(As of posting, I am still waiting for Jen S’ version of the story)

Cates Said:

 

For all my life, I have known only two kinds of friends: those who left me and those, because of changing circumstances, I had to leave behind…

 

Saturday started out to be a humid day.  I had my usual breakfast with my family.  By 11:00 a.m., I had already cooked lunch and Brianne was already having seconds (and thirds and fourths) of the tuna pasta I cooked.

 

A brief trip to Pasig Center told us that Brianne’s dentist is nowhere to be found that day.  We went back to the Blue House and I had a brief nap after lunch beside my husband. At 2:30 p.m., I set off for Gateway.

 

Nothing changes when it comes to the meeting place

 

The venue was that Santos-Millar residence in Marikina.  The occasion this time: a shower party for the pregnant woman who I wrote about in my last entry about the Yayas sometime in March this year.

 

For more than a decade now, I was meeting my constant companion to the venue of the Yaya’s gatherings.  It was always nice to meet up with Jenny Gump somewhere posh and comfortable for these gatherings.

 

Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf was the place I found Jenny sitting so comfortably in her Madonna-ish outfit.  Her hair was up and she had this absolutely gorgeous pair of earrings matched by a thick wooden bracelet.  For this occasion, I gave Jenny two thumbs up for the fabulous get up.

 

As usual, Marlyn was meeting up with one of the Yayas in another venue.  This time, it wasn’t Cathy she convinced to meet up with her.  Jen S went all the way to Trinoma as Jenny Gump and I just begged off, Gateway being more strategic for the two of us, if not comfortable.  Cathy, I was told, was driving with Farlett.  Gaynor was also driving to Nharl’s residence.  This last, I believed.

 

As for Cathy driving, I had my doubts.  Ever since I can remember from way back in College, Cathy has been attempting to drive.  More than 10 pounds later, and a few gray hairs in between, Cathy is still attempting to drive.  Of course, I should not be the one to make this observation.  I haven’t done anything remotely close to driving a car.  Give me a bike anytime and I am sure that the streets of Manila will give me a lot of bruises, if not scars.

 

Food, Glorious Food

 

I brought along half of the pasta I made that morning to the baby shower.  Jenny and I were the earliest to arrive at the Santos-Millar residence.  And that is a good understatement.  The residents were not yet in also, having gone somewhere to pick up the sushi and salad stuff.

 

As we waited, Jenny and I talked about the stately affairs of my life.  And how I seem to be successful at making a mess out of it.  At the back of my mind, I knew I was screwing myself for some barbecue later.  And the hundred pound of pork who will be roasted was me.

 

At last, the real residents arrived with a very precocious child in tow.  We immediately set into the task of preparing food.  Jenny prepared the dressing.  She attempted to cut the veggies but I will steadfastly hang on to the contention that Nharleen’s kitchen knife was in need of sharpening and Jenny has definitely improved in her kitchen skills.  More than ten years down the line, she now knows how to mix a good salad dressing.  Just don’t expect her to be good at cutting the veggies.  For heaven’s sake, Jenny has a PhD already.  That’s good enough credential to get married.  Just don’t expect that she will do well in the cutting section, whether or not the knife is sharp.  Well, let’s leave it t that.

 

Soon, Marla and Jen S found their way along the Biblically-named streets.  Oh, I nearly forgot.  Definitely, there is Colossians in the Bible.  And it didn’t matter that the cab driver could have driven Jenny Gump and me at some place where we could have disappeared for the rest of our lives just to prove there is no Colossians in the Bible.  Well, I suppose, Jenny and I needed a refresher course on the Bible.  To be given to the driver, of course.

 

By and by, Gaynor arrived with her kids in tow, all fresh from the Gymnastics class.  They were carrying their gift for the baby as unobtrusively as possible.  A blue tub gaily flashing in sight with its string of straw.  Nharleen was thrilled at its sight, not with surprise.

 

More than half an hour later, everybody could no longer postpone devouring the food.  Jenny’s salad was a huge hit.  In between cheesesticks, pasta and sushi, Cathy was lost with Farlett, looking for the rainbow landmark.

 

By the time they found it, we were already competing with Nharleen for the most rounded belly contest.

 

More than a decade of friendship

 

On May 1996, dressed in ecru and our make-up melting under the humidity of the summer air, Gaynor, Marlyn, Jenny, Jen, Nharleen, Cathy and I held hands for a picture that surprisingly, would endure a decade of friendship.

 

We all knew each other very well.  We’ve had our disagreements over some issues and discussed everything with such passion and fire and yes, so much laughter and tears.  This time, there was more of the sharing in the discussion, a lot of listening and supporting roles in the hotseat, none of the tears and more of the acceptance that life can play with our fates without necessarily breaking us as persons.  Just… almost.

 

Standing by the decision to let go

 

Jen S was first on the hot seat.  There is so much in what she shared that I feel I am not at liberty to write about in this blog.  What I do know, however, is that I prayed for the same courage and firmness she had. Leaving behind 8 years of emotions is never an easy feat.  Going to work day in and day out, and going home to an empty room – I knew what it was all about.  I was there.  And I found that I am not strong enough to be alone.  I do not think it is easy for Jen S.  I just knew the firmness of her heart and the value she places on herself, being able to walk away from a relationship that is going nowhere.  I do not feel her sense of loss.  I feel the floating sensation of her being.  Suspended animation… what an inertia it is.

 

In between, I can sense the urge in Jenny Gump to be able to face her uncertainties.

 

 

Life together on hold

 

I wondered, as I looked at Cathy and Farlett siting together, just how prepared they were to dodge questions from the Yayas about the postponed event of the year.  I wondered how the drive and the compulsion to be together as one could seem to be so lacking.

 

Of course, it hits me now – the thought that a wedding does not, a marriage, make.  Being together is being there for each other in the most crucial moments of our growth as people.  Two lives can be spent in each other’s company and trying to catch up with each other as you both grow, even though the most formal celebration that is supposed to start it all in the eyes of God, man and the law was put on hold.

