Someone's awfully angry. Hmm...

A Tropical Getaway It Is Not...

The truth is, I've been putting off going back to the homeland because I am frightened. I fear changes. I fear that the home I left will not be the same home when I return. And I fear that the people I love and I may have grown apart over the miles and years. At the same time, I fear sameness. I fear that the things I was more than glad to leave behind will still be there. I fear confrontation with myself, and realizing truthful things I did not want to accept before.

Distance undoubtedly changes people. I came here with the hopes of remaining myself so that when I come back, the people that I'd be going back to will feel as if nothing has changed. But I have changed. I've lived in another place, with another way of life. I've made new experiences which enabled me to have different perceptions and tastes. I've developed preferences, as more options were made available. I have known things I did not know before. I may feel differently about things that I used to like, used to love, and used to believe in. And it's not a one-way thing. Time does not stop for anyone. A person you used to know so well can be a stranger in years.

I realized today that there is not one day that I do not think of the homeland. There is not one thought I have of my mother when I do not cry. I pray for strength and courage. I must go back. Before it's too late.

Welcome to the Quarterlife!

When I was younger, I thought that by this age, I would have everything figured out. I thought that I would've been on my way to marry. I thought that I would have a stable job or a stable source of income.

The 25th year has finally arrived. I still don't have my life figured out. I have no plans of getting married in the near future. I am broke and in debt. I am still looking for a job. And frankly, I still don't know what job I want.

So this is 25. Sounds like a lot of fun! =)

It is delightfully refreshing to come home to warm delicious meals and the presence of family. Ngin Ngin and Tita have only been here for 5 days but I feel as though I were back home in Manila once again. Aside from the pasalubongs I had requested, Ngin surprised me by bringing my humongous doggie bedroom slippers, my favorite Nike's, my black Mary Jane heels that I wore to my college graduation, my bright orange parasol, the caricature portrait of myself that my friends gave on my 18th birthday and old ID photos of myself from kindergarten and elementary. Though I may not use those things anymore, it was still very thoughtful of Ngin to pack them up and bring to me.

I now wake up to the smell of breakfast cooking. The apartment is virtually dust free. My dad has suddenly become neater in an attempt to impress his clean-freak mother. And the best part of it all is that our fridge is filled to its capacity. I lavet!

The Juice has met the family as well, and I think they're getting along quite well. It's important for me that he loves them, as these two women helped my dad raise me. I hope he gets to meet my mom someday too.

That's it pancit for now!

Booooooo!!! The Juice got into a car accident today. He's not hurt, thank God, but the expenses and the trouble of dealing with insurance and car repairs will be pretty stressful. It's very unfortunate that this had to happen at a time when he's burnt out from work. I can't help but feel partly to blame because I had asked him to wait 5 more minutes before leaving his house to pick me up. Damn you, wet hair. No, damn you, Britney, because I put off taking a shower to listen to your song.

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A favorite childhood toy for many Filipinos was on the news a few days ago for being recalled due to their hazardous properties. The "plastic balloon", or "children's balloon blowing kits," were sold by vendors manning the Philippine booths of the International Pavilion at the Canadian National exhibition. Apparently, these kits have been banned in Canada since 1973. Whoops.

http://www.cbc.ca/cp/health/080904/x090411A.html

Funny how I feel no shame on behalf of my homeland even after reading the article. It just dawned on me that maybe my toyo came from all those school-age years of inhaling dangerous fumes.

I'm gonna eat you someday, Canada

You consumed 2 years of my life. It's payback time. Fuck you.

The truth is, I never believed in having a best friend of the opposite sex.

I was drawn to the idea of having a male best friend in my early teens. It seemed "cool" to be close friends with a guy and to have people tease you about each other while you deny to death that there is something going on. I thought that I had found that person in my senior year in high school, when I developed a very close friendship with Tek.

The girls in my school gravitate toward Tek. My group of girlfriends eventually started hanging out with him. It wasn't long before we became inseparable and I considered him to be my best friend. But the friendship didn't turn out to be completely platonic. He admitted to having more than friendly feelings to me and started "courting" me thereafter. I confused feelings of enjoying his friendship to actually liking him. I turned him down soon after the revelation, but confessed to my friends that I missed him. My dear but immature girlfriends however, wanted to see a happy ending and therefore told Tek that I missed him in THAT way. He started hanging out with me again and even asked me to be his date for our graduation ball. I accepted and as I expected, we had a grand time partying our high school years away. That summer, he left for Thailand for a short vacation and promised to give me the world when he came back. He never heard from me since.

