Blast from the past

When I started spending summer at my mother's almost 10 years ago, I brought with me several items. To name a few: a Sony Walkman cassette recorder (a Christmas and birthday gift from my dad which was pretty neat back then because it had a plug-in microphone and customizable features), my first laptop (it weighed a brick), climbing gear (I was an avid sport and rockclimber back then), and clothes I wore throughout college.

As Mom—the one who basically took care of my wardrobe needs as a vain kid—left for the States middle of high school, by the time college rolled around, my wardrobe was at its most streamlined. When I remind her of those years, she gets really sad and refuses to listen any further. So in the last decade or so, she's compensated by buying me one too many things.

During her first trip back to Manila after being gone five years, she noticed I looked "yagit" (a Filipino word meaning really, really poor) which broke her heart. Immediately she took me on a shopping spree that practically lasted her whole vacation. (I still have underwear from that shopping trip.)

Anyway, she saved some of my old clothes—mostly T-shirts—from those years and a couple of days ago, I unearthed the contents of the box. So I'll share them with you.

I had a Mickey Mouse T-shirt fixation that stemmed from a high school crush who wore a vintage one at a party. I was a senior and he was a freshman (or sophomore?) at the university. I never really got to know him, but the Disney shirts outlasted my crush on that guy.

If there was one thing I distinctly remember wearing during freshman year in college, it was this Seventeen top from Cinderella. It just went with everything! Plus, it was a hand-me-down from my mom.

If you asked people who knew me back in college, they would say I was perennially clad in shorts and Birkenstocks. The particular piece in front is a Collezione "skort"—a bottom piece that looks like a skirt outside but is actually a pair of shorts underneath and from behind. Clever, eh?

This shirt was special because I got it on my family's first trip to Pearl Farm in Davao and my first time to ride a plane ever—at 17 years old! Anyway, I had another shirt with the print, Durian Republic. Years later I would meet the owner of the shirt company, who now owned a famous coffee shop in the south called Blugré.

Like I've mentioned earlier, I was an avid climber. And this is a tank from a national sport climbing competition I'd joined in Cebu. I have wonderful memories of those years and to this day my palms get sweaty whenever the subject of rockclimbing comes up.

One, Two, Three, Sharpie

If THAT doesn't put a smile on your face, then I don't know what will :) Imagine rows and rows of Sharpie markers of different shapes (regular, retractable) and sizes (fine, ultra-fine, chisel). I was wandering the aisles of Office Depot earlier today shopping for supplies when I came across this cornucopia of colors. At $1.69 a pop, you can't go wrong with this treat.

Remember those magnetic pencil boxes in 80's that were like mini-gadgets sorts, with buttons that made compartments and a bevy of other 'features' pop out? I have the fondest memories of back-to-school shopping at National Bookstore (and Cinderella for the Esprit notebooks; I was ten at the time!).

In the town I spent my grade school years in, a small bookstore across campus sold Garfield notebooks and those with local celebrities printed on them (the likes of Romnick Sarmienta and Sheryll Cruz at the height of their stardom). My mother and cousin used to threaten to buy me those at the start of the schoolyear. You see, I was a pretty vain kid and I was very particular about what I bought. My notebooks had to be nice. My bags had to be nice. My socks had to be nice... Oh boy!

That said, I had really ugly handwriting. I used to copy all the popular girls' handwriting and didn't come to my own until much later in high school. And then I got better and better at note-taking as the years went by, all the way to my adult working life. So there goes the trajectory of my office-supply fascination.

Big Move

I'm in the middle of moving my archived Inquirer articles to a new home: BeautyintheBigApple.com. If you don't buy the paper or regularly scan the Lifestyle section over at Inquirer.net, the new site is a good place to check back and read the beauty pieces I write almost every week. For a sneak preview, just click on the photo and you'll see what I've been up to (aside from my 30-day Blog Challenge).

As you can tell, I'm also making some changes around here at NyMinuteNow.com. I have yet to find a new, more widget-friendly template to match the sentiment and content. I find that I spend time customizing gadgets and fiddling with codes and photos so they fit better in the sidebar: time that can be spent writing blog posts and optimizing my life—in and out of the web.

New York, Baby

My friend Lille introduced me to Leona Naess's music a couple of years ago. Her songs are mainstays on my iTunes playlist: Sunny Sunday, I Tried To Rock You But You Only Roll, and of course—Charm Attack ("Oh with your gorgeous grin/ You have the world sucked in/ Believing in everything you saaaayy.../ Watch out, he'll charm you." That was probably my 2003 anthem!).

Earlier she shared a Blip.fm link to New York Baby that somehow got lost in my music library; it's the first time I've heard it again in years. Only now, its lyrics hit so close to home and it's painful to listen to:

Well the heat has fallen down
All across this desolate town
And the concrete jungle is dead
As I lie here in my bed
And I'll stand here till the fall
And ignore the summer's call

You know what they say

New York, baby is no place to be
When you're standing alone
I'm no one's baby, I'm no one's girl
Come home, baby come home

Well the city she throws and throws
While the restless collect sand through their toes
And you try to get from A to B
Spend your weekends by the sea
But I'm just waiting for you
Yeah, I'm just waiting for you

You know what they say

New York, baby is no place to be
When you're standing alone
I'm no one's baby, I'm no one's girl
Come home, baby come home

New York, baby
They all landing, by the sun
Step in oh God, everyone
All I'm trying is waiting for you
Yeah, I'm just waiting for you

New York, baby is no place to be
When you're standing alone
I'm no one's baby, I'm no one's girl
Come home, baby come home

New York, baby
New York, baby
New York, baby

I'm coming home, someday
I'm coming home, someday
I'm coming home

So THAT my friends, is why I'm still dragging my feet and buying time in a sunnier place away from the city.

To listen to the song, click here.

(Photo courtesy of Yahoo! Music. © EMI BLACKWOOD MUSIC INC. © MESSY NAESS PUBLISHING. Lyrics provided by Gracenote)

The 30-day Blog Challenge

Fluid thoughts, right on time.

I recently read this over at my friend (and former boss) Maya's blog, Walastik Holistic:

"Do something regularly over a period of 30 days
and you will create a habit."

The first thing that came to mind was, "Ah, that can apply to my blogging."

Initially I'd intended to wake up everyday at 5am and churn out an entry by daybreak. Unfortunately, I still lack the EQ to unglue myself from the comforter that early in the morning and I have no intention of making blog posting a stress-inducing experience. So for now I'll stick to the schedule I know best: writing at night.

If and when I am successful with coming up with 30 posts in daily succession, I'll keep adding more 30-day Challenges to my repertoire, e.g. "The 30-day Pilates Challenge," The 30-day Apple Cider With Every Meal Challenge," and so forth. And probably down the line be primed for the 5am thing. Eep!

I'm on Day Three so far. Please cheer for me everybody!

(The Bedol Eco-friendly Water-powered Clock. Photo courtesy of http://www.bedolwhatsnext.com.)