friends-sick

How can you forget friends like them, who make your day and join you in misery and happiness? You've been together for as long as you can remember, and you might not see them for weeks, months, or even years, but when you do, you find out that nothing has changed. They're just there, for you to laugh and share your adventures with, listen to, learn from and just BE WITH.

I was a fool for thinking that I was all alone in this quarter life crisis. They were there all along, just waiting for me to vent out. And they're not just sounding boards that just take in everything. They have opinions of their own, and when I'm not being rational, they tell me. And I don't take it as a punch in the stomach, but a sign of their love for me. Because whatever they tell me, I know that they would stick it out with me through thick and thin, however stupid, lost and rebelious I have been.

And they never judge me. I have made some mistakes in the past, and they just let me be. No no-nos, no "I told you so's", no "fix that yourself". They just join me in my misery. And I don't know what the hell I would do if I lost even one of them.

I think about them every single day, make grand plans for when we meet again, and daydream about hanging out with them. How hard is it to keep friendships? Never. I may lose my job and teeth and other things that matter to me, but they -- these wonderful girls --- will never go.

I appreciate them the most when I come from a break up. They never ever put the blame on me. That's because they know that we're alike. We always do our best to make it work. Not to the point of losing ourselves, but as long as we can without losing our principles. We don't share the same values, but we know how to love and we all know how good it is to be loved. We all believe in love, and though it doesn't seem to favor all of us, we're okay.

They've seen me weep and cross the streets without looking bothways. They've heard me rant and badmouth people from the past, and just pour out my bitterness. And some of them might not even support this, but they still lend their ears to me. And I really really appreciate that.

Until out next videoke session, until the next boisterous laughter, until the next fun dinner.
I'll be back before you know it.

career!

An asshole once told me that the peak of someone's career is between 25-30 years old.
So if you're not heading towards a goal at 25, you might as well expect your career to come crashing down, or become stagnant forever.
And that really scared me.
I will be turning 24 soon, and I have no idea what to do with my life. Well, that's not entirely true. I have an idea, but I'm having a problem pushing through with it.
I don't want it to remain an idea forever.
I don't want to be old and gray and a failure.

Right now I'm really really scared.
I hope that a lot will happen in a couple of years and I hope these events will favor my career growth.

Never mind love and men.
They're just like sanitary napkins.
Make use of them, and once they're all soaked and stnking, throw them away.

But career is different.
It's what parents wait all their lives for you to become.
It's a lifetime achievement and people will remember you for it.

In ten years I don't want to have a reunion with my friends and have them buy me dinner because I'm broke and unhappy.
I want to be laughing with them and hearing nothing but praise.
And I also want them to be successful in their own right.


My friends will become doctors and lawyers and professionals and ... great! And now I don't know if I will be. I know I'll be fabulous, but I still have lots of things in mind that I need to act on.

And I will act on them.
How, when, I don't know.
Well hopefully in ten years I won't be blogging about THIS anymore.

miss you lis!

this was the night of dancing and singing
of merry drinking and endless smoking
of applause and laughter
of just being in the moment
and not allowing my mind to wander somewhere else
well, it's over
and it only means one thing
next time will be much better

one point

Some positive energy last night.
It was hot and the lights were bright.
And my mind was wandering.
The only thing that made it steady was Bacardi.
Thank you.

I Will Steal Your Apple

I don't want to be caught stealing an apple.
I want to be seen planting an apple tree.
There's so much dignity in the latter.

But then again,
there IS dignity in how you plan to get your apple.
Steal it, cajole the apple picker to give it to you,
trade your slippers for the apple.
There's a thousand other ways to get that apple.

You have a plan and your survival is your priority.
And if that apple will feed you, will make you live for one more day,
go ahead, steal it from that shithead who's had enough apples!
There is dignity in life. Do anything to keep your life.

And this might not be a good way of thinking,
but in the first place, some people shouldn't have more than enough apples.
And some people shouldn't be left with NO apple at all.
We must all have one apple a day to keep hostility away.

