Confession:
When I was young, I really got a kick out of watching
local comedy films even if that was considered baduy by my friends. I
didn’t mind at all that they teased me for my poor taste. After all, I
believe that watching these films has served me in good stead because
that was how I acquired my sense of humor and comic timing, which,
modesty aside, remain as my best (and possibly only) assets now that I’m
old.
I mention this because I remember watching how Chiquito or Tito Vic and Joey used to say wala lang pong kokontra
every time they were about to perform a magic trick. As a child I used
to wonder why it was necessary to say that phrase, until one day, a
light bulb flashed in my then tiny head and I understood. They had to
say that phrase because nobody believes in magic anymore and that phrase
is used to dispel all doubts regarding the authenticity of their magic.
So why am I blogging about this?
Because this morning, I woke up and realized that hey, I’m over him, and it feels like magic.
Anyone who’s seen me at the height of my enchantment could attest
that it would take magic—lots and lots of it, in fact— to make me over
him. But now I think I am. For one, I no longer wait for him to go
online, I rarely check his Facebook, if at all, and he’s no longer my
favorite topic when I’m talking to friends. Plus, I think I’ve finally
given up all hopes of seeing him and being with him again. And, most
importantly, he’s no longer the yardstick with which I measure every
other guy in my horizon.
Parang magic talaga. And in the tradition of all the comic magicians who have gone before me, it’s my turn to say: Wala lang pong kokontra.
unearthing words from my heart
20 May 2012
Excuses! Excuses!
I’ve been in my new job for a week now, and if you think this blog is about how my first week went, well, you’re wrong.
It’s not that there’s nothing to blog about regarding my new job. On the contrary, I’m overwhelmed (in a good way) with all the events of the past week. And as my friends know, whenever I’m overwhelmed whether in a good or a bad way, I have this insurmountable urge to share it with him. So yes, my wonderful friends who still care to visit this mushy blog, this post is yet again about him.
I want to tell him the kind of work that I do now, the new challenges and responsibilities that I have, the kind of people I now work with, this case that I’ve been losing sleep on the past nights, my nice office, the mind blowing meetings I’ve attended, and the many times I had to remind myself (the way he would) to take it easy and just enjoy my new life.
My bestfriend— the very same person who advised that I move on— told me during our last session that as I take on a new job, I should be prepared to embrace all the new things that come with it. And in order not to be overwhelmed, he advised that I always go back to my Constant. He was of course referring to God. But in my mind, as he said that, I was also thinking of the one person whose comfort I’ve sought through all the difficult times of the past years.
I know that this whole business of moving on is long overdue. But I always manage to come up with excuses to hold on. When I was overcoming a major disappointment three years ago, I used that as an excuse to see him often so that I could rant about life and hear him pacify me. When I was discerning about this job, I used that as an excuse to seek his guidance. And now— now that my life is finally working and things are finally looking up— I know I’m bound to use this again as an excuse to see him. Just because I want to.
So I guess a persevering heart will always find a way. Whether that’s right or wrong is an issue I’ll resolve some other time.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox said, “There is no destiny, no chance, no fate that can change, hinder or circumvent the firm resolve of a determined soul.”
Even just for today, I so want to believe that.
It’s not that there’s nothing to blog about regarding my new job. On the contrary, I’m overwhelmed (in a good way) with all the events of the past week. And as my friends know, whenever I’m overwhelmed whether in a good or a bad way, I have this insurmountable urge to share it with him. So yes, my wonderful friends who still care to visit this mushy blog, this post is yet again about him.
I want to tell him the kind of work that I do now, the new challenges and responsibilities that I have, the kind of people I now work with, this case that I’ve been losing sleep on the past nights, my nice office, the mind blowing meetings I’ve attended, and the many times I had to remind myself (the way he would) to take it easy and just enjoy my new life.
My bestfriend— the very same person who advised that I move on— told me during our last session that as I take on a new job, I should be prepared to embrace all the new things that come with it. And in order not to be overwhelmed, he advised that I always go back to my Constant. He was of course referring to God. But in my mind, as he said that, I was also thinking of the one person whose comfort I’ve sought through all the difficult times of the past years.
I know that this whole business of moving on is long overdue. But I always manage to come up with excuses to hold on. When I was overcoming a major disappointment three years ago, I used that as an excuse to see him often so that I could rant about life and hear him pacify me. When I was discerning about this job, I used that as an excuse to seek his guidance. And now— now that my life is finally working and things are finally looking up— I know I’m bound to use this again as an excuse to see him. Just because I want to.
So I guess a persevering heart will always find a way. Whether that’s right or wrong is an issue I’ll resolve some other time.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox said, “There is no destiny, no chance, no fate that can change, hinder or circumvent the firm resolve of a determined soul.”
Even just for today, I so want to believe that.
Faith Based Initiative
When I was several years younger and just starting to learn a lot
about prayer and relating to God, I thought being close to Him meant
knowing all the answers to life’s questions. In my 20s, I was introduced
to this concept called discernment and was taught how to do it by
people who were ahead of me in the spiritual life. It made perfect sense
to me. Discernment, as I was told, was about knowing God’s will in
certain situations so that when you decide on something, you know that
you consulted God before doing it. That kind of thinking appealed to me.
In my young mind, it provided a safety net for all the decisions that I
made. I thought discernment meant being fail proof and error free in
everything I do. But as my experience would tell me, I was wrong.
Well, that may not be accurate. There were times that I was right. In my life, I can name a number of decisions which I know I prayed about and turned out very well in the end.
However, there are two significant matters that really make me question the merits of discernment. And no matter how I try to avoid it, I end up dwelling on these two. From time to time, I struggle with the thought that the outcome of my discernment was false. That I heard God wrong. Or worse, that He simply led me on.
