Remembering my salad days

Watching “13 Going On 30” last night gave me the feels. I’ve watched it a bunch of times and unlike me, that movie never gets old. I still find it funny, warm and charming. (Let us not forget the fantastic soundtrack—I have been LSS-ing on Madonna’s “Crazy For You” since this morning).

Skip this post if you have heard or read about this before—but my teenage years were probably the least favorite time of my life. Puberty hit me like a ton of bricks. I was awkward, clumsy and unattractive. I can lay claim that I have the longest ugly phase in the history of ugly phases. It was agonizing and depressing. While girls my age were already blooming and enjoying a myriad of admirers, I was gauche, scrawny, dark-skinned and buck-toothed.

Attending high school in an all-girls Catholic institution was particularly unforgiving as I was surrounded every day by a lot of beautiful schoolmates who seem oblivious that there exists a twilight zone-level of awkwardness. It was no secret how I didn’t fit in and was sometimes bullied because of how I looked. Boys wanted nothing to do with me as they fancy a certain type of girls—the kind that I’d never ever be. For one, I have no breasts—and my gangly frame was always the subject of a cruel joke.

Just like in the movie, I wanted desperately to be a part of a popular clique in school, but I wasn’t pretty enough—or not at all—to be one of them. Undeterred, I offered to make their projects and homework or do favors, almost subservient, but even that wasn’t enough to get me a chance to even “sit with them”.

Some teachers also made my life a living hell so to speak, as this was not yet the age of political correctness and appropriateness. Imagine being told by my P.E. teacher that I can’t join the singkil dance because “para sa maganda lang 'yun.” (only for the beautiful). OK—granted that there’s truth to what she said, but the fact that she did it so bluntly was just wrong and hurtful. I bet if it happened now, that teacher would have faced serious disciplinary action.

At least I met like-minded friends in my senior year and it made my last year in high school bearable because otherwise, it would have been awful.

And so what I lacked in sex appeal and grace, I tried compensating with my other skills such as writing, or my ability to know a lot of film, music and general trivia, or the fact that I chose a sport that wasn’t physical or strenuous, and actually excelled on it.

Overall though, those years for me practically sucked. My self-esteem was very low and I found myself resenting a lot of things. Somehow my personality mirrored the ugliness I felt, as I became aloof, unsociable and petulant if only to protect me from further abuse and rejection.

***

I may not have turned into a swan, but when I got in a Co-Ed college, things have changed. I can’t pinpoint what it was but the guys started noticing me. I was still skinny, awkward and insecure, but maybe some of my physical features improved slightly, and I somewhat acquired grace and poise that I began to receive attention from the opposite sex.

Suddenly, I have an admirer in every class (no joke) and I supposed it wasn’t because I got attractive and went through some fantastic physical transformation, but because I was the brainy and well-behaved girl in class. Even so, the experience was so new to me that I don’t even know how to react to the attention. All my teen years I was so used to being invisible and just merely existing and now guys are taking notice.

I remember this basketball varsity player who brought a camera to our English class because he wanted to take a picture of me (take note that this was long before the time of digital cameras and smartphones). He didn’t approach me for he was too shy, that his friends had to ask our teacher for permission to take my picture.

I was like—ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?! They wanted me to pose for a picture in front of the whole class? I remember how embarrassed I was especially when the teacher joined in the teasing. Naturally, I turned the request down and said I will just give him a picture, which I don’t think I ever did.

Then there’s the volleyball varsity player (oh yeah, jocks looooove me) who sings the chorus of this song every time he sees me around. And I mean EVERY.SINGLE.TIME. It doesn’t matter if I was at the second floor of the building and he’s down the school quadrangle, or if I was sitting in my class and he’s passing by the corridor, I would suddenly hear him singing the lines serenading me. God, it was crazy.

Then there are guys who are just extremely shy, like this one in my History class, who, even if the entire class knew how much he liked me (he told everyone but me)—wouldn’t even talk to me! The most he did the entire semester was to stare. When I catch him looking, he’d look away.

Guys are weird like that.

