When to say no.

I admire people who knows when to say no.

Especially when they say no right at the beginning.

I am the kind of person who, when asked a yes or no question,

would keep quiet and look down,

or shrug my shoulders and wear a stupid grin.

 

Today, one of my artists resigned

after five days of work.

She can't take the workload, she says.

She reported for work on Monday

and the following Monday she was absent.

She said she had fever since the weekend.

 

I remember working overtime until I was the last one in the office.

I remember working overtime and working at home.

I remember working at home, late into the night and into the wee hours of the morning.

I remember working on Friday nights, Saturdays and Sundays.

I remember staying up overnight at Burger King, working.

I don't know how to say no, I only know how to have a nervous breakdown.

When tears start to fall as I try to keep up from one deadline to the other,

thats the time my whole body says no and shuts down.

 

Recently, I became mother to this creative group.

I've learned it is easier to say no

when there are others involved.

I can work endlessly and kill myself in the process,

but I can hardly say the same for them.

So thank God I have these people under me,

finally I am learning to say no.

In time, I'll learn to say no even if it's just for me.

Willie, nawiwili ka na. Or Shakespeare and other metaphors for Mr. Revillame.

All the world's a stage to Willie Revillame.

Everyone plays a character.

Emotions are made-up.

Trap-doors and smoke and mirrors,

and hiding corpses behind curtains.

The choreographed applause,

the dancing, the singing,

the crying, the drama of life unfolding.

The crush of bodies.

The sweat that flows as secrets,

held on to for so long, are revealed

on national television.

And the money, the money that flows.

A payment for every dirty underwear exposed,

for every horrible gyration, screeches, screams.

So little for more than a pound of flesh.

The humiliation, the horror.

Ok lang, may bayad naman.

Everything has a value, and that's monetary.

Who cares if the happiness is momentary?

Sorry, but you're still screwed.

It's annoying when someone tells you sorry but does it anyway.

Maybe it's part of their job:

Hitman: Sorry, but I have to kill you now.

Carnapper: Sorry, but I have to take your car and torch you too.

Gov't Official: Sorry, but my break isn't over yet.

Advertising account executive: Sorry, but we need it in an hour.

It's a Friday and my mind knows it is.

I'm feeling a weekend deadline coming on.

Please, Lord, no.

Happy Yipee Yehey: Another half-baked noontime show?

Call me a backstage critic.

I'm a scriptwriter, a voice over, a propswoman, a floor director. In short, I work unseen, so you may work in a few bitterness in my tone.

I am also the market for these noontime shows.

From Lunchdate to Showtime and now, just this afternoon, to Happy Yipee Yehey.

First off, the opening number was unexpectedly expected. Ten days old into the Chinese New Year and they give us what? Yet another lion and dragon dance. I'd say it ended there.

After that it was a hodge podge of song and dance numbers, movie and show promos and games that were so obviously a rehash of other games here and abroad. The only saving grace was the Ikaw and Bida interactive game but even that was borrowed from Eat Bulaga and their long time invasion of the barangays. Ho hum. Done. Done. Done.

Not to mention that the pacing was painfully slow, people talked so damnably slow you would have wanted to rip out the words from their throats, the music, light and stage cues were a heartbeat later than expected. It was a test of patience to finish the show.

So anyway. Let us all hope that they do better on Monday.

On a positive note, Karylle, after her self-eviction, was made co-host of Showtime. Now that, is worth saying happy yipee yehey.

Getting and giving head.

I've neglected my blogs for quite a bit. The holidays have been filled, not with parties, but with work.

For a time I have been thinking of leaving advertising and perhaps working as a cashier at the MRT; move from mind racking to mind numbing. Finally find the time to sleep, the time to run in the mornings, the time to pull back and breathe and see myself in action, recently when I try, I see a blur, a woman always in a hurry, surprisingly spritely even when the pounds obviously have filled her up from hours and hours of sitting in front of the computer and living on fried and sauced office birthday food.

But perhaps all the holding on paid up. I started as a junior copywriter whose clothes and hairstyle were always the salty cheddar on every discussion. Who signed up to sing with the office band and had to back out at the last minute because she found out that she sucked at singing. Who was nominated by her boss to join a creative competition in Boracay and lost big time, again a disappointment. They put me from probationary to a regular employee but after I year of fashion faux pas and writing wreckage, I up and left.

Then once again I found my way to another ad agency. Became a senior copywriter. Went from snail's pace writing to lighting speed. Left the office when everyone else had to leave, plopped into the nearest Burger King, plugged in my laptop and went to work again until I had to go back to the office the following morning. I worked on spiels, concepts, pitches, video presentations, scripts, songs all on my own, I was super, I felt super and definitely I felt spent, tired, sleepless, underpaid, overused.

But all that drama perhaps has finally, thank Garp, paid off. Creative Head. Not bad for a 26 year old.

The Real Pulpy Deal: Minute Maid Pulpy has NO PRESERVATIVES :D

I just drank a bottle of Minute Maid Pulpy. They say it’s got ‘no preservatives added’. Aw, c’mon…It’s bottled juice. Is that even possible? So I thought maybe... I'm having my leg pulled.

 

I didn’t believe it the first time I heard it’s got no preservatives added.  So I read the ingredients (even the fine print) and everything checked out! It really has NO PRESERVATIVES ADDED!  That means it doesn’t have ingredients that may turn out to be allergens, or worse...carcinogens!  Whew! Now that’s healthy goodness that tastes so good, I... had to buy another bottle and drink it up fast!

 

So okay, it’s got no preservatives added. That’s really good, right?  Not just because it doesn’t have those icky, harmful ingredients, but it also means... it's good enough to drink every time I feel like I need a healthy drink.

 

So far anyone who still has a hard time believing that Minute Maid has got no preservatives added - meaning it's THAT natural, it's almost like it's plucked straight from the tree, it's just as Mother Nature wanted your orange juice to be, it's got nothing but the good stuff yes, none of those potentially toxic stuff that can harm your brain, kidneys, heart; cause tumors aargh- the list of preservatives' bad effects just go on!!! Anyway, just to prove a point on just how good Minute Maid Pulpy is 'cause it's got NO PRESERVATIVES ADDED, I'm gonna tell the world about it.

 

Feels good to know about the real pulpy deal, right? C’mon show me a smile on the comment box, and you might win yourself a Really Pulpy Deal! (That’s a chance to win a Minute Maid gift pack simply by commenting. Sweet! C'mon you just might be picked as the lucky 'commentor'!)

 

Love,

 

Mavicity

Bratty Bonita Laptop Bag Review

I recently got the Red Snakeskin Specialist that was on Christmas sale. 

I bought it online from brattybonita22.multiply.com, owned by Thea Secretaria, featured in Unang Hirit. She's a young entrepreneur and every girl probably want to have her life: bag designer, business owner, and an office girl that's mostly sent abroad.

