Oldie but Goody

Photo by Daphné Richard on Unsplash

Thank God for my gene pool because even if I’ll be turning 47 this December, I still don’t look like someone my age. That is not to say that I only look like I’m in my 20s either because I don’t. 

The forties are creeping in, more conspicuous than ever before. I just had my hair bleached today because grey hairs are peeking faster these days (my first time to ever bleach my hair and I botched it, BTW). 

While I can’t be considered “chubby”, I’m slightly paunchy. It became easier to keep the weight rather than lose it. Meanwhile, my double chin occupies about 30% of my face and no amount of contouring can hide it anymore.  It looked like Bibendum is on my face, which is what keeps me from taking close-up selfies lately because it shows no matter the angle. Barbie arms and collar bones are a thing of the past and I am only reminded that I had those once-upon-a-time looking at my old pictures.

Filling out online forms can be quite a slap in the face because I had to scroll all the way down when looking for my birth year which is 1976. It kinda reminds me of that Big Wheel on “The Price is Right”.

I was part of the last batch of Gen Xers so I well remember the analog world. When I tell younglings that I submitted typewritten term papers in high school and had taken typing and stenography subjects back in the day, they incredulously look at me as if I’m a Martian. Everything I know about Microsoft Word and Excel is all self-taught because my computer subjects then were MS-DOS and WordPerfect. Then again, it’s no surprise that we are tech-savvy in spite of, as Gen Xers are known to be resourceful and self-sufficient.

Mention “Post Malone” and I’d go, “Who?!”—which is very much like that old tita you know before who said the same thing in the very same tone when you talk about Chumbawamba. I no longer appreciate the songs that the younger people are into now, even if it’s a Taylor Swift song (Oh boy, I’ll get a lot of flak for this), for I simply just can’t relate to it anymore. I can be inside an elevator with a famous Korean or KPop celebrity, and I wouldn’t even know. The only reason why I know of things these days is from watching Tiktok and from my Gen Z nephews who school me when it comes to what’s cool and current.

Picture this: If the movie “Back to the Future” was made today and Marty McFly goes back 30 years, that will be the year 1993. Marty will be seeing me there as a high school senior. If my late boyfriend Alex slip by the pearly gates and was born again on the same year he died, he is now a 21-year-old young man (“Chances Are” reference there). I may not realize the passing of time as it happens, but when I think about it, it’s just mind-blowing. The years from 2010 onward went by so quickly like a flipping Rolodex.

I’m way past getting drunk and meeting people in bars because I prefer dining alone or with my closest friends. 9 PM is rather late for me and you can’t drag me anywhere since it became my official curfew. Regular Friday nights are spent in bed snacking on Coke and chips while watching shows on the Crime Investigation Network.

Dating has become much more difficult, for I’m no longer as interested in meeting men (except if you look like Luka Dončić then let’s talk). With my life experience, I have acquired a superpower: I can now see through men’s bullshit. Meanwhile, the very few who expressed interest and were persistent enough must really like me, because why would they even put up with a forty-year-old when there are much younger, prettier women around? So yes, I may be seeing somebody now who likes me, but we’re just chill ♡. These days it’s all about enjoying each other’s company because relationships are already hard as they come.

I no longer have the energy—and I don’t mean energy for doing chores, going out etc.,—but the energy to deal with other people’s negativity. I try to avoid them like the plague. But yes, I can be physically tired doing nothing, which can be very strange. 

I became very dependent on my reading glasses as I can’t see anything close to my nose without it. I started noticing my failing eyesight when I hit forty and it got worse in just a couple of years. Even looking at computer screen now, which is already about two feet away, is already blurrier too.

Don't get me started about the body pains. I can go on and on talking about it on a separate post. Just the past week, I woke up with a very painful groin pain on the left side. The good news is that I don’t think it’s anything serious, but more like muscle strain. For days I can’t do the sukhasana (Indian sit) or squat on the toilet bowl. Back pains are a common occurrence too that I got used to it. Every night I reek of Tiger Balm and I have Poy-Sian within reach. When I get up from bed in the morning, my bone creaks like an old floorboard.

My freaking body is telling me I’m not young anymore. Doctor visits are getting to be more frequent, whether it’s for my pre-existing illnesses or something new like plantar fasciitis.

In the blink of an eye, my nephews are no longer babies anymore. I will not be surprised if I wake up tomorrow and both are taller than me. What’s more sad to think is that in a few year’s time, I won’t be as cool to them as I am now.

I see some of my former classmates are already sending their kids off to college. While I’ve stopped comparing my life to those of my contemporaries knowing we lead different lives, it seems automatic to me already to compute for the year when their kid was born and think what I was doing that very same year. 

I can’t even say I’m “getting old” for I’m at that point already. I never dread celebrating my birthdays until I reached 45. That’s when everything sinks in. The pandemic may have contributed to my mixed feelings about aging, but it’s also the fact that I can no longer deny my actual age. It was when I stopped feeling young. Humbled by this realization, there was that acceptance that I’m already past my prime. Very sobering. 

