Books and roving clinic

When I picked up my toga from school today, I noticed the roving clinic parked right in the same spot where I first saw it. You see, if you're an incoming NTU student, you have to take your X-ray exam in this van. I wish I brought my crappy camera with me to give you an idea. Alas, my cheap Nokia doesn't even have a cam.

Anyway, my point is, when I saw the van it got me all nostalgic. It's been a year since I last saw it, and now, I'm two weeks away from convocation; in two days, I'm going back to working full time. I know I've been getting nostalgic and have been blogging about it several times. But please, indulge me, for that's just the way I really am.



Before I left school, I dropped off a couple of books in my prof's mailboxes. In spite of what has recently happened, I still believe in the goodness of people. Life is short; we should spend it showing the people we love how important they are to us.

CG and APH, I hope you enjoy those books as much as I did. You guys were the best.

A matter of time

My friend LJ is still jobhunting. We've been chatting on FB on and off for the past couple of months, and I can tell he's getting terribly frustrated.

Listen to the song, dude. Come to think of it, I should listen as well.



Nothing's permanent. The most intense emotions--anger, frustration-- are very fleeting. The fact that they're intense makes them such. What we're going through now, it will soon come to pass.

And it's back!

There was something I heard recently that really broke my heart. I read somewhere that we grow up believing that as we grow older, our circle of friends grows larger. The past couple of months, I saw some friendships destroyed. And I'm writing off another person tonight.

I'd like to pretend I'm okay. I thought I'll be okay after days of window shopping, mixing and matching clothes, and walking from one end of Orchard Road to another.I am not. It took one e-mail from my friend A and a chat with my former thesis partner M to make me realize that I'm not. I had a crying jag in front of my laptop; for several minutes I couldn't even type, and only M could do was wait until I could continue.

I feel betrayed. I actually thought this person was a friend. But friends don't rat on you. And if they do, well, that makes them a rat.

I missed this blog. This was a journal of the year I spent here in Singapore. I decided to open it because I don't give a fuck anymore.

From now on, I maintain, I do not know you. I am supremely disgusted with myself.

Life's a Beach

Spent Saturday at the beach with M, talking about random things, looking at a couple of white men trying to get a tan, stuffing ourselves with wedges and basically just bumming around. Wish I brought the camera with me. The beach wasn't as good as the one in Coron, Palawan, but it will do.


W said she didn't enjoy this semester as much as the first one. I love this sem. The classes weren't as interesting as they used to be, but this time I learned more about life, love, friends, music, and film. Made a couple of mistakes, especially in maintaining friendships, but I think I'll be fine. And she would be, too. 


It's just that I have a strange talent for shooting myself in the foot. I always end up being misinterpreted. I shot my foot again this morning. My god. But hey, at least I learned. My god. What a sem.


I used to regret not studying in Japan. But yesterday, staring at the water, I have no regrets at all.

Argh!

The past couple of nights, I’ve been sleepless, no thanks to my former colleague and friend C. She’s been on line night after night, pointing out how I have mishandled recent events which should have turned out really well.


The thing is, I thought I was doing the right thing. Ganyan naman lagi, e. Maayos intentions mo, pero ending, mali. Palpak! Bwahaha! Dyan ako magaling! Bwahaha!

What I kept telling C was that these things happened because they—my friends--weren’t around to guide me. They would have known how best to deal with it. They’re younger than me, by one or two years, but by life experience, they’re a decade older. I have nobody here to ask about the situation. Sure, I have M, but the perspective of the whole gang would have helped.

Next time, C, I’m gonna play the cards right. I promise. But I really can’t do everything you want me to, because you're right, I am a coward. I can't put myself out there as much as I should. In spite of my protestations, I like things easy, comfortable, predictable. Anything other than that sets my world out of axis. At hindi ako si you-know-who! Wala akong confidence nya, no!

