NaBloPoMo: Whouffaldi Finale

Tumblr has been very informative about the season finale.

The posts from the #doctorwho tag have given me a pretty good idea of what happened, and I am one with the Whoniverse in saying,


But unlike Santa, I do not ship Whouffaldi. I ship Oswink.

Of men and babies

Warning: There is a high possibility that my friends or people around my age (30y.o.) will get annoyed by this post. 

I consider it a sign of maturity (ha!), this proliferation of baby pictures and videos on social media. Never have I seen so many pictures of babies, both nieces/nephews and godchildren, on my Facebook and Instagram feeds. It is insanely adorable and annoying at the same time.

On one hand, the photos of the little cherubs are more than enough to bring a smile to this otherwise stressed face, for the giggles and and toothless smiles and the Michelin Man-like limbs are just full of Cute. On the other hand, the baby pictures are a glaring in-your-face reminder of my… oldness. And of other things I’d rather not announce on a public blog.

Sometimes I think I’ve gotten over this “old” issue. I look at my friends’ haggard faces because they haven’t gotten any sleep and think, “HA! I still look like a college kid on my best days. On my worst days, I just look like I’m in my mid-20s.” And I can STILL sleep without interruption because I’m not breastfeeding. And I can watch movies in the theater without having to worry about whether it’s appropriate for my kid or not.

But I cannot for the life of me explain why whenever a friend or batchmate posts his/her baby or wedding picture or something similar I get antsy. I’ve got a few theories about this.

Number 1. The baby pics, wedding pictures, pre-nup pictures annoy the hell out of me because I am reminded of how I don’t have those things. No, I am not in a relationship. No, I’m not going to have babies anytime soon. Stop dropping hints, Ma.

No. I don’t feel. Any pressure. Right now.

Number 2. People subconsciously look down at you (it’s just the briefest of glances, but it’s there) when the fact that you’re single  (STILL) at 30 sinks in. People judge. I would know. I’m a judger. Sometimes of the worst kind. (Don’t worry; I’m working on getting rid of it.)

Number 3. People tease you relentlessly about your age. Right now, I would like to apologize to Cec for cracking and laughing at all the age jokes thrown at her before. Now, I can relate.

I confess to being guilty of being brainwashed by the media and society and tradition that having and taking care of a family is the end-all and be-all of women. Inasmuch as I’d like to claim modern thinking and beliefs, that women CAN be happy and fulfilled without a family, I really am still an old soul. Family is still important.

Why my brain and heart are warring over this desire (or lack thereof) of a beau and, consequently, a husband and my own family I probably shall never understand.

I blame Doctor Who for this melancholic midnight thoughts.

“I am alone.”

“My face has all these lines, but I didn’t do the frowning.”

A Thousand Lives

The worst piece of news today wasn’t about China threatening to take our land away again but the news that a father had to bury his son who died from fraternity initiation rites (better known here as hazing).

I remember thinking that I can’t–nor do I want to–imagine the pain that father must have felt to discover his child had died because of a senseless act. All of a sudden I was thinking of this father’s rage and hurt and how he might act if he saw these people responsible for his son’s death, and all I could think of was that he wouldn’t wish death on these people but a thousand lives over so that they could suffer through all of them.

The scene became real in my mind:

He looked up. In front of him were the three boys–so young! how could they kill my boy?–the three boys who took my child away.

He stood up, staggered towards them. They shrunk. “Shrink into the earth, you maggots,” he thought, his rage the only thing holding him up.

Softly, he addressed them. “I do not wish you death…”

Their shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

“I wish you a thousand lives and more so that you can live through them and suffer through all of them.”

No burden was lifted. No weight taken off his shoulders. His heart was heavier, his chest tighter, as though the curse he put on them was placed on him as well. And all he could think of was that this was how it was going to be now.


Watching the news is depressing. 😦

I wish all parties involved find forgiveness and peace, maybe not now, but eventually.


There’s this Korean reality show called Roommate where 11 South Korean celebrities live together in a house for a certain period of time. It’s nothing like the Big Brother franchise where people get voted off the house every week. Here, the housemates, or roommates, as they call themselves, make the best of their circumstances and get to know each other in front of the entire nation (and world, if you follow the show online).

Thanks to my brother, my family and I are hooked on this. New episodes air on Sundays, but since none of us can understand the language, we wait for the English-subbed episodes to be uploaded on Kshowonline every Wednesday. The first episode I saw was the third one, and I was instantly hooked. I found myself drawn to certain roommates, but at the end of our marathon, I didn’t have a single favorite one; I LOVED EVERYBODY.

In one of the latest episodes, though, I realized that I was looking forward to more appearances of Lee Dong-wook, especially after it was revealed that he was the male roommate who was around my age. Hello! Fangirl alert! To make matters worse–so to speak–he turned out to be more than a decent guy: he has a great sense of humor, thoughtful, considerate, and he takes care of the other members, taking the time to talk to them when he notices that someone was feeling out of sorts.


Good lord, I think I’m in love.

