 
### Surreality

CARISSA VILLACORTA

In New York, dreams come true on a daily basis...

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2006 by Carissa Villacorta

Special digital edition published in 2011

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews, without written permission.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

DESIGN TEAM

Editor:

John Paul Geoffrey Y. Su

Creative Director:

John Paul Geoffrey Y. Su

Photographers:

CJ Rivera

Troi Santos

Michael F. Lacanlale

Layout Artist:

Troi Santos

Cover Artists:

Glenn S. Sarsale

Michael F. Lacanlale

Troi Santos

Robbie Villegas
Reviews for Surreality

Someone you wish you could meet

Dear Ms. Carissa Villacorta,

I've ignored Filipino/a-authored books until I've encountered yours, and I suddenly find myself leafing through _Surreality_ a million times more than I ever did with Harry Potter, my J.Wilson books, and my security blanket that is the Sleepover Club series. There is so much good vibes in your book that I feel if you were in my place right now, you would've known 100% what to do: which to choose, where to go, and who to be.

I read your book and tell myself, "this, this is what I want to be." But as easy and as well footed you found your place, I'm having the most difficulty finding mine. So if we could only meet for the briefest time, even if it's online, I think it'd clear so much mess I have in my head.

But your book, endlessly open, under my pillow is enough consolation for now. Someday, maybe.

Love,

your biggest fan, or so I claim

\- Lian Buan, http://namialoen.tumblr.com  
@liannami

"I never imagined that a single piece of paperback can actually save your life in an instant. In my case, there's a resounding amount of bliss after reading Carissa Villacorta's "Surreality" in a gloomy Saturday afternoon in my dig. The book reveals the different angles of life living in a highly urbanite city through the eyes of a Southeast Asian Pinay lass. It is a see-through of realism, a manifestation of changes without losing one's values in life, as well as a platform for inspirations.

Carissa's style of writing is far better than Dr. Phil's advices. I don't even remember when was the last time I finished a book in one single sitting. I didn't realize it was so engrossing that I forgot to pee in between pages. "Surreality" has been the most indispensable book I ever had, never in my entire 27 years of existence been influenced by a single piece of publication. The curation of the author's ideas and thoughts has been so commanding that I became a move-forward guy, a bliss-follower and optimistic in every action. I am so grateful that I found the book before I decide to take Tylenols.

- Rod P, Suicide Survivor & Surfer

- @ROPO_

It's Carissa Villacorta!

I can't believe this just happened. I can't believe that the author of my favorite book replied to my note.

I'm really surprised and happy that she acknowledged me because the book she wrote, Surreality, has touched me in so many ways. I am amazed how through her writing, her thoughts and ideas influenced me. It inspired me to continue dreaming. Surreality by Carissa Villacorta is my favorite book along with By The River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept by Paulo Coelho and The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom. The beautiful flow and the inspiration it brings to the reader are just amazing.

I love the line in her book, "Time is gold, money is paper" such a beautiful and realistic quote to ponder; it makes us all realize that when a person is dying, he wouldn't wish for more money but more time. Surreality is close to my heart because I can relate to it. I see myself in her, full of views, dreams, and visions. I will never forget how she wrote me these four lines: "wonder/wander, believe/live aspire/inspire and dream/do."

Thank you Ms. Carissa, for writing. May God be your guidance on your second book, I'll surely wait for it.

\- Jan Magsalin, 2008

On Twitter:

liannami Lian Buan

I love him and @carissav too; Surreality and Zahir changed my life. RT @carissav I love @paulocoelho

2 Apr 2011

**crackledpepper** @carissav Hi Carissa! Surreality's one of my fave books. ;p

4 May 2011

ROPO_ Rod P

This is the first time of the year I finished a book. Surreality by my fave local author/writer Carissa Villacorta. #ContemporaryLiterature

7 May 2011

liannami **Lian Buan**

Not everyday that your favorite writer reads your article & congratulates you. I DIE. RT @carissav @liannami Congrats on your dream job! :)

31 July 2011

Other Reviews

"I'm such a nerd that I actually jotted down some "notes" while reading her articles. I love her coinage of "fortunate accidents" because that is an element that epitomizes NYC, that's the magic of being in this city. You never know what can happen."

\- Johanna Martinez, social worker, New York

"Carissa is not only gifted, but is a gift to all of us who read her pieces and are blessed to meet her and be her friends. I read all her pieces and loved them all. She is a terrific writer whose writing is truly lucid, smart, wise, and deep in a breezy way. And I will not qualify that by adding 'for someone her age.' No, she's on her way to becoming to a great, published writer and I hope she'll remember one day that I said that. She'll be like an Anna Quindlen, only better.

Carissa is one of my life's biggest finds - as a writer and as a human being... Young people don't get any better. "

\- Vincent Nebrida, screenwriter, producer, "American Adobo," "Crying Ladies"

"She has the talent of eloquently putting in writing all the little thoughts that come to mind. Her articles have a pulse on the heart of New Yorkers and definitely the guts to just put it all out there. Good for her and for us her readers."

\- Kimberly Chow, banker - New York

"Reading her articles was almost like a gliding experience. I read all her pieces in one sitting. And that's her outstanding quality - simplicity. Easy writing. Easy reading. Her thoughts flowed without effort, and I found myself taken to various places with her - back at home with her family at dinnertime, in taxicabs as she rushes around NY, in her kitchen, as she struggles with meal-making. And then, as I was caught up in her stories, she hit me with some serious thoughts. Wow! That reaction was precisely what ran through my mind. "Wow" - that such a young mind could come up with something almost sublime.

Not only did I find her articles inspiring, I found myself soul-searching after I read them. It's difficult to stop and imagine such deep thoughts could come from someone so young. When did she become so brilliant ?"

\- Edna Gotia-Tan, writer - Vancouver

"My favorite is her article 'In a Moment'. I identified with everything she wrote. I feel them sometimes, but she captured everything in words. Amazing!. Reading her articles makes me wants to experience life as she is experiencing it –by being."

  * Michiko Yamamoto

Award-winning screenwriter, "Magnifico," "Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros"

"To read Carissa is to be inspired to approach life with less caution and more passion. Her observations about human foibles are as rich as they are disarmingly simply told."

-Raymond Lee, award-winning screenwriter and producer, "

Tanging Yaman," "Anak," "Ang Pagdalaga ni Maximo Oliveros"

"Carissa writes with more depth and substance than any other writer her age. Her pieces should be more accessible to the public so that more people will be reached and pleased.

\- Ditsi Carolino, award-winning documentary filmmaker, "Minsan Lang Sila Bata," "Riles," "Bunso"

"I've just discovered her Surreality column in Philippine News, late perhaps, but with great delight.

At first, I thought: Inq7.net , the cyber version of Phil. Daily Inquirer has an ongoing arrangement with Philippine News Online to reprint three or four of their articles a month; why not reprint this first-class writer?

And you know, it isn't so much the potential (her pieces are fully fleshed) as the "potency" - the power - of her being that's the constant. This is the bright hope: that this potency will come to full expression in dialogue with the world and itself."

\- Sylvia L. Mayuga, Editor, Global Nation, Inq7.net

"I find "soul" between the lines of Carissa's writings. In a city that makes you feel like you're on a constant treadmill, it can be so easy to lose yourself and be calloused. How refreshing it is to know that someone young and grounded is able to share her thoughts and experiences – inspiring one to spend more time 'looking in.'"

\- Dindi Gallardo, writer/filmmaker

Nothing beats a generous mix of youthful exuberance and deep thinking. Carissa Villacorta's book "Surreality" cuts through the layers of superficiality that is materialism's premiere spirit. Life-and-death issues do not command the typical young adult, but Villacorta who is in her 20s has stared them down with Grace, since a little vision of New York started her on a path of "dreamy" realism. Lyrical prose and poetic ruminations characterize Surreality, Villacorta's collection of writings...

\- Hernan M. Hormillosa, Oct 25, 2006, Philippine News

Surreality is 'a classic masterpiece.' a highly praised and applauded collection of essays from this 'promising, young writer.'

\- Newstar Philippines, December 2006
Surreality

Contemporary life – in all its shapes, sizes and imperfections – is the subject of Surreality, Carissa Villacorta's acclaimed collection of essays. As a young Filipina surrounded by people, events and experiences in New York City, she ponders on life's mysteries: its joys, conflicts, and compromises. A big theme to take on, but she writes with specificity and simplicity; her heart is for the taking as she turns glib notions into impassioned dissertations for us, the living wounded. It's old-fashioned wisdom mingled with new-age wonder: a singular mix that Surreality brims with and basks in.

Carissa's sense of empathy is charming, natural and bountiful - the extraordinary gift that she shares with her readers. If her fan base is huge, it is no accident. The effusiveness of people's responses is matched only by Carissa's commitment to inspire her readers in rich, incandescent ways. As you will discover by embracing this book, her words are the kind that we need to read in today's postmodern world. The only way to get a clearer, sharper view of life would be a visit to an eye doctor: no fun compared to the wit and vitality that Ms. Villacorta brings to each of her delightfully entertaining pieces.

To my beloved _Lola_ ,

Atty. Priscilla A. Villacorta

Table of Contents

Foreword

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Letter from Today

Prologue

New York and Hugh

In A Moment

Daily Philosophy

Our 5-to-9 lives

In-Kind Contributions

Happily Ever Since

Read, Live, Write

Time is Gold, Money is Paper

1,000 People To Meet Before You Die

Raise Your Hands

Living and Dying Expenses

The Prodigal Daughter

Epilogue

About the Author

# Foreword

Vincent R. Nebrida

" _An hour of great conversation, when with a phenomenal_ _human being, could affect and inspire you for a lifetime."_

\- Carissa Villacorta, " _1,000 People To Meet Before You Die_ "

I met Carissa Villacorta the writer first before I met Carissa Villacorta the person. At least I initially thought so. In the film industry where I belong, there's often a dichotomy between the person's work and who the person is in real life. Without naming names, it has been my experience that many writers betray the thoughts and beliefs that they so persuasively espouse in their films or on the written page. Not so with Carissa (or Ms. Villacorta). When I finally got introduced to her–and eventually had my first lunch with her–my feeling was that I had truly known her already through her writing, and that the writer and the person are one. Indeed one.

For me, and for those of you who will soon know her through this outstanding collection of essays, what makes her remarkable–as a writer and as a person–is her ability to think clearly and write insightfully about everyday passions and timeless truths, matters obscured by our deluded quest for money and success or shoved aside by mundane priorities. Her concerns may not be new, but she makes them fresh by asking us to go to places that we no longer have the time or the memory to revisit. Even better, she finds the pulse that beats in all our hearts: the doubts, the fears, the longings and insecurities, the intimations of mortality that hit us more often now, by living in a post-AIDS, post-9/11 world.

It matters not that Carissa is a Filipina who's in her 20s and living in New York City; her take on day-to-day living is completely relatable and is almost certain to touch anyone regardless of their citizenship, gender, age, place of residence, or religious denomination.

What's astounding is that she is able to demonstrate, in the very specificity of her time and place, how connected we all are, how consequential we all are to each other. In an age agog with cell phones, palm pilots and ipods, here's someone, ironically from this tech-savvy generation, who's got her humanity in check, who's able to see beyond her

own self, and whose moral outlook in life remains surprisingly grounded and optimism relatively intact.

Not that Ms. Villacorta ever resorts to easy uplift. One of the joys of reading her work is seeing how she navigates, along with us, her thoughts through life's trials and tribulations. Slowly, yet very reassuringly, she tells us–in my personal favorite "Time is Gold, Money is Paper"–how any man in his dying bed will "not be asking for more money, but for more time." In "Our 5-to-9 Lives," she cautions against our sometimes all-too-selfish careerist motives at the expense of our friends and loved ones. In "Happily Ever Since," she reflects on the vagaries of love and marriage on the occasion of her friend's wedding. And in pieces like "New York and Hugh" and "1,000 People to Meet Before You Die" (another fave), she mulls how choices and destinies can collide, wittily summing up the possibilities of life with the zinger "strangers are just friends we just haven't met yet." Over and over, through her keen observations and incisive writing, Ms. Villacorta enters the recesses of our hearts and minds, articulating the unspoken, the subconscious, the sublime.

