Getting Along Swimmingly

W. Chan Kim and Renée Mauborgne wrote of “blue ocean strategies” that may be applied in the business world. True enough, they gave samples of organisations and leaders who are creating blue oceans of their own: Canada’s Cirque du Soleil, Australia’s Casella Wine [yellow tail] brand, and Korea’s Samsung, among others. Even the company that I’ve just recently signed up with, Direct With Hotels, is trying to create its own blue ocean in the worlds of the tourism and hospitality industries.

Personally, though, I think each person has the ability to create his/her own blue ocean. A blue ocean is (I’m paraphrasing as I go along, so please forgive me for any missteps in explaining what a blue ocean is ) that area where a person or an organisation creates a “unique” environment where other people/organisations would find it hard to compete against it. For instance, Cirque du Soleil did away with animal shows, three-ring stages, and expensive “big named” circus artists who ask a premium for their performances. Instead, it focused on providing pure entertainment, not for children, who are the traditional target market of big league circuses, but for adults. Similarly, I think an individual can create his/her own blue ocean through what Kim and Mauborgne called “value innovation.”

In my case, I think I can start building my own blue ocean if I start “rearranging” my daily attire. No more loose jeans and floral-printed shirts for this baby. No more head bands and scrunchies (not in public at least). Target market: rich youngish-looking bachelors with kind hearts. Hence, low-cut v-necked tops, dark coloured clothes (to hide the unavoidable bodily curves and bumps) flowing or sexy skirts, and subtle hair accessories are, I think, what Dr. Cosmopolitan has just ordered for me. Also, no more hiding the fact that I’m an alluring combination of both “smart lady” and “smarty-pants”. My competitors who are stuck in the “red ocean” market, in my humble opinion, consciously depict themselves as bimbos who can’t lift a finger when it comes to facing an adversary. Why they do so is beyond me. Likewise, no more wishing for Prince Charming. I just recently realised he does not exist. My friend Winky had advised me in one of our heart-to-heart conversations that in the game of love, a woman ought to have “low expectations and great fun.” Amen, sister, AMEN.

Furthermore, I think that in order to expand my own blue ocean, I would have to create new values to my person – values that other people, whose trust and respect I need to have, would also value. Wit, fun, humour, brains, and passion are “things” that I wish to possess – thus far, I don’t think I’ve failed in acquiring them. There are other values that I wish to imbibe, though: generosity (but not to the point of stupidity), wisdom (but not geeky), strength (but not super duper muscular that I’d look like ArnoldA Schwarzenegger), and true beauty (hello, Nip | Tuck?).

My blue ocean is still in the making and I don’t think it’ll be completely achieved until I reach the ripe ol’ age of 35 (!). As my blueness is still a work-in-progress, I’ll carry on doing what I do best, and blog ‘til I bleed out of my ears. Regardless of how long my blue ocean’s going to be developed, I think I still have the chops to get along with the rest of the world quite “swimmingly”.

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Inspirations

For these past two weeks, I’ve been writing our project’s final report which would eventually be submitted to our funding agency, the European Commission. (If you could, please check out the project/consortium website I had helped develop, www.comqual.com. :-)) My brain juices have essentially been bled dry during this excruciating procedure at work, and I just had to seek out inspiration to keep myself sane.

Time’s list of 100 Most Influential People in the world today was my constant desktop companion during my sojourn into this final project documentation. I must admit, there were names there that made me raise my eyebrows: Osama bin Laden (who’s categorised under “Leaders and Revolutionaries” – but I tend to think of him as the face of 9/11, as opposed to “leader”); Brad Pitt (who’s still recognised as “Artist & Entertainer,” but is generously praised for his film producing powers and his philanthropic ambitions); and, Elizabeth Edwards (labelled as a “Hero & Pioneer,” because she embattled and is continuing to embattle breast cancer. Of course, I am aware of cancer’s omnipotent destruction – my mother underwent breast cancer surgery in 1990, a young cousin died of leukaemia, and a college classmate had fought valiantly against yet still succumbed to bone cancer. But Edwards, a politician’s wife, is, in my humble opinion, neither a hero nor a pioneer because of cancer. Thousands of other people are battling other fatal diseases and illnesses, but they are not placed on pedestals by commercialised news or feature magazines. So, I have to ask: why?).

