I Nixed An Offer To Write For The Collegian

Things You Didn't Know About Me

It is in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped. - Tony Robbins

I panicked when Prof Arce, giving me a prolonged, curious look, said, See me in my office after class. He had just handed back our exegesis of an intriguing poem, The Anchored Angel. 

Did he see through my pseudo-expertise?

You see, popular literary criticism identified fate and freewill as the theme of the poem, which was probably what most of the class went with in their analysis. But I got leaked info from a Comparative Lit senior that the poem was a metaphor for the sexual act.

I went with that thread in my paper.

Being naive on details of intimacy, I used a borrowed sex primer to juxtapose each love-making metaphor against the applicable clinical description. (Note: it was an eye-opening discovery for me.)

I was so scared that he'd grill me to authenticate my knowledge. I was surely going to be bust.

Thank goodness, Prof had only one thing to say when I went to see him. How would you like to write for the Collegian?

I must have murmured a few words, then excused myself and exited.

So, did I?

You would have guessed from the blog title. I didn't.

I know you're asking, Why???!!

Did I not dream to be a journalist? See my name in print? Get published?

Yes, to all these.

I loved writing. I'd always wanted to live in a crazy, fantasy world with unrealistic expectations. I could shake off everything as I wrote. My sorrows disappeared, my courage reborn.

But at the time, I was laser-focused on only one thing: to graduate with honors. 

I had to prioritize and make a choice.

As it was, my plate was already full - reading from two to three novels in two weeks, poring through exegetics, and writing analytical studies. 

I'd known fully well that graduating from a prestigious university could land me a good job, but to graduate with honors on top of that? I could have whatever job I wanted.

Did I regret it?

Not for one minute. 

That singular moment was but one step on my journey. I made the mark on no less than the UP Collegian adviser himself, a renowned Filipino writer. 

I just didn't raise the bar. I shot it into the stratosphere.

 

I Used Beer In My Hair

Things You Didn't Know About Me

I had to save part of my meager pocket money for my dog Snoopy's SPCA meds, and didn't have any to spare for Dippity Do hair gel or Blossom 'n Bloom hair spray.

So I used the tried-and-true substitute highly recommended by women experts at the time.

Beer.

It was free for me. I only had to get three-fourths of a cup from Little Boy's San Miguel, refill the bottle to its original level with water, and recap it.

You may wonder, how did that work??!!

Let me tell 'ya. Here's how to create that big and high pouffed-up beehive hair style.

(1) Plaster the entire head of hair with your pilfered stunning, pale golden lager. 

(2) Use large stick rollers to roll segments inwards working your way up towards your roots. Caution: it will be a sticky process.

(3) Secure with bobby pins.

(4) Proceed until all sections are rolled.

(5) Leave rollers in for about 15-30 minutes. Depending on your taste, either enjoy the enticingly pleasant aroma and mouth-watering, smooth, slight hoppy note of your head; or endure its distinct bitter hop character. 

(6) When you start feeling buzzed, it's time to remove the rollers.

(7) Lightly separate your curls (they will be ultra-stiff). Gently backcomb to form a distinctly cone-shaped, towering height of hair.

(8) Tousle some curls in front for bangs.

(9) Admire your aristocratic European look. You'd be erupting with awesome.

¡Salud!

P.S. Look the other way when Lil' Boy complains about his beer tasting stale and cardboard-like. 

Mhee Turning 79!

Age is an opportunity no less than youth itself, though in another dress, and as the evening twilight fades away, the sky is filled with stars, invisible by day. - Longfellow

It's here. March 21. I'm turning... (yikes!) 79 years old.

So, do I fret?

Or just smile and be proud, thinking that I'm not getting older, just becoming a classic.

Here's what I'd been up to, in days leading up to this moment.

Medallion necklace from Second Daughter, a source of comfort and assurance

Hair is an accessory. It's like jewelry for your head.

I got ready to burnish mine a dark sheen.

Life is not perfect, but my hair can be.

Aging is like fine cheese. You might be a bit moldy on the outside, but you're still delicious.

(I won't be offended if you say, "Dubious statement.")

I took time to smell the sweet, intoxicating fragrance of plumerias and rosal, and stood in awe of the colorful burst of white and red gumamelas and pink bougainvillea.

As has been my wont, I pilfered some for a gorgeous, free home arrangement.

