Blog Challenge Day 1

A recent picture and 15 interesting facts

about yourself

The picture to the right is my most recent one. Can't find in my laptop the one that doesn't have "Accessories by Precious" and I'm currently way too lazy to download the original photo from my cellphone. Hehe.

15 Interesting Facts About Me

1. I'm a jewelry designer. Still an amateur but I consider myself one already as I've been making pieces since 2007 that I either sell or give as gifts to friends and colleagues. In fact, my picture here is the profile picture of my Facebook Business Page. I'll be closing the page soon though as I'm about to leave for the US to join my husband and it's going to be for good. Who knows? Maybe I'll start a line there once I'm able to get the capital. Getting the much-needed capital though means working as an employee of a company (any company! haha) first. Then again, my priorities will surely change once I become a mom. Oh well... Let's just say that I'm thankful for the skills that I know I'll take with me once I leave the Philippines.

My Kare-Kare

2. I'm not fond of sweets but I like my Kare-Kare sweet and my dipping sauce a combination of sweet, sour and spicy.

3. The best gifts to give me are chunky necklaces and bags (ehem... calling my friends...).

4. My mom and dad were public speakers and writers. Thus explains what I've been doing since grade school.

5. I can't swim, much less, float. I don't even trust a flotation device enough to just let go.

6. Sue me but I'm anal when it comes to really bad (not tolerable!) grammar and pronunciation. I'm not perfect but hearing people settling for something mediocre such as saying "cents" when its "centavos" that should be said (hello! 50 cents and 50 centavos are NOT the same!) and saying b-ih-tch when they mean beach is completely unacceptable.

7. I think (and some do) that I have the gift of prophecy. I just do not wish to explore that area. I only do it for fun.

Our Wedding Missalette

8. I'm not Chinese (or maybe I am because of my great great grandparents) but for some reason, the number 8 seems to hold an important place in my life (Note: I did not make it a point to put this fact as the 8th Interesting Fact About Myself  -  it's merely a coincidence... or is it?). My 8th official boyfriend became my husband. We became a couple in 2008 and got married on January 24, 2010 (01+2+4+1+0=8). The unit number of our property in Manila is 1H (H=8th letter of the alphabet).

9. I'm not against the Reproductive Health Bill in the Philippines. Haha. There! I said it! But before you condemn me to death, wait for a blog post about my reasons. lol

10. I was a Batibot child star in the early 90s! I remember coming to their studio on EDSA (near Quezon Ave!) after school and "interacting" with their puppets.

11. I love spicy tuna rolls, gyoza, hakaw, chopsuey, spaghetti in red sauce (not too sour or sweet, please), Pizza Hut's Hawaiian stuffed crust (cheese) pizza, Greenwich's Mozzarella Garlic pizza, siomai, Chinese cabbage (bok choy/pechay) and fried eggplant and/or steamed kangkong (water/swamp cabbage) with bagoong (alamang).

12. I hate pork fat (but I eat chicharon! lol), wasabi, kimchi, mustasa (mustard leaves) and ampalaya (bitter melon).

13. I ballooned to 185 lbs last year because of my sedentary (it's way too cold to jog in the Bay Area! lol) almost 6-month stay in the US (hello all-you-can-eat restos and big servings!) so when I returned to the Philippines to wait for the approval of my spouse petition, I vowed never to knock on death's door because of weight issues. I thought, if I love eating so much, I have to match that love with an active lifestyle. Plus, I want to become a mom already! I have to be in shape for that! So when my dad's monthly hospital confinements ended in November of last year, I started making it a point to go to the gym at least 4xs/week. The 3 and 5-lb dumbbells, the treadmill, the Abcore machine and the Precor elliptical and crossramp machines are my bestfriends for at least an hour while at the gym. As of this typing, I've already lost 20.5 lbs! Now you know my current weight. lol :)

14. I can read Spanish texts and make native language speakers think that I speak the language fluently. Proved that during my 2-month stay in Nicaragua while on a business trip. Haha! Seriously, I wish to go beyond my poor fluency in said language. Accent is not an issue. Grammar is somewhat an issue. Vocabulary IS the biggest issue!

15. I am afraid of heights....The stairs of the MRT stations in Ortigas and Shaw are to blame for this! Let's also include the really high escalator at the Shangrila Mall in EDSA. I have to overcome that though so as not to spoil the trip hubby's planning to the Grand Canyon Skywalk. Wish me luck!

