I won’t write about New Year’s Resolutions. Call me lazy, jaded, arrogant. Call me anything you want but for me, somehow, New Year’s Resolutions have predictable life cycles...

• Nearing the end of the year you start thinking about what happened to your year and what you want to change.
• You make a list... mental, written, typed...of the things you want to “happen” or “do” or “change” the following year.
• You start your year all excited, adamant, and optimistic that things you want to happen, do, and/or change will happen.
• This excitement, determination and optimism goes on for a couple of weeks.
• Within 30 days you realize you can’t make a 100% commitment and then you go back to your “old” self, breaking your resolutions, but making justifications.
• Then you feel guilty and start to follow your resolutions the next 60 days.
• But then you forget following it because of the rat race.
• Six months later the “ber” season is about to start again and then you remember that you had some new years resolution.
• Convinced it’s not too late you try to work on it again (if you still remember what you resolved to do).
• But then you forget again a week after.
• And then Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas happen and then you get too caught up by parties and shopping lists that you completely have shelved your New Year’s resolution.
• By the end of Christmas you realize a the New Year is just a week away and then you start feeling guilty again and start a mental list of what you want to change for the next year.
• But then come to think of it your previous New Year’s Resolution is very similar to the mental list you are already making.

Yes, maybe I am cynical. But I prefer to think that my brain is simple and cannot handle any mental lists. So long ago I decided it’s best for me if I realize I want to do or change something in me I do it immediately. Saves me the hassle of remembering.

But then, writing this made me realize I actually have a new year's resolution. That is not to have one.

You know how it is when someone tells you a story and you think you get it but you don’t? 

Or when someone tells you a joke and you laugh but you can’t really relate?

Hmmm or maybe you can’t really relate to what I’m saying right now... But anyway, I just had that experience when I think I had an idea what she is saying but the truth is I didn’t. 

I can’t really give her a name. Or maybe I should to make my typing easier...okay, so her name will be FRENEMY. She used to be my roomy. USED being the operative word.

The first time I got here Frenemy’s like nice and accommodating the first two weeks and then afterwards she bitched at me and said a lot of nasty and mean things about moi. I think she did not approve of my sleeping habits as she is a light sleeper but she could’ve approached me and talked to me politely and not confront me at 11:30 in the evening.

Her bitching I can handle actually but she started telling the folks here at Big Brother’s House lies about me and even getting angry at Mai for being friends with me. Oy, so highschool. I don’t really like being stabbed (who does?!?) and back stabbing is one of the things that when you do to me I chuck you out of my “friends” list and do not give a damn about you anymore. Like seriously. If you back stab me or you lie or basically just break my trust and you are not blood related then you can die or be dying and I won’t really give a shit about you. 

Now I made a promise to myself that I will not give her a gift come Christmas. And if she gave me one I wouldn’t even touch it. After all she is not the first girlfriend I had which I ditched. An former close friend who stole my boyfriend had to ask for forgiveness for two years so this won’t be so hard anymore. It’s just a matter of getting used to.

Come to think of though, that former close friend is now back as my friend. After two years I forgave her. And I suppose a part of me have changed. Even if it seems much more comfortable being angry or unconcerned about my enemies a part of me is tired of all the angst and loneliness. I have become such a weakling. Plain. Romantic.

On Christmas eve we had a party at home and of course we had secret Santa for kicks. We started giving out presents to each other too. I must admit, I was ambivalent if I should give her a gift. I had a box that did not had anyone’s name. And if I didn’t give her any, well... I’m sure she wasn’t expecting any gift or any thing from me. But when I looked from the corner of my eye at her she had this face about her looked like a little girl in front of a candy store waiting for someone to hand her a gummy bear or a tootsie roll.  She was watching while Jacq gave out her presents and she looked like she was expecting one too! I wanted to laugh wickedly but instead of laughing my mind jolted me with a decision that I will give her the one box I wrapped but didn’t put a tag on.

Sparing even myself the boring details of what happened (of course she was shocked and happy), the interesting part happened the day after while I was perched on my bed working. But the truth is I don’t really know what how to write what happened. She came into the room, sat on my bed, and started telling me that everything is okay between her and me. There was a part in her speech that made her tear up and sniffle and I had to go grab some tissue. And as the minutes drag on and she kept on saying stuff to me which my simple mind cannot grasp a part of me was telling myself that maybe this is her way to resolve our conflict without having to say “I’m sorry”. 

But I’m sort of confused if what she said was an apology or she forgave me which would be weird if it were the a latter because she started it and I that I really want to hear is she’s sorry not some sad tale about the telenovela of a life she had and I better stop thinking about it or I’d be whiney again. Just eat my cake without any prissiness. I guess.

I suppose even if love does not beget love all the time, the times that it does it’s worth it. So maybe in a few weeks from now she’ll bitch at me again but for now I’m pretty pleased the pink hoodie was an appropriate white flag...

Three hundred sixty-five days ago I was frolicking in Boracay gunning Bacardi 151 and margaritas. 

Instead of white sand and shot glasses I am surrounded by snow and 6% liquor. 

Nothing is the same and yet everything is the same. 

I am still pensive and often trapped in my thoughts only I am in a different place and time.

I am still loving the same person only I am more careful and not hopeful anymore.

I am still prudent around the people around me but want to start new relationships also.

I am still wary of children however they are drawn to me and want to touch my face.

