Svelte Rogue Unleashed

Kiss me at your peril, baby

Protected: i couldn’t see the sunshine through the shadow

[ Enter your password to view comments ] Posted on 10.31.08 under A love of home, Angst, Family, c'est moi seulement

from schotel to dilis

[ 6 Comments ] Posted on 10.15.08 under Uncategorized

a large part of me is adjusting slowly to new life in the homeland, the parts resisting making me ask for a knife with which to attack Pinoy food at Recipes in Shangrila while surrounded by my comforting group of bading friends from Vox Pacis. or maybe in the subconscious insistence to not eat rice at every meal. to this day i still only eat rice in the evening. tina, marlu’s assistant, commented softly on my brown bread sandwich earlier. “wow, healthy.” after pulling out the mouldy part of the bread, i smiled wanly. healhy indeed.

the stomach hasn’t adjusted fully. the most stark manifestation of this was during my dental visit last monday. during the endless drilling, my innards began to churn. i made a total of three trips to the loo, armed with beng’s stash of toilet paper, and each time it happened, it was when i was trying to conjure happy thoughts. only the ‘happy’ thoughts of brusselsestraat and the roundabout in front of exotic world and the uncertain climb towards camilo torres seemed to unlock an unnameable sadness in my gut which threw all my internal organs into a frenzy.

i’m still overwhelmed by the crowds everywhere — on the street, in the MRT, in the malls on a sunday, in the university campus during semestral break, on the village streets at any time of the day — and the constant noise humming from so many people speaking at the same time. everywhere.

the best friend forcefully told me to assist him at a wedding last saturday, to play some of the songs for the liturgy that he was confident i would still remember in spite of the fact i had not played in a church in over two years. “you need to get out, to get socialised.” and how. i stumbled into a former high school buddy, a glee club mate, a former student from my dalaga days, and an ex-boyfriend with pregnant wife in tow all in one afternoon. the shock of having to interact with people from the past was a bit much for me that day and i wonder how my belgian buddies ever thought i was not shy nor an introvert. i certainly wished i had been one in those sudden encounters. i was not ready to face the world yet. to smile and chatter the afternoon away, detailing my return and all its attendant tasks.

my re-entry into professional life entails digging into the archives of the school of humanities, reading files, surveys, and reports on the school’s progress through the years, and i find that so many things have changed. the proliferation of pathways in my college alma mater, the mushroom-like buildings for the business and social sciences schools, the student food kiosks, the different new odels of automobiles on roads with u-turn slots i have not yet memorised is overstimulating. to say i’m overwhelmed is an understatement. i’m drowning.

i haven’t had time to mourn my losses. to acknowledge how deeply i miss my friends. i know they’re doing well. somehow. somewhere within. i just know.

praguian moments

[ No Comments ] Posted on 09.22.08 under Memories, Travel, c'est moi seulement

“what was your most striking moment in prague?”

caught off guard, i could not reply comprehensively. the last image that had leaped at me had happened just a few minutes before, that of his father’s wide blue eyes looking up at me from where he was kneeling beside the swimming pool in the lush garden, casually garbed in a pullover and jeans. “why would my father’s eyes be the most striking thing in prague?” his question was incredulous and i could hear the subtext in his words: are you out of your mind? so many things from which to choose and you — goodness me! — elect my father’s eyes? i mean, what the —???

as i had over the last three days, i struggled to keep up with his long strides (we’re talking at least 6′5 here to my diminutive 5′1, and my unproportionally long legs to short torso ratio did *not* help me one bit, and i have my battered feet to show for it), and managed, “i don’t come across too many blue eyes in my life so that would rank pretty much up there, yes.” i left unsaid the rest of my thoughts: old buildings, art nouveau architecture, tourists aplenty, sedate river cutting through the heart of the city, impressive performance halls, these are a dime a dozen and any major city would boast their own, no matter how historied or storied it may be. not blue eyes that look at you with intent, however, and see you. really see you, as though for the first time.

one three-hour opera and scrumptious dinner later, i still did not have a clear answer to that question. the sights and experiences i had undergone over the weekend were stitched together seamlessly; i didn’t know where one moment began or ended. there was no respect for time in the tapestry — the images swam fluidly in my mind’s eye, overlooked by an unchanging sky of white clouds, promising rain without fulfillment, giving no inch of blue to bathe the capital in a different light.

hillary-ous!

