Writings On My Walls

La Vie Boheme

2006-07-24T22:42:00.000+08:00

It was the winter of 2003 and I just came back from my family's christmas holiday from California. It was the first time that I actually felt petrified... because for the first time, I didn't know what was going to happen. I finished my undergrad courses the month before and I was free from the clutches. Somehow, however, I felt like crawling back to the whole world of text books, lectures and crummy dorm rooms. At least I knew where I would stand if I were back. Alas, I couldn't.

It was my first time to rent. I didn't know any better... I was initially quite psyched with the whole concept of being grown up and adult. And I was also about to embark in a mortgage for a car. I was little by little getting pulled into a trap they call "responsibility and obligation." Then again, it didn't seem quite so serious because I still had my college roommate, Ashley. We rented an apartment on Commonwealth Avenue just in front of the T's green line (the B line, to be exact). Our room was on the second floor; nice floor boards, spacious enough for the 2 of us and cream colored walls that looked like they were dying to get repainted over.

It was my closest brush to a bohemian life. Up until this day, I still feel uncertain whether I liked it or not. I did, however, enjoy it. Zooming in on the dangerously low numbers of my bank account and the rising debt incurred by my credit cards... post-college mortem, is it? It felt liberating at first. I had no one but myself to look after and I could do absolutely anything I wanted. I had my whole life ahead of me and it was all mine to live! I knew deep inside though that it's just all a pipe dream. I had to get grounded. At night I would lay in bed trying to sleep, trying not to think of the interview I probably just blew that day, listening to the train making its numerous stop. Ashley would be in the living room finishing up her paper; she was probably looking forward to ending her senior year. If only I can let her know how much it sucks at the other side of the fence. Then again, she probably knows it too.

Those were the slowest three months of my life. It consisted of scrounging for any job that would take me (no thanks to you, 9-11), attending morning masses to satisfy my spiritual thirst (ie. desperation), going on trips to the beautiful Boston public library because purchasing books were a luxury, doing my fair share of contributing to the community by teaching English as a Second Language (ESL) at the Boston Red Cross Center... and surfing Craigslist on a daily basis seeing if anyone would like to dispose of their dear furnitures. At those moments, I realized that I really cannot live life as it flows along. I needed an anchor. I needed to know that I would be okay the next day. I needed to know what I am supposed to be doing the next day. I needed a proper routine... one that I can rely on.

Some two hours ago, I watched the movie rendition of my favorite musical, RENT. Even though the life depicted in the film is light years away from mine... or any aspect of my life... I felt a connection to it. Sure, I was never nearly as broke as they were (though it sometimes felt like it), but not knowing what your next step is going to be can get really scary. When nothing in your life seems to be falling into place. The direction and ambition is there, yes, but the means of getting there is a suspension bridge that has planks threatening to fall off. Tell me, what is there to do?

I was petrified of the unfamiliar and the unknown. I still am.

"Because I'm used to relying on intellect. But I try to open up to what I don't know. No other road, no other day... no day but today..."

The Prodigal One

2006-07-19T12:56:00.000+08:00

My hiatus from writing worked... I've missed it tremendously regardless of the fact that I write full-time now. No, not that kind of writing. The kind of writing that sends people fast asleep if they're not interested in it. And unfortunately, only a handful of people are interested in the kind of writing I do for a living. And even more unfortunate, those people make millions out of the craft I'm currently nurturing. Why can't I be the one to make the millions?

So, yes, I will push myself once again to come back to the shadows and to unload everything locked up in here *points to head* It can get lonely, you know? It can get lonely keeping it all inside. At least even though the wall never talks back, there might just be a slight chance that it's listening. Only because we can never know for sure.

More travelling done for this little one. Nevertheless, I've barely scratched the surface of my life-long dream to walk the grounds of as many continents as possible. Then again, beggars can't be choosers so I'll take these little ones for now... I'm not sure when I'm due to travel again. My short trips to Indonesia and Hong Kong have tickled me enough to plan for a more solid one with loved ones next year. But while that's yet to happen, I'm back to chronicling my life.

Chronicles, indeed... of foolish thoughts and impulsive actions.

Whirl Wind

2006-06-01T12:10:00.000+08:00

It's been a month, more or less, since I even attempted to write. It actually feels more like a decade than a month. It's been a cyclone of experiences -- I've been working, travelling, working some more, meeting up with old friends, with family and working a bit more... and thinking. I've been given a chance to think a lot over the past month. What about? Nothing, really. Just stuff. It's like an insignificant cloud in my mind that just happens to be there.

I went to Bangkok with a girl friend for a long weekend mid-month. It was awesome! Not only because I went to the shopping oasis of Asia but because it signified a big step in my adulthood and finally having the courage to defy something that has always imprisoned me. In the long and short of things, I can finally concede that no one -- not even those closest to me -- can ever ultimately stop me from controlling my life. Sure, they can impinge my decisions and they can tap into my conscience but at the end of the day, the decision is mine. All mine! It's tough having to tiptoe around my own life. And it's especially hard knowing that I'm tiptoe-ing because I want to please everyone surrounding me. It was the worst and best four days of my life.

Barely a week after that, I flew to Manila on business. It was a lonely one... not because I was alone but because I've come to terms with the fact I'll never truly belong there anymore. It's difficult coming to terms with such knowledge because I still consider Manila my home. Somehow, though, it doesn't feel right anymore. I will know the language, the culture, the expectations, everything forever. The loneliness of the place, however, will haunt me. The funny thing is, almost everyone that I still love and care about live there. So why do I feel this way? Is it because the trip emphasized my need to explore and discover new things? Perhaps it wasn't the right time for me to settle yet. Maybe I'm still meant to conquer more... and to climb more mountains.

It was very exhausting though -- physically, mentally and emotionally. I enjoyed coming back to my home country and operating under company expenses but truly there was a price to be paid. My body gave way on my last day. I attribute it to the lack of sleep and rest but hey, I'm not employed to lead a laid back life, right? Hopefully one day, I'd be able to say "It was all worthwhile." Snort!

And there have been those fleeting thoughts about where my life is leading me -- and not the other way around. I thought I've buried those evil thoughts a few years back. Evidently not. And apparently, they regain strength and comes back to hound you like a mofo. I will be a quarter old this year... and it frightens me that I have no master plan. I do, but it seems to be a punch on the moon right now. What do I do if everything falls through? What will become of me? Seemingly, from the outside world at least, I have everything under control. It's just that you have no bloody idea.

And it scares me.

My expenses the past month have absolutely skyrocketed. I've the next few months to recuperate. I don't think of them as losses -- more like gains really -- but still, I need to top up my ailing bank account. And I have to catch up with my inner thoughts. It's been on top of me ever since I've abandoned writing. So hopefully, today, the start of the latter part of the year, I'd be able to gain back my grip on things.

Welcome me back with a bang... Because I'm here to stay.

Sleep

2006-05-02T12:39:00.000+08:00

Sometimes it feels like trudging through mud and glue. So exhausting -- both physically and mentally. As as we get older, it seems like responsibilities and obligations just keep on piling up. Never running out of things to do. I pray that life won't lose its meaning... and for everyone I care about to never stray. It's only at the end that you realize what is most important. Through the everyday dealings, they seem rather trivial -- often we take for granted the presence of our reasons for living.

Every moment that I get where I don't have to deal with worldly things, I just wish to sleep. If only I can sleep forever and never have to open my eyes again. I feel drained, I feel tired. And I especially feel lost. And scared. What if the feelings of dread never stop???

I like the musical laughters that I hear and the smiling eyes that I see. It keeps me grounded... it gives me hope. Perhaps at the end of this long tunnel, there is a light after all. It's just something we all have to go through. But why? What for? Is the light worth seeing and working hard towards?

Having to hurt some people on your way over, will they heal? Will they forgive? Will they understand? And getting hurt by the people most important to you... they're just going through the tunnel as well. You can't blame them now, can you?

I'm tired. I just want to sleep. Because in my dreams, there are no tunnels. All just light.

A Day In The Life Of A Foodie

2006-04-25T23:23:00.000+08:00

Tonight, I found myself eating yam-flavored ice cream using a Chinese bowl and a Chinese soup spoon. Prior to that, I was eating McDonald's chicken nuggets with chopsticks... and I was craving for ice kachang.

Tell me, when did I get so localized?

Admittedly, I do complain about Singapore and how tiny this island is. I whine a lot about the inefficiency and box-type mentalities of people... but I rarely get to describe the magnanimity of the local food here. It's incredible!

I'm a foodie -- it's no secret! But I don't recall loving another cuisine outside my own this much. I don't even like American or Spanish food as much as this; and I came from a colonial country. I like all sorts... Thai, Japanese, Italian, Brazilian, name it! I've eaten it and I've probably enjoyed it. But local Singaporean food... there's something about it that stands out.

I reckon it's the fact that Singapore is a convergence of cultures. A lot of people have the misconception that Singapore is like Hong Kong -- purely Chinese and Oriental. As a matter of fact, Singapore was a part of Malaysia once upon a time. A lot of its culture is derived from the Malays. The official language here is still Malay (and I learned recently that the national anthem is also sung in Malay). Never mind the fact that 70% of the population consists of the Chinese, it's still a very Malay society. Plus there are the Indians too... not to mention the token Indonesians, Filipinos, Cambodians, Thais, etc from neighboring countries. And then throw in all the expats from overseas -- England, France, Italy, Australia, the US, name it; we probably have them here.

Honestly, how can one TINY country contain so much richness? And I'm not talking about material wealth either. Indeed there's a little bit of everything here -- not just culture-wise, but food-wise as well.

If I get asked how to describe local Singaporean food, I honestly wouldn't know how. The first thing I'd probably say is that it's spicy. People here thrive on chili. But other than that, their food is a celebration of many wonderful pieces of culture. It's a mixture of Indian, Chinese, Malay and some European flavors. And best of all, I noticed that people really enjoy their food here. Ironically, the best food aren't the ones found in posh and expensive restaurants. They're actually found in food courts and hawker center stalls. They're the authentic ones! Don't let the cheap prices fool you...

Every night after work, I look forward to dinner. I've been living in this flat for about three months now and my kitchen is still spotless. My pots and pans still have the IKEA sticker emblazoned on them. Not once have I ever cooked in my kitchen. Why should I? I have the best kitchen downstairs, and next to me, and near my work... I'm surrounded by lots and lots of food courts that have some of the country's best food. I can actually get away with not repeating the same dish for two months. Except of course for the occassional cravings for Mickey D's and Subway :P

So yes, I do enjoy Singapore... its food and its orderliness. I don't think I could ever live in another country where all I need is $10 a day in order to survive. Quite amazing, isn't it?

It's getting late... but I have ten minutes to decide whether or not I want beat the closing of the eatery across my flat. Cold sesame paste with tapioca sounds good right now.

Hmmmm.

Why Am I Not Surprised???

2006-04-20T13:27:00.000+08:00

You scored as Winter. You are WINTER. You're more introspective, thinking deeply, feeling deeply. You love nothing better than to enjoy one on one time with those who are important to you. You are cautious, and sometimes second guess yourself. Dreams, though you have them, are a luxury, because life is not a plaything.

Winter

70%

Summer

60%

Fall

60%

Spring

40%

What Season Are You?

Passionately Yours

2006-04-19T22:21:00.000+08:00

Passion -- I hear that word all the time used in various contexts. It's an easy word to say too. Passion. Pa-shun. Pas-yun. Pashon. Pah-shin. Passion. Passion in life. Real passion for. Passionately done. Extremely passionate. Everywhere we see it, we hear it. It's on perfume, for crying out loud! And a fruit is named after it too. And it sounds incredibly similar to something close to women's hearts: fashion. It's one of those words that we spit out liberally because it sounds good.

Do we know what it really is though?

I work ridiculous hours. Something to the tune of 10 to 11 hours a day (on average). I don't mind my job; it's pays the bills after all. And I know for a fact that working long hours (beyond comprehension) is something common. I know of people who practically sleep in the office and go home simply to shower and to catch a few hours in the land of nod. Can you, however, say that all of us have passion in what we do? I think not. Some people do it simply because they have no choice; they have to do it. Others do it because it's what everyone else does. A variety of reasons, really.

Where does passion fit in though?

On a personal note, passion is when you look forward to something. This is not to be confused with something you don't mind doing. You actually have to really cherish this particular something (or someone). It's more than refuge, it's more than relief. And neither is it an obsession. It's something that you want to enrich and learn more from/about. And here's the clincher: it's something that you may possibly not have any kind of return from.

Big names like Michael Jackson, Madonna and Britney Spears -- I'm sure at one point they were all passionate about singing. And they probably still are. Money, however, is part of the equation now though. I'm willing to bet my left arm that the passion has gone down even the slightest notch. Money has the reputation of ruining certain concepts for people. It blinds us, it distracts us. Doing something for money, in theory, makes that thing a job. And a job can only be so fun... up until a certain point.

I had a colleague a few years back who used to play golf professionally. He loved the game; absolutely adored it. After a year of playing pro though, he quit... he reckons that playing for money ruined the game for him. It became a job. It started to drag. And he wanted to save his passion for it... by not playing it for a living.

It's very rare that I meet people who are very passionate about their jobs. Some are passionate about working hard... but it doesn't necessarily equate to loving what they do. And others are, of course, passionate about making money. And this leads us to think that they're passionate about their job but there's really an underlying cause to that seemingly painted picture. See the difference? There's a strand of hair splitting these ideas apart. And more often than not, people can't see it.

Passion is when you do something because you want to. Not because you'll get something out of it... besides 100% pure satisfaction and fulfillment. A mother who works two shifts in order to feed three mouths, and doesn't complain about it... that's passion. A husband who still finds the time in helping his tired wife to keep house after a long day at work... that's passion. A grandmother who will lend her grandson her last few hundred dollars so he that he can buy that car he's always wanted... that's passion.

Passion is unconditional love. Towards someone or towards something.

Passion is when you write your most sincere thoughts even though you know no one is going to read it. It is like creating art even though no one is there to view it. Similar to sports, it becomes passion when you give it your all every single time although no one is watching.

And passion is when you love someone as if you're not capable of getting hurt.

Asiance Magazine

2006-04-17T21:18:00.000+08:00

Woo! Like any Internet addict, what's the first thing I do once I get back home from my 4-hour long flight from Hong Kong? Check my email! And what do I see? A message that my article is up... HURRAH!

Do check it out and leave comments:

http://www.asiancemagazine.com/sex-health/200604_dating_yellowfever.php

I started writing for Asiance Magazine (a magazine geared towards Asian Americans) just last month and this is my first published article with them. It's awesome, I love writing... and I especially love writing for them (keeps my uncolorful life interesting). I'm currently working on my second article; it's just that I've been so busy given my new "career move" and that I've been travelling to and fro Hong Kong to visit my family (this time for the long Easter weekend).

I promise to make it up! I shall neglect this blog never more. Well, in fairness, shopping takes precedence over blog writing ANY DAY! Hong Kong is my shopping paragon *happy sigh* I went there with just a hand luggage... and I had to come back with an uber-sized-luggage that ended up being overweight when I was checking in. Life is grand.

Back to reality now. I have to do some work (yes, tonight!) before I retire for the night. And back to work tomorrow too.

Oh sigh.

Actions With Equal Reactions

2006-04-10T20:30:00.000+08:00

I love rain -- when I'm indoors, that is. In the middle of the night, when I wake up to the orchestra of thunder, wind and strong rain, I snuggle in deeper into my covers and mountains of pillows. I absolutely love it! I don't sleep better than nights like these. It doesn't, however, take me long before I start feeling bad for the unfortunate people who don't enjoy the same luxury as I. Those people out there without a roof over their heads, no means to keep warm and no comfortable bed to lay in... what happens to them in the middle of a stormy night? Then I'd feed bad.

Something similar happened today. Not the rain though. Not quite.

I got word of my semi-promotion today. I say semi because it was a horizontal move as opposed to a directly upward one. It's a better one though; more challenging and more interesting. In other words, an opportunity that I probably wouldn't have been able to obtain if not for the faith and support of my upper management. Truly I am pleased.

The thing is, my director called my mobile last Saturday to give me a premonition about all the drama that happened today. Logic requires a space to be empty before it gets filled... so naturally, someone was evidently going to get sacked. And yes, someone did. My conscience flooded with guilt as I watched my friend get the boot from my desk... I could see her head inside the fish tank that she's sitting in. The expression on my director's face was unreadable though I learned later on that he was able to mince his words quite well. Goodbye to her now, hello to me... as the latest addition to the analytics team. And this is what kills me even more. She has no idea that I'm to replace her. Neither has she any idea that the role was enhanced.

And it's killing me right now thinking that... I could've at least warned her. It must have been horrible walking into the office on a Monday morning not knowing what destiny has in store for you in about an hour. I remember getting laid off from my first job right out of college. Horrible! I was so angry that I wanted to burn the whole place down. I couldn't of course... Then again, no one warned me of what was going to happen.

All just a part of life, right?

May it be enjoying the weather while sleeping or enjoying the high of a promotion or a new opportunity, there's always someone out there who's unfortunately doing the opposite. It happens to everyone; me, you, the lady at the pharmacy, the man running a country, the lad carrying the football trophy, simply everyone! It chooses no one.

Congratulations to me, I guess. Perhaps I ought to be happy while the buzz is still present. Soon enough it'll all fade away... when the 14-hour days begin, when the lunch breaks vanish and when the papers pile up.

Again, whoop tee doo!

Speak No Evil

2006-04-07T21:44:00.000+08:00

Neutrality is perfectly possible. But is it synonymous to indifference? I'm not quite sure.

I have my own beliefs and philosophies, yes, but I'm rather accepting and tolerating when it comes to other people's views. The reason? Respect. I'm a devout Catholic but it doesn't mean I can't indulge in a relationship with a non-Catholic. Or, being pro-life doesn't stop me from being best friends with someone pro-choice. Or, the fact that I marry for love won't hinder me from having coffee with someone who marries for money.

Mutual respect. That's what everything is about. Unless of course, one commits a deed perfectly sinful and immoral... like molesting children (for one). Then we're painting an absolutely different picture here.

A few weeks ago, I was getting dinner takeaway from one of the food courts near my flat. There was this old Chinese man standing in the middle of the food court, perhaps deciding what to buy, and he was wearing a bright yellow dress adorned with lovely bright flowers. And he was sporting oversized and trendy glasses. He didn't seem femininely kept though. His hair still shaped in a manly fashion, short and cropped, and his legs still were still covered with curly hair. It was as if he had no intentions of passing himself as a lady at all. Odd? Yes, terribly. Wrong? Not at all. I told you, I respect everyone's philosophies -- and this includes self-expression.

I spotted a few kids nearby sniggering at the sight. The old man remained untouched and stolid. He was probably used to it. A handful of men were talking about him in Mandarin ("Hen qi guai de lao ren")... I knew enough words to actually decipher it. And some people were calling him gay.

This is where I think people got it horribly wrong.

Gay or homosexual people are people who are attracted to their own gender. They have no qualms about being a particular gender though. Transexuals are people who feel very strongly about being the opposite gender (just being trapped in the wrong body). Their issue isn't about gender orientation (not always anyway)... but it's more of an internal conflict. An identity crisis, if you may. The old Chinese man in a yellow dress is a cross dresser; there's no assurance that he's gay or not. He may or may not like men; he simply enjoys wearing women's clothes. He gets a natural high from it... the same way that I get a natural high from wearing gorgeous stiletto knee high leather boots.

I've been to Bangkok a few times -- the transexuals capital of the world. This is how scary it is: there are some women whom you wouldn't think were men once. It wouldn't even occur to you! They've gotten the process down to a science over there. Some of them even look better than real women, for chrissakes! I noticed, however, that not all of them were attracted to men. Not all of them were even looking for male partners (of course, there are the quintessential cases where they go through the operation so that they can earn money with their bodies). It's more of a self-fulfillment thing. They feel happier, they feel more confident. And they should! They're eff-ing gorgeous!

Anyway, my point is, instead of judging people for who they are, learn about them a bit. Maybe you'd understand better. The human mind can be quite feeble... especially the unexposed ones. What if people started making fun of you because you were a straight male wearing the proverbial jeans and t-shirt? Who's to say what's normal or not? Because it's not something that everyone does? Pssh, if that's the case then why don't we all just work 9-5 jobs trapped inside cubicles and watch our lives waste away? People are different. And that's what makes people interesting.

There will always be people contesting your judgments, opinions, beliefs and mentalities. It's called debate and argument. It doesn't have to be the unfriendly yelling type nor the microwave-throwing/hair-pulling kind. It's an exchange of ideas. It gets your mind rolling... it's good for you. I just despise it when people shove their opinions down my throat. So what if I think of the Bible as mere literature? Does it hurt you in any way? So what if I believe in spanking my future kids as a form of discipline? Unless you're my husband, then don't tell me what to do.

Respect. If you want it for yourself, you've to learn to give it.

Coming back to my question, maybe neutrality isn't very easy to accomplish. Neutrality towards an issue, that is. One can be indifferent towards something; when there's disinterest... but neutrality is difficult to achieve. As long as there's passion (as long you take some kind of side), neutrality is an impossibility. It is, however, possible to be fair despite your own strong beliefs.

And it's by being respectful of others.

Banyo

2006-04-06T15:49:00.000+08:00

Well, well, well... my bathroom eh? I can't say I've ever done this before. Tilda, this one's for you!

1. Body soap?

I use Johnson's Baby Milk Wash. You'd find that I use lots of baby products for a few reasons a) it's what I've been using as a kid and I just can't be bothered to change brands b) it has the least impurities because babies' skin are very sensitive and c) they come in these huge bottles so I don't have to keep on buying it over and over.

2. Face wash?

I used to use Clearasil. I would buy them in bulk in CVS in the US but I've recently run out (actually, my sister took them by mistake when she moved) so I've gone back to Neutrogena Liquid Wash. Clearasil is, however, available here in Singapore but I find the texture and consistency to be quite different.

3. Shampoo?

Pantene all the way! But for conditioner, I use the Pantene Moisturizing Mask. My hair is so long and so thick that normal conditioner doesn't cut it anymore... And once a week, I would bathe my hair in Brazil Nut Hair Mask (from the Body Shop) for 12 hours. Yes, I sleep with a shower cap on.

4. Moisturizer?

During the day, L'oreal with SPF 50 (underneath my make-up). At night, I either use Clinique or Neutrogena.

5. Cologne/Perfume?

I'm not really a perfume person. If I must use it, I use this perfume oil I bought from the Body shop called Anais. Or I use Clinique Happy. Otherwise, I just splash on Johnson's Baby Cologne. I kid you not, I love that stuff... I've been using it forever. It's the best when it's really hot (like uhm, out here in Asia) and you pour it all over your arms, neck and shoulders. And it's cheap! You can afford to do that five times a day!

6. Deodorant/Anti-perspirant?

Block-and-White, a local brand in the Philippines. Again, this is something that I have to shop for in bulk. If not, I use Dove.

7. Toothpaste?

Uhm, whatever's around? Colgate, I guess? But right now I'm using Aquafresh only because it was on sale when I went to the pharmacy to buy some toothpaste ;)

8. Mouthwash?

It's called water.

9. Razor?

Gilette for ladies. I bought these only because I liked the color :P

10. Shaving cream?

I actually don't use shaving cream. I use the Pantene Moisturizing Mask that I also use as a conditioner. See? What a great product! A conditioner, a treatment mask and shaving cream! I use it because it keeps the skin soft while shaving.

11. Aftershave?

Uhm... I'd be worried if I started using one.

12. Missed anything?

Taking off make-up! I've quite a routine. I use the Clearasil facial wipes to get rid of most of the stuff, then I use Shu Uemura Purifying Water to cleanse off what's left, then wash my face (as abovementioned) and finally, use Clinique Clarifying Lotion 2 as a final touch. Once a week, I'd use the Clinique Hydrating Mask and the Clinique 7-day scrub.

Holy crap... I'm such a girl!!!!!!!!

13. Whose bathroom shall we raid next?

Tatin of La Maquilleuse (ooh this is going to be interesting) and Nikki of Really Sleeping. Fess up, girls! And Bear, if you decide to start a blog, I'm tagging you too!

That was actually fun... it never occurred to me how much stuff I had in my bathroom. Only if someone would start a survey on how much make-up girls have! Now THAT would be fun.

Wonderful Tonight

2006-04-05T21:54:00.000+08:00

Every night while I drink my tea, I look out my balcony to watch life unfold in front of me. It's the closest that I get to feeling like deity watching over my creation. Only nothing is my creation. I'm a mere observer.

