home on Christmas morning
right after Midnight Mass
cheers!
the feast, well some of it, hehe
cozying up to the bedecked tree 
Contradiction December 20, 2008
After having finished reading Eclipse, the third book in the much-hyped over Twilight saga, I am going to contradict myself. I am no longer a fan of Edward Cullen. My affection is dedicated to Jacob Black, the teenage werewolf who is not afraid to love Bella, even when he knows she is more in love with someone else.
I think in fact that if Edward Cullen were to be matched up against the more sinewy, passionate, and level-headed Jacob Black, this lullaby lovin’ vampire will fade into the background like a pale-skinned fairy. And after reading three novels worth of Edward and Bella’s interminable declarations of immortal love to one another, I am finally feeling constipated. Twilight is excusable, seeing that this book is where the budding romance of two star-crossed lovers are first chronicled for the entire saga. But when this mawkishness is still palpable in the succeeding books, what you get is an overrated sentimentality that is more trite than touching.
I’m still a giggly high school girl at heart, but there is simply nothing real about a couple who are perpetually holding hands and whispering schmaltzy sweet-nothings to one another, ALL THE TIME.
With Chris Weitz at the directorial helm for New Moon- the book in the saga where Jacob Black and the rest of the werewolves first make an appearance, and steal the bigger scene from the nauseous Bella-Edward affair- I can hardly wait for the movie next year. Please, Mr. Weitz, you ought to do better than Hardwicke, just this one time.
An Attempt At Nerudan Poetry December 16, 2008
~
I Have Watched You Ever So Silently
~~~
I have watched you ever so silently,
watched you with eyes still weary with slumber
and eyes alive with the wakefulness of day.
I have watched you ever so silently
over coffee, easy laughter,
and the warmth of the noonday sun.
And in the solitude of cold mornings when,
your breathing and mine are one.
I have watched you unseen, concealed in myself,
and have seen even more
than a thousand mirrors could confer.
Like when you read something, soundlessly;
your lips moving in unison with your thoughts,
Your eyes barely leaving the pages they have touched,
except perhaps to gaze at me yet again;
sleeping, dreaming, in my little pretense.
Sometimes your energy is soft like twilight,
and often unbreakable, like lightning
on a storm-weathered night.
Your hands are earth-colored and strong,
yet they keep a supple beauty
as when you shape your dreams
into diamonds with fire.
In spite of their strength, as your hands bear weight,
Patiently, neatly still, they fit into mine —
soft and liquid as velvet, ever so light.
I have watched you, and in clandestine silence I thrive,
For to see you in any other way
than this would leave words floating,
and would have me search for them
in my frailty; lost and wanting.
And so I watch you ever so carefully, silently;
a space for each ephemeral time.
To partake of that coveted sweetness
in your laughter-dimpled eyes, until—
After much wandering, they rest, like two doves
Finally, piercingly, unto mine.
~~~
-01/04/06-
Shopaholic Santa December 14, 2008
My feet are killing me. I have just spent an entire Sunday scouring the malls for Christmas gifts. And the tragic thing is, I’m not even done yet! I have found stuffs for the picky brother, three friends, and five god-children, but I still have to pick something for Mom and for sister dear, for the boyfriend, and for most of my hilarious friends.
Plus, I’m still debating whether to bake cupcakes or cookies to fill my Christmas take-home pouches with. Perhaps I should try Nigella’s Chocolate Pistachio Fudge. Hhmmmm. Now, where is that recipe?
Then there is the pasta and dessert I need to prepare for the dinner on Christmas Eve, which is actually Plan A. Plan B is opting for catered food, arranging them on a Christmas-y plate, and snoring the entire time before dinner. Haha, fat chance.
I’m giving myself a shopping deadline by next weekend, which is only three days away from Christmas Eve. Oh, well. Remind me to chug down a few bottles of energy drink, so I’ll breeze by the actual holidays looking all calm, poised, and unruffled.
Click on the Link! December 11, 2008
Bag Shopping Fashion Tips for Every Working Girl
~~
With the right kind of bag, any working girl is sure to look both smart and fashionable. This article offers helpful tips in finding the right bags for the right occasions, whether for office conferences or for parties.
~~
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1265442/bag_shopping_fashion_tips_for_every.html
Trapped. Squeezed. Swallowed. December 10, 2008
The workplace, no doubt, is an interesting set for people watching. People spend more than eight hours every working day inside freezing, dull-colored buildings: facing computers, flipping over countless papers, mollifying clients, chewing at ball pen caps, sipping instant coffee, and spending the rest of the time wishing they were somewhere else.