I am generally an easy online buyer, meaning I don't ask too many things, I contact you for the order, I meet-up to pay and get the product. I've bought several things online including two laptops, a camera and the usual girlie wirlie stuff (read: whitening and slimming products).

This being my first time to buy a bag online, I was, as Thea summarized: so makulit. Probably because I don't usually buy bags even offline, I just wait for people to get tired of my bag and finally give me a new one. 

Anyway, I got my new bag by meeting up with Thea's mom, had a little chit chat at DQ Cubao and I was off with a very spunky lookin' laptop bag. Although I must admit I was a bit offed that there was no receipt for the not at all negligible sum of moolah I gave up, oh well, online shopping has such risks.

The first thing I noticed was that the black material looked like the brittle kind of pleather, remember when your black shoes would break up in parts that moved the most? It was the same black material on the handles as well which made the handles tough and to not mold to your shoulder.

The lining also packed a punchline. It was a red bag with a bright green lining. Hah. Although I must admit that the bright green lining made the insides a little more easier to navigate, especially with all the things I cram inside it, so in the end the color was definitely a plus.

I had to put glue on the belt-like designs so that they stay put and not cause tears in the red material where they were looped through.

But if you notice on the photo above, the bag has supports underneath so that the bottom need not touch ground even when you're shoulders are aching from the weight of your laptop and definitely had to put the bag down. The bag also stand up quite nicely and that's a big plus for those commuting via train, just put the bag down and clip it between your legs :D

Also your laptop, tiny or of cinematic proportions, is very well protected once inside the bag because of the Uratex padding. This also makes the bag a nice hugbuddy for the long commutes.

It's also quite an upgrade to my over-all look. An aunt asked me if it was a Prada. Hah! I wish, but hey, it does look as good as one.

So for recommendations, this one is definitely recommended. A must-buy for all of us girls who has to lug our laptops on our sexy backs day in and day out and still manage to look half-way decent and even fashionable. ;)

 

This is not a paid review.

You can find Bratty Bonita on multiply, facebook and twitter.

They also have another line called Tough Brat, see below. Love it. I wish I can have one of these for my birthday next month :D

Christmas indulgences: Two Bratty Bonita Laptop Bags!!

I promise to be very good... to myself this Christmas season.

I recently got myself a spunky new HP 12 megapixel touchscreen camera and now I've got my eyes on a Bratty Bonita Laptop Bag. Although I'd much want to get them all, they have an assortment of styles and colors and sizes, I must settle for just one, at least for now.

Bratty Bonita Laptop Bags has a facebook account, a multiply account, a twitter account, an email account for inquiries and made to order laptop bags and a very nice red snake skin Specialist laptop bag which is on sale this Christmas!

Phew, now that's one too many links in one breath, but whatever, you have to see their stuff to know why I'm frothing in the mouth and wanting to get one ASAP.

I've already ordered for the red snake skin kick ass Specialist laptop bag, so I'm not going to rave about that, not till I get my hands on it. For now, let me fantasize over one of their other designs that I want to get for my birthday, which is happening in January 21 thankyouverymuch!

The beauty I hope to get as a gift (hint hint) for my birthday is a lovely mint green croc Michaela laptop bag, see photo and drool ^_^

It's tough and got it's own shape so it's perfect for trotting around in the mall or commuting with. No nosy elbows (pun?) to hurt a tiny fragile netbook.

Also, it doesn't look like a dorky hi-im-a-laptop-bag-steal-me-now ensemble right? For my job this is very important. I get to do my ocular inspections and my out of office work assignments with peace of mind. If you've read my older blog, you'll know I once lost a Macbook to a thief and I'm not letting that happen ever again. Needless to say during the time the Macbook got stolen, I was using a dorky, black laptop bag. Never again!

Inside are compartments for the laptop and everything else. whee, I have to sheepishly smile. I'm a pack rat and my bags are usually a case for Niecy Nash to clean up (Who want's a clean Bag?) so having a bag with neat compartments should help me organize my life better. Tiny netbook, one or two notebooks and a trade paperback plus my pens would fit quite nicely in a Michaela.

As for the color, I've been wondering why I fell in love with mint green, the red Specialist was clear enough since there are only two colors I love and that is red and black, but this green one, well, it simply sends me a message to calm down, pull back and relax. Exactly what I need during stressful, long and tiresome meetings! Hah! Bring 'em on!

So there, I await my first Brartty Bonita laptop bag and hopefully get another one in time for my birthday.

I might have something made to order too. Try to exercise the creative muscles a bit.

If you love Bratty Bonita or would want to check them out, just click in the myriad links I have early on in this post. I hope you get one too and let's all get together in a mall: The First Ever Bratty Bonita Flash Mob! ;)

Watch out for my next post about my red snakeskin Specialist from BB. Gotta love!

 

My new rocket! My new blog! Ok fine, a new whitening toothpaste, too.

Mom gave me a new rocket yesterday. She keeps telling me it's not a rocket but a toothpaste tube. So much for fostering my imagination, Mom. Anyway, since we're all admitting that this is a toothpaste tube, the toothpaste inside this tube is magic. Yup, Magic.

It can whiten teeth with just one brush. Optical whitening you guys. Yeah, I'm smart that way. Anyway, it gives a blue coat to the yellowish and voila! Magically whiter teeth in just one brush!

Of course if you use it everyday, it also, another big word coming up: mechanically whitens your teeth. It's got one little bits of polishing silica that removes gunk and goo from our teeth.

Now, that we are all through with this being a toothpaste tube with magical toothpaste inside it... Ladies and gents, this is my rocket.

All a good but forgotten songwriter needs is some airtime.

I'm not a fan of Pilipinas Win na Win.

There are some parts that I'd rather do away with or improve. But I'm not one of the primary target markets of the show, so my opinion matters less. Over all it has been well received and now in it's first month, the show could actually live to see 2011.

When I was a kid, we had a multiplex album, it's has four cassette tapes of OPM songs, much of which are either sung or written by Rey Valera. I used to sing along to the minus one.

Not having watched Pilipinas Win na Win in it's entirety, I thought it felt and sounded like a Tawag ng Tanghalan kind of show. Has-been oldies hurt more to watch than young wannabes.

So today, with no pressing deadline to battle with, and with the TV turned on indefinitely, and me lying on the bed half-asleep, Pilipinas Win na Win was uninterruptedly enjoying airtime in my living room.

They were celebrating their 1st month, and for hosts that have to sign contracts on a weekly-basis (is this real Pokwang?), that indeed is a big sign. The Hitmakers started out very awkwardly. They have almost zero hosting skills. The other three were too courteous and couldn't crack a joke without a bottle of beer in hand, and Rico J falls into his beer house hosting skills too soon he actually gets cut off by a commercial in the middle of his banter with the obviously distressed Pokwang.

