Terrible Heat

I promised myself I will minimize complaints, especially about things I cannot control. Like the weather. But the extreme heat of summer 2010 is getting to me.

I get constant migraines. I don't like moving from air-conditioned to non-air-conditioned rooms as it makes me dizzy. I am constantly thirsty, especially upon waking up in the morning. Perhaps I'm also coming down with the flu so I have been generally feeling a bit under the weather this week. I try to drink several liters of water a day just to make it through.

I am not ignoring the sun's benefits, especially since I love to do the laundry and clothes line-dry quickly in summer. I just hope that we get some rain soon, and not in Ondoy proportions, please. There is such a thing as too much sunshine.

So this is not a complaint. Just a statement. I'll do the (pro) rain dance if needed.

Blind-Sided

There are times when you are in the mood for a fight. As long as it's a good fight. Like a car accident, for example, with an irresponsible bus driver and a drunk bus operator as the objects of your wrath. You sit in the rain, wait for your adversaries, argue with all your might, and get what you want. You then go home exhausted but fulfilled, because your concept of justice had prevailed. You fought for your rights, and you won.

Then there are times when you are preoccupied with thoughts of saving the world, healing the sick, feeding the hungry, and doing your job when BAM! Your car gets hit and the other driver starts blaming you and takes advantage of your confusion. You are led to believe that it was just a scratch, that no harm was done, and that since both of you were at fault - something you could have easily disproved had you been so inclined - you would be better off leaving the scene of collision to pay for your own injuries.

You then go home to find out that there were a couple of dents, not just an ugly scrape. Your father starts asking questions but you are not prepared to say that you had met another road accident just as you still suffered from the trauma of the previous one. You sit in silence and ignore the dents and the scratches and seethe inside.

Life happens. You can take the car to the shop quarterly and try to be the best defensive driver but there will be times when you will be a victim of other people's stupidity.

You can plan your day, your week, your month, and your year down to the details of your wardrobe and accessories, but you will never be prepared for all eventualities. There is no insurance that covers everything.

You can be the best friend any person could have, treat people with respect, conduct yourself with honesty and integrity, yet BAM! Life can and will still surprise you. You can fight each battle and lose all your blood, or you can just walk away with your dents, scratches, and tears, and pay for the consequences of others' actions. And you will keep your head held high. Others who cheat and hurt, deliberately or carelessly, will get what they deserve in time.

C'est la vie.

Shaken, But Not Stirred

Since I can't sleep anyway, I might as well write.

I got hit by a bus. The car I was driving, I mean. I'm fine, and the car will be fine after repair, but it was another harrowing experience.

Is it just me, or have bus drivers, especially those plying the Fairview-Manila route, worsened in their blatant ignorance of all traffic rules and regulations? I must have been thinking of them too much and getting affected by their snake-like driving from Commonwealth to Taft Ave. that one night, I just found my car being slowly hit by a bus.

It was a rainy night, and rush hour traffic was moving slowly. I knew I was sticking to my lane, however narrow it was due to the inexistent lane division on that part of Quezon Ave., when all of a sudden I felt the collision, and to my utter horror, the bus driver did not stop. It only meant that he did not notice that he was already about to run over an entire car. He was oblivious to my car's blaring horn. He only stopped the bus when he heard a loud, scraping sound, and I don't know, maybe his passengers who had better eyesight and awareness of their surroundings noticed what he was doing.

I was all alone, and no matter my 10 years of practice, I still could not compose a single lawyer-like sentence to defend my rights. The driver, his conductor, and ten million other uzi (Pinoy term for people who like to ogle during the oddest and most inappropriate times, like accidents) proceeded to my side of the car. Driver insisted that it was my fault, because, if he had been the one at fault, I would have suffered greater injury. Then he asked me to move my car because his passengers were being inconvenienced. I felt my blood rising.

I should have thanked him for doing a Chavit! (Chavit Singson is the notorious "state witness" who told on his ex-friend Erap, thus starting his impeachment case, and who recently told the media that his lover and her new bf were lucky that he only hurt them and did not have them killed, after he caught them in the act of making love). Oh, thank you bus driver, that I only suffered that injury!

