TK's Take of Singapore

The photos below are TK's trial run in Singapore--mostly of Botanic Gardens since I stayed somewhere in the area. The others are from The Esplanade, Orchard Road and the East Coast. It was a rainy, cloudy week when I was there, so no brilliant skies when these were taken! But anyway, here they are!! No more captioning...too complicated for a low-tech person like moi!

The Waiting Game

3.5 hours. That was the total number of hours I spent staring at nothing, simply waiting for the three different counters at the UK Visa Application Centre (UKVACS) to decide if I submitted all the requirements needed and if there were any other gaps I needed to fill. I couldn't even fiddle with my cellphone since every person who comes in has to surrender their handbag and extra stuff to the guard at the entrance.

By the second hour, I could feel a pounding headache coming...probably because I came in with an empty stomach. I stupidly assumed that the whole submission business (since it was just submitting papers) would take at most an hour and a half, so I opted to skip breakfast and have a good brunch when I get out of the UKVACS office. At 1:30 in the afternoon, I came out with my head full of pounding hammers and a stomach empty of anything except probably for acid hissing for something to burn.

Whether I came in well-armed for the waiting game or not, I suspect I would still be ticked off when I was done.

You see, like most (all?) people, waiting is not exactly my favorite hobby. I have done my share of waiting…whether it is for a delayed flight to take off, for a friend to show up for an appointment, for results from whatever tests, for decisions to be made by higher-ups, for problems to be resolved, for prayers to be answered…ad naseum.

There are certain things/situations when I find waiting senseless—and other times when I find waiting worth it. Whatever the case, one thing is for certain: the reason we have to play the waiting game is because much of life is beyond our control.

I once stumbled on a verse in the Bible that says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick." (Proverbs 13:12). How true! How true!

The wait is especially unbearable if it is something that you have pinned your hopes on. And the letdown that sometimes come after a long wait (with baited breath) can be shattering.

Another time, I saw a signboard at the front of a cinema-turned-church building that announced the pastor’s message for that Sunday and it said, “Delayed by Design.” That time I saw the sign, I was actually waiting for something and somehow the sign was comforting. It tells me that though I was not in control, Somebody far wiser, way more powerful was. He knows what is best and He knows when is best.

I realize how true this is since I found out that because I couldn’t submit my applications earlier (before May), I found out that the agency (UKVACS) that handles the visa submission has waived its processing fee starting May. Then after submission, I went to check my visa status on line through a reference number, and found out that by end of May, the visa processing will change again and become more complicated. I submitted my application at just the right time!

As I wait for the results of my visa application. I keep the above truth in my heart: God, who knows best, delays by design.

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My dear Wordpress friends, I don't seem to be able to get my comments uploaded in your blogs!! Mon suggests to ask you to de-spam my comments (if that's the problem.) Thanks, Mon for the tip!!

Musing on Maslow

Two weeks ago, over a tasty dinner of garlic prawn and asparagus spears, I listened to my Singaporean friend talk about her dissatisfaction with Singaporean society. She didn’t have any qualms about leaving Singapore and planting her roots elsewhere. Her main gripe was that government policies, in the hope of creating an almost-perfect society, have, on the downside, stemmed innovation and creativity—producing instead a nation of employees. “That wily old man,” as she calls the Senior Minister Lee Kuan Yew, “didn’t even show a hint of regret when he was accused of being too much of a dictator!”

The problem was, I had the hardest time sympathizing with her. As a Filipino living in Manila and having to endure, day in and day out, the obvious traces of corruption and poverty everywhere—from potholed streets to nursery-aged kids weaving in between moving cars, selling sampaguita leis—I was hard pressed to complain about Singapore society. Especially as I walked home from her place that night at 11:30 in the evening—nay—I didn’t just walk home—I sauntered home in the well-lit sidewalk in the heart of Singapore. Sauntering home is not an option in Manila—either you’ll get hit by a car (since there are hardly any sidewalks for you to walk on) or you’ll attract some unsavory types trying to “earn their keep.”

