‘Xed’-mas List

With Christmas just around the corner, I can already see last minute shoppers. And with last minute shoppers, come last minute gifts a.k.a. gifts-that-took-me-no-more-than-3-minutes-to-pick-out-for-you.

I have prepared a list of gifts that one should avoid during last minute shopping. This list shall serve as a guide to shoppers to spare their victims, er, gift recipients from the agony of smiling and lying that the gift they just received is the best thing in the whole wide universe.

Underwear. One can never have too many undergarments. But once you give someone the same pair for the 3rd time around, then we all know that you really haven’t put any thought into the whole gift giving business.

Socks. I’m not complaining about socks, since socks are a good thing. Like underwear, one can not have too many socks. But consider this, if you give your friend a pair of socks for the nth time this year (meaning, you gave him a pair on his birthday, during Easter and on some other occasion), then you might seriously reconsider not giving him another pair.

Soap. Unless your soap bar comes from outer space and has been used by Neil Armstrong, I highly doubt that anybody would be elated to receive a bar of soap from you.

Shampoo. Bottled shampoo is okay, especially if it is exotic and has a weird name. But if the shampoo comes in sachets and still has a price tag on it, it only means one thing: ‘You stink, you need a bath. Now.’

Sanitary Napkins. Yes, I have received these wondrous liquid catching contraptions on several occasions. No, I do not complain when I get these, since after all they are really handy when that time of the month comes. But giving these things to somebody of the opposite sex (who obviously has no idea what to make of these) is something I do not recommend – therefore, check if you got the names right on the gift boxes.

Self-help books. Unless the book magically improves one’s life right after reading, I highly doubt self-help books are an entertaining read (unless of course, self-help books have become action-adventure books with magic wand wielding boys). It’s Christmas, everybody is getting fatter and loading up on those calories, the last thing one wants to read is how being overweight is another ‘burden’ in one’s life that needs to be fixed right now.

So there you have it, gifts that are highly useful yet as dull as an unsharpened pencil (duh). Yet if you still receive gifts like these, don’t be bothered. Sure, they aren’t as supercalifragilisticexpialidocious as you wanted them to be, but it’s the thought that counts – it’s Christmas after all.

Here’s my secret that gets me through every Christmas when I receive these gifts, I think of one thing and all will be merry: Johnny Depp in a Santa suit – need I say more?

Postponed

It’s amazing how fast things can change in a matter of minutes. One moment the sun was shining and everything’s hunky-dory, and the next thing you know it’s already pouring cats and dogs (and other animals if you wish).

At one moment of our short-lived vacation, we imagined ourselves at home (or at the beach), away from school, enjoying our free time and not worry about exams, projects or assignments, while Heads of States would tackle more serious matters on political, social and economic development.

Yet all our musings (as well as the planned meetings) went down the proverbial drain as soon as tropical storm Seniang made itself known to the world.

So it’s back to reality for all of us.

This means, it’s back to school, back to work and back to our daily activities.

Oh well, the thought of having a break from school was fun while it lasted. Now, instead of finding ourselves on a deserted island far from civilization, we find ourselves behind our textbooks and computers once again, in that same old, stuffy classroom or workplace.

It’s hard to imagine, that the once bustling Cebu International Convention Center (CICC), which was bustling with life with foreign and local media, will now lay dormant and shall now wait for its reawakening this January.

It’s quite unfortunate that the 12^th Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) Summit has been postponed – not that because we are all looking forward to that much needed 4-day break – but because of all the preparations that have been made.

The labor force who worked tirelessly day and night for the completion of the CICC, are now probably eating their hardhats after the news passed of the postponement of the summit. Personally, these people should also be recognized and commended for a job well-done for building a convention center in a matter of months (which is quite a difficult feat).

The Christmas décor, which are scattered all throughout the cities of Mandaue, Lapu-lapu and Cebu, now has to be replaced by new décor come this January – unless of course we’ll celebrate Christmas in January, which is fine by me (it gives me more time to do my Christmas shopping).

It’s quite sad really, since everybody has been preparing for the summit for months and now we all have to wait for next year for the summit to resume. But then again, there is really nothing much we can do, after all, we are talking of a natural phenomenon here which has caused the postponement of the summit.

Now is probably the best time to be blessed with godly powers and do the most logical thing with them (aside from wishing for world peace): have the summit this week and postpone the storm until further notice.

Flying guide

After 10 years of safely staying grounded (literally and figuratively), I finally was able to take the skies once more. And to say that I was petrified would have been the understatement of the year.

Sure, I am accustomed to flying. I did that as a kid, flying from one time zone to another and sitting for 16 hours straight. But like I said, I did that as a kid and my last flight was 10 years ago.

Now that I’m old enough to understand that I’m sitting within a hunk of metal with wings, and dangling my life literally thousands of feet above the ground, flying does not sound appealing at all.