But then when I pray, and I mean really pray with all my heart, I get this conviction that God has my back and that’s all that matters. What I’m learning now is that while it’s good to discern, I don’t really have to know all the details of God’s plans for me. I don’t even have to know the blueprint of my life. Instead, I need just enough guidance— just enough light for the step I’m on— and I’d be okay.
I’m also realizing that the more simple my prayers are, the more I know that I’m attuned to God. I once heard a story about this girl who died and stood face to face with God and when she asked Him if she succeeded in being what He wanted her to be, God said, “The only thing I ever wanted was for you to be you. I don’t need the best version of yourself. Just you.” I used to question that story. Doesn’t God want us to be good at everything so that we can glorify Him? Isn’t that the whole point o f the parable of the talents? But later on I learned that just by being true to who you are, you already become the best version of yourself. And the same thing is true when we pray. There’s no need for elaborate words or for too much ritual. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk. You just have to show up. This realization led me to a more contemplative spirituality.
So now when I pray, I just tell God how I feel, what I want and how I want it to happen. And then I always end by telling Him that I don’t need to know everything— how it will happen, when it will happen, or if it will happen at all. I’ve stopped obsessing about discovering the ending. If I discern, it’s because I want to have the right disposition, not because I want a sure direction. Because if there’s one thing I learned, it’s that we can never be too sure about anything in this life. Except maybe about this: That faith is the substance of all things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen.
I may not have the heart to believe in many things now but I still believe in what’s unseen and in the plans of a God who moves them. And I know that for the rest of my life, this should be enough.
Well, that may not be accurate. There were times that I was right. In my life, I can name a number of decisions which I know I prayed about and turned out very well in the end.
However, there are two significant matters that really make me question the merits of discernment. And no matter how I try to avoid it, I end up dwelling on these two. From time to time, I struggle with the thought that the outcome of my discernment was false. That I heard God wrong. Or worse, that He simply led me on.
But then when I pray, and I mean really pray with all my heart, I get this conviction that God has my back and that’s all that matters. What I’m learning now is that while it’s good to discern, I don’t really have to know all the details of God’s plans for me. I don’t even have to know the blueprint of my life. Instead, I need just enough guidance— just enough light for the step I’m on— and I’d be okay.
I’m also realizing that the more simple my prayers are, the more I know that I’m attuned to God. I once heard a story about this girl who died and stood face to face with God and when she asked Him if she succeeded in being what He wanted her to be, God said, “The only thing I ever wanted was for you to be you. I don’t need the best version of yourself. Just you.” I used to question that story. Doesn’t God want us to be good at everything so that we can glorify Him? Isn’t that the whole point o f the parable of the talents? But later on I learned that just by being true to who you are, you already become the best version of yourself. And the same thing is true when we pray. There’s no need for elaborate words or for too much ritual. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk. You just have to show up. This realization led me to a more contemplative spirituality.
So now when I pray, I just tell God how I feel, what I want and how I want it to happen. And then I always end by telling Him that I don’t need to know everything— how it will happen, when it will happen, or if it will happen at all. I’ve stopped obsessing about discovering the ending. If I discern, it’s because I want to have the right disposition, not because I want a sure direction. Because if there’s one thing I learned, it’s that we can never be too sure about anything in this life. Except maybe about this: That faith is the substance of all things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen.
I may not have the heart to believe in many things now but I still believe in what’s unseen and in the plans of a God who moves them. And I know that for the rest of my life, this should be enough.
To The Prettiest Girl in Grade 7
It’s my good friend Rosa’s birthday today.
I’m writing this not because she also blogged about me on my birthday but because Rosa is the kind of friend you want to affirm over and over and that still wouldn’t be enough to thank her for making you realize all the nice things about yourself.
We were office mates for four years. When she joined our office, I was already good friends with Rache, but by virtue of the fact that Rosa was more supportive of my crush on this guy (Rache announced from the start that “na parang tumama ng lotto” yung guy pag naging kami. Haha) I immediately took her under my wings. When I became broken hearted because the same guy ended up with a friend of mine, Rosa tried to comfort me with this classic line I’ll never forget: “Wala akong words of wisdom na masasabi, pero pwede kitang samahan mag-shopping.”
Haha.
And shop we did.
And thus began a crazy wonderful friendship that’s soundtracked by equally crazy songs like Total Eclipse of the Heart and Part Time Lover, the context of which I can’t reveal without getting both of us into trouble.
Haha!
But seriously, Rosa is the kind of friend you would want to be stuck in a long road trip or a long line with because she will never run out of amusing things to say. She will take care of you when you’re too lazy ( as I am ) to move about, and she will put up with your mood swings and will understand if you would rather be quiet for a moment even though she’s still full of energy and childlike excitement. She’s super organized ( I learned all sorts of travel tips from her), very punctual (hence, she gets frustrated when people are constantly late), very practical (for all her shopping splurges, she is actually a wise spender who believes in the concept of value for money), and she can indulge you in your fantasy life no matter how outrageous it may be.
I think I’ve affirmed Rosa in the past for her fabulousness, her wit and charm and her ability to make me laugh, but I’ve never affirmed her for the more profound things she does. Now is my chance to do so. I wish more people will get to see how she has grown in her faith, and how, in the past year, she has been to me what I used to be for her— a source of comfort and wisdom, and a loyal friend I can rely on to believe on my behalf that things will eventually get better. I hope she gets to realize that she is really beautiful even without trying and that she has what it takes to be what she aspires to be and more.I hope she finally learns to accept the fact that she’s a good catch and she’s never meant to settle for anything less than what her heart truly desires.