I think Ms. Villacorta will gain more admirers not just because of her light, deft touch or entertainingly fluid style, but also because of the wisdom and inspiration that she so selflessly passes on to her readers. This book offers no new great philosophy, or even a better way to live, but I suspect it will cause to heal some broken hearts, calm some frayed nerves, rekindle some hopes and dreams, and possibly even bring some restful sleep to those who lead anguished lives.

I don't want to be so naïve as to predict what Carissa will do with her boundless writing talent in the future. I won't even pretend to know what lies in store for her or what she's planning to do with the rest of her very young and promise-filled life. All I know is that humanity kisses the page the moment Carissa hits the keyboard of her computer, and that we, her readers, are all the richer for it.

Vincent R. Nebrida wrote and produced "American Adobo" as well as co-executive produced "Crying Ladies." He has lived in New York City for 25 years, and has written film reviews and feature articles for various Philippine and American publications. He is currently finishing his new screenplay, "Woodside Story."

# Acknowledgements

I would like to thank, first and foremost, my family, Papa, Mommy, Ate Anna, and Kuya Carlo, who have supported me all my life, and allowed me, at a young age of 22, to fly to New York to create and be myself.

Secondly, I would like to thank Consul General Linglingay Lacanlale, who saw the potential in me, and for putting me in a place in the middle of midtown, in the center of the world, of things, people and events.

Thank you to Consul General Cecilia Rebong, Deputy Consul General Millie Sta. Maria-Thomeczek, Agnes Tuazon, and Consuls Lulay and Tinta, for encouraging me and giving me the freedom to write on my own and pursue my own bliss, outside the fun and happy world of the Community Affairs section of the Consulate General. Thank you too to my colleagues and friends for and sharing in every little excitement of my life.

Thank you Vincent Nebrida for the kind declarations, the continued support in this whole process, and for planting the seeds of thought and possibility.

The biggest thanks to my team of extremely talented and driven men who have made this book so much more than I have ever imagined. John Paul Su for his steadfast commitment, enthusiasm, and invaluable advice for all my concerns. CJ Rivera, for so generously lending his good eye and great taste, and for finding, in New York, the spots that connect well with the essence of each written piece. Troi Santos for coming to the rescue and providing what's needed. Mike Lacanlale for his generosity.

Thank you _Chelo Banal Formoso_ of the _Philippine Daily Inquirer_ , and Isabel Formoso; to _Philippine News,_ especially Editor-in-Chief _Lito Gutierrez_ and Managing Editor _Cristina Pastor_ , for providing the space where these essays found their first home, and to my biggest believers: _Vanessa Soto, Margarita Arguelles, , Pam Abastillas, Lora Nicolas, Johanna Martinez, Ted Martinez, Audie Umali, Victor Lirio, Lara Manjares, Paul Javier, Glenn Sarsale, Robbie Villageas, Marlon Sison, Peter Reyes, Alvin Castillo, Jimmy Fernandez, Jeff, and James. To my cousins, aunts and uncles._

A special shout out to those who write to me and respond to my published pieces. You are all very encouraging and heartwarming. I hope to meet you all one day.

Great gratitude to the Publishing House of the University of Santo Tomas, especially to Dr. Mecheline I. Manalastas, for including my book amongst those published in commemoration of the Dominican school's 400 years of existence as a cradle of canonical, scholastic and scientific excellence. It is an honor to be connected to an institution that shaped many great Filipino minds and hearts – including those of my dear parents Hector (Bachelor of Laws 1971) and Tess (Masters in Math - without thesis), uncle and aunts.

I thank the good city of New York where I am being and doing exactly what I am meant to be. To all the friends who participated in my shoots, thank you! And to everyone I met along the way: whether in my office, at trendy bars, or at some random spot in New York, but whose names have found it to the pages of my book, you've touched my life more than you'll ever know. Thank you.

Thank you God for bringing all these people into my life, and for not letting me be anywhere else.

# Introduction

One year ago, in March, I missed my stop on Fifth Avenue, and had to take the train back from Times Square. That's because the vision of this book – and Oprah – involuntarily came to my mind.

While first shy to share the thought with my family and friends, I was only met by smiles, shrieks and heartening words when I did. I shouldn't have faltered though, because my dad showed his support by placing stacks of books in my room in accordance to my field of the moment: fashion design, photography, journalism, and now, non-fiction writing. Thanks, Pa.

I never expected to receive an inbox full of "fan mail" the morning after my article on meeting Hugh Grant and other fortunate accidents in New York, came out on the front page of the Philippine Daily Inquirer's Lifestyle Section in February 2004.

If it were true that perspectives and lives of people in Singapore and Bahrain were changing because of my writing, then maybe I was embarking on something good. So I decided to continue.

I was only asking _Philippine News_ to print a feature I wrote up about Sesame Place in Philadelphia (a fantastic place, by the way), but they offered something bigger: my own column. When I was thinking of its title, I wanted something that would cover all the things that could and do happen in this city – the surreal and real – and the fine, fine line that divides them. Then, over a 1am coffee talk in the East Village, my friends Janette and Jamie celebrated the _"light-bulb- moment"_ with me. (Thanks, girls.) Of course, I also wanted something that would transition well on a book cover. I guess that's the tiny bit of foresight I had then – in October 2004.

With regard to topics, I never wanted to touch anything political or news commentary, mainly because everybody else was doing that. And because my interests don't really lie there, they can obviously comment better. Instead, I wanted to write about topics that every person, not necessarily Filipino, could relate to – the things that make us the same, not the things that make us different. I wanted to share the positive perspective - a different way of looking at daily events so that we can perennially have a happy and peaceful pace in life.

And then I added the blogs to my daily exercise mainly because of an experience that truly exposed the roller coaster façade of New York City - thus the title " _Rollercoaster Ride._ " It was also a way to dispose my thoughts daily, and deposit them in a readily-publishable site. The monthly column couldn't catch up with the daily thoughts either. I also hope the blogs would provide the readers of this book quick-read vignettes for the times when they really only have a moment.

And so, after hundreds of photo shoots and coffee shots with my team and I, here is the vision – the surreal become real – in your hands. Your support means a lot, so thank you from the bottom of my heart, and the center of New York.

Finally, I want to share the mantras that I've learned to live by in the few years that I've lived in New York: Allow yourself to be pleasantly surprised.

Don't force things, but be able to recognize good chances. _Allow your mind to wonder and wander. It will_ _make you miss your stops - but it will definitely take you_ _places._

Carissa Villacorta

16 March 2006, New York City

# Letter from Today

I am so happy that my readers say my book, _Surreality_ , is light, easy reading, yet has had a great, deep impact in their lives. One reader even told me, she's read it a million times, more than any other Harry Potter fantasy book, and keeps it under her pillow, endlessly open. I thank her and think that it's maybe because it's less fantasy and more reality, but still believes in the good of dreams and the good of others too.

But for me, I believe that the hardest book to read is your own. I haven't read my book in a little while, until today, when I had to push myself to read my own words before it was to become an ebook. Like how some actors cannot watch themselves on TV, I can't do that or read my writing either. Usually, after I write it, I send it out, without looking back. I'm sometimes apprehensive about the honesty in it, but for me, it is the only way to write - and live.

Perhaps also I was too busy living: meeting people, giving speeches, running events and other life stuff like teaching kids how to write, learning new skills from the best schools, and trying to live where the action was. Until 2008, that was in New York. In 2009, that was in DC and Boston. In between, I would go home to Manila to recharge - mostly by conversing with my now 94-year old Lola (grandma). I love those times, and I love spending time with her. We always share a laugh. Every sentence, no exag. Another comedian in the family is my now 5-yr old niece Julia. She always cracks jokes and has a great sense of humor. I wish I was kinda like her sometimes. I sure would learn a lot from the oldest and the youngest members of our family.

Then I remembered a boss, whom I just met one day this April. He said that maybe I should read my book again. Because he observed that the person he saw that day was different from the person he saw in the book. Well, the person he saw in person was tied to a job that she thought she shouldn't leave. It wasn't her passion, but it paid the bills. With the encouragement of the same boss who told me to never forget what God intended me to be, I remembered my dreams and became true to myself. I realized it was okay for me to leave the job if it became such a drudgery. It helped that my parents were there the day I made the decision, too. I knew that the me who wrote Surreality wouldn't have approved of keeping a job and living a life that looks forward to vacation. I always said that if you look forward to your vacation days, you have the wrong job. Well, I had the wrong job. So people, my learning is that these are the most important things: where you are, who you're with and what you do.

And let's not forget who we are. The truth is, we are more than other people think we are. They see only a side of us, or a part of our body. They see our hands that could increase their sales, our feet that could run errands, our mouths that could promote their business. But what they don't see is our capacity, our potential, our true skill, our gift, our talent and our true value. And we have to leave the people who are blind, before they make us blind to see that light within ourselves. We have to quit, and trust, that a better job, a more fulfilling life and a happier existence awaits us if we just keep true to ourselves and to everyone around us.

I also realized that in order to inspire, I also needed to be inspired. I was too busy working, that I had no time to wonder and wander – the things that fed my writing.

But all that changed this year, especially after the talk with that boss. He did say that there was a reason that we met that day. I became honest with myself again and became self-reflective on what I wanted and what I didn't want. What I liked and didn't like. What worked and what didn't work. I let go of things that didn't, and held on to things that did. I hope to continue to do the same and have the same courage, as the years go by. God, please help me.

And I have a new motto: to spend some quality time and quantity time every day. Quality time is time spent with friends, catching up, having coffee, or calling your family and checking in. It would also include the time to pray, relax and reflect. Quantity time is time we spend working. Working toward projects we are passionate about, or reaching business goals that feed us. My dad always reminds me about the biblical saying "Thou shall eat by the sweat of thy brow," which he translates to modern times to "Thou shall eat by the stress of thy mind or body." Yes - sometimes I eat $100 dollar meals, other times I eat one-dollar meals. Depends on how much I worked that week. Kidding. Anyway, meanwhile, my recent thought is that apart from the fact that having your own business is better than working for the boss, be sure that you are your own boss, and not your own slave.

After five years since releasing Surreality, I am still in New York, but not after respites in Manila, DC, and Boston to attend to important family events that are not to be missed, and grow in new environments. Last year, I got tired of New York and the energy of the concrete jungle, especially after I met some lions and tigers. When I moved to DC, I met sheep and (teddy) bears. And although I felt like fish out of water, I thought that the only way to meet new people was to be the new girl in town.

Was I right. New girl, new town. So just like my move to New York, I packed my bags, and moved to DC, lasting only three months as I couldn't stand the political talk, but leaving not before I saw the President. Then I remembered that I also always wondered what were inside the gates of Harvard, and how teachers there taught. Now I know, so I left again. Of course I missed New York. Especially after I heard all the speeches I could take. You know it's full of politicians there. In Boston there were a lot of academics. New York is full of artist and dreamers where you think you belong until after your dreams come true. Manila is full of family where everything starts and ends.

I remember, I was in DC when Obama was elected, in Boston when (Ted) Kennedy passed and Manila when Cory Aquino passed (two years ago today). Somehow, I was where the action was. Now I realize, wherever I am, is where the story goes. Wherever I am in the world, I know I have my family supporting me and my friends rooting for me, the same way that I support them and root for them too.

Now I am back in New York, but not to the same New York. The high-end stores on Fifth Avenue have closed and the most expensive real estate in the world is now littered by boutiques like Forever 21, Guess and Hollister and even Filene's Basement where you can buy items, not for $2500, but for $25.

What is happening to NYC? I always talked about the seven-year itch of living in New York. I believe that it only takes 7 years to make your dreams come true in the city. Then you have to leave to make room for new dreamers.

Maybe the same goes for businesses. They're always talking about the impending demise of the New York Times. Even Borders has closed all of its 1200 stores. And so I've decided, with a lot of long-standing encouragement from friends, to march to the changing times. Now, you can download Surreality on your eReader. (My special thanks to Mina V. Esguerra.)

Perhaps it is neither the same Carissa that came back to the new New York. I feel that I am still passionate, still driven, still dreaming, still wondering, and still wandering. I guess the same goes for my closest friends. They're also moving to Europe and Asia, mostly for career advancement, others for love and family.