So as I sauntered home, I took advantage of the safe environment I was in, and stopped to listen to the stillness once in a while broken by the swishing sound of a passing car—chances of it to be either a BMW or a Jaguar are high. I also stopped to take a couple of photos—wondering if I had steady hands to take photos of the night scene (I don’t!). I also realized that I could actually sit on one of the bus stop benches and enjoy the cool evening breeze—without being eaten alive by mosquitoes (I guess they know to keep away from humans--or else they’d be fined!)

Our conversation played in my head again and I realized it’s all about what Abe Maslow said. Once your basic needs are met (food, shelter, security) you turn your attention to higher needs (emotional, spiritual, intellectual). The thing is, we Filipinos are barely getting our basic needs met—so how are we to look beyond that?

Half of me wish I had my Singaporean friend’s problems—but then again, would I be any happier?

Glimpses of South Thailand

Bird Cages are typical of the South. I love their elaborate designs!







Those white stuff on this little girl's face is baby powder. They make sure traces of white powder are obvious--so people will know they are clean!










I love these elaborate lamposts!! They're along the major streets in Yala.











The Michelin Man knows he needs to "wai" before he can sell tires to the Thai!











This is what I never got to do while in Yala: picnic at the park!!







This is a typical Thai house. It looks like an exotic lamp at night when the yellow lights in the house are lit.










On my way to Hatyai, I noticed that the van I rode had a Muslim talisman dangling from the mirror--and a white Buddhist lei on the aircon vent in front of me (dont know if its just for the scent or for safety like the Muslim talisman in front). Ironically, I just noticed while uploading this pic that a military vehicle happened to be in front of us..for additional safety precaution too, I guess!

Moi enjoying the pine tree-dotted beach in Songkhla, Hatyai province.
















*apologies for the lousy lay-out! I don't know how to put the caption in with the photos properly. Hope you enjoyed the photos, though.

My First Thailand Adventure

This is the Yala Train Station. This is the very first place I arrived at in Yala way back in 2003…by car. Let me explain.

I was scheduled to go to Yala from Bangkok by train and spend a few months in this Southern city of Thailand. The plan was for me to meet my host in Bangkok and make the 16-hour train ride to the South with her. Now if my host had just stuck to the original plan and showed up--that would’ve been pretty straightforward!

“I guess you’ll just have to pray for God to send you a couple of guardian angels!” She said via email…written with an evil grin on her face, I bet!

So with a sympathetic friend in Bangkok accompanying me to the train station, I made my lonesome way to Yala.

“It shouldn’t be a problem,” I thought. “I’ll just come down when I see the sign that says Yala—that is, if the sign’s English print (under the Thai script) is big enough for me to see!”

On the train’s third stop, an elderly Thai man with a ponytail sat in front of me. I knew the key thing about traveling alone is to make friends—if nothing else, for safety’s sake. So I started practicing my Thai with him using my Thai phrasebook. We obviously didn’t have any profound discussions on Gautama Buddha but surprisingly, I was able to figure out (or maybe it was more of his communication skills) that he was a landscape artist on his way home to Sungei Golok, a city further South from Yala.

When evening came, a train staff came to make the beds—flipping out the chairs to make beds was an interesting sight. As I watched them make the beds, a lady who was sitting behind me started chatting with me. I found out that she had been eavesdropping the whole time and was actually an English teacher going home to another Southern city, Narathiwat. She just came back from Bangkok after receiving a “Best Mother of Narathiwat” award from the Queen herself! Wow.

The night on the train was bumpy but comfortable. I could feel the train stop a few times during the night but rumbled on again after a spell. I woke up to a sunny morning and enjoyed the view of the mountains from my window—until I realized that the train hadn’t move for quite a while.

So after saying good morning to my Thai seatmate who slept on the upper bunk, I went to freshen up in a surprisingly clean bathroom and came back to see the Thai English teacher smiling at me beside my bed. She treated me with a cup of coffee and chatted for a while.

