Wherever you are is where you should be

It seems that the universe has been communicating with me through the final pages of the books I read because I've been finding them the most appealing. And as someone without much of a life, I am more than inclined to share these last pages to you. My unknown you. For this book, this statement is the most meaningful (as in applicable to all, at any time):

As for what is in store for me, I have not the smallest notion and I glory in that state of not knowing. There is no better place to be. For the past does not exist. There is only the present. Only the eternal beautiful ever-unfolding now.

And true enough, the past does not exist and the future is only a dream. The Rude Awakenings of a Jane Austen addict is part two of Laura Viera Rigler's homage to every Janeite in the world. It will be hard to explain the concept of this book without mentioning its prequel, Confessions of a Jane Austen addict---in which 21st century California girl Courtney Stone discovers herself in the 18th century, living the life of one Jane Mansfield. Basically, the two books are a role reversal of sorts where two Jane Austen addicts find themselves living each other's lives. In Confessions, Courtney Stone was able to get a taste (and to be so bold, the smell) of England during Jane Austen's time, where dances are a big production, daily baths are unheard of, women stay in bed during their period, and family names are so easy to tarnish (just go to a park alone, if you're a girl). Oh, to live in the world of Miss Austen, in the fictional country lives of Elizabeth, Elinor, Emma, and Marianne. I have dreamt of it, often reveled on the thought of it, and wished I had the chance to live it. It is and will always be a true Janeite's dream and if you're a Janeite like me, you'd know what I'm talking about. We all wished (or still wish) for a chance to dance with Mr. Darcy (okay, maybe Mr. Willoughby for the masochists).

To be honest, I liked Confessions a bit more than this second book but since my copy of Confessions is still sitting in the suburbs of Illinois, waiting to be shipped out, I'll have to write about the second book first. What a very awkward sentence. Y/Y? Despite the alternate universe-y plot, the unexplainable switches (but of course, it is called "fiction" for a reason), and the concussions, the books are very entertaining if only for the confusion of our heroines.

As expected, Courtney Stone had an easier time adapting and settling into 18th century England, where chivalry wasn't dead and Bath was in its prime. She, after all, knew what to expect during that time. All thanks to history classes and her Austen fascination. Jane Mansfield didn't have a clue on what modern life is like and so it was very unnerving for her to find herself living in independent, individualistic America. In Rude Awakenings, Jane Mansfield finds herself in Courtney Stone's world, where people work for what they have (because stature is not determined by birth or rank), there are no servants to wait on her hand and foot, women sleep with men without the blessing of marriage, tampons are used (!!!) and long white gowns are only worn if you're a bride. Jane Mansfield is instantly thrown into a modern world she never knew existed that her insights and comparisons are often funny, amusing and very cringe-worthy. She was raised in regency England, when Jane Austen was still alive and has published only two of her future six books. Imagine Jane Mansfield's delight when she found out she can watch all of Miss Austen's works in a device called DVD, with music, moving pictures and kissing. I think I was a bit thrilled for her myself.

Rude Awakenings basically ties up the loose ends left in the first book, so I think it's best if you go ahead and purchase both. They're both light and easy reads, although I got the feeling that if you're not a big Austen fan, you won't really get most of the allusions in both books. Will this book be enjoyable if one has not read any Austen novel? Yes, it will still be but expect a lot of quotes from Austen novels like Persuasion, Emma and Northanger Abbey and a lot of 18th-century England references from our heroine(s). If you aren't a big Austen fan, reading this book might give you the urge to pick-up a copy of P&P (or all six of Jane Austen's novels, trust me it'll be better that way).

This was a good weekend read. Oh and if there is something I picked up out of reading these books, it is this: Wherever you are is where you should be. Don't fight it. Soon, all things will fall into place (or you know, any variation of my favorite "This too shall pass") ;)

We are indestructible but we are all going

"He was gone, and I did not have time to tell him what I had just now realized: that I forgave him, and that she forgave us, and that we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right, things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the future. If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can’t know better until knowing better is useless"

John Green's Looking for Alaska moved me in the most unexpected way. I didn't feel strongly for the book in, say, the first half where I felt like I was simply reading about a bunch of gifted kids and their issues. I'll be quick to acknowledge that it is a fantastic book, yes, and that the characters were so well-explained, their quirks became very fascinating. But I thought it won't really be my book. I've had so many good reads in my reading life and some books end up just like that. Another good read. Very little books mean so much to me, I didn't realize Looking for Alaska will be one of them.

