Merry Christmas!

I celebrate with all of you the blessings of this season. There is hope, there is joy ,and there is love in the world because Jesus our Savior is born. I put my trust in His Holy name. All the tragedies of 2009 are nothing compared to His love, and He can heal all things and all peoples.

May we experience this hope, this joy, and this love, today and everyday. Merry Christmas to one and all!

Not in Vain

I couldn't have said it better.

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain:
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

-- Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Unplanned Three-Day Weekend

It was announced only last Friday that Monday, September 7, would be a holiday in honor of the departed head of the Iglesia ni Cristo (INC). As such, I had made no plans to drive out of town, even though I had been wanting to go to either Subic or Tagaytay for a brief break from the city life.

Due to a prolonged wait for my initial salary (I work for the government; this is normal), I had been avoiding unnecessary expenses so even short-term plans were out of the question. Add to that my proximity to the central temple of the INC, where all the traffic was, and I was trapped for three days within my corner of the world.

Coming from an exhausting week, for just driving to and from work was a major event for me, and I had failed to walk around UP campus due to heavy rains, I had a slow Saturday. I woke up at 7 a.m. but was back in bed immediately after, and was awakened at 2 p.m. by my grumbling stomach. I had wanted to indulge in one of my favorite chores - doing the laundry - but typhoon Labuyo had prevented me from doing so. So I looked around my room for things to clean. I started with my shoes, then moved to my shoe rack, which was made of canvas and thus needed hand-washing; then took out all my makeup sponges and brushes. Unsatisfied, I went to my mother's dresser and cleaned all her makeup brushes as well. Whenever I use soap and water to clean something, I feel cleaner inside. This may be an obsessive-compulsive disorder developing. Who knows.

I stared at the work I brought home and said to myself that I needed a break from all that. So out came the DVDs I borrowed from a friend. I went on a movie marathon in my room. This was followed by my FRIENDS boxed set, which really had me laughing until late into the night. All by myself. My real-life friends were texting about several things - a choir practice, a spa visit, a walk (in the rain?), but anything that was going to be held to the right of Commonwealth Ave., I said No to. No way was I driving through the sea of cars and people.

Sunday was my duty day as Lector, so I did that, followed by other duties in the parish. I had lunch with my parents and got invited to a choir member's birthday celebration, to the left of Commonwealth. I slept again all afternoon and then went to the party. I sang videoke and had a score of 2.0. Out of a possible 100. That was a broken machine, everyone could tell. My highest score was 77. Highest score before I left was 94. Suffice to say that I went home frustrated.

Monday, I worked slowly, as my mind was still at rest. I finally did some laundry, although the sun still had not come out. I watched more Friends episodes. I repaired some clothes whose buttons were either missing or loosened. I tried to read a book but both books in my current reading list were heavyweights, and I had to put them down for they were causing me to get depressed too much.

I tried a little writing but my uncooperative mind refused to budge. Then I attended another birthday party, had some wine and coffee, and stimulating conversation. Then it was time to go home. And three days had passed.

Tomorrow is the start of another work week. I hope to be productive, and to have less rough roads than last week.

Identity Crisis aka Early Mid-Life

I am home nursing a cold and am utterly bored.  Because of this A(H1N1) flu scare, people don't take anything at face value.  Just so I don't spread my virus, I decided to stay home as a precautionary measure.  I don't know how to relax, however.

Being home alone led me to pause and to think.  Nothing earth-shaking or major.  It's just that it's becoming increasingly evident to me that I have a wrong self-image.

You see, I took this Facebook quiz (how reliable is that?!  Stay with me for a bit here), and the result is that I'm not spoiled at all.  My friends expressed their objections.  To them, I am a spoiled brat.  But I answered the quiz truthfully.  Either I am good at projecting an illusion, or I am in denial.  Needless to say, the result got me thinking:  why do my friends disagree with me?  I don't care what the world says, but my friends are supposed to know me.  

Maybe I am more spoiled and pampered than I believe.

Another case in point.  A very close friend of about six years told me today that I have a very serious personality.  I said he must have been misled, because I have always been witty, and I don't need alcohol to speak with poetry.  Could he just have been teasing me, or did I hide my insane crazy creative side so well from him?  Others would disagree.  I have always been silly.  I have a Category of Silly Posts on this blog.  Ask my classmates.  I'm not a serious person.

