Because We All Have Storm Stories To Tell

Written August 12, 2012.

The floods brought about by the Storm-With-No-Name monsoon in the past week obviously affected the lives of countless people. Some lost their homes, their possessions, their livelihoods. Some lost a friend, a neighbor, a loved one, a beloved pet. Maybe some out there also lost a little bit of faith, of hope.

For the fortunate ones, the nasty weather meant nothing but a little inconvenience, an excuse to miss school or work and stay home in a warm, dry bed, watch TV or tinker with the laptop all day (Guilty!). We watched the news with a mixture of horror and sympathy as brown waters engulfed countless towns and provinces, and we wished we could do more for them than a couple of prayers and some bags of old clothes and canned goods.

The message in the service today really touched me. This is not the first and last storm that will come. And this is not the only storm we will encounter in our lives. Even in sunny weather, we are constantly beset by other "storms," big or small: problems at home, pressure at school, issues at work, heartbreak, broken relations, rocky friendships, financial woes, wavering faith.

Pastor Adrian's question struck me hard: What do you do when a storm hit you?

Difficult times like these always bring out a myriad of reactions from us. We panic at the first sign of trouble and immediately ask for help. We get scared and angry and ask the heavens, why do these things happen to us? That was how I normally reacted before whenever things become rocky or they don't go the way I planned them to. "Ano ba naman yan God, problema na naman? Hindi pa nga tapos yung huli, meron na naman bago?"

I'm a fairly young Christian, but even before, I was taught to trust in God, to trust in Jesus. Nowadays, even as I continuously work on building my relationship with Him, I still fall into the trap of worrying. Sometimes, I'm still afraid. I have to constantly remind myself to trust that He is in control. God is indeed bigger and stronger than my "storms."

At the same time that the heavy rains were drenching almost everything in its path and wreaking havoc in cities and towns, I was also trying to weather some personal storms: a strong wind of obedience to Him but which hurt someone I love and respect; whether to take refuge from a steady downpour of affection from someone that both delights yet confuses me at the same time; the constant thundering of uncertainty in my career and wrestling with the long-overdue decision of whether to finally step out of my comfort zone.These storms are still raging inside me as I write this, and they won't just dissipate any time soon. But knowing that I am not alone in this keeps me going.

In Matthew 8:23-27, "Then he got into the boat and his disciples followed him. Suddenly a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. The disciples went and woke him, saying, 'Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!' He replied, 'You of little faith, why are you so afraid?' Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm. The men were amazed and asked, 'What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!'"

I remember when Ging was younger. Like any typical kid, she used to be very afraid when there's a storm and sharp lightning bolts would slice the sky and the loud grumble of thunder would immediately follow. She would jump in bed with me if at home, or would scoot close to me and hug me if we happen to be outside. She was scared but as long as I was there to hold her, she would be fine. She trusted in me not to let anything bad happen to her.

I pray that I would be like this with Jesus more often. That when a storm hits me, when I feel uncertain, inadequate or desolate, I will be as calm as He is. The Bible says in Psalm 34:18, "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those who are crushed in spirit."

When faced with a storm, it doesn't matter where I am, but who I'm with.



*Illustration from Google. No copyright infringement intended.

Zambales... is More.

Written September 8, 2012.

"Zambales tayo!" Riz, my seatmate back in the old test team, said to me sometime in late 2011. We were enjoying our usual afternoon chitchat about food, and we had somehow ventured into sea foods again -ihaw-ihaw, ensaladang mangga and all that shiz. The last time we indulged in this idle talk, the whole team ended up splitting a 6K-plus tab at Seaside near Daang Hari (no regrets, by the way).

I was already warming up to the idea - I'm putty in anyone hands at the mere prospect of traipsing around sand and surf. But when she added, "It's a virgin, isolated island so we'll have it all to ourselves," I was already packing my swimsuits and sunblock in my mind.The team spent a few weeks saving up for it, clogging our emails with teasers and cartoons of us in summer get-ups and finally counting down the days til we can get off for the much-awaited weekend.

It was January 27, 2012. There were twelve of us all in all: AJ, our line manager; Aclo, the team's clown and AJ's personal stress-reliever; Riz, the aforementioned teammate who also happened to be schoolmates to our connection at the island; Hernie, the all-important photographer with the DSLR camera; Abie, who was eager for some me-time away from mommy duties; Ranil, our machong dalaga; Honey, the import from another process and unofficial mother hen; Red, one of our two managers for ops; Iela, our adventurous little pare; Trixie and her husband, Robert. I believe Brian and Chelai, our other teammates, regret not joining up to this day (since this was also the last time the team went on an out of town). Kasi eh!

We all prepared PHP 1500-2000 budget, and with the help of some team funds, bought some necessities at the grocery and off we went to Pasay after shift to the Victory Liner terminal. Fare to Iba, Zambales cost about  PHP 360 and we left at around 10PM. We were about to leave when we got texts that the salary is in so we all made mad dashes to the ATM and fortunately were not left by the very efficient driver and conductor.


Picture taking at the terminal.

The ride was comfortable and we arrived in Zamba around 1AM. We met our contact there and we stayed at their home until around 3AM, after which we rode a jeep to the port. We were expecting to leave at 5Am so we can maximize the time at the island; unfortunately, our bangkero didn't arrive until before 7AM. We whiled the time away playing Pinoy Henyo using Honey's phone, caught snatches of sleep at the carinderia seats, ate and also bought fresh seafood and vegetables at the bulungan (which is what they call the palengke/bagsakan of newly-caught fishes and sea foods). I can't remember the prices since I left Honey and the rest to haggle but I believe we were able to score them dirt cheap.



We waded into the murky shore water that smelled strongly of spoiled fish entrails, to meet our bangkero. The boat was just a few planks sturdier than a raft and we managed to load all our bags and food, then squeezed in whatever space was available. The ride cost around PHP 2000 and this would be the same boat to bring us back, so aside from the bangkero, he had a couple other guys, his wife and two kids, I presume. The whole contraption looked precarious, but everybody else seemed at ease and not thinking of any Titanic-esque scenarios even with the absence of life vests or any safety paraphernalia so I just uttered a silent prayer for our safety.

The trip lasted about an hour and forty-five minutes, and since the sea was calm, we were able to enjoy the early morning view of the ocean. I was still a little nervous all throughout the trip - deep, dark waters have always been one of my fears - and since I was 28 days into my self-imposed month-long alcohol embargo, I must've smoked almost half of my pack of ciggies while I tried to distract myself through music. (I've completely quit smoking now, by the way.) However, all jitters vanished when we caught the first view of the island. It was so serene and calm, just a little pocket of white sand, clear water, lush pine trees and greenery and jagged mountain rocks tucked in some corner of Zambales. I think it's called Sitio Sampaloc.



Here's where we got off.


While we squealed in delight and marveled at the beauty of the place, we unloaded our stuff and proceeded to the nipa huts at the far end of the beach. It was very simple, not really set up like a resort. But there was running freshwater, relatively clean but dark toilets and bathrooms (there is no electricity in the island, after all) and plenty of bamboo seats and tables.  We started preparing lunch since most are already hungry and eager to start the whole beach adventure.  Hernz took on the “manly” role of chopping firewood, Aclo and AJ cleaned the sea food and Honey just about took over cooking everything else. The rest of us chopped veggies and took pictures, nyaha!  The result was an impressive spread that far exceeded Riz and my afternoon sea food cravings:  kinilaw na tuna, inihaw na pusit, sinigang na hipon, ensaladang mangga and salted egg with bagoong, ensaladang inihaw na talong,  inihaw na bangus, hinalabos na hipon and lots of ice cold Coke and fresh mangoes and watermelons afterwards.





We rested a bit then started the hike to the water falls. It was about a 30-minute gentle sloping hike, and the view was again, so worth the sweating. The water was cold and very clean, we drank it! There were several naturally-made pools and even rock formations that looked like water slides. There were other visitors, by the way, probably from the other side of the island or just docking for the day, but we pretty much did whatever we pleased.


