Retaso sa Retrato

I never thought I'd get to recover these photos after Friendster. And after several years, I now realized I had much confidence to wear tiny pieces of fabric and expose much flesh. My husband might not know about these, and I don't know if he will even like them.

Someday when I'm older, if I can summon the same confidence again, I will get to wear tiny pieces of fabric aside from my underwear. Haha! Cheers!

Engaged Twice

We are engaged! Yes, officially now. The ring that Allan gave me that night formalized his question and I, wearing it in my finger (proudly as I type my words here), reconfirmed my consent to, well, marry him.

We were already engaged even before he slid the ring in my finger. He already popped the question months before he purchased that band for a pre-wedding commitment. He asked, I said yes. He already had my affirmative reply during his “unofficial’ proposal and that, itself is a strong pledge of my love – stronger than the ring, I think.

I did not ask for the ring. I do not honestly think it was necessary. But he had a different viewpoint.

Let me recall what happened that night he proposed.

It was our first night in Baguio City together. I am not familiar with the place but I was too keen about this trip so I prepared an itinerary beforehand. We are going to 50’s Diner for our first dinner in the city according to that itinerary.

We dressed up. I wore a floral dress and a peach-pink cardigan to warm me up. But who am I kidding? I never thought Baguio City would be so cold in November! The cold would seep through my cardigan and into my skin. Allan asked if I brought anything else (which he called a jumper) than the cardigan but I told him it was all I got. He knew I could not be a warrior in the cold so he brought out his Hilfiger jacket and covered me with another layer. He put on a dark blue knit shirt and a pair of trousers. I was silently amazed with the charm he effected on me just donning that. He looked so handsome that night I lose my concern that he would freeze outside because I was wearing his jacket. He did not mind.

50’s Diner was not far from Microtel. It was jam-packed with diners that we have to wait to be seated. The restaurant has a vibrant atmosphere – with food orders shouted out and followed up, echoing laughter and exciting buzz of several groups of friends, loud music, and the noise of eating utensils. In fact, when we finally got our table, Allan and I can barely hear each other. We would often turn to our iPhones and gaze at each other. We fulfilled our mission that night nevertheless: we were full up when we left our table.

Allan was still up to going somewhere after dinner. He asked if we could go walking in a park nearby. But it was drizzling that night and the road, slippery. Besides, I have no idea where else to go especially at night. So I suggested we better return to the hotel which we did.

We reached our hotel room full in the stomach but apparently unsatisfied. So we both sat in silence on the sofa. It seemed like an understanding of what we needed that night: a peaceful, romantic night which we were deprived of during the dinner earlier. Moments later, I realized we were already talking about our families and about us. I never felt very comfortable talking and listening to him like that before: my head on his shoulder and his right hand entangled with my left hand. He came to that point asking me what if he asks me to marry him again. Looking up at him, the words came off naturally from my lips – I would say yes over again. He smiled and held my chin to kiss me and I let him. The next thing went so suddenly that when I opened my eyes several seconds after, he was already on his knees revealing the ring on his left palm. He said he should have done the ‘kneeling’ part months ago when he first asked me to marry him. Anyway, he popped the question again in proper form and with the ring. No, I did not gasp and cover my mouth in feigned surprise if that was what you were expecting. I expressed what I was feeling then with a tight embrace and a whispered ‘yes’. He let me go eventually so he can slid the ring in my finger.

Allan sat back beside me. He was apologetic that the proposal which he just did was not as exciting as the first one. I don’t think he understood. It was my first time to be presented a ring and a determined question about marriage by a man. It was my first ever time to feel that a man is taking me seriously, that I am someone’s ‘for keeps’. Allan brought me to yet another life’s purpose-realization moment that I actually have a significant existence on earth. I mattered, and that is one big exciting matter for me!

Now that I think about it, the ring may still not be necessary but it concretized Allan’s steadfast intent to have me as his partner for the rest of his life and my permission to be so. He said that the ring is important because he wants people to know that I am his. Need I say more? I wear the ring to flaunt what I also want the world to know: I am engaged to a man I truly love!

We were officially engaged November 6, 2010, two days before our anniversary. Allan was so worried he might misplace the ring if he waited two more days to propose.

Help me pray for our love to flourish!

