Jolt

Last Monday, while in bed watching reruns of KUWTK, I felt my bed swaying and hitting against the wall. I didn’t think much about it during the first few seconds, as that is not unusual (My room is on the third floor of the house so even just heavy walking would make it move). Not long after, it became a rolling motion much like being on a boat, and the TIE fighter hanging by the TV was moving back and forth.

EARTHQUAKE! I said to myself.

I got up, looked out the window and saw people still going by their usual business oblivious of what's happening. It didn't last long judging by the change to nervous faces, they've probably realized it already. Some ran, while most just froze and tried to gain balance by holding on to something. I could hear creaking sounds everywhere and got scared that the entire house would just collapse with me on it.

I heard my kuya yelling from downstairs: “Lindol! Lumilindol! Lumilindol!”—as if none of us were feeling it. I was particularly worried about my mom who was with the kids, while slightly annoyed at my older brother’s show of panic. At times like this, presence of mind and keeping calm is still the best way to go.

It lasted for less than a minute and every one of us is okay, thankfully. Our house, which will not take a shake stronger than that—is still standing. I hurriedly checked my phone for tweets and posts, hoping to get more details.

These are the very few times that I am thankful for social media as it didn’t take that long for me to know. I Googled “Earthquake Today” and saw that it was a 6.1 magnitude earthquake (6.3 as per US Geological Survey) and the epicenter was the town of Castillejos in Zambales (near Subic).

Sadly, even if it was a short earthquake, there were still casualties. As of this writing, the death toll is already at 11 and most were victims of a supermarket in Pampanga that collapsed. One of the recorded deaths is of this boy who's just about the same age as my older nephew. Such a tragedy.

To think, Philvolcs said, "it's a strong earthquake but not a major one." Imagine what a "major one" would be like to a densely-populated area like Metro Manila.

Less than 24 hours later, another much-stronger earthquake hit the town of San Julian in Eastern Samar, with a magnitude of 6.5. At about 2 AM today, a 4.4 magnitude earthquake hit Luzon again (at the same epicenter of Castillejos, Zambales). Then just a few hours ago, another earthquake with a magnitude of 4.7 hit Mindanao. While we can dismiss it as a pure coincidence, it is scary considering the short intervals.

What? All our faultlines and trenches started moving?

This only fueled the fears and talks of "The Big One" yet again. The Philippines lies along the Pacific Ring of Fire, where there is frequent seismic and volcanic activity. There is the eventuality of "The Big One", that it’s no longer a question of ‘if’ but more a question of ‘when’. Basic preparedness during an earthquake is encouraged now more than ever. We have earthquake drills and exercises in the event that it strikes while we’re in the office building (RCBC Plaza is said to be earthquake-proof), but I don’t know if we can be fully prepared for it.

I'm pretty sure I will not remember everything I learned in our Crisis Management Training when already faced with a strong earthquake. In my case last Monday, I just froze where I was standing. I didn't even remember to 'duck, cover and hold' or stay away from potential danger. Honestly, even if I am not the type who would go on a panic mode, I also wouldn't be able to react at once. While others would probably take flight, I wouldn’t even know what hit me until it did.

The West Valley Fault is one of the major segments of a fault system that runs through Metro Manila. According to what I read, it moves every 400 to 500 years and the last on record was sometime in the 1600s. I don't want to do the math, but we're probably on 300+ years now.

West Valley Fault in red

The thing is, even with our technology today, nobody can accurately predict earthquakes. People can only do as much as relate occurrences such as weird animal behavior, cloud formation, frequency of small earthquakes, global warming, etc. as precursors to one. According to studies, over 30,000 Filipinos may die if a major West Valley Fault movement with a magnitude 7 happens. It is going to be a disaster of epic proportions, something I wouldn't want to live long enough to witness.

I pray that if "The Big One" happens in my lifetime, that it's going to be a quick death for me. No more getting stuck under floors of rubble; no more drinking my own pee to survive; no more waiting for days just to get rescued; no more having to amputate my leg just to get me out.

