My latest adventure was doing the groceries in a different supermarket. And my next one will most likely be an overnight trip to Enchanted Kingdom with James for his birthday.

If you found the last statement funny, well good for you.

I really haven't been having that many real-life adventures lately. It's been a quiet, domestic-corporate drumbeat for me -- home,work,work, home, sew a tiny bit, work, home,anime,home, work.

Despite what others might call evidence, I refuse to believe my life is boring.

Work brings its own gripes from time to time -- the watchful eyes, the expectations, hanging like the Sword of Damocles over your head. Let it hang for all I care. I enjoy talking to the people I teach, telling them to mind their p's and q's, and watching them learn and discover things for themselves bit by bit -- or not. All in a day's work. I like watching the hours flow by in the hubbub of lesson chatter and keyboards.

Home is my cave. I surround myself with my creature comforts to remind me that I am still human and I have the ability to create to make me happy. My sewing machine, the big toolbox of odds and ends, the pattern drafts plastered on the wall are now synonymous to indie music, graffiti, tattoos, I Love You the way The Cure would sing it.

I can make skirts.
I can make a dress.
I've learned how to draft a pattern using measurements.
I can make a corset, and damn, I will wear it.
I can recycle old things, and I prefer experimenting with my own things first.

Oh, and I can knit.

I have orders lined up, waiting for me, and dammit, I gotta find time for all of them! I am eternally grateful for good friends who have been so supportive every step of the way -- and for bearing with the occasional insanity.

My mother asked me to make her a dress as my birthday gift to her, and I gladly said yes. White crisp cotton in a cherry print, ruched and gartered all 'round the torso, something that falls to her knees, ties at the shoulders. I want her to feel like Doris Day. she will turn a few years shy of 50, but I know her better. Those years can't fool me.

eclair has commissioned me to make her a couple of skirts and knitted scarves. These make me happy on so many levels.

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I've been plurking and tumbling more often now, really. The craft blog is really there for crafting documentation... I've been doing a poor job of it, considering that I've been creating faster than I can write about it. ( Read more... )

This is probably the only place where I will be able to post this without creeping the beejeezus out of most people.

Last night, I first watched Coraline, then I Stumbledupon a web page that had a healthy mish-mash of funny ads, funky bags and kitchen items, CG art, and this video.

Don't let the title short-change you. It's actually quite good.

A voodoo doll, one among many, manages to escape from the meat hook he was hung on. He must use his wits and courage to save his friends from a grisly fate. But how?

This morning was a welcome surprise, and a most welcome break from the sultry, humid heat of summer. It's a very rainy day today, and I honestly love it.

On the way to work, I spotted a Piaggio scooter -- made out to mini-pick-up truck. ^__^* It was pretty amazing, really. I think the compartment at the back could have held three to four giant tuna fish, or two very woolly sheep comfortably. I was laughing and smiling to myself on the jeep, and the other passengers wondered what the hell was so special about the Piaggio. Oh well.

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James and I have never been better, and I am so thankful and I love my life right now. it's a quiet thrill deep down inside me when I see our plans are slowly growing piece by tiny piece. something big and grand is waiting to happen, and can't wait for all that beauty to explode!

I wish you, dear reader, beauty and love in your life too. Tell me what make Life beautiful for you today.

This past Easter Monday, Mary and I hied off to Aduana, the Pier area in Manila to help me buy my very own first sewing machine. (I do say "my very own first" because this was the first sewing machine I bought with my own well-earned money. It's a very good feeling, it is. ^_^*)

We started our trip from Cubao, and drove, drove, drove past Quiapo, past Intramuros, even past the Manila Hotel. Upon arrival, I was thrilled to find the shops were so close to the newspaper presses near the harbor. It brought back fond memories of my father and I driving through those gates, sharing a small bottle of Coke, and spending some quality time talking about creativity with Dong Ampil De Los Reyes for my thesis. He's a writer with a mind, body, and soul to be reckoned with, and I do say he is the Kurt Vonnegut of our shores. (no, Sir Dong, I'm not taking that back. :D)

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.... specifically for housing.

There'd been so many things happening in my life right now, I think I'd forgotten how to write about them. Hah!

What's been happening, so far:

1) I've just delivered my first commission job. Mik, dear officemate of mine, gave me her two pairs of jeans,  one to hem, and another to reconstruct into a skirt. Hemming denim is simple enough. Working with stretchy rayon-cotton fabrics, however, was an entirely different matter.

