Above The Clouds

Every woman needs to see the whole world. Wild and Free. There is something almost magical about roaming the earth. In the air. Carried by the wind.

Need to say it was my first time to ride the airplane?

I flew to Cebu. No big deal. But it was the air travel that I enjoyed but fret the most.   Feels like I’ve changed and became more civilized. If anything, I don’t want to die unevolved.

The take off was hard. I have run out of tough and all that’s left me was a crumbling stomach. The small talk somehow saved me, gave me something to focus on. However I thought I kept internally crumbling while maintaining decent conversation with my two companions.

"Your home in the sky..."

Don’t even get me started on my throbbing ears. I couldn't even faked a yawn.

And as they say all the first times are memorable. First turbulence. First air pocket. They kept me constantly breaking into pieces, changing, spinning me towards the heavens and then hell the next.

This portion was smoking all through out..reminded of heaven.

You wouldn’t know it from the photos.

Half-way through the trip, I realized it’s a big world out there. And I was just a speck of dust. What must it be like to feel invisible to the world?

I'm feeling feelings that I can't adequately convey. They must be French feelings .. you know how the French have words that don't exist in English?

Mactan International Airport

Just pure awesomeness!

Crawling To The Voting Line

Note: Inspired by a post of fellow blogger Senyor Iskwater, I too have something to say.

Whenever I turn the corner onto that street and see posters and placards sticking out from the roofs of jeepneys all the way to light posts and street walls like obnoxious danger signs, I say uh oh here we go again. You see, I take this two lane road for much of the way to the train station and they are veritable indicators that yes indeed, it’s cirque-de-soliel time aka election. I see mini vans coming with loud speakers banging a campaign jingle ala Justin Beiber, and at my back, another amplifier with recorded campaign slogan.

It would be easy to just rant about the usual fanfare that erupts around this time like seeing a dancing mosquito mascot (aimed to boast a politician’s effort to rid dengue in our place), a wrinkled rooster (all because his last name is San Pedro. Pedro? Peter? crowing chicken? ) and a host of other seemingly science fiction characters from Gollum to Joker to Borta.

That’s only in our town. I am not yet talking about our national candidates.

But since in the spirit of altruism, allow me to do this rare serious, semi-activist type post to throw my two cents about how I feel about the whole thing. And I’m dispensing the pretenses right away and admit that it is only my opinion and have more to do with my own shallowness that it does with my genuine desire to help you pick the right people to roll in the government.

Oh Lord have mercy, where do I begin with these people. I’ll narrow the list to only two categories: will probably vote and will not vote. This includes personalities that are running for national seat in the government. So we see them on TV, newspaper, trash cans, candy wrappers, etc. etc.

Now on to the entry..

WILL NOT VOTE

Aside it being easier to talk about because it’s amusing and entertaining, these people are both preposterously funny and ridiculous at the same time. Their slogans extremely over-the-top, my brain can’t make the connections.

Patay gutom lang ang tingin sa atin haha!

Her PR people attempt to brand her as "Nanay sa Senado". Heaven help us. 

"I did not cheat. I am clean. I resigned. AND.I.AM.BACK!"

JV's first authored bill? "No To Dynasty"

At the next Upper House: mag-kapatid, mag-pinsan, mag-asawa. Need I say more?

If Franklin Drilon called another senatorial aspirant Jun Magsaysay, ang tunay na Magsaysay, then what is she?

will co-authored JV on No To Dynasty bill

WILL PROBABLY VOTE 

1. Allan Cayetano 
2. Grace Poe 
3. Loren Legarda 
4. Eddie Villanueva 

No long story to back this up. Probably because until now the list is still subject to change . You know me, my mind has tendency to wander at the best times.

::

And since the turnabout is fairplay, I have a question. Who do you all think should win?

Sometimes I Do Politics

For most of my life, April has not been a favorite, however I do fancy it’s clear, blue sky. April is beach and sand and sun burn. April is a spacious train ride to and from work. April is waking up late, longer break fast and TV time.

And this year, April is more hands to shake.

You know those campaigning politicians. I was sitting for a good 30 minutes, talking and laughing with neighbors and not too long came a parade of politicians one after another. And since election came every 3 years, and I get to meet local officials once every 3 years too, I was almost sure I got entertained looking, talking, teasing them with sheer and unbridled enthusiasm. Boy, don’t they look so cool to vent and poked fun at. But of course I can try and fool myself that I was able to make fun of them, knowing that politicians are already used to swearing around, talking around and lying around.

And while I was telling myself to never see a senatorial candidate from as far as Palawan, I saw Hagedorn.

Hagedorn? you know underground river, tubbataha?...moustache? Yeah that's Hagedorn. 

I thought his face hair looks funny.

I am actually not a politics person. I don’t have any political record. I don't even have anything to back up my claim on how to survive election campaign period. But since I am a legitimate voter of this country, and have survived 13 elections already, I can probably add to your election-survival scheme.

That is,

If you’re a campaigning politician:

1. Wear a vest with your name on it. The one that will make you look like a police reporter. It adds a fashion sense. 
2. Wear a toupee. Even if it looks so fake and ill-fitted. It gives you the impression that you can survive your 3-year term without frequent cardiac arrests. 
3. Come with a hoard of followers. It will make you look so important. And rich. 
4. Don’t shake hands looking and smelling like another dog(or cat or any other animal). This can be ground for disqualification. 