Just a fatal blow that hopefully, I wouldn't even feel.

***
For most of my colleagues at work, last Monday's earthquake was their worst ever. This is because most of them were too young, or maybe not yet even born when the 1990 Luzon earthquake happened.

I was on my sophomore year in High School when the July 16, 1990 earthquake happened and it was the strongest and deadliest earthquake in memory. I remember it was after class, and I was in the library doing my research when it hit. I don’t recall being hysterical, but I did run towards the door of the library hoping to go down and flee to the quadrangle where I think it would be safer. But because of the violent shaking, I was forced to drop onto my hands and knees with some of the other students before I could even get to the door.

My attention was drawn to the fish aquarium, which by this time was already half-empty with all the strong shaking. The swaying stopped momentarily, so I tried to stand up slowly before it shook violently again. I could hear the students screaming, crying and praying.

I was barely 14 years old, with so many years ahead of me and yet I feel I could die at that very moment. (Thinking of it now, if I did die then I would die a geek since they had to retrieve my body in the library—of all places!). I was saying a silent prayer in between whimpers and after what seemed like many minutes on my knees, the shaking stopped and we heard someone talking at the school PA system telling us what to do next. I honestly don't recall the specifics anymore, being that it was almost 30 years ago. I don't remember how I went back for my things or if I even saw any of classmates right after or even how I got home that day.

That earthquake killed more than a thousand, mostly in Northern and Central Luzon. It was the one that destroyed the Hyatt Terraces Hotel in Baguio and collapsed Christian College of the Philippines. It was those stories of the victims and the survivors that are forever etched in my young memory. It was something I wouldn't want to experience or hear of ever again.

To think, that wasn't "The Big One" yet.

In The Endgame Now

The highly-anticipated movie of 2019, Avengers: Endgame, will be showing next week, and I can’t tell you how excited I am to see it. It’s all I think about these past few days.

I have been a fan of many film series but let me tell you that nothing — not the X-Men or even my childhood favorite, Star Wars franchise — got me this crazy-psyched and emotionally-invested. I have been waiting for this sequel since I was left with my mouth gaping at the end of Avengers: Infinity War last year.

For the entire time, there has been a lot of speculation on how the movie will end. The most-talked-about is the possibility of the original Avengers Captain America and Iron Man making a heroic sacrifice to defeat Thanos that would eventually kill one or both of them.

Just the mere thought of it is making my stomach turn upside down. Iron Man is my favorite Avenger ever, while Captain America, being played by Chris Evans—is currently my only object of carnal affection.

When they released the movie’s official poster a few weeks back with the Cap right smack in the middle, I thought, does this give us a clue of his impending doom? Will he make the ultimate sacrifice to save another Avenger? Iron Man is also almost superimposed on the poster—will he die as well? Is this why Doctor Strange traded the Time Stone for Tony Stark’s life because he saw his importance? 

I don’t know about RDJ, but I can’t help but think that there is a strong possibility that this will be the last time I’d see Evans as Captain Rogers. After all, his six-picture contract to play the “Star-Spangled man with a plan” is up and has been very vocal about wanting to do other things. If the year-long speculations were true, then I don’t think I can deal with it that easy and y’all might see me come out of the theater in tears.

Iron Man, even after the arrival of all the other super cool characters, is still my favorite Avenger. The whole MCU would be boring without our favorite genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist. However, after that Edinburgh scene in Infinity War, when Captain America appeared in the shadows at a train station to rescue Wanda and Vision, I have developed this huge-crush-bordering-obsession on Chris Evans (I’ll tell you more about that on a separate post), so he came in close second to Iron Man since then.

No shit. If one (or both!) of them dies in the movie, it will be much more hurtful than my recent breakup.

The film will open in theaters here in the Philippines on April 24. As much as I want to be the first one running to see it, I can’t, since it falls on a weekday. I wouldn’t want to watch it then probably call-in sick the next day if Stark or Rogers die so I reserved a ticket for the 3:15 PM screening on Friday, April 26. I have the whole weekend to “recuperate” if the ending turned out to be exactly what I feared it to be.

