I want to be here.

I hate myself for thinking too much.
These days I find myself wondering why I love this industry so much.
I could just be selling cars or weaving abaca baskets.
Why do I love the filth, the politics, the crazy shit I have to go through in order to put up every bulletin?

I tried other jobs. I was a call center agent, I was a receptionist, I was a small-time entrepreneur. They left me dry and desperate and incredibly lonely, like I was on my way to hell and the only thing that could save me was a job in TV.
Even an active dating life wouldn't make me smile. Not quite.

Now I have a job that doesn't pay much, with no boundaries in responsibilities, and doesn't pay me for extra hours, but I am willing to stay just to see if the ship will sink, continue to float aimlessly, or finally get where the captain wants to go.

And the only time I will stop is when I've had enough of it. Or when they say "Zeena, you suck at your job, go tend sheep or wipe old people's asses." I have so many things to discover, so many things to learn, so many things to do before I can finally say that I am ready to quit this shit.

I want this.
I want this.
I want this.

Mother, who am I?

Hello God!

Before going out on a date this evening I had a brief online chat with one of my aunts. It was a short but very meaningful conversation, something that lingered on my mind even after we logged off. She advised me to keep on praying and not do anything she won't be proud of. So I was putting my gypsy outfit and applying the usual shades of make up on my big fat face until my date came to pick me up, and I was still thinking about what she said. It was so simple, just commonsense really, but nevertheless it was the kind of thing I forget the most, so it was refreshing to have someone remind me about it, someone I truly trust.

I carried on with my date, and over three courses of fondue, we got around to talking about religion. On dates, I had always hidden the fact that my family, although never always together, prays together. I didn't quite like being thought of as a church girl or a Jesus fanatic. However this evening it was different. He said he was an agnostic, and under normal circumstances the talk about religion would just end with me nodding my head submissively. But I actually went the other direction, and I am so happy to have finally said it --- I love my God. I love Him for the world. I don't know if his name is really Jesus, or if he has a beard, or if he can really save my life, but I know that he listens to me, because when I turn to Him, I always end up feeling better and empowered. He is my God and no one else's. He's the kind of friend who doesn't really answer me but I can feel his support in so many levels. And towards the end of my little speech, as the chocolate fondue hardened, my date flashed a bright smile of genuine acceptance.

We went for a walk and talked about other things, like rock pools and water beds and the Moulin Rouge and Bawadi and desalination plants. We didn't go back to religion, but my faith stayed where it was. I may not be the kind of person who shows how I worship my God, but I truly do and I want to explore our relationship rather than start one with a horny earthling. I'm not talking about my date, just men in general.

So anyway he took me home, and we thanked each other the nice dinner and conversation, we said good night, and I said hello to my God. I'm back on track and I'll try not to lose my way again.

I’ve told myself time and again that I will not waste my life worrying. But every single day I find myself doing just that. Marvelous.

Worrying is a sign that I have so much fear in me, and that’s exactly what I want to get rid of. I used to be so fearless, so carefree, so hell-to-the-world-I’ll set-you-on-fire. Now I seem to have lost my luster. Is it Dubai? Is it adulthood? Is it the enormous amount of pressure on me at work? I have no idea.

And so I go and debate my singleness and my fatness and my loneliness. And I know that it’s not right to feel this way, I have been extremely lucky and I am in no position to complain. I’m not complaining. Just keeping it all in. That’s even worse.

What I want is to stop worrying. Stop worrying about my housemates and the laundry. Stop worrying if I am wearing such a sucky outfit. Stop worrying about the internet connection. Stop worrying about romantic connection… anyway in the end I always find out there is none.

What I also want is to make the most of my life. Not anyone else’s. I also find myself letting go, giving up things just to resolve conflicts. Well, I realized I am going to be indifferent, to the point of retardation. Lucky spazmos, they don’t need to be understood. Because they’re literally crazy, and I am just a nut. People ignore them and still love them without expecting anything of them. People can say I am just a nut, not completely crazy, and I have no excuse to treat life like a candy bar.

I can't wait.
Push the fast forward button so I can go home.
The feeling of longing is intoxicating.
I need to not be in my right mind so I can endure waiting a few more months.
Or else I would attempt to fly all the way to Manila.
Dubai has given me so much and I don't deny that.
But Manila is heaven. It is home.
Plus it's more fun to get drunk there.
I can crawl on the streets and not be arrested.
I can puke in the cab without fear of being called a slag. Which I am not.
When I go home I will drink and be merry.
And be very very drunk.

nothing else to do

Starting Time: 12:!3

Name: Zeena Celine Zalamea

Sisters: Zoe!!!

Brothers: 0

Shoe size: 6

Height: 5'2"

what are u wearing?: pajamas with holes and an old shirt with more holes

Favorite Number: 21

Favorite Drink: bullfrog


Favorite Month: December

Favorite Breakfast: cereal

***Have You Ever

Broken a bone: never

Been in a police car: never

Been on a boat: yeah going to Galera and Boracay...

Came close to dying: once, twice

Swam in the ocean: only near the shore

Fallen asleep in school: yes in college

Broken someone's heart: i am not sure

Cried when someone died: yes

Fell off your chair: yes a couple of times

Sat by the phone..waiting for someone to
call? Not literally but yes, I waited for lots of phone calls that didn't come.

Saved emails?: all the time

Been cheated on: I think so. Don't guys do that all the time?

cheated on the test: a couple of times

***What is-

Your room like?:a nice quiet abode shared with Sherry and Ethel

Whats right beside you?: wall

What is the last thing you ate?:
a bagel

---Ever Had---

Chicken pox: yep.

Sore throat: yes

Stitches: yes, I was big fan when I was a kid

Broken nose: thank God never
---Do You---

Like picnics?
- Love them, especially with nice friends.

Like School?
- I love it more now that it's over. I miss it.

---Questions---

Who was the last person you danced
with: Sherry I think at Hibiki

Who makes you smile?
- nice emails from family and friends

---Who---

Did you last yell at: Mahmoud for being so late.

Do you like yourself?
- Yes most of the time

---Final Questions---

What are you listening to right now?
- my self typing away

Hated someone in your family?
- My dad

What car do you wish to have?
- Oddly, I don't wish to have one at the moment.

Good singer:
-fabulous. Not necessarily great, but fabulous.

Diamond or pearl?
- diamonds

Indoors or outdoors:
- indoors .. it's freaking hot outside!

---Today did you---

1. Talk to someone you like?
- yes

2. Who?
- some guy

3. Get sick?
- yes, I didn't go to work.

4. Sing:
- I do. Every single Thursday.

5. Talked to an ex:
- not recently


---Last person who---

7. Was in your bed besides you:
Jen gueco

8. Talked to on the phone?
- Ria

10. Went to the movies with?
- Sherry, Ethel and friends. Harry Pottah!

went to the mall with:
- i went by myself today

12.Been to Europe:
- never

13. Been to Asia:
- yes I actually live there

14.been to Russia:
- never

15.Been to the Bahamas:
- no no no no

18. Been to Mexico:
- will you take me?

19. Been to Canada:
- no but I want to

20. Been to U.S.:
-yes to see my aunts!!!

---Random---

21. Do you like someone at
the moment:
- well no one in particular

22. What books are you reading
right now?
- something by monica ali... i think it's called Alentejo Blue

23. Best feeling in the world:
- love. what else?

24. Future kids names:
-I haven't really thought about that.

25. Do you sleep with a
stuffed animal:
- no. I do sleep like an animal though.

Time Finished: 12:26

Radiohead - Nobody Does It Better

It’s been crazy at work.
I won’t have a weekend, and it’s my choice.
Choosing to work over the weekend means choosing not do to other stupid things.
It means choosing to behave and stay in a place where I am safe, and I will go home and sleep soundly, without horrible nightmares.
It means I can wake up the next morning with only bad breath to worry about.
It means not being afraid of getting out of my comfort zone, because in the long run that comfort zone will eat me alive and I will end up feeling lonely.
I can assure you that.

i love change. and i don't mean nickels and dimes.

