Jan. 1, 2011 - 10lbs. lighter and the rock of Gibraltar on my finger
Jan. 1, 2012...
The ensemble and look is prepared (thank you Youtube for all those makeup and hair tutorials and to Ruth for tonight's bold dress. I'll try not have a nip-slip whilst wearing it, hahaha! =)
2011 was a year of many dreams fulfilled.
Daydreams and fantasies are never as vivid as you conjure them up in your head. They're never as detailed, as concise, as real. There isn't any room for in-betweens when it comes fantasies. None of the trials and the troubles. None of the color painted by sorrow and grief and anger and forgiveness and "I'm sorries" and "I love yous." So when the day[s] finally came... when I'd have a home of my own... a job that fulfills me creatively and where I've earned the true respect of colleagues, a husband who is such a wonderful person and provider... a daughter who's growing more and more beautiful and brilliant by the day... and family and friends, both old and new, who show me why I'm NOT missing out on not having a Facebook (hehe), I can honestly say... that my dreams, my childhood's faiths and desires, my very fantasies... don't hold a candle to the realities that happened in 2011.
So with that (because I have to go to the salon in a bit)... I bid 2011 a heartfelt farewell. Thank you for being one very good year.
Oh 2012, you know I'm comin' for ya. Here's to wedding plans, re-tiled bathrooms, and a successful online show (and more free alkie =).
But just in case the Mayans got it right and next year really is our final year on earth...
Now you know what I'll be doing this holiday break...
Drinking beer and emoting to Motown.
Merry Christmas to me!!! *giggles with glee*
Can't wait to pop these in my awesome freezer til it hits below zero.
Oh Hello World! And Hello 2012!
....
Thank you to ADBM and to MCA Music Inc. for the lovely gifts and to all the other PR companies and clients who've sent gifts my way. It feels so nice to see Christmas time happening on my desk when I get in in the morning. I realize that all the work I put in the past year paid off. And that makes me feel real good. =)
Originally, we had decided on getting married on October 26, 2012 - one day after what would be our 3rd year anniversary... because it was a Friday... and we wanted to party... guiltlessly. I even signed that date up on Bridalbook.ph the moment we became engaged. Had the countdown going and errrthang. I was ready to have me a crazy "Last Friday Night" type of Friday night for a wedding.
But wouldn't you know. As we were blocking off the date, we learn that the 26th of October in 2012... is a holiday. (Eid al-Adha)
So we'll be getting married [again] on our 3rd year anniversary after all.
.....
On another note...
I know some people are still a bit surprised with the "quickness" of our plans. People who've been in their relationships for much longer. Much "steadier" couples who choose to take their time, enjoy themselves, do what they gotta do. (Cuz god help you if you can actually enjoy anything anymore once you're married. *scratches head*)
Now I don't know if it's awestruck amazement or just sheer cynicism...
But for all of my years of experience and "wisdom" on the matter... I find that all I can say (to those who find the speedy turn of events overwhelming), simply but profoundly,
"When you know, you know... babe." (Yes, I say that with term of endearment included because I want to appear all-knowing and almost condescending like "bow down before my wisdom, peasant" hahaha)
Play Tuesdays at Attica where I made a rare cameo appearance and lo and behold, I see my cousin/UPCAT tutorials classmate, Tibbz... Gadgets Magazine's latest editorial addition and newest face in the tech scene. =)
Though my poor heart still aches at missing my chance at copping one (or two even had I not been a lazy ass)...
You are worth more than all the iPhone 4s's in the whole wide world.
Of course...
It's the alcohol's fault. *smacks forehead*
Reminder for 2012:
***Will not miss a single tech event I'm invited to no matter how small or seemingly insignificant and hassling. Even if it's held at that gosh-forsaken Resorts World and I have to miss a lot of other parties and deprive people of my awesome presence. Lucrative work opportunites will have to take precedent over random drinking sessions. (Sorry Waffle, it's nothing personal.)
I've never had a reason to dislike drinking... even when I was super drunk and I was super hurting... until now. (But I know I won't dislike it for too long. Just need to learn to prioritize better.)
....
But on a side note...
