"Why you're so upset, you don't even know her"

Twenty years.  It has been a long time.  Are we going to Hyde Park and Kensington Palace?  Maybe in the next few days?

Perhaps it was the radiance on her wedding day which captured people's imagination.  She looked so beautiful.  My childhood from the age seven was about a glimpse of her from newspapers and "not even " glossy magazines.  

Magazines in the Philippines in the 80's were mostly newsprint that one buys in the sidewalk.  But we had a monthly supply of Good Housekeping from America (God Bless my godmother!), which sometimes feature a few photo shoots of Princess Diana and her family. Newsweek and Time magazines also provided news on the Royal Family, so we read and were updated. The pictures they painted was such a fairy tale.  

Then as early as like 1987 (or was it '88?), rumours were surfacing about cracks in the marriage. I even played a puzzle game (based on an American game show) with my classmates sophomore year in high school just to assuage myself that yes, fairy tales do come true.  

Of course I was a fool, relationships and marriages are hard work.  People who thought they were in-love in the beginning then discovered they have nothing in common, separate.  What chances do arranged marriages have for bliss and longevity? (Although I had a discussion in Singapore with a colleague about her happiness and contentment on her arranged marriage. Really?). 

So, Princess Diana's union with the Prince of Wales fell apart. I concluded he was a fool for enticing a 20-year old into a world of heartache. After that I just wanted Princess Diana to find her joy.  If it was another union or working on her charities, so be it.  She auctioned her dresses for a cause, that was very kind of her, to give of herself to others.  

When she died in an accident, I was bawling, perhaps the only celebrity who made me so sad.  I cried for her youth and her potential to find comfort and serenity.  But she was ever so brave for taking the cause of Land Mines.  I didn't even knew about land mines before she pushed that issue into the forefront. 

Despite her soft voice and ideal family, I find Kate Middleton features a bit too sharp. She doesn't have the delicate charms of Princess Diana. She has a degree from Uni, masters in history of art.  She should be relatable. Plus her mom's company Party Pieces is so convenient for my daughter's birthday parties as well.  But I couldn't dissect any resonance.

While Princess Diana was the manor born, did not even study for a degree and yet she was the one who could project charisma.  Maybe it was the clothes she wore but I reckon it's the age of social media and the internet.  There are a lot of celebrities in these modern times. Reality television like TOWIE, Love Island et al has catapulted a lot of unknowns into front pages of Hello! magazine.

But then they are the Royals  (ceremonial, ribbon-cutting purposes) -- magazines, newspapers and websites would find them newsworthy, whether it's having their photographs taken in their tour of Commonwealth nations or the choice of school for their children. Although I haven't seen any outpouring of grief in the scale of the Diana funeral in the 20 years since her death.  Not even Michael Jackson nor the Queen Mother.  

So why did I get so upset when she died when I didn't even know her? Because, my dear Prince William, she had the allure of an angel? Or my life was so boring compared to her headline-grabbing session at the gym? I don't know, she just did and she still does after two decades. Despite the mean things trolls say about her.  Well, trolls, sorry, you don't have as much impact with your dead-end lifestyle.

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.

wishing warm

I wish I have more free time these days. I wish I could write loads and loads of text, fill this blog to the brim. And travel to just one more G8 country. I wish I don't snooze as much as necessary.

I wish I could read more fiction and essays. I wish I could write more fiction and essays. I wish I was able to plot my schedule more cognisant to my dearest baby's needs for curiosity hours. Let's request.

chums, be not

it's supposed to be my downtime, the break from a day of cooing and baby talk but sweet little girl decided to wake up to keep me company and such.

I'm waiting for answers to my emails, hoover the particles, clean the high chair, read more about the Kris saga (quitting showbiz?), the state of world economy or technical, scientific matters. I heard from one PhD candidate in last week's lecture ( I was yawning so loud, the lecturer told me off ), "as N's we don't read much." yeah, but we're a tad curious, that's all the time curious about the ephemeral activities of our dearest acquaintances.

forget reading, per se. most people I know don't really care about the written word be it balarila, spelling, newspapers, etc. the spoken word is more thrilling, the comparisons of lives asunder. you're dropped from circles due to inability to watch TFC. but there are also others who will seek your counsel. when I was with ate Lu two weeks ago, her phone won't stop ringing with friends asking her to go shopping or roam around the city. mine doesn't ring as much. should it pierce my hypothalamus sharply? should I burst into tears?

do potter

after a few hours of meddling with my blog's design, i finally able to finish an almost acceptable template. some plug-ins from our desktop were showing unauthorised ads. i had no choice but mess around the lay out until i got a few customisations.

i don't have time for this. staring at computer screens or merely interneting, it takes a lot of attention. i spent five days of my day off the past week just focusing on the baby's routine (and ordering and waiting for parcels) that i couldn't insert some "me" time, even to write the work review. or visit the shops (i did wander in the shopping center for an hour or less. it was half term and the kids weren't taught manners whilst the pram pushers were even worse). darn, i need to fill in the blanks of that review, starting now.

