And Listen to the Music of the Night

As for my taste in music, it's quite singular. My knowledge in almost everything that I consider myself an admirer of is disappointingly limited. Still, I'll attempt to talk about the kind of music I appreciate, albeit in hopes of not appearing a smart aleck but simply stating the facts.  

Chiffon top: Mango | Skirt: Zara | Necklace: from bazaar area in Festival Mall | Shoes: Zara | Flower ring: Mango | Watch: Anne Klein

Unlike most of my friends, the songs I listen to are not eclectic. Sure, I sing along the songs of Taylor Swift and Katy Perry but I am definitely the least person in the room to be asked to plug in her iPod to the system for everyone else to hear. See, I am more of the broadway musical junkie but certainly not because I deem my taste superior to others but because had I been blessed with a powerful voice, I would have pursued a career in theater. Songs come alive when they are listened to in person, whilst the singer is in character, and whilst an orchestra serves as the accompaniment. Since I hardly have the voice, I settle with constant listening to these songs. 

Perhaps an excessive devotion to Murakami's books led me to seek out the classical songs he keeps finding metaphorical representations in that's why lately, all my Youtube searches are compositions of Mozart's, Beethoven's, Bach's, and Tsaichovsky's. I haven't completely been convinced that I should declare them 'my jam' as of yet because to be completely honest and stripped off of the snobbish air, I haven't 'lost myself' in them yet. Then again I am particularly fond of Mozart so much so that I have entertained the thought that should I have a son one day, I might make his second name either Amadeus or Wolfgang (his principal name must start with a 'G'). One of my favorite films of all time is Milos Forman's Amadeus and since then, I have sought out other works, preferably in literature, that would shed a few more light on the person of the great composer. I've read half of Nancy Moser's Mozart's Sister but despite being gripped by the story, I had to stop because it was only later on that I read the author's forenote stating that although the events that were recounted were factual, a handful of it left gaps that she filled in as best as she could have done with her imagination. I couldn't read an account, even as fascinating as this book, with the goal of knowing facts when the novel's aim was to entertain. (On this note, I am truly to happy to have been born and raised in our times, where gender no longer becomes a measure of a person's success. Nanerl Mozart would have been great, perhaps even as great as the charming Wolfie.) While on my search of Mozart's compositions, I came across his operas. I haven't tried watching a full-length opera nor have I seen one even in Youtube that's why I can't say it's a genre I'll enjoy but I have listened to some arias and a few Puccini and Pavaroti to conclude that for 5 full minutes, this genre can hold me captive. I'll try to watch an entire 2-hour show and see if I can still say the same. 

Jed Madela's rendition of Nessun Dorma from the opera Turandot. 

It was only early this year when my Mom bought us tickets to watch her favorite Filipino artist on stage but the moment she learned he has a series of shows entitled 'All Requests' lined up, she bought tickets again. Last night, we were in Music Museum to watch Jed Madela showcase his out of this world vocals. The photos show what I wore. It was my first time in that venue which, although has been the smallest concert venue I've been to, proved to be the most intimate. Jed Madela is really among the finest singers in the country. Plus points to him because his voice is suited for the likes of broadway songs. Maybe even after hearing him sing live for 50 times, I'll never tire of him. 

I think, classical music should be made available to everyone. After all, it's slowly seeping into the mainstream. Even 50 Shades of Grey's Christian Grey name-dropped almost all the popular compositions. (Can anything get more mainstream than 50 Shades of Grey? Almost everyone I know has read it including those who never even touched a book previously Hahahaha). My favorite is written by Bach (Suite No. 3 in No. 3 in D Major especially the Air or second movement) but on a general level, I like Mozart's the most. Of course for beginners like myself who wants to educate herself with classical, baroque, and other early types of music, there's always Tom & Jerry for easier appreciation.

The title I used is from The Phantom of the Opera's Music of the Night.

