2010 List

I was supposed to post something about one of the best people I've met and whom I struck up a strange sorta friendship this year. I thought though that it deserves to be edited first--there were some things I wrote that may raise quite a lot of eyebrows.

Instead, I'm doing my own version of my friend Roan's annual list. Here's mine. You can check hers here.

  

What did you do in 2009 that you'd never done before?
- study in a foreign country, e-mail a teacher random and crazy things :)

Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
- I didn't have resolutions for 2009. But I have a couple of goals for 2010.

Did anyone close to you give birth?
- None. We're a bunch of spinsters.

Did anyone close to you die?
- None, thank goodness.

What countries did you visit?
-Singapore, lah! :)

What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?
-a major comeback in the magazine industry. I'm missing my passion.


 What was your biggest achievement of the year?
-Would you believe, the A- I got in censorship class? :) And impressing one of the profs with my writing.

What was your biggest failure?
-My mediocre grades in all of the rest of the modules.

Did you suffer illness or injury?
-Nothing big, just when I wounded my foot 11 hours before my first exam.

What was the best thing you bought?
-My laptop!

Whose behavior merited celebration?
-Everyone who helped after Ondoy--ditto!

Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
-Politicians. Those responsible for the Maguindanao massacre-- ditto!

Where did most of your money go?
-I didn't spend as much as I used to. There's something about being unemployed that stops me!

What did you get really, really, really excited about?
-My Manila Christmas vacay.


What song(s) will always remind you of 2009?
- Don't Stop Believing.

Compared to this time last year, are you:

i.happier or sadder? -- sadder, sadly. hahaha!
ii. thinner or fatter? -- Fatter!
iii. richer or poorer? -- richer. ahahaha!

What do you wish you'd done more?
-exercise. spend more time with Singapore-based friends. read more fiction.

What do you wish you'd done less of?
-eating and studying.

How many one-night stands?
- none! :)

What was your favorite TV program?
-Glee, Project Runway Philippines, How I Met Your Mother, True Blood

Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
-I dislike. I rarely hate.

What was the best book you read?
- Harry Potter. First time I read it was this year!

What did you want and get?
- To study abroad.

What was your favorite film of this year?
- The September Issue and Avatar. I now love Sam Worthington!

What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
-28. I was stuck at home while Manila was recovering from Ondoy.

What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
-If I spent it seeing more of the Lion City instead of studying.

How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?
-Jeans and sneakers. It will change in 2010.

What kept you sane?
-Music, writing, books, and writing. Always will.

Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
-Sam Worthington!

What political issue stirred you the most?
-the Ondoy related deaths, and how we could have prevented them.

Who did you miss?
-My Flip friends.

Who was the best new person you met?
-A lot. My classmates. There's one person I liked the most, but I'd rather not say who it was. My profs too.

Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009:
- Whatever happens, I'll be fine.

What was the nicest thing someone told you about yourself:
-There were two! 

"You don't have a boyfriend? That's strange. You're an atractive girl"--Nasrath. Ahahahaha! I'm such a sucker for that!
"You're an outstanding writer." Dr. Reimold

The most touching experience you've had this year?
-When Jeni helped me with my injured foot, and when one of the profs told me I'm one of his favorite writers.

What did you like most about yourself this year?
- That I did my best.

What did you hate most about yourself this year?
-I didn't exercise as much as I need. Now I have to lose 10 pounds!

Was 2009 a good year for you?
- Just okay.

What was your favorite moment of the year?
- Partying with the YES! peeps. I should have partied more when we were still together!

What was your least favorite moment of the year?
-the day I got my grades.

Where were you when 2009 began?
- Eating, lighting up and watching fireworks

Who were you with?
-family

Where will you be when 2009 ends?
-at home

Who will you be with when 2009 ends?
-family

Do you have a new years resolution for 2010?
- I have a bunch of goals.

What was your favorite month of 2009?
-December

Did you lose anybody close to you in 2009?
-none, thank goodness.

How many concerts did you see in 2009?
- None, dammit. Will make up for it this year.

Did you drink a lot of alchohol in 2009?
- Yeah. But nothing that made me roaring drunk.

Did a lot of drugs in 2009?
- none

You do anything you are ashamed of this year?
-None. Flirting with those guys was fun, fun, fun!

How much money did you spend in 2009?
- Just enough.

What was your proudest moment of 2009?
- Being told that I was a damn good writer. The insecurities are still there, but at least I'm feeling better.

What was your most embarrassing moment of 2009?
- none.

If you could go back in time to any moment of 2009 and change something, what would it be?
- None. What's done is done.

