Take The Oath

I believe that if anything is worth doing, it would have been done already.

I shall never move quickly, except to avoid more work or find excuses.

I will never rush into a job without a lifetime of consideration.

I shall meet all of my deadlines directly in proportion to the amount of bodily injury I could expect to receive from missing them.

I firmly believe that tomorrow holds the possibility for new technologies, astounding discoveries, and a reprieve from my obligations.

I truly believe that all deadlines are unreasonable regardless of the amount of time given.

I shall never forget that the probability of a miracle, though infinitely small, is not exactly zero.

If at first I don't succeed, there is always next year.

I shall always decide not to decide, unless of course I decide to change my mind.

I shall always begin, start, initiate, take the first step, and/or write the first word, when I get around to it.

I obey the law of inverse excuses which demands that the greater the task to be done, the more insignificant the work that must be done prior to beginning the greater task.

I know that the work cycle is not plan/start/finish, but is wait/plan/plan.

I will never put off until tomorrow, what I can forget about forever.

I will become a member of the ancient Order of Two-Headed Turtles (the Procrastinator's Society) if they ever get it organized.

Thou shall not bite the hand that feeds you

...or bakes you cake.

     My mum learned this the hard way this morning as she arranged plans for a father's day banquet for my dad and my grandpa. My dad loves ate Inday's moist chocolate cake and asked my mum to order one for this sunday's banquet. She held the phone in her hand and just as she was about to make the call it dawned on her. The last time she talked to ate Inday, they were hurling expletives at each other via my mum's trusty PDA phone. The argument was about a cake that was not delivered on the agreed time. My mum's most beloved sister-in-law (insert sarcasm here) had come to visit and demanded (very sweetly, of course) that her moist cassava cake be warm and fresh and at the door by nine in the morning. And as most tragedies begin, this arrangement was not honored by the baker. 

   Now my mum has to make that infernal call. She asks me what to do.

Mum: I have to call Inday.

Me: Yep.

Mum: I f I call her, she probably won't accept my order or if she will, she'll add a tablespoon of cyanide into the batter.

Me: Yep.

Mum: I have a brilliant idea, You call her and order the cake. Tell her to have it delivered at your lola's.

Me: or I could just call her and have her deliver the cake here.

Mum: But she would know it's me.

Me: No, she won't. I'll tell her you moved. I'll deny you. I'll pretend you never existed.

Mum: That might just work. Me move? Where?

Me: Iraq.  I'll tell her you've decided to join the peace corps.

Mum: (laughs) she would like that.

    You may say the best solution is to apologize to Inday or look for another baker. But you don't know my mum, she will never apologize even if her life depended on it, and once she sets out to go after something she wants, she usually gets it.

    On a side note, I've decided to go back to school and pursue a masteral degree in nursing. Well, I need to do something with so much time on my hands. Might as well go back to school. I'm excited to begin my classes. It all feels so familiar. And yet, I dread the thought of waking up early in the weekends. There will be hell yet again, and this time I'll have myself to blame.

    Meanwhile, isn't that blueberry cheesecake divine? It's screaming my name. I might have a piece later at True Brew's after I finish the whole enrollment procedure.

This Boy

Dear Leloy,

You probably don't remember me but we met two years ago during the 16th Mindanao Parliamentary Debate Championship. You were the chief adjudicator and I was a debater. I can still remember the moment I met you, my team mates and I were having breakfast at Xavier's cafeteria and you were standing by my table sipping a cup of fresh warm coffee. You were wearing a grey KISS shirt and a pair of black converse chucks. Anyone would easily mistake you for a student, but I knew you who you were. The great Leloy of ADS. I ate my breakfast in silence, watching you beneath my lashes. Sometimes our eyes would meet across the table and I'd look away in embarrassment which for some strange reason would make you smile and stare more intently. This pendulum of awkward staring and looking away continued for a few more minutes. Then I looked up and you had walked away. The first round went my smoothly. Me and my partner managed to grab the highest scores. I was a bundle of electric nerves. I knew what this meant. On the second round, we would be matched with other top ranking teams. And we were. The motion was about Basketball. We were doomed. A ray of hope struggled to surface among the heavy gloom. Then you walked in, with that Bruce Wayne swagger of yours and you sat across us motioning for the match to start. I was the prime minister. I had to muster every centimeter of strength to look at you straight without warm blood flushing my cheeks. I looked at my paper blots of sweat stained it's edges, my hands were coldly perspiring. What transpires next would be the most difficult seven minutes of my entire life. I had to talk about basketball and imported players. Who the fuck cares about these trivial things? I surely don't and my team mate could not, for the life of him, provide anything remotely intelligent in our case. You stared at me blankly as I struggled to string coherent words together. It wasn't the same. That twinkle in your eye was lost. I might as well be a piece of wooden furniture. My seven minute hell was up and I slumped back in my chair certain of defeat. 