*** 

The movie also tells us that sometimes, the popular boys don’t always end up the ones we like when we get older. If you’ve seen the movie, there’s this part where Jenna (Garner) saw the school’s heartthrob and prom king, Chris Grandy, now a cab driver. Now, while there’s nothing wrong ending up a cab driver, it only shows that sometimes the guys we really like while growing up, wouldn’t turn out to be the guy we want.

So much like my long-time college crush for instance.

It was the first day of my first class in my freshman years when I saw him enter the classroom. You know how it is in movies where the scene goes into slow-mo and the camera pans to the face of the admirer gaping? That’s exactly what happened. He was dreamy and so good-looking almost a dead ringer for a ‘90s Onemig Bondoc. He’s the kind that could pass for a teen actor back in the day.

Deep inside I was screaming: “Oh shit, I am so going to enjoy this class very much!”, not knowing that we will be in the same class on most of our subjects.

Well, aside from sharing the same classes (we have the same course), nothing happened all those four years except how he accidentally found out through a friend that I had this huge crush on him. While he didn’t act on it, I know he enjoyed it and probably bragged it to his fraternity brothers. A Dean’s Lister crushing on the underachiever who had no interest in school? Straight out of an unmade John Hughes movie, right? Whether he admits it or not, he took pleasure on that.

Many years after, we crossed paths again and don’t ask me what the heck happened but he became my boyfriend. I have to admit that I was thrilled at first as this was the guy I was crushing on all those years. He’s the reason why even if there were other guys interested in me at the time, nothing took off because it was him I liked and was waiting for.

It was only when he was already my boyfriend that I realized he’s not the guy for me. There was so much about him that turned me off and times when I can’t even stand him. I may have been attracted to him as he was good-looking, but take that away we have nothing in common. I realized I wasted the best years of my life waiting for him and when I had him, he wasn't half the man I envisioned him to be.

***

Which brings me now to my Matt Flamhaff, the not-so-popular guy who stuck with me all those years: My best guy friend.

As he’s now happily married and with kids, I’d rather not name or even describe him except by saying that he’s probably one of those guys, who never became my boyfriend, that truly loved me warts and all.

He’s the “buddy” who was there to accompany and fetch me to school, hangs-out the house for hours he almost became a fixture. The very few who have put up with me and all my insecurities, stubbornness, and immaturity.

He’s someone unfortunate enough to be in the line of fire during the worst of my mood swings. I can be myself around him knowing I’d never get judged for it. To put it simply, he just likes me for me.

Like Matt and Jenna in the film, doing things with my best boy bud no matter how laid-back, was lots of fun. Sure, we never shared Razzles but we had our own good times together. The best times for me will always be how he stays up really late at our house with us just talking about bands, crushes, tsismis, pop culture, music videos, etc. I always like that he’s very down-to-earth, funny, smart, loyal and kind.

Even if we knew then that we love each other very much, a love with no commitment and intimacy, we are conscious of where we stand. Even if we have a strong emotional bond and genuine feelings for each other, it wasn’t meant to be more than friends. None of us crossed the line.

Without explanation or recourse, we kinda grew apart. He went his way and I went mine. He had relationships and I had mine. For a while, we tried going back to the way we were but something was pulling us farther apart. Besides, there were already other people in the equation unlike before when there’s just the two of us. Life happened, I guess. No arguments or drama, it just fizzled out.

Even so, my time with my own Matt Flamhaff was real, pure, uncomplicated and beautiful.

*** 

And just like that, I will be turning 43 by December. While always thankful for every birthday, it’s totally different from adding years in your thirties. So many thoughts are creeping in, mostly about getting old and how you are getting closer and closer to the fifties.

My salad days may have been chewed away eons ago but memories of it, both the good and bad, are still worth remembering. After all, the lessons learned from it were priceless.

I survived. I thrived. 

Report This.

In the last three or four years, I made it a point to maintain a low-profile and became somewhat unforthcoming when in the office. I try as much not to draw any unwanted attention to myself in any way. If I could go a day unnoticed, I’d actually prefer that.

I don’t participate in petty cubicle fights or engage in juicy gossips simply because I don’t want to get involved. I go to work and clock out not a minute over 3PM—with little or almost no interaction with other people. Almost always I also keep my thoughts to myself, especially my frustrations and annoyances. Call it midlife whims if you want.

