really matter. Things that do no matter to myself and to the world. I do not have the knowledge and background to be able to make an actual difference.

The problem is studying abroad is not as easy as it seems. There are so many factors to consider. I do not have the financial capability to study in a first-world country, where everything seems to have a price tag of at least 1000 times more of its counterpart in the Philippines. Yes, there are scholarships-- the issues here are: my transcript is not really impressive, graduate scholarships are very competitive, and (honestly) I'm not very smart. I currently do not have the confidence to compete with a bunch of intellectuals. I am mediocre enough to admit that. :|

So I was thinking...I could spend a couple of years in the Philippines to prepare for further education abroad. I have been reading about one of Colorado State University's MBA programs that specializes in the sustainability of small enterprises in developing countries. But I understand that I'm not yet ready for it. I have so much more to learn. This time, I will have to be more vigilant, it is better to spend a long time preparing than risk failing.

Anyhow, I'm not really sure what to do. And I'm not really that decided about studying abroad. I really don't know. Who knows, maybe next year I'll be in a cubicle acting like a robotic corporate associate. Or maybe I'll be back in school in the Philippines. Or maybe I'll still be wandering aimlessly. But, right now, I know that I want to do something meaningful. And, right now, I'm refusing to be just another person.

I can't wait for my current training to be over. I want to get on with my life.

I have to be smarter. More aware. And I have to learn how to properly act on that awareness.

Now, this is a quarter-life crisis. :|

I need to grow up.

Today's lesson: YOU CAN BE AS IGNORANT AS YOU WANT TO BE, OR YOU CAN BE AS AWARE AND KNOWLEDGEABLE AS YOU WANT TO BE. AT THE END OF THE DAY, WE DECIDE HOW IMPORTANT OUR EXISTENCE IS GOING TO BE.

P.S. No, writing didn't help as much. Maybe running would. You'll find me in the gym in the next hour.

UPDATE @ 11.19pm
Running helped while I was running. Sooo...not really, it didn't. ~_~
Maybe reading and sleeping would. I have to wake up at 5am for my new department training tomorrow anyway. :\

Of the Millennium Trilogy

Tue, 04 Oct 2011 02:09:09 GMT

There are no innocents. There are, however, different degrees of responsibility. - The Girl Who Played with Fire, Stieg Larsson

I am trying to convince myself to put off watching the film adaptation of the Millennium Trilogy until I finish reading the last book. This act of temperance is, in all honesty, very hard to manage. I have, instead, been re-watching the trailers. XD

The first (The Girl with the Dragoon Tattoo) and second (The Girl Who Played with Fire) books are by far the most riveting stories I've read of its genre, i.e. crime/mystery. When I finished the first book, I realized I started with very little expectations and did not anticipate the stack of twists and turns in the plot. It has been a while since I had refused to turn off the lights at night after reading time. XD Of course, I may just happen to have a very active imagination, but what my mind currently likes to make up roots from the books' macabre descriptions of murder, rape, and other obscenities. A few nights ago, during my vacation in Utah, I shamelessly asked my mom to scoot over to the edge of her bed so I can sleep beside her. XD I was too disturbed to sleep in my own bed, which was actually just adjacent her's. XDDD

Speaking of Utah, I spent four days in Salt Lake City to see my mother, who is visiting from the Philippines and to attend my sister's wedding. I was basically cut off from the rest of the world because my laptop's charger stopped functioning about two weeks prior to that. So I didn't bring any other gadget to SLC except for my Kindle and two mobile phones. My mom is well, but she seems very bored, which is understandable because she happens to be my mother. :| She doesn't like being idle. And, frankly, this is the most idle she has been in years. I can't remember her going on any vacation in the past except for those short three (?) days in Singapore with my brother a couple of months ago. She has about a week to go, and she's giddy to go home. However, as also expected, she is having the time of her life with her first grandchild, Yana. Just seeing her sincerely happy with Yana was enough to melt my heart. And I can't blame her, I had looked forward to that vacation myself because of Yana. If I believe in any magic right now, it would be because of her-- and it would be her.

I will talk about Yana and my vacation in another entry. Right now, let's go back to our initial topic. I actually put off finishing the second book because I was distracted by Rizal's Noli Me Tangere. I decided to do that because it was starting to become very disturbing and I was in a patriotic trance. But as soon as I started reading again, I couldn't put it down. Thank goodness for good books, I thought I would lose my sanity when my laptop broke. During my 7-hour flight to Utah and another 7 back to Indianapolis, I only alternated between napping and reading. I don't even remember getting up for a restroom break; when I would wake up from a nap, my hand would automatically reach for my Kindle.

