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Menstrual Management: NO MORE PERIODS! (on the second day of my period tralalalalalalala) [02 Jan 2009|03:21pm]


It's the third day of my period and I had to restrain myself from writing anything damning yesterday. Oh but how I wanted to just lash out at the world, make everyone understand how I feel.

You see, in essence, the menstrual cycle- all 28 days of it, is controlled by the variation of levels of hormones in a woman's body. I may not be a doctor but I've felt the effects of these hormones and I'm telling you, it's not a good thing.

On relationships, it reeks havoc. The number of fights with my parental units and significant others slightly before and during the actual menstruation period are countless. But this is difficult to understand for the male counter parts. THEY JUST DON'T GET IT. They think it's a lame excuse?

wooowwww Excuse me!

What if your reproductive organ was being remote-controlled by the various levels of hormones in your body, only to end in a literal blood bath caused by the sudden drop of hormones in your blood stream that consequently causes the shedding of the walls of your womb, therefore resulting in a flow of blood.
Oh, by the way, you can't control this. How's that for a mouthful?

But on the flipside, you can't blame the world and lash out at them just because you have your period or for any other personal reason for that matter.

All I'm saying is, it becomes increasingly difficult to use your brain and rationalize things when your hormones are going haywire. It's such a daunting task. It drives me nuts. I'd rather just stay in a room and cry and not do anything. But I can't.

To working ladies there is no reprieve. Texas Instruments reported a 25-percent drop in work efficiency for women workers during their menses.

25-percent. that's a whole lot if you're a typical woman who always wants things to be a hundred percent, a hundred percent of the time.

What really bugs me is that this is something beyond my control, imposed on me by a higher being. And as I look deep for a higher reason in all of this, in all my decade or so more of racking my brains for a reason, I can't find it.

Sure it's a biological indicator that you haven't conceived, but don't you think you'll eventually figure that out when your belly doesn't blow up the size of a football field, and your breasts aren't filled with milk?
Is it a trade off for the ability to have multiple orgasms?
Is it punishment for pushing Adam to eat the apple of wisdom?
Is it because women were destined to be the weaker sex and we've all just been blindly fighting against this fact?
Why must I bleed every month? Is it a trade off for the so called joys of mother hood that every woman is said to have?

If ever I die and go to heaven, I know what my first coffee conversation with God will be.

There has been a medical breakthrough though, called Menstrual Management. It's been around for quite a few years now. It's quite easy to understand for those who've used the Pill. Basically, the Pill, or at least from how I understand it, a few variations of it, has 21 hormone pills and 7 placebo pills usually spiked with iron (A huge number of us, unhealthy and fragile women who have their periods suffer from ANEMIA!-studies have shown that these are women who typically grew up in the city and not used to hard labor).
The actual flow of blood happens when you're taking the 7 placebo pills, cause the hormones cease to have effect and your body goes crazy haywire from the hormones!!!!

Menstrual Management 101 says you simply skip the placebo pills, continue taking the hormone pills and voila! No more period.

No more cramps, no more, crying spells, sex all year round oops, that sounds too vulgar let me rephrase that for you tender feet readers, INTIMACY all year round.

Sounds good to you? Are you going to give it a go?
I'm still thinking about it.
Hey, after all, there must be a bigger reason why women bleed every month. I just don't know it yet. But I'm woMAN enough to accept things beyond my control and woMAN enough to roll with the punches.
4 comments|say it

Day One: Puso at Puson Diaries: Ang unang araw ng pag dudugo. [31 Dec 2008|10:20am]
Magandang Umaga Pilipinas, Jamie, the Peminista is back. Pagkatapos ng napakatagal na Hiatus, nandito na ako muli para mag explore at mag share ng aking mga nakakadiri, an nakaka endear na storya ng nangyayari sa katawang ng babae everytime (drum roll please?)

a. the red flag is up
b. May buwanang bisita
c. nag paparty ang mga blood vessels sa puson at therefore dumadaloy sa puso at therefore nag dudulot ng di maintindihang hormonal imbalance, at therefore nagiging hazardous to your health and mine ang aking very existence!
d. may period
e. all of the above

**examiner's note: BAWAL KAYO MAG KAMALI DAHIL MAGKAKAROON NA AKO! AT SA PANAHONG ITO, AKO ANG TAMA, AKO ANG DIYOS.
bwahahahaha

in flawless English, in questionable Filipino (hey, don't blame me, blame society!), in exceptional Taglish, I bring you...