To my knowledge, you stick to cotton when you're a beginner, and when you're better, you then can start working on stretchy or silky fabrics -- like, well, silk, satin, brocade, jersey, you name it. And you'd need an edger for stretchy stuff, to make sure the hems don't fray. (What does an edger stitch look like? check the underside of your t-shirt. You see that loopy, complicated-looking stitching on the hem? That's edger work.)

Well, I was given a job, and she trusted me to do something about her garments, with the tools I had at the moment. Only one way to find out if I'm screwed for good.

A couple of weeks after, I managed to finish both jobs, and had Mik fit them, see if they needed adjustments, and al the time I was thinking, "oh god, what if what if what if..."

And she said they were good. 


She told me after what was important to her was that she could use them once more, and as long as she's happy, that's all that matters to me.

2) I'd like to buy a new sewing machine, please. If I'm really to start getting serious about sewing, and really start taking commissions, I'd want a sewing machine that is efficient, durable, and has all the features I need. If it comes with a set of useful feet, the better. I love my present sewing machine and it has indeed served me faithfully, but sometimes its quirks have me wasting more time instead of getting the job done sooner. (sigh) the sad thing is, the nearest (and only) sewing machine repair shop in our vicinity has closed shop. I blame the recession for this, and I can't help but feel bad for the shop owner. He's such a sweet old gent.

On the other hand, the machine has become my own Little Engine That Could. I mean, think of it: It's been abandoned, tossed around, its tension control glued shut and immobile and useless, its machinery coming apart, and still it sews for me.

yes, there's more.

I still have quite a list of commissions and promises to fulfill -- an experimental blouse, peasant skirts, poofy lolita skirts, and dresses -- and I do feel amazed and elated and plain bowled over by all this. So many things to make, and so little time! I am much, much thankful I still have a day job to support this drive of mine to create. (Tip: as an artist, it pays to keep your day job, really. The Recession needs your art to keep minds moving and growing, but it also needs you to stay ALIVE. and HEALTHY.)

What does James have to say about all this? He's been very supportive in his own way, and does his best to reel me in (and hold me back) when I run the risk of wearing myself thin with work as I'm wont to do. The man does his best to keep me happy and sane, and I love him for that.

3) Work? Oh right, work. The lessons have been steadily piling up, and I think I've settled in quite nicely. Surprise, surprise, teaching's a little bit of theater, after all. Let this pale, anemic, rubenesque girl thrill you with word physics and algorithms, and a little bit of vocabulary art. I am your glottal showgirl, 30 minutes private show.

 

Last Night's Dream:

It was an indoor zoo. It was an enclosed space, quite large, made to imitate aztec ruins overgrown with vines and roots. The lighting was a dark orange hue.
A few things I found odd, but was too immersed in the novelty to want to question them:

• Centralized airconditioning. Although it was a zoo within an enclosed space, the pens exposed to the open air, the management still decided on centralized airconditioning. 
• I also found it odd that the zoo smelled of just that -- centralized airconditioning. Freon. No animal poo or pee, no scent of mating season, no exposed food, no nothing. It was very eerie indeed. add to that -- the floor was clean, save fopr the occassional strewn hay/ talahib for effect.
  
• I had this feeling that I didn't come alone to this place, but I hadn't known then that James took me here. Or that he brought James Asis, his buddy, along.
  
• the animal enclosures were anything but. They looked more like sheep pens -- low hedges made of castaway tree branches, and open. Yep. for everyone. Even the carnivores. 
• The animals weren't very active, but they all oddly had very distinct but unusal personalities -- a surly Mandril who flipped you the bird if you stared at it for very long. Very bored clown fish, and goldfish bored to death -- literally. Very curious quails. a sea hawk siezed with paranoia every 5 minutes. come to think of it, it very much began to seem like apsychiatric ward for the poor critters, put on show in hopes of making an extra buck
  

So there.

I walked in further down a corridor of exhibits, made curious by a sign that said "Crocodile This Way." Of course, I was stupid enough to rest easy in the fact that the enclosures must be open because the animlas must be that tame. Or at least strange enough to not recognize their instincts.) All I saw at first was what seemed to be this charred, heavy-looking log that looked vaguely crocodilian. all I needed to do was look around to make sure the Gorilla a few enclosures away wasn't aiming poop at me -- I looked back, and saw the same black-burned log with two evil-looking yellow eyes and a hungry, deliberately malicious grin, coming at me at alarming speed.