One of my more active (and smarter) colleagues copped himself one... and though my envy had turned more into a bitter nonchalance after a few minutes of self-loathing, I was touched to hear that he would be giving it to his sister who is with child. I think that's real sweet. And in a way... God gives those who deserve it... or need it most. Of course, my boss got one too. She was the one who told me of my misfortune... and almost completely ruined my day. Then again, I guess she needs one more than I do. Besides... I'm not really want of anything anyway... except for a parking slot at my condo. Maybe our bldg can give away free parking slots.
I'm the best sour-graper ever.
....
Oh and if ever I'm coming off like some tasteless and tacky materialistic b*tch with this what with the Sendong victims (and all the other victims of this world and the ones much closer to home, the ones you see just outside your car when you're stuck in traffic but ignore) ---- I'm sorry. I'm human and I'm petty. And I'm not afraid to own up to it.
Join the GOOD BLOG AWARDS and be rewarded for giving the people something GOOD. (Because that's the way it should be. =)
Don't worry, it's open to all amateurs with a written, photo, or video blog so don't get all apprehensive and think your stuff isn't "good enough." Hell, I'd join my nonsensical sh*t if I could... but I can't cuz Gadgets is sponsoring it. =)
Been checking out wedding shoes and found these lovelies:
Christian Louboutin Pigalle Blue Glitter Pumps
Of course, they're not exactly cheap and so I decided to do something I haven't done in the longest time...
I got up from my desk, walked to National Bookstore, and bought me some blue and black glitter... and a paint brush.
When I got home, I decided to ArtZooka the shit out of a pair of pumps Pao bought me.
And this is what a little arts and crafts time can do:
I plan to rock them real soon, perhaps at some tame Christmas party where I don't get too drunk lest I scratch up my shoes til all the glitter comes off. Then again, I suppose I should put them to the test.
Maybe next week. I need to detox. And I miss Zumba and my Reeboks.
As a parent, you're never quite sure what advice to give your kids when people treat them badly or say mean things to them. Sure there's the whole "just ignore em, be the bigger, more understanding bit" or "just punch em in the face"... alas... I am a mother who believes in the power of discourse... and just really good comebacks.
....
Her cousins called her disgusting once... for eating something, I'm not sure. They're not the nicest of kids either. So I told her, anyone who says nasty things about her to comeback by simply saying, "Well you have an ugly personality."
AND SNAP.
Like literally, she should snap her fingers and her head and just dust her shoulders off cuz people who talk shit... ARE SHIT. and only shit talkers have a very dirty "inside." Then again, what do I know, I'm a shit-talker too, not gonna deny it, but at least... I get the last word and what I say is TRUTH.
However...
Despite my love for intelligent discourse... my daughter seems to have another type of comeback in mind albeit a more gruesome and violent one.
Ain't nothing like the power of self-defense, y'all. =P
What you can do with your husband's super over-sized polo.
Turn it into a dress.
Look nothing like one of the boys.
But be just as naughty as the rest of em. And turn into a happy little party animal... blazed out of her wits.
--The End--
[Team Manila always throws a --painfully-- memorable Christmas party full of FUNNY *SS SHIT. Love love my husband... hands down... the BEST person to... uhm... skyrocket with.]
A lot of them are just pains in the *ss who you end up helping more than they help you. Sometimes, it almost seems like you take em in just to baby-sit them until their 150hours are up. But then there are a few who you end up "baby-ing" and nurturing... so that when they leave, you know happiness and success will follow them.
And you can only hope that they remember you when you see them around, doing their own thing, becoming little bosses themselves...
And smile when they do. Because at least you know you didn't completely f*ck up these children's futures by making them do stupid, non work-related things like [stalking my ex's ex-girlfriends and harassing them online]... on top of the more serious magazine work stuff too. *smiles innocently*
Today... is a testament of that love (and the whole not completely f*cking them up bit).
PS. Ninya, I still have you and Chad's picture on my corkboard. *hugs* Oh and... it's not lifestyle editor, it's ASSOCIATE EDITOR. Tell your stupid robot to get it right. Hahahaha!
