08.31.06
Posted in Uncategorized at 5:12 am by cla-uplb
i took another long jeepney ride today– a perfect opportunity to enjoy the evening breeze and ponder on some things like the possibility of getting sick and staying in bed for the next few days. although i would terribly hate coming down with the flu and a fever, the idea of staying in bed is as appealing as vanilla ice cream.
anyway, the said jeepney ride made me think of one of my childhood fantasies…becoming a princess. i used to dress up my dolls in full princess attire– the sequined gown, the tiara, the silver glass shoes. and as a silly kid, i used to dress myself up with our curtains and bedsheets for my gown, complete with my mom’s high-heeled shoes, her make-up and yes, that fancy headband with its equally fancy beads and stones for my crown. i never thought about a prince or an escort. i just wanted to be a princess and wear the tiara and the gown and experience the magical feeling of going to balls and dancing and being beautiful and feeling special.
but princess dreams are princess dreams. in our reality, it is a far-fetched, if not, an impossible dream. i never got to be prom queen, a very sad, but expected fate, considering that i was a geek and a wallflower and so unlikely to transform into a princess in one night. besides, we didn’t have a ‘prom queen’.
i’ve given up on my princess dreams. not because of bitterness, but because of the simple fact that one outgrows such childhood thoughts and insanities.
so if someone suddenly calls you ‘princess’, you back off and think and think and think. you’re not 1o years old anymore and being called ‘princess’ by someone requires more than just blushing and feeling giddy and excited and happy. you don’t give in to that sweet endearment, no matter if its one of the sweetest names you’ve been called. you don’t think about the blush, the excitement or the rush of heat in your veins. instead, you play devil’s advocate and you ask yourself what the heck this person must be thinking and what the motives are, because there’s usually one. you’re just being cautious because it’s a one-in-a-million chance that someone calls you that name.
you just have to forget that someone thinks of you as a ‘princess’. and even if that someone is probably one of the best, most gallant ‘prince’ you’ve ever met, you’re not going to do anything about it because, princesses have rules to follow and an image to protect. and so you take that jeepney ride and think about what a princess should do then…
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08.25.06
Posted in Uncategorized at 10:45 pm by cla-uplb
i love my friday nights. after work, id usually go home, turn on the TV to watch the news, buy myself a roasted chicken and eat my dinner in bed. sometimes, i clean my room first, put away all the clothes and the CDs and the tapes and the papers. when im too tired to eat or clean, id spend the night reading a good book. when the whole gang’s around, my friday nights are spent drinking some beer and wallowing in the usual rantings about work and salary and dreams. lately, ive taken to spending my friday nights with my laptop, writing articles or watching a pirated DVD of grey’s anatomy (whohooh! there’s something about doctors and surgeries and hospitals that i simply just can’t resist).
just like my jeepney rides, i treasure my friday nights. It’s my bonding moment with myself. it’s the perfect time to bring some order in my jungle of a room, iron my clothes, do the laundry, work on my scrapbook, indulge on a good book or a good movie, and binge full-blast on junkfood and chips and chocolates and ice creams. friday nights are my panacea nights — moments for healing and cleansing my mind and spirit and body.
sometimes, i wonder about going out on a date on a friday night,– eating and wining with some nice, preppy guy, enjoying the talk and the flirting(heheheh) and relishing the moment before he leaves me and says goodnight. but then of course, these are fantasies, and the nice, preppy guy is probably doing some obscure writing or any of those things nice, preppy guys do on friday nights.
perhaps im too self-absorbed to ever really care about my friday nights. because, believe it or not, i hunger for my own company and my friday nights are the perfect time to enjoy myself, whether im belching out some hopelessly romantic love song, watching those doctors do surgeries, or simply fantasize about the nice, preppy guy with me on a date.
i think we all need to spend some time with ourselves, get to know who we are, commune with our inner selves. the world tends to be so busy and so impersonal that we lose touch with the very essence of our being. (why am i suddenly being so dramatic here?!?). okay, im cutting this crap. if nice, preppy guy suddenly decides to stop his writing and asks me out on a date, i wouldn’t mind missing my usual friday nights routine. weheheheheheheh…
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08.22.06
Posted in Uncategorized at 4:59 am by cla-uplb
in my undergrad years, i used to walk, along with my sister, munching on chips and talking about mom and dad, our siblings, the construction of our house in the province, her med studies, my crush. but the honest-to-goodness truth is that, we walked because jeepney fare could already go a long way, given our very meager student allowance.
