It was kind of strange to be coughing like crazy on the week of my birthday, thank God for loved ones who didn’t mind being exposed to my virus to celebrate my 26th birthday with me. Now if the theme of my 25th birthday was good will and remembering childhood, this year, it was surprises — big and small, my entire week was just so full of them.

I didn’t think I’d enjoy being in the receiving end of surprises as I’ve often been the one staging the surprise, but for once, it actually felt good to have family and friends who went the extra mile to remind me (over again) that I am loved.

[You can stop reading here and jump 3 pharagraphs, because I'm gona blabber about people you don't know next, and I can't guarantee that you can relate.]

On the eve of my birthday, my brother and Mom dropped by my condo with a cake my brother made himself, and some chocolate chip ice cream which I didn’t get to eat anyway because my throat chose this week of all weeks to not cooperate (but hey, it’s the thought that counts). A few minutes after Kuya Niks and Mum left, someone dingdong-ed and left me a bouquet of pink roses. ♥

My birthday dinner was nothing short of overwhelming too, with my nieces (Yna, Nicole, Koreen, Hazel and Bea) acting as sous chefs to my brother who cooked a hearty dinner for my family, and a few friends. Sct. Lascano (Kamuning) has undoubtedly become a second-home, thanks to Ninong Dave and Ninang Sweets who have always opened their doors for us, and willingly invited me (lol) to my birthday dinner. :)

Fastforward to the day after my birthday, Ivy dropped by the condo with some pizza, Kuya Nate and Ate Imy passed by shortly after, followed by Jasper who drove by for a late night coffee with Ivy, me, and R. Yes, bumabawi. And just when I was about to call it a night, Joni dropped by way past midnight to hand me her gift.

(Sometimes) I love having people drop by my place, uninvited. :) (And I say sometimes, because often, my condo is a mess, and I tell you, you don’t want to see that messy side of me.) Having people around makes this place feel even more like home. It’s not like a NY condo for sale alright, but it’s home nonetheless.

I wish I have photos to show you, but since I have been physically powerless (fine, or was just plain lazy), I chose to just focus on enjoying the moments rather than preserving them. I mean sure, these things may be ordinary — friends drop by anytime anyway, and Thursday nights in Lascano is not exactly unusual, and my brother cook dinner for us all the time. But I turned twennyyysix years old. I think that’s what made the ordinary things extra-ordinary.

And I kind of think that the people you spend your days with in your late twennys are the ones you get to spend the rest of your life with. And I’m glad. God’s been sooo good to me, my family is awesome, I have a wonderful support group behind me (circle of trust, yo!), and a bunch of amaaziiing friends (online and offline) to help me through the day. I think I’m all set. :)

Lastly, at the risk of sounding like I won an Oscar award, I just like to say, thank you everyone..

For my facebook (sorta) fan page, and all the wall messages and PMs. I know I promised to respond to each and every one of them, and I *still* intend too, really. I know I’m not really the type to remember birthdays of random acquaintances and old friends I’ve lost in touch with over the years, and I feel bad, because now being the recepient of these beautiful words from all you, I can say for a fact that each message counts. I am just overwhelmed how people (even the ones I never expected) took time to drop an FB message, or a tweet, or a flickr comment, or a text. You’re all super.

For the special SEOPH birthday thread, I’m surprised these guys still remember, thank you. :)

For the special blog greetings, Ivy, Jody, and Jeline, thank you.  ♥

For the lovely dinner, Ninong Dave, Ninang Sweets and company (Xaris! You’re the best!), thank you.

For all the surprises, Mom, my brothers, Ate Imy, Ivy, Jasper, Joni, Rico, thank you.

(Okkaayy, I’m done with my thank you speech now.)

Finally, I heard somewhere that love does not come everyday, so you have to grab it when you get a chance. I wouldn’t exactly agree on that one. I think love does come everyday, sometimes you just have to open your eyes wider to see. ^_^

Yay to twennyyysix loovely years. :)

I don’t know what happened to me but suddenly, the emo-era is back and I find myself seeing the most emo things in photographs, and song lyrics, and cloudless skies, and old, empty suitcases,

and this just a few hours ago, wounded fingers.

11/365 My soul is in the sky, originally uploaded by gchic.

