tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18074051645127762822024-03-13T11:03:16.142-07:00Chiqui*Kat (Almost)Daily.Rain or shine
Here you'll find
A piece of my heart
A slice of my mind
ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.comBlogger98125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-84346367632334612192013-07-08T21:27:00.001-07:002013-07-08T21:27:19.685-07:00Moved to Wordpress<a href="http://www.chiquikat.wordpress.com/">See you there!</a>ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-69010319505463400082013-05-30T21:14:00.002-07:002013-05-30T22:07:22.886-07:00Day 30 | My Writing Buddyship<b><br /></b>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Journal, 1998</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>It is Day 30. </b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Quite a journey this has been. I stop and take stock. Thirty days of blogging that started <a href="http://chiquipineda.blogspot.ca/2013/05/hallelujah-anyway.html">here</a>. My most consistent and successful run so far in this writing life.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So what have I learned in the last 30 days of blogging with my wruddy*, <a href="http://www.myglorybox.com/?page_id=2">Charina:</a></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">1) I now get the full bodied wisdom behind Natalie Goldberg's #1 rule of writing: Keep your hand moving. In writing into my journals, this is easier. But with a buddy who I know will be reading what I'm writing, there was a bit more resistance. When I resist, the writing is tight. Stunted. Pilit. So I let the caps go, write a la e.e.cummings, forget the rules and just keep it moving. The ground gets moist and the fresh green shoots of word after word, story forming story happens.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">2) I learned that you do not give up on finding a writing buddy. I've made several attempts in the past with some closest and dearest. Somehow the schedules didn't match, the vibe doesn't jive and plain and simple, it's just not meant to be. But something in me kept pushing for finding the one. Thanks, Cha, for saying yes to my very informal yet just as heartfelt invitation to join me in this writing journey. The benefits of having a writing buddy that became an ally and sister and mentor and student and teacher and guardian angel all rolled into one is a gift beyond measure!</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: left;">3) There's just no way around it: We are b</span><span style="text-align: left;">etter together! Worthwhile endeavors, be it learning a new language, running a marathon, starting an exercise program, climbing mountains, and yes, getting your writing muscles better and stronger and tougher, they're just much, much better when done with someone whose company you enjoy. <i>Connect-connect-connect!</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">4) Energy is precious. I give it and get it and give it back out again. I once had somebody mentor me in my bid for better writing. Allison whose writing I fell in love with back mid-2000 held my hand when I was so unsure of how to get started in this writing life that I so wanted to be living. It gives me so much pleasure to know that I've paid it forward.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">5) Writing is easy. Blogging is difficult. It will stay difficult, yes, even with a buddy. The reason for this is the 'shipping' part. So I agree with what Charina reminds me about addressing-one. It is the sacred rule of writing. Stephen King speaks about it in his book On Writing. Mr. King has chosen his wife, Tabitha as his One Reader. Teacher Nat has mentioned it a few times, too.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Making your unknown known is the important thing."</td></tr>
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I will stop talking now and allow my very dear and generous Wruddy's writing to shine here.<br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Presenting my Wruddy, Charina, and her Day 29 Post - <a href="http://www.myglorybox.com/?p=2221">The Importance Of A Writing Buddy</a></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">“<i>Kat became my key. There I was just quietly existing, then Kat came along and “discovered” me. To this day, I don’t really know exactly what she found in me. Oh there were many connections. (I’ll attempt to write about every single one of them that I know of in a separate post.) You see, Kat has the gift to “see” raw talent or skill in someone. She discovers “everyday magic”, then proceeds to find just the right key to give that person flight. She has the ability to tweak, do small adjustments, the right words of encouragement. She describes my writing as luminous, impeccable, and rich. She made me jump off the cliff and into “honest, no apologies, vulnerable” kind of writing.” ~ Charina “My Wruddy” Giron</i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I am honored. Beyond words very honored by this and so darn proud of you, Pokski. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">There's still so much to learn and teach and feel and express, so much life to live! As Charina's tag line goes "Never stop exploring." I believe this with all my heart.</span><br />
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Thank you for practicing Courage in Creativity with me this merry month of May...and beyond!<br />
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I hope to continue next month, June, with a new journey: 30 Days of Stories in Music and Photos. Simply put, I'll be posting one song today and then a photo the next. <br />
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Join me, will you? I'm still trying to convince my wruddy to continue, too!<br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">XOX,</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Journaling in Paris, 1995</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">*wruddy = writing buddy</span>
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ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-40578493344060255902013-05-29T22:33:00.000-07:002013-05-30T21:41:25.566-07:00Day 29 | the one where i say "holy canon camera!"<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGg5k9197r9v4eSWat4ZoyqR10X4WUZB33mvD4Ia5Rnsh9-YhkUl0RU49Suye63oWnVGnAPOtU2PXJZtx2m9sEvatwJlIPYwdfgEmn3wGt2HwASUujSlin3iwH3ATYc9UiuC6VyXxSrTQ/s1600/2402112715_3f8052c414_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGg5k9197r9v4eSWat4ZoyqR10X4WUZB33mvD4Ia5Rnsh9-YhkUl0RU49Suye63oWnVGnAPOtU2PXJZtx2m9sEvatwJlIPYwdfgEmn3wGt2HwASUujSlin3iwH3ATYc9UiuC6VyXxSrTQ/s640/2402112715_3f8052c414_b.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">©KatShotsPhotography, 2008</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Flashback: 2008</span><br />
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<i style="background-color: #fefefe; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Thornhill, ON. April, 2008 :: in between the hundred and one chores and just trying to make life work, i still try my best to squeeze in the grab-camera-and-snap-away-at-the-kids routine. it's a strong pull. stronger than the pull to the laundry room. i follow it because it makes me happy. </i><br />
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<i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">they're more makulit* now that they're older. it's a challenge to keep them in one place. they're hardly stand still. when they were babies you could just plop them down in a corner and presto...photoshoot in session! now it's more an aerobic activity photographing them: kneel down, chase them around, holler for them to "please, guys, just stand on that spot on the big rock for one more minute...just one more photo...one more.......".</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>of course it's never just one more. and they don't ever stand on that rock for an entire minute either.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>i think it's worth the effort. the grow so fast i can hardly keep up with the way their hands (and nails!) look. one day i was wiping the remnants of timbits off of the little guy when it suddenly hit me: those hands! when did your hands get so much bigger?!</i></span></div>
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<i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and i'm thinking to my self: whose hands are these and where did all the baby fat and pudgy fingers go?</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>snap-snap-snap-snap ::</i></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">©KatShotsPhotography<br />
Pudgy</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Fast-forward: 2013</span></div>
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Brampton, ON. May, 2013: I am so darn grateful for following that pull. For obeying Joseph Campbell's words to "Follow your bliss". Yes, even when you can hardly keep your eyes open and your legs are cramping from chasing them around too much.<br />
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I may not be able to bring back this time but, holy canon camera, thank you! Thank you for being there to help me capture these moments. They give me so much joy and a gentle yet powerful reminder that "It's all good, Mom. It's all good."<br />
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This I say to you, dearest new mommy (or daddy) reading this post: It's all good. There'll be days when it feels like you just won the heavenly lotto max and then sometimes it feels like it's all sh*t and stones. It's okay. Just remember to grab that camera and keep snapping. Yes, even the ordinary everyday moments.<br />
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<a href="http://chiquipineda.blogspot.ca/2013/05/day-28-bonus-that-everyday-magic.html">Like Jojie said,</a> <span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>"<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 16px;">Chiqui’s biggest accomplishment as a photographer is creating unforgettable pieces infused with love and spontaneity, which she refers to as Everyday Magic. Her hope is that her images will carry over through the years and invoke the same feeling when you first looked at them 20-30 years down the road."</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It isn't 20 down the road yet, thankfully. But the feelings I have looking at these photos right now make the burden of this day lighter. It gives me faith in knowing that no matter what happens today, I'll have these precious memories and will continue to <a href="http://www.katshots.com/">make them</a> for as long as I can.</span></span><br />
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Courage in creativity,<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSlRGPmtIIFDrPEBMCuu71c5ZL6iTP2g7caMy6cylsFxUM1UgJdKAhjWzVTbR_9QKPxS773600htN70DWE6qO6uY6tuT7YFqhnbJuBsPdqgqgi4uyhm4roeb9HAJMfplnIyhu3DKIoNPg/s1600/chiqui+siggy+small+smile.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="94" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSlRGPmtIIFDrPEBMCuu71c5ZL6iTP2g7caMy6cylsFxUM1UgJdKAhjWzVTbR_9QKPxS773600htN70DWE6qO6uY6tuT7YFqhnbJuBsPdqgqgi4uyhm4roeb9HAJMfplnIyhu3DKIoNPg/s200/chiqui+siggy+small+smile.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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*makulit = rowdy</div>
<br />ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-33299126414191771302013-05-28T22:10:00.001-07:002013-05-30T21:51:27.092-07:00Day 28 | That Everyday Magic, A Guest Post<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-PDg3zVBe2IeJRjhVP_vhCIyjnz2ldQOGz4ZANQ0aqK08wAaBzMtC-6O1bRNRrqze8vwQKykxXuKLkxLvMrcTtgcTi8942czDxlgjX5CV4LoN1yJ9ECLMLPQVy7OFfLZaq-RN36SZHY/s1600/FIL10656.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-PDg3zVBe2IeJRjhVP_vhCIyjnz2ldQOGz4ZANQ0aqK08wAaBzMtC-6O1bRNRrqze8vwQKykxXuKLkxLvMrcTtgcTi8942czDxlgjX5CV4LoN1yJ9ECLMLPQVy7OFfLZaq-RN36SZHY/s400/FIL10656.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">©KatShots Photography<br />
