Little Things 8: Of Journals, Transcontinental Connectedness and Rules to Live By

It's been understood that there's an uncanny connectedness between the Beets. As you know, one of our own, my Twin, has spread her wings and embarked on an adventure in a far away land with the love of her life, we'll call him, um, Iron Man.

So, with an ocean between us (T3, Beets and myself in Manila, and Twin in Toronto), the Beets utilize every means of communication to stay in touch—our medium of choice: BBM.

Sometime last week:

It was late at night (in Manila) and from another city on a different continent (Toronto), Twin sends the Beets a picture through BBM.

5:35 pm in a bookstore in Toronto.

I couldn't believe my eyes. I rushed into my room and sent the Beets this picture:

5:36 am on my bookshelf in Manila.

Ready for another link in the connection? This journal was given to me several years ago by BEETS!

Imagine:

Three years ago, on a trip abroad, Beets came across this journal and thought of me. She gave me the journal. Enamored by the message on the cover, I actually used the journal (and still do!). Three years later, present day, across the Pacific, across the Canadian landmass, the same journal catches Twin's eye and inspires her to send the Beets a picture—unaware that its own twin was lounging on my shelf.

Conn.ec.ted.ness.



I decided to go through my old journal and reminisce about the silliness of being young. With a smile and slight shake of my head, I opened the journal to its first page:

"live with intention. I am a journal and my name is Carrie Bradshaw."

Yes. It's a bit silly but I do tend to name all my belongings. As you may already know, my laptop's name is Darla, my car's name is Jibby (I'm driving again, BTdubs, and Jibby's on the mend), and so my journal's name is Carrie Bradshaw. I feel like naming my things makes me appreciate them more. I get affected when they're damaged, worried when they're lost, and feel proud when they out-perform my expectations.

And the names really stick.

In college, Darla got a bug and I had to take her to the IT people. My roommates would ask, "How's Darla feeling?", or "When's Darla coming home?" When she got better they would ask "Can I see Darla for a sec?" (they needed to borrow her), or "Can you take Darla with you to rehearsals?"

It got to the point where I named shoes. Not combined pairs—each shoe had a name.
Me to roommate: "Hey Zak, I can't decide. Beyoncé and GaGa are fierce, but Rihanna and Steggo are super comfy."
Zak: "Beyoncé and GaGa. Definitely. Although I do like Rihanna and Steggo... They're fierce too."
Me: "You're so fired."


Sorry, I digress. Back to Carrie.


As I flipped through pages of names, feelings, daydreams and experiences, I happened across my own list of rules to live by (albeit slightly less wholesome than the list of rules on the cover):

De-skankify your life.

The instructions on Carrie's cover have always been my approach on living life even before she was given to me. Those rules are exactly how I want to live my life for myself. I'm very much a carpe-diem-live-like-there's-no-tomorrow-appreciate-the-now type of soul. I'm an optimistic realist (I'm a walking paradox): hope for the best, plan for the worst.

Now, when it comes to living with and amongst others, I felt like the rules had to be a little bit more specific. The golden rule is my mantra: "do unto others as you would have others do unto you"; live and let live. After reviewing countless case studies (friends' relationships) and my own experimentation (trial and a lot of error), I came up with the set of rules above.

However, after a little more trial and even more error, I think that a few amendments should be made to this list.

"Do not make the first move"—it would totally suck if this rule was followed by the other party involved as well—you'll end up nowhere—fast. I'll be honest, I'm still working out the kinks on this one.

Now for the line:

"Flirtation with any of the above is totally acceptable", I have written an addendum that reads as follows:

Note on note on sidenote: Practice with caution.




It's funny because rules have never really been my thing. They can be appealed, changed, rewritten, bent and broken. They're effective until they aren't. Nothing is absolutely absolute (Is this statement a rule?).

Instead, I see them as temporary, extremely reliable guides—not hard and fast, but pretty darn solid. And as far as guides go, I find the following super kadooper useful:

Live with intention.

Walk to the edge.

Listen hard.

Practice wellness.

Play with abandon.

Laugh.

Choose with no regret.

Continue to learn.

Appreciate your friends.

Do what you love.

Live as if this is all there is.