On the lower left photo, that's dry cow dung Aclo is holding out. Why? That's just like him.

After the hike, each of us just plopped down everywhere and dozed off til about 6PM, when we groggily realized it would be completely dark soon and we had to start taking baths and cooking. Dinner was leftovers and some of the hotdogs saved for the bonfire later.

We lit the branches and wood pieces we had gathered earlier in the day and started roasting hotdogs and marshmallows. We laid mats just a few feet away from the water. It wasn't terribly cold, and the starry night was just perfect for hanging out on the shore. What followed was one of the most fun, revealing and thought-provoking talks I've had in a long time - and I was 100% sober! Can't say the same for the others who hit up the vodka that night but thankfully, nobody did the usual "panawan." After a "liberating" play time sesh with the millions of planktons lighting up the shallow waters, we decided we were either too sleepy or too tipsy to walk back to the cottage so we just decided to sleep right there on the shore.



The next morning was spent frolicking on the beach, taking pictures and tanning ourselves with beer. Three of us had our period then but that didn't stop us from enjoying! For more pictures, you can check out Hernie's album of our trip: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.369184433095786.103721.100000126972033&type=3



Sadly, all good things must come to an end, and we started rinsing and packing up around 11AM. We bid the island goodbye under a  sun so sweltering, you'd think it was summer. Red, who spent so much time and beer tanning himself, opted to sit at the front of the boat while we all scrambled under the trapal shade and caught some sleep. We arrived at the bulungan again around 3Pm, and it smelled twice as bad as the day before.

We rode a jeep to The Coffee Shop, one of the famous eateries in the area, famed for their giant tacos and American diner-style food. I had been here before with my sister's family, who lived in nearby Balanga, Bataan. The place was simply furnished, if a bit rough on the edges, but their delicious fare and relatively cheap price (I mean, compare it to Manila standards) belied the sparse surroundings. Their giant taco shells are actually made from what looked like fried spring roll (lumpia) wrapper, same goes for their taco salad bowl. I personally recommend these two, as the whole thing cost only about PHP 110 and are chock-full of beef and vegetables and cheese. Their banana split, fruit and milk shakes, calamares, club house sandwich and onion rings are also must-tries. Their washroom is clean and there's free Wi-fi too.



Exhausted, sleepy and full, most of us slept soundly on the way back. We caught a little snafu at the Zamba terminal, because the cashier gave us tickets to a bus that's already full so we had to get off it while it was already pulling away from the lot. Fortunately we were able to snag seats on the next trip and were home hours later.

This little piggy's so tiiiiiiired.


As simple and fast as the trip was, or how koboy or skwating we seemed during our time there, this was to date, one of my most memorable, fun and relaxing beach sojourns ever. There weren't any posh hotel rooms, no alcohol-induced high, no fancy buffet or drinks or amenities. No crowded bars or loud blaring music. Just good food and conversation enjoyed with great friends, and Mother Nature just doing her thang. Solb!

When's the next one?

P.S. Here's proof that while we all enjoyed the trip, someone just enjoyed it waaaay too much. Ayiiiiii!


Aclo carrying Riz from the boat to the shore.

CamSur na Sure Mauulit Ito!

Written September 1, 2012.

During a session with our manager a couple of weeks before, he asked each one of the performance coach’s pool member what is it that we want to do if we were not in our current job post. More than half answered, to travel. I myself replied to travel and write. That's the dream.

Now, while I was going through my laptop’s picture files in a valiant attempt to free up space (I just find it hard to delete even random photos), I saw a lot of pics from my previous trips: to beaches, out of town sojourn with family and friends, anything that involves bodies of water and food trips and team-buildings and sunbathing and (not-so-long-ago) inebriated nights that I only vaguely remember.

So while I’m whiling away time until the next trip, I want to relive some of the of these trips, what I remember, saw and felt during these happy, tiring, exciting and memorable times. Cue sappy music.

I’ll start with my most recent trip to Camarines Sur, July 20-22, 2012.

Jown, one of our managers, organized a trip for her team, since she snagged some promo fares online. She invited me to come along, so I booked a flight the next day, although the ones they got were sold out so I got a later flight home. I also wanted to surprise someone from her team so I connived with them to keep it a secret for three months (the trip was July and we booked late in April).  Whew!



We left Alabang around 10 PM. We were riding a bus going there via Penafrancia Lines, which had lazy-boy-like seats and its own toilet. It was very spacious, the lights were low and conducive for slumber, and was very cold, well worth the PHP 900 fare, rather than what would have been a butt-numbing ten-hour trip had we ridden a regular bus. The bus seats less than 30 so we were left with a lot of leg room.



After the initial kodakan moments, we settled in to sleep for the night. I was not able to sleep well, probably due to excitement, and also because I wanted to pee but the thought of the tiny cramped toilet scared me. I finally gave in and chose the right time to pee: while the bus was winding a particularly zigzagey road. I thought the door would pop open mid-stream in front of all the other passengers! We had two stopovers, one in McDo (somewhere in Batangas I guess?) and farther down south, a small rest area. At around 4 AM or so, though, the infant seated behind us started crying and wouldn’t stop completely until we reached Naga.

We arrived in Naga at around 7 and proceeded to a hole-in-the-wall eatery, Kinalas Twin, that served well, kinalas. By Jown’s recommendation (who is incidentally, a Bicolana), we ordered their specialty, which is like Bicol’s answer to Batangas goto or Iloilo’s la paz batchoy. They looked kinda like lomi, fat noodles with garlic and onion and pork liver and egg and I don't know what else, eaten with a side of puto and of course, endless supply of siling labuyo. A huge bowl costs only PHP 36 and the puto was less than ten bucks. Solb!



Next we rode the Camsur Watersports Complex (CWC) shuttle and got there way before check in time. Good thing they let us in early without an extra charge. The complex was expansive, and there were bigger, more expensive cottages in kubo style, condo-like rooms and larger villas. But if you’re on a budget, the trailer’s good enough: it’s fully air-conditioned as well, the beds were nice and comfortable and there were towels, toiletries, cable-ready TV and hot/cold water.

We rented two trailers, a two- and a four-person which cost PHP 1200 and PHP 2850, respectively (although we were 13 all in all haha!) The girls’ took the bigger one, which had a kitchen, microwave and what I call a sexy shower.



CWC is a water sports park that offers wakeboarding, wakeskating, waterskiing  and other activities. It's a popular haunt for amateur riders and professional wakeboarders in and out of the country. There are also restaurants, shops, spas and sand bars to entice visitors with other interests. It's a mere 20-minute drive from Naga Airport and offers a shuttle service too.

Our group decided to save the wakeboarding for the next day and just spent time at the inflatable playground in the middle of the lake. We paid PHP 200 each for four hours. We donned life vests and spent hours (cut only by a quick lunch in the complex’s resto) swimming, climbing the iceberg, kayaking and jumping up and down the trampoline. And of course, pictures galore!



Afterwards, we stopped first at a couple of souvenir shops then took a bus to Our Lady of Penafrancia Basilica, where the others toured the old church and lighted candles outside. Dinner and grocery shopping was next and we went to nearby SM Naga. I was feeling sleepy so I had a huge cup of kapeng barako from one of those bibingka stalls. We bought chicha and drinks and breakfast stuff at the supermarket, then had dinner at Molino Grill. We feasted on local fares such as sisig, laing and bicol express. I had chop suey with a bicol express twist. Thankfully, not everything is ear-smoking hot, since I have a low tolerance for anything spicy. We bought pasalubong there too: shirts, key chains and pili nut products. Bonding, chikahan, drinks and chicha followed in our trailer then lights out at 12… just because RA decided to end the session by spilling her glassful of mai tai on the floor!



