For as long as I can remember, I have spent my birthday night with family. Some days, my birthday fell on Thanksgiving, and we enjoyed turkey and stuffing and cake. Most birthdays, though, involved dinner out with my parents, brothers and, most recently, Rama. It's a tradition I have grown to love.

When I found out my brother Ricky and his girlfriend Brooke were going to be in town for my 30th birthday and the holiday weekend, I was thrilled. I couldn't wait to add two to the dinner reservation. I imagined a nice meal out, followed by cake at home and games through the wee hours of the morning.

The plan was this: Rama would come pick me up at 6:30, we'd drive to my parents' house in OC and we'd go to one of my favorite seafood restaurants. In the car, Rama asked me if I knew what I was going to order. "Hmm...maybe some grilled shrimp," I said. "Or fish. And mashed potatoes!"

"Do you think your mom will have cake?" he asked.

"If she doesn't," I said, "it just means we can order dessert." I was quite satisfied with this answer. I was hungry, too.

The drive was a bit long and the traffic was kind of awful, but we made it. As I pulled into my parents' housing complex, I noticed a mass of people standing by the clubhouse. It was hard not to notice them, actually. There were at least 20 or 30 people just milling about. I wondered what was going on at the clubhouse but not enough to get suspicious.

As I drove up closer, though, a few of them walked toward the street and a couple leapt right in our path. "What the @^*!?" I exclaimed to Rama. Just then, a cousin of mine came into view. And then another and another and--OH MY GOSH! It hit me like a ton of bricks. It was a party. A birthday party. For me.

My cousins offered to park my car, so I got out and slowly greeted all these people from all corners of my life--Mom, Dad, Ricky, Brooke. Aunties, uncles, cousins. Friends from grade school, friends from college, friends from church. They all came to celebrate my 30th birthday. In Orange County. On a Tuesday night. I felt tongue-tied and starry-eyed and overwhelmed with all this love.

As if that wasn't surprise enough, there was more.

At the bottom of a beautiful pile of gifts was a box wrapped in red paper and yellow starred ribbon. It was from Rama. He'd told me earlier that I probably knew what it was, but when I lifted it off the ground I realized I didn't have a clue. It was heavy.

Tearing off a sliver of paper revealed a yellow wooden box. Tearing off more revealed a gorgeously hand-painted box. "The We Love Christine Box," it said in hand-drawn letters above an illustration of me as a little girl dressed as Wonder Woman. Inside, there were gorgeous paintings, letters, photographs, stories, poems, music mixes and trinkets. Each was a treasure in and of itself, and together it was like an archaelogist's dream discovery come true. So much history and heart.

Beyond the obvious, there were some beautiful things about the whole affair. Like how Rama had been planning this surprise since my 28th birthday but I unknowingly beat him to the punch with a similar surprise last year. Or how my friend Carrie, who's 7 months pregnant, drove from San Diego because it broke her heart to be anywhere else. Or how my 89-year-old grandmother contributed stories from my childhood that even I'd forgotten.

Everything about my 30th birthday was pure magic, not because of what people gave me, but because of who those people have been. I am who I am because of them. They celebrated me, but I don't know if they realize that in doing so they were also celebrating themselves.

quiet 16 November 2005

What is it about these autumn months that has kept me so quiet? Maybe it's the weather—the coolness that inspires cups of tea and a good book. Maybe it's the festivities that surround this time of year—the baby showers, the birthday celebrations, the holidays that keep me driving all around town. Or maybe I'm just getting shy in my older age. I don't like to talk as much as I used to.

Whatever the reason, I decided today I'd speak up. I'd say hi.

So, hi.

I'm drinking a cup of afternoon coffee and printing holiday cards. It's 80-something degrees out, but I've got Christmas on the brain. I've already gotten a stash of gifts beneath my desk and a list of more to buy. It seems soon, I know, but a week from tomorrow is Thanskgiving, and we all know how Christmas always sneaks up right after that. This year, I'm gonna be ready when it does.

first chill 26 October 2005

The first chill of the season always comes as a surprise. One minute, you're wearing tank tops and flip-flops and the next you're wishing you'd brought your sweater.

business 18 October 2005

Last night, I made my first bulk wholesale order for some Darling t-shirts that I'm going to start selling. I stared at the web form for several minutes before I mustered up the courage to click "submit." Why the hesitation? Because ordering a few dozen t-shirts makes all of this real. I'm not just coming up with "great ideas." I'm not just thinking, "Hey, I could do that." I'm actually doing it.

It's nerve-racking to make such an investment, but it's also very exciting too. I'm releasing my ideas into the world. That's so cool.

catching up 13 October 2005

I'm at a loss for words these days.

By the time I've caught up on email, written in my journal, called my mom, gabbed with girlfriends and penned a letter to my grandma, I feel all talked out.

Some days, I obsess about the wedding. Other days, I drown myself in work. The good days, though, are the ones when I feel like I get a little bit of everything done. When I end up sitting across from Rama at the dinner table sharing all the bits and pieces I accomplished and all the odds and ends I still get to do.

There is so much going on. I'm going to show some pieces in a small local art show to benefit the hurricane victims. I'm going to launch the Darling shop once and for all. I'm going to turn 30.

Gosh, I remember when "thirty" sounded ancient. Now I laugh at the thought. I feel like all the really good stuff is just around the bend.

fragile 05 October 2005

It's been one of those difficult and trying, life-is-fragile weeks. The trials and tribulations aren't mine to tell, and I'm not going l to list them like laundry here. All I can say is that people dear to me are hurting, and I hate that.