I am finally in my new place.
Comfortable, and Sherry and Ethel were extremely helpful.
I can be picked up late and still make it to work on time.

This isn't so hard.
Change isn't so bad.

True, I am just adjusting.
Adjusting as in always sleeping later and never minding what I wear to work and getting used to just being in my little corner and vomitting at work.
Change is stressful.
Better than not moving at all.
Better than just keeping still, trying to fight the forces that will make me grow.

So Sheryl Crow wasn't just hoping to make money by writing that song that goes "A change would do you good..." She really meant it. I think.

Sometimes it hurts to think that people have to change so much in this lifetime.
It hurts because it means saying lots of goodbyes and always adjusting to new things and always trying to fit in and stop doing things they love.

But as long as I have myself, still breathing and in one piece, change won't harm me.
Not in the long run. If anything, it will strengthen me.
I do think that with so many changes in my life, when I'm 30 I'll be able to fly.
Or drive a truck.

Whichever comes handy first.

Aids Awareness French Campaign (Straight Version)

Aids Awareness French Campaign (Gay Version)

friends' sites

I got an invite from Danica. She wanted to add me to her friends list on a site called StumbleUpon. How many invites do I get to join these silly sites. Hi5, Zorpia, Facebook, LinkedIn, freaking Eskwela. I used to be a big fan of these sites that were suppsed to get you more friends and make you popular, but guess what, I've stopped joining. Friendster is all I need. Friendster got me intro trouble, but also saved my life, and made me discover stuff that I wouldn't find out if not for the excellent friends networking service it's got. It also cracks me up, when I browse and see how my old friends have become. Anyway my point is, I don't need new friends, or new friends' sites. I am ok with Friendster's services. And no freaking friends site ever had true friends for members. They're usually fly-by-night predators who think they're hot stuff. Even on Friendster, they have demons. But that site's my turf and I can handle them. And even if I couldn't, I have enough real-life friends to turn to. Thank you.

Ok that didn't make sense at all.

awesome

Here's a list of aaaawesome things I've done (or been doing) in Dubai so far.
You can call them rubbish. I call them accomplishments.
A real boost to my sore ego.

1. A monologue at the Philippine Independence Day

2. Varicose veins treatment

3. Weekend karaoke, VIP treatment

4. Dated a guy who said goodbye in a text message (that's awesome, everyone has to experience that at least once in their lives. it makes you stronger. literally. i can now lift a 5 galon water bottle and slam it into the water dispenser without injuring myself.)

5. Voice a police report on a news program

6. Poop in a mall

7. Dance with a stripper

8. Buy a lunch bag. I've never bought a lunch bag in Manila.

9. Ignore PMS. No one's gonna save me from it, so might as well act as if it's not there. And voila, I feel 100 times more miserable.

10. Moving out. I need to save money. It may well be the hardest thing I've had to do here, because change stresses me out and makes my hair fall off. And this is some major change.

Ok hope to add a few more thing to this list in the near future.

Foward, always forward.

not guilty

Very very tiring weekend. June is killing me. Good thing it's ending on the weekend, then I can face July with vigor and ... um, freshness.

I am going to miss this house and I can't stress that enough. Last night my friends were here for Eve's shower party. There were naughty games, and a cute male stripper. I tried to be as quiet as possible, closed the window curtains and turned off the lights and kept everyone under control. I thought Colin's friend Mal was asleep, so I thought closing the door to the hall upstairs was enough to give him peace and quiet. But no, it turned out he was out and was just coming home when we were at the peak of partying, and he just had to walk in on me dancing with the stripper. Why was it me, at that particular minute? I didn't want him to think I was tarting around because I really wasn't, that's just what girls do at bridal showers, and this was my FIRST time to attend one. Anyway it was kind of him to congratulate Eve and go straight to bed.

I woke up this morning at 10 and went straight to watch episodes of The Office. Coincidentally there was an episode with a bridal shower and a stag party, and I guess it doesn't help that Mal walked in on me watching a female stripper dance for Steve Carell. The worse thing was, I acted guilty even when I wasn't. But he is a nice guy, like all of Colin's friends and I'm sure he won't take it against me. Hey, I showed him where the detergent was and I gave him advice on throwing out the garbage.

Oh hell. Can June just end.

three shits

Last Tuesday I had dinner with Mike, my ex-flatmate. It was our first time to really catch up and I had a nice time with him. We talked about his love life, and I asked him about his plans to salvage it (or kill it), and my love life, which sounded silly after hearing about his heart break. Mine sounded like a scene from Flames. His sounded like a smashing Hollywood hit that can move people to tears. It may even involve gunfire and a big scandal at an airport or something.

We got tired of talking about THAT aspect of our lives and so we moved on to religion, which wasn’t so bad. I told him my mother sent me a Bible, and I started reading it and it slowly made my nightmares go away. But that didn’t stop me from creating my own nightmares, and they’re worse because I have to deal with them every waking minute of my life. I hope they stop though. I have to stop first, I guess.



I am also very apprehensive about moving out, and nobody knows this but it’s been bothering me and it’s been on my mind for days and nights. I will miss my room and I will miss everyone who ever lived in that villa (from Colin onwards of course). And I will miss Sheikh Zayed and Dyafah and Crowne Plaza .

Also I think I have a lot of issues that I cannot share with anyone else, and I feel so heavy keeping them inside me. I am ashamed, discontented, out of control and a lot more. IT doesn’t help that I haven’t been talking to my mother for a very long time. More than a week now I think. More than two. Hearing her voice always gives me comfort and strength, two things I need more than anything else. Not even a date with a nice guy would do. No no no.

The good news is, I am very optimistic about my future. God always manages to pull me out of a slump by sending someone to tell me some fabulous news. So it’s always like shit shit shit, yahoo! That’s the formula, to put it in very basic terms. Things get screwed up three times, and just when I am expecting a fourth fuck-up, things fall into place. This morning I had my yahoo already, and with a little help from friends and some episodes of The Office, I’m so ready for the three shits.


Three shits anyone!

awful

I feel terrible.
I figured it’s because today I have made a very hard decision and it breaks my heart.
I have decided to move out. I love the villa, its location and Colin and Carolynn and other people who lived in it, and I have gotten along with them and they’ve been my family.
But if I stayed there I wouldn’t have any savings. I suppose I can still visit them all.
I suppose I can still drop by and say hi and eat their leftovers.
I will miss my usual place in the internet café (dining table), and the way I never move for hours just going on the internet.
I will miss having wine with them and having one of those special dinners.
I will miss the bath tub and my time alone.

I know that it will be great moving in with Sherry and Ethel, because they’re friends and it’s much cheaper and the place is just five minutes away from work.
And of course I love them and I am thankful that they are making sense of the things I do, because at this point in my life I don’t have time to stop and think about anything.
Work just sucks up all my energy.

Anyway I am not very good with goodbyes.
Not when Greg said goodbye to the business team, or when I said goodbye to my former colleagues in Manila , or when people said goodbye to me in the past.
I hate hate hate goodbyes, but they are always there and I cannot avoid them.

God has a funny way of toughing me up.
He gets a handful of people to say goodbye to me at the same time, and forces me to say goodbye to people important to me, so I can get used to saying that awful word.

Well I don’t think I will, but thanks for trying, God.

random day off, random thoughts

I took a random day off today.
Well, not too random.
I am sick. I have a bad cold and it will get worse later.
And unlike all the other weekdays of my life, I don't plan to be productive today.
No way.
Let's see.... so far I've made an egg sandwich, looked at some family pictures on the internet, and convinced myself that I shouldn't feel guilty for not giving my father money. I reminded myself that I didn't have any as well.
And then I got to day dreaming.
I love day dreaming. Not about things like dishes rinsing themselves, or JLo lending me her body for a couple of until I could fix my own.
Things like Mama, Zoe and me traveling together. To anywhere.
Eating ice cream on a hot summer day somewhere in Asia.
Dunno. My what used to be brilliant imagination diminished into a speck of dirt on the face of Dubai. I don't know. There's something about this place that makes me feel I'm not good enough, until some kind soul tells me otherwise.
Thank God there are kind souls here. Maybe to replace bas friends in the past.