You see them in stiff blazers and glossy neckties, scurrying around, pretending they were actually busy with something. The fact that they are pretending to be busy somehow gives them the assurance that they are doing something worthwhile with their routine lives.
And maybe they really do have hectic days, no argument with that, but at the end of it, they would begin to wonder even if for just one split second, if the careers they had chosen have put them where they had always wanted to be, if perchance the endless tapping on keyboards, and the ingestion of brainless policies define who they are.
Then you see the arthritic supervisors, those fifty-something superiors who stay rooted to their posts merely because of the beautiful thing called “security of tenure”, which most government-funded agencies take to heart quite liberally, and so they retain their plush swivel chairs, the soft back cushions, the huge tables that hold nothing but family picture frames, plastic flowers, and useless what-nots.
The females paint their faces to obscure wrinkle lines, perm and color their hair in a vain effort to regain its fading luster, and embellish themselves with heavy glittering accessories – gold, shiny jades and rubies, oversized pearls in hundreds of colors- merely to remind everyone that these jewels are their trophies for toiling inside freezing, dull-colored buildings in a span of long decades. The males have protruding bellies, brassy voices, sly gazes, and huge groping hands, and if you’re careless, they might read too much between your quick glances and contrived laughter.
These middle-aged folks can operate machines and shut down computers, but they only do so because these are the callings of the times. Most hours they just shift through papers absentmindedly, verify the checks, and tinker with their high-end cell phones, wondering whether the husband is not with some mistress, or the if the wife is not flirting with the boss. And the worst of their kind never grow up at all. At their age, they still gossip like thoughtless adolescents, feign friendships even while kissing each other’s cheeks, and nurture their prejudices like confused toddlers. The workplace compels them to fake smiles and small talk, to craft compliments and throw them to the air whenever the need arises.
They give out orders like automatons, get panic attacks at the slightest blunders, seek perfection where there is none, and all the while not fully understanding the gamut of their jobs. The madames come to the office because they need to, because they have huge credit card debts to pay off, and new car accessories to purchase, and not necessarily because their perfume-laden presences are still needed.
The workplace is their, home, a stretch of land subdivided into their own little countries where they rule as royalties. And beneath them, their minions toil on their mindless employments – tap away at computers, flip over papers, mollify clients, chew at ball pen caps, sip instant coffee and wish they were somewhere else.
Well, the simple-minded ones are happy where they are, content with everyday work because there are mouths to feed, and because unfortunately, they know nothing better. They have spouses to come home to, and children to tell stories to, so what is the point of yearning for a better profession? Their thoughts are flying in all directions as they work at their tables, wishing they were home because if truth be told, there is nothing like home in a pretentious, dull-colored building.
Millions of hearts are trapped in places they cannot love, but only be immune to. They have grown gnarly and old, and they cannot fuel their souls to dream of something else. They just sit and watch, at the budding ones in stiff blazers and glossy neckties, lip gloss and stilettos, wanting to tell them to go and follow their heart songs. Wanting to tell them that yes, the workplace is interesting.
But the wide open skies are breathtaking.
From a Papa’s Girl December 8, 2008
Dad
~
You closed your eyes one April
and left me balancing
on tightropes of fear,
solitude and blindness.
I fought the blindness, but
the fear and solitude I could not.
You closed your eyes one April
in a room of bare ashen walls.
My eyes blurred the moving sketches
of people garbed in white,
as they pulled out tubes and needles
from your tired, yellow-gray flesh.
I walked towards your bed only when
I could no longer bear the stillness
brought by the soft sounds
of retreating footsteps
and the pungent smell of disinfectants.
I walked towards you only when
there were mere spaces between us.
I swallowed my pain and silently called you a cheat.
You were a liar.
You never told me you were leaving.
~~~
published, Home Life Magazine, April 2005
Interesting December 2, 2008
I came across a blog site of serious writers recently, and I just couldn’t resist linking to this article on the entire Twilight hullabaloo. If the high school girl in me had not developed a huge crush on Edward Cullen, I will perhaps be more inclined to think in the same way. On the other hand, I still think Meyer deserves a bit of credit to her work, primarily for targeting her audience effectively.
Anyway, click here to read the article.
