Beat the Beauty Rut!

Here's the article I was talking about in my Got Shrimp? post:

(click on the image)

Get a beauty boost from new makeup finds.
(from left to right) M.A.C. Studio Fix Powder Plus Foundation in NC30, Fluidline Eye-Liner Gel in Waveline, Nail Lacquer in Rougemarie, #263 Eyeliner Brush,
Select Moisturecover in NW20.

Yep, I shot this photo. Under 'strict' orders from my editor, I am to provide better visuals for my column. So now, I must unearth my resourcefulness and creativity to come up with tantalizing images to accompany these precious beauty articles.

Tips and leads are most welcome!

Sounds Good

In the middle of deadlines, I decided to tune in to RX 93.1 online, and get some good music from back home. I realized, Manila has become a melting pot of sorts when it comes to two major genres of music: House and Hip-hop. Okay, and a third: Pop.

During my Cosmo and Seventeen editor years, I got to meet the likes of Paul Van Dyk, Chicane/Nick Bracegirdle, Michelle Branch, and have witnessed countless gigs and amazing performances of both pop artists and under-the-radar but superbly talented musicians.

Going out in New York has proven to be a little bit frustrating, because clubs here seem to be encased in a music time capsule. (Seriously, "One More Time" is old!)

Meanwhile, I'm intently perusing a DJ career (okay, you can laugh now). I'm currently on the lookout for a serious curriculum so I can finally get to the turntables—as a professional. (Look out, Sam Ronson!)

Dreaming and DJ-ing aside, deadlines take centerstage for now.

Click here to start streaming.


A little bit of trivia...
In 2002, I trained briefly at NU107 to do the morning news, under the expertise of Joyce Titular a.k.a. J.D. and Zach Lucero (remember, Zach and Joey in the Morning? THAT Zach.)

Got shrimp?

A funny thing happened on the way home today. While I was typing some notes on my phone for next week's article, I'd automatically misspelled the word 'prone,' and ended up with the following phrase:

"If you're prawn to undereye circles..."

And I copy-edit for a living! Ayayay! :D

Gossip World

A few years ago I’d made a resolution to never indulge in gossip as much as I could help it. Of course there is always Hollywood and high society (hello, who can resist a bit of Lezlo?) but when it comes to spreading rumors and saying anything bad about other people:
Count. Me. Out.

On another (juicy?) note, my recent piece in the Inquirer is about dealing with bad hair moments, hence, the headbanded photo of Leighton Meester a.k.a. Gossip Girl’s Blair Waldorf. Click here if you’ve missed it, or check out the archive on the righthand side of the page. Next week’s piece should be fun, tips on how to get out of a beauty rut, wherein I detail last Saturday’s delicious trip to the M.A.C. store with Filipino makeup maven Marge Enrique, now based in L.A.

A Taste of Vegas

A stained-glass-adorned ceiling that supposedly costs millions of dollars.

"When I grow up, my house will have huge fountains of dark and white chocolate."

"The only seafood buffet in Las Vegas," according to the Rio poster.

The dancing water show. (I need the correct name.)

It was nice how they lit the ceiling to make it look like daytime, anytime.

"Shining, shimmering, splendid..."

Lakers vs. Sacramento. Please don't ask me about basketball.

Swimsation

I haven't bought a pair of goggles and a swim cap in years. Actually, make that, never. Growing up in the 80s, my family had an assortment of swimming paraphernalia to satisfy every kind of water baby: from the serious and not-so-serious adult lap swimmers, down to the languid loungers (us kids).

I did attend swimming lessons one summer. But being a sickly child with multiple bouts of tonsilitis throughout the year, my swimming 'career'—for lack of a better term—never really took off and ended way before I could stop gasping for air during the Freestyle. Maybe that also explains why the only strokes I am confident doing are the Breast and Back stroke. The Butterfly at this point is only a figment of my imagination.