Rosa is the kind of person I probably would’ve wanted to be friends with in college but wouldn’t have had the courage to approach because she looks so sosyal and driven. Which is why I’m glad that WU has brought us together (who would have thought?) and Lingkod would seal our friendship even better (mas malaking who would’ve thought! Haha!) I feel that we’ve been through a lot and yet there’s so much more to experience together. I promised her I’ll have a fountain built for her garden when we’re both rich. She promised me a dozen other pangmayaman things in return and we got a kick out of imagining ourselves when (not if) that time comes.
So to my dear friend Rosa, happy happy birthday!
Thank you for being in my corner and for making it easy to still be friends despite our distance and our crazy schedule. I’m blessed to have you as my encourager, my loyal friend, and my first official stylist. I know you’re big on birthdays so I hope this day will bring you surprises beyond what you expect
.
With lots of love from me, the right A, Minko, Aaron and Ally. Haha. Fantasy life is much better lived with you around.
Note: For those who are wondering about the title, it’s the same title I used when I blogged about Rosa a few years ago. The explanation for this title, however, is not my story to tell.
I’m writing this not because she also blogged about me on my birthday but because Rosa is the kind of friend you want to affirm over and over and that still wouldn’t be enough to thank her for making you realize all the nice things about yourself.
We were office mates for four years. When she joined our office, I was already good friends with Rache, but by virtue of the fact that Rosa was more supportive of my crush on this guy (Rache announced from the start that “na parang tumama ng lotto” yung guy pag naging kami. Haha) I immediately took her under my wings. When I became broken hearted because the same guy ended up with a friend of mine, Rosa tried to comfort me with this classic line I’ll never forget: “Wala akong words of wisdom na masasabi, pero pwede kitang samahan mag-shopping.”
Haha.
And shop we did.
And thus began a crazy wonderful friendship that’s soundtracked by equally crazy songs like Total Eclipse of the Heart and Part Time Lover, the context of which I can’t reveal without getting both of us into trouble.
Haha!
But seriously, Rosa is the kind of friend you would want to be stuck in a long road trip or a long line with because she will never run out of amusing things to say. She will take care of you when you’re too lazy ( as I am ) to move about, and she will put up with your mood swings and will understand if you would rather be quiet for a moment even though she’s still full of energy and childlike excitement. She’s super organized ( I learned all sorts of travel tips from her), very punctual (hence, she gets frustrated when people are constantly late), very practical (for all her shopping splurges, she is actually a wise spender who believes in the concept of value for money), and she can indulge you in your fantasy life no matter how outrageous it may be.
I think I’ve affirmed Rosa in the past for her fabulousness, her wit and charm and her ability to make me laugh, but I’ve never affirmed her for the more profound things she does. Now is my chance to do so. I wish more people will get to see how she has grown in her faith, and how, in the past year, she has been to me what I used to be for her— a source of comfort and wisdom, and a loyal friend I can rely on to believe on my behalf that things will eventually get better. I hope she gets to realize that she is really beautiful even without trying and that she has what it takes to be what she aspires to be and more.I hope she finally learns to accept the fact that she’s a good catch and she’s never meant to settle for anything less than what her heart truly desires.
Rosa is the kind of person I probably would’ve wanted to be friends with in college but wouldn’t have had the courage to approach because she looks so sosyal and driven. Which is why I’m glad that WU has brought us together (who would have thought?) and Lingkod would seal our friendship even better (mas malaking who would’ve thought! Haha!) I feel that we’ve been through a lot and yet there’s so much more to experience together. I promised her I’ll have a fountain built for her garden when we’re both rich. She promised me a dozen other pangmayaman things in return and we got a kick out of imagining ourselves when (not if) that time comes.
So to my dear friend Rosa, happy happy birthday!
Thank you for being in my corner and for making it easy to still be friends despite our distance and our crazy schedule. I’m blessed to have you as my encourager, my loyal friend, and my first official stylist. I know you’re big on birthdays so I hope this day will bring you surprises beyond what you expect
.
With lots of love from me, the right A, Minko, Aaron and Ally. Haha. Fantasy life is much better lived with you around.
Note: For those who are wondering about the title, it’s the same title I used when I blogged about Rosa a few years ago. The explanation for this title, however, is not my story to tell.
She Said It Best
Sometimes, when I’m in doubt whether my life amounts to anything,
and when my self-esteem needs some pampering, I turn to friends to
remind me that I am a good person after all. So it being my airtime—
that one day of the year I believe I’m entitled to be self-absorbed— I’m
reposting one my good friends’ posts about ME. Thanks Rosa!
Very few people know how to affirm me the way you do. 
G.V.O. (By Rosa, posted yesterday)
the red cups … winning the lotto … “rich” names … controversial decisions … being court attorney 4 … all those codenames! … the wrong “a” … staying in touch even two jobs later … getting over that major fight … me wanting to be friends with all of your friends … you introducing me to lingkod, cenacle, the jesuits, and to jewel … all those afternoons you and rache refused to talk to me to force me to study … the review books with the crazy notes … being the one to deliver me the news that changed my life … solsagamnida … sucre … solemn place … love story in harvard … mitsa …
you are a wonderful daughter, and a loyal friend. you are a
faithful sister and a shining example to other daughters of God. i’ve
said it yesterday, and i’ll say it again — blessed is the man who you
will choose to spend the rest of your life with.
Taxiiiiiiiii
Owing to the fact that I still don’t like to drive up to now, notwithstanding the offer for car incentive by my company I’ve
taken to commuting rather seriously. It’s such a hassle, really, but I
figured, better to be hassled commuting than to be stressed out driving.
Besides, there are days when commuting becomes surprisingly fun that
you just can’t help but blog about it. In fact, my friend Rosa has been
urging me write about my commuting (mis)adventures because she knows
how colorful my life as a commuter can sometimes get.