"what should have been chocolate brownies"</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>This is the full, unabridged version of the article. Thanks, Jie, for sharing it with me! - CP</i></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That Everyday Magic</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Jojie.Alcantara.Designs">Jojie Alcantara </a></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Note: this is going to be on a more personal level since the subject happens to be this writer’s classmate since Kindergarten)</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.katshots.com/">KatShots Photography</a> is a product of Chiqui Pineda. Familiar name, you say. This person was born in Davao City, made her way to Manila as a college student and became a professional singer, joined a noontime TV show, launched the immortal song <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qDVNBqFK6L0">“How Did You Know?”</a> still being sung in videoke bars, and performed brilliantly in the lauded musical <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jOfzMP_z4DI">Rama at Sita.</a> It is the same person who chose to slip away from the limelight to settle quietly in Toronto, Canada with her family. Being the artist that she is, she opted to explore another passion close to the heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I begged my Dad for his Pentax Asahi, his own toy from the 60s and began snapping at the siblings, cousins, the entire Pineda (Dad's) and Ongkingco (Mom's) families. I was the family’s official photographer since 12 or 13! I experimented with expensive film <i>pa nun</i>!” she gushes in her normal high spirit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the same way she tackled her singing career, photography for Chiqui was self-taught. She has attended various workshops in Toronto and back in Manila, shadowed and observed photographer friends in action, read tons of materials, and browsed through websites.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I learned Photoshop and Lightroom tricks from YouTube. I have a few photo communities, on Flickr and Facebook (<i>Pinoy Kodakeros</i> being my favorite!) and we exchange information in a very friendly banter. This is how I continue to learn. My love for photography is not diminished by my being a busy mom to three but I admit it's not an easy juggling act. Most of all, I follow my heart. The best recognition I continue to receive are the tears of joy I witness in my clients eyes as they look through finished products whether they are enlargements for their walls or hardbound coffee table books, my best seller. I'm a storyteller at heart and this comes out as naturally in my creations. My photobooks are like my babies because I put so much of myself in each one of them. My heart breaks a little each time I have to part and turn them over to the client.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Photography brings Chiqui maddening happiness and fun, and it seeps not only throughout her being, but spills out into her images of joyful compositions, of subjects in a state of candid glee. Children, for instance, are her foremost favorite since she has honed her skills photographing her three beautiful kids since they were babies. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I like that my subjects can run and tumble and skip around and bump into each other and laugh and cry because of it! Then, a close second would be photographing the parents of these rowdy rascals. Mom and Dad would sooner or later say ‘Since we're having the kids photographed already, let's just jump in along for the ride, shall we? Have grandma and grandpa join, too.’ We invest so much in the grand wedding, the big debut, the momentous graduation when the ordinary day-to-day sacred scenarios count as much, too! I firmly believe it's actually in these moments that we find the most connection, the most meaning and yes, the precious ordinary magic. I specialize in A Day In A Life Series. This is my bestseller, as a photographer/entrepreneur, mainly because I am a storyteller at heart,” she continues with as much fervor as when she is belting out ballads (which you can find in embedded in her blog, by the way).</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjSSSZ6Naq4L0TECposgPBLvszjXVdXZV42p1YGWxA1uZiE57k3XsO6jl36W-zEZk5c5SJP6purGC_kl5Tc7NjR17pEI41-SbcH2gBNF5aPoJBno95nY9u5X7N0uJOYs6z3gEmoXLMCu0/s1600/JOJIE_MBfolio-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjSSSZ6Naq4L0TECposgPBLvszjXVdXZV42p1YGWxA1uZiE57k3XsO6jl36W-zEZk5c5SJP6purGC_kl5Tc7NjR17pEI41-SbcH2gBNF5aPoJBno95nY9u5X7N0uJOYs6z3gEmoXLMCu0/s640/JOJIE_MBfolio-22.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chiqui believes that a photographer’s mood is <i>everything</i> in a shoot. She cannot be instantly chummy with her clients, so she spends several minutes shooting away before the real, unconscious poses comes out. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Mood and feel: It's all transference, baby. Some will say, ‘Ah, don't worry. Fix and just edit later.’ I disagree. Emotion, that's uneditable. The model/clients can be in her tip-top teen glory, all coiffed and gorgeous and still come out blasé, unmoving. Such shiny, perfectly polished photos but dead<i>, kasi na-</i>over ang airbrushing <i>pero wala namang kaluluwa sa mata (no soul in the eyes)</i>! Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my Photoshop, Lightroom and all these tools of our trade. All I'm saying is there's got to be substance, that basic truth in the photo and then layer on the extra love after. That unnamable feeling in the subject's eye, in her body language--even if it's fake <i>sa umpisa</i>. I'm a big believer in ‘Fake it till you make it!’ as far as a photo session is concerned. Even professional actors need a proper warming up. Which is why I shoot at least 200 images before I can really say ‘This is it, here we go-<i>sago</i>!’ I don't know most of my clients. There's that awkward moment of stiff and feeling all silly. After 15-20 minutes, it's real <i>na</i>. You're actually having fun. If I, the photographer, am having fun, my subjects will, too. <i>Bato nalang and hindi matuwa. Yung mga nag-titigas tigasan until the end, hay naku, lugi!”</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhImODtGt0sWUpjvI3C61Iz2iGII84FLiGIhGhZc_Kf_mSc6v7oQO-NQ9E8YOO6SzAepheCWPPGjrlfbNMGCohIC0M25S1_RiIqIwsXkxoWn7TbPuOesdWaco_OSyjcgngj2u_9ja3p0II/s1600/JOJIE_MBfolio-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhImODtGt0sWUpjvI3C61Iz2iGII84FLiGIhGhZc_Kf_mSc6v7oQO-NQ9E8YOO6SzAepheCWPPGjrlfbNMGCohIC0M25S1_RiIqIwsXkxoWn7TbPuOesdWaco_OSyjcgngj2u_9ja3p0II/s320/JOJIE_MBfolio-17.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With acting and musical workshops from her former career, she has been most successful in easing out shyness from her subjects and getting the most introverted to have fun with her. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She confides, “I value spontaneity the most. Of course, there is the initial set up of the scene and I prefer it to be the most comfortable, most familiar of settings for my precious models. Especially with children, I ask the parents to bring familiar objects with them - stuffed animals, favorite blankets, that special Tomas the Train toy – these help put them at ease. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">Light, loads of natural light! Having a nice, even sunlight is the best of all. I prefer my images in fresh color, the more intense, the better.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Being granted precious trust and faith by clients is a privilege for Chiqui. Working primarily with families deals with sensitivity, patience and a large amount of tolerance. She concentrates not so much on big events that is mostly stressful to handle, but prefers to tackle the magic of everyday moments normally taken for granted.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“It continues to bring me lots of fun. Even before I became familiar with the teachings of Joseph Campbell, I was already practicing “Follow your bliss!” Singing is bliss! Photography is bliss! Art and creativity is bliss! Once the initial tension has melted away and we are just old friends chatting, then that's when the real magic begins. Prolonged, everlasting magic because after the photo session, there's the hard copy, the image that can last a lifetime and beyond! Our job, our beloved passion creates immortality. If we can't live forever, at the very least, we can make an attempt at immortalizing the story of one person, one family, one event or moment in time that we want to pass on to the children and generations after. We take for granted this power to immortalize as we get caught up in our day to day grind. Everyday is sacred, ordinary magic, and it’s my calling to remind people about it.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Chiqui’s biggest accomplishment as a photographer is creating unforgettable pieces infused with love and spontaneity, which she refers to as Everyday Magic. Her hope is that her images will carry over through the years and invoke the same feeling when you first looked at them 20-30 years down the road.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“My brand of photography connects with the heart and not just the eye or mind, in the same way that my main goal in my musical performances is to create that feeling deep within. To be able to feel and not just see a photo, basic elements must be present --1) the genuine rapport between photographer and subject and 2) the mutual intention of photographer and subject: to be as real, as unguarded, vulnerable as can be. I use the word intention because there are times when it will feel awkward from beginning to end. The warm vibe just doesn't settle on our skins. It happens. That's okay. The pureness of intention will carry us through.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These are words of quiet, zen wisdom from Mary Cathreen “Chiqui/Kat” Pineda-Azimi who, at a tender age of 7, used to start the daily flag ceremony with a soulful rendition of “Bayang Magiliw” in Stella Maris Academy of Davao that prompted everyone to sing along. She has taken the magic with her since. </span></div>
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My attempt at a self-portrait that got photo-bombed by these two. So very worth it! xox, cp</td></tr>
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ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-10749020346019146032013-05-27T22:46:00.006-07:002013-05-27T23:02:20.449-07:00Day 27 | Tickled Picture-Perfectly Pink!It's a very exciting day at KatShots Photography today...and I have a feeling for the rest of the month!<br />
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All because of this feature in the <a href="http://www.mbpictureperfect.com/article.php?id=475&Cid=3&PPid=1">Manila Bulletin's Picture Perfect</a> for today, May 28, 2013. An excerpt ~<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">When Chiqui Pineda, the voice behind the famous song “How Did You Know,” decided to slip away from the limelight to settle quietly in Toronto, Canada, she opted to explore another passion close to her heart – photography. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">In the same way she tackled her singing career and as a theater performer <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jOfzMP_z4DI">(Rama at Sita)</a>, photography for this native of Davao City was self-taught as she was the family’s official photographer at a young age during special occasions. Chiqui has attended various workshops in Toronto and back in Manila, shadowed and observed photographer friends in action, read tons of materials, and browsed through websites. Eventually she put up <a href="http://www.katshots.com/">KatShots Photography</a> based in Canada. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">For the rest of the article, please click<a href="http://www.mbpictureperfect.com/article.php?id=475&Cid=3&PPid=1"> HERE.</a> </span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Ms. Jojie Alcantara, an excellent artist*, freelance writer and award-winning photographer for almost all the major publications in the Philippines and around the globe and most importantly, my classmate since Kindergarten gave me a most delicious compliment and mega-validation as a photographer! She asked to feature me as Photographer of the Week for her column! My YES couldn't have been more resounding. <i>Echo jud siya hangtod Davao City...abot saTagum pa! :D</i></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Thank you </span>kayo, dai! Like I said, it's a birthday-mother's day-christmas all rolled into one kind of day!!!</div>
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Grateful and ticked perfectly pink.</div>
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Picture-picture,</div>
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Chiqui*Kat</div>
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For more Defining Moment shots, come visit my photo blog :</div>
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<img border="0" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixsdJk3ZF8u4I8WUz02PvCY2GPNTJuBIL0aEUjP7LGkpIbPv7_Vw4ym1oZqsqCCkMzSzOkUWS2OWptR7nwrpzHgURPOpzOl0Ikogz7VhD8aS_XKL7XlR2B3BBoaBIZ_KsDAFxYwfEy8Xg/s640/KatShots.jpg" width="640" /><a href="http://www.katshots.com/">www.katshots.com</a></div>
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<br />ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-9012890739835677672013-05-26T23:12:00.000-07:002013-05-27T23:16:18.233-07:00Day 26 | Taking a breatherThe 100im.perfect.songs project is on Song #30 today.<br />
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Look at that!<br />
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When I started this little project in my corner of the world and literally, in one corner of the house (because this room is actually located in the front south-west corner) I had no idea where it would go. Nor how often.<br />
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Now it's on its 30th and building momentum daily.<br />
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I'm going to take a breath with you and share this ~<br />
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<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F82860239" width="100%"></iframe><br />
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Fell in love with<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sia_Furler"> Sia</a> along the way!<br />
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"Breathe Me" is a 2004 single by Australian singer Sia Furler featured on the album Colour the Small One.</div>