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and The Girl Who Played with Fire are both very well-written, several chapters were climactic and I was made to hold my breath more than once. I find Larsson's writing so vivid. The only part I got disappointed was when Ronald Niedermann a.k.a. "The Giant" ran for his life after imagining that Salander turned into some kind of zombie. I mean, seriously? An almost 7-foot gym junkie? A flick of his wrist against your chest can break your ribs; he has superhuman strength. To top it off, he has congenital analgesia, therefore, he is unable to feel pain. And he still literally ran away like a scared six-year old? But I guess it was vital to the plot, so we could meet him again in the next book. :\ It's just that his character's personality is so ironic it's almost weak. He started off murdering three people, and he ended up being freaked out by a barely five-foot and anorexic-looking girl. :|

It is probably safe to say that the first book is independent of the others; however, the second doesn't end with a conclusion, so the minute I finished it, I immediately downloaded The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest. I read somewhere that Stieg Larsson had intended to write a series of 10 books, and the fourth book was halfway done when he passed away. He was not only a writer but was also an investigative journalist and a political activist, he's a real-life Mikael Blomkvist (the book's male protagonist) himself. The books' theme circles around sexual violence against women. His feminist views stem from his own experience of witnessing a gang rape when he was 15 years old. According to his friend, Larsson failed to intervene in the rape of a woman named Lisbeth (the name he later used for the books' female protagonist), which caused a life-long guilt and a commitment to protect women. He had tried to personally apologize to Lisbeth, but she never accepted. I guess he decided to write the series also as a form of apology. And he ended up writing a series of international bestsellers, which have been adapted into movies.

Reading time.

Today's lesson: ENJOY THE SMALL THINGS IN LIFE, LIKE A GOOD BOOK. :)

Touch Me Not-- For I Am Weak & Fragile (Part I)

Sat, 17 Sep 2011 05:47:02 GMT

I was fighting the urge to write so I could go to the gym, and I succeeded. But now that I am finally free to murder the keyboard with my thinking out loud, I've completely lost whatever train of thought I had been meaning to transform into words. I think it was about the mind-boggling inability of human beings to accept the differences in their societies. :| That or some other topic that was random enough to tickle my neurons. So let's try this again. (Though I can't promise anything worthy of serious contemplation because I'm actually ready submit to the Sleep Fairy.)

I am currently re-reading José Rizal's Noli Me Tangere (Latin, trans: Touch Me Not). This book was first published in 1887 in Germany, during the reign of the Spaniards in the Philippines. A sequel, El filibusterismo (Spanish, trans: The Filibustering), was later released in 1891. Rizal was, among other things, a nationalist. Contrary to popular belief, Noli is not simply a novel about the sufferings of the Filipino people under the Spanish regime; it is also about the Filipino culture: its strengths and flaws. Frankly though, I wouldn't be surprised if someone told me that Rizal is of the current generation, and he had written these books for the Filipinos of today. The sad truth is that the flaws of our forefathers are still our flaws today. And what is even more depressing (disgusting even) is that whatever strengths they possessed (unfortunately) died with them.

While before it was the Spaniards who oppressed the Filipinos, today, it is Juan dela Cruz oppressing Juan dela Cruz. Despite its so-called independence, the Philippines remains a home to millions of people who are confined in poverty by their own backwards culture. If Rizal could see the current state of the country, he would weep.

"In every instance I noted that a people’s prosperity or misery lay in direct proportion to its freedoms or its inhibitions and, along the same lines, of the sacrifice or selfishness of its ancestors."

The statement above is quoted from Noli, as spoken by the character Crisostomo Ibarra. According to Rizal, a country's prosperity or the lack of it is dependent on two things: its freedom and its history.

First, history. I will again admit that I am no expert on this subject. Though despite the reality that our history is actually a history of our foreign conquerors, isn't the country's current claim of autonomy proof enough of our ancestors' efforts?

Next, freedom. This is where it gets tricky. We should wonder if our autonomy is indeed synonymous to freedom-- and that I will ramble about in my next post. I am unfortunately a legal adult, which means I am forced by society to burden myself with responsibilities and priorities. And because I am a loser, it is waaaay past my bedtime. :|

OT: This is what I love about learning to cook. I can now eat real food. At any time of the day. Even after midnight. Carbonara, anyone?

My Thoughts on Star Wars (Part I)

Thu, 15 Sep 2011 04:27:37 GMT

I finally finished watching the complete Star Wars saga. It was around two weeks ago when I decided to re-watch Episode IV, which I first saw when I still believed I can have superpowers. Re-watching a movie in an age past your adolescence can be interesting. Re-watching a movie categorized as sci/fi in an age past your adolescence can feel almost liberating.