And if it's too late for that to happen...
trust me buddy,
I will go to your front yard, raid your kitchen, find it in your fridge or fruit basket,
and I might even kill you apple picker if he gets in the way.
i WILL steal your apple.

beautiful

It's true.
I'm beautiful.
It's a fact.
And no one ever objected to that.

But sometimes I doubt it.
The minute I feel that someone has not been reciprocating my feelings, I feel so ugly I might as well date Shrek.

And my self-esteem crashes like a Kish plane wanting to get to Dubai as fast as it can, but fails to.

And my hair feels like it's falling off,
and my waist is suddenly ten times bigger than the minute before, and my toes are the worst-looking female toes in the world.

And worse, I feel dumb too.
I cannot think of a witty line to say to anyone.
I'm just me, stripped of all the confidence I've tried so hard to gain.

Yes, I am beautiful.
And I can suffer and suffer, but will never beg for someone to tell me I am.
I will prove it.

Oh yes I will.

On Deadlines

Deadlines suck.
Don't they.

Later I have to make sure that everyone goes to that meeting.
In a week I have to make sure that everyone is staying here legally.
Before 5 o'clock I have to make sure that I look fabulous.

I'm 23, and I think I'm young, and I want to take my own sweet time, but it seems that an invisible force is pushing towards rushing things . . . and it makes me want to achieve something right here, right now.

So I'm 23, and have all the time in the world,
but have to make sure that by 25, my job is stable.
By 26 I should have found a decent man to live with.
By 28 I should have saved enough for my own future and provided for my sister.
At 30, I'll have to start having kids because sooner or later my eggs will rot.

But I don't want to beat my deadlines.
I don't want to compete with the world.
I don't want to rush.
I want to glide.


But can't.

Ok back to work.

another one about loneliness

I think this is making me old.
Older than I'm supposed to be.

Whenever I reach that place where I thought I could get rid of loneliness, guess what I always find.
More loneliness.

Not long ago I was striving to be happy even in the midst of being alone.
Why, in the process of doing so, do I feel sadder?

Obviously, I don't really need to be alone, and I will not, if I get help.

If you can just tell me where to find someone who will just stop me from wanting to be alone.

time to come home

My Thursday night was a wake up call.

Indeed, we were very important to him and the feeling was mutual.

I would never trade our talks for the world.

It made me break down and lose my poise in a
hearbeat, the moment i saw him alone and sad.

Two prodigal daughters in a family reunion.
Yes. That's what it looked like.

And we were truly sorry from the bottom of our hearts.

We wanted to be back in his arms.

In a few moments my face was flushed from having too much wine (then again, no wine is too much for us).

I let it all out and told the world off for not living in harmony with my life. And for letting others get away with hurting me.

But I shrugged it off. I didn't want to ruin the evening.

And we were happy again.

Happy happy happy until the morning, until bruch time, until next week.
Looking forward.

I'm so NOT bored I wrote this

“Life swings like a pendulum backward and forward between pain and boredom”
- Arthur Schopenhauer

It's easier to say "I'm bored out of my skull, get me out of here" than "I'm in deep pain, please help me".
I hate boredom. It ruins the pattern of my life graph.
I've extrapolated my ever-exciting future, and though boredom doesn't remove the possibility of a graph that shoots way above the expected intensity of Zeena events, it kills the fun. Fun, meaning, SOMETHING IS HAPPENING.
Pain can be fun, if you think about it.
Just think of your life as a TV series.
Each time you are in trouble, people are more and more interested to see the next episodes.
And NEVER do you encounter any boring scene in a TV series.
Just like my life.
I can't be stagnant.
Give me pain anytime.
Right here, right now.

“I've got a great ambition to die of exhaustion rather than boredom.”
-Thomas Carlyle

And let me work my butt to ashes.
Let me serve my head on a silver platter to those who need it.
Let me do something worthwhile, because doing nothing can be fun at first,
but as days go by, I feel more and more stupid.
So yes, I drag myself out of bed and head to work,
because I know that the moment I oversleep and decide to do nothing,
I will feel handicapped and regret it.

