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.