Ali G - Science and Technology

Ali G doing a worm dance at a real fashion show lol

another one about racism

I have been watching videos about racism in Eurpoe and the US.
I can't seem to understand what some people's reasons are for being racists, for hating a fellow human being just because of the color of his skin.

Not only hating, but harming them. Physically, mentally, emotionally.
I had a chat with a friend a few weeks ago and he told me that a few years ago, he had a falling out with an American friend who ruined his reputation and his life essentially. As a consequence his confidence diminished and he now stutters when he talks to native English speakers. Hmmm. I suppose the similar thing happened to me. I was so full of hope when I first went here, only to find out that racism was still alive, and it looks like it's here to stay.

In restaurants, in parking lots, in malls. I just recently attended a formal gathering where I was the only brown person in the room. I felt a bit uneasy and went home immediately.

I am pretty sure that when I finally learned how the world goes round here in Dubai, I lost something that I can only regain when the situation changes. Thank God I have not lost hope yet, and that's a huge thing. It means I can still look forward to better days. I can still find reason to wake up and allow myself to dream.

I feel like all the confidence I gained where I come from is lost and will never be found. I just need to start again and see what happens.

Either way, failure is not an option. Fuck fear. Forward, always forward.

European Racism

Quote of the Day

"To change one's life: 1. Start immediately. 2. Do it flamboyantly. 3. No exceptions."

– William James

Family Guy Peter Griffins own Sitcom -

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Family guy - ass

HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!!!

good things

Bad day today. The universe decided to go against me.
But as aI wallowed in self-pity I desperately tried to find something good about today. There must be at least one thing that kept me from dropping dead.

Turned out, there was more than one. I decided that it's all up to me to turn even the most trivial thing into a heart-warming experience.

Well, there's my producer telling me I did a good job.

And then there's the happy ride home with mother Anton. Never mind that he dropped me off in the middle of two green lights and I struggled to run for my life.
Well, I survived and that's a good thing.

And then there was the nice chat with Colin. It's been a long time since I've taken the time to ask him how he's doing, so this is quite a special evening.

And then there's this blog entry. I accidentally deleted everything I had written, but realized that Blogger has an autosave feature. That's another good thing.

And the greatest thing of all. . . I'm still alive after this fucking hell of a day. Tomorrow will be much better.

One whole week of non stop working. Working to forget, working to remember, working to block off everything that I should be thinking about. So far I've been having fun with my friends and meeting new people.

There's one very interesting person I recently met and had dinner with. He dresses like someone from the Vaudeville era. He opens doors for me and stands up when I stand up. I'm super all right with chivalry but the white long-sleeved shirt and grey vest --- that was over the top and it made me embarrassed. Or maybe I deserved that kind of treatment and I should have been proud of it. Oh well. Either way I didn't quite like his Charlie Chaplin outfit on an easy Friday evening, especially when he had the potential to look like Hugh Grant. At least on one of Hugh's bad days.

Zoe is Now A Lady

Can't get over that fact, but I'm happy that she's grown to be a pretty young lady. I hope she stays that way.

jen's bday - May 29

my happy mama

Quote of the Day

"Difficult times have helped me to understand better than before how infinitely rich and beautiful life is in every way, and that so many things that one goes worrying about are of no importance whatsoever."
– Isak Denison

this man

He asked me to dance with him and I agreed. Jumped out of my seat giddily and boogied with him. I danced and grabbed his dorky ruffles, and he caught me with his cane every time I was about to tumble down. I must have stepped on his feet at least four times before finally trying to retreat back to my chair, where I belonged and should be gulping down bullfrogs for the rest of the night. But then he asked me to dance again, for the second, third, fourth time. In all my drunken glory I yelled “I’m such a lousy dancer!” against the music and the people’s cheers. And then as he walked me back to my chair, he kissed my hand and said, “It’s always the man’s fault for not leading the woman.” If that’s how he thinks, I think I might like him. A lot.

But there are flaws to this man, I bet. There better be a catch. Maybe he has eight toes, and that explains why he has superb balance when dancing. Or maybe he's epileptic. Or has irritable bowel syndrome. Or worst of all, maybe he's just like all the "normal" guys I have met in Dubai. Yikes. That's scary.

changes

It's been days since I've started to realize that there will be major changes at work, at home at with my family back in Manila. And it's not easy for me to take this in stride. I usually ignore changes until they eat me alive, but at this point in my life I think I have to face them. And adjust to them. As gracefully as I can. Zeena is my name, seamless transition is my aim. Yuck where did that come from.

I've always beleived that change will do me good, as Sheryl Crow sang. And there are no buts or ifs. If I don't embrace change, it will haunt me, and I can tell it won't be pretty.

The Cardigans - Carnival

Louis Theroux

I have watched a couple of Louis Theroux's Weird Weekend episodes and I must say he could even beat Ali G or Stewie Griffin in being my most favorite YouTube stuff.

I've see the Neo Nazi episode, and now I'm watching the Thai Brides episode.

Try searching it on YouTube.

the future

I am not at all afraid of the future. If anything I think the future is afraid of me, because I am not doing anything about it.

OK I’ve made a few contributions to my family, and I’ve invested money to acquire new skills and feel a little better about my appearance, and I’ve also done some of the things I promised myself I’d do, but in a lot of ways, going home every day from work leaves me unfulfilled, to the point that I cannot sleep at night without thinking of ways to improve my life.

Every day, God gives me reasons to smile, like a chat with Kat or Cookie or Terri, or a nice email from my Pinks, or a call from Mama and Zoe, or some funny shit on www.youtube.com, a fun night as Ria's tagalong to some events in town (hopefully with good food and free stuff), a quiet dinner with Colin (when he is home) while he tries to figure out the TV, or a spontaneous night out wit Sherry, Jen and the gang. But I have rarely made myself happy, as in me alone, by myself. It’s one thing to look retarded window shopping alone in the mall, and it’s another thing to take drastic measures to change my life. How the hell do I make it better?

I frequently check www.ivillage.com, www.oprah.com, and even shamefully tried to look up Dr. Phil on the internet, and in fairness to these sites, their contents made sense, and I feel so confident and motivated the first five minutes after reading them, but then I look around me and feel like slapping myself. It’s just not that easy to walk down an aisle when people are not looking at you, when they haven’t decided that you deserve a red carpet. In short, when they do not recognize you and your capabilities.

But then again, it’s probably not an aisle I have to walk on. A long aisle ends in a wall, a cold wall, and you have nowhere to go but inside a big room full of people, and it ends there. I probably need to climb a mountain. I start at the foot, climb up, climb up, run out of breath and get bruised and cut and sweat profusely and get dehydrated. And I need to make sure that I reach the top of the mountain, because otherwise the climb would be completely useless. I can’t wait to be up there. There are no walls, just freedom, just fresh air, no one to approve or disapprove of me, nothing to worry about. Just everything I am not right now, and I can’t wait to be up there. I can’t wait to be up there.

So yeah I want to be happy and I am ready to climb that mountain, if someone can just tell me where it is.

Family Guy

I remember the times we played I've Never... the Pinks and the rest of the CDG... those were such fun times. Miss them to death!

My Gigs In Tagaytay

Cookie's rest house in Tagaytay.
Jagermeister.
Jokes.
Karaoke.
Jacuzzi.
And I wasn't there :(
But these pictures are hilarious!
(Sorry it's a private joke.)
Thanks guys!

10 Things

I should never ever do again on a Thursday night:

1. Go to a karaoke without enthusiasm. I sang off key, yodeled foolishly and shamed everyone around me, and I didn't even enjoy my drink.

2. Go to a Filipino bar at 1 AM. At this time there are no seats available already, a real hassle when you've got varicose veins (like me).

3. Bring more money than I need. Because I will live like a pauper for the next two weeks after spending everything in one night.

4. Go out, when all I really want to do is rest.

5. Wear a hideous outfit. Because after a week of hard work, I deserve to wear something really fabulous. I have no idea why I wore that shit of a top last night.