Time’s list got me thinking then, who’d be on my personal list of ten “most inspirational and influential” people? I count them (from the past to the present, and hopefully into the future) down here:

10. Drew Gilpin Faust: First, a confession - I’ve never heard of Faust prior to reading Soledad O’Brien’s write-up about her on Time.com. But I certainly have heard of Harvard – and of its paternalistic management history. Upon reading of Faust’s appointment as the premiere educational institution’s 28th president, I felt goosebumps rise on my upper arms and a thump in my chest, while I thought, “If Faust can do the near-impossible, so, perhaps, I can, too.”

9. Oprah Winfrey: Nelson Mandela gently reminded Time’s readers of the obstacles Winfrey went through before she got to where she is today, Chairman (yes, she calls herself Chairman, not Chairperson) of her own company, Harpo Productions. She was molested by her cousin’s older boyfriend when she was a mere slip of a girl; she was often passed over earlier in her career for other “more beautiful” female reporters; she was (and still is) often ridiculed for her weight issues; and, she is a daily target for tabloid fodder and public jealousy. Essentially, however, Winfrey shone through, creating choices and grabbing opportunities that went her way. Her perseverance, wit, and compassion are what keeps me glued to her show and to her website – she leaves me breathless while I anticipate to see what she has next up her sleeve.

8. My friend, Kai: a single mom, who’s managed to bring up the most wonderful boy who’s graced my world.

7. Nelson Sulpico: In July 2004, Sulpico, a Filipino taxi driver from New York returned every single piece of jewellery, collectively worth thousands of dollars, to his passenger, showing the whole wide world the true brand of someone who’s been privileged to call himself a “Filipino.”

6. Ziyi Zhang: My favourite foreign actor is a woman - a high-flying, ass-kicking, beautiful woman of pure Chinese descent, whose drive and ambition made her a great English-language communicator and caused men of various races to drool. Hers is the face that launched the faces of a billion other 21st century Chinese-descended women, me included. Her brain is nothing to scoff at either – which, equally, makes me look damn good.

5. Maya Angelou: Her words resound in my head whenever I feel like crap: “I am a woman / Phenomenally / Phenomenal woman / That’s me.” Now, tell me: how could I not admire her?

4. My first grade home-class adviser: Mrs. Baja and I fell in love with each other at first sight. She with my messy pig-tail tied hair, I with her kind eyes. She gifted me with my love for learning, and I gave her a leather hand bag that she constantly carried with her, all throughout my high school years. I’ll never forget her.

3. My aunt, Beth: She is what society would call an “old maid.” To me, she is what I hope to be someday - a rebel with a great cause, a generous heart, and a brilliant mind, who is also waaaaay cool.

2. My papa: His gruff exterior and oft-undecipherable interior still makes me quake in my shoes whenever I know I’ve done something stupid. It is his face that haunts my dreams and his words that strike at my conscience if I go ahead with my baser instinct and do something to hurt another human being. Because of this, his name I’ll forever carry.


1. My mother: ‘nuf said.

Fun in the Sun, Vol. I, Series 2

Mitch, Conne, and I again hopped into a car two weekends ago, this time with a few other friends and family members [yes, PJ finally got his “weekend family getaway” with Conne and their toddling son. But, like I’d toldcha, Peej, I’m sorta like family to you. You can’t get away. Mwahahahaha :-) ].

We traversed the South Super Highway, erstwhile known as the Sergio Osmeña Highway (why they changed the name, you may ask? I have no clue whatsoever. People usually don’t give a hoot about the changes made and still call the streets whatever name they had originally been baptised with. Oy!) Mitch rammed us through the smaller and bumpier streets of Batangas province – at a speed of at least 150 kph (which is equivalent to a little more than 93 mph)! Gawd, I’m still trying to untwist my poor maliciously distorted intestines. But, setting Mitch’s barf-brewing driving skills aside, the time we spent in Kabayan Resort was abso-bloomin’-lutely wonderful. I think we each made a couple of new friends, saw and enjoyed ogling attractive people of the opposite sex, and criticised (read: beeyotched about) our fair share of people who looked prettier than we did.

Since the rainy season is upon us now, I doubt I’ll be able to post another entry like this again, unless I go to Bermuda soon…

Tagged (again)!