The Book Challenge

Taking photos all on your own with only the camera's timer to help you is very stressful, I found out. I had no choice but to take my own photos as everyone else was in a hurry. Then again it was my fault that I had to press the button on the camera then run in front of it to smile, then repeat the process for approximately 3 minutes until I had to ride the car. Oh the stress I put myself under for documentation purposes... Anyway here is what I wore for my cousin Rayne's birthday celebration with the family.


Top: Penshoppe | Swimwear used as tube top: Anemone (While on my usual strolls in Powerplant Mall, I entered this swimwear-shop and was surprised at how creative and body-appropriate all the pieces there are. The designs are too cute that even though I put myself on a shopping ban, I can't help but get a few pairs) | Skirt: Zara | Peacock necklace and peacock ring: from Macau | Hearts ring: Accessorize | Watch: Anne Klein | Tom & Jerry bracelet: toy in Kinder Joy (My cousin Rayne was eating her favorite drugstore chocolate and inside one of the Kinder Joys was this bracelet)

I don't want to cheat myself out of this post by letting myself babble just to come up with a decent read when I don't really have something worthwhile to share so instead I'll just respond to my friends Kim and Jeanne's book challenge. (Sorry guys, I'd rather post here than on Facebook. Thanks for the tag though!)

As a rule, I was not supposed to overthink the books I'll include on the list but since I use Goodreads app, it was easy for me to single out 10 books that made an impact on me.

1. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde- I believe everyone of us have something that we're willing to bargain for with the devil himself. The battling facets of my personality are personified by the characters in the novel.
2. My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult - Picoult has one of the best writing styles that I'll never fail to be in awe of. Also, all her stories delicately traverse between the supposedly mutually exclusive aspects of emotional writing and factual writing.
3. Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami - It still baffles me how a book that did not completely make sense to me render me speechless but leave me feeling as if a heavy burden has been lifted off of my shoulders. It also showed me that although an extensive vocabulary can go a long way, a common word that was given a loaded and metaphorical substance instantly ceases to be common.
4. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - Sherlock's adventures with Dr Watson displays how a brain that functions much advanced compared to the average, albeit ruling in number, minds have both advantages and disadvantages. And that in a world as cruel as ours, having an advanced brain is slightly skewed towards what constitutes the person's ultimate weakness.
5. The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera - It delves with the very same philosophical questions that remained unanswered even after I took up my Philosophy class under Gojocco. On average, it's a rather short novel but compared to other 500-page and above books I've read, this took longer for me to finish. Stumbling upon a character who seems to be an extended version of one's self is both frightening and intoxicating.

6. The Book Thief by Markus Zusak - The most reverberant idea that the book left me is that, there is power in words. A person who can win a crowd with only words at his disposal has power within him far greater than he initially thought he has. It was this novel that made me see it wasn't always Hitler's guns and armies that killed millions but his words. (Read the rest HERE)
7. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë - I've always had a soft spot for all the firsts.  Although I started reading because of Archie comics, different fairy tale books, and Geronimo Stilton, my first leap in a more mature genre was with this novel. And at that time, I kept thinking that there's a madwoman hidden inside the house whenever something went awry.
8. Growing Up Bin Laden by Jean Sasson with Omar and Najwa bin Laden - It was an embodiment of contradiction. I've written quite a brief yet concise view of this before. As I tend to plagiarize my ownself every now and then, I'm doing it again now. (Read the rest HERE)
9. The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman - I don't really know who the target market of his works are but I do know that Gaiman is among the masters in fantasy literature. He turns childhood nightmares into adult fears. Just as Lettie Hempstock stuck in his mind for years, I can't extricate her from my consciousness even after months have passed since I finished the book. Also, I wear socks to sleep eversince because I fear a worm might find its way into my heel too.
10. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by J.K. Rowling - Stories like Harry Potter's and JRR Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings fascinate me not because of the plot and the unifying theme although they can hold a strong argument all on their own but because the author created an entire new world. Harry Potter will be one of those books that I'll require my future children to read, no exceptions.

I'm tagging everyone who's actually read the list! 