6. Drink rubbish until I get a little tipsy, tipsy enough to dance with a stranger with a bad stubble.

7. Go home late from work when it's not necessary. I ended up going out at 11 PM already, and when all the bars close at 3 AM we all tend to force ourselves to have fun already, without the slow laid-back warm-up drinking... so we don't waste time.

8. Wear eyeliner. I looked dirty last night and I hated my face.

9. Separate from friends. Go with the majority. It COULD be lonely going to a karaoke bar alone, like what I did last week, while everyone was at a different place dancing the night away.

10. Hope I'll see someone I miss! That pretty much messes up the start of a great weekend.

mean

I feel so fat and I’m taking out my anger on everyone and I know it’s not nice and I know it’s mean of me and I know my actions will have repercussions in the future and I’m sure everyone knows that I’m not usually like this and I don’t intend to be a little devil but I just can’t help being a bitch. I personally don’t like bitches and all my life I’ve been trying to be nice to everyone but sometimes the bitch in me escapes and does bloody horrible things and at that point I can’t help it anymore. I am upset, I feel fat, I feel lonely and alone and unfortunate and I want something exciting in my life and I’m upset that it hasn’t come yet.

There.

pests

Last weekend was different.
Not in a good way, but at least it was different.
I grossed myself out last weekend, thank God I survived it.

Thursday night was supposed to be Xernes’ night and he wanted to go to Jules. We compromised and agreed to go straight to Hibiki (karaoke – what else?) for the rest of the evening. But it was so fun at Jules that Xernes wouldn’t leave, and even if Sherry and the gang were coming to Jules from the Boyz2Men concert, I decided to leave. I went straight to Hibiki like a drunken divorced man not wasting any second to sing his heart out again with his equally pathetic buddies. In a matter of minutes I was with a few of the regulars, singing Olivia Newton-John like it could make me happier than dancing to fun showband music at Jules, where the gay vocalist sang Sex Bomb in nothing but a sarong and an undershirt on. Oh, and combat boots.

I spent my Friday finishing an article for an event I covered. The event was fun, but I wasn’t, so I had a hard time writing about it. I spent the day in the mall, in a coffee shop, and it took me five hours to write a simple show review. Jen and Arvin came and Eve followed and Xernes came and we all headed to Chikka Grill. I was very sleepy and a little depressed but went anyway.

Why was I depressed? Maybe because nothing new was happening to me, to my life, to my appearance, and I felt like an old hag. After an afternoon of serious pest control and attempted carpentry (our cabinet door fell off), I dashed out the door. Coffee bean, Chikka Grill.

Saturday was not as depressing, but I wasn’t exactly a happy bunny. I spent the day with people who never fail to tear me apart and make me feel like trash. They can’t help it, because I can’t help it. I can’t say no and that’s always been my problem. I can’t say no because very few people want to be with me, and saying no to any one of them would mean missing out on something, like basic human interaction, or a date of some sort. I went straight to the mall to have coffee and go shopping with Sherry, and we talked about the cause of my depression and she told me to just stop moving and focus. I think I should, but stopping would mean facing the music, and I am not sure if I’m ready for that.

Aside from my depression, another thing I’m worried about is bed bugs. Or are they dust mites? All I know is that they have somehow reached me and decided never to part from me. They’re annoying, they’re gross and they’re ugly and they make me feel like trash, like the two human pests I know. But these human pests are even harder to get rid of because I’d rather be them than be alone.

that girl

So meet me at the corner
I will not be late
I want to see your face again
I want to feel this way again

So let the words slip out
You know you want to say them
You want to feel this way again
You want a nameless face again

So never let the day pass
Without giving me a call
I know there's such a slim chance
But won't you take this one chance

I'm patient and I'm fine
I'm restless and I want you
I want to be that girl again
Come let me be that girl again

I am restless.
Officially.
Thursday night after a LONG day at work (arrived at 9 AM), I went home, showered and went straight to Chikka Grill for some serious dancing.
Friday, I went to the Arabian Travel Market and tagged along with Eve.
And then Sherry and I went straight to Hibiki where Galo followed.
Woke up Saturday morning and did my groceries. Went home, unloaded them, took a quick quick shower and went straight to the BOD meeting.
BOD meeting finished, Ria and I went around Karama for a few minutes.
She dropped me off at my place, and in less than one minute I washed up and went out again until 9 PM.
By 930 PM I was home, and in an hour or two, as planned, I found myself having mojitos with Jen, Sherry and Ria at Zinc. I said yes to it already and it would be a shame to pass up on free drinks.
I went home itching, with large red bumps on my face. I was scratching my whooole body and I had to raid Colin’s shelves. I found a tube of hydrocortisone cream and it seemed to work because now I am at work and I look less stupid and ugly than this morning.
I am so miserable. I promise to get some sleep later!

1. What is your idea of perfect
Happiness?
>> being ok with how i look, feel and live

2. What is your greatest fear?
>> letting myself down

3. Which celebrity you most identify
with?
>> drew barrymore

4. Which living person do you most
admire?
>> Mama Becky


6. What is your favorite journey?
>> the way back into love... hehe


7. What do you dislike most about your
appearance?
>> my thighs

8. Which living person do you most
despise?
>> i don't despise anyone

9. What is your greatest regret?
>> none.

10. When and where were you happiest?
>> lots of times, lots of places

11. If you could change one thing
about yourself, what would it be?
>> lessen the drama moments

12. What do you consider your greatest
achievement?
>> toughing it out here

13. If you were to die and come back
as a person or thing, what do you
think it would be?
>>i want to be my journal

14. What is your most treasured
possesion?
>> my journal

15. What do you most value in your
friends?
>> presence

16. What is it that you most dislike?
>> weakness

17. What is your motto?
>> forward, always forward

I am extremely annoyed at the moment.
At myself, for being such a wimp.
At you, for being so drunk.
What a nice pair.
I could end up a battered wife.

budgeting during my period

I am sorting out my finances and it seems to me that there is really nothing to sort out, because my salary disappears on the first week of the month. I am confident though that I am spending it wisely. I am spending enough to keep me healthy with just enough to eat everyday, keep me clean with a few toiletries, keep me happy with some extra cash for drinks and dates, and keep me sane with small investments like short courses.

When I finally get out of this financial slump, I'd like to save and save and save until I am sure that I have enough to spend in December, when I go home and spend time with my family and friends. It's so hard being an adult. Everything I do seems to have a monetary equivalent, even just making sure that I don't lose my sanity.

Feeling so uninspired lately. I feel unproductive and sluggish. It's THAT time of the month again and I hate it. Absolutely. But it's good to know that my reproductive organs are still there, functioning and happily keeping me bloated, so that if I ever decide to have children, I can.

I am looking for a parttime job so I can have enough money to save even with all my necessary huge expenses. It's going to be a busy and bankrupt month, but I believe that this move is necessary and my efforts will pay off soon. I guess for a couple of months I've been doing the same thing and I just need a change n my life --- a struggle. Everything has been so easy to me, so easy it seems pointless.

BLESSINGS

As the end of the month approaches me with a monster mask on, I desperately try to look for money. Salary day is 48 hours away, and my hands are itching to touch a decent hundred dirham bill.

I’ve had an empty pocket for more than a week now and managed to survive.
Several good fellas fed me and entertained me and kept me company.

Sunday I had dinner with some friends in Bur Dubai and they took care of the bill as usual. Really nice Chinese food. Peking duck, nicely cooked prawns and dumplings, and of course, chardonnay.

Monday I went to a birthday party and ate pork and cake and drank Jack Daniels with gulaman, and Miss Maribel and I christened it and named it gulaman JACK! We als omade friends with the ducks nad the rabbits in Hayder's frontyard. Hi dur, pets of Hayder!

Tuesday I was invited to the launching of a mobile phone. I went with Ria, who happily picked me up in Media City. The wine was ok, the salmon was great, the hotel was perfect. I didn't get a free mobile phone, but I'm not complaining. It was at the Ritz Carlton, it was free, and the speech by the country manager was very short.

