22.6.09
20.11.08
Humility Undone!
There are days when no one but He can offer me solace. It has been a trying week, and with all the people I've seen in the last couple of days, no one noticed the cracks. It is an imperfect mask I wear perfectly. Friends are always quick to love the fun-loving Leonine that often the less outlandish (albeit most substantial) traits I possess are dismissed with a bat of an eyelash. No worries. I answer only to Him. And as long as He sees, I know I'm all good.
Everyone sees my obvious strength (in stature, in speech and in deed) yet they fail to see how I became this infallible force of femme intimidation. It all comes from one thing I value above all- my faith. It wasn't something I was born with and certainly isn't genetic. In all honesty, it took awhile for me to get here- but I am where I am because He came through for me despite everything. The unconditionality of His love reminds me that humility, above all things, should take precedent in TW&D.
A couple of days ago, I found myself lost in Greenbelt with an hour of leisure to twiddle with. I walked to Starbucks and had a cup of coffee and made my way to the new GB5, when I heard singing. Not a lot of people know that I am a sucker for mass songs. (I am!!!) And nothing brings me more peace than being inside a place of worship. This is my me-time with the Father. Hearing a Filipino mass song brought back a memory and I immediately turned...and remembered.
This same chapel that I went to almost 2 years ago. I wasn't a prayerful person then, and I went in because I didn't know where else to go. I was just so tired of my life.
I went in...and prayed. And asked. I was surprised that I didn't even have a prayer as I entered His home. I wasn't a bad person to start with, but my spirituality was crying to be found. It was a desperation that I had no clue if I was coming or going. I was stuck. Latent. In limbo. And I went in sans the trimmings of a well-presented Catholic with a prayer already in mind. Was it blind faith? Maybe.
But that was the singular thing that brought me where I am now. I am not fumbling anymore and I am humbled by how I got to where I am. Almost 2 years ago, a completely different person walked out of this beautiful chapel.
And since then, I've tried consistently to do good. Good people will always do good things. And despite the fact that good people get stuck in bad scenarios, they will always get the chance to make it right again. Believe you me, I am far from perfect, but in my way, I try to live each day with a sense of fun, humility and good sense (you just have to tweak and vary them depending on the situation!) I always try to steer clear of the "if everyone's doing it, then why can't I?" mindset. I don't think that would bring me even an ounce of happiness. Yet I try to do so with the fervent hope that my good intentions will shine through each random act. Admittedly, with the 'what you see is what you get' vibe I give off, there are a few things that I don't disclose at face value. More than a trust issue, I would say it is unresolved as of the present time and will need more time to unfold. There are some storylines that need happy endings to come full circle-- this is what makes the whole disclosure of a not-so beautiful experience beautiful. I don't set out to hide things as it isn't in my nature, but I don't reveal them until I feel comfortable enough to share a very private part of my life as I've come to know it.
I always tell people that I'm a good girl with bad habits, but it isn't entirely true (nor entirely false, come to that...). I am eternally quixotic and an ardent believer in happy endings. There is goodness in everyone. And now, more than ever, I believe that when something is lost, an infinitely better gift will find its way to you. God is always willing to give. You just have to be willing to receive. This is His grace. Forever living. Forever shining.
Yes, when there are days that no one but He can calm my inner demons, I do the innately simple act: I surrender.
27.10.08
loving men
(wo-hooo...such an easy thang to do...)
One of the salacious observations I've seen in human nature that drives me absolutely livid is how imagination runs amok because of their penchant for cheesmax. [Laos.] Wrongful use of the brainstorm time & unnecessary pooling of brain waves. What should be a simple case of "Ok." becomes a string of [mis]information, awry fishing expeditions resulting in frenzied vooollsheet [with matching ubo].
Astutely sad yet true- Do 9 out of 10 things right and the hoi polloi will fixate on the 1 thing wrong. It's always the minimal misdemeanor that runs free where tongues of fire are concerned. Life's a bloomin' onion sometimes. It just brings tears (laughter/happiness and woe amongst others) to your eyes.
Pro'ly the singular reason why I'm AT peace. Such a real estate cliche'. Location, location, location. Far from wagging tongues- sort of being in a Cast Away-inspired set providing for social interaction at the behest of the lone star. Standard of living so high survival concept couldn't be missed. Money being the harbinger of sustenance and Maslow's Basics comes and goes till it comes again (don't get me started on council tax whingeing), plus character's battery acid has withstood trials to sawa that even recycling won't do. All's well that ends well. I've dealt with my soulitaire cards as I put them down. On my table in my own time on my initiative. I am the boss of me. Twas here that I made ME my numero uno fan.
Late realization that was late but appreciated for its impeccable timing!
. . . . . .
You Rolex...Me Ikepod!
Chatted casually with J today. Of same ethnic throng, but oceans apart in mindset and demeanor. He's the gold diamond studded Rolex and I'm the Ikepod with all the bright and complicated dials. I cater to the niche market. [Right...] I have known this friend for a decade. Hmm...J is a bit of a brag who will claim he can walk his millionnaire talk. I dare not disagree. Flaunt it as you choose (although cooler when you don't.) Anyone would be impressed upon initial ocular inspection of J. I don't mind braggarts as the conversations make for fun tea-time tat. As long as they ain't rude, condescending and matapobre, I can string along. The business savvy of his kind are unparalleled. The angel's in the minute details.
