<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109</id><updated>2009-10-28T16:08:43.143+08:00</updated><title type='text'>in transit</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>182</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-5189082148979376948</id><published>2009-10-15T10:38:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T10:46:53.534+08:00</updated><title type='text'>blues-y</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"  class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I want to spend my birthday alone this year.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;By that I mean a lot of time away from family, friends, loved one. I will be a stranger among strangers, hiding away in anonymity (as if hahabulin ng paparazzi haha). &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;"  class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"  style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I think I need this – to feel a sense of independence, to know for sure that I can be who I am without the usual people around me. To be honest, I’ve been craving for this for years. This desire to break away. I get it at random moments. I vividly remember a time when I was sitting in a jeepney on Buendia, and I wanted to literally fly through the window and just go far, far away. Of course I was stuck between office workers and men in &lt;i style=""&gt;sando&lt;/i&gt; until I alighted in front of RCBC, but I will never forget that feeling. That was me, on a cliff, wanting desperately – excitedly – to fly off the edge.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  lang="EN-GB" &gt;It's not that I'm unhappy. I actually find it hard to accept that at almost 27 years old and nearly married, I’m still looking for that part of myself that the universe hasn’t bestowed on me yet. I'm already so blessed, what is there to pine for? But I think I have to face the fact that the search for myself isn't over. I think I have to live with it, and keep moving forward.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-5189082148979376948?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/5189082148979376948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=5189082148979376948' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/5189082148979376948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/5189082148979376948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2009/10/blues-y.html' title='blues-y'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-803744475523838262</id><published>2009-10-15T09:53:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T10:16:48.153+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><title type='text'>these dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;I had a dream last night, about J. Or I think that’s who it was, because it didn’t really look like him. But I know what I felt: “this is my ex.” Maybe the guy in the dream was a consolidation of all my past…men. Except that I only had one official past, and the others were just figments of my overactive imagination. But still.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;I digress. It was a strange dream, like all dreams I have about my past in general (and there are quite a few). &lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;We were in a public place. A bar? A party? Maybe. There were friends around. M was there, too, but on the other side of the room. Meanwhile, J sat across from me at a counter. So yeah maybe this was at a bar. Which is weird because I haven’t been to one in very a long time.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;We were talking, and I felt like he was a friend. Completely benign. Completely genuine. And like friends who are close to you, he held my hand while we were talking.&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;I didn’t think anything of it until it was pointed out to me by another person in the group. I thought, “what’s the big deal?” &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;I retracted my hand anyway. &lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;The next scene found me in a separate room (still at the party?) with M. Only he didn’t look exactly like M, but sort of him plus Rob that cutie guy from the current season Pinoy Big Brother. But I knew it was him and I knew we were okay.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;Then I woke up. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;I’m not sure what it means. I’ve just about given up trying to explain my dreams. I never really get anywhere. I just know that my sanity, reason, morality and basic sense go flying out the window every time. &lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;Or maybe I should just stop watching PBB. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;"  lang="EN-GB"&gt;In other news, absence does make the heart grow fonder. I missed blogspot!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-803744475523838262?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/803744475523838262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=803744475523838262' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/803744475523838262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/803744475523838262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2009/10/these-dreams.html' title='these dreams'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-7004140459335856188</id><published>2009-06-25T00:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T00:14:02.948+08:00</updated><title type='text'>pathways</title><content type='html'>One more time (sorry Blogger, I've been neglecting you):&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/ext/share.php?sid=120196562106&amp;amp;h=aMclt&amp;amp;u=c_96_"&gt;Pathways&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-7004140459335856188?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/7004140459335856188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=7004140459335856188' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/7004140459335856188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/7004140459335856188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2009/06/pathways.html' title='pathways'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-6082544417516708873</id><published>2009-05-14T00:02:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T00:31:15.550+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the best way to learn is to teach.</title><content type='html'>What a week this has been. To think it's only Wednesday.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Deadlines and missed deadlines, unexpected meetings, absences, doctor's visit, laaaaaaaaaate nights.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;PLUS...I gave my first ever academic (?) lecture a couple of days ago. Yep. Me. Together with two colleagues, I've been asked to give a short (uber mega condensed) course on urban and regional planning to a group of architects. The very first lecture was one of the most nerve-wracking, stressful things I have ever done. It did not help that those architects are Mark's officemates. Talk about pressure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But this -- teaching,  that is -- is unequivocally also one of the most fulfilling endeavors I have ever undertaken.  I've always (and often secretly) wanted to be a teacher. The problem was that I have always been the shy one, which everybody mistook for snobbish, sorry. I did try out, once upon a naive time, but I failed miserably because I could not get my words out.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Years later, I'm finding out how...easy it could be. Not a walk in a park, to be sure, just easy in the sense that it could come so naturally. I'm actually surprised, because sometimes at home I can't even get a word in edgewise -- especially with mama! Tonight was Lecture/Module 2, and it took a bit longer to finish (Planning Theory, what do you expect?),  but I'm getting and more comfortable. Can't wait for the next one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Len's right, it's like a drug. One of the best parts is thinking of ways to make the sessions interesting and fun.  That and seeing people engaged in discussion, participating, learning from one another. I really think that I thrive in an environment of constant learning, so to be able to facilitate that kind of activity is heaven for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If the universe permits, I would love to be able to do this for the rest of my life. Hear me out, U. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-6082544417516708873?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/6082544417516708873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=6082544417516708873' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/6082544417516708873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/6082544417516708873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2009/05/best-way-to-learn-is-to-teach.html' title='the best way to learn is to teach.'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-4125111829077883939</id><published>2009-04-24T10:10:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T10:19:31.617+08:00</updated><title type='text'>come on over</title><content type='html'>My few fans, hop on over to my &lt;a href="http://bebembap.wordpress.com/"&gt;wedding/whatever blog&lt;/a&gt; and my &lt;a href="http://laratogonon.wordpress.com"&gt;"serious" blog&lt;/a&gt; for more thrills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I am not leaving blogger - I hold this sanctuary near and dear to my heart - but Wordpress works better in the office (hooray for wasted corporate hours) and it's kinda cool (blogger admin please don't delete my account or give me a virus out of spite, for I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;do &lt;/span&gt;love you). Anyhow, I might be cross-posting my entries, as soon as I know how (wonder when that will be, nuninu)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For "protected" posts, I'll give out the passwords when I'm ready. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you there. You know you love me. xoxo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-4125111829077883939?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/4125111829077883939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=4125111829077883939' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/4125111829077883939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/4125111829077883939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2009/04/come-on-over.html' title='come on over'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-1999527450688309377</id><published>2009-03-09T11:35:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T13:04:11.142+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Eraserheads: The Final Set</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Impromptu. AS IN. Really wasn’t supposed to go anymore. A few days ago we had decided that if we didn’t get free passes to the concert, we would go to Intramuros instead for the World War II commemoration at &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;Fort&lt;/st1:placetype&gt; &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;Santiago&lt;/st1:placename&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;. Not sure why, maybe coz I felt like I couldn’t accept anything less than front row after the last concert hahaha, or nagi-guilty ako about the expenses. Plus the Intramuros event sounded really good (picnic and music and exhibits and such – geekdom yeesss. And Carlos Celdran was going to be there!). &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;By lunchtime Saturday, I had informed my friends that I couldn’t get the free tickets. So I thought that was that. &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;At 7pm, Mark and I were hanging out at PICC after a busy day of wedding preps (booked caterer and bridal car yey). Mark suddenly said, “&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Tara&lt;/st1:place&gt; nood tayo.” &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Who was I to object? Hahahaha. So calls were made, an ecstatic Camille was whisked to MOA by clueless Tito Sel (sikat ba yang Eheads na yan?”), and 10 minutes later I still could not believe we were driving to MOA. The traffic! The people! Will we make it? The countdown, we’re going to miss the first song! Whhhyyyyy did we decide to do this? Gaaaaah. On our way we got texts and calls from Len (already inside, dami na tao), Rhea (dining with Ajeet at Icebergs, already bought tickets), and Cherry (nagpapabili ng tickets, still in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Cavite&lt;/st1:city&gt; en route to &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Manila&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;!). Was unable to contact Shiva, until finally I got through and learned she was in the theater watching Watchmen. Whuut?&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I was in line for tickets at 15 past 7. Had them in my hands at 8:30. Soooooo many (restless) people were still queuing. All I could think was, malas. They were going to miss at least the first half. I sprinted to the concert grounds where Mark and Camille were waiting, outside Silver A. I learned I had already missed the first three songs. Bwiset. Get in, get in! &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Then boom. Sea of people. You know when you’re assaulted by this mélange of sounds and sights and smells and you just go, whoa. But hey, this was it, we had to dive in. Grabe. Ang LAPIT namin - sa screen, hahahahaha! This was definitely not SVIP. Boo. I couldn’t even see the goddamn stage. Just people people people everywhere. We squeezed in, found a spot right beneath the screen (stiff neck ito), and stood our ground for the next two hours.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The vibe was definitely different – eons away – from the last concert. The last was so extremely tension-filled, everyone was holding their breath. This time, the four guys onstage seemed to tell us, hey, just chill. &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And we did. We just enjoyed watching them have fun up there. They carried the mood throughout. It was so light and laidback I felt like I was at the UP Fair, kicking back and relishing the moment. When they went back after the encore performance and sang three more songs "for the road" everyone was like, "orayt, let's rock on." So relaxed. Good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;The way they performed was also not just an acknowledgment of what they were as Ehaads, but of who they are now. Marcus taking the mic with his fun rendition of Huwag Mo Nang Itanong, and Raimund completely filling the stage for three songs (hmm, did not like his Alkohol as much), and all the other moments that made them shine individually that night told us that each of them has a full, complete life beyond the Eheads, and they look like they’re enjoying it. So should we.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And Ely and Raimund singing together, man…there &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is &lt;/span&gt;a friendship there, a bond, some form of connection or whatever you wish to call it - something that will endure, despite the difficult times, going separate ways, and the obvious fact that they can’t share a stage longer than two hours. Such a thrill. What a statement.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I felt so happy for them, for finally accepting that Eheads indeed was and still is part of history – Ely declaring “We are the Eraserheads” was truly a pivotal moment – and for embracing the love that their fans continue to give them. More importantly, for they way they’ve matured and moved forward and, even more importantly, for loving music the way they do. &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;It was a bittersweet symphony, an apt ending to a beautiful chapter in our interwoven, music-filled lives. Now it's time to flip the page.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I think that The Final Set was a lesson for all of us: to love them as Eheads, yes, but also to accept the journey that they are on today. It’s the same one we’re taking I guess, because we can’t be 15 forever. We’re all growing up, all moving on somehow, and coming into our own. It’s comforting to know we will always have their music – past, present, future – to take with us on the road. The Eheads will, after all, live forever.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;...magkahawak ang ating kamay at walang kamalay-malay, na tinuruan mo ang puso ko na umibig nang tunay...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-1999527450688309377?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/1999527450688309377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=1999527450688309377' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/1999527450688309377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/1999527450688309377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2009/03/eraserheads-final-set.html' title='Eraserheads: The Final Set'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-55637427046354903</id><published>2008-12-17T14:47:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T14:58:29.094+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the office'/><title type='text'>Parallel Universe 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;I guess what makes The Office work is that it’s so real. I keep saying this. Not because it’s made ‘documentary’ style, but because it is founded on some very basic, palpable truths.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;Every office around the world is different. But somehow, the show managed to touch on what was the same. The writers based some of their stories on their experiences working for General Electric, and right there you can be sure that they didn’t just dream up the scenarios. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;We’ve always known that commonplace is often funnier than complicated plotlines. Sometimes even Friends writers forgot this, and they ended up with an exhausting 30 minutes about Ross and his stupid monkey. The Office’s premises can be outrageous and amplified sometimes, but they get away with it because they treat it so matter-of-factly.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;Funny is everyday life, seen from a certain vantage point (a single camera with great zoom, perhaps?). Funny is catching people’s reactions after an officemate’s emotional outburst. Not all reactions consist of an exaggerated frozen gape while the studio audience laughs. No one does that in real life anyway especially when a furrowed brow would be sufficient. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;Everyday life is sad, poignant, heartwarming, bittersweet, awkward, sincere, and so many other things. The show captures this range of emotions so beautifully in such a simple way: just by watching the characters. In the foreground, background, to the side, wherever they are. They don’t even need to speak – because in reality sometimes our words belie how we really feel. The show understands that the devil is in the detail, and that the whole weight of an emotion can be seen literally in the blink of an eye, or a quiet sigh or a pause between sentences. The show delivers these subtleties and nuances perfectly. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Props also to the actors who truly understand the material they’re working with. The characters of The Office are so well developed that during shooting the actors do their own stuff in the background for hours, with the single camera catching them only once in while, and they &lt;i style=""&gt;never&lt;/i&gt; miss a beat.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:10;"&gt;What can I say? I love the show. If you haven’t seen it then go grab a DVD. That’s what she said.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-55637427046354903?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/55637427046354903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=55637427046354903' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/55637427046354903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/55637427046354903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/12/parallel-universe-2.html' title='Parallel Universe 2'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-1445922909729959300</id><published>2008-12-17T10:30:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T13:23:13.902+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the office'/><title type='text'>Parallel Universe</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Last weekend, my Kris KringleMommy/Daddy &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;(Secret Santa) gave me Seasons 1-3 of The Office (US). I haven’t slept since then. Solb na ako ngayong Pasko.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;There are very few TV sitcoms that catch my attention. I grew up watching Friends and Cheers, so my standards have always been high hahaha. Comedy I think is the hardest to do; the writers have to be consistently brilliant. More than that, they have to know the difference between brilliant and crazy stupid. There’s a very thin line. If you don’t see that, you start to become self-absorbed, and the show basically implodes. I stopped watching Ally McBeal when its writers crossed that line. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;That said, The Office is a brilliant show. I had my doubts when it first came out, seeing that the original &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;UK&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; version was so widely successful. But this tiny show about a mid-sized paper company in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Scranton&lt;/st1:city&gt;, &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;Pennsylvania&lt;/st1:state&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; shines all the way through, from Michael Scott’s antics, Pam and Jim’s romance, Dwight’s sucking up, and even Angela’s turtlenecks. I tried to catch as much as I could on cable, but until last weekend I hadn’t been able to watch the episodes in the right succession. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;(This is going to be a long entry with at least two parts, so be prepared.)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;One of the very few reasons why I go to work day in and day out is that I find highly entertaining the obvious parallelisms about my office and The Office. It amuses me no end. Sometime I catch myself smirking at the thought, only there’s no camera to look at when I do it, like Jim often does. I’m surveying my desk now and seeing Dwight’s bobble heads in the form of my miniature Cinderella statue, an elephant keychain, an Irishman magnet, a Matchbox Beetle and a stuffed Funshine Bear. My phone is a Cisco (imagine how thrilled I was when our MIS first brought the phones in. I have to say, though, it’s not the easiest thing to navigate. Pam’s a whiz at transferring calls). &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I work for a branch of a multi-office company. With more than 70 offices worldwide, we’re a little bigger than Dunder Mifflin’s Northeast US-based company. But the structure is the same: regional office composed of a few local staff and headed by a local guy, once-in-a-blue-moon visits from corporate executives with whom we have conflicting views on how business is run, and very little budget. Our former receptionist had a secret office romance with one of our business development guys – I say former because they got married and left the country (wonder if that will happen to PB&amp;amp;J*). I have an officemate who pulls pranks on co-workers &lt;i style=""&gt;a lot&lt;/i&gt;, except he’s not tall and cute like Jim (hah! Sorry friend!). My cube mates and I play rock-paper-scissors, and whoever loses makes orange juice for the winner. I have become an expert OJ maker. We bet a lot over inane things like Tagalog-English translations and Harry Potter trivia. The loser usually serves the winner snacks for an entire week or buys coffee at Starbucks, except we don’t call it ‘Bucks like Michael Scott** does. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The layout of our office makes us open for attack by our boss. By attack I mean the way Michael swaggers in and makes pointless announcements to the entire staff in his booming voice. Most of the time he gets blank looks and the occasional “Uhh, okay.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;My desk faces a corner, so whenever our boss comes over, I always jump out of my skin because he surprises me from behind. I’m too lazy to swivel my chair to face him, so when we talk it’s like I’m talking to my PC monitor. Lack of respect? Possibly. He doesn’t seem to mind talking to the back of my head.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Sexism, racism, ageism and all kinds of bigotry? Check. Asshole boss who likes to crack humorless jokes, tells stripper and mistress stories at a table full of women and talks crass all the effin time? Check. The uptight accountant/admin officer who acts like a Nazi? Oh, and the boss who gets told off by bigger bosses from the head office, and takes it out on his staff like an immature, selfish, ignorant child. Or the staff who look at each other knowingly when the boss speaks nonsense, and afterward in a subtle, inside-joke way puts him in his place via a small remark and eye-rolling. Or the motivational meetings and workshops that take up the whole afternoon, and the expensive office dinners even when the entire company is in the process of downsizing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The boss showing up at an after-office party to which he was intentionally &lt;i style=""&gt;not&lt;/i&gt; invited (you notice I make a lot of reference to the boss). The missent emails and careless comments about a gay officemate, emergency staff meetings about the broken printer and dirty toilet &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;(conference room, everyone!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;, quitting your job and then returning, and your job being…just that.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Because right now, this is a job. If I advance any higher, this would be my career. And if this were my career, I'd have to throw myself in front of a train. - Jim Halpert)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I could go on and on and on, but it all comes down to one thing. The Office is very real. As real as the list of phone line extensions taped to your PC, and your pink and green Post-it notes. As real as carpal tunnel syndrome, extended coffee breaks and solitaire on a slow day. As real as the annoying sound of tapping computer keys when you have a headache, or your very strong urge to hurl a shoe at a certain office door. Now I see the sheer genius behind the show’s mockumentary style –&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;no canned laughter, no background music save for a constantly ringing phone and the occasional office karaoke. No predictable puns or storylines &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Did I wake up this morning thinking I’d be throwing together a bird funeral? You never can tell what your day here is gonna turn into. – Pam Beesly). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;No frills. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Just a regular day at The Office. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To be continued.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;*PB&amp;amp;J aka Pam Beesly and Jim (Halpert), receptionist and sales associate, respectively. Also known as JAM (Jim+Pam). Jim hangs out at the reception desk all the time. I remember my officemate sitting by the reception desk all the time. I thought he was just bored. Well, that, too. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;** Michael Scott, regional manager &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-1445922909729959300?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/1445922909729959300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=1445922909729959300' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/1445922909729959300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/1445922909729959300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/12/parallel-universe.html' title='Parallel Universe'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-7811156024578722194</id><published>2008-11-14T10:42:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T10:46:05.052+08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE MILLION HECTARE WALK 2008 - Haribon Foundation</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;!-- begin content --&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xarJh85PXlk/SRzl5S-na9I/AAAAAAAAAFI/34VwCCaVhg8/s1600-h/MHW08.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 108px; height: 221px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xarJh85PXlk/SRzl5S-na9I/AAAAAAAAAFI/34VwCCaVhg8/s400/MHW08.