Wooohoo! A break from work! Internet’s down, so I finally found time to compose an entry for mineistheearth. There’s plenty to say after more than a week’s absence online, so this is the perfect time to say them. Besides, my boss can’t blame me. I HAVE to do something while I’m here in his office, don’t I?


INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so.

1) Pointless Drivel
2) Shelli’s Sentiments
3) Curiosity Killer
4) Chrissy
5) Kim

Next select five people to tag: (if you haven’t done it already)
1) Winky
2) Raymond
3) Leigh
4) Ganns
5) Idjea


What were you doing 10 years ago?
I was about to start my freshman year at the Ateneo de Manila University. Come June 1997, I learned how to struggle graciously with a couple of subjects: Filipino 1 and PE (Fitness Walking)! I was never good at physical activities, but at least the gym workouts now are helping me compensate.


What were you doing 1 year ago?
I was starting my new job. :-)


Five snacks you enjoy
1) Nagaraya regular or adobo-flavoured crunchy peanuts
2) Canned peaches in syrup
3) Chocolate wafers
4) Ham with mayo on wheat bread and a glass of milk
5) Oreos and a glass of milk


Five songs to which you know all the lyrics:
1) Smooth (Santana feat. Rob Thomas)
2) Love Moves in Mysterious Ways (Julia Fordham)
3) Again (Janet Jackson)
4) Sana Maulit Muli (Gary Valenciano)
5) You Oughta Know (Alanis Morissette)
Note: I've memorised other songs, but these are the top five that I feel I can blog about without blushing.


Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
1) Spruce up my folks’ home in Quezon City and purchase the title to my family’s ancestral home in Paco, Manila

2) Upgrade and buy up everything on my list of “I Wants”

3) Go on a trip around the world with someone special

4) Put up my own business – preferably something related to food and/or clothes

5) After accomplishing items 1-4, I’d start a pension fund, which would be, at most, 20% of my remaining net worth, and then I'd contribute the rest to charities that would benefit Filipino street children.


Five bad habits:
1) I smoke.
2) I crave for chocolate way too much.
3) I blog at work, something I really shouldn’t be doing.
4) I gossip. Kindly. :-)
5) I drink coffee as if it’s water.


Five things you like doing:
1) Travelling
2) Writing – hence, the blog. D'oh!
3) Reading Nora Roberts novels – my guilty pleasure
4) Singing in the shower
5) Having Wednesday or Friday night drinks with my Maddoggers!


Five things you would never wear again:
1) Anything with a floral pattern printed on it – these clothing items should be banned from the face of the earth, forever!

2) Butterfly clips to tie back my hair. They are soooooo ten years ago, man.

3) Fitted pants. My thighs have already revolted and won against these things.

4) Stockings without garter clips holding them up on my legs during a job interview - I did this only once in my life, when I had an interview for an internship position at J. Walter Thompson (one of the world’s largest ad agencies). The stockings started rolling down my legs as I descended a staircase, on my way down to the ladies’ powder room to re-touch my make-up. Due to highly strung nerves, I accidentally ripped the bloody hose as I pulled them up. I had to go bare-legged during the interview. It was just my luck that I forgot to shave my legs that day, too. *sigh*

5) Runny mascara during a job interview – After I took off the torn hose (please see #4), I was already sweating cats and dogs inside the very hot restroom. I checked myself in the mirror and simultaneously wiped dripping sweat off of my brow. Horrifyingly, a straight black line appeared from one end of my right brow to the other end of left brow, as soon as I put my hand down from my face.
Note: I still got the job at J. Walter Thompson, despite items 4-5.


Five favorite toys:
1) My PDA
2) My car
3) My office laptop – which I bring home to watch DVD’s on
4) My gym’s ab machine
5) My sister’s mobile phone, since mine sucks.

Burned!

A trip down to the town of San Juan in Batangas was exactly what the doctor ordered for me this past weekend. Expect another "Fun in the Sun" entry to be posted here soon (insert: I just love love love the fact that I live two to three hours away from a good beach - north, south, east, or west.)

However, the prescribed "drug" I took this weekend turned out to be addictive, waaaay too addictive... Today, I look as if I deliberately boiled myself alive. Head first. From my hairline down to my underarms, I'm an Oompa-Loompa personified. Oi vey.

