tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35829374897119031682024-03-05T02:54:51.308-08:00StorieSpoonFuLsword polaroids by Maria Alina Co
alinarco@gmail.comAlina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-72694681765058233052012-04-29T10:37:00.001-07:002012-04-30T21:17:04.811-07:00Happy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFfyN9UuLKDc2rTio5xeUrxhAbjJVQGIjQsYyotzPhaKm85iy82Vgwd5GIB4NGU-JoH81mQ9njoH5-dGP6UBpVrQ6eDkFcO0XAyarSdD4eIVHAVOZwx8jJnuhx5qI1E01lAHUbMO1XkSPm/s1600/alina+lomo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFfyN9UuLKDc2rTio5xeUrxhAbjJVQGIjQsYyotzPhaKm85iy82Vgwd5GIB4NGU-JoH81mQ9njoH5-dGP6UBpVrQ6eDkFcO0XAyarSdD4eIVHAVOZwx8jJnuhx5qI1E01lAHUbMO1XkSPm/s320/alina+lomo.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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These days, I have lots to smile about. </div>
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I have this pleasantly strange feeling </div>
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like everything's falling into place.</div>
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I've got You to thank for that,</div>
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and my angel Kathrina Tiudy</div>
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who's probably been having coffee with you</div>
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up there with a nice view.</div>
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<br /></div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-74209228961725888662012-03-08T08:02:00.002-08:002012-03-08T08:11:03.081-08:00Hmmmn.<div><br /></div><div>After a long hiatus.... here I am, attempting to string words, short and sweet, to explain the long pause between my last entry and now, this.</div><div><br /></div><div>But I changed my mind.</div><div><br /></div><div>There's no need to explain, to update, to connect the dots.</div><div><br /></div><div>My life now is like a photo being dipped into a pail of fixer. Blurry, wet images forming into splotches of color.</div><div><br /></div><div>The person in the picture is faceless. And as it forms a figure, a smile, a shape, the water suddenly ripples. Then I wake up. </div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-35482183901992377922011-08-16T10:29:00.000-07:002011-08-16T10:43:40.123-07:00Thinking about Routes<div>
<br /></div><div>I often ask myself, wouldn't it be easier if God just whispered to you what your personal legend is (borrowing a term from Coehlo) Just a teensy tiny hint. Or He can go visual, like if I'm walking outside and He lets me see a light shining on a word or phrase. Anything!</div><div>
<br /></div><div>But then again, where's the challenge in that? What of free will, or objective thinking? I guess like most people, there's a struggle between following one's heart or mind. Follow your heart, what does that even mean? So I guess by dropping the personal legend-whispering, we are taught to carve our own journeys and choose our own paths? Sounds cliche but it's true.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Our lives, if we try looking ahead, is made of of forked roads. We can go this way or that. We can walk in circles, or some choose to just stop and rest altogether by not budging any more.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>My take is that sometimes though, He lets us see this road map of zigs and zags so that we can decide for ourselves which is <b>our way </b>to "the destination". </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Until then, the map is a senseless route and we'd get lost over and over. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Yes, I'm looking at my road map now and I'm getting nervous. But with faith, I know He's got it covered. </div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-63558833931304157032011-04-05T10:11:00.000-07:002011-04-19T09:55:23.476-07:00Learn Something New. That's it, pansit!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDp3HHf4z6FAafuYB5mq78XQ_4E0SXJO9_mfUPDtHa2LuF1OiFuEV12qVLrIGrYQ8PytAkfxeVttXI6TcYjMP8znt7_nAzMoBrmzuerDEywgdV2Hx5vo_FE4mbMbr6XS-wGNkcw2hYL90H/s1600/life.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDp3HHf4z6FAafuYB5mq78XQ_4E0SXJO9_mfUPDtHa2LuF1OiFuEV12qVLrIGrYQ8PytAkfxeVttXI6TcYjMP8znt7_nAzMoBrmzuerDEywgdV2Hx5vo_FE4mbMbr6XS-wGNkcw2hYL90H/s320/life.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592157599954106786" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'courier new';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">F</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">inally!!!! Can't believe I AM BLOGGING...again. It's been a while. From the start of 2011 up to the end of March, it was non-stop school and work for me. Overflowing readings and papers, classes to attend, scripts to voice, deadlines to beat, shoots to supervise, segments to write. Not that I'm complaining. He. :)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So anyway, since it's sembreak (YEEEY!) and I've been going through a withdrawal (I wake up at 4 am every morning, my body's way of saying it's not used to a, uhm, less action-packed schedule), I'm thankful for this time I'm able to think over things in my life...naks! In short, nagmuni-muni (what is this word's etymology anyway?)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Well, because I just want to let this out. And you know, something I can glance at when I'll be confused or depressed in the future (not looking forward to that though! haha). I just want to put on record that despite everything I've gone through since college and joining the real world, I am finally able to say that I am happy. Not WHOOPEE happy, or tearful BOO-HOOO happy. But just simply and wonderfully happy. I realized the best thing that I did in my adult life was going back to school. Because once you start working and you're working really hard, sometimes it gets mechanical and you kind of forget the point of everything: which is to learn something new. When do people get burned out or bored at work? It's because they forgot to be curious of the littlest things and getting something out of every experience. And school (masteral) taught me that. I'm taking up Masteral in Communication, the same thing I do for work, but I'm taking up lots of classes the likes of which I never heard in college like New Media, Organizational Communication, Media Studies, Development Comm. Some people will find this dorky, but, well...I am...essentially a dork. Proud to be one!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">How did I go through a hell semester with three subjects (one of them's the toughest one Communication Research, which people normally take last and with just that one subject), and lots of projects to finish for work? I live by this principle -- Philosopher Vernon Howard (1918- 1992) said this:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">"Always walk through life as if you have something new to learn and you will."</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It's simple, but for me, that says a lot. I can live by this statement all my life and I know I'll be fine. I'll get through life okay :)</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">You know when you have that feeling, that instinct that you are where you are supposed to be? That's what I'm feeling now. All the choices, decisions, both good and bad, that I made before -- all led me to where I am now, and I'm just so thankful to Him, my good friend God, my family gosh my family who really supports me (yeah I know I'm a lucky gal), my boyfriend and bestfriend Sam and all my friends. I am just grateful. I'm not preachy religious type, but yes, everything I have now, it all belongs to Him. It is in His greatness that I live. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">One time, my boyfriend, who was going through a lot at work, told me he thinks of me every time he's on the verge of exploding. He told me if I get through all the things I do, why can't he? My heart almost melted. I almost cried :( </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I guess every time I hear it from him and my friends that they draw strength from me, that toughens me up. I draw strength from them as well. It's a a circle of bonding and strength that has no end.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Some people might judge me and say why I'm not getting married yet, you know having kids and all that jazz, how can I possibly explain to them all these? I am still exploring life, how can I give this up to give life to another human being? It's not that I don't want that, I just know it's not yet the time. No hurries!</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Photo from: http://browse.deviantart.com/?qh=&section=&q=life#/d1562bu</span></span></i></div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-15459442018525795802011-02-17T09:57:00.000-08:002011-10-06T09:07:43.955-07:00Baguio Booking (opopop!... i don't mean the gay term "booking"!)<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixKhoZtaHLeJoD-Nytm-nciPTJH-XJeae7ZLuOVlwaKB2odlcyuGnhsTfoFg0DLuJHcdl98RfizN6jSnsuNSchAPfPCi0BqzXyjHUM-m8nR4LivgeqgtHn2btqdoYjuhe8bJW_0TwGDBpy/s1600/read.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixKhoZtaHLeJoD-Nytm-nciPTJH-XJeae7ZLuOVlwaKB2odlcyuGnhsTfoFg0DLuJHcdl98RfizN6jSnsuNSchAPfPCi0BqzXyjHUM-m8nR4LivgeqgtHn2btqdoYjuhe8bJW_0TwGDBpy/s320/read.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574720570557421250" /></a><div><br /></div><div>Went to Mt. Cloud BookShop in Baguio. I realized how much I love books, especially fiction and someday, I want to have a book shop of my own. But I like the romance and mystery behind second hand books, then perhaps, spicing up the experience with tea, coffee and pastries. Hmm.... just the thought of it makes me happy :)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrdMTUOTjJksxzYLklR3qGNl1RdQsbR8Hn2hVAYAOUnCWKt7dA720zDaHkVLbajZ2BQ2x7S3w3fS8LDW54L_-D3hE9uCk5XyAGmAdDKAeQ7Pn5HaC9eZUjvxc8mbyB7AmlJdlsIZ31d913/s1600/DSC05373.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrdMTUOTjJksxzYLklR3qGNl1RdQsbR8Hn2hVAYAOUnCWKt7dA720zDaHkVLbajZ2BQ2x7S3w3fS8LDW54L_-D3hE9uCk5XyAGmAdDKAeQ7Pn5HaC9eZUjvxc8mbyB7AmlJdlsIZ31d913/s320/DSC05373.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5574720843986840930" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Mt. Cloud was pretty small but the selection of books was interesting. I love that it had zines and graphic novels drawn and printed (xeroxed!) by local artists. Prices of regular books (meaning books with publishers) are a bit steep though, not much difference from Manila. Still, the cold weather, combined with the warm cozy feel of the store, plus coffee from a nearby Cafe made the experience definitely worth it. I could've stayed for hours in Mt. Cloud, but we had more places to visit in our itinerary. But I will definitely be back!</div><div><br /></div><div>Mt. Cloud is located at Casa Vallejo, at Hill Station in Baguio City.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-15474235898917629392011-01-09T07:49:00.000-08:002011-01-09T08:48:29.913-08:00Isang Taon.