The film will run for three hours, so remind me to wear an adult diaper and ditch the biggie iced tea to lukewarm bottled water so my bladder won’t go knockin’. Make it a large popcorn and New York hotdog sandwich for me to bring inside as 180-minutes is no joke for my extra-efficient stomach.

I can't wait for a lot of things! For one, I want to know how Stark will be able to go back to earth (I’m sure Nebula will play a vital part) and how will it be joining forces with Rogers again after their fallout in Civil War. I would love to see Rocket (I find him very entertaining in IW) and was particularly thrilled seeing the trailer where he was all-suit up as an Avenger.

I am intrigued on what Danver’s meta-human/Kree powers (the end of IW made it seem that Fury thinks she’s the best bet to save the day) and Ant-Man’s knowledge of the Quantum Realm could do to help the earth’s mightiest heroes beat Thanos.

Must I forget Thor? Will he finally go for the head of the titan with his Stormbreaker? (I still believe he’s the mightiest and most powerful Avenger and I don’t care what Captain Marvel fans say). Will an enraged Banner turn to Hulk now and “smash”? How about our super assassins Black Widow and Hawkeye? Will they have the fight of their lives? Will Hawkeye be Ronin now?

And Groot. Heck, they must bring back Groot.

Endgame is going to be jam-packed, that’s for sure, as there are lots of questions that needed answers. I don’t think it will have that many slow scenes like in Infinity War (I got bored on the Soul Stone scene at Vormir where Thanos sacrificed Gamora). I predict it to be so epic and climactic, a fitting end to MCU’s Phase 3.

Now as I will be a couple of days behind, I am hoping that I won’t see any spoilers posted on my social media newsfeed. I tell you—if I see something even as vague as an emoji or a quote from the movie that gives away what happened, I am ready to hit the UNFRIEND button on anyone faster than Thanos could snap.

Beauty in any color

Let's face it — there are some things about the Filipino culture that can be described as toxic and discriminatory. While we are quick to call out and boycott anyone who we perceive to be shaming and insulting us in general, we are all usually guilty of the same.

One example of this is the Filipino idea of beauty as someone who has white skin. So backward, I know, since we are a brown race, but we cannot blame the people who believed this notion as it’s hard-wired in most of us. This dates back to colonial times when Spaniards had this social hierarchy based on skin color. They associate the dark-skinned as laborers or indios, while the white-skinned or mixed-race, were the upper-class.

It’s no secret that a lot of Filipinos are just obsessed with making their skin white perhaps because even now, there's still skin color discrimination going on. I won't go far, here in the Philippines it's very common. People with white skin are perceived to be wealthier and more successful. And whether you believe so or not, having white skin does come with privileges.

I admit I was once one of those people who had the white-skin obsession as I am naturally brown-skinned. My color, while typical of a true Filipino, is something that I was not proud of and even believed that it was the reason behind some of the unfair treatment I got in the past. How many times have I experienced not being entertained by a salesperson inside a swanky shop but being all gracious and helpful to someone who has a whiter skin? How many times have you heard someone who got scammed say, "Hindi ko akalain na magnanakaw eh. Maputi eh, mukhang mayaman."? This is because many of us automatically think that a person who has a whiter skin color has money, while someone who's dark-skinned is probably the shoplifter. (I'm merely putting humor to it, but I'm being totally serious.)

Frankly, I wouldn’t have cared if I have the coffee color if not for our society having unfair beauty standards which made it seem that being white is more attractive. I was called all sorts of names growing up but "negra" is probably the one I always resented. As a child, I wished that I could've just gotten my mother’s skin color instead of my dad’s. It’s kinda unfair that I got it being the girl in the family when my brothers have a lighter skin tone than mine. I remember being teased by close relatives that I was adopted, and that my biological father is this homeless guy I see on my way to school every morning. There was a point that even if I don't believe it (Hell, I am the "carbon-copy" of my father), I got so upset that I cried. It's emotionally traumatic for an eight-year-old to be singled out and be the butt of jokes just because of her skin color.