I told him instead that it the vehicles should not be moved until the police officer had had the chance to inspect the scene and make a sketch of the collision. Well, maybe in not that clear a manner, for I was in distress and close to tears. I willed myself not to cry in anger and frustration. I had to think.

It was hard to think. I could not focus. It was dark, it was raining, and I had been in that situation before, but for some reason - tiredness, maybe, or panic - I could not think straight. After a couple of minutes of quick prayer, I told myself that I had to pull myself together. I called up my family and friends to ask for help. I was so helpless and alone and I needed a lawyer, a policeman, a family member, and a friend.

I got what I wanted. They all came at the same time. The traffic police came first, and he was very efficient. I trusted him on instinct, and he was nice to me. I don't think it had anything to do with where I worked. He must have seen that it was the bus driver's fault and I was the victim, for he walked me through the entire ordeal and made me feel safe, that everything was going to be alright.

My brother was in a meeting, but he sent my sister-in-law, who immediately took photos and assured me with her presence. I wanted to cry when I saw her, but stopped myself again. She accompanied me to the police station, and only left when my friend, the lawyer, arrived.

My lawyer was no stranger to car accidents, having herself been in one last week, where I played the role of lawyer. She was the calm one while I tried to control my anger, and came up with a wise strategy that solved my problem for the night. She advised that we aim for a cash settlement outright. The policemen were very, very helpful. They did their job well without a single centavo from any of the parties. There is hope for this country. Goodness still exists underneath the rough exterior of people.

After a long, restless wait, the bus company operator arrived and the dreaded negotiation began. I tried to recall everything I had learned about those situations, but no concept or idea came to mind. That was what TSP was there for. She assisted me when I began arguing with the obviously drunk operator. The policemen let us come up with an agreement before they came in. They too were surprised that the owner/operator paid in cold cash, although his hands were shaking while he was counting the money.

This experience woke me up to many things, but one thing I know, is that when trials hit one after another, instead of complaining, I should be grateful, that God provides the means to triumph over them one by one. Worst things could have happened, my parents said when I related the story. I could have been hurt. My nephew asked his mom to tell me that he was glad that I was not hurt and that he loved me. I had wonderful friends who were praying for me and who offered help even though they could not be physically present.

Ironically, it's the bus operator's statement that summarized the experience. "Nobody is perfect on the road," he said. That's right. I realized that if accidents happen, as they sometimes do, there are much more things to be grateful for. As I told a friend when he asked me how I was after the accident, "I'm shaken, but not stirred." It was a bad thing to happen, but good things came out of it.

I close with the psalm for today that I read this morning before going to work:

I will give thanks to the LORD with all my heart in the company and assembly of the just. Great are the works of the LORD, exquisite in all their delights. (Ps. 111, 1-2)

For what can I say? He answered all my prayers tonight. I will sleep with that comforting thought. I will bring the car to the talyer this weekend. No driving for me for a few days.

Will also pray if it's time to move.

My Ideas That Have Not (Yet) Seen Print

Since my last post, I had wanted to write about:

1. The Cory magic, and how I observed the week of mourning for her. I have some shots from the queue outside Manila Cathedral. Never found the time to write that piece.
2. The beauty of the City of Manila and how I want to clean it up. (I even have a blog title: My Giant Feather-Duster).
3. The presidentiables and the state of Philippine politics.
4. The worsening traffic problem and the undisciplined drivers of Metro Manila.
5. The things we learned in school that have yet to be applied in real life.
6. The moves to change the name of my alma mater, Manila Science High School, to Cory Aquino Science High School (CASHS?). We love Cory, but we love our name too. I'm looking for a way to talk to Mayor Lim. If you have suggestions and connections, do let me know. Thanks.

My thoughts are too scattered at the moment. I wrote this list down so I won't forget my ideas. If I don't get to write them, ask me and I'll share my thoughts with you when we see each other. Over coffee. Preferably at some beautiful place like Cafe by the Ruins in Baguio, or Bag o' Beans in Tagaytay.

Just Say No

I'm like a two-year old with my new favorite word: No. 

I say "No" now even to good things from good people to make up for all the "No's" I should have said since I learned how to say "Yes".

It has surprised some people that I can say No. Yes, I can. I just chose not to before because I thought that was the right thing to do. In saying No now, I'm saying Yes to myself.

