"Why are you so offended by your own anatomy?"

The human body is such a beautiful thing.

I do not fully understand why it has become the subject of ridicule and perversion.

(click on image to see in full screen)

Reflection

This photo was taken some 7 years ago; I was only 14 years young (go ahead, do the math). I was doing a dance interpretation of the song "Reflection" by Christina Aguilera (OST of Mulan) for the very first pageant competition I have ever joined.

The man at the back was my choreographer. I sought his expertise because I had little, if not none at all, knowledge in coming up with steps for the song. Dance wasn't my major in highschool; I was a Theater artist. So although I had no problem projecting on stage, if it were not for my choreographer, I would have messed the whole routine up. 

I had bruises all over my body: my knees, my elbows, my arms, and wherever. I remember practicing splits everyday for the entire week preceding the performance. I'd wake up at dawn trying to perfect the pirouette and ballonné. Not to mention, I had to work with my facial expression and all. For a 14 year-old, that was tough. It was even tougher because I didn't initiate the joining of the competition. I was picked (and bribed... and blackmailed... and then they called my eager parents). I am not complaining though. I never did. In fact, I thank God I took part. Otherwise, I would never have witnessed the euphoric look on my parents and family's face when I won the competition. That was all that mattered to me.

When I handed the trophy to my father, it felt like that scene in Mulan. You know, that part when Mulan finally defeated the Huns, returned home and went to where his father, Fa Zhou, was: 

Mulan: [kneels] Father. I brought you the sword of Shan-Yu, and the crest of the Emperor. They're gifts, to honor the Fa family.

 [Fa Zhou drops the sword and crest on the ground and embraces Mulan]

Fa Zhou: The greatest gift and honor... is having you for a daughter. 

"The greatest gift and honor... is having you for a daughter."

So ok, I romanticized the whole thing a bit, but I did feel the pride my family had of me. It was the best feeling ever. I swore then that I'd continue doing just that--- bring honor to my family.

I suppose picking the song "Reflection" for my dance was no coincidence at all.

Original entry on January 21, 2012: Who would have thought moving on is possible?

If my life were a movie, I'd have to say, mine is nearing its credits.

Not because i'm going to eternal slumber or anything. No, it's a little less dramatic than that. My movie's about to end because I'm about to begin yet another sequel.