I snatched a white tarpaulin sheet out of nowhere in an attempt to put something between me and the reptile. It taunted, walking towardme, forcing me to walk backward, and he sang at me.

He sang this very strange tune, limerick-esque, about the vicious delight of being a crocodile.
all I could remember was a verse:

This Bennet's hypselodoris reminds me of the colorful Holga:


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I yesterday watched the trailer for the movie The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Brad Pitt lay in the soft lighting of the bed, curled up to his woman. I thought of you, and shuddered.

Mas gwapo ka pa kay Brad Pitt.

Life always has this interesting way of sending so many events in your direction like little explosions in so small a period of time. When you finally grab a hold of yourself, and finally decide to sit down and write about these, Life goes, "oh, glad to see you enjoyed them, here, have some more, on the house." 

Outside, fireworks whizz and bang and boom for all their money's worth, and cars and sirens blare themselves hoarse in defiance to the wet weather. People eat, drink, kiss. Making merry, plans, resolutions, and perhaps for the lucky few, love.

The beer is setting in. Perhaps it was a bad decision to go Strong Ice. Meh. Only thing on the fridge anyway, and I'm not to sure about popping open the rhum or the gin. It's nice and warm now in my belly, but it's not enough to keep me from thinking I should be all warm and alcohol fuzzed, snuggled asleep in your arms.

It's been years, and you still give me the love-shivers.


You've been quite perplexing, baby. It's been a very weird time with you, and really, sometimes you can get very infuriating. You love pulling fast ones on me, and I will still have some trouble getting over those. (Well, I probably will eventually, but still!) You've too often sent me running for my time, and money, and health, and have made me extract that last, last burst of energy I never knew existed -- both to finish the job, and maybe, just hopefully, have enough left over so I can wring the living daylights out of you. Then, you pull another fast one, and sweep me off my feet with very random and exhilarating moments. Creative conquests, family and friends, and pat on the back or a kiss on the forehead for a job exhaustingly yet well done -- It's enough to drive a girl crazy, but I gotta admit, you make a woman out of me.

You've been as wierd as I am, dear 2008, and for that I am thankful for you, and yeah, I think I do like you.

You've been tough on me in more ways than I care to count, but you've also brought me so much joy. You've taught me the value of learning, and what it is to eke out as much of it as I can because the world does turn and will not wait for me. You've shown me the value of intense work and intense play, and how too much or too little of each other can be very bad for you. You make me redefine the words Family and Friends in my vocabulary over and over again, and thus, you make me practice what I teach.

You reduce me to terrible metaphors and half-turned phrases, and all I can do is be very, very sincere.

I now know that Love sounds like peaceful snoring beside you on a cold, wet evening, and that makes me happy.

You've given me cold, hard bones, 2008, and all I can think off right now is how amazing it's all been giving them flesh and blood, giving it a face, giving them bones a voice that sings the truth.

You are astonishing, 2008. And I love you.

Notice the expression of unbridled glee.

Who would have known
That a boy like him
Would have entered me lightly
Restoring my blisses

Who would have known
That a boy like him
After sharing my core
Would stay going nowhere

Who would have known
A beauty this immense
Who would have known
A saintly trance
Who would have known
Miraculous breath
To inhale a beard
Loaded with courage

Who would have known
That a boy like him
Possessed of magical
Sensitivity
Would approach a girl like me
Who caresses cradles his head
In a bosom

He slides inside
Half awake, half asleep
We faint back
Into sleephood
When I wake up
The second time
In his arms
Gorgeousness
He's still inside me

Who would have known
Who ahhh
Who would have known

A train of pearls
Cabin by cabin
Is shot precisely
Across an ocean

From a mouth
From a
From the mouth
Of a girl like me
To a boy
To a boy
To a boy

But wait! There's more!

What is the Present-future tense of the verb "work"?


Think you can make a better English exercise question than this? Then we want you! :D


iTi Consulting, Inc. is now looking for EFL Material Writers. If you know how to cross your i's and dot your t's, and test learners to tell the difference, go to April Ibay from The Resources Team (aibay@gofluent.com), and tell her I sent you. ;)

This song just left me breathless.