What are your plans for 2010?
- Exercise more, see more of my Flip friends in Singapore, strike up a deep friendship with somebody in school, read more fiction. live a more balanced life.

How are you different now that the year has ended?
- More realistic now.

What are your wishes for the new year?
- A great job, to lose the 10 pounds I recently gained, dress better, and, flirt with more boys. Ahahahahaha!

Mini Goals AKA an entry in answer to Waiyee's blog entry, and also a flipped finger to my grades

My dearest classmate, the HK diva Waiyee, came up with a blog entry a couple of weeks ago about goals. I told her I’m not the type who has major life goals. I do however, sometimes come up with “mini life goals”—stuff that I want to achieve within the year. I don’t want to call them resolutions—the very word makes sure that I will break them.

So here you have it, my goals for the year:

1. Will wear jeans less often and wear clothes more appropriate for my age. Just now, I’m trying to look for and stock up on dresses that I’ll be proud to wear in my 30’s. Unlike some people, I’m so looking forward to turning 30, but I have to look fab when I do.

2. After getting my grades, I’m going to take things easy. Studying hard is just so not worth it, man. Will live a more balanced life from now on.

3. Related to number 2, will spend more time at the gym and in the pool. I sacrificed exercising to study, and my grades are still blah. Might as well have blah grades yet look great.

My grades are crap. 

4. See more of Millet and Curtis, the SG-based Summit friends. I’ve finally decided to take a shot at working in the Lion City, and I really like it, but I need to be surrounded by old friends to make living in it more fun and fulfilling.

5. Will see more of Singapore. I was totally embarrassed when I told a professor I spend weekends reading (but hey, it was also his fault!) instead of enjoying living in the city. That will change from now on!

6. Will look for that next great best friend in school.

7. Spend more time reading fiction.

8. Get a good job in the magazine industry. Laugh all you want, but my greatest dream now is to sit in the front row of a fashion show during NYC’s fashion week. Seriously.

That’s it! Hope I don’t break them. :)

Merry Christmas!

These are the people worth spending Christmas with, and I'm glad I have them.

The famille

My dad Rene, younger brother Rowell, our youngest brother Rem, me, younger brother Den, and my mom Remy

The sane friends, who act like my parents and look after me even if I don't want or need it.

Me, Jaycee baby, NUS postgrad student Loit, and her boyfriend, Pong

and the irreverent, party-loving former colleagues and friends, who make me want to go back to my previous workplace, no matter how impractical and insane the idea is.

Us at our normal best: mother Analyn, good girl Roan, me, flirtatious Arvee, bride-to-be Candice, the venerable poet Pete L., and my former supervisor, the very sober Anna. 

Us, partying like rock stars: new associate editor Jerome, Arvee, me, poor, getting almost suffocated Tim, Candice, and Tondo girl Neri. The hidden one making the peace sign is the tipsy Analyn. 

These are the people worth going home to the Third World, in spite of the pollution, incompetent politicians, horrendous traffic, bitchy saleswomen, and sleazy men who think they're God's gift to women. They're the people who make my Christmas really merry.

God bless, and have a great Christmas!

  

Happy Anniversary!

Love and marriage, love and marriage/Go together like a horse and carriage!

Today marks the 29^th wedding anniversary of my mom and dad.

These guys don’t really celebrate anniversaries. It’s no big deal, especially for Dad. I was bugging them a couple of years back if, instead of waiting for the 50^th anniv, they can get remarried during their 25^th. Getting re-married during the 50^th anniversary is a Filipino tradition many couples do. Mom was amendable to the idea, but Dad was totally against it. He actually said he will not show up at the city cathedral, and Mom can get married all by herself.  :)

I would like to say that they rarely argue, but I noticed that they now do. When I was a kid, they rarely bicker, and I stated this fact once in my misfit-infested high school class, where a certain loser told me that I was being dishonest by saying that. But that was true. They were too busy working, and I think we, their four rambunctious, moody, talented, and lovable kids, were too much of a distraction. When we started flying out of the coop, though, and we would just visit them during the weekends, that’s when I noticed that they would argue more often. I guess that now that they're in their 50s, Mom and Dad finally realized that they’re married to each other. :)

In spite of this, this marriage is pretty good. I have friends with supremely jealous and needy husbands who constantly check on their wife’s whereabouts, which Dad never did. Mom and Dad leave each other to do whatever they want: Dad, to hang out with his friends and watch basketball the whole day, and Mom, to tend to the unending needs of her nephews, nieces, and siblings.

I also have a friend with a martyr-like mom, who always bowed to her macho husband’s bidding. This was never the dynamic in our household. Like many Pinoy families, Mom is the queen of the household, and Dad her pawn. Hahahaha!

