Liar, Liar

All writers are liars.

*pause*

Okay, that might be too harsh. Or too abrupt. Let me try to explain what I mean. I think you'll be nodding your heads after you read this.

By law (my own law), writers are the creative sort. This means that they have a very hyperactive imagination. Give them a carrot and they can already see the garden full of fresh vegetables and orchids. Give them flowers and they start thinking how many kids you'll have and what their names will be.

By another law (still my own), writers are entertainers. They have this NEED to keep people un-bored. They need to keep them on their toes, whether at a party or using their pens.

By yet another law (yes, still my own, sorry. yes I really love myself.), writers know a lot of little facts and tidbits, things that are interesting enough to be talked about, but not that readily available such that it is common knowledge.

Combining all three laws makes a perfect formula for lying.

We (yes I'm included in those whose pants will catch fire) have a tendency to exaggerate... to stretch the truth a bit... to make black look grey and white look silver. We have the gift of gab. We try to make unexciting things exciting, even when we feel guilty for adding a new angle to the story.

Yes, I am one of them too. In fact, I actually felt bad every so often when I think about it.

This is why I got so relieved when I read Robert Fulghum's introduction in his book "All I Really Need to Know I Learned In Kindergarten." I love this book. I love it not only for providing good insights in its simplicity, but also because Robert was a kindred soul. He was able to sum up why writers are liars. Well, he didn't exactly say that, but he did say that he added and subtracted a bit here and there when he was editing his book.

"I am a writer. I am not an investigative journalist."

After reading those two simple sentences, I heaved a huge sigh of relief. I am not going to hell after all. I mean, I'm basically a nice person and I hate seeing people get hurt over nothing but I just can't help trying to entertain folks. And if this means augmenting another angle here and there to make the story more interesting, then why not? Robert's words actually make me weep with relief. (Yep, that's another example of me being a liar.) But seriously, I did feel better when I read his words. It's like, "Yes, finally! Somebody understands what I'm going through... and he's actually able to articulate it in two simple sentences."

Long live, Robert Fulghum.

See? I was right. You are nodding your heads as you read this. Of course, you do know that it does take one to know one right? Hehe... Gotcha!

Sense and Sensibility

I had been experiencing blurred vision sporadically for the past few weeks. I thought it was because of stress, so I just shrugged it off. But when it still came and went after I was able to take some time off from work, I wondered it if was more serious that I originally assumed.

I quickly made an appointment with my eye doctor. As it turns out, after 3 years from my Lasik eye surgery, I started to get astigmatism in my left eye. Interestingly enough, my doctor informs me, rather snottily I might add, that among his hundreds of patients, I am part of the minority 2% who actually had some imperfect vision before the 5-year guarantee was up.

Yup, even lasik surgery has warranty. Funny, isn't it? In this case, I was rather relieved, because I couldn't imagine paying a king's ransom the second time around just to correct this 75 degree astigmatism. But then again, I couldn't imagine needing to wear glasses again either. Either way, I just want to kiss whoever came up with the idea of warranty for eye surgery.

Conclusion was that I needed a touch-up surgery. And because I'm still inside the warranty period (I feel like an appliance), I can get that enhancement surgery for free. I will aim to complete that touch-up within September. (Yes of year 2007). Although I have to wear this huge and ugly goggles for at least 7 days, I feel like I should still celebrate. I think this is the only time I have actually had use for warranties. I always thought that they were just money-making schemes. Guess I am wrong.

***

And since I'm such a morbid person, this got me to thinking -- among all of my five senses (unfortunately this does not include common sense or sense of humor), which among them would I be first and last to give up?

I think the easiest for me to give up is really the sense of smell. On the other hand, I would definitely go crazy if I had to lose my eyesight.

I cannot imagine not seeing the different colors of the sunset nor your firstborn's smile. Not being able to read a book on how Jay Leno felt on his first audition or what Harry Potter's first kiss felt like. Not knowing what ecru or fuschia or aqua blue looks like. I can go on and on, but you get my drift.

On the other hand, I can imagine myself not being able smell at all. This is especially helpful when working overtime in the office and the washroom opposite you stinks like crazy. Or when you're plastered next to a bus full of sweaty people at the end of a long work day. Or being near your 6-year old son who finds it funny to fart whenever your face is near his body.

Of course, I don't want to think nor imagine that I would actually lose something a few years from now. But you have to admit it's an interesting thought to have while listening in to 20 people with different accents arguing about whether to turn on a new SAP functionality or not. (Don't ask for details. All you have to know that I am in the middle of the a late-night meeting while doing this. Sssh.)

Disclaimer: I don't want to jinx myself nor do I want to be presumptious and belittle everyone who has lost one sense or the other. This is just my personal opinion. This is just me being my morbid self. Hehe.

