The Doldrums

Yup. That’s where I am.
It could be the emotionally taxing week last week, taking its toll on me now. Nothing out of the ordinary physically, but my head and heart hurt.

I thought that I’d be well-equipped to handle rejection – being in theater and all, one would have to be thick-skinned. I have been prepared, even trained, in rejection. First, it was customary to hear such words of wisdom like “don’t expect/ set your expectations too high” from your father. Then, in school and university, it got to be where you expected, even liked, the mental and physical torture. It was all just a game, and you just have to know how to play. And I played, albeit hesitantly. Even if I was already scared witless or bawling inside, I would remain silent, which people misunderstand for subservience. My ass. Then I would channel that emotion, usually rage, in whatever creative activity I was into.

This time, I am torn by caring and not giving a feck. I don’t want it that bad. It is a good thing, this rejection. This is a sign from the heavens that it is not meant to be, at this moment. Stuff I tell myself.

But I am such a sucker for approval. Sucker.

Pang-Aliw Lang

Unlike others, we almost grew up without pets, if you discount the terrorist geese, suicidal rabbits, and stray cats we had. What I meant is a pet that would actually recognize you and call you his/her friend.

Well, we have a dog now who is actually super-enthusiastic, really wild, when we're around. When we figure out a way to make him calm down and stay put, this will be an idea.

The Pacific Star 7-11 is no Japanese 7-11 Kombini.

Obviously ito ay hindi kuha sa 7-11 Pacific Star

What is up with the cashiers at 7-11 -- particularly those at the Pacific Star Building -- and handing change?

Every time, and I mean, every single time I buy an item or two, I hand my hard-earned money to the cashier properly. It doesn’t matter what kind of store I am – a ritzy boutique, the MRT ticket booth, a sari-sari store, or in this case, a glorified sarisari store like 7-11. I make it a point to hand over my payment directly to the cashier, if he’s holding out his palm; kung meron naming small tray for that, I lay the moolah on it.

Maayos di ba dapat? Mahirap na. Baka kung mailapag ko lang don sa harap niya, me ibang kumuha, o malipad, o manenukan. Now, if I have change, I expect the cashier to hand over my money in the same exact way. Actually, kahit hindi masyado maayos iabot ng customer yung bayad, dapat maayos ng kahera iabot ang sukli – dahil customer yon, at wala siyang business maging kahera kung ia-assert lang niya ang pagka-bargas niya.

And that is my problem with 7-11 Pacific Star cashiers. Every time I have change, the cashier just puts it on the table, on his end. On his end. I have to reach over to get it. And though it is not a really wide stretch, the point is, hindi niya inabot. Correction: Hindi nila inaabot. Lahat sila don sa 7-11 Pacific Star ay hindi nag-aabot ng sukli AT pati na ng binili mo ng maayos.

Buket??!!!

If there is no explanation, then is it just lahat sila may pagka? Trip lang? O baka naman nanlilito? Ilang beses na rin na lumabas ako sa tindahan nila na either nakalimutan ko ang binili ko o ang sukli ko, dahil hindi inabot sa akin.

Next time the cashiers at 7-11 Pacific Star do this, I’ll get their names, and file my complaint in their website. Most especially, I’ll buy my supplies somewhere where the people are more courteous and the stuff more complete.

More Scenes from a Japanese 7-11

Awkward

Normally I don’t chat up the baristas. I usually say a perfunctory greeting, order my drink, pay up and wait for my drink to be ready. But since I’m on an openness experiment, I have dared to be more cavalier with my exchanges. At eto ang resulta:

Int. Starbucks. Lunch break.

Ajumma moment.

I present a free drink coupon/receipt to the new barista in our neighborhood Starbucks. I order a tall coffee thingamajelly frappuccino.

Barista makes small talk. “So, ma’am where did you have your last Starbucks drink (where the receipt came from)?”

Me: “Starbucks Ermita; along UN Avenue, near the US embassy (effort sa pagka-specific ng location)”

B: “Okay ba mga barista don ma’am?”

M: “Okay din. Pero mas okay ang mga barista dito.”

B: “Talaga po?”

M: “Yup. Mas cute.”

B: Flustered. “Ano po?”

M: “Mas cute mga barista dito, hindi ba?”

B: “Ano po?!”

M: “Sabi ko mas cute ang mga barista dito (bingi lang).”

B : Blushing pa-cute. « Ay hindi naman po »

M: Pushing it. “Oo noh! Ikaw cute!” Ngek.