 

Having listened to Jen S and Cathy, I saw that early night two possibilities that was once open to me.  A dignified life by myself, though for how short or long, I do not know.  And two lives trying to be pieced together as one but finding that there is never enough time to go through the motions and banality of exchanging vows… yet.

 

Bitter-sweet, sweet-bitter…

 

After cakes and Vietnamese coffee, it was my turn to be grilled and roasted as I predicted.  Jenny Gump, my room mate and friend who thinks I should have married my bestfriend and adopted shrink, had a really bug cudgel to take on my issues.

 

More than ten years ago, Jenny was the one who persisted and went against all odds to go to my residence at 2:00 a.m. just to stop me from what she thinks will be the biggest mistake of my life.

 

More than ten years down the line, Jenny has not lost her hopes where I am concerned.  She still looks after my happiness like a guardian eagle.  Life is already twisted and ironic enough.  There are years when I think about how I made the right choice and there are simply years when I don’t wonder about what kind of deprivations I can further inflict on people, deliberately or otherwise.  The sweet life of mine that I live. The bitter after-taste of it.  And the sweet that will come again, just when I am about to lose hope.

 

I don’t have Jen S’ sense of dignity and capacity to live by myself.  Neither do I have Cathy’s exuberance in the face of all odds against being able to build decades of life of being together, through quirks and eccentricities.  I only have my own twisted beliefs and views of the world from the eyes of the people who I grew up with, of the friends who left me hanging during the most crucial moments of my life, and my own sets of beliefs when I too left some behind.

 

Losing my religion

 

Choices are only painful when we know that there are certain aspects of our lives which we must give up.

 

Who left whom in the case of Jen S.  Why are they staying together and yet, not so together, in the case of Cathy.  I, without my dignity.  Jen, who is willing risk losing the very source of belief  if not her parents, for a love that divides culture and a totally clear host of perfect table manners and disinfectant sprays on the bed before sleeping.  I can just picture my friend and former roommate in all her immaculately clean Japanese environment.

 

In more ways than one, I know Jenny Gump and I are more or less similar inside out, especially with our world views and philosophical and spiritual underpinnings.  Jenny Gump had always been defensive in all her relationships with the descendants of Mars.  Or so she claims.

 

I will take a jab at it here in this blog.  Jenny Gump’s Johari that I see is that she had always been uncertain, if not a little afraid that she will not have the life she had always envisioned for herself since childhood.  She is always a little afraid that all her hard work will be for naught.  She is always striving to have the best in her life and is more or less fearful if not worried only that she will, after all, have a mediocre life.

 

She takes her risks now, where the odds are higher than all other odds she’s faced in her life.  Still, she will push on, I know.  Because there is nothing like the persistence of the Yaya in her.  She will dare to lose her religion because she has the strength to live on based on her own principles and beliefs.  Uncertainties and all, she will take a risk – to simply walk out on yet another relationship or gamble on it based on econometrics and statistics.

 

Separate lives

 

Still they both share the right to being parents.  Still she looks so at peace with it all.  Yet another dignified human being who has remained an enigma to me all these years.

 

Gaynor calmly talks about being a mother to her two daughters.  She talks about motherly concerns but is really a societal ill.  The old-age disease of discrimination coming from a Jurassic tradition of nunnery.  The centuries’ old battle between the Roman Catholic Church and the Protestant as exemplified in the life of her kids at present.

 

Through it all, my friend is as mysterious to me as the day I saw her making her own choices in life.  What strength there is in her, to accept things as they are.  Maybe she too feels the hurt.  Her face certainly never reveals any traces of the whiplashes she had in making all those choices.  But for one fateful night, I know she too can go down over 6 rounds or margaritas.  And no thanks to alcohol for that.  I am just of the opinion that like me, Gaynor and I do the best that we can to live. And that is what Jenny Gump sees and she is cautious about the risks.  Because the risks and the returns are all there for her to see.

 

Buried, but still an unsettled hatchet

 

Marlyn sits, her beautiful elfin face the most settled among us.  She remains the strongest among the Yayas.  Fate has given her some of life’s most terrible blows and still she hangs tough.

 

These days, she is quiet.  Her bubbliness is not something I often see these days.  But maybe because I grew away from her.  And maybe because I remind her of someone who’s caused her the biggest pain.  And maybe, there was a time she needed me and I wasn’t there.

 

Silently, the walls whisper

 

Nharleen spends time with her live doll, Ashlee.  She sits there in her living room, the ideal mother and wife.  There was a time when she went after her dream across Southeast Asia.  The woman who deals with women’s issues is involved in some struggles of her own.  Being a wife and a mother is hard work.  But I look at her and I look at her husband.  I have to remain quiet and listen silently to the whispers of the walls around me.  She too, like all the Yayas, deserve their dignities.

 

What was I thinking?

 

There was a time I almost gave up the Yayas.  Too many voices trying clamoring to be heard because I refuse to listen.  And because I was pig-headed enough to think I know what’s best for me in my life.

 

Presently, I am in the process of shedding off another friend from my list.  Or maybe, I am the one being left out once again.

 

There was a time way back in College when my bestfriend Azel grew apart from me.  For the most part, I felt so lost.  There was the Yayas who saved me from my insanity.

 

And just as I was ready to let the Yayas go, they simply reached out their hands and their pleas.

 

Some friends leave you behind because they grew apart from you.  Some friends, you leave behind because you grow apart from them.

 

Some friends, no matter how you grow apart from them and they from you, they reach out and want to learn from how you’ve grown.  That’s when you know they are the kind of friends who will never let you go.

 

My friends are no longer two of a kind.  Now I have three.  The third kind is the best.  I hope I can the like the third with the other friends I keep.

 

And like the Yayas, find within myself the grace to forgive those who left me behind, including the one I found last year, and who I feel is now in the process of leaving me behind…

The messages started pouring in last night as I was trying to queue up for confession at the Opus Dei base in Ortigas.

