Happy New Year!

I can't believe the year is coming to an end--and what a year it has been! A lot of things had happened, some I (or any sane person) didn't want to happen but nevertheless, I am thankful for them. I strongly believe that all life experiences are meant to make us better persons. And I have never been one for New Year resolutions and I'm not gonna start now. That doesn't mean I don't aim for something year after year but I make my so-called resolutions because I want to be better and what time of the year it is is really of no consequence.

But a new year is beginning and I hope everyone reading this will start 2007 right. And I (and my family) wish everyone (and their families) countless blessings, good health, more laughter and all the best this coming new year and beyond.

Cheers!

Merry, Merry Chrimbo!!!

Once again it's that time of year again when the air is Christmas cool, when Christmas lights rival the twinkling in the heavens. Not to mention that it's the time when you wish you did your Christmas shopping earlier than, say, today. And it's the time for homecoming, gift-giving, family gatherings, get-togethers with friends both old and new. There are too many activities lined up and I'm all excited about all of them.

And since, I saw every one posting their won top five most fave Christmas songs, I'm gonna share you mine. All five, of course, are very dear to me--ballad-lover that I am. So here's the list (just click on the links for the lyrics):

1. A Perfect Christmas by Jose Mari Chan
2. Christmas Time by the Backstreet Boys
3. This Gift by 98 Degrees
4. It's Christmas All Over The World by Sheena Easton
5. The Christmas Song by Nat King Cole

Everyone who regularly visits this space are prolly too busy already with the Holiday preparations to check it out but still, I wanna wish every one of you a very, very happy Holidays. May you, guys, have all the blessings you deserve and want; all good cheer and even better health for you and your entire family.

(A Rant and) My All-Time Favorite Music Vids

I'm messing around with YouTube before my annoyance get the better of me. Why? Because the layouts for my other blogs are not always working with Firefox and I hate it. And I hate the thought of changing them--especially with my book blog because I love it like no other. So I'm gonna ask you a teeny-weeny favor: If you are a Firefox user, please tell me if, when you go to my other blogs, does Bookabulary look like this?

And does SongGeist look like this?


With IE, there are no problems but I'd rather use layouts that are cross-browser friendly. I'd really appreciate the feedback, guys. Thanks a bunch!!!

So as I was saying, I was messing around with YouTube. And I found Take That's "Babe" video and so the main reason for this post. I didn't find this video when I first checked for it. But then, that was months and months ago--that was prolly at the end of last year. So here is the music that sends me to cloud nine whenever I see it. It was 1993 and it was the dawn of boyband mania so please pardon the cheese. Well, I happen to like the non-edible kind of cheese so you'll definitely see more of it as you go along the list. As to the whys of how this list came to be, read here.

(2) This I Promise You by N'Sync
(3) Goodbye by the Spice Girls
(4) Coming Home Now by Boyzone
(5) I Don't Want to Miss a Thing by Aerosmith
(6) Thinking of You (Drive Myself Crazy) by N'Sync
(7) Graduation (Friends Forever) by Vitamin C
(8) There You'll Be by Faith Hill
(9) Leaving on a Jet Plane by Chantal Kreviazuk
(10) Let Love Lead the Way by the Spice Girl

Hiatus No More

I'm back from where I was hiding just so that Jazz will read the long post I left a week or so ago before I went poof! LOL!

Nah. I just couldn't let another day pass without posting so here I am again in all my boring glory. Okay, what were the noteworthy things (at least, for me) that happened in the past week or so?

--My sister and I finally moved to a new place. It's just a room, albeit a huge one. It's practically a place for our stuff and a place to sleep since we're both rarely home. It's in a new building and it's clean. But most importantly, since it's a new place (we're the first tenants for our room) there are [still] no ghost stories bandied about as is prevalent practically in every apartment complex, dormitory, lodging house, etc. in every corner of the country.

--James and Tyler won! Woohoo! I was just so effing happy to see those two be the first to step on the mat to win The Amazing Race X. Finally, a pair I have been rooting for from the very beginning won the race and it felt (feels!) good. Dang! I confess there had been times when I thought they were not gonna make it to the next leg but the editing was purely mah-velous (I can already foresee another Emmy for the production team). As I had hoped, The Models didn't get distracted by The Blondes. Hell, they annihilated them. Those girls were scary/competitive but also gave the word sneaky a whole new meaning. All in all, it was one of the best seasons ever!