Of course, a favorite pastime has been to search for and try new amigurumi patterns.

On a whim, I paused to talk to someone at the bus stop in front of Elk's.

As it turned out, she is a Hawaii resident doing paint sessions Tuesday mornings at Elks.

For my Dad's birthday and pre-celebration for me, I had a Barefoot Beach Cafe breakfast after a morning walk.

Hawaiian plate served in style, adorned with fresh orchid and pineapple wedge: burrito with pico sauce and strawberry/passion fruit smoothie

Today, I had planned on getting a birthday musubi snack from ABC when this came in the mail from my brothers.

A truly extraordinary treat of a candle-lit lechon!

My heart is full, no need for anything else.

Official Birthday Selfie: 'A' pendant necklace from First Daughter's gift card, maybe just in case I couldn't remember my name? Of course, I know. It's Adele, right?  (LOL)

Getting old has been like climbing a mountain. I've gotten a little out of breath, but the view is much better.

I had a cheery birthday. Time to say, Good night!

Calling it a day with Baby Seal and Big Blog, snuggle buddies from First Granddaughter and Second Daughter, respectively

I Wanted To Live In A Houseboat

Things About Me You Didn't Know

Heaven is a little closer in a home by the water. - Anonymous

Have you ever fancied living in a houseboat?

I have. Soon after I watched the 1958 romantic comedy, Houseboat.

It stars Cary Grant (Tom), a widower struggling to raise three children on his own after his wife's death. After meeting the charming and beautiful Cinzia (Sophia Loren) at a concert, he hires her as a live-in nanny in a rented houseboat.

Unbeknownst to Tom, Cinzia is actually a European socialite on the run from her domineering father and has absolutely no experience with cooking, cleaning or raising children.

She does, however, have an interest in Tom.

So there's the plot. Delightfully romantic, I will concede.

What does it have to do with this blog's premise? 

Nothing.

Except that I thought how fun it would be to literally live in a home that floats. 

To wake up to a waterfront view every day.

Wind in your hair. Sun on your face. 

Dark nights, bright stars.

Couldn't life be simpler? 

Just add water.

 

I Wanted To Be A Radio Announcer

Things You Didn't Know About Me 

Don't give up on your dreams. Keep sleeping. - Anonymous

In my pre-teen years, I had dreamed of being a radio announcer.

Just like Leila Benitez, a Filipino-born American radio host, presenter, journalist and broadcaster. 

She was my idol.

At noontime when she came on the legendary Student Canteen program, I'd tune in and be all ears.

Mark Twain once said that the secret of making progress is to get started.

Thus inspired, at fourteen years, I put in the effort to make my dream a reality. I dared to audition at the local Chronicle Broadcasting Network, the CBN in what would be the behemoth ABS-CBN.

So, what happened? I didn't make it. (Sigh)

But I remembered the adage, Follow your dream, so I went back to bed.

I Wanted To Go To Sarawak, Borneo

Things You Didn't Know About Me 

What one loves in childhood stays in the heart forever. - Mary Jo Putney

I wanted to go.

I knew it the minute Lil' Boy started posting photos of Sarawak, Borneo on the church bulletin board. They had been sent by a missionary who was going to be guest preacher the following Sunday.

At twelve years or so, I wasn't into sermons. Even if I was, I didn't understand much of what was said, but I've just now Googled some facts about the place.

Known as the Land of Hornbills, Sarawak is the largest state in Malaysia. The rhinoceros hornbill, easily recognizable by the large yellow casque on top of its beak, as well as feathers of black and white, is an icon and state emblem.  

50% of the total population is Christian. However, like most other ethnic groups, the Sarawakians still observe many of their traditional rituals and beliefs. And, yes, they speak English there.

What remain in my memory to this day, though, are images.

Of the mission team in a banca, paddling past a rainforest.

Internet pic only. Photos referred to in blog were vintage B/W.

And jungle trekking to join people in a longhouse, a stilted structure with a large number of rooms housing a whole community of families.

Of head trophies suspended and displayed to mark tribal victories.

I wanted to walk among men wearing bird clothes with beads and dragon motifs. I was eager to be in the company of women and children in hand-loomed cloths and tree bark fabrics adorned with feathers.

I dreamt of meeting with them where the sky touched the sea.

For them to wait for me where the world began.