Filipino and Fumbling

#142: Proud or Pained?

I rode the train today to Carriedo - armpit of Manila which is the first major shopping district in this land (I think. Or maybe I was asleep during History class when we discussed the roots of the Megamalls of our little 3rd world country.) On the way, I had a good view of the filthy river cutting through the equally filthy rooftops of Manila. Lovely.

Let me just say that it's good that there was a semblance of efficiency in the National Bureau of Investigations head office (was that because all I needed was a silly dry seal?). I was done by 9:30am and I was happy. My only question is: why did they have to locate themselves inside a cheapster mall? So much for the respectability aspect.

I drove to Fraser Place and closed the deal for the party on Friday. I wrote a check and requested the banquet sales person to please refrain from using Malaysian Mums for the buffet centerpiece. Use grass instead. I'd rather have grass than Malaysian Mums.

A 2pm meeting awaited me. 12noon and I still didn't have a presentation. 1pm, still didn't have anything because I was too busy chewing on breaded slipper slivers disguised as chicken. 13 slides in less than 30 minutes. Pretty good since half of the slides were empty. The phrase "Work-In-Progress" slapped on the title slide works wonders.

At some point in the meeting, I fumbled over the answer to a question I really couldn't answer even if I twisted my own arm and cried blood. But hating to say "I don't know" when it comes to business matters, I had to dig like a mad dog looking for a bone it didn't bury in the first place. (In my head, I was wringing the necks of the people who should've been there but weren't.) I came up with something general yet decent then asked them to throw those questions to the right person as soon as he arrives (which better be soon given that it was already an hour and a half after the agreed meeting time.) He gave the same answer I gave. I cringed. This is the extent of what we know as a team. He probably couldn't give a better answer even if I broke his arm and made him cry blood.

"I'm surprised that you're still working this hard at this point," said he who works till 4am and ends up drooling on his carpet. Well, I'm surprised that you're surprised, you whom I've known for only 2+months and yet have made me realize to a very large extent how we Filipinos really have the tendency to slack off and do shabby work.

Cut to the dinner table conversation where my mom is giving an extremely detailed account of how embarrassing the Philipine delegation to this ASEAN Regional meeting on acceptable Agricultural Practices was. The Philippine team took the honor of having the lousiest presentation among all. My mother watched in horror and wished for the ground to swallow her. My dad and I listened in digust and wanted the ground to swallow they who were bringing us more shame.

I recall seeing a shirt in Ba-Yo earlier this evening which said, "Filipino and Proud." I was tempted to buy it (for use when I leave) but realized soon after that I really didn't believe it so what was the point? I would only be a hypocrite. Besides, being the laughingstock of the class is not the best way to start graduate school.

All I Know

#141: That's All I Know

He shared it with her and she took it then wept as she reached home.
She loved it and that's all she knew.

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ALL I KNOW
Art Garfunkel/Jimmy Webb

I bruise you, you bruise me
We both bruise too easily, too easily to let it show
I love you and that's all I know.

All my plans are falling through,
All my plans depend on you, depend on you to help them grow,
I love you and that's all I know

When the singer's gone, let the song go on...

But the ending always comes at last,
Endings always come too fast
They come too fast but the past, too slow
I love you and that's all I know

When the singer's gone let the song go on,
It's a fine line between the darkness and the dawn
They say in the darkest night there's a light beyond

But the ending always comes at last,
Endings always come too fast,
They come too fast
But the past, too slow
I love you, and that's all I know.
That's all I know, that's all I know.

Love Him

#140: I love Him

I love Him, can't you understand?
I love Him. I love Him. I love Him.
It may not seem like it sometimes since I turn away or close my eyes or put on a face that is less revealing, less real. But I love Him. And I will not trade Him for anything. A rooster may be waiting to crow a couple of times or three; a bag of 30 silver coins may await. But I will not betray the One I love. Not for you. Not for anyone. Not for anything. I will not leave the One who loved me so dearly He stretched out His arms and died for me.
He died for you too, can't you see?
You must love Him. Love Him.
But not for me.

