When I wake up, it will be time to get dressed so we can leave so we can ski. I am incoherent right now because a.) there's too much peking duck in my system and b.) my head is throbbing with the kind of frenetic pulse reserved for grad students who have just tried to cram various novelic galaxies into impossibly small time spaces.

I say this with a feeling of accomplishment tinged with a little lunacy.

I go. You will probably not hear from me until Monday.

BTW, has anyone ever seen the French animated film called Kaena?

Bitching about school.

So this is one of my classes' Reading List I. Yes, naturally, that means that reading lists 2, 3, 4 and so on are to follow. Yes, all in one semester. Yes, I have other classes to deal with as well. There's actually a "if you have a life, get rid of it" disclaimer in very fine print in our course syllabus.

Sherwood Anderson, Winesburg, Ohio
Andrea Barett, Ship Fever
A.S. Byatt, Angels and Insects: Two Novellas.
Albert Camus, The Stranger.
Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany's.
Joseph Conrad, Youth: A Narrative.
Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes from the Underground.
Gabriela Garcia-Marquez, Leaf Storm.
Jim Harrison, The Beast God Forgot to Invent.
Amy Hempel, Tumble Home: A Novella and Short Stories.
Henry James, The Beast in the Jungle.
James Joyce, The Dead.
Thomas Mann, Mario and The Magician.
Steven Millhauser, The King in the Tree: Three Novellas.
Susan Minot, Monkeys.
Jane Smiley, The Age of Grief; Ordinary Love and Goodwill.
John Steinbeck, The Moon is Down.

The lesser known works of the well-known people. Absolute graduate school. I'm going to go through Thomas Mann and then I'm going to call it a day. Head hurts.

Last night, while laughing through the pages of Douglas Adams, John asked me if he was still alive. I said yes, very blithely and very matter of factly, because at that point, I felt so enamored and connected to the galaxies in his head, that it was inconceivable to my mind that a man with so much imagination and intellect could be cut off from the world.

But then the question began to nag me. I began to do calculations in my head: he had the first BBC radio play out in the 70's, he must have been writing for more than thirty years, how old.... Finally, I did an online search.

John, I was wrong. Douglas Adams died almost three years ago, on May 12, 2001. He was only 49.

And you know what? They still call Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide series a trilogy. Nevermind that there are now 5 novels and one novella in the series. It's still a trilogy. Just ask Amazon or Barnes and Noble. Gotta love a guy like that. Now I'm on a mission to get a copy of his last book, "The Salmon of Doubt".

We're going on a ski trip tomorrow, and we're going to have crispy duck for dinner tonight. Now if I can only finish this packet, life would be just perfect.

BTW, I was reading Douglas N. Adams yesterday, and I have to say, he's really incredibly funny. John thought I had gone seriously insane.

He watched helplessly as I sustained a much prolonged fit of wild maniacal laughter (which finally tailed off in a kind of wheezy hiccuping) while reading DNA's treatise on the kakapo -- probably the stupidest bird in history (I'm sorry that it's endangered and all, but it really is quite fascinatingly dumb).

I love DNA's books. I first encountered his work online when I almost-accidentally-but-really-on-purpose downloaded the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series (plus the extra short story) into my palm pilot. I like him because he's not just funny, he's smart as well... his comedy has a slight philosophic twist to it, and it gives you a very satisfying from-the-bones chuckle that just emanates.

Just read him. I always do on a bad day, and he always cheers me up. Oh and they're making a movie out of "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" (this is the book/radio series/screenplay that gave birth to the term 'paranoid android'). Hope it doesn't dissapoint... that much.

BTW, here's a link to the HHGG game.

"A woman should be strong; she should love with her mind; Let men love
with their hearts." -- Pani Orlovska in Eva Hoffman's Lost in Translation

I should really be working on chapter 2 (and some annotations), but I'm taking a break. I'm not in the mood to perpetuate the worlds in my head, not yet. Not in the mood to play goddess.

My brain feels so chunky today. Yes, chunky. Like there's a lot of unprocessed goop in there and it's clogging up the system. I'm hoping a nice hour of relaxation (no TV) will remedy that. That or neurosurgery to splice of the tumors.

Just so uninspired lately. So irritating to have to force your fiction through your uninspired moments, because you know you'll have to rewrite it at one point anyway.

Maybe it's just the lack of fresh air.

Nina Gordon, revisited.

I forgot she even existed. But no one should forget lyrics like this.