My 30-Day Blog Challenge

Got the idea from a college classmate, Pauline. I thought, why not? I love writing and it has been a while since I've pushed and pulled my  writing skills. Her blog in Tumblr had me googling for 30-Day Blog Challenge posts and as it turns out, this one started a few years back and has different variations. There's one that focuses solely on fashion topics. But since I'm not into hardcore fashion, I'll settle for what I found at Bloggity Boop:

BLOGGITY BOOP (VERSION 2)

Day 01- A recent picture of you and 15 interesting facts about yourself

Day 02- The meaning behind your Blogger name

Day 03- A picture of you and your friends

Day 04- A habit that you wish you didn’t have

Day 05- A picture of somewhere you’ve been to

Day 06- Favorite super hero and why

Day 07- A picture of someone/something that has the biggest impact on you

Day 08- Short term goals for this month and why

Day 09- Something you’re proud of in the past few days

Day 10- Songs you listen to when you are Happy, Sad, Bored, Hyped, Mad

Day 11- Another picture of you and your friends

Day 12- How you found out about Blogger and why you made one

Day 13- A letter to someone who has hurt you recently

Day 14- A picture of you and your family

Day 15- Put your iPod on shuffle: First 10 songs that play

Day 16- Another picture of yourself (baby pic!)

Day 17- Someone you would want to switch lives with for one day and why

Day 18- Plans/dreams/goals you have

Day 19- Nicknames you have; why do you have them

Day 20- Someone you see yourself marrying/being with in the future

Day 21- A picture of something that makes you happy

Day 22- What makes you different from everyone else

Day 23- Something you crave for a lot

Day 24- A letter to your parents

Day 25- What I would find in your bag

Day 26- What you think about your friends

Day 27- Why are you doing this 30 day challenge

Day 28- A picture of you last year and now, how have you changed since then?

Day 29- In this past month, what have you learned

Day 30- Who are you?

Favorite Jewelry Pieces

These are the ones I'm selling at my FB biz page (Accessories by Precious <-- click this) and not the ones I made for myself. Truth be told, if I'm greedy and all, I'll horde them all up for myself and myself alone! *snicker*

But since I'm running out of wardrobe space in the US as my accessories, shoes and all, have taken most of the space in one of my two closets there, and for profit purposes, I have no choice but to sell them. My huge task? To have at least 90% of them gone by the time I return to the US para bawas excess luggage and so I can make more! Haha.

NECKLACES

More than bracelets or anklets or rings, I looooooooooooooove necklaces! This is primarily because I inherited my dad's genes that cause my nape to develop a not-so-appealing chasm-like line. Ang pangit tuloy that's why I'm not so keen on sideview shots unless something's covering my neck/nape (turtleneck shirts, chunky necklaces and long, ponytailed hair are my bestfriends). Of course, necklaces give an illusion of length and grace  -  something women like me need more than anything.

PhP160

Scarf Necklace  -  PhP200

BRACELET(S)

I'm a big-boned girl and I have hair on my arms and legs that are so fine they don't really need to be shaved off. These are the reasons why it's difficult for me to find a bracelet that would look and feel nice on my arm. I despise, to the highest heavens, stretchable/elastic nylon. Who invented these, anyway? Ugh. My solution? Make my own that's heavy on charms and nice acrylic/swarovski stones.

PhP140

EARRINGS

I have a round face. Dangling earrings in subtle, earth tone colors, are therefore the best accessory for it.

PhP45

PhP35

PhP60

By now, you might have already noticed that I made my items work around my features, taking into consideration as well the features of other women. As they say, you have got to let clothes and accessories fit you, adjust to you, work around you and definitely not the other way around :)

Love In The Time of Dementia

The following article is a repost from my Multiply blog. I wrote this piece in 2006, one to two months before she died. I wish to share this, once again, as it's Mothers Day today and the timing can't be more perfect (it's her 5th year in heaven).

___________________________________________________________________________

"Perdonare."

Such was what was said by one of the characters in Mitch Albom's "For One More Day". Said character, one of the wives of the grandfather of the main storyteller, was telling the lead character, Chick Benetto, to forgive himself.

In loving memory of mommy, Aurora Villamiel Tierra-Cardenas (Sept. 20, 1944-April 10, 2006)

Just how does one accept that her parent may already need to go?

This is dedicated to my mother.