The Dances That I’ll Never Dance Again

I love to dance.

By myself.

And, in private.

My moves are never ever to be seen in public. They’ve been known to stop traffic and cause horrendous appalling accidents that could have been avoided in the first place. But I’m game with trying new things at least once in my life. So, when my gym trainer suggested that I try out the aerobic classes they were offering to all gym members, I thought, “Sure, why the heck not? How bad could it be?”

Well, I found out a few days ago exactly how bad it CAN be. It can be stupendously horrible, atrociously bad, and hideously awful. First off, the aerobics instructor was a man - one who is more girly-girl than I am. Jesus, he has an hour-glass figure and a flexible frame. He has shaved legs, too, to boot! Second, he was very very good, but had a soft soft voice. I stood at the back of the class and struggled to hear his instructions. To my mortification, I found myself with a pair of tangled legs, two lead arms, a dreadful rhythm, and THE sweatiest body to hit that dance floor EVER.

As I went through the class, I distinctly heard him instruct us to do the “mambo,” the “cha-cha-cha,” and the “boogie” several times during the exercise routine. My gawd, I have not had any training whatsoever in dance (except the ballet, when I was five years old), so I ended up massacring all three dance steps. My brain and my hips swayed in opposite directions; my two left feet brought me crashing into other students; and, my stiff hands stubbornly clutched at my waist.

I checked my watch – I’ve only been in the class for 20 minutes and I decided I’ve had enough. The instructor has ordered us to pair up... Pair up?! No friggin’ way. I’d much rather take my individual humiliation and drown myself in a Jacuzzi. Moral lesson learnt: I’ll stick to fantasizing about Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing, Mikhail Baryshnikov in White Nights, Channing Tatum in Step Up, and Marques Houston in You Got Served. No more dreaming about dancing like the stars.

But, I’ll still hippity-hop my way around my 30-sqm condo to the sound of Jojo’s Too Little Too Late any darned time I want to, thank you very much.

Dear God

Thank you for not making me a young mommy. Below is the reason why I think you made me choose not to have kids surrounding me 24 x 7 x 365. They’ll probably drive me to drink too early too soon. But, lawdy, I just gotta love ‘em. And, thank you, for creating such wickedly funny people (teachers, most probably) who post these things on the Net, too.




And, God, please don't hate me, but I sooooooo agree with these following prayers:


Indeed, why DID you create siblings, particularly sisters, in the first place? I could have been much much happier as a single child.

Nevertheless, I acknowledge that you are omniscient and omnipotent. Elliot summed up my sentiments quite well, to tell you the truth:


Amen.

Stuck

Dedicated to Conne and PJ. Thanks for the ride yesterday. Also dedicated to our office building’s administrator/manager. May you rot eternally in your own edifice.

Yesterday afternoon, I decided to hitch a ride with my friends, Conne and PJ, to my condo because rains started to pour down in the middle of the sweltering humidity we’ve been experiencing recently in this part of the world. Conne and I packed up our laptops and boarded the elevator that would take us down from the fourth level of our office building to the ground floor, where PJ was waiting. Ten seconds into the ride, the elevator car’s lights abruptly shut off, throwing us into pitch black darkness. Simultaneously, we heard an ominous thump and felt the car’s floor bump heavily against our feet. We mentally screamed: we’re stuck.

I swear, it was the longest minute of my life. Conne started wheezing (ladylike-ly, of course), and whipped out her mobile phone so we would have some semblance of light inside the 50-year-old elevator carriage. I silently prayed that there would be a button on the control panel that would signify “EMERGENCY. "A prayer was essential because some naughty building tenants had been scraping the labels off of the elevators’ buttons. Thankfully, though, there it was – a bedazzling yellow button with a black bell drawn on it. I pressed on it. Nothing. I pressed it again, harder. Still nothing. We mentally screamed: we’re stuck.

And I could not find my blasted mobile phone inside my personal black hole (i.e., my bag). So, I shouted for help. Conne breathed even more heavily (but ladylike-ly, of course). I shouted louder, and thought, “Is this it??? My end has come in the form of a 1x3x7-foot elevator cab, with dirty white walls that had badly scrawled curse words drawn on them?” I mentally screamed: I don’t even have a bloody boyfriend who’ll miss having me around!

