Monday, May 29, 2006

Quirkyalone!

For all you mothafuckas that keep bugging me about being single and asking if I date as if its the only thing in the world you can think of (I have a life. There are other things you can ask. I am happy to be single, get over it.), here's one for you. I am not answering anymore dating questions. I am not bitter, I just don't get why everyone has to insist/imply that you have to be in a relationship to be happy. I also don't see why it is the only question anyone ever asks me right after "How are you na?" Followed by, "Why? How come you don't have a boyfriend?" (like its a crime) or "Ooows talaga, baka you're just hiding something."

KISS MY ASS.

Next time, read this before you ask. Click on the picture, and read, for once.

Read This First Posted by Picasa

Sunday, May 28, 2006

A Photo Essay

Today I went to file my application for another IELTS test (to prove that I can speak english). It did not occur to me, though it should have, that I would need passport pictures so I rushed out to get some done after grabbing the application form. I had no idea that my hair wasn't fixed - I had brushed _and_ fixed my hair that morning, which is more than usual - so the resulting picture made me laugh. As a result upon reaching home I decided to take a look at all my passport/visa pictures, and post them here so you can join in me the hilarity that is the evolution of me in photos. Enjoy! Bwahahahahahaha!

This is me at the age of 18. This is the passport that has been to the most countries. I think I look nicely native in this picture.  Posted by Picasa

Back in the day when I still looked like a boy, I have no idea why my hair (on the left side) looked this way. All Philippine passport photos require a blazer/coat and so there I am, this prep school boy getting a visa. Ha ha ha. Posted by Picasa

This was my last passport and possibly one of the few pictures I have of scary anorexic me. This is what happens when you have an eating disorder, weigh about 90 pounds (or less) and think you're still fat. I was 22. Think of this as a cautionary picture. Even if I could fit in size 24 jeans, I'm glad I don't look this way or weigh this much anymore.  Posted by Picasa

My latest passport picture. I decided to put my hair out so peole could tell what I looked like if my hair was up or down. I was told not to smile too much. It looks like I belong in a Rizal novel.  Posted by Picasa

This is what prompted this whole photo essay of embarrassing pictures. I had no idea my hair was so harrassed in that picture. I look so...lost and frantic, and I assure you I am not. Hilarious! Posted by Picasa

Hello Brangelina!

I have been waiting for Angelina Jolie to give birth for ages. It started out as a joke, to sort of mockery of the celebrity obssessed world (including myself) but suddenly, after the Cruise baby was born I began to actually take it seriously. So the past few days rumors have been abounding as to whether or not she was in labor, etc. Personally, I was thinking she wasn't due until June, I suppose she was just early.

Today, ironically after checking my daily gossip sheets, (the day she was rumored to give birth last week I checked obssessively almost on the hour, before saying to my cousin, "see, see! it was all bullshit. i knew it! she isn't due yet!") I went out with my housemates to have dessert, only to get a text from my cousin maybe 20 minutes later, "Brangelina gave birth to a baby girl!".

I went on with my evening (I'm not _that_ obssessed!). And upon returning home googled the meaning of the baby's name, which incidentally is Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt. Shiloh, aside from being the dog in the Newberry Award Winning Classic (which I knew) and the site of an American Civil War Battle in Tennessee (which I didn't know) means "Place of Peace" in the Bible (I'm presuming Hebrew but could be wrong, the Bible wasn't all written in Hebrew, as far as I know). Its a place where the Israelites took refuge. Have asked Sacha to ask her boyfriend, Shai, who is Jewish from Israel.

Nouvel, on the other hand, turned out to be the last name of a famous french architect and as Brad is said to have an interest in architecture this was the explanation that made the most sense. I could, obviously, be wrong about this too as information made to the public - other than the child's name (as in not even poundage) - has not really been released.

Shiloh, joins the list of funkily named kids who have been born lately: Suri, Grier, Kingston James, Moses and my personal(wtf) favorite, Bluebell Madonna. Don't think I'll ever get over the origin of that one. Kingston and Moses I think are tied for "the most normal sounding" names of the bunch, though this is not to say that I don't like the other ones, I actually think Suri is nice and Grier, possibly after the feminist is pretty cool. Bluebell Madonna, is a different story altogether. I have of ourse, no right to criticize the choice of the particular parents who have chosen these names, and so I will say nothing further about that one.

