A predisposition to never be that exposed, but maybe only by a tad? A desire to not be too seen, to be there, but not really be there, a choice to be social or anti, aloof or otherwise. Yes, dim lights.

What am I doing here, really? I’m here because the beach is here. The beach is calling me (cue in: All Saints’ Pure Shores). Arriving at the grand terminal two nights ago, with the weather comparable to that of windy, rainy, minus snowy, Chicago in February, with my evergreen everbright big backpack heavier than mine and Lia’s combined weight and an overnight bag packed with all that I might ever need, including cottonbuds, I asked myself that question. What am I doing here really?

I’m here because I am moving here, but more than that, what is in here that would want to make me actually move?

The first night whirred by, as we, in a scooter, visited bars one by one, eating and drinking as we go. I realized, clubbing works. I realized I must also be getting old. Loud music with frenetic teenagers stress me out. I always say, when asked what my genre is, folk and country.

I’ve been told my personality is more suited for the laid back. I was most at peace when I was living in the island, by the beach, where the crashing of the waves on the rocks soothed me, calmed my always near-to-frazzled nerves and my thoughts drowned in the wind.

Bar after bar we came and went and I was near to thinking whether I was actually willing to take the plunge into uprooting myself in the chaos that is Naga, the community bar that is Wharf, into moving to this city where I know less and less people and clubbing works, seemingly without fail.

Then we drove into near empty wide streets, that looked like Espana, only that it is empty, totally. Past the mall that tried its best to be like Mall of Asia, into the boulevard. The boulevard by the sea that actually led to…. nowhere, and I fell in love.

In the cold and dark, we followed that boulevard and…

I was reminded of Mui Wo – a little seaside village where the expats of Hong Kong lived with their families. Mui Wo with its carless streets and hundred-bicycle parking lot, leaving every morning and arriving every night – a ferry ride away from Central.

I was reminded of Rizal Boulevard in Dumaguete where the sun rose on jogging locals while expats watched in their al fresco cafes sipping French coffee, drinking German beer, munching croissants and English breakfasts.

I was reminded of the Partido Riviera, where the sky melted with the sea in an endless, partition-less blue. Where is the horizon, you ask yourself.

Here I can take long walks by the sea with my daughter who loves the water as much as I do. Who loves the wind on her face, the water lapping at her feet and all around her. Boats, I saw boats! Yes, I can live here.

Everything here will be better. Everything here will be better with my daughter.

Why am I moving here? Because I want a simpler life. Because I want a life where I can spend mornings walking down this seaside boulevard with my daughter, to come home only to make breakfast and take her to an international school, working in the office right by where her school is as I wait for her to come out – flushed with joy from playing with friends and learning all kinds of stuff she would want to make something out of when she is older – like numbers, colors, letters and sounds.

This year is going to be different, only because this year is going to be for her and for me, and no one else. This year is not going to be for the employees of Bar W and their concerns, whether they get to keep their jobs or not. This year is not going to be for the musicians, whether they get to keep their venue or they put extra efforts in finding a place and a crowd. People will always put their own interests first, I better put mine first too. This year is not going to be for anything other than going back to the basics. This year is going to be for doing what I love most – and that is being a mom.

I woke up to peer through the stained glass windows and the pelting rain into the dark of what looked like vast expanses of watery rice fields and I knew instantly I had slept too long. I checked the time – five o’clock. Sleepy and not knowing where exactly was I, I decided it was best that I get off in the town proper, whatever town that happened to be.

I entertained the thought of getting off at the port but I looked at my boys and decided, maybe next time.

I got off the town proper, still not knowing what town, and walked under the eaves of the line of sari-sari stores shut at five past on a rainy Saturday morning until I found a sign. It read:

Ocampo Elementary School

Darn it. I was in the next town.

I waited until a bus with a sign that said “NAGA” came down the empty road. I boarded the bus, empty, and asked how much the fare to Pili was. The conductor said P12. I had the urge to laugh maniacally but was successful in restraining myself.

I fought the urge to fall back to sleep as I sat there looking down on my boys, lest I found myself waking back in the Naga City Central Bus Terminal, nearly 30 kilometers away.

I kept my eyes peeled until the fields, the trees, the houses, the stores became more and more familiar, and the buildings, somehow became bigger and bigger – until there came looming the bright huge 7-11 sign.

