Epic Struggle with JBoy

It would have been ....

Even I am amazed that we've come this far. Ours was not really what you would call a case of love at first sight. He was just one of the boys in the station , and then we became buddies, and then best friends. Even when he became my boyfriend I wasn't really thinking about serious stuff like staying together or family or whatever; I was just enjoying the moment. Of course, after we had been together for five years or so, and we had already have a child, then I began dropping subtle hints/blatant threats that he better be serious about me soon or else ...Hahaha. What's that cheesy line in which movie? 'When you find someone whom you know you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to begin as soon as possible'. Something like that.

I usually try to be self-deprecating (that is, if I'm not in my usual bragging, bumubuhat ng sariling bangko mode), but our relationship is something I am truly proud of. It's not perfect (I mean, J Boy could've been a little bit taller so I wouldn't feel off standing beside him in my usual heels or wedges) But for the most part, it has been the epitome of wedded bliss.

Most everybody says so, modesty aside. They ask, what's your secret? And I usually give a flippant answer like, It's the sex. Or something along those lines. But seriously, I think the secret is that we are both so easy to please. It was never really part of our plans to get filthy rich or move up to the highest rung of the corporate ladder or raise super achiever kids. We are both already overjoyed that our kid is healthy and happy and we have food on the table and decent clothes to wear and a home. I guess we both realize how blessed we have been in the things that really matter. Which is why we hardly fight anymore. I mean, to still be fighting it up despite all that we have would be downright ungrateful and tempting fate.

Oh but we do invest in our relationship and find the time to just be with each other. And when there's just no time –  well, we just have to make the time. It doesn't have to be anything grand. A quiet dinner always does the trick, or watching some silly movie. It could be something truly exciting like me bitching about something or someone while he sits there trying to nod in all the right places. Or something as simple as holding hands  going somewhere.

While we essentially have the same values and passions and interests, we are also opposites in many ways. I think this makes our relationship so much more exciting. He is peace-loving, forgiving, and patient – I am admittedly maaway and vindictive and I don't believe that patience should even be considered a virtue. He keeps quiet when he has nothing nice to say about something – I lose sleep until I can give someone a piece of my mind and derive perverse pleasure out of being brutal. There has never been any question of who the better person is between us.

 But the beauty of being together is, you find new things to love in each other all the time, things you would never have expected before you get together or have a family. For example, I fall in love with JBoy again every time I see him being so hands-on and patient and over all so good with the Clara. I'd like to believe he has also found some new things to fall in love with me for. Ha ha ha.

For me, our greatest luck lies in being able to remain best friends after all these years. JBoy is still the one person I can't wait to talk to when something happy or sad or crazy happens in my life. It's like any idea I get is not even an idea until I share it with him. JBoy will always be that one person who I know will kill tigers for me and give me long, tight hugs no matter how old or ugly or heinously bitchy I get.

I liked this cartoon in the Inquirer sometime back. Megan the whale was helping a shrimp get out of a net it got caught in. Her hubby Sherman asked her why she was doing that when they eat these shrimps. And Megan answered something like, In the epic struggle between marine life and man, we side with our own kind. Sherman says, You've always been a sucker for epic struggles. And she retorts, Hence, I married you

But the truth of the matter is, he's the epic minus all the struggles.

Letting Go

Robby told me this story about a guy and an old woman who needed to cross a river to get to the other side. 

 The guy took pity on the woman who obviously would not be able to cross the river by herself. So he carried her on his back and waded into the water. He was surprised at her weight tho and kept complaining that she was so heavy. Long after they crossed the other side he was still carrying her on his back and complaining about it. And then the woman said, “Thank you. Please put me down now. You have to learn to let me go”.

(Thanks, Robby. This is exactly what I needed to hear at this time.)

Roller Coaster

(This was intended to be published December 2011)

The reason I've been quiet lately is that I am going through a lot and that was in a rally difficult time.  I also resigned from the office last month, and a lot of very confusing things ensued. First, they didn't want to let me go. And then they offered a consultancy for corporate governance. They also offered positions as either corporate secretary or general counsel  of their company.  And then the No. 1 guy in the office had a long and serious talk with me and said it was The Owner herself who gave him marching orders to make me stay. He gave me all sorts of tempting offers, including working with him directly instead of reporting to this person who will never win Miss Friendship in the office (to say the least).

I was tempted to stay just to offend her. It would definitely be a big slap on her face if I changed my mind and stayed all bcoz she wasn't be going to be my boss anymore. And I derived perverse joy out of knowing that the powers in the office were ready to offend her just to make little old me stay. (Yes!) M (one of the people I consider like an Ate in the office) wanted me to stay for the exact same reason, albeit with the disclaimer that this was vengeful and evil and not at all a valid reason to stay. Ha ha.