Day one, In the Puso at Puson Diaries. Ang unang araw ng pagdudugo.

==========================================================================================

I hate delayed flights. I hate waiting in the airport. I hate missing my appointments because of some "airplane malfunction" or whatever reason. Somewhere down the hierarchy of the Airplane world someone did not do his job. tsk tsk tsk.
Pero you know what they say, mas mabuti ng late ang flight wag lang ang period.
Which brings me to the major thing I hate the most- LATE PERIODS.
hindi dahil takot ako ma-jontis. pero takot ako ma tagusan. lagi akong handa. nag susuot ng napkin kahit na wala pang period pero alam ko dadating na ang aking "monthly visitor."

Sayang sa pera, at sayang sa puno-sa environment, ang pag susuot ng sanitary napkin na hindi naman nagagamit. Alam niyo ba kung gaano katagal ma durog ang napkin at diapers sa land fill? or in our case Payatas o Montalban.
Land fill my ass, asa ka pa na may land fill sa pilipinas in the truest sense of the word. 
Sanitary napkins and children's diapers take 500 to 800 years for decomposition.
Chong, 500 years bago madurog yang napkin ko na hindi ko naman nagamit na sinuot ko lang dahil ayoko matagusan!
500 years!

pause. himasin ang namamagang puson. at nagwawalang puso.
hinga ng malalim. Breathe in... Breathe out... channel in Oprah. Oprah is calm even when she is fattest. Oprah...... kailangan kita.

Sabi nila sa Anger Management, you're calm enough when you can put your furstrations and thoughts in one coherent sentence.
Sabi ko sa kanila, I have my period.
Pregnant Pause.

pero susubukan ko pa rin. "I hate sanitary napkins, tampons, because they take 500 years to decompose, and I keep using them because I have no choice but to bleed every month."

In preparation for my monthly visitor I wear my napkin. trickle trickle blood. hello? ready na ako.... lumabas ka na! Pero ang lumalabas lang yung parang dark brown sticky icky liquid that always comes out before the big flow.

At this stage of the menstrual cycle there is no need to wear a napkin. you just need to wear a panty liner. but no, dahil ako praning, dahil ayoko ng kalat, i wasted a sanitary napkin. Where it will stay in a land fill, where kids and their parents who share DNA, filled with my DNA, my blood and DNA rotting in a land fill, for 500 years. Just because praning ako, ayoko matagusan, ayoko ng kalat and I have no choice but to bleed every month.

Perhaps that is the fate of Women. To have no choice but to bleed periodically, every month, with no reprieve. no salvation from it. Kahit ilang beses kami mag bleed. ilang beses madurog ang mga walls ng aming mga puso at puson, hindi parin humihina ang lakas ng loob. Women were made to bleed. SO BRING IT ON BITCHES! IT'LL TAKE A LOT MORE TO BREAK OUR SPIRITS!


say it

"I am what I am "- maricel soriano (A re post from 2005!!!!) [31 Dec 2008|10:10am]
Bumangon si Jamie sa lapag.
Tinanggal niya kasi yung mga kama para malagyan ng malaki at colorful na banig
At malambot na kutchon.
Higit sa lahat para mas maraming space sila ng bago niyang roommate- ang pinakmamahal niyang pinsan na si Lara.

Umikot si Jamie sa bahay.
Ahh... Kami lang ni Joel (ang kanyang pinsan)
Okay.
Pumunta si Jamie sa banyo para mag poopoo ng nakasara ang mata at nakabukas ang pinto.
Opps...
Hinabol ang pintuan ng kanyang outstretched arm habang nakaupo sa inodoro at
Naka-baba ang shorts.