He's 老扳 ［lao ban］（aka C.O.O. =Child Of Owner） of a family-owned agri-business (typical!), wears ONLY designer (di daw sha nagfa-fake), plays golf, wears THE watch and drives THE car and lives THE darn good life. He eats only in expensive restaurants and has probably never had to wash anything but his ass in the entirety of his existence. (It is humbling perspective, isn't it, that no matter what kind of shoes you walk in, you still go to the toilet.) End of the day, dude checks out! That's the prototypical Tsinoy for you. Very familiar stirrings of the prototype I fell for some light years ago. Ouch!
I digress... chat buzz ala J, accompanied by a preoccupation of packing and a glass of red...said he heard that I shall be homebound. "We should see each other." Of course. Who wouldn't want to see all the friendly faces one can muster in a fortnight before brandishing the plane tix that takes me back to Big Ben?
The 90-sec catching up all done, he then starts asking questions about relationships. Ahh. For some unflailing reason, friends think my lovelife is loverly than it really is. If I remember accurately, the last time J & I spoke about this was over beer and chow when I was a rough-and-tumble man-hater with a mission for spewing forgettable expletives unbecoming of a lady.
So Chicken Little fires away.
"Dating anyone?" some.
"Puti?" Some.
"Okay ba?" Ayos lang.
Then a roll on the floor laughter of a smiley. Curious Georgina that I am, I asked why. And the answer-
'ay player ka pa rin'
I just sat back and settled into my packing without replying.
Not furious, frustrated. When these instances occur, I back off.
Five minutes later, there was a melange of explanation with apologies...all of which made things worst. I'm not going to copy and paste a script of Gossip Girl.
All that needs saying is the throng is WRONG, & I am happy I am not there to hear. I don't get upset for myself. But for the people I love, it affects and hurts them.
People can sh*t-talk me and expect a reaction, after my hell and highwater experience, it takes a lot more to get a rise out of me.
I have a manhid gene the size of the Soviet Union. I don't agree with his hasty generalizations, I can abso-F***IN`-lutely see where it all comes from.
Told you. Same throng. I understand the whys and wherefores. It isn't a two-way thing though... I don't think he gets me. But having said that-- mi pièce de résistance is much less digestible...
The conscious choice to becoming fisher-friends of men does not a player make me.
Because I admit, I like men.
I befriend men. I laugh with men. I learn from men. I drink with men. I dine with men. I dance with men. I meet men. I hug men. I flatter men. I think of men (especially men I try not to think about). I listen to men. I kiss men. I manhandle men...
So many activities, and with so many men in sight, why the heaven not? (Devil worshipper ako haha)
In a nutshell, I do menstuff with men. And I am comfortable with that.
Eversince the last torch traveled from Greece to Beijing, I have become a converted (albeit convoluted) man-loving woman.
Sure, I'd been jinxed by a stink of a man, but who hasn't?
My fault was in the lapse of my judgment with a man who i thought was THE man.
I loved someone who had been right in the eyes of many, but so wrong for me.
And the society didn't see what happened behind close doors.
That's what makes judgement so easy to pass and so hard to hold back. Like fart.
And unlike the rest of the femmes in da throng, I am lucky in the sense that I found out early in life as I am settled in the knowledge that my kind wasn't for me. (I think the feeling is mutual.)
Had I not fallen into the traps of youthful sexual fervor (naks!!!), I'd have traversed boundaries earlier on. [At 20, I wanted to go to New York to study by day & bartend by night. hehe...] My mom says what happened with ... was in hindsight, a blessing- because had it not, I would be a drifter as I seem to not have set my sights on slowing down. She worries that I've misplaced my mojo for commitment. She worries, and it is imminent in her advice. I just don't feel the urge to merge. She is dumbfounded that I'm a poster girl for singlehood. I scold and dismiss how daft tradition is mouthing off, talking nonsense. I will commit when I'm ripe for the picking, . Her friendly soothsayer (yes, she has one whom she believes...I kid you not!) has opined that 1 of her daughters will find it a challenge to commit. Tough call.
But all that aside, the man-hating stage is over. It was nothing that time couldn't nix and fix. Leonine women love men and try as I might, I cannot and will not be a man-hater. I cannot be told (or asked) to compromise.CAN NOT. Romance is alive and well and I believe in it now more than ever. Possibly play the lion who will bid the lion-tamer to domicility.
Interplay is not idle play. Interaction is not body action. Intercourse isn't simple sexual coupling. (Apparently Gestalt is in again.) And flirting is a skill that involves banter, laughing out loud and jumpstarting the dura mater into activity + a bloke in the periphery for inspiration. Just how bad is that?
Screwed up, scrubbed down and sewn together again...regardless of the kind is what i meant to say, men are men. And men...like women, are the same. All want to be loved, accepted and showered with affection. Sure- the obvious differences aside that will flame an endless debacle may ensue as to which sex reigns supreme, but the inclination for L&A isn't one of them. The matters of the heart encompass gender juxtaposition and provided you are honest, love can never deny you or be denied by you because ultimately, it catches up with you at some point. It is a human desire you can't avoid. And why would you ever want to?
LIFE IS TOO SHORT TO NOT WANT IT ALL.
But celebrate life whether or not you find him.
As for J and to the rest of our throng- No hard feelings. I feel the oomph! for the first time. I am where I should be.
Welcome to my good life!
One of the salacious observations I've seen in human nature that drives me absolutely livid is how imagination runs amok because of their penchant for cheesmax. [Laos.] Wrongful use of the brainstorm time & unnecessary pooling of brain waves. What should be a simple case of "Ok." becomes a string of [mis]information, awry fishing expeditions resulting in frenzied vooollsheet [with matching ubo].
Astutely sad yet true- Do 9 out of 10 things right and the hoi polloi will fixate on the 1 thing wrong. It's always the minimal misdemeanor that runs free where tongues of fire are concerned. Life's a bloomin' onion sometimes. It just brings tears (laughter/happiness and woe amongst others) to your eyes.