Suddenly, the lights came back on. We heard a whirring sound (the elevator motor, I presumed), and praised whatever god there may be, for it seemed as if our ordeal with the small, bad, elevator was over. Another sixty seconds later, the doors chug-a-chugged opened. Hallelu - - wait - - where are we? On the seventh freakin’ floor. Never mind, never mind. We found a staircase and started our descent. We mentally screamed: we’re free.

While waiting for us inside his car, PJ fumed. We had made him late for his next appointment. We screamed: we got stuck.

Ten Weird Facts About Kim.

Thanks for tagging me, Conne! This kept me from drooling over my laptop at work today. Mega bored, man.

1. I can drive any type of commercial vehicle (even prefer stick shifts over automatic transmissions) and manoeuvre a yacht. I’m fairly confident that I can fly a plane, which is why I’m already searching for good flight schools. But - I do not know how to ride a bicycle.
2. I own over 80 bags. I only have about 15 pairs of shoes.
3. I abhor soft drinks.
4. I can speak fluent Chinese (Fookien, to be more exact) but cannot write in that language.
5. Similar to the fact that I need three alarm clocks before I feel compelled to get out of bed, I need (on average) three cups of very very black coffee (no sugar, no cream) every morning before my brain can function normally.
6. I use my right hand to write and to hold chopsticks, but I use my left hand in just about every other one-handed type of activity – playing badminton/tennis, texting on a mobile phone, carrying a bag, holding a cue stick, using a calculator, etc.
7. I recently bought a trendy-looking black trench coat to wear in the office. It’s 38 degrees Celsius outside.
8. I’m allergic to Maybelline lipsticks.
9. Like Chrissy, I’m also allergic to certain types of metals that are being commercially used to make earrings. Also, apparently, my ears prefer earrings made of gold. Too bad, gold earrings are so not in fashion now. Hence, I let my ears suffer.
10. I can only passionately play one piano piece from memory: Beethoven’s “Für Elise.” The first part only. I don’t know how to play how to play the second part.

Action-Packed Weekends

The past two weekends saw me enjoying two wild Hollywood movies: Antoine Fuqua’s “Shooter” and Sam Raimi’s “Spider-Man 3.” With a tummy stuffed full of caramel-covered popcorn and store-bought orange juice (this may seem like a yucky combination to some, but I actually prefer this to popcorn and soda. I hate soda/soft drinks) during these last two movie outings, I have to say I was on a pseudo-adrenalin rush.

Mark Wahlberg portrayed Bob Lee Swagger. Bob Lee (oi, whatta name! *muffled laughter*) is a disillusioned military sharpshooter/marksman who sequestered himself from the world when his spotter and best friend had been killed in a mission gone awry. Tobey Maguire’s Peter Parker/Spider-Man, on the other hand, is a revered super hero saving New York City from the weirdest and most deadly enemies NYC has ever seen (spoiler: it’s a good thing the Sandman saw the error of his ways at the end of the film, for how, indeed, can you destroy sand?). True, Spidey hides his real identity from his adoring fans, but it’s only because he wants to protect his loved ones from harm. Unlike him, Bob Lee hides from the world because he felt that he needed to.

The difference between the two characters and the two movies is the result of the two different men who helmed the creation of these films. Fuqua used to direct music videos – he had actually won industry recognition for directing Coolio’s 1993 “Gangsta Paradise” video – and eventually moved into mainstream film making. I had watched three of his previous works: “Training Day” (starring Denzel Washington and Ethan Hawke), “Tears of the Sun” (with Bruce Willis and Monica Belucci), and “King Arthur” (where I first got to ‘know’ Clive Owens and Kiera Knightley). Comparing these past works with “Shooter,” though, I think that Fuqua has not lived up to the hype. Oh, Wahlberg’s great and everything, but it didn’t drive me wanting to relive the film all over again (which is my personal “metric” of what a great film is). In King Arthur, I wanted to be like Knightley’s Guinevere and I decided that Owens was the best Arthur ever (even though I didn’t originally think that he was right for the role). In “Training Day,” I bawled my way through most of the film, and wished that military men in real life ARE as dedicated, idealistic, and yummylicious-looking as the ones Willis and his comrades played onscreen were. In Training Day, I absolutely hated Washington’s misdirected and rogue cop character, and debated with friends about the ethics of the tactics used in today’s crime-fighting world. With Shooter, I merely watched the film, ate my popcorn silently, and wondered about why the movie ended the way that it did.