<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Dear Tiudy,</div><div> <p class="MsoNormal">Uy kamusta ka na? Grabe isang taon ka nang hindi nagpakita! Wish ko lang ganun lang kadali yun eh no. Parang facebook o text message lang sa isang kaibigan—“hoy isang taon ka nang hindi nagpakita sa’min!” sabay magre-reply ka, “busy lang, promise dinner tayo soon, kelan kayo puwede?” </p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKw3AbijSoM6Y0Y_5smh7AihfVsFynqHulhNjT_3rrUO2-fhDdpUXePX9Q3X_fiBKqSjx9zpQTzpAsZwXGv3sVQO1Gma5kKWCs8vvOoRdmTwbshFzUCYlHjOxOR6SXohS0HRyPwxgwPQJm/s1600/DSC03729.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKw3AbijSoM6Y0Y_5smh7AihfVsFynqHulhNjT_3rrUO2-fhDdpUXePX9Q3X_fiBKqSjx9zpQTzpAsZwXGv3sVQO1Gma5kKWCs8vvOoRdmTwbshFzUCYlHjOxOR6SXohS0HRyPwxgwPQJm/s320/DSC03729.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560221467619666370" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">picture 'to namin nila diaz, na naka-display sa closet ni tiuds. hanggang ngayon, ganoon pa rin ang ayos ng kuwarto niya.</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Naka-ilang eksena na rin akong ganito. Nung minsan, newly renovated ang bahay, ang instinct ko agad hanapin ang pangalan mo sa phonebook ko at yayain ka.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>O kaya sa umaga, pagliko ko sa kanto sa may sakayan ng FX, hanapin yung babaeng maputi na naka-China Bank uniform, kumaway at sumigaw ng “Tiudy!!!” Recently, nung gumagawa ako ng listahan ng mga kaibigan kong bibigyan ko ng Christmas gift, naluha na lang ako bigla kasi ikaw agad yung naisip kong isulat. Oo, alam ko, magastos ka regaluhan kasi dapat bongga lagi gift ko sayo, pero mas pipiliin ko pang magsayang ng libo-libo, kahit milyon-milyon ngayon, mabuhay ka lang, makasama ka keysa makatipid ngayong Pasko sa mga kaibigan (kasi naman sa kuripot kong ‘to, P50-P100 lang ang budget ko sa mga friends at ang iba pa nga hindi ko niregaluhan).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Isang taon. Hindi ako makapaniwala na isang taon lang ang nakakaraan, bandang alas-kuwatro ng umaga, nag-flat yung life line at binawian ka na ng buhay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>At ilang oras bago noon, mga bago mag-12 midnight, sinabi ng duktor sa magulang mo na 'yun na, wala nang pagasa. Kasi nung bago nung oras na yun, umaasa pa kaming lahat eh. Ayan tuloy naiiyak nako. Sorry na. Alam ko ayaw mo na'ko umiyak, at masaya ka na diyan. Masakit lang kasi talaga mawalan ng kaibigan at alam mo ‘to, na kaunti lang ang mga kaibigan ko. At kahit na nawalan ako ng oras sa'yo dati at nagkaroon tayo ng mga pagkakatampo, ikaw pa din at wala nang iba yung number one na kaibigan ko. Sa'yo ko lang kaya magpaka-totoo. Sayo ko lang kinuwento lahat-lahat, tungkol sa pamilya ko, sa lovelife ko, insecurities, sa mga pangarap, mga kagagahan ko. Ikaw lang yung talagang nakakaintindi sa'kin.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnwTc0Fyf0py1GrEM1aSeYuhr1lgA1aLQMJm6WIzRMQgMeGNmyKgvAgniml2SAAAwKVcfLlVkRmQGnHSsDZ634pWBhL0iaEEqP_ag45lwG7xDksm91Pu7XAWDARX11HYKBmGBZAF5htLNq/s1600/ali+and+tiuds.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnwTc0Fyf0py1GrEM1aSeYuhr1lgA1aLQMJm6WIzRMQgMeGNmyKgvAgniml2SAAAwKVcfLlVkRmQGnHSsDZ634pWBhL0iaEEqP_ag45lwG7xDksm91Pu7XAWDARX11HYKBmGBZAF5htLNq/s320/ali+and+tiuds.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560224027969340434" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px; " /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">Minsan, pag nalulungkot ako, inaalala ko yung boses mo pag tumatawag ka sa bahay, habang may nginunguya ka pa, tas bubungangaan mo muna ko, sabay kakamustahin. O yung pang-aasar mo sa’kin ng mataba o pikon. Namimiss ko 'yun eh. Lahat yun. Pati yung pang-iisa mo sakin sa taxi fare at sa pamasahe. Tiudy, tingin ko hindi ako makaka-recover ever sa pagkawala mo. I don’t think I ever will. Minsan lang may dumating na ganoong klaseng friendship sa buhay ng tao…at hindi yun napapalitan o nahihilom ng panahon, ng tao, lugar, bagay, o ala-ala. Thankful pa din ako na nakilala kita at nakasama ng maraming taon. Okay na ‘yun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Nagpapasalamat na’ko ng sobra-sobra kay Lord nu’n. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Salamat Tiudy sa pagiging kaibigan sa akin…alam ko wala tayo masyadong common traits pero for some reason, hinatak mo’ko nung grade 3 at muli, noong 1<sup>st</sup> year highschool, at simula noon, naging bestfriends na tayo. Dati-rati nagiisip pako, diba dapat ang magkaibigan magkapareho ng ugali, ng hilig? Pero hindi pala. Mahal mo 'yun tao despite everything, kaibigan mo siya at tinatanggap ang lahat-lahat sa kanya. 'Period. 'Yan ang natutunan ko sayo, kaya salamat talaga…Grabe isang taon na Tiuds, may konsepto ba ng taon, minuto, segundo diyan? Tingin ko wala, feeling ko endless yung oras…. Oh well malalaman ko din kapag panahon ko na, 'pag panahon na din natin magkita’t maglunch at icecream diyan sa Taas at chumika nang chumika nang walang sawa…</p><p class="MsoNormal">-Alina</p></div><div><br /></div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-40510224666590441462011-01-04T12:02:00.000-08:002011-01-04T12:43:23.371-08:00Holiday Hung- Over<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYQqo9U0lgV5vK5R0OgPK_eXuloqLAzexUixyXHrtZjyTBHcKd15GbRPp8qWoRNNOiEd277qkwx-3Sav3GAHAC1rsnnVMQJH509BZF9Tgp9a-sWs6OuOWb9ck0d7deSpM_mDaG25GpsXx/s1600/tequila_shot-263x300.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 263px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYQqo9U0lgV5vK5R0OgPK_eXuloqLAzexUixyXHrtZjyTBHcKd15GbRPp8qWoRNNOiEd277qkwx-3Sav3GAHAC1rsnnVMQJH509BZF9Tgp9a-sWs6OuOWb9ck0d7deSpM_mDaG25GpsXx/s320/tequila_shot-263x300.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558433177749820498" /></a><div><br /></div><div>I can't sleep. This could not be insomnia. More like a holiday hang-over. I've washed down the tequila, drained my savings out of ticking off my Christmas list and bid my Big Bang Theory late night marathons goodbye. </div><div><br /></div><div>Instead of staring on the ceiling, imagining sheep, I decided to just go ahead and blog. Blog with no plans. Blog without thinking of a theme or a topic. Just random rambling. 'Cause thinking too much keeps away the fun in blogging right?</div><div><br /></div><div>So what the hell am I thinking now? Well I'm kinda hyper, even in my sleepless state (drank too much coffee perhaps). I'm thinking of how I'm gonna get through a whole day of video editing later. Thinking of turning one year older this year (damn you calendars and new year) and what I'm gonna do about it. I thought about making a new year's resolution list but decided against it. I mean what's the point, what's the fun in that? That's why I never get to fill up my planners, 'cause I hate to plan.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm thinking about getting more freelance work to beef up my savings. Ahh! Thought of a solution, what if I get a TV job that shoots only during weekends? Like a live broadcast. Perhaps just one or two meetings on weekdays, but how do I find a raket like that? Buying a video camera and have it rented out PLUS I get to make my videos and films for free! I'm thinking of drinking a sleeping pill but I get too groggy and I almost fall down my bed. How I've got only three days to lose weight for my friend's wedding, good luck with that! My dress is aqua blue with rhinestones, real pretty. I'm excited to see my friend after....around four years I guess? I must have a pimple now, I mean it's 5 am and I'm still wide awake, blogging and Facebooking. I need to rest!</div><div><br /></div><div>But thoughts are flowing like crazy this morning and I haven't eaten breakfast yet! </div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-30286642298995564622010-11-05T17:08:00.000-07:002010-11-05T17:30:25.313-07:00The Sweetness of Doing Nothing<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><div>I'm supposed to be finishing a segment for work, but here I am, trying to delay the stress, facebooking, reading blogs, enjoying the sweetness of doing nothing before plunging into work stuff again.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's kinda fun.</div><div><br /></div><div>And now, I'm thinking, if I'm not here right now in my room, if I'm not obliged to work and finish graduate school to have an edge, where would I rather be? What would I rather do?</div><div><br /></div><div>I imagine myself in a faraway place, in a beach in another country. Not the loud beach type, but a kind of tranquil, isolated one. With a nearby local village market, where everything was foreign, and food was fresh and exotic. I'd go home to a small hut by the beachfront and cook my own meals. I'd be reading books the whole day, then ride a bicycle to my graduate school a few kilometers away, where I also teach. I'd be taking up a cool course, not lucrative, but something that I've always wanted to take-- community development, perhaps women and development. At the same time, I am writing a journal about the status of women in the country and how they have managed to rise beyond being second-class citizens. People think of me as strange, but nevertheless liked me for my warmth and compassion.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhek4XaY363AELArTt-yKIvqfiLvdt2PTJGpzC7w1SggMPrks90Q3WWYc-EIxzoRWkAnkZxX53BwJk68ZuFFGttVzT6josPy7pOBJCP5jeY3iLdDmqwjj6VqF8hFKAy6IAINjJWhjM3kSWw/s1600/89269022.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhek4XaY363AELArTt-yKIvqfiLvdt2PTJGpzC7w1SggMPrks90Q3WWYc-EIxzoRWkAnkZxX53BwJk68ZuFFGttVzT6josPy7pOBJCP5jeY3iLdDmqwjj6VqF8hFKAy6IAINjJWhjM3kSWw/s320/89269022.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536226448519733970" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 206px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>On weekends, I'd be dipping my feet on the sand while reading literature-- a Murakami or Gaiman book perhaps. Or probbably, Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar or one of Isabel Allende's magic realist books. </div><div><br /></div><div>A dark guy will approach me and hand over a letter. It will be from my Mom, wanting to know if I'm coming home for Christmas.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oops, time's up! I'm back in my room and I'm in front of my Mac Book. Back to work. Back to my real life, which is not so bad after all.</div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-81384257749597390302010-10-30T19:22:00.000-07:002010-10-30T19:37:22.488-07:00Behind the Byline of Preview's Society Editor<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zXkxrYdZL3FPm6Qzk_Ev1pJ3Nu7jKNGZtEvAAkYBRngazdPWK_RMQ-QLPyh5K_jUE7WFurO2ip6HSpbRY6PoBCZ2Mx_x0Kx_29sXPaZReNSndOwoR7esLgxvTkrf9la9VqJlSvUlsOz0/s1600/raymond+g.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zXkxrYdZL3FPm6Qzk_Ev1pJ3Nu7jKNGZtEvAAkYBRngazdPWK_RMQ-QLPyh5K_jUE7WFurO2ip6HSpbRY6PoBCZ2Mx_x0Kx_29sXPaZReNSndOwoR7esLgxvTkrf9la9VqJlSvUlsOz0/s320/raymond+g.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534030070496544178" /></a><br /><div>Friends! Don't miss the latest episode of Behind the Bylines featuring the number one fashion magazine Preview's Society Editor Raymond Gutierrez.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yep, Raymond or "Mond" to his close friends has been the Society Editor of Preview for more than a year. A member of an elite showbiz family, Raymond is surprisingly humble, funny, down-to-earth and most of all, real.