I have been a lot busy lately.
Anyway, one realization/affirmation that has been tickling me all kinds of pink is the fact that my breasts are nice...
And unlike other women, they're generally the same size... I won't ever have to have a gown made where one breast would require an extra pad.
And they're generally in front, and perky still (am turning 28 na) to always suggest a cleavage, even if am not wearing a bra.
As opposed to some women who may have larger breasts than I ever will, but whose breasts always hope to rejoin their armpits once freed from the trappings of a brassiere.
Oooohh, I sometimes can't wait to be pregnant or lactating... because I swear, no matter how rhino-like in size i'd be, i'd be strutting around in tube tops!!!
hail to my wonderful, beautiful, non-droopy breasts!!! may they continue to defy gravity just a little bit longer!
I have been a lot busy lately.
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TWENTY YEARS AGO I'd have been 7 years old, turning 8. I was still studying at Regis Grace Montessori, still fighting with Joseph, still crushing on Al Rashid Timbayan and best friends with Louise Bell Tecson.
I haven't started keeping a diary then... and we're still living in Bicutan, and there are these parks that allow kids to play merrily until their parents/yayas shout at them to go home.
My school jeep's conductor is Eloy, and we used to tease him to my cousin. :)
FIFTEEN YEARS AGO I'd have been in first year HS by then... I-9 and still hanging out with the Jerks Troop. I think am seatmates with Jhing, and Bench stationery was the fad, and it's 3 months before I lose my beloved Grandma.
I've already discovered Sweet Dreams pocketbooks by this time... and Pam has introduced P.S. I Love you to me already... and a girl in my batch has already been possessed by some white lady. I was also 5 months away from having this humongous crush on a Francis Oliver Labonete (heaven help me, am posting all these names, hopefully they're all still cute and nice) and several months away from buying my first album.
Yes, it's the Humanap Ka ng Panget album :) And my diary then is filled with stories of games I still play with the neighborhood kids, and stories of all these guys interesting me... or interested in me.
TEN YEARS AGO Arrgh, 1995 was the year I turned 18. August 1995 would mean am already hanging out with ABWB, and Patti's still with us. Not sure if Allee and I have already discovered Intramuros by then... am several months away from meeting my first real love, and joining the NGO i'd be serving for years.
I've already been friends with Icel then for 4 years... and my first boyfriend has already impregnated the girl he two-timed me with.
I've also moved on to Stephen King by this time, and yes, my academic life was a breeze.
FIVE YEARS AGO 2000 -- the year after my annus horribilis... the year I'd also be so self-destructuctive, it's a wonder I met JRA. But by this time, i've also already broken up with him, and was adiktus to Pinoyexchange.Com :)
I'm hanging out with friends at Blazing cafe near TUP, and playing HalfLife (?) and Counterstrike with them. I was also addicted to chatting, and J***m was still in love with me.
I was still taking masteral units by then, bored with some of my profs. And i'd say this was the time I began to really be friends with Tere and Bheng, something that couldn't happen back in college.
THREE YEARS AGO 2002... I was in this weird relationship with JRA, we're not going steady but he continues to be part of my life. I was also very much in Love with Anche then.
Other than that, I've already been to Boracay by this time... and has already starting exploring the wonders Philippines has to offer.
LAST YEAR I was stil a psychological wreck...but with more urge to really tweak the direction I've been on. I think August was the month I first climbed a mountain in Baguio.
I also got proposed to, and the perfection of the proposal couldn't help but result to a YES.
THIS YEAR Parents migrated :( But will also get married so sige lang :) Pero... move out of the house din!
NEXT YEAR Sky dive, bungee jump, parasail and white water raft! Basta, enjoy life all the more with someone who I love more than life itself. :)
TEN YEARS FROM NOW Planning my 10th Wedding anniversary, and panicking over how i'd fit into the same gown for Renewal of Vows :D
Also, a harassed but happy mother of 3, and still a very bewitching wife to my hubby.
WHO I WISHED WOULD TAKE THESE QUESTIONS: in case they have time and energy - Jeanny, Pazette, Tito Rolly and Mari.
