on life and men and the UFC

[i am back. to blogging, that is. i am not sure who reads me, but i know why i write. i write to clear my mental chatter. i write to rationalize my emotional ambiguities. mainly, this is where i spoil my randomness, lest i drive people around me insane by how i could go from here to there without warning.]

i like sports. well, ok — i like watching but i watch with such conviction, i scare myself a little sometimes and impress the initiated. my love for sports (wow, i say it like i actually play one… ) occurs in what i call phases. once, i was on a tennis phase — i was ready to profess my love for carlos moya and pete sampras. when i lived with my cousin who was into golf, all it took was a little ‘explanation’ from him, and i found myself spending a few extra minutes on a golf coverage when i channel surfed. basketball is a phase that never really goes away. although i watch the PBA and the NBA only when my teams are playing, i do keep up with the team standings and keep an opinion on trades and other controversies. (go, celtics!) i have also probably seen all of manny pacquiao’s fights  — including that fight in an open area in thailand, when manny was hardly a star, but definitely already impressive.

and now, the UFC. i am thoroughly entertained by it. and no, i am not one of those bandwagon fans that cheer for the favorite or the more attractive fighter. (because it’s embarrassing) don’t get me started, but i actually know my favorites. i remember my late mom getting so worked up whenever i watched MMA matches. she found it violent and feared that i was secretly blood-thirsty. rawr!

so anyway, the beautiful Georges St-Pierre gave Josh Koscheck a beating yesterday. aren’t men just an interesting lot? they trash talk and beat each other up in their skimpy trunks. then someone wins, of course — and they hug and kiss each other, whisper praises into each other’s ear, and sing each other more praises on the microphone as if they had not just each tried to mangle the other person minutes before that.

but really. sometimes, men are just the coolest. now i still wouldn’t want to be one, but there are a couple of things girls can actually learn from them and from mixed martial arts. i can not, for the love of me, imagine two girls going at it, and then hug and pat each other’s back for a catfight well-done. and when women talk nasty — they mean it. they aren’t just hyping it up; they are seriously out to ruin your reputation and your life.

if i try a little harder, i may even say that the UFC may be an interesting commentary on how life is supposed to be. you know, like here, the fighters pick men their own size. in the real world, a lot of people win over others who did not even have a shot to begin with. and they dare call themselves great.

the better fighters try to beat the opponents in their own game. they’re deliberate, and studious. life is like that. there is some level of pleasure in beating people where they believe themselves to be good at.

i wish life allowed us to tap out. you know, just tap out when you think you’ve had enough and save yourself from more hurt. for anyone who understands, it isn’t cowardice because it’s all part of the game. it’s a lifesaver at your beckoning.

and when cain velasquez knocked out half-man-half-concrete brock lesnar — i think it showed how, sometimes, there’s a way to beat the scary.

so do i watch the UFC to bask in all this art imitating life? nah. i’m all for the throw downs and watching the loud mouths get submitted. and it doesn’t hurt that kenny florian is too cute.

“guess how much i love you”

[tomorrow is the anniversary of the day that turned my life around. up to this day, there are still a couple of things that make me both miserable and angry about the time when i felt my faith failed me. but in the spirit of letting go and still being faithful, i remind myself of how at least, my mama bade me more than a decent goodbye. she left me with three sentences, which i play in my mind over and over on really bad days. i have to remember them to save my life.

Guess How Much I Love You is something i share to my students whenever i find a chance; no one in my classes has ever known of this story prior to my telling them. when i told mama this story, i was all surprised, proud and heartened when she actually guessed Big Nutbrown Hare's last line. today, i read this story again after a long time and i am reminded of how even in her death bed, i (like Little Nutbrown Hare) couldn't outdo my mama.]

Guess How Much I Love You by Sam McBratney

Little Nutbrown Hare was going to bed held on tight to Big Nutbrown Hare’s very long ears. He wanted to be sure that Big Nutbrown Hare was listening.

“Guess how much I love you,” he said.

“I don’t think I could guess that,” said Big Nutbrown Hare.

“This much” said Little Nutbrown Hare stretching out his arms as wide as he could go. Big Nutbrown Hare have even longer arms. “But I love you this much,” he said.

“Hmmm. That’s a lot,” thought Little Nutbrown Hare. “I love you as high as I can reach,” said Little Nutbrown Hare.

“I love you as high as I can reach,” said Big Nutbrown Hare.

“That is very high,” thought Little Nutbrown Hare. “I wish I had arms like that.”

Then Little Nutbrown Hare had a good idea. He tumbled upside down then reached up the tree trunk with his feet. “I love you all the way up to my toes,” he said.

“And I love you up to your toes,” said Big Nutbrown Hare swinging him up over his head.

“I love you as I high as I can hop,” laughed Little Nutbrown Hare, bouncing up and down.

“But I love you as high as I can hop,” smiled Big Nutbrown Hare—and he hopped so high that his ears touched the branches above.

“That’s good hopping,” thought Little Nutbrown Hare. “I wish I could hop like that.”

“I love you all the way down the lane as far as the river,” cried Little Nutbrown Hare.

“I love you across the river and over the hills,” said Big Nutbrown Hare.

“That’s very far,” thought Little Nutbrown Hare. He was almost too sleepy to think anymore. Then he looked beyond the thornbushes, out into the big dark night. Nothing could be farther than the sky.

“I love you right up to the moon,” he said and closed his eyes.

“Oh, that’s far,” said Big Nutbrown Hare. “That’s very, very far.”

Big Nutbrown Hare settled Little Nutbrown Hare into his bed of leaves. He leaned over and kissed him goodnight. Then he laid down close by and whispered with a smile. “I love you right up to the moon—and back.”

on what would have been her 61st

Only a few days from now will be what used to be one of my favorite days. It would also be when I’d start counting down the days to my own birthday, something mama had always made fun of me for. My mama would be 61, and I’d still be the more excited one between us, because for several years before she died, she had made a tradition of giving ME a present on HER birthday.

