saturday sneak peek

I rested for most of the morning because I had been on the verge of falling ill the night before. The cat stared at me from the other end of the bed, probably wondering why I was still not up.

When I felt a bit better I tagged along with my parents and sister to check out a garage sale by friends who are moving out. I got myself this pair of ceramic cups which are perfect for holding my pens and highlighters. You can never have too many pens and highlighters.

I was still feeling a bit under the weather but I made myself deal with long-postponed chores that could help ease and release stagnant energies in the house. I finally got around to organizing the bedroom bookshelf.

I also finally got around to clearing and organizing the art corner (which also happens to be the room's love and relationship bagua so maybe something nice will happen in that aspect of our lives). 

I have sideline/dayjob work to do and I just keep telling myself that it will all be done soon enough.

My Reading Buffet, or Why I Read More Than Ten Books At A Time

Ten books is an understatement. If I were to trust my Goodreads record I actually have about eighty books on my Currently Reading List. But I want to keep the number to the books I have been actively reading through for the past two weeks.

Reading multiple books naturally slows me down but just to be clear, I do get to finish them. According to my Goodreads record, again, I am 28%, or 11 books, ahead of this year's Reading Challenge.

Books are my therapy. More specifically, owning them, reading them, and highlighting my favorite passages, not to mention copying those passages and using them in my various writings. I read both fiction and non-fiction, popular as well as literary works. I am partial to fantasy and mythologies and books with magic.

But why do I read so many at the same time? Because I get impatient. And I have this irrational need to feel that I am moving along more than one story. Maybe it is a way of filling my near-absent social life, filling in my social calendar with different stories instead of different parties. But I also like pursuing a thread of thought or the urge of a mood as soon as possible. That is the impatience working. The thought or the urge could be triggered by anything. It could be a genuine need for knowledge and information that could be useful for my work. It could be pure whim or curiosity from hearing a book or an author or a subject mentioned in fils, or even another book, that has moved me in some way. Neil Gaiman gets me going on a lot of reading, helping me discovering authors and genres in the process, expanding my reading appreciation. So does Joseph Campbell and Julia Cameron.

I have this strange constant sense of running out of time. As if I am forever cramming for an exam or a graded recitation. I have this constant hunger, every single day, to learn something new or to feed myself new images and words and stories. I can feel that what I read buoy me up and help me survive every endeavor and every encounter. What I read may inspire me, or literally provide me with a nugget of knowledge that will enable me to save the day, or guide me in the decisions I have to make. Books are my lifeline. They anchor me amidst the sea of unpredictability of the everyday. They remind me of my values and set examples by which to conduct my life (Thank you, Jane Austen).

I seek the variety because it makes me feel that I am covering as much ground as I can. Who knows when familiarity with a specific subject might come in handy? I guess I also don't want to be limited to a very narrow range of topics that could severely limit my already challenged conversational skills. I make up for not being updated with current news and events by being well-versed in books. (I avoid the daily news because I avoid all the negativity and anger and vicious circles of blaming.)

I cannot be idle and not read. While I do enjoy the occasional meditative silence of being still, for most of the time I have to have a reading material of substance in my hands. A book or two in my bag plus books loaded in my smartphone and tablet give me the same comfort as a fully-loaded survival kit in a zombie apocalypse.

My reading list covers a wide range. I follow my heart which pages it wishes to explore at any given moment because that is also when I know that I will get the most from a book.

As of today here are what top my active list:

In my Kindle I have:

The Cuckoo's Calling, by Robert Galbraith
The Twenty-Four Hour Mind, by Rosalind Cartwright
Daily Rituals: How Artists Work, by Mason Currey
Writing Well, by William Zinsser
Writing To Learn, by Willian Zinsser

I love finding unexpected connections between the books I read, even when they seem so different. The important lessons gets echoed because they are important. And when I badly need some clue, a hint of budge in the right direction, my books often come to the rescue. Or sometimes, a simple line can bring a whole load of comfort when I feel most alone in a dreary endeavor and resolution seems too far away, such as this quote from Kafka:

"...time is short, my strength is limited, the office is a horror, the apartment is noisy, and if a pleasant, straightforward life is not possible then one must try to wriggle through by subtle maneuvers." -- excerpted from Daily Rituals: How Artists Work.