Back to the Future

#139: Wondering for Certain

I always saw myself as a future person. One teacher in High School asked us if we thought we were more of future people (always looking forward to what is ahead), past people (always looking back to the good times had), or present people (enjoying the here and the now.) And that was the answer in my head. Definitely a future person. At the age of 14 or 15, I already dreamt of graduating from Business school with honors, then moving on to take my MBA outside of the country after a couple of years of working. I may not have known at that time what company I wanted to work for or what an office job exactly entailed but that was the path. That was the future. And I was looking forward to it.

I guess it was easy for me to look toward the future that time given that I was a dark scrawny kid with oversized teeth. While normal girls would have guys offering to fan them if a drop of sweat even threatened to appear on their brows, or begging to carry their bags to the point of looking like snatchers, I was wailing over getting a math score of 16/20 in one short quiz or wondering what else to do as Vice-President of the Science Club. Eew. (A bigger eww probably is the fact that I had been a Science Club member since 5th grade. The lone girl member. It was not that I loved science. It may be because I felt more confident in the company of dorks.) Certainly, the future will be so much better.

And so the future would morph into the present, and then to the past. By God's grace I was able to graduate Magna Cum Laude from the business school of The University of the Philippines under full scholarship from Procter & Gamble. I moved on from one company to the next to find myself in The Coca-Cola Company where, as I was making plans to tackle something more hazy, more flexible and more challenging again (a.k.a 'the future'), I started learning the beauty of both looking back and living in the present.

Why am I learning these just now?

Why now, when in 30 days, I'll be leaving my life, my family, my friends to fly off to Sydney for my MBA? Why now, when I'm just 7 days away from turning 28 (i.e., undeniably in my late 20s)?

I feel like I have become a past, present and future person all in one. All at once. And as I think about my teacher's question, I am left to wonder what my answer to him would be now... and if there really should be any choice at all.

Scent of a Woman

#138: Breathe Again

I used to smell of apples and butter and Ralph Lauren's Romance. Now the juniper and evening breeze on my skin nauseates and brings splitting headaches; and I am left to wonder if under the crystal stars or beneath city lights, my scent will one day be drunk deeply and fully again.

Inhale. Exhale.

(Shoop, shoop, shoop, shoo-be-doop...)

Maybe Then

#137: Maybe When You Find Me

Maybe it won't be so hard
When I find you
Or when you find me.
Laughter will mean laughter
And concern will be concern.

Maybe I wouldn't have to guess
Or second-guess
Because yes will mean yes
And your smile will be my rest.

And perhaps I wouldn't have to be so strong
Or tough
Because you will be gentle
And your kindess will be enough.

Then my heart wouldn't be so guarded
Or cold
Because your love will warm me
And I will be safe in your arms' fold.

Out of This World

#136: Get Me Outta Here

I flew past the reed-like women with perfect hair, almost stumbling on a midget. Ack. I needed to get out of the place fast to catch my breath. There was such a high concentration of pretension and I couldn't, for the life of me, bring myself to carry on for another second with small talk under a plastic smile. There are only a number of comments you can come up with about a drink you don't drink. And there are just certain things I can't bring myself to look at or see. And so I just had to flee.

Flee to the consoling arms of this bookshop. There are nicotine addicts who just need to light a cigarette. Like a nerd, I just needed to get a book. Now. Just one good book. Please. And maybe I could spend the night reading in Starbucks while waiting for my friend to get out of the suffocating event. Yes, that was a good plan.