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268338436626410450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;The Million Hectare Walk is an event which aims to  raise funds through pledges. Every lap completed by a &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Walker&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; is sponsored by  family and friends’ pledges. Walkers can take the long route (1.5 km) or the  short route (360 meters).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are cordially invited to walk with us on  November 16 Sunday at 6:00-11:00 am to help restore our natural forests. Join  the Million Hectare Walk at the Ninoy Aquino Parks and Wildlife Center in Quezon  City and support ROAD* to 2020 as we walk to generate pledges to raise awareness  and resources to restore one million hectares of our natural forests using  native tree species by year 2020. Form a team to walk together, enlist family  members and friends, and solicit pledges to support your laps to raise funds to  plant more native trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Registration fees per walker at P250 for kids  and for Haribon Members, and P300 for non-members, will cover a t-shirt and bag.  Pledges start at P75. To register and/or for details, please call 4211213 or  4244642, 09228159235 or 09228151942, or email  act@haribon.org.ph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Download forms:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="http://www.haribon.org.ph/forms/HF%20Registration%20Form%20year2.pdf" href="http://www.haribon.org.ph/forms/HF%20Registration%20Form%20year2.pdf"&gt;Registration  form&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="http://www.haribon.org.ph/forms/HF%20Pledge%20Form%20Year%202.pdf" href="http://www.haribon.org.ph/forms/HF%20Pledge%20Form%20Year%202.pdf"&gt;Pledge  form&lt;/a&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:10;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:navy;"   &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:Arial;font-size:10;color:navy;"   &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:navy;"   &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:Arial;font-size:10;color:navy;"   &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:navy;"   &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:Arial;font-size:10;color:navy;"   &gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-7811156024578722194?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/7811156024578722194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=7811156024578722194' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/7811156024578722194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/7811156024578722194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/11/million-hectare-walk-2008.html' title='THE MILLION HECTARE WALK 2008 - Haribon Foundation'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xarJh85PXlk/SRzl5S-na9I/AAAAAAAAAFI/34VwCCaVhg8/s72-c/MHW08.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-1932834296167474626</id><published>2008-11-10T19:57:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T19:57:45.721+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Oh, and I might be bipolar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-1932834296167474626?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/1932834296167474626/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=1932834296167474626' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/1932834296167474626'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/1932834296167474626'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/11/oh-and-i-might-be-bipolar.html' title=''/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-8928195597588160226</id><published>2008-11-10T19:54:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T19:56:41.702+08:00</updated><title type='text'>another one of those nights</title><content type='html'>If you're an Aries, never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever marry another Aries. Ever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-8928195597588160226?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/8928195597588160226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=8928195597588160226' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/8928195597588160226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/8928195597588160226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/11/another-one-of-those-nights.html' title='another one of those nights'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-3190082941324727674</id><published>2008-11-03T16:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T16:28:42.686+08:00</updated><title type='text'>:D</title><content type='html'>I had the best Halloween. Ever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-3190082941324727674?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/3190082941324727674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=3190082941324727674' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/3190082941324727674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/3190082941324727674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/11/d.html' title=':D'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-3136747696995696182</id><published>2008-10-30T14:47:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T14:50:41.474+08:00</updated><title type='text'>hay</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://foodstyling-manila.com/blog/?p=510"&gt;Bourdain in Manila&lt;/a&gt;. Why was Juday there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He also went to Cebu. Prolly ate lechon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They said he got drunk on San Mig. Hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The episode will air in Asia in 2010. Anubah. Thank god for youtube!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-3136747696995696182?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/3136747696995696182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=3136747696995696182' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/3136747696995696182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/3136747696995696182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/10/hay.html' title='hay'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-3398956415568561076</id><published>2008-10-30T14:32:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T14:36:42.358+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tony</title><content type='html'>Anthony Bourdain was in the Philippines last week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I cannot believe I did not know this. I learned about it today when I checked Cafe Ysabel's website for their menus, and I saw a photo of him at the restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-3398956415568561076?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/3398956415568561076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=3398956415568561076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/3398956415568561076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/3398956415568561076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/10/tony.html' title='Tony'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-5727842112486963418</id><published>2008-10-29T11:45:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T11:17:32.850+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dreams'/><title type='text'>dream sequence '08</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I was riding a jeepney on the SLEX service road, presumably on my way home. For some reason I was in a conversation with a stranger, and again for some unknown reason it was very clear to me that he was Atenean. Maybe a jock, not sure. He had a huge torso. Anyway, the jeep finally stopped, and I found myself at the lobby of my old school, UP &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Manila&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;. It was suddenly raining, &lt;i style=""&gt;very hard&lt;/i&gt;. The rain looked like sheets of water falling from the dark sky. Was it nighttime? It was dark everywhere. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I wanted desperately to get a ride home. I needed to go upstairs – I don’t know why but this seemed the way out – but I was extremely afraid. Like there were ghosts waiting for me somewhere in the dark. I saw Ms Jing, one of our consultants, and asked her &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;to come upstairs with me. We did, and again for some reason I ended up in a sort of bay area for vehicles. It was still dark and raining, A jeepney stopped by and I jumped in. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I arrived home, finally. I looked into my parents’ room and saw my brother sleeping face down on the pillows. I went into another room and saw Edward Norton, circa American History X. Muscles and tattoos and all. He looked like a live version of grayscale magazine print ad, meaning he was a glossy gray color. He was sitting on one of the two beds in the room, writing furiously in what looked like a journal. He was writing about his mentally challenged brother. I moved away from him and went to the bathroom. The toilet was full of rust, and there was no water and no tissue. I went back to Edward’s spot and saw his brother instead. He was reading Edward’s journal. I thought, yikes, busted. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;At that point I think I woke up. Very physically tired, and puffy-eyed. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Obviously, my strange dreams are back. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Kainis.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; I don’t like these dreams of mine. They seem so senseless. The thing is they’re not. I believe they do mean something. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;But I don’t have anyone to help me interpret them. So hello, internet. Yes, not very reliable, but neither are the books on dreams proliferating in stores nowadays. And I was curious and impatient. I wanted to be placated and humored. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Anyway, since there’s no way to have my dream “analyzed” without paying a fee (and I never would), I resorted to pulling out key concepts and browsing through the “dream dictionary” for available definitions (very scientific hahaha). Thus: &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;(from petrix.com)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Road.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Achievement of something. Direction. Ask yourself about your life's path.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Stranger.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Outsider. Unknown. Mystery needs to be revealed.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Dark. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Mystery. The unknown and unformed. A place of fear or of potential. Difficulties ahead.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;School.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Discipline. Instruction. You have the skills to resolve a problem.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Rain.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Release. Feelings are pouring down on you.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Stairs.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Up or down. Aspirations. Looking to get to certain point against all opposition.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Fear.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Unexpressed love. Self-doubts. Courage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Ghost&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;. Spiritual aspect of self. Memory. Past coming back. Beware of enemies.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Vehicles.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Transportation. Movement. Looking for a medium to get where you want to be.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Home&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;. Center of being. Spiritual self. Shelter. Basic need fulfilled. Happiness within the family.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Bed.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Retreat from activity. Rest. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Brother.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Fellowship. Expect quarrels. Masculine aspect of self.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sleeping.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Relaxation and rest. Unconsciousness. False security.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Back &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;"&gt;(because it was my brother's back I saw)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Misfortune in life and will die in misery &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(whaaaaaat?)&lt;/span&gt;. Unconscious.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Bedroom.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Changes in own affairs. Concealment of family secrets.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Writing.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Communication. Review of your feelings. Record of experience.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Reading&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Learning. Information revealed. Escape from reality. Something burdens you.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;Rust.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; Deterioration. Inactivity. Problems that need to be taken care before it's too late.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;So how about that? Does it make sense now?  Except for the bits &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;on the jeepney being the specific vehicle, Ateneo, Ms Jing and Edward Norton, the explanations have frightening potential.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I ran across another term and remembered I’ve had several dreams (not this particular dream, though) about making pupu.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;i style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Defecation&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;Elimination. Dumping, especially of garbage from the past.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;It seems I do more work dealing with my “issues” in my dreams than in real life.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-5727842112486963418?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/5727842112486963418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=5727842112486963418' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/5727842112486963418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/5727842112486963418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/10/dream-sequence-08.html' title='dream sequence &apos;08'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-4552536035033343761</id><published>2008-10-27T17:20:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T10:25:35.330+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the office'/><title type='text'>pm break</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;16.27. I go to the office pantry to take a break from doing nothing. Iced coffee sounds nice. I check, no clean glasses. Ok, normal coffee then. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;s&gt;Black&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/s&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; No cream, lots of sugar. I sit on a stool by the window, enjoying the warm respite from my ultra-cold spot directly under the overhead AC. I look to my right, at the condiments all lined up neatly, courtesy of our utility guy who shares my surname. I think, given time, I could really finish that entire bottle of iodized salt. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Clouds move in and cover the light streaming into the window. An officemate walks in. “&lt;i style=""&gt;May tao&lt;/i&gt; (anyone inside)?” he asks, pointing to the bathroom beside the sink. I shake my head and smile. He goes in, probably wondering what I’m doing in the pantry. Because no one hangs out there alone unless he or she is waiting in line for the bathroom, right? &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I say to myself, no one in this office really knows me. They “know” me –&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;my name and what I do and the general perception of me, but not much else. They don’t know that I like to drink coffee &lt;/span&gt;&lt;s&gt;black&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/s&gt; no cream &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;with lots of sugar, or that I can spend an hour sitting and drinking coffee alone, staring at the sky. And surely they don’t know why. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;There are probably two or three people here who do know me. They’re the only ones I’d actually consider inviting to my wedding. I think weddings not because I’m having one myself, but because as one grows older you realize it’s one of those events where you really think about who you want to surround yourself with, people who share your truest, deepest joy and understand the meaning of that special glitter in your eyes. Not just anyone.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not just because you’re obligated to tack that generic wedding invitation on the office bulletin board, and then guess who will actually be attending.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Two or three people are enough, maybe. But it goes to show how, despite the fun times, the laughter and the friendly bickering, talking about work and movies and politics, that the office is still such an impersonal, almost manufactured environment. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Except that I hear my officemate pissing in the bathroom, which is such a…personal matter. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Before he opens the door and is embarrassed at the sight of me, I stand up, place my cup in the sink and make my way through our red maze known as cubicles. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Back to my cold spot. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Back to looking like everyone else and thinking how f*cking delicious it would be to break free.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Who knows, maybe that’s what they’re thinking, too.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-4552536035033343761?