(-5 days)
Things I learned as a 40-yr old running around NYC:
-always watch the road even when you're just a passenger
-Yoda, in the form of alien or uncle is equally as heart-warming, adorable and calming
-if you're very hungry, don't go to a restaurant that takes 1 hour to sit you
-don't eat before going to a big dinner (having a Serendipity Forbidden Broadway Sundae is the worst thing to do prior)
-don't mess with an old gay waiter unless you are prepared to spar back (and I was) ;)
-walking through Bloomie's is still an exhilarating experience (and you don't need to necessarily buy anything)
-the perfect cake is second only to the friends that orchestrated it
-in the face of things beyond your control, one must just sit back and let things be. Impending wrinkles are just not worth it.
-sugar, carbs, fatty meat, dairy, chocolate and alcohol in one weekend may not be the best diet, but if contained to a bday wkend, can be fantastic for your soul
-an old friend is truly a friend when she drives 2 hours to see you for a 2.5 hour dinner
-people who RSVP and actually show up, are not only polite but people who are worth inviting in the first place
-real "good" food is necessary to live and enjoy life (and this does not mean you have to eat expensively)
-there is a poignant moment in which old acquaintances, turn into actual "friends"
-there is no "perfect" party unless you make it so in your head
-EATALY, NYC is heaven
-it's hard to keep a straight face even as you grow old when you have a friend named "Young", reminding you of "Casual Fridays"
-there are more opportunities for magic moments with strangers in NYC because we travel on foot
-trying as many cheeses and prosciutto di parmas as you can, is a fantastic way of spending Saturday night
-be willing to abort a plan that clearly does not work. (Planning things is very good, but at some point, you gotta go with the flow.)
-make reservations if you know you must
-looking the part helps a great deal
-I am quite eccentric and I actually love it
-within the noise of NY, one can think rather quietly and deeply
-"home" is where my heart (and the bagel with tofu cheese and the pizza) is
-it's not ever, ever about the amount of the gifts, but rather the effort and thought behind them
-true happiness comes from a sense of meaning, purpose and contribution
-my 40th is special to people who truly matter
-walking and people-watching are still my #1 past times
-window-shopping is a good shrink
-meeting a friend's shiny new BF, and giving the thumbs up is a privilege I'd like to keep
-tearing up while retelling a Linda Hamilton incident and seeing another friend's eyes also well up is priceless
-3 kick ass girls + one hot chef in a white shirt + a fried quail = an ab workout from too much fun
-whether you're 20s, 30s, 40s or 60 plus, laughing so hard you're squirting tears, will never ever get old
-in fact, unsuppressed giggles take 20+ years off your age
-water in NY is best for pizza, bagels and a girl's hair
-NYers are a charming lot (this, I knew from way back when)
-I am more interested in Magnolia cupcakes and Junior's Cheesecake than Mario Lopez
-certain things only happen in NY
-certain things only happen when a Euro trash old man sports a high-waisted-poly-white-jogging pant, with a winter coat tucked in. And a comb-over to match.
-all does not have to be perfect at 40, but one must be willing to embark on a journey of self-awareness...in fact, if it were all perfect already, then what are you to do for another 45+ years???
-40 is the new coming of age
-to discover things, you must stay "in the moment" (as I read in an article in-flight back to LA, Deepak says "You dont have to know a whole lot about philosophy, just remember the following 3 things:
1-Remember the most impt. time in your life is now.
2-The most impt. person in your life is the one you're with now.
3-The most impt way to create the future is to act with awareness now.
All you need to remember."
-Rei and Isabel complete me. Along with all my dear wingwomen (you should know who you are), close friends and family in ALL coasts and continents.
-being picked up at LAX with a smile and a hug will always relieve the emotional trauma of a long journey past...and yet to come
-my 40th feels like my best year yet
Onward and forward.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
7) Acceptance and Hope
(0 days left EST; 51 minutes remaining PST)
The clock has gone past midnight here in NYC.
After I showered, I looked at the mirror and applied my intensive moisturizer on my 39ish/40ish face. I inspect it thoroughly. It seems that all's the same.
I looked down at my toes and they are in tact. The same chubby digits that could either fit in a 6.5 to 7 wide shoes, or 7 to 8 if squeezing into narrow pumps. My arms appear to have the same white spec on the right forearm where I've had it since 34. Even my hair is still thirsting for the same hair gunk for me to command it.
Ok, I guess it was not as earth-shattering as I thought it would be. If not for the tremendous amounts of texts from Manila and NY, I wouldn't have realized it actually.
So off I go now to get some sleep as I party all day tomorrow and throughout the weekend. With the people I love. In the city I adore.
I will talk to you all when I am fully 4-0 in all time zones.
The clock has gone past midnight here in NYC.
After I showered, I looked at the mirror and applied my intensive moisturizer on my 39ish/40ish face. I inspect it thoroughly. It seems that all's the same.
I looked down at my toes and they are in tact. The same chubby digits that could either fit in a 6.5 to 7 wide shoes, or 7 to 8 if squeezing into narrow pumps. My arms appear to have the same white spec on the right forearm where I've had it since 34. Even my hair is still thirsting for the same hair gunk for me to command it.
Ok, I guess it was not as earth-shattering as I thought it would be. If not for the tremendous amounts of texts from Manila and NY, I wouldn't have realized it actually.
So off I go now to get some sleep as I party all day tomorrow and throughout the weekend. With the people I love. In the city I adore.
I will talk to you all when I am fully 4-0 in all time zones.
6) Reconstruction and Working Through
(1 day and a plane ride away)
In 45 minutes, I am leaving my apartment to head to LAX.
2 best friends joined forces and are shipping me home to NY to celebrate my birthday with them and the city I love.
New York is the city where the "real me" was born. My essence. While Manila will always be my first home, NY is where "Vanessa" woke up and came into her own. And so NY is my anchor. Along with my friends and family there.
The act of my friends wanting to be with me as I hit 40 is a point that tears me up every time I think about it. This is a crossroads for me, and I do need to hold their hands as I walk through it. They've taken me this far in life, through the process of ruin and reconstruction, ruin and reconstruction again. And so it's fitting that we welcome 40 together, with my beloved NYC as a backdrop.
In 45 minutes, I am leaving my apartment to head to LAX.
2 best friends joined forces and are shipping me home to NY to celebrate my birthday with them and the city I love.
New York is the city where the "real me" was born. My essence. While Manila will always be my first home, NY is where "Vanessa" woke up and came into her own. And so NY is my anchor. Along with my friends and family there.