[Some note: This blog post is totally unrelated to the photo, except that flying and crying are two things I don't mind being caught dead doing. So yeah, the connection stops right here.]

Tonight, while cutting potatoes to cook for dinner (yes, I do cook my own dinner contrary to what most of you would think), I cut my left thumb with a kitchen knife. And it was an awfully deep cut because I happened to be cutting with force when the knife slid on my poor thumb.

Now I grew up to believe that the first thing to do when you get a cut is to make it bleed to get as much germs out. So I did, and for the first few seconds, I did it with such bravery I never thought I had. Soon enough, however, I succumbed to the sight of dripping blood and how the cut seemed to *not* stop bleeding.

And so I cried. I let out one nasty, hearty, hysterical cry. While my blood was dripping on my kitchen floor. With bloody tissue papers scattered everywhere from the kitchen floor to the bathroom sink.

If only my camera and tripod were set up, this would’ve been one helluva flickr-moment. And the title would be something that could pass up as suicidal.

But like I said over twitter and FB, while it hurt like crazy, and left me forever traumatized by the sight of potatoes and kitchen knives, I was kinda thankful to have an excuse to cry.

I honestly think I wasn’t just crying over my bloody finger. Now that I think about it, it somehow feels more like being able to find an excuse to release all these pent-up frustrations about life out of my chest. After all, I haven’t cried in a long while. (That is, not counting that night we stopped whatever it was we’re doing out of the blue, sat down, clasped our hands, and prayed.)

I feel awful blogging about this crazy encounter with a kitchen knife. Why does it feel so uncool to admit you’re a crybaby these days? (Isn’t it an accepted fact that crying is a sign of courage anymore?)

At the risk of being branded uncool, I just have to say.. it actually feels good to cry. Even if it costs some trauma, and a deep cut.

Hey, it’s okay to have some drama in your life, come on. You don’t have to pretend you’re tough (and happy, ugh) all the time.

* * *

Also, yes, I have this renewed habit of shifting from “I” to “we” in the middle of paragraphs, just because I think *we* is such a beautiful word.

1/365 Because I’m inspired by all you people,, originally uploaded by gchic.

I must be crazy, thinking I can do this when I couldn’t even keep with posting a photo once a week.

But blaah, Click Happy Friday was sooo 10-years-ago, and things are different now. So I committed myself to Project 365 in hopes that after 365 days, my love affair with photography would have brought me somewhere.

So yay, come fly by flickr, you know, if twitter and facebook ain’t enough for you to stalk me. (Haha an invitation to stalk me? I’m sooo funny.)

Where were you people last weekend? Thanks for fleeing the city and leaving us to enjoy it. Hee. :)

Anyway, I’m not going to rant today for a change, instead, I’m inviting you to go places with me, at least virtually. :)

Since we’re all back to our office cubicles now (or NOT, haha! I meant, YOU’re all back to your office cubicles, LOL), I’m inviting you to browse through your stock photos, find that one place you want to go back to this very minute, then put the words, “Let’s find some beautiful place to get lost” on it, then post it up.

As for me, my happy place is Wollongong, I’d give anything to be transported back to that place again RIGHT NOW, if only I could. How about you? Where’s your happy place? :)

BTW, those words are not mine, I’m not sure exactly who did it first, this is just me, responding to her invitation. :)

Tagging: Joni, Meemae, Aileen, Des, Liz, Ivy, and anyone who wants to do it. ♥

Like Msbeng’s thoughts-out-loud. I once admitted to her that I lurk in her blog to read her devotions everytime I fail to do mine. *ack*

And Aileen’s travels, most specially her journals about New York — they make me feel like being transported back to that place, as if I’m experiencing her journey myself.

I think Meemae is a better version of Last Leaf — more spunk, more guts, more heart. And if only Kuya Aleks blogged more, I’d be one avid and happy lurker.

I don’t know about these people but I seem to be having a hard time writing from the heart these days, “from the heart” being the operative phrase. My drafts folder has become a daily dump of frustrations. It’s often easy to start something off, but difficult to finish it.

I still can’t believe sometimes that I’m the same person who would blog her heart out there, unabashed. And not just blog! I’d fight and love and wear my heart on my sleeve and express myself like crazy, and I didn’t mind if people watched me.

