By: Iris P. Concepcion
I was gladdened when some of the people I look up to are already enmeshed with women empowering works, are making sure we shall have a solid sense of business structures and are eating $54 hotdog lunch treats for staff instead of paying tickets for tennis conferences while at work and do Maiu as a sense of creative brainstorming.
I likewise received a message from someone with a good sense of brain in between her ears:
"Great women talk about ideas.....average women talk about random things. Insecure women talk about other women. Jealous women try to death to be the center of attention. But we pretty women? We never talk. We just smile, flip our hair and everyone notices us."
I had been dubbed haughty for the things I air but somehow, the universe makes a quality sensibility and connectivity to what I had been doing. I had been proud when the film series created a creative "reality" interaction that does not depend on questionable multi-media facilities. I couldn't be more prouder when scriptwriters I had revered from afar pop out and mention this writer's name over splendid reel of incisive ads about seashells, flying. Of orange kites travelling and zeroing in on the beautiful atmosphere of inspirational journeys that give back to writers their worth of exceptional works.
I am happy to have a President who creates this kind of scribbling environment without much fluff of P.R. work. One commentator said he needs not much P.R. machinery since he speaks straight. I think, this transparency to fix the country is his best asset. Those who hire much for covering up must have sinned a lot. Remember too that he is the brother of a sassy sibling who had taken much punches from these same set of world-renowned experts but is now smarter for standing it up on her own.
More often than not, you'd know you have done well when they pick on your hair, armpits and mouth to defend their turf of reliability. They have truly adored nationalist slants with in-depth research work. Perhaps, guitar picking is better than weeping.
I wish I could speak about the conversations reserved only for discussing ideas I had with women who did not speak much but had done much, much more for people. They are sweeter, much more life-changing than the kibitzer of noise that cast nothing more than a dent of amusement and "who, them?" kind of chutzpah.
Evelyn Amore: I have always known you as a creative supporter of the medium. Knowing you upclose is one of the best gifts the directorial headquarter has done for this corn. While the bubbling breasts (those who get emotional when they see snow peaks and mountain tops--ohh the hasty exits and growling sounds they make when guilt strikes in unholy hours) try hard to get noticed, you gave me your sense of smart grace.
Thank you for allowing me to fly, sister of the kindred one. You are beautiful, truly.