Always in pursuit of something, that’s my state of mind.

I’m a masochist. (Wow! What a leap?!)

I wrote the entry below exactly a month ago. I wanted to post it, but I couldn’t. And edited it on my last trip heading home.

Why post this now?

Because today, I realize that I pain still. For YOU!!! (Official Blog Soundtrack, Fallen for you by Sheila Nicholls , OST: High Fidelity)

My Welsh boy came. And he’s perfect if only we can be together, if only he can be close by. But he’s not and you supposedly are. Maybe that’s the only reason.

No maybe, I just love torturing myself. I’m a masochist.

*** Previously written blog entry follows.

If you read my blogs…

Part of me is embarrassed by the thought of you reading into the deepest recesses of my heart, my mind, my soul, that which I bare to my friends, my readers, my memory bank. I’ve never been too detailed in my blog entries but I know with all of them I write, every word amounted to an earthquake in my system. I shake up these things that bother me by exposing myself this way. Even with the possibility of being laughed at, ridiculed and/or simply dismissed.

I reckon that I am.

I’ve said I’m a looney bin… but at that time I was just hoping someone would tell me that I’m not. This time, I’m making a statement: I’m abnormal.

What is normal anyway? Everyone has their own special peculiar way of being. Wouldn’t it be such a big bore if everyone thought, felt and looked the same way every time. It’s nice to have someone in tune with, once in a while, but at the same time, the peculiar ways are what make things different and more fun.

I’m not complaining about being abnormal… I just miss having someone in tune with once in a while.

COME BACK!!! I’m not saying I’ll wait, but I wish you’d come back soon enough.

The Paraws are sailing slow now. The waves are still.

Suddenly there are no more traces of the days that I’ve spent with you.
The wind howling on a dark night sky. The rain getting us almost drenched. Holding your hand. Kissing you on a tree lined beach.

Your life moves on. And mine does too… sort of… somehow just stuck in a dream.

I saw a picture of you today. That will surely make me smile.

You are terribly missed.

Tonight was not a very good night at café del mar, there weren’t as many customers as before. And there’s something I picked up from Dan about possibly trying to lure customers to come in and join us for a drink at the bar. So whenever there are people passing by I’d shout out: “Come and join us for a drink.”

I hoped people would actually stop to sit at the bar but I didn’t brace myself for what was to happen next.

Three men stopped and came near us and introduced themselves, told me they’ll be back after 30 minutes and join me for a drink. I said sure I will wait. With this was some sort of a deal that I made with Anne, the bartender, to make sure that she doesn’t put a lot of alcohol on my drinks. (They seemed sleazy of sorts.)

After 30 minutes, as I was almost about to leave, one of them came back and sat very near me. And making one thing clear: that I should go to his hotel with him after a few drinks. Which I politely replied: that I can only be good company until the bar and nowhere else.

I felt that I disappointed him but he said he’ll be back after 5 minutes, that he’ll just have to get his friends to come along with us at the bar. After about 3 minutes, I decided not to wait. I started my walk home. As I was along Bombom bar, the other guy saw me and this one guy went up to me but I immediately told him: “oh, I’m going home.”

He said: “I hope to catch you tomorrow.”
I said: “I’m always just there every night.”

Now, I only think it was my red lipstick that attracted him. The lipstick match my dancy red skirt. I can’t help but be flattered… Someone actually finds me beautiful. He’s not bad looking either, just older and not my type, plus I’ve promised not to get very well acquainted with tourists anymore.

One only has enough hope signals… and sometimes you hit a dead spot.  And you don’t want to just lose hope altogether, so you keep the little hope you have and save it for the more important occasion.

First time I’ll ever get into details…

I have always regarded gut feel of higher importance than any thoughtful process, although sometimes I fail to listen to it. I feel that I run the risk of totally closing or shutting it off.

Two Saturday nights ago, I passed by Charlh’s, the bar where my roommate works. He wasn’t there, but Bong was, and he just bought my old cellphone so I had to pass by to check how it was going with the phone.