And I cannot, cannot believe I obssessed about 'the most beautiful baby on earth' so muuuuuuch. I hope that the child does not grow up to be traumatized for any reason and does not develop a big head or insecurities from that press created monicker. I hope that it (oops, she) grows up to be happy, healthy, well rounded and free from public pressure to be beautiful, well aware that she can be who she wants to be... (with parents like that, it looks like they'll make sure that she knows) also, I hope that she doesn't get called SHee-Loh like Shee-Ra or Shee-loh Beeelo or Shee Shee or whatever else she would be if she lived in the Philippines.

Also: Apple is not a weird name. I knew an Apple, Orange, Peaches, and more than one person with those names. I am from the Philippines, where somewhere, some way, I am sure a child will be born that _will_ actually (possibly) be named Brangelina.

Sunday, May 21, 2006

Lessons from my Childhood

Last night, as my super creative and crafty housemate was helping me make Bucephalus, the cardboard cut out horse for my law presentation (yes, I know, I'll explain later), we started talking about the stuff we learnt as kids. Her mom teaches 4 year olds in the IS in Jakarta and she was telling us how they always had to take the glue away from the kids because they always used too much glue. This was after I overlined the end of Bucephalus' mane and squished it onto his head. I was telling her how we had sewing and ballroom dancing as children in school.

In primary school we had to learn how to embroider because, I presume we were little girls and still not old enough to use sewing machines unattended. I remember the style of teaching in my old school as fairly critical and very authoritarian (and no, for my old chums, it wasn't just Miss Manila). I think the style of teaching is very different now, I remember I quite used to get reprimanded for doing things wrong, when now everyone is a lot more encouraging and focused on positive reinforcement vs negative. I do remember a lot of our primary school teachers were kind of masungit (cranky? Pia, you write copy! what's this in english?).

I remember in 4th grade we had to make bags out of basketweave, the ever infamous material and exhibit our sewing prowess by sewing different rows of embroidery stitches on the front and then sew a peace themed design on the back. The first row was running stitch, then backstitch, etc. This is quite possibly the only subject my best friend Jenny has ever done badly in, because she never finished her bag as she just wouldn't do it. Now she's like, completely an expert at all mommy-related things, simply because she's creative (not that she has any kids). I on the other hand, totally cheated all the way. My mother realised that I couldn't sew, and so the women in my household - then my yaya, my lola and my cousin Loudette - took it upon themselves to help me finish my project. I think sewing is the only thing they ever really took over. Everything else I pretty much did on my own, with minimal assistance.

The thing to do in fourth grade was to use funky colored thread. I had been given this aqua blue thread by a friend, I remember this distinctly, as I think it was the same friend who got me, the Barbie hating one, to play Barbies with her. It was the funky kind that started out in bright aqua then along the line it faded to white, like those tie-dyed shirts. I ran out of thread in the middle of the line where we were supposed to demonstrate our mastery of the "Cross Stitch" and then completely forgot and submitted the whole bag with a bunch of crosses not Xed.

In my freshman year in high school we had to make a jumper in sewing class, with real machines. I absolutely refused, as it was this flowered thing that you cut out, measuring your own shape and sewed together. Like it would ever really be worn. I think I just passed sewing class, and the jumpers got put to good use in Music class - when each group had to reenact a musical and my group did the Sound of Music. As I was the boy (again) I got to wear shorts and fake leiderhosen (i think someone lent me suspenders. or at the very least they were shorts with a long sleeved top and a blazer) and there was no need for me to ever complete that jumper.

Now reminscing aside, it occured to me as I was using too much glue that the reason why I thought I couldn't sew and do all these things was simply because I was told I couldn't do it. As a child, I think in my household, it was automatically assumed that if I couldn't do something, it was either done for me, or I was told I couldn't do it. I have since discovered that barring a few things (like coloring within the lines 100% of the time) I can do anything I set my mind to. Which is why technically if I choose to sew, I can sew and if I chose to crochet, I could crochet (my beloved lola did all that for me...), and possibly if wool didn't make me sneeze I could knit. Seriously, people can do anything they set their minds to, barring any health or other people related reasons (i.e. if you needed another person to help you accomplish whatever and that person refused, like lets say someone had to, i don't know, lend you their priceless picasso for an exhibit or something).

I with that I had known this when I was five. Or fifteen. Or even when I was twenty. I could have done so much more. But I guess it was different when we were growing up- the style of parenting (maybe it was just my house) and teaching was more authoritarian, and maybe I was just too afraid. I think over the years I have grown braver - or possibly taught myself to be more brave- and that coming here opened up a new world for me. That and a few seminars I have taken over the years have encouraged me to try everything, within reason. I know that there are some things I'll never do - like you're never going to get me to see a horror movie and I will never ever in my life ride any theme park rides that go up and down, also I don't think I'll ever crochet, its too boring - but I do believe there's a lot more things that I can do. I may not end up being a master at them, like I can swim but you know, I suck, but at least I can say that I've done them, that I've tried, and maybe I'll even keep trying, if its something I like.