I am still insecure of my flaws yet I am growing confident as I age.

I don’t really know how things will be from now. I have given up fighting things and have decided I will choose to enjoy life to the fullest in a way that it won’t harm me or hurt others. Maybe I will get what my heart longs for. Maybe I'd have better luck in love and work. But I know it's not just up to fate. I have to be wiser to listen to my heart. I have to be trusting to listen to my God.

If I hear her say “I deserve to have the weekends off because I’ve worked for them for four years” one more time I will bash her head with a coffee pot!

Okay, maybe bashing is too much. Bashing is violent and will get my nice butt on a plane with the words “DEPORTED” on my passport. But everytime I hear her say “I deserve it” I see red and I just want to slap her for saying those words (O-kaaay! Slapping is violent too!!!)

I hate. Hate. HATE. HATE those words. 

I remember having dinner with him (like one of the last few we had before I left) and the girl taking our order didn’t acknowledge him when he asked for a glass of ice (and I think she was snippy at him also). He doesn’t like to be treated that way because he thinks it’s poor customer service (I concur!) so he talked to her condescendingly and he even raised his voice like two decibels higher. When she came back with our orders, including the glass with ice, he didn't say thank you so I asked him why. He looked at me with one eyebrow raised and said in a straightforward, self-righteous manner, “She didn’t deserve it.” I think the people at the other table heard my gasp because at the corner of my eye I can see them looking at me and then him and then me like they were expecting a plate would be flying to his direction.

“She didn’t deserve it!” “I deserve it!” Hello!?! 

Who are we to say who deserves what and that we deserve something?!? Seriously! Can you tell me if any of us deserve anything? Every day, the number of humans increase by approximately 200,000. Out of these 200,000...

- not all live

- some have genetic defects

- most are born poor and middle class

- some are abandoned 

- some grow up abused and neglected

If from the very beginning these innocent babies do not get the best in anything and everything then who are we to claim that we deserve anything?!? We do not even deserve to be born or be humans but we are and we get what is given to us. No matter how much we give we will get only what is given to us. Whether it’s love, wealth, power, position, or anything our heart desire.

There are millions of people who eat only once a day, do not have a roof over their head, cannot get a proper education, cannot even have a clean drinking water, and experience heart-wrenching hardships in their lives. You who have a job --- a job you don’t really need, a job that does not require you to sell your body, a job that does not require you to cheat others --- isn’t that enough for you to be thankful and grateful? 

So spare me if I cannot swallow your bullshit that you deserve it. Don’t expect me to be sympathetic that you deserve the best work schedule in the world because I left my country, suffer your cold weathers, walk to work, consorted to eat pork because your city do not have any decent seafood, live and adjust to the moods of four people not even blood related to me. And you do not hear me grousing about this to you, do you?! So shut your trap please and get back to work. 

I read this comment written on my previous post over and over my eyes blurred. What can I say? Sure... perhaps. A part of me will grow back after going through the motions of being loved off, ignored, loved off some more, used, loved off a bit less, torn apart, loved one-sidedly, dumped, loved partially, mauled. Yeah sure, perhaps time do heal wounds and I will be able to restore whatever was lost or cut off or broken up. 

But as usual, my split personalities started another round at this topic.

“Hope. It is the quintessential human delusion, simultaneously the source of your greatest strength and your greatest weakness.” This echoed in my head in the voice of the Architect. So I paused to mull over it. Is there really any point in hoping that these would transpire? That some day I will stop hurting or being hurt? Or that I will find the One... that one true person who would love me unconditionally and not necessarily just the Man who was nailed on the cross for my sins? What is the whole point at it anyway? 

I decided that I won’t dwell much into those thoughts. I’ve been there before. I know how lethal thoughts like those can be to me. I still have scars that remind me and looking at the white lines on my arms made me remember what happens when I stop hoping. So perhaps Hope can be a human delusion. It turns to an illusion if one does not know where the hope is anchored on. 

But as I kept on thinking about it, I realized that it’s not the question of whether I will be loved or why am I not being loved that I should answer. The more important question is, why do I want to be loved? I know I give everything in each of my romantic relationships that in the course of the relationship I am left with nothing. I find this bothersome and quite suspicious. No one is good enough or self-sacrificing enough that he or she would give so much. Sweet sure...but quite strange for me. 

Perhaps I give so much because I want to receive so much too. Perhaps I give so much because I don’t want to lose that person or that feeling of belonging to someone. Perhaps I give so much because deep inside I am wishing that that person will be the one who will fill the emptiness inside. These are sad, pathetic, and seriously bothersome reasons. How can I expect to have a flourishing relationship when I am not even sensible enough to understand where my emotions are coming from?!? Shit. Shit. Shit.

I am confronted again with Pandora’s Box. Here we go again. I can’t run far without being stumbled by it. I must settle it eventually. But I then doing that means dredging so much painful memories. But if I don't do it then I will end up in a cycle of pain and hurt. So do I run away and try my luck hoping my next relationship won’t be like the rest I had? Or just go back to the past and deal with it now? 

...

My logical side is telling me that it is easier if I stick knife to my heart. No darkening of sight by the edges, no coldness, no palpitations. But I can’t do it. It’s to messy and traumatic for my housemates. Besides, I can’t escape. I won’t escape. If I am going to die today, I might as well dying for a reason and it damn better be the right reasons!

