Eleven months and two days ago, I visited a small snake farm in Bangkok as part of a tacky tourist package that ripped me off. Aside from allowing a local man to wrap a giant python around me for a fee, I also cradled a diaper-clad baby monkey in my arms for the sake of a nice picture I would soon post on Facebook. The monkey held me in a tight embrace and his fur brushing against my neck gave me goosebumps. After a few seconds it lunged at my chest and its hands frantically looked for my breasts. It was hungry. I felt so insulted, but downplayed my hurt feelings because it was pointless: the only witnesses were a white couple and the local man who owned the monkey, its father. And at that moment he could well be my husband, if the monkey really thought I was going to nurse him without objection.

Number 1, I was and still am NOT lactating.

Number 2, I am not a monkey.

Never did I think that I would look back at that time and say to myself "There goes one of the happiest moments of my life." But compared to what I am going through right now, I think I was better off then, in a place where no one knew me and at a time when I couldn't care less about anything.

It's been a year since I have been mistaken for a monkey. By a monkey. Given the circumstances now, I'm more than happy to mother that chimp. Where's that monkey when you need him.

I Understand

Life is so fast-paced in Dubai that sometimes I don't have time to think about how great my December holiday will be, notice that the flat has run out of edible stuff save for rotten veggies at the bottom of the fridge, or even breathe.

I have been suffocating myself for a whole week now. I find it literally hard to breathe. Bad thoughts are the culprit. I have become so negative this week, something that I fear the most. I always fear that I will soon wave a white flag for everyone to see and just resign to the fact that I am bound to be afraid of the future.

But every day friends seem to appear from nowhere and rescue me. In many different ways. By giving me a ride to a very important meeting, buying me cigarettes, treating me to a lavish spa package, or simply saying "I understand".

When I heard someone say that, that he understood, that he knew what I was going through, I tried hard to suppress my emotions, but my tears betrayed me. How often do you hear that here, in a place where most of the time no one bothers to even try to get what someone is saying? When words come out of one's mouth, they vanish into thin air.

It's not easy to try to understand someone. It takes time and patience and a good ear to achieve that. And understanding is not the end of one task as a friend. It is only the beginning of a commitment to go through something together. And that is even more daunting.

This is why I have respect for a person who holds a friend's hand and is not afraid to say "I understand". Because I know the consequences of saying those words. I understand.

As much as I love my K800i, it is no longer working properly.
I will bring it to the service centre and see if the people behind the counter can still revive it.
I would still like to continue using it. It had never let me down until it drowned inside my bag.
My mineral water bottle decided to open itself to keep me from making very important work-related phone calls.

I finally decided to use my Nokia Navigator, after much hesitation.
I never found the need to use a GPS, and always relied on the driver's memory whenever I went somewhere.
Today though, I was pleased at myself for using it.
It told us to make a crucial exit that will take us out of Abu Dhabi and back to our office.
We must have saved an hour because of that turn.

If only I have GPS for everything, a device I can consult when I have to make decisions that would potentially change my life. Should I do this, should I do that, what do I wear, where do I go. Do I make peace with him, do I leave him alone, do I tell him off for being a jerk. Am I finally going on a diet, am I leaving town, am I drinking too much? Are they the ones I should hang out with, am I willing to sacrifice something precious to me for a person who is only a potential mate. Is this place safe, is this thing worth buying, am I not allowed to be sad for a moment. Should I go now, should I leave, should I stay, should I completely ignore it or tackle it head on.

I will never finish. Imagine the thousands of decisions we have to make. Every day.
And it all boils down to our guided (or misguided) judgment.

But maybe this is precisely why I love my K800i. It doesn't tell me what to do.

Good Night

I went home at 4 in the morning, pleased at myself for being extra sociable.
I attended two Halloween parties, not ashamed of being underdressed or irrelevant.

I had to work today and though there was not much to do in the office, I felt tired.
The mere thought (and reality) of being at work on a Saturday consumes me.

I thought a nice dinner with a friend would cap my day, and I would go to bed constipated, dreaming of some toilet action.

But like I always find out, the day is never finished until I close my eyes and start snoring.
At this very moment, a few minutes before bedtime, I find myself listening to a Russian lullaby that is gently putting me to sleep.

Good night!

I am waging a war against feeling ugly.
In high school I always thought being pretty was a sin.
I despised my schoolmates who wore lipstick in class and powdered their noses at lunch.
But I didn't really understand the importance of having all these beauty products until I finally bought some of my own.

They could save your life.
It's not like that age-defying cream actually has the power to stop the crow's feet from branching out around your eyes, or that moisture rich lipstick can make a guy kiss you.
It's the feeling of knowing that you are taking care of yourself.
Everytime I enter our bathroom and see the heaps of shampoos and soaps and shower gels and mud packs I have bought or have been given to me, I sigh in satisfaction.
This is how much I take care of myself.

I get a high out of taking a whiff of my perfumes and stirring the paste I use to stick on my gel bra (which is my greatest possession, they stick and seamlessly BECOME my breasts, without the fussy straps and bulky wires). I slather on my lotion like there's no tomorrow. My papaya bubble bath is a cheap thrill that guarantees a good relaxing weekend.

By the time I finish showering and get dolled up and ready to have a good time (usually at the karaoke bar), I have become a concoction of all these wonderful beauty aids that --- though manufactured by rabid capitalists for my consumption and my wallet's grief --- give me reason to think that I am not wasting away.

Blind dates don't always work out; work isn't always a piece of cake; weekends are not always as fun as I would like them to be. But I don't kill myself because I know I have done more than enough to make myself feel good under no matter the circumstances.

I just read what I wrote and it sounded downright silly. Oh well.

But silly is the last thing I feel when I peel off my citrus-scented Vitamin C mask.

Oman

From Tuesday to Thursday, I kept myself warm under the soft sheets of the Shangrila Muscat. It was a trip for work, but the organizers did such a good job at making us feel as if we were on a holiday.

My room had an excellent view. The great Omani landscape greeted me a good morning, and the weather was perfect for sun bathing and haing mojitos by the pool.

The Muscat Airport was a modest building of traditional architecture. Not many people travelled except for the holiday makers and businessmen, who are probably heading for Dubai.

The city is quiet compared to Dubai, which has a nuerotic way about it. In Muscat, I heard a spacious one bedroom apartment near the business district would not cost more than 250 Omani Riyal, which is exactly 2,500 Dirhams. Good deal. For some reason, I didn't feel pressured to think about work, even though that was what I was doing the whole time. In the evenings we had a drink or two before going back to our hotel rooms, where I read a book in the bath and watched TV to put me to sleep.

But minus the Shangrila and the mountains and the low rise Arabic establishments peppered all over town, Muscat would still be a great city. Their people are their real asset.

The Omanis are the best. They have the most sincere smiles and the genuine desire to make sure that your experience in Oman is nothing but the best. They engage in a conversation with a semi-stranger like me, a chat that goes beyond meaningless small talk and devoid of pretenses. I would love to go back there and say hello once again to the people I met and took care of us.