What's on your reading list this week?

midyear review

Come with a whoop,and come with a call.
Come with a whole heart or not at all.
(Neil Gaiman, The Ocean At The End Of The Lane)

I am on my third year of being independent from employed work. It has been a very rough road but every time I look back, even though there are a few tweaks I would like to have done, I never ever regretted the move to resign from a very lucrative employment.

Whenever I look back, what stand out are the shining moments of my rediscovery of my passions. The first time I painted after more than two decades. The first time I wrote a novel. The first time I acknowledged how much I love writing, reading, and making art after many years of believing that they were dispensable hobbies next to the career that everyone measured me with.

Last year the solo work got to a point that I was desperate. I was in danger of losing my home because I had missed payments. There were no projects for more than six months. I wished for a job.

This year the job came. And so did the projects. And I found myself in a quandary. But in the end I chose to be true to what I have become.

It sounds crazy. A steady, most likely very fat, paycheck given up for a continued life of financial roulette. All I had to do was say yes. But I said no.

It was not an easy decision. But my heart has been more vocal since I started on this particular journey and it would not give me peace. My mind came up with exquisite arguments, logical explanations of the hows which, I have always been told, should be left in the hands of the Universe. Logic can only take me so far. In the end, will I be happy? Will I wake up in the morning with optimism or with dread? Will I risk the joyful creative life I have started to build for a life that satisfied only the expectations of others?

At the hardest point of my contemplation, Neil Gaiman's The Ocean At The End Of The Lane presented itself like a sign. It had completely slipped my mind that it would be out already, and I stumbled into it on the way to a client meeting. A beacon amidst the turmoil of my own thoughts.

"How can you be happy in this world? You have a hole in your heart. You have a gateway inside you to lands beyond the world you know. They will call you, as you grow. There can never be a time when you forget them, when you are not, in your heart, questing after something you cannot have, something you cannot even properly imagine, the lack of which will spoil your sleep and your day and your life, until you close your eyes for the final time...you will die with a hole inside you, and you will wail and curse at a life ill-lived." (Neil Gaiman, The Ocean At The End Of The Lane)

The Year of True Paths is halfway through. After finally making that crucial decision I need to make a plan. Solid enough so I will be true to myself in the daily choices I make, loose enough to allow for the playful storytelling of the Universe. For instance, London. I know I want, I need, to be there. The how is not clear, but I can do my part every day in little ways. London is my love story now. Each day is a step closer to a happily ever after.

"...so I turned, randomly, down another road, and took a left, and a right. It was only then that I realized where I was going, where I had been going all along, and I grimaced at my own foolishness." (Neil Gaiman, The Ocean At The End Of The Lane)

I heard it said, "When two points are destined to touch, even if a direct connection is impossible, the Universe will always find a way."

My heart tells me it is only a matter of time. And what of time? There is plenty. There is always enough. It is always perfect.

spilled

This homemade video spilled out of me today. I have been in a strange mood for the past few weeks, inundated by too much work and besieged by dreams.

The images in the video are approximations of what I see playing in my head. I hope to capture it better when I have the time after all the madness of this month.

The music I used is by A Fine Frenzy, a song titled "Swan Song".

blue

i dream of the blue sea

a blue box that is bigger on the inside

the blue-ness of turquoise

the blue feeling of wanting to go somewhere

a handful of blueberries

that movie called blueberry nights

a blue sky streaked with gray

blue ink spilling like tears

the blue in the english flag

waking up that blue feeling again

the Doctor's blue suit

my tattered blue shoes

something blue to go with the old and the borrowed and the new

s.h.

captured into words on 2 July 2013, while settling into bed for sleep

clarity in the deep

watercolor, derwent inktense, on 300GSM rough paper

I am standing by my choice three years ago. I thought I could compromise but I couldn't. I have to be certain. I have to be clear.