Because my shopaholic little sister traded her Hong Kong flight to come to Manila tomorrow. (Yes Mika, you deserve my vacation leave for Friday. I'm gonna need the day-off anyway. =)
I just came from a meeting today. Like just now. Preparing articles to usher the 2012 issues in. And I realized, just now, that sometimes work can get a little hard. A little boring. A little too tedious. Seems like I’ve been doing this shit for way too long (5years) and yet… I can never seem to remember what I did or wrote about the month before. And people can be so annoying. Their laziness. Incompetence. Or whatever other inadequacy you notice and rant the shit out of. Good thing these media events serve alcohol so I can knock back my woes and sorrows... then try to stay sober enough to write about it the next day.
And then everything becomes a problem. Like this annoying little roadblock where you either wanna turn back and take another route or run right thru it without a thought of the damage it’ll cause.
But I also realized, just now, that I guess… those things shouldn’t make you forget HOW FUCKING AWESOME YOU REALLY ARE. Seriously. Like, if you’re good at what you do, don’t let that shit get to you. Don’t let it keep you from playing your A-game. DON’T USE OTHER PEOPLE’S SHORTCOMINGS AS AN EXCUSE TO FAIL. (My daddy taught me that. And that’s probably one of the best pieces of advice he’s ever given my sisters and I growing up --- next to the one about not having to “clean blood splattered on the wall” but I’ll save that piece of wisdom for another time.)
Now I’m not mad or anything. It just sorta dawned on me you know? Being around someone who’s been annoying me lately and having to work with this person and act all civil and what not ---- and I fucking realize how good I am at what I do and how it just comes off so naturally aaaaaand on top of that "down to business type seriousness" I'm also pretty good at making myself and other people laugh. Turning annoyance into one big joke. Or better yet, turning problems into opportunities… to be better. To showcase my skills. To express my ideas, defend them wholly and unabashedly. And to get up out that meeting knowing full well, “YOU RUN THIS SHOW, BITCH.” Now stop whining.
It's the first week of December and I suppose given a lack of drama to blog about, I decided to just fill the spaces with daily entries of "Why I Love" whatever and whoever. Consider it a personal reminder of why God is good and why everyday of living and loving is a blessing (also considering we may only have a year until the end of the world but I don't wanna get into that. =)
So today...
Why I love... my husband. (and I'm gonna have alot of reasons for my husband along with Psyche and the rest of my family and friends and it may get cheesy to a point but I don't care.)
I love my husband because...
He came home from Morocco lastnight and came bearing gifts: Argan beauty oil (not to be confused with "Agora" oil but I got confused anyway and told him to hook me up with some of that "Agora" oil and so he looked for "Agora" oil and people over at Morocco were looking at him like "Whuuuuuuut????")
And what I love love love the most:
Boom. A f*cking Yoga DVD... with a testimonial from Jennifer Aniston (cuz that was the clincher).
That just about saved me 5k a month on yoga. =)
And of course, hotel toiletries and airplane freebies ---- my fave. =)
And in all honesty, aside from all the Kiehl's anti-wrinkle stuff I put on my face... it's Psyche who keeps me young. And I remember how I'm not just her mother. I'm her friend. And real friends play "wedding party/reception barbie with robin thicke playing in the background" and put makeup on... even if they have nowhere to go.
Well, all I'm saying is that I want to look back and say that I did the best I could while I was stuck in this place. Had as much fun as I could while I was stuck in this place. Played as hard as I could while I was stuck in this place... Dogged as many girls as I could while I was stuck in this place.
- Dawson, Dazed and Confused.
And just look at Matthew Mcconaughey! The coolest I've ever seen him. =P
Despite the recent "unnecessary stress" of work (operative term: unnecessary), today I finally learned to understand that truly, the best revenge (or to sound less evil and vindictive), the best way to get back at anyone who frustrates the living shit out of you... is to be successful. In other words, TO BE SO FUCKING GOOD THAT IT HURTS. And to do that you have to ALWAYS do more than what is expected of you... even if it means carrying more weight than you have to. To do all of that, happily, willingly, and un-begrudgingly... with a sweet, sweet smile on your face. To still be mindful to respect your colleagues and to not be stingy with praise. To always say "thank you" and "good job" even if saying it sounds weird saying it so often. To criticize tactfully and objectively and to include suggestions (not demands) on improvement. People seriously need a lesson on tact sometimes, it's crazy.