They don't know how much I appreciate their warmth and care. It was a much needed break from the bright lights and the cranky people, and its all I need to go back to work on Sunday with a smile on my face.

Hu Hu Hu

I discovered that right before my monthly period, I cry. Uncontrollably. Ridiculously.
The reasons are not even worth mentioning, really.
But that's not to say they're irrelevant. They're only small things, true, but when they happen right before my period, they are the last straw.

Like that time I couldn't get a cab in Media City. On a normal day in my menstrual calendar, I would simply sigh and try to find another way to reach my destination. But I was ovulating. When I hailed the last cab driver who rejected me, I raised hell. I think I told him to --- a tree, then broke down at the bus stop. Or that time I couldn't say no to a friend's party. I put on my pre-menstrual face the whole evening, complaining about the food and the music and the weather. Or the weekend nobody was free. I thought the world has deserted me, so I out on ACAMP's Song for the Leftovers while sobbing in the mirror.

But I also realized today, after shedding my September tears, that crying every month does wonders for me. I feel so much better! Calm, inspired, strong. The negative energy falls off together with the tears, and I am stripped of issues once again, or at least have managed to get rid of their dead skin, often provokingly ugly, sitting on the surface, waiting to be dispelled. Until we meet again the following month.

Next month I wonder what I'll cry about. How about the stench in International City? Or the lack of space in the office? Or my weight (crowd favorite -- and by crowd I mean hormones)?

I hope I didn't ruffle some feathers there
I only want to let myself in
If you tell me to go away
Then I don't have a choice, do I?

I hope I didn't say the wrong words then
If I used kinder ones, would you still be around?
I only wanted to see the truth
What are you afraid of?

I hope you're really busy like you said
Not hiding from me, I'm not hunting you down
No I don't want to shake your hand
I found out it's dirtier than mine

You know your blog is starting to suck if your shoutout box is full of messages from automated rubbish.

Today was not a very nice day at work.

I had gone out to cover a small event, from which I was sure I could approach someone and get the information I wanted. It turned out it was more complicated than that. The man I tried to build a rapport with and painstakingly made myself known to, had opted to keep his silence in my company. The minute another person --- male, same nationality as his --- came up to him, he opened his mouth in a big smile, slapping the lanky fellow like they were old friends. Happily distracted by small talk, he was oblivious to the rest of us who were struggling to rub elbows with him, solely for the sake of getting our job done. I noticed though, that I was the least likely to achieve that. I didn't want to think the reason was my skin color or my appearance. Surely racism is a thing of the past, and anyone who would dare think he is being manipulated by the twisted notion of superiority by virtue of ethnic origin must have low self-esteem. It's a borderless society, the highly educated men in suits say. But if the lock of the gate to accomplishing a simple task glares at me with they key nowhere in sight, where do I go? It's hard to break down borders, especially the invisible ones. Many people choose to literally turn around and refuse to see the helplessness of those who are capable, but turned down over and over again for reasons that ultimately look silly.

At the end of the day, I choose to take it with a grain of salt. I refuse to live in bitterness and stop knocking on doors. On other days, I get lucky and make friends with nice people who see people not as crayons that can be disposed if they do not create a bright picture of the society, but as souls anyone can connect with, taking similarity of interests and feelings into consideration.

I keep on telling myself that I am too young to care about these things. At the same time, the issue of racism is getting too old. I hope that it dies soon, so that I will never ever have to encounter it again.

What's Up What the Hell Did I Just Write

I overheard two men talking about success.
Man number one is a middle-aged successful product of a capitalist society, and man number two is a twenty-something happy-go-lucky guy who maxes out his credit cards on signature clothes and doesn't have a clue how the world goes round.
M1 tells M2 to take it slow, don't get married yet. The world is not about that.
Make money and get women. That's how you know you've reached the peak of success.
Women will start flocking to you and you don't have to marry the first dreamy-eyed girl you've slept with.
Wow. Men must have it really good. They read their forefathers' biographies and found out that marriage is no longer an integral part of a life worth living. A man can get pleasure and does not have to stick it out with someone who will soon turn into an old nagging hag, just by having a huge trust fund.
That must explain why there are countless of women who settle for men they know they could never have. They are ok with that, as long as they are slapped with fat wallets and showered compliments that border on dirty and tasteless.

And that's okay, that's their right. I believe a recent generation of the female species stood up to their ex male lovers who reeked of machismo and put their nerve-embossed brawns in their place --- a dark one, where their mistresses no longer cry when they feel neglect, which could only mean they are eyeing another rack-and-bumper set; where kisses planted on their bodies don't have the warmth that indicates true love but a part of a game they started playing, hoping all beings cursed with X chromosomes also possess the stupid gene; where women have already caught up with the idea that romance to their partners are nothing but three-hour rendezvous, a machine that stops in the absence of physical connection, and they now utilize this idea to their advantage. What did they expect from the smarter sex?

While some women are merely coping with the reality that most men live their lives keeping the lower part of their bodies satisfied, others have actually realized that they don't have to pretend or ride along. They can take the lead. And again a recent generation's gradual yet powerful revolution made this possible. Successful women in designer suits can be seen picking up men in bars; high school girls seduce their college crushes instead of only dreaming about them, knowing that showing the goods is all it takes to get what they want; waitresses write their numbers on the napkin they serve along with the steak that the George Clooney lookalike ordered. And so on. The girls are marching on naked, towards a goal that would put Christopher Columbus to shame.

While an individual female may view this as the next logical step towards empowering women, I am starting to think it's dangerous. It's almost creeping me out. I've seen and heard the worst and it won't be impossible to see girls dating pet dogs, as a reaction to men's general behavior. I think we beautiful creatures should start pulling our counterparts back to the ideal world. We're known to be very inspiring and warm and genuine, and that doesn't have to change. I hope we don't let the men take us to a dark place devoid of all we ever want to happen in a relationship.

I kind of want true love to hang around longer, just in case I need it some day.

I gave up canned food (except for tuna) and instant noodles recently, and it feels good knowing that I'm not lugging around kilos of MSG and other artificial ingredients that would eventually kill me.
I am planning to give up smoking soon, by reading the book Simon gave me, called Easy Way to Stop Smoking. If only there was a book called Easy Way to Stop Dancing In Front of the Mirror Like A Retard When There Is Nothing Else To Do. Oh well now that I've mentioned it, maybe someone will take on the idea.
I am planning to give up lots of things, not only for the sake of feeling light, but in order to accommodate many other things that I have always wanted to include in my life. The problem was, I was too preoccupied with stuff that proved to be useless time and again. I just ignored them in order to avoid change, which I used to feel very inferior to.
So now I am getting rid of some things so I can do lots of other things. I can't name them all, because they're all too random to list down. A few would be to flirt more when the occasion calls for it, drink lots of water, and scrub my knees harder in the shower.
Hopefully write beauitfully.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Inevitable. It's just there, slowly creeping its way towards me as the big day approaches.
All the fears I usually come face to face with are much harder to handle, perhaps due to the frustration of not having killed them yesterday, when I was a year younger.