But after recently signing up at the YMCA, I figured, why not swim again? At the sporting goods store last weekend, I had some sort of epiphany: I do like sports, I've done my share of them (martial arts, running, biking, rockclimbing)—but not seriously enough to unearth a competitive drive (or edge) found in successful athletes.

Looking back, when I was doing Taekwondo, I enjoyed the training sessions but hated the competitions. Back in climbing, I loved the daily trips to the gym and weekend climbs out of town, but again, hated competing. As for running, well, let's just say I dread the thought of training for a marathon.

I just want to enjoy these activities without feeling the pressure of having to win something. Or beating a certain time, reaching a certain rank. I revel in the quiet pursuit of that first drop of sweat, first ache of muscle, without having anybody gauge (or watch) how I go about finding my way back to fitness.

Driven to Work

On my way to Serafina on Sunday I walked past this guy and couldn't help going back to ask him about this way too intiguing "mobile office"—in its most literal sense.

Me: "Um, excuse me, may I take your picture?"
Guy: [nodding nonchalantly] "Sure."
Me: "Thanks. So, what work do you do here?"
Guy: [really wanting me to go away, now] "I'm a freelance writer and editor."
Me: "Oh my gosh! Me too! But I don't have this office."

I managed to squeeze out a name (Stefan) who mentioned that on weekends, this was where he conducted work. According to a friend, she's seen him parked near where she worked. So I guess this guy's pretty serious about this whole writing-on-weekends-on-the-mobile-office kind of thing. Flowers, desk lamp, stapler, and all.

With slumber comes responsibility

Week 2 of freelancing and surprisingly I’m… having fun. After give or take two or three weeks of being paralyzed by fear, wanting to sleep all day, and getting my new ‘office’ in order (Staples and cables now in place), I am now settling into a workable routine. One good hair day at a time.

My Mondays have become an unplanned, yet welcome, foray into the culinary arts. Last week was highlighted by gooey dark chocolate brownies and homemade banana-walnut-chocolate chip muffins; this week it’s a big batch of spaghetti in cheesy tuna tomato sauce. (I’m on day three and the last serving.)

What used to be a morning dilemma of what fabulous outfit to start the week right (along with subway-friendly heels that are high enough to make me reach the stainless steel bars yet comfy enough to keep bunions a distant future concern) has become a happy ritual of donning my new apple red apron from Crate and Barrel. True, I miss the beautiful cafeteria at my former office, but right now I’m amazed at how I’m NOT spending at all. And my finances—though skeletal at the moment—are developing the backbone needed for a stable, disciplined, money-smart future. It’s true when you’re slapped with an unexpected lesson, you learn hard—and fast.

I’m far away from resting on my laurels just yet (or in my dad’s words, “sitting on my garlands”). But this journey is taking unexpected and exciting turns and cliché as this may be, the journey is more important than the destination.

And speaking of fun destinations, I’m going to the Hamptons for the first time this weekend. It’s work-related, but I’m thrilled nonetheless :)

Good morning, America!

Today marks my first year in this "sliver of an island that is the center of everything," in the words of my friend, Oliver—who, turns out, is currently immersed in the pages of Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged.

I still remember the first time I'd picked up The Fountainhead, also by the author. At nineteen, and in the middle of college, I had just moved out from living with relatives and I'd popped by my dad's office to let him know I would be occupying his unused room in the apartment he shared with his sister.

"Buy this book, it has everything you need to know," he said, referring to the thick novel I'd seen around growing up, but never really bothered to pick up because, well, it was... quite hefty. But when I got past the first 100 pages, I knew why my dad had purposefully written its name on a little sheet of paper and sent me to the nearest National Bookstore to make the purchase (with his money, presumably).

True enough, the two books above have helped shape the way I've lived my life for the last 10 years—personally and most importantly, professionally. It's hard to explain in just one entry the philosophy behind these novels. Basically, they herald one's performing in full capacity, getting the job done silently, passionately, and being a good citizen/employee/friend, minus the hooplah and drama.