on the 24th

one of my wishes in life is to be articulate, as a writer, a speaker, in any language, to enunciate with close to perfect diction, to write elegant prose, to speak and write the best hiligaynon, the poetic language of simplicity.
then there are others who are brilliant in any endeavour. as an actor, Daniel Day Lewis should be the standard bearer (or Jason Statham, whoever gets your drift). His Lincoln makes you forget he's posh English or he was Guido from Nine. if i have the time ( that's a huge If), i will watch every entry in his filmography, compare and contrast performances, be mesmerised and on the evening of the 24th February, Los Angeles time, I'll stay up late until dawn for his Oscar's speech.

few precious minutes

alone for a while. baby girl is a joy. when she's not around, she's in the mind. during the lull (from the nitty- gritty) in the past months, i've been into domesticity which occupy the basal ganglia which should leave my pre-frontal cortex free to think and solve problems (hurray for the writers of the Big Bang Theory). i'm more philosophical now. i blog far less because the baby cries but i could dig more in-depth into the subconscious.

it's hard not to form into words the hidden ideas when it's feeding time or to dwell on chitchat in whatever time. the flesh is ever so weak when it's close to midnight or sunrise. we haven't finished tidying up after the move. i'm exhausted.

thanks, murks

My second grade classmate (with gaps in between, until high school), Murky, sent me a package of various items a week ago, just a pair of slippers (above), a pair of trainers, a Ralph Lauren sleep suit, all for baby girl. And a top for me. Realising that we haven't seen each other since secondary school graduation (more than 21 years ago), all I can mutter is "she's really sweet." A few BFF's couldn't even return my text or text me without prodding or email me back for formality's sake or take time to surprise me with a few words. While Murks answers mails in a jiffy. And based from her timeline, she spoils her Facebook throng with updates. Three active children with energy-deflating school runs and activities, living in Maryland, thousands of miles away from her family do not wither her spirits.

Some people couldn't help but be good natured. Murks was not only a preeminent soprano in our award-winning elementary school choir (not to mention her church choir) but she's a grizzled arts and crafts practitioner. The trinket she sent me during my last birthday was very thoughtful. So, in earnest I've been fortunate to have met Murks when were eight. I wish her all the Hallmark moments in life. She deserves her beautiful family.

Of course there are others who are quick on their touch screens to perk me up from the mundane -- Honey, Zany, and Ryan. Let's add Julie as well.

badge

my back aches right now. it's not something chronic, only a one-off, just this moment. i love to sleep and staying awake for feedings is a challenge. there are sacrifices we need to do for wishes to be granted. i'm so slow in exploring a few areas for improvement in my routines (like penning this blog) while a bit better in some others (pacifying baby screams).



with a portion of clothing covered in barf, i look almost as dishevelled as SJP in I Don't Know How She Does It. if only i could have an enormous an abode as kate reddy's in that movie. my family of three is in the process of moving house and its mechanism is a mind-bending undertaking. there are tons of issues to consider, which means dipping into a non-existent pile of coins under the bed.

 hope we can still eat.

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.

on the 10th

so manny pacquiao lost in a split decision, his first defeat in seven years. since it was shown (or streamed) in such ungodly hour, UK time, it was a relief  i was asleep. i wonder if Bing was there in the ring (rhymes) during the introductions. enough of politicians and some Filipino slebs out there in Vegas, all smiles for the cameras at the after party, ready to display their clout, the i've been to Vegas i must be rich and important brigade ( i should really stop glancing at the society pages).

being a boxer is of course only one of pacman's many roles. he's a tv star and he serves his people as a congressman of saranggani. undertakings which are by-products of his being a boxer. he's got an entourage. i always wonder about men and their entourage or boys and their barkadas. as if their lives would be incomplete without their alalays. manny's rep is probably still intact, i saw some unofficial media score cards where he was ahead in almost all 12 rounds. there could be a rematch or he could just retire and conduct his daily prayer meetings in earnest.

 one-on-one sports (including chess and darts) are 50-50 propositions. an upset is part of the grand plan. but the pacquiao saga is also part of twitter race relations. i read (was it in March or April?) from Tyrone's (a mayweather fan) tweet that pacman has no defense and he's a so-so boxer. i don't want to bring stereotypes or how fast a person walks into the argument. but it's obviously there and we compete through our flags, national anthems, continents and shapes of our eyes.

as if

it's such a shame that her detractors are signing for petition for her not to be considered as judge in the international court of justice. the term Brenda is back again. this usually happens when she doesn't go with the flow, when she chooses the unconventional route, when she's too eloquent, too knowledgeable. but at least, she's never been boring, not even during her stint in the commission of immigration. to answer joy's query in those heydays of whether to open the envelope in late 2000, are you still in awe? not really, but after a bevy of presidential campaigns in the 90's and winning and losing senate seats, and pissing off the quiet, non-cerebral throng, it has been a good career.

