I almost forgot about one particular email message I wrote and almost sent to my brother. You'd think it was from a lonely flunky who desperately wanted to get out of a subservient existence she's been in for quite some time. Thanks to boredom that lead to me scan through my "Draft" mails, I found it! And, for the sheer purpose of blogging, decided to include it in my list of utterly irrelevant posts.
I can't believe I'm back.
I guess a year of luxury in Japan - with all their automated contraptions and anime-like people - had me craving for the adrenaline-pumping research assignments and extra-curricular activities I so enjoyed. Yet now that my feet are once again touching Philippine soil, specifically, Dumaguete soil, I'm confused as to what I'm gonna do next.
I don't have any money, don't have any real friends save for a pitiful two which, I'm afraid, is narrowing down to one.
In the event that you receive an urgent notice telling you what to do with my lifeless body, please bear in mind not to freak out as prior to that, I'll be sending signs and showing hints of dying* without purpose.
*By "dying" I meant figuratively...
Verna always points out that something funny happens to one of her friends on Friday the 13th. As last year's T.G.I. Friday hook-up of my good friend Xander with an infamous girl called Em-Em (whatever happened to her anyway?) turned out to be one of the most shocking news we've heard, Friday the 13th and its usual creepiness now gets associated with surprising incidents of comedic proportion.
After Xand's "ordeal" I'd rather not hear Verna say something about one of her friends' fate as I am one of them and would definitely not want something funny and unexpected to happen to me, as in the case of poor Xandy.
"Kinsa napuy maka-uyab og di mao?" we often joke as the auspicious date approaches, and Verna and Ren are throwing mischievous looks at none other than moi. What the...am I now to be preyed on just because I'm the only person in the group who hasn't been in a relationship before? Verna and Ren are only acting like excited parents eager to take prom pictures of their daughter and her partner. I am the daughter but I can't quite make out who the partner is. And even those who have caught my attention before pale at the thought that there's is that someone looking for his life-long prom date.
Problem is, he doesn't even know I exist and vice versa. But if I ever consider getting married or at least having someone to call a boyfriend, it wouldn't be hard to find a decent Christ-centered man who would take me right? I mean, how hard is it to find a godly, gifted, and good-looking guy?
Seriously, I've got to stop fantasizing about perfect knights in shining armor, or even perfect peasants for that matter because nobody's perfect and I've got to accept that the world does not tolerate a faultless human being; that it wouldn't give me what it is that I longed for in a man.
But just in case our world gets twisted and every fantasy becomes a reality, I might as well make a list of the qualities I look for in the person I'd be in love with.
Physical Characteristics
1. I'm into charming sensible guy with a smile that knocks my socks off
2. I'm a sucker for dimples
3. I'm obsessed with long lashes, sexy nose without the big holes (hehe), and perfect teeth
4. I don't fare well with tattoos, piercing, and unkempt hair. (gotta be neat and organized dude)
5. I can do with someone who's at least 5'7 and 2-4 years older.
6. He's gotta have a healthy body
Traits and Personality
1. He loves God more than anything in this world
2. I'd court someone who's neat, tidy, and organized myself
3. He doesn't smoke, do drugs, and drink religiously
4. He's an intellectually stimulating, talented (can draw or write well… hehe), and well-rounded person
5. He's fluent in spoken and written English, and preferably any other language
6. He has an orgasmic sense of humor
7. He's proactive, disciplined, and mature
8. He's emotionally, spiritually, mentally, physically, and FINANCIALLY stable
9. He has a cool and loving family
10. He's gregarious, friendly, understanding, patient, loving, honest, loyal, hardworking, and God-fearing
11. He bonds well with my friends and family
12. He has eyes only for me
13. He loves and understands me - moody and grumpy or not.
14. Oh, and he cooks too
But it doesn't really matter, does it? When Love strikes, everything I see is flawless. Every imperfection that I've been avoiding becomes beautiful, and my wishlist becomes as valuable as trash.
When cupid aims, my heart is the focal point. It hurts yet I can do nothing to ease the pain but wait. I'm scared of being hurt, of loving and then leaving, of loving and then crying, or of loving and then regretting. I can't seem to settle in one place, let alone one person. I can't imagine myself being tied down to a limited scope of my life, exposing myself to all the pain and insecurities the world gladly harbors.
And if it means breaking free from Love that is yet to happen, I'm going solo. The risk is not worth the pain and it doesn't even justify the shame. I know how hard it is to love, how much more to be in love.
I musn't fall in love.
So even if a possible life-long prom date arrives and he loves me for who am, no buts, no ifs, no condition... and he understands my moods and is patient enough to put up with me... and at the end of the day he's reserved the sweetest hug that spells loyalty, and the umpteenth first kiss that promises devotion...and he's as silly as he's opinionated with punch lines that leave me laughing with myself and anecdotes that leave me pondering... and his overflowing initiative and gregarious disposition makes it easy for him to bond with my loved ones...and he cleans and cooks and looks handsome in his apron especially when he flashes his widest grin... and he leads the prayer and has an enviable relationship with Jesus Christ, and therefore avoids vices and lives for God...and he's romantic without being predictable, sweet without being overrated, and is as hardworking as he is humble... and he loves me and I find no reason for not loving him back...