</div><div><br /></div><div>"It makes me grounded because as I have said, it's an environment I'm not used to. I have a boss. I have an office. It's a different ball game, I have a deadline I have to rush, I have to do it now. I have no other choice. It's new and fresh and kinda makes me feel alive, cause I've been used to the whole showbiz world my whole life...."</div><div><br /></div><div>We know Raymond as a TV host in GMA 7, formerly in Pinoy Idol and currently, in Party Pilipinas and Showbiz Central. Most of the time, he does the interviewing, but tables are turned when Behind the Bylines gets up close and personal.</div><div><br /></div><div>See Raymond as he juggles a tight schedule shooting a society page with Maggie Wilson and hurries to go to the airport for an event coverage in Cebu. And...uh-oh, what happens when it's drizzling in an outdoor shoot? Will the picture still be fab?</div><div><br /></div><div>Find out on November 2, Tuesday at 9 pm. Only on Star World. </div><div><br /></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">***Picture courtesy of Raymond Gutierrez.</span></i></div><div><br /></div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-77640259102916607692010-10-23T07:52:00.000-07:002010-10-23T08:38:36.910-07:00Kathrina Tiu dy appears to be offline.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho_aOHXrTywQcgLm94vBQ_98mmut4QyKRXpPs1f9180cv_LMPMPcIq5vXS1_vU_dTN5-tc2W7xp3IMdGApZkAT-asB06wKrC39F0UquODJuMI7drqYeXdVo8FuXAyIAX2mqa2hg9fDm-i3/s1600/tiuds.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 247px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho_aOHXrTywQcgLm94vBQ_98mmut4QyKRXpPs1f9180cv_LMPMPcIq5vXS1_vU_dTN5-tc2W7xp3IMdGApZkAT-asB06wKrC39F0UquODJuMI7drqYeXdVo8FuXAyIAX2mqa2hg9fDm-i3/s320/tiuds.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531262343084638226" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Kathrina Tiu Dy appears to be offline. In yahoo messenger, that is.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">It's been almost 10 months since my bestfriend Kat Tiudy passed away.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I dread the day January 10th of next year comes, cause that will be the first year anniversary of her death.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Sometimes I forget she's gone. Like one good thing happens, and I immediately think, "hey I'm going to text Tiudy" or recently, when our house was newly renovated, she was the first one I thought of, who I'd love to invite. I said, "Wait 'til Tiuds sees this" then I remember. And all the memories of her death flood back.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Her facebook page is still online, with a lot of her friends and relatives posting and saying hi, tagging photos of her. I open my facebook account and there on the right side, it says "Say hi to Kathrina". I like that her facebook page is still there, it's soothing to think she's still here with us in space, even if it means cyber space. I love to see her smile on her profile picture, because I like imagining her happy in heaven and I know she is. I haven't erased her on yahoo, and her name's still on my phone book. It's not that I'm not yet over her death. I just like holding on to her face, her laugh, her jokes, her life. I don't like my Tiuds to be forgotten...ever.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">For the past months, her facebook page is where we all meet -- our batchmates and her different circles of friends and we find comfort in her and in each other. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Here are some of interesting posts on her wall:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: normal; font-size:13px;"><span class="UIIntentionalStory_Names" ft="{"type":"name"}" style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); "><a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=718844718" hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=718844718" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; font-weight: bold; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Nina Kristine Ona Dello</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"> </span></span></span><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">hi tiudy.. i dreamt of you last night... please guide and pray for us. love you!! =)</span></span></span></h3><div><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: normal; font-size:13px;"><span class="UIIntentionalStory_Names" ft="{"type":"name"}" style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); "><a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=792764888" hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=792764888" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; font-weight: bold; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Pau Perez</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"> </span></span></span><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">mama kat =) malapit na christmas namimiss na nila tinitinda mong bags =) mwah love u</span></span></span></h3><div><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: normal; font-size:13px;"><span class="UIIntentionalStory_Names" ft="{"type":"name"}" style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); "><a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=527900096" hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=527900096" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; font-weight: bold; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Dyan Cruz</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"> </span></span></span><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">katchu... guide me naman o...</span></span></span></h3><div><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: normal; font-size:13px;"><span class="UIIntentionalStory_Names" ft="{"type":"name"}" style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); "><a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1016086978" hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=1016086978" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; font-weight: bold; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Kb Contreras</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"> </span></span></span><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">i miss u tiuds.... I need you ngaun... Paki sbe nmn sa bossing natn jan sa taas... Alalay sakin ng konti... Thanks tiuds...</span></span></span></h3><div><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: normal; font-size:13px;"><span class="UIIntentionalStory_Names" ft="{"type":"name"}" style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); "><a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=649071823" hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=649071823" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; font-weight: bold; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Miguel Vargas</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"> </span></span></span><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Ate Kat alam mo naman malaki natulong mo sakin, maraming salamat.. Naka Close rin ako isa ulit wit Ate April.. I hope ur doin great dyaan sa Heaven=)</span></span></span></h3><div><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: normal; font-size:13px;"><span class="UIIntentionalStory_Names" ft="{"type":"name"}" style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); "><a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=651907116" hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=651907116" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; font-weight: bold; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Ems Gonzales</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"> </span></span></span><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">ei tiudy! nakita kita sa "keep in touch" ko. musta ka naman dyan, ganda? balitaan mo ko ha. mwah!;p</span></span></span></h3><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; "><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: normal; "><span class="UIIntentionalStory_Names" ft="{"type":"name"}" style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); "><a href="http://www.facebook.com/corinnejavier" hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=606277040" style="cursor: pointer; color: rgb(59, 89, 152); text-decoration: none; font-weight: bold; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Corinne Javier</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">tiubby....akala ko ok na ko. pero kanina, nung nadaanan namin yung harbour square, soooobrang nalungkot ako at pinigil kong maiyak, tinext ko nga agad si karl. dun tayo huling nag gimik na lahat. i soooooo miss you :(</span></span></h3></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, serif;"><br /></span></span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Great posts right? Tiudy is our angel in heaven and a lot of times when I pray to God, I talk to her afterwards. I've started a </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Dear Tiudy</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"> diary, where I tell her everything, my deepest fears, my high moments, and just make small talk. I'd like to imagine she's just listening, laughing her heart out, probably saying "Para kang tanga Alina."</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Recently, I prayed and I told her 'Tiuds, miss na kita, paramdam ka naman." And she did, that same night. Again, nagpakita siya sa dreams ko. In the dream, we were wearing our St. Paul uniforms and we were shopping in a huge grocery (we always are shopping in our dreams, the last time we were in a huge accessories department store). I was talking to her and we were catching up. I don't remember exactly what we were talking about but in the dream, she told me I was the only one who could see her. So the other shoppers and grocery staff were looking at me weirdly. We bought a lot of things, mostly junkfood -- potato chips and for some reason, cereals!? I don't know why!</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Today, I opened my yahoo messenger and I saw her name on my friends' list.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I sent her a message: "Miss na kita sobra."</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">It said:</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Kathrina Tiudy appears to be offline.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">He or she will receive your messages after signing in. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">But of course yahoo's wrong. She doesn't have to sign in to know. </span></span></span></div></div></div></div></div></span></div><div><br /></div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-6237227353184494692010-10-21T03:35:00.000-07:002010-10-21T03:48:32.520-07:00Sisters<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLUyllD2AKcWBx1BnEv3HeOuWvwapjWuq4CCcYl5pqIzv5mtvAeRctRNQxO64A7l7TtlR-nY3jf41FjGxEdLB9TqrcRPAjPIeJzICdGEW1qcieKZTpy_xhVgYA43SXjxa1vGmZ1vczMioa/s1600/ate+and+me.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLUyllD2AKcWBx1BnEv3HeOuWvwapjWuq4CCcYl5pqIzv5mtvAeRctRNQxO64A7l7TtlR-nY3jf41FjGxEdLB9TqrcRPAjPIeJzICdGEW1qcieKZTpy_xhVgYA43SXjxa1vGmZ1vczMioa/s320/ate+and+me.