This, in a scary way, combined with that musical I saw last weekend, called Babies - which was about what babies think and feel from 0-2 weeks, acted out by an amateur teenage production - kind of shows how much influence parents and other authority figures have on our lives as we are growing up. I mean, I don't blame anyone but myself for my lack of will to try when I was a kid, but really, there's a lot that people do that they don't know have affected others. In the musical the "babies" sing a song called "Blank piece of paper" as soon as they are born, and they talk about how when they are born there's literally nothing there, and there's a line of five babies, and five different kinds of parents singing (e.g. hippies, yuppies, country folk, etc.) and they each give the kid a gift, like a stuffed animal or a football and its like, from being "blank" that's the first thing they get and it starts from there. And I thought it was really scary how parents really just can mold a child without really even trying or knowing what they're doing, and how much influence exists. Thank God I don't have to think about this again until I decide I want to be a parent and actually go about producing one. (Which won't be for a while...)The musical was very enjoyable though, it was fun and funny and although the sound system was kind of crap - sometimes you couldn't hear them and we were in the third row - it was pretty good for an amateur production. I also got free tickets from work.

Bucephalus is done. He is part of our role play for our group presentation in law class. He was made from brown and black cartolina, which in this country cost me about 7 dollars. We are reinacting a case, where Bucephalus was bought by Margaret who needed him for a horse breeding business. Bob, the seller's representative told her that he was fit for breeding and that "he has sired 5 champions". (I have read this case so much I have memorized the lines) She then signed the contract even though the terms in it said nothing about breeding. They also struck a seperate deal where she said, "i'll give you an extra 1,000 if you can guarantee he has no bad habits or vices". Margaret got the horse and found out that he was sterile and that he bit people. We are supposed to give her legal advice in the form of our presentation.

And that's why last night my housemate drew me a horse and we cut it out and used lotsa glue :)

Friday, May 19, 2006

What the fuck is up with all this Da Vinci Code crap?

I just got home only to find waiting for me, email, which I'm sure was a forward, from a nice, well meaning (Opus Dei) friend who is a part of my college mailing list. Its a statement about the Da Vinci Code. I thought that being across the ocean I would not be subject to all the unecessary hullaballoo at home but no. I get mail that says "watching the Da Vinci Code will hurt Jesus."

Excuse me, but how do you know that?

Its all just bullshit. I mean, its a movie. By saying that its something else means you allow for it to affect you and you are in a way saying that it has some truth. If you just released a statement that says, we think its false and did nothing else or ignored the whole thing altogether, it wouldn't generate so much publicity (and you gotta admire that really well done PR) that people would be encouraged to see it. Doesn't anyone remember how the best way to tempt someone to do things is to forbid them to do it?!?!

People should have the right to make their own judgements about A WORK OF FICTION.
I should at this point say that although I know the story, I have not read the book. I made a decision not to read it because I felt it was overhyped and having read Angels and Demons I felt that was enough religious symbiology. I also thought at first that I would just watch the movie. I have since decided not to see it - although this whole thing has made me pissed off enough to want to watch it just to prove freedom of choice - initially because I'm not really keen on Tom Hanks and now because I just don't want to be a part of the fuss.

I wanted to reply and say I think this is a big fuss over nothing and its just a movie but I would probably with my usual directness hurt her forwarded feelings and she's really a nice girl.

And do we not have better things to fuss over, like the state of our country, the politics, the fact that in this scenario there appears to be a difficulty in separating church and state and you know, there's the ever prevalent problem of poverty?!?

Sigh. Must our country always have to find a source of drama? And why is everyone making a fuss? I'm now making a fuss over everyone making a fuss because I just don't get what the point is.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

May

Again, in Summary :)

May 05
Para Bailar La Bamba


Today I've made chorizo and red wine sauce with pasta for lunch. I don't really like red wine sauce but its the jar that Sacha bought so there you go. I added real red wine and mushrooms and lots of cheese. I usually like my red wine sauce on steaks, not pasta. I'm bringing the rest of it to work because well, again, I don't really like red wine sauce.

Since they've cancelled work tomorrow I'm just going to go to kickboxing and then meet up with Rose, who I haven't seen in ages. Then go home and do homework, and spend my Saturday evening researching my next brief.

