"Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be," so sang my father when putting me to sleep until I was eight. He knew I was afraid to be left alone in the dark, to sleep amongst the many stuffed toys accumulated over years of birthday celebrations.
Sometimes he’d allow me to sneak in the master’s bedroom so I can sleep beside my mother, while he’d settle on the floor. My older sister thought of me as a huge coward —- “Baby damulag," she would tease —- but dad would hush her to stop. Then he would start humming the lines, "Beautiful, beautiful. Jesus is beautiful. And Jesus makes beautiful things of my life." I am at complete peace as he smiles along with the words of this chosen lullaby.
Until now, my dad loves to sing to me and my siblings: At the hallways as my sister forces herself to sleep in broad daylight. At the kitchen when my brother hastily eats breakfast. At the family room while I’m trying to concentrate on America’s Next Top Model.
He can get really annoying sometimes but over the years, I have learned to carefully listen to my father’s words. Long have been “Que Sera, Sera” and “Jesus is Beautiful” gone in his song book and with the aid of MTV, he has gotten familiar to the likes of Katy Perry, Taylor Swift and David Archuleta. He doesn’t get the lyrics right all of the time; what he makes sure of though is that he gets his message across and right through to us.
Clearly, my father’s random singing is not-so-random at all. He is a man of many words for he is a lawyer, yet seldom is he able to express in straightforward conversation what he wants to tell his children. He doesn’t want to impose, that’s why, so he chooses to sing which, for him, is “one of the most powerful ways to make people listen.”
Whenever I attempt to sing to him, he lifts his hand to signal “stop” and laughs. I wasn’t blessed with the nicest singing voice, he reminds me with another chuckle. Then, his face folds into a serious form as he tells me next that I don’t have to sing to make him listen. “You have a way with words, a gift that even in your silence makes me understand what you want to mean. Parang dumadakdak ka parin.”
Today my father turns 59. I’m still at the office, polishing some pages for tomorrow’s turnover, especially looking at the little sections I have written for this issue. These are social events and society weddings. While I enjoy putting together these pages, I would want to exceed this kind of writing in the future, one that would make people listen and take action consequently.
I always tell my father this and when I do, it’s as almost he’d reply with a line from “Que Sera, Sera” or “Jesus is Beautiful” —- the most reassuring thing in the whole world.
Still exhausting the last hour of my overtime so for now, I hope this will do: Happy birthday, dad —- the family “songer”, my hero.
P.S. I’m bringing home some real goooood mini cakes, so you better be awake when I get home! Love you, Pop!!!
My mother thinks that I should stop wearing my heart on my sleeve. She says it makes me prone to deception by some authentic jerks masquerading as the modern day Prince Charming. She believes it is the main reason why I mistake human lust (skin against skin) for human trust (hands intertwined).
In my defense, life is too short to spend doubting what-could-have-beens. If and when the potential of something great starts to bloom in existence, I close my eyes and dive into the unknown with all fingers crossed that the other person would do the same. I love the idea of courtship and getting-to-know-yous, but at the same time I like being an open book. If I take interest in who you are, then I’d make sure to drop subtle hints and assure you that from this point on, you and I, we’re going to explore where this might lead.
And in the totality of my dating experience in a span of one year, I have come to expect less from boys:
I don’t expect you to call or text me everyday, but have the decency to confirm if tonight’s a go or not. I don’t expect you to drive me everywhere, but I think it’s just right for you to take me home after a late night. I don’t consider every meet-up as a “date,” but don’t call me ‘babe’ or ‘dear’ when you’re not ready to fall. I don’t expect you to worship everything about me, but I’d appreciate it if you would stop giving me crap about my short, “lesbian, boyish” hair or my “extremely thin” frame.
I have given so much leeway to the boys who have taken interest in me in as much as I take interest in them.
Yet at the commencement of the official 3rd or 4th date, I always receive the, “I’m sorry but I’m just not good enough for you” exit strategy. Last night was the most recent blow. After bombarding me with stressful, unnecessary text messages, he decides not to show up. When he realizes his mistake, he calls and expects me to “stay.”