I wished I had taken a tricycle straight home for P150. The driver always wakes me up when we get to MY town (and not the town after it.) Wait, neither bus driver nor conductor woke me up. Tsk!

I found my Pops sitting on the rocking chair in the balcony when I finally got home at six in the morning. I trudged up the stairs without bothering to take off the boys. Hell, our house is dirtier inside than outside, I thought. I, finally, take off my boys – my favorite pair of cowboy boots, and stumble into the bed I have been sleeping on since I was thirteen. Ah, the life in the province, how I wished it was not as adventurous.

We took a pedicab to we didn’t know where…. until I had this funtastic idea!

“Is that store in the old Benjie cinema still open at this time?” I asked the pedicab driver. He said it closed at eight.

When we got there, the guard was already closing some of the display windows. Apparently, they close at seven thirty, and Lia and I barely made it!

We walked in and Lia and I went silly crazy! Coz we’re silly crazy like that!

By the entrance was a row of colorful plastic flowers! Lia loves flowers. Actually, she only loves them because she loves giving them to me. Flashback to that fight she and her cousin Marielle had over these plastic flowers on a vase at my dad’s house. Lia has made a habit out of taking the flowers out of the vase and giving them to me. She wants to see me holding them with my hands, and preferably near my chest, if not on top of it when I am lying down.

So on this one afternoon when my eldest sister and her daughter were at my dad’s house, Lia took the flowers and gave them to me. Her cousin took the flowers, which were lying on top of my chest, and says, “This is mine!” Lia ran to her and tried to take the flowers back saying, “This is my Mama’s flowers! My Mama’s flowerrrrsssss!” and thus began a screaming, crying match with a tug-of-war for the beloved plastic flowers. I looked at my daughter’s eyes, her face streaming with tears and saw the struggle for “her Mama’s flowers” and I didn’t know whether to laugh or stay mum. Half of me wanted to just take the flowers away from my niece and tell her, “Yes this is MY flowers!” but I’d like to believe I’m the kind of mother that lets my daughter fight her own fights.

And that, goes down in history, as the day my daughter fought for me.

And I hope it would not be the last. In fact, I hope she would always do so…..

Anyway, going back to the store, it was crazzzzzy! Crazy in the way you go crazy over at Quiapo or Divisoria for all these funky cheap finds! There were cheap Christmas decorations, cheap rugs, cheap tables and cheap pretty little study tables for Lia!

At P1,600 I had soooo wanted to buy her one. *sad face goes here* because I did not have even P500. (Kahirapan for the win!)

So I led her away down aisles of cheap shirts, cheap pants, cheap bags, cheap shades, cheap trinkets, everything there was cheap! I was laughing the entire time! Then Lia got her hands on some pink and purple markers and called out to me. She then led me back to the study tables. Uh-oh, I murmured to myself.

I led her back to the counter with her markers and a Disney Princess notebook, which she gave herself to the cashier, and paid for them. She led me back to one of the pink study tables and sat down. Oh my, how I wished I could buy the cheap pretty pink study table…

I left her there to go roaming down the aisles once more and I found myself in the aisle with the kinky huge brassieres. Hahahaha! And the kinky panties! Oh la-la-la… hahaha! I thought, shall I buy some just for kicks? See, I have never been into kinky underwear. I was always the grandmother’s-underwear kind of girl, if you know what I mean. Hahahahaha! Oh my God, I was laughing like crazy the whole time!

And then, I go and check on some of the more normal-looking panties and see this!

One silly panty - design on the back

One silly panty - design in front

And I laugh like crazy because I remember the Elephanty! The panty with the elephant design, complete with a little tail at the back! Oh la-la-la-la!

And then that reminds me of this time when H and I were going through a particular Christmas bazaar in Eastwood, and there were these panties, and we were, for some reason, going through them and he had said, “Oh this looks nice!” holding one and I take one and say too, “Oh this looks nice! Except that it looks quite dirty.” Like you know, when you’re at a bazaar, people go through the stuff with their hands and all, but this particular panty, I happened to turn over and it was really dirty! Like dirty as if someone had already worn it! And we drop the panty, and hurriedly walk away, laughing like maniacs. Damn dirty panty in the Christmas bazaar! Hahaha.