How can one go wrong?




<3

Little Things 7: Oldie but Goodie 2

I was at the mall yesterday and I came across an older gentleman in the cutest get-up. I present to you:

Urban Safari x Concrete Jungle

Fashion Icons include: Kuya Kim Atienza and Steve Irwin.

I saw him standing against a railing. My sister was appalled when I asked him if I could take his picture.

"You're such a weirdo," she says.

Whatevs. Ain't he a cutie?!

<3

Little Things.6: Oldie but Goodie

I don't know why, but seeing the elderly makes me smile. They have the same effect on me that babies and young children have on most people. I find them so cute and charming! I cannot count the times I've seen the cutest old man or woman and wished that I had a camera at the time.

Well, one day I did.

And I present to you the first Oldie but Goodie:

Patterned Pops

Stripes on Plaid?! What a rebel!!!

I love this guy! He reminds me of an extra large kid. Take note of the socks! =)

<3

Little Things.5 x Art Attack: Street Cats

I am inclined to write something a bit more optimistic to compensate for the last negapost. (BTdubs, I haven't called Starbucks, I think I'm over it) This is going to be a combination post because its subject does make me smile and I've done a painting with one of them in it. I am talking about—

STREET CATS

Ilog Maria. Silang, Cavite, Philippines. April 2011

I know a lot of people who don't like cats, much less strays—but I am fascinated by them.

To begin with, there's a reason why people who move in a sexy graceful way are described as cat-like or feline. There's an undeniable slinky sexiness to a cat's shoulders when it walks—and those dainty yet deliberate footsteps. Cats possess a dignity, a self-assurance and a regal demeanor no matter what breed—or lack thereof.

I actually have two cats. Here's Tallulah:

And she has a friend—the Rat King!

That's one more thing people don't give cats enough credit for—they're excellent hunters. They help keep the rodent population down. If it weren't for Tallulah, that rat could still be spreading germs and bacteria. Tallulah is kept company by her mother, Cleo, who in her day was an impressive huntress as well, able to snatch birds out of midair.

It is no wonder that purebred cats—like Talullah and Cleo who are Ragdolls—have attracted many fans and fanciers. But run-of-the-mill street cats, who I like to call "Muggles", still posses that grace, dignity and understated beauty common to all of their race.

Park. Magallanes Village, Pasay City, Philippines. July 2011.

I love seeing street cats. I always wonder what they're up to, what adventure they're about to have. When I encounter a street cat that allows itself to be touched and petted—that pretty much makes my day. Friendly street cats make me especially happy because despite their difficult lives on the streets, they still have the capacity for trust and affection. There is something about cats, and street cats in particular, that speaks to my soul. It inspired me a few years ago to create this painting:

PUSAKAL. 16 x 20 inches. Acrylic on Canvas. June 2009.

I'm not a photographer, so every time I take snapshots of my paintings they always look flat... The gold and play of colors and textures are lost. The painting should shimmer and shine, kinda' like in the picture above.

Pusakal is a Tagalog potmanteau—pusang kalye (pusa - cat; kalye - street = street cat).

Street cats remind me that there really is beauty all around us—we simply need to take a closer look. A cat's patterned coat is like a fingerprint—no two cats are exactly the same. And they are survivors, each pusakal is weathering the challenges thrown their way, wending through life in the best way they know—just like the rest of us. Street cats remind me of the millions, nay billions, of faceless, nameless people who are marginalized and forgotten.

To me at least, a street cat is not just a street cat. It is a living, breathing, feeling entity that is part, quite cheesily—I admit—but truthfully, of the circle of life. Much in the same way that nobody is just another white guy, or just a tranny, or just a nigger, or a redneck, or just a woman. In the overlooked, in the forgotten and sometimes even painfully persecuted, we will always find beauty and purpose.

We each wish to be seen and understood for who we truly are, or at least who we want people to think we are. It seems only fair to me then, that I extend this courtesy to everyone I meet—friend and stranger alike.

There is so much more to each of us than meets the eye. I hope that one day we will no longer need to look closely to realize that. Because when the time comes, our minds and hearts will be open enough to realize that the beauty, and purpose and light was there all along.

<3