Can You Hear The Whispers of Your Soul?

Melbourne's Monday Morning Tragedy

2007-06-18T20:41:00.000+10:00

Melbourne's a relatively safe place, but who can really predict when mad gunmen run around assaulting and killing people? Who would know when and where tragedy may strike? It was a Monday morning, mostly everyone in the city is in a mad rush to grab a coffee, to go to work, or to hop on a tram, train, or cab. Imagine a bustling intersection, imagine the sound of cars, the sound of the traffic light, the sound of quick paces. These are normal, one does not even stop to notice. But when a gun shot is fired, people will scramble. Several gun shot sounds reverberated through the busy surrounds of Melbourne's business district almost half past eight this morning. It is what appeared to be a row between a man and a woman..... he was trying to grab her as she gets on to a taxi. A man who was only trying to help got killed, another who tried to aid was also shot and is seriously injured. As for the woman, she was shot in the abdomen.

With the gunman still at large and Melbourne CBD blocked off at many sections, it was hard to feel at ease as we all went through our day to day activities. The shooting is said to have been the worst in Melbourne in 5 years, and it happened between Williams St. and Flinders Lane, not very far from where our office is. A memorandum went around to avoid going into the city or to clients' sites if possible. At the end of the day, people have to leave the security of their offices and go outside to go home. Being a worrywart, I kept my fingers crossed that the man seated across me in the train is not the crazed person who just tried to kill three people (and successful with one) in the morning.

See news at: shooting.

Business and Pleasure

2007-05-16T23:54:00.000+10:00

The past three days have been long, under-the-pump days at the client site. Normally under this kind of circumstance, I will be more than keen to go straight home and to my bed at the end of the day. However, being interstate for work this week kind of makes one want to have an outside exploration more than just going back and crashing in the lonely hotel room. Nevermind the king-sized bed and the jacuzzi / spa, my colleague and myself have obviously made the decision to ignore the physical and mental exhaustion and just go all out to try some restaurants.

And ahhh... it does give a bit of an incentive that South Australia has some good wineries... and of course it will be an utter waste not to indulge in SA wine while we are here. Shame that we don't have the weekend in Adelaide, else we would have planned a trip to the Barossa Valley. But well oh well, I wouldn't be complaining because for the past few dinners, we've had some pretty good South Australian wines.

One of the reasons why I'm putting this down on the blog is to ensure that I remember the type and year of the wine we've had - as I am surely going to want to stock up on those. Last night we had dinner in the hotel, had lovely seafood entrees, and I had a very nice mandarin-glazed duck with dates and lychees. Oh yum. But topping that meal was the wine that we had. I normally would go for a merlot, but that choice of cab sav was pretty awesome. It is quite rich in flavour, yet very smooth. The 2002 Cabernet Sauvignon Ebenezer from the Barossa Valley, SA. will definitely go into my stock. To digress from SA, but still on wine... one of the recently discovered favourites of ours is the 2003 merlot from Punt Road at Yarra Valley. The winery ran out of stock! And we've kind of given our last bottle of that vintage away... not knowing that they wouldn't have any stock left. Have to check out Dan Murphy's. That's a mental note, by the way.

This evening saw us on a bit of a hike to find this restaurant suggested by the hotel concierge. Not paying attention is quite worrying when venturing out to search for a place one has not been to - and in an unfamiliar city at that. Finally we found Lago's, an Italian restaurant situated by the river and which has a nice water and city view. I must say that the antipasto and herb focaccia were excellent, more so than the main. My colleague H made the right choice in wine. Something we've never had before, but giving it a shot was definitely a good call. We had the 2006 Chapel Hill Unwooded Chardonnay from McLaren Vale, SA. Pretty young wine, I personally didn't have very high expectations of it (not that I'm qualified to critique nor would claim to have a seasoned palate), but I know what I like and what I don't, and this one turned out to be quite nice - still fruity and easy to drink... and yes, without that often not-too-pleasant oaky taste. With just us two girls sharing a bottle - we were quite content. I wouldn't mind more if only we didn't have to wake up early for work tomorrow. Oh well...

A reason to go back for a real tour of South Australia may be on the list, some time... perhaps when they have their local festivals when food and wine are abundant... =) Other than those, I've no real desire to be in the city of Adelaide for holiday - a bit of a contrast to Melby's pace.

The Past Week...

2007-05-11T07:12:00.000+10:00

"A" once mentioned that when one does things consistently, regularly, for 22 times, then it becomes a habit. Don't ask why it is the number 22 - apparently he read it somewhere, or he's just pulling my leg. Anyway, so I have been trying that out...sorta stick to some proper routine. I am not a "routine" kind of person; if there's one thing I find utterly boring, that would be doing the same thing, at the same time, in the same way, every single day. But according to A, my personal psychologist and motivator, that's how you build up habits that you want to see in yourself. Arrgggh whatever. See, I'm not so good at sitting down with a textbook or a learning module, especially if the font is quite small and in black print. And oh, especially if there are no pictures. Classics and literature are a different thing. One doesn't always get to just do the things he's good at. Sometimes he's forced into something he doesn't want to do, nor have the patience to, but will be beneficial for him. I had no choice but to grudgingly put into my schedule the "study hour" for the past week and a half - normally from 10 - 12 in the evening. It hasn't quite reached 22 days but I don't reckon I would last any longer doing that. So what if I can't sit still? The past weeks have been exhausting.

The simple habit I stick with are my early morning coffee - making sure that I sit down in peace and quiet with a large steaming mug for at least 15 minutes. But even that, I need a variety of taste in beans and strength in the coffee - Brazil, Colombian, Goroka, or Jamaican - never to plan what I am having.

And what's this thing about not going out on a week night because it is a week night, or a Sunday night because there is work tomorrow? Doh! I must admit, I have at one point dangled dangerously, close to falling into that queue. Then snapped back. Some times getting out to have a bit of air (and yes, a glass of wine, beer, or whatever) on a non-weekend evening does so much for one's spirits. Same goes for a retail quick fix, nothing beats the silly excitement of an impulse buy.

One of the main things I like about my job is that it is not desk-bound, well yeah I still use a desk, but not necessarily the same desk every day, and not necessarily in the same office all the time. Most importantly, the people I have to work / deal / rub shoulders with today, may not necessarily be the same people I see the next week. Work is always changing, and the approach is always different. I like that. No routine, not 100% predictable. At the start of a new assignment, it could be like stepping on unfamiliar grounds, but that's even more exciting. It doesn't really give me much of a thrill to know that I'll be able to do something because I already knew the drill, that my results are what they are because the work is already my standard familiar one. It just loses its spark for me, if it's that way.

"A" has been away overseas for 2.5 weeks now - I suppose he is the only constant one that I do not mind having.

Ooops, Mind Your Slip

2007-04-26T00:38:00.000+10:00

A colleague spotted someone at the client's wearing mismatched heels. Poor girl, I could understand that some times in our haste, we commit these laughable boo-boos. But oh well, one still gets through the day. All you can do is have a hearty laugh about it.

I have my little moments too. It was in one of those days when there was no cab in sight, and the train is about to depart in a couple of minutes. I was going back to the city office from the client's at some far-off suburb that I wouldn't even have stepped foot on had I not been assigned to this project. Anyway, with laptop bag on one shoulder and loads of other stuff on hand, I was practically running to the station, still with a bit of poise intact. However, one will very soon realise that the poise could just have been flung out of the window... because just before I hopped onto the train (thank God I caught it!), many staring eyes drew my attention to... errr, my skirt. Yes, the conservative corporate skirt which was supposed to be a few inches below the knee in length has some how come up to almost mid-thigh and has turned 180 degrees back to front! Que horror! No wonder the wind felt chillier at that moment. Had to quickly pull the offensive skirt down.

How to recover from such embarrassment? Duck into the farthest corner and pretend to read the newspaper. And announce it on your blog.

After the Move

2007-04-09T11:03:00.000+10:00

So we've finally moved! The big day didn't come without glitches. First, the 3-tonne truck we booked was not available when we went to pick it up - some system issue with the rental car company! It was a long weekend and it was not easy to hire a truck. Good thing a friend of ours helped source from Europcar and we were able to get one fairly quickly. You say 3-tonne is too big? It wasn't - not with the amount of things we have. We went two rounds too. Second, my "forecast" of 3 hours moving was totally inaccurate for amateur movers like myself and my friends. It was more like 6 hours! In the future I would just hire professional movers, those guys can actually lift and move a whole fridge with ease and in one go. By the time everyone finished, we were all so buggered.

Spacious new place, but with hardly anywhere to walk on. It was a bit like that for about two weeks; we took our time filling the cupboards and organising the new place. If packing and moving are both pains in the bum, then unpacking easily comes as a runner up. There's the problem of being unable to find the things one needs (or tripping over boxes!) Things look so much better now - the first area that got the first fixing up was of course, the kitchen. The living area is still so-so, but it'll be fun to decorate. Since the old sofa set was thrown out, we're on the hunt for a new leather set. Everything will come together in due time.

This is a snapshot of how things look like even after a couple of days into moving in the new place.

The First to Go........

2007-03-01T17:36:00.000+11:00

Having to move is a pain in the bum. Of course, having found a nicer place is a bonus - something I am giddy about. However, moving is not just moving per se, moving is actually 90% sorting, packing, and cleaning up, THEN the actual move (where one can hire other people to work the muscles). I am not half-way through that first 90%... and my back is already killing me! Astonishing how one discovers the amount of junk that has been accummulated over the years, I certainly have an embarrassingly huge heap. They will either go to the bin or to the Salvos if still in good condition but will no longer be required.

Our good buddies throughout the years at Little Elgin Street... the company we've enjoyed not only a bit, but heaps... well, the memories are many, still empty bottles we will no longer keep... our evening friends were amongst the first ones to go... buh-bye!

Max

2007-02-17T02:17:00.000+11:00

It took me quite a while to come to the decision of putting Max up for adoption. But as soon as I did, I quickly sent out an email to friends and acquaintances with an attachment of his photos and a brief background of the pet I love so much. It did not take long before I got calls and emails from people who expressed interest to take him. It was the weirdest feeling - like an in-between of protectiveness and hesitation. A tiny part of me was hoping that no one would satisfy the requirements I have set in order to qualify to adopt Max (therefore I would have to keep him longer...) That was emotions ruling. The logical department still won over and that is it's for his best interest to go to a family where he will get the attention that he needs, where he will have a lot of people around him, where he will be able to go for runs and walks everyday, where his playfulness will not be taken for granted. It is the best thing I can do for him, as I have already abandoned the idea of bringing him with me to Australia, an idea I have toyed with and researched on a bit previously, as per my post more than a year ago.

Last Saturday afternoon, my friend and her boyfriend (whom I have chosen to adopt Max) came by to pick him up. I wonder then and I still do now if he sensed what was going on. He didn't whimper or cry, but I was with him in the car. He literally leapt out of the van when we got to his new home, and excitedly "surveyed" the new environment, weeing at two or three corners! Fast forward - I left and I still remember how his puppy eyes look. It breaks my heart but I am comforted with the knowledge that he'll be well taken care of and *hopefully* he's happy.

Max during one of our fetch & drop play sessions

You Can Swindle My Foot!

2007-01-28T11:41:00.000+11:00

Arls and myself were devil's advocates to Char's playing hooky last Friday. It was such a perfect scene of elopement as Char snuck out with two huge run away bags and quickly jumped into my car. The three of us were all set to spend a relaxing morning at the Ace Water Spa. The whole day to the evening has been carefully planned out already... but who would have thought that other surprises were in store for us?

We found a spot for the car at the back facility and parked beside a white Hyundai Starex van; when we got off the vehicle, an angry woman approached us saying that upon opening our passenger door, we have been careless and chipped off a speck of paint on her car. Ooops! Not really seeing any damage and perhaps committing a crime of thinking light of the situation, we just apologised and went on our way into the facility. Not long after arriving in the dressing room, we received a call from the guard requesting for us to come out as the lady wanted a word with us. Uh-oh... "double double toil and trouble; fire burn and caldron bubble..."

Mrs X complained about how we disregarded others and how we were too careless in our ways and actions, and oh look what we did to her car! Gasp!!! Let me put out my magnifying glass and lo!... a millimetre of paint chipped off. Her driver was not helping either as he ribbed her on about how we slammed (slammed???) our door to theirs. Fine, however small the damage is, it would be our fault for not being careful in opening the door, and so Char asked how Mrs X wants us to settle this. The magic word... settle! She said that she'll let her driver appraise the damage and we could split 50-50 on the cost of repair. Wait a minute kapeng mainit... Char was quick, she immediately said that it won't be an unbiased appraisal if it was HER driver doing it right? Mrs X proceeded on saying that if it were just a scratch, even a big one, she wouldn't have made a big deal out of it as it'll be an easy fix, but but but... a small chip like this would eat up the steel and cause rusting, and then she would have to replace the whole door. Right! I was already apprehensive, I said that I would make a phone call. She probably does not know whom I called but that is the whole point (it was just my dad). We then told Mrs X that our insurance will take care of everything; I have a camera with me and we could take a photo (although in my heart I doubt that the insurance company would even give a fart about this tiny dot). At the mention of insurance company, she balked and started her monologue of how she doesn't like paper work like that, it's full of hassle etc etc, that she would rather settle this right there and then (meaning, with us shelling out cash). Very obvious signs of being a fake right? Why would she rather put out money than have insurance pay for the damage, if there is any really.

Here were the words we've used: "due process," "comprehensive insurance," "police report," etc. She didn't want to hear about it anymore. If earlier she wanted us to take responsibility, at this point she changed her stand to just shoulder the cost by herself and let "God take care of the whole thing," and that may we realise that this is "our punishment" for being too carefree. Mrs X wasn't too happy with our use of English, for she is just a simple Bicolana who has a business of her own as well, and she would earn back what she would spend for the car, yada yada yada. Arl was the humble one who didn't make her feel low and so she was willing to let this incident pass, but others (me and Char) harped on in English. What??? Holy cow, she was so long-winded and so out of this world. We again offered the insurance for we don't want any one to come out disadvantaged. She refused. And why wouldn't she?... she doesn't have a case. She was trying to swindle money out of three supposedly innocent, gullible-looking girls who also supposedly know nothing about settling matters like this.

We kept our fingers crossed that we don't bump into her in the spa, and that they don't do anything to our car. Nothing happened. In the end, I realised that her claimed chipped paint on her car is in fact just a bit of paint from my dark green car that rubbed onto hers. Oh well, more than half an hour of our time wasted, and her time too... but without her getting the moolah she was hoping to gain from this. Swindle our feet!

Kidney Sold

2007-01-15T03:16:00.000+11:00

We've heard of these stories many times, we are aware that this trade actually do happen, we express strong opinions when it's brought up. But still it is different when we hear of an actual account told by someone who has been through the process - whether he be the buyer or the seller. It feels almost eerie, it puts a heavy weight on one's heart.

The 60++ wife of a businessman has been through a difficult time with her kidney problem; painful dialysis is what kept her alive. When the opportunity for a kidney transplant was presented to her by a surgeon, her family grabbed and held on to the promise of a new lease in life. The "surgical package" inclusive of the organ translated to Php1.5million (around AU$40,000). She would also need to be on medication for the rest of her remaining life.

A man in his 20's had previously approached the surgeon, offering one of his kidneys for sale. He was initially turned away for his blood type doesn't match any potential buyer. Not long after he was traced and called back, and offered a sum for the sale of his organ. He accepted. In exchange for one of his kidneys, he took home Php150,000 (approximately AU$4,000).

How do we measure life? No one can put a price to it, but in cases like this, it forces us to look at the ugly reality that money plays a huge role in preserving as well as taking away life. To the young man who had to dismember himself for a very obvious reason of financial need, I feel sorry for him. He still has many years to live and I do pray that his remaining kidney serves him well and lasts him long. If I could, I would have urged him not to sell, but what do I know of another's predicament, what right do I have to want to influence the decision of someone whose life experiences could be so different from mine. To the recipient of the organ, I wish the trade immensely increases her quality of life.

It is easy to pass judgment on both parties, what should have and should not have been. But can we really fully comprehend them for their decisions and actions? I guess not. Still, organ trade poses as an ethical and societal quagmire. In poverty-stricken countries where exploitation of those who have run out of other better options is rampant, organ trade would not be so uncommon. It is a sad fact that many lives in need have latched on their hopes of a "supposedly" better life to something that may eventually lead them to sickness and an even darker state.

Such things fill me with sadness. One can only hope that those lives affected are affected for the better. It's not always the case.

Losing My Voice

2006-12-20T09:50:00.000+11:00

In the literal sense of the phrase, I lost my voice yesterday. Days of having a dry, itchy, sore throat should have served as a flashing red light, but often with flashing red lights, we ignore them and speed some more. Obviously yours truly will not be the best teacher for your teenage kids' driving lessons. But that's beside the point. It is a funny realisation that I stretch myself out more when I am on holidays, doing 18-hour days and mostly running around like there is no tomorrow, each waking moment being so precious that you don't want spending those in sleeping and dreaming away.

Anyway, waking up and having the sound coming out from the throat reduced to a mere croak is not the best thing. According to my friend, to me it's like being stripped away of my clothes. Ayayayyy! Someone above is telling me to keep the talk minimal for once, and reflect... maybe. Since I failed to listen at first, he did it by force... boo-hoo-hoo! See, one of my many quirks is that as much as possible, I avoid taking any medicines - the unnatural stuff (e.g. no mefenemic acid for cramps, better endure it and hug a hot water bottle). Quite ironic because what remains natural in the food we take and the environment we live in anyway? Well well well... traditional, ancient remedies I am more inclined to take, still with hesitation because they taste like crap. Anyone who has heard of the watermelon frost would agree that this bitter-tasting powder is not the most pleasant thing to have in your mouth (or throat!), but it works by soothing and cooling down the affected area. I've had it sprayed on my throat three times a day. If not mistaken, this frost can also be applied to mouth ulcers. The elders in the family would also recommend the drinking of chrysanthemum tea, said to prevent the sore throat progressing into something worse - e.g. fever. A very cooling remedy, I must say... better taken with a bit of honey or rock sugar though. In eastern medicine, there is a concept of "too much heat" in the body (shush!! y'all dirty minds). And there are food which are considered "heaty" such as fried food, and these are to be avoided. I digress from my topic, but what the heck...

Not being able to speak or properly express one's thoughts is probably one of the most excruciating and frustrating thing ever. A bottle waiting to pop. I've got it back, albeit still rough on the edges. What a blessing it is to have a voice!

Please Get Me There In One Piece

2006-11-26T11:03:00.000+11:00

At three-quarters past nine in the morning of the 24th of November, I flew out of Melbourne to come to the city that never sleeps - not New York - but the vibrant, bustling, *hyperactive* city which is Hong Kong. What a relief it was for me to be aboard the plane and away from the grasp of anyone on land. You see, before I could hop onto my flight, I had to see myself to the airport.

It was early in the morning, and I ordered a cab for this trip. When the knock came, it was barely six o'clock, I flung open the door to see a man with the fieriest, angriest, biggest, curliest hair I have ever seen at this time of the day. Quickly shaking off my initial astonishment and refocusing my gaze from his crop to my things, I proceeded to shift my luggage out of the house. And then... a maxi cab...?!?!!! These maxi taxis are like vans and can sit around 10 people. I did not need a maxi cab! I did not order for one, there is only one of me and I have one check in luggage plus my laptop - that's it. But I was in a hurry so nevermind that I have to pay a premium for this and nevermind that the initial image that shot through my mind is a kidnap-runaway van for it was sort of beat-up and rough looking. I refused the suggestion of the cabbie that I sit in front, mumbling to him that I still have to kind of fix items inside my luggage... an odd reason actually. But I was a bit wary of this one and I thought that the picture on the ID displayed in his taxi did not really look like him, or was I over-reacting? Having grown up in the Philippines, I could count with my ten fingers the number of times I have ridden a cab, and perhaps I still carry with me that defensiveness and suspicion that comes with inexperience and unfamiliarity of Manila taxi rides.

He was a chatty driver, which is fair enough, better a bit of talk than total awkward silence. The normal drill of where I am headed and where I was from. I thought he was a bit of a smooth talker.

Cabbie: "So, where are you from?"
Me: "I'm from Manila..."
Cabbie: "Aaaahhh... Manillllllaaaaaa! You are the most beautiful Filipino I have ever laid eyes on!"
Me: "Errr, naaah, perhaps you haven't met many Filipinos."
Cabbie: "No no no, I am serious. I have met many, and you are the most beautiful!"

The conversation went from friendly to too-friendly.

Cabbie: "How long will you be in Manila for?"

Me: "A couple of months...."

Cabbie: "So you are not in love!"

Me: "What do you mean?"

Cabbie: "If you are in love, you wouldn't be away for that long. You don't have a boyfriend?"

I just smiled and proceeded with my pretense of reorganising my carry-on luggage. But goodness gracious, he wouldn't stop.

Cabbie: "You know, I've had many girlfriends before... but none of them is really good."
Me: "Uh huh"
Cabbie: "Western girls, all they want is sex, sex, sex. But me, I want to talk, I want to be able to connect with someone with conversation, not just sex, sex, sex. Well, sex is important, but you know...."
Me: "Hmmmm...."