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CREDITS</div>
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Original Singer/Songwriter: Sia Furler</div>
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Piano Instrumental : Jamie Cleaton<br />
[ <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LXjhY5xLhnc" rel="nofollow" style="color: #0066cc; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">www.youtube.com/watch?v=LXjhY5xLhnc</a> ]</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Interstate, 'Lucida Grande', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">Inspiration: Runt + Sia Furler</span><br />
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Ready...Sing! ^_^</div>
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Help, I have done it again<br />
I have been here many times before<br />
Hurt myself again today<br />
And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Interstate, 'Lucida Grande', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
Be my friend<br />
Hold me, wrap me up<br />
Unfold me<br />
I am small and needy<br />
Warm me up<br />
And breathe me</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Interstate, 'Lucida Grande', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
Ouch I have lost myself again<br />
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,<br />
Yeah I think that I might break<br />
I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Interstate, 'Lucida Grande', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 10px;">
Be my friend<br />
Hold me, wrap me up<br />
Unfold me<br />
I am small and needy<br />
Warm me up<br />
And breathe me</div>
ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-46591027470001315322013-05-25T22:26:00.002-07:002013-05-27T23:06:48.893-07:00Day 25 | for the queens in my life<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">©KatShots | Queens Park: Blur | iPhoneography</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've got nothing for you today. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nothing note-worthy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There's just too many moving parts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Too tired. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Too much.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To do.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've got nothing for you today. I think.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But <a href="http://www.elizabethgilbert.com/books/eat-pray-love/">Elizabeth Gilbert of the Eat.Pray.Love</a> fame and the Ideas At The (Sydney Opera) House) does: </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b>"Women are very hard on themselves and I feel my message is to constantly remind them to relax that grip a bit." </b></span></i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">©KatShots | Queens Park: Clear | iPhoneography</td></tr>
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Courage in creativity (and relaxing the grip),<br />
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</span>ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-66135544633114517702013-05-23T19:59:00.001-07:002013-05-27T23:02:04.360-07:00Day 24 | And here's another one* for "Throwback Thursday" and a throwback song, too!<div id="fb-root">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ang big hair! Ack!!! :D | 1992<br />
I was not more than 23 here but, man, the stylist made me look older than my mom! Hahahahahahaha!!!</td></tr>
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The above photo was my very first 'glamour shot' for a newspaper article they were going to write about me. It was a feature on the San Miguel Beer Ad's Centennial Jingle - 100 Years of San Mig - which featured the late great Fernando Poe Jr. as the hero on a horse. I got to sing the jingle. I don't have a recording of it. <i>Sayang.</i><br />
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Anywoohoo, the song for Throwback Thursday is a (not so) old one from 1996. I got to record this pop OPM for my debut self-titled album, Chiqui Pineda. It was written by dear friend, Mr. Vehnee Saturno and his brother Freddie Saturno. Vehnee is one of the reasons I was able to break into the recording world back in Manila in the early 90s and I owe him so much of my earlier success. Salamat,<i> Kuya Vehn!</i><br />
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As most romantic and senti Pinoys know, the one song from my first album, How Did You Know - composed by Ms Cecile Azarcon Inocentes - was promoted first. I wanted it that way and was so glad I picked a winner. It went on to become the huge hit that it is now. This song I'm sharing with you didn't get to see the light of day much. Or so I thought. A few years later, a powerful singer named Jaya re-recorded her own version and it became her very first big hit.<br />
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The rest is history. Here is<a href="http://www.mixcloud.com/Chiquipineda1/tanging-ikaw-a-chiqui-pineda-original/"> Tanging Ikaw</a> by the original singer...me! ;)<br />
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Bakit kailangan puso ay masaktan </div>
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Bago maintindihan ang siyang nararamdaman </div>
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At kahit iwasa'y naro'n sa damdamin</div>
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Yakap at mga halik ay nadarama pa rin </div>
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[CHORUS] </div>
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Dahil tanging ikaw ang siyang lahat </div>
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Nang mawalay ka nang minsa'y
hindi ko matanggap </div>
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Kulang ang sandali pag ika'y wala </div>
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Sadyang kapag wala ka'y
wala rin ang tuwa </div>
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Kung ang 'yong puso'y
may mahal nang iba </div>
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Di pa rin magbabago ang aking nadarama </div>
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Ako ay aasang magbabalik ka pa rin </div>
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Ang iyong pagmamahal
at ang dating pagtingin</div>
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The showbiz years in glam shots. </div>
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Happy Thursday/Friday everyone!</div>
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Courage in creativity,</div>
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*To make up for Days 21 and 24</div>
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ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-6477844761020759422013-05-23T18:50:00.002-07:002013-05-25T22:28:04.088-07:00Day 23 | The Gigil Group | Throwback Thursday<div id="fb-root">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gigilesque #1 | 2008</td></tr>
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Tim Horton's<br />
12:56PM<br />
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It's Throwback Thursday and I'm jumping in. <br />
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The photos in this blogpost make me so very happy. They're from a time when the kids were still crazy about mommy's big camera and her <i>gigil</i> kind of attention. A time when they didn't know words like "You can let go of my hand now, Mom."<br />
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Just in case you're in the same strange Tween Town or *gasp*, in the dark and often dreary Teen City. Or perhaps barely survived it and you'd like a moment to reminisce about the good old days of Cuteness and Cuddles as I am now. I get all teary looking at these babies of mine. They're growing up at warp-speed and into a different kind of species altogether.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">O, 6 + J, 4 | 2008</td></tr>
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I remember we just moved to this house then. We're in the master bedroom, on the big bed and trying a new remote for my Canon 40D, just hamming it up for the camera that's standing on a tripod a few feet away.<br />
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This is why I love being a <a href="http://www.katshots.com/">mamarazzi/photographer</a>. Looking at these images brings back the warm, fuzzy, tug-at-my-mommy-heart feelings. Like Myrna said: We sometimes (<i>many</i> times for me!) forget the reason behind the endless lunch boxes, seemingly futile sermons from the front seat and all the driving around picking up and dropping off (not-so) little peeps. But it's there. We feel it. We <i>know</i> it. Even when we sometimes forget it.</div>
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Oh, how they change! I used to just grin and bear it when the more experienced parents used to tell me: "<i>Enjoy it, Chiqui. It's going to go by so fast, you just watch.</i>" while I complained about another bum-washing and I'm thinking to myself "<i>It's <b>not </b>going by fast enough.</i>"</div>
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Oh, how they adored my kisses and hugs so much so that one even thought I was <b>edible!</b></div>
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I can only sigh my very well rehearsed mommy sigh and look just a little bit longer at precious photos just like these.<br />
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Happy Throwback Thursday, dear reader! May we all remember to enjoy the sacred everyday of our lives.<br />
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And here's a song by Nicole Nordeman that has saved me many, many times most especially during the most turbulent flights of life. Thank you, Joey, for sharing this song with me.<br />
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Courage in creativity,<br />
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ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-4975747541198436672013-05-20T21:12:00.002-07:002013-05-21T13:31:08.893-07:00Day 20 | revived. renewed. restored. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Main Street, Milton, ON<br />
©KatShots | May 18, 2013</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Hello po! </span><br />
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I'm writing as naturally as I know how. Non-stop. Keeping my hands moving across the keyboard. I only have my photos, images I took this weekend, to guide me. I trust that what I write and share will suffice. I remember the practice and remind myself that this is enough. <br />
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This is a photo taken outside the Thai House Cuisine. The A family just had the best thai food in Milton for lunch last Sunday. As of this photo, we're all walking from Froyo, the self-serve yogurt joint that was all abuzz the last time I visited Manila. It was all over! Malls, grocery stores and street corners! Just how much yogurt does one Filipino community need? I wonder if it's still the craze there now.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">©KatShots | May 20, 2013</td></tr>
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Today, Monday, I wrote by the lake. This is what came up for me:<br />
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<span style="color: #232323; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">i'm writing by my</span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ikat115/sets/72157602336921903/with/4110696463/" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"> loonie lake</a><span style="color: #232323; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">. i have my wireless keyboard on my lap, ipad's on the blue bench armrest.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">i need a folding table, or at the very least, one of those lap thingies to put everything in. nah. table is better, one of those lightweight IKEA ones. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">writing here is new. yes, i've (hand)written here before but this is a first for my gadgets.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">peaceful and calmness here. the lake is placid. walking ladies in their colorful saris. the dark green bushes are lush with spring. i am momentarily alarmed at the clicking sound in one of them, like an insect clicking its heels (insects have heels?) as it is mating season, i suspect. no, not cricket but something else…snake? ack! i try to calm my breathing. i am fine. i lift my right leg off the ground, one is already tucked from underneath me. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">©KatShots | May 20, 2013</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">i hear fireworks in the distance. it is victoria day after all. i try to find a comfortable position but can't.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">i'm leaning on my left arm tucked into the bench and there is no better position than this.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">i guess i can type sideways. i try that. my keyboard is on my lap in front of me and iPad on my left side. its disorienting but i do it anyway. i don't need to be looking at the page.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">duh. this is great! i am typing blind. i can do that. something inside tells me take a break and grab my bread sticks, to take another sip from my travel tea mug. i don't get bread sticks. i sip some warm green tea instead. i hear yelling, kids, from a short distance. i imagine them walking their dog. i see them coming out from the lake area. no dog. just grandparents and two kids. i'm watching the family of four, the girl is holding a red rubber ball,</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">all in shorts and shirts and a spring in their step. i have my windbreaker on. i need it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Renew. Anew. </span></div>
