movie date gone awry

So much for Twilight. I forgot that I am no longer in NY. I am in fact in the backwaters of hell and the movie won't be in theatres till Wednesday. Till then, I'll be doing some serious thumb-twiddling.

delinquent

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Haven't been religiously writing. I haven't even written anything for my newspaper column too. I am just bumming around, contemplating about my life, and basically living in my pajamas for the past two weeks. Been reading a lot too. Voraciously. Like a thirsty camel guzzling gallons of water for the impending long desert journey.

I've got so many things lined up though for the next four weeks. I will definitely catch that Salvador Dali exhibit at the MoMA and I'm looking forward to the Van Gogh one in the 3rd week of September. Then I have to go to Soho since I haven't been there ever since I arrived here (and it's supposed to be one of my favorite NYC spots).

I'm also preparing for a one week trip / adventure. Might as well go to another country while I'm here in North America... And my sister has invited me to go to Philly, so that too would be part of another adventure. Definitely, I'll make up for the sluggishness of my existence these past few, unremarkable days.

Then I will be back to where I belong. I can't wait.

yippee! David Cook!

Yippee! David Cook! What else can I say? It's time for the MAN to win. Young, pleasant, wholesome Archuleta please exit to the backstage please -- for now. You'll have your time when you grow up little boy.

smoky eyes and lemon pie

Four days into my self-imposed holiday and I'm bored out of my skull. In between watching Jamie Oliver and Giada De Laurentiis, there's really nothing much to do but cook. So far, I've whipped up a mean zitti with sausage, basil, and tomatoes (my own recipe); a Shaker lemon pie where I had to wrestle with an uncooperative pâte brisée; and a pot of steaming pancit molo (which is a kind of beef dumpling soup); Today, I'm planning to make corn pudding.

Aside from slaving in the kitchen, I've been learning how to put on eye make up. Last night I did the smoky eye effect using black and gray eye shadow and I feel pretty smug because it actually came out really beautiful and dramatic (as opposed to looking like somebody hit you with a non-stick frying pan on both eyes -- yes, perhaps that could happen!).

I know I looked fine after the make up tutorial because Zaki just looked at me and yawned. Ripley did a double take but thereafter screamed "make-up, mommy!", which I assumed was an adamant request from a 2 year old to look 20 years older. My ever supported husband on the other hand just said, "That looks nice, babe." To which I replied, "I thought you hated make up." To which he replied, "Make-up is okay, it's jewelry that I hate." There's nothing more heartwarming than knowing that your family supports you -- yes, even with utterly trivial matters like eye make-up.

Next on my agenda is reorganizing my closet and packing. I've been putting off the latter for days now, but I guess, I have to start by taking my gigantic luggage out of the dusty plastic bag under my bed. Never mind the details of my trip, but it's going to be bittersweet and full of hope, that I'm sure of.

on cruise control

I know when I’m in a rut when I spend five straight hours just looking at the blank computer screen and spend another six hours googling and still come up with absolutely nothing to write about. The title above does not in any way bamboozle you to think that this article is about you-know-who, a.k.a that guy who jumped up and down Oprah’s couch without regard for the upholstery and the creepy guy declaring his undying love for Scientology in a Youtube video. This article is actually about the fact that I’m in a deep rut. Yeah, as in majorly deep.

You know when you’re in a rut when you do the exact same things you did the day before and the day before the day before. Don’t worry, that’s not a typo error, it’s just me trying to make a point. “I’m in a rut” is another way of saying “I need to go out more often”. These days, “going out” for me means wearing “mom shorts” (shorts with minimal leg exposure) to buy my groceries. At this point in my life, I just don’t see the point of partying, or of primping up to drink coffee at some wi-fi ready café when I can go to the kitchen and drink all the coffee I want until I get palpitations.