I’ve completely messed things up. The only thing I can do now is to learn from this, ok? Now get off my case and stop making me feel like hell. :)

I'll see you on-line. And in spite of my misery, I know I'm won't be able to stop myself from mentioning the dreaded topic. This is all about me, and you can do nothing about it. Hahaha! At tigilan mo na yang efforts mo na pagselosin ako. Sasabunutan kita pag-uwi ko!

O, here's Rhett Miller. Para sa mga talunan. Hahahaha! But you know, you're quite sharp. You noticed something that we never did. I wish you didn't, because the what if's will never stop hounding me. But who knows, right? Who knows.

As my lunch buddy DJ said, "Malay mo, sa tatlong taon...." Hahaha! Batang to. Isa pang paasa! :)

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!

  

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.

Neighbours

One of the disadvantages of living in the West Coast is how distant it is from all the happening spots in the Lion City. It takes an hour by MRT to go to Orchard Road, and this would entail hopping from one train line to the other. And if you do that pretty often, chances are, you’d be topping up your NEXT card every other weekend.

Our usual hang out spot is Jurong Point, a mall the size of tRobinsons Galleria. The mall is just one bus ride away from NTU. Last weekend, driven by my yearning for pasta, I went there with my roommate Jeni, and our neighbours CS and Jun Feng (pronounced as Jin Fung).



Jeni and I

One of my worries about NTU is whether I’d get along well with my roommate. I initially wanted a single room, but the powers-that-be gave me a double. I’ve been independent for the longest time that I can’t imagine myself living with somebody, and a stranger at that. Jeni and I have been getting along tremendously so far. We spend enough time together to bond, but also spend enough time apart just to make sure we don’t get on each other’s nerves. So far, so good.



JF and CS

I met the boys when a pipe from our ceiling leaked. My Chinese housemate got a little panicky, and convinced me to go upstairs to inspect if our neighbours did something evil to result in a threat to flood our entire flat. That was how I got to meet CS, who introduced me to his flatmate, Jun Feng. The leak stopped miraculously the next day, and that was the last we talked about it. We still hang out with the boys, though, as a way to cure our boredom. What I like best about them are the stories they tell about their countries. And I think they find the stories I tell about the PI interesting, too. They were really surprised that the country has had two female presidents, has a vibrant arts scene, many love to read, the English I speak is considered mediocre by Pinoy standards, and that so many Pinoys speak and even think in English. The thing is, the PI is a Third World country populated by a lot (though not the majority) of extremely brilliant, artistic, and liberal people.




Bolognaise was how they spelled it in the menu. Bolognese is how we usually spell it in the PI.

About the pasta: it was a little bland, especially if you compare it to what I used to have in Chef d’ Angelo and Sbarro. But I had great company, which makes the $9 I had to fork out worth it.

Photos by Tan Chee Seng and moi

Deadma!

NTU is turning out to be far more demanding than I thought. I have 5 subjects this semester, which is pretty miniscule by UP/Philippine standards, but a killer by the standards of my current home. For each of the subjects, we would have to write a paper, in keeping with the tradition of NTU as a research university. This early, I’ve been planning how to write each paper/project, and have been trying to move heaven and earth to do the best that I can on each—which is really impossible.

And so, I decided to enlist the help of some friends. Many of them were very helpful, and are friends in the real sense of the word. Two though, are not. My messages to them were unanswered. I would have understood if I got the usual, lame, “I’m sorry but I can’t help you because I’m too busy taking care of my shit” excuse, but I didn’t even get any. And for that I’m really disappointed in these people. They suck big time. At one point or another, I have helped them in one way (especially the other one) and would have thought they would have at least the decency to send a reply. The other one though has been a disappointment since high school. I should have expected it, but I have turned into a Pollyanna lately that I forgot what kind of person she is. This may sound trivial to other people (especially to those who are currently working), but school is my world now, and by God, I will do my best to do well in it.

Oh, well. There are other ways of doing the paper. And there are other people who are willing to help. But I will never forget that I got the cold shoulder. In life, I avoid carrying anything heavy. Except, of course, if it’s a grudge. :)