Savoring singlehood

sharing calories with my bestfriends

An old friend called last night and I was pleasantly surprised. After we said our hellos, he asked if I'm OK. Can't complain, I said. He breathed a sigh of relief that got me curious. We updated each other on what's happening in our lives and he said that he read my blog (On being single...) and was worried I'm getting desperate (hahaha)! And here I am, thinking that blog was an optimistic take on being single!

You may have this image in your head of a brooding, cheerless, chain-smoking spinster who snaps at everybody. First of all, I quit smoking 5 years ago (what an accomplishment that was!). I'll admit it though---there are days when I'd like to murder some people, or scream at the rooftop, bomb the Congress, or trash the office. And I could write a book called "Why Being Single Sucks?" That happens sometimes when I'm PMS-ing---most days, I'm a happy, carefree, single woman.

In the middle of the week, I decided to give myself a day-off...invited two single friends and they joined my independence day. We drove to the Mall of Asia, watched a movie, did some shopping, and had dinner by the bay. We can do all these things at the drop of a hat because we're singles. Aren't you glad we're singles???

girl-friends and a cousin

Spontaneity. Freedom. Flexibility. These are some of the best things about being single. It allowed my cousin Franzia to explore the islands with her friends. It allowed my friend Dee to spend her weekends with street-children. It allowed my friend R to quit his job and become a full-time missionary. It allowed a co-worker to scuba dive in Anilao anytime he wants to. It allowed Franzia’s friend J to change careers and move to Batanes. It allowed me to experience travel without missing a husband and kids back home.

Coffee breaks banter would sometimes drift to the topic of sex. While I join in with my share of green jokes, married colleagues say that sex isn't always thrilling. Sometimes, it's awkward and messy, boring and tiresome. As a single woman in this sex-saturated society, sometimes I need to hear this. Who said celibacy is easy???? It's simpler to desire sex, but more complicated if you're looking for closeness, affection and affirmation.

girl power at work

Listening to my married friends over the years, I've learned that marriage isn't always chocolates and roses. Singlehood may have its bad days...but my married friends remind me that married life has its share, too.

Now, the classic question: Can men and women be "just friends"? Remember the movie, When Harry Met Sally? In this husbandless season of my life, I found this to be possible. Without my guy friends, the lack of a husband or boyfriend could be very obvious. We talk on the phone, exchanging creative ideas, meet for coffee or dinner discussing valuable insights about our gender-differences---Vive le difference!--- have a drink every now and then. I'm savoring these male friendships. If I'm married now, I'm not even sure we'd be able to be friends.

friends in San Francisco

I'd lived alone for years. What could have been the loneliest time of my life turned out to be the most rewarding. I would sing along with the radio at the top of my lungs, watch my favorite TV shows over and over again, stay in bed with a good book and stay there until the wee hours of morning, eat breakfast at 10pm, ice cream at 2am, dance naked while cleaning my apartment. There was richness to this time of my life that I wouldn't trade for anything---even the days when the relative silence did actually turn into loneliness.

I've learned that being alone in public has its benefits, too. I take trips alone---sometimes for vacation, some for work. I go out and chat with people I meet at museums, restaurants, airports, resorts...exchanging cultural info. I'm free to take spur-of-the-moment expeditions and connect with interesting people along the way.

dessert buddies :D

I have incredible friends. These are the kind of friends that I can call at 3am and who would take me to the ER when I'm not feeling well, make me laugh while recovering from surgery; who would listen to my rants about an awful day at work, or hold my hand after a terrible date. They are the kind of friends who would accompany me to drive around in the middle of a typhoon to look for a gotohan. We cry at our failures, celebrate our accomplishments, laugh at our blunders, and comfort each other during bad times.

Sharing real life---warts and all---as a single woman has enriched my life in more ways I can't even imagine. All the laughter, deep sharing, moral support, and silliness---are sweeter than just about anything I know.

Masinop ka ba? [Litratong Pinoy]

Natanggap ko na hindi ako yayaman. Di bale, maganda naman ako, at matalino, magaling magluto, masayahin, mabait at di mayabang! O-hah, bakit tumataas ang kilay mo?! H'wag seryosohin!:p

Sabi ng nanay ko, galit daw ako sa pera at hindi masinop kaya kahit gaano pa daw kalaki ang sweldo ko, di ako yayaman. Lagi nya sinasabi sa kanyang mga anak na ang pagtitipid, pagiging masinop at simpleng pamumuhay ang matatag na kapitan sa oras ng pangangailangan. Kahit pa daw may minana kang hacienda kung maluho ang iyong pamumuhay, gastador at maaksaya ka, hindi rin magtatagal ang iyong fortune.

Gusto ko na nga magbago, 'Nay...kaso, wala naman tayong hacienda. Kasalanan ito ng mga malls, lagi silang sale!:p

Kahanga-hanga talaga ang mga taong masinop---pwede silang utangan (hehehe). Pinaghahandaan nila ang rainy days pati na rin ang baha, lindol, sunog, pagkakasakit at ibang calamities na di pa nangyayari. Pero minsan mahirap din ang sobrang masinop...lalo na kung laging nasa safe side na lang, ayaw lumabas sa cocoon, laging nag-aatubili gumawa ng kahit anong hakbang na sa tingin ay mapanganib. Nagiging bisyo din kasi ang kahinaan ng loob.

Basta ako, ang motto ko ay---Don't worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will have it's own worries. Each day has enough trouble of its own. ~ Matthew 6:34

Ang kaperahan sa litrato ay laman ng wallet ko...di ko alam kung papano ko pagkakasyahin hanggang sa susunod na pay day. :p

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"Prudence is an attitude that keeps life safe, but does not often make it happy."

~ Samuel Johnson

Personal time

A friend invited me to join an early dinner with her former office mates last Saturday, and I was surprised to hear them talking about their office Christmas Party next week. Yes, you read it right---a Christmas Party in January! December was a busy month for them that they didn't have time to organize an office party. We chatted over coffee until half past 2 in the morning and they were still receiving work-related calls---from 8 pm until 2 am! The girls told me that they couldn't even enjoy their vacation because their Korean bosses wouldn't approve it. I was troubled and shocked that these women who work hard until late every day, get calls about work at 2 am, couldn't even have a decent vacation! That's horrible!

