What do you fear most?

I've been asking myself that question for some time now, and I realized that the answer is change. I've lived most of my life in comfortable habit that to drastically do something so out of the ordinary like, say, having a baby, can definitely put my life in total chaos.

And it has, although 99 percent of the time, I'm loving that change. As for the other stuff however -- my job, my sexlife, my weight -- boy, do I have a problem with that. And for a lot of reasons.

I love my job, I knew from the moment I first saw my name in print that I'm destined for the written world. BUt I'm kind of in a slump right now and it feels like I'm travelling in a ground so straight that there seem to be no chance for me to go 'up'. I guess that's the problem with newspaper outfits, someone has to die before you get the chance to move a level up the food chain and handle your own section. In my case, it's harder because it seems the only chance to grow is if you know when to get down on your knees and pucker up for some serious ass kissing -- and believe me, I don't do ass. So where do I go now then? As glamorous as my life seem now, there are days when I'd rather stay at home and watch reruns of America's Next Top Model than challenge myself to a 4:30 deadline.

And don't even get me started with my sex life. I guess it's inevitable. Guys get freaked out when they hear the words 'single mom.' Not that I'm actually looking for it, but can you actually blame me if I'm looking for a night of heavy breathing (and I'm not talking about asthma!)? Sex, for me, is another language, and boy do I have some pentup thoughts I just need to say right now.

Sheesh. HEre I go again -- my weight issues are becoming a bit more alarming for me. I always thought all I had was baby weight, but seven months after and I still feel like I'm 3 months pregnant. Which is not helping me out at all with my problem number #2. So please, please tell me to step it up and just hit the gym.

This is such a nonsense post, but I feel like I got to write something. I'm pretty sure I'll do better next time.

###

Here's my lil boy now by the way -- the one with the big laugh

Full time job

I never thought being a mom is a full-time job. It doesn't matter that I now have two nannies to help me out, raising Anton has definitely taken-up most of my time. To think he's a good baby -- the only time I had a hard time putting him to sleep was in his first day at home. Today, thanks to the genius of nanny #1, he's actually following a sleeping pattern: A warm bath, a good night kiss, a bedtime story and a pacifier. He conks out pretty fast.

At the end of the day however, even when I'm all tired from work, seeing how peaceful and healthy he is just makes me think there's no other place I'd rather be.

***

Did I mention my kid's gorgeous? Not to brag about it, but I really believe that he is, gorgeous enough that I'm beginning to believe he looks nothing like his dad and I. Sometimes I feel like giving myself a pat on the back for a job well done.

Everyone who sees him, whether people we know or strangers at the mall always seem to say that he'll make girls cry someday. I hope he does (but not too much). Hehe.

When I'm with him, I sometimes feel like his nanny#3.

I'm beginning to sound like a stage mom, aren't I?

***

With nanny#3...

Baby Techie...

He's here! I can't believe it. I'm actually a mom. Huh.

It's a running joke among my gay friends that I'm actually one of them, except of course the fact that I have ovaries. So to be tagged for life to be one of the greatest professionals in the world -- a mother -- is just so gadamn unbelievable.

What can I say? My baby's a he, no doubt about it, he's got himself a big willie (take care of that my son! It can get you in a whole lot of trouble someday), and hands down the most gorgeous, exquisite creature I've ever seen. I might just be acting like a stage mom about this, but after 14 hours of excruciating labor (with self-inflicted pain to forget about the contractions) I can say anything I want about my son -- whether he looks like the next Brad Pitt or Jose of Eat Bulaga.

But he's perfect, isn't he?

This is a whole new adventure and it's scaring me to death.

But boy I can't wait to get it on.

Blog muse on vacation

My blog muse is missing.

But she'll be home anytime soon.

This is her, and she's here right now... envy.