Back then I have an active and very public social media accounts. I was very outspoken; I say what’s on my mind just how I’d say it IRL. It got me in trouble many times, as some people made a big deal out of it like I am the only one who has ever ranted or posted my thoughts online.

Even some of my harmless puns became an issue. There was this one time I tweeted about how—I humorously said—while giving an exam to an Arab-speaking applicant, found myself humming the Cure song “Killing an Arab”. Obviously, I was trying to be funny, and anyone with intellectual acuity won’t interpret it as me wanting to murder the applicant.

Before I know it, someone screengrabbed that tweet and sent it to Human Resources.

So yeah, I’ve learned my lesson. I’ve learned that some people will not get my humor and dry wit because they’re either stupid or probably just too young for my pop culture references. I’ve learned that just like lovelife, exes and family squabbles, I shouldn’t be discussing anything that’s work-related online.

I’ve learned to quit ranting in public not only because nobody actually cares about what I feel, but more because there are lurkers who are just waiting for me to make a mistake.

I stopped posting unhinged rants and avoided sharing political and personal views on Facebook because there will always be one or two likely to be offended by it.

Besides, my family is on Facebook, so go figure.

I have archived my old blog, where I was once raw, brutally honest, candid and unfiltered because some people advised that I tone it down just so I won’t get scrutinized.

I noticed how I hardly talk about people in this blog. If I do, I don’t even name names. Do you know how hard it is to make a narrative and not even mention the name of the person who is the subject of my narrative? But I adjusted. I adjusted for those who are so dull-witted that I must self-calibrate. It took me a lot not to write about my thoughts for my own self-preservation.

But hell, my Twitter account is MINE. It is the only medium where I could blow off steam. 

Twitter is where I rant, curse, spew expletives, lambaste and share my most mundane to my most profound of thoughts. It is where I don’t have to sift my words and would express it as it is. It is where I could say something with no reservations. If not for Twitter, I might not be able to prevent an actual meltdown, which is ain’t pretty (ask anyone who saw me get really angry).

This is the very reason why my Twitter account is private as I am aware that my “realness” isn’t for everyone.

I have trimmed down my followers to the ones I trust (while the rest are mostly inactive and tweeps who give zero fucks). I have not added any supervisors or bosses for obvious reasons. Among my social media accounts, it’s the one I have a very small following because I chose it that way. It is where I can put my guard down because if I say something there—it is not to demean and destroy, but more just to get the load off my chest.

Now if one screenshots a tweet from a private account and deem it “inappropriate” and sends it to other people—isn’t that being fucking ironic?

We have social media accounts, and yes—like it or not, we do talk about a lot of things at times including work. But also consider that the owner of the account has already done everything to remain responsible by restricting her tweets hopefully to control who can see the content.

If one went as far as getting a screenshot and then sending it to another person and then self-righteously stating that the tweet is “inappropriate”—then how about the fact that you didn’t respect the privacy of my account? It is not publicly-available and it cannot be viewed by anyone enough to say that it is potentially harmful to whoever or whatever.

Don’t start telling me how a private tweet can ruin someone, when other people outside my Twitter followers won’t even know about it if you haven’t spread it complete with screenshot to boot. If people talk about it, it’s not me who caused tongues to wag. 

I have less than 10 people following me on Twitter who works in the same company which I now all removed because I don’t know who to trust anymore.

Yeah, I guess I was so trusting and complacent for posting a satirical tweet without realizing that someone in my list can use it against me.

So I say this: You who have lots of time in your hands to screenshot my tweet 49 minutes after it was posted and sent it to whoever—think long and hard if what you did is right and if your intentions were good.

You were in my followers list for a reason (or maybe at least for that I was to blame because I trusted you). I post random tweets and occasional rants without even naming the person involved because I was confident that people who read it—being that I choose who I allow to follow me—will know how to take it. Again, obviously, that didn't apply to you. 

You know very well that disclosing a private tweet, which by the way contains no threat or anything that can be considered harmful or derogatory to anyone, other than putting me in a negative light, is the real issue here.