Wednesday I met with Mother Galo for coffee in Burjuman. We exchanged heart-warming stories and I felt really good about being able to share part of me with him --- uncensored, shameless, nothing but the raw truth. Plus we couldn’t help but stare at this young guy who looked like Diego Luna in Y Tu Mama Tambien. The sexy thing about him was he was awfully young --- he had a business math book and he and his friends were laughing and checking out body building supplements inside the nearby health store. I'm freaking 24 and I hate it. He must have been 19.

Thursday we had the BOD meeting at Gold Fork and Obet shared his food with me. It was fabulous. Then we went to the new Chikka Grill, and Mother Galo bought me a Breezer and we had fun just dancing. I was wearing my shittiest top that night but didn’t care. Went home with Ria.

Friday was desert safari day. It was a project of UPAA and we succeeded in raising enough funds for the scholarship program --- we reached our target this year. And we had sooo much fun! We went up and down the sand dunes and we went on a short camel ride, and the camel pissed on me, and then I wore a dish dash (Arabic dress for men) and had my picture taken with Sherry, who wore an abaya (Arabic dress for women), and then I had a huge and delectable Arabic meal --- lots of potatoes and corn and chicken and lamb and samosa and hummus. Tea time was great --- the belly dancer, who I could have sworn had a perfect body and great skin, entertained us. Ava, the cute three-year-old was sitting on my lap and later on we found ourselves dancing.
Then Sherry and I just HAD to go to Hibiki to sing a couple of songs. The bar’s mood was very depressing. A few people at a few tables, not much to drink because there was not much to spend. I sang a couple of melodramatic songs and drank only two bullfrogs. (It takes three to really get me on a roll.) At around 2 AM Sherry’s boyfriend Rami and his drunk friend Fadi followed and they insisted (like pointed a gun at us and threatened to blow our brains out) on paying for our drinks. So it was another unexpected treat!

Saturday (yesterday) was equally fun! I met up with Mother Galo, Anthon, Xernes, Ernest and Sherry in Deira City Center and we had a fun time in Noodlehouse, where we talked about gay stuff --- how gay guys fall in love and how they have sex and how they fight fairly in relationships. And of course we all agreed that men are bastards. The straight ones. Then we went window shopping and had tea and I went home at midnight and had a short chat with Craig (and a glass of his wine) before going to bed.

For seven whole days I was literally penniless, and then some people just stepped up and helped me and fed me, as if the hand of God pushed them to take my hand and lead me to wherever food was. Unbelievable what the Filipino community can do. They can feed me and more importantly, keep me company even when I’m broke.

REUNIONS

Curgs went to Batangas for a family reunion last weekend. I felt envious because it’s been ages since I attended a proper family reunion. Actually it’s been ages since I’ve had a proper family, but who needs a father these days anyway, when you and your mom and sister can have fun and live happily. Back to reunions. It would be interesting to see familiar faces, catch up on things and say polite words while going on a Filipino dish binge.

Any kind of reunion is always pleasant and brings me a feeling of fulfillment. Once again I am seeing the people I met in the past and I see that we all have changed significantly, and I think about the things I went through from the time I met them until the reunion. Gives me a sense of maturity. Thinking about it, the people at reunions are just tools for me to look at the past and see where I’ve come from and how far I’ve gone.

And so at my next reunion, with whoever, wherever, I’ll probably feel like a champion. I’ve triumphed over everything that came my way and it’s good find myself still standing after bad break-ups, the worst job in the world, the end of friendship and racism.

keep on cooking

Cooking.
One of my new-found loves.
I NEVER cooked in Manila.
I never got around to doing it.
I always had Ate Joan to cook my meals for me.
And there was always good ole Maggi instant noodles.
One year and two months here in Dubai.
What have I got to show for?
My culinary expertise...as a novice in the kitchen.

If I remember correctly these are all the meals/ desserts I made in Dubai:

> Chicken adobo
> Salpicao (thanks Macy!)
> Kids' spaghetti
> Spaghetti - fresh tomatoes
> Rice (hehe)
> Sheesh Tawok (oven)
> Chicken Biryani (oven)
> Poached pears and whipped cream
> Caramelized banana ang raspberry and vanilla ice cream
> Fruit salad - yes that counts
> Fried Chicken
> Continental Breakfast - eggs, potatoes, hotdogs, etc.

Sheesh. Most of these are really easy but what the hell I was a real idiot in the kitchen when I went here and now I can cook and I will continue cooking and watching Jamie Oliver's shows and Nigella Bites and all those BBC Food programs until I master the art of chucking things in a pot and magically turning them into a delectibile sonuvagun.

Coward

Lately I've been feeling like a coward, in lots of things.
I'm scared of everything. Of taking the plunge, of risking.
I used to be so brave. What happened to me?
I know I was brave because I am here, outside my comfort zone and braving adulthood, a reality I had evaded for so long.
Now I have no choice but to push myself to do something that will make me better in so many levels. Just one small thing. Just one thing.
And I thought I was a champ.

Matter of Taste

This was posted on the UPAA-UAE YahooGroups by MR. Dan Tobias, a senior member.
It was published in 1999.
I liked it. :D

I have now been in this country for over six years, and consider myself in most respects well assimilated. However, there is one key step on the road to full asimilation, which I have yet to take, and that's to eat BALUT.

The day any of you sees me eating balut, please call immigration and ask them to issue me a Filipino passport. Because at that point there will be no turning back. BALUT, for those still blissfully ignorant non-Pinoys out there, is a fertilized duck egg. It is commonly sold with salt in a piece of newspaper, much like English fish and chips, by street vendors usually after dark, presumably so you can't see how gross it is. It's meant to be an aphrodisiac, although I can't imagine anything more likely to dispel sexual desire than crunching on a partially formed baby duck swimming in noxious fluid. The embryo in the egg comes in varying stages of development, but basically it is not considered macho to eat one without fully discernable feathers, beak, and claws. Some say these crunchy bits are the best. Others prefer just to drink th e so-called 'soup', the vile, pungent liquid that surrounds the aforementioned feathery fetus...excuse me; I have to go and throw up now. I'll be back in a minute.

Food dominates the life of the Filipino. People here just love to eat. They eat at least eight times a day. These eight official meals are called, in order: breakfast, snacks, lunch, merienda, merienda ceyna, dinner, bedtime snacks and no-one-saw-me-take-that-cookie-from-the-fridge-so-it-doesn't-count.

The short gaps in between these mealtimes are spent eating Sky Flakes from the open packet that sits on every desktop. You're never far from food in the Philippines . If you doubt this, next time you're driving home from work, try this game. See how long you can drive without seeing food and I don't mean a distant restaurant, or a picture of food. I mean a man on the sidewalk frying fish balls, or a man walking through the traffic selling nuts or candy. I bet it's less than one minute. Here ar e some other things I've noticed about food in the Philippines .

Firstly, a meal is not a meal without rice - even breakfast. In the UK , I could go a whole year without eating rice. Second, it's impossible to drink without eating. A bottle of San Miguel just isn't the same without gambas or beef tapa. Third, no one ventures more than two paces from their house without baon (food in small container) and a container of something cold to drink. You might as well ask a Filipino to leave home without his pants on. And lastly, where I come from, you eat with a knife and fork. Here, you eat with a spoon and fork. You try eating rice swimming in fish sauce with a knife. One really nice thing about Filipino food culture is that people always ask you to SHARE their food. In my office, if you catch anyone attacking their baon, they will always go, "Sir! KAIN TAYO!" ("Let's eat!"). This confused me, until I realized that they didn't actually expect me to sit down and start munching on their boneless bangus. In fact, the polite response is something like, "No thanks, I just ate." But the principle is sound - if you have food on your plate, you are expected to share it, however hungry you are, with those who may be even hungrier. I think that's great. In fact, this is frequently even taken one step further. Many Filipinos use "Have you eaten yet?" ("KUMAIN KA NA?") as a general greeting, irrespective of time of day or location.