The sunny weather the entire day belied the heavy rains that greeted us when we woke up Sunday morning. Jown told us the morning flights were cancelled, and ours were scheduled at 1:30 (mine) and 4:30 (theirs). We were a bit apprehensive, since also most of them were first-time flyers. Still we braved the heavy downpour because we can’t leave CamSur without trying wakeboarding right? Unfortunately, the beginner’s area was closed, so we went to the pro area and opted to just try knee-boarding. Hourly rental was PHP 165 which included the helmet, vest and board. There was a PHP 500 deposit which you can refund after the stuff was returned. The rental also included an hour of pool usage.



It was a lot harder (and more painful) than it looks, since the cable pulling us was really strong and the prospect of not turning in time and hitting the ramps was daunting. After a few rides (where I wiped out in the middle of the course and I had to carry the heavy board all the way around the lake) and swallowing about two gallons of murky lake water, I gave up trying to complete the course and just jumped into the pool for some underwater pics. Kudos to the others (RA! Jovan! Who else?) who finished!

Afterwards, we hurried through baths and packing up to catch the shuttle to the airport. We had spaghetti and chicken delivered for lunch from Bigg’s Diner (PHP 165) and it tasted homemade! True enough my flight was delayed, so I was able to wait for them at NAIA 3 since I was the only one with checked in baggage, carrying all their bottles of perfume and lotion and folding umbrellas. Some celeb-spotting and fan-photo op with former Senator Miguel Zubiri (who is either really nice or it’s just nearing election time?) and Yael from Spongecola (who is either a snob or just really tired to even muster up a smile).



It was technically just a two-day, two-night trip, but even though the activities were tiring, weather was bad and flights were delayed and all, we still had so much fun! It was my first time for a lot of things: surprising someone on a trip, going to Bicol, traveling on a lazy-boy bus seat and then alone on a flight back, knee-boarding, and jumping off a really high inflatable ice berg! And more important than the actual place I visited, it’s also the company that made it even more fun. Thanks to Team Autobots for making me feel welcome! Sa uulitin! =)

My Temperament Quiz Result

Written April 5, 2012.

A friend's church mate asked me what personality I was, and at first I didn't get exactly what she was referring to. "I'm choleric kasi," she said. And my friend said he was a sanguine. Huh? Nakakain ba yun? So out of curiosity, I googled it and took an online test too.

But the two gave me a more comprehensive temperament assessment, and after completing it on the bus ride home last night (to the amusement of the guys beside me, who kept on peering at my papers while I was tallying my scores), it turned out I am phlegmatic-sanguine. (The online quiz gave me sanguine-melancholic).

Just a briefer of the four temperaments. It's a theory that take its roots from the ancient medical concept of humorism ("four humors" in Greco-Roman medicine). The premise is that our personalities are affected by four bodily fluids (or "humors," which are blood, yellow bile, black bile and phlegm. Wikipedia describes the temperaments as: sanguine (pleasure-seeking and sociable), choleric (ambitious and leader-like), melancholic (introverted and thoughtful), and phlegmatic (relaxed and quiet). Hippocrates, the Greek physician, used this theory in his own works as well.

 Most people are a mix of two or more temperaments, but one usually dominates over the others. I looked up phleg-san and found this (from catholicmatch.com, emphasis mine):

The Phlegmatic / Sanguine (Phleg-San) If you are a phlegmatic-sanguine, your phlegmatic side will dominate. This will result in a greater tendency to introversion (though still less than a melancholics or pure phlegmatics). You are congenial and cooperative and get along well with most everyone. Because of your emphasis on harmony in relationships, you are peace-loving, conservative, well-balanced, easy-going, with a dry wit and a talent for bringing people together. 

As an employee, you are compliant, dutiful, orderly, and subdued (and probably were as a child too). Others may not realize that you have a sanguine side -- at first. It may take a little longer for you to make close friends (because you do not reveal your feelings or thoughts as readily as the more extroverted sanguine-phlegmatic), but once you do, your sanguine nature can assert itself. It will also show up when, for example, you have been so dutiful and compliant about work or school that finally you need to relax and unwind and now the sanguine, fun-loving side comes out. Or, when you are hanging out with your closest friends.

You are very thoughtful of others, with a knack for empathically putting yourself in other peoples shoes, and value peace and harmony at all times. You also have a great sense of humor and an easy-going manner that makes you a valued friend. You are discouraged by criticism or negativity and need acceptance, support and cooperation in your personal life. You can be deeply wounded by sarcasm, harsh criticism, and anger when it is directed at you. You will not, however, directly fight back but prefer to turn the other cheek or redouble your efforts to please.

Phlegmatic-sanguines tend to prefer movies, concerts, or other forms of relaxation that are a bit more spectator-oriented. When they attend parties, they tend to prefer smaller groups, rather than the large social gatherings a pure sanguine enjoys. Like sanguine-phlegmatics, they are very attentive to relationships, to harmony among people. They have deep feelings, hate negative criticism, and become discouraged by negativity in those around them. They are strongly tempted to repress their own wishes in order to preserve peace in a relationship. A stressful situation (especially one that is interpersonally demanding) may cause the peaceful phlegmatic-sanguine to withdraw into solitary television watching, playing computer games, eating or sleeping, instead of directly expressing their negative feelings.

A danger for the phlegmatic-sanguine is to be satisfied with achieving less than what he is capable of -- whether because he tends not to plan for the future or because the more challenging goals seem to be too much trouble. A phlegmatic-sanguine will be strongly tempted to quit if he doesn't think the end product is worth the effort or if he fears he won't succeed. Perhaps the most besetting difficulties for this temperament mixture are the natural inclination to peace and quiet (tempting one to laziness), a preference to live within the moment (superficiality), and a tendency to make decisions based first on the desire to please someone else or to restore harmony.

In a relationship, the phlegmatic-sanguine is true-blue. He is likely to be a great listener, is willing to put others first, and has excellent mediator skills. You are a supportive friend and a cooperative employee; however, this can cause you to say yes to demands of friends or colleagues, without first analyzing whether this choice is actually the best choice to make. At times, wanting to either please your good friends or avoid conflict either at home or at work, you may go with the flow when in fact a strong stance is necessary. Or, you may avoid a more demanding task or career move in order to maintain harmony and stability. If you find yourself stuck in a rut or avoiding making the extra effort required to make an important change, take time out to analyze your goals for the future, realign your priorities to reflect your values and, if necessary, seek spiritual direction to ensure that your values are aligned with God's will for you.

Find out what's yours. Try this link or you can find other online.

http://www.keirsey.com/sorter/register.aspx

Kitikitext: Sentiments of an Irate Texter

Written June 1, 2012. Yeah, that day was not a great day to send me an SMS... :)


Mga bagay-bagay na tinetext natin/satin na di natin alam (or malimit alam natin pero kebs!) e nakasusuya sa kapwa (at guilty rin ako dati sa ilan dito, especially #1):


1. Chain texts. Yung mga may send this to 48 friends within a certain number of minutes and you will receive a blessing/gift/miracle at pag hindi ay may karampatang sumpang ipapataw sayo. Kelan pa naging barometer ng kapalaran ang mga walang makatext na taong sabik gamitin ang unlitext service nila? (Eeeek, mag-eexpire na ang 20 pesos ko, wala man lang ako nakatikitext sa loob ng bente kuwatro oras! Sayang! Kelangan gamitiiiiin!!!) Oftentimes, ginagamit pa pangalan ni God at mga santo't santa para may holiness factor ang mirakulong ibebestow sayo.


2. "Pa-share a load naman." Unless super emergency, close tayo at talagang ikaw ay nagbabayad (or katabi kita at kaliwaan ang load payment), kalimitan ako ay napapa-huh dito. Mukha ba kong loading station? Ang plan ko nga ay unlimited surfing e, hindi load wallet. At diba, mahihiya ka pa na maghabol para singilin ang dos pesos na pinasaload sayo?