Write the link so I can read them in the comments section :)

Ladies Who Do No Wrong: Chiara Ferragni

If I can have it my way, I'd rather be strutting around the globe in designer outfit from head to toe, with my entourage in tow. To me, this idea could only be a distant dream that I won't even try to catch but to Chiara Ferragni, it's the life she's living.

You have to give it to her, in an industry where everyone is aesthetically pleasing and their income coming from an influx of products who wish to 'dress you', 'feed you', or just 'use you' thereby making it difficult to to decline a sponsorship even if the product doesn't represent who they really are, she has been successful in tapping into a niche market. Let's give credit to her then boyfriend Riccardo Pozzoli (this is an attempt at my part to drop his name as he is absolutely deserving of the commendation as well. Not to mention he and Chiara used to be my favorite blogger couple) who's one half of the brain that strategically planned where Chiara's career as a blogger should pan out. Whereas other bloggers are non-discriminative of brands, accepting whatever comes their way, Chiara Ferragin (with the help of Pozzoli) concentrated on targeting the high-end market. She dressed herself in designer stuff, which seems ostentatious to others, that eventually everyone who are someone in the designer labels industry welcomed her presence. Furthermore, her importance was acknowledged.

Here is the living Barbie doll of the blogging industry:

All photos from theblondesalad.com

Treated As Underdogs

... or simply overlooked?

Inner tube top: People Are People | Top: Mango | Pants: Zara | Shoes: Dorothy Perkins | Bangles: Aldo | Headband: Girlshoppe

I'm probably making the proverbial mountain out of molehill when I confronted my cousin's teachers because they didn't inform her that a certain dress code has to be observed for an elocution contest where she has been chosen as contestant. Here's the thing. (It's getting boring to keep on iterating this fact but for emphasis' purposes, allow me.) I only have two first cousins in the country. 3 are in Canada, 3 in US, and 2 in Aussi so it is no wonder that I spoil those whom I'm physically closest to. I absolutely adore my cousin Rayne to the point that I'm making her an extension of myself, sort of like my mini-me. By that I mean I'm willingly passing my queen brat throne to her. By that I also mean when she wants something, be it a toy, dress or a pair of shoes, she has to have it probably not at once but definitely eventually, provided it's within a reasonable time. I'm her cousin, not her mother, so I'm sorry but I'm not really out there to discipline her. Haha! Imagine how a budding 'brat' would feel if she finds herself amidst a group of 19 other kids dressed in their best Filipiniana costumes while she's only in school uniform. I feel so sad for her especially as I'm the reigning best in Filipiana costume when I was in elementary, all thanks to my grandmother who's a seamstress. Year after year after year, she makes me an outstanding gown which I proudly wear. (I'll look for my photos and then perhaps blog about them someday!) Rayne called me up after her contest and told me she feels sad because 'the girls are wearing beautiful dresses'. To compensate for her sadness, I immediately sought out a Queen Elsa dress that would match her 12-year old frame despite being only almost 6 years old, for her to wear on her advanced birthday celebration in school. I believe that every girl should have a chance to redeem herself, royally and unforgettably. 

I think I take things too personally when it comes to people I consider important to me (which, to be perfectly honest, only consist of a few). Sometimes I fight battles on behalf of a friend who has been wronged even though I am in no way involved in it (I think this is why I used to dislike a certain person in HS. She's so much like me actually and I believe we could've been great friends given that she's as opinionated and as 'cunning' as me but she has wronged three of my friends then). I'm not a war-freak nor do I instigate anything but I'm good at retaliating. I've had my entire childhood as training grounds, you see. When you have brothers for siblings, there's no room for girly girly retaliations. It's either all out war (or wrestling can do) or all out crybaby (or a good tattletale. My parents normally take my side) Hahaha!

When an underdog rises to the top, it's laudable. When an underdog finishes up last, it's understandable. It makes me wonder, is it alright to be considered an underdog? Doesn't it imply that when a person is touted as an underdog, it's because he's never viewed as a strong contender? That the person is not a threat; probably the last person in the room to be considered as the winner? Perhaps my reasoning is faulty but I've never wanted myself to be an underdog. I'm an all-or-nothing person, remember? 