The act of my friends wanting to be with me as I hit 40 is a point that tears me up every time I think about it. This is a crossroads for me, and I do need to hold their hands as I walk through it. They've taken me this far in life, through the process of ruin and reconstruction, ruin and reconstruction again. And so it's fitting that we welcome 40 together, with my beloved NYC as a backdrop.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
5) THE UPWARD TURN
(2 days remaining)
I have always known about the 7 stages of grief.
While I don't consciously keep track of every stage when in the midst of a predicament, I do believe that one must go though the motions in order to come out of a funk in the end.
The past year, I know I went through the first four, not in an organized order, but perhaps a series of back and forths in my daily life:
1) Shock and Denial (I still am)
2) Pain and Guilt
3) Anger and Bargaining
4) Depression, Reflection, Loneliness
http://www.recover-from-grief.com/7-stages-of-grief.html
A month ago, I came back from a much-delayed visit to my beloved home country, the Philippines. And as always, it was a much needed visit to feed the soul. Coming back, it seems like a whole part of me inside opened up.
Everyone will tell you that Filipinos are a grateful lot. We are the culture that waved and smiled at the cameras as a coup d' etat was unfolding in the mid-80s. We are a country where peddlers sport highlights on their hair, while holding cellphones. A country where shanty squatters have cables illegally snaking up and hooking up to a nearby house. Where Christmas decor adorn even a cardboard shelter.
People who hear these things might assume we are crazy. Absolutely. But faith could also be defined as "loony". And we are a happy and faithful nation. We strongly believe without seeing. We trust that God will take care of us no matter how dire things get, for as long as we also meet Him halfway.
I kept my trip pretty simple. I wasn't there to go nightclubbing, bar-hopping, or even island hopping like I used to. This was a trip designed to spend time with loved ones. And in doing so, in sitting still, I experienced the real women of "my" Manila. Women who have always been close to my heart, and yet I have ignored just how much of a role model they played in my life. They define for me what it means to be courageous at the face of adversity. While some (like my mom), might not always be graceful about it---and she would agree---they remain strong and continue to stand tall. What these women are going through, and have gone through are far beyond what we all consider to be "problems": not having time to go to the gym, the pain of endlessly looking for the next freelance gig, of not saving enough, losing lbs, chores, and the list goes on. These women put my worries and strength to shame. To them, I look up and pray for to the heavens:
To my Tita Eca (Auntie Eca), who at her mid-70s, still giggles and smiles knowing that she has lived a full life while going through radiation therapy,
To Nancy, who shed all the comforts of her childhood luxury in order to better take care of her children,
To my mom, who within the uncertainties of her kids' careers, puts on a stylish outfit everyday to show the world that we'll be ok.
To my Tita Cel, who has proven to be a strong foundation for her children all these years, but most of all, proven to be the best friend my Tito Rody (Uncle Rody) could ever have.
To Mel, who in the face of a health battle is the one telling her friends to "have faith, God is good".
As I face the next stage of my "Turning 40 Blues"---6) Reconstruction and Working Through---I arm myself with thoughts of these women. Women who to this day are molding me into a better person as I strive to grow up like them. Women who remind me of faith in God and faith in one's self.
Even when it does sound like crazy-talk some days.
I have always known about the 7 stages of grief.
While I don't consciously keep track of every stage when in the midst of a predicament, I do believe that one must go though the motions in order to come out of a funk in the end.
The past year, I know I went through the first four, not in an organized order, but perhaps a series of back and forths in my daily life:
1) Shock and Denial (I still am)
2) Pain and Guilt
3) Anger and Bargaining
4) Depression, Reflection, Loneliness
http://www.recover-from-grief.com/7-stages-of-grief.html
A month ago, I came back from a much-delayed visit to my beloved home country, the Philippines. And as always, it was a much needed visit to feed the soul. Coming back, it seems like a whole part of me inside opened up.
Everyone will tell you that Filipinos are a grateful lot. We are the culture that waved and smiled at the cameras as a coup d' etat was unfolding in the mid-80s. We are a country where peddlers sport highlights on their hair, while holding cellphones. A country where shanty squatters have cables illegally snaking up and hooking up to a nearby house. Where Christmas decor adorn even a cardboard shelter.
People who hear these things might assume we are crazy. Absolutely. But faith could also be defined as "loony". And we are a happy and faithful nation. We strongly believe without seeing. We trust that God will take care of us no matter how dire things get, for as long as we also meet Him halfway.
I kept my trip pretty simple. I wasn't there to go nightclubbing, bar-hopping, or even island hopping like I used to. This was a trip designed to spend time with loved ones. And in doing so, in sitting still, I experienced the real women of "my" Manila. Women who have always been close to my heart, and yet I have ignored just how much of a role model they played in my life. They define for me what it means to be courageous at the face of adversity. While some (like my mom), might not always be graceful about it---and she would agree---they remain strong and continue to stand tall. What these women are going through, and have gone through are far beyond what we all consider to be "problems": not having time to go to the gym, the pain of endlessly looking for the next freelance gig, of not saving enough, losing lbs, chores, and the list goes on. These women put my worries and strength to shame. To them, I look up and pray for to the heavens:
To my Tita Eca (Auntie Eca), who at her mid-70s, still giggles and smiles knowing that she has lived a full life while going through radiation therapy,
To Nancy, who shed all the comforts of her childhood luxury in order to better take care of her children,
To my mom, who within the uncertainties of her kids' careers, puts on a stylish outfit everyday to show the world that we'll be ok.
To my Tita Cel, who has proven to be a strong foundation for her children all these years, but most of all, proven to be the best friend my Tito Rody (Uncle Rody) could ever have.
To Mel, who in the face of a health battle is the one telling her friends to "have faith, God is good".
As I face the next stage of my "Turning 40 Blues"---6) Reconstruction and Working Through---I arm myself with thoughts of these women. Women who to this day are molding me into a better person as I strive to grow up like them. Women who remind me of faith in God and faith in one's self.
Even when it does sound like crazy-talk some days.
Monday, November 1, 2010
THE HORROR! THE HORROR!
(3.5 days remaining)
As I was planning the LA edition of my 40th Bday celebration, I decidedly wanted to keep it more "grown up". In my head I was 40 soon and I should have an "adult" party. More ladylike. I picked napkins that were a classy and demure black and white theme. I decidedly insisted on a nice creative centerpiece of succulents and lemons. And a stoop decorated by lavender and pumpkins. The only problem was, it's not in my real nature to be so poised and demure as the napkins indicated!
I may be on the final days of my being 39, but it does not mean I don't get to be silly anymore. In fact, I am realizing that as I enter a new chapter (and a new tick box) soon, all the more I needed a huge sense of whimsy about it all. And if friends are willing to get down and silly with me, all the better.