Happy anniversary, guys! Here’s to the 30^th. I hope we can have a Filipiniana-inspired wedding by then. 

Pamasko, or the art of giving alms

Nothing beats spending Christmas in the Philippines. There’s something reassuring about spending the holidays with your family, and with old friends. New friends are great, of course. But nothing beats spending Christmas with old friends who love you at your meanest, bitchiest self—because they’re pretty mean and bitchy themselves.

What I don’t like about Pinoy Christmas is the practice of pamasko. Pamasko is the act of giving cash gifts during the holiday season. Usually, we Flips give it to our young relatives and godchildren. My dad noticed though that everybody—young, geriatric, unemployed, and gainfully employed—ask him for pamasko. My father, unlike yours truly, has earned a reputation in our community for being nice, generous, and cheerful. Christmas, therefore, is the season when countless folks—some of whom we can never identify and never even say hello to us the rest of the year—stretch out their hands to Dad and say, “Tito, namamasko po!” (Hard to translate into English, but it simply means they’re asking Dad for alms.) Once they get what they want, they leave our modest home, without saying thank you, and we never hear from them—until Christmas the following year.

Are gift cheques accepted?

Last year, I gave one of the kids Php150, around SGD6, but is a pretty big amount to kids here in the Philippines. That child said thank you, but her mother—a relative—has the guts to ask me, “That’s it?” This woman never gave me pamasko during my childhood years, and she has an irritating habit of asking me when I’m going to get married. I wanted to slap and strangle her then and there.

I held on to my patience and gave her a tight smile instead. Then, she, a woman with a stable job, asked me, “How about me? Where’s my pamasko?”

These people are hopeless.

Warmth and appreciation, one word at a time

After weeks of thinking of what to give to my professors, I’m finally done with my shopping. I bought a couple of stuff in Singapore, and the rest here in Manila.

Several days ago, I suddenly thought that the gifts were a little too impersonal. I wanted to do something that would really show my appreciation, and tell these professors how much I’ve learned from them. So after attending a press conference, I went to the bookstore and bought these Christmas cards.

One more card and I'm done. 

As a child, I spent my allowance buying numerous Christmas cards for classmates, teachers, and friends. I’d just write “Dear ____, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Sincerely, Rachel.” That was it. Back then, I didn’t know how to write well, and I was never the type who would say something sensitive or emotional. Showing my appreciation to people was simply too corny for me, an angst-ridden kid who grew up during the grunge era.   

Recently, however, I’ve been finding myself writing a lot of sensitive stuff here in my blog. I wrote about my mentor and a couple of friends. There’s really something special about this Christmas season that has made me appreciate people more, and it has made me more willing to say it to them. Maybe because I now spend part of my time living abroad, or maybe because I’m just getting older.

Last night, I wrote in these cards to tell these people how thankful I am for everything I’ve learned from them. I know I’m now a pretty good writer, and that I can express myself more eloquently in writing. I stutter when I speak, and I say some things which, while my intentions may be pure, end up being misinterpreted instead. I learned this the hard way last semester. One day I’ll write about it. But not today. 

I need another one more card though. One card was supposed to be meant for a professor who praised my writing to high heavens, but during the process of writing on the card, I found myself writing to a female professor instead, thanking her for her infinite patience when we acted like fools in class. I’ll buy that card for him soon. I just wish I can think of something more to write, something beyond the “Thanks for being supportive of my writing” line. He made the first semester a little more enjoyable. I think he deserves a little more ass-kissing from me.

Joan and Annalyn

If you’re one of the very few people who read this blog, you’d probably think that my YES! years were all hunky dory. I mean, I really love my job. There is something inspiring about being surrounded by so many brilliant people in showbiz, and nothing beats the rush of seeing your name in print.

But there were also days when I felt lost, frustrated, and upset. The daily grind of work often took its toll. What kept me sane during those years were heart-to-heart talks with Joan, and later, Annalyn.

I met Joan during my application interview, and that early, I knew we were kindred souls. We went through the same highs and the same shitty lows. Whatever I felt during those first two years, she did as well. We thought we weren’t good enough, and that writing, as much as we love it, can be tortuous and pure hell. To cope, we would go to the cinemas (our office was housed inside a mall) and watch movies together until midnight, then go back to the office to log out, thereby completing our required 10.5 hours for the day. Yes, we're two little she-devils who sometimes loved breaking the rules.

Joanie eating a bag of Tomi in NYC.

