(Can you guess who am I in this picture? Hehehe)

CARLA

I have a soft spot for red Honda Civics. Every time I see a slick red Honda Civic whooshing past, I get this strange feeling like I want to run after it. It gets worse when I see one parked. I just want to go there and hug the car, feel the smooth paintjob under my fingertips, and blow air on the window and draw smileys. I haven’t actually materialized these fantasies of mine since I refuse to make myself look like an obvious suspect for grand theft auto. But I just can’t help but admire them. Red Honda Civics just remind me so much of Carla.
Carla was our old car. I was probably five or six years old back then, when my dad came home all smiles, and asked all of us to go to the street and look at something. When we stepped out of the gate, parked on the street was a red Honda Civic DX. I asked him where he borrowed the car, and he told us he had just bought it. He didn’t even tell my mom before that, and so we were all surprised, to say the least. We quickly hopped in, and the factory smell of plastic and something else was overwhelming. We drove around the neighborhood, my mom asking all sorts of questions that were mostly centered on how much the car cost while the two sisters at the back were tickling and laughing at each other.
I remember going to Zambalez several weeks after, and we went to this church where my dad said we had to have the car baptized. My mom said we should give our car a name. I immediately said Carla because I thought it was a nice name. Then my parents laughed and said, “Carla because it’s a car. So if we have a van, what would you name it? Ivan or Vanessa?” They joked. It took a lot of explaining from them for me to understand just what they meant, but when I did get it, I was laughing along with them.
We had a lot of fond memories with Carla. Since it was only just us two sisters in the back, we busied ourselves playing all sorts of games in Carla. We would play P.A.N.T.S., and the loser gets to be tickled endlessly by the winner. We would also play a game wherein we predict whether the car was going to turn right or left. Unfortunately, I was rather poor with directions, and always ended up saying ‘left’ when I’m pointing at right.
We also made several trips to Baguio where we would go “Whee!” every time we were going through the zigzag roads. There was even one occasion when we parked the car for the night outside of our ancestral home in Baguio, and someone had drilled holes on the side of the door and tried to steal Carla. We were thankful that, by some miracle, they had failed to steal the car. Then there was this time when we were playing with plastic balloons and we had left a popped plastic balloon on the hood, and destroyed the paintjob. My dad was so angry, he forbade us to buy plastic balloons ever again.
Then there was this time when we were returning from summer vacation from La Union wherein we got into an accident and the whole front of Carla was crumpled. I cried instantly from the sheer fright of getting into an accident, and the fact that our beloved car was wrecked. We got her fixed and almost good as new a short time later, but that spelled the beginning of the end.
When we went through a rough and financially difficult time a few months after the accident, my dad decided to sell Carla so that we could have some extra cash. I distinctly remember crying the instant I heard the news. Carla was practically like a sister to me. I celebrate her birthdays on September 10, I help my dad vacuum her, bathe her, and wax her. I even show her my little doodles by drawing them on her windows, or on her doors when she hasn’t had a bath in days. And now, my dad is selling her? I couldn’t understand why, and I asked my dad not to sell the car. “I love Carla,” I told him. “We’ll buy a new one someday. Besides, Carla’s not in as good a condition as she was before the accident,” he reasoned out.
That was when my penchant for red Honda Civics began. I promised myself that someday I would hunt down whoever owns Carla and buy the car from them. Even if she isn’t functional anymore, I wanted to restore her and just nestle her in a clean garage, and visit her everyday, talk to her and sit with her like she was my long lost sister. Maybe I want to find her again because she reminds me so much of the joys I had during my childhood. She reminds me of the years our family spent wherein we rarely worried about money, countless bills to pay, and our health, and we spent our days going in little trips out of town, in Baguio and in Zambalez. Maybe I just want to get back that one icon in my childhood that I lost when life suddenly became too complicated.
I know I may never find Carla again. But I won’t give up trying. Until then, I will continue to ogle at red Honda Civics as they pass by me on the street, or as they sit silently in parking lots, and hope that maybe someday, I will be ogling at our Carla again, and not just some anonymous look-alike.

The 5th F4 Member
(or is it F5 now?)
Ever since I got my hair straightened a bit, everyone has been saying I look like Vanness Wu. You know, the guy with straight, shoulder-length hair in the boy band F4. Yep. They say I look like him. My dad’s first words when he came home from Sri Lanka were, “You look like the guy in Meteor Garden!” I have to admit it was funny the first couple of times. But it just got downright irritating after that. Imagine hearing that you look like an F4 member. Every. Single. Time.
I don’t know whether I should be flattered that I look like him because he is rather good looking, or if I should be insulted that they say I look like a man. Either way, it’s not funny anymore. And, couldn’t people just compare me to a decent looking girl for a change?

