June 22, 2009 - Posted by Marge- 0 Comments
Scary! I recently watched a History Channel program about December 21, 2012: The Mayan Calendar.
According to the show, numerous figures in history have made mention of the eventuality of the End of Days— the ancient Oracles of Delphi and the Sybil, the Mayan calendar, the ancient Chinese I Ching, the Indian Hopis, Merlin (the 17th century seer, not the fictional King Arthur wizard), and St. John in the Book of Revelations. Even the Internet-based project Web-Bot has predicted the same thing.
Disturbingly, at least two of the references above—the Mayan calendar and Terence McKenna’s time wave formula based on the I Ching—have given a specific date for this cataclysmic event. The Mayans, who were obsessed with time-keeping, were somehow able to design a calendar so precise (surpassing the Gregorian calendar), it was able to predict lunar eclipses thousands of years into the future.
Using their astronomical calculations, The Mayans believed that the earth is composed of five natural cycles, and that a new cycle of the earth occurs every 26,000 years. The last and 5th cycle will end during the winter solstice in 2012. During that time, multiple alignments of planets, including the sun, will take place and a previously unknown star or a black hole located at the center of the galaxy will affect the sun.
This belief has some fact in science. About five years ago, scientists at NASA discovered a massive black hole right at the center of the Milky Way. They admitted an alignment could take place sometime in the near future. The effect of this multiple alignment would shift the earth’s axis slightly and create a reversal of the North and South Poles. This reversal already took place about 700,000 years ago. The effect of this shift would cause powerful earthquakes across all continents, great floods and tsunamis, and near-mass extinction of all animal and human species.
The wise and revered Cumean Sybil and Oracle of Sybil predicted several milestones in history centuries before they happened, such as the rise and fall of the Roman emperors, the liege of the British kings, the discovery of the Americas, the Black Plague that eradicated a quarter of the world’s population. They also foretold the modern wars (World Wars I & II) where ships swam at the bottom of the sea (submarines), chariots that breathed fire (tanks), and men who had wings (airplanes).
The English seer Merlin foresaw wars, diseases and natural catastrophes as a prelude to the end of the world. The Book of Revelations predicted the rise of the Anti Christ, terrorist attacks and the wars in the
Middle East. In a chilling coincidence, most of these events are occurring in this lifetime. The war in Afghanistan, North Korea smugly detonating underground nuclear test missiles, the 9/11 terrorist attacks, Anthrax, SARS and now the H1N1 virus, global warming and climate change—glaciers the size of Texas in Antarctica melting at a rapid rate, the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, record high temperatures causing widespread forest fires and killing off several animal species as well as sub-zero winters never seen before, just to name a few… are all these signs of the times we are living in?
If you look at it objectively, no one can predict the future. Throughout history, generations and cultures have feared the end of the world one time or another, but they were all wrong. Even religion teaches us the same mindset. In Catholicism, we believe in the Second Coming of Jesus Christ, Judgment Day, which is also known as the end of the world. But at the same time, we don’t know when this is going to be. The moral teaching of this encourages us to live a good and clean life everyday because the world could very well end tomorrow.
From that standpoint, maybe having a little fear about the end of the world is healthy in a strange way. It urges us to live life to the fullest, to remind the people in our life how much they mean to us every day, to count our blessings, to wake up to a new day and be grateful simply because the sun still shines brightly in the sky and we continue to live, even if this moment is all we have left.
On December 21, 2012, I would have just turned 32. I would probably be married then. Although I am still relatively young, I have lived a good and full life to my standards—enjoyed my childhood and youth, remained close to my family and God; I have fallen madly in love, experienced heartbreak and pain, traveled to new places, and have put to use my education by working in the corporate world. Who knows, maybe I would have also gotten around to writing a novel and going to Paris by then. That’s my own personal prediction. 
May 11, 2009 - Posted by Marge- 0 Comments
I was idly trawling the internet last night, watching videos of “Bones” on youtube, smiling at Booth and Brennan who seemed to be a perfect fit, then all at once saw a particular picture of them that resembled another couple I fell in love with a long time ago: Chris Lorenzo and Rita Lance.