Creepy as!!! When a stranger starts talking like that, alarm bells should be ringing. Images of women cut up and dumped in the bush flashed in quick pulses in my head. While maintaining a calm composure, inside me, my heart was beating like crazy, and I quickly searched the inside of the van for any weapons I could use... just in case. The silence was once again broken when he spoke.

Cabbie: "So, what do you like to do... I mean, hobby, what's your hobby?"
Me: "I like swimming. I like sports."
Cabbie: "Wow! I didn't realise that! I was so concentrated on your eyes and face that I did not notice your body. You are truly beautiful."
Me: "You are just being kind."

And he went on and on and on, giving me the shivers all the more. Although Melbourne is a relatively safe place, there are still news of women being assaulted, and more recently the statistics on assault of women by taxi drivers has risen. And the danger signs are mostly when they start to get too friendly. I was already praying that I get to the airport in one piece.

Cabbie: "I will give you my mobile number. Will you send me a text when you are overseas?"
Me: "Ah... sure."
Cabbie: "Great, we are friends now... maybe we should catch up for coffee some time when you get back."

Me: "No problem."

Before I could even think, I have this Spanish dude's mobile number, and I have just made a promise that I have no intention of keeping - to send him a text and to catch up when I get back to Melbourne. We pulled up at the international departure area and I did not waste any time hopping out of the vehicle.

I would probably avoid taking a cab by myself in the future. Or have I just let my imagination run a tad bit wilder? Tell me.

Seasons Change

2006-11-15T16:54:00.000+11:00

It is the coldest November day in Melbourne in five years... rain, hail, strong gusts of wind, it is like winter all over again. And I do not wonder why, I no longer question why. I have gotten used to the ever-changing seasons and temperature in this place I now call home, as I have gotten so used to the changes in our lives brought about by events and situations both controllable and uncontrollable, stirred by our personal experiences, thoughts, and beliefs - or those of another's. Sometimes they are easy to cope with or even bear, sometimes they form part of our lives' struggles, a lot of times we were the ones who evoked them. Someone once said that change happens not without inconvenience, and it is very true. Whatever resistance ultimately is won over by what needs to be. We deal with all sorts of them - birth, death, sickness, new relationships, the end of relationships, change of jobs, moving out, settling down... life will not be as round, plump, and full without them. Although some of these we fear or do not seek, they will come to us and we must accommodate, that is when our constant transformation happens. Many times, spirits would be wounded, but quite as often we are also uplifted.

My life have been richer with all that have come to me and all that I have embraced, struggled with, resisted and refused, coped with, fought with. I do become wary (at times) of the crossroads I have to face, and of the changing patterns of life, wondering and thinking how decisions I have made or will choose to make may affect not only myself but others. At the same time, my heart antcipates with flurry. Seasons will change, just like how this cold November day have come and will eventually go, fade to give way to a new day.

My Friday the 13th, Their Friday the 13th

2006-10-14T19:49:00.000+10:00

And so I pulled the pin yesterday. It wasn't much of an explosion for I've kept it low-key but enough to cause a bit of clatter amongst those in the top level. I didn't especially pick Friday the 13th to be the day I formalise my resignation, it just so happened that it is exactly four weeks from when I intend to wrap up with my current company.

It was not as easy as I thought it would be. Following my news is a series of meetings between myself and my manager's boss, and as I suspect between him and the bigger boss. I was prepared with my reasons, which were laid out clear and simple - that I am taking the time to re-evaluate my career and investigate new opportunities, that I am not ecstatic about the balance in responsibilities within the team, and that I would be going away on a three-months holiday. End of story, it should have been, but no. For each of my reason, they countered with an offer. Quite tempting but am I one to be easily bought? Not having accepted anything and still firm with my decision, I then received a request for a "discussion" with the head of operations, which surprised me because I never thought that it would be any issue. The first words that came out of my mouth was "Gee, it's like being summoned into the principal's office." But it's quite the contrary, the discussion was for him to understand why I want to leave, and for him to convince me to stay. I don't know if it was to give compliment or what but he stressed that he normally doesn't ask people to sit with him and question their resignation if they weren't exceptional, and that I was exceptional. An ego boost, maybe, but it made the whole process all the more painful and difficult. What with praises and compliments being dished out from two very critical and picky people, with assurance of flexibility in my planned holidays (as long as I want), and possibility of creating a role that I would find fit and good for me - all to keep me in the company. Now what?

It did not resolve anything, obviously. I sat there running out of things to say. I've totally failed to live by my conviction that in this situation, I'd be swinging things to go MY way. But fair enough, these two wouldn't be in their position if they are not that smooth and that convincing. They want to hold on to my resignation, but for me to take the weekend to rethink it. And now I am racking my brains for answers. I want to kick myself for being a coward to their niceness and high regard for me, I was not able to once again drive my point that no matter what is laid out on the plate, I have set my mind to go. The thing that is holding me back is that I do not like to disappoint, but in this case it looks like I would have to. It's now a matter of getting the courage and thickness of face to do so.

It'll be Friday the 13th all over again, come Monday.

Talking Back

2006-10-09T18:02:00.000+10:00

Saturday morning a girlfriend and I sat on a bench outside the Queen Victoria Market thoroughly enjoying the glorious and warm day, huge bratwursts, on one hand and eyes busily checking out people who are passing by. Half an hour of doing so and our food all gobbled up, we discuss our findings. A surprisingly high proportion of the men we saw were quite young, decent and good-looking, which makes us wonder, is the fruit and veggie market now the place to get a kick of checking out the opposite gender? Many are clad in khaki shorts, nice tees, simple thongs (flip-flops ok!), stylish sunnies, and holding on to their bags filled with veggies and bread. In our minds, eye candies who can whip up a meal from real stuff and not from boxes of Lean Cuisine? Very nice indeed. And then we figured, hmmm... surely there's a catch, they would either be married, attached, or gay. Bummer.

***

Some people will die from lack of attention. And I am all for letting them so. Those who would try so hard to come up with a story of their own to match other people's stories, those who would purposedly raise their voices and stress their words so that everyone could hear about how they are the highest paid amongst their circle of friends, those who would not wait for others to finish talking before they do a monologue disguised as a dialogue - I am bent to ignore, feign deafness to, and let rot the egos of these beings for they really do stretch my patience, and I am not very patient especially on a Monday.

***

Where can we be safe? Nowhere really. All around us, we see warnings and signs of possible terrorist attacks - suspicious bags and boxes, dodgy parked cars, etc. People are being educated on how to identify these activities. But can we really? Excuse the sarcasm, but most of the time things happen first before preventative measures are put in place. Talk about foiling terrorist plans and tightening security, all but half baked potatoes. The sad sad president of the US talked about not being afraid, not faltering in the face of terrorism, but really... seriously and honestly, terror has already been instilled in the hearts of people. So all the fancy talk are just rubbish. Very recently, some claims have been made that bombers of the London Tube had earlier been instructed to release sarin gas in the change room of Edgbaston Cricket Ground to "wipe out" the Australian and English players. Reports said that a cricket-loving member of the group objected to this and so went on to carry out the London Tube bombing instead. Everyday in the papers there is news about new terrorist activities, or terrorist capture, doesn't it show that it already has gotten into us?

Men Are From Mars...

2006-09-26T22:47:00.000+10:00

When a colleague unexpectedly received a beautiful bouquet of long-stemmed roses from her husband, the oohs and aahs from the ladies were quite beyond audible, glee and excitement easily and quickly filled the area. It wasn't her birthday, nor was it their anniversary. There was no occasion for the flowers, but a casual simple surprise for her. Isn't that lovely? Well, at least all the ladies agreed and thought so! Compliments flying around the room, with how sweet and thoughtful the husband is, etcetera etcetera. All coming from the ladies, just the ladies. The recipient of the roses was obviously basking in the attention. Any woman would be flattered, with thoughts of how special she is to be given such a pleasant surprise.

However, not to disregard the reactions from the other species, for their deliberate snickers were as unmistakable as the women's chatter. We talk about these men, these creatures so different, whose opinions and way of thinking are so beyond us. The first question that was uttered by the first guy to see the roses was: "What has he done?????" in an exaggerated manner. And other statements followed, such as "He must have done something realllllyyyy bad." or "You better watch out, he's up to something!" Many eyes were rolling. Unbelievable remarks! In no time, these men have come up with gazillions of jokes and out-of-this-world reasons with reference to the flowers, hypothesising (quite wrongly...) on this particular action of the husband. What the heck, I don't know if I should shake my head or laugh, although I kind of couldn't help my amusement of these coconut-brains.

Who could understand men? But in all fairness, who could understand women? While one group sees the aforementioned gesture (of sending little surprises) as positive, one which gives the tingles and fluttery-feelings, the other group views it as bribe, bait, or allurement of some sort. Send a girl flowers at work and she'll be candy-eyes for at least a couple of minutes, she'll love the attention and curiosity from others! Send a guy flowers at work and he'll probably hide under his desk and pretend that it's sent to the wrong person.

Ah! Men! To keep your sanity intact, never endeavour to gain a full understanding or conduct a study. Success is unattainable.

Bridezillas

2006-09-19T19:11:00.000+10:00

Some women really go psycho before they get married. That was a statement coming from a friend (whom we shall call M) whose best friend (whom we shall call V) is soon to tie the knot. What M is saying is that her best friend has gone totally mental, and all caused by the impending marriage. And no, we are not talking about wedding jitters, cold feet, or being obsessed with every minute detail of the planning, for these are but normal, oh well... acceptable, especially if it's the woman's first time to get married. Bits and pieces of the story she told me left me dumbfounded with the series of events she had endured.

Being picked as bride's maid or one of the bride's maids to a wedding is an honour. It is exciting and good fun. On the contrary, to M, she'd been through a hell ride, and back. One of the four bride's maids to V, she helped organise a bridal shower and practically oversaw a whole night's event. She bought a cake worth a couple of hundreds of dollars, decorated the party venue, organised food, entertained guests, ran around serving people drinks, while the other three bride's maids seeing that she's doing well, just sat and relaxed. Naturally at the end of the evening, M is exhausted... and came up with a cold. During this time, the bride-to-be rang and asked her to help out in a family gathering (sort of another mini celebration for the upcoming wedding) to which M apologetically refused because she was feeling unwell. It was all cool by the bride... until a few days after when M received a phonecall from her, ranting about how disappointed she was at M for not being there to lend a hand, that she felt she's been let down, and the prolonged outburst of bitter, unreasonable words went on and on. Not happy, furious, that's what M felt. She's just ran around like a slave, putting her body into exhaustion, all unappreciated and in the end still to receive accusation from the friend who picked her as bride's maid. Bride's slave, that sounds more like it.

It's not the end of the saga... for with weddings come dresses, shoes, make up, hotels, etc. Everything translates to expenses. Now, the way I am used to... at least back in Asia, is that the couple getting married would shoulder the cost of the dresses/suits of the wedding entourage. This is a kind of appreciation to them who are gracious to be in the bridal party. Here, it is not the same, what you are to don, you purchase with your own moolah. Now, it may still be reasonable if in such situation, the bride's maids are given some free thinking to choose their own dresses, ofcourse still adhering to the bride's wishes on motif. But to have someone else impose on the style, cut, and the amount of money you yourself have to shell out to be in someone else's wedding entourage, that is a bit over the top. Especially if it's $500 for a dress you probably wouldn't want to ever wear again. Just this Saturday past, I had coffee with M while she pours out her frustration; she just went to pick up and pay for the over $200 shoes she has to wear as a bride's maid. I had a good look at it, and I knew I could get a much nicer pair for less than half the amount (although I just kept these thoughts to myself...)

As if these are not enough, V the bride had also previously suggested to her four bride's maids to book and stay at the hotel where the wedding is going to be held the night prior... so them girls could "bond." And but of course, charged to each individual's credit card. Seriously, this can be screened for Scary Movie: The Wedding. My goodness, I've never imagined anyone to be so inconsiderate. M will definitely be much relieved when this wedding is over and done with. The friendship? I would say that there's already harm done in that department.

Surely, there couldn't be many of these situations... I thought. But nah-ah, apparently it happens fairly often. Another colleague was ranting over lunch about how big a hole in the pocket being bride's maid to her cousin has made. Aside from the "per normal" expensive dresses, shoes, and fee for the salon, the bride held her "hen's night" (bridal shower) up in the Goldcoast (hellloooo, it's more than 2 hours flight from Melbourne!) Air tickets, accommodation, and park tickets shouldered individually. For those who went, the damage was more than $1,400. For my colleague who flatly refused to ridiculously throw away hard-earned money like that, she apparently "offended" her cousin for not participating and wasn't spoken to for weeks.

Classic examples of bridezillas... they're out there!

P-I-C-A-S-S-O

2006-08-27T16:41:00.000+10:00

In the time of love and war, of which for the artist Pablo Picasso is between the period of 1935 and 1945... the years not only being tumultuous because of civil war and unrest but also being witness to the creation of much of Picasso's famous works, motivated and inspired both by war and the outcome of war and ah, of course his love affair with photographer and artist Dora Maar.

By no means am I an authority in art and its literature, and so whatever I say regarding an artwork would be purely amateur, insignificant to others but myself, and base on randomness in my thoughts and perceptions; and certainly not rooted in any study or academic investigation. Despite of that, I am still able to say that modern art is not exactly on top of my list of preferences. If there is an era for me to fancy, it will be that period and time of the Impressionists and the Post-Impressionists. And so my expectation was not too high up when we went to attend the exhibition of Picasso's work at the National Gallery of Victoria a couple of weeks ago.

Weird is how my unrefined self would classify many of Picasso's work. Avant-garde is probably how art connoisseurs would alternatively put it. Abstract? Master of cubist art? The distortions and angular, jagged features are pretty difficult to put together, or perhaps it is not really meant to be analysed in such a way. It is no surprise that during Hitler's regime, this sort of art was deemed as "degenerative" and the artists of such degenerative art are classified as abnormal for having that view of the world. Today, such artwork are worth millions. There is no contesting that Picasso is a talented artist and my eyes are not being unappreciative of his works... and although I still scoffed at his minotaur works where it is obvious that he portrays himself as the strong, powerful Greek mythological monster, conquering women and exalting masculinity (what a nutcase!), it is no doubt that each of his work and the development of his sketches, drawings, paintings are screaming with strong emotions - be it love, passion, anger, despair, etc. Anyway, my skepticism carried on until I saw a series of women paintings that struck me. And then a bit of approval crept in. Picasso's Weeping Woman series is painfully beautiful. For me, that is. Many said that he painted these because of quarrels with Dora Maar or pain caused to a lover, and that the weeping woman is Dora Maar. But it is also said, and perhaps holds more validity and truth, that the series resulted from the devastation and emotions, raw anguish felt after the bombing and raid of Guernica, where many lives were taken and a town destroyed. Suffering and pain persists in the exaggerated drawing of the weeping face, eyes very huge and almost bulging out, tears like continuous stream of water, the eye socket almost torn and weighed down by heavy, sharp nails.

It is interesting to see the development of art and the artist's style. For most artists, their art would be influenced by events in their lives, their view of the world when they created the work, injected with what they feel at that particular time. With Pablo Picasso, it is evident that he, a womanizer, produces works that are inspired mostly by the different women and love of the different periods of his life. With Dora Maar, he also learned to do and manipulate photo prints, he drew and took pictures of Dora Maar; she is behind many of his paintings. In works of art, we see a snapshot of events long past, of what made up our history, a peek through the eyes and soul of those who are gifted enough to put them in canvas.

Three

2006-08-15T23:48:00.000+10:00

There are more than three things of everything about me, and so this would put me into a bit of thinking... nonetheless, in a nutshell...

3 Things that scare me:

cockroaches
men (sometimes)
the idea of not remembering...

3 People who can make me laugh:

Andrew
Apple
Charchar

3 Things I love (people not included):

Max, my dog
the beach
lazy weekends

3 Things I hate:

being made to wait and making other people wait
people who leech
the taste of cheese

3 Things I don't understand:

Andrew's research (heehee!)
players
the mind of a murderer

3 Things on my (office) desk:

post-it notes
coffee mug
wet wipes

3 Things I'm doing right now:

waiting for my laundry to finish its last spin cycle
thinking about my next vacation in Manila
eating Pringles

3 Things I want to do before I die:

buy a farm, build a nice house in the farm, live in the farm
be able to give anything and everything to my parents with no constraint and difficulty
raise a family

3 Things I can do:

change a tyre
ride a horse
make his heart flutter

3 Ways to describe my personality:

unpredictable
happy
can be ridiculously OC

3 Things people might not know about me:

have 14kg of fat in me
don't like following instructions
know how to use a .45 and an M16

3 Things I can't do:

ride a bike
rope skip
stitch and sew

3 Things I think you should listen to:

your grandparents
your parents
your conscience!

3 Things I don't think you should listen to ever:

most politicians
Big Brother (and similar sort of crap)
people who say that you're not good enough

3 Of my absolute favorite foods:

carrots
bulgogi
salmon

3 Things I'd like to learn:

make mosaics
ski
drive on the left side of the road

3 Beverages I drink regularly:

coffee
ginger tea or earl grey
water

3 Shows I watched when I was a child:

The A Team
Biomen
Voltes V

And finally I would like to tag:

Songs of the Wanderers

2006-08-06T22:31:00.000+10:00

Photo courtesy of Cloud Gate

It was the music that captured my heart and attention the most; the meditative, touching, and almost eerie sound of chanting seems like it's coming from deep within one's soul. I can't put a finger on what it was, but the closest description I could give it would be that it's like the Gregorian chants, but not exactly, not exactly. Depending on one's mood, it could either be soothing and calming, or chilling... I experienced both sensations throughout the performance. Whilst it was the music that struck me the most, I don't imply that rest of the work didn't make an impression. In fact, every poignant scene has been ingrained in memory.

Songs of the Wanderers is a stunning, beautiful, and unique work of art presented in skillfully crafted dance choreography, blending in Eastern and Western symbolisms and traditions. It is like no other performances I have seen before. At the start, as silent as the mist, as dark as the night's curtain, the stage was a mystery in itself. And then the pouring of grain, illuminated into golden colours, it does not stop. The grain continues to pour down on a silent, unmoving figure situated at the right of the stage. A praying monk, head bowed, eyes closed, hands clasped in meditation, with rice falling on his head and slowly piling up around him. Yet for a whole 90 minutes, he remains motionless, not a heave, not a twitch. He is calm.

The dancers come out, their movements slow, expressive, purposeful. Blank faces, eyes searching far, and then suddenly they express pain and anguish, depicting so much of human suffering. Whether in stillness or in their moving forms, the dancers performed in a simplistic fashion but at the same time with such intensity that it reverberates through one's soul. For each arm reaching out, for each body arching back, for each step forward, and each person falling down... there was an abundance of emotion and meaning, about spirituality, sin and repentance, human effort, disappointment and fulfilment, life and death, the cycle that begins and then ends... and that which starts again. I was engulfed in the world that was being created on stage.

The company behind this creation is the internationally-reknowned Cloud Gate Dance Theatreof Taiwan. It's founder Lin Hwai Min is famous for his creative use and fusion of contemporary and modern dance with meditation, tai chi, qi gong, and martial arts. They were here in Melbourne and performed at The Arts Centre as part of Victoria's celebration of cultural diversity. A lover of the performing arts, it was the first of Cloud Gate's works that I have seen, and I am glad that I did. Thanks to A for taking me to the show. 'Til the next artsy date!

Tick

2006-07-26T18:21:00.000+10:00

If I hadn't known better, I would also think that THAT is an obese koala. Thank you Wes for such an apt description on Andrew's comment board. The similarity is indeed unmistakable, and that's because perhaps the koala is the closest "brother" to the wombat. A wombat? A wom-what?! Aren't those the creatures that hang upside down on creepy old trees or cave ceilings? Nope. Those are bats. They are definitely not kin. The wombat hasn't quite grown wings yet and is pretty hefty and heavy to be hanging and swinging itself on branches. These burrowing marsupials can grow quite big and can weigh up to 30kg. They're stubby, chunky, have sharp claws and incisors, and although they look slow, wombats can be nimble. Cute as they may appear, they can very well defend themselves with mighty headbutts! Australia is so far from everywhere else (except for New Zealand) that its native animals have evolved to be quite unique and different from the rest of the world's.

Staying in a rented cottage in a farm during a trip to Lake Entrance, eastern Victoria, we had the luck to bump into and get introduced to Tick - the cuddly piece of meat on the picture. At that time, she was around two months old. Wombats are born to be in the wild, they're not usually kept as pets. But in Tick's case, its mother was found on the road, shot, with little Tick still inside its pouch. The owner of the farm brought it home and nursed it to health. Tick follows the farm owner's daughter M around as if she's the mother, it'd roll and rub itself on the grass and scratch itself with the hind legs. She loves the attention and would let people carry and cuddle her, she's obviously been tamed. However, she is still a wombat, not meant to be confined in human homes nor remain unfamiliar of the wild. In no time, she'll have to be introduced back to the wild; she'd have to find a mate and go back to its natural lifestyle. Tick is already being taught how to search for food, as there will be no filled-up bowl waiting for her when she is released. M spent hours and hours bent on all fours, with Tick under her, teaching and training her to graze on grass and shrubs and dig to find roots. She is encouraged to practise headbutting to defend herself. Hopefully when the time comes, she'll be ready.