You can just imagine how difficult it was for me to navigate the succeeding years without Joan, who, after a year and a half, left Manila for New York. I’m glad though that Annalyn came along. If Joan was my partner-in-crime, Annalyn acted the part of the level-headed older sister, who gave the sanest advice in moments of sheer insanity. She patiently listened to my woes, and even more patiently when I talked about all the men (and I mean all!) that I’m obsessing about. I’m also friends with the other YES! girls, but there are some things that I can only talk to her, like the alienation I sometimes feel in NTU, and how hard for somebody like me, who never fit in, to be perfectly square in Singapore. Mother Annalyn tries to sort things out for me, me who’s always unhinged and confused.

Annalyn and I at the office pantry, the site of our many "sessions."

I’ve always been the type who finds it hard to make new friends. I need time, and enough drama to bond well with somebody.  That's why I find it hard to let go of old friends, because it took me so much effort to build my relationships with them. I have to accept that I will never work with Annalyn or Joan—ever—and that while we may be still friends, I have to make new friends and hope  that those relationships would be as good as the ones I had with these two girls.

For now, I would just have to content myself with my frequent visits to Manila to see Annalyn and the rest of the YES! girls. And Joan, I know, I feel, that I’ll be in New York soon. I’m working on it. We’ll raise hell in NYC. I promise.

One Night at Changi

Budget airlines have the most interesting flight schedules. My flight out of the Lion City was at 6:30, which left me no choice but to camp out at Changi, or else I would have to pay more than SGD 50 for taxi fare. The airport was unbearably, numbingly cold, made colder by the fact that except for us Flips, there were very few people milling about.

Changi has some really interesting Christmas decor. Hmmm...

I spent the night reading a novel, and when that eventually bored me, I resorted to talking to one of the fellow Flip passengers from Darwin, Australia. Our conversation went like this:

Man: You should try working in Australia. You can end up being a PR.

Me: I prefer to work here though. Singaporeans are very nice. And you can also be a PR eventually.

Man: How much is the Singaporean dollars worth when you convert it to peso?

Me: SGD 1 to Php 32.

Man (a little arrogantly): Ah, the Australian dollar is worth a lot more.

By this time, I have a feeling the conversation is heading to dangerous territory.

Man: Are you single?

Me: Yeah. It’s very hard to leave your family behind just to study.

Man: Do you plan to go home and get married after this?

I looked at the man and thought, “Hell, no!” I did not leave my comfortable life in the Philippines, complete with maids, membership in a swanky gym, and a slew of weird, creative, and funny friends, to study in one of the toughest schools in Asia just to go home and get married after I’m done with it. But since I've lived in Singapore, I’ve learned to be nicer and be more patient. So I gave the man a sweet, bleary-eyed smile, and said, “No.”

Today's lucky number...13.

What is it about marriage that we Flips bring up the topic to people we’ve just met? Shortly before I left for school, I needed to get my insurance ID. There, I met a woman who had the temerity to tell me, “You’re 28, and still single?!” Yes. Is that a mortal sin?

What’s the big deal about being married? Is it that much fun? If it is, how come many of the married people I know (with the exception of magazine editor Frances Amper-Sales) end up looking like hell after only a couple of years of marriage?

And why do we Flips have this tendency to impose it on other people, especially to those who are so uninterested in it? As much as I love the Christmas season, I actually dread Christmas day itself. Christmas is the day when everybody—aunts, uncles, cousins, family friends, people who pretend to be related to us even if we don’t share the same DNA—troop to our house and badger me, “So, when are you getting married?

I am not anti-marriage. If my parents weren’t married, I would not have existed—although I have a feeling they were doing the deed a few weeks before their wedding. Sorry, Ma.

But what is it about Filipinos and our culture that puts marriage on a pedestal, as if it’s the greatest achievement anybody can ever have?  And why is it that whenever somebody’s single, people think of that person as some sort of a freak, a weirdo, some circus attraction? Shouldn’t it be the other way around, considering we live in a world where very few marriages stay intact?

Can somebody please explain to me, ha?

The other day, I was telling my mom that my next homecoming might be around 2011, because I have plans of working in Singapore after I am, hopefully, done with school in 2010. I told her I plan to look for a job in Singapore, try to work my way up and maybe become a fashion editor of a magazine, because I honestly believe that I can’t make that happen here in Manila. The city’s social-climbing, status-seeking crowd will make it impossible for me.

My mom, that sweet, kid-loving, nagging lady, smiled at me and said, “Oh. I thought you were about to say you were getting married.”   

Curtis

After 13 weeks of intense studying (how intense it was, I can't even describe), I am finally done with school. It feels strange, not reading any of my notes. My friend N sums it aptly, "What do we do now?"

What I did was, I met up with a friend whom I haven't seen for months: Curtis. She and I met around 4 years ago, at work. While it took as quite some time to polish our writing, she was already writing a storm as soon as she set foot in the office. Not a single soul doubts her talent.