And after all the hard work I'm putting in this year, I'm travelling to LA and London to enjoy Disneyland, the happiest place on earth, and London, my favorite spot in the world. I am back to wondering and wandering. I just have to stop working, and start playing again.

Reading the book today, five years later, or at least two years after the second edition, it was difficult to decide whether I should edit the little things that are outdated, so to speak. For example, the words Palm Pilot and Blockbuster are still mentioned there. Yet, I kept them there because I wanted to preserve the authenticity of the moment in which I wrote those thoughts .And I would like to think that even though the minute details in the book change as time passes, the themes from my essays will stand the test of time.

After all the travelling, the airport scenes and the adventures, I realize that every place has its own character: New York is artistic. DC is full of politics and advocacy, and Cambridge, Massachusetts is all academic. And Manila is simply family.

And after almost a decade of exploring the world on my own, it may just be time to go back to where the love is unconditional and infinite.

I still miss my Lola Priscilla and little Julia for whom life is simply so simple. I think that somewhere along the way of the rounds we take between toddler-age and old-age, we get confused. Life as we knew it as kids: simple, becomes oh so complicated once we get educated. But don't worry, it will become simple again. Because as they say, everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end. And sometimes, it's better that way - the story is still unfolding.

Carissa Villacorta

July 31 to August 1, 2011

New York City

**Rollercoaster Ride: #1:** **Current Status, Changing Address**

New Yorkers are so mobile. When they're not on the train, they're in a taxi, on the bus or on the plane. When they're not running meetings, they're running errands. When they're not walking, they're walking the dog.

They are ALWAYS on the road. They're also always moving.

Stay here for three years, you sleep in an average of 4 apartments, and a higher average of beds. You're a student - you live in a dorm. You get tired of curfew - you move on your own. You get a promotion - you move to Manhattan. They lay you off - you search in Weehawken. Your roommate is crazy - you move yet again. Your landlord is crazy - you run for your life. Your parents are coming - you look for more space. You find somebody - you move in with him. You lose him - you lose home too. You move far away - you get tired of commuting. Some New Yorkers simply get tired. They stay in that place? Then they lose their title... they're no longer New Yorkers.

Not only was I trying to fit six months worth of wardrobe into my suitcase, I was squeezing in my friends and family too...

# Prologue

How New York and Fashion School Happened to An Unsuspecting Dreamer

I wasn't too keen on being in New York last Christmas. I had no more vacation leaves, a lot of work needed to be done, and I dreaded the cold. But the low airfare, the chance to be reunited with family, and a talk with a very convincing friend made me finish all a month's work in a week - in time to catch the flight.

I didn't keep a journal. Of all the times I've travelled, it was on this trip that I decided to lessen my sentimentality. After a week, I sat with regret. I wanted to reconstruct the past days as they happened, and write them all down in one sitting. I thought that because I didn't keep a journal, I wouldn't have anything tangible to remember it by. I was wrong.

Visiting the art schools I was interested in wasn't a priority on that trip. My mom and I were scheduled to fly back to Manila on January 4 - Friday. We visited the two best design schools in the world: Parsons Schools of Design and Fashion Institute of Technology on January 2. Requirements were simple, work load was flexible, and registration was ongoing. I loved the classes, the schools, and the city. My mom and I agreed that I take a few classes in both schools when Spring Term starts on February 4. Needless to say, we went back to Brooklyn that night with more than just brochures. We rode the subway home with my dreams in our hands.

That evening, I got the blessings of the whole family to pursue my passion. The following morning, a day before our flight back home, we looked for a place in Manhattan for me. We had wanted that I stay at my sister's former dorm where all the boarders were Filipinos. There wasn't space. I was disheartened. I was confused whether all this was really for me. Its Irish nun owner then gave us a list of 8 recommended Catholic residences. All were full. Except the eighth.

The eighth dorm is run by friendly Spanish Catholic nuns. The place is neat and quiet - the most peaceful you'd find in Manhattan, my soon-to-be dormmate, Laura quipped. Located two blocks from Parsons, with two Catholic churches around the corner, and no smoking allowed, I was sold. Except I have to review my Spanish lessons from college. Two blocks from my new place and 18 hours before that plane ride, my brother and I were at Parsons to register. Not long after, I was enrolled. And I already had an ID - valid for Spring 2002. In one day I had a home and a school in New York. Everything happened overnight. That trip was life-changing. Even if I didn't have a journal, I will never forget it because it lit the fire of my new beginning.

It put a turn in my career, in my life. Although it took a considerable while for my family to settle whether I would resign from my current job or just take a leave of absence, we decided it best to let me fly towards this new direction without any strings. But I did have strings - a contract that I had to keep in return for the training I received in the company. Or so we thought.

My mom and I arrived in Manila on Saturday - January 5, 2002. By Monday, I was ready to inform my boss of my resignation, and of my willingness to pay the bond. The first person I see in the office is a co-management trainee. He welcomes me back, gives me a hug, and whispers in my ear. _'Our contract was_ _canceled recently._ ' The ultimate sign from God. That made me realize that although it was a risk to take, this whole career move had God's blessings. God gave me an opportunity I had no right to ignore.

In the past week, I have told this story a dozen times. ' _Ang lakas mo naman kay God_ ' (God really gives you what you want), my friends teased. I couldn't agree more. Of course He gave me these blessings through his angels - my family who support me, and will support me every step of the way in every way they possibly can.

Oftentimes, it is unfortunate occurrences in our lives that make us closer to God. As for me, it is serendipities like these that make me go down on my knees each morning in gratitude and humility.

Yes, I do have a career map. For the years 2002-2003, I planned to study in the Philippines' International School of Fashion Design, style for good magazines, and prepare for New York in 2004. But God pressed the fast forward button. I didn't even need to lift a finger. Although I had planned to see as many movies with good costume designs as I can, and build my portfolio and dream scrapbook before I fly to New York, I realize that 'Okay, maybe by June 2002. I would have been ready and armored with an organized portfolio - but Mr. Chance of a Lifetime couldn't wait for me, and so I went on ahead.' Then I'll be ready - just ready for nothing. (True enough, I find out that the classes I will take this February will not be offered in June and September.)

Although it might have appeared sudden, this development was actually two years in the making. I first learned I wanted to learn fashion design when I read a newspaper feature on the costume designer of a movie (I still have that clipping). Plans became more accurate when I followed advice from the book ' _Creating A Life Worth Living'_ \- a practical, self-help career guide for people who aspire to live the creative life. By October 2001, five months after buying the book, I had my goals and plans laid out.

All in all, I guess the past two years were for discerning, planning, and preparing. Maybe the next two will be about learning, executing, and achieving. It's still surreal to me that I'm actually going to New York to make it happen in 2002. At first I didn't want any _despedidas_ (farewell parties). I didn't want to make a big deal out of my leaving. I didn't even want to text people in my phonebook that I'll be gone. I didn't think the change would have much impact on people besides myself. But I did receive sweet e-mail messages of good luck, and text messages of 'urgent' pleas to see me before I go. Right now I am arranging my clearance and putting finishing touches on my projects in the office, but I can't do it overtime this time because I also have personal and social preparations to make. Lunches and dinners of the past week were spent saying goodbye to friends. Slots for the next two, and my last weekend in Manila are filling up quickly as well. I guess I was all too excited at the start that I didn't recognize the fact that there are people who are going to miss me.

Then just recently, as I was in the middle of a chaotic bedroom with clothes, portfolios, and books all over, I realized I was packing my whole life. Who knows what I'll need, or what will come in handy, or when I'll be back? Not only was I trying to fit 6 months worth of wardrobe into my suitcase, I was squeezing in my friends and family too.

Beginning January 26, 2002, New York time, everything will be new for the 22-yr-old me. The course, the school, the people, the city, and the culture. It will change me definitely - for the better hopefully. Come what may, it will be different. I welcome the change with an open mind, an open heart, and open arms.

As I end, I remember the message I wrote on my gifts to my friends last Christmas before I left for that monumental trip. I wrote, _"Happy Christmas and_ _May 2002 be your year."_ Well, I had a joyful Christmas, and maybe 2002 will be my year too.
**Rollercoaster Ride #2:** **The Great Premiere**

I plus one got invited to the New York Premiere of _The Great Raid_ last August 10. My eyes were on Joseph Fiennes, Mark Consuelos and Paolo Montalban. My hands were with my friends. But my mind was on the actual red carpet. The celebrities were on it , the diplomats were behind it , and the veterans were beside it . I thought there should have been five red carpets at the Intrepid Museum that night. Much better, the whole space should have been red-carpet ted from wall to wall. The celebrities acted in the movie - that's their job. We project them on the screen, and as a result we look up to them and they appear larger than life. But I think event organizers, producers, diplomats, writers, engineers, doctors, soldiers, and the "ordinary" people should also get the red-carpet treatment - in premieres and always.

In New York, dreams come true on a daily basis. I used to be a dreamer, but New York made me a realist. I guess this is where I made the jump from dreaming the life to living the dream...

# New York and Hugh

IN NEW YORK, dreams come true on a daily basis. I used to be a dreamer, but New York made me a realist. I guess this is where I made the jump from dreaming the life to living the dream.

New York being the setting of films like "Serendipity" and "You've Got Mail," and the location of fantastic places like The Plaza and Central Park, you always have to be prepared for fortunate accidents to happen to you, because they do all the time.

Never ever dress down because you don't know who you're going to run into, what art gallery opening you're going to be suddenly invited to, or who's going to ask to meet up with you for drinks at a hip bar downtown.

The World on 15 Avenues

When people said my world became wider when I moved to New York, they had no idea how wrong they were. The world has since become much smaller.

In a city 200 streets long and 15 avenues wide, you're bound to bump into people you've known, people you know or people you know of.

If you're lucky, it's Ethan Hawke, or an old friend you didn't know lived in New York. On an exceptionally unlucky day, it's an ex, or an irritating roommate you thought you left at the college dorm for good.

This city being the crossroads of the world, it is possible to meet anyone and get introduced to everyone. No matter how many thousand Filipinos reside in New York City, you will meet them all. And they will all know you back, or at least know of you.

This just goes to show that people here are much more ready to introduce themselves, get introduced, and strike up conversations. "Socials" and "networking" are two very powerful words. And don't forget the lists! You have to be on the guest list, mailing list, listserv... every list!

Eight weeks' to eight minutes' notice

There's no other place than New York where your calendar gets full 60 days prior. "Let me look at my calendar" is always the first line you hear when you ask to meet someone, whether for official business or an intimate date. There's no place like it to make last-minute arrangements, or what my _kuya_ (older brother) likes to call the "lightning gimmicks" that, among other things, keep me in New York.

"Lightning gimmicks" rely a lot on the 24-hour subway and taxis, the restaurants that never close and the apartments that you and your friends each own.

You can also take a trip to Boston tomorrow, have a spectacular date for lunch, or see a movie premiere or Broadway show tonight, minutes after you answer your phone, open your email or send that invite.

About a boy

When I helped out in Robert De Niro's First Annual Tribeca Film Festival in May 2002, my favorite Hugh Grant film was the opening premiere. The festival was De Niro's idea of bringing people back to the neighborhood of the World Trade Center after the September 11, 2001 attacks.

He brought filmmakers, films and audiences together to watch screenings, spend nights, and have meals at the many theaters, hotels and restaurants in Tribeca – the neighborhood that JFK Jr. and Scott Wolf shared.

During the opening ceremonies, De Niro had guests speak about the significance of a week-long festival that supported the businesses and families affected by the attacks: South Africa President Nelson Mandela, US President Bill Clinton, NY Governor George Pataki, NY Mayor Mike Bloomberg, Kevin Spacey, Whoopi Goldberg and Hugh Grant.

Hugh, in his welcome speech, mentioned that he had received criticisms of how flippant an actor he was, based on the characters he had played. He hadn't agreed (with such criticisms) as much as he did at that moment in the midst of the other esteemed speakers.

That premiere was also my first red carpet experience in New York. It now seems like a long time ago, but these really are the kinds of things that happen in New York.

Manhattan moments

My surreal encounters and experiences, such as those with Hugh Grant, confirm that New York is the city of wakeful dreaming, fortunate accidents, random meetings and sudden engagements.

In two years, I have met more famous people than I can count, and heard Hugh Grant speak on four different occasions. Most cases were unintentional.