You can totally rant after work whilst downing a few below zeros but come the next day, you keep that smile albeit hungover smile on your face and do it all again.
Sun Tzu said it best: “Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win.”
Zumba + Weights + Healthy diet = Compensation for previous night's revelry, merriment, and intemperance. (Life is all about "balance," right? There just ain't no other way to live. =)
That... and a delightful disposition. To be a breath of fresh air for those around you. And to laugh... from the gut. Like a frikkin' hyena.
Alas....
I've become one of those girls... as I maintain to continue looking 21 until I'm 31 and to ALWAYS look 10 years younger than my actual age. =P (And I totally idolize 50-year old women doing crazy pilates like it ain't no thang. Makes me feel all old and icky and un-stretchy.)
on the floor.
my 4-year old kicks which I only use NOW
enjoying a personal "savasana" after every gut-wrenching crunch
I ain't gonna front... but I was always his favorite, hahahaha!
......
Been reading up on "Filipino Weddings" and sharing them via YM with my sister set out to have her church wedding shortly after me...
And I came upon this:
The Wedding Rites
The Bride and her Father marches to the altar. The Groom meets them, and all three will face the Priest/Minister. The question of who gives the bride away is asked, to which the bride's Father answers, "I do" . He then gives her daughter's hand to the groom, after which he takes his designated seat in the front row with his wife.
I think this is a highly underrated part of the wedding ceremony. Shit. I'd probably be ballin' to my daddy saying crazy shit like "Noooooo daddy don't let me go!!!!" Pao would have to pry me from his clutches. But not too much, though, because I like the guy I'm marrying. And my daddy likes him, too. Not just cuz I like him. =P
And this is why I think my dad is not only the SMARTEST guy I know, he is also the TOUGHEST. A real fucking bad-ass. Because even though his "gangstah" reputation precedes him, he was able to raise four incredibly beautiful, intelligent, good-natured, and kind-hearted girls despite the odds, the hardships, the trials and the troubles, (and basically, the sheer insanity of having to raise FOUR f*cking GIRLS... not excluding our mother, haha)... and has the sublimely divine grace to give our delicate hands away... to another man (who, in our "daddy's little girly eyes," won't really ever be quite like our daddy... but they'll try anyway.)
The standard song to create a system of power on elementary school buses everywhere. - According to its FB page.
One of the things I picked up in Jersey along with the accent. (And for the nth time, people from Jersey don't say JOISEY so stop saying it like that as if I'm supposed to get it. See NJ Accent.)
The only cheer I know... to bequeath to my daughter.
Peanut butter reesey cup Mess with me, I'll kick your butt Bam bam, choo choo train Watch the ladies do their thang I can't! Why not? I can't! Why not? My back hurts, my bra's too tight My booty shakes to the left To the right To the left right left right Don't sweat it, don't sweat it Don't sweat it, don't sweat it My name is ________ na na na I'm cool and fine na na na I make you cry when I punch you in the eye I say a lottie, a dottie, a lottie dottie disco party
In the event of our untimely and premature passing, I told him about my conditions and he told me his.
A living will, if you will.
So in case he forgets, here is what I'd like:
He and Psyche can have everything that's to my name. No ands ifs buts about it.
I'd like to be cremated with only a small, brief viewing for close family and friends. I'd like my organs harvested and donated. I want my ashes to be kept in a pretty little box or container. Not an urn or anything that looks creepy and has "death" written all over it. (Pao suggested to keep me in a "happy horse" which I think is a great idea) --- Oh and I just thought about his now --- if my ashes are gonna be kept on some shelf inside the house, it has to be beside an AWESOME picture of me... preferably a crazy fun beauty pic of me.
Maybe this:
Dang I'm cute
If ever he and the kids live in a bigger home with a garden, I'd like my ashes buried in the dirt and to grow flowers in/with/on top of it. Then, he is to tell the kids that this was my way to live on forever, so that I may see them grow up and be happy. (Again, I don't want none of that creepy shit, saying "Ooooh your grandmother's there, she's gonna haunt you" shit). I don't want my family to be scared of me. I'm just ash and dirt... with my energy used to give life to the garden.
