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First Entry

Welcome to the most creative post title in the world!

I tread slowly. Tiptoeing. Like maybe no one will notice how I am again adding to the world wide clutter. A little ashamed that I’m starting another blog.

Why a new one? Because I can. Also because I’m trying to reorganize my blog life. So here I am starting a new blog, which will be 100% dedicated to books. Yeay! Books!

It wasn’t an easy decision to make. I felt that writing about books leads to writing about travel and food and art and people and thoughts and faith and feelings and and other things that fill my days and color my life, and so I wanted to put all of these into one mad jumble of a blog. But, it became a jumble too mad to handle. So here it is. My blog about books. Yeay! Books!

About books. Like I said in my shelfari profile, I can live without ’em. But really, what’s the point? Books are great. They smell good. They look good lined up on my shelf. They’re cheaper than shoes. Most of the time, they’re non-fattening. Shopping for them doesn’t make me feel fat. Yeay! Books!

But mostly, they’re great because of what’s inside them. Trees died so that I could read about other people’s stories that make me think about my story. Thank you, trees. You didn’t die in vain. Because of your sacrifice, I learn, I enjoy, I stay away from my other vices, and I become a slightly better/smarter/more informed/happier human being one book at a time. Uhm, all together now, Yeay! Books!

Okay, I’m being flip. And that reminds me of the Flippers (I’m glad there’s no fine for cheesy segues). The Flippers luv, luv, luv books. Online and in our monthly book discussions, we just can’t stop talking about books. You’ll know more about them in my future posts.

Oh, future posts. There’s those. So I better cut this short now and leave some for another day.

Yeay, books!

You might get confused. This is the first entry; why are there 2 million posts before this. Those posts were transferred from my previous blog.
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Wear Joaquin

You like fashion? You also like literature? Here’s something that brings those two elements together.

Freeway honors Philippine National Artists by designing clothing collections that showcase the artists’ works. The first set features Nick Joaquin. It’s a scrumptious, artistic collection of t-shirts, blouses, jackets, and dresses.

I love the way the text takes as much space as the imagery. And if you’re ever stuck in an elevator/waiting room/queue without a book, you can read your shirt.

Freeway does not seem to have a website, but google led me to this site that shows off the collection: http://fashion-flick.blogspot.com/2009/08/freeway-loves-art-nick-joaquin.html

Gorgeous, huh? I know you want a piece of that.

It’s a bummer though that I wasn’t able to buy anything. I’m way off the size chart of Philippine apparel, so I was ready to go for a bag. But there’s no bag; just a tiny kikay pouch. And really, my closet will vomit the kikay pouch if I attempt to add another to the 2 million I already have. I need something I can use, sling on my shoulder, and show off so people will say, “Wow, that’s Nick Joaquin.” And I will beam and carry a silly grin while thinking of myself as some kind of cool, nationalistic, literate dudette with socially-relevant fashion tastes.

Oh well, maybe I will come back to their stores one of these days to try on a men’s shirt.

But for you, my lithe friends, I encourage you to check this out and get yourself a limited edition. Wear Joaquin. If you have 2 navels, now is the time to show them off. Let’s support Freeway as they support our artists.

Up next for the holidays is a collection paying homage to Ang Kiukok. I can’t even begin to articulate how excited I am about that collection as well, and it will break my materialistic, pa-cultured heart to leave empty handed, because here finally is my chance of having a bit of Ang Kiukok without having to pawn my husband.

Freeway people, make sure you include a tote or messenger bag for the Ang Kiukok set, okay?

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Submerged

Often, I find myself submerged in a thick plot, lost in the pages of a good book, deeply ensconced in an armchair and swept up in other worlds, embroiled in other people’s stories. But this post is not about that. This post is about submerging the book.

Yes, dipping a book in water. Uhm, yes, liquid water.

I hear gasps and the gnashing of teeth.

Warning: The pictures that follow might cause shortness of breath, activation of tear ducts, and the rapid increase/decrease of blood pressure among my obsessive-compulsive, plastic-wrapping, book-loving friends.