I remember one time when I rode an FX on my way home and the driver wanted us (his passengers) to go down right in the middle of the flood because he didn’t want to proceed anymore. But I was then wearing my new pair of gold shoes so I decided that I will not allow myself (and my shoes) to be bullied just like that. So I had to speak up and invoke what I vaguely remembered from my two units of Transpo law(which was 1/4 of a unit, actually, given how my professor conducted the class). I told him he cannot do that legally because he was a common carrier (yes, I used that term on the poor FX driver) and when he berated me for not showing him a copy of the law, I retorted by saying, “Bakit, ang doktor ba laging may dalang gamot?” As if on cue, some crazy guy inside the FX deemed it proper to applaud me and all the rest followed just like in the movies. The argument ended and we all silently reached our destination. I swear, these things happen only to me.
And then , when the entire Metro Manila was stuck in traffic because of unexpected heavy rains, the driver of the cab I was riding was being rude and kept complaining about the traffic as if I was the one who caused it. He urged me to go down and take the LRT instead, and since I was so tired to argue, I took the less antagonistic approach and told this lie in my pitiful voice, “Hindi ho ako pwede mag LRT. Buntis ho ako” He became nice and polite after that. I texted a friend about it and she replied, “I swear, these drivers have a way of bringing out the best and the worst in you.” I simply had to concur.
But with all my funny anecdotes, today’s cab driver took the cake. I knew from the way he was singing along with the song “This girl has turned into a woman” that he was— you’ll never believe this— gay! A gay cab driver, how cool is that? He made all these witty remarks that had me laughing all the way. Like when a truck was moving ever so slowly in front of us, he said with all the gayness he could muster, “Ay mamang truck, wag mo ko harangan, chuchurvahin kitaaaa!” and then he stepped on the gas, overtook the truck, stopped at the next red light and said “Ay, na-tense ako teh, kala ko, aabutan na tayo dun ng three-o-clock habit!” Haha. He also asked me what my job was and when I answered, he turned to look at me as if to size me up, and said “Bongga!!! Astig-astigan ang lola! Pakkkk!” But the classic line was when he drove through the maze of jeepneys along Faura and, upon finally reaching the gate of my office, he inhaled deeply and said dramatically in his bedroom voice “O di ba? Parang Imortal lang!” Haha.
I wasted no time giving him a tip and telling him in Tagalog that some gays annoy, some impress, but he downright made my day. What else would he reply but this: Echossss!
I remember one time when I rode an FX on my way home and the driver wanted us (his passengers) to go down right in the middle of the flood because he didn’t want to proceed anymore. But I was then wearing my new pair of gold shoes so I decided that I will not allow myself (and my shoes) to be bullied just like that. So I had to speak up and invoke what I vaguely remembered from my two units of Transpo law(which was 1/4 of a unit, actually, given how my professor conducted the class). I told him he cannot do that legally because he was a common carrier (yes, I used that term on the poor FX driver) and when he berated me for not showing him a copy of the law, I retorted by saying, “Bakit, ang doktor ba laging may dalang gamot?” As if on cue, some crazy guy inside the FX deemed it proper to applaud me and all the rest followed just like in the movies. The argument ended and we all silently reached our destination. I swear, these things happen only to me.
And then , when the entire Metro Manila was stuck in traffic because of unexpected heavy rains, the driver of the cab I was riding was being rude and kept complaining about the traffic as if I was the one who caused it. He urged me to go down and take the LRT instead, and since I was so tired to argue, I took the less antagonistic approach and told this lie in my pitiful voice, “Hindi ho ako pwede mag LRT. Buntis ho ako” He became nice and polite after that. I texted a friend about it and she replied, “I swear, these drivers have a way of bringing out the best and the worst in you.” I simply had to concur.
But with all my funny anecdotes, today’s cab driver took the cake. I knew from the way he was singing along with the song “This girl has turned into a woman” that he was— you’ll never believe this— gay! A gay cab driver, how cool is that? He made all these witty remarks that had me laughing all the way. Like when a truck was moving ever so slowly in front of us, he said with all the gayness he could muster, “Ay mamang truck, wag mo ko harangan, chuchurvahin kitaaaa!” and then he stepped on the gas, overtook the truck, stopped at the next red light and said “Ay, na-tense ako teh, kala ko, aabutan na tayo dun ng three-o-clock habit!” Haha. He also asked me what my job was and when I answered, he turned to look at me as if to size me up, and said “Bongga!!! Astig-astigan ang lola! Pakkkk!” But the classic line was when he drove through the maze of jeepneys along Faura and, upon finally reaching the gate of my office, he inhaled deeply and said dramatically in his bedroom voice “O di ba? Parang Imortal lang!” Haha.
I wasted no time giving him a tip and telling him in Tagalog that some gays annoy, some impress, but he downright made my day. What else would he reply but this: Echossss!
Almost Doesn't Count
It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t consummated.
There are things that are not meant to be consummated, anyway.
It doesn’t matter that it felt like I was left hanging midway.
I’m not sure of I would have wanted to see it all the way, anyway.
It doesn’t matter that I’m left with the could have beens.
What could still be is more important, anyway.
It doesn’t matter if it looks imagined or contrived.
That could be true, anyway.
I guess my point is, after all is said and done,
I’m not gonna make it less than what it actually is.
Because I still believe that contrary to the popular song, Almost Does Count.
At least to me, it does.
There are things that are not meant to be consummated, anyway.
It doesn’t matter that it felt like I was left hanging midway.
I’m not sure of I would have wanted to see it all the way, anyway.
It doesn’t matter that I’m left with the could have beens.
What could still be is more important, anyway.