“There's no excuse to be bored. Sad, yes. Angry, yes. Depressed, yes. Crazy, yes. But there's no excuse for boredom, ever.”
-Viggo Mortensen

I never say I'm bored. I will die of sadness or drown in dillusion, but never live through boredom. Something is wrong if nothing seems to be wrong.
I think that life challenges me by throwing boulders at me, and it's just up to me if I want to catch them, evade them or welcome them with open arms.
But if it stops throwing the boulders, and I find myself kicking pebbles, hoping the earth would open up and swallow me, that's the time I will start worrying.
Now I am worrying about some things, and that's fine.
Better than worrying about nothing.

“The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity.”
-Ellen Parr

I am thankful that curiosity is my middle name.
If I chose this path, what would happen?
If I left home and tried to live in another place, what would happen?
What in me would change?
If I said yes instead of no, no instead of yes, walked away from it all.
If I took shit from anyone, or if I THREW shit at anyone.
WHAT WOULD HAPPEN?

And right now I'm really curious to know...
why am I writing this?

Day 3.

Day Three was mostly spent in Kish Island, sulking because the place was horrible and I didn't want to make friends with any of the following:

1) cheap girls playing cards with a bunch of lowlives who live to hoot

2) bed bugs

3) 30 somethings who think they're still hot stuff, and boasts of marrying Arabs, who just really need sex, good food, and someone to cut their toe nails.

Ok, so I had a Kitkat in the morning, but that was because of the tension , with our visas and all.

But once the plane --- which by the way looked like a public bus and ran like one too --- landed in Dubai, Fifi and I didn't waste any time. We walked all the way to the arrivals area, rode a carlift home, and as the whole Kish trip was not enough to make us bleed, we put on our best sporty outfits and worked out. Yes, I couldn't care less if I didn't sleep well, or if I just came back from Iran. We both did it. And the feeling was great. 300 on the skip rope, 3 rounds of jogging and 5 rounds of walking. Beat that.

Anyway I lost a considerable amount of weight since last week. Maybe 5 lbs, or 2 kg. Not bad. I can still feel my thighs battling off each other though ("You bastard, there's only room for one!!!"), and before either of them wins, I have to lose another 5 lbs by June 22, or else I will have to give Dh200 to Fifi. No way, no how.

So we had a few rules. No laxatives, slimming pills or disgusting herbal teas. No starving yourself to death, jsut eating right. No binge eating and therefore no induced vomitting. Clear.

Then we had dinner. She managed to make use of the oven and I managed to put apples and strawberries together to call it dessert. Oh well.

Kish Kita Diyan Eh!

Zeena: Grabe Lis ang pangit sa Kish.

Lis: Pangit? Anong pangit? Impyerno sa Kish! Pucha!

Zeena: Wait lang, para sa kaalaman ng iba, ano ba yung Kish?

Lis: Isa siyang islang matatagpuan sa Iran. Statistics show that hundreds of people go there every day. Duh! Bakit kaya? Hindi nga ba, ang Kish ay visa-free!

Zeena: yup, kaya tyao pumunta dun kasi nag expire na yung visit visas natin at kailangan nating mag exit. Duh, ok lang yung exit eh. Pero hindi naman sinabing mag SUFFER!

Lis: Bakit? Hindi ka ba natuwa sa love story ni Ate Shiela (36, Pinay, malaki puson at pata) na nakakita ng true love sa katauhan ni Fareed Hussein, isang batang batang Egyptian na pinili siyang maging pangalawang asawa.

Zeena: Wow pangalawang asawa. Something to be proud of! Duh kaya natulog na lang ako kesa makinig sa kanya. Ikaw kaya na endure mo yung kwento niyang walang kwenta. Plastik!

Lis: Can't help it eh, lalo na nung sumama pa sa usapan si Haydee (30 something na nagmumurang kamatis, get the picture?) na dine-date and tyuhin ng dati niyang barkada. Paano mo ba naman tatanggihan yan?

Zeena: Ummm ewan ko pero alam ko mas gusto kong magmumog ng brown na tubig sa "hotel room" (isang munting bungalow na parang bahay sa Apalit, Pampanga) para matapos na ko mag sipilyo at makatulog na lang sa kamang may surot! O beat that!

