social media highs (and lows?)

Some people tweet or uses Facebook and Instagram a lot. But I like words in paragraphs. Photographs may speak a thousand words. But they're easily reproduced even by our chosen clique.

In my school days, there was no Internet. I had to join the school paper to quench the thirst to write. There was also the opportunity to pick the minds of authentic thinkers. To discuss pages contents of our paper with the editorial staff during meetings was pretty cool. It was fascinating to converse with the student writers. Although I haven't seen most of them maintain a blog now. Or I'm just unaware of their many ventures.

Maybe Facebook is great. It's convenient for emails. Instagram, I like lurking on celebrity pages. Although it eternally leaves me gasping for more profound thoughts and half of the slebs followers are bashers. On Twitter, people tend to over tweet. If tweeting can replenish their souls every five seconds, that's fine. I can follow sports in real time on Twitter or the Miss Universe pageant. For my entire opinion about Twitter though, you can easily text/ email me if we're friends.

Facebook, Instagram, Twitter in essence, provide opportunities for friends to comment. There would be more folks who maintain account in either of the three social media platforms than Blogging. And we like it when there's a response to our postings. As if we're essential to their lives. We're Sally Field winning our second Oscar. Our mission in this world is to be liked.

you said, you have problems?

It's a devastation that is not only close to home. It is home.

There's a colleague who had a family who didn't eat for days. We have Tacloban, a provincial capital being reduced to wasteland. Lives are lost.

I know strong winds. It's a staple in our lives. During the many hours of blackouts during the most catastrophic of typhoons growing up, all I could think of was, "please, don't blow away the roof, if the roof goes, what will become of us?" But as time goes by, the winds are getting fiercer, more menacing. When I rang home a few hours ago, there's substantial damage to our roof that needs repair.

But order is still in Bacolod, it's not as bad as in Leyte. The hubby was talking about our infrastructures not up to scratch. We should not live in wooden houses. Yes, because in a country where most people live below poverty line, the first thing we secure is the most expensive of materials for our shelter, brick and stones for every one. Forget about food, forget about water, forget about clothing, forget about the minuscule salary, forget staying alive.

But despite the hardships, the fatalities, we take stock about our lives and have this will power to be grateful and also to help out in every little way possible. Just imagine yourself losing loved ones, starving and wrestling with mosquitoes and a sense of helplessness.

One day, we won't have shanties in the Philippines. We won't have floods? When a super typhoon is about to hit, we will evacuate every single individual who live in wooden houses and let them stay where? Hotels? Shopping Centres?

As of now, we lend a helping hand, make a contribution, in whatever form.

livened up the proceedings

with a picture of food.

I'm supposed to trawl the web, to read the opinion pages of news papers but I don't have a signal in the cafeteria. I can't check Twitter. I can't read anything. Tomorrow, in another day of marching to the Nursery, I'll bring my magazine, although my copy of Vanity Fair is heavy, I'm strapping my toddler, instead of using the pram.

In this day and age, it's a nightmare to drag small children across zones in London without a car. We're car-less, without a private mode of carriage, on the edge of poverty. Can't drive. Can't manoeuvre past walking distances without utilising public transport. When our child screams in the trains or buses, people look in disdain. I was trying to dig deep and remember if I was ever scornful towards buggies in buses and I reckon it's the other way around, those pram-pushing mothers behave with a sense of entitlement. That's my space, get out. From within, they scream, "I breed, therefore I am."

Being such old hag, I feel the opposite. That is why these days, if I can manage, I seldom use a buggy. Imagine tube stations without lifts? How to navigate the stairs with a stroller? Wait for a stranger to help? I find that awkward, both ways.

harmony

The procrastinator within my psyche urges me to lie down in bed, relax, not to do any chores, after seven in the evening. Besides little daughter wakes up early and getting to bed before the clock strikes ten should be good. But.

As I said, I have chores, especially those I couldn't do when my cutie is awake. Like ironing for hours, or merely tidying up, moving from room to room, picking up morsels of messiness.

I thought I should be good to read or blog. But not quite. I try to keep up with the current issues, formulate opinions. We need to think in this world.