While the childhood teasing didn’t go on until puberty, it manifested differently and way more deeply. As a teen, I witnessed the perks of having a whiter skin firsthand through interaction with the opposite sex. "Fairer is better", indeed, mainly when I see how guys gravitate towards the mestizas and white-skinned classmates and friends, while the negra right here would remain unnoticed and undesirable on the sidelines. I know attraction isn't always just skin-deep but back then, that was how I interpreted it. My crush liked her because she's tisay and I am not. At the time I feel that no one will ever find me more beautiful than someone who is fair-skinned. This shallowness messed up my psyche that I lost confidence and became highly insecure, especially in my teenage years.

I’d often find myself looking at the mirror, touching my face, looking at my arms and legs. It’s not just brown, it’s uneven! With some parts darker than the other. I tried washing it off and scrubbing it, I mean—who knows if it just might be accumulated dirt, right? But no matter how long I stayed in the shower, I still have the same color when I step out.

I absolutely hated it that I resigned to the belief that probably society was right: White is beautiful. And if I want to be accepted, I have to be a few shades lighter.

Naturally, as soon as I started earning my own money, I tried every whitening soap and lotion up to expensive glutathione pills that I could afford. I've tried one after the other, and it was a painstaking process to wait for results. Oftentimes, I see no change, at least not what was promised in the ads I see and read. While it did make me lighter, I am still no doubt a morena and no product can cover that.

As years passed, it had become somewhat of a preference to me as well, like how I am more attracted to guys with whiter/fairer skin. Even with the emergence of brown-skinned celebrities, I still think that those who have foreign blood are being given more breaks. For me, the white ideology has always been there in real and reel life.

Then I got a chance to work with expats and foreigners later on and have encountered a lot of them—men and women alike—absolutely loving the skin I was born with. I don’t get it at first how some would go to great lengths such as lying under the sun for hours or paying a tanning salon to achieve my color while I tried to make my skin lighter all my life. It's funny how I got the acceptance and admiration of people other than my own.

It was a long process of acceptance but, in the end, I have learned to love the color of my skin. I'm no longer obsessed with how to make it whiter. I am more concerned with how to make it clear, glowing and looking healthy.

Last weekend, I saw this online ad on Facebook and I was left speechless:

Here is the translation:

“Just because she’s fair-skinned, she was given a seat on the bus? Isn’t that unfair?” 

“Don’t be mad. Use GlutaMAX! Your fair advantage.” 

I have talked about the unfair treatment and injustices I've experienced so I don't doubt that this happened to someone. But the problem with this ad right here is the message it is trying to send across for it simply means that morenas like me shouldn’t be upset or angry if I get discriminated against or if I don’t get the same privilege for having a dark skin color, but instead just strive to be white by using their product.

I mean—REALLY?!

As it turns out, I wasn’t alone on this sentiment. This ad has since been taken down but not before receiving an influx of backlash online. Many netizens feel that the way the message was presented was wrong and it promotes ‘colorism’. This also pits the morenas against the fair-skinned, of one resenting the other.

GlutaMAX, if I remember it right, is the same product that had the tagline, "Kutis Mayaman". I guess the marketing people responsible for this latest online ad are simply capitalizing from all the negative reactions coming from it. I think they do want to evoke these reactions to get people to talk about their product.

It is business, I know, and they have to sell their line of whitening products. However, they should not forget their social responsibility. They should not promote stereotyping or pigeonholing a particular group, or insinuate that one skin color is definitely superior/inferior to the other. Imagine if a dark-skinned girl sees that and ends up feeling the same way I did when I was younger. Unpretty. No good. Inferior in so many ways. It can be damaging to her as it was for me. It took me decades to accept and embrace my color. It took me more than half my life to love the skin that was given to me.

I really thought we’re over this crappy perception and social prejudices as we have many groups now promoting love for one’s skin color but I guess we haven't gotten too far.

