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.