Bong was by the bar when I saw him, so I gave him my proper hello beso and sat down just beside him. A seat away from him is a bearded white fella. I made a comment in Filipino: “Look at that guy, he looks like he’d violently smack you first before he makes you happy.” Which Bong replied to with a proper: “I like that.” He stood up to get me my usual pineapple Malibu, that they’d sneak for me.

Now there were two empty seats on my right and three on my left. A few moments later a family arrived and asked me to scoot one seat to my right, which I did. And then later on, another friend of theirs arrived and I was made to scoot one more, which makes me seated right next to bearded fella. This of course sparked a conversation between the two of us. After the proper introductions, and knowing that he’s by himself on the island, I told him what I know he should do, plus I was able to convince him to eat balut. And he courageously did, not like the sissy Brits I’ve met (heheh). This didn’t just catch my interest, it made me take a second look at him and realize that he’s a decent fellow. After all he’s a spokesperson for the United Nations in Afghanistan. How cool is that?!  And beyond the beard is a very angelic face that needs to taste more sunshine.

After my usual drink at Charlh’s, I usually head home, either stopping by at Villa Camilla for a quick chitchat with Jingjing or possibly just heading straight home and doing some knitting while watching an episode of Grey’s. But after the drink, Dan asked me to join him to dinner. I politely agreed knowing the guy probably needs company badly.

At dinner at the Paradiso, I had “THE” most stimulating conversation with a human being from the opposite sex. So I again agreed to take him to the dancy-dancy bars on Station 1. We stopped by at this bar, which we thought was cocomangas, confused by the sound coming from both sides of this small bar. We had yet another stimulating conversation over my maitai and his long island (I think). After, we decided to go dancing in Club Paraw, where heavy rain sort of trapped us inside. We danced… and… danced.

We were together for breakfast the following day and had to take him to Blue Mango for possibly the strongest coffee on the island (just the way I like it). Had yet another tennis match of beliefs and opinions. I was also taken by his subtleties (He didn’t flap the newspaper when he opened it, thank God! Or else I’d have started sneezing endlessly.)

We agreed to meet at Charlh’s after my work before dinner. We went to Kaiseke, and shared a bowl of Sukiyaki and plateful of ultra fresh Sashimi. Enjoyed a bit of people watching. I introduced him to the girls at del mar after. Which amazed me yet again, how he was so able to just start chitchat with the girls and even follow conversations in tagalog (yes, I’d occasionally drop an English word or translate altogether, but he was intently focused on picking up on just cues and facial expression) The Hollander guys even think he’s been on the island  so long that’s why he could pick up on the conversations. We passed by Charlh’s after, but headed home right away as well. But of course we’ve agreed to meet for dinner again the following day.

The next day, I decided to drop off my rent deposit money at my landlady’s resort which is 5 establishments away from his hotel. I decided to knock on his door and just say hi and possibly drag him out of the room so that he could get some sun, he does need a good tanning, anyway. Instead of a quick hi, he decided to get lunch so I accompanied him wherever he wanted, which took us to Crepes St. Michel, there he got to meet Julia, my friend, manager of Crepes.

When I got home to change for dinner, I read a text message telling me that my grandmother passed away the night before. I was deciding whether to go on with the date or to just stay in the room and mope. I guiltily went on with the date, I’m sure Nanay will understand. I went to “our bar” to meet him again. I immediately told him that I maybe no fun that night but I still want to go out with him since I don’t want to be by myself. We had dinner at the Steakhouse, and passed by del Mar after. 

On the way home, it started raining. We braved through the rain. That was so much fun… getting drenched, holding hands through a dark coconut tree lined beach path. I told him I want to stay with him that night. To make the fantasy complete, right outside his resort before going in I looked up to face him and kissed him with the rain falling on my face. 