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530448750143910210" /></a><br /><div>My sister and I are as different as chalk and cheese.</div><div><br /></div><div>She's boyish and sporty, I'm kind of allergic to sports and girly. </div><div><br /></div><div>She's a Food Technology degree holder and a resident doctor, while I'm a Film graduate taking up my masteral in communication.</div><div><br /></div><div>One of her hobbies is teasing me about my clothes and bags and I often pester her to start wearing a dress or at least to put her legs to good use since she's long-legged.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm bookish, while she's not the academic type.</div><div><br /></div><div>She's tall and morena, I'm short and fair-skinned.</div><div><br /></div><div>I realize now we have absolutely nothing in common. But despite all these, it amazes that we are still very close. </div><div><br /></div><div>I remember I cried when she was about to move to an apartment in QC for her studies. I missed her so much that time. I got used to talking to her every night, just pouring my heart out and updating her on tsismis and the latest about my friends.</div><div><br /></div><div>Some people don't know that my sister has a high IQ, higher than most people. She rarely studies because she kind of absorbs everything during lectures. She graduated at the top of her class in FEU Medicine. That she's a loving daughter and sister. That when we were kids, she had always protected me. Always the big sister who looks out for her li'l sis. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm very proud of my Ate Mayette. </div><div><br /></div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-19105409192442515772010-10-19T11:35:00.000-07:002010-10-19T11:49:46.395-07:00My Ultimate Crush: Paolo Soler<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDZIQirrNStpFVOtdNbuhUrLcBWSMf4XYHrS0xymFB1-ly0q9MUOKaWE5FiZyHJ-knvZGpuN1zUmCqgjo4s84KB8N3rRlt0hzPbTlPkQTkZ4ioN142wt_jalDa0v2lLvL3intK4jrh_81N/s1600/5360922.22boating_paolo.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDZIQirrNStpFVOtdNbuhUrLcBWSMf4XYHrS0xymFB1-ly0q9MUOKaWE5FiZyHJ-knvZGpuN1zUmCqgjo4s84KB8N3rRlt0hzPbTlPkQTkZ4ioN142wt_jalDa0v2lLvL3intK4jrh_81N/s320/5360922.22boating_paolo.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529829713256754882" /></a><div>Pre-Ondoy, I used to have this small magazine picture of Paolo Soler pasted on my cabinet. He is my ultimate Filipino celebrity crush.</div><div><br /></div><div>I think I started fantasizing about him since his Coca-cola commercial way back in....shit, I don't remember when. I must have been in grade school. Hehe! (I wish there's a Youtube copy of this commercial, wala eh.)</div><div><br /></div><div>He had shorter hair then. But now it's long and curly...I like! He's such a hunk, this Paolo guy. I heard he's the president of a surfing academy now, which means he has a great tan and a hot body (a long sigh...)</div><div><br /></div><div>I've been around in showbiz circles for the past years because of my job, but sadly, I haven't met him personally yet. Kelan kaya? Friends, if you know him, introduce me please!</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not really into sports but for this guy, really, I'd risk drowning in the deep blue sea...:-)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilYhS093Qqw2B3d_Psz9wpXSW75uhdprUlIvX5K1bEYzSN0cDddGHaMvB2Yveer_wWcApWiY5lEnj2vFGkDTUacjeZ6Iz2kIgfDtNgSo0rPTGtcbVktRmnxKB8qVjPqRGxo_Mlzk5dpP8M/s1600/lif8hires.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilYhS093Qqw2B3d_Psz9wpXSW75uhdprUlIvX5K1bEYzSN0cDddGHaMvB2Yveer_wWcApWiY5lEnj2vFGkDTUacjeZ6Iz2kIgfDtNgSo0rPTGtcbVktRmnxKB8qVjPqRGxo_Mlzk5dpP8M/s320/lif8hires.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529830078786007634" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 294px; " /></a></div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-79005151243119366752010-10-11T10:22:00.000-07:002010-10-11T10:37:01.276-07:00Have That Sassy Solitary Style<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeXPKa3An8j7xSCVR09Evyc2o6OUs754ZRk-xKgMpSHF_KS2pJUsin7AMIf7dU2fBMHT7kfLPc7UESTILw0apNC-cwtWOdrZs0tIZtX3djktbz0TO-UVncfGK99N_arJHcJeLzFLyfptr2/s1600/sassy.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 241px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeXPKa3An8j7xSCVR09Evyc2o6OUs754ZRk-xKgMpSHF_KS2pJUsin7AMIf7dU2fBMHT7kfLPc7UESTILw0apNC-cwtWOdrZs0tIZtX3djktbz0TO-UVncfGK99N_arJHcJeLzFLyfptr2/s320/sassy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526840566509753698" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">(published in wmn.ph, QTV Channel 11's online community; click on this </span></span></span><a href="http://www.wmn.ph/article/2018/have-that-sassy-solitary-style"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">link</span></span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;"> to read article in the site)</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">You’re never lonely when you can have fun alone.<br /><br /></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">By Maria Alina R. Co</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />Remember </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Bridget Jones’ Diary</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> and the all too unforgettable scene when Bridget spends the night home and sings “All by Myself"? That scene was hilarious, right?<br /><br />But given a different context (she was, after all, depressed), is it really that unpleasant to be “all by yourself?"</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); line-height: normal; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWcgxih8pDYLH7HzVSeYlmE4M3Ga-nhxiex2KbXsysqRkpjA4EpntppCzuhZXEI7cJ9Np_SbTPofiLS8hzU1H5oltdr8j9n0iHcJVaeCeahvI0W0N4nsfxyTRrCCIvJmiXZQdJFqGGS7OC/s320/bridget-jones.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526843447539552386" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 208px; " /></span><br />Why are some people agitated when they’re alone?<br /><br />Alone is not the same as being lonely.<br /><br />American author Henry David Thoreau said everything pretty much in a nutshell: “I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude."<br /><br />Based from experience, spending alone time is actually healthy and beneficial.<br /><br />Sounds cliche, but it’s the perfect time for you to get to know yourself better. Whenever I have to make that crucial decision, instead of drinking with friends, why not find some “me" time to think, reflect, refresh and rejuvenate? Especially for us female urbanites, city stress can wear us down. Spending “alone" time doesn’t have to be as expensive as globe-trotting, ala-</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Eat, Pray, Love. </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br /></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Travel alone to a new place</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br />Have you watched </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Under the Tuscan Sun</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">? Try reading Ann Tyler’s novel </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Back When We Were Grownups</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">. Both women traveled to a foreign place to find themselves. So why don’t you head of town, with that small backpack and a favorite book or two? Being a stranger in a foreign land can help you get to know yourself better.<br /><br /></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Soul-search in a hotel</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br />If you’re not up and ready to go out of town, book a hotel room, and bring your laptop or notebook. It’s time to relish a spic and span room and pamper your self with hotel amenities. Pick a unit that has a veranda overlooking the city. Believe me, the view works wonders. Then face your laptop or poise your pen on that blank paper and write away. You’ll be surprised at the thoughts that pour out when you’re just alone.<br /><br /></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Feel spectacular after a soup and spa</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br />After a grueling day at work, just let loose. A full body massage at Wensha Spa only costs P680.00, inclusive of food and drinks. Their specialty is the shabu-shabu. I don’t know about you, but a cup of steaming soup instantly takes away the blues-all the time.<br /><br /></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Try a new hobby/sport</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br />Sometimes routine work and school can get you down. I have a lot of friends who have great jobs but suddenly find themselves burned out. But I’ve also learned that pursuing a new hobby can save your job. A friend from a multinational bank was already bent on resigning, when she found passion for running. Exercise took away the boredom of an 8-5 desk job. I myself was at the brink of resigning from a TV Network as a supervisor (without a new job replacement) when I joined a voice-acting/dubbing workshop. I met new friends and I found new joy in my otherwise ho-hum job.<br /><br />There are a lot of hobbies you can pursue like blogging, photography, video editing, cooking, etc.<br /><br />So despite your hectic schedule, try to find some “alone time". It’s fun and refreshing to be alone, every now and then. And you bounce back better than ever to interact and face other people and life, basically.<br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></i></span></span></span><div><br /></div></div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-42997957418664846732010-10-03T04:19:00.000-07:002010-10-03T10:19:22.992-07:00A Walk in the Neighborhood<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigaFumow0ieAHR9MZ31DEEeFMPs-GMhXG4CcGDnXLVXgT5Tkf-LpxIjdWc8q1OYGrAlRJTIIninE4H3gKnAmc2Nzjj6lU7O3VHa6d_zucB4ym8WUcExsBN6k2kOBhrOrS-AdvfMS1CDqYv/s1600/palengke.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigaFumow0ieAHR9MZ31DEEeFMPs-GMhXG4CcGDnXLVXgT5Tkf-LpxIjdWc8q1OYGrAlRJTIIninE4H3gKnAmc2Nzjj6lU7O3VHa6d_zucB4ym8WUcExsBN6k2kOBhrOrS-AdvfMS1CDqYv/s320/palengke.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523790060910685858" /></a><div><br /></div><div>It's been some time since I've walked around the neighborhood and had the time and presence of mind to absorb and breathe things in.</div><div><br /></div><div>Of course, day in and day out in an 8- 5 job, I'd walk a good 10 minute-sprint from our house to the jeep/FX terminal. But because I am always, ALWAYS, running late, I barely have time to look around and observe.</div><div><br /></div><div>For fear of exposing where I exactly live, let's just say I live in lower grounds of Pasig, in a middle class neighborhood. Unlike private subdivisions, there are no guards that check the stream of vehicles and residents coming in. Any person is as free as a stray dog or a mother hen to stroll the streets for a leisurely walk or any other purpose.