my best friend's wedding
"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 comfortable shoes, but still manage to keep her long, black as midnight, shiny and lush hair still attractively combed, washed and smelling of a baby's breath, into a gorgeous princess.
a princess who will walk down the carpeted aisle, punctuated with smokes and other special effects, as if she is walking on a cloud in an endless dream, in a beautifully-designed gown that emphasizes her lovely curves and queenly features, the all too-familiar youthful filipina beauty that simply refuses to surrender to the mounting stress of covering different press conferences and other media events everyday from makati to manila to malabon to taguig and even as far away as singapore and egypt!
such is her luck, really. having the lovely genes from her parents, proud, for sure, to see their daughter walk down the aisle with her handsome prince, a high school classmate who captured her heart right away like a skilled basketball player who suddenly scores a three-point shot at the last few seconds despite the agonizing pressure, wild cheers (and boos) from the court and the adamant will to win.
&&&&&&&&&&&
like most of my friends today, we started at the central bank beat almost at the same time. a few years after university. still young, sometimes wild, proud, opinionated, hungry, full of dreams, ambitions and other impossibilities that only the youth can be, do and see. ah, where did those young versions of ourselves go? how did they manage to escape from the cruel world of business journalism unscathed?
while most of us were the generic versions of the xyz generation -- going to discos and getting drunk after beating the deadline and submitting forty news stories about the monetary policy, the budget deficit, the latest international monetary fund comment on the economy, the changes in the direction of treasury bill rates, the current account position -- she has always stood out amid the maddening crowd.
for one, she has that distinct voice. a bit on the northern side of the volume (but still sweet, mind you), which is a surprise given her petite but adorable size. the booming, but always jovial laughter. the happy disposition even if we don't have a story yet at three forty-nine in the afternoon (a minute before our four o'clock deadline). the ability to crack jokes even if all of us were already panicking, pounding on the typewriters (wala pang laptop noon), queueing at the fax machine (wala pang internet noon) and waiting for their turn at the telephone (wala pang cellphone noon) to confirm if the office had received our news stories via the fax machine, and if they did, was it clear or garbled.
ah those were the days before iphone, twitter, facebook, viber, clouds, laptops, tablets, changed the landscape of our antiquated life at the central bank beat.
surprisingly, even if our generation did not enjoy the perks of modern technology courtesy of the internet and the smartphone revolution, our stories then were better, well-researched, full of details, well-written, comprehensive, filled with the right quotes from the right people. we could have won the oscar, pulitzer, bafta, even famas, if we wanted to. no chos this time!
(((((((((((((((((((
my sister, going back to her, has always been simple. easy to please. prone to bursting into an uncontrollable laugher even at the simplest jokes, even in the middle of a serious press conference by the visiting heads of the world bank and the international monetary fund from washington. we would have fits of laughters, seriously, even when we were inside the church attending a wedding.
oh and how she loves to sing. and oh, how we all love to hear her sing. even when we were playing cards at the central bank after a day's work.
from her, i learned some of these words and expressions that have become part of my vocabulary and have enriched my conversational skills: subiri, pasyal-pasyal, sa egypt nga, wag nega, jeepangga, saan ka pa?
i have seen her up-close, known a lot of things about her that others may never know. but contrary to the saying that familiarity breeds contempt and too much information is loathsome, we felt even closer.
of course, there were times when we were apart. especially when she moved to another beat that became her queendom, and i, on the other hand, had to find my own white castle in another country somewhere in the near southeast asia. or was it northwest asia? sorry, i failed grammar so many times in school. opps! geography pala.
((((((((((((((((((((
anyway, enough of this sentimental post.
when all i want to say is -- best wishes sister donna -- and congratulations to the lucky man who captured your elusive and picky heart - jun.
may your love be eternal, and your union be blessed with gorgeous children, and joyful memories.
i want to add good luck. but knowing you, you have so much of it already (nasubiri na) tucked beneath that lovely wedding dress.
so let me end this by saying -- you will always be one of the loveliest people that i have the privilege of knowing. for this, i will always be grateful for your gift of friendship.
(ps: i wanted to write more, but i'm already in full-blown tears. of joy. at the thought that my sister got what most girls had ever dreamed of.)