I am not talking about drugs, alcohol, or any of those heavy stuff that I have

and will always say No to. Well, alcohol probably to a certain extent, is okay. But this is not about the Seven Deadly Sins or anything like that. This is also not about work. Of course at work, as long as it's part of the penumbra of my job description, I should do it. I don't mind.

These No's I'm now saying refer to the mundane things that people take for granted. I'm now saying Yes to my heart, to my soul, to my conscience, and it means more time to think, 

to breathe, to rest, and to sleep.  

For the longest time I have been a people-pleaser, and it did not help that I had the stuff to pull it off. And it 

amazes me now that supposedly shy people can really be pushy when 

demanding me to do things. "You do it; you're good at it." I have come to hate those words.

But before, I thought it was my God-given duty to play the piano, to sing, to write, to speak, to listen, to organize, to entertain, to pay, to type, to call, to text, to lead, to 

understand, to give, to wait, etc. I also thought it was the most loving thing to do.

So I feel guilty when I say No. I really do. I feel bad. I berate myself. I wonder if I'm worth anything at all, just because I said No.

Lately I've noticed how other people say No without even explaining why, and how 

they get away with it. I want to be able to do that. It's been done to me countless times. "You do it Ella, because nobody else will."

That's not true. Nobody else will do it because I've been asked, expected, or required to do it. And I've always tried to give my best when I say Yes.

I will end by re-posting something that I uploaded to my Facebook account. The PostSecret entry says it all.

Sheer Lack of Professional Care

My two-year old Nokia E65 began showing signs of old age, so I decided to take it to the Nokia Professional Care Center in Tomas Morato, QC, for some much-needed Phone TLC.

Over the years, my family and I have partonized this Care Center as it was nearest to our place and was definitely away from the madding mall crowd.

I went on a weekday, after work. There were about five people ahead of me. I was given a number and asked to register my contact information and specific phone concerns to a computer. "Wow, high-tech," I thought.

When my number was called, I went to one of the booths to talk to a customer service person. I assumed that she had all my phone complaints down pat, after all, I typed them all down and the computer screen was right in front of her. She asked me what I needed, and I assumed this was just SOP.

I told her that I needed to change my cellphone's cover. She inspected the phone and told me that it also had a "rough slide". She was not smiling, and I could sense that she wanted to get the session over and done with so she could proceed to the next customer. I had other questions about my office-issued Nokia phone. She abruptly said, "That part is out of stock, ma'am." I asked when it would be available. She shrugged and gave me a look that to me meant, "I don't know and I don't care." I told myself it was almost time for the shop to close and she was probably tired.

She made bullet-point notes on my Job Order form based on our conversation. I asked her to call me first to give me the quotation for any repairs needed. I also asked when my phone would be ready. She said to ask for the status the next day. I inquired if they had a service phone and she again stared at me as if I asked something out of the ordinary. She said the repair could take weeks. And again, the look that told me, "Live with it."

I tried calling the next day but both lines were busy. And the next. And the next. I waited for any message from them, but nothing came. Finally, after four days, I was able to get through. I gave the one who answered the phone my Job Order No., thinking that she would be able to answer my inquiries based on their high-tech computerized system.

I was made to wait for two, maybe three minutes, and I was tempted to put down the phone and get back to work. The girl finally returned to the line and informed me about the price quotation. I asked her if that covered the part I wanted replaced only, or if it included the repair for the "rough slide".

"Wait lang po, Ma'am, I will ask." More minutes passed. Upon her return, she said the price quoted covered everything, BUT she had to inform me that the parts they needed for the "rough slide" were not available. I asked when they would be available. I was already irritated. She was not sure how to respond and had to ask someone else for every question I had. What was the purpose of the computerized client registration and Job Order system again? I asked her to place the order for the parts immediately. I doubt now if she did.

I also specifically asked if I could have the phone back the next day, as it had my complete phonebook, and if they could just replace the function keys, which was the subject of my original complaint. I was not complaining about the "rough slide", really. She said I could pull out the phone and I could try calling other branches if they had the parts I needed.

When I got there to retrieve my phone a week later, as the shop was really out of the way, I was given a number and asked to register. I said, "I've already registered. Can't you just pull out my file?"