M also said if I'm the kind of person who's satisfied with an annual hefty salary increase as a form of appreciation for a job well done, then this is the right company for me. And I realized I wasn't that kind of person. (This might come as a surprise to some who know me as mukhang pera and patay gutom, and I don't deny that, but I've known my true self all along.) I prefer the occasional pat on the back or “good job” or “well done”. I'm more shallow than materialistic, I guess. Ha ha.

A lot of people have raised serious doubts about the wisdom of my decision to resign.Rhoel said he will take on my job, collect my impressive paycheck, and find a good hobby. (Meaning, I'm just bored and being flighty. Ouch.) To his credit, Regina (who stands to be most affected by all of this since he's my one and only manager in the office) tried very hard to be rational and supportive to the end, until I asked him for his honest opinion, and by the end of that day he still wasn't finished enumerating the 60 million reasons why I should stay

I could tell everyone that the salary and benefits and the whole prestige and glory of working  for what is hands-down the a big company actually the easiest parts to give up. I was never the kind of person who got off on titles and big names, anyway. What made me think twice about leaving were all the little things – the vi the staff who are always smiling at me and joke with me in the CR, the guards who never fail to open the door for me no matter how many times in a day I gallivant around the office, the free lunch with Starbucks Boss, the free time to blog, my own space where i can even curled and sleep and my boss still would think im busy. What almost convinced me to stay was the thought that, if I did, then I wouldn't be abandoning Pei Li and Lani (my beloved secretary).

So the past two weeks have been an unbelievable roller coaster ride. I changed my mind everyday. I changed my mind twice a day. In the morning I was 100% sure of staying, and by afternoon I was dead set on leaving everything behind. I consulted Jon, Paula, Thom, Sherry, Chris and M everyday, and I'm grateful for their time and concern and wisdom. It got to the point where I asked Jon to just make the decision for me and I'll go along with whatever he chooses. (I figured a guy who tops the Bar at 93% - or something like that – could not go wrong.) Ches, Regina, Lani and I also drew lots, and it was only Regina who, true to his sentiment, drew for me to stay.

Needless to say, I have been crying and crying. Even Ches, who has always known me to be a crybaby, was amazed that the slightest thing could set me off and I never seem to run out of tears.

In the end, I just prayed over it. After all, as Ches pointed out, it's a win-win situation for me, whatever I decide.

I just feel that it is time to move on. I felt this bcoz, despite all the fuss that my current office made over my resignation, to the extent that The Owner herself got directly involved (and this was definitely something I never would have expected), despite the tempting deal they offered – it didn't make me feel happy to stay. I told Ches, maybe I was just really so unhappy already that what should have been a no-brainer, a David and Goliath kind of fight, was not and became, instead, a heart-wrenching tug-of-war. I just couldn't bring myself to tell the new office I changed my mind and am staying at my current job. Paula said she felt the same sense of loyalty to her new company – they, after all, offered her a way out when she was desperately looking for one.

I guess, only time will tell if I made the right decision or not. I do realize that this has the potential of being the worst mistake I've ever made. But I guess I just have to deal with it.

I have no ill feelings towards my current company or even any of the people there. I've made some really good friends there, too. I'm also sad that it didn't work out, that it seems it just wasn't for me. I have no regrets joining them, and have always felt pride and honor working for them. I'm thankful that the Corporate Governance Scorecard results came out in the same week I resigned, and all four of the companies I handled leaped from scores of 67% to 73% before I joined, to 90% when I did their Scorecards. That's a good enough legacy, I guess. I'd like to believe it shows I was able to accomplish something in the one and a half years I was with the company, slacker lifestyle and all. It was good enough to make my bosses and the owners ask me to stay, anyway.

Goodbye and thank you, Baker. You've still got it all.

(All except me, I guess ...)

No Need To Be So Details

I learned a lot from my bosses. In the law office, I had a boss who was a walking Strunk and White. He would call us to his room at night when he reviewed our legal opinions, and we would sit beside him as he mangled our work way into midnight. He didn't seem to particularly care whether our legal advice was accurate or thorough or could possibly send the whole firm to jail; he seemed only to care that we should write in flawless English. He taught us all the usual Strunk and White rules on avoiding big words, making our sentences concise, usage of semicolons, the works.