Pro'ly the singular reason why I'm AT peace. Such a real estate cliche'. Location, location, location. Far from wagging tongues- sort of being in a Cast Away-inspired set providing for social interaction at the behest of the lone star. Standard of living so high survival concept couldn't be missed. Money being the harbinger of sustenance and Maslow's Basics comes and goes till it comes again (don't get me started on council tax whingeing), plus character's battery acid has withstood trials to sawa that even recycling won't do. All's well that ends well. I've dealt with my soulitaire cards as I put them down. On my table in my own time on my initiative. I am the boss of me. Twas here that I made ME my numero uno fan.
Late realization that was late but appreciated for its impeccable timing!
. . . . . .
You Rolex...Me Ikepod!
Chatted casually with J today. Of same ethnic throng, but oceans apart in mindset and demeanor. He's the gold diamond studded Rolex and I'm the Ikepod with all the bright and complicated dials. I cater to the niche market. [Right...] I have known this friend for a decade. Hmm...J is a bit of a brag who will claim he can walk his millionnaire talk. I dare not disagree. Flaunt it as you choose (although cooler when you don't.) Anyone would be impressed upon initial ocular inspection of J. I don't mind braggarts as the conversations make for fun tea-time tat. As long as they ain't rude, condescending and matapobre, I can string along. The business savvy of his kind are unparalleled. The angel's in the minute details.
He's 老扳 ［lao ban］（aka C.O.O. =Child Of Owner） of a family-owned agri-business (typical!), wears ONLY designer (di daw sha nagfa-fake), plays golf, wears THE watch and drives THE car and lives THE darn good life. He eats only in expensive restaurants and has probably never had to wash anything but his ass in the entirety of his existence. (It is humbling perspective, isn't it, that no matter what kind of shoes you walk in, you still go to the toilet.) End of the day, dude checks out! That's the prototypical Tsinoy for you. Very familiar stirrings of the prototype I fell for some light years ago. Ouch!
I digress... chat buzz ala J, accompanied by a preoccupation of packing and a glass of red...said he heard that I shall be homebound. "We should see each other." Of course. Who wouldn't want to see all the friendly faces one can muster in a fortnight before brandishing the plane tix that takes me back to Big Ben?
The 90-sec catching up all done, he then starts asking questions about relationships. Ahh. For some unflailing reason, friends think my lovelife is loverly than it really is. If I remember accurately, the last time J & I spoke about this was over beer and chow when I was a rough-and-tumble man-hater with a mission for spewing forgettable expletives unbecoming of a lady.
So Chicken Little fires away.
"Dating anyone?" some.
"Puti?" Some.
"Okay ba?" Ayos lang.
Then a roll on the floor laughter of a smiley. Curious Georgina that I am, I asked why. And the answer-
'ay player ka pa rin'
I just sat back and settled into my packing without replying.
Not furious, frustrated. When these instances occur, I back off.
Five minutes later, there was a melange of explanation with apologies...all of which made things worst. I'm not going to copy and paste a script of Gossip Girl.
All that needs saying is the throng is WRONG, & I am happy I am not there to hear. I don't get upset for myself. But for the people I love, it affects and hurts them.
People can sh*t-talk me and expect a reaction, after my hell and highwater experience, it takes a lot more to get a rise out of me.
I have a manhid gene the size of the Soviet Union. I don't agree with his hasty generalizations, I can abso-F***IN`-lutely see where it all comes from.
Told you. Same throng. I understand the whys and wherefores. It isn't a two-way thing though... I don't think he gets me. But having said that-- mi pièce de résistance is much less digestible...
The conscious choice to becoming fisher-friends of men does not a player make me.
Because I admit, I like men.
I befriend men. I laugh with men. I learn from men. I drink with men. I dine with men. I dance with men. I meet men. I hug men. I flatter men. I think of men (especially men I try not to think about). I listen to men. I kiss men. I manhandle men...
So many activities, and with so many men in sight, why the heaven not? (Devil worshipper ako haha)
In a nutshell, I do menstuff with men. And I am comfortable with that.
Eversince the last torch traveled from Greece to Beijing, I have become a converted (albeit convoluted) man-loving woman.
Sure, I'd been jinxed by a stink of a man, but who hasn't?
My fault was in the lapse of my judgment with a man who i thought was THE man.
I loved someone who had been right in the eyes of many, but so wrong for me.
And the society didn't see what happened behind close doors.
That's what makes judgement so easy to pass and so hard to hold back. Like fart.
And unlike the rest of the femmes in da throng, I am lucky in the sense that I found out early in life as I am settled in the knowledge that my kind wasn't for me. (I think the feeling is mutual.)
Had I not fallen into the traps of youthful sexual fervor (naks!!!), I'd have traversed boundaries earlier on. [At 20, I wanted to go to New York to study by day & bartend by night. hehe...] My mom says what happened with ... was in hindsight, a blessing- because had it not, I would be a drifter as I seem to not have set my sights on slowing down. She worries that I've misplaced my mojo for commitment. She worries, and it is imminent in her advice. I just don't feel the urge to merge. She is dumbfounded that I'm a poster girl for singlehood. I scold and dismiss how daft tradition is mouthing off, talking nonsense. I will commit when I'm ripe for the picking, . Her friendly soothsayer (yes, she has one whom she believes...I kid you not!) has opined that 1 of her daughters will find it a challenge to commit. Tough call.
But all that aside, the man-hating stage is over. It was nothing that time couldn't nix and fix. Leonine women love men and try as I might, I cannot and will not be a man-hater. I cannot be told (or asked) to compromise.