We work long hours in our industry so all the more reason to respect each others personal time. I believe it's a matter of "educating" the people we work with that our time after work is our own. I used to read business emails even when I'm on vacation, call suppliers when there were problems---in essence, I was working while on vacation. Then I realize that I should take my personal time seriously because it's my time to de-stress and experience down time. Remember---we teach others how to treat us through our own actions. For the past year, I have been able to establish healthy boundaries that separate my work and personal time.

Mobile phones certainly reduce our private time. I used to receive work-related calls while watching a movie, having dinner, or sleeping even. And I'm not a surgeon! Then I learned the wonderful features called "call divert", "voice mail" and "caller ID". Divert work-related calls to a voice mail after office hours---you can decide if it's an urgent matter for you. Someone else lack of planning does not make a matter your emergency.

We all need time away from work even for just a few hours...so make sure you take back control of your personal time. Use your unplugged time to connect with your family, your friends, or spend some much needed time on you---not to do laundry, spring cleaning, run errands, or other have-to's.

Litratong Pinoy: mahalagang regalo [treasured gift]

Ang mga kaibigan ay isa sa pinaka-mahalagang regalo sa atin ng Maykapal at mayaman ako sa mabubuting kaibigan. Dahil siguro hindi tayo nagkaroon ng pagkakataon mamili ng ating pamilya, bumawi sa atin ang Panginoon at binigyan tayo ng kalayaan mamili ng mga kaibigan. Tumpak ang sinabi ni Jacques Delille na, "Chance makes our parents, but choice makes our friends." At tamang-tama lang dahil kailangan natin sa buhay ng mga taong naniniwala sa atin kahit sa mga sandaling nawawala ang bilib natin sa sarili. Napakalungkot ng buhay ng walang kaibigan---walang matatawa sa corny text jokes mo, walang magpapaalala ng mga kapalpakan mo, wala kang kasabay umiyak sa sinehan, walang aalalay sa ‘yo kapag nalasing ka, at higit sa lahat, wala kang makakasama sa pagdiriwang ng iyong tagumpay.

Friends are life's treasured gifts and I am rich with good friends. We didn't choose our family so to make up for that oversight, God rewarded us with the freedom to choose our friends. Jacques Delille was right when he said, "Chance makes our parents, but choice makes our friends." And it’s just perfect…because we need people in our lives who believe in us at a time when we stopped believing in ourselves. Life will be unbearable without friends to laugh and cry with, to get drunk with and to celebrate our successes with.

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More treasured gifts at Litratong Pinoy.

On growing old (reposted)

Hanging Bridge at Eden Nature Park

A girlfriend was ranting about her job at dinner the other night, and said that she feels tired and old while smoothing away her imaginary wrinkles. I commiserated with her, and half-jokingly plotted to beat up her Korean boss.

It made me wonder afterwards if "feeling old" is synonymous with maturity. Is it when we mature that we start to feel old, or the other way around? I "felt old" at 14 after my father died, while my family started to remind me that I’m getting old at 35, harping on my ticking biological clock…tik-tak-tik-tak.

It used to irritate me, the constant reminder about my biological clock---now I find it rather amusing. I'd like to believe that I've finally matured when I was able to overcome the things I used to despair and grieve about, and endure life's uncertainty without jumping off a bridge.

A few times, I caught myself sounding like my mother (cringe!). Then I remember the time [when I was an angry and confused teenager] I declared to everybody who wanted to listen that I would NEVER be like my mother! Now it becomes apparent that I can’t escape the genes I inherited from my parents---I should at least thank my mother for the accidental good genes I got. So I’ve accepted the fact that whatever I do, I can’t avoid cellulites!

The physical aspects of growing old are unavoidable, and because we have a youth-oriented culture, it is natural that we become conscious of our age. I'm turning 40-something this October and I do not wish to look 25---well, maybe just a gorgeous 40-something (hehe). I cursed the day when I started wearing reading glasses---I was 33, and people started calling me ma’am, my cousins called me Miss Principal. But I soon realize that it was actually a blessing. With imperfect vision, I could barely see my wrinkles! (What are wrinkles anyway? They merely indicate where smiles have been.)

It is true that our bodies and minds do change with age, but I believe that we really do get better as we mature. Only in the past few years when I really begun to learn who I am, what I want, and accepted the things I cannot change.

I’ve also found that my personal definition of beauty changes over time. There is a depth and beauty that comes only with age. The men may disagree, but look at Diane Lane (43), Monica Bellucci (44), Halle Berry (42), Zsa Zsa Padilla (43), Dina Bonnevie (47), Meg Ryan (46), to name a few.

When we were younger, my girlfriends and I would meet for lunch that dragged on until dinner…talking about the men [or the lack of it] in our lives, our jobs, fashion trends, movies and books, places we'd like to visit, our daily dramas. Now, we talk about our health scares, our aging parents and their health problems. We worry about our nephews and nieces, the quality of their education, the drug menace, over-population, women and children's rights.

I know that I am getting older because I begin to think about problems which didn’t use to concern me at all. I worry about global warming, deforestation, street children, cholesterol, dioxin carcinogens, terrorism, the economy---and try to do what I can to help. I can now watch a senate hearing on TV without falling asleep. I am officially a "concerned citizen".

While some people look at growing older with fear in their hearts, I see this time of my life differently. There is so much growth that happens as we mature---I am not talking about unwanted hair growth, but emotional, spiritual and yes, physical growth. I’d like to make most of getting older by living my life in a vibrant and healthy manner. I laugh and smile everyday. Read. Listen to music. Eat well. Hold on to my dreams. Love what I'm doing. Engage in stimulating conversations. And still try to exercise, drink lots of water, and get some sleep.

I still panic sometimes, forget to breath. But I have a lot to be grateful for, reaching this stage of my life with conscious and unconscious risks taken, surgeries, illnesses, hopes, regrets, dreams, fears, disappointments, loves, memories. And I’m writing this, smiling at the thought that wrinkles and grey hairs don’t hurt.

Let’s celebrate our journey through this life.

Old crushes

Crushes are what they are---not heavy romantic full-blown relationships, but fun and sometimes, heartbreaking. My first crush was my uncle's best friend, and I was crushed when he got married. I was 9 years old, and I sulked for almost a week! I moved on and discovered that the world was full of boys...buried my first heartache together with my paper dolls and childish wishes.