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/4552536035033343761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=4552536035033343761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/4552536035033343761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/4552536035033343761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/10/pm-break.html' title='pm break'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-2439364501927109449</id><published>2008-10-27T11:46:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T17:48:46.410+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Homecomings, Conventions</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;You know you’re getting old when you look forward to ballroom dancing at graduate school reunions. Which is exactly how I was at the UP-School of Urban and Regional Planning (UP-SURP) Grand Alumni Homecoming. Given that I only graduated last year and I'm *only* 26, I shouldn’t have been as excited as, say, EnP Ted Encarnacion, one of SURP’s first ever graduates (batch ’69). But I &lt;i style=""&gt;was &lt;/i&gt;excited. I couldn’t help it! I had a blast. It was fun seeing classmates, professors and older alumni let their hair down and get jiggy with it! From Dr Bravo’s &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dyosa &lt;/span&gt;look, Sir Mel Luna’s electric dancing, to Jed’s wavy Harry-Potter-just-fought-Voldemort hair, Cherry with San Mig in hand (classic!), and everyone else laughing and enjoying, well, it was worth the wait. Oh and let us not forget the biggest revelation that night. &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Edison&lt;/st1:place&gt; can dance! And how! He can whip up a mean swing number, my goodness. We will never hire a DI again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;The Homecoming was such a success that when I told Sir Tomi (president of our Alumni Association), "see you next year!" he answered in his typical endearing, flamboyant way, "no, see you in December!" An Alumni Christmas party? Indeed, see you all then!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;For me, the event started way before the night itself. A couple of months earlier, Prof Jimenez and, subsequently, Dr Bravo ‘commissioned’ EnPraxis to produce the souvenir program for the event. I thought it would be a snap since I’ve had long experience in layout and publication. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Well it was, kind of, it’s just that it coincided with another souvenir program we were doing  -- this time for the Philippine Institute of Environmental Planners (PIEP) National Convention, which was held a week before the Homecoming. Not to mention the other pre-Convention preparations i.e. follow-up of speakers and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;invitations to participants&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;; tarpaulin, ID and logo designs; convention kits; powerpoint presentations; venue checks and food-tasting; and I have to mention it’s a good thing Ma’am Liza listened when I told her to get rid of that nasty-ugly styrofoam PIEP seal! Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Speaking of the Convention, that went down well, too. It was much better organized than the previous years' conventions (thanks in part to us hahaha), but it doesn't mean there weren't knots to be untied and kinks to be ironed out backstage. Photofinish pa rin in a way. But I'm glad the cool was kept. ;) We were happy to be there, if only to help take the load off Ma'am Liza and Ms Arlene.  &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I digress. So…between those two events, we were short of biting off more than we can chew. Before I knew it I was spending &lt;i style=""&gt;days&lt;/i&gt; in front of the computer, missing work and getting horribly sick. Not a day had passed after the Convention and we had already moved on to the next task. Two days before the Homecoming I was living off coffee and sleeping a mere 20 minutes. I also felt guilty for dragging Len, Chris, Edison, Vir and Lorenzo down this road with me hehe. Mark doesn’t count because he has no choice. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;But I do think it paid off quite nicely. Like Len said, we have arrived (hmm, how many times have we arrived na ba? hahahahaha). It’s fun to be acknowledged for doing something nice. To be introduced to our peers in such a positive way. And the full-page ad in the Homecoming program sure doesn’t hurt hahaha. Ultimately, though, it feels great to have done something truly worthwhile, something you were passionate about and believed in. We do believe in our school and in our professional organization, and I’m glad we were able to contribute in some small way to the success of their much-awaited and labored-upon events. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I would do everything again in a heartbeat. But maybe not simultaneously!  :o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*photos &lt;a href="http://larababeh.multiply.com/photos/album/47/UP_School_of_Urban_and_Regional_Planning_Grand_Alumni_Homecoming"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. Len's takes on our fun "Oktoberfest" &lt;a href="http://lenbarrientos.wordpress.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-2439364501927109449?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/2439364501927109449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=2439364501927109449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/2439364501927109449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/2439364501927109449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/10/homecomings-conventions.html' title='Homecomings, Conventions'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-4736552344663216760</id><published>2008-10-06T23:03:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T23:17:11.369+08:00</updated><title type='text'>random, but not really</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am tired. Simply tired. The past month has not been good to me. As the days and weeks went by, I kept feeling more and more alone. Except for Mark, reasons to push myself to the limit and be better and hopeful have becme harder to find. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Or maybe that’s the problem. I’d pushed myself so much I actually fell off.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But I don’t believe that, really. I won’t make excuses for myself or anyone and say ‘oh I worked too hard, I just need to relax.’ Everybody works hard. Everyone gets sleepless nights. Everyone forgets to eat at some point in the day and struggles to remember which of the things on his/her list has not been done yet.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;No. Because I can be physically exhausted, sure. But I know how it is to be tired in a good, delicious way, like when you sink into a couch and think to yourself, it was back-breaking but hey, I did good and it was all worth it. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It doesn’t feel that way now – you know, worth it. Instead, it just feels all kinds of defeated.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The problem, I think, is the steadily creeping disappointment. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;See, I’m not the person who gets angry at life. I rarely even get mad at my boyfriend, or most people, for that matter. I can debate until your tongue falls off but anger isn’t generally part of my program. I don’t get nasty either. I don’t wish other people ill. I rarely hold grudges. I don’t fire off. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But I get disappointed. Which, I believe, is far worse than any other negative emotion. Worse because it arises from expectation, from hope and faith. Worse because it fills you to the core, seeping into every crevice in your body, and leaving you not boiling in fury, but rather stoned in silent sadness. It dulls you, presses you against the earth, renders you immovable and listless.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I don’t think words are even enough to express the heaviness that I’m carrying now, this palpable weight that is just dragging me down. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;***&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;How and where I am now can be no farther from how and where I was one year ago. And not in a good way. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Was I wrong to stick it out the way I did? To be stubborn and believe blindly that it could be done? Or was my mother right all along?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;***&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Why &lt;i style=""&gt;do&lt;/i&gt; I feel disappointed? With what, or with whom?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I can’t answer that. All I know is that a part of me wants to run far away, to disappear and rebuild myself. To see if I have something else to offer. Because to be frank I’ve given it all I’ve got, and still I came up close to empty.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I still believe in the things I believe in. I just don’t know who else does. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-4736552344663216760?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/4736552344663216760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=4736552344663216760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/4736552344663216760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/4736552344663216760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/10/random-but-not-really.html' title='random, but not really'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-2203694748763532707</id><published>2008-09-12T15:11:00.013+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T16:22:52.088+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the whole problem with science</title><content type='html'>What physicists, religious critics and geeks like myself have been waiting for:&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;First beam in the LHC - accelerating science&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;A historic moment in the CERN Control Centre: the beam was successfully steered around the accelerator.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Geneva&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;, 10 September 2008. The first beam in the Large Hadron Collider at CERN (European Organization for Nuclear Research) was successfully steered around the full 27 kilometres of the world’s most powerful particle accelerator at 10h28 this morning. This historic event marks a key moment in the transition from over two decades of preparation to a new era of scientific discovery.