<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" standalone="no"?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><rss xmlns:itunes="http://www.itunes.com/dtds/podcast-1.0.dtd" version="2.0"><channel><title>The Navigator - a traveler in my own mind</title><description></description><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Navigator)</managingEditor><pubDate>Fri, 4 Oct 2024 20:56:07 -0700</pubDate><generator>Blogger http://www.blogger.com</generator><openSearch:totalResults xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/">9</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/">1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/">25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><link>http://navigatingthrough.blogspot.com/</link><language>en-us</language><itunes:explicit>no</itunes:explicit><itunes:subtitle/><itunes:owner><itunes:email>noreply@blogger.com</itunes:email></itunes:owner><item><title>Climbing mountains, Unearthing dreams</title><link>http://navigatingthrough.blogspot.com/2006/02/climbing-mountains-unearthing-dreams.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Navigator)</author><pubDate>Tue, 14 Feb 2006 23:54:00 -0800</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13299216.post-113999009265226351</guid><description>Have you ever found yourself in a situation where your mind was telling your body to do a sport or a hobby that you've always loved to do and that you knew you could do, but then you hear your body suddenly talking back, "Are you crazy?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds familiar? Is it because maybe:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(a) domesticity has taken over your life? or;&lt;br /&gt;(b) you are stuck at a desk job? or;&lt;br /&gt;(c) you are a couch potato?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a mother and having a job that allows me to work from home, it is (d) all of the above unfortunately for me, and it's that lethal mix of inactivity that did me in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My love for hiking and exploring the outdoors from my younger days was for years put on hold; the leather of my trusty old pair of trekking shoes had long gone brittle. So when an opportunity came for me to volunteer to carry donations to a remote barrio in the Cordilleras, I giddily signed up right away, counting on the one full month I still had to condition my body. No big deal, I thought. Volunteers would only have to bring a couple tiny school bags over a four-hour hike that even beginners were invited. No sweat. And HEY, to visit the Cordilleras, I would never pass up an opportunity like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Within the week that followed, though, the realization that I was in far worse shape than I thought painfully set in. I would wheeze halfway up the steps to the Quezon Avenue MRT station. Even just picking up clutter from the floor would leave me breathless and dizzy. P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C. Those were enough signs for me to back out of the mission and settle to just make a donation instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was really bewildered because I used to be able to join casual climbs and hikes on short notice. But I left out a very important detail apparently - that was YEARSSS ago. Family and work have since been my priorities, not noticing the unwitting casualties along the way: my calf muscles for one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day I withdrew from the Cordillera mission was a turning point for me. The first thing I did was I pulled up a photo that my nephew sent me years earlier and made it my desktop's wallpaper. It was a picture of my nephew bathed in a golden hue, behind him a backdrop of endless cottony clouds. It was sunrise at the peak of Mt. Pulag - the second highest mountain in the Philippines.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/PulagAdventures076Small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/PulagAdventures076Small.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;When I got that photo the first time, I just had a passing thought, "Someday I'll go there," but it was more of a wishful thinking considering I had a multitude of things to take care of back here on Earth! But staring at that photo again, I made a pact to myself that a year will not pass without me setting foot on that same spot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From then on, I faithfully set aside time for exercise. Since my muscles were so wasted to such an extent that I couldn't join a gym class without embarrassing and possibly injuring myself, I decided to do beginner's yoga first at home which I coupled with jogging. At the same time, I also surfed for mountaineering clubs on the Web that I could join. Yep. I. Was. Determined. And I intended to bring my family along for the ride. It was a good three months before I was able to build up enough strength and confidence to do a minor climb (Mt. Daguldul), and it was also around that time that my family joined Sikap Bundok and underwent the Basic Trekker Course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/dimpleSmall.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/dimpleSmall.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't long after that that I found myself hanging on for dear life out of a six-story building doing a crazy stunt people refer to as rappeling. In contrast to my sorry state just months earlier, this time it was my mind hollering out, "Are you crazy?!" much to my body's amusement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since then, through Sikap Bundok as well as independent efforts, I have done things that just a few months back I wasn't certain whether I could ever do again, and things that I never knew I would ever be doing at all, period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/Daguldul051Small.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/batulao055Small.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/EdetRiver146Small.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In only a matter of months, I have climbed Mt. Dagulgul, Mt. Batulao, partially climbed Mt. Pulag (our first attempt was foiled by bad weather), have gone parasailing and whitewater rafting (which were firsts for me!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/Daguldul051Small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/Daguldul051Small.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/batulao055Small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/batulao055Small.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/EdetRiver146Small.jpg" border="0" /&gt;But the biggest surprise of all, especially to myself, was that I reached the peak of Mt. Kinabalu, the highest mountain in Southeast Asia! Yeah, you read that right - HIGHEST. IN. SOUTH. EAST. ASIA. And to think I only dreamed of nailing Mt. Pulag! And the year is not even over yet =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/FKinabaluSummitclimb047Small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/FKinabaluSummitclimb047Small.