Lis: Hello, may tatalo pa ba sa sala/bedroom? Aminin mo nagulat ka noh? Kala ko aabutan natin sala set, pucha biglang limang kama ang katapat natin pag pasok!

Zeena: OK lang naman sa akin yun. Ang ayoko lang eh yung mga babae sa kabilang kwarto nagpapasok ng mga lalakeng kasing jologs nila, naglalaro ng baraha, parang outing lang ng mga saleslady sa Puerto Azul Cavite. Gusto mo yun?

Lis: Dun ka ba talaga nainis? O sa pagtawag tawag sa 'yo ng "ate, alis na rin kayo bukas? 'Te, 'no trabaho niyo?" Te te . . . teka lang a? Kelan ba nila balak umalis sa impyernong yun?

Zeena: Oo nga kawawa, yung iba sa kanila isang linggo na nandun. Hindi pinapadala yung visa ng mga tinuturing nilang kaibigang kabayan. Lis, pag binigyan kita ng pera pang visa ko, at nagpunta ako sa Kish, ifafax mo ba agad yung visa o sasabihin mong sira ang fax machine sa immigration?

Lis: Regarding sa first statement, eto lang masasabi ko... HHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA! Plastik! Magpakatotoo ka nga! tigilan mo ko! Naku hindi ko naman sasabihin sa iyo yun. Sisisihin ko lang si Naseem na inutusan ko para mag fax!

Zeena: Hay Lis. Buti na lang ikaw ang kasama ko sa Kish. Halika nga rito pa-kish nga!

Lis: No nooooo! Alam mo namang strict sila dito. No kissing in public!

Zeena: Drop the act and give me a big wet kiss. You know you want it.

Lis: Ewwwwwwww. Haram haram!

Zeena: Hindi nga Lis, never na tayong pupunta sa Kish a?

Lis: Hay nako sabihin mo yan sa malaking pwet at sira ulong boss natin!

Zeena: Hoy, sira ulong boss namin na malaki ang pwet, never na kami pupunta sa Kish ha!

Lis: (boses ng boss namin) But Zeena, I haven't paid Interactive yet. And I'm planning to have my butt reduced, so . . . you call the shots!

Zeena: God I hate you. But I hate Kish more!!!!

Lis: Me too!!! But no, aminin mo, maabilidad tayo, biruin mo, dapat 7 AM the next day pa tayo babalik ng Dubai, kamusta yung 2:30 pa lang ng hapon umuwi na tayo?

Zeena: Ummm I owe it all to your merienda. Yung paghigop mo ng sopas galing sa maliit na plastic cup, nakakaawa. Tuloy naging chance passengers tayo at nauna pa tayo sa mga loshang na kanina pa naghihintay sa airport. At ngayon, fabulosa pa rin tayo! . . . Ummm, the plane WAS super wobbly though. Parang bus lang galing Taft to Fairview.

Lis: True. Pero ayoko lang talaga magpatalo kay Ate Mae/Mama Chona lookalike na nang api ng lang sa Russian at sinabing "Sht, prostitute yan!"

Zeena: Hahahah true parang pag Russian pokpok na agad, just like pag sinabing Pinay, housemaid na agad. Can you spell IGNORANCE DUE TO POOR EDUCATION AND UPBRINGING? Wait lang parang ang ayos nating umasal. San galing yun?

Lis: Ewan ko sa yo eh ikaw nag isip niyan eh, di ko naman iniisip yan.

Zeena: Ay hindi yun ang iniisip ko, ang iniisip ko, gusto kong kotse yung may CD changer para hindi masyadong mahirap magpalit palit ng sounds. Ikaw ba Fi, anong iniisip mo? Pagod ka na sa tape? Lipat na!

Lis: Tape? Thank God Old school ako, and I'm just a simple person. I want my car to be plain and simple. Ikaw?

Zeena: Ummm ambitious ako. Aim high, ikaw nga. Kung magka CD changer ka na, sabihin mo lang sa akin. Ipapa activate ko yung navigator ko ha? Para habang madaling makinig ng sounds, alam ko na rin ang daan papuntang Hatta, for example. Di ba nga naman guuuurl, ganon lang ang buhay? You win some, you lose some. You win some guy, you lose some weight. OR . . . you lose a guy because you've GAINED some weight.