Now I do not want to forever be the girl whose mom died and I do want to be able to stop talking about her death. But if anyone is really my friend or if anyone ever really knew me or mama, he will have to allow me to hold on to whatever is left of the best gift God and life have ever given me.

Mama was my happy thought. She still is my happy thought. With much struggle and help from many people, I have made some considerable progress at letting go, and moving on, and believing (without much rational understanding and with all the hope that my broken heart is able to muster) that everything happens for a reason. Not that any reason could ever make me whole again. I’m not sure I am even interested.

A day has yet to pass without me crying and talking to mama as if she could hear me; if the ‘rules’ in the afterlife allowed it, I’m sure mama had been listening. I have yet to make dinner without hoping I could have mama over the phone to ‘talk me through eating alone’. I have not stopped dreading weekends, when I have to go home and not have mama expecting me. I miss getting random treats, just because mama thought ‘it’s cute and I might like it’. I miss mama’s stories, and random musings. I have yet to really enjoy a happy thing or circumstance without wishing I could call mama and share it with her.

I have yet to stop thinking mama has been helping me out in my answered prayers and lucky haps lately.

I have yet to bring myself to delete mama’s phone number.

I have only just started to pray again.

Dreams have been a-plenty lately and mama is in each and every one of them. I’m not sure what to make of them, but I’d like to believe mama knew I was lying when I told her to stop worrying about me if it was already too difficult for her. I’d like to believe mama knows how I’ve always needed her. I’d like to believe mama kept true to her explicit promise of ‘babantayan at aalagaan pa rin kita’. Truth is, I basked in being her daughter. I basked in the comfort and security that came with her love.

I don’t need anyone to cry for or with me. Mama’s death is my tragedy. The story of my life has taken a lonely turn; it doesn’t get rewritten. I’m still a little interested, albeit passive, about how the story turns out; but for now, what gets me by is reading through the past over and over, because there were too many good and happy parts.

Happy birthday, mama.

mini-strategies

• when in traffic, take time to sleep. or interview yourself. the forced silence when you have to sit alone could help you in reevaluating your self.
• when you have to wait in line anywhere, and you have time to spare anyway, wait. there is a good chance that you’d end up buying only half of whatever is in your basket or cart. you know: needs versus wants.
• when reading something, and you own the book anyway, write marginal notes. or keep a little notebook to jot down little bursts of ideas, sentiments or realizations. it’s always nice to be able to take away a little something from whatever you read.
• when you feel like eating but you aren’t quite sure what you want to eat, walk around and see all your choices. by doing so, you’ve already eaten with your eyes. if you’re lucky, you’d realize you aren’t so hungry afterall.
• when shopping for toiletry, buy the smaller sizes. if you like what you bought, you’d use it to the last drop and could always buy again. if you don’t like or grow tired of what you bought, at least you don’t waste an entire 200 ml. bottle of shampoo.
• when you feel like splurging on restaurant dining, try something or somewhere new every so often.
• when you cannot help but wash your hands more often than you think you should, put in a drop or two of moisturizer with your hand soap.
• if it doesn’t feel right to say yes, don’t. resentment is a lot of weight to carry around.

Mama, this is what i lost

I lost my favorite person in the world. I lost my favorite person to hug. I lost my comfort and my strength and my confidence and my reason for everything.

I lost the person I could and would talk to for and about everything. I lost my biggest fan, as well as my best-meaning critic. I lost my quietest but most encouraging cheerleader.

I lost the only person I can say anything to, without any fear of being judged.

I no longer get the phone calls that wake me in the morning; there are no more missed calls I hurry to return at lunch time and some time else in between, lest you worry. And I have no one else to call when I get home to an empty unit at day’s end. I lost the person who checks on me like I’m the most precious thing.

I lost my favorite date for weekend lunch. I lost my favorite shopping companion.

I lost the person whose opinion and approval matter most.

No matter what people say, I am really no longer somebody’s somebody. I don’t belong to anyone anymore, and that is the worst part.

i wonder…

what happened to my jazz dance teacher. i took classes when i was a kid. i wasn’t any good. i learned that one pretty early on. you accept it when you tend to bounce and hop, instead of glide and slide. whew.

why students nowadays think they are too cool for school. that’s just uncool.

why some people feel so entitled. like the world owes them.

how i could learn to bathe FASTER.

how you answer the question: “Miss, is it okay if I don’t do as you say?” and “Miss, is it okay if I do it my way even though you’ve pretty much spent so much time teaching us a pattern of organization?”. Of course students don’t say it that way. But do they ever mean it? Many, many, many effing times.

why I cannot stop touching my ears.

why it’s just so good to eat breakfast food at lunch and dinner time.

whether i was a good leader or a good bully in high school. maybe it’s the former. or maybe my classmates just loved eating for free and didn’t mind that i was pushing them around a bit

why i even bother setting the alarm clock when i awake at 4 a.m., whether i mean to or not anyway.

what i’m doing here blogging when i have essays to mark and an exam to finish.

who really cares?

if life were a song…

1. IF SOMEONE SAYS ‘ARE YOU OKAY’ YOU SAY?
number one – john legend (better than OKAY. hay naku.)

2. HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
the last time – keane (??? yeah. didn’t get that either.)

3. WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A LOVER?
the dynamo of volition – jason mraz (dynamo? volition? what?)

4. HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
breakeven – the script

5. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
love isn’t – same same (sabi ko na nga ba e…)

6. WHAT’S YOUR MOTTO?
make it mine – jason mraz (yeah. way to go, self!)

7. WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
realize – colbie caillat

8. WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
kissing a fool – george michael (ha??! sus. kala lang ni mama ‘yun)

9. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
love bug – jonas brothers (grabe… love bug na, jonas brothers pa.)