Well, today, all four of them have evolved to good hosts. The three have lost their shyness and Rico J have exfoliated a layer of extra thick and dark skin. But they had another surprise, Rey Valera wrote a song to thank the viewers who kept the ratings up and kept them signing the weekly contracts.

In my bed, I had to wake up and just simply stare at them singing. Because the song was so sincere and their singing was so giving and not self-absorbed, I was moved to tears. The song hinted on them being what they really were before Pilipinas Win na Win got them onboard: Rey, Rico, Nonoy and Marco were forgotten and shelved, or sent to other countries to serenade aging OFWs and immigrants. The song also hinted that well, they well already tired and ready to give up when finally someone decided, maybe by asking a magic8 ball, that they should host a noontime show. But most of all, the song was a thanksgiving, the song was an honest to goodness "thank you" to the people who cared enough to clap, who lent an ear to listen, and who wanted more of them that they had top spread the word. The Hitmakers: Rico, Rey, Nonoy and Marco were back and they ROCK, baby.

Forget the gimiks, forget the catchy made-up phrases, forget the dance moves, forget the novelty. Forget the lip-syncing host that sang cutesie songs and reeked of self-pride. Forget him and remember Rey Valera's words and the Hitmakers heart-felt, unselfish singing.

Good writers get better with age. Now I finally believe that being 25 and not having published anything is not my 2012. And now, I also believe that a how that's supposed to be as campy and cheesy as possible can be utterly classy and classic provided you choose the right hosts. A good songwriter never loses stories to tell, never loses talent, we just lose faith in him.

OPM is back. Rey Valera is back. Real music and meaning is back. Thank you Rey Valera. Thank you to the magic8 ball that the TV executive asked on whether he should get The Hitmakers to host Pilipinas Win na Win or not.

It does good to the heart when you have nothing bad to say. Real talent is not bound by youth. Pepe Smith and Rey Valera are the old but revitalized gods of Pinoy Music.

Christmas and the Copywriter

Ho ho ho. Hum.

Today I've received a brief to develop script for a Christmas Party.

Top Three Annoying Things Today

1. People having a penchant for work-disrupting music and NOT having earphones.

2. The proliferation of almost naked jocks in Jessica Zafra's blog.

3. Having another Christmas party script to write.

How to start writing.

Read.

The pleasure is mine.

Remind me again why exactly do I always have to put your feelings before mine?

Cause I totally forgot, and I'm no longer cowed by the faces you make. Like whatever, I can be a bitch too. I can talk your talk.

So excuse me if I step on your little footsies to get to the other side of the room. If you can perhaps move yourself away from my path?

 

Funny, I can't keep the bitch act for long. The muscle in my left eyebrow begins to show signs of fatigue at the second minute and it relaxes to it's normal pre-Miss Minchin position.

But sometimes it helps to play the evil sister, the evil stepmother, the troll under the bridge. There are two sides to everyone's coin and it hurts when we deny the dark side some airtime.

Just don't let the dark side reign I guess.

 

Anyway, bitchy me actually makes sense. You don't ALWAYS have to put others' feelings before yours'. Especially when you are a nonentity to them anyway. Give yourself a break. Let them sulk while you laugh.

On the verge, or emotional constipation

This is driving me crazy. I feel like there's something about to happen. I feel it running around in my gut. A heavy bionic man running around and weighing a tonne.

I am ever impatient.

The Cattywampus or Best Teacher I Ever Had by David Owen

Mr. Whitson taught sixth-grade science. On the first day of class, he gave us a lecture about a creature called the cattywampus, an ill-adapted nocturnal animal that was wiped out during the Ice Age. He passed around a skull as he talked. We all took notes and later had a quiz.

When he returned my paper, I was shocked. There was a big red X through each of my answers. I had failed. There had to be some mistake! I had written down exactly what Mr. Whitson said. Then I realized that everyone in the class had failed. What had happened?

Very simple, Mr. Whitson explained. He had made up all the stuff about the cattywampus. There had never been any such animal. The information in our notes was, therefore, incorrect. Did we expect credit for incorrect answers?

Needless to say, we were outraged. What kind of test was this? And what kind of teacher?

We should have figured it out, Mr. Whitson said. After all, at the every moment he was passing around the cattywampus skull (in truth, a cat's), hadn't he been telling us that no trace of the animal remained? He had described its amazing night vision, the color of its fur and any number of other facts he couldn't have known. He had given the animal a ridiculous name, and we still hadn't been suspicious. The zeroes on our papers would be recorded in his grade book, he said. And they were.

Mr. Whitson said he hoped we would learn something from this experience. Teachers and textbooks are not infallable. In fact, no one is. He told us not to let our minds go to sleep, and to speak up if we ever thought he or the textbook was wrong.

Every class was an adventure with Mr. Whitson. I can still remember some science periods almost from beginning to end. On day he told us that his Volkswagon was a living organism. It took us two full days to put together a refutation he would accept. He didn't let us off the hook until we had proved not only that we knew what an organism was but also that we had the fortitude to stand up for the truth.

We carried our brand-new skepticism into all our classes. This caused problems for the other teachers, who weren't used to being challenged. Our history teacher would be lecturing about something, and then there would be clearings of the throat and someone would say ``cattywampus.''

If I'm ever asked to propose a solution to the problems in our schools, it will be Mr. Whitson. I haven't made any great scientific discoveries, but Mr. Whitson's class gave me and my classmates something just as important: the courage to look people in the eye and tell them they are wrong. He also showed us that you can have fun doing it.

Not everyone sees the value in this. I once told an elementary school teacher about Mr. Whitson. The teacher was appalled. ``He shouldn't have tricked you like that,'' he said. I looked that teacher right in the eye and told him that he was wrong.

http://www.comp.nus.edu.sg/~leonghw/Courses/cattywampus.html

Reading Zafra.

It's 2am and I'm reading Jessica Zafra's blog.

When I read her, I feel like I want to be her.

When I read her, I feel like I can't ever be her.

When I read her, I feel like, ew, sports?

Is she my IDOL? God forbid, I hate that word.

Somehow she just fits my everyday mood.

The standard-issue Mavic is made in Zafraland.

10 parts sarcasm, 90 parts genius. Yup, that would be me.

Or maybe I'm more of 90 parts sarcasm. 10 parts whinny ninny.

Do I like cats? No.

I have two dogs. The left and the right. Shit. It is 2am ok. Yeah, you just read that.

Do I like tennis? No.

I swim. I do indoor looser exercise DVDs and I think that Chalene Johnson is god.

Do I have sponsorships with National Bookstore? No.

Ok, yes, Zafra is out of my system.

For now. I can finally write about other things.

Exeunt left!

Change

One day

you start to realize

how many times you work

late night

on

a

weekend.

Who me

Who me?

I Shuriken Kitty!

I sink claws!

Is me good or bad? You decide.

But never believe.

