After Typhoon Haiyan.

On a side note, I hate it when people say, “Oh, you must have had a hard life,” (emphasis on the HARD) and look at me with pity after I mention that I am from the Philippines. Puh-lease. I had a great life while I was there, I love it more than any country in the world, and if it were not for certain circumstances in my life, I would rather be home right at this very moment. Not everyone is destitute and we are not an unhappy people. We certainly gripe and complain a lot less than people I’ve met in more developed countries because we know how to work hard but live life to the fullest at the same time.

I miss packing up yummy homemade food for a day-long trip to the beach for free (or a small sum), having great meals at a fraction of the cost of a fast food takeout here, my mother’s sinigang na boneless bangus, going to some of the biggest and greatest malls in the world that are one-stop shops for everything you need, hearing people speak the same expressive language you speak, getting super fresh seafood, eating baskets of the most luscious mangoes on earth, sorbetes ice cream, taho, jeepneys and trikes (I know, right!), living a few hours from places that remind you of paradise, and many many more. I took a lot of things for granted before I realized that I could not experience them here unless you spend an ungodly amount of money for a trip or a cruise.

There is a reason why people who have worked abroad for most of the year clap when the plane lands in NAIA. Someday, I will take my husband and retire there. We still have a lot of things to do here in his home country but we will eventually go (to my) home.

The DOT was right, It is more fun in the Philippines.

What to Wear

Ten years ago, I would stand in front of the mirror and decide what to wear the next day every single night. Don’t get me wrong, I was NOT fashionable. I didn’t have a lot of money — I spent most of my college allowance on books (duh!), food (double duh!) and, again, food. My clothes and shoes consisted mainly of basic items and the only relatively pricey and brand name items I had were the ones given to me by my parents. I also had major body dysmorphic disorder. I felt fat and extremely unattractive and this affected my self-confidence and poise.

So whenever I stood in front of the dormitory mirror every night, it wasn’t because I was a vain, teenage SOB. I was just thinking of a way to not look too pathetic the next day.

Ten years later, THANK GOD that I’m cured of that. I was not skinny as I was in college. (WHY did I ever think that I was FAT?!) But I don’t feel unattractive anymore. I don’t feel self-conscious. I’ve also realized a few years ago that trendy does not mean fashionable. Fashionable is wearing what suits you. And even if that darling dress looks wondermous on a size zero, six-foot tall model, it doesn’t mean that it would look just as fantabulous on your size 4 or 6, 5’4″ body.

Know your body. (Even if you feel fat.) Wear what suits you.

Now… what should I wear tomorrow?

I’m fat. Grrrrr. Yes, it’s one of those days.

I stubbornly insisted that I didn’t know who or what the eff Led Zeppelin was and I didn’t care. And that Joe Perry and Buckethead were guitar gods as far as I was concerned. When I was told that no self-respecting American would not know who Led Zeppelin is, I instantly growled “I’m not American, dagnabbit!”

And then I was forced to listen to it. With particular stress on Jimmy Page’s guitar solo. And you know what? I liked it.

I need a studio

The second room needs to be cleared out. First, we need to get rid of that monster of a TV unless Chris decides to leave it there permanently. Then there’s the bike. I can probably shove it into a corner. *sigh* Perhaps I should have had my hubby buy me one of those fold-able bikes that are so much easier to ride. Third, should the man-fridge stay there or not? It seems to be better if it were more accessible, like if it’s in the living room.

I badly need a studio. Right now, I’m working on a sketch of Shelby with my massive easel by the bed. My tools are close by — the little, counter-height table is crammed with my laptop, a mug stuffed with pencils, a few charcoal sticks, a kneaded eraser, a regular eraser, brushes for smudging.  As for me, my bum is parked on the bed itself and I’m trying to ignore the fact that I’m losing circulation in my legs. Our bedroom is tiny and most of the free space is dominated by the computer table.

I need my own space.

I need the well-lighted room.

I need a place where I won’t drop bits of charcoal on my lovely, deep red sheets.

Basically, I need office space. This art thing is not just a hobby, this is also my second job. The job that I like to do after my day job that pays the bills. Granted, I am just starting so it’s not like I’m earning loads of money from it but everyone has to start somewhere. Hell, even McDonald’s had humble beginnings.