~o~

I’ve been thinking, since the the other night. Since the night T said those words. I’ve been thinking in between waking up and forcing myself to sleep. I’ve been thinking while I let my tears stream unabashedly down my face mixing with the hot droplets of water falling from the shower. I’ve been thinking every person who hurted me so badly I wanted to watch them die. There was the guy who raped me when I was seventeen. The moron ex-boyfriend who cheated on me with my close friend (those bastards!). The cousin who would masturbate just eight feet away from me hidden only by a thin door curtain. The uncle of my mom who fondled me. The old bosses who back-stabbed me. My anger was making me scrub my arm harder than usual as I took a shower. Perverts! Assholes! Fuckers! Each face was registering on my face and it took sometime for me to realize my left arm was as angry with me as mean red streak revealed itself. As I inspect my arm two faces registered immediately in my face. And they popped in my mind the same time. The bottom two in my hate list.

How astonishing. Him & T, whom I both considered my best friends, are in the same list as sex offenders, cheaters, emotional blackmailers, power-hungry ,and depraved men. I continued the task of scrubbing and this time I moved to my elbow while my mind continued to look at their faces with wonder. In my mind their faces seemed like I can touch it which I did. I touched his face first. 

A series of memories started to cascade. The first time I saw him. Me sitting at Julia’s eating while he was playing the guitar. Him giving my the Orange & Lemon CD and me gushing because he looked like one of the band players. Him breaking up with me telling me that he wanted to be free as I stomped angrily away asking my former manager if I can leave early. Him waking me up telling me to eat breakfast he brought. Him holding my hand as we drove to the lighthouse. It was like watching a movie. So much more memories flitted in my mind. Until it ended at the airport... me hugging him and him hugging me as I am pushed forward by people going inside to have their luggage go through the x-ray machine and when it was about my time I looked around and saw his very sad face like someone he loved died. 

And then I touched T’s face.

Another flashback. Me hearing his voice the first time. Me seeing him the first time with a big scowl on his face. Me looking into his eyes and shocked to see it green and wondering if there was gold in it. Being amazed the first time I saw him laugh and mean it. Touring Cebu and taking silly pictures. Drinking with Johann and all the time can’t get my mind of the kiss he gave me. Receiving a cute card with a puppy on my birthday. Sharing popcorn while watching a movie. Me pushing him to do what he initially wanted to do which is to be a gigolo. Video conferences about each other’s day. And then seeing him smile as he said “I wish I was there with you.”

Now I’m confused. How in the world did these two people end up in my hate list?!? All day I can hear the voices in my head sparring. Zoloft, my Zoloft where art thou my Zoloft. My head is so noisy I can’t hear myself talk aloud. The angry, bitter, and spiteful woman in me argued that both of them used me to their own advantage like sexual, ego, comfort which made them deserving to be in the list. But the reasonable (or insane, I think) part of me was saying I am old enough to make a choice, I allowed them to hurt me, ergo, I must be responsible enough to accept my fault and stop thrashing them.

The reasonable voice in my head continued to talk in me, “What they did to me was painful. Sure. Booo hooo hooo. But that is love. That’s relationships. That is life. It is quite inevitable that people will hurt people. But it is up to me to allow when and how I am hurt. And the hurt they have inflicted is not really comparable to those others. Besides... you knew from the very beginning both of them were not meant to be for you.” It makes sense. It does. But my wounded pride would not be defeated so easily. I argued if I am not good enough for them. Are they so perfect that they think that they are the easiest to understand? Is it not unfair that they ask so much when they give so little? But as questions and angry retaliations thundered in my head I tried to evade my own thoughts. I do not want to hear the reply to my questions because I know what it will say... “Make right the wrong.” 

The day continued uneventful but when my head hit the pillow and I slowly lull myself to sleep a passage is whispered in my heart. Something very familiar and very true. And as my mind listened to the truth in the passage my pride melted and in turn I was gripped with horror. I have lost my two closest friends. My selfishness will leave me with no one. Where is my head?!? How can I put them in a list reserved for people I wanted to see dead! I regret a few things in life and this is one that will be with the other few I would regret.

I know that when I wake up I am to make right the wrong. No matter the price I pay.

~o~

And so I started a vigil and waited for T. I had to chat him and pray to the God of big and small things he will talk to me. It’s a difficult task as when he got online he refused to talk to me. And when he finally did talk to me what I did not know was that chatting T would be close to slow death. I don’t know why as my fingers type my messages to him and read his reply I was feeling more light headed because my breath is getting shorter and quicker by the second. I rummaged around to look for a bag. A paper bag at that point would’ve been really handy except there are no paper bag in the room. Only boxes and wrapper with a smiling Santa and red ribbons with gold stars on it. Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I am going to lose my closest friend and I won’t be able to greet him Merry Christmas on Christmas Eve! And I can’t breathe anymore as panic grips my heart so I very very much think I will die before I even finish wrapping my Christmas presents!

