adventures in neverland

"there is always something left to love," gabriel garcia marquez, one hundred years of solitude. in a few hours, we will all be bidding farewell to the year two thousand thirteen -- the year of the black snake. for most of us, it was not such a good year. in fact, before it ended, two disasters hit the country that claimed thousands of lives, destroyed homes and public infrastructure, damaged crops, and nearly darkened our celebration of the holidays: the earthquake in cebu and bohol; and the super typhoon yolanda that hammered leyte, samar and other parts of the visayas. but trust the tenacity of the filipinos -- who waged wars against imperialists and tyrants, survived several disasters whether natural or man-made, faced tanks and guns for the sake of freedom  -- to keep their spirits alive despite nature's wrath. for what else can we do? if we are driven to despair, then everything is lost, gone and over before we are even able to stand up and wipe the dusts o

(for the first part of this post, all about my best friend's wedding, please click here .) "love is patient,   love is kind. it does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.   it   does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking,  it is not easily angered,  it keeps no record of wrongs.  love   does not delight in evil  but rejoices with the truth.  i t always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." -- corinthians. my best friend and sister just gave a new meaning to the words late bloomer. indeed, at an age when most of us singletons are already giving up hope on finding the one (including neo of matrix), she found him and oh how she blossomed right under our inquisitive eyes, inspiring even the most jaded among us to hope and even dream that someone, maybe not the dashing knight in shining armour all the time, will surely come our way even late in life to complete us. in her case (no, she isn't old. she's still i

i never had a surplus of time. until now. i am drowning on it. tick tock tick tock. this must be how my mother felt all her life, being a stay at home house maker. maybe that's the reason why she is always chill, she hardly ever loses her cool. &&&&&&&&&& (my father, a military man, was always away on some destination. so it was always just her, the kids and the sometimes there, sometimes absent, helpers.) nothing daunts her. screaming kids? nah. it must have been super boring. staying at home all the time. just counting the seconds until it's time to bathe the kids, prepare their meals, feed them, sing them to sleep, clean the small house. and then voila, she is all by herself again. doing nothing. get some sleep maybe. read a little. watch desperate housewives (or cougar town), perhaps, if there was one during her time? count the seconds again until the kids wake up. then it's th

i knew i was at home the moment i set foot inside cafe adriatico in malate, an ancient (spanish era) two-storey house converted into a restaurant serving mostly home cooked spanish and filipino food and a coffee shop. i love the vibe, the old world ambiance. the cheerful staff. the helpful security guard. the place has so much stories to tell, so many ghosts wandering around. in my case, so many memories. i wouldn't exchange it for any starbucks shop anywhere in the world (except maybe in paris). ********** i sat outside to get a better feel of malate: the bitter smell of dust as the rain gently washes the earth; the street urchins playing under the rain; the watch your car boys helping drivers park their cars; and the cacophony of noises: loud filipino rock music coming from a pedicab; sirens from an ambulance and a police patrol car; the ringing of the bells from the nearby malate church. ahh, there is no place like it. after getting a table outsid

" only those who shared the same past can stare at the present with amazement and look forward to the future with a twinkle in their eyes," mahatma gandah. i haven't even yet started this post and already i am filled with emotions. my sight is blurred by the shy teardrops that threaten to become a full-blown cry if i don't stop. indeed, even tears (and failing memories too) become bolder and braver once you let them, interfering with an otherwise sedate state of mind that only wants to write down pieces of memories as they rush into the core of your ephemeral being. before you start forgetting them. again. but how can i stop, when i want to finish this post days before the big event? &&&&&&&&& in a few days, one of my best friends, sister, and for a long-time co-beat reporter at the central bank and finance department, will transform herself from a financial journalist usually clad in rugged shirt, pants and comf

make no mistake about it. i like watching movies, but sometimes some are just too bad that i would rather stick to reading a book. take the case of runner runner and don jon, two of the most promising movies starring three of hollywood's hottest leading men. (well, at least according to their press releases.) but sadly, both are huge disappointments. &&&&&&&& take runner runner for instance. starring two of hollywood's ham actors (from here on, i will stop calling them actors . it's an insult to nemo and other underrated stars at disney) --   ben affleck and justine timberlake (didn't you notice how their last names rhyme?!) -- in another take on casino gambling slash thriller slash action splash with a bit of drama. at least ben has strong, magnetic presence on screen (read: at least he looks like a movie star), but justine? argh. he's not handsome enough to be a movie star, not talented enough to be an actor. so i won