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;cite&gt;“It’s a fantastic mo&lt;/cite&gt;&lt;cite&gt;ment,”&lt;/cite&gt; said LHC project leader Lyn Evans, &lt;cite&gt;“we can now look forward to a new era of understanding about the origins and evolution of the universe.”&lt;/cite&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Read the rest of the article &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://press.web.cern.ch/press/PressReleases/Releases2008/PR08.08E.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://press.web.cern.ch/press/PressReleases/Releases2008/PR08.08E.html"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if you actually read the article and had a slight nosebleed, Calvin has a simpler, thoughtful take on things (click to enlarge):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xarJh85PXlk/SMocHSwn1yI/AAAAAAAAAFA/EMG2TaVzMx0/s1600-h/ch920621.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xarJh85PXlk/SMocHSwn1yI/AAAAAAAAAFA/EMG2TaVzMx0/s400/ch920621.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245035627646801698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More Calvin wisdom:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;(Calvin is standing behind a box with “SCIENTIFIC NAMES: $1.00” written on it):&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Hobbes: "Scientific names?"&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Calvin: "Sure. Scientists think up all these cool, wacky theories, but then give them dull, unimaginative names. For instance, scientists think space is full of mysterious, invisible mass, so, what do they call it??? &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;Dark&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; matter! DUUHHHHHH!!! I tell you, there’s a fortune to be made here!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Calvin: Sometimes I think the surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that none of it has tried to contact us.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, I miss Calvin and Hobbes. Someone buy me the book collection please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read more about &lt;a href="http://public.web.cern.ch/public/"&gt;CERN&lt;/a&gt; and the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Large_Hadron_Collider"&gt;Large Hadron Collider&lt;/a&gt;. Check out the &lt;a href="http://ecowellness.multiply.com/video/item/822/Large_Hadron_Collider_A_whistlestop_tour"&gt;video&lt;/a&gt;, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-2203694748763532707?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/2203694748763532707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=2203694748763532707' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/2203694748763532707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/2203694748763532707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/09/problem-with-science.html' title='the whole problem with science'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xarJh85PXlk/SMocHSwn1yI/AAAAAAAAAFA/EMG2TaVzMx0/s72-c/ch920621.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-2514763436068691491</id><published>2008-09-12T11:50:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T11:57:26.286+08:00</updated><title type='text'>spiralling (to half a tablet, three times a day)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;I want to move. Far away, like to another country. For about six months, one year, tops. To study, work part-time, just &lt;i style=""&gt;be&lt;/i&gt;. I’ve been wanting to do this for as long as I can remember. And I want to do it before I get any older, get married, start a family, all that. You know, just do it, get it out of my system. Experience it without worrying about feeding children. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;I think my family needs me here. Mama’s not well, never has been, really, it’s just becoming more and more obvious now – even she can’t hide it. Alex just got well. I’ve started a company here. After two years it’s still an infant, but hey &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Rome&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt; wasn’t built in a day. I want to start another business with my mother, who needs it more than I do on an emotional and psychological level. My brother’s just basically starting his career, and might need help in some areas of it. Mark’s here. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;And oh, I have less than $700 to my name. That’s after five years of working. Can’t even buy a one-way plane ticket.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt;"&gt;So these things are pulling my head in many different directions. And I’m just about to go crazy. Again. Hello Alprazolam.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-2514763436068691491?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/2514763436068691491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=2514763436068691491' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/2514763436068691491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/2514763436068691491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/09/spiralling-to-half-tablet-three-times.html' title='spiralling (to half a tablet, three times a day)'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-3424450880921266727</id><published>2008-09-11T13:30:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T13:40:17.022+08:00</updated><title type='text'>today</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Surfed the net for pictures of &lt;a href="http://ellen.warnerbros.com/photos/2008/09/ellen_and_portias_wedding_day_6.php"&gt;Ellen and Portia’s exquisite wedding&lt;/a&gt;, and ended up at Joshua Radin’s website. He sang at the wedding a song called Today. Beautiful. So I listened to all of Joshua’s new songs and they’re all great. Mental note to search for his current and previous albums (oh my haven’t been to a music store in so long). &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Anyway, now I’m a huge fan. &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Pointless observation pala: All the celebrities and artists I like or whose work I admire, their names all start with J. John Cusack. Joshua Jackson. Jesse Bradford. Jude Law. And now Joshua Radin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;With the exception of Edward Norton. And Ellen. Whose names start with E. Hahaha! Told you, pointless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Even in real life. My friends will know that the names of the people I used to like/love/hate (haha) all start with J or E. Mark’s nickname at home is Jomark by the way. &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Hay walang kwenta ang post na ‘to hehe. Sakit pa ng tiyan ko huhu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;By &lt;a href="http://www.joshuaradin.com/"&gt;Joshua Radin:&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="highlightedText"&gt;Vegetable Car&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="bodyText"&gt;baby, you don't even know me but one day i'll get up the courage as you pass by you'll see baby, one look just might save me i need you to slow by the corner stop right in front of me till then i'll see you hopefully through i do, wish that you'd ask me to ride along it wouldn't be wrong to tell me more than i know about you she drives a vegetable car diesel mercedes green two-door i barely know who you are lisa loeb glasses i'd sure like to ask you to stay baby, i need you to save me the one thing that my heart requires is that you admire me till then i'll see you hopefully through i do, wish that you'd ask me to ride along it wouldn't be wrong to tell me more than i know about you she drives a vegetable car diesel mercedes green two-door i barely know who you are lisa loeb glasses i'd sure like to ask you to stay how do i know why the sight of you makes me weak each time i see you turn on to my street your hair is always up in a bun this girl's the one she drives a vegetable car diesel mercedes green two-door i barely know who you are lisa loeb glasses i'd sure like to ask you to stay don't go&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-3424450880921266727?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/3424450880921266727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=3424450880921266727' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/3424450880921266727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/3424450880921266727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/09/today.html' title='today'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-4962050502016914169</id><published>2008-09-08T16:49:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T17:18:28.080+08:00</updated><title type='text'>walang aalis</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Found a comment on a recent article/post about the Eheads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"we love the eraserheads.  kahit ilan beses kayo bumalik at magdisband, may manonood pa rin sa inyo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;take your time.  andito lang kaming lahat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aww.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-4962050502016914169?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/4962050502016914169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=4962050502016914169' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/4962050502016914169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/4962050502016914169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/09/walang-aalis.html' title='walang aalis'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-5543034924526642589</id><published>2008-09-01T17:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T17:22:28.316+08:00</updated><title type='text'>083008 photos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://larababeh.multiply.com/photos/album/46/Eraserheads_The_Reunion"&gt;concert photos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-5543034924526642589?