Flying Thoughts coz It's Cold

2006-07-16T09:55:00.000+10:00

The first thing that most people do when they wake up in the morning is to stumble their way into the bathroom and do whatever nature and personal hygiene calls them to do. I spend a good half an hour in there each morning, maybe more if I let myself a little doze in the shower. In cold winter months, the next best thing after a warm bed is a hot bath. And in cold winter months, stumbling into a cold bathroom is an unpleasant wake up call. I hate electric heaters, they suffocate me, make my lips, nostrils, eyes, and skin dry. Good quality moisturisers are expensive and the kilowatts clocked up by heaters will give you a heart attack when utility statements arrive after winter. And so with that out of the question, only the soft, warm duvet gives comfort... a comfort that can easily be stripped away with the sound of the alarm. Arghhh. Tiptoe into the bathroom, get a shocker with stepping on cold floor tiles... sit on the toilet and holy guacamole, get a jolt with an instant butt-frozen-over effect. I should get myself a new bathroom. Mental note to self #1 - in the future, consider under-tile heating, it's programmable for desired temperature too! Mental note to self #2 - get toilet seat warmers, the fluffy ones(?)... although this would be real icky if "accidents" happen. Gross.

If this weather is just not too conducive to hibernation, I'd be out and about in the park instead of almost murdering that jar of honey, the lid of which has stuck on ever so tightly. I just want some honey with my tea, is that too difficult an ask, do I have to thaw it as well? The squeeze ones are no better, when its hole gets stuck with solidified muck, the more force you put will see you with super glue-like substance all over the kitchen bench. The red wine no longer at proper room temperature like it should be. The good thing is, the greens and herbs live longer, the Coke still chilly even when kept out of the fridge, food don't spoil as easily, and the fashionable knee-length boots are out prancing about once again.

That's what winter does, a hell of a kicker for household chores, a hell of a longer wait for the tram that comes just a second before your frozen nose cracks and shaves itself off. On the other hand, at this time of the year, it is once again a time to dust off those beautiful coats and colourful scarves, time to put the beanies, mittens, and all those fluff back on show. Time for the southern whales to migrate from the antarctic to the Australian waters, time to hug more, time for a change in season.

Cold-butted or not, not to worry because it's nothing that a hot bowl of soup can't fix.

Sniffles and Krispy Kreme

2006-07-12T20:19:00.000+10:00

A sound like a croak of a frog, that's what my voice is like at the moment. And yes I am almost as deaf as a twig. It sucks being sick. Just having been in scorching Manila and topped off by HK heat, then arriving right smack in the middle of Melbourne winter... is a bad bad idea. Not that it can be helped. When it's biting cold, we complain. When it's too dry and hot, we complain. There's no end to it. That is probably why there's an entire news section to talk about the weather, as boring as it may sound.

Day off from work? I wish, but not a chance! Not when I've just been away for 3.5 weeks... I'll be stretching the generosity and leniency shown towards me if I do so. 3.5 weeks is long (not so when you're back), but evident from the pile of work greeting me on Monday when I went in the office. For three days now, my bin would be three quarters full of crumpled Kleenex. Heavy head, heavy lids, itchy throat and nose, coughing like hell... it's that time that one craves most for mom's home-made chicken soup. I'll even take the duck soup with all those herbal medicine that used to be forced on me. It doesn't help when the air is thick with the word "deadline" and "pressure", as such the boss is at your back, and the boss's boss is at his back, and the boss's boss's boss is at the boss's boss back... if you get the drift... because the one who ends up staying late is the one who doesn't have the title of the "boss" yet! Ayayayyy!

It's mid-July, in less than two months' time... radios in the Philippines would be playing Christmas carols. Oh how I miss that kind of atmosphere! Am I going back again at the end of the year? Think about that when the time is near. In the meantime, I hope the sniffles will go away and that I get my Krispy Kreme from Sydney tonight!

Today Someone Attacked R

2006-07-03T23:40:00.000+10:00

So, what was the hightlight of the day? Was it rushing through morning rituals in a short 20 minutes and careening through Roxas Boulevard in order to get to the "supposedly" biggest mall in Asia on time? That's only the beginning. The biggest mall is, well... a huge expanse of area quite difficult to shop around in. We didn't have the time to go around... but maybe next time. Anyway, we went to see Superman Returns on the new iMax theatre. Oooh, what a thrill to see the handsome superhero in 3D!!!...if only we could grab him *sigh* and hold him tight *sigh*. And you'd think that it was the highlight eh? Not yet. Climactic drum roll..... as people piled out of the cinema after the movie, we suddenly heard angry voices behind us, and before we knew it someone (female) was scratching, screaming at, and hitting our friend R. The guards couldn't restrain her at first! The guys with her were also verbally abusing R. Confused at what was happening and the reason for such madness, we hang around (of course we were not going to leave our friend to be butchered by these lunatics noh!). These people, who were seated a row behind us in the theatre, were saying that our friend slapped their female companion. And for which reason?... according to them, because the kids with them were "excited" and thus must have "unintentionally" annoyed our friend. Is that a reason for him to put a hand on a lady's face? 'Course not... but 'course that was not the whole story! And was it really him deliberately slapping her? Seems that they've tweaked a bit and made a shortcut to the ending before a logical processing of the series of events have been looked at.

The story: rowdy kids very noisy during the movie, and to top it off, endlessly kicking at R's seat (that's not really our vesion of "excitement"). Hellooo...even I would be incensed. Imagine a constant banging behind you while you're trying to peacefully enjoy a film. He turned around and said "Hoy!" but that's all. Perhaps his tone was a stern one. No one can blame him for being annoyed right? And so the woman (supposedly the lola of the kids) starting hitting him from behind, just because he said "Hoy!" to the kids. Reaction?... to defend himself. And so there, after the movie there comes the action; if there were no mediators there he could have been badly hurt by these crazy people. The woman was dragging R by the collar refusing to let him go while she attacks him. Goodness. She was yelling that R shouldn't treat kids like that because... well they are kids and it's natural for them to get excited and be rowdy when watching Superman. Wow... and so people should just sit back and take the endless punching and kicking of the headboard of the seats while trying to enjoy a movie? And so because they're kids making a mess, they shouldn't be reprimanded? As Char puts it, they should be disciplining their kids instead of making excuses for them. If they can't, then they shouldn't be brought inside the theatre (or to any public places where they are most capable of disturbing unsuspecting people). Phullleeeze. We all paid the same price to watch the show, and if someone's gonna spoil it for one person, then heck he has every right to be angry. He wasn't the one who got physical first anyway. Ah, one more thing that these psychos were saying... that R shouldn't have fought back because the other party's a woman. Not defend yourself because it's the "weaker gender" on the aggressive mode? Duh. Wait, weren't it women who wants equality? *toinks* What a day! I hope there are no bruises R!!!

Tis not that Dying hurts us so

2006-06-24T11:21:00.000+10:00

Often we try to comfort ourselves with many a reason for things that happen, we try to comprehend by asking questions and making up answers. At the same time, hundreds of other questions linger in our minds, whether they be things we really do not know or things we blame ourselves for or things we wish have gone differently. Perhaps it is just the way humans are, we are in constant search for answers to life's (or death's) many questions. Some times, there are no real answers, and we should be at peace with that fact. Everything goes in full circles, eventually.

'Tis not that Dying hurts us so --
'Tis Living -- hurts us more --
But Dying -- is a different way --
A Kind behind the Door --

The Southern Custom -- of the Bird --
That ere the Frosts are due --
Accepts a better Latitude --
We -- are the Birds -- that stay.

The Shrivers round Farmers' doors --
For whose reluctant Crumb --
We stipulate -- till pitying Snows
Persuade our Feathers Home.

- Emily Dickinson

Capone

2006-06-04T23:44:00.000+10:00

He has definitely gotten himself a spot in the heart of everyone who lives along our little lane. One would often find him curled up on top of some car in the garage, most likely one that has just driven in and with the engine still hot. The ginger cat with the sure, relaxed, almost arrogant gait is no other than Capone. He is a neighbour's cat, but in reality he must feel like he's everyone's master. When he fancies it, he'll be quite friendly and follow you around. But on occasions, he won't even flinch or respond to your whistles because he is on an agenda. Once I saw him on top of the roof trying to catch some birds... poor Capone the bell around his neck is a dead giveaway.

For two days he was with us. One early morning, I was about to head off to work... I opened the door and suddenly an orange thing bolted to the doorstep. Ah, ol' Capone must be freezing outside! But there's no way I would let him in. So I closed the door behind me, and walked off. His stares must have made me turn back; in no time I have opened the door again for him and he ran straight in... I headed off to work. He has been sleeping on the comfy white chair the whole day. In the evening, he wouldn't leave even with much prodding. He'll sniff the cold night's air, take one step and turn back to jump onto the chair he's taken as territory. He slept on the beanbag for half the night, when I realised (for the second half) that he's taken the liberty to share my duvet. Sneaky!

The second day and second night he was still making himself comfortable around the place. Sniffing around, curious of every single thing, even the papers and crosswords. Now who wouldn't fall in love and want to keep such a sweet (although sneaky, sometimes snobbish furball)?

The look of a cat who thinks he's better than anybody else. Crosswords eh?... I found myself a new challenger!

Capone now deep in concentration, even he couldn't figure out some of the impossibly difficult words!

Beware the Cranky Me

2006-05-28T21:59:00.000+10:00

Cranky. Oh yes that was me. That was me when... quietly preparing to slip into the piece of swimwear, a sudden yank of the change room curtain exposed my naked self to the eyes of a total stranger! Female but stranger all the same. A millisecond of shock, and then the temper. She excused herself and said that she did not see anything. The hell she didn't, but she just intruded on my privacy and I am nothing else but crossed. There was no hesitation when I cracked it and spoke my mind. To be honest I wasn't in the most perfect of moods and most pleasant of state that day, thus the retail therapy... and then came the ignoramus. Yes, my language... watch my language, but I write with full feelings and with no pretense of niceness or charm when I want so much to be the opposite. Sure, it obviously was not intentional. I guess idiocy is not intentional too huh. There were about ten cubicles for changing, with only about 3 - 4 occupied, and that halfwit chose to make a beeline for the one at the far left end with curtains drawn and with a tag bearing the number of items for fitting that is so hard to miss. Isn't that obvious enough that someone is inside? Argh!

This led me into thinking about change room etiquette. What can do and what can't do? Drawn curtains, visible feet and legs from the bottom... signs that it is occupied! If unsure, it does not hurt to holler and ask. There are some fitting rooms which are communal, with big mirrors all around. In these, people normally take a certain corner and mind their own business. Bad to stare at others, directly or through the mirrors. It is also a no go to check other people's arses out, comparing them to your own imperfect one. I also find that many would just leave the clothes they have tried on inside the change room, that is ok as long as they have been hang on the hook or placed neatly on the bench. There are those who treat departments stores and fitting rooms like their own bedrooms, with the change of clothes strewn around on the floor. Unbelievable. And, if I may say... I would not hesitate to blow my cap off towards the mother of naughty toddlers/kids crawling under other people's occupied change rooms! Yeah yeah they are innocent, unknowing, little kids... but they have eyes, I don't like being ogled at! So either they're kept behaved not leaving their mom's side, or they be put on a leash (at least in change rooms!)

Oh man, of course I am fully aware of the above statements reeking with meanness. And I am not taking them back.

The Sickie

2006-05-17T09:29:00.000+10:00

Whoa, another sneaky sickie eh? Well not, at least not this time. Pulling a sickie is mean mean business, unless of course if you're really on massive doses of antibiotics and with limbs almost hanging out by death's cliff. Because if that is the case, believe me, it'll show, there will be no need for pretense and pale make up. On other less serious circumstances though, it is a different ball game. Calling in work and telling the boss that you're "feeling a bit under the weather" is just another way of saying that you don't feel like rocking up today becuase the sun is shining too brightly outside and it will be such a waste of your life to be confined in the office. "A throbbing headache" or "coming up with a cold" are just too lame and totally, totally not convincing at all. If you're coming up with a cold, it is still on the way and hasn't come yet right?...so might as well go to work and see if the cold really rears up its ugly head, coz in many cases it doesn't! If you are to invent it, spare yourself the modesty, be creative. Say, a stomach/intestinal infection sounds a helluva better than "gas" and "stomach ache" right? For girls, sometimes it's helpful to throw in some terms like "dysmenorrhea."

Now, as much as we want to shy away from directly speaking to our bosses to inform them of this "unplanned" absence, it is a no-go to casually shoot them an email and forget about everything. Do call! Piece of advice, the earlier in the morning, the better, more effectively just the second after you turn from your bed, this is the time that you'll have the sickest, croakiest voice; if you're a good actor throw in a few coughs or throat-clearing sounds as well but do not overdo it. Oh, another thing... calling on a Monday morning is slightly more suspicious than chucking in a sickie in the middle of the week. Why? Well, if you have a reputation of getting trashed during weekends, then there is no better explanation for Monday morning sickness rather than just overindulging in alcohol the previous day, isn't it? So, Monday sickies, avoid it. There goes your plan for long, laid back weekends. By all means, stay away from the pub or restaurants near your work place, that will be suicide to be seen with a pot of beer in your hand while you're supposed to be home sick. If you need to go out of the house, make sure to rug up, complete with beanie and all, this works two ways - for disguise, or a convincing attire to say that you're on the way to the doctors should you bump into one of your colleagues.

Do not turn up the next day newly manicured, pedicured, sporting a new haircut or even worse, a tan! All the hard work of acting will immediately get flushed down the drain, if you so idiotically do the above. You'd want to be seen as "not fully recovered" but "recovering" in order to generate the sort of concern you'd like (and to dissuade any more work thrown at your desk for the meantime at least). Do what you can, run to the loo a couple of times, let out a big fat flatulence (ooh!), look nauseous - to achieve this, you may want to stick some hot jalapeno peppers up your nostrils for full effect, don't talk too much, and sulk. Perhaps discreetly mention the word "specialist" and "infection" and "tests" over the phone when your boss is within earshot. No doubt, all threads of suspicion will soon be gone.

The above is written for fun, I am not suggesting that you do them (disclaimer), just some things to ponder upon when "situations" arise. Tee-hee! I gotta go, got a massssssiiiiivvvveee headache.

To Queue Up: A Complex Idea

2006-05-07T13:50:00.000+10:00

Haven't we been taught since young to observe proper behaviour and good manners? Weren't we made to strictly abide by signs put up in gardens to not pick the flowers, feed the birds, throw our litters on the ground, or stick chewing gum under chairs and desks? Hasn't it been over and over again ingrained in us to fall in queue, get a number, wait for our turn to be served, knock before barging in someone else's room? Didn't we already get enough serious scolding or punishment for being late, acting boisterously when we shouldn't be, or for being mean, unreasonable, and playing out other unaccepted mannerisms and behaviours?

Well, obviously some didn't learn these rules well enough by heart, or just simply chose to fling them out of the window. It is annoying when a child misbehaves repeatedly or purposedly ignore what he knows is the right thing to do; we do sometimes let them off for the (lame) excuse that they are children. However, when it is an adult who commits the same offense, it is not only annoying, but infuriating, and we have lesser tolerance. One particular example, Sunday last week four of us went to see the Comedy Festival. Twenty minutes before the show people started forming a queue, oh yes, Wil Anderson shows are pretty popular and if you're not fast enough you'd be watching it from the very back. Good for us, we were early to avoid the rapidly piling up of people behind us. But what do you know, some are obviously even "faster" and "well prepared..." We were taken aback when a group of four suddenly pressed themselves in front of us... at first we though that they might be together with the other group who are already queueing up ahead but we asked and they weren't. Well well well, in case they have missed the river of people properly standing in line, we had to remind them, right? But duh, even the most short-sighted ones wouldn't be that blind. And so, very politely, our friend J called their attention and told them that the queue is uhmmm...over there, pointing to the far end. The response that he got?... "Oh, we were here over an hour ago, we just went away to snack and have coffee." We weren't too impressed. And in my mind, oh hellllloooooo, what a brilliant idea, come mark your spot with a bit of a wee like a dog does maybe, trot away and return happily after an hour claiming back your territory. Humour me please! Hey mister, although your behaviour speaks othewise, I can still see that you're bipedal, ergo human(?) as you are dressed to the nines. I must snobbishly say though that fine garments and accessories may shroud physical imperfections, but in no way can it conceal poor breeding. And cutting the line is not class at all.

If society doesn't have some set rules for people to observe, then we would definitely be in a ridiculously chaotic state (not that we aren't already in), but even worse I dare to say. If everyone is free to do whatever he pleases, when and how he pleases it, and according to his own twisted sense of reasoning, then you wouldn't even want to ask me what I'd be getting up to. If one finds difficulty in following simple civilities and decorum, such as queueing up, expressing gratitude or apology when it is in order, honouring a verbal or written contract, then how could this person give any regard to responsibilities that require trust and honesty in more complex situations?

Some people seriously need to be enlisted to etiquette and manners school, beat the innate polite nature out of them, or if they have none, then forcibly feed them those concepts well enough for them to be able to exercise them. We certainly do not need any more embarrassment to mankind.

Hydromassage

2006-04-29T15:57:00.000+10:00

Last week I went to the Jurlique Wellness Sanctuary Day Spa at Chapel Street for a hydromassage session. I once thought that spas are overrated and their popularity would soon die down just like any other trend has. Wrong thinking. It is no argument that spas and treatments are still considered as indulgence; but these establishments have marketed themselves well enough to be seen beyond its extravagance face. They have managed to shift the focus into health and well-being, not a bad concept considering the increasing awareness and attention that people nowadays put into healthy living.

As one steps inside the place, there is an instant change in atmosphere; its lowly-lit lights and misty cool temperature being a total contrast from outside's glaring afternoon sunshine. Tea is offered, a change in robes available, and a very calming silence that carries out a very soft, almost silvery, eastern music gives a soothing effect. The 45-minutes hydromassage session puts you in a special tub designed to accommodate the contour of the body; the water temperature is at around 26-degree water; it has buttons to program the treatment. A choice of essential oil and bath salts, and you're on. I was still a skeptic at that point. My idea of a massage is a full-on application of pressure that can only come from strong hands and fingers, what better ways can really unknot those tension balls but that? Water can't do that, or can it? But after a few minutes of the underwater pressure and different body-point stimulation from the water, I started to feel some tension released. Accompanied with a light head massage from the therapist, I now think that I fell into lull and half dosed off. I do not know how three quarters of an hour can go by that quickly with me just laying there and without feeling restless and bored. I suppose it was that good.

I think it was Char who said that after 45 minutes in the water, I'd look like a prune, all wrinkly and soft. Ha ha! That was not the case darling. There was a a full-body after-treatment lotion application, and that felt (and smelled) wonderful as well. Feels great to occasionally be pampered. I had such a good sleep that night.

Super Loo

2006-04-23T13:55:00.000+10:00

It is referred to with many a name in different parts of the world. To adopt many European countries' usage... a water closet or simply a WC... toilette if you're French or trying to be. Plain toilet for most of us, or if you choose to be more adventurous, a squat toilet perhaps. We also call it restroom as if it's a place for relaxation or pampering your bottoms (imagine aromatique candles burning, lots of magazines, a place where you could spend hours in), so which smart guy invented this term anyway? Only in the Philippines, often much to the confusion of foreigners and visitors, we call it CR, short for comfort room. We go overseas and ask for the comfort room, forgetting that it is the Filipino's local terminology. For the life of me, I have no idea of its etymology and would be curious to find out as well. Surely there are more quirky references which we do not know of, but in my limited knowledge these are what I can produce. Last but not the least in the roster, and which I believe is English in origin, the "loo" is the mose popular one that is used in my side of the world. Short, simple, and sweet, ain't it? No frills. In a recent trip to New Zealand however, the good ol' loo was beefed up a bit, giving it some kind of a superhero appeal. Have a look at the picture. I did a double take when I spied it while driving around Taupo, I made nice, trusty Andrew manoeuvre around swiftly so I could take a shot of the sign.

Now, who wouldn't be enticed to check the interiors out? :-)

Tram Story 3

2006-04-22T09:23:00.000+10:00

In my previous two tram stories, observations on conversations and behaviours of passengers were told. In this one, the spotlight goes to the tram driver. My very simple categorisation of them - either they're nice or they're rude. The nice ones, well... the stories would be quite dry eh?... just your regular accommodating driver who answers your questions on directions, stops, tram routes politely, and who would occasionally strike up a chit chat and wish you well on your journey. End of story. There really couldn't be any more than that because their eyes and concentration have to be on the road. That leaves us with the rude ones, and boy oh boy once you meet them once, you keep on bumping into them again!

