I saw my friend Nachi the other night and forced him to install a drawing app on his phone because (1) he draws 10x better than I do, and (2) I wanted someone to sketcht with. 

Yup. SKETCHTING. It’s a thing. Or at least I’m trying to make it one. You know how I mentioned the other day how Instagram was making me want to just draw all the time and never blog again? 

Yeah well, it’s kind of carrying over into my text and instant messaging as well. I’ve been using the Sketchbook Mobile X app on Sammy (my Samsung Galaxy S4) to just DRAW my text and IM messages instead of typing them out.

So Sketch + Texting = SKETCHTING. It’s a thing. 

Problem was, I didn’t really have anyone to sketcht with. I tried it with Gem on Facebook Messenger, and here’s what happened. 

Notice how she just went all “Ha ha (whatever)” then jumped straight back into business mode? And then belatedly sent me a scarily massive emoticon to try and make up for it??

Not an ideal sketcht-mate, my friend Gem. 

At least she was better than my sister, who I sent this sketcht to via Whatsapp right when I was about to go get Botox:

She didn’t even respond. :( Though to be fair, she lives in another time zone and has 4 young kids. 

Now Nachi, on the other hand, was a natural. Here’s how our first attempt at FB sketch messaging went:

There was more, but you see what I mean, right? SKETCHTING. It’s a thing. Not-so-instant messaging, but so much more entertaining than the regular kind. :)

So yeah .. SKETCHTING. Just another reason I love Sammy the S4 so much. (I could never sketcht on Blecchy the Blecch-berry.) Try it! All you need is:

1.  A drawing app. I’ve tried a few, but I like the the Sketchbook Mobile X app best. It’s free, it’s easy to use, and it’s available on any Android or Apple phone. It’s great on the S4 though because the screen is pretty big, so I don’t really need to zoom in or anything. 

2. A good mobile data plan (so you can sketcht on the go). I use Globe Powersurf, which is like P499 a month for 1GB of data, and it serves my sketchting purposes pretty well.

3. Some imagination, and a sense of humor. Talent is optional. :)

Have fun!  And hey, if you wanna sketcht with me, I’m game.

Shoot me a sketcht message on Twitter or Facebook, and I swear I’ll sketcht you back. Well, at least once, and not necessarily right away. :D I’ll post all the best ones on FB or in a future post. :)

Happy sketchting!

I’m over on Rappler again today, with a follow-up to that other article on 10 Ways We Sabotage Our Own Success.

Go check it out:  6 Ways to Squash Self-Doubt. 

Here are a few drawings from the piece — which you probably won’t understand unless you read it…

So go and read it. :D

Enjoy! 

So I haven’t had much time to blog this weekend because I’ve been really busy with all sorts of stuff… Okay fine, I’ve mostly been hooked on the Fabstagram...

…and it’s kind of ruining blogging with words for me. 

I’ve also been checking out the voting counts on the Tatt Awards website way more often than is probably good for me.

Oh, and every 3 hours or so looking in the mirror and wondering if the Botox has made my eyebrows unnaturally high.

But I couldn’t let the day pass without greeting all you dads out there a very  Happy Father’s Day, because dads are awesome…

…and reminding all of you who still have your dads around to give them an extra big hug, because I really miss mine. 

Have a lovely Father’s day, everyone! Be back soon. :)

So remember that secret I was dying over last week?

Well this was it. My blog’s a finalist for “Blogger Phenom of the Year” in the 2013 Tatt Awards!

I can’t even begin to describe how thrilled I was when I found out, especially since I didn’t know I was even in the running.

So SQUEE!

It was a little excruciating to have to keep it to myself, because as I already mentioned in my other post, I’m really not so good with the secrets. So I had to just content myself with secret happy award thoughts and practicing a possible acceptance speech.

But hey, I did it. (Well, okay, kind of. I told a few people — but only like 5. Okay FINE - maybe 12. ish). But anyway, they finally announced the finalists last night (until then I had no idea who the others were) — and here they (I mean, we) are.