Kiss Miss

Weeks after my Bohol trip with Allan, I could still excitedly recount the sights and the memorable tour activities we experienced. I was telling a friend all these but all she has got to ask me afterwards was, 'Okay, but did you two kiss?' I would have been offended if that question was coming from someone else. But well, this friend of mine, she has that skill to thresh out unnecessary details to get to the point. Uhm, most of the time, her leading questions would arrive at her preferred points. So I suppose, since she's just that, I should not mind. But to her question, I replied with a bow of embarrassment, closed eyes, coy smile, and a slow, affirmative nod. She was tickled pink. Too late to take that back; too late to think I divulged too much personal relationship information. Of course we kissed! And now is just one of those miserable times that I am missing his kisses. One kiss from him could vacuum ideas off and create rumbling noises in my head louder than my heartbeat. Or perhaps his kisses stop my heart from beating at all I could not even hear it skip. Crazy. That sums it all up. His kisses make me go crazy. Come home in eight weeks please and kiss this Miss. I love you.

If I Were Venus Raj

Venus Raj's major-major answer to the Q&A portion of the Ms. Universe 2010 pageant created some cosmic wave throughout the world. To some, it was a lame answer coming from a beauty queen who should have been already sifted and refined to have reached that level. To others, even unconvincing, suit themselves to saying it was a very hard question. Venus was labeled by many as 'just another pretty face' in the history of this insatiable-and-definitely-relative search for beauty. Can't blame this many. She really is beautiful! My friend instant-messaged me with the question: "What is the biggest mistake you made in your life and how did you fix it?" (I think the latter part went like: what did you do to correct it?) Well, I really did not attempt to put myself in Venus' shoes until my friend shot that question at me. There was not a time to think. I really thought I was in the pageant and the audience awaits for my brilliant answer. It made me feel smart to answer right away. No second thoughts. I knew it by heart that I did commit a lot of mistakes in the past and a few just hit the mark. If I were Venus Raj, I would have said:

My biggest mistake in my life was compromising my family and my dreams for the love and attention of a guy who I actually begged to stay with me even when I knew he didn't love me anymore. What did I do to correct it? I think the natural course of moving on helped. Besides, I no longer had a choice. It would have been too late to correct it. The damage has been done. The pain was irreparable. I guess, the mistake left me lessons though. I did spend more time with my family and picked up my shattered dreams. It's never too late to start with something.

Sweet Escape

I was once warned (or was it several times) that I have to have my laptop checked for virus. And like the usual me, I never listened (or maybe I listened but did not budge). Well, it crashed just recently and the good thing is - no, count that the best thing, I was able to save some of my valuable files in my portable drive! And before my portable drive gets infected too, I might as well blog some files in case it becomes convenient to just pull them out later. Downside: it becomes conveniently available to triple-double-u too. Here's one I compiled and count as priceless. Whew! Saved before I could feel sorry for myself. Enjoy! Credits: Dumaluan Beach Resort for the accommodation Music by Natasha Bedingfield "Pocketful of Sunshine" Some photos from My Sweet

I Have SCENE It 2: Personal ID

Seen: Bored with just deep sea water and swelling waves meeting our boat on our way to Cagbalite Island in Quezon Province, (Yes, waves do not scare me even if I really cannot swim. I dwell on my body's bouyancy and divine providence should the boat capsize.) Manong Boatman's arm tattoo caught my attention. I should have called him by his Personal ID written on his arm, only I do not know how to pronounce it, I might embarrass myself. Learnings: Did someone ever tell you that each human is unique? And so are names maybe. A name is a reflection of one's individuality. Hmmm, I always thought the name 'Cristine' sounds pretty. (Ahk!)

Hypnotized

Okay, I know this sounds crazy but I still want to believe that 'faithfulness' is still on top of my priority values. But then again, when the strong force of temptation is right in front of you, displaying such allure and whispering angst of boldness, it becomes a difficult effort to resist. I'm talking about the new definition of temptation as: noun, of extinct species, tagged with such names as lee min ho, johnny depp, timothy olyphant, jerry yan, jason statham, robert pattinson, and allan alcantara I have to include the last name because you see, I see My Sweet at par with the celebrity-temptations on my list. Whenever, and when not, we are together, can't resist the urge to kiss him. (Oh no. Kiss and tell this is.) He's just my perfect leading man. I sure hope he's not an actor, egad! I need to get back to work and shut off this hypnotized mode I'm in. Argh. I miss My Sweet now.