~o~

‘Tis hard. Making right the wrong is not just saying sorry to T (I don’t think I have to say sorry to him. I don’t think he really cares about me anymore to be hurt by what I wrote... but... erhmm... argh! FINE!). Making right the wrong means waiting for the the one for me and not jumping into relationships that hurt me. Making right the wrong means trusting the Author about my life and not making judgement calls out of whims, desires, fantasies, what ifs. Making right the wrong means me having to do spring cleaning and taking garbage out --- take a hard look in my life and change inside out. How I will manage it, I don’t know yet. But I know this, I don’t have much time because my life is passing every moment and I don’t want to look back five years, three years, or even one year from now and wonder why the three hundred and sixty-five days in my life are meaningless. I do not have the strength and the will anymore to pay the price of being a pig-head.

Some time ago I met T who’s fun, witty, and cocky (whatever!). 

Now T and I are completely different. He’s vegan and I loved eating everything. He's at Austin and I was in the Philippines. He's into gambling and I won't even touch a dice. He wanted to be a gigolo, I was done playing games and wanted a substantial relationship (marriage? maybe... not really sure). I’m sure you get the picture.

But despite the warning bells in my head, we hit it off pretty well. His green eyes and a charming smile got me spellbound.

Of course he ended up hurting me. But then even if had hurt me me before we continued to chat and flirt. He is just to fun to pass up. A month ago he proposed to visit me here. Now my previous experiences have made me afraid of him already. Despite my fears I continued to argue with myself and defend him from the part of me that wants me not to see him. Being a trooper, I said okay and he set a date of February 13. Oh wow, a day before Valentine’s Day.  

Now that I’m all looking forward to seeing him he tells me that he is now looking for a substantial relationship. He does not want to be a player anymore. All the time he was saying these things about having changed my mind went on RedAlert. I knew what he would be saying would not be something I would like to rehash over and over but my mind would anyway after like stupid HBO reruns. Then he hits me hard with lines like “if I find somebody here between now and February I won’t be able to see you in February”. Excuse me?!? 

The only words that formed in my head was “I’m not your toy you just play with when you don’t have new toys or friends to spend time with.” But I could not bring myself to say that. Instead I ended up crying like I use to whenever someone hurts me much (I’m a WUSS!). Good thing iChat had an error that saved me from having to hang up or worse ---- being hanged up on!

So now I have to forget what he said. Which is not really possible because I’m too pissed to forget. But being pissed with him would make it easier to walk away and burn bridges. 

Sigh.

Another guy to put on my hate list.

Big Brother’s Housemates are making so much bruhaha over the coming days. It is getting to be intimidating. Especially on Monday when temperature will drop to minus ten. When I go to bed tonight I will wake up with snow falling from the grey skies and my boots crunching on it while I walk praying I don’t slip. 

As they continue to chatter about it I was brought back the day I was giving Marian a massage. We were talking about how cold this country is. I know where I am at is not as cold as other places (like Yellowknife or Edmonton or Great Lakes) but it is still cold for our Asian bodies. Canada is such as vast country also that we can’t find fresh fish or meat in the grocery. Everything is frozen like my bum. 

Marian said something that made me think, “It’s odd that our country is not prosperous when we have the best climate, fertile land, abundant resources.” I do not want to become like some Filipinos who just because they reached a different country would give my homeland an upturned nose. But I can’t help myself but agree with her. I scratch my head also and wonder. 

But the question to ask is really not “Why?” but “Now that I’ve realized it, what can I do to make things happen?” It would take every ounce of strength to avoid being selfish and insensitive. The three life goals I’ve set are cemented more into my conscience. I cannot allow myself to just shrug my shoulder and not take any responsibility.

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul. 

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Hello. 

Asking how have you been would be totally out of place. After what I have seen and read, I know you are more than okay. 

It’s stupid really why I have such neurosis over you. You who made me cry so much before. You who treated me like a disposable toy. You who promised to love me 'til I turn forty but wasn't able to even treat me right until I cheated on you. 

The right thing to say is “Wow! I am happy for you.” But I can’t say that. Not yet anyway. At this moment all I want to do is hurl something at your face for fucking me around when you never could commit anymore. I wish I should have kicked you out of my room when you said “I want you to remember me with happy memories”. FUCK THAT SHIT! It made me just cling to you more and allowed you to use me more. I want to hurt myself for allowing you to come into deep when some hunch told me already that you’ll just hurt me in the end. As always. Like before. I know that happiness is my choice. And I am happy. But when I remember you and dating so soon my heart bleeds.

Some jilted bitch once said “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”. I will, with the best of my efforts, not tread that path. So before I say all the nasty things I wanted to say, I want to tell you this: from the moment I decided to love you again last March until this very day I have loved you with all honesty waiting for you to love and forgive me and take me as I am. But since I know you will never forgive me, I am comforted with the fact that at least it is over between you and I. Before I get pregnant. Before the vows. Before years of investments. Before I petition you to come here. Before I cry some more.

Thanks for the pictures I’ve seen in Friendster. Thanks for the words I’ve read there too. Thanks for letting me see how selfish, egomaniacal and vindictive you are. Thanks for not taking me back, I don’t want to stay anymore anyway. Thanks for letting me see how masochistic, self-flagellating, pathetic I have become clinging to illusions about you. 

Hopefully soon, my heart will heal. When my head hits the pillow I will think of someone else. But for now it’s not yet there. Even though... this one I mean from the bottom of my heart... Enjoy your new fuck because I’m not coming back for you anymore.

I find myself biking again. After years of swearing off riding any two-wheeled vehicle here I am biking almost everyday. 

I’ve learned to love hot showers and now cold water makes my stomach jump.