Raimi’s “Spider-Man 3” is another story: it abso-bloody-lutely rocked! And, he’s finally found a way to contain and control Mary Jane’s annoying screams! I think choosing Topher Grace to play Eric Brock/Venom was just perfect – I never could tell Grace and Maguire apart . There are some scenes that screamed “guilty pleasure!!!” scattered throughout the film (i.e., Peter dancing that nerdy dance in front of a boutique, MJ and Peter canoodling on a huge spider web), and I blushingly giggle at them. Raimi does have a sixth sense when it comes to knowing what his audience wants. I usually end up thinking, “well, that show was a wee bit embarrassing, but what the heck, I loved it anyway). C’mon, admit it. You watched “Xena: The Warrior Princess” and “Hercules” on TV at some point in your life, too… I grudgingly admit that I did. Every week. And I wore black for an entire week after both shows suddenly dropped out of boob tube existence.

Watching these two films were exhilarating, heart-pumping, and mind-boggling (*sigh* Philippine cinema has yet to catch up, unfortunately). Nothing else has the ability to take my attention away from everyday problems. Now, I am soooooooo looking forward to Harry Potter: Order of the Phoenix, Shrek the Third, Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer, Transformers, Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End, Knocked Up, etc. etc. etc. Man, my savings look like they’re gonna be depleted this summer.

Because I Asked You to Ask, Chrissy...

I tried to resist. Oh, how gallantly I tried. In the end, I failed. I am seriously addicted to memes. If there’s a therapist out there who specialises in curing people out of this curious affliction, please please… stay away from me. I’m hooked.

Thank you for the mind-provoking questions, Chrissy! You’re brilliant.


1) First off, how did you come up with the title of your blog? What is the story behind your blog?

I love Rudyard Kipling’s poem “If.” The last four lines continuously inspire me to try and do better every day (regardless of what it is that I’m doing.)

“If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!”

I thought, “mine is the earth” sounds pretty darned ambitious and that it is so high and lofty an aspiration that it, somehow, got stuck in my head. I’ve been mentally carrying the phrase around everywhere I go for over ten years now, and it still continues to make me want, make me need, and make me wake up from bed each morning thinking, “will the earth be mine today?”

Just so it’s clear to my dear readers, though, I personally think that Kipling only meant to have the phrase “you’ll be a Man, my son” as a generalisation of every child on earth (aside from the fact that “son” conveniently rhymes with “run”). I am neither a Man, nor a son. I’m a girl, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a cousin, a hard worker – whose sum total could only be described as “woman.” Now, I’ll stop the poetic sensibilities here, before I start reciting Maya Angelou’s “I’m a woman, phenomenally / Phenomenal woman / That’s me.” Oi vey, as Ganns would say.

The story behind “mineistheearth”? As you’ve noticed, I only started this blog a couple of months ago, due to the persistent persistence of my dear friend, Conne, who, at that time, was hyper-geared up and super duper eager to reap the possibilities that blogging brings a person. Now, however, I seem to be spending more and more time on the blogsphere than she does. Again, my confession has to be reiterated. I am soooooooo hooked. I mean, just look at the length of this answer to question number one. Question number one! Sheeeesh.


2) If you could name ONE place that you've been to that you would love to revisit one day, where would that place be and why?

Shanghai. I’ve only been there once, and that was back in 1993 (I think). I am an urbanite, through and through, and everyone (from business writers to linguists to film makers to historians to economists to commercial/industrial workers to students to locals to foreigners…) has gone on and on about how Shanghai has become one of China’s greatest business and urban successes in the past five years. I want to see it for myself again, because in 1993, to me, Shanghai had looked like what Manila City did in 1983. In 2007, Shanghai, to me, looks like what Manila City aspires to be in 2013. I would want to know how the Shanghainese did it, and what Manileños like me can do to, again, be within Shanghai’s ‘marketability’ range.


3) What does "a typical day in the life of Kim" look like?