Tonight And The Rest Of My Life

Down to the earth I fell
With dripping wings,
Heavy things won't fly
And the sky might catch on fire
And burn the axis of the world
That's why
I prefer a sunless sky
To the glittering and stinging in my eye

Feel so light
This is all I wanna feel tonight
Feel so light
Tonight and the rest of my life

Gleaming in the dark sea
I'm as light as air
Floating there breathlessly
When the dream dissolves I open up my eyes
I realize that
Everything is shoreless sea
Weightlessness is passing over me

Feel so light
This is all I wanna feel tonight
Feel so light
Tonight and the rest of my life

Everthing is waves and stars
The universe is resting in my arms

I feel so alive
This is all I wanna feel tonight
I feel so light
Tonight and the rest of my life

So. Last night I made tempura and four and a half dozen chocolate chip cookies. Tonight I made chicken parmigiana with pasta shells. Tomorrow night I was thinking Mexican, but I don't know for sure yet. And yes, I make dinner from scratch. Not that difficult really, especially since John eats everything so there's no pressure.

The tempura wasn't that great as some of the shrimp curled up and the batter I made was a little thin, but the chicken turned out okay (my rusty deboning skills notwithstanding). Nice, tender, and (dare I say it?) tasty.

Anyone got a recipe for chicken inasal? Been wanting to make that but I don't know how.

I started with a Sex in the City commentary on the last episode and the whole deal with Mr. Big, but somehow I got sidetracked and it ended up as this (read below). Oh well.

Choice

If there is one thing that my years of theology and philosophy have given me, it is this: the belief in choice.

I live by that code. I know what I am willing and not willing to do. I know the importance of living according to what I chose or did not choose. And I must take responsibility for my life, because I know it is a life filled with my choices, and where it is now is my choice in progress.

Even a belief in fate or God or whatever supreme being, does not take this away. Just because the outcome of a battle is predetermined does not mean that the battle stops. The battle must still be fought. The battle must still be won. Just because the end is guaranteed does not mean we are already there. A road must still be traveled. Just because God already knows our choices does not mean we don’t have to choose. Because we don’t know what the guarantee is. We don’t know what has been predetermined. And even if we did, knowledge of the outcome does not absolve us from making the decision at hand.

So many people say that so many things just happened to them , forgetting that somewhere along the way, they must have chosen to let these things happen. It is these quiet, lurking choices, these choices we never think about, that often creep on us and surprise us. It is on these things that so often, so many things are hinged. The turn of a life. Pain. Loss. The beginning and the end of a love.

Love. It is so in love. For one must choose to love. It is not a matter one dives into haphazardly. Relationships shouldn’t be collected like trophies, not to me anyway. Love is something one thinks about, and ultimately, one chooses.

And what does this choice mean for me? I can’t even begin to explain. But this much I can articulate: it is important. And it’s also hard work. Because contrary to fairytales, happily-ever-afters do not come a dime a dozen. Because to choose just one person among the five billion plus people in this world can never be easy.

And after choosing, there is also the matter of safeguarding that choice. After all, love is not a blinder. The phrase “I only have eyes for you” will wear thin with time. Love will not automatically take out the appeal of the people around you forever. In a way, love means seeing the beauty that there still is around you, and saying your beloved is worth it. It is reaffirming your choice in the midst of so many other options.

Because somewhere down the line, you will find other people attractive. You will find some form of empathy and comfort in someone else. It’s almost inevitable, because this is how we are made. It’s in our physiology. But love means choosing your beloved even in the face of that. Love means that although someone else is beautiful and smart and understanding, you choose to close that door. Simply because that someone else is not the someone you love.

And of course that's hard. But I like to believe that overcoming that hardship is innate to us too. There’s another part to us – the mental, rational, higher part. We don’t eat every cookie in the cookie jar. We don’t become friends with every single person we meet. We don’t take every job offer. We don’t pursue every person who makes us look twice. We have the capacity to choose. And with the choice to take something, sometimes we have to choose to let other things go.

Yes, I believe that ultimately, love is a choice. To choose to be with someone is to choose to not to be with anyone else. It is a choice to accept, but it also comes with sacrifice. And when a choice is made, it is up to us to uphold what we have chosen. To draw our lines, and to draw them so that we see and don’t forget. Because we know -- we have no question -- that choosing him, choosing to love him, is worth it.

DIZTY ENTRY ALERT.

