Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Vanilla, Vanilla

To use the words from one of our Motown hits over the weekend: "[Vanilla, Vanilla], I keep coming back to [Vanilla]..."

Ok, so I switched the words. But I meant to say the same thing. I do keep coming back to Vanilla.

I have always liked vanilla -- as an ice cream flavor, as a base-note for colognes and perfumes, as flavoring for gourmet dishes. Vanilla reminds me of what home should feel like. It conjures a picture of a comfortable stuffed armchair, a good book, a hot cup of cocoa, and a rainy day. It warms me up inside, and makes me feel that indescribable feeling in the pit of my stomach when I am utterly and absolutely...happy.

It's the way I feel when I wake up in the morning, and give myself a long liesurely stretch -- like a cat -- savoring that heady, and semi-woozy feeling in the head when I come out of it. It's that feeling of laughing out loud until you are doubled over in a ball, with tears streaming down your cheeks and holding on to that stitch on your side.

This is the ultimate feel-good feeling. It's the exact same feeling I have when I spend time with Vanilla. To add to my list of favorites, Vanilla is now a favorite friend, too. I feel at home with her. I feel like myself with her -- no pretensions, no excuses, no justifications for who or what I am.

I made a good choice. Pat on the back for me :)

Monday, October 27, 2008

Stretching the Altis

Yesterday was the Mrs. Salves' bebe's christening, and of course, we had to go. Even if it meant driving all the way to Pampanga.

It was one looooong road trip starting from ParaƱaque to Pampanga in the morning, then passing ParaƱaque again all the way to Tagaytay on the way back while playing (and dancing and singing to) motown/funk/OPM disco tunes all the way.

Why? Because it was a Sunday! And we were driving a rental. You know how a rental is -- the new-car scent that hits you when you open the door for the first time, the slippy-slidy feel of your fabric-clad bum on the new leather seat, the cold whiff of air from the air-conditioners, that no-bump ride courtesy of a brand new suspension, and the secure feeling of no break-downs/overheats/other fill-in-the-blank car troubles.

Alright, so the scent wasn't so new-car-ish; and the seats weren't leather, and I'm not even sure if it's the suspension that makes the ride smooth (hehe). But you have to admit, laughing out loud with close friends, making fools of yourselves by staging on the spot mini concerts, and the unlimited kwentos you had to catch up on is one of the best ways to spend an idle Sunday, and makes a 9-hour drive worth it! Well, plus the fact that I didn't have to do the driving :)

And our quote(s) for the day: "Do not sarwa! NEEEEEH!"

This is me, just posing with the car. No, I did't drive. But I did most of the singing and dancing :)

With the Vanilla, waiting for dinner to be served @ Leslie's in Tagaytay. (Stole this picture from her, because this is sooo much better than the one I previously posted here)

Friday, October 24, 2008

The Trouble with Blogs... that it's a compromise.

The blog is the modern version of a diary or a journal. The electronic world has taken over this very personal experience and art of writing. There are various reasons why a person would want to keep one. Most people want to keep a record of their history, maybe as a legacy. Some would like to preserve their memories, and relive them over and over again. While others keep them as a collection of life lessons to be handed down to their children or children's children, and so on (if the lessons of that time are still relevant).

Whatever the reason is, journal and diary entries are very personal and, most of the time, private. This is where the dilemma of publishing your thoughts in a blog comes in.

Between a journal and a blog, a blog is more convenient. Typing on a keyboard is so much easier than handwriting your words. And they look so much better with those fancy fonts you use -- a far cry from your chicken scratch.

A blog can be anonymous. Yes, your writing can be called up with just a few strokes of keyword combinations, but you can always hide behind a pseudonym (or pseudo-name, as Id like to call it) and fictional names of your characters. Not like a journal lying around can be traced directly to... you.

A blog is handy. You can pull out a new page and make a new entry virtually anywhere you are. You don't have to lug it around in your bookbag, and you don't need to carry a pen with you everywhere.

So why should this be a difficult choice? Because for all the same reasons as above, for all the convenience it brings, a blog is so blatantly "out there". Once you put your thoughts, your ideas and your feelings into an entry, they become public knowledge. Would you really put your most intimate secrets and most important opinions on a public site? Without getting paid for either?

What is the use of keeping an online chronicle if you hold back, anyway? So the way I see it, you do not hold back. And the fact that you don't hold back should be justified by either (a) because you are being paid for your writings, or (b) because you, as a diarist, have no sense of privacy or no respect for the art of writing at all.

I am neither. That is why I still keep a journal and a pen on a night table by my bed everynight.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

This Time Last Year...

I gave up coffee and cigarettes
I hate to say it hasn’t helped me yet
I thought my problems would just dissipate
And all my pain would be in yesterday

I poured my booze all down the kitchen drain
And watched my bad habits get flushed away
I thought that that would keep my head on straight
And all my pain would be in yesterday

But it’s true
I’m still blue
But I finally know what to do
I must quit, I must quit you

I thought that if I didn’t go and play
The sadness would get bored and go away
I thought that if I didn’t go astray
That all my pain would be in yesterday

But it’s true
I’m still blue
But I finally know what to do
I must quit, I must quit you

I sold my guitar and my piano
I thought that it was these that kept me low
I thought if only I could try and change
That all my pain would be in yesterday

But it’s true
I’m still blue
But I finally know what to do
I must quit, I must quit you
I must quit, I must quit you

- Michelle Featherstone

Monday, October 13, 2008

Nadia's Note