Happier Times: With mommy in October 1997

‘I still want to live’

            My mother, as an advanced-stage sufferer of dementia of the Alzheimer’s type, only cries for six known reasons  -  when she’s hungry, when she wants to see either me or my dad beside her, when she struggles to remove her diaper which she really hates, if she’s in physical pain, if she needs to respond to the call of nature,  and if something has annoyed or irritated her.

            One night however, I woke up to a very different cry. It was her fourth night in the hospital where she was rushed after being badly bruised from a fall. Thinking that it might be one of the six reasons, I checked on her underpads (we earlier decided to stop the usage of diapers), it was not wet. I peeked into her underwear, it was not soiled. I asked her if she’s hungry or in pain, she only continued crying with nary her usual nod or  “no” for a response.

            She then began calling for dad who was partly hidden from her sight. Since dad’s out of sleep and was not feeling well, I told her that dad and I were just there while caressing her arm. But she persisted in her crying so I just ignored it thinking it is ordinary for advanced-stage sufferers of her illness to act like that.

            A minute into lying down on the makeshift bed I placed beside her bed, I suddenly heard her saying some words that were too garbled to understand. From experience, if she keeps on saying some words over and over again, I must really try to listen and guess what she’s trying to say. What I heard sent chills down my spine that I knew I had to wake dad up.

            Restless in bed and saying the words “I still want to live” and pointing and looking at something, I recalled the story of our house help who said that prior to the hospital confinement, mom, who I know is not much of a believer of anything supernatural save for some creatures she often told me as the other creations of God, kept on insisting that she’s been seeing a lady in white in our kitchen which could be seen if the door to the master’s bedroom is open.

            When mom eventually calmed down after 30 minutes or so, knowing she’s scared, I asked her permission so I could sleep beside her in her bed. Before sleeping, I told her some happy stories that made her laugh. Upon knowing her nerves had already calmed down, I asked her what she had seen and for a response, what she gave evoked different images that could only make me cry:

            “I saw a small star, a light.”

Aurora

            Dictionaries define the word “aurora” as the Latin word for dawn. The online encyclopedia, Wikipedia, describes it in detail as a glow observed in the night sky, usually in the polar zones which could either be known as the "aurora borealis" or the "northern lights” that often appears as a reddish glow on the northern horizon as if the sun were rising from an unusual direction, or the “aurora australis" of the southern horizon that also has similar properties.

Aurora Cardenas nee Tierra

            Astronomically speaking, an “aurora” may first appear as a faint, milky glow low in the north, too dim for the human eye to detect any color but bright enough to silhouette clouds near the horizon. Astronomy.com described it as a “ghostly glow” which is a “feast for the eyes”

            Similar to the effects these lights possess are the never-ending wonders my mother gave to me and to persons who have known her. Seemingly destined to be named after such phenomena, Aurora Villamiel Tierra-Cardenas was born on September 20, 1943 although apparently, a mistake occurred in the inputting of her birth date of which was the reason why on all of her important documents, she’s always a year younger than her actual age.

            Her sisters describe her as the most beautiful of more or less a dozen siblings who all hail from Atimonan, Quezon. Stories speak of how both her innate and physical beauty always earns her the admiration of many people. At the risk of being over the edge what with my natural bias for her as her daughter, I believe such descriptions to be true. These descriptions, however, cannot compensate the very reasons why she always stands out in everything she does.

            Career-wise, she once was a star. Many people recall her as the “Tiya Dely” of the Quezon province as for a time, she had a stint as a radio announcer (DJ) in one of the local radio stations and became famous, with a share of fans of her own, for her slow but soft, and low but sweet tone of voice that made people compare her with the famous radio personality.

            Said event in her life was just one of the many instances that made her shine and glow like an aurora until dementia closed in on her lights and eventually swallowed these like one big and strong black hole.

More Cruel Than Cancer

It was only in 2004 when mom suffered a severe stroke when her doctors discovered that she could have probably been undergoing a series of mini-strokes beforehand that caused numerous minute ruptured veins and damaged cells in her brain. Such discovery had been previously unknown to us as every time mom would have a high blood pressure or any discomfort, she would not inform us of the physical pain she was feeling. No, she never did. She never wanted us to worry.

            According to Reader’s Digest Guide to Medical Cures and Treatments, it is “a brain disorder in which memory, thought processes, and behavior become progressively impaired named for Dr. Alois Alzheimer, the German neurologist who first described it in the early 1900s.”

            Dementia.com on the other hand provides that the word “dementia” is only a general term for a condition that results to different illnesses such as Alzheimer’s.