I asked that because in our office, we refrain from asking clients questions repeatedly, as all their information was already in our Client File, viewable by a few clicks of our computer mouse. This avoids wasting our clients' precious time.

I mean, come on, Nokia, people pay thousands of pesos for your phones. The least you could provide us is TRUE PROFESSIONAL CARE. Tell me what's so professional about this. Read below what else went on. I know I have friends in Nokia. Maybe the fault lies in this particular Care Center. But right now, where I am, it reflects on the brand.

I reluctantly re-registered on their (now low-tech) computer and handed my job Order to the guy who went inside, presumably to locate my phone. A customer service rep saw me lingering and asked what I needed. I said a guy already took my form and I was claiming my phone.

Without asking for my name, customer number, or Job order no., this girl (the one I spoke with last time, just my luck), asked me to sit down. She went inside for about five minutes, and returned with a phone and some forms. She was typing away when I noticed that the phone she had in her hand was NOT my phone. I told her so.

She asked, as if this happened all the time, "Ma'am, what is your name?" I tried to control my voice, as I felt my blood rising upon hearing this. I gave my name and asked her to get my phone.

She returned with the phone, which was in the same state as when I had left it two weeks ago. I asked her why they had not replaced the function keys. She gave me a bewildered look. I said, "I phoned and the girl who answered told me that you could replace it." It turned out, after verifying with her colleagues, that the girl who answered the phone did not bother to check that the only spare part available was already assigned to another customer.

The girl on the customer service desk returned, without smiling, without apologies, and informed me that I had to wait for the replacement part to be ordered. I wanted to ask, "From where? Finland?" but stopped myself. I bet they did not know when the part would be available either.

Instead I asked to have my phone back, told her that I was extremely dissatisfied with their service, that they had to get their act together, that they wasted my time, and that I was NEVER coming back to their service center.

As I was seething during the drive home, I wondered if they deliberately made cellphone repair inconvenient to force clients to buy a new phone. Well in my case they only succeeded in making me lose interest in their products. I was in the business of customer service for the past two years, and with the way the staff of Nokia Professional Care Center handled themselves during my past two visits, I doubted if they were professional, or if they even cared.

After this experience, it just became clearer: that after using that brand for more than a decade, I have had enough. My next phone will no longer be a Nokia.

Things I Don't Get v. 2009

This is me being real.

Things I Don't Get v. 2009

1. Why PAG-ASA predicted a super typhoon that is three hours late already, and why Storm Signal No. 2 was prematurely raised today, thus costing students another school day.  Not that they are complaining.  I just wish PAG-ASA would be more accurate and more consistent.
2. Why MMDA or whoever is in charge assigns people to clean flyovers during rush hour.  I pass through Commonwealth Ave. everyday at about 8 a.m., and motorists have to slow down to avoid side-swiping the street sweepers and/or their big brooms.  Precious minutes are lost easily.  I can imagine people in a meeting somewhere, so used to doing things as they have been doing for decades.  Let's try to consider the safety of the workers, and the schedule of the commuters.  
3. Why, for that matter, road repairs are not done off-rush hour so as to avoid delaying working people.  I've blogged about this before.  It irritates me no end to find that the cause of traffic jams is a group of workers painting the (Libis-Katipunan) underpass.  I don't care if it costs more to pay workers the night-shift differential.  Productivity is a greater value, and a stress-avoider (for people like me, most likely).
4. Why little local politicians have the gall to splash their faces on all manner of banners and streamers.  Happy Father's Day from Mayor's Son-in-Law So and So.  Puhlllease.  Feed the hungry, get my vote.
5. Why a lot of Pinoys ignore pedestrian overpasses and lanes, and choose to cross where they shouldn't, and have expressions of glee and excitement as they jaywalk.  Are they cats that they have nine lives?  Do they trust that all cars, buses, and jeeps will have proper brakes?  
6. Why some drivers feel the need for speed at inappropriate times and places.  One morning, I saw a gasoline truck speeding at about 80 kph from the QC Elliptical Road going to Commonwealth, cutting across several lanes (swerving is more like it), and I caught a glimpse of the driver.  He looked thrilled to have all vehicles avoid his truck - the one that says FLAMMABLE - so early in the morning.  I wanted to revoke his license.  What was that man on that morning?!
7. Why some radio DJs are given shows at all, when they have the capacity to churn out useless information, or worse, promote the wrong concepts to the youth.  I don't find their morning shows funny.  I believe in their freedom to express, and in my freedom to tune out.  I find myself saying often, "Stop talking.  Play music!"
8. Why a nation of intelligent people still elects inept leaders.  I am not a social scientist, so I count on those who know how to teach the next generation how to use their heads.