The first one came from my husband - “It was good your trip was cancelled. There is a missing plane in Tuguegarao.” I immediately forwarded the message to my supposed to be fellow travellers last Wednesday and Thursday from Manila to Tuguegarao and back again. I forwarded another message to the IP Queen herself who made all our flight arrangements. Her response was, “Yes, I heard about it. It’s one of the chartered planes we also hire for our needs.”

Today, the first message I opened in my email is from my boss.

Personal message:

Aren’t you glad the commercial flight was cancelled?

Below is the link he sent regarding the missing plane.

Plane carrying 7 people reported missing in Cagayan

MANILA, Philippines — A small plane carrying seven people was reported missing today after leaving Tuguegarao airport in Cagayan Valley.

Reports said the aircraft, piloted by Capt. Tomas Yanez and Capt. Reiner Cruz, with passengers SPO2 Rolly Castanos, Celestino Salacup, Abelardo Baggay, Joel Basilio, and James Bakilan, did not reach its destination in Maconacon, Isabela.

The plane left the airport around 8 a.m., reports added.

Police are now checking with the Air Transportation Office to locate the missing plane. - By Dennis Carcamo (Philstar News Service, www.philstar.com)

Yes, I am glad I was not on that flight. I still have guardian angels looking after me. Now, I wonder how many lives I still have left…

I woke up today resolute on something. I’m leaving ten years of baggage behind. It’s a fresh start for me and it’s liberating.

My husband woke me up at 4:30am. I am leaving for Magat by plane at 11am. But I need to get some things done so I asked him the night before to set the alarm earlier than our usual. When the ringing started, I snuggled closer to him. He gave me a kiss and stood up to heat up water for my bath. He promptly went back to bed and I snuggled closer to him. As he spooned me, a sigh escaped my lips. Half an hour later, he was waking me up again and I knew I can no longer postpone waking up.

By 6:15am, I was out of the house and hailing a cab. At 6:48am, I was opening the front door of the office and saying hello to the unseen occupants of the room. “Where is the Love” started playing on my cellphone. I picked up a message from Ice. We have Bulawin Pandesal for breakfast.

I opened my T61 and started checking mails. Official only please. No time nor heart for personal mails at this time. My phone rang in a little while and the IP Queen herself is asking me if I had already taken the airline tickets from her desk. I confirmed and she asked me to drop by at the 3rd Floor to pick up scrambled eggs. Fifteen minutes later, I was in the pantry having breakfast with Ice and the IP Queen. Scrambled eggs, corned beef, Bulawin pandesal and lotsa chili, and yum!

By 8:30am, all baggages were at the van and we were off to Terminal 3. Still a short line on the way in but I was already on my toes. I was traveling with Nerie, one of our Admin Assistants, Totoy Bibo, our SHESQ Manager and the “Grandfather Rule”, our CEO. Enough reason to be on my toes.

We breezed through the check-in and paid the terminal fee. At half past nine, we were sitting by Mrs. Fields cafe and Grandfather Rule was asking us if we wanted to have something for breakfast. I declined the offer but opted to have Bottled Water anyway. Small talk passed around but I was still on my toes. I need to find a temporary person for PAH and I made a few phone calls.

An hour later, Grandfather Rule led the way to the Gate. As we entered the waiting lounge, a voice said over the speakers, “Flight 018 to Tuguegarao is delayed.” Grandfather Rule gave his endearing smirk to say, “What else is new?”.

We wait in the lounge for further announcements. I take a seat beside Nerieza while Grandfather Rule and ShesQ sit in front of us. Each one of us took turns checking our mails and text messages. Every half an hour, a voice overhead will tell us that the flight has been put on hold. Shortly before twelve, a new information is announced. “Flight 018 bound for Tuguegarao has been cancelled due to weather conditions.” They might as well have said that “Happy April Fools’ Day. See you tomorrow!”

Passengers started to grumble. We overheard some of them remarking that they were at the airport as early as 7 am. Actually, our flight was originally scheduled at 9:00 am but the day before, we were advised that it will be moved back at 11:00 am so we were able to adjust accordingly. But these poor passengers who didn’t have the same privilege we had.

We trooped out to the Arrivals Area to claim the 52.2 kilos of baggage we checked in earlier - all uniforms for our plant in Isabela. I asked a PAL Express Attendant if I can reimburse what I paid for the excess wait and I was given instruction on where to do it. Grandfather must have been really tired out by the long wait earlier so he opted to have coffee with SHESQ while Nerie and I claimed the reimbursement.

At half past twelve, we were weaving our way back to Makati office where Nerie was greeted with jokes about being jinxed as it was supposed to be her first time out in Isabela. Lunch courtesy of SHESQ revived our spirits and at 2:30pm, we were doing a telecon in lieu of the conference we should have attended personally had it not been for that cancelled flight.

Overall, the four of us were circumspect about the whole thing. As SHESQ remarked, the meeting was jinxed already prior to the flight. It has been cancelled five times already. Maybe, God was telling us something and we needed to listen.

Oh well, all’s well that ends well.

Next stop: Benguet again, Cebu, Isabela and Pangasinan.

Whew. I’d better go home early tonight and spend time with Brianne and Edwin then…

My mother was one of the busiest Moms during her day.  She was very dedicated to her job as a public school teacher, sometimes it even eats up her Saturdays and Sundays and even night time supposed to be spent with us.  But we never complained.  Mommy was complemented by Mama, her eldest sister who took very good care of us we thought at one time she was our real mother.

Having two women around the house to take care of us felt almost like heaven.  Mommy makes sure that the fridge is always full (and locked too because I keep sneaking a peek to see what I can feed my always hungry belly).  Mama, on the other hand, patiently prepares our daily meals.  As a result, we grew up in a household of glorious food, a legacy which my brother and sisters have kept up with all those years, even with Mommy gone.