Curtis went to a bar and forgot to wear her shorts.

She also has an amazing knowledge of The Beatles, and their music. Never make the mistake of asking Curtis about The Beatles, or else you'll be forced to listen to her--for hours-- mouthing off every Beatles trivia she knows. I've learned a lot about The Beatles and rock music from her. In a way, I think I owe my current musical taste to this irreverent soul.

I think the best things that I learned from her though is that you have to learn how to be tough and how to face  your problems squarely, right on its face, without blinking. I thought that there were times when I was treated unfairly, but Curtis had it worse, and she handled her problems as best as she could. I'm a pretty tough kid, but I look like a wimp next to her.

Merry Christmas, Curt. Here's my gift to you. Enjoy!

Censorship Dinner

After being postponed, we finally had dinner with Cherian and Prof. Ang!

These professors were our teachers in our Censorship class, the module which has proven to be one of the most challenging during the semester. There were so many stuff to read, the paper was really tough to write... but everything paid off in the end. The class was intellectually-challenging and fulfilling, just the kind that I've always wanted to take.

Like a lot of things, my current interest in the issue of censorship was borne out of my years in YES! My editors were staunch anti-censorship activists, and I had the opportunity to write a couple of articles about censorship. Since then, I found the subject fascinating, which was the reason why I opted to stay in this class in spite of the long, scary list of readings.

Cherian and Prof. Ang made the class interesting and entertaining. These two guys are two of the most brilliant profs I've had, but they're so down-to-earth! Prof. Ang for example, is so open to listening to views that may be contrary to his. And he's so cool. His one-liners are the best, my favorite of which is, "Four floors of whores!"

Prof. Ang talking to LJ about a Shanghainese resto. Or at least that's what I heard. I asked Prof. Ang, "What's your weekend like?" Shaking his head, he said, "It's terrible! I wake up, I shower, I have breakfast, then I go for a walk. I have lunch. I take a nap. Then I have dinner. It's terrible."

I used to pooh-pooh Singapore's political issues. But Cherian's passion for teaching has made me somehow interested in the subject. He has this really interesting, funny way of discussing it, that even a foreigner like me soon found myself reading current affairs blogs to know more about the country that I've developed a lot of respect for.

Terrence (left) said, "Next semester is just going to be as shitty as this one." He turns to Cherian and asks, only half-jokingly, "Why do you have so many readings? Isn't one enough to prove your point?"

These guys are the best. I just wish I'll get a good grade from them. If that happens, I'll worship them until kingdom come.

After a month of studying for the exams and stress eating, here I am, with two of my favorite profs, Cherian George (center) and Ang Peng Hwa. I just wish I had enough time to put on makeup. Ugh. Oiliness is next to ugliness.

My Love Affair With White

After that exam that left me completely surprised (in a good way), I went off to Fair Price and Jurong Point (JP to us NTU students) to do some shopping.

Before I move on to important things, let me thank Terrence for unselfishly sharing us what he knows about statistics and numbers. Unfortunately--or fortunately--what he taught wasn't included in the exam. But still, I'm really grateful to this former banking and finance major for giving us some really much-needed tutorial. You know that guy in school who doesn't try hard but still aces his exams? That's the kind of dude Terrence is. While we mere mortals spend hours reading books, Terrence is the type who would enjoy the whole weekend chilling with his beloved daughter Kate and wonderful wife Dawn, but would walk in class, sit on an exam and get an A-- effortlessly. That's our dude, Major Terrence.

Anyway, as my usual practice, I rushed off to JP for some much-needed respite. I didn't want to stay behind and talk with the other students about the exam. What's done is done, and there's no way of changing it. Talking about the exam gets me antsy.

So I went to JP by myself-- I need some time alone-- and bought this really cute white top. I saw it last week when I went there to chill after an exam, and I liked it. But the cost, SGD 32, was a little turn off for me, a cheapskate, and I decided not to buy it.

But no! Days after, I'm still thinking about the top. And since it has been bothering me for a couple of days, I decided to get it. So here it is, all wrinkled and just out of the washing machine. I know it doesn't look that good in the picture, but it looks good when I wear it (hahahaha!). It shows off my curves (ahahahaha!). 

It's also available in black, but I've always liked white tops. I like how they can make you look sexy and decent (ahahaha!), and how it makes you feel cooler in the tropical climate. I first fell in love with white during my Summit stint, when I noticed that our good-looking art director would wear a white shirt everyday. And for some reason, that summer in good old Manila was really, terribly, hot. And it didn't help that our aircon in the Robinsons office was malfunctioning, dying in the middle of the afternoon, sputtering like an old motorboat before it would finally fall silent, making the whole office unbearably warm, and setting off my boss's blood pressure. Well, there were other reasons why her blood pressure went up. But that's another story. Ahahaha! 