Some foreigners think Filipino food is fairly dull compared to other Asian cuisines. Actually lots of it is very good: Spicy dishes like Bicol Express(strange, a dish named after a train); anything cooked with coconut milk; anything KINILAW; and anything ADOBO. And it's hard to beat the sheer wanto n, cholesterolic frenzy of a good old-fashioned LECHON de leche (roast pig)feast. Dig a pit, light a fire, add 50 pounds of animal fat on a stick, and cook until crisp. Mmm, mmm... you can actually feel your arteries constricting with each successive mouthful. I also share one key Pinoy trait ---a sweet tooth. I am thus the only foreigner I know who does not complain about sweet bread, sweet burgers, sweet spaghetti, sweet banana ketchup, and so on. I am a man who likes to put jam on his pizza. Try it! It's the weird food you want to avoid. In addition to duck fetus in the half-shell, items to avoid in the Philippines include pig's blood soup (DINUGUAN); bull's testicle soup, the strangely-named "SOUP NUMBER FIVE" (I dread to think what numbers one through four are); and the ubiquitous, stinky shrimp paste,BAGOONG, and it's equally stinky sister, PATIS. Filipinos are so addicted to these latter items that they will even risk arrest or deportation tryin g to smuggle them into countries like Australia and the USA , which wisely ban the importation of items you can smell from more than 100 paces. Then there's the small matter of the purple ice cream. I have never been able to get my brain around eating purple food; the ubiquitous UBE leaves me cold.

And lastly on the subject of weird food, beware: that KALDERETANG KAMBING (goat) could well be KALDERETANG ASO (dog)... The Filipino, of course, has a well-developed sense of food. Here's a typical Pinoy food joke: "I'm on a seafood diet. "What's a seafood diet?" "When I see food, I eat it!" Filipinos also eat strange bits of animals --- the feet, the head, the guts, etc., usually barbecued on a stick. These have been given witty names, like "ADIDAS" (chicken's feet); "KURBATA" (either just chicken's neck, or "neck and thigh" as in "neck-tie"); "WALKMAN" (pigs ears); "PAL" (chicken wings); "HELMET" (chicken head); "IUD" (chicken intestines), and BETAMAX" (video-cassette-like blocks of animal blood). Yum, yum. Bon appetit."

A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches" -- (Proverbs 22:1)

WHEN I arrived in the Philippines from the UK six years ago, one of the first cultural differences to strike me was names. The subject has provided a continuing source of amazement and amusement ever since. The first unusual thing, from an English perspective, is that everyone here has a nickname. In the staid and boring United Kingdom , we have nicknames in kindergarten, but when we move into adulthood we tend, I am glad to say, to lose them.

The second thing that struck me is that Philippine names for both girls and boys tend to be what we in the UK would regard as overbearingly cutesy for anyone over about five. Fifty-five-year-olds colleague put it. Where I come from, a boy with a nickname like Boy Blue or Honey Boy would be beaten to death at school by pre-adolescent bullies, and never make it to adulthood. So, probably, would girls with names like Babes, Lovely, Precious, Peachy or Apples. Yuk, ech ech. Here, however, no one bats an eyelid. Then I noticed how many people have what I have come to call "door-bell names". These are nicknames that sound like -well, doorbells. There are millions of them. Bing, Bong, Ding, and Dong are some of the more common. They can be, and frequently are, used in even more door-bell-like combinations such as Bing-Bong, Ding-Dong, Ting-Ting, and so on. Even our newly appointed chief of police has a doorbell name Ping .

None of these doorbell names exist where I come from, and hence sound unusually amusing to my untutored foreign ear. Someone once told me that one of the Bings, when asked why he was called Bing , replied, "because my brother is called Bong". Faultless logic. Dong, of course, is a particularly funny one for me, as where I come from "dong" is a slang word for well; perhaps "talong" is the best Tagalog equivalent.

Repeating names was another novelty to me, having never before encountered people with names like Len-Len, Let-Let, Mai-Mai, or Ning-Ning. The secretary I inherited on my arrival had an unusual one: Leck-Leck. Such names are then frequently further refined by using the "squared" symbol, as in Len2 or Mai2. This had me very confused for a while.

Then there is the trend for parents to stick to a theme when naming their children. This can be as simple as making them all begin with the same letter, as in Jun, Jimmy, Janice, and Joy. More imaginative parents shoot for more sophisticated forms of assonance or rhyme, as in Biboy, Boboy, Buboy, Baboy (notice the names get worse the more kids there are-best to be born early or you could end up being a Baboy). Even better, parents can create whole families of, say, desserts (Apple Pie, Cherry Pie, Honey Pie) or flowers (Rose, Daffodil, Tulip). The main advantage of such combinations is that they look great painted across your trunk if you're a cab driver. That's another thing I'd never seen before coming to Manila -- taxis with the driver's kids' names on the trunk.

Another whole eye-opening field for the foreign visitor is the phenomenon of the "composite" name. This includes names like Jejomar (for Jesus, Joseph and Mary), and the remarkable Luzviminda (for Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao , believe it or not). That's a bit like me being called something like "Engscowani" (for England , Scotland , Wales and Northern Ireland ). Between you and me, I'm glad I'm not. And how could I forget to mention the fabulous concept of the randomly inserted letter 'h'. Quite what this device is supposed to achieve, I have not yet figured out, but I thin k it is designed to give a touch of class to an otherwise only averagely weird name. It results in creations like Jhun, Lhenn, Ghemma, and Jhimmy. Or how about Jhun-Jhun (Jhun2)?

How boring to come from a country like the UK full of people with names like John Smith. How wonderful to come from a country where imagination and exoticism rule the world of names. Even the towns here have weird names; my favorite is the unbelievably named town of Sexmoan (ironically close to Olongapo and Angeles). Where else in the world could that really be true? Where else in the world could the head of the Church really be called Cardinal Sin? Where else but the Philippines ! Note: Philippines has a senator named Joker, and it is his legal name.

years and miles

Seven years ago we were nothing but fat asses tasting college for the first time.
Everyone called you a pothead and I simply looked awkward.
We were pals and stayed pals for as long as I can remember.
I transferred to another campus and you went on with your thing.
I was surrounded by funky gay divas and you were surrounded by your hardened brothas.
We were apart, and then we got together for a cigarette, and then we were apart again.
I found girls for you, because you said so.
I listened to your story and you listened to mine.
And we were drunk.
And we were steady.
But never together.
We played with the idea but never dared jump in.
Now after seven years, you’re still drunk, and I'm still a bit chubby.
Now I'm miles away and you’re telling me we can stay together.
You’re crazy.
I am too.
I believe you Curgs.

Way Back Into Love

From the movie Music and Lyrics. Sigh.

No Other Way

I only know one way to keep being happy.
No one has taught me any other way.
And it feels fine.
Just gets to me sometimes.

Everyone has gone through this phase at some point in their lives.
They have gone through all these things --- ecstasy, helplessness, addiction, depression, plateau plateau plateau.
Down in the dumps they find themselves.
Oh well. It's just one of those nights.
Those awfully lonely nights.

Last weekend I had two strangers read my palm.
One was a lady I met at the beach.
Another was a man I met at the bar.
They both said the same thing.
And once again, after weeks of keeping it in the periphery, it came out, exploded, like a waterfall, water running hard and fast and there was no way to stop it.
Why would they see that in my palm?
They didn't even know where I had been, didn't even know what I had gone through.
They didn't know me at all.
Why would they tell me the answer that I secretly, desperately tried to find?
And how dare they tell me that?
How dare they tell me things I wished for but wanted to go away?
If it never happened I would be doomed.If it did I'd be... I don't know.

And then it would take more than Hibiki nights, more than vodka and wine and whisky, more than parties and movie dates and nice dinners to stop the nightmares.
I don't know what else I'd do.

I don't know any other way to keep being happy.

productivity

I fucked up today.
No, for the last three days.
I have been eating like a pig.
Eating white rice, pork fat, buttery stuff and lots of chocolates and milky biscuits.
I eat when I want to, even when I don’t.
I feel like shit.
I feel like a big scoop of lard walking around.

But as they say, there will always be tomorrow, and you can use it to improve – to correct your mistakes and do better.
I don’t particularly hate myself for eating too much to the point of getting constipated.
I just think I should not have manifested my feelings in hoarding food.