[ No Comments ] Posted on 09.15.08 under Politics, Quirky, Sundry

ok, this got me seriously cracking up. loved it!

enjoy the show feefol!

outside the rain begins

[ No Comments ] Posted on 09.12.08 under Aikido, Four Seasons, Friendship, Memories, Nostalgia, c'est moi seulement

the tatami was alive with bodies thumping heavily from tori throws. dries had just been “creative” (his word) on me, ducking a millisecond before i could put my hands on his shoulders and push him as hard as i could. instead, i found myself flying through the air, the fluorescent bulbs streaking before my eyes as the ceiling became the floor and the floor seemed miles above my head. as my body banged on the tatami with an ungraceful thud, i heard a cry cut short on the breath followed by laughter. it took another millisecond for me to realise it was me. dries was beaming at me, proud of his handiwork, bless his devilish soul while robin, our sensei, was looking our way with a mix of concern and mirth. ”thank you, thank you!” i gasped, struggling to stand up again and prepare for another attack on the preening dries. ”that was fast — but liberating! i can roll with the punches — throw me anything, i’ll survive!” dries nodded appreciatively, purring, “that’s good… for a moment there i thought you would hate me…” (ah dries, if you didn’t have such blue eyes, or if you hadn’t been the kindest soul in leuven my first day on the tatami, this would have been a battle enjoined… )

————
me: what do you say in the end? domo arigato gozaimashita?

michaël: yes, but much faster than that. (repeats long japanese phrase above in a flash of breath) just like that, no?

me: hmmm, ok… but why does robin say it in a high singsong voice?

michaël: in japan, the louder and the longer you say something, the more respectful you are. if you say it in a curt, abrupt manner, it means you’re in a position of power… you can afford to be “rude”. but it’s normal for them.

me: ahhhh… (chewing on the thought of the 6 foot 3 robin *not* being the authority figure on the tatami)

————

floating. weightless. there were creatures moving relentlessly before my eyes and i shook my head to clear it, hoping the creatures would fly away. my vision cleared and i was kneeling on the mat in my dogi, hair tied back in a pony tail. i prayed it would hold as i prepared myself for another night of being thrown by these creatures and hopefully, getting to throw some of them, too.

my body was slow tonight. instead of catching up as it normally does to the slew of dutch instructions and quickness of motion, my mind back-pedalled, matching the sluggish movements of my body. i was panting now, heat trapped between my skin and dogi, a furnace suffusing my face with a red glow. robin kept looking at me, a bemused smile on his face. he said nothing.

————

on our way out of the dojo, i tried to catch up with stefaan and robin. blabbered about needing to study the documents my boss had sent me for the next semester. i didn’t want to look at it, i chattered, doubling my pace to keep within a foot of their looping strides.

“i want to enjoy this nothingness, this perfect state i’m in…” my voice trailed off, eyes skittering over the uneven asphalt hugging the side of the road, trees shaking their leaves in the night breeze. mid-september and we were having an indian summer, heaving with the last throes of warm, balmy evenings. my denim jacket was tucked away in my gym bag, unneeded, unwanted, but a comforting presence nevertheless. earlier michaël had told me that i was obviously out of sorts on the tatami; “i could see it in your eyes”, he said, smiling at me sympathetically. ”i lived in japan for one year, and three weeks before i left, my mind was just…” his hands mimicked bombs exploding, his eyes widening for effect. i stared at the blue orbs, focusing on the dark irises throbbing in the centre. ”but that was just one year, lara… and my heart was…” he tore at his chest. i looked away, turned to the mirror in front, and bowed to the centre spot where the picture of o-sensei was usually placed. if kristof had come to training, that is. as one of the founding members, he was the keeper of the sacred image. when i straightened up, michaël was preparing to bow to imaginary o-sensei, too. as if he and i had an unspoken pact to pay homage to our memories.

a quick succession of blips sounded as stefaan extended his arm towards his new car, fingers pressing on the black buttons of his key. lights blinked, signalling that the doors were unlocked. robin turned to me. ”i had a friend from japan, who lived here for a year,” he said. i looked up at him distractedly. he continued. ”she trained with us, too.” mmmm, i thought, deciding to sit in the back. let the long-legged ones take the roomier front seat, i hummed. robin was still speaking. ”the last few trainings she attended… she looked just like you did last tuesday… she was glowing, too. as if she were so happy.”

i laughed. ”me? glowing?”