these days, i love jeepney rides in lb. and not because i can already afford the jeepney fare with my meager teacher’s salary, but because i love the sense of freedom these jeepney rides often lend to my work-muddled brain. i love taking jeepney rides (even if a 30-minute walk to robinson’s can do my legs and figure a whole lot of good) and feeling the wind brush my face, my hair flying almost like in a dramatic, cliche MTV. i especially love hitching a jeepney ride on a weekend afternoon when there are very few students and i have the jeep all to myself. i love taking the long cut, from my place in raymundo, to the dorms, to the freedom park, to ANSCI, to engineering, to the Math building, and out the campus to Grove and Junction. i feel a certain kind of high over the fact that im letting someone else worry about my safety, worry about getting me to my destination, worry about my life, even for a few minutes. feeling the wind brush my hair and face provides me with a liberating, refreshing feeling. add to this the wonderful idea of just sitting back in that one corner of the jeep and enjoying the view while someone else worries about getting from destination One to destination Two. unknowingly, in that few minutes of jeepney ride, i have put my trust and my life in someone else’s hand.
and more than just the feeling of ‘liberation’, my jeepney rides are perfect moments for self-introspection — the articles im writing, the test papers i have to check, the lessons for next week, the attraction of a higher pay in the corporate world, the countries id like to visit, my sister’s med studies, stuff to buy for myself, my family, that nice, wonderful attraction to some obscure writer, the way he talks, he smiles, and so on and so on and so on. and well, before i get to the really juicy parts of my wanderings, the jeep has stopped in front of robinson’s and id have to leave that cozy corner of the jeepney and tackle the shopping carts now. come to think of it, you forget about the traffic, about the smell of the guy sitting beside you, of the old lady handing over her fare, of the child crying and blowing his nose, of the mother scolding her kid in her shrill, high voice.
there’s something about jeepney rides, and its more than just the loud stereo belching out a viva hot babe song and the smoke and the pollution…
…its trusting your life to someone else. its about surrender, about oblivion, about indulging in your private thoughts, about liberation, about the wind and the air and the hottie who suddenly sits beside you and says "Paabot naman po ng bayad." no, unfortunately, its not the writer… hehehe
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08.06.06
Posted in Uncategorized at 3:35 am by cla-uplb
Late bloomer. That’s me. It seems like everything in my life came a tad too late. Okay, perhaps not late, but just way behind most people’s standards.
When I was in elementary, I’ve always wanted to be an honor student. I had dreams of going up on the stage and accepting that much-coveted medal. I never got the chance to do it. Instead, my turn came when I was in second year high school, a tad late for my childhood dreams. I placed 8th in the honor roll for a first-timer. It was such a surprise I didn’t immediately realize that it was my name they were calling. Someone had to nudge me on the back. When things started to sink in and I fumbled on the stage to receive the award, it was too late to pose for a proper, decent-looking photograph.
In fourth year high school, I was the last one to know that they’re sending their college applications. I crammed my UPCAT application two days before the deadline. At least it wasn’t late. But had I known about it earlier, I would have been able to decide on the better course or at least, taken the time to consider applying in other schools. Even my UPCAT test permit came late. Two days before the scheduled exam, everyone was talking about seating arrangements and testing centers. They had their test permits ready. I was still wondering where in the world the postman delivered mine. I got it the next day, not late, but just in time. Nevertheless, had it arrived earlier, I would have been able to review properly sans the worry that I can’t take the exam because I don’t have my test permit.
The best job offers came too late. I was already accepting calls and working on graveyard shifts when one of my dream institutions called and asked for an interview. I had to turn them down because I already had a job, which I later on ditched because another late offer came. This time, I didn’t think twice about giving the late offer a chance. Still, had they come earlier, I would have been saved from the trouble of ditching a job, even the whole shebang of dressing up in corporate attire and leaving my place at such ungodly hours.
I began to have a social life a little later compared to my contemporaries. I learned to drink beer during my first year as a teacher. And it was because my students were giving me a farewell party. I began to hangout in bars and Starbucks and Seattle’s Best when I began earning my salary. I had my first camera phone when I received my first ever 13th month pay. Always a wallflower and a geek back in high school and college, I didn’t know that I can be a social butterfly, that I can mingle and sit back and drink coffee while ogling out all the preppy, nice-looking guys in the bar. My first date (if you can even call it a date, probably more of a chill-out night) was during my first Christmas as a professional.
I’ve always known myself as the awkward girl-next-door, one of the boys with my cropped haircut and loud laughter. It wasn’t until I learned how to dress up and wear dangling earrings and had revolutionized my hairstyle into wavy, sexy curls(and all these took place when I started working) did I realize that I can be the sophisticated socialite I’ve always dreamt of becoming in my fantasies. It must have been because it was only during this time that I had the money to pamper myself. But the point still remains, the money and the metamorphosis from awkward, geeky girl to sophisticated socialite came a tad too late. While my contemporaries have moved on to being experts in the game, trying out the next level, I am but a novice.
Even my love life seems to be following this pattern. My first ever attraction to the opposite sex was in third year high school. At this time, many of the girls in our school had moved on from simple flirtation and crush to being a couple. I was just learning the ropes of how it is to have a crush. At that time, all I could manage to do was watch him from afar and read about his achievements from friends and classmates. This time though, I’ve learned the art of subtlety, thanks to forwarded messages in my cellphone and YM messages and Friendster. There’s always a good excuse to drop by and say hi.