B: Still adamant. “Ay hindi naman po Hindi naman. Hindi naman…” trailing off…

M: “Hehehe. Sige na nga. Bahala ka na jan.”

I skulk and wait for my drink amidst uncomfortable silence.

I don't know which is more awkward: Me, initiating playful banter with a cute barista or the Barista incredulous that someone (me!) on a free coupon would dare flirt with him. Hahahahaha!!!

I don’t have the guts to show up at our neighbor Starbucks just yet, since Barista might wither under my ajumma charm. No worries. There are a couple in our area to practice at anyway. Beware.

Meep Meep Meep is Today's Source of Joy

Share Ko Lang

Sometimes it’s just surprising how life can throw us darts that pierce through our glutinous hearts.

Last night, I slid inside the screening of “A Stranger of Mine”, a Japanese film which is part of our Eiga Sai, and was struck down in my seat by what the character Kanda advised his best friend Miyata, who was wallowing in his depression over being left by his girlfriend. When asked why Miyata was still in his funk and not meeting other girls, Miyata replied that it was just “not the right timing”.

Kanda told Miyata that there is no such thing as right timing --- especially when you’re over 30. You either do it or don’t. You have to be responsible for what you want. And if it’s love that you want, you have to do something about it. Start by getting (an interesting person’s) phone number. A stranger stops being one when you communicate and connect. Start communicating and connecting.

Hahaha. That is a very loose summary of their dialogue. And if you haven’t seen the film, go and see it! Sayang naman, coz it’s free admission. The screening schedules are here.

I digress because this isn’t a catch to watch the movie or other movies in the festival (although marami nang nanunuod, it surely would be nice to have more people see the films and enjoy themselves). This is just a reminder to myself to open up. Yon lang.

Just a reminder.

User Friendly

I consider myself a patient person, especially when it comes to friends. Most of the time, I give them the benefit of the doubt, even if their actions seem contrary. If friends disappoint me, I am quick to forgive and tell myself, it must have been a bad day for them and that they didn’t mean to hurt me.

But if I feel taken for granted or worst, used, I am not one to take it on the chin. I’m not hot on confrontations and despite me being in theater, I don’t want to generate drama and I’d rather walk away and leave that unworthy person in his/her dark place. In short, I wouldn’t be attending choir on Saturdays.

“Sasama ka ba sa ________? Dalhin mo yung sasakyan mo. Ilan kasya sa sasakyan mo?”
- Tintin* volunteers my vehicle for a group outing then gives me P300 bucks for gas. P300 BUCKS!!!

" Uy, uy tingnan mo yung billboard tarpaulin! Nandyan ako! Ang cute ko o, tingnan mo! Tignan mo!”
- Tintin* pestered me while I was driving. I don’t want to see the tarp or you. I can see you from here and you’re not too hot.

“Tingnan mo tong picture o. Ang ganda ko dito.”
- HUWAT?! Ikaw na naman?!!

“Masakit ang tiyan ko.”
- After twisting my arm to attend a birthday party of someone I barely know, she leaves me citing stomachache but returns an hour after. Thank you.

* not Tintin’s real name. She just looks like him.

I’m no fan.
Remember, it’s not all about you.

Things that Make Me Happy

1. When the celebrities interviewed on Showbiz Central tell a lie and John Lapus has to do his dance.
2. Kopi Roti breaks
3. Discovering Angono.
4. Breaking a sweat at the gym.
5. Reading Paulo Coelho and getting a “yes” moment.

Kakaiba

Dahil sa ibang kultura ang ginagalawan ko (more or less :P), nakikita ko ang pagkakapareho at pati na rin ang pagkakaiba ng iba’t ibang lahi ng mga taong nakakasalamuha ko. Karamihan nakakatuwa at nakakatawa; may mga pagkakataong nakakapagod, at paminsan-minsan nakakainis.

Ang pagkakakilala ng marami (isama niyo na rin ako) ay yung mga lahing nakakatrabaho ko araw-araw ay masisipag, galante, masinop, madetalye at magagalang. At totoo naman yon. Karamihan sa kanila ay ganon. Mas lalo na ang mga katrabaho ko dito. Minsan akala ko umuuwi sila ng alas sais, pero sa totoo lang, babalik pa pala sila ng opisina ng alas dies. Ganon lang talaga sila.