Offline

On the first week of this month, our bank announced that due to major system upgrading, most of their services will be down for three days (April 5-7). The timely advisory was a big help because I made my withdrawals early as I have plans of taking out my nephews the next day.

Our payday falls every 10th and 25th of the month. As it was a legal holiday last April 9 (Valor Day), we were all surprised seeing that they have already credited our salary that very day. Before going home, I withdrew enough money to pay the bills and the following morning was able to transfer money to our credit union's bank account without any hitch.

Right about 10:30 AM of April 10, the office went into a frenzy when employees said that their salary—the entire amount—disappeared from their accounts. I tried checking mine online and through mobile app, but both were inaccessible.

Another bank glitch. Unannounced. Taking all of us, who are all excited `coz it’s payday, by surprise. I have about a little over a thousand pesos in my wallet, left from what was withdrawn the night before. Even so, I wasn't particularly panicking at first as I thought it will be resolved and up in a few hours. However, the day ended with still no money in our accounts and all financial transactions on hold. Many customers opted to go directly to the bank, but even that is no help as they weren't allowed to do over-the-counter withdrawals and transactions.

More than 24 hours later, the entire system is still offline. Many irate clients took their anger and frustration to Twitter and Facebook, while our Management was quick enough to offer cash advance (maximum of 1,000 pesos) to those who are in dire need of funds for whatever the reason. It may not be enough for some of us who need to pay the bills scheduled around that payday, but we are grateful for the initiative. I mean, beggars can't be choosers. 

The next day, Friday, I checked my account through the mobile app to see that I have negative 7,000+ pesos. How they arrived at the amount down to the last cent, I don't know, but that's what it says. It seems like I was the one who owed something from my bank.

No ETA or timeline was given except for that very canned response: "We are working hard to restore these services as soon as possible." —no sense of urgency, whatsoever. At the time I have around 300 pesos left, certainly not enough as we have a team activity scheduled that day. Adding to the worry is the possibility that it may stretch until over the weekend which means I'm stuck at home penniless and able to do nothing.

The thing is that our bank, one of the biggest in the Philippines, would always have the same issue from time to time. They already denied rumors that the system was compromised, and instead explained that it's really just a glitch. They weren't being very transparent so many people can't help but speculate that it was indeed hacked.

The bank has become so unreliable that many of us thought that our office should reconsider their ties with them and switch to a better bank (aside from our payroll, we have invested a part of our retirement fund with them). Some of us who have two accounts are contemplating opening a back-up account with another bank.

Our feelings are valid. This is our hard-earned money and yet we couldn't get it. I have heard many stories on how plans were ruined by the said system upgrade. Regular people plan their getaways and bills payment near payday for obvious reasons, so it's unacceptable that customers will have to bear things like penalty for late payment. Many were just living paycheck to paycheck, so a glitch of such magnitude would cripple one's budget tremendously. What if the need is urgent? Or if there was an emergency? People were always encouraged to keep their money in banks, but how can us customers feel secured after the glitches we experienced? We have certainly lost our confidence in the current banking system.

BSP (Bangko Central ng Pilipinas) cannot do anything but monitor the situation. It made me think how our bank can just get away with no liability after they've restored all their services. Like, no harm was done. I have not heard of any incident that they compensated a client for the trouble caused by their systems being offline for days. If for anything, some who had their accounts debited (made a withdrawal in an ATM but no money came out) had to wait for many business days for the money to be back. In short, clients are forced to take the brunt on their own.

I am aware of the technology that modern banking these days entails as it involves complicated internal servers and data processes. Then again, it's only right that financial institutions as big as my bank should tell us what really happened and make sure that this not happen as often.

Heads should roll, systems rechecked and security tightened.

Helter Swelter

The record-breaking heat index in Metro Manila, specifically in my home city of Pasay, is all over the news this week. Whoever said that Global Warming is a hoax should be made to stay under the Manila sun at 2 PM.