Things took a turn when I started reading the "after". I don't know how long it took me to finish reading but I did remember going over and over every page, trying my hardest to disconnect myself from the story. I couldn't. It spoke to me because I was also ridden with guilt, racked by what I should've done and what I didn't do. I'm nowhere near Alaska's self-destruction but like her, I don't speak of my pains or my regrets. Because when the person you could've saved is already dead, who is left to atone you? It isn't a secret that I'm still reeling from a death in my family but it's also a sort of open secret that I forced myself to carry on without much thought. I chose (and I still do) to get of the labyrinth of suffering the same way Alaska Young wanted to. Straight and fast. I thought building a wall between myself and my feelings and inevitably going after the next step made everything easier. I didn't leave any room for thinking, regret or blame. Unlike Pudge and the Colonel, I didn't want to look into the reason why my dad was POOF, gone. Because he already was and I know that what I will know about his last moments, his thoughts, his feelings will only hurt me more. I didn't want any pain. All I wanted was to get of the labyrinth. Straight and fast.

I can say many things about this book to explain just how poignant it is for people like me but this book will most likely be loved by anyone who reads it. Whether out of motivation from suddenly remembering that we are all going, the many Famous Last Words or the quintessential search for the Great Perhaps, I just know this book will be well-loved. I have faith in that. But in a nutshell, it was Pudge's final paper for Dr. Hyde's class that got me the most. And even though Pudge was writing about Alaska, I felt it was a letter from the universe, addressing questions I had but was too afraid to ask. This book was a godsend and I cannot be anymore pleased that I read it at the right time, this time.

" When she fucked up, all those years ago, just a little girl terrified into paralysis, she collapsed into the enigma of herself. And I could have done that, but I saw where it led for her. So I still believe in the Great Perhaps, and I can believe in it in spite of having lost her.

Because I will forget her, yes. That which came together will fall apart imperceptibly slowly, and I will forget, but she will forgive my forgetting, just as I forgive her for forgetting me and the Colonel and everyone but herself and her mom in those last moments she spent as a person. I know now that she forgives me for being dumb and scared and doing the dumb and scared thing. I know she forgives me, just as her mother forgives her. And here's how I know:

I thought at first that she was just dead. Just darkness. Just a body being eaten by bugs. I thought about her a lot like that, as something's meal. What was her--green eyes, half a smirk, the soft curves of her legs--would soon be nothing, just the bones I never saw. I thought about the slow process of becoming bone and then fossil and then coal, that will, in millions of years, be mined by humans of the future, and how they would heat their homes with her, and then she would be smoke billowing out of a smokestack, coating the atmosphere. I will think that, sometimes, think that maybe "the afterlife" is just something we made up to ease the pain of loss, to make our time in the labyrinth bearable. Maybe she was just matter and matter gets recycled.

But ultimately I do not believe that she was only matter. The rest of her must be recycled, too. I believe now that we are greater than the sum of our parts. If you take Alaska's genetic code and you add her life experiences and the relationships she had with people, and then you take the size and shape of her body, you do not get her. There is something else, entirely. There is a part of her greater than the sum of her knowable parts. And that part has to go somewhere because it cannot be destroyed.

Although no one will ever accuse me of being much of a science student, one thing I learned from science classes is that energy is never created and never destroyed. And if Alaska took her own life, that is the hope I wish I could have given her. Forgetting her mother, failing her mother and her friends and herself--those are awful things, but she did not need to fold into herself--those are awful things, but she did not need to fold into herself and self-destruct. Those awful things are survivable, because we are indestructible as we believe ourselves to be. When adults say, "Teenagers think they are invincible" with that sly, stupid smile on their faces, they don't know how right they are. We need never be hopeless, because we can never be irreparably broken. We think that we are invincible because we are. We cannot be born, and we cannot die. Like all energy, we can only change shapes and sizes and manifestations. They forget that when they get old. They get scared of losing and failing. But that part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail.

So I know she forgives me, just as I forgive her. Thomas Edison's last words were: "It's very beautiful over there." I don't know where there is, but I believe it's somewhere and I hope it's beautiful. "

I may not get out of the labyrinth soon but in bringing me atonement, giving me back the hope I once had and reminding me that I am still indestructible beyond my belief, this book has already helped me get halfway through. It brought me a few steps further into closure, this story that I felt was written after my heart. Definitely, most definitely, this book is one of mine.