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This next few days will be all about refining, recalibrating, reorganizing. Spring is all about cleaning out the old and bringing in the new. It will be painful especially for a packrat like me. I've got organized chaos (still chaos) all over the house. My <a href="http://www.myglorybox.com/">Wruddy</a> will teach me how to use eBay this coming June. I'm excited to put pre-loved up for sale very soon!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Today at sunset. <br />
©KatShots | May 20, 2013</td></tr>
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More from the Wow-day SunDay @ Milton...</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Off of Main Street, Downtown, Milton</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mill Pond, Milton, ON</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One glorious Sun*Day<br />
Mill Pond, Milton, ON</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;">The <br />BIG L❤ves<br /><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">of my life<br />Mill Pond, Milton</span></span><br />
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Courage in Creativity,<br />
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<br />ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-72246818900851126272013-05-18T21:52:00.002-07:002013-05-20T22:01:53.969-07:00Day 18 | one unforgettable week<div id="fb-root"></div>
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My best effort belting out this classic ballad originally by Nat King Cole.<br />
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I'm still not 100% recovered. There's a tiny bit of scratchiness in my throat. I'm able to do a mellow, <i>un-birit </i>song for you! You'll probably hear the squeakiness in there.<br />
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Happy to give you the best that I can for now.<br />
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Thanks to my J for the song suggestion. <br />
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Here's something soft and mellow and hopefully not too <i>forgettable</i>! :D<br />
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<div class="fb-like" data-href="http://www.chiquipineda.blogspot.com" data-send="false" data-layout="button_count" data-width="450" data-show-faces="true"></div>ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-70866187210759820212013-05-17T21:13:00.002-07:002013-05-19T08:29:37.985-07:00Day 17: Wow<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Npe4N1VLmn4/UZb-bIqklYI/AAAAAAAABgk/iSP2AyNzU90/s1600/BEA23F48-2EDA-4E54-8D06-F647324AC6B3.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Npe4N1VLmn4/UZb-bIqklYI/AAAAAAAABgk/iSP2AyNzU90/s400/BEA23F48-2EDA-4E54-8D06-F647324AC6B3.JPG" width="400" /></a>ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-41675606668258561772013-05-16T19:33:00.004-07:002013-05-19T08:30:15.062-07:00Day 16: Superfriends<br />
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When I was a kid in Davao City, we had limitless TV time. A buffet of soaps, lots and lot of soap operas with the endless drama and slapping and yelling and murder. Always murder. Secret, unsolvable murder, the reason being so they can bring that character to life later. Some woman stabbed to death in Episode 20 always ends up coming to life one or two seasons down the line.<br />
<a name='more'></a>Dallas, anyone? How about Dynasty? How can I forget Flor de Luna?!? And our favorite AnnaLiza! Amusing plot lines and it got all of us hooked! </blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_TQp4Gau0H6_r3vh_yCeqbazM3rC3uv1ncJ3pZ4q9jne3uvKdCNeYd5t3PHtO78xFcR4jwNU_rhOBiBNRfynfe2n5XmfPemCs2fpMGYZNED-FjQX_r87cYNuSnMraoUGTAk9pdaNTDHc/s1600/300px-BirdandSnuffy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_TQp4Gau0H6_r3vh_yCeqbazM3rC3uv1ncJ3pZ4q9jne3uvKdCNeYd5t3PHtO78xFcR4jwNU_rhOBiBNRfynfe2n5XmfPemCs2fpMGYZNED-FjQX_r87cYNuSnMraoUGTAk9pdaNTDHc/s320/300px-BirdandSnuffy.jpg" width="254" /></a>Then there was Sesame Street with my favorite characters: Cookie Monster, Big Bird, Oscar the Grouch and darling Mr. Snuffleupagus, whose first name is Aloysius. My lovable Mr. Aloysius Snuffleupagus who was sort of like a superhero because he was <i>invisible</i>. </blockquote>
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But our pick of all the shows, my personal favorite was this one with the Japanese superheroes called Star Rangers! Just the mere mention of the title spoken in my head gives me joyful chills right now. My two sisters, Leslie and Joey always fought over Star Four with me. She was the only girl with the nice matching pink outfit. My brother had four male stars to pick from and we had one! I just clicked on a YouTube <a href="http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=3dZ0BEQdg5g">clip</a> of Star Rangers dubbed in English from the 70s. This made me smile. Someone commented “Godfather of all rangers!” <i> Talaga! </i>These super friends gave me permission to imagine myself a superhero, too. In pink! My siblings and I would run around the backyard yelling "Star One...Star Four!" and with our makeshift capes conquered our world right there in Ladislawa Village, Davao City. Star Four always saved the day. MY Star Four. That was if my two sisters didn't get dibs on pinky.</blockquote>
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Today I blog about a different kind of superhero, one who has super powers, yes, a lot of it, but not so much to fight the regular bad guys but are here to raise, restore, rejuvenate and make you ROFL during times when all you want to do is ROFD. (D for dying and no, not from laughing either.) On this blog post, I'd like to shine a bright light on them, just like Batman's big, bright bat-signal in the sky! I'm hiding them behind superhero names because, obviously, they need to protect their superhero identities. :) Ginormous super thank yous go to my <a href="http://www.myglorybox.com/">Wruddy </a>who set the tone from her Day 13. I'm giving her the biggest compliment by making her gaya-gaya.</blockquote>
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So, ladies and gents, without further ado, a roll call of my Superheroes, Part 1. Because there are many and it needs at least three, four, five parts to cover them all!</blockquote>
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<b>Superhero Numero Uno: </b>Let's call my first super friend <b>SheeMa.</b> Derived from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sheena,_Queen_of_the_Jungle">Sheena, Queen of the Jungle</a>, who is the female counterpart of Tarzan. Sheena has ability to communicate with wild animals and learned how to survive and live in the jungle. SheeMa is the same way, though not so much talk with animals (though maybe in secret she speaks with the butterflies in her garden?) but communicates with so much God-centered proficiency with her (wild)young and with her (wild)friends. She cares for them/us with the fierce protection a wild mama tiger gives her cubs, thus, you guessed it, the Ma in SheeMa. She has a way of getting her point across, always blunt and brutally frank, but always with so much motherly/sisterly love that the sting is quickly forgotten. Sheena an expert in fighting with knives, spears, and bows, and improvised with makeshift weapons. SheeMa is the same way but with scissors, glue guns, knitting needles and kitchen gadgets i.e. KitchenAid blenders, George Foreman grills and automatic can openers. SheeMa and I have come a long way, a very long way back since university school days. Her fierce love and loyalty for her friends and family is some kind of super power that continues to save me and others. <i>“God knows best so rest easy, Chiqui!”</i> is the best power line SheeMa has passed on to me. For that I am forever grateful. I love you, SheeMa.</blockquote>
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<b>Superhero Numero Dos: </b>This one is definitely <b>Cat Woman(CW)</b> all the way. My shero #2 is a NewYorker through and true. Yes, she loves, nay, <em>adores</em> cats. She once had three of her own. She is as sly and sleek and sexy as a feline and has that cold persona on the outset. But, unlike the famous Cat Woman character who is cold and menacing, my CW, on the other hand all warmth and juiciness and will ply you with pawing affection, adoration and full acceptance. You know in your heart that CW will never, ever judge you. I was very lucky to have come across the path of this muse of mine during a time when my own battery pack was so low, almost empty. She pumped me with kick-ass knowledge on the art of writing, something we both love, and a sense of shut-the-front-door demeanor towards the nay-sayers in my life. The high-octane Nu Yawker sauciness and biatchiness she possesses reawakened my own sense of Me-ness. No, not meanness that self-assuredness is sometimes mistaken for. This super shero is misunderstood, alright. But, hey, guess what. She doesn't give a flying fizz!. That's her number one superpower. <i>“You care about other people's opinion too much and you'll lose yourself, Kat. Do you!”</i> she reminds me all the time. For that I am grateful. I love you, Cat Woman.</blockquote>
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<b>Superhero Numero Tres:</b> This one's male. A feminine male because, yup, he's gay. Happy AND gay. Let's call him <b>Leafy Fly, </b>a play on his real name<b>. </b> Life's way too serious already and I appreciate it when witty waffling with some wonder friends happens. There's no lack of witty banter with this wonderful winged creature. This one is quite special because he was able to somehow unlock the superpowers in me that I thought were a goner! He got me performing and singing again and in such a super powerful way, too. Opera, mama. <i>Opera! </i>He is an amazing singer/performer and never fails to make your heart and soul take flight when he sings.<i> </i>He can also be quite catty, just like Cat Woman and will not hesitate to put you in your place with a quick swat of his tongue. If you make the sorry mistake of showing lack of groundedness, a misplaced whininess or lack of grace, you get that slap in a short string of snappy words and you are put to right faster than you can say <em>Superfly! </em>LeafyFly is super loving, too. Endowed with a very sensitive heart, he can connect and empathize with you in just one flap of his powerful wings. <i> “You have so much love and light in you, Chiqui. Use this to touch and elevate other people's lives; use this to elevate your life and fly high!” </i>are his words. For that I am grateful. I love you, LeafyFly.</blockquote>
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On the next round of Superfriend features, I shall continue with three more heroes in my life. Their pseudonyms: The Challenger, Major Reeses Pieces, and Victorious Venus! </blockquote>
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Until then, be a super friend! You're a super hero, to one or to many. </blockquote>
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Know it or not, you are, you are! </blockquote>
Love your superfriend on the page, Chiqui*Kat <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSlRGPmtIIFDrPEBMCuu71c5ZL6iTP2g7caMy6cylsFxUM1UgJdKAhjWzVTbR_9QKPxS773600htN70DWE6qO6uY6tuT7YFqhnbJuBsPdqgqgi4uyhm4roeb9HAJMfplnIyhu3DKIoNPg/s1600/chiqui+siggy+small+smile.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="94" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSlRGPmtIIFDrPEBMCuu71c5ZL6iTP2g7caMy6cylsFxUM1UgJdKAhjWzVTbR_9QKPxS773600htN70DWE6qO6uY6tuT7YFqhnbJuBsPdqgqgi4uyhm4roeb9HAJMfplnIyhu3DKIoNPg/s200/chiqui+siggy+small+smile.png" width="200" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">[Note: Leafy Fly is a drawing of Leafy Nexi Fly adoptable taken from <a href="http://abigail94.deviantart.com/art/Leafy-Nexi-Fly-Adoptable-323240568">Abigale94</a> of DeviantArt</span></blockquote>
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ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-64009631821251407072013-05-15T09:44:00.000-07:002013-05-27T23:07:40.785-07:00Day 15: 5ive in ONE<div id="fb-root">