The following day was a scheduled day off. So after getting the door to our place fixed, I went to meet him at the resort for breakfast. I had coffee. We went paraw sailing, my first time. The waves were mad (scary) that day, but upon reaching the almost deserted puka beach, I was glad to have done it. I took my third dip in Boracay water after 3 months of being here. I was more than glad to have gone Paraw sailing that day, I was thankful I shared that moment with
Dan. I took him to Smoke for lunch, and he said he loved the food, I fed him local fruits as well. We had to stay in Crepes and have coffee and wait for the rain to let up.

We met up at Charlh’s before dinner. He wanted more Filipino food so I took him to Island Chicken Inasal. Stopped by at Crepes to pick up Julia and went to del Mar. After a few rounds of drinks and after being bullied by some Hollander guys… we headed to Charlh’s. Julia, went home. And we stayed drinking with Bong , Jensen and Shake, who was celebrating his birthday that night. We stayed at the bar till I could walk home with my roommate, Jensen. We went separate ways that night, but we were going to see each other for breakfast before he left.

That morning, I knocked on his door and we stayed in. Until it was time to really have breakfast and say goodbye. We didn’t promise anything to each other. I was even honest about how wrecked I was the past month. And to him coming back here is a great thought but he also can’t promise me that he will. And I can’t promise that I will wait, as well. After all, my one-year limit seems to be all that is going to be for me on the island.

If he does come back within the time I’m here, that’ll make me more than happy. If he does… yet, of course, I can’t wait for a promise that was never made.

Dan is positively the gentlest and most thoughtful human being of the opposite sex I have ever met. I’m happy to have followed that gut feel of smiling back at him that first night at Charlh’s.

I miss Dan. I miss you.

(Trivia: He even shares the same nickname as my Dad)

My grade is a C+ find out your score here.

by Phil Collins (OST: Tarzan)

Come stop your crying, it will be all right
Just take my hand, hold it tight
I will protect you from all around you
I will be here dont you cry

For one so small,you seem so strong
My arms will hold you keep you safe and warm
This bond between us cant be broken
I will be here dont you cry

And youll be in my heart
Yes, youll be in my heart
From this day on
Now and forever more
Youll be in my heart
No matter what they say
Youll be here in my heart
Always

Why cant they understand the way we feel
They just dont trust what they cant explain
I know were different but deep inside us
Were not that different at all

And youll be in my heart
Yes, youll be in my heart
From this day on
Now and forever more
Youll be in my heart
No matter what they say
Youll be here in my heart
Always

Dont listen to them, cause what do they know
We need each other, to have and to hold
Theyll see in time, I know

When destiny calls you, you must be strong
I may not be with you, but you gotta hold on
Theyll see in time, I know

Well show them together cuz…

Youll be in my heart
I believe, youll be in my heart
Ill be there from this day on
Now and forever more

Youll be in my heart
No matter what they say
Youll be here in my heart always

Always…
Ill be with you
Ill be there for you always
Always and always
Just look over your shoulder
Just look over your shoulder
Just look over your shoulder
Ill be there always

An ode to my Nanay

About a month ago I made a reference to my grandmother (blossoms)  in one of my blog entries. When I went home less than a month ago, I became so busy with less important things, I failed to visit my already ailing grandmother. To say that I regret not having seen her last June is a huge understatement.  She just passed away a few days ago, last time I saw her was during her 85th birthday in March. It was a huge celebration held in the house where I remember growing up in.

Last Friday, I entered that small house she moved into after my grandfather passed away, and I was welcomed by the very familiar scent of Sampaguita that adorned her white coffin.

I expected myself to cry buckets and buckets of tears when I see my grandmother’s formalin induced body, but I didn’t. I noticed how different she looked from how I remember her the last time. Her lipstick color was off. She uses this very red lipstick. And she never leaves the house without it. All through out the night, I kept glancing at her stiffened body… but no tears.