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My cousin was telling another cousin of mine how she used to be class secretary all her elementary and high school days... with her classmates still sending with her their notebooks for her to copy notes for them. But she loved it! One, it's mostly the guys she has some minor crush on that would ask her for this favor, another is that she gets free meryenda as bribe, and the real reason: she just loves to write.
As in really love to write, even if she's writing down the same notes (or 'lectures') notebook after notebook, even trying to experiment on her handwriting in an attempt to fool teachers when they check the students' notebooks.
Which made me remember how I used to have classmates who can fill blackboard upon blackboard with notes, and we'd still have to beg her not to erase a board yet because we seldom caught up with her! Imagine writing on a board for entire periods! Heck, just the idea of chalk flying makes me want to gag (and it usually did during my short teaching stint).
Wherever you guys are, Kathryn and Roma, I salute you!
My sister was at the computer till past 3 am, doing her part in their group project. She used to suffer so from one classmate who made it her life's purpose not to contribute. Well, my sister is kind.
During my day, my classmates always knew that in group projects, even if I seldom accepted the leader role, I still expected everyone to contribute. Or else, their name/s won't appear on that cover page. My sense of justice has always been strong, even in childhood... that I even remove a classmate's seat if she didn't help out when it's our row's turn to clean classrooms. Teachers are usually left without a choice but to punish a classmate because i've made it sure the irresponsibility is made known to everyone. Yes, I was that confrontational sometimes.
And no, I wasn't a bully. I didn't make classmates clean for me, or do things for me (except draw probably, and I didn't have to bully people to do that!). I just absolutely abhorred free riders (?).
Di ba nga, I even convinced 4 other girls back in Grade 1 to join me and gang up on Joseph, this particularly naughty, bad kid... and the teacher then was stupefied with my defiance when asked why beat up a kid. And yes, we were all in Grade 1 then, and that boy never gave us girls trouble again (I actually cannot remember anymore what he used to do, but am sure it was nasty to elicit such violence from me, bwahaha).
And yes, am one of those who'd really rather work alone because I just hate having to ask people to give equally, if not in brains, at least in effort. And when college came, the 2 slackers in my barkada knew well enough not to ask me to pick up their slack... so we essentially got good grades together because the 3 of us kept them on their toes. And my wonderful professor, Dr. Mancao, was wise enough to know that in group projects, not everyone really give equally, so after the group oral defense, she'd also ask us questions individually so she could grade us separately. (ohhh.. i love that prof, she gave the most wonderful exam I ever took in my life... gave us ten scenarios a week in advance, asked us to think of at least 2 personality theories at play for each scenario... then she talked to us one-on-one to ask us to defend her 2 chosen scenarios... nobody knew which one she'd pick to have explained and it was a challenge convincing her, i loved it!!!)
So, anyway, I never really had a problem with group projects.
But I had this enabling thing that was bad.
I loved writing book reports.
I used to write book reports and novels for neighbors, my cousins, their friends and their girlfriends. It was such a thrill for it was like meeting a new friend! That was how I met Sidney Sheldon, Stephen King, Judth Viorst and other inspirational writers. And my friends would even ask me to write the report as simply as possible and not include high-falutin' words so that their teachers won't suspect anything amiss.
let me end this post with this really nice inspirational thing I got from an e-mail:
QUALITY OF LIFE
A group of working adults got together to visit their former university professor. The professor was pleased to see them, and after the students' chats about the old days and reminiscing were over, their conversation turned into complaints about their stresses in work and life.
The professor said nothing, he just smiled and went in his kitchen and brought back an assortment of cups on a tray - some were fine porcelain, some plastic, some glass, some plain-looking and some rather expensive and exquisite. He then asked if his former students were thirsty, and offered them the cups to get iced water for themselves.
When each student had a cup in hand, filled with iced water, the professor spoke: "If you noticed, all the nice-looking, expensive cups have been taken, leaving behind the plain and cheap ordinary ones on the tray. While it is usual that you will only want the best for yourselves, that is the main source of your problems and stress... What all you really wanted was water, not the cup - but you unconsciously went for the better looking cups."