10. WHAT IS 2 + 2?
free – brooke white

11. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
I hate this part – pussycat dolls (sorry gina. sorry marifi )

12. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
starlight – muse (eherm. celestial.)

13. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
northern star – melanie c. (i was gonna say ‘to just grow up’)

14. WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
have a little faith in me – john hiatt

15. WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
breakfast at tiffany’s – deep blue something (naks. can’t wait to be wed. este, to dance.)

16. WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
you can’t always get what you want – rollingstones (hay naku, I know, ok? I know.)

17. WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
innocent – our lady peace (weh.)

18. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
ooh child – hall & oates (right on. )

19. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
show stoppin’ – danity kane (yeah, I’m a born diva. I’ve always suspected that.)

20. WHAT DO YOU WANT RIGHT NOW?
make up – jesse mccartney (e may jonas brothers na nga e. jesse mccartney naman wehehe!)

21. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
only human – jason mraz (of course, right?)

22. WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
broken strings – james morrison feat. nelly furtado

INSTRUCTIONS:
1. Put your iTunes, Windows Media Player, etc. on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS. DON’T LIE.
4. Tag friends (me also, so I can see your results) or however many you want. Everyone tagged has to do the same thing.

convictions

if i got a dollar for every time i summon or convey or just rustle up a new opinion — i’d be obscenely wealthy. if i double the dollar for every time i truly take up the opinion as a conviction, i’d be more than obscene hee! hee!

i almost always have opinions coming right out of my ears. i do not really expect others to take them up as their own, but i surely do stand by them.

a discussion of Dante’s The Comedy is the reason for this blabbering. i think it makes sense. indifference is a sin indeed.

i usually make my students laugh when i ‘accuse’ them of just sharing in the oxygen of the universe (and therefore, being a waste) every time they could not seem to make up their mind on a yes-no question. they know i mean it, though.

as in the famous epic, there is punishment for those who wouldn’t shed blood or tears for anything.

i may not always be right.

but i take a stand.

and people can count on me to never be on the fence when they need me to be on their side. when i am not on theirs, at least they know it, too. there is peace in truth.

new old poem

i am writing this after a long time of wanting to but deliberately avoiding to write something (i know i could have put that one better…).

one of my new year’s resolutions is to try my best to NOT ENTERTAIN negative feelings too much. and by not entertaining them, i mean NOT TALKING about them.

it’s going to be such a shot. like a three-pointer. from the opponent’s end of the court. with one hand. and eyes shut. could i be any more lame?

i am a fan of venting. to a close (unfortunate) few. and in here. I feel that it keeps me sane.

however, on brighter days (which actually come quite often) and i read the thoughts i have written — i feel like i am doing my existence an injustice by painting such a dreary picture of it.

nowadays, my work is getting to me a little more than ever, and in many years. often i forget that while it is a part of my life, it isn’t my life.

then in occurred to me: if i could avoid venting too much, and just take things in stride a little more, maybe i’d feel more at ease. if i could just worry less and accept that i can not control every thing (no matter how hard i try), i’d see clearer. if i could just allow myself not to be too disappointed by people, i’d feel less perturbed about possibly disappointing others myself.

something (or someone) in the universe is probably sending me this poem. i will be bold to admit that tonight is the first time that i ever really read it. i remember having seen it on too many walls. i remember having seen it on too many notebooks and journal covers and calendars.

i’ve only paid attention now. and what a time to actually read it.

DESIDERATA

(things to be desired)

Max Ehrmann

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

okay. i’m okay.

christmas

…had been fine.

not great, as i had wanted it to be.

but not lame. or lonely. or sad. just fine.

one day in the mall (of all places), i was ‘playing wise’ and shared to someone that recently, what has made me way happier and more peaceful is my resolve to just stop expecting.

no, it isn’t succumbing to mediocrity. or being lame. or losing aim. it’s just that the biggest heartaches i have ever suffered have been caused by my idealism. by my planning. by my counting and placing. it’s the libran in me — obsessive.

but christmas. it’s just one of those things i spend at least half the year waiting for. i couldn’t NOT have expectations.

this one, however, started off kinda wrong. too cramped. too bustling. too full of the unwanted. too different.

i’m sure i was being selfish. but we all are selfish, one way or another. and i couldn’t convince myself that i wanted what or who was around on the one holiday that i treasured like nothing in the world. it was like looking forward to the usual simple warm pie, then getting something so darn different — like fruit cake, which looks fun and bursting. only, that wasn’t what i longed for.

so i have holiday expectations. bite me.

things did get better later on the 24th. more people came. the ones that made this particular holiday what it has always been. i did get my pie…

but really, the child (still very active, in fact) in me, had already been disenchanted. so much so that i have to write about it, or this is going to carry on until the new year.

am i being a brat? of course, i am. i should have known better than to harness expectations.

one night…

…I had the strangest, most unexpected dream –

not because it had characters not present in my life. one is. for some half-sweet, half-sickening enough-already reason.

not because it featured people I do not know. I know those people. i just haven’t seen one in a long time. the other, I have never met, but I know exactly who he is.

not because the events could not ever happen. they could. I just could not, to save my sanity, think of ways they could actually come to be. not now. not even in the near future.

not because it felt surreal. it did not. in fact, it felt too real. when I woke up, I felt like checking the other bedroom in the house, because that’s where they were. and they were making themselves comfortable.

not because I felt differently in that dream. in fact, the dream kind of validated how ambiguous or ambivalent I felt about the very possibility. when I speak about it, I hardly make sense. in the dream, I was exactly that – could not make sense of it all. I did not know what to think or how to feel. that’s just how it is in real life.

I have not been visited by a dream for some time now. the most recent ones, however, have just been either hilarious or ridiculous or weird.