Okay, I kid. I’m not in love, but I sure am now a fan of his.


Procrastinating again

I go back to work tomorrow and what do I do?

I watch a Koreanovela with my dad.


I must say, though, that this is pretty compelling stuff! I’m hooked!

A-Z Challenge: Xena

The first time I ever “shipped” two fictional characters was when I watched Prince Lotor try to get Princess Alura in Voltron. The next time I remember shipping another non-canon couple was when I watched Xena and wished she would hook up with Ares, the god of war (which turns out to be slightly incestuous since this Wikipedia article says that it was implied he might be her father, not her lover).

Anyway, Xena was the first badass chick I’ve ever admired. Sailor Jupiter (Sailormoon), Linka and Gi (Captain Planet), Storm of Xmen were some other female heroes I liked, but for me they were sissies compared to Xena. The woman was a female war machine, and, as amazing as I think those other ladies were, I doubt they could beat Xena in combat without the aid of any of their powers.

A-Z Challenge: Jane Austen

My friends would call me a hypocrite if I didn’t write about Austen in this challenge. After all, I did get a bunch of us to form a book club in her honor… initially. We’ve since moved on to other books. 🙂

But yes, Jane Austen remains an important figure in my life. It was one of her stories that got me hooked on the classics. A childhood friend once gave me a children’s comic version of Pride and Prejudice and Captains Courageous. Of course, being the romantic that I am, chucked Cheyne’s story and delved right into Darcy’s. I mean Lizzie’s.

After that, I got my hands on Persuasion and then Sense and Sensibility. I remember reading Persuasion back in 6th grade and ending up being confused about what happened. Sense and Sensibility was a different story. I didn’t know about shipping back then, but I shipped Elinor and Col. Brandon hard that first time I read it. And THEN I saw the movie with Kate Winslet and Emma Thompson and everything made sense (but I still shipped them both).

It wasn’t until college that I finally got my hands on a copy of Emma, but she annoyed the hell out of me with her meddling, so I dropped it, picking up where I left off years later when we finally started the book club. Mansfield Park and Northanger Abbey I didn’t bother with because reading the summaries at the backs of the books already made me yawn. I got copies of the BBC movies, so I consumed those instead.

Thanks to the book club, though, I was forced to read all six of Austen’s novels, which was a good thing because the stories made more sense to me the second time around and not just because I had a better grasp of Austen’s language; it was because the struggles of each of the characters became more understandable and relevant. Italo Calvino says it best in Why Read the Classics?

In fact, reading in youth can be rather unfruitful, owing to impatience, distraction, inexperience with the product’s “instructions for use,” and inexperience in life itself. Books read then can be (possibly at one and the same time) formative, in the sense that they give a form to future experiences, providing models, terms of comparison, schemes for classification, scales of value, exemplars of beauty—all things that continue to operate even if the book read in one’s youth is almost or totally forgotten. If we reread the book at a mature age we are likely to rediscover these constants, which by this time are part of our inner mechanisms, but whose origins we have long forgotten. A literary work can succeed in making us forget it as such, but it leaves its seed in us.

The complexities of societal norms and expectations regarding love and marriage and children especially of a culture so different from my own were a mystery to my 12-year old inexperienced-in-life self, but facing them again at a more mature age allowed me the opportunity to really get to know the characters and therefore appreciate their stories more.

Austen is known for her irony and her wit, but all I could see was how well she was able to reach women from this day and age and still have them sighing and crying and gushing over her characters. Of course, the ladies loved Fitzwilliam Darcy and his grand gestures of love for Elizabeth Bennet (but some say Austen ruined men for the ladies. In any case, Austen’s characters connected with the readers whether they were doing something grand like Darcy or Col. Brandon or Henry Crawford (whom I wanted Fanny to end up with), or something simple and subtle like Wentworth noticing how tired Anne was and suggesting she ride with his sister instead of walking. In everything that Austen’s male characters did, there was romance. And in everything that her heroines did, there was courage.

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click the image for episode 1 😀

Her stories, most especially P&P, have spawned so many adaptations and retellings, the most recent of which might be Hank Green and Bernie Su’s production of The Lizzie Bennet Diaries (YouTube). Before that, there were Bride and Prejudice (P&P Bollywood style), Lost in Austen and Pride & Prejudice (2005 with Keira Knightley) among many others. Adaptations for other Austen novels include Emma (two versions: Gwyneth Paltrow and that Underworld girl) and Clueless (Alicia Silverstone); Sense and Sensibility (with Emma Thompson and Kate Winslet) and From Prada to Nada (Camilla Belle and Alexa Vega); Persuasion (two versions: Ciaran Hinds and Rupert Penry-Jones as Capt. Wentworth); Mansfield Park (loved the version with Frances O’Connor) and Northanger Abbey with TV movies.

Aside from Shakespeare, Austen’s the only other classical author I know whose works have continued to make such a huge impact on the modern age that they’ve spawned countless versions across all types of media. I love her; that’s all I really wanted to say.

or Capt. Wentworth 😀