Vexed

#160: Mixed Veggies

I stepped into our apartment elevator and immediately wanted to faint. Which sick person would fart in an elevator? My mind went on rewind mode. Must be this Korean guy on his way out of the building as I was stepping in. He avoided looking at me. Definitely guilty.

So I was stuck inside the gas chamber and the thing that concerned me the most was what if someone stepped in before I reached my floor and thought I did the dirty deed? Ugh.

Anyway, if "Mixed Feelings" were a day, it would be today. Over and over in my head, Desiderata ran.

Go placidly amid the noise and haste and remember what peace there may be in silence. Peace? Peas. I think there are peas at home I can mix with the squash. All veggies go together anyway. We need veggies in our blood.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all people. Speak your truth quietly and clearly. And listen to others - even the dull and ignorant, they too have their story. Which reminds me, that dude is really dull. It's such a shame that underneath that gorgeous shell, he doesn't really have any story to tell. Beautiful packaging, boring product.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons. They are vexations to the spirit. Vexations. That was a tough word for a 2nd grade student to chew. Yes, my mother forced me to memorize Desiderata in 2nd grade.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter, for always, there will be lesser and greater persons than yourself. As a kid, my mind then proceeded to count my playmates and see which ones were greater and lesser than I was. It goes without saying that I completely missed the point of the line.

And so it ended there. I never got to memorize the whole thing. That was where I got stuck and so, more than two decades later, that's all I can recite. Very much like the Multiplication table that I refused to memorize beyond the Table of 6. I'm 28 years old now and still paying for the resultant math skills (or lack thereof.)

We had our Accounting midterm exam today and after a little over 2 years of Accounting, the subject still hates me. Why? Why? Why? Why does this exam remind me of the song, "If you don't know me by now. You will never never never know me.... Ooooohoohooohooohooo..."

Another big "why" is why I ended up in the Advanced Class for Data Analysis and Decision-Making. Randomization makes my brain shoot off bits in random directions while Conditional Probability still subjects me to harsh conditions. I think I'll die while taking the Data Analysis midterm exam on Thursday.

The list of electives for next term is also out. And while I am specializing in Marketing, I'm thinking that maybe I'll go for a non-Marketing elective. Maybe I'll take Statistical Methods in Business Modelling and Forecasting. Just for the fun of it.

Wake me up when vexations start being fun.

Sequel

#159: In Fairness

Last Friday was a disaster in more ways than I was able to convey in my last entry. Let me just clarify that I am not lamenting anything and I am not in a state of helplessness. I've always been a believer of going against the flow if you don't like how things are going. Instead of opening your mouth to complain, move your hands and make a change. Then, write an entry.

You see, being in the pub was not the issue. I know it's very easy to say, if you don't want to see people drinking, then don't go to the pub. Not in Sydney, not in the Philippines. (In the same way that if you don't want to see indecently-clad people, don't go to the beach.) It was the crassness in which people whom I thought were more in control of themselves allowed their dignity to get flushed down the toilet. Note that there was a pre-conceived notion that they were more mature, hence, my decision to spend Friday night with them. In fact, all the dirt came out not in the pub but in the wholesome Mexican restaurant wherein we had dinner. Now, there were sane individuals. The people I had previously tagged in my head as 'good apples' remained good apples. Those who showed their true colors that night, I'm actually having difficulty looking at in class this week. It is good to make such a distinction.

Now, as an update, I would like you to know that as early as last week, I've planned this coming Friday night to be different. The beautiful Asian ladies in class plus a couple of severely-screened guys will be doing Japanese dinner, Karaoke and Salsa. Good clean fun. We even made sure that the group was limited to hand-picked people - no additional invitees. No beerheads. No indecent proposers.

Do I regret last Friday night? Well, I said I could've spent time in a better way, but I believe I needed to see those things. I had realizations that night that I wouldn't have arrived at had I not seen all the gore. It was liberating to some extent. It was having enough to now have an excuse not to give the benefit of the doubt to some people. It is knowing which are the rotten tomatoes then being able to throw them out. Harsh? Well, isn't this the process of selection? It is the building block of knowing who will deserve your time, your energy, your Friday nights.

Now Sydney has a plethora of beautiful things to offer. I love it here. I am enjoying it here. But this doesn't change the fact that I am missing my Friday night buddies. And the Tea Latte. (Ask me again when Cofee Bean & Tea Leaf arrives in Australia.)

Sense & Sobriety

#158: Sober Sukaness

We went to The Royal in Coogee yesterday after our 3-hour afternoon lecture. There is really no good excuse for a single person to go straight home on a Friday. There will always be reason to celebrate something - be it that sigh of relief at the end of the workweek or the anticipation of a good weekend. And so I threw my stuff in my locker and told myself I could join the class for drinks.