May nagbukas ng ilaw sa lavatory na katabi lang ng toilet.
“Today I’m going to write about my life.
I’m just going for it-a matter-of-fact.
No grammar rules no nothing,”
Sabi ni Jamie sa taong di naman niya kilala pero kinakausap niya araw-araw lalo na kung may problema-the little green man called envy in her head.

Nag-aral si Jamie sa Sunny Day play school malapit sa kanilang ospital at kanilang bahay sa pasig na tawag ng lahat ng tao doon ay “white house” dahil sa malalapad nitong mga pader at sa white and brick façade (although wala naming brick ang white house diba?).
Lumipat sa St. Paul’s Pasig para sa prep at gradeschool, sa St. Bridget’s School para sa kaunting gradeschool at Highschool tapos sa Ateneo para a college.

Doon talagang natuto si Jamie. Taas ng grades ni Jamie. Nag-aral yan doon eh. Nagmahal, minahal, niloko, nanloko, nag-sex, uminom, nag drugs, nag yosi (yuck!) nag-aral, umiyak para maka A. nang-iwan, iniwan din naman, nag-trike, nag drive, nabangga, nangulila sa kotse at sa kanyang ama-amaing lolo. (this one and everything I do good is por you!-sabi ni Jamie sa little green man called envy na kinakausap niya lalo na pag may problema)
Pero higit as lahat, nag-sulat si Jamie, ang munting prinsesa.

Nagsulat imbes na umarte sa entablado.
Nagsulat siya hanggang sa makakuha ng awards at magkaroon ng trabaho.
nagsulat siya kasi may pera sa mga taong marunong magsulat.
Nagsulat siya para maka-graduate.
Nagsulat siya para mag ka boy friend,
nag sulat siya para lang manakit at durugin ang maraming puso at puson-her’s included.

Ngayon, nag-susulat si Jamie every day of her life.
Kasi it’s the only thing she knows how to do.
Master of the written word, but sad all the same.
I wish I had pursued acting, I wish I had loved true, I wish I had chosen to go to UP I wish I knew photography. I wish I had gone corporate, I wish I had stuck to print journalism, I wish I never met you, I wish I could drive better, I wish I saved my money, I wish I could live with you, I wish I could just go to Sagada and meet a shaman who can wish all these things into existence.
Sabi ni Jamie sa little green man called envy inside her aching head.


Nagcringe at nandiri si Jamie sa mga ginawa niya sa nakaraan, pero walang regrets. Walang regrets dahil walang panahon, sayang sa oras. Sabi nga ni maricel soriano - I am what I am.
say it

brrrrrrrrrrbaguio [20 May 2008|03:18pm]
its so brrrr cold here in baguio. but i love it. it means so much for the two of us. and i cant help but feel nostalgic about things whenever i'm here. although lately we're always here for work. I wish i could be perfect just for you...
2 comments|say it

When fat was just a three letter word [22 Nov 2007|01:51pm]

Is nostalgia cowardice? I ask as I take a break from the seemingly mundane and boring world that is my work. 
Now id I have deep-seeded freudian issues because i equate work with my world is not the question here.
Of course I've never hidden my clinginess to my past and the comfort I get whenever I think about getting over that bad break up, the class that just wouldn't end, the rumors that just wouldn't die, and the worst of all, learning to forgive myself for hurting people who had nothing but love for me. 

Now, I unveil to you, friends and rumor mills, a segment of my life, an autobiography, in pictures, called

When FAT was just a three letter word =)    (and not an adjective to describe ourselves damnit!)

Alaala Puerto Gallera 2005!


We were thin! We were young! We were Happy! I'm feeling so Happy! hehe :P


We're sexy, We're cool! Funny, we've all gotten what we've wanted. Cyndy: on the way to six kids, Rois: Law school-Ateneo (Law school pa ba?) Jamie: well, pseudo journalist :)



The pose of the 21st century! Mouth open!




By night time, no one was well enough to take good pictures! Some things are best left in memory- without pictures as evidence!


And of course, there were parties! Lots of them! And my bespoke black dress that seemed to take me places. Yes, that's a Sarah Jessica Parker Rip off! I confess.
Midsummer Night's Dream, Dream.