Lis: Ay parang hindi applicable sa akin yun kasi meron akong guy ngayon pero I gained weight. Pano yun, Madame Oda? Helping me helping me! Sincerely, Confused Simple Girl.

Zeena: Dear Confused simple girl, talaga, tanggap ka niya kahit mataba ka? Tignan mo rin naman baka may kakulangan siya. Hindi nga ba kakagaling lang natin sa AIRPORT? La lang tignan mo lang yung noo niya kung pwede paliparan.

Lis: Ang sama mo. Bakit ka ganyan?

Zeena: May regla ako, may reklamo?

Lis: OK that sums up this conversation.

Zeena: Ok, last na lang. Dahil mag e end na to, at Kish naman talaga ang topic, i-relate mo nga sa regla ang Kish.

Lis. Nu kaya yun. Baliw ka talga pag meron ka.

Zeena: So not. Eto. Ang regla at Kish, parehong mabaho, masangsang, nakakairita, nakakainit ng ulo, at ayaw mo na ulit ma engkwentro. Oha, ikaw?

Lis: Pucha ang Kish madugo talga!

Zeena: Apir! O sige tutal we're back home. Home is where the heart is, and where my fart is!

Lis: Hahahhaha fart na amoy . . . .. God I miss that smell!

Zeena: Well, here it is....

tell me this isn't happening

This day sucks!!!
I have my period,
I haven't had enough sleep,
everyone is going against our plan,
and some people just DON'T give a damn.
I'm this close to jumping off the office balcony...
I shit you not.

Day Two

... happened!

At least 5 rounds of brisk walking, a round of jogging and 300 on the skip rope.

I'm guessing at least 30 minutes of non-stop working out and sweating.

In no time I might even do my boxing drills.



NO CARBS after lunch.

Colin and I shared a big fresh papaya while watching Rent. . .




. . .and well, Rent was such a nice musical and the tunes just made us want to have wine.

I had 2 glasses of white, and a glass of red.





Good for the heart.

Then received a phone call that almost ruined the night, but didn't.

Chai tea latte with Fifi.

Then a quick but sincere good night.

Yes, Day Two was waaaaaaaaay better than Day One.

Let's see how Day Three goes.

Day One

Yes, I have gained 5kg and I am undeniably chubby. I canNOT tell you how sad I am feeling right now, that my weight suddenly decided to climb the scale without even giving me a warning.

HI ZEENA, YOU'RE TURNING INTO AN ELEPHANT.
DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO BEFORE COLIN'S WEIGHING SCALE BREAKS DOWN.

In a span of three months, I have no idea what happened, but 103 lbs became 111, and if I don't do something about it, in August, I will use my own lard to make my birthday cake.

So yesterday was the perfect day to start changing a few things in my routine. Hmmm let's see. I sipped some slimming tea while watching Desperate Housewives with my friends, did the laundry, washed the dishes etc etc etc...

...and decided to take out my anti-fat ammunition that a friend gave me: the legendary skip rope.

My pals were very supportive. They went out into the frontyard for moral support (never mind the fact that they were chain-smoking). They made sure that I skipped 200 times, walked 3 rounds around the neighborhood, and sweated like a pig. And since now I LOOK like one, I REALLY sweated like one.

But yesterday was only Day One.
What if Day Two never happens?
I look at my thighs and I just want to break down. Really. I canNOT have possibly have thighs this big! Maybe if I stabbed them, two other people would start walking out singing their hymn of independence.
This scary thought made me decide:
I better push through with Day Two.
Which is later. 200 skips or more.


Better yet, I hope that Day Two is Day One for my time of the month.
Because this can't be ALL fats. Maybe it's mostly water.
Maybe when I have my period already I won't bloat so much that my face suffers from edema.

Or maybe it's partially gas?
Maybe when I get home and just fart for 2 straight hours I'd be really thin and light.

I'm fat, and I know YOU don't have a problem with that, but I do.

