I flew for London Thursday morning. Finally. But not without complications. The Ticket money my mom sent was delayed so my relatives pitched in shares to make up the whole fare, but all the transfer centers were closed before my travel agent can even withdraw it. Fortunately, my mom and my travel agent has had a long working - and sometimes, personal - relationship, so she just payed for it herself in the meantime. I got the ticket at 8 pm Wednesday, so I had to beg my friend DJ to hang out with me at UST until then. Bribed him, actually, with Twister Fries.
My GMA boss knows I'm here in the UK. I told him while I was there last Wednesday, as he was rushing off somewhere and I figured it was the best time to tell him without getting sticky inquiries about it. It worked, fuckin genius. It's kindov became official, at last: that I will now work for GMA. I'm blogging this in the risk of jinxing it (again). But they're already expecting me Monday, so that's that.
Plane Rides** Hmm. The best thing about travelling is the people-watching you get to do at the Airport. Especially at stop-overs and the lounges look like freaking United Nations Assembly. And oh btw, Qatar Airways isn't that bad. The food is actually good. They have a selection of salads, pastas and pastries on the side, and their main course always comes with rice. Which is perfect. My only complain is their TV selection. The TV guide listed a lot of programs but all I got were 5 episodes each of How I met your Mother, The Big Bang Theory and Friends. And all of those, I've watched in the last week. AND. Plane movies are supposed to be of wide range, that's what I loved about plane rides to London the most, that I get to watch a lot of new movies, sometimes even those not shown in the Ph yet. I expected to watch the Social Network - and all they had was fuckin Eclipse. Which wasn't bad, I thought, since I wasn't paying for it and I had 14 hours to burn, why not, right? But I couldn't get through it. I changed the channel at the scene where Jacob was telling Bella about imprinting on someone (which in normal people language means falling in love.) Sorry you Twilight fans, but that's just ukgrh. They're attempting to create magic out of the words and concepts they use, but it just came off really pretentious. And in an obvious way. But they got one thing right, doesn't Jacob Black own a t-shirt? But the silver lining was - they had Grown Ups. Starring Adam Sandler. Right on the Money.
I shared the Doha-London ride with 2 foreign guys. My first guess was that they're French since their English had that exotic-nonenglish-twang, but they lined up for the Non-Eu passports queue with me. It looked like they went backpacking, maybe they still are, and their next stop is London. The cute guy was singing Taylor Swift's You belong with me, trying to prove to her newfound British friend (they met only at the Doha Airport) that he can speak good English. I eavesdropped on their conversation and found out, cute foreign guy was on a h0ok-up world tour. He was going through the list of all the girls he 'got on' with, and said the best girl, 'definitely', was China girl. He pronounced it like Chee-Na. Go Asian, right? And for all the time I was on listening range from them, they kept talking about the girls they met along the way. It made me think of Cha and how she would've loved to be in that list. Because they're both so mercilessly hot, and if I only had that kind of guts, I would've went for it just like the British girl they were all over at the airport. Imagine 7 long hours above the clouds with them - especially the China boy, the 'above the clouds' part would've turned so literal.
I arrived at Heathrow around 10 pm. My mom was already there, with, guess this - BACON WRAPS. Bacon freaking wraps to welcome me. I'm telling you, my mom, for all the things she's clueless at, that, she got perfectly. We took the Picadilly Line to Southgate, where Nigel (my stepdad) picked us up. It's 13 degrees here, so it's really not that bad. And from that sweltering, suicidial summer in Manila, this is a very welcome change.
My mom went to work for an early shift, but she should be getting home soon. Because it's such a 'nice weather' (meaning, it's not raining BOOYEAH), she suggested we visit University of Hertfordshire and ask around for my application. Which, I remember, I've not completed yet.
So I'm just lazying around here at home, cooking Bacons, putting Butter and Cheese on everything I could get my hands on, feasting on the open bottle of Nutella, and catching up on some X Factor, and admiring my sister's newly-renovated room. When I was here last, there was leakage in the water pipes abover her roof, so they got it fixed off of the Insurance. And the clever person that my Mom is, she ripped some of the wallpaper apart so the insurance people would think the leakage caused it, and therefore, replace it. And because my mom's friends were getting rid of some things like beds, and tables and cabinets, they gave it away for my sister's new room, and add that to the OC clean-up my mom did with it, it now looks immaculately tidy. And I just can't stop lingering around. Plus she left her closet with a lot of her clothes still in them -- bad decision. I'm gonna return with lots new stuff, I can't even!
I will be flying to Dundee on Sunday to visit her, because my mom thought it was pointless for me to go here and not see my sister. AS IF WE'D DIE IF WE DIDN'T SEE EACH OTHER. But my sister sounded sincere about me coming over so I guess, that's a good thing.