Ayn Rand is famous for this philosophy of "objectivism." But what makes her work in Fountainhead and Atlas groundbreaking is that she was able to integrate the complicated philosophical musings into intricate, entertaining stories—with richly-drawn characters you either aspire to be or cringe to be. In recent months, I have been amazed at how she was able to put into words certain observations I've made personally from living in the U.S.

So now I am onto rereading these books, and hopefully, be inspired and motivated once more by what they represent. These, along with a steadfast faith in God and a strong belief that life is good, life is abundant, I know I'll be looking forward to more happy anniversaries in the future.

Playing Office

On my first official day as a full-fledged freelancer, this is how my kitchen looked like. And now I have time to blog and get my online life in order.

My last day aboard the mother ship was quite serene and uneventful. Perhaps because I feel that I will still be a frequent passenger anyway. After all, I am not one to say goodbye to a hearty, savory bowl of Ocean Don. No, no, no.

Meanwhile, I have a beckoning to-do list. Between beating procrastination and battling paralyzing fear (i.e. Will I make the rent? Will I get enough projects to sustain my Whole Foods addiction habit? Will I finally meet Lindsay Lohan and Sam Ronson?) I am tackling tasks as well as planning for the future.

It's time to heed my own advice.

July felt like a theme park ride—dizzying, exciting, and at times, disorienting.

Okay, I know I haven't been blogging as often as... well, what cyberspace deems of its bloggers in this age of quick links and live feeds.

So there is my requisite oh-no-I-haven't-blogged intro. Anyway, here are my updates so far:

• Met the Patrimonio sisters (teen tennis players) and their mom for an interview. We met up at David Burke, a chi-chi cafe at the side of Bloomingdales. Overpriced, but cute. [See photo.] My feature is out today in the Inquirer.

• Former Preview fashion editor, Anne, is back in Manila now, but not before having a blast at Dante's Fourth of July Barbecue Bash. My friends and I had invited ourselves to an unwitting Dante, who ended up grilling steak on the deck of his lovely townhouse in Jersey City. I am finally enjoying Facebook, as I've successfully uploaded our pics there.

• Saw Hilary Roda, Gwyneth Paltrow, Elizabeth Hurley, and Carolyn Murphy at Estée Lauder's Sensous fragrance launch at Bloomies.

• What else? Sorry for this cryptic entry, my creative juices are being directed elsewhere at the moment, while I try to beat procrastination. Meanwhile, I'll let these pictures do the talking:

Murakami exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum.
Doing the whole floral thing with Anne.
Brunch at Serafina. This photo is priceless. But I won't say why ;)
Green day. Oh dear, that's so corny. Uploading more photos later!

Hello, Cosmo!

When I first saw the cover of this month's issue with Judy Ann Santos on the cover, I was blown away! I am so proud to have been part of this amazing team that puts out such a wonderful, dynamic read, month after month.

This issue is special, too, because one, my On My Mind piece on leaving one's comfort zone is in it, ("The Comfort Clause" p.176) and two, my Neighbor, Frances [far right in photo], looks gorgeous in one of the features ("Full Speed Ahead" p. 148). I was just raving yesterday about how her hair is so nice, and her skin, so fine (and exfoliated!). Galing!

Please grab a copy while you still can.

Cover photographed by Dix Perez
Dress: BCBG
Accessories: Monet, D!, and Cru
Makeup: Steven Doloso
Hair: Raymond Santiago for L'Oréal Professionnel
Fashion editor: Katrina Dy

Hot, Hot Housewarming

Little morsels of bliss: salmon, cream cheese, and caviar crostini.

Doing some catching up here. Click on the photo for more fun pics from Dave and Louie's happy housewarming party last May 31, where I won a Chi by Carlos Falchi handbag! The evening's theme was "Runway" and everyone showed up decked to the nines. (As for moi, I whipped out the false lashes and tubs of bronzer.)