Interplay is not idle play. Interaction is not body action. Intercourse isn't simple sexual coupling. (Apparently Gestalt is in again.) And flirting is a skill that involves banter, laughing out loud and jumpstarting the dura mater into activity + a bloke in the periphery for inspiration. Just how bad is that?
Screwed up, scrubbed down and sewn together again...regardless of the kind is what i meant to say, men are men. And men...like women, are the same. All want to be loved, accepted and showered with affection. Sure- the obvious differences aside that will flame an endless debacle may ensue as to which sex reigns supreme, but the inclination for L&A isn't one of them. The matters of the heart encompass gender juxtaposition and provided you are honest, love can never deny you or be denied by you because ultimately, it catches up with you at some point. It is a human desire you can't avoid. And why would you ever want to?
LIFE IS TOO SHORT TO NOT WANT IT ALL.
But celebrate life whether or not you find him.
As for J and to the rest of our throng- No hard feelings. I feel the oomph! for the first time. I am where I should be.
Welcome to my good life!
25.10.08
4P-s
(or 4 Piss-offs)
[Pakshet.]
The penultimate weekend of October carries with it stress with the capital S.
Tricky little sucker of a Saturday, I had to skip the annual winefest in Islington which I really wanted NOT to miss in lieu of 4 stressful Ps--
Pack up for an end of the month moving out
Pasalubong shopping,
Prepping for a presentation and
PMS.
Does it get better than the 4Ps???
Yes it does, because this time next week- I'll be home.
In Pinas.
Nothing but nothing will bring me more pleasure than the sheer enjoyment of a weekend family lunch in Polo Club among other 'very-home-is-where-the-heart-is' things.
Seeing the sun rise and set as I stare outside my bedroom window.
(OH, which reminds me it is officially a working holiday...)
The people I'm meeting were nice enough to book an accommodation for me, but why stay there when I can do so with my family?
I did say I intended to make the most of this trip.
I intend to dirtydance my weekned nights away and not go home till the blasted DJ stops the music and kicks me out of the dancefloor with a note, sing in all-out karaoke bleeding heart fashion (the MagicSing I have in Londres just doesn't have the same feel to it), and have massages with Analyn upon hours on end. Inuman will be part of the equation and it will involve friends and family.
BUT in my put-away heart, I do wish for THAT gift. (It beckons ever so rarely now...but it still does...)
I hope some random thing picks me up and tells me, go and have your time to relax and have a beach weekend. A time to rest your weary soul and just sleep off the stresses of the last year or so. [Wouldn't it be nice if i had George (as in Clooney...or someone equally dashing...) pick me up and take me to the beach.] I just realized that it's been three years since my feet last felt grainy sand and I don't think 2008 is the year of the beach comeback.
I know there will be no surprises for this trip, but this Leonine needs nothing more than to return to her Manilagal roots albeit temporarily.
I can't wait...to be home.
[Pakshet.]
The penultimate weekend of October carries with it stress with the capital S.
Tricky little sucker of a Saturday, I had to skip the annual winefest in Islington which I really wanted NOT to miss in lieu of 4 stressful Ps--
Pack up for an end of the month moving out
Pasalubong shopping,
Prepping for a presentation and
PMS.
Does it get better than the 4Ps???
Yes it does, because this time next week- I'll be home.
In Pinas.
Nothing but nothing will bring me more pleasure than the sheer enjoyment of a weekend family lunch in Polo Club among other 'very-home-is-where-the-heart-is' things.
Seeing the sun rise and set as I stare outside my bedroom window.
(OH, which reminds me it is officially a working holiday...)
The people I'm meeting were nice enough to book an accommodation for me, but why stay there when I can do so with my family?
I did say I intended to make the most of this trip.
I intend to dirtydance my weekned nights away and not go home till the blasted DJ stops the music and kicks me out of the dancefloor with a note, sing in all-out karaoke bleeding heart fashion (the MagicSing I have in Londres just doesn't have the same feel to it), and have massages with Analyn upon hours on end. Inuman will be part of the equation and it will involve friends and family.
BUT in my put-away heart, I do wish for THAT gift. (It beckons ever so rarely now...but it still does...)
I hope some random thing picks me up and tells me, go and have your time to relax and have a beach weekend. A time to rest your weary soul and just sleep off the stresses of the last year or so. [Wouldn't it be nice if i had George (as in Clooney...or someone equally dashing...) pick me up and take me to the beach.] I just realized that it's been three years since my feet last felt grainy sand and I don't think 2008 is the year of the beach comeback.
I know there will be no surprises for this trip, but this Leonine needs nothing more than to return to her Manilagal roots albeit temporarily.
I can't wait...to be home.
11.10.08
wanderwoman (no more)
(The Art'cle Formerly Known As 'Now It Can Be TOLD!!!')
If half a decade ago someone had said to me I'd be living overseas now residing in a flatshare with two testosterone-y housemates who are a decibel short of being sex offenders, I'd be the first to laugh and shake my head in consternation. Truly, the maddening suggestion is out of the effin world. Yet here I am, sitting in Costa Coffee, sipping a skinny latte whilst reading a book, thinking of that almond biscotti I have become accustomed to dipping into my one-and-only caffeine fill on Saturdays. My regular lack of sleep I owe to 2 sets of vampiric sex addicts who are at it at the ungodliest hours of dawn. This is the 'peep show' that is giving me nightmares that I reach for my set of earphones (Godsend!!!) which have become my instant bedmate.