3. "MiZ q Nah Qeouh!" Natilas ba yung dila mo kaya pilipit ka magsalita, ergo, it also transalates to how you text? Hindi ko alam if nagtitipid ka sa characters dahil hindi ka unli, but since may mga extra letters, nalulungkot ka ba pag hindi nagagamit lahat ng letra ng alpabeto sa mga messages mo?


4. Offers for cash loan/pre-approved credit/insurance claim with free gift (na redundant naman. Gift nga e. May gift bang may bayad?), etc. Spam spam spam!


5. "You have won 100 million pesoses through an electronic raffle using cell phone numbers! Just send 10k to claim." WEH?!? Nanalo ka na nga tapos may down payment pa? Minsan, nanghihingi pa ng load. Nagpapapremyo kayo ng milyones, pang-load wala kayo?! Tapos galing lang sa cellphone number? Kalimitan may pa-DTI-DTI seal of authenticity pa ang mga scammers.


6. Mga wrong-send messages kuno na naghahanap lang ng katext, kasi pag nireplyan mong, Who is this, ayan na, sisimulan ka na chikahin. At ang ending.... teh, pa-share a load naman! Boog.


7. Random obscene messages."Malaki ba toot mo?" "Gusto mo SOP?" "so-and-So has a sex scandal video, view on chenes website!" Uunlad ba ang pamumuhay ko at aahon ba sa kahirapan ang Pilipinas kuing sagutin ko mga tanong na ito? Ako sagutin mo: PERV ka ba?!

# 28. "Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you." (James 4:8)

Written February 26, 2012. This is actually part of a longer piece, "29 Before 30" a kind of bucket list I started earlier this year and will post once completed (if I ever get around to doing everything in it!), hence the title.


I attended a service at an office mate's church, frankly, at first, out of curiosity. I was piqued at this person's positivity and utmost trust and faith in the Lord. I mean, I know God; I'm not an atheist, but I never thought I would see and know Him in a different way that day. It was the first time I would visit a church other than a Catholic one. We've never been an overly religious family, so I guess I grew up thinking that while I am aware that God exists and Jesus Christ is His Son, I have always regarded them as just Someone I see or hear about on Sundays. I went to church because it was expected, or only because I had something to pray for or needed or because an occasion calls for it. I guess I've never had what you call a personal relationship with the Lord.

When I came in the worship tent, I noticed just a simple cross below SBCC's emblem and an open Bible. There was a bandstand on the right and an OVH projector screen on the left. When the service started, I was taken aback by the loud and fast music and everyone was heartily clapping and raising their hands; some were almost dancing. The song leader was belting out the song like those gospel singers I see in movies, eyes closed and hand raised in worship. Concert ba to? I was used to the solemn songs and apathetic singing of parishioners.

Then the Pastor came on stage to speak. He was dressed casually, spoke candidly and kept the audience enraptured with the Word, emphasizing his points with "Amen?" and the crowd would enthusiastically answer back. One of the verse that day was from Hebrews 10:19-22:

"Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water." 

I don't need any "middle man" or good deeds or false idols to get me to heaven; it is only through complete faith in Jesus and what He had done on the cross, that I can have "direct access" to God our Father.

Today, I came expecting to be a mere spectator. The first few questions I answered were guarded: I felt as if I was being quizzed on being a good or bad believer. But then their sincerity and genuine concern to connect with me and help me understand pricked something in me. I didn't realize that by keeping an open mind to the faith of others, it would open doors I thought I had already closed or would never dare enter again. Or that if I went even with a hardened heart, Jesus would find a way to touch and open it. And He did. He just spoke to me that day. It all starts with the first and best step.

New Year Musings

Written December 31, 2011.

Next to birthdays, New Year is the most popular season that forces people to look back to the year that was and evaluate what they have or haven’t done in their life. No matter how often we declare we don’t make yearly resolutions, fact is most of us still have this little mental list of what we wanted to achieve during the previous year. Of course, a lot of us do realize we have also a lot of blessings to be thankful for. But still, come the 31st of December, we realize with a jolt how fast time flew and wished we had more time (and courage) to do all those stuff we promised ourselves we would – lose weight, travel more, see friends, get promoted, fall in love or move on.

A lot of us wishes for a clean slate for the new year, as if resetting our lives to zero would make all the bad stuff, heartaches or mistakes of the past year disappear, or at less painful.

I wouldn’t. I say bring in 2012 with all my excess baggage and constant reminders of my 2011 booboos in tow, that way with my trunk full of last year’s crap, I won’t have much space to collect any more this year.

Shit happens, and it’s how we get back up and move on from these that matters. God doesn’t give us anything He knows we can’t handle, even if the reason or lesson won’t occur to us right away.

So instead of wallowing in self-pity over things that had gone awry in my life, or berating myself for not doing this or that, I’ll just focus on the stuff – even the tiniest ones – that made 2011 a great year for me.

I am thankful to be part of a team at work who values me as more than just a colleague, who respects and looks up to me, and that each and every one of them – my boss included – is a unique character that enables me to wake up at the crack of dawn and endure the long commute to work every day. You guys – and the rest of the process - renewed my faith in myself in this job. I owe my PC movement to you.

I am grateful that even though our family was beset by serious health issues –my sister-in-law had a very delicate pregnancy, my sister had her own condition – all these made us stronger and closer and also to realize even more how important family is. Ate Joy is doing well, and we got a gorgeous new addition to the family, Braeden Timothy.

I am thankful that I have come to respect myself more. I valued living in the “now” instead of being stuck in the past, and have more willpower now and not settle for the first guy who fell into my lap just because I was afraid to be alone. 2011 was my me-year, and I don’t have a problem with 2012 being just like the last, only better.

I’m glad for a little bit more time spent with my different groups of friends. Although our get-togethers may be far and few between, we made the most out of each meetings. To my evil twin Chrys, and my beterana trinity-mates, Jaki ad Wanay, you bring out the kire in me! To my HS boylets, Comartsoc, AF friendsheeps, Homeboyz - more more fun next year ha?

I loved how I met and found new friends, who I never realized I could get along with. While some of their views and characteristics are opposite to mine, their infectious optimism was a breath of fresh air. I'm glad they gave me a chance to be more open-minded about other people, and more welcoming of change.

I feel blessed to have a daughter who achieved so much in the past year, who grew up a lot that it makes me so proud yet scares the hell out of me at the same time. She was my constant date, my motivation, my little “kunsyensya” who kept me in check. At times she reminds me of how old I am (haha!) but often she keeps me young with her child-like wonder and vivacious outlook towards life. Ging, baby, don't grow up so fast, ha?

This year left me with a couple of  bangin’ surprises in its last few days and that just raised the bar for 2012.

Screw those tarot card predictions. 2012 will be my kick-ass year!

Sorry

When I was younger, saying "I"m sorry" meant just a couple of simple things: that you didn't mean to do it, and that you'll never do it again. You accidentally kicked another kid's sand castle or forgot to return your seatmate's crayon, but after a talk (with mom or teacher present) and these two little words will be enough to stop the tears and make the booboos go away.

Now that I'm older, I realize that merely saying these words are not often enough. How easy is it to pay lip service. We throw these words thoughtlessly, without much regard that some people do take them seriously.

We say sorry even though we meant to hurt them. We say sorry again and again, knowing we’ll hurt them repeatedly, but confident in the fact that they’ll forgive us in the end. We use “sorry” as some sort of a Band Aid to our wrongdoings: stops the bleeding and covers up the wound, but never quite healing it or removing the scar.

I myself don’t get how just saying sorry makes everything okay again. I guess I’m not one of those forgive and forget types. Which is mighty hypocritical because I’ve done a whole lot of worse things than the person next to me, and how I’ve often resorted to saying sorry to make things right. Sorry, I got knocked up too soon. Sorry, I dated your ex. Sorry, I flaked on our dinner date. Sorry, I failed my monthly scorecard yet again.

We hold on to the anger, all the bitter memories for so long just waiting for these two words to come. Is it worth the wait just to hear these words from that person who screwed us over?

