Tito Will

I believe I should introduce you to someone very dear to me, my Tito Will. He’s certainly an inspiration to me in my writing. He’s witty, hilarious at times, clever, and most certainly intelligent. Yes, he can be a little bit of a temperamental drama king, but I believe that’s just part of his persona. I (as well as some other friends of mine0 love him. Actually, Tito Will is world-famous. It’s just that, of course, he’s known by his real name --- William Shakespeare.

That’s right. I call Shakespeare my uncle. The Bard of the Elizabethan Age (and, for that matter, one of the most well-known writers in the history of mankind) is considered part of my extended family. I love the author so much, I self-declared him a relative of mine.

This madness is actually an inside joke between my friend Charlie and I (Only, he calls Shakespeare “Ninong Willie”). He was the one who started the whole hurrah of The Bard being a relative. When I heard him refer to Shakespeare as his Ninong, I immediately thought “What an ingenious idea!” (Rather than “Okay? That’s weird”). And so, a new, creative, widely read member of my family was hereby inducted. Now, whenever we feel like sending random lines from Sonnet 18 or other Shakespeare quotes, we jokingly mention that Tito Will asked us to say that to the other. Haha!

Yes, I do hear what you’re thinking, and I suppose, you’re correct. Who am I, anyway, to call one of the most well-known and profoundly influential writers in history my uncle? What gives me the right to give myself acquaintance to the man who wrote “Romeo and Juliet”, arguably (maybe even, unarguably) the most well-known romance on the face of the planet? He is, after all, the most famous English writer ever. My goodness! Even nine year-olds know who William Shakespeare is already. He’s right up there in the Hall of Literary Geniuses. I, on the other hand, am not. So what was I doing trying to relate to him by calling him Tito?

But you see, reaching out to new heights and relating to people is what literature is all about. In literature, there are no boundaries, and the soul is allowed to fly to wherever it feels like --- Narnia, 16th century England, anywhere. So yes, calling a literary rock star like Shakespeare your uncle is most definitely allowed. To bar someone from doing so is just antithesis to literature’s free, unlimited nature.

And you know what? I believe it is that --- the mindset that renowned writers such as Shakespeare, Victor Hugo, and Pablo Neruda are as unreachable as that cookie jar on the top shelf is for a little child --- which turns some people off from literature. It’s that overwhelming feeling that they’re not good enough to read a certain author that partially contributes to a general idea of stuffiness about reading, which is false.)

Every author reveals a piece of themselves in their words. They’re actually trying to connect to you, relate to you. So if you feel that tug in your heart that the words you are reading hit the spot, go ahead. Call them uncle.

Now, I must end. My Papa needs the laptop for his trip to his Colombian hometown. I think you recognize his name --- Gabriel Garcia Marquez!

Merely Filipino

Basically, this was a conversation between a friend of mine and I (translated into English).


Him: Uhm….Ate Alexis, I have a little question for you, if you don’t mind

Me: Sure, no problem. Ask away.

Him: Well, your look’s very…different. It makes me wonder and want to ask you whether you’re pure Filipina or not.

Me: *chuckles* Actually, I’ve been asked that a lot. Well, the answer is I’m not. I’m, in fact, Filipina, Caucasian American, French, Indian, Hungarian, and Spanish. That’s in different parts.

Him: *rather astonished* Oh! Wow! Cool! Good for you! I wish I had your heritage rather than merely purely Filipino.

Yes, that’s right. That list of nationalities is indeed my bloodline. That roster that seems more like a United Nations delegate list is, in fact, a basic run-down of my heritage. I am indeed an international pastiche. And guess what. I’m not even sure if that’s all that is part of my bloodline. There may be more nations in there I’m not aware of. Mixed is an understatement for me!

According to friends, my being multi-racial is very much conspicuous in my looks. Even I have to agree with them. My Indian side, especially, is very much apparent in my appearance. You could see it from my thick, wavy, dark, jet black tresses, eyebrows and lashes. My high, prominent cheekbones also show that bit of heritage. My big, deeply-set almond eyes also show signs of India, so does my bronzed skin. In other words, no, I don’t look like a Filipina, apparently.

I suppose this is why I’m always mistaken for a foreigner. Anywhere I go, sort of without fail, I would always get questions from people who stop and look at me. Just what question would they like to ask? “So, how are you finding your holiday in the Philippines?”

And it isn’t just limited to Filipinos. Even foreigners mistake me for one of them. One rather clear example of that was that Pakistani jewelry store incident I’ve mentioned in a previous entry (Typical Filipina). It makes me chuckle remembering those “fun with heritage” moments. Oh yeah! It’s amazing to be mixed.

Wait a second. What did my friend say again? Did he just say “merely Filipino”? Merely is a word usually used to downgrade the one next to it. Did he just insinuate that being purely Filipino is not as lovely as being multi-racial?