There is more where that came from, but that's enough ranting for now.

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.

Unceremonious Graduation from Torture

I woke up last Saturday not knowing that it would be my Freedom Day. That after several years of enduring braces on my teeth, my orthodontist was finally going to take them off.

I wish I had known beforehand. I would have prepared a little ceremony. I would have asked my parents to accompany me. I would have arranged for my friends to meet us after, so we could all have a nice lovely lunch.

Instead, it happened this way. When I got home on Friday night, Mama told me that my dentist's secretary called and informed her that the Doc wanted to see me on Saturday, and that I had to confirm anytime during the night. It was very important, the secretary said. Mama wondered what that was all about.

I explained to her that during my last few visits, I had strongly hinted that I was going to get myself featured in a dental magazine as the Person Who Had Braces on the Longest. The secretary begged me not to do it, as she said nobody would come to their clinic anymore. I said I was giving them (the dental team) an ultimatum. They had to take the braces off as they were preventing me from migrating abroad, getting married... basically getting a life.

I was using humor as usual to hide what to me was a source of frustration and irritation. I could have gone lawyerly and just filed a lawsuit for them to do their job properly and get my teeth fixed, pronto. They promised it would only take two years. Sure, I had missed out on a few appointments, but that started when I was already tired of those wires and bands that were residing in my mouth.

During my last visit, another dentist from the same team saw me. I had gone on a Friday, after several years of going on Saturdays, that's why I chanced upon her. She was mildly shocked to see that I still had braces on, and that my stubborn teeth still had not moved closer together.

My theory is that doctora talked to The Doctor, and informed him of my threat of a Dental Magazine Expose.

I had a full schedule last Saturday, with errands, chores, and meetings, but I squeezed in ten minutes to see my ortho. Little did I know that I was going to stay there for more than an hour, miss my movie date with my parents, and be poorer by a couple of thousand bucks.

He told me that he discussed my case with his team and they had decided to do recontouring, so that we all didn't have to wait anymore for the day when my teeth would finally obey the braces. I endured an hour of pushing and pulling, with my dentist working his magic, as if I had lost all my teeth on some accident and he was giving me an appearance of a perfect smile. He took a before-and-after photo. He took the darn braces off. I had to raise my hand to get gargle breaks during the procedure, as I had not eaten lunch (this was an unplanned procedure) and some acid from my stomach got caught up in my throat.

Afterwards, he told me, "Congratulations. This is your graduation day. No more braces."

I went home dazed. Magazine popularity? Gone. Possible lawsuit? Prevented (at least for now. Hehe). Pearly white smile? Here I come.

That night, while eating Mango Bravo at Conti's, I gave my friend K a bright smile, hoping she would notice. She asked if I meant she had chocolate on her teeth. I said no and kept my toothy smile. She said, "No Ella you don't have chocolate on your teeth." Our other friends who knew about my recent graduation from torture laughed and told her what I was smiling about. They found out about it on Facebook. My nephews immediately noticed when they came to visit the next day. Kids just pay more attention, sometimes.

If only all my braces would come off. Then I would have every reason to smile more.

Now Showing: The Women

For a woman who likes to read chick lit and watch chick flicks to entertain herself, I was extremely disappointed with the remake of the movie "The Women". 

The all-star cast did not move me.  What could they do with a poorly-written script, stereotypical characters, predictable plot, and frantic pacing?  The actresses were all "acting" as if on theater, pushing their characters to the limit, and ending up looking like they were desperately trying to prove a point, that women stand up for each other, or at least should do so.  

It could have been handled better, and I say this with additional disappointment, for this was an all-woman cast and crew (almost), and I was rooting for them to show the world the great stuff that women could churn out.  

The relationship between the four main characters could have made more sense if the audience could see why they were friends in the first place.  There was no chemistry and it looked too forced to me, as if they were trying so hard to "be their character" that they forgot how to loosen up and just let the "great friendship" flow aroud them.  