Then a guy in a brown uniform came on board and made an announcement in Thai. I turned to my Thai lady friend for translation and found a worried look settling on her face.

“The man says we cannot move on from here, there is a train that got derailed up ahead and blocked the rails. We cannot go through.” She said and immediately grasp my hand and reassured me, “Don’t worry, we can travel together by bus, they are preparing buses for us.”

The funny thing was, I wasn’t at all worried. I somehow knew that I would get to Yala—and this was before I discovered roaming (I know, I’m a late bloomer!).

The man came up again and made another announcement. I presumed it was about the buses. I was right. The lady told me with dismay that the buses were assigned to go to the respective cities. So this meant we had to take different buses.

Again, she fussed over me like an adopted mom and discussed my almost-going-to-doomed-fate with the elderly Thai man. Leave it to God to put me in the hands of a Best Mother awardee!

“Come to Narathiwat with me! Then I will take you to Yala the next day.” She said. I declined even if I knew I could trust her with my life. I just couldn’t not show up when I know my host would be waiting for me at the train station…and I knew I was already a couple of hours late.

Suddenly from across the aisle, a man who was with his girlfriend spoke in Thai. I caught the word “Yala” in the conversation. It turned out that the couple were going to Yala. So the Thai lady “endorsed” the care of a poor Filipino lady traveling alone to this couple—who had zero English.

The Thai lady left her phone number, so with the old man and asked me to keep in touch. I said my thanks and went off following the couple to the bus. The sign on the bus did say ‘YALA’—in Thai script—oh, well.

It was a good thing that the Thai English lady had already left instructions with them that I should be “delivered” to the train station where my host will be waiting for me.

On the bus, again I whipped out my phrase book and practiced my then less-than-meager-Thai. After a few hits and misses, I found out that the guy was Chinese-Thai and could speak Mandarin---Hallelujah!! At least I could tell him to please ask his girlfriend to bring me to the toilet on our next stop!! Thank God for small blessings.

When we got to Yala, he suggested I get down with them in front of their store and then he would bring me to the train station in their car. While in the car with them, I saw the girlfriend using her cellphone and asked to call my host. Imagine my host’s surprise when she answered her phone and heard me on the other side telling her I was coming over to the train station chauffered by my new Thai friends in their nice little car.

After staying in Yala for many months, I hadn’t heard of any other incident of cancelled train trips. I also found out much later that many of the Thai English teachers don’t really speak good English and the Thai lady who was on the train with me was one of those rare finds.

I have traveled alone countless more times after that--on planes, trains and automobiles (Vintage Mercedes, to be specific), to further places, crossing borders and on complicated travel routes. But after that introductory lesson of God’s faithfulness, I have never worried about traveling alone since.

Coming Home

Last night, when the plane touched down, I couldn’t keep a smile from spreading on my face. I’m home again--after two years of being away! I was back to my second home: Thailand!

The fact that I had to face a rather grouchy Thai immigration officer at the Hatyai International Airport didn’t dampen my spirit—hearing his sing-song Thai-accented English was a welcome sound. “Madaam, pleet suhtey in fron op kameraaa. Okee…net pehson pleet!”

As with most of my travels, I’m here in business but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel pleasure, right? So it was great to wake up to a sunny morning in Hatyai. The view from my hotel room wasn’t exactly impressive but after having been through a rainy week in Singapore, it was great to see the sun out.

Memories flood back of my time here and all the wonderful adventures I had to endure-- err--I mean, experienced! I should one day take that trip down memory lane and share with you some of my adventures!

Meanwhile, I’ve traveled down one of the least traveled routes these days, that is, to Yala, deep into South Thailand to visit a colleague. After passing one sleepy military checkpoint, it was a smooth uneventful ride from there. You know you are in “frontier country” when you discover that your roaming has been cut off—for security reasons, the Thai government hasn’t allowed roaming in South Thailand since the unrest started.