In deep gratitude for the life I have lived and enjoyed, the "adult" party turned into a SCARY HOLY SH!T Bday. It was Halloween weekend and so I embraced the panic of it all. I was going to laugh at 40's face.
The more I prep'd the apartment for the party, the more I wanted a party that celebrated the "people" around me. It was a party for graces in my life. So before long, I was carelessly tossing wine corks on the table spread, sliding on a hot pink and gold-roped headband. I was off to the 80s of my teens.
(from left, Claudia, Markus, Jephenny, y a o, and Jon, the wine steward)
The night was a wine-food pairing night. And the guest list was short but selected well. We had a blast. Wine and appetizer pairings were inhaled. It was easy finger foods, not anything too prissy, but still delectable by all means. We were sprawled around the sofa, just chatting about everything and anything. Come to the candle blowing, I asked everyone to blow a candle each as we held y a o's treats. Wishes for everyone! It was not to be a Miss Perfect and by-the-book night.
And you know what---no one really cared about the big 4-0. I was "Vanessa" in their eyes, and will always be just "Vanessa" 39 or not.
(Special thanks to JC, my co-conspirator for helping me make it happen. Without days of lifting, mopping, clearing and cutting, I wouldn't have had a party. He also made for a very knowledgeable and entertaining wine host, sweatband and all.)
As I was planning the LA edition of my 40th Bday celebration, I decidedly wanted to keep it more "grown up". In my head I was 40 soon and I should have an "adult" party. More ladylike. I picked napkins that were a classy and demure black and white theme. I decidedly insisted on a nice creative centerpiece of succulents and lemons. And a stoop decorated by lavender and pumpkins. The only problem was, it's not in my real nature to be so poised and demure as the napkins indicated!
I may be on the final days of my being 39, but it does not mean I don't get to be silly anymore. In fact, I am realizing that as I enter a new chapter (and a new tick box) soon, all the more I needed a huge sense of whimsy about it all. And if friends are willing to get down and silly with me, all the better.
In deep gratitude for the life I have lived and enjoyed, the "adult" party turned into a SCARY HOLY SH!T Bday. It was Halloween weekend and so I embraced the panic of it all. I was going to laugh at 40's face.
The more I prep'd the apartment for the party, the more I wanted a party that celebrated the "people" around me. It was a party for graces in my life. So before long, I was carelessly tossing wine corks on the table spread, sliding on a hot pink and gold-roped headband. I was off to the 80s of my teens.
(from left, Claudia, Markus, Jephenny, y a o, and Jon, the wine steward)
The night was a wine-food pairing night. And the guest list was short but selected well. We had a blast. Wine and appetizer pairings were inhaled. It was easy finger foods, not anything too prissy, but still delectable by all means. We were sprawled around the sofa, just chatting about everything and anything. Come to the candle blowing, I asked everyone to blow a candle each as we held y a o's treats. Wishes for everyone! It was not to be a Miss Perfect and by-the-book night.
And you know what---no one really cared about the big 4-0. I was "Vanessa" in their eyes, and will always be just "Vanessa" 39 or not.
(Special thanks to JC, my co-conspirator for helping me make it happen. Without days of lifting, mopping, clearing and cutting, I wouldn't have had a party. He also made for a very knowledgeable and entertaining wine host, sweatband and all.)
Monday, October 25, 2010
Always Be Ready To Party
(10 day, 5 hours, and 15 minutes)
I am getting ready for my LA edition of my 40th celebration. Nothing major, just a wine pairing night with a hand full of friends in CALI. I designed it so I have nothing to stress over too much---except, now I am still freaking out! It's the whole cleaning and organizing bit, as well as the mental preparation for actually turning 40. Frankly, I don't quite know if I am panicked more for the party or the bday. But I just take it all as one overwhelming feeling.
Why cannot I be like one those people?! Always ready for unannounced guests.
Adding insult to injury, last night I met the lovely gay couple that lives above me. We became instant BFFs as they too shared my passion for interior design, flea market treasures from the 50s and just overall aesthetics. Manuel as it turns out is a fashion designer. If you know me at all, you know that at this point I pretty much decided that I love this gay man. Michael, I am not so sure of but he is very sweet and shares the other's DIY sensibilities. They put me to shame as I walked through their apartment. Their place felt like a "home", with each room treated with so much care and thought. Each item you know they have a high regard for. Their greatest feature perhaps is "I SEE THEIR DESIGN". They have that immaculate neatness and order that does not seem human, and just that general good feeling of quality of life.
Yes I have great ideas, beautiful things and set ups I've arranged around, but they are hidden behind the clutter. Could this be a metaphor for my own life? I heard once before, "how you are with one thing, is how you are about everything". It's a very black and white statement but there is great truth in it (to some degree).
After I made plans to "brunch" with my gay BFFs, I quickly returned to my task. Throw, organize, or at least put in the garage. I have a long way to go, but come Saturday, I know I'll be ready. At least for the party.
At the moment I could hear one of the M & M couple pound away. I am sure they are building something innovative as I type. But no worries. In time, it'll be my turn to tour them around my home. I just have some digging, spitting and buffing to do before I get to the good stuff.
I am getting ready for my LA edition of my 40th celebration. Nothing major, just a wine pairing night with a hand full of friends in CALI. I designed it so I have nothing to stress over too much---except, now I am still freaking out! It's the whole cleaning and organizing bit, as well as the mental preparation for actually turning 40. Frankly, I don't quite know if I am panicked more for the party or the bday. But I just take it all as one overwhelming feeling.
Why cannot I be like one those people?! Always ready for unannounced guests.
Adding insult to injury, last night I met the lovely gay couple that lives above me. We became instant BFFs as they too shared my passion for interior design, flea market treasures from the 50s and just overall aesthetics. Manuel as it turns out is a fashion designer. If you know me at all, you know that at this point I pretty much decided that I love this gay man. Michael, I am not so sure of but he is very sweet and shares the other's DIY sensibilities. They put me to shame as I walked through their apartment. Their place felt like a "home", with each room treated with so much care and thought. Each item you know they have a high regard for. Their greatest feature perhaps is "I SEE THEIR DESIGN". They have that immaculate neatness and order that does not seem human, and just that general good feeling of quality of life.
Yes I have great ideas, beautiful things and set ups I've arranged around, but they are hidden behind the clutter. Could this be a metaphor for my own life? I heard once before, "how you are with one thing, is how you are about everything". It's a very black and white statement but there is great truth in it (to some degree).
After I made plans to "brunch" with my gay BFFs, I quickly returned to my task. Throw, organize, or at least put in the garage. I have a long way to go, but come Saturday, I know I'll be ready. At least for the party.