So life may be a tougher and tighter a little while longer. But I don't mind. I have my books, my writing, and my art. I can feel the love of my family. I can feel the support of true friends.

Inspiration surrounds me everyday. There is so much around me that bring me joy and they don't cost a single centavo. Because they have been mine all along. Or they have been free for the taking all along.

London is still happening. Maybe not in the most obvious way. But it is happening. The Doctor and Sherlock agree on it.

the infinite stuff

There is no lack. The gifts of the universe are limitless. Be grateful. Know what you want. Be the best you can be. Be authentic. Be true to your passions. What is yours will come to you if you truly believe. Have faith. Life is always good. Be patient. Follow your true path. Find your North Star.

i am a bookaholic

It started when I was twelve years old. It was during summer vacation and my best friend then took me to the public library. I was the kind of kid who stayed home so I discovered places only when people took me to them. I was thrilled to find out I could get my own library card without much fuss. I did and that was the beginning.

Being twelve, I started off with the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. But those quickly ran out because I was a voracious reader. I read two to three books in a day or two and I had to go to the library at least thrice a week during the summer and twice during schooldays.

I began venturing into bookstores and touching the shiny brand new books on the shelves. I began smelling books and loved both new-book-smells and old-book-smells. When I was in high school, I asked that my Christmas and birthday gifts be books. Brand new ones from the bookstore. The librarians in the public library became fond of me, and waved away fines and gave me extensions and most especially, allowed me to take out more books than was permitted.

In college I was fortunate to get into a university with a very impressive library. I became its denizen and the librarians there also gave me the same privileges. I used up three to four library cards in a single semester.

Any extra money I saved up from my allowances I used to buy books.

When I started working, I spent a lot of money on books. At one point I had more than a thousand crammed in the tiny bedroom that I shared with my sister in the small apartment where I lived with my family.

I would buy books almost every week. Not just from bookstores with their brand new volumes but also from second-hand book shops. Then the internet happened and I discovered an online auction site for books and I outbid everyone else on the books I wanted. The owner of that site eventually became a very good friend.

Sometime in 1999 I sold off more than half of my book collection to fund a trip.

Two years later I moved to a higher-paying job and was able to replenish my personal library. It was even more intense that time, the book-buying, for the books took the place of everything else that work did not consume. Books became my lifeline to sanity.

Eight years later I quit the job that had been eating up my life and then I started selling off my books again to raise funds to sustain a freelancer's life. Now I wish I had been more discerning because there were titles I wish I never sold.

Three years later I began the process of recovering the books I had lost and adding new ones that feed my rediscovered passions. My library today has about 500-600 books, including those in my Kindle.

In the past three years I have simplified my lifestyle to the point that I have significantly reduced my monthly spendings and have channeled my retail therapy to just three things: books, writing materials, and art materials.

I particularly enjoy fantasy, fairy tales, mythology, basically anything with magic and supposedly impossible things. I also like a bit of philosophy and psychology. I like books on writing and poetry - Susan Wooldridge, Anne Lamott, Ann Patchett. I like the occasional chick lit and I like inspirational books along the lines of Julia Cameron, Zen, Anna Johnson, Paulo Coelho. I have favorites among the classics : Jane Austen's novels, Sherlock Holmes, the mysteries of Agatha Christie. I like food and travel books : Ruth Reichl, M.F.K. Fisher, Jamie Oliver.

In authors I absolutely love Neil Gaiman. Then there's Nick Bantock, Barbara Hodgson -- writers who are also artists. I love Sarah Addison Allen.  Joseph Campbell is right up there with Neil.