It doesn’t matter if it looks imagined or contrived.
That could be true, anyway.
I guess my point is, after all is said and done,
I’m not gonna make it less than what it actually is.
Because I still believe that contrary to the popular song, Almost Does Count.
At least to me, it does.
And Just Like That, Im Old
I’m old.
I guess that can already be said about me. I realized this Friday night at the office when I was singing ” I was dying inside to hold you, couldn’t believe what I felt for you” and my assistant asked me what song was that, and I couldn’t believe he didn’t know the most popular song when I was a highschool freshman. This was the same assistant who told me Claudine Barretto has always been fat, and I was like, didn’t you see that famous scene in Got to Believe in Magic where she was running in her unbelievably tight shirt that showed how sexy and well endowed she was? To which he replied: Anong movie yun? And I said, the one with Rico Yan! And he said: Sino si Rico Yan?
I know, right?!?
My point: There are people in this world— make that adult working people— who were born when I was already in college. Which means that now, I’m the one who talks about the good old days the way my parents did when I was small. Now, I’m the one who says things like, the jeepney fare during our time was P1.50, and one movie then was 30 pesos. And now, I’m the one who sees these people roll their eyes and shake their heads the way I did when I was small.
But the biggest tragedy of all is not that I’m old, but that the ones I love are also old. So now I have friends who are being treated for hypertension and all sorts of sickness which I only used to hear from old people. My first cousin who was just a few years older than me died just a month ago. And we all know how death has become so real for me ever since my bestfriend Chio died.
I was thinking about all these things on my way to work this morning, and just when I was starting to feel depressed about it, I told myself that I’ll choose instead the happier outlook. And this entails remembering the following:
1. That what matters is not that you’re old, but that there is fullness of life behind those years;
2. That being old means being wise, which, modesty aside, is something that can also be said about me;
3. That having friends who are also old means having friends who have journeyed with you all these years;
4. That being old is just a physical state when your heart is always young;
AND MORE IMPORTANTLY…
5. That being old doesn’t matter when you’re always being told that you actually look ten years younger.
Haha!
So yes, I’m old, but all these years have taught me that no matter what my age is, I can always trust that the best is yet to come. That was true when I was 16. It was also true when I was 24. And even more true when I was 29. And now that I’m 30 (yes, I’m the type who boldly proclaims my age), I still know that the best is yet to come even though as things stand, I can already say that I’m experiencing the best of life now.
After all, I’m the one who always looks ten years younger. Haha!
I guess that can already be said about me. I realized this Friday night at the office when I was singing ” I was dying inside to hold you, couldn’t believe what I felt for you” and my assistant asked me what song was that, and I couldn’t believe he didn’t know the most popular song when I was a highschool freshman. This was the same assistant who told me Claudine Barretto has always been fat, and I was like, didn’t you see that famous scene in Got to Believe in Magic where she was running in her unbelievably tight shirt that showed how sexy and well endowed she was? To which he replied: Anong movie yun? And I said, the one with Rico Yan! And he said: Sino si Rico Yan?
I know, right?!?
My point: There are people in this world— make that adult working people— who were born when I was already in college. Which means that now, I’m the one who talks about the good old days the way my parents did when I was small. Now, I’m the one who says things like, the jeepney fare during our time was P1.50, and one movie then was 30 pesos. And now, I’m the one who sees these people roll their eyes and shake their heads the way I did when I was small.
But the biggest tragedy of all is not that I’m old, but that the ones I love are also old. So now I have friends who are being treated for hypertension and all sorts of sickness which I only used to hear from old people. My first cousin who was just a few years older than me died just a month ago. And we all know how death has become so real for me ever since my bestfriend Chio died.
I was thinking about all these things on my way to work this morning, and just when I was starting to feel depressed about it, I told myself that I’ll choose instead the happier outlook. And this entails remembering the following:
1. That what matters is not that you’re old, but that there is fullness of life behind those years;
2. That being old means being wise, which, modesty aside, is something that can also be said about me;
3. That having friends who are also old means having friends who have journeyed with you all these years;
4. That being old is just a physical state when your heart is always young;
AND MORE IMPORTANTLY…
5. That being old doesn’t matter when you’re always being told that you actually look ten years younger.
Haha!
So yes, I’m old, but all these years have taught me that no matter what my age is, I can always trust that the best is yet to come. That was true when I was 16. It was also true when I was 24. And even more true when I was 29. And now that I’m 30 (yes, I’m the type who boldly proclaims my age), I still know that the best is yet to come even though as things stand, I can already say that I’m experiencing the best of life now.
After all, I’m the one who always looks ten years younger. Haha!
19 May 2012
Both Sides
Strange how in one day I was able to see both sides of me.
I had a really stressful day yesterday. Aside from this MOA that I’ve been losing sleep on (government contracts are way too complicated than ordinary contracts, I swear. It’s due diligence to the millionth power), I was also working on a legal opinion which, I’m certain, won’t sit well with the higher ups. Add to that the fact that I’ve been getting the impression that I’m too kind in the office, so everytime I ask for assistance from the staff, I don’t get prioritized.
(Note : im now part of a Singapore Based Company which I worked before and had the guts to entrust the Incorporation at my beck :) since my Boss heard that im staying in Philippines for good)
Which brings me to my point.
When I was connected with a financial institution years ago, I had the same issue with my secretary who always attended to my concerns last. She was also the secretary of another associate and I noticed that every time I’d give her an assignment, she would finish her assignments for the other avp first before working on mine. The same thing happened in my last job. And now, I’m starting to see the same pattern emerging in my current job.
I was thinking about this yesterday and I realized that maybe I’m too kind. Maybe I should start being mean— you know, like the girl who gets the corner office, according to the book. Maybe, as my friend Bing puts it, it’s time to “put the position in my position” and show them how I should be treated by demanding more. So much for being the kind lawyer.