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/5543034924526642589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=5543034924526642589' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/5543034924526642589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/5543034924526642589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/09/083008-photos.html' title='083008 photos'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-5916335105989055033</id><published>2008-08-31T01:50:00.007+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-31T22:38:38.286+08:00</updated><title type='text'>waiting to exhale</title><content type='html'>What do you do when you're extremely happy and at the same time heartbroken? I don't know. Don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The much-awaited Eraserheads reunion concert ended for me, and I think for most of us, on such a strange note. Quite hard to explain. To say that the Eraserheads reunion concert was a rollercoaster ride is an understatement. The gamut of emotions felt last night cannot be fully expressed here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I first got wind of the concert from my brother's friend Jaemark, whose blog I usually stalk. Apparently the rumors took a life of their own, mostly through the net, and the build-up was the most intense I have ever seen for any concert. More than talk and speculation, there was just so much emotion invested in this event. Simply because we're talking about the &lt;em&gt;Eraserheads&lt;/em&gt;. The single most loved phenomenon in the local music industry of this generation. I was about 13 years old when the Eheads were peaking. I've never actually owned an Eheads CD, and until last night I had never been to any of their concerts. But I, like any other sane Pinoy of my age group, &lt;em&gt;absolutely loved them&lt;/em&gt;. They are so much a part of contemporary culture , and their songs brought and continue to bring to life what we mortals only thought and felt. They truly are the soundtrack to our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there it was, for the past month this great big sleeping giant was slowly waking up. And after all that hoopla with Philip Morris, we learned that it was truly pushing through. I bought my tickets at Greenbelt 1 as soon as I could last Thursday. Psyched myself up (as if we could surpass the already immense excitement) by playing Eheads songs at work. Texted people I thought would be coming. I myself was going with Mark, Camille and Len, but I was hoping to meet others there as well (stretching my luck was more like it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Saturday we were all pumped up and ready to go. I went to SURP, after which I went back home to get the car, and fetched Camille who was at a fieldtrip in Manila. By this time Mark, Len and I had found ourselves stuck in traffic, under pouring rain, and constantly checking the radiator in fear of overheating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What else could go wrong?" was what we kept asking ourselves and each other. Which really meant, what could possibly go wrong during the concert? I mean, this was an Eheads concert, and an extraordinary one at that. Anything could happen. We were almost sure there would be a stampede. Or that the rains would transfer to Makati and drench us all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But none of those happened. Instead, we were, as if by magic, given SVIP passes. Yessss! I never even thought there was something better than VIP. I said goodbye to my Patron tickets, and proceeded to grab free "pa-demure" sandwiches served on trays by waiters, plus drinks. SVIP - whatever it means - definitely rocks. Too bad I couldn't get Shiva in. Sowi. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the band (are they still a band? they most definitely were tonight) came out after a riveting countdown, it was just...stunning. They looked so sharp, so present, so alive. They were together. Onstage. Singing songs as a band once again. For everyone there, this was a dream come true. This was history.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Len noticed Buddy taking several deep breaths right before they sang the first song, and we knew that they wanted this to work out perfectly. We all did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It &lt;em&gt;was &lt;/em&gt;perfect, really (they sang With A Smile, which basically made my night). It was going so well. Then Ely took a pause after Lightyears (tama ba?) and sat down on the floor. After that they went to intermission for more than thirty minutes, and never came back as a complete group. Instead, Ely's sister read a message saying his brother had been rushed to the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, just silence. Palpable silence, silence in our minds and hearts. It was as if reality had been yanked from underneath us and we were all suspended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like I said, anything could happen. Something was bound to happen, and we suspect everyone in the audience felt it right from the beginning. We sensed something was very wrong when Quark and Mich Dulce and everyone else in their, hmm, posse, started to leave. After that, the crew started packing the instruments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We just didn't want to entertain the thought, I guess. Long after the announcement, we were still in various states of denial. We lingered at the venue for nearly an hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that night Len pointed out how this concert was, for her, supposed to bring closure to the Eheads saga, a definitive event that would tell us all where they stand, wherever that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we didn't get that ending. That's how it felt for me, unfinished. Just like when they broke up. It was as if someone/something is telling us that there isn't any period to the story yet; &lt;em&gt;wala pa ring tuldok, gustuhin man nating lahat para na rin sa kapanatagan ng loob. Pero wala eh. &lt;/em&gt;It's like we've been inhaling for such a long time, and we haven't let the air out yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is not to say we weren't content. The fact that they were standing onstage together was amazing already, and the 15 songs were more than enough. We didn't even expect them to perform for more than 45 minutes. First song pa lang, sulit na.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's the strange thing, this mixture of emotion. The highs and lows in a single blow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More than anything, we pray for Ely's recovery. Last time I checked he was stable. Thank God. I heard they were set to do 30 songs, and according to Manong Railing (the burly male staff by the railing separating us from the stage) they were supposed to take breaks every 10th song, but Ely pushed it. His health finally gave in after the 15th song. Was thinking maybe he felt he &lt;em&gt;had &lt;/em&gt;to push as far as he could, because the moment he stopped to rest, that would be the end of his night (but this is just me overanalyzing).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's been a growing buzz (yep, this early) about a Part 2. But the producers and promoters haven't said whether or not this is possible. It would depend on a lot things, most of all Ely's health.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A continuation would be great, but that's in the future. Right now, all I know is that the Eheads have made history, and we're all still holding our breath.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-5916335105989055033?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/5916335105989055033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=5916335105989055033' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/5916335105989055033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/5916335105989055033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/08/waiting-to-exhale.html' title='waiting to exhale'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7025109.post-3904331029031045557</id><published>2008-08-28T15:02:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T15:05:39.754+08:00</updated><title type='text'>083008</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xarJh85PXlk/SLZNvwbkiJI/AAAAAAAAAE4/ZkLuG2vIeZg/s1600-h/heads.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 196px; height: 146px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xarJh85PXlk/SLZNvwbkiJI/AAAAAAAAAE4/ZkLuG2vIeZg/s400/heads.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239460699341883538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Nuff said.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7025109-3904331029031045557?l=in_transit.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/feeds/3904331029031045557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7025109&amp;postID=3904331029031045557' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/3904331029031045557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7025109/posts/default/3904331029031045557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://in_transit.blogspot.com/2008/08/083008.html' title='083008'/><author><name>Lara</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06850571079206895546</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='09997218747426681056'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xarJh85PXlk/SLZNvwbkiJI/AAAAAAAAAE4/ZkLuG2vIeZg/s72-c/heads.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>