At the moment I could hear one of the M & M couple pound away. I am sure they are building something innovative as I type. But no worries. In time, it'll be my turn to tour them around my home. I just have some digging, spitting and buffing to do before I get to the good stuff.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Let Me Make Myself Clear
(20 days remaining)---freak out time
I have this habit of creating lists of TO DOs. That's a good thing I know. But my lists tend to be on the messy side.
One look at them and instantly you'd think I was deranged.
For one, my lists are endless. A sure sign that I am not prioritizing enough. And the worst thing is every real estate of the napkin or the sheet/s of paper are used. I cannot seem to restrict myself into neat well-behaved columns.
This might all be harmless enough.
But if making myself concentrate enough to treat my activities with reverence makes me consider them for a moment longer, then that could only help calm me down. I have a tendency to overwhelm myself as my friends are well aware of.
Besides it might help me organize the rest of my life in the process.
I am sure a costly shrink would deduce as much.
I have this habit of creating lists of TO DOs. That's a good thing I know. But my lists tend to be on the messy side.
One look at them and instantly you'd think I was deranged.
For one, my lists are endless. A sure sign that I am not prioritizing enough. And the worst thing is every real estate of the napkin or the sheet/s of paper are used. I cannot seem to restrict myself into neat well-behaved columns.
This might all be harmless enough.
But if making myself concentrate enough to treat my activities with reverence makes me consider them for a moment longer, then that could only help calm me down. I have a tendency to overwhelm myself as my friends are well aware of.
Besides it might help me organize the rest of my life in the process.
I am sure a costly shrink would deduce as much.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Taking My Vitamin C
(2 months and 27 days)---oh dear Lord.
I have been lazy.
I have been "so not in the mood to turn 40", let alone talk about the work I needed to do like I promised you.
While I am ashamed that it's taken me over 3 months to run another entry, I promise you I have been doing the work.
The mental, emotional and physical work.
While I was not writing about it, I was processing it all. "Living" it.
As the dawn of my 40th year draws near, many nights are filled with worries that haunt me. A general disappointment at where I am in my life and career to date. And of course this economy has been my biggest enemy lately in all matters of progress with my passions.
Some old co-worker I never really bonded with told me once that an average Asian woman long for the 3 Cs:
Cars (wealth), Carats (marriage), and Child is what I vaguely remember. All I know for sure is that in my chair I winced, and I argued with her quite a bit actually, letting her know that not all women are like this (me). In my heart, I didn't foresee myself getting there any time soon. And I was fine with it. I just couldn't relate.
Now years later, I remember that list and as I feel insecure about turning 40 about just about anything and everything, and I succumbed to reflecting about that list (and truthfully what society considers the signs of success). After being my own biggest critic, I realized that she couldn't be more opposite to me as a person. And I am not some cattle in a herd that blindly follows. (By the way, I do own an adorable Honda Fit I am in love with, but I am pretty sure she met those of the type that warms your butt with heated leather seating).
So why would I measure my life against this stick? Because it is the accepted norm I guess.
But it's not enough for me.
So let me re-jig the List of Cs for "me":
Comfort (to be able to provide for my parents and loved ones),
Calm (serenity brought on by simple living, good health and hopefully poise),
Charity (compassion for others),
Capital (for my own business in the future),
Commitment (to my true essence and perhaps in the future, with someone who is meant for me)
Courage (to face the future that is so unknown) and
Childlikeness (that giddy wonder forever)
There you go, my Cs. Now I just need to drink plenty of water, defiant as I forge ahead. And wine. And wine.
I have been lazy.
I have been "so not in the mood to turn 40", let alone talk about the work I needed to do like I promised you.
While I am ashamed that it's taken me over 3 months to run another entry, I promise you I have been doing the work.
The mental, emotional and physical work.
While I was not writing about it, I was processing it all. "Living" it.
As the dawn of my 40th year draws near, many nights are filled with worries that haunt me. A general disappointment at where I am in my life and career to date. And of course this economy has been my biggest enemy lately in all matters of progress with my passions.
Some old co-worker I never really bonded with told me once that an average Asian woman long for the 3 Cs:
Cars (wealth), Carats (marriage), and Child is what I vaguely remember. All I know for sure is that in my chair I winced, and I argued with her quite a bit actually, letting her know that not all women are like this (me). In my heart, I didn't foresee myself getting there any time soon. And I was fine with it. I just couldn't relate.
Now years later, I remember that list and as I feel insecure about turning 40 about just about anything and everything, and I succumbed to reflecting about that list (and truthfully what society considers the signs of success). After being my own biggest critic, I realized that she couldn't be more opposite to me as a person. And I am not some cattle in a herd that blindly follows. (By the way, I do own an adorable Honda Fit I am in love with, but I am pretty sure she met those of the type that warms your butt with heated leather seating).
So why would I measure my life against this stick? Because it is the accepted norm I guess.
But it's not enough for me.
So let me re-jig the List of Cs for "me":
Comfort (to be able to provide for my parents and loved ones),
Calm (serenity brought on by simple living, good health and hopefully poise),
Charity (compassion for others),
Capital (for my own business in the future),
Commitment (to my true essence and perhaps in the future, with someone who is meant for me)
Courage (to face the future that is so unknown) and
Childlikeness (that giddy wonder forever)
There you go, my Cs. Now I just need to drink plenty of water, defiant as I forge ahead. And wine. And wine.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Walking with Mischief in My Eyes
(5 months, 17 days)
I've been missing the walks I used to take everyday in New York City.
In the suburbs of LA, unless I make a conscious effort to park far from a store entrance or take my lunch time walks, there isn't really much opportunity to let my mind wander anymore. As a result, I feel heavier in mind, body, and soul.
In a sense, I have lost my strut.
...that fabulous swagger that New Yorkers are proud of.
...that necessary quick footing that kept me quick-witted and fit.
...that confident stride that attacked life.
I will resume walking in the mornings and getting connected to myself again.
A lot of fresh air and people watching can only do me good. Besides, in the great Metropolis of Whittier, I am in no real danger of walking in and out of boutiques with great finds. At best, I would walk away having found myself.
I've been missing the walks I used to take everyday in New York City.
In the suburbs of LA, unless I make a conscious effort to park far from a store entrance or take my lunch time walks, there isn't really much opportunity to let my mind wander anymore. As a result, I feel heavier in mind, body, and soul.
In a sense, I have lost my strut.
...that fabulous swagger that New Yorkers are proud of.
...that necessary quick footing that kept me quick-witted and fit.
...that confident stride that attacked life.
I will resume walking in the mornings and getting connected to myself again.
