The Long Wait is Over

The past week landed me on a state of limbo. If I were to be OA about it, I felt so incomplete, so unhappy. My office mates have been teasing me for spacing out. I have been known to immediately give a reaction–however witty, weird or morbid–to anything that is verbally sent out in the atmosphere.

I knew I’m officially lost in that transition from being in a romantic relationship to one that’s become undefined. Undefined because I cannot call us friends or lover or anything.

There were nights I felt so alone. I debated with my inner self if I will let pride or anger or being in love rule over me. But never once did I felt hatred against him. And from his side, he never ceased to be very understanding.

But do you know one thing that made me happy about this ending? We didn’t come to a point where bitterness ruled. Sure, there was pain. We were both hurt, we cried and laughed stupidly at the same time. But I think we cared enough for each other to look on the brighter side always.

He is still there for me. And I, for him. We made each other better. Good times. :)

Am I real?

Sometimes, when I have nothing else to do except to lie down and wait for sleep to overpower me, I would think about the extremely bad things in life:

What will happen if I die? What will I die of and who will be coming to my wake? How useless I was for not being able to give back to my parents for all their hard work..

What will happen if I lose someone I love? Will I be crying as hard as those in television? Will there be times when I space out and find myself in a different place? What will I say or do if we meet again?

What will happen if I end up poorer than I am now?

I would cry just by thinking about all of these. And I never show my tears to anyone. They will just laugh at me and tell me I’m crazy or too paranoid, haha!

Five seconds later, when I exhausted my emotional self, I would think about happy and triumphant thoughts. (I don’t know about you, but I see this as an ‘exfoliating/rejuvenating’ process)

I would think about how happy I will be if I end up with someone I really loved and be able to share my future with him.

I would think about the children I will send to school—mine or not. I would think about how to reprimand them, teach them Math (a subject I am not good at) and watch them grow.

I would think about how will I be able to let my children taste how wonderfully I cook if I cannot cook right now.

And, I would smile until I sleep.

“Nanay and Tatay”

When I was younger, I thought the titles “Nanay & Tatay”, “Mama & Papa” and “Daddy& Mommy” are status symbols.

I thought “Nana and Tatay” belonged to poor families, “Mama and Papa” were how you called your parents if your family can afford more than the basics and “Mommy and Daddy” were parents to spoiled children who had frilly clothes and fat, lazy cats.

My parents wanted me to call them “Nanay and Tatay”. I did so without letting my classmates know. We lived in a nipa house and when a storm would pass by we would hide under the table. Hahaha! When it rained and the path walk to the dirt road was muddy, my father would piggyback ride us three one by one until we reached the highway.

It took me years to reveal this to my classmates: that we were poor and life was as simple as can be. After all, my parents did all they can to send us all to a private Catholic school in town. We were luckier than 90% of the children who lived in our barangay.

As I grew older, I began to see the tenderness that were in “Nanay and Tatay” that most children cannot mimic when they ask for new toys. “Mama and Papa” often clashed with “Nanay and Tatay” such that the former were reserved for one’s nuclear parents and the latter, for the grandparents. “Mommy and Daddy” were the ones used when one is asking for one peso coins to buy Stick-O or homemade pastillas.

As I recounted my piggyback ride and under-the-table-during-the-storm days, I smiled at the status symbols that were never meant to be.

The Home That Is Iloilo <3

When I am at home, I feel different. The positive different.

Unlike when I am in Cebu or Manila where work calls me to be up and awake all the time, Iloilo is like a pillow-blanket-mosquito net combination. The place enables me to laze around all day and be happy in a world full of anything but rules and needs.

When I am at home, I have time to think. About me, my life and the people who surround me. I can think about them and space out for hours. Only my mother’s calls of the three most wonderful time of the day can break the spell.

Iloilo makes me lazy. While Cebu and Manila demands of me to clean my room or wash my clothes, Iloilo encases my being and makes me a bum. My mother would bark the list of chores that needed to be done, and I would pause for a moment and think that these is one of the best music undiscovered by men.

This is the only place where I feel most comfortable even when I have not taken a bath for days. All I seem to do all day is open the refrigerator and plug in something in the socket.

When I am in Iloilo, I can be very productive in the ideal sense. I have time for stimulating thoughts—not the ones filled with memos, attendance and office rules.

I lavish at the thought of leaving this place to go back to the workroom. Because it is only during that moment that I look forward to the day I can go home to Iloilo once more.

Love writing.

I never thought I’d find myself writing professionally.

More often than not, I see a lot of errors in what I write. Sometimes, its within the data given to me. I misspell words or forget to include important contact details.