I have my equipment, a box full of flashy fuchsia, black and gold business cards, and a mind full of so-called talent that I inherited from my Dad. So please help me earn some moolah or just simply like this page:

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What am I working on right at this moment? (Aside from writing this post, of course.) Shelby:

2013.01.19 working on shelby

I’m not even half done. Hell, I’m not even 1/4 done! But it’s not bad for someone who suffered from a 10-year artist’s block.

Pick me up at 7:30. – Tiffany (Silver Linings Playbook)

Possible the funniest, quirkiest, and most dramatic response to a not-really-date invitation.

Grrrr… BMI

For the past 2 months, I’ve been eating like a monster. Or a professional football player, whichever is worse. I’m still not fat, I can still wear a swimsuit without being an eyesore to the public. But I’m not very  happy with my BMI.

I’ve always had an issue with this BMI thing. I’ve always been heavy, probably because I’m big-boned (this is not an excuse, I really am!), compact, and tightly put together. Even when I was in college, I was the heaviest girl in PE class — heaviest, not fattest — and I had to use bigger weights compared to girls twice my girth. I’m not very tall either, just 5’4″ and I’m a healthy size 6. If you look at me, I look like I’m at least 10 pounds lighter. But because of this trait that I inherited from both sides of the family, my BMI will forever be screwed up. This is why I’m not aiming for a 19 and I decided that I’m going down to a 22 instead. I don’t have a scale because I refuse to bow down to the tyranny of constant weight obsession that strikes many females in this unfortunate thin-centric society! Which is why I’ll concentrate on size now. My target is to go down to at least a size 4, the BMI and weight should follow.

No, I’m not going to start eating rabbit food. But I will try not to snack on unhealthy things and stay away from candy bars and cakes. The occasional indulgence is okay but only in moderation! No more second servings. Instead of big, complete meals, I’ll snack the whole day, eating small servings 4-5 times. I did this before and it really worked. And, most importantly, I need to increase my physical activity. I promise to walk my fat dog everyday so we can both lose weight.



I posted this on my Facebook but it’s too funny to not memorialize it on my bloggy. With the assistance of my husband’s Instagram, I present… LE DUCKFACE.


I spent the last 10 minutes laughing at myself because I HAD to, at least once in my life, make this godawful pose before the Yolos are driven off the face of the planet in the upcoming Yolocaust. So for those who think duckface is cute, trust me dears, you probably look as ridiculous as I do.


Face your fears.

Everyone says that. In this day and age of arrogant millennials, escapism is the lowest of the low because it supposedly shows that you do not have the strength of character to, well, face your fears. *sniggers* Why do I find this so funny? I don’t fear anything at the moment, although I do have a few frustrations multiplying in the backyard.

I did not just try to “face” my frustrations. I aggressively did everything I could until the only thing I could do now are:

Frustration #1: Accept. Everyone knows that it’s very easy to blame someone who is absent. Realize that opinions of most people really do not matter.

Frustration #2: Wait. I have a deadline, probably the most important deadline of the year. I really need something approved because everything is hanging on that particular approval. I did what I needed to do but now the only thing I can do is be patient.

Frustration #3: Act. Ten or fifteen pounds do not disappear by magic or by wishing it away.

So while I’m peacefully accepting the way of the world, waiting with admirable patience, and virtuously avoiding snacking, what am I supposed to do? I can do my sketches and practice painting. Or I can play Heroes of Might & Magic VI.

But… I do have a charcoal portrait due on Wednesday. My fledgling career as an artist (naks!) is more important than satiating my gaming desires. Maybe later, Heroes.

The Oaf Talks About Christmas

I was told off for not even talking about Christmas. So… where will I start?

  • Accidental Ateneo tree: cute white tree, blue and silver balls, multi-colored lights and a pile of prettily wrapped-and-ribboned boxes underneath.
  • Three-course Noche Buena dinner for two.
  • Great gifts. I waxed poetic about my husband’s gift in previous posts. As for me, I got a lot of painting equipment and supplies. Yay!
  • *cough* Visa/Amex gift cards are a girl’s best friends.
  • Gag gifts. Hmm. I thought my PMS kit (vodka, pads, menstrual pills, and chocolate) was the bomb but Chris and I literally got a shitty deal — toilet paper, air freshener, and a box of used enema.
  • And, last but not the least, this pic:

Chris holding the tiny Swiss Army knife buried inside the big box.

Belated Merry Christmas, peeplets, and a have a wondermous New Year!


p.s. Please make your resolutions realistic this time. Just like mine: have a bodacious bikini bod by June.

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