super september: Life as a Designer...and a potential for a shift in careers

FASHION SHOW
Well, these hands have been terribly abused lately:
Lala Flores' words to me during our TVC shoot last summer is ringing in my ears: "decided to shift careers...."
She was a supermodel-turned-makeup artist.
I stayed up all night, finishing the outfits for two of our models during the dorm fashion show. For Leslie's outfit, I used soda can pull tabs which Gly and I wove together to form a corset-ish top. Then I embellished it with beads, strung in wire to form vines. The skirt has a cloth base, then a wire skirt (with help from my lovely angels Chona, Nigga, Gly, and Chena) made of beads locked in twisted wire.

I felt proud, seeing Leslie and JC wearing my creations. Leslie was beautiful and radiant. I've been teasing them both during the whole "preparation period", telling them that they might turn it into a real case of budding love, after all. JC was a good sport, and he carried the whole outfit well, even the wire and bead headdress which he later took off and placed on Leslie's hair. They even complied when I told them to hold hands during the actual ramp per pair.

JC's staff and Leslie's outfit worked such that when set side by side, formed a heart. it was the hardest to make, but I'm glad it worked. I made the design of the staff and the "cape", and Gly, our corridor representative finished making it. Gly was wonderfully helpful and efficient!

:

I ended up not only doing their outfits, makeup, and hair, but also the other models' makeup as well. But it was ok. Boots, my other friend was a perfect assistant! JC's outfit was mostly "handcrafted" by Boots. My friend Mich did most of the other designs Death(modeled by Chona and Ralph) War ( Pau and Pweng), and Separation (Chena and TJ). Beadstuff (my line of accessories) were worn by Pwend, Chena, and Leslie. I'm glad we were able to document them. i might put them in the brochure I'm coming up with.

My hands were badly bruised. They bled, too. I didn't feel the pain. It felt beautiful to see my creations. I slept and slept afterwards.

etcetera:

THE BA ORG PRESENTATION
I was one of CE performers for the BA org pres.We had to little time to prepare. When the other organizations' performers arrived, they were in full gear: outfits, makeup and all. I ended up doing our performers' makeup.

VOICE OUT
A week or two after that, I was at Cello's Katipunan, rushing orders for swarovski earrings when I was summoned to our event quite early. There was no makeup artist. I ended up doing the hair and makeup of contestants. Well, I got burned by the curling iron but I don't mind too much because that particular contestant won as champion. :)

"Wake me up when September ends...." (Green Day)

Musings at Katipunan Avenue, October 12, 2005

My day starts past 12 in the afternoon. The room is dark and devoid of any activity or sound, save for my breathing. I remember fighting of sleep early that night because of Neil Gaiman. (I can’t believe my friend Mich got to meet him during his book-signing in Manila!). I was…CAPTIVATED by his writing. I’m still not over gushing about how good Good Omens (written with Terry Pratchett) was—considering the book is about the apocalypse. I’m currently reading “Smoke and Mirrors”, a collection of Neil Gaiman’s short stories. Mich, my eternal “library” lent it to me. Next in Line is Ayn Rand’s “The Virtue of Selfishness”. I’m burying myself in books—those non-academic/non-I-have-to-study-for-my-exam-so-please-don’t-allow-me-to-sleep books— again. I love the semestral break. It leaves me room for getting more education. I love paradoxes.

Somehow, during the day, I started thinking about my father. Maybe it was that dream the other night. Maybe it’s because my friend Chona lost her dad to cancer just recently. Maybe it’s because I met up with one of my good friends again after months of not seeing each other (she started working) Our conversation ended in her tearful account of how worse her dad is getting at treating them.

He is terribly hard to deal with when he’s drunk. He rarely speaks when he’s sober, but when he’s had something to drink, he would go on an angry tirade and would spew out insults or insipid jokes—things they really do not deserve. She told me he has no friends. I’ve come to a conclusion that he’s terribly insecure and he takes out his insecurities on his children. I feel so bad that he’s treating them that way, considering how wonderful and responsible my friend and her siblings are. Looking at it the other way, I am thankful that my friend turned out the way she is despite her problem about her father. She is sweet, smart, rational, kind, and responsible. We, too, are what you’d call kindred spirits. She loves words, books and rainshowers as much as I do. (We just spent this afternoon solving a crossword puzzle together! ) Sadly, she has reached the point wherein she claims she couldn’t care less even if he dropped dead.