Six years ago when I was nineteen and wandering in the middle of the Aurora-Katipunan junction, thoughts of my future filled my mind.

I ruled out the possibility of being a news reporter, which I had always wanted to become, because it just didn't fit my personality then. I smoked like a chimney, did stand-up comedy, and struggled to earn the respect of the people I looked up to.

I also dismissed the thought of going out of the country to look for other options in my career or otherwise. Couldn't live without my family: Mama and her home-cooked meals, best served with gossip and lots of laughter; Zoe and her way of avoiding a conversation with big sister, just how girls in their puberty should behave. Couldn't live without my friends. I always enjoyed hanging out with my high school friends. Those nights on Katipunan Road never ended, they merely stopped to give way to distractions such as work and higher studies, and resumed, complete with the ladies' drinks and a session that consisted of jokes that would put Family Guy and The Office to shame. The CDG gang's taste in idle entertainment was a lot different, involving trips to the gay bar and karaoke-ing until the sun set on Tomas Morato.

I loved those days, when my monthly expenses excluded rent and laundry, and consisted of food, booze and concealer. And I rarely found myself alone. Somehow, just when I would sit in a corner and think of what to do, my phone would ring and ina matter of minutes I was saying hello again to the city's bright lights, and saying goodbye to what could have been a moment of loneliness.

Before I knew it I was in the most cosmopolitan city in the Middle East, reporting for a local TV station and missing everyone back home. A combination of bizarre circumstances brought me here. Until now I am neither objecting nor wishing to undo any of the events that occurred in the past two and a half years, because they are essentially the turning point of my life. Now, with that bloody rollercoaster ride over, I am excited to see what else fate is concocting to bring a new flavor into my life.

The small gestures of people and the most trivial occurrences make me feel fortunate, and this urges me to pass on the blessings to other who deserve it. Yes, leading an interesting life abroad, even for a only a couple of years, teaches you to become less selfish. I had always wanted the kind of freedom that gives meaning in one's life, and I think I possess it. I understand now how it is to be truly free. And somehow, this realization made me a little less scared of the future. I truly appreciate what I have and I am happy to share it. And that's one way to get rid of fear, uncovering more about my purpose.

But I still dislike the fact that I am turning 26. Late twenties is the new garbage.

My weekend was not a blast, but rather a pleasant, easy one.
I learned some things that, though didn't cause any form of intellectual stimulation, made me smile and think that the world could be as sunny as I would like it to be... minus the scorching heat of the Dubai sun.

From Avril Lavigne poser rocker chick, my sister Zoe now wants to become a Harajuku girl. While my mom was on the phone with me, I could hear her telling Zoe what a bad idea putting on eyeliner before bedtime was. But Zoe insisted that it was what girls do in Japan. Japan. What did she know about that country, that earned a reputation in the Philippines as a place where underaged singers in the province could make a fortune singing and giving lap dances to yakuzas. But all right, I'm a good sister and I love my dear Zoe, so I agreed to buy her a colorful tube dress, fish net stockings and a make up set in flamboyant colors. My sister just turned thirteen, but this fact doesn't disturb me at all. I know that in a few weeks she'll embark on a nother journey of exploring her real identity. I'm just praying she won't go down the road Amy Winehouse did. No TB patients in the family, please.

I started reading Kate Adie's The Kindness of Strangers. It was nothing but inspirational, having found out that this tough war correspondent for the BBC also had her boo boos, from announcing the wrong scores of a celebrated game (can't remember the sport) on the radio, to transmitting a tree, which she had mistaken for one of the guys in their team who was supposed to do a piece to camera amidst the morning haze in some country (I also forgot. Some journalist.). I would like to think that I still have a lot to learn, and I just have ot be patient with myself and remain zealous and inquisitive. Oh, and she also produced a farming program on the radio, which I thought was charming. If there is one program I would like to produce, regardless of the format and the medium, it would resemble the kind of humor and braveness of Family Guy, a program that can feature anything, including farts and the bitter reality that a father of three was diagnosed as retarded.

I watched The Love Guru with Ethel, and I must say that Justin Timberlake delivered a bravura performance, which included pretending that he was well-hung. His attempt at speaking with a French accent was awful though, but I guess I wouldn't know how Quebecans actually do it. My ex-boyfriend was surely funnier, even thoug he didn't really want to be. That's part of the fabric of his being, his hideous accent. Mike Myers was amazing, one of the many reasons being his effort to bring two elephants to a crucial hockey game that would decide the fate of the protagonistic team, and urging them to hump like anything to stall the opponents.

I bought a new shampoo, and I am hoping against hope that it will not make my face itch like Pantene does. At this moment I'm having to pause typing every ten seconds just to scratch my right cheek. On my face. Near my scalp, which is the only part of my body I shampoo.

Family Guy rocks. I love that series, and I watch the episodes over and over again. It gives me a sense of belongingness, knowing that I am not the only one (along with the millions of the show's viewers) who finds pleasure in jokes about fecal matter, retardation, body odor and so on. Plus the facts that the family's baby Stewie is the smartest of them all, and the household dog Brian actually dates hot human females. I am in love with the show. Hope it's in love with me too.

My stomach used to hurt from laughing
At something random and obscure
I used to rest my head on your shoulder
When the long ride became a bore
I would tell you stories about my family
And how we visited seven churches
And the one about Magnolia Ice Cream house
Was no doubt your favorite
I used to call you in the middle of the night
And ask you to meet you-know-where
That well-lit strip in the middle of the city
Once again it's coffee upstairs
We would walk uphill to have shawarmas
And maybe a beer or two
Blurt out the names of our highschool classmates
Forgetting who was who
We used to roll on the grass and talk nonsense
And never want to go home
You used to say my love life would turn out better
Than that of Bridget Jones
We used to go to the slums and raid a beerhouse
And work the jukebox til dawn
We had coins and a few crumpled bills
Hell yeah, we owned the microphone
And the burlesque queen and the macho men
Were no match to your moves
You did a mean Christina Aguilera
And spun around in your pointed boots
Remember Valentines Day when we were single
We spent it with men in thongs
Watching them dance gave us quite a laugh
Until the Mama San came along
Humming My Humps while scavenging for smokes
And walking all the way home
The jeepneys were alive and the ladies were dancing
But it's time to see our folks
One the beach we dressed our men like skanky hoes
And paraded them around
Remember when we broke up in smaller groups
You guys were nowhere to be found
My face was red from too much beer
And the little boy wanted to talk
So I taught him a lesson, he learned really fast
We kept the door unlocked
I was crying in a place where I didn't belong
There you were, panting like anything
It was vision in life that brought us together
In a place where we could sing
You were speeding on the highway
And you wanted some support
So I slept for two hours straight
I wanted conflict and bitterness
But you said you needed rest
I apologized but it was too late
I found myself having a Martini
In the middle of your graveyard shift
I told you everything that meant nothing
You nodded while I threw a fit
Spilled carbonara on the floor of McDonalds
Right before the big trip
Eight girls in a jacuzzi in colorful bikinis
That's how we wanted it
We were metal band groupies
And Divisoria junkies
Driving down EDSA again
To follow them rockstars
No matter how far
We were morons to our friends
Well I wanted to watch him
Watch my little sister
Scream Agent Orange with all her might
You wanted him to have
That yellow wrist band that you bought
At a bazaar the other night
So I boarded the plane and waved good bye
And you laughed until you cried
Hell yeah we were funny
But this one's pretty serious
It's much longer than good night

