A Still From 20 Years Ago

There was a time when I had the patience to spend all those hours to develop film and print positives in the darkroom. Now I can't help wincing at how slow a few seconds can seem as I wait for my scanner to duplicate the images for the same photos.

From the start, I have always loved taking pictures of people's facial expressions and the things that they do. I loved it so much that I took up Basic Photography twice while in college. With a meager student allowance, I bought film and photo paper and coaxed friends into agreeing to pose for me. The dream of having my own darkroom was hindered by the fact that photography was such an expensive hobby (and it STILL is).

My old Canon AE1 (SLR...without the D, mind you) has long been retired. I've lost my old tripod and lighting equipment. Though I started to use digital cameras only in 2006, it was only just recently that I felt I wanted to do more than just take pictures during get togethers and while on vacation. I want to learn all over again to work with images that speak, or more precisely, paint a thousand words.

This picture was taken by the official still man during the production phase of a film project in 1993. It was part of my summer internship at University of the Philippines. I didn't know that he took my picture until one day I was handed the print.

My affair with photography has been so far... an affair. But it would be counted among the first loves worth going back to. For someone with a passion for life (typical of anyone born under my sign - Scorpio), taking photos would always ensure that every moment that we want to hold on to would remain in our memory, digital included.

On Turning Forty

I'm taking a moment to reflect on what it feels to be reaching forty.

I have more courage in admitting my physical age. After all, every year that is added to my life is enough to be thankful.

I did not choose the year nor the month I was born. I am certain my parents did not expect someone like me coming into this world, but I sure hope that they have been thankful for having me even up to now.

I wish I could feel less regret for all the troubles that I went through. However, I do not question the idea that I did not experience every hurt or heartbreak, shame, or disappointment for no reason. I just have to believe that the reason behind each trial was good.

I wish I could feel more appreciative of every good thing that happened in my life or that I was given. I want to quit thinking that there were other good things that I was not meant to have. I am talking about dreams that I had to give up, paths that I had to forego.

In spite of all this, I still have my insights, imagination, and most of all, my inspiration to explore many other possibilities. Hence, bigger dreams, or rather, a vision in life that would not be limited to myself as an individual.

I am learning more about love, and what it means to be unconditional. I am aware that the deficit that I occasionally feel cannot be filled by the love of a significant other. In those moments that I was focused on finding that one kind of love, I almost forget that there is an abundance of love pouring out from the closest of friends and my family. The question of how much is a simple matter of give and take.

Regarding love, I am reminded that I need to love myself a little more, as well as keep on believing that Someone Much Greater has loved me first. Now to understand how much is a matter of looking beyond my existence.

It helps to take note of how beautifully He made this world. Every sunrise, sunset, the colorful translucence of the sea, the rusty hues of fall foliage, the soothing sound of rain and the sight of rainbows, the rush of waterfalls, the winsome smile of my daughter, the adoring attention of my pets --- each of which I thoroughly enjoy --- I am humbled when I realize that God placed them there because of the joy it brings me (or humankind for that matter).

As for taking on yet another chance of falling in love, well, I was asked by someone a couple of times on that. I am basking in the fragrance of the garden of friendship. True, one can find many flowers, but my eye is fixed on a particular blossom that needs some tending to. It's time my friend asks the right question.

In terms of the talents that I was given, I am a bit disappointed at how I have not used them so much. I do not look forward to getting on in my years regretting that I never framed any of my drawings, or painted a masterpiece, learned to play music better and bring it up to a level good enough to write a song, shared my poems or essays, or published that love story I began writing (but never quite finished) when I was 14. But as I am learning how to live life in an uncomplicated manner, I will definitely take the time to unearth these talents one by one.

I'd like to stop simply feeling sorry for those who are stricken with misfortune and find ways of significantly helping them, to be more sincere, generous, and encouraging. In the face of the disasters that are yet to come, I don't want to be satisfied with just ensuring my own family's comfort and safety.

I am not going to look back at the last forty years and focus on what I would have liked to change. I have accepted all that and not hold anyone responsible for the outcome, not even myself. They all happened for a reason.

I am still here for a reason, and I am beginning to get it all figured out.

July 1973

Story of "My Life"

Life begins at 40, people always say, and it is with this view that I evaluate my gains, successes, and yes, my failures in the hope that when the big four-oh begins I would have a better picture of what I'd like my life to be.

If my life were a TV series, this would be my review.

To give you the lowdown on the series called "My Life", my leading man of 12 years had already left the show for good. There were other unforgettable tearjerkers, such as the loss of the firstborn at the start of the marriage and years before that, the giving up on the hope of realizing my big dream in another country during my bachelorette days.