Okay, maybe I’m that fair lady at the end of the finish line who waves her lilac hanky at the knight who refuses to give in and instead, chooses to play mind games.
Sure, I’ll always be the girl who waits. For you and for how long? At this point, I can no longer tell.
I do not recommend watching heartbreaking romantic flicks alone on a Saturday night, not especially on a rainy one while in your heart print pajammies with a huge Chef Tony’s popcorn bucket on your side. Folks, no. I do not recommend it; it is pseudo suicide.
Yet if you take some kind of pleasure in bawling like a baby on crack and letting the whole FB universe know about it, then go ahead. Pop that [fake] DVD in and click play.
I know I did.
"Something Borrowed" follows the story of two childhood best friends Rachel (Ginnifer Goodwin) and Darcy (Kate Hudson) who fall in love with the same freakishly hot dude, Dex (the actor’s name, I refuse to Google…just think that he can pass as Tom Cruise’s twin, only less freaky).
It’s very cliche on print, but the complications of their relationships are way too twisted: Party girl Darcy gets engaged to hot dude Dex, who has been head over heels with his law school study partner/ cute nerd Rachel for as long.
What hot dude Dex does not find out until the engagement is that Rachel has been trying to reel him in way before she “arranged” Darcy and Dex’s meeting during a law school post-exam party. In other words, MU (mutual understanding, for the unfamiliar) sila. ‘Yun nga lang, hot dude Dex never found the goddamn balls to face the girl of his dreams and tell her that life without her is unimaginable. For her part, Rachel thought that “boys like Dex would never fall for someone like her.”
Hot dude, seriously, before leading on someone (Darcy) and before breaking a supposedly unbreakable friendship (Rachel’s and Darcy’s), figure out your feelings first! And girl, haven’t you heard that two hot people who get married usually turn out to have ugly babies, 9.5 out of 10 times?!?! That’s why “boys like Dex” would rather go for “someone like you” (someone like Rachel translates to cute and smart) not only for the benefit of your offsprings, but also to let justice rule in this world! Okay, joke lang ‘yun. Theory lang namin yan ng Tatay ko. HAHAHAHA.
Sorry, I just have a lot of emotions right now. I’m on my period, OKAY?!? HAHAHAH okay, too much information. Told ya this blog would be write all, tell all.
But really the most important lesson that I picked up from the movie is that guys should make the girl of their dreams the first option. As what Rachel felt throughout the movie, it sucks being the Plan B and being chosen only by default. I know it’s not easy to let your walls down, but see I just want you to know that you deserve the best, you’re beautiful (naaaaaks, Lumi-Lil Wayne hehe).
So to shake off the cryfest, I decided to watch “Friends with Benefits” next. Which was, I should’ve known, was a wrong pick because I was stuck at 2 a.m., scrolling down my phone book and trying to determine who I can give a booty call. CHOS. I’m not that kind of girl. :)) Though I found the plot a tad too predictable, Justin Timberlake was a real charmer in that movie. Plus, I didn’t really think that Mila Kunis could be that funny. Overall, good watch.
Still I didn’t want to go to bed with this “omg love me” feeling so I opted for this cutesy ABC original high school movie called “Teen Spirit.” Prom Queen dies during the night of her coronation and was sent back as a “spirit guide” to make the least popular girl in her school as her replacement for the most coveted title aka for popularity’s sake. Dead Prom Queen is given one week to do that and if she does, she gets a ticket to heaven. It was actually cute and not at all forgettable like “Mean Girls 2.” No, definitely was not a suckfest. And oh, Tim Gunn (YES, that Tim Gunn) played Heaven’s gatekeeper.
Three movies for P100, not baaad. So if you find yourself totally dateless on any given Saturday night, I think you should follow my lead. Just that I do not recommend watching such heartbreaking romantic flicks alone but if you must, do not come back crying to me and tell me that I didn’t warn you. HAHA!
