A Disappointment

Perhaps, what would be worst that failing yourself is failing your parents, to hear them say, "I'm disappointed at you." Or even just to see their eyes convey their sadness at how you weren't able to reach their expectations.

Maybe this is why despite the boring routine of having to work for the family, I stay and I strive... So that one day, maybe, they can truly, honestly, wholeheartedly say, "I am proud of you."

Someday... Maybe...

Changing

Change is hard.

It is in our human nature to resist change, and yet, change is also inevitable. Even the hardest of rocks gets weathered and transformed by nature's elements... Sometimes, even without it moving an inch.

I turned 25 this year and I vowed to change. I announced to the world that I would make this year a truly unforgettable one. And that only meant that I HAVE BECOME WILLING TO CHANGE, to be sharpened and molded into becoming a better version of me. And for someone as stubborn and as "sigurista" as I am, it would mean risking failure and becoming openly vulnerable to whatever God plans for me.

Fear tries to hold me back, but a voice inside me reminds me of my promise to change. So I go on, one uncertain step at a time with a lot of faith in my heart, and bright smile on my face. See you when I get there!

Here's to a new me! Cheers! :D

A Great Reminder to Wait

"Lord, I am ready to commit myself to someone I want to fall in love with. Could I take him now? I have prayed for him for quite a time now."

But the Lord answered, "No, not until you are satisfied, fulfilled and content with being loved by Me alone. You need to give yourself totally unreserved to Me because in Me your satisfaction is to be found and when you learn to commit yourself to Me alone then, only then is the right time for you to be capable of perfect human relationship that I have planned for you long before you thought of it.

You will never be united with another until you are united with Me. You will never learn to speak and understand the true language of love until you hear Me speak it. You will never learn how it is to love and be loved until you feel the tender touch of My Love.

I want you to stop planning, stop wishing and allow Me to step in and give you the most surprising and exciting plan that you can imagine. You are My child. I want you to have the best. Please allow Me to bring it to you. Fix your eyes on Me and expect the greatest things as you watch.

Keep experiencing the satisfaction that I AM. Learn all the things I tell you and be patient. Just wait.

Don't be anxious. Do not worry. Don't look around and feel jealous at the things others may have gotten. Yours will be different because I LOVE YOU. Don't look at the things you think you want. They may not be the things I want for you. Look up straight at Me because you might miss what I want to show you.

And then, when you're ready, I'll surprise you with a lover far more wonderful than what you would ever dream of. But I won't let you have it until you are ready and the one I prepared for you is ready, until you are both satisfied exclusively with Me and the life I have prepared for you."

Women, Food and God: An Excerpt

The bottom line, whether you weigh 340 pounds or 150 pounds, is that when you eat when you are not hungry, you are using food as a drug, grappling with boredom or illness or loss or grief or emptiness or loneliness or rejection. Food is only the middleman, the means to the end. Of altering your emotions. Of making yourself numb. Of creating a secondary problem when the original problem becomes too uncomfortable. Of dying slowly rather than coming to terms with your messy, magnificent, and very, very short—even at a hundred years—life. The means to these ends happens to be food, but it could be alcohol, it could be work, it could be sex, it could be cocaine.

For a variety of reasons we don't fully understand (genetics, temperament, environment), those of us who are compulsive eaters choose food. Not because of its taste. Not because of its texture or its color. We want quantity, volume, bulk. We need it—a lot of it—to go unconscious. To wipe out what's going on. The unconsciousness is what's important, not the food.

Sometimes people will say, "But I just like the taste of food. In fact, I love the taste! Why can't it be that simple? I overeat because I like food."

But.

When you like something, you pay attention to it. When you like something—love something—you take time with it. You want to be present for every second of the rapture. But overeating does not lead to rapture: It leads to burping and farting and being so sick that you can't think of anything but how full you are.

That's not love; that's suffering.

Musophobia

I hate rodents.

I'm so terrified of them that I lose all sense of pride and poise whenever a creature presents itself, scurrying in my path. Imagine their dark gray hair, tiny feet with tiny little claws, probably teeming with germs and a sly, devious face that not even a mother could love.

Even when I avoid them, they terrorize me no end.

Now they're back in the kitchen, leaving little black poop pellets where our pans and pots are placed and I'm afraid that they'll contaminate the food we eat.

I HAAATE THEM. I'm going to buy more of those sticky glue papers and boards as soon as I get off work. And then when they get caught, we'll fold them up and squish them to death.

Grrrr.