In the last two years, I've portrayed my dual-role as a single mother to a tweener and a full-time career woman in seemingly unremarkable episodes that were occasionally saved by cameo guest appearances. I am thankful that my co-stars never failed to remind me that the show must go on no matter what.

Things turned around when 2O11's brand new season saw incremental changes in the storyline, starting with an unexpected source of inspiration. And life was reborn, with the theme, "redemption".

My dear loyal supporters, the ones who have stayed around, were more than pleased. And with the show's new direction, people are expecting changes...will the now-liberated heroine throw a huge party for her friends to celebrate the milestone, blowing out candles on a cake that says “40 and a little bit naughty”?

In the meantime, I've embarked on a minor reinvention of my screen image, favoring an uneven messed-up shorter style and updated make-up. There is NO WAY I will follow in the footsteps of matrons with their distinctive vacuum-sealed expressions concealed by heavy makeup or uncoordinated outfits highlighting convex figures.

In a business where agelessness exacts a hefty price, I have to remember that a personal enhancement program or health maintenance routines can be justified. If do not consider the initiative worth my investment, then how could I expect to fulfill the things that I am interested in but I haven't tried?

If I were to take up pole dancing, climb another mountain, swim alongside a whale shark, publish my writings, start a business, go on a volunteer vacation, produce documentaries or assemble a desktop computer from scratch, I'd do whatever it takes to defy aging. I'd rather live the rest of my days trying, instead of being trapped in a mindset that would banish me and my dreams to some gloomy corner in a squeaky rocking chair.

I would even defy conventions and explore a new approach to my role as a cougar when a new love interest enters the scene. Should the ratings surge, maybe the season finale might feature a second-time blushing bride.

Well, maybe it's a tad too early for that idea to be finally written in the script. After all, I need to remind myself that I do not write it, and that I take my instructions from my Director. Since it is never His protocol to allow retakes, He never lets the cameras roll until He is certain that I am in character. I may be in the spotlight, but it is HIS SHOW, classified under inspirational drama that promotes human value.

On and on, my story will go, with the yin and yang, light and darkness, with lessons from the past as well as insights that will help me move it forward.

It’s never too late to become what I might have been. So life, just like the show, must go on.

Moving On with 'Moving On'

Took a trip down memory lane once again,though this time it happened quite unplanned on a Friday night when a friend from a distant past invited me over for an intimate post-birthday get-together. She and I had already started catching up on FB, and then months ago met up at a reunion with schoolmates. Even on such short notice, I couldn't pass up the chance to reconnect with another friend whom I hadn't seen since our chance run-in back in college.

I had but spent two years studying at the same school with them; on the other hand, my two friends graduated from high school together and had been a part of each other's lives for a lot longer, hence more familair with each other's histories of ups and downs.

Over heaps of pasta and nibbles of chocolates at my host's cozy condo unit, we caught up with what was going on with our other friends, laughed when we couldn't uncork the bottle of Beaujolais, posed for group shots, remembering at the same time an old photo of us when we were in the third grade. There was that funny moment where no one could recall whose little brother posed with us in the picture. We filled in the gaps for each other whenever trivial details were left out or mixed up. In the end we decided to let forgetfulness carry us through a profusion of memories. This is the year where we were all turning forty and we had just begun reflecting on life, each of us in varying degrees of transition.

After I gave an account of my post-marriage life, my host asked if I had moved on, maybe more than once. I said 'yes', though for an instant I pondered whether my response held a genuine conviction and was not merely self-motivating talk.

To me, "moving on" is a journey. At the far end of the continuum was my grappling with the realization of the loss of shared dreams and commitments, my rage as a woman scorned --- which fury hell hath no (borrowing Jack Sparrow's line). With the passing of time I am spared with a sanity that remains intact and faith that continues to grow. Under the current circumstances I am pushed to balance personal ambition and the obligations of being a single parent and a career woman.

Occasionally, I get stuck with anger or blame along the way, or grow restless to fill the void left by an unfaithful soul mate. However, once I am in the company of other women who have gone through a similar experience, I regain my focus. As with my numerous reunions with female friends as of late, the bonding with these two caring women revived and nurtured.


And so I added, I am in the middle of getting my life back on track. In fact, I made a step past moving on and instead, moved FORWARD, as I talk about my growing fondness for a male friend who acted as my stormbreaker. No need to label the relationship at the moment, I told them, but it was enough that finally I am beginning to feel alive and hopeful that better things can still and WILL unfold wherever the journey goes.

Who knows? Perhaps next time, our dinner conversation will overflow with scoops a of a budding romance.