...or simply, a new beginning. After all, I am not necessarily reborn, always in the process of birthing as I am.

Whatever. I have a new blog, and you have to find out where it is. I ain't telling. Not that you'd be very interested anyway.

But take heart, oh tabulas friends. I shall not leave. I only promised to leave all banal entries here, unfortunately. What's the difference? This has turned so "chop suey" anyway!

Hey hey, it's my birthday today... Woot!

I started with a very premature celebration yesterday (the 6th). Je gave me a female puppy which I'm naming Cabbage (Patch Kids? Remember?), plus a new set of speakers for my discman. Basta maayos ang bass. Coolness.

Late afternoon, had a very late lunch at Oyster Boy. Oysters with Cream Cheese and Pesto. Glorious. After this, I proceeded to go on a mini-shopping spree for a two-piece bathing suit and a corset. Yes, you read correctly, ladies and gentlemen. A black corset with fabulous red embroidery. It is my birthday, after all.

Finally, got pampered at Ace Water Spa (along Del Monte Ave., Q.C. -- I highly recommend this place). No masseurs or anything, just warm water and a lot of air pressure for a dozen or so types of massage. This was my second time at this spot, the first one being with Michiko, Mac, and Jovy. Ahh, I could spend the entire day in the hot herbal pool, if only the heat wouldn't cause me to die from dehydration. Oh well, I guess 20 minutes is enough then.

And now I'm at work. Ang saya, 'no?

* * * * * * * * * *

Bobby must have greeted me a hundred times today. I think I get the message...

Later, after ballet class, I'll be having lunch with mom, then off to the Yale masquerade party. Corset, corset!

I told my mom I wouldn't be able to spend the entire day with her because of friend plans, and she goes "I'm hurt but I love you so sige na nga..." Sigh. My mother sure has talent. My heart's getting pulled at the seams now.

Anyway, after Yale, I'm traipsing off to Metrowalk or Eastwood for a dancefloor showdown with some old Dansa and pseudo-Dansa friends. When we're too wasted, we go pajama partying at my place.

I'm a busy, busy girl, you see.

Happy birthday to me!

I can't help myself! I'm feeling absoluminutely ecstatic right now. I just finished a lesson with Amélie, one of my favorite (and most loyal) learners. She got very positive comments from her prospective employer about her CV and her ability to discuss it, something which we had worked on together. It's hard to explain, but the excitement and pride in her voice just made me smile...and now she's even more determined to study and learn. Progress, at last! I love being a teacher, especially with developments like this.

I also got an email from one of my former learners, Frédéric. His lessons are over now, but he hasn't forgotten his teacher. He sent me a sweet message about the weather (it was so cold a few days ago and he was wondering whatever happened to global warming, and oh global warming "came back" a couple of days later and thank goodness it was much warmer) and how it was "so cool" to know about things happening outside European Union territory. I wish I could talk to him again soon. *sigh*

Of course, now that I have a mush moment, I suddenly miss Brigitte, who told me to have "a great day, with chocolate taste." How much more wonderful life would be if our days were infused with the flavor of cocoa. 

I love this job. It gives me so much joy.

* * * * * * * * * *

On another level of happiness:

I cleaned my room late this afternoon. No, I did not just put some stray books away or sweep an odd spot. I actually got a lot of clean rags (uhm, which were really old jogging pants I had mercilessly mutilated) and soap and water. See this is what's so great about having a tiled floor. I got down on my knees and washed that floor with all the determination of a hopeless O.C. case. Then after it was all soaped up and rinsed, I got down on my knees and wiped it dry, over and over and over (geez, this is almost obscene!).

Of course, I did the whole sweeping, rearranging, wiping, discarding, bedsheet-changing, electric fan-washing, freshener-spraying bit. One of my friends took a peek and declared it immaculate. He's given me an invitation to clean their room. Fat chance.