So there I was, on my way to a meeting last night, thinking about these things and planning on how to execute it, when someone points out to me that I’m actually masungit. Yes, masungit was how he described me. And I was like, whoa, where did that come from?
I know I’ve been called a lot of things before, to wit:
1. Bratty, by my friends who have to put up with my mood swings;
2. Argumentative, by my mom who thinks I don’t let her have the last say in any argument;
3. Assertive, by the litigation resident in my previous office which he actually meant as a compliment;
4. Sarcastic, by a masteral school blockmate who told another blockmate, “Wow, you’re even more sarcastic than Lorie
5. Opinionated, by people I’ve worked with in my previous community; and
6. Mataray, by A. but he said it in jest which was his form of lambing (yiheee!)
But masungit?
Masungit is a word you use to describe Bella Flores, or your math teacher in grade two who made you stand in the corner because you couldn’t give the right answer to 8 x 7=? (I obviously speak from experience. Haha) So when I heard that I was masungit, I immediately asked for factual basis, and he cited that one time I was complaining to someone and I allegedly shouted at that person.
To be honest, I don’t remember shouting during that incident. Maybe I was carried away, maybe I just raised my voice a little, maybe I was being more assertive than usual. So I texted some friends to ask if they think I’m masungit. One said yes, but there’s nothing wrong with that. The other said no, but qualified her answer. Another one said yes, but only when I don’t get what I want. And one said no, in fact I’m the sweetest friend she knows.
And since I knew I’d lose sleep over it if I don’t ask further, I texted the person who told me I was masungit and asked if he was serious when he said that. He said yes, but I can be kind sometimes.
Sometimes?
Fine.
Still not satisfied, I called a friend to discuss it with her (yes, it WAS that big of a deal for me) and we both figured out that there’s assertive, and there’s masungit, and they’re totally different, and I definitely fall under the first category. I was kinda appeased by that, but then when I was about to sleep, I realized that if you end up offending people either way, then the distinction between assertive and masungit doesn’t really matter. Because to them, it’s the same, and you end up being the person who hurts people with your words or your manner of speaking. And I thought, well, I can be a lot of things, but I don’t wanna be that person. Not anymore.
So I promised myself (and God) that I’ll be more patient and gentle now. Even if I don’t get what I want or what I deserve. Even if I’m already seething inside because of the unfairness of the situation. Even if I can enumerate all the causes of action in my head at the sight of an injustice. I will be kind and patient but still make my point without raising my voice.
I’ll change starting today. So that when I look at myself like I did yesterday, I won’t see both sides of me anymore because there’ll be just one side— the kind, gentle, patient, forbearing side.
So watch out for that girl; she is so gonna win you over. Haha.
I had a really stressful day yesterday. Aside from this MOA that I’ve been losing sleep on (government contracts are way too complicated than ordinary contracts, I swear. It’s due diligence to the millionth power), I was also working on a legal opinion which, I’m certain, won’t sit well with the higher ups. Add to that the fact that I’ve been getting the impression that I’m too kind in the office, so everytime I ask for assistance from the staff, I don’t get prioritized.
(Note : im now part of a Singapore Based Company which I worked before and had the guts to entrust the Incorporation at my beck :) since my Boss heard that im staying in Philippines for good)
Which brings me to my point.
When I was connected with a financial institution years ago, I had the same issue with my secretary who always attended to my concerns last. She was also the secretary of another associate and I noticed that every time I’d give her an assignment, she would finish her assignments for the other avp first before working on mine. The same thing happened in my last job. And now, I’m starting to see the same pattern emerging in my current job.
I was thinking about this yesterday and I realized that maybe I’m too kind. Maybe I should start being mean— you know, like the girl who gets the corner office, according to the book. Maybe, as my friend Bing puts it, it’s time to “put the position in my position” and show them how I should be treated by demanding more. So much for being the kind lawyer.
So there I was, on my way to a meeting last night, thinking about these things and planning on how to execute it, when someone points out to me that I’m actually masungit. Yes, masungit was how he described me. And I was like, whoa, where did that come from?
I know I’ve been called a lot of things before, to wit:
1. Bratty, by my friends who have to put up with my mood swings;
2. Argumentative, by my mom who thinks I don’t let her have the last say in any argument;
3. Assertive, by the litigation resident in my previous office which he actually meant as a compliment;
4. Sarcastic, by a masteral school blockmate who told another blockmate, “Wow, you’re even more sarcastic than Lorie
5. Opinionated, by people I’ve worked with in my previous community; and
6. Mataray, by A. but he said it in jest which was his form of lambing (yiheee!)
But masungit?
Masungit is a word you use to describe Bella Flores, or your math teacher in grade two who made you stand in the corner because you couldn’t give the right answer to 8 x 7=? (I obviously speak from experience. Haha) So when I heard that I was masungit, I immediately asked for factual basis, and he cited that one time I was complaining to someone and I allegedly shouted at that person.
To be honest, I don’t remember shouting during that incident. Maybe I was carried away, maybe I just raised my voice a little, maybe I was being more assertive than usual. So I texted some friends to ask if they think I’m masungit. One said yes, but there’s nothing wrong with that. The other said no, but qualified her answer. Another one said yes, but only when I don’t get what I want. And one said no, in fact I’m the sweetest friend she knows.
And since I knew I’d lose sleep over it if I don’t ask further, I texted the person who told me I was masungit and asked if he was serious when he said that. He said yes, but I can be kind sometimes.
Sometimes?
Fine.