The word platonic is said to be a description of Plato's non-sexual relationships with his students. That for me is BS, because I still believe that he had strong sexual affections for Socrates. Having said that, I don't think that a "platonic" relationship between people of opposite sexes can be completely devoid of romance.

In my own definition, a best friend is the person whom you are closest to. It is the person you openly confide in, the person you genuinely enjoy talking to and being around with, the person you know in and out. I cannot imagine having a male friend possess all those qualities without me falling for him, or being attracted to him at the least. I have heard of people suppressing their feelings to "save the friendship." But it only takes one spark to ignite the fire. Emotions are easily triggered to surface.

I empathize with boyfriends and husbands of women with male best friends and girlfriends and wives of men with female best friends. If you are able to tell something you can't trust your significant other with, then what does that say of the relationship? Moreover, what does that say of the relationship with the best friend? I can only imagine the bad feelings or insecurities that are brought up in this situation. It is also this very reason why I believe that exes cannot be close friends again.

I do not intend to ridicule those who believe that platonic best-friend-relationships exist. I do not dispute that one cannot have close friendships with someone of the opposite sex as I too, have those. But I also do not regret to burst the bubble of people who are mystified. I find that a lot of people, young women especially, hang on to the romantic idea of a male best friend, thus making their sincerity in the friendship questionable.

Even these kids are honest about their feelings toward their best friend. Cute video :) I heard the advertising company had to interview over 60 pair of best friends to film this. Well worth it, if you had seen the little boy's reaction. Priceless!
http://youtube.com/watch?v=rJvJgvXcoMQ


A little post script...

For me, labelling someone as a best friend requires a weight of careful considerations. If I stuck to my convictions of what a best friend is, then I would have an extensive list, because I have not necessarily remained closest to any one person at all times in my life. And since labelling someone as a current best friend, best friend in high school, or kindergarten best friend sounds completely belittling to its value, I'd rather not name names at all. I am grateful enough to have good friends and I feel no need to name favorites.

Manhattan '08 Part 1: Shopping

Our itinerary was originally a mix of sightseeing, shopping and food tripping, but the wet, and often humid, weather and our aching feet had us doing more of the latter two. It didn't help our pockets that our hotel was located right at the centre of Midtown Manhattan. As we exit from the lobby, shopping strip 5th Avenue was just a few steps to our left. This promdi-suburbs tourist gawked and ogled at boutiques to her left and right. How can I not? 5th Avenue demands attention. Almost as attractive were Madison and 7th Avenue, the former having high end shops, and the latter, more affordable.

It was imperative that we visit two specific stores, the first being the NBA store. I couldn't tell if the Juice looked like Charlie at Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, or a guy who just stepped into heaven. The revolving door at the entrance of the store must have had magical powers, for he was dead tired prior to coming in. The moment the doors swung him inside, he was as energetic as a child with ADHD. I saw his eyes excitedly dart from left to right as he quickly made his way to personnel and asked where the Bobble Head Figures were. Much to his disappointment, Kobe wasn't available, but that didn't stop him from running around the place. 5 minutes into the store and I was the one carrying all the shopping bags, literally jogging just to keep up, and taking pictures of him with store merchandise and displays. He was a starstruck fan, meeting his favorite players through the jerseys. The sight of him was just too cute.

The Juice promised to get me something in New York for my birthday present. A little something-sumthin in a familiar blue box, to be specific. Now I don't consider myself a big fan of luxurious goods and jewelry, but I was more than thrilled to visit the 6-storey Tiffany and Co. store. We were greeted by sparkling pieces of jewelry upon entering. It was fascinating just to take a peek through the glass display, but the friendly and courteous staff were more than willing to take them out for you to try on. The urge to swipe the plastic was tempting, so we headed to the "safer" zone in the building, which is where the silver jewelry was located.