The two recent rude driver incidents that irked me the most happened a week apart from each other, which got me into serious thinking of writing YarraTrams to complain. Perhaps nothing worse could start one's morning off than missing his transport, be it a bus, a train, or a tram. In the two instances I refer to, I didn't miss my tram, but I was deliberately left behind! The first incident, running towards the stop while the tram was approaching, complete in stilettos and running against the blowing cold, early morning Melbourne wind, I caught a glimpse of the driver's face and she caught a glimpse of the running figure. Our eyes met, only for a second. I continued running while it continues to the stop. I got to the end of the tram as its doors were closing. So I pressed the button again for the door to open. It did not. I pressed it again, nothing... and then the lights turned green and so the tram driver drove away! Of course I was exasperated! I couldn't believe that she refused to open the door for a passenger while she was on halt anyway. Others may reason that she probably didn't know I was pressing the door button. I think otherwise. She knew I was running for that ride. She deliberately ignored the alert that some one is wanting to go on board. I could only stare in disbelief as the tram gets smaller and smaller, standing there in the freezing cold. There was a witness... an inspector, who approached me and apologised for what happened. He took down the number of the tram driver and told me that he saw what happened and that he'll speak with her when she returns. Man, if it was my personal chauffeur, I would have fired her instantly. What was in her mind? What, that I could always catch the next tram? What if I needed to go on her route? Did it give her a sense of satisfaction knowing that she had that power to shut someone off and make them miss their transport? Whatever her reasons were, it certainly did not make YarraTrams image all the better. Should I write them an infringement notice as well for failing to do their job properly, just as what they do to passengers who fail to produce a valid ticket? The second time was just this week, exactly the same thing, different tram driver though. Oh yes, I do remember their faces.

So, it's not only passengers who could be a pain in the ass. Tram drivers can be too. They need a good beating.

Tram Story 2

2006-04-08T13:05:00.000+10:00

Trams come at a couple of minutes interval, depending on the area and the time of day. Generally on morning and evening peak hours, there are more trams at shorter time intervals, especially on routes to and fro the CBD. And so naturally, it is no surprise that in some occasions there will be what I'd call a "tram jam" (imagine several trams bumper to bumper). On each stop, there will either be railings or a slightly elevated platform. These are the "safety zones", and the length of these are about the length of one and a half trams.

On the way to work one fine morning, obviously during peak hour, we were experiencing some form of a tram jam. At one major stop where people get off for connecting trams, our tram was third on queue. We had to wait for the first two or at least the first tram to keep moving before we could move forward to the proper stop zone. A few minutes into the wait, a man who is about in his mid forties hollered in a deep booming voice for the driver to open the tram door. A tram would normally have three doors - front, middle, and back. The newer, longer trams would probably have around four. This man was close to the middle door, not near the driver at all. Therefore, his voice carried its way across the whole tram. And how could the driver answer him?... with his microphone? Duh. Of course the door didn't open for him. So once again, he impatiently repeated his request but was again ignored. And for a good reason I say! Although we were near the stop, we weren't AT the stop and we weren't AT the safety zone. At this point, I was also thinking to myself, why couldn't he just walk towards the front and speak to the driver quietly instead of having his shouting spree for everyone to witness and hear? *shakes head*

Finally the trams moved, and we got to the proper stop zone and voila, the doors opened. People piled out including mr. impatient. You'd think it's the end of it eh, but no, he proceeded to the head of the tram and hurled insults at the driver. He started with angrily accosting him with why he didn't open the tram door. The tram driver explained that we weren't at the safety zone and it is regulation that the doors are kept shut until we reach the proper zone. Obviously not contented with the explanation and still seething from not having his orders heeded, he continued lambasting the driver with profanity, calling him a clown and all sorts of name. For goodness's sake, this guy just doesn't have a brain! If he was in such a hurry as his earlier manners and agitation for waiting suggested, he should have gone off quickly as soon as he got off the tram. But no, as if barking out abuses at the tram driver would do him any good and would make him right. It was pretty obvious to every witness in the tram that he is out of his mind and totally unreasonable. It was dangerous for the tram doors to open at the incorrect area as people getting off would find themselves in the middle of the road. Sad to say, some people just can't get this simple idea into their head.

Tram drivers don't have it easy too. Whilst many passengers are polite and would say thank you when they get on and off the tram, there are still those who treat them like a piece of garbage, and I'm serious. It's as if these people think that they are their personal chauffeurs to always say "aye sir!" And these drivers usually just take it, they can't get off the tram to defend themselves or fight back, right? I'm not suggesting though that all tram drivers are commendable, for there are some whom I'd like to give a piece of my mind to as well (but let's save that story for next time).

Ignorance of the law is no excuse. In this case, ignorance of the driver's responsibilities to keep passengers safe is no excuse for a passenger's bad behaviour. Name-calling is even worse. For such a petty thing, tempers flared. What more if it's something big?

Tram Story 1

2006-04-06T21:15:00.000+10:00

As usual, people piling into trams late in the afternoon... your young (and old) professionals, university students, parents with their school-age youngsters, (occasionally) some hippies and (one time too many) psychos, and [the others] as I would lazily categorise them. And per usual, whenever I get a seat I prefer one not by the window just for ease of getting out; you would imagine how crammed this "popular" mode of transport can get as more people push their way in at each stop.

I usually keep to myself. Of course there will be those who are the chatty type and try to strike a conversation, and that's alright. But generally, I just like to observe... or listen. No kidding, there are some "interesting" conversations one could overhear in his time travelling. "Interesting" encompasses a wide range of meaning, mind you, unpleasant being one of them. But for now, let's leave those at that.

What boggled my mind yesterday was the contradiction of what would commonly be good manners and right conduct. A mother and her young son (6-years old at maximum I would guess) hopped on board. The mom sat beside me while the boy sat across her. She gave him a bickie, he happily munched on it. First stop, he finished his food and started yapping (good manneredly of course). Second stop, she gave him another bickie... perhaps to shut him up... hee-hee! Third stop, more people piled in, including a lady probably in her 50s... but she has white hair. The young boy promptly stood up and offered his seat to her! Good on him, I couldn't help but smile. In a foreign language which I could understand, he happily seeked for his mom's approval saying: "I did the right thing eh? I offered my seat to an old person!" At this point I was amused, not with his action which I admire, but with his definition of an old person (I'm sure it's the white hair). All of a sudden the mom retorted: "Why did you have to do that?! Now you have to stand." She is obviously annoyed, and this for sure befuddled the young mind of this very well-mannered boy.

And I thought... what a parent. Wasn't she cranky! Instead of praising her child for being a gentleman, she disapproved of his good manners. Sometimes children make more sense than adults, really. I've seen many instances when an old person is ignored and left staggering in a moving tram, or passengers avoiding eye contact with an elderly or pregnant woman just so they won't have to offer their seats. Incredulous!

For the mom, shame on her. She needs to be educated by a small child.

Nuninuninu... + Tagged!

2006-03-25T18:55:00.000+11:00

It is not often that I get one whole weekend just to myself; in fact, days like this rarely come by. And if we were to roll time back to a couple of years prior to this day, one will never find me idle and free from any activity on such a nice Saturday. My weekends are normally fully booked out, just the way I like (or used to like) them to be. Out of town trips, a whole day of sports followed by evening tea with friends, movie nights, festivals, shopping sprees cum cafe breaks with girlfriends... things just keep on rolling. When I was still in university back in Manila, I would say a huge amount of my time was devoted to organisational activities, events plannings, and meetings, the occasional dates (tee-hee-hee!), just a tad bit more hours than my actual "studying" period. Often to my parents' frustration and obviously to my delight, my schedule's always overflowing. Those things fired me up, I couldn't stay still. I had to be doing something, and if I weren't I would find things to preoccupy myself before I go totally berserk. Quiet equated to boredom. During those days, New York was the place to be (or any city that can compare), a place to fulfill my longing for that fast-paced world, to fling the career aspirations into that direction.

Fast forward to this day. Waking up just a few minutes before 7am today, I allowed myself for more snooze time. Gone was that fiery instinct of jumping out of bed and mentally going through the list of things I have to do and accomplish for the day. When I felt like it, I got up and lazed around for a bit longer, had a leisurely browse in the market for fruits and fresh produce. A quiet morning. I let the afternoon breezed through without much of a disturbance, and while I slowly sipped my cappuccino that mellowness I needed kept me at peace. I had no conversations today, no discussions about work or current events, no dialogues about future plans, it's just a time for myself. And I like it. For me, tonight there will be no elaborate dinners, no friends over, no party... while everywhere else in the city will be all colours and lights, also with the celebration towards the conclusion of the Commonwealth games. The bars and restaurants and entertainment establishments will always be there, I don't feel the need to join in the merriment now. It's such a rarity to be in this kind of quietude, and I am resolved to have it all to myself. =) New York is no longer that ideal place where I've set my mind on years ago, in fact no one place has taken that seat yet. The times have softened me a bit.

*******

And now tagged again by my bosom buddy who recently celebrated her birthday. From Char, a dentist who wouldn't surprise if seen with a magic wand and waltzing around blowing out pixie dusts.

Four Jobs I've Had In My Life
1. Entertainer - once upon a time, the little girl who danced and sang for anyone, anywhere...even in a crowded mall.
2. Answering Machine - answered phone and took messages for my parents
3. Marketing Intern - In short, mega-slave in a marketing department doing anything and everything required
4. Business Analyst - previous and present job. Sigh I'm growing up!
Note: Notice the trend, the job cycle becomes less and less interesting huh? Dang! I want to go back to #1.

Four Films I Can Watch Over and Over
1. Sound of Music
2. You've Got Mail
3. Love Actually
4. Annie

Four Places I Would Have Visited, Had I Had The Money
1. Egypt
2. Switzerland
3. Italy
4. Antarctica

Four Websites I Visit Daily
1. Gmail
2. Bureau of Meteorology - seriously!!!
3. Yahoomail
4. My company website, section that lists the security prices

Four Of My Favorite Foods
1. Korean bbq
2. unagi
3. salmon
4. onions - the cooked ones ok!

Four Places I Would Rather Be
1. Queen's Theatre in London - watching Les Miserables
2. West 46th Street, NY - Beauty & the Beast on Broadway
3. In Auckland where Andrew is at the moment
4. On top of a hill where I could almost touch the heavens and see a sky full of stars

Four Bloggers I Am Tagging
1. Apple
2. Serene
3. Rhada
4. Boon

Tsup Tsup - Oh Jologs!

2006-03-23T20:27:00.000+11:00

How well do you kiss? *Please rate from 1-10* I bet most guys would not admit to being inadequate in this aspect for the absolute dread of jeopardising his pizzazz and machismo. But anyway, this is no forum for male versus female lip-locking prowess. While in the doctor's office yesterday, bored to my wits while waiting and observing shuffling medical coats swish-swaying back and forth, I flipped through a magazine and an article caught my fascination. Has anyone heard of such a thing as Kissing School? Well, this "kissing academia" was founded by an American psychotherapist, and resulted from guess what... a not-so-electrifying kissing experience she once had with a former beau. Talk about an interesting business idea; with the right marketing anything can be an enterprise huh? I would have thought that smooching can be grouped with those other items in the list of natural human instincts... yes, something that takes a bit of practice but just like a child learning how to walk, he'd get it right after a few stumbles and falls. And all the rest, additional bits and pieces to further stimulate the senses are found along the way. But I guess not to all hey? To over-eager teenagers, maybe the most critical thing is getting on immediately and plunging right into the action, that pucker-smacker exchange of oral mucousy substance. Wrong! With no intention to offend teenagers by such a stereotype, I must add that it is my belief that there is a shocking number of terrible and inexperienced middle-aged and old-er kissers as well. And you, my friends, are most welcome to share your opinions, experiences, stories, and defence? =)

What is a kiss? A touch of one's lips to another's? A playful combat of oral muscles? An offspring of passion, lust, or romance? A seal for commitment? Maybe an accidental brush of two mouths from two intoxicated, fuzzy heads? Wherever or whatever from that action stemmed from, it is never complete with only the action per se. The creation and carrying on of the desired atmosphere, rhythm and coordination perhaps, the build up of intensity or keep-up of lazy, sweet dreaminess, many little things contributing to the overall fun of the game. And I'm not endorsing Ms Byrd's classes but it is exactly because of many a soul's cluelessness to what other things encompasses smoochy-mooch that her school exists. A short, interesting abstract of the curriculum, if I may call it such: Mouth to mouth rejuvination.

However the combination and mixture of tricks and magic for perfect puckering up, it is still very much a one's own personal experience (personal still even if preferred for the public to see! Mwehehehe!) and no one absolute concoction can be called standard for everyone. Just aim to be above mediocre if there's no way to be super-duper good ok. And here's a toast of well wishes to the knee-wobbling, head-swirling, dazzling smoochies.

An innocent 2-year old's wet, slobbery one still is the best! Ayayayyyy!

Weekend Update

2006-03-13T21:02:00.000+11:00

Today is Victorian public holiday, Labour Day. Don't you just love long weekends? A short update... I just came back from a fun-filled, sun-filled weekend escapade with a group of friends. Getting away from Melbourne whenever there is an extra day to the weekend is one of the favourite activities of many Victorians. There are so many nice places to go to, from a short 1-2 hour drive to a long 5-6 hour trip. I am slowly getting into that habit of maximising my free days and exploring Victoria a bit more.

The past three days we stayed at a rented house in Marengo, a drive by the Great Ocean Road, and spent most of the time at Apollo Bay. No set activity plan, no set agenda, just a relaxing weekend free of any routine or schedule (except for the boys' network game session... yes, 5 laptops were brought to the trip and intense StarCraft games were played late into the night), can't be helped. Imagine a full two days just lounging by the beach, walking back and forth the beautiful crescent-shaped beach, discovering small crabs and mussells growing on sea rocks, and mucking around with good friends. It is also a place quite famous for nice waves, perhaps not at par with Surfer's Paradise up in the Goldcoast, but still good enough for a bit of body board surfing which we did! Riding the waves just feels amazing, having it crash at you feels like a big, fat, gigantic hand slapping onto your body. I will probably be an embarrassment if I have to go surfing, I already know because I can't skateboard and I am terrible at snowboarding; I think that sort of balance just doesn't agree with me... but body boarding is different, there's no leg coordination needed, just good enough arms and legs to paddle and kick. Aaaahhh can I just say again I loooove the beach.

Now I have a pretty bad case of sunburn... Saturday was a clear day with amazingly blue sky... no clouds, it didn't seem too sunny but lo and behold, that night we were all as red as cooked lobsters. Of course that didn't stop us to go back to the sand and water the second day, only that we've to endure the stinging sensation of the salt water and the slightly painful tingle of sand rubbing onto the red soreness of our skin. Sunscreen is really no fool-proof solution, and no sunscreen is asking for big trouble.

Totally satisfied yet very exhausted... I now need a holiday from my holiday. =)

First Offence

2006-03-05T12:03:00.000+11:00

Attention to fare evaders, boarding without a ticket is risking a fine of no less than $154. Metlink, Melbourne's tram and train network, is getting more vigilant in tackling the number one cause of revenue leakage - fare evasion. Revenue losses to fare evasion alone is estimated to be around $50-$60 million. Now, ticket inspection have been more regular, and you'd think that this would have thwarted many offenders... but no. Still a lot of people take this risk because although regular, it is really not at all times that these ticket inspectors roam around checking for your ticket. There will be times when in a week, I've only had my ticket checked once. And a couple of times I've seen passengers scurrying to buy a ticket or try to get off the stop when those feared men in light green shirts, notepad and pens in hand, approach the tram. I've been witness to people being caught and pathetically making excuses as to why they don't have a ticket, some plead, some have an outburst of temper. These do not help, they will still be slapped with a big, fat fine. Trying to save $3.20 and ending up paying fifty times more. It'll be hard to break even after that eh?... unless you get to dodge inspectors again for another 50 trips. Now, that's a plan that has backfired.

Personally, I feel no sympathy for those who are caught. My view is, if you're gutsy enough to try, then you better have the balls (or the moolah) to face the consequence. Until one day... last Wednesday, I was travelling to work, still groggy with a bit of a headache from the past few days' stress and lack of sleep. Per usual, I try to rest my eyes for the whole trip, when after a few stops my quiet snooze was broken by a couple of inspectors asking to check people's tickets. Standard procedure, no biggie, and when it was my turn I reached for the wallet in my bag, and to my horror realised that I did not have it with me! Not even the small coin purse I keep with me that sometimes has an extra metcard ticket in it. Fished through, fished through, again and again, while the inspector was waiting. I suppose there was nothing I could do, I couldn't produce something that is not there. I wanted to melt and disappear from where I was seated. Just like in the movies, the camera zoomed to me frantically searching for my ticket, as the background and voices of other people faded into my own melodrama. Flashes of images came to my mind, I was trying to recall how I could have left my wallet at home. In a haste that morning, I just grabbed my bag and left without checking. Explaining to the men that I have a ticket, the only problem is that I left everything at home... it was a monthly ticket which I paid a friggin' $98.90 for, and I have a couple of weekly ones, daily ones, 2-hour ones, you name 'em I've got 'em. How can I be a fare evader? It was a simple act of carelessness that I wasn't carrying them with me at that moment. Nevertheless, to them it was no excuse, I was travelling without a valid ticket... and I didn't even have a single cent in me at that time to purchase another one right there on the tram because hey I left my wallet remember? What a humiliating moment that was, and an extremely infuriating one as well. The inspectors had to get my name and my address where they'd mail the infringement notice to. It was only after the incident that I realised they haven't really asked me for any form of identification (well, if they did I wouldn't be able to produce any as everything was in the wallet), and I gave them the real everything... real name, real address... holy cow!!!!!... silly silly silly! I could have given a fake name, a fake address and they wouldn't have checked. They didn't this time. Now I wonder, if and when I receive the infringement notice, I could easily contest it and say that there was no way it could have been me, and they wouldn't have a proof as there's no ID number or anything on their slip. Someone could have set me up right? We will wait and see.

There goes the Wednesday. Thank God it was 3 days before the weekend. If it had happened on a Monday, I would have thrown a fit! Ha ha ha. The moral of this story: guard your metcards with your life. I don't care for the fine I'd have to pay per se (as A would say, anything that can be solved by money is a trivial matter not worth cracking your skull for), but it is the fact that I do pay for my fares and yet got caught unaware, written a fine, and at one moment labeled as a fare evader, that annoys me. Well... my bad.

Quiet Please! I Wanna Sleep!

2006-02-26T22:22:00.000+11:00

The old lady two houses away is probably not the most pleasant person in the planet, but I think I do appreciate that she doesn't think twice about chewing the ears off those loud and inconsiderate students who choose to while away their time chattery chatting under other people's bedroom window at 3 in the morning. It absolutely drives me nuts!!! Well, last night the little lady was either in a drunken stupor which temporarily disabled her hearing or she is on holidays, because I am so sure that she wouldn't have let this go without a bit of a drama. She puts her foot down in occasions such as this.

Where I live is pretty quiet, away from the main street yet still literally a hop away from cafe's, bookshops, the university, and other conveniences. Around the area live mostly families, and perhaps just a couple of houses with students or young professionals. Overall an ideal location, a safe area. Ideal can be due to different factors, such as its proximity to places, especially the university (now that I'm no longer a student, it's still not too bad as we're literally at the city fringe). The downside could be the same thing... being close to university!... where one would find the biggest population of drunkenness and endless parties. I must admit that it's not that often that we're disturbed by such things, but when it does happen I can get pretty cranky especially when it has to be an early day the next morning!

Going back to the night prior, holy guacamole a bunch of people whom I would assume just got back from a party (or kicked out of a club i wouldn't be surprised... coz yes it's bloody closing time!!!) decided that they'd loiter around our normally quiet little alley, plant themselves under my window, talk silly, laugh and holler as if they were demented fools in an oh-my-goodness-as-if-the-whole-neighbourhood's-deaf volume level. Yes, I should have done something right?... but I didn't! Ugh. It's not being a coward but more on being careful. I don't fancy the idea of going down in dressing robes and facing up to a couple of strangers whom I was not certain whether or not are drunk enough to smash a bottle at me. I've thought of thowing tomatoes and eggs at them out from my window, but I am out of tomatoes and if I miss then what a waste of eggs!

I have no idea when they decided to transfer to another venue, or if any other neighbour actually came out with a baseball bat or with that ferocious doberman from the adjacent house. Whatever. Such an annoyance really to be kept tossing and turning in bed when the body and mind are so ready to have a rest, even more so annoying to know that some thoughtless people whom you don't even know are the cause of your sleeplessness. When I party, I make sure I get home with a clear head on my shoulder, and I tiptoe too even at my own house when I know that someone's sleeping. Music's definitely off or turned on very low key after midnight.

I wanna say to some, for heaven's sake, don't squat at other people's porch or under someone else's window unless you're seranading them with cheesy latino songs! Also, not everyone would enjoy another's festivities, if you're planning to disturb the whole neighbourhood from your loud, metallic, head-banging parties at 2 in the morning, don't be pissed off when police cars come disbanding the party. Geez, do I sound like one of those uptight, middle-aged ladies with hair curlers, coming out and screaming at high school kids running around the neighbourhood? I hope not. Hey, some courtesy doesn't hurt. And I hope the little, old lady next door comes back.

