STATS for haters!

Funny how one man stands on Federer's way of becoming the perfect tennis player.


2009 ATP World Tour Masters 1000 Madrid
Spain Clay F Federer, Roger
6-4, 6-4 Stats

2009 Australian Open
Australia Hard F Nadal, Rafael
7-5, 3-6, 7-6(3), 3-6, 6-2 Stats

2008 Wimbledon
Great Britain Grass F Nadal, Rafael
6-4, 6-4, 6-7(5), 6-7(8), 9-7 Stats

2008 Roland Garros
France Clay F Nadal, Rafael
6-1, 6-3, 6-0 Stats

2008 ATP Masters Series Hamburg
Germany Clay F Nadal, Rafael
7-5, 6-7(3), 6-3 Stats

2008 ATP Masters Series Monte Carlo
Monaco Clay F Nadal, Rafael
7-5, 7-5 Stats

2007 Tennis Masters Cup
China Hard S Federer, Roger
6-4, 6-1 Stats

2007 Wimbledon
Great Britain Grass F Federer, Roger
7-6(7), 4-6, 7-6(3), 2-6, 6-2 Stats

2007 Roland Garros
France Clay F Nadal, Rafael
6-3, 4-6, 6-3, 6-4 Stats

2007 ATP Masters Series Hamburg
Germany Clay F Federer, Roger
2-6, 6-2, 6-0 Stats

2007 ATP Masters Series Monte Carlo
Monaco Clay F Nadal, Rafael
6-4, 6-4 Stats

2006 Tennis Masters Cup
China Hard S Federer, Roger
6-4, 7-5 Stats

2006 Wimbledon
England Grass F Federer, Roger
6-0, 7-6(5), 6-7(2), 6-3 Stats

2006 Roland Garros
France Clay F Nadal, Rafael
1-6, 6-1, 6-4, 7-6(4) Stats

2006 ATP Masters Series Rome
Italy Clay F Nadal, Rafael
6-7, 7-6(5), 6-4, 2-6, 7-6(5) Stats

2006 ATP Masters Series Monte Carlo
Monaco Clay F Nadal, Rafael
6-2, 6-7(2), 6-3, 7-6(5) Stats

2006 Dubai
U.A.E. Hard F Nadal, Rafael
2-6, 6-4, 6-4 Stats

2005 Roland Garros
France Clay S Nadal, Rafael
6-3, 4-6, 6-4, 6-3 Stats

2005 ATP Masters Series Miami
FL, U.S.A. Hard F Federer, Roger
2-6, 6-7(4), 7-6(5), 6-3, 6-1 Stats

2004 ATP Masters Series Miami
FL, U.S.A. Hard R32 Nadal, Rafael
6-3, 6-3 Stats

Fed Up

This adjective (fed up) is an overused expression by the maligned and oppressed but will have a new definition in tennis terms. It justifies how Roger Federer is the king of his generation of tennisters (if not the best of all time).

I love tennis and it is pretty normal to be partisan. Most people even marry their spouses although they contradict on important issues about living. This is exactly, where Nadal and Federer come in. The former I adulate on the tennis court and the latter, the former's punching bag to glory (harsh but tough! - Rafa is the only man with most wins over Roger in grandslams). But this Australian Open, it is commendable how Roger plow through the wannabes of the sport aiming to usurp him of his unquestionable stronghold of the sport. Roger being a champion that he is, just battled on and obviously, not done with his masterclass on tennis just yet. The young guns still have a lot to learn (I empathise with Murray though with how the whole Britain pressurise him on winning a slam).

Watching the finals not rooting for any of the finalists was my ideal tennis pundit moment. I got to see strokes, ball placements, service motions and most of all (aided by lack of distraction), read through their mettle of mental strength. From Serena's interview a night ago, she said that "...tennis is 70% mental strength". When Nadal is playing, my screaming self takes over and tennis analysis is thrown out of the window.

At this juncture, Federer is at his most dangerous (barring injuries and other health/parental issues). The reason is not motivation contrary to what tennis commentators blab on non-stop). He is now free to swing his arms without hesitation and play without reservations and inhibitions. Knowing that you're the greatest player in the world and perhaps, of the sport ( no matter how he downplays that accolade), you have nothing else to prove. Great strokes and points are achieved with certainty of emotions and lack of anxiety when playing. I'm afraid, Federer is up there in a pedestal; in a pantheon reserved just for him, for life. It is a gift that goads fearlessness.

So yes, "Fed up" is a good adjective. It means fearlessness in winning and losing.

Paulette, don't laugh!