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;It's amazing what you can do for as long as you follow through on what you've set your heart out on. There comes a time in one's life when one settles into a comfort zone, which in my case I had very comfortably settled into, but wherein I lost a part of myself in the process. I've learned that you only need to stop for a moment to rediscover your old dreams. If there's something that you've been wanting to do that you've just been putting off, it's about time that you make it happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Revive an old hobby. Learn something new. It only takes a decision to go do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And like a bright-eyed child, I will be looking forward to the future that holds more mountains and more "firsts" for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------&lt;br /&gt;Basking in the warm glow lent by the rising Kinabalu sun, perched atop a granite slab against a sea of rich cumulus clouds in the Bornean sky, the girl's smiling eyes are looking back at mine from my desktop, still promising me she'll be back for that sunrise at Mt. Pulag. &lt;a href="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/FKinabaluSummitclimb015Small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/FKinabaluSummitclimb015Small.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------- &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" height="72" url="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/blog%20climb%20article/th_PulagAdventures076Small.jpg" width="72"/><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Celebrating us</title><link>http://navigatingthrough.blogspot.com/2006/02/celebrating-us.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Navigator)</author><pubDate>Mon, 13 Feb 2006 19:18:00 -0800</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13299216.post-113989390123809964</guid><description>Don't surprise me with a dinner at Vivere Skyline or Via Mare with that fantastic view of the city lights.  In fact, don't bother impressing me with the finest dining experience on this special day.  Don't bring me to that hottest Valentine dinner concert.  Don't take me on that sunset cruise.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, let me whisk you off to an empty rice field where we can lay by a lone mango tree beneath the endless starry expanse of the night sky.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or to a rocky beach by the side of the highway where no one cares to stop by and we will just listen to the crashing waves and gaze at the moon's reflection over the water's horizon.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me lead you into the woods where we'll find a clearing and hear the rustling leaves of the trees around us.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me take you away to a mountaintop and let the breeze sing us her lullaby... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the perfect gift you can give me on this day that we celebrate us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title/><link>http://navigatingthrough.blogspot.com/2005/07/blog-post.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Navigator)</author><pubDate>Wed, 20 Jul 2005 03:12:00 -0700</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13299216.post-112185449061115360</guid><description>&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0; width: 400px;" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/gardenview4.jpg" border="0"&gt;</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>MY FIRST VIDEO!!!  YAAY!</title><link>http://navigatingthrough.blogspot.com/2005/07/my-first-video-yaay.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Navigator)</author><pubDate>Tue, 19 Jul 2005 02:36:00 -0700</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13299216.post-112176821172058632</guid><description>&lt;a href="http://ia108609.us.archive.org/2/items/dogdemonstration/summer05011.avi"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/fatmishka.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.zippyvideos.com/6320244732250256/summer05_015/*gravymishka"&gt;&lt;Click here to watch video&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just a very short clip. I wanted to make sure it worked first before uploading a longer video.</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>A Reluctant Cheerleader</title><link>http://navigatingthrough.blogspot.com/2005/07/reluctant-cheerleader.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Navigator)</author><pubDate>Sat, 16 Jul 2005 11:11:00 -0700</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13299216.post-112154171321685276</guid><description>&lt;img style="float:left; margin:25px 15px 20px 0; width: 65px" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/lampstrimmed.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#899198;"&gt;insomnia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been having trouble sleeping since yesterday. Tonight, just past midnight, I got up, fixed myself a cup of hot soup and toasted bread to try to finally get me to sleep. Then I sat down, sleep still not coming, and then out of nowhere, it hit me. I'm probably starting to miss my friend, and I didn't even know it, until now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#899198;"&gt;good news but...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday she finally got the results of her Australian Dental Boards exam, and she passed two-thirds and only had to take a supplemental exam by year-end. It's the climax of a two-year journey towards passing the Aussie boards. I've been rooting for her all the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up until just an hour ago, I've been thinking it's still a year away before she leaves. Then it struck me -- hard -- it's &lt;strong&gt;ONLY&lt;/strong&gt; a year away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this time, I've always thought how cool it would be to be able to visit her in Australia, plus the perk of having a place to stay! HAH! Now it just dawned on me how things will never be the same again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#899198;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;flashback&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can say that one way or the other, we've been witnesses to each other's lives. I'm not sure, but I think our friendship started during the most critical phase of my college life, trying to balance those stubborn, damned dentures haha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, anyway, we were also roommates while preparing for the dental boards. Ah, brings back memories: looking out the window (we were on the top floor) salivating over the hip, newly-opened Burger King joint (back then), enjoying fireworks, listening to The Corrs and the Indigo Girls, getting a second chance at life every time we survived another rickety elevator ride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't get to take the boards with her that December, though, due to a ridiculous university policy. I took it in May the following year, and thus setting a pattern of me following her lead, making her somewhat of a mentor in my immediate post-graduate life. She signed up for the OPD-PGH oral surgery externship after passing the boards; heck, I signed up also. She got an abstracting job at Adis; I asked her to get me in too. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#899198;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;If not for the Adis stint, I probably wouldn't have stumbled upon my line of work right now, and I'm forever indebted to her for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#899198;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#899198;"&gt;concerts &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was able to drag her to an early Paolo Santos show, back in those days when a mid-week, 30-minute night slot was all Paolo had that proved of his existence. His "Mr. Acoustic" wasn't a household name yet then, and his featured guest was a group of blind rondalla players (now how's that for coolness?).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over dinner before the show, I remember my friend getting anxious as to what I was getting ourselves into. I was getting embarrassed myself with what I thought was a poor choice for a girl's night-out. But as everyone now knows, Paolo Santos is Paolo Santos. The show was fantastic, and we followed him into mainstream like groupies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we were a group date * wink wink* at the Michael Buble concert. But, well, that's another story...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#899198;"&gt;et cetera&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then even my unica hija Gravy, a bassethound, came from her Shitzu's first litter. She named her bassethound Shitzu. Go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We never got to go to &lt;a href="http://www.bernardbilledo.com/sagada.html"&gt;Sagada&lt;/a&gt;. We've been planning on that since college. Maybe in a couple years or so, she'll be coming back like one of those balikbayans who will tour the Philippines in a span of a month's visit. I'll make sure we'll nail that Sagada then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#899198;"&gt;reluctant cheerleader&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know cheering for her throughout the remainder of her quest will extract emotions from opposite poles of my being. It will both be joyful and painful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="float:left;" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y93/GravyMishka/tiananmen.jpg" width="300"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#899198;"&gt;to my friend...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My alcohol, caffeine and nicotine buddy, OktoberFest companion, my once-upon-a-time badminton pal, my friend. She's surely going to be missed....</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>The Million Peso Challenge</title><link>http://navigatingthrough.blogspot.com/2005/06/1-million-peso-challenge.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Navigator)</author><pubDate>Thu, 30 Jun 2005 23:36:00 -0700</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13299216.post-112020258340335966</guid><description>This blog started out as a usual blog where I can write anything I want, with no theme, just a medium where I can express myself, the original title being "The Navigator - a traveler in my own mind." In short, mga walang katuturan. Now I'm putting an objective to it, and a very practical one at that:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;I AM GOING TO START SAVING AND SAVING AND SAVING...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This isn't the first time I attempted this. And you may have guessed when it first entered my mind: Yup, when I hit the BIG three-oh. But ever since, it's all just been inside my head. And the problem with that is it gets pushed back further into the abyss every time a mall sale (or a cute pooch) comes around...hmmm. Time to rethink my strategy. Maybe posting it on my blog will help me keep track of this goal better. Well, we'll see...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4913/1163/1600/mishka%20sideview.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 5px 5px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4913/1163/320/mishka%20sideview.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You want to buy my bully? LOL&lt;br /&gt;Just kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And nope, I didn't just come across &lt;a href="http://www.richdad.com/rich-dad-poor-dad-book.html"&gt;Rich Dad, Poor Dad&lt;/a&gt;, but I guess it's about time I put some of the principles into practice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;--- &lt;em&gt;After two weeks, I changed the title back to the original. But I won't be losing sight of this goal. I just want some space.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total></item><item><title>On immigration</title><link>http://navigatingthrough.blogspot.com/2005/06/on-immigration.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Navigator)</author><pubDate>Sun, 12 Jun 2005 16:58:00 -0700</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13299216.post-111862330070576213</guid><description>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4913/1163/1600/room%200202.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4913/1163/200/room%20020.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up with a heavy feeling in my heart. I dreamt my family was finally going to Canada. But, well, wasn't that supposed to be a good thing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had plans of migrating with my family. I had signed up for the services of an immigration agency and had fully paid up their professional fee. I only had the remaining requirements to follow up, and we could have left years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first day I sat with the immigration agent I was raring to leave the next day, if that at all was possible. It was like I was feverishly chasing a dream.  