And... well, if you can just help me?

Blackmailing

This was the note Martha Huber wrote to Mary Alice. This is also the reason why Mary Alice committed suicide. Oh God. If Mary Alice only knew that it only took some chinaware and water/electricity receipts to zip Martha's mouth. Well, too late.

Blackmailing is not uncommon in the world. We have done it at least once in our lives, regardless of our fear of its repercussions and its impact on others' lives.

If I were an evil person, I would really tell the world about others' misbehavior. I would tell everyone else how bad some people have become and how they lose their conscience once the sun sets. They claim to lose control in the dark, when no one is watching them. But when the sun rises again, they dust off their sins and win the crowd with their pleasant smiles. Perfect.

But for those who witness their sins again and again, it is revolting. I am not washing my hands clean of this. I am clearly involved. But I feel no guilt, as I think there is nothing wrong with participating in something that I think is not wrong for me to do. However, I know that by agreeing, I am condoning this. So I know where I stand. I am not going to tell, because if I did, I would also turn myself in.

Yes, if I were an evil person I would push them to the worst world they have NEVER known --- a social and psychological inferno that would tear them apart and make them eat their nasty words and wish they were never born. They would feel shame eating them alive, destroying every single reason to save their faces.

But I am not evil. And I take responsibility for my own actions. What I am doing right now are wishing this would be over soon, and hoping that I could start over. Not very easy, but that's the price of not being evil. Not necessarily good, but trying to make up for the wrong things I have done. Not out of guilt, but to avoid being with the same people in that inferno. I've had about enough of their rotten company.

P.S. If I didn't have PMS I'd never have written this.

nothing to fear

They're there
I'm here
It's no wonder
They can't hear
My voice
Like hers
Is always heard
In whispers
Just the same
It's still not clear
Because I speak
Out of fear
I put myself
In my place
And wonder why
I'm in this place
I want to shout
I have no shame
I'm just trying
To play his game
One more time
I ask questions
One more time
Rejection
Well, no worries
I'm still here
Not afraid
Nothing to fear

Carnival by The Cardigans

I will never know
cause you will never show
come on and love me now
come on and love me now

I will never know
cause you will never show
come on and love me now
come on and love me now

come on and love me now

Carnival came by my town today
bright lights from giantwheel
fall on the alleyways
and I'm here
by my door
waiting for you

I will never know
cause you will never show
come on and love me now
come on and love me now

I will never know
cause you will never show
come on and love me now
come on and love me now

come on and love me now

I hear sounds of lovers
barrel organs, mothers
I would like to take you
down there
just to make you mine
in a merry-go-round

I will never know
cause you will never show
come on and love me now
come on and love me now

dubai from my point of view

Here are some of the pictures that I took here in Dubai.
Of course you won't see Dubai because I have, for the Nth time, managed to make this entry all about me. Who else?

Not yet in Dubai.
At the airport, waiting to board the plane.
I could still remember the feeling.
Thrilling.
Like Dubai was some kind of secret place,
and only Fifi and I would be priviledged to get there.

Our first videoke session in Dubai.
On the attic of a small Filipino cafeteria in Karama.
Really low ceiling. No ventilation.
10 Dirhams per hour.
Not exactly Music 21-ish...

Job hunting and dating.
This was right after a gruesome day of job-hunting.
And i deserved a reward.
In my room. I had just taken a shower.
All dressed up!
Waiting for my date to pick me up.

A few days before we got jobs.
Another day, another edition of Khaleej and Gulf News.
Another "what-will-I-wear" puzzle to be solved.
Another laaaaaazy day, refusing to brush my teeth and getting ready for breakfast and laundry.
Laundry. Oh yeah.

First time at Jumeirah Beach Park
The beach was fabulous.
I ate tons of food,
had a chitchat with my officemates,
tinkered with my iPod,
and took a nap.
The weather was nice, but my body wasn't.
So no swimming for me.

Just two nights ago at Chikka Grill.
It's mandatory for new employees to treat everyone else at this hip and happening Filipino bar that features the Fourfront band.
I love them because they make me sing some lines of their songs.
Two nights ago I was a Pussycat Doll and Tamia.
Yes, I know we've been gaining weight.
Does Dubai have laxatives?