this is a refreshing take on the lady in this article.
what's your beauty regimen? "you gotta be kidding (laughs)?"
what is your preference when it comes to fashion? "i don't spend any time thinking about fashion."

this blog is also very positive.

discard

was trying to declutter last week and found a box full of old articles from almost ten years ago.  what am i doing keeping and hiding them under wraps and leaving to wither amid the mold and the ever-changing  room temperatures?  i hoard a lot of clippings, i just love to read stuff.  these files were accumulated during the years i didn't own a printer. quite ironic as the one we have now is not functioning, such a hassle when one has an essay to submit.  there are still a few boxes that are in dire need of  despoiling.  i had let go of Lebron James and Kobe Bryant articles, even Lee Young Pyo. and a GQ (was it Esquire?) cover of Kirsten Dunst.  i reckon, i may have also thrown away a Vogue cover of  Reese Witherspoon, it was a profile before she won an Oscar. i  wasn't too disappointed or cried a bucket of tears because of that, it's just a magazine.  i could chuck a few more periodicals in the bin, i just get distracted in taking a look back at the cool writings, that's all.

snacking on cheese

i'm not allowed sweets. or double-carbs e.g. rice and potato in one meal.  afritada with rice is a no-no.  but i had some of pie's cupcakes, with her innovative pacakaging and sumptuous falvours, who could resist?  i promise myself every single time i'm faced with sugary temptation, to vanquish my weakness, sometimes i'm strong enough to resist. there are moments, i forget my single carbs limit.  the dietitian recommends snacking on cheese.

the april weather is not helping.  it's too cold in the morning or it's raining.  when the hubby catches a cold, i get the sniffles a few days later and i become too weak and feverish, nose blocked, breathing through my mouth. that has been the norm during freezing winters, which is like the whole year round.  all i really want right now is to be back on my feet, facing people, walking a little bit faster, lowering my sugar levels, not my blood pressure.

better sigh

i want to type really quick for this blog. it's quite a difficult task really.  all i want to do is laxuriate in the world unto itself,  a relaxed, friendly, cool place where inappropriate comparisons and competitions are non-existent.  i just mostly want some energy.  i want to tidy up every nook and cranny, paint a wall, hoover and read more.

is it cold today?

 (photo courtesy of mr. taburada)

jan's egg tartlets reminded me of a friend of a friend, the one with the arrogance and bravado contained in a tiny package.  her words and behavior stung in '06 and they continue to manifest over the years every time i see her or her name is mentioned in random conversations.  then there's ryan's former colleague (they had a photo taken together as recently as a little bit more than 18 months ago), whose bitchiness is a story unto itself.  it's better for the soul to just sprinkle their goodness with frozen shoulders or avoid their presence at all costs.  if not possible, acknowledge their voices only when it's absolutely necessary.

back to jan's tartlets, they're great.  the lady is quite skillful with the whisk (or did she use one? i have no idea about baking).  i would have photographed them but i broke one into two as soon as i got home and ruined the pair's essence.  it would be neat to learn how to make cupcakes.  type2 diabetes runs in my blood but it's the earnest consumption of rice and instant noodles that would impair my insulin production.

anyway, it's good friday today.  we should all be kind.  is kindness becoming rare these days?  hopefully not.

double carbs

any realisations in the first few months of the year all boil down to enlightenment. but just like one's basher on twitter, i've learned to click block and ignore. i've regained a little bit of my strength, not a lot, although enough for a cat fight and i'm not fond of cats.

my favourite people remain congenial. they seldom text. i'm the one that utilises the message machine. i don't mind these days. it's still spring, almost summer, brightens up the mood.

meanwhile, as i overthink

and lie in bed to quell the apparent queasiness, i struggle with bedsores, almost chest infection and the likes, then a feeling of inadequacy surfaces. this sense of underachievement never leaves us, it's always lurking behind the curtains. this essence of self being crushed by pity invites and fair weather friends should never affect our confidence. some people are just jerks, period.

with that notion, not in view of my Facebook news reels, is actually a good thing. not to take anything away from mark zuckerberg's invention, familiarity really breeds a lot of contempt. it's all about the pictures. blogs, with more than 240 characters, is nothing but a farfetched idea.

what's the point of reading?

blazing on empty

i've hardly scribbled anything this month. it's December in a few hours. my mood is neither upbeat nor gloomy, maybe somewhere in between the two or whatever the shrieks and whispers in the horizons.

i'm clearly affected by the seasonal affective disorder. it's sad, sad, sad? i'm mostly weak in the flesh, i'd rather indulge in the comforts of pillows and sheets. i've recorded a lot of stuff on the telly but i can't bear to watch them. i don't have the time. i crave for a good conversation.

return to the fold

after a year of hiatus, my highly-articulate friend is back to her blogging digs. she's still the same, joy, relatable, a keen observer of people and pop culture. hope she continues to write and write.