So maybe those emo-days are over, and maybe life is less of a melodrama, but the funny thing is, I’m actually missing that younger version of me. Will I ever be like her again?

* * *

On another note, you know how it’s like in the movies when one encounters a near-death experience and life suddenly flashes before his eyes? In real life, those are much likely to happen not in your dying moments, but in times when you feel most alive. Or when you’re going through something you don’t get to go through everyday. Or when you’re in transit.

I remember the few times it happened to me.

I was on my flight to Los Angeles from New York, ending my 6-day NYC adventure. There aboard the plane, belted to my seat looking out to the window, a montage of images — of Broadway, Central Park, the subway, Staten Island ferry, South Street Sea Port, Times Square, Serendipity Cafe, Brooklyn bridge, and other places in New York I was fortunate enough to experience — reeled in slow motion in my head. It was as if my mind’s way of relishing the events one last time, boxing them up to make room for new ones.

And then it happened on the trip back home from Sydney. (But I won’t bore you with the details now because it’s a longer list. Heh.)

So it happened to me again just recently, with flashbacks that included almost three years worth of corporate drama. Has it been a month already since? (And yes, there’s a longer blog post about this somewhere in my drafts, boo.)

I didn’t think I’d ever have the courage to leave behind a comfort zone in exchange for something new and unsure, but yay I actually did it. And now, the excitement (and uncertainty) is killing me.

But hey, it’s time to chase dreams. And this time, I’m gonna let my heart lead the way. ♥

*image from Michelle Bower

I’ll always be your little girl, originally uploaded by gchic.

I had goosebumps unearthing this old back-up folder I forgot I had on my webhost containing old pictures of my Dad. It’s been two years, and while most people say that it gets better as time goes by, I know in my heart that I still miss him everyday — it never ends, sometimes even more than the day before.

So I’ll make it simple this year.

Love your dads — hug them, kiss them, tell them you love them, make them proud — while you still can. :) ♥

Makati is really not for me.

I don’t know how or when it started to happen but I’ve suddenly become more sure about what I want, and how I want things to be.

See, I love New York, and I sure will fly back given a chance, but I will never settle down in that place. I love Sydney, love love love everything about it, and I will do everything in my power to keep coming back. I don’t like California at all, and unless I get an all-expenses-paid trip again, I don’t think I’ll ever go back.

I love coffee shops, I don’t like bars. I’m over with beer, and loud music, and parties. I’m all for movie nights with girlfriends, and coffee dates, and window shopping for furniture, and trips to the salon. I like Thursdays better than Fridays. I know which friends to call if I want to rant. I know who to be with if I want to sit still and stare and not say anything. I know who to nudge on YM or Skype when I have sudden bursts of ideas at any given time.

Before, I wasn’t too sure about these things. But now, well now, that has changed.

And what do you know, the future suddenly becomes bright and shiny when you start to figure out who you are, what you want, and what your calling is. I believe know God didn’t create us the way we are for nothing.

On another note, I have found a new stress release: digital scrapbooking! I can’t remember how I landed in the scrapbooking side of the web, all I know is ever since that day, it has been a daily struggle controlling myself from buying scrapbook stuff with my paypal muneys (oh noes).

My favorite sites are: Little Dreamer Designs, Lily Pad, and this just in, Paislee Press (who’s responsible for all the cute PPs and elements in my new header, wee).

I think I may have a better future in digital scrapbooking than in SEO! :P

Credits: Paislee Press’ Photogenic and Alteredego Kits
& Words from Kendall Payne’s song, Not Afraid to be Me

Can I just say.. I didn’t realize I’d have such a rewarding time getting to know myself until now.

P.S. Oh, and thanks to The Rico for the unsolicited Photoshop and CSS tutorial. I needed it. :)

“I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love.” ~ Mother Teresa

I wish I thought of saying those words first.

I mean, blpht, I had my own “love sucks” and “love hurts” theories, which, I have to admit now, came out of bitterness and unavoidable hormonal imbalance. (Sorry naman!) And ugh, reading them now makes me think — that’s it? That’s the best you can say about love?

I’m envious of people like Mother Teresa who can say such beautiful words about love, and actually “live it”. Why is it so hard? Why, why, why?