My sister has a "kick-ass" version of this song.

doppelganger

Janette channeling Jessica (her idea not mine)...

choices

I met up with Janette today. Aside from insufflating fresh air, we purposely aimed at finding the most practical, ergonomic, durable and economical kettle along Oxford Street. Periodically veered towards the soon-to-vanish-sales in High Street, this task proved to be the least straightforward and the most time consuming. Kettles come in different sizes, shapes, prices, brands and colours and just added to the complexity of thought processes i.e. picking the right one.



Array of choices complicate life's integrity. It highlights the vulnerability of human psyche. To triumph over it means peace of mind from the blame of superego. In other words, you get maturity points for each time you conquer it.

Several stores later (and few miles of walking!!!), she settled for a Breville. It took nearly four hours of intricate decision-making and my pushy salesmanship to achieve the main aim: find the elusive kettle. I applaud Janette for persevering. I was looking for that elusive winter boots for weeks and bought a variety of pairs in the end. Out of the lot, I only use one pair regularly with the others stacked in the cabinet. I realised that I lack one major thing: right-minded, sound decision-making skills.

Decision-making is the guru of all choices. It whips one to shape. However, novice decision-making is called "impulsiveness" and I have tonnes of it. And believe me, it is bloody expensive.

daily "bread"

friday boredom!!!!

longevity

Women's Doubles Champion - Australian Open 2010

being human

Few more minutes and I have to give my customary bid of adieu followed by a kiss on the cheek. Few more moments and I'd shake hands with the people I have known deeply these past six months. Although it wasn't a placid journey, I got to where I wanted to be. I became the person I thought I'd never be. Although I am in great anticipatory mood for the next chapter of my working life, I wonder why I am ambivalent of what to feel right now. The chair is pulling me in as I am finding it hard to thrust myself out of it.

I actually feel sad.

Today's my last day as the manager for this unit (back to Practice Development full time - hurrah!). For six months, it has been quite a path to learning. I learned how to manage but most of all, learned when not to.

There are things I am good at. But by discernment of one's limitations, this is one task that I am certainly not good enough (I suffer some sort of prosaic mentality when I perform a task with hollow interest, hence my justification for the lack of zest for trying).

rain pours

Two major life altering moments hit me today. The good thing about it is.... they are good, err, fanta-bulous news. I seldom get to experience that. It's been a long time since I grinned ear to ear but today, it is reassuring that good things still drop from the sky without causing head bumps or worse, concussions.

I still smile even at the thought of it.

Yeeeeeeha!

3 little pigs

If the two other pigs lived and stayed with their brother living in the brick house, then this will be the continuing story of their ordeal.

With the changing times, the three little pigs grew restless. Living in the house made of stone gave them the comfort and security they needed. They found success in life but got bored of their lifestyle eventually. One day, the pig who built his house on straw suggested a day out in the big city. With the two others easily swayed, they ventured to the big unknown world.

They had meals they never tasted their whole life. They rode buses and trains to their delight. It gave them more security than ever. They watched a WestEnd musical and lastly, decided to shop for clothes. They ventured towards Bond Street as they heard about the flashy, shimmering commodities they sell that truly catch attention. Glittering things appeal to their senses despite having no idea on how to make use of them. Little did they know that the wicked modern witch lives in one of the shops that sells shiny paintings and sculptures. The pig who built his house on sticks suggested to check the gallery along New Bond Street and eventually, chanced upon the exhibit of the witch; their curiousity enlivened by the blinding disco ball embellished with swarovskis.



To make the story short, with the prodding of the evil one, they drank the shiny crystalline champagne and they turned into stones. The witch adorned their bodies with crystals all over and sold to the rich old patron with wolf-like teeth.

Lesson 1: The stupid and lazy one is not to be trusted.
Lesson 2: Being surrounded by stupid ones is good for a short period of time but scarily contagious
Lesson 3: One for all and all for one is an old adage (emphasis on "old")

A note from a "stan" hurting not from tendinitis‏

I can think of innumerable reasons why Rafael Nadal is good for tennis. Records and achievements speak volumes. In and out of the court, Rafa exemplifies an ambassadorial role for the sport, not to mention, his nonpareil sportmanship.



Perception of the game is something non-tennis enthusiasts would not empathise. With Rafa, he makes tennis a sport worth achieving with hardwork, patience and dedication. He sweats and re-enacts dying and resurrection while at play. You see a magnitude of human qualities of his persona which puts Indian cinema to shame. Rafa's wails and tolerable grunts are like Phantom of the Opera's notes. They seem precarious yet enough to stir emotions. In short, he makes tennis look like real sport where the valiant vanguishes and the bloodied gladiator raises his arm towards the sky as if he felt that prodigious honour. Without him, I'm afraid I'd see posh tosh gladiators who would shower ten times after the match caused by aversion to dirt and sweat.