It’s really a pity to see people kept away from the South because of the bad news that’s been coming out. To me, it’s still great to be back and I look forward to practicing my rusty Thai—and eating the best Pad Thai, ever, which is just a block from where I’m staying!

Sawadii Kha!!

One Day Blog Silence

Silence can say more than a thousand words.

This day shall unite us all about this unbelievable painful & shocking event and show some respect and love to those who lost their loved ones.

On April 30th 2007, the Blogosphere will hold a One-Day Blog Silence in honor of the victims at Virginia Tech. More then 30 died at the US college massacre.

But it´s not only about them. Many bloggers have responded and asked about all the other victims of our world. All the people who die every day. What about them?

This day can be a symbol of support to all the victims of our world!

All you have to do is spread the word about it and post the graphic on your blog on 30th April 2007. No words and no comments. Just respect, reflect and empathy.

My Second Beau

As I wandered around Singapore in between meetings and the daily downpours, I held back from actually taking my first picture with my Canon. I wanted it to be really WORTH being the first picture to grace my memory card.

The problem was that walking down soggy and crowded Orchard Road wasn’t exactly promising in terms of photo ops—but then I guess it depends what you want to shoot. Now there’s the rub. I wasn’t really sure what I photos I wanted to take!

Until I saw THE WORTHY PHOTO. *Gasp* This is it!! I didn’t really care about angles or how artistic it was going to be—just that THE SUBJECT was already quite a work of art so HE can speak for himself. And the way he stared at from the shop window of C K Tang was irresistible. Sunshine on a cloudy day. *Sigh*

This also inspired me to name my Canon. From that WORTHY PHOTO, I named my Canon, TK—as in Takeshi Kaneshiro, my favorite Japanese. *Grin*

The meetings really drained me of my mental juju so, this is a welcome visual. *Wink*

How I Met My Canon

I had been procrastinating about buying a new camera since my old Olympus is already showing signs of senility. My aim was to get one before I leave for Singapore (tomorrow) and of course, cram artists like me would understand why I would end up buying that camera two days before the trip.

There are “reasonable reasons” for the delay—I had to make sure I stay on my budget and get camera out of it. My internet research showed that the Canon Powershot A550 was the right one for me and my requirements.

Then a friend of mine said she had a churchmate who owns a shop in Quiapo and the owner can just give the camera to her at church and I can just send the payment through her. All these sans the hassle of going to Quiapo. But time passed and I was kept waiting by the shop. I called often and they kept promising that their stock would come…”call again tomorrow..maybe it will come tomorrow…blah blah blah.”

Until I decided to just go for the lower-end one which they had on stock, a Canon A430, which was just a 4 megapixel camera. Since I was happy with my 2 megapixel one, so I thought that 4 megapixel should be okey. I can settle for that if the Canon A550 (7 megapixel) one wasn’t available. I know I should check other features as well--but I’m not really savvy so I judge cameras by their megapixels!

For one reason or another, I didn’t manage to make it to Quiapo. The one day I decided to finally go, I was told not to because of that hostage-taking incident near Manila City Hall! Of all days..!

With my Singapore trip breathing down my neck, and checking out the net and realizing that Quiapo is still cheaper than Singapore, I finally took time off work yesterday—at 1pm, a slow time for people, and went off to Quiapo from my office in Commonwealth. In less than an hour, I was in Quiapo (it’s a miracle!). I made my way to Hidalgo Street and decided to just check out each of the camera shops. Nothing seemed to click—not even when I was prepared to settle for less.

Then I remember a tip from blogpal Abaniko about a camera shop called Mayer Photo. I found it tucked unobtrusively in between shops and almost blocked by fruit stalls in front of it. The owner was Chinese and quarreling with his wife when I came in—anyway I took a shot at asking about the Canon A550 and the owner said there’s no more stock and that I should go for the Canon A560 instead.

Oh, I didn’t know about the A560—so much for my supposedly meticulous research! I asked how much it was and he said PhP11,000.

Hmmm, I thought, I brought PhP10,000 with me and made a quick assessment (by memory) that I might have an extra P1,000 tucked somewhere, so I should probably get this one instead of the lower-end A430.