Still not satisfied, I called a friend to discuss it with her (yes, it WAS that big of a deal for me) and we both figured out that there’s assertive, and there’s masungit, and they’re totally different, and I definitely fall under the first category. I was kinda appeased by that, but then when I was about to sleep, I realized that if you end up offending people either way, then the distinction between assertive and masungit doesn’t really matter. Because to them, it’s the same, and you end up being the person who hurts people with your words or your manner of speaking. And I thought, well, I can be a lot of things, but I don’t wanna be that person. Not anymore.
So I promised myself (and God) that I’ll be more patient and gentle now. Even if I don’t get what I want or what I deserve. Even if I’m already seething inside because of the unfairness of the situation. Even if I can enumerate all the causes of action in my head at the sight of an injustice. I will be kind and patient but still make my point without raising my voice.
I’ll change starting today. So that when I look at myself like I did yesterday, I won’t see both sides of me anymore because there’ll be just one side— the kind, gentle, patient, forbearing side.
13 May 2012
Mommy-ing...
1. They learn what they want to, when they want to. Clara has long been an expert in colors. She loves to name all the colors that she sees around her. We've been wanting her to move on to alphabets and numbers and stuff, and when we're not making her she can actually recite them already, but try and make her and she goes, “A...B...schwang...schweng...” Or “One...two..trung...trang...” She seriously speaks this nonsense, I swear. I guess it’s her way of telling us she’s not ready to move on and is content with knowing colors for now. Even if it’s the only thing she knows. Groan.
2. They wield a certain power that is way bigger than their three feet frame. My Tatay wants to catch the News. I wanna see the latest indie film DVD from Quiapo. The littlest lady in the house clamors for Barney. Guess who we end up watching? The purple dinosaur. And it's not even an issue of spoiling your child. It's often a simple matter of giving in to preempt a never-ending tantrum and affording yourself some peace and quiet after a long day at work.
3. They actually grasp the concept of profundities like obsession, love and romance. Clara is fond of declaring, “Obsessed ako sa shampoos, toothpastes, CDs...” She touched my hair one time and asked, “Ganda mommy ko. You have boyfriend in the office?” Maybe I should be preparing for the sex questions next.
4. They can use what you teach them against you. Inay always tells Clara not to touch her food with his hands. So when Ginger the cat scurried thru the room straight to the kitchen table and Inay picked him up Clara screamed, “Wag mo touch si Ginger, Inay! Use your spoon!”
5. They are awfully quick to pick up new words. Clara picked berries from a plant in our garden one time, and I told her to throw them out bcoz they were poisonous. When we got inside, she made a Lego tower, offered it to me and said, “I have a gift for you, Mommy. It's poisonous!”
Or, in relation to #1, you can spend the whole day trying to teach kids to say their names and ages, and all they say is “My name is schwang schweng. I'm trung trang years old.” But try and let slip with one expletive under your breath, and they magically hear it loud and clear and spend the rest of the day sing-songing, “F-ck! F-ck!” or “Sh-t! Sh-t!”
What is it with kids and speed anyway? In the span of time that it takes you to blink an eye they have poured the entire contents of their Moo into your bowl of noodles or torn their nth picture book to shreds. It’s like black magic or something.
6. They're pretty creative even at their early age. They can think up the most colorful excuses out of a sticky situation and the most devious ways to get what they want. So when it's time to brush their teeth, they're going to say, “Sleepy na ko e”, or “Sira wong (read: yung) toothbrush ko”. Or, “Daddy, I love you. Drink ako Coke. Konti lang para hindi ka galit.”
7. They have a clear sense of what they want in life. One day it could be to wear only clothing with Buzz Lightyear in them. Or to listen only to Sam Milby or Sandara Park(s)(?) songs. (At any given time while she's playing you'll hear Clara singing to hemself, “Oh why don't you smile my only star, shine my baby, smile my only star”,
And sometimes they'll even act like they're six feet tall and order their own parents, “No talk!” or “No dance, Mommy!” So much.
8. They're loyal to those they hold dear. So you can take them to Disneyland where they meet Mickey and Winnie and Mulan in the flesh, and guess who they look for? Barney. And you can take them to see a show of dancing sea lions and whales and dolphins, and guess who they call out for? Barney. And you can nurse them till your breasts turn black and blue and guess who they want sleep with? Not you. The purple dinosaur.
9. They can make total strangers fall in love with them at first sight. Which explains why Clara ended up getting free Disney stickers from the Chinese store girl who probably couldn't even understand a word she was babbling about. And why she got a free chocolate-chip cookie from the woman in Chocolate Kiss, when all she did was stand and peer at the glass of cakes.
Why doesn't anyone ever fall in love with me like that? I smile a lot. I will even dance for a free cookie. Dang.
10. They can teach us a thing or two about appreciating what God has blessed us with. There is one thing that Clara never fails to do after she's stripped down for her bath: s she goes around the house, butt-naked and squealing in delight, “Laki pwettt ko!”
And when you come to think of it, it really is a great blessing you should be thankful for at every opportunity. Can you imagine looking down and finding it is no longer there? Disaster.
05 May 2012
Rolling In The Deep
The title of this post has nothing to do with the song, except that I think it’s a cool title for a blog. Haha.
Actually, the Adele song that introduced me to the Adele craze was Someone Like You. My confessor, after telling him last year about my then recent heartache, told me that he remembers me every time he hears that song.
So I googled the lyrics:
Never mind I’ll find someone like you.
I wish nothing but the best for you.
Don’t forget me, I begged, I remember you said.
Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead.
Two things entered my mind when I heard that song:
First, how cool is my confessor?
Second, how cool is this song?