Born with claws, I sink!

Love your heart, I sink!

Eat your words, I sink!

Listen me, Shuriken

Watch shadows, Shuriken

Silent strikes, happy smile, Shuriken

Shuriken Kitty born of desire

Of hate, of cute too!

Kiss black fur, hate silver claws

I live because she hates, sink!

Sink! Sink!

Life is short, make it sweet.

Kahapon muntik na akong masagasaan ng jeep. Patawid ako sa may Kamuning, huminto na yung isang jeep para padaanin ako, nung paungos na ako at palagpas sa jeep, may nagovertake naman, ika nga nila, na face to face ako with a possible ending to my life.
Mabilis ang jeep na nagovertake, ilang saglit lang kaharap ko na siya. Ako naman huminto sa pagkilos at nanlambot. Malambot, naramdaman ko kung papano ako kayang ligisin ng jeep na yon, kayang kaya ikalat ang katawan ko sa kalsada.
Buti nalang. Gumalaw ako, umiwas at nakaligtas.
Pagdating ng hapon, alas sais na, pauwi na kami dapat. Hindi pa siya nagtetext. Nakailang text na ako. Tumawag, cannot be reached. Kasabay ng kaba ng dibdib ko ang pagharurot at pagalingawngaw ng ilang truck ng bumbero na dumaan mismo sa tapat ng opisina. Ang mga kasama ko, nagsitawag na sa kanilang pamilya, inaalam kung ayos lang ba sila. Ako, ang taong mahalaga sa akin, cannot be reached.
Pag-uwi ko, matapos ang dalawang oras na biyahe, bukas na ang ilaw, nandon na rin ang mga damit niyang suot suot kaninang umaga, hay salamat po at okay siya, pero walang sumasagot sa mga katok ko, taning ang aso lang na hindi naman ako mapagbuksan. Sinubukan kong tumawag ulit, may sumagot na, nanginginig ang boses ko, umiiyak na ako.
Bago ang araw na ito galit ako sa kanya, dahil sa mga ka-text niyang babae. Ganon siguro pag mahal mo ang isang tao, nung sinagot na niya ang tawag ko at nalaman kong nasa tindahan lang pala siya bumili ng load matapos makapagcharge sa bahay, ang saya ko, ang saya ko ding niyakap siya nung magkita na kami.
Kung nagkataon, nasagasaan ako nung umagang yon, kung nagkataon, building nila yung nasabugan. Sa isang iglap, maaaring mawala ang lahat. Naisip ko noon, dapat pigilan ko ang aking sarili sa pagmahal sa kaniya, dahil sinabi naman na niyang paulit ulit na hindi pa niya kayang magmahal uli, pero papano, papano kung isang araw maligis ako ng sasakyan, papano kung isang araw tuluyang hindi ko na siya ma-reach. Kaya mamahalin ko siya ng buong kakayanan ko, simula ngayon at sa bawat segundong magkasama kami.

Holidays from the crypt

I'm a sullen Zafra mode right now. This is the worst Christmas party since Grade 1. And I'm a whiny bitch.

Printing Operations Manager Needed

An offset printing business based in Antipolo is looking for a Manager.

Please send your resume to marketing@adrienmultimedia.com or msrelayson@gmail.com

Thanks guys.

www.placemad.com

Confound it! Nah, compound it.

Okay, so I wake up today with a hideous credit rating. I've emailed my card company and told them I'm canceling and will be making arrangements to pay off my balance.

And then I thought, this is crazy, I can't do this for the rest of my tax-paying life. If I can afford, so the gov't says, to give 20% of my yearly hard-earned pay to the gov't as taxes, then I hope to Midas that I can pay myself 10% annually. Ok, so there's that. I realize I was writing my resolutions in advance.

Anyway, 10% annually is not that bad. Hmmm. Well, from zero, no from negative, to 18,000 savings a year is definitely not bad. But I'm a dreamer and a slacker, so I want to retire by age 50, as in not lift a finger by age 50 type of retirement. That's 18,000 * (50-24) = 468,000. If I plan to live another 30 years after 50, then that's a mendicant living of 1,300 a month. Not very much worth living for.

So I get all boiled up and crazy, searching the web for solutions. Tah dah! Mutual funds! For a very can do away with amount of 5,000 initial investment and succeeding 1,000 deposit every now and then, you can earn an annual average of something a little over the inflation rate, let's say 11.8%. That's important because inflation rate means your peso today is worth dust in ~12 years, if the rate is 8%. 

Ok, so on the first year that's 5,000+(1,000*12)=17,000*(1+11.8%)=19,006!!! On the first year you've earned 2,006, which you can withdraw minus the rate (around 3%) that the bank or the processing company charges for withdrawals. Anyway, let’s cut the math, I’m not even sure if it’s precise, although it was fun figuring it out. On the 22^nd anniversary of your investment, you would’ve become a millionaire, it would have grown into 1,075,224.66, and over the course of those 22 years, your total withdrawals would be 824,273.66. If I’m 24 by January, plus 22 years, I can retire by age 46 ^_^

But let’s say I get a raise and I can afford NOT to withdraw the monthly earnings. I just keep depositing 1,000 every month and forget about it. Well, that makes me a millionaire by the 21^st anniversary of my investment, a whopping 1,121,427.46

Ok, maybe I did the math a bit wrong but the whole point of it is, 5,000 initial investment and 1,000 every month… Come on, that’s less than what we pay for taxes! I say if we can give the gov’t 20% of our pay, we can give ourselves 10% back each month. It’s not as instant as winning our first million on a game show, but neither is it as embarrassing nor as having such a statistically low probability and it’s definitely worth it. And if a writer can figure this much out, so can you. 

Green-Collar Jobs, I want one, but where do I sign up?

from http://www.greenforall.org/green-collar-jobs

What Are Green-Collar Jobs?

Background

What’s the best way to give Americans of all socioeconomic backgrounds a tangible stake in fighting for issues like global warming?

Easy: Make it their livelihood. Every day, about 135 million people go to work in the U.S. Imagine what would happen if millions of those jobs—plus new ones created for people who are currently unemployed—were in fields like renewable energy, sustainable agriculture, and green building.