Knowing the escape exits is not enough. I’m squeezed in a hotdog like contraption with about another hundred people in it. If the plane crashes, I highly doubt knowing where the emergency exits are will help since everybody would just be screaming and running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

I know how to blow up my life vest. The ugly yellow/orange jacket can easily be blown up by just pulling a string or blowing it up by oneself (though, in times of emergency, I don’t think any person would blow the vest up by themselves, since they’d waste their breath on screaming).

One barf bag (a.k.a. motion sickness bag) is not enough these days. As a kid, I used to throw up frequently while riding a plane (or any moving vehicle for that matter). They should provide more barf bags to those who have weak stomachs. If the first bag is full, I do not want to be the stewardess who has to clean up the mess that the supposedly second barf bag should contain.

Flight personnel discuss about emergency landings and what to do. Each seat comes with a manual of the dos and don’ts during emergencies. I find these nice and all but after riding these flying monster contraptions almost half of my life, I know what to do during emergency by heart.

Sure, knowing what to do during emergencies is nice and all – since it does after all safe your life, but seriously, airplanes must come with a panic manual.

Listen, I sit for 50 minutes straight in a tiny metal contraption. I entrust my life in this huge piece of machinery that can malfunction any minute and drop out of the sky in seconds. After 10 years of no flying, I am paranoid as hell.

Instead of giving me a mindless magazine of ‘what’s hot and what’s not’, I’d rather page through a ‘How to not panic guide for idiots’, I’m sure there’s something in there that talks about turbulence and how to not die of a heart attack – page 58 perhaps, next to ‘What to do when your pilot accidentally flies into a tornado’.

The big 2-4

While filling up a form, a friend of mine practically carved the number 20 into the paper in the space designated for her age. With a huge frown, she looked like she was on the verge of tearing up the offending (though totally innocent) piece of paper.

I don’t get it why nearly everybody I know gets so riled about entering their 20s. Perhaps this is because I haven’t reached the so-called big 2-oh yet.

I wonder how my friend would react if one day she would wake up and realize she just turned 30. Now that would be a rather scary sight (and probably, really hazardous to my health).

I could only just imagine what would happen to me once I turn 30. In one of my past columns, I talked about career paths and how I’d probably end up writing international bestsellers and running a magazine (if I keep my fingers crossed really, really tightly). Wouldn’t it be great if that actually did happen to me once I turn 30?

Now if that really did happen, I’m sure I’ll have that beach house and champagne in no time at all. Hey, whoever reads my columns will get free invites to all parties I’d be hosting at the imaginary beach house – the parties of course, shall strictly be poetry readings, literary and journalism discussions.

As appealing as that all may sound, I highly doubt that that beach house shall pop up by the time the clock strikes midnight, signaling my 30th birthday – right now, I shall continue to dream.

Speaking of celebrations, Sun.Star is celebrating its 24th year anniversary. With all the talk about what I’d be when I turn 30 (prophesizing, in other words), it makes me wonder what I’d be doing when I’m 24.

Turning 24 is not only a significant number to Sun.Star right now, but also to me, because this means that I would only have one year to go before I would have a quarter-life crisis (which is hilarious to think of) and I’d already be working at that time (hopefully).

I fell in love with print media once I stepped into college, first taking up Mass Communication before majoring in Media Communications. By the time I turn 24, I certainly do hope that I would work in the field of print media as a writer.

Journalism is exciting, something I have learned in many journalism classes from some of the best journalism teachers I have encountered.

Beating deadlines, getting sources, writing articles and typing away furiously is something I have fallen in love with and I would love to establish a seriously relationship with all of it once I turn 24 (or even sooner).

Now, I can’t wait to turn the big 2-4.

In school

There’s no turning back now. The signature says it all, the stamp confirms it and your faith has been sealed. The schedule doesn’t lie. You are now in and there are no escape routes or fire exits anywhere. You are trapped.

School is in.

Ah, I make it sound as if school were a torture chamber. There’s really nothing to worry about. As long as professors don’t wield axes and pull out huge iron maidens from behind the blackboard, school won’t be that painful.

Sure, we cringe at the sight of red marks on our essays and the sight of test papers puts us into psychological turmoil but we got to look at the bright side of if all. We are learning.

Doesn’t that just make your brain cells tingle? Can’t you feel your brain actually grow and the dust that has accumulated over the weeks no activities disappear as your cerebral cortex goes into full swing?

C’mon people! Put on your thinking hats and for once be happy that school is in full swing!

I’m sure somebody out there must be nodding his head in agreement, while others are just about ready to pelt me with rotten tomatoes.

But before you pelt me with rotten produce and learn my route pattern and find out where I usually eat dinner, let me show you some ways of how to get you to school on time, make your stay there a bit more bearable (and less like medieval torture) and hopefully make you less allergic to the word ‘school’ (and then you can shower me with your rotten vegetables).

Stop coming into class late. There is nothing more than annoying that hearing (and watching) you come in late into class, it not only disturbs the class and the teacher but obviously, you have also just missed 30 minutes of valuable class time.

If you are a consistent late comer, try to make an effort to actually come on time for once. Set your alarm clock and wake up when it rings, owning an alarm clock and hitting the snooze button at the first ring and going back to sleep defeats the purpose of owning one (especially if you hit the snooze button three more times).

