Past Life

I honestly, completely, with-all-my-heart believe that it’s not yet the last.

It can’t be the last! It just can’t be.

I mean, come on, it’s good business! I think the Heads profited in two concerts (not to mention all the DVDs and records sold in between the two big events) everything they could’ve earned the past ten years that the band was off the music business. Pupil or Sandwich or The Dawn or Markus Highway could never fill up the MOA grounds and pull off what the Eraserheads did that night. Nope.

More importantly, everyone loved them! A decade, countless of controversies and bad publicities, several new bands, a bunch of music albums, and a couple of heart attacks later, everyone still loves the Eraserheads.

I was *accidentally* there last Saturday and I witnessed it myself, thanks to Marian who, just a few hours before the concert, textblast-ed that she had extra tickets. Hooray for impulsive decisions! I didn’t have to think it over, I just reserved the tickets right away.

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So I happened to have spent a day in Makati last week and many times during the day I wondered how and why my younger self enjoyed going to that chaotic place. It’s too crowded, the buildings are too far apart for walking (fine, maybe it’s just me getting old), parking and traffic are terrible, and it’s frustrating to find a decent wifi hot-spot, pretty abnormal for a place they claim to be the country’s business district.

Makati is really not for me.

I don’t know how or when it started to happen but I’ve suddenly become more sure about what I want, and how I want things to be.

See, I love New York, and I sure will fly back given a chance, but I will never settle down in that place. I love Sydney, love love love everything about it, and I will do everything in my power to keep coming back. I don’t like California at all, and unless I get an all-expenses-paid trip again, I don’t think I’ll ever go back.

I love coffee shops, I don’t like bars. I’m over with beer, and loud music, and parties. I’m all for movie nights with girlfriends, and coffee dates, and window shopping for furniture, and trips to the salon. I like Thursdays better than Fridays. I know which friends to call if I want to rant. I know who to be with if I want to sit still and stare and not say anything. I know who to nudge on YM or Skype when I have sudden bursts of ideas at any given time.

Before, I wasn’t too sure about these things. But now, well now, that has changed.

And what do you know, the future suddenly becomes bright and shiny when you start to figure out who you are, what you want, and what your calling is. I believe know God didn’t create us the way we are for nothing.

On another note, I have found a new stress release: digital scrapbooking! I can’t remember how I landed in the scrapbooking side of the web, all I know is ever since that day, it has been a daily struggle controlling myself from buying scrapbook stuff with my paypal muneys (oh noes).

My favorite sites are: Little Dreamer Designs, Lily Pad, and this just in, Paislee Press (who’s responsible for all the cute PPs and elements in my new header, wee).

I think I may have a better future in digital scrapbooking than in SEO! :P

Credits: Paislee Press’ Photogenic and Alteredego Kits
& Words from Kendall Payne’s song, Not Afraid to be Me

Can I just say.. I didn’t realize I’d have such a rewarding time getting to know myself until now.

P.S. Oh, and thanks to The Rico for the unsolicited Photoshop and CSS tutorial. I needed it. :)

This is an old one.

“I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love.” ~ Mother Teresa

I wish I thought of saying those words first.

I mean, blpht, I had my own “love sucks” and “love hurts” theories, which, I have to admit now, came out of bitterness and unavoidable hormonal imbalance. (Sorry naman!) And ugh, reading them now makes me think — that’s it? That’s the best you can say about love?

I’m envious of people like Mother Teresa who can say such beautiful words about love, and actually “live it”. Why is it so hard? Why, why, why?

I know she wasn’t just pertaining to romantic love. (Hey, it’s easier, I think, to love someone romantically.) She must have been talking about the kind of love that transcends logic and reason. Like loving the unlovable, or reaching out to your enemy, or forgiving someone who’ve hurt you deeply, or swallowing your pride to understand someone whom you thought is being unreasonable.

Ephesians 5:1 reads,

“Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave Himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”

Gulp.

It’s not an easy thing to do, this love. But love is a way of life we all have to learn to live. Even if it hurts.

No. Especially when it hurts.

(Hi, this is me, talking to myself again. Ktnxbye.)