Anyway, because of the heat, I decided to wear white more often. And maybe, out of habit, I now always buy stuff in white, whether in the middle of summer or, in this case, in spite Singapore's cool December breeze.

I'll wear this top on Thursday during our censorship dinner and our after sem party at Brewerkz. I'll blog about those parties later, but now, give me the space and time to swoon over my white top. :)

Now, if I can only iron those wrinkles away, everything would be perfect.

Ugly Me

There is something about studying content analyses, ANOVAS, and t-tests that spurs me to write. So here I am, blogging, again. 


I read something from one of my favorite blogs, www.nyminutenow.com, that reminded me of my childhood. See, the writer posted an old pic of hers when she was a kid. She looks great, really cute--  a far cry from what I looked like when I was a kid.


I wasn't the most good-looking girl back in then. Growing up in a country where people think fair skin and straight hair rule, people labelled me as ugly. I was fat, dark, and had curly hair. It didn't help that I had a bad case of zits which lasted for years.


What made it worse though was that I was surrounded by girls--whom I consider my friends by the way-- who would constantly pick on what I looked like and what I wore, almost every damn day. I got comments about my hair, my boobs, the fact that I wore heels to school, and even the blackheads on my nose. And mom, since I know you keep tabs on my whereabouts and thoughts, I want you to know that there were also boys who made fun of me, constantly. Remember that there was a time when I wanted to transfer to another school? That was my reason.


And for several years, I tried to conform to the standard of beauty that everybody has: I tried to straighten my hair (never mind if I damaged it in the process), and bought bottles of whitening products and pills. I wasted my money on things that weren't so worth it.


If I were an American, I would have been going to a shrink now. But I'm glad I'm not. And I'm glad that one night, I talked to Ianne Evangelista.


Ianne used to be an editor of Cosmo Philippines. We're not really friends, but one night, when I was feeling a little uncomfortable with my new pixie hairdo and on my way to a party (I hated my curls so much I cut them all off!) , I passed by her cubicle. Out of the blue, she called out to me, "I love your hair."


A little dumbfounded, I said, "Really? People don't like it."


"I used to have that sort of hair. I even had it shorter. Look." She then showed me her ID, and there it was, she in a super sort hair do. "I like your hair. And besides, in the middle of summer. It's hot, no!"


That night, she gave me a couple of tips on how to rock that hairdo. And if my memory serves me right, she told me that I have such a nice complexion, and the kind of makeup that should go with it. 


There is something about a beautiful girl complimenting you that makes you feel better. After that short chat, I felt more comfortable, and a little more prouder of the color of my skin. Sure, I still have a few insecurities, but I have stopped wanting to change the color of my skin. Hello, I have a boxful of whitening products--giveaways from a party--in my bedroom in the Philippines, untouched until this day. I think they expired a year ago. :)


In my years in Summit, I noticed that it's the pretty girls who are generous in their praise in how you look, and  if they don't like the way you dress up, they just keep quiet, unless you ask for their opinion. The average looking girls have a tendency to pick on everything. Strange. 


I now understand that what made me look ugly back then was that, judging by the pictures, I felt really pissed-- of being surrounded by girls (and boys) who would pick on me. It wasn't because of my color, or my hair. I was ugly because I was pissed. Big time!


By the way, I kept that short hairdo for two years, to the irritation of my parents, who wanted me to have long hair. When I got tired of it, I grew out my hair. The Shirley Temple curls are now in full display. But I kinda miss it now. Maybe I should cut my hair again. :)
  

Writing

Recently, I got an e-mail from a professor about a project. It was terribly long. You can tell that the man, a handsome brilliant fellow whom I respect and admire, has no life and has too much time on his hands. Hidden within the clutter was this: "You're a good writer. Promise you are not going to waste your talent."

If there is one thing I have committed myself to, it's writing. I've had several phases in my life, times when I was completely obsessed over something, only for my interest to pass suddenly and without warning. Writing though has become the one single passion I have had for the past 10 years.

Make no mistake though: it is a love-hate affair. I love it when I think I'm doing good (like when I got that comment) and I hate it when the words refuse to make it on the blank page. But difficult as my relationship with her is, I think writing and I, were bound for life. Friends come and go, I jump from one job to another, but my relationship with the written word will continue for years.