BFFs Mary (Meg Ryan) and Sylvie (Annette Bening) had to constantly remind each other that they were "best friends", when in real life this just happens to women, and this could have been better depicted by looks and actions between the two.  The supportive friends were just secondary characters whose main goal in the movie was "to be there" for Mary, even if it meant sacrificing their relationships and careers.  Who made Mary the center of the universe?  

Debra Messing looked as if she was channeling Dharma of Dharma and Greg.  Jada Pinkett Smith had the most interesting character to portray, but alas, she was not given a meatier script.  She had to act as if on a teaching video of  "How a Lesbian Should React in Each and Every Situation She and Her Heterosexual Friends Are Confronted With".  Talk about putting people into boxes.  

The confrontation between Mary and The Other Woman should have crackled with sarcasm and oozed with pain.  Instead I was just frustrated at Mary and irritated at Crystal (Eva Mendes).  It was unrealistic and unbelievable, even under the excuse that Mary was prohibited by her "smart mother" from confronting her husband Stephen and The Other Woman, and Crystal was a hopeless gold digger with no morals.  I blame the script and the direction.

Mary's behavior did not satisfy me.  It was as if she was in  a long movie commercial of "How a Woman With a Philandering Husband Should Respond".  I would have wanted a more realistic, grounded take on one of the most common problems for women.  It seemed too smooth and too easy.  Meg Ryan tended to smile too much and laugh as if her world was not falling apart.  Maybe that was the point of the movie, but again, they could have shown it more convincingly.  

There was definitely something missing and a whole lot of talking (my father could not last fifteen minutes of the film) that it got too noisy for me during some scenes.  Perhaps the people behind it were too happy that they got the rights to the remake and they had all those beautiful and famous actresses to play their boxed characters that they did not bother to look at the details and nuances that women were expecting to be entertained with.  Annette, one of my favorite actresses, gave the most textured performance of them all, but even she could not salvage a movie this predictable.

The First Wives Club handled the topic of male infidelity better - it was humorous and at the same time staggering to watch.  Or that scene when Emma Thompson held back sobs so her children would not hear her heart breaking from Love, Actually - that really moved me to tears. Even Sex and the City (which was more about Love rather than Sex, to my delight) was five stars better at showing women power, although the budget for wardrobe and accessories there was almost criminal and resulted in corrupting women everywhere to "lust" after goods and to look fabulous at fifty, "the new forty".  

Maybe I'm growing older and pickier, but this movie simply did not do it for me.  It was just one long Dove commercial and an utter waste of talent.

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.

My Minnie Mouse Night Shirt Says "Having a Me Moment"

To chase the blues away, we need to laugh a little.  Once in a while, we need to pat ourselves on the back and say we did a good job at something.  

So allow me to have a "me moment" and just to sing about...

ME

(My reflections on the song "You", originally recorded by Basil Valdez)

I give you hope,
The strength, the will to keep on;
No one else can make you feel this way
And only I
Can bring out all the best you can do;
You believe I turn the tide
And make you feel real good inside.

I push you up
When you're about to give up;
I'm on your side when no one seems to listen
And if I go,
I know the tears can't help but show
I'll break your heart and tear it apart;
Then suddenly the madness starts.

Refrain:
It's my smile,
My face, my lips that you miss,
My sweet little eyes that stare at you
And make you say,
You're with me through all the way.

'Cause it's me
Who fills the emptiness in you;
It changes ev'rything, you see,
When you know you've got me with you.

I push you up
When you're about to give up;
I'm on your side when no one seems to listen
And if I go,
I know the tears can't help but show
I'll break your heart and tear it apart;
Then suddenly the madness starts.

(Once more with feeling...)

It's my smile,
My face, my lips that you miss,
My sweet little eyes that stare at you
And make you say,
You're with me through all the way.

'Cause it's me
Who fills the emptiness in you;
It changes ev'rything, you see,
When you know you've got me with you.

(Last na...)

It's my smile,
My face, my lips that you miss,
My sweet little eyes that stare at you
And make you say,
You're with me through all the way.

'Cause it's me
Who fills the emptiness in you;
It changes ev'rything, you see,
When you know you've got me with you.

I only wrote this because I know you won't read this anyway.  You don't have to thank me.  I know what I did last summer.