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today, my mom and I walk towards a nearby mall for just a bit of exercise and maybe, some shopping on the side. Along the way, I keep warning my mom of the dog poo on the street, as that definitely would have ruined our chances of being allowed into the mall. </div><div><br /></div><div>Our village's center is called a "<i>kanto</i>", a commercial place with a palengke, fruit stands, school supplies shop, parlors, a cloth alteration shop, some convenient stores, a bakery, an internet shop, lots of e-load stations, fish ball stands, a mobile <i>mami tayo</i>, selling hot noodle soup for just ten bucks -- everything a modern-day living Filipino needs to thrive and survive.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our <i>kanto </i>is the perfect epitome of the backward way a Filipino lives. Cars and vehicles double-parked on all sides, sidewalks supposedly for passersby on foot like us occupied and blocked by vendors of DVDs, fish, sandals and other assortment of odds and ends. A nearby tricycle terminal with overworked (and some over-drugged) drivers causes me to be cautious and nervous, not for me but for my mom. You can be too careful, but when you're not on a side walk, a tricycle, a motor or a car can just zoom by and hurt you. </div><div><br /></div><div>I hold my mom's hands firmly, guiding her carefully through the zig and zag of our market. For her, it's a jungle, an obstacle course with the bumps on the road, the man hole, the cracks on the floor where there is dark murky water, the smelly dirty side walks moistened by the friendly neighborhood butcher who throws a pail of reddish bloody water again and again. </div><div><br /></div><div>Our <i>kanto</i> is a melting pot of Filipino masa -- the pineapple vendor rumored to be a former ex-con, three gay parloristas, with blond hair streaked with white, betraying their age, hungrily watching out for the neigborhood hunks, who are also hoodlums just fresh from a basketball game, the resident loony called Jimbo, who was a former drug addict, infamously rumored to have drugged himself to insanity. Everyone has had a chance encounter with Jimbo with his incessant, "Miss, miss, pengeng piso." And of course, the sad mothers with their swollen bellies and their little tykes wrapped around their arms and even their legs, bawling for attention and some twenty pesos to buy some <i>tsitsiria</i> and a bottle of coca cola.</div><div><br /></div><div>We turn at the corner-- my mother and I-- and buy some sweet lanzones and bananas. The policeman winks at me and offers to hold the bags I was carrying so that my hand can be free to pick soft lanzones among the pile. The vendor narrates an amusing anecdote about these two elderly women who asks for two lanzones to check if they're sweet... "<i>Sabi nung ale, isa pa nga kumuha pa ng dalawa, tapos dalawa pa 'di tig-apat na sila. Hindi pa rin nakuntento, kumuha pa ng tigalawa." </i>The policeman exposes a toothy grin. <i>"Naknamputa, bumili nga, one-fourth lang ang binili, sabi ko naisahan ako nitong dalawang to ha!" </i>At this point, the policeman chuckles loudly. I smile back at them to show I was also amused.</div><div><br /></div><div>As we step inside the mall, an air-conditioned, brightly-lit market, filled with stores, boutiques, tiangges, food booths and restaurants, I feel a mixture of relief and sadness. I don't understand why, but for some reason, looking at all that circus of a mall, with the neon signs, 50% discounts, arcades, a girl belting out a Sarah Geronimo in a videoke booth, french fries, long lines in the Lotto stand, and the song and dance show at the recreational stage area, I suddenly feel confused. It seems fake, even artificial, and the raw albeit dangerous <i>kanto</i> seemed more real and genuine to me. </div><div><br /></div><div>My mom buys a cork board and a discounted paperback novel. I nudge her arm, "<i>Ma, tara lakad tayo ulit sa labas.</i>"</div><div><br /></div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-82532471602549113802010-09-25T11:02:00.000-07:002011-10-06T20:28:46.316-07:00More than 5 years, But Still Head over Heels<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9uToFEztTXJKOLlw6T1VwOg399Y6QJBMD1OdnnKbOqi7Yry_GtrXC2GDuKScIpnIMCqlPH1TSPnWHTfiFSsdgluXvQ21EbS2Ktmg0XXUxdu4VqTr26cpDA1Jbws2koMHB-mP4uHYLnt9P/s1600/DSC03399.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0b-rOs6VqTlnBw5jTHf5heZTM6lAqMT7jsYx5Y_ko1MJjJ33nRqAFU-lL7EzjkWtEPEGKzaGY_mCXdo5k2cezxduGg1dQZMGH3hNGXQWhyjS_o47V1Um1Pn5SCLbotrjh5DWphWHIQDAs/s1600/alisam_potochuva.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0b-rOs6VqTlnBw5jTHf5heZTM6lAqMT7jsYx5Y_ko1MJjJ33nRqAFU-lL7EzjkWtEPEGKzaGY_mCXdo5k2cezxduGg1dQZMGH3hNGXQWhyjS_o47V1Um1Pn5SCLbotrjh5DWphWHIQDAs/s320/alisam_potochuva.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520914116049467410" /></a><div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I remember my Photography professor shared an amusing and a bit mushy anecdote about how he realized, "This is it, I'm not only <i>in</i> love, but I deeply, wholly love this girl..she's the one." For my professor, it was all thanks to onions. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>He was chopping onions to cook dinner for his girlfriend, admitting he was trying to impress this girl even though he had never cooked all his life. While chopping religiously, his eyes began to water. It didn't take long for his vision to blur as one tear followed after another. My professor began to sniff. While rubbing his eyes, his girlfriend gently removed his hand and dabbed a handkerchief to wipe his tears. The girl whispered, giggling, "Tahan na." It was then, at that moment, he knew this girl was the one he'd love for the rest of his life.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I never forgot that story. More than amused, I was touched. When you realize you are truly in love, it's always not in a grandiose, obvious way. No candle-lit dinners and parading under the stars. No dancing on a rooftop and a room full of roses. Or an orchestra playing your favorite song while you dine in fancy restaurant. I've always believed in those kinds of moments -- small ones that are unexpected, understated and yet, magical. Trust me, I'm not a hopeless romantic, but a realistic, keep-my-feet-on-the-ground kind of girl.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>For me, it happened one night in 2009 during the U.P. Fair. Every year, my boyfriend and I made it a point to attend the fair, even just for one day. That week, I was suffering a recurring back ache due to so much stress at work. But to hell with my back ache, nothing could stop me from going! There's the sunken garden grass to lie on anyway. But two bands into the fair, my back ached so much I could even feel the throb when I'm lying down or leaning on Sam's back. Sam wanted to go to the hospital, but I insisted just a bed rest will do. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>That night, I slept over at his house that was near UP. My back ache was far from leaving me alone. It was too painful I had to stifle my cries -- "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">Hindi ko to kaya<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">." Sam lied down beside me and massaged my back, using cantor oil to relieve the pain. His mouth on my ear, he shushed me, whispering over and over, "</span>I'm just here, baby<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">." He massaged and soothed me for hours until finally, the pain was gone and I fell asleep.</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I was blinded and numbed by so much pain that night. But there was that short moment, a fraction of a minute, that I saw myself with him for the rest of my life. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Earlier today, Sam and I went to the mall to watch a movie, shop, and eat. I'm not as conscious as before of how I acted when I'm with him. But mostly, I remember feeling happy. And the details I often forget. Today, Sam said something amusing:</div><div><br /></div><div>Sam: <i>"Bakit ganito tayo no?"</i></div><div>Alina: <i>"Paanong ganito? Pano ba tayo?"</i></div><div>Sam: <i>"Wala, ang sweet pa rin natin, para tayong bagong magsyota."</i></div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know for others who are in a five-year relationship, but Sam actually has a point. A good, happy point. Again, at that moment, I felt the hair at the nape of my neck tingle, and my chest filled with....I don't know, something like air, with a hundred butterfly wings flapping.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's amazing how we've been together for more than five years, but we're still head over heels.</div><div><br /></div><div>To the love of my life Sam (you might never read this as you never read my blog (I know how much you dislike blogs), but I just want to put on record...that I love you so much. Never doubt that.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9uToFEztTXJKOLlw6T1VwOg399Y6QJBMD1OdnnKbOqi7Yry_GtrXC2GDuKScIpnIMCqlPH1TSPnWHTfiFSsdgluXvQ21EbS2Ktmg0XXUxdu4VqTr26cpDA1Jbws2koMHB-mP4uHYLnt9P/s320/DSC03399.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520926296826310114" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /></span></div><div><br /></div></div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-68878835059082506812010-09-19T11:17:00.000-07:002010-09-23T21:02:05.549-07:00Watch Behind the Bylines on Star World<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6LQlB4HGo4UPpMnw1aXv-7ldXFazreT7K3e159LpuOjVgmMwgQ4UTTTbI0aLPJ1ni1CqwYdyuj-cFiP6KtStC8R0PXnKbGcMTyLXtiF9yenkYP13iCzjE-jD0keHrzHisqgdXgRIxouT6/s1600/starworld+logo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 186px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6LQlB4HGo4UPpMnw1aXv-7ldXFazreT7K3e159LpuOjVgmMwgQ4UTTTbI0aLPJ1ni1CqwYdyuj-cFiP6KtStC8R0PXnKbGcMTyLXtiF9yenkYP13iCzjE-jD0keHrzHisqgdXgRIxouT6/s200/starworld+logo.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518704996874425522" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div>Know what goes on behind the scenes in the number one fashion magazine in the Philippines! A reality show, BTBL features a day in a life of a Preview magazine editor to give you a taste of what working on the monthly gloss is really like. </div><div><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzvkgToJCOsmGDvOE-nNE2tKs4OFJQ_4aclV_XpsPR0LPNC1VWDTxj5yFPtvj6-4iihWemEEQnYgQ4Fb7VAfw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Behind the Bylines Opening Credits/OBB (this will be revised soon to include Daryl Chang, Liz Uy and Raymond Gutierrez)</span></i></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.philstar.com/Article.aspx?articleId=611299&publicationSubCategoryId=70">Behind the Bylines</a> is the first ever local show based in the Philippines, produced by Fox International. Catch Behind the Bylines only on Star World, Tuesdays, at 8: 50 PM, every 2nd and 4th week of the month.</div><div><br /></div><div>Don't miss the quirky episodes airing this October featuring Manila's finest stylista Daryl Chang!