Of course when I saw this, the first thing that came into my head was this.

I know, I know. Sabotaging my own success. But COME ON!! These other blogs are beyond awesome! I even wrote a post about Pepper.ph once. 

So fine, maybe I should also start practicing my “gracious loser” smile.

Yeah, it needs some work. Maybe the Botox will help, when it kicks in.

And here’s another thing. I’m really embarrassed about asking people to vote for me. I can barely ask people to like my Facebook page, much less start self-campaigning for an award.

So um… yeah…good luck to me. 

I know people say this all the time and we’re always “Haha! Yeah, RIGHT…” about it, but it really is an honor to be considered at all — and for me that’s already a win. So thank you, Tatt Awards. I really am thrilled beyond belief.

And if you do by any chance want to vote, you can do so at the Tatt Awards website, every hour of every day until June 20. 

Umm.. you know… only if you want… 

Have a great day, everyone! :)

I really don’t know why I’m not more embarrassed about admitting this, but I went and had Botox for the first time today. I’d been thinking about doing it for a while, but I was always too terrified to go through with it. 

Because really, to go up to a doctor and pay him to give you a bunch of poison injections in the head just seems.. oh I don’t know… A LITTLE INSANE.

Also, I didn’t want to disappoint Teenage Chinie, who had such great plans of aging with grace and just accepting wrinkles as badges of an expressive character and a life well-lived. 

Sorry, teenage me. I caved. If it helps, I didn’t JUST do it for vanity. The thing that really convinced me to go for it was that my doctor cousin Martin also told me that Botox was a good cure for migraines. 

Note: Based on this article I read though, I think you need a different set of Botox injections when you use it as a migraine cure. BUT WHATEVS. The excuse worked for me. So if I do get a migraine in the future, I’ll just tell Martin he’s full of it.

Oh wait, I probably won’t be able to make that face now that I’m all Botoxed up…

So anyway, a friend of mine (who refuses to be named - haha) was dead set on getting it, so I decided to tag along when she went to see our dermatologist friend Frank for a consultation.

The consultation’s pretty simple, and takes like five minutes. You just make faces so he can check your wrinkle sitch. 

And from there the doctor will tell you if you’re a candidate, and more or less how much Botox he’ll need to stick into you to iron those wrinkles out. Easy peasy.

So we set an appointment for the deed itself, and we were all “Whee! We’re gonna look younger!” 

.. in spite of objections from our husbands, who were all “ROAR!! WHY YOU NEED THAT CRAZY STUFF?!?” because guys just never get it…

..and my mom, who was concerned that I would no longer be able to smile. Like I was planning to paralyze my ENTIRE FACE or something. 

The procedure is a little more stressful than the consult, of course, but really not as bad as I thought. It’s actually more painful to WATCH than it is to actually have it yourself — as I discovered when my Anonymous Friend opted to go first.

So if you’re Botox-curious and planning to try it at some point, here’s how it goes. (I actually took some notes on my phone while my friend was getting her Botox — and of course they’re drawings, because if I took photos of her she’d probably inject a shizload of Botox STRAIGHT INTO MY HEART.)

Here are my actual notes (which I made on this sketching app I use on Sammy the S4, because I didn’t have my trusty iPad and Paper app with me.)

So yup as you’d probably expect, Frank takes a bunch of pictures from all angles first, to be able to compare your wrinkly self to your smooth Botoxed self later. Then he marks all the injection spots, and then his assistant tries to give you brain freeze with a bag of ice. 

And then the shots begin, with the deepest ones first (in the furrow between your eyebrows).

Oh yeah.. the bleeding. This is the part that I mentioned was painful to watch, because I didn’t really expect the injections to bleed. I’m not sure if this is because they were in the face or because ALL injections bleed. I wouldn’t know because I try to make it a point to never watch when I’m being injected, EVER.

So yeah they do bleed, but not a lot. Just like… single drops. But it turns out I bleed more than most.

Okay you know I’m exaggerating again, right? Frank really did say that - and rather tersely ask his assistant for more cotton - but I didn’t bleed THAT much. 