I admire bloggers who have become authors -- Holly Becker and Grace Bonney.

There are many others but I don't want to make this a very long list. I will write about most of them anyway as I read through the days.

My latest book loot is from yesterday, when I stepped out to air myself after being cooped up for two days because I was ill. I wandered into the secondhand bookshop in the supermarket and walked out with these:

The Ethnography book is just a geeky thing for me because it is part of what I do to earn a living. And it is ridiculously cheap at Php50.

The Dante Club is something I have been curious about and the copy was in very good condition for only Php148. I plan to read the original Dante before reading this one to enhance my appreciation.

The School Of Essential Ingredients is hardbound and I have a sample of it in my Kindle and it is on my to-buy list. I paid less than half for what it would cost me to purchase it on Kindle. A great bargain indeed.

This week alone I spent twice on books. But I don't splurge on anything else. No more clothes and shoes I would only wear once. No more wasteful time and money spent with pseudo-friends. No more unnecessary products in the grocery cart. Yes, it is all about books, writing, and art now. But most especially books.

snapshots

Bills to pay loom every month. I have to keep working to keep paying. I wish there was a better alternative to all this.

I badly want to make art but I am struggling with work.

A little bit made for someone whom I really like and admire so much and who has been inspiring me no end for the past eight years.

My NaNoWriMo novel is getting some good treatment in between heavy loads of work. 

Recovering old titles I had and loved and sold years before to raise funds for a trip.

Discovered and loving Snapeee, a photo app.

What I hope to do more consistently every single day.

birthday greeting for my best friend

born on the 12th of May

cloudy, with a chance of a blue box

First, the weather report.

And then a piece of doggerel. Just because I am trying to calm myself from the excitement of a day off today.

I'm having a day off because I did not sleep for more than 24 hours the other night. Hence I need to take it slow and let the rest of me catch up. Before that I have been working nonstop for every day of the past two weeks. So much that I did not get to complete my April Camp NaNoWriMo

I also did a pretty good client presentation yesterday and I believe I deserve the treat of a time off.

And then things are starting to move again. Two job opportunities waiting in the wings. And I could not help remembering that astrological reading I got in India and the memory of which has become garbled through the years. Because a there is a hint of it popping up again. And after so many false alarms I am inclined to just let this one do its parade and then ignore it.

Meanwhile I am going to clean out my closet, and then my kitchen cabinets. I feel like a good summer cleaning.

Enough of Just Dreaming

I am Making Plans.

My target is to go to London within the next two years. Possibly the most expensive travel destination I dare dream of. Even friends who have "done" Europe rarely venture into England. But for me, London is my bull's eye. I don't care much for Paris. My heart is striped with the Union Jack.

No, it is not just because of Sherlock with whom I have been getting thoroughly crazy about in the past few days. But ever since I was a teenager I have been drawn to London, I can't remember now why but I do remember that while my classmates wanted to go to America, I wanted to go to England. Layer that with all the great books I have read that were set in it, especially the magical ones. The best authors are English, in my opinion. Layer that with my natural predilection for British bands. Layer that with my devotion to Neil Gaiman.

I have zero savings yet for this trip but I intend to start one...now. With a hundred pesos. A symbolic start. I will assign a jar for it. Then every time it gets filled I will put it in the bank - I have a separate savings account that I opened just for this purpose, for saving up for big things.

I will convert one of my walls into a planning wall. A giant vision board. A constant daily reminder of where I am going.

I can't say what triggered me into action. It is probably the Time for it to start happening. A critical mass of events and situations finally set things into motion. Many Signs have been lit. Messages have been sent by the universe in myriad forms.

That new Suede song "It Starts And Ends With You", I am finally beginning to understand why it called out to me and tugged at me the very first time I heard it, what it means for me now, why it is the theme song that hums beneath this big adventure.

Full circles. Re-integration into wholes. True Paths.