But as months went by and we got closer and closer to realizing that dream, I held off. I suddenly felt this was for REAL. And it scared the hell out of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything that I have I felt was quickly slipping away: my parents, siblings, my nephews, nieces, my in-laws that have become my second family, friends, my dogs!, our Sunday afternoons at sunken garden, our get-togethers, our pangungulit sa isa't isa. Even our bickerings and misunderstandings I was ironically already beginning to miss as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4913/1163/1600/cotton1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4913/1163/320/cotton.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even the troubles of the Philippines that was a big chunk of my reasons for emmigrating started to seem to melt away, though just in my mind. This is a very beautiful country after all, but which unfortunately is still waiting to be given a break.  But as long as we're floating and haven't gone to the dogs yet (though sometimes it feels like we have), it's well worth giving it a chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Cold feet, you may say. Well, maybe...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course from the start I had been psyching myself up for the changes and sacrifices that immigration calls for. That's part of the whole idea. That's part of the excitement that had initially fuelled me to start this whole "project" and pull all the stops to make it come true. I'm going to have a new life! I'd be leaving everything behind and start all over! I should be ready for this when the time finally comes, but as it turned out, I was so not prepared to let go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;And so the "project" came to a screeching halt. I'm in a status quo. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From time to time, I test my decision by toying with the idea of going ahead with it, especially now that there are speculations of a regime change in July, and I'm glad a voice always comes back with a contented "no." But of course, there are the what-ifs that occasionally teases me. But being one that wholly accepts consequences of decisions made, I don't linger on those very long. But I admit there are uncertainties on that decision, and it's no denying that my family could have a better future there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The heavy feeling in my heart when I woke up somehow has echoed my sentiments of that initial loss that I'm so afraid to face. But feeling it as real as I have felt in that dream, I'm now hearing that voice again in me with a resounding &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;"NO."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;-- as an after thought, I just realized it's Independence Day. Ain't that a strange coincidence...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>shampoo</title><link>http://navigatingthrough.blogspot.com/2005/06/shampoo_111845150803243292.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Navigator)</author><pubDate>Fri, 10 Jun 2005 17:57:00 -0700</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13299216.post-111845150803243292</guid><description>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4913/1163/1600/room%20after%20new%20011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4913/1163/320/room%20after%20new%20011.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was laying on the couch with my head on my husband's lap last night, and he was giving me a scalp massage and gently running his fingers through my hair. It would have been very romantic had the setting not been that we were in front of the TV watching Sen. Miriam Santiago defend Tita Glo to high heavens on ANC last night (regarding the wiretapping controversy).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, anyway, in the midst of our intent viewing and obvious exasperation about the whole brouhaha, my husband blurted out, "Your hair is so soft!"  Now, isn't that music to the ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not wanting to lose the welcome change of mood, I said , "Oh, really?"  And suddenly I felt like Kristine Hermosa in one of her shampoo commercials.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to that, my loving husband of 15 years replied, "Maybe that's why we run out of shampoo so fast. You're probably using too much," zapping me straight back to reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, well. It was good while it lasted... =) Ah, married life!</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item><item><title>Here comes the rainy season... Isn't it bliss?</title><link>http://navigatingthrough.blogspot.com/2005/06/here-comes-rainy-season-isnt-it-bliss.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Navigator)</author><pubDate>Wed, 8 Jun 2005 19:17:00 -0700</pubDate><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13299216.post-111828353665977290</guid><description>It's June again, and it's that time of the year when you wake up to pouring rain signalling the start of classes, knee- to waist-high floods, and of course, endless traffic. Mostly, one's first waking breath in the morning would consist of four-letter profanities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4913/1163/1600/IMG_0563.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4913/1163/320/IMG_0563.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But not for this lady, huh-uh! It's a gorgeous day! After two months of unbearable sweltering temperatures reaching to the 100s, this is literally a spray of freshness after the summer's dry-as-a-bone drought. But don't get me wrong! I'm a self-professed beach bum and an outdoors sucker for each rare chance I get, but there's nothing more refreshing than a natural cool breeze laden with the scent of wet leaves and grass. I'm tempted to pick up my cam and capture the colors of nature that's never as alive than right after a rainshower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At last, I can open my big windows and my doors to let the skies and the trees decorate my home once again and let natural lighting stream through to lend its varying glows, illuminating my space. And, of course, the cool breeze... with the added bonus of a water spray!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The summer has left me paler ironically, for the heat had been very unforgiving that, in retrospect, it's almost like I sentenced myself to a two-month confinement in an enclosed, artificially ventilated space, with all shades drawn to keep the heat out. And never had I felt sooo deprived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4913/1163/1600/IMG_02842.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4913/1163/200/IMG_02841.JPG" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now there's a song playing in my head: "Hello, world!" from that defunct Discovery show, &lt;em&gt;Travellers&lt;/em&gt;. I can't wait, I hope for a strong downpour when my son gets home from school. We'll have a wonderful time in the rain.</description><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>