I Need a Hero. Now.

I saw Superman Returns on HBO and could not help wishing I were Lois Lane.  There are worse things in life than to be caught between James Marsden and Brandon Routh.  Cyclops and Superman, fighting for your love.  

The rest of us women have to settle for humans.  In X-Men, I soo wanted to be Jean Grey, and run off with Wolverine and leave "the kid".  But I digress.

I've always had a thing for Superman, as I wrote in my other blog.  He is boring as far as Batman and Spiderman fans are concerned, but there can only be one SUPERman.  His strength and speed are only matched by his Hollywood versions' stunning looks and awesome built.  A girl could deliberately fall off a cliff if only to be rescued by Superman.

But there are no sighs here. I know, in the real world, I generally try to avoid cliffs.  Period.

Let me break into a Bonnie Tyler song now.  This one's for you, Superman.  Wherever you are.  

Holding Out for  a Hero

(From the Soundtrack of Footloose, with a Remake in Shrek II)

Where have all the good men gone
And where are all the gods?
Where's the street-wise Hercules
To fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I toss and turn and dream
of what I need

[Chorus]

I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure
And it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life

Somewhere after midnight
In my wildest fantasy
Somewhere just beyond my reach
There's someone reaching back for me
Racing on the thunder end rising with the heat
It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet

[Chorus]

Up where the mountains meet the heavens above
Out where the lightning splits the sea
I would swear that there's someone somewhere
Watching me

Through the wind end the chill and the rain
And the storm and the flood
I can feel his approach
Like the fire in my blood

A Plea for Better Mornings

This may be an exercise in futility, but I reckon a personal blog is as good a venue as any to air out my grievances, however useless they may seem at this point.

I would like to complain about the worsening traffic situation in Metro Manila, specifically along Commonwealth Avenue going to QC Circle. I know, I know, hundreds, maybe thousands, of motorists simply shrug their shoulders, doze off (if they're on a public vehicle), send text messages, fix their hair, pray the rosary, prepare for their work day, and find other ways to while away the precious time that is used up while stuck on the road.

I was going to send this via Citizens' Watch of the Philippine Daily Inquirer but I could not get a good shot of the traffic jam with my cellphone while avoiding getting side-swiped by drivers who refuse to stick to their lanes. On a side note, a Nissan Sentra drove too close for comfort one day and caused my right side mirror to flap close. The good driver then nosed his way onto the space before me, oblivious to what he had just done. Sigh.

I am a tiny voice in a world used to inconveniences such as this. Still, I refuse to go quietly into the night.

Six years ago, I started driving to work. Before that, I was an MRT enthusiast. The law office I worked at was located in Pasig then and it only took me 45 minutes each morning to get to work. Since June of this year when I started going to another office in Pasig, I noticed that it took me two hours to ply the same route.

Two hours, mother? What about our other duties?

The MMDA started digging along the rightmost lane of the portion of Commonwealth from PSSC up to the former Paskong Pasiklab, before Philcoa, about a month ago, and it made our lives hell. For some reason, that construction site had affected the whole of Commonwealth up to Fairview. It didn't matter if we left our houses an our earlier than usual, the result was the same. Commonwealth always looked like a parking lot in the morning.

I could not just groan and bear it any longer. If the city government, or MMDA, or other entities responsible for that construction site could read this blog somehow, I would like you to know how terribly inconvenienced a whole lot of people are because traffic is not properly managed along that area. Surely, with some coordination among proper authorities and a little careful planning, we could avoid this traffic jam. Please do something about it.

There was even one payday Friday when, on my way to work, aside from the usual crawl along Commonwealth, I saw three road accidents, Meralco doing repairs and using up one lane along Quezon Ave. thus affecting traffic along Elliptical Road, and MMDA cutting trees in the same area. By the time I got to the office, I was already late for my meeting and utterly out of patience.

I admit that I'm not a very patient person. I still get upset when my flights get delayed, for which my friends chide me, especially at night when I worry for my safety alone in a taxicab. Somewhere in this traffic experience, I know I should learn the lessons that so many others seem to handle well. It's just that I'm going back to the corporate world after two years as a full-time mission worker.

Things like these don't exactly welcome me back to the real world with open arms.