A lot of fresh air and people watching can only do me good. Besides, in the great Metropolis of Whittier, I am in no real danger of walking in and out of boutiques with great finds. At best, I would walk away having found myself.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
The Morning After
(5 months and 24 days)
Many times I have been stunted by my own preconceived notions and expectations. I am currently facing my own redefinition. And boy, the ride is bumpy.
A few loved ones reminded me last week that I need to be able to recognize the opportunities---even when they don't come perfectly wrapped, and accessorized.
Given the state of the economy, most people are having to mutate rapidly, looking for ways to transform themselves to stay relevant. And in my case especially, mid last year I set out for a goal and now I am finding myself many notches away. I realize now that I need to quickly reprogram my thinking. I should recognize "potential" when it presents itself. Or atleast be willing enough to say "hello" and have a fling with it (of course, this does not apply to drugs, or "bad news" boys).
I've been guilty of prematurely snuffing things out because all I could see were the negatives. When often times, blessings are in disguise. I want to train my heart and mind to see the good that comes my way and accentuate the positive.
I want to see a vision of the AFTER, before I get scared of the BEFORE.
(Wonderchair AFTER)
(Wonderchair BEFORE, as featured in March 5's entry: Vanessa in Wonderland)
For I am sure the great Michelangelo never looked at a stone and thought, "Nope, not polished enough".
He buffed and shined it until it was great.
Many times I have been stunted by my own preconceived notions and expectations. I am currently facing my own redefinition. And boy, the ride is bumpy.
A few loved ones reminded me last week that I need to be able to recognize the opportunities---even when they don't come perfectly wrapped, and accessorized.
Given the state of the economy, most people are having to mutate rapidly, looking for ways to transform themselves to stay relevant. And in my case especially, mid last year I set out for a goal and now I am finding myself many notches away. I realize now that I need to quickly reprogram my thinking. I should recognize "potential" when it presents itself. Or atleast be willing enough to say "hello" and have a fling with it (of course, this does not apply to drugs, or "bad news" boys).
I've been guilty of prematurely snuffing things out because all I could see were the negatives. When often times, blessings are in disguise. I want to train my heart and mind to see the good that comes my way and accentuate the positive.
I want to see a vision of the AFTER, before I get scared of the BEFORE.
(Wonderchair AFTER)
(Wonderchair BEFORE, as featured in March 5's entry: Vanessa in Wonderland)
For I am sure the great Michelangelo never looked at a stone and thought, "Nope, not polished enough".
He buffed and shined it until it was great.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
It's Never Too Early To Miss Someone
(6 months and 1 day)
It has been about a month now since my last entry and I'm really sorry about that. But do know that while I haven't posted, the growth work has not stopped. If anything, it was at its speediest. For you see, it was a time I felt I needed to just be within my thoughts.
Let me explain. About a month ago, my mom left to stay in the Philippines for good. And while on a daily basis you could frequently hear me screaming in frustration after we hang up from a phone conversation, the simple truth is I love my mom.
The night I watched her make the turn for the security check, I couldn't stop crying. She was not going to be "easy access" anymore. And while one would think I would have exhaled a sigh of relief after months of torturous arguments and stress over her move, I found myself deeply saddened.
There, was a woman who loved me so, and accepted me for all that I was. She might nag me and make me feel guilty, but at the end of the day, she's been there for me.
That afternoon, we were still shopping for her last minute supplies, and in all our stops, for every cream she bought for herself, she'd get me a moisturizer. For every multi-vitamin, she would buy me Calcium supps to leave on my kitchen table.
My dad, was always the practical man. A cardiologist who has worked hard throughout the years. While he is a science man, he is moreso a religious man. He always made "responsible decisions". Just as he would always wear iron pressed pajamas to bed. As reserved as he is, in his weekly calls, I could feel the love. Although by the end of it, I am dying from hearing, "pray the rosary every night", for the umpteenth time.
In my career life throughout the years, both my parents have been very supportive of all my decisions. A great deal of them, they didn't necessary understand, but they knew creatively I needed to pursue them. And since most of the last 12 years I have been very busy everyday, I know that I have numbed a part of me that would soften with every phone call they made.
But life is short, and as I turn 40, my parents turn 70. It is time for me to really pay attention to them.
So I will learn to enjoy every overbearing phone call, get amused by run on e-mails full of complaints, and appreciate the heard-it-many-times-over lectures on health and financial stability. If I had all that time all those years to listen to my clients' hackneyed comments, I sure as hell have time to entertain whatever my parents toss my way.
I will miss them now, instead of later.
It has been about a month now since my last entry and I'm really sorry about that. But do know that while I haven't posted, the growth work has not stopped. If anything, it was at its speediest. For you see, it was a time I felt I needed to just be within my thoughts.
Let me explain. About a month ago, my mom left to stay in the Philippines for good. And while on a daily basis you could frequently hear me screaming in frustration after we hang up from a phone conversation, the simple truth is I love my mom.
The night I watched her make the turn for the security check, I couldn't stop crying. She was not going to be "easy access" anymore. And while one would think I would have exhaled a sigh of relief after months of torturous arguments and stress over her move, I found myself deeply saddened.
There, was a woman who loved me so, and accepted me for all that I was. She might nag me and make me feel guilty, but at the end of the day, she's been there for me.
That afternoon, we were still shopping for her last minute supplies, and in all our stops, for every cream she bought for herself, she'd get me a moisturizer. For every multi-vitamin, she would buy me Calcium supps to leave on my kitchen table.
My dad, was always the practical man. A cardiologist who has worked hard throughout the years. While he is a science man, he is moreso a religious man. He always made "responsible decisions". Just as he would always wear iron pressed pajamas to bed. As reserved as he is, in his weekly calls, I could feel the love. Although by the end of it, I am dying from hearing, "pray the rosary every night", for the umpteenth time.
In my career life throughout the years, both my parents have been very supportive of all my decisions. A great deal of them, they didn't necessary understand, but they knew creatively I needed to pursue them. And since most of the last 12 years I have been very busy everyday, I know that I have numbed a part of me that would soften with every phone call they made.
But life is short, and as I turn 40, my parents turn 70. It is time for me to really pay attention to them.
So I will learn to enjoy every overbearing phone call, get amused by run on e-mails full of complaints, and appreciate the heard-it-many-times-over lectures on health and financial stability. If I had all that time all those years to listen to my clients' hackneyed comments, I sure as hell have time to entertain whatever my parents toss my way.
I will miss them now, instead of later.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
SOFA KING BUENO
(7 months 8 days)
Last weekend, I had the opportunity to go to Paso Zinfest and sample lots of great wines and food.
