“Don’t worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.” ~ Mary Schmich

No, Miss Schmich. I was not blindsided at 4 PM on a some idle Tuesday but at 7 PM tonight. I became a victim of a guy indecently exposing his pecker and so close to being a victim of sexual assault. By the time I have published this my hands would’ve stopped shaking, the angry tears stinging my eyes have stopped falling, my breathing would be calmer, my body would be an image of serenity again. But like all things seen, everything outward will contradict the turbulence happening within. The chaos in my mind, the fear that beats in my heart, the hostility that would continue to course through my veins.

I was seventeen when I was raped. I told my father and he replied that I had it coming. My naiveté made my entire ordeal my fault. I believe there was some part of it that was true. Until now I think that if just had a decent sex education or made myself aware of the depravity of man I would have prevented what happened to me. Even if it took some years for me to move forward I was able to. Now I’m guarded. Now I am responsible. Now I do not put myself in situations that would compromise myself. You will never see me intoxicated that I cannot drive or bring myself home. You will never see me wear provocative clothes that will solicit a guy’s unwanted lust. You will never see me in places “unsafe”. I wasn’t worried, but I promised myself I will no longer be the accused when I am suppose to be a victim of a crime.

It is not fair that within ten seconds of your life everything that you’ve worked for the last thirteen years will be ineffectual. It is not fair that despite the fact that a woman is just sitting at the bus stop wearing jeans, a shirt, a winter jacket and a cap she will be in danger of rape. It is not fair that because of that single incident I would feel paranoid over every place and every guy. It is not fair that a man can scorn a woman’s gender. It is not fair that any person could bring me close to self-loathing again for being a woman.

I do not feel “lucky” that the bus finally came before you had a chance to put your filthy hands on me. I do not feel “better” calling the cops and having to retell them what you did to me. I do not feel “safer” just because I am in the confines of my house. You may not have touched me but I felt the danger of my life as you stood above me while I look up to see you holding your willy with your left hand and your right hand reaching to grab my head. You may not have penetrated me but the wildness in your eyes as lust consumed any form of reason in you burned my being. Your hand may not have reached me but the momentary aggression I felt towards the police officer who blamed me seemed like you did. You may not have touched me but I feel every inch of me violated as worse as being raped.

I may not be a rape victim based on the judicial definition of the term “rape” but it doesn’t make any lesser the trauma I am going through.

I know chivalry is somewhat extinct, it has grown old as the medieval times the word has come from. Young people don’t court one another anymore. The damsel in distress does not get saved. And most of all we don’t write love letters.

But this one is intended to be a love letter. But I think if you ever read this you’d categorize me as one of the many crazy bitches you’ve dated and give me an “it’s not you, it’s me” speech. For starters, you don’t exist. Let me rephrase that... you do exist, I’m just unaware of your existence. Somewhere out there you are living life and one day you and I will meet, fall in love in time, and be like those fairy-tale books with a picture of a prince and princess together and the words “happily ever after”. This is what my future tells me. Or rather what I am suppose to believe in. The kind of love that constricts your heart and give you a stomach full of butterflies. The kind of love that lasts all seasons. The kind of love that you just can’t get enough. The kind of love that triggers your jaded belief because it’s 2009 and times have changed dramatically. Young people don’t go through the process of starting a relationship naturally. Nowadays things have evolved to drunken (and sober) one-night stands. Start a relationship while still in one. Stubbornly staying in a toxic one. And most times people just opt to cohabit and test the waters, even throw a kid in the mélange usually unplanned. We try to salvage broken relationships and delude ourselves things will go further and improve in a stagnant one. As if these aren’t stupid enough, people marry and divorce so fast even if it’s been quite clear that shacking up, having a baby, or getting a diamond ring are just band aids to deep rooted problems that end up festering and damaging us more. Everyone makes poor choices at times that should have taught us to know better and wise up. But more often than not, we simply repeat our past.

