My mother has just finished adorning the interiors and exteriors of the house with every Christmas decoration possible. We’ve got the requisite  plastic Christmas tree inside the house; outside,  sparkly red Christmas balls hang on some trees in the garden.

The front screen door has exactly 51 small bells, I kid you not, while the door to the den has 10. Even the stair railings have bells on them.

“Para tayong sari-sari store,” one of my sisters complained as she held up two “Merry Christmas!” signs that my mom had asked her to put up somewhere. I’m not sure where the signs went, but I won’t be surprised if I see them posted on the gate tomorrow morning.

All in all, though, we’re pretty jolly this season. Or at least I’m making a conscious effort not to go on Scrooge mode despite the string of disasters that happened this year and the fact that this is our first Christmas without my Lolo Romy, who passed away last January after a long battle with Alzheimer’s Disease. There are just so many other things to be thankful for, and other things to look forward to.

Anyway, I had initially intended to write a Christmas wish list, but I’ve come to realize that all I want for Christmas–aside from world peace–is money, glorious money. And maybe a chainsaw, ’cause you never know when zombies might strike. Come to think of it, though, my family would probably be sufficiently warned–thanks to the bells on the doors.

A couple of weeks ago, the office had an overnight team-building trip to Tanauan in Batangas. The whole experience was pretty memorable, but my favorite moment was when an officemate who checked out the bedrooms early said in disbelief, “Oh my God, like, our rooms are extremely predetermined.”

This was my destiny:

‘Nuff said.

yes, vampires and the occult were significant parts of my childhood

There was a time, I was 13 I think, when a part of me actually believed I was–waitforit–a vampire slayer. I was the fastest runner in my batch, I could jump incredibly high, and I could open softdrink bottles when nobody else could.

Why having those abilities led me to conclude that I must be some mythical figure destined to battle evil, I do not know. But it was fun for a while, because my bestfriends joined the fantasy. I had a sheepish Willow (my shy best friend H), and a goofy Xander (my sometimes-boyfriendish-friend J). I had a yaya who “taught” the “spells.” All that was missing was some stakes and crossbows. And of course, vampires.

The Sam Raimi classic “The Evil Dead” scared the living daylights out of me when my dad made me watch it when I was 10. I remember having nightmares about the zombified Linda’s hysterical laugh and vowing to stay away from cellar doors–even though I’ve never seen one–in fear of Cheryl coming out.

no, this isn't from "The Exorcist"

I also remember wanting a chainsaw for Christmas.

Watching ” The Evil Dead,” however, was a painful but necessary initiation rite into the wonderful world of zombie movies.  George Romero is now one of my heroes. You’re not  my friend if you haven’t seen “28 Days Later” and/or “28 Weeks Later,” the best zombie movies in recent years. And I now judge a vehicle by its capacity to protect me from zombies.

My sister, who is almost as into this as I am, agrees that there is wisdom in having a panic room just like in “Diary of the Dead.” Tweaked according to my personal preferences, the room would include the following:

1. Dozens of screens showing views from hidden cameras strategically placed in various parts of the house. This is a must for all panic rooms.

2. DVDs, lots. In case I get bored monitoring the cameras. DVD collection to include “Mean Girls” and “Kung Fu Panda.”

3. All kinds of firearms imaginable, with tons of ammo to boot. Also, a crossbow would be nice. It won’t be very effective against zombies, but it would be…nice.

4. A sword! A samurai sword!

5. Mountains of food, including the ever-reliable chicken adobo, chocolate chip cookies, and ingredients for making pizza.

6. A personal computer or a laptop with Internet connection and all the music files I need to keep me sane and cool. That reminds me: room will also include drums and a guitar so I can hone my musical skills while I’m stuck there.

6. Books.

7. One to three companions; preferably male, decent-looking, smart, funny, and reasonably strong.

I am so saving this list for future reference.