On top of these, however, he also had these rules that I honestly thought he just made up in his anal moments, but when I Googled them up, he was actually right. One example: use 'on behalf of' when you mean 'as agent of', and use 'in behalf of' when you mean 'for the benefit of'. Hence, on behalf of my equally clueless batch mates in the law office, I would like to thank our boss, the grammar Nazi, for slaving over all our legal documents, in behalf of our clients who undoubtedly could not care less whether our commas were properly placed.

From another boss I learned the difference between 'currently' and 'presently'. I had no idea there was even any difference, and raised my eyebrows when she crossed out the 'presently' in my draft and inserted 'currently'. (I can't explain it, but I seemed to be always in a fighting mode with this woman, always provoking her to fire me on the spot.) I surfed the Net and found that she was, in fact, correct. 'Currently' means 'right now' or 'in the present time' while 'presently' means 'soon to happen' or 'in a moment'. So, I'm currently hoping to learn something truly useful from a boss, other than hair-splitting grammar rules, one that will presently bring me loads of moolah.

My favorite boss of all time (mainly bcoz he's so hot, altho I seem to be the only one who thinks so) taught me to put 'place' before 'time' in a sentence. I think we were working on the agenda for a board meeting, when he told me that the place of the meeting should precede the date. In all fairness to me, I knew it all along and was doing it right; I just didn't know there were formal rules on it. (Place, manner, time is the correct order, apparently.) This time I didn't need to go to the Web; I just took his word for it. I have such a high regard for this guy that if he leaves even a single paragraph intact in a 10-page document that I ask him to review, I go and treat my office friends to lunch.

Now Boss No. 4 is a different breed altogether. He is, without a doubt, a brilliant man. He is, in fact, a multi-awarded business whiz and a well-loved icon in the company who has this talent of owning the stage when he makes a presentation – but his English often leaves me scratching my head in utter bewilderment. He asks me stuff like, “Have you meet so-and-so? Have you meet him?” and “Do we need to reply this?” He has many more of these laugh-out-loud comments, but my all-time favorite is: “No need to be so details”. From this boss I learned How to Murder the English Language.

Gigay

Gigay came to visit the other night. She is exactly the same as when I met her in freshman year in LlB – warm, funny, and ever so upright. I'm also happy to note that she has maintained her sarcastic streak (ha ha).

Gigay was one of those sensible girls in school that I always wanted to be groupmates with for the endless papers and reports and presentations, bcoz she was not the type to leave you up in the air then make excuses for not being able to contribute her share. (That's more me, actually. Darn.) It was very easy to get along with her bcoz she was one of those nice girls who did not have any issues or attitude problems.

And she loved books. Kiss Me, Creep was one of her favorite books of all time so I just had to give my copy to her (it also happens to be one of my favorite Sweet Dreams books). And she was a fellow sucker for movies, especially the cheesy rom-com kind. I forgot to ask if she still had a thing for Brad Pitt (I am so over him), whom she loved in A River Runs Through It and Legends of the Fall and Meet Joe Black, while I swooned over Hugh Grant in The Remains of the Day and Sense and Sensibility and Notting Hill. (Aaah, college movies. Those were the days.) And we were both obsessed with Picket Fences and would spend Mondays psychoanalyzing and still sniffling over the Saturday episodes.

She also loved to write. We were always exchanging little notes and letters and songs and poems – me and Gigay and Kai and Amor and Bambi and Hannah and Randy and Don and Monch and Nico and Malk. (I kept all these little pieces of paper from them after all these years. I wonder sometimes if we would have written to each other so much if we already had cellphones then. Maybe not. So once again we prove that technology is not always a good thing.) It was Gigay who wrote that I was a sweet soul who is easily made happy by the sight of flowers and clouds, and that our friends want to be a little more like me, for all that I am. This remains one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about me.

One of the things I love most about her is, she is devout and spiritual and righteous, but she never once made me feel that I was a lesser person tho I was mean, obscene, selfish, proud and plain evil lots of times. She was never judgmental - it's like she has just accepted me for who I am.

And it's not her birthday or anything, but I just figured, I'm always blogging about my stupid self and dramas and all the food that I ram down my throat, and all these stupid, shallow things, and it's high time I write about the stuff that really matter. All these beautiful people in my life, friends like Gigay whom I've known for almost 18 years, more than half my life – they are, as e.e. cummings puts it, whatever a moon has always meant, and whatever a sun will always sing. They are the wonder that's keeping the stars apart.