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Behind the Bylines Credits:</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Head of Programming:</div><div><b>JOON LEE</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Channel Head (Star World):</div><div><b>Eddy Tan</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Territory Director:</div><div><b>JUDE TURCUATO</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Marketing Manager for Entertainment:</div><div><b>CHARO ESPEDIDO</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Producers:</div><div><b>RAIN BALARES</b></div><div><b>ALINA CO</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Director of Photography:</div><div><b>ADJANI ARUMPAC</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Designer:</div><div><b>ANDRE MEDINA</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Post- Production Editor:</div><div><b>ALAN NONES</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Cameraman:</div><div><b>RYAN VERGEL DE DIOS</b></div><div><br /></div><div>PREVIEW:</div><div><br /></div><div>Editor-in Chief:</div><div><b>PAULINE SUACO-JUAN</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Creative Director:</div><div><b>VINCE UY</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Editorial Assistant, Special Projects:</div><div><b>ELOISE ALBA</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Deputy Art Director, Special Projects:</div><div><b>EUGENE DAVID</b></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-53812261321268377712010-09-05T11:39:00.000-07:002010-09-19T11:06:11.194-07:00THE VOICE LIFE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrvvOZf-0X-pHrUvx1aaPLW2ZtcCq7ZHRBlihQW2boqIQBmuzh-sgqOtx7UiECLW_A3sDwGymHYQzhc_yazLzppyLZE_kMiCXLsPjimkwqkRSoDqH2KRyME7rYK-FEXJ5pXmkTa4Y3D1Z/s1600/microphone.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrvvOZf-0X-pHrUvx1aaPLW2ZtcCq7ZHRBlihQW2boqIQBmuzh-sgqOtx7UiECLW_A3sDwGymHYQzhc_yazLzppyLZE_kMiCXLsPjimkwqkRSoDqH2KRyME7rYK-FEXJ5pXmkTa4Y3D1Z/s320/microphone.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513507485424949458" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /><div>When I started imitating commercials (especially taglines) when I was seven or maybe eight years old, my mom eagerly predicted: my daughter's going to be a news reporter or broadcaster some day.</div><div><br /></div><div>But then, several years of acting in plays and joining declamations later, I found that speaking in public made me nervous! Never mind the plays, I was never a nervous performer (I had the knack of blocking the audience out when I performed. I also had a band in college), but addressing an audience was altogether a different thing, </div><div><br /></div><div>So yeah, several years later, my mom found that her oracle was not the best one.</div><div><br /></div><div>Instead of taking up Broadcasting, I got lost into and fell in love with Film and Audio-Visual Production, which is more of behind-the-scenes. </div><div><br /></div><div>After graduation and years of working, I never knew my hobby as a child of faking accents and repeating commercial taglines would resurface. Until I found I can do voice-overs.</div><div><br /></div><div>I guess I owe it to making plugs and observing professional VO talents during my first job. I liked imitating them for fun. Eventually, when our talent could not make it, while I did have to beat a deadline, I had no choice but to do a dummy. Kind of like a voice guide.</div><div><br /></div><div>Until a client (a sponsor) asked our team to do a TVC. But they can't afford to pay for a VO talent. The client was a well-known motel. My co-Producer asked our superior if my voice will do. He said, well, let's see. </div><div><br /></div><div>Fortunately, my voice-over passed. Credit it to a "bedroom voice". Hehe!</div><div><br /></div><div>I eventually forgot about that. But my interest came back when an office mate told me of a VOICE ACTING WORKSHOP, called VoiceWorx in Creativoices Productions.</div><div><br /></div><div>I enrolled. Though the tuition caused me almost all of my savings, I can say that it was all worth it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have since earned back the tuition...and more.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today, I have gained the confidence that I need to be a good voice over for commercials. I enjoy doing voice overs so much! I feel challenged by every word, pause, every intonation, breath and every syllable.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I voice, I'm just playing. I like expressing myself through my voice and hearing it on TV or the radio.</div><div><br /></div><div>Without my hobby as a child, encouragement from former officemates and Creativoices, I wouldn't have done it.</div><div><br /></div><div>But it can never be my full-time job. Voice over always has to be a part-time job, that I learned in VoiceWorx.</div><div><br /></div><div>And yes, I guess it helps a lot that whenever I voice, I get to be an eight-year old all over again.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><i> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Maria Alina Co is currently a voice-over talent of Knowledge Channel and Star World Philippines. She also does freelance voice work for other companies. </span></i></div></div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-46976711693688764702010-06-07T06:39:00.000-07:002010-09-05T12:12:31.905-07:00The Invisible Sisters of Manila<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdAyBz61UrC6k39TJrRfcUtkzmPka8zGgGDOE0KjHyQmZf98M0zTaqyO1ibqI5e8Bh-4W0GrI1gKMBDRWjKNznwX8gEYrvjvjGY4MVxbUmGa7Sbe0_szBPZ5Yn1DBEw7_WRKVlTv7lw-x1/s1600/three+women+crocheting+bags.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdAyBz61UrC6k39TJrRfcUtkzmPka8zGgGDOE0KjHyQmZf98M0zTaqyO1ibqI5e8Bh-4W0GrI1gKMBDRWjKNznwX8gEYrvjvjGY4MVxbUmGa7Sbe0_szBPZ5Yn1DBEw7_WRKVlTv7lw-x1/s320/three+women+crocheting+bags.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480027561632615698" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Word polaroids by Maria Alina Co</span></span><br /><br />Blue, pink, yellow, and green splashed my eyes. The monobloc table-turned merchandising display setup at the Lopez Memorial Museum was abloom with crocheted bags and wallets of various colors and designs. Body bags were at the left side, some with striped patterns, embellished with a flower accessory or two. Two women were rearranging stacks of pouches of all shapes and sizes. A black, shiny wrist bag caught my eye. Despite the great diversity of color and style, the bags had two things in common. One, they all carried the brand “Invisible Sisters,” and two, they were all made from recovered and recycled trash. <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="">Yes, trash, or garbage if you prefer.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="">Visitors and customers like me would always do a double-take after being told the exquisite bags were made of </span><span style="">discarded </span><span style=""><em>palengke </em>plastic bags. A meticulous middle-aged female customer fiddled with the crocheted bags. “You mean this is not string or yarn?” she asked incredulously.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="">“Opo, Ma’am, plastic po ‘yan,” </span></em><span style="">Ate Rica, the leader of the group, promptly answered.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><strong><span style="">The Invisible Sisters</span></strong></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="">The plastic bags are collected and made into bags by a group of urban poor women – all mothers and grandmothers – called the Invisible Sisters. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="">“May nakapagsabi sa’kin, yung kumare ko, na may ganitong grupo. Marunong naman ako mag-crochet dati pa eh. Sumali ako doon sa workshop ni Ma’am Rica,”</span></em><span style=""> Josie Tolentino, 51 years old, said as she recalled how she became an Invisible Sister.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="">The Invisible Sisters is the brainchild of American environmental artist Ann Wizer. </span> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="">"I began in my house in Manila in late August 2008. I wanted to create a second livelihood project that also reuses waste, while creating jobs in the process. Learning from lessons of my <strong>Jakarta XSProject</strong>, I wanted something simple and easy to replicate.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="">Wizer’s recycling project in Jakarta was hugely successful. Trash-pickers from slums shredded foil packs from junk food packages. The strips of trash were used to plump up and embellish functional furniture such as sala sets and executive chairs. The project yielded income for the poor women and at the same time, reused and recycled tons of trash polluting the slums of Jakarta, Indonesia. The installation entitled <em>High Chair </em>currently on exhibit at the Lopez Memorial Museum is one such product of the trash-pickers, Ann Wizer, and the furniture-makers that Wizer hired.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="">In the Philippines, Wizer decided crocheting would be a more viable idea. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="">“I asked the Filipinos I knew if any one knew how to crochet. All I got were blank stares, but it didn't matter: we started in my garage with a pile of colored wires from computers, used dry cleaner bags, and the supply of old plastic bags."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="">With the help of her cook Rica Galgao, who eventually became the project coordinator, Wizer was able to jumpstart the project. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="">“<em>Nagtanong-tanong kami ni Ma’am Ann sa mga foundation ng mga kababaihan dito sa Maynila. Nagsimula kami sa isa, hanggang sa dumami na nang dumami,</em>” Rica recalled their start-up days. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="">Galgao was the first to learn how to crochet plastic bags. She invited and trained women, while Wizer helped in the designs and marketed the bags locally and abroad. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="">Today, the <a href="http://www.invisiblesisters.org/">Invisible Sisters</a> has over 200 mothers and grandmothers crocheting for income. Between them, they have over 500 children and an even more staggering number of grandchildren, most of whom have no regular income. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><strong><span style="">Empowering women</span></strong></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><strong></strong></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjWOnnG9fQuugqNRQM1xj2NiTPU0_88siI6lD5jPYuuFjiYt6_2toUk5VtW2sAzwYGk0A8YWjgLTJqW4LWFxiY_nkdSeTp5qXl9Zs4uF5JqJR8NXJNmSB-rq-f1C2AYOo0n0o8DNY_UIpT/s1600/DSC02976.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjWOnnG9fQuugqNRQM1xj2NiTPU0_88siI6lD5jPYuuFjiYt6_2toUk5VtW2sAzwYGk0A8YWjgLTJqW4LWFxiY_nkdSeTp5qXl9Zs4uF5JqJR8NXJNmSB-rq-f1C2AYOo0n0o8DNY_UIpT/s320/DSC02976.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480029433228785586" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="">Fifty-one-year-old Josie Tolentino or Aling Josie was a Management graduate but got married at a young age. She never worked all her life, being a full-time housewife to her husband and four children, the youngest being only nine years old. She relied on her husband’s income until she became an Invisible Sister.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><em><span style="">“Malaking tulong na din po sa amin. Lalo na kapag istambay lang kami sa bahay. Pagkatapos kong magluto at maglinis, wala na akong ginagawa. Kaya malaking bagay talaga.”