The highlight of which was CHRONIC CELLARS, a winery opened by the 2 sons of the classic Peachy Canyon. The rebel sons.
http://www.chroniccellars.com/
The label hooked me in, as a friend kept raving about their designs. And being an avid fan of great aesthetics, I was curious.
"Sofa King Bueno" (please read it fast for full effect) is 66% Syrah, 12% Petite Sirah, 11% Grenache, 11% Mourvedre. I loved the wine, and I loved the name. And as I read this label, I blushed. I am 55% still a prude. And while I blush at such expletives, even cleverly disguised, I am reminded of how my prudence in life has held me back through the years.
I am actually much better now than when I first moved to New York. The city taught me to be very open, and very little actually shocks me anymore. But still, I do watch what I say, and keep any profanity minimal, which is almost never, aside from sh_t. And even then I have to "underscore" it.
But I am really not talking about how well and how often one can use profane language here. I am really talking about that zeal, that "charging towards life" quality that some people are just naturally gifted with. Beyond just the surface uber "discretion" I have always had, there is that deep lack of caution to the wind in me. Imagine this, when I was about 18 I think, I wore a tanktop underneath my one piece bathing suit because I deemed it too low cut and revealing. Even my aunt was begging me to take it off.
I am really not that bad. In fact, my parents will argue that. They have always looked at me as the rebellious daughter who ran off to the big, bad city. But I know myself. And I know I hold back on certain things because of my "decency to a fault creed". You know, the kind that prevents new experiences and growth sometimes. The kind that could really only give you 45% of life. And this is what I'd like to savour more.
After all, life is best spent when every so often you get to scream out, "SOFA KING BUENO!" to the world around you.
Last weekend, I had the opportunity to go to Paso Zinfest and sample lots of great wines and food.
The highlight of which was CHRONIC CELLARS, a winery opened by the 2 sons of the classic Peachy Canyon. The rebel sons.
http://www.chroniccellars.com/
The label hooked me in, as a friend kept raving about their designs. And being an avid fan of great aesthetics, I was curious.
"Sofa King Bueno" (please read it fast for full effect) is 66% Syrah, 12% Petite Sirah, 11% Grenache, 11% Mourvedre. I loved the wine, and I loved the name. And as I read this label, I blushed. I am 55% still a prude. And while I blush at such expletives, even cleverly disguised, I am reminded of how my prudence in life has held me back through the years.
I am actually much better now than when I first moved to New York. The city taught me to be very open, and very little actually shocks me anymore. But still, I do watch what I say, and keep any profanity minimal, which is almost never, aside from sh_t. And even then I have to "underscore" it.
But I am really not talking about how well and how often one can use profane language here. I am really talking about that zeal, that "charging towards life" quality that some people are just naturally gifted with. Beyond just the surface uber "discretion" I have always had, there is that deep lack of caution to the wind in me. Imagine this, when I was about 18 I think, I wore a tanktop underneath my one piece bathing suit because I deemed it too low cut and revealing. Even my aunt was begging me to take it off.
I am really not that bad. In fact, my parents will argue that. They have always looked at me as the rebellious daughter who ran off to the big, bad city. But I know myself. And I know I hold back on certain things because of my "decency to a fault creed". You know, the kind that prevents new experiences and growth sometimes. The kind that could really only give you 45% of life. And this is what I'd like to savour more.
After all, life is best spent when every so often you get to scream out, "SOFA KING BUENO!" to the world around you.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Bye Bye Baby
(7 months, 19 days)
(play the music as you read)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yUwW108ITzw
I have had the same arms and sadly, thighs all my life.
So I will target these areas in hopes of shaking off the "not so baby, baby fat".
Don't worry, I promise not to wear the short dresses, even though they are back in style.
(play the music as you read)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yUwW108ITzw
I have had the same arms and sadly, thighs all my life.
So I will target these areas in hopes of shaking off the "not so baby, baby fat".
Don't worry, I promise not to wear the short dresses, even though they are back in style.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Vanessa in Wonderland
(exactly 8 months to go)
The past few weeks I feel like I’ve been to hell and back.
If there was something to learn, it’s really important to practice composure in life, especially in the current business I am.
Because of my tendency to be a stickler for what I believe in and my passion for doing things right, I do end up being “reactive”. And frankly, it gets tiring. In my head, I hate hearing myself whine. So I think it’s time to wrangle myself in, and be proactive instead. This takes a lot of deep breathing and walking away from heightened moments sometimes. The truth is a lot of times, the best way to behave is to just do "nothing". Let life sort itself out. That actually by doing "nothing", we are often times, doing something good. An act I am not used to. A reaction that's novel to me and the most challenging for most of us.
One of the things that will help me visually remember this habit is a reading chair. Basically, I will carve myself a proper reading nook, or what might really be more specifically a “time off, gather myself, hear myself think" nook.
I purchased a rather beat up, cigarette burnt wingback, tufted chair a few weeks ago. It’s so dingy (and in a very groovy corduroy state), I couldn’t get myself to bring it straight home. So it’s been sitting at the antique shop, until I pick a fabric to have the old gentleman across re-upholster it for me.
(The Wonderchair)
I shall create a physical space where in I am safe.
A space where I can be still...where I can participate by not participating.
A place where I shall remain the captain of my own ship.
The past few weeks I feel like I’ve been to hell and back.
If there was something to learn, it’s really important to practice composure in life, especially in the current business I am.
Because of my tendency to be a stickler for what I believe in and my passion for doing things right, I do end up being “reactive”. And frankly, it gets tiring. In my head, I hate hearing myself whine. So I think it’s time to wrangle myself in, and be proactive instead. This takes a lot of deep breathing and walking away from heightened moments sometimes. The truth is a lot of times, the best way to behave is to just do "nothing". Let life sort itself out. That actually by doing "nothing", we are often times, doing something good. An act I am not used to. A reaction that's novel to me and the most challenging for most of us.
One of the things that will help me visually remember this habit is a reading chair. Basically, I will carve myself a proper reading nook, or what might really be more specifically a “time off, gather myself, hear myself think" nook.
I purchased a rather beat up, cigarette burnt wingback, tufted chair a few weeks ago. It’s so dingy (and in a very groovy corduroy state), I couldn’t get myself to bring it straight home. So it’s been sitting at the antique shop, until I pick a fabric to have the old gentleman across re-upholster it for me.
(The Wonderchair)
I shall create a physical space where in I am safe.
A space where I can be still...where I can participate by not participating.
A place where I shall remain the captain of my own ship.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
My Will and My Grace
(8 months, 15 days)
I’m sorry I am a bit late with posting an entry this week.
I’ve been a bit swamped with life’s stories, and I was trying my best to be Miss Grace Under Pressure.