My Room and My Self

For a couple of years of regularly coming home to the province, I chose not to sleep in my room. I occupied my brothers' room instead. At first, I only wanted a new-yet-familiar room. It gave me that exciting feeling but still welcoming. Until it became a habit.  Just recently, when I came home again to attend a friend's wedding the next morning, Mama told me I should sleep in my room. I asked why. Mama would probably say because it's my room yet she simply replied that she had the sheets in the other room cleaned. Funny that I have to ask why I should sleep in my room when it is my room. Suddenly, I realized that I learned to detach myself from what I own, what I have.  As I entered my room, I felt an old kind of warmth welcoming me. I looked around, nothing much has changed. Despite the fact that this room was often used by my sister-in-law and my niece when they visit the house, it still looks the way I remember it to be. My enlarged photo hanging above my dresser is still an eyecatcher. Posters of my favorite anime character - Sailormoon, remain stuck at my cabinet doors, badly faded. The Venetian blinds I used to play with while studying are slightly pulled up when I would have preferred them down. Except for the broken TV and the remote-controlled electric fan, everything stayed the way they used to be. I could tell from what I see and feel that I belong here. This is really my room. In analogy (here we go again), my returning to my room reflects a symbollic return to myself. After so much bemusing and wandering, trying new things and meeting new faces, learning and failing, it gives me much pleasure that I still have a grip of myself. Knowing myself creates this security in me. I may have gone to places, but when I'm lost and confused, I would just have to sit back and think of myself. Because myself is the only person I can rely on, love and help most. Myself is the only person who could help me. Sometimes I forget that significant fact. And sometimes I decide to forget myself and look for someone else to cling on to. Only in the end, o would only have myself. I still have to muster that so that everytime I would be challenged by this cruel world, I could easily drag my big self to face it.  Welcome back to your room, Tinao! Welcome yourself back.

The Proposal

Far the stretch of the shore

Enveloped by skies of darkness

Songs playing who knows what for

Breeze enfolding with tenderness

These things bring no less but more

To that moment when you professed

Your love underlining what’s in store

For both of us ahead, more or less

Was I only dreaming when you asked

‘Will you marry me?’ that night

Or did that moment came too fast

I thought I did not hear you right?

But in my heart, I felt, at last

My prayer’s granted tonight

Because it then came to pass

A love’s here to keep, if I might

No dreams, no movies, no fantasies

Would compare to how you made me feel

We danced, we embraced, then we kissed

You cried, I smiled, we would stand still

You told me this was your fervent wish

I thought I was born to make it real

So underneath the stars, I said, unease

‘Yes, I will marry you!” with a thrill!

I really don’t mind if you don’t have much

So long as you are there for me

To have and hold, or to get in touch

When miles away you are to me

Near or far, in cases as such

Of my love you are always worthy

For we share a love where two’s a match

And where a ring’s not much necessary.