Basically I've come to grips with the topic of differences -- war, peace, cultural and lifestyle divide. Some simply couldn't accept that we differ in beliefs and religions. Some gets too greedy, or nonchalant. Some wants too much power. We live in the same planet despite economic disproportions. Shouldn't we at least co-exist without hatred? Isn't now the time to find balance between countries and entities?
tbc.

theme

these are such lovely presents from auntie vanessa. we gave alexandra a tiny fairy book with sounds. in return, we got a myriad of items. some people are just too kind.

the long grass

reading rubbish up to this point, that's the existence. i won't really call them rubbish, they're quite useful, it's mostly about the Filipino soap, hklm, it's finishing tomorrow, so no more dashing with the chores when i'm about to go to work. twitter has been really helpful this time. there were a few trolls in the comments section of you tube and Facebook, bashing the lead stars. can't please every single individual on this earth.

like the blog, i don't update much on twitter, i don't have many followers. the ones with millions of twitter followers are celebrities. i'm no sleb. i don't even have a thousand friends who matter. the tiny circle is just fine.

facebook meanwhile is such an assistance for all types of friends and family. I'm not posting any thing on the FB wall either, not for a long while, it'll change soon though, bit by bit.

the very young, the ones born decades or much, much later than me are quite adept in incorporating social media into their lives. while i could just untangle my link to the web without tears. that's the beauty of not being able to afford a typewriter during those years of term papers and writing assignments. it was harder to go through life with the messy hard copies and broken finger nails but we survived.

these days, it's all too quick, i'm on my phone, blogging and about to check twitter.

sun screen

summer is almost done. thank goodness (?). although I have affinity towards the light, I'm not comfortable with tons of people in the streets, such an unsociable pariah i am, the antithesis of all the significant people in my existence. yes, I'm a recluse.

now, we're headed towards layers and layers of clothing ( i didn't feel that at 22 degrees earlier under the intense heat of mr. sun). my main coat has been dry-cleaned. the coat ordered from china is nowhere to be found urging me to never buy from e-bay again. i'll reconfigure my jeans, skirts and the handful of dresses, start the sessions of yoga and dancing to shift some weight. but first, a siesta or a lie-in wouldn't hurt. yes, a sprinkle of wishful thinking is comforting.

high speed bike chase

in the slums. in the heaviest of Manila's traffic. the only reason I seek the Bourne Legacy (haven't seen all the previous Bourne films) because a few shots used my country's capital as a glorious backdrop. and movies sell more than documentaries. and blockbusters sell to the favoured denomination, of the portion of the global population who don't require to think, but just to watch, observe and follow. however long it took me to decipher (i'm a slow learner) that RP may not yet boast of elegance in its various metropolis. but when it comes to natural landscape, chicken barbecue and warmth of its guest relations committee, we're the sweet icing.

as for Jeremy Renner and Rachel Weisz, the film is too light for their range. but hope they enjoyed the views in Palawan (the closing credit scene in the boat).

eddshrinker cup 2013

team Ben -- 6
Dicko -- 2
Dazza -- 1
Chicko -- 1
Stubbsy -- 1

team Dave -- 4
Dan -- 2
Wayne -- 2

Goal of the Match
Dazza -- free kick ( team Ben)

Man of the Match
Jason (team Ben)


--for Edd--
one of the nicest blokes ever.

fly high RP

searching for inspiration on how the dear old motherland would excel, i recalled Ryan's friend, thought of my maternal grandmother and the great aunts, tried to observe the gamut of my friendships, read and read some more. some of the guys amongst my Facebook friends have deep philosophic political opinions (c'mon ladies!). during my school years, the girls got the highest grades and win the top student electoral posts and all other positions, go to places (literally). now the ladies just want to be mothers (harder than anything).