But see, there’s a downside to my anti-social behavior. I realize now that because of my hermit-like existence, I’ve pushed myself to the point of ultimate boredom. I’m not experiencing enough variety, change, and excitement in my life, and for a writer, this could be very dangerous (unless I decide to write the obituaries). For a blogger, this could result in blank pages and skipped entry dates. And for a single woman, it’s tantamount to joining the nunnery (although that would probably be a better option than marrying some imbecile guy – check out my column last week). Thank God I’m married, but as for being a writer and a blogger, I think that at this point, I’ll probably be needing more than just a bottle of vodka and a medical degree (a la Chekhov) to take me out of this writing rut. I think I need to get myself a “life”.

How does one get a life? Here are a few suggestions for people who, like me, find themselves driving on cruise control. If you’re bored with eating hot pandesal for breakfast with your coffee, go for day-old bread, dump the decaf and go barako. If you’re a fashion victim and your 4-inch stilettos are giving you hematomas, who says you can’t go barefoot? Tired of driving to work and looking for parking? Take the jeep, a pedicab, or hitchhike. If you hate Friendster because you think it’s the work of the devil but all your friends seem to love it, hell, create a MySpace account and find new friends. If you’re spending too much time online (like I am), I advise you to shut down that computer now and go out into the real world where real people live.

There are of course, a thousand more we can do to escape from the rut that we’re in. But the first step to freedom is acknowledging that we have a “rut problem”. The next step is of course to find ways to “exterminate” the problem (there is nothing punny about bad puns!). Now if that involves adding some cheese to your salami sandwich, go ahead. Just get a life!

-- the above article was written for my column. I'm posting it here because I'm too exhausted to write anything new -- hey, I'm in a rut, remember?

it's a rainy monday morning

I woke up at 3 am and had trouble going back to sleep. It's past 6 in the morning and I'm still awake. It's raining now and this would have been the best time to snuggle in bed under a thick blanket but instead I'm up and about. I guess I'm just apprehensive, as hubby and I are having major adjustments in our daily schedules (work related, obviously). Let's just say that this year will definitely prove to be both interesting and exciting. So many new things are happening and I know all our sacrifices will eventually pay off. My 5 year-5 step plan is already at work and I can hear the wheels of our lives turning in the right direction.

the blahs

There are just days when you just want to sulk and vegetate. Ah, the blahs. Today is just one of those days when both the weather and my hair refused to cooperate. A typhoon was supposed to hit this side of the pacific, but fortunately, it decided to go some place else. My 2nd grader whooped with joy of course, because classes were suspended. Genius me didn't even bother to call the school, so I drove all the way to Assumption braving the blasted rain, traffic, mud, and potholes only to be told to go home by the guard.

To add to my agitated state, my kid's barber also didn't show up at the appointed time and I had to entrust my son's hair to some stranger who apparently had a deep affinity for his electric shaver. My son was looking at me with panic-stricken eyes when Barber X almost zinged his left ear. It wasn't entirely a disaster, Zak didn't lose any of his vital external organs or anything (or I would have shaved X's head and pounded him with the razor) but I know his hair would have been cut better if his old barber did it. The thing is, I just wanted him to look neat and handsome for his Holy Communion this weekend.

Gosh, how time flies. 8 years ago I was deciding whether I'd let the doctors do a circumcision just a day after I gave birth to him (so sue me I did let them do it. I blame it on the epidural still muddling my brains at that time. But I know he'll thank me someday for that for sparing him the agony and the embarrassment...) and now Brends and I are attending spiritual enrichment seminars for parents. Ah, parenthood. I get warm fuzzy feelings just thinking about my kids.

But I digress. Back to the blahs. I'm currently working on a magazine cover story and my visit to the printer to do some lay-out corrections didn't really work out too well. I had a major blockage in that part of the brain responsible for the realm of creativity. The layout sucked. Even old issues of Vogue couldn't help me out of the artistic rut that I was in. Diana Vreeland, where art thou? I must have forgotten to drink my morning coffee... which also explains why I'm having a massive migraine attack right now.

The thing about the blahs is that it isn't a permanent state of mind and being. If everything seems hopeless today, remember that tomorrow is always another day. Have a great day y'all.