- by Tinao | May 14, 2010

Sasabado Heat and Hits

It's one of the icky, inconvenient Saturdays of summer when I'm leaving my half-day period at work aboard an airconditioned bus. The plus of hopping in a public vehicle from Ayala at past half of noon: you get to choose your seat where you're most comfortable -- and where you get to avoid the aircon blast stiffening your hair and making you catch a cold when you get out. The long 45-minute trip back home would usually be an opportunity for me to get my nganga-sleep. You know, that kind of sleep when you're just too tired from work and you rest your head back and minutes after you're sleeping with your mouth open. Disgusting but natural. Deciding on how beautiful you would look while sleeping is not really one of the 'optional' things we have on earth. I was ready to doze off, until a Korean lady hopped in from Megamall. Let's call her 'Sasa', in reverence to this Korean lady who made my Saturday delightful. Sasa hopped in the bus but chose not to sit herself amidst the many vacant seats. She just stood beside the driver, held onto the rail while the bus drove on. The konduktor (he who collects the fare) told her that there are still many vacant seats at the back. Sasa replied 'I'm off at the next stop.' To which the konduktor said, 'Ano daw?' The guy next to me, in kindness, clarified what she said 'Bababa daw sya sa Ortigas.' To this the konduktor insisted that she take her seat and Sasa obliged. But then the driver was alarmed, the bus is taking the Flyover route, which means that it will take Sasa farther from Ortigas if she's off at the next stop rather than if she drops off before the Flyover. And so Manong Driver told the konduktor to tell Sasa to get down before the Flyover. To this, the obedient konduktor approached Sasa scratching his head and said, 'Ma'am, me up, you down!' The bus was immediately filled with the passengers' roaring laughter, including my own. The lady beside Sasa courteously explained that she has to get down or she'll walk farther going back. So Sasa got down. End of the story. It was a delight, not to be sarcastic, to hear the konduktor speak in English. According to him, he was caught in a do-or-die situation where he gave all he has got. He made all the efforts to communicate, no matter how others may think he was committing nonconformity to the subject-verb agreement. Screw that. What matters is he was able to relay his message, and Sasa, to an extent, understood the message. It counts to communicate. It brings you to where you want to go.

Sweets from My Sweet

Two days before this lousy celebration of Valentine's Day (hehehe), and following my usual routine of going straight home after office, I received an alarming SMS from my brother which imperatively read "Sis, tawag ka." When you receive such a message, you begin to wonder if the sender is caught in a compromising situation and in dire need. He's my brother, so I rang. How stupid of me that at that moment it did not brush my head that my brother has this nature of spoiling things. The next few moments of speaking with him over the phone stripped off every element of a surprise being a surprise. He just told me I got a package and it's from Allan, my sweet. So the surprise idea was already transmitted to my brain. But as to the content of the package, it had me twitching in excitement and my head bleeding with guesses. I had one guess correct; the others in my mind bubbles just popped into thin air.

So cute and really sweet.

This one I guessed right but I never expected this much.

The Valentine presents filled my heart with gladness I felt it nearly exploding. Thank God it did not, but my tear ducts did. My sweet has his ways of making me feel loved amidst the distance. Thank you, Allan.

I Got A 'Baby'

Allan gave me a 'Baby' for a birthday present. No, not the cute tiny creature moms love to cuddle. It's an Apple iPhone 3Gs! Too much trouble for him, I think, to buy me such a thing but he said 'It's nothing. Anything to make you happy.' Oh God, I told you he's the sweetest thing! My Sweet. Thank you! Thank you!

I'm calling it my 'Baby'. I'm still at the insatiable point of exploring the features of my Baby. Except for the initial disappointment that I could not immediately use my existing simcard because it's locked for some reasons yet, I'm happy there's an iPod in it! Now I could listen to songs, songs, and more songs! I'll be off to Greenhills this Friday to have it open-lined. I'm crossing my fingers it won't be bastardized.

My Sweet, I can't thank you enough. I love you!

Sunday's Best!