Quotes and random thoughts

I know they are just a pool of really talented writers and a cast of gorgeous, talented actors. But hey, I'm a sucker for tears and quotable quotes. Go Grey's Anatomy! Yey.

Why celibacy can rock: Intimacy is a four syllable word for "Here is my heart and soul, please grind them into hamburger, and enjoy." It's both desired, and feared. Difficult to live with, and impossible to live without.

Well, yeah, you can forgive and forget. But then, not always. People have scars. In all sorts of unexpected places. Like secret road maps of their personal histories. Diagrams of all their old wounds. Most of our wounds heal, leaving nothing behind but a scar. But some of them don't. Some wounds we carry with us everywhere and though the cut's long gone, the pain still lingers.

After a long week acting all grown up busy at work, budgeting bills and whatnot, there are some weekends you just want to kick back and do crazy stuff like you're sixteen again. There comes a point in your life when you're officially an adult. Suddenly, you're old enough to vote, drink, and engage in other adult activities. Suddenly, people expect you to be responsible, serious... a grown up. We get taller, we get older. But do we ever really grow up?

Six years in the company and you wonder why you haven't reached that top yet. Maybe because you stopped trying. Time to get out of the comfort zone. That career workshop speaker yesterday was really witty and inspiring. I wanna kick ass and look gorgeous like her. They take pictures of mountain climbers at the top of a mountain. They’re smiling, ecstatic, triumphant. They don’t take pictures along the way cos who wants to remember the rest of it. We push ourselves because we have to, not because we like it. The relentless climb, the pain and anguish of taking it to the next level. Nobody takes pictures of that. Nobody wants to remember. We just wanna remember the view from the top. The breathtaking moment at the edge of the world. That’s what keeps us climbing. And it’s worth the pain. That’s the crazy part. It’s worth anything.

Remember how we always want the good things to stay the same, forever? Yeah, right. Every cell in the human body regenerates on average every seven years. Like snakes, in our own way we shed our skin. Biologically we are brand new people. We may look the same, we probably do, the change isn't visible at least in most of us, but we are all changed completely forever. When we say things like "people don't change" it drives scientist crazy because change is literally the only constant in all of science. Energy. Matter. It's always changing, morphing, merging, growing, dying. It's the way people try not to change that's unnatural. The way we cling to what things were instead of letting things be what they are. The way we cling to old memories instead of forming new ones. The way we insist on believing despite every scientific indication that anything in this lifetime is permanent. Change is constant. How we experience change that's up to us. It can feel like death or it can feel like a second chance at life. If we open our fingers, loosen our grips, go with it, it can feel like pure adrenaline. Like at any moment we can have another chance at life. Like at any moment, we can be born all over again.

Love, lust, desire, loneliness, insecurity, even just mere attraction. They can turn any rational, normal person into a complete basket case. Nobody chooses to be a freak. Most people don't even realize they're a freak until it's way too late to change it. But no matter how much of a freak we end up being, chances are there's still someone out there for you. Unless they've already moved on, because when it comes to love even freaks can't wait forever.

My Annual Self-Improvement BS

If there’s one thing I hate about New Year (and turning older a few days later) is that feeling of having to look back at the year that was. Yeah, the good times make me smile and crave for more, but the bad ones? They kind of play in slow motion, one cringe-worthy scene after another, just like in the previous years. Same old same old. And every time, like millions of people around the world, I make up this personal list – resolutions, goals, whatever you call them – of things I’ll change, stuff I’ll do, anything to make a brand-spanking-new me.

Then it occurred to me that most of the things I keep trying to promise I’ll do are basically the same ones I’ve been encountering, every single year. I always swear never to make the same mistakes again, yet the holidays’ leftovers have barely cooled off in the fridge, and there I go again, pulling the same crazy shit of the past.

That’s when I realized that maybe I shouldn’t vow to change whenever my birthday comes along. Maybe the reason why these things keep coming up on my to-change list annually is because I can’t change them. Maybe –good or bad, or oftentimes worse – these things are what define me, what makes me, me.

When turned twenty-six, I made a list of 26 things I learned in the previous year at my now defunct Multiply blog. I came across it again and found out some of the things I wrote there weren’t entirely true; I never got over them. But one thing struck me and still holds true to this day: “Maturity doesn’t come with ageing; it comes with experience.” And should you think I’m referring to me being mature, don’t. Hah! Far from it.

So this year, I decided I won’t change, but rather, improve. I can’t become another person entirely, but I can definitely strive to be a better me, yeah? Maybe you can’t teach old dogs new tricks, but you can still wake up that lazy sleeping canine. Ay, where’d that doggie cliché pop out from?

This year, I promise not to promise anything I’ll eventually break (so I guess that includes this promise? Nyaha.)

I can’t be the friend who’ll always be there for you, the kind who’ll drop everything the minute you call with a problem, but I promise that when I do manage to be at your side when your life sucks, I’ll make it worthwhile. I’ll be the best friend you’ll ever have at that particular moment. Because probably it’ll be weeks or months before you can count on me again. And during gimiks and get-togethers, I promise to pay more attention to you and the conversation instead of how many pictures I’ll upload later to Facebook… but only after a couple more group shots, okay? Say cheese!

I can’t promise to be nicer, because I’ll always be a moddy biatch, but I can try not to be any meaner than I already am.

I won’t be able to completely banish pango-okray from my system, but this year maybe I’ll be more subtle and try not to make fun of everyone… that often…in public. Maybe only when I’m in a bad mood. Or when drunk. Which is kinda most of the time.

I will not be able to be less antukin; I will always hoard my sleep, whether I’m in a night or day shift. Sleep is a basic necessity for me, second only to air. If I want to sleep, even if I’m in the middle of a party or drinking sesh, I will have my snooze, goddammit! But maybe I’ll compromise and not sleep in front of my kainumans, or at least ask for permission, instead of just sneaking off in the guise of going to the restroom.

I can actually be more pleasant and less bitchy if only people would not talk to me on my toxic periods: when I just woke up, after a long travel or just got back from work, when I haven’t taken a bath yet, when I’m reading or on a dvd marathon, and when I haven’t had my pre-shift cup of joe and daily dose of Hollywood gossip, among many others. So I guess it’s more of you guys being more perceptive to my moods, alright?

I can’t promise not to fall for the next friendly guy whose idea of getting to know me is through unli-text and illicit workplace IM's. I’ve always been a sucker for that friends-before-lovers crap, and I always end up being either the great reboundee (them being the rebounder?) or the dependable go-to b****. So to avoid future slip ups, I will make a Herculean effort to stay away from them, and instead give strangers a chance, because at the rate I’m going, I’ll end up losing all my guy pals in the end.

I can't promise not to try yet another "pampagan" vitamins in the hopes of gaining weight and growing a bumper and a rack. I might still try from time to time. I can't change my metabolism and genes, and years later, when my contemporaries are struggling to fight middle-age obesity, I'll probably thank the heavens for it. Voluptuous and curvy I'm not. I'm a skinny-assed b**** and I'm proud of it.

I’ve sworn off alcohol on a daily, weekly and annual basis, and have never had much success. What can I say, I love a good drink. Even a bad drink. So perhaps I just love to drink. Although most of the worst beat-myself-up-the-morning-after decisions I had were hatched while I was inebriated, some of the best conversations and friendships I had were made and forged under the influence of alcohol, so I say gimme my next shot! Just maybe this time I’ll try not to get too intoxicated in public, avoid drunk-dialing like the plague, and shut the hell up whenever tipsy, because that’s when my mouth (and my flimsy judgment) gets me in trouble.

Anyhoo… Happy New Year and Happy Birthday to ME! Let’s kick ass, 2011! Two more years before the big 3-0!

Temporary stupidity may actually make you smarter in the long run...

My laptop's memory is almost full, so I decided to skim some files to delete. I took a break from reading "Strategies For Teaching" because frankly, after a long steady diet of magazines and trashy novels, reading something so, er, school-y again was giving me a mild headache.