Rafa reigns because he is an athlete in a no-nonsense way, in past or present terms. But then again, even if pundits and tennis enthusiasts don't warm to Nadal, I'd stick with him. And if he quits at a young age as caused by injuries, it's the sport's loss. I'd go back to perceiving tennis as a sport for the elite and the privileged. A sport where winning is more of recognition and records than the triumph of body and spirit against the scourges of human frailty.

I won't be surprised if future players get a personal shirt-changer cum sweat-wiper cum banana-peeler while in a tennis match.

VAMOS! VAMOSE! VAMOOSE!

docere

Funny that when you have few days left before your other job starts, you tend to find the hours drag on like days and days like months. Starting the 1st of February, I will be full time into Practice Development role yet again. My Unit manager role is wilting to an enjoyable death as I move on to full time teaching. Just rightly so for I have been shadowing the education pathway for sometime now.

There are a lot of benefits that come with this move:

It will give me extra hour of sleep, as I start 9 am daily, monday - friday

I own my time

I follow my "outlook" diary entries without having to contend with immoderate surprises

I go home on time

I get more information about a lot of things if not everything (incl professional gossips)

I get to guide staff members who befittingly need my services

I get to teach, teach and teach


Teaching is noble; no one ever said that with conviction than Ms. Adoracion San Vicente (my English college professor). But love for teaching is deeply rooted even at a young age. I taught my brother and sisters how to read... and learn gymnastics (to stick the landing after a good dismount) and dance to Madonna's "Dress you up"... and compute with maths and acquire a little bit of GMRC (good manners and right conduct). I even hummed Aida's "Triumphal March" during their mocked-up "commencement exercises" with medals and ribbons.

I have always associated teaching with fun; the word mirth comes to mind.

0.1 is a good number

So, Britain is out of recession, just.

Gross domestic product rose a feeble 0.1 per cent in the final quarter of 2009, the Office for National Statistics reported Tuesday. My friends have something to do with this as they embraced the December and January sales with the much needed economic boost by shopping spree.



I bought, returned and then purchased again the same item last month. That must have helped a little bit.

bad day at the office

Rafa Nadal, an athlete through and through.
(retired during his quarterfinals match against Andy Murray)

proximity of death

My neighbour died last night. Her cause of death: suffocation from her burning flat. She's few doors away from me and although, I didn't have any verbal exchange of pleasantries (not given a chance) with her, a neighbour is still a person; who one may consider a foe or a friend. In any way, you get affected by horrible, ghastly incidents that befall them. She's no exception. Last night was a reminder of how death picked a place of respite for the night and took a life in the process.



BY KEVIN BRADFORD: THE death of a pensioner in a Golders Green flat fire last night has come as an “awful shock” to neighbours living close to the scene.

A number of people had to be evacuated from their homes in Queen's Court, Hampstead Way, after fire crews were called at about 10.40pm.

Some residents reported smelling a slightly “toxic” burning smell from early afternoon, but were unsure of the source or the severity as there was no obvious signs of a fire.

Maria Straw-Cinar later went upstairs to check on her neighbour, while another called the emergency services.

She said firefighters were forced to break in through the 68-year-old victim's front door and open the windows of first floor flat, which sent plumes of smoke billowing out.


While the heroes of the night battled the blaze for two hours, I was watching live tennis awaiting for the possibility of evacuation. My partner on the other hand was busy snoring.

ordinary life

I woke up with a headache.

The room was in disarray: Venetian curtains pulled halfway, sheets strewn across the floor and empty bottles of champagne on top of the dressing table. I rang the bell to summon Bertha from the quarters and she then rushed to my aid. Like a seeress, she handed me an aspirin and glass of water. She said, "What would like for lunch?". "Something different, Bertha. I'll have it by the pool. Tell Carlo to get it ready". I tried to recollect the events of the night before as I reached for the remote across the bedside table and yanked the volume up to a Carly Simon classic, "You're so vain". I could remember very little from last night. I knew I was in a VIP room of this plush nightclub with friends and across the table were some footballers in a drinking frenzy. I couldn't remember how I ended curled up on the floor with sheets for decency.

Feeling refreshed and with the sun up, I got a text reminding me of a tennis match with some old Wimby Champion at the country club. Reaching for the towel as I came out of the pool, my PA Maddy admonished me of my flight to catch up with my mother who's in Monaco. She decided to join her friends for some charity poker game to escape father - who's binge drinking with friends in Hawaii.

It was a taxing day. At City airport, my jet was delayed by Obama's security officials who closed all the gates on us, mere beings. For two hours of delay, I could only think of the coming week. I have to fly to New York for a business meeting. It's tedious. "Why can't I just do a conference video call?" I once murmured to my brother who organised the meeting. He said, "...to teach you some work ethics". I'd miss the gala at the Royal Opera House on tuesday and it's social suicide.