The one thing that is magic in all this is that I can be there for them. I have experienced enough that I know how it feels and I have words to share that actually mean something. Is it wisdom? Is it empathy? Whatever it is, it's such a gift.

I am grateful for that, and I am grateful for the people who support me when I need it. I'm even strangely grateful for these kinds of weeks, because it reminds me not to take any of this for granted.

r u 4 real? 08 September 2005

Walking out of the post office this morning, a man wearing a white undershirt and gold chain crossed my path. "Good morning," he said, as he got closer to me.

"Good morning," I smiled. I'd been up since 7-something and felt pretty good about the day.

Right as we passed one another, he said: "Here, you need one of these." I looked down at his hand and saw a slip of paper. In black ballpoint ink, it read "Ron," with a phone number. Without having time to think, I laughed and said "No, thank you!" He laughed, too, and kept on walking.

In my car, I remembered how my friends and I used to think how funny it would be to have pre-written phone numbers ready for such chance meetings. We didn't realize that people actually do it.

katrina 06 September 2005

What is there to say that hasn't already been said? I am speechless and have been for days. My heart is with everyone who has been affected by Hurricane Katrina.

If you want to help those in need but don't know how, check out this great list of organizations and efforts.

Also, Crafters United is an effort near and dear to my crafty heart. Crafters and designers all over the world have teamed up to sell their wares, with 100% of the proceeds going to the Red Cross. They've already raised over $12,000! I donated a few sets of my Sweet Notes cards. There are so many lovely goodies there, and I suggest you check it out.

Note: Thanks to everyone who bought note cards. They're sold out. But stay tuned, because the Darling Shoppe will open later this fall.

four months on the job 29 August 2005

I am continually learning what it means to make art and make art my living in my darling little studio in the corner of my bedroom.

re-creation 24 August 2005

Two of the quickie collages I made this afternoon, in my neverending quest to let go and get messy. "Don't think!" I kept reminding myself. "Just glue!"

My friend Christine came over today and, after having a lovely breakfast at one of my favorite neighborhood spots, we made a glorious mess in the afternoon sun. It was so much fun.

I forget how important it is to do that—not just to make art and make a mess, but to do it side by side with another colorful soul. Sometimes, there's chatter between creating ("Can I borrow a stamp pad?" and "Here, have some glitter tape."), but there can also be complete and utter silence. Both are so nice. Both make the experience.

I broke in a new sketchbook, and it was kind of exhilarating. I've always loved the promise of a blank page, but now I'm also learning to appreciate the beauty of one filled with scribbles, blotches and brilliant, messy color.

tagged 11 August 2005

I don't normally play blog games or spread memes, but I can't refuse my favorite Penelope. So, okay. Here are five idiosyncrasies of mine:

1. I have a funny walk. I didn't know I did until my friend Erlina saw a picture that Rama drew of us on his web site and told me she recognized it as me because of the funny walk. "I have a funny walk?" I asked Rama. "Oh yeah!" he said. It has been described as a waddle—a cute one.

2. I hate peas, but I like split-pea soup. I'm told that fresh peas are different, that I'll love fresh peas, but I'm doubtful.

3. Sometimes, I start a letter by writing a draft on a scrap piece of paper (or in a text document). When I've written and read and re-wrote and re-read the letter, I'll transfer it in nice handwriting on nice stationery.

4. Speaking of writing, I am always in search of the perfect pen, and I am protective of the ones I like. I purposely bring a crappy pen in my purse to give out when someone asks to borrow a pen. That way, if they forget to give it back, I haven't lost anything precious.

5. I can get sucked into almost any movie on television—no matter how crappy it is. An example: Rama and I were supposed to go out one afternoon, but Gremlins II was on. After 5 minutes, I was hooked and ended up asking him if we could finish it before leaving.

What are some of yours?

i'm a big kid, now 06 August 2005

There was a new guy, a boy in his early teens with thick brown hair and big teeth. Like a lot of teenagers, he had a short attention span and flitted from one person to another, starting stories but never finishing them.

"Where are the kids?" he said. I looked around to see many of my fellow volunteers, other people in their 20s and 30s, but not many other teens. Youth group in the summer is unpredictable. Sometimes, a couple dozen kids show up. Other times we're lucky to get 10.

"We are the kids," I said.

He thought I was trying to make a fool of him, but I wasn't. When I hang out with these teenagers, stuffing popcorn and red vines into my mouth, telling silly stories and laughing at stupid jokes, I feel like the biggest kid of them all.

c'mon, get messy 04 August 2005

Oh man, I'm wiped out today. I've been working hard, and I can feel it in my eyes and my fingers and my neck. Cramps don't help, either. Or the bloating. Or the cravings for everything chocolate. I am still up against one more deadline for the week, and I don't know how I'll get it done.

This is me trying to write about the real stuff.

This is me trying not to impress you.

It's harder than you'd think.

I have been doing experiments all summer in letting go, getting messy and spilling open. There's a page in my sketchbook where I tried intentionally to write as quickly as I could; I even used a brush tip pen instead of my usual uniball. But instead of looking beautiful and messy, the page just looks sloppy and muddy. I've been tempted so often to just tear the page right out and pretend it never existed, and I know that's totally ridiculous. You can't mess up getting messy, right?

dead sea skin solution 29 July 2005

Some neighbors bring you candy or bake you pies, but our neighbors give us mud.

They took a trip to the Dead Sea and came back with a packet of mud. Apparently, the stuff is chock full of minerals that do wonders for your skin. People slather it on their bodies and lay by the water, baking in the hot sun, hoping to see silky smooth results.