The Princess


And of course there was my funnest birthday party, Princess Jamie's Arabian Nights Party at Tajma. After Party Party at Mr. Camus Casa. 
Mr and Ms. Cellophane



My curly virgin hair



My first job. Yes, I swear! Never will I be in a 9 to 5 job again. At least now I can do perfect day make up in a moving car!



Tiffany's bracelet from Mrs. Samson, where are you:(



Then there's now.
My smile says  it all.
I'm happy now, steadiest and most stable than I've ever been before. 
I'd tell you more of now, but then again, it wouldn't fit the "revisiting the past" bill.
I'm fatter now but happier.=) 


============================






5 comments|say it

Umayos kayo! We live in a teleserye world part II [01 Nov 2007|05:30pm]
Time and time again, I've shamelessly proclaimed love for the Philippines. I'm never leaving this country, I said. My talents are better used here.  I am weakened though by our current political and economic state. (not to mention creeping christmas which stresses how much i want and cant have).
I know that I should be grateful. Thank god for my good life. a job i enjoy doing. the liberation and independence i enjoy. After all, if you think about it, things could really really be much worse.
However after visiting god knows how many countries in such a short time, i am reminded by how unjust Philippine society is.
Our News is the most entertaining in the world. It comes as no surprise why big networks keep churning out these fantaseryes and what nots. It's taking a lot to take people into the world of "fiction." I would imagine years ago, an ousted president, a convicted felon at that, would never be granted clemency by the same person who took his post. It's absurd! It's like Gloria saying "Okay guys, what erap did is something forgivable. as if he was ousted for something so trivial as to be given pardon!" really, what does that say about the legitimacy of Gloria's first term? Are we living in a teleserye world? where happy every after comes after "I'm sorry" and being at peace with one's enemies? What of justice? Yeah, yeah, go ahead and talk about the "real" world and what's needed for political survival. I don't care for that reasoning. I don't care about Gloria's political survival. I care about the Philippines. I care about OUR SURVIVAL.
A lot of our people are unemployed. And there are NO JOBS waiting for them.
A lot of out people are uneducated. And there are NO SCHOOLS that can help them.
A lot of our best people are going abroad. And their families are being torn apart by the physical separation and the need to make a living.
I myself find this close to home. do i just take my hardworking ass abroad where i can earn money commensurate to what work i'm willing to put out? Or stay here. as a matter of principle. bringing my talents closer and closer to the people who deserve to benefit from them-- my own people. my own country. there is no other. My love for country is like my love for my family. I did not choose them and yet I am committed to it. I am obliged not to take the first job opportunity that arises overseas but to at least think about it ten fold, assess the situation and only when i have absolutely no choice, then I'll take it. with a very heavy heart and a big weight on my shoulders.
You politicians watch out. wait for me to get a hang of the real world, and I really will find a way to make you pay for every unschooled, underpaid, undernourished and unfree Filipino. Clean your acts up. Or as we like to say "Umayos kayo!"
say it