My itinerary's kinda hectic, especially with a Fred Perry-hunt I have to go on to for Dharel, because my Mom has heard about him quite a lot and I guess, likes him because she's willing to look for it wherever. And with only 6 days here, I won't forgive myself if I spend so much a half day here at home, where the only evidence of being in the UK is that even with a jacket, it's still cold. Everything is basically like I never left home. I'm watching House here on the cable, btw, as if I've not had enough House Marathon, and don't even get me started on Friends. And I really have to go out since my only memory of this trip would just be from my mind because surprise surprise, I forgot my camera. With everything I've been through, I kindof need this 1-week stay to count, and matter like it never did before. So I better spend my time wisely.
Which reminds me, it's now nearly 2 in the afternoon and I have not taken a shower yet. But here: greetings from our sala with the stinky me and my trusty Nutella:
Though that hair, I shall cut. Maybe tomorrow. Have a good day, y'all.
Monday, October 25, 2010
I know, I make the agnostics weep. But I was once given the full scream by my sister when I declared I was agnostic. Because she's the Philosophy major in the family, I couldn't really argue with her when she said, "I didn't know what the feck I was talking about." It's still true what I said though; that if God were here, I'd really like to talk to him in private because I'd like to get to the bottom of my main concern on Earth, explained best by this passage from Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre:
Why could I never please? Why was it useless to try to win anyone’s favor? Eliza, who was headstrong and selfish, was respected. Georgiana, who had a spoiled temper, a very acrid spite, a captious and insolent carriage, was universally indulged. Her beauty, her pink cheeks and golden curls, seemed to give delight to all who looked at her, and to purchase indemnity for every fault. John no one thwarted, much less punished, though he twisted the necks of the pigeons, killed the little pea-chicks, set the dogs at the sheep, stripped the hothouse vines of their fruit, and broke the buds off the choicest plants in the conservatory; he called his mother ‘old girl’, too; sometimes reviled her for her dark skin, similar to his own; bluntly disregarded wishes; not infrequently tore and spoiled her silk attire; and he was still ‘her own darling’. I dared commit no fault; I strove to fulfill every duty; and I was termed naughty and tiresome, sullen and sneaking, from morning to noon, and from noon to night.
Luckily, I think I've successfully applied the rule of attraction the last few days so every positive thought that I sent out to the universe were bounced back to me through positive manifestations. ( Read/or watch: The Secret for more on these rules of attraction meme.)
Here are some of the things that's been slowly restoring my faith the last couple of days:
The Jeep Birthday Tradition, where celebrants are mandated to treat the gang to a round of Red Box. But because this was a double-celebration (me and Jicky's) thus more money for the group, we kind of felt we had to feed them as well. Only Chiara was missing, but her spirit lives on! (Haha) It's rare to gather us all in one place, so this was kind of a milestone.
Free Books. For my birthday, Nachi (How to be bad) and Apol (The little Prince) gave me two of my book-lists as presents for my birthday. They had cute dedications, but I don't have an internet at home, and where I'm doing this, it doesn't have bluetooth. You get the tech complications and whatnots. Plus, I bought myself a Ned Vizzini too, because its old cover was available at FullyBooked gateway and I didn't really want another book with the movie poster on the front.
I'm flying to London this week! The exact date is still on the works. I was supposed to go Thursday night but I can only book one on the morning, which I think, won't do since I still have stuff I need to sort out before I leave. Which leaves me with Friday, or worst, Saturday. I really wanna go ASAP. But I'm better off just "letting it be". I think. I'll be greeting from Stevenage soon! But wish that I get there string-free first. Cos it's all crazy right now.
A new job, which I will reveal the day after I start working there. So it would already mean it's legit and fo shiz, because if there's one universal element that works wonders for me, it's jinxes.
Kthnxbye. And hope that I keep the faith.
Monday, October 18, 2010
It's become a habit lately for Nachi and I to root back from history where we'd gotten our being agnostic. Why we're not necessarily in love with God, and why, over the years, we've lost our appetite for Religion.
It began at a very young age when I realized I was the only one in my family who didn't have a Father. My mom wasn't there as well, and whenever she came home, there is always this wall that we've continually mounted for the years we've spent apart that's become too high to tear down. And I so badly want to tear it down. But it's not always easy to relearn how to love. If I was a character in Ricky Lee's Para Kay B, where this girl descended down to earth from a place where there's no love, I'd probably be her, shocked by the x-ray vision of her chest through her eyes that revealed, she had no heart.