"Playboy wants cut from kids' charity ball"

Fetched this news from wire service Duetsche Presse Agentur. It said that the multi-million dollar empire of Hugh Hefner is demanding 25 percent off a kid’s charity ball for using the ‘bunny theme.’ The event organizer said he opted to take off the bunny ears and bunny tail used by the ball’s waitresses just to keep complications with the group to a minimum. Total money raised for the whole event is 20,000 New Zealand dollars. The money will be used for sick and disabled children.
Incredible! This is a really complicated case – a private group banking on a smut magazine’s popularity just so they can raise enough money to help kids? I don’t know about Playboy, but even if the event is a total rip-off when it comes to idea, it’s just plain mean to take money from a goodwill cause. It might be human nature to be thinking of sex all the time, but it’s also human nature to help the needy! And in the end, it just sounds better to be humane than sleazy!
Give the charity ball a break and put this one on your good karma list.

Volcano Conquest

(conclusion...)

"Must… have… diet coke…"

THIS was my mantra during the first hour of my Mt. Pinatubo climb. Easy climb they said, HA! Walking up the sandy mountain is as easy as trying to get a phone patch interview with Madonna.

For the more experienced mountaineers, perhaps the trail is just a walk in the park. The path is not that steep, and the course is wide enough to give every climber his much-needed personal space (the sweat could smell pretty bothersome after a while).

But the coarse sand and large rocks proved to be an obstacle. Getting your feet wet from crossing rivers and THEN stepping once more on sand made me feel like I was lugging behind five pound weights, and that’s for each feet! This made me regret buying trekking sandals instead of proper shoes. Sand kept getting into my footwear and it was just hard, not to mention silly-looking when you try to shake those darn pebbles off. Ah, the price of being vain.

Anyway, the thought that this was already a matter of pride which kept me going to complete the whole journey. I was out to prove that little ‘ol me can also be pretty adventurous when it comes to outdoor activities. My editor, for one, was so apprehensive about me going up the mountain that she resolved to calling her close friends and letting them try to talk me out of the activity.

So I walked. And walked. Then walked some more. I was chatty at first, thinking that a good conversation would take my mind off the sand, the large rocks, and the crazy sun. Bad idea. The more I talked, the less oxygen I had. Soon I was gasping for breath while trying to bore one of the motoring journalists about the movie Big Fish which we both saw the night before the climb.

One of the climbers, obviously sensing my distress, asked what kind of preparation I did for the trek.

"Oh, you know… go to the gym and stuff to do some cardio…"

Liar.

The only preparation I did was buy two sandals that will match my nail polish. And the only physical preparation I actually exerted was to walk to the nearest spa and have myself a hard Swedish massage – "stretch my muscles more honey, I’m climbing up the mountain tomorrow."

Plus the fact that I actually just HAD to stay up late the night before the climb (we were leaving at 3 a.m.) didn’t help at all when I tried to find my comfort zone amidst the barren desert.

Early into the climb, I had my eyes set on this hunk whom I thought can help moi – damsel in distress – climb up the mountain for the first time. Plus I really believed the flirting would do me good.

At first it was ok. Hunky guy seemed willing to *eherm* give me a lift when I had to climb up a gadawful slippery rock. But I think I overdid it (although I have to admit I wasn’t really feigning to be having a hard time climbing), and soon hunky guy was waaaaay ahead of the pack. All I’m left with was his dust and a bewildered look on my face which says, "wheredhego?!"

Oh well, I guess climbing up the mountain is really a personal task. So I sucked my pout and proceeded to walk once more. I guess I was doing pretty well since I caught up with a senior journalist, who, by the way, is the dad of hunky guy. From that point on, senior journalist was to be my trek buddy. I thought that was actually a good thing since he’s been to Pinatubo for the two previous climbs.

However, about an hour of walking and talking, and putting stone markers so others won’t get lost, I found myself complaining once more on why I put myself through the torture.

"The trail seems harder now." Definitely not the thing I wanted to hear.

"Sir, the guide is on the other side of the river. And he’s waving at us."