I've never done the whole mud mask thing, and Rima is always trying new skin treatments, and we like to think we're both open to new experiences. So, we figured, what the hell, let's try it. We got up early this morning, slipped on ratty tank tops and shorts, pulled our hair back with headbands and got out some towels. We also made a pot of coffee.

I rubbed the mud on my face with one hand and held a mirror with the other, leaving holes for my eyes and nostrils and mouth. It was darker than we thought it would be. And it tingled a little bit. And, oh yeah, it stunk. Bad.

"I feel like an elephant," Rima said.

"I feel like a tar pit," I said.

After covering our faces, arms and knees with the stinky sticky mud, we went to the front porch to bake under the sun. We had hats on our heads to disguise us and coffee in our hands to keep us company. Every time we thought somebody was driving up or walking by, we'd quickly turn around so that they couldn't see how silly we looked. It didn't occur to me until I was rinsing off in the shower, that two girls with muddy arms and hats staring at the front of their house would have looked ridiculous no matter what.

Our skin is pretty silky and smooth, though.

sears saved my life 25 July 2005

I learned a new phrase yesterday: "It's a cooker!" We were at Home Depot when Marcia said it, and I thought she was referring to the grills we were passing, but it turns out she meant the weather. It was boiling hot.

I had a little panic attack on Saturday because some girls from church were at my house baking cookies for our youth group bake sale when, for no reason, my electric fan died. "What are we going to do?" I wondered. "What am I going to do?" With each question, I got progressively more and more panicked. "I can't work under these conditions! I can't live under these conditions! I'm going to die this summer!"

After we baked six dozen cookies, I hopped online and began shopping for cooling systems. I tried Lowes, Home Depot, Sam's Club, Costco and Amazon.com. Everyone was sold out, though. Some sales people even laughed at me when I asked if they had any in stock, as if I had just asked the most ridiculous question in the world.

Thank God for the Santa Monica Sears and its overachieving store manager. She had overstocked small air-conditioning units, the model that just happens to be the perfect size for my room, and they had several left. Plus, they were on sale. I didn't have to think twice before handing over my credit card.

Last night, Rama came over to install it and today I enjoyed wonderfully cool temperatures while I worked on design projects. Sears is my hero.

bridezilla-to-be 20 July 2005

Unlike many girls, I never really daydreamed about my wedding day. I imagined what kind of career I'd have, the sort of car I'd drive and the type of house I'd call home. I even fantasized about having a family and in that fantasy there was always a husband. I just never imagined the day that he'd become mine.

But now that Rama and I are engaged and, knock on wood, getting married in 10 months, I can't stop thinking about our wedding day.

Well, partly it's because I have to. We've picked a date and chosen our ceremony location, and now we have to find a reception spot.

Mostly, though, I like thinking about it. I enjoy flipping through bridal magazines, I look forward to tearing out pages and slipping them into my wedding binder, I have a wedding binder, and I just love those emails that tell me how many more weeks until Rama and I tie the knot.

I guess that's the weird part. This obsession is new to me. I told Michelle that I'm afraid of becoming a bridezilla. I'm worried that I will put our wedding before our ever-blossoming relationship. I'm nervous that I will focus too much and too long on every little detail of this one day. Michelle says it's not possible and Rama says the fact that I even think about that means that I'm probably safe. I hope they're right.

it's only 2, what else should we do? 13 July 2005

This weekend, I was spoiled with time. So much time to sit and sketch and talk and laugh and sit some more. So much time with so many amazingly wonderful people. So much time that, rather than rushing from one place to the next like I so often do, I found myself trying to find ways to fill all this glorious extra time because I had nowhere to be for another couple hours.

I guess that's vacation for you.

Now, I'm back to the grind, although truthfully I'm still not too sure what "the grind" is, anymore. This morning, it's been coffee and toast by the window, followed by phone calls with current and potential clients. This afternoon, I've got a site to update and emails to answer. Tomorrow, though, will be filled with something else entirely. I'm just not sure what, yet.

the best seats in the house 07 July 2005

We drove up a steep and windy road to get there. When we reached the top of the hill, we scrambled out of the car and made our way through the house to the backyard. Rama and I found two lawn chairs in the corner of the yard and sat down. We were just in time for the fireworks.

I turned to Rama to see where he was looking, but he was looking at me.

"I see fireworks in your eyes," he said.

It sounded like a line out of a movie, but he meant it literally: There were fireworks everywhere. A big glittery show directly in front of us (in Burbank, I think), another display way off to the right (was that the ocean?) and several small and at least half a dozen illegal fireworks shooting into the sky (they felt dangerously close). Even the hills were glowing.

I felt silly that, just an hour before, I had bragged about how I used to see Disneyland's fireworks from my family's backyard every night, because this was unlike any fireworks show I'd ever seen. The entire sky was lit up in dazzling color, and we had the best seats in the house.

the little yellow house 01 July 2005

Last night, my dad and I took a drive to the house where I grew up. They're in the process of fixing it up, and Dad wanted me to see the progress that's been made.

From the front yard, it's the same old house, with some torn up roots and a new paint job. Walking inside, though, I hardly recognized it.

Where was the window I used to climb through when Ricky and I got locked out of the house? Where was the tiny pink bathroom that I used to pretend was my own secret haven? Where was the laundry area where I taught my grandparents to play mahjong?

It probably didn't help that just the other day I had looked through my old photo albums, so my childhood home was fresh in my mind.

Everything has changed, my dad explained, proudly giving me the tour. The bathroom is now the master bedroom. My bedroom is now a bathroom. There are new hardwood floors, new windows, new cabinets. Everything is new.