Many times I just got lucky. As for the rest, the credit goes to what most New Yorkers know as "New York moments."

**Rollercoaster Ride #3:** **Rubbing against fire**

What is it about NY City firemen that makes them so freakin' hot? Whenever I hear and see a fire truck drive by, there's always a totally hot guy looking out the window (and whom I'd say a prayer for). There must be something about the hotness of the fire that rubs off on them. As they say, spend much time with your friends, pets and cars, and you will look like them in no time.

Yet I know some writers, bankers, producers, IT guys, and engineers who are naturally warm - and sweet. And the closest to fire they've ever been are the burning candles on my birthday cake.

It's not having anything to own, and seeing all that you are as priceless. It's seeing the most perfect face and recognizing the owner as a good friend. It's passing through life but once, and being able to say, once is enough...

# In A Moment

IT COULD HAPPEN. To you.

In "surreality," I see movement. It's the process of the surreal turning into reality. The fantasy becoming true-to-life. The prince charming embodied in a charming boy. The dream coming true. The movement could flow from right to left too. It's seeing the fantasy in reality. It's being amazed by the most mundane things. It's discovering an eyeful café on the eighth floor of Saks Fifth Avenue, but more importantly, a mentor in the one who showed it to you. It's watching someone put on gel, and seeing an angel. It's catching someone sleeping, and waking up.

In New York, people are very generous with the adjectives "wonderful," "amazing" and "phenomenal." Yet, when you meet the people or see the things they describe, you find that they have not exaggerated. So I say, wherever we are, we must continue to be amazed by people, by things, by occurrences.

There is a fine line between surreal and reality, especially in New York City. Because, before you know it... boom! You see Tom Cruise walking in Times Square. Boom! The love of your life walks into your birthday party. Boom! You get the offer to be a columnist. Boom, the line's so fine, they could be put together in one word. At the same time however, it's a big leap. Leap of faith.

What was a fantasy yesterday, or ten years ago, can be reality today. Because sometimes you do little things everyday to make your dream come true. Other times, it's other people who make the shift for you. But most of the time, it's you. You make it happen. You can only depend on yourself to make something happen because only you know how important it is.

"Surreality" is a matter of perspective and attitude, and actuality. It's dancing with Cindy Crawford. It's revealing your innermost feelings and thoughts and hearing another's. It's meeting the parents of the boy you like. It's spotting former Philippine President

Fidel Ramos at the corner of your office on your way out to lunch. It's like an unexpected kiss. Two moments separated by a nanosecond. But the whole world changed. It's being a walking philosopher, walking with a friend, and walking away with a new outlook.

It's not having anything to own, and seeing all that you are as priceless. It's seeing the most perfect face and recognizing the owner as a good friend. It's passing through life but once, and being able to say, once is enough. It's surreal but real. It's real but dreamy.

I had thought that if I were to ever have my own column, it would be called "New York Moments." Because there are just so many moments that could happen only in New York. Like in my past article for the _Philippine Daily Inquirer_ , I said, "In New York, you always have to be prepared for fortunate accidents to happen to you, because they do all the time. You never know who you're going to run into, what art gallery opening you're going to be suddenly invited to, or who's going to ask to meet up with you for drinks at a hip bar downtown." A moment that wasn't here yesterday can be here today, but will be gone tomorrow. Granted, there are moments you wish could last forever. It can certainly change you. But no matter how potentially life-changing and amazing, there is no movement in a moment.

I do believe "surreality" happens most frequently in New York. As in Jude Law's new film, "Alfie," his motto is "Location, location, location." Make some news on Fifth Avenue and the world will know about it in seven seconds. Bag a styling job at the Cosmopolitan office one block over and your farthest relatives in Puerto Rico can buy a magazine with your name on it. Sweet talk the gentleman at the next table on your lunch break and your movie could be on HBO next month. Of course, it doesn't always happen this easy. But it is easier than in other places.

However, I remember when it first happened to me. I was still in Manila then, didn't even have any dream of going to New York. It was July 7, 2001, and a turning point in my whole outlook about seizing opportunities and realizing dreams. Exactly three years later, I am still amazed. Surreal was the only word that could describe what had happened when I wrote about it. I first heard of the term from William Thacker, uttered to Anna Scott in a moment in "Notting Hill." Now, only "surreality" could be a better fit, because what was surreal actually became real.

So surreal things can happen outside of New York. It first happened to me in Manila. I had a few moments in France, Belgium, Germany and Holland two years ago. Such moments could also happen in the UK when I visit the queen in November.

This column might at times tilt toward the other side too. Like having 50 cents in your pocket and having to walk 50 blocks because of it. And then counting that there are more Duane Reade pharmacies, than Starbucks, than McDonalds in Manhattan, compared to any other store. It's a friend walking with you then, and another lending you his jacket in the cold. It's breaking a cell phone and finding a camera.

As I type this, I look up and see the Manhattan skyline out the window. There's also a literal skyline of orange as the sun sets at a relatively early time of 6:23 p.m., and the Empire State Building begins to light up.

Once it was lit in the colors of the Philippine flag, to signify the contributions of the Filipino community in New York City, on June 23 and 24, 2004, for the first time in history and will occur annually hereafter.

Fortunately, we have photos to prove it actually happened and something for Filipinos to consider when scheduling a visit to New York. This view, and that memory... are surreal.

"Surrealities" don't have to be huge achievements. The trick is seeing the wonder in simple observations and occurrences. Sometimes we don't even have to think long and hard. We all have our surreal stories turned into reality.

Rollercoaster Ride #4: Win, Lose or Draw

How are you supposed to get excited about rings and engagements when you know that divorces and annulments could just be 20 months, 10 grand and 1 gigantic heartbreak away? When prenups, separations, affairs and second marriages cross your mind, how

can you still believe?

I heard it said that _"It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." I read it elsewhere that "It's better to have loved and lost than to live with the psycho for the rest of your life."_ I say, _"It's better to have loved - and won."_

I've been told that many come to be old maids or masters by choice. But that can't be the case for everyone. I wonder if some people pass this life without ever having been in love. I wonder too why not one movie or play was ever written without a love interest or angle. They say that movies ought to be about the peak of the characters' lives. Well, lots of men and women have gone over the hill without bumping into that one.

From "Doogie Howser" to "Sex and the City," there is always an entry, a lesson, an insight after each episode in their lives, and our lives. My favorites are the ones I get just from conversations with friends...

# Daily Philosophy

IN EARLY SEPTEMBER 2003, a girl friend and I were walking through Union Square when we saw writings on a scaffold.

It dawned on me at that moment that in a city where most people are alone, people are bound to their own thoughts and to their own ways of surviving mentally, socially, spiritually, physically and emotionally. And so, just like Dela Vega, the elusive modern philosopher in New York who paints his mantras on sidewalk pavements and walls in the few moments that the city that never sleeps doses off from a long night of partying or working (which may not be mutually exclusive), we all come up with "Insert-name-here" isms that take us through the days, and somehow also help eventually change the "It's Not What You Know, It's Who You Know" rule in making business connections.

From "Doogie Howser" to "Sex and the City," there is always an entry, a lesson, an insight after each episode in their lives, and our lives. My favorites are the ones I get just from conversations with friends, as well as from friends who are not as socially articulate, but are still quite pensive and prove insightful in their blogs.

Jamie's "He's not a wound, he's a mosquito bite...and sometimes it itches," was a moment of complete articulation about a non-heartbreak, during an earnest conversation in Union Square Park.

Sometimes, personal mantras are so new, that when shared, become revolutions and change how people think and live their lives. One became a book published late last year into a New York bestseller.

The thought? _He's Just Not That Into You_. Its main idea? "The next time you feel the need to start "figuring him out," consider the glorious thought that maybe he's just not that into you. And then set yourself loose to go find the one who is." Very liberating.

That just saved us many hours and days of analyzing, and freed our minds for more productive thinking. Things and thoughts like this will help us approach our "moment of clarity," and "the lights at either end of the tunnel" that our friends have grappled and travelled.

I was once concerned about my non-concern for reaching the pinnacle (I wondered, just how important is it to be published in the New York Times – especially now that it's doable? Will the world really change when I finally publish a book? Of course not! It may not even notice!) There is a certain danger in contentment and happiness, you see. Contentment may lead, or equate to, boredom.

Though we should feel happiness, there must al ways be an aspiration, a struggle, a wanting. Otherwise, we will just exist and sleep in. So to appease my wondering mind, when in early January I finally reached a certain goal I set for myself, the girl I was with during that euphoric night said, "Okay Carisse, this is not the pinnacle, it's a spire."

This reminded me of a conversation I had with a producer and designer at J Walter Thompson at their co-worker's party in New York. We had just finished a shoot for a New York Cares print ad that past weekend. One of them said it was her fifteen minutes of fame.

I did not agree. "I think," I said, "that was only our one minute of fame...we have fourteen more. Or maybe that's only our two seconds of fame. – we have 898 more (if we have not used up 20 in our childhood)."

It would be sad if our fifteen minutes did in fact last for only fifteen minutes. I believe that we can actually chop it up and think in seconds or even milliseconds. That plus other witty comebacks worthy of ad headlines almost got me a copywriter's position at J Walter that night.

They didn't know my friends and their clever mantras I lived by.

For example, One friend Peter's "I'm boring. It's expensive to be exciting." was an insight caught in a non-thought-conducive bar setting in New York. ("Okay, Carisse, you may take that quote.")

Another book that had a major mantra, and affected the lives of its readers is " _The Alchemist_." One of its biggest take-aways is "When you really want something, the universe conspires to help you achieve it."

It does help in keeping us hopeful to achieve our goals, even the far-fetched ones if we have them. But it makes me think...when we don't get a job or a boy, does that mean we didn't really want them that much in the first place?

In a recent conversation, I involuntarily uttered the words "You broke your own heart," to the awakening of the two girl friends I was speaking with, and my own. Sometimes women initiate a break-up to lessen the (potential) hurt, or to beat the guy to it, when it's a real possibility that it's not going to happen.

Their hearts break anyway. And so here, the statement, "I broke my heart," is accurate.

In my opinion, getting your heart broken (by someone other than yourself) has to be somewhat a better deal because when you break your own heart, you won't have somebody to account for it except yourself...Will you be able to live with yourself then?

(You might go crazy in regret!) If he breaks your heart, at least you're just being true to yours and not playing games.

Or if the quote on a mod magnet I saw in London would help better, heed this, "It's better to have loved and lost than to live with the psycho for the rest of your life."

And so again, to borrow Mike's thought, "Don't be afraid of being hurt, be afraid of never being hurt."

There is no growth if there's no pain. Then to borrow from Carrie, "Do we search for "lessons" to lessen the pain?" Yes. I guess that's how we keep sane.

And to vow never to make the same mistake again. As well as to learn from other people's mistakes.

We can't and shouldn't make them all. Otherwise, we'll spend the rest of our lives sulking and recuperating.

One of my favorite sayings is "The only normal people we know are the people we don't know very well." Often, time or even a visit to the person's home will reveal characteristics that are otherwise concealed. Whether it's an obsession, a strange interest,

a perfectionist behavior or an experimental past. Freakiness however, should not only be construed negatively. Discovering another person well enough may too uncover a difference that could merely be an unannounced ability, or a weird but effective habit.

A "Sex and the City" episode "Freak Show" centered on the fact. My friend Jan said she likes the freaky side of people. It's nothing to be scared of. It's a fact that has to be accepted. People were shaped in their own environs.

And so, if we are all freaks, if we all have our obsessive and compulsive must-dos, we must need shrinks. The need for it in the Philippines may not be so obvious since we're always surrounded by people who love us unconditionally and have our best interests at heart.

But here in the States, as long as we have our own shrinks – and it shouldn't always be ourselves (that's what happens to the crazies in the subway) – we'll be fine. As long as we have friends in our daily lives who we keep sane, and keep us sane, we'll be fine. And if there are mantras that lessen the growing pains and keep us sane and happy, then let's keep and live by them.

Rollercoaster Ride #5: What are you doing?

One of the reasons why I love writing is that there isn't a lot of necessary investments. I don't have to buy markers, fabric or thread - one of the reasons I didn't like fashion or advertising. Unlike filmmaking, I don't have to collaborate with a whole crew and adjust to their schedules, commitments and mood swings. I can just stay home peacefully and not spend a penny. My only investments are my thoughts and experiences, and I don't have to consider receiving $20,000 and think of investing that in production costs.