Every year I helplessly whine about the weather and couldn't stop complaining. I never liked summer in the Philippines, at least not since years ago when the temperature started rising to infernal proportions. I love summer vacation when I was a lot younger though. I remember I’d go out every afternoon and play with the other kids until my mom had to drag me and my younger brother inside the house. As a teen, I'd take the BMX bike feeling totally rad and just circle several blocks under the sun making me more "negra" than I already was. I don’t think my nephews can ever experience that and I feel bad how they’re missing out a lot on the best moments of their childhood.

I say it without exaggeration that I wake in the morning sweating and it gets worse between 10 AM to 4 PM. I avoid lunch outs lately because when I step out of my office building, I feel like I’m standing on a giant induction cooktop. Really, walking under an umbrella is no use when it’s the ground you’re stepping on is what’s actually hot. The sudden shift from cold to hot would often leave me with a throbbing headache and stiff neck, which would then lead to dizzy spells and even loss of appetite. When I get home and crash in bed, it feels like I'm lying in a still-warm ironing board. I would want to turn on the TV and relax, but my bedroom window is facing West. And there—in all its freakin' solar glory—is the sun mocking me as if saying: "You can't lie down in your fat, lazy ass. Not just yet."

Am I being given a preview this early on how it’ll be in hell?

I’m lucky to be inside the office during the warmest hours of the day, taking advantage of the centralized AC in full-blast. But I worry more about the people at home — having an almost octogenarian mom and two hyperactive kids. It’s no help that a friend’s mom died of a heatstroke a couple of years ago and it came without warning. We do have air conditioners installed but they don’t do shitz as I'd feel the increase in our monthly electric bill more than whatever comes out of the AC. Then again, I’d rather pay an exorbitant electrical bill than going bankrupt due to hospital bills if anyone of us ever gets sick.

Weekends, while I still look forward to it, is not as much fun as before because of the heatwave. To cool off I would go to the mall and walk aimlessly for hours. I’d usually bump into familiar faces who would ask me: “Sino’ng kasama mo?” to which I’d answer, “Ako lang. Lakad-lakad lang. Ang init sa bahay!”. I'm sure they're there because of the very same reason.

But staying in the mall can be tiring. And expensive. The commute is already an agony, and when I'm there, I almost always end up impulse buying all sorts of stuff. Last weekend I empty the remaining money in my ATM just because I don’t seem to run out of things to buy. Dang. If the weather isn’t as hot as it is now, I could have just stayed home, do an Avengers marathon, or read this new book I bought during the NBS Warehouse sale (80% off, baby!), munch a big bag of Snacku and a bottle of Sprite, sleep all day — anything! Just not 4K poorer by the end of the weekend.

Yes. I blame the weather for that too just because I can.

PAGASA said this weather can go on until June. Having a grand total of zero when it comes to beach plans this season, only means there's no escape and I'm to feel (and most likely suffer) the summer of 2019.

All too real

I envy people who claim that they don't feel their age. I wish I have such physical, emotional and mental strength to feel the same.

I’m pushing 43 this year, and even if I take it as a blessing and continue to say (defensively — sometimes) that age is merely a number, who am I kidding? I’m starting to feel it now more than ever. Being single in my forties is an even more confusing state to be in as I don’t seem to fit anywhere. I can’t be with the people my age as most are married with kids and I can’t be in the company of the younger ones because generation gap is starting to get in the way.

When you spend most of your days in a workplace full of twenty- and thirtysomethings, you can’t help but feel ancient no matter how young-at-heart you think you are. Like, I’m okay eating with my officemates during lunch (I appreciate it when they call me to join them or even save a space for me) but there are times I prefer just eating alone. I mean, what can I contribute in a conversation about KPop and Mobile Legends, right?

I also became pretty much a loner. Sometimes an entire shift would go by without me ever talking just because that’s how I want my day to be: Quiet. Uninterrupted. I don't wanna be bothered. I know people might see this as me being moody and even a stuck-up but it isn’t. It's just how it is. While I can easily quash the misconceptions about me, I don’t want to keep explaining why I behave in such a way especially when I know they won't fully understand.