I’ve gotten the habit of pressing F12 on my Mac the moment I get out of bed. With one button I’d know how cold it is and how many layers do I have to wear for work.

Scarves, hats, sweaters, turtlenecks, gloves and down-filled jackets are essentials now in my wardrobe. Stilettos are no longer the must have for me.

I finally was able to watch a snowfall.

Lately I find myself wanting to write. It’s just difficult to string sentences together though. Too much is happening too fast and before I knew it the day is over and I have to get up again to take a hot shower and dress up for work. Having two jobs isn’t fun. But I feel it’s a waste if I let go of my previous job since the dollar exchange rate is quite high lately. So I spend time making double doubles during the day and bike home to do audits online. Blogging has taken the back seat and even as I type furiously tonight I doubt if I will finish this in a few minutes as I am way past bed time. But I am writing. Except I have been creating gazillions of drafts and I hope this one makes it through and gets online.

A couple of weeks ago, me, Mai and Arnie went to The Bay to window shop. On the way home we passed by a couple of Filipinos. Now this isn’t the first time that I have seen Filipinos here. But stories shared by Mai has made me wary of smiling at fellow Filipinos because they do not usually smile back. So I let them pass and as usual when I was walking side by side with Mai she shared that she smiled at them and they just gave her a once over look. Tough.

Then there’s my former room mate here. The first time I met her, I knew she didn’t like me. Heck, three out of four of my housemates already didn’t like me even before they met me. I was the last one to arrive and my then room mate, who has the biggest room, is stuck with me. It’s funny coz she had all the words and the smile and the actions that would make it seem like she was genuinely friendly and not actually keeping her deep dark angst towards me the moment I arrived. She’s way too passive aggressive.

Now another gay Filipino who've I've recently met has astounded me with his lack of manners. He borrows money from people he just met, opens his host's fridge when he visits, assumes he can use my computer anytime even going inside my room while I am alone sleeping, assumes he can boss around anyone, and has the foulest and loudest mouth I have heard so far. His narcissism is sickening I find it tiring to be around him.

Before coming to this country and city I was scared of the change but then my old “you go girl!” attitude came over me and I was pretty excited and confident I could wing it in this country. But now that I am here I realize that there is another coldness that I find overwhelmingly difficult. The coldness of the Filipinos I’ve met is far cruel than the wind or winter. You would expect that we would cling on each other for support and encouragement and a genuine relationship. But after the fake smiles of initial introductions reality bites and the trivial things make us be at each other’s throats or tittle tattle at one another. 

With all the wars in the world, I’ve mellowed and try to avoid cat fights or bickers. I’ve learned that I can always walk away when I’m angry or hurt. I’ve learned that after all the angry words said to me I don’t need to retaliate and the kindest thing I can do to save my face and avoid cutting another is to close my mouth and turn my back. In retrospect, my professor is right. Only humans are capable of hurting for no apparent reason.

But as I've mellowed I cling to a small string of hope that I will find real friends here. Maybe they'll be Canadians or Natives or Filipinos or German or whatever nationality or sexual preference. As long as I can honestly say they respect and love me and I the same.

I know I haven’t been blogging. Sorry. Time seemed to move fast forward the past few weeks. Two weeks ago I was moping and scared of moving and now I am here in Kelowna, British Columbia missing the sun and the easiness of life and my friends and him. Moving is inevitable so I have been fighting my sadness by taking walks and discovering the place and at the same time getting drunk with the beauty of late autumn and the being amazed by the cleanliness of the city.

C’est la vie.

Moving here is a 180 degree turn. No more jeep or cab flagging. No more cheap salons. No more tanduay or perspiration. Even the fastfood places are different (service folks in KFC & McDees do not wear hairnets and look really sloppy). The biggest adjustment for me is the cold. Since I walk 10 minutes from the house to work, I find my extremities numb and cold when I get to work or back at home. And winter is just about to start. In a few weeks (not days, I hope) the snow will fall and I will suffer in coldness some more and my skin will dry some more. My cousin, Ianne, is a BIG help in teaching me what to wear and I hope she is right that I will acclimatize soon. That way I will stop grumbling and enjoy going out and focus on more important things like learning the bus routes, doing groceries, going to the lake and raiding thrift shops and going skating and going to the movies. There are a lot of fun things to do, but getting used to the temperature is priority.

I want to write some more but I think the heater is broken. I’m going to snuggle between my warm sheets and have Kermie stare at me to sleep. Cold cold go away, come again another day.

Like everything in life I am thrust into suddenness. One minute I was having dinner and laughter with Diz and the next minute I get a call that my Visa has been approved and I am on my way to Canada by October 22. She felt a tad bad that I was leaving when we were just starting our friendship but then she was also excited that a big change was coming. For me, all I cared was going home and trying out my new titanium hair iron.

Five days later I am in the midst of a tumultuous room where my clothes, shoes, books, toiletries, sheets, bags and everything are in complete chaos each wanting to jump into my luggage and not in the propped balikbayan boxes to be carted off for a rummage. And then there are other things to attend to like seminars, shopping for winter clothes, driving lessons, last minute office transitions, and more sleep deprivation. 

Moving to Canada is no longer fun. I am pulled in different places all at once and while everyone is excited for me I am left behind doing all the preparing and packing and stuffing and segregating and disposing and sealing and boxing and everything else I have never done before in my life. But like all the years there is one thing that has never changed... I am doing all these things without my family close by. Like all the years I am going through the changes all by myself.

