awards night

in a word, exhausting. ohwel. it also just proved i am so much in my element when doing events.

me and my girls. and a boy.

with lolo ned

magazine ba daw ito? haha

kukung chronicles

naughty little girl, she's grown so big na. she seems so tall, and yet she's only turning 3 this may!
hmm... i bet sa akin nag-mana 'to. mwahaha

~

April 8. Bruised Knees and A Full Heart.

Isaac.

I went to an improv theater workshop for a couple of days. Two days of seemingly fun and games but in reality, a whole lot of heart and hard work. It is hard work to forget all your pre-conceived notions of shame, self-consciousness and self-doubt. I call him Issac. Because he looks like Isaac Mizrahi.

Faaaah.bulousss, dahlings!

We started the day barefoot- then progressed to sitting, rolling and doing what we may, right on the floor. Then on to jumping, hopping then miming our way to abandon because word for the day was –IMPULSE.

It’s a wonder, really. I have been forever the PLANNER- digital, in psychology parlance. I once took a personality test that showed my strengths to be in the areas of organizing and planning. I do a lot of lists- I even list my outfits for a trip or a busy week, OC freak that I am. Ah, lists. I have lots and you’d be amused with the things I list down.

So that day, me with my lists, my 2/5 year plan, all corporate-y and at times too formal and uptight self, let go and acted out everything that got into her real, crazy head. I wanted to jump, so I did. I wanted to dance, so I did. I wanted to hop, sing, skip and run around, so I did what I damn well pleased. And it felt great.

Isaac, the flamboyantly fabulous program director, taught us to let go and act on our impulses. More importantly, I realized that everyday, we reject people all the time- their selves, thoughts, ideas. We reject notions, gut feel and creativity. In fact, almost every second, we reject-- and the funny-ironic thing is that WE don’t like rejection.

ACCEPT! (read as: aaahck-sept!)

We keep to our safe selves in our little corners because we are constantly afraid of rejection. And in turn, we always do our part to reject others. Learn to say NO- but have we turned our backs to the things that we should be saying YES to? What are the things in our lives that need our YESES? That we need to embrace, accept with bare hands? Similarly, how can we expect to ACCEPT blessings when we still have our hands full?

LET GO. Surrender.

Letting go of old thoughts, negative pre-conceived notions, mindsets do little to help us. When did we learn to get so scared of rejection? Letting go of fears enable us to dream bigger and better.

If someone rejects you- so what? Strangely enough, the more one practices ACCEPTANCE, LETTING GO- the more you grow, the more you are able to give of yourself to others. Similarly, one has to let go of control and be able to ACCEPT HELP. And then the FAAAAHBULOUS cycle of helping and making everything all around great, living in great vibes goes on and on.

Simplistic? Maybe.
But it works for me. As I always say, life is complicated enough; the genius is in the simple things.

So then, from Isaac, I learned to--

Surrender/Let Go

of self-doubt

of misconceptions

of all store-bought thoughts

of fears

Accept

Everything and everyone.

As they are. Seriously.

Honor my IMPULSE

Jump. Dance. Sing.

Laugh.

Why the hell not.

After all, we are just bodies. While we take care of it and nurture it, these are after all mere shells of what counts the most- our souls.

froglegs

We are all meant to move on. That gives me a measure of peace, in such a way that all things that are happening- and not happening, by the way- are meant to be. There is a kind of calmness that washes over you when you just accept- things, people, and situations as they are.

I miss the time when I could explicitly believe in what you say, when I could trust you. Now that I’ve been proven otherwise, it just amazes me how free I feel. Strange, no? Ironic how liberating it feels, that I no longer have to hang on to your every word, that I no longer need to have your approval, that I don’t have to wait for you, wait on you.

Let’s just call this story, lesson learned.

Then again, aren’t we possibly always brought to a place we thought we’re meant to be in, only to discover ourselves riding another wave, and crashing down to another place yet destined for us? Aren’t we always travelling around in cycles until we find that stop sign that says home? It shouldn’t really matter how long or short a time you stay. Oftentimes, we stay too long in a place because we’re comfortable- or too damn scared to move lest you’re wrong. At times, we move too fast and leave behind things. Places. Ourselves? (What else, I don’t know). We leave behind things we thought we knew, only to find that we yet again- search for the very things we have left behind.

I’ve kissed more than enough frogs. Some frogs worse than pond scum. And yet we invariable turn to them, again and again, like a bad habit hard to break. Ranting to a friend, he laughingly reminded me, But of course you cannot expect frogs to turn to princes. They’re ugly, for one. And they’re full of warts.

Sheesh. O nga naman.

what my YOUniverse looks like

found this neat little quiz thingamajig on the 'net. fun stuff.

my quiz says...

About Warm And Fuzzy

The Warm and Fuzzy is someone who's very down-to-earth when it comes to love. They tend to be pretty realistic about what makes a lifelong partnership work. They understand the value of forging a love based on friendship, respect and shared values. In fact, often their relationships develop out of friendships and their lover tends to be their best friend. Marriage and children are probably central to their life. As far as they're concerned, a true relationship is one that matures with time and work. But they need to work at keeping that spark of passion alive.