Anyway, being Chinese, I am obligated, culturally, to haggle. I haggled in Chinese and asked if he could give me a discount…I was actually trying to squeeze a word in between the on-going argument between the owner and his wife *snicker.* So he turned to me and said, “Okey, P10,500.”

The shoplady stared at him seemingly surprised at what her boss’ said. So I guess I did get a good deal.

I decided to negotiate with the owner again and asked if I could get a higher MB memory card with my camera for P11,000 and again, to the shoplady’s surprise, he said yes!

So then I fished out my money—tucked in different pockets—in case some resident Quiapo snatcher not on his mid-day siesta took interest in me—I found out I had exactly P10,500--not P11,000! Oops. So of course the memory card had to wait. By the time I finished paying up, I only had enough left to get home!

But I’m a happy camper.

Here’s hoping I get good photos in Singapore!

Inspired...?

* should've been posted yesterday afternoon at 6pm...long story!

It’s 5:30 pm and I should still be working, even if it’s past office hours. But then how do you keep a blogger from expressing herself? I might just burst.

I have a ton of work to finish before I go off to Singapore for a five-day consultation next week. The thing is, the stuff I need to do this week is homework for the meetings in Singapore.

I actually have more than 3 months' worth of lead time to do my homework for the meetings...but there’s one crucial prerequisite for me to do any kind of work effectively: LAST MINUTE INSPIRATION.

Or, you can call it a good dose of panic-induced adrenaline.

Whatever it is called, I find myself so dependent to this “drug.” Does it make my work better? My colleagues say I’m efficient and I do deliver the goods on time so to speak, but of course, Jiminy Cricket who has taken up permanent residency in my head, would shake his head and say, “You can do so much better if you put more time and careful thought to it.”

Alas, Jiminy is probably better off with Pinocchio than with me.

Now I’ve expressed myself…I'd better get back to work before I lose my inspiration.

(Un)Common Courtesy

"How are you?"
"Thank you!"
"Please..."
"You're welcome."
"Excuse Me."
"I’m sorry."

These are words we utter absentmindedly or casually…or not at all.

Lately, I find these words uttered less often than should be. Manners seem to be going down the drain these days. How sad!

I wonder why?

What is so difficult about saying the above words?

I remember once when I was having a really bad cold. I got a call from a friend I haven’t heard from in ages. I asked him/her, “How are you?” Most of the time, I mean it when I say it. As the friend went on to chatter about news of his/her life—I coughed and sneezed through my “uhuh’s” and “really’s.” When I put down the phone minutes later, I realized that this friend never even bothered to ask me how I was—or if I was sick!

On the other hand,

I helped another friend through a rough transition period. She pulled through and went on to do a lot of things that made me proud to be her friend. After some time I got a greeting card from her. She wrote “You were there from the very start. Thank you, it meant a lot to me.” No big fanfare, just simple words. Yet they warmed my heart.

Let me set the record straight, it’s not that I want people to shower my path with roses or fall prostrate with gratitude every time I do something for them or talk to them. Far from it. I don’t mind helping people out. Really, I don’t.

But a simple “thank you” would be nice. Nicer especially nowadays when its fast becoming an uncommon courtesy.

But maybe….life is just too hard these days. Maybe we’re just too stressed out to bother with courtesy. Maybe we’re just too worried about ourselves. Maybe we just need to expend all our energy internally to survive this rat race called life…

So, then..

Wouldn’t a bit of courtesy help us become less stressed, less worried and make life less of a rat race?

Anyway, I can’t control other people’s behavior.

But I can control mine!

So…to all who visit my blog:

Please do leave a comment on any of my posts if its convenient for you.
I am sorry if I have made comments in my blog that may have hurt anyone of you.
Thank you for dropping by my blogsite.
You are always welcome to visit.

Have a great day!

To Keep Me Sane

I’m pausing from doing email stuff and looking up at the view of blue ocean mellowed by the rays of the setting sun, framed by green rustling leaves of trees standing just below my bedroom window.