"I hate my life.... So unfair", muttering under my breath.

I woke up crying. I just realised that I slept with the muted television on. Tiptoe-ing to the kitchen (not to awaken my partner), I helped myself with a glass of water. There's a mountain-load of dishes begging to be washed in the sink. "In the morning......", I assured them.

the march continues.....

SAG Awards 2010 - Best Actress (The Blind Side)

mini tale

Sat-your-day

Damn it!

I am tired and exhausted.

A fun-filled event is always followed by a major somatic affliction. Sleeplessness remedied by coffee always ends up with agitation and restlessness. I should have listened to my bit of know-how and ditched caffeine... but the dishes, leftovers, laundry and floor needed my ministration.

I will lose my job if I leave it to my boss to clean up (partner's mad about cleaning). He's way too strict.



After all the hard work, I flick the channels and find nothing interesting to watch on a saturday night. I'm forcing myself to a sharp thriller with Mark Wahlberg, Shooter (2007), to satisfy my visual needs. I feel robbed (for paying my monthly TV License fee) and duped (for an unrecompensed household drudgery).

fry-day

I promised myself to celebrate birthday in a low key manner. Restaurant and hotel parties are passe (for me at least). The reason comes down to nothing but moolah. Yes, money is precious even for a person like me (I never considered money as vital ingredient to happiness - I still think that way but I capitulate to its power at times). But there's a way around it. Celebrating birthday with people that matter the most (when family is not within reach) is just imperative. Few dishes on the table and few glasses of spirits should be enough to make them feel that you value them as people; more importantly, as friends.

Today's friday and I have a lot to fry. I decided on cooking classic dishes that most house celebrations are based on. They are easy but time consuming nevertheless. I am bent on making it presentable. They say, it has to look appealing enough to eat. If guests won't like it, it would be too late for they have dished it out onto their plates. If this happens, tell them to follow it through with wine or any alcoholic beverages to make food palatable. It alters mental perception, you get away with that much salt or bland viands.

I have very few SPECIAL people coming over. I have the president of Croatia, the power couple (celebrity), the FIRST family, the "IT" girl, Mother Theresa and Simon Cowell. It's an extraordinary day that I vacuumed the house twice and abraded the kitchen sink many times this week more than I scrubbed it last year.



I'm afraid there's no red carpet; there's no champagne either. I guess it's enough they're visiting a lowly man. They'll see what humility is like with less household amenities to accomodate them. The good thing is: few real friends look beyond that.

eleventh hour

stab at cooking

Leche Flan is now steaming.
Pancit bihon,
honey chicken,
pork dumplings,
spring rolls and
risotto later.

How difficult is that!

minding people's business

The guy in front standing and holding on to the metal bar has an "open fly". Being oblivious, he's probably wondering why he gets the attention at this early morning tube ride to work. Instinctively, he rubs his tongue against his teeth and cups his back pockets as if searching for his wallet. He checks his coat buttons and finally realises that his white boxers' peeping through the zipper.



The executive looking man in the far right corner of the carriage looks confident and dignified. He's reading his usual dose of Metro paper accompanied by his intermittent bouts of sneezing fits. He does it with as little sound as possible (which I find odd). He crosses his leg and reveals the purple and red socks as his trouser legs are pulled up slightly. He then looks around cautiously pulling his trousers down.

People are funny. We are just laden with inconsistencies. But I am glad I still keep that appropriateness and acute acumen about basic subsistence. Time however is an ally or a foe. One has to keep one eye on other people; the other to oneself.

Flaky Daisy

Daisy's an orphan. She's alone since the age of 2 weeks when her mother got killed by a hawk during Mayor Boris Johnson's campaign of driving pigeons away from Trafalgar with the predator. Her father died saving the family. She lost her left leg but lived.



Southbank has been home. In this place, she's scrounging for food from the tourists who love taking photos of bridges and buildings. She'd sit at the wooden bench everyday hoping for a token of bread. She loves being photographed and in as much as she rationalises a reason for it, she doesn't understand the much interest of people towards her.

It is not the adulation that bothers her but the envy of her flock.

Daisy loves sunset. Hopping on one leg for hours, waiting for the sun to ensconce behind the buildings is a tall order. Nevertheless, she knows it'll be worth it. She wonders where the sun finds respite after a day of toiling.

She wonders why she's different.

enfeebled mind, body and spirit

The merriment was minimal. In fact, nonexistent.

As you grow older, energy expenditure is "serious talking". One's priorities change drastically. This is not a justification of (come on, say it!) being boring. This is more of matter-of-course reaction to living.