Pain-wise, it’s totally manageable. My Anonymous Friend said that the forehead and crow’s feet areas hurt for her, so I was all “Frank, I might slug you if it hurts. Just warning.” and he offered to tie me up… 

…which I declined but appreciated because really, you don’t want to be slugging someone who happens to have a needle in your face.

But to be honest I didn’t even feel a thing when he did the shots between my brows, and just felt a little sting in all the other parts. And not even like an ant-bite sting — less than that. It’s SO okay. Not even worth a curse word.

Frank said that after the procedure (which is like, less than 30 minutes all in), the injection points might swell slightly and the crow’s feet area might bruise, so I was all set to cover up with bangs and shades, but pfft. Hardly even noticeable.  As is usually the case, reality was so much less exciting than my imagination.

Results aren’t instant (It’s been 10 hours, and I can still frown); the full effect takes about two weeks. So I guess we’ll see how I look then. But I’m really glad I finally did it, at the very least just to conquer another fear. I actually wish I’d started 10 years ago, because it would’ve actually prevented some of the wrinkles I already have now. 

Oh well, live and learn. Anyway, if you’re interested in finding out more, just ask your friendly neighborhood dermatologist, or if you’re a Southerner, go see my fabulous friend Frank*.

Okay, off I go to check the mirror again. Cheers!

*Dr. Francis Michael Marcelino (Asian Hospital): 0915-903-6151

I got a new reader request in the comments of my blog the other day, and I thought that today would be a pretty fitting day to answer it, because it’s Independence Day!

And I kind of wanted to free her. Because I remember being caught in the same trap when I was her age. Here’s the question:

I really do remember being in the same boat in my late twenties, having complicated pseudo-relationships and thinking that I was never going to find the right guy.

And when you’re in that “trap” everyone who tells you to be patient, and that “he’ll come when you’re not looking” is just annoying. 

I did eventually meet my hubby-to-be right before I hit 30, during a New Year’s party at the turn of the millennium. You’d think that would’ve been some sort of epic event, but no, I actually thought he was kind of an A-hole.

He was cute though, so I figured he’d be okay to keep around for eye candy purposes. ;)

We started hanging around with each other, but I still never really thought it would amount to anything. In fact, when my friends Anna and Suzette told me that they thought he liked me, I pretty much said that getting together with him was never going to be on my agenda.

Yeah, whatevs. Famous last words. I think we all know where this is going.

Three years later…

And to this day Suzette never lets me forget it.

So anyway… NO, I’m not going to be one of those annoying people telling you that “the One” is just around the corner. (Because as I already mentioned before, I don’t even really believe in “The One.”)

What I WILL tell you is this: While you’re waiting, embrace your freedom.

I’m not saying that when you meet someone you’ll be trading in singlehood for slavery or anything like that. But it is true that there are some things you just really won’t be able to do anymore once you’ve settled down.  SO DO THEM NOW. 

I consider myself pretty lucky that I married late, because I really did get to do a lot of things then that are maybe not impossible, but more difficult (or not advisable) now. And I wonder… how much more would I have done if I hadn’t been moping around feeling sorry for myself because I hadn’t yet found Mr. Right?

Think about it. This is a wonderful time in your life. It’s so full of possibilities. Don’t waste them. Go. Be happy. Be FREE. 

Hope this helps. :)

Happy Freedom Day!

Posters c/o Huffington Post

I think I’m finally over my crazy New Adult novel phase, because really — there’s only so much sex and stress a reader can take.

And I wasn’t really in the mood to read any of the books I’m reviewing for Netgalley, so I opted for The Avery Shaw Experiment - a light, easy teen-romance-type read - thinking I could just put it down and fall asleep whenever I wanted. 

Okay, SO NOT THE CASE. It was just too adorable.

Here’s the blurb from Amazon.

When Avery Shaw’s heart is shattered by her life-long best friend, she chooses to deal with it the only way she knows how—scientifically. 