Taking a break as it is a weekend, lost in pensive thoughts and festive in the pleasure of my own company (and with no alter egos in sight!), today I am wondering about the wandering woman-child I was when I landed a year ago. She now seems to have been replaced by a more self-assured woman(-child?) who, still & all, has an endless array of questions and a long, long way to go. But she does have some answers in check. And for the moment, she's good. Chillaxed.
Time has flown rather quickly when I was having London-lllllooooooovin' fun and slowly in the less-than pleasant circumstances. Ahhh such is life! It is as twisty as it is tastefully tainted with the mundane assurances that in it there ain't that many certainties.
I do remember just being overwhelmed by the stark novelty of independent living for the first time. Not everyone gets this and certainly not everyone wants it. A virginal financial derelict. The wuss I was's... no wuss no more! (Suss dat.)
。。。The first time I went househunting and found a shithole that reeked and looked like it still had Jack the Ripper's remains in there somewhere... I recall literally running into the arms of my friend Cin crying about the dastard who showed me a windowless room in the basement and charged 450pcm without batting an eyelash.
。。。So many new concepts became everyday conversation pieces. How was it possible that I am, in one continent, Asian, but here in the UK I am 'properly' called Oriental? My colleague Adele still laughs when I say chips for crisps, and fries for chips. "What are you like Sadrina?" (Truth be told Adele, you've no idea what I'm like...he he he!)
。。。The simple wonders of Brit wordplay will never be lost to me. The Bard and Austen remain dream reads. Like a child left inside a candy store for the first time. The grammar police disappeared and came back a constable in wordy fashion! But in the same breath Brit soaps...ahh the sadness of it all is an idea for immediate airtime recycling.
。。。my eternal obsession (no worries, nothing sexual!) with the tube that became my playground for people-watching. The nightbus I avoid for the infamous real time action that goes on when I choose to indulge in drinking sprees with friends.
。。。I'd say LondonTown found me traipsing in my own reality, dancing in my own rhythmn (blame it on the earphone addiction!!!) the wanna-be-sumkinduva-survivor-superpower in a maelstrom of Tsinayderring-do(?) craziness. That said, my Marco-proof advert for a look-out doubling as a mascot remains unfilled. Must be a polyglot who in some form or other resembles Mr. Clooney! (Riiiiiiiiight.)
My all-time fave colleague Lucy asked me yesterday how I liked Londres now. Hmmm...there are always conflicting arguments to everything. Like it--in terms of? Compared to? What's to like? What's not to like? I realized lately how being away from home means that any place you live in, wherever you are on this bloomin' planet, the moment you're hit with the "You're not on vacation!" mental signage, then it's all the same thing. Same-difference. The more you see, the less surprised you are. And the sooner you realize this, the quicker everything falls into place. It isn't rocket science. But it isn't a simple case of "Ok. Fine. Whatever." either.
Now it can be told-
That I checked my naivete at the warpath and was humble enough to know I didn't know shit... and that set me off onto the path to righteousness. I knew that I had to start somewhere betwixt scum and struggling. Yet somewhere over the transatlantic friendly skies, I decided that this was IT. My second lease on life. My second chance. The one I begged my mom for (yes now it can be told: Leos don't beg, it isn't in our nature...). I got it and I wasn't going to waste it. I was going to do it all by myself and everything in my power to get a shiny SURVIVAL seal with my name on it. Tabula rasa rebooted its system and started a year ago for me. One of the special exceptions. I assure you that I had suffered more than most so I think the entitlement is but fair. I was going to hold on to independence. Hold on and hold fast and never let it slide past my sight. I'm holding on to it a tad tighter with less trepidation.
And now it can be told that 10 days before Christmas 2007, I had 30 quid in my bank account. In the Natwest vestibule, I gave a small, "Gulp!" There it was staring right back at me- '32. 13' to be exact. As in rounded off, three-oh... as in 60 dollars, or about 3000 Pinoy Pesos... a considerable lot...if you were in Pinas. In Londres, 30 quid goes before it comes. I kid you not. That Thursday afternoon I came home panic-stricken and seriously contemplated doing an E.T. phone home to my mom... to tell her I needed moolah. I did it countless times in Pinas and I could do it this one time...right?
But I didn't.
Mobile phone in one hand, my sanity in the other. How far could I go??? I took a long hard look at myself and my life in Londres. Everything I had to my name was in a sunny room in the midst of Fulham. What of it was surprising? Nobody said starting over was easy. I was in a foreign country, it was the Christmas holidays, and I was right smack in the middle of nowhere, deathly homesick and dying of emotional distress.
This never happened to me before...certainly not on Christmas. My memories of Christmas in Pinas were always red and cheery...and warm and filled with festivity. My life up until Londres had been a picture book with all the wonderful colours and the perfectly pasted accoutrements.
Now I was in a country that had no warmth, no sun and no family. The irony of it all made me want to laugh because I didn't want to cry. I wanted this??? Append to that that I was working a sh*t temp job...and payday was a effin' stretch of a week away. I could graze the 30 quid and get by on Tesco tomato soup. But I still needed bus fare that came to 16.20 [Z1/Z2 Weekly Travelcare]. All I could do was take deep breaths and say, "Why are you doing this to yourself Sadrina..." And since I had no answers, I simply chucked it to my already voluminous character building rulebook.
Despite all my friends egging me to phone the only reliable financial helpdesk that would instigate a money transfer (and the service will be free of charge and done with a smile!) in 5 minutes. Yet now it can be told. I do not regret NOT making the phonecall to my mom because I realized what survival meant that fateful day in December. I always wanted to see if I could do it by myself. And that cold, lonely 30-quid December day I realized that I could. True it was less than ideal. But I could. I knew I didn't want family or relatives close by (Thus Londres and not U.S.) and I wouldn't stay with friends, so certainly was not dependent on anyone. It was hard but it was what I wanted. I wasn't rich but I wasn't in London to be rich, was i?