Before you even start believing that you did the right thing, examine your intent. 

Fleeting.

Last weekend, a former colleague died of breast cancer. She was 28.

For days, a friend had been calling out for help and prayers on Facebook for her as she’d been battling Stage IV cancer with bone metastasis. Sadly, J lost her battle Saturday morning.

I don’t know her personally or even recognize her from her pictures, but we have common friends. People who knew her said she was once vibrant and full of life before she got diagnosed with the Big C in May of 2018.

I believe them. Seeing J’s travel pictures in contrast to the pictures of her lying in her hospital bed was just too hard to look at. The decline in such a short period of time is unfathomable you won’t even think you’re looking at the same person. But I guess that’s what any disease—especially cancer, does to anyone.

My heart sank when I think of all her hopes and dreams that will never be realized. I feel for the family and friends she left behind who would miss her terribly. While things happen for a reason and some can even say that at least J’s not feeling any pain anymore, her loss is never easy for those who loved her. I understand why they mourn; why they said it’s unfair; why a friend even questioned God for allowing it to happen.

We always hear that life is short but for some, it’s even much shorter. Too soon. J didn’t even reach thirty when I’m sure she had thought of what she’d do when she gets to that age. Perhaps she would have wanted to travel more or settle down and have kids.

Then again, if God wills it, who are we to fight the One who gave life to us?

I just imagined if I died at 28, I would’ve missed out fifteen years of lessons from my experiences; or that chance to fall in love again after Alex; of meeting people who I now consider my best friends for life; or even seeing my wonderful nephews. I wouldn’t get to feel the warmth of the sun, the cool wind, and chill from the rain. I won’t get to see the beauty of the world around me.

But because God wills it that I wake up every morning, I still can feel, enjoy, laugh, think, write, sing, dance and love. Some weren’t as lucky.

  
Life, in general, can be hard on me at times but I’m still here. And while no one really knows when their time is going to be up, I thank God for my every day.

Oh, baby.

I’m not really in my usual mojo to write anything today, being that it’s the dreaded “time of the month” for me again.

So I’m just gonna put this here.

…because I’m always in the mood for this guy. PMS-ing or not.

(P.S. I sooo want him to hug me like how he hugged Elizabeth after that scare prank)

Happy Friday, y'all!

Waterlooneys

Our City Government is currently having extensive road clearing operations. Last week, the clearing team was in our area demolishing illegal structures and anything that extends to the road are being removed. Even our small tree right by the gate that provided shade was not spared and had to be chopped off.

The road clearing also targeted water hand pumps that were haphazardly installed right by the sidewalk.

In our neighborhood, it’s no secret that basic utilities like water and electricity are acquired by some illegally. Not judging, but pilferage of electricity and water has become a way of life for most of them. For illegal water connections alone, many were already blacklisted by the local water service provider because of previous offenses.

One of the water pumps was recently removed; it’s still not clear where the local barangay intends to move it but this resulted in some household in our area with no access to water.

One family in particular, which is just right across the street, asked us if they could fetch some water. My mother, God bless her heart—sees no problem in giving some, to the point that she even installed an extra faucet right by the porch.

She had been warned by some relatives, and even by my older brother, that the neighbor might abuse this, but my mom said that she couldn’t turn down a person in need—especially if it’s for something as basic as water.

Yesterday morning, I found my mom shaking and on the verge of tears. When we asked why, she said that on the first day alone, the neighbor had filled up more than fifteen 5-gallon water containers using our water line.

Mom knew she agreed to it, but only because she thought that the neighbor will only be getting water to drink. She didn’t realize that they will eventually fetch water for four families living in one house many times a day! It’s my mom who pays the monthly water bill so she has cause to panic and all the reason to be upset.

Adding to that, the neighbors would leave the whole porch flooded.

We are expecting tension between our families once we put our foot down but we can’t just allow the moochers to go on. We already told mom to turn off the main knob so there will be no water flowing to that faucet. It’s a drastic move, I know, but we don’t want to be slapped with a high water bill.