--Babies, babies, babies! My cousin gave birth to a baby boy last December 6 and I will definitely see the new addition during the Holidays. And then a good friend of mine also gave birth to a baby boy last December 9 and if everything goes according to plan, a girlfriend of mine and I are visiting the new mother and child later today. Babies still scare me but as long as they're not mine, I'll be fine.

--Becks scored a goal over the weekend--and started the match, too. Unfortunately, they still went down to Sevilla 1-2 but as usual, I feel neutral when this particular case happens. I'm not a fan of Sevilla--it just so happened that that's my family name. Hahaha! But really, Real Madrid still need more wins to keep their title hopes alive. And I hope that Becks's previous thigh strain is gone so he can continue to be in Real's starting XI. Although he'll be sitting out this weekend's match because of his fifth yellow, he already made history as the Englishman with the most Spanish experience since the match against Sevilla was his 104th La Liga appearance. That, of course, came after he made history when he made his 100th appearance in the Champions League joining an elite club of three with fellow Galacticos, Raul (104) and Roberto Carlos (102). Kudos!

Aight, enough recap. On to the next post...er, blog. Whatever.

Cheerio!

While I Was Cleaning My Email Inbox...

...I accidentally stumbled on this forwarded message f/piled among the what-seemed-to-be gazillions of mail in my inbox. My best friend Lee Ann sent it to me a number of weeks ago and since I barely open forwarded mail, I was never able to read it.

Lemme just say that I cleaned my freakin' inbox (well, one of them since I do have three addies for different purposes) today 'cause I have a feeling I that I'll be quite busy within the next few days, maybe a week or so. I wanted to at least trim down the size of my inbox even if it's irrelevant because we are in the gigabyte era already. Or simply to file away whatever messages worth keeping. In short, I hate the sight of those mail in bold that clearly shout "You haven't read me yet!"

As I've mentioned, I might be quite busy in the next week or so so I there's half a guarantee that that I won't be able to blog much. Comment, maybe; post, I doubt it. So I left posts in all my three blogs and I hope that it'll be good enough for the duration. But I'll sure be back as soon as I can.

So back to what I found in my inbox. It's actually an article from the Philippine Daily Inquirer's very famous Youngblood section. I know the youth are not very keen on reading the newspaper but it's more likely that they know of Youngblood. Suffice it to say that it is already an institution as it has become representative of the young people in voicing everything from their political views to their personal stories.

This inbox find is no different. Read on:

By SC.

Today, I will attend an execution: my own. I will watch it with both eyes open and I will not cry. I will not break down just because the man I have loved since forever will marry someone else. I will watch him promise himself to a woman who will never love him like I have. I will watch them bind themselves to a vow I should have taken.

I have loved Oliver almost all my life. I have known him since I saved his six-year-old hide from a bully named Ricardo who wanted to rid him of his two yellowed front teeth. I was five at the time, but having grown with five older brothers and a hellion of a sister, 'Totoy Cardo' was a piece of cake.

Oliver was so overcome with embarrassment at having a girl to protect his scrawny neck that from that time on he made it a point to be the rescuer,not the rescued. As time passed, muscles filled out this lanky frame and those two front teeth began to sparkle. He combs his hair, and he takes a bath daily now. In short, he has become a fine specimen of manhood.

The best part is, he lived up to his promise: he became my self-appointed guardian (well, I don't know if that's the best or the worst part). He was just always there, sticking to me like glue. It used to drive me nuts that he never let me out of his sight.

When I was 12, I ran from the infirmary on my way home. I had found out in the most humiliating way that I had become a woman: there was a big red stain on the back portion of my skirt. The jeers and the taunts followed me through the school corridors. Oliver dashed after me and offered to accompany me home. I declined, of course. He seemed to understand my discomfiture and promised to drop later with the things left in school. When I reached home I was told that I needed to jump three times on the stairs (which I did) and to wash my face with my blood (which I didn't do). Oliver dropped by in the afternoon, sporting a black eye and a bruise on his arm. When I asked him what happened, he said he had walked into a closed door. I believed him. But a few days later, minus the dysmennorhea, I found out that Oliver got into fisticuffs because some guy made a disgusting remark about me.