This seemed to be the week’s theme. Being graceful in both good and bad situations. Much like the 2010 Winter Olympics, where a gold winner like Lysacek is full of modest grace, while Plushenko whines to everyone who will listen about his "quadruple's" lost. Only we common folk don’t get gold, silver or even bronze.
In my life this translates to taking a deep breath while trying not to hang up on my mother.
Or trying not to yawn and appear interested at what some hack might poorly suggest to me at a work meeting. The thing is, I have been struggling with this gracefulness for awhile now. I think I am pretty good with the humility portion, even being self-deprecating to a fault. But when it comes to keeping my cool, I find it hard to stay calm. Instead, I get red with fury and my forehead wrinkles. The most grace I practice is the restrain I summon, in not jumping across the table and slapping someone.
>
Yes, I am pretty bad at being grace under fire most times. So let me try getting a handle of this. Which really means being able to handle my emotions.
It’s no wonder really that I could also be a messy eater. While others look divine while they enjoy a meal, I swallow each bite full whole. I think it’s 12 years of working in advertising, being trained to have one hand on a forkful of salad, another on the computer trying to re-comp an ad that was just revised by a client and now account people are breathing down my neck. Aside for the obvious metaphor of not living in the moment, it’s also really bad for my health and weight, according to some French ladies who eat chocolate and stay thin–––and I know one of my good friends, Yao would agree (I am at dessert already, getting my bill and she's just on her third bite of her appetizer).
I wish to chew each bite full for a few minutes, while savoring that moment and sitting with such great posture, I look very poised while I’m at it (ok, I’ll settle for no crumbs on my chest and no hunching over a bowl of spaghetti).
(By the way, I have cheated 3x on that second cup of coffee this week. I needed the caffeine to just keep me going. I know I sound like a junkie. But I promise to make good on my promise.)
I’m sorry I am a bit late with posting an entry this week.
I’ve been a bit swamped with life’s stories, and I was trying my best to be Miss Grace Under Pressure.
This seemed to be the week’s theme. Being graceful in both good and bad situations. Much like the 2010 Winter Olympics, where a gold winner like Lysacek is full of modest grace, while Plushenko whines to everyone who will listen about his "quadruple's" lost. Only we common folk don’t get gold, silver or even bronze.
In my life this translates to taking a deep breath while trying not to hang up on my mother.
Or trying not to yawn and appear interested at what some hack might poorly suggest to me at a work meeting. The thing is, I have been struggling with this gracefulness for awhile now. I think I am pretty good with the humility portion, even being self-deprecating to a fault. But when it comes to keeping my cool, I find it hard to stay calm. Instead, I get red with fury and my forehead wrinkles. The most grace I practice is the restrain I summon, in not jumping across the table and slapping someone.
>Yes, I am pretty bad at being grace under fire most times. So let me try getting a handle of this. Which really means being able to handle my emotions.
It’s no wonder really that I could also be a messy eater. While others look divine while they enjoy a meal, I swallow each bite full whole. I think it’s 12 years of working in advertising, being trained to have one hand on a forkful of salad, another on the computer trying to re-comp an ad that was just revised by a client and now account people are breathing down my neck. Aside for the obvious metaphor of not living in the moment, it’s also really bad for my health and weight, according to some French ladies who eat chocolate and stay thin–––and I know one of my good friends, Yao would agree (I am at dessert already, getting my bill and she's just on her third bite of her appetizer).
I wish to chew each bite full for a few minutes, while savoring that moment and sitting with such great posture, I look very poised while I’m at it (ok, I’ll settle for no crumbs on my chest and no hunching over a bowl of spaghetti).
(By the way, I have cheated 3x on that second cup of coffee this week. I needed the caffeine to just keep me going. I know I sound like a junkie. But I promise to make good on my promise.)
Monday, February 8, 2010
I Take My Sorry Back
(8 months and 26 days)
I refuse to apologize for who I am anymore.
I have spent almost all of my life being uncomfortable almost all the time.
I remember a distinct moment a few years ago when I was still at my second job in New York. This was before I discovered the luxury of pedicure spas and all that girly stuff. It was a summer day and I was out to lunch with one of my BFF co-workers. I got into a casual conversation with two other co-workers that we passed by---one who was my old work partner, and the other one, someone who've actually in a way stolen my old work partner from me (long story. I really don't care about it anymore to elaborate). It was really like running into an ex who is now playing Happily Ever Aftter with a new lover.
As we were talking, I could see this one girl (the thief) glance down at my feet, staring at it. Now I was wearing a leather Birkenstock kind of vibed sandals at the time (trust me, it was cool then. I had a quirky look.). I know my feet were unpolished, but they were by no means scary or ugly. She looked at them in a way that conveyed a certain measure, a sizing up, judging me from my dry feet (side story: I was working 18 to 20 hour days and had no time for a proper pedicure).
I felt very little at that moment. I felt like the size of a nickel on the ground. Does that even make sense to me now? No. But back then, her eyes looked down with such snobbery that I still feel the sting when I think about it.
I swore never to put myself in that position again. I swore never to give anyone that much power over me again. Easier said that done.
Years later, I do still walk around with a bit of discomfort in my own skin. But at the rate I am going, I may never have fun if I keep this up. I mean "fully" have fun and be fully present. For when will I ever really be "perfect" enough?
So from now on I will take it easy on myself with my endless self-judgments and perusals. I will try with all my might to be proud of who I am and what I've grown up to be. I will LOVE ME. Bed head and all.
"Take it or take a hike."
I refuse to apologize for who I am anymore.
I have spent almost all of my life being uncomfortable almost all the time.
I remember a distinct moment a few years ago when I was still at my second job in New York. This was before I discovered the luxury of pedicure spas and all that girly stuff. It was a summer day and I was out to lunch with one of my BFF co-workers. I got into a casual conversation with two other co-workers that we passed by---one who was my old work partner, and the other one, someone who've actually in a way stolen my old work partner from me (long story. I really don't care about it anymore to elaborate). It was really like running into an ex who is now playing Happily Ever Aftter with a new lover.
As we were talking, I could see this one girl (the thief) glance down at my feet, staring at it. Now I was wearing a leather Birkenstock kind of vibed sandals at the time (trust me, it was cool then. I had a quirky look.). I know my feet were unpolished, but they were by no means scary or ugly. She looked at them in a way that conveyed a certain measure, a sizing up, judging me from my dry feet (side story: I was working 18 to 20 hour days and had no time for a proper pedicure).
I felt very little at that moment. I felt like the size of a nickel on the ground. Does that even make sense to me now? No. But back then, her eyes looked down with such snobbery that I still feel the sting when I think about it.