I know she wasn’t just pertaining to romantic love. (Hey, it’s easier, I think, to love someone romantically.) She must have been talking about the kind of love that transcends logic and reason. Like loving the unlovable, or reaching out to your enemy, or forgiving someone who’ve hurt you deeply, or swallowing your pride to understand someone whom you thought is being unreasonable.

Ephesians 5:1 reads,

“Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave Himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”

Gulp.

It’s not an easy thing to do, this love. But love is a way of life we all have to learn to live. Even if it hurts.

No. Especially when it hurts.

(Hi, this is me, talking to myself again. Ktnxbye.)

Mom, Kuya Nate, Kuya Niks, and Lola

..and Kuya Nate’s pretty wifey Ate Imy :)
(Oh wow I finally have an older sister!)

I guess stuff like this happens when you’re an XX-chromosomed 25 year old (yes, just females), and you come home to a messy apartment, plates and pans from the past two nights’ dinner piled up on the sink waiting to be washed, and a hamper filled to the brim with dirty laundry waiting by your bathroom door. Sounds stressful, I know right. But hey, at this age, I still have the right to blame this on the hormones, right?

I have a bunch of chores to do, not to mention reports to finish, and all I can think of right now is how much I miss going home to a place where there are actual human beings to talk to or to have dinner with. I miss bossing my brothers around (no, wait, I think it’s the other way), my Mum’s lutong-bahay, Lola’s stories which I’ve heard about a hundred times already, and maybe some bonding time with my new (ehem) sister-in-law.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m loving this so-called independence, although not easy. In fact, I think letting me move out of the house three years ago is one of the best decisions my parents made to help me stand on my own feet. I’ve grown a lot since. I can cook my own dinner now (usually from a canned good or an instant pack, but still!), wash my own dishes (albeit every other night), clean after my own mess (once in a while), and pay my own bills (even though normally with delayed charges). I fail most times, I admit to that, but I wouldn’t learn even half of these things if I was still back home in Caloocan, spoiled brat that I was am.

I think missing my family is one of the things I *learned* from this quasi-independence, too. Growing up and having bigger responsibilities does make you value your family more, and appreciate what they’ve sacrificed to help you on your way.

Gone are the days when spending time with them is obligatory. These days, I’d grab whatever chance I get.

*The photos were from my brother’s wedding. Obviously. :)

Sure, I saw the Wollman Rink where Kate Beckinsale and John Cusack had their Serendipity moment. But when I was there in October, the rink wasn’t ready for skating, and the leaves wore dull shades of green.

Wollman Rink in October 2008

A few days after I left New York, Central Park bloomed with all sorts of Autumn colors, and Wollman Rink started to look like a totally different and magical place!

Taken by Mitzi, Autumn

A few more weeks later, winter came by and Wollman Rink sparkled with glittery snow.

Taken by Kuya Jojo, Winter

I was there at Gapstow Bridge too when it was surrounded by green.

Those yellowish leaves, no, they’re not drying up, they’re just under the sun. :P

And this is how it looked in Autumn. (Hi, Mitzi!)

Meanwhile, Kuya Jo captured Gapstow in a postcard-worthy winter moment.

I had my Serena moment by the Poet’s Walk

..when it was green all over.

While Kuya Jo took a picture of how it’s like in white.

The Bethesda Fountain can be really enchanting,

even in an ordinary day.

But look, it’s even prettier in Autumn!

And then there’s the Bethesda Terrace

..in October.

..and in December.

Spot the difference, yo! :)

Finally, this is how Bow Bridge looked like

..when I was there

..and when covered with snow.

That’s the thing with seeing familiar places in other people’s photographs. You try to recall how it’s like when you were there, and you get this warm fuzzy feeling inside because somehow you feel like you were once a part of that place (or that place a part of you.)

That’s kinda how I feel about New York. It’s a place you’d like to keep coming back to, even if it’s just in your head. I was there for just 6 short days, but I feel like I can relate to the pictures I see, somehow.

(I would have said the same thing about Sydney, but it’s not like I get to see Australian-made soap operas and teeny boppers on a normal day. Heh.)

I’m not sure when or how I’ll ever be back in NYC, but for the meantime, I have Google images, and Gossip Girl, and some friends’ multiply albums to keep me connected.

Central Park Winter Photos from http://agotjo.multiply.com/
Central Park Autumn Photos from http://mitzandres.multiply.com/