Maybe I do have an old soul as what some people say. Some part of me is old-school and a bit ancient, but it seems everything now is rushed and prematurely forced. We have a quick fix for almost anything, we can have instant meals, and technology is helping us get from one place to another faster. Everyone is running a race, going where is something I have not figured out. We want to get going now, experience things now. And while there is nothing wrong in seizing the moment and living life to the fullest, aren’t some things suppose to happen naturally or even effortlessly? Look at the leaves that change with the passing of seasons, or a baby developing to a toddler or the passing of the day from sunrise to sunset. Don’t you think that there should be some sort of progression in a relationship as well? We jump into bed with someone before we form a friendship with them. And despite the knowledge that such “relationship” is devoid of any foundation we still push forward hoping it will work out still. Which of course is futile as things man builds without a sturdy foundation are meant to fall apart. We’re ensnared in this vicious cycle and try to avoid getting hurt by evading the problem or running away from it like a game of dodgeball. But it seems to me that I am getting hit more and hurt more and benched more. And with each defeat I find it harder to pick myself back up. I’ve grown tired already and lately I’ve been wondering if all this energy I invest on this love crap is worth it. The sardonic side of me knows nothing lasts forever so why bother to continue playing. I should be smart. Play safe. Stay guarded.

I am not erotophobic neither am I frigid, but can we slow down a little. Let me wrap my mind around exactly why you want to be with me and not the bajillion other girls out there. Part of me secretly feels disdain everytime you just can’t wait to get my clothes off when I am wanting to know first how your day went and share some laughter with you. I feel nervous and pressured everytime you talk about getting me to bed. I may not always understand why a guy needs to cover bases so urgently when there’s no World Series to win. I hope you won’t find it emasculating that I want to know you more first. I am not playing hard to get, I will sleep with you and do so with passion when it feels right. I can just ask you to “go with me” on a torn scrap of paper 6th grade-style, or if you like you can just read the signs. Don’t worry, it will be loud and clear. I will show zero interest in other people. I will set aside what I am doing if you need my help. I will show genuine interest in the things you love. And the most obvious sign, I will just ask you if you want to despite the thundering beat of my heart. Well that and the radiant love sick look on my face the moment you walk in the room.

I believe that one of the best parts of having a someone is letting them know they aren’t just anyone. It makes me happy when your eyes sparkle with pride and your face light up, especially knowing I am the reason behind your pleasure. I will not just do the things you like how you like it, I will do my best to evolve as you evolve. I will go the extra mile to show to you how much you mean to me and keep it fresh and exciting even after the beginning of our relationship passes. So please accept the note I leave on top of your shirt as you get off the shower to get dressed for work. Don’t be frightened when I tell you we need to talk because I simply respect your opinion and have a desire to know what you think. Please accept my offer to give you a massage after a hard days work. When I ask “why?” please don’t think I’m being subservient, I actually want to understand you more. And if for you defying the laws of nature isn’t necessary for me to rekindle the feelings that a budding summer romance possesses, I will still reciprocate and echo the passion you feel for me and this is something I will do constantly. With today’s standard of disposable relationships being the norm, my effort should speak volumes.

All I ask is that you recognize these gestures and not take them or me for granted, as I promise to never take you for granted. I know that I come off as intimidating and challenging, but despite my tough exterior I am sensitive and have soft side like all women. Because my heart has been broken in so many places already I find myself getting hurt more easily because of the pre-existing cracks on it. I know I will come off disinterested and guarded. Believe me when I say that I am not doing this to deliberately hurt you or undermine your interest. Don’t take it personally, it’s just who I am. I have good reason not to trust men and their shady ways. I’ve been lied to, deceived, taken advantaged of, led on, and belittled just to name a few. As much as I know that it’s unfair for me to make you “pay” for the errs previous men before you have made with me, please be patient and understand that they have left questions in my mind and my heart is something I protect the most. Despite the fact that I may keep you at a certain distance until a certain level of faith is formed, I hope that you will discover every aspect of me and my world. Because the truth is I wish nothing more than to trust again, this time in you.

I love cooking. I’ve loved cooking since I was a little girl trying to make Adobo (the Filipino dish not the Spanish one) for the Colonel who I thought would love me if not look at me more if he enjoyed my cooking. He didn’t love me more neither did he look at me more unless I did something awfully wrong for him but that didn’t wane my love for cooking.