Our two crucial concerns about survival—the environment and making a living—would be combined. A person’s commitment to their job would also be their commitment to the planet. Right now, there’s a great opportunity not only to make America’s economy stronger by making it greener, but to make Americans living in poverty part of a revitalized middle class. The first thing we have to do is provide the training that will turn 20th century blue-collar jobs into secure 21st-century green-collar jobs. Did You Know... There’s already a huge green economy developing. In 2006 renewable energy and energy efficiency technologies generated 8.5 million new jobs, nearly $970 billion in revenue, and more than $100 billion in industry profits. According to the National Renewable Energy Lab, the major barriers to a more rapid adoption of renewable energy and energy efficiency in America are insufficient skills and training. In December 2007, President Bush signed the Green Jobs Act to train workers for green collar jobs. It authorizes $125 million for workforce training programs targeted to veterans, displaced workers, at-risk youth, and families in extreme poverty. It will train people for jobs like installing solar panels and weatherization. Green-Collar Jobs…  Rebuild a Strong Middle Class Provide Pathways Out of Poverty Require Some New Skills (and some new thinking about old skills)  Tend to be Local Jobs  Strengthen Urban and Rural Communities Protect Our Health and the Health of the Planet  Learn More... We're developing a clearinghouse full of resources, case studies, and tools from people all around the country who are working to implement green-collar jobs.  Explore it: www.greenforall.org/resources For a more detailed overview of green-collar jobs, read: www.greenforall.org/resources/green-collar-jobs-overview

Ok, I'm relenting. I'll retire by 50.

Your XX000.00 current monthly income will be Php 34380.00 after 17.00 years at inflation of 5% a year. The 34380.00 a  month is Php 412560.00 in a year. You should have a net retirement fund (after 17.00 years) amounting to Php 4125600.00 that earn not less than20.00% per annun to give you Php 34380.00 a month or Php 412560.00 in a year to sustain your current lifestyle without working.In order to have that retirement of Php 4125600.00, you need to start saving Php 38946.25 a year or Php 3245.52 per month for the next 17.00 years at a rate of 20.00% per annum.

If I want to retire by 40, according to Colayco

Your XX000.00 current monthly income will be Php 34,380.00 after 17.00 years at inflation of 5% a year. The 34,380.00 a month is Php 412,560.00 in a year. You should have a net retirement fund (after 17.00 years) amounting to Php 4,125,600.00 that earn not less than 20.00% per annum to give you Php 34,380.00 a month or Php 412560.00 in a year to sustain your current lifestyle without working. In order to have that retirement of Php 4,125,600.00, you need to start saving Php 38,946.25 a year or Php 3,245.52 per month for the next 17.00 years at a rate of 20.00% per annum.

I'm not buying fire.

The first I heard of a fire sale was in a movie, an action movie, a franchise action movie.  

The first time I've read a comicbook (ok, ok graphic novel) that centered on a market crash is Wood and Donaldson's Supermarket. 

Then I got my hands on an American Civil War book called Banished Children of Eve which also revolved around a market crash, gold versus greenbacks, and yes, you guessed right, greenbacks won. 

Anyway, earlier today I read about a Black Sunday on Wall Street. Not knowing what a Black Sunday is, I went on and clicked the link. And this was what I read:

Lehman Brothers (NYSE: LEH), the 158-year-old firm that managed to survive the Civil War, the Wall Street panic of 1907, the crash of 1929, the Great Depression, and a handful of bond-trading scandals, hedge-fund collapses, and market panics, has filed for bankruptcy -- the largest bankruptcy in history. Attempts to line up a last-minute sale over the weekend crumbled as front-runners Bank of America (NYSE: BAC) and Barclays(NYSE: BCS) decided a Lehman takeover deal wasn't feasible without government backing.

And all I've read and heard about market crashes and what not, came rushing into my mind. Came crashing into my mind, actually. I'm broke, bankrupt, beyond saving and it's eerily comforting, a fire sale, I mean. Or a crash. 

It feels like a storm coming, a cleansing, a baptism, Of fire. 

Or maybe this is just a plot running rampant in my mind. I better write it down. 

Ecological Footprint Quiz by Redefining Progress: Reduce your footprint

Link

http://mavicity.wordpress.com/

I have moved. 

Looking for a new blog site.

And a new notebook. Yes, this is a case of the medium affecting the message. And no, that is not just adspeak. 

First of, for a writer, or at least someone who claims to be, my output is pretty slim. My technique hasn't blossomed but has in fact withered to crumbs. My entries are either rants or ripped from other sites. And my notebook is on its last pages but unfortunately what fills it is not worthy of any sort of publication. 

So I am prepping myself for a more prolific month ahead, I want to say year but I'll be strict with the deadline and say that next month I would have at least one output a day or write at least 500 words to finally get some more pages into that novel that's been in the bin at the back of my mind. 

With that goal, I'm looking for a cleaner, much less chubby-on-the-edges type of blog site. A format that stimulates sharper thinking and longer output. If I'm honest, I'll tell you I'm growing out of the cuteness of Multiply. 

I've moved a lot. I hope this next move means my muse will move in again with me. 

  

Old, yes, but fascinating.

I am fond of second hands. Books, clothes, houses, stories, people. Pre-owned, pre-loved, hand-me-downs, used. 

I week ago, with money not enough to last for the week, I found a second hand bookstore and couldn't resist adopting a few books. Just two actually, drawing the line on an Adrian Mole book, it was big but so was the price and I had to consider whether or not I wanted to walk all the way to the office for the rest of the work week. But I got Joan Didion's White Album and Jamaica Kincaid's Lucy. Happy and giddy and 70 pesos poorer, I went back to the dorm for at least four nights quiet and curled up in my lower bunk bed. 

Today I'm wearing a little black bubble dress bought from a second hand clothes shop. I paired it with black stockings and my old and worn at the edges white wedge shoes. 

I'm an expert mover. I've lived in dorms, boarding houses, friend's houses, boyfriends' apartments, parents' houses, rented rooms, studio-types. All with traces and sometimes scars of its previous occupant. Whispers of stories reverberating and untold within its walls.

I've written nothing much and yet I claim to be a writer. But I can tell you borrowed stories, stories that other people and other beings in my dreams have lent me. I do not know if I wish to create, perhaps it's such a chore if not at all becoming less possible as centuries grow old and tales tell themselves over and over, spilling from people's minds, coated with thin newness. 

I look years beyond my real age. Old, yes, but I strive to be as fascinating as my second hands. A lived life, a story told, pre-loved, pre-owned.   

Modern Chinese Proverbs

Virginity like bubble, one prick, all gone.

Man who run in front of car get tired.

Man who run behind car get exhausted.

Man with hand in pocket feel cocky all day.

Foolish man give wife grand piano, wise man give wife upright organ.

Man who walk through airport turnstile sideways going to Bangkok.

Man with one chopstick go hungry.

Man who scratch ass should not bite fingernails.

Man who eat many prunes get good run for money.

Baseball is wrong: man with four balls cannot walk.

Panties not best thing on earth! But next to best thing on earth.

War does not determine who is right, war determine who is left.

Wife who put husband in doghouse soon find him in cat house.

Man who fight with wife all day get no piece at night.

It take many nails to build crib, but one screw to fill it.

Man who drive like hell, bound to get there.

Man who stand on toilet is high on pot.

Man who live in glass house should change clothes in basement.

Man who fish in other man's well often catch crabs.

Man who fart in church sit in own pew.

Crowded elevator smell different to midget.