Friday

Friday
Crack down on lonely hearts
Get up form under the covers
Take a cold cold shower
Put on your best dress
The one withred flowers on it
Waterproof mascara
Is enough to make you
Smile in the mirror
The warm breeze
Hikes up your skirt
As you hail a cab
And swing your purse
30 minutes of neon lights
Honking and listening
To one hit wonders
The radio excites you
Revolving doors
His, hellos
Blue drinks and crisps
Dim lights
And Elton John
They all go together
On a Friday night
You grab the mic
And clear your throat
And you sing Sheryl Crow
Like there's no tomorrow
Like Simon Cowell
Is watching you
From the disco ball
Cheesy tracks
Blasting the speakers
For the singles and couples
And divorcees to hear
Laughing with acquaintances
Dancing with strangers
The world is yours
Until 3 AM
When you hop into a cab
And you're head's spinning
Blue vomit in the toilet
And toothpaste in the sink
That's how you know
Friday's come to an end

The sun here is rude
Always in my face
Every day on my case
Leaving me dry and thirsty

Ethel's birthday is in 30 minutes, and we're both exhausted.
She just wanted to have peace and quiet tonight, followed by some good movies which she usually watches in isolation in her bed, complete with her massive headphones that helps her shut off the rest of the world.

My birthday is coming up in less than a month, and I am excited.
I know that at 26, I have done things I never thought I could, with the help of angels who disguised themselves as friends, bosses and boyfriends.

Two and a half years in Dubai was not a piece of cake.
I had to survive eviction (not because of non-payment, thank you very much), break ups, rejection and loneliness, and the long, unfriendly oven-hot summers did not help. But I can confidently say that they are all a thing of the past, and now I am entering a a new chapter in my life. It's unfamiliar territory, nevertheless I welcome it, ambiguities and all.

So now after what seemed like forever, I am learning driving. Some people who have been driving forever may get a kick out of this fact, but I am too psyched to think about them. For me it is something that could not have come at a better time.

And I am also planning a few things that involve a lot of hard work, determination, positive thinking and prayers.

I read some of my blog entries in 2005. Wow. I actually thought I would be stuck print scanning every Sunday for the rest of my life. Now I am stil working on Sundays, but I don't mind. I love Sundays and every day of the week.

So my point is, I've changed my attitude. And I now perceive everything as an easy job, maybe because I had already gone through the worst. So at 26, I am confident that I will achieve more and become better. Every single day, I learn something. Every single day I meet someone interesting. Every single day I actually feel alive and ready to live for a hundred more years. And every single day, I am thankful.

Proximity is king.
I was pining for my then new neighbor and monitoring his daily ETA, and every single time I took out the trash and walked past his flat, I got a high.
It was excitment at its best, with a rather cliche theme.
But one day his car wasn't in the parking lots anymore, and I stopped seeing him in the lift and bumping into him in the hallway.
My heart sank. Every day I felt queasy and uninspired, neglecting to take out the trash and fixing my hair.
But all things come to an end, and sulking over the disappearance of my hot neighbor was no exception.
I forgot all about him in a week. Completely.
So days passed by, and I read books and went out with new people and and cut my hair ridiculously short and went shopping and singing on weekends.
Everything transpired like a swift memory, like a moment in my life in passing.
The other night, while I was in the middle of my pre bedtime reading, my doorbell rang.
It was him.
HE was back from a trip.
A long one.
When I looked at him, I didn't feel the same tingling sensation I used to feel whenever our eyes met in the hallway.
There was simply nothing in his eyes, or in mine.
We said good night, and that was it.
When someone goes away, you lose them and it takes a massive amount of effort to bring back what you had with them.
And I don't have the energy to do that right now.
No effort. Just coasting along.
Proximity is king.

I expected more from my tomato alphabet soup. On the packet, it looked delectable and fun, with all those letters floating around. But when I cooked it, the letters sank to the bottom of the bowl and all I could see was orange liquid. When I was trying to scoop them with my spoon, they emerged broken. I couldn't recognize them. I couldn't see the Es, the Rs, I just saw a bunch of finely cut up noodles, and for a moment I wondered if the characters were in Arabic.

How random would that be?
Me, eating tomato soup in the middle of the desert.
Tomato soup with Arabic characters in it.

Finally! I had 8 hours of sleep last night! I feel fresh! Plus my hair's sticking out funny, which is exactly how I like it. I had my first shoot at 930 AM, so that jumpstarted my day, and then later in the afternoon I'll be meeting a bunch of prominent Filipinos at the FilExpo event.

I love life. Again.

I had a hair cut. It's my first time I am wearing my hair this short in Dubai. It's always been straight and long. I feel so much lighter, but at the same time I am a bit insecure. My long hair was always something that people liked about me, at least my expat friends. I feel like I have exposed my big face, among other parts of me.

In Manila I had no problem cutting my hair super short, and not styling it. I know that every strand, whether in place or otherwise, represented me --- flakiness and all. Now I feel there are many things that I shouldn't be revealing to people, mainly because they are not ready to accept them.

I have secrets, and they are best kept in a place like this, where people have different backgrounds, opinions and interpretations of things. And I can't not give a rat's ass about them, because I am dealing with them every day and I need to maintain cordial relations with every one if I want my life to be conflict-free.

I don't think I am creating conflict within myself though. On the contrary, I think I am being myself. I am a born pleaser. I live to please people and get their approval. Not a good thing, but this attitude pushes me to do more, to do my best.

So yeah this hair cut might turn out to be a good thing after all. How? I'm going to find out soon.

Nobody does it better, according to Carly Simon. I’ve been singing that song at the karaoke bar for ages and I still haven’t found someone good, let alone someone who does it better.

Highlights of my work week:

1. I got my business cards today. Yay!
2. I got some stuff from my mother, courtesy of Roy. I wore one of the tops she gave me at an event yesterday.
3. I alphabetized by business cards. Lorna also gave me an address book so I can list down all the numbers I’ve written on pieces of paper which are now kept under my drawer.
4. Someone gave me flowers. They’re lovely. You should see me now, I’m blushing.
5. Touch My Body played on the radio twice today, and Rasool and I got a kick out of it.
6. I attended a press conference by the government. It was about how they planned to prevent fires. On the same day a fire broke out in Al Quoz.
7. I slept nine and a half hours the other day and 9 hours yesterday.
8. Decided to do something about my weight. Today is my last day snacking on lard. I had a cheeseburger, fries, pork menudo and rice. I’m jumbo Zeena today. Tomorrow is a new day.
9. I am no longer constipated, thank you very much.
10. I am smoking less.