As to the question of whether or not the next one will be better, that I do not know. But I am hoping for the best (just like what every one in my specie is hoping for. No matter how much they deny it).
~~~~
So yes, my movie's about to end... and I'm glad.

I have come to this metaphor because, just like most movie plots, after the climax and the denouement, it is either a "fin" or the continuation of the heroine's tale that will follow.

Mine's the latter.

I personally admit that I had just gone through a rather heartbreaking drama and, thankfully, had just achieved an exhausting resolution.

I am currently at that part of that movie where the heroine had just achieved reconciliation with herself. She is seen sitting on a bench facing a seemingly infinite lake. Her wayward hair breezes lightly through her forehead but her face is at peace. She smiles as her past drowns away like the lingeringly sinking sun at the horizon. She closes her eyes for a moment, taking everything in with a pint of submission, acceptance and relief. She reopens her eyes slowly only to find the sun gone ---but also finding company with the person she never quite expected.

So yes, my dear friends. I believe it is time to put an end to this story.
Let the credits roll ,
let the themesong be played One. Last. Time,
and--- let us proceed.

This director is about to say, "THAT'S A WRAP!" to this movie.

I saw a digital photo of this while scrolling down my dashboard on tumblr last year and I thought I'd draw it. Turned out ok, I suppose. :)

The face doesn't matter when you're naked.

It probably has something to do with being comfortable with and by yourself. It’s not just your average stay-within-my-comfort-zone kind of thing. It’s about being able to battle your own troubled inward thoughts and that of the rest of the world —-and then you come out victorious. Like a glorious free woman should be.

When you realize that everyone else has left you and no one’s there to have your back, you have got to learn to strive for yourself and take care of what else is reduced of you. When somebody gives up on you, you have got to know how to rely on yourself. You cannot and must not always think that someone is out there to save you; this isn’t some religious story or some romanticized narration. You have to save yourself. Be your own hero so to speak.

In time, you will learn how it is not only to love yourself but how to show it. It is not selfishness. It is about self-worth and self-respect. So when the moment comes that someone will present himself before you, you need not expect much from him for you yourself already have what you need. There will be no disappointments should he fail to carry out what he promised. And should he have something more to offer, you will be able to gracefully accept it. You will feel Like a full cup, teeming beyond the brim.

It has been said that when you get a taste of one thing that feels good, you would always come back for more. I suppose there is some truth to it because months after I said I'll never draw again, I found myself with a pencil on hand and a sketchbook on my lap.

I stopped drawing to forget. Although it started great, there were just too many painful memories I could recall just at the thought of one stroke. Even looking at a disfigured eraser could mercilessly inundate my mind with long-past memories. I thought that if I'd pursue that art, I'd be incessantly hurting myself. So I stopped.

But then it hit me---why not create new memories? Surely, I can associate a much brighter thought to it than the gloriously catastrophic ending of a story I call a love affair. There must be something better... something happier. In an epiphanic moment, I decided I was not in the business of living my life avoiding the good things in fear of being reminded with the bad.

And so, with a more inspiring conviction and with less fear (if none at all), I draw once more.

N.B. I'll be posting them for the first time in the next posts.

How I started drawing

It wasn't long ago when I found out I knew how to draw. And when I say  "not long ago", I meant "not long ago". I was in my last semester of college, that was in the year 2010. My then boyfriend and I were on YM with our webcams on. While he was checking some random things online, I picked up a pencil and a paper and started drawing him.

This was my very first sketch. EVER!

It took me months before I showed him these sketches. I was shied by the fact that, for one, I drew him... and for another, that he might not like how I rendered him on paper. But when he finally saw it, he seemed pretty pleased (either that or he was just really kind). I was inspired, if not obsessed, with drawing him to the extent that I bought myself a sketchbook. I filled every page with drawings of him. When I had every page filled, I gave it to him as a present. It took me two fast months to finish it just so it would be done right in time for Christmas. Too bad I was unable to secure a copy. I hope he didn't throw it in the bin. I labored for that after all. *teehee* Although if he did, it was upon his rightful discretion.

When we broke up right before he went for the review for his license exam, I didn't stop drawing. I pursued it still, producing a number of sketches which he had not seen... Even when I was already in law school.

At that time, I have limited myself to drawing only him. I came up with these:

Until I came to the point wherein I stopped drawing. It was a decision which came to me like lightning. I stopped drawing in a flash! I took my pencils, gave it to my sister's kids and I tried to forget that I even knew how to draw.

But apparently things have their way of coming back to you no matter how much you try to avoid it to forget it. As to how... wait for my next post. :)

bring in the Kleenex!

My body’s been different lately. And no, I’m not talking about puberty.

It’s really weird how I’ve been getting frequently sick over the past few months. It has only been a few weeks past since I have had a fever, which, if I may add, unfortunately fell on my summer class’ final examination day. (And it cost me a few items on my test, thankyouverymuch.)

But then, even if I’m still trying to recover, here I am again facing yet another illness.

My eyes are actually drooping like that of a person with Horner’s syndrome as I continue to stare at the computer screen. With a tissue paper strategically wedged on my right running nostril, I am having hard time breathing --- *sniff-sniff*--- and with my left uncontrollably snuffling the dust off of my keyboard, my condition’s getting worse.

Yes, obviously, I have the colds.

I really just hope it’s not A(H1N1). Well, I haven’t been in contact with anyone who could’ve have had the virus. But in this age and time, not to mention with today’s disturbed state, nothing is impossible. Who knows if our Labrador, Rocky, might be nursing the viral disease? Or our boarder? Or the old lady who asked for scrap? Or the mosquito that feasted on my ever watertight legs yesterday?

Who knows, right?

To tell the truth, I think I got the colds from my niece. She was suffering from it last week and she might’ve contracted the disease to me. I haven’t left the house to go gallivanting since I had myself enrolled, so there’s a great chance Zeniah’s the culprit.
Out of all the possibilities that I have presented, together with the mosquito and all, I think this one’s 98% true. *teehee*

(Pause. I have to change the tissue paper on my right nostril with a fresh one. It’s getting soggy and unpleasantly heavy.)

…
…
…
…

Ok, where were we?

Aw, yeah--- the colds.

I was already in bed when I felt something mucoid from my nose. I kept wiping it off every now and then but there was just no stopping. It kept me awake thereafter.
So here I am, typing away this entry.

I haven’t taken any meds yet. I was supposed to take one this evening and I asked my mother for a cold tablet. Apparently, we ran out of stock. I’ve decided to fix myself some juice instead. But then again, we ran out of that as well. So, in the end, I settled with water and a glass of fresh milk.

So far, I don’t feel well. But I have faith. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll be better.

Pray for me? =D

shit happens

‘Shit happens,’ they say… true enough it always does.

I’m not likely to come in regular terms with neither Luck nor Wellness. I am more attached to Luck’s wicked brother Calamity.

The truth of the matter is I’ve subliminally been a living example of Murphy’s Law for almost all, if not all, my life: What can go wrong, will go wrong.

It has only been recently that I have finally affirmed this… or, say, accepted. It didn’t really occur to me that I was jinxed… and if, by chance, it did, it eventually landed up being tossed at the ‘stupid-idea’ box and shelved at the ‘crazy-speculation’ ledge. I always found ways to dismiss any thoughts, suggesting that I had badluck written all over me.

I assumed that getting lost at church at the age of 6, which almost got me adopted, was only a life-spicing encounter;
I assumed that falling down the stairs during 4th grade was just a call by science to prove ‘gravity’ to me;
I assumed that damaging or losing 15 cellphones by unnatural cause was an opportunity of having a new one every now and then;
I assumed that entering a classroom by mistake, thinking it was my subject room assignment, was a way of meeting new people (regardless of the humiliation of being acknowledged for not being on the class list);
I assumed that destroying 2 dvd players, 2 desktops, 1 laptop, 1 mp3 and 2 mp4 players(1 of which is not even mine), 2 headphones and 2 inkjet printers was just a matter of faulty gadget purchase;
I assumed that my failure to take a picture of Chito Miranda at the Boracay airport even though he was literally sitting right next to me was because it would’ve made me appear like a pathetic fanatic (though I have nightmares about that meeting every night since then).

I have had myriad assumptions that got me off the hook from being called ill-fated. To some, those were lame excuses; to me, those were justifying reasons.

But it took me only one head-knocking incident to jolt me back to sentience:
Getting my hair stuck at the vent of my hair blower was the last straw.

I could still feel pain at the area where the blower bestowed its hot kisses the other day… its really HOT kisses. It was so hot; I think it fried my mind to ultimately conclude that I am indeed a mistress of calamity.

I don’t really know why life has chosen to torment me out of a billion other people. I mean, I’m good. I’m so good I could be Mother Theresa incarnate…

So how come bad things happen to me?