Kanina, may tumawag na taga Manila Shimbun. Nagtatanong siya tungkol sa isang proyektong inaayos namin. Ang tanong niya ay ano-ano daw ang mga pangalan ng mga kalahi niyang kasama sa exhibit, at medyo inis pa niyang sinabi na Ingles daw kasi ang pagkasulat ng mga pangalan ng mga kalahi niya dun sa imbitasyon niya. Nung nakausap ko siya, rinig ko yung inis niya na hindi niya masulat ng maayos ang kanyang artikulo dahil hindi naka-kanji ang mga pangalan.

Naintindihan ko naman siya. Nag-offer ako na i-scan ang mga pangalan ng mga artists na kanji at i-email ko sa kanya. Pwede rin naman i-fax ko. Simple di ba?

Pero hindi. Pinilit niyang simple lang ang request niya at hindi ko daw maintindihan yung gusto niya. Ang gusto niyang makausap ay yung kalahi niyang staff dahil simple lang yung gusto niyang itanong. Yung mga pangalan in kanji. E di ba mas klaro kung nakita niya at hindi yung sa telepono lang? Ilipat ko siya sa language specialist namin, alam ba non yung project? Alam ba nun yung mga pangalan kung hindi nila nakita yung original document?

Kaloka. Ang kulit. So pinasa ko sa boss ko. Actually sa assistant ng boss ko. Gambalain ba para sa simpleng bagay? Pero, hindi pa rin sapat na marunong magsalita ng kanyang salita yung kumakausap sa kanya. Bakit hindi na lang niya sabihin na gusto niyang maki-chika lang. Aba’y kung kanji lang ang pinuputok ng butsi niya, e di ifa-fax na, now na. Fax him.

Ang ending, binagsakan niya ng telepono ang assistant ng boss ko. Magalang ba yon?

Sanay ako sa media at hindi naman bago sa akin na pagiging demanding nila. Pero minsan dapat niya ding isipin na ang mga tao dito ay hindi niya tauhan. Mas lalo na ako. Ewan ko kung ano ang dynamics nila sa mga kalahi niya.

Kakaiba talaga.

Hahahaha!!!

I saw this article over at Jezebel.com about modern love. I just enjoyed the writer's words of wisdom kasi may katotohanan :P Especially #3.

"Anyway, as someone who has her fair share of one-night stands and fleeting trainstop encounters, yet is decidedly over my relationship angst, if largely due to the absence of any relationships and the discovery of internet porn.... I would like to give some advice to Marguerite Fields and other women like her. Oh hell we're all like her.

1) Trust your instincts. This is the only thing I learned in therapy. Women have great instincts (the women's intuition!) but we never listen to them. Marguerite Fields, at the end of another unceremonious dumping, writes "[I] tried to remind myself that when we first met I thought he was an arrogant, presumptuous little man." She got bad vibes from the start, and yet Marguerite, a talented and sensitive author who should have known better, proceeded to form a relationship with this man. Why? Because of a little thing I like to term "The Mister Darcy Delusion." I am sure some feminist theorist before me has already coined this term, and if so I apologize, but it's ridiculous that this is your job. The Mister Darcy Delusion is the notion, popularized by the early 19th century author Jane Austen, that the smug asshole who calls you fat at the party is really just a misunderstood studmuffin held in by early 19th century social conventions who will turn into Colin Firth if you give him a chance. Well chicas, Jane Austen died a spinster (thank you, Anne Hathaway) and it's the 21st century, and if he looks like a prick and he talks like a prick and he walks like a prick, well, chances are you've had sex with him.

2) Read "The Rules." It's a stupid book, yes, but it's a reminder that you can take control of your relationships at least partially by a) getting a life b) taking a shower and c) not calling back immediately after he calls and going all crazy on his ass.

3) Only go out for guys that you think are hot. Most women tend to chase after guys that they think are physically unattractive under them is guided assumption that said guy will be so grateful to have scored a Hot Chick that he will be true forever. THIS NEVER HAPPENS. Ugly guys always get laid more, and they are often the biggest assholes about it because they are so insecure that girls keep hooking up with them out of pity. This is a time when our human evolution truly runs counter to our own efficient natural instincts. Ladies, right this wronged system and only chase after guys that you think are LEGIT cute so you don't have to lie to your friends and be like "But he has a really great personality," when what you mean is "It's weird how he makes me feel so terrible about myself when he's the ugly one." - boldtype, my own

Sing a Song, Make a Friend Sing Along

Hindi halata nanggigigil ako sa mike. Hindi.