At the age of 18, I was inevitably thrown into the world of dating, a shocking experience that was further worsened by the fact that it had to naturally take place after my turbulent puberty years, when I was chubby, insecure and clueless about boys --- qualities that repel men.

My first few dates were not successful, but my fears of not getting the hang of this whole dating thing were assuaged when I had my first boyfriend. We lasted almost three years, and towards the end of the relationship, I realized I have not reached the end of the road yet. In fact, it was just the beginning of a long and sometimes frustrating journey to not being single. And so I went out on blind dates, and some of them might as well have been literally blind. Some of them were creeps. I bet the others thought I was the creep.

And this journey seems far from over. A number of reasons. 1. I am only 25 years old; a serious relationship that may lead to marriage is not an option. 2. I am single and still looking, and I am not one to approach someone I fancy, so I guess waiting is the most stupid but safest thing to do in order to not mess things up with a guy. 3. I have not met anyone I want to be with for a very long time. My male friend says it’s all about excitement. I want a guy because he is new, and we have a lot of things to talk about and laugh at and make fun of. Once that fun phase is over, discontent takes charge and I lose sight of any future that might have been miserable anyway.

And I am not in any way unique in this department. Millions of women suffer from dating dilemmas at any given time. Our stories are everywhere. We were portrayed by Bridget Jones and mocked in many other chick flicks, written about by countless of chick lit authors, turned into statistics by bachelors who don’t have anything better to do than divulge information about their conquests, and pitied by the ones who are hooked up.

But the focus has been so much on us that we fail to take a peek at the other side of the fence, where countless of nerds, dorks and chumps cringe at the thought of not getting the girl they like, or not getting a girl at all. And their story was made clear to me through a book called The Game, written by Neil Strauss. He talked about his experiences socializing with allegedly the world’s best pick up artists, who could steal a guy’s girlfriend under his nose in minutes. I am not yet finished with the book, but I am resigned to the idea that yes, guys also have it bad. Strauss made it clear that the book is a factual account of how he mingled and emulated different pick up artists, whose techniques ranged from magic tricks to a list of cocky-funny jokes they have used hundreds of times to hook up with hundreds of girls. However I still couldn’t believe such men existed (either that or I was not worth the trouble of having to bring all those props just to get my phone number), so I went online and looked them up. And there they were, the websites freely available to all the guys who want to get laid fast and all the girls who want to know how men actually seal the deal. www.puatraining.com and www.themysterymethod.com are only two of the most popular websites on this subject matter, and I’ll leave all the details for you to research.

Learning about this nonsense -- which these men claim as an art/science/result of extensive research in psychology – has made me feel more cautious and suspicious of intentions. If a guy has genuine feelings, he would not resort to phony methods and project a false image to start friendship with a girl. I must admit, suave guys are really a turn-on, but finding out that all this pizzazz roots from insecurity --- the feeling I hate the most --- and takes elaborate practice, then there’s nothing more disgusting and irritating and… well, disappointing.

I am wary of bachelors out there, but more than that, I am on the look out for the simple guys, who are nice and offer nothing but a simple hello. No matter how witty pick up lines are, I now think they’re all lame. Even the prospect of having more excitement in my life isn’t enough reason to make me write my number on a piece of tissue paper. Schemers may kick off fast, but they also kill it as soon as girls find out about their phony act. Nice* guys don’t finish last. They simply last longer.

Nice here is used in the context of genuineness. It pertains to guys who are not aware of any game or schemes, or may be aware of them but do not bother to use them. They may be arrogant, dorky, or plain, but at least they are true and are not evil enough to fool girls, making them nice.

When you're searching your soul,
When you're searching for pleasure
How often, pain is all you'll find?
But when you're coasting along
And nobody's trying too hard
You can turn around and like where you are

-When I'm Thinking About You, The Sundays

Sick

I'm not well. I haven't been for the past week. I guess I was just in denial because I didn't want to miss dinners, karaoke dates, good stuff at work. But now the heat and my bad eating and drinking habits have taken a toll on my health,and I need to keep it in check. So I finally acknowledged that I am sick, and I am going to be better by the end of the day, Tomorrow, I will kick ass at work. I am looking forward to an evening of nothing. No karaoke, we're supposed to mourn the death of the ruler's brother.

Today I made a list of things to do, and I've checked almost half of them. I already washed my underwear (not the most fun on the list, for sure), cooked lunch for myself and Eve, swept the floor, cleaned the bathroom, shaved all unwanted hair, soaked my feet in this minty concoction, and had tea to aid my stupid indigestion.


I've realized that denial actually worsened my illness. I was sick and dehydrated but still went to Ajman and walked under the sun --- 45 degrees or higher --- for three, four hours. By the time I got home yesterday, I was vomiting and pooping and had a bad bad headache and felt my stomach contracting like crazy. Gross right?

Well, now I plan to get better. I want to end the work week with a bang, just like how I started it. I want to enjoy my weekend by making it well-deserved. More importantly, I'll try to enjoy it without drinking. Ok maybe a mojito to quench my thirst.

Plus I need to sleep. All the eye cream in the world will never be be good enough to replace 8 hours of sleep every day. I can't keep on living like a zombie. It's not right. It's messing up my brains and giving me headaches.

And I need to go out. See new places. I've been going to the same bars and coffee shops and restaurants and I need a change. Maybe that's what's making me feel sick. Sick and tired. I'm doing the same old thing, feeling the same old feelings, and chaining myseld to routine. Tsk tsk tsk.

Ok on the weekend, I will do something different. Maybe wear a wig, meet a new friend, or try new food.

This is exactly the kind of thing that makes me a little kinder, and things a little more visible to me.
Last evening I was enjoying a glass of Baileys and milk when the doorbell rang. I eagerly opened the door to find a Chinese lady with bags full of copy copy DVDs.
My knee-jerk reaction has always been to say "no money, she she..." and shut the door.
And then I realized, the Chinese lady was human too. And I needed someone --- anyone --- to keep my mind off the very distracting and destructive thought of the boy next door.
So I let her in and bought what seemed like a 1000-in-1 DVD for only 20 AED. Not bad. Not bad at all.
So she thanked me and kept on smiling like she was trying to tell me something. While I didn't want to answer her with my meaningless forced smiling, I got creative. I opened the BBC website and showed her the pictures of the recent earthquake in China. Her face fell. Ok I just ruined her day.
Anyway we ended our chat happily, by exchanging She She's. And she promised to be back. When she's back I hope I won't ignore her anymore.
Even if I had my life back.
So there. I can't believe certain feelings soften your boundaries and allow you to be more open to others.
This is the kind of feeling that makes you finally buy a DVD from the Chinese lady you usually shooed away on a normal day.
This is the kind of feeling that makes you buy hair spray.
This is the kind of feeling that discourages you to eat like a trucker.
This is the kind of feeling that makes you watch the movies and read the books you've put off for so long.
This is the kind of feeling that just makes you stand in front of the mirror and dance to Glamorous by Fergie.
And make sure that your hair is the right kind of messy.
And sleep on Desperate Housewives dreaming of killing Terri Hatcher.