Busy Business

Saying "I've been so busy" or "I've been so swamped lately" has already become some sort of cliche whether you live in Manhattan or Manila. But truth is, the phrases do apply to the state of my daily worklife lately—which I am taking as a good sign, right? Unfortunately, when this happens, the blog is the first to suffer a backslide. (Oops, I did it again.)

One of my favorite titas [aunts] used to say, "It's
easy to get lost in the busy-ness." She may have been referring to learning how to prioritize the important things in life, e.g. family, friends, and not just work. Back then (early twenties) I had been so immersed in my career as a young beauty editor at Seventeen, and later on Cosmo and Ok! Magazine.

These days, I would like to think that I have struck a balance between the kind of busy-ness that is healthy (a variety of preoccupations is key: desk job during the day, raket-raket [freelance gigs] at night, and yes I try—friends and family first) and the kind that makes you a slave to your Blackberry (I still don't have one, thank goodness!).

Anyway, in an effort to re-integrate myself into blogging, I am answering one of these very self-indulgent questionnaires that are just so fun regardless of their narcissistic qualities. This particular one is from the March 2008 issue of Elle, with Amy Adams on the cover. (I bought this magazine in February and I only got to read it today.) The original answers are by Narciso Rodriguez, italicized:

Elle Fashion Genius
(page 222)

Other than yourself, who is your favorite designer [writer]?
Cristóbal Balenciaga
The writers of Sex and the City the series.

If you could come back as a dress, which one would it be?
Lady Godiva's
A dress I saw in Harper's BAZAAR, I forget whose...
[This came out in the U.S. edition and adapted by the Russian edition for its cover.]

If you could come back as a model, who would you be?
Violeta Sánchez
Giselle Bundchen. I just wonder how it feels to be that gorgeous...

What's your favorite color?
Blue
Here we go again with this question hahaha.

What are you most vain about?
My weight
Skincare.

What are you most shy about?
Too shy to say.
My paunchy midsection ;)

If you could have somebody else's body, whose would it be?
Evandro Soldati's.
Ornusa Cadness's.

Who are you fantasy dinner party guests?
Louis Armstrong, Coco Chanel, Lee Miller, James Franco, Anaïs Nin, Romy Schneider, Gabriele D'Annunzio, Alain Delon, Abraham Lincoln, Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, George Sand, and Amy Winehouse.
Diane Von Furstenburg, Martha Stewart, Meryll Streep, Hilary Duff, Paris Hilton, Henry Cavill. And then Henry Cavill will stay behind and help me do the dishes, woo hoo!!!

Where is your favorite place to have a drink?
Angel's Share, East Village, NYC.
In Manila, M Cafe. In Manhattan, Casellula.

What's your underwear of choice?
Zimmerli.
Marks & Spencer: the ones they sell a la Fruit of the Loom in packs of five or six—they last forever.

What's the last book you read?
Absurdistan by Gary Shteyngart.
Lipstick Jungle by Candace Bushnell. Now I'm rereading Basic Black by Cathie Black.

Do you have any pets?
Yes, three dogs, named Lucky, John, and Clifford
Basti.

What do you eat for breakfast?
Coffee, protein shake, egg whites.
I have a new mid-year resolution to start eating breakfast at home.

At age seven, you wanted to be:
A monk.
Most probably Betty or Veronica. Most likely Veronica.

What is one thing you find easiest to forgive?
A mistake.
An honest mistake.

What is one thing you find impossible to forgive?
Dishonesty.
Same.

Do you have any supertitions?
Many.
I try not to be superstitious but sometimes I really can't help it.

What's your biggest self-indulgence?
Ice cream.
Cheese.

Favorite place to shop?
Ted Muehling Store on Howard Street, NYC.
I haven't shopped in ages so for now I will say Zara. Today I've discovered Intermix though but I'm still a long way from calling it a fave.