For the first time in my life I am afraid. What if I fail their expectations? What if I get sick? What if no one will like me? What if I can’t make it? While self-doubt engulf me I stare at my room full of mess and sob. I feel I cannot do this. I feel I cannot do this alone. I send a message to Tanduay girl asking if she is busy. I need her. I need someone to listen to my broken heart. I need someone to give me strength right now. In the midst of my sobs I hear myself cry out, “I cannot do this God. I cannot do this all by myself. I need your comfort. I need your strength. I need you right now as my friend.”

As my tears fade and peace slowly envelope me. I looked at my empty luggage, unzipped it and started putting my favorite blanket in it. It is a long journey, it is a big change. But I know I will live through it. I know I will prosper. For my hope does not lie on wealth or man. My hope lies on the God of big and small things.

Something always brings me back to you. It never takes too long.
No matter what I say or do I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone.

You hold me without touch. You keep me without chains.
I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your rain.

Set me free, leave me be.
I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.
Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be.
But you're on to me and all over me.

You loved me 'cause I'm fragile. When I thought that I was strong.
But you touch me for a little while and all my fragile strength is gone.

Set me free, leave me be.
I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity.
Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be.
But you're on to me and all over me.

I live here on my knees as I try to make you see that you're
everything I think I need here on the ground.
But you're neither friend nor foe though I can't seem to let you go.
The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down.

You’re on to me, you’re on to me and all over…
Something always brings me back to you. It never takes too long.

I have been catching up on Kitty Kat’s blog. A nineteen year old’s blog of things she wants to say out loud but never could. Or I think, she never would. 

Most of the time she hides her emotions in a mask of apathy. Usually emotions brought on by words of the General. And while I feel her angst and helplessness I have nothing to give her but a smile as we web cam. Not even a hug or a simple gesture to hold her hand to let her know I understand. 

I understand the growing pains of growing up. The turbulent years where you want to make a difference, make your parents proud, do the right things, follow your passions, be rich, be happy, be everything and be something. Despite the yearning lies a chasm of doubt because in all honesty you don’t know how to these things. And worse, you don’t know what is it you really want

Life, it seems, is all about suddenness. Suddenly you are conceived. Suddenly you are born. Suddenly you learn how to walk and talk and run and climb and do things that parents find absurd, funny, stressful, ignorable. Suddenly you are in pre-school and have to learn how to make friends. Suddenly you are in elementary and struggle through books and teachers’ homework and making friends. It is around this time that you are suddenly aware how poor or rich your family is. And then this realization suddenly accost you with feelings of want, envy, wishful thinking, ambition. And if you have younger siblings or a middle child, competition to be the star in the family happens. And then when you are getting used to your situation, suddenly you are in high school. Suddenly you get these weird feelings of love or infatuation, rebelliousness, wanting to be recognized and be in chic or be just you. And this time around the negative emotions of hate, hurt, jealousy, pity come to you when you least expect it.

Getting used to highschool is no joke. But when you least expect it again, you graduate (or not) and the so called “adulthood” happens. And if you get lucky you get to college where a zillion of options open up to you. But no matter what at this point in your life making the wrong decision is a hell of more painful than a decade ago of your life. But the right choices are most rewarding, maybe not to you but at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter as long as everyone is at peace and your parents are not berating you. At this point the suddenness of responsibility, time management, integrity, team work, and all other skills that are pre-requisite in landing a job is more crucial than your ambitions or your own desires. Only a handful of people tend to get what they want or live the lives they wanted. 

At the point when you are getting the hang of it, old age creeps in and you find yourself wobbly in the joints and most likely incontinent and then the suddenness of death happens too. And you have nothing left. 

Sometimes I wish there is a rule book, a manual, an idiots guide to living and adulthood. If I had one I would lend it to her and make more copies for others to use. And because there isn’t any, I know that she would have to wing it on her own. Maybe my smile from million miles away brought near by our webcam would make things easier for her.

To be so strong that nothing can disturb your peace of mind.

To talk health, happiness, and prosperity to every person you meet.

To make all your friends feel that there is something worthwhile in them.

To look at the sunny side of everything and make your optimism come true.

To think only of the best, to work only for the best and to expect only the best.

To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others as you are about your own.

To forget the mistakes of the past and press on to the greater achievements of the future.

To wear a cheerful expression at all times and give a smile to every living creature you meet.

To give so much time to improving yourself that you have no time to criticize others.

To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear, and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.

To think well of yourself and to proclaim this fact to the world, not in loud word, but in great deeds.

To live in the faith that the whole world is on your side, so long as you are true to the best that is in you.

The past few weeks I had been very busy with being a manager for two positions. Lately, the number of people I am required to hire have increased as the owner of Bamm Bamm is doing a re-org and at the same time most positions are being outsourced here. 

After sifting through 600, and I mean SIX FREAKING HUNDRED, applications the last four weeks I can’t take it anymore. I wanted to play hooky. But I’m too tired to doll up. I needed instant gratification. I needed a quick fix just to help me cope with the stress. The only thing I can think of that would help me chill by just investing on my fingers was surfing the world wide web. Boringly simple but at least I didn’t have to light a stick, or sweat on a yoga mat, or deplete my stock of Zs.