short story [20 Aug 2007|12:25am]
short story
Here she was, all of 23 years, 19 years of school, desperate to find a permutation that made sense from the 7 blocks of letters in her latest hand of scrabble. Crinkle as she did her newly tweezed brow,  or annoyingly tap her pen (she was the designated scorer), nothing came to mind.  Everything, and I mean everything,  just seemed to melt away for her in a matter of seconds. She was losing herself, and it took a scrabble game to get her to finally flip.
And like  in the movies, when great things come to an end, flashbacks are due, (even in this rambling pseudo-fiction, life imitates poetry, prose is the new poetry piece.)
I remember sitting in my bedroom, crying for myself and my sister. We did not belong to anything or to anyone. How could we? our parents were separated, only God knows if my mother the communist was still alive, my father was dead. my grandfather, the strict patriarch that held everyone together was dead, all my aunts, those that supposedly raised all of us in lieu of a mother, had their own lives, and finally, children of their own. We were floating, orphaned, and the reality that we did not have a family, that in fact we never did have a family, was staring us at face-point. It's been downhill since then, it;s been difficult to get relationships to last. i was desperate to find one, cultivate one, nurture one, one man who would be my future. Who would stand by me no matter what. I've had good ones. very good ones. good catches, big fishes, or whatever cliche you want to use. But they never seem to last. I grow tired of their goodness., they never seem enough. They never see me through. In one way or the other, regardless of who initiates the break up, it's always because of me that things don't last. They all asked for me to marry them. Then again, I guess that;s the most romantic thing any guy could say to a girl-- at any age, even if they are just 12.
Now, here I was living with a guy, who for once does not want to marry me-- or maybe he does? He' isn't quite in control of his senses, must be the drugs, he does not by any means treat me like a princess, and for once, I don;t demand such treatment, he fights back. he tries to control me. he makes me ride public buses. he doesn't listen to what I say. he violates me, and yet i'm here.I feel like Job incarnate. And just minutes ago, all 23 years, all 10 years of dating experience, and 4 serious wedding proposals, I was hit. I was punched. and the pins and needles don;t stop.
The tears don;t stop as well, as they trickle down my cheeks, during the first game of scrabble that I was destined to lose. Everything becomes a blur as a well of tears stream down my cheek bones. I can't stop ot any more. the throbbing from the now purple fist mark on my arm finds its way through my veins, into my heart, stinging it with bitterness, and into my chest, robbing it of air. and into my eyes, fueling it's tears, and out again into my skin. making it numb to all external feelings except of my throbbing bruise, and the thousand and one pins and needles running through them. He gets frustrated. He says I take too long. And that I already know I'm going to win. He gets even more frustrated when he sees the tears. He says He doesn't want to be with someone who's always crying. and that I had no right to be crying. after all, he already promised he wouldn't hit me again. He's right. He doesn't. He takes it out on the poor scrabble set, scattering the letters. the letters that would be words but are just too fucked up to form any sense, not to mention to perform their duty and make words.
1 comment|say it

drugs not dead! [29 Dec 2006|01:57pm]
(girls, you know who you are. doesn't it feel nice to have amps or should i say semi amps in our luverly bodies hehe. luverly luverly indeed. DRUGS NOT DEAD HEHE)

women and their bodies have and forever will have one of the most erratic, erotic, violent relationships. I consider it the most violent of all my relationships, this coming from an ex-serial dater in conservative pinas.
well, we all have our problem areas, come on, you know the mantra 
honey, my nose is too big, sweetie, have you seen my thunder thighs? whats with this hanging pouch? last time i checked i wasn't a kangaroo! my skin feels like, fish scales, im bursting out of every single commercial bra. or the proverbial "ang taba-taba ko na!" 
for this we have,
liposuction, lip reduction, breast augmentation, nose lift, fat shift, bangkok pills, ionamin pills, shabu, exercise, sexercise, after six diet, no meat diet, fruit and nut diet, south beach diet, the no carb diet, the no-eat diet, mesotherapy and anti-cellulite massages.
we've all heard oprah's speech, don't lose weight for anyone but yourself. and rightly so. your relationship with your body may be the most turbulent love-hate relationship to rival that of your and your moms, or yours and that kami-pero-hindi-boy. but at least you know your body wont up and leave the next morning. your body will spend a lifetime with you. feel secure with that, that's more security than any man can give.

1 comment|say it

do you know any oronyms? [26 Jul 2006|08:54pm]
An oronym is a string of words or a phrase that sounds the same as another string of words or phrase, but is spelt differently, e.g. ice cream and I scream. Oronyms usually occur becaue sometimes in speech it is almost impossible to tell where one word ends and the next begins. This seamlessness of speech can often cause misunderstandings, so be careful how you phrase the things you say.

The good can decay many ways.
The good candy came anyways.

The stuffy nose can lead to problems.
The stuff he knows can lead to problems.

A politician's fate often hangs in a delicate balance.
A politician's fate often hangs in a delegate balance.

Some others I've seen on the street.
Some mothers I've seen on the street.

Reading is allowed in the library.
Reading is aloud in the library.