Oh I wish I had taken photos of all these silly little stuff at that silly store but all of the staff were looking at me because they were already mopping, cleaning and basically closing for the night and I was there maniacally laughing at every little thing while my daughter owned the study table out in front, making drawings on her Disney princess notebook worth P10 and pink and purple markers worth P5 each.

Schooling at the silly store

I think I will make it a habit to visit this silly store just to check out what’s new. Besides, in the absence of playgrounds or long quiet streets where we can take a little stroll together, it’s a really good bonding activity for Lia and me.

Its at times like these when I love living the provincial life. Oh the simple joys! And hoorah to silly panties!

I should be writing letters, but right now, at 3:51AM, the last thing I want to write are more letters to other people. Perhaps a letter… to myself. Musings, like the ones I used to write.

Two nights, I sat on a bright yellow bench, with my dusky pink sweater wrapped around me, a cup of strong sweet and creamy coffee in a stryfoam cup bought from the sari-sari store nearest to that bright yellow bench that has endeared itself to me, and listened to Taylor Swift’s Fearless on my phone. I never did pay much attention to Taylor Swift, except when her video is on the music channel because she is absolutely pretty with that pouty lips and tiny mouth of hers, and except during that time when Kanye West was an a** to her at some particular awards show, but for some reason, I found it fitting to listen to Taylor Swift as the wind blew my hair around my face and the coldness of the early morning seeped into my jeans. A pair of bootleg jeans, perfect for my cowboy boots that has made itself famous in this particular city I happen to find myself often enough these days and that I have dug out of the bottom of my childhood cabinet – a memoir from my high school days.

Two nights, I sat on that bright yellow bench in the bus terminal, with a cup of coffee, music in my ears, wind blowing my hair, slap-slapping me in the face, waiting for the bus to leave, and thought about how it felt to be in the red deck of the Super Ferry, bound for Coron. Same, same. Sitting on the floor, a cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup, music in my ears, wind blowing my hair that slap-slaps me in the face, at an odd hour in the morning between dusk and dawn, when everyone, including the roosters are fast asleep, and there’s nothing else but the sound of the sea and the saltwater spray and my thoughts and me.

Coron, Palawan April 2008

I thought about doing another of those grand getaways. Take a boat to an island some place, where I know no one and no one knows me, meet new people, make friends with some locals, hang out with them every night, hang out in my room everyday, walk around by myself and take photos during the hours when I feel like stretching my legs, and find something odd, something new, something interesting, something cool, and something and anything in between. After a few days, board a boat that will, in a matter of six to eight hours, take me to another island, where I do the same thing over again until I finally tire of myself, and packing my bags, and moving my stuff from one cabinet or one bed, or one room or one house, to the next. Sometimes my stuff never even leaves the bag. I had loved comparing one bathroom to the other. I still do. It’s one of the things I find most amusing.

Two nights, I sat on the bus terminal, waiting for no one, waiting for nothing, not even really for the bus to leave. If that bus leaves while I still do not feel like getting up, I can always wait for the next, I thought. I come and go as I please. I sat there because the wind was lovely on my face, and my thoughts drowned in it.

In one of those nights, I had thought about packing my bag and leaving for the beach that very same morning. Even as I was on the bus, eyes closed, I entertained that thought. I’d get home, pack my bag with swimsuits, rashguards, boarshorts, sunblock, a towel, a sarong, some shirts and underwear, and then off to the beach I would go. But when I got home, I went straight to bed, put my arms around my sleeping daughter and went to sleep. The beach will wait.

I’m looking at colorful pages of…. ugly dolls and ugly books. They’re cute but they make me cry, and I don’t quite know why. My scratch disks are full.

I’ve found new homes for the uglies I used to own. They’ve moved on. I like keeping things that mean something to me but a few months ago, I found myself looking at some of them and wondering where they came from. I probably have MCI.

Today though I found myself looking for an ugly doll, and perhaps an ugly book, to buy for my nephew. His birthday is coming up.

I wanted an Ugly Ghost… a Suntan Target… a Ninja Batty Shogun..