I imagine it might be a dream come true for a couple just starting out—or even for my parents beginning their early retirement, but for the little girl inside me, it was a little bit heartbreaking.

mini-vacation 29 June 2005

I'm at my parents' house for the next few days. A mini-vacation, I call it, since I'm not sure how much work I'll actually get done on my little old ibook. In addition to my computer, I've brought my sketchbook, my watercolors and a stack of bridal magazines. But I have a sneaking suspicion I'll just end up sleeping in and watching a lot of cable.

I wonder if there's ice cream in the fridge.

saturday night fever 25 June 2005

In the past 24 hours, I've launched two projects and I feel a hundred times lighter. I can't tell you how giddy I got when I moved the client folders from "active" to "inactive." I thought I should ride the high while it lasted and, after putting away some laundry, got ready to make my long overdue update to the Darling site.

Then Rama called to see what I was up to. Working, I told him.

"It's Saturday!" he chided me.

"Oh yeah," I said. I'd forgotten that for almost everyone else, it was the precious weekend. Time to let loose and unwind.

So I closed Photoshop and quit Mail. I cleared off my bed and got a DVD from Rima's shelf. And, as soon as I update this web site, I'm watching Mrs. Robinson and reading magazines in bed.

guess what? 22 June 2005

Every day is a surprise.

I have learned that the act of making coffee (and maybe also smelling the coffee) is what wakes me up—not actually drinking it. I've learned that traffic isn't so bad when you don't have to fight it everyday. I've learned that if you actually like the work you do you don't count the minutes until lunch or the days until the weekend—in fact, sometimes you forget to eat lunch until late in the afternoon and you work through the weekend because you are enjoying it that much.

I am learning so much about business and design and people and myself that I'm almost embarrassed that I ever pretended to know anything at all. I have so much to learn and so much to do, and I am so grateful that I have this time to do it.

the things i don't miss about my old office job 16 June 2005

1. Traffic. There are few things more frustrating than going 5 miles an hour on a major highway, especially when you realize that you live 20+ miles away and, if you continue at that speed, it will take over 4 hours to get home.

2. Cubicles. I actually love having my own little space, but I hate that awful beige office color that covered the walls. It just made me feel so blah.

3. Micro-management. That feeling that somebody is always looking over your shoulder — or worse, literally having someone look over your shoulder while you try to work. I much prefer working independently, and I think I'm better at it.

4. Meetings that go on forever. And ever. And ever. And you can't even figure out why.

5. Drama. Enough said.

6. The Refrigerator Thief. I still can't believe there are people out there who will take food that doesn't belong to them, but there are. First it was my yogurt. Then, my salad dressing. I don't miss walking to the refrigerator to grab a snack only to realize that my snack has disappeared.

7. Bad Office Coffee. Of course, I drank it. When it was a choice between bad office coffee and none at all, I took the coffee. But I much prefer brewing a fresh pot o' really good joe.

8. Gossip. This isn't to say that I never participated in it. In fact, I often lived for a good piece of gossip, but that's exactly why I'm glad I'm no longer in an environment that breeds it. I like myself better when I'm not whispering about so-and-so and you-know-who. You know?

the things i miss about my old office job 15 June 2005

1. People. While it's true eight whole hours sometimes went by without me saying so much as a word to someone else, I still drove to work alongside hundreds of other commuters. I saw and heard people shuffle past my cubicle dozens of times a day. I shared air and space with others. It was kinda nice. Now, a bulk of my day is spent in front of my computer in my empty house. Email is my number one way of reaching people and being reached. I go to the grocery store because I crave human contact.

2. The Girls. You know you are getting close to a group of girls when you all fall on the same menstrual cycle. You know you have something special when you just have to look each other to laugh.

3. Payday Fridays. And direct deposit.

4. Target. There was a Target store 5 minutes away from the office, and I loved knowing I could go there before work, on the way home from work or during my lunch break. Of course, maybe the fact that I don't live nearby is a good thing.

5. All The Good Food Places. The area where I worked is known for a few things: valley girls, the porn industry, dry heat and strip malls. Luckily, those strip malls are home to some of the most amazing little gems of restaurants. Mexican, Italian, Thai, Vietnamese, Filipino, Japanese, Cuban, Korean BBQ, French — you name it, we ate it. There even was an IN-N-OUT nearby.

6. Icebox Air Conditioning. I don't miss it yet, but I know when the temperatures start rocketing into the 90s I'm going to wish I was so cold I needed a sweater.

7. Guillermo. Guillermo, one of the maintenance fellows, always made me smile.

clarification 09 June 2005

I never in my life thought I would know a Rama, a Rima and a Rafi, but I do. Rama is the boy I'm marrying, Rima is the girl who shares a house with me and Rafi is the boy she's dating. It's kind of funny, isn't it?

p.s. Do you fancy yourself a Movable Type expert? If so, please let me know. I could really use your help.

sitting still 08 June 2005

Lately, it seems, I've been doing a lot of sitting.

In beach chairs anchored in the sand by a blazing bonfire. On a dark and windy two-lane road because there's an accident up ahead and no other way to get home. In the backyard of a house in the middle of nowhere, playing made-up guessing games about celebrities. Under the shade of a cherry tree as we wait for a ride back home.

Whether I'm at the final destination or on my way somewhere else, I'm learning to enjoy the act of sitting still. I'm learning to enjoy the moment. I've spent so much of my time rushing from one place to another that the act of dawdling is a refreshing change.