Have you ever gone to a public place, say a bookstore, and while browsing through the titles, started to sing along with whatever’s playing in their PA system? Aminin… I have many many many times – before. Now, I’m more discreet with tormenting innocent bystanders.

I remembered this because I have encountered many strangers who have broken into song in admittedly song-friendly places – the comfort room, for its acoustics and well, the bookstores, because of their powerful sound systems. Napapadalas lang kaya napapansin ko.

Yesterday, while in the shower room, I overheard a girl sing an unfamiliar OPM tune. In ferview, magaling siya. Feeling ko nga nag-a-audition e. Me kulot kulot pa. Tapos, here in our floor’s communal CR, marami kaming ka-share na taga-call center na kung hindi nag-e-english-english, e kumakanta. Eto, hindi talaga kagalingan, pero who am I to tell other people off? I know how good it feels to sing.

Now, whenever I hear someone singing, I have a compelling urge to sing along with him/her. O di ba, bongga? Impromptu duet? That would make for interesting introductions. My sister almost met someone that way when she followed “25 Minutes Too Late” while looking for the perfect ballpen. While turning a corner, lo and behold, a young man was singing the same song, with voicing :P To those of you who know my sister, ang reaction niya ay ganito :P din. Sayang di ba?

And I heard that when the movie, “Rent” came out in Manila cinemas, there was such a thing as audience sing-along! Oo nga naman. Not a bad idea, if you’ve already watched the musical/movie and just want to enjoy the songs, but if you just want to watch, it must be hell sitting through the movie with a whole bunch of voices trying to interpret the song.

Case in point: I watched Regine Velasquez’s movie with Aga Muhlach (the one where she bikes from Alabang to Laguna and back :P) and when it came to the music video montage to Regine’s rendition of the Eraserheads “With A Smile”, the whole moviehouse sang along!! A couple of bars was amusing, but halfway through the song, I wanted to scream, “Sharrraapp!! Hindi kayo ang gusto kong marinig!!!”

Sigh. Simple lang naman ang patutunguhan nito: Gusto kong mag-sing-along.




Make me happy. Somebody treat me to this.

Gimme a Break. Please.

Since I decided to switch gyms and will discontinue my other gym membership by the end of this month (today!), I’ve been sampling the different amenities of the former gym (let’s call it the Blue Gym) and have been gym-hopping, comparing dressing rooms, TV monitors and lock systems. I will miss the convenience of having a Blue Gym just around the corner, from where I live, where I work, or wherever I may be, but the other gym will save me a handful of hundreds that can go towards other stuff. Something cushy I hope or something to take me awaaaaaayyyyy…

Somehow the predictability of the routine calms me: getting up in the morning, getting to work, pounding on the keyboard, making calls, riding back home. But too much is already BORING. I am craving something different. I need to look forward to something new.

Before, I would incorporate (time) pockets of joy into my routine. Always there would be a departure from my routine – something unplanned and surprising. But because of the workload and/or culture, the deviations from the norm became inconvenient and sometimes irritating.

Am I slipping in ornery manang-hood (as opposed to cool manang-hood)? I’ve been so crabby one time that I told off a boy asking for a peso at the LRT. I am not proud of that.

I need to take a break.

10 Random Things About Me

Got tagged by Nor to reveal incriminating stuff... here goes:

1. When I was 6 years old and we were about to transfer to our new home, I instructed our helper to call my mom "Donya" and me, "Señorita". Epekto ng LVN Pictures.

2. I want my own megabookstore.

3. Even if I like dance, whenever I watch, I fall asleep in 30 minutes.

4. I joined all the academic contests in our subdivision and won. This was partly because I was never asked to be sagala or prinsesita during May.

5. I don't like motorcycles. Or rather, I dislike idiots on motorcycles. They're a deadly combination.

6. I'm torn between freedom and stability.

7. My childhood crushes were Vic Vargas and Shaun Cassidy.

8. Book that changed my (HS) life: Norman Vincent Peale's "How to Win Friends and Influence People"

9. Was a speed reader.

10. Was a secret Duranie in the mid-80s. My walls were plastered with Duran Duran posters.

I am tagging the following interesting friends/ relatives: Shemai, Joyjoy, Rakel, Precious, Salve, Sheila, Cecill and Pam

Me Want Pizza!!!

Commuter Rant

It’s been so hot lately that keeping cool is getting to be a chore. One thing being, I’ve started bringing the car again – at least until the Shaw MRT Station – so that I can arrive at work on time.