Batty Shogun always wondered why toys having nothing to do with Ninjas would add ninja costumes to their line up. Just to look cool? Because Ninjas are rad? Well, Batty Shogun thinks that’s kinda “meh”. See, when Batty Shogun flies around at night with his best pal Ice-Bat, he does up the real dealio in an actual Ninja costume. No red flames, stripes or other crazy decorations. No spelling Ninja with a “Z” at the end. Just straight up stealth mode, that’s how he rolls. No sword though…those are sharp!

Suntan Target? That’s right! Leave him out in the sun for a few months and watch his nice tan fade away! Target has been away on vacation for a while but he just had to come back to show you his nice tan. You would do the same, right? Target is the oldest Uglydoll, so he knows when to show off. ALL THE TIME! Life is to short to hide your suntan! Or other special things, such as talents, special skills, and all that. Do you have one? Target wants to see!

Ugly Ghosts can be found way out beyond the back exits of Uglytown. If you ever decide to go camping near those trees just beyond the gates of the big city, you may be lucky enough to see one! Boo! Boo! Is that some sort of scare tactic or is he trying to tell you his name? Or is it Karaoke night? Hard to tell. But one thing is certain…Ugly Ghosts are good to have around if you can find a way to make friends with them.Try leaving out some sweet snacks under the bed.

These uglies are just adorable. Though I wouldn’t want to keep a lot of them, I think one or two is enough, I like having them for gifts for kids. The kind of kids that watch TV with their arms around their favorite plush.

I totally adore the books too but I wouldn’t want them for myself either. I have this vision of a little library filled with ugly books and little kiddies on the floor, or on colorful miniature tables and chairs, reading, flipping through and talking to each other about the ugly world.

From A is for apple to Z is for zilch, beloved Uglydolls star in hilarious
scenes that teach the alphabet in eye-popping spreads that are unutterably
Ugly—which is to say charming, irreverent, offbeat, and ADORABLE!
Board book for ages 0+

Using trademark Uglydoll irreverence and humor, learning numbers
is a hysterically Ugly proposition with Babo, Ox, Wedgehead, and the
whole Uglydoll contingent!
Board books for ages 0+

First came the alphabet. Then came the numbers. Now Uglydoll cocreators David Horvath and Sun-Min Kim have whomped up their third Ugly Board about—what else? Colors, the full spectrum from red to purple, including the all-important combo, plaid!

And with such books as,
The Ugly Guide to the Uglyverse
The Ugly Guide to Things That Go and Things That Should Go But Don’t
The Ugly Guide to Being Alive and Staying That way
Ugly Guide to Eating Out and Keeping It Down
how I can I not love them?

Them uglies. Things I like but cannot keep.

Moving on (and I’m always moving on it seems), I am back in Manila to work, work, work it all away. From my original Wharf Galley staff of seven, one headwaiter, two waiters, one chef, one assistant cook, one cashier and one sound technician; I now have nine, plus one bartender and one operations manager. This makes the work, for my staff a little bit easier with regards to inventory, and for me a whole lot easier with the responsibilities I used to have. I now officially have someone to audit my daily financial reports, in addition to my accountant/bookkeeper on retainer, and to run my errands while I am not in Naga.

Though it may seem that I am always out on supposed nights out, otherwise known as gimmicks, those are actually gigs I have to go to as part of my responsibilities as bar owner, producer and somewhat band manager.

In truth, I have not really “worked” in a long time, my official day job being Web Administrator and Research Assistant at the University of the Philippines Diliman. I spent almost all of March, April, May, June and July in Naga, with my mini-me in tow half the time.

When I am in Manila, I spend most of my time being housewife and mom at my home as well as girlfriend who goes out on movie and dinner dates. I try to see my friends and visit them in their homes, as I used to do before all this accidental-bar-ownership happened. I try to sleep as much as I can, something I am not able to do when I am in Naga playing the role of bar owner and enduring physically taxing work and sleep hours. I try to eat as much as I can so I can, in theory, stockpile on fats that just disappear within two days of stay in Naga – if they ever were present to begin with anyway.

This past Saturday was spent engrossing myself in a 2008-2010 tv series adapted from the series of books by Terry Goodkind, having lazy, delicious though late lunch at the newly-opened Papa John’s Pizza at The Brick Road and watching Chris Evans and his ridiculous costume (Don’t they all?)