So off I went to Web Land and guess what I found!!! There’s an online engine that donates to your favorite charity or school. You can even shop from there and they’ll donate too. So I am adding GoodSearch on one of my favorite sites. 

Nways... while I was at that page I thought of searching for PETA. I’m not vegetarian as most of my friends say. I just don’t eat four-legged animals.  Eating chicken is a pain because I don’t want to eat chicken but Cebu loves their meat and I am out of options. Going back to my 10 minute pleasure surfing I found another site.

Now this site, is not for the weak of heart and stomach. I was horrified after watching Pamela Anderson’s coverage on. I cannot believe how these people can raise chickens that way - chock-full, poor light, poor ventilation, no veterinary services! I have raised my own chicken inside our house and clearly these poultry farm owners have no respect whatsoever to life. They only see money. The part where the people were stomping and throwing live chickens on the wall made me so angry I wanted to shout at them to stop. But because I couldn’t I ended up crying instead. Poor chickens! Chickens have personalities! Like cats, pigs, dogs, cows, and humans. I snort at people who say that it’s just instincts because I’ve raised my own piglet at home named Angelique and my own chick at home named Chickadee and witnessed first had that if the animals like them are treated with love and respect they return it too.

Growing up in the farm, killing chickens wasn't really bothersome. We treated them kindly, and every afternoon we would visit them, some afternoons I would play them some Mozart. And so when it was time to kill them and sell them to the market, I believe that they were doing a willing sacrifice for my family to have money. Even if it would hurt me every time each chicken throat was slit, I believed deep in my heart they are happy, even Chikadee's. 

After watching that video I swore off eating chicken not just in KFC. It made me realize that some people bite, stomp, throw at the wall, and even curse the hand (or chicken for this matter) that feeds them. Because I do not know how the meat I buy in the market was treated, I don't want the cruel animal owners to continue to make money and buy more animals which will just be maltreated. 

I don't eat four legged animals for health and environmental reasons, I won't eat two legged animals for ethical reasons. I’m going to maintain a strict pesco-vegetarian diet, until scientists can come up with a conclusive study that even sea creatures feel pain.

Snowman illustration from Jenn Hogg Art.

Tadz and me were walking on the way to the office. We took a short walk to the convenience store near the office to buy some stuff. You know. Stuff.

We got to talk about today being the start of the -ber months. She laughingly shared that when she opened the radio early this morning the station was playing Christmas carols. It's absurd how Filipinos love to countdown days.. or months months months away before Christmas.

As I sat on my desk nostalgia came over me. Another year, another Christmas, another happy day for everyone but me because it's another Christmas I am alone. I didn't want to feel weepy and sappy over a day but gosh!!! It's hard not to feel lonely on a day when families are suppose to be together. I try to remember my past Christmases with Tanduay Girl and her family but that made my eyes sting. With my trip to Canada around the corner, Christmas in Boracay doesn't seem a possibility anymore. 

*Sigh* My mind can't handle it yet. So I did what I am always good at... I ran. I ran from sadness. I ran from tears. I ran from pity. But even as I ran I looked around and I realized that no one is beside me. And I am still lonely.

The Colonel is now The Retired Colonel. He finally ended his service last August 15. Unlike most of his mistahs who are Generals he ended his long career as a Colonel. No bands, no speeches from the Director of the Philippine National Police or the President of the Philippines. His birthday crept in slowly as he was speaking in front of a congregation sharing to them the Jesus film they are giving away to each police officer in the service. And then that was it. The end of his 35 year of service.

Like most of us, he had a thankless job. Only a handful of people have any respect left for the police. I can’t blame them. But I feel for The Colonel too. After he became a Bible-bearing police on December 25, 1990 his superiors mocked him, the president bullied, him and his classmates found him weak. No one wanted to promote him. No one wanted to give him a “real” job. He tried to be a catalyst of change in the midst of corruption, lies, and imperialistic forces and all he got was a handful of pastors who asked for money, subordinates who back-stabbed, bosses who jeered every time he would talk about the Gospel.

All the years that he had been harshly and unfairly treated I never saw him give the finger to the government. I would only see him smile politely even if he assigned the stupidest jobs, I would hear him ask us to pray for his bosses and him, I would hear him pray “Thy will be done.” I am not religious. I may not follow anything he says. But deep in my hear I know that he is right. Deep inside what I see them do to him cut me up and make me bleed. 

Now that the curtains have fallen in his career, maybe he is happy. Maybe now he will feel useful. The least I hope he feels relieved. I know I’ve written so many of his bad sides. I fervently hope he does not feel a lesser man.

He has moved to Arizona without any immediate plans of coming back. It’s just me and Tanduay Girl now here in the country. I called her yesterday to catch up on some family gossips. And as we laughed and teased each other, I realized it may take years for us to see each other again especially when I move to Canada.  That was when swells of loneliness and abandonment hit me over an over that no amount of Z’s could stop it. After all these years of being away from him, it hit me hard how far apart The Colonel and I are.

I seriously think I deserve one. It’s not easy being in my position. Because they know I can pull rabbits out of hats (a knack I learned from my former fallen angel for a boss) they tend to dump much work on me. The hardest of which is to hire people.