Now it can be told- I was here to exile myself in solitude and deal with all my inner demons and give my soul a good spanking.
And after a year of self-spanking, I am happy to report that I have more than 30 quid in my bank account. [Having said that, I'm saving...period. Nothing more Tsinoy than the trait of thrift.] I work for a good employer and I'm a good employee who gets on with an intercontinental team I have a fine time with. In and out exchanges and office banter are reasonably anecdotal , there is camaraderie and some laughter interspersed in between. There is also arguing and pointing out...just the general accountability and what-not of working in an office that reads like a Benetton advert. It is a happy medium.
You shape your life into what you think counts. My life is no means idyllic at this stage, but my perspective of it has grown in leaps and bounds. I realize through the year-long masochistic exercise that you don't learn till you suffer some. You don't know how good you had it till you got how bad it could be. I faced the bad days as well. I was always well-oiled with perspective and the adage "this too shall pass!" does wonders to my psyche.
The cool Beatle with his long hair and Orientalia fascination was spot-on when he said, "Life is what happens to you when you're too busy making other plans." I've come to the realization that the noteworthy changes in life happen when we're not looking.
The subtle paradox of my life, albeit amorphous at first, slowly solidified right before my eyes and teemed with His obvious (to me at least) hand print. Like in the movie "You've Got Mail," when Katherine meets Joe F-O-X in the end. You know she's meeting the Mr. Right whom she's met a million times before. But despite knowing, your heart gives a jump of glee. The casual "Oh, there you are..." stance she takes when she says ever so wistfully, "I wanted it to be you..." Ever so subtly, it just all came together. In the end. Life came together for me in that similar unsuspecting fashion. Thinking back now, I can't say how. I didn't really get into the razzmatazz details of it all by sitting on a cafe with a checklist (my talent for organization is a creative work in progress!!), but I firmly fixated on the thought that it would all eventually come together for ME. Everything happens for the good of those who believe.
My sabbatical quickly comes to a close. Crunch time comes hither. I can't wait!!!
A year after, I wander no more and see for the first time with different eyes. I'm beginning to see the limitless possibilities of life again. And the richness of experience to back up all that I dream of achieving. I needed the year that was to resit life and iron out all the inconsistencies. Now everything is shiny like new and I see the vast beauty of the years to come. I chucked the remnants of recalcitrance as my psyche needed less of that- What is essential maybe invisible to the eye, but it takes up naked creative space as well. Good chi takes up a great deal of my space. And I welcome it with open arms.
True... nothing comes easy but the defining moments of life, living and the lot isn't when it's clear cut, is it? It's when push comes to shove that you can easily miss what you mustn't! Life is teaching you a hard lesson that you will be able to build on in years to come. It never goes out of its way to announce itself and comes with no trimmings, but should you recognize it at half-step, then hold fast because the significance will far outweigh its unsuspecting arrival. It is the quiet storm that breaks the calm. And will be a breakthrough in hindsight. Your mission is to chose to accept and embrace it when it comes. It is easier said than done. But when done with regularity, life's wisdom nuggets become quite easy to spot.
It's like that. And that's the way it is.
If half a decade ago someone had said to me I'd be living overseas now residing in a flatshare with two testosterone-y housemates who are a decibel short of being sex offenders, I'd be the first to laugh and shake my head in consternation. Truly, the maddening suggestion is out of the effin world. Yet here I am, sitting in Costa Coffee, sipping a skinny latte whilst reading a book, thinking of that almond biscotti I have become accustomed to dipping into my one-and-only caffeine fill on Saturdays. My regular lack of sleep I owe to 2 sets of vampiric sex addicts who are at it at the ungodliest hours of dawn. This is the 'peep show' that is giving me nightmares that I reach for my set of earphones (Godsend!!!) which have become my instant bedmate.
Taking a break as it is a weekend, lost in pensive thoughts and festive in the pleasure of my own company (and with no alter egos in sight!), today I am wondering about the wandering woman-child I was when I landed a year ago. She now seems to have been replaced by a more self-assured woman(-child?) who, still & all, has an endless array of questions and a long, long way to go. But she does have some answers in check. And for the moment, she's good. Chillaxed.
Time has flown rather quickly when I was having London-lllllooooooovin' fun and slowly in the less-than pleasant circumstances. Ahhh such is life! It is as twisty as it is tastefully tainted with the mundane assurances that in it there ain't that many certainties.
I do remember just being overwhelmed by the stark novelty of independent living for the first time. Not everyone gets this and certainly not everyone wants it. A virginal financial derelict. The wuss I was's... no wuss no more! (Suss dat.)
。。。The first time I went househunting and found a shithole that reeked and looked like it still had Jack the Ripper's remains in there somewhere... I recall literally running into the arms of my friend Cin crying about the dastard who showed me a windowless room in the basement and charged 450pcm without batting an eyelash.
。。。So many new concepts became everyday conversation pieces. How was it possible that I am, in one continent, Asian, but here in the UK I am 'properly' called Oriental? My colleague Adele still laughs when I say chips for crisps, and fries for chips. "What are you like Sadrina?" (Truth be told Adele, you've no idea what I'm like...he he he!)
。。。The simple wonders of Brit wordplay will never be lost to me. The Bard and Austen remain dream reads. Like a child left inside a candy store for the first time. The grammar police disappeared and came back a constable in wordy fashion! But in the same breath Brit soaps...ahh the sadness of it all is an idea for immediate airtime recycling.