I always wondered why old people are grumpy, now I’m starting to understand why. When I hit my late thirties, there are certain things that changed about me. I absolutely have zero tolerance for senseless chit-chat that I do get annoyed when I have a noisy co-worker. I also don’t enjoy participating in gossip as much anymore. Stereotype titas like chismis, right? Not me. If someone’s passing one to me, I don’t pass it any further. I end it with “talaga?” and move on. I just don’t wanna get involved with other people's business. I have enough drama of my own.

While I was brought up to be respectful of people regardless of social standing, I noticed how I now easily get irritated at slow service crew, at a condescending saleslady or an unreliable customer service rep. I don’t go on a rage, but I make sure I speak my mind with no hesitation. Like recently at a mall, I waited in long line to pay in the cashier and when it got to my turn, the computer terminal suddenly malfunctioned. The saleslady apologized to the people behind me and asked if they can transfer to another counter. After a few minutes and realizing that they cannot make the computer to work, they eventually asked me to transfer as well. That very instant, I felt my eyebrow going up and told them in an irritated voice that I won’t go back to the end of the line again. Realizing I will have none of it, one of the salesladies accompanied me to another counter and she was the one who stood in line for me. I mean, years ago I would have just gone to the next counter.

My work ethic has never been as good. I make sure I just don’t do my job, I see to it that I do it well. I don't remember being as mature and disciplined before with my past jobs. Perhaps in time I have learned the value of work and tenure that I certainly wouldn't want to look for another job and go back to square one if I muck things up.

And then there’s that bitter truth of it all: My own body is telling me that I'm getting old. I now have things like presbyopia and cervical kyphosis — both are manifestations that I’m putting mileage on. Not a day in a month would pass without me having sort of neck or backache. Even the balls and the heels of my feet still hurt for wearing stilettos months ago.

My cervical kyphosis as seen on X-ray 

I now watch what I eat. Avoided sodas as much as I could and always make it a point to add veggies to my diet. Hydrate. Meditate. After all, news of people passing right around the same age as me has been such a wake-up call. I have one schoolmate and a friend who died recently, one from a kidney failure and the other of an aneurysm. I know 40 is not young, but it's definitely not old either. If you die around my age, it’s still going too soon.

My interests narrowed down as well. There are a lot of things I was obsessed with 15 years ago that I don’t even think much about now. Ex-boyfriends and former crushes included. Sleep has become a luxury, that I would choose staying in bed all day than go partying or shopping.

If there’s one thing I’m thankful for is the fact that I think — I THINK — I don’t look the part just yet. Imagine if looking in the mirror would remind me every time that I'm in my mid-life. God bless my genes because even at extreme close-up, I don’t see any age spots or wrinkles, except for the heavy set of eyebags that I will have forever because of my mild exophthalmos. Sure, there’s my fluffy cheeks and I don’t look forward to it sagging in twenty years, but I am still okay (I mean my boobs are still perky for one, hahaha!). I can still get away wearing a cropped statement top and a skirt without looking like I am trying too hard. So the question now is, how long will it be till my age start to register on my looks? I don't wanna think about that yet.

I am getting old. I feel it and it’s all too real.

Someone’s back.

Hi. Again.

I’m back blogging — jump-started by a writing workshop I went to a couple of Sundays ago. The two-hour session with the editor/author Pam Pastor, someone I looked up to for the longest time as she was once a blogger too, rekindled probably the only pursuit I’ve ever been passionate about.

#YellowCabSoWorthIt Writing Workshop

I likened it to coming back after a frontal lobotomy because I am trying to relearn everything from HTML codes to widgets. I only hope that the frustration that is now building up as I am going over on the basics of blogging won’t make me quit it again. Gee, I certainly don’t have the patience of my twentysomething-blogger-self anymore.

People who read my blog from way back asked me why I stopped. To tell you the truth, it was simply burnout; I got exhausted from it all. I could say I got awfully boring, and my routine has become such a clockwork that I have no more time and energy to wait for my old laptop to boot (which can take forever), even more so compose a post. Since I hit my late thirties, all I want is to sleep when I get home.