Be assured, however, that no books were harmed in the filming of this blog.This is my totally waterproof book. Melcher Media’s The Soothing Soak is a collection of poems, essays, and short stories by Pablo Neruda, AS Byatt, Diane Ackerman among others. It is meant to be read in the bathtub. But since we don’t have a tub, this book is my spa book.

I’ve been wanting to have a book like this. Ever since I discovered the existence of waterproof books, I’ve been entering steam bath and sauna rooms with a profound sense of emptiness and longing, knowing that if I had such a book, I would read in joyous peace instead of boring myself in contrived zen.

One time back in the days when I didn’t have this book, I tried going to the sauna with a regular book, the type with porous paper pages. I panicked when I saw the pages crinkling into little waves. In this mega-humid country of ours, water damaged books have the potential to attract molds and destroy your whole book collection. (There’s that gasping and gnashing sound again.)

Gimongous thanks to my Chicago based sister-in-law, Ate Pat, I finally have this.

One weekend, I baptized (uhm, literally?) the book at The Spa in Jupiter. I tucked the book into my little pink spa bag and brought it with me to the wet floor.

I read poetry at the steam room.I felt a bit self conscious because there were 2 other girls in the room. And maybe they were thinking I was silly bringing a book in there. Or maybe they were envious. Because they had nothing to read. While I was unabashedly reading in the steam room, instead of watching my navel or doing nothing but grappling with my body issues and trying to cover up my cellulite. I was happy.

Then I moved into the Turkish pools. I love Turkish pools with the contrast hot and cold baths, except this time the hot part was not that hot, and the cold was not that cold. Normally, I would be a wee bit upset about such technical flaws, but this time I had my waterproof book, and I was a happy camper. I read a couple of short stories. I can hardly remember the content as I was just so thrilled at the experience of being able to do two favorite things at once — reading and spa-ing. I enjoyed myself so much, I had to force myself to stop reading, pull myself out of the pool, and get on with my spa-ing.

Two drawbacks — one is that you need to allocate more time before your massage. The other one is that even if it is waterproof, the pages do get wet and stay wet. So I had to wipe every page before I stored the book back into my spa bag. Spritzed it with Lysol. It’s waterproof. I don’t know if it’s mold proof.

Aaah. I can’t wait until my next spa visit and my next soothing soak.

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What’s On Your Desk Wednesday

A few Wednesdays ago, Blooey tagged me to participate in a blog meme that would shame me, my neat freak husband, and the mother who tried to teach me urbanity.

We’re supposed to take pictures of our desk, and we’re not supposed to tidy them up first to make them photo-pretty. Gasp!

This is for Sassy Brit’s blog meme, What’s On Your Desk Wednesday. The details and the instructions are all here.

I tried to ignore Blooey’s tag. But what do you know — it’s Wednesday, and I’m too lazy to draft a book review or write a blog entry that makes sense. And I’m taking the easy but more embarrassing way out. So here, in all it’s glorious chaos, is a picture of my desk. Click on the image for a closer, more embarrassing look. Hopefully, the dust bunnies don’t show.
The rules say I shouldn’t tidy up. I have to confess I tried to make it look a little presentable, but to no avail. It’s a hopeless mess. It’s the end of the term and there are tons of papers to be checked. It’s also book sale season and well, you know how it is with book addicts who live in tiny laces — a book shelving nightmare, the floor disappearing. Geez, what am I talking about? My desk looks like this the whole year round, so I’ll shut up with the excuses.

But like they say, if a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, then what does it mean if you have an empty desk?

Ooo, I almost forgot. I should tag 5 bloggers. So here are my victims:

  1. ArtSeblis
  2. Blurbologist
  3. Jo
  4. Fantaghiro
  5. Cubicle Dweller

Happy Wednesday, everyone! May the rest of the week be even better than the start.