RU486

2006-02-19T17:12:00.000+11:00

Much has been said about the controversial mifepristone, better known as RU486. The extensive debate and discussion on whether this drug should be allowed in Australia, heard from across parliament, elected representatives, religious groups, non-government organisations, concerned (or just curious) individuals, has left but more trails of unresolved issues and questions. As a hot topic running for weeks now, it has opened a pandora's box of other concerns, many political, such as who should have the final say and the power to approve or reject the entry of this abortion drug into the country. As of the most recent event, the bill to remove the veto power of the health minister on decisions concerning RU486 has been passed, thereby giving control regarding the matter to the Therapeutic Goods Administration. Surely, many people would be posing the same the question of whether this is the wisest move or not, as the TGA has a past history of its own. Then again, that's another story.

Drilling down to the real reasons for the many arguments and differing contentions regarding the said drug, the bulk of the talk would either be on health and safety implications for women, or moral and personal beliefs regarding abortion. On health issues, I suppose any form of abortion would have its risks and danger, be they surgical or medical. Surgical abortion is legally practised in Australia, and therefore many pro-choice groups contend the so called absurdity and hypocricy of banning medical abortion methods such that RU486 would be able to do. On the same note, the argument that medically tested drug or procedure is by far safer for women wanting to terminate pregnancy than for them to undergo dodgy ways in the absence of something suitable and easily accessible, does have logic. They say that in other countries where the drug is already available, abortion rate didn't increase in general, but there was in the proportion of terminated pregnancy in its early stages. One concern is on how readily this drug can be made available to women, objectively speaking there should still be some regulation on its availability, proper education on health implications, etc. But there are so many other questions... and uncertainties... like how would this affect the sense of responsibility in people when something that would reverse any results of their actions is made readily available? When we venture into individual principles and stance on the matter, yes, RU486 will be an issue to many. Then again, there will always be two sides of a coin... varying arguments, clashing beliefs and opinions, there will be no end to the debate.

Australia will let the bill for RU486 pass. It has already been expressed that anyone's moral or religious compunction shouldn't be a basis for making regulations; that health issues and benefits be given priority in the decision over the matter on conscience. I am not saying I am for the passing of the bill, for I still have strong beliefs of my own, which I will keep for myself and not impose on anyone nor use as a basis to judge anyone with a differing view. My opinion would probably not matter in this case, nor would many others', because obviously there are better and more well-informed people making the decisions. It is just my hope that whatever is decided on, those people in power who OK'ed a bill follow through and maintain a certain standard around the matter.

From a Child's Eyes

2006-02-05T23:42:00.000+11:00

"How old do you think I am?" I asked a 5-year old girl after she announced that she's just a kid and that we are undoubtedly older than she is... just because we're bigger. Without much hesitation she replied "Ten years old!" Ahhhh.... so ten years old to her is unbelievably old. And I would bet that her parents are 15 and her grandparents around 30.

As amusing as her response may have sounded, it made me realise how small things and concepts are to a child, much much smaller than we'd dare to imagine. They view the world with purely innocent eyes, feel according to what is real to them. It is no doubt that we live in a complicated society, but a child wouldn't understand what complications exist, or why. When we think about it, the grown ups are the ones who weave for themselves complexities, oftentimes unnecessary and ridiculous.

Don't you find that it's simpler to converse with a child? One gets straight-forward answers, brutal truths sometimes, but over all an honest response. Sugary words, flowery phrases without substance, self praise, scornful comments, malicious and snide remarks... all from adults, but never from children. At least not from young children. To them, there is no such thing as pretension or mind-games. They look and act angry when they are angry, they show their temper when they feel like it, they don't hold back with their hugs and kisses, and when they love you, they just love you. These are probably why happiness to them is so easy, nothing extraordinary. They want not for much. Remember, small things, simple concepts, a small world... therefore easily content.

Don't you ever sometimes wish you were still a 5-year old? I admit that when I'm in deep reverie of years long past, I do too... just sometimes.

Who Loves Gadgets?

2006-01-26T18:44:00.000+11:00

I wouldn't call myself a full-fledged gadget fan. I do like and enjoy funky electronics, but to be in love with them I wouldn't want to be. To me, what works is just fine, what still does the job well and according to my needs doesn't need to be replaced, and those popular gizmos so commercialised and which I know would only entertain me for a short while is off my to-buy list. That's probably why I never really drooled on Apple Mcintosh iPods, although I must admit that they do look pretty sexy. And long before they came to dominate the market, there were the discmans, mp3 players, etc. which I haven't put any interest on. Never had a PDA; was kind of passed on a brand new Sony Clie before but never really used it, it's still in the box and I think I'm ready to pass it on to my dear sister as replacement for her already expired one.

If I am to put the list of my electronic toys side by side the list of my fashion essentials, the former would probably shy away in embarrassment... or perhaps I'll just realise that my priorities are somehow twisted? Nah! In fact, I have only bought for myself one major contraption... my Fujitsu C2210; she's exactly what I needed when I needed her. Already more than 3 years old now but still svelte.. A wouldn't agree; he reckons that she's a bit overweight and that the thinner models are the products of choice nowadays. And I say, what's wrong with her if she has a bit of meat on her!... hwehwehwe!... after all I no longer have to carry her around now that I'm no longer a student. Bigger screen, and not too thin that I'll be afraid to take her on with one hand lest she snaps into two. A also thinks that it is time to replace her but I still wouldn't as she still does the job, albeit sometimes a bit slower, understandbly for something that has been working quite hard for the past 3 years. But I won't dispose off this old thing for a younger, slimmer one... not while she's still alive and kicking. Look at her, isn't she just fine and dandy?And because I have a techie beau, I probably wouldn't be so behind in terms of telecommunications and technology, not that I don't have personal interest but it does help that someone feeds information into you rather than you having to scavenge for it, correct? And so to accessorize, or should I say to add on an extra use, to my Andromeda (my laptop's given name), for my birthday 2 years ago he gifted me with an uber-stylish webcam fit to be put aside my silver friend. The QuickCam Orbit has a built-in microphone, has face-tracking capabilities, can have a dual-height position, and looks like a monitoring eyeball from an advanced planet from outer space. I laughed when I opened the boxed Orbit, so typical of A to give a useful gadget such as this. And of course, the gift package includes free installation, adjustment, testing, and all trouble-shooting services if need be, from A naturally. See, he fully understands that once he gets me these things, he automatically becomes the 24x7 tech-support for the products. Not bad To cap of the three major items I'd consider in my electronics list comes the newest addition to the family, a Sony N1 digital camera. It hasn't been out in the market for long and at first I was wary about it as there are so many choices out there and who knows which one really is the best? Who has tried and tested it? But I had to trust A's taste, after all it was his Christmas present for me... and once I started using it, all apprehension melted away. I wouldn't be getting it if my old one which is a Fuji Finepix 401 didn't die on me, ahhh also 3-4 years in service, one day sand got into it while we were at the beach and it was a goner. I still have a soft spot for it and wish that it could be fixed. Anyway, I love this new one; it has a 3-inch LCD screen which makes it so much easier for point and shoot photography. One thing I prefer as well, is one with a more or less regular thickness, not too thick but not so slim that it becomes difficult to hold and steady. This one is sized just to fit the hand perfectly. There's a touch-screen feature, playful slide and album shows feature, paint, etc. I've already started getting it into work... hard!... and for sure, it'll be travelling with me and taking in beautiful spots and sceneries (as well as people, ahem ahem!)From A I have also received a USB key, external wireless LAN card to help out my pretty weak internal wireless-ready card, amongst others. If there is a pattern in the presents that I receive, it'll be easy to predict that the next one coming might be a... uhmmm... satellite dish? I can only be thankful that A has introduced me to a wider set of product choices in electronics, because sometimes I have a tendency to stick with a pre-conceived criteria that I miss out on the other good things that may be offered with brands or models that I have already initially dismissed.

Signing off!

Reviving Soul's Whispers

2006-01-20T22:45:00.000+11:00

And what do you know!... it's been at least a month and a half since this little baby has been left empty... and clueless? Obviously I have failed to fulfil an earlier promise to keep this up to date. I guess I enjoyed my holiday too much that although going online can be counted as one of the must-do's in my everyday life, I was able to forget about it for the longest time!... nope, no temptation to blog away at all. I suppose this can be one proof that I am still no blog addict, not that much attachment yet. See, that's the thing... I find myself mentally refusing to get tied down to a routine if it meant that I will be bothered or hindered in doing other things, or if it would mean that I'll get nagged by a feeling of obligation. When it becomes that way, I will find it a nuisance which of course, I alone would have created for myself. Therefore, it is good this way, I could put aside blogging for however long I would need to, and still easily come back to it with no feeling of guilt. Nope, there shouldn't be any guilt. In the same token, seldom do I think of what I should write. Instead, I write when I feel like writing; I write when something sticks out extraordinarily in my head... or even when I want to just type away things which only make sense to me. Spontaneity is not a bad thing.

So! Picking up from the previous posting... I probably would find it hard the remaining parts of my holiday. It'll only launch me into post-holiday blues... a.k.a. holiday hangover mode. But in a nutshell... after Manila, it's a few days in Taiwan, then a few days in Hong Kong. As usual, food is of abundance... and those who have been to Taiwan would be able to relate with me... ohmygoodness you will never run out of things to try. One note: be adventurous and try everything. Skeptical of stinky tofu before, I had a change of heart after gobbling down an outrageous number of them. Absolutely loved "fan tuan" - sticky rice wrapped around stuffing/filling of shredded pork, veggies, etc. Can't get over fresh soy milk from the local breakfast kiosk, can never get tired of dumplings... ahhh Taiwan rocks... oh the home of the first bubble tea. Mwehehehe!

Alright... knocking back self to reality. It's been two weeks and if I still haven't pulled myself out of cloud nine, then please throw some more work on my desk. Oh well... after all those above, the lesser I appreciated the humid, suffocating heat on the 6 o'clock tram on the way home today. Melbourne summer is relatively better than those of other states, but when it goes to the 30's... or 40 degrees (this coming Sunday!!!) my eyeballs start to look funny.

One thing that keeps me going (there are a lot of things which motivate me okay), but one of them which is more in my mind now... is the prospect of another holiday. Yayyy believe me, one's coming up again soon.

I'll have better, more organised thoughts... hopefully in the coming days. Better get back to watching the Australian Open. =)

Second Day in Manila

2005-12-12T02:14:00.000+11:00

Second day in Manila and already been to two shopping malls, two cafes, a couple of restaurants, and averaging on 6 hours of sleep each night. My holidays "back" home have always been more of jam-packed days with series of appointments and engagements strung up... oh I do enjoy the high and fast life, and exhausting as it may be I just wouldn't feel satisfaction without having caught up with everyone important. And oh we're just starting... Since it is almost always around December when we come home, the holiday becomes an even more elaborate one because of the festive season. Family lunches, dinners, and Christmas functions are all part of the show. Despite of the whole holiday rush, I especially love this time of the year because of how special people really make it to be. One good way of distinguishing the Philippines' unique celebration of Christmas would probably be taking some comments from someone not raised here because they just have a fresher and different perspective. A's words when he first came to visit last year: "wow, this is really different, it's amazing!"

Random bits of these two days... Yesterday was salon day for my mom, as well as A who came again with me. His first time to have his hair cut in the country and I couldn't be prouder that he felt the "workmanship" is impressive. I still am not ready to take him to the local barbershop, so his first induction was in a higher-end Makati salon... we take baby steps; the next time it will be with Mang Rodel just around the block. Ha ha! We had a walk around the new Greenbelt (man, they've changed a lot from before!!!) and had afternoon tea at Bizu - recommended by buddy Char. Today's another day exploring stores and good buys, with reliable merchandise-hunter Char and another good friend Arls. This is like letting loose of some of the self-restraint imposed on "self" in terms of shopping, for now I could at least justify the worthiness of stuff I'm buying relative to price. And these friends of mine have the best retail information as well as sharp eyes and superb taste. Don't you agree that one always needs another who would honestly tell you if your ass looks fat in the shimmery skirt you're trying on, or if you'd better leave a dress on the rack lest you risk looking like a piece of sausage uncomfortable in its wrapping. Ayayayyyy I realised that I've missed my friends so much.

Okay, we've done this last year but almost did it again this year... roam around Malate pointing our real women vs. not-real women to A. He couldn't tell the difference... honestly!?!!! Thanks to Char's uber-cool uber-hip parents who treated us to dinner at Aristocrat where the chicken bbq is most famous (restaurant trivia: they serve an average of 30,000 of the bbq chicken in a month!). That area near the bay has changed quite a bit as well... some of us say that there's not much improvement in the country, but in some ways or another there are bits and pieces of good changes. There are more lights now, the area's livelier with food stalls/kiosks around. It's visibly cleaner but true, needs a bit more push for better. I was cautious walking around with my bag and all, but I didn't feel unsafe.

Just totally enjoying this. For the meantime, there'll be random updates here but perhap not as structured. I'm in holiday high.

Friday Madness

2005-12-03T13:26:00.000+11:00

Still high and slightly intoxicated from last night's end of year celebration, I will attempt to piece together, recall, and coherently weave a picture of what I'll call a fantabulous event of merriment. The venue and theme were never revealed to us, everything was kept hush hush while everyone's curiosity peaked. Six buses shuttled 300 or so people to the "mystery location" after work yesterday. And true enough, it looked mysterious as it could ever be... at least from the outside it can easily be thought of as some sort of gangster hide-out. We were greeted by costumed hosts (imagine masquerade style), the hallway was glittering with lights and draped with dark red velvet (imagine Chicago and cabaret). Champagne was served at the door, while hors d'ouevres of fresh oysters and cucumber-wrapped smoke salmon go around. While everyone is getting all settled and relaxed in the party, mingling with everyone else, projected screens were showing clips of interviews with the company's big bosses and board members... but more on "bloopers" and funny slides of these interviews. The MD was around, joking and showing his outdated dance moves - for a moment there I was speechless to see this man acting silly. Anyway, to formally kick-start the event there was the announcement of company stock incentives being rewarded to each one (hep hep... let me consult my accountant for the tax implications of this... calling on dear sis!) Further bringing up the jolly mood was drawing of prizes - and they weren't small prizes either (e.g. $500 voucher for Tiffany & Co., $1500 plane ticket, and a lot more). I didn't win anything... dang!... who wouldn't mind splurging in that store in Collins Street. But there's always next year.

Just when I thought that it couldn't get any better, they surprised us more with an "inner" chamber to the venue. Where we were was just a teaser... we were led to a theatre-like room where the real party begins. Hosted by performers (yes, cabaret style but on the more decent end of the spectrum... haha!) and very talented and hilarious broadway singers (whom the ladies initially thought would perform a full monty... not!), we were all on a roll. A night of music and booze, man... one discovers and witnesses the hidden personalities of the normally-serious-suit-and-tie-wearing colleagues. Give them more to drink and they'll be up the stage singing along and head-banging with the band. I probably consumed an illegal amount of champagne myself and quite proud that I've pushed that personal limit many many notches up! Had an insane time on the dance floor, was complimented as "looking ravishing" by one of the bigwigs, met many people from different divisions... not too bad a night and not too bad for a first christmas party with the company eh?

While seemingly untiring in energy, I quickly conked out as my head touched my pillow. It's been quite some time already since I partied like this. When all that adrenalin rush finally subsided, and the alcohol executed its best act... I was knocked into a heavy sleep, and then with a slight reminder of the night before the next morning.

Some random thoughts: (1) there is an art of keeping a tube-top dress from slipping down when one is jumping about and dancing, be vigilant lest you end up flashing some unfortunate soul; (2) one way to thwart an eager and unwelcome person is to pretend that you're going to the loo to puke, that will surely turn him off; (3) move around, talk to other people, don't just stick with your old familiar group, but don't totally ditch them too; (4) don't chew your oysters, let it slip down your throat; (5) you can never be over-dressed in parties like this.

At The Risk Of Sounding Like An Old Fart...

2005-11-30T22:04:00.000+11:00

As cliche as it may sound, time really just whooshes by. Swift and without hesitation, whether we be mindlessly strutting around with no care of the world or frantically guzzling in everything we could in the hopes that we'll beat it in its swiftness. But no, there's no contest when it comes to that one. It is scary to think that it waits for no one, pauses for nothing. It never was an issue before... at least not for me. It only became one of concern when events and life experiences gave me the realisation that our existence really can be compared to a stage play. A stage play which can either be a bore or a ball, one that leaves no impression at all or a lasting mark. Regardless of which, however colourful and abundant, dull or empty, the curtains will have to be let down. In time. When these thoughts hit, they do stir up some nerves and panic. Where has time gone? What have we done in the many years that we've lived? And how much time do we have left?

Sometimes I ask myself those questions. Although people will always nonchalantly say "no regrets," I still think that this can not be entirely true for everybody. In all honesty, which one of us can really proclaim that there is no one thing we didn't wish we haven't done or vice versa? Personally, I do like where I stand now and there are a lot of things which I am proud of having accomplished and experienced, but hell I'd be lying if I don't say that similarly there are also stuff which when I think about would make me shake my head and want to kick myself. We all have been fools at one point or another. The good thing about knowing is that there is a possibility for action... and perhaps make better use of our time each day in a way that would eventually make us feel more fulfilment and accomplishment.

I'm on a random stream of writing mode at the moment. The trigger?... oh perhaps just my usual profound and reflective self... not! I do contemplate and have a think of such matters once in a while, on how to better maximise my time and reach a goal using up the shortest possible length of time. But on to a very normal, everyday illustration of how these thoughts came about is my every day stint at work. There are endless milestones to do and one goes in refreshed and ready for battle each morning, only to find that at the end of the day there's still so much more. After gazillions of meetings, tons of discussions, and whathaveyou's, each day is like chasing up that run-away hour. Better than being idle, wouldn't you say? Sometimes I do wish I could successfully fit into the schedule some essential professional development though. In time, it will happen, but I wish the sooner the better. Sometimes I wish that the weekends would go by in slow motion, but the contrary always happens.

I suppose it is the want for a richer, more quality-filled existence that makes one want to hold on tighter. I have also now understood that the reason why a child doesn't realise the significance of time nor worry about how short life is... is because a child has seen only a small portion of what adults have seen and experienced. At the risk of sound like at old fart... when one has spent a third of his life already, then the other two-thirds would seem not too far away.

Pain Is Your Friend & Tagged!

2005-11-27T13:25:00.000+11:00

My whole body is aching badly, but with a pain that I welcome. And no I'm not some sort of a masochist who inflict his own bodily injuries. You see, I have quite an embarrassingly low threshold for pain which are the stabbing, jabbing sort, the cramping, gnawing feeling of ulcers or dysmenorrhoea, etc. What I don't particularly mind is the soreness of muscles from an extreme sport or exercise. I guess the feeling gives one a confirmation of hard work and thus a sense of fulfilment and achievement. Anyway, that is what I am having now.

This weekend I went back to the gym, after a week of being preoccupied with other things that my routine work out has to be temporarily disrupted and halted. Normally getting back to that routine should be a piece of cake, no dramas. But that day, call it smugness, a sudden bizaare invasion of sanity, or pure foolishness for the sake of nothing at all, I put myself into a contest with a guy in the gym who was doing the same exercise as I was. He is one whom you'd describe as a "grunter," for every lift he makes there will be a corresponding "aarrrrrgggghhh" matched with a feigned pained expression that is so tempting to put a fist on. Okay okay... heavy-weight lifters do that, I will accept that they need to summon out the strength and thus the sound and twisted facial muscles are valid, natural reactions to the release of their chakra (bwahahaha! yes too much ninja watch). However... man... I tell you this guy is far from a heavy-weight nor would I call him a try-hard wannabe. All he does is grunt for all the world to hear while keeping a check on whether he is getting any attention from the girls or not. I know because he kept on glancing around. And oh sure he got my attention alright, how can't I when he is right beside me and hilariously lifting the same weight as I was! I'm not trying to be a pain in the ass nor a smart-aleck, but phuullleeeze don't make me laugh by putting that big a show for some puny weights when you're bigger than me. So to make a point, for succeeding tracks I decided to put on weights that are a tad bit more than his; and true enough he fumbled a bit when I did. Tsk tsk tsk. A said that it's mean and that I shouldn't be naughty like that. Ok, guilty as charged... but I couldn't help making fun of the situation. I reasoned out that I need to increase my threshold anyway, and seeing the guy's reaction is just, well... secondary *or the other way around.*

My punishment for being bad: weekend soreness. Hayyyayyyayyy. I'm ready to be reprimanded by those who reckon that I've caused emotional trauma to the poor dude. Geez, such exagg! Tee-hee-hee!

*******************************************************************
Now, this is long overdue... and I'm glad I am finally able to complete it. From a tag by one of my favourite people, Char:

Three names you go by:
1. Jovs
2. Jovy
3. Joffeeffee

Three screen names you have had:
1. tulipipay
2. andromeda
3. big bad wolf

Three physical things you like about yourself:
1. shoulders
2. back
3. abs

Three physical things you don't like about yourself:
1. imperfect thighs
2. big feet
3. buffy hair when not managed well

Three things that scare you:
1. suspicious looking men in suspicious-looking cars
2. cockroaches
3. to trip and fall flat on my face - and yep that has happened... resulting in a fractured... not nose, but rib.