"Oh. I think we took a wrong turn. We’re on the difficult path of the mountain."

"You’ve been putting markers so others can follow you. You just led them to their death!"

"Well let’s just hope that they won’t be able to see my markers"

Not see it! He made markers that glare like phallic symbols in a gay parade. But then again, misery loves company. So what the heck.

There were light moments, such as finding a huge rock that "talks" to the travelers like those with signs saying "5kms to go! You can do it!", then about 20 yards after another rock would say "Oh. 10km more, sorry, my mistake." Then there’s my favorite "rayuma ba?" (Rheumatism?) Which definitely cracked me up.

You’ll know you’re near the top when the sands give way to greener land, those dotted by clumps of grass. This also means the climb is getting steeper. But the thought that it’s gonna end soon is enough to pull you out from any excuse of further dawdling.

Soon, a camera was sticking to my face asking me how I find the climb. A ranger was also tugging at my i.d. so he could record how fast I was with the trek. Everything was definitely a blur, and I think I punched that ranger’s face but I’m not sure.

And there it was – my prize. A spectacular view of azure lake in the middle of a very wide (and terrifying) volcano crater. Two minutes of looking at it and I felt my cramps melt away. Maybe there IS something about mountain climbing after all.

"Why don’t you take a swim," senior reporter said.

"I could?"

"Sure, but it's another 500 meters down."

Without hesitating, I took off my shirt and my cargo pants (I had a bikini underneath – told yah I was ready), and began to make the extra journey.

My legs couldn’t take it! A guide had to hold my hand the whole time to keep me from sliding down.

Half way, I met hunky guy who’s gorgeous in his shorts and water-dripping bod.

"Heeeyy… I didn’t think you could make it. You surprised me." Gorgeous smile.

"Yeah. I surprised even myself (which was the truth)"

"Well you should take a dip in the lake, it’ll do you good. Tell me about it later"

And I did. Which was really great, although it was an unnerving thought that the lake was literally an abyss.

Anyway, the climb down was definitely easier that I finished in about an hour and a half as compared to the more than two-hour climb. We were treated to the perfect ending when we got down – an hour and half of massage at the Pinatubo Spa.

Oh by the way, I was one of the top ten to reach the summit. Not bad for a first time adventurer!

***

Techie was here...

View from the top 

Just trying the add photo tag. Thanks Milktea!

The thump of large rain on our roof was my first clear sign that another summer has just ended. I looked at my arm and noticed that my hard-earned golden tan is beginning to fade, and the chill in the air made me abandon the thought of wearing yet another tank top. I took out my sweatshirt and wore that.

For a few good minutes, I relived, with my eyes closed, all the significant things that happened in this distinctly hot summer. The past season seemed to sizzle with a bit more intensity. Fortunately (or unfortunately, whichever way I look at it), it was short-lived.

Six beaches, too many boys, and one hot summer fling after (a tryst I’m hoping to last ‘til the rainy season) – my more than two months love affair in the sun has brought me so many memories to last me a lifetime. Not bad for someone who just turned silver.

But its the realization that there’s just so many things to see that has truly made an impact on my mind. My travels, although done locally, has taught me so much – about culture, nature, and the diversity of people you label of same nationality as yours. This summer was also an opportunity for self-discovery. I found the adventurous side in me, and made me realize I could do more physical things than just go on a 10-hour mall marathon.

I also discovered that I’m a creature of the sea, always feeling at home where I can walk barefoot even on a very hot sand, where my hair is sticky from the sea air, and my lips lick salt when I taste them.

In this season of rain, I now share with you my summer…

Volcano conquest

The first part of my summer began with an invitation to go to Mt. Pinatubo – considered one of the most active volcanoes in the Philippines. The trek was part of Isuzu’s off-road experience, where we’ll be taking five luxury vehicles (the Isuzu Alterra) along a rugged terrain of volcanic sand, rocks, and rivers. It was very interesting – stuff we know great adventures were made of. It’s a unique experience to see five chic vehicles tough it out on a crazy terrain. There was, however one hitch – after the cars show their strength, it would be our turn to show ours in a 10km hike.