And if you’re just a plain citizen, you could have your head hacked by these people if:

1. You tell them they smell like dogs. 
2. You tell them their hair look fake and ask them straight about their age. 
3. You will not laugh at their dull jokes. 
4. You ask them for money.

 I'll admit that I'm being a little snarky here, so I'll finish by clarifying that there is no real and genuine"election survival plan"; if you fail to do any of these things, then you sir (or madam) are, in for a real trouble.

Don't tell me I didn't tell you.

The Reasons Why Thrifting Is Never Easy

Who is the one always harping about paying cash and staying within your budget?

Me.

Who is scared to go broke days before the payday?

Me.

I pass by department stores everyday to and from work and I see things I think I need but don’t buy. Things is, they are too pricey. Totally out of budget.

So where does a cost-conscious, penny-pinching person like myself go?

The answer is thrift store. Ukay-ukay or Wagwagan,

In hindsight I can tell you that, true to what I had mused about money and lack of it is in the post where I begged for Santa to pay off all of my loans, this choice fit the mold in that it was extremely difficult at the time but ended up being the right one. It’s hard to buy pre-owned stuff right? What if they wore by a dead person? I mean not when he was still alive but say, at his wake?

Oh well, I know they don’t change dead person’s clothing once already inside the coffin. So there really isn’t any chance that they’ll undress him and sell the shirt to a thrift store. But it’s me. I get scared and excited almost by the same things. Remember the post where I related the benefits of buying haunted furnishings and then blogged four days later why horror movies leave me like a zombie. Yes readers, that’s how I rock and roll.

There are so many reasons to love shopping here. For example, I could go on about the amazing P 65.00 never-been used swimwear I wore to the beach where I almost lost a child? The tag inside was still original. Or so I thought. I also got a green blouse for less than a hundred peso.

I wonder why green hangers are common in Ukay-ukay..

However, when you go in these places make sure you have at least 3 hours to haul mountain of clothes. Like you do in an ordinary department store, check for lose buttons, hems and linings. Watch out for the stains in the armpits, chest and other areas. Also you have to dust off before purchase. Forget the smell. Old clothes smell like old people.

These are extra pointers to think when you decided to visit these stores.

1. Know what you are looking for. Ukay ukay clothes come in rows and can be overwhelming. Have in mind the outfit or look you want to for before you go shopping. That way, getting that tie-dyed shirt, flare pants and hippe bad for your seventies retro look will be easier.
2. Have an eye for detail. Sometimes I do look for brands, since they come a lot cheaper than the ones sold in malls. However details are what make clothes interesting. Look for good one-of-kind-prints, delicate embroidery or unusual buttons.
3. Try it on. Always try on the outfits before purchase. Don’t rely on the size on the tag. It may already have stretched or shrunk. Also the L size before may be the S size today.
4. Be patient. You need a load of patience to go through every item if you want to snag a real find.
   
   
   
   And more importantly,
   
   5.Learn the art of haggling. Ukay-ukay stores give you price cuts on these grounds: its their “buena mano”(first sale), when you buy a lot of items, when the business is slow like during rainy seasons, and when you are makulit (persistent)
   
   ::
   
   Who else has thrifting story to share? It doesn’t have to be embarrassing- although that will earn you extra point for being branded as bakya, cheap, broke and well, jologs

Lest We Lost Them

He went missing for nearly half an hour…was not where he was supposed to be. I thought I lost him forever, thought I would never see him again and my whole body went heavy. I started panicking straight away. You know when your kid is missing and time moves like slow concrete and you think,

"This is it. I will never see him again."

Very hard to breathe.

Twenty minutes I walked around, calling his name. Started to cry, rushed out onto the shore shouting his name. Like, SHOUTING his name. All the possibilities exploding in my brain.

But just as we thought of calling the police, he was found. Was crying and frightened, said he was very hungry. A sort of mixed emotions rushed in.

Utterly, hopelessly in love with this guy so hard

"He's alive? Great. Now, I'm gonna kill him."

This happened last Friday, at the beach. Hubs, as usual, had a job to attend to and cannot afford to come. But I took the two children anyway and was hoping to end the day well tanned and relaxed.

He's only eight - almost nine. I give him freedom and trust, rules, boundaries, jobs. I tell him ... I know it's hard being a kid. Sometimes I'm not such a great mother and I bend at the pressure of it all, this constant being in control of these humans that came out of my body.

So I’ve decided to take the kids in the pool instead. The whole beach seems such a huge place to look for a lost child. In the pool I could always jump to the water for him, or yell or shout like crazy in case he get to the deep area.

When you have children, that's the main thing anybody wants to know:

"Are they good children?" Over and over again. Ended up telling everybody that my children are precious, no matter how naughty and badly behaved they are some days. They pull me up and out every time.

But the thing is, you don't choose your family. Life chooses them for you.

I hope my children grow up and die old.

I hope they will be best mates.

I hope they live big, real, fruitful, rich lives full of laughter and pain and heartache.

I hope if they do get lost in the jungles of life, they know their way home.

::

Do you have a lost child story? Can anyone relate?