Instructions

by Neil Gaiman

Touch the wooden gate in the wall you never

saw before.

Say "please" before you open the latch,

go through,

walk down the path.

A red metal imp hangs from the green-painted

front door,

as a knocker,

do not touch it; it will bite your fingers.

Walk through the house. Take nothing. Eat

nothing.

However, if any creature tells you that it hungers,

feed it.

If it tells you that it is dirty,

clean it.

If it cries to you that it hurts,

if you can,

ease its pain.

From the back garden you will be able to see the

wild wood.

The deep well you walk past leads to Winter's

realm;

there is another land at the bottom of it.

If you turn around here,

you can walk back, safely;

you will lose no face. I will think no less of you.

Once through the garden you will be in the

wood.

The trees are old. Eyes peer from the under-

growth.

Beneath a twisted oak sits an old woman. She

may ask for something;

give it to her. She

will point the way to the castle.

Inside it are three princesses.

Do not trust the youngest. Walk on.

In the clearing beyond the castle the twelve

months sit about a fire,

warming their feet, exchanging tales.

They may do favors for you, if you are polite.

You may pick strawberries in December's frost.

Trust the wolves, but do not tell them where

you are going.

The river can be crossed by the ferry. The ferry-

man will take you.

(The answer to his question is this:

If he hands the oar to his passenger, he will be free to

leave the boat.

Only tell him this from a safe distance.)

If an eagle gives you a feather, keep it safe.

Remember: that giants sleep too soundly; that

witches are often betrayed by their appetites;

dragons have one soft spot, somewhere, always;

hearts can be well-hidden,

and you betray them with your tongue.

Do not be jealous of your sister.

Know that diamonds and roses

are as uncomfortable when they tumble from

one's lips as toads and frogs:

colder, too, and sharper, and they cut.

Remember your name.

Do not lose hope — what you seek will be found.

Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped

to help you in their turn.

Trust dreams.

Trust your heart, and trust your story.

When you come back, return the way you came.

Favors will be returned, debts will be repaid.

Do not forget your manners.

Do not look back.

Ride the wise eagle (you shall not fall).

Ride the silver fish (you will not drown).

Ride the grey wolf (hold tightly to his fur).

There is a worm at the heart of the tower; that is

why it will not stand.

When you reach the little house, the place your

journey started,

you will recognize it, although it will seem

much smaller than you remember.

Walk up the path, and through the garden gate

you never saw before but once.

And then go home. Or make a home.

And rest.

crazy about

and his friend John Watson. The call of London gets stronger every day.

new tumblr page

To help spread the happy energies and inspiration I have created a tumblr version of my art page.

Drop by at lovemarichit.tumblr.com

currently hooked

The exercises get more complicated as the chapters go by but I am having tons of fun! This is certainly something to feel good about when other things in my life are needing a boost.

I have been having dreams of slaying dragons and I know my subconscious is telling me something very important. Maybe I will meditate on it by painting more.

a little fantasy dress

One day while I was on my way to the dentist, and riding a jeepney on a hot Friday afternoon, my earphones plugged in and playing The Stone Roses' Love Spreads thereby effectively drowning out the cacophony of street noises, a little fantasy came unbidden to me. Maybe it was the song. Maybe it was the unexplainable surge of optimism in my heart. Maybe it was the lingering memory of something that put a smile to my face.

It was a little love story fantasy and somehow I saw myself in it wearing a very specific dress. It was a dress I have been looking at every time I went to the supermarket. It was sold in one of the bargain stalls and did not even have a brand but it was nicely made. It was inexpensive too, except that I had been really scrimping for England and monthly bills so I could not just buy things. I already got a new dress for my birthday last month (another inexpensive piece from the same stall) and another new one barely a month after seemed too extravagant.

However that little fantasy played repeatedly in my head and after the dentist appointment I found myself in the supermarket and gravitating towards that bargain stall.

I said to myself that if the dress was still there then I would buy it. It has been there since January and it was possible that it would have been bought already.