OK that's Dubai for you. Actually that's ME in Dubai for you. I don't think it matters where I am. My phone never tells you that. It just tells you of MY story. Can you see which pictures are sad and happy? You'll have to figure that one out. And you think I'm that transparent.

A NEWFOUND FRIEND

This is Mary Wollstonecraft, a not-so-famous writer in the 18th century.
Normally I would completely ignore anything that has to do with this era,
but this woman is different.
Being one of the earliest feminists in the world,
it took real courage and conviction in one's belief to carry out her vocation.
I am not really interested in feminism, but the concept that sprouted from it...
FREE LOVE.
What is free love?
It's an alternative to (or a means to destroy) marriage, and this mostly favors women.
It pushes for self-ownership and non-binding relationships and therefore
prevents "the annihilation of women" brought about by marriage.
Furthermore, she argued that that many children are born into unloving marriages out of compulsion, but should instead be the result of choice and affection — yet children born out of wedlock did not have the same rights as children with married parents.
Sounds logical.
"Today, she is celebrated for her early advocacy of women's equality and rationality, and for arguing against the degradation and subjugation of women justified by the 'arbitrary power of beauty'."
Now how cool is she.

hypocrisy

http://www.hardcoretruth.com/Hypocrisy/

Everyone is a hypocrite.
And whoever says he isn't is just, well, a righteous sonuvagun.
If you think a hypocrite is as simple as the "Do as I say, not as I do" attitude, better check out the link above.
There 4 kinds of hypocrites, according to it.
And I was not suprised when I found out that I was one of the worst:

Dishonest internal hypocrites: stated beliefs are consistent with actions but actual internal beliefs are not. They are often people pleasers with weak convictions.

When I read this, I couldn't be happier, because, the above is the only kind of hypocrisy that makes mention of the intention to make others happy.
At the expense of....myself!
Am I on my way to self-destruction?

Well, also, it's also interesting that when I told my friend Wyson (or Wizzieroo as I fondly call her), all she said was there were no hard and fast rules to live our lives.

Translation: I am a hypocrite and it really doesn't matter.

Another point for my self-esteem.

Alone

Why is it so hard to reach emancipation?
Because as I am journeying towards it,
I need to cling to some people.
For strength, for courage, for sanity.
True, I can't do anything alone.
Even in achieving absolute confinement,
I need a few people to help me.
Well, what's the point of even wanting to go there?
Well, let's just think of it as a dress rehearsal
of my solo recital.
Isn't it scary?

happier?

We were 3 meters apart,
like we did not know each other.
Smiling, smiling,
like this inside joke was so funny.
Hilarious.
It drove me crazy.
We entered separately,
left separately,
like it was the best we could do.
We were 3 meters apart.
I could hear him snickering
while I jauntily bounced
towards the exit.
I glanced at his face
And saw that it was happy.
Too good to be true.
Maybe sarcastic?
Deceiving?
Why?
Maybe I was skipping a little too happily.
And no one should be happier than him.
Happy happy man.

Odd One . . . Alone

“The dread of loneliness is greater than the fear of bondage, so we get married.”
-Cyril Connolly

Yesterday afternoon I walked into the villa and found Mike getting ready to go the airport.
He was leaving for Australia to celebrate his 25th wedding anniversary with Judy, his wife. I couldn't help but envy the smile on his face when he was carrying his suitcase. It was raw, genuine, and screaming "Off to heaven! See you in two weeks, fuckers!"

Fifi didn't come home. She slept at a friend's house. Good for her. After working until 10 PM the whole week she deserved a FUN slumber party!

I did the laundry and put on Desperate Housewives Season Two. Phoned a cafeteria to have some food delivered. This was the life.

So at 7 in the evening Bree Vandekamp was slapping her mother-in-law in the face while I was enjoying my Mega Club sandwich and avocado shake. I was amused at how Bree managed to put a stop to Mrs. Vandekamp's excessive grieving.Who would mourn that loudly? Silly silly silly.