I still get teased by my brothers and cousins about my crushes. Maybe because I was always vocal about the objects of my girlish infatuations. I would announce it to the whole clan, and the boys in the family were often embarrassed by my shameless display of admiration. One unforgettable crush was a brother-in-law of my aunt's officemate. I was 14, and the boy was a high school senior, a star player in a basketball team. Stars would get into my eyes when the boy passed by our house, and I jumped like a lunatic when he smiled at me. Then a wicked cousin who was rooting for another basketball team burst my bubble by telling my brothers that my crush was too chicken to get circumcised. The boys teased me mercilessly until I threw a banana-Q stick at my brother's face that narrowly missed his left eye.

That incident didn't discourage my brothers and cousins. And I didn't care if my crushes were circumcised or not! Hahahaha

I bet no other girl will remember every detail about you…except for me…I bet no other girl will remember your favorite song except for me…No other girl will remember your perfect smile, except for me…so why is it that you look at every other girl…except for me?

This morning, I ran into an old crush on my way to the parking lot. I didn't recognize him at first, but he looked familiar so I said hi and introduced myself (I don't know why I do that---a few times, to people that I thought I knew, only to realize that I saw that person on TV). Anyway, he was surprised (and I'd like to think, glad) to see me, and we chatted happily. Incidentally, he lives in my neighborhood, married, with an adopted daughter. We stood at the sidewalk, talking like old friends, and he mentioned a couple of times that he got married because I left him. What??? Left him??? What a load of blarney! (Pero kinilig ako do'n ha?! hehehe)

We shared an office building at Ayala Avenue many years ago. I was in my early 20's...he was a dashing guy with chinky eyes and dimpled smile, who impelled to me visit the cafeteria at exactly 3 pm whether I was hungry or not. He and his buddies were having coffee there. I was quite shameless at that age! And I bet that everybody in the building knew that I had a huge crush on the guy---from the security guard to Manong Eli, the janitor, who winked at me while I was walking towards the cafeteria. And he was charming, always nice to me and my officemates...I felt like a high school kid when he was around. After I moved to another job, I didn't see him again...it was more than 15 years ago!

I'm glad to see him still looking good, obviously happy. Now, the question that I always dread: "Why are you still single?" he asked. I retaliated by saying---kasi di mo ako niligawan n'on! I'm bad! But talking to him again after all these years has excited my molecules, and brought a smile on my face the whole morning.

Life is good!

I had a nice weekend. It was well-deserved after a hectic, frustrating, and annoying work week. Fritz’ growls woke me up late Sunday morning…my poor, little doggie was trying to climb the stairs to my bedroom. He was on the 3rd step and was getting very frustrated---his clumsy hind legs were getting in the way. I guess Fritz was tired of waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs so he decided to wake me up.

I was actually dreaming…a chaotic, hysterical dream. In my dream, my grandmother [who passed away more than 20 years ago] was having a mahjong party. Everybody was smoking, in retro attire, and the room looked like a stage of Eat Bulaga in the 80’s, with strobe light and artificial smoke. Thankfully, there was no Tito-Vic-and-Joey! I was fanning my grandfather [who died in 1976] with peacock feathers, then a disheveled woman sat down beside me and told me that she’s my biological mother and my real father is George Clooney. I was shocked, and all I could say was, “Tito George is my real dad?”…Yeah, Tito George because George Clooney is a family friend! Imagine that! Hahahaha So I was adopted! I was ecstatic that finally, there’s somebody who can prove that I was adopted! Oh jeezzz!

bridge of sigh

When I told my mother about the dream while we were having Sunday lunch, she laughed and said it’s too bad that I’m stuck with them (my "adopted" family) because George Clooney is too busy with his Hollywood career and the war in Darfur. Oh, Mother! That’s what you get from watching too much CNN and E! True Hollywood Story!

George Clooney, by the way, will always be an object of my desire.

dancing lady

I wonder if that dream was the result of a great dinner the night before. My cousin Jan-Jan arrived from Bacolod last week, and as a beautiful...este dutiful Ate, I brought him to Serendra for dinner with our Tita Awen. We were so famished after we were seated at Abe that the food was demolished in a matter of minutes. We probably looked like a trio of calorie-obsessed refugees...unmindful of the rice crisis, we ordered another bowl of rice! Jan-Jan is trying to quit smoking, and was getting restless after dinner, craving for his vitamins. To distract him, we drove to Greenbelt 5, walked around a bit, and had dessert at Pia Y Damaso. It was Jan-Jan's first visit to the new Greenbelt, he breathed in the scenes around him, and temporarily forgot his desire for nicotine.

Oh, and finally! After deliberation from the lower and upper Houses of Congress, I got a haircut yesterday afternoon---plus a hot oil and massage. Hayyyyyy, sarap! Life is good (despite the perennial irritant at the end of the hallway, which I will blog one of these days, ala-Brian Gorrell! Hahahaha)!

with cousin Jan-Jan at Serendra

P.S.1. The photos of flowers and my "bridge of sigh" were taken in my boss' farm during our company outing 2 weekends ago.

P.S.2. Last photo was posted because a co-worker said I look slim in this photo! This is a "before-dinner" photo. hehehe

The heart is a lonely hunter...

dawn in Romblon

When I think of loneliness, the novel "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter" is the first thing that comes to mind.

Is it OK to talk about loneliness nowadays? Probably not. There’s always shame and disgrace attached to admitting loneliness. Maybe this is the reason why I sometimes wrap it in fancy names like depression (sounds like a medical condition), blues (a personal idiosyncrasy), PMS (can’t help it). I have friends and family and I can find the company I want if I really want it…but it’s the type of company that adds to my feelings of isolation. For a couple of weeks now, I can never quite seem to shake this state of discontented estrangement. I'm having a hard time getting up in the morning--all I want to do is sleep.

My co-worker suggested that I go out of town with friends, that I need a break. I was thinking of going to Baguio last Friday for the Panagbenga festival, but I was too lazy to even pack! I like the idea of going out of town---anywhere---but I don’t like company. Right now, I want to just drive alone without a definite destination. The scheduled trip to Cebu next week is probably a good thing.