All the other dresses that were displayed with it were already gone. All sold out.

I couldn't find the fantasy dress.

One final sweep of the rack and there it was. My heart leapt.

And now the dress is mine.

on a hot saturday afternoon

I cleaned my house. More importantly, I finally got around to fixing the horrible mess of wires and cables behind the TV shelf. I finally extricated the broken DVD player and re-arranged everything. The vintage Star Wars poster that had languished in storage for years is now up on the wall. I finally got around to play my vintage Beatles LP and pleased to discover that it is still in good condition. I found a spot to display the pretty sleeve design of Heathen Chemistry, the Oasis album which I stumbled upon last Monday and could not leave the store without. It totally messed with my budgets and I am sacrificing a few meals in the process but... an Oasis LP! I have always been a Liam Gallagher girl. Champagne Supernova has been part of my life soundtrack way back in the 90s (and it still is today). In Heathen Chemistry, I love the song The Hindu Times.

"In and out my brain

You're runnin' through my vein

You're my sunshine 

You're my rain"

- The Hindu Times, Oasis

it starts and ends with you

You know that experience when you fall so madly in love with a song and you can't stop playing it over and over again and every time it plays it is like the first time you hear it and your heart just explodes all over the place each time and you become just a little bit supernatural, straddling this world and that world where the song is and where a story of your life unfolds like some kind of a fairy tale except you cannot see it clearly yet but you know it's there and that you will get there eventually? It's a song that takes you out of yourself and closer to the place where you have always dreamed to be, as close to kissing the sun without burning, as deep as you dare to dive into the ocean without drowning. All your lethargic dreams are wakened by this song, even the lost ones, the forgotten ones. This song is a call to the core of your spirit. A call to journey and finish what has languished in your life because you became too concerned with what mattered less than what really matters. This song is the anthem to your happily ever after, maybe. If you are brave enough. If you let the song weave the magic through you. You can feel it already. Your body moves of its own accord, your heart beats a rhythm that is familiar and frightening and exhilarating all at the same time, your mind opens up to avenues to thought that were not accessible before. Your soul sings along. If you had special magic glasses you could probably see how the pulsing light of your soul thrums and travels and spreads through the cosmic web, unlocking chapters, touching other sleeping souls, leaving markers. The magic shimmers on your skin (it will call to what is yours), coats the tip of your tongue (be careful what you say), weaves through the veins of your heart (be careful what you wish), and seeps through your dreams at night (find the Dream King).

And I've worn so many faces

Shot my love at fifteen paces

My inheritance is all the thoughts I can't sweep away

I shout out but I just spin faster

I crawl out but my knees are water

I cling on by my nails to the sweet disaster

And I fall to the floor like my strings are cut

Pinch myself but I don't wake up

Spit in the wind 'cause too much is not enough

It starts and ends with you

(Suede, It Starts And Ends With You)

geek alert

I joined Scribd, which is hailed as a YouTube for Documents. There are catalogs from various book publishers, class lectures, serious papers -- lots of pretty useful stuff if you're doing research or merely curious. I found a paper discussing the shift from Feudalism to Capitalism which I saved for later reading. Don't ask me why. Certain things I just find interesting.

The site also shares book excerpts and I discovered this:

I have to admit, I want it.

Stuff like this interest me. Plus I really really like studying, as long as it's on a subject I like. There is a secret part of me that actually wants to be forever in a university, studying and doing research and writing papers. Spending days in the library. Hanging out in coffee shops and bookstores. Having exciting conversations with fellow learners.

If I could, I would like to go back to college and earn another degree, or two. Maybe I could. I wonder if I will survive the long homework nights as well as I did when I was eighteen. I'll take up Literature, Creative Writing, and Psychology. Then maybe take extra courses on History and Language Studies. All those reading to be done! Perfect excuse to stay curled up with books, paper, and pen for whole days.