Three of your everyday essentials:
1. 3-step skin care regimen
2. coffee/tea
3. a hug

Three of your favorite musical artists:
1. Norah Jones
2. ABBA
3. The Corrs

Three of your favorite songs:
1. Come Away With Me
2. Don't Need The Sun To Shine (Gabrielle)
3. Anyone At All (Carole King)

Three things you want in a relationship:
1. commitment
2. honesty and faithfulness
3. laughter

Three truths in no particular order:
1. What goes around comes around
2. You are not invincible
3. Death and taxes

Three lies in no particular order:
1. "Our products are non-comedogenic and you won't react to them" as EVERY cosmetics specialist claims
2. Size XS in many clothing labels
3. Instant coffee that's as good as brewed coffee

Three physical things of the opposite sex that appeals you:
1. broad shoulders
2. lips
3. height

Three of your favorite hobbies:
1. reading
2. baking and cooking (ohmigoodness, how domesticated!)
3. shopping (be it grocery-shopping or the other type of shopping...)

Three things you want to do really badly now:
1. go kick boxing
2. move the christmas holidays earlier and make it last three times longer
3. hire a mid-size plane, make a round to pick up all my friends from around the globe, and hie off somewhere for a week-long party.

Three careers you're considering/you've considered:
1. Medicine
2. Media & Broadcasting
3. Marketing

Three places you want to go on vacation:
1. France
2. Brazil
3. Turkey

Three kids' names you like:
1. Arianne
2. Gabriel
3. Enzo

Three things you want to do before you die, from the top of my head...
1. To have my own horse... and maybe some sheep... =)
2. To design and build our own dream house
3. To have travelled most parts of the world

Three ways that you're stereotypically a boy:
1. Can change a flat tire without any qualms
2. Gets a Pass in Home Economics sewing, gets an Excellent in Circuits.
3. Can be a real sloth and watch animation the whole day

Three ways that you're stereotypically a girl:
1. Likes shoes & can run with stilettos
2. Not afraid of eyelash curlers and hair dryers
3. Epilators and wax are good friends

Three celeb crushes:
1. Richard Gere
2. Brendan Fraser in his younger years
3. Jacky Cheung (hahahahaha, childhoold crush!)

Three people I'm tagging:
1. Arls
2. Bugsy
3. Gigi

Weekend Afternoon Delight

2005-11-13T14:49:00.000+11:00

When my siblings and I were younger, we did not ask for toys as much as kids would normally do. My older brother would be happy and content with his little plastic toy soldiers which he would play with by himself, strategically positioning them on the bed setting up a "battle field," with blankets and pillows as his make-shift terrain and mountains. At that time I thought he was extremely silly mimicking sounds of explosion and gun fire, creating his very own war zone simulation. Apart from that sort of play, I hardly remember anything else. And oh, we'd also collect the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles from fastfood value meals. As for myself, I've had one Barbie, my clearest recollection of which is its head being accidentally pulled off by my brother (now that I think of it, was it really accidental?). I must also admit that I had quite a number of stuffed toys - but mostly gifts from grandparents, aunts, and other relatives.

There were not many memories of playing with toys or buying toys or wanting any particular toy. And when I reminisce about fond memories of my childhood, image of playtime does not surface. I never consider this as any form of deprivation or missing out, for we had an absolutely enjoyable and fun-filled childhood. My parents made sure that things that we acquire or activities that we dwell in would eventually contribute to our learning and development. Anyway, what I have a lot of clear memories of are evening scrabble and boggle sessions with my mom and my older brother. I was so addicted to these two games; my mom has set these sessions to be interesting and playful instead of presenting them as a mode of study. Another reason that I can think of, now in hindsight, is perhaps because I was competitive with my brother and word games are one of the few things that I mostly always come out as a winner of. Our bookshelves and cupboards were abundant with board games that we love, including cluedo, monopoly, hangman, guess who, pictionary, among others.

That probably explains why up to now I am still a big fan of board games. Some of them can be enjoyed by even just two people, while others are better played when there is a bigger group. My collection have grown since, added onto the list, although non-exhaustive, are guesstures (a game of charades), cranium (combo of charades, art & drawing, fact trivia, and vocabulary & words), risk (a war game heavily based on strategy, attacks and counterattacks), betrayal at house on the hill (adventure game). These days, scrabble is still around the top of my roster of favourite board games. In fact, I'd call it one of my weekend afternoon delights. On lazy weekend afternoons, over steaming latte or capuccino, A and I would challenge each other to a game. The beauty of scrabble is that it's a game that tests not only the players' vocabulary, the knowledge of the existing 2-letter words (yes, this is quite important when having to connect to other letters), but also the level of one's game plan, the ability to formulate a strategy. We'd like to see it as a friendly game, and yes it always is... but no mercy. Ha ha! I must say that it is all the more interesting when playing with people who are genuinely interested and who do their best to come up with a good word, who actually strategise and plan out on how to kick the opponent's arse. Only in this scenario can a player feel the challenge, thus contributing to a good game. I find too that during these games, long-buried words that I haven't used or encountered for eons of years suddenly resurface... and there's a feeling of gladness and delight! Bizaare, isn't it?

In one of our games, I took the liberty of taking a shot of the game's conclusion. And yes, everything you see there are real words, they exist and have meaning, not some random word that we imagined and made up.... hmmmm.... sometimes A wouldn't believe me though, sames goes here... a bunch of sceptics. *wink*

See, mom really knows best. She's introduced something that will forever be ingrained in us. Time for another play!

Hop On Board

2005-11-02T22:25:00.000+11:00

The year's changes and milestones aren't few. From the completion of my postgraduate degrees, marking another tick on personal goals achieved (and yes, the culmination of a 2.5 year study that is long enough I would say)... to receiving my residency status, largely determining where I will veer the next stage of my life to and a basis of many major decisions that I have made and yet to make... and now the start of a new career, which in most cases has always an initial mix of excitement and anxiety.

I'd like to think that the choices I have made over the past few years are good ones, and ones that would ultimately lead me to a better position - in my career, relationships, and life in general. The paths that I have chosen to take were not always the easiest ones, but I guess the humps and bumps are part of the adventure in the journey. Sometimes one rejoices, sometimes one laments, but in all times one has to face questions in need of answering. I remember one of the major troughs I've put myself in a couple of months ago was dwelling in agony and indecision over staying here or going back. To others, it seems that it would be a complete waste if I let the opportunity pass... but to me I have gained what I came here to gain already and that's a wealth of experiences, friendships, realisation, broadening of horizons... and if I decided to leave all these behind there would be no loss at all. Where I would be going next (or back), surely would be packed with as much colour. Anyway, I stayed - for more reasons than I care to reveal... ha ha! So far, there are no regrets, only a fervent hope of continuous blessings and happiness, courage to face all that needs facing, and the ability and grace to conquer mountains.

Today I've hopped on board a new group. Things are looking very promising. I would say that fate has been quite good to me. It's up to me now to drive myself to a better and better plane. For the moment, a steady flow would be great although further changes and new milestones are not unwelcome either.

Que Horror!

2005-10-27T17:00:00.000+10:00

Something drew me into the basement store along Bourke Street. I went in and made a beeline for the DVD section further down the back. In less than five minutes, I have taken my pick of two DVDs, paid for them, and was out of there. To be added to our growing collection are The Shining and Poltergeist, both mind and bone chilling horror films which I have heard many good reviews of. The next thing to do now is gather up some friends for a night of horror and popcorns, how apt since Halloween is coming up. See, I love watching these kinds of movies, but I can never watch them by myself... I need several other people to share the panic and fright with me, as if the fear can be equally distributed amongst us.

Last weekend, I invited some friends over for dinner. Somehow in the course of the conversation, we drifted to the topic of the supernatural, magic, and the unknown. Now, I have quite a diverse group of friends here... Aussies, Malaysians, Indonesians, HKies... and each one has interesting tales to tell about the beliefs of people in his home country. I find a lot of similarities between the Malaysian and Indonesian "ghosts" and witchcraft to the ones we grew up knowing of (or hearing of) in the Philippines. My friend B believes in charms that are purposedly put on people to either make them do the charmer's bidding or to harm the one charmed; apparently this practice is done by a lot of Thais as well. I relate this to the Philippine version of "kulam," something I probably will never completely fathom but something I think of as vile and evil. How these charms are done, B did not elaborate, perhaps he is unsure as well, but I reckon it could be in many ways and only those who are in touch with witchcraft would know. He also narrated stories of a relative who has a third eye and could see things around him all the time. According to B, if one wants to go the forest or somewhere closer to nature for a specific purpose, then he should go there to do that activity only and nothing else. Say, if one says he would go fishing, then he should stick to that and not go hunting instead... else he might evoke anger from the unseen residents of the area. And before one proceeds, he has to ask a quick permission. One of his stories is about someone who peed by a tree, and in so doing he disturbed the being which lives in the tree... this man's skin turned rough and scaly like, and was apparently possessed by the spirit of the tree. It was only through offerings that his family was able to bring him back to his normal state. Isn't this quite similar to the Filipinos' stories of "nuno sa punso" and the like? Malaysians also believe that each house has a spirit that lives in it and which protects the house and its residents; therefore they take that a house that has been empty for too long is not good because that spirit will tend to invite other spirits into the place. A general notion of a haunted house?

Needless to say, that night after my friends all went home... I couldn't sleep... what with all those thoughts swimming in my mind.

Being the scaredy-cat that I am, you would have assumed that I avoid topics such as these or anything that will lure my mind to eerie thoughts. But no... because I've always had this fascination... alright, more of curiosity, on the unknown, the supernatural, ghosts, wandering spirits, beings of another world. As a child, my imagination would run amuck with thoughts of spirits that may be living in trees outside my bedroom window, or vampires that may be disguised as cats or big birds. I also never liked having big mirrors in my bedroom for fear of seeing "something" in it in the middle of the night. I would fall asleep scared, but wake up safe and still whole. Does that make me an unbalanced child? I scare myself, and yet I seek for more. One time when I was about 10 years old, I stayed at my cousin's place for the night. I had the weirdest, creepiest dream... I was running and running, almost out of breath, and they were closing in behind me, I had to run faster, quicker, but my feet couldn't take me any more further. They, the little people with very saggy faces and bodies that resembled melting candles were after me. Their grins were beastly, I felt that I was a prey. And finally one of them was about to grab me by the leg, its fingers slightly brushed my ankle, and I screamed. I woke up with a start, and when I narrated it to my aunt and grandma (they live in the same house), they were very disturbed and I heard my aunt mumble something about appeasing "them" with some offering of food, etc. After that dream, I found out that they believe that little people, or "dwendes" in Filipino, reside in their house. Someone must have seen them, or felt them, I don't know. Although I can not be certain if that has anything at all to do with the dream that I had, up to this day I could still vividly picture out that dream, and it doesn't fail to give me the chills. My dreams are from my subconscious, how can this be penetrated? I know of someone who had a dream of another person the night before the latter died. Mere coincidence?

Throughout the years, I became less affected, less scared, but not totally unaffected at all. I still believe that we are not the only ones in the universe, for thinking and believing so would be arrogance on our part. Curious as I am, I would no longer venture into trying dangerous stuff like playing Ouija, spirit of the glass/coin, etc... for who knows what kind of passer-by spirit one will accidentally invite.

Any thoughts?

Of Vanity and Wrong Identities

2005-10-19T17:00:00.000+10:00

On to a lighter and funnier note... a couple of weeks ago, I was chatting on MSN with one of my siblings who is 4000++ miles away. Between us siblings, we don't have any qualms at all in taking the mickey out of each other, so long as everything is in the spirit of fun. And so therefore I am posting the MSN window that documented part of the conversation. A bit of facts first before you read on and enlarge the picture: JJ is my older brother; Jovivi is yours truly. I have deliberately blocked off the email address on the message window, for privacy's sake.

I couldn't help it; I just had to capture this image and convert it into a file (who knows it may become useful someday *evil grin*). I'm not sure though if my parents, once they see it, would find it hilarious at all. So... if I show this message box to anyone without further explanation, the conclusions that will arise would either be my brother has become a cross-dresser taking a new liking for stilettos and mini skirts, or that he has shockingly embraced a new "female" identity. :-) But since I don't want to tarnish the good name and reputation of this promising young bloke, the confession has to come out. My crazy sister was the one using my brother's MSN account... as she often does, tricky impostor! Go face the wall and stand in the corner until you're forgiven. :-)

Some Thoughts on Health Care

2005-10-15T18:25:00.000+10:00

The other day I was reading a news in the papers about the Federal government's plan to overhaul and improve the payment process for those claiming for Medicare rebates. The plan was to set up a system wherein the holders of a Medicare card would be able to swipe this card in their doctor's office, the hospital, or any healthcare clinic, and the money owed would automatically be credited to their account. This proposal is aimed at increasing efficiency, and speeding up the process for Australian health care users to access health care funds. Once this is implemented and rolled out, just imagine how much more convenient and faster it will become for you and me to sort out medical bills; no more filling up forms and endless queueing in the Medicare office to lodge a claim.

This got me to thinking how lucky people here are compared to many other places. That bit of news is not even on the introduction of a national health care system, one that will entitle citizens and residents access to free or cheap consultation and treatment. Rather, that bit of news is a step ahead, it is on revamping the already existing system to provide users with better service. To address the basic needs of the people, which is access to health care, has already been put in place. To provide a cleaner, better payment system is obviously a bonus. Or at least that is what I feel; my sentiments may not be echoed by others as many would think that it is absolutely necessary for the government to give all these benefits, to make lives easier for its people.

If only every Filipino has this kind of health service available... to ensure that each one will receive basic treatment and be entitled to basic resources in the event of illness. Let's not even talk about an efficient payment system, but just the very basic availability of health service for all - rich or poor. People will be thankful and wouldn't mind queueing up for hours as long as there is treatment available... well, don't they do that anyway in many charity hospitals like the Philippine General Hospital (PGH)? Sad to say, such is not the case. I'm not even going to start on other more poverty-stricken countries. I would confine this discussion to something I am more familiar with and situations I have seen/direct exposure to.

When I was still an undergraduate student in UP, I was actively involved in a student-run, charitable organisation called Lingkod e.r. The mission is very simple - to provide direct and indirect financial assistance to indigents in Philippine hospitals. Like many groups with similiar cause, we did what we could to raise funds, solicit support, and raise awareness on the plight of the many people in need. I'd say that it was my major induction to the world of charity wards. It opened my eyes wider to the real state of charity hospitals in the Philippines. I wouldn't forget the image of the baby whose small body was wrapped in plastic to keep him warm because there was no incubator for him, nor the image of the man covered in wounds and gauze lying on a hospital stretcher but situated in the hallway because the wards were full, nor the child who has hydrocephalus who was waiting for a kind soul to sponsor his operation. The list goes on and on. There were countless accounts of patients not receiving treatment because they don't have enough to pay for some fees, patients dying from treatable infections just because there were no medicine for them, patients whose illness were aggravated due to the condition of the wards they were in. The place is cramped with so many people waiting to be given medical attention, relatives would be resting or sleeping on the floor beside stretchers; one or two small fans would be at work but failing to lessen the stale smell of the wards due to poor ventilation. In short, the situation is dire, and is not being helped with the government's continuous budget cut on health care. I no longer know how much the budget deficit is for PGH, but I believe that this deficit is so big that the Philippine's biggest charity hospital is at constant dependence on donations and help from charity groups. However, donations do not flow endlessly, the demand far exceeds the supply. For many of us who want to help, through volunteer work and pledging financial support, etc., we know too that there is also only so much one can do. It is difficult having that knowledge that there are so many indigent patients out there who may not have access to any form of assistance at all, but that perhaps is nothing compared to the difficulty that these people have to face, the knowledge that they could be cured... but only if they have enough funds...however not.

So count yourself lucky, if you have the means to buy private health insurance... if not, lucky even if you are under the shelter of a government health care system which actually gives and provides that benefit. Thinking about all these and remembering all that I have seen gives me a heavy heart. Everyday I count my blessings, and hopefully I would be able to share more of these.

Kenzan

2005-10-12T23:42:00.000+10:00

Tucked in a cozy corner of Collins Place in Melbourne, Kenzan is buzzing with folks out for authentic, fresh Japanese dinner. A and I accidentally spied this place a few weeks ago when we went to watch a movie; A being an avid sashimi lover was keen on trying the place out while I, on the other hand, was doubtful as the restaurant looked quite secluded, cold, thus overpriced and over-rated. Anyway, it was already erased from my memory until today when A decided that we should have a special dinner... at none other than Kenzan, a place he hasn't even tried before, and obviously has been lingering in his thoughts for some time.

Apprehensive me agreed, partly for the want to test a restaurant, partly to satisfy A's longing for his raw fish that melts in the mouth with savoury goodness. And oh, today we start our 3rd year of being together... tee-hee-hee! Somehow this time of the year has always been hectic and busy for both of us. Last year A was frantic with preparation for his overseas conference that we had to defer any celebration, and this time around it's another whirlwind of unending deadlines and conference talk to polish. I was prepared to defer celebration for another year. =) And so it was extra surprising that he took the evening off with me to discover a new addition to our roster of recommended good food places. Kenzan did not disappoint, and when I say that better believe that it's worth trying out as we are quite picky and critical with restaurant food. My prior impression was proven wrong and I humbly accept A's smug "I told you so's"... so long as you're happy my dear. It was also only this evening that we realised that the place has been given an award by The Age Good Food Guide, review as follows:

"In a town where sushi can too often be a listless, clumsy imitation of the real thing, Kenzan provides a lesson in how to do it right. Gloriously fresh, brilliantly coloured and presented with artisan skill, Kenzan's way with seafood is truly inspiring."

Here's a quick peek to some of the stuff that we had... an entree of soft shell crab in special dipping sauce, main of sashimi/sushi combination set (huge platter to satisfy huge appetites I tell ya), another main of mouth-watering unagi on Japanese rice (which unfortunately we devoured before it had the chance to pose for the camera).

Gochisou sama deshita!

Go Run Your Own Life, Sucker!

2005-10-06T22:10:00.000+10:00

The last thing I need and want to hear these days is a sequel of so-called advices (*unwanted and definitely not welcome*) about how I should be planning and running my life from people who assume too much and have the illusion that they know me all too well. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one to think that I'm all knowing and so above all creatures in this planet to be unable to take in other people's opinions. I appreciate comments and suggestions; in fact I don't mind being reprimanded or knocked back to my senses, provided that these are well-meaning and out of genuinely good intentions. I do muse over people's advice and weigh their suitability for application in a scenario. After all, we do learn from others and many times we realise something only when pointed out to us. In many occasions we fail to see things in some different angles that our friends would have seen, perhaps because our eyes are too fixated on something else, and sure it does help if they snap a finger and direct us to those information we were blind to. These are all good. However, it becomes different if what is thrown at you are mockeries and ill-willed remarks masked as words of concern and advice, made to satisfy a malicious pleasure to see you falter or become unsure of yourself. It becomes increasingly annoying especially when the person goes on and on, starts to pick on the different aspects of your life and your way of handling matters without giving a thought to the accuracy of his assumptions. It then becomes worse when the course of the discussion, which by the way I never have intended to be in in the first place, suddenly becomes a "compare my cards to your cards" game. Doh, I may be accommodating and I may indulge you with your self-praise at my expense, but I'm not sickeningly gullible and dense to be unable to decipher the pompousness in your tone.

People who truly know me would understand that I let no one steer my life's wheel for me. They too would know that as stubborn as I may get, I do listen and I do consult... but I think too. If I'm in a state of confusion and stress, it does not mean that I become brainless too. Irritation doesn't come along easily; with constant nagging, yes it may but as I've said if they're well-meaning, then everything's cool with me. Unsolicited advice?... bring them on, I don't mind. But once I sense pretentiousness and a nasty intent, in an attempt to either pull someone down or perhaps uplift his/her own sense of self up, then my sparks will fly. Honestly, what is wrong with these people?!! Excuse me, I can run my own life the way I wish to do so. If I stumble or find myself in some not so desirable situation due to my dangerously adventurous nature or impossibly stubborn head, then let me be because I am also very much capable of picking myself up and driving back to the main road, and I don't mind the scratches and the bruises. Besides, maybe it is best to remind you too that you have your own life, why not start minding it for a change?! As for your malevolent soul, purge it please. And next time, save your breath.

In A's opinion, I should think twice about posting this one since it is too fiery, too sharp as if it could slit throats. But you see, there is this side of me who knows how to get peeved as well. Is it such a negative thing? Oh well... just being human. Now, it's time to clear my head. The rant is out. Tomorrow will be great. :-)

Ants Smell Like Marzipan

2005-09-29T15:16:00.000+10:00

"It has that overpowering smell of crushed ants," replied A when I offered to fix him an almond drink, one of my comfort drinks only a notch down after coffee and hot chocolate. I thought he must be out of his mind associating that sweet, flavourful aroma of almond to the odour of those little critters. Apparently, eversince that sensory association was formed in him, A never liked anything almond-y and marzipan-y anymore. Tough.