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Contraband

I am Gege. And okay, I admit it now, I am addicted to books. And book buying. And my husband does not like it. But confessions are necessary. And therapeutic. So, I’m showing here the view from under my desk where the recent loot is in temporary confinement until my husband goes out to play golf. When I, away from his prying eyes and judging heart, can put them into their rightful alphabetical places.

Shhh, don’t tell my husband.

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A Dr. Seuss Sunday

Yippee. Yoohoo. ‘twas a Sunday!
A fine, fun Sunday, I may say
A fine day to catch up on sleep
And to read something not too deep

So I looked through my shelf
For a book I could choose

Then I thought to myself

How about Dr. Seuss?

Dr. Seuss. Dr. Seuss. He’s cool. He’s fun
And Flippers say for July he’s the one
I know, I know, some will be shocked
That I read a book about (gasp) a cat

For cats are creatures that make me say yuck

I will never like them, no matter what

This particular cat
Knows how to have fun
He brings out of the box
Thing two and thing one

This cat makes a huge mess
And gives the kids so much stress

It gives the fish a huge fright

When it lets the Things fly kites

This particular cat
Has a machine that sweeps things
Oooh, I want something li
ke that
A gadget so amazing

But the amazing thing is this
Dr. Seuss wrote this charming piece

With the same two hundred twenty words; that’s all.

So this poem can be read by kids, big and small.

When I was done with the story
Of this cat that’s naughty and feisty

I guess I had to admit
This cat is not all that yucky
As my Sunday went on
So did my Dr. Seussathon

Book two was Green Eggs and Ham
About a creature named Sam-I-Am


Though the poem sounds rather silly

And funny with a bit of whimsy

It has a lesson to preach
About living a life more rich

Get out of your comfort zone

Is the message of the book
Venture into the unknown
Try things, taste stuff, take a look

Dr. Seuss says for us to grow
Don’t say no to what you don’t know
Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it

Don’t give yourself silly limits
Then it was time for book number three
This time, ‘twas something rather scary
What Was I Scared Of? was the next tome

This is now my fave Dr. Seuss poem

It tells us not to be afraid
Of things and folks that are unusual

We’re all just differently made

And that’s what makes us special

We need not fear
Of the strange and queer

Don’t be afraid too

Of things that are new


Then I took a break
From all the poetry
To read Theodore Seuss Geisel’s

Short biography

I learned he’s American
With traces of German

He majored in English

To be a teacher was his wish

Then he fell in love with Helen
Who became his travel companion

And it was in 1957

When Cat in the Hat
became a sensation

I was also to discover
That Dr. Seuss won a Pulitzer
For giving his life to educating

And making reading entertaining

My Sunday was drawing to a close
But before I rest and finally doze

There was another book to read

The last of Dr. Seuss indeed
You’re Only Old Once
Is a book for obsolete children
This was one of the last books

From Dr. Seuss’s fabulous pen

This is a bit depressing
As Dr. Seuss tells of the stressing

Hospital visits, doctor hopping
Waiting room waiting, medicine popping

Yet it’s still full of humor
And you wish Dr. Seuss could have lived more
To write more about cats and whatnots

Green eggs and other silly plots

So that’s my Dr. Seuss bookfest
What a great way to de-stress

I felt truly truly blessed
Dr. Seuss, you are the best!

PS: After composing this, I have new found respect for Dr. Seuss. This was hard. I had to use an online rhyming dictionary to get this done. And after trying to work out a semblance of a meter, I just gave up at the end.

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DO HARD THINGS by Alex & Brett Harris


Do Hard Things, for me, is a hard read.

You see, I don’t like doing hard things. Yea, who does? But I think my aversion to doing hard things is above the average. I’ve spent my life running away from hard-to-do things. Sometimes some people do not believe me when I say I’m lazy because they see me involved in so many things. And when I’m really passionate about something, I work hard and work excellently. But I’m very selective about the things I do, focusing on things I love, I enjoy, I naturally excel in, I care about, or at least things that would bring me instant gratification. And even with those things, I always manage the degree of difficulty.