Of course, it helps that I've had good company. But I know that even if I were all by myself in the middle of nowhere with nothing but my thoughts, I'd be able to sit still.

ch-ch-ch-changes 07 June 2005

"I hate writing. I love having written."
—Dorothy Parker

It's been quiet. I know, I know, I know.

I have to admit I've kind of enjoyed the silence. I've had a lot of thinking, planning and dreaming to do, and it's been nice doing it in the comfort of my own head and heart. But I think I'm ready to share my days with you, again.

And oh, what days I've had! I have some good news and some ridiculously good news for you. Are you ready?

The good news is I have taken the big leap into self-employment. I have been a fulltime darling designer for about a month now, and I love it. I feel like I get to play all day long, and I get to do it with amazing people.

The ridiculously good news is that Rama and I are engaged. He proposed to me on our 2-year anniversary—we spent it in Portland, Oregon at the beautiful Kennedy School—and of course I said yes. Words can't express how thrilled and grateful I am to be marrying such a dreamboat.

Part of me has been bursting to tell you this news, but another part of me has been scared to break the silence. I'm still getting used to the idea of being my own boss and somebody's bride-to-be. It's like I'm a whole new person. Except I'm still the same.

Anyway, now that those cats are out of the bag, I plan on writing more—and more often. I may not have any big news for a while, but I'll always have stories to tell.

Thrive 17 March 2005

The days go by too quickly.

So often, comedy strikes or I stumble across something beautiful or I just feel like saying "hello" -- and then all of a sudden, like magic or lightning, it's weeks later.

But I'm tired of apologing. I'm tired of repeating myself. And, most certainly, I'm tired of being tired.

I'm taking better care of myself, though. Maybe that's one of the reasons I'm so quiet. I'm sleeping a lot, eating well and laughing often. This weekend, the wide open road calls. Rama and I are taking an itty bitty trip way up the coast, and I can't wait. We've both needed a vacation desperately.

Recently, a friend of mine signed an e-mail by saying "I hope you are thriving" and those words have stuck with me. It's more than just saying "I hope you're well" or "Have a great day." To thrive is not just to exist or survive or hang in there. It's to live and breathe and love out loud.

I'm working toward that. And I wish you days that are better than good and okay and fine, too. I hope you find ways to thrive.

Beware these pinchers 25 February 2005

I've said it before and today more than ever it's true: I feel like an old lady when I think about the Web, how far it's come, how long I've been publishing and playing on it and how much it's changed my life. As of Monday, I will have devoted six years to this web site, which is, really, at its core, a diary with no locks or hiding place.

After checking out Ryan's beautifully redesigned site and reading about his own web site's start six years ago, I realize I'm probably not the only one who feels this way.

We gave birth to an idea, fed it time and energy, let it play with the other kids and watched it grow. We learned, we got recognized, we fell off the face of the earth and we always came back for more.

I imagine us old folks crowded on benches around the playground while our children run and slide and swing, musing how, even if our kids can sometimes be a real pain in the ass, we are so damn proud of them -- and of us, for raising them.

We did something good. We built something, we made connections, we expressed ourselves, we fooled around, we gave each other hope in really trying times and we kept on going.

And, really, if I could, I would pinch each and every web site's cheeks today because I think they are such beautiful little miracles of life.

I was here. 18 February 2005

This is one of the best things I've read all year:

"Above all else, it is about leaving a mark that I existed: I was here. I was hungry. I was defeated. I was happy. I was sad. I was in love. I was afraid. I was hopeful. I had an idea and I had a good purpose and that's why I made works of art." --Felix Gonzalez-Torres, in Adbusters Vol 13

It rings so true to me and reminds me of why I started doing this in the first place.

I am slowly finding my way (back).

Lightbulb 14 February 2005

For many, great ideas come to them on the toilet.

For me, however, they come in traffic.

Retreat 31 January 2005

I know. I've been quiet.

This may be the most silent I've ever been and I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I've been designing and printing like a fiend. Maybe it's because I'm spending hours every week with other like minds and hearts in pursuit of changing the lives of teenagers. Maybe it's because some nights I just would rather watch TV or eat a slice of pie with my boyfriend than spend more time in front of a computer screen. Maybe it's all of this and more.

I'd been dreading this kind of post. I don't like apologizing for anything I do or don't write on my web site, because, well, it's my web site. And the moment I start to think too much about the audience, it stops being fun.

But the truth is, something has got to change -- something is going to change. I don't know if it's going to be a simple redesign or if it's going to be a major overhaul. I don't know when I'm going to have the time or energy to do it. And I don't know if you're going to like it, hate it or even want to keep visiting when it's done.

I just know that I'm going to try my darnedest to stay true to my original goal when I created this little space on the web. I'm going to play, again.

Secrets 26 January 2005

I am inching toward something good.

Success 24 January 2005

Thanks for all your well wishes and prayers. Ethan's surgery was a success, and he is slowly recovering. I haven't seen him, and I may not for several weeks, but just knowing that his little heart is beating and his pink lips are curling up to a grin, makes me so happy.

Everything else is fine. I am going through my usual beginning-of-the-year soul searching and cleansing. I also chopped a couple inches off my hair. While the two aren't really related, both are making me feel light and hopeful. Let's see how long it lasts.

Calling all prayers 13 January 2005

Tomorrow, my nephew Ethan will undergo heart surgery. He is 4 1/2 years old. Please send all prayers, wishes and good vibes to him and his family. Thank you.

Let go 01 January 2005

After the stroke of midnight, after we hooted and hollered and blew our horns, after we exchanged "Happy New Year"s and "I love you"s with our families via cell phone, after we clinked glasses brimming with champagne, we each grabbed a balloon and went outside.