Or am I?  

I saw parts of a forgettable film (Michael) on HBO, and the smoking archangel told his human companions, "Relax.  It's the only way to find love."

Am I too relaxed - spoiled, or too serious - boring?

Does it matter what they think, or do I need to be myself more?

Hopefully the changes I will go through next month will help me relax more and be myself more.  

This self-centered blog is brought to you by my cough syrup.  Now back to get some sleep.

A Conscious Decision

The older we get, the harder it is to hold on to happiness.

I started the new year on a happy note, and my cup was overflowing with joy and gratitude. I could not contain it so I spilled some everyday to the people around me. I was glowing, shimmering, and soaring.

Gradually, things crept up that threatened to rob me of my joy. Traffic every morning on the drive to work. Fellow drivers who display utter ignorance of traffic rules. Clients who are unreasonable, demanding, and irate. People who are mean and show less love than they should.

I made a decision to choose to be happy this year, and I found this first week a bit of a challenge. I did not want to be stressed, insecure, and frustrated all the time anymore.

The world has not changed, but I have, right? So I will fiercely hold on to that one happy thought that could make me fly, and refuse to be affected by negative thoughts, feelings, and persons.

Fierce happiness. What an oxymoron.

On Being Alone

Yes!  I'm finally doing it.  I'm writing about this.  I'm an ordinary, stereotypical single woman in her 30's, not caring what people would think or say about me after reading this and writing some thoughts which I have been entertaining about this topic.

I guess you could say my eyes are slowly being re-opened and I'm finding I have to claim my life or I would just waste it, noble intentions notwithstanding.  

There are so many horror stories I refused to write about before, of insults, jokes, and demands made of me just because I was the Last Single Person on Earth.  The witty retorts that popped in my head every single time I was teased or pitied for being unmarried, I have managed to put under lock and key.  But I did reserve the nastiest unsaid replies for the harshest comments I had received.  

People could be so cruel.  So I'm the last of five children to be married, although I'm not the youngest.  So I still live with my parents.  So most of my friends are married.  So I am the perennial godmother of their children.  So I am always asked to serve and work and give and wait, because I'm unattached and available (to serve and work and give and wait).

Oh, the insinuations that I'm a horrible, unlovable person, are unbelievable.  As a brother, who is single for the Lord, said, for single people the question at the back of everyone's mind is, "What's wrong with you?"  

Why were you not chosen?

Why were you left behind?

Who will take care of you when you grow old (as if this is the purpose of marriage)?

And so I ask why I'm being accused, are all married people happy?  It is not the state of life per se that makes us happy, but the state of our hearts as we live out our vocation.  Please give single people a break.  God loves us as much as you married ones.   

And these are my favorites.  I call them the Insulting Compliments.

"You're too intimidating.  You hurt the Filipino male's pride by your intelligence, your success, and your passion."

And I'm supposed to say thank you for pointing these things out.  Yes!  How happy I am for being called these names.  And how hard I've tried to tone down my dreams, lessen my service, hide my talents, and quiet my passions.  Now I know better.  God created me this way.  I should celebrate who I am and not let other people dictate how I should live my life.  I guess I haven't found my match yet.  I guess I could die single.  There are worse things in this world.  What matters is how I lived my life as a single person!  I want to be true to who I am.  

"You're too choosy.  You should settle for someone who is not ideal and not perfect.  After all, you are not ideal.  Neither are you perfect."

And so is my mascara, and that's why I never wear mascara, since I cannot afford the truly waterproof, volumizing, non-smearing brand.  I mean, since I have combination skin, mascaras that pretend to be waterproof just smear away with ugly black streaks that make me look like a raccoon on a hot summer day.  Without the perfect mascara in my makeup bag, I'd rather not wear any.  The cheap brands don't work.  Someday maybe I could afford to buy the mascara that was made for my eyes and skin type.  But for now, my life is complete even without it.

I guess people like to poke at others' weaknesses, in an attempt to help them out of their misery.  I welcome the prayers from people who say they want to see me happily married.  I welcome the friendship of those who love me for who I am now and are not nagging me to wear revealing clothes to attract men.  