Saturdays and Sundays are always the best time of the week.  This is the time when Mommy cooks a combination of Italian, Spanish, Ilocano and Tagalog dishes.  The motto in the Bool household was, money may run out at some point but good food can never run out.  Mommy was brilliant at turning simple dishes into heavenly delights.  Friends who come over for visit at some point will remark on the food we have.  And Christmas and special occasions are always marked with people commenting on the food both Mommy and Mama can whip up all in good time.

My two sisters inherited the knack more than I did.  These days, Christmas and birthdays and whatever special occasions are spent in Las Pinas with them doing all the cooking.  I just bring something which they no longer have the time to prepare.  And mind you, between the three of us, I’m still considered the worst cook.  They still laugh at some of my cooking, including my father who I haven’t quite forgiven yet because he thought frying siomai was silly (and I was vindicated because you now see fried siomai all over Mini Stop).

I miss Mommy and Mama’s cooking.  There is always that secret ingredient they put in when they cook.  My two Ates, they both learned about that secret ingredient earlier than I did.  So the years of practice probably made them better cooks. 

Give or take a few more years, my Ates and I will be able to pass on the legacy to our kids.  Over the years, we have discovered a few new ingredient to add, a new spice to use, and a new twist to old dishes that seem to have worked on our taste.

My fear now is for my daughter.  Very early in life, she knows what high quality, good food means.  Something which is not an exclusive result of the good food she eats from my side of the family.  Her fairy (ei, fairy daw oh) godmother, Myra, spoils her so.  Brianne is often kidnapped by Myra and taken to some fine restos around Ortigas and Makati area and I only learn about that when she is all full and happy to chat with me.  And she can appreciate good food by simply sniffing the air.

I try to keep her grounded, though.  Simple cooking at home on weekends has its own magic.  She never fails to tell me whenever I cook on weekends how much she loves those simple dishes I can whip up. 

Perhaps, Mommy and Mama were both right.  Cooking is all about love.  Cooking is all about patience.  And cooking is all about letting your love ones feel how much you feel for them.

Tonight’s recipe is sinigang, a simple Filipino dish taught to me by Mommy and Mama when I was in fifth grade.  I am going away again to Magat next week.  I have no worries about Brianne and Edwin missing me.  My fridge is very well stocked (I’m running out of food space again, I need a bigger one).  I spent the afternoon marinating chicken and pork, again with ingredients passed down by Mommy and Mama, with Ate Joy’s twist.  When I come back from the trip, I will make it up to them by cooking Mommy’s Pochero, which Brianne now calls “Mommy’s Beef cooked with love”.  This is a simple dish I learned from Ate Dulce, with my own twist: meeting Mommy’s Spanish version with my mother-in-law’s Bicolano version and harmonizing them as my own.  It will take me three hours of slow cooking fire to prepare it.  But as Mommy and Mama always said, you can’t hurry up good food.

(A special thanks to my friend Mon Soliva, who sent over a poem for some of my critiquing.  The list of food in his poem menu made me want to whip up something different again for Brianne.)

on the way…

nearly 11:00 am.  i jumped inside the first taxi i hailed and told him to take me to edsa shang.  i knew the yaya’s propensity to be late but i didn’t want to be that late.  i also know how horrible the traffic is along shaw boulevard on a saturday, and a pay day at that.

the traffic was moving, thankfully.  it only took me two red lights before i jumped out and briskly walked inside the mall.  even before i got to the door, i was already signaling to the lady guard to hold off her “bomb sensor”.  the woman didn’t understand what i was telling her and just shoved the instrument out to me.  i had to push it back away and tell her rather sharply not to.  then i unzipped my backpack to let her take a peek inside.  that was how she understood my meaning.  but she gave me a sharp look of annoyance anyway.  i gave her one of my best freezing stares to shut her up.

i ran all the way to the fifth floor of the mall and quickly went out to the mrt station.  there was a long line and i stood at the end.  i was standing there for three minutes already when i saw that the line i was standing on was actually for buying tickets.  i could have kicked myself.  i have already pre-paid ticket to the tram (they call it a train but agh).

i shoved the ticket in and went downstairs to wait for the next tram.  all the while, i was shoving the earphones of my mp4 between my ears.  the next tram stopped and i found myself inside the car.  mp4 comes alive with music and reo speedwagon croons slowly.  “and we climb, and at the top we’d fly… let the world know below us that we are lost in time…”

i smiled…

gateway

i called up jenny gump just as i stepped out to ask for directions to volare.  it’s been a very long time since i was in the cubao area.  i had avoided going there because there’s just too many people in the area.   also, it wasn’t the cubao i remembered when i used to live in the nearby area, along project 4.  for me, gateway is a zoo.

following jenny’s directions, i found my way in the mall just before araneta coliseum.  i saw a concierge and asked for directions again to volare.  i thanked her and walked inside rustan’s department store.  i wanted to find something to give nharleen.  it was her birthday, after all.  and i am excited to see her again after almost a year, with her being pregnant and all.

i found myself walking in the perfume store.  courteous sales people greeted me, enticing me to try on some of the new scents.  i smiled at them and politely declined.  then i got to the men’s perfume section.  i stopped by in front of the polo section.  i breathed in.  hmmm… a thought.  dismiss the thought.  i heard a slight movement of excitement behind me.  some people checking out davidoff.  i remembered i needed to buy myself new davidoff cool waters lotion.  but that can wait.  i’m already late for the lunch with the yayas.  i went upstairs, looked around and could not find anything for the pregnant woman.

volare

following the concierge’s direction, i went downstairs to find volare restaurant.  to my surprise, it advertised italian food.  hard not to spot a big bump protruding even as i was walking in.  nharleen was already there, talking to the food service attendant (aka waitress) about her order.  nharleen saw me and got up to give me a kiss.  she looked like a very plump but really beautiful expecting mother.  i absolutely adored her in her purple blouse and very easy white capri pants.  her hair was like katie holmes.  she looked like the school teacher version of katie holmes with her dark-rimmed glasses on.  and she didn’t care.  she looked fabulous!