Whose wallet would you like to steal?
No one's.
Ivanka Trump's.

Whose diary would you most like to read?
George W. Bush's.
Angelina Jolie's nannies'.

If you were an inventor, what would you invent?
A time machine.
A contraption that makes one fly (as in like a jet-backpack).

Who is your favorite furniture designer?
Poul Kjaerholm.
Alas, I am still in the Ikea stage.

What's your favorite car?
1967 Porsche 911.
My car in Manila! It's no longer mine now: Chevy Optra.

What was your childhood nickname?
"Cisito," diminutive of "Ciso" (my father), diminutive of "Narciso" (my grandfather).
Maan. Short for Mariel Antonette.

When and where are you happiest?
The holidays at my home in Brazil.
Siesta with Alvs.

Who is your best friend?
Annick.
I don't like the term. I'd been traumatized in high school so I try not to use it.

What is your worst enemy?
Cigarettes.
Sugar. But I adhere to the "Keep your enemies close" credo hehe.

What piece of art would you most like to own?
Gerhard Richter's 439.
Hmm... not there yet. Same as Ikea stage. I like Jack Vettriano's work though.

Where is your favorite vacation spot?
Bahia, Brazil.
Mustique is the dream. Palawan is the plan.

Who is your favorite fictional character?
Cartman on South Park.
She's usually fictionalized: Anne Boleyn.

What is your most treasured possession?
A handwritten letter from a late friend.
I can't think of anything at the moment. Maybe my portfolio because it has all the original clips?

Your favorite band/musician/song?
Radiohead.
Song: Fade by Solu Music featuring Kimblee. Band: Phoenix

If you weren't a designer [writer] what yould you be?
An architect.
A pastry chef.

What current trend would you like to see disappear?
Grotesque accessories.
I have to pay more attention to credibly answer this question.

What's your biggest fashion regret?
A mullet.
Wearing a Giordano polo shirt and pants—thinking that's what "semi-formal" and "dressed" meant—at a movie premiere when I was a freshman in college. Everyone else wore black dresses. That is probably one of the reasons why I am always overdressed now hahaha!

Favorite trend of all time?
Jeans.
Dresses and playsuits—they're so easy and fun to wear!

Worst trend of all time?
Logomania.
The only thing I could think of at the moment is back in 2001 or so, magazines kept on showing models wearing pointy-pumps, with colored socks. It just looked wrong, even if I didn't know much about fashion at the time.

Always:
Be cool.
Choose happiness and honesty.

Never:

Not cool.
Lie and backbite.

The New FN

The "French Lessons" post below can also be viewed at the revamped, relaunched, FemaleNetwork.com—Summit Media's digital darling.

I know, I know: I haven't blogged in two weeks. I have very valid reasons but I'm keeping mum for now. Come June though, I'll be chronicling these precious New York minutes full-force once more.

Meanwhile, please enjoy this lovely "new" site!

PS—
When I get back, I will tell you all about:

1) Meeting Clive Owen...
2) ...and George Clooney!!!

The two of them. In one week :)

French Lessons

My one-phrase-a-week French resolution is still up and running, although in recent weeks I have upped the ante and started learning song verses, instead of my usual "Où sont les toilettes?" and "Where's the supermarket?" So I am onto Anggun's "La Neige au Sahara" (Snow On The Sahara) and hopefully, expertly sing along soon—once I get past the second stanza. ("Perdu dans le désert/Tu es perdu dans le désert oh oh...")

Last week my Parisian colleague, Caroline, invited me over her apartment for dinner. We picked up some penne, fresh peppers, arugula, cream and baguettes from the neighborhood grocer and bakery before heading to the cute abode she shares with Raphael.

Pasta is a mainstay in my everyday fare, but more than anything I was curious to see how the true-blue French made theirs. Do they eat bread with it? (Yes! "Bread replaces the knife" apparently. Yehey!)