Some of my happiest moments are driving alone on an empty road listening to my favorite music.  Or dining alone in a fancy restaurant where I could eat in peace.  Or reading a book in the middle of a stormy night.  Or serving macaroni soup to hundreds of youth.  Or going to the market with my parents.  Or having coffee with friends.  Or writing in this blog.

Life is beautiful, and not all are called to the same purpose.  Let me discover mine, and enjoy the journey.  I just want to put it in writing, if I stay with my last name till the end of my days, I would not have lived in vain.  I'm more concerned whether I'm going to heaven after this earth.  If I'm going to meet Jesus face to face.  If I will join the saints in worship eternally.  For in heaven, we shall all be single.  And we won't be asked why.  The angels will rejoice with us.  And Love will be all around us.

And if I am single, it doesn't mean I'm alone.  For God is with me.  I'd rather have bad, stormy, painful, challenging days with God, than good times with someone else who doesn't know Him.

There were moments when I was weak and I almost gave in.  I almost settled.  I almost made the biggest mistake of my life.  I am glad that I was shaken out of that temporary insanity.

It is my hope that there will be more kindness in this world, and that people will think twice before commenting on other people's civil status. Sometimes I get the joke and laugh at my own expense.  

Other times, I just prefer to Be alone.  For that is what I am now.

Growing Up

One of the many signs that I'm beginning to feel my age is that I've become better at refusing to be a People Pleaser.  

You see, once upon a time, I cared too much what people said about me, and I wanted to be Campus Girl or Miss Congeniality.  I thought being a good girl mant I had to keep quiet even if people who posed as my friends put me down, and obedience meant not questioning the weird and unflattering comments of people I thought I was duty-bound to be obedient to.

I could take verbal abuse and justify it, just like a battered wife who kept coming back to her violent husband.  And it took the objectivity of caring leaders and directors to gently point out to me that I was putting up with some things that were not right.  Being a Christian, I learned, did not involve being a Yes Person, a Pushover, or a Pleaser.  It meant saying yes to Jesus, standing up for what's right, and not being afraid to let people down if their ways or being involved with them led me to sin.

Not every negative comment is to be avoided, however.  In fact, I have grown through the loving correction and timely reminders of friends, for I saw the concern behind their seemingly harsh words.  Those people who truly cared for me were not afraid to say the painful truth.  I still run to them with my darkest secrets, unafraid to get scolded or reprimanded, and eager to hear their suggestions for dealing with my problems.

On the other hand, there were some people I had encountered in the past who seemed to take pleasure in reminding others, me in particular, of weaknesses, failures, and faults.  They said it with unbelievable delight, and the usual, and expected, effect was not to lift me up, but to put lime juice on my wounds.  

Well last birthday, I made a grownup decision that enough was enough.  I decided to be more careful how I was treated so that I wouldn't explode later on like a volcano after I've had too much verbal aggression.  I would give timely corrections when other people step all over me, and would always try to remember the truth that God loves me, warts and all.

Love is complicated, for its expressions in some do not always match the needs of their beloved.  I do not question the faith of those who inadvertently hurt other people, but there is also nothing wrong in sticking to the people who share my values, whom I know are journeying, struggling, and rejoicing with me every step of the way.

It is time to say goodbye to dead stars that no longer exist, but still appear to shine due to their distance from the earth.

It is time to define love as God who is love intended it to be.

It is time to stand up, out of love for my soul, and to walk on with less baggage and distraction.

Yes, this explains my silence.

August Rush

It is August, after all. I watched the Oscar-nominated film "August Rush" last weekend. Twice. They say there are only two reactions to the film, either you will love it, or you will get bored with it. I belonged to the first category.

Spoiler warning here, as I write a bit of reaction to the movie. The theme is the power of music, and how it brings together people who listen to it. August Rush is the screen name of a young boy from the orphanage who grew up listening to the beat of his own music, literally. He could stand in the middle of the road and hear the humming of electric cables. He could conduct an orchestra out of wind chimes. He was able to write music at a very young age.