All I know about ants and ant-related smell are (1) that they release some sort of formic acid, which are intended for defense against predators and enemies, and (2) that they have very strong sensory organs for sniffing and smelling that are meant for identification and detection of other ants from the same colony. What escaped me is the possibility for humans to actually detect this ant acid smell, or at least I would think so as A claimed to have known. Is it just my olfactory sense being far inferior than his? Or perhaps it is his sense of smell which has totally flipped and gone wacko? What was he up to anyway coming across such odour?... bizaare! And let me ask, how many crushed ants does it take for one to actually get a whiff of that ant scent?... should we produce a mortar and pestle for experimentation?... the image of which gives me goosebumps. One or two ants are alright, but the thought hundreds of them scrambling about makes me wanna gag.

Funny thing is I know how ants taste like. It was an accident - for me and of course for the poor thing which died a quick death inside my mouth. The taste was very distinct, kind or rusty, cold, electric-like, and has a sharp bite to it... definitely not a condiment I would recommend unless you're vying for the championship of eating exotic stuff and insects.

For the life of me, keep them out of my kitchen and I'd be happy. Someday my good ol' beau would have to learn to appreciate and love my almond biscottis.

Fragments of Our Being

2005-09-22T14:56:00.000+10:00

What would we be without a recollection of our past? What would become of us if completely stripped off of memories... of the last smile we saw, the last touch or hug we received... the voices of those closest to us? What would become of our existence if any familiar faces we try to recall in our minds won't form at all? Or would we, consumed with nothingness, cease to exist at all? Would losing all those mean losing ourselves?

Last night, we watched a documentary film called Unknown White Male. It is the true story of a man who wakes up and finds himself in a New York subway not knowing who he is, where he is going, what his past is. It's a wipe out of the past 35 years of his life. The rest of the film documented how pieces were connected and how this man tried to retrieve his life back by meeting again his friends and family, but as if for the first time. The irony is that in retrieving his life back he was actually starting a new life so different from the one he lived before, it is as if a whole new person has been reborn. From old videos and snapshots of this man before his memory loss, it was easy to tell that he has a certain air of cockiness, an arrogance and sureness of himself, straight-forward, with sarcastic humour, obviously driven and quite successful, and liked to be in the limelight - he played the centrestage role very well. The new person, interviewed and shown throughout the documenting of the film, reveals one who is sensitive, reflective, private. There's a whole new aura to the man that it really gave me goosebumps. A very insightful thought that hits the nail right on the head was quoted from the philosopher John Locke, that he surely is the same person, but questionably the same man.

Surely, an experience like this will scare the living daylights of any person. I wouldn't want to lost all those that made up me because I wouldn't want to lose me. With no past dreams to think about, past hurts, past love to feel, with no reference of anything at all... makes up nothing but just fragments of an unknown being. This makes one think about how much of our character and personality, our humanness, is really made up by the aggregate of memories, experiences we have that make us unique individuals. Without any of those, how can we say for sure who we are? With those altered and changed, we will never be the same person as we are now. To this guy, it seemed like he was wiped off and left as a blank piece of paper where he should start writing down and building his life, his new life, once again.

*******
Now, on to the wackier part of this post, sort of like a fun "personals" kind of survey... I was tagged by Mildred to answer the following questions.

THREE RANDOM FACTS ABOUT MY CLOSET:
1) Never big enough
2) Fully utilised
3) Smells good

THREE ITEMS I'VE NEVER WORN BUT STILL HAVEN'T TOSSED OUT:
1) A blood red cocktail dress bought last year - I suddenly felt younger for that kind of style
2) A couple of gym tops - somehow I kept on using the few old ones
3) A leopard print G-string that my crazy friends gave me 3 years ago!

THREE THINGS I WILL NEVER GET RID OF NO MATTER HOW UGLY THEY GET:
1) Andrew
2) Photos of family and friends
3) My passports

THREE ITEMS THAT PEOPLE WOULDN'T EXPECT TO FIND IN MY CLOSET:
1) Mothballs
2) Gun
3) Used Kleenex

THREE THINGS THAT MADE ME GO, OH LORD WHAT WAS I THINKING?
1) The second I jumped out of a plane from 12,000 feet
2) After managing to very quickly and sharply cut an 18-wheeler truck... never again!
3) After the 12th shot of cowboy + several glasses of port + some glasses of wine + another drink here and there..... And the next morning "Oh Lord, my head!"

THREE THINGS THAT I HAVE A SURPRISING NUMBER OF:
1) Tissue rolls - I keep on stocking them for some odd reasons!
2) Liquid laundry detergent - same as above!
3) Photographs

THREE DOMINANT COLORS IN MY CLOSET:
1) Black
2) Blue
3) White

THREE PEOPLE I WILL TAG:
1) Andrew
2) Boon
3) Zantha

Getting All Frocked Up

2005-09-20T13:32:00.000+10:00

If there is one big event that many over-worked, highly-stressed postgraduates look forward to, it would be the annual ball jointly organised by the University of Melbourne and Monash University postgraduate associations. Each September on a Friday evening that marks the start of two-week, non-teaching period, your regular bookworms, research geekoids, university bigwigs, normal students and academics, transform into real human beings whom you will find actually adept in socialising and mingling (and dancing even - on or off the beat is another story). It's interesting how one starts to see another in a different light once placed in a different setting (*oooh, person so and so is groovy after all!*). I would admit that I very much enjoy these postgraduate balls so even if my tenure as a postgraduate student has recently ended, it didn't stop me from going to this year's event.

To me, no function could be worse than a disorganised, rowdy, messy one (i.e. college balls? *no offense meant*). I have been to ones where more than half of the crowd ended up badly sloshed resulting to shameful behaviour; where the dance floor was literally covered with broken glass and spilt beer, making it impossible for the non-indulgent, responsible, social drinker to walk (forget dancing!) without slipping or stepping on shards of glass. In the end, one would go away disgruntled and wondering why the hell did he/she pay $69 to watch unruly people being forcefully thrown out of the ball by bouncers? I could get that sort of entertainment by watching footy on television (and it's free!). Oh well!

So, what makes the UMPA postgraduate balls different? Aside from better behaved people and the absence of hazards in the form of either violent bodies or sharp glasses, the UMPA balls are very well-organised, with programs and the music/band well picked. And yet, the highlights, in my opinion, is the choice of venue, the selection of a theme, and that extra move to make the event stand out and unique from all previous balls. These postgraduate balls are themed events where part of the excitement is playing along and fitting into the motif. This year's was "Titanic," as corny as it may sound, the venue very well made up for it. Held at the Melbourne Aquarium, not one guest was not at awe at how beautiful the place is, especially with that huge cylindrical tank filled with tropical fish and corals in the centre of the hall, and the other tanks with a view of sharks, stingrays, and other forms of sea life. While it is not exactly compulsory to be "Jack" or "Rose" or the propeller of the ship to attend the ball, it is quite interesting and fun that many still go out of their way and exercise their creative minds to find the perfect attire or accessory that would fit the theme. This year's male winner of the best dressed wore on his head a styrofoam-made iceberg that is battery operated to puff out smoke.

For three consecutive years now, I have gone to the postgraduate ball. In 2003, my first postgraduate ball, the theme was excitingly Latin and set in a spectacular marquee venue in the Melbourne Zoo! The sound of the Pachuco Playboys band and the images of people salsa-ing still linger in my head. Then it was a change from wild Latin dancing to a medieval setting of a masquerade ball in 2004, with again a venue that is beyond our expectation - the beautiful Regent Theatre, its palatial ambience truly fit with the spirit of the medieval era. Come 2005, as I have narrated shortly, the Titanic theme in a special aquarium venue. We wonder how else could it get better next year? :-)

For snapshots of the events...

September 19, 2003

El Baile del Postgrad
Melbourne Zoo

* The lady with the elaborate hat, parading as Carmen Miranda, won best dressed.
*Her male counterpart has an EVEN MORE elaborate accoutrement on his head... apparently he was ALSO Carmen Miranda *guffaw*.
* Still "just friends" with A at this time...

September 10, 2004

Masquerade Ball
Regent Theatre, Melbourne

* No longer "just friends" with A...
* We made our own masks!... on the afternoon before the ball. It took longer than I expected... we were a tad bit late for the ball.
* My good friend S also made her own, with mask and a pair of sheer fairy wings not so obvious in the picture. She was one of the finalists for best-dressed.

September 16, 2005

Titanic Ball
Melbourne Aquarium

* Before, during, and after the ball.
* Ain't my friend (in the blue dress) very "Cleopatra"-like?

Dreams are Extensions of our Daytime Consciousness

2005-09-16T12:46:00.000+10:00

Last night I had a dream. Or was it a dream or perhaps more likely my thoughts? In any case, I was drifting from consciousness to sleep - that kind of in-between because while slumber beckons and my mind begins to form abstract pictures, I could still hear the distinct footsteps and voices of people going by under my bedroom window.

In the dream I see many faces, all around as if in a gathering. And then it zoomed in to a few, smiling, cheerful people while the rest of the crowd fades away. Dad and mum in their exercise clothes, my grandparents still holding hands, my brother J with his usual rumply hair plus his gf S, my sister, my other brother J2, myself and A. We were all living in one suburb, setting - Melbourne, that I am certain of in the dream. My parents have retired and finally have all the time in the world to leisurely do everything that they wanted to do; they busy themselves with visiting their children; the houses are in constant cooking storm as the ladies in the family are quite able kitchen goddesses. There was not a single frame in the whole scene where anyone is left alone; we were always together; conversations never stopped; laughter never faded. There was an intense feeling of satisfaction and happiness in my heart.

I did not want to wake up from that dream. Now I am writing about it.

Reality is, my family are scattered in three different places. My parents and grannies are in Manila, my brother J and sister are in Hong Kong, and I am in Melbourne with my other brother J2. They say that dreams are extensions of our daytime consciousness, albeit sometimes distortions occur they are still based on our human thoughts. It won't take a rocket scientist to come up with a precise interpretation of this one, as I am obviously caught up in the reverie that very soon our family will all settle in one place. What wouldn't I give to be able to have dinner with everyone else again every night, to be able to gather up my mum and sister together for our weekly shopping, to be a few minutes drive away from all of them who means the world to me? In the past, I have smirked at a comment I heard from a friend of my dad's when he talked about his daughter, about not letting her go overseas and explore the vast opportunities out there when she wanted to because nothing so great is great enough to replace the proximity between family. My thoughts then, on that note, was absurd, idealistic, and totally unpractical. Now being a daughter who is far away, I understand.

Say What?????

2005-09-07T16:14:00.000+10:00

Goodness gracious, half an hour after and I am still laughing myself to madness. Excerpt from a phone conversation I had this afternoon.

---Phone rings---
Me: Hello, Jovy speaking!
Caller: Hi there! This is Sarah from (company). How are you going?
Me: I'm great, thank you. How are you?
Caller: Good, thanks. I'm calling regarding your application. Congratulations you were shortlisted. Would you be able to come and see our Managing Director tomorrow?
Me: Oh, I'm afraid tomorrow is not a good time. I have a couple of appointments throughout the day. How about Friday?
Caller: Let's see... Friday 10am good for you?
Me: Yes, absolutely.
Caller: Fantastic! Let me give you the address... (proceeds to give me location), it's near Central
Me: Hmmm... (repeated address again), this is in the city?
Caller: Yes, so we'll see you on Friday then!
Me: Thanks Sarah.

After hanging up, I proceeded to check the address and location on street-directory online. Funny, but I couldn't find it in Victoria. My fault was I could not even remember having applied for such and such position in such and such company. Anyway, thinking to myself that I could have gotten the name wrong or the details wrong, I searched our dear friend Mr G <-- Google. All entries showed the address given to me to be located in Sydney! *Groan* So when she mentioned Central, what registered in my head was Melbourne Central, when what she really meant was Central station in Sydney.

---Called back Sarah---
(At this point I checked the number that was registered when she rang my mobile, true enough the area code was 02 - Sydney!)
Me: Hi Sarah, this is Jovy... we spoke 5 minutes ago regarding an interview for Friday? Let me just clarify, but you guys are in Sydney. I am in Melbourne.
Sarah: Oh! I'm sorry! I was meaning to send your details to our Melbourne office, and hey I called you instead. (Laughs to herself). Well, I guess there wouldn't be enough time for you to drive up to Sydney huh (said jokingly).
Me: Errr...
Sarah: Really sorry about that mix-up! I'll call up the Melbourne office right away and arrange the same time for tomorrow, then? Hmmm, is there any time difference?
Me: Huh? Between Sydney and Melbourne - no, we're on the same timezone! And no, I am not available tomorrow. We have agreed on Friday.
Sarah: Right! Well, Friday in the Melbourne office then. Look, I'll call you back in a tick, I'll just have to confirm with them.

---End of story---

That's just what I need for this exhausting, nerve-wrecking, roller coaster of a day. Made my tummy hurt. :-)

My New Toy

2005-09-03T01:33:00.001+10:00

Sounds kinky eh? Not! Hehehe.

For the want of occasional changes in look, but lacking the courage to have any cosmetic changes done (not that there's anything really that I want to have enhanced, reduced, chiseled, sculpted, removed, disguised, or whatever other reasons that anyone would have to go under the knife for), I resorted to experiment on that one area that even when damaged could regrow, be easily remedied, and nursed back to health. My hair. And so there... I went ahead and bought myself a hair iron; it can be used both for straightening and making curls. It's amazing how wide the range is for these kinds of products. A hair iron is just a hair iron, simple as that right? Not quite. Prices between a low-end product and a high-end one could be between $30 - $300, and there are endless features - digital, non-digital, solid ceramic or ceramic technology (the latter being better), whether suitable for wet and dry hair or only for dry locks, whether good for fine or thick hair, the list goes on. I reckon that a mid-range product priced around $60 - $100 will be good enough if only for personal use.

Before hair experts have discovered relaxing, rebonding, extenso, and what other hair-straightening methods there are - all to the utter joy of many women who agonise over their so-called unruly, wavy hair, we really had to just live with ultra conditioning and serious blow-drying, eh? Been there, done that... although I would say that I have pretty much of a tame mane. Too typical now that it felt the need to be unruly once more. So going back to the newest addition to my collection of gizmos, its purpose really is for experimentation on curls and twists. Eversince I was young I have always marvelled at ladies with beautiful soft curls --- au naturale... not quite those grandma-looking ones that come fresh from the salon still smelling of perming chemicals (not that there's anything wrong with that!... play it safe here lest I offend anybody). Today I had a play with it for the first time and I'd say... man, it ain't as easy to do as it looks! Care must be taken not to burn your hair and your scalp. Since it was better to clamp the iron on not too big a chunk of hair each time for ease in twisting and twirling, it obviously would take a long time for me to get my whole head done considering the amount of hair I have! Furthermore, I had to make sure that they're done properly at each layer. It was tricky at first... if you tugged on it too hard, you'll get hard icky curls, if too loose, it'll look as if it has just been clamped by rubber. There's also the problem of getting the hair at the back done... I had fabulous help, thanks to A for his patience and ingenuity. Alas, after around half an hour, we achieved a satisfactory result. I had initially wanted sort of soft french curls but that'll take more practice I suppose. For now, I think it's not too bad. :-)

Pet Woes

2005-08-25T12:10:00.000+10:00

For months now, we have been deliberating on whether or not to import good ol' Max to Australia. The idea came to us when we decided that this is the place where we will be for the next few years. The urgency, however, only occurred to me recently when Max was found with papillomatosis (a non-cancerous tumor, already surgically removed weeks ago), increased level of white blood cells, and now some wounds which has ruptured (suspected by my sister to be something called lick granuloma - which is due to mental stress and boredom!?!). Before I continue, let me first introduce Max.

Max is my yellow labrador retriever, a pure breed, born Apollo Cani Dei on the 27th of September 2001. He became mine at 2 months. Knowing that young pups need a lot of care and attention, I would wake up at 5:30 to get myself ready for work and have enough time to feed him and play with him. At 4 months I hired a personal trainer for Max; he obviously is a very bright dog. He would try to dodge the trainer when he sees him approaching. Max showed very good progress, obedient and skillful of the commands and tricks he was taught. He also proved to be too enthusiastic and knows when and from whom he could get away being naughty. He would listen to the trainer, but would happily chase the new househelp for the fun of it. It wasn't easy raising Max; he clearly is a big dog and it is a struggle when he resists at activities he does not particularly enjoy - e.g. bath, and going down the stairs. He is scared of going down the stairs! For such a masculine dog, it's a shame when Char would call him Maxine because of this weakness. Being too energetic, he sometimes scares visitors away, tugging at them. He may come off as disobedient, but he is just a playful dog oblivious of his own size and strength! In my mind, it will be good for him to have other dogs to play with, but the idea of getting other pups has to be dismissed knowing the disapproval of the "elders" in the family. September of this year, Max will be turning 4. I will see him again in December.

He was still very much of a pup when I left Manila... barely 2 years old. Unbelievable as it may sound, but having left Max back home gives me an awful feeling of guilt, like that of an unwilling parent abandoning a helpless infant. Sure there are people back home who would take care of him, but it is different from when I was there. I could see and feel his over-excitement and joy whenever I go back for a holiday. Somehow he knows because he would be waiting by the stairs every time I arrive home. At the same time, he senses when I am leaving again, as he would be howling and whimpering as our luggages are being carried down. I am not able to exactly define what Max thinks or feels, but I know for sure that he becomes lonely and longing for more affection now than before. The complications he has now, I don't doubt, are partly due to the situation that he is in. I feel responsible for these... had I not left him things may have been different.

This brings us then to the question on how to bring Max over. Many have expressed their opinions on the idea, in summary "a lost cause" they would say, "a futile attempt" they reckon. But will the attempt be futile? I don't know. There are many obstacles that we have to go through if we really are proceeding. The major one is quarantine laws. Australian Quarantine does not allow direct importation of dogs to Australia from non-approved countries. The Philippines is a non-approved country. The only way we could go around this is to import Max to an approved country where he should continuously reside for 6 months, before he could be imported to Australia. The only Asian countries in this category are: Brunei, Hong Kong, Japan, Macau, Singapore, and Taiwan. My only option is Hong Kong, where I have family. Then again, Max would have to pass quarantine laws of that country. And would my family in Hong Kong agree to take him for half a year, make sure that he gets his shots, walk him, care for him, etc? Two very trying feat. Another question I ask, would Max make it under quarantine? Would I be subjecting him to more stress, anxiety, and loneliness? I'm afraid I don't know.

The way to go now is to research more on requirements, and proceed with the initial steps. I can already hear the voices of criticism and disapproval. I wonder if I can pull this off.

Snip Snip Away

2005-08-10T19:13:00.000+10:00

From ancient times to this modern day and age, the constant transformation of fashion and trend never ceases… however, always going around that 360 degree turn... or return. Rummaging through our parents’ old stuff would usually find us some vintage treasures that when worn would look cool and hip today. But somehow this cycle does not seem to apply to hair styles, eh? Who would now go around sporting a long hair tied up in a bun that is so distinctive to the men in many old Chinese dynasties? How about the long, shiny, straight Beatles look? Or Elvis Presley’s complete with sideburns? What were they thinking? Shivers!

Women have since the beginning been more conscious of their style and look than the male counterpart. It is only lately that men have revolutionised themselves and started adopting similar kind of care and consciousness towards their appearances. Men are now using hair wax, leave-on conditioner; they’ve started colouring their hair, wearing them long, perming and even braiding. Gone are the Ming dynasty and medieval looks, but oh helloooo the short spike, sleek back, soft curls, etc. More and more salons catering to men have popped up, even charging cutting and styling fees comparable to women cuts. Outrageous! Harharhar! Anyway, before the rambling really gets out of place, I must say that this entry is not going to lead to any profound conclusions, no deep thoughts or insights are going to be said, no research has been conducted or books read for review, just a stream of spontaneous writing, and sharing of an amateur’s (me) work on someone’s (him!) crown. Have a look.

That was Monday afternoon's project. The participant - Mr A is holding Mr M (compare and contrast the two's hairdo). I have two hairdressing scissors, brand new, never been used, sitting inside the cupboard itching to get out of its wrappings. The brave soul that Mr A is... was willing enough (or made willing) to be the first client. Looking at how professionals do it, the art seem quite straight-forward and simple. Especially for men's hair. Just gather the hair where it is long and cut away, do this consistently for all parts and in no time, you'll have a shorter version of their former style. What a fool to think that! One thing I've learned is to cut the hair against the direction of growth; cutting horizontally would be a disaster as the cuts will be obvious and we don't want that. Cutting Mr A's hair is also a build-up of confidence, the more I go along the more comfortable I felt trimming his hair; and the more I go along the more at ease he became as well... as a result even dosing off and waking up to a new 'do! *Uh-oh... too late to change your mind now, eh?* We didn't exactly achieve the Brad Pitt look... no serious spunky spikes; but we've settled for George Clooney's short crown. Simple, easy to maintain, with a teeny bit of a hiccup here and there, but still ok.

Fishy Week

2005-08-06T01:46:00.000+10:00

We are regulars of the Victoria Market, a place where fresh food products are of abundance and selling at reasonably better prices than the local butcher or the supermarket. It is also the place to be when buying fresh (not frozen) seafood, which supermarkets are unable to make available. Seldom does a week go by without anyone from this household frequenting the market to purchase the week’s supply of seafood, mostly fish than prawns or squid which have higher cholesterol content. Our diet I would say have become more of a consciously planned out one, inclined towards more white meat, fruits and vegetables.