When I look down from the 10th floor, I see people the size of my pinky running for the bus while yelling in a foreign language (and yet somehow I know they're not-so-nice words), parents trying to keep their children from chasing stray cats, hawkers making an honest living and the like. When I look up, far and beyond, I see the buildings scraping the heavens -- the Singapore skyline. Through the colorful lights that glimmer from these structures, I can almost see overworked and tired executives trying to meet deadlines and targets. I can hear them sigh all the way from my little Chinatown abode.

Opposite spectrums of life and yet the same frustrations in life. Everyone goes through the same things... no matter how much you earn, whether or not you have a leather seat at work or what mode of transportation you take on the way home. We are all here to pass the same trials and obstacles. It's just that we're given different environments to work in.

That's life. And it's beautiful even amidst its ugliest moments because we know we'll get through it one day. In flying colors too. And one day, we'll be up there on some great balcony watching people going through everyday activities just like we once did... and we'll be sipping equally great tea.

Until that happens, I'll settle for my balcony on the 10th floor. Tonight though... tonight is a wonderful night to watch life yet again. With my apple crumble tea.

Memoirs Of A Teeny Bopper

2006-04-03T20:59:00.000+08:00

Call me extremely out of it or living under a rock but I just found out today that Jonathan Brandis committed suicide in 2003. At 27 years old. That's bloody young! And no one knows what provoked him to do so. Now, why am I writing about this? Did I like him? Did I think he was hot?

Nope. Well, maybe a little.

He was, however, an embodiment of my teen years. He was a fixture on TeenBeat, Tiger Beat, Bop and the like. And I was perennially blowing my allowance on those... not because of him really, but because of Rider Strong (I'll save details of this nasty confession for later on). I watched most of Jonathan Brandis' movies from Lady Bugs to Sidekicks... and even some episodes of SeaQuest DSV. Nevermind the fact that I thought the show was horrid. I watched it purely because I wanted those pages of TeenBeat to come to life.

Even though I grew up in a country that is notorious for colonial mentality, I didn't feel that they aired enough American shows/sitcoms. We had the proverbial ones: Beverly Hills 90210, Melrose Place, Saved By The Bell, zzz zzz zzz! In other words, those that were a sure hit. I didn't get to watch Boy Meets World, Home Improvement, Seinfeld, etc until later on... when I outgrew my TeenBeat phase and moved on to bigger and better things.

I got hooked on Britpop... and I eventually traded my black-and-white (with a splash of pink thrown into it) magazines for the fully colored and glossy Top Of The Pops and Smash Hits. I fluttered off to another continent and quickly became absorbed by Boyzone, Take That, 911, East 17, even the BackStreet Boys (only because they got big in Europe first before the US), etc. I wasn't into movies and tv shows anymore. I mean, come on, everyone knows that the UK isn't the brightest when it comes to producing movies and tv shows. But the music -- man! My CD collection doubled exponentially!

Anyway, I digress.

As I was saying... the death of Jonathan Brandis. It did came as a shocker despite the 0.5-second mention of his death on E! today. It made me realize that even though it was only 12 years ago that I was flipping through TeenBeat and putting up pin-ups and posters, it actually seems like a hundred years ago. People move on, people finish school, people get jobs, people get married, people have families... and people die. No matter how solid your past had been and no matter how bright your future seems, there's really no escaping reality that some people just feel too sad to live. People have natural rose-tinted glasses when looking at other people's lives... only because they don't know how it really is. And usually, there's only one person who knows the real deal. And that's the person who keeps the secret; the same person living the life.

I pray fervently that no one close to me would have to experience this kind of tragedy. For someone to ultimately lose hope, it must have been an experience that didn't happen overnight. You don't just decide to feel depressed like you'd decide "Oh, I think I want to be blonde... or maybe a red head." It's serious funk. Admittedly, there had been times when ending my life seemed very tempting (NOTE: I am not suicidal, I'm just stating a fact) but I know at the end of the day, I will never do it. Not for any deep or philosophical reasons but because of the anticipation of my death. It'll absolutely kill me. I'm not afraid of death, I'll tell you that. It's a natural thing; if it's our time, then it's our time. But suicide is forcing the issue... knowing that I'm going to die and waiting for myself to die are concepts that my psyche just rejects. What if I don't die? What if I do some serious damage on my body... and I have to live with it? Ingesting some poisonous matter but just enough to ruin my digestive tract as opposed to killing me? Even in dying, I'd be a failure.

Imagine what that kind of thinking would do to a suicidal person's self-esteem?

Pssh.

That's just me though. I'm very shallow when it comes to these things. I'm sure, out there, there are tons of people who desperately want their lives to end regardless of what may happen. And I know mere talk of hope and faith sometimes doesn't help. Some wounds are just way too deep. I pray that they may find strength in themselves and in their support circles.

Dying won't make things easier. Sure, it will end your miserable life on earth but what makes you think that life on the other side isn't worse? I mean, hel-lo? Satan? That son of a bitch? He can make your life even more miserable than a turtle turned on its backside.

To Jonathan Brandis: Eternal rest grant unto him and let perpetual light shine upon him.

Now that it's established he's officially gone... whatever did happen to Jonathan Taylor Thomas (aka JTT), Will Friedle, Rider Strong and them people? Please don't tell me they hung themselves too.

Taxing Tax

2006-04-01T11:13:00.000+08:00

For the first time in my life, I was able to file my taxes within 5 minutes -- literally! And migraine-free!

As I've always mentioned to family and close friends, even though I had to swallow a 50% paycut when I came to Singapore, I actually still end up making more than what I used to take hom back in Boston. The reason? TAX! Or lack thereof...

Yes, ladies and gentlemen... I do not have to pay any taxes here in Singapore. And yes, I have a really crappy salary. But who cares? It's all mine, mine and mine! The government doesn't have any fingers on it. And moreso, they have this super efficient system of filing for taxes. I no longer have to see overpriced accountants or sacrifice a whole night just to fill up forms. Nope, nope and nope!

Jealous?

Yeah, I would be too. I really hate filing (and paying) for taxes with a passion. I especially hate it that they take it out of your paycheck automatically. At least over here, they have the decency to let you enjoy your full paycheck... and they'll just whack you when tax season looms in. I can imagine how much that can hurt though.

April 15 -- Global Annoyance Day!

The Art Of Wasting Time

2006-03-30T11:15:00.000+08:00

If I were to be stranded in an island for the rest of my life, and I could only have one thing with me, I would say: the Internet. And a superduper fast connection with that.

Yes, I'm the master of wasting time. I can keep myself entertained... and I've to say, I do a damn pretty good job of it. My mother never had to worry about me as a child. For a time, my family was pretty convinced that I was autistic. If not only for my constant babbling. Aaah, childhood splendor!

How I prented to look busy / What I do online:

1) Google

Forget Friendster. I google absolutely everything and everyone. I love doing this... which leads me to believe that I'm going to be an ace stalker if the situation calls for it. I've mastered the art of digging things up about different matters and by damn, am I proud of it! Woo!

2) Wikipedia

This is the secondary google for me. When I'm intrigued with something... or simply feeling like a dork... I'd go to this site and scout for articles. The most interesting one, by far, is when I put "vibrators" on the search bar and found myself engrossed in its most colorful history. Who would've known??? Where was this when I was a student -- laboring over research in the musty library?

3) Dictionary.com

Yes, yes, yes, I know... quit throwing stones at me, for chrissakes! I'm a geek like that. I find magnificence in new words and I insist on knowing what each and every new word I encounter with means. And to make matters worse, I have signed up for the "new word a day" email. It's a good way to feel superior ;) Knowing insignificant words like "paterfamilias" and "plutocratic."

4) Blog surfing

Because I'm nosy by nature... this is the next best thing to eavesdropping and gossipping. You get it first hand from the writer herself/himself! This is how I do good deeds -- I feed everyone's narcissism by reading about their life. Well, ultimately, because everyone's life seems to be much more interesting than mine.

5) Checking emails

Just like a hypochondriac in a doctor's examination room, I check my emails every ten seconds (five when I'm bored) hoping against hope that for once, I won't get anything that asks if I want to perform better in bed, if I want to lose 1,000,000 pounds in a week, if I want to make oodles of money from staying home and sitting on my lazy ass, and if I want to sign up for XYZ. Sigh!

6) Instant messenger

Don't be fooled... I don't have that much people on my IM lists anymore. Not like in college, whoa, everyone in my school was on my list. And I don't recall using the phone much. I would talk to my roommates on IM! Now, I'd be lucky to see more than five people on my list... it's easier to bug them though because you have less of them to bug :D You can really focus on your mission to get them to talk back to you. Hence, my IM days still go on!

7) Blog updating

Yep, I need people to feed my narcissism too. Hey, scratch my back too, won't ya?!?! I like rambling on and on about the mush that goes on in my head... and presenting it as pieces of literature. Just make sure you use proper punctuation and big words that you can find in Thesaurus.com :)

8) Downloading MP3s

And it's not the type that you pay for either... ;)

9) Online shopping

Actually, I lie... more like online drooling. I window shop a lot on Ebay and Amazon. It's self-inflicted pain, really. Because I know I really don't need half the stuff I usually shop for, I've decided to put down new rules. If a) I won't die without it b) it costs more than three lunches and c) I can wait until I win the lottery... then I won't buy it. The thing is, with argument b, it becomes quite tough because I can technically buy lunch for $2 over here. Sucks!

So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. That is how I can survive just being in my apartment for one weekend without having to leave (except to buy those $2-lunches from below my flat). And that's how I can forgo cable TV and physical human interaction.

I'm sure I do way more than this though. I'll update it as I go along.

Tuesdays With Lia

2006-03-28T11:54:00.000+08:00

In my opinion, Tuesdays are the worst days of the week. It's too far from the weekend... and it's not quite Monday, so whining about having to wake up and trudge to work isn't as effective.

It's a vicious cycle: wading through the weekdays like it's glue, phlegm and mud put together; then the weekends pass like a blur. Just when Friday night looms in, the next thing you know is that it's already Monday morning. And your mind just blows over thinking about having to go through the damn routine all over again.

You notice that you rarely remember what happens over the weekend? Hmm...

And in smaller phases, it's about living for lunch times, tea breaks, cigarette breaks and then the commute after work. What really happens in between is beyond me. I simply try to fill in work hours with as much productivity as possible to avoid looking at the clock... and notice how the second and minute hand seems to be moving slower than usual.

Sigh. Is life supposed to be like this? It's not very motivating, is it?

Finding something that I'm passionate about -- easier said than done, darling. Finding something that I'm passionate about and getting paid for it -- I will need four lifetimes worth of good karma to hit this one.

Oh well.

Prophets and Losses

2006-03-27T12:16:00.000+08:00

I rarely speak about religion though I would probably rate my devoutness to Catholicism above average. I just don't believe in imposing it on anyone especially since I've gotten aware that everyone has incredibly different views about it (especially after having lived abroad for quite a while now). Growing up in a dominantly Catholic society, religion is as common as school work -- it's something that everyone has. Sure, there are people who are more impartial to it than others but it's still an issue that's widely accepted.

For me though, it's still something of utmost importance. I put God above all others (or I'd like to think so at least). It's a very personal choice as well... and unless it's brought up, I tend to keep it to myself. It's between me and my God, methinks.

Of course, there would be instances wherein I would question the whole concept of it. Just like growing up with a language, I've been trained to accept and absorb ideas. I learn about it, yes, but it was only towards the latter part that I've begun raising questions (when I knew enough about it to actually question it). It's tough learning much about it when everyone's rooting for the same team though. I find that this limits views and perceptions.

Hence it's very natural for me to be curious about other religions. I've met people from a vast variety of faiths... Buddhists to Muslims to Atheists to other sects of Christianity, etc. And I believe that it is through knowing these counter-religions that make my faith even stronger. Not once have I ever doubted my God even though questions were posed as attacks and doubts. Several times I would have to defend certain doctrines and dogmas... and these are the ones that require a deeper knowledge rooted in Catholicism. I don't blame people for questioning them. After all, it took thousands of years for Catholicism to reach where it is now.

More than religion in itself, I also look at Catholicism as history. It's been a huge part of civilization... and with it comes various forms of art and literature. It influences not only our faith but other aspects of life as well.

It's through little (and of course, big) miracles that keep me holding on to my beliefs. There really is no concrete evidence to prove that God exists. Miracles, though, are very subjective. They can be anything from occurrences that can't be explained by science or incidents that make one truly boggled out of their heads. Again, it's a very personal thing.

Yesterday, however, I experienced something quite out of the ordinary. Because I neglected to go to mass last weekend, I was prepared to not receive communion. I could only do so until I've received the sacrament of confession. And I'm aware that the local church I go to only holds confessions on Saturday afternoons. But as I knelt down to say my pre-mass prayers, I noticed that the confessional box's light is on... there was a priest in there offering confession to anyone. I scratched my head and reached for the church newsletter. There it is: Confessions are held on Saturdays at 4:30-5:30pm. How uncanny! I figured it was probably a mistake. I mean, come on, it was a light bulb. Someone probably knocked it on or something. But no, a lady went in the confessional box and didn't come out until three minutes later. Hmmm... Needless to say, confession was being held. I fell in line more quickly than I thought "Maybe I should go..."

After saying my penance, I made a silent prayer of thanksgiving to God... thanking Him for the miracle He pulled just so I could take communion during mass that day. For some, it might be the proverbial occurence of coincidence. For me, it was a miracle... and a reminder that God is looking after me. It was Him tapping on my shoulders saying "Hey there, don't you owe Me something?" With His usual goofy smile.

He does that once in a while. He sends not-so-subtle hints to draw me back. Some of them enough to convince me that He's punishing me... though as time unfolds, it turns out to be better for me. And others just to make me feel sheepish. It keeps me together though -- both as a person and as a Catholic.

Quite a few people have asked me if I feel forced into the religion just because I'm Filipino... and that it's part of my culture. Sure, the influence is quite strong but think about it: If I were so forced into it, would I still bother going to Church every Sunday and observing holy days of obligation?

Let me do a non-secular analogy: If you were so forced into doing a job that doesn't pay anything or doesn't benefit you in any way... would you keep on doing it?

I didn't think so...

Monday Madness

2006-03-27T07:18:00.000+08:00

Some idiot's car downstairs has its alarm going off for about twenty freakin' minutes now... and no one's doing anything about it. Pissing me off! It's too early for this man!

Knockin' Down The Door

2006-03-25T06:25:00.000+08:00

It's like lighting striking on a sunny day. Totally out of the blue.

The past few days had been an ultimate rut for me. I had an article to write and though the will was there, the content just wasn't following. Do you know how it is when you just keep going even though you know your work is worse than mediocre? And you keep at it in the hopes that it'll eventually get better? Well, that's what I did. And no, it didn't get any better. As a matter of fact, it blew!

But then my muse came pounding on my door with a baseball bat. How happy I was! Welcome back, my darling!

Leaping from my couch in the middle of watching Still Standing on Star World, I landed on the chair of my dining table where my laptop is set up. Prior to that, I was miserably procrastinating by doing my laundry, washing my hair, watching a DVD and making an unwanted dinner. It felt like being back in university; the night before a dreaded mid-term. That's when everything just poured out of me like water from a broken dam. It was glorious, it was divine! The mental anguish that I was going through was deliciously painful.

After what seemed like two minutes (but in reality was two hours), I had, in front of me, my modest masterpiece. It wasn't my best work yet... but the fulfillment was overwhelming. After several false starts, I have finally broken through. And right now, that's what matters. I could care less if it doesn't get printed or published. It's simply about fighting with my devils... and I won!

Bastards!

I slept like a baby on Nyquil after that.

Wish List

2006-03-17T13:43:00.000+08:00

I wish...

- For Singaporeans to walk faster especially in crowded areas. And for them to eff-ing stop walking in groups especially when the walkway is narrow!

- For my employers to realize that I'm probably the most underpaid person in the whole wide world... even though they know that I'm partially responsible for keeping the workplace together.

- For people to stop talking about themselves for just two minutes and actually listen to other people.

- For the world to stop complaining altogether (me included!)

- For my paycheck to magically change the currency symbol to GBP rather than SGD (ahh, splendor!).

- For the day to have 32 hours instead of 24... and dedicate the extra 8 hours to sleeping.

- For coffee to stop getting more and more overpriced.

- For people to realize how ridiculous it is that Hollywood actors and fashion models make more money than teachers, firemen, social workers and every other person with a more important job.

- For everyone to stop asking me if I'm American, Australian, British or Canadian. Hel-lo people! Can't you see the black hair and the chinky eyes?

- For me to get at least one of these wishes to come true.

Unglam, Unfashionista

2006-03-16T09:05:00.000+08:00

I was at the tender age of eleven when I had my first major fashion faux pas.

You have to understand, I was one of those girls who were always too tall, too big and too awkward. I ought to give my mother an award for being able to dress me at all. I was twice the size of most of my peers... and having grown up in Asia, looking for clothes for me was personal hell. I was too big for the children's section but I'm too young for the junior apparels. What to do what to do...

My mother balked at me one day when she saw me bounding down the stairs wearing a red and white striped t-shirt, an orange pair of shorts (it was the closest thing I had to red), a belt with a hideous floral pattern on it and plaid Keds sneakers (hey those happened to be cool back then!). We were supposed to go to the mall to shop for school supplies. I think she pitied me more than she was shocked at my fashion sense.

"Do you realize you're wearing four different patterns in your outfit?" she said sardonically. "You could absolutely stop traffic with that."

At that time, of course, I didn't know what was wrong with my outfit. I was wearing my best clothes... I guess they just didn't mesh well with each other. THAT particular time in my life was the beginning of my fashionista days. My wallet saw no end to shopping. I thank God that I was sent to Catholic school where I had to wear a uniform every single day.

What's worse than your mother commenting on your outfit? When you realize that she's actually right...

And when that happens, something needs to be done.

Trimming the Fat -- Not!

2006-03-16T04:36:00.000+08:00

I always feel that I'm missing out whenever people pour out their enthusiasm for exercising and going to the gym. I never understood why and how anyone could specifically set hours of their time just to beat themselves up with some machine that looks complicated enough to devour you.

Seriously, how fun can it be to walk on a treadmill or be on a stationary bike... when you clearly know that you're not going anywhere? Ever. Even if you do walk or pedal faster. Let's not even get on a discussion about the rowing machine. And what's this about lifting weights? Just go shopping and carry loads of filled up paper bags AND then walk around the mall for hours. You'll be getting the same workout FOR FREE! And you get to see tons of wonderful sights! Going out on a limb here (as everyone knows how much I'm NOT of a nature person), what's wrong with walking around the park while carrying loads of bags or a few gallons of water? Afraid of looking ludicrous? Well, think about it, do you actually look attractive when you use the leg equipments? Like those that are supposed to tone your thighs by parting them repeatedly while pulling weight? My colleague has coined it "the vagina machine" for a reason...

Yeah and another thing. Paying good money to get tired? I don't know about you but... WHY WOULD YOU ALLOW YOURSELF THAT? The stairmaster? What's wrong with walking up and down the stairwell of your apartment building?

I just found out that every Wednesday, free open air workout sessions in the central business disctrict are sponsored by Fitness First. I think it's a brilliant marketing idea for the gym company... but as part of the consumer market, I will never ever subject myself to such humiliation. Why would I want to be in the middle of the square sweating my pores out and looking totally unglam... while 70% of the Singaporean population is passing by making their way toward the underground station?

A few years ago, I actually gave this whole gym business a plan. I coughed up US$50 a month for a membership in the gym next door to my place. The fact that it's right next door didn't keep me from taking my car over. So I went every afternoon for half an hour. Then it became every other afternoon for an hour. Then it dwindled down to every other afternoon for half an hour... until winter loomed in and I just got too lazy to go at all. Then I decided to forego the membership and save myself the money. Who was I kidding? I will never go back to that dungeon of sweaty and masochistic bodies. Pssh.

It's quite similar to cleaning out the closet and refusing to part with old clothes. If I'm not wearing them now, what gives me the idea that I'll be changing my mind one or two years down the road?

People still insist that I ought to try exercising again. They claim that it'll give me more energy (hel-lo, it makes me tired just looking at the equipment that I have to spend eternity on just to burn 100 calories); it helps overcome stress (yeah, okay... cough!); and it's fun (HA bloody HA!). You can't even pay me enough money to drag myself to the gym... what makes you think that I'm actually willing to maintain the habit?

I just say "Hey, I respect that you're a big gym bimbo... err, I mean, gym buff. Just respect that I'm not. And that I'd rather be a giant blob on the floor and be obtrustive and annoying to everyone."

Hold on, don't I do that already?

'Til Death Do Us Part

2006-03-14T04:36:00.000+08:00

"It's easier to be a widow than to be a widower," one of my colleagues stated matter of factly.

I totally choked on the tea that I was drinking when I heard this from him. Him being a guy in his late thirties, very soft-spoken and very very very very very nice. He's so nice that he usually doesn't give out his own opinion. Ironically though, he does currency analysis for a living -- which means he gives out his own opinion regarding the direction of the economy. Every. Single. Day. Probably another one of God's jokes to mankind.

"It's true," he insisted, offering me some water and some tissue paper. "Men have difficulty expressing their emotions" -- altogether ladies: DUH! -- "so when they lose their life partner, it gets to be really difficult."

See, if just any guy would have told me that, I probably would have thought he was just saying it for the sake of saying it. But no, this is coming from a guy who rarely volunteers anything that comes from his head. He's really nice. His wife is really lucky to have him... he's also the type to open doors for you and to always offer his help even in situations where he knows he can't do anything to help.

My parents had a similar conversation about each other's death a few years ago. It wasn't very pretty because my dad opined that if my mum went ahead of him, he'll simply go back to his province and spend the remainder of his time there. My mum, evidently, didn't like this because she wanted him to stay in our current home and live there because she feels that they've worked so hard to acquire. It has become a legacy for them... a symbol of their life together.

While I don't think that any of them were wrong, I understood why my dad said that. My dad was never really one to speak up (unless he feels unusually strongly about a certain issue). I'm not sure if this is due to the fact that my mother is just (extremely) strong-headed or that he's just smart enough to not go against her. I, however, reckon that my dad will have a harder time coping with my mother's loss primarily because of the abovementioned reason: that he doesn't express himself enough. I'm sure he has his own methods but I somehow wish that we were more involved in it. We, his children, are still learning to read him... and everyday, there's always something new to learn about him. I feel that as we get older, he deems us more trustworthy of his thoughts and feelings.

My mother, on the other hand, is an open book. Actually, that's quite an understatement. She's an open book with multi-colored highlighted lines and lots of dog-eared pages. She always makes sure that everyone knows what she's thinking and feeling... especially when she's not pleased. She's a terrible liar. Her lies just fall out of her eyes. She's also good at guilt-tripping (I'm convinced that this comes with the maternal instinct package that mothers automatically receive once their pop their first-born).

The fact that I know that my mother will be shattered into talcum powder if (knock on wood) my dad goes first... goes to show that she'll be fine. It's because I KNOW. My dad, I have absolutely no idea. He'll be less obtrusive in his kids' lives but we'll never really know what's going on up there *points to his head* and truth be told, that scares me.

Secrets scare me. Nevermind that this statement comes from a person full of secrets herself. I like knowing what's going on... and what's going to happen. I like being kept in the loop. What they say about what you don't know doesn't hurt you -- bollocks! It simply gears you to get even more hurt once you find out the truth. And trust me, the truth ALWAYS comes how somehow... whenever it may be. And no matter how distant you are from the truth (time-wise and geographically), IT WILL STILL HURT.

Anyway, I digress.

I hope that I won't have to find out the truth about whether or not it's easier to be a widow any time in the near future. It's a very sad thing to think about. Losing a life partner -- a best friend -- must be indescribably tough. It's just one of those things that just happens.

I no longer have living grandfathers. My maternal grandma has outlived her husband for almost twenty five years now; my paternal one is on her fourteenth year of widowhood. I don't know how they do it... but I surely admire them for carrying on with so much strength and courage.

May God bless them both.

Page Master

2006-03-12T15:53:00.000+08:00

There truly is something magical about books.

Although I admit that I read mostly trashy novels that feed my need for mush rather than intellectual nourishment, I can still qualify for a classic bookworm. I have hoardes of books on my shelves and it doesn't take me more than a few hours to fly through one (granting, of course, that the plot actually interests me). Reading transports me to a place away from my real life... and right into someone else's. Going through someone else's pain and problems and eventually reaching the resolution leaves me sighing in content as I flip through the last leaf of the book.