Magical and mystical, the film unwraps like a play, with the audience in willing suspension of disbelief. I suspended mine because I wanted to see the world as Evan, or August, did. He just followed his heart and out came the music that was given to him. In writing down the music, he was just giving it back, he said, to the ones who gave it to him.

The movie is set in New York City and it is obvious that its creators had such love for their city, for the setting itself was a character in the movie. It provided the perfect background, although this was a different NYC probably than the one featured in "Sleepless in Seattle", "An Affair to Remember", or any of those Armageddon-type movies. This NYC played a rhapsody so beautiful and powerful that it reunited Evan with his loved ones.

Some lines in the film were memorable. The cellist said she wanted to play again, after eleven years, because she felt her son could hear her somehow.

The poet-rockstar returned to the concert stage to sing of the love he met one moonlit night, and to call her back to him again.

And the boy touched many lives - from street performers to choir members, from policemen to pastors. His gift stunned Julliard professors. His music inspired thousands.

I sat on a bed watching it on my Macbook and cried for about half the movie. I have not cried like that over a film in a long time. Perhaps it is the boy's faith. Perhaps it is his determination to fulfill his purpose in life. Perhaps it is the beauty of seeing a human soul becoming what he was meant to be. Perhaps it is the love that I have stopped believing in.

This August, rush to your favorite DVD suki and buy a copy of this touching movie. Prepare to face your own dreams, and prepare to be filled with hope that they will come true, if you will keep believing, and if you keep doing what you are called to do.

34 Random Facts About Me

While being treated to dinner by my grade school barkada, they asked me to name 34 milestones in life, a tradition started by KBJ when he turned 40 last week.  I said I needed time to think of what to say, as I had had my share of highs and lows in life.  So I'm posting my answer to one of their 34 questions.

This is stream-of-consciousness, unedited, raw facts about me, probably of interest only to those who asked me to write this, but go ahead and read if you have nothing better to do.

1.  I've never learned to ride a bike.

2.  I was the batch Model Girl during my freshman year at Manila Science High School.

3.  I wanted to be a laundrywoman, a newscaster, a pianist, a dancer, a writer, and a lawyer while I was growing up.  It's not too late to be all of them.

4.  I had perfect pitch in college - I could give the middle C without a pitch pipe.  I haven't tried locating the note in my head in a long while.

5.  I majored in Business Economics in college.  I was encouraged by my piano teacher to minor in Piano but I was too lazy to practice.  I have regretted this decision for a long time.

6.  I was baptized in the Spirit and gave my life to the Lord in October of 1993.  I still remember the moment I was prayed over and my happiest moment to date was then, when the light of God's love enveloped me.  I received the gift of tongues immediately.

7.  I failed the bar the first time I took it.

8.  I passed the bar a year after my batchmates did.

9.  I won in a typing contest in a class in BA.

10.  I lost the Presidency three times in life - Grade School, High School, and Law School.  I didn't lose in Undergrad because I ran and won as Vice President of the School of Economics Student Council.

11.  I am an ambidextrous texter and I think I could win a texting contest if I ever join one.

12.  I took up drama class at CCP during my teen years to get over a broken heart.  I broke it again that summer.

13.  My father named me after a beauty queen from COLOMBIA who competed in the Miss Universe pageant in Manila in 1974 (Thanks to Juan's Proud Poppa for pointing out my error.  Miss Spain won that year. )

14.  My favorite saints are St Francis, St Joseph, St Clare, St Therese, and St Teresa.

15.  There had never been a point in my life when I was not in the middle of a book.

16.  I could play the piano without reading notes at the age of three just by listening to my mother's piano students.

17.  I am the most unathletic person I have ever met.

18.  All five of us kids went to the University of the Philippines.

19.  I have never kept a pet for more than a month in my life.  I do not like pets.

20.  I cannot cut straight, whether using scissors or a cutter.  

21.  My lowest grades in school were in P.E. and Art.

22.  My highest grades were in music and English.

23.  I got my highest grades, joined the most number of orgs, won a leadership award with cash prize, wrote for the schoolpaper, finished my thesis using Econometrics, after I broke up with my first boyfriend.  If I had done that earlier, I would probably have done better in school. Haha.