we started chatting and i ordered bottomless iced tea.  i asked her about the baby and papa a.  she told me about how she accidentally found out she was pregnant, about her wonderful ob-gyne, Dr. Brion, about Ashlee.  Ashlee was calling her already as “baby brother.”  my infanticipating friend was radiant.

about ten minutes later, jenny gump walks in, all hot from the humid weather.  her hair wove down in waves about her.  she plopped herself down in relief.  i signalled to the food attendant and ordered iced tea for jenny gump.  nharleen started giving out her presents.  beautifully crafted wooden chopping boards from ifugao.  sturdy.  heavy. i was already imagining the kind of food i was going to chop down with it and all the juices flowing in with the juice from the wood.  it would be a good weapon against domestic violence too, i thought.

jen sexon walks in, all in yellow.  and like gump, she’s all hot and flustered from the humidity.  summer is really making its presence felt in manila this early.  and i thought, hmmm… not even spring yet in the northern countries.

pizza and pasta and the company of good friends

the four of us launched into discussions of babies and girlie stuff.  the mood was very light and relaxed.  everyone was so excited about the coming baby and the beautiful mom.  gump asked me about brianne.  jen s announced who will be late.  we asked about marlyn and we were told that marlyn is coming over for the lunch next week.  immediately, i did a double take.  say what?  jen s laughed.  marlyn got confused with the dates or something like that. 

and then a discussion about being rural rich but urban poor.  i had to laugh about that.  what a politically correct term to use.  i could sense an affinity with the term.  i am one.  had been ever since i started college.  actually, i realized i was that only when i got into college.  hmmm… actually, gump and nharleen echoed my thoughts out loud, all of us in the table are rural rich and urban poor in college.  now, that is a really warming thought. 

soon enough, a marlyn in red polo shirt walked in.  jen s and gump ordered another round of pizza.  nharls and i were happy to finish off the salmon pizza and the pasta with anchovies.  don’t ask me what their names are.  didn’t even glance at the menu except when i went looking for dessert.

in a few minutes, cathy sauntered in.  she looked like cathy.  she was dressed as casually as we are.  i remarked in amazement at how easy and relaxed we all looked.  like we were again back in our UP days.  and a trip down memory lane about wendy’s days ensued.

gaynor walks in.  she looks so fresh, with her hair all layered down unlike the straight one she favored just last christmas.  and the yayas were complete again.

kisses flew all over the place.  the passing out of gifts continued and i felt ashamed for not finding one.  but the yayas being the yayas, we launched into a very relaxed conversation about the baby again and the coming wedding.

cathy

it was time to talk about cathy’s wedding plans.  everyone asked if she has the date and the venue set already.  cathy remarked that she and farlett had already worked this out.  she said there was no fuss needed because the tagaytay thing will not really be a wedding but just a reception party for the bride and the groom.  everybody started talking excitedly but cathy held it off.  the wedding was gonna take place on a friday anyway in front of a judge.  no big deal.

marls asked about her wedding dress and motiff.  cathy said she was thinking about gothic.  and gump and i laughed.  typical of cathy.  i protested.  gothic is okay but please don’t turn it into a black and white thing.  plans were discussed at length, in between very relaxed laughters and giggles and excited flurries.

talks about shinji and some guys on a “do not resuscitate” status followed.  and i was really having a very good time.  must be the third glass of iced tea i was having and the company of gorgeous women.  not that they were all prepped up for glam.  these women in front of me, they don’t wear make up.  they were just ordinary people out on a quite humid day for lunch with friends.  and everyone was shining out.

the subtle looks behind me

i looked around for something sweet we can eat.  gaynor was buying coffee after and i wanted to buy the dessert for everyone to go with it.  alas, a caucasian guy walks in and orders dessert.  he talks to the food attendant and takes the table beside us.

i couldn’t see him but i can sense the way gump subtly touched up her hair in place and jen s preened between her eyelashes.  i smiled a little… hormones haven’t changed.  but nobody said anything.

starbucks

we transferred next door for coffee.  it was already 2pm.  with a lot of fuss, we managed to order coffee for “ever”.  of course, we got the dessert.  happy chatter continued.  i was content to sit back and look at the yayas. they noticed my seeming silence and remarked on it.  i said i was soaking everything in.  jen s asked if i would do the synopsis.  i said i might.  it’s been a long time since i really wrote something about the yayas and jen s has been taking her cudgels against me for it.  i smiled.  yes, everything can be soaked in… and more…

american quilt

the bond between the yayas started even before sandra bullock’s movie, the divine secrets of the yaya sisterhood, hit the theaters.  it started way back in college, but was solidified only when we had our pictures taken together during the graduation.  that was when we really realized we were good friends.

the bond was reinforced by a lot of movies and sundae’s at wendy’s seen and taken together.  including winona ryder’s movie, how to make an american quilt.

gaynor is our natural leader.  this is something we really haven’t voiced out but she is, in more ways than one.  as i sat there, with the yayas and my thoughts, i remembered one very important lesson passed on by gaynor to me at a time i was facing a very tough decision.  choose a man who will stand up for you.  what i learned on my own is that there can be more than one man who may be more than willing to stand up for you.  it all depends on the amount of time you both have in your hands.

cathy is the sensible intellectual, albeit eccentric most of the time.  and the best thing about her is that she doesn’t care.  you just take her for it and love her all the more for it.  cathy had always been my rational perspective whenever i need one, especially when i found myself on the verge of a midlife crisis a year ago.

marlyn is our sensible planner.  the charming one.  the one with the highest level of details when it comes to planning everything out with her life.  i sat across her during lunch.  and i could tell how much fight had gone off her but she’s still there, hanging tough.  probably more content with her life with papa d around.

if i would be asked to describe her, i’d say jen s is my own barbara streisand.  she is the funny girl who needs to see the movie, the mirror has two faces.  in that movie, barbara plays the supportive sister/daughter.  dig in the movie, jen, and see what i mean.  i know you will be reading this.  go through that scene where she has a confrontation with her mother.  i’ve told you about this a dozen times already.  dig in.  you’ll see there’s more of you than you see, my friend.