Now even though I wouldn't really care what happened with my ashes and earthly possessions (nor would I know, duh, cuz I'm dead), I still don't advise on the whole big funeral thing with the prayers and stuff. I mean, it's ok to pray, I guess. Whatever will help ease the pain since I'm such a miss-able person and all. Not too worried about where my soul is going because... energy can neither be created nor destroyed and that's really the only thing I know for sure. But if I were to have one last act of vanity (cuz that's really all I see a funeral is, I'm sorry, just an opinion) even in death, I'd like my family and close friends to write a letter about how much I meant to them and how my existence mattered. Then I'd like those letters to be given to my children, to be given to their children. I'd like my memory kept... and shared.
That's all. =)
Now I don't quite know how that's all gonna work out since my husband's idea is to mix my ashes in with his (like crazy shake the urn) so that we remain one forever. THEN our ashes can be put in the garden.
Our happy little garden... of dead people. Hahahahaha!
Ben: (swivels chair and turns to me) Mitch? Me: Yeah? Ben: Are you busy? Me: Kinda. (as I'm searching for unrelated work stuff on the net and totally procrastinating from actually writing for the magazine) Ben: Really? Me: (peers over glasses) Why, what is it? Ben: Can I ask you a question? Me: What? Ben: What do you like better: Starbucks or Coffeebean? Me: (takes a moment as I'm a serious ponder-er when it comes to trivial questions) Well... I like that Coffeebean has that card thingy and you can gain points to get free coffee and stuff. And I like their Chai Tea Latte. But I like Starbucks' Espresso Frappucino 'cause that wakes the shit out of me. But I don't really go to either of those places. So if I had to choose, I'd say Starbucks, only because of their Espresso Frappucino and because that shit serves a real purpose. But I'd never pay for that much for coffee. Shit. I lived in the province for God's sake. My coffee was always 3-in-1 or the Nescafe Frothe --- WHICH THEY PHASED OUT. And I used to buy Coffeemate Vanilla and Hazelnut to make my coffee taste good. THEY PHASED THAT OUT TOO. Fuckers. I think they figured I was the only one drinking that shit. (Obviously, I went into an entire, unsolicited monologue.) Ben: Ok thanks. Me: Why'd you ask? Ben: Oh I just wanted to cross out the things NOT to get you [for Christmas.]
"Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the overcompensations for misery. And, of course, stability isn't nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt. Happiness is never grand."
- The Controller, taken from Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
........
That explains the less dramatic and angst-ridden writing.
When I'd reached that paragraph in the book, it took me into this virtual warp of memories, these pictures of moments in my head of Starbucks planners and little pink spiral notepads and napkins and old receipts and college cattleya --- any paper-type medium I could pour the overflowing contents of my heart to relieve me of the seething cauldron burning, bubbling inside of me with the gush of my pen. And I, who was always hurting (with perhaps an exaggerated flair for the melodramatic), was always writing.
I never thought I could be truly happy unless I burned. (Or maybe, as my husband would used to tell me whenever I would used to go into these "fuck my life, fuck love, fuck-this-shit" ramblings and episodes, in not so many words, I was probably just happy being miserable.)
But I was miserable, nonetheless.
So I wrote and I wrote and I typed and I was always so angry and frustrated and "angsty" (what most people would say, really). O the pain! O the agony! Woe is me! <-------- Life always had that ring to it. Even when my I had first began dating my husband (and when I look at him now and even when I look back, I honestly don't think I could've been any luckier to have found such a good guy. And I mean, real good. Not nasty good (sometimes it's nasty =) but like good with like a good heart who provides me with the good life, you know?), even when I KNEW he was good for me... I still found reasons not to want it. To push him away. To be disgusted by the gross and foreign display of goodness like being good was like having leprosy.
And then finally, after about a year of turbulence and mostly him dealing with "my shit" like a fucking soldier, I postulated, much to my initial chagrin, that:
In order to be content, you had to be boring.