"Safe" is really relative. The infamous charms and hearts could could cost you quite a ton. Even the tiny pieces of jewelry were adorned with precious stones, gold and pearls. I had my heart set on a tiny silver necklace with a butterfly pendant that I saw online. It had small aquamarine stones on the tips of its wings. I was crushed to find out that the store, unfortunately, sold out already. The Juice went around the displays with me and suggested other pieces. There was even one necklace with an interwoven hearts design that was really unique, yet something still felt amiss. Finally I saw a delicate silver ring with an aquamarine stone in the middle. The stone was so faint, it almost looked like a crystal. It gripped me the way its financer did, and right then I knew that it was "the one."

Every other store we went to fell short of exciting us the way the above two did. But they were great nevertheless. I was pretty disappointed with Century 21, the much-hyped discount department store. Racks were packed so densely it was hard to see the clothes themselves. A lot of items were on the floor being stepped on and ripped. Luckily, the store's shoe department made up for it. They carry a plethora of every shoe imaginable. Designer brands were marked down up to 70%. Trendy shoes sell like hotcakes, so if you see a pair you like, grab and don't let go.

Our hotel was a short walk to Saks 5th Avenue, but I only went there to use the women's lounge and check the designer purses on sale. Bloomingdales was also a bit too expensive for my budget so we settled for Macy's, where you could find virtually EVERYTHING at every price range. Macy's gave discount cards to shoppers of other nationalities, so we took advantage of the additional 11% discount to buy pasalubong.

Despite our small purchases, the shopping experience proved to be extremely enjoyable. There's a certain rush you get upon finding a good deal, being surprised at the total after taxes, or having to pay no taxes at all (Trust me, if you live in Canada, everywhere else is shocking), or even successfully hailing a cab after shopping during rush hour. And there's still a lot more to experience. Who knows? I might be courageous enough to rub elbows with the models in SoHo or even haggle with the vendor selling fake Louis Vuitton pochettes on the sidewalks next time. ;)

4 exhilarating days with my love. A go signal from the parental unit. Shopping money too. Promise of a certain blue box ;-) What more can I ask for?

An extra pair of feet maybe.

New York City, here we come!

Father's Day

Five years ago, I wrote a special entry on my blog about my most memorable Christmas. I am posting it here because aside from it being my Christmas story, it is also a fatherhood tale.

Friday, November 28th, 2003
Subject: Dad's Most Precious Gift
Mood: Nostalgic

Around 10 Christmases ago, my dad bought me two dolls as his Christmas presents. But for some reason, he decided to give me only one of them and hid the other in my room so that I'll "discover Santa's gift for me" later on. The one that he hid was a big and beautiful furry Santa bear with a red and gren plaid scarf and black rimmed glasses. and the one that he gave me himself was a tiny African baby doll. It didn't even have 'real hair'.

I was so disappointed when I saw it. Not only because i found the doll ugly but because it looked rather cheap and because it was the only present he gave me. I cried and cried and shoved the doll back to my dad. I said that I didn't want it because it was ugly. When I couldn't be consoled, dad finally led me to my room where the SAnta bear from "Santa Claus" was. As soon as I saw the big bear, I realized that it was from dad and that he just gave me the small doll as a 'cover up' for the bigger present. I looked up at dad. He was looking at me, sort of expecting that I'd give him a big smile and say, 'I have a beautiful present fom Santa' and that I'd forget about the little doll that he gave me.

That night, I cried in my room, not because I was dissatisfied by his bigger gift but because I realized how ungrateful I was and how I must've hurt dad's feelings. I didn't even thank him after he gave me the little doll. I just said that i didn't want it. I behaved like a brat without thinking of his feelings. Sadly, I haven't apologized to him even to this day.

Three days ago, my lola cleaned our stock room and found that little African baby doll. When she gave it to me, I gave it a closer look for the first time. I came to see that it was the most beautiful thing that my dad has ever given me and that it was more precious than all the other presents more expensive and more beautiful than it. I placed it on my topmost shelf, enclosed in glass, and seated beside my most treasured books. There it will stay as one of my most precious possessions.

I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been for my dad to raise me without my mother. My less than perfect-little-angel self probably caused him so much frustrations over the years. I hope I had at least brought him joy, even if it was short-lived.

On this Father's day, I wish you happiness, good health and wealth. I wish you the love of friends and family, though they are thousands of miles away.

I thank you for all you have done, and all that you have given and sacrificed for me. Know that I am, and always will be, daddy's girl. I love you Dad.