A silence followed, as the students digested this. The professor continued, "This is just like in life....If Life is water, then your jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are merely tools to hold and maintain life, but they will hardly change the intrinsic quality of Life. If we focus only on the cup, then we won't have time to taste and enjoy the water in it!"
"And also remember this: A RICH person is one who has a lot, while a HAPPY person is one who does not want a lot....The choice of which type of person you want to be is your own."
And the students thus got their most important lesson in life from their wise old teacher.
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when you lose control
and you have no soul
It was only last night that I learned part of that song's lyrics. For the most part of my adult life, I only know when to belt out the word TRAGEDY, and that's it.
I lost control. Or rather, I gave up control.
In the process, did I manage to sell my soul to the devil?
I know i'd always be more than my faults and my self-destructive tendencies. But I also know that scars, even emotional ones, will be lasting reminders of where and how hard i've fallen.
And I guess, I have to live with all that. And my family will have to live with that. And everybody else who makes the choice to love me will have to live with all that.
I was brave last night. I don't feel clean but the bravery cleansed me. And no, am not talking about really dark secrets only now disclosed, although they're hideous and hurtful just the same. It's not even what i've kept secret that really matters... but how much keeping them has affected my life.
Another fave quote from TOUCHED BY AN ANGEL, I believe, goes something like this:
Secrets are a funny thing. The more you try to protect them, the more you have to pretend that you have them to hide. And the more you have to keep people away lest they discover them.
It took last night for me to start forgiving myself for being an 18-year old once. Whew!
Buti na lang some quote also goes like this:
If you love something enough, its secret will be known to you.
And JRA loves me more than enough.
Anche (wherever you are), once upon a time, when I was wondering out loud if I was able to save the best of me for my future husband, you told me to stop wondering but to actually save the best of me. You reminded me that it's something you do, not something that just happens.
And i'm glad to say, i've saved the best of MEc.
The trials do not end here. But the tragedy does.
Pyro has this toy convertible car. With him being very talkative, we usually find ourselves asking him questions and stuff, to which he spins tales. So 'Te Gang asked him who's riding his toy car, he immediately replied, "Papa, Mama, ikaw, Ninang, Tita Mec."
'Te Gang asked again, "Eh ikaw?"
Pyro replied, "Wala. Hindi Kasya."
Back to tragedy, here's a link to an old, disturbing, tragic news.
In my quest for better health, I made a new friend.
Happy weekend guys!
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i've always loved that TV series... until their schedule got jumbled and conflicted with the TV programs liked by the other members of the household. Too bad, Roma Downey (?) also went through a bad divorce.
That was where I first encountered Maya Angelou, and fell in love with a poem she wrote, the episode then was about someone dying from AIDS, that someone being estranged from his family or something...
the poem goes:
Touched By An Angel
By Maya Angelou
We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.
We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.
Despite my Psych degree, i'm always left amazed at established patterns people live... and how grace always plays a bigger part in one's life. And how courage determines whether one's life will end on a period or an exclamation point.
Well, I need to be brave tonight, more than ever. I have everything to lose, and everything to gain. What a weird place to find oneself in...
The die is cast. I'm just trying to console myself that, in case I end up losing everything, I could start again with nothing, and much wiser now.
And just like my favorite line from the TV series goes:
"Nobody said it's going to be easy, but it's going to be worthwhile."
For what it's worth, at least I can say, I TRULY LOVED, THEREFORE, I WAS BRAVE.
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raped, beaten up and left for dead in some damp place... but I looked like it when my sis and JRA took pictures of me with my very puffed eyes (so swollen I couldn't see for a time).
Honestly, I looked like a corpse on the verge of rotting, not unlike some of those creepy news pictures we see of criminals or murder victims on some cold slab at the morgue...
All because I ingested a medicine I was hypersensitive to...
Which ruined a very good Hizon's dinner.