And so when happiness kicked in, it took it out on my writing. (My husband told me once, whenever he'd read my earlier articles for Gadgets Magazine, it seemed I was much more passionate then. If they did seem "more passionate," it was probably because I was still fresh from college and I was carrying my first child ergo I was doubly high on life and ideals and the whole inward belief that I wanted to write passionately... even if it was technology!"
You couldn't really tell that passion was really anxiety from having landed a job in an industry I barely knew, let alone was underqualified for, and after only 2 months of learning the ropes, in comes unexpected love child with almost complete stranger who, for all of my intelligence and reason and rhyme, was never going to be the one for me.
And I had to live like that.
But before I make this long story longer than it already is... basically, my real point or my conclusion/disposition about this whole happiness thing is that... well... people shouldn't be afraid to be happy you know? And people shouldn't be confined to this one definition of passion, that it had to be aggressive and sobbing and angry and "angst-ridden." I look at that warp of memories and notes and poems and journal entries and they all seem so... vague and... unimportant. Not necessarily worthless because I'm thankful for the experience and how they were able to work themselves out to give me the opportunity to learn and grow from them. But compared to what I have now, those creative little gems seem so miniscule. I don't know where I got the emotion and the energy to blow them up more than I really had to. But maybe... I just needed to implode first (like how the Big Bang has to happen before quiet subtle little galaxies can be formed).
Life and love don't always have to "boil over" for it to be worth living and loving. It can be like... put under a bunsen burner or something. Keep that shit warm, medium heat, steady flame, nice and toasty. (And I am totally not making sense, and that's probably why happy people just write about food because it's easier.)
I look at my life now, at my husband who just loves to love me, at my daughter who asks nothing else from God but to make me happy... and for her rashes to go away, at my work colleagues who trust me to guide and manage them despite my in-expertise, at my family who I remain unorthodoxically close and helluh cool with, at my friends who continue to inspire me with their life experiences and are generous with their time and patience, and I think, perhaps all of this is mundane. Then again, I don't think very many people in this world are as content with where they are. So it can't be mundane. And though happiness may not be grand, it certainly isn't common.
And I'm fortunate to have realized my rare blessing.
Now as for my earlier postulation...
That shit is WRONG. So wrong.
Fuck BORING.
And I mean, FUCK-THAT-SHIT.
Anyone who knows me and my fam know that boring is so not in our scope of living and daily grinding. Toned down? Yes. Chill? Fo sho. But definitely not boring.
This is for my husband with whom I have very serious plans of marrying (again) a year from now. For giving me a reason to try my wings... the courage to soar... the faith to fly when all I could do (and do quite well, was dance my little drunken dance, stumble, fall, and fall down some more).
Been flying ever since.
If you've never been In love, and your longing For the happiness it brings Try your wings
If your hungry for the Sound of a lover saying sentimental things Try your wings
Even the tiniest Bluebird, has to Leave its nest to fly What a bluebird can Do you can do too If you try
If you've always had A dream, and you've Been afraid that it Would not come True hither to Fall in love and You will find that it's Just what you've been Dreaming of
The first love never Comes twice. So Take this tender advice When it comes Try your wings and Fly to the one you love
At TGI Fridays Trinoma whilst celebrating Paolo's recent [and well-deserved] promotion, Lisa Stansfield's The Real Thing starts playing and, of course I [thanks to my mother's love for Ms. Stansfield] start singing...
Me: [how I remember the lyrics, I don't know] Nevermind the stars in the sky, nevermind the when and the why. Got a feeling higher than high, this is the real thing. Nevermind the rain and the storm, we'll keep each other warm. Got something stronger than strong, this is the real thing...
Psyche: [begins clapping outtanowhere] Hooray! Mommy's the best singer EVER! Papa! Tell mommy she's a good singer! Come on! Tell her she's great!
(I don't know whether she was just being incredibly nice or just insanely obnoxious.)
On that note:
Family time is so much fun. I can't wait to get another baby into the mix of things (hahahaha just throw him right in there along with the rest of the crazies =). Hopefully, it'll be a boy next time so Psyche can have her "baby brother." Make the Callanta-Toledo union so much more interesting. Then maybe I'd have TWO adoring [or obnoxious] fans clapping and cheering for me whenever I start singing outtanowhere at random restaurants... and two people to always remind my husband how great I am.