The next second my fingers were flying over the keyboard to type “Silk Stalkings” in the search box, and wouldn’t you know it, several matches came up. I was immediately transported to the latter part of 1993, the TV in my bedroom blaring on Wednesday nights at 9 PM (after GMA’s Best) as I faithfully tuned in to the program that started my TV addiction for years to come. Sergeants Chris Lorenzo and Rita Lance, Palm Beach Police Department’s ‘dynamic duo’, meant so much to me they practically existed in my 12-year old reality.
It wasn’t so much the cases they solved– crimes of passion in posh, ultra-wealthy Palm Beach, Florida– that drew me in, not by a long shot, but rather the relationship between the two gorgeous leads. They shared great chemistry– worked well together, flirted a bit, bickered a lot. They were best friends who were (over)protective of each other and would lay their lives down for the other without a second thought. Their friendship was platonic but often times contained an undercurrent of romance that rose up to the surface during a few episodes.
My fervent adolescent wish was for them to end up together. Chris and Rita’s relationship set the standard as my definition of a perfect romance– a good foundation for a relationship began with friendship before developing into something more– as I grew up, this standard I believe in even to this day, a jaded 28-year old multinational employee; light-years away from the scrawny wide-eyed 12-year old high school freshman I once was.
Tragedy then struck when GMA 7 suddenly replaced ‘Silk Stalkings’ after less than three seasons with another Stephen J. Cannell production, action series ‘Renegade’ (that would shortly sink down to the bottom of TV history). I was in tears as I watched the last episode they aired– a devastated Chris believing Rita had been murdered in her apartment, later revealing the body to be Rita’s house sitter. As last episodes went, it was a great one, since the storyline explored their relationship and further reinforced their bond by the end of the hour. I was infinitely sad as I closed the TV afterwards because I thought they were destined to be just friends forever, and that was the end of it.
It wasn’t until a few years later I learned that they did end up together in the fifth season. They got married and Rita got pregnant (not in that order). But they didn’t ride off into the sunset as I hoped; right after their beach wedding Chris was shot and killed by a hired assassin that kidnapped Rita. She then handed in her badge and gun and left Palm Beach to parts unknown in order to raise their unborn child in peace. Sometimes fiction is closer to reality than we think.
Since then, I’ve moved on to other onscreen couples– Scandal & Danielle (Cobra), Dr. Quinn & Sully (Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman), Doug Ross & Carol Hathaway (ER), Max & Kenny (Picket Fences), Mulder & Scully (The X-Files), Booth & Brennan (Bones); pairings with good chemistry and happy endings. But Chris & Rita, my original dynamic duo– like all warm and fuzzy childhood comforts– is the one that feels most like home to me. 
February 10, 2009 - Posted by Marge- 1 Comment
Got this idea from a tag topic on Facebook. Just thought I’d post a copy here. J
1. I was christened Maria Margarita at birth. The former given by my dad who wanted ‘Maria’ to be part of his daughters’ names, and the latter courtesy of my mom’s favorite cocktail. My childhood nickname was EmEm– a chopped-up version of the first letters of my names. A neighbor of mine used to call me Gremlin, but that’s another story.
2. Contrary to what most people know, I am not an only child. I had a baby sister named Maria Cecilia (nicknamed Macee) who was born prematurely in 1984 and died 16 days later.
3. I wrote my first poem when I was eleven. It was entitled ‘Imaginary Love’. J
4. My favorite food in the whole world is my mom’s mashed potatoes. I could eat them for the rest of my life.
5. When I was in sixth grade, I secretly sent my crush typewritten love letters signed in code (inspired by my Nancy Drew phase). To my mortification, he eventually found out who I was.
6. I can see ghosts. (insert scary music here)
7. As seemingly prim & proper as I am now, I was the kind of kid who climbed roofs, played patintero and hide & seek with the other neighborhood kids, and ate fishballs sold on the street (with chili and sweet sauce mixed together, yummy!). We rode our bicycles everywhere during summer vacations, and played and danced in the rain during the rainy months.
8. I love to read ever since I could remember. I can spend four straight hours with my nose buried in a good book.
9. At the office, I absolutely cannot work without music playing in the background. The silence is suffocating for me. (Which is kinda ironic, because outside the office I find silence comforting.)