Warning: SPOILERS AHEAD

Star Wars is a story of betrayal, and not simply of men in robes with laser swords that emit funny noises. It is a film with political allegories. Or better yet, it is a political allegory in itself, that is if you try to ignore all of George Lucas' futile attempts to include romance in the plot. And from whatever angle you look at it, you can't deny that Lucas is a libertarian. Though I can agree that it would be better not to interpret any economic gabble from the story (since some would be fine just to have it as a story of robots, aliens, and cool superpowers), I sometimes happen to enjoy things more when I overthink them. XD The Galactic Republic reorganized into the Galactic Empire by a Sith Lord--taxation, rebellion, democracy, all these constitutional references -- why that can't tempt you into throwing in real political connotations, I refuse to understand. XD

While running on the treadmill earlier, I tried to think of justifications why Star Wars is a great story. But no matter how deep I think, a seemingly trivial reason always climbs its way on top of the list: Han Solo. Witty, reckless, egotistical-- all kinds of prick rolled into one-- that is the detestable Solo. He is part of why the original trilogy was such a great hit, and his absence is also a reason why the prequels were hogwash. Han Solo is the character most watchers can relate to. He is self-centered and cares about nothing else but money and his furry friend, Chewbacca. He does not deny his lust for financial abundance and does not think twice about blaming everyone else when he finds himself in a tight spot. He is unmistakably an asshole, he is the character closest to reality, and he is undeniably human (literally and figuratively). Though it would've been nice if he remained an asshole, Lucas decided to sprinkle a bit of nobleness in him, which didn't turn out as bad. Because, after all, every human being aspires to be a hero. And even when he became a hero, he was still a douchebag; he remained true to his nature.

The original Star Wars trilogy was released between 1977 and 1983. It is understandable then to anticipate substandard special effects, but George Lucas and his crew defied expectations. Of course, it wasn't perfect, Yoda could've easily passed for a Sesame Street character for chrissake. But watch a preview of Star Trek: The Motion Picture, released in 1979, and you'll know exactly what I mean.

Puppet Yoda:

Then, the prequels came out and Yoda became a full CGI. We finally see our little green friend in a lightsaber duel. We now see his feet when walks and his face can now express emotions.

CGI Yoda:

However, special effects do not make a movie. Star Wars is an epic drama, it is expected to have content. After the original trilogy, Lucas needed to present the same quality of writing if not better. I may be stereotyped as a basher, but it will not stop me from saying that the prequel trilogy sucked.

For starters, I couldn't grasp who the main character was. It was neither Anakin nor Obi-Wan, and it certainly was not Yoda. None of the characters satisfied the role of a protagonist. Unlike in the original trilogy, we actually followed the personal development of a Luke Skywalker. And didn't it feel like the whole trilogy was a complete drag? It took me more than a week to finish the prequels. I had to summon as much courage as I could to form the slightest anticipation.

Hayden Christensen failed big time. I can't believe how poorly he could act considering that he does it for a living. His acting was awkward and terrible. From little Ani to Padawan Anakin to despicable Darth Vader, I expected at least a subtle transition in Episode II, but Anakin was vile from the start. The way he would look at Padme was just disgusting. And as if Christensen's acting was not enough of a disappointment, they had to cast Samuel L. Jackson as Master Windu. I always thought that a Jedi Master should be calm and graceful in action and words, Jackson as Master Windu was not. He appeared obnoxious and aggressive.

I almost died when I saw R2-D2 fly. Honestly, I was extremely excited until I realized I was watching Episode II; he never flew again in Episodes III to VI. And, oh, it also appears as though the physics behind it is wrong.

Finally, the single appearance of Darth Vader in the prequel trilogy was ruined by a single line:

The dramatic scene above will never equate to this:

While the former had been created to draw out the same emotions from the audience as the latter did, it just wasn't good enough. I actually thought it was comical instead of jaw-dropping. Darth Vader was presented like Frankenstein's monster. As he was hoisted upright, his attempt to free himself from the operating table was unnatural. I think that one of the world's most iconic villains could've been introduced better.

P.S. This entry could've been longer but my brain refuses to cooperate. I think I am now in need of sleep. Even if bedtimes are for losers. :|

Últimos Versos

Wed, 14 Sep 2011 03:06:00 GMT

Tonight I Can Write (The Saddest Lines)
Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write for example, 'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to a pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

OMW! (For the Lack of a Better Title)

Wed, 07 Sep 2011 17:55:38 GMT

As soon as circumstances permit, I'm going back to school for something I've always wanted to do. It will seem impractical to others, and they will convince me not to make a mistake. But I don't want to be one of those people who are unhappy and discontented because they keep putting off their dreams.

Remember when you were little and you wanted to be a doctor or a pilot or a firefighter? You never once doubted who you would become. Well, when I was a little, I never really had a dream. My ambition was vague and did not fit any title, so I let my parents dream for me. I was my father's future lawyer; I started dreaming about pro-bono cases and courtrooms. I was going to become a defender of the oppressed. But then, like everybody else, I grew up.