I was out with friends almost every night last week…watched a movie, drinks and blabber---but I felt incredibly lonely in the middle of it all. I hugged Fritz last night and was overcome by that same emptiness.

Maybe it's the literature I've been reading---I’ve finished Orhan Pamuk’s “Istanbul” and have started on “The Kite Runner” by an Afghan-American author Khaled Hosseini. I guess the melancholy (or huzun) of “Istanbul” didn’t leave me.

Huzun is a Turkish word whose Arabic root (it appears five times in the Koran) denotes a feeling of deep spiritual loss but also a hopeful way of looking at life, “a state of mind that is ultimately as life-affirming as it is negating.” For the Sufis, huzun is the spiritual anguish one feels at not being close enough to God; for Saint John of the Cross, this anguish causes the sufferer to plummet so far down that his soul will, as a result, soar to its divine desire. Huzun is therefore a sought-after state, and it is the absence, not the presence, of huzun that causes the sufferer distress.

While some of us spend a lifetime trying to escape loneliness with shoe shopping, binge eating, alcohol, one-night stands…I believe that the only real way through it is by forming true connections with people. But as I grow older, I sometimes feel that I seem to have lost the connection with people, that I indulge myself in solitude. Have I become indifferent? Have I opted to emails, internet chats, blogging, and text messages in order not to get my hands dirty in the humus of humanity? Are these technologies little arrows targeting at the heart of loneliness, or they’re the contributing factors?

I don't know if my loneliness is a symptom of not being “present” in my life. Do I live in the past or the future? Am I denying myself this moment? I ask myself lots of difficult questions when I’m in this mood, and I don’t have the answers. But I learned from experience that loneliness is part of the puzzle of existence, a passing phase, a flatulence of the soul—so I know, I’ll snap out of it. It’s just a question of when.

On being single

One late Tuesday morning, I hurriedly stopped by at Starbucks in my office building. It was a stressful drive from Sucat to Ortigas and I was dying for a hot latte. Latte in hand, I headed for the door when someone caught my eye. Sitting in a black sofa was a slim woman in her early thirties. She was casually dressed in khaki shorts, white t-shirt, and running shoes. A white gold wedding band graced her ring finger, which held a broadsheet she was reading. The woman's baby boy was sleeping in her lap.

For days, I thought about my reaction to this scene. Looking at them, I felt emotion swell from my chest and throat, and brought tears to my eyes. Why??? (I was not PMS-ing, thank you!)

Someone inside me that morning---wanted to be that woman. To wake up and put on shorts and t-shirt on a weekday. To be free of the need to work outside the home full-time. To be able to sit in a Starbucks at 10am, drink latte, hold my child, and read the paper. I don't know her story, but what I saw was a young mother enjoying her life.

I'm a single woman, and it's true that I have a good life...it's not perfect, but it's a good life. I have a healthy family, great friends, and an interesting and rewarding job. But being single is hard sometimes. Most days the kind of companionship I long for in the world, I don't have. This feeling constantly drives me to seek answers from prayers, and the answer I consistently get is: Be patient.

What kind of an answer is that???

I've been patient enough! Should I keep hoping? For how long? I wrestled in prayers with hope and despair, stormed the heavens. But the answer is still the same---Be Patient.

I would comfort myself that some questions only have answers in heaven. People would ask me time and again why I'm not married, as if being single is a sickness that marriage can cure. And I always have a ready answer. But deep inside, at each passing year, I know that the chance of being a mother and wife is slipping farther away. Dark thoughts would sometimes enter my mind...maybe I am not capable of having a deep, committed relationship with a man, or I'm not attractive enough, not charming and intelligent enough, not sexy enough, not submissive at all! And because of that, I’ll be alone forever.

But I've learned to see the battle more clearly and I've found courage to face the future without fear. Whether I have a husband or not, I believe that I have a constant protector and provider. In my darkest hours, when I've come to the end of myself and tasted loneliness past to what I thought I could bear, I pray for strength and courage.

God has made me the woman I am...being single allowed me the opportunity to learn who this woman is. And I'd rather be single forever than be with someone who wants me to be someone else. This is me---Luna, who doesn't resemble Angelina Jolie, doesn't always say the right things, and is bored with sports!

I still have moments of loneliness and disappointment. But I know I've become a woman with greater capacity to love and I continue to struggle to become a better person. As I think back to that morning at Starbucks, I realize that God's gifts come in many forms, but they're all meant to accomplish that same single purpose---shaping me into a woman he created me to be.

Puppy Love

too adorable for words

I never had a dog since I was a teenager. Spinks [named after Leon Spinks who knocked-out Muhammad Ali in '78], our pet Shih Tzu was hit and killed by a car when I was 15. He ran after my brother who crossed the street, didn't notice Spinks was behind him. After a flood of tears and condemning my brother to the depths of hell, I was reluctant of having a pet again. My mother continued to take care of Nadia Comaneci, a dachshund and Spinks' partner, and I kept an emotional distance. I tried cultivating a cactus about a decade ago...but even a cactus could die from drought! Any animal or plant didn't fit into my lifestyle. I thought of buying an aquarium after a friend told me that staring at his aquarium soothes him. Then another friend told me that even fish gets depressed when left alone for days---an aruana commits suicide (ouch! who wants to be blamed for that?), so I abandoned the idea. An officemate brought a bonsai as a housewarming present, but it drooped and shriveled after a few months. A girlfriend who breeds lovebirds as a hobby has been offering me a pair but I was afraid the birds would just drop dead (kamikaze birds?) and I'd be heart-broken. Yes, I have serious issues... which I am trying to overcome! :D

girl-watching

So to hone my nurturing skills, and declare that I'm indeed a responsible adult, I decided to have a real, living, breathing dependent. Here he is--- TaDaaaaa... meet Fritz, a Japanese Spitz, and the love of my life. I took him home when he was about a month old, and he’s almost 8 months old now. Fritz has a congenital defect which makes him a lot more loveable. He has splayed legs so he walks like a penguin but runs like an Olympian! He runs to the door as I open the gate every night when I come home, wags his tail and kisses me all over. Fritz is playful and affectionate...he loves being scratched especially on the belly, and nibbles at my fingers while we’re watching TV.