nharls is my bestfriend after azel.  she picked me up actually when i got lost in college.  and she had been that critical side of myself that never holds back.  i’m always afraid of her sharp tongue.  but nharls is the softest person i know.  and she is better than i am at understanding women’s issues.  and she is better than i am at fighting for women’s issues.  she is my drew barrymore in that movie, ever after.

that leaves the presently at a loss girl, jenny gump.  every witty, ever posh.  and she has a phd to boot.  she was my room mate in ipil and she experienced her first christmas with my family after college.  gump is, and will always be, that level-headed girl among the yayas when it comes to love and relationships.

in the american quilt, there was a question posted by winona ryder’s character.  “if you were to choose between spending your whole life between a friend and the one you love, who would you choose?”

women’s lives have been intertwined by the many activities and experiences they go through together.  they tell their stories in various ways.

my friends, the yayas of PA96, we tell our stories in these get togethers we’ve been having for more than a decade already.  a lot of them i avoided.  some, they missed.  still, we were there together.

we went through so much of our pains together…

and we had chopping boards and endless gifts to prove it.

until the wedding and the arian party, yayas…

she sits comfortably in her chair, her eyes rapt.  i sit quietly in a corner, my hands making sweet melodies on my laptop.

“mommy, i know how to play the game now.  i used the help tool.”

i smile at her.  “well, that’s why it’s there.  you see now what a little patience can do?”

i begin to sing an old song to her in the tune of mary had a little lamb.  “patience means you have to wait, have to wait.  patience means you have to wait..”

she smiles sheepishly but cuts me off.  “eeeiiii, mommy, please stop singing it to me.”

i smile indulgently at her, knowing i have already made my point.

she goes back at her game and i go back to mine. 

after a very long pause, she blurts out, “mommy, my dinosaur knows how to use the loo.”

i smiled again in amusement.  how many nine-year old kids who are not britons do you know who uses the word “loo”?

“eeeeoooowww!” i responded to her.  “is your dinosaur trying to turn the whole dino park into one big loo?”

“of course not, silly mommy. it has its own loo.”

then she goes back to playing.  and i go back to playing too.

“mommy, what do you think i should get for my dinosaur? a hat, a shirt or a bag?”

i think it over.  “maybe a shirt to keep it warm?”

“yes, i think so too, mommy.”

long pause again.

“i think it’s way past your bedtime.  please shutdown, baby.  we still have to go to the family lunch tomorrow.”  i called out to her.

she closes her own laptop.  then she lies down beside me.

“mommy, do you know what my dinosaur’s name is?”

“tell me, please.”

“angel.”

i laugh.  and she laughs too…

2.12.09

Under the stars, walking along a park in Makati

 

I wanted to touch lives and make a difference.  But I didn’t know how.

I came back from the Netherlands with the fire gone out of me.  I had felt beaten and I had no more strength to fight back.  I was an old woman.  Dorothy had commented how changed I was.  She was trying to pinpoint it.  How can I tell her I had let myself die inside out?

Caloy observed that I lost the warrior in me.  I had seemed… beaten.  He said I needed healing.  Meditation was his remedy for me.  A way for me to channel my energy.  And to shield me from destructive acts.  My well-meaning friends.  I don’t know how I could tell them.

I plodded on, unsure…  Took on a job without any hope of career movement.  Then a small break.  A little bit of pride-swallowing.  And I threw myself on to my job like there was no other day.

It was a slow start.  I didn’t know what my real role was.  I was unsure of everything.  Attention to details was all I had.  Little by little, more work came.  And still more work.  And I developed friendships along the way.  How much difference can it make, sitting by the pantry listening to people.  Coffee and laughter, comfort food and angsts, a warm touch here and there and we go back to the toil, a bit warmed all over again.

Cold weather came.  Bumpy roads and long stretches of travel time.  There were days when I simply don’t seem to finish anything.  People I met.  Uncertain, questioning.  What can I offer them?  I didn’t know if I have anything I can offer them.  Only an assurance.  A comforting word to tell them that I can do my best to let people on top about their concerns.  Delays along the way.  And for every concern addressed, another one comes up. Some seemed so little.  Others seemed as if there are no solutions on sight.  Always, they unravel in front of my eyes.  I am one but I am only one.

What kind of affirmation did I expect?  Did I have the right, in the first place, to seek for affirmation?  I was brought up in the company of noble teachers.  They knew what service meant.  I learned from them.  Is there affirmation in store for those who were born to serve?

In a novel, Og Mandino once wrote: “Tenderly treat the lives of those whom you touch as if they would end at midnight.”  A noble task indeed.  One I did not know how to do.

There are windows about yourself that are known to the world and to you as a person.  And there are also windows which you prefer to keep the world out.  And too, there are windows that the world sees in you but you don’t see.

Almost two emotionally taxing hours of mirroring exercise in a company-sponsored activity.  I didn’t know what I should say to a lot of people.  I barely know them.  What possible good can you say to these people.  With a great effort, I reached out and held their hand and began to tell them something.

I started the mirroring exercise prepared to close myself against possible hurtful words I may hear.  I was wrong.

I was humbled.  So humbled.

I never knew what a difference I could make in the life of people.  To hear more than ten people talk about that difference, it makes my knees shake.  Perhaps, it was just as well that I was holding on to their hands.

I thought I had learned about humility in San Beda.  Last week, I found a new source of humility.

I was beginning to lose hope.  I was beginning to run out of sources of inspiration.  I was being torn, one by one.  I was already beginning to doubt a lot of things.  Where am I leading myself into?  Did I take the right path?  Did I make the right decision a year ago?  Two years ago?  Ten years ago?

There are days when you doubt the wisdom of your decision.  Still, there are days when you simply find affirmation in the most unexpected places, from the most unlikely people.

As for me… I will always be this mess.  Crying… sobbing as I hear affirmation in the hands of people I thought I was not reaching enough. 