In other words, it distracts me from my own life... and my own sets of pain and problems.

Because my life plot doesn't have a definite ending unlike the characters that I read in my books, it makes me feel better knowing that just like them, I will reach my own resolutions. When? I don't know. But I know for sure that I'll get there somehow. The feeling is ephemeral, of course, but allowing me to feel the satisfaction even for a few hours makes it all worthwhile.

I don't remember when I decided that I would love reading. But I'm glad I did. I can't imagine life without books. Novels last longer than movies, I reckon. And best of all, there's something about written literature that movies can't quite capture. The details that are lost in visual media are usually the ones that make all the difference.

I declared last night to be an introverted night for me. I went to visit the public library (called the NLB for National Library Board) to check out the place. I've been meaning to do it but I just never really found the time. Going to the library on a Friday night isn't exactly the wildest thing, I know. I'm quite aware of that fact.

Fortunately, living in the heart of the city, the library was quite near my flat. Entering the glass doors, I gawked at the place. It was very modern and sophisticated... it stands in competition with the best university libraries in the US. It was nothing like the grand Boston Public Library that I used to frequent. Everything was so clean, so orderly and so... white. Yes, white. The white-painted walls made the place look really bright. It was love at first sight.

The selections of books were quite inferior though. But I guess that didn't really come as a surprise (as resources here don't flow as freely as they do in the US)... I was actually expecting it. It was, however, good enough. They had enough to satisfy my craving. Just like having a fulfilling dinner at a good restaurant, I have an odd feeling that I'll be no stranger to the place. It's a good place for reprieve.

For a start, it's cheaper than hanging out in Borders. I don't have to buy any books... and neither do I have to buy any overpriced coffee if I decide to stay and read for more than an hour.

If given a choice, I would give up my precious cable box that's sitting on top of my TV in a heart beat... if it means giving up reading books altogether. That's just too harsh.

After all, you can't pause or put down a TV show or movie -- unless you're privileged to have TiVo.

Then I'd be really jealous.

2006-03-11T15:28:00.000+08:00

Fifty-Fifty

The ability to achieve peace and balance between spending time with one's partner and friends is undoubtedly attainable.

Hogwash, I tell you.

No such thing.

One party is bound to suffer; may it be the latter or the former. The main fundamental in (seemingly) healthy relationships is understanding... again, by either parties. And respect. Either the circle of friends or the partner would have to understand and respect a person's decision to allocate his or her own time.

It's like the bollocks of the cliche "We have a 50-50 relationship, we give and take."

Though I believe in give-and-take relationships, I don't reckon that it's ever 50-50. Once, I had a conversation with a 70-year-old widow who spoke the most beautiful words:

"My husband and I," she started as I noticed that she still sported her fading gold wedding band on the third finger of her left hand. It gave life to her bony and shaky hands. "Our relationship worked out because our relationship wasn't 50-50. There were times when it was 90-10 and there were times when it was 10-90. Never 50-50. The key to it was that we took turns in making sacrifices for each other. And the sacrifices made were never equal... some small, some big, some significant and some not. But we never thought anything of it. Because we understood."

I adopt the same idea with regards to dividing one's time between a partner and friends. It's never 50-50. The only reason how it can work out is if a) the partner understands the value of personal space and b) the friends understand the intimacy between the couple and their need to be alone together. And alternately, these two elements would bounce off each other thus producing a smooth and tranquil life for the person involved (assuming that he or she is doing a good job of being fair).

In real life, however, the abovementioned idea is rarely consummated. It's one thing to put the theory on paper but it's entirely another to execute it. It is when element A decides that he or she deserves the bigger piece of the pie or when element B decides the same. And more often than we'd like to admit, the case usually falls on one of those (again, assuming that the person involved is not practicing neglect on any level).

Everyone has expectations and everyone has demands... I don't think it's anyone's obligation to make everyone happy. It is one's duty, nonetheless, to be responsible for fulfilling promises. If elements A and B are masters of mutual hostility but are perfectly implementing the rules, one must not abuse this. Be thankful for it is a miracle. There is a call for respect and understanding from this side as well. Don't force issues and always be fair. Don't deliberately attempt to mix two bad chemicals together. Allocate one's time exclusively for one party... and let it stay that way.

Juggling reality is tough. But the ability to achieve excellence in it is undoubtedly attainable.

It's just that not a lot has attained it.

2006-03-08T13:21:00.000+08:00

Tender Care

Usually, at the first sight of suffocation or smothering, my tendency is to run the opposite direction -- as fast as my feet would take me. This has always been my instinct since I was young. It's quite funny how life plays pranks on us because ironically, I was placed in a family where life cushions are the meat and potatoes of life. And can I just say, it's really tough to run away from your own family.

The longest running joke in the family:

"You know I'm really not supposed to be a member of this clan," I would say.

"And why not?" Mother/Father/Sister/Brother would raise their eyebrows.

"Because you know in heaven?" I would begin. "There's a queue of kiddie souls in the form of cherubs and whenever a married couple would pray for a child, God would get a baby from the queue. Sort of like a dispenser, yeah?"

"Okay... and?" Mother/Father/Sister/Brother would prod.

"Well, see, the cherub in front of me really is present-day Prince William," I would explain. "He's the one who's supposed to be in this family. But because he caught a glimpse of you guys... he saw the kind of family that he'll belong to, he caught me offguard by pushing me in front of the queue and letting me fall instead of himself. That's how I ended up here. I'm really supposed to be Princess Williamina. But no, the bastard ended up being royalty."

Of course, I would never trade my family with anything else in this world no matter how Married With Children dysfunctional we can get (and no matter how seemingly tempting it is). Especially not Prince William's family. His family just gives new meaning to the phrase "too messed up." I could absolutely write an epic about how wonderful my family is.

But... we're a new breed of dysfunctionals.

Nope, no drug addiction, no drinking problems, no divorces (not even talk of it), no unwanted pregnancies, no physical abuse (spanking as a method of discipline doesn't count), no issues in school, no detentions or truancies, no friends from the wrong side of town... nothing at all. We're clean. Sparkling.

Like most families, my father is the head and my mother is the neck. She's the one that controls the head. Catch my drift? And like most daughters, I have issues with my mother. It only takes one phone call from my mother to shatter a very cool and collected me into pieces. Out of the five people in this lifetime that I allow to affect myself, it is she that holds the crown. Because my mother is so used to getting what she wants from all of us, we somehow give up our own rights to please her. We love her... we love her a little too much that it can get aggravating. Too much, too aggravating, as a matter of fact. And I say we're dysfunctional because more often than not, four people would have to accommodate the wishes of one person. And the most dysfunctional part of it all is that we really do shift around for her no matter how ludicrous the idea is. She is the sun of our solar system and we're merely planets that revolve around her.

And the worst thing is... no matter how far away we are from her geographically, she still manages to inflict her power on us. It amazes me how that's even possible.

Unfortunately, my mother lives on the life cushion theory. She means nothing but wellness for us, her family, her lifeline... and she would willingly die just to make sure that we're all safe and sound. Bless her. She, however, notoriously takes this a little too far. She still wishes to exercise her power over her children who are fully grown adults with their own lives (and every year it gets worse)... and even though she has no idea as to how reality works, she fully operates on her own delusional grandeur. For the sake of knowing that she can still have control over situations, she attempts multiple times to control ours.

Well, the repressed teen-age rebel in me is live and kicking. And because certain elements in my life make me feel a bit more secure and confident about myself, I'm less scared to stand up to her. I'm still scared, of course, and I always will be. She holds the crown, remember? But a lot less scared now.

One day when I've had too much strong whiffs of putrid smothering... and I don't fight my urge to run away, I have a feeling that I'll never turn back. And I will make sure that I have my sneakers on.

2006-03-07T04:17:00.000+08:00

Elevator Gossips

I find it incredibly hilarious EVERY SINGLE TIME that I find Filipinos talking about me in Tagalog... thinking that I can't understand them. It happens to me all the time, not just here in Singapore. They always assume that I'm Chinese just because I don't look like the quintessential Filipino. Good thing or not? I still haven't decided.

In the lift, on my way to getting lunch, these two Filipinos working on the floor above me was having this conversation in Tagalog.

"That girl is really tall," Man #1 said.

"Yeah, I know... even if you put me on top of you, she'd probably still be taller," Man #2 agreed.

"It's probably tough for her to find a guy taller than her here in Singapore," Man #1 added.

"I wonder what her mum fed her when she was small," Man #2 said. "I could probably use some of those." Then they both laughed.

Myth of the century: Guys don't gossip.

Just as the doors opened, the two guys kindly made way for me to step out first. True gentlemen. And as I walked past them, I said over my shoulder "Salamat ha?" And walked away.

I would have paid good money to be able to see their faces. I just continued to walk without turning back, snickering to myself.

2006-03-04T15:18:00.000+08:00

It's Just A Number

I'm on laying on my stomach in bed while writing this entry. The balls of my feets are aching from the angry (but beautiful) heels of my shoes and my face stings of the toner from my nightly regiment. My pillows are cotton soft against my tired shins and the air conditioner is purring like a contented cat. My body still reeks of steam from the hot shower that I just had. It's Friday night... and there's no place I'd rather be. I'm wearing my new Pooh Bear night shirt (thanks, Mum) that used to attract Gerard into being cradled in my arms.

I had my usual girly Friday night with Val earlier. It's to celebrate the end of yet another tedious and onerous week. This consists of sitting al fresco having a drink and watching every person that passes by; having a filling meal complemented by good conversation; and finally, a nice stroll down the sea of lights and energy spun off by the city. It was our first time to go back home together. Gone are the days of parting by the bus stop or taxi stand saying our "I'll call you when I wake up tomorrow" goodbyes. It felt great... I needed not worry about being unsafe or lonely. It's just like having a roommate without having to live with one. It's perfect.

Nights like these are what I live for. It's nothing glamorous nor fancy... but rather, warm and pleasant. Truth be told, even though I had my fair share of night crawling, storm dancing and drinking myself sober, I have to say that the moments that I cherish the most are the most quiet ones. I never loved partying. I did it simply because everyone else was doing it... and I thought I liked it. I think I did at some point. And I did have fun but the nights (or mornings) always ended in agony. It was pure torture.

So here I am sans the peer pressure. I find something oddly comforting about being with relatively older people. They seem to understand and appreciate more; and of course, know more. Very recherche. The concept of age just became a blur to me and I find this quite evolved. I used to categorize people according to their age group... and I couldn't have thought of anything sillier.

I've grown up. I've learned numerous things about myself. I've changed. I've become more honest to and about myself. And most of all, I've witnessed a lot. I've witnessed enough to say that I prefer experiencing the finer things in life.

2006-02-28T14:38:00.000+08:00

Keep Moving

Everyone has bad days right? And every once in a while we get slammed.

Right?

Today was a pothole down my road... more like a giant manhole infested with maggots the size of big macs. I don't know why I constantly let trivial things get to me like the pettiness of people, for instance. I know I'm entirely above that but why does it still bother me? Why do I let it bother me?

I know better than to trust people. It's something that I've picked up along the way -- mostly from smart people who give me sound advice. It makes sense; it's the wise thing to do. Sometimes I slip though. I feel that I'm naturally trusting... or perhaps just too naive. There are atypically atrocious people crawling the earth. And it's beyond me why I insist on getting burnt multiple times. As I was once told, I'm like a rat that keeps on going towards the electric shock... just because it offers a bait of cheese and nibbles. Why must I continue to bang my head against the brick wall when clearly, it hurts?

Another thing that bothers me... is the obscene amount of self-absorbent people out there. When did the damn ship from Planet Selfish sail over to Earth to bring all these immigrants in? And why do they procreate in exponential rates? Don't they use protection?

People who are true and sincere listeners are a rare commodity. But when I seemingly find someone like that, I get scared... I get scared that they would think I'm self-absorbent. I don't like being the epitome of my own worst enemy.

Sadly, I think it's getting there. I'm becoming my own worst enemy. I need to listen to myself more.

Before, during my hey days (or so-called ones), when I was upset I would reach for a cigarette and a glass of soda+vodka. I would tell myself that it'll make me feel better. And it did. The only problem was, once my lungs could no longer tolerate the killer smoke, the problems come back. It's like they were put on hold while I finished taking in my toxins and then would come back to bite me even harder in the behind. After I flick the last butt, I realize that I'm back to square one... again.

One thing that never failed to keep me hopeful though is the thought that tomorrow is a new dawn. I can try to make things better... it's another chance to be better.

2006-02-28T02:37:00.000+08:00

Divine Comedy

Now that I'm living on my own, my family feels compelled to call me and check on me more often. Good or bad? I've no idea...

I spoke to my brother for over an hour last night. I haven't spoken to him for that long in months! We were both busy the past few months coping with our separate "everythings" -- Gerard, finding a new place, work, the holidays, his wedding, etc. Now that things have reached a breathing edge, we get the chance to catch up again.

Quite refreshing talking to him again... I realized that I miss him. I've spent six years living in the same city as he and one year living under the same roof with him. I love how we both know deep inside that we'll always love each other amidst the scarcity of phone calls, emails and instant messages. He'll always be my brother... albeit with an attached wife now. I'm happy, though, that he's happy. I know how long it took for him to reach this point in his life.

Perhaps it's because among the three of us, it is he who has the strongest attachment to home, that I somehow always get homesick whenever I talk to him. Ironically, he is situated the furthest geographically. More so, he's the most unlikely to move back right now... with all the issues going on. And I mean, all.

"I seriously think that God has a sense of humor," he commented last night. I was twirling the cord on my mobile phone earpiece when I asked why he says this.

"Think about it," he said. "God makes us go through all the crappy things in life. He gives us hardships, trials and problems but really, at the end, it's really what happens in the next life that matters. Not this one we're living. As we scramble to make our lives perfect, God's probably watching from above laughing His guts out. He's probably thinking how foolish we all are for not realizing that we can't bring anything with us when we die. Therefore, all our efforts to get rich will eventually be in vain."

Then the cord twirling stops. Damn it, I hate it when he makes me think. It's true, though. We all get so caught up with worldly goods that we often forget the essence of life.

One day, by the gates of heaven, God will tell me: "That quarter-life crisis that I gave you when you were still living, that was a joke. You responded quite well though. I haven't laughed that much in months that's why I decided to let it drag on until you were seventy."

Then He'd smile a toothy grin.

I better go to heaven for this....

2006-02-21T02:46:00.000+08:00

Greener Grass -- From the Notebook

February 20, 2006 (Monday)
10:01pm

The moon is rounder from the other continent.

I’m sure that we’re all guilty of having that kind of mentality at least once in our lives. Sometimes, we only tend to see the glamorous side of things... we fail to acknowledge the problems and consequences that come with it. We get too absorbed in our ideals that we overinflate them to unrealistic expectations.

I have this problem too.

Just like everyone else, I wish for more money. I wish for more designer bags, more jewelry, more luxurious meals, more living space... everything! Everyday, at least once, I mourn about how poorly I am paid. I usually ignore the facts: I’m not homeless, I’m not starving, I don’t walk around naked and I’m not ill. I often (if not always) take these for granted... because I mistake them for rights, not privileges.

Why couldn’t I be one of those bankers that I see everyday who rake in a few hundred thousand dollars a year (easy!)? Why can’t I be one of those girls who come in and out of Gucci as if it’s a bathroom where they have to relieve themselves of diarrhea? Why can’t I have been a trust fund baby? Why... ?

Every other blue moon though, I get to think about it. We all have our fair share of problems, right? It just so happened that majority of the people have money as their problem (if not, they make it their problem by wanting more). And if your problem doesn’t involve financial matters, then it’s got to be something else. And frankly, if my problems can’t be solved by money, I would seriously be shitting bricks by now.

I know someone who seemingly has everything in his life. He has all the cars that most people just dream about; he’s liquid enough to fund a small country; he lives in the best part of town; and he has more toys than Santa Claus on Christmas eve. Name it, he has it. The catch though... is that he’s sick. He has a heart condition that not even the best doctor that money can buy can cure.

It just breaks your heart, doesn’t it?

I don’t deny that having money alleviates a lot of problems. It does solve quite a bit. I’d probably say that it solves 90% of the world’s problems. Unfortunately, it doesn’t solve all problems. And it’s even more unfortunate that the remaining 10% of the problems happen to be the most critical ones... Sad? Indeed.

They don’t say “mo’ money, mo’ problems” for nothing. The more money you have, the higher the price you have to pay. Life’s fair, after all.

2006-02-20T02:56:00.000+08:00

King Of The World -- From the Notebook

February 19, 2006 (Sunday)
10:48pm

Two thousand four hundred square feet of room space, five movers cum packers, two maids, my sister and me... and so far, there were one hundred seventy eight boxes between us all. I had no idea how my sister could’ve accumulated such a vast amount of stuff within the past two years that she was here in Singapore. And now we have to move all her possessions to Hong Kong. I had a pen and notebook in hand where I was listing down all the boxes that have been stowed and I was monitoring packing activities in the kitchen and living room. My sister was minding the activities in the bedrooms.

“Excuse me, miss?” an oldish guy tapped me on the shoulder. He pointed to a box on the floor, “All shoes.”

“Okay,” I smiled appreciatively as I wrote down SHOES on my list. “Thanks for that.”

Usually, the routine was: the packer would build a box, fill it with stuff, seal up the box then label it. And then I would copy down the label onto my list so that I’d have a record of all the boxes that have been packed. This guy, however, skipped the last step. I thought maybe he didn’t have a marker with thim and that he’d do it later on.

He filled up a second box full of shoes. And he still skipped the labelling bit. Then he proceeded to pack a third box of shoes. Still no label. The head packer happened to stop over to ask what were in the boxes. The guy told him what were inside and the head packer bent down to write SHOES in big bold letters on all the boxes... then he walked away to check on the rest of his people. After the guy packed the fourth box filled with shoes, he took out a blue marker from his pocket and wrote down SHOES on the box.

Weird... he did have a marker, so how come he didn’t write it down earlier?

After he finished packing up the shoes, he packed up the rest of the kitchen. He asked one of his colleagues to label a box BASKETS AND LINENS. At this point, I was convinced that he was illiterate or something. But it can’t be... he knows how to write. After all, he wrote the word SHOES, didn’t he?

I only realized what the problem was after he packed the vacuum cleaner. There was a scrap piece of cardboard on the floor with the words VACUUM CLEANER written on it. It was handwritten so I reckon his colleague wrote it out. After he sealed the box, he picked up that cardboard piece and copied what was written on it onto the box.

Then it hit me. The guy couldn’t spell. His command of English was poor to zero; thus, he was having difficulty spelling words out.

Seeing him copy the words onto the box made my heart melt. I always have compassion for helpless people who help themselves. This guy isn’t obviously one of the most learned people I’ve met but he totally doesn’t sorry for himself nor does he let it get in the way of making a living. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t feel ashamed to ask for help from other people. And in truth, he was really good at his job -- he’s very thorough, cautious, efficient and neat with his work.

“Miss, finished this one,” he told me gesturing towards a box right next to him. “What to write?”

“Oh that’s the Christmas tree,” I said. “You can just put XMAS TREE on the box.”

“How to spell?”

“X-M-A-S-T-R-E-E,” I spelled out. He wrote down the letters as i said it out loud.

He beamed. “Thank you.”

He’s very humble, that’s what he is. And it’s very refreshing to see people like this. It’s been a while, honestly, since I’ve last seen a meek soul like his. Lately, it seems like everyone I meet is either very arrogant or more arrogant than that. I wish they’d just put a cork on it.

To be simple is to be humble... and there is some sort of happiness that the less materially and less intellectually gifted understand that the opposite don’t. It’s the simplicity of life. Everyone knows about it but people just refuse to acknowledge it.

Leave it to people to take such a simple thing as life and turn it into complex knots of problems and frustrations.

2006-02-16T06:02:00.000+08:00

English As A Second First Language

I remember, a few years ago, that I got invited by an MIT graduate student to participate in an interview she's conducting for her dissertation. She was doing a study on South East Asian Languages... and Tagalog (my forte, or I'd like to think so at least) is part of it. She just wanted to ask me some questions about it. Being the broke university student that I was, I eagerly replied YES to her email to me. I agreed to meet her in this coffee shop I frequented in Harvard Square. For $12 an hour, why not???

When I met her, I found her to be this really sweet cannot-harm-a-fly Caucasian girl with smart wits. I decided that I liked her. We ordered some tea and proceeded down to business. She was a linguistics major and wished to work for the UN. She was doing her study on South East Asian languages because she found it to be interesting... though unfortunately, she can speak none of it. Hence, the need for me to answer her questions.

Now... I grew up bilingual. Of course, growing up, I was more comfortable speaking in Tagalog though I could understand and speak English fluently. It was only in high school when I met my best friend, Bear, that I only started speaking English fully. She's 100% Filipino who grew up majority of her life in the Philippines (born in the US) -- and she happens to be really bad at Tagalog. Up until this day, I have no idea why. So, our conversations had to be in English which I didn't mind... and I actually have her to thank because it was through her that I really polished up on it.

Anyway, I digress. Back to tea...

You know when you acquire a language while growing up... you don't really question why things are such? I mean, I never really questioned why the English language has a few million tenses and why we don't pronounce all the letters in a word. It's just how it is! This girl really made me think of my native tongue. I know, for a start, it sounds really funny to the foreign ear... but she just kept on asking why words were patterned a certain way and why.

I don't fuckin' have a clue.

The funny thing is, I realized that in Tagalog, just add or omit a syllable and the meaning becomes completely distorted. For instance:

"Umulan na." -- It already rained.

"Umuulan na." -- It has already started to rain. / It's raining already.

"Uulan na." -- It's going to rain soon.

??? Hello ???

I never really thought about this before since I've always used all the abovemention sentences. But really, just one letter or one syllable makes all the difference in the world.

And then she asked, "How do you say 'It rained on the beach?'"

I answered, "Umulan sa tabing dagat."

She frowned, "Well, see, in my notes, it said "Naulanan yung tabing dagat."

Then it was my turn to frown, "That means the beach accidentally got rained on."

Oh sweet bejeezus... I should have asked for more than $12 an hour.

The second time we met, she took along her professor that was guiding her throughout this research period. He looked like a cross between Nanook of the North and Santa Claus with a nest of blonde curls sitting on his head. He had a cherry nose and chubby cheeks. Apparently, he spoke perfect Tagalog as he spent three years in the Philippines and took up the language for two years in Cornell.

He greeted me and talked to me in DEEEEEEEEEEP Tagalog. I was agog. I had to ask him which part of the Philippines exactly he spent time in. Because circa 2000, they stopped using some of the words that he was still using. Apart from Filipino literature that I had to study back in grade school and high school.

I breathed a sigh of relief when he confirmed that he didn't spend time in Manila. He lived with a family in some nearby province where they all spoke Tagalog. Perhaps those bloody Americans just Westernized and urbanized Manila a little too well... because people in my generation (shame, shame) tend to speak in Taglish -- a mixture of English and Tagalog.

Guilty!

It was during this time when I realized that my language is beautiful. And I love the fact that not a lot of people can speak it (only people in the Philippines). It's like some sort of secret language, really. And people have told me that I'm actually more animated whenever I speak in Tagalog. Perhaps it's true... because so much emotions and meanings get lost in translation. Not just Tagalog but any language, I'm sure.

Whenever I travel to a country that doesn't utilize English as much, I always find myself appreciating the fact that a) I know another language (albeit on its way to dying; thanks to colonization) and b) I can be snooty about it too because not everyone can understand it (ahem, the French).

This is the reason why I dislike those Filipino-Americans that I met in the US who claim that their parents don't want them to learn Tagalog because it will mess up their accents. Puh-lease... someone pick up my eyeballs as they popped out of my sockets already from rolling them too much. Truly, they don't know what they're missing.

I reckon that knowing one's language is practically knowing one's culture already. And I would rather die than live in shame... if I don't know my own culture.

2006-02-14T04:15:00.000+08:00

Two People You Meet In Hell

There are two kinds of people that I hate: pathological liars (hmm) and excessively conceited people.

The first one, I believe, needs no further explanation. Even liars hate them.

The latter, on the other hand... I can't even express in words (or action) just how much I loathe them. The thing is, there are two further kinds of conceited people -- those that are conscious of it and those that are not. And trust me, I don't know which one is worse.

I know this particular person who is uber-nice. Truly. The only problem is, she can be quite arrogant about herself... that the people who don't know her tend to have the wrong impression. I have to admit, she's quite pretty -- gorgeous, in fact -- and well, the problem is, she knows this quite well. And she makes it her business to make people know that she knows this.