。。。my eternal obsession (no worries, nothing sexual!) with the tube that became my playground for people-watching. The nightbus I avoid for the infamous real time action that goes on when I choose to indulge in drinking sprees with friends.
。。。I'd say LondonTown found me traipsing in my own reality, dancing in my own rhythmn (blame it on the earphone addiction!!!) the wanna-be-sumkinduva-survivor-superpower in a maelstrom of Tsinayderring-do(?) craziness. That said, my Marco-proof advert for a look-out doubling as a mascot remains unfilled. Must be a polyglot who in some form or other resembles Mr. Clooney! (Riiiiiiiiight.)
My all-time fave colleague Lucy asked me yesterday how I liked Londres now. Hmmm...there are always conflicting arguments to everything. Like it--in terms of? Compared to? What's to like? What's not to like? I realized lately how being away from home means that any place you live in, wherever you are on this bloomin' planet, the moment you're hit with the "You're not on vacation!" mental signage, then it's all the same thing. Same-difference. The more you see, the less surprised you are. And the sooner you realize this, the quicker everything falls into place. It isn't rocket science. But it isn't a simple case of "Ok. Fine. Whatever." either.
Now it can be told-
That I checked my naivete at the warpath and was humble enough to know I didn't know shit... and that set me off onto the path to righteousness. I knew that I had to start somewhere betwixt scum and struggling. Yet somewhere over the transatlantic friendly skies, I decided that this was IT. My second lease on life. My second chance. The one I begged my mom for (yes now it can be told: Leos don't beg, it isn't in our nature...). I got it and I wasn't going to waste it. I was going to do it all by myself and everything in my power to get a shiny SURVIVAL seal with my name on it. Tabula rasa rebooted its system and started a year ago for me. One of the special exceptions. I assure you that I had suffered more than most so I think the entitlement is but fair. I was going to hold on to independence. Hold on and hold fast and never let it slide past my sight. I'm holding on to it a tad tighter with less trepidation.
And now it can be told that 10 days before Christmas 2007, I had 30 quid in my bank account. In the Natwest vestibule, I gave a small, "Gulp!" There it was staring right back at me- '32. 13' to be exact. As in rounded off, three-oh... as in 60 dollars, or about 3000 Pinoy Pesos... a considerable lot...if you were in Pinas. In Londres, 30 quid goes before it comes. I kid you not. That Thursday afternoon I came home panic-stricken and seriously contemplated doing an E.T. phone home to my mom... to tell her I needed moolah. I did it countless times in Pinas and I could do it this one time...right?
But I didn't.
Mobile phone in one hand, my sanity in the other. How far could I go??? I took a long hard look at myself and my life in Londres. Everything I had to my name was in a sunny room in the midst of Fulham. What of it was surprising? Nobody said starting over was easy. I was in a foreign country, it was the Christmas holidays, and I was right smack in the middle of nowhere, deathly homesick and dying of emotional distress.
This never happened to me before...certainly not on Christmas. My memories of Christmas in Pinas were always red and cheery...and warm and filled with festivity. My life up until Londres had been a picture book with all the wonderful colours and the perfectly pasted accoutrements.
Now I was in a country that had no warmth, no sun and no family. The irony of it all made me want to laugh because I didn't want to cry. I wanted this??? Append to that that I was working a sh*t temp job...and payday was a effin' stretch of a week away. I could graze the 30 quid and get by on Tesco tomato soup. But I still needed bus fare that came to 16.20 [Z1/Z2 Weekly Travelcare]. All I could do was take deep breaths and say, "Why are you doing this to yourself Sadrina..." And since I had no answers, I simply chucked it to my already voluminous character building rulebook.
Despite all my friends egging me to phone the only reliable financial helpdesk that would instigate a money transfer (and the service will be free of charge and done with a smile!) in 5 minutes. Yet now it can be told. I do not regret NOT making the phonecall to my mom because I realized what survival meant that fateful day in December. I always wanted to see if I could do it by myself. And that cold, lonely 30-quid December day I realized that I could. True it was less than ideal. But I could. I knew I didn't want family or relatives close by (Thus Londres and not U.S.) and I wouldn't stay with friends, so certainly was not dependent on anyone. It was hard but it was what I wanted. I wasn't rich but I wasn't in London to be rich, was i?
Now it can be told- I was here to exile myself in solitude and deal with all my inner demons and give my soul a good spanking.
And after a year of self-spanking, I am happy to report that I have more than 30 quid in my bank account. [Having said that, I'm saving...period. Nothing more Tsinoy than the trait of thrift.] I work for a good employer and I'm a good employee who gets on with an intercontinental team I have a fine time with. In and out exchanges and office banter are reasonably anecdotal , there is camaraderie and some laughter interspersed in between. There is also arguing and pointing out...just the general accountability and what-not of working in an office that reads like a Benetton advert. It is a happy medium.
You shape your life into what you think counts. My life is no means idyllic at this stage, but my perspective of it has grown in leaps and bounds. I realize through the year-long masochistic exercise that you don't learn till you suffer some. You don't know how good you had it till you got how bad it could be. I faced the bad days as well. I was always well-oiled with perspective and the adage "this too shall pass!" does wonders to my psyche.
The cool Beatle with his long hair and Orientalia fascination was spot-on when he said, "Life is what happens to you when you're too busy making other plans." I've come to the realization that the noteworthy changes in life happen when we're not looking.