" _Never Eat Alone_ " defined goals as dreams with a deadline. My personal definition for goals would be dreams in action. In NY, people are always doing something besides their 9-5 job. Something larger than themselves... Something that feeds their passion... Something that will bring them closer to their dreams... Besides the happy hours, social dinners and gym sessions, I'm working on my book on nights and weekends, Rob is producing independent films, Rina and Ed are working on their salsa performances, Marc is studying for the GMAT, and a whole bunch of young Filipino professionals are working on CORE. The day and the work don't end at 5pm. The real fun of work is only beginning. Luckily, we don't have to account for the 4-hour hi-way traffic when we count our productive hours in our day.

You get a long pause from anyone you ask: "So, what do you do?" And then prepare to hear a whole lot.

How has it become easier to tell our friends 'I have a business meeting,' than to tell our co-workers, 'I have a Broadway date at eight?'

# Our 5-to-9 lives

IT'S ALWAYS EITHER your personal life gets in the way of your work, or your work gets in the way of your personal life.

I used to be the first one to arrive at and the last one to leave work. I didn't mind staying late to finish things up, or doing work at home. But lately it's been a whirlwind. So many things are happening all at the same time, and they're all good. So many after-work drinks and lunches with friends or professional networks have been set that I sometimes need to step out at 12nn or 5pm on the dot. While that used to make me feel guilty, the clock is a guide that tells you where and on what you should be spending your thoughts and time on.

It is so easy for us to feel guilty about leaving our desks for home or for friends at exactly 5:01. But the many times that we spent it well beyond 5, or when even our children witness how we still work at home, does the office or our bosses feel guilty? How has it become easier to tell our friends 'I have a business meeting,' than to tell our co-workers 'I have a Broadway date at eight?' Which pang of guilt the morning after tinges harder?

Whether the reason for being late or not being there at all is "I have a meeting," or "I have a baptism," or "I have a date," some commitments override others. Especially when work events require your weekend presence. But sometimes the little boy needs your weekend presence too.

One of the things I never like hearing is "I'm too busy" or 'I'm too tired." Contrary to M. Scott Peck's mantra, I don't believe that "Love is an effort." Because if you love something or someone, you can never be too busy or too tired - it just means that you have other priorities, and you choose to put your time and energy on those. I remember the surprise question my Theology teacher asked me in my junior year in high school. I was looking out the window at that moment when he asked "What is love?" I casually blurted out, "Love is when you care about the other more than you care about yourself." My classmate Alvin's head turned and his lips curled up.

Despite modern mantras to love yourself first or to leave some love for yourself, at its core, I think love is all about selflessness. No matter what you're doing, if your job or the person you love asks of you, even if you have to spend cash or time on it, you would make it a priority. Thy will be done.

We just have to be aware enough to realize when those shifts between our inclinations for work and for play (i.e. all the other aspects in our lives that we re ally want to do) happen, and why. Then let's get a grip and the courage to do something about it.

I say let's all just work from 9 to 5, and play from 5 to 9.

Nobody likes a slacker at work, but have we ever wondered whether we are slackers in our personal life? Do we all strain to climb the corporate ladder to become Employee of the Year, or are those people we've stepped on really donning brighter stars for Parent of the Year? Many single Americans are convinced they haven't met anyone because they're too busy working. They don't really have to move to another job or country to find the one. If we allot the same amount of attention we devote to business meetings to social meetings, we'll all learn a thing or two about things they never teach us in the office.

Just as we take our 9 to 5 job seriously, we have a 5 to 9 duty to our family, our friends and ourselves. And in the grand scheme of life, that's not any less important.
Rollercoaster Ride #6: Penny loafer

Sometimes, our thoughts don't merely cost a penny. I finally, finally get paid for my writing.

Other times, our thoughts are free-of-charge. I asked one of my lawyer friends if he could help another friend in a minor legal situation. The attorney emailed me back and said he'll talk to him, but he'll have to charge $150. Friend #2 showed him the money.

But as he always tells me, if it were me who had a problem, his advice wouldn't only be free, it would come with a nice dinner and a glass of sangria.

Where does the business transaction end and the friendship begin? How do you decide for whom you'd do things for free and freely, and for whom your expertise would pay?

Looking back, many hours of talk have been spent between him and I, and the topics have spanned the ups and downs of our many years, fears and tears here in New York. And I would have found myself penniless, if his thoughts cost more than a penny each.

# In-Kind Contributions

IN MY LINE of work, I often have to ask for money, and give money. And all for other people. Whether it's a death in the family, more books, or a hurricane, assistance, particularly financial assistance, is a non-negotiable requirement. And we have thought of many ways to raise that money. Whether through solicitation letters, through passing the hat (more like, the envelope) or the all-too-washed up " _Fundraising Event_ " such as plays, fashion shows, or dinners, there are countless, yet predictable ways. There are certainly donors who never tire of supporting different causes, or constantly sponsoring a single one, and they will have my perpetual admiration. They just tirelessly write out checks. Some give annually, others whenever asked.

With such frequency or consistency of the needs however, it has not been new for me to hear the term " _Donor Fatigue._ " To the point that these days, instead of insisting for proper credit and accountability, most people request for anonymity. Although they like to give what they can, they don't wish to be run over by all the other institutions who keep watch of the benefit programs, ads and banners.

Well, haven't they heard of ' _Solicitor Fatigue_?'Ask the beggars on the subway. It gets pretty tiring too. And some people, like the homeless, have to do this for a living. The difference is the beggars beg for themselves; nonprofit workers beg for other people.

But has anyone ever thought that it gets tiring, possibly only because, it is our money, and we "worked hard to earn it"? And that maybe, if we teach a skill we already have anyway, we wouldn't have to shell out any change from our pockets? Even Jesus preached this. "Give a person fish, you feed him for a day. Teach him how to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime." If the dollar you gave to the beggar was used for fish, then you only helped him for one day. Instead of donating money, what about teaching, connecting, and raving? These are now more sought after, and respected, because they prove to have more important, stronger and longer-lasting effects. Wealth-sharing isn't the only option.

We've heard about knowledge sharing. How about network sharing? Rave sharing? Perk sharing? These won't hurt as much as parting with our hard-earned cash. And we don't lose a thing! We still have the skill, still are friends with the people we introduced to each other, and our job's perk–whether it's a free pass, a discount, free lunch or an invite to an upscale event – will not go unused and be wasted. Besides, everyone could use more friends, more perks and more compliments.

Does money really make the world go round? Or are there favors and acts that make it rounder? If we become aware that "in-kind donations" go beyond canned goods and used clothes, these acts could, in today's society, actually have a higher value than money. And they don't in any way cause a dent in our bank accounts, our lunch, or our daily budget.

Let me count the ways:

Give:

A compliment

A smile

Attention

An invitation

Accommodation

A connection

Your work of art

A prayer

Effort

Time

A kiss

A hug

A job

An opportunity

Advice

Helpful information

Talent / expertise

An opportunity

A greeting

Muscle (for moving!)

A thought

A wish

A referral

Recognition

A free lunch or lunch companion

A good word (word of mouth)

A discount

A date

A friend (an introduction, a helping hand, a shoulder to lean on or an ear that listens)

A home to stay at (such as the Texas residents for the victims of Katrina)

Having lived in New York for four years, I've been a witness to an abundance of other people's money; those that can afford the works of Picasso and Matisse to embellish their living rooms. And whose single piece of furniture could equate to my yearly salary. Nevertheless, what has amazed me more was the abundance of collaboration, talent and time, that people are willing to share with each other – at no cost, especially in the arts. Since moving here in 2002, I have found a pool of talented, generous and motivated fellow Filipino young professionals who give back to our motherland, the Philippines. For me and for many others, it is a pool of willing and able friends who help each other make their individual and collected dreams come true – with all their hearts, minds and hands. I have never been in such a "can-do" community or in the company of this level of positive energy. While I'm so used, in my line of work, to helping other people's lives get better, the wheel has turned, and I am now receiving so much free and unsolicited support for a project they're making possible for me. Sure, someone can fund my education or projects, but somehow, receiving good advice, talent, recognition and connections cannot be liquidated. These are as solid as friendships, as a rock, or a finished project!

I hope we all realize that it is so much easier to give in-kind donations. We will never run out of ways and sources. And the gestures go the farthest distance. The only act that will make for a better high than these is to forgive.
Rollercoaster Ride #7 Easy lover

In New York, it's easier to find a boyfriend... if you are a boy.

But then I got to thinking, we live like our happily ever after will only just begin. After we get out, get married or get to the end. And then I realize, I've been living happily ever since.

# Happily Ever Since

"I LOVE YOU. And not in a friendly way, although I think we're great friends. And not in a misplaced affection, puppy-dog way, although I'm sure that's what you'll call it. And it's not because you're unattainable. I love you. Very simple, very truly. You are the epitome of every attribute and quality I've ever looked for in another person...There isn't another soul on this planet who's ever made me the person I am when I'm with you."*

My jaw just dropped when I heard this on New Year's Eve, watching the DVD of "Chasing Amy." Sure beats " _You had me at hello_." and " _You make me_ _want to be a better man._ " Though not as concise, it encapsulates love in purest form. (I would recommend watching the film to hear the whole speech or profession of emotion.)

I guess I'm just being pensive about the elusiveness and wonder of love these days. Perhaps this is a belated Valentine's Day piece. If we are allowed to celebrate our belated birthdays, could we not celebrate Valentine's Day weeks or even years after? I remember counting the years that my baptismal godfather, whom I've never met, missed my birthday. I would calculate how much he'd owe me when I'd finally meet him.

On my 17th year of existence, I did at last. He gave me my first 50-dollar bill. I was ecstatic. Now, I count all the Valentine's Days I've missed, and wonder when my day of reckoning will be.

Contributing to this mood this morning was my online search for tickets to L.A. and Manila, to attend my best friends' weddings in April and December. I cannot miss those.

Then, while watching Charlotte's second wedding to Harry on DVD, the postman rang my bell bearing my bridesmaid dress. I tried it on before changing into my Saturday afternoon outfit. It fit perfectly. Then I met with my gals Anna and Vanessa to see "The Wedding Date."

That Saturday, February 19, became my "wedding day."

On the rarest occasion that my dad and I talked about weddings, he said, "Getting married is like winning the lottery." I didn't really get the simile at first. But now that I think about it, I figure, if getting married is like the lottery, I never make bets. Of the 8,000 days I've lived, I've spent only one taking a side step to buy a lottery ticket at a deli. And that was with my mom's cajoling. Lately, however, I've been betting more frequently because everyone in the office does it together. (I don't want to be the only person left working.) But, do I really need my co-workers to convince me to gamble my precious dollar for a chance of a lifetime? Then I think further and ask, am I the one making the bet to win the jackpot, or are there people taking chances on me?

Is some guy I have the hots for the coveted prize, or am I? And if I win, will I ever be assured that I will not share my fortune with anyone? I hope so.

While in the Philippines last month, I bumped into two girls from my high school. The first question one asked was "Carissa?" The moment I connected the face to the high school memory, to the name, she asked me the second question. "Are you married?" I answered, "No, are you?" She shrieked "Yes" and threw her shining left hand at me. I'm not surprised. It seems like while I was away in New York, pursuing my career and self, everyone else in Manila was getting married.

When I bumped into the other newlywed, thinking it was safe to assume, I asked if it was with the high school boyfriend she's been with for seven years. "Oh no, we broke up in 2001." Oh, so in the three years from then, she found her soul mate. Good for her.

Just as I was beginning to think everyone my age is getting hitched, I fly back to New York and am welcomed by a huge crowd of thirty something beautiful single friends. In fact, one of my best and prettiest friends here just asked me if I thought she would ever get married. "Of course!" She asked how I could be so sure. I told her I could not visualize her not being beside a man she adored. It would be such a waste if she doesn't become an Isabel Preysler or an Eva Peron. Or if her husband doesn't become a Guy Ritchie or a Ralph Recto, which with her guts and determination, is more likely. I know some people who still ask how they will know if they found the one. I don't think it's about knowing one is the one, out of a trillion, out there for us. We can't hold a grain in our palm, and still look at the sand in the beach.