For a whole week, I have been tardy and it sucks. Yesterday morning, I waited for the FX Shuttle for one whole hour (add that to the other hour I spent just to get out of our village). It is made worse because nobody can explain this traffic phenomenon in our area. Traffic should have eased up supposedly since it is summer.

I commute to Makati because it is environment-friendly, (relatively) low-stress*, and economical. I don’t have to worry about crazy drivers (me included), hungry cops, parking spots and other responsibilities that go with bringing your vehicle to work. All I have to do is wait for the FX, alight, pay my PhP40-50 bucks, nap for 30-45 minutes, para at my stop, walk a bit and take another FX to the office building.

Now, because of the erratic traffic and shuttles, I am forced to take the car. At least I am not taking it all the way to Makati, not just yet; although I am tempted. Especially when you’re sardine-d in the tin can together with the great washed of this city. Anyway, I always make it a point not to ride in the female carriages, especially during rush hour. All that estrogen and PMS-ing women make for catty and outright bullish behavior.

What I will not miss during these long shuttle rides: the waiting period and the loooooonng lines, being seated next to the driver and being nudged every time he shifts gears, being seated with a hefty co-passenger who decides to own his space, being seated with 3 other hefty co-passengers in the middle seat, sweaty skin touching sweaty skin (and sweat forming under one’s clothes).

* on days not riding the MRT

And since I’m on a roll, may I just ask, why oh why, have I attended my 3^rd wake in a week??!!

Changes

Over the weekend, a Singles For Christ friend enticed me to join a talk on single life and urged me to write about my 5-year plan, what I would like to accomplish before I'm 40.

I feel I haven't really done much so I have to do a lot of things. Cramming eto. Travel to North America, fall in love, raise a family, build my house(s), and of course, the most urgent, clean my room. Not necessarily in that order, but you get the idea. I need a lot of emotional growing up to do.
Five years to an 18-year old is not the same as five years to someone of my age, 32 . Time just whizzes by, that before we know it, I'll be 40... and the tragedy in coming up with a list like that above, is that I'll be that age and nothing to show for it.

Why the angst all of a sudden? Well, it's the realization that you plan and you plan, may visualization pang nagaganap, tapos, biglang something will be taken away. Routines will be rearranged. Your life as you know it will change.

I just learned that a batchmate's husband died. He was only 36. 3 kids. My batchmate is my age.

Early yesterday, a friend texted me that a colleague from the CCP, Sid Hildawa, passed away.

Two deaths in a matter of hours.

And I haven't even fallen in love.

Such selfish thoughts. But I guess it's human nature to always relate to things personally. What's in it for me? Magiging ganon ba ako?

Hay praning.

Anyway, look at things from a different angle na lang. My batchmate's husband brought to this world his children, who would continue and build his legacy. My batchmate got to spend time with a person she loved.

Sid Hildawa, meanwhile, was a busy person. I just learned that he was an architect. But he is also the head of the visual arts department of the CCP, a visual artist, a teacher, a writer, a poet. Andaming ginawa. I stalk him over his blog and during an event, I confessed that I did this and attempted to impress him by reciting the intro to his poem I liked very much. Did this freak him out (like I know it would if it were another person)? Nope. Because he's also nice guy.

Here's the poem:

How to Be a Door

Hinge your life on something
as steadfast as a jamb
but know which way to swing.
(Those who swing both ways
belong between the dining hall
and the kitchen.) Hold your breath
when you are locked, inhale deeply
with every knock that isn't answered
with "come in." Be still
when there is no reply from the innkeeper
of all things. Your name is Portal
so with your body keep out sickness
and greed, and builders who do not know
how to hammer a house with quiet words.
Let sorrow pass, and youth, and the goldest giraffe
who bends low to nibble from a lady's hand,
that all may enter who have traveled worlds
to be astonished; weary now of boulevards
that look out to the sea but never wave;
finally stepping out of solitude into shade,
shaking hands with all they meet inside, all
who have come before them, all who must dwell.

(-from the 2006 collection, "Building a House," revised March 12, 2007)

More of his poems here.

Hopefully, cheer will peek through these pages tomorrow.

Twiddling My Toes

One more day till the holy days for rest and meditation. Truth be told, nothing’s really going on this part of the jungle.

Which is well and good because here’s what I was able to do the past days:

Join the PETA Season Lanch / Children’s Theater Program CD Launch. For 2 nights and 1 whole day I was able to see and catch up with my PETA friends and work with the newer generation of company actors. The performances were wonderful and had me yearning again to be part of the season plays. I kidded that this was the extent of my PETA participation. – season launches – and deep inside, I really hoped not. I want to be part of another production. Please give me the gift of time.

