Archive for the ‘Grinching’ Category


Wednesday, 3 June 09

Grrrrrr… I’m a little bit upset. Just saw the hottest shoes on the market: YSL’s Spring 2009 Heels Collection. Here’s a sample:

YSL Lattice Work Heels

And another one:

YSL Spring 2009 Heels

And the boots:

YSL Cage Boots

The are great, even fabulous, BUT THEY REMIND ME OF MY SCULPTURES!!!! Look at this:

Vittorio Stilletos

And this:

Barba High Heels

And this cutie (I will freak out if I see a replica of this one!):

Ballet flats

I should have made real ones! Grrrrrrr…. Now I can’t even make real ones because people will think I copied their designs! Snaaaarrrrl… No wonder my friend Kat was insistent that I looked it up! Grrrrrr…
I’m really upset now.

Sigh…. You can check out my collection here or here. Hmmp!

Dang, I’m getting a headache!


Unintelligible Notes from the Underground

Wednesday, 30 January 08

I’ve been suffering from nagging indigestion lately. And I’m not talking about the kind you get from eating everything you see on the buffet table, the sort of thing you can get rid of by munching on Tums all day long. It’s of the venomous variety, the type that perches on the shoulder of your consciousness, the one that nips and gnaws at you in the dying hours of the night and leaves you frayed at the edges and barren as the sun rises. It’s a treacherous one—the kind when left alone could swallow you up whole and you’d find yourself in a vat full of soul-diluting acid.

I’d imagine myself ultimately succumbing to one of these wretched things and part of me would disappear for good and I wouldn’t be me anymore. I’d be forced to do an autopsy on the unfortunate victim and find out that it had died of complications induced by the malignant spirit dyspepsia, exacerbated by neglect and fear and apathy. Its dismal tombstone would probably read: Expired young and full of promise, exhausted from the weight of possibilities.

So I am not leaving it alone. Perhaps it’s not too late to fish out that failing part of my heart from the sweltering vat. I envision a quick trip to the doctor and he would hand me a recipe for a tonic: mix a chunk of willingness to go naked again without fear of being ostracized and ridiculed with a dash of courage to go underground, to dig deeper, then add a pinch of chutzpah to push through in the midst of the uproar of one’s anxiety and panic and let it all simmer in passion and folly.

[My translation:

  • Turn off the TV or DVD player and other mind-numbing devices.
  • Manage your time and stay away from Facebook (!)
  • Write again (Do you even remember how you sound? Will you recognize yourself when you stumble upon your own words?); do not be afraid to commit spelling crimes and of meeting dangling participles.
  • Be ruthless and destroy in order to create. Not everything good is pretty.
  • Create for yourself and not think of what would sell and look great on a pedestal in a gallery or shop.
  • Believe.
  • Listen. Your intuition is always right.
  • Hope even though you don’t know what to hope for.
  • Know that you will always find your way home.
  • And, taking a page from Elphaba’s book, defy gravity (even if there’s a big possibility that you’d end up being lynched by a frenzied mob!)]

My imaginary doctor would probably advice me to consume this tonic regularly since this type of dyspepsia can never be completely eradicated once a person has been ravaged by it. The key is to manage the symptoms. The danger of it recurring would always be there and that, if left unchecked, it would pounce on you again and you’d be exposed to fits of hysterical midnight weeping. But having the potion would give my heart a reprieve from necrosis. In the meantime, I could declare the afflicted part of my soul resuscitated and contentedly living with the complications.

A tad early

Monday, 22 October 07

Christmas comes really early in the Philippines—our neighbors have already added “Jingle Bell Rock” to their weekly karaoke repertoire, I’ve received invitations for dinners and get-togethers, and there are countdowns to December 25th on TV. Can’t they wait till after Halloween? This just means one thing for me, really—my transformation into the Grinch will also start pronto. Sigh.

I’m going to make an effort, though, not to turn into a live, little bitter melon this year. I’m starting my own “Christmas Cheer” project (I need a better name for it, though!) and try to find ways to make myself look forward to and enjoy (or at least tolerate) C-Day. How about drawing up a Christmas list for myself and my friends? A little materialism always makes the heart beat faster. ;) On top of my lust list: sushi pillows. I know… lame. Hey, I’m a silly little girl and this kind of non-sense makes me flash my pearly whites at people (scary, scary). Tell me you don’t find these cute:

Neil with his Sushi Pillows

Even Neil likes them. How about this:

Ebi Nigiri

The only problem I’d have with having these around would be that I’d be hungry all the time. But then, I’m always hungry anyway so it’s okay. :)