Nobody had ever fought for me before that. And when you're 12 and discussing in class how King Arthur and fairest of them all, Lancelot, fought for Guinevere's love, you tend to get ideas. I loved Oliver then.

When we were in high school and I found out that the school's heartthrob and one of my most ardent suitors, Richard, was involved with a bustier girl, it was to Oliver that I ran. When I didn't graduate as valedictorian and I got so drunk, it was Oliver who took me home. He didn't even mind that I barfed all over his dad's car (which he borrowed without permission).

When I decided to go to UP and he went to Ateneo, we celebrated by partying. When I lost my mom in a car accident, he took care of everything.

When my dad followed my mom less than a year later after a heart attack, he was there again.

By this time he was an appendage of my life. He used to check out the guys I came to know. Nobody dared to get serious with me--not when Oliver had a black belt. I didn't know how to define our relationship. I didn't know what we were. We definitely were more than friends, better even than best friends. It was like we were a couple, but formally not one. We did all the things that couples did like hang out and neck but always stopped when things got too hot. Since we never defined what we meant to each other we never said "I love you" or whatever serious couples told each other.

As a result, I remained a chaste princess while my prince caroused and sowed wild oats, but still had the energy to monitor my movements I didn't mind. After all, I was so sure we'd end up together. I always thought that in the end, it would be us. I loved him. I managed to convince myself that he loved me (what else could it be?). Little did I know that love doesn't conquer all, it only conquers the weak.

I didn't think he'd be so stupid as to get a girl pregnant on the same night they met at a party. I didn't think he'd be so stupid as to forget to use some form of contraception. After all, he had given me a lecture on safe sex. And I didn't think he'd be so stupid as to marry the girl. But maybe I forgot that after all he was a man, and men have been known to be stupid about these things. Their brain is located in a region other than between the ears.

What could I do? Kicking him in the groin and punching him in the eye seemed like a good idea then. Don't blame me; he was the one who enrolled me in a self-defense course. But I did not feel better. Seeing him bent over in pain only made me angrier. I wasted my life for this lousy excuse of a man? I could not believe it!

I wanted nothing more than to run to him and beg him to wake me up from the stupid dream. I wanted him to take me some place where we didn't know anybody. No pain, no memory, no humiliation. I wanted to just forget it ever happened but since I flunked in the School for Martyrs, I couldn't, for the life of me pretend, it didn't happen. I couldn't pretend he didn't hurt me.

I couldn't pretend everything was fine and dandy and exactly the way it was before. We didn't talk for a month. For both of us who were practically inseparable, that was like an eternity. I ducked into corners whenever I would see him. I wouldn't take his calls. I wouldn't see him. And for some time hate was my reason for getting up in the morning, for breathing, for living. Hate and I became good friends.

"God brings men into deep waters, not to drown them but to cleanse them," somebody once wrote. I didn't want to be cleansed. I just wanted to drown in pain and misery and utter desolation. I wanted to wallow in the dark and deep pit of despair. I know a thousand and one cliches that say this can be a blessing and that I should be thankful. But thankful is the last thing I'm feeling right now. I've always thought that there are three kinds of women: those who break, those who mend and those who are broken themselves. Before this hit me, I assumed that I belonged to the first or second category. Now I know I'm in the third--so hurt and broken up inside. My grandmother used to say that there is nothing you can do about pain when it gives you a silly grin except grin right back. All I could manage was a wry smile, a killer headache and the worst hangover the day before his wedding. Evidence of that is the disgusting sight of mashed potatoes and barbecue, thrown up not three meters away from where I was lying prostrate on the floor and the awful stench of cigarette on my hair. Frankly I don't want to go.

I want to wallow in misery in my messy room, crying, retching and stinking, surrounded with Michael Learns to Rock (whose songs are dedicated to the broken-hearted) CDs. But I have to go and attend the wedding. I have to bathe and prepare and put on that atrocious peach (it's not even my color!) gown.

I'm not doing it for the groom, my one true friend and love, Oliver. Neither am I doing it for the bride, my younger sister, Sandra, who needs me. I'm doing it for my unborn niece who has the great fortune of having me as her aunt. Call me stupid, but I've always known my place. If it isn't beside the man I was destined to marry, if it isn't behind my sister, who will take his name, wear his ring and bear him a child, then it must be with my niece, cradled close to my heart so that she will know both of our love.