The state science fair is coming up and Avery decides to use her broken heart as the topic of her experiment. She’s going to find the cure. By forcing herself to experience the seven stages of grief through a series of social tests, she believes she will be able to get over Aiden Kennedy and make herself ready to love again. But she can’t do this experiment alone, and her partner (ex partner!) is the one who broke her heart.

Avery finds the solution to her troubles in the form of Aiden’s older brother Grayson. The gorgeous womanizer is about to be kicked off the school basketball team for failing physics. He’s in need of a good tutor and some serious extra credit. But when Avery recruits the lovable Grayson to be her “objective outside observer,” she gets a whole lot more than she bargained for, because Grayson has a theory of his own: Avery doesn’t need to grieve. She needs to live. And if there’s one thing Grayson Kennedy is good at, it’s living life to the fullest.

Hee! So kilig. I was like this until 2am.

Also, like this, because her characters are pretty hilarious.

I know, I know, I’m WAY too old for this type of teen romance shiz, but I don’t care. After reading The Avery Shaw Experiment, I’m totally grabbing all of Kelly Oram’s other books. 

(Photo c/o http://glitterintheairamm.blogspot.com)

So yeah, if you’re looking for a light, funny, squee-filled read, go check Kelly Oram out. Or whatever, get your daughter to check her out, if your tastes are little more mature than mine. :) 

What are YOU reading right now? Let me know!

Happy reading!

p.s. I actually already read Serial Hottie. In fact that’s how I discovered Kelly Oram in the first place. My friend Ledz had given it a 2-star rating, and since we never like the same books, I was all “AHA!!”

And true enough, I did. :)  Enjoy!

When I set up the Fabstagram last week, I said I wanted it to be a happy, feel-good-type space, so I really have no idea why I posted this yesterday.  

Because it’s a bit of a wrist-slasher, that quote. SO not feel-good. In ANY way whatsoever. Every time I read it, I’m like this:

The thing is, even though this isn’t actually my case (I married “the book”) it really resonated with me because I kind of remember feeling like that more than once in my lifetime. Not necessarily just about luuurrve interests, but about friends too.

It always sucks to realize that you’re not as important to someone as you thought you were — or to feel that you’re not as valued as you want to be. Or to know that no matter how much you deserve it, some people will just never love you back.

I think it’s probably one of the most horrible disappointments we experience in life.

So I was all mopey for a while, drawing it…

Because seriously — WTF was up with that quote, Tom McNeal???  Who are you, the MAYOR OF THE PIT OF DESPAIR???

And then I saw this while “exploring” Instagram, and it totally made me LOL.

That’s the thing, see. No matter how much life or people might let you down, YOU GET OVER IT. You survive. You really do. One day, you just wake up and realize it doesn’t hurt anymore. And you move on. 

So chin up, chums. Whatever crap you might be going through right now… “This too shall pass.”

Have a wonderful week. :)

I’ve been sitting on a really awesome secret the past couple of days, and I have to say, it’s killing me that I can’t tell anyone. Seriously. 

Now before you all start jumping to conclusions… NO, I AM NOT PREGNANT. I don’t know why everyone always assumes that whenever I say I have awesome secret news. 

Oh wait, hang on, I think I DO know why…

Sigh. Anyway…

So yup I have a secret, and I can’t really talk about it for a while, so like I said…

Because I’m really not so good with the secrets. Just ask my sister Bambi, with whom I’ve played this scene countless times.

Or ask my friend Dino. Ages ago, he spent a long car ride telling me how much he liked my BFF Gem. And naturally, I promised that his secret was safe with me.

Yeah, not so much. Here’s what happened like 5 seconds after I got out of the car. 

HEY. Don’t judge me. I happened to know that she liked him too. A LOT. And they’re married now, so I like to think that my blabbermouthiness had a little bit to do with that. You’re welcome, Dino and Gem. 

Or just ask my hubby. He’ll tell you.

I spent like half the morning trying to think of ONE secret that I successfully kept to myself, and I’m rather ashamed to admit this, but I got nothin’.

I should probably have this sign made for frequent future use.