Growing up, I had to put up with an Aunt who constantly scared me, and I had to live along the current of her mood or patience or else, I'm dead meat. In my 20 years, I've probably ran away from home more than 10 times. Because there is always this vacuum inside our house which never passed up on the opportunity to suck me in, and often, I found myself gasping for air. Very young, I knew, I wasn't one of the lucky ones. I lose important documents, get in trouble for the most mundane things, be humiliated crying in Grade School and my sister will refuse to come to my defense. I joined writing contests and lost them all, I get sick on the days of our Field Trips. On the day I didn't, my mom and I were left behind by the bus while we roam around Megamall clueless of what to do next. This, of course, was the reason why I wasn't always allowed to come to Field Trips. I once spent my recognition day in Grade School home alone, and my yaya had to scrounge around for any relative available to pin me my ribbon. I'd gotten a 3rd honor award, but by then, everyone was more interested with my sister's gold medals in sports, art, and beauty pageants. It was one day during those years when I got slapped (softly) by my aunt when I refused to pray the rosary in bed because, "he never listens anyway."
And then I went to come live with my mom in London. And I just got tired of praying because I knew that nothing will ever be a blessing if I was stuck in London, sulking every waking morning for being too damn unhappy. Nobody understood, they all thought I was just a spoiled kid who wanted things to go her way. But ofcourse I wanted them to fucking go my way, because it never does.
And did I mention? In the wide number of my generation, I was picked to inherit the family disease. I have a heart illness, while every one of my cousins live in perfect health. I don't wish sickness on anyone, not even on the person I loathe the most, but you just don't overlook the fact that as if your life doesn't suck enough, the universe gives you a ticking time bomb inside your chest. (No it's not so serious, I won't die from it - well maybe someday I would - it's just an inconvenience I have to live through for the rest of my sad life.)
By High School, I became happier. I thought I found my niche, and then I decided to fall in love. Which started the long-running streak of insecurity and self-pity and this infinite thought of never being good enough. To say it short: I grew up wading through a chain of defeat and failure. That whenever I succeed at something, it almost always fades out with whatever wrong is going to happen next. And they never wait too long - tragedy, I mean.
I managed through College, because I was already aware that I'm jinxed. That not only was I fated to trip on public places with a dozen other people there to laugh at me, I was also fated to fall short on the bigger things in life. And even if I manage to come through, I had, by then, drained out every bit of emotion until I'm too spent to really celebrate the good thing, because I've already become numb.
I thought that I had my time coming after Graduation. That I'll no longer be categorized into the status quo where I always lose among, and that this was my time to live without strict walls of judgment. But I failed each and every job application until I was just forced to take one that's already there, one that don't necessarily make me happy. During those times, one failure after the other, I visited the church to plead my case. I was bargaining for something; something little that I need to have compared to all the other hundred people who were getting everything they wanted without having to ask.
It's true: Bad things happen to Good people. And it's not an isolated case, because I've spent most of my life watching jerks and bitches get to their pedestal when I'm always tripping through hurdles. And God knows I've worked hard. He should, because otherwise, I have maybe not cried loud enough.
It's gotten to a point where I'm comfortable with being the girl who never gets what she wants; where my name is associated to bad luck, and nobody is ever surprised to see me fail any more. They just feel sorry, because I'm the kind of girl who gets bare and naked vulnerable for the whole world to pick on. And I don't mind, I've grown accustomed to having an audience to my heartbreak story, it's just, it would be nice to be the girl who gets something for once. Not even everything, just anything.
And up until this point, I have not had the break. I'm still the girl who spends her birthday looking pathetic waiting for a call that would never come. The girl who ends her birthday with a terribly aching heart. For as long as I can remember, I've always had to wake up the morning after my birthday, trying to mend the extent the Universe has chosen to break my heart this time.
It's not as if I'm the most oppressed person. But heartbreak is relative. I couldn't just compare my life to a girl who has nothing to eat in Africa, because in life, you get what you get. And whatever we're given with is proportionate to things you can and can't have. I have not asked for too much in my life, I never did, but I've never felt like I was blessed. Most often, I feel forced to settle for whatever's there because after 20 years, it has become the story of my life.
And I'm just really having a hard time believing that there is someone behind all of it, with a glowing robe and a wand waiting for the perfect moment to cast a spell and make my life magical. I know he supposedly carried the cross, and died so we could live, but am I suppose to carry a cross too? Isn't my burden heavy enough for a girl who only ever wanted a tiny hint from life that she, too, is being taken care of by whoever is in charge?
All I know is that if God was to be human for a day, I will make sure he hears it from me, and all I've kept through years are vent out to the one person who actually can do anything about it but haven't.
I haven't given up on faith, i'm just saying, I will kick the next person who will tell me "it's all in the plan." Because that plan sucks. Really, really does.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
I have had a very, very hard year. And I don't think a smooth couple of months could recompense for all the heartbreaks that I waded through everyday since March. And all I wanted to do before that was be happy, and I had all these expectations about what my life was going to be by the time I'm 20. And this isn't it.