Chronic Happiness

A friend marveled at what a happy person I seem to be. She said I sound as if I’m always having the greatest fun, even when I’m bitching about something or someone (hahaha). She’s right, for the most part. I think I’ve been a happier person over-all since I moved from overseas. At mornings I’m not scrambling to beat the traffic  and. Weekends are mine to spend as I wish and I’m not all stressed out thinking already of the work that awaits me on Monday, which was how it used to be at my former company. This just proves that money – which was overflowing at my former job – doesn’t buy happiness, and conversely, the lack of it doesn’t necessarily lead to misery.

I read something about chronic depression, and this guy described it as this condition where you just don’t stop being sad. (Owww. How sad is that.) If that’s so then Clara must have a bad case of chronic happiness. This little guy just can’t stop being happy. When I think of him I see this little skinhead with a protruding belly clapping his hands and squealing wooohoo woohoo. Because this is how he is most of the time. Within minutes after I give her a serious scolding she’s throwing her arms around me and whispering some silly secret as tho i hadn’t just lost all my love and patience for him big time. Even when  I am bickering and bickering in front of her the way i very well know i shouldn’t she’d just tell us to zip my mouth and move on to whatever infinitely interesting activity she’s up to. She seems to be this very secure little person that leads me to believe that despite all Ive managed to bungle up i must have done right with this one thing (so far).

I wish I had chronic happiness. I actually get pretty sad too sometimes. I cried  when Hunter our Labrador from Didoy’s dad in Davao passed away after spending barely a year with us, a year when I wasn’t able to spend much time with him because I was overseas working. I was devastated when Mumi had to go back to Italy and one night before he drifted off to sleep Clara blurted out that she’s sure her house is all pink and asked me why she had to work so far away. It was then I was sure she really missed her and I felt bad because it’s heartbreaking enough for a perfectly grown adult to be torn away from a loved one, but for a pre-schooler to have to suffer it – it’s unimaginable. It should be outlawed. And then I was a total wreck again when Clara had her first illness, a bout of diarrhea after we tried to mix some formula in her solids.

But, like I told a friend, how can you stay sad when it’s summer and the sunflowers are all in bloom and the beaches are just waiting to be dived into? How can you be sad without committing the sin of discontent and ungratefulness when there’s so much love and beauty to go around and back again? My kind of happiness, while not chronic nor everlasting, is shamelessly cheap or even outrightly free. It’s Clara's trademark smile with her eyes getting all crinkled and a dimple on her left cheek and her tongue sticking out. Malk love notes from way back in college. Haz’ hilarious texts, complete with animated icons. A big Snickers bar all to myself. Getting a “well done” from my favorite boss. A surprise text or call or email from my old friends like Phoebe, Kaye, Randy, Malen, Jon, Mailyn. Having your college crush as the external counsel for your project.  Walking on the newly-paved road in our street on lazy Sunday afternoons, with Clara squealing at the swaying leaves in the neighborhood trees. A long day at the beach that doesn’t end until sunset. A steaming bowl of noodles on a rainy day. High heels that are surprisingly comfy and do not murder your feet outright. A good, long pedicure capped off by a nail polish in any dark shade. Finding your long gone USB in the pocket of your molding coat. My pink Kamiseta jacket with embroidery and bow that fit me even when I was pregnant. Clara’s “wacky” and “Korean” poses when she’s in the mood for pictorials. Clara’s sharing a forkful of sansrival with me, even when it’s her favorite dessert. My black leather boots from CMG that makes me feel like seriously kicking someone’s behind. A tall glass of halo-halo with two scoops of ice cream from just about anywhere. Finding a picture frame with a drawing of Noah’s Ark, perfect for our Noah Jared. A daintily-wrapped gift (tho the contents be short of spectacular). Discussing the wonders of Koreanovelas with otherwise perfectly sane people. The McDo commercial where the gang teases some poor guy to buy burger just because his shirt is tucked in or he says something in English. Boots’ giggles when we smooch his little baby-smell neck. A book by your favorite author on sale. Discovering the beauty of a little-known indie film. Somebody paying a long-forgotten debt or one you can’t summon the courage to collect. Anything Hello Kitty. Everything Coffee Prince. Ancient churches. Lovely poems, all the better if in Filipino. The musicians who play day-long in the Manila Pen lobby and one time even played Rainbow Connection, my favorite song from my childhood. A blog like this where you let it all hang out.

The list is endless.

Scattered Rainshowers

I envy people who know all along what they want to be. People like Randy, who’s always wanted to be a cashier. He gets this almost beatific glow when he mimics tapping on the keys of a cash register. I’m happy too for friends who finally find their calling, never mind if they got sidetracked first by some boring and useless career like lawyering. People like Rhoel who is now a full-fledged stage actor, or Loudette who is now an events organizer for our former law firm.

