Love Makes The World Go 'Round

Mec tagged me with this blog award.

Behind the award, is a wonderful story of love and survival of a little boy given another chance to live through a heart donor.

Please help raise awareness for Organ Donorship in the Philippines and abroad.

I am tagging the following people and giving them this award for being great Moms, Dads and Human Beings: Pheng, Den, Jonas, John and Johnny.

Borrowed Pixie Angel

Sometimes I look at Oona and wonder if she's really mine.

I know she came from me, fruit of my womb...the scars I have are way too itchy to be ignored and proof that she inhabited me for 9 months (not to mention the poundage I still have to lose!). But sometimes, she's just really her own little person, if it's possible to see such self-possession in someone less than a year old.

Apart from having borne her and continuing to nourish her, I wonder if I really have any contribution at all to this little amazement.

Of course, the words of a certain poet ring true.

I suspect, many more times in the future will this prophet's words echo in my head, the last never more true than the first time, as my little girl marches steady into the fulfillment of her being with those twinkling little stars in her eyes and that mischievious sunshine of a smile.

On Children
Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let our bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

The Clinic Chronicles: Part 6

Keeping The Bean

“It’s going to be okay.” The doctor said as she patted my hand. “Just keep on drinking the medicine and taking it easy, alright?”

I just nodded and thanked her as Mr. F helped me out the door. I wanted to escape so badly but needed to keep as much dignity I could muster.

Can you imagine how it’s like to swing from ecstasy to utter despair in the space of a few minutes? I could be schizoid for all I know, but given the circumstances, I would have a legitimate excuse. I now felt like a baseball bat walloped the back of my head, my throat was too tight, and my heart was too big for my chest.

It amazed me how these doctors could take on that kind of responsibility. They literally have their patients’ lives in their hands. They could make or break a person with a few words.

How do they handle it, facing mortality every day?

I think Mr. F and I just went on home afterwards. It was exhausting: exhilaration and the dregs in one unbeatable combination. We just ate something to dull the headachy feeling and talked.

We knew we wanted to keep the Beanie Baby, as the sprout was now called. I’ve stopped smoking (cold turkey since the day before), stopped drinking (last drop of alcohol was the week before), and we agreed that I’d have to stop the helter-skelter pace of my work life.

Curled up on our comforter, we cover random stuff, basically musing about how we would be parents. I wondered which of us would be the disciplinarian and the devil’s advocate. Of course, Mr. F claims to be the spoiler.

“You would be the Supreme Court. I’ll be the Court of Appeals!”

I scoffed at Mr. F. Right. Like that’s going to happen.

Nevertheless, we still felt depressed about the news the doctor gave us.

Scraps Away!

My name is Laya and I am a Scrapaholic. (Hellooo, Laya!)

This happened beacuse we just had way too much footage of Oona being the triggerhappy proud parents of this little girl. We hardly knew what to do with the batches of pictures we accumulated.

Later on I was just surfing through some arts and crafts websites when I came across digital scrapbooking. Needless to say I started right away, combining templates gathered from all over the net, my own stuff and my Photoshopping skills.

Now I am proud to announce that my new Scrapping blog's up! Visit me at Scraps Away!

Yes. I am an addict. Back to my Scrapaholics Anonymous meeting.

Busy Bee Mommy!

8 July 2008

I.AM.UP.TO.MY.EYEBALLS.IN.BUSY.

Nope that wasn't a typo. The BUSY symbol has been permanently attached to my YM since time immemorial (a little over a month ago). And there's no chance of it ever coming down.

Poor excuse not to be writing in but there it is. I am near to being sick of the sight of a computer monitor. But must make time for this every once in awhile!

So...updates, updates! Rewind!

A month or so ago: I used to be Assistant Studio Director for a nice little art services studio. Then I am not. The particulars, which would be savory tidbits for industry gossip over coffee, cigarettes or whatever your favorite poison would be, will not be aired *here*. I haven't been sufficiently provoked...yet. So no evil laughter inserts at the moment.

So career-wise, I have reincarnated in the space of a month from being ASD to my old favorite: Troubleshooter (which is what an ASD is, only I get to work in my pajamas). I wield a mighty pen tablet over Photoshop these days than the almighty memo. I worry about color than the million managerial worries that used to plague me in my old life. I am doing color for comics and flexing long unused Photoshopping muscles to help jumpstart an old dream. And yes, busy up to my eyeballs, sick of my monitor, the seat of my pants acquiring the general shape of my office chair, and on top of that, I'm SO loving this.

It was hard working for someone else's dream, but it's harder working for yours.

With my former boss, we're putting up a little something. We figure we're too old and ornery to work for someone else again and it was the universe telling us to materialize our dreams now instead of putting it off. No time like the present and all that. So officially, we put up our OWN little art studio and I'm ASD still. Unofficially, I'm put wherever I'm needed. Troubleshooter. I'm not much into titles but I'll take that anytime.

Other than work, I play with Oona, go out on occasion on dates with the ever lovable wise-ass Mr. F and assorted family and friends, catch up on reading, binge on episodes of Bones and reconnect with the human race. I find that I really like the respite from two years of stupid office drama and politics.

But busy is still busy does, believe me. Nowadays since we're starting up from scratch, I only have two times: Work time and Other time. Work is work and Other is the category wherein everything else that doesn't involve the computer falls under. It's a strict rule. It's like leaving work at the office. Only I work at home, so a little mental adjustment will have to do.

Hopefully soon I'll have more time to invest in Other time when things get better with Work time. Oona's growing up so fast and I'm nowhere getting any younger. But...Konting tiis na lang. Just a little bit more patience.

Such is the price of dreams.