"Techie, have you ever gone mountain climbing?" my editor asked me one day.

"Uh, no ma’am." said I, fully-decked in minis and a colorful top I purchased just the other day.

She looked at my Parisian-inspired black flats (designed with a sleek leopard in one shoe, and a fashionista girl walking her poodle on the other), then stared at me and said "you’ll do, but first show me what shoes you plan to wear."

The next day, I went to the mall and bought myself two pairs of trekking sandals (Lumberjack boots were out of the question). Why two you say? I just had to buy the mountain thongs – those camouflage prints will definitely look good on my olive-painted toe nails. I showed the pair to my editor and she said, "you don’t have to go up the mountain you know, you could just stay at base camp and wait for the others to return."

The worry in her voice was obvious, but I wasn’t just about to stand there and admit I’m not fit to be included in them adventurous ones. So I just smiled and told her, "I just might ma’am, I may not look it but I am pretty physical back in college."

Liar.

"Well if you say so…"

On the first day of my coverage, I found people around me discreetly saying its alright not to go up the mountain, and that the climb might actually bring about a series of conditions – asthma caused by the ash, cramps from crossing wet and dry land, heat stroke, dehydration, etc., etc.

I found out later my editor actually called up the organizers and some of her closest motoring friends and said, "Don’t let my girl up the mountain! She might not make it!" A total boost of confidence on my physical capabilities.

Of course I wasn’t about to back out now. I just had to prove myself. Plus, I just bought two sandals for the trip. OK, just one, but the lovely prints, hello!

And so on the day we were to go up Pinatubo, I woke up extra early to ‘prepare’ myself for the climb. I wasn’t about to whine about our climbing attire – cargo pants, long-sleeved cotton shirt, and ranger cap – a wardrobe-conscious’ nightmare. But hey, I’m no mountaineer so I guess the organizers knew what they were doing when they gave out the clothes.

The Alterras were amazing. They were like Angelina Jolie doing a Lara Croft – sleek and beautiful, but tough and daring at the same time. The vehicles didn’t even flinched when we had to cross waist-deep rivers and vicious boulders going to camp.

The surrounding was also a sight to behold – beautiful and terrifying at the same time. ‘Mountains’ of gray ash hugged the enclaves of the gray valley we had to pass going to the foot of the mountain, and could make one feel as though he is on the set of that 80’s (or was it 90’s?) movie, the Never ending story. There was no sign of life at all.

A few kilometers into the valley, we finally saw some native aetas who were the survivors when Mt. Pinatubo erupted in 1991. I believe they were as curious about us as were of them: We, strange people in uniforms riding on big shiny vehicles, invading their quiet wasteland, and them with their outrageously curly hair and very friendly goats. We went down for a while to make some kind of communication. It didn’t work. We did however, understood the concept of cameras, and they gamely posed with us when we asked them to say ‘cheese!"

At the base camp, I was desperately looking for a clean toilet when one of the guides said, "you have the whole mountain as your toilet ma’am, but please, try to keep the waste down."

He’s kidding right?

Anyway, my search for the little lady’s room was short-lived by the magnificent sight of the gray mountain. A narrow path just ahead of camp, separated by a lively brook, opened the gates to a new adventure. Mt. Pinatubo just opened its arms, and dared me to conquer its beauty.

Gulp.

(to be continued…)

“Wow Techie, you’ve got really good skin right now.”

“Really? Hmmm I haven’t noticed. Maybe it’s this soap I’m using.”

“Nah… I’ve seen this glow before”

“O yeah, where?”

Smiling widely, “You’ve been getting some are you?! In fact, lots of it!”

Dumbfounded here.

Sheesh