10. I spent my worst and best birthday in 2002 when my dad was in the ICU after undergoing a triple bypass at the
Heart Center. He left me a birthday card with actual instructions to access his will and bank documents in the event of his death. But on the morning of my birthday, he regained consciousness and groggily waved to me from the window of the ICU. It was the best birthday gift I ever received.
11. I believe in reincarnation and would like to undergo past life regression hypnosis. I once dreamt I was being chased in the woods at night by village people with torches screaming bloody murder. As crazy as it sounds, I have the strangest feeling I was a witch in a past life.
12. In college, I was supposed to graduate cum laude but didn’t because of a single measly subject that didn’t make the cut-off grade. It was a math subject. L
13. I can be a great friend, but once a friend hurts or betrays me, it’s impossible for me to go back to the way things were. Most of the time I just have to walk away.
14. My dream is to go to Paris and write a novel.
15. I used to love watching horror movies (I didn’t even flinch when I watched ‘The Exorcist’), until I hit my mid-20’s for some weird reason. Now Reagan scares the crap out of me.
16. Some of my friends say I’m neurotic because I tend to over-analyze things to death.
17. To date, I’ve had three boyfriends: my first love, my escape hatch, and my true love.
18. A professor courted me when I was a college sophomore; he was handsome and smart and the crush on campus (then again, that’s not saying much since it was an exclusive school). Then one day he just disappeared. I later read in the paper that he was jailed due to rape of a minor.
19. I’m OC when it comes to accessorizing. I’m one of those crazy people who can’t leave the house wearing a black belt and brown shoes. LOL J
20. When I was 15, I modeled for a teen magazine. Then five years later, the magazine went out of circulation.
21. My first job after college at a Japanese engineering firm was like a corporate boot camp. It was hell, but after a year, I emerged from it a more mature and resilient person.
22. I love theme parks and all the scary rides that come with it.
23. Places that provide me solace are churches and bookstores.
24. I absolutely love cold weather. If I could, I’d be perfectly happy to live in Baguio or Tagaytay.
25. I love my life and I thank God everyday for all the blessings He’s given me.
July 23, 2008 - Posted by Marge- 1 Comment
It was the floss that did it this time.
Staring at a travel-sized compact of “minty fresh!” floss hanging innocuously from its hook, I felt maudlin all over again. He had been relocated to the other side of the country and all I could think of was the fact that he was looking for a good brand of floss shortly before he left.
It really was the little things that got you.
The other day I was looking for a belt bag for the gym in the luggage department of the same store and I spotted a line of good laptop bags. He needed one of those, too. If he were still living in the area I would instinctively text him about my new find and we would take a look at the laptop bags the next day after he picks me up from the office.
But distance has a way of magnifying little things such as these, giving them greater significance that would otherwise be trivial on an ordinary day. He still gets to come home twice a month, a fact I greedily drink up like a cold drink on a scorching afternoon.
He is the one I have loved the longest—unadulterated, without pretense– and being apart from him is agony. I try to keep in mind that this is only a temporary arrangement, that sacrifice is a necessity for the fulfillment of a dream much greater and encompassing, and sometimes it helps. But other times I can only take it one day at a time without romanticizing a compact of floss.
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Have you watched those movies (The Weatherman) or music videos (Alanis Morissette’s ‘Thank You’) that contain a scene in which a character is standing still in the foreground while everyone in the background in moving fast forward in a blur? That’s how I feel about my work sometimes. Like everyone else is headed somewhere—a promotion, a transfer, changing jobs—while I just remain stationary behind my desk, a pen in one hand, my boss’s calendar in the other for the past 5 years.
I’ve gone through the not-so-unusual myriad of emotions associated with the life of a job—initial trepidation, eventual adaptation, consistency, restlessness, resignation, apathy. On bad days I hated my bed-tempered boss and resented my routine work, found it to be outright meaningless. On better days, I figured myself lucky enough to have a job—a good one at that—in a world of economic recession, political strife and national discord thrown in for good measure.
Rather comically, with the recent slew of period novels on European monarchy that’s been sitting on my nightstand table, I imagine myself to be the post-modern corporate version of a lady-in-waiting living in the King’s Court. Not royalty, but close to one. Sitting atop a tower of grandeur beside the dictator monarch, keeping watch over the rest of the townspeople and land below with a marvelous view, chin held up in a regal air, in all her lonely existence.