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<b>Dearest Reader, </b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><b><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); color: #3c3c3c; font-family: Avenir-Roman; font-size: 17px; text-align: left;">I <strike>failed</strike> chose not to publish the past couple of days but continued to write wherever/whenever I could, groggy </span>in bed most of the time, addressing the pieces to my ever-patient writing buddy who put up with all my unbridled existential angst. (Erm, that was one of the conditions of the wruddyship, by the way. I suspect that the exchange of the past few days is making her think twice!) I followed my own rules of writing practice and stuck it out with "keeping the pen moving, no editing, just let it rip!" with the Wruddy. For the purposes of this PG-13 blog, I edited out the cussing. :p Below is joy*full proof that Crappy To Happy way is still very much alive and well in these parts! ~ CP</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); color: #3c3c3c; font-family: Avenir-Roman; font-size: 17px; text-align: left;"><b>May 10, Friday</b> |</span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); color: #3c3c3c; font-family: Avenir-Roman; font-size: 17px; text-align: left;"> 11: 48PM i have this massively swollen itchy-burning throat, my head feels like a lead balloon, my body is jello mixed with cement. the weeklong marathon<a href="http://chiquipineda.blogspot.ca/2013/05/day-6-stops-and-starts-and-rinse-and.html"> course</a> has done a number on me. no doubt about that. i'm willfully consciously following writing rule #1: keep the hand moving. it's not easy. i'm distracted with sol and jack pingponging with phone calls, misplaced mobile phones and instructions to open the door for when he comes home from the bbq</span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); color: #3c3c3c; font-family: Avenir-Roman; font-size: 17px; text-align: left;"> at mom and dad's. the kids and i missed that. drat and double drat, i hate you, cough!</span></span><br />
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billion dollar question is: did i pass the test*? meh! who cares. right now i don't care that much. it's not a big deal for me to pass or fail this. i know i'll make it in other ways if this doesn't pan out. i know it'll be the step to the next step. i've always trusted in that. i know i put my best effort in this whole week for the step that was needed for the choice to pursue the next thing. there's always a next thing. the day there isn't one simply means i'm a goner.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Goodbye, AtriaII. Thank you for being a beautiful building with a nice café, particularly t</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">o Ms Young, owner and cashier at Treats who after I said "Goodbye and thank you!" to, gave me two peanut butter cookies - treats from Treats! - to have with my mint tea that afternoon of the finals. Kindness. It makes for the sweetest treat of all.</span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> You surely made the week's ordeal much more bearable for one returning student. </span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><span style="color: #3c3c3c;"><b>May 11, Saturday</b> | </span></span></span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">i am crying. not just misty-eyed like i usually am after reading, watching, experiencing something touching. i am crying tears of gratitude. from feeling relief that the week's ordeal is over. from feeling blessed for having loving, thoroughly caring people in my life. for feeling feeling kawawa. being sick always makes me so. feeling…what else am i feeling? confused. scared. worried. there are so many moving parts in my life right now. (when has it ever been different ha, chiquita?) but i will choose, <i>choose</i> to focus on the most positive of the moment and that is how grateful i feel for having a <a href="http://chiquipineda.blogspot.ca/2013/05/hallelujah-anyway.html">wruddy</a>! <a href="http://www.myglorybox.com/">Charina</a>, you accept and appreciate me, i feel and know you do, no matter what. it's a blessing a very BIG blessing that you didn't know the CP brand before we met on IG. that would have colored our writing a lot. but then again, who flipping gives a flip, right? it is me! the CP brand is and will always be part of me. sometimes i talk and think like it's a purse or package of ramen (now where the heck did that come from?!? hand moving, keep it moving!) that i can store away in the cellar. these are all parts of me and i need to stop putting labels on myself/selves like i can turn them on and off. grateful. very grateful</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>May 12, Sunday</i> | </b>Note to the Azimi Family : The big Mother's Day Celebration has been postponed this year due to the nasty cough and cold virus floating around our house. Thank you very much for the sweet breakfast, Oonabella. (Ms O and the Bunsoy are done with their virus ordeals. Ms O and B brought the nasty bug in!) You are the most affectionate little-big girl in my world! The big boys are down for the count as well. Let's all sleep this off, shall we? Tomorrow's another day. Tomorrow we whip out our OHIP cards and get ourselves to a walk in clinic. Praying it will be much better than today. Amen.</span><br />
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</span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lp_FUFeNyP4/UZO0UJtBigI/AAAAAAAABVk/gwTp7vBDdKU/s1600/P*+-+5" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lp_FUFeNyP4/UZO0UJtBigI/AAAAAAAABVk/gwTp7vBDdKU/s200/P*+-+5" width="200" /></span></a><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: inherit;"><b>May 13, Monday</b> | Nope. My prayer for better has gone unanswered. Ignored completely. Today, not only am I hacking out lungs and vocal chords - I speak like I a geriatric Marilyn Monroe, to the joy and celebration of my husband and kids who are tired of my Alto-soprano yelling - today I have the blasted Pink Eye. <i>Sa ato pa, Sore Eyes!</i> More like sorry eyes, really. I am feeling so sorry for my <i>kawawa</i> self. What is this thing that my body is trying to tell me? Well, if I listen intently I can hear the words <i>Vacation</i> and <i>Spa</i> and <i>go</i>-<i>lie-on-a-beach-somewhere, </i>preferably with white sands and 24 hour room service. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: inherit;">Halleluyah for PD (professional development) days where the public school systems of our district decide the teachers declare a no-school day, read: a break from the kids! If they can, so can I! So, more sleeping folks! Dr. K at the walk-in has ordered me to take 5ml of that ruddy red relief. Ok, guys. You're on your own. Mommy's going to bed at 3PM and I'll see you all in the morning, pink eye allowing. Bah! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>May 14, Tuesday</b> | It's the first time that I am able to get out of bed without having to hold my lead-balloon head up with both hands. I am no longer hacking this morning. The good doctor with the good medicine did the job! For $30.55 dollors worth of narcotics, it better! My eye has miraculously cleared up, too. Like Dr. K said, it's related to the cough virus and it's most likely a 24 hour thing. He was right! Thank you, Dr. K. I am strong enough to invite my son to go for a quick walk, he suggested we bike instead. We decided to go to the park and swing for a bit. We needed the sunshine. By God do we need the sun rays on us. So we brave the cold, it is cold in Toronto again, like single digits cold as if springtime was never here. We had to put on our downy jackets and gloves, GLOVES in the middle of May. The kids and I have a name for it: Crazy Canada Climate or CCC for short.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>May 15, Wednesday</b> | The worst of my ordeal is over. One full, flipped-up week . My body isn't as strong enough just yet to go pump iron at the gym or run laps at the oval. I will take it easy. I will listen, listen very intently to my body and I will know when it time to fire up the engines again. </span><br />
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Thank you so much for keeping me company, dearest reader. And most especially to my dearest Wruddy, for taking me as I am, crap on crap and that's a wrap! </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Photo by fellow slugger, S. We been doing coughing duets lately. Definitely better today, thank you, Lord.</span></td></tr>
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Courage, always, COURAGE IN CREATIVITY,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Chiqui*Kat</span><br />
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</b><b>UP-date #1: </b>As of this writing, I just found out that my sweetheart of a highschool amiga, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Jojie.Alcantara.Designs">Ms. Jojie Alcantara</a>, who is now a big time freelance journalist and a feature writer for the Manila Bulletin has asked her editor to have me featured in her <a href="http://www.mb.com.ph/article.php?id=3&sid=24#.UZO6nZUWvjw">Picture Perfect</a> column! Sigh. This is like Bright Lights from heaven, a miracle message in a bottle of the highest octane. Moral of the story: Someone's still lookin' out for ya, lovelies. No matter how down you feel in mind and body and spirit, just "keep that hand moving" and you'll see Lights from way Yonder sooner or later! Now on to focusing on that light for now. Updates on that feature to surely follow here!</span></div>
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<br /><b>*UP-date #2:</b> On the Introduction to the Canadian Mortgage Industry course exam: I passed! I passed! As of may 14, the CAAMP educators have sent the official email. I passed the course and am now on my way to becoming a certified mortgage specialist. On to phase 2, actual hand-on experience and shadowing the best of the best at the office! Hello, Day Job, here I come! So help me, God. </span><br />
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<b>And up...up...and away we go!!!</b></span></div>
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ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-64720597608573629482013-05-11T21:05:00.000-07:002013-05-23T20:21:08.233-07:00Day 10 *insert brown gloppy emoticon with eyes here*Today I feel like cr*p. <br />
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It started last Wednesday: full-on scratchy, itchy, raw throat, lead-head and achy jello-like body which almost make me not want to continue with cr*p course. I still did my exam at 1-3 pm in the afternoon today. By 4pm, post exam, I felt the full on flu-like symptoms.<br />
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So I'll stop right here. Besides, typing on an iPhone at 1:52am trying to catch up to the dailies is beginning to feel rather pathetic. On top of feeling like sh*t, and as hippie Steve, the oldest student in the class said today because the review was going on for too long:<br />
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"This can't be good for the chi, man!"<br />
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I will spare yours and mine this heaviness for now. <br />
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Goodnight from my flu-ish quarters.<br />
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Tomorrow's going to be better! *fingers crossed*<br />
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<br />ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-58230089566239828342013-05-11T19:49:00.000-07:002013-05-23T20:20:49.842-07:00Day 9 | Dearest Mom | a mamay's day special short feature<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGkoM-EbyohHCn4o_vsRa8FbXzmByt9qwRXoJSHl9zFp_BDzFJFRTm7UQWp5x1XposF4mqt1PnyRTq57hMThZhadthuvJ0bVsqPhhC_yTaZVdnCto08Sd1_400gEp1zC50J01zBJYW28/s1600/2046280310_9da0f09144_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHGkoM-EbyohHCn4o_vsRa8FbXzmByt9qwRXoJSHl9zFp_BDzFJFRTm7UQWp5x1XposF4mqt1PnyRTq57hMThZhadthuvJ0bVsqPhhC_yTaZVdnCto08Sd1_400gEp1zC50J01zBJYW28/s400/2046280310_9da0f09144_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Pineda Family, Circa 1975</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;">I know I don't say it often enough, Mamay, but I think it every single day. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;">I think and feel it when I tuck them in at night with chapter 3 of the book of the month, right now it is Jonathan Livingston Seagull, or when giving yet another hug or in freshening up the 7th cool compress on a feverish child; when all I really want to do is just crawl into my own bed and sleep for an entire week; when I have to do yet another chore on already overflowing to-do list, when I put up with yet another kid's tantrum or tween angst topped with a "No, Mom, please stop hugging/kissing/making gigil on me because it's embarrassing!" Deep little pinches that make me think, what is this all for and about again? These are the times that I think of how you have given me, given us your four kids so much of yourself. This is when the answer comes shining through, the clear purpose of motherhood for me: This is my way of thanking my mom, for giving back and showing her and myself and my God how truly grateful I am for having a mom who gave us herself, her all, her heart and soul. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;">Happy Mother's Day to the most loving and absolutely beautiful mom in the world for me! I love you and miss you so much, Mamay. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom in high school, 1960</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: #fafbfb; color: #4e5665; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;">Love, your eldest and favorite absentee daughter, Chiqui</span>ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-30071919054541035782013-05-09T16:24:00.001-07:002013-05-23T20:19:22.822-07:00Day 8 | 7 Ways To Help Stay Creative Daily | My Personal Practice<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 4, AtriaII, Toronto</td></tr>