I remember one where I supposedly lose all my hair. I woke up crying; I also did not wash my hair that morning.

in another, I miss a deadline at work and do not know what to do. that’s just ridiculous – I always know my way around a missed deadline (wink!wink!)

but this one was different. it wasn’t sad or tragic or heartbreaking. they say you dream of the last thing in your conscious mind before you retired: i remember thinking of what to wear for a dinner date with friends the next day. some say you dream of what lurks in your subconscious: my subconscious is way more interesting than I am then. and more positive. and less afraid of herself. darn it.

but it was all good. I think I actually am getting better.

I liked it that I was not a different person in that dream. I liked it that nothing and no one felt unfamiliar.

I liked it that there, I thought and felt the same way I’ve always expected I would.

I liked it that in that dream, half of my questions seem answered.

I liked it that while it didn’t end happily, it really didn’t end at all.

characters

I spend a considerable part of my existence in the workplace. it has to be a longer debate how much of my actual life is devoted to my work, because as I grow older (and maybe a tad wiser), I have been finding myself particularly STRICT about expending extra time at work than what is officially expected.

it’s something I hold especially important. I am never frugal on effort, but I do resent it if work takes away time I should already have for myself or the people or activities that matter to me and my sanity. the corporate or professional slaves call it lack of commitment. I call it trying to strike a friggin’ balance. I am a teacher, so anyone who starts talking commitment with me better be ready for a spanking discussion.

so anyway, the workplace is always an interesting object of analysis. I could attempt to be highly cerebral and call it a paradigm of life itself. paradigm of life my ass. I am glad there’s a life outside of work. the hodgepodge of characters I have ever gotten to work with and/or still get to work with every day is enough to test one’s rationalization, patience and sense of humor. I am not complaining. I am just saying.

there are those who are a gift to work with. they are those who let you rave about the little achievements in the classroom. they are those who could listen to you rant a little every so often, because sometimes all you need is someone who really understands where you are coming from. they do not offer advice, until you ask for it. they do not rush to lecture you on their teaching philosophy, as if to illustrate that you had better adopt it to alleviate your classroom worries. they do not make you feel like your difficulties as a teacher are a mere result of your incompetence. they understand that it is one (beautiful) thing to share ideas, but it is another to encroach on another’s teaching style or approach. they allow you to say that you are tired and that there are students who deserve a little less tenderness. they know that ‘delegation of responsibility’ means doing your part of the job well and expecting others to do the same. they respect experience but welcome innovation. they understand that while we are here for the long haul, we aren’t here to make endless acts of charity – so that pay check better come on time OR OF COURSE, I SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO RAISE HELL. or again, to just rant a little.

there are those who are either ass-kissers or just plain too forgiving. they are the ones who always have an excuse to offer for someone’s (or a department’s) incompetence. one can screw up on an important assignment but they would still give him credit – for at least finishing it. they let friendship cloud their judgment, so you end up having ineffective meetings because their friends just cannot stop trying to be funny nor take the darn thing seriously. I like them as my “boss” because I am pretty dedicated, but sometimes, I wish they could just see things as they actually are. and those friends? really. NOT FUNNY.

there are those that are either obscenely cheeky or just insensitive. they take up a lot of space and deprive others of theirs, and they think it’s fine because they were there first or they are used to having it that way. they think their troubles should be everyone else’s and their tasks are so darn important they take it as a license to bother or delay you while you attend to yours. oh the name is just rolling out of my fingers….

there are those who think competence comes with age and seniority. I respect my elders or my seniors. but when they act as much as they feel they are the boss of me, I have a problem with that. when they try to get away with irresponsibility or taking advantage of others just because they’ve been there longer than me, I go thinking. whatever it is they have to say to you, they do so in a manner that’s either condescending or awfully patronizing. whatever your problem is: they have been there and they have done that. but who is actually asking?

there are those who are just cloying. nauseatingly sweet. sickeningly upright. they never get angry. everything should be settled with kindness and calm. you raise your voice a little – are you angry? you speak in a pitch that’s higher than usual – are you angry again? you walk in not smiling – oh, are you in a bad mood? you tell a student off – you are just plain horrible. they think the less transparent you are with your emotions, the better a person you become. see, we are different from each other. but never try to convince me that by acknowledging my emotions and by losing my temper sometimes, I have to be sent to an asylum. CLOYING. you know, like chocolate. you think it’s all good and sweet. but it really can hurt you bad. rawr!

there are those whose memory is a little questionable. they REMEMBER you when it’s convenient. like when they need your editing skills. or your stuff. or when they need you to answer a question for them. give it a few minutes though, and you and they are back to being total strangers. the things we do to survive. it’s almost too predictable.

work is good. imagine life if we were all the same

new favorites

josh hoge

artists: josh hoge, one republic, the script

songs: 360, living for the city, stop and stare, the man who can’t be moved

oishi’s PODS vegetarian pea snack (wink! wink! vegetarian…), danish cookies

using two teabags in one mug

5 and more

5 beautiful things to smell

1. elizabeth arden green tea, clinique happy, baby powder
2. the smell of the early morning
3. fresh sheets
4. a new book
5. freshly-baked bread

5 beautiful things I am looking forward to

1. christmas dinner
2. a trip to japan in december – hopefully
3. mom choosing the oven she wants for Christmas
4. buying a gift for myself
5. shopping for little somethings for Christmas (still)

5 songs I have on repeat right now

1. signed, sealed, delivered – blue/stevie wonder
2. underneath the stars – mariah carey
3. happy ending – mika
4. as – george michael/mary j. blige
5. across the universe – beatles

5 things… again

it has been almost 2 years since i last did THIS, which i found HERE.

two days ago, someone almost ruined my day by making a comment, which (to give her the benefit of the doubt) was perhaps just an honest and innocent remark gone bad. however frank some people say i am, i insist that i actually just speak a part of my mind. as i grow older, i find that i do edit myself a lot. if i didn’t, i would have less to vent on this journal (or mom, or my niece, or my cousins..).

so when a person speaks to me for the FIRST time and tells me that she “never thought that i was nice and sweet to my students because i didn’t look like it” — i do not know how to feel exactly. did she actually believe that was a compliment? so how far has she actually judged me prior to making that comment? and why the hey does the burden of speaking first to people rest on me? why do they not try approaching me first — for a change?

i bit my tongue so hard then it almost bled. well figuratively. i am older now, and even though i can’t say i don’t care — i am deciding not to dwell on people’s fickle minded tendencies. i am deciding to stop being bothered and just look at the better side of things.

for days now, i have been getting text messages and email from students thanking me for the grade they got, and lots more of the words a teacher could not help but be touched and inspired with — all mush and schmaltz taken. of course no thanks was necessary: they did all the work and they were graded based on that.

so really — if i do not look so kind, who cares?

my list of this week’s bright spots:

1. Johnson’s daily calming body wash. does work.

2. sleeping in.