My point is... if you think so highly of yourself, you don't have to vocalize it so that even the people in the Fiji Isles know about it. It will show, no matter what. Keep it to yourself and let it shine through your style, personality and stance. Telling people how great/beautiful/smart/rich you are will just make them develop a certain distaste towards you. It's all about understated elegance.

Aye?

I have this certain fear -- the fear of people thinking I'm arrogant and conceited. It makes sense, yeah? Because I don't like people like that, I don't want people to think I'm like that. But sometimes, because I'm so concerned about being humble and modest, I can downplay myself so much that I probably am giving vibes that I have NO self-esteem. Not good. I learned through the years that it's all about attitude really. It is, however, severely important that one remain genuine and honest.

Seriously... there's a hair strand in between confidence and false modesty. And sometimes, even arrogance.

I cringe whenever people resort to singing themselves high praises in order to put someone else down. Just cool it, dude! I mean, do I hear insecurity bells ringing? More like beating the insecurity gong with a baseball bat... I cringe even more when people try to apply reverse psychology on others saying "Oh I'm fat, I'm ugly, I'm so dumb" when clearly they are not. And it merely triggers positive responses as "Oh, don't be silly, you're absolutely fab!"

Please... send in the Valium. By the truckloads. Here's some binary code for you: 00100.

The same goes for the NOVEAURICHE people out there. If you have money, there's nothing worse than bragging about it... because it just shows that you're not used to having it. Utterly classless.

Being humble is definitely an art. Not everyone can pull it off.

2006-02-12T14:53:00.000+08:00

Spa For Thought

Things that make me feel good about myself:

1) Making people laugh
2) Drawing my own money from the bank machine
3) Holding a grocery bag in one hand while using the other to unlock the door to my flat, with the mail crammed under my arms
4) Knowing that I've helped someone accomplish something or complete a task
5) Finishing a good composition and re-reading it all over again
6) Seeing good reactions from people who read my compositions
7) Having the will power to keep myself from eating dessert (or snacks)
8) Putting money in the offertory basket during mass
9) Having a productive day
10) Being able to finish a novel within a few hours
11) Sighing contentedly after watching a chick flick or after reading chick lit
12) Flat ironing my hair after a long, hot and relaxing shower
13) Trying on my older clothes during my skinny days... and finding out that they still fit
14) Driving
15) Finding the most gorgeous shoes and learning later on that they're half off!

2006-02-11T09:14:00.000+08:00

Minor Musings

Think about it...

Is it better to be unhappy due to someone's happiness? Or be happy because someone is unhappy?

Morbid, I know... but between the two, I would think the former is the lesser evil. I mean, I can cast it off as mere jealousy but the latter one is just pure and solid vileness!

2006-02-11T04:36:00.000+08:00

Unleashing The Coco Inside

Can I just say... I had a little bit of heaven last night. I went for my long overdue facial. Siiiigh, I haven't been that relaxed in a LONG LONG LONG time! As the lady pricked my face numerous times to get rid of the so-called impurities, I couldn't help but think "Man, it really hurts to be beautiful!"

It was well worth it though. I had my eye treatment as well as my cooling mask that just pampered my face by seemingly giving it brand new skin. I was there for about two hours... and I swear, I didn't want to leave!

Onto another note... FASHION WEEK!

After my facial last night, I went to buy some Japanese yakitori takeaway for dinner. I lazily plopped myself in front of the TV and tuned in to the best channel in the word: Travel and Living. They were doing a feature on Fashion Week in Italy where these two girls were to buy a fabulous outfit (complete with accessories) within a budget of 1,500 Euros.

Seriously, give me 1,500 Euros... and I can get you a wardrobe.

Inspired, I wrote down a list of staples in my closet (also the staples in my suitcase whenever I travel).

Clothing:

1) A good pair of skinny jeans

I used to swear by Diesel jeans when I was younger. I wore nothing but Diesel because most of their styles look good on my body (even the men's jeans!!!). But lately, I've been realizing, that the best jeans I own are the cheapo ones that I get in the most random places. I usually buy inexpensive jeans for those instances where I don't want to feel guilty about not taking good care of my clothes... so if it gets dirty, I don't have to gasp and run to the loo to scrub it off. Hands down, my best cheapo jeans are from Paris Blues and LEI. Perfect length, perfect shape and perfect form! And a few months ago, I stumbled upon this stall here in Singapore that does tailor-made jeans for nothing. And I've been living in that pair ever since.

2) Crisp PLAIN black (or white) tee

Truth be told, I have more than 10 plain black tees. I get them whenever I catch sight of them. And when I particularly like how one fits on me, I go back and buy more -- of the exact same kind. Why? Because ironically, the hardest article of clothing for me to find are the most basic ones... especially plain tees. Favorites: Giordano (yes, believe it or not) and Dorothy Perkins.

3) Dark denim jacket

Now this... is the greatest invention on earth! Whenever I travel, I always bring a jacket on the plane with me because it gets cold. And a denim jacket is always the perfect answer for it because it goes with ANYTHING you have on. And if I'm on business trip, I can wear it to work as well because it's dark (usually on Fridays though). And it's a good way to casual down an outfit.

4) A flattering pair of black trousers

You can never have enough black trousers. I wear them ALL the time for a number of reasons. a) it never goes out of style; b) when in doubt, it always solves the outfit problem; c) you can wear it anywhere and any time; and d) it's a good upper for those fugly days. Just one thing though, whatever happens, PLEASE don't wear sneakers with it. It's just horrible. Favorites: Express and Dorothy Perkins.

5) Leather knee-high boots in a neutral color

Yes, no need to say it, mine is in black (though I have some browns for the occassional earth color look). I have a few (I lie, a lot) of pairs but they all differ in heel types. This, of course, isn't applicable right now because I'm living two inches away from the equator. But when I used to be in countries where winter is in your face, I always had my boots in tow. It keeps me warm and it looks good :) with anything... and there's something about wearing boots that make you feel taller, more elegant and more sophisticated. When I was on a two-week training in Georgia a few years ago, I only brought my black boots with me. It matched all my clothes from my skirts to pants to capris. I was so pleased! Favorite: Nine West.

6) A-line (below the knee) skirt made of a really good material

This is the same concept with black trousers. A-line skirts look good on my body that's why I have gazillions of them. But I stray from those really funky ones because those are harder to wear again without people recognizing it as a repeat performance. I tend to stick to more solid colors so I can mix and match them. And I need clothes that have structure (I, unfortunately, can't do the dainty girly clothes)... and skirts always have the answer for that problem. Favorites: Bebe, Morgan de Toi, Mango and Zara.

7) Black flip flops (with cute embellishments)

Because I'm living in the Mac Daddy of all tropical countries right now, I try not to wear closed-toed shoes to prevent my poor toes from sweating like horses. Black flip flops with funky designs are always a way to go when going for a grocery run or afternoon tea with a friend.

8) LBD

Need I say more? Every girl should have one!

Accessories:

1) Sunglasses

For me, I always have two pairs... a dark one and a lighter one that's a bit more fashionable. No time to put on eye makeup? Didn't get enough sleep? Fugly day? A pair of sunglasses is your best friend. Trust me, it's enough to make an impact on the whole outfit (if it's the right one, of course). There's something magical about it... it creates a mystery about you. But on a more practical note, ever since I heard from my Dad that wearing sunglasses is what saved my Lolo from having cataracts, I never left home without it.

2) Wide leather belt

I love these things because they add an extra oomph to my outfit, it makes my torso look longer (hence, making me look taller) and it totally keeps my bulging tummy from peek-a-booing! It's enough to dress up any casual outfit.

3) A statement bag

This is usually the most expensive one on the list. But the investment is worth every penny. All you need is one statement bag and you can use it OVER and OVER again. Usually, I buy one in Red or another funky color because it would get highlighted with my usual all black get up. Favorites: Gucci, Dior and Louis Vuitton.

4) Make Up

I shall save this for another entry because I can write epics on this topic. But the essentials: powder, concealer, good eyeshadow, some lip gloss and blusher. I'm not a mascara girl... I just don't know how to use it properly no matter how hard I try. Pathetic. Favorites: Mac and Shu Uemura.

Whew! I never meant for that to be really long... but hey, getting stranded on an island is not a good enough excuse to look imperfect ;)

2006-02-09T14:20:00.000+08:00

You Dunno Jack

I honestly don't know what's better -- being jack of all trades or being a specialist?

It was absolute horror the other day: I was laying in bed with my feet on my pillows and my face towards the ceiling. I was closely observing the cracks on my ceiling when I had an epiphany.

I. Am. Not. Good. At. Anything.

Oh god... let's assess this rationally.

For me, talent is a parable that was told by Jesus. A hobby is something that you enjoy doing during your spare time -- which makes mine shopping and eating (lots too). Sports? Doesn't exist in my vocab (or my world). Music? Well, I did take lessons when I was younger. I skipped most of them. 'Nuf said. Art? I can draw stick figures perfectly :) My major in college? Please... I went to business school to take up IT. So I'm half-baked in between business and IT. And my job? Well, that's precisely it. It's a job. Nothing more.

I did pretty well in school back in those days. I had my fair share of awards and honors... but come on, doing well in school is hardly any specialization. It simply meant I succumbed to the pressures that my (very Asian) parents have given me... and I worked hard. It doesn't really mean anything more at the end of the day.

And this brings us back to square one: I still am not good in anything. Sure, I can do a lot of things but none of those things I excel in. I can cook without managing to poison anyone; I can be artistic but only if it's abstract; I can write a computer program as long as it doesn't involve complex cases and as long as I have Google; I can sing karaoke; I can bowl, if you count that as a sport, and sometimes I can even hit a birdie when playing badminton... you get the idea. It's pretty pathetic, really.

So what's the deal? What do I say to St. Peter when I arrive by the gates of heaven when he asks me what my biggest accomplishments are?

That I have this blog where I pour out my hypochondriac thoughts?

He will totally keel over in laughter...

2006-02-01T04:51:00.000+08:00

The Princess And The Pea

I don't understand why I used to feel so much disdain for princess-y spoiled brats who spend too much money on the newest clothes, on their hair, on their make-up, on shoes, on everything. And neither do I understand why I always look at them through the greenest eyes. I realized (through the help of another soul's blog -- my gratitude goes to you) that I was once a Princess too... correction, I still am.

How blind could I have been?

Though I'd like to think that the Princess version I am on now is more down-to-earth.

I come from a well-to-do family back home in Manila and I've been blessed with the most exceptional family members. I love my parents (though I constantly whinge about them) and my siblings. And they have done everything to provide for me. As a little girl, I had pretty dresses and pretty shoes. Even though I wasn't very pretty back then, I still felt beautiful. I had the newest toys and dolls. I didn't even need to ask for anything... it appears right before my very eyes as I'm still thinking about it. And when my parents would take us to trips abroad, I'd spend a few hundred dollars in Toys R' Us. And since I read a lot, I had the latest titles in my book shelves. I probably had enough toys to open a small children's store.

Come my teen years, I was always the first to have anything. Among my peers, I had the first CD player, the first MiniDisc player (not everyone even knew what it was), the first pager (the first colored pager at that -- mine was green), the first mobile phone and the first laptop. And I had the trendiest clothes and the newest shoes. I was only 12 years old when I received my first Armani jeans. My closet was filled with brands like DKNY, Diesel, Versace, D&G, name it... it was there. I had my first Tag Heuer watch when I was only 14 (before that, I had the luxury to have one different watch for every single day for two weeks). My first Louis Vuitton bag was bought at 16 in the flagship store in Paris. And I never had to wear non-gold jewelry since i was 6 years old (I had my first pearls at 10 and my first diamonds at 13). And every time the school year opened, I was known to be a few days late because my friends knew I'd always travel to the US or Europe. And I had impromptu trips to neighboring countries when a boring weekend would loom by.

I had it all. Shameless, I should be disgusted with myself right now.

Then my senior year in high school came to an end. I knew that my life was to drastically change after that year. That was the same year that I had to go to Boston for university. And I was going to be there by myself. No more chauffeured cars, no more maids who made my bed every morning, no more parents that I can just call on any time of the day if I needed to be bailed out on anything, no more four-poster bed (and certainly no more canopies), no more nice luxurious bathrooms and no more friends to make my phone ring.

And it was true. Life wasn't the same anymore. I learned to do my own laundry (I especially learned the importance of sorting the blacks from the whites), I learned that you can't just trust anyone, I learned to take public transportation, I learned to work for my own money, I learned to take on extra-curricular activities on top of my usual school work load.

See, I've always been an honor student. This was the main reason why my parents showered me with gifts. They were my rewards for doing well in school. In university, the pressure to do well was even more intense. My parents don't earn in dollars... I knew how tough it was to send a daughter to an American school during the peak of the Asian financial crisis. I took on a part-time job so I could freely tell my parents "I don't need an allowance anymore. I can buy my own books and food. You can just pay for my tuition." That felt oh-so liberating! You have no idea. At 19, it was a life-altering moment. It felt like I finally had a good grasp of my life.

And it was addicting. It was from that moment on that I realized I wanted to keep on doing that. I loved it -- independence. Every bit of it. It's been three years since I walked down that aisle to receive my diploma. And though the past three years have been the bumpiest time of my life... I'm glad to say that things are finally settling down now. I haven't broken down completely and I was able to catch myself somehow. Of course, I could never have done it without the help of my family. To them I owe my life.

Even I indulge myself to Princess treatments (though I could hardly afford it). Endless manicures/pedicures, highlights, facials, expensive make-up... tough to be a girl ;)

I feel guilty sometimes... what have I done to deserve all of these? What must I do to repay the kindness that I receive in this life? Do I do enough at all?

To God, I thank you for always surrounding me with the best people. And I thank You more for never leading me astray. I love You, I adore You and I magnify You.

Maybe being a Princess isn't so bad... as long as you appreciate it and as long as you understand what lengths people go to just so you can have that kind of life. And enjoy it. Enjoy it while you still can. Somehow you'll have to pay for it.

Be ready for it. After all, TANSTAAFL ("there ain't no such thing as a free lunch").

2006-01-31T04:14:00.000+08:00

Every Girl's Mystery

I've once read that the content of one's purse says a lot about herself. I'm not quite sure if this can be regarded as true or 100% bollocks but I, personally, have found it amusing going through my close girlfriends' purses. I'm just nosy like that.

I'm one of those people that just can't, for the life of me, utilize small purses. I honestly don't know how some girls can fit ANYTHING into those things. I read once that a girl that carries fewer things are more confident (because they need less things) than girls who have everything in their purses but their microwave ovens and door bolts. Hmm, I really don't know about this theory... but if I based my life on this, then I must have the poorest self-esteem in the whole wide world.

It's true, I'm a bag lady. I let my whole life revolve around my purse. I change my purse every few days but I never change what's in it. I just pour my stuff from one purse to another

Permanent tenants of my purse:

Wallet
- For obvious reasons, of course. My wallet contains my credit cards, relatively bigger denominations of notes, my ID and discount cards. I also stuff all my receipts in there. I don't know why I bother because I never check them... as a matter of fact, when my wallet gets too thick, I just take the receipts out and chuck them in the bin.

Coin Purse
- This is where I put my loose change as to not ruin my wallet (one dollar here in Singapore is a coin). I also put smaller bills in my coin purse so I don't have to take out my bigger wallet when paying for cabs and buying snacks/drinks. I also have my MRT/bus pass in it... I just tap my whole coin purse onto the scanner thingie (yes, eloquently said, I know) when I board and alight.

Umbrella
- Because the weather here is a mofo. You just don't know when it will rain.

Notebook
- I've acquired this habit only recently but I've found it extremely helpful in capturing thoughts and ideas. Sometimes I use these ideas for my entries on this blog. I used to have a diary organizer (a PDA for a while until I accidentally deleted everything in it -- never again!) before that I always carried around. My bag cripples my shoulders though when I bring it around.

Pen
- Uhh, I kind of need something to write with.

Keys
- Don't we all have at least one of these?

Extra Girly Stuff
- I've been traumatized before... I always want to be ready when my monthly friend comes to visit.

Lip Gloss and Lip Balm
- These are the only items of make-up that I actually carry around.

Packet of Tissue
- It's very weird that most food places here in Singapore don't give out serviettes (especially in hawker centers).

Gum
- I think it's even weirder that selling gum is banned in this country.

So there. I invite any therapist to analyze my purse contents... and to tell me what mental disorder I have.

And I would love it even more if anyone conducts a study of the direct correlation between a girl's number of purses and her intelligence/happiness/greatness (pick one!).

2006-01-28T03:21:00.000+08:00

Capturing Thoughts

On fashion:

"Are you depressed?" Mum asked inquisitively as she watched me get ready for work this morning.

"Uhh no, why?"

"All your clothes are black," she answered. "You used to wear red, purple, blue and the like."

For the record, I like black -- it's clean and it's simple. And the only reason why I used to wear colors when I was younger is that I had to wear a uniform in school (a uniform that's not in any way black). It doesn't reflect my mood, emotions and personality in any way. And I thought it's the most practical color since it matches everything. And most importantly, the color looks good on me. I look taller, slimmer, more elegant and trendier. And I'm not one of those people who have to plan the night before what they're going to wear the next day... I don't like unnecessary effort.

The thing is, I love fashion (hence, my perpetual state of "broke-ness" due to shopping sprees). I'm not fashionably-impaired. And this is not due to the fact that I follow trends. It's because I wear what looks good on me no matter what Cosmo and Vogue say. I don't like people who follow trends just for the sake of following it -- especially those who don't know that it doesn't look good on them. Have some spine, people!

On settledness (a sequel to my post on routines):

I used to be envious of my old colleague in my first job out of university. I would always see him by the side entrance of the building where people would smoke. He was probably in his late fifties, early sixties... and he worked in the accounts department. He was in charge of mundane tasks like collecting payments from our clients and chasing them when they didn't concede.

"I don't see you often enough here, princess," he would say to me as I light my menthols.

"Been busy... busy helping this thankless company to make more money," I would reply back. "What's eating you?"

He would always have this stern look on his face.

"The usual," he would answer. "I'm bored. I'm bored with my job, with my life, with everything."

At that point in my life, settledness was all I looked for. It was probably the worst I've ever felt -- and I was willing to trade anything for routine. Having a routine meant stability for me... and having the assurance that what I did that day will be more or less similar to what I'll be doing the next day. And I didn't have that. I yearned for it. Even though he constantly despaired about his boredom, I secretly envied him that he actually had something to be bored about. Whereas I... I had to constantly worry about my financial instability (with my not-so-budding career), the uncertainty of my living situation, my direction in life (or lack thereof) and probably the bipolar disorder that I never knew I had.

In hindsight, it was probably all the pressure that I put on myself. It's because I was foolish enough to listen to what social norms say... and to get affected by the people around me. I'm glad it's all over now (not totally but a good chunk of it is gone) but now and again, I get taken back to those conversations we used to have.

"So you're busy going around meeting with clients?" he would constantly ask me as if he doesn't know what I do.

"Yeah, piling up the miles in my car."

"You're lucky," he said. "You're lucky you don't have to stay in our horrible cubes in front of a computer the whole day."

If only he knew...

On being in love:

My good friend, Kai (whom I know is gay but he never admits it to anyone), once told me that he's never been in love before. And he's 30 years old. My instant reaction wasn't of pity or of sullen condescension. Instead, I understood.

Though I believe in soulmates and love, I surmise that there are people out there who can live happily without it. I don't know if it's called settling, but I do know of people who don't mind just being with someone that they can live it (as opposed to someone that they can't live without). They're more practical about it -- "As long as we care for each other, and we're there to be each other's companion, that's all the matters." Fair enough.

I am in love. And I love every single moment of it. And I would never trade it for anything else in the world... but I do know that love isn't everything. See, people often mistake love for passion. Passion, I can live without. Love, on the other hand, keeps me whole. I don't think Kai was talking about love. And I think this is the reason why he's fine with it. Like me, he could do without passion. Love is about companionship and friendship -- and that, we can't live without.

On self-entitlement:

Really, people ought to stop thinking that they deserve the finer things in life just because they came from a good social circle and obtained supreme education. Just because you came from a family of bankers, went to Harvard and snagged a job in Goldman Sachs -- that doesn't mean you're better than anyone else. It doesn't mean that you deserve that six-figure bonus or that shiny leather office chair more than the equally hard-working community college graduate working a few floors below you.

In the ideal world, people ought to be rewarded and measured according to how smart, how driven and how good they are. Everyone runs the same race and at the end of the day, it all depends on how fast you run in order to win. And it's the same concept with life, it all depends on how hard you work. Connections and education -- I think of them as agents that help you reach the end of the race. You do the running, not them. It's still up to you.

2006-01-27T03:30:00.000+08:00

Donkey Work

Routine -- does it make or break a person?

I realized the other day that I live on routines. Pathetic, I know, but I never said I'm proud of this fact. But I do. I strive for schedules, skeleton plans and just the general idea that I know what I'm going to be doing the next day. And I especially need to know where I'm going to get money the next day so that I can eat.

I was privileged to hear a few people's views on this.

One said that routine makes a person responsible. Does it? Or does it merely teach a person to accomplish mundane tasks? Perhaps when you have a particular routine, you feel obliged to carry them out because you would feel that something is lacking at the end of the day. I know that I get all restless and uneasy when I skip out on something during my day -- like putting on sun block (hey, people have coffee, I have sun block!). Even in taking a shower, I have a routine. I shampoo, I put on my moisturizing conditioner and leave it on while I scrub my body, wash my face and brush my teeth (yes, I brush my teeth in the shower). Then I will rinse off my conditioner. When I'm distracted, I end up shampoo-ing my hair twice and miss out on washing my face. And this completely messes up my whole day. Something like that. The same applies to the bigger things in life... like a daily (or even weekly) routine of doing the laundry, paying the bills, cleaning the house, etc. So maybe, yes, routine does make you responsible... and efficient!

Another said that routines make her unable to compromise... especially with the age factor coming in strongly every year. Because she's so used to doing her own thing having to take care of herself for a while now, she finds it more and more difficult to accommodate other people in her life. Ahem, difficulty in finding a life partner. Everyday, she has work, chores, errands and extra-curricular activities (like going to the gym, playing mah-jong and having drinks with girlfriends). She's simply resistant to change and doesn't think any man is worth having when it means sorting her life all over again. Her argument, "I'll change everything in my life and at the end of the day, he walks away. And I'm back from the start again. Might as well not do it at all." Is this protecting oneself from emotions or a slight sign of selfishness? Of course, I'm in no position to judge her because I don't know the whole story. But routine must not get in the way of happiness... granting that the theory makes all aspects of life better, thus making a person happy.

The third one illustrates that routine gives his life a structure and direction. Without it, he gets lost -- sounds a bit like me, really. On the other hand, he also counters that the absence of routine lets us enjoy spontaneity. I must admit that there are people who live by "going with the flow." Bless their souls as I've proven to myself that this concept is actually easier said than done. Blame my wary nature for it. There are (rare) times when I'm on holiday and I just refuse to make any commitments and schedules. This is because I want to deviate from my day-to-day life of subjecting myself to routines... and for once, be able to do things impulsively. I also use the "I'm too lazy to plan" bit to excuse myself on a more truthful manner. But I've discovered that I can only stand doing this for three days -- tops! I then find myself asking "What do I do tomorrow? What am I to do later?" Believe it or not, I get bored of not planning. You can certainly take a girl out of her routine but you can't take the routine out of a girl.

I, however, would like to point out that sticking to a routine doesn't necessarily equate to inflexibility. I usually say that I'm not terribly fussy (speaking in relative terms, of course). I constantly try out new things... and if I like them, then maybe I'll include them in my routine. And I have no problems moving blocks of time around my little organizer ("I don't care when or what time I'm going to church this weekend; I just need to go"). There are people who just dislike interrupting their routines even though it means making things more inconvenient to other people. I absolutely hate people like that.

I hope they all get cancer.

Routines aren't necessarily bad... as long as it doesn't rule your life. Or else it will eventually destroy your life. It's good to be kept busy on a daily basis but let's not forget to appreciate the finer things in life. There is life outside our lives... we ought to explore them once in a while.

So to answer the question: Routines will break you if it's the only thing that makes you.

2006-01-24T14:18:00.000+08:00

IKEA + Feng Shui = You Don't Want To Know

Never again will I let my mother shop for me... especially in IKEA. It's like handing out free prescriptions to people in drug rehab.