Me, I haven’t made up my mind until now. I just know when I see someone doing something and I grab myself and say, I want that job. For example, a halo-halo mixer. There’s something so happy about mixing all these sweet ingredients of different colors and coming up with a shamelessly sinful no-pretense-of-being-healthy dessert. It’s the same reason why I go to buffet places like Cabalen and Albergus even if I’m not really into all these Pinoy fiesta dishes – just so I could get my hands into the halo-halo bar. It’s perverse, I know.

When I have a purchase gift-wrapped, then I know I also want to be a gift-wrapper. To have that ability to create a thing of beauty and make someone happy - how can you not want this job? (It baffles me tho why most professional gift-wrappers (in fact 100% in Rustan’s) are male, when I don’t know any male from my family or circle of friends who has ever wrapped a gift. I mean, it’s a girl thing. One of life’s mysteries, I guess.)

Last time we were at the duty-free shop, I saw this sales lady singing out song after song in the Magic Sing stall. How fun is that? I don’t think it’s possible to sing without having fun. And I don’t mean just the usual videoke staples like Build Me Up Buttercup or Dancing Queen or whatever. You can be doing an overly dramatic, angst-filled Whitney Houston or Mariah Carey lung-buster, and singing is such a joy anyway. Never mind if it means not having the talent to hit all the high notes in as public a place as a mall – this is all totally irrelevant.

I can also be like that girl Sarah from the Korean drama blog. With the utter volume of material in her site – from the comprehensive recaps and reviews to the downloadable soundtracks and latest pix of the hottest stars and indeed everything you need to know about Korean dramas or everything Korea in general – there’s no justice in this world if on top of this blog she also works full-time as something else. Like a hands-on mom or an employee in some competitive office or something. No justice whatsoever.

I was reading this chick lit starring a book publisher. And I thought – hmmm, book publisher … why didn’t I think of that? To get paid to spend your days reading and reading and being the first to discover all the nicest stories and working with writers too, not to mention being able to bring your work home as bedtime reading or while you’re vacationing on a beach – it’s too good I can’t even bear to consider it.

Needless to mention, I can also be a personal shopper, like I think what Becky Bloomwood from the Shopaholic series did when she moved from the UK to the US. It makes me wonder if this isn’t just fiction and whether real, live people can actually not only get paid but also derive their source of livelihood from doing something as silly and easy-peasy and fantabulous like blogging and reading and shopping. It’s surreal.

For entirely opposite reasons, I think I can also be a meteorologist. Not that I’m interested in the weather or anything. Far from it. I just think they have it so easy. They can announce that there’ll be scattered rain showers and if it rains in some obscure part of Jolo or something they’d already have done a good job, and no one can accuse them of being a mere know-it-all. I mean, it’s the whole essence of scattered. And they’re only ever in the spotlight when there’s a huge storm or major weather event – but otherwise I imagine they just spend their days Googling people up or whatever, and they don’t have their bosses breathing down their necks to make them meet a deadline or other savage work stuff. It’s the ideal job for slackers.

I wish I can claim to have always wanted to have as my main occupation something noble, like how tragic Holden Caulfield wanted to catch kids before they fall off a cliff. But actually there are only two things I’ve consistently wanted to be since I was a little girl: a ballerina and a kindergarten teacher. I ended up being this boring and pretentious accountant instead of doing classic and graceful plies and pirouettes. But at least with Clara I became a kindergarten teacher-wet nurse-poopoo wiper-terror mother all rolled into one.

One out of two can’t be all that bad

This Is The Life

It’s one of your favorite things to say. Usually uttered when you’re lying on your favorite chair, with your feet dangling on one side, and sucking on your thumb while tuned in to Tuff Puppy or some other crazy Nickelodeon show. Or when you’re pigging out on fried rice and some crispy fried fish. Or when we watch videos of your favorite songs on Youtube. It is The Life, indeed.

You also like to say, I’m stressed! And even, I need space! These you say normally when we’re all together in the room or downstairs, and all of us are talking at the same time or looking for some small thing for which we have to turn the place upside down. You would suddenly stand up, cover your ears with your hands, and shout at the top of your lungs: Quiet, you guys! I’m stressed! I need space!

One time I even caught you in the middle of delivering a lecture to Ate Coleen when she was sulking after we scolded her. You were saying: Everyone makes mistakes, Ate. Even I make mistakes. Yes, all articulate and sensible like that! Spoken like you’re The Wisest Three Year Old Ever (not). Or you tease her when we’re studying while you’re free to just play all day.

You’re A Character, no doubt.