Have something to look forward to. I’m sure something in school motivates you. If it’s not your extremely cute crush in your algebra class, then it must one of the meals in the canteen. Look at it this way, even if you flunked your history test, you might as well just pig out in the canteen and eat your sorrows away (though, this is not advisable).

Find a subject you actually like. I’m sure out of all the subjects you are taking this semester; something has got to appeal to you. That’s motivation enough to get your behind into school and hopefully not late for your classes.

And lastly, be happy you are in school, you are lucky to be in school.

Go on, bring on the tomatoes!

Stalked

If stalking were legal and not psychologically disturbing, I’d happily stalk Johnny Depp. Not to mention, if I had enough money to spend on plane tickets, bus and taxi fare, food and camouflage clothes, I’d easily pitch a tent in front of his house and gawk at his royal Deppness.

But in reality, I live on the other side of the globe, thousands of miles away from this wonderful eye candy. Plus, I do not have the time and more importantly, the money, to fly over to America (or wherever Depp is) and follow him around – if I did, I’d just prove one thing: I have no life (and I need a psychologist).

It amazes to what extent stalkers will go just to get a piece of their object of obsession. It just seems so wrong (not to mention psychologically disturbing) when stalkers begin to steal personal items of their so called victims.

Seriously, why on earth do you steal used chewing gum, underwear, or a pregnancy test?! Cloning quickly comes to mind, but that procedure is just too expensive and cloning human beings is just a big no-no.

What ever happened to the normal lock of hair, hairbrush or t-shirt stealing? I’m sure building creepy shrines in your clothes cabinet dedicated to your stars is still popular somewhere on the globe.

Stalkers need a life – and a shrink. I do not see the point of tailing somebody who is richer than you, prettier than you, more popular than you and not to mention, won’t even give you a chance in the dating pool. And let’s not forget that these are filthy rich people, they can send the police after you and have your ass. I mean, doesn’t that hurt your self-esteem? That or you are just a total masochist.

I’m no stalker material. Given the chance to stalk (is that even possible?) I obviously lack the resources and I do not have the patience to follow Johnny Depp around and watch what he is eating. And besides, I am not yet that screwed up in the head anyway.

Stalkers should give it a rest. Come to think of it, that was so last century. Ogling people you’ll never meet, talk to or socialize with is rather pathetic. Use your stalking skills for something more productive, like working for the FBI or something. I’m sure your lurking skills will be useful for something like that.

Get a hobby. Play American football, I think you can lurk around and then pounce your opponent at the most unexpected time. For Pete’s sake, do that than stalking some poor person and getting on their nerves.

And one more thing that every stalker (or that person who follows you around and does not call himself a stalker but just a ‘friend’) should know and get into their psychologically damaged heads: get a life.

Halloween

Why parents dress up their children as clowns is beyond me. There is nothing cute about a sickly pale human being, with an oversized red nose and smudgy red lips. Above all else, they just looks really scary. (Let’s not even talk about ghouls and vampires, since, there is definitely nothing cute about monsters, no matter how young they are and how much they drool).

I admit, I am afraid of clowns. They do not amuse me, there is nothing funny about their colorful clothes, red noses and oversized shoes. And children in clown suits should be banned from the streets. Mini-clowns are just as scary as adult clowns and not to mention, twice as annoying.

With Halloween just around the corner, I expect to see a lot more tiny Spidermans, Batmans, ghouls, witches, princesses and dare I say, clowns on every street corner and mall around the city. This really doesn’t help my fear of clowns at all, as I am sure to bump into some baby clown somewhere. My bad luck has promised me so.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Halloween. The talk of hauntings, witches, ghouls and goblins are extremely exciting and not to mention, hair-raising. The feel of goose bumps on your skin and the chill that runs down your spine when you and your friends share ghost stories in the dead of the night just add to the fun factor.

Pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns have always been a must for every Halloween celebration. As a young kid, I remember eating pumpkin pie while being dressed up as a princess.

Yes, as a kid, I did the whole dress-up thing. I mean, who doesn’t? I’m sure, at some point in your life, your parents smother you with costumes and paint your face. I was a princess, a magician, and (I’m having difficulties sharing this) a bunny rabbit.

Yes, with all the candy, pumpkin, and costumes, Halloween is indeed fun.

Though as much as I love the pumpkins, the jack-o-lanterns, the whole scary atmosphere and the ghost stories, I firmly draw the line on horror movies and, well, clowns. I have yet to see a full length horror movie. And I have no plans of doing so, in fear of cardiac arrest or falling into a permanent coma.

I do not see the point of scaring yourself on purpose. I’d rather scare somebody else than purposely subject myself to two hours of pure terror and possible heart failure.

My real reason for never watching a horror movie? I’d rather not like to know what goes ‘bump’ in the night nor would I like to know what hides beneath my bed (do not, by any means, say clowns!).

Yes, I know, I am a chicken. Pass me the chicken suit – that’s my costume this year. Happy Halloween everybody!