“i didn’t mean to say that you’re radioactive or anything…” robin chuckled at the thought. ”it’s hard to explain. like it’s something from within…”

i entered stefaan’s new car half-blindly. wonderingly. happy? glowing? radiant? since when did someone describe me thus?

i floated all the way home. skipped dinner. there were butterflies in my stomach. probably a million of them, in an explosion of light.

for you a thousand times over

[ No Comments ] Posted on 09.11.08 under Angst, Memories, Music

— khaled hosseini, “the kite runner“

when is one over the past? i submit never.

if one had told me when i was 20 that every aspect of my life would be kissed by poignance, would i have jumped at the offer with open arms? then, i probably would have. the world was a yawning chasm of adventure and opportunity; i was invincible, powerful, bursting with vibrance. if i had known that for every moment of inexplicable, inescapable, and dizzying moment of ecstasy i would have ransomed my future with tears, blood, and sighs, would i have bought into the rollercoaster promo showcasing exhilarated faces frozen on the shiny poster plastered on the ticket booth?

the golden red apple, once bitten into, is the pandora’s box that delivers the most wretched misery… all this hidden behind the tantalising promise of forever.

a karaoke bar is the best place to be with a sad friend. over pintjes, shrouded by the motionless pall of smoke, squinting at the multiple screens hanging overhead all over the room, one can belt out the travails of one’s heart. overburdened no more, every stranger’s smile is a warm companion on the path of self-searching. every song’s words breathe truth, capturing it and wafting it above everyone’s upturned shiny faces, inhaling the collective sadness and loneliness and allowing itself to burst into the myriad points of light and decibels piercing the choked room.

inexorably, every song is imbued with sadness, sung with a smile on a dimly lit stage with a grimy mirror and fake potted plants two feet behind you. you know better. there will always be things — people — you simply will never forget. as you are caught in a land that has been home for the last five years, on the brink of return to the motherland, the heart sings a song that is quiet, filled with longing, needing to be touched, embraced, acknowledged.

3 glasses of water will wash away the remnants of a martini, wine, amaretto, and beer. yet these are my best friends.

*the above is a video of my last song tonight — a hit with the crowd which took me pleasantly by surprise. you all know i’m a stariray and becoming the star of the moment in a roomful of strangers was a fitting end to what was strangely one of the best days of my life

forever my son

[ 1 Comment ] Posted on 08.26.08 under A love of home, Family, It's love, silly, MA

poring over luxembourg duchy’s city map

mikka wrapped his arms around me and asked, “mama, when i’m already a tennis player, who will you cheer for, rafa or me?”

that he doubted my allegiance drove a shaft deep into the mummy nerve centre.

i turned to him, astounded and sad. i engulfed in my embrace and said softly, “why YOU, of course. that is a non-issue, my sweetheart.”

i can still hear my guitar gently weeping.

roger and guy love

[ No Comments ] Posted on 08.19.08 under Quirky, You tube find

every time there are jokes about man lovin’ in tennis, roger federer is always in the middle of it. the following video is simply hilarious (check out the song from scrubs). enjoy!

missing the best stuff

[ No Comments ] Posted on 08.18.08 under Angst, Beijing Olympics, It's love, silly, Memories, Sport

it’s been one week since my last post and many things have conspired (yes, i’m going to be paranoid about this!) to keep me from my beloved haven of sports. i spent a harrowing three days away from home last weekend, and what made it most harrowing was having ZERO internet access. zero. to say that i am crushed, depressed, sad, gutted, and whatever else is putting it mildly. i am devastated. morose. oh well, life goes on.

the swiss duo of roger federer and stanislas wawrinka, all smiles, with their first gold medals for switzerland (photo credit: tennis.com)

this meant that i missed the semi-final match between rafael nadal and novak djokovic, my two most favourite male tennis players, as well as the end of the quarterfinal between jelena jankovic and dinara safina, among two of my favourite female tennis players, the gold medal match between rafa and fernando gonzalez of chile, the all-russian gold medal match between elena dementieva and dinara safina, and the doubles finals of both the women (williams sisters!) and men (roger and stan!).

the williams juggernaut, now 10-0 lifetime, with their second doubles olympic gold (photo credit: tennis.com)

i also missed the amazing quest of phelps to beat mark spitz’ world record haul of 7 golds in one olympics — i was quite excited about the 100-M butterfly race between him, compatriot ryan crocker, and serbian mike cavic, and the fact he pulled the US team into first during his butterfly run in the 4×4 medley to edge out australia makes his once-in-a-lifetime feat even more impressive.

belated greetings, jmom!

[ 1 Comment ] Posted on 08.12.08 under Friendship, Hello

goodness, some people have all the luck to be born on a very auspicious date of chinese perfect numbers, 8, 8, and 8. jmom is one of them and she silently (and lovingly) went about her day, becoming more fully the wonderful person she is always becoming. (huh? but you get it, right?)

jeanette,

belated happy birthday to you! you will always be one woman who appreciated my relentlessness even when i was relentlessly down.

may the lord always bless and keep you in the palm of his mightily gentle hand.

take care and may you have many more happy returns!

svelterogue