I have long snapped out of my depression, but I just thought that my happiness goal could make it in time today, so I wouldn't have to wake up on the morning of my birthday feeling totally lacking and empty, which I did. Coupled with a phone call from an estranged cousin who told me I should go by their house, when all of us knows it's not a good idea to drop by considering all the tension around us. But still, I could never cut ties easily and it just breaks my heart to be reminded of all the things wrong in my life on my birthday.
And my mom hasn't called me yet. And I'm having a frustrating time at work, while I wait for my fate to suddenly grow in color or collapse right back to tiny more little pieces. The waiting is the hardest part, indeed, and instead of look forward, I dread the day because I've long been accustomed to having my heart breaking that it's kind of normal for bad things to happen to me. Apparently, that's my deal with the universe.
I'm having spaghetti and Ice Cream for dinner today with the folks at home, and if this were any other day, I wouldn't have cared enough to treat - - but this year, I need all the good vibes I can get. To come home to a dinner-less table and glee-deprived household as my birthday comes to its end after another painstakingly dragging day at the office would just be.........It would be too much.
And I've gone to the bathroom and cried soundless twice this day already, and I haven't even gotten past Lunch, which I decided to ditch because 1.) I have no appetite 2.) I don't like to be greeted over and over again when I'm aching to spend this day being greeted by the only people who could make me happy 3.) I didn't to spoil their happiness with my sourness. They already think I'm weird as it is; I don't need any more bad rep.
So if we could just fast forward please. Because I put the C in Crappy Birthday, and I'm sick of it.
Monday, October 11, 2010
This morning, as with every morning, I battled with my rebel bangs to look even just a little like a bang. I was running late for work, as with every morning, and I was getting every bit desperate. Then I remembered I still have that Bench Wax from a year ago that I lent my cousin. (Plug: It's great, girls, really fixes up your do' for ya.)
I was applying it on my hair when I couldn't resist taking the container up my nose until I've smelled every last bit of the fragrance. Every last bit of last year, when I bought it with my best friend (Karl) because my best friend (Jicky) told me to. Every last bit of 5 months ago, when I'd sulk to the side of the classroom by the podium, fixing my bangs with it like I was doing then, with my friends making fun of my "trying hard to have a bangs", when clearly, my hair just wasn't fit to. Every last bit of my last birthday, when that wax, my Pond's bottle, my Nivea deo spray, my ipod, and my ipod charger were the only things I needed to survive during the hell period of school, when we were barely sleeping, and each time we did, it's usually in Cara's house where you could get every thing you needed anyway. (Ipod charger, included) Basically, every last bit of the life I remember being truly happy.
After that long, the wax still smelled as great. (Plug: the product really lasts through time, guys) But it left a sting on my nose, like suddenly, even my sense couldn't recall the association of smell to happiness. Like they went together, and without the other, it just wasn't the same thing anymore. And it wasn't. I don't remember where and when I read it, but some character in my book, or movie, or series, said that the reason why they say 'you can't lie to yourself' is because your body is hardwired to know the truth, and recognize every inc of lie you make, even silently; silently as smelling hair wax at a bland morning, looking for something that turned out not to be there. Not anymore.
As a result, I came in for work, itching to do something different, go some place else, somewhere that's not here, because obviously, my bench wax doesn't get along with it. I need something that could make that thing smell as great.
But what the fuck do I know? I'm a girl who's basing life on the smell of a hair wax. Really, what the fuck do I know. I don't know anything.
Except for the fact that I can't bring myself to use the wax anymore.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
I still have a lot unread books from my
tower bulging undersized shelf, but as I was browsing through the Barnes and Noble Website, I came upon some that barged itself right in a cozy spot up my book list. Add these to the ones I have been meaning to get since 2006, and I've got myself a whole to-buy section that's so hard to stare at. Mostly because I am poor, and there's always something better to spend my money on, like, you know, Jollibee and McDonald's. But here goes:
1. Raymond Carver: A writer's life by Carol Sklenicka
Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman
3. Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan
4. It's kind of a funny story by Ned Vizzini
5. The boyfriend list by E. Lockhart
6. Commencement by J. Courtney Sullivan
7. Love, Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli
8. The Alchemyst: The secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel by Michael Scott
9. The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
(yeah snicker your little snickers, I haven't read it yet)
10. Franny and Zooey by J.D Salinger
11. The Harry Potter Series by J.K Rowling
(because each and every one of my copy - except the last - is squandered by book theft)
And those ladies and gentlemen are what's keeping me alive. Recently, I was really struck by the latest commercial of Nescafe: Para kanino ka bumabangon? And since then, I've been thrown into this deep pensive, to look for that something(one/place) I really wake up for. It's sad, but as of the moment, this list, my friend, is what I get out of bed for.