I found some old blogs circa 2007-08. I don't remember if I published them in my previous Multiply or FB sites. But one stood out because I laughed when I read it. More than two years later and I still got the same sentiments. Haha.

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May 7, 2008, Wednesday, 8:06 AM

It’s hard and it sucks: choosing between doing the right thing and doing what you want. Isn’t it frustrating that more often than not, the right thing is the hardest thing to do, and what we want is usually illicit, forbidden or just plain stupid and wrong.

When faced with a confused and distraught friend facing such a dilemma, I try to refrain from giving a concrete advice or a definite answer. I would let her rant, rave and wear herself out talking and crying. Then I would tell her, follow your instincts. I know, I know, it’s cliché and a play-safe answer and probably not what she wants to hear, but really, it is the only way.

When we are mere spectators and are not involved in the crisis, it’s easy to fall into the trap of seeing things in black and white. But come on, if we’re the ones in that person’s shoes, when emotions come to play, we can’t think logically. Things aren’t as simple as right versus wrong. Everything’s gray… or red, or pink or whatever, depending on the mood. I mean if things were that simple, then I don’t think that person would’ve come to me for advice.

What makes it harder is when people like friends and family, who are understandably just concerned about us, are pushing us to do the right thing. We clash when we insist on following our desire, running the risk of looking like fools, of getting hurt, and crawling back to them and enduring their I-told-you-so’s.

But as I’ve said, my sole advice is to follow your guts. Take their well-meaning words with a grain of salt, but do what your heart’s telling you. OK, that sounded straight out of a Hallmark card, but hey, it’s true. If you end of falling smack in your face, well at least no one can accuse you of being someone else’s sissy puppet. You won’t have to live asking yourself, what if, wondering what might have been if you followed your own.

I believe in learning from your own mistakes; pain is an effective teacher. Don’t we always remember the mistakes that hurt the most and the lessons that came from them? Isn’t it that when we were kids, our parents would tell us, don’t run, you might fall and hurt yourself, and we won’t listen? Then we go home with red scrapes across our knees, bawling because it hurts like hell, and you can bet we won’t be running around for a while.

Don’t be scared of looking stupid; people all make stupid mistakes everyday. It’s not really the error you commit, but how you turn them to your advantage. It’s like stumbling in front of a huge crowd, and instead of crying right in the middle, you stand up, brush of the dirt and flip the goddamn hair. Taray lang, dabaz? Everybody falls at some point in their lives, but not everyone gets up with such remarkable grace and chutzpah.

Now this doesn’t mean you turn into an impulsive ass. If it’s worth it, then hell yeah, fight for it. Otherwise, know when and how to let go. Remember it’s your life, and it’s gonna be you, not your best friend or your sister or any snotty self-righteous bitch, who’s going to sit in front of your grandchildren telling them how grandmama had the balls to go for what she really wants.

As my favorite quote from Kiko Miranda goes, “Make mistakes, make many mistakes…. but never make the same mistake twice.”

I'm talking in circles. Somebody give me the next shot.

Joggin'

I don't jog to get to lose weight, and I say this without any trace of smugness. If there actually was a way jogging would make my butt and chest bigger, I'd do it every single day!

Team sports bore me (so much for being a team player!). Ever since I got hit on the face by a basketball while watching a pickup game when I was in fifth or sixth grade, I have a strong aversion towards ballspleasewipethatdirtythoughtoffyourmind! But really, even tennis balls scare the shit out of me.

I was a cheerleader in high school because I liked prancing around in short skirts better than jostling with other smelly players for a jump ball or a spike. If I were to get all sweaty might as well do it with pompoms and ribbons and look all good and girly, right?

I jog because I like the alone time, just me and whoever's on shuffle mode in my iPod (right now it's Britney Spears, the Glee cast, Mario and Paramore). I don't even like jogging with someone, lest I might be expected to make small talk and God knows how much I despise that, especially when every breath should be conserved for the running.

I don't just jog anywhere. It has to be around campus, most often around Baker and the Freedom Park. My ideal time would actually be early morning, best when it just rained the previous night. But since I hoard waking up late in the morning (since I'm always up at the crack of dawn, or I just got into bed before dawn after a night of partying), I settle for late afternoon, around 5 pm. It also allows me to people watch, as the place is usually crammed with families on picnics, couples canoodling on the grass, and other sports fanatics. On a good day I'd spot another runner with really great ass. Ah, motivation. Sometimes I'd take Ging to play or run, but right now she prefers to stay at the computer shop or read her pocketbooks than tag along with old foggy Mom. Pre-teens, hay.

I run when I'm really happy or really down, but curiously not when I'm bored. If I'm bored I'd rather sleep or watch dvd's. When I'm happy, the endorphins make me extra high, like I feel I could do anything. When I'm sad or angry, running's a great stress reliever and the solitude is a fine opportunity to mull over stupid mistakes and plan my enemy's demise, nyaha. It's good detox as well after a night of excessive drinking, whoo.

And for some weird reason, my running shoes should be pink, or else I don't get inspired at all.

Britney, one more time

Imagine how pissed I was last Wednesday when I rushed to get home so I can watch the Britney Spears Glee episode only to find out our cable was disconnected just that afternoon. Apparently, I left two months worth of cable bill in my jewelry box and found it there the following morning. Red alerts of aging, anyone?

In preparation, Britney was on repeat mode in my iPod on my ride home, so I really wanted to burn down the CCV office right then and there. Luckily, I was able to watch it online today and loved it so much. Thank you Brit for saving me from being an arsonist.

Most teenage girls during the latter half of the 90's to the early 2000's can relate to Britney Spears. She was probably the Lady Gaga of our angst-ridden, love-sick growing up years. Although most dismissed her saccharine sweet but sexually-laced music as silly bubblegum pop, nobody can deny that when you hear the words "Hit me baby" or "Ooops I did it again," it's gonna stick to you for the rest of the day. Up to this day, I never fail to sing one Britney song during videoke sessions or resist dancing whenever her tunes come up in the DJ's playlist.

My first real exposure to Britney was when we bought our first desktop computer. There was a preloaded concert video of Britney back in 2000 in Hawaii. I remember watching it over and over again, and although I wasn't that impressed with her voice, I coveted her abs and dancing prowess the moment she popped on stage in shimmering skin-tight pants and cropped top and started gyrating to her highly addictive songs. Here's an innocent looking gril who sang openly about love and sex and boys while looking so damn fine. We all wanted to be her.

Years later, growing up in the limelight while earning ridiculous amount of money finally caught up with Britney and everyone started dismissing her as another crazy, mixed up Hollywood kid. Some already considered her a has-been. And while I smirked every time I would see a picture of her without underwear or read a news bit of yet another DUI incident or rehab entry, I also felt sad for someone who was such an idolized star before.

She's not a role model for the faint-hearted, but she's definitely someone a troubled person yearning for a redemption story, can look up to. She's had many boo-boos - that awkward VMA number, underwear allergy phase, custody battles and that icky K-Fed thing - but she always came back up, well, "Stronger than yesterday..."

I may not want to be her now, making mistakes in front of the whole world. I don't want to make her blunders or go through her humiliation. But I can say I want a little Britney Spears in me, some bit of that courage, that tiny piece of can't-bring-me-down 'tude, a pinch of determination and a smudge of hot momma-ness.

So, yay for Glee, and yay for Britney!

Where's your pride, girl?

It's a misguided sense of pride. It's not love anymore. You can't accept the fact that he left you for a girl who's already attached - his friend's girl for crying out loud! - while you rode yourself to the ground trying to give him everything he can possibly want. Maybe he didn't make himself clear enough - he wanted a girlfriend, not a doormat.