And that explains why it has been MY official soundtrack since. It’s not often that you find a song and get to own its words. More to the point, it’s not often that you find someone you can tell these words to: “Never mind, I’ll find someone like you.” Because usually, out of bitterness, you say that you will find someone better. Or, as one friend puts it, you’d rather say, “Never mind I’ll find someone unlike you.” Only in very rare cases— and mine happens to be one— that you get to walk away from someone still convinced that he would have been perfect given a different set of circumstances.
But going back to Rollin’ in the Deep, I also love that song on behalf of my friends whose hearts have been “played to the beat.” Good men, it seems, are hard to find these days. And even though right now, there’s a possibility that I may have found one, the road to happy ever after is still uncertain.
And so it bears repeating: Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes, it hurts instead.
Actually, the Adele song that introduced me to the Adele craze was Someone Like You. My confessor, after telling him last year about my then recent heartache, told me that he remembers me every time he hears that song.
So I googled the lyrics:
Never mind I’ll find someone like you.
I wish nothing but the best for you.
Don’t forget me, I begged, I remember you said.
Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead.
Two things entered my mind when I heard that song:
First, how cool is my confessor?
Second, how cool is this song?
And that explains why it has been MY official soundtrack since. It’s not often that you find a song and get to own its words. More to the point, it’s not often that you find someone you can tell these words to: “Never mind, I’ll find someone like you.” Because usually, out of bitterness, you say that you will find someone better. Or, as one friend puts it, you’d rather say, “Never mind I’ll find someone unlike you.” Only in very rare cases— and mine happens to be one— that you get to walk away from someone still convinced that he would have been perfect given a different set of circumstances.
But going back to Rollin’ in the Deep, I also love that song on behalf of my friends whose hearts have been “played to the beat.” Good men, it seems, are hard to find these days. And even though right now, there’s a possibility that I may have found one, the road to happy ever after is still uncertain.
And so it bears repeating: Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes, it hurts instead.
01 May 2012
Maldita Moments
It was one of those lunches in the 17th floor. Rhoel asked where I got
the black dress I was wearing, saying I looked nice in it. I told him I
bought it at Maldita. Jon stops in mid-bite and solemnly pronounces
that if there’s one word he can think of to describe me, that would be
it: maldita.
These are the same guys who think I’m the bad side of Hermione, the know-it-all, eager-beaver, self-righteous side. Malk can’t stop laughing when I tell him these things. He says my friends must really love me if they think I’m this evil girl but they put up with me, anyway.
I can count with one hand the people I know who are truly good inside, the kind with no mean bone in their system. But as for the majority of us, we all get nasty thoughts about other people all the time, and we only differ on whether we verbalize these thoughts or not. I belong to the verbal group. I can bite my tongue about things like an unbelievably tacky fashion statement or horrendous grammar that’s enough to make you cry. But I just have to say something to people who are inefficient in their jobs, or who try to put one over other people. Sometimes, I say more than intended and more than needed to set things right and put some people in their place, and I end up feeling quite bad, actually.
When it’s just with friends I don’t bother censoring my speech, so I invariably come up with statements that seem to shock them out of their senses. But then I see amused glints in their eyes, so I guess they share some of my sentiments but are just too nice to admit to harboring the same line of thinking. And if this makes me bad girl, so what? I have nothing about genuinely nice people, but I can’t stand those who just pretend to be, the kind who put on a big smile while talking to you but you just know in their minds they’re sizing you up and concluding you fall short of whatever stupid standards they have. I can just punch these hypocrites in the face.
I digress, as usual. So anyway, that’s how I got my reputation. Rhoel sometimes wonders out loud if my name isn’t spelled b-i-t-c-h. In the three or so years we worked together not a week went by that he didn’t ask me, half-pleadingly, “Why can’t you just be normal?” Normal probably meaning tactful and behaved and who can be counted on to keep her wicked thoughts to herself. But I know he loves me. He turns to me for help (“Lo, bigyan mo nga ng isa”) when something brazenly unjust is about to be done to us by some higher-up in the office. And I am always more than willing to oblige.
These are the same guys who think I’m the bad side of Hermione, the know-it-all, eager-beaver, self-righteous side. Malk can’t stop laughing when I tell him these things. He says my friends must really love me if they think I’m this evil girl but they put up with me, anyway.
I can count with one hand the people I know who are truly good inside, the kind with no mean bone in their system. But as for the majority of us, we all get nasty thoughts about other people all the time, and we only differ on whether we verbalize these thoughts or not. I belong to the verbal group. I can bite my tongue about things like an unbelievably tacky fashion statement or horrendous grammar that’s enough to make you cry. But I just have to say something to people who are inefficient in their jobs, or who try to put one over other people. Sometimes, I say more than intended and more than needed to set things right and put some people in their place, and I end up feeling quite bad, actually.
When it’s just with friends I don’t bother censoring my speech, so I invariably come up with statements that seem to shock them out of their senses. But then I see amused glints in their eyes, so I guess they share some of my sentiments but are just too nice to admit to harboring the same line of thinking. And if this makes me bad girl, so what? I have nothing about genuinely nice people, but I can’t stand those who just pretend to be, the kind who put on a big smile while talking to you but you just know in their minds they’re sizing you up and concluding you fall short of whatever stupid standards they have. I can just punch these hypocrites in the face.
I digress, as usual. So anyway, that’s how I got my reputation. Rhoel sometimes wonders out loud if my name isn’t spelled b-i-t-c-h. In the three or so years we worked together not a week went by that he didn’t ask me, half-pleadingly, “Why can’t you just be normal?” Normal probably meaning tactful and behaved and who can be counted on to keep her wicked thoughts to herself. But I know he loves me. He turns to me for help (“Lo, bigyan mo nga ng isa”) when something brazenly unjust is about to be done to us by some higher-up in the office. And I am always more than willing to oblige.
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