So when I read the blurbs inside the book – a lot of things about a lot of hard things – I literally put it down and eyed it as if it was the mother source of the H1N1 virus. I just didn’t want to hear/read any of it. I didn’t want to be challenged, to be goaded to do hard things, things that will make me sweat, get my hands dirty. I don’t want to do anything that would make me look stupid, incompetent. No, thanks. I like my life just the way it is. Cushy, fun, easy.

So the first hard thing I had to do was to pick up the book again and force myself to read it. The next hard thing I now have to do is to write about it. That is hard because writing about it forces me to reflect on what I have just read.

One of the things that make this a hard read is that it is really targeted towards teenagers. So, I’m reading this 25 years too late. And whatever message it has for me is a reminder of the things I should have done and shouldn’t have done many years ago. It made me a bit sad that at my age, the hard things are even so much harder to do.

So, if you are in your teens or just about to hit those years, go read this to avoid the regrets. First off, you’re going to learn that this teenage concept is a fairly new one. Ages ago, people were really just divided into two groups – children and adults. Back then, people started taking on adult roles and responsibilities when they were about 15. Child labor laws, though generally positive in intent, somehow extended the childhood stage, and so a new demographic was born. Now, the teen years are supposed to be some kind of vacation just before one gets into real life – adulthood. And vacation may seem like a euphemism for the lost, crazy, angst-filled, dysfunctional years.

How many times have you heard people warn parents about this phase? The phase when the teenagers’ search for identity is usually accompanied by wild, inexcusable but expected behavior and social experimentation. Adults sigh and say, well, what do you expect — they’re teenagers. And they’re supposed to be allowed to waste these 7 or so years drinking, doping, and coupling, basically indulging in spring break type bacchanalia. After all, they have the rest of their lives to get serious. But in the meantime, real life and real responsibilities can wait. One can just hope they pass those wasted years unscathed.

It is this problem of low expectations that Alex and Brett Harris address. They want us to rethink what we think about the teen years. They want today’s young people to rebel against low expectations and reclaim the teen years as the launching pad of their lives. They want teenagers to fight against mediocrity and to do far more than is expected of them. To do the hard things – the ones that take them away from their comfort zones, the ones that won’t give them instant gratification but far reaching and much better rewards.

It’s a message that people need to hear – whether they’re in that target reader age of 13 to 19, or whether they’re parents, teachers, and other youth-influencers. It’s a hard message for the teenagers. It’s a hard message even for the adults because they have to start raising their expectations of the youth. And for some (like me), they too have to learn to do the hard things. It’s a hard message but one worth listening to.

Alex and Brett Harris write well in a contemporary, easy manner as you would expect. I’m glad they didn’t use hip teenage jargon that could have made them sound like they’re trying too hard to sound like the teenagers that they are. A lot of well written, high-impact statements here. My highlighter pen vomited lines and lines on the book, underlining catchy phrases and calls to action that even this old fogey can learn from. I can already see the industry this book will spawn – devotionals, journals, calendars. Rubber bracelets?

The authors are very liberal with examples to inspire and practical tips to apply. Though this is obviously a book written by Christians for Christian readers, the message can be relevant to those of other faiths.

Its audience has its limits though. Even though, they give examples of the experiences of Philippine based youth, the context is most relevant to American or first world youth, those with options. It’s hard to imagine how this message might apply to youth struggling with extreme poverty, youth who have hard things thrust upon them, those who don’t even have the luxury of a real childhood. They do hard things because they have no other choice. As such, you wonder about their chances of redemption. Or maybe I expect too much. Maybe that topic is altogether for another book.

Limited audience notwithstanding, this book is a must read. I wish more young people would read this and be inspired, be alerted to a call to do great things, to excel, to achieve more than what is expected of them, to make a real, lasting difference in the world. But first they have to do hard things. And first, they have to read this hard-to-read but worthwhile book.