I'm talking politics because it's the key to empowerment. Enacting laws to change the status quo like the RH bill, passing legislation like mandating big business to end contractual employment to their staff, providing social and health benefits, pushing the citizenry to work harder, promoting good government that the rebel forces would just die a natural death, vanishing red tape. but in hindsight, despite moments of grave hunger, we don't wallow in depression. we thrive with our happy spirit. living in the catacombs does not shatter the disposition.

however, there is that leeway to polish the gem. work only, no parties? trimming the excess baggage is not that hard.

continue to innovate

saw this article from my tita wan's Facebook page, an article from The Economist and I know it looks good. but thinking above and beyond, I long for the days the RP no longer have to rely from the diaspora, the diligence and fortitude of a myriad of overseas workers providing for a unit of society. numbers and ratings are good. but we are standing on earthquake-prone grounds. as long as our workers search for greener pastures beyond our shores and our level of comfort is not yet competitive with the leading economies, life would continue to be a struggle for majority of the population. how to bridge the gap with the G8 nations is the topic of discourse. a world and future; where the Philippine educational system is on top of the totem pole, where our universities are the Ivy League and Oxbridge of the present; where our power lines are hidden in underground cables; where we observe risk and safety measures in our construction sites; where slums and poverty may not be non-existent but becoming obsolete; where the bread winners, the movers and shakers are not subsisting on paltry pay.

however at this point, as our countrymen in Taiwan are fearing for their lives and we face discrimination in whatever country we go, it's time to saturate, to find ways to improve our lives and slowly reach the plateau, it usually starts with a creative idea (to continue).

blooming May

i have no time for all the activities in my imaginary list. it remains imaginary until i find a moment to write an actual list. first, i need a nap. or for the baby to sleep for an hour. or a little bit of help from time to time. the heavy lifting in all scopes of living seems a little bit much, an all too real entity in the quest for the necessary self-esteem.

nothing wrong with downtime, none at all.

an hour and a half

I've been hibernating for more than an hour in a quiet, serene corner. Little girl is asleep in the cot next to me. I'm tired but slowly recharging my energy to tackle a few more kitchen work. I should be finishing the baby's photo book. I still need a few more pictures to upload from hub's phone for its completion.

This week I've been percolating about the culture divide, why it's so difficult for some people to practice courtesy, politeness, a little bit of manners. I throw a strop more often than I would like but I'm prudent enough to adhere to my mom's words in perpetuity. Smile. Be friendly.

It's hard for some, behaving with complete and utter snobbery towards those not in their peer group, as if they're Royalty and we have to bow and curtsey. Is it pride? Vengeance for sins of centuries past or the simmering tension of integration? They were raised in a loud, chaotic abode? Their school system was all about the noise? I don't know, a simple smile would do.

In social media, we have to be vague or we could hurt ardent allies, real or imaginary. But we observe, we take down notes and proceed with caution. In the daily briefings, we know whom to like, that's a more basic instinct.

only two days?

spent two whole days with my baby girl without encumbrances and interruptions, it's pure bliss. to say I long for the innocent heydays of maternity leave is utter understatement. if only i could take a year off and stage a more refreshing return to the job. but that isn't possible even to the very rich. to the heirs and heiresses, the trust fund kids, yes, they don't need to work, ever. but to those who are at the pinnacle, the denizens who run their own empires, it might not be possible to take a few months off.

now that the exchange rate between the philippine peso and other currencies is becoming negligible, it's not fiscally prudent to laze and stare into the abyss of nothingness. it's a point to ponder whether RP is really becoming the newest tiger of SE Asia -- fewer corruption, a lot less politics, very little gossip (?). if we flex our muscles, in addition to brainstorming innovative ideas perhaps it could ignite even more economic passion in our lives. but if we take the Juan T. way of waiting for the fruit to descend from the tree, we'll be staring for a long time. though for those of us in Western Europe, it's hoping for a tiny glimmer of gold.

this was yesterday

since our christmas tree was set up, I've been scouring the shops with the aid of telepathy for Christmas trimmings. since telepathy is science fiction, the tree remains lifeless (can't push prams) turn the lights on however and it's magic.

with typhoons, shootings, even fires afflicting a contained populace, Christmas should be in our hearts (love Jose Mari Chan!). look unto ourselves how to be like Mother Theresa even though we're not Catholic (tall order). the presents with their nicely tied ribbons are lovely. but action speaks louder than any inanimate objects in a sparkling wrapper.