Anyway, to reward myself, I went to the Libis area three hours before my shift and had dinner at Pasto. I had Mediterraneo salad with peach-flavored Italian soda. Not much of a binge anyway. I haven't eaten meat all day.

I can't wait for tomorrow (or later pala). After an eternity of holiday feasting and fat build-up, I'm training again! I have to do something about the pain in my quads, though. More jogging! 

* * * * * * * * * *

I'm starting to get this happy vibe. I sure do hope it continues!   

Ah, finally. The courage to put my “resolutions” into writing, with the rest of you bloggers (and lurkers) as my witnesses.

1. I promise not to smoke. -- I am such a copycat (haha). But, like rieux, I would like to start with something relatively easy. I'm no chainsmoker, it's true, but I have the tendency to light up a stick or two whenever I'm very very angry or very very depressed or very very intoxicated. I would rather not. First of all, it's bad for the skin (and it's suffering from my regular late nights already), and secondly, it's a bad, baad idea for a dancer such as myself. My body's under so much pressure and exposed to so much pollution as it is. I'm not about to make things worse.

2. Hydrate. With WATER. -- My ballet teacher believes in hydration. So should I. I'm the type who never fails to go below the eight to ten-glass quota. And I drink a lot of flavored junk – soda, sugared water masquerading as fruit juice, blueberry Vodka Cruiser... Tsk, tsk. Definitely a no-no for someone who's always up-and-about. Thus, I have resolved to drink no less than ten glasses of water a day. It's bound to help my diet anyway.

3. Save me from my drunken stupor. -- My new jogging buddy suggested earlier this evening that my lag comes from my inability to stop guzzling alcohol during the holiday party frenzy. No more hard drinks, no more beer. Just the occasional “healthful” glass of red wine for me from now on.

4. Train. Train. Train. -- I have no choice. If I want to be a better dancer, I must do what I must do. Thrice a week, at the very least. Five times, ideally.

5. Dress better. -- What can I say? I want to make my mother happy. (Nah, I just got addicted to shopping, and my first trip to 168 in Divisoria only made it worse!)

6. Avoid toxic people. -- No, I don't want to be mean, but I just realized that sometimes, I try to be too patient with people who don't deserve it. It's such a waste of time when you try to help people who don't want to be helped, or who have this addiction for dragging other people down, or who just delight in their own brand of deviance. I'm done with tolerating this, especially since I suspect that my bouts of depression are aggravated by this propagation of mind poison.

7. Get more shut-eye. -- Wanna see my eye bags? That should be reason enough. Plus I read that inadequate sleep is a major cause of a lot of dance-related injuries. Sigh.

8. Be more literate. -- Read and write more. Finally compile all my poems, old and new, into one long-overdue portfolio. Then even if I don't get a Palanca or into a fellowship, my kids can still be proud of me.

9. Complete! -- I need to clear myself of all overdue academic obligations. ASAP.

10. Save up. -- I want to stop renting someday. Soon. Anyone who knows of a nice, cozy rent-to-own condo or townhouse, please ring me, so I can stop splurging at 168 and start putting together enough cash for my very own shack.

11. Know when to quit. (and I didn't stop at the tenth!) -- It isn't all about being a failure, after all. It's about knowing what's good for me and for the people I love. It's about taking care of myself and guarding my heart. It's about knowing what's right and wrong and choosing the former even if my impulses are rooting for what I “want” at that moment. It's about discerning what will be more beneficial in the long-term while living in and enjoying the present. It's about having the wisdom to identify what's most important to me and standing by it.

A new pair of "English pink" (looks like peach to me, though) Gaynor Minden (supple, oh so supple) pointe shoes!!!!!

Sweet. Positively sweet.

* * * * * * * * * *

There's a lot on my mind right now, but I don't really feel like getting into details just yet.

(I've been splurging on books and VCDs (latest acquisitions: Imagine, Closer, Dirty Dancing, Unfaithful. books: Unabridged version of Les Miserables, to read for the nth time, Foucault's Pendulum, to finally finish, God of Small Things, Good Omens, Neverwhere, Beauty's Release). I plan to either lock myself up with them or fly off to some obscure place during the holiday blah-blah. That should give you an idea of what my state of mind is right now.)