I think I might consider falling in love after all.
I've been trying to convince myself that cleanliness isn't necessarily next to godliness and a little dirt actually helps enhance an individual's immune system but really, having survived our kiosk's opening week without so much as cringe for failing to scrub the small space clean or arrange stuff the way I think they're supposed to be arranged is a feat.I played quiet well in the game of nonchalance with the wet and grimy construction site, mosquitoes feasting on CBA blood, and too much solid waste not to mention leftovers and plastic utensils crammed in the same makeshift trashcan (gasp!) as my opponents. That and more would've easily sent me packing, shivering 'til I'm a hundred percent certain the whole area is thoroughly disinfected.
I could come up with something, not really grand, but enough to sort out the mess that's been invading our kiosk since day one. I could buy a kick-ass cleaning arsenal and wage war against molds, mites, and mildew. Or, I could cry, alone and defeated, in my room after a long and busy day's work.
On second thought, I could just adjust. And relax.Who cares if it rained noodles on the floor? Who cares about overflowing inharmony of unsegregated garbage? Or of cakes of mud on a rainy day? Or of the fact that [dirty] loads of money pass by my palms while I cook pancit canton or (gasp) eat tuna sandwich with unwashed hands (double gasp!)?
Me taking all these unsanitary part of life into consideration is like a meth addict thinking of giving rehab a chance. But really, the thought should, could, and ought to scare me but I feel pretty normal. Even I surprise myself when I try and succeed at looking at grime and then ignore it. (Whaaaat???!!???)
If surviving all these is normal, and being normal means being less of a neat freak, and being less of a neat freak means being more considerate of dirt then.......
Oh dear God I'm becoming BURARA???!!!!?????
*killing self now...*
US...
Posted Tuesday, March 13, 2007
So there goes my year as a tWS Business Manager.
Did I like my job? I guess so, what with last minute trips to the OIP and weekly visits to the Business and Finance only to find out that the papers have not yet been signed, or the employees whose signatures were urgently needed were on leave, or the last request for petty cash replenishment had not yet been approved (and its been two weeks already!).
Challenging.
But I’d rather not rant about my B&F triumphs and disasters or I’d die of grief caused by too much what ifs. I’m just relieved that my work is over, and happy to have emerged in one piece thank you very much.But just when I was beginning to miss everyone at tWS who brought color to my otherwise pathetic school year, the last of my to-do things brought me back to reality, telling me “Your work isn’t over yet, punk, so slave away!”
Did I mention that I liked my job? Either way, it was definitely not a job well done. Something was always up and it annoyed me as hell that I couldn’t give one hundred percent effort in what I did. Couldn’t prepare the snacks on time, couldn’t get the money I needed, couldn’t find out when the B/F employees were going to be on leave (again), etc…etc…I hated writing columns (no surprises when the final output proved as smelly as dog poo). But I loved the lampoon column I wrote with Jordie, which just confirms how I sucked at the real thing and excelled (I think) at lampoons. So sad…
Wondering where to get funding for surprise activities (trans. Those not included in the budget) was always a challenge. And worrying about what to feed my fellow tWS babies always left me in a tight spot.It was just a job done (half done, actually). Neither great, neither terrible. And I’m not even sure if it was done out of fear, respect, or boredom. Yes, there was love, but there were times when I wanted to quit and relinquish my position to someone more deserving. Only my pride (I have lots of it) kept me from bursting. And only the people I worked with kept me from falling apart.
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I owe this position to Mich who cheerfully recommended me to where I had been these past two semesters. I do hope with all my heart she doesn't consider appointing me a mistake. But, it was indeed worth a tinge of regret...heheIf it wasn't for tWS, I wouldn't have known Kim, my kabsi, for who she is - the patient, understanding workaholic who'd rather not sleep just to finish all her chores than stay around and do nothing. The same Kim who thought I was a Masscom sophie almost three years ago. I wouldn't have gotten to know Odie and Micah, two of the most spiritual people I know and two of the smartest individuals I am proud to be friends with. I know they're good eggs but somehow I can point out where their cracks are.
Speaking of religious individuals, how can I forget John Steve and his "bitaw" tendencies, supergirl Rochelle and her juggling prowess, and word and number demi-god Nino, also known as Mr. Kris Aquino, or was it Inigo?Who would've thought Aiken and I would cross paths once again not as talkative campus ambassadors but as serious [huh?] tWS staffers. The second semester paved way for Aiken and his Beyonce-Lea Salonga singing voice, I'm just glad I lived to see the amazing talents of The Diva.I'm thankful for a lot of things actually. Thankful and amazed to have known the only paper boy with a kick-ass car (with a super cool sound system ready to substitute even the most effective massage chair anytime). Well, Paul, may your technology/gadget-worshipping and hopeless-romantic City of Angels-loving days never cease.
Although I wasn't able to bond with them, Pearl, Sesi, Eugene, and Marvin were as important a part of the Weekly family as all of us were. Should Pearl and Sesi abandon the hopes of becoming RNs, betcha big bucks they could swiftly earn their way to Broadway or Hollywood. The combination of Marvin's photos and Eugene's Photoshop skills truly explained why they were the heaven-sent Portal imports.But before them, the office was graced by meisters Claro (his pictures are the Man!) and Jeruel (di lang pang-lay-out, pang sinugba pa...hehe). Alongside Office master Jan Q they labored, but still managed to have fun like the lovable character Gong Gong created by, and not in the image of, my other tWS kabsi Joseph, who, in all his white glory, didn't need to apply powder on.
Skimmer wannabe John Boaz once told me I gotta choose on which side I render my loyalty. And as often stressed by the loquacious (as in super) Marianne, the Union always knew how to party. How I wish she and Of Beer and Pen blogger Dirgy tie the knot and have little Mariadirgys running around the living room. hehe...If it weren't for these people, I wouldn't have discovered Santander!The truth is I love the Ed Board as much as I love the Union.Happy vacation to those who drank Tequila and Tanduay with me - special mention to Bullfrog Jordan who hasn't even tasted beer and, ohmygosh, SANG, and Donna, whose rendition of Video Kill the Radio Star could've topped the Weekly charts...
The Amazing Award goes to Dirgy who despite red eyes and empty Tequila bottles remained sober and alert! Geek ba na?To those who helped me puke it all while enduring the nasty smell of my insides (again special mention to Michelle and Odie), you were the best. Daghang salamat.To those who understood my being an Obcompfreak, a bright clean future awaits…hehe…
Support the John Boaz-Marianne-Dirgy and Jan7-Donna love teams.
Kampay everyone...
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A hundred cheers to Yann Martel and the Life of Pi! Now I understand why its hot in the bookshelves.Curiosity got the best of me and I couldn't stop wondering what made a 401-page account of a 16-year-old Indian boy's struggle at sea a bestseller. Picture out a hundred chapters of a sole shipwreck survivor's life in a boat in the middle of the Pacific for 227 days. It sounds uneventful but, thank goodness I read it, the Life of Pi is anything but ordinary.
Did I mention that the 16-year-old Indian boy shared the lifeboat with a 450-pound Bengal tiger?
- It has a happy ending (not that its special or anything)
- The main character has three religions (Whoa!)
- Includes survival tips should you (or I) ever find yourselves (myself) in a predicament such as he was in.
- Gives more than sufficient information about the animal kingdom and religion.
And like all things borrowed, the book must now be returned to its owner. I must part with it but not without jotting down memories of Pi Patel.
excerpt from Chapter 23, page 84
...All eyes fell upon me.
"Piscine, can this be true?" asked the imam earnestly. "Hindus and Christians are idolaters. They have many gods."
"And Muslims have many wives," responded the pandit.
The priest looked askance at both of them.
"Piscine," he whispered, "there is salvation only in Jesus."
"Balderdash! Christians know nothing about religion," said the pandit.
"They strayed long ago from God's path," said the imam.
"Where's God in your religion?" snapped the priest. "You don't have a single miracle to show for it. What kind of religion is that, without miracles?"
"It isn't a circus with dead people jumping out of tombs all the time, that's what! We Muslims stick to the essential miracle of exist-ence. Birds flying, rain falling, crops growing - these are miracles enough for us."
"Feathers and rain are very nice, but we like to know that God is truly with us."
"Is that so? Well, a whole lot of good it did God to be with you - you tried to kill him! You banged him to a cross with great big nails. Is that a civilized way to treat a prophet? The prophet Muhammad - peace be unto him - brought us the word of God without any undignified nonsense and died at a ripe old age."
"The word of God? To that illiterate merchant of yours in the middle of the desert? those were drooling epileptic fits brought on by the swaying of his camel, not divine revelation. That, or the sun frying his brains!"
"If the Prophet - p.b.u.h. - were alive, he would have choice words for you," replied the imam, with narrowed eyes.
"Well, he's not! Christ is alive, while your old 'p.b.u.h' is dead, dead, dead!"
The pandit interrupted them quietly. In Tamil he said, "The real questions is, why is Piscine dallying with these foreign religions?"
The eyes of the priest and the imam properly popped out of their heads. They were both native Tamils.
"God is universal," spluttered the priest.
The imam nodded strong approval. "There is only one God."
"And with their one god Muslims are always causing troubles and provoking riots. The proof of how bad Islam is, is how uncivilized Muslims are, " pronounced the pandit.
"Says the slave driver of the caste system," huffed the imam. "Hindus enslave people and worship dressed-up dolls."
"They are golden calf lovers. They kneel before cows," the priest chimed in.
"While Christians kneel before a white man! They are the flunkies of a foreign god. They are the nightmare of all non-white people."
"And they eat pigs and are cannibals," added the imam for good measure.
"What it comes down to," the priest put out with cool rage, "is whether Piscine wants real religion - or myths from a cartoon strip."
"God - or idols," intoned the imam gravely.
"Our gods - or colonial gods," hissed the pandit.
*************
Hmmm, and I thought religious leaders are calm and open-minded.
Tsk tsk tsk...be it declared that sometimes the most pious spiritual leaders could come into blows with other pious spiritual leaders. Amazing, this world is.