Earlier, we'd made lists of fears, anxieties and issues we wanted to let go of this year. We rolled each scrap of paper into a tiny scroll and tied them to the balloons.

At the count of three, we released them. It was exhilarating and peaceful all at once. We stood in the middle of the street for a few minutes, watching the balloons disappear into the dark night sky.

Perspective 30 December 2004

All day long, I waited for the Volkswagen Dealership to call me. I'd brought my car in at 8 and it was supposed to be ready by noon, but of course, noon became 1 o'clock and 1 o'clock became 3. The problem was nothing major: The front passenger car door wouldn't open from the outside. It was covered under warranty, so it didn't even cost me anything to fix. It was just a hassle.

At 4, my car still wasn't ready and my co-worker--who had graciously played chauffeur to me the whole day--had to go home, so she dropped me off and I joined the other VW owners sitting on black vinyl chairs and cradling styrofoam cups in their hands.

The waiting room TV was set to ABC and the news was on. I hadn't watched any of the tsunami coverage on TV until then. Seeing the top stories on the web--and watching the death toll rise several times a day--was devastating enough. Seeing the survivors and hearing their stories on the television, well, that left me completely dumbfounded.

"This is so awful," I sighed, to nobody in particular.

The girl beside me answered: "I know."

She looked my age or younger. Her skin was flawless and her lips shone. She had a kind face, one you'd expect on a nurse, or a teacher, or an angel.

I continued, "It makes me feel like my car troubles are nothing at all, you know? Some of those people have lost their homes and family members. I just can't fathom that."

"Yeah. It puts everything into perspective."

We traded stories about our cars as if they were our children then fell back into silence, staring at the screen. A few minutes later, her name was called and she started to gather her things. Then she turned to me.

"May I read you something before I go?"

She reached into her purse and pulled out a little black book. "It's my favorite passage in the Bible. It always brings me comfort."

My heart sank. I knew where this was going. In college, I was the target of a dozen or so evangelical Christians. Maybe I looked like I needed saving, or maybe I just looked like I'd listen--I'm not sure. All I know is I started to resent those students who were constantly invading my space and privacy. I didn't like being quizzed, questioned, schooled, or worse, condemned.

I started to prepare my best comeback, a polite but firm "please go away" speech, as the girl found the page. She read the passage to me, quietly and calmly, following the words with her finger.

"Maybe you've heard it before," she said, "but I like it because it reminds me that this world is bigger than our comprehension and God is always with us."

I had heard it before, and it was comforting.

The girl closed the Bible and slipped it back in her bag, then got up to go just like she said she would. She didn't want to prove anything to me or expect something in return. She just wanted to give me some hope and faith. It was a gentle gesture.

I sat on that black vinyl chair, looked up at the TV and clutched my bag closer to my lap. It was all I could do not to cry.

Tsunami 29 December 2004

The death toll climbs and my heart continues to break for the people in Southeast Asia. I am whispering my prayers to the heavens for them.

You can help. Every little bit makes a difference.

Top secret mission revealed 21 December 2004

For the past two months, I've been leading a double life. The first life as Christine, the girl. The second as Christine, the spy. For Rama's 30th birthday this past Sunday, I put together a comic book, compiling artwork, stories and letters from his family and friends, most of whom I have never met. It was a pretty gigantic feat, and it was a complete surprise. I opened a new e-mail account that Rama would never see me use, I had covert phone meetings with his mom without him knowing, and I made secret trips to my p.o. box a few times a week, stashing away the contributions I received.

The past week was the height of my secretive behavior. In order to put the book together, I had to steal Rama's photo album from his closet, dodge some of his phone calls, say "no" to some plans, and, most difficult, stop myself from squealing with total utter excitement because the book was looking so much better than I thought it would. Luckily, I kept my cool and the mission was accomplished: When Rama opened the comic book on Sunday, he was stunned. He'd had no idea that any of this was going on, and he was amazed with the final product.

Now that that's over, I can turn my focus back on Christmas. This morning, I sent the last of my holiday cards. Tonight, I wrap the last of the gifts and lay them beneath the tree. This weekend, I get to see what Santa has in store for me. (I feel as giddy as I did when I was 5!)

My wish for you is that Santa brings some surprises your way and that, regardless of how you do or don't celebrate, your heart is filled with so much merriment.

Rockin' around the artificial tree 06 December 2004

I just bought a fake Christmas tree. It's a foot shorter than I am and pre-lit with 300 tiny white bulbs. With Rima and myself gone so much this month, we decided against getting a real tree. Even if I know that it's for the best, I feel a bit sad about it. I'm going to miss the smell of pine in our house. I'm even going to miss the mess of pine needles all over the floor.

Still, I'm looking forward to decorating it with my random assortment of handmade felt ornaments, threaded balls and wooden stars. I'm looking forward to wrapping gifts and arranging them beneath the bottom branches. Heck, I'm just looking forward to Christmas, because I just love it to pieces.

I am grateful for you 24 November 2004

I started keeping Good Things lists on Thanksgiving Day many years ago. After getting dressed for dinner and before going downstairs to join the party, I'd sit at my computer and type out all the good things I could think of. Everything that I was thankful for. The lists were long, rambly and sometimes ridiculous. They included the people in my life, the elements of the earth, the clothes in my closet, the food that made my mouth water, the music that made me wanna dance. Nothing was too big or too small for the lists. I wouldn't stop typing until I listed at least 100 people, places and things, and it was never difficult to exceed that by several dozen. It was my own little secret tradition.