And which resulted to me missing the conference I painstakingly organized (actually, I only missed the 1st day... yesterday saw me attend the conference wearing shades... and I missed the port tour today because I set my alarm clock at the wrong time).
Worse, I was headstrong enough not to land myself in the ER last Sunday, despite the allergy making me cough due to itchy/constricted-feeling throat...
But had to spend 3 hours in the ER just the same last Monday... because Claritin alone couldn't bring back my face/eyes to the way it's supposed to be.
And lest anyone decides to kill me with the OTC medicine, I deem it wise not to name it here...
But heaven help me, i'd really have to create a profile of things am allergic to.
On a sadder note... and weirdly enough, nothing makes you feel as helpless as knowing you've hurt the one who loves you the most... because you were selfish and stupid and acted as though you're above the usual laws on loving...
And though I don't deserve this chance, I'm really hoping that our love is greater than all our faults (past, present and future).
My boss, to make me feel better, hs been feeding me chunky choco chips all morning.
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i think it's been two weeks since i last saw the sun shine.
not that i see much of the sun actually, being at work most days of the week... and just languishing in the comforts of my bed on weekends.
still, it seems the sun hasn't shone for a straight two weeks now.
and being on leave tom, i stayed behind to tidy up some loose ends and compose my 'love letters' to my colleagues (tasks they should do because i'd be away tom)...
and now, i can't get out of the office
make that, the building
the rain is bad enough... but the wind (and thw windchill factor) is quadrupled when you;re near the bay area... i tried to brave the weather but alas... it seemed i'd be catapulted to the office parking lot... and my feet are sliding of the sandals am wearing, making things more complicated
and now, am sporting a headache from having been so thoroughly wet and ravaged
and not in the kinky ways i would have liked
how to go home... ?
what's worse... my nerves froze some with the sudden cold/wetness (?) because i got my back, neck and head massaged during lunch hour.
wonder if my neon yellow bag is dry now
happiness though... i smelled the smell that makes me actually fall in love/lust with myself again... yesterday... the last time i remember smelling like that was 2 years ago... when the closest description that comes to mind is "amoy pinipig" even though i don't really smell like pop rice
now am thinking of changing in my shorts and trek shoes... but how do i go home looking sporty, and carrying a very girly-lady tote? i wish i have a knapsack here with me... so i can do a to-hell-with-the-rain thing and just get as wet as it would have me...
am so preoccupied with so many things (heck, am actually being productive at work!) that the rain hasn't had its usual effect on me *ehem*
ate caramel cake last night. and today. i wonder why caramel has even rid me of my obssession with WC... it's just always caramel cake or caramel sundae...
bwahahaha... yes, am still trying to lose weight
or at least, allow me to go home naman
am hella hungry na!
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or so the joke usually goes.
Anyway, I was chagrined by a program I was watching over the weekend (forgot what) which featured Pinoy child geniuses.
They did an interview of Shaira... the girl who would be the youngest doctor/surgeon. I think there was nothing heard of her for some 10 years.
Anyway, she's a lot thinner now, and sporting a tongue ring.
She talked about the pressure she had to take, with everybody gunning for her to achieve a lot of remarkable accomplishments in the field of medicine... and how, she was already failing subjects in her second year in college... and how, she eventually had to stop going to school altogether.
She's now found her happiness in photography.
And though I do not begrudge her the choice, and the happiness, I have to admit I was really dismayed.
Few are gifted enough to be given opportunities us regular people can only dream of (ah, reminiscent of Good Will Hunting eh?)...
And what if, that brilliance could really MOVE and SHAKE the world? Could result to high-impact changes?
It wasn't discussed if she was any great at photography... and I've the mind to think that she may have chosen that field because she's not naturally great at it... something challenging and well, subjective, to sink her teeth into, so to speak.
And I cannot help but blame the system and the scenario, which may have led to her totally veering away from something she'd be truly great in. You know how it is, when something's been continually shoved down your throat, you just can't help but gag and be traumatized...
I guess this is a selfish thought... but like what I said, I don't begrudge her the happiness... which is evident in her eyes, in her smile.