As I’ve been rubbing in through my entries, I believe that every person in this planet is lovely. Every person has a race and nationality, so, in turn, every nationality is lovely as well. Oh sure. It’s the Caucasians that have the white skin that many desire, but who says only that’s beautiful? Oh sure. It’s the Middle Eastern and Indian people that have the big doe eyes many find captivating, but who says only that’s beautiful? Oh sure. It’s the Latinas who have that curvaceous, sexy body a lot of people work out in some gym for, but who says only that’s beautiful.

The truth is black, white, Asian, Latina or a combination of these ---- all of us are lovely. Why? Because each of us has something lovely we can offer the world. We are different from each other, and that diversity is lovely indeed. It makes the world a lot more interesting and colourful.

What? The United Nations is calling me to be their honourary ambassador? Why not!

Thick-Faced

Those are most certainly words used to describe me. The number of times those two words have been used on me is indeed immeasurable. Yes, I am indeed the type of person who doesn’t mind doing things normally inebriated people do on stage. I’m that girl everyone requests to be the “bridge” for their question to be voiced in symposia. I’m that girl who sings out loud whilst walking just for sheer fun. Yeah, I really do have a plywood face!

I suppose I’ve always been Little Miss Confidence. Whilst most little girls shied away from their parents’ and aunts’ cameras, I gamely posed for them (Literally! I was doing model poses in shots when I was seven!). It was, then, further developed because of my consistent membership in my school’s theatre club. I was also a debater and orator in high school. So yes, basically, I spent many of my scholastic and childhood memories on stage.

I brought that thick-face over into real life, as well. I’ve always been known as an advocate of free, unadulterated (sometimes, loud) self-expression. I don’t mind saying what I mean (Anyway, it’s usually compliments!). I’m also one of the few people I know daring enough to wear earrings big enough to double as key
chains. I also possess a voice that makes people think I swallowed a megaphone ) and didn't bother to have it surgically removed (honed by theatre and public speaking). So yes, basically, call me shy, and everyone would guffaw.

And it is with that same bold, thick face I did my homework for Women in Media class. We were tasked to interview any young woman in the field of media and write an article about her. When I heard that task, something in my mind immediately raced to one person, Elisabeth Baumgart. I was such a huge fan of this columnist, reporter and blogger that my heart just had to scream into my mind to get her as a subject.

You think it’s simple? Oh no! For one thing, well, she’s from Cebu. The paper she writes in doesn’t really have an avid following here in Manila. What was an Alabang girl like me doing asking someone who lives in another island to be her subject in her project? And for another, I know how jam-packed her schedule is. Between organizing socio-civic events, writing for her Sun Star-Cebu column, and doing her work for her scholarship, how would she ever find the time to answer a questionnaire from some student from Manila?

But I did it. I put all my queries down and sent it to her e-mail, albeit with butterflies in my stomach. I really didn’t expect much. I even interviewed another person as back-up. Hey, even if she didn't respond, at least I tried. Whatever will be will be.

And then, I saw it. It was a response e-mail from one e.baumgart. Whist suppressing my squeals and jumping up and down like some madwoman, I read it. This is an excerpt of what it said:

“...I’m quite surprised to find that my “Inkblots” column has reached Manila! That makes you two readers of mine --- you and my mother.


If you need any help, just text me at _______________.

I’m sorry it took a while to answer your questions, but I hope it helps.

Lis”

*cue me squealing like a fan girl*

Yes, she responded to my e-mail. And all it took was a thick face and a little help from Charlie (to get her e-mail address. Huge, huge thanks are due you, frére âme!) to have someone I quite admire as a subject for my Women in Media article. Even I couldn’t believe it was that simple (Yes, I take back what I said earlier. It was, admittedly, simple.).

Com to think of it, many things we'd like to do that we deem very tough are pretty simple if only we decide to just go for it and take that plunge. Meeting a new friend is simple if only take that bold step of walking up to that interesting person and introducing yourself. Having a chance at winning that competition is fairly simple if only we decide to actually join. And yes, you actually meeting someone you admire is pretty simple if we have the courage to come up to them (whether in person or via the web) and pour out your looking up to them. It just takes a step from thick-faced you.

What? You have this itching desire to see if my face really is made of plywood? Go on then!

Three-Inch Heels

In recent news (in particular, news that probably only I care about), well, remember those mesmeric gold pumps that were beckoning and enticing me to buy them three weeks ago? Well, they’re finally home, safe in the arms (and shoe rack) of their Mum, mingling with new-found friends from Italy to Bangkok to Divisoria. Yes, I finally have them, along with the accompanying cork. Am I ecstatic? Oh yeah! I may finally enjoy all that sophisticated, shiny, gold footwear goodness and the three and a half inch heel attached to it.