In this freezing office, with the incessant keyboard-tapping muffled by strains of maddened strings, I set my clammy fingers to work. While everyone else in the nearby cubicles is yakking about simple perfect and present perfect verb tenses, phrasal verbs, or modals, I write down the lyrics of this song, trying as best as I can to internalize them (doesn't require too much effort, this part), visualizing scenes I would love to create onstage. Then again, I end up imagining live movie sequences (talaga lang) instead of a UP Theater performance. Sigh.

Well, I hope this works, and beautifully.

My main concern at this point, aside from the choreography, is how to inject every bit of passion and abandon into the performers. Too bad, that part doesn't depend on the choreographer anymore. Is there such a thing as “emotional tranfusion?” Or perhaps, “motivation transfer via osmosis?”

* * * * * * * * * *

I'm so happy! I got my copy of Good Omens by genius tag-team (at least for this project) Gaiman and Pratchett from Jas today. I can't wait to start reading it. The blurbs promise a lot of fun. Fun is good.

* * * * * * * * * *

Thank God for No Show learners. I've been able to relax, and I really concentrated on the only lesson I gave for the night. It was so good I swear it was worth two sessions. Haha. But hey, I could really tell she was soaking up all the information, because I saw to it that there was no way she wouldn't be able to completely understand. Geez, I even went as far as translating every single thing into French and giving three examples for every concept. Too bad I can't speak in complete sentences. I can only manage words: tremblement de terre: earthquake, charrue: plow, anguille: eel, oreille: ear. And so it goes.

Of course when a learner starts “No Showing” like there's always, always tomorrow and beyond, it becomes a cause for concern. Some time ago, I had a learner who seemed responsible enough, but didn't show up for nine consecutive sessions. I started bugging the Paris people way earlier, but by the NINTH (honestly!), I was positively a pain. They did try to get in touch with the person in question. When they got back to me, I almost wished I hadn't asked.

“I have some very sad news. (Insert name of learner) has passed away.”

Talk about a shock. I suddenly had a little tremblement de terre of my own right there and then. Such doleur!

One of my learners is on his fifth No Show and counting. Uh oh.

* * * * * * * * * *

It's getting awfully cold these days. A hand to hold and a thousand bear hugs would be the best antidote for my constant chills.

But in the absence of a worthy human being, I would buy a huge ambrasador larger than myself and a giant stuffed koala bear (if only I could hide in its pouch!), then hibernate under cotton and goose feathers for the rest of the darned holiday season!

I would however, like to think that I needn't spend for such luxuries, as fantastic as it would be to jump into a bedful of fluff. Ha.

* * * * * * * * * *

I came across this again today, after many, many years. Back then, I didn't have much use for it. Today it is food for thought:

“A slow sort of country!” said the Queen. “Now here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that.”

--- Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll

Maybe I am doing too much. I agree, it is time to stop and breathe and know for certain that I have arrived and am always arriving, even as I take these calmer steps.

“There are only two worlds – your world, which is the real world, and other worlds, the fantasy. Worlds like this are worlds of the human imagination: their reality, or lack of reality, is not important. What is important is that they are there. These worlds provide an alternative. Provide an escape. Provide a threat. Provide a dream, and power; provide refuge, and pain...They give your world meaning. They do not exist; and thus they are all that matters. Do you understand?”

Titania, Queen of Faerie (Books of Magic)

I've been on a feeding frenzy lately, taking in books like there's no tomorrow. Actually, I was secretly annoyed that I couldn't read my book while I was at work earlier. Haha. Addict. I now have with me a book of tales, visions, and whathaveyous inspired by The Sandman: Book of Dreams by Neil Gaiman. I'm more than halfway through it and will probably burn the early morning oil (ha, it's already 4:12 am) to finish it, since I'm excited about moving on to Neverwhere, by Neil Gaiman as well.