Yes I guess I’ve been lonely for the past few days.
Why? A number of reasons.
I’ve been a coward these past few days.
I want to take one step forward but am a bit hesitant because I am so afraid of criticism.
So afraid.
And I am a little depressed because I had someone analyze my finances and he wasn’t as great as I thought they were.
Finally I am sad because there is a person who’s been giving me the attention and care that I need, but he’s so far away, in Manila. My Manila.

But!!! I didn’t sleep sad last night.
Even though I messed up my diet, I still did a few things to make myself feel better --- an attempt to stop binge eating, binge drinking, binge smoking.
And they ARE pretty great, great enough to cover my loneliness with the blanket of productiveness.

1. I cooked pasta for dinner. I used fresh tomatoes, and with just a glance at the rough recipe on the internet I managed to make it taste like the kind of tomato spaghetti you can have at Fazoli’s. I’m NOT kidding.
2. I finished a whole episode of Nigella Bites, both inspired to make dessert for everyone, and disgusted at how she EATS every dessert she makes. Plus before the show ends she goes to the fridge and naughtily nibbles on the stuff she made. Well I’ll make the fizzy fruity drink anyway. It’s the best dessert I can make. It has sparkling wine in it.
3. I changed my sheets. I really did. After that dream about roaches and itchiness and suffocation I was bound to do it.
4. Read a few pages of A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. I want to get engrossed in it and read it until I sleep. The story is proving to be very very interesting.
5. I haven't shelled out a single cent (shall I say fil) for two days. Yes. I've managed to nick cigarettes from people and cook my own food and eat other people’s. It felt so good to be in control of something other than … well, food.
6. I only had three cigarettes today. Cool.

I always feel like compensating for things I haven’t done and I know that to a certain extent it’s not healthy, but it’s good to know that the need to be productive and brilliant is thriving in me. That’s all I need to know that I am living my life the way I want to.

I woke up in the middle of the night from a horrible dream.
I dreamt of a million little cockroaches eating me up.
They were anoyingly quiet but very very fast in eating up my flesh and irritating my skin. I was scratching everywhere, in every nook and cranny of my body, and I wanted to die because it was so itchy and the cockroaches were not going anywhere.
They were there, crept their way inside the villa up to my room to my bed and multiplied and had a sole purpose --- to destroy me.
And they were doing a good job.
I woke up sweating and so frustrated and out of breath and I immediately took the comforter out of the bed and kept it in the cabinets.
Roaches.

odd pairs

Cuban music, mojito.
One, two bearded men in strange dresses.
A friend online, a glass of wine.
A biscuit, a cup of tea with milk.
A book, a cigarette.
I am never ok with only one thing to do, one thing to consume at any given time.
I am restless and I need things to preoccupy me.
They all come in pairs.
Is it because I am not part of one?

Work was very productive today.
I hope tomorrow it'll be better.
And then I can just take a seat and see things happen.
This is how I want it.

in vino veritas

For ten straight days I've been drinking.
Alcohol has always been available to me and it's hard to resist it.
It's even harder to resist its effect on me.
It gives me a high, gives me confidence to sing to a crowd, puts me to sleep.
Makes me happier in general.
The shallow kind of happy. The kind that makes me shake everyone's hand and laugh at every joke and graciously accept compliments. Strips me of inhibitions and makes me think that the world is a perfect place.
When I'm sober I am quiet, even when I want to say a million things and have a lot of ideas that I want to share with others.
When I am sober I am lonely, and I think about bad things, I worry and I have all kinds of reservations about all kinds of things.

When I am sober I am weaker.
No matter where I am, come evening, I drink.
I have a glass of wine while cooking, a bullfrog when I'm singing at the karaoke bar, a vodka when I'm dancing.
Wine, vodka, bullfrog, whisky, cheap Russian Breezer imitations.
I am queen because I think I am queen and I can say anything I want to say because when the alcohol invades me body I don't care about other people.
I care about myself and I am more open and honest and free.

I first heard the phrase "in vino veritas" from Maggie my orgmate.
It means "in wine there is truth".
And I have proven it to be true.
The most important thing in the world is myself, and that's all I ever want to tell the world. And with a little liqour slowly making its way down my throat, into my stomach, into my brain, I can do that.
Cheers!

the beach missed me and my fat belly

comfort women, comfortable men

I’ve been reading a lot about Japan and Shinzo Abe and their forefathers’ crime during the second World War. And so came about comfort women in Korea, among many countries that Japan invaded. In the Philippines some of our grandmothers also failed to escape the cruelty of those evil chinks.

But these evil chinks weren’t really different from today’s modern men. You. Yes you in the khakis pants, crisp white shirt and shabby Chucks. You love comfort women don’t you. Women to you are but bus stops that you can just stop by along the way and never return to again. No looking back. Forward always forward.

And you say this is how we live these days; that this is really how men are supposed to act, that you’re just having fun and enjoying life, and while women aren’t your priority that doesn’t mean you can’t have them once in a while.

Whatever helps you sleep at night, bastard.

feel it

Sitting out here in the front yard.
Wine.
Wifi.
A fag.
Nachos and salsa.
Nothing special...
but myself.
I forgot all about myself.
I was out for a couple of nights.
And I missed this.
I missed talking alone.
Writing alone.
Feeling alone.
Feeling it.
Just feeling it.
I had no time to feel it.
Now I have no choice, and it's a good thing.

I read about James Frey on the net.
Some site says they investigated his life story and it turned out to be an exaggeration.
A hoax.
But I like James Frey and his writing inspires me and I don't care if he made all that up.
I'll still keep reading his book and feeling his fears and mourning his loss and celebrating his recovery.
So what if he wasn't a hardcore drug addict and wanted in several states.
If he felt that there was a need to make things appear bigger than they are then he should express it in writing.
If he felt absolutely shattered then he should let his readers feel it.
I didn't have a tragic break-up.
It was just SMS that broke the bad news to me.
But it shook my insides and I felt like I died.
And even after that death it was still painful.
And it still haunts me.
Every inch of me aches when I think about it.
And no matter how much I drink and how many songs I sing and how many friends I spend my time with I still grieve.
Sad.
So a quiet text message destroyed my spirit and it's just so hard to rebuild it.
Wherever James is, send him my love.

Ok that was just a glass of wine.
But paired with solitude the truth just flowed like a stream.
From my mind, to my fingers, to the keyboard.

So here's a toast...
With no one...
To feeling it!

Little Miss Can't-Miss-Anything

Ethel commented on our restlessness. We’re sooo… out and about, just thinking about what we do for a whole week, even on a weekend, made her tired. I said I wanted to drown myself in things before loneliness caught up on me. She advised me to say no more, learn to shake my head and just stay home in solitude. I dismissed her advise, saying that YES was a very powerful word, and it can take me places. Many opportunities are waiting to be seized, by agreeing to go some place, meet someone, do something. And then she said… “You should also understand that it’s okay to miss things”… because missed opportunities will always be replaced. Don’t force the time, the place, the person.
Powerful powerful words that I’d like to remember and take with me wherever I go. Together with Colin’s “You have to choose to be happy” and Craig’s “Men are bastards”, Ethel’s “It’s ok to miss things” is now a tool for me to become better, wiser, less tired and with more money (saying yes to everything CAN be expensive).