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[This post covers Days 8 + 9; wrote the draft on one day and edited the next.]<br />
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I'm writing this post on the go. I'm sitting here in the Treats cafeteria on the ground floor of the AtriaII, having left the Intro to the Canadian Mortgage Industry class a bit earlier. I stepped out fifteen minutes before break time so I can write at least a quick draft to this post.<br />
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Choices, creative choices. I've said it many times and I will say it again : <i>Creativity is a choice.</i> It isn't easy. It never is. Like right now. The more obvious choice, at best, is to study for tomorrow's exam. Or at my lazy worse, watch Louis CK or Bill Burr on Netflix. But as with the most vital things in our lives - where to live, who to love, how to feel, I get to choose.<br />
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This habit of choosing to create may come easier to some, not because they were born that way but because it has become a way of life. It's always a battle for me. If you've been reading this blog for some time, you'll notice this by now. The act of making the choice to create is also a muscle. It is a muscle that I choose to strengthen, thus this 30 Day Journey and this blog and the 100songs and so on and so forth.<br />
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If I know one of the most basic truths of being human, it is this: <i>Everybody is creative.</i> For the very purpose of this post, I'll assume that we agree 100% on this premise. Also, I'll assume that you have made the choice, The Choice to live like the creative being that you are. <br />
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Now the big question: <i>What now? </i><br />
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As I've once declared my life mission: To help show, mainly by my example, that one can always live creative, here I am about to share my personal practice once again. Some of the reason why I LOVE the practice / way of life is because 1) It has literally saved my sanity countless times. 2) It brings so much true JOY in my life and some of the happiest people I know in this world are the ones who create from their hearts and 3) It's simply so stinkin fun to create! That is, after you've gotten over the gremlins of resistance and you're unstoppable.<br />
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For simplicity, I'll be referring to both my writing/singing practice. But it can very well apply to anything that has to do with making something out of nothing.<br />
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So you've chosen to practice creativity. What am I to do in the day to day of it? Here are seven things I personally swear by. They are my tried and tested. They are backed by years of wisdom from other wise teachers, gurus, coaches who have done it in their lives, too. They work for me. Try them out and adjust accordingly.<br />
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<b>1) Keep it moving. </b><br />
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In writing, no matter where, how, when; on your desk during lunch break, on a long or short bus/subway/car ride, in the cafeteria mid-course as I'm doing right now, just keep it moving. In singing, do it daily. Pop songs, classics, rock, it doesn't matter. The mix of songs on my SoundCloud are so eclectic. I don't care. I do it for the practice. Not to market to a particular musical group. Worry not about how good, bad, appropriate, inappropriate. This is The Practice. As <a href="http://nataliegoldberg.com/about/">Teacher Nat </a>always says: Athletes seem to have no problem with this concept of regular practice. Neither should we creatives. <br />
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<b>2) Buddy-up!</b><br />
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If regular practice is the first rule, this is a close second for me. The energy that one can create with the <a href="http://www.myglorybox.com/">right person</a> is priceless. I have walking buddies, singing buddies, writing buddies here and all over the world. They push and pull you when you need it the most. Then you return the favor when they need it, too, always in the spirit of keeping it moving.<br />
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<b>3) Ship and share!</b> <br />
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This one's a tough one. Especially for us shy, introverted types. It's hard to press the "Return/Enter" button, to mail the envelope, to post the photo, share the recipe because we are sensitive beings and feel so connected to our work. But we hear it all the time: sharing is caring. It's not only for the one at the receiving end. It's more for the one giving. At my age and with my experience of being wife and mom, I've come to realize that this old concept of "It's better to give than receive." is actually true. In sharing your work, you strengthen the creative muscle, you let it breathe, get alive,grow in the world. This is valuable. As <a href="http://www.sethgodin.com/sg/books.asp">Seth Godin</a> says, art isn't art if it is festering, hiding-in-the-<i>baül</i> work. Art needs to ship, be seen, connect.<br />
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<b>4) Say 'Yes' more.</b><br />
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Resist letting out the skeptic, suspicious, snob <a href="http://chiquipineda.blogspot.ca/2013/01/monster.html">gremlin</a> living within. I've learned that we can't kill these monsters altogether. We can only choose to quiet them. So as soon as they rear their slimy, ugly heads, push them back down. Consciously, willfully, with full conviction. Then open your eyes and look at new ideas, fresh concepts, ways of being that are different from yours with an open mind. At the very least, consider them.<br />
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<b>5) Get the body-mind thing in gear.</b><br />
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For a very long time I thought it was all about the mind-soul connection. Creativity is mostly soul-centered, that much is true. But my soul still resides in a body so when my body feels like crap, my soul's trapped in there and has nowhere to go. While I am here on this physical plane, I need to make friend with this amazing vehicle that I have been given. <a href="http://chiquipineda.blogspot.ca/2013/03/push.html">I enrolled in the gym.</a> I took up running. I started choosing better foods, <a href="http://chiquipineda.blogspot.ca/2013/01/12-things-it-feels-so-good-to-connect.html">more greens,</a> less meat, more fluids. I choose to take the best care of my body, learn the best ways to nourish and fuel it, continue educating myself in the study of managing this vessel of Energy because without energy, The Work suffers, too.<br />
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<b>6) Set short term goals for the practice.</b><br />
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I remember being a swimmer when I was a young kid. My mom started us young, bless her heart, and we would go to our coach, Tita Ressie after school, three times a week, twice on weekdays after school and once on the weekends. Coach Ressie would make us do laps, twenty minutes, non-stop to start. Then bubbles. Then another twenty, this time sprint. I hated these laps. They made my lungs feel like they'd burst. We moved from the pool at the resort to the olympic sized one in the sports arena. I was given well-measured goals and very gradually got stronger and stronger. One of the experiences of my young life as it taught me discipline and showed me that measured pain was necessary to make progress possible. This experience got me the discipline to learn golf where I excelled and was able to join non-professional tournaments, some which I actually won and the confidence to become a licensed scuba diver (PADI). <br />
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<b>7) Get out there! </b><br />
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Get some air, sunshine, new information, new friends, new trends. Infuse your body and mind with moving, flowing, light-infused energy.<br />
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So there you go, creative folks! Not bad for an on-the-go post. I smile inwardly and give myself a pat on the shoulder. It didn't take me that long after all. And this after I already gave my "Excuse Slip" to miss today's post to which she ever so kindly gave me the permission to do so. I love your gentle persuasion, Wruddy. Your subtle 'reverse psychology' tactic, which I suspect you didn't even know you were doing, worked its magic!<br />
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7:02PM. Time to study...and go! See you tomorrow for the update on the exam! Angels of study, be with me, thank yous and AMEN.<br />
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As always, in the spirit of imperfect shipping and sharing,<br />
Chiqui*Kat<br />
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<br />ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-42274700846264619462013-05-07T21:36:00.003-07:002013-05-07T21:37:16.596-07:00Day 7 | Blooming ka.<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5Y7mWv4Tf0A/UYnWDb8jYjI/AAAAAAAABQE/fdGafBSyUqk/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5Y7mWv4Tf0A/UYnWDb8jYjI/AAAAAAAABQE/fdGafBSyUqk/s640/image.jpg" width="549" /></a>ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-64414032855990922442013-05-06T21:04:00.003-07:002013-05-08T18:43:56.118-07:00Day 6 | stop and start; rinse and repeat<div style="text-align: left;">
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I'm taking a break. I have to. I require it! I grab a handful of pistachios, walk around the room, stretch my legs, back, arms and guzzle down half a bottle of water. I'm glad I went for that run at sunset. </div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I'm in the middle of studying Chapters 1, 2 and 3 of my week/month/year's(!) bible. The 500+ page-thick: Introduction to the Canadian Mortgage Industry. Yes, I am studying to be a Mortgage Specialist and I'm attending the week-long workshop on everything that has to do with the financing industry.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Can I be completely honest with you here? I am in over my head with this crash course! I knew it was challenging but man, is this challenging AND difficult! Eight hours after Day 1 was over, my brain hurt. The 20+ year break from study isn't helping either. After Joe P. our instructor who looks very much like an older Danny Zuko (John Travolta's character in Grease) who was actually entertaining while educating us on such a tedious topic, I think I only got, at best, 10% of the lecture. My <a href="http://www.myglorybox.com/">Wruddy</a> - short for Writing Buddy - reminded me ever so gently (like an axe gently cracking a slab of wood in half) “Don't you have an Economics degree?” </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Go ahead, woman. Rub it in. Pfft!!!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I never really wanted to take up Economics at the State University in the first place. It was a second, no, THIRD choice after Computer Science (everyone wanted in as it was the hottest course then) and Business Administration (another high-demand course at the State U). I ended up in Econ. But, see, the secret longing of my heart was to get into the Arts: Fine Arts or MassCommunications but for practical, rated PG, (meaning Mom and Dad approved) reasons, I ended up taking a quasi-business course. Little did I know that I'd have good use of this course over 20 years later!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My sister(in law), M, is one of the top mortgage brokers in Toronto. Her company just received a couple of awards last April for excellence in the field. She has been asking me to consider working with her for some time now. Knowing that I have a lot of connections in the Filipino community, she strongly feels I could be of good service and promised to help me with the more complex Mathematical *<em style="-webkit-transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px); border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px;">shudder*</em> points to ponder.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">After a couple of years of watching her business grow from a one-woman operation to a full house of experts, advisers and consultants, I'm fully convinced that I can once again take out my Economics brain (more like brain-ette as it's so miniscule) from hibernation and put it to good use. Okay, I'm shortchanging myself here. I actually didn't do that bad (lest future clients are reading this post!) I did graduate with a 2.25 average in Economics which is the equivalent of a 83-85. Not bad coming from the State U and from who claims she hated the course.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Truth be told, it's time for me to accept that a) I need, no, I WANT to help the bana. This is the right thing to do: Be my Big Girl, Good(badass)Self now; b) the kids are independent enough and don't need to hang on to mommy's apron strings any longer; and c) C'mon, Chikay, it's time to get out there in the real world and have.some.fun. Who am I kidding? Me, myself and I, that's who. The kids have moved on and don't need mommy as much in the same way anymore. One of them even asked, no, begged me to “…please don't come and help in the field trip this time, okay, Mom? I get embarrassed when you<i> gigil</i> me in front of my classmates. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Yet another bittersweet moment in a long list of stories. How about that other time when the little guy, J, had to take me around the corner, away from where his classmate's were lining up one morning, so he could give me a goodbye kiss out of sight. What am I, your secret girlfriend?!? He's eight, for heaven's sakes! Bitter.Sweet. (B.S. for short. How appropriate.:p) But then again, isn't the whole of life?</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So as I wrap up Day 6 of Writing Practice and Day 1 of The Crash Course, I brace myself for a couple more chapters of reading on provincial legislation, licensing and learning how to use a calculator (the long one with all those hieroglyphic-like symbols!) once again. I say a prayer of thanks to the gods of school and moving on and tuck in an extra one that goes: </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>Please.Help.Me! Allow my synapses to make the proper connections up here in my just-woken up mommy (to no more babies) brain. </i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Thank you and AMEN.</span></div>
ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-83229495689676446462013-05-06T04:28:00.002-07:002013-05-06T20:57:44.749-07:00Day 5 | High Park, Low Park<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://www.highparktoronto.com/">High Park</a></div>
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It started on a high note. </div>
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We were on our way to see our angel, Baby Ava. We missed her so much. She arrived a couple of weeks ago and it was time to see her again. So J and I packed the kids. He made chicken sandwiches for the trip, I packed four bottles of water and my big camera and off we went. It's a long drive to downtown.</div>
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The place was packed! It's like the whole of Toronto decided to come to High Park all at the same time. I've never seen this place so full of people! Just the same it was a gorgeous day and since everyone was in high spring spirits, the crowd didn't bother me at all. </div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">It didn't bother me but it bothered the</span><i style="text-align: left;"> bana</i><span style="text-align: left;">. He was flustered over how the plans kept changing. We were to meet M and B with their respective families at Point A. Turns out, when we got to that point, they moved to Point B already. </span><i style="text-align: left;">Sapot!</i></div>
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The little guy, J, who has flat feet was, was now complaining. He can't walk long lengths, even with his very expensive insoles, it still hurt he says. I said, half-blaming, to J "I should have worn my sneakers!" which I was going to but since he said "It's a short walk, moccasins are ok, I didn't. Now my feet hurt, too. "Where are we? Are we lost?" He makes another call.</div>
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I walked slowly. So did Little J. I was enjoying myself in spite of the small ache starting to grow in my right instep. These shoes ain't made for walkin'. </div>
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But because I chose to take it slow, take photos, take in the glorious sights around me - oh, look at that tree with white blossoms! - it was manageable.</div>
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Baba J, on the other hand, was getting more and more agitated by the minute. Not a very happy camper, this one. I was beginning to feel it, too. High Park was beginning to feel like Low Park. Moods were changing, too much complaining. Him, kids, myself. Transference...it happens. But *click-snap-click* I kept distracting myself with the view. Families with babies, lovers with picnic baskets, dogs, oh, hello, doggie!, old people taking it slow, young people on skateboards zooming by...simply glorious. </div>
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My poor baby, J. He's in pain, he says. I think he's being impatient more than in pain. We've been walking for almost an hour now. We still haven't found the others at this point.</div>
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Just when Big J gave up on finding the rest of the group - this is a very big park, we just found out - we sat down at a quiet park bench and waited for him to come back with the car. Bless him for choosing to walk all the way back so we don't have to. Little J says again "Worse day ever, Mom." He's really bummed out. The older kids were handling it better. We decided to open the Sour Gummies that was meant for Auntie B. Times like these, sugar helps.<br />
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I called Auntie B. They decided to just go home, too. As we were laughing about how they were "So near yet so far." and making light of the gloomy moody situation of not finding each other (her and I see eye to eye when it comes to choosing to employ pollyanna tactics) she blurts out,<br />
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<i>"Hey, Kat, I see you!"</i><br />
"What, where...who...?"<br />
"Turn around, right here across the street!"<br />
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I turn and see her waving! The brand new family of three, the reason for us making the long trek across town, were right there. We ran to them. Just like that, it all felt oh-so-worth it. Ha! Who knew that by sitting down on a quiet park bench, things you seek could come to you? ;)<br />
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I still wish I could have changed Big J's mood. I wish I could make him see what I saw, make him feel what I felt, instead of the <i>sapot </i>mood he chose to be in. But that's my lesson in all this. <i>I can't change others. I can only change myself. </i> I know that in my head. But it doesn't stop the feelings of frustration, OY! You bet I was feeling the <i>sapot,</i> too. And I was feeling blamey, deep down inside. <br />
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The car ride home was heavy, even lower than Low Park. Everyone was tired by now. And hungry. J and I had a quick exchange (read: argument) about how we were choosing to be. We left it hanging at "Let's agree to disagree on this one."<br />
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It was a quick Mc Do burgers for dinner for the kids. <br />
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The morning after, as I write this, I'm still feeling the tired, heavy feelings from last night's lesson. Yet another lesson - soul instruction - that needs to be learned. Mine, simply, is this: I can choose where to look. I can choose how to be. I can be in High Park or I can stay at Low Park.<br />
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For now, I choose to look at this wonderful view before me. This is Big J carrying Little J.<br />
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And the longer I stare at this photo, the more things are settling back into its proper perspective...<br />
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I think I'll make this my screensaver for today. <br />
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High Park, Low Park.<br />
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It's My Choice Park.<br />
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<br />ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-71866668766286554092013-05-04T21:07:00.003-07:002013-05-06T15:50:46.461-07:00Day 4 | stuckAlready?<br />
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It's only Day 4 for heaven's sakes.</div>
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So I go to my writing buddy, Charotski and tell her about it.</div>
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<i>"I'm stuck."</i></div>
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"Ok, tell me more..."</div>
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<i>"I have too much. Too many topics to choose from. It's the opposite of block. I've got...over-stock!"</i></div>
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"Choose one?"</div>
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<i>"That's exactly where I'm stuck."</i></div>
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"I'm sorry, I don't understand..."<br />
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Me, neither, Cha. I don't understand why I can't choose. Correction: I can choose but I'm NOT choosing. </div>
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AHA. That's worth repeating here: It's not that I CAN'T choose. I'm NOT choosing. Deliberately delaying making the choice. Choosing not to choose. Which in itself is a choice.</div>
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Rinse and repeat.</div>
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"Write the one that's ready to ship." she suggests. "Which one is?"</div>
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"None."</div>
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Ouch. I have nothing. Zip. As our heavily accented Indian neighbour says, "Jero." </div>
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So, for the moment, our WhatsApp conversation ends there. But, look here. This isn't nothing. I've typed out at least 100 words now. There are no rules except 1) Daily 2) In the spirit of sharing 3) To edutain. (Educate and Entertain) Ok. Two out of three isn't bad. </div>
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Truth be told, the only reason I am still here despite these feelings, writing and sharing and about to ship what could possibly be the worse junk in Canada just before midnight, is because of my writing buddy. If it were up to me, I'd go back to my old habit, sure as the sun will shine tomorrow morning, and say something like "Bukas nalang nga!" I'm tired. I'm going to bed. It's okay to miss a day.</div>
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But is it really? Not to me. Not anymore. </div>
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I did say "As good or bad or shitty as can be."</div>
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And it's time! 11:59PM as I write these words.</div>
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I am.</div>
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Done.</div>
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ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-12699607194516834542013-05-03T11:49:00.002-07:002013-05-06T15:51:05.079-07:00Day 3 | How much do you love me?<br />
<i>Do you love me? he asks. </i><br />
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He is being a tad coy about it. Hindi bagay, I think to myself. <br />
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J. MY Man. And my man is All Man, if you know what I mean. Sa ato pang mga bisdak, pa macho ba. :)<br />
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He is Alpha Male. Captain of the ship. Provider, protector, leader of the band. <br />
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I reply: <i>Yes. Of course, I love you.</i><br />
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(pause)<br />
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<i>How muuuuch?</i><br />
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Ayayay!<br />
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That. There. That's when the magic disappears for me. Ok, maybe not completely. But certainly sprinkled with cold water. <br />
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The question alone: "Do you love me?" already puts a bit of a strain in my mind. It's a given. An obvious fact. I am here. Therefore I am IN LOVE with you. If I wasn't in love? Well, baboo!<br />
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O sige na nga. Naglalambing at nagpapacute lang naman, sabayan mo na.<br />
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<i>"I love you THIS.MUCH!"</i> I declare. Then I stretch my arms wide and with my hand closest to him gently hit the side of his face. Alright, not <i>that</i> gently. I know he can take it. I laugh. He mock-pouts and laughs with me.<br />
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J and I have been married, let me see, a total of fourteen years now. Wow! That's a long time. I smile a smug smile. We're good. Baby, we're VERY good. Oh, we've had our ups and downs. AS IN! When were up, we were all the way up! And the downside...hay naku! In keeping to the upbeat and sunshiny day, I'll just say...<br />
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Yes, I love him THIS.MUCH.<br />
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My Man.<br />
My love and my life. <br />
My lover and protector. <br />
My hero, my saviour.<br />