And I don't understand
Why trivial feels good
It flows in my bloodstream
Though it never should

I want to walk away
But it runs towards me
Awakens my senses
Sets me free

It's a nasty stain
An awkward joke
A friendlly banter
Another prolonged hoax

I can't believe I spilled red wine all over his new sofa. It's peach, and it's four days old. And yes, I could tell he was livid inside. How could he show anger to a lady who has obviously reapplied lip gloss a dozen times and combed her hair so that the fringes rested excatly on her cheeks, giving him the opportunity to brush them with his fingers? He kept that Joker-like smile on his face, and I was still happy he had the decency not to throw me out of his place, even though I conveniently live next door.

Nevertheless, I think, his kind forgiveness was a complete act. Not a good one even. I spilled wine on myself first before I accidentally splashed it on the sofa. My cute top, my skirt. All over me. If I walked out in the hall way my other neighbors would think I was fermenting. And yet he never even bothered to ask if I was okay. He asked if I wanted to wash my skirt (which would mean I would have to step out of his bathroom skirtless), and I refused. He could have just shown some concern. The way he looked at his poor peach sofa, and the way he scrubbed it silly with a stain remover, you'd think I wasn't there. But I had to be there because I spilled the wine.

He's a furniture freak. But why would a man redecorate his house fifty seven times solely for his pleasure? I have not heard of furniture fetish, but I DO know that gay people are the best in furniture design. It's their passion.

Speaking of passion, I am not very passionate about this thing. He's my next door neighbor and if we got too involved, I would mess things up. Big time. And even in my building I wouldn't be able to move around with liberty. This morning I had to take the stairs because his friends crashed his place last night and we found ourselves heading for the lift at 8 AM. I didn't want to exchange awkward looks with them in the lift, so I ran down three floors (panting and all) just to catch my bus.

That was absolutely appalling. I hope I don't have too many cute neighbors. Ok one more wouldn't hurt.

Dating has always been an exciting part of my life. Most of the time though, I am not in the dating loop.

In a year, maybe five guys would ask for my number, two of them would actually call, and well, those two are most likely to just mess it up before the third date.

There are times when I get a little impatient, but most of the time I just sit back and relax. Oh and drink.

Last week the guy next door (literally the guy in the flat next to ours) asked for my number. We said hi while waiting for the lift and then in the lift, we exchanged How are yous. And then on the ground floor, he out down his coffee mug and whipped out his... mobile phone and asked for my number. Great. Last evening he said we should get together some time. So the big question is, will we be able to do that? And the bigger question is, are we going to get along? If not then I would have to take a longer route going to my flat just to avoid his door.

My point is, ok this stage is very exciting, and I can't wait to see how this turns out. If he turned out to be an idiot, I would be so disappointed.

I never for the life of me imagined myself in this position, at this point of my life. The stakes are higher now, but I have never been more comfortable with what I am doing. My family is also facing some tough challenges.

However seemingly overwhelming, I think that all these simultaneous changes are not an accident. After all, the whole universe knows that Mama and Zoe are two of the strongest females I have ever known, the one and only reason they are facing a lot of intertwined transitions that are bound to turn our life around as a family.

I moved to a new flat with Ethel. It's probably the boldest move I've done in the first quarter of the year. Why not? the place is nice. It's fully furnished, the neighborhood is quiet, and the things I need are accessible within the area. I am still close to my friends and I have nothing to worry about when it comes to getting some rest after a long day at work. We have a nice living area, a dining area where I can have wine and write in my journal, a nice balcony where I can sit back, relax and watch my neighbors play basketball or park their cars like idiots, and of course our very our kitchen where I can experiment with ... well, food. I don't know. I'll probably boil some potatoes tonight. Or tomorrow.

I have been losing sleep these days... but don't worry, it's not over something bad. Jel lent me a DVD of this reality series called In the Lot, where upcoming directors compete to work with Stephen Spielberg and score a million dollar deal with Dreamworks. Not bad. I like watching 20 different movies in one sitting, hence the eye bags. Plus the host, Adriana Costa is one of the most beautiful girls I have seen. So there. Perfect recipe for insomnia.

Work is also very very rewarding. I have been doing my job well enough for me not to worry about losing it, so that can't be a bad thing.

My mom and I are constantly communicating, so I am not worried about her and my sister. We have never been closer. I love that feeling. I am going to chase it forever.

On the weekend I think I will get some sleep and visit a few friends. I kind of want some time alone. A few well-deserved days off just to recharge and regain my zest for life.

Oh, and yesterday I cleaned my toe nails. Yes, after much cruel criticism from colleagues and friends, I decided to push back those cuticles a bit and scrub that dead skin off my big toe.

Ummm yeah I guess that's it.

My colleagues punked me today.
They involved our big boss and they totally made my armpits sweat like anything.
Anyway I think it was a great idea for me to just shut up and own up to my mistake.
Or else I would have looked like an idiot in front of everyone in the boss's office.
I actually feel kinda special. No one has ever pulled an April Fool prank on me.
In a way, yeah I am honored. Stupid to be thinking so but what the hell.
Ok I admit it. I was hung over yesterday, and wasn't able to go to work.
Many would think that was retarded, but I say I'm human and I wasn't about to show up at work reeking of alcohol.
Plus I felt so guilty I made sure my story for today was comprehensive.

I totally messed up at work today. And I wasn't even there. Long story.
But tomorrow hopefully I can do a much better job.
That was such a disgusting move. Wrong. Wrong.
Loved the wine though.

Why I am Excited to Move

I am moving into a new flat in four days and I am excited! There are a few reasons actually:

1. I am moving into a fully furnished studio apartment with only one roommate, which means more space for myself and less computations when paying for stuff like water and electricity.

2. I am much happier that the other three times I moved, no hang ups or bad memories that go with the leaving and packing, and there are no saddening events that have transpired so far to make moving hell for me.

3. I really think that this is the next step to getting a place of my own. In a year I can probably get my own place and experience living alone, in every sense of the phrase. Well let's wish I would have found a decent boyfriend then. But who cares.
Me. I care.

4. I am increasing my expenses, which means I have no choice but to work harder and consequently earn more. You might think that working twice as hard would not necessarily mean getting compensated better, but I guess I don't have time to believe that. No matter how cynical this world may seem, as my friend had pointed out, if you just do whatever you want and feel it's right, then everything will fall into place. Everything.

5. I can cook, which is cool. I had started learning to make edible stuff at Colin's place, but I had to give it up when I moved into another place. Now I want to pursue that. My first dish would probably be something straight from my mom's recipe box.