It made me miss my own father. He’s such a good man: he loves us, his children; he has never hurt us physically or emotionally. We aren’t rich, but he provided us with our needs. He encouraged us to get all the education we needed without confining us to classrooms and strict study schedules. He plays a good game of scrabble. (When he found out from my sister that I lost a lunchtime scrabble match to one of our bosses during my internship, he sent me a message that said “Ga, don’t forget: Never outshine thy master.) My father is far from being difficult. He doesn’t have any vices. The closest to that are probably chess and his chess books. He doesn’t talk too much, but when he does, his words are full of wisdom. My “bonding times” with my father can be compared to an I.Q. test—he does that all the time. He’d start bombarding me with questions (maybe this is where I got that penchant for trivia, now that I think about it) and would beam when I answer them correctly. Most of the time, it’s a series of problem-solving or mind games. When I do not know the answer, he’d explain it to me with such eagerness. (By the way, my father is a college math professor.) There was a time when I was ranting about something while he and my mother listened. When I was finished, I said, “Well, what do YOU think?” His reply both came as a shock and a surprise. When translated, it goes, “It’s up to you. You’re smart enough.” And that was all that I needed to hear to get things figured out. In two weeks, I’ll be seeing him again, and maybe I will tell him about today’s musings.

It’s past midnight. After submitting to a craving for caramel sundae at McDonald’s (take out), I left Starbucks and took a cab home. The taxi driver wasn’t up to some small talk, which was all the better for me as I was left to my requisite taxi cab musings. I noticed the absence of taxi cab music, and how different the cab ride was without it. I’m at the dorm now, and I’m making an inventory of all my apparel (I hope this works!) after noticing that I can’t find a lot of my favorite ones anymore. (I make a mental note to inform Ate Marge, our laundry servicewoman). It’s the old pre-sem-ender I-can’t-believe-I-have-accumulated-so-many-things slash How-will-I-pack-all-of-these-things panic that possesses every dormer. (Mental note: You have yet to book a flight, Lorie!”)

My books are still on the shelves. My clothes are strewn all over my bed for folding and packing (and inventorying, as planned). My brain is fully awake and is in the mood for more thinking. The insomniac that I am says good bye as more brain cells die tonight. I hear my friend in her room across the hall ranting to another friend of ours over the phone. She has had a bad day. I went there earlier to check on them (my best friend is her roommate), but opted to stay in my room instead. It’s 3 a.m. and I am left to musings.

My Life's Crusade

I believe that there is someone out there God has prepared for each of us, His children, and that person is the perfect one for us. Long before a person is born, God has already planned it all.That's how great He is!

But then most of the time, people push for what they want--for what makes them happy, even temporarily.
I've seen too many people settle for lower than they are worthy of. They lower their standards for something below par--hoping at the same time that they will be, and will remain, happy. It saddens me.

But I have seen, too, those who waited...and God's plan was the best that has ever happened in their lives!They are wonderfully happy now, happy with their one true love...and happy that they made that choice.

I have done my share of mistakes, too, and that wasn't even long ago. I bargained with Him. I almost settled for less, too. It didn't take me that much time to realize that it was futile,and that it wasn't what He we wanted for me. That's how much He loves me, even if I am unworthy.That's the beauty of His Grace.

I choose not to join the common horde.That is my personal crusade. God's and mine.

Love isn't what they teach you in the movies or what you read in books. In the end, Love is that thing that comes in God's time, not yours. He will let you have your way, but he'll always want the best for you.

We do not "think" that we love someone. it's more than that. LOVE IS A CHOICE, that's why waiting is important. Waiting for HIS PERFECT TIME.


This was originally a letter I wrote to a friend.-Lorie

...and finally, closure.

What do you do when the secret you thought you would take with you to the grave is suddenly revealed to that one person you have kept it from for six painful years? You’ll never know what things you’re capable of doing until you find out your answer to this question. When you do, write your song, too.

Sikreto

Naaalala ko pa
Noon ay lagi kang kasama
Di naman sinasadya
Na pagtingin sayo’y mag-iiba

Natataranta, natatakot
Na ako’y mahuli mo.
Hindi handang ipaalam
Ang nilalaman ng puso ko.