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Flippers are Foodies too

temporarily posting this here as I ask permission from the image owner, Lord Jit, here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jityanga/339554347/

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Book Review: Claude Tayag’s FOOD TOUR

If you caught Anthony Bourdain’s Philippine stopover episode, then you have seen Claude Tayag. He entertained Tony at his restaurant/home/art gallery, Bale Dutung, in Pampanga, presenting a very posh, telegenic rendition of kare kare. He also introduced Tony to sisig.

And if you’re not Kapampangan, maybe you were offended by his assertion that Filipino food is Pampanga food. But I got what he meant. He meant to say that Filipino food is different for everyone, depending on your own experience and cultural milieu. The food you grew up with as you lived in the region you grew up in, the food served by your mom and/or your lola, the food that comforted you as a child and continues to comfort you now is your definition of Filipino food.

But this is not about Claude Tayag’s Tony Bourdain guesting. This is about his book.

If you are a foodie worth your salts, if you take every three day weekend as an excuse, an opportunity to discover the regions and their cuisines, then grab a copy of this book, and keep it close to your sunglasses and favorite weekend jaunt outfit.

It will be your guide, your handbook as you traverse the country and its neighbors, searching for fantastic culinary experiences that sate the appetite for food as well as for culture. It presents helpful information including contact details so you can replicate the food tours he has taken. Really, get a copy. I can see myself bringing this with me as I go south and north of the Philippines.

The book is actually a compilation of his columns in the Philippine Star. At the end of each entry is a recipe.

It is not the best written food and travel book I’ve ever read. Claude Tayag is not an awful writer, but let’s just say his core talents lie in the visual and the culinary. He writes well enough in a breezy, conversational manner with no pretensions. Maybe a little unimaginative with a tendency to interject using the word “burp” a lot. But hey, you’re not buying this book because of its literary merits. You’re buying this because it will inspire and enlighten the hungry gourmand and antsy vagabond in you.

There are 3 things I didn’t like about this book. The first one is its size — bigger than your standard trade paperback, it is not very handy. The next one is its price — P550; I think it’s worth it because I will get a lot of use from the book. I also like the quality of its binding and paper stock, and that alone makes it worth it for me, but it’s a prohibitive price if you want to spread the word about it and want each of your friends to get a copy. The last thing that lessened my enjoyment of this book is that the entries are verbatim lifts from his columns, and sometimes they would include captions for photos that were part of the original newspaper articles but were not included in the book. It was a bit frustrating not having the visuals that go with the captions.

But the things I liked about the book compensated for the above flaws. I liked the history of sisig, his dining guidelines, the healthy balance of street food and fine dining experiences, how he communicated his lip-smacking love of food with no apologies, and his practical traveler tips. I love the way his stories include his wife Maryann as his partner in gourmanding and traveling. He makes fun of her a lot, but he is obviously head over heels in love with her. And best of all, I like the pen sketches that accompany each article; they add so much value, art, and charm to the book.

Oh, and one more thing, don’t read this hungry.

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Musing Mondays: Mommy’s Fault

Musing Mondays are hosted by Rebecca!.

Do you remember how you developed a love for reading? Was it from a particular person, or person(s)? Do you remember any books that you read, or were read to you, as a young child? (question courtesy of Diane)


I blame it all on my mom. I’m not sure how old I was when my mom started teaching me to read, but I remember that I wasn’t in school yet, so I must have been 3. My mom would give me a newspaper and ask/command me to read in front of my relatives. Most moms would ask their kid to sing or to dance. My mom would show off my reading prowess. I remember mispronouncing the word highway, and they got a chuckle out of that.

Mom started me off with Ladybug fairy tales. Rumpelstiltskin just might be my very first book. In my mind’s eye, I can still see one of my favorite books then, Little Match Girl. What a sad, sad story. Every birthday and Christmas, I would get 5 Nancy Drew books until finally I had the complete series. To this day, that collection is still in my must-save-in-a-fire list. I didn’t really grow up with many toys so I had to rely on books for entertainment.

I blame my mom for this addiction to books. And I thank her much for it.