It's about worrying that somebody out there will pick our grain and hold it so precious they will put it in a vault. Christie and I once asked "Are they not scared of losing us?" If the answer is "no," it's our cue to disappear.

Then, the relationship descends to just having been "practice." As a little girl, I asked my dad when he would start becoming a real lawyer after being a "practicing lawyer."

We should also ask ourselves, when it comes to relationships, when would we stop practicing and start immersing ourselves in the real thing? What's taking us so long?

I asked my friend Jamie if she feels that she finally stepped out of "the meantime" to start having "the time of her life."

In the movie _Something's Gotta Give_ , Diane Keaton's daughter confessed to her, "I've never had the time of my life." To that, Diane asked, "What are you waiting for?"

Someone once told me that I was looking for my happy ending. I just didn't have the words then. But now I know I wasn't looking for a happy ending. I was just hoping for a happy beginning.

Before leaving for "The Wedding Date," I wrote Myra a card and wished her and her hubby-to-be a happily ever after. But then I got to thinking, we live like our happily ever after will only just begin. After we get out, get married or get to the end. And then I realize, I've been living happily ever since.

I'm happy to have been born despite difficulty, into a loving family. I'm happy to have my childhood anecdotes that provide comic entertainment to this day, and to go to New York to find and be myself.

I'm 25 years old, and my happily ever after has long begun.

*Quoted from the movie Chasing Amy, written and directed by Kevin Smith. (View Askew Productions, 1997)
Rollercoaster Ride # 8: Confessions of a Non-Shopaholic

Contrary to what my Friday night habits were back in Glorietta, or my reputation amongst my friends, I no longer consider myself a shopgirl.

I can walk in and out of a clothing store within ten seconds without regret or added baggage. The items I own which draw praise from friends and strangers are often gifts or freebies from friends I've made, or finds that rarely cost me a fortune.

I figured, I have so many clothes, and yet there's just one me to dress up! I had quite a number of dress-up barbies when I was little. But now that I'm older, there's only one barbie to dress up. And as long as the men I'm dating haven't seen me repeat my clothes, I'm more than okay. And so far, I haven't gone out with a guy long enough for him to see ALL the outfits I could pull together.

Not shopping a lot gives you insight in the function of things – why they were invented and why most homes have them. My latest purchase was a sleek white night lamp from Urban Outfitters mainly because I wanted to read in bed without having to get up to turn the lights off. Desks, drawers and microwaves proved their utility to me too. Toasters and rice cookers haven't yet.

The last time I remember really shopping – by this, I mean multiple purchases at one time was in LA in April and Frankfurt in June. I had bags and bags of merchandise - from a bookstore.

Before I go:

Not counting the one above, I haven't said a confession in a little while. A Catholic girl says a confession when she thinks that she's done wrong. (And like most Filipinos' habits, we say "sorry" more than we should.) But what about the people who don't think they've done anything wrong in the past months or years? I know I've been a good person my whole life - and much more us siblings to our parents, and they to us. And what if like the most sinless of ice creams, we've washed ourselves of guilt? Have we all learned to justify everything we think, say and do? Or do our confessions now consist, not of telling lies, stealing, and having affairs, but of the amount of white bread we've swallowed and calories we've consumed?

No matter how true the theory of six degrees of separation may be, we cannot meet and speak with all these people. So thank God they wrote. And thank God for publishers. And thank God for books and bookstores and the people who sell them second-hand on the streets for a dollar each.

# Read, Live, Write

WHEN I'M IN the huge New York Public Library, just three blocks from my office, or a bookstore (especially the used-book types), I think to myself, "So many books and so little time!" When I see all my drafts of articles, written-out journals or my ideas on my Palm Pilot, but most especially every time I experience, see or hear something that I want to share (and believe me that happens in New York every single minute), I wish I could just sit and write for two weeks straight, finish the writing and share the things that other people might also find interesting.

I even thought of applying to be a columnist for a weekly newspaper so that writing would become a duty and not an option. And then I realized it was not only a duty for me, but for everyone who has experienced, laughed, wept, thought, lived and learned. They ought to share.

Just when I'm convinced I could read all day, I reach my destination and I have to pick up my bags. After several hours of writing, my hands, my back and even my butt ache. And then the parties, and the job, and the family and the body and God.

So I say, one must have time to read. To learn from other people we've never met, who've lived in another time, for we can never go back in time and experience what they had. As well as from the people who've chosen the fields that we have not, and in fact have earned expertise in them, like geologists, artists or politicians. For even the most curious citizen of the world has to choose a profession and have one or a few passions and cannot be all those amazing people in one. And no matter how true the theory of six degrees of separation may be, we cannot meet and speak with all these people. So thank

God they wrote. And thank God for publishers. And thank God for books and bookstores and the people who sell them second-hand in the streets for a dollar each.

I think the reason why there are so many used-book stores is that a book can be reread by the same person or passed on from one to the other in the same generation or the next – endlessly. A book is not like a piece of clothing that wears out. Books never really expire. The first editions and the current revision of any book may be equally valuable. In the simplest or most complex books, there is always a unique insight or deduction.

After learning, we have to have time to live. Apply the proper etiquette at a dinner party, according to Emily Post. Review " _Principles of Internal Medicine_ " before giving a diagnosis. Swipe a copy of that "Tourist Guide" once we arrive at the Amsterdam airport. By doing our job, being with our family, feeling our emotions, meeting more people, caring for our health, getting enough sleep and going out on dates, we live our lives. The advice that we receive, the mistakes that we remember and the books that we have read will help us live it well.

And finally, we have to have time to write, because we also have something to share - an expertise, an experience, a thought. As my father says, a person's own writing, no matter how 'imperfect,' is the most authentic artifact. If they tell their own story, it will be closest to the truth, and not a second-hand observation or inaccurate conclusion. So everyone must, and can write. Not everyone's an able director or talented singer who can star in a movie or compose a song that will be sung, heard and seen long after their time, but everyone who can hold a pen and tell a story can write. And hopefully people of our generation and the next, of this continent or the one beside it, may gain something from it.

Being published or having an impact should not be a worry. Just write it somewhere, anywhere (find the time, take a second) and it will be read.
Rollercoaster Ride #9: Fresh delivery

Welcome to 7-11, New York: the biggest convenience store in the world.

Someone once said that _"The four corners of the_ _world can be found on 14th Street."_ I've also heard that "When living in New York, _everything you'll ever_ _need in your life is within six blocks from your apartment: the laundromat, the nails salon, the grocery,_ _and Blockbuster_."

That's so last decade.

In the New York City of the 21st Century, changing out of your PJ's and putting your coat on for the deli downstairs is too much to ask. All you need is wireless internet and a wireless phone and your needs are sent to your doorstep in a blink of an eye and a click of a finger.

Grocery: Fresh Direct

Blockbuster: Netflix

Nails Salon: Home service salon and spa

Pharmacy: Drugstore.com

Laundromat: Pick-up and delivery wash and fold (yahoo!)

For everything else, there's Ebay or Amazon.

I won't be surprised when Match.com offers a free service to deliver new friends and lovers to your home. If they don't come with a money-back-guarantee or a self-addressed stamped envelope, the old slam-the-door-on their face maneuver might still work.

Would people rather save money and spend time, or save time and spend money?

# Time is Gold, Money is Paper

YESTERDAY, in the interest of saving some cash, I cooked.

I ended up spending two hours preparing and cleaning up after a ten-minute meal, and having this thought for dessert: Would people rather save money and spend time, or save time and spend money?

It depends I guess on which they put more value: money or time. I definitely value time more. Like the line that crosses streets and turns corners at the new Museum of Modern Art on Fridays when it's pay-as-you-wish, I don't get how people would rather spend 220 minutes to save 20 dollars.

Time is irrevocable. Money refillable. No matter how empty your pocket or your bank account is, it will always somehow be replenished, with crisp cash. The fifteenth always comes. You can even get an unexpected bonus. Or if you really need the cash, contributions are common. As a final resort, you can solicit donations from your fellow men from any place.

There are however, only exactly 24 hours in a day, 60 minutes in an hour, and 60 seconds in a minute, no more no less. We don't even know if this is our one last hour. Money however, could be unlimited that we don't know how to spend it anymore. That explains the existence of too many Jaguars and "cosmetic-surgeried" people.

You cannot solicit time either, except from God, nor can you beg for forever. As American culture attests, however, you can be rich like a king if you work like a dog. So next time, I'll just order in.

The simple act of cooking also got me thinking about how I spend my time, and money. I once considered taking a second job. I immediately realized I'd rather be poor and spend more time doing my own thing, than be rich and frustratingly hectic. We hear many Americans envy the Europeans for their 60-day vacation time/year. But we never hear the Europeans want the 10 vacation days and 14-hour work days of Americans.

Unlike many professionals, I don't have a lot of vacation days saved up to liquidate. Because I use them up to see my parents and brother every year. That for me, is priceless.

_"There's a fine line between love and wasting your time."_ That's Annie's reply to every person who asks how she is. (I didn't know at that time that she probably got that thought, or quote from the play, _Avenue Q_.) My reply to that is, I hate waiting for the bus, for my friends at a dinner or lunch. That's why I just always take the taxi to the train station, even if I have to pay a full seven dollars and tell myself I'm worth it. I love how taxis take you, quickly, to exactly where you want to go, in fashion and dignity. I always said that once I get a raise, I'll definitely ride taxis more often.

If I hate waiting in the daily grind, why am I waiting for the one? Is there not a taxi that will take me from point A (where I am now) to point B (where I want to be)? Isn't there a car service I can call to send me the car? I think I just call on God. Or at least a completely entertaining book I will be engrossed in 'til the next stage of my life? Are all that we do distractions to keep our thoughts away from where it usually digresses to?

(But as they say, and we must always remember, God is never late.)

I also pondered: if we are really supposed to live each day as if it's our last, will we always call the people we care for just to say "I love you" or "Sorry"? Should we take the courage today to call our "one that got away"?

Can we really swallow our pride to do that? And if we're still alive tomorrow, will we again make the calls? On the other hand, there are so many serious things happening in the world that no time should be wasted obsessing over a guy, especially one who obviously doesn't obsess over you.

If we keep in mind that today may be the last day of our lives, we will never fly from home because that is where most people would like to breathe their last breath. When people say _"_ No one says I wish I spent more time in the office in their deathbeds." Actually, nobody says "I wish I saved more money." If they did keep the cash, they can't really care, despite wills, how it's spent anymore. At the end of the day, or of our life, we never ask for more money – but for more time.

I read however, that someone actually said "Pay the gardener" at his deathbed. There were only two weeks in my life when I was so engrossed in doing errands –accomplishing tasks that do not in any way contribute to my future or the development of others. In those days, I spent lunch hours running around the block. I had enjoyed using my new Casio cassette recorder to playback my list of errands, and realized that though they may seem like mindless tasks, prioritizing errands is a sign of maturity that some things just have to be done.

However, I always believed in doing and seeing something new every day. I never wanted to be occupied in tiny tasks and tinier talks.

Another activity that takes way too many units of time is laundry. A bright and white Saturday afternoon could well be spent in a room of suds and bleach. And as Jessica Simpson would agree, the worst thing is folding. Washing clothes, especially if you're not rich enough to have a washer and dryer at home, is really a chore. That's why it's called that. This is actually something worse than an errand. If my Laundromat picked-up and delivered, I'd take the add-on folding in a second. Call any New Yorker on a weekend (after they wake up at 11), and bets are they're in some stage of washing their many clothes. Folding. A good friend agreed. That's what New Yorkers do when they're not out and about.

In closing, we choose where and how we spend both our money and our time. Financial advisers are there to help us spend money wisely. 'Til they create advisers to help us decide where and on whom we should best invest our time (the most precious thing), we are left to our own wise selves – and friends.
Rollercoaster Ride #10: Pyrotechnics

Here's a confession:

I don't really like painted art. I don't enjoy trips to traditional museums. I wonder how many art appreciation classes I would have to take to keep from being bored out of my brains while sitting in front of an artwork.

The collection in my office is superb, and we hold exhibits weekly, including regular visits from the artists. I was never impressed, hit or moved.