The subtle paradox of my life, albeit amorphous at first, slowly solidified right before my eyes and teemed with His obvious (to me at least) hand print. Like in the movie "You've Got Mail," when Katherine meets Joe F-O-X in the end. You know she's meeting the Mr. Right whom she's met a million times before. But despite knowing, your heart gives a jump of glee. The casual "Oh, there you are..." stance she takes when she says ever so wistfully, "I wanted it to be you..." Ever so subtly, it just all came together. In the end. Life came together for me in that similar unsuspecting fashion. Thinking back now, I can't say how. I didn't really get into the razzmatazz details of it all by sitting on a cafe with a checklist (my talent for organization is a creative work in progress!!), but I firmly fixated on the thought that it would all eventually come together for ME. Everything happens for the good of those who believe.
My sabbatical quickly comes to a close. Crunch time comes hither. I can't wait!!!
A year after, I wander no more and see for the first time with different eyes. I'm beginning to see the limitless possibilities of life again. And the richness of experience to back up all that I dream of achieving. I needed the year that was to resit life and iron out all the inconsistencies. Now everything is shiny like new and I see the vast beauty of the years to come. I chucked the remnants of recalcitrance as my psyche needed less of that- What is essential maybe invisible to the eye, but it takes up naked creative space as well. Good chi takes up a great deal of my space. And I welcome it with open arms.
True... nothing comes easy but the defining moments of life, living and the lot isn't when it's clear cut, is it? It's when push comes to shove that you can easily miss what you mustn't! Life is teaching you a hard lesson that you will be able to build on in years to come. It never goes out of its way to announce itself and comes with no trimmings, but should you recognize it at half-step, then hold fast because the significance will far outweigh its unsuspecting arrival. It is the quiet storm that breaks the calm. And will be a breakthrough in hindsight. Your mission is to chose to accept and embrace it when it comes. It is easier said than done. But when done with regularity, life's wisdom nuggets become quite easy to spot.
It's like that. And that's the way it is.
3.10.08
Vie's Sushi boy friday
My colleague befriended the cute (or so she says!) Sushi guy she went to every Friday. Twas a stone's throw from where we worked and because I was so busy today, I couldn't go with her and she came back with a note!
Sweet of him to care and get 'attached' . . .
2.10.08
To my long lost 'friend'
It was nice touching base with you. Truly. I can't believe I met you when I was 13! Un-effin'-believable!
In the long years that I've been single (by choice & by principle!), I have met men, many of whom I've become confidantes with. I don't mean pillow-talk confidantes okay?
Just to point out, these men are really just friends over drinks and dinner talking about life in general.
MEN, of varying ages, sizes and affiliations (players, realists, settlers among others.)
Small but smart,
Tall but jockish,
Spoiled & (eternally) arrogant,
The humble millionaire,
The name-dropper,
The late-bloomer,
The one with the Peter Pan syndrome,
The forever substance abuser...oh, you get the picture.
Which category do you fall into? (another blatant inquisition).
I am just straightforward but rest assured, I reserve judgment for the lot of people who deserve no less. I've learned the hard way how it was to be misjudged, so I don't indulge in the very tempting feast of double standard rumormongering so rampant in Pinas.
On my end, I have had initial attraction that bloomed into friendship, or interest that wilted into disinterest, friendships that I decided were better left as... and even some rather strange incidents since I've landed in Londres.
I've come to see men as the perfect friends, I was a tomboy for a long time so make up talk and fashion after 15 minutes does not make much sense to me.
All that aside, I've come to believe that trust + unconditional love + care/concern are all ingredients. But I've also come to believe that laughter, friendship and the *WOOT* factor are just as essential.
Who was it that said, ''...after the fall, must come the RISE?"
Wise words indeed! I think some people are just scared to be alone, more than anything. I think I passed the stage with flying colors when London was declared the hardest city to survive in. I think I like myself more and I've dealt with my sort of 'hard' past.
Good that you don't worry about the romantic stuff, but I hope you haven't relegated it as an impossibility! Just think it's better to be single for the right reasons than to be with someone for all the wrong ones. Nothing lonelier than waking up next to someone who's wrong for you.
So to full-on passion and drinking it in... with the pulps!!!
In the long years that I've been single (by choice & by principle!), I have met men, many of whom I've become confidantes with. I don't mean pillow-talk confidantes okay?
Just to point out, these men are really just friends over drinks and dinner talking about life in general.
MEN, of varying ages, sizes and affiliations (players, realists, settlers among others.)
Small but smart,
Tall but jockish,
Spoiled & (eternally) arrogant,
The humble millionaire,
The name-dropper,
The late-bloomer,
The one with the Peter Pan syndrome,
The forever substance abuser...oh, you get the picture.
Which category do you fall into? (another blatant inquisition).
I am just straightforward but rest assured, I reserve judgment for the lot of people who deserve no less. I've learned the hard way how it was to be misjudged, so I don't indulge in the very tempting feast of double standard rumormongering so rampant in Pinas.
On my end, I have had initial attraction that bloomed into friendship, or interest that wilted into disinterest, friendships that I decided were better left as... and even some rather strange incidents since I've landed in Londres.
I've come to see men as the perfect friends, I was a tomboy for a long time so make up talk and fashion after 15 minutes does not make much sense to me.
All that aside, I've come to believe that trust + unconditional love + care/concern are all ingredients. But I've also come to believe that laughter, friendship and the *WOOT* factor are just as essential.
Who was it that said, ''...after the fall, must come the RISE?"
Wise words indeed! I think some people are just scared to be alone, more than anything. I think I passed the stage with flying colors when London was declared the hardest city to survive in. I think I like myself more and I've dealt with my sort of 'hard' past.
Good that you don't worry about the romantic stuff, but I hope you haven't relegated it as an impossibility! Just think it's better to be single for the right reasons than to be with someone for all the wrong ones. Nothing lonelier than waking up next to someone who's wrong for you.
So to full-on passion and drinking it in... with the pulps!!!
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