I thought of walking around town, taking photos (artistically) and a candlelit dinner for two in the evening. I took a shower and pampered myself with a bubbly bath. I wore the cashmere jumper that was a gift and headed for the door. In a split second, I felt exhausted despite doing nothing for days. I didn't know that dressing up can be an "energy-zapper". Few calls and I settled for home-cooked lunch and a massive dose of British telly. I fell asleep out of weariness and woke up with the looming darkness.

I had this parley with a friend about aging. Being in the same age bracket, she said that we're in the twilight. That being said, I realised that I just slammed the exit door of twilight behind me and moved to a surreal place called old age (that's an exaggeration) based on symptomatology. This is a place where the remaining didactic
thinking outweighs instinctive yet impulsive decision making. If it's rationale enough, then it's worth doing. The fun of irrationality of youth is gone.



I feel old, I really do.

old fashion

With the advent of high technology, it is impressive to receive a card from a friend. True to his old school doctrine, he sent this card by post when most of the people I know "ping" cards/messages via the net.

it's my party and I cry if I want to

I couldn't remember the last time I cried. It must be ages ago.
Thanks Butchi!



From Nelson's blogsite: www.48years.blogspot.com

how i met your mother

Naging kaklase ko siya noong college. Magaling sa Biochem at Nursing subjects. Very active sa mga extra-curricular activities. Kasama sa choir, cheering at kung ano-anong clubs. Malakas ang kanyang PR, kaya it's safe to say na isa siya sa mga pillars ng aming batch.


Mahilig siyang umuwi ng gabi dahil sa dami ng kanyang social obligations sa school. Kasama na roon ang kanyang panghuhula sa iba't ibang batch, na minana pa niya sa kanyang mga ninuno sa Romblon. Pero ni minsan ay hindi ako nagpahula sa kanya. Kasi lagi siyang may "masamang pangitain" sa akin.


Una kaming naging close nang maglakad kami ng sabay from FEU to Stop&Shop. Napaka-traffic kasi noon, ginagawa ang Nagtahan fly-over. During that walk, we discovered that we were totally different, yet shared so many things in common. That was the longest walk that I had with a very interesting person in my young life. Mula noon, hindi na kami napaghiwalay.


We became the best of friends.


Naging saksi ang upuang bato sa QI, mga sinehan sa Isetann Recto, pork chop ng Pinky Pop at mga ulam sa Nitz ng aming maraming oras ng bonding. We shared so many stories, so many dreams, so many secrets that only kindred spirits could ever possess.


While I was so hibang with my teenage crush, he was already teaching as a CI. While I was dreaming of a viable career, he was already nursing in Kuwait. While I was looking for my own place in the sun, he was shining in London. While I was crying over my failures, he was already making rounds in European countries. While I was chasing that one person over and over again, he's been into a series of relationships, breakups, and marriage.


But he's ever present in my moments of despair and little triumphs. Always ready to give a piece of advice, to encourage -- or just to listen.


We took different paths. We met different persons. We chose different lives.


Years made us what we are now.


Lately, I read frequent complaints in his blog regarding physical decline, pessimism and lack of motivation to do things. I suffer the same. A curse of old age.


Today, as you add another year to your illustrious life, I wish you all the best, Rian. May you continuously be blessed with a healthy body, fecund mind and caring heart.

trientaisiete anos

It is a prime number, the fifth lucky prime, the first irregular prime, the third unique prime and the third cuban prime of the form.

37 is the only two digit number in base 10 whose product, when multiplied by two, subtracted by one, and then read backwards, equals the original two digit number: 37×2=74, 74-1=73, 73 backwards is 37.

The atomic number of rubidium.
The normal human body temperature in degrees Celsius.

Messier object M37, a magnitude 6.0 open cluster in the constellation Auriga
The New General Catalogue object NGC 37, a spiral galaxy in the constellation Phoenix

The jersey number 37 has been retired by several North American sports teams in honor of past greats.

The number of plays William Shakespeare is thought to have written (counting Henry IV as three parts).

+37 was the international dialing code of the German Democratic Republic (aka East Germany). Today the +37 prefix is shared by Lithuania (+370), Latvia (+371), Estonia (+372), Moldavia (+373), Armenia (+374), Belarus (+375), Andorra (+376), Monaco (+377), San Marino (+378) and Vatican City (+379).

Paul Newman's inmate number in Cool Hand Luke.

The age at which Vincent van Gogh died.

The age I am starting to live.

shrink

It is that time of the month again when I pay my shrink a visit.

Like clockwork, my body finds a way of telling me to slow down and find an empty bench along the Thames that's overlooking the historic buildings and bridges. Like an answered prayer, the riverbank sets the mood for mental confession; an ode of a man to the old river.