Press RESTART

I can't remember why I stopped blogging, or how I was able to. But I realize now just how much I missed writing, missed the escape and the relief that writing brings me everytime I feel like I'm about to burst from pent-up emotions.

Coming from a 2 year (or was it 3?) hiatus, I am back. Loaded and ready to type, type, type until I've got this blogging up and running again!

Boys Over Flowers

Yes, I know how ridiculous the title sounds like. And I know a lot of people would be rolling their eyes as they think I'm hooked onto the another version of my most beloved Meteor Garden. But WAIT, I must say, that this version is (dodges all the haters) BETTER.

I mean, the actors can actually act. The clothes actually look expensive. The cars are, whoo-whee, actual racecars. The shoot locations are beyooteeful, believable and exclusive-looking. And the boys...are just gorgeous.

There.

So that's what I'm spending hours tra-la-laing about.

I still wonder how much damage could falling for fictional character do.

Hmm...let's find out, shall we? ;)

Tick-Tock

I feel like a ticking timebomb on countdown, filled to the brim with frustration, just anxiously awaiting and fearing my own explosion.

My chest feels cramped, as though invisible Schwarzenegger arms are squeezing the blood out of my heart, draining my lifeline.

I'm trying so hard to cope. I take deep, slow breaths from the bottom of my lungs, drawing from the bottom of my lungs, hoping this can calm down the almost-irrational fear that's building in me.

I feel like a racecar driver, speeding down the highway past blurred trees, streetlights and buildings and suddenly realizing, the brakes don't work.

Sadistic Pest-Hunting

I have a secret to confess.

My guiltiest pleasure, dessert indulgences aside, is lashing out my inhumane sadistic tendencies towards pests.

I find immense pleasure in watching a mosquito sizzle, spark and crackle on my 120-peso electronic hand-swatter. I find it so gratifying that I have considered making 'pest-hunting' an official hobby. I could spend hours and hours just chasing and swishing after flying nuisances and barbecuing them to death. It’s like getting hooked onto little spurts of Adrenaline rush.

My mom says it’s a waste of time, but I say it could be a potential workout regimen. What with all the arm-swinging and running, it could very well make up for the thousand hours of cardio I need to make up for since I have long been M.I.A. from the gym.

Plus, I figured pest-hunting might be a good outlet for my much-repressed sadistic alter ego to practice methods of torture and express all the violence it wishes to lash out onto the world. After all, we'd all prefer the massacre of winged bloodsuckers than have my alter ego take over and go out the world to start jolting everyone with this battery-operated, China-made weapon of mass aggravation, right?

Valentine's Day Sentiment

Bah. Humbug!

Tupperware Lady

She chirped, she giggled, she batted her eyelashes at me. She called me up several times a week. I heard her syrupy voice float across telephone wires almost every day. She said I was pretty, intelligent, sweet and more--every little thing that one can assume from just sharing cordial phone conversations.

I found her amusing at first. I laughed at how this middle-aged woman could remind me so much of a four-year old kid. I almost even believed all the compliments she showered me with.

But then, days became weeks and weeks became months and I had to start making an effort to be nice. I had to smile through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. I had to start lying about urgent things-to-do that just cannot be postponed. And I had to constantly restrain myself from accidentally cutting the phone line.

Yes, it was that bad.

But it was when I started to dodge phonecalls, avoid picking up the receiver myself and cringe at every rrriiing that I realized this has got to stop.

So the next time the phone rang, I picked up the phone, and to no surprise, found the caller to be my Tupperware lady. The syrupy voice reminiscent of a toddler stuck to my ear canals, clogging them with BS. With every minute passing and my blood sugar rising, I allowed her to finish her spiel. Then, when she finally took a breather, I cut in.

"Tita, uhmm..." I hesitated. "To be perfectly honest, I'm not interested to buy Tupperware."

"Bakit naman? Maganda ito, atsaka matibay, atsaka napapalitan kapag may sira, ataska..." She rebutted.

"Hindi ko naman kasi siya gagamitin. Marami pa po kaming Tupperware sa bahay. As a matter of fact, sa sobra pong dami, nakatambak nalang sa storage room 'yung iba." I reasoned in the kindest tone I could deliver.

"Magagamit mo naman sila. Someday! Malay mo kapag nag-asawa ka na, siyempre kakailanganin mo rin ng gamit sa kusina. Malalagyan mo sila ng mga ulam. 'Pag nagka-anak ka na, magagamit mo rin sila sa paglagay ng baby food. Pwede rin silang lagyan ng baon ng anak at asawa mo. Tapos 'pag..." She rattled on and on about the advantages of Tupperware at hyperspeed.