Sorry, but it's that time of the month. Plus I need a break from the mental acrobatics going on in my head.

I am sick of the Ugg boot. Ugh ugh ugh.

I've started my spring shopping. Hooray for the upcoming warmer weather. My clothes focus for this season, boys and girls, is the skirt. The very short mini skirt, to be exact. I want a short white tiered skirt with a drawstring waist, a short, pleated hollister-type skirt (I'm thinking plaid), and maybe a short flirty, frilly, one-of piece that I have yet to see in my head. Yes everything is to be short. John and I had a discussion about this last night, and I think the perfect skirt length would be around 10.5-12 inches, worn very low waist.

And I also want lace tanks, camis, and graphic tees. And a litte vintage wash jean jacket. And flip flops. And a small messenger back. Oooh... and maybe that cute sunset bikini from Roxy.

Now if I can only find said articles of clothing...

I'm so tired of Philippine politics and I'm not even there.

So it seems the riots are back. So it seems were down for another judicial drama. Heaven help the islands. I don't know if masochism just runs in our genes, or if has-been actors just have their own gayuma factories and the masses are drunk on it, or if there's a brain-clot virus going around that prevents people from seeing straight. I hate to sound so unpatriotic, but I'm glad I'm over here. I love the Philippines for all that it is, don't get me wrong, but at this point, I don't think I'm ready for the exhaustion that comes with all the political instability. Unlike my parents and previous generations, I've lived with this mess all my life, and I'm exhausted.

All my life I've been fed rhetoric about the youth being the hope of the future. That it is our responsibility. That we are being handed the world and it's our job to take care of it. But what exactly is it that we're inheriting? I've never seen Manila Bay before it's current polluted/distorted state. I've never seen the streets devoid of starving street children. I've never been to any government agency where I didn't have to fork down some off-the-books cash to ease the process. I don't remember the good old "prosperous" times.

I was born under a dictator, lived through coup d 'etats, partied through threats of kidnapping and rape, saw corrupt government officials turn over their offices to other corrupt government officials, breathed pollution, bribed the police, and stared poverty in the face on a regular basis. Along the way one begins to question if rising from the slump is even possible. For all we know, stories of better times were just fabrications of generations who've screwed up and are pinning their last hopes of redemption on their unwitting children.

Before I left, I was weighed down by guilt because the well-intentioned people around me had implied that I was running away from a problem I should help solve, because it was my moral responsibility. Because I was smart, I was passionate, I could maybe do something. Because I was a child of this dilapidating landscape. But I can't help but ask, what was there for me had I stayed? What could the motherland give this child? Aside from disillusionment? Aside from exhaustion? Aside from being swallowed up by the mass of unrecognizable faces struggling to insert some semblance of meaning in sad stagnant lives?

I'm not ready to live life like that. Not when there's sunshine on other shores. Not when I can choose other lives to live.

If I sound so fatalistic, forgive me. I haven't given up hope. I love my country. I'm just recuperating from a lifetime of living in it.

i am your now. yet i am waiting still.
I'm worth it. You know damn well I am.

Advisory: Skip if allergic to mush.

The Post-Valentine Regurgitation.

I've only ever asked for one thing when it comes to love. I ask to be first. Among all things. No pre-existing conditions, no ifs or buts, no exceptions. First and above all, above everything.

And when I know and feel that I'm come first, I can forgive anything. From the top, everything else becomes peripheral. From the top, I can let most things pass. I can give all there is to give. I'll twist myself around your little finger, and I'll even do it with a smile.

But I can't handle being second tier. And I don't share my space either. Not with cats, not with dogs, not with exes-turned-friends. Not even for little minutes. I will not be displaced and be left outside for anyone. You either put me where I want to be, or you let me go. I'm a take me or leave me kind of girl. It's your choice, it always has been. But know that this is the only thing I ask, and on this I will not compromise. I'm selfish like that. I never said I wasn't.

This is how I need to be loved. This is how I love in return. I don't know of any other way. It sounds so simple, but it isn't. I know.

I'm worth it.


--------------
On the lighter side, my sister, who is a high school sophomore, has apparently been discovered by the opposite sex. She has now gone out on her first official date, and is going to the La Salle Graduation Ball. So yay for her but condolences to my parents. The insanity begins.

So how was my weekend? I guess you could say that Valentine's began on Friday. I got Mrs. Fields cookies in the mail from JR (thanks!), and a tornado globe from John. It's really cute. I put it on my desk so I can see it whenever I'm working. Yes, it makes me smile like a lunatic in regular intervals. Then there was our dinner of sushi (yum). Then we went to Slate to play pool with John's friends.