Last night's brazilian party was unbelievably boring. There was a crush of people, mostly older and they were all having fun, but it was like, not our thing. There was an intro to latin dancing downstairs and I enjoyed learning how to mambo. When we started, Sacha and I had to be partners because there weren't enough boys. And then they went, okay switch partners clockwise (bec no one really knew each other). I ended up with this vietnamese/chinese dude who was pretty good but wouldn't look me in the eye. Sacha ended up with a guy who said, "You've never done this before, have you? I think I'll sit this one out" and promptly moved to another partner!!! When it came time to switch I had her dance with my partner.

We left the brazilian party and then moved to The Establishment, Sydney's premiere meat market. I suppose I'm a bit too picky, there really wasn't anyone I liked. Sacha of course, by then had been hit on once, and when we got to Establishment she got hit on twice I think. Everytime Sacha gets picked up I slip away because well, that's their thing. She got hit on by this nice looking black dude on the dance floor, and I just went and danced on my own, near this group of white aussie chicks who couldn't dance for shit, it was so weird I couldn't tell if they were just having fun by dancing funny or they really couldn't dance (what's up with aussies and they're yeah, if i move like this and shake and flail my arms about this is dancing! I would love to generalise and say white people can't dance, but I think Sacha can, so...) Then he asked Sacha out and she said she was seeing someone and he just turned around and walked away! I thought, okay, fair enough, you don't have to waste your time but really, you could have at least said goodbye.

Derek, Sacha's friend from physics who we've both known for quite a while came over to join us. We promised to be his "wing women" i.e. help him pick up the chicks while he would be our (or rather mine, unless Sacha found a really cute one) wingman. From Establishment we went to The Orient, which was full of old people and then to Cargo Bar, which was totally dead, for a Thursday night and then I got hungry so we walked down King St Wharf (Darling Harbor) and found La Cita.

La Cita was a salsa place and it was great. I had beef empanadas, which were great too! We had a drink each and then we started dancing. Derek had taken salsa lessons before so he was trying to teach me. After some time bobbing around I realised that this was quite possibly the first time I had ever danced with a partner and not had to lead!!!

In high school we had to take ballroom dancing. And one of us had to be the boy. And since I looked like a boy anyway, I was the boy. I was always the boy (even in class plays). My partner was darth_stitch. Our best dances were the waltz - we could box step quite well, thank you - and the cha-cha. We could boogie okay but we were absolutely horrible with the tango.

In the first place I don't think we were taught right. I think we were taught to tango ballroom dancing style - the kind your lola does - and not the real argentinian version. Also, darth_stitch had a back problem (?) possibly and couldn't really bend backwards. Actually, no one in the class could bend backwards. So everytime we had to make a dip, darth_stitch (and every other girl in the class) would just bend her neck backwards and look up at the sky, while I would bend forward and bend my knee. We were pathetic but hilarious.

Our final presentation was done to the theme of "That's Entertainment" because we couldn't be bothered to practice and actually do anything. cheese dip was german moreno. and she ripped her pants right after her first introduction and had to borrow my spare pair! All of us "boys" especially me and Naj, who looked equally as much of a boy as I did, looked like we were from La Salle GH, one of the boys schools. Black pants, white shirt.

And so I learnt how to lead, and still have to fight a bit when I start dancing (especially the swing) because as my previous partners have said, "You have to stop leading because I'm the boy."

Roooight.


May 7
Your mission, should you choose to accept it.


So Miel and I saw Mission Impossible 3 which was great. I have been action movie starved for ages and ages. It has been such a long time since I've seen a movie where things have been blown up, the plot is slightly if not completely implausible and they have all these cool gadgets. I was perfectly happy with this movie. Tom was tom, and he was the same cool almost unflappable kick ass dude and that was completely believable and not annoying. Phillip Seymour Hoffman, who perhaps because of his general stature sometimes makes me mix him up with Jack Black was excellent, as always and the rest of the supporting cast was great. Keri Russell was in that movie for five minutes.

Miel and I went to the movie with Claudia who is quite the noisiest person to see a movie with. Miel and I are usually very talkative as well, but we speak in hushed tones and I've realised that because its fast paced and you don't always have the time to comment I don't usually do that for action movies. Claudia was kinda loud and excited and she kept trying to guess what was going to happen and although I thought her comments were funny there were some times when I wanted to say, hinay hinay, Claudia like I was calming down a rearing horse. It was kinda llike that. (Miel, i know you're going to read this, I like Claudia, but you know, it was funny.)