You know all these Big Words, but you’re still a baby thru and thru. I pick you up and carry you all around every time you let me. I’m taking advantage while you’re still at a weight I can carry. I know that by next year or so, you’ll be too heavy for me and that will be The End of My Baby-Lugging Years. (Or at least until the next baby comes along.)

Already we miss how you used to say ‘inee’ for ‘ice cream’, ‘poopoo pie’ for ‘buko pie’, and ‘idea’ for curtain rod (what’s this one all about, Clara?). You have gone so fast from being a baby to a pre-schooler, with all your new songs tatay taught you, all your stories about Aidan, LJ, Yuri, Ishi, Marthina, learning your alphabet and numbers, writing your name. We immensely enjoy all of your new tricks – your action songs that you are always willing to perform for everyone without even the shadow of a bribe, your Invisible Hula Hoop.

You only know one prayer so far. So when I asked you to pray bcoz there was a typhoon, you readily recited: God is good, God is great. Thank you, Lord, for our food today. Amen. You said the same prayer when I got sick after our Bora trip. Or when we went to the Italian embassy. Haha.

You love being tickled. You don’t even pretend to not like it. You love watching - yes, just watching - this guy you call Bob Taba in Tekken in PSP. You are so easy to please and a love whore like me –the two of us so easily LOVE EVERYTHING. One time you woke up on the right side of the bed and declared, I looove this Thomas pillow! And the rest of the morning was all about how you looove that silly pillow. Another time I was dusting off my little teapot set from Vietnam, and we decided to play with it and you kept saying, I looove this teapot toy! Even the funny names that we invent –  Tamadoodles for me – never fail to make you dissolve into giggles, no matter how many times we’ve said them, no matter how old they get. (We so need to up our standards and threshold for amazement and joy, Clara, lest we betray our real social status. Being picky and hard to please are apparently marks of The Truly Rich.)


You are also infamous for throwing The Mother of All Tantrums. At the most perfect times like when we’re fielding questions from the American consul guy during our US visa interview. Plus pooping 9 out of 10 times when we're out of the house.

For the most part we just let you be, bcoz you’re only three, after all, and still in that level of cuteness that makes everything you do forgiveable. (When you’re a little bit older and no longer as cute, then we can send you to jail. Haha.) And in the end, it’s all these little things – your adult statements, song and dance routines, fierce independence, the hair that just refuses to be combed down, your 60 million unanswerable questions – that make you so perfect everyday.

Thank you, Clara, for loving me the way only you know how – loyally, fiercely, without judgment or question. I love you, too. I'm absolutely, insanely, boundlessly in love with you. be my baby for a little bit longer. Please.

Lighthouses

There is something about lighthouses that break my heart. Maybe bcoz they are so ancient, and stand all forlorn looking out to the sea. There is also so much dignity in what they do, so much quiet courage. Hazel knows just how much I love lighthouses and she made sure she can see the famous ones in Cape Cod to take pictures for me. If you can't call that love, then what else?

Here is the Cape Cod National Light, overlooking the Cape Cod National Shore. Wow, this place is too beautiful for words. Hazel said this place is called Land's End, and it  really does feel like the end of the world here...well by looking at it. So peaceful.

The lighthouses are the perfect personification of friendship. Watching over a friend without pretense. Buying the person wholesale with all the flaws and craziness it carries. Loving the person despite the dramas, and ready to show the path.

Thank you, Hazel. I love you and love you and love you. You are the lighthouse of my life.

Dearest Chio

it's been six years, six months, and five days since you said goodbye to us, and i sometimes still find myself wishing you were just a text message away so that i can tell you about the million and one things that i'm going through right now. remember when you told me that you've made reservations at q.c. sports for your wedding reception? well, i'll finally get to go there last wednesday.


 oh, you'd be happy to note that tita celia and i found each other on facebook. it's truly a small world -- the guy my friend married is from taal and she saw some of the pics they took during my friend's baby shower so she sent a note on fb, hoping it was me, and boom -- we're back in each other's lives, well, at least fb lives. she told me that my friend's father-in-law is buried near where you are, so hopefully, one day i can visit you there. i haven't seen your new "home" yet, but i'm planning on coming over soon. who knows, maybe i can take some time off and come on a tuesday. tuesday has always been our special day.


 guess what -- Vertical Horizon will be having a concert in manila soon. the tape you gave me was stolen by our maid in the quarter, but i have them on my ipod and i think of you every single time "as long as it matters" plays. i bet if you were still around this would be a big thing for both of us. maybe we'd even watch the concert at araneta. without you, though, i'm skipping it. it just wouldn't be the same.


 they say your younger brother looks a lot like you, albeit taller and fairer. i can't imagine that -- after all, you've always been short (ok, fine, you're taller than i am) and dark. tita hazel said he's graduating from college soon, too. i never did get to ask you if you finished college. did you? now i can't help but contemplate on what would've been if tita lynn allowed you to go to PMA. would you have graduated? would you have enjoyed every single bit of it? would you have had the time of your life?


 sigh, half a lifetime later and i still have a lot of questions. i do wish you didn't have to leave us so soon.