I haven't made such a list in years, but tonight, while I am battling a fierce bout of cramps, while I am procrastinating packing for my weekend in San Antonio, while I am praying for my mom who was admitted to the hospital tonight for observation, I think being grateful for all that I have would do me a world of good.

Shutdown 11 November 2004

I shut down this weekend. I was like a household appliance that had been working so much so long that it overheated and shut itself off.

So, I stayed home sick Monday and Tuesday. At first, I felt guilty for it, as if I had to be on my deathbed to warrant such a thing. But after several hours shuffling around in my flannel PJs, sipping gallons of peppermint tea and sleeping until I just couldn't sleep any more, I realized it was just what I needed.

Now, I feel fresh and ready to brave my upcoming birthday, holiday travels and Christmas shopping. Speaking of Christmas shopping, my holiday cards finally go on sale tomorrow. Get ready.

The littlest thing 05 November 2004

Sometimes, it's the littlest things that lifts my spirits.

Last night, it was a belly warmed with tomato basil soup, my iPod slipped into my left pocket, my hand slipped into my right and Sam Beam's soothing crooning in my ears as I crossed the Ralphs parking lot to my car in the cold, dark night.

It's not over 03 November 2004

I feel just as deflated and depressed as many of you do. But, I keep telling myself, now is not the time to lose hope.

It breaks my heart to think that those who voted for the first time this year, those who spent countless days and nights canvassing neighborhoods and raising money, those who kept their hopes up until the very last minute, might look at today and think it was all for nothing. It would be too easy to throw our hands up in the air and stop trying. But we can't give up yet.

Almost 30 years ago, my parents left the Philippines at a time of martial law to seek a better life for their children. And we are so much better off because of it. I made the decision in 1997 to become a U.S. citizen, because I wanted to have a voice in the country where I grew up, the country that I had grown to love. I do not regret that. I still have hope, even if it's just a glimmer, even if today it wants to curl up in a ball and cry itself to sleep. Tomorrow, hope will still reside in my heart, because that's just the kind of person I am.

"We must be the change we wish to see in this world." --Gandhi

I have said before that I'm no good at politics. I don't pretend to understand the intricacies of our government and the issues that we face. I won't speak for the entire country, because clearly there are people who have views and values far different from my own.

But I can do my part, as small as it may be, to help those around me. I can keep educating myself and others. I can continue to speak my mind and heart. But give up? I just can't do that yet.

Hope 02 November 2004

Can you feel the hope and energy? I can.

Last night, my roommate Rima and I beep-beep-beeped our way down Sunset Blvd. past a mob of people carrying "Fire President Bush" signs. We both felt weighed down by the stress and fear of another letdown, but had to constantly remind ourselves that our emotions could do little to help. We'd just have to put in our votes and hope it counts. Instead, we talked about astrology and eavesdropped on the baristas. Rima read her sample ballot. I wrote a letter to my grandma.

At 7-something this morning, I fell out of bed, threw on jeans and a hoodie and drove three blocks to my polling place, a little Russian church. (In retrospect, I realize I chould have walked, but my brain doesn't work that early.)

Outside, a man with a tape recorder was interviewing a guy walking his dog. He was a reporter from a local radio sation. Inside, six booths were occupied by people of all shapes, colors and sizes. As I voted, I felt grateful, hopeful and careful.

I went back home to get ready for work and, before leaving, grabbed a coat from the rack that I hadn't worn since winter. When I tried it on in front of the full-length mirror, I noticed that an "I voted" sticker was still on the lapel from the last election. I took it as a good sign, draped it over my arm, along with my handbag and lunch, and went to work.

Sugar hangover 01 November 2004

Me as Chas Tenenbaum, from The Royal Tenenbaums. Rima was a demented prom queen, Henry was a Hasidic Jew and Rama was a kid dressed up as Superman.

It took me 1 1/2 hours and half a can of hairspray to curl my hair last night, and I still looked more Shirley Temple than Ben Stiller. Still, my costume got a couple laughs and kept me comfy the whole night.

We played pop culture trivial pursuit and stuffed our faces with all sorts of treats while we waited for kids to come by. Whenever the doorbell rang, all activity stopped and one of us darted to the door with the gigantic bowl of candy. The rest of us watched, cackled and cooed, which probably ended up being more scary than we'd intended. We were just so darned excited.

We were visited by a sumo wrestler, a couple spidermans, a few ninjas, a handful of teddy bears and several princesses. I wanted to squeeze the cheeks of every last one of them.

Today, I've got a sugar hangover and a daunting to-do list. Mondays are like this.

p.s. If you dressed up and took pictures of your costume, it's not too late to join Penelope's Costume Contest.

A blessing 28 October 2004

I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more I wish you enough hapiness to keep your spirit alive I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final goodbyes --Unknown

Today, I wish you enough.

So much going on 27 October 2004

The oh-my-gosh-what-now panic of yesterday has become more of a wow-I-can't-believe-this-is-all-happening feeling swirling in my tummy. How did I get to be so darned lucky -- and busy?

Some of the many things I am looking forward to:

- Dressing up for Halloween, lighting my first-ever jack-o-lantern and stuffing the bags of all the adorable costume-clad kids

- Launching my first line of holiday cards (a limited amount will be available through the soon-to-launch Darling Shoppe, as well as my favorite local paperie)

- Going to Disneyland to celebrate my birthday and taking a week off work to do a whole lot of nothing

- Visiting Rama's family in San Antonio on Thanksgiving weekend

- Ladies' night at my place tonight, which will probably include crafting, gossip, tea and treats

What? 26 October 2004

I'm having a "What the hell am I doing?!" moment, complete with sweaty palms, racing brain, pounding heart and all.