MiG Ayesa

MiG Ayesa

I am a huge fan of Rockstar INXS. I think all of the contestants are really, really talented, and would surely blow away any of the American Idol wannabes. But, I can’t deny that I have my own favorite to win the competition. I want MiG Ayesa to win. MiG, in case you are not familiar with the show, is a Filipino/ Australian. He was born in Manila and grew up in Australia. It’s pretty obvious that I like him because he’s one of us. Unlike Jasmine Trias who I heard has a diva attitude, and whom I only tolerated because she was Filipino, I absolutely adore MiG’s voice, the way he performs, and his kind and caring manner.

     He might not be the best vocalist in the group, but he makes up for it by putting up a really good show. He always manages to make me go ‘wow’ every time he performs. But, on his latest performance where he sung Baby I Love Your Way (or something like that), I was totally blown away. He sang while he played the piano, and he sang with such emotion and passion that you could feel the music and the words reverberating in your heart.

     Careful not to look like a crazy groupie in front of my family, I clapped calmly after he performed, but sadly, I lost it when they showed the members of INXS giving him a standing ovation, and the women contestants Deana and Suzie were crying. Guest host Dave Navarro even said in his comment that all he could think about during MiG’s performance was how much he loves his wife (yep, Dave’s married to none other than Carmen Electra, in case you didn’t know).

     This riveting performance earned MiG a spot at the top three of the contest, as well as an encore performance, which he graciously shared with Jordis and Marty, the other two in the top three. He truly deserves of the honor. The only thing left for me to say is good luck to him. Hope he wins. (

Somebody Else's Secret

It was about six years ago, September, my father's birthday. I got home late from school and I still didn't have something for him. At around 7 pm, I decided to rush to the nearest mall to get him a zippo lighter since he kept on losing his. The car was heavily tinted, backed up from the garage, and then BANG! (insert gruesome death scene music here) ~.~

Cheated By Time

Why is it that when you are enjoying something, the cogwheels of time seem to turn faster? Knowing the fact that time slips by a lot quicker when you’re having fun actually spoils the fun for you. Time seems to cheat you constantly. And it’s not fair.

My dad works in Sri Lanka and comes home to us every two or three months. Sometimes he stays for a few days, and other times he stays for a week or two. This time, he’s staying for a little over two weeks.

Everyday life seems to be more fun when my dad is around and my family is together. Even watching TV, eating, and sleeping seem more enjoyable. Life just feels complete. However, like everything else, it must come to an end at some point. And this time, the end for us is on the 11th, when my dad will return to Sri Lanka.

The moment he came home on the 26th, I have programmed myself to accept the fact that he’ll be leaving soon. I always program myself, and convince myself to accept it so that when he leaves again, I won’t be too depressed. But, sad to say, the programmer made a fatal error.

I misunderstood when my dad said he was leaving. I thought he was supposed to leave on the 17th, and so all this time, I thought we had more time to spend together. I only found out yesterday that he was going to leave on the 11th and not on the 17th, and it totally got me by surprise. I felt like time was cruelly snatched away from me. Time, it seemed, has just increased its speed ten times, and I wasn’t ready for it.

Even now, as I type away these last few words, I feel so betrayed. I still don’t want my dad to go, but I can’t do anything to stop it. Time has cheated me yet again. And it’s just not fair at all.

Zo, how waz Zoobic?
(Cheezy, I know. I just can’t help it. :p)