Saturday, the boyfriend and I went the way of stereotypical New York romance. We strolled around Central Park, and took pictures atop bridges and gardens and castles. Ofcourse we had to go wolf down half a dozen burgers from White Castle, before the day was through.

Sunday we mostly stayed home, although we did go to Staples to buy the DVD burner. In the afternoon we went to this studio somewhere in college point (?) to listen to Mo's band jam and just practice I guess.

And yesterday, Monday, John took a day off. So that was home improvement day - bought a new vacuum cleaner, assembled the picture collage on the poster frame, cleaned a little. The boxes are still strewn around the doorway though.

So that's it. And back to work.

Bored, restless, claustrophobic. Feel like the world's closing in on me. So I fight back with this. God, someone haul me out of my cave already. Filched from Joey.

3 THINGS
3 things you are: Ambitious, passionate, secretly introverted
3 things you are not: ditzy, mediocre, predictable
3 things you like: books, beer, beaches
3 things you dislike: most hip hop, flakiness, rodents
3 things you want: rock the world, respect from the people I respect, fulfilment
3 qualities you like in a guy/girl: Tallness (agree with Joey on this one), independence, intelligence
3 qualities you dislike: being boring, close-mindedness, stupidity
3 qualities that make your ideal relationship: trust, understanding, passion
3 qualities you like in a friend: intelligence, good conversational skills, insanity
3 words that describe/remind you of love: rock my world
3 words that describe/remind you of hate: kill die war
3 songs that make you want to dance: n/a
3 best book you've ever read: For now: Unbearable Lightness of Being (Kundera), Member of the Wedding (McCullers), God of Small Things (Roy)
3 best albums you've ever heard: Pass
3 best stores to shop at: Right now I like Beacon's Closet, Rampage, Filthmart

Time to do something crazy. I haven't done anything deranged in a long time. And the energy needs to be released if I don't want to go stark raving mad. Ugh.

Ah, first chapter of my novel has been submitted.

The new banner is a picture of Willy's Rock in Boracay, taken at the height of one of those crazy tropical sunsets.

It's been unusually warm lately. Warm enough to actually take walks. This time last year, due to my fear of hypothermia, I would only go outside when absolutely necessary, and then sometimes not even. John says it'll snow again though, so I should enjoy the (relative) warmth as much as I can.

My brain practically collapsed under its own weight yesterday. Speedreading through Albert Camus, writing yet another chapter 1 (which I think is the hardest chapter to write, btw), conceptualizing syllabus draft 1, and working under time pressure, aggravated by the fact that I can feel the cracking of my skull as I slave away, can do that sometimes.

Gotta thank god for advil.

And what is John eating for lunch today? Sisig, a strip of tapa, and rice. The American boyfriend is in the procss of being pinoy-ified. We also went to Little Manila in Woodside to get some bangus and flan. And the bangus and flan were his idea. I only wanted to go to see if they had any Pinoy DVDs with english subtitles. (No such luck.)

I feel a little strange, using two computers. I now have a regular desktop with a regular-sized keyboard (which John kindly set up for me so I could at least slow down the onslaught of carpal tunnel syndrome -- otherwise I would have continued to force my already deformed fingers into my laptop's miniscule keyboard) with more memory than I will ever have probable need for. But just for fun, I keep them both on anyway -- one for official activity (school, work) and one for leisure and pleasure.

I also have a MP3 player the size of a cigarette case, yes, care of John as well. It's the cutest thing. Perfect for subway rides and boring classes. It also has a recording feature, which is just what I need for when I'm too lazy to write thoughts down.

I need new glasses. Or a new pair of eyes. Or, while we're at it, a new head.

Does anyone know where I can get GOOD pinoy movies with english subtitles here in New York? (O kahit na anong state dito sa America?) Where to download? Where to buy/rent? Please?

The boyfriend and I have seen a lot of Asian movies, but never anything pinoy. Scoured the net, but came up with nothing but American Adobo, which I didn't particularly like, and would not care to see again.

Any ideas? Was trying to look for Munting Tining (Small Voices) with the de Rossi girl, because I know it made its rounds in some of the art houses here, but can't seem to find a "for-private-use" copy. Also did a search for Maynila sa Mga Kuko ng Liwanag, as that's supposed to be a classic, but still came up empty.