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 comfortable shoes, but still manage to keep her long, black as midnight, shiny and lush hair still attractively combed, washed and smelling of a baby's breath, into a gorgeous princess.
a princess who will walk down the carpeted aisle, punctuated with smokes and other special effects, as if she is walking on a cloud in an endless dream, in a beautifully-designed gown that emphasizes her lovely curves and queenly features, the all too-familiar youthful filipina beauty that simply refuses to surrender to the mounting stress of covering different press conferences and other media events everyday from makati to manila to malabon to taguig and even as far away as singapore and egypt!
such is her luck, really. having the lovely genes from her parents, proud, for sure, to see their daughter walk down the aisle with her handsome prince, a high school classmate who captured her heart right away like a skilled basketball player who suddenly scores a three-point shot at the last few seconds despite the agonizing pressure, wild cheers (and boos) from the court and the adamant will to win.
&&&&&&&&&&&
like most of my friends today, we started at the central bank beat almost at the same time. a few years after university. still young, sometimes wild, proud, opinionated, hungry, full of dreams, ambitions and other impossibilities that only the youth can be, do and see. ah, where did those young versions of ourselves go? how did they manage to escape from the cruel world of business journalism unscathed?
while most of us were the generic versions of the xyz generation -- going to discos and getting drunk after beating the deadline and submitting forty news stories about the monetary policy, the budget deficit, the latest international monetary fund comment on the economy, the changes in the direction of treasury bill rates, the current account position -- she has always stood out amid the maddening crowd.
for one, she has that distinct voice. a bit on the northern side of the volume (but still sweet, mind you), which is a surprise given her petite but adorable size. the booming, but always jovial laughter. the happy disposition even if we don't have a story yet at three forty-nine in the afternoon (a minute before our four o'clock deadline). the ability to crack jokes even if all of us were already panicking, pounding on the typewriters (wala pang laptop noon), queueing at the fax machine (wala pang internet noon) and waiting for their turn at the telephone (wala pang cellphone noon) to confirm if the office had received our news stories via the fax machine, and if they did, was it clear or garbled.
ah those were the days before iphone, twitter, facebook, viber, clouds, laptops, tablets, changed the landscape of our antiquated life at the central bank beat.
surprisingly, even if our generation did not enjoy the perks of modern technology courtesy of the internet and the smartphone revolution, our stories then were better, well-researched, full of details, well-written, comprehensive, filled with the right quotes from the right people. we could have won the oscar, pulitzer, bafta, even famas, if we wanted to. no chos this time!
(((((((((((((((((((
my sister, going back to her, has always been simple. easy to please. prone to bursting into an uncontrollable laugher even at the simplest jokes, even in the middle of a serious press conference by the visiting heads of the world bank and the international monetary fund from washington. we would have fits of laughters, seriously, even when we were inside the church attending a wedding.
oh and how she loves to sing. and oh, how we all love to hear her sing. even when we were playing cards at the central bank after a day's work.
from her, i learned some of these words and expressions that have become part of my vocabulary and have enriched my conversational skills: subiri, pasyal-pasyal, sa egypt nga, wag nega, jeepangga, saan ka pa?
i have seen her up-close, known a lot of things about her that others may never know. but contrary to the saying that familiarity breeds contempt and too much information is loathsome, we felt even closer.
of course, there were times when we were apart. especially when she moved to another beat that became her queendom, and i, on the other hand, had to find my own white castle in another country somewhere in the near southeast asia. or was it northwest asia? sorry, i failed grammar so many times in school. opps! geography pala.
((((((((((((((((((((
anyway, enough of this sentimental post.
when all i want to say is -- best wishes sister donna -- and congratulations to the lucky man who captured your elusive and picky heart - jun.
may your love be eternal, and your union be blessed with gorgeous children, and joyful memories.
i want to add good luck. but knowing you, you have so much of it already (nasubiri na) tucked beneath that lovely wedding dress.
so let me end this by saying -- you will always be one of the loveliest people that i have the privilege of knowing. for this, i will always be grateful for your gift of friendship.
(ps: i wanted to write more, but i'm already in full-blown tears. of joy. at the thought that my sister got what most girls had ever dreamed of.)
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