A lot of writers would understand that when things become confusing, writing can be your best friend. Writing has always been my salvation-- I need it when I feel tired, when I need to put things into perspective. Some people cope by drinking, partying all night, or just eating. For me, I write. Okay, I eat as well.

Whatever happens, I will always write. For myself. There is no need to make promises.I cannot imagine life without it.

Sir Pete

So here I am, blogging again. There is something about reviewing for the finals that makes me want to write. I guess it's the tediousness of reading all those slides and handouts. Whew!

I promised myself that I'd write about better things, so for this one, I'd like to write about Pete Lacaba, my mentor, former copy editor, and, I'd like to believe, a friend. I first met Sir Pete as a student in UP. Back then, I wanted to be a screenwriter, which was why I signed up for his class. I'm sorry to say that while Sir is one of the best poets in the country (and that's according to another brilliant poet, Jose Wendell Capili), he's not exactly the best "classroom teacher." I love you, Sir! Peace!

I only got to learn a lot from Sir when I worked in YES! He's not the preachy, this-is-how-you-should-do-it type. He teaches by example, by asking really tough questions, and also by patiently answering the most inane questions. He never once made us feel small, he who is practically a giant in the Philippine literary scene.

In spite of his achievements, he's one of the most-to-earth fellows I've ever met. Once, I received a call from a journalist from GMA-7, asking me for Sir's complete name. I was simply flabbergasted. Here was this girl, a journalist from a respected organization, not knowing who Jose Lacaba is. Pissed, I slammed the phone right after I testily answered her question, and went up to Pete.

"Sir," I told him. "This girl, she's a journalist, but she doesn't even know your name!"

Pete saved whatever crap he was editing (we're mediocre writers, sorry), looked at me, and said, "Why? Does she have to?"

For a couple of seconds my mouth was just wide open. When I recovered, I said, "But she's a journalist. She should know. And you're effing Pete Lacaba, for crying out loud!"

Pete just looked at me for several seconds. Without a word, he just went back to work.

And that, is why I adore Pete. He taught me how to write. He also taught me that a man can be so good at his art and his profession and yet remain still so regular. It's no wonder that whenever he'd arrive in the office, all of us girls would give him the best hello's we can muster, in spite the exhaustion we sometimes feel. Because honestly, we worship the ground this man walks on.

Christmas Wish List

It's still November but I can't help but think about the things I want for Christmas. Here's my list, as of today:

1. To graduate. The exams have left me really exhausted, and I have this nagging feeling that all the hard work I did at the start has all come to naught. I used to want to graduate with really excellent grades, but at this point, I just want them to be good enough for me not to lose my scholarship.

2. To make it big in this town. I wanted to go back to Summit. Badly. Summit is home, and the people I met there continue to be my friends, and in a lot of ways, they're also my family. We've laughed, feuded, and sexually-harassed each other that we formed a really great bond that I can't imagine having with other people. But after being here for just a couple of months, I now want to give the magazine industry here a shot. I like how people are extremely nice here, how I don't have to worry when I walk on the streets at night, and that I don't feel sorry for myself whenever I'd commute. Also, I want my professors here to be proud of me.

3. To improve my writing. My ang moh prof praises my writing to high heavens, but the thing is, I still am not satisfied with how I write. There's still a lot of room for improvement. Now if I can only write constantly, and read constantly, my writing will be better.

4. To blog about happier things. I noticed that I only write when I'm homesick or if something horrendous happens in the Philippines. But then, there's really nothing exciting or remotely interesting about school. The prof I'm crushing on? Nah, not that. The countless projects and readings? Nah. School is school. Nothing exciting to talk about.

5. To move to an apartment with a clean kitchen. I don't want to elaborate. But if you see our kitchen, you'll be speechless.

6. A better Philippines and a better life for Filipinos. Nobody deserves all what we've been through this year. I'd like to believe that in spite of what happened in Maguindanao, the high crime rate, and the hostility I experience inside our cramped MRT, most Pinoys are good people and we ought to have a life of dignity.

7. I don't know if I want a relationship. I don't want to say I do, because you know what they say about being careful about what you wish for. But it would be nice to have something to look forward to.

:)

Oh, boy.

What the hell is happening in our country?

Reading the accounts of the recent massacre in Maguindanao makes me cringe. Sitting here in my safe and unbearably quiet apartment, I cannot fathom how such a thing has happened in my country. I imagine that these things are possible in place like Rwanda, but the Philippines? Yes, Mindanao has had a long tumultuous history. But this? Oh, God.

Or maybe I'm just being naive about all of this. Growing up in my hometown, the worst we had to deal with was when we can't connect to the internet. And while my UP education has taught me that poverty is widespread in the country, it has never really truly taught me that the Philippines--supposedly the home of gentle, smiling people-- is the home of men who would do slaughter the innocent, like mere animals, all in the name of power and politics.