For i'd always go back to that BH90210 scene where Brandon asked his Mom if she was ever approached to have Brandon become a professional athlete...
To which his Mom replied:
I asked myself, do I want a star, or do I want a son... I chose to have a son.
See... not to pull my future kids back... but i'd also want them to be HAPPY.
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Something is threatening to consume me with hate and all kinds of pain as of the moment. BUT... JRA has proved more than his weight in gold when it comes to making me feel better.
I just hope Pyro doesn't ask for cake tonight... the imp has taken such a liking to cake, he's made it his life's purpose to tail me and ask for some!
Then again, how many times has cake or ice cream saved my sanity from suffering a thorough meltdown?
It's so hard having poor relatives... esply if part of the reason they're poor is because they did not maximixe the opprotunities given to them...like sponsored education.
And the hardworking, responsible ones get saddled with the task of cleaning up after their mess, shelling out savings, paying for their medical bills, taking them in, etc.
And one could not help but lament the unfairness of it all... being called selfish and unhelpful the moment you refuse to give help/cannot give assistance. That, after many times of having quietly extended a helping hand... with nary a Thanks or reference to previous debts owed you and kind deeds you've made.
I wonder how many parents play favorites.
And I wonder how many parents have as warped an idea of teaching a child to survive as my Mom (with regards to my brother) and my aunt (with regards to my cousin), both of whom seem to act as if they only have one child... everything else is token affection.
Maybe am being harsh. It might kill my mother too if something bad happens to me. But maybe that's it... maybe because I haven't been a jerk enough to have bad things happen to me that's why it also hasn't occurred to her to be nicer to me. Or to just be nice equally among her kids.
I wonder too, if not running after her as kids are wont to do when they first start attending school, made her believe I needed less emotionally from her.
My boss says, you usually have a favorite. She has 4 kids. She also said, parents shouldn't make it known who's the favorite... and speaking with only a child's perspective... I cannot quite fully verbalize the gravity of pain and resentment I feel that a person who has done more harm than good continue to be the favored child.
There's just something wrong about not giving the rewards where it's due.
And something more wrong about enabling a child to grow into a spineless adult, capable only of withdrawing from his wife and mother's bank accounts without knowing how to handle expenses, or hold a job of his own.
Basta, there's something drastically wrong there...
Me, after my hair cut. I think the electric fan made my face look a little interesting... I couldn't quite effect THE RING thing, and I was particularly happy when I took this... so there!
I love yellow :)
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for just askin' (hope this helps)
I am one of those people who really believe that pre-marital sex is more a lifestyle choice. Of course, I am quick to discourage engaging in it when you're still in your teens. And of course, I am encouraging everyone to be responsible and use protection.
But what really saddens me nowadays (let us not tackle 13-year olds becoming parents or suffering from STDs ok?) concerning pre-marital sex is that... there are women out there, who either have not yet formed any clear stand on whether they want to engage in it or not OR who actually want to preserve themselves for marriage, but are engaging in it anyway... TO KEEP THEIR MAN.
Sure, it's sad to be a girl left by a boyfriend because you were not yet ready for him to stick something up any hole you got...
But it's really quite sadder to compromise your beliefs, your values, yourself... any man (or partner for that matter) who will ask such a compromise from you doesn't really respect you.
And what is the point of making love to someone who doesn't respect you in the first place?
And usually, sure enough, what happens when this guy has found someone else more than willing to spread her legs and to offer more holes to ecstasy than you're prepared to give?
What happens when he's left you?
You grieve, of course.
Mourn for the innocence that accompanied the faith...that led you to open more than your heart for him.
Mourn for the love that you counted on.
Mourn for the sweet moments being with him brought you.
Mourn for something you'll never be again. A virgin.
And then learn your lessons.
It doesn't matter whether you engage in pre-marital sex again or not. It doesn't matter if you engage in sex ever again. But it matters that you learn your lessons and continue believing you're whole still.
See, most girls, having compromised themselves once, start believing they're damaged goods. And so they compromise themselves again and again, over and over.
And the cycle seldom stops...