How to love a warm and fuzzy type

Bust out the cashmere blanket. You two are peas in a very cozy pod. If you want a loyal committed life-long love, then this one's for you.. In fact you might as well start building a porch for your rocking chairs.

Love Notes

- Blow up a copy of their favorite photo and have it specially framed and delivered to them at work.
- Go for a long walk in the park; you know the vibe: flowers in your hair in summer, kicking leaves in autumn...
- Brainstorm baby names and check out estate agents' windows

wanted: holiday

It’s been a succession of bad days all around- when everything I do and touch seems to have the opposite effect of Midas touch. Everything I touch instead crumbles and I mess up, all the damn time. Or is it because I am so hard on myself? In any case, I don’t accept excuses, least of all, from myself- so I just go on and on and on, at break-neck speed, not stopping for anything, or anyone.

I just realized though that lately too it’s been easier for me to let go of things I cannot control and not take anything personally- even in the face of (upfront) arrogance, rudeness and conceit. And because of that, I also find it a lot easier to admit to my mistakes- yes, the ones that I actually do and not those blamed on me. Even then, it doesn’t matter because I am able to see it in the most objective of manners. And I no longer have that nagging voice-over that constantly says “I need to be/I should be *fill in the blank*”. Is this borne out of maturity? Is this borne out of the fact that I have grown (a little bit)- no longer insecure (most of the time) in who I am? Then there are bad days, there are worse days, but I am able to bounce back a lot more quickly than before. I figured everybody has those kinds of days. Then I figured out some more that I won’t allow myself such bad days- a bad half-hour, maybe, or a bad couple of hours, at the most. But I won’t allow my whole day to be ruined- I hope its not blind Pollyanna-Positivism schtick. I’d rather focus on getting better, all the time. Just have to keep my eye on the prize- which is mine, all mine, for the picking! Haha. Seriously, it’s important not to lose sight of the whys and hows of things. I figured-yet again, that though NOT perfect and blameless, trying makes the world go ‘round- and makes it all worthwhile. Then the acceptance that I am not perfect, but I try to be my own version (of perfect).

(P.S. I have to remember to make sure that those bad hours do not extend to full-on bad days. Lately it’s been so stressful that my first instinct is to run! As in, get on the treadmill! It’s been such an escape. OR smoke. Sheesh. BUT. I am proud to say, that I haven’t touched a stick since January. J )

finding the balut man

It started with street food. Or maybe it started when they both smiled at each other for the first time, under the guise of serious work. Somehow, even if they were strangers, nothing felt strange, at all.

The day went on as if nothing extraordinary happened, as if two souls who were very much alike and fated to meet, did not actually fulfill their destiny, all just by being at the right place, at the right time.

Strange. Peculiar.

As strangers go, he was familiar. And his very presence calmed her. His very presence made everything feel right. Did this happen before, or after, they got to talking?

Then the smile progressed to talking, over shared cappuccinos and croissants. Smiling, giving in to shared laughter, over good food and more coffee. Smiling, laughing, talking, more eating. Seemingly innocuous everyday things that lead to magic when…when what, exactly?

What exactly lends that one person the ability to spark magic to these everyday, ordinary things? It seems so powerful, letting just one person have that effect over you. Making one-person matter over all the rest. Appointing a singular, yet all encompassing feeling to just one-person. Who are we to figure out answers to age-old questions?

On to shared food- the ultimate bonding activity. Shared laughter progressing to shared meals.

And looking for the balut man. Seemingly ordinary sentiments, statements- looking for the balut man, weird food stories, work rants and dreams. Playing each others’ tourist. And it’s all thanks to food.

His adorable accent matters more than the fact that my English is better than his. I never thought I’d say this- so what if his grammar is bad? I’ve had worse conversations with better English-speaking people. Who’d have thought I’d be thinking of balut so fondly? The man who screams selling his wares, who I randomly hear out on the streets. The balut man, reminiscent of all good things that I deserve. The story of the balut man who made me remember my dreams, the one who opened doors for me to walk through unafraid again.

Thank God for street-food, Pinoy-style.

(As opposed to living life with low-involvement. No matter if the balut man passes through and does not stay. What matters is that he came, and stayed for awhile.)

wolfpack

i am sorry for the lost Sundays, hot weekends notwithstanding

passion startling

cut-and-run, fun and rum on the run

a toss up between grace and class

and disappointing crass

marshland

This is what happens when I ignore once again the why nots, because I’ve chosen not to break against the slippery slope.

But, never mind. I’m tired, yeah, I’ve learned, yet again.

So what, it still leaves me in shambles, unraveled.

And so it goes, another day, another song, another hope.

Maybe it gets better with time, maybe I get better with time.

I am happy it doesn’t matter as much.

And what do you know. A different day, a different story.

Sometimes, things are as simple, and as complicated as that.

street food

are old dreams coming true?
is this the result of the
stop/wait mode
i was put on
sometime ago?

as all things are,
fate seems to be pushing me
to the right direction.

ah, new stories, coming up!

happyhappyjoyjoy

theater.improv.

getting bumped, bruises and bum knees

while dancing with eyes closed

and loving every single second of it.

sharing a cappuccino in a green cup

and a pop of choco chip surprise ,

sinfully divine banana butterscotch

after a long day

impulse!

being free. at my own pace.

my own terms.

surrendering.

finding meaning.

knowing.