An open note to ex best friend

I can accept criticisms. Can you?

Just because you raise your voice does not mean that you are an effective leader.

Just because you get irritated at people when what you wanted to happen failed to deliver does not permit you to treat people bad and use that as an excuse to save face and say that you intended so much better. It is all in your head madame.

You think that just because we have the same circle of friends and I am forced to be in your company equates to forgiveness on my part.

You think that just because you are more expressive than I in speech means you are correct. As they say an empty can makes a lot of noise.

You think that I can not see beneath your intention to merely preserve yourself and use me as a tool to climb up. I can't care less if you get there or not.

Just because you exhibit sarcasm does not mean you are a deep person.

And just because you laugh at me does not mean you are above me.

I would have said yes to to your question if the manner in which you said it did not display the obvious fact that it would please you more than me. If you can't be sensitive at least be respectful.

I will walk the earth and thank the good souls that crossed my path. There are only two types of people I meet. One is someone who is neither good nor bad but at least I have had the privilege to have learned the foundation of their characters and have directly or indirectly taught me a thing or two about humanity. The second is someone I despise. Someone whom I can not and will never look up to, someone whom I will never forget trampled upon my very worth and spat on it. You are the later, even if you are completely aware of it nor not.

Faith Lost

I wonder if what came first: My deteriorating faith in God or my deteriorating faith in People. It's like the chicken and egg dilemma for my nerves.

I wonder if the monster that I have become was the effect of  the kind of environment I was bred in or was it always hidden in me and waiting to be tapped or provoked into full embodiment.

Fighting For My Life

In the usual scheme of things, either yes or no, can or can’t, Should and shouldn’t, I happen to find myself undecided and worried.

I feel blessed yet cheated. I feel blessed and fortunate than countless others who are less fortunate than I am and feel cheated for being in this situation. Don’t I deserve the best? Don’t I deserve at least better for doing my very best -what I can to attain greater heights for myself and to assist you in the future?

I feel deprived yet free. I feel deprived of resources. How has it come to this? I don’t want to compare as much as possible. I don’t want to question but how else can I cope but by going back to the root of it all. I am free. Free to interpret this as challenge, as a means to strengthen myself and to see the other side of my situation, the good of it which I don’t and won’t see.

I know why it is me but I am fighting a fight for my life and for my future – both a necessity and a desire. I am destined for more: this is my belief and my plea. 

Nothing Mystical

I told my folks I wanted to be able to explain dreams when I grow up answering their obligatory “what do you want to be when you grow up?” question.

Adults were so frustrating to not have corrected me or at least have lead me to the career path I was actually talking about but instead led me to believe that I was an odd kid coming up with that answer.

Dreams have always mystified me as a child and no one bothered to explain to me, at least scientifically what they were. I thought that dreams were another realm, another truth that occurred in my sleep for they always seemed so real and I would remember them in great detail as I wake up similar to a memory of past events.

I had a scary dream when I was in kindergarten: I was sitting on a chair at the sala of our former house at Mahogany Park, when I suddenly noticed a black tail showing from underneath the chair I was sitting at. Our dog at the time was Julie and she was a white corgi with very few brown spots on her ears and at her back- obviously it wasn’t her. I felt scared at what was underneath the chair so instead of looking I ran and something grabbed my right ankle but I continued to run and then all I can remember was I was trying to run away from a creature with a human torso and legs that of a horse. That dream scared me until I forgot all about it.

I was in grade four when I dreamt I was walking with some of my friends at a street near our school when we discovered an empty lot with an opened gate. We went inside and there was this tree at the middle of a grassy lot. I decided to lean on the trunk of the tree when my friends started pointing towards me. I didn’t look up the tree, but I saw a foot dangling from it leveled with my shoulders. I forgot what went through my mind but my initial reaction was to touch the foot dangling from the tree. The foot was so cold and only did I notice the color of it- which was grayish purple. I remember running after.

In my high school I dreamt I was in our house, and there was a blackout so I was using my cellphone for illumination going up the stairs and finally to my room. I heard a girl crying and I noticed there was someone sitting at the first deck of our double decked bed so I moved towards the person thinking it was Bea. I tried to see if it was her using my cellphone to illuminate her face. I was so scared to see that it was an old woman with a scary face. I woke up after and it’s a good thing I don’t recall how she looks like exactly.

I have learned that dreams are nothing more than our subconscious mind.  Once we are asleep the brain takes bits and pieces from the different files in our memory and that’s what we dream about explaining why sometimes it doesn’t make sense. At times it reflects what we’re going through at present and sometimes may reveal our hidden fears and desires through dominant symbols in our dreams.  There’s nothing mystical about it to my dismay.

When Yes Means Never Again

Saturday was the supposed debut date of my high school classmate, Nats. Came the date and I received word that it was to be postponed to the following day - Sunday due to the fact that the venue of the party was flooded that time. She asked me if I was still available even at the short notice of change of plans. I calmly said yes.