I must say it was a pleasure having a very educational dinner. We all compared notes on how Asians/Pinoys and the French sequence their food during a meal. "We eat salad and cheese AFTER the main course," shared Raphael. "Ah, okay, I'll do that now," I say. And after getting bored I go on switch to Pinay mode and start eating my salad, cheese, and pasta, all together now. What can I say? Old (Manila) habits die hard.

I'm off in a few minutes to join friends at a Filipino restaurant on the Lower East Side. I hope they have boneless bangus and fried egg.

Bon appetit!

Live Out Loud

With Cara and her friend, Chris.

I just got home from my boss's fund-raiser gala called "Live Out Loud," a yearly event that recognizes young gay and lesbian achievers, and awards scholarships to these deserving students. It was held at the Chelsea Art Museum, and my other boss took care of everyone's tickets (whew!).

I used to go to events left and right back when I was beauty ed, and these days, the chance to mingle and attend these fun gatherings are truly a treat. And I have more fun than ever because they don't come as often and they're no longer taken for granted.

My train ride home was a happy, steady buzz, thanks to two glasses of Chardonnay, cute little hors'd ouvres, and tiny slivers of lemon cream cake. I was this close to hop-scotching my way home, enjoying the music on my Shuffle, unsuccessfully trying to stifle the urge to sing along to Bill Medley and Jennifer Warns's "Time of My Life" (from the movie, Dirty Dancing).

I thought to myself: Dating, crushes, and relationships aside—this, is me.

THIS is where I'm supposed to be.

And I am definitely enjoying and excited for this adventure that is Manhattan.

"Just remember...
You're the one thing
I can't get enough of
So I'll tell you something
This could be love
Because
I've had the time of my life
No I never felt this way before..."

Fagnet, the Chic Magnet

(from left to right: moi, Kim, Melissa, Louie, Sandy, and Dave)

Why is it that gay men seem to exude style and chic-ness effortlessly, whether it's cuisine, clothing, or something as mundane as a (designer) corkscrew?

My gay "parents" Dave and Louie recently invited me to a semi-housewarming at their lovely new apartment in Astoria. I'd been forewarned that the place "was not yet ready" and that they "have not fully unpacked."

I'd expected boxes and dusty furniture to greet me at the doorway but instead I was met with soft, plush carpeting, high-priced home accoutrements and sleek electronics. I oohed and ahhed in between mouthfuls of salmon and cream cheese canapes and a modest (but tasty) spread of exotic soft cheeses, assembled in the cute corner kitchen.

Bottles of red and white wine fueled this relaxing get-together of mostly *girls* and by midnight everybody had reached a giddy buzz. Louie then opened the zebra-print chest (that currently doubles as the living room's low table) and unearthed his grandmother's vintage fur(!) collection—and everyone got camera-ready as you can see!


Somewhere between fur fittings and a viewing of Cutting Edge ("We're doing the Pam-chengco!") the couple nicknamed me 'Fagnet'—a classier(?) take on the fag hag.

I really don't mind. These days I am seriously getting an incredibly thorough glimpse of Manhattan's *gay* scene, and I feel like a queen floating around in the requisite Cher bob/wig. Last Friday Dave took me to see Little Mermaid on Broadway and I got a taste of not one, but two Midtown and Chelsea hotspots in one night, also thanks to Joseph Aloysius, my friend's va-va-voom brother.

Despite the initial culture-shock (heterosexual couples doing PDA already make me uncomfortable, what more two guys in liplock?) I found a certain lightheartedness and fun hanging out with the inherently stylish gender. "Just don't date them," my boss warned.

Well, the premise that they are not exactly date-able creates a happy buffer that makes life easier, and much, much fun :)

But no, I'm not gonna start saying "Charing!" just yet. I'll leave that to the true-blue hags ;)

My NY "parents" Dave and Louie—aren't they gorgeous?

"One, two, three...fur. Tell me what you're looking fur."

Spring's here!