On certain occasions, I would find grammar mistakes after reading my work. I would confuse the purposes of dashes and hyphen and so on. I’m lucky if I detect them. If I can’t, online softwares or my boss will. Ouch.

Because of this, I fail to fully appreciate my outputs. I can see more faults than facts. More errors than essence. (Does this makes me a good copy editor then? XD)

But recently, I stumbled upon a blog (which URL and name escaped me) containing something like this: “Ten reasons to appreciate the writer in you.” I read until the bottom, but what caught my eye was the number 1 reason: Write, write, write. Forget about editing.

Then it hit me. I wasn’t there to edit. I was there to write. Writing is more challenging than editing. It is the reason millions of people are online/ reading print media. I was supposed to make a goldmine out of a single crap and sell it to a lot of people. This is the part where I should be free. I should be the one to add as many marshmallows and rainbows to my creation.

So I began doing just that. I wrote and wrote, and didn’t mind the technicalities for a while. But, I never forgot about editing. The crap will stay as such when it’s not polished. After writing, I did my best at editing. This time around, I am not as anxious.

I still have a few misspelled words, here and there. I still forget to include logos and some contact details. But this time around, I am happier with my work. It has more facts, more essence, more heart. Write like it’s your last. :)

Something to keep me going on (minus the alcohol)

I don’t like beer or most wines. Also, I do not like to drink when I write. Will have to barter those glasses with food. Any type will do. :]

Image from PRDaily

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“What’s the worst that can happen?”

This line scares me.

Because usually after this is spoken, A LOT of things worse and unimaginable happens. Especially in movies. The killer strikes. A deadly virus infects the city. The trip turns into a complete disaster. And the protagonists end up crying over dead bodies.

Ano pa in life, praning ako.My mind then becomes a highway for the worst things to come. Hehehe. Better not drop this line when I’m around. Or I would think twice about what you suggested.

Let’s just watch movies and curl up in bed. What’s the worst that can happen?

Chop, chop

Back in Iloilo, regular haircuts would cost me about 50-60 pesos, depending on how early I woke our barangay hairdresser. Hahaha! When she’d do a home service, for, say, the entire family very early in the morning, then…you do the Math.

Having my hair cut or styled or combed is one of my weaknesses. Hair-gasm, I call it. Hahaha! I find it very therapeutic and relaxing. If I had my way, I would have someone do magic to my hair on my bed. So I can just sleep.

But for my sister, having her hair chopped off is pure agony. Since we were little, she always had to sport a short, below-the-ear bob. My father wants it that way because my sister is never friends with a comb. She always found combing her hair a daunting task. They would fight about it and, as always, my father (the one with the money and authority) wins.

(Later on, I found out that my sister resembled our deceased grandmother the most. You get the picture.)

My hair kind of looks like this now. Except that mine are shorter and had a layered finish.

When I got a job, one of the many benefits is having your way with your own hair. And while I was having this very blissful moment in a salon near our boarding house, I thought of the reasons why girls get a haircut:

1. Being brokenhearted. Which I think is kind of lame, but I guess there are things we should figuratively cut off when we are hurt.

2. Wanting a new look. Which often happens as the year starts. When I was in high school, I’d get envious when my friends get new haircuts and I’m stuck with my not-so-appealing straight hair. But hey, it’s my fault: I should be the one to cry in the corner. Hehehe.

3. Asserting themselves. Which, in a way, is very related to Reason Numnber 2. Whether we show it or not, girls love compliments. And getting a new hairstyle and asking guys what they found physically new about us is a good source of self-esteem boost. And fights, on the other hand.

4. Having a bad case of hair fall or split-ends. However demeaning it will be on my ego, this is the unfortunate and usual reason for me having a new do. I am below healthy and having longer hair means robbing the rest of my body the nutrients it needs. Besides, I do have the makings of a mop sometimes.

Fancy having a haircut lately? :)

Kinikilig ako. Hihihihi.

No, it’s not the romantic-related kilig[,sorry].

I just read on PR Daily the 7 Habits of Highly Effective Writers*. Kag number 1 pa lang, igo na ko dayon. Hehehehe.

For easier reference on your part, here is the bulleted form:

1) Separate the writing and the editing processes.
2) Focus on the interesting.
3) Tap into the power of metaphor.
4) Do adequate research.
5) Learn from the writing of others.
6) Write in small bursts.
7) Read their work out loud.

With the exception of Number 4 (becuase I’m too lazy to do that sometimes),kinikilig ako. Kasi feeling ko, on my way na ako into becoming highly effective. Hihihi.

*post written by Daphne Gray-Grant