Them.

Mom, Kuya Nate, Kuya Niks, and Lola

..and Kuya Nate’s pretty wifey Ate Imy :)
(Oh wow I finally have an older sister!)

I guess stuff like this happens when you’re an XX-chromosomed 25 year old (yes, just females), and you come home to a messy apartment, plates and pans from the past two nights’ dinner piled up on the sink waiting to be washed, and a hamper filled to the brim with dirty laundry waiting by your bathroom door. Sounds stressful, I know right. But hey, at this age, I still have the right to blame this on the hormones, right?

I have a bunch of chores to do, not to mention reports to finish, and all I can think of right now is how much I miss going home to a place where there are actual human beings to talk to or to have dinner with. I miss bossing my brothers around (no, wait, I think it’s the other way), my Mum’s lutong-bahay, Lola’s stories which I’ve heard about a hundred times already, and maybe some bonding time with my new (ehem) sister-in-law.

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I absolutely enjoyed Central Park, but looking back now, I think I may have experienced it at such a boring an ordinary time of the year. Thanks to Mitz and Kuya Jojo who’ve been *unconsciously* providing me my regular dose of New York fix, I realized that I missed a lot because I was in New York a few days earlier, in a trip that was a tad too short. Blpht.

Sure, I saw the Wollman Rink where Kate Beckinsale and John Cusack had their Serendipity moment. But when I was there in October, the rink wasn’t ready for skating, and the leaves wore dull shades of green.

Wollman Rink in October 2008

A few days after I left New York, Central Park bloomed with all sorts of Autumn colors, and Wollman Rink started to look like a totally different and magical place!

Taken by Mitzi, Autumn

A few more weeks later, winter came by and Wollman Rink sparkled with glittery snow.

Taken by Kuya Jojo, Winter

» Read the rest of this entry «

[Backtracked: Oh yay I have posts in my drafts folder, look! Why I didn’t publish this at the time I wrote it, I don’t know. So yeah, here’s something I wrote sometime in November when I was in Sydney. Hee.]

God does have a flair for drama. He paints the Makati skies with a breath-taking sunset just when you start complaining about how awful your boss or your day is. He shows you a 500-peso bill stuck in the backpocket of your jeans, just when you realize that sweldo is still several days away and you don’t have enough lunch money for the week.

And then He answers prayers just when you start thinking that He’s already closed all doors.

In the past four years, I’ve gone through all sorts of phases in this quest — from excitement, anticipation,  and “this is it” moments; to frustration and discouragement; even to the point of giving up.

But hey, Hillsong happened to me last night [November 16, that is]. And if you followed my blogs from day one, you’d know how much this means to me.

How great, how great is our God, indeed.

[Until we meet again, Hills. See ya soon.]

I miss a lot of things. I miss blogging what’s on my mind without worrying if someone will think that my posts are too icky or too unprofessional. (Fine, I miss blogging, period.) I miss pasting receipts, candy wrappers, and movie tickets on my journal, and trying to record moments in writing so I could easily look back.

I miss wandering aimlessly in a foreign place, getting lost, and figuring out my way back by counting hotdog stands. I miss listening to the sounds of a busy subway, and watching people walk their dogs in Central Park. I miss enjoying the sight a *real* cruise ship, and watching the sun set over Darling Harbor while munching on fish and chips with people you love. I miss taking pictures of everything and nothing in particular, and spending hours post-processing my shots.

And then sometimes, I miss myself. Which I used to think was bad. But now, in the course of missing myself, this whole picture of who I *really* am, and who I want to be becomes even more clear in my head.

Icky, all of this, sure. But hey, I’m not scared to be myself anymore. I’m 25 and life’s too short to worry about what other people think. From now on, that’s who I’m going to be — myself. And let me start by being reacquainted with the things I miss.

Oh hai, 2009. I think you and I are going to be good friends. I’m excited to get to know you. :)

At least that’s what my five year old nephew, Jay, said.

Alignment of the Moon, Venus, and Jupiter over Sydney skies, 12.02.08

Jay: Tita Rhiza, you know why the moon is sad?
Riz: No. Why?
Jay: Because you’re leaving tomorrow.