And I at that moment I realized that Colin too was not coming home. I was alone in the house, sitting pretty. Comfortable and well-rested, not minding anything or anyone else. Before I could shout "Hooray" out loud, something else came out of my mouth. Sobs. Loud, uncontrollable, I-want-my-mommy sobs.

I sobbed violently, fighting the speakers in each corner of the living room, fighting the climax of the second episode. Tears were on my fries and my feet were numb.

Why was I crying?

I thought I'd have a fun time with me, myself and I.

I didn't need a boyfriend to come over so we could make out before the "folks" went home.

I could use one night without Fifi, could I?

Why was I crying? I still have no idea.

Well, I guess it's scary to be alone sometimes.

It is.

But don't get me wrong, I still believe alone is better than married but miserable, or with a significant other who doesn't think you're significant.

What I need is a videoke night this weekend, and I swear I will NOT go home without geting drunk and doing something really stupid and reeking of alcohol. I will sing my favorite songs, the ones I have been humming in my head for weeks, I will fill myself with the best liqour in town and throw up in everyone's face. And I will make sure that the next morning I have a terrible headache and stinking breath.

That used to be the way I fought loneliness, Manila style.

And I believe it still is.

Let's do Dubai, Zeena!

There. Whew!

Fabulously Filthy

Women are naturally charming.
I can attest to that.
Men just become charming when they shave and shower and put on some decent clothes.
But women, ah.
They are just so irresistable, zit cream and all.

Every afternoon, coming from work, I walk into a room full of garbage.
Hairpins and dangling earrings on the floor,
newspapers and wet towels on the bed,
this morning's wheat bread on the bedside table,
and a trash can full of used tissues.
I take a hot shower,
go down and try (with all my might) to prepare a decent dinner for myself.
A meal that consists of uncooked SPAM and canned mixed vegetables is about as decent as it gets. OK.
Then I head to the living room to watch some Desperate Housewives.
Aren't they fabulous.
My feet are on the glass table and my spoon is somewhere on the floor, when it's not in my mouth.
Doesn't sound very appealing to you?
It should.
I am a woman.
That means, while I do all these things, I hum and gallop and trip on my own feet and smile at how my hair looks so bleah.
Ain't that cute to look at.
As opposed to an average man going about his afternoon routine.
(I'll leave that to your imagination, I don't have time to describe the whole thing.)

And the nicest thing about it is, I never smell bad.
Wow.
The mosquitoes in the office are just a coincidence, thank you very much.
And nobody has ever told me off for being a slob.
Some never notice that side of me, and some even think it's cool.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaa...choo!

I dated this man who claimed that he took a shower at least three times a day.
Well, there are some days that I just don't feel like bathing, and I turn out to be fabulous.
Maybe he needs to shower at least three times a day to be half as fabulous as me.
Kidding.
But there IS some truth to that, if you think about it.
So I am not ashamed that some men take more time to groom themselves.
They just need to keep up with us. Wink.

Every single day I hate Fifi's guts for leaving her dinner on her bed and leaving the lights on until the next morning. But I get up in the morning and smell the breakfast she has prepared for me, and I forget about hatred.
And those heavenly curves (OK I talk like a man, which i HATE).
See how powerful women are? They don't have to utter a single word to proclaim their cuteness.

My housemates and I were having dinner last week and I told them about Desperate Housewives, how addictive the show was.
They didn't seem enthusiastic.
"Oh well, it's a girl thing perhaps."
After two days, Colin bought the whole season one.
I waltzed across the living room and put Disc One on in sheer excitement.
Of course I had seen the whole season before, but I could not get tired of DH.
That night (on Wisteria Lane), Mike and Colin joined me to see what "this rubbish" was all about.
And since then (except for the F1 race last night), we've been watching at least three espisodes every night. And I don't mean watching for leisure.
One of them (I won't say who) can't take his eyes off the Tv screen, and when he wants to get something from the kitchen, he speeds away like his ass is on fire.

TV stars, the struggling twenty-something.
Women are just addictive, aren't they?


"I THINK I'LL BRUSH MY TEETH LATER."