Since it was an easy and lazy Saturday, I did not take it upon myself to fix myself for this day out. I must say that isn’t so obvious in this photo taken while waiting for delicious calzone to arrive. Yes, the calzone at Papa John’s is a treat. I’d come back for it soon.

I have not been too hard on myself lately but I am hard at work now on putting this particular website up (one year delayed of course) and catching up with some poster design, my motivation being, “The moment I am done with all this, I am taking my little me to The Little Playroom and spend the entire day there just playing house and cooking with various colorful, plastic kitchen implements.” And it works just fine.

As an end note, I miss blogging and photography. Those will have to wait.

As of this writing, I am sitting on Lia’s orange little chair while the electric fan blows our way, fanning me and my little one who is fast asleep on the sofa. She was stacking cans of soft drinks on the table in front of the television set when she turned around and slipped on her milk bottle. An accident that left her sprawled on the floor, with a bleeding lower lip and screaming for her Mama. I picked her up and cradled her in my arms, wiped the blood, the sweat, whispering in her ear words of comfort, until she fell asleep. She fell asleep with a frown on her face, while I had a smile on mine. I have missed this so badly. This. This baby in my arms. The past nights were spent pining away for her, as I could not sleep in my hotel room, in a bed that in the past I have always shared with her, missing her hands entwined with mine.

The past weekend had been very difficult. In so many ways.

But yesterday as I was leaving, I hugged my father tightly while he was cooking his dinner, asking him if he was going to be okay all by himself. I went home to get a blanket, and so that I could sit on the rocking chair in the balcony and spend some time with my father. A little chit chat. We had cried ourselves away last Saturday, quietly, as discreetly as possible.

Today, I am thinking of going to the hospital or a doctor to have my back checked, maybe have an x-ray done. Maybe I might also have some time to go to the dentist. Dulaang U.P.’s Rizal X is opening tonight so maybe, finally, after so many months, I can shoot again. Then it seems that my Travel Factor friends are all in town so maybe we can get together for our usual midweek get together. Maybe, just maybe.

This blog has been through a lot. About 50% of the original content is missing. The backlinks don’t work half of the time. My list of favorite links on the right navigation panel need to be set up again. I need to bring back the categories and the top navigation drop-down menu. All of my about 4,000 tags were totally erased. Ah, a lot needs to be done.

Tomorrow it’s all back to work again. I’m not looking forward to the operational meeting as I believe we will be looking at “Not Done” tasks again, and no one will be happy about it. But for today, let me lounge around in my own home, while my baby sleeps, comforted by the fact that in her dreams and in her reality, her mama is back.

East Coast Park, Singapore

Analysis is Paralysis

Playfair Road, Singapore

Kallang, Singapore

I stumbled on this blog and this Flickr photostream through one of my friends’ post on Facebook – and I was instantly impressed, and moved. What a beautiful idea. Truly heartwarming and inspiring – to come up with something like this, so simple, seemingly so insignificant, and yet making a mark in this world. Literally. These are post-it notes left to their fate in public places each day.

These posters, 70 Things We Forget notes in A2 (59.4 X 84 cm) sized posters printed on 100 gsm wood-free paper, are for sale here, each at 21 SGD; and I do want to get all three of them.

They also have a Facebook page that you may be a fan of, just like me.

To you who are responsible for this, you have my admiration and my heartfelt thanks…

It’s going to be a beautiful day I can tell.

I close my eyes and take in the sounds of an early provincial morning, the crows of roosters all around, blending with the feeble yet distinguishable songs of the cicadas, remind me why I like the early morning hours in the province.

Below me, life begins to stir, as lights start to turn on one by one in the neighbors’ huts. I smile again. I see one of my neighbors take out a basket of laundry and I am reminded that in a few hours, I will be bold enough to turn on the machine and spin the last batch of laundry that I left sitting in the abundance of water mixed with fabric conditioner. I love doing laundry. It’s one of my favorite things in the world – V’s laundry, one used to fondly say.

Maybe later today I will find it in me to walk around the town and take photos. Even of just the church – something I have been meaning to do if only I have not been going home in the early mornings, the sun up, bright and shining, with barely a wink of sleep.

Things are getting better and life is beautiful. Even if just right in this moment, with my eyes closed, drowning in the music of fond childhood memories.