I read from history books that Manuel L. Quezon said, "I would rather have a country run like hell by Filipinos than a country run like heaven by the Americans."

The man got his wish.

Tired

The past couple of days has been one heck of a ride. There was the exam that almost killed us, then something happened which I couldn't forget. December 3 is the last day of exams, but it still seems like a long way from now.

It's becoming a little colder these days. Christmas is just around the corner. Unlike home though, Christmas is not a big thing here. It's just a one-day affair. I can just imagine the lights on Manila's streets, and the happiness-- however fleeting-- everybody feels.

I can imagine old co-workers rehearsing for the annual Christmas party; my mom playing Christmas carols every morning, to the irritation of my father; the relentless shopping for gifts in the crowded malls; the traffic that brings out the worst in all of us; and for the commuters among us, who cry highway robbery every time we pay the city's a-hole cab drivers.

Christmas. So near and yet so far.

Old Folks

I’m beginning to like Singapore. In spite of all the shit I read on Temasek Review, I think the government takes care of its citizens. Sometimes, it can get a little blah, especially if you’re used to the hustle and bustle of Manila. Life on campus is quiet—you can, literally, hear a pin drop. The headlines in the newspapers are not newsworthy at all (I don’t understand why it’s a big deal that a boy will sell a dog he adopted), but I guess that’s just the Filipino in me—always looking for the next big scandal and expose.

Singapore’s good. Everything’s organized and people generally lead a good life. Except for the elderly.

I noticed that many cleaners are really old folks. The taxi driver who brought me to Changi at 4AM seemed like 60 years old. The McDo crew are old as well. My Singaporean friend N assured me that these people are working just so they can be independent of their kids. But still....

This guy cleans our apartment. I see him working, even during the sweltering afternoons. After work, he brings a monobloc chair on our second floor to just chill, take a nap, or just stare into space. Uncle, the space cadet.

Shifting Loyalties

I was really excited about going home. Really, I was. I’m proud to be who I am and where I came from. I’ve always talked about the Philippines with my classmates, about how, in spite of being the Third World hell hole it is, it’s the home of smart, artistic, and funny people. I looked forward to going home the minute I stepped on Singaporean soil. But when I did go home, I wished I didn’t instead.

Manila is a mess. The poverty I used to ignore gnawed at my insides. I use to not give a flying fuck about Filipinos obsessed with material possessions—the latest It bag, the perfect furniture, the hundred dollar heels. Now, they make me want to hurl many times over. In a country where more than half the population lives in poverty, I don’t understand why people have the gall to talk about their possessions. The Sunday showbiz talk shows—which used to be a staple of my weekends—seemed inane, petty, and a complete waste of air time. The tambays are an eyesore. And the skinny, naked kids these guys have produced makes my heart break.

My four and a half years at UP were spent in massive indoctrination—about how the government neglects us, and how poverty eats at our core. Back then, I didn’t care. My belief was, the country was good to me and my family, and I should be grateful for the opportunities it has given us. To say that, though, smacks of selfishness. It’s ironic that it was a foreign school that changed my beliefs, when the activists of UP have spent years shouting slogans to my face, but to no avail.

I dream about going back to Summit. I wanted to go back to the people whom I regard as my friends and family. I still do. I still feel envious when I see the gang’s party pics on Facebook. But the typhoon’s aftermath, and the recent news about Baguio, has left me feeling iffy.

After one week of Manila, I went back to Singapore a few hours before my class. I usually take the train from Changi, but this time, I decided to take the taxi instead. As we drive by the port and the Flier, I was very relieved. I’m glad to have another country. The other one has become a burden.

What a Homecoming

I arrived in Manila last September 26, wanting to spend my bday with my office drinking buddies. What I realized though was this was not going to be a typical birthday– there was a storm raging across Manila, and it was something the city has not seen before. Usually, it takes me about 2 hours to go to my place from the airport. This time, it took me and my mom 30 hours.

The next day, I realized just how bad the extent of the damage was. Half of Manila was submerged. Nobody was spared: rich, poor, people who lived in shanties, those who lived in mansions. Cars were submerged. Lives were lost. My cousin’s house is gone. “Everything is gone,” she told me. With a smirk, she said, “Even my neighbors’ BMW.” My friend’s house, which her parents built after years of hard work, was partially submerged, along with their three cars. Poor people have been evacuated, and are now begging in the streets.

One thing that we all re-learned is that possessions mean nothing. They do not define us, nor should be the end all and be all of our existence.

Manila will move on. It’s a city of survivors.