During the PETA Launch, I was also able to meet a high-school batchmate, Ina Pamintuan! When she joined her co-teachers from Waldorf School to watch the season launch, she didn’t expect to see me. Well, thankfully she did! Now, I made her promise that she will be attending the batch get-togethers!

Bond with my college friends, Mabi and Felice over Thai food at Som’s. As a post birthday get-together (mine and Mabi’s), I was eager to connect again with Mabi, Felice and Jhoanna (who didn’t make it because she had stomach infliction of some sort). However, if I still believed in signs, I wouldn’t anymore pursue meeting with them because I got lost not one, but two times, on my way to Rockwell from Quezon City. How I could do that was really strange, but what is stranger is that on the way home, I lost my parking ticket. Katangahan to the max! Still I was able to have a long chat with friends and that was so nice. We’re meeting after the holy week for yoga…

Bring my mom to the gym. Because she couldn’t perspire, she wanted to go have a sauna, where she can at my gym. So finally she got to sweat, and then goaded me to another mother-daughter squabble. Crazy mom.

Had dinner at Pilita’s Restaurant in Greenhills and watched “Atonement” with officemates.

Yon lang naman.

And bloghopping. Hay.

A Sign

http://dearsugar.com/1019605

If anybody's interested, I'm 32 :P

The moment you think of even lying about your age is the surest signal that you are already aged, or sige na nga, of "age".

I must admit that I have been fibbing about my chronological age recently, most brazenly when I joined a speed dating thingy which wanted to bring together singles aged 27-32. Every time I was asked how old I was and I replied, "30", I wanted to cackle (and inside I did). I was afraid they saw through my act because my quest for true love was for naught.

So my birthday, although welcome, was nothing to get excited about. During these landmark birthdays (those ending in 0 and 5), one usually reflects on their landmarks... and despite being very easy to reflect on the things you don't have (yet), I have to make a conscious effort to be thankful instead of the many blessings going in my life right now: my family's health and safety; the fact that we are all together; the unconditional affection I have for and receive from my cousins, uncles and aunties, and friends; a job which constantly challenges me; colleagues I respect and look forward to working with; a burning flame for the theater; the ability to pamper myself if I feel like it...



I hoped that I planned something more bongga like a theme party of sorts, as it has been ages since our family hosted something more elaborate than inihaw na baboy and manok. But because of the travesty that is my work, I was not able to do as much as even reserve a table for my birthday dinner. But I was so happy that I was with the people I love, love, love.

That said, I found out a surprisingly enjoyable event to go to, especially when you're angst-y about something as inevitable as age. As a birthday treat, my officemate treated me to a concert by the "Golden Divas", Pilita Corales, Carmen Soriano, and Carmen Pateña. Dahil masama ang humindi sa libre, and I look forward to anything new, sumama ako. At ang saya saya! Pilita and the 2 Carmens were really worthy of their monikers as divas as they were performers through and through and shone like the troopers that they are. Although their voices faltered and gave way (what do we expect? they're all senior citizens :P), their numbers were all confident and more so their costumes! Plunging kung plunging at high slit kung high slit!

But the happiest bonus I got out of that night, was the fact that I was one of the youngest in the audience!!! Hahahahaha!!! The place was jampacked and most of the those who watched were lolas and lolos. It was actually hard to get a seat because whenever I got a good seat, I would give it up for the lola who wanted to watch Pilita so bad even if she had to go up three flights of stairs, with the aid of a cane!

My lesson that night was, no matter how old you think you are, may mas matanda pa sa iyo. And in other instances, kahit mas bata pa sila sa iyo, mukha na silang matanda!!!

That's just me humoring myself, as I usually do in my journals. Anyway, my friend and I promised, or rather, prophesied that this will be "the" year. Good times ahead! Up, up and up

Decompress

After a crazy week of intermittent and bothered sleep, unmet expectations, heated arguments and plain walang kaganda-ganda moments, I have decided to regain my energy and general disposition at home.

Stress makes me a very irritable woman. And although I thought I have gone through a lot in this thankless job that I have, I have never been this tired, this harassed ... It scares me. Bad for my pressure.

How do people keep their cool when everything else is falling apart? What is the secret???

Anyway, the worst has ended and we've all hopefully learned our lessons.
Next time, it will be good news...