We were also hoping that with it, the neighbor will get that cue and hopefully make them realize that generosity has boundaries.

My mother, specifically, raised us to be good neighbors because she always says we’ll never know when it’ll be our turn to need something. But goodwill should have its limitations.

It still shocks me as to how some people can take advantage of another’s kindness and genuine generosity just like that.

Touch of the Heavens!

Happy Birthday to the greatest performer to ever walked the earth.

You would have been 73 today. I’m sure if you’re still here, you’d be one hysterical septuagenarian queen.

Queen Live at Wembley '86

What is so wrong with contentment?

Why does using the word content to describe an aspect of one’s life so frowned upon these days? Does contentment really limit one’s true purpose?

Compared to most people my age who’ve probably earned enough money to do what they want to do and at the same time assure them of a comfortable life in their retirement years, I’m still getting there.

I have a steady eight-hour job five days a week—a blessing I’m always thankful for. While sometimes it can be quite monotonous and regimented, I want to continue working for as long as I could.

A lot of people I know don’t share the same view. I have a friend who wants to retire by the time she reaches 40 and would hate to see herself still working in her fifties.

I, on the other hand, believe that early retirement could be bad for one’s health. I read somewhere that it will increase the likelihood of developing physical disorders by approximately 60%. My 60-day Magna Carta leave last year proved this for me. I got listless and bored, having a general feeling of discomfort and uneasiness in my body that it came to a point when I can no longer wait to come back to work.

I also have friends who say that one will not get rich for having a job as it’s not financially-fulfilling. They instead humblebrag about their investments such as life insurance, networking, stocks, hybrid marketing, cryptocurrency, etc. and hinting that they are earning a lot of money from it.

At times, they will try to sign you up with a promise of big returns but when you politely turn them down, they will shrewdly insult you by saying you’ve got no goals in life and that you’re already contented with just being a salaried employee.

Is there no dignity being just an employee now?

Like how I always—ALWAYS—get asked why I don’t apply for a managerial position. When I tell them that I’m already happy and contented in my current role, they’d give me a shrug and a disappointed look like I got no ambitions at all.

“You have to get out of your comfort zone!”

“Ano, ganyan ka na lang? You can do more!” 

“Hindi ka ba nabo-bother na `yung former trainee mo eh Team Manager na ngayon?” 

“Fixed mindset ka kasi e.” 

Why is contentment viewed so negatively? Why can’t they understand that we have different motivations and priorities in life? I mean, I’d get it if they hear me whine and complain all the time, but they can clearly see that I enjoy my steady work-life balance, that I have a fixed morning schedule with weekends off and I don’t have to deal with difficult bosses and direct reports with varying attitudes and temperament.

If the meaning of success for them is getting promoted or having so much money, success for me is just having that sense of normalcy when it comes to everyday activities and family/personal life. If, say, accepting a higher position would only leave me sleepless, pressured and stressed out of my wits every waking hour, then I don’t want it.

And it’s not just about work—why does expressing contentment on everything else like relationships, material possessions, way of life, etc. is mistaken for lack of passion?

In the age of YOLO, with some interpreting it that because “you only live once” then you must set as many goals you can and try to achieve it all, anything other than that would be settling for mediocrity.

Social media made us compare our lives with other people. We get obsessed with appearances, our general public image, and other people’s validation. No wonder a lot of people, especially the youth, get depressed and develop low self-esteem because of this.

I just hope these people understand that I am at peace with my choices. That in general, my life is good. I may not have achieved exceptional things, I may not have millions in my bank account, I may still be single—but I’m happy. I have accepted the fact that there are some things I could have and things that I couldn’t. I no longer fret or envy what other people have that I don’t.

Because I know one thing: If I happen to lack some things, I’m pretty sure that there is an aspect in my life that can make me consider myself rich.

Contentment and merely settling is not the same thing. Being content is being satisfied, happy and fulfilled within. Contentment is not being stagnant; it’s not settling for an unremarkable existence. It’s not being complacent and lazy but it’s actually gaining more perspective other than just being covetous. Settling on something is just taking what was there because you’ve got no choice.

Contentment is more of accepting what I am and what I have and learning to work around it.