My workdays are pretty much the same:
• 0300H - manually turn off the air-conditioner in the middle of the night (the darned thing doesn’t have timer, unfortunately). Gotta save on electricity.
• 0600H – first alarm.
• 0700H – second alarm. Yes, I need a second alarm, or else, I’ll shut off the first and continue sleeping until noon. Lounge around some more on the bed. Read several chapters of the book on the nightstand.
• 0730H – third alarm – this signals my brain to zap the rest of my body out of bed. Prepare “Kim’s Time-Tested Fool-Proof 15-Minute Breakfast”: scrambled eggs with mayonnaise on wheat bread, and a glass of non-fat milk. Toast the bread if not too lazy. Try not to spoil the milk by leaving it outside on the table, because of being too lazy.
• 0745H – wash dishes and utensils used for breakfast.
• 0800H – hit the gym. Exercise excruciatingly. Take a shower.
• 0915H – start walking from the gym to the office. Control the sweat glands. Mentally run through the day’s schedule.
• 0930H – Gulp down the first coffee of the day. Go get a second cup of coffee to induce brain to work. Then, attend first meeting of the day. Then, work again. And, then, go attend another meeting.
• 1330H – power lunch.
• 1400H – work again. Sneak in some blogging every once in a while.
• 1900H – go home, which is about a 5-minute walk away from work. A better alternative, though, is to go have an after-work coffee or three glasses of gin pomelo with friends.
• 2300H – take a shower (It’s justified. It was hot outside!). Read same book.
• 0000H - Sleep.

Weekends are normally devoted to parents who live in Quezon City. Sit through their interview sessions about my life, in general (Please refer to blog entry entitled “Survivor: Metro Manila.”) Do homework/assignments from MBA school. Catch up on what’s happening on “CSI,” (Las Vegas, New York, and Miami), “Criminal Minds,” “Psychic Detectives,” “House,” [Hugh Laurie, I love you.] “Bones,” “Fear Factor,” “Martha Stewart Living,” “America’s Next Top Model,” “Project Runway,” “The Simpsons,” “Spongebob Square Pants,” and “Aang: The Last Avatar.” Indulge in watching trashy tabloid-y entertainment news shows. Tune in to the latest films being shown on HBO and on Star Movies. Sleep. Glorious sleep.


4) How would you describe your latest adventures in dating? What is your idea of your ideal partner? (Being realistic, of course! We're not talking Brad Pitt here!)

What “dating?” Please refer again to answer given to question number 3.

Ideal partner has to have hair like Fabio’s, a forehead like Akon’s, eyebrows like Colin Farrell’s, eyes like Lee Dong Woo’s, a nose like Denzel Washington’s, a mouth like Price William’s, a chin like Bill Clinton’s, ears like Ben Affleck’s, a body like Mark Wahlberg’s, money like Bill Gates’, a sense humour like mine, an intellect and a heart like my dad’s. Ha! No Brad Pitt at all! :-)


5) What is the most important belief/rule you have for yourself (and/or others)?

Karma, whether it’s good or bad, can bite you on the butt anytime. Also known as Confucius’ “The Golden Rule,” or as emphasised by the Christian Bible's Matthew Chapter seven Verse 12.

I want...

1. A sleek semi-new affordable sedan, preferably coloured forest green or canary yellow, so that I don’t have to commute in this gawd-forsaken heat.
2. A condo unit all my own, one that I’m not forced to share with anyone else, also preferably one that I pay real-estate taxes for, all by myself.
3. A heavy-duty Teflon-covered flat-bottomed all-around pan. I’ve always told myself that I’d buy one the next time I go to the mall, but somehow I always seem to get distracted by that cute girly skirt, that awesome James Dean-printed top, that über pro-looking blazer, that pair of softly-padded heels that are just to die for, and that yummilicious-looking plate of pasta.
4. Another cute girly skirt.
5. An awesome Bob Marley-printed shirt.
6. An über pro-looking pair of slacks to match my new blazer.
7. A pair of furry slippers to help my aching feet rest after a whole day of standing in the killer shoes.
8. A gym membership that lasts forever + a day to counter that sinful plate of pasta I shouldn’t have eaten last night.
9. An Apple I-book, with unlimited memory.
10. An Apple I-pod, also with unlimited memory.
11. Open source software to be known and advocated by every single living person on this planet! But, since that’s not possible, I’ll just concentrate on my own small set of friends, and make them convert to the belief that open source is the new tech god.
12. Tourism here in the Philippines to be better managed, so that Thailand, Indonesia, Malaysia, and other ASEAN nations don’t continuously trample us in the international market.
13. A business of my own.
14. A food business of my own, separate from no. 13. The previous entry, however, would still be part of the service industry, since it’s what I’m most familiar with.
15. To know how to fly a plane.
    