Why don't you take a nice cold shower.
Why don't you take an ice cold shower.

Be careful how you choose a name for your baby.
Be careful how you choose an aim for your baby.

If you listen you can hear the night rain.
If you listen you can hear the night train.

The stripper's act was a new direction.
The stripper's act was a nude erection.

I didn't see Mabel at school today.
I didn't seem able at school today.

Urgent peace talks were needed to avert a war.
Urgent pea stalks were needed to avert a war.

That's the biggest hurdle I've ever seen!
That's the biggest turtle I've ever seen!

I don't know how mature people enjoy such sights.
I don't know how much your people enjoy such sights.

The old drunk's beer drips down the drain.
The old drunk's beard rips down the drain.

See the farmer's field red with poppies.
See the farmer's feel dread with poppies.

Will your pet catch it before he comes back in?
Will your pet cat shit before he comes back in?

The parcel was secured by a grey tape.
The parcel was secured by a great ape.

He was very cold, but he was a nice man.
He was very cold, but he was an ice man.

He greedily tucked into the juicy plum pie.
He greedily tucked into the juicy plump eye.

If you smoke heavily you may cough a lot.
if you smoke heavily you make off a lot.

The poker player called for a new deal.
The poker player called for a nude eel.

The sharp pain gave him something to yelp at.
The sharp pain gave him something to yell Pat.

The florist had tulips of vibrant red.
The florist had two lips of vibrant red.

Ice cream for a tasty teatime treat.
I scream for a tasty teatime treat.

The therapist taught me to be myself.
The therapist taught me to be mice elf.

I forget when it was I first knew Teresa Green.
I forget when it was I first knew trees are green.

I love the patterns on your new woolen carpet.
I love the patterns on your new woolen car, pet.

He drank so much, he fell into oblivion.
He drank so much, he feel into a Bolivian.
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Mid-20 Breakdown! [09 Jul 2006|03:07pm]
Yes friends. after much thought, research and reflection on current events I have accepted the fact that I am going through QUARTER LIFE CRISIS. This has lead me to believe that I am not reliable for anything but fashion advice and writing tips. You cannot believe anything I do or say. and that includes this post. I just spruced up the next parts from an article i lifted from the net.

Chongs! Get down with the sickness!

If you are/experiencing...
* between 21 and 29 years
* confusion of identity
* insecurity regarding the near future
* insecurity regarding present accomplishments
* re-evaluation of close interpersonal relationships
* disappointment with one's job
* nostalgia for college life
* tendency to hold stronger opinions
* boredom with social interactions
* financially-rooted stress
* loneliness
(and your name isnt _ _ _ _)

then you probably have the Quarter life sickness.

According to the net article, These emotions and insecurities are not uncommon at this age, nor at any age in adult life. In the context of the quarter-life crisis, however, they occur shortly after a young person – usually an educated professional, in this context – enters the "real world". After the initial excitement of adult life and its responsibilities wears off, some individuals find themselves in a world of career stagnation and extreme insecurity.

As the emotional ups-and-downs of adolesence and college life subside, many in the quarter-life crisis experience a "graying" of emotion. While emotional interactions may be intense in a high school or college environment – where everyone is roughly the same age and hormones are highly active – these interactions become subtler and more private in adult life.

Furthermore, a contributing factor to this crisis may be the difficulty in adapting to a workplace environment. In college, professors' expectations are clearly given and students receive frequent feedback on their performance in their courses. By contrast, in a workplace environment, a person may be, for some time, completely unaware of a boss's displeasure with his performance, or of his colleagues' dislike for his personality. Office politics require interpersonal skills that are largely unnecessary for success in an educational setting. Emerging adults eventually learn these social skills, but this process – sometimes compared to learning another language – is often highly stressful.

But at the end, Its all about the MONEY!!!
A primary cause of the stress associated with the "quarter-life crisis" is financial in nature. Real wages for most people have been dropping since the 1970s [citation needed], and most professions have become highly competitive. Positions of relative security – such as tenured positions at universities and "partner" status at law firms – have dwindled in number. This, combined with excessive downsizing, means that many people will never experience occupational security in their lives, and this is doubly unlikely in young adulthood. Generation X was the first generation to meet this uncertain "New Economy" en masse.