That body surely isn’t my grandmother, it doesn’t smile back when you smile at it. (that would’ve been scary) My grandmother was a strong woman amidst her frail frame. As she was withering away to old age, she looked tinier and tinier, and felt more and more frail (whenever I guided her out of her bedroom to the living room, it feels like she can break anytime) However, she’s  still the same strong woman I knew. Kidding around with everyone, I always make her agree that I’m her favorite grandchild. Although, I think I failed to make her feel that she’s my favorite grandparent, I was more busy with mundane things and immensely failed to pay attention to more important things.

I really didn’t cry so much. When you die at age 85, I think that death should be more of a celebration of a well-lived life: having 5 daughters and 1 son; bearing 18 grandchildren total; with 6 great grandkids; all of whom love her dearly. When they were about to take her body out of the house, my cousins, the ones who took care of her before her death were all wailing loudly. At that time, I didn’t cry because of the death, but because I envy my cousins who spent their days around her a lot.

At the church, we were given white roses to put on her coffin and we all had a chance to pour holy water on the glass. Seeing the many people who paid their respects by attending the mass, once again I was overcome with short burst of stifled tears.

Everything was going smoothly, at least from my point of view. Until at the cemetery, before we had the last chance to view the body. As the wind was starting blow stronger. The man tasked to open the coffin door unmindfully opened it without help. The wind plus the weight of the door almost toppled the coffin over but only managed to unhinge the doors from the box. Honestly, I felt that was my grandmother making her presence felt for the last time. So when some of the people started buzzing about the incident, I had to take a moment and just try not to mind it. But when it felt like they wouldn’t stop especially the woman behind my only hearing ear, I had to turn back and say “You know what, it doesn’t matter.” Then the necessary silence.

When we were asked to look the last time, I didn’t go very near, it wasn’t her anymore, anyway. I still managed to cry controlled tears. It was my cousin’s daughter’s words that felt like a breath of fresh air. After they have fully cemented her niche, Barbie runs towards her mom and says, “Wala na si nanay.” (Nanay is gone.) It was final, yet the thought of a barely-three-year-old kid mouth those last words puts a smile on everyone’s faces. 

Now, as I write this aboard PR325, a song plays on my itunes. It’s a good thing it wasn’t a full flight. No one sat beside me. As tears, the kind that wasn’t easily stoppable) starts flowing down my cheeks, I write this entry listening to You’ll be in my heart by Phil Collins. (OST: Tarzan)

What catches me is at the last note, there’s a tiny woman’s voice whispering: “… always.” As her body decays with each passing day, her memory will live on in our hearts. I will never forget  her laughter; her kiss; her huge bra (that is a pain to wear and remove); the red smock that she wears around the house when I was growing up; her curly salt and pepper hair; her banig on top of the mattress cushions; her speckled body; that moisturizer thing that she puts on her face at night; the way she believed that her saliva can actually take the itch of my mosquito bites (dunno if she unlearned this); her meals which composed of a slice of mango, rice and fish sauce; the mole at the center of her nose; her red lips; her smile; her… always.

I’ve never really spoken about what my job is. Y’all know I’m a Salon Manager. With the word manager, I’m expecting, you’d all think it’s paper work, suppliers, ordering, purchasing, inventory, a little accounting, more paper work, staff management, a little customer servicing, and of course I’d have to cut hair, right? That’s what I thought too…

Now since, it’s just me managing it, I took to liberty the chance at using my other skills to the salon’s advantage: a bit of graphics designing for promotions, a little researching on the computer, especially now that I have a wifi ready laptop. I really intend to use this laptop for all the amazing possibilities that I can do with it. I even want to design a good webpage for the salon. I was even able to use it, so that a customer could pick his hairstyle (since I couldn’t find a fecking hairstyle magazine for men in Manila.)

Sure, I do some personal emailing here and there, some friendster checking, but in all honesty I’d spend about a total of 1 hour (spread within the day) checking and replying to personal emails.