Just look at the whole mess of stuff she has gotten me. I'm thankful, of course, for having a mum who is willing to scrounge around IKEA for one whole afternoon and buying all my necessary things for my new flat. It's especially wonderful since I don't have time to do so myself because I have to work the whole day. But if it's your dollars that pay for these things, then you better think twice about such tempting offers. I can just hear the ching-ching of the cash register from across town. This is just a teeny-tiny apartment we're talking about... and she's bought enough to break the bloody bank! I don't even want to think about letting her furnish a house. It would definitely break my bank... and the neighbor's.

We spent majority of yesterday moving (more like lugging) furnitures around. My mum swears by feng shui and is convinced that life's mishaps are caused by the wrong positions of beds, tables, doors and bathrooms. And she refuses for these "elements" to get the better of her youngest daughter. As she says to my constant mocking of feng shui, "It doesn't hurt to follow it... especially if it's supposed to get rid of the bad things in your life. You've nothing to lose." Yeah, just a few limbs from constantly moving stuff around, my mind from trying to fathom feng shui concepts (eventually gave up though) and time from figuring out how to lay out the room to fully satisfy the positive energies. Too bad I can only move my bed "slightly to the left" or "slightly to the right." I could see my mum's jugular dangerously throbbing when she realized that I only have so much space to move things around. Perhaps it would be fun (and cheaper) pretending to be Bohemian and just doing everything on the floor... like putting on my shoes.

Or chopping tomatoes.

... Or blogging.

Oh dear!

2006-01-23T02:16:00.000+08:00

Great Wall Of Chinatown

The maternal unit has arrived for a quick visit. Yes, AGAIN! I honestly think that with the amount of time she spends here, she can probably be qualified for permanent residency.

Because the Lunar New Year is already next weekend, she thought it would be fun to go visit Chinatown yesterday to witness the festive goods. Now, imagine... those dreaded few days before Christmas and everyone's out doing some last-minute Christmas shopping. Well, yesterday is kind of similar. Only worse. A million Chinese people in Chinatown shopping for whatever they shop for during the holidays, very little space to walk on, roofless stalls and heavy rain. Oh, and let's not forget the dragon dancers in the middle of the streets with loud pumping drums enough to make you both deaf AND blind. This girl wasn't happy at all. I was warned by at least a hundred people to not move places until after the New Year because the area will be so busy that I'd probably end up losing my left foot in the crowd.

Three hours of fighting with people got me so knackered that I actually fell asleep on the couch for two hours when we got home. My mum bought so much snacks but by the time I woke up, they were all gone. Great! The only good thing that I got out of the trip was the GINORMOUS gold chocolate coins that I bought. Evidently, during the New Year, you're supposed to have a plate out and fill them with pistachios (for happiness), some red seed thingies (for good health) and gold chocolate coins or taels (for wealth and prosperity). And with my sister's attempt to embrace the culture she married into, she did this and hung some decorations on the walls. Unfortunately, I would eat the gold chocolate coins after supper and eventually finished it up. I mean, come on, they're there to be eaten! But I felt bad so I went to buy another pack of those. And I got the reaaaaaaaally big ones! Hahaha! They're as big as my cheeks!

Perhaps we'll have more wealth and prosperity coming in this year...

2006-01-21T11:32:00.000+08:00

Yellow Brick Road

A few weeks ago I was having a chat with Tatin (everlasting good friend / bitch partner) about my potentially rising quarter-life crisis. Though I am fully aware that I won't forever be in my thankless job and will eventually move on to somewhere better (I hope so at least), I somehow feel that the issue doesn't really lay on the job ground.

See, I'm Asian. I was born and raised in Asia (with a five-year-glitch of a Boston education) and was instilled with Asian values. With that being said, I was geared to think career and money. And because I'm Filipino, God and family was thrown in the mix with extra oomph! All these nonsense about taking up liberal arts or fine arts in university is cultural suicide. The structure is simple: do well in school, take up something practical (and mind-numbingly dull) like business and medicine, make a decent living afterwards, find a way to make more money, support your family (including your parents), have a good home and make your children go through the same thing that you just did. Some take it a few hundred notches higher -- get into a school with a good brand, build enough contacts to get into an equally prominent firm, be friends with all the right people so you can somehow meet an eligible partner, make loads and loads of money, get a huge house with the right address (and country club memberships too) and send your kids to all the right schools where they can hobknob with children of their kind. Sometimes I feel this is what it's about... you are measured by how much you earn, what you do, where you do what you do and who you know. At this point, I'm sure this isn't just applicable in Asia. It's merely highlighted in this part of the world...

I digress. Have been, my apologies.

This brings me back to myself. I was 15 years old when I knew that I didn't want to be in the business industry. Maybe this was my passive attempt to be a rebel during my "impressionable" years because everyone in my family is business-oriented. My proposal to take up writing and arts in university was quickly rejected by comments like "Do you want to starve?" or "Do you want to be jobless after school?" or the worst, "Do you want to live with Mama and Daddy forever?" It's not that my family doesn't support my dreams to be a writer. I know that they're simply concerned about my well-being. After all, we cannot afford such luxuries as being artsy-fartsy. We were sent to good schools because my parents wanted to ensure our futures... that we'll be okay financially (and that they don't have to worry about that because we would have jobs). And I understood all these. I wasn't about to throw away my parents' hard-earned money just because I want to chase a dream that I'm not even sure of. I mean, what did I know? I was a teen-ager! So I succumbed. I ended up going to a hard-core private business college in Boston and adjusted my frame of mind. I was going to be a business person.

Come end of sophomore year, I decided to be in IT instead. I figured it's a safe enough industry to be in since people do make money in it. My mother cried after that dreaded phone call when I told her I was shifting my major from finance to computer information systems.

So here I am, in Singapore, in one of the business hubs in Asia. I can happily say I didn't turn out so bad, after all. I'm working as IT/sales support in a financial research company. A happy medium, if you ask me. Forget the bad pay because if I want to fight that battle, I would have to take a number and if I'm lucky, maybe I'd actually get to have a turn.

Where do I go now? Haven't I fulfilled the Asian expectations? Mind you, only the minimum level... I don't dare go the country club route. I can't say I love what I'm doing. Then again, who really enjoys his or her job?

I commended Tatin on her bravery to chase her dreams of being a make-up artist (a very posh one at that). Like me, she got a business degree at a top school. But unlike me, she defied gravity and pursued a career in make-up after finishing school. It's something she absolutely loves... and she's having a ball.

"It's not bravery, really," she remarked. "It's really selfishness from my part. And it's just because I can get away with it with my dad."

I frowned. I never thought of it that way. "So you're not happy with it?"

"No, I am. I'm very happy to do this," she answered. "It's just that looking around me, I realize that I don't really make any contributions. I don't help around the house financially, I can't even support my mum or my brothers, it's all just for me."

It's an interesting trade-off... but does it always have to be that way?

I will be blunt. I feel that I've duly paid for my dues and that it's time for me to do something for myself. Well, in essence, being "strongly encouraged" to take up something practical in university really is for me as well. After all, I did get a job that pays the bills... but you know what I mean. I want to take up writing again. I know, however, that I have no training on it. At all. I've signed myself up for a brief writing class that will start in February but that's barely scratching the surface.

What I really want is an MFA in Creative Writing.

There, I've said it. I know it doesn't sound too horrid but trust me, if I tell that to my family, I will receive a celebration of mixed reactions and comments. I just seek training and guidance from a decent school (especially since I'm planning on paying for it on my own). I don't plan to make any drastic career changes as my Asian roots have grown too long. I just couldn't stop the brainwashing. I just want to pursue writing as a hobby and as a second-line of income if I'm lucky. I really just want to learn.

My parents are still hoping and hinting for me to take an MBA. I think that can wait... perhaps I can convince them that MBA's are highly overrated. For now, I want to do something that I've always wanted to do. Even though I don't believe in New Year's Resolutions, I'd like to say that I'm dedicating 2006 to building a portfolio and to slowly ease in to an artsy paradigm. Trust me, for someone like me, this is quite dramatic. I've never done such a thing. This is all new to me... and frankly, it's quite scary. Scary because I don't know who or what has inhabited my body and because it's something that I may probably have to do on my own. And the lack of resources is a major factor too.

We'll see though. They're all theories and concepts for now. It's something that I've to seriously think about. But I'd at least like to think that I'd be able to tell St. Peter when I die that I've done something. I can say "Hey, dude, I've tried my hand in nurturing a talent. Not my problem if God didn't like what I've done."

2006-01-20T12:46:00.000+08:00

Cat Fight - From the Notebook

January 18, 2006
10:28pm

It’s official. I’m a hater. A cat hater -- and I’m not ashamed to admit it either. In fact, I'd like EVERYONE to know that I hate cats. Please stop letting them near me and pushing them down my throat. No matter how cute and cuddly you think they are, they will ALWAYS be ugly to me. And I will continue to avoid them like the plague.

Tonight was my usual mid-week dinner with Val near work. I wanted to show her my new flat afterwards since she didn’t get to see it last night when Sani let me view the place and then turn the keys over (don’t you reckon it was mighty brave of me to get a place that I haven’t seen before? It’s called desperation!). So after dinner, we walked towards the complex but instead of going her usual route towards her building, we headed to my future building.

Okay... you know how they say “When something seems to good to be true, it probably is?” Well, I’m telling you right now, it’s bloody true! There’s always a catch somewhere. When Sani broke to me that he was going to rent me out his place, I was ecstatic! I mean, come on... what more can I want? It’s the perfect location -- within walking distance to work and right smack in the middle of the city; it meets my budget; I don’t have to pay any utility bills; it’s fully furnished; and it’s in the next building to Val’s. It’s all that I can ask for. But apparently, there’s a big catch glaring at me in the face.

A cat.

Yes, a cat. A stray cat. See, Sani ADORES cats. The reason why it took him a month before he could show me the place is that he had eight cats living in the flat and he had to find a good pet farm to put them in. I’m not entertaining any questions right now because up until this point, I still don’t understand how a single person can own more than one cat. Let alone let it live in a flat all by themselves. His mum lives right next door and used to feed them. Ever since Sani and his wife had a baby, they had to move places because Sani refuses to get rid of his cats. Yes, he loves his cats that much... that he gave up his flat in the central business district for them. I don’t know, but that sounds borderline psychotic to me. But because he’s my landlord, I’m going to stop talking ill about him. Then agaiiiiiiiiin, he’ll be taking away half of my salary from me... hmm.

Anyway, yes, a stray cat. Because Sani loves cats, he refers to that monstrous creature as “the resident cat.” God knew what he meant by that when he told me last night when we were riding up the lifts. I thought he meant that it was a cat that one of the neighbors owned. Thus, RESIDENT cat. Evidently, that wasn't what he meant. He meant that the cat squats in front of my house everyday begging for food from my neighbors. It’s fat and could barely carry itself while walking. And I mean fat to the point that I actually asked whether it’s pregnant. And it has these sharp scary eyes that seem to throw daggers at you when it stares at you. The neighbors obviously feed it everyday so it keeps on coming back practically living there RIGHT ON MY DAMN CORRIDOR! And because Sani’s army of cats used to live in my flat, the resident cat (which shall be referred to as RC from now on because just saying those words gives me the creeps) would come by all the time to fight with them. I kid you not, that’s what I was told.

So I told Val about this cat while we were walking to my place.

“Really, I swear, this cat is just so annoying,” I said. “It just stays there like furniture. I’ve no idea what I’m going to do about it.”

“Don’t worry laaaaah,” she said. “Once it figures out that the cats aren’t there anymore it’ll stop bugging you.”

We rode the lift up the 10th floor and the door opens. And ta-dah! What do we see perched right in front of us?

The cat. The RC. The fat annoying (and dirty) RC!

“Vaaaaaaal!” I said hiding behind her 40kg-body. “The cat the cat the cat!”

She threw me a dirty look. “You’re a hundred times bigger than it! Just ignore it and it’ll be fine,” she assured me.

As we made our way to the place, RC followed us as if knowing where we’re going and what we’re there for. At this point, I was clutching Val’s hair because it was the first thing I grabbed on.

“He thinks we’re going to let the other non-existent cats out,” I suggested without taking my eyes off the cat in case it decides to do something funny like lunge on us. Worse, lunge on me!

“Okay,” Val said. “Go open the door while I ward him off.”

I tried opening the million locks of my door. In Singapore, the doors have gates! Yeah right, as if anything bad happens around here. I had to open that damn gate and because it was my first time to do so, it was taking me a hundred years to figure it out.

“Will you hurry up?” Val demanded as she played cops-and-robbers with RC

“I’m trying my best here!” I retorted back fighting with the gate lock.

When I finally opened the door, Val ran inside with me and we closed the door behind us. I reckon we closed the door in RC’s face because it started screaming and whining like crazy. It was making irritating NGEOWWWW noises. I can just imagine trying to sleep at night... when it’s there! After quickly showing her the place, we braced ourselves for the worst.

“I better go out first in case the cat’s out there,” she said. Oh I love her so much! May God (Buddha?) bless her soul. And predictably, it was there. And guess what? It was sitting there right in front of the door waiting for us to come out.

“Shoo!” Val fiercely said. Then she said something in Chinese that I didn’t quite get. i didn’t know cats spoke Mandarin here in Singapore. Then the next thing I knew, she was hitting the cat with the corner of the gate because it wasn’t budging. “Shoo! Aiya!”

When RC was already at a safe distance, we stepped out of the place and I once again fumbled with the locks. From next door, we saw Sani about to leave his mum’s place (he eats dinner there every night). He saw me fretting and freaking out. He laughed.

“Just ignore him,” he said. “He won’t bother you." Seriously, this line is getting old. Easier said than done, people! Easier said than done. "If he’s there, just walk around him.” He walked around a sitting RC for demonstrative purposes and headed for the lifts. “See?”

At that point, RC started following him to the lift.

“THAT!” I screamed. “That is what I don’t want to happen! I don’t what THAT thing following me in the lift or anywhere at all.”

Val and Sani laughed. I swear, they don’t understand! These are animal lovers. I know it hurts Val to shoo the cat away because I saw her playing with it while were were waiting for the lift. And she has two cats in her place. As in, SHE LIVES WITH THEM! The girl is a higher form of being than me because she likes animals. She was just doing the shooing for me.

Ugggh! I don’t know what to do. Sani was sweet enough to tell me that he’ll give me some cat repellent to spray at the foot of my door. That reminds me, I’ve to ask him where to buy it so I can buy a whole crate of them. And he also told me that I can always spray water onto the cat’s face if I see it in front of my door again. And once RC associates me with water, it’ll start avoiding me (the mean old lady with the water bottle). Then again, my sister may be right. The plan may backfire on me because what if one day, RC decides to take revenge on me and brings all its friends over just to attack me? What if they all decide to live there??? Oh dear...

So, ladies and gentlemen, my conundrum. The cat. The cat that I can’t complain to anyone about because NO ONE owns it; the same cat that goes up and down the lift with people when it gets bored. I mean, is it just me... or is that cat a bit too smart for its own good? Or am I giving it too much credit?

I really hope I can condition it to not come near me or else it’ll end up in some Chinese restaurant menu. Okay, I jest. That was quite gross. I need to do something about the cat so that it won’t bother me at all. It’s bad enough that it’s there 24/7. And that it won’t go anywhere for the next few weeks or months or years.

I really hate cats. I hate pets.

Unless, of course, there are bars or a really thick glass in front of us.

And to think, I thought I liked Garfield...

2006-01-18T03:57:00.000+08:00

Office Space

Politics at work can be really funny sometimes (annoying the rest of the time). I've been working here for more than half a year now -- the longest eight months of my life -- and I'm glad to say that I've more or less overcome the harder obstacles when it comes to getting along with my colleagues. I've perfected the art of getting along with colleagues that I don't necessarily like (ie. putting on a plastic face most of the time). I mean, what's the point of showing them what you really think of them if you have to spend a staggering ten hours a day with them? Unless you've a death wish, you've to be smart enough to go with the flow. The way I look at it: you don't have to be friends with them. Just know them well enough to...

- keep your job (be the good guy; outcasts are easy targets)
- have confidence that someone will write you a reference letter when you leave
- have the capability to climb that notorious ladder
- have access to office perks
- avoid unneeded experiences from hell

I'm sure we're all aware of the ever famous Mean Girls scenario. Trust me, I'd rather be one of them than be their victim (if being neutral is out of the question, of course). Sometimes I reckon that real life really starts in high school, contrary to popular belief. The social part of it, that is. No matter which environment you take it to... may it be school, work, parties, organizations, etc... there will always be the popular crowd and the underdogs. There will always be bullies and there will always be the dorks. That's the sad reality of life. People will never get tired of power tripping. If any, people would actually look for it.

I don't propagate any of these, mind. As a matter of fact, I hate it with a passion. It's where elitism and discrimination stems from. In the perfect world, none of these would exist. Everyone's going to be popular and everyone's going to be friendly. But face it, I'm sure even Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King have once said to themselves "I can only do so much." It's fighting against human nature. That's like fighting with the unleashed rabid German shepherd next door while holding a raw t-bone.

Sure, there are things we can do to at least minimize all these extra headaches. But until the heavens fall over and people start consciously doing something about it, it would be best if we keep gritting our teeth through friendly smiles.

In any case, Hollywood won't be able to make blockbusters without the realism of the bully-underdog plot. Someone's always got to be the bad guy. Or else what would be left for us watch?

Right???

2006-01-17T04:21:00.000+08:00

Girlfriends

"Let me be the one you call If you jump, I will break your fall, lift you up and fly away with you into the night If you need to fall apart, I can mend a broken heart, If you need to crash, then crash and burn, you're not alone" - Crash and Burn by Savage Garden

I find that in every stage of my life that I go through (or have gone through), I was accompanied by one strong female. Through throngs of friends, there was always a special one that I was more inclined towards. More of a sidekick or an alter-ego, so to speak. There was always someone that stood by me...

Though, admittedly, not all of them had been good for me, I enjoyed their company. And more importantly, they were there when I needed them the most. To give me support, to influence my outlooks and decisions, to be with me as I bide time, to be my friend, to be my confidante -- I always had someone to turn to. Shame that I've lost touch with many of them because I don't think most of them have any idea just how much they have contributed in shaping my life. My relationships with them may have faded but the lessons I learned from them will be eternal.

Perhaps I ought to blame it on the fact that I never stay put in one place long enough to nurture these friendships... but I am thankful that I'm lucky enough to always have someone. And maybe if I learn how, I can take these friendships one step higher amidst my frequent and unsurprising egresses.

When I was younger, I've been known to have big and numerous circles of friends. It's little known fact that I tend to stick to just one person at a time though. There are friends and there are best friends. When the day comes that I've to walk down the aisle and trailing behind me would be the most special ladies in my life, I know that the line won't be long. Each person would represent different periods in my life -- the period in my life where they had been most meaningful and significant to me.

And as I go forward, I'd like to have lesser and lesser names to be put on my bridesmaid list. I wish to have longer friendships... if not neverending ones.

2006-01-14T04:37:00.000+08:00

Puss In Boots

It never fails to amaze me how people are so different in various parts of the world. I especially love travelling to countries I've never been to previously... and a habit of mine is wondering how it would be to be a native of a particular country.

A few years ago I went to Amsterdam. It's absolutely beautiful, that country. At the same time, it was perfectly foreign to me. I adored how their language just rolls off the people's mouths and how the culture just oozes out of everything -- from the liberal brothels (situated right next to churches, mind) to the shameless ads of "we serve E" or "we sell marijuana" to funky (and I mean, FUNKY) clothing. I remember eating a meal consisting of bread, cheese and wine whilst watching people walking around. I wondered how it would be to be one of them. Everyone seemed to know where they're going and what they wanted. No one gave the train maps tacked on the walls a second look and simply proceeded to the right tracks. Even the quaint little stores seemed to be standing there for specific purposes... and they attracted certain markets too. And no one spoke a word of English except to those fortunate ones, like me, for instance, who aren't originally from there. Being naturally non-European, I had the words "TOURIST" etched on my forehead in big bold letters.

Going to France made me feel resentful... it made me feel resentful of the fact that I couldn't speak French and therefore is deprived of the seeming presence of a password in order to thoroughly enjoy the country. I was envious of the people who knew Paris like the back of their hands and those who would expertly turn round the confusing corners of the "rues" plopping down the seats of their favorite French cafes. And ordering complex coffees without batting an eyelash. Achingly fashionable women would be walking around wearing dark sunglasses and impractical gloves (not to mention shoes) holding either their equally beautiful dogs or numerous shopping bags.

In Germany, I rode the train from Heidelberg to Frankfurt. I was 16 years old back then... and I couldn't help but notice a group of youngsters board the train. They were animatedly and colorfully having this conversation. Naturally, I didn't understand them but I could just imagine them talking about their other friends, what they were to do for the day (perhaps for the evening), what happened yesterday, etc. I thought about how it would be to go back to their Heidelberg homes. Would they tell their parents what they did for the day during dinner? Would they have a dinner consisting of beans, potatoes and some meat? And would they drink bubbled water? How would it be for them when school starts? How far are their schools from their houses? Do they ride a bus or the train? How would it be to live there? Would I be able to easily acquire the language as my Dad's German business associates often tell me?

I think that going to a country that utilizes a totally different language adds to my enthrallment of the place. London is exquisite, yes, but once the novelty of their accents and local slang had worn off, it was just like any other place. I feel the same towards the US. Even Singapore.

Thailand is one of the few Asian countries I've been to that doesn't widely use English. And I felt the same fascination towards them. As I would ride the cab around the city, I would glue my eyes onto the signs written in Thai and just observe. I didn't even feel the desire to know what they mean... but I had liked looking at them. They were prettily written with their perfect curves and details. I used to feel that way towards the Chinese characters too whenever I'm in Hong Kong. But ever since I've studied the language, and eventually learned the secrets (and because they're virtually everywhere), I have lost interest. It's no longer a mystery. Perhaps one day, when I go to Mongolia, the spark would come back *wink* as their magnificent culture will be thrown into the mix...

I pray that I can add more experiences into my young travelling collection. I wish to go to more exotic places where my imagination can run and play... and save the more commercial places for when I've already settled down in my life. I want to go back to Italy (for more than two days this time hmph!) and really get to know the place... and then travel south to Spain. Scandinavia, Egypt, Russia and Israel remain to be favorite future destinations *eyes twinkling*

If only... if only...

2006-01-13T05:26:00.000+08:00

Rain Rain Go Away, Lia's Shoes Are Getting Wet!

I was quite looking forward to coming back to Singapore after getting entrapped in Boston's horrible weather. I couldn't wait until the rays of the sun would burn painfully against my skin and let the heat encourage my sweat glands to make my hair all oily and greasy once again. I didn't even mind knowing that my make up would probably get all messy and "unpretty."

But no.

What do I get? Rain. Not the kind of rain that will drench you -- but the kind of rain hard enough to give you a concussion. Apparently, it's been raining non-stop since last Saturday. And when the rain falls on the ground, it bounces back up high enough to reach the 20th floor of most skyrises here in the city. It's a cross between the typhoon seasons of Taiwan and the dreary climate of England. All you see are umbrellas... and unfortunately, since most people here are uhm, height-challenged, yours truly ends up getting poked in the eye more often than not. I'm certainly not in love with this weather.

And I got word that this is supposed to last until February. It would be lovely to see all the lanterns hung for the festivities during Chinese New Year get awashed in the rain.

Welcome back to me.

Sigh.

2006-01-09T03:09:00.000+08:00

To Love And To Hold

10:08 pm EST

It's over. Finally, it's over -- my long holiday, my trip to the US, my brother's wedding and year 2005 (albeit year 2006 has already begun a week ago). Today signifies the official closing of another chapter in my life. And in a few hours (tomorrow) a new one begins. Shame though that it involves a long plane trip.

Today, you can look at it in two ways: either I've gained another family member or I've lost one. I'd like to think of it as the former though. My brother took the permanent girlfriend road and have tied the knot. It still hasn't fully sunk in that he's finally married. It's surreal. He'll always be frozen in my mind as 17 years old... the bright-eyed freshman who loves wearing designer clothes and sports the uber trendy haircut. I don't know what the hell happened but the abovementioned character has faded with time. Out came someone better, someone more down-to-earth, someone wiser and someone who chases dreams. And with someone as great as him he needs a partner to complement him. I'm confident that my new sister-in-law will do him well... I wish them both the best and here's to forever! Congratulations :) As the matron of honor's speech went, I do hope that today is the day that you both will love each other the least in your life.

My family is definitely growing. A sure sign of age and time. I never really spent enough time pondering about this and just sort of took it in stride. It's hitting reality now... that I'm the last one that doesn't have my own family yet. I would do anything to hold on to how things were but alas, we all know that's not possible. As they say, the only constant thing in life is change.