Getting underhanded comments about my age didn’t help, but I’ve learned to just ignore it. Sometimes I would tell them that it’s a relief to reach this age, because I know for a fact that I won’t be around when this world has gone to the dogs with all the craziness we see in the society now. 

Then again, I will never be less grateful for the gift of years. Just recently, a female grade school classmate suddenly died of stroke. I mean, they say no one dies before their time, but at 46? When that happens you tend to think of your own mortality when people your age (or younger) dies. When you are faced with that reality you learn to be more thankful despite of. 

I’m old, I know, but it’s okay. The good things about aging still outweigh the bad. Besides, all of us are heading there anyway so I might as well enjoy the roller-coaster ride.

I Just Want To Eat in Peace

This happened many months ago. I’ve just been to the nearby drugstore and had some spare change enough to buy me a chicken meal at Mang Inasal.

It was around the off-peak hours of the day, so the place wasn’t as packed and there were many vacant seats. After ordering, I sat on a table at the back with wide windows facing a not-so-busy street. I thought that since I’m far from the entrance and the counter, no one will bother me there.

While waiting for my order, I was approached by a well-dressed man carrying eco bags and offered me pastillas and other sweets.

I usually don’t buy from vendors who approach you inside fast-food restaurants and food courts. Not only that I find this rather annoying (usually they even join you at your table), but also because I know for a fact that most of these vendors are handled by syndicates. They sell everything from candies to ballpens and are usually priced higher. I was once duped by a teenage boy selling three generic pens with pull-out calendars for 100 pesos. He said he’s doing this because he’s supporting himself in school. When I got home, two of the pens are no good. 

Since then when approached by these peddlers I usually shake my head and politely decline, hoping that would be enough for them to go away.

So, this is exactly what I did to the man. I think I even said, “Hindi po.”

“Kahit isa lang, wala pa kasi akong benta.” (Just buy one. I haven’t sold any yet.) He said.

“Pasensiya na, wala po akong extrang money na dala.” (I’m sorry but I didn’t bring extra money.) I answered.

I wasn’t lying. I remember I only brought my coin purse that day because I was only running a quick errand. So even if I wanted to, I know I won’t have enough to buy whatever it was he’s peddling.

“Kahit magkano lang.” (Any amount will do.) The man insisted, his persistence ticked me slightly.

My order came and he was still standing by my table. “Hindi po. Sorry pero wala po.” I gestured.

I think these vendors deliberately approach people who are eating because for most of us, it’s when we are at our most vulnerable. It adds to the “guilt trip”, as if telling us we’re there eating food while they are here making a living.

“Kahit bente pesos?” (Not even twenty pesos?) The vendor asked.

I shook my head.

“Kahit sampung piso?” (Not even ten pesos?) He says again.

Obviously, the man is no longer there to make a sale or ask for any donation, but more to rile me up. He was enjoying my discomfiture. I called the crew who was standing a few feet away cleaning the trays (who I think knows what’s happening and yet wasn’t doing anything). 

“Sir..." I called out to the crew, '“Please naman po. Kakain po ako eh.” I appealed to him. Still, the employee didn’t even say anything. Aren’t establishments like this have a “No Solicitation” policy?

“Kahit piso?” (Not even a peso?) The vendor continued.

Defeated, I took out a five-peso coin from my purse and tried handing it to him.

“Huwag na po. Salamat na lang.” (Never mind. Thank you.) He said, smugly.

“Kunin mo na!”  (Take it!) I said, with a hint of exasperation as I placed the coin on the table.

He dramatically pushes back the coin towards me using his index finger and snickered, “Huwag po. Salamat na lang po.” 

The peddler went to the next table where other customers were seated, and I was left there trying to make sense of what happened. After all that asking for any amount, I only gave him a chance to show me up in order to make me look like a schmuck.

And if that wasn’t enough, when the vendor was about to leave, he looked right back at me and said: “Ma’m salamat na lang ha? Salamat. Salamat.” 

Was he trying to make me feel guilty from what has transpired? Maybe. Was I pissed? Very.

People are strange. I just want to eat my chicken in peace. 

IDGAF era

Photo by rachel on Unsplash

When my brother expressed his disappointment towards a problematic relative recently (over something she said), I reminded him that we’re already at that age where we should just ignore such people and not be bothered by them. I told him it’s useless to feel bad or hurt because, almost always, feelings like resentment and rage can only lead to chronic stress.

Besides, most people are just awful.

I know this because I was once a person who believed, for the longest time, that people will treat me how I treat them. It doesn’t matter if it will take them years to realize it, I just have to wait for it.

Yup. I cared too much about what other people said or do to me. I sought their approval.