3. dinner with a friend i work with but haven’t really seen much of during the last few days of the recent semester. there was much to chat about and catch up on — gossip, rants, classroom stories, etc.

4. red toe polish.

5. Ray LaMontagne’s music.

my students…

ROCK. did well on the departmentals. gave good speeches. i am almost like a proud mama. it’s embarrassing.

that’s it. i just have to remember

uh yeah, that’s the point…

Two nights ago, when I was supposed to be doing something more important, I decided to watch (really watch) this primetime drama on TV. Mom was there, frustrated at how I could not shut up and annotate. I blame rizza, my cousin. She’s a smart ass. I take from her.

So anyway, in the scene were a major heartthrob, a former local showbiz heartthrob who is here again but is kind of stuck in his time, and this beautiful but unbelievably pale actress. In the story, the girl is a hesitant fugitive. The scene had her trapped among people who wanted to protect her from the dangers of being in jail, those that just honestly believed she deserved to be in jail and those who just wanted her dead. Pretty intense, huh? Then the characters had to speak:

heartthrob stuck in his time: (panting, not sweating, standing chest out) miguel, si catherine?

major heartthrob: (panting, sweating a little, very cute) nakatakbo siya, pero hindi ako sigurado kung safe siya!

heartthrob stuck in his time: (after 3 seconds or so) miguel, si catherine, kailangan natin siyang mahanap!

me: (incredulous) uh, duh. oo nga. obvious ba? you’ve been doing that for the longest time, haven’t you all? you really had to state the freakishly obvious?!

cousin rizza: (erupts in laughter) bakit gano’n si gabby? komang?

these local TV dramas are just something. and don’t they all still subscribe to the conventions pretty well? when you hear something strange and scary, don’t stay put – go check out what it is. and don’t turn on the lights…

me: when I get to direct one of these things, I will make the characters act normal. when you talk, you sit down facing each other. that’s how normal people discuss. they don’t stand, grab a glass of whisky, look far away, and deliver a poem. you sit down.

cousin rizza: but make the characters do a song and dance at the end, ok? and make the last scene a jumping shot. at the beach, where they all jump on cue, then shot freezes!

Yeah. Will do exactly that

words words words

so i have found a love theme. if only i can find a (the) man who’s half the cornball to sing this with me. or for me. they don’t write songs this way anymore. (dream a little dream of me, the mamas & the papas)

Stars shining bright above you
Night breezes seem to whisper “I love you”
Birds singin’ in the sycamore tree
Dream a little dream of me

Say nighty-night and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me
While I’m alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me

Stars fading but I linger on dear
Still craving your kiss
I’m longing to linger till dawn dear
Just saying this

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me

and this is my ‘leave-me-alone-i’m-being-happy-solo’ song… (pocketful of sunshine, natasha bedingfield)

I got a pocket,
Got a pocket full of sunshine
I got a love and I know that it’s all mine
Do what you want,
But you never gonna break me,
Sticks and stones are never gonna shake me

and this. this. how much more in denial can a girl be? (you’re in love, wilson phillips)

Open the door, come in
I’m so glad to see you my friend
Don’t know how long it has been
Having those feelings again.

And now i see that you’re so happy
And ooh, it just sets me free
And i’d like to see us as good of friends
As we used to be

You’re in love
That’s the way it should be
’cause i want you to be happy
You’re in love, and i know
That you’re not in love with me
Ooh it’s enough for me to know
That you’re in love
Now i’ll let you go
’cause i know that you’re in love

i’m still thinking why i like these words. (undiscovered, james morrison)

You see the look that’s on my face
You might think I’m out of place
I’m not lost, no, no, just undiscovered

Well the time it takes to know someone
It all can change before you know it’s gone
So close your eyes and feel the way I’m with you now
Believe there’s nothing wrong

You think that I want to run and hide
I keep it all locked up inside but I just want you to find me

this song is probably one of those that i loved because of the words. i listen to it when i am sad or lonely, or frustrated, and i truly feel better. (chasing pavements, adele)

If I tell the world,
I’ll never say enough,
Cause it was not said to you,
And that’s exactly what I need to do,
If I’m in love with you,

Should I give up,
Or should I just keep chasing pavements?
Even if it leads nowhere,
Or would it be a waste?
Even If I knew my place should I leave it there?
Should I give up,
Or should I just keep chasing pavements?
Even if it leads nowhere

i wanna write songs. i’m in that phase. wow.

another semester ends

i have a problem with endings. my endings, i mean.

of course, if it were a movie or a story — i can not wait for it to end. same is the reason that i can not be made to watch TV series that go 30 minutes a day for months. no freaking way. i’d watch the final 3 or 4 episodes, and i realize that i didn’t really miss a lot.

so anyway, what i have a real problem with are the endings in my own life drama. see i take time to get comfortable and warm up to anything, or anyone for that matter. when i do get settled into the mush of things, i invest — time, concern, effort, commitment. i am in there hook, line and sinker.