For college, despite my mother's disapproval, I took up Computer Science. During that time, Nursing was a hype in the Philippines-- well, it actually still is; it is the practical degree. Parents send their children abroad in hopes of becoming rich from remittances. High school graduates, who don't know what they want to do in life, are settling for a course that seems right because everyone is taking it. Well, I knew what I did not want to be, I did not want to be a nurse. And even if I never really wanted to be a programmer, I was willing to risk so I could figure out my life while studying in one of the best universities in the country, which for me was the more logical decision.

A year and a half into the program, I realized I could never become a computer scientist. It was difficult because I hated almost everything about it. True, I was good at it when I tried, but I hated trying to do something I did not enjoy. I could not visualize myself doing what computer scientists do, and it scared me. I decided to drop out from the program.

Then, the fear of disappointing the people in my life started to creep in. With that fear bound by the lack of ambition, I shifted to Hotel, Restaurant, and Institution Management. And, now that I think about it, I spent so much time in college trying to figure out my life. I spent several years trying become somebody I never wanted to become. But I want to say I have no regrets. I've learned a lot despite my wandering.

So, now, that I think I finally want to become something, I have no more excuse to put this off. Now is the right time, while I am young and have less responsibility than the average person, while I still have the appetite for knowledge. I want to learn. Though I still do not know exactly what profession to take, I know which path to follow to ultimately arrive there.

I have several months before enrollment. Acceptance into the program is still uncertain. My transcript is not very impressive. XD After all, I was never a good student. XD But I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

I don't want to be a person whose worth is defined simply by his his bank account and material possession. I don't want to chase money just for the sake of chasing money. While it is true that I also want to be comfortable in life, I want balance in mind and fulfillment in self more than anything else. Life is short, I want to do this before it's too late. I want to truly enjoy life; I want to be sincerely happy.

Today's lesson: BECOME THAT SOMEONE.

Great Time at Greatimes and P.F. Chang's

Wed, 07 Sep 2011 07:09:38 GMT

When we found out that the kayaking facility was closed, we almost ended up wasting the night. One hour after the disappointment, we decided to go to Greatimes, a fun park located 8 miles from downtown, which Hanni found online. It was already 7pm, and the park was going to close at 9pm, but we went anyway. The cab ride didn't take more than 15 minutes.

The park was almost deserted, much like a ghost town, which was actually good because we didn't have to wait in line for anything. XD The tickets were a little expensive, $5.00 for each attraction, so we just chose two rides. Two aweeeesome rides. :))

Larry, Zarah, Hanni, Me (click to zoom)

The first ride was called Bumper Boats, which I didn't expect to be that exciting. I mean, bumper boats? I thought the object of the game was simply to ram the rubber boats into each other. To control the boat, there were two triggers. The first one made the boat move-- the second was labeled gun. O_O When Larry got into his and pressed the gun button-- water trajected from a tiny hole on the engine. O_O Boy, were we in for a ride! XD We spent 7 minutes laughing like little hyena cubs, who were trying to drown each other. :))

Hanni, Jojo, Me, Larry after Bumper Boats(click to zoom)

Yes, we were drenched. I was especially soaked because I was wearing a thin shirt. :)) But it was one heck of a ride, one of the most carefree 7 minutes of my life. :))

Our second and last ride was kart racing. I was a little nervous because I do not know how to drive. With the excitement hangover from the previous ride, my apprehension easily went away. It was awesome, I felt so daring. HAHA. XD And I wondered about racers, how happy they are making a living out of something (sans the danger) that gives them so much enjoyment. I could've done it all day but it had to end. And the wind dried my clothes and hair. XD

A bowling alley was located next to the fun park. Unfortunately, a tournament was being held that night, the place was reserved. :\

We had dinner at P.F. Chang's China Bistro in the Circle Center Mall. We were aiming for something new but not very expensive. Haha. XD As expected from a Chinese restaurant, their servings were big enough for sharing.

(click to zoom)

We started off with an order of the Pan-Fried Shrimp Dumplings and Spring Rolls. The dumplings were amazing, which we shared over a discussion of the Philippines' local siomai houses. The Spring Rolls, however, was not very exceptional due to its blandness.

Our main course included the Wok-Seard Lamb and Shrimp with Lobster Sauce, which were both incredibly delicious. The former had a hint of sweetness in it and was very tender. The shrimp was cooked in garlic white wine sauce with scallions, egg, black beans, and mushrooms.

Of course, what better way to end the night but with mouth-watering treats. :D

(click to zoom)

The first photo is of the Great Wall of Chocolate, six layers of chocolate cake, frosted with chocolate chips and served with raspberry sauce and fresh berries. We also had the Banana Spring Rolls with the heavenly pineapple-coconut ice cream-- probably the best ice cream I've ever had in life. @_@ Yes, I can die happy now. HAHA. XD

P.S. My fortune cookie said: