Solitude in silence

Feeling a bit frustrated with the cards I am dealt with at the Grindhouse.
I have always taken my responsibilities seriously–even to a fault. I am committed to my job, and very conscious of my output.

So when someone accused me of being “slow” with my work, I took the remarks to heart. I took offense. Not because I can’t handle the criticism but because I know I work hard and I take my responsibilities seriously. So to say I am slow when I am juggling three things at the same time is not only insulting but also disheartening.

This feeling of sadness overtook me last Friday that I had no choice but to leave early and spend time guzzling multiple cups of bitter coffee at UCC, gloating to no one but myself. Imagine men knocking back six packs and beers on a deserted bar, shooting the breeze and maybe cursing whoever might be causing them trouble at work. Well, translate that to a coffee shop and yes, you will have me. I haven’t felt that frustrated in a very long time and for the first time, I decided to re-assess my current standing at the Grindhouse.

Do not get me wrong, I love the Grindhouse and its many crazy inhabitants, but like good ol’ Supes I also have a weakness. I may be always take charge of things and my thick skin might make me come off as a “take-no-prisoners” go-getter, but hey I get emotional too.

During moments like this, I’ve found out that I do well just seething in silence. Somehow, there’s peace in staying quiet, peace that is so elusive when you have a couple of friends giving you advice. For times like this, I automatically shut down and lose interest to any form of human communication. I do well handling rejection and criticism when I am on my own, guzzling coffee and staring in space. Silence — my version of Superman’s Fortress Solitude. Unlike the guy in blue who has to fly to North Pole, all I need is a corner space, newly brewed coffee and the company of myself to escape from it all.

this is what evolution looks like

I didn’t know if I told you, but back when I was in secondary school, I was a hopeless tomboy. See, I studied high school in an all-girls, Catholic school where to be boy-crazy, boorish and loud are considered mortal sins.

But trying to wean away teenagers with raging hormones from the opposite sex is like withholding Cookie Monster from his Cookie: impossible. If you want to have a whiff of testosterone, the girls of St. Anne Academy had very limited options: hook-up with the elementary school boys (a bit euuuw, considering these boys were still fetched by their nannies and most likely to be still drinking milk); seduce the boys from the neighboring school, St. Francis; hook-up with the male teachers, who to tell you frankly aren’t even that good-looking to begin with; and the most desperate of ‘em all — train your attention to the many boyish, androgynous looking students littering the school hallways. And well, I used to be one of those kids.

Back in high school, I think I turned boyish due to these reasons:
1. there were no boys anyway to bat my eyelashes with, unless you count the slightly cute Christian Living teacher with a reputation for quoting verses from the bible or the two Computer Lab instructors, one of whom was very much married but flirting up the students Great Teacher Onizuka-style
2. I didn’t exactly look girly when I was in high school. I was a nerd, with barely any money to buy make-up or those expensive clothes that my classmates used to flaunt in class and was hopelessly awkward with anyone, boys included.
3. My interests were very far from the worries of my high school classmates which was owning the latest Tretorn, collecting stationeries from Gift Gate like the ones decorated with KeroKeroKeroppi, Sazhikibuta, Bad Badtz Maru and Hello Kitty and lastly, never running out of Angel’s Breathe Cologne. I was listening to SilverChair, Nirvana, Greenday, Smashing Pumpkins and the most rockstar of ‘em all…New Kids on the Block I was into drawing and arts and writing poetry. No one seemed to get me. I barely had any friend in school and most of them were weirdos themselves.
4. It was cool getting attention from girls who speak in a lilting voice and getting small gifts like gel pens and stationeries ain’t bad either.

Anyway, one of my closest friends in high school is R. We were dubbed “RL” by virtue of our names and were known to spend time in the bleachers near the auditorium, or seated on the hallway writing poems and practicing air drumming by account of R who was a pretty good drummer at sixteen. We broke a few hearts, along with a long list of school rules.

Of course, college came and we went our separate ways. I got married, got busy with work but we still managed to keep in touch. Got the time to spend with R today and we spent time talking about anything and everything under the sun, most of which are insane senseless chatter between two good friends.

And so, twenty years since I first saw R with her Pippy Longstockings-type braids, we were still good friends. I guess the difference in personality doesn’t really matter much when you have two kids who grew up to discover that the world isn’t actually fair, whether you are boyish or not.

whimsy much?

Taken at Sango, Rockwell.
One of the things I loved about this resto are the many origami creations scattered through out the place. During its early days, I used to shamelessly filch from their collection: paper cranes, flowers and hearts which I then bring to work to put on my dreary desk.

The papers decorating the bamboo stick reminded me of a vast field, filled wit flowers fluttering in the wind. The tiny origami creations, some shaped like fishes, some like crane added a whimsical touch on an otherwise ho-hum decoration.

When I was younger, I used to day dream of a scene featuring of course, melodramatic me emoting on a field of yellow and pink flowers while the guy of my dream slowly walk towards me, clutching a bunch of summer flowers. In my dreams, he will embrace me and say utterly syrupy things that will probably make my knees weak…

…until I suddenly realize that the freaking dream is actually more like a frame-by-frame copy of one of the crucial scenes in the Korean romantic drama, “Spring Waltz”. (I love this drama. In fact, I loved it so much that I used its theme song, “One Love” by Loveholic as one my wedding songs).

Speaking of Yong Hwa, I’ve seen his new drama “Heartstrings” and I wasn’t that moved or interested with his character. This again cemented my hunch that it is not Jung Yong Hwa which I adored but rather Kang Shin Woo who till this day–for me–was one of the best characters ever to come out of SK’s celluloid.

Anyway, back to City Hunter.

City Hunter is the story of Lee So Young, a young MIT graduate from the US who now works at the Blue House for the National Communication Network Team. He is known for possessing elite skills as an I.T. engineer. But behind the so called IT prodigy is a ruthless killer buoyed by a mission to kill five people responsible for the death of his true father.

The thing is, his father and his adoptive father were bodyguards in the Presidential Palace. Following a tragic bombing masterminded by North Korean terrorists, both men were recruited by five high ranking government officials to spearhead a covert mission to kill 30 North Korean high ranking officials in retaliation for the explosion. The two recruited highly-skilled former soldiers who carried out the task with such efficiency, it’s almost cold blooded. The thing is, the five guys changed their minds just when the mission is ongoing because they don’t want to offend the SK-US partnership. In the end, the five pulled the plug on the mission, ordering a hit against the 21 men who risked their lives. The men were killed while attempting to to come close to the submarine which they thought was sent to fetch them.

Lee So Young’s adoptive father, Lee Jin-Pyo survived because So Young’s real father gave up his life by pushing Jin-Pyo deeper into the water when the sniper trained his gun in their direction. Jin-Pyo, fueled by hatred and guided by his promise to his friend that he will avenge his death, stole So Young from his also raises the baby and eventually trains him into an elite soldier.

…THE. FREAKING. END.

Naaaah, am just playing with you. I am sure there’s a lot more that will happen after that. It’s just, the drama aired just last Monday so that’s the farthest being shown to us here in the Philippines. BUT thing is, instead of moving forward I kinda wanted to move back. The back story is so good it’s a shame that it’s ending because the story is now moving of course, to story of the main protagonist played by Lee Min Ho.

I was just impressed with how good the back story was and frankly speaking, I am the kind of girl who easily gets impressed with all the military shite happening on the back story, the submarine, the fake Pyongyang-y buildings, the amazing stunts — give me that in just two days of local airing, and I am hooked. I just hope that (now that the story is exploring the two protagonists) there won’t be too much of the people falling in love and getting gooey-eyed.

looking for inspiration

Just when I thought the grindhouse is the epitome of “boring” and “without any emotion” at all — a great cheer exploded on the busy and paper-filled floor of my penthouse office.

The reason: human resources has declared that Fridays will be–starting tomorrow and every Friday thereafter– will be known as dress down Fridays. With the cheers and the excited chatter that filled up the whole office floor, you would thought that the Queen of England has sent us all letters saying we are now official UK citizens.

For a good 15 minutes, I heard my good ol’ (adorable) office mates excitedly discussing what they can wear, if it’s acceptable to wear a slightly frayed jeans (it’s not — frayed, torn, mangled jeans are not allowed, if flat women’s sandals will be acceptable and so on and so forth you would think we are attending New York effin’ Fashion Week.

Anyway, I was smiling earlier — listening to the inane chatter, feigning coolness. Fast forward a few hours later and yes, I have all my CanCam, Vivi and Nonno magazines scattered on the bed while I scout for ideas.

Yes, this is the highlight of the day. When you lead a predictable 8 to 5 life, don’t even think you have access to excitement and too much action.

smiley!

Day 25

it's not a newly-discovered type of supernatural being -- it's just my cat

The lack of a post yesterday is due to the weird internet connection we have here at home. The firewall kept acting up thus limiting access to the internet. And wow, did I tell you that I managed to be sick again following three days of being confined in bed? Yeah, good times indeed!

I had a great dinner last night with my good friend A at Figaro, our favorite go-to place after a harrowing day at work. Before that, we lined up to try our luck at the local lottery. Who wouldn’t? The pot was already at PHP130M (about 2.8M USD) when we placed our bets and I will be lying if that wouldn’t change our lives. A is the youngest in her family and the breadwinner in the family. At a very young age, she is already showing signs of stress due to too much work. And then, there’s me: more than a decade of being a corporate slave, married for three years, with a savings account that doesn’t really account to much. Imagine what PHP130M can do to change our lives.

Anyway, Figaro has always been our favorite go-to place to de-stress and take stock of our miserable working conditions. Recently we have come to discussing about the person who is revealed to be such a pompous ass it pains us to be even closely associated with him. We talked about how we are working ourselves to our early graves. The funny thing is, after our initial discussion, the waiter (and his adorable dimples) came over and gave us the smiley pin. We can pin that in the tab if we thoroughly enjoyed the service.

Thing is, Figaro has always been a favorite of mine. The Hubby and I went there on our very first date, and that was what thirteen years ago? It has been a part of my life ever since. The fact that it is quiet, no muzak and you can pretty much be in your own cocoon makes it my most favorite coffee shop ever.

The next picture is not a newly discovered specie of monster or supernatural being. That’s Sayuri, our adorable yet utterly crazy cat…sleeping the world’s worries away.

36. Have you watched American Horror Story?
nope.

37. Baseball hat or toque?
One of my secret (which is not a secret anymore) is to be a celebrity chef. So yeah, definitely a Toque!

38. Do you shampoo or soap up first in the shower?
Usage of bath products happen in this order: Shampoo, shower gel, conditioner, feminine wash, facial wash, tooth brush.

39. Wet the toothbrush or brush dry with the toothpaste?
Definitely wet!

40. Pen or pencil?
Pencil = for taking down notes, sketching
Pen = for writing in forms, writing documents

41. Have you ever gambled at a casino?
I haven’t had the windfall yet to use for gambling. Plus, I hate gambling.

42. Have you thrown up on a plane?
On a plane = no
On a bus = yes

43. Have you thrown up in a car?
Yes

44. Have you thrown up at work?
Yes (I was quite ill that time. The puking out led to a three day confinement in a god-forsaken hospital)

45. Do you scream on roller coasters?
Yes

46. How many shoes do you have?
Uhm, as of last count…. 36ish….

47. Who was your first roommate?
My sister. I never went on a dorm or a boarding house

48. What alcoholic beverage did you drink when you got drunk for the first time?
This is so unbelievably so un-posh and pedestrian but a sick mixture of gin and pomelo juice.

49. What was your first job?
I worked as a production assistant for a unknown television channel. The studio was located somewhere in the hinterlands of QC and the salary situation is bleak (i.e. they didn’t know when they’ll start paying us) so after a week, I quit.

50. What was your first car?
A Toyota Trueno AE86 which until know I own in my dreams. To put it bluntly, I have yet to own this beauty!

51. When did you go to your first funeral?
This question is depressing. Prolly when I was a year old, when my granpop from my father’s side passed away

52. How old were you when you first moved away from your hometown?
The correct question in my case is, “how old were you when you first ran away from home? I was 18. I returned after a week crashing on my cousin’s couch.

53. Who was your first grade teacher?
Mrs. Ignacio (Holy Cow! I still remembered her name!)

54. Where did you go on your first airplane ride?
In Bacolod City. Aboard a Philippine Airlines flight.

55. When you snuck out of your house for the first time, who was it with?
Neighborhood friends

56. Who was your first best friend and are you still friends with them?
My first best friend is LMA. Yes, we are still the best of friends.

57. Where did you live the first time you moved out of your parents’ house?
In a little room (no bigger than a dog’s playpen) behind their house.

58. Who is the first person you call when you have a bad day?
The Hubby, of course!

59. Whose wedding were you in the first time you were a bridesmaid or a groomsmen?
An office mate’s

60. What is the first thing you do in the morning?
I check my phone

61. What was the first concert you attended?
Eraserheads, the best Filipino rock band.

62. First tattoo or piercing?
None. Yes, I am still all talk and no real pain to show afterwards.

63. First celebrity crush?
The FIRST and will FOREVER be my celebrity crush: Christopher Reeve

My family and I have huge, deep-set eyes. They were a gift from my forebears from my father’s side — them of the amazing mix of Spanish-Malay blood.

In spite the huge eyes and the absence of any Oriental blood in our family, our interest (especially us kids) lies on the Orient. It is not a secret that I am madly in love with Japanese culture while my sister, the Queen, is fascinated by anything Chinese or Korean in origin.

My parents brought us up respectful and fascinated on the culture of other nationalities. They encouraged us to believe not only our own traditions, but also traditions that mean something to us. So it didn’t came as a surprise when I woke up Sunday morning after two days of fighting with fever and sore throat and saw my mom fixing a wreath made of “kiat-kiats” on our doorstep. “Kiat-kiat” are these tiny orange-like fruit that is the star of every Chinese New Year celebration. Aside from being fixtures on the fruit basket, they are also made into wreaths and used as decoration to signify prayers for abundance.

Dad cooked beef and pork dishes, while in the evening, he served noodles to signify wishes for a long life. Of course, batches of the omnipresent “tikoy” (glutinous rice cake) were fried and served as dessert. Age-old belief dictates that a glutinous or sticky dessert will ensure that a family will always stick together, no matter how far the distance maybe.

We really didn’t go all the way in celebrating the Chinese New Year, we didn’t wear red and I didn’t have red undies on when the clock hit 12 midnight. Thankfully, my mom no longer wore anything polka dot (the polka dot was a symbol for coins, hence it’s one’s wishes for wealth) and she no longer placed bowls of rice mixed with coins in strategic areas around the house.(In a hindsight, she already did all of these during the traditional New Year celebrations). We didn’t get any angpao (red envelope with cash inside) from our elders like what our lucky Filipino-Chinese friends do. But I guess, what is important is that we continue to have each other and that we remain blessed both with our health and with opportunities. Our parents–with the blessings of the Lord–remained healthy, sharp and strong and continued to be the pillars of our family.

Still not feeling well. I can barely swallow due to my sore throat and the head aches kept coming back.
Anyway, being trapped here at home has its perks: for one, not going out this weekend meant that we managed not to spend too much money hanging out. Basically, we spent a lot of money on my meds and I pretty much drained my hubby’s resources due to this illness.

Again, I am blessed to have this person by my side. He never had a proper sleep and rest since he’s been taking care of me for the last two days. Three years into our marriage, I am still surprised on how lucky I am for having this person by my side.

I guess, I posted about his finer qualities before but each time I get sick, I am reminded of how blessed I am to share my life with this person. For the last two days, he’s been checking my temperature, giving me meds at the right time round the clock, changing my sweat-drenched clothes, cooking food to feed me and even massaging my head during bouts with headache. I am sure I have done a lot of bad things in my life, but I am convinced that I have done something right at least once to merit this person in my life.

For all the times when I feel like he is not doing his share in keeping this marriage intact, I am always reminded that I am mistaken. It’s unfortunate that I always see his weaknesses, but I am not aware of his strengths.

So to this person who shared his life with me — I just want to say that I see the little things you do to help our little family, the sacrifices that you make for me…I see you. I always do.

sick and sad

Day 21

not candy

The absence of a post yesterday was due to another battle with high fever and a cough that seems to never go away. I don’t know what happened to me, I used to be really sturdy and I barely get sick. But now, just one wrong move on the AC or out under the sun and I am quickly immobilized.I have a feeling that it’s my body’s way of telling me that it’s been getting quite a beating lately and it’s time to slow down.

The thing is–I can’t. The powers-that-be in the office is after my ass and giving me the third degree due to a slow-moving CSR program. I need to get my PR initiative in order and frankly, there’s just so much to do.

Honestly, there are days when I just wanted to quit and run away from my daily dog-eat-dog world. I feel that I have been working so much for the last thirteen years of my life. I’ve had a job as soon as I left University and I never had any day off or even took time to just chill out. The most break I had is the usual three or four day vacation with my family. And yes, even when I am a thousand miles away, I kept thinking about the work I left at home.

I really need to re-assess my priorities in life. I can always find a job, but the body I had (imperfections and all) is the only one I got. I always tell myself that I wanted to be a mom but if I keep on getting sick, then I can’t be a good mom.