chewing the horse' tail

During the vaccination period, I asked the vet if there’s anything he can do to correct his hind legs and the vet said they’re hopeless. Well, it doesn't matter...he's a well-adjusted and happy dog. And I love him to bits! In early January, Fritz got a scare of his young life. We drove that Sunday afternoon to Bonifacio High Street so he could socialize and run on the grass. I parked and was about to turn off the car engine when there was a loud bang, and smoke coming from under the car. From the passenger seat, Fritz jumped onto my lap, he was trembling. I couldn’t get out from the driver’s seat because he was clinging to me, and making small noises. It took me awhile to calm him down and carried him out of the car. Turned out, my radiator hose burst. :(

a 3-month old cutie

He peed twice when I put him down, he was trembling. At his favorite playground, he was jittery and didn’t want to leave my side. Other dogs were running around but Fritz was not in his usual sociable mood, instead he inserted himself between two rocks. He was jumpy for the next couple of days. His body would jump at the sound of a door closing, or a distant roar of car engine. When asleep, a leg or parts of his body would tremble---perhaps he was having bad dreams. Then he lost his appetite, and wouldn’t eat unless I feed him by my hand.

anti-social mood

That really worried me…hell, I even cried about it! Brought him to the vet and was prescribed an antibiotic, vitamins, appetite stimulant, and a water-soluble powder for his drink. When he wouldn’t drink his milk, I would feed it to him through a plastic syringe. The morning after we were at the vet, he was really in a bad shape. He was falling like a drunken master---his knees couldn’t support his body. Maybe it was from hunger because he ate too little the previous night. He really gave me a scare! He wouldn’t eat dog food from the can so I cooked chicken liver adobo for him. When I put food in his plate, he demolished it like there’s no tomorrow. He quickly regained his balance but I called the vet anyway---I was like a hysterical mom! :D

pebbles therapy

Happily, Fritz is back to his old happy self. His appetite has returned and is gaining weight again. He loves snacking on milk cookies, and wrestles the stuffed toy I bought for him. I pamper him with lots of attention, lots of hugs, scratching his belly and head. And every time he wags his tail, I’m the happiest girl in town.

Fritz today

I think we are drawn to dogs because they are the uninhibited creatures we might be if we weren't certain we knew better. They fight for honor at the first challenge, make love with no moral restraint, and they do not for all their marvelous instincts appear to know about death. Being such wonderfully uncomplicated beings, they need us to do their worrying.

~George Bird Evans

An old flame

I accidentally met an old flame this morning, at the doctor’s clinic, of all places! It was my follow up check-up with a gastroenterologist, and he was with his wife and daughter to see a pediatrician next door. Waiting to be called in, I sat outside the clinic with the other patients, eyes closed, earphone plugged in my ears, and was surprised when my shoulder was tapped. I haven't seen him in a long, long time. I said hello, and was caught off guard when he kissed my cheek! His wife was staring and it was a bit awkward for a few seconds. After some kumustahan, he introduced me---telling his wife that we used to be neighbors! Kissing neighbors? Hah! Now I’m relegated to being an ex-neighbor, I thought! Funny!

When they entered the clinic, I returned to my music but couldn’t help thinking about our 'past'. More than a decade ago, we were "in love" but things didn’t work. We were both young and the relationship was full of drama (on his part mostly)! Most of our arguments were silly really, now that I think about it. One of the unforgettable dramas was when I walked out of our friend’s party because he was getting drunk and started saying stupid things. When I got home, it started to rain, then my roommates told me that he was at the gate asking for me. I told my roommates that he’s drunk and I wanted him to leave. He didn’t leave…instead he kept on calling my name and it was raining...he was soaked to the skin (di ba parang sine? hahaha)! My roommates were looking out the window feeling sorry for him, while I went to bed. Yes, I was a cold-hearted bitch! :D

I remember he liked being alone, and he was shy with strangers. People would mistake his shyness and reclusiveness for arrogance. I guess it was a convenient label slapped by those who see only the surface of things and nothing more. But alcohol loosened up his tongue---he would talk endlessly and sometimes, cry. It was like he had a split-personality disorder! He was this shy, thoughtful and gentle person when he's “normal” but after a few beers, he became a totally different person---nasty, jealous, offensive and just strange. He and his wife lookeed happy though…maybe she enjoys listening to his rants and could manage his psychotic breaks.

So there I was, sitting outside the doctor’s clinic, with a smug look on my face when he said goodbye. And I thought of my life now…a life of slightly unsettled contentment, all right in general but cut through with an aloneness that I simultaneously treasure and dislike. It’s a blend of contentment and weariness of being happy where I am and yet wishing I am somewhere else. But not with him, that’s for sure! I wish him and his family all the best.

Sometimes you have to get to know someone really well to realize you're really strangers.

~Mary Tyler Moore

Over a cup of coffee

On Sunday afternoons, while waiting for my friends attending the 5 pm mass, I would sit at a coffee shop in Greenbelt and watch people. I would sit there contemplating the expressions on their faces, their fashion sense, their body language, the way they walk. People pass me by in all shapes and sizes, from dull to colorful...some with sure, quiet strides, some with aimless saunter, some with anticipation, a couple in a hurry, teenagers bickering. A young man with sad eyes made me ask myself if we all harbor great sadness in our souls, an old man at peace with life, a woman walking lost in her thoughts, maybe in order to find herself again. Another seems to wander, looking for something...maybe a smile or a wave; some stroll without a care in the world. I'm sitting there with my coffee, thinking of a place where love had hidden itself away.

Sometimes, in the silence of my heart, I would wish for someone to invite him/herself at my table for a conversation. A stranger, looking for someone to talk to, would decide to rest at my table. Hot coffee and good conversation...what a lovely way to spend a Sunday afternoon. But that would never happen. Because people don't talk anymore, they don't sit down to talk and listen. They go to the movies, watch TV, listen to the radio, read books, but they almost never talk. If we want to change the world, we have to go back to a time when warriors gather around the fire and tell stories.

coffee with Sienna and friends, Starbucks-Eastwood

All the really important things in my life had risen out of long conversations---with my sister, with my aunts and cousins, with my closest friends. I miss the brilliance of face to face conversations where souls are unveiled, where you can gaze at each other's eyes, connected by energy, express each other's thoughts and perspectives on the human condition. Or convey a comforting touch from a friend to another. "A single conversation across the table with a wise man is worth a month's study of books", somebody quoted that to me. When I have a real conversation with somebody, it's a marvel of sustained revelation.

Some Sunday when you're free...let's talk over a cup of coffee.

cafe in London

Footloose and childfree

I've wanted to write this blog for weeks now but I don't know where to start, and what to write exactly to express what's inside my head. This really started a couple of months ago when my co-workers and I had lunch with one of our service providers. R, a single guy, told us that somebody sold him a newborn baby for P6,500, and he bought the baby! The baby is an 8th child of a poor family and the parents decided to give up the baby. He registered the baby boy as his child, took the baby to his hometown in Bicol and left him in the care of his sister. He sends support each month and visits the baby.

When we returned to the office, my co-workers started to suggest that I adopt a baby instead of lavishing all my love and attention to my dog, Fritz. What's wrong with that? But that night, I thought about it. Would a baby make my life happier, more meaningful, and more purpose-driven?

This is not the first time that I thought about adoption. A few years ago, my sister-in-law called about a college girl who gave birth to a beautiful baby. The girl wanted to give up the baby for adoption…my sis-in-law asked me if I'd be interested. My first instinct was to say yes…but after a few hours, the thought of raising a human being scared me! I'm surrounded with mothers…women at work, my girlfriends, and relatives.

I know what some women would be willing to go through just to have a child. Many women would leave a fulfilling career to be able to conceive. My high school friend went through an emotionally draining and expensive process to get pregnant. A co-worker had 4 miscarriages but she kept on trying until her last and 5th pregnancy where she and her husband spent almost half a million pesos to bring the fetus to full term.

I've been asked many times why I don't have a child. It is difficult sometimes to explain that I remain childless simply because I do not have a husband. I am uncomfortable with a child not having a father---no physical person u can look in the eye, no grave to visit, no photo album to pore over to see where the resemblance is. I think fathers play an important role in the lives of children. If I'd say I've been married 2 times and failed at each marriage---that would be fine, that would be normal. But never to have married is not.

There are married women who even develop certain smugness when they learn that I am not married and childless. When did I get to be a bad person because I never married? How did that happen? Because I was smart enough to walk away from a couple of guys who were pretty good catches, I may add---but in hindsight my instincts were absolutely right---it wouldn't have been a good marriage. When did I get to be damaged goods? So I've been told that I'm too picky, that my standards are impossible, and that I should adopt. Some well-meaning friends and relatives seem to make it their mission to remind me time after time after time that I'd grow old alone without a child. I was told that I don't really need a husband, just a child to take care of me when I am old. They maybe right (that I don't need a husband)…but I believe that bringing a child into this world for the purpose of having somebody to wipe my ass when I’m too old to do it, is a very wrong reason to have a child in the first place. I like babies, especially when I could return them to their parents after a couple of hours. I have encounters with children…they usually run away from me because I enjoy making them cry---by biting their pudgy fingers, tickle them, make scary faces, tell them scary stories, and then make them smile/laugh. I felt "maternal" when my nephews were still babies and a couple of times just recently. In the elevator at SM, a few-month old baby kept on smiling at me even when I was doing nothing. Suddenly, I felt my throat tighten and I had an urge to grab the child from her mother's arms and run away. That would be a sight---Look! A crazy woman kidnapped the baby! In a plane from HK, a boy of about 3 was trying to talk to me. The boy's dad tried to distract him but he kept on talking to me in a language of 3-year olds, and then later, sat on my lap. Well, I had the window seat---I guess, he wanted to see the clouds outside. Kids at the beach, malls, and parks are talking to me---and I don’t know why!

I bumped into a former officemate in the mall one weekend. I never really liked the woman but when she said hello (like we're old friends), I politely said hi. After the usual chika, she asked if I have children. When I said no, she said that she only felt complete when she became a mother---that it totally fulfilled her. I thought it was a blatant attempt to make me feel like I was not worthy because I am not a mother. Considering the source, I didn't take it personally, but looking at her---with dry hair, wrinkled skin, sagging boobs, my guess is, she never had an orgasm in years! OK, that was bitchy.:D

But wouldn’t it be nice if we respect our differences? It’s not that simple that this woman is childless---don’t assume that she’s not capable to nourish, cherish or indulge another human being. I find it amusing, even endearing when a man goes against the grain and does something like cross-stitch, but I know people who are suspicious of a woman who does not wish to nurture. I truly believe that we limit what it means to be a woman if we define womanhood within the narrow confines of motherhood alone. It is often difficult to understand the choices other people make. I can no more understand how my best friend feels about giving birth to her daughter than I can imagine winning a gold medal in the Olympics, performing brain surgery, or walking the streets begging for food. We give birth to ideas, to relationships, to works of art, to hope, to peace, to children, and to each other. I go on, day after day, doing the best I can. And I would like my decisions in life, whatever they may be, to be respected, and my choices considered as valid as anyone else's.

Sleepless

I am the kind of friend you can call at 3 am because more often than not, I would still be awake, reading and listening to music. I have a friend who suffers from transient insomnia so we chat on the phone once in a while in the small hours of morning. But when I called him around 2:30 am on Saturday, he told me to get out of bed and clean the bathroom. Drink milk. Count sheep. Play with Fritz. Or get back to bed and have an orgasm!

The latter was not a bad idea…but when I started reading ‘Istanbul’ (by Orhan Pamuk), I forgot his advice. By 4 am, I started noticing fine cracks on the wall. The wall beside my bed. The wall right beside my bed that I spend so many sleepless nights staring at. Through the years, I’ve developed a very special intimacy with my wall. Ours is an intimacy by circumstance. When I have long passed the point of resisting and in a peaceful state of surrender, I give up to its cozy closeness and undemanding company.

But there are instances when the serenity of our companionship is broken. I imagine Fritz being devoured by garapata so I'd go downstairs to check on him, scan the kitchen walls for crawling, creepy insects that might attack my dog. Or I would smell something burning. Or hear roaches somewhere near my bedroom door. Or listen to the callings of cats in heat. Then I’d fall asleep before sunrise.

Oh, I have not seen the sunrise in many, many years. The last sunrise that left an impression on me was the one I saw from the deck of a ship in 1990 on my way home to Negros. I don’t sleep on ships---worried of an underwater volcano that might erupt while I’m asleep, boulder of rocks the ship might bump into and other crazy things only a neurotic can concoct. It was a magnificent sunrise by the way, with hues of silver, purple, pink, orange and red. That reminds of a scene in a movie, 'Interview with a Vampire'---Louis (Brad Pitt) watching his last sunrise before becoming a vampire. Like Louis, I'm longing to see the sunrise again—when, I don’t know.

My sister would say in jest that she sleeps like a baby because she has a clear conscience. While I don’t claim to have crystal clear conscience, I attribute my sleeplessness to thinking too much, beautiful music, great literary works and the moon.

Dawn: When men of reason go to bed. ~Ambrose Bierce

Pregnant with possibilities

I like the phrase and the sound of it. Pregnant with possibilities is what I’d like to be in the Year of the Rat. In my mind, there’s a picture of a psychedelic butete burping letters from its mouth --- P O S S I B I L I T I E S. Each letter bubbles on the surface of the water and turns into gorgeous men parading on the beach. I am the only person on the beach---judge and jury of this parade. It's Raining Men is playing in my iPod. :D

Kidding aside, I approach the New Year armed with lessons learned this past year and inspired by possibilities. There have been a great many things that happened to me in 2007, but I had blunders as well as things that I tried but fell short. In 2008 onwards, I’d like to focus on life's possibilities and develop a kind of optimistic hunger to try something new.

This year, I would like to be fearless in many areas of my life, make mistakes, take chances again…been a cautious observer for so long. At the back of my mind, there’s the fear of failure, disappointment, pain---but if I’ve learned something all these years, it’s ‘what won’t kill you makes you stronger.’

Life in a rat race is getting dull and exasperating, not to mention brain-numbing. I’d like to take it slow this time, take nothing for granted---‘suck the marrow from the bones of life’.

“To be a better person” has been my personal slogan for so long. I’d like to stop getting better, and start appreciating what I am. I’d like to give in to a little temptation once in a while, stop trying to make everything rational. I’d like to doubt again in order to test my convictions.

Yes, I’d like to live deliberately from now on…it’s about time!

The trouble with the rat race is that even if you win, you're still a rat. ~Lily Tomlin

Lil' JJ

Babies, as innocent and powerless as they are, make the world go round. As soon as they are conceived, they make you give up a lot of things you love---like smoking, late nights, alcohol, roller-coaster rides, binge eating, bungee jumping, non-stop shopping. Having a baby is a life-changing experience, according to my friends. Babies make you feel hopeful about the future, that the next generation will right the wrongs done by the older generation. But don’t discount the fact that having a baby can also cause apprehension. The world is a dangerous place; people seem to stop caring about each other anymore.

All things considered, there seems to be no right time to have a baby these days. The cost of raising a child is staggering, especially for a single working woman. So I was surprised when a friend of mine decided to get pregnant anyway despite the indecisiveness of the baby’s father. I admire my friend’s courage in going through her pregnancy alone…I meant, in the absence of the man who got her in that condition.

With our outdated traditions and sometimes bizarre social customs, I’m happy that the laudable Filipino family values are still alive today. We have a tremendous support system that is not common elsewhere. And my friend is very lucky to have this kind of support from her family.

Let’s welcome JJ, my newest inaanak! This little boy is a bubbly and delightful bundle of joy…not to mention, good-looking! Nagmana sa ninang!

If I have a monument in this world, it is my son.
~ Maya Angelou

Monday Blues

After the weekend, Monday mornings are always a reminder that it's another week of keeping my nose to the grindstone. I'm always zombie-like on Monday mornings. This morning was cloudy, and that kept me in bed for another 20 minutes. Remember that Carpenters' song, "talking to myself and feeling low/sometimes I’d like to quit/nothing ever seems to fit/walking around, nothing to do but frown/rainy days on Mondays always get me down". This song perfectly describes my Monday blues. Nothing is really wrong, feeling like I don't belong...

Anyway, nothing meaningful and earth-shaking happened to me during the long weekend. The weekend was marked by a series of uneventful yet pleasant episodes in a life of a single woman with nothing else to do. Out of boredom, I secretly wished for a week-long coup d'etat! Unfortunately, tear gas was enough to make the coup plotters surrender, so I resigned myself to the doldrums of a long weekend. Sigh!

Friday

I planned of going to Liwasang Bonifacio last Friday to witness the celebration of Andres Bonifacio's 144th birthday. But I got stuck in front of the television watching commentaries on Trillanes’ recent misadventure at the Manila Pen. By late Friday afternoon, my friends called from Greenbelt inviting me to have coffee with them. After dinner at Capricciosa, we explored the newly-opened Greenbelt 5 while debating on which movie to watch---my friends wanted to see One More Chance (giggles), I wanted to see The Namesake. I was out-voted! Fortunately [for me], One More Chance was not being shown at Greenbelt 3 (yeheyyyy!) and we were too lazy to walk to Glorietta.

The Namesake is based on a novel of the same title written by Jhumpa Lahiri. I came upon this novel early this year when I was grounded at the Minneapolis airport on my way to San Francisco. Our plane returned to the terminal 15 minutes after take off after we complained of an unpleasant odor inside the plane---it smelled like a combination of daing and smelly feet! It turned out, there was some problem with the plane’s air-conditioning system. The flight was delayed for almost 4 hours!

With nothing else to do, I looked for a bookstore thinking of Jhumpa Lahiri’s Interpreter of Maladies (a Pulitzer-prize winning debut). Interpreter, however, was out of stock…so I bought The Namesake. And I’m glad I did.

Gogol Ganguli, an American-born son of Indian immigrants, was afflicted from birth with a name that is neither Indian nor American. He is given a name by his father, who before coming to America to study at MIT, was almost killed in a train accident in India. Ashoke, the father, was holding on to pages of Nikolai Gogol’s book when rescuers found him. The story of Gogol and his family kept me busy and entertained till I landed in Manila. I cried my eyes out on the plane while reading this novel that the old guy across the aisle was giving me sympathetic looks, and the flight attendant served me an extra scoop of ice cream.

The movie also sent me to tears (I pretended to wipe my nose!). I could relate to Ashima’s (Gogol’s mother) loneliness in a foreign land, away from her family and anything familiar.

Saturday

I was supposed to go to the supermarket in the morning but I was too lazy. Spending the whole Saturday morning in bed listening to the radio was a pleasant exercise. I had a late lunch then went back to bed for a nap and by 3:30 pm, I was driving towards Mandarin Hotel to check out the Annual Wiredstate Hi-Fi Show. But the line to the parking lot was very long; I drove around once, and then decided to go to MoA instead. I was planning to see SM Science Discovery Center in preparation to my nephews Xmas vacation in 2 weeks. But the Science Discovery Center was full of school children---the reason for 10 or so buses at the parking lot.

By dinner time, I was at Seaside with 3 friends binging on suahe, talaba, crabs and lapu-lapu. We went to the nearby pet shop after dinner and shopped for our dogs’ Santa costume. I also bought cookies and a red shirt for Fritz.

Happy that the curfew was imposed for only 1 night, we drove to Bonifacio High Street to have coffee. The place was packed with people. The midnight breeze was cold we regretted not bringing our jackets.

Sunday

Catching up on movies/TV series that I missed is usually my Sunday morning activity. Brunch in front of the TV watching Hairspray in my pajamas was the place to be...also feasted on House' Season 4. Then chatted with my land lord about the Trillanes’ disaster while reading the newspapers. A retired soldier and a loyal Binay supporter---you can imagine which side he’s on.

I put an Armik cd on, played with Fritz, and gave him a bath. Made pop corn and began reading Istanbul (by Orhan Pamuk) until it’s time to leave for the supermarket. It was crazy at the mall---I was dizzy with all the people, colors, and movement before my eyes. Christmas songs permeated the air---the merry season is definitely here!

Monday

When I woke up this morning, I knew I had the blues. I wonder if there's a medical term for it. I'm just tired of feeling this way on Monday mornings. Just when you're getting used to the weekend---it's over!

The long weekend produced a languor in my soul I feel that I have been sleep-walking the whole day. I decided to write this blog while having coffee to get my brains into mental aerobics. My blood is just warming up...

Apartment-hunting

For the past month or so I toured several apartments in different areas in Makati. I also drove around the streets near my friends’ home so we could be neighbors. These tours were scheduled before I knew my landlady would change her mind and let me stay. I was being kicked out because my landlady’s youngest daughter is getting married in December and would like to move in my apartment with her new husband. Much as I hate to move, I understand my landlady’s decision.

In my apartment-hunting expeditions, I encountered a few interesting if not weird characters. Each apartment I’ve seen has a name in my head so I wouldn’t forget the details.

The blue door. This was located on a quiet street 10 minutes away from my current apartment. The last tenant left the day before I viewed the place, and it was a total mess. The walls were vandalized with coffee stains and pencil drawings---I imagined people throwing coffee at each other and kids suffering from Dysgraphia writing compulsively on every wall. The whole place looked like the former tenants hadn’t cleaned for years! The owner’s son looked at the place disgustingly while giving me a tour. He promised to call me as soon as the renovations are done, or I’ll give him a call in 2 weeks. P8,000/month. Probably yes.

Bella Flores. I’m calling this brand new apartment ‘Bella Flores’ because the owner has a strong resemblance to the actress. Solid doors, great-looking cabinets, nice bathrooms, spacious rooms. The location is good and the compound looks quiet and secure. But she’s asking too much for this 2-bedroom apartment. Plus, there’s an extra fee for parking space. P10,000/month plus P1,500/month for parking. No way.

Yellow. This is an old apartment but newly painted in yellow. There’s yellow everywhere! No kitchen cabinets, the bathroom looks creepy, roaches were all over the walls in the kitchen. The floors are covered in dirty-white vinyl that resembles a hospital floor. Spacious upstairs bedrooms, big windows, nice garden but very narrow pathway to the gate, street-parking. P7,500/month. Probably not.

Mr. Suave. The gate was opened by a man who has the mannerisms of Mr. Suave. He was disgustingly charming, I almost burst out laughing. When I asked to see the vacant apartment, he rubbed his chin like he was analyzing some math problem that would solve this country’s foreign debt. Then he spoke in his Mr. Suave voice that his family has a tradition of not showing the apartment after 6pm. I was itching to ask---are you afraid of vampires viewing your apartment at night? Then he winked at me and said that he’s breaking the tradition for me because I look like a good girl (akala lang n’ya yon!) and went back inside to get the keys.

Anyway, the street in front of the apartment building was a little flooded due to a broken water pipe. There was also a small mountain of garbage for collection, the gate badly needed a paint job---it looked like a tetanus waiting to happen. Inside was a 2-storey apartment with narrow stairs, small bedrooms and a bathroom for midgets. P7,000/month. No go.

Perfect. A secure gate and a porch, 2 spacious bedrooms on the second floor and a huge bathroom, 1 smaller bedroom on the ground floor that can be a home-office, with built-in book shelves. Hardwood floors upstairs, big windows, large laundry area, and a basketball court [which is converted into a parking lot at night] across the street. The owners are a likeable couple. Problem is, the current tenant has not paid rent for 4 months and kept on promising to pay. The tenant said she’s moving out soon but as of last weekend, the apartment has not been vacated yet. The owners are asking me to wait until the current tenant has moved out. P8,500/month. Yes, yes, yes!

Last weekend I started packing the dinner wares, glass wares and books in boxes---I was planning to move out by end of the month. Then my landlady called the other day to ask if I have already found an apartment and if I have given a deposit. I told her about the “perfect” apartment but haven’t given any deposit yet. She asked if I would prefer to stay---I said yes. After all, moving all the furniture and all my stuff is a lot of work. Even when my cousins, friends and neighbors offered to help me move, it’s still a lot to go through. My landlady explained that she wants me to stay because her soon-to-be son-in-law is not very keen on living so near his in-laws. My prayers were answered, after all!

So here I am, taking out the plates and glasses from the boxes in slow motion while watching TV. Fritz looks at me with his hug-me-I'm-yours-look, tongue sticking out, and wags his tail…I’ll wiggle my tail, too, if I have one.