My latest pin-up boy: Oscar Pistorius

My boy made it to Time 100: Most Influential People in the World. 

Oscar Pistorius

By Erik Weihenmayer

When I was learning how to climb mountains as a blind person, I had a lot of encouragement from experts. But after I summited Mount Everest, these people weren't ready to accept what I had done at face value. Some said I must have cheated; one even claimed I had an unfair advantage: "I'd climb Mount Everest too if I couldn't see how far I had to fall."

Similarly, when Oscar Pistorius' lower legs were amputated at age 1, few would have banked on this South African challenging world-class sprinters. At 20, when he began to close in on an Olympic-qualifying time for the 400 m, experts posited that his times were so good, he must have been getting an un-fair advantage from his bladelike prosthetics. When he set his sights on the Olympic Games in Beijing, the International Association of Athletics Federations (IAAF) ruled he couldn't compete against able-bodied athletes. An IAAF-initiated study found that more energy is returned to Pistorius' upper legs from his blades than from ankles and calf muscles and that he uses less oxygen.

Pistorius, 21, is appealing, on the basis of studies with differing results. It was only recently that living with prosthetic legs was seen as a huge impediment, but he has turned this perception upside down. He's on the cusp of a paradigm shift in which disability becomes ability, disadvantage becomes advantage. Yet we mustn't lose sight of what makes an athlete great. It's too easy to credit Pistorius' success to technology. Through birth or circumstance, some are given certain gifts, but it's what one does with those gifts, the hours devoted to training, the desire to be the best, that is at the true heart of a champion.

Weihenmayer is the only blind person to conquer Mount Everest

http://www.time.com/time/specials/2007/article/0,28804,1733748_1733756_1735285,00.html

Investing In Your 20s

Get Started--Now 
OK, you've graduated with a pile of debt from student loans, and you're making real money at a real job for the first time in your life. Retirement seems as distant as the Himalayas, but now's the time to get started. (No kidding.) 

Get The Facts 
Some of your friends may attempt to extend adolescence by going to graduate school to study arcane subjects. But if you're out of school, you've learned life's basic lesson: You're on your own, and everything is up to you. Devote your studies to the beauty of the 401(k). Read up on taxes. You can't plan without information. 

Make A Plan 
Your stylish friends will hoot, but develop a written retirement plan. Set goals and determine what you need to achieve them. The plan will change over time, but without a goal and a blueprint, it's easy to do nothing--and nothing will get done. 

Start Saving 
Consider setting aside 10% of your gross pay each month. Stupid-proof contributions to your 401(k) by making them automatic. This means you won't have to run to the bank each month, and you can't spend the money foolishly. You'll soon discover that it's easy to adjust your expenses to meet available cash. 

Stick With It 
Once you've set up a 401(k), don't tinker with the automatic contributions and don't borrow against it for a glorious trip to Europe with your sweetie. Keep an eye on your investments and broaden your study of investing. It's positive feedback: The more you know, the easier it is to learn more--and you'll make better investment decisions. 

Burgeoning Gut 
Shocking but true: The 28-inch-waist jeans you wore as an undergraduate may be tight in your late 20s. So, work on keeping your gut under control and that other peril of youth, debt. Many young people run up huge credit-card debts. This is stupid--check the interest rate. It also delays putting money aside for retirement. 

Don't Count On Uncle Sam 
The world has changed since the 1930s when Social Security was created. People live longer and will spend more time in retirement. The Baby Boomers will break Social Security, or force it to be changed beyond recognition. That means you can't depend on government programs in retirement. It's up to you. 

excerpt form: http://www.forbes.com/2004/09/28/cx_sr_0928retirement_2.html

When you want the most of your money

When you get your first "real" job:

 

Start a savings account to build a cash reserve.

Start a retirement fund and make regular monthly contributions, no matter how small.

When you get a raise:

 

Increase your contribution to your company-sponsored retirement plan.

Invest after-tax dollars in municipal bonds that offer tax-exempt interest.

Increase your cash reserves.

When you get married:

 

Determine your new investment contributions and allocations, taking into account your combined income and expenses.

When you want to buy your first house:

 

Invest some of your non-retirement savings in a short-term investment specifically for funding your down payment, closing, and moving costs.

When you have a baby:

 

Increase your cash reserves.

Increase your life insurance.

Start a college fund.

When you change jobs:

 

Review your investment strategy and asset allocation to accommodate a new salary and a different benefits package.

Consider your distribution options for your company's retirement savings or pension plan. You may want to roll over money into a new plan or IRA.

When all your children have moved out of the house:

 

Boost your retirement savings contributions.

When you reach 55:

 

Review your retirement fund asset allocation to accommodate the shorter time frame for your investments.

Continue saving for retirement.

When you retire:

 

Carefully study the options you may have for taking money from your company retirement plan. Discuss your alternatives with your financial advisor.

Review your combined potential income after retirement and reallocate your investments to provide the income you need while still providing for some growth in capital to help beat inflation and fund your later years.

excerpt from: http://www.wachovia.com/misc/0,,143,00.html

ALCOHOL BAN

I am putting myself under lifetime alcohol ban after totally conking out at Cathy's birthday party last Saturday. Suffice it to say that the party lasted until 3am but I only remember the events until about 11.30. Beyond that, I was probably in some alcoholic's limbo, swishing in my own puke.

So please, if you don't want me to sock you in the head, don't ever put an alcoholic beverage near me. EVER. I'll go rabid and bit off your knickerboxers, I swear. 

Blocked

The day does not begin, does not peak, nor does it end between these white walls. It just remains to be. A stale entity, an overbearing presence, a necessary white demon perched on your shoulder describing a path you'd rather not travel today, or probably ever. 

But I do not see the walls, not white walls at least, but grey, steel, colder, closer walls. Pricking my skin, tattooing colors inhuman, injecting previously rejected memories, preventing movement, confining stories.

Within these steel rectangles pressed upon my back, my face, my appendages, my mind wanders, alone, within itself, testing every step from one grey crumbling lobe to another. Skeletons of past thoughts, devoid of meat and meaning, tumbleweeds like quips and wisps of ideas, flee my mind, and is left, and leaves without any story, not even a string of words, in tow. 

Hoy dia luna dia pena

hoy dia luna dia pena
hoy me levanto sin razon
hoy me levanto y no quiero
hoy dia luna dia pena

the moon owns today, mourns today

wake up today without reason

get up today without desire

the moon today is owned, mourned

 

hoy dia luna dia pena
hoy me levanto sin razon
hoy me levanto y no veo
por ahi cualquiera solucion

arriba la luna ohea...

today, moonday, sad day

today i get up without reason

today i get up and don't see

no other solution

the moon rises

hoy dia luna dia pena
hoy me levanto sin razon
hoy me levanto y no quiero
hoy dia luna dia muero

arriba la luna ohea...

today, moonday, sad day

today i get up without reason

today i get up but don't want to

today, moonday, deathday

rise, o moon

Song by Manu Chao, poor translation by me.