The era when a professional career meant a life of occupational security – thus allowing an individual to proceed to establish an "inner life" – is coming to a crashing end. Financial professionals are often expected to spend at least 80 hours per week in the office, and people in the legal, medical, educational, and managerial professions may average more than 60. In most cases, these long hours are de facto involuntary, reflecting economic and social insecurity. While these ills plague adults at all ages, their worst victims are ambitious, unestablished young adults.

In The Cheating Culture, David Callahan illustrates that these ills of excessive competition and insecurity do not always end once one becomes established – by being awarded tenure or "partner" status – and therefore the "quarter-life crisis" may actually extend beyond young adulthood. Some measure of financial security – which usually requires occupational security – is necessary for psychological development. Some have theorized that insecurity in the "New Economy" will place many in a state of, effectively, perpetual adolescence, and that the rampant and competitive consumerism of the 1990s and 2000s indicates that this is already taking place.

Quarter life crisis ka na ba? QLC NA!
3 comments|say it

Travelog Summer Edition: Staying at the Hilton [24 May 2006|01:14pm]
The summer season travels began with paying homage to Cebu Province, otherwise known as the Queen City of the South.

The first Cebu trip began with a drive through Cebu City, the capital of the Philippine province.
To a Manilena, it would seem that one had gotten on a plane in Manila, get suspended in air for an hour or so to get dropped off right where you came from- the all too familiar scenes of traffic, adject poverty, and endless roads with no green or blue to rest your eyes on.

Around an hour drive from the Mactan-Cebu International airport, we hit the Hilton Cebu where we would be saying. The signature pink walls and pillars of Hilton Hotels and seeming oddly placed lobby was not a warm welcome at first but no sooner as you step out of your vehicle and take a wiff off the cool wind that seems to literally encirlce the lobby, you feel like the thousands of dollars it takes to actually stay at The Hilton.

Later talks with the owner revealed that engineers had studied the wind patterns of the area and built the lobby and pillars in such a way that it would harness the wind.

The rooms were elegant and simple and not your typical Shangri-la hotel room with beautiful fixins that are more often than not just glued to the walls. Everything in the room had a purpose. It was not cluttered, and not difficult either to get set into.

But what really made the experience unique was the feeling the design of the place radiated-it was truly a timeless work of art- it didnt feel old nor faddish. Iron casted beds lay side by side modern lamp fixtures.


The food was the icing on top of the cake for a stay at the Hilton. Quite frankly, I could go on and on about it but I will zero-in on the most interesting.

Perched on the shores of the sea lining the hotel grounds is a restaurant called Manny O's from the most gracious and generous renaissance Manny Osmena, the owner and developer of the Hilton-Cebu. The first, and currently one of the two restaurants in the country to serve Wagyu meat.

(I consider myself a novice when it comes to wine and food- although arguably advanced for my peers. pardon the frankness but I find pride in my knowledge of good eats. After all, it has been a lifelong passion-fueled my a gourmad grandfather who took me to all the culinary hotspots in the country, and bought me numerous books. Food and wine for me is personal- it is a connection with the greatest man who ever lived in my opinion, my dear Lolo. How I wish he was still around.)

Dinner at Manny O's comes around as a full-circle experience, matching the prefect wine with the dish.
Everything about the place spells red-letter.

To the art-deco piece interpretation of the big-band partying era that serves as backdrop to the bar, to the deep red tent with Moroccan-inspired lamps and glass pieces.

Wines from Australia, New Zealand and Italy have been paired with Manny O's tapas for the perfect sit-down dinner.

But Manny O's signature dish is the Wagyu Burger. one food writer wrote "Gourmet's who have recently discovered Wagyu consider this "Kobe" style beef as the most tender, most succulent and tastiest in the world, not to mention the most expensive, too."

Muscled waiters attend to customers at Manny O's. Firm chests and strong arms are added eye candy to the sizzling and juicy piece of meat they carry plated on their big hands.