Yes, I said that right, three and a half inches of heel. Indeed, those pointy stalactites are attached to the soles of those shoes. Yes, indeed those are stilt-like. And guess what. Those are not my tallest heels yet! That honour goes to these plum sandals my sister gave me. How tall are they? Oh, they’re just a mere four and a half inches. Hello, leg strain!

Oh! I can see many a girl’s face all aghast at my choice of footwear. I can see the mouths gaping open and the eyes all shocked. Well, you are not alone. The sales ladies at SM had a lengthy discussion with me about my then-about-to-be-purchased shoes before scanning the item, telling me how scared they are for me. Some of my female friends are also known to be all shook up and wincing at my foot raising devices. In fact, my dear friend Monea (who, by the way, sings praises of ballerina flats) has once told me that she’s going to die if forced to wear any of my shoes and subject her feet to the excruciating torture of super high heels.

And yes, I completely understand. After all, it did take years of practice for me to be comfortable in wearing the stilts I am now infamous for (I wore my first pair of heels at age seven, by the way. So yes, I've been wearing foot raisers for about 14 years.) Not a lot of girls are willing to put themselves through the burning, blistery, tensile ordeal that is wearing high heels, and well, the fact that I chose to power through the pain just makes me the exception. Even I have to admit it was most certainly uncomfortable at first.

But wait. Aren’t things of worth scary, painful and uncomfortable at first? Giving to a charity, for example, stings a little because of that money diverted away from your budget. Trying to get into the dean’s list hurts because of the time you have to spend not doing things that, admittedly, are way more enjoyable than studying. Reaching out to that person who needs you is uncomfortable because you run the risk of being rejected, ignored and losing face. But we still go for it and power on. Why? It is because we know that the pain is a tiny fraction compared to the rewards after. We know that after being uncomfortable lies the realisation that we actually did it for something significant, something that makes all the fear and torture worth it.. And that’s why we choose to do it, whatever it is that your heart is set to fulfill.

What’s that? It’s still not an excuse for my choice of heels-that-may-double-as-murder-weapons? Oh fine!

Unfair

Have you ever felt that some relationships are like that? You know, one partner gives their whole heart, soul and inner being to the one they love. And what does the other person do? Nothing, that’s what. One person overflows with passion for someone dear to them whilst that person is frigid towards them.

What was that? It sounds like a very good story concept for a short story, novel, or perhaps even a film? Yes, I completely agree. It’s such an interesting premise, so interesting I wouldn’t really mind sinking around P150 to be able to view the drama that is the plot. I could definitely see myself lost in the film, perhaps even crying for the protagonist as they give their heart wholly to someone who’d shatter it. Yeah, I’ll buy that.

But what if this rather annoying situation happened not in the safety of the silver screen or the pages of a novel but in real life --- right there in front of your physical (as opposed to imaginative) eyes? What if instead of this happening to your favourite romantic protagonist, it happened to someone so dear to you? What if that very much infuriating situation really happened?

Yeah, I hear you. You’d probably scream the following words to that love struck person.

“What? Look! You spend all your energy giving to some schmuck who would even bother to give you the time of day. It’s irrational. What’s that all about?”

It just doesn’t make any sense, does it? Why would anyone in their right mind give their world for someone who’d just end up disappointing, nay, hurting them?

Well, I know Someone like that. In fact, He’s the most powerful, incredible being in existence. He made the entire universe to put a smile on the face of the people He constantly thinks about --- people He constantly thinks about whose minds are set on everything else. He pours out His flood of blessings to those that His heart beats for --- those His heart beats for who don’t bother listening to His voice. He gave His life for those He loves --- those He loves who shun Him to be just some distant figure in the backdrop.

And yet, despite it not making any sense, He still continues to care about us, flaws and all. Why? It’s simple. He loves us. Period. His love is unconditional. Nothing we can say or do will make Him love us less. That’s not to say we can do whatever the bleep we want. But it just goes to show how immeasurable, mighty, unfailing and matchless His love is.

Yes, it’s very much unfair. But hey! I’m grateful for that.

I'm Chuck Bass

“Why? Give me a reason to stay, and, no, ‘I’m Chuck Bass’ doesn’t count.”

Yeah I can see many a follower of the television show Gossip Girl snicker in laughter. Oh yeah! It is indeed that rather famous line Blair Waldorf uttered in the episode “Summer Kind of Wonderful”. Yes, that quote mentioned by her just as Chuck tried to stop her from leaving with Marcus. I have to admit that is one witty line, and that is why it’s making me, a rather hard GG fan, chuckle.

Okay, for those of you who have never gotten any news of or heard of this scandal-fest of a show (if you lot still exist, that is)i, let me brief you with some basics.