I said yes because:

•  First and foremost I am a person who is very committed especially towards affairs involving friends. I may whine (for a while) at the demands of debutantes but thinking that it is in service of a friend that may one day be of service to me, this thought would always have greater bearing. Also, I do appreciate the fact that I am invited that goes to show that the debutante and I share a good friendship.
• I said yes because I went to all the trouble of arranging a special dance number at her request. I got a little help from Honey in choosing the songs, sound effects in between and more importantly, the choreography. We spent a day making the choreography and another day in teaching it to our two friends: Inah and Kat.
•   I said yes because I requested Nats to be the second guest of my TV production class wherein we had to record a talk show and have guests invited over. She was to sing and answer two questions about her talent after her performance. The date of which was two days after her debut so I had to suck up to her and attend her debut.

I said yes because I felt bad about her parents and her as well for they went through all the trouble of organizing her debut. She even dropped by my house just to hand me the invitation. It wasn’t their fault that they hadn’t perceived that a storm was to come and was to flood the venue after all their arrangements


I said yes even though:

·         Of all the debuts that I have attended she was the one who was the most demanding by far. She originally set her debut date to June 11. She called me up and said she was going to move the date to June 25 because she wanted to lose weight so that, according to her she’ll look prettier and sexier.

·         Even if she kept changing the color of the dresses we were required to wear. She first said it was anything black with red or black and/or red. Five days before her debut she informed me that participants of the 18 candles where I am part of would need to wear any dress that has violet or pink on it.

·         I said yes even though she requested the most absurd thing ever which thankfully didn’t materialize. She told me over the phone that she wants a cotillion. The more absurd thing she told me was those who will be part of the dance were us, her high school friends and some of her college friends. The most exciting thing is, she said that all of us well the high school friends at least will be partnered to the ones whom we were linked to back in high school. The very reason for this is her long desire to be paired with Kester, her high school crush who did not ask to dance with him on prom night but asked me instead which she very distinctly remembers. In other words, she wanted to relive her not so glorious moments of high school.

·         I said yes even if she failed to foresee that June is the start of classes. Everyone is going to be busy already. Had she scheduled her debut earlier or even stuck to her original date- June 11, it would have been better. You see her birthday is actually June 2. The start of my class is at June 8. Most schools started June 14. Hadn't she thought that it would have been better if she scheduled it a month before? Saving her and all of us the trouble?  Two months of vacation - everyone I presume were more available and willing then. Lastly, the weather was to her advantage had she scheduled it in Summer.

·         I said yes even though when I think of her, what I remember is high school drama and immaturity.

I said yes nonetheless.

Taking Pictures of Pictures

My mom asked me to email her pictures of a certain "Tita Brendie". It's good that there are only two albums where I am supposed to look for it but the bad the news is that both albums weigh about 5kg each and each are 5 inches thick. I swear it is so heavy plus the fact that it's located at the topmost (reaching the ceiling) shelf of our study room. It's always a struggle when she requests for certain pictures because I have to get them from all way of up there. The best part is I have no clue of how Tita Brendie looks like. I asked my mom and she told me, "basta mahaba yung baba." It's insane I tell you for there are a lot of people in those two albums that have long chins. I tried asking Lola and Tita Beau but they told me they don't remember Tita Brendie's face (or so they say. People in this house are sadists. Just like me).

My mom doesn't remember which album it is at so I tried the brown album first. I don't have a scanner so what I do is take pictures of the pictures from the album using a digital camera. I narrowed down the people in that album whom I suspected was The Tita Brendie using mom's vague description and took pictures of all of it and emailed it to mom. Before I email it to her by the way, I edit it first, adjusting the brightness and contrast so that it's clear and presentable. But alas, my mom told me that there was no sign of Tita Brendie among all the pictures I sent her.

Today, I decided to take pictures of all the pictures on the other album, the red one because my mom was sure this time that it was there and just in case mom requests again for other pictures, at least I sent her all the ones from that album. Actually what I haven't thought of is check the labels of the pictures for thank God I found one labeled "With Tita ...., Tita....., and Tita Brendie". Labels are life savers. 

It wasn't actually bad spending my whole afternoon doing just that. Here are some of my favorite pictures from the red album:

Mom and  Lola

Mommy and her one and only sibling Tita Beau who's five years younger

At least mom learned to bike 

Mom with a cat

Mom's the daddy's girl. I wish I met Lolo.

White, Blue and Black for Now

It was my friend Stephen's birthday last June 1 and so I made this. Took me a few hours to finish it. He's going to pass by the house tomorrow just to collect it. I originally told him it would take me months to finish and he believed me.

I used to make a lot of this for my best friends in elementary. I would sneak into my Lola's sewing box and would snip about twelve inches of a variety of her DMC threads occasionally. I adored the colors, especially the different shades of pink and red. It got to a point where I used up almost all of it and she found out later on and I was reprimanded of course by her and Tita Beau for according to them, the DMC threads Lola had were specifically ordered from her sister-in-law living in Greece because the colors weren't available here. I have only made another DMC bracelet now since that incident.