My family went to Subic last weekend. My dad arrived last week from Sri Lanka and wanted to spend some time away from Metro Manila so we packed our bags and drove all the way to Subic. Besides staying in a hotel for a day, and eating all the seafoods I could get my hands on, I got to sit on a couch with a real tiger cub, saw a tiger eat a live chicken, and I even got bitten by one!
Yep. Tigers run amok in Subic. Not on the streets, though. They roam around freely in a place called Zoobic Zafari. In case you haven’t heard of the place yet, Zoobic Zafari is this wonderful place where animals roam around the property and where humans are free to interact with them (with the exception of those potentially dangerous animals like the reptiles, bears, and the full-grown tigers).
I got to pet ducks and baby ostriches, run after guinea foul, scratch the tummy of adorable little Boris the pot-bellied pig, and sit in a hut with a couple of huge goats. I also got to sit in our car as it drove around in the ostrich enclosure. The guide said normally they let people out of their vehicles to stand around with the giant birds, but it was mating season and well, you get the picture.
I also got to ride a jeep in the tiger enclosure with no less than five full-grown tigers. It was an amazing experience. One family on another jeep purchased a live chicken and fed it to a tiger. I saw the tiger grab at the chicken with its paws and watched as he started eating the chicken while its head and feet were still moving.
The highlight of my trip to Zoobic was when I got to pose for several pictures with a tiger cub. The first pictures were with a tiger cub near the entrance. My sister sat beside me on the couch and the trainer placed the cub on our laps, his front paws on my thigh, and his face dangerously close to mine.
The second set of pictures was with another equally adorable cub. I’m not sure what part of the zoo it was. I think it was their vet clinic. Anyway, this cute little cub was lounging on the hallway. I sat by his side and petted him. His fur was so soft. Ang likot pa nya. He couldn’t sit still and he even bit me on the knee. At first I was shocked that the tiger actually bit me, but then I realized it didn’t even sting. It only felt like a light scratch. The trainer said he was only playing, and when I found out it was alright, I continued playing with the tiger. He was so adorable I wanted to take him home and raise him like what Jasmine did with her Rajah. Sadly, I’m no Arabian princess and I don’t have the dough to get a tiger of my own (if it even is legal here in the Philippines to own a tiger as a pet).
I’ve been to Singapore Zoo’s Night Safari, and no offense to Singaporeans, but the Night Safari paled in comparison to Zoobic Zafari. For me, Zoobic Zafari captured the feeling and the essence of a real safari more than the Night Safari did. Sure, there were more animals in the Night Safari, but that is only because Zoobic Zafari has only been operational for more than a year, and only 40 percent of the whole zoo has been completed so far. The guide said that hopefully within the year, they could complete the rodent area, the savannah (where the animals from the African planes will stay), the crocodile area, and the elephant and camel rides. I’m sure when the Zoobic Zafari would be fully operational, it would attract a lot of people to the area, and finally give the Philippines a tourist spot that people from all over the world would be just thrilled to go to.

This picture is from:
http://homepage3.nifty.com/kakitsuka/sketch/pictures/rose.jpg

A Single Rose

“Why did you choose Dad?” I can remember asking my mom that question. We were seated around the table after dinner, sharing all sorts of jokes and stories like we always do every mealtime. Often times, my mom would share stories of her childhood, and tales of the time when she was still dating my dad. Of course it was easy for us to just talk about my dad like that since he’s a seven-hour plane ride away from us.

“I don’t know,” my mom said. “He wasn’t the best looking. He wasn’t rich either,” my mom said with a laugh. “He was still in the military then, and I was a nurse at the base,” she paused. “But, your dad was certainly very kind, and very thoughtful.”

“Really, how so?” My Ate asked.
“Well, he didn’t give me any gifts. No chocolates for Valentine’s Day. No flowers whenever he visited me at our quarters. He didn’t even take me out on any fancy dinners.”
“So, how does that count as thoughtful? He was kuripot!” I said.
“There was this one gift, though,” she said. “It was a single rose.”
“Ah! So he did give you a gift,” I said.
“Yes, but you could tell he just picked that rose out of the garden since it didn’t have a long stem. It was just the flower and maybe an inch long stem. Besides, there were rose bushes growing just outside the soldiers’ quarters. So you could say he was kuripot.”
“And?” my younger sister urged my mom to continue her tale.
“You see, in the base, there are many more men than there are women. Your dad lived with several other men in the same quarters and he told me that most of the other guys were also eying this one rose. They were all waiting for it to bloom so that they can pick it and give it to whomever they want. They were even betting on who would get it first. Your dad, however, beat the other guys to it. He checked on it everyday, made sure it was still there and still in perfect shape, and the moment he saw that the rose was already in full bloom, he picked it and gave it to me,” she said. “Of course, after that, all the other guys in the quarters were pretty bummed they didn’t get the rose,” she told us with a small smile on her face. Even if she didn’t say anything, I could tell she missed my dad even more.

And that was when I understood. That single rose that my dad gave to my mom all those years ago was more than just a flower. It was a precious prize he had won for all his diligence and effort. It was, most of all, a testament of his love. I realized then that although my dad didn’t express his love through expensive gifts, lavish dinner dates, or bouquets and bouquets of flowers, he was able to show my mom just how much he loved her through his thoughtfulness. He was able to express his love even with just a single rose.

Happy 21st anniversary mommy and daddy, and happy 52nd birthday daddy. I love you both so much.