Your pride will not her win. You hold on to him not because you're obsessed or still madly in love. He's not enough that good-looking, he treated you like crap and his bedroom skills leave much to be desired. You find it unfair that while she has a loyal boyfriend who turns a blind eye towards her indiscretions and a boy toy to romp the sheets with any time she itches, you're all alone, pining after a love long lost and the deafening ticking of your biological clock resonating loudly inside your empty body.

But you're like a dog who won't let go of a bone because you have this crazy notion that in the end, he will still pick you. That you will win... eventually.

So for now, it's okay for you to look stupid and crazy and pathetic. Your eye is on that one victorious day that you will regain your rightful place inside his boxers. So focused are you that everybody -including the two of them probably - has long ago realized that you are blindly fighting for a prize that is so worthless to call it such is so damn funny.

Ganito pala...

*originally written May 15, 2010*

Ngayon alam ko na ang pakiramdam nila, yung mga kaibigan at pamilya ko dati. Noon, inuna ko ang tigas ng ulo. Pinagkamalang pag-ibig ang libog. Pinanindigan ang isang labang wala namang saysay. Pinagpalit ang isang tunay na kaibigan para sa isang batong nagpapanggap na tao. Naggugol ng napakaraming oras, emosyon at pagod para sa... sa... saan nga ba?

Buti, nagising naman ako. Naisip kong hindi ako isang parte lang ng katawan na gagamit-gamitin. Natakot ako na pag lumaki na ang anak ko at magkamalay, isampal nya sa akin ang pagiging mababa at tanga kong babae. Ganito ba ang gusto kong kalabasan niya? Na matapos ko siyang palakihin at alagaan, isang lalaki lang ang gagago at sisira sa kanya? Syempre hindi.

Pinagsabihan nila ako, paulit-ulit hanggang nagsawa na lang sila. Siguro, naisip nila na din na ako yung tipo na kailangan masaktan bago matuto. Kailangang madapa para bumangon. Kailangan gaguhin para makita ang sariling kagagahan.

Ang hirap pala nun. Yung pagmasdan mo ang kaibigan mong harapang sinasaktan, tinatarantado sa maraming tao. Yung alam mong isa syang edukadang babae, kumikita ng sariling pera, may itsura at napalaki ng maayos ng magulang, tapos itatapon lang yun lahat dahil sa takot niyang maging mag-isa.

Hindi lang siya ang lalaki sa mundo, sabi nila dati. Marami pang darating na mas tatrato sayo ng nararapat sayo. Yung papasayahin ka ng hindi mo siya kailangan ibili ng mga materyal na bagay. Yung irerespeto ka kahit ano pa yung nakaraan mo at hindi ito isusumbat sayo mo pag nagtatalo kayo. Yung hahanap-hanapin ka dahil gusto ka niyang lagi kasama, at hindi lang dahil nangangati siya sa kama.

Syempre noon, hindi ko nakita yun. Para sigurong ikaw ngayon. Pero yun nga lang, namulat na din ako. Ikaw kaya, kailan?

Minsan, hindi ko na alam kung -bilang isang tunay na kaibigan - hanggang saan lang ako lulugar sa buhay niya. Tama ba na pagsabihan ko siya? Tama bang bawalan ko siyang makipagkita o makipagkaibigan sa kanya? Panghihimasok na ba yung sabihin ko yung mga hindi magandang bagay na naririnig kong kumakalat tungkol sa kanya, sa kagustuhan kong ipamukha kung anong klase talaga siyang lalaki, para matauhan ang kaibigan ko? O tama lang na hayaan ko siyang pumili, masaktan, at matuto ng kanya lang?

Parang ang sarap nyang hablutin bigla, sigawan at pagalitan. Ang tanga-tanga mo, gusto ko sabihin. Inis na inis na ko kasi hindi ko alam kong nagbubulag-bulagan lang siya o tanga lang talaga.

Siguro, dahil naranasan ko din ang nararanasan nya kaya ayoko nang pagdaanan nya yun. Tama na yung isang beses. Pwede naman magpatawad ng hindi nalilimutan kung ano yung ginawa niya. Walang masama kaibiganin siya basta hindi na siya umaasang may magbabalik sa kanilang dalawa.

Alam mong mahal kita kaya ko sinasabi to.

Sabi nga nila, wag nang ikaw mismo ang humanap ng batong ipupukpok sa ulo mo. Kung gusto mong irespeto ka niya, irespeto mo muna ang sarili mo. Hindi ka makakahanap ng lalaking totoong magmamahal saiyo kung ikaw mismo, hindi mo kayang mahalin ang sarili mo. Kung ganyan ka lang ng ganyan, nagpapa-apak sa mga lalaking katulad nya, ganyan at ganyan din ang mga lalaking dadating sayo. Kahit hindi siya, may iba pang yuyurak sayo hanggat pumapayag ka. Kailan mo sasabihin na tama na? Kailan mo uunahin yung sarili mo?

Wag ka matakot tumanda magisa. Huwag kang magtiyaga sa kanya kasi iniisip mo wala ka ng mahahanap na iba. Natatakot ka kasi na baka hindi ka na magkaasawa, na hindi ka na magkakaanak. Huwag mo ipako ang kinabukasan mo sa isang taong ang isip ay nakatuon lang sa ngayon, sa sarili niya. Dahil kung ipipilit mo ang sarili mo sa ganyang klase ng tao at sitwasyon, habang buhay kang tutungo sa gusto ng ibang tao, at hindi mo mararanasan kung pano paligayan ang sarili mo.

Ngayon sabihin mo kung ako na ang sumosobra kasi titigil na ko.

Fresh Meat

*originally written March 21, 2010*

With all these "going green" trend around, recycling's big right these days. I guess even the dating scene has caught on, with exes getting back together and past flings getting revisited. Friends have been teasing me about our high school batch's 10th year reunion later on this year. "Balikan," they sang. Eww, is what I say. And I don't want to misconstrue an ex's friendliness, despite others' constant ribbing during inuman sessions.

To the guys I've loved and lost...well, don't say you didn't have your chance.

I have learned an important lesson.

The last time I fell for that "One More Chance" crap, I got a little bun in the oven merely four months after. Much as my mom loves her mini-me apo, I'm pretty sure she's not up for another er, "miracle baby." Same goes for recycling other women's junk. Last time I went ukay-ukay mode on another girl's cast off, I lost a really great girl friend and got an emotionally retarded dildo in return. Not exactly a fair trade-off, which sad to say, I rightfully deserved, I guess.

Love is lovelier the second time around? Naku, "been there, been that" hahaha! What a tired, tired cliche! Gone are the days that sentimentality prevented me from completely moving on. Enough with trying to resuscitate an obviously dead relationship or hoping to relive an old flame, just because it seems such a shame to let go of months or years of history together. Thinking how much time I wasted... sigh.

My day at SSS

I had the bright idea to start the day early. Go to the SSS branch in Parian to apply for an ID and be finished before lunch, that way I can get my nails done, start on my Cougartown dvd and perhaps a couple rounds jogging.

Of course, when you're dealing with government offices, things don't always go according to plan. No, that would be too easy. After braving the early Tuesday morning rush from Elbi to Parian -which entails quite a few stop lights that take forever to change and several elementary schools where jeeps and tricycles alike clog the highway - I went inside the office. After filling out the E6 form I hurriedly downloaded online before going here, I was promptly informed by the security guard that SSS has issued a nationwide halt to processing ID's. Wtf? He said I should just wait for announcements on print or TV when the issuing will resume. I laughed. I actually did. I wanted to pull out the huge piece of guava I bought at the jeep terminal and throw it to his smug face.

I asked for the phone number of their particular branch so I may be able to just call in for updates. He told me to ask one of the clerks in front. I approached a man who saw me from the corner of his eye when I tried a couple of times to call him. "Sir? Pwede magtanong?" In typical government employee style, he finally looked up and gave me a bored yet irritated look. I asked where I can apply for an ID and he told me to go to the San Pablo branch.

Great.

