Game of Thrones: Ice and Fire! Wear Your House Proudly (and pray to the gods, old and new, that it's not burning...or at least not yet)

You bought the volumes a few years ago. You have read and re-read them...say, three or four times. You watched the HBO series, with the complete understanding that the show is a show and the books are well...books. So expectations are set somewhat correctly: that they would be different, of course. This did not prevent those 'cringing' and 'wringing-your-hands' moments though. But you survived, with your sanity in tact. Still.

Season five is done, so you re-watched the series from the start. That is about 3000 minutes of your life. But so far, The Winds Of Winter is still barely a whispher in the wind. Dust in the wind. It is known. It is no use pleading with George Martin. He will kill all of the characters, thousands of them, if people irk him enough about writing like a wind. He is the author, so he will write as he pleases, when he pleases. It is known. All that you can do is pray to the gods, the old as well as the new ones, for his health. And that he would stay away from pork and beans (what?bad joint pains could be extremely bothersome, you know?) for the time being. You will never ever forgive him if he perishes before the saga is concluded. I am sure there are hundreds of others out there that would call upon the Lord of Light to bring him back, just so they could stick Ice (or whatever is left of it) between his hollowed heart, if that happens. Three words: Get. In. Line. Nah. You are not one for violence. The thing is, between the re-readings and the re-watchings, you have warmed up to the White Walkers and their beautiful blue eyes, that you might as well end up rooting for them...at the end of it all. Well, you know, Robert Frost said that for destruction Ice Is also great And would suffice. Cannot argue with the poet, he is the boss.  

True, this waiting game is no fun. But as they say, when you play the game...you win, or you die. So while at it, why not wear your House shirt. Any moment could be your last moment after all. Haha, the theatrics.

Painted this with acrylic. Armor-like, eh? FRONT

Back.

All together now. Dracarys.

I also made House Stark. Big shirt.
Could not find any other plain shirt at the time.

Up North. Up close.

So, dear friends. Wait in style.

Guimaras Es-cah-pay (It's spelled just like the word ESCAPE)

Dory: [Reading a door] Hey, look. "Esc-a-pay". Hey, it's spelled just like escape...

Earlier this year, I visited Guimaras. Twice. The first was a three-day visit, and the second (it was after a month), a five-day visit. Obligation. Well, sort of, but not really. Each visit was a welcomed E-S-C-A-P-E (es-cah-pay!) for me. A break, though sans KitKat. I have only been to Iloilo and Guimaras four times in my life, and truth is, I have not seen much of the place as I would have liked to. But I take what I can get.

Guimaras is a small island famous for its super-sweet mangoes. Truism. You can get there through plane via Iloilo. From the Iloilo airport you can take a cab or van to Iloilo City harbor (Ortiz Wharf) which will take an hour or so, and then a take boat ride (about 15 minutes, I think) to Jordan, which is the main port of entry in Guimaras. Once you get there, it is a free reign. Be Dora the explorer--no need for a map, just your trusty backpack. You will be fine and dandy.

I enjoyed my stay there. I did plenty of walking (I am very fond of walking, I am saying this the Elizabeth Bennet way), eating (fresh fish, fresh vegetables), and sleeping. I find that the place is very conducive to introspection. The houses are far apart, the air everywhere is fresh, the roads are clean and "new-ish", the stars seemed to shine brighter there; and goodness...I have not seen so much of the color green since goodnesswhen. And it was exhilarating. Truly so. It is a peaceful place; and no, not in the "if a yawn could yawn" peaceful kind of way. A beautiful, peaceful place.

My old "Clicking-Away" ways....Click 1, 2, 3, 4

Like the windmills of your mind. In the municipality of San Lorenzo. Cool.

Alobijod Cove. My first taste of salt-water in almost two years. Just keep swimming, Dory.

What can I say? It was a great Es-cah-pay!

Dory, you are such an inspiration, mate!

And that is all folks. I wish you all a wonderful e-s-c-a-p-e, too.

How (The) Lorde Saved My Phone From A Pickpocket (yes, you know who you are, sir)

She stopped singing. Seriously.


Commuting is not something that could be rightly considered as one of the banes of a normal human being's existence. Inefficient, terrible transportation system is (this is in tie with dreadful drainage system in my books). Just imagine: the crowd waiting in line, the crawling traffic, the noise and pollution (sometimes I fear of developing lung cancer and I do not even smoke). One could never grow accustomed to it all. I highly doubt it. And this is coming from a person who has been commuting most of her life. Moi. 


But hey...there may be people (super people) out there who are totally fine with commuting. You know, like "No sweat!". Well, I will have you know that being at peace with it is a gift; so if you have it, treasure it. Good for you. However, for the majority—normal un-gifted people—this mundane, unavoidable part of daily life, is a very powerful stress contributor. So, kudos to you my dear fellows!


Well, it was one ordinary Monday morning, a few weeks ago, and I was engaging in this aforementioned mundane activity when a miracle happened. Most of the times, when I am commuting, I put on my headphones and play some music because it helps tune out the noises. The song that I play (yes, I usually just play one song on loop and yes, i am crazy that way) depends on how I feel when I wake up in the morning. If I am feeling chirpy, I play an Ella Fitzgerald song or one from Bessie Smith or Bob Dylan perhaps. If I feel a bit gloomy, I turn to Edith Piaf's "La Vie En Rose" or Pachelbel's "Cannon D" or Beethoven's "Fur Elise" or Bach's "Prelude in C Major" or Dvorak's "Humoresque". If I do not feel anything at all (or I could not discern what I was feeling), I usually just play anything random from Muse's "Uprising" to bond's "Victory" to "Winter Wonderland" (I listen to Christmas songs only when it is not Christmas), to the Voltes V theme. Anyways, that morning (since I have been binging on pop music these past couple of months) it was Lorde's "Team" on loop. So, I was inside this public utility vehicle and Lorde was singing "...and you know, we're on each other's team..." repeatedly while we were going through some bumpy parts of the road and suddenly it stopped. Silence. I was taken back to Earth (yes, my mind usually floats somewhere else). I checked my bag and the headphone jack was detached from the socket. I just shrugged; I put it back and pressed play again. I did not think any more of it, until the vehicle stopped and the man beside me, along with another man sitting on the other side, hurriedly got off. Then the person sitting in front of me said "Miss, he was trying to pick your bag. Have you lost something?" And I know I was supposed to say "Then why did you not say anything at all!", but I understand he was probably scared; and so I just said "No, nothing. But I believe he was trying to get my phone...". 

Then it all dawned on me that the Lorde saved my phone; and I was like "Thank you, Lorde!" (I swear this sounds funny if I am telling you this little story in person).  Thank you for being in my team. 


But why on earth would that person try to pick my phone when he knew I was listening to something in it, is beyond me. Surely he knew that the track I was listening to would either stop or blast out loudly (in case of different phone make or model) and therefore would rouse or confirm suspicions, right? Or perhaps he was planning to scurry away once he grabbed the phone...jumping out of the vehicle and all. Well, I should also say thank you to something called I.Q. and "Thank you again, Lorde!" (Insert all the theatrics here: pouring rain, while kneeling on the ground, both fists in the air, eyes closed, head tilted upwards, great thunder and lightning in the background. All that hilarious jazz.)


Here's Lorde:

Props to Lorde and the "Team". Now I am indebted.