Hello, father. It was like reading a note from you. I hope it's beautiful out there.

Fresh Meat

Homestead steakhouse. Arguably, the best (and oldest) steakhouse in Manhattan. New York, 2010

Mmm, maybe I should do a Manhattan photo dump? Y/Y?

The Lady is a Tramp

Liaisons with Lady Liberty, New York 2010

French Milk

French Milk is, in a nutshell, an illustrated journal about Lucy Knisley's five-week trip to the city of Paris. Reading it was like reading a friend's travel diary, in which she writes about the world based on what she sees, eats and feels. No BS, just the way she sees it. Standing at the crossroads of adulthood (the pressure of getting a job after graduation is weighing upon her) and the comfort of childhood (she is traveling with her mom, and that makes things a lot easier), Lucy's mood changes from happy to reflective to just plain grumpy in between bites of foie gras and visits to museums. It is a book filled with eats, book-buying (!), art, life questions, wine and little observations about la vie Parisienne. I like the book for its clarity. The writing is just so confident and unafraid to show personal vulnerability. I guess that's why this book is easy to like, it doesn't come off as snooty. In fact, it is totally enjoyable because of its simplicity. It doesn't have heavy learnings, just a lot of pretty pages. Very honest, light and in the moment, French Milk is the kind of book you read half out of envy, half out of having a story you can completely relate to. Cheers to Lucy Knisley for such a wonderful book.

I included scans of my favorite pages (you can click to enlarge). I found my copy of French Milk by chance, at a used bookstore for 145 pesos. I'm not sure if local bookstores carry copies of this wonderful comic book but if they do, get one. It's fantastic. :)

Although most of the pages have single panel sketches with a lot of detail, some pages had pictures from their trip. It came out beautifully (so beautiful that I'm a bit vexed about my inability to draw even the easiest lines and circles):

The apartment they rented (L) and its floor plan (plus food plan?) (R)

This one is a bit cheeky and cute... (may induce chocolate cravings too)

New Year's 2007:

This drawing about their trip to the Museum of Versailles made me laugh,

Lucy exploring Paris...

I think the literatis (Anais Nin, Ernest Hemingway, Oscar Wilde etc.) and their love affair with Paris makes the city all the more magical. This relationship is echoed in many travel diaries and Lucy's was not an exemption. The following set is my very favorite. It's about Lucy's 22nd birthday and how she spent it going to the grave of Oscar Wilde, leaving him a kiss in his tomb (just like hundreds of other visitors before her) and having drinks at the bar where Wilde had his last drink (before he killed himself in a hotel room upstairs). It's a fantastic way to celebrate a birthday, I must say.

Long weekends are for lounging around in your pyjamas

I believe long weekends are for mixing work and play so I snatched up a couple of very cheap books (To add to my book queue! I guess I can go ahead and read French Milk since it has very little text) and FP's special war issue (If there is a topic I really need to read up on, security studies would be it) just so I can have a productive¹ weekend. Balance is the key since next week will be a lot tricky. Decisions, decisions. Anyho, cheerio! A happy weekend to all. :)

__________________________________

¹Productive differs from person to person. My definition of a productive weekend includes reading my books, fangirl flailing over the charmer that is John Lloyd Cruz, and hearing tidbits of gossip on local tv. Sometimes I do these one at a time, but there are weekends when I like to do them simultaneously. Yes, my zest for life is somewhat deceiving and kind of sad. Oh, such is the life. Hey, at least I make up for it through extensive reading. Heh. :D

Ça va? Ça va.

I tried to write something encouraging about this book but I cannot write something good. Maybe it's due to my lack of sleep, I've been fangirling as of late and the disparity between Western European time zones and GMT + 8:00 Asia has taken a toll on my brain cells. I like this book, I really do, but I cannot point out something poignant from my reading. I like it because I will always be infinitely jealous of girls who get to pursue art degrees in Western Europe without their parent's consternation. I like it because I want a French L'Amour of my own. I like it because Paris is a magnificent city everybody dreams about. I like it because the author gets to live every girl's dream. I like it because it's about these simple things, tied together with food, great company and a lot of learnings. I think it's better if I make a list of what I like and what I don't like about this book, just so you can get a gist (With my writing skills, there is no room for serious book reviewing here. Just what I hope is the very forgivable superficial stuff!).