The fog provides translucency from afar. The peaks and the details of structures are mere outlines. Despite the footsteps and intermittent torrent of stringed words, peace arrests your senses. It makes you feel alone and numbs your sensitivity to adjuncts of life.

My session starts and finishes without time. Time becomes irrelevant; only becoming an accessory to my wishes. For once, I control the elements. Then, like a stroke of certainty, a kibitzer would pull me out of trance asking, "Can you take a photo of me and my partner please...".

The cycle of living restarts.

Naturally

Even the River Thames has its low.

One may argue that life is transcending all these natural landscapes that enshroud us but... aren't we part of it? I say, life is a cycle. When you hit the low, be glad that you did. You are now one of those living and non-living entities that follow the natural path.

You are not alone.

type

With the popularity of blogging soaring to dizzying heights and mass media becoming more and more accessible, we are now inundated with views, opinions and public lifestyle display of millions of people. It seems like everyone has a voice and must be heard. Schizophrenia related to devoid of self expression must be on a decline. We are now able to speak out and rid ourselves of malevolence.



My partner asked me if someone actually reads my blog. Feigning predisposition to lie, I answered " A few, I guess". I knew what the follow up question's going to be so I uttered, "... it doesn't matter anyway if I only have a handful who read it". In all honesty, it's good to have unknown faces out there in the ethereal world of web reading my entries but I remember clearly how my blogs came about.

As they say life isn't always rosy. My past few years were far from being agreeable; undoubtedly, hitting rock bottom. I have sunk the lowest of lows and during those times I fostered an unlikely friendship with the keyboard and the computer screen. They listened as I type away my cares and worries. The good thing about being human is the ability to quantify and qualify issues. A written blog is a measurable entity of human response thus making it easy to reflect upon.

The big payback is your ability to keep mental sanity intact through self expression. People being able to relate with your woes and lamentations is not necessarily a step up but effectuates Maslow's idea of development. If someday psychiatric connoisseurs find out that there is psychosis with too much self expression through blogging, I'd be ideal candidate for scrutiny.

the science of likeness

Nora Ephron made one long movie. But I have had satiating dinner, wide telly screen to watch it from and soft mattress to rest my back. All these to enjoy the film.



With all the accolades Meryl is getting for this film, I don't see the reason why I would want to negate that. I don't want to make it sound like a "shameless plug" (for I have expressed my strong opinion about Ms. Streep) but one person usually comes to life and follows a rather special path. It is peculiar because that person touches other people's lives (in a positive or deranged way). There are many of those aspiring actresses out there who would want to follow her path or do the "single white female" way.

In true style of life imitating art, Julie Powell's life semblance with Julia Child isn't one unique circumstance (as played out in the film). Allow my musing on the subject to ramble on (this will sound like self indulgence to the hilt):

I know someone who happens to be a nurse
He had a long term relationship - ended up acrimoniously
He engages himself in a soul searching venture - couldn't find himself
He finds out that the saying is true - too many fishes in the ocean
Clandestine relationship's far too appealing
The lure of carnal existence is addictive - ignoring repercussions

This is not uncommon. You may not admit it but at the back of your mind, (true or untrue) someone patterns his/her life to yours. However, it is when you realise this actuality that you examine your life and make further changes. Understanding is a good start.

That's where similarities end as I move a lot. This way, I get to shake cobwebs and learn more about myself. Learning is always good with your eyes open.

be stupid

DIESEL brand wants us to be stupid.

GG 2010

MOTION PICTURES:

–Picture, Drama: ”Avatar.”

–Picture, Musical or Comedy: ”The Hangover.”

–Actor, Drama: Jeff Bridges, ”Crazy Heart.”

–Actress, Drama: Sandra Bullock, ”The Blind Side.”

–Director: James Cameron, ”Avatar.”

–Actor, Musical or Comedy: Robert Downey Jr., ”Sherlock Holmes.”

–Actress, Musical or Comedy: Meryl Streep, ”Julie & Julia.”

–Supporting Actor: Christoph Waltz, ”Inglourious Basterds.”

–Supporting Actress: Mo'Nique, ”Precious: Based on the Novel `Push' by Sapphire.”

–Foreign Language: ”The White Ribbon.”

–Animated Film: ”Up.”

–Screenplay: Jason Reitman and Sheldon Turner, ”Up in the Air.”

–Original Score: Michael Giacchino, ”Up.”

–Original Song: ”The Weary Kind” (theme from ”Crazy Heart”), (written by Ryan Bingham, T Bone Burnett).

TELEVISION:

–Series, Drama: ”Mad Men,” AMC.