Boys Will Be Boys

Whether they are toddlers or past their prime, boys will definitely still be boys.

Fortunately AND unfortunately, my 6-year old son is no exception.

They are fascinated with action figures. Mask Rider, Power Rangers, Transformers, Justice League, Pokemon. You name it. As long as they have special powers and they fight, my son knows each and every character intimately.

They try kiss you on the mouth. Out of the blue, my son would give me a smack right on the lips even though I was obviously asking him for a kiss on my cheek. Of course, he has enough insight to know that this can only be done unexpectedly so that it will still be cute and amusing vs being just plain annoying. Smart kid, my son.

They stare at a girl's breast. I was kneeling down and tying my son's shoelace. Then he tells me, "Mom, I can see your nipples." I just said calmly, "Those are not my nipples, baby. That's just my breasts." Then he grins mischievously. *Shudder* I can't wait for the day he asks me about the birds and the bees. Whoopee.

They like touching themselves. They can't help it. Heck, my son can't help it and he's six! I swear I've never seen him soooo happy as when his hands discovered his genitalia... not even when he received his Christmas or birthday gifts. Of course, being the cool mom that I am, I didn't make a big deal out of it. I just ignored it till he got tired and slept. (I did take a picture so that I can use it for bribery IF he tries to do something really evil.)

They don't want their mothers to show any skin at all. No matter how much boys like looking at bare torsos and ample cleavage, they still want their own mothers (or sisters or aunts) to be covered from head to toe. I once wore a form-fitting baby tee that kept riding up whenever I walk. My son kept tugging it back. One other time, he even asked if I forgot to wear my jacket. That was when I tried to be daring and wore a dress that shows some cleavage, however imaginary it may be.

Sigh. I should be thankful. Really I am. Honest.

It could be worse I suppose. He could have an endless fascination for dolls or be all brawn and no brains.

FAQs on Title-Making

I don't know about you but I've always been fascinated with the title of a story as much as I devour the actual story itself. In most cases, the title is the make-or-break deal for me - I would assume that the rest of the story would be as boring as its title. On the other hand, I would be more than inclined to buy a book that has an interesting or eye-catching title.

Over the years, I've had people ask me how I come up with the header, subject, title, or whatever you wish to call it. Normally I just shrug my shoulders and give a mysterious smile. But people are more persistent nowadays, hence they won't accept a smile for an answer. Therefore I'm forced to come up with specific answers.

When do you come up with the title?
I loathe to give this answer, but in this case, it's true. It really depends. Sometimes, before I start writing, I already know what I want the title to be. Sometimes, it just pops out while I'm writing the middle paragraph. Other times, I have to rewrite the title at the end of my article because the story suddenly develops into a different plot by itself and the original title doesn't seem to fit that well.

But in my case, since I only write stuff that I am either passionate about or interested in, it is really not difficult for me to come up with one. In fact, i can safely say I have never finished an article without knowing what the title would be. That's actually the easiest part for me.

What are the different ways of naming the title?
If I were to categorize my titles, it falls into either of these 3 categories.
a) Alliterations
b) Puns - This is when I'm trying to be cute :)
c) Straightforward, matter-of-fact - like the title above

I find that using any of the 3 or a combination of them usually works for me.

How do you know that you have the right title?
It's instinctive. You just know. If you have doubts, maybe you can do better or maybe you just have too high standards.

Those answers should be more satisfactory more than a smile right?

Disclaimer: These are the author's personal views. You can agree with them, or agree to disagree. They work for me. Who knows, might work for you too. Feel free to email or add your thoughts.

Crash and Burn

I pride myself on being able to take on more work than a typical woker and still deliver excellent results. Over the years, I have learned to have the insight on when I have extra capacity to volunteer for additional stuffs and stretch myself and earn my keep, so to speark. But I also strive to make time for my family, my friends and myself. So working on a more-than-8-hour schedule but still having time to shop, talk and play is nothing new for me.

However, I think I have definitely reached the height of my "stretching" recently. If I take a few minutes and looked at things from an outsider's point of view, I could see signs that I was about to crash and burn. However, I was working on adrenaline mode for the past 7 weeks since it was necessary, and didn't have time to sufficiently recharge... hence I got the worst case of burnt out in my personal history ever.

I can list down each and every thing that happened for the past 3 months that has caused me to work like a slavedriver, but I don't want to sound whiny and immature. However, I would list some signs that I saw in myself that if I had only listened to them would've prevented me from actually having a nervous near-breakdown. Trust me, even though I know I'm definitely not ugly, it was NOT a pretty sight.

1. I had at least one nose bleed per day for the past 2 weeks. My blood pressure shot up, I had headaches even in the morning and I was feverish for the most part of the day.