What I like about this book:

• I like the description of Gwendal because his hazel green eyes, wavy brown hair and Brittany hometown reminds me of my favorite Frenchman. In my head, I pictured myself as Elizabeth Bard (WHAT IS SHAMELESS?) and he became Yoann Gourcuff. This mental picture made the book all the more enjoyable for me. It enabled me to relate to the author without any rationale because that's what gorgeous Frenchmen do, they take out every iota of intelligence in you. I was all "Go, Fight, Win! Move to France" in the first few pages, whereas if Gwendal formed a different image in my head, I would probably scoff at the idea of a girl throwing New York City away for uncertainty in Paris. By virtue of physical superiority, France wins. Again.
• While Elizabeth Bard didn't have misadventures of the unfortunate kind, much of her misery came from issues shaped by the society she grew up in. She was raised in a society that thrives on competition, where people are constantly molded and measured by success--think high-paying jobs, awards and recognition. That is not the case in France, where culture and personal satisfaction comes first. While I was reading the book, I am instantly reminded of myself, my fears, my expectations and that little place in the sun I am forever running after. It goes to show that everybody, wherever they may be, is chasing after one thing: happiness. This book made me realize that it is our expectations--the standards we set for ourselves--that fail us the most, not the world or any of the curveballs it throws our way. I also like the way I get to see the difference between the French way of living and the American dream. She can come off as whiny and disintegrated at times but one cannot help but sympathize. I have come to share her frustrations with the French system by the end of the book, and this is something I find refreshing because a memoir set in a city as beautiful as Paris often leaves the author little time to see faults and say, "C'est vrai la merde". This book gives us a glimpse of the real Paris, with its pessimism and its taste for a collective "non!" against anything and everything. Even the most magnificent of cities deal with social differences everyday. As an expatriate, one can either challenge it and fight a losing battle or learn how things work in that country and play their game. We will always have to confront our demons, whether we're teetering on cobblestone streets or sashaying through the asphalt pavement of the Lower East Side. We can never really run away.
• The small secrets of the French lifestyle. This book explains why French women never really get fat (Okay, let me spoil it for you: they hardly ever eat but drink enormous amounts of water. And based on this book, being heavy is just socially unacceptable in France *gulp*). Other truths answered in this book: why French people are hardly ever sociable, how tricky the French legal system is and how come money, religion & politics are not as important in France as it is in the United States. Note to self: Maybe it's better to live my late twenties in a friendlier city like Madrid or Barcelona, and just visit Paris on weekends. ;)
• The food. I always get excited about memoirs because of the family heirloom recipes. This book just drives home the point that relationships are strengthened over good food of any kind, from ramekins of dirty dark chocolate souffle to fish baked under a mountain of sea salt, south of France style. :) Most of the recipes are fairly easy to replicate too so that's a big plus.

What I did not like:

• Some parts of the book took a very passive-aggressive tone that left me confused. I guess it is quite alright to categorize the author's love affair with her countries as somewhat love-hate?
• Also, the fact that most stores carry thirty-sixes and not a lot of higher numbers. That is sample size 2, ten sizes away from the average American woman.
• Rabbit as a main course because I have a soft spot for bunnies (I used to keep them as pets until I grew up and started loving life forms a little less) but I can hardly blame anybody since this form of animal slaughter is prevalent in France. :|

Other things I like (that are in this book): The quote "I fight the small battles because I cannot win the big ones" which is what I do, most of the time--when I am lonely for my dead father and is scared shitless of the future, chocolate souffles, David Lynch, thick hot chocolate, flaky croissants, butchers that look like Matt Dillon, ladies who lunch, men who cook great meals (even on an electric hot plate), French words that roll off my tongue, no nonsense French loving, art, the decadence of Parisian architecture, daily market trips, fresh seafood and fruits on said market trips, cultural integration of the secular French and Jewish New Yorkers, bone marrow that is heaven spread on top of a baguette, juicy pave au poivre on a first date, choquettes, cream puff towers for wedding cakes, Frenchmen who know what they want and people who are so fucking happy all the time.

Francophiles, go ahead. It's beautiful way to spend the rest of your day.