You said my arguments were very strong and profound. I appreciated your effort to be polite, everything I had said was utter gibberish. But my arguments did not fit the spirit of the motion. Ah, now there's the catch. You ranked us on the bottom of the top four teams. Defeat really doesn't matter at all anymore when it is expected. The tournament passed by in a haze with my head in the clouds. Every picture had your face, every person had your eyes, you were everywhere. I was engulfed in the violent delight of catching your gaze. Then sunday came and swiftly took you away. I was on my way home and all I could think of was you, that arrogant smirk, those beautiful eyes, that goofy smile. 

It's been two years and here you are again lingering in my mind. You have become this insatiable impossible dream. I love you like there's no tomorrow. It's irrational, it's mundane, it's as trivial as debating about basketball and imported players. But I cannot help myself, you are this boy I lost and never really had in the first place. She has you and she's perfect so like some cosmic predetermination, you belong together. She's cute and clever and skinny and never seems to sweat. You will make incredibly smart globally renowned debater children. I'm sure she's amazing but I love you. I love you, no questions asked. Every bit of you and all of you. No more no less, everything you have and everything you are. I will love you even when you have lost all your hair, the sharpness of your mind, the dexterity of your metacarpals and the fading of your eyesight. I will love you through it all. So pick me, choose me, love me. Look my way again and this time, stay by my table long enough for me to say something incredibly stupid. 

I'm just this girl pining for an impossibly perfect boy. I like to think I'm clever sometimes, I have sweat glands and our children will probably do moderately well in school but if they take after you, they're lucky. I still wish you were mine. I'm sure she's great but I will blow your mind in a million ways. I'll listen to you when you're complaining about the state of our political and economic affairs, I'll make you some chicken soup and warm lemon tea whenever you are feverish and your nasal passages become clogged, I'll be nice to your mum even when she's making snide remarks about the state of our household, I'll respect your bro code of honor and keep your friends' secrets, I'll rub my feet against yours when your toes become cold, I'll study the recipes of your favorite dishes by heart, I'll be your biggest groupie, and I'll always be pretty for you. We'll stay in bed on a rainy day and listen to Beatles songs, we'll get through a bad day together with our wits intact, and we'll enjoy everything that life has to offer, even when we are old and gray. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. And maybe, just maybe, we'll meet again, if I'm lucky. 

My friends tell me (who worship you, by the way) that you are currently in Australia finishing your doctorate degree. I love you and I wish you all the best. 

Love,

Issey

Bumping Bruno

Yes, Isla Fisher is doing that. 

The Usual and Unusual Suspects

Leading Lady

I love love love Claire Danes' look at the CFDA Fashion Awards! The dress is perfect for her slender frame. The fit is impeccable, hugging her curves and showing a modest hint of skin. This is how a cut out dress is properly done. It's a wonderful dress, I love its old hollywood vintagey feel. I am absolutely in love with this dress. Claire Danes is glowing. The hair, the make up, the minimalist accessories, everything is lovely. I don't know who the dress is by. But I will definitely keep you posted. 

Okay, I just found out from Style.com, the dress is by Narciso Rodriguez and the clutch is by Tod's.   

All Rocked Out

Miss Agyness Deyn is rocking the pale metallic dress. I love how she pairs it up with the leather jacket and the black leather boots. It toned down the fairy like feel of the ultra feminine dress. Rock chic. 

Greek Sleek

Anja Rubik is svelte in her Kaufman Franco dress. I like how the immaculate white of the dress contrasts with her golden tan. So elegant.

Funny girl

Mamie Gummer is lovely in her Peter Som dress. Photographed here with the designer. The outfit is well put together, although I would get rid of the jacket. She already has a lot going on with the chunky bangles. The make up and the slightly disheveled hair is so pretty on her. 

Hot Mama!

Heidi is sexy and sultry in this grey steel metallic dress by Michael Kors. 

Urbanista Chic

Eugenia Gonzalez in Juan Carlos Ubando. I like this grungey chic look. The strappy sandals are gorgeous. On the whole, she looks effortless. I like the sexy wild hair. But I would prefer this look on a night out in the town or a date with that cute british boy. Aaaah, those british boys sure are lovely.

Enchanted

Kerry Washington in Doo.Ri. Kerry is beautiful in this enchanting metallic dress. The steel hue of the glittery dress looks great in contrast to her olive skin. The romantic hair complements the look. Steel grey metal is such a dominant color in this year's CFDA Awards.

Red Hot Love

Behati Prinsloo in a Yigal Azrouel assymetric dress. I love this look, The asymetrical cut and one sided puff sleeve adds just the right amount of quirk. I love the pop red color.

A Day in The Life

By

Roz Chast

Birds and The Roz

I putter. 

I nurse old grudges. 

I fold origami while nursing old grudges. 

I think about the past. 

I wonder if there's any grudges I should start.

-Roz Chast