while most of last semester had been a breeze, a part of this recent semester was kind of a struggle. i had some really fun and funny classes. but i had this one class that i just couldn’t seem to break into. they’re quick to withdraw and resort to silence than any other class i have had in the past. motivating them was as easy as checking out my ear — without a mirror. tardiness and absence there wasn’t an exception; it was the rule. at one point, i felt that they drained whatever happy spirits i bring in every single time. eventually, i became a little too quick to anger around them. frustration equals indignation. many times, i felt sick minutes before i had to attend the class. twice a week, i went home emotionally tired. definitely not a walk in the park, this class was.

this same issue was what made me dread the ending of the semester. i wanted more time. i wanted to do better by them, although i felt i had given them my best. i wanted to make sure everything i did has not been in vain. i needed to make sure they weren’t as ‘tired’ as i was.

there really is peace in praying. i am not religious, but i believe in asking the universe what i want or need. i was heard.

the last meeting had been appeasing. my students tried and did their best. never i mind about some that just went through the motions as if they had already made the grade — there are always those sort of students in any class. my students gave me reasons to compliment them, and they looked proud of what they have accomplished. in their exam papers, many expressed what i hoped with all my sanity they would soon realize. it was probably one of the few times that i saw my students in that class looking happy, instead of just relieved because another speech class session is over.

i’m happy.

oh money

just a thought: would anyone really want to get out of a maze like this one?

hmmm… yeah. i hate standing, too.

note to self: make this one out

parts of jason mraz’s song, ‘details in the fabric’. i’m sure that somehow, this makes relevant sense to me…. will keep ME posted.

Are the details in the fabric?
Are there things that make you panic?
Are your thoughts results of static cling?
Are there things that make you blow
Oh, no reason, go on and scream
If you’re shocked it’s just the fault of faulty manufacturing

sick but stoked

This year's tree is pretty

yesterday, i welcomed another bout of colds, headache and cough — exactly how it has always been a few weeks before my birthday.

i am getting another year older (none the wiser, i feel) in a few shakes. i am again feeling ambiguous about it. but i’ve decided to stop being so introspective and just live by the moment. all the planning has given me loads of frustration in the past, and for the first time in a long while — i have resolved to just be happy.

i have more than enough to be happy about. this weekend has especially been an enjoyable one. we (well, cousin rizza for the most part really) spruced up the little house with as much christmas decor as our walls could carry. i just love christmas, and everything that it brings with it — family, the decor, the cheer, the presents (gotten and given), the out-of-town trips, the planning, the food, the splurging (and eherm… the jessica mcclintock i’m getting)…

i just love christmas. and you would probably cringe at how giddy i am writing this.

so there. i have none much to write about. i am just so looking forward for christmas. and yeah, turning 31. whatever.

affirmation

this isn’t a rant at all, but last week was not the best week. I felt STRESS in all its forms.

not that I mind so much. I am not so calm and laid back a person, in the first place. I do sweat the small stuff sometimes. that’s how I’m built. all those self-help books lose business with me. I am emotional, and I do not apologize for it.

a bad last straw however came in some little talk that, I learned, was made about me.

I scolded a student. I did lose my temper, and the poor girl got a mouthful. Some people supposedly thought the situation should’ve been resolved in a way that did not include telling off and speaking out.

I disagree. I understand, but was still a little hurt that out of all the amounts of kindness and genuine serious concern that I afford my students, some people still chose to define my person by that singular (warranted) outburst. She had it coming. It was not like I got angry at the drop of a hat. I am not the sweetest person. So sue me. But I am not evil.

• I make my students laugh.
• I make them feel good about themselves and forgiving about their own shortcomings.
• I share with them lessons I wish I had learned earlier in my life.
• I do all I can to make learning significant and relevant.
• I strive to be able to call them by their name.
• I try hard to make them feel that just a tad more hard work is going to solve things when I see them resigned to mediocrity.
• I even dare say, but without resentment, that the time, money and energy I spend on my students are worth more than double of what I actually get paid for.

All that, and I cannot get angry when a student lies to my face and causes me potential problems that would be beyond my control to solve? I don’t get it at all.

Unlike others, I do not always choose to simplify. I do not believe in punishing to substitute for making sure a student learns lessons on honesty, responsibility and respect for other people’s time. It’s like spanking your child — not to hurt him, but to drive home a point. To take the offered resolution is like punishing, without consideration of whether the more important lesson was learned at all.

In the end, I think the child understood why I had to take to the rod. I see it. I didn’t break her.

I also got flowers, from someone I am yet to know.

I met a group of students who told me they missed my class.

Now I realize this – as long as my students get it, I do not have to be the unruffled, most unperturbed teacher on earth. I can’t be cool and care at the same time. I just can’t. If I do not get so rich in this job, I had better do enough to at least make the world a tad sadder when I’m gone.

do we really not care?

today in class, i had a student say ‘i don’t care’. not to me, but in the context of a little friendly teasing he got from the class. anyway…

see, i have a problem with people saying ‘i don’t care’. i am never so convinced. in the recent times i had said ‘i don’t care’, i found myself qualifying it by saying ‘well, i do care — i’m just not going to stress over it if you’re not willing to stress over it yourself’.

am i nuts? pretty much. or maybe that’s how it is.

we always say we don’t care what people say. then we spend sleepless nights worrying over impressions people get of us, and wish they would see through us.

in fits of anger, we always say we don’t care how we make people feel. they deserved some telling off, we even add. i know i have built a reputation of being outspoken, but there is always a tinge of guilt when i know i have hurt someone’s feelings — no matter if the person had it coming. i may not decide to apologize immediately, but i would definitely be on the lookout for something positive about that person.

it’s liberating to say ‘i don’t care what happens. this is my life and i would do what i want to do with it.’ maybe so. but my life is never just my life. i realize i affect people and people’s lives, in small or big ways, with things i do or say.

so really, i can’t NOT CARE. i always do. if i didn’t, my life would have been a helluva lot more convenient. and maybe, i would have absolutely nothing to blog about.

tuesdays (and fridays) with…

well hello… ME.