And so I frantically scoured the shelves for one that would draw me. Nothing. Why is this suddenly hard? Is Nick Hornby any good? I picked up one of his non-movie-tie-up books and put it down just as fast. Ugly cover. No one wants a book with an ugly cover. Max Barry. I want his other book. Now. No stock. Fabulous. Just fabulous. What about Rupa Bajwa's "The Sari Shop" which got a good review from Fortune Magazine? (Yes, business dudes read these things too.) Nada. I was starting to have a seizure. I saw a clerk lift up the phone to call either security or the hospital.

Then I bumped into an officemate in one of the aisles.
"Hey Gladys! Who are you with?"
"Uhm. Just browsing around." (*Not exactly THE answer to her question but yeah, like I would tell her I was alone in a bookshop on a Friday night while my companion was at some party with supermodels.) "What about you? Are you with your husband?"
"Yeah. He's in the next aisle."
"Good for you. Okay, gotta go. I have to find a book." (*Which book, I still didn't know at that point. All I know is that it had to be worth the walk there and it had to be good enough to calm my superficiality-shocked nerves.)

My friend was already asking where I was. Not at the party, that's for sure. Drat. I can't leave Fully-Booked without a book. It's like going to a formal fashion show party wearing jeans. It's ridiculous. But oh yeah, I just did that.

Now get me my book and get me outta here too.

White Rock Rocks

#135: Pics from our White Rock Weekend


The first sacrifical lamb for the Tahitian dance.


Shake your looney beach booty!


Surrounded by lovely company and lovely lights


Oooh! Just by the look on Vier's face, you know we're loving it.


Mandatory White Rock Cover Shot

Shut Down

#134: Insufficient Disk Space

I will not think. I will just cut pieces from my brain and paste them on this entry. 36 straight hours of wakefulness running on nothing but powdered energy drinks while working on this powdered juice presentation. Juicy news. Woozy news. It's being in Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf consoling yourself with a tea latte at the end of a long day which involved a car breakdown, a missed trip and a crooked cop... then seeing the crooked smile on the familiar face of a stranger and collapsing in such a comforting embrace. Are you okay? I'm so sorry. It's okay. I'm okay. But I stink. It's okay. It's 2004.

I walk into my office sometimes half-hoping that someone had left a little present on my desk - like a little white chocolate bar stolen from a new product development meeting with another company and a little post-it with shy chicken scratch handwriting boldly (although foolishly) declaring what Holden did in Chasing Amy. "I love you. And not in a friendly way... not in a misplaced affection, puppy dog way, although I'm sure that's what you call it. I love you. Very, very simply, very truly." Or like flowers from a clueless stranger who doesn't know that I hate wine red roses that come in white cardboard coffins so he sends them every Friday until I get freaked out of my little head. Now all I have is my little head.

By the beach we all sing Annie Lennox's version of "Waiting in Vain" while the stars scoff at the dying embers of the bonfire nearby. We talk about songs of the 90's and wish at the back of our little heads that life was still that simple and people were still that sincere. Or simple-minded. I lie back and recall all his lies and how 6 years of comfort were actually 6 years of sitting on nails. And I am glad to be on this filthy beach with good friends rather than on the exclusive one from a decade ago or the pure white sands of Boracay from 3 years ago or from last year. They all brought tragedy one way or another. I should be more careful with this heart. It doesn't do well with nails. And what will you do? Nails are not good for eating.

But you can bite them. I bite my nails when I am stressed and I remember to bite them. And then there's the kind of stress that makes you forget to even exercise such nasty habit. Sukaness, I mutter under my breath. It's like Jack Johnson's song which I won't name. It's like how beautifully this entry could have turned out if I had only used my brain.

END. EXIT. SHUT DOWN.

Autumn Inside

133: Fall in Dreams



So the days fall like petals
While nights are lived out like dreams
Tomorrow unfolds its palms with a promise
While tonight glistens with tears

The heart leaps then weeps
With silent strength in the dark
While it fights with the sunlight
That calls the soul to embark

Catch the fireflies of yesterday
Then put them all in a jar
They will not be enough to warm you
But they will be enough to make you smile