Found these photos from H’s sd card. Photos taken at the Rolling Hills in Batan Island in Batanes, last September. They look good, thanks H. Makes me wanna take the photographer in me seriously.

Daniel Lagunzad (1957 – 2010), Terrestrial ecologist and taxonomist

The College of Science mourns the untimely passing of Dr. Daniel A. Lagunzad on 16 November 2010. Dr. Lagunzad is a professor of the Institute of Biology and its Deputy Director for Administration. He obtained his BS (Biology), MS and PhD (Botany) degree from the University of the Philippines in 1978, 1982 and 1989, respectively.

Dan first joined the Institute of Biology as an instructor in June 1978. He will be profoundly missed by his wife, Cathy, and his two sons, Janzen and Kit Daniel, as well as his colleagues and friends at the Institute of Biology and the College of Science.

18 November 2010

I have just come back from a short impromptu trip from Hong Kong and was not aware until now. I got the messages from the Association of Biology Majors (ABM) Facebook account. Thank you for letting us alumni know.

Leonardo L. Co (1953-2010), Taxonomist
By Fidel Nemenzo*

Leonard Co has had an extraordinary career as a scientist, specializing in the study and classification of plants and biodiversity studies. He entered UP in 1972, just before the declaration of Martial Law by former President Marcos. He chose to study botany, to continue his childhood hobby of observing and identifying plants. I guess for Leonard, plants are among his closest friends. They seduced him, and he loved them back.

When I entered UP in the late 70s, I already knew Leonard by reputation: an intensely passionate scholar who knew Philippine plants better than anyone else. He was also politically idealistic (a dreamer!), like many students of that time, as UP students should be. He joined the revolutionary underground movement, and spent the next several years doing medic and education work in the peasant communities of the Cordilleras and the Sierra Madre, while continuing to do research as well as writing a book on the medicinal plants of the cordilleras. In recent years, he has been active in the advocacy of biodiversity conservation.

Leonard has also published in both local and international scientific journals. Over the years he has continued to do research and has also mentored many science students, now with PhDs and established careers in botany. In a recent letter to the college of Science, he described his singular purpose in life: to discover real knowledge and share the joy and thrill of discovery with others.

This was so refreshing to hear, at this time when many people make their career decisions on the basis of fame or monetary rewards. (The university should encourage young people to dream!)

All these years, Leonard Co pursued his science without a degree, so the pure practice of science does not require one. But this year– UP’s Centennial– the College of Science has decided to confer on Leonard a well-deserved BS Biology degree.

N.B. Dr Nemenzo is the coordinator of the CS Science and Society Program. He introduced Leonard during an STS lecture that the latter delivered about two years ago. Leonard agreed to give another STS lecture in the 2nd semester, SY 2010-2011 but it will not happen anymore. He obtained his BS Botany degree from UP in Summer 2008.

17 November 2010

Sir Dan was my teacher in Ecology. He was a very amiable man. I had loved being in his class, no matter if I missed some of the field trips because I was that kind of college of student. I had loved Ecology so much that when I was contemplating on which Masters degree I was going to pursue, Ecology and Ethnobotany was one of my choices (along with Marine Science and Theater Arts). He was such a beloved teacher that when I was going to be married in 2006, I came to him and asked him to be one of our primary sponsors. I was so thrilled when he said yes.

Sir Leonard was never my teacher, but he was always there for us. He was always helping us with specimen identification and it was always a joy to speak to him about things he loved most. It took me quite some time to graduate as I took one semester of leave of absence and had a hard time with my math subjects, especially calculus – but Sir Dan would tell me, “Don’t let that affect you. It says absolutely nothing about what or who you are, whether you’re smart or not, whether you’re good enough or not. Look at Sir Leo. He never graduated but that did not stop him from being here or doing what he loves. If you have not done yet it, it’s not because you can’t, but because it’s just not your interest.”

I had thought about that the entire year I was stuck in college just taking calculus every semester. My IB professors would just smile at me and kindly assure me that things will turn out well, that I’d eventually pass Math 54. I owe my Institute a lot. I had grown to love all of my professors – even the ones who used to send me to their faculty rooms to lecture me on the importance of being present in class.

It is with such a heavy heart that I face this news of their passing. I have loved them so, in the little roles they have played in my life.