What a moment to freeze-frame.

But I guess time marches on. For now, I am pleased that I can enjoy fresh cool sea breeze here in Calapan, Mindoro—far from the madding Manila crowd, far from the choking pollution, far from Karaoke-mad neighbors.

Tomorrow, I look forward to waking up one last morning to this dazzling view of the sea. Then its time to pack up and leave.

Part of me would love to stay on in this quaint place in Calapan. But I know that this feeling is fleeting, I know for a fact that I am a city girl at heart…that I (mysteriously) thrive in the smoggy, noisy, in-your-face culture of Manila. That after a while in an idyllic place like this, my feet would itch, my soul would grow restless and I would actually miss those hair-raising rides in cockroach-infested buses. I would miss the air-conditioned, food-aroma-infused, never-have-a-moment’s-peace, sardine-packed malls. Don’t ask me why, I’ve given up figuring that out myself.

Meanwhile, I’m just happy to be in an idyllic place like this for my regular ration of sanity.

What keeps you sane?

Dear J,

The first time I met you, I was impressed by you and all the things you’ve done. In fact, I was so bowled over that I committed myself to a relationship with you. I thought that everything you did was so awesome and made so much sense. My admiration for you deepened all the more as I read your love letters.

I enjoyed the relationship I had with you—more so because of the many things you did for me, and the words you whispered to me.

The problem was, you were more committed to the relationship than I was. I wanted to have "more" than what you gave me. Now as I look back I realized that what I wanted to explore and enjoy outside my relationship with you turned out to be a poor substitute of what you offered me. I was like a child enjoying the muddy shore when I could be enjoying the cool inviting waters just a few steps away. How stupid of me.

As I hurt you again and again with my betrayals, your love never wavered. You waited for me, hushed me and comforted me when I come running back into your arms, crying from self-inflicted wounds.

I often wonder how you could love me so. Why don’t you just give up on this relationship? How could you continue to help me, put your hopes in me, trust me to be faithful to you when I have betrayed you again and again? How can your love be so strong, so tenacious?

But even as I struggle to be faithful to you, even as I fail at times, even as I get back up again and continue returning your awesome love with my own feeble and sorry version, I see myself change. I see how your love has subtly empowered me, cleansed me, healed me and helped me to go on.

There are still times I wonder if I should just let go of this relationship. I am no good for you…I have hurt you too much and loved you too little. But whenever I feel guilt prying my fingers from holding onto yours, I find myself unable, nay, unwilling to let go. Who can take your place? I have no one else if I do not have you.

And so I cling on to you, especially in moments when I feel like giving up and letting go, I cling on. I cling on to you, your whispers of love, your promises and your strength.

Thank you, Beloved, that one day there will be no more guilt, no more hurts, no more betrayals. One day I can love you back with that perfect love you so deserve.

Basking in your love,
G.

McFrustration

Last night I went out for coffee with two friends and we started talking about food traditions, like how some people must have a coke with their burger, or how my friend’s daily dinner ritual would be potato chips, and a sandwich.

It reminded me all the more of a month-long frustration: I haven’t had my McSpaghetti meal yet! This morning I stared at a bunch of crumpled McDonald Meal coupons which I've tucked in my bag for ages, and with its expiry date being tomorrow, I am preparing my heart to say goodbye to them—especially to the McSpaghetti Meal coupon.

My hectic schedule plus the fact that the nearest McDonald’s is under renovation has been the reason why I haven’t been able to fulfill my food tradition/ritual this month. Tonight a friend of mine is taking me out for a post-birthday treat in a fancy restaurant—so obviously McDonald’s is out of the question—I don’t think it would make any sense to her if I asked to eat at McDonalds instead! I must really be desperate if I prefer McSpaghetti over a fancy dinner!

But I believe we all have our own tiny food rituals or traditions that make our day/week/month complete. I guess I will have to accept the fact that my March will be just a little bit incomplete…life’s like that, I guess.