that's the way

it's annoying to wallow, to procrastinate. i could blame baby girl. but it's all me. i'm the one that's slow and all too sublunary.

it was illuminating to catch up with joy during her stopover at Heathrow, on a break from her Singapore-Baltimore flight at the beginning of the month. the last time i saw her was nine years ago. nothing's changed basically, we can still talk. i got lost in between terminals and with so little time. i should have read the fine print of her itinerary. the wi-fi sucks a bit but twitter works. hurray to twitter! probably if i cajoled her to write and write, she would resurrect her blog, she's such a good writer, she should be heard.

was able to organise a get-together with the high school friends last week. it was only for the very few, the very minimum. i've learned a lot about the deeper tenets of investments, knowing about holiday resorts in what was a hidden enclave of the home province. the only downside was that Westfield was closed for an hour to give way to the Kardashians. honestly. the old lady we asked, said Kim Basinger was coming. then an hour later we saw the posters of the sisters promoting their new line of clothes for Dorothy Perkins. the highest gravitas are given to lifestyle reality people. yes.

run, run, run

as i was walking to the shops and buy some drinks this afternoon, a scary mature guy broke away from a group of young men standing at the end of our access road, darted his sights and walked straight towards me, ready to attack or grab or whatever. i was so scared, i had to turn back and run for dear life. i heard him shout in a language i didn't understand. did he run after me? no idea. i didn't turn my head even once.

i guess it's just our area, they were standing near the local. but it's very petrifying and after almost seven years, concerning.

the lulls and the likes

if only chores don't exist. i should be efficient but not so much. what gives? it's mostly lurking for good reads, not necessarily gossips. not being able to blog, that hurts.

 i hope to keep the promise of being organised, of not procrastinating, of writing.

that means less Come Dine with Me reruns and more documentaries, or just tidying up for the zen-like moments. i've learned a lot about cultural nuances just these past few months. how the west perceives the east, how imperialism crumbles, it's not new thoughts but teach us more about humility in a myriad of ways.

fair shake

there are a few layers to The Help. there's the aspect of race and equality. there's the essence and psychology of domestic servitude and the relationship with the community. there's the simmering stereotype of roles in Hollywood. we can all leave that behind right now (really heavy stuff) and discuss in brief the movie's discernability .

it may appear it's based on real life's experience but the story is fiction from a novel of the same title. the film is all about the elegant acting of its wonderful cast. viola davis is mesmerising in the title role. you can feel her pain and suffering. we all know from the clips and trailers that octavia spencer provides most of the funny bits and yeah they're maybe hilarious in some levels. with different characterisation and hair colour, i can tell jessica chastain and bryce dallas howard apart. while emma stone, from Superbad to Zombieland to Spiderman is simply prolific. her skeeter may not have the required teardrop moments but she's in the lead.

luster

in my very limited view, i can only assume,( there are tons of versions penned by various columnists and writers), that there are two kinds of people in this world -- those who like to party and those who retreat into their shells and would rather read a book.  there's no prize for guessing my preferred category.  the third in line to the british throne is clearly in the other one -- playing strip billiards with strangers? i'm too useless with a pool stick to even attempt playing a normal game.  yeah, i'm such a sad case.
 this piece doesn't tell us anything we don't already know but why was the 400 IM Olympic champion mentioned as the party companion? the swimmer was with his own wingmen and guests celebrating his 28th birthday.  while as documented, the prince was hanged around with his public school chums.  they have the money and the cache to party in vegas, so let them party in vegas. they don't have to worry about where to get their next meal.
all the stories on neil armstrong is of course, heartwarming.  here was a person who achieved so much yet remained private.  in today's world of reality television, the first man on the moon is the epitome of human accomplishments.  his passing only reminds us of  those fantastic achievements.  discovering new frontiers, doing good, imparting knowledge, amongst other pragmatic endeavours should be the foundation of human existence.
meanwhile in the universe of biblical idioms, i shouldn't be reading too much between the lines.  but certain familiarity breeds contempt.