Please tell me I haven't been reading too much Neil Gaiman.

I had a bad dream last night. Or was that early this morning? Thing is, it could have actually happened...or I suspect something of that sort is happening right now as I type this. It scared me so much. I was in utter disbelief.

So much disbelief, that I mustered a moment of lucidity before I slipped back into the dream and I was trembling and crying and crying and that's when I realized how afraid I was and when I woke up I actually believed it to be true and I hugged myself but it was all so empty and my chest started knotting up so tight and even tighter now that I'm writing this down.

And the worst part of it is that for all I know it wasn't a dream at all. 

First things first.

The concert is finally over.

Whew.

I am relieved, of course. It has indeed taken its toll on me, dragging with it sleepless weeks (not days or nights, mind you....weeks), and a whole shitload of stress and emotional baggage. So now that it's over, well, of course I'm relieved.

But at the same time, I'm very happy. Despite everything we had to go through, all the obstacles and weaknesses and frustration, we pulled it off. This was my directorial debut, mind you, and that's why it meant (and still means) so much to me. This is precisely where all the emotional pressure was coming from. A first. Not really grandiose or anything, but respectable enough. And in the end, it was no disaster, even if all the signs told me it was going to be. I believe it was saved from a crash by something as simple as Love.

I am so grateful for the people who pulled together, up till the very last minute, to bring life to the show. I am so proud of my dancers, because you guys are young and relatively inexperienced, but you have grown so much in the course of the preparation for this event. I am very happy because I still see your eyes light up with innocent joy at the mere mention of the word "dance." Because you are beginning to learn what it means to love, because you are starting to understand what this endeavor is all about --not to show off mere skill (although I'd welcome a clean triple pirouette from you anytime), or to make money (money? what money?), or to simply earn bragging rights. We do this to live our passion, we do this because we have something to share.

So I am very proud of you. And, regardless of differences, I love you very very much.

Of course, I'm taking a break from directing after that first try. Haha.

*****

Of course that doesn't mean I won't be choreographing anymore. My next project's really going to be the bomb (I hope)! It's a competition piece meant for two, and I'm making sure it radiates with all the sensuality, desire, and agony (the song requires it) that the judges can bear to take. Oh, and as much of these as the dancers are willing to make. Haha.

*****

Today, I accomplished the first item from my "Things to Do After December 2" list. I've got a purple butterfly gleaming on my navel. It is cute, but very sexy at the same time. Plus, it matches my soul sistah's sky blue one (sana talaga Mich, 'wag ka muna maglililikot while yours hasn't healed yet...). 

My only regret is that I lost a wee bit of poise while I was having it done. I almost had a repeat of my accupuncture incident. You see, the first (and last) time I had myself accupunctured, I wasn't lying down -- I was sitting up, and after the fourth needle was inserted and tapped in, I got a rush of electricity to my head and fainted.

Well, this time, I was standing up, and the "piercer dude" (as I call him...he looks like a "dude" sort of person) was finding it a bit difficult to get the needle in due to my...ahermm... hard abdominal muscles (at least I had something to be happy about). Since we were in a relatively crowded place and I was stuck in some warm corner, I couldn't breathe that well. I started perspiring and getting dizzy...so much so, that by the time the ring was locked, I was about ready to faint. Well. Something tells me not entering medical school was a wise decision...

*****

I've also been catching up on my reading. Finally! I'm passing by Powerbooks on Monday and getting myself a copy of The God of Small Things. Just finishing Oranges are Not the Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson now. Maybe after three books I'll take a short break and start writing again. I've yet to properly compile my old poems, so I guess I'll be doing that in the meantime.

*****

I know I've still got some work to be done by tomorrow, but after all that I've been through during the past weeks, I suddenly feel so rested. Like I'm now ready to take on the world!

Well, whoever said that first must be right: Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

And I'm not dead.