Wagyu comes at US$300 per pound and comes from Wagyu cattle, which are just like Kobe- massaged, grain and beer fed for 150 days.

The closest thing that I could resemble the taste too is veal. But what really impressed me was the innovation put into the dish- imagine grounding up such a marvelous piece of beef into hamburger patties. At a time when Many chefs might still cry, "sacrilege!" at such an ordeal, Manny, simply put didn't care.

After all, I guess, It's all about personal satisfaction. In this regard, Manny O's is a success.

The Hilton at Cebu Mactan was not classy but rather, timeless. It took the best from years of practice in fine dining and hospitality and reduced it to its most basic- and added to that the feel of the 21st century.


------------------------
Up and Coming:
Carcar Lechon
Swimming with whale sharks in Donsol
Pagudpod, the window to Paradise
Vigan:Living in History
The Philippine Islands of Wellness (featured Spas Mandala Spa, Chi Spa, Hilton Spa and Resort- Mactan Cebu, The Farm at San Benito)
Shopping guides in Thailand and Vietnam
-------------------------
Working seems to have made summer an all year affair for me and I love it.
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Journalism and the Blogging Revolution [18 Feb 2006|02:50pm]
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(am not happy with this but going through the crap will help me improve)


What started in 1994 as a way to satisfy one’s voyeuristic tendencies – that is in the form of “blogging” –often online expressions of should be personal rants but every now and then a written gem highlighting the limitless heights of the Word- has evolved into some kind of layman’s journalism.

Angst blogs
TV blogs
Movie blogs
News blogs
Sports blogs
Tech blogs
Sex blogs
Blogs about blogs.

The list is endless and the potential of this genre of writing, if you can call it such-boundless.

It seems everyone can be a blogger journalist. Everyone can sharpen his senses and report on the hurly-burly of just about anything. Let’s say micro-forms of corruption care of the impressionable Atenean – poor little thing, torn by his experience with a cracked-heel fixer and his quest for school-born philosophical truths. The result, more often that not, is a piece – not at all impeccably written, that attempts to be OBJECTIVE.

Cue: drum music.

Blogging is changing the media world and could, I think, has sparked a revolution in how journalism functions in our culture. Suddenly, the spoiled middle class of the new technology generation expects journalism to be like blogs.

Blogs are personal. Journalism too, to a degree, is personal. The selection of words, topics to cover everything is personal. but obejectivity enters in the attempt to cover all sides, in an attempt to learn the truth.

Quality blogging does the same and does not just end with the writer's point of view or rants.

Blogging also raises Marx from the dead. To be a published journalist in the Philippines means you have to subscribe to a media mogul. You need $$$ you need a publisher, you need an editor.

Blogging cuts through all that #@$#%&%*(&%#@@^*$%$#@#++^$#@$ and centralizes it all about YOU.

So why bother going through all the #@$#%&%*(&%#@@^*$%$#@#++^$#@$ when it can be all about you, in your time, in your space?

I have to admit though. this forum scares me. Writing is sacred. To be plagiarized is something I wish to avoid at all cost. In my recent survey, I found out that many people from the United States read my blog.

This has caused an inner revolution.

The Question next to be answered is simple: Would a self-respecting writer post her most precious commodity in cyberspace only to stolen and ripped, and used in some middle-school term paper?
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How to make a poem by Lara Acuin and Jamie Santos [12 Jan 2006|01:02am]
How to Make a Poem is a story about a girl searching for ideas for her next poem. She finds these ideas in the egg basket of her mind where colorful eggs are waiting to be hatched or forced open to reveal her innermost thoughts and desires. She mixes and matches the contents of these eggs to create her new literary work.
The poem is written, her job is done.

This photo essay aims to show how the mind operates during the creative process. It is about channeling our creativity and imagination whenever we feel the need to create and move.

Everything is quiet as she conceives her next poem.


She takes out her egg basket...


and listens.


The eggs are ready.


There are blue ones...


and green, orange and purple ones.


She breaks them open...


and puts the pieces together.




The poem is written...


and she is at peace.
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