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Until my badass She-Wolf Self came along.<br />
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And now she will sing you a song!<br />
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<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F90619476" width="100%"></iframe><br />
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^_^<br />
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Hope you LIKE.<br />
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Happy weekend everyone!!!<br />
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I'll see you tomorrow.<br />
For now, kanta muna tayo!<br />
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<b>How Deep Is Your Love</b><br />
Written and sung by The Bee Gees, 1977.<br />
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Thanks <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aNc0fxcx8SA">YOU</a> for the heartfelt guitar/instrumental rendition!<br />
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I know your eyes in the morning sun<br />
I feel you touch me in the pouring rain<br />
And the moment that you wander far from me<br />
I wanna feel you in my arms again<br />
And you come to me on a summer breeze<br />
Keep me warm in your love and you softly leave<br />
And it's me you need to show<br />
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How deep is your love<br />
I really need to learn<br />
Cause we're living in a world of fools<br />
Breaking us down<br />
When they all should let us be<br />
We belong to you and me<br />
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I believe in you<br />
You know the door to my very soul<br />
You're the light in my deepest darkest hour<br />
You're my saviour when I fall<br />
And you may not think I care for you<br />
When you know down inside That I really do<br />
And it's me you need to show<br />
How deep is your loveChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-25119864284577201402013-05-02T11:18:00.000-07:002013-05-06T15:51:23.383-07:00Day 2 | I couldn't resist.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I'm driving on Hillcrest Road. It was getting busier and busier by the minute. I just dropped my eldest son, S, to his school nearby. But that view. I feel the urge to stop. But...but...the cars. The traffic. The chores. The To-Do List. But...</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I couldn't resist.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">The bright sunlight. The big blue up above. That view of green and more green and that moving dot in the distance. A tractor? A watering truck? Whatever it is, it's working the spring fields.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I don't know what it is about a wide expanse of green that make me all happy-happy inside. It may be the farm girl DNA in me. May be because my ancestors in Bataan were all farmers. </span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8KN05bTimz6FCasf2THSqo6dgL0BMpgjEeQW4ehyphenhyphenPa4jRyu44YXVhyphenhypheniZjGUmKmbNcErvaHqDfjvCJbqDRE3qjAt6i_6T3dirBD1A74NB9b0UeLNf2smE8mdwMXTAixV4VaSba2CHr_UI/s1600/photo-5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8KN05bTimz6FCasf2THSqo6dgL0BMpgjEeQW4ehyphenhyphenPa4jRyu44YXVhyphenhypheniZjGUmKmbNcErvaHqDfjvCJbqDRE3qjAt6i_6T3dirBD1A74NB9b0UeLNf2smE8mdwMXTAixV4VaSba2CHr_UI/s320/photo-5.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">I couldn't resist. A part of me wanted to. But it was a very small part. I chose to ignore it. For today I allowed myself the moment...</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">To stop and take the shot. Sit and write the poem. Smile and take in the scent of spring. That heady combination of fresh new life and rotting dead things. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">Take it in. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">Take a minute. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">Don't resist it.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><br /></span>ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-14744560941946706942013-05-01T18:33:00.000-07:002013-05-06T15:51:46.562-07:00Day 1 | Hallelujah anyway!<div class="layoutArea">
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<b><a href="http://snd.sc/ZWX6wE">Hallelujah anyway.</a></b></div>
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<i><b>"If you used to love writing, painting, dancing, singing, whatever, but you stopped doing it when you had kids or began a strenuous career, then you have to ask yourself if you are okay about not doing it anymore."</b></i></div>
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The above admonition came from one of my writing teachers, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_Lamott">Anne Lamott</a>. It's a tough one. Especially for moms like us who feel the strong push and pull almost daily. </div>
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Like today.<br />
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So I'm all poised to begin. To restart the blogging/creative practice. I'm calling today Day One. My <a href="http://www.myglorybox.com/">writing buddy</a> - my Wruddy, for short - reminded me about the <a href="http://www.ahealthiermichigan.org/2011/01/12/how-to-get-smart-about-goal-setting/">SMART</a> thing. You know what, this whole inspiring Wruddy Story deserves a whole other blog post. I'll write about that <strike>next. </strike>soon.<br />
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Sing. Write. Share. DAILY. For 30. As good or bad or shitty as can be. I've already <i>failed</i>. <a href="http://chiquipineda.blogspot.ca/2011/09/i-like-someone-like-you.html">100 songs</a> in 100 days, fail. 365 selfies (doodles, photos, etc.etc.) in 365 days, fail. I didn't die. On the contrary. I got stronger and feel more alive than ever. Fail is just another word for Prep. Prepping for the next step. And there is always a next step. More importantly, I have already given myself permission to create the worst junk in Canada. I have the antidote message intact: I am NOT my work. So there. Ready, get set…</div>
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*Riiiiiiiing*. It's my iPhone. Right in the middle of my 11AM writing practice. I hear my daughter's weak "Hello…" O is calling me from school. "I'm not feeling well, Mom. Can you pick me up now, please?" Without missing a beat, I'm up and running. Hair, check. Sunblock, check. Gratitude prayer for the car being here, check. I am at the school within ten minutes. She had a low-grade fever from the beginnings of a sore throat this morning yet she still chose to go to the first few sessions because "We're doing fractions, Mom. I need to be there for fractions." Math isn't her strongest subject. My little fighter. I admire her so much for that can-do spirit. She did say she may choose to miss the other half of school. Sounds like a good compromise to me.</div>
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I settle her, with lunch and bonding over Babies, a documentary movie, for half an hour. When I see she's happy and comfortable, I get back to my desk.</div>
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So I'm all set. I'm poised at the keyboard and start writing again. Tap-tap-tapping on the keys and just as I hit my stride…tap-tap-tap. But this tapping isn't coming from my keyboard. It's knocking on my office door. Vida, our housekeeper tells me "The Bunsoy is calling for you. My youngest son arrived from school already complaining about his (flat) feet hurting. "It hurts a lot, Mom." They just had a field trip today and they were made to walk/stand around for three hours. He isn't hungry so I tucked him on the living room couch, did the alternating hot-cold compress for about thirty minutes and then a foot massage. He is knocked out in minutes. This peace only lasts about twenty minutes because he is crying, mid-write, about his foot hurting even more now.</div>
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It's time to grab the meds and do the whole hot-cold alternating compress all over again. After twenty minutes and a spoonful of WowButter (soy as we have a severe peanut allergy in the home with little Ms. O) the Bunsoy is smiling again. He's playing with Kuya in their room now. Peace once more.</div>
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And I am back to the page. Hoping against hope that there are no more interruptions this time. As if on cue, the girl excitedly comes in to show a photo of one of her list of back-to-school items. It's only April. BTS is not until September. Glad to know I'm raising at least one long-term planner.</div>
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Then it dawns on me: this is the rhythm of my day. No need to fight it any longer. The perfect moment, time, day will never come. It never has in all these years of my waiting for it. In all the times I've jumped in and out of the creative process, it was always…messy.</div>
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As Ms. Lamott puts it in her Facebook post: </div>
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<i>"Back in the days when I had writing students, they used to spend half their time explaining to me why it was too hard to get around to writing every day, but how once this or that happens--they retired, or their last kid moved out--they could get to work. </i><i>I use to say very nicely, "That's very nice; but it's a total crock. There will never be a good time to write. It will never be easier. If you won't find an hour a day now, you won't find it then."</i></div>
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So I find it. Midday or late at night. While in the loo or in the car while the husband drives. I find it. In a friend's favourite song, poem, quote or new artist/talent shared. I sing with that as my inspiration. But only when I <i>feel</i> like it.<br />
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Uh-oh. </div>
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<a href="http://www.stevenpressfield.com/about/">Steven Pressfield</a> says it best: A professional will do the work whether he feels it or not. An amateur…" Well, see Exhibit A. </div>
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This isn't enough nor comfortable anymore. I have chosen to be a professional again. Suzanne Evans says "Ho or Bo, your choice." Ho = Hobbyist Owner. Bo = Business Owner. In all the years that I was a professional singer, I performed whether I felt like it or not. That's what a pro does. I get it. When the kids came, I retired. They were young. I was <i>tired</i>. You get the picture.</div>
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I'm still tired. Yet the pull to come back to contributing to a bigger circle is strong. Very strong. Enter <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AnneLamott">The Admonition</a>. It is the Voice from heaven. Ms. Lamott continues ~</div>
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<i>"The answer is simple: you decide to. Then you push back your sleeves and start writing (or singing or dancing, painting or baking…) scribbling words down on paper, or typing at a computer. And it will be completely awful. It will be unreadable shit! You won't have a clue how it account to anything, ever. And to that, I say, Welcome. That's what it's like to be a writer. But you just do it anyway. At my church, we sing a gospel song called, "Hallelujah anyway." Everything's a mess, and you're going down the tubes financially, and gaining weight? Well, Hallelujah anyway.</i></div>
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Today marks the beginning of my (re)committing to this daily practice. I have my angels with me, and my earth-angel and Wruddy, Charotski. I know I can't do it alone. Not even a buddy will guarantee success.<br />
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Grace. That's the ultimate key in all this business of creativity. When I accept that Grace comes from Above, when I understand that it is granted and not pushed or muscled out of me, then there's more chances for <i>real</i> success. </div>
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When one...or two! finally agree to "Stop hitting the snooze button." and get to the "Hallelujah anyway." that's when the magic happens.</div>
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No matter the weather, I remember to say:<br />
Hallelujah, hallelujah, anyway, EVERYDAY!</div>
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<b>Courage in creativity,</b><br />
<b>Chiqui*Kat</b></div>
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ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1807405164512776282.post-67974055300371506792013-04-21T18:50:00.001-07:002013-05-04T21:11:44.870-07:00The way I am.<a href="http://soundcloud.com/chiquipineda/the-way-i-am-by-ingrid?utm_source=soundcloud&utm_campaign=mshare&utm_medium=blogger&utm_content=http://soundcloud.com/chiquipineda/the-way-i-am-by-ingrid">32/100 : The Way I Am by Ingrid Michaelson (Cover by Chiqui Pineda) by chiquipineda</a><br />
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Thank you.<br />
For taking me the way I am.<br />
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❤ChiQui pronounced like Kiwihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09271791090682205036noreply@blogger.com1