How I Met Your Father

I saw the episode of How I Met Your Mother where they theorize that we usually end up with someone who’s most like our parents. I couldn’t agree more. If you ask my friends, they would attest that my choices of men have been quite extreme, but they all have one common denominator: They’re all kind.

 At different points in my life, I’ve got crushes for (in random order): the smart officer,  the funny yuppie, the campus politician,  the younger guy, the boring doctor, the smart & sweet and caring officer (aka the smart officer) What can I say? He made a comeback so he deserves to be mentioned twice), AND yet another holy guy. So judging from this list, you can see that I can forego bad grammar ( I know right?!), and I can forego lack of humor (well, to a certain degree, at least), but I cannot forego a good heart. And all these men— they are all kind just like my father. They treat other people well, they’re respectful and patient, and they never say bad things against other people. They say that the gauge if a man is really kind is whether he’s kind to everyone, not just you.

 I realized that unconsciously, I was actually looking for someone just like my father. That’s a tall order, I know. Because in his quiet, underwhelming yet effective way, my father made me feel special. In fact, he made me feel precious. I’m not sure if any man can ever approximate that. So maybe a guy who’s exactly like my father doesn’t exist. But I know that there are still a few good men out there who will remind me of him and who will take care of me, maybe not in the same way my father did, but in his own unique and sweet way.

 And you know what? I think I found one just recently.

 To be continued…. ;)

Little and Few Steps to Healing

taongbayan na lang siya sa dula ng buhay ko

and so thus went the text i sent a couple of friends last friday, in effect announcing the demise of a five-and-a-half long crush i had over this guy, better known in this blog as J boy.

the term taongbayan actually came from an anecdote haz shared with us once about her sister. apparently, one day, her sister came home from school quite excited to share with her family that finally, after all those years of not being included in school plays, she was part of one. their mom then asked, ano role mo, anak. then haz' sister promptly, and quite proudly, replied, taongbayan! so, okay, role na pala yun.

anyway, recently people who've held top billing in my life have begun being mere extras for one reason or another. maybe i've matured in my taste (highly unlikely, and i'm quite sure of that, for reasons i will not share in this blog). or maybe it's just that when people's cameo roles become less frequent, you begin to get numb to the former pain that comes from not having that person around until the time comes that you realize, maybe it wasn't as important as i first thought.

i don't know. what i do know is that the feeling's akin to the scales falling off my eyes (biblical reference right there, if you didn't notice) and realizing, probably for the first time, that there's more to life than the love and hurts that alternate deep within me.

i gotta go sleep. i can't fall asleep on the soup over lunch, can i?

p.s. keith, i've to tell you something. hope i catch you online soon.

The Men That Nobody Wanted

when marela was young and unjaded with life, she made a little list of things she wanted in a mate. he had to be tall and smart and interesting. he should have good genes (to have better children with) and come from a close-knit family. he should be able to engage in witty banter and someone who can sustain long and meaningful conversations deep into to night.

and he should not be over thirty. marela figured that men over thirty, unless they went to med school, law school, or just lost a long-time girlfriend who either passed away, migrated, or turned into the ultimate b*tch overnight, are the proverbial crumbs, the dregs at the bottom of the coffee pot. they've been tried, tested, and discarded. other women didn't want them, so why should you?

so marela had a great time dating men her age. some bloomed into wonderful meaningful relationships, some didn't, but it was all good. she also dated men older than her (but not older than thirty) and even when those didn't pan out, at least she came out a wiser and more gracious person than before.

one day, marela was thrown by destiny to be roommates with a girl whose belief in life was that women over 25 who happen to be single are big-time losers. gasp, marela thought, that would be me. marela just ended a tumultuous five-year relationship and was feeling pretty much hateful of the world. she was tired of dating, tired of falling in love, tired pretty much of anything that involved men, but she didn't want to end up alone and single.

although marela refused (adamantly, really) to subscribe to her roommate's philosophy, she began to doubt her marketability. yup, she wasn't getting any younger, and men her age, or older but under the 30-year-old cut-off, were either in relationships or weren't really looking. oh she had a totally dedicated and perfectly lovable guy chasing after her but she didn't really want him, much like in the same way you don't like eating the ulam at home... you don't like it cause, well, it's just there all the time.