But hey, in my defense, when the secret is a serious one, I only tell ONE super-trustworthy other person, and I leave out the details. I can be discreet, in my own way. But I just ALWAYS HAVE TO TELL at least one other person. 

How about you?  

I was wondering if this was normal, or if I just suffer from some rare, out-of-control form of verbal diarrhea, so I did a little research and AHA! Guess what I found out?? Apparently, it’s a woman thing. 

A study commissioned by British skincare company Simple showed that women can only keep secrets for about 32 minutes. 

“This poll clearly shows that women really struggle to keep secrets,” said Simple Spokesman told the Daily Mail. 

“Spilling the beans in just 32 minutes is very fast work, but with modern technology someone’s juicy secret can be spread to huge amount of people all over the world in a very short space of time.”

I totally believe that. Except in my case, it’s more like 10 minutes.

But still — apparently I’m not alone. And hey, don’t even think that men are exempt from this. Most of the guys I know are even more gossipy than their wives.

So why is it so hard to keep a secret? There are several reasons, not the least among which is that all people are just curious by nature, and we tend to be fascinated by the unknown — especially when it involves the sordid lives of others.

I think some of it is tied up with ego too. Secrets are exclusive, and therefore sexy. It makes us feel super cool to be in the know, and even cooler when we can show others that we’re part of the elite “I know a secret” crowd.

You’ll notice this on Facebook, for example, when someone posts something cryptic and everyone’s all “Why? Wassup? What’s wrong?” — and there’s always at least one person who’s like “I KNOW!“ 

And you’re like…

But 2 seconds later, you’re all…

It’s normal, I think. But another study suggests we spill secrets simply because NOT doing so can really feel like a heavy physical burden. 

Researchers from Tufts University found that people who know of another’s deep secret … were more likely to perceive certain tasks as more arduous.

For one part of the study, participants were asked to remember a secret they were told — some were asked to remember a “meaningful secret,” while others were just asked to remember a “small personal secret,” Everyday Health reported. Then, they were asked to estimate things, including how steep a hill was and how far a distance was.

The people with the meaningful secrets “estimated hills to be steeper [and] perceived distances to be farther,” researchers wrote in the study. - Huffington Post

I can believe that too.  Of course. (Hello…Were you not paying attention when I said I was DYING??)

So yeah, this explains a lot, and kind of makes me feel better. But it also challenges me to try and rise above. I’d like to be able to think of myself as someone that can be trusted 100%, so I really want to work on that and try a little harder.

Unfortunately this means that none of you will be finding out what it is that’s making me turn cartwheels in my head. 

Yeah, I know, I suck.

(Told you I’d need that sign)

But don’t worry, I can probably tell you by sometime next week. :)  In the meantime, just try and think of something else. I know I will. 

Cheers! :)

Okay, so don’t laugh at me or anything, but I just started using Instagram. I know, I know, kinda late to the party. 

In my defense, I’ve actually had an Instagram account for ages, but its primary purpose was really just to stalk Chris Hemsworth.

Anyway I was never really into it, because everyone seems to post their Instagram pics on Facebook or Twitter anyway, right? So I really didn’t see the need to follow them on Instagram as well. And we all know I’m pretty camera-shy, so it’s not as if I was going to post any of those selfies so many Instagrammers seem to be so fond of. 

So anyway ever since I got Sammy the S4 I started stalking following a few more people and I kind of felt like a loser for having zero pics on my own account. So fine. I started putting stuff up today. 

I won’t be posting any selfies anytime soon, but I will share all the random doodles, reminders and illustrated quotes I sometimes come up with and post on my Facebook page (but not on my Tumblr.) Like this one from yesterday:

And this one from a few weeks ago:

Basically I just want it to be a happy space people can browse through for a quick fab, funny or feel-good fix. So here we go!

Introducing… THE FABSTAGRAM!

Feel free to follow, if you like.  :)

Oh, and if you know of any interesting accounts I should be stalking now that I’m an (ahem) Instagrammer, let me know in the comments. :D Thanks!