        One could only imagine the pain that struck me and my dad upon learning only recently that from the abovementioned website that in the three stages of Alzheimer’s, mild or early stage, moderate or mid-stage and severe or late/advanced stage, mom is already in the latter stage.

            Often dismissed as a natural occurrence due to old age, dementia could be much more cruel than cancer as it could only be slowed down, not treated. I am no medical expert but who’s to say it only happens to people in their 80s or 90s? My mom, my dear, sweet and loving mom is only 62 as of this writing!

Beyond Borders

            Commitment means passion, dedication and the will to finish anything that has been started. As in the case of my mom and dad, it is love beyond affection, acceptance beyond caring.

           It took me quite a while to really accept and understand that my mom has dementia. Sadly, now that I am beginning to see how I really love and accept mom for who she was, is and will be, that I’d even have my hand with a tissue placed at the very hole of her anus just so I could fully catch her excrements and fully have her cleaned three to four times during my shift in looking after her, mom is already at the last stage.

           Two years of seeing how my dad, despite also being sick with hypertension and diabetes, managed to play his role very well as the man who stands by his wife “for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness or in health”; two years of my mom looking older than her actual age due to dementia; two years of seeing mom mentally and quite stubbornly battle her illness that rapidly eats her physical strength because “she still wants to live” for us; two years of me loving her but not really being able to show it until recently…

            Now all I could do is stand by her and be strong as she is being strong for dad and me. All I could do is increase the faith, even go to the extent of asking Him fervently to postpone the “light” that is now fetching my mom who is the “light”, the Aurora of our family, of our home.

On 9/11, almost 10 years after

I cannot or will not FULLY understand the emotions behind 9/11. No, I do not wish to claim a full comprehension of the enormity of it all.

When the twin towers of the World Trade Center collapsed, I was a freshman at the University of the Philippines-Diliman. My parents and I watched as shocked CNN news anchors struggled to find words to report what was unfolding before their very own eyes. I remember having just come home from school and finding my own jaw dropping involuntarily, my eyes, stunned at what I saw.

Now Osama Bin Laden, the brain behind those series of attacks in the US on 9/11, is dead. In fact, as of this typing, he's just been buried at an undisclosed location at sea. All of a sudden, a few minutes prior to this blog composition, I had found myself googling just how many firemen and policemen died on that day. There were 343 firemen. There were 72 policemen. And there was a dog.

Such fact had me realizing that while I was not really oblivious to what had happened since, it's only now, almost 10 years after this tragedy, that I feel like crying. Empathy, a word whose value I used to teach to my call center language trainees, struck me like a bolt of lightning and transported me to what happened a decade ago, effectively placing me into the shoes of those struggling to leave the struck towers and the shoes of those struggling to come in to save people all at the same time.

For years I've had recurring bad dreams of running down endless flights of stairs. What happened on September 11, 2001, along with natural calamities such as earthquakes, flashfloods and tsunamis, has really done nothing but reinforce my constant conscious fear of getting stuck inside a structure or a building during any kind of tragedy.

I always think, what if something, God forbid, happens to where I am? Do I run? Do I duck under a table? Do I even think of grabbing essential items if tragedy happens and I am at home? How about my sick dad? How about my other loved ones? Just how big are my chances of making it alive? Where and how do I live afterwards? Just how much money will it take for me to get my life back on track?

Such questions have me continuously trying to come to some form or semblance of preparedness. As I pack my bags in preparation for my return to the US in two months, more or less, I also grab whatever I can and feel as anything that I think I can add to my dad's "emergency kit". I've already made sure that his important documents are in one place. His medicines and first aid kit are in containers that can easily be grabbed and packed. And, oh yes, prayers. I've never stopped praying that the Philippines, especially my loved ones, be spared from anything horrible.

And after all these, I want to emphasize once again: I do not wish to claim a full comprehension of the enormity of 9/11. I cannot or will not FULLY understand the emotions behind it.

But my being human had me choked up with emotion when US President Barack Obama talked about how Bin Laden's death can't really bring to justice the void 9/11 left to families who have since tried to live without their loved ones. I can't, for the life of me, fully imagine how they managed to live the following day, the following week, and month, and year, without their fathers, mothers, husbands, wives, sons, daughters.