Right now I am using Journler to work on my blog drafts and compile recipes I’ve cooked and plan to cook. Using this app to compose the next blog entry is very useful but on the other hand, writing recipes isn’t. It’s quite difficult to find recipes even if I can tag and categorize them or use the ala-spotlight search bar. I figured I am 80% online when I’m at home and often telecommute I might as well start a blog on this as well. Something for my own selfish reasons. :D

I’m quite wondering though how to write things that I do originally make because I honestly don’t use measuring cups or spoons. If there is anything I’m good at it’s knowing just by looking if what I’m cooking lacks something or is already perfect. I suppose I can use a measuring spoon... and I write that with a furrow on my forehead.

Anyhoo, accept my apology ahead of time if I will be posting less(er) as I work on a new project... what to name it is yet being figured by me and Kitty Kat. Okay... I lie, she’s doing the figuring out of the name by herself! :D

By now every Filipino must've known that former President Joseph "Erap" Estrada has placed his bid for the 2010 presidential election. And while most of the local population may have taken this news with disdain and scoffing there are Filipinos who took this with jubilation. He is, after all this time, still their icon for hope and prosperity.

As most of you probably know already, I don't vote. Voting or even following the Philippine politics is like watching a crack addict shoot coke over and over. You'd think we'd be wiser by not putting into the highest office a guy who doesn't even know basic laws of economics and claims to address poverty. You'd think we'd be better by focusing on healthcare, education, environmental sustainability instead of condoning the congressmen fighting over who gets the biggest pork. You'd think we'd be more shrewed questioning why a mayor who's been holding office for more than a decade has not even made any significant improvements in his town. How they have the balls to run for office, how they can manage to sleep at night, how they can have the face to run for office again and again after being caught of crimes such as corruption, murder, or just plain incompetence is beyond my limited brain.

If there is anything consistent in the Philippines it’ll be corruption. Not only is it consistent, it’s also prevalent which can be experienced by everyone. Put aside (if you can) the red tape at government offices, the pay off given to cops and public officials, the countless people they’ve abducted and murdered because that person was against such public official, put those things aside for a moment. They’re actually extremes. Extreme compared to these: every public works construction has a signboard with the smiling face of the president and large print that such project was made possible by of his/her Excellency, books purchased for public school students but are left rotting in warehouses, floods high and low that occur because of a non-existent sewage system, crime scenes compromised because latex gloves are even insufficient, going to a public hospital most likely means you’ll end up dead, need I say more? Even as I write the last few phrases I feel anger coursing through my veins as I remember the headlines that have affected the Filipino people even when I was living in the Philippines.

The missing funds, excesses of politicians, self-aggrandizing of the military, or even the arrogance of the family by the legislators or any government official maybe something difficult to tolerate. It’s how they are able to win over and over, well... that just makes my brain shrink smaller than an my eyeball. We hope it doesn’t happen, we hope that the voting public will be more discriminating, we hope that the sacrifices of our ancestors and rotting heroes would hold some value in us, we hope that the memory span of the collective people will be longer than the 10 minute speeches that promise to provide education, end poverty, start jobs and livelihood programs, save the world. We hope for change and a better system. And it’s not the desire for certain things to happen that we lack, it’s the honorable candidates. When you are made to choose which apple to pick we pick the best, but if your options are all bad... how do you pick? We can’t demand for better options neither do we get a refund.

Carl Sagan once said, “One of the saddest lessons of history is this: If we’ve been bamboozled long enough, we tend to reject any evidence of the bamboozle. The bamboozle has captured us. Once you give a charlatan power over you, you almost never get it back.”

I am not proud that I don’t go to the polls to cast my vote, but I cannot decide which is more difficult --- looking the other way or choosing the wrong one and paying the consequences for an entire term. I am tempted though to register so I can vote on 2010 mostly because I am alarmed by the possibility of an ousted president jailed for corruption will win again and be the next president of the Philippines. But as I am undecided the deadline to register will most likely have passed before I would have made the choice. I know I am not any different from those people who sell their votes to the highest politician, or those who pay bribe money, or those who watch the news then avoid the problems plaguing my country by flipping channels. Honestly, it is hard to love a country or even have an ounce of belongingness to a place that never really fostered a sense of heritage.

Yet I hope. Even if hoping is outwardly impossible because one hopes for too much. Maybe instead of seeing the corrupt politicians as bastion of prosperity they will for once question what has have they done with the previous years they were sitting in office. Maybe next year’s election people won’t be fooled twice.