Thing is, I don't drink. Which would always surprise people. Like, what in the world is wrong with you? It's like having a baby refuse milk! And so, while my classmates downed pitchers and pitchers of fermented barley, I stood and laughed around with them while holding a glass of this strawberry and mint mocktail named, "Dynamite." Kaori, my Japanese classmate, said the other week, "Gladys, you should order this. It's non-alcoholic plus it describes you. Dynamite." Dynamite Dikya sounds good.

Now, I usually get at least three questions per event on why I don't drink and yesterday was no different. I think I'll write my reasons here and just direct people to this site. Heck no. But still, here goes:

1. It's part of my religious convictions
- No, it's not a direct prohibition just like in cults which prohibit you to cut your hair or ban you from eating anything with eyes. The Bible even talks about Jesus turning water into wine. Thing is, the Bible also talks about not getting drunk with wine which leads to debauchery. (Ephesians 5:18). Now, how much will it take to get you to that point? 1 glass? 2 glasses? 1 bottle? 15 bottles? Where do you draw the line? And when the people you teach see you and use you as the barometer for what is acceptable, will you lead them astray?
- In 1 Corinthians 10:23, Paul says, "Everything is permissible but not everything is beneficial. Everything is permissible but not everything is constructive." I do not believe alcohol is beneficial for me. Everytime I see beer, I remember my liver and decide that I would love to keep it. I know there are studies that certain types of alcoholic drinks have health benefits but I think my body will benefit more if I just force myself to eat carrots. (Ech.)

2. It's a personal preference
- Certain occasions would require the opening of a bottle of champagne or wine or whatever - a toast here for the new year or a toast there for the newly-weds. I take a sip in the name of politeness, but I can't say I enjoy the taste or like the smell. The ones I enjoy are the ones that are closest to tasting like Lift or Welch's Grape (Royal Tru-Grape too, why not?) Call me ignorant or uncivilized but given the choice, I'd toast with Coke Zero.

And so, I held on to fancy red drinks throughout the night. If some people can fault me for not drinking alcohol, no one can fault me for being boring with my choice of drinks. This British guy said, "You're such a marketer even in your choice of drinks!" (Uhm. Are you pertaining to my glass of fancy schmancy diva-fied supermarket-quality cranberry juice?) Ah yes.

Towards the end of the night, everyone below 30 was shot out of their brains. It was horrific. Someone peed by the stairs of some building. Another one blabbed about his "escapades" with notable figures in the student circle (completely reducing himself to some dog in my eyes.) There was one who picked up a burrito with his non-existent third thumb and practically threw out the image of coolness he had been projecting since the start of classes. A girl clumsily executed her strategy of getting close to her target guy and ended up looking like a desperate housewife. There was one who sat quietly the whole night only to scrap whatever esteem I held him in by coming up with an indecent proposal. And yet another passed out on the pavement. Sweet.

I miss my old Friday night friends. Fridays shouldn't be this pathetic. It may have been better for me to have gone home early to reminisce about substantial and substantially more enjoyable conversations in cafes in Greenbelt or Rockwell or The Fort... over a beautiful cup of Chai Tea Latte and Mango Pannacotta. Or Tartufo. Or all the poignant non-alcoholic things that Friday nights used to stand for.

Cheers to sense and sobriety!

Sydney Snippets

Feb.11.2006: With Tom and Shihantha at Pablo's House Party

Feb.11.2006: With the Beautiful Wives of Matt, Pablo and German.

Feb.11.2006: At Sydney Harbor National Park, Watson's Bay

Feb.11.2006: At Bronte Beach with Monica & Young

Jan.29.2006: New friends from church - Sunny, Sue and Young

Jan.29.2006: Manly Beach w/ Jenny (but she took the pic so she's not here.)

Jan.28.2006: With Bill & Ching Ling at Blake's Bday Party

Jan.27.2006: Darling Harbor w/ Coke Philippines Hot Babes

Jan.27.2006: At the AGSM Wild Wild West Party with people from Coke Philippines

Jan.15.2006: At Olivier's Party with Jill and Capucine

Missing Fully-Booked

#157: Missing Friends

I was giddy all morning at the thought of having the whole afternoon free. Free to fly off to Bondi Junction and get myself one book I've been waiting to come out for some time. I was able to drag my Indonesian friend, Rini, by telling her that she can review her Organizational Behavior (or shall I say Organisational Behaviour?) notes while I'm book-hunting. (Yeah right. Who ever gets to do schoolwork in a mall?)

I almost flew out of the bus in excitement. I mean, Fully-Booked in little old Philippines gets their stock almost the same time they are released in the US. Borders will have the book. They should. Or they should close down.

Surprise, surprise. The biggest bookstore in Westfield (their version of our SMs) doesn't have it. Does not know even when they will have stocks. Goodness. This is an Australian author we're talking about. How could the book be available across the US and not be available in the author's homeland? (Note the generalization that Borders, Westfield in Bondi Junction represents the whole country.) I wanted to stab the guy behind the counter. Stab him with a drinking straw. (I'm no killer.)

Thank goodness I had so much leftover "happiness" from yesterday. Feb 8 goes down as one of my favorite days.