So [S], our Production Manager, sends a message 3 weeks ago about an enticing position of Telephone Researchers. Pay ain’t bad too, if you’ll convert it to pesos, at $500 - $800 a month you’d think people inside would clamor for the position. But since it’s a job that would require someone to be on the phone when it is daytime in the US, simple logic will reveal that it’s like working in a call center except you do out bound calls and you ain’t selling. Majority of people who work here do not like evening shift, besides lack of food options, these guys actually worked in call centers before they applied here. They hated call centers that’s why they moved here. Out of the many candidates and many people they tried to woo the position to, only one person accepted it.

It was no surprise when [S] sent a message to the gregarious, voluptuous, witty, ...okay, okay! She sent me a message telling me that we need 5 people immediately. So last week we published an ad in one of the local online job search engines. Just 2 hours after we published it, I had to sift through 37 application forms already! Part of the price. Sure.

Now Mr. Lonc (the Owner of Bamm Bamm Incorporated) is not happy with the little Web Designer we got, can’t blame since the guy doesn’t know how to code in PHP or hard code in Flash. So he tasks me to find a senior Web Designer. Mind you his criteria for judging is hard to pass --- you gotta be a designer and developer at the same time, know PHP, CSS2, Flash and active scripting PLUS s/he needs to understand the psychology behind web site design. Where in the mighty name of Java will I find one here in the Philippines!?!

Now, I can still carry these things. It’s fine. Except when I started interviewing for the Telephone Researcher today...

... the first guy assaulted my nose with his funky smell.

... the second one, a girl, made my eyebrow rise when she said she doesn’t know anything about our company but wanted to to work in Bamm Bamm because of the relax environment

... the third girl came in while she had a fever. I know life is hard now, but I don’t want to share what she’s got.

... the fourth girl shocked my socks off with her halitosis.

... the fifth was so late and made my ears bleed with in her poor English. Yeah, she was perky but she doesn’t even know what “composition” means.

Sigh. Lately, my duties as a Hiring Manager is causing me extreme discomfort and distress. Now are the moments I wish I worked in a normal company and get health insurance or at least hazard pay. But what the heck, tomorrow I have eight interviews lined up... and the day after that... and the day after that... and the day after that...

I hardly get offended now. Maybe because I went through a lot of pain. Maybe because of all these pain I’ve become apathetic. Maybe because of all the pain I received and gave I’ve learned to toughen up and grow up. Looking ay myself in my dim mind, I see me in full armor. An armor that protects me from heart quenching pain. A shield I have learned to always hold to secure my sanity (though my trusty Z’s help too).

After all these years, I’ve learned to step back and assess any comment or action which I find offensive. I’ve learned to shut up. And after all these years I still walk away when I find someone’s words towards me too hurtful or too accusing. Yes, one of my best talents is to walk away. And every time I do the person I leave behind always shouts that I am always reliable on that --- walking away. I know they feel frustrated, they’re angry at me, they’re hurt I left them. In my mind I do not care.. or should I say, I DO CARE. I care enough to walk away and not say hurtful things out of spite. I care enough to walk away before I hurt them physically.

There are a few moments when I do stay. And I’ve always regretted staying. Either I cut them up worse than they deserve or I cut them up literally and blood and gore have to be cleaned afterwards. All the hugs and apologies do not erase the fact that I’ve hurt them. And even if I do not wish to, it’s there already.

So bear with me bitch, if I do not speak to you for a few days even if you are just sitting a meter away from me. You’d rather be suffering in silence rather than suffer with all the insecurities I can instill in your mind and heart. But because I know you itch to find out why I would not talk to you, fasten your seatbelt and in case you’d need it I’ll have the EMT waiting outside.

- You are so fucking tactless! God! I can never believe you have the nerve to say that could’ve intimidated C which is why she is failing audits. And because you’re so tactless you repeated the same words even if I bluntly told you that what you said is a crude joke. Hello?!? Maybe you don’t know what “crude” means. Go get yourself a dictionary!

- And don’t you dare accuse my trainee that she is cheating and she should not continue training. Are you not the one who is seeing a married man?!? Seriously, your double standards make me sick. What makes it more sick is you’re seeing a married man who is older than my dad! Fuck bitch, are you running out of men? Weird. When you cavort and flirt with all the guys in the office.

- What’s with the loud laughter every time you walk in? You’re laughter is so fucking irritating, it’s quite tempting to sock your mouth.

- Why do you get jealous every time your duckies ask me out? Hello. It’s a smoke break. If you can’t take it light a cigarette and join us. Don’t tell your duckies not to talk to me! Anyone can talk to anyone and anyone can not talk to anyone. It’s called power of choice. Who are you to stop them?

- I don’t understand why you keep on telling me everyday you want to be demoted. If you really want to be demoted go tell the boss. Or are you not meaning what you say? It’s so obvious you don’t want to be demoted. You just want a bigger pay. If you want a bigger pay, why don’t we just let it out in the open. I get to hear you whine everyday about it it’s driving me nuts! You got issues, I got issues, every one has issues. Stop whining and start working bitch!

- Stop shouting at your duckies! How dare you tell them that the reason you are stuck to the manager position is because of them. As if you do not enjoy the glory. As if you are not enjoying the fact that you don't have quotas. Get a grip of your boobs woman and quit putting it up on their face that you are a manager. FUCK YOU! 

-And since you asked for it, stop trying to compete with me. Mr. G told you already... “You can’y compete with D.”

And now that I'm done, exhale.