Luckily, I've had enough of these to know that it'll pass.

Lucky bastard 20 October 2004

There's nothing like someone else's bad news to change your point of view. I spent most of the morning mumbling and grumbling because of the teeniest, tiniest things. I was in a bad mood, a funk, a stink. But at lunch, I got word of something worse than I could imagine for myself, and my mumbles and grumbles turned to hard blinks and sighs.

I wish I could be a superhero to everyone who needs one, but I know that's an impossible dream. Instead, I'm going to try to focus on being grateful for what I can do. For what I have.

No! 14 October 2004

There are a lot of things I'm not good at. I can't throw a ball to save my life. I have a heck of a time balancing a checkbook. I get stage fright in front of big crowds. If I were a superhero, Rama and I joke, one of my weaknesses would be that I am too nice. I don't know how to say "No."

This year, however, one of my unwritten resolutions has been to find my limit and stick with it. To take, as well as give. To slow down.

But somehow, as another year's end approaches, when the resolutions are a faraway memory, I am forgetting it all. I am trying to do way too much, and it's making my head spin. My project list is longer than its ever been, and the deadlines are approaching before I can blink twice.

Part of me thinks this way is the only way. Life is short, a voice in my head says, and you better do all that you can while you can. But another voice laughs and retorts, Don't forget to slow down and enjoy the ride. Life is short.

I want to learn how to slow down.
I want to learn the difference between challenging myself and driving myself mad.
I want to spend a day without a list of deadlines and to-do's.
I want to say--rather, shout out loud--No!

TV reality 08 October 2004

We live in a society that stalks celebrities, puts them on pedestals and under microscopes, and weaves tales about their lives that are either enthralling or mundane. So, it's always strange when I see those celebrities in my own environment, like the time Drew Barrymore sat behind me at a movie, the Iron & Wine show where I shared balcony space with Winona Ryder or the night I slurped udon a few seats away from Ralph Fiennes. I feel as though they should be standing on a magazine page or behind glass. I forget that they are real people with real lives.

Last night, Rama and I found ourselves partying (read: watching the party from our little corner of the club) among the likes of Jason Schwartzman, Zooey Deschanel, Kelly Osbourne and all these people who probably have been in TV shows and movies and bands but who knows which. It was very surreal.

On one hand, the fact that we were friends with the same girl made me feel like we're not that different from one another after all. On the other hand, I still felt like I was watching some reality TV show or having another one of my crazy vivid dreams.

Where I left off 05 October 2004

As I predicted, there was a lot of giggling this weekend with Lorraine in town. We also did a lot of eating, walking and napping. A weekend highlight had to be lying on lounge chairs at the Standard Hotel rooftop, telling stories and staring at the sky. Another was the halibut.

***

My narrative has lost its momentum, but I'm trying to find it again. Redesigning the maganda.org homepage made me take stock in my past and present projects, and I realized how much I miss capturing moments, spying on people, divulging crushes and sharing way too much about my days.

There will be more stories soon.

Housekeeping 16 September 2004

1. I wiped the maganda.org homepage clean, and it felt unbelievably good. I will be re-doing it sometime soon, or maybe I won't. Maybe it will be weeks before I look at it again. That's okay, too. It's just a web site.

2. I am testing out Flickr and so far so good. I have to admit, at first I just didn't get it. It only seemed useful to people with cell phone cameras, a group that sadly does not include me. I've been playing around with it more, though, and I'm discovering that it's pretty darned cool. For example, all I had to do was add an eensy weensy bit o' code to make the latest entered image appear on this page (look right, toward the bottom). If you click on it, you end up on my Flickr photo stream, which is all the photos I've taken in the last short while. Kinda neat.

3. My brother Ricky gave me his old (20gb 2nd generation) iPod and it feels like Christmas. It is a true joy to have all that music with me in the car, at the gym and on the job. I am dancing a lot more.

4. Soon, I'll be offering a limited line of maganda.org products through Cafe Press. I got a sample last week, and it was pretty stinking cute. I won't be marking up the price on these, but I will be selling other non-maganda.org things eventually. Start filling those piggy banks.

5. Tonight, I have the first youth group meeting of the year. We have a new director, and he is full of energy and faith and ideas. I can't wait to see what he has planned for the kids. I have missed hanging out with teenagers. They keep me young.

The fall girl 13 September 2004

The days are zooming by.

This morning, I stepped outside surprised that clouds hung low and a chill filled the air. I was still dressed for summer.

I'm excited for autumn, for corduroy and denim and sweaters and tights. For cuddling and cocoa. For falling leaves. For turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes. For the next four-day weekend. Not for my 29th birthday, but for everything else that comes with this time of year.

So proud 08 September 2004

I am glowing with pride right now, because I just discovered that not one but both of my brothers are winners in this year's Communication Arts Interactive Annual. We may be missing the doctor and lawyer genes, but hot damn, our art gene makes up for it.

Congratulations, Tom & Ricky. You inspire me.

P.S. No congratulations would be complete without acknowledging the design & tech teams with whom they worked. Hi Brooke! Hi LUST!

Trying 02 September 2004

I am trying to find a balance between work and play, between here and there, between the way things are and the way I want them to be.

I am trying not to give myself unrealistic expectations, but at the same time I am trying to push myself to do/give/be more.

I am trying to remember that, often times, less is more.

I am trying to take better care of my body by eating healthfully and exercising regularly. I am trying to convince myself that going to the gym at lunch today is a better choice than grabbing a burrito and a coke.

I am trying to be a good daughter, a good girlfriend, a good friend. I am trying to be a good me.