I had found a new source for my inspiration.

je suis cassé

mais vous m’avez guéri

pour cela, je suis reconnaissant

 

 

Finding Autumn

10.02.08

Davao Eden Nature Park

 

A relaxing morning in Davao’s Eden Nature Park.  I am already freshly showered and dressed, waiting for my roomies to finish theirs so we can go up to the resto and have breakfast.  I am sitting here by the foyer, looking at glorious sunshine filtering through very tall trees.  Morning music fills the air, thanks to those cicadas and I-don’t-know-what-they are called insects making their early noises.  Every now and then, yellow and brown leaves slowly plummet down to the ground, soon to be nourishment for the earth.  No signs of life or movement coming from the cottage ahead.  You can stay here and forget the rest of the world exists after all.  No telephone calls to disturb you unless it’s your cellphone ringing.  How this part of the world sees the bigger world, I don’t know.  It sits here just like a maiden from the olden times, waiting for a straggler to stumble by, discover its beauty and hope to God they return for her to fulfill promises made in the middle of the night.  Until the mist is shattered by the sound of basketball hitting the cemented ground somewhere…

Yonder is where we’ll have part 2 of the corpcomm sessions.  ‘Tis a place which reconnected me yesterday to a distant part of my memory, something I quickly forgot for some painful reason.   In front of the session hall stood a playground.  Several zip flights on the right.  Kids scrambling around for one.  My nostrils automatically sought out particular smells which should have been pervading the air by now.  But my senses felt only loss.  A memory of Irish, Rommel, Herni and me in Schev suddenly appears.  We were taking pictures of kids in the playground of Schev.  Irish held hostage one of the zip flights, easily sliding up and down with her light weight.  I followed and no surprise there, I stopped in the middle of the zip and lost momentum to go up the other side because I was too heavy.  Rommel was taking pictures and Herni tried to pull me up.  We were happy as kids once again.

On the left stood a set of slides, swings and other structures meant to give enjoyment to kids.  Unbidden, the image of a laughing Amada popped up.  Polin was there, holding Angela safe.  Agnes and Jason watching in amusement.  It was an afternoon spent in Breda with the De Joode kids.  Carefree autumn.  A holiday from the pressures of life.  And I wished suddenly for autumn to come back…

 

Don’t let anybody tell you who you are

It’s okay to let go, you’re like a shooting star

Remember all you wish for

Believe they will be true

You will never find yourself anywhere else

So find yourself in you…

 

-          Hannah Montanna, Find Yourself in You

Friday madness.   Where did the day of Friday madness go?  There are one hundred fifty one (yes, 151) resumes sitting on my desk waiting for me to kill them one by one.  Intel has announced closure of operations and massive lay offs in gigantic proportions loom in the papers.  That’s only a few days after Barack’s historic inauguration.

But  yeah.  The signs have been there as early as November, when I started interviewing engineers from Texas Instruments.  It continued on in December last year when I started getting a lot of applications from former BPOs and call center employees.

Yep.  Life goes on.  We manage with this kind of outlook by looking at resumes of people looking out for jobs.  It helps that after going through these resumes and have cut them down to 10 possible candidates for pre-screening, I can talk to family members and friends who bug me about how their interviews went also.

Then I see I go online and she says, Go Federer!  Wow! The rush of excitement hits me.  I can almost imagine Federer running down with intent concentration to hit the ball.  And I think to myself, it would be good to spend a day along the banks of Lake Geneva, reading Paulo Coelho again and idling in the sun.  “But you’re so far away…”  so Carole King croons behind my ears.

A yahoo mail notification pops out.  Nharleen is infanticipating for the second time.  Yahoo indeed!  And she wasn’t even aware that she was pregnant until she thought she had sore throat and the doctors were telling her that there’s nothing wrong with her.  Immediately I thought that this should be a good excuse to celebrate.  A vision of the cosy resto bar two streets parallel to Benavides comes to my mind.  I went there last year just a few days before Christmas to pick up a bottle of wine – a 2005 Shiraz.  I had taken a look at their menu and saw they had beef carpaccio.   I sigh.  Amsterdam on a cold January day seems a thousand years ago.  I wish I had someone to buzz or call who is just ten minutes away.  I need a drink.

I tells me about patience when waiting for a job.  I tell her I know somebody who needs to exercise more patience.   And that somebody also has a lot of expectations from people around her, it becomes scary.  Scary because when she becomes disappointed, she watches for the rain.  Then the conversation heats up.  She tells me she’s not like that.  Yeah, she just waits for beer or wine.  Then she reminds me, oh don’t forget about crackers and cheese.

Amazing how a thousand memories long buried are resurrected by crackers and cheese.  I have altogether forgotten about those crackers which Sandy - that sweet, blonde Dutch bartender  at ISS- serves me whenever I climb up on a chair beside her bar at ISS.  Those crackers and the cheese with magnificent herbs bring me to life.  Throw in some red wine or Drommelsch and I’m good.  The red wine brings the glow back into my cheeks and I am a happy sot.  Never waste the dreary Dutch weather on thinking about rains.  There’s always good cheese, strong and old mustard which I love to hate and the bitter-sweet taste of the wine to make me feel happy enough to throw a dart or two.  Put in more people in the bar, especially on a Thursday night, and it’s happiness all around. I and I look forward to these, other than her rains.

Happiness, of course, do not come simply in crackers and cheese.  There’s always laughter with friends.  A walk on a cold wintry day along Queen’s garden, with Nancy talking beside me or just simply being silent.  And what a cold day that was for both us as we tried to lose ourselves into our readings.  A moment away from the puddles of our minds. 

I heave another sigh.  Nancy and I were not the only ones who lost ourselves during the transition from winter to spring.  There was that lunch with Sahar by that deli around the corner beside Prinsbaar.  When we sat around enjoying cold sandwiches on a cold weather.  Discussing issues but never discussing our issues.  We all respected each other for that.  There we sat.  All three women who can be women of considerable strength.  And we were as vulnerable with our thoughts sitting around in the deli but managing to be tough enough like that tough bread we ate.