24.  I was the one who introduced texting and blogging to several of my friends.

25.  I thought I was going to be a corporate lawyer for the rest of my life.

26.  I thought I was going to be a missionary for the rest of my life.

27.  I danced "Awit ng Kabataan" at the Araneta Coliseum with Lingkod QT's and shouted, "I'll be back, Araneta!"  I haven't been back on that stage since then.

28.  I had a brief stint as a travel writer and toured Bohol, Manila, Shanghai, and Beijing as fees.

29.  I worked in the government for 3.5 years.

30.  I served in Lingkod for seven years.

31.  I want to visit Europe and Israel before I die.

32.  I am happier to be on retreat than to be in a rock concert.

33.  My trip to Disneyland and California Adventure was the highlight of my first US visit. It was not the Grand Canyon.

34.  I am often mistaken as a twentysomething.  Hurrah!

Thank you for all your birthday greetings.  I thank God for all the blessings He has given me, and pray that the rest of the journey will be spent with Him and with people I can share love with.  

Cheers!

Guilt No Longer Becomes Her

I think I'm reaching a point when I can say without guilt or frustration that there are things that I could neither be nor do in life, even if they come naturally for other people.

1. I could never wear just one perfume day in and day out.
2. I get bored wearing the same accessories successively.
3. I could never arrive in the office at the exact same time for many consecutive days.
4. I do not play badminton. No one can make me; even if People in Authority.
5. I hate wasting time.
6. I do not like being rushed, especially in the morning.
7. I am not rich.
8. I try to be different and to be good at the same time, which sometimes confuses people, including myself.
9. I never run out of things to be insecure about. All I can manage to do is to tone them down.

And the Number Ten Thing I've Come to Accept About Myself is...

10. Not all my dreams came true. Life must go on.

Acceptance. I just might be on the Fifth Stage of Grief. There was definitely a lot of Denial, Anger, Barganing, and Depression, which some of you may have witnessed.

I am not sure exactly what I was grieving for, but I went through all stages. Sometimes you just wake up to see beauty, and grace, and hope in your life. They were there all along, but you were just too busy to notice.

A Stepford Wife I'm Not

Ironing or pressing clothes is not my favorite chore.  I have been known to walk the streets of Metro Manila wearing wrinkled clothing. Today, however, was a little bit different.  

Our neighborhood was awakened to the sound of xylophones and snare drums.  I was up and dressed early to attend the 8 a.m. mass with my parents.  It was, after all, the Second Fiesta Celebration of the Parish of St. Benedict.  The organizers wanted a town fiesta feel, and Fr. Steve gave in.  He did preach about one important teaching of St. Benedict - and that is to put order in our lives by knowing our priorities and balancing our schedules.  

I stayed after the mass to watch the band perform modern songs and mingled with my neighbors.  There were banderitas everywhere, food was sold on little stalls, and the candidates for Ms. St. Benedict had a motorcade.  I went to the covered courts as I was asked to help in the fun games.  Then, I went and did my usual Sunday morning service after the 10 a.m. Charismatic mass.  

I did not feel like the typical barrio lass, until I started preparing for the Coronation Night of Ms. St. Benedict, which I was asked to emcee together with Tito Joe.  I decided that I would do everything by myself, without visiting the parlor.  I watched videos on YouTube on how to achieve the hairstyle I wanted, and then I searched our whole house for bobby pins.  

With my hair in bobby pins and while listening to Mama's Sunday music (sleepy and straight out of a different decade), I pressed the dress I was going to wear.  As I familiarized myself with the flat iron and willed the skirt to smoothen itself, I realized that I was a sight to behold, and I was not my usual self.  For I hated ironing, and my hair was usually left straight.  I felt like a barrio lass preparing for the town fiesta to be held at the basketball court.

But I was going to our fiesta, and it was going to be held at the basketball court.  

I fixed my hair, gave myself a foot spa with pedicure, and then used my special makeup.  The result was not professionally done, but I was happy enough that I did not spend for anything.  I even borrowed the dress from my mom, which was couture, and something she had worn only once.  