I dedicated my entire Wednesday to accompany Rayne in the daycare center. I had to make sure she feels good and happy this time. Of course wearing a gown (with matching cape pa yun, look closer!) wouldn't make it all better, assuming that she's becoming my child version. A few more gifts and equally impressive tokens in loot bags did the trick. Here are a few photos of her and her friends. She's not the eldest in her Preparatory class, believe me!

The trick in appreciating an honest-to-goodness post such as this is untangling the actual truth from the sarcastic tone. I write to entertain. Haha!

The Inevitable Change

Change is inevitable. Growing up is inevitable. As much as I try to cement myself into place, I can no longer do it because my mind rebels against it. Perhaps I'm in the stage which Anaïs Nin succinctly put into: "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

Top: Mango | Culottes: Zara | Faux pearl bracelets: from Bangkok, Thailand | Necklace: Forever 21 | Shoes: Topshop | Bag: Coach

21 August had been declared a holiday which coincided with my uncle's second death anniversary. Just like what we did in his first year, we had the lunch catered in one of the function rooms of the columbarium. Instead of expecting 100 guests, we only prepared for 40 this time. 

Changes happen in either two ways - instantaneously or gradually. Between the two, I'm more wary of the latter. A series of events mean a series of doubting. I hate second-guessing myself because of all the emotions, it's self-pity that I detest the most. I'd rather face a catalyst that will blow a punch so hard it'll knock me off my balance than receive multiple jabs which would fracture not just a part but almost the entirety. I'm all for the one-time big-time kind.

There are certain things that I used to give so much importance to only to feel suffocated by them towards the end. Maybe everyone is right after all. There's no such thing as permanence. Trivial things that used to excite me no longer triggers even the slightest amused smile from me. Friends who I used to talk, plot silly plans, and hang out with no longer hold the same ideals as I do. Small talks which, as my homeroom teacher in High School and Income Taxation professor in college say, I'm good at keeping up with suddenly become energy-draining. Perhaps what's changed in me is the tolerance I have for everyone and everything. If before I have a wide reserve of it, now I categorize based on who's/what's taxing or not. I lack the energy to continue dealing with the former. Call me selfish or a selective picker, or someone who's stopped accepting others' BS, but I'm firmly standing on my recently found ground. Note that I'm particularly talking about circumstances or people whom I've already met. I haven't completely stopped wearing my rose-colored glasses in hopes of meeting others who'll inspire me and setting sights on adventures that will thrill me.


I'm so thrilled; my page statistics indicates that there are people in France who chance upon my blog! I implore your good souls to correct me should you see errors in my attempt at using your language every once in a while. (Oh see, may additional 2 readers na ako hahahaha) Je suis content de savior que il y a trop gens qui parle francais lu mon blog.


Obviously, I enjoyed myself too much in this set that there's been an excess of photos. Haha!

Two Lines Ended Into Flat Line

The smallest coffins are the heaviest.

Months ago, I slept over a friend's house. As soon as the lights were turned off, the silly jokes and equally silly gestures were replaced by an existential discussion. One of the topics we've covered was language, which at that time was very fitting as she was about to take Mandarin lessons in Shanghai for the next 6 months while I was contemplating on learning how to speak French (I didn't go to France to study unlike her though hahaha). We were wondering if language is an effective indicator of a person's intellect. We even went so far as recalling an internet article which described two tribes who both needed to accomplish a certain task. One was taught the word 'Left' while the other was left to its own devices. The latter remained as chaotic as it's always been while the former worked harmoniously until it's reached the finish line. We take them for granted but words contribute greatly to civilization. 

Tank top: Zara | Pants: Old Navy | Shoes: Aldo | Jacket: Gap | Bag: Kipling | Ring: Aldo | Necklace: from Bangkok, Thailand

Paramedics finished her text, "... love you."

