All about days

Twenty-five days. This is the longest time I’ve waited since the last entry I wrote (not counting the Peanuts comics strip I’ve posted). I hope my fingers haven’t grown stiff with their under-exercise. I’m missing every nook and cranny of this spot in cyberspace so much that during idle moments, I’d relish in my mind the thought of blogging again.

Four days. That’s the number of days I’ve spent with my officemates during our annual company retreat last April 23-26. Ilocos, Bicol, Cebu, Boracay, Banaue—we’ve been to these faraway places before but this time, we hied off to somewhere nearer: Laguna. This year’s theme had me thinking about risking and trusting God more about the future; considering who my only comfort is; wishing He’d take me to higher ground in my spiritual life, career and personal life.

One day. This is the day I am waiting for. I am praying for the day when I could do more than just pay lip service and prove to God that I love Him. Wondering when I won’t use the currency of words anymore but pay Him the love He deserves with more of my time, energy and thoughts. Whether that happens here on earth or only when I get to heaven is only for Him to tell. All I know is that I’m waiting for this day.

I have a strong feeling there’ll be better days ahead.

fishy me

Yes, some nights I get fishy. The giant Styrofoam goldfish (now left rotting in a trash bin in Laguna) was a product of several trips to National Book Store, a few late-night sessions of cutting and taping, a couple of hours’ worth of brain activity and a big dollop of silliness.

For a publisher, we’re pretty much relaxed, don’t you think? Let this picture dispel all notions that we brood over books each time we meet. On the contrary, you’ll find us some nights disrobing of our normalcy, donning an alter ego and fluttering (or in my case, swimming) the night away.

I bagged the second prize of our Retreat Fun Night Costume Awards (the theme: creation) with the grand prize going to an officemate who came in as a tree (She wrapped her body in brown cardboard and used a green umbrella as her leaves). You might be wondering what would compel me to sweat it out looking this silly. Here's what: Seldom do I get the license to be outrageously playful, I might as well give it my all and enjoy the experience. And enjoy I did, not just mine but the costume of my equally creative and playful officemates! [Temporarily curly me with Ian the angel, Lea the butterfly, Gladys the ladybug and Ate Glo and baby Nathan.]

Ever lost a library book?

A Gypsy and a Geek Poet

A gypsy and a geek poet have been added to my blog roll.

The gypsy, I’ve been egging to start her own blog since she visited mine. I’m thinking what a waste it is for her random thoughts to be lost in oblivion because she doesn’t write them down. Her blog will surely be interesting, I tell myself. And I convince her of the same. Now with three posts to her week-old blog’s credit, my persistence has not been in vain.

I warn her, though that her life will be changed. Her fingers will be doing demanding calisthenics on the computer keyboard, she might as well be preparing for the blogging Olympics (that is, if there was one). In a recent email, this writer-slash-new blogger tells me, “You’re right, it’s addicting.” Very recently, she wailed about her life as a pedestrian. Yes, she wrote about her ordinary walking days because this gypsy ain’t riding a caravan. More like surviving EDSA, really. She shares, “I find myself a hair’s breath away from speeding buses and motorcycles. If they swerve just half an inch on my side of the road—well, we will then have to include ‘humans’ somewhere in the definition of roadkill.” Funny! I can tell, this early on, that I'll be inspired and entertained to read what is dancing in the gypsy's mind.

As for the geek poet, no, I had nothing to do with his blog. A friend from way back (we worked on several projects—a newsletter, an interactive CD, book covers), some of his posts remind me of what I knew about who he was while others reveal for the first time who he now is. Who could miss his blog’s unique design, with tabs not usual to blogger.com templates? Go figure—he designs websites for a living (Check out his other baby, the Crossover Singles website).

Among many things about his life, this geek poet writes about a "bloody" dating book, his nephew Iko and his life as a singleton. A paragraph of his what’s-my-type-post reminds me a little of Chandler in his pre-Monica days. An amusing line from this particular post reads, “I don’t want to end up with a cow eh! (he's referring to a real cow here)” This from the guy who, though considers himself as nice, would rather be known as something else. He laments, “Don't you hate it when you hear people say what they think about you and you hear... nice?”

I'm looking forward to adding more links on the right side of this screen. Because there are other bloggers out there whose lives and adventures merit a few clicks on my mouse, and a couple of rolls on my scroll. If the worldwide web is a street, then am I glad to be running into a gypsy, a geek poet and all the other characters in between.