In the morning, we had the head of Strategic Planning of Leo Burnett talk to us about his job. Really cool guy. Who would've thought that with his funky "Go Green" shirt, tattered jeans and youngish (i.e. late 20's) looks, he's some bigshot executive in his firm. 10 years ago, he got his MBA degree from AGSM and at the last moment, while waiting for his final interview with McKinsey in New York, he suddenly walks out and says that he doesn't want to do Consulting. (Okay, it was triggered by this McKinsey guy who walked out of the elevator and declared to him that McKinsey ruined his life.) And so he headed down the path of Strategic Planning for an Advertising Agency... a job which he still loves up to now. When was the last time you talked to a person who's so enthusiastic about his job he sounds like he would have married it if that were constitutionally possible.

After that talk, we headed off to this Presentation Skills workshop which I didn't learn much from but which I really enjoyed because I made this silly presentation about a fictional business offering fictional services involving makeovers of "clueless" men. If there's Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, here's my Diva for the Dork. The class embraced the idea and I still get a laugh out of reading the stuff I wrote on the slides (stuff I wrote at 3am that same day.)

In the evening, someone from church picked me up for the Bible study. Boy, was his car clean. I mean, I was afraid to move lest I unsettle some hidden dust particles. Very very neat. Which is good. (Ok, my car back home was a mess in that my brother and dad would always pound me for having too much stuff BUT it wasn't filthy. Plus, my friend Teej said, "the prettier the girl, the messier the car." I believe that. So I keep on messing it up so I get some form of affirmation, no matter how misguided. But guys are different. They should have clean cars. The cleaner the car, the cooler the guy. I think. I remember my friend Gerard who used to give me a lift from time to time. His trunk is the most organized place on earth. You see his shoes lined up like a bunch of army guys holding a salute even after going through a winding road up some mountain. He has plastic containers for his other stuff so that everything fits like Lego. The inside is spotless. Not even a thumbmark. CSI would have a hard time getting any form of evidence from there.) But I digress. The point is, it was good to meet yet another set of charming people. The network just grows and grows and I'm glad. I already have a camping trip invitation for two weeks from now. Another invitation for a soccer game. Another option for a day at Bronte Beach. All good.

I was making a mental list of all the friends I've made so far - people I've personally allowed to transition from being mere faces to potential friends, but while they make me smile, they also remind me of the good friends I've left behind. I miss them terribly. All these activities, in my mind, would be best enjoyed if so and so were here or if this friend or that set of friends from back home could just be part of them.

Just this afternoon, I read a review about "Lady Vengeance" and I already knew the set of friends who would've gladly gone with me to watch it. Raise your hands, all you who enjoyed Vanilla Sky and Kill Bill. I wander inside a bookstore and I half-expect one of my friends to just be around the next shelf, ready to hear how amazing this cool new book I'm holding is. I walk past cafes and I know just which of my friends would be willing to spend hours with me there.

I guess I am having a less-than-easy time handling the huge influx of new people in my life. I've always surrounded myself with people, my good friend Jus correctly observed. Thing is, these are people I've collected carefully, and one by one over the years. It's quite a different thing to see yourself surrounded by many people with whom you have very weak affiliations. Activities abound but deep ties are rare, if at all, existent. I am almost forced to break down my self-erected walls at a rate that I'm not too adept at managing yet. I need the walls. They keep me safe.

I also need to stop rambling. To keep you sane.
And so this entry ends like Parokya ni Edgar's "Yes-Yes Show."

Borders should close down.

P is for Potato

#156: Also for Personality

She combed her hair today. For a change. She appears to have made peace with her shower and the permanent grease on her scalp seems to have surrendered. But of course, this is all for him, so that she could sit beside him and let him know that she is a girl, not a potato. She has also finally discovered the existence and proper use of earrings. Potato rings, anyone?

His eyes continue to be blank. Blank when looking at her. Blank when looking at me. So what is it that is or isn't there? Does it start with a P? Shall we order a double dose of personality? When I get kids of my own, remind me to raise them with personalities. And with a fondness for washing their hair.

I guess that was what Kolker had that drew me to him. True, he was losing hair daily by the hundreds. True, he has a bit of a paunch. True, he has a dreadful shirt with David's star on it rendered in red and green. And true, he was a lunatic. BUT, he had a fascinating personality that came with an unspoken promise that through repetitive microwave or Japanese or Korean dinners, conversation will always be new. Laughter will always be hearty. And the moment will always be fresh. No blank stares here. Only brief moments of silence within which to catch our breath so we could be silly again.

Hmm. Perhaps I am seeing things in the forgiving haze of the past. He was after all, Kolker. And in the end, he proved to be unkind.

She inched closer to him and for a second, I was sure she would touch his cheek again. In class. While we were all going through the topic of Data Randomization. Ech. He looks straight ahead as if in the trance. No effect. I almost feel sorry for the girl. How can you pour so much effort on someone so unresponsive, so boring, so dead? Go hug a tree instead.

Tonight

#155: I Write

Tonight I can write the saddest lines
Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.