Charles Bartholomew Bass (or ,yes, Chuck) is a character in Cecily von Ziegesar’s series of novels, as well as the TV series based on it, called Gossip Girl (as if you didn’t know that!). He serves as the antihero for the programme’s plot. Chuck is basically your typical rich bad boy who does whatever the bleep he wants, whether it’s manipulating innocent Jenny Humphrey or getting off the hook in a snap from whatever alcohol-induced shenanigans he’s done at some party. Why can he? Well, it’s simply because he’s well, rich and influential, because he’s Chuck Bass. He can make the most obnoxious comments about you and get away with him not being smashed into pulp. Why? Because he’s Chuck Bass. He can sleep with as countless women per night as he wants. Why? Because he’s Chuck Bass. He can party harder than all the rockstars in history combined. Why? Because he’s Chuck Bass.

And yes, he knows that well. In fact, “I’m Chuck Bass” as a reason is one of his famous catchphrases. You hear it uttered as a reply every single time his best friend Nate Archibald or his partner-in-crime Blair Waldorf poses him that elusive rather overused word “Why?” He’s Chuck Bass. That’s who he is, and every bit of his entity states what he does as a person. Being Chuck Bass is the reason why he acts like, well, Chuck Bass.

And I suppose that’s how it is supposed to be with us (No, I don’t mean the alcohol and hormone-driven craziness!). The reason why we act the way we do should be ourselves, show our real personae. Whatever our beliefs are, whatever values we uphold, everything in us --- it should permeate its way from the inside out. We shouldn’t be afraid to be ourselves, to fully showcase our beings to others. Who we are should dictate what we do (Okay, so people are living contradictions. But you get what I mean.)

So, I’d give you a reason to stay, Blair. I’m Alexis Araneta, and, yes, it absolutely counts.

Lovely Eyebrows

“Okay? Well, I’ve never heard that one before. That was rather delightfully peculiar. Well, at least, it’s original. Uhm…thank you, I suppose.”

The preceding words were my initial reaction to a compliment one of my close friends, Charlie, told me. Those said kind words from him were so unexpected, so different that I was left rather bemused and having to digest the words for a few minutes or so. Let’s just say you probably won’t expect this quip about beauty said very often. So, just what did he tell me?

“Alexis, you have very lovely eyebrows.”

Eyebrows? Oh really now? You like my….beg your pardon? Well, that’s very unique.

But then again, those original words coming from Char's mouth is something to be rather expected, he being, well, original. One thing I've noticed about my wonderful soul brother is his innate creativity, especially when it comes to word play. He, being Mr. Literateur with the Expansive Vocabulary, always gives out such fresh ideas and quips, so fresh it makes you wonder why you never thought of them. The word "limited" is not applicable to him and his imagination. And yeah, it's one of the things I admire about mon frère âme. Probably, Charlie’s the only one daring enough to ever think of relating the words “lovely” and “eyebrow” and slap them into the same sentence.

But still, who compliments people on the strip of hair above their peepers, anyway?

Not to sound like I’m tooting my own horn, but I know that there are other physical features he could have commented on. I’ve been getting lovely words on my big, deeply-set Indian eyes since childhood. Ever since I got rid of the orthodontia, I’ve been hearing about how brilliant my smile is. Pretty recently, thanks to the salon miracle called hair rebonding, I’ve been receiving quips about how fabulous I look with straight hair. These are normal features to compliment on. So yes, it makes me wonder why his focus was on the eyebrows.

Oh well! At least, he has a private, Charlie thing that’s unique and endearing about him. And yes, it’s still a compliment.

Wait! Who says Charlie's wrong to notice my eyebrows? Who says eyebrows can’t be deemed beautiful? Who says that that strip of hair is limited to just that --- another strip of hair? Who says it can’t be a subject of compliments much like your eyes or smile? Who says eyebrows can’t be appreciated?

It’s pretty much the same with people, really. There is beauty apart from your usual Cosmopolitan cover queen or that Miss Universe winner. Who says you kitchen help should always be relegated to the background? Who says that lady guard who keeps checking you for identification couldn’t be considered beautiful? Most of all, who says you, yes you, aren’t lovely?

Everyone and everything has beauty in them. It’s just a matter of seeing and appreciating that blossom in each of us. It may not be the usual Angelina Jolie/Scarlett Johannson/ insert-it-girl-here kind of look that lands you magazine covers, but that isn’t the sole marker of beauty, is it? Beauty comes in all shades, shapes, sizes, and packages.

Now, if you excuse me, my apparently lovely, shapely brows need to be tweezed.

PS: Charlie, huge thanks for allowing me to use you as the relational subject of my post! If you find anything here you find hurtful, please feel free to tell me, okay?

And yes, continue to be creatively inspiring!