–Actor, Drama: Michael C. Hall, ”Dexter.”

–Actress, Drama: Julianna Margulies, ”The Good Wife.”

–Series, Musical or Comedy: ”Glee,” Fox.

–Actor, Musical or Comedy: Alec Baldwin, ”30 Rock.”

–Actress, Musical or Comedy: Toni Collette, ”United States of Tara.”

–Miniseries or Movie: ”Grey Gardens,” HBO.

–Actor, Miniseries or Movie: Kevin Bacon, ”Taking Chance.”

–Actress, Miniseries or Movie: Drew Barrymore, ”Grey Gardens.”

–Supporting Actor, Series, Miniseries or Movie: John Lithgow, ”Dexter.”

–Supporting Actress, Series, Miniseries or Movie: Chloe Sevigny, ”Big Love.”

——

PREVIOUSLY ANNOUNCED

Cecil B. DeMille Lifetime Achievement Award: Martin Scorsese.

roots

spread

We usually scan food, clothes, bodies et al...
Airport scanning has just gone one step forward.
Are you shy?

laze

This sunday is a good respite from the gruelling week that's gone. The elements conspired to make it ideal for a lazy, relaxing day. The sun is out, the breeze is mild (autumnal) and the pavement's dry. That's a kilo less of weight and an inch less of volume of winter garment when you go out. It is also a lot easier to direct the whole body against the packed streets.



After the white blanketing of the whole UK, this is going to be welcomed by people who behaved like mole for weeks. Going out in drove, cafes and shops will reach their quota of customers and revenues. At least, the majority are happy and usually, there are a lot of favourable repercussions that come with happiness.

This psychological mumbo jumbo is going to strain my head. After tennis, I intend to savour this fine weather over my must-have combo: chai tea latte, a muffin and a conversation (other than myself - Lito fortunately obliged).



It is good to lose yourself once in a while.

first

Despite Bo's protestations, I set out to play tennis. This is my first in months. The sun has, for the first time in weeks, staged a comeback of its own. Although, the nippy air bites at every exposed flesh, the will is assiduously goading on. I am still going to play tennis.

Tomorrow is the start of the first grandslam of tennis, Australian Open (Melbourne). Visiting pages of tennis sites online at this time is like a poll. Tennis pundits have given their assessment of the year debating about potential winners. They have favorites and so do I. Based on the year-end ranking, Federer and S. Williams took top spots of seedings. Nadal, the defending champion (being out of contention for almost half of 2009 due to injury), will try to improve his hardcourt credentials by asserting his rightful place at the top of the game. However, upsets play an enticing and exciting role in tennis and for this year, I gladly would want an underdog claim the trophy.



Like a stroke of coincidence and luck, I am off for a week. I will be able to stream matches online (if BBC will just air Murray's matches) and ignore other pressing matters like essays and developmental competencies (and birthday preparations). I'd just cram at the last minute just like aeons ago where I managed to thwart deadlines upon deadlines.

I am confident in telling people not to let priorities go awry; important things take precedence. I tell myself that and think about it so hard that I see the point. But to action them is another matter.

deep rooted desire

Vanity sits on my left shoulder and it is so damn hard to ignore her. I know it is relative but I am a lover of all beautiful things. Some are seemingly impossible to achieve but getting to talk about it is good enough for me.

raw new york

I just asked Manny ...errrr... Manni to buy me that bloomin' elusive tee with a tie print from A&F. Manni being Manni, he's able to find out that the store's still got it in stock. I'm no fan (of A&F) but that particular design kind of drilled my brain with curiousity.



Tidbits of chit chat:

Rian
go on
dun be shy
im not

Mithra
biro lang
i have everthing i need and i want here naman

Rian
well..

Mithra
but

Rian
u dun have brit stuff like fortnum and mason

Mithra
if i think of something ill let you know
thanks
whats that?
do i need it? i want it?
haha

Rian
yeiz
if u dont
ur guests will need it

Mithra
ano va yan?

Rian
well.. the QUEEN's tsaa
jeffs fave

Mithra
lol

Rian
since ur the queen of all queens
baka gusto mo
kidding
mwaah

Mithra
lol..thanks
i am getting my teeth bleached am just finishing my coffee before i get it done
lol

Rian
nice

Mithra
i have a bag of coffee im finishing up

lol

Rian
sigh
manginig ka nyan

Mithra
ok lang yan
hahaha

Rian
so
think of sumthing
and i will giv it to bru nellie
hes only here for 8 days

Mithra
alrighty

Rian
love the pic by the way
ur main pic
para kang......... shy debutante

Mithra
thank you
naman
of course
shy naman me
ano veh!

Rian
shy.. as if
ano veh!

