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.