***

If there’s one regret that will always eat me when I think about it, is how I gave so much of my precious time and energy to people who don’t deserve it. I feel that I have wasted so many years of my life for them. 

I guess we’ll never realize this when we’re young thinking that we have all the years ahead to squander. What’s five years when you’re 20? What’s another ten years?

Not until age creeps up on you and you go, sh*t, I’m not young anymore. Only then do you want to kick yourself for being so damn naïve for allowing people to push you around.

***

It also didn’t help that I have the “Queen Amidala syndrome”—of seeing the good even in a rather terrible person. I was a believer in giving people who wronged me the benefit of the doubt. Allowing them to do the right thing. I was too accepting of people’s flaws. Oftentimes to a fault. 

I don't want to die believing this on some people.

Until I came to my senses and realized that five, ten, fifteen years later, the dissonance remain. I finally accepted that we can’t expect people to be what we want them to be and that most of the time, it’s our expectations that disappoint us.

That relative will always look down on us—no matter how far we’ve become from how we were. Kahit anong mabuti pa ang ipakita ko sa kanila, hindi na magbabago ang trato nila sa akin.

That man will never treat me right even if  I cry tears of blood. He will continue to gaslight me and will inundate me with fake love and affection to make up for it.

So why bother? I’m so over and done caring; now that I’m in my IDGAF era. 

You didn’t invite or include me? That’s okay.

You think I’m beneath you? That’s alright.

You are gaslighting me? Let me step away.

Frankly, I’m not hurt anymore.

***

I remember telling my mom many years ago, while she was haranguing us over something, that I will never be a nag like her.

Maybe she knew that the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, she scoffs: “Akala mo lang `yun! Tignan natin!” (“That’s what you think. We’ll see.”)

True enough, I turned out to be a nag. It’s my toxic love language because I only nag people I genuinely care for. I make sure I let my feelings known. I texted long paragraphs when I’m upset because I had to get it off my chest. I had to explain to be understood (which was funny because I just saw this Tiktok video on how long DMs from a woman are a sign of love). Of course, for the other person, they only see it as me being difficult and a nag. 

But sometimes talking and explaining too much (especially through long DMs) only made me look needy and pathetic, if nothing I said penetrates the person. I only sound like a broken record having to point out the same issues on different days. 

Not anymore. I’m in my IDGAF era. 

All I do is wrong to you? Enjoy the silence.

Keeping private things private

Photo by Luca Bravo on Unsplash

I don’t think you can be a blogger in the early noughties if you aren’t prepared to post intimate details about your relationships, friendships, family matters, and personal drama. I know I did—I overshared many times. Back then blogs became online personal diaries because none of us anticipated that internet would grow to be this far-reaching and we don’t even know how “digital footprint” would turn out to be.

Thinking of all the things I’ve posted over the years in my old blog gives me that sense of embarrassment that I now wonder what people who’ve read it must’ve been thinking at that time. I post pictures, I don’t hide names, I don’t redact information. I post when I’m upset and angry in the heat of the moment. I just write it all out. No filter. In its truest raw form. 

After realizing this faux pas, I immediately archived my old blog because it’s a buffet of TMI in there. And even when I try to be careful on this newer blog, there are times that I am still guilty of telling people too much information about my life more than I should.

I guess this is the very reason why I don’t update much on this site anymore. I don’t want to blog about every single thing that’s going on with me. Aside from the fact that my life is kinda boring compared to most people, many just don’t care anymore if I had a staycation, or if I’m seeing somebody now, or if I celebrated a family member’s birthday recently.

Surely, in recent years I have been very careful about what I put online for everyone to see. I no longer want to invite unwanted attention from people who hardly know me and who just happen to land on my site for whatever reason. It leaves people the chance to judge and criticize me just by what they see on the surface.

Not everyone who reads what you post will hope for the best. Over time you’ll realize that some people aren’t exactly there to cheer for you. Some will secretly hope for your failure to prove whatever point they have. Some will just hate their fictional versions of me—and I’m not saying this because of some perceived “main character complex”—but because this is so true. 

There were times when my posts caused misunderstandings. A lot of what I posted in the past turned out to be quite controversial for some and it had become detrimental to both my personal and professional life at times. There were even rumors that I didn’t get the promotion I was eyeing many years back just because of my online presence “noise”. 

Imagine your writings becoming some sort of ammunition against you. 

I know I might have overshared before because I wanted attention, validation and sympathy. I wanted to be relatable to people. But if there’s something I regret from the two decades of blogging is my loss of privacy. Time has taught me that pouring my feelings only made me more vulnerable. That while this is my void, I’m not totally safe out here.  

So for people who come here to check for my life update, I don’t think you can see much of it here. Let me do the updates on Twitter and IG—which I now placed on private yet again because it is only privy to the very few people who bothered to follow me there. I’m not saying every single one of them followed me with good intentions, but at least what goes on with my life now is limited to a few.