Mithra
ok fiine!
walang hiya ka
lol

Rian
lol
fowts..... ala kang religion???

Mithra
wiz
dont believe in it
ano veh

Rian
as written here....
hmmmmmmmmm
ok.... isa kang taga olympus....

Mithra
naman

Rian
sinu ka dun

Mithra
akala ko taga doon ka din eh
Hermes
lol

Rian
nag co commute ako sa iba minsan
hahahahahahahaha
love the brand
love the god

Mithra
naman

Rian
at ikaw si..... Zeus...?

Mithra
ikaw?
i am your son then
lol

Rian
hahahahahaha

Rian
read my blogs....
ull feel betta after reading it

Mithra
i will bru

Rian
parang misery loves company
or
feelin' better at the writer's misery...

Mithra
ive been reading it here and there
i love the entries

Mithra
and the pics

Rian
hahahahaha
sya enjoy.....
next time... VIDA ka
any request
kung pano kita kakatayin

Mithra
haha

Rian
pramis yan
vida ka
im just thinkin kung pano kita..... ikakaldero

Mithra
hahaha
make sure i am really tender
ano veh!

Rian
after 10 hours of pressure cooking
im sure tender ka


INTERMISSION

MORE YADA YADA YADA......

Rian
u are an angel

Mithra
whatever
im not an angel
im a fucking New Yorker
hahaha

Rian
exactly.... angel of the deep... hades.... abyss..... at kung anek anek

Mithra
naman

Rian
u dun mind me.... pOSting this conversation sa blog ko?
iiedit ko naman eh

Mithra
i dont care

Rian
yey

Mithra
ano veh!

Rian
hahahahaa
say sumthing worth writing
and intellectual
ano veh!

Mithra
choz!...lol

Rian
wow
thts new
like it

Mithra
hahahaha

Rian
choz..... very new yorker

Mithra
youre funny

Rian
sya
im cookin pa

Mithra
or charice
lol

Rian
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Mithra
you make me laugh

Rian
hay naku
why am i here
sana new yorker din ako

Mithra
lifat na

Rian
someday
soon

Mithra
hahaha
kapag wobbling ka na
ano veh!
you have to enjoy it now while you can hop

Rian
nasa lahi namin to live up to.... 150 noh

Mithra
with your hips

Rian
all i need is my tongue
not hips... nor hands

Mithra
or your pen

Rian
o di vah
hahahahahaha
sya cook na me
darating na amo ko
lalatiguhin ako ni sir pag di nakaluto
babush,..... tyvm manny

Mithra
you like getting whipped
ano veh

Rian
thts why laging walang luto
para may whip

Mithra
Manni...Ano veh!
hahaha

Rian
hahahahah ok manny

Mithra
arrrrggghhhhh

THE END.

versions...

Adobo

Philippines is on spotlight as Michelin-starred chef Jason Atherton cooked chicken and pork adobo on telly. In Rachel Allen: Home Cooking BBC 1 show, show hostess Rachel ventured to do a spat of cooking with Jason and cooked Adobo (admittingly, Jason's favorite).



Jason is married to a filipina and the family lives in London. He is one of Gordon Ramsay's favorite chef. Watching the show gave me goosebumps. There's that sense of pride.

200110

A dribble of well wishing is an intermittent reminder of the coming natal day. It is always unfortunate that the 20th of January is right at the end of holiday sale season and not to mention, the holiday itself. This only means, more money spent and less money in the kitty for the birthday celebration. It is tempting to dab my greedy fingers into my savings but the prudent in me says "only if you promise to eat out less". I thought it's sensible.



Long time ago, my mother would wake up at 4:30 am to prepare breakfast for my classmates. It was the time of "mananita" where we, then kids battled dogs, the creepy darkness and the hyperactive imagination of demonic entities lurking in pitch black alleys. For years, we trundled all over town to gather the troops who'd be responsible for waking up neighbours with the uncoordinated singing and pitchy harmony. As I look back now, it was innocent fun; it was unadulterated joy.

Years rolled on by, the palate got more exotic and happiness stake was at its highest. People lifted flutes for toasts and intoxication was a norm. I once stood up the table at Planet Hollywood years ago as mass singing ensued. It was flustering but fun. Well wishers came and conceivably, gone.

Birthdays, although shared is always personal. Some prefer to get wasted (on the day until the next day or a week in fact). As for me, this is my moment of harmonising with mortality. It is understanding what makes my foundation as a person. I will mull over the joy with few good friends, lessons from life and past lovers, career direction and family (partner included). A gift-wrapped present is a bonus.

eureka

I LOVE ALEXA CHUNG!

the race is on (Oscars)

So this is the "critics'" choice. And the hoi polloi's choice is?????