At this point, my patience was wearing tissue-paper thin, but she wouldn't let me interrupt. On and on she went about the good stuff that Tupperware is made of, the gargantuan benefits I would reap, and how my life would not be complete without using them.

For all the syrup poured into my ears, I somehow managed to tune her out in the middle of her long, well-memorized speech and slipped into a more interesting daydream. Then, without any real thought behind it, my fingers took a life of its own, took hold of the receiver and placed it back on its cradle with a satisfying "click." Snapping out of my daydream, I realized what I had done and took the extra step of pulling the cord from the back end of our telephone.

Soon therafter, I discovered the development of my telephone-ring phobia. Symptoms are cringing, brow-furrowing, jaw-clenching and the ability to switch to speaking with a Visayan accent.

"Ay, Ate, pasinsya na pu. Umalis pu kasi siya..."

Still Waitin' On The Blogbug

Hummin': Barista ('D Pinoy Version of Bartender)

I stared at the monitor for a good five minutes, my eyes focused on the blinking cursor. I wanted to write something, anything that would get me started on the blogging habit again. But somehow, that writing "thing" just wouldn't budge.

I wrote a word, then backspaced. I typed a phrase, then a sentence, but ended up with having to highlight and delete.

Sigh. Just when I had my hopes up, my blogging thing won't go to work.

Maybe, perhaps, hopefully...I'll be able to come up with something before the week ends.

Life's Walkathon

I have been on a long blogging hiatus. I had to face reality as an adventure that all new graduates are forced to join. I followed different directions, took alternate routes, risked taking shortcuts and even took the 'road less traveled.'

Somehow, after a year and some, I found myself on the same spot I started in, and yet so much farther from my intended destination.

My pockets are so much lighter now, my bank account have lost substantial zeroes, and yet I am far wealthier in experience. They do say that experience is the best teacher. You just have to be able to stomach the gut-churning tuition fees. Honestly, I expected to feel pain and regret over paying the price, but somehow, I was able to find peace knowing that each peso flying out of my wallet was well worth it.

Today, despite the many turns I had to take, I am able to keep my sanity and my courage to head out and continue to find my purpose in life and what role I play in the perfect masterplan of our Maker.

It all starts with a step, right? I just think of it simply as putting one foot in front of another and praying that I'm heading the right way.

Hope you all have a resolutely happy Christmas!

Liberated

It's been put off for so long, but I finally reached the point where I really had to speak up for myself.

Unfortunately, I discovered nobody really listened or cared about what the difficulties I went through.

And so, I gave up optimism, waived the white flag and signed a piece of paper with a 30-day effectivity.

Hah!

This form of retreat has been the most gratifying experience. I felt like a ton of 'sama ng loob' lifted from my shoulders the moment I gave that paper to formally resign from my post.

It's liberating--a feeling I haven't felt for a long, long time.

If you still haven't felt it, let me say that I'm no-holding-back kind of happy at this point in time. :)

Finally Coming Home

With one collapsed lung and a bleeding heart, his last breath escaped from his lips. He waited for cold and darkness to swallow him, taking his borrowed life. Instead he felt something ignite inside him, spreading warmth through his body. His heart started pulsing, strength coursing in his veins, filling him with life he thought he'd lost.

Opening his eyes, he found himself standing before tall, majestic gates with spires that glistened with gold. Everything in the place emanated light, radiating like the sun. But the strange brightness did not pierce the eyes nor burned the skin. Rather it felt as though the light cleansed him, reaching into the depths of his soul.

Enrobed with light, he shone like the rest of them. Joy that he had never experienced before filled his being, rousing his undiscovered gift of song. His heart offered a melody of praise, blending with the chorus that resonated from the other enlightened beings.

He took unguarded steps in that curiously familiar place, mesmerized by the brightest Light of all. The powerful Light every corner of the place, shining brighter than anything he had ever seen—and yet, his eyes were able to see without needing to squint. He approached closer, the Light, with the kindest smiling eyes, offering an inviting glow.

In an unprecedented gesture, the Light stretched forth his arms and lovingly wrapped him in a tight embrace. In a moment, all his trepidations vanished and he felt peace blossoming from his core.

As he felt the last molecule of doubt fading into nothing, he realized he has found home, at last.

She-creature

She stood there with a pair of menacing eyes, coffee-stained teeth, dark, cracked and parched lips, long fingers that ended with sharp, sickly yellow nails and skin that have yet to escape puberty’s curse of recurring acne.