Related links:

• The University of the Philippines College of Science
• In Memoriam: Leonard Co
• Daniel A. Lagunzad, Botanist
• Leonard L. Co, Botanist

This time we will not be going with the rest of the Travel Factor people, as we are booked at the Bohol Beach Club on a package, but we hope to catch them at Dumaluan beach since they would be staying at Dumaluan Beach Resort.

Since we are not going on a Travel Factor trip, I have to make separate arrangements for our island hopping trip, our trip to Bohol Bee Farm and well, be basically all on our own. The thing is, I am actually not really enjoying this planning experience.

This year would be our first time in Batanes, after our last attempt to get there in October 2008 with some Travel Factor friends got foiled because Asian Spirit cancelled our flight. My mom has always wanted to go to Batanes and she has had me on a look-out for promo tickets for the past year. When the Independence Day promo of Seair came by, we took that as an opportunity to book her and eight of her friends.

Now I am tasked with making arrangements for eleven adults and an infant for a 6D/5N stay in Batanes this coming September. Might I add that I have to make offerings at the Sta. Clara monastery at the corner of Katipunan Avenue and Aurora Boulevard for good weather. *straight face goes here* The thing is, I am actually not really enjoying this planning experience.

What has gotten into me?!

I used to enjoy this planning stage so much. I used to spend hours and hours being on the net, looking for blog posts, looking for photos, contact numbers, contact emails and all kinds of information to make my travel as cheap and comprehensive as possible. Now all I want to book are worry-free packages. I used to look at the cheapest backpacking-style accommodations but now all I want to look for are the cheapest rooms with air-conditioning, spacious rooms with nice bathrooms (a bath tub is a big plus), and let there be a spacious garden too in the resort (please?)

I am not the traveler I once was. Now I look at my child’s comforts first, since I could never bear to travel without her, and compromise with the price and convenience.

I even have to arrange for pick-up and private transportation for the comfort of everyone for after all, traveling with a child is not easy nor light. We used to book “no checked-in baggage” all the time, but now, I even have to think about whether I should pre-pay for additional baggage.

I do have a travel site, but its content is, I am approximating, only about 5% of what I can actually write about or post. I have been to so many places and have accumulated so many photos, so many information that when I think about it, if I’m going to just actually sit down and devote time to posting all of them, I would spend the next three to five months working on nothing else but the travel site. I do intend to post what I can, little by little one at a time, and hope that they don’t get too outdated by the time I finally get around.

I am one tired momma. I need a vacation too. But unlike the traveler that I once was, I need a vacation where I can actually relax and unwind, and let go of all the cares in the world, if that is even possible. I am changed. I am old, I guess.

But then I went back to my room, went back to processing and uploading photos and forgot about the whole thing.. until I went on my Facebook and saw my friend’s link on making sure one is on COMELEC’s registration list and checking one’s name online. Yahoo! I got the link and went on to check my name.. and this is what I got. *straight face goes here*

Well, so much for endeavoring to make it to until the May 10 elections, from my April 22 arrival (hopefully) with my daughter who I will be away from for three whole nights this weekend as we will be going on the Travel Factor trip to Calaguas Island. It’s going to be the longest time yet that I will be away from her. You would think this time I should be used to it but no I am not. The longest so far I have not been with her was two nights! My in-laws are picking her up Friday afternoon as we are leaving by bus Friday night going to Daet and we will be back Monday morning as the bus leaves Daet Sunday night. Technically, we will only be sleeping in the island one night but two whole nights are spent on travel alone. I really wish I could take Lia with me to the island (Calaguas) but we will be sleeping in tents and the boat ride might not be very safe.

I will, though, try my hardest to take her with me to El Nido on the 22nd. We are attending my students graduation. They were my students when they were only in 2nd grade, ages 7 to 8, and now they are graduating from grade school (ages 11 and 12). I wouldn’t miss their graduation for the world. It turns out though I don’t have to stay there until May 10th, as my registration has been deactivated for….

No, I have not been court-sentenced!! I came “home” late in 2007.. instead of making it to the May 14th, I arrived May 25th. I really don’t remember why. I do remember why I did not make it to the October 29th baranggay elections, I was a few islands away, in Coron! Oh my. Hahaha.

Oh well, next elections I guess….