But I don't think he'll forget something like that. =)
This year... we plan on simply settling in to the fact that we've only been together 2 years, married only 7 1/2 months... and have never been happier just vegging together, eating Cheetos, watching Fringe, knowing that we both came home from a hard day's work, loving what we do, loving each other, loving our daughter, and believing that all of this --- the days that go by, the promotions, the trips-away, the bills to pay, the parties to attend, the movies we still have yet to watch, the daily grind that comes with living... all of it [as in, all of it] is just so much sweeter because we have each other to share it with. Isn't that the paradox? "To get the full value of joy, you must have someone to divide it with."
Well who'd have thought blessings only multiply when you divide em?
We also plan on getting a hotel room. (Cuz we nasty =)
So I learned I was pregnant November 6, 2006, right?
Would you believe me if I told you that I KNEW I was pregnant with a girl November 18, 2006?
That would be impossible since you can't determine gender until the 4th month.
I had taken a picture of this butterfly/moth [same diff] November 18, 2006, 1:44pm. It had flown inside my room via a small hole on the screen on the corner of the window and latched itself onto the bathroom door. At first I thought it was a toy magnet of sorts. (Obviously, I had my cameraphone in my hand so I took a picture). But then when I tried to touch it, it began to move. Not fly. Just sort of crawl around on the door. I guess when it KNEW I realized it was real, it began to fly around me and then right back out the hole in the window.
Now I always knew I would name my first girl "Psyche" --- my "soul." Psyche, Goddess of the Soul, represented by a butterfly. But in this case, it was not just any butterfly. It was a yellow butterfly. Yellow. My favorite color.
It's funny how while most people mistake my sister Roni and I for twins, there are still those who don't believe that we're actually sisters (despite the resemblance). Friends, or cousins perhaps. But not sisters.
They say sisters can't possibly be THAT close.
I say, God gave me my bestfriends when I was young. We all just happen to be related.
(As for my sister Paula... I wasn't cool enough to be her friend, hahaha! Ergo, I had the other two to bully on over to my side. =)
I hate that I lost my [photocopied] copy of this book. I first read it as a freshman in college and it was what made me believe, for all of my disillusions of men, that any man who says he loves his country... should love his woman just as much.
She is country. Home. Shelter.
My college professor (who introduced me to the book) once said, "Pablo Neruda ruined it for every other guy. He wrote what we always wanted to say."
I began writing my list about a month ago (just when the -ber months rolled in) and I realized, I already started buying some of the stuff I wanted myself (Ie. a wet/dry hair iron) because really, my wishlist is just a personal shopping list but if someone decides to buy it ahead of me and then give it to me, that's truly a lovely lovely thing.)
So in random order:
The Octavia "miracle" dress
Carolina Herrera 212 VIP for perfume for women
A blender.
A sack of red rice.
Chocolate brown hair (and this luscious bedhead look)
Slendertone replacement gelpads (for my slendertone belt =)
The Spa gift certificates
A strapless swimsuit (so I don't have any unsightly tan lines come the wedding)
Bikram Yoga instructional DVD (because the classes are helluh expensive)
These Virtual Mae boots.
Or God willing... Nicki's pink boots.
I do still want the paint zoom with all of my heart but I know that's probably something I'll hope to use next year when we decide to give our condo some color. And the steam gourmet. And the magic airbed.
I'm just glad I don't have a landline phone otherwise I would be blowing the Home Shopping Network UP!
..............................
But honestly, I just want Psyche to be able to read and write properly before she goes to school and for me and Pao to save up enough money for our modest albeit AWESOME wedding. I plan on getting Psyche an entire Learning Chinese DVD set for Christmas. (I am preparing her for world domination... she just doesn't know it yet.)
For Pao? Maybe just me with nothing but the radio on. (And some Chanel No. 5. =)
Jan. 1, 2010 - and just barely 2 1/2 months
Jan. 1, 2011 - 10lbs. lighter and the rock of Gibraltar on my finger