So what’s your food ritual?

Turning a Year Older

Turning a year older…

Doesn’t mean I’m any wiser. I’ve learned a couple of things along the way, but I have also been stupid enough to repeat the same mistakes as well. I’ve known friends and colleagues younger than me who are far wiser.

Doesn’t mean I have loads of experiences. Again, I know of people who have gone through so much more than one should in a lifetime. I hear their stories and am amazed and humbled by their courage, strength and tenacity.

Doesn’t mean I have mellowed down. In fact, far from it. Getting older means I have a somewhat clearer perspective of life. I have found my niche. I have discovered where my passion lies. Doesn’t knowing all these make you pursue your dreams with more determination?

Doesn’t mean I am better at handling losses. Having said goodbye so many times in life has not made it any easier. But I have learned to keep my palms open and not clutch at relationships. Friends come and go, and I do the same to them—come and go, I mean. I have learned to simply enjoy the time given to me and my friends.

Doesn’t mean I have less to learn. In many cases, I seldom get to say, “Been there, done that.” Each experience, no matter how similar, is unique and so I discover new things to learn about me, about life, about God.

Doesn’t mean that I will jump on any unfortunate single man that crosses my path. In fact, the older one gets—the higher one’s standard tends to be—especially after having seen a lot of good and bad marriages and especially after knowing oneself better.

Doesn’t mean that I consider kid’s stuff beneath me. I can assure you that my friend’s 8-year-old son can have as much fun playing with me as he would friends his age, and I consider that a wonderful thing.

Doesn’t mean you can’t teach an old dog new tricks...well, depends on the old dog! But as for me…this one-year-old blog is Exhibit A.

Doesn’t mean I have become a disciplined, organized and solid, responsible person. You just need to come and look at my wee little house and my office desk. BUT this is not for lack of trying…

Doesn’t mean I've stopped planning about the future and just taking in what comes along. I still have a lot of plans and dreams—some have been fulfilled and so have not. I have also learned not to fret about things I have no control of, and to take them in stride. But I continue to plan, to pursue my dreams and in so doing, be a good steward of this one more year that God has given me.

Puh-Lizzz...

This is fast becoming a really irritating pattern.

Everytime I move to another place, somebody would eventually throw a knowing look at me and say, “Wow...who knows, you might meet your Mr. Right there..”

And now that I am planning another move, well, surprise surprise, the question pops up again. Sigh.

Hope springs eternal in the bosoms of those who want to marry me off.

The thing is, marriage is good and I’m honest enough to myself to admit that it is not exactly the farthest thing in my mind—but neither is it the foremost.

My life’s been really good. I get to do so many things that I would never have been able to do, had I remembered to get married in my 20’s. Those of my married friends who want to marry me off actually see this, and know this. Yet it seems like unless a single girl settles down, she is still looked upon as a somewhat incomplete and unfulfilled individual. I feel sorry that people feel that way—and sorrier for those singletons who actually believe this to be true.

So to my friends, I know you mean well, but the fact is I AM well—and if the right person does come along, hurray to that—but if not, I still have cause to celebrate life and all the amazing things that God has deigned to bless me with.

Pinch Me!

OH JOY!!!!

I just got an email this morning that I have been granted a 50% scholarship for a one-year Masters program I applied for in the UK.

Gasp! Can't believe this is happening!

When I first thought of going back to school for further studies, it seemed like an appealing dream but not really something that I thought would actually happen--I know, weird weird.

Anyway, when my colleagues and friends asked me about the application, I wasn't really all that excited, or even positive that I would get the scholarship.

To be honest, I wouldn't have minded if I didn't get the scholarship--because that would mean another major move for me (I have moved a minimum of 6 times in 6 years) and the Gypsy also knows to get (sick and) tired.

But obviously, God thinks laziness would be an unbelievably poor excuse for not granting this UK schooling.

Now that I got the news (a month earlier than promised), I am beside myself.

How does blogging from the UK sound? WheeeeeeEEEEeee!