How true.

2006-01-05T23:03:00.000+08:00

A Wrong Turn Down Memory Lane

6:03pm EST

As I weed out the closet that I've left behind two years ago, I get transported back to my university years. My clothes smell of musty innocence and enjoyment courtesy of the memories I've collected during my academic era (or so-called). How skinny I was! And how I would give anything to look and feel like that again... Where did I get all the money to invest in so much clothing? Not to mention my other useless things.

It would be interesting to relive university all over again -- all four years of them. I certainly had fun in a non-partying-binge-drinking sort of way. I had good clean fun. And I learned tons. I learned about people, relationships, the real world, beginnings, ends, temporary highs and lows, and simply going on with life. Even though I've committed lots of mistakes, I probably still wouldn't have changed anything. I wouldn't be the same person that I am now...

It was a haven. It felt safe and secure... It was after that things have started going horribly wrong. During university, I:

1) Was painfully fashionable (pain being the operative word; I didn't care how uncomfortable I felt as long as I knew I looked good).
2) Had cross-sectional friends. They're the kinds who fade away from your life after it all ends... with the occasional polite chitter chatter here and there.
3) Acquired a good grasp of who I really am... and who I am not.
4) Thought I could do anything (I probably could but it certainly doesn't feel like it sometimes)
5) Was happy
6) Learned how important commitment and trust is in a relationship
7) Experienced being loved for the very first time... and being hurt. And I learned that one is to be found where the other is at. Neither is for real without the other.
8) Appreciated being on my own (as in, alone)
9) Must have done everything that is bad for me... and they all found a way to blow up in my face. But hey, at least I learned.

To higher learning, cheers! It's 10% books and 90% experience.

2006-01-03T14:22:00.000+08:00

I'm Linus. Where's My Blanket?

9:22am EST

Last night was horrible. Joined with a bad case of jet lag, issues came up from back in Manila regarding my grandmother's health. Good thing my sister was still there to facilitate trips to and fro the hospital. It's unbelievably scary when things like this happen... when you know you can't really do anything. That helpless feeling that we all hate. I must have downed something like six cups of tea at like three in the morning... joined at the table with my parents. We were all wistfully staring at the phone willing for it to ring.

You know how Europeans (especially *ahem* the Brits) tend to look at tea as sort of a quick fix for everything? "Oh darling, are you okay? Here, let me get you some tea." Well, just for the record, tea does nothing... except to send you to the bathroom at the most random parts of the night when you drink too much of it.

Anyway, I woke up with a jolt today. My eyes fluttered open in confusion. I heard hustle and bustle around the house but I wasn't sure where I was. I sat up... then I realized "Oh yeah, I'm here." I looked out the window and carefully parted the blinds with my fingers to peek. It's dreary white outside. It's the perfect picture of winter -- cold and depressing. The winter that I've always known. It's Day One of the longest week in history.

Finally, I'm back in the place where people drive on the proper side of the road and where people speak the kind of English that I understand. I don't have to second guess anything that comes out of their mouths. Somehow, though, I don't feel like I belong anymore. I used to think that once I'm re-implanted in this environment, everything will just fall into place and all the ill feeling that I've been harboring will just melt away like chocolate ice cream during a heat wave. I thought that once I see Twinkies, CVS, Dr Pepper and the WB channel, the love affair would begin once again. But it hasn't... and it won't.

So much has undoubtedly changed in the past two years... Changes that I won't ever trade for anything.

(Edited: January 3, 2006 - 7:20am EST)

I've come to the conclusion that perhaps the reason why I feel so strongly against this fair city is that things didn't work out for me. And I can still feel the bitterness inside me. I felt the sadness settle in me during my last couple of years here because I innately knew that I wasn't destined to stay and yet I stubbornly tried to fight it. I just had to... because I didn't know any better. I held on until everything around me slowly started collapsing. Until finally, I knew it was time to let go. It goes to show that one can't really fight fate. I don't subscribe to the theory that our lives are written out in the stars but I do believe that some things are just not meant to be. The changes were a bitter pill to swallow but I knew it would immensely make me feel more glorious.

And it did.

Sometimes it can be worth following the road less travelled... Keep the faith.

2006-01-03T02:04:00.000+08:00

Ghost Of New Year Past

9:04pm EST

I'm glad I've come to terms that 2006 is coming... because it's here. Not that I can do much about it. I think I'm ready for it. I'm ready to accept all the changes that have happened and those that are bound to happen. One more bullet to bite -- out of the many that I've already choked on.

I've just arrived here in Boston a couple of hours ago. I feel like Death just ran over me with a vengeance. I don't think I ever got used to all those long-haul flights that I used to take four times a year (for about five years, mind you).

Coming to Boston has instilled a variety of feelings in me. I still haven't quite sorted out what they are, truth be told. I'm exhausted and bushed... and all I want is to lay in bed covered in fluffy comforters and feather-like pillows. I feel like I've been put in some bizarre twilight zone where I'm back to relive the past that I've left behind. The same past that I was hoping to detach myself from.

Upon inserting my key in the keyhole of my brother's flat (my former abode), and turning it slightly to the right and hearing the lock click before the door opens in a warm welcome... I observed the once-familiar place. As I turned on the lights by the foyer, I immediately saw my 22-year-old self running down the stairs, putting on my boots, grabbing my car keys and heading towards my car. It seems like it was just yesterday. I can still feel the sadness that I've kept inside me... the heaviness, the uncertainty. For two years I cradled it; it became a part of me. And this place was a witness to all of it. My bathroom was my refuge. I took profoundly long showers... hot showers that sent steam everywhere. I pretended that the steam were my problems and that I was letting them out.

I entered my former bedroom... and opened up my closet. All the clothes that I left were still there. They still smell of inexperience, naiveity and jadedness. Even my cupboards were still intact. All the consumer goods that I've purchased to boost the retail sales of the good ol' US of A were still there... untouched; as if waiting to be used again.

I'm no longer from around here. I'm officially a visitor... or perhaps a returning one. I'm not here to stay and somehow, this makes me smile of relief. This great city has certainly taught me lots and I've to admit, I was forced to grow up and make numerous major decisions in my life. Unfortunately, I had to take the consequences and results somewhere else...

I'm glad to be back, that's for sure... and because I know I'm not here to stay, everday is like a new dawn.

Happy New Year!

2005-12-30T16:06:00.000+08:00

Silver Lining - From the Notebook

December 30, 2005
10:57pm

I love reading magazines… but I hate having to buy them. I mean, buying them off the newspaper stand usually means you’ve to part with money enough to buy you a good lunch. And a subscription? I just couldn’t be arsed. So the next best thing is reading as many magazines as you can whenever you’re in the salon!

That’s my little nugget of wisdom for today…

Anyway, as my sister, mum and I went to our usual trip to the nail bar to get our manicures and pedicures done earlier today, we indulged ourselves in -- what else? -- magazines! The best ones are those that give you showbiz gossip. It’s one of those things that you just refuse to get caught dead reading in public. And buying them? Let’s not even go there. I shudder at the thought.

See, in the salon, I don’t know why but they put their magazines in these little plastic opaque folders. Perhaps it’s to protect the magazine so they can make sure it’ll last a few hundred customers before they really have to throw away half the face of Angelina Jolie (as the other half of her face has been gone in between readers)… and get as much mileage from the money they used to buy it. Think of how many poor children in Somalia they could have fed with all those magazines. The little folders prevent fellow customers to see what you’re reading. Hence, giving me the comfort and liberty to read whatever it is that I wish to read. In hindsight though, I don’t know why I even bother. Everyone who goes to the salon know that all the reading material in there is 100% trash. Judging a fellow customer on what she reads would be like a pot calling the kettle black. Hah!

Today at the salon, I chanced upon the millionth article on quarter-life crisis (yes, they had it in a tabloid magazine). I’ve read several articles on that particular topic but today’s article struck a different chord in me. They used that dreaded word “milestone.” I do agree with the author that perhaps the reason why twenteens suffer from quarter-life crises is that they put so much pressure on themselves by setting milestones. Fresh right out of college, they set foot on the world thinking that they would be able to bag the perfect job that would give them the fulfillment and benefits that they’re looking for. Then they proceed on to the next logical step which is starting a family. They think it’s an exact science to do all these. They don’t realize that it’s actually a big game of trial and error.

My personal opinion on this is:

Who are we actually comparing ourselves to? The previous generations? There are about a few million things that we have right now that we didn’t have a few years ago… more so a whole generation ago. These things such as technology, added knowledge, enhanced media, higher education, etc, have to be factored in the equation. Before, it seemed perfectly natural for people to finish school and then get married immediately. Some even had to balance both lives. But now, it became such a novelty. In between the two stages comes in masters degrees, internships, traveling, dating vigorously and such. And intertwined among those are career options that have to be weighed out. Things have gotten more complicated. Thus, definitely more different.

I don’t know why we constantly beat ourselves up just because we haven’t achieved X, Y and Z at 25. It’s just a number, for crying out loud. I think it’s perfectly fine to not know what the hell you’re doing at 25... GRANTED that you’re actually doing something. It’s one thing to think about your life and peruse career options while you’re in bed watching DVDs the whole day and out drinking at night. If you’re “finding yourself” at least do it proactively. Pick up a few jobs or projects that will contribute to the ever glowing resume. Despite popular belief, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with trying out a few jobs first and then making a more permanent decision after dipping your fingers in a few things.

I don’t understand why hiring companies make such a huge fuss on why you’ve only stayed X number of months in previous jobs. Staying in a company for more than ten years doesn’t necessarily show loyalty and commitment. Okay, fine, maybe it does… but doesn’t that easily mask settlement and loss of ambition as well? The hunger for new challenges are gone since one has gotten so used to a certain way. When I went to Germany a few years ago with my dad on his business trip, one of his associates informed us that in their country, it’s typical to stay in one company for the rest of your life. Usually, when you shift, your skills, attitude and loyalty are questioned. They ask “Why didn’t they keep you? Or why did you have to move? Did they not find your skills suitable?” Talk about limiting yourself in all aspects.

I reckon that the quarter-life crisis has more to do with career and money more than anything else. Everything stems from it -- may it be about moving out or buying your own car or not being able to find someone and having a family. Why can’t people understand that IT’S FINE! No one has drawn a time table for all these. They’re merely trends. We don’t have to follow all of it per se.

To wrap things up… the quarter-life crisis is a load of crock. It exists because we like creating problems of our own. So just stop it. Whatever it is, just stop it! You’re giving me wrinkles… and I don’t have money for botox.

Nor do I have the tolerance for that kind for pain.

So let’s not worry now, yeah? Screw the quarter-life crisis. It just something that people made up so they can have something to write about… like what I’m doing now.

2005-12-26T14:35:00.000+08:00

Maligayang Pasko - From the Notebook

December 25, 2005
11:15pm

During the amount of time that I’ve been away from writing, I’ve actually been busy gaining weight. No joke. My mouth has not seen the end of food-dom. Bad and fatty food at that. My poor bones probably could no longer support my body anymore. Then again, that’s what spending the holidays in Manila is all about anyway. If you don’t get fat during Christmas, it means that it hasn’t been a good season.

Christmas. Merry Christmas! This year is a mixture of good and bad bits.

Noche Buena (Christmas Eve) was positively brilliant. Yesterday, my relatives came over to our house for Christmas dinner. Everyone was there… all my first cousins, aunts, uncles and my two Lola’s. It has definitely taken me back to memories that are ten years old when every Christmas was still pleasantly predictable. I always knew what Noche Buena would entail: Christmas dinner, going to night mass then gift opening (the best part). Ever since my family has started disheveling into different spectrums of life, Christmas has stopped being predictable. Coming from first hand experience, I’ve learned that Christmas plans may actually get changed at the very last minute. So as I’ve just said, we just never know now, do we?

I didn’t get much this year in terms of presents or money. I must have definitely grown up somehow because I realized that I actually don’t care. Knowing that my family’s together this Christmas is enough to keep me happy. Damn! Times have definitely changed. Obviously, I’m no longer a kid so I wasn’t expecting to receive Aguinaldos (Christmas money) anymore. And it hasn’t been the best year financially for my family… so that kind of closed down more windows in that aspect. But truly, I don’t care. And yes, that is coming from me.

Now the next holiday to look forward to is New Years Day (the non-Lunar calendar one, of course) which will come in a week‘s time. It’s an equally big holiday if compared to Christmas here in the Philippines. It’s complete with massive amounts of food, lots of family members that you usually don’t see during the normal non-holiday periods, Church obligations and FIRE WORKS (woohoo!); I constantly get reminded of my childhood when we would stay up until past midnight and we wait for the clock to strike before we light the biggest and loudest fire cracker we have. And after that, we all sit down on my Lola’s big dining table and eat our stomachs off until the next morning.

I have a week left before we leave and I certainly would like to make the most out of it. 2005 will definitely be one of the best (and most memorable) Christmases ever because it’s one that we all have been anticipating for some time now. Nothing would ever beat Christmas at home. There are other alternatives, of course, but it’ll never compare.

Three cheers to baby Jesus!

2005-12-22T13:49:00.000+08:00

Red - From the Notebook

December 21, 2005
8:49pm

I felt the earth move under my feet -- the tremors and the quakes. It had the same chilling factor that I felt when I read the stories of The Ten Plagues especially the bit when the Angel of Death passed by the villages of Israel and killed the newborns. Bad news were delivered to us today. Tonight, as a matter of fact. My beloved cousin’s father got diagnosed with cancer.

Cancer. An absolutely cold and dreadful word. Terminal.

I’ve been corresponding with my cousin the past couple of nights letting her know of my brother’s wedding in a fortnight and of my visit in Boston. And I let her know that it would be delightful to see her again (like old times before my fateful move) and perhaps grab a cuppa. Little did I know that she had absolutely no idea with what’s going on with her dad. I feel horrendous that a secret so big is being kept from her. Tanya and I, we go way back. There would be periods wherein we wouldn’t contact each other at all but once we see each other, it’d be like no time gap had ever slid by the two of us. We have that kind of relationship. We are cousins and we are friends.

When I learned of my uncle’s news, my thoughts immediately led to her. I know how important her dad is to her and her family. And I know what he has gone through in order to get their family where they are right now. Money has never been an issue for them… but his health has. His health has always been a problem ever since I could remember. None of us thought anything of it… it became a ritual for him to go to his annual surgery in Los Angeles. We’re all just thankful that there’s an actual cure for it -- or at least a way around it. Then it hit us all tonight. Tonight, there’s no more cure. It had run out.

Now what? God knows -- quite literally.

The main thing that affects me is the realization that… it can happen to anyone. Cancer doesn’t discriminate at all. It just happens to anyone that’s ill-fated to have this dreadful disease - fat, rich, ugly, artistic, whomever!!! And what makes it worse is that it can happen to anyone that I know. The next victim could easily be someone in my family or even me! Oh dear God. Please let everything be okay. Protect my family from heartbreak from the loss of a terribly good man. My poor dad. He’s very close to my uncle… My heart goes out to him.

Shame as I was having an almost perfect day (sans tonight, of course). The day was spent grabbing a cuppa with two good friends and several hours in the salon with my mum and sister. I had my annual hair revamp that, as usual, cost about an arm, a leg and a few pounds of gray matter. I tend to not think much of it because relatively, it’s cheaper to get it done here than any other country (including Thailand!). And besides, it’s MY hair. In other words, it’s probably the first thing that anyone ever notices about anyone… so I don’t mind wasting some money on it. If it were on gym membership, for instance, then I wouldn’t be able to say “waste of money” fast enough. Priorities, right? ;)

Anyhow, our stylist made a comment that made my mango shake shoot right out of my nose today: “No wonder shrinks and therapists aren’t very big here in the Philippines… I think it’s because of all the manicurists, hairstylists and masseuse that we have here. I mean, it’s not like you’d need their opinion. You’d just want to be able to unload your problems at them, right? Who needs professional or medical help if you can have similar services AND look good afterwards?”

Touche!

2005-12-21T13:46:00.000+08:00

Bits & Pieces - From the Notebook

December 20, 2005
11:13pm

Funny and random:

“Hindi ko alam kung paano niya nasundan sa pagmamaneho si Albert kanina,” Dad said during dinner as he was talking about what happened during his business luncheon today.

“Bakit? Mabilis ba magpatakbo ng kotse si Albert?” I inquired not quite remembering.

“Naku, nagtanong ka pa!” he exclaimed. “Pero hayaan mo na… narininig ko naman na mababa magpa-lipad ng eroplano si Albert eh.”

Hahahahahaha!

*****

Things that I’ve learned today:

- Being a family is more than sharing the same DNA with each other. It’s about working in a team.

- Friendships and relationships aren’t necessarily very different. Both require the same amount of effort to keep maintained… and both ought to be equally treated in terms of importance.

- It just takes one special someone to make you laugh and it’ll do a whole world of difference to your day.

- Buying expensive and special cakes for your family for no reason makes you feel good (even though you know all those calories would go straight to your hips).

- Even though the breakthrough of mobile phones and the Internet has got to be the best thing since the invention of Tim Tams, I’ve got to admit that it has ruined quite a few things for us… like uninterrupted conversations, luxurious lounging times, etc. Instead of making our lives easier and things more convenient, it just gives us more excuse to work a little bit more because technology would deliver us more vacancies in our time.

- Organic and non-organic lettuce actually taste the same.

- You never know when you’ll get your second wind.

- Courage and confidence are always good to possess but too much of those would just lead you to trouble. Moderation is always key. Never swallow more than what you can chew (regardless of precedent).

- It’s best to usually work in worst case scenarios.

All in a day’s work!

2005-12-20T15:30:00.000+08:00

My Kingdom Come - From the Notebook

December 19, 2005
8:01pm

Blast the stupid government agencies here! I just spent my whole afternoon in line at some government agency so that I can get my documents sorted. My eyes were positively glassy by the time we left. Good thing I was with our two maids (they had to fix their documents too) because if not, I don’t know what I would have done with myself. And of course, of all days, I had to forget today to bring my book. It was already on my table… but I just had to forget it. Brilliant!

I really ought to get myself in the Christmas mood. I may have shopped for gifts already but none of them are wrapped yet. I guess now I know what my day would be like tomorrow. It hasn’t dawned on me yet that Christmas is barely a week away. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why do I need to be sent off to some panic attack in order to accomplish trivial things like wrapping up Christmas presents???

It’s quite eerie as the house seems very quiet and still tonight. It’s not even late; it’s barely after dinner. I bet Gerard is already asleep. Regardless, I do remember days when the night feels hollow like tonight. I can hear sounds coming from far away like the next block or my neighbors from four houses down the road. It’s both very calming and creepy, actually. I recall those nights during high school when I had to cram for big science tests, write long history papers, solve complex trigonometric problems and memorize Shakespearean monologues for English class. I found a friend in the stillness of the night… accompanied by a big mug of overly sweetened coffee (snuck in by one of our maids as I wasn’t allowed to drink coffee then). There were days when my nights directly met with the morning sun. I was crazy enough to pull those but at that time, I thought it was a matter of life and death. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have… because I realized later on that it didn’t have any bearing at all in the bigger unit of life. Then again, it taught me discipline and responsibility. I reckon that we have to at least make sacrifices like that at least once in our lives. After that, I never did it again :P Maybe one day when I decide it’s worth doing it again for a certain cause, I would…

I ought to do something mundane tonight like watch those crappy local TV shoes that I absolutely adore… or *ahem* wrap my presents. I have finally gotten hold of some friends now that I’ve been here for 2 days already. Shame that I don’t have jetlag to use as an excuse of not keeping in touch immediately (like what I always did whenever I’d visit). Right now, however, I don’t feel like socializing too much. I’m pushing off any lunches/dinners until later on this week or next week. I would love to see my friends… especially since I barely have enough of them these days.

Earlier today, I was pondering about that. Funny isn’t it how as we grow older, the fewer friends we tend to have? I mean, I do have people to spend time with or have the quintessential meal with… but I’m quite convinced that the five fingers on my left hand exceed the number of true friends that I have. At least those whom I would trust my life with. When I was younger, I took pride in always having a pager filled with messages from friends… or having a phone that’s constantly ringing that my mum had to literally unplug the phone from my room once. I wasn’t popular but I had enough friends. I’m not sure what happened. Either we all started leading different lives except for the occasional “Lia is in town, let’s all get together for dinner” meals or we merely outgrew each other and found other more interesting elements in life. Nonetheless, I’m not complaining. I know that whenever I come back home to Manila, I will always have someone to say hi to. It’s where I grew up, after all. It’s just up to me to rebuild the circle that I’ve always had somewhere else…

I must have gone through so many chapters in my life already… I can’t expect the world to stand still and hold onto storylines but sticking its finger in between pages. Their stories ought to go on just like how mine is going on. Some characters fade yet some new ones get introduced. Some are there to stay while some don’t. We all have the right to know how our own stories would turn out. And we all ought to sit back and enjoy it.

And cut! It’s a wrap!

2005-12-19T13:05:00.000+08:00

Arrival Check - From the Notebook

Note: Posts that say "From The Notebook" simply mean that it's written at a different time from when it was posted. It's usually due to the "lack of Internet" during the said period. In other words, being away from civilization... While I'm in Manila, most of the posts will be done in batches but I will put on the proper time and date when I've written the entry. Enjoy!

December 18, 2005
12:23am

Oh dear, I'm having a terrible spell of nostalgia and deja vu put together. I'm here once again sitting in my bedroom where I have spent every single day of my life in between the ages of 13 and 17. I'm on the same spot where my old laptop used to be -- the center desk of my wall unit facing an old caricature that was drawn in Fisherman's Wharf 1990 during our San Francisco trip. I was even able to locate the swivel chair that I used when I was in high school. I’m back to wearing my pink furry Hello Kitty slippers too. Good times! I feel like eight years of my life has never gone by.

I had to hijack my dad’s laptop just so I can have something to use to update this blog. Not everything is updated real-time, of course… but all the entries are written real-time at least. Whatever that means.

The plane flight today has got to be the longest one I’ve ever been on my entire life. I really pity Gerard for having a really hard day. The kid totally got overwhelmed upon discovering that there are actually more than five people on earth (more than the five people that he usually sees at home). As a matter of fact, there are tons more than that. The poor baby doesn’t get out of the flat much… and today he saw more than what he bargained for. He’s sleeping soundly right now probably dreaming in the land of milk and honey. Hopefully he’ll be recharged by tomorrow as tomorrow’s another action-filled day for him.

As for me, let’s just say that I have newfound respect for those single mothers that travel with their babies. I honestly don’t know how they do it -- full stop! More so, I have no idea how they can pull it off without having any help from anyone. Even my sister had to say to me, “I don’t even want to think about having to travel back without you.” Well, admittedly, it’s nice to be needed once in a while ;)

Now that I’ve had a scrumptious meal (albeit late; more prone to piling me up on calories) and a luscious hot shower, I think the next best thing is to have a peaceful night on my favorite bed in the world.

2005-12-18T13:20:00.000+08:00

Circus Act - From the Notebook

December 18, 2005
12:05pm

I have never been to a circus my entire life… not once, not ever! I have never seen acrobats doing their fancy flips and jumps; the clowns with bright red noses and sad smiles; wild cat tamers dressed in gold sequins and curly toed shoes; and dancing children with cotton candy and sparks.

Somehow, though, I don’t feel deprived of all the action, the fantasies and the chaos. I got reminded today that I grew up in a circus. And all my life I’ve been a member of it -- the tight rope walker with the man-eating lion and canon ball shooter in my periphery all the time.

My household, my family…

I’ve been awake for a couple of hours now. We’ve already gone to church and back; and in a few moments, we’ll be having what I would think would be a positively heavy lunch. I heard that relatives would be coming in to visit -- more circus performers, I guarantee you.

Oh crap... I just heard the door bell. Please... If you don't hear from me in a few hours, send a search party for me...

2005-12-17T16:07:00.000+08:00

Miracle

It's totally amazing that I was able to get through my day in one piece... Up until now, I have no idea how it happened. Last night, I was absolutely convinced that I'll never survive today. Thinking about my schedule would send me in tears. I don't think I remember breathing at all the whole day... it's only now I got to pull myself together and realize that it's all over. I made it. Finally.

Work was just beyond me. I have never accomplished so much in my life in eleven hours. I never thought I could be so productive! It really sets precedent. I would never want a repeat performance of today though. I would have to start going on botox sessions and putting them on my expense account. Today also included social obligations to colleagues because it was Sani's farewell dinner. How can one think of a better way than to spend my last night in Singapore with chilli crab and three glasses of bad wine? And half an hour of hogging the mic during karaoke while eating wasabi nuts? Absolutely perfect...