there are days that we like. those we don’t. those we dread. those we feel ambiguous about. days that just pass insignificantly.

my tuesdays and fridays are my better days. i don’t have to wake up too early, and i get to go home early enough for afternoon TV. fridays are also a prelude to a weekend at home. i always look forward to that.

mondays are days i wish would come at least a day later.

wednesdays are like breathers. but only after having to beat the 7 a.m. call. whew.

thursdays are always busy. i’m most tired on thursdays.

saturdays are… i don’t know. i just count the hours ’til i finally get to see my bed again. yey.

never for the sake of

the night before i was supposed to be a bridesmaid in my former student’s wedding, i had THE conversation that i felt was constantly looming over me eversince i turned 30. how predictable. a student getting married before i. ugh! (i love you, anyway, joyie…)

it is THAT conversation that makes reunions less fun. or another wedding in the family dreadful to attend. like a rainfall waiting to have me drenched, just when i’m already hating my hair. like a zit that appears just when i’m already feeling bloated. i could overwhelm you with the profundity of my concept of tragedy…

the view from MY row

anyway, i felt it coming the second my tito asked whose wedding it was going to be. when i said the bride was my student (and not a friend from school — which is how things are supposed to happen), i knew the lecture was a few breaths away.

then out came the words of wisdom. that i wasn’t getting any younger. that i might not have babies. that the mind was put higher than the heart, and so the heart can actually be taught. that marriage is not all for love and all that romantic hoopla, but also for security. that above my personal desires or ideals, what i just have to look for is someone who loves me more than i do him. that if i don’t hurry, i might end up marrying for companionship — because that’s all i could offer, and so that’s all i could expect to get.

sounds logical. and self-preserving. clinical, in my tito‘s own words. i am sure he meant well. but i was kind of hurt.

i am not a lost cause. i know i make jokes about how my clock is ticking awfully loud, but i am not counting myself off the list of people who deserve to get their heart’s desire. i know i am not getting any younger; in fact, i am old enough to realize that marriage is not one of those things i could set a deadline for, because it’s the rest of my life that i put at stake.

i think it would be cool to have my turn to be a mom, but if i wasn’t meant to be one, then so be it. that’s what my faith tells me. and i know of people who had children after 30. i’d be 31 in a couple of months, but things happen when you least expect them.

i know that the mind is put higher than the heart, but the heart pumps blood to make everything go on working. i know that a lot of things in life are a state of mind, but one could only convince himself too much. sooner or later, i wouldn’t want my unhappiness creeping up on me — just because i denied it was there in the first place. call me idealistic, but that’s just how i am built.

i believe that marriage is a lot of things. but it isn’t something i would want to do out of fear of being alone. of course, i am scared to death of ending up old and gray and alone — but that’s not less scary than being old and gray AND STUCK.

yes, it sounds comforting to be the one more loved than the other. but i think it’s pretty selfish. among the reasons why i would want to get married is waking up with the one i love next to me, and having someone to hold hands with, and spending idle hours just talking and dreaming, and sharing dinner, and traveling, and having someone to laugh and cry and pray with — among many others. that’s quite a lot to do with someone i am not crazy about. that isn’t going to be fun.

right now, i’m fine. i am okay. i don’t rely on people for my own happiness, because i know what makes me happy. i have been through enough in my little semi-charmed life to know that i have a lot of misgivings with SETTLING. i know i am not one for display, but i am more than someone to marry-already-because-holy-god-she’s-running-out-of-time-have-pity-please.

no, i am not setting myself up for spinsterhood. i’m not. i just haven’t reconciled with the new notion about marriage — as being a PRACTICAL thing. of course i wouldn’t marry a charming but jobless pole to save my single life, but i wouldn’t want to have someone think i owe him for marrying me. that is going to be the worst feeling and no one deserves to feel that way. if this is the reason i am still unmarried, i plead no contest.

i’d marry ____ in a heartbeat

just in case this pretty young thing i live with decides to play this game again, i feel that i have to have my answers listed. this is pretty serious. hardcore. not for the faint of heart.

oh who am i kidding here? it’s one of those ridiculous games people who refuse to do the job at hand engage in. but see, i lost the first time :p                                                                                                  

hers:

House (the doctor)

elliott yamin

will smith

patrick dempsey

i forgot the others….

mine:

tom hanks

anderson cooper!!!

the idol (i’m so embarrassed… or maybe not. ok, no.)

hugh grant

adam sandler

jason mraz

john mayer

kiefer sutherland (what? jack bauer is the man!)

eric menk (right. really.)

michael buble

darn. i have to go get a life now.

in my family, there’s…

mom. she’s the best. she’s a difficult nut to crack, but you’d want her to be on your side when the going gets tough. she likes watching people gorge on things she says she doesn’t anymore enjoy cooking, going to restaurants, and watching all those TV series she never really understands since she sleeps through most of them anyway. she’s the best companion on a lunch out. she’s a great cheerleader. she’s an even better shock absorber. she remembers your favorites and gives them to you — until you grow a new favorite. when i was a child, and she had to leave for work at 4 a.m., she’d wake me up with a hot local porridge or a set of stationery she bought from the nearby store. she is like an emotional spa. she likes french fries and doesn’t get the hype about gourmet coffee. she’s easy to make angry but easier to apologize to. she says she doesn’t obsess over her skin like i do, but slathers on lotion like there’s no tomorrow. she is ALWAYS bothered by her gray hair. she claims RED is her favorite color, but has enough black and navy shirts to last her forever and a day. before retiring to bed and after putting on the usual beauty creams every night, she puts on red lipstick. i bet the maids secretly hate having to wash her pillowcases every time; i know i keep my blanket away from her. you do not want her with you when shopping on a budget; in fact, she doesn’t believe in hunting for bargains. she’s heaven to hug. i love her. she is so much fun.