*Wala kang kamalay-malay na
Ako’y nalilito,
Sa pagdaan ng mga araw,
Ako’y unti-unting nahuhulog sa iyo.

Ako nga ang lagi mong kasama
Ngunit ang lahat ng kwento mo
ay tungkol sa kanya
Nasasaktan ako ng hindi sinasadya.

At kapag ikaw naman ay wala sa tabi ko,
Inggit ko’y pilit na itinatago
Siya na naman ang kakuwentuhan mo
Siya ang iyong mahal, at hindi ako

*Wala kang kamalay-malay na
Ako’y nalilito,
Sa pagdaan ng mga araw,
Ako’y unti-unting nahuhulog sa iyo.

Maraming taon na ang lumipas,
Alaala ng kahapon ay kumupas
At tayo na’y nagkaganito
Tulad mo, ako rin ay nagbago.

At sa di inaasahang pagkakataon,
Nalaman mo na minahal kita noon.
Alam mo na ngayon
Ang sikretong iningatan ng panahon.

*Wala kang kamalay-malay noon
Na ako ay nalilito,
Sa pagdaan ng mga araw,
Damdamin ko’y nahulog na sa iyo.

O kay tagal-tagal
Ang pagdurusa sa loob
Habang sa labas ay nakangiti
Tama na ang pagkukunwari

Hindi na muling hahayaan
Na puso ko’y iyong saktan
Matagal nang tinalikuran
Ang kalokohang ang pangalan ay ikaw.

IN MY SILENCE

Many things may have changed now. I know for a fact that I have changed—from the grade school loner who spent recess time sitting by herself, singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” to herself while sketching on the back pages of her notebook, oblivious to the majority of the class shrieking their lungs out while playing patintero in the streets, to the inexplicably animated hyperactive college girl—and yet, I’ve always remained as that girl who thought too much. Thinking, along with the fondness for collecting trivia (I once answered the question ‘What does J&B stand for?’ in split-second), seems to be an activity I never get tired of. I’ve been unknowingly asking myself too many how’s what’s, why’s, and what if’s to the point of self-torture.Sometimes I laugh out loud at a crazy thought, only to realize a bit too late that I have laughed to myself OUT LOUD in a PUBLIC UTILITY VEHICLE. By then, eleven faces with the “what’s-wrong-with-this-girl” look plastered on them stare at me incredulously.Sometimes, the answer to THAT QUESTION is “Nothing.” I seem to have this unbelievable capacity of zapping into the farthest corners of the universe in the midst of a conversation. One moment I’m with you, the next I’d be…gone. No wonder there’s someone I know whose way of greeting me is, “Come back to earth!” Spacing out and Thinking may be two different things, but sometimes they pretty much mean the same…so next time, when I answer you with “I am not thinking of anything, really, I was just spacing out”... Don't believe me.

BAHAGHARI

I wrote this song for my sister who, by the way, was shocked to see me write in Filipino. I’ll wait for my brothers to put a tune to it. Might be useful on our next jam sessions,haha.

Anyhow, I’ve always been fascinated with rainbows. I remember the story of the first rainbow—how God promised never again to destroy the earth by flood. That’s what rainbows have always signified for me: a promise. In every heavy rain in my life—be it a problem or a difficult situation— the promise of the rainbow at the end of it is enough to get me by.

BAHAGHARI

Minsa'y naitatanong sa sarili
Kung totoo ba ang pag-ibig
Kung and pagtibok ng puso'y
Hindi lamang katha ng isip.

Minsa'y bumabalik pa
Ang magagandang alaala
Ngunit karamiha'y mapapait
Marami ay masasakit.

At kayo'y aking titingnan
Kayo ay panonoorin
Na parang tumitingala
Sa langit
Sa pagtila ng ulan

Minsa'y nabubulag na
Minsa'y nakakalimot na
Sa kagandahan at kulay
Hangga't nasulyapan ko siyang
nakatingin
Sa iyong mga mata.

Siya'y iyong niyakap
At pareho tayong nakangiti
Habang tayo'y papalayo
Siya pa ri'y nakatingin.

Bakit sadyang ganito?
Buhay ko'y itim at puti
Habang ang sa inyo'y
Binabalot ng kulay
Na parang bahaghari

Bumubuhos na naman ang langit
At wala na namang katabi
Kayo'y pinapanood
Habang nangangarap ng gising