6. There is a basketball court right in front of our building. Awesome. Total body work out without having to pay or worry about transportation. Cool.

These are just some of the reasons I am thrilled to move. Of course I am getting goosebumps just thinking about the additional expenses, but goosebumps are fine. Based on experience in live entertainment, goosebumps are a precedent to a successful performance. For sure.

5.

My Weekend

Yeah, I had a fun weekend.
Pooped from my very productive Abu Dhabi trip on Thursday. I headed straight to my friend's place to have wine and cheese. Minutes into our conversation, I fell asleep, snoring and all.
On Friday, Sherry and I went swimming at my friend's building, and I had an awesome time just trying to get some sun. I am seven shades darker now, no big deal.
In the evening, after a meeting, we went straight to the karaoke bar. Modesty aside, I kicked ass once again. I don't think there will ever come a time when I would suck at karaoke. At least with the songs I like. I would like to believe that together with my mastery of converting feelings of sadness and all the other loser thoughts that go with it into golden opportunities to creatively handle life's challenges, I have also developed an uncanny talent for singing like a pro. Of course I am kidding.
But what the hell. As long as I don't sing She's Always A Woman by Billy Joel ever again, I will continue to be fine and well-loved at that joint.
Ok so I went home Friday a bit tipsy and annoyed at a bunch or middle-aged Germans in grey suits who all tried their best to vex me when I was singing a Stevie Wonder song. Well, they failed. I emerged the victor. And they're still bald.
Saturday... hmm... I kicked off my day with a huge serving of The Office Season 3 episodes. Healthier than breakfast, if you asked me. Not only does it keep me from being hungry (I realized I had no food anyway), it makes me laugh. And there's nothing like loud laughter to start the day. Then I received a call from my friend Boki, and we bought coffee from the nearby petrol station. He dropped me off at my friend's building, where I took full advantage of the steam bath and sauna, and had lunch.
At 4 PM my neighbor picked me up and we went to Uptown Mirdif. I accomplished something that evening - I sent money to my friend. I told her to buy Mama a watch for her birthday, and she did! I was so happy because it was exactly what Mama wanted. Anything for my mother. Absolutely anything.
So we went around Uptown Mirdif, a charming place where you can breathe fresh air, go shopping for knick knacks, and look at the children going down the giant inflatable slide in the middle of the "plaza".
Then we met up with Jel and Johnny and we suddenly had this crazy idea to visit the karaoke bar in my soon-to-be apartment building. It was a big flop, mainly because of the quality of the sound in the place. We rocked.
So there. That was my weekend. Fully booked.
Uhhh.... no, there is no moral lesson to this story. I just wanted to write about my weekend. Feels good.
Thanks for reading.

life's questions

I filed a story today and it felt good to officially finish work at 11:30 in the morning. I had two lunches, both with rice. I know, what a pig right? But yesterday I had nothing to eat for lunch because I was in Abu Dhabi all day working my butt off. But you know what? It feels weird not having anything to do. I didn’t even have to choose between stuffing my face and reading hilarious The Office quotes on the net. I did both, and it was okay! I didn’t neglect any task or forget to do something. I was literally done with work even before lunch! Tomorrow I am going to Abu Dhabi again for another kick ass story, and even though I love Abu Dhabi and would actually consider living there if a good offer came my way, I hate having to go on a long trip only to reach a destination where you’re supposed to start working. Long trips are for holidays, otherwise just slit my throat and stitch it up when we get there.

Oh and today I didn’t take a shower. Don’t ask me why. Not that I’m uninspired or anything negative like that, it’s just that I had five minutes to prepare and I didn’t want to be late. Ok, my carpool was late. Big time. I was standing in front of my building for five, six minutes trying to look cool and patient, when I could have spent that precious time shampooing.

Ok so back to the main idea. I think I am happiest when I am given something to do. A very important task, perhaps a full-day coverage of a local celebration. Or a feature on those 8-foot monsters who roamed around Global Village, getting people to have their pictures taken with them for ten dirhams. What were their lives like? Did they have to do that because their mothers were sick? Or were they wealthy children who decided to turn their backs on their parents and their wealth for the sake of freedom? Or do they just want fame and glory?

You know what, these are the questions we need to be asking ourselves. I've had time to do it, because I’m so good I finished work at 11:30 AM. So yeah, when you do have free time, you can puzzle yourself with life’s questions.

Everyone is trying to save or earn more money. Everyone. Websites that used to headline stories about how to be a good partner in bed are now featuring too many stories on how to stretch a buck. Banks have been more aggressive, pushing people to spend in a less than obvious way. Yesterday the Aramex guy went through all that trouble to deliver a debit card from my bank, a piece of plastic that I am not using any time soon, simple because I have not asked for it. I know convenience is also one reason I was given a debit card, but it’s more convenient if I weren’t tempted to spend more knowing that I can pay for almost anything with a shiny blue plastic shoot.

A handful of currencies have increased in value because of the dwindling value of the greenback, but more are being affected by this phenomenon. My dirhams are worth only a little more than ten pesos, as compared to almost fifteen just two years ago. My food is more expensive now, and as much as I want to find myself a nice room, rent fees are climbing the inflation ladder faster than I can respond to any room-for-rent ad. Even watching a movie puts me off. I would rather spend a whole evening going on YouTube.

I don’t have a lot, but I have enough. I think I am good at managing my finances. I am a financial fundamentalist. Am I afraid to get ripped off by the bank? Yes. But more importantly, I am sticking to the traditional way of saving simply because I save more that way. The only time I’ve ever swiped a card in my life was when I had to get something from my friend’s hotel room years ago, and that was because keys were already outdated then.

The Benefits of Being an OFW

One thing I realized about being an overseas Filipino worker is that I now have involvement in my family’s finances. I don’t meddle with how my mother spends her own money; after all, it is her own, and she has worked hard for it, spending time at work and on her business to make sure that she and my sister can live a comfortable life. However, I have committed to paying for my sister’s annual tuition, and that gives me a little more say in the family in terms of income. I now have a voice when it comes to discussing a big purchase or contemplating an investment. I can tell my mother what I think, but she still has the last say and she will do what she thinks is best, but at least she now listens to me. That’s a far cry from absolutely zero involvement.

My involvement in financial matters allows me to permeate deeper into my mother’s thoughts. I can ask about things that may not be money-related, but are on the same level of importance as our family income. Take her health. If I could ask about how much she spent on something, why on earth can I not ask her about what the doctor said during her check up? Or I could start by asking how much she has been spending on her meds, and then we can have a proper conversation about so many other things.

I think one reason she is comfortable sharing her thoughts with me is --- aside from the fact that I actually have a serious job as opposed to my hazy days in Manila when I spent most of my time smoking like a chimney and frequenting karaoke bars --- I am far away, too far that I can only listen and empathize with her without having to look at the sorry expression on my face. The last thing she wants from me and her loved ones is pity. She’s also been a fighter, a person who has always decided for herself and influenced me and my sister to do the same.