But last Friday, I hopped from one island to another (Manhattan, New Jersey, Queens, then back to Manhattan) within 60 minutes to make it to a dinner setting with a group of people who have just met each other at an art exhibit that night. In the presence of a humble, unassuming painter, a filmmaker, a curator, an actor and a writer, I just knew that fireworks were going to fly.

It was a creative and culinary explosion, that _happily_ cost one of us a thousand dollars. The eruption definitely sent waves all the way to Brooklyn, the Philippines and Cagayan de Oro City.

Now, I appreciate art, as my friend Toti always has. A piece of the artist - his moments, thoughts and strokes emanate from the walls of the buyer. And in this exhibition, that's a good thing.

In a city of great impressions, it is a gift to meet people who are truly impressive where it counts.

# 1,000 People To Meet Before You Die

AS I WAS on my way to board the plane to L.A., I saw " _1,000 Places to See Before You Die"_ at a newsstand. I never really believed in that book's premise. If I were to re-write it, I would replace " _places to see"_ with " _people to meet."_

Is the world really full of beautiful places that are " _not-to-be-missed_ ," or are there more beautiful people? Of all the tourist spots my eyes have ever laid on, I thought that they'd never see anything more beautiful than the view from the Millennium Bridge in London, in an early November evening. That was before I saw a huge smile on the face of a friend, from the other side of the glass door, as we got ready to leave.

Instead of saying, "I've been" to a renowned spot, doesn't "I've met" a great person sound better? Instead of seeing "Please come again," as you leave a place, doesn't hearing "Keep in touch" as you part ways with a friend feel much better?

The two most important documents I've made in my life are my career map (2001) and my last-three-days-to-live file (2004). The first shows where I want to be. The second, who I want to be with. While I was writing the latter file in an extraordinarily pensive night, I realized it won't matter where I am going to be in my last three days. I wouldn't have to be in London or Rome, as long as I will be with the people who've affected my life in one way, at one time or another. I don't know how that would ever be possible, now that those people are spread around the world. Like my best friend who wanted to lock the room where we, the most important people in her life were at, the night before her wedding in L.A., I know exactly what she meant. That document also made me see who my bridesmaids are going to be.

My _1,000 People to Meet Before You Die_ would consist of profiles of the people who have amazed me in my young life. The 50 Most Beautiful People, not according to _People_ magazine _,_ but according to me. And they're not going to be full of celebrities, but of beautiful people whose external appearances are incidental. I know I can't cover everyone, but I still feel fortunate in this whole interaction. Some amazing people I met through the regular course of my work: people that I admire for their austerity, and for their audacity, those I met through the not-so-regular course of my life. A lot of things could have NOT happened to make us cross paths and spend time together. But they happened.

Just like the modern belief that strangers are friends we just haven't met yet, maybe the real 7 wonders of the world are people. Each of us just has our own seven.

_"Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born._ " Anais Nin

When we meet these people, and their stories become ours, we will also have been to the places where their hearts and feet have been. We would have discovered a thousand worlds, through a thousand views. We would have lived vicariously through them, and lived a thousand lives all at once.

***

I remember seeing my dad give out his card to a complete stranger when I was younger. I had yet to be soaked in the wonders of chance and connections at that time, and found it strange enough to question it. He simply said that the chances of us walking in the same pace in the same spot at a parade were so small, it was destined. Now, with a thousand cards spread around the world, I understand. And that to give your business card to somebody is significant, actually. Because it means you allow yourself to be bothered in your future, by that person you met once in your past.

***

People I've met in person or through my writing have been thankful that I remember them out of the blue or regularly. Of the 1,440 minutes a day and the million things to do, it only takes a moment to consider the friends I've met and what they want in their lives. It only takes a minute of thought. But they're often in my words and deeds too.

***

I only spoke in public once in New York. I conquered the fear to accept the privilege of introducing a friend I admired professionally and personally. A lot of people came up to me after that and asked me to introduce them next time. I wouldn't mind - I absolutely believe in the goodness and the promise of every person. I would rather promote a person than a party.

I guess I can speak fondly of people because I am the greatest fan of their lives and the way they live it. My friends and I are fans of each other, and rejoice in each other's personal achievements. If I were to compile their life stories, it would surely be a book of their interesting lives. Somehow, I always see something impressive about them, whether they're accomplished artists or simple citizens. In a city of great impressions, it is a gift to meet people who are truly impressive where it counts.

When I introduced Christina, I told the audience that if she were to move back home, much would New York lose and Manila gain with just one plane ticket. I thought the same way about a new friend I connected with last month. I am not one to stop anyone from chasing his own destiny. But I re member thinking...if he were to take a golden opportunity to work for a top production company in L.A., here in New York, less compliments will be said. Less acts of generosity will be done. Less fun will be had.

With my utter amazement of my friends and their characters, I can't help connecting my old friends to my new ones. I often set up dinner or drinks among friends who work in the same industry professionally, or just because I know they're going to love each other just as much as I love them. And I'm always happy to hear about how the initial introduction or meal forms another friendship.

***

So now that I think about it, the highlights of my life have not been getting to the top of the Eiffel Tower or the Statue of Liberty, but getting to know these adorable people who have moved me in their own ways. Meeting someone can be like reading a book. You're interested and engrossed and can't wait to find out more. You've been engaged. And like a good book, the whole world fades away.

_"No love, no friendship can cross the path of our destiny without leaving some mark on it forever."_ Francois Maurice.

You don't, however, have to meet someone in person to see through their eyes to their soul. We meet people through their songs, movies, buildings, their writings. But if you're truly lucky, you meet them in a conversation, as in the book "Tuesdays With Morrie." A person's creations however, like bridges or published writings are the next best thing, and are links to the author's thoughts and soul.

Places don't have souls. I have two favorite spots in New York ( _Chez Es Saada_ and _Cafe del Artista_ ) that have shut down and left without saying goodbye. I felt so sad, because I knew I was never going to see them again. But isn't it sadder to lose touch with people? As proven in the time lapsed between Sunrise and Sunset, when Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy first met, and met again, nine years is a long time to miss out on someone's life, or your life.

You don't have to grow nine years older and wiser to get in touch again. Whether you cross the same block everyday or are oceans away, keeping in touch is as easy as moving your fingertips. If you don't keep in touch, you'll never know how the world has treated them. That's why I think it's important to meet your dad and your grandparents, even if you never knew them your whole life. In at least a minuscule way, you exist because of them. Your life is never worth not knowing them or not spending time with them. No matter what the circumstances are.

Monica and I bumped into each other, walking up the train station on 42nd Street and 5th Avenue on April 6, 2005 - exactly three years after first meeting as star-struck fans of Scott Wolf and Martin Scorsese at the first Tribeca Film Festival. As she told her friends, it made her day to see her first friend in New York again. It made mine too, and more. Since then, we'd learned that we've achieved our own (she now works for E!), and that we work three blocks from each other, live in the same neighborhood in Astoria and, after catching up on the years that have passed over lunch today, learned that we are currently in the same place in our lives.

Like Monica, I have friends I haven't seen in months - even years. Yet, they just live or work in the same great city as me. But with all the conflicting schedules, other engagements and rain checks, it's usual and accepted that months go by without communication. One e-mail slips in if you're lucky. But that doesn't mean you've slipped out of their minds, or vice versa. In fact, when you do finally bump into each other or catch up, you actually honestly say " _I've_ _been thinking about you lately_."

I just believe that rain checks should always be checked, no matter how long the delay. And extra effort should be exerted to meet a friend who's crossed oceans to be where you are. Missed calls are missed opportunities to connect with someone at a certain time and place. So thank God for voice messages and return calls.

***

Conversations usually start with small talk, and if you're lucky, quickly transcends to a real dialogue, a connection, even a bond. Ten minutes of great conversation could be worth ten years of a relationship with anyone else. An hour of great conversation, when with a phenomenal human being could affect and inspire you for a lifetime. If you just believe that strangers are friends that you are yet to know, and that beneath every amazing woman or man is a small-town boy or girl.

These are the people to meet once, twice, or many times, before you die. Or before they do.

And when we die, there's one more person to meet – and thank.
Rollercoaster Ride #11: Footprints in the snow

I hate puddles. The cold, dirty slush of snow that we have to go through like we did today.

But when struggling with someone, they're also the settings for the most romantic situations. Because there was only one pair of footprints in the snow - and they were not mine.

# Raise Your Hands

Your left hand sees red and thinks roses.

Your right hand sees red and thinks wine.

Your left hand plays hard-to-get.

Your right hand just plays hard.

Your left hand celebrates the day you were married.

Your right hand celebrates the day you were born.

Your left hand says I love you.

Your right hand says I love me too.

Women of the world, raise your right hand.

THESE ARE THE mantras of the Right-Hand-Ring ads of a diamond company* that proved brilliant and strong for many consumers. But like many independent women are keen to say, they do not have to buy right hand rings to feel successful and secure. They have felt that way for years.

So many battles have been won by women in this time and age. So many truths have been proven. Here in New York, and most anywhere else in the modernized world, women have gained the status, respect and admiration they very much deserve.

What bothers me are the extremists who feel they have to continuously prove themselves not for who they are, but for what they are. To borrow from New Yorker and street philosopher Dela Vega, "Start believing in yourself and stop trying to convince others." I hope they will stop thinking, talking and acting like they really do not need men. In 'Sex and the City,' even Carrie swooned when Mr. Big followed her to Paris. Doesn't it feel good to swoon sometimes? To fall, rather than to always stand ground? Have they lived in exclusive dorms for a year or more? I hope they got out with their sanity intact.

I remember deciding at a very young age of 5, that I wanted to go to a co-ed school and not to an exclusive school. Not that I was always comfortable with boys, but I just thought that it better represents the world as it is. Soirees spook me and battles of the sexes bother me.

Harmony is felt in a home that has a mother and father, and heard in a duet of a love song between a lady and her man. It has been said time and again that "Behind every man is a woman." Let's also know that, "Behind every woman is a man."

By not looking at feminists with the same eyes and (dis)regard as chauvinists, we are admitting that we too are still a little bit sexist – whether it's against women or men. Do we have better reasons to feel and act this way?

While on the subway, having a man stand to give a woman his seat - regardless of age or beauty – is like winning the lottery. God knows it never happens and because of the equal rights we've asked for, they shouldn't be expected to anymore. But I say, we don't need men to stand for us, we just need them to stand by us. We don't need men to sweep us off our feet. We just need them to keep us off our knees. We don't need them to be the wind beneath our wings - we can take flight on our own. It would just be nice to hear how the world is from their point of view.

No matter how men think and act like Martians, and often demonstrate that they're just not into us, we still need them for a variety of experiences.

And sometimes we want to raise our left hands too.

_* Advertisement done by J. Walter Thompson NY for Diamond Trading Company._ _The author of this compilation of essays does not claim ownership of any rights pertaining to the slogans, ads or the diamond company._
**Rollercoaster Ride: # 12:** **The two most certain things in the world**

As morbid as it may sound, I feel like finding love is as certain as dying. It will come. We just don't know when and how. We just try to live our lives the best that we can, not knowing when it'll be. We don't always think about death, but we know for sure it'll happen - to everyone of us, independently. Then neither should we wonder when we will meet the one. It will just happen, and we'll have to live each day to the fullest before then!

And so I say, the only two certain things in the world are love and death. We diplomats are tax-exempt!

# Living and Dying Expenses

"COST OF LIVING, living allowance, living expenses."

Sometimes the job, especially when here in Manhattan, doesn't even pay the bills. It merely keeps us alive. One would really rather put the check from your hand to your mouth, rather than to the greatest salesman in the world.

And here you realize the huge difference between living allowance and disposable income, in use and amount, as well as the dire need for pocket money, even if you're not a tourist.

So that is the cost of living in New York. Where you spend every penny you earn to live – here.

"She's dying."

I overheard this statement recently and I remember thinking it is the strongest verb, or act anyone could, and will do.

So the two sharpest verbs, I think, are living and dying. When you are not being one, you are being the other. But there are expenses for both. It's expensive to live, but it's also expensive to die – here or anywhere.

Through a recent exposure to a death and a funeral, I've learned that a death could make you a hundred thousand dollars poorer, that you'll thank your life insurance, or think of taking one. It seems that money and everything else - like plastic, survives us. We could even say money is forever. The borrower has departed, but her loans have not. And sometimes, the will consists not of inheritance, but of mortgage that the next generation, like the national debt, ends up paying for. After not anymore living, we still pay for having lived.