2. In my case, I didn't even have the time nor energy to blog. If you notice, the number of blog posts I have for July and August is just downright depressing. I literally can't even make myself type something, since I was just too darned sleepy or tired. I also wasn't able to

3. You receive complaints from your family and friends. My son complains that I don't get to tuck him to bed anymore and that he has to text or call me to hear my voice. My friends complain that I keep missing our barkada gatherings. My parents complain that I don't talk to them anymore.

4. Sleeping in odd places at odd times - I actually found myself asleep in the middle of lunch in a restaurant while lunching out with some friends. I also dozed off while riding the shuttle from one office to another. This is definitely a sign that you need rest.

5. I am always distracted, easy to get angry and snap at other people. No matter how nice of a person you are (like me), when you're at a point of being exhausted than you've ever been in your life, you have this tendency to just snap, when you could've easily overlooked it in normal circumstances. Also, you keep forgetting where you've placed your things. You get confused with the same information.

6. I seem to be on a crying spell at any hint of additional trouble. This is actually the scariest symptom of all. My eyes would fill with tears the second that I think of all the issues I have and the task list that seems to just add no matter how much I cross each one out faithfully.

I still believe that I made the right decisions in putting the extra effort despite knowing that I was putting myself into a precarious position. But let's face it, we're all humans. We can't expect to work 24 x 7 and not experience any consequences because of it. There has to be a time to work and a time to play. Next time you see me in a similar situation, feel free to give me a good whack on my head to wake me up! :)

On Being Self-Sufficient

As somebody who has led projects and managed resources, and at the same time, has a team to deliver a different set of project portfolio for the year, I know that being self-sufficient is a highly admirable trait. These self-sufficient folks know what they need to do to achieve their objectives and require very mininal supervision. However, if you see this trait on a 6-year old kid, it's just a bit freaky.

My son's new teeth are growing and he had a bit of a cold. Hence, he had fever for the past few days. This meant that he had to miss classes for a few days.

Unfortunately, on the same day, I had to stay overnight in the office because our activities (legitimate project activities) lasted till 5am and I still had to go to work a few hours after. My son, being the self-sufficient little human being that he is, actually wrote himself an excuse letter and requested his nanny to bring it to his teacher.

It read: "Dear Ms. Mercado, I cannot go to school today because I have fever." Then he signed his name at the end. (NOTE: For a guy, my son has a neat handwriting.)

Of course, the teacher was tickled pink when she received the letter. The nanny came home still holding the same excuse letter. She said that the teacher cannot accept a self-made excuse letter. It has to be signed by the parents. But she did get a good laugh out of it.

Geez. I mean I know that my son is more mature than most kids his age, but to have the perception that an excuse letter is needed (he saw me write several before), and to actually compose his own letter is just beyond being self-sufficient. It's downright scary.

Needless to say, I had some explaining to do the very next day. I did manage to produce a typewritten legitimate excuse letter and hand it over to the teacher personally. Fortunately, she had a sense of humor as well, so no harm came out of it.

Next thing I know, my son would be writing himself his own prescription for cough medicine.

Birthday Blast

Last week, I hinted (not too subtly I might add) that I was having a major dose of birthday blues. Surprisingly, contrary to my fears, I had the best-est birthday blast this year.

The thing is, I can't decide which gift I like best...

... this gorgeous white-gold heart-shaped pendant necklace accompanied by a tear-jerking message
... full body massage and foot reflexology at the spa (where I promptly fell asleep and woke up feeling like noodles)
... one hour of fun-filled salsa lessons
... interesting books to read (Purpose-Driven Life, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, It Was On Fire When I Lay It Down)
... super comfy boxer shorts from Marks & Spencers
... heavenly bath products from Body Shop and Marks & Spencers
... a surprise birthday lunch in office
... yummy dessert and crepes at Cafe Briton while chatting with family and friends
... greetings/emails/phone calls from relatives and friends from all over

But then again I thought, "Wait, why do I have to choose?" I should just accept the gifts as is and appreciate each for their own uniqueness.

Thanks to everyone who made my 29th birthday a real blast! :)

Song of the Month - August 2007

Reflection
by Christina Aguilera

Look at me
You make think you see who I really am
But you'll never know me

Ev'ry day It's as if I play a part
Now I see If I wear a mask
I can fool the world
But I cannot fool my heart

Who is that girl I see
Staring straight back at me?
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?

I am now
In a world where I have to hide my heart
But somehow I will show the world
What's inside my heart
And be loved for who I am

Who is that girl I see
Staring straight back at me?
Why is my reflection someone I don't know?

Must I pretend that I'm
Someone else for all time?
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?

There's a heart that must be free to fly
That burns with a need to know the reason why
Why must we all conceal
What we think,
How we feel?
Must there be a secret me I'm forced to hide?

I won't pretend that I'm someone else
For all time
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?