Let me know.

Subject of the week: Janet Jackson's stunt at halftime during the Superbowl.

A picture (or 3) paints a thousand words. Yes, Justin Timberlake pulled out her boob covering. It was the finale to the halftime extravaganza, and it doesn't look like anyone bothered to clear this with people upstairs, as the lights died and they cut to a commercial very, very soon after.

Rumors have it that they have both been pulled out of the grammies. She (and he) has apologized to the American public for subjecting them to the exposure of her mutilated and, err, sun-themed breast.

The much closer look, below right. I can only guess that this was all an elaborate marketing scheme. My boyfriend and I were actually watching the damn thing when it aired. This shot must be spreading like wildfire by now. Ouch.

Alphabet Personality, filched from Victor. Oh no, not these damn online quiz things again...

I promise this won't be a regular thing. Nor will this be the start of the deluge.

Anyway, if you're wondering which letter of the alphabet matches YOUR personality, click here.

Balikbayan Fares

Yay for Balikbayan fares, which allow Filipinos and their families to travel to the Philippines on discounted ticket prices! And I just recently found out that most agencies will let John travel with the same fare if I let them think he's my fiance. So yay! No more flights costing above $1000!

The only thing is, this can't be booked directly with the airline. I have to go through the travel agency and let them do their balikbayan magic. But the $4 train ride is really a small price to pay for this much savings.

Happy happy joy joy.

The Scuba Diving Environmentalist in me -- take a moment to read this, please.

Did you know that cetaceans abound in the waters of Pamilican (Bohol), Donsol (Sorsogon), and Bais (Dumaguete)? This summer, if you still have the energy and money after Boracay and whatnot, why not give them a try? The influx of eco-tourism in these areas will encourage the locals to use their expertise in sighting these creatures for whale-watching tours instead of hunting and killing them.

For the divers/snorkellers, Donsol is your best bet, as you can actually swim with whale sharks in their natural habitat. If you want more variety, however, Pamilacan will let you see spinner dolphins, Risso's dolphins, bottlenose dolphins, Fraser's dolphins, short-finned pilot whales, pygmy killer whales and melon-headed whales. You can't dive with them though, as per UNESCO regulations.

There is also evidence of coral bleaching and silting in the Sulu Sea, home of the Tubbataha Reef. Over 33,000 hectares of this sea has been managed as a marine park since 1988 by the World Wildlife Fund. Endemic to this sea is a myriad of flora and fauna, with one of the highest diversity ratings in the world. If you dive, you can reach this place through a liveaboard. Again, awareness is the name of the game. Sustainable ecotourism allows for funding to take care of this brilliant and amazing reef, which has been designated a World Heritage Site.

Cabilao and Balicasag, once known for big pelagics, has been deteriorating. No one has seen a hammerhead shark there in four years. A sad thought when we learn that only 10 years ago, it was a veritable sanctuary, with sightings of not just individuals, but schools.

Personally, I've witnessed the deterioration of Anilao in Batangas, which is dangerously close to being all beached out. About 12 years ago, the colors and the corals there were so vivid and vibrant. The sight of that marine world was what made me want to dive in the first place.

Contrast that to about two and a half years ago, which was the last time that I was there. The reefs were muted (evidence of bleaching), and the fishes were considerably less in number. Even the old bread in the cathedral trick didn't attract the swarm of butterflies, damsels and angels that usually flock the area.

Sad too that we're an archipelago, and yet we don't really take pride in our oceans. Do you know our little country has more coastline than the US? Did you know that the Sulu Sea (which borders Palawan) alone has a higher marine life diversity rating than the whole of the Caribbeans? (I'm not sure for how long though...)

It's just depressing to think that all these natural wonders can slip away without anyone thinking about them.

People, there's a lot going on in your backyard.

I'm so excited to go to the Philippines in June that I'm already telling everyone who will listen to please be free around June 12-20 because I want to go to Boracay and I want them to come! And yes, that includes you too. (I've got a really cheap fare+lodging plan, if you're interested...)

Plus I want to try wakeboarding in Lago de Oro (Calatagan), introduce John to the wonderful world of scuba, take a roadtrip to Leslie's in Tagaytay for beer and sisig (Ais, your email had me salivating), listen to a Cynthia gig, and blah blah blah.

And June is still a half a year away.

Hay. Must be all the snow getting to me. The call of sunny paradises is just too much.

Superbowl Sunday.