Now we're onto the last two weeks of 2005. As per my colleague, 2006 ought to be a good year for the Rooster. See, I never really believed in these bollocks but seriously, I never hear anything good about my zodiac signs -- may be it Chinese or whatever! I'm beginning to think that some drunken guy back in ancient China decided to do an inventory of his animal farm and made up this whole crap about star signs and whatnot. Then he decided to write a book about it and made millions of money conning people into thinking that their lives are laid out for them in forms of animals and elements. Brilliant man! I wish I thought of it first. Don't even get me started on feng shui!

Anyway, the holidays... the last fortnight of 2005. It ought to be interesting. As a matter of fact, I'm looking forward to the change of scenery. My mum called me at work earlier and said, "When was the last time you were home?"

I thought about it for a while. "A little over a year ago, I think," I replied. "Why?"

"Oh, because your two lolas claim that they're missing you so much because they haven't seen you for the longest time," she said. "Are they right?"

Hel-lo?!?! I'm your own daughter! Don't you remember when I was there last?

Needless to say, yes, it's been a while and as usual, just before every trip I take back to Manila, I feel very giddy and excited. These emotions, however, usually dissolve after half an hour of landing in the godforsaken country. Reality just rushes straight to my skull and makes me lightheaded. I'm willing to bet my left arm that this will exactly be the case tomorrow night when I arrive...

I just can't wait to eat all the good food...

2005-12-14T04:14:00.000+08:00

Food For The Gods

One thing I always say to my friends about being in Singapore... is that no matter how little you earn, you know you'll still be well-fed. It's unlike bigger cities like New York or London or Paris -- even Hong Kong! You can absolutely live on SG$20 a day if you're willing to forgo luxury and lavishness.

The weather, as usual, is crappy outside. Today called for a total lunch in. I don't even want to bother walking to a far away take away place because I don't want to get wet. And truth be told, I just can't be arsed. I just wanted food. I decided to go to the hawkers center (food court sort of) downstairs to buy some nourishment for my poor sick body. This is what I ended up with:

- One bowl of Ban Mian hand made noodle soup - SG$ 3.20
- Three extra shrimp dumplings (my special request) - SG$ 1.30
- One glass of fresh papaya juice - SG$ 2.00

In total, it was SG$ 5.50 -- and I would surely be filled! I would probably buy some snacks later on in the afternoon which would cost me another couple of dollars, but still! It's good AND healthy food. None of those million-calorie Mickey D's meals. You know what I mean? When I was working in Boston, my lunch would cost me at least US$ 10.00 (may it be take away or not). That's why I had to resort to bringing my lunch to work with me... but even groceries are quite expensive too.

That's the thing about Singapore though. If you have a family here, feeding them may be the death of you. I don't know about you but I don't exactly approve of feeding my family 'da bao' everyday... so that means you'd have to cook constantly. Groceries here can be quite expensive especially the meat. Because it's such a tiny place, almost everything has to be imported. Vegetables and fruits are from various neighboring countries and meat is usually from Australia. Imagine, you still have to pay for the airfare of the animal you're about to eat! If you're living by yourself, it would be helluva lot cheaper to buy food as opposed to cooking. It's a lot less hassle as well. And best of all, LESS DISHES TO CLEAN! Woohoo that's the best part ;)

You can well imagine that I'll be 'da bao queen' once I move out on my own. I'm not going to cook unless I really have to... or unless I start getting sick of take away. I hope I don't though or else I wouldn't know what to do. I'm not the type to be extremely fussy about what I eat. And at least I'll be eating Asian food.

If I had to do Western take away everyday... then that's another story.

2005-12-11T04:46:00.000+08:00

Skin Color Blindness

I had an epiphany today. I actually like kids. I do, I do!

I went to accompany my sister and Gerard to the doctor today and as usual, it had to involve a one-hour wait. See, this is what I hate about going to doctors. No matter how much you confirm your appointment with them, you'd still have to wait for at least an hour. And the bad thing is, doctors' offices usually have bad magazines in the waiting room.

Nothing terribly new today. I underwent all of the above... including the reading of medical journals that I couldn't, for the life of me, find interesting even if I tried to. So I resorted to the next best thing: watch the kids play. See, one good thing about Singapore, I must admit, is the diversity of people. In the waiting room were little kids of all colors... and all accents too. They were all so cute! Seeing a painfully shy Chinese little girl playing the xylophone with a talkative British young boy just does something to strike your heart strings. And a few minutes later, they are to be joined by a bright-eyed Indian girl with her little sister in tow. And then a Danish boy would come in to see what's going on. En route to the crowd, he would accidently bump into this Filipino girl trying to eat her noodles with a Chinese spoon.

It's truly amazing how kids are absolutely color blind. That's how the world ought to be. Kids don't see color differences at all. All they see are fellow children that want the same thing as them. To play. And have some fun. Playing seems to be quite universal. There isn't any language barrier at all.

I want to have kids of my own some day. And I am sincere in saying that. They're absolutely beautiful... all of them. I will love my kids like no other.

I promise you that.

2005-12-09T16:39:00.000+08:00

Escapism or Lunacy?

I'm quite a dreamer, did you know? And I don't mean goals, aspirations and ambitions... I meant, daydreams and fantasies. I was watching "The Importance of Being Earnest" a few days ago and I was laughing at Reese Witherspoon's character for creating all these fantasies about a knight sweeping her off her feet with fairies in the background. I shouldn't, really. Because I know that deep inside me, the little princess lives as she awaits her prince to come rescue her. And not only that, she's been living with me since time immemorial. And I doubt she'll be dying any time soon.

I've always resorted to my mythical creations as methods of escapism. I make up stories in my head that weaves my current life with it. Admittedly, it makes it so much more interesting (both my stories and my current life). I wish there was some quick and instant way where I could capture these thoughts somehow. I used to write them down in forms of stories, anecdotes, poems and narrations. The problem was... before I would finish any of them, I would get tired of the creation and proceed to conjuring up a new one. Fastidious, am I not? Rather impatient as well.

I have embarked on a new project as of late. I've decided to push myself to write another novel (the nth one in my young life). It's nowhere to be grand as any published ones but knowing that I've written something in my lifetime is good enough for me. That's basically what I want to do... to prove to myself that I can do it. It also passes my time and oils up my brains. I desperately need a hobby. One that I would be passionate about is ideal but for now, this will do. I'm just a bit curious... I wonder how long this would actually hold up.

Here's to creativity... and here's to perseverance. Cheers!

2005-12-09T06:02:00.000+08:00

2005 - My Year In Review

What did you do in 2005 that you hadn't done before?

Acquire a new language :) I took up Mandarin but never mind the fact that I hardly use it and that I have forgotten more than half my lessons already. They all just start coming back to me whenever I have to order from Chinese restaurants or when I have to haggle down a price when shopping.

On a lighter note, I did to go for a Brazilian. I felt like a baby! I can't say that I'll ever do it again though. It's one of those things you do for experience's sake... But hey, it's probably one of the most courageous things I've ever done.

Did anyone close to you give birth?

As a matter of fact, yes! My sister gave birth to the most incredible baby, Gerard. He's only the most incredible for now while I don't have my own yet. Once I give birth, he/she will not only be the most incredible but also the most beautiful baby ever!

Did anyone close to you die?

Thank heavens, no. Although I did hear of numerous deaths this year. May God bless their souls.

Did you travel? Where did you go? Best holiday memory?

Oooh yes! I went to London on business for two weeks last August. Had a blast! It was my first time to go to Europe on my own. The best part was that I had an expense account (and expensed practically everything!). I also went to Bangkok last March during Easter with my parents. It was my second time there... and I have absolutely fallen in love with the city. No one can host shopping sprees as well as Bangkok does!

Best thing you bought?

The Shu Uemura Water Perfect foundation :) Not to be vain or anything, but it erases all marks on my face immaculately. It's a bit pricy but it actually lasts quite a bit -- about 6 months on daily usage. Who says that you can't buy good skin???

Where did most of your money go?

Oh good lord, I don't even know. I reckon I spent most of my money on food -- may it be cheap or expensive, it's still food. I ate pretty well in 2005 ;) The rest of my money has gone to the SFF (Shopping Foundation Fund). I'm a girl, you can't blame me!

What do you wish you had done more of?

I wish I could've traveled a lot more. There are still so many places I would like to go. Starting next year, 2006, I plan to go to at least one country I've never been to before. I still have Australia, China and Spain on my list. I need to cross out at least one of them soon!

What do you wish you had done less of?

Like every year, I wish I spent less. Wishing is easy to do but it's the doing bit that's the hard part. I wish I could get myself to save more for the future, you know? I know that saving is directly correlated to earnings but I reckon that if you want something really badly, you can do it no matter what. I will try to save more in the upcoming year but with my expenses ballooning up because I'm going to be moving out, it's going to be a tad more difficult. But I will still try... (right!)

What kept you sane?

Sane? Me? Hah! Neverrrrrr!

Writing helped me a lot... to reflect on and think of my life. It still helps...and I know it always will.

What drove you mad?

As much as I can say that I'm much happier being in Singapore than I was back in Boston, I have to admit that the local mentality here can really drive me crazy. Perhaps it's just me finding an excuse for my own impatience and incompetence but really, I find myself grunting and sighing a lot when it comes to typically Singaporean mentality. And most of all, the local accent and lingo truly truly truly drive me insane. Why can't they speak proper English here?

What made you celebrate?

Getting my offer for my job and getting approved for my employment pass... I knew I was here to stay.

How was your birthday this year?

Freakin' awesome! I've to say, the past few birthdays have constantly reminded me that birthdays are just another normal day. It just so happened that you were born on that day X amount of years ago. But this year, it was great! It will always be remembered as one of the best birthdays I've ever had. I reckon that 80% of it is because of the company I was with. You're truly fantastic, Ate ;) I'm glad to be your sister.

What political/economic issue stirred you the most this year?

I started out in the industry that I am in now only in May of this year. And I'd have to admit that before that, I never really paid attention to politics and economics (ie. I didn't really care)... but I've realized that they do influence our lives in a significant way. All the global terrorisms and political uprisings have opened my eyes to the truth that we're all affected one way or another... and that we ought not take those for granted. We may be far away from the physical location of a tragedy but we will still suffer the consequences.

The biggest tragedy that really moved me was the tsunami in Thailand and India. I was there the week it happened and, thank the Lord, we were already back in Singapore when it took place. It only took a simple twist of fate to save us.

What would you like to have in 2006 that you didn't have this year?

I'd like to have my own place. As much as I love my family, I can't keep on living with them forever. I like having my space and something to call my own. Sure, it's initially going to be lonely but I think it'll be worth it. And next month, I'm moving out :)

What song will remind of 2005?

Not per se... but my favorite song in 2005 is 'Rainbow' by Southborder. I absolutely love, love, love that song! I listened to it all the time in my computer :)

Compared to this time last year are you happier?

Yes, very much so. Making the bold move to relocate back to Asia has deemed to be one of the best decisions I've ever made. I'm tremendously happier over here and I've found a better sense of independence (financially and mentally).

Biggest achievement this year?

I think finally settling down in Singapore was my biggest achievement this year. I have a good track record of being a flake... I never seem to settle down somewhere (job, apartment, country, etc). And coming to Singapore with nothing in tow is a big turning point in my life. Learning Chinese, finding a job, meeting good friends and finally, getting my own place... quite an achievement, I would say so myself. And I'm proud of myself for finally finding a decent home for the moment. Finally finding settledness...

Biggest disappointment this year?

I went through a variety of disappointments early on this year when I was struggling to find a job. I had my heart set on specific places but didn't get any of them. As I've discovered, life has its ways of surprising you at the end. I found a job that's not my ideal job but it's all right. I met good friends through work and I've learned a lot from it too. That's all I need from it... I can always get another job at another time anyway. For now, I'll just ride the waves and see where it takes me. You never know, right?

What is the one thing that would have made you more satisfied?

Instinctively, I would say I'd be happier if I had a better job. But I have a feeling that this is a classic case of "the moon is rounder from the other continent." I know right now, even though I'm badly paid, the job itself isn't horrible. I'd like to think that I have job security here... and I actually enjoy being with my colleagues now (as opposed to a few months ago). I don't mind my job right now. And I'm still learning a lot of things.

Best new person you met this year?

I met my soul sister Val :) It's pretty funny because she isn't the typical person I'd get along with. Perhaps it was the common bitterness we had towards work that brought us together... but whatever it was, I'm glad it did. She's terrific. Couldn't ask for a better friend.

A valuable life lesson you learnt this year?

Very simple -- that God has a plan for each one of us and that we should just leave everything up to Him. All we need is a little faith and roll with the punches. There's always light at the end of the tunnel. Or as Southborder says "There's always a rainbow at the end of the rain."

2005-12-07T04:33:00.000+08:00

Lunch Break Ramblings

Oh my head, my head... it hurts. I'm going positively mental!!!

Finally, I get a few minutes to breathe a little. It's been a mad morning and all I want to do is just sit here and do absolutely nothing. And stay that way until the day ends. Work is, of course, abusing me again... but what can a girl do? I need to eat and shop (somehow that would always be in the equation). I'm totally looking forward to my holiday in a couple of weeks. I don't care if I have to deal with family drama (I'm definite that I would though). I don't understand how those workaholics can actually enjoy working. I mean, no kidding that it's a sickness. It's one sickness that I really don't want to acquire. Thank God it's not contagious!

I don't even have the energy to go buy lunch. I had to get a colleague to get me some nourishment -- again! I can't get used to this. I'm pasty and I need some sun. I sit indoors way too much... and by the time I get out, it's already dark. The sad thing is, the sun doesn't really set until about 7pm. That's my day for you!

Thinking of getting some culture in my bloodstream. Val's asking me if I'd be interested in watching the Parisian show "Crazy Horse" some time next week. It looks quite interesting as I've never seen such a thing before. We'll see... perhaps it would be a good idea to go. I haven't seen any stage performance in years and I do miss it. It would be a good Christmas present to myself as well. We all need that once in a while right? *wink*

One thing that I've noticed about highly metropolitan Asian cities like Hong Kong and Singapore is that it's not really very rich in culture like that. Unlike, for instance, Paris, New York, London or even Sydney... we don't have proper theater districts and strings of performances. It's just kind of scattered and random over here. People's ideas of having fun always involve shopping, booze, networking dinners and such. I would love to rekindle my love for the arts, really. Don't get me wrong, I'm not the Bohemian type or anything of the sort... but I like being able to plan a Friday night of trekking to the theater after a good dinner with good people. You know what I mean?

Everyone should be able to do that whenever they please...

2005-12-04T11:16:00.000+08:00

More Points For Gluttony

My sister truly knows how to bribe her baby sister. She talked me into not leaving the house tomorrow because she's letting the maids go on holiday and she doesn't want to be left alone with Gerard. She knew exactly how to get me -- through my stomach!

She was getting totally aggravated late this morning when I refused to get out of bed at 11:45am. I mean, hel-lo... it's just MY Saturday and I happen to like staying in bed. Every warm and cold body in my household knows that. I didn't understand why she was so adamant that I get out of bed, get dressed and eat lunch with her. I knew that we had a facial scheduled for 2:30pm but that's about it. So yeah, thanks to her that I had another squabble with Christian about not having time to talk to him again. Sigh.

Anyway, it turned out that she made brunch reservations at the Four Seasons for today. She meant it as a surprise for me... because she just discovered it recently. No, there wasn't any liquor this time, just food. Chinese food, actually. It was grrrreat! Of course we had to have the shark's fin soup *wink* but it was bottomless everything (both the food and drinks). As usual, we racked up more points in hell for being gluttons. We had too much food again. The thing is, I don't think it's really bad to indulge in good food like today... as long as it's once in a while. But at the record that we're going, we've been indulging on brunches almost every fortnight already. Now THAT'S a different story. We could've probably fed two third world countries already with how much we've eaten between the two of us the past month.

To add to that, we went to our facial that last about 1 & 1/2 hours. Okay, think about this... 2 hours of continuously stuffing our faces with good-but-not-exactly-the-healthiest-Chinese food plus 1 & 1/2 hours of laying down in bed while someone primps with our faces. I can just imagine how the food in our stomachs were solidifying and settling in as fats. Perfect! Just perfect!

Now I feel fat. I can feel new fat cells poking through my older fat cells... And once they're acquainted, they'll burst into the Irish jig. How fun.

Die you damn fats... DIIIIIIIIIIIE!!!!

2005-12-03T04:55:00.000+08:00

Santa Came In As A Post Man

Weee! After waiting for what seems like eternity, my Ibook finally arrived last night... woohoo! The ebay guy was "kind enough" to absorb my shipping costs from the US to Singapore but I had no idea he was going to do it via surface mail. I mean, come on. SURFACE??? Was he gargling bong water? Needless to say, it indeed took ages for my precious to arrive. But it's here it's here it's here! I don't care anymore... it's here! I've a new toy!

I remember I was only about 9 or 10 years old when I had my first contact with a computer. My mum bought it for my Ate and Kuya because they needed it for school and stuff. It was still DOS-based, had a B-freakin-drive, makes use of a 5.25 floppy, had no mouse, utilized WordStar -- get this -- 4.0 (!!!) and wasn't colored at all. Good stuff! I sat down on the chair and ran my hand through the keyboard and thought to myself "Wow, it looks really different from the typewriter that Lola uses." And I recall thinking that the monitor resembles the maids' TV in their room. Kuya booted it up for me and I saw all these strange words come up... and I had no idea what to do next. I didn't know how to work it. It all looked so alien to me... very high-tech!

Fifteen years later, after graduating with a degree in IT (and working in IT), I felt that fleeting emotion again last night... looking at my Ibook and not knowing how it works. I felt like a fraud! You see, I've never been the biggest fan of Macs. The only reason why I got the old Ibook is for pure aesthetic purposes. I just find it cute (sue me!). So yeah, most of the night was spent tinkering with it and playing around. So much fun! I felt like a kid again... You can guess what this weekend will have in store for me... Ho hum! YES YES YES I'm a geek behind all my Gucci bags, Shu Uemura make-up, red highlights, french-manicured nails and pink mobile phone...

2005-12-02T03:28:00.000+08:00

Measure Of A Man

I fully subscribe to the theory that everyone is either underpaid or overpaid. Seriously. Regardless how good or bad your professional history is, you fall under either category. Unfortunately, that's how life works.

I, of course, feel that I'm the former. Not because I'm a bitter struggling professional but because it's true! In the few years that I've worked, I never felt that I'm earning enough. I always have to struggle to make ends meet... and I always feel broke. My bank account numbers always look sad. Then again, isn't that the quintessential mentality and way of life? I know, I know, I'm just starting out yada yada but with the amount of work I do, I always feel that I should be compensated more. I also am aware that it doesn't help that I work for a company that doesn't acknowledge their employees' hard work and significant contributions.

Whinging aside, I know I could be worse off. My rant regarding this subject matter can be endless but at the end of the day, I know that I'm still fine. I can still afford to be well-fed, to house and clothe myself, and I still have a little bit left to shop here and there. It just takes some discipline (and a lot of will-power). And no matter how little I earn, I still have the abovementioned. I guess that's more than enough. It's just my arrogance and unstroked ego that talks most of the time. We can't always compare ourselves to other people... because there will always be someone who's better off. Even though it's perfectly human to desire something that's not currently within your possession... it can also have a negative effect on how you run your life. I've to learn how to be contented. I've to learn to appreciate what I have instead of moan and groan about what I don't have. Admittedly though, it's quite fun to do that sometimes.

I guess today I realized that money is not the measure of a person (though people have this common misconception may it be conscious or not). As a matter of fact, it's his/her attitude towards money. I am currently in a society where people treat money as a the sole object of their lives. If only it's not horribly wrong to worship money, there would be millions of temples out there dedicated to it. And I simply refuse to be one of them. Sure, it gives me ephemeral pleasures in life... but I know enough that money alone will not make me happy. And this I can say most confidently.

As I frequently say: it's just money, it can be earned. Love, friendship and courage cannot be earned. And I'd rather have those any time.

I don't propagate the lack of ambition but wherever you are in your life, enjoy it and make the most out of it at least. Trust me, that will make getting onto the next step more gracious.

2005-11-30T13:16:00.000+08:00

Fever Pitch

I know, I know... I have some sort of verbal diarrhea today. It's just that I'm feeling a bit misty and nostalgic after watching that movie, Fever Pitch, with my sister. It's about the Boston Red Sox.

Oh sigh...

Boston. It's such a beautiful city. I can't believe I was there for five whole years and didn't realize how great it is. I guess seeing it in a big-picture-sort-of-way made me appreciate it more. It made my heart twitch seeing the big Citgo sign and remembering driving by Fenway Park from Storrow Drive to get to my old apartment on Commonwealth Ave (that's Comm Av for you *wink*). And of course, the endless shopping strolls down Newbury St eventually heading towards the Boston Public Library and the Prudential Tower. And Boston Common's just perfection. Sure, it's not exactly Central Park... but that's the beauty of it. It's awesome in its own right. Boston is awesome. It's one helluva city.

When I went to London last August, God knows how many times I said that it looks just like Boston. It does! I mean, it's not called New England for nothing, right? The infrastructure, the culture, the ambience... it all kind of gelled together. But of course we all know that London is London. It's one of the greatest cities in the world and it's incomparable to anything. Bottomline, London reminded me so much of Boston... the cobblestones and the quaint environment. Leicester Square has an uncanny resemblance to Harvard Square, I think. I miss that place a lot. I have probably ridden the Bentley shuttle to Harvard Square to catch the T a million times... but I would never have thought that I'd be sitting here, writing on my journal from an equally fantastic city in South East Asia, fondly recalling my memories of alighting that damn bus that smelled like fish during the winter.

Oh well. I've decided to close that chapter in my life. The only binding thing I have with the city is my brother who's still there. I've started anew, from scratch; trying to rebuild my life ground up. I wonder when the time will come that I will recall my memories of living in Singapore. Which city would I live in next? And how many more cities will I be able to live in? It's an exciting question... with answers to be anticipated.

2005-11-30T10:43:00.000+08:00

Shocker

Bloody hell... didn't I just turn 24 yesterday? How come my calendar says that tomorrow's the last day of the month? Where have I been??? How did it get to December without my knowing? Does that explain the magic wrinkles that I see on my face whenever I look at myself in the mirror every morning?

Man... It's like someone hides the days in his pocket and neglects to inform people that he's taking them away. Everyone's just too busy with their lives and routines. Don't people realize that working just drains the lives out of us? Isn't it funny how working is called "making a living?" It's not making a living at all. Rather, it's more of "taking away the living."

2005-11-29T03:38:00.000+08:00

A Visitor

I think my ghost visited me again... and this time, he said it's going to be for a while. When I asked what gave me the honor of his visit, he said "It's to make you appreciate the bed of roses that people create for you to lay on." He took his bags, went straight up to my room and lay down on my bed to catch up on his snooze. And there I was, left at the bottom of the staircase, dumbfounded and scratching my head. He's like a tax collector... you never know when he'll come by to seek payment for luxuries that I've enjoyed.

So as to not bother my resting ghost, I'm submerging myself in my usual routine. Until he leaves and until I get over it. In the meantime, I will cling onto those people that provide me love and support... for without them, I wouldn't be where I am right now.

It's quite difficult to grasp the concept of not being dependent on anyone. Simply counting on yourself and not trusting anyone. I don't question people's innate capabilities to be independent... but isn't it, without a doubt, that we need other people as well? We're all allowed to falter once in a while. And during those times, we ought to allow ourselves to be picked up by our loved ones and be restored to life. To have faith in them when we don't have enough faith within us. And in this just world, we are also given opportunities to do the same thing for others. It's give and take.

So I reckon it's perfectly all right to admit that we cannot make it on our own... and that we aren't as strong as we think we are. After all, we're just human. We help each other out and we fulfill each others' setbacks. It's something that we don't realize everyday. We only get to unfold truths like this during the most trying times... and unfortunately, during the most painful times as well.

As my ghost stays with me for the next few weeks, I call out to the higher powers to give me strength to endure everything that he'll put me through. And I cry my thanks to all my angels around me (both in heaven and on earth) for always being here for me. Thank you, my love, especially... as you are truly magical. Thank you for always being my pillar of fortitude and knowledge. I promise you, that when it's your time to be visited, I will be there for you too.

So to my ghost, welcome to my abode. Please enjoy your stay.

2005-11-26T15:47:00.000+08:00

Happy To Be A Girl!

