Monthly Archives: October 2007

Pink is the new purple

Remember how I lamented the fact that all my originally vari-colored mums had mysteriously turned purple? Well, I may have spoken too soon.

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These beauties greeted me yesterday, the first afternoon since I got back from my trip that I’ve been able to walk outside without fear of any physical activity imploding my lungs or my releasing some virus that’ll mutate and make itself the source of the next great pandemic out of an abnormal need for attention.

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Are they pink? Are they white? Are they pink-white? Will the yellow streaks feel neglected if I don’t mention them?

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Maybe they’re baby pink. Whatever color they are, they’re gorgeous. I couldn’t stop taking their picture. But maybe that’s partly because I’ve been cooped up inside too long.

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This beauty made me think of windswept hair. Did I mention I’ve been cooped up inside too long?

 

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I really, really love my new camera. Baby, I’m sorry I ever said I might trade you in for a better model.

 

Dreamy Sunday music

Because it’s Sunday. I’m tired of having the flu. It’s cold outside. I’m home alone. And I went and dug up my old Symphony Sessions CD because this post reminded me of it.

This music makes me think of long drives across upstate New York with my mom and my older brother. It’s music that makes me well up inside and imagine the sweeping vistas of an autumn northeast countryside that somehow conjure up equally sweeping waves of emotion inside me. It’s melancholy mixed with nostalgia mixed with the wonder of an uncertain future with a tinge of non-specific regret.

Whatever. I like it.

Gray days always make me homesick.

I hope you’re enjoying your Sunday too. And if you’re digging the music, please go and buy the album (it’s by David Foster). It may be 26 years old, but it’s as timeless as it gets.

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We Were So Close

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Water Fountain

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Time Passing

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Just Out Of Reach

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Conscience

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The Ballet

And, just to perk you up:

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Winter Games

Go on. Please buy the album. I mean, I’ve let you listen to 7 of the 10 tracks here. In full. Don’t you want to have this CD with you the next time you want to reminisce about autumn countryside drives? If you had an older brother who annoyed you to death, you can leave him out of the picture. I won’t tell.

The Craig Tanner trail

The Myth of Talent by Craig Tanner

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Head on over to Shrew’s site for a reprint of Craig Tanner’s powerful article “The Myth of Talent.” Then check out Craig’s photoblog and be prepared to be amazed by this man’s work.

Oh, and although Shrewie thanks me for forwarding the article to her, in reality, ultimately the credit goes to her. Here’s the sequence of events that led to the discovery of my newfound photographic desiderata:

> Ivoryhut checks out Shrew’s new digs
> clicks on link to Scott Kelby
> sees list of photoblog links on page 2 of Scott Kelby’s site
> clicks on Radiant Vista link
> checks out Daily Critique feature by someone named Craig
> explores Articles section and sees article by someone named Craig
> wonders if the two are the same person
> checks out comments for the article and reads Craig’s mention of Joseph Campbell
> is suddenly intrigued – “The Myth Of Talent” and “The Power of Myth” – any connection?
> downloads article and is blown away by what is written there
> checks out Craig’s photoblog
> almost falls off chair, not because of vertigo or my current illness, but because the little bits to which I was blown away are further pulverized when I see how amazing his photography is today
> blabs to whoever will listen about this great article found online that must be read by every person who ever dreamed of being an artist

Whew. Dizzy yet? I know I am.

Or maybe it’s the antibiotics talking.

Too much sun

sunrise at sea

Just got back from my Caribbean trip, and now I have to get used to seeing the extremely brown reflection of an Asian girl looking back at me from the mirror. The brown reflection also seems to be coughing a lot in a hoarse and unflattering hack of a voice. Must be punishment for having too much fun in the sun.

So for now, browniehut (alas, ivory would be a misrepresentation right now) will languish in bed dreaming up ways to trade in that scratchy throat and hollow chest. Meanwhile, when the meds kick in and put me in a deep sleep, I will be dreaming dreams of white sand, gorgeous sun and skyscapes, and waters so clear you can see right down to the sandy floor and fish-laden corals.

beach toys

 

about me

I write, cook, play music, and make pictures. Not necessarily in that order. I was born and raised in the Philippines, and it shows. That means I eat rice with every meal, love my cousins like my own siblings, and firmly believe that avocados are best eaten with cream and sugar.

If you want to learn more about me, here are 43 things I'd like to do. Here's a little something about my name, in case you were wondering. Here are some other places you'll find me:

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LOST AND FOUND

One summer night in 2010, our house burned to the ground and we lost everything we had. This is the story of what happened and how life and hope can always rise from ashes.



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