so she went against the great age barrier and started dating men who were *gasp* older than 30.

the guy was good on paper. good family, established, educated, and seemed every bit the gentleman. the height difference was staggering, even in 3 1/2 inch heels, but as long as both of you remain seated, no one really notices that he's almost a foot taller. it was all good until rosa realized that one day all he wanted was to have fun (at 32? sheesh.) and more fun, and even if he did bowl her over with five dates in a row, she wasn't about to just have fun when fun involes the topic of a sugarfree song. no no no no no.

cosmo was right. mark was right. men that age have crossed the great barrier. they're over thirty, and single. they have resisted feminine wiles and devious women tricks to hook them. they can finally afford the luxury car. they can take out five women at a time and not be worried about their budget anymore. they're on to women, and for the first time in their life, they finally understand women. they're also a becoming a minority and the dating pool, as they get older, gets bigger and better.

so maybe marela was wrong. they weren't the men nobody wanted.

they were the men everybody wanted.

and so the tables have been turned.

Uso Pa Ba Ang Happy Ending?

Kakatapos ko lang basahin ang Book 3 ng Hunger Games. Tulad ng inaasahan, nagkatuluyan ang mga dapat magkatuluyan, natalo ang mga kontrabida, at nanalo ang mga bida. Pero nakakainis na may mga namatay na sa tingin ko, hindi dapat. Kaya pagkatapos ko magbasa, ang nasabi ko lang ay:

Uso pa ba ang happy ending?

Bakit lahat ng basahin ko o panoorin ko, pag may element of joy, may tragedy na kapalit? Bakit pag nagkatuluyan ang magka loveteam, mamamatay ang kapatid? Bakit pag gumaling ang tatay, may utang pala sa sindikato? Bakit pag yumaman na, may cancer pala? Bakit pag peace time na at tapos na ang giyera, mag isa ka na lang sa buhay?

Bakit wala nang happy ending na happy ending lang, period? Tingin ko, kahit ok naman maging realistic, masaya din makapanood ng masaya lang. Ganun dati, nung bata pa ako. Pag nahuli na ang bruha, happy ever after na. Wala nang huling hirit na mamamatay. Wala nang twist na may iba pa palang mas evil na kontrabida. Maaaring hindi realistic pero hindi naman ako nanonood at nagbabasa para makanood ng realistic. Kung ganun din lang, e di makikitsismis na lang ako sa buhay ng kapitbahay ko.

Nakakamiss ang simpleng happy ending. Iniisip ko na lang na kung hindi ko man sya makita sa mga binabasa ko ngayon, baka sa real life ko na lang sya makita. Tutal naman, baligtad na talaga ang mundo. At kahit ako syempre ang bida (dahil buhay ko naman ito), kaya ko din maging bruha. Pick your own happy ending, sabi nga nila. Or better yet, pick your own leading man. Pero hindi na lang fiction yun. Fantasy life na. ;)

Anyway, ito lang ang point ko:

Ibalik ang happy ending.

Kahit anong sabihin nila, kailangan pa din natin yun. Lalo na ngayon.

My Personal Easter

I find myself in a New York state of mind again today. In my vocabulary, that means being in that disposition again where I think anything is possible. There’s a long story behind me labeling this disposition as such, and obviously, it has something to do with my fascination for New York, but that’s a different story altogether which I intend to blog about in the future. Anyway, I was actually freaking out last night because this plan I’ve started is turning out to be more difficult than I thought, so last night I was telling my friend, “What, the hey, maybe I should just go for the easier route.” But my friend, being my number one cheerleader in the world, persuaded me to go on and reminded me that I’ve accomplished more difficult things in my life, so this one should be easy as long as I really set my heart on it. (Thank God for boyfreind's hmmm i mean friend! What would life be without them?) So I started to make more plans to further crystallize my project, and before midnight, everything seemed workable again.

This morning, I was delightfully surprised when I saw that the gospel for today is about Jesus’s third apparition since He resurrected— the one where He told His apostles to cast the net on the other side of the boat and they ended up getting more than what they expected. That was all I needed to get back on track again and to tell myself, this is the side of the boat that God is telling me to cast my net on. This is the point where I should just follow and say what the apostles said when they realized who He was: It is the Lord!

Since we are still in the octave of Easter, I choose to fill my thoughts with things that will remind me of the power of His rising. The tomb may be empty, but His promises are not.

It is the Lord, indeed!