In a way, life works against extreme planners who end up paying for their own funeral. The money system keeps on going even after we've gone – making sure that wives get pensions, kids get business and Red Cross get donations. The clothes, the collections and expensive artwork we've invested in remain here on earth while we don't. So why aren't we investing on our soul?

The Administrative, Public Relations, and Protocol Officers

It's sad how the biggest act anyone would ever do in his life could become so administrative. Choosing the font for the tomb, sending the cards and letters of condolence, mailing the "thank-you for your sympathies" cards, and paying for mass cards pro-rated to the number of years the offering is good for.

Neither can I help but wonder if even our relationship with God is all about PR. We pray to His mother and the saints because they're all closer to Him in relation and proximity. The saints, like human being professionals, even have their own fields of expertise, that we pray to one when we lose something, to another who specializes in hopeless cases, and to San Roque when we think a dog is about to attack us. Are the avid, daily-mass-goers practicing good PR, since because they're always talking to God and God always sees them, God will remember them when they ask Him favors, and eventually get an invitation to His apartment or His party? Or could He feel like how we feel about some friends who keep calling, nagging, or hanging out with us, and whose constant presence and emails begin to annoy us, that we miss the ones who havent' actually kept in touch?

If we're somehow using PR with God, at least we're not following protocol. Unlike how political heads are referred to, served, and tolerated, at least with God, the real boss, the topmost of every hierarchy and President of all Presidents, there is no protocol that needs to be followed. We can approach him directly, without the need for any particular code of etiquette, attire or language. There's an open-door policy, and nobody's going to raise an eyebrow on your approach. We can choose any topic, any place, any channel, and we never have to set an appointment. Finally, we don't have to call Him, "Sir." You can say "My God," "Dear Lord," or " _Diyos Ko_."

Closet Kings and Queens

When we die, other people go through our closets, to see which ones to keep and which ones to donate. So more important than wearing good underwear everyday, let's try to keep our closets clean and free of dirty laundry. Let's try to keep it in order and clear our closet of skeletons – or our version of it (mine – some outfits unfolded and unhung.)

And until the core of our closet is ready for its ultimate inspection, we can always keep our walls up, our doors closed, and tell everyone to keep out. And let them know that we're not going anywhere anytime soon.

God has many ways of inviting us though, and recently, He's become more and more creative. I am inclined to believe we're all terminally ill. Some travelers' times of departure are just more obvious and calculated than others. Lucky for them who at least know how many weeks or months they're going to stay on earth. Some of us don't know - it just might be hours or minutes before our flight, and we are not packed yet.

What is obvious is that we are all waiting to board a plane to the sky. Some of us are checked in, others are in the boarding room, while the rest are in taxi. Some are taking off, while other planes land and arrivals are announced.

They've also just announced our plane's delayed. While waiting, we realize it's okay to just have made enough to live while touring this destination - because baggage limit is zero for the trip back home.
Rollercoaster Ride #13: World View

My brother means the world to me. He's my favorite person in the world. I just think he's a wonderful person. And I wonder if that will ever change.

Maybe it will, when I find somebody who becomes my world, and who becomes my favorite person in New York - to start.

Whether each airport scene is separated by a decade, a year or a month, they are the beginning and ending points of the full circle of life. We just have to make the rounds first.

# The Prodigal Daughter

I NEVER HAD to get used to "airport scenes."

That is, until three years ago, when I left Manila, and my family, to live in New York.

My Kuya (big brother), Ate (big sister), and I have in-fact, mastered former teen star Sheryl Cruz's repulsive habit she's been known for. The hand sign that says "Bye and I love you" at the same time. She bends her middle and ring fingers, to show both a wave and the letters – I, L and U – to her fans. It proves to be useful and truthful, I realize. And somehow not so cheesy anymore.

Every airport scene is truly emotional, because every goodbye means not seeing the persons on the other side of the NAIA (Ninoy Aquino International Airport) windows, for about a year, and every single hello means seeing them again for about only a week.

I try to rationalize this situation by remembering other people and families who've always had to go through the same experience, mostly for economic reasons. The maids we have at home who haven't seen their parents or siblings (who are in the provinces) for years.

And of course, my high school classmates who have never seen their dads because they work as seamen in Trinidad and Tobago or Saudi Arabia.

They do have their reasons, and sometimes that's what frustrates my dad because they know that my sister and I "don't really have to" work abroad. I try to keep still my fluttering heart by thinking that at some point, we all should start owning our lives. I believe that our search is not only limited to finding ourselves or our soulmates. We also need to find a perfect fit in terms of finding a place we feel most at-home-at. The place where we can truly be ourselves and maximize our true potential. For most people, it's the place of their birth. Just like we usually end up with someone from our own high school, our own country, or our own race, we usually live our whole lives in the place we were born in.

And usually, that's just how we like it. But between birth and death, when we usually want to be sent back home, there is really a gigantic world to revel in.

So here I am, reveling in the city of my choice. And a perfect example of how I am able to continuously be myself, and find myself in the top level of my bookshelf in my living room. The books that fill it tell of the many fields I've dipped in since coming to New York in 2002. Books on fashion design and styling, screenwriting, advertising, non-fiction writing, and the least I've explored – one on photography.

I've even taken classes in these fields at the Fashion Institute of Technology, Parsons School of Design, and School of Visual Arts. It's funny though, how my interest in a certain field would disappear right after I take a class about it. Fashion was too fleeting, and too messy. It was too hard to come up with a brilliant ad idea for dishwashing soap. And I cannot write a fictional dialogue amongst fictional characters.

I just think real life is far more interesting.

Knowing that we only have one life, we all try to live without regret. And I think this is how I do it, remembering the Bon Jovi song, "It's my life, it's now or never..."

But honestly, moments come when I ponder, is it really just my life? Or are there people in this world who think the world of us, that whatever happens in our lives affects them so deeply, that our life is also theirs? Do we really seize every opportunity against all odds, and therefore live without regret or live without regret when we actually let go of some opportunities?

There will always be this dichotomy, I believe. And moments come when irrevocable decisions have to be made.

The world has so much to offer, that my dream is that the world will be free enough to grant "world visas." Because I just realized that every denial to visit any country denies a dream, an enrichment of a life. It is an act of selfishness of a place that God created for all humankind, and a doubt of a dreamer's aspirations.

Until airports become less dubious of persons who are not threats to a country's safety, I guess, I can just "Imagine" with John Lennon. I just believe that everyone should have the opportunity to see the London Bridge, to have Mona Lisa look directly at them and learn first-hand that there is worse traffic in Rome. Then, the term "citizen-of-the-world" will stop being a false cliché of how some people describe themselves.

When I first moved to New York, and I would spot a cozy coffee shop or an eclectic lounge, I'd wish my old friends or cousins were with me. But not long after, I realized that I didn't need to be with the friends I knew in the first twenty years of my life. New York is full of amazing and genuine people with whom I am making new memories. I could say that our friendships are as true, I feel I've known them all my life! I've met people I could have never met if I let the coastline of the Philippines limit me.

Now I have friends who welcome me in their hometowns in Buenos Aires, to their offices in Notting Hill and their flats in Barcelona. So even if we just live abroad and experience being an ex-pat for five years, six months, or three weeks, it would be a self-fulfilling experience that cannot be replaced.

My brother for one, is happy to live in Manila for the rest of his life. But that does not discount his fond memories of studying in the Netherlands for a year, walking amongst the tallest people in the world and not understanding a word they're saying. I didn't think I'd live being away from him, but I did. I'm still alive.

I've never paid attention to Globe Telecom's commercials of International Direct Dialing (IDD) where the other party was either in Paris or New York. Now I can totally relate, and give special attention to the Sunday-night phone calls I have with my parents and brother in Las Piñas. Because when I calculate a half-hour chat with my family every Sunday, I'm only really talking to them for a total of 24 hours a year! But still, I thank God for phones, texts, emails and chats, we are still in touch even when we're ten thousand miles, one thousand dollars and vacation leave credits apart.

So, I think this is the universal phenomenon for the prodigal sons and daughters. Airport scenes are sometimes train station scenes or ship deck scenes. And just like the first and last scenes of "Love Actually" it is a universal experience. One that covers the most dramatic of human emotions: love, longing, fear, hope, acceptance. Whether each airport scene is separated by a decade, a year or a month, they are the beginning and ending points of the full circle of life. We just have to make the rounds first.
Rollercoaster Ride #14: Pssst.

It takes a lot to get a New Yorker's attention.

Police capture a man on the street, you walk on by. Fellas thrust a flyer to your face, you walk on by. There are few situations that New Yorkers will find important enough to stop them on their tracks. There goes the good Samaritan.

Unlike in Manila, turning heads in Manhattan will have to take more than a hiss.

Modern New Yorkers are marching to the beat of their own drums, or swaying to the ballads of their ipods. (They just have to keep from singing out loud, and their penchant for Britney Spears or Meatloaf will stay between their ears.) People are so trapped in their own brains, that being just a looker doesn't much help anymore either.

But some men here are total lookers, girls just can't help but look - around. They're so pretty, men are already becoming objects too. Perhaps they know of that, and learned to spend more hours in the loo. And in a looker city like New York, with professions that pay based on the way you look, that's not necessarily a bad thing.

I've always called it emotional rollercoaster. Just don't stay at the bottom too long, and try to enjoy the heights as long as you can. And know that you're not the only one on this ride. Hold your friend's hand. And then scream Kowabunga!

# Epilogue

The largest rollercoaster in the world

Freakin' rollercoaster ride. I lost my stomach ages ago. Probably when I was 22.

Those columns are monthly, the thoughts come daily. And because the drink with the friend won't transpire 'til Friday, you'll have to drink with me. Mojitos, anyone? Or Muscat? And then, there's that post-venting day when you're either red from laughter

or something else.

Turns out, we don't have to drive all the way down to South Jersey to take a ride. New York is Great Adventure, just in disguise. Covered by streets, taxis and drop-dead-gorgeous men. It has more than Six Flags though. It has 200 - at the UN and in Rockefeller Plaza. My friend Mike was right. Life in NY is just full of ups and downs. You just can't tell where the tops and bottoms are. The tops could well be on the sidewalk of 45th Street, even if the Empire State Building is on 34th Street. My knees just went weak. I don't know what came over me. And the bottom could well be on a roof deck on 26th Street, even if you're 500 feet above ground.

I've always called it emotional rollercoaster. Just don't stay at the bottom too long, and try to enjoy the heights as long as you can. And know that you're not the only one on this ride. Hold your friend's hand. And then scream _Kowabunga_!

I feel that my life is a book and I'm on chapter five. And the plot is thickening. In terms of love, I've had a few hits and misses, and like Rob Thomas, I'm beginning to despise another heartache on my list. For my girl friends and I, we all feel that the past two months was the end of an era. I just turned the last page of my chapter this morning. It felt different. Not necessarily good, but I hope it will turn out to be....

# About the Author

Photo by Kirby Calvario

" _The most significant artworks are the ones you create yourself. And the most memorable New York spots are the places where you make memories._ " - Carissa Villacorta

New York City is a gift to those who live a creative life, and one that Carissa Villacorta is happy to receive. Wondering and wandering being her two favorite activities, the city's endless choices, offers, and corners provide inspiration to Carissa's writings.

As a full-time author, feature writer and PR practitioner, Carissa Villacorta has made New York City her home, her office and playground for past decade. It has also been a place of reflection and wonderment, which Carissa documented in this book, Surreality - a book of essays about life in the city, which she launched in paperback in 2006, which she was 26.

Reading Surreality is sharing in Carissa's way of thinking, and way of life. In it, she shares her favorite philosophies and her tendency to uplift friends and readers who may not see the perennial rainbow in the sky. Lessons will always be ours to keep. What use are experiences if there are no lessons? What use are lessons if they are not learned? These are the thoughts that Carissa usually shares with a friend over coffee, or over a mojito. But pending those one-on-one conversations, which she loves, Carissa will speak with you in this way first. Someday, one sweet day, she'd love to hear your story too.

Visit Carissa's website

http://www.carissavillacorta.com

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Carissa Villacorta, author

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