Ahh... The joy of something you've waited for coming to fruition :)

"It's nice out" indeed!

I know I've posted 10,000 versions of this picture and blogged about it one time too many. I just can't seem to get enough of this view from the Mother Ship! Today, the sky is a soothing blue, casting the most serene backdrop for little clusters of white fluffy clouds, sparsely thrown into the mix for contrast.
These buildings stand robust and tall, as if saluting—and welcoming—the beautiful spring season ahead. And at last, my storm has passed :)

Rock 'n Rain

As you know I'd spent Friday night watching the Goo Goo Dolls Live in Buffalo concert dvd (a recording of their July 4, 2004 homecoming gig). Many articles and reviews have been written marveling at the band's seamless performance and professionalism—
considering the unexpected DOWNPOUR smack in the middle of the show. Johnny Rzeznik's perfectly tousled tresses instantly transformed into a soggy mop of rockstar locks—still cute in my opinion, in a way only someone famous could pull off.

Thoughts of electrocution came to mind, followed by envy for those who'd witnessed the musical spectacle (and yes, Rzeznik's sexy crooning, flirty gazes, biceps and all). Among several favorite scenes and songs, one worth noting is the part where Rzeznik peels off his drenched black tank, wrings it, and flings it to the crowd. Cut to the next scene, he is singing "Acoustic #3" while the rest of the set is now covered in plastic. Bassist Robby Takac joins him in "Broadway," and you get shivers down your spine as you watch stagehands frantically uncover the drum set, and drummer Mike Malinin enters in PERFECT CUE right after:

"...see the young man sleeping in the old man's bar/
Waiting for his turn to die..."



And the band—plus the crowd that stayed put and braved the storm—roars back to life! *SIGH*

Speaking of percussionists with awesome musical timing, I read an interview of Dave Grohl from the Foo Fighters a while back. Apparently, he had been a drummer prior to becoming band leader, and he still thinks of himself as a drummer at heart. To paraphrase, he said something about how cool it is being the drummer because all the psycho girls go for the lead vocalist, and the decent ones go for the other band members. Cute. Click here for a tongue-in-cheek, funny interview of Malinin—who runs ultra marathons when he's not touring with the band—and see clearly how the people at the back really don't mind being un-cool, and therefore become the real cool ones by default.

As I watched the rain pour in the video, and see clearly how the band was totally performing in their element, literally and figuratively immersed in the moment, I got reminded of a particular 'rainy run' from back in college, at the height of my sportclimbing days. I was on strict curfew and only had a few hours after school to swing by the climbing gym, and squeeze in a workout with friends (in the guise of a late afternoon "class").

We usually drove to U.P., parked the car where the mountaineers hung out, and did the whole route along the campus outskirts. On one particular day—this I remember distinctly because I wrote about it in my journal, back when blogging was still unheard of, if not non-existent—in the middle of the run, it started raining: nothing like a dainty drizzle, but fat, globs of water loudly splattering on the pavement. And instead of halting, we all savored the cooling drops on our tired muscles and sweaty backs [hydro-massage anyone?]. Perhaps it was the adrenalin rush, we all ended up running back to the climbing gym, as we were way too soaked to hop back in the car. I still remember the feeling: the excitement, the light-heartedness, the euphoric spring in our step, which I relished as I rushed to make it home on time.

Going back to the Goo Goo Dolls, "Iris" was on heavy rotation that year. It was 1998, I was 18, oblivious to rest of the world, naive. Back then it was all about simple pleasures, good coffee, good music, enlightening conversations, conquering cliffs, surf trips, classes. There was no career to worry about, no beauty desks, no New York plans, and definitely no London dreams.

One day I'll put on my running shoes again, and try to recapture that wonderful familiar feeling.

Casellula Night

I honestly believe that many a friendship are forged over huge glasses of wine, hunks of good cheese, and fat slices of chocolate cake. I met up with a friend last Wednesday at this quaint, wine and cheese place tucked in a street midtown, just a few blocks from work. NH left an incredibly thriving modelling career in Manila to study fashion design at Parsons.