Since I finally realized how weird it is to write the “official version” of an event for work and a “behind-the-scenes” version for my blog, I’ll keep my post about last night’s NU Rock Awards short and sweet.

In fact, the highlight for me can be summed up in one picture:

my childhood crush, the ultimate bestfriend-turned-boyfriend

And I shall now proceed to disappear from the face of the planet.

In an attempt to document what happened to our community because of “Ondoy”– and yeah, for work purposes, though I try to distance this blog from work–I put on my dad’s boots and went out of the house today. Among what I saw:

We’re going to try to relocate to my aunt’s place in Makati tomorrow morning, as long as there’ll be decent transportation. I don’t mind riding in a pedicab or a makeshift raft to get to a dry commercial area, but my mom is hypertensive, plus we’ll be bringing lots of clothes (for ourselves, and for donation purposes).

I’m looking forward to finally being able to help out. This disaster struck me in ways I never imagined. I still have one good friend in Cainta who’s unaccounted for, one who’s still stuck on the roof of her house, and countless more who lost everything.

[Some links that might be useful to others who want to reach out:  urgent cases needing rescue, list of verified relief centers]

We just got our electricity back after a 24-hour blackout due to storm Ondoy. We’ve been here at Pasig/Cainta for 15 years now, but I don’t remember our streets ever flooding due to the rain. Until now.

My younger sister hasn’t gone home since Friday, because the roads leading up to our village are worse.  She’s currently staying with a classmate in Quezon City, and probably won’t be home ’til tomorrow. Maybe ’til Tuesday.

But our situation is nothing compared to other areas. Floodwaters have completely taken over the first floor of my mom’s best friend’s house in another part of Pasig. There are hundreds, maybe thousands more people who need help; who have lost their property, their homes, and some, their lives.

Donations can be dropped off at three areas: at the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD) center at the Batasan complex in Quezon City, at the DSWD National Capital Region (NCR) Office in Quiapo, Manila, and at the DSWD National Resource Operations Center in Pasay City.  Contact details can be found here, while disaster emergency hotlines can be found here.

Stay safe, everyone. And help out when you can.

Thanks to today’s inspiring (and I use that word without a hint of sarcasm) video editing training, I’ve come up with a mini-list of stuff to buy before January 2010:

1. A new phone with a built-in camera that’s better–or at least as good–as the one in the Motorazr2 V8 I lost last month (2.0 megapixel camera with 8x zoom). How did I lose that precious gem? Let’s just say despedida-related merrymaking + four-inch heels at 3 in the morning isn’t exactly the best formula for alertness.

2. My own Netbook, because lugging around the large office-issued laptop has been proven bad for my health and my social life. Negative effects include leg bruises,  perpetually sore shoulders, and inability to wear killer heels when necessary–all of which put me in a generally bad mood.  And we all know frowning uglifies you.

3. A digital SLR May hangganan din dapat ang pangangarap kahit libre.

Okay, I didn’t dance. I basically just hopped around puddles of rainwater like a seven-year-old. But man, letting the rain pour down on you–emo-sounding, I know, ugh–for nearly two hours was one of the most innocent but liberating experiences ever.

I just came back from a four-day training with the PCIJ in Subic, wherein I got to affirm my beliefs that a lot of politicians are dimwits who follow a script written by their handlers, and that the media doesn’t do enough to pounce on those dimwits.

I’m too lazy to go into details–details that I could’ve captured on film if I had the time and the good sense to pack my digital camera. But let’s just say I’m kinda inspired on many levels (does not include waking up at 6:30 a.m. every weekday morning). Bring it on, Universe.

I’m back to blogging after a two-month hiatus that included a break-up with The Bassist, stressful 9am-11pm work days, and unpublishable general craziness.

I wasn’t able to finish any book until late August, when one of my best friends urged me to read this thing about Jack Kerouac. Anyway, that got me back on track. A snapshot of the latest acquisitions:

finish us, they cry