My hair feels like a silk coat embracing my neck, shoulders and upper body. I think this is the longest that my hair has ever grown. It's quite funny because for the first 18 years of my life, my hair never went past my ears. Never had I dreamt that my hair is actually capable of growing past that. I could probably have been mistaken for a boy easily if it weren't for my breasts *looks down and admires* Hmm... And it didn't help that my fashion muses only decided to take pity on me after I turned legal and actually began doing their work. I'm sure they didn't want their little project be condemned for having a bad haircut and disastrous clothing... and be a social pariah. They would probably have to face the master muse with crestfallen faces and admit that they've done a horrid job.

Tough to be a girl...

I spend a decent amount of time flipping through girly magazines every month and fantasizing about stuff that I can't afford but would love to have. I cherish periods like this because it's a way for me to celebrate my womanhood. Of course, I also express my appreciation for it through shopping sprees, guiltless trips to the salon or nail bars, gossiping with girl friends and watching chick flicks. Nonetheless, it's great. I love it. I can be your typical annoying girl that takes ages to get ready, to primp with her hair and make up, and to refuse to leave the house unless her shoes match her purse. It's all part of being blessed with x-chromosomes. And I don't care what guys say or how much they complain, I'm willing to bet my left foot that guys love that about girls too. Hey, after all, we're from a totally different planet. Aren't we novel?

The perfect Friday night is spent meeting a girl friend after work for dinner, going back home to plop in front of the TV with a good movie in the DVD player (or on HBO), doing your nails while watching, talking to another girl friend on the phone (or online) to gossip, pampering your body with ridiculously overpriced spa treatments from The Body Shop and then heading off to deep slumber. It's nice and simple... not complicated at all.

I love being a girl *hugs myself*

2005-11-17T12:06:00.000+08:00

My Hate List

I don't think I'm fussy at all (only because I've met people who are far more fussier than I am)... but I do have quite a hate list:

1) Waiting
2) Eating alone without a book
3) Cancelled, rescheduled and postponed events
4) ... especially at the last minute
5) Hospitals (the odor of cleanliness freaks me out)
6) Bad hair days
7) People not taking care of my stuff
8) People touching my stuff without asking me
9) Chipped nail polish
10) Taking orders from people (there is such a thing as "being nice")
11) Arrogant people (especially the ugly ones)
12) PMS (hel-lo, bloatedness!)
13) Bad customer service
14) Pretty and skinny girls with flawless skin
15) Girls who were once fat then became pretty and skinny (and has flawless skin)
16) Sweets (because I always end up eating them)
17) Failing
18) Being broke all the time
19) Being unable to wear shorts because of my fat legs
20) Dogs (and everything else that moves except humans)
21) Being near #20 without a cage or glass between us
22) Not getting everything I want
23) Knowing that I'll never get everything I want
24) Cleaning and doing chores
25) Getting forced to clean and do chores
26) Being stuck in a helpless situation
27) Incompetent people
28) Worrying
29) The fact that I always do #28 (I can't help it!)
30) Being far away from Ian :(

No, the list isn't done yet. I just happen to need to go because I'm having coffee with my sister and my mother. Ta-ta for now!

2005-11-15T14:52:00.000+08:00

My Mother, The Survivor

It's late and I'm tired. Actually, I'm exhausted. Yet I feel compelled to write. I have just spent the past six hours seeing my mother at her worst. Strangely enough, I know that she will be all right. I'm not worried at all because I know the Big Guy will take good care of her (like always) but seeing her at that state kills me.

Attempting to shop with her earlier ended up with more frustrations than anything... my therapy obviously doesn't work for everyone. Hell, it used to work on her, I've no idea why the magic decided to stop working now. I had a meal with her... a stroll a few times around the block and late night coffee afterwards. All that time spent with her, I said something to the tune of five words. I let her do the talking... that seems to be her therapy so I gave it to her.

We touched on a few different things tonight... all of them familiar. Every time Mama comes to Singapore, we never fail to visit the same coffee shop and have the same conversation. Of course, spun in different ways but practically the same concept. Hearing herself narrate her problems makes her feel good, I reckon. It provides her with the bigger picture and perhaps makes her realize it's really not that bad (regardless of how bad it really is). Once again, tonight, I listened as she talked. I, however, like having these repetitive conversations with her because it reiterates a lot of things to me. It emphasizes the importance of God and religion in my life and also integrity, values and principles. It pulls me down to earth and makes me rethink of everything that I do in my life... and how it's on par with what I ought to be really doing.

Something that I've always known: everything is relative. Frequently whenever I find myself in my own company, I sit down where I'm invisible to everyone... and observe people. I always wonder what their problems might be. How do they feel? What do they do? How do they handle it? And I'm certain that everyone's problems vary in degrees of difficulty. What may seemingly be small to us may actually be a matter of life and death to someone else. As I've mentioned, it's all relative. We all have problems... no matter how big or small, those problems given to us are those that we can definitely handle. God is fair; He will not give us anything that's beyond us. I told my mum earlier that whenever I pray, I never pray for God to give me an easier load. Rather, I ask Him to give me a stronger back. He already has all the solutions to my problem... He's just waiting for me to be ready before He actually gives them to me.

So God... Ikaw na ang bahala. Sa lahat.

Through the intercession of Mother Mary... and in the mighty name of Jesus, I claim here and now that my prayers have already been granted. I lift up to you my mother... and all her problems. Amen.

2005-11-15T07:20:00.000+08:00

Hormones? I hope so!

I don't know why I'm so irritable today. Just like any other woman, I would love to use hormones as an excuse but unfortunately, my period just ended. I'm not PMS-ing nor am I menopausal (god forbid!). Everything just seems to irritate the crap out of me today. Maybe it's because it's mid-afternoon and I haven't left the house yet. And I'm with my mother under the same roof! And worse, my sister just abandoned me for a business trip to Hong Kong. I don't care if it's for only one day. One day is still too long! Could my mum's hormonal problems be rubbing off on me? After all, she's the one who's menopausal...

I'm probably having some kind of quarter-life crisis for the mentally retarded. I'm too fat, I'm too broke, I'm too tired, I'm too untalented, I'm too tall, I'm too easily jealous, I'm too anxious, I'm too impatient, I'm too bitchy, I'm too EVERY GODDAMN THING! Why does everything have to be the extremes for me? And why do all my extremes always gear towards the negative aspect of things? What is wrong with me???

If this isn't my hormones speaking, hoo boy, it'll be interesting once PMS kicks in this month. I don't even want to think about being pregnant.

I'm eating an apple right now because I'm hungry. Would it be a messed up thing to say if I said that I take pride in feeling my stomach churning? Aaah, I miss that feeling. When I was in my 1200-calorie diet a few months ago, I would constantly feel hungry because my stomach was always churning. Well, by jove... I have it again. I don't care if that sounds uber-eating-disorder-ly... but it feels good. It does right now, anyway. Hopefully by tomorrow when I wake up, this will be over.

I can't help but wonder though... what's going to be my issue tomorrow?

When I go home for Christmas, I want to look smashing. Because with some of my relatives, the last time they saw me was during my sister's wedding two years ago. And you know what, I was Ms. Butterball of the Year at that time. And trust me, I didn't enjoy seeing those pitiful stares... standing alongside my I've-to-be-skinny-for-my-wedding sister. So now is my time to throw it all back to their faces. I want them to see that I've lost weight and that I have gorgeous hair (have to work on that still, by the way)... well, I've already lost weight but I've gained back some of it already. I still have one month to go.

See what I mean? Why am I so angsty today? Goodness... I wouldn't want to be with me right now.

2005-11-13T10:43:00.000+08:00

LBD

I bought a new dress today :) And I love it. I got it from Zara... it's black and made of soft lush satin with a balloon skirt. It's very simple, that's why I like it. And I bought it for no other reason other than the fact that it flatters me. I don't even remember the last time that I've bought a dress. I feel so girly today! Teehee...

I just love days like today. Days wherein you're totally unproductive and it doesn't matter at all. The past few weeks I constantly have something going in my head that I really couldn't relax. I would actually dread sleeping for a while because it just meant having to wake up again in the morning... and the vicious cycle goes on. But today seems different for some reason. I reckon it's because I know that I have the next week off... and that I can afford to kick back a little and take it slow. Well, if that's the case, then I pray that this week would never end! It's indeed a well-deserved break.

2005-11-12T16:35:00.000+08:00

My Singapore Sling

I've been here in Singapore for about 15 months now... yes, more than a year. That's long, isn't it? For me, at least. It honestly doesn't feel like it's been more than a year. Seems like it was only yesterday when I first entered my Chinese class at the NUS and it seems like it was only yesterday afternoon that I got offered my job. Damn... the next thing I know, it would already have been 10 years. God forbid.

During my short/long stay here (it really depends how you look at it), I've gotten to accustomed to my family here in Singapore. My sister and brother-in-law were truly great for letting me into their lives. It's been fun... it still is :) And then came the latest addition, little Gerard. So much has happened in the past 15 months: my sister had a family, they got better job opportunities, I actually got a job (and still keeping it), I learned another language and most importantly, I grew up. This is my family here in Singapore and truly they will be missed. In a couple of months, I will be out on my own... for the very first time in my life. I have them to thank for preparing me for such a life. If it weren't for them, NONE of those thing I've just mentioned would be made possible. NONE at all. Thank you Big Guy for blessing me with good people...

In the week to come, I will start looking for flats to move in to in January. I'm terrified, really... but sort of looking forward to it at the same time. It's going to be another first in my list. I have never lived in a country all on my own before. Stop rolling your eyes, I know that Singapore is hardly a country... but still, it's different. For once, I won't have a safety net. And that in itself is scary. Given my past track record, I haven't exactly been the luckiest in these kind of things. I'm hoping that perhaps my cards have changed... and that maybe I've finally found the place where I truly belong. Maybe the Big Guy up there just needed me to find my haven. And who knows, I probably already have.

May He bless my family as they move up a few countries away from me. May He bless them the same way that He has blessed me. And may the blessings never stop pouring from the heavens.

I can do this. Be on my own. Because I'm never really alone :)

Speaking of family, the mother is in town. Like me, I know she's running away from her problems back home. I could hardly blame her, I know how it feels. I'm still unsure as to her departure date but I know she's not going to be here for so long. You could only stay away for so long, right? But until she's here, I'm going to make sure she forgets all her problems. I at least owe her that... for giving me life and for giving me everything. I know I always complain about you and how I'm so annoyed by many things that you do. But do know that I love you. You are one special mother. And you are mine.

2005-11-11T04:05:00.000+08:00

Still paddling...

Once again, we meet. It's these solitary gaps in my day that I truly hate because it gives me time to think... and remember. Even with the stupendous amount of hours I pour in at work, it's never enough to distract me. I know that at the end of the day, the work day finishes and I've to face my demons again. Sleeping doesn't even help because I'm deprived of that. Last night, I lay in bed trying to sleep... and I just couldn't. You know how it is when you're body's just screaming for some rest but your brain wouldn't let you shut down totally? That's how I feel everyday. And each morning when I wake up, I always feel all dazed and disoriented. I drag and shuffle my feet to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face... hoping that it would wake me up. Even just a little.

I find it really strange that this ghost of mine always visits and leaves me without a note. I never know when to expect it. It kinda just crashes on my rooftop straight to my living room as opposed to knocking on my door with its suitcases and tired face. And when it's here... it really makes its presence known. Sigh! When are you leaving again? I want my happiness back. Hmm, might that be a tall order? I'm too jaded for that, I reckon. Well, I at least want my contentment back... I like have those warm fuzzy feelings back and the color on my cheeks.

It's endless... the drudgery.

Well, maybe my ghost will find someone else to bug in the next few days... Weeks? Months? Years? Hopefully sooner than later because I'm tired of entertaining it. Or perhaps it's here to make me pay for past euphorias. Hmm, nothing really comes for free, huh?

I've always had that school of thought. I've always been wary about periods in my life where I'm blithe and gratified... I somehow feel that the opposite will eventually happen. And of equal degree. It's the theory of equilibrium (my version, of course): for every emotion you have, there is an equal and opposite un-emotion. I know, I know... that's utter rubbish but it makes sense to me! It just means... if you're happy today, make the most of it because tomorrow, you'll be fucked. And otherwise is true... if you're feeling shitty today, don't worry, something good will happen to you tomorrow that will make it all worthwhile. That's the cycle of life. Good and bad and good and bad. And sadly, sometimes, it's the only thing that gives me hope.

God is fair. I know that much. But God has no concept of time either. I don't know until when He wants me to undergo so much hardships and trials. But it's all up to the Big Guy huh? All I've to do is keep the faith...

... nothing much left to do anyway. Not much choice either.

2005-11-10T03:37:00.000+08:00

Mirror, mirror

My ipod. Clay Aiken. Tofu and pumpkin. Brown rice. And me... sitting here in front of the terminal during lunch time. I'm not even hungry but I know I have to eat something since I just had an apple earlier. And no, I'm not trying to be healthy. Man, I would love to eat healthy again but for some reason, my mouth has been gravitating towards sweets, fat and more sugar these days.

I've finished most of the work that doesn't require me to correspond with other people. Damn! I should've done it slowly or something... so that I could stretch it throughout the day. I really don't feel like talking bullshit right now. I hate feeling like this. I hate any sort of unhappy feeling, you know? I don't know why it affects me so much. I wish I can just overdose on Valium and just be numb. No more sadness.

Every PC here at work has a rear view mirror on the corner. Funny, isn't it? It's generally to allow traders and dealers to see what's going on behind them without having to turn around. I was looking at myself earlier on the mirror and couldn't help but notice how funny I look today. I have this perpetual frown and no matter how hard I tried to smile, it was still there. I didn't even know that was possible. I never thought it was so hard to force emotions unto yourself. Behind me all my other colleagues are hard at work... barely speaking and barely moving except for the incessant tapping of fingers on the keyboard. They type like there's no tomorrow. I wonder what's going on in their heads. Do they really care where the Euro or the Dollar is going? Do they care what's going to happen in the next FOMC meeting? Or are they masking their sadness and troubles too... by being busy? Are they thinking of what they're having for lunch? I wish sometimes that I can tap into other people's thoughts so that I can forget my own. Perhaps they can tap into mine too... so they can understand me better. And see me through my lies.

And people... I don't like them. All they care about are themselves. Well, I could hardly blame them because I'm sure all I care about is myself too at the end of the day. Ian told me last night "never depend on anyone." It's true... it's a bad idea because you run the risk of being disappointed. And hurt. It's awful. But I was thinking about it... it's really hard to not depend on anyone. It's difficult to be strong all the time and to just close your eyes and ignore the pain when it comes. Having that one special person makes a world of a difference... and usually you find that out during those times with life decides to give you the finger. When you have nothing more to utilize as a shield, what do you do? Where do you go?

I don't think this feeling is just about last night's argument with my sister. I reckon it's a mixture of many things... and possibly past frustrations and sadness too. I've felt this way before and it's not pleasant. I don't like resorting to self-destructive measures because all it does is hurt me and those people who love me (the few of them who do, at least). Neither do I like sulking and feeling sorry for myself. But how do you make it all go away? How do you shut down all your senses so that you can no longer see, hear, feel and taste?

When will it all end?

2005-11-10T00:31:00.000+08:00

Drowning

Running away is such an attractive option many a times... far far away where no one would know where you are and who you are. And many a times, I've been so tempted to do so. If only it weren't such an irresponsible and selfish act, I would totally be out of here by now. I wish, I wish, I just so wish I can just pack up my bags and go away...

I love my family, really... I do. But there are just times when I get too suffocated from them. I was thinking last night while I was laying in bed after a big row with my sister... I think that perhaps I need more space away from them. All of my life I've always lived with or at least lived close to one of them. And though I can say they belong to the core part of my life, I don't think they know me as much as they should. Or at least as much as they think. That's just me though. I've always kept things from them. Why? I have no idea. Probably because their opinions matter so much to me that I dare not hear any of it. Or maybe because I don't want them to get disappointed with me so I only show them the side of me that I want them to see. Or maybe because I'm just like that as a person. I keep a lot of things inside. In all honestly, it's only Ian that I'm able to tell EVERYTHING to. If not everything, more than anyone else anyway. And that's a huge step for me... because I don't easily trust people.

I went to work today all puffy-eyed and cheeks from crying last night. I didn't get the chance to take my make-up off either which doesn't help. Damn it, with all the money I spend on make-up... I have nothing to disguise my puffy eyes! So of course I get questions here and there if I'm okay. Sigh! I hate that. I can't even lie because my face gives it all away. I'm NOT okay right now. I hate fighting with my family especially my siblings. I hate having unfinished business too. The last thing I want is to have issues with my sister. But oh well... I'll give her time, I guess. She was pretty pissed off last night. And I'm sure it's mostly pent up frustrations too. I'll give her as long as she needs.

For now, I'm just waiting for this feeling to pass. Thank goodness I've work to pour my energy out on. As much as I'd like using work as an escape for awful things like this... I must. I have nothing else to take it out on. Dear God, help me get through this. I want to be able to talk to my sister normally again. I don't want any complications.

2005-11-09T13:10:00.000+08:00

Love-Hate Relationship

I've always had a love-hate relationship with writing. Hmm, maybe not... but more of an on-off relationship with it. No doubt, it's always been a part of my life but it seems like I would go through phases in my life where I'd regularly write and then I'd stop for certain periods and then I'd pick it up again. It's weird. How I would love to keep on writing... and never stop. Every time I'd start a journal or a blog, I'd vow to myself to keep it up but somehow, it always dwindles in the end. I have no idea why.

Earlier today I went to this frou-frou store that only sells notebooks (a good variety of it, at least). It's one of those upper scale stationery shops. I kid you not though... whenever I go in there, there's this fluttery feeling that I get in my stomach. It's like the spirit of the notebook -- how cheesy can I get??? I always have this affinity with notebooks. There's something so personal about them, you know? Even though it's going to be used for school or for work, it always has some sort of personality -- the unique handwriting, the content, the doodles, the choice of words, everything!

I have about a dozen blank notebooks in my possession right now. It's something that I do... buy notebooks simply because I find them beautiful. The minute that I see a notebook that is just me, I buy it even though at the back of my head a voice screams "What are you thinking? Another one?!?" Well, excuse meeeeeeh... some girls have shoes, I have notebooks! Capisce?

I just bought my yearly calendar earlier too. I've no idea why I did that because my calendar's on my desktop but how can I not right? And I also bought a notebook that I intended to be a diary... and again, I've no idea why I did that because I just started this blog, right? I just love having them. That feeling of your hand holding a pen touching the smooth and silky texture of paper. It's awesome! And then just letting your feelings out... with no one to interrupt you, no one to talk back to you, no one to criticize you, nothing at all. It's like sharing your deepest darkest secrets with someone and knowing at the same time that it'll be kept safe forever. I could never figure out why I would ever stop writing... or why I would ever replace it with anything else...

I can't say that I'm a gifted writer. I don't think I have the skills or the discipline to be a proper one but I like it enough to be able to say that "I write during my free time." That I am a writer by heart :)

I pray that I can continue this blog... that it's not just another project of mine. I just want it to be different this time. This time, I'm not going to say that I vow to keep this up. I will just do it. It's like being reunited with an old love.

2005-11-07T11:47:00.000+08:00

Happy Birthday To Me!

Up until 5pm today, I was having the perfect 24th birthday. Well, not quite... if only it was 24 minus 3, then it would have been perfect...

Champagne brunch at the Mezz with my sister was awesome. It gave new meaning to "eat, drink and be merry." I swear, with all the food we ate and with all the alcohol we consumed, we're both probably racking up points in hell for gluttony. But really, the food was the best there is... lobster, steak, sushi, oysters, chocolate fondue, NAME IT! It's totally there! And I didn't see my champagne flute empty at all. Every time I drank a bit, the server would come fill it up. My reservations were for 12 noon... and we stayed there until about 3:30pm. No joke, they actually came over to give us the bill. See, in Asia, this is UNHEARD of! But because we were both buzzing like hell... we didn't care. I don't even remember what the figures were. I just signed away. I'm dreading seeing my statement next month :P But I think that was absolutely worth it. The food and the champagne was worth about $200... but seeing my sister drunk and happy for the first time in a year... PRICELESS! Hahaha!

Until 5pm came. We went to the mall to do more make-up shopping... and that's when we both started feeling sick. Ohmygawd, I have not been drunk since I left university. And the feeling was just awful. As I write this, I can feel the world spinning and spinning... but I want to write while the memory's still in my head. I think I must've drunk about ten gallons of water already but it's evidently not enough to counter the ten flutes of champagne that we had EACH! Freakin' hell... I wonder if I've enough body parts to put the liquid in.

Vitamin B12 is the bomb!

But it's not a bad birthday; on the contrary, it was very good... I actually enjoyed even though there wasn't a big party or whatnot in my honor. I'm never one for those. I never really like making such a huge deal of my birthday. It's just another day. But today, I sincerely enjoyed the company of my sister especially since we haven't really spent that much time together ever since she got pregnant and gave birth. She's still the same person... and I was quite sad to realize that we won't be living together anymore in a few months. When we were make-up shopping, casually she went "It's too bad we won't be living together anymore or else we could've shared all these new make-up that we have." Even though it's not supposed to mean anything, it really struck a chord, you know? I know Hong Kong isn't very far away... and I know she'll be more than demanding for me to come up on weekends to visit but it's going to be different. Then again, I'm thankful to God that we were given one and a half years to live together again... that I was given the chance to share one of the more important years in her life as a wife and a mother. I will never forget it...

I was also quite happy that all those people that I consider as friends made a presence in my life today. I may seemingly have a lot of friends but you can totally count in one hand the REAL friends I have. And all of them remembered me on my special day. I love you all.

Well... right now, there's nothing I'd want more but to throw up. In hindsight, there's something really sad about getting truly smashed in the middle of a Sunday afternoon and throwing up on a Sunday evening after watching a teeny bopper movie called "Drive Me Crazy." Let's keep that a secret, shall we?

2005-11-04T10:12:00.000+08:00

When You Can't See The Things In Front Of You

Does that count as taking something for granted? Ironic, isn't it? Ironic that sometimes, we neglect to really look at what's in front of us... because it's always there.

I got back home a bit earlier than my usual today and Gerard was still awake. Ate was trying her best to keep him awake because I swear, this kid will sleep his whole life away if only he can. As I write this, I can still hear Ate making a fool out of herself in the bedroom trying to get Gerard to stay awake (sounds of gurgle gurgle spit from a fully grown adult isn't exactly the most attractive of all... wouldn't you agree?). I realized as I walked in what a beautiful baby he is. So full of life! And I realized as well that though I live with him, I don't really see him. Whenever I get back from my normal work day, he's already sleeping. Before I leave for work, he's also sleeping. I never see him awake! He is truly a gift from heaven...

At the same token, it makes me think about my life. I swear, I honestly don't know where the last five years have been. How did it get to be year 2005 without me knowing it? And get this, there are barely two months left in the year! Where was I? Why did time fly by so fast?

Could it be that I was so caught up with where I want to be in the future? Could it be that I was too involved in setting up the path that I want to walk on to get to my destination? Could it be that I think ahead way too much? That I let all these so-called planning spoil my present? And guess what? I still have absolutely no clue what my future is. You'd think by now I should know or at least be on the way there. Nope, not at all. Not even close. I still feel lost... as lost as I had been in 1999. Actually, I was probably more sure of myself back in 1999 than now, ten months into 2005. It feels as if I'm regressing or something. I don't know what's going on anymore.

I dont know how often I'd be able to visit Ate and Gerard in Hong Kong. Hopefully it'll be frequent because I don't want to use Gerard as my benchmark in life. I want to see him growing up. I don't want to visit him in Hong Kong and discover "Jeezus, you can talk now? And three different languages???" That would be utterly pathetic. I really want to slow down as well... in terms of my life. Lately all I do is work, go home, sleep, wake up, work, repeat infinitely. I'm lucky that I still get to have my token social calls... like dinner, coffee, movie or shopping. I have it to keep myself sane because it seems like I've been spending about 2/3's of my life in front of my computer at work... pretending to be productive.

Is life really this tough? Do you really have to spend 2/3's of your life trying to earn what you're going to spend for the other 1/3?

2006 is right around the corner. Just like every year, I aspire to make big changes in my life. The thing is, I still have no bloody idea how I'm going to make it work. I've started writing again. That's a good start. I want to keep it up. The pen and the paper (using it figuratively, of course, as I no longer use those when writing) has always been there for me to provide solace and comfort.

Welcome home, darling... welcome home...