I swore never to put myself in that position again. I swore never to give anyone that much power over me again. Easier said that done.
Years later, I do still walk around with a bit of discomfort in my own skin. But at the rate I am going, I may never have fun if I keep this up. I mean "fully" have fun and be fully present. For when will I ever really be "perfect" enough?
So from now on I will take it easy on myself with my endless self-judgments and perusals. I will try with all my might to be proud of who I am and what I've grown up to be. I will LOVE ME. Bed head and all.
"Take it or take a hike."
Saturday, February 6, 2010
A Certain Clearing
(8 months and 29 days)
I just found out that my neighbor died. She lived above me. And although in my 2 years in this building, I’ve only seen her come and go and never even seen her face. Hearing that shook me. I knew she was young (possibly my age or even younger) and looked healthy and vibrant. Details of it are unknown, although the handyman said it was during that stormy week a week or so ago. We are guessing it was an accident. All I know is that last weekend shuffling can be heard above me like they were moving stuff and emptying her place. I am still in shock. I wish I had said hello to her even once. Or at least made a stronger effort. I wish I had walked around with an openness about me that invited her conversation.
We just never know do we? We think we have all this time to waste on silly, unimportant-to-the-grand-scheme-of-things preoccupations, and then poof! Mad random thoughts came to my mind: What if time was up?
Am I to leave my family clearing my artful, yet dusty apartment?
Am I to be caught with bad underpants, and a savings that’s hardly there?
Will my friends have to wash my dishes from my messy sink, and rummage through an even messier filing system?
Will people “get” who I am by looking at my stuff? Will they accept me or be mortified?
I don’t want to live in fear of dying only because I am not the neatest person in the world. Or because I don't want to leave a less than perfect life to my loved ones. But I do know that I want to leave a legacy beyond the mess that I have. Whatever that legacy might be.
For now perhaps, I should start by tossing away my holey underwear and socks.
(Farewell, dear neighbor. I am sorry for not having been a better neighbor to you. I pray for your soul's peace. And for your family's comfort.)
I just found out that my neighbor died. She lived above me. And although in my 2 years in this building, I’ve only seen her come and go and never even seen her face. Hearing that shook me. I knew she was young (possibly my age or even younger) and looked healthy and vibrant. Details of it are unknown, although the handyman said it was during that stormy week a week or so ago. We are guessing it was an accident. All I know is that last weekend shuffling can be heard above me like they were moving stuff and emptying her place. I am still in shock. I wish I had said hello to her even once. Or at least made a stronger effort. I wish I had walked around with an openness about me that invited her conversation.
We just never know do we? We think we have all this time to waste on silly, unimportant-to-the-grand-scheme-of-things preoccupations, and then poof! Mad random thoughts came to my mind: What if time was up?
Am I to leave my family clearing my artful, yet dusty apartment?
Am I to be caught with bad underpants, and a savings that’s hardly there?
Will my friends have to wash my dishes from my messy sink, and rummage through an even messier filing system?
Will people “get” who I am by looking at my stuff? Will they accept me or be mortified?
I don’t want to live in fear of dying only because I am not the neatest person in the world. Or because I don't want to leave a less than perfect life to my loved ones. But I do know that I want to leave a legacy beyond the mess that I have. Whatever that legacy might be.
For now perhaps, I should start by tossing away my holey underwear and socks.
(Farewell, dear neighbor. I am sorry for not having been a better neighbor to you. I pray for your soul's peace. And for your family's comfort.)
Monday, February 1, 2010
Hello My Name Is Vanessa...
And I have been an addict for 17 years. A coffee addict.
“Naku, you are an adik”, my mom would badger me with a very thick Filipino accent.
For awhile now I knew I had to lessen my intake sooner than later because of genetic high blood pressure.
This depresses me so much because I looove my coffee. In fact I drink it for the yumminess and not so much for the perkiness.
See one day last week I woke up and realized that not only was it bad for my blood pressure, it was also bad for my skin. I have developed “dermatitis” in the past 2 years. Apparently, aside from gray hairs and this impending high blood pressure, my skin also has to start falling apart. And believe me, “dermatitis” in LA weather is hell. I walk around with blotchy red skin, looking like I was beaten up.
I saw pictures of myself from a few years ago. And cold turkey, I had to stop. I surely CANNOT sacrifice my skin for any cup of Joe, no matter how great-tasting.
So from now on I will only drink one mug in the morning and the rest will be green tea. I will be walking around in a bad mood, but I will have great skin. I will be the bitchy neighbor with great skin. Talk about vanity winning over again.
Mind you, I also just upgraded my sunscreen to SPF 45. My mom will be proud.
“Naku, you are an adik”, my mom would badger me with a very thick Filipino accent.
For awhile now I knew I had to lessen my intake sooner than later because of genetic high blood pressure.
This depresses me so much because I looove my coffee. In fact I drink it for the yumminess and not so much for the perkiness.
See one day last week I woke up and realized that not only was it bad for my blood pressure, it was also bad for my skin. I have developed “dermatitis” in the past 2 years. Apparently, aside from gray hairs and this impending high blood pressure, my skin also has to start falling apart. And believe me, “dermatitis” in LA weather is hell. I walk around with blotchy red skin, looking like I was beaten up.
I saw pictures of myself from a few years ago. And cold turkey, I had to stop. I surely CANNOT sacrifice my skin for any cup of Joe, no matter how great-tasting.
So from now on I will only drink one mug in the morning and the rest will be green tea. I will be walking around in a bad mood, but I will have great skin. I will be the bitchy neighbor with great skin. Talk about vanity winning over again.
Mind you, I also just upgraded my sunscreen to SPF 45. My mom will be proud.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Turning Point
(9 months and 4 days)
This is not new to a lot of people.
But in my life so far, I have always indicated the mark of any great undertaking with a haircut.
Not a trim, but a cut. A chop actually.
It’s a ritual for me. Much like a warrior prepares for battle by painting his face, I cut and dye my hair instead. And then buy a new lipstick. This time around, a nice spicy and very improper red.
This is how I mentally prepare. And this is how I see the real me. With short hair I feel most like myself.
Remember “Roman Holiday” with Audrey Hepburn? That’s the feeling.
This is not new to a lot of people.
But in my life so far, I have always indicated the mark of any great undertaking with a haircut.
Not a trim, but a cut. A chop actually.
It’s a ritual for me. Much like a warrior prepares for battle by painting his face, I cut and dye my hair instead. And then buy a new lipstick. This time around, a nice spicy and very improper red.
This is how I mentally prepare. And this is how I see the real me. With short hair I feel most like myself.
Remember “Roman Holiday” with Audrey Hepburn? That’s the feeling.
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