She took one of those slender sticks of cigarette, lifted it to her waiting mouth, flicked her lighter over the tip and took a deep breathe of the sweet poison. Her shoulders slowly dropped as she closed her eyes to feel the calming effects of the gray smoke that escaped through her nostrils. Deeply, she inhaled once more through the white stick, her eyes squinting in concentration. After a brief respite, her bottom lip contorted to the left, giving way to liberate more of this sickly perfume.

I watched her every move, captivated both by fear and amazement.

Her unsettling outside appearance reflected only the outmost layer of her distorted spirit. I have never met a creature of her kind before…

The Chameleon

I am this close to quitting. Seriously.

First, the inefficient IT goes around all day taking credit for what the whole team has done, which, IT doesn't even take a pinky to lift most of the time.

Second, IT drives me nuts by being needy. I am not a secretary, but I sometimes have to do Yaya duties.

Third, I am at the end of my wits when IT pushes her weight around, despite knowing IT is at fault. IT has never admitted her mistakes.

Fourth, IT volunteers jobs and projects that we are not supposed to be championing. I know that it is good to assert one's self, but I also believe one should not bite off more than one can chew.

Fifth, those extra jobs IT takes--she passes them on to the rest of us, which we have to handle ourselves and then, update IT with the outcome.

Then we go back to the first reason where IT gets the gist of the project and reports it to the top management as though IT was the only one that came up with the idea, worked with it and finished it in record time. I am so full of this shit that I'm terribly afraid I might be unconsciously morphing into someone like IT .

I get blamed for all the bad things, even the ones I have no inkling of. IT has never defended me for me, even while I get reprimanded standing beside her. IT has reasoned out once for the team, but that was because she herself was also being questioned.

Can you believe that load of crap? And the person who is supposed to correct/reprimand IT, instead of demanding an answer from my SUPERIOR, goes straight to me for the blame.

Is this great or what?

Backstabbed

Severely Backstabbed

Hummin': Bad Day by Daniel Powter

I've never met anyone like IT, who can be the nicest, funniest, (heck, even) coolest person one minute and metamorphose into the ugliest, shapeliest monster the next.

She can switch sides just like -that- and manipulate you into thinking you're at fault or are directly involved as a problem's source. She is like an expansive black canopy that screens all your good deeds and highlights the smallest of mishaps. I often wonder how she can turn off her conscience and sleep at night.

I've only been discovering lately just how much she has been nitpicking behind my back, using me as a scapegoat so she can be PERFECT. It enrages me when she small-talks and be all friendly-friendly with me, when I know that she would be stabbing me with a dagger the second I turn my back.

*shivers*

Imagine having to deal with something like IT for 10 hours a day EVERYday.

I've almost given up thrice with all the politics that she plays around with. I mean, how could anyone be that lazy, callous, selfish and bossy still appear like a superduperstar at her job? She's got top management eating out of the palm of her hand, just like the way I used to be.

I'm giving it a last high-ho, because my next horrible discovery will most likely send me straight to the hospital with a letter of resignation the very next day.

Fat and Frustrated

I'm a liar.

I tell myself that I am going to start a healthier diet but I binge when I get home--late at night so no one can see me wreck myself.

I smile at people but in truth, I am gritting my teeth and shooting them dead in my thoughts.

I justify why this job is "worth it," but I am just afraid of what people will say if I suddenly quit.

I act like I'm naive, but I see through every bit of Tupperware-ness these people put on display.

I am deemed sweet and thoughtful, but if only they know how much of a bitch I can be, they would think thrice before crossing me.

I am a liar.

And a DAMN GOOD ONE at that.

Ms. Piggy

I promised myself I would never fall off the track and return to that place of bingeing and not caring about what I put in my mouth.

I broke that promise...and am now slowly gaining back the pounds I've lost!

I'm getting desperate, not because I can't lose it, but rather that I can't seem to stop nibbling on stuff, even past midnight. Is this a sign of stress, bad nerves? Plus, I tried going to the gym after work, but exercising at 9-ish makes me so darn sleepy. I'm running on the treadmill and almost dozing off, and I'm scared that I might actually fall asleep and injure myself!

Here's what someone told me, "Abi, what's happening to you? You're like a butterfly that's turned into a CATERPILLAR. For other people, it's the other way around!"

Waaahhh!!! I don't know what's happening!!!

I need HELP. I'm thinking of trying the South Beach diet, but I looove and survive on fruits so I don't know how I'm going to keep away from it for two weeks. Does anyone have any recommendations?