</span></em></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><em><span style=""> </span></em></p> <span style="">Aling Josie is one of the fastest and most skilled bag-makers in her group. On the average... ( to read the rest of the article, kindly click on this<a href="http://www.thepoc.net/thepoc-features/buhay-pinoy/mga-bayaning-di-bongga/7314-saving-the-environment-one-stitch-at-a-time.html"> link</a>)</span>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-4791871881077090072010-05-25T06:25:00.000-07:002010-09-19T11:16:57.842-07:00CrossroadsYet again, I meet a cross road.<br /><br />I don't want to actually call it a dilemma. The word sounds negative to me. I guess it's one of those times I need to think, re-think and make a sound and intelligent decision.<br /><br />I'm one of those lucky ones who have a parents and a kind-hearted brother who fully support me. Those times when I was in despair and sorrow in a previous job (and tried my best to endure and keep silent, afraid to disappoint my family should I ever decide to quit), my brother literally rescued me.<br /><br />We were in a plane on our way home from Boracay, when Kuya Ariel talked to me. He said he noticed how unhappy I was. And that if I resign, it was okay for him. He knew I was planning to take Post-Graduate studies ever since I started working (unfortunately, my load at work made studying impossible) so he gave me an offer I could not refuse: he will fund my Masteral studies. I knew my brother just wanted me to be happy and alive again. I thought about it and finally decided to give it a go.<br /><br />But then, Ondoy destroyed our home.<br /><br />The sight of our tattered house, our appliances and furniture soaked to the brim, mud water trickling from our ceiling were enough to turn my head three-hundred-sixty degrees. Those two days when our home was submerged in mud water, we wept-- my sister, my mother, my brothers and I. We couldn't believe it happened to us.<br /><br />So I deferred my studies and without informing my family, I scouted for work. I was lucky I got two job interviews the week after Ondoy and both companies hired me. But I chose, of course, the one which was closer to home, located in Ortigas.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH_vhrJeLpH3vSelsDQSXigulS1xVV9gNbUVb0PvGBFQvLzlsGvQglh_b57f8EZqdtcBw-4Hth7qZzTmiBY131yimKPEOsdYAh4ummHwVUD2gNrypmotQS5ZUEw7PZ62MfRu-FJvbU9xFG/s1600/alina.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH_vhrJeLpH3vSelsDQSXigulS1xVV9gNbUVb0PvGBFQvLzlsGvQglh_b57f8EZqdtcBw-4Hth7qZzTmiBY131yimKPEOsdYAh4ummHwVUD2gNrypmotQS5ZUEw7PZ62MfRu-FJvbU9xFG/s320/alina.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475208768456255026" border="0" /></a><br /><br />For this, I have no regrets. Even though my brother was disappointed. On my fulfillment with work, I would have to devote another blog entry. :-)<br /><br />June is fast approaching and I find myself in another crossroad. My brother hoped my KCh. stint was just a summer-long deal. He brought it up again:" <span style="font-style: italic;">study full time first, you're not getting any younger."</span><br /><br />It's a privilege that I have. As my Mommy said, any girl, any person, would grab the opportunity to study full-time, with a full allowance.<br /><br />But right then, I paused. I thought it over, toyed with the idea.<br /><br />I remembered my Mom. How she worked full time in radio parts factory just to finance her education, studying journalism in UST. How she nodded her head during classes, exhausted from overtime work. How she scrimped on her allowance so she can take more units in school. How she worked for 35 years in a simple office in a state university, because she was aware she needed stability to raise us -- a brood of 6.<br /><br />My mom-- she has sacrificed so much in her life, just so me and my brothers and sister could live a good life. Without her, I would not have the privilege that I have now.<br /><br />But would I be a brat and take it? Or would I rather be like my mother, who, forty plus years ago, rode jeepneys and broke a sweat, read piles of books and hand outs at past 12 m.n. and woke up at 6 a.m.?<br /><br />I wish I can explain this to Kuya Ariel, who would surely scratch his head in confusion.<br /><br />I wish there was a way to tell him what kind of woman I want to be, and am becoming.<br /><br /><i><br /></i>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-70471634762109556952010-05-25T05:58:00.000-07:002010-05-25T06:10:54.986-07:00I miss blogging!Ever since we moved out of our old house and since I've temporarily bid our wi-fi connection goodbye, it hasn't been the same between BLOGGING and me.<br /><br />I guess we're undergoing a sort of cool-off. Yes, just like high school sweet hearts. So, yeah, until our house is fully renovated, I would have to make do with our mediocre Sun Cellular broadband connection. That means waiting forever to open my email, reading the newspaper or cleaning my nails while waiting for Facebook pictures and comments to load. And of course, lying low with my internet bestfriend -- www.blogspot.com.<br /><br />There are so many things I've been raring to write about. I've been meaning to write about Tiu Dy, my work in the Knowledge Channel, the perks of meeting people in Masteral class, my niece Andeng and her smart, naughty ways (and oh-- how she can talk now! At less than 3 years, she can speak in complete sentences already!), about Eve Ensler's books, Sonya's Garden in Tagaytay. Bancheta in Ortigas, etcetera, etcetera.<br /><br />So, baby, blogger, soon....I shall write....very, very soon!Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-71504779942336710632010-05-13T08:35:00.000-07:002010-09-05T12:13:17.801-07:00Sweet-toothed summer: iskrambol, ice candy & other thirst busters<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufXpg2oJn9iuaPmWLpi-3BRL7bd5ShahAY6ZV3bXv3N_z7p_B7I_QFHR9KQYUbwvaphIcnjBEiDTgZf6GuTUhy56Tuf-j__zrNjMqRw5N09wlndRkkwsAM_Ra5D-oIZZ9augEcMoTQASJ/s1600/ice_candy_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufXpg2oJn9iuaPmWLpi-3BRL7bd5ShahAY6ZV3bXv3N_z7p_B7I_QFHR9KQYUbwvaphIcnjBEiDTgZf6GuTUhy56Tuf-j__zrNjMqRw5N09wlndRkkwsAM_Ra5D-oIZZ9augEcMoTQASJ/s320/ice_candy_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470782772711826514" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />So you placed two electric fans side by side, turned them full blast, and yet you still felt beads of sweat trickling down your face and neck. You tried to catch <em>siesta </em>to sleep the afternoon away, but all you succeeded at was to take cat naps as you are wakened again and again by a – gasp! – thirst that couldn’t be quenched. You end up with a headache as unrelenting as the furious sun. <p>You remembered the PAGASA public advisory to stock up on sun block and lots of water to get ready for the summer heat that has just registered its highest, at 36 degrees Celsius (as of April 6). But after drinking a pitcherful, water had become so blah and bland and boring you could just barf.</p><p></p><p>So you quit trying to sleep and get up to get out and go for something more exciting in summer "samalamig."</p> Just the thought alone of the glasses of summer coolers awaiting you just outside your home made your head a bit clearer and your soul less oppressed.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsvyhq0nTYdxutFmaDf8j_Ix24AtVOU65LYJmLZCvDnL_iVPJ_2hLgMsRT7UeGg6vxg9W_YEvvRKCTr9vgKo9mihZqroWdcJllkuWcfaxzm41bzCEKbhwsqMBMdtkSiQPUtvWmJ-ok7wg/s1600/halohalonanay.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOsvyhq0nTYdxutFmaDf8j_Ix24AtVOU65LYJmLZCvDnL_iVPJ_2hLgMsRT7UeGg6vxg9W_YEvvRKCTr9vgKo9mihZqroWdcJllkuWcfaxzm41bzCEKbhwsqMBMdtkSiQPUtvWmJ-ok7wg/s320/halohalonanay.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470781225535420402" border="0" /></a><br /><p>This is exactly what I did last weekend – dabbed sun block, grabbed an umbrella and rounded up the best <em>palamig</em> in town.</p> <p><strong>Halo-halo ni Nanay</strong></p> <p>Think summer cooler and you cannot but think of halo-halo. You and I have our own favorite halo-halo. It seems to be a toss-up between Chow King and Digman's. But there are those who would swear by Aling Taleng's halo-halo in Pagsanjan, Laguna that Metro Manilans make <em>dayo</em> for, because it had halo hard to find: <em>buwa ng niyog</em> and crisp dried <em>kondol</em>. Priceless!</p> <p>But why go the distance and shell out more pesos when just a block away, rght in your neighborhood, there’s a halo-halo stand?</p> <p>On Ilang-ilang Street, in our barangay in Pasig, Nanay Rosa yearly opens her halo-halo store soon as the schools are out. She offers a very good deal. Bring your own container, no matter what size, and she’ll fill it up. But since I forgot to bring my tall Selecta pint container, which I recycled as a glass at home, I had to make do with an ordinary plastic cup. Nanay Rosa spooned sago, gulaman, sweetened banana, langka, pinipig and melon strips into it, while her son quickly shaved ice. For just fifteen pesos, my halo-halo even had ube and leche flan. Sure, there was more ice than "halo," I guess it's par for the course with neighborhood halo-halo.<br /></p><p>But the halo-halo to beat is our own home-made mix-mix. Time was my Mom would stock up on bottled macapuno, sweet beans, kaong, nata de coco, and halayang ube. We could ask her to put a bit more of our favorite halo into our glass. She would often oblige on condition that we shaved our own ice. The nice thing about our halo-halo was that we could put as much milk into it as we wanted. The best thing about it, we could ask for a second glass (not always granted, though). The weird thing about it: my mom would sometimes put fresh fruits into it, like cayomito, ripe mango, guyabano, and avocado. Eww!</p><p><strong>Guinomis</strong><a class="highslide " href="http://www.thepoc.net/images/stories/buhay_pinoy/guinomis.jpg" onclick="'return"><img style="float: right;" alt="guinomis" src="http://www.thepoc.net/images/article_thumbnails/196x295-images-stories-buhay_pinoy-guinomis.jpg" height="295" width="196" /></a></p> <p>At Goto King in Libis, I ordered a glass of <a href="http://www.filipinovegetarianrecipe.com/desserts/guinomis_melon.php">guinomis</a>. I guess I spoke too loudly, for the elderly woman behind me at the counter asked her son, "What’s guinomis?" and the son answered, "Hindi ko po alam."</p> <p>Guinomis is in a sense a simpler version of halo-halo, still with the shaved ice on top, but with specific and fewer ingredients: sago (the tiny pearls), gulaman, and toasted pinipig. The caramelized sugar, sago and gulaman are cooked with pandan leaves. But what makes guinomis especially tasty is the gata (coconut cream) that takes the place of evaporada in halo-halo.</p> <p>The first time I tasted guinomis was in my freshman year in UP Diliman. At CASAA, a stall whose specialty was sizzlers sold guinomis as well. It was so good I went back again and again. Nowadays, when I eat out, I always look for guinomis on the dessert menu.</p> <p>The mother and son behind me, out of curiosity, ended up buying guinomis as well. I hope they were not as disappointed as I was: Goto King’s version had cornflakes instead of pinipig on top. And worst – that was no coconut milk they used as cream!