My housemate Kartini is moving out (don't know if I've mentioned this before) to a castle, which is actually a big house in Annandale (next to Leichhardt where I used to live) with a friend. The rent is really cheap, like a hundred bucks and its a converted ballroom that's been split up to several rooms. Her friend's family is a bit eccentric, his parents live in one wing, and he lives in the other and they've got all this stuff stored in different rooms, like a whole room full of piano music (the kind that plays automatically on those old pianos) and an old elevator sitting in the garden. His father apparently refuses to throw everything out, so they're just basically waiting for him to die (he's in his 70s) to throw everything out. Its got a nice view of the city and the river and since Kartini's hardly ever home, its not such a big deal for her that the place doesn't have internet and all the other stuff. She's leaving most of her furtniture as all she needs is bedroom stuff.

We've all pretty much gotten along well so it will be sad for her to go but its okay, and its not as if we're not going to see each other again. Also I am going to move into her room when she leaves, which will be a pain in the ass to get my stuff together (will have to dismantle wardrobe and possibly bed as well) but what the heck, its bigger and quieter.

May 7
Winter is coming


I have been in denial of winter for well, ages. I wear long sleeved shirts, thick jackets and thongs . Yesterday when I was late for work (and no one noticed) I ran out of the house in thongs and it was just so wrong. The wind started on sunday and it hasn't really stopped since. This morning was the coldest in Sydney so far, at 9 degrees. (Thank God I slept through it in the warmth of my doona) Last night my housemate from Indonesia brought up her giant heater and put it on. I assembled my heater at midnight (naks, parang may magical properties from doing that) and tested it for a bit but I slept without it on.

I've become more acclimatised to the weather, I don't get as cold as often, I've decided the more I can stand the cold the easier for me it will be to get warm - less layers and the less electric heating needed.

So today, hearbreaking as it is, I am packing up my summer clothes. Last Sunday I aired out all my coats, washed all my scarves and beanies and now I'm ready for winter. As much as I appreciate a cool day every now and then, I miss my singlets and my thongs, and my gnarly feet (which are so gnarly they are not funny). As I write this I am wearing a light sweater (the one I got in Switzerland 9 years ago and shrunk in someone's dryer in Texas) knee length pjs and knee length uggs. I also own fuzzy light purple slippers that say "thrill" and "me" (the alternatives were "yes" and "no" in fuschia and "its all about me" in green) for days when i don't quite need the uggs.

I've arranged to keep my socks in the little box with the singlets so I will always remember they are there and I can use them appropriately for layering. I also intend to buy a shoe rack so I can just put all my shoes on it, as the mess is getting slightly annoying. I also own more thongs/slippers than any other pair of shoes, but that's not such a big surprise.

At present
I went to salsa lessons this week, and it was fun. Will go back as soon as I am able - this week I had to work on stuff and next week have got the Sydney Writer's Festival. So far people I have been dancing with have been telling me I'm pretty natural at it so its a bit surprising to actually find out that you're good at something naturally - I've always kind of hoped there would be something, you know how people naturally excel at swimming or basketball or what not. I had sort of reached a point where I was thinking, what if you aren't naturally good at something, so this is surprising but good to say the least.

The other day I had chocolate - tea doesn't quite cut it - at the Lindt Cafe with Kat. We had a cake and a dark chocolate each. Despite my attempts to have chocolate not as frequently as before - now 3-4 times a week which is better than everyday - my stomach has thrown a fit. So no more choccy for a while again. Must get used to not having it often.

My friend Nic is visiting from Brissie and another friend, Andrea, my former housemate is visiting from Melb. Andrea is staying with us, Nic is staying at her family's house in Woolhara.

Today Andrea and I went to see The Crying Men which is basically a showcase of Sam Taylor-Wood, a photographer's works. She took shots of 27 male artistas crying. Of course I could identify 90% :P (there was a dude I didn't know and a couple who you couldn't tell because they had their hands on their faces) My favorites were Hayden, of course, Jude, Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Robert Downey Jr. Lawrence Fishbourne had a very striking picture as well. There was also this video that was commissioned by the National Gallery of London that featured David Beckham sleeping. It was supposed to be a "sensual portrait of an icon in repose" or something like that but he just looked so bloody restless. He was sleeping on his side, on an arm and I thought, but your arm will die and you will get cramps. Also, would you be fully accessorized if you were sleeping?

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I am going to boxing now and then I have to do my law. I will update from the Writer's Festival very soon :)