Then again, I'm fully capable of empathy. This, I'd like to believe, is the next best thing. I'm a wife to my husband. I'm a daughter to my father. I'm a friend, a co-worker, a colleague, a neighbor, a niece. I have a husband, a father, friends, colleagues, neighbors. Any one of us can die at any time due to both natural and unnatural causes. And if I or my loved ones or colleagues die because of evil men, I know, or (would) know, that someone like me, will come to this same stunned realization that I currently have. However late my tears seem to be, the very fact they're there symbolize that at least I won't be deemed a loveless coward like Bin Laden who, to the very end, just had to hide behind a human shield as members of the US Marines gave him an option to surrender.

I surrender to my being human. I care. I empathize. I feel. I think. I love.

On Security: Stick That In!

One of these days, I'll scold mall and MRT guards for NOT doing their job right. How many times have you experienced going through security personnel and seeing that these people are looking elsewhere as they dip their little sticks inside your bags? And how many times have you seen extraordinary colonial mentality on display as guards let through foreigners (hello, PBCom building guards!) and rich/beautiful-looking people without so much as of a thought of rummaging through their belongings?

I'm not a heartless freak. I know that the job these people do is tough and dangerous but following Osama Bin Laden's death, there looms a fear of retaliation against the US, its citizens and its allies.

Having said these, I truly hope that the management of airports, malls and other means of public transportation worldwide becomes more consistent at tightening their security measures. I don't mind having to go through that extra inconvenience if only to be assured that my loved ones and I are safe.

I miss...

... my old life.

Yes. Somehow, in some way (which I'll try to explain later...), I miss it.

Hanging out with a former training colleague, who happens to be my "next tower/building" neighbor, had me realizing this. As much as I know I wouldn't exchange what I have now, however difficult it is, with what I had in the past, I still can't help but long for certain aspects of my life that are either long gone or have yet to resurface.

Three years ago, I was so sure that I was bound for success in my chosen field. I was persistent  -  even if chances of getting promoted always seemed "so near yet so far". I was hopeful  -  even if I constantly had to face either new challenges or the repercussions of my work-related mistakes.

And then there's the ability of providing for yourself and for your loved ones. I was traipsing on ideas that with my wonderful career status, I could do so much financially. I could save, travel, shop, choose to invest on properties, further my studies, add credit lines. I could even have myself or my dad hospitalized, if the need came, and confidently have discharge papers processed knowing that everything's paid for (by the company health card and sometimes, by my bonuses).

In short I was doing what I know a grown up should be doing. The thoughts had me feeling fulfilled and satisfied. I thought, I may not be a manager yet but I'm getting there.

And the "getting there" part suddenly was stopped in its tracks by a series of fortunate and unfortunate events in my life that I sincerely do not regret. I swear, really, not at all.

It's been almost a  year and a half since I left my last company. My career has reached a valley  -  it feels like I'm going downhill and only God knows when or if I'll hit rock bottom. I know I sound horrible, miserable, glum, and yes I'm indulging/wallowing in self pity but man, this cycle of having to go down before rising again Just. Plain. Sucks.

According to online surveys, I'm a homemaker. Geez. It's actually otherwise known as a glorified unemployed married woman. I'm not even a full time homemaker! Well, I was one for five months and poof! I had to go back to the Philippines and wait for the approval of my petition papers. Leaving my husband there to decide for himself what to eat everyday is practically criminal negligence. Ugh.

Save for the measly sum I get as an amateur jewelry designer, my only other financial source is the help that my husband gives monthly. I'm married. I have to do the budgeting alone. The luxuries I was used to in the past, including buying a gift for my husband from the money I earned, do not have a place in my life as far as my unemployment is concerned.

Now I'm afraid that I'm not even a Jill of all trades anymore. I know I was never a master/mistress of anything but to actually refrain or stop from at least being a Jill of things I know I was good at? That's the worst possible scenario for me. Back to zero, so to speak.

Before all this career flatline, I was already at my goal of writing and talking smoothly in English. Now I admit I can barely hold a single conversation without having to inject certain Tagalog phrases or words every now and then. And yes, that's just the tip of the iceberg.

_______________________

Again. Please. Don't get me wrong. I do not regret my decision of resigning from my job in the Philippines to get married and join my husband in an almost six-month vacation in the US. More importantly, I also do not regret getting married. Having to sacrifice and share may have stopped my single life luxuries but this is something I really do not despise.

It's just... it's just... I'm on the verge of tears now. It's the ambitious career woman in me mourning, experiencing withdrawal symptoms.

Excuse me while I bawl myself to sleep.