This is in response to some very persistent acquaintances’ own lists of “I want’s…” As you can see, I have some on the list that are pretty achievable (i.e., skirt, shirt, shoes), others that are mild hallucinations (i.e., car, condo unit, I-book), and some that are extremely wild (i.e., better-managed Philippine tourism). My point? You can’t have ‘em all, bebes.

Survivor: Metro Manila

I’m twenty-six years old. Never married. Single. Smart. Employed. Chubby. Funny. Thrifty. Extroverted. Intelligent… no wait, I said that already. Laid-back. Short. Friendly (I suppose the clue to this one was the previous description “extroverted.” Duh.). But I’ve never really been independent.

I’m not like Chrissy or Curiosity Killer who have travelled extensively and worked vigorously in various parts of the globe. My life’s simple – but not idiotic or boring, contrary to what Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie seem to think of the lives of the world’s regular Joes and Janes. Recently, however, I’ve made a move to change all that: I moved out of my parents’ comfortable home in Quezon City and into a semi-expensive flat (read: scrimping and saving are absolutely necessary for an ordinary yuppie to be able to afford this room on a monthly basis) in Makati City.

Ours is a conservative society: normally, a child does not move out of his/her parents’ house here in the Philippines, unless s/he is getting married already or earning more than the parents do. Sometimes, people who’ve moved out of their respective parents’ homes in their college years or during their early early adulthood even move back into the parents’ nest once they do tie the knot. Causes: simple. Money’s hard to come by. Blue-collar work, and sometimes, even white-collared ones here basically do not support a middle-income lifestyle. Relying on mom and pop is sooo much more convenient than the alternative.

However, I consciously chose the alternative last September – and, so far, I can say that it’s been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. On my own, I’ve learned to survive. “Grocery Shopping 101” is a course that’s proved to be extremely valuable. Key lesson learnt: “detergent” is quite different from “dishwashing liquid.” The former is normally in granule form, and is, therefore, difficult to use to wash china with (even if they were hand-me-downs, china is still china is still china.) “Cooking for One” was also an important course. Key lesson learnt: one kilo of ground pork does not equal one serving. “Cutlery” covered some pretty interesting lessons, too. Here, my key lesson was that dull knives are way more dangerous than sharp ones. Why? I have no idea. But I’ve got the evidence of this fact bleeding on my laptop.

(Insert ‘bathroom-break’: got to go stop the bleeding. Note to self: include ‘band-aids’ in the grocery list for tomorrow.)

“Cooking 104” was exciting though. Many lessons learnt there. One, don’t just leave defrosted marinated meat inside the refrigerator for three straight days. They’ll give you intense indigestion that’ll send you straight to the hospital when you cook and eat them on the fourth day. Two, green eggs, albeit their emotional significance to you and Mr. Schmidt, are not good for you. Again, you’ll save another trip to the doctor’s if you simply throw them out. Three, store-bought pasta cannot be boiled until the water completely evaporates. That would only result in a ruined pan and, more importantly, a starving stomach, which would have to be assuaged with your umpteenth burger from McDonald’s this week. Four, look at bottle labels before you grab whatever’s inside those said bottles and use it on a dish/beverage. For instance, black vinegar used in adobo tastes grandiosely gross, and two teaspoons of salt instead of sugar in your morning instant coffee is just pure unpleasantness. I could go on and on, but I fear that I’ll just make you (1) get off your chair in disgust, or (2) barf.

Being on my own was not a hunky-dory-peachy-keen experience. Hoo boy, I haven’t even written about “Bathroom Cleaning 4.1” yet. :-) But, there’s still time to experiment, learn, enjoy, and survive in this rented condo unit. My lease ends in June, and I’m already begging my landlord to not kick me out yet. Seriously, I did not mean to set off the fire alarm on my second night. I love it here. Life is good.