And then the reminder of winter lost me back along the quiet streets of Amsterdam.  I was busily chatting with Ken who came for a visit.  Ken, you poof.  Carpaccio was great and the Vietnamese food behind the streets of the red light district.  The sweet aroma of marijuana pervading in the streets of Amsterdam and my unquiet thoughts as we tried talking about things I cannot now remember. 

A sense of peace came to me as I gazed down at Amsterdam from the rooftop of the Hilton hotel while munching on my breakfast.  It was then that I figured out what I had set out to do in the Netherlands.  It was then the enormity of the choices I will make weighed down on me.  It was then that I knew that inasmuch as I had learned to love the cold, cold country, I needed to get back to where I came from.

I knew that even as I sat gazing at the sunset from Seinpost rooftop.  Or just lying around by the sand along Schev Beach, waiting for the fireworks to come as Ayanda and Pem chatters happily or hearing Dina marvel over the sound of the waves.  Even as I enjoyed the company of Adrianus, Kazuyo, Avi, Nur, and the Indonesians.  Even as I sat inside the tram just going around the city of Hague and discovering for myself that I can be alone and still be as wretched as in the company of firneds.

But I will always remember the fun of being around the Indonesians, driving down our bikes to Delft, walking around Centrum or shopping with them along Brugge, Vienna and Prague.  I am disconnected with this kind of life.  Or so I thought.

Until I reminded me about that rotting chicken.  Oh, that was really one of the highlights of having I for a roomie.  How that incident really brought sunshine to my life in the Netherlands.  She made a trip to Konmar.  She was barely a week in Bazarlaan 25.  And already she was wreaking havoc in my grey mornings and nites.  On a fine morning, I woke up to smell something really suspicious from my ref.  As a result, I cleaned out all my old cheese inside, including the fresh ones that I really liked.  Still, the strong odor pervaded my nostrils.  I left for school hoping that the clean up will eliminate the smell.  Alas, I returned, tired and weary and ultra bored from my class.  Still the smell pervades the air.  I start hunting it down.  Lo and behold! Inside the vegetable bin calmly sat a harmless chicken.  I gets back inside the room and I asked her if she put chicken inside the bin.  Nonchalantly and calmly as a child who trusts her mother will not hurt her, she said yes.  I didn’t know whether I should spank her as a recalcitrant child or laugh.  Laughter won.  I told her you don’t put chicken inside the bin.  You freeze it.  I being I, she said she didn’t know that you were supposed to freeze chicken.  She’s only a lawyer by profession.  How she managed to pass the bar, I didn’t know.  I suppose, that’s why lawyers lord over courtrooms and not kitchens.  Leave the kitchen and the ref to the cooks and chefs.  Never let a lawyer near a kitchen and they start filling up the ref with strange odors.  Chicken ended up in bundles of plastic bags and inside the garbage can.  I prayed that nobody died from smelling that rotting chicken afterwards.  Certainly not that yummy looking caretaker that a lot of women in the ISS have been swooning about.

So I managed to lift me up from one of my bad moods today.  But still, the resumes here clamor for my attention.  It takes a lot from me to go over them, knowing these are people hoping to find a job or a better opportunity.  I only need one for the position.

So where is this all leading to?  These rumbling thoughts on a Friday filled with melancholia and madness?  It all leads to freedom from toil and stress.  To Rhi-rhi dances, Iskox hugs, Boo-boo Abu clinging.  To a whining girl who pesters me about a little bear named Angel who chose to stay in Las Pinas over the New Year.  To a bedroom under construction for months on end now.  To a husband who wishes for hot soup with lots of meat on a sunny and humid day.  To the batcave and to friends from long ago years of battling my demons at San Beda.  To the weekend and another week of staying cooped up on my desk.  And to another round of being on the road up north.  Up to Highway 33, looking over my shoulder when I gazed at a blue moon when I spent my birthday on the road last December.  Probably, another day to laugh.  Another day, a different place.  A different time.  A different kind of drink.

 

I sure hope the road does not come to own me.  There’s so many dreams I’ve yet to find…  But you’re so far away…

 

Cheers!

 

There’s so much of the world out there.  And life is happening everywhere.  Sometimes, it just becomes too difficult to see it and I can only manage to get a glimpse of bits and pieces of it.

Living in a whirlwind of activities has sucked me into endless schedules and countless interviews with people the past few weeks.  I have yet to see the bottom of my bucket with these interviews.  With every success I earn in selecting people, two more new needs crop up and now I have to deal with 18 empty seats waiting to be filled up.  If this is a dance, I am seeing all of them dancing without a partner and they are waiting for me to usher in new faces when the guests are trickling down in small sputters.

Meanwhile, as I take a few moments to do a quick glance around, I see friends who are surveying their life for the past seven years with friends and colleagues, saying goodbye to souls lost in the battle for living, getting married, transferring jobs and coming back after living for some time overseas.

My daughter is out there, enjoying her day at school while my husband gives me a call to remind me to get enough sleep so I don’t collapse and the mountains in front of me are still as a hush.  I look up at them like I was asking whether or not they will permit me to climb over so I can say "this, too, will pass".  But they give me no answers.  The trees wave at me, one with the wind.  I am braving the solitude of my own thoughts again.

Melissa gave ma a look two nights ago that says when am I going to realize that I need to slow down?  At the end of the day, there is no room for me to slow down yet.  Not with those 18 empty seats.  I make small progress and things take time.

Meanwhile, I gain more fat and my belly is becoming more rounded from all the sitting around and eating too much comfort food.  This morning,  I stood ground and ate only cereals and yoghurt.   Irish scolds me online and I laugh.  Good God, laughter is all I have right now to get me through this.

Probably not.  A memory of the feel of my daughter’s skin as she wiggles her feet to me as she lays asleep.  Some phone calls of concern from my husband.  Some friends who remind me I am becoming more stupid everyday and I need to get back on track.  And this prayer:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

I am smelling the breeze…