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.