I think I’m gona cry. :(

P.S. But then I heard that it’s smiling over Manila skies. Get the picture? :P

I’m gona crash anytime soon *yaaawn*, even though I slept about 6 hours out of the 8 hour trip from MNL to SYD. I originally planned to work on some reports in the plane. Fifteen minutes through it, however, I started to feel dizzy so I decided to take the much needed hibernation instead. (I luuuv it!)

Anywayyy, I’m finally here in Sydney! Woot!

And what better Welcome Committee there is than Jonah, my nephew-slash-godson, who was running and jumping around the Arrival Terminal of the Kingsford Smith Airport when I checked out. (Not that he was excited to see me, haha. I’m sure he barely recognized his Ninang Riz, and was more excited about the huge playground he could run around in).

A lot has happened in the past 24 hours. Every now and then (say, while watching the sunset from the window seat of the plane, or pushing my trolley to the next check-in counter, or taking photos of the “Welcome to Sydney” banners hanging all over the terminal), I’d look back to 4 years ago when I first asked God to send me to this place. I remember all those blogs I posted here and there, documenting each prayer that was answered — even the ones that were not — which ultimately brought me here. Truth be told, Sydney was the first foreign place I ever took interest in. I fell in love with the idea of Sydney long before I wanted to see Singapore or New York or London.

What do you know, I’m here now. Not in the way I expected or hoped or imagined. But it’s actually even better, come to think of it. Ergo, the ultimate reflection of the day has got to be this: Prayers get answered when you trust that God has a better plan for you than you have for yourself. Pretty basic you say, but it sure does work all the time. ;)

I’m ready to explore you, Sydney. Thanks for the warm welcome. :) Xoxo, Riz

And now that the obligatory I’m-here-in-Sydney post is done, I crash. Zzz.

Did you know that the Greeks didn’t write obituaries or eulogies?  They only asked one question after a man died: “Did he have passion?”

Hep. Before you start googling those lines to see if I plagiarized a Hollywood film because you’re thinking, hey, that sounds familiar, let me help you by saying that yes, those aren’t my own words. They’re actually from the movie Serendipity.

And let me help you remember that movie by posting this:

Serendipity Cafe at East 60th Street

Sorry, I just had to post that one. I was there!! :P

You see, that’s one of the things I waste precious hours over lately. I’d watch old movies taken in New York sighing over the designer clothes, and if I see a place I happened to have been to when I was there, I’d open up my folder of photos again and look for that place and sigh and wish I could somehow go back.

Anyway, the point is, the New York fever is still not cured. And I’m currently stuck in that phase where replaying NY movies is more important to me than taking my regular dose of stress tabs. Or adjusting my sleeping habits so I can go to work early the next day.

The other day I dreamt I was lost in the subway, not knowing which train to take. And then the most annoying blonde approached me with her perfect teeth and perfectly combed hair and perfect New York accent, and she was the one who actually helped me find my way. Why, Lord, why those dreams? :(

And. I’m. Losing. My. Train. Of. Thought. Again.

What I’m really trying to share is, and I do have a point.. in the course of trying to nurse this seemingly incurable disease that New York left me with, I actually had an epiphany. And what do you know, a line in a movie actually made me realize what could be missing in this life of mine.

Passion.

I need to find passion. To be so obsessed about something again enough to make me wake up early in the morning and face the day with excitement. New Yorkers strike me that way — they’re a people full of passion and drive to move and live; after all, they probably won’t be able to survive a place like that not armed with loads of those.

And that’s probably what I need, too. I need a purpose greater than finding the perfect pair of boots. (Which I haven’t found yet, by the way, unless I finally decide to succumb to that Aldo pair which has been the closest thing to perfect, so far. Italktoomuchblahblah.) Or, perhaps, I need to re-evaluate myself and find that one thing that I used to be passionate about, and be re-acquainted with it.

And who knows, someday, that one question that the Greeks used to ask will be answered with a resounding YES in this life of mine.

I’m getting there, I know it. When I find it, I’ll let you know.