This is exactly how I feel right now. A heavy sick evil weighs me down. 

Mi ultimo semana.

I really have nothing much to say about this.

April falls on Boracay

Just got back from a 3-day company planning in Boracay. How cool is that. No really. It was fantastic. Although, admittedly, it would have been better sans 30 pounds, but still.
Day 1.
Classroom day!
We left our bags in our hotel's front desk (Two Seasons) and then proceeded to the conference room of Pearl of the Pacific. We were broken up into 3 teams, played Pinoy Henyo, and then brainstormed for new projects. Everyone was surprisingly productive, probably because the beach was but a few meters away and we all wanted out of that classroom fast. But the excitement of Bora didn't prevent us from extending time to accommodate the ideas that we had. Uh-huh, we went overtime brothers and sisters! Imagine that. That's dedication and passion for y'all.
Day 3. Team-building
We started early, as in 8am early, and that's for people who usually get to sleep at 8am, if we're lucky. But who's going to complain? The earlier we open our eyes, the more we get out of Bora. We rented out a boat for island hopping, personally, swimming with all those fishies was the best part. I ditched the floaters early on because it only helped to choke me. And I became a happy little Ursula swimming with the little fishies. What fun! Then we went on to an -un-fun place, Pukka Beach. I can't, for the life of me, think why that would be the end part of the tour, we got ripped off even, their prices were 25% more than d'mall, and all there was to see was a small patch of rugged beach and sticks and grass structures. Really now.
Then we went back to the hotel and regrouped. We were out on a hunt with 1k per team. The treasures were: 1 photo of a super sexy bikini-clad girl, the jologest Boracay shirt, pinakabastos na souvenir, best shake, cheapest sarong. Our team hooked up with a half-Scottish, half-Filipina bodaciuos babe, albeit a little bit drunk but still very kind and even hitched up her tiny cover-up for us. We got a shirt with a kid and dolphin, hello are you in Subic? From 150 I haggled the price of the sarong down to 120. We bought one watermelon shake, not from Jonah's. And got a dick-shaped pair of slippers, in crimson red. Perfect! And the winner is! Beauty and the Best! That's us. We won all the things the other teams presented, though we were apprehensive about the shirts, and the money they saved! Hooray!
Oh, and I scraped my nose off the very grainy wall of the hotel pool. Nuff said. Pictures later.
Day 3. Free day!
Beach day! We were in the water for half the day. Taught some of my officemates to swim. Saw this man crossing the length of the beach, breaststroke and thought I'd try it too. Happy! I did it! Next time I'm in Bora, I'm gonna try to breaststroke the length of station 1. Whee!
Then we had to leave. And the sucky part was the heat in the Caticlan airport.
But all in all, it was the best company planning I've had!
Three cheers for Y&R!

Big is a celebration of small

Dream big, shoot for the moon, look up to the giant.
But do not lose faith in your smallness, in your beginning, in what you can do with the speck that you are occupying not even a dot in the universe's timeline.

I know I have a reason for writing this. An insight supernova'ed in my mind. But later, I'll tell you later.

Save Bear, Please?

Too Gauche for Gucci

I remember a fuming thesis adviser storming into his faculty room and successfully popping several arteries and veins from his already nervous-as-hell students. He read, or heard, or watched from somewhere, I couldn't really recall how he got about this message, this was two years ago, but here: Celine Lopez and Tim Yap was declared literary icons because of their much-talked-about, and apparently much-read, columns in the Philippine Star. He said if that was the standard, why do we even bother with literary theories and endless nights of working out plots, character histories, etc etc?
We were certainly too gauche for Gucci and thankfully so. With rumors of ghost writers, cocacabana parties, and unpaid debts, you just can't charge too much to artistic license.

Finding your place in the sun

is not as easy as getting a tan. Did I just say that? Haha. I thought it sounded good. Anyway I just thought of letting my thoughts out of my crowded mind. I think they're bcoming a little bit crowded up there, not very insightful thoughts even, perhaps there were at first but you know the story of rotten tomatoes and perfectly plump and healthy ones stuck in the same basket right? So I'm just gonna write, anything and everything that I can snatch out of my thoughts, no editing, just a long blab. My right shoulder blade hurts like hell. Does hell hurt? Does it inflict pain or does it receive pain?
Well, that wasn't so bad, now I'm reminded of hell closing and again of Lucifer in a beach and his scars running parallel on his back, and him appreciating the sunset.
But my back intrudes on my thoughts again. It hurts! Like hell!

Poseur Extraordinaire Exposed!

The great pretender has run out of smokes and mirrors and has finally been caught in her own commoners skin. A failed expected polymath prodigy. A thousand and one much-a-do out of an empty barrel.
Now she just wants to go home, far back into her mother's belly.
Self-discovery is not recommended for sheep in mink fur.

More than one cause for sniffling

I woke up with teary eyes and watery mucus freely flowing from my nostrils. Possibly from downing too much granma and c2 the night before.
I am ending my day donning a huge dunce cap. I am beginning to question my mortality in the advertising industry. Earlier I found myself browsing through the classifieds again, it felt rather like half-heartedly choosing a building plan for an ark; an anticipation for the worst, for literally the end of days. At least in advertising.
I've swallowed about 50 tablets of 500mg ascorbic acid, in quite reasonable intervals, with hopes of shortening the time of sickness. I can't afford to be absent, seeing that I might need to pay for that stolen iBook, plus the rent and utilities.
I've had a triple dose of ad blogs the whole day, hoping to hone my judgment skills on which ad would win and which ad would be downright humiliating.
All I want to do is go home and have someone take care of me.
Well, I can always get a dog.

Wanted: Magnanakaw ng Laptop

Caught in the act of thinking how to lift the laptop just in front of where he was sitting. The office's laptop. An iBook G4.

We were volunteers in an event, you see, and lot's of guys were sewing dolls with kids and kids at heart, sitting on beanie bags. So this guy came in, sat on one of the beanie bags for some time, not once touched a thread, and just waited for the people to stop noticing him. Good thing we have a witness. Someone actually saw him take the bag with the laptop inside and leave with it. Too bad she didn't know he wasn't part of the volunteers. The damned guy just did a good job blending in.

I wasn't there when the laptop was stolen. I entrusted it in the care of someone else. Note to self: never ever leave anything valuable in another's hands.

Attached is the police report. Not that you'll understand the events, what with the kind of english the policeman had, but you'll know that this is real and not just stupid spam material.

Another thing you should know, The Podium doesn't have a security camera, at least they had none when the laptop was stolen on Feb 20, 2008. I hope they install some soon. Police dogs, no matter how well trained, just can't sniff out criminal intent.

Akalain mo, si Mavic gumugulong!