Hope you guys had an incredible Saturday night and wishing everyone love and awesomeness on this wonderful Sunday morning!:)
The house is moving; everyone is finally awake. In a quick jolt, I get up from bed, with last night’s telephone conversation still playing in my head like a transcript recording gone berserk. I try my best not to dwell on it too much as I scamper towards my sister’s empty room. She hasn’t arrived from her 10 PM duty the night before. I hope she gets home safely, as I incessantly pray whenever she’s not around.
On the other end of the hallway, my brother’s humming is suddenly interrupted by my Mom’s nagging, "Malapit na dumating si Mang Rey. Bilisin mo!" He does a mad dash to the bathroom and makes a final mirror check. “‘Yan na si Mang Rey, daliiii!!!” The school bus driver honks twice and off he goes to school.
Downstairs, Dad is browsing through Philippine Tatler’s September issue. His eyes glide from page to page and stops when he gets to our Staff’s spread. From the corner of the steps he sees me and offers a warm morning grin and a thumbs up for the feature. At that moment, Mom spots me as well; she looks rested from yesterday’s pilgrimage.
"Kumusta ‘yung trip nyo, Mommy?"
"Okay siya. Worth it naman. Sabi ko nga one Saturday drive tayo dun eh."
She was talking to me, but I wasn’t really listening. She didn’t deserve to be ignored, but I was also waiting for my turn to bring up something.
"Mommy, may sasabihin ako. Huwag kayo magagalit, please?" I said. Twice. Thrice? I don’t recall. My parents looked at me strangely as my hands twitched from the side to my tummy. Their eyes switched from mine to my stomach.
God, they might be thinking I was pregnant.
"Oh my gaahddd, virgin pa ako!!!"
The ice was finally broken.
When I eventually tell them what I wanted and needed to, the house fell quiet. My mom nodded in silence and my dad was obviously formulating something appropriate to say. Nothing came out of no one in the next ten seconds or so, but we knew that we were all in agreement not to disagree this time.
My point is, I’ve always been hesitant to bring up certain “serious” matters to my parents for fear of disappointing them. I’ve made a string of bad decisions in the past —- few I regret, some I try to forget. But it still remains that I have grown to become better from each of these mistakes.
The thing that most surprised me this morning though was a heartfelt text message from my father after he dropped me off at my shuttle station. It was a very personal and a long message that ended with, “I love you, u will always b my litle girl,” a far cry from the usual “K” that he sends me all of the time. And I mean, ALL OF THE TIME. :))
Almost 13 hours after I’ve drafted this post, I’m still confused from last night’s telephone conversation to which I’ve sent frustrated tweets earlier (which, by the way, no longer exist for the curious). By now, both siblings are probably back at home.
My editors are expecting me to go out partying tonight because I look “polished, different and thin,” as compared to my everyday dainty get-up. Bleh. Home sounds like a good idea tonight, yes? Besides, I have to bring home some kind of a “thank you for being my rock, mom and dad” gift. Maybe this leftover moon cake I had earlier? Hehehe.
I have a family that is far from perfect, but I am more than blessed to grow up in an environment full of love, of compassion and most importantly, of humor. And for that, huge thanks to the Big Boss above. :)
At 21, I have recognized myself as a full-fledged dreamer. I have started dreaming dreams far beyond myself, allowing them to expand tenfold and believe enough for them to happen. I can’t say that I’ve been succeeding much but as of far, I’m pretty pleased with the intensity of every rollercoaster ride.
And since I’m running out of space for more mental notes to “aim for this” and “clinch for that,” I have decided to write these dreams, big and small, down on this beautiful hardbound journal.
Say hello to my latest project:
The journal was given during a first date several weeks ago, and it was miles better than receiving yellow lilies and bite-size Snickers bars (though those would be awesome in the future, too hehe). It smells of genuine leather and has somehow managed to rub off the scent from his car’s seat.
I still have to ”bling out” the cover’s interiors and fill its pages with life goals, personal reminders and inspiring memories yet I can already tell that this Power Journal is packed with magic, love and insanity. So get your (art) gear ready; the unknown waits for no one!;)