This is a great Sunday! Minus Love (my cousin who already went home to Pangasinan), my homies are comfortably at home and the thought of having ourselves gather for breakfast is just fantastic. I went to hear the 7:30 AM Mass today. I left the house like a thief because I was careful not to wake my housemates who were still under their sheets. It’s Sunday anyway and I think everybody deserves to rest – even God rested on the seventh day! When I returned from Mass, Regie was already awake but still indecisive to get up. In a weary voice he asked where I went and I told him I heard Mass alone. He scoffed at my reply because it was unusually early and I would most likely tag him along to hear Mass with me. In my defense I said, I wanted to get back to sleep early too and I think he understood because he decided to sleep again. I did not sleep right away. I felt like emailing My Sweet first so I did. Then I heard my stomach growled. It would be bad to go to bed hungry, I thought. I decided I would cook breakfast first. My brother SMSed that he is on his way home already and I’m sure he could bear with my cooking because I know he would be hungry too from work. Omelet was my top choice for our breakfast menu, with onions and tomatoes. We have not had eggs for more than a week. Besides, I do not make bad eggs at all, just average output. In addition to steamed rice, it would not hurt to add another carbohydrate-inducing option, albeit an instant food favorite at home, Lucky Me Pancit Canton! These would count at 'satisfying' for empty stomachs. While cooking the omelet, my brother’s arrival signaled getup time. He has a special talent for distracting people at sleep, which he could not apply on me. The house was bouncing, and this has not been the case for so many weeks now when there were only two or three people at home. Today, everybody is at home. Today, everybody is up and alive. And with all honesty, it is a good and relieving sight for me. Just thank You, God. As soon as I finished cooking, we all gathered at the table for breakfast. I asked if there is a new DVD we could watch afterwards. Regie said only Christian’s [Bautista] music CD is new on the rack. Ate Melyn suddenly blurted a laugh and echoed ‘Christian! Christian!’ – at which point Peter and my brother jointly laughed too. Maybe I was still hazy or already feeling sleepy but I cannot miss the laughing trip so I asked what the matter is. Without really coercing them to share what they were laughing about, my brother volunteered to recount his most embarrassing elementary experience – pooping in his pants! Ate Melyn, Peter and my brother went to the same elementary school. My other brother, Christian, was Ate Melyn’s classmate. One school morning before their flag ceremony began, another student came running to my brother Christian and, lacking discretion, disclosed the news: “Christian! Christian! Amay agim, si Cleo, akatae!” Translated to English, “Christian! Christian! Your brother Cleo pooped in his pants!” Hahahaha. More hahahaha! My eldest brother must have felt nearly disowning our brother Cleo at that point. Even if it was against his will, my brother Christian brought our brother Cleo home with two umbrellas covering his behind. According to my brother Cleo, it was the longest walk he has ever done, with multiple stops in between to suppress nature’s call, but always unsuccessful. He left a trail along the way like Little Red Riding Hood, only those were not crumbs. Ewww! Then the table turned to me. My brother Cleo also recounted my embarrassing experience when I sat in a class for a week in their school because my school was on an earthquake-break then. Out of frustration to write the cursive of ‘R’ and neglected by a cousin who was sitting beside me to teach me how, I unnecessarily bawled when the teacher asked the class to submit the written exercise. I was not an official part of the class but being the go-getter that I know I am, I was really disappointed. My disappointment was expressed in my unstoppable weeping. My brother Cleo’s attention was called so he could bring me home. “Gala la ta unsempet ta la,” (Come now and let’s go home.) he said while tugging at me. I was crouching with my head between my knees trying to hide my face when I answered, “Agko gabay. Dakdakel ni sali.” (I don’t want to. There are still many feet around.) I was referring to the feet of the pupils of that elementary school. They gathered around me like spectators of a show – a show of my embarrassing behavior. They were laughing at me and waiting for my next step or another delivery of a punch line. My brother pulled me out of the school grounds and I no longer resisted. I knew then I could no longer save my face. I never came back the next morning. I was remembered as a crying baby in that school. We could not stop ourselves from laughing. It was a hearty breakfast with my cooking and funny elementary memories. Certainly this won’t be the last.

*****

We ate our late lunch at Mang Inasal where I had three (yes, 3!) cups of rice. Screw the diet now. Starvation is an immediate problem, plus my head is near explosion for thinking of what to get My Sweet for Christmas. Even my guy-homies were not really of a big help.

*****

The sweetest thing on earth for me – My Sweet Allan, just called. I missed his first call. I was doing the dishes and sharing good laughs over a documentary film on the television when he called. When I went up to my room to check on my phone, there was the missed call. It was just 6:00 PM, earlier than his usual call time. The funny thing is I was actually expecting his call at this hour. He has ESP! Allan’s been acting strange lately. He has been calling me every night (if that is a weird thing) since last week. I am actually loving the calls and it makes me upset whenever I miss his calls. But is it not costly for him to make the calls? I never have the nerve to ask. I only want to make the best out of our conversations. But I told him that I want to call him some times too, only I am not sure if he’s in the middle of something at work or what. So I never really tried calling him since he returned. The previous phone conversations have been sweeter each time and did I say strange too? He is talking about puzzle pieces that I have to put together, if you know what I mean. He would talk about his plans upon his return in May next year. He would give out ideas which apparently are clues to something. I am not so dumb not to get the picture but he scares me. In a good way, I guess. I only want him to come back to the Philippines safe and healthy and swine-flu-free. I miss My Sweet Allan. I love him so much that I wish tomorrow is already May.