And the pain just adds up.
I take no issue with women wanting to preserve their first times for their future husbands. But I do take issue with the belief that virginity is the best gift you can give your husbands. Or that chastity/celibacy is.
For you'd always have your skills and talents and quirks, your experiences and your humor and your sensuality, your courage and commitment, your indefatigability to work on a relationship, your capacity to love and care and nurture, your ability to respect yourself and other people's individuality, your capacity to adjust and bend and change...
Chalk that one to experience and let go. If you must, feel free to imagine you're a glass that was slightly scarred, or a car that's slightly scratched... the smears and stain and dents don't necessarily render you useless... in fact, they add character... they usually suggest a learning experience... :)
We're always more than one defining moment, always more than one of our experiences...
It's not going to be easy... but it's going to happen if you allow it to happen. Negative self-talk is a habit not easily given up... but you get to rid yourself of it in time.
And of course, next time a similar situation challenges you again... you cannot say you weren't forewarned, and ergo, isn't forearmed. You did what you thought was right. Let's hope that now, you know better.
Other posts i've made on loving and pain:
sad songs can have happy endings
on being a hopeful romantic
some past love
how letting go sometimes just happens
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In the midst of ecstasies brought about by JRA buying me 4 fat slices of Becky's Kitchen's caramel cake yesterday, and the challenge of eating for the first time in the newly-opened Duke of New York (?) Pizzeria at Rob... I also had to listen as JRA responds to a medical researcher's questions on organ transplant and donation.
The study is basically spearheaded by UP Manila and the National Kidney Institute (?) and financed by St. Luke's.
We were told later on that the main purpose of the study is to actually have a grasp of the Filipino's attitude towards organ transplant and donation.
She said, although it's quite unofficial, that it seems, most Pinoys would rather the organ donation be done with the donor already dead... and they prefer that the donation be done for immediate family and close relatives, not to strangers. Most actually do not exactly want to put a price on an organ, preferring that the beneficiary just voluntarily give something (like an educational plan to the kid of the man who donated something).
We're also not sure if the Catholic Church is against such practice... the way I think Mormons are. Not sure about the stand of other religions on the matter either.
Having discussed the matter earlier, JRA told the researcher of the good point I raised about organ donation... how, in the US, they check your pockets/wallet for a card authorizing donation...and how, here, you lose your wallet the moment you keel over.
The medical researcher told us of a story of a man who was crying during the interview. He gave up a kidney for the price of P150k, but the middle man only gave him P60k for it. Yes, middle men prey on the UNINFORMED marginalized sector of society... those who don't even know that their own lives have been compromised because of what they did.
And yet, more and more indigent Pinoys are making organ donation a means to survive. More and more illegal clinics are performing the operations. More and more of the sick rich (local and foreigners) are paying for organs and capitalizing on our poor.
If you're a man, donating blood every 3 months is ok. But it ceases to be ok if you're doing it for a living! There just has to be respect for one's body...
Thus, St. Luke's hopes to help indigents somehow.
And it is indeed alarming to know how many are walking around one kidney less just because they wanted some quick cash.
I'm reminded of that Maalaala Mo Kaya story where the father sold his kidney... and then had his daughter suffer from kidney problems. He couldn't donate anymore... and the girl's mother wanted to save her kidneys for her other kids (with another man).
And then, there was this man in our barrio who had kidney problems... his youngest daughter was a match, and was willing to offer her kidney up... but the father wouldn't have it. He didn't want his daughter's life compromised so young.
And then, there's that Cayetano case... heartbreaking how a son chose to give up a kidney for his father, who still died after the transplant.
I wouldn't mind being cut up here and there for possible stuff that could save a life, or improve the quality of life of someone... in the event that I die young... provided they stitch me up real nice for the coffin.
And I know I wouldn't mind donating something for any of my kids or siblings... or some child stranger.
I don't take issue with organ donation and transplant... it's genetic engineering, stem cell research and the like that I have some issues with.
Still, in the grand scheme of things, it really doesn't matter how long you've lived as much as whether you have truly lived and loved.
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