It has been a fishy week. We’ve had four different types of fish for the last seven days, cooked in different ways of course. Having fish very often is good, but not when it is the same kind and the same flavour every time. That can actually be quite putting. And so it is an adventure to experiment on and try out various types of preparation for fish. To share some:

Salmon
Salmon can be prepared in many ways. Often I would put it in the oven and bake my pre-seasoned salmon wrapped in foil, primarily because baking requires the least effort. Some of the baked salmon styles I have done – (1) seasoned with salt and pepper and brushed with butter, this is quick and simple, the flavour soft thus retaining the natural taste of the fish; (2) seasoned with mixed herbs, sliced onion, and topped with lime cut into thin cross-sections, this one gives a more tangy flavour to the salmon; (3) placed on a bed of cut spring onions, sprinkled with salt, touch of chilli, brown sugar and a tiny squeeze of either lemon or orange juice, this gives a mixture of saltiness, spiciness, sweetness, and sourness.

Of course, pan frying and grilling are also standard ways of cooking salmon. These methods just require constant attention. Salmon head can also be baked or pan-fried; they’re good when they reach a level of crispiness. But I reckon that they are still best in soup. Boiling your salmon head in water, adding some miso paste, some cut tofu and a dash of seaweed… very good for colder winter days.

Trevally
Like salmon, I have tried cooking trevally by oven-baking and pan-frying. One deviation from the former fish is that it is not as suitable to be brushed with butter. Herbs and spices are good. I’ve twice tried putting it on a bed of chopped coriander, topped it with sliced tomatoes and lemon, of course it’s a given that the fish has already been rubbed with salt, seasoned with a bit of desired herbs, and then wrapped in foil and baked. It turned out tasting like a distinctive Filipino dish… sinigang! The coriander gives it a slight twist, some people may not like this flavour but we certainly do.

Craving for some bread-crumbed cover fish, but not wanting to deep fry, my alternative method is to use the same coating but baking the fish. First and as always, season the fish, this time all the desired herbs, salt, etc. are mixed with plain flour. After coating the fish with this, dip into egg (beaten), and then dipped into another bowl of breadcrumbs and sesame seed. Baking tray should be brushed with oil so that the fish doesn’t stick. 30 minutes in the oven with 200 C gas mark should make it all brown and scrumptious. For dip, Thai sweet chilli will do… or maybe it’s just me. :-)

Another favourite is to pan-fry, and having sugar caramelise on the fish towards the end… when the fish is already cooked. Not too much on the sugar as it will be too sweet… and not too early because it will burn.

Flake
My newest and favourite recipe for flake is to cook it semi-Vietnamese, semi-Chinese style. The Vietnamese bit comes in the flavour, and the Chinese bit comes with putting the fish in a clay-pot to simmer. Cut into pieces, jazz the fish up with any spice that you feel like… I like the combination of salt, lemon pepper, and chilli. Coat the fish with a bit of corn flour, and brown them in a wok with heated oil. Now that the tedious part is done, just add chopped garlic, a cup of stock, sugar, chilli, and let cook until the sauce thickens. When it’s almost done, put in some fish sauce to taste, and garnish with sautéed onions. Voila!

Flake is good for these kinds of cooking, as the meat is firmer and is not as prone to crumbling apart when tossed and turned in a wok, or mixed in with other stuff. We have also used this fish for congee… a bit of cheating by adding in some chicken stock for more flavour. Instant yum cha!

Barramundi
The meat of barramundi is finer and softer compared to the above three fishes mentioned. I find that it is most suited for steam cooking. This evening was a barramundi dinner following the standard Chinese cuisine. Thank God I didn’t have to gut or scale the fish; they do all of those in the market. Man, these fish you have to look out for the eyes… are they crystal clear, not already sunken and dead looking… but they’re dead, aren’t they?!?! Anyway… to the cooking… following instructions from my mom stuck at the back of my head for the longest time, I aimed to create the sort of flavour and taste that she produces. Cutting some wedges on the fish and stuffing some slivers of ginger into them (to remove fishy smell) and rubbing it with salt, it went for a fish sauna for 20 minutes. I had soy sauce and sautéed spring onions ready to top on to the fish after cooking. It turned out all well and good, although I consider still a notch below that of my mom’s.

That's about it for this entry on fish... there are heaps more out there in the market ready to be experimented on in the kitchen. Next go... would probably be fishing itself... good to be able to do it from start to finish.

News Flash!!!

2005-08-02T20:07:00.000+10:00

This afternoon, I went to the local DIMIA office (Department of Immigration and Multicultural and Indigenous Affairs) to get a new label for my passport. Nope, it’s not an extension of my student visa… I’ve a collection of them already, and thank goodness I don’t need to get any of those anymore. A permanent residence visa… that’s my passport’s new accessory! Although I didn’t have any qualms of not being granted permanent residency, I was still very much surprised to receive the letter evidencing the grant… because it all happened within one week of lodging my application. So there… one thing out of the way, one thing less to wait for.

The onshore skilled independent applications nowadays are processed really efficiently. As long as one has all the requirements and documents complete, properly organised and numbered, the processing will be very swift. Many lodge their applications with only partial of the requirements sent. Although this does not invalidate the application, it will undoubtedly prolong the processing time, as when follow-up documents are sent, the office would have to go through finding the person’s files, reviewing the entire application again, yada yada yada, and it is very likely that it’ll be put off until someone gets the time to look at it again. There is also the possibility that documents get misplaced in the course of the whole thing. For the case officer, between a complete set of application and an incomplete set, the former will of course be the choice, while the latter may be deemed as quite tedious. So, the trick is to get everything ready before lodging the application.

This new accoutrement… hopefully, will signal new prospects and open up new roads. And yippee… I would be able to go home for Christmas!

***
Ok, in response to Jeffrey's tag:
What are the things you enjoy, even when no one around you wants to go out and play?
- have an afternoon tea or coffee, while playing crosswords
- bake
- write… thus my blog
- go to Border’s across the street, plant myself on one of the couches, and pour over books and magazines

What lowers your stress/blood pressure/anxiety level? Make a list, post it in your journal.
- the patience of Andrew, he's like a calming soothing drug
- exercise, the major stress reliever
- grocery shopping, shoe shopping
- head and shoulder massage

Sis

2005-07-31T23:46:00.000+10:00

Early this morning we sent Apple off to the airport. Two weeks… and it has just gone by so quickly. I want her to stay longer, indefinitely even, if possible. However, we all could only appreciate the fact that for now, the paths carved out for us are in different locations. Hers in Hong Kong, mine in Melbourne. For the moment… I say that because we are hopeful that one day we will set our bases in one single place, hopeful that one day we will not have to cram everything that we want to do together in a short two-week holiday.

I vividly recall the turning points in our lives when we made the decision to live away from our comfort zones, to explore and take on opportunities that have presented themselves to us. Apple got into a prestigious university in Hong Kong too difficult to pass up. That was three years ago. As for myself, the objectives I’ve set led me to Melbourne. That was almost three years ago as well. In between then and now, events occurred, experiences made, and they have only strengthened our minds in the belief that we have made the right decisions and broaden our horizons. However, these decisions come at a cost; for seldom does it happen that a gain of a good thing takes place without the compromise or sacrifice of an equally good thing. In our case, it has been three years since my sister and I have really spent endless moments together, endless in the sense that we are not wary of how much more time we have left for each other, not anxious of when we could find the next sisterly bonding time. I do not deny that occasionally I think about the could-have-been outcomes hadn’t we chosen what we chose. In more highly emotionally charged moments, I veer towards doubt and scepticism, questioning myself whether what we have gone for are worth all the trouble and the consequences of separation. This two week period that I got to spend time again with Apple, although short, was a time spent on finding again and reliving the days when we were younger and waking up seeing each others’ dishevelled selves, heckling each other, etc. It was something that we have normally taken for granted, at times perhaps even a cause of annoyance, but now being able to once again be around each other for almost 24 hours a day is such a freshness. Seeing her leave today pulled some heartstrings. The distance and separation hasn’t changed anything much, except for the obvious that now there’s more longing to stick together, more awareness of how precious each passing moment is.

It’s a whole lot of contradictions, the relationships of sisters are. They could be the closest friends yet the nastiest rivals. They could be bickering like crazy one second and sharing laughs, exchanging tips the next. They could be each other’s pickiest critic, at the same time the most trusted confidant. They could be the girl you’ve had the most nightmarish fights with, and yet also the one with whom together you have created the deepest, finest, defining moments of your life. They are the ones whom you were annoyed with all the time, but couldn’t get enough of all the same. They were perhaps the ones you had the most jealous fits with, although this does not take away the fact that she is also the same girl who you fervently want to see highly successful and happy. They could have, at one point or another, made you wish that they don’t exist at all, yet you would never imagine your world without them. Each could have followed different roads yet their lives will always be intertwined no matter what.

I have only one sister, in a family with a brood of four. Although 3.5 years apart in age, we have practically grown up side by side, sharing a room for more than 15 years, squabbling over cupboard spaces now and then, giving each other the cold shoulder once in a while. Funny thing is in spite of those things, we are close-knit. She probably knows me like the back of her hand, and I would say the same about her. Throughout the years and in my eyes, she has transformed from a mere little sister whom I have to share the limelight with… to a unique and talented individual whom I am most blessed to call a sister and a friend. Neither time nor distance has taken away the more important things from us. There is such thing as indescribable attachment, a different kind of friendship and connection. I feel it exists between us. Not everyone has the best relationships, and not everyone gets along with their siblings very well. Between my sister and myself, we have our shares of ups and downs, but all the same they lead to mutual caring. I’m lucky that ours is just the right blend, not perfect but one that is of genuine affection and love. We may not say it but we know it.

Hey sis, you rock. Looking forward to the next occasion when together we will paint the town red. A different city next time.

The Sunshine State

2005-07-27T04:19:00.000+10:00

Three days of sunshine! We’ve just been back from a trip to the Gold Coast, and getting away is a major good thing especially when we’re right smack in the middle of winter here in Melbourne. My sister is here for a 2-weeks holiday… and we thought it nice to go up north where it’s warmer and sunnier.

It was pretty good timing around which we organised the trip. School and Uni holidays were just over, therefore air fares were back to reasonable and we didn’t have to fight hordes of people for space in places we went to, knowing that Queensland is such a popular holiday location for those craving for kinder climate. So, drowsy but determined we took the earliest flight on Sunday morning (already in the airport at 5 bloody a.m.!) and our holiday began. There were four of us on this trip; four very excited young people for all out fun. We didn’t waste anytime and after dropping all our bags in the apartment we rented, drove directly to Movieworld. To me, the novelty of theme parks has long gone and even with this one I find quite mediocre. The rides, attractions, and shows were not too extraordinary and the park is of course not as big compared to the ones in America. Nevertheless, it was heap loads of fun being with three wacky and down to earth people. We repeatedly drenched ourselves from a log ride, which by far is one of the more exciting ones. I suppose we could always dry ourselves in some roller coaster.

Our second day was spent mostly in Surfers’ Paradise. It is very good how they have developed this area. From its name one would naturally deduce that it’s surfing heaven and beach-goers haven. It offers more than those things. There’s a huge portion of shopping arcades, shops and boutiques, restaurants and cafés, tourist information centres – all near or along the beach esplanade. There is something for everyone. Our whole day was spent leisurely strolling around, absorbing the most that we can of the place. The best part I would say is just lazing around in an almost empty (but not totally!) beach, unconcerned of time or the next activity. What’s more, while in a place called Victoria the temperature could be between 8 – 13 degrees, it was such a pleasure to be two hours away in Queensland, soaking up in sunshine that gives a tingle to the skin, a bit burning but not, the warmth lingering for longer than one would expect. No wonder it is called the Sunshine State… people still wear shorts in winter. The day was capped with an impulsive decision to drive up to Brisbane for a late night hot Italian chocolate; and man it was definitely worth the 1-hour drive up and 1-hour drive back! These kinds of spontaneities we relish much as most of us rarely find the luxury to do so in our everyday hustle and bustle.

Alas our third and last day… we started off with a big breakfast of whole grilled chicken and ribs! Il fresco eating, we welcomed not a few glances from people who probably thought us all mad to be stuffing ourselves with meat and more meat at 10 in the morning. Who cares? We don’t. The meal was lovely. Another day at the beach, but this time driving almost three hours up north to Noosa. The drive was as enjoyable as the destination; for we could see how flora changes from one place to another, notice the differences between those in Victoria and in Queensland. It seems that they are more lush and green in the sunshine state. The houses near the coast are also spectacular, evident that those with properties where the sea is visible are undoubtedly well-off. The beach was not as nice as Surfers’ Paradise, and I’d say it’s not at all comparable to Boracay in the Philippines. But this one was also a bit deserted and quiet; there were no shops along the beach selling food and trinkets, no people hassling you along the beach to go on a boat tour and such. It was a quiet place to read a book or watch the surfers. *wink*

For three days we were able to free our bodies from winter coats and our limbs from gloves and boots. Three full days of good company and lavish enjoyment, hopefully enough recharge for 1.5 more months of colder days back here in Victoria.

Bullshit Bingo

2005-07-12T17:40:00.000+10:00

Copied from http://www.phys.unsw.edu.au/~jw/meetings.pdf
Well, they said that this UNSW professor Joe Wolfe is responsible for this "great" bingo invention. I ask, why would a respectable university academic staff, in physics (!!!), make such a travesty of the coporate as exhibited in this bingo game? Oh well... maybe he's just bored. Or maybe it wasn't his doing. I'll post it anyway, for fun's sake.

Do you keep falling asleep in meetings and seminars? What about those long and boring conference calls? Here is a way to change all that!

How to play: Check off each block (or word) when you hear these words during a meeting, seminar, or phone call. When you get five blocks (or words) horizontally, vertically, or diagonally, stand up and shout Bullshit!

Testimonial from satisfied players:
* I had only been in the meeting for five meetings when I won. --- Jack W., Boston
* My attention span at meetings has improved dramatically. --- David D., Florida
* What a gas. Meetings will never be the same for me after my first win. --- Bill R., NYC
* The atmosphere was tense in the process meeting as fourteen of us waited for the fifth box. --- Ben G., Denver
* The speaker was stunned as eight of us shouted "bullshit" for the third time in two hours. --- Kathleen L., Atlanta

There you go folks! If only one has the gall and enough balls to actually play this game, then I'll be d*****! Can anyone imagine the look on Donald Trump's face if one of his apprentices actually pull this kind of stunt? Can anyone think of a person who would actually risk his job (unless he is dying to up and go, really!) for the amusement of all? I can think of one... perhaps Richard Branson, the man with the long list of pranks and still managed to be on top. Then again, his is a different case, his is a different ball game. When I become a millionaire, then maybe...! =D

Aliens versus Engineers

2005-07-07T12:01:00.000+10:00

For total movie satisfaction, sci-fi flicks are just not the ones for overly analytical, overly enthusiastic engineers.

I always watch movies with engineers… sometimes with just one engineer, sometimes with 2, or 3, or 4 of them... So part of the entertainment for me, apart from the cinematic thrill per se, are the series of comments, diatribes, mockeries and jokes that occur afterwards – compliments, of course, of my witty engineer friends.

Remembering all of them is tough, but here are some stuff picked from memory:

Independence Day

Do aliens use Windows as well? Bill Gates must be that popular hey? Tough to think that ALIEN systems can get infected by MAN-MADE computer virus as well.

Signs

Again, dumb aliens. Perhaps they have forgotten that water is deadly to them and so they go on mindlessly invading a planet with water covering 70% of its surface.

War of the Worlds

Obviously the aliens do not have a very good sensor technology with their super-duper robotics. Can't even snuff out three lives hiding in a dingy basement.
The aliens who have been monitoring Earth for MILLIONS of years failed to adapt, develop resistance, or have a counter for the bacteria that exist in the planet.

Aliens Versus Predators

Enough said! It’s a comedy.

Again, proving Murphy’s Law… if anything can go wrong, it will. Die you aliens!!!!! Engineers rule!!! But that’s another story.

Attitude Attitude

2005-07-02T01:03:00.000+10:00

“It’s hard to organise Indian labour…”

I couldn’t help but gawk in disbelief as these words were just so nonchalantly spat out by that big-headed, pea-brained, oh-c’mon-look-at-me-I’m-so-beyond -your-league wanker Rob from The Amazing Race. I apologise for the crass manner in which I refer to this person but there could be no other term more apt than that.

R and his partner Amber have been coming out first in many of the legs of the game. Good on them. It’s a game, everyone is going for each other’s neck; they’re all out to win, and the pressure is on. Fine by me. That however doesn’t give any of them the excuse to act like pompous arses and spew out derogatory comments towards those who are not part of the game, and what’s more, not there to benefit from any 1 million dollars anyway! Going back to Rob, the above comment came out when they had to push and transfer a huge statue of an elephant from one point to another. They were in India. The streets are packed with Indians. Indian kids seem to be everywhere. R and A needed help to quickly move this huge-ass thing to find their next clue. While A was doing her share of work, R was bellowing to the locals to lend a hand in pushing. Now, these people have no obligation to help them, nor are they required to give way and make things easy for these tourists in a competition. But for some reasons, in many non-Western developing countries, having white skinned visitors around is a marvel to behold, being able to be “of assistance” may feel like glory to some. The local kids were happily pushing R and A’s load, although of course still not up to R’s standards, thus his comment.

The remark was definitely loaded, not just a harmless quip, borne out of a feeling of dominance. I was annoyed at how commanding R was to these people. Hello??? They are not your hired help! I was likewise riled with his scornful aside, giving off an insinuation that these people are fit for labour work alone, and nothing more. To also be frustrated with the organisation of how they are voluntarily helping him out is just too thick-skinned of him. Shouldn’t he be grateful instead that the locals didn’t see them as nuisance to their everyday busy lives?

I couldn’t help but grit my teeth in infuriation when I see or encounter such kind of attitude. True, there will always be those who are more educated, more privileged, prettier, and richer. Likewise, there will be those who lack certain privileges, disadvantaged in life, etc. But people who deem themselves to be at a higher plane than others may well be doing us all a favour by not flaunting themselves as demigods. Perhaps it can’t be helped that superiority complex in some people surface. Then again it’s a different thing when it surfaces in concurrence with belittling another. That feeling of self-importance ticks a lot of people off. Others are just too polite to tell them off.

Someone should get a stick out and go about curbing those attitudes.

Stomach on Revolt

2005-06-28T16:06:00.000+10:00

My stomach is still upset. The headache from the alcohol has gone but my tummy feels like it’s been punched from the inside, thrown on a dirt road, kicked several times, and run over by a bulldozer; and now it’s trying to heal its wounds and bruises. It couldn’t be food poisoning because there is none of those throwing up drama and diarrhoea runs. The last time I had a serious case of that was half a year ago back home in Manila ON CHRISTMAS DAY! What a holiday that was… such irony too for it’s that time of the year when everybody enjoys sumptuous meals and I had to pace it down for a week or so. Bummer. The only consolation I got was the shedding off of a few kilos.

Anyway, I digress.

This time, my stomach revolt is not that severe. Two of our very good friends are moving up to Canberra soon, and it’s also a coincidence that my former flatmate is down from Canberra for the weekend. So, we all got together and went to Thaila Thai for dinner and for catching up. Thaila Thai is quite a popular Thai restaurant not only because it is reasonably priced but also because of the yummy curries and mixed satays it has. Now, except for my former flatmate Tim whose chilli tolerance level is pretty low compared to us but relatively better compared to most Aussies, we were all Asians who have a natural penchant for really spicy stuff. But somehow that time, the food came out tasting like they have been marinated for a week in incredulously mind-blowing spice! But not to worry, after all we were pretty confident of our gastric juices’ capability to break down these fiery things. Or so I thought...! Not yet content, I also had a fair amount of Riesling. Good wine is always irresistible and it would be a shame to leave it to waste. The guys would be driving, giving us girls more excuse to finish off the bottle. However, now I wonder if pairing wine with spicy food works. To me, it somehow intensifies the burning sensation in the pit of one’s stomach. Then again to contradict myself, Riesling is on the sweeter side, and should be a better complement to spicy food than would other types of wine. Well! Whatever the answer is, I think I had way too much hot stuff and way too much to drink. Whether the combination is good or not, I would probably have ended up like this anyway.

Excessive indulgence is not a good thing. One go at it begets a week-long agony. Awww! Please nurse my stomach back to health.

If I Were A Butterfly...

2005-06-20T03:20:00.000+10:00

If I were a butterfly, I would race across a field of irises, lose myself in its vastness, and envelope myself in the fragrance of our earth. I would wait for twilight to break, when the first ray of sunlight kisses my wings, and I will bask in that glorious gift streaming from the heavens. There would be a sweet languor in the air and I will let the breeze flutter me where it wills. To my butterfly eyes, the field would be endless, only the beauty and grace of the blooms to my sight. To that field of irises I would whisper away my thoughts and sentiments... and they will be kept in the earth's bosom forever.