If a single word like 'left' already rouses comprehension, then it must mean that a few words can tell an entire story. When Ernest Hemingway, as legends say, made a bet that he can tell a six-word story that could make anyone who's read it cry, and actually won such bet, I was challenged to come up with something as concise and vivid as his. But of course I'm only deluding myself. He's Hemingway and I'm just a pretend writer. Besides I'm too superfluous in speech that a question which is answerable with only a phrase begets a paragraph response. Case in point is the job interview that I've went to yesterday. I've been asked to return for a second time so the company's VP for Human Resources can interview me himself. (I intentionally dropped this information as up to now, I am still so fond of the VP. He made me wish I have a grandfather who'll spoil me rotten. He had been so accommodating and pleasant that he laughed at all the silly anecdotes he asked me to discuss. I can't recall any skeleton in our family's closet but I know for a fact that the only grandfather figure I can remember is my late great grandfather Amama. He's among the very few who thought I was beautiful - and would always tell me so every time my brothers would make me cry - even in my early adolescent years where the pictures prove I looked my worst. Hahaha!). 

Source

He bottle-feeds his wife's killer.

The title I used for this post is my attempt at conveying a story in six words. Didja like it, didja like it? I've a predilection for any story that ends with death upon an important character, remember? The two lines shown on a pregnancy test resulted into death of the mother, that is what I was trying to paint. I initially wanted 'Two Lines Caused Two Flat Lines' which implies that both the mother and child die, which then would somehow imply that abortion took place. At the moment, I'm not prepared to tackle my stand on so delicate a matter.

My cousin Rayne (who will turn 6 next month) and I in our matching Kipling bags.

I am a very talkative person who, just like everyone else, uses silence as the beginning of an offensive attack. What follows is a series of short sentences that I will load with psychobabble bullshits. I've to muster a laconic approach while ensuring that my wit, however minimal, is on point. When in a word war, brevity is a much loaded weapon. And then I'll finish with a maniacal laugh for a more powerful impact. Mwahahahaha

Did I get my point across or only my train of thought's tendency to wander?

A son abused. Another son abused.

All six-word stories from HERE

The Life That Matters

The problem with my generation is that, we are so good at pretending we are someone we're not that we end up deluding ourselves into thinking that we're better than who we actually are.

Sheer top used as dress: from my Lala | Belt: from Bangkok | Bead bracelets: from night market in Baguio | Bag: Juicy Couture | Inner top and cycling shorts: Yvonne's | Shoes: Zara

My grandmom's sister and her son who both live in Italy are in the country for a two-week vacation. Trying to communicate with my uncle whom I've seen in person for the first time is very difficult as he speaks only a little English. J'aimerais qu'il parle un peu française que l'anglaise. Parce que je veux pratiquer mon française. Mon petit peu 'knowledge' de francais. (If my sentences are grammatically incorrect, at least I hope the thought is there. Hahahaha) How do I translate my thoughts into comprehensible Italian phrases when my vocabulary is only composed of 'Ciao', 'Buon Giorno', 'gelato', 'grazie', 'cappuccino', and 'vino'? At least it's fun to teach them a few Filipino words during dinner as we enjoy a nice glass of white wine. If there's anything cool about the arrival of my Italian citizen relatives, it's that they bring the best tasting white wine to the table in every meal!

I have accumulated enough wrong decisions these past years that somehow I know I can't take making decisions lightly any longer. It's true what they say, after all. Decisions that we've come up with today will later on catch up on us. I've recently met up with my best friend whom I haven't seen in the last two months. (Thanks for the pasalubong from London, S!) We were talking about decisions as we are in the stage where weighty decisions have to be made. Chalk it up on our nature but we've agreed that although it's tempting to accept all the offers that come our way, we have to be discerning on which offer to ultimately accept. We were referring to job offers, by the way. I'm currently working for my father but I'm already seeking for employment in other companies where I can use the degree I've specialized in in college. I know I am not supposed to be finicky as I am practically inexperienced but I can't afford to jump on all the snail mails and e-mails that come my way as I don't want to waste the next years of my life in an environment where I would not fully thrive in.

I want to work for companies where excellence is the culture and mediocrity the disease. And then someday, once I've learned how to walk, perhaps I can fly.