Affairs of the heart, in my case, are progressing at a snail’s pace, though. While most of my batchmates and friends have an endless string of boyfriends, fiancées or are even married with a couple of kids, I’m still here, with no boyfriend to claim, whether an ex or a soon-to-be-boyfriend. It has become a sort of joke with my friends that probably, just like with almost everything in my life, my love life is a late-bloomer too. So perhaps, by the time my friends have grandkids, I’ll be having my first boyfriend. Heheheh…
The ironic thing is, despite all these, I’m not even the always-late type of person. I was never late in my entire high school and college classes. I cram but I try to submit my outputs on time. I try to be punctual during meetings. I try not to be late.
I’ve always been accused by my parents and friends for being too impatient. My mom would always tell me that everything has its own season. I don’t have to rush. The perfect offer will come in its own good time. I just need to wait. Having my first boyfriend at the age of 30 isn’t too late (?!). If that isn’t late, then what is? My friend accused me of blurting the words too soon thus the reason for that unexpected crash to reality. Now, I’m in danger of blurting the same words again prematurely, because I’m not patient enough to wait for the perfect time to come. When is the perfect time then?
Believe me, I wouldn’t mind waiting. But I definitely do not want to be at the waiting line for the rest of my life. Who knows I may not live long enough to enjoy that which came too late. Patience pays off, they say. They’re right, the longer you wait for that thing you so desperately want to have, the more lasting the taste of triumph is when you finally achieve it.
I don’t have any reason to complain. Despite being late, all those things came, except for the boyfriend. I became a novice sophisticated socialite, an honor student, an instructor in my dream school. I bloomed, albeit late. Yes, there is a wisdom to my mom’s words. But sometimes, I just can’t help but ask, “Can’t you hurry it up a bit?”
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08.05.06
Posted in Uncategorized at 3:41 am by cla-uplb
ive been trying to fight it, this insane desire to write another entry. but its raining and im so tired of lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling and debating with myself the wisdom of texting him or not. so im going write this one instead.
a friend told me how my blog entries became a ‘major hit’ (if i may be allowed to use the term) with his officemates. hehehe… to all of you: i don’t know if it was just an exaggeration, but thanks for the appreciation! its quite hard to take in, the idea that there’s a bunch of people who enjoyed reading my blog entries, given the fact that i dont even know them. but thank you. you don’t know what it did for my ego. (PS: thank you for the offer, and jeff and i were laughing about it, considering that its a flattering offer for someone who doesn’t have a lovelife. but id have to turn it down. im afraid my heart’s already taken. wehehehehehehe… )
perhaps this is part of my mission in this world — make people laugh with my entries, inspire them to read in fast food literature fashion, and share the daily ramblings of my not-so important life. geez, we’re getting dramatic here again. but if this is what im meant to do, then so be it. id better be good at this…
…on other things, between my second and third paragraphs, ive reached a conclusion to that debate i had with myself earlier. the resolution: no text messages. no news or tv reports either. gotta be in control. can’t afford to let this insanity get the better of me. because if i do something again, i just might find myself at the receiving end of his PITY. and that’s something i never want to subject myself to.
till the next inspiration strikes!
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08.02.06
Posted in Uncategorized at 5:47 am by cla-uplb
God works in mysterious ways. two days ago, i was fuming over a little misunderstanding with a friend. i was itching to confront him about the issue until he texted me himself. i never got around to confronting him, but we’ve reached an unspoken understanding. i guess it was better that way. had i given in to my usual stubborn, impatient self, i would have lost a friendship that im not ready to lose.
and then just yesterday, He gave me one of the best surprises of my life — no, its not a boyfriend, thank God! but suffice it to say that i finally achieved one of the many things in my to-do list for this year. this is my third time. and as what one friend said, everytime i write, i get to share a particular stage in my life. the first time was as a student, the second was as a woman, and the third as a professional. i never realized it until he told me that. and true enough, he’s right. the first experience was exhilarating, a big feat for a student struggling to prove something to her professors and to herself. the second time was a bittersweet sharing of one of the most powerful experiences in life. and the shared words were a testimony that i have grown, blossomed into a woman, a girl no more. and this time, well, this time is a testimony of my secret, idealistic dreams, of the force driving me like mad these days, enough for me to forget the emptiness of this heart. "this is where i thrive and grow…this is where im in my element."
i remember clearly how i dabbled with the keyboard of my laptop one very early morning when i couldn’t sleep. the words were coming out like spitfire and my fingers couldn’t type the words fast enough to capture them all on the screen. i didn’t even know what i really wanted to say. a conversation with a student earlier that day just kind of fueled me into writing about it. the next thing i know, i was sending it to the mail. several weeks later i saw it splashed in the daily.
how ironic that the ‘gift’ came at a time when this heart was just smarting from a harsh, ‘expected’ crash. perhaps, it was to compensate for the pain, the disappointment, the rejection. or perhaps, it was just plain coincidence.
He truly works in mysterious ways. We never know it, but He has a way of making us smile after such a heart-breaking loss…
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