</p><p>to read more of this article..log on to this <a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=3582937489711903168">site</a> Philippine Online Chronicles- Buhay Pinoy<br /><br /></p>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-32556965151181077012010-03-03T03:57:00.000-08:002010-03-03T04:07:06.310-08:00Ang Paglalaho ng Kayumangging Kaligatan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzCTNXqvlhfOSskivQPdkPZkktYV9S3mYekSkCZtdS69lD49Brenc8o4TDuj8EnzOZLlbbvX_6foRaTSotyTj1Bu8dLScO-6ImqZNn6yhNeuEpNyQnU_TKHdpQm40C-82WefLe3vSdH5AT/s1600-h/kayumanggi.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzCTNXqvlhfOSskivQPdkPZkktYV9S3mYekSkCZtdS69lD49Brenc8o4TDuj8EnzOZLlbbvX_6foRaTSotyTj1Bu8dLScO-6ImqZNn6yhNeuEpNyQnU_TKHdpQm40C-82WefLe3vSdH5AT/s400/kayumanggi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444377866718840066" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Kayumangging kaligatan. 'Yan ang kulay ng mayumi at magandang dalagang Pilipina. Hindi maputi, hindi maitim. Morena. </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://fil.wikipilipinas.org/index.php?title=Noli_me_tangere"> Kayumanggi si Maria Clara na minahal ni Crisostomo Ibarra at pinagnasaan ng Kastilaloy na si Padre Salvi (Noli Me Tangere).</a> <p style="font-family: arial;"><a href="http://pinoyexchange.com/forums/showthread.php?t=356567">Para sa mga banyagang puti, nakahahalina ang kayumangging Pilipina.</a> Patok na patok ang morenang Pinay at hinahabol at pinipilahan pag dumayo sila sa Amerika at Europa. Kaya nga siguro ang mga Amerikana ay medyo kwidaw kung bibisita ang mga esposo o nobyo nila sa 'Pinas. Sila naman ang nagpupumilit na maging kayumanggi. Nagbibilad sila sa araw. Kung hindi sila makapunta sa tabing-dagat upang magpakasunog ng balat, ginagawa nila ito sa loob ng bahay. Mayroon silang tinatawag na tanning lamp at tanning lotion.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;"><a href="http://pinoyexchange.com/forums/showthread.php?t=356567">Kung bakit ang binatang Pinoy, ang hinahangaan at sinusuyo ay 'yung mga maputi ang balat.</a> 'Tisay ang syota ko,' buong pagmamalaki nilang isisigaw upang marinig ng buong kapuluan. Marahil, nais din nilang maging maputi and kanilang magiging anak. O tingin nila ay puputi din sila sa pamamagitan ng prosesong osmosis.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;">Walang duda, impluwensya ito ng <em>westernization</em>. <em> The Americanization of the</em> Pinoy, wika nga. Salamat sa Hollywood, sinamba natin si Elizabeth Taylor, Ava Gardner, Rita Hayworth, Natalie Wood. Nagpatuloy ang ganitong idolatry sa henerasyon nila Drew Barrymore, Nicole Kidman, Jennifer Aniston, Scarlet Johanssen, at marami pang iba.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;">Dahil dito, ang naging batayan ng kagandahan ay ang nakakasilaw na balat, matarik na ilong, at bughaw o lavender o paiba-ibang kulay na mga mata. Chameleon eyes ang tawag dito. Dati-rati, hanggang buntong-hininga na lang at wishful thinking ang mga Pinay. Ngunit hindi na ngayon. Lahat 'yan magagawan ng paraan ng isang babaeng desididong magmukhang tisay at may pambili ng kaputian. May nose job dyan, blue contact lenses doon, at higit sa lahat mga<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skin_whitening"> skin whitening products </a>na naglipana doon, dito, at kung saan-saan.</p> <p style="font-family: arial;">Napansin ninyo ba? Wala nang kayumanggi ngayon sa atin. O nababawasan na. Malapit na bang maglaho ang ganitong kulay ng balat sa ating bansa?</p> <p style="font-family: arial;">Mabiling-mabili ang papaya whitening soap. Hindi mo mabilang ang mga brand. Likas Papaya, Silka, Extract, Mestiza. Oo, mestiza! Maraming kompanya ang naglabas ng kanilang whitening line -- Eskinol, Godiva, Block and White, Olay, Ponds, Belo at Gluta. Hindi lang sabon -- may losyon din at krema. Mayroon pa daw skin whitening placenta -- kaya daw pumuti ang balat ng dating morenang beauty queen na si <a href="http://fil.wikipilipinas.org/index.php?title=Melanie_Marquez">Melanie Marquez</a>.</p><p style="font-family: arial;">(to read more of my article, click on this <a href="http://www.thepoc.net/buhay-pinoy/buhay-pinoy-features/4337-ang-paglalaho-ng-kayumangging-kaligatan.html">link) </a><br /></p>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-57528364095422374862010-02-21T10:23:00.000-08:002010-09-05T12:14:37.793-07:00Published in wmn.ph: Vaginal Care 101<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE0OQ-TjJWydcsXnpLP6f1Ccnq9q2SWEErrucNKTHWgwJ8kCFh2d-XgoY8pPMnCLrrTNe0Pp4goptrVx5RNxb4que8c5tO18xMAzRvvPkVgHSjS6KYIM91MJITX0PEy_t8TSbqfIVdtuXj/s1600-h/10634_166713057221_713922221_3779821_3794345_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 391px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE0OQ-TjJWydcsXnpLP6f1Ccnq9q2SWEErrucNKTHWgwJ8kCFh2d-XgoY8pPMnCLrrTNe0Pp4goptrVx5RNxb4que8c5tO18xMAzRvvPkVgHSjS6KYIM91MJITX0PEy_t8TSbqfIVdtuXj/s400/10634_166713057221_713922221_3779821_3794345_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440764439662457346" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Women openly exchange notes about personal grooming habits. They trade facial regimens, hair-care treatments and other secrets. But there’s one thing that’s not out in the open.<br /><br /></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">By Alina Co</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /><br />Vaginal care, in blunt terms. Feminine hygiene to those fond of euphemisms. Though they still talk about it in whispers, Filipinas today are more aware of its increasing importance. According to Dr. Michelle Isip, OB-Gynecologist at St. Lukes Medical Center, good feminine hygiene prevents infections. Not only can discomfort result from less than standard feminine hygiene, sickness may occur as well. So more than feeling fresh and clean, do you think you’re healthy down there? Read on if you have doubts.<br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(photo by David Bernabe, model: Barbarra Lee)</span></i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Washing properly</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br />The market offers several products that claim to get rid of germs, such as douches, feminine wipes, and feminine sprays. There are also anti-bacterial soaps that claim to do the trick. According to Dr. Isip, “It is still best to use a pH-balanced feminine wash so as not to alter one’s normal vaginal flora." Wash twice daily, when you shower in the morning and before you go to sleep, she urges." </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 15px;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 15px;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 15px;font-size:medium;">(to read the rest of the article, log on to </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 15px;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 15px;font-size:medium;"><a href="http://www.wmn.ph/article/1212/vaginal-care-101">http://www.wmn.ph/article/1212/vaginal-care-101)</a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 15px;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 15px;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-76536270953189218662010-02-14T10:21:00.001-08:002010-02-14T10:22:47.981-08:00Free Jaq! Free the 43!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZtcATaq3p6QZMBbamsh8bSz8gb8osnKGfc0bjDLS-Ofaq-qJ6IeTiS3JwdWNkD2_eroPi0Vr-Ii9hArtgVPwaovFAhgSrUb6w899wLRAqOzE6ZfqHrqOUEUM3XEuQ3OYTdWZT2UnPgef7/s1600-h/free+jacq.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 283px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZtcATaq3p6QZMBbamsh8bSz8gb8osnKGfc0bjDLS-Ofaq-qJ6IeTiS3JwdWNkD2_eroPi0Vr-Ii9hArtgVPwaovFAhgSrUb6w899wLRAqOzE6ZfqHrqOUEUM3XEuQ3OYTdWZT2UnPgef7/s400/free+jacq.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438166177887933730" /></a><div><br /></div><div>Just got tagged in Facebook. My friend from college Jaq is unjustly detained in AFP. Please spread the word. </div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3582937489711903168.post-72030895882358089682010-02-07T06:07:00.000-08:002010-09-05T12:15:15.907-07:0027 UP is on February 23!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpQic6ekBb9GuX_ex5iTsyM4ZvthDQPGG_N9DEiBgzZpHdrnfDzznJNKAtDipbLDkCSVPrpBTH04t5hXksbVmZcZzLZXsfJVH6L767lJycLO15CsfPzH0CO_Cqklc4jFVBmvKOUPoCeQUI/s1600-h/final+poster.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 243px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpQic6ekBb9GuX_ex5iTsyM4ZvthDQPGG_N9DEiBgzZpHdrnfDzznJNKAtDipbLDkCSVPrpBTH04t5hXksbVmZcZzLZXsfJVH6L767lJycLO15CsfPzH0CO_Cqklc4jFVBmvKOUPoCeQUI/s400/final+poster.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435503224173771106" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px; "><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">27 UP is up</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">! On February 23, join us as we celebrate Kathrina Tiu Dy's life in 6Underground, at 8 pm. Had she lived, Kat would have celebrated her 27th birthday here with us last February 2.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Tickets are priced at P500, as this is to raise money to pay for the whopping medical bills, still unpaid in the hospital. (The ticket entitles you to a free drink.)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">So invite your friends for a night of bands and booze on February 23. Have a rockin' night and help at the same time!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">27 UP Organizers would like to thank the following bands for agreeing to perform for free:</span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Mayonnaise</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> (Monty, thank you so much! Zarina, you're da best!), </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Ang Bandang Shirley, Cunejo</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">(special mention: Pablo and Julius), </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Landas</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> (thank you mareng Toni for bearing with our "kulit" and texts), </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Domini & Carissa</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">, our talented batch mates in St. Paul (salamat Louise...sayang walang keyboard doon), and </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Nyctinasty</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> (Kissa, Sheila's friend).</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Also, thank you to Ancha, our Batch Head for her unwavering support. And all our batchmates (SPCP '01) for being there for us. Overwhelming ang support niyong lahat! To all the Paulinians who have never forgotten Tiu Dy, Vangie V., our busmates, Tiudy's friends in Assumption (Dyan, Pauline, Maris), in China Bank (April, sobrang thanks!) -- the coolest people Corinne, Dana, Kristle, KarKar, it was nice to meet you all.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Hope to see you all on Feb 23 and THANK YOU!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">- Ali, Torres, Kate, Chuggs, Paz, Trisha, Ivette & Diaz</span></span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span><div><br /></div></div>Alina Cohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07349079669214643497noreply@blogger.com0