The baby scrapbook I have zealously started on two weeks ago with an impromptu shopping spree – if not all shopping sprees are, that left me two thousand pesos poorer as I walked out of this little scrapbooking store in Sta. Lucia is sitting undisturbed on the second floor hallway, after half-finishing the first pages that documented the arrival of the baby almost seven months ago. The idea is to make at least a page for every month for the first year. Just like what my sister Jasmin did for my nephew Sean. That being said, I am [almost] seven months behind.

Speaking of the baby, sometimes I find it hard to believe she is just six months, with all the things she does and can do. I am finally beginning to accept she will be bigger than I will ever be. Literally and hopefully, figuratively. She looks so big. Sometimes I ask out loud, “Is it just me or am I not seeing enough babies to be able to tell whether mine is smaller, or bigger or just the average size for her age?”

I have also been documenting the collection of accessories I have acquired through the years. I plan on disassembling them to fashion them into new and hopefully more exciting pieces. If I fail at exciting at least I will succeed in the new part. I have started putting together a few pieces here and there a few days ago, after a valiant trip to the city of Manila. I say valiant because I had merely wanted to take my mind off things… sad ones specifically. I remember sitting in one jeepney to the next, a blank and sometimes grim expression on my face, not minding the hours. If it was possible to cry, I would have; but I do not want to indulge these tears. I need my strength. I do not want my tears to fall just yet. So far, the city of Manila is the farthest I can go to, given that I cannot be away from the baby for long periods of time. If circumstances were different, I would have been miles and miles away out of the city. The trip to the city of Manila rendered me four thousand pesos poorer, but at least richer by a few points in experience and little tidbits of rather useful information… like where Hidalgo Street is relative to the church of Quiapo. Then again, another little project sitting in one corner of the living room, waiting for me to pick up some inspiration that will drive me to picking them up from their suspended indolence. Yes, their suspended indolence, by virtue of transference.

Like I always do when bothered, or perhaps what most people do, I have been going through my Facebook games in the hopes that mindless clicking will help. No, most people do not go through Facebook games to take their mind off things; just the performance of inconsequential things for the purposes of passing time.

“Most days of the year are unremarkable. They begin, and they end, with no lasting memories made in between.” – Narrator, (500) Days of Summer

I am mostly quiet these days. While sitting at a party a few nights ago, I began to wonder whether I still deserve my name. I am more content to sit in the back, observe everyone, just smile, make polite conversations and be more of a wallflower – blending more and more in the background. I have also began to wonder whether I like this change or not. Or was I ever? I am giddiest the most when I am with my high school friends. Or maybe when I am with my theater friends, they are always just giddier than I am.

There is this sadness.. deep within me. These days I am at a loss for words. Unable to communicate or perhaps, unwilling. What is there to say? What can be said that will not be misunderstood?

Did I not tell someone a few nights ago that the past does not bother me anymore? That I do not care anymore, only to be thought of as someone who is apathetic instead of someone who has finally accepted? Is it not enough that I spent most of my twenty seven years asking why and even going through hours paying someone in an attempt to understand? Last month I have come to the realization that some things are just the way they are. A month ago may be pretty recent but that realization is deep down to the core of my heart.

“All over the world, people are losing their futures and yet there are people who are hung up over the past…”- 8th October 2009

If my tears refuse to fall, it is not because my heart is cold and unforgiving. It is because I am trying to be strong.

My parents are coming over this week. I hope they would find some time to come over to see the baby. My husband’s work requires him to fly out of the country more often than is convenient for anyone. He will be gone almost all of this week and the last weeks of this month. He will be gone for half the month and I am surely not looking forward to that. If circumstances were different, I would be occupying myself with travel plans, booking plane tickets and getting reservations to various little resorts; but right now I am preparing myself for what difficulties it will pose to the baby, she being used to having her father around, and for me who will be helping her cope with that absence. I just know it will be trying and tiring and most certainly, un-looking-forwardable.

There is this sadness at the core of my being. There is this sadness gnawing at the edges of my heart. And this is a sadness I am not familiar with. This too is a sadness I will have to bear for months to come. If you find me smiling and laughing on the moments of forgetfulness, consider it a gift to myself and not indifference. If you find me silent, indulge me in a conversation on any subject regardless of significance. If you find me in tears, love me by not asking why.