The Coronation Night was entertaining, with performances from different sub-parishes ranging from a violin and keyboard number to a Rigodon de Honor.  I wonder what St. Benedict would say to our celebration tonight.  It was simple enough for me,  with a taste of festivities wrapped in community spirit.  The civic and religious organizations in our community worked hand in hand for the fiesta to be a success.  The many hours I spent preparing for my 'look' were nothing compared to the hard work of the organizers of this year's fiesta.

Then I went home to wash away the hair spray and return to my normal self, a city girl with work backlog and an early day tomorrow to avoid rush hour traffic.  I should remember what St. Benedict taught his monks, to balance prayer, rest, and work, as I start yet another grueling week.

Should I be inspired to do so, I might curl my hair again.  But as to ironing clothes?  I would prefer to shop for wrinkle-free outfits, hire someone to do it, or wear my straight-out-of-the-clotheslines attire again.  There's a time for everything, but I am open to changing for the better.

Crawling Out From Under My Rock

Everyone I used to hang out with had other plans this weekend, and I found myself with some time on my hands, to do with as I pleased.

It was an unfamiliar feeling.  At first, I was restless and bored witless.  I did take home some work but felt there should be more to life than work, so I set that aside for later.  Much later.

I made a list of things to do this weekend and went through the list one by one, as my book "When There's Not Enough of Me to Go Around" suggested.  It's a book written by perfectionists for perfectionists, and when a friend of mine learned that I bought such a book to help me cope with my perfectionism, she said, "How perfectionist is that?"

I thought it was the perfect time to sort through my clutter in the store room to make way for my plans of moving into my own place this quarter.  Before I realized it, I was knee-deep in papers, letters, and souvenirs, further proof of what a packrat I was.  My mom was only too happy to see me throw away old reviewers and case digests.  I was unwilling to let go of them for years until I realized that they might no longer be good law, and remembered that I worked for a company that specialized in digital archiving.  I should walk my talk, anyway if I needed any case, law, issuance, or commentary, they were available in our office database.  So out went a balikbayan box-full of law school notes and other materials.  

I found it weird that pests got to some of my most precious memories - my only article that came out in Kerygma and my only published paper in the Philippine Law Journal - but stayed away from the most trivial of documents such as scratch papers and doodle pads.  I saved what I could of the magazines and journals, and vowed to buy those huge plastic containers with wheels and handles that were anti-flood,- termite, -cockroach, and -mice.

I was probably the last of my law school batch to let go of my photocopied materials, and I did not even have the heart to let everything go.  How could I throw away the witty and fascinating reviewers prepared by A'-99, my block, which reached law students all the way to University Belt even years after we had left law school?  All the memories from those years came back, of recitations and digests that shaped me into the lawyer that I am now.  I remembered the people who helped me prepare for the bar  through tips, reviewers, forms, and books.  I remembered and I smiled.  I could look back at those years and not feel incomplete anymore.  I had moved on from the failure of the 1999 bar to the drama of the 2000 bar.  I could face my blockmates again, and I did, a month ago, in Makati, and I did not feel that their love for me had changed.

It was I who had changed.  I was no longer just Ella, the Obiter Master (my self-proclaimed title everytime I prepared  a case digest with a Calvin and Hobbes footer, or did the lay-out of a finals reviewer with a Star Wars theme).  I was Ella, the renewed Christian, more radical, passionate, and idealistic than I ever was. 

I slowly moved to the files from my law firm days at Tan and Venturanza, and decided to keep them all.  I went through my folders from the Sandiganbayan - of notes and summaries I had made on different crimes - and decided not to throw away all the efforts I exerted in preparing for those cases.  I saw some files from my Privatization and Management Office days, all six months' worth, and put them back into the cabinet.  

I even saw grade school memories, college notes, files from my different organizations and councils, and kept some of them, for it always made me smile when I looked back at how life had been - how full, how challenging, and how rewarding.

It takes me a while before I let go of people and things.  That's who I am.  And after several years of Lingkod, just Lingkod, both comfort and joy, sorrow and pain, I finally looked at the rest of the world and tried to re-integrate myself.  For I am not just a sum of different parts - of the past, present and future, - no, I am a complete person wherever I am.

There is one identity I'm sticking to, hopefully until forever, and that is, Child of God.

Everything else is just an effect thereof.