So I headed back South and two hours and endless traffic jams later, I was at the SPC office, where an opportunisict tryc driver charged me 30 bucks for the short trip from the church to the branch. I was hot, irate and just want to get this thing over and done with.

Later on, after I had my form stamped, I fell in line for the picture taking. I pulled number 90 from the hook and plunked down a chair. The sour-faced man behind the desk, who was curtly calling out numbers in a gruff voice, was entertaining number 62.

Luveeet. Thank God I had my iPod and a good book with me. I held on to my number tightly, for I noticed the old woman beside me (who was clutching number 113) eyeing my card several times. Mahirap na.


Dozens of pages read and several On-The-Go lists later, Manong Sungit finally called number 88. It was five minutes before 12 noon. The ladies beside me where saying it would close for lunch. True enough, Manong turned off the lights and emerged, giving us all a dirty look, muttering, "Di nga ko nag-break buong umaga eh," and would disappear until a few minutes before one.

I took the time to eat and noticed that Ultimart has gone from the typical provincial clusters of commercial spaces that we used to go to whenever we want to watch movies (no Olivarez or Waltermart yet) or shop. There's a Mango outlet, a Figaro, Mang Inasal and Red Ribbon, among others. Shala!

Thankfully, when I got back, #89 was nowhere to be found and I was processed quickly. I don't know if Manong S is a man of few words or he has a really bad case of halitosis, but he barely uttered words except for when he called my number. He merely signaled for me to sit, look here, press fingerprints and sign. I was about to ask him if the stub would be enough for a loan application, but he swiftly dismissed me by calling out, "Number 91!"

Pak!

My loner tendencies

It’s been almost two years since I last saw my father. The last time was at my brother’s wedding in January 2009. Since it was probably the first time we saw him again after he left for Iloilo in 2004, and everyone was preoccupied with wedding preparations, there wasn’t really time to talk or bond. And everyone was kind of on the edge, waiting for that one moment Papa and Mama would be left “unsupervised” and hence, Word War III would commence!

Lolo Wins, my dad’s father, passed away last week. We all made last minute plans to go to Iloilo, save for my sister Jean and the kids, as they already had the chance to see Lolo alive and say goodbye last May. I haven’t been to Papa’s hometown since 2006 and haven’t met some of our cousins, so I was kinda excited as well, even under the circumstances.

Mama, Kuya Pao, Ate Joy and I were met at the airport by Papa. He made beso to all of us, even my mom, who looked mighty uncomfortable. It was only when we were all making small talk about the flight and I removed my sunglasses that Papa did a double-take at me. He squinted at my face, broke into laughter and lightly slapped my cheeks. He didn’t recognize me! He thought I was Ate’s officemate.

Being back here and listening to all my relatives and friends talk in lilting Ilonggo, I am reminded of how I often wanted to learn how to speak the dialect. Except for Papa, and Kuya who spent his first semester of college here, all of us only know a smattering of Ilonggo, and can only smile vaguely when our cousins and aunts start bantering in rapid Ilonggo. I’ve always been confused because oftentimes they sound like they’re arguing when they’re actually not, and vice versa.

Some people are actually surprised to learn I do have anti-social tendencies. I’m actually shy. Yes, wipe that drink shooting out of your nose and stop laughing; I am shy. I’m uncomfortable when meeting new people. I abhor small talk, which would probably explain why I’ve never been to a blind date or all the guys I’ve dated are either friends or friends of friends. I’m not used to that initial polite getting-to-know-you phase.

Ate Jean is the gregarious one in the bunch. Perhaps this came from teaching preschoolers for years. If she can entertain or make those brats listen to her, she can very well make anyone follow her lead. Papa is also the talkative, chikadora type, the kind who endears himself to others by making off-color jokes or dropping amusing but sometimes useless trivia about everyone. Kuya got a bit of that, I think. Mama is the ultimate queen B, but her work oftentimes make it necessary for her to play nice, although it only takes very little to provoke her and bring out the B in her, haha. Ate Joy is suplada as well, but her bright, pretty face belies this snobby side of her so people still have a tendency to gravitate towards her.

I’m the moody one. I’ll befriend you if I feel like it; if not, I just won’t talk to you. I prefer making friends with people who are already my friends’ friends, because that cuts the awkward small-talk phase in half. I’m only really friendly when drunk, which is probably why half of the people I met while intoxicated, I don’t remember their names, and half, I can’t recall their faces. Nyaha.

Even at work, when I’m quiet, they know me well enough not to attempt a conversation. When I’m up for it, you can hear me cracking jokes or making fun of my teammates from across the room. But don’t expect me to be little miss perky the first two hours of the shift. I will bite your head off.

This might also explain why, while Kuya and Papa are at the poker table laughing and conversing in Ilonggo with my relatives and friends, Ate Joy has commandeered my iTouch and Yes! magazine to herself, Mama is equally engrossed in her own book, and I am in a dark corner of the house, typing away on my laptop and wishing for a free Wifi with a really strong connection. Faack.

The Dreaded Morning After

I'm sure I haven't met someone who hasn't had one of these. Whether it's the pounding hangover from last night's tequila shots, waking up next to a naked, complete stranger or recalling snippets of a spontaneous pole dance number, everything suddenly hits you the moment you open your eyes or the first streak of sun stains the black sky.

Maybe it's the blanketing anonymity nighttime grants you that you feel safe doing things you never thought you could. Or it's the false bravado alcohol gives you that you feel more confident, more outspoken than you normally would. Perhaps it's the careless, immature thinking that it's just for one night only.

Once you've mulled over last night's events, you're usually awash with regret and shame. There's that OMG moment when you slap your forehead, groan and fall back on your bed, wishing you could hide under the covers forever. Because while you are willing to move on, asap, and erase the previous night's events from your memory, you suddenly recall all the people -friends and strangers alike - who have witnessed you regress into a bumbling, idiotic slut, and that they will probably remember this for a very long time.

Take comfort in the thought that this, too, shall pass. Everyone's entitled to commit mistakes, however big and dumb and embarrassing they are. No matter how grown up you think you are, there's still a little child in you who will always yearn to come out and play, not always in places or in the manner you want it to be in.

We always want what we can't have, do things we regret and say stuff we can't take back. Life is indeed funny, and what's even funnier is that half of the time, all that drama are self-made, self-imposed, immature lapses in judgment.

Almost but not quite

It was at that precise moment, about two weeks ago, when you reached out for your phone to send him a message on impulse that it really hit you. You've probably done this a thousand times before, whenever you feel like ranting or sharing a joke or just to have someone to talk to to while the bus you're riding on crawls at a snail's pace.

You're pissed. In fact, what happened irked you so much your initial reaction was to bring out the bitch and close him out and pretend you hadn't known him since you two were drooling on the nursery school playground.

It wasn't so much about how abruptly he dropped it on you. It wasn't the cliche it's-not-you-it's-me crap that he pulled on you through text. It wasn't all about losing that chance of a possibility.

It's because two months ago he could've walked naked in front of you and it wouldn't have mattered. He could've kissed girls in front of you and you would've applauded him for being over his "emo" phase. You could've talked about sex and men and dirty stuff and it wouldn't feel awkward. You could laugh for hours over how you bullied him in grade school or how you cried bitterly to him over you ex years after he dumped you for another girl.

Maybe it's because he's been one of your best friends for so long, and you were absolutely fine with that. Maybe because he rocked the status quo. You're pissed because he was on your side, he was one of the good guys, and you felt that when he turned away, he was hurting you on purpose.

But what really got your goat is because you know ultimately it's your own fault. You rushed things when it could've gone on it's own pace. Here was a guy who loved the hunt more than the kill, and you went ahead and handed him the damn shotgun.

Maybe after making do without anyone by your side for a long time, the idea of having that someone you've known for years with you excited you so much you blew the whole thing out of proportion that it crashed and burned before it can even take off. It wasn't love. It was just a feeling, a sudden feeling and you overreacted, and you almost lost him for good because of that.