Now, I’ve been told off. Apparently, they’d rather that I’m not behind my computer. Bored to death. Sitting in front of a mirror being the Salon’s poster girl. I was even offered a daily 100-peso stipend just to have coffee and chat with people. Now, I get that part. Plus, I should go out to the bars at night (Nigui-nigui, in particular. Oh no, not there, I don’t think so. Unless, I see a friend there, I doubt I could hang out there.)  But the argument to me was that I’m a manager and not a marketing manager. Ain’t the marketing manager the one who goes out and has coffee? And the Salon Manager pushing the keys behind the computer?

I just really don’t get the argument.

And I had a fecking precedent. The previous Salon Manager really did go out a lot at night, but that was his choice, getting clients was just a bonus. Believe me I like going out and I do market the Salon, talk to people, and tell them what I do, I even tell them to visit the rooftop bar that we have. I’m sure, my referrals have gone up the rooftop.

But I’ll do what I’m told.

I really don’t need the feckin free wifi at the office. The island is full of free wifi zones!!! I can do my personal online stuff , I don’t even have to spend anything really, if need be, I can just hang out at Café del Mar. Or this resort where my friend is the Asst. Manager (and this is very near where I live) Or this dive center where I am now at.

But I also wish, they’d understand why I’m behind the computer.

It has been exactly a week now since I moved in our apartment. It’s a really nice cozy place. The first time I saw it, I knew it needs a lot of work but it screamed “PROJECT!” to me as I see the empty spaces.

Raves:
1) We have a foyer which doubles as clothes drying area.
2) A potential mini (herb) garden by the bedroom window
3) Once you enter the main door, you are welcomed by a living area, a kitchen and a mini-bar.
4) A door to the bedroom is located at the end of the mini-bar. The room is spacious enough to fit 2 single beds.
5) There’s a built in closet so there’s no need to buy those cheap plastic ones for storage.
6) Right across from the bedroom door, is a door that leads to a winding staircase that takes you to the bathroom.
7) It’s a good size bathroom with a toilet and a sink.
I have a roommate and I’m sharing the month’s rent, which is actually less than what I used to pay for.
9) My roommate owns a dog which would make me a dog owner myself (Whoopty-doo!) And Ewo is such a cutie dog.

Rants:
1) Clotheslines needs a bit of courage before getting cleaned; that or two tablets of Claritin.
2) The mini (herb) garden is possible but I just found out that Ewo, the dog, enjoys feeding on them grass.
3) The living area, which could double as the dining area, and the kitchen, and the mini-bar as of now looks too bare.
4) The previous owner did not surrender the keys to the main door, so until such time when my roommate goes to Ilo-ilo (to buy a doorknob) I will have to wake up at 3 or 4 am everyday to open the door to my just coming home roommate.
5) The built in closet, however, needs a door change. I think the termites have found a home in there. Also, I had to muster up enough courage just so I could clean the space I picked and line the entire area with Manila paper. 
6) The steps to the bathroom are way too highly spaced (not meant for my short legs). Plus the bowl doesn’t have a working flush. And the sink faucet doesn’t work as well.
7) Speaking of flush — Water. Currently, we are running on deep well water — NOT POTABLE! So every night, I fill up my water bottle with drinking water which I also use for brushing my teeth.

(Beep! Beep! (I haven’t told Jensen yet)) My roommate designated himself as the house decorator so currently it’s mostly his design taste. The only design I have in the living area, a map of Boracay White Beach is posted on a wall. He just decided he can write on the freakin’ map: where we are, where I work, and where he works. IT’S MY FREAKIN’ MAP!!! I don’t really mind writing on it, it’s just that I wish he told me first or he wrote on it when I was there.
9) The dog, as dogs are, tend to pee where it wants. So now the living area would smell of dog pee in the mornings. Why not let the dog out? Oh, there’s a hole outside the fence that the dog can climb out of, thus setting him free. And one more thing about dogs, they have parasites. Where do these parasites go when he shakes them off?

I can go on Ranting and Raving about our new apartment. As with anything, there’ll be something good and bad. As of now, I’m enjoying the privacy and the space. And I can’t wait for it to unfold as something I can call mine, that’ll reflect who I am.