a walk to the park

A walk in the park.
More like a walk to the park.
A long gruesome walk to the park.
Definitely not a walk in the park.
I walked all the way from my house (near the Fairmont) all the way to Safa Park on Friday noon.
I have no idea what came over me.
I just wanted to walk around aimlessly and see where my feet would lead me.
Also I wanted to do my groceries.
I just put on my rubber shoes and jogging pants and iPod and walked out of the compound.
The sun was killing me, burning my face and piercing my eyes.
But I went on walking until I was in the middle of Satwa, heading to Al Wasl, which I treaded for what seemed like an eternity.
I was sweating profusely.
Singing along with Mariah and Jacko and Beyonce and Gwen.
Doo doo doo doo doo doo.
La la la la la la.
Moderate walking, with my ever-reliable Dragon bag.
I walked one, two, three, maybe 20 km?
More. Definitely more.
I walked for one and a half hours.
For those who are in Manila and therefore have no idea how far I walked, it’s probably a Katipunan-Cubao type of pilgrimage. Diliman-Robinsons Galleria even.
I'm not kidding. Nor exaggerating.
I started at 12:45 PM.
So I walked and walked, stopped once to buy a bottle of water, and kept on walking.
On the pavement, around the flowers, crossing a petrol station, passing by laborers, tourists, expats, locals.
I reached Safa Park at 2:15 PM, and went inside Union Cooperative, the supermarket parallel to it, screaming more water.
I took a kart and walked around to buy the cheapest delicacies and meat and fruits and drinks in town.
I took a carlift home panting.
I took out my groceries and placed them in the fridge, in the shelves, in the cupboards.
And then I slept for three and a half hours.
It was the first time I slept like a baby in months.
No shit.
It felt sooo good.
So good.
I felt like a new woman.
I didn’t even do it consciously, but I did it and it felt good.
It’s an achievement.
Another achievement.
I’ll have to find out how far I walked.
And then I can boast of the number of kilometers I conquered and the amount of willpower I had inside me.
Will power. Control.

Take a walk from Fairmont to Safa Park.
Check.

a new conquest

I have a new goal and achieving it is proving to be very very exciting.

Last Thursday the guys had dinner at my place… because it was Sherry’s birthday! Afterwards we went to Hibiki and I was my usual high self.
In fairness to me, I was getting better and better at Underneath Your Clothes. And Joan, the waiter who controls the song list, knew that it was my last song, paired with the last bull frog I had for the midnight. They obviously decided that I was already a regular. Regular is fine, at least a notch higher than a nameless face in the crowd, but of course regular is what it is --- plain, same old fellow, hi hello, come and go.

I want to be a VIP. One of the UPAA UAE members, Sir Cheng, is definitely a VIP. He goes there and gets served his usual drinks, and he doesn’t have to wait to sing his song… they play it immediately. Nanginginig pa! And I had the pleasure of singing with him. He was actually mastering the rap in Where Is the Love, just as everybody had forgotten about it. That was a bit of a laugh, but it was soooo much fun. I sang the chorus parts --- all five of them, over and over again…
Where is the love, where is the love, where is the love, the love, the love????
And we sang it again last night. And we will sing it again next time.

The highlight of last night’s karaoke was the great showdown. The bartenders just made each one of us come up on stage and give it our best shot.
I didn’t. I was pathetic. I sang Dilemma by Nelly and Kelly Rowland.
But I won. And I think everyone believed that I deserved the gift certificate from Hibiki. Why? Because I was both Nelly and Kelly, didn’t let anyone do the rapping. And I even showed off my moves, moves that no fifty-something lonely white man could showcase in front of a crowd and actually impress them.
Yes, it was bloody awful. I rapped like a gangsta wannabe from Vaseco Compound and sang like an aspiring diva from Sampaloc.
But I did both. And I finished the song. And I won.

Yes, my friend. I’m definitely on the way to where I want to be. And my VIP status at Hibiki will be the greatest milestone in my Dubai life, aside from my professional achievements (they’re not much but I almost sold my soul to get to where I am now).

Now someone to sing with is going to be my next Zeena project.

baguio, december, mama, zoe

I can't believe my mother used the word "bling bling". I almost called her brotha after that. she was telling me how much Zoe enjoyed their Baguio trip and how nice our cousin Rupert was. And that Zoe found it funny that Rupert should wear some Baguio-made silver bling at the age of 12. Tita Amy wanted to wear funky native head dresses with Zoe and Rupert for the sake of a nice picture. Zoe and Rupert of course didn't think it was cool but they didn't really have a choice.

I died inside when I saw their pictures. I badly wanted to be with them and go around the Philippines with my family and relatives.

December, December. So near yet so far.

dees eez ze moment

I had my varicose veins treated today.
After almost ten years of thinking about doing it I finally went ahead with it.
Cosmesurge is a nice place to have your varicose veins treated.
The doctor was a specialist in veins, whatever you call the science.
I just know that he made me feel very comfortable and gave me a good discount because his housemaids in Beirut were all Filipino and they were all dear to his children.
He's actually based in Beirut and France, hence his name Antoine.
He also spoke with a funny French accent, and like most French I know, he never let me talk. I just wanted to thank him for solving my problem and I never got around to uttering any word that made sense before, during and after the treatment because he kept on talking.
I think it's a good thing. Before I knew it the syringes were in the bin and my legs were reborn.
I love it!!!!

Sick

Last night I felt really sick.
I went home at 11 feeling like an old hag.
Today I’m feeling worse.
And I can just imagine what I’ll look like tomorrow.

I am scheduled to have my varicose veins treated tonight.
Yes, I’ve got varicose veins.
I’ve had them since time immemorial and it would be best to banish them before Sherry’s beach thing on Saturday.

I’ve had enough this March and I swear I’m going to take it slow in April.
I’d like to have more “me” time, with lots of journal-writing and window shopping alone and blogging and reading and taking long walks and sleeeeping.
Yes that’s definitely on my list. Sleeping.

I also plan to steer clear of … tadadada . . . dating.
It’s a big joke, I know but I’d really like to be a little less out and about.
Not like I slag around.
It’s just that in a city like Dubai, no matter how many high rises tower over me and bright lights they put up, I’m always going to be lonely. Well, a little less happy than when I was in Manila.
And dating is really tempting because nice dinners always make me feel like a special woman, and great conversations with a nice man are what I live for… but then again I have to take a break and make sure to get rid of the skeletons in my closet.
I am crossing my fingers that it is not a big joke.
I really want to be alone.
I was alone when Guillaume swept me off my feet.
He made me happier for two and a half months but the break-up he initiated was the worst ever. The most traumatic, terrible, unethical, one-sided break-up ever.

With that always in mind… yes I think I do want to be alone.

Lying

Lying is such an easy way to forget.
Say you’re not affected, you weren’t up for it anyway.
That he wasn’t all that and you could do better than be with him.
Say things like, well, he turned out to be Mr. Wrong and I wouldn’t settle for him.
And then, as days go by, these lies become true, thanks to reinforcement by friends and the healing process that all heartbroken girls go through.
If you say these things over and over again until you believe in them, they magically happen.
And this is one of the very few excuses for lying.
Because in this case it is very, very helpful.

Weekends are always the best.
Weekends are the time to stop thinking.

THURSDAY
A seemingly endless karaoke night… in the morning Yolanda handed me a 50-dirham bill. I left it out in the front yard when I was opening the door the night before. What?!

FRIDAY
We all went to Jumeirah Beach Park last Friday afternoon and had a snack.
Sherry and I went to my place to take a nap.
And a few hours later we were in the company of several US Navy officers at the Fairmont Hotel.
We would have painted the town red to the tune of In the Navy and YMCA, but it was Prophet Mohammed’s birthday, meaning it was officially a dry night for all the places in the UAE, except for Nad Al Sheba, because of the Dubai World Cup.
And so we had at least three kinds of coffee on our table and a nice conversation that was really small talk stretched until the bar asked for our last order.
I brought them home to our villa where cold Carlsbergs were waiting for them.
(I meant to tell Craig, still haven’t, but will.)
I waited until I was sure they were good guys and were not going to get rowdy upon consuming alcohol. Each of them only had one, two beers.
Good boys.

SATURDAY
Taebo. Hardcore taebo and then a nice fruit platter for late breakfast with Sherry.
And then we took a looong nap and watched a movie.
300 was good! Really nice. It moved me. To tears. To big fat tears. I was sobbing until I didn’t know if I was crying because Leonidas died and left his queen with only a choker that resembled the ones they make in Boracay, or because I missed Guillaume and was disgusted at myself for having the courage show pain only inside a movie house, where it’s dark and no individual is ever noticed.

To be very honest, I did so many things during the weekend just to tire myself, so that sleep was the only alternative to fun, and breaking down was not an option.