Tama, tama ang basa mo kaibigan. Kagabi lang pagulong-gulong ako sa Macea at sa kung saan mang park yon na malapit sa condo ni Bennet. Salcedo park pala yun.
Napakasaya pala magLONGBOARD! Sa kung sino man sa inyo ang nakabasa sa isa sa mga una kong blog entry dito kung saan nagdadrama ako dahil sa hindi nga ako mapagkakatiwalaan sa kahit anong may gulong, pwes ngayon nadiscubre ko na may pagasa pala ako sa paglolongboard! Arrrrrh!
Salamat kay Fabo at Joey sa pagpapahiram ng boards nila. At kay Dante, Kat, Lao, at sa pinsan ni Fabo. Sila ang mga ka-jam namin sa skate.
Alas diez na ata noon, katatapos lang ng isang araw ng paghahanda para sa pitch, at maglolongboard na sina Joey at Fabo. Sa hindi ko malamang kadahilanan, niyaya nila ako. Eh dahil mga Diyossing ko sila, at medyo naintriga naman ako sa longboard nga na yan, jumoin ako. Siguro mga 5 mins akong tinuruan ni Fabo magpush-off, tapos medyo bumabalanse na ako, aba by my second hour, nakakaliko na ako! Fantabulous talaga. Pero nung nasa Salcedo Park na kami, medyo steeper yung slope kaya nung paliko na ako, hindi ko natantsa yung speed at distance, kaya ayun, sumemplang. Pero ang una kong hinabol, ang board! Haha. Walang pagpagpag sa katawan o check kung bakit mahapdi ang paa ko.
Napakasaya talaga niya. Winner.
Puro Ladera ang boards nila, Bomber, Purple Heart, Respect, at yung iba hindi ko na alam. Magseskate kami ulit later. :D Wala lang. And saya.

Look at me I'm 23, beautiful, a sight to see tonight

A little dress to draw the press
And I'll be leaving
All the rest behind

Well be pleased girl
If this is what you wanted
The whole world is watching you take the stage
What will you say

Aren't I lovely
And do you want me cause
I am hungry for something that will make me real
Can you see me and
Do you love me cause
I am desperately searching for something
Real

I close my eyes imagine time
Will not forget
My sacrifice

I numb the ache and decorate
My emptiness
Stand naked in the light

Well be pleased world
If this is what you wanted
This young girl is everything that you made
What will she say

Aren't I lovely
And do you want me cause
I am hungry for something that will make me real
Can you see me and
Do you love me cause
I am desperately searching for something
Real

The world goes home
The lights go down
My lipstick fades
Away

And do you want me cause
I am hungry for something that will make me real
Can you see me and
Do you love me cause
I am desperately searching for something
Real



--------

I've a snug feeling under all my soft belly fat. Now I can finally sing this song and mean it. Yes, including the beautiful part. But perhaps not much of the desperate. But maybe I am searching. And yes, for someone real. Happy snug feeling in mavsies tumtums. :)

Retaso Mo, Manikako!

I-raid na ang mga cabinet at ilabas na ang mga inaamag at di na usong t-shirt, puruntong at bacon briefs! Yang skinny jeans at slinky top na yan, never na yan magkakasya sa yo! At ang frilly top ay mawawala na sa uso! Ipamigay nalang sa Retaso Mo, Manikako! boxes sa Faculty Center ng UP Diliman or sa UP IS. Pwede ding sa Podium o sa RCBC Tower.

Sa ido-donate mong gamit, makakagawa ng maraming Manikako para ibenta para may moolah for free art workshops sa mga kids na kapus-palad. Matututo din silang gumawa ng Manikako!

Visit www.manikako.com for photos. At kung naexcite kang gumawa ng Manikako super cute, mag-volunteer na din sa website! Panoorin mo rin si Medyas, ang patapong medyas na nagbigay ngiti sa isang bata dahil sa pagiging Manikako niya!

Kaya, dali, baliktarin na yang cabinet na yan!

Retaso Mo, Manikako!

I-raid na ang mga cabinet at ilabas na ang mga inaamag at di na usong t-shirt, puruntong at bacon briefs! Yang skinny jeans at slinky top na yan, never na yan magkakasya sa yo! At ang frilly top ay mawawala na sa uso! Ipamigay nalang sa Retaso Mo, Manikako! boxes sa Faculty Center ng UP Diliman or sa UP IS. Pwede ding sa Podium o sa RCBC Tower.

Sa ido-donate mong gamit, makakagawa ng maraming Manikako para ibenta para may moolah for free art workshops sa mga kids na kapus-palad. Matututo din silang gumawa ng Manikako!

Visit www.manikako.com for photos. At kung naexcite kang gumawa ng Manikako super cute, mag-volunteer na din sa website! Panoorin mo rin si Medyas, ang patapong medyas na nagbigay ngiti sa isang bata dahil sa pagiging Manikako niya!

Kaya, dali, baliktarin na yang cabinet na yan!

Manikako

When I'm all excited about something, I can't quite start writing about it. Like now, I should just plunge in with my story but here I am rambling and not knowing where to start. So I'll just pull the first thought that comes in my mind and hope that you people can make some sense of it.
When Mt. Pinatubo erupted, our school, St. James College of QC, held donation drives. Hallways were lined with one-peso coins and nuns, or at least my memery telss me they were, would collect the coins in little sacks each afternoon.
In high school I transferred to Cotabato, where war refugees were a part of the demography, you had to wait for army tanks to pass by before you could cross, and your rich Chinese cousin gets kidnapped. It does sound bad but hey, my family and friends are there. I became head of a group called RYA for Religious Youth in Action and basically what we did was put up donation drives upon donation drives to help the deposed families of whatever calamity, and in that time there were quite a lot, that came by.
In college, I joined CYA, quite a coincidence really and a big part of the reason why I joined. It stood for Christ's Youth in Action and again I was out helping build a home with Habitat for Humanity, and teaching street kids basic lessons.
I am working now in a rather big advertising, I'm still crossing my fingers and hoping I'd do well enough to be regularized, but that's not the story here. The story is Manikako, a project my immediate higher-up is very much into. Manikako is the fund-raising arm of ArtHOC or House of Comfort Art Network. Check their very cool website at www.manikako.com. The goal is to raise enough money and materials to continue the free art workshops that ArtHOC hosts. The art workshops are for underpriviledged children, it aims to empower them through art. You might have heard about this or watched it on tv.
So, all this time I am wondering why I didn't take up social work. But maybe that's because you can always help no matter what you are. Can you imagine? Here I am, loving social work, loving art, loving dolls, loving children. And Manikako came along. Hah!
If you're interested, visit the website and sign-up as a volunteer. We sew dolls, talk to adorable children, ask for old clothes and sewing materials, have fun, laugh, and make other people and children laugh with us. So let's all make a brighter future, one doll at a time, one smile at a time.