I also got tired of being constantly careful and making sure that what I write wouldn’t offend anybody. There had been times when my words were taken out of context that it even embroiled me in sticky situations and disagreements both personally and professionally.

In the past four to five years, political correctness had become so customary that expressing one’s view got tricky. In the end, it turned me off from blogging because so many things became inappropriate to say as everybody gets offended about something. We're in the Snowflake generation, some said, that we had to “tread carefully”.

Then there were the trolls. If I can’t stress this enough, the word “troll” for me back in the day were those ‘90s plastic dolls with colorful hair. Now it’s a nasty person who does nothing but attack and offend. Think of how ugly the internet has become that troll has even evolved into a verb (as in trolling).

In my early years of blogging and I see a nasty comment on my blog, it’s highly likely that it’s from someone who hates me just because. They used the teeny comment box to tell me what they can’t say to my face without the risk of getting punched. There was a time I got a comment that I looked like an arinola (Tagalog for chamber pot) and how my blog’s the “worst blog ever”. It’s easy to guess that the comment was from someone who I know or knows me, as the attack was too personal and had nothing to do with my post. Even so, I can shrug all of that off.

But later on, seeing comments attacking me on my beliefs, values and how I view things had gotten so many that I had no choice but to moderate the comments section. There were comments telling me how my post offended them, when it wasn't even my intention at all. I usually write about what goes on in my day and if I happen to express my views then it's purely accidental and in no way meant to sway others. I never claim to be the sole proprietor of truth. I never said I'm always right. It’s one thing to be criticized on how I looked or how I write; it’s a different story if it’s on how I should live my life.

Another reason why I stopped is the utter horror of realizing how I exposed myself out there. If there’s one thing I regret and would probably smack my old self for is how I overshared. Oh my God, backreading my old posts from the early 2000s made my skin crawl for TMI. You can Google who I dated in 2008 and it’s there — albeit hidden in some tacky code name, but it’s there for everyone to see, kadiri. There’s also that slight cringe seeing the pictures I post before, looking like the very people Pres. Duterte vowed to eradicate on his war on drugs. LOL.

I have learned a tough lesson on oversharing. Now, my Twitter and Instagram had gone private and my old blog is archived. I have also adjusted some of the settings on my Facebook account, so I control what is shared. While I’ll make this blog public, I will refrain from naming names (even mine, my company, etc.) and sharing the really personal stuff such as relationships and the like.

I tried coming back a couple of years ago with another blog from Wordpress but I wasn’t able to sustain it as I initially intended it to be a blog mainly about my feelings. Let's be honest here, no one wants to read about the mere verbalization of my emotions. You can’t expect people, even my most loyal of readers, to subscribe to my everyday drama. Frankly, it got so toxic even for me.

You’ll be surprised to know that most people just love reading about the light and witty stuff like my commuter stories or a funny encounter I had inside an elevator. I guess that’s also where I am good at: Free-form, pantster-writing.

I don’t regret meeting the people through my old blog though. If for anything, it is and will always be the best part of my blogging journey. It blows me away to know that I have readers from other countries and while I have never met any of them in person, I will always be profoundly grateful.

When some of them learned that I attended a writing workshop recently, they messaged me telling me to blog again like they're actually excited about a comeback. It made me think that perhaps, in all those years of blog-writing, I somewhat connected with them on a deeper level. That maybe, just maybe, I am more likable and relatable through my writing.

Some had been made aware of my knack for writing because of my old blog. In the office, I have been the “go-to” person when they needed a write-up or an article for the intranet site. Although my writing still needs a lot of improvement and practice — methinks, it makes me somewhat proud that I have such skill. Even as a young girl, I’ve always been good in expressing my thoughts into words, anyway. Better than what my face and my mouth could ever say.

Mommy was quite happy when I told her about the writing workshop. She said I shouldn't have let other people stop me from doing what I love to do. Mommy said so as if writing is my calling and that I was a Pulitzer-prize winner. If that isn't enough to get out of my writer's funk, I don't know what else will.

So here I am.