nene, ma tante. she’s a singleton. she used to make me pretty dresses. she says she doesn’t like being hugged and kissed — but gets jealous when you don’t hug or kiss her. she’s the one that made me believe that people are SUPPOSED TO bring home treats when coming from anywhere at least 3 kilometers away from home. she used to bring me along when she played bridge with her friends; i never got to learn cards. she sings. no, wait. she HUMS. i’ve never heard her sing a complete song. it’s mostly humhum…. whoo… whoo… huuuu…. she makes up melodies, too. she used to pick me up from the university when i had night classes. i’d tell her i’d be off at 7, she arrives before 6, and is pissed off because i took too long when i finally see her a few seconds after 7. she did that every time. isn’t she a darling? she doesn’t like it when people ask her for or about lost things, but she loses things all the time herself — and asks whether YOU TOOK them. awww… she has an obscene reply when you try to ask her to buy something for you, but we never get tired of asking anyway. she either says she has no more bags or she has no more slippers — she doesn’t know what she’s talking about both times. she’s a late bloomer. she got into texting after she got inducted into senior citizenship. she and her phone have been inseparable since. i miss the old her.

manay, another aunt. i think she’s the first to ever call me glory. she’s the mother i’d be kinda scared, but wouldn’t mind to have. she’s actually like a mom to me — we have the same stubbly feet and legs. she’s very proper and very forgiving and very generous and very positive. whew. she always smells like my favorite perfume, and i’m still praying she remembers how i want a jessica mcclintock. she sent me to school, bought me things i never thought i’d have, told me things she probably has almost forgotten. when i was a freshman, she (and tito) visited me at the university dorm every wednesday, then picked me up on friday. she taught me how to fold things really well. she likes the same things i like — only, she likes them cheaper. she gets a kick out of giving, but refuses to buy for herself. she’s the ultimate bargain hunter and haggler. she has always been my yardstick for morality (eherm…), so i decided it was okay to say that someone is kinda ugly when i heard her say the same about someone. of course, you have to laugh and say something nice about the person after you say it, because that’s how she did it her phone calls are always either to make me write a letter of invitation, or to just share some giggly news. or to ask whether i’m riding with her son on monday morning, because she believes i’m such a klutz and i should not be left on my own. she’s kind of correct. she’s really like mom (especially on wanting to smother people with care), only without the temper and the brutal frankness. i’m always concerned about failing or disappointing her, because she’s a perfectionist. aaannnddddd…. she’s giving me a really cool birthday present come october. i’m a lucky cat. yay!

there’s more. this family is big. next up: my cousins. lots of them.

asshole(s)

i am so angry today. and i mean angry. i haven’t been angry in a long time. piqued, maybe. but that’s a little thing. all it takes is a bite into a chocolate bar and i’m really ok.

today, i actually wanted to see someone dead. like drop dead in front of me. of course, i know how evil that sounds. so i’m going to pretend i don’t mean that, and just say i wished i could wring that checker’s neck until his neck breaks. that asshole. i wanted to hurt him — seriously hurt him.

there is no way to make anyone understand this. but just in case — it’s simple. i am thoroughly offended when people assume that they are the boss of me.

i do not have a problem with authority. in fact, most times (because i don’t think the stress is worth it), i’d rather follow than lead. so authority’s fine by me.

but i am in a place (and profession) where the concept of boss is different from regular. i am mostly just accountable to my students. and apart from the usual paperwork and meeting attendance, the academe does not really dictate. if it did, i wouldn’t bother being here.

so it ires me to no end that the people whose task is really just check my attendance feels like i am accountable to them. EXCUSE ME. they should be out of their minds. i am not to explain to them assholes.

seriously. somebody needs to a reorientation to his job description and scope. tell a professor off: NO PROVISION, STUPID. tell me what to do: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! expect me to make your job easier: IN YOUR DREAMS, MORON.

i am still angry. i am not venting on anybody because i do not want to. this needs more than venting off. no one has heard the end of this. just you wait.

I am

HAPPIEST

• When I am home
• When I get to be with mom (and I am not embarrassed to admit how she is my security blanket of sorts…)
• When I share long meals with people I love
• Over lucky coincidences
• Over coffee, a good book, and curl up time
• Around family
• When classes are suspended just when I’ve been praying for them to be
• after a pedi and a mani… cure! (lame ass…)
• When my students have fun in class
• Over Proactiv, a self-heating sauna mask that smells like the ocean, this yummy smelling-shampoo….
• Around my cousins (ermm… and niece — wink! wink!)
• During long drives
• When my students celebrate little (even petty) achievements in class – you’ve got to start somewhere
• Over uninterrupted DVD marathons and chocolate overload
• After winning a witty repartee

GIDDIEST

• When I see toiletries and lip gloss
• Over a new scent
• Over pens and stationery
• When people bring me treats
• Over long showers
• When my song of the moment is playing
• over Jason – which one, I’m not telling… (oh, ok. the idol. i am so corny…)
• When I get that quick phone call
• On a good hair day
• When it’s raining and I don’t have to work and I can go to the mall

BITCHIEST

• In the morning
• On a bad hair day
• When certain people give me unsolicited advice
• At unnecessary bodily contact in public transportation
• When people flood my inbox with recycled forwarded SMS
• When people forget or ignore common courtesies
• Over people missing simple instructions
• Around bootlickers and know-it-alls
• When students become presumptuous or irresponsible, or both (if I’m really lucky)
• At lunch, when I am hungry and people wouldn’t get off my hair
• When people become cloyingly sweet and take it against me that I am not

MOST APATHETIC

• When it isn’t supposed to be my business to care, and people expect me to
• When people are getting a dose of their own medicine, and are actually choking on it
• When people who aren’t family are present in what I hoped (err… expected) was a family thing
• When my favorite aunt talks about my least favorite cousin – like she doesn’t know that I hate her with all my sense and sinew
• About celebrity tragedies
• When people swoon over bea and kris (oh, wait. We’re moving this one up one category…)