When it comes to Manhattan hotspots, I gravitate towards the quiet, quaint, and fabulous; or the incredibly obscure and anti-social—like the small tavern where a friend bartends on the Lower East Side: a true-blue dive with the requisite dim incandescent bulb over the beat-up pool table, vintage jukebox, and a cash register that paints a picture of 19th century Manhattan in your head.

On the flipside, when a place gets too packed (and trendy) that it requires one to adjust to a few decibels louder when conversing and to battle beefy—and very snooty— bouncers: Count. Me. Out.

Fortunately Casellula rose up to the challenge of being 'quaint and fabulous' without being pretentious, serving up honest-to-goodness topnotch wine, authentic French cheese, and freshly-baked dessert in an ambient neighborhood setting. NH and I conversed like long-lost friends, sharing tidbits and tirades from a life left behind, over gourmet grilled cheese, olives, and sweet pairings. And before we knew it it was already past 1am, and the temperature had dropped to the 30s (on a day I'd chosen to wear an airy spring dress).

I'm not sure if this slight brush with hypothermia is what's causing me to feel under-the-weather at the moment, like the early stages of flu where one's throat is scratchy and knees feel wobbly. I'll try to sleep it off but will close this entry pondering whether in life, if it truly is possible to have your cake (drizzled with fresh cream) and eat it too?

And if so, what exactly are the consequences?

Listening to: "Say Goodnight and Go" by Imogen Heap.

Another Friday

No, I didn't catch another movie alone in Times Square, that was getting to be too depressing. The watching-alone part was okay, but the no-one-to-talk-to-after-the-movie bit was insufferable—the silence was deafening and only made coping with this long-distance relationship, worse.

My weekend salve, this time, came in the form of a last-minute trip to Border's and an equally impulsive purchase of The Goo Goo Dolls Live in Buffalo concert dvd (a.k.a. that famous rainy gig) and the Marie Antoinette soundtrack (loved Sofia Coppola's Lost In Translation OST so this should be good. But I haven't seen "Let them eat cake" yet.) To justify this sort of shopping 'spree', I had to skip Friday night cocktails with friends. (Does that officially make me a loser?)

Oh, but I didn't exactly forego some form of libation: As I am nursing this almost-flu, I intend to drink as much orange juice until it comes out of my ears. At the office I downed Tropicana from cute little cartons—this weekend's version is a bigger box spiked with Absolut Apeach.

Bottoms up.

10 Things I Loved About Easter Weekend

1. Fizzy ginger ale and fresh lemons—great for battling the sniffles before they even start.

2. Fresh strawberry 'salad' in sugary lemon juice 'dressing'. Another 'natural' (and delicious!) way to get your vitamin C.

3. Mushroom and blue cheese crepe at Ciao Bella.

4. Espresso shot and Mocha Chip and Hazelnut Gelato for dessert.

5. Ciao Bella Lemon-Basil Gelato (strange, but good).

6. Spoiled Diva Pedicure at Dashing Diva.

7. Inquirer column in the works.

8. Very beautiful Easter mass. Literally felt like heaven's gates were opening, thanks to the string quartet's rendion of Mozart's Missa Brevis in C Major. (No, I know nothing about classical music, and yes, I read this info on the Missale.)

9. My first brownies! From Nigella Lawson's 'Triple Chocolate Brownie' recipe on YouTube. It was oh-mmy-gggosh at first bite.

10. Saturday afternoon with Dave and Louie, my fave couple of the moment.
And yep, that's the closest thing to a real smooch (Louie) I'm ever going to get until *August* and a guy sniffing close enough to comment "Mmm, your perfume smells good, what is it?" (Dave). Sigh.

Seriously, a long-distance-relationship is the medical board/bar exam equivalent of the Marshmallow Test.