I also find that with all the talks we have all throughout the year will make me feel so much more comfortable when I finally see her. Now I know her better. I know what ticks her and what impresses her. And so days out with her and my sister are much more pleasant, and conversations have more meaning and depth. And I don’t think I could have strengthened our relationship had I not flown to another part of the world. That’s just how I see it.

I’m looking forward to December, because when I see her I’m sure we’ll have a better rapport and a fabulous Christmas. No, we can’t share a joint, but at least we can talk about money now.

Winner

I voted for myself on election day.

I had a ballot for every good deed.

I had a signature for every happy thought.

I had a thumb print for every hope sparked.

I won by a landslide, crushing my opponents.

Still I kissed them on the cheek and shook their hands.

I remember the campaign.

It was a struggle against bad feeling.

It was a battle between myself and external elements that I couldn’t control.

But my party was strong and my convictions were genuine.

I hope to get re elected and never lose power.

I will never ever declare martial law.

If I did, I would be fooling myself, shooing the bad away without giving myself a chance to turn things around and prove my true power.

I campaigned against all odds.

Frowns, criticism, coldness, deceit.

More than anything, it was a fight between my old self and the person I wanted to become.

And now I am almost halfway through completing 100 days in the presidential palace.

And so far, opinion polls are showing that I am succeeding.

It was long fight, and this is the reason I am cherishing my hard-earned victory.

There will be all kinds of distraction and tribulation and even pain.

But I will continue to be the happy president I had always wanted to be.

Love Today

It's a weird friendship that I can only divulge to people I truly trust.
I had no doubt we were going to hit it off and become the kind of friends we knew we could be.
I guess the absence of a person gives other people the freedom that they need to nurture healthy relationships.
This friendship was long overdue. While the longevity of such a perfect set up is not guaranteed, I am glad I experienced it at its peak, at the time when I wanted to experience it.
It was a platonic friendship that rooted from intelligence and jadedness and humor and the understanding of the human mind.
He was a safe haven, a dirty bastard who respects me and only me.
I am queen and I am making tea for him.
We are the friends that never were, and that should be enough reason to thank fate.
Maybe you can't be friends with your ex, but you certainly can have decent sane relationships with his friends.

Drunken nights
Emergency flights
Winter fireworks
Oh my God
Those were the days
I thoroughly enjoyed them
But time has decided
I could only bow down
So I shed my skin in winter
Serious change on the way
Summer's mood, we don't know
Oh how we change our styles
And shift gears for a while
To ride along with the times
That have been less than kind
But we're more than that
And we're more than what
People have said we were
And we are out to prove it
With a bottle and a stick
Without lies or tricks
We're more than that

Yes We Can - Barack Obama Music Video

Warm

I don't know how cold it is

Probably 10, 12 degrees

But I know how warm I can make myself

What a relief

Tempting

So many temptations

I never fail to heed them

Cigarettes and candy

Boys who act like men

They like that I like them

They feel good the first minute

But they run out of surprises

And expect me to deal with it

Oh I like my teeth rotten

And my sugar levels soaring

My lungs are filled with bad air

Makes my life less boring

I enjoy being run over

By cars and trucks and hearts

Sad endings are a shame

But another story starts

And I'm sober to this day

I walk straight and tall

I might keep everything

Or decide to throw it all

Depends on how I feel

Not on what you think

Well, they all make me

Want to have a drink

Cheers

Enchanted Kingdom

That far. Yes, that far.

And there's no turning back.

Forward, always forward.

That's the only direction I want to go.

That far. So far I can't even see where I'm heading, but as long as I keep on going forward, my destination will not fail me.

It's going to be a place so wonderful I won't even miss Enchanted Kingdom.

:D

NOT BAD

Winter is not so bad.

I like walking on the streets at 13 degrees.

I tend to hug myself tighter.

And that can't be bad.

HAPPY NOW?

Yes I'm happy now. Seriously. I don't even want to think that some people are feeling sad for me ...because I myself am not. I am happy that I am alone and able to spend time on my own, to do things with friends when I feel like it, and have a chat with my family once in a while. I enjoy being at work and I am working harder than ever simply because I love what I do. I have enough money to spend and save, and I have friends who are smart enough to know that this is what I want at the moment. I realized that I've never run out of choices. Always, there's someone or something better to deal with or do. Well, I was young then and I sort of made some choices out of sheer hedonism. Now, I vow to pick the right choices, and in the long run be happier than ever. Many people have been noticing the glow in me, and I appreciate that. Some people say I am bouncier. Well okay being more voluptuous won't hurt. Some people say I look happy, period. Others don't say a word. They just hang out with me. I guess because it's fun to do that. And no matter what I hear from others, rain or shine, under any circumstances, I think smiling and keeping the faith would be the best choice. It's easy to do, plus it applies to all situations.

Tito Boy

My Tito Boy passed away last Saturday. He will be remembered for his thoughtfulness and sweetness. He used to swear at us for being late, but in less than a minute he would tell a joke and everyone would laugh. In a way he lived his life freely, eating pork and not minding his ailments. However I saw through him when I had the chance to sit down with him and talk about my gameplan.

I recall him telling me to go ahead with my Dubai plain two years ago, that fear was not an option and youth is an advantage anywhere in the world. Of course he was right, having lived in Hawaii for three decades and braving the land that was not his home. He will always be an inspiration to me. In memory of him, I will work harder and do my best in everything here. I will make him proud no matter what.

Great People

Those people who believe that they are capable of changing are meant to strive to become better versions of themselves. They don't have to put "world peace" on their list; instead they start with small things that have tremendous impact on how they perceive their new selves. It can be in the form of ceasing or starting to do something. Some vow to quit smoking, casual sex or eating chocolates. Others prefer to be more affirmative and take on good habits like praying more often, greeting people at work or learning a new skill. The bottom line is, they are confident that they can change for the better. Otherwise they wouldn't be setting goals for themselves. They understand that it is imperative to tweak the way they live to be happier. The smarter ones know they cannot transform overnight, and so they take baby steps, making sure that each one is achievable and would lead to the next one. And that's how they eventually become great. While what they are doing is truly admirable, it is not enough for us to become spectators. Great people who lived before us are still remembered because they continue to inspire the ones who are still on this earth. That's us. In my opinion, the only way to live is to become the best you can be, and there is no excuse for not trying. So here's to a better you and an even better me. Cheers!

CLEANING OUT MY CLOSET

Yes, along with Eminem, I'm cleaning out my closet.

I'm throwing away all the bad stuff: ATM receipts, unwashed forks, scratch paper, old cards, even my Altec Lansing earphones that won't perform.

I am throwing away everything which I think is ugly and useless. And I will keep all the things beautiful and dear to me. Things that I can use in my life in one way or another. Things that can make me smile, remind me of something nice, or give me an idea of how good it is to live life.

I am getting rid of bad vibes. I will take phone calls, answer emails, smile at new faces and refrain from holding grudges against anyone. Anyone at all.

2008 is different. Because I am older and inevtably wiser, thank you very much.