There Is Nothing Like A Dame

Life is a big game of disappointment management, we all know that. I know I'm allowed to lose my faith in humanity (or family) once in a while but I will live. I can find ways to keep myself happy like plotting world domination or opening a box full of my favorite things. You know, the simple stuff. Speaking of, my boxes from Seattle are finally here. I know I helped in packing it and all but opening it was like Christmas in September! :) In it came the remainder of my shoes, clothes and some stuff for the rest of my family. My playbills, maps, restaurant postcards and other paper memorabilia were in the box, too. It feels so long ago but hey I had a grand time and that's what matters. :)

Girls of all ages swoon at the sight of Angel Corella in ABT's Romeo and Juliet but I have to say that South Pacific was my favorite. I don't care if that makes me sound uncultured. I really enjoy theater more than ballet, plus we had excellent seats. Excellent enough for wonderful thespians to look you in the eye as they sing in chest-baring nautical outfits. Heh. I also love the songs. It's a shame Matthew Morrisson blew up before I got the chance to watch him play Lt. Cable :">

Also, who wouldn't be happy with books that were practically for free? This should cover the rest of the year or the whole month of September, at the very least. I will arrange them soon and then I will make a list so that I can finally have a decent collection of books. From now on, I'm going to get them back whenever they are borrowed. Like A Boss an adult.

The two towers. I took home a lot of Sinatra coffee table books, European travel guides (for future reference :D), memoirs of political leaders, books I once had but were borrowed and books I've been meaning to read but was too stingy to purchase (mostly chick-lit and overhyped books/authors). :) For a little over $100, it's not bad. :D

Augh. I just feel so blah today. I'm going to cheer myself up by arranging my shelf. I'll leave you with this. It's an amazing medley. Watch out for There Is Nothing Like A Dame. Total Lonely Hearts song:

There are no booooooks like a daaaaaaame.... :D

Octopus Crossing

I've always been fascinated by marine animals ever since I can remember. I get more excitement out of visiting aquariums than theme parks (Although, SeaWorld totally blurs the line between the two and I really love SeaWorld!) because I just love the genteel tranquility I feel whenever I'm in them. Aquariums also remind me of my father, so my love for marine life must be for reasons more sentimental than they are scientific. I just feel so happy and so relaxed even if there are times when claustrophobia kicks in and I get slightly terrifying visions of flood and breaking glass.

My favorite marine animal is the octopus, hands down. I love that they are known for their intelligence, escapist tendencies, deceiving defense mechanism and sometimes, their ability to predict the future of gorgeous millionaires like Iker Casillas. Sadly, most octopods don't live very long. They stay in the earthly seas for ten months at most and then go on to live the remainder of their fabulosity in the spirit world. It is this lifespan and their ability to escape aquariums that make them elusive features in marine sanctuaries. I went to two sites in San Francisco but I wasn't able to see any, only coral reefs made after Philippine seas. :( The good news is that I was able to find a North Pacific Giant Octopus in Seattle, right after Spain won the World Cup. Talk about victory! Hehe. :D

This particular octopus lives in two aquariums connected by a tube. It squeezes itself out of one aquarium and crosses the tube to the other. Most visitors coax the octopus to move to the other side but since it behaves LIKE A BOSS, all they can really do is wait with hope. Hahaha. It didn't happen when I was there though.

This is the clearest picture I have because the octopus moved so fast and I didn't want to block anybody's view. Check out that stare (more like sneer)! Like. A. Boss.

While squid and cuttlefish have tentacles, an octopus has "arms". I keep on calling it tentacles though. Force of habit. :( Look at its underside! I've observed that the suction caps (the white round ones) rotate as the octopus moves. I really find their locomotion very elegant and almost fluid.

Eksena! I can only imagine rows and rows of takoyaki and calamari and a pool filled with adobo. Yes, my love affair with food can never be undermined by my love for creatures of the sea. Haha! Yummy!

I'm pretty sure these are sea urchins. I wanted to take pictures of the stud puffin (see what I did there? HAHA) but it moved out of the frame. Makulit kasi siya. Bummer.

A few months a year, Seattle becomes home to a lot of salmons. Whenever they are in season, schools swim upstream for people to see. I'm only interested in salmon when it's sliced fresh by a sashimi knife so I just settled for the view. It was a beautiful day. :)

Before I boarded the ferry, I sat by a dock and had fish and chips.

This was my view from the table...

It would've been amazing to pet them, if they weren't such a health hazard. Hahaha. Kidding!

Hehe. I just wanted to share. That is all! :D