Better than Coffee

"YaaaAAAAAaaaH!
SwaappAAAk!
Thoghug!
AaaaaAAAArrrrrggghhh!
Kill him! Kill him!!
RoooAAARrrrRR!"

Now Showing in the aircon bus I hopped on this morning was obviously NOT an Air Supply Concert.

It's Jet Li taking on 4 thugs in a fighting match.

Of course, he allowed himself to be beaten up, left right center, just for the fun of it, before that intent "Grrr...now's my turn..." look comes into his almost expressionless face and he clobbers every single one of them.

Gore galore.

Sure beats coffee.

Five Random Facts About Moi

I was tagged by Beng centuries ago, but never got around to make the list—there’s just too many odd things about me so I had to sift through them (and make sure I don’t scare people away!)

1. I’m an almost-UP Fine Arts student. After graduating from Ateneo de Davao, I came to Manila to check out the supposedly greener pastures. While waiting for a job, I checked out UP Fine Arts and wondered if I could get in for a second Bachelor’s degree. So I went and drew sketches and whatever the entrance exam demanded. A few weeks later, I found out I passed! But by then I already got myself a job, so I chose to earn rather than spend!

2. I spent one memorable month in Nepal. I thoroughly enjoyed hiking up the Himalayan range (Tibetan side), playing with Nepali kids, warm showers under gazillions of stars (some shower stalls were roofless), wrapping myself up in my warm sleeping bag of down feathers, sipping ginger milk tea, eating vegetarian food (dhal baat) and apple pancake every day during the trek and playing UNO cards with our porters under a candle light, making it all the way up to 4,000 meters above sea level, and greeted not only by snow-capped mountains but also by a San Miguel Beer sign. (Go figure!)

3. I bring sachets of tomato ketchup wherever I go—courtesy of McDonalds, Jollibee, KFC, etc. That is, I love smothering ketchup on my sunny side ups, anything fried, on my stir-fried noodles, burgers, etc. Sometimes the places I go to don’t have ketchup, so I bring them along—in case of emergency. It has worked well for me. Hehehe.

4. My colleagues suspect I have dyslexia. Symptoms? Well...I’m embarrassingly slow at telling time from watches with hands, (analog watches--is that you call them?) that all my wristwatches are digital. I’m also bad at identifying the push/pull sign on glass doors, or the close/open symbols in elevators and…the piece de resistance…I can’t tell my right from my left.

5. When I was a kid, I used to love reading Tagalog comics. I would go to the nearest comics rental stall and rent and read the whole day—sitting with the neighborhood tambays (loafers) and tricycle drivers who were as addicted as I was. This is why my grades in my Filipino subjects were always good. Ahem.

I guess I can’t really tag anyone else, I might just be the last remaining blogger who hasn’t done this meme! Anyway, thinking through this was fun!

You Know You've Had Too Much Coffee If...(Part Two)

You don't need a hammer to pound in nails.
You don't get mad, you get steamed.
You don't tan, you roast.
You eat the can along with the canned goods.
You have a picture of your coffee mug on your coffee mug.
You have to watch videos on fast forward mode.
You haven't blinked since...since...you haven't blinked. Period.
You help your dog chase its tail.
You name your cats Cream and Sugar.
You introduce your spouse as your coffeemate.
You short out motion detectors.
You ski uphill.
You sleep with your eyes open.
You speak perfect Arabic without ever taking a lesson.
You speed walk in your sleep.
You spend every vacation visiting Maxwell House.
You think being called a drip is a compliment.
Your first-aid kit contains two pints of coffee with an I.V. hookup.
You coffee mug is insured by Lloyds of London.
Your life's goal is to amount to a hill of beans.
Your lips are permanently stuck in the sipping position.
Your nervous twitch registers on the Richter Scale.
Your only source of nutrition comes from Sweet and Low.
You're so wired, you pick up the AM radio.
You've built a miniature city out of little plastic stirrers.
You think CPR stands for Coffee Provides Resuscitation.