Resolutions, Schmesolutions...
It's not the New Year yet, but it pays to plan ahead. I'm no longer in the habit of making "resolutions" that eventually get forgotten within the first couple of weeks; instead I set goals that I hope to achieve within the next year (and won't kick myself if they don't follow through...). So far, here's my list:
1. Learn to drive a motorcycle (behind my mother's back, hehe); if at all possible, actually
own one. Or at least borrow Kuya Joe Dean's - big savings on gas! My Mom's worst nightmare was that her son would figure in a fatal motorcyle accident...I wonder how she feels about her oldest
daughter on an, erm, Yamaha...
2. Learn to cut hair properly. Professionally. One of my pet peeves when it comes to the "kids" is overgrown, unkempt hair (mwaha, what irony), and
Ate Honey can be regularly heard saying "cut your hair! It's getting too long!" I've actually cut hair without knowing exactly what I was doing - Jocelyn's turned out perfectly layered and not bad looking at all; but Ryan just looked plain freaky (well, it wasn't my fault that he insisted on keeping the sides long!!). And, on occasion, I will take one of our streetpeople to a decent beauty parlor so their hair can be done right - Obet's idea of a haircut was getting China-chop bangs, so I took him to a gay barber for a fashionable short-hair look that wouldn't make Kuya Joe Dean cringe. Tess was the latest beneficiary of one of these trips to the salon - she kept nagging me to cut her hair "V-style" (what the heck?) and so I finally had a professional do the honors. All for the sake of good hair. Anyway, a few months ago I dearly wanted to enrol in the Ricky Reyes Institute for Hair Dressology or whatever it's called, but the class schedules conflicted with my teaching load. But now that my classes are out of the way...*evil laugh* Snip, snip, snip.
3. Lose more weight. 'Nuff said. Jules (who's lost I think half his body weight since I first met him in the mid-90's) was gushing over the difference (yeeek, I was looking at old G9 photos, and man, was I looking "prosperous") last Sunday, and excitedly egging me on. As of this writing I can now fit into my 2002 denim shorts...and I was still smoking that year I did Atkins pre-Europe. Yeehaa!
4. Sit more closely at the feet of the Master. And focus on what He's telling me, without being distracted by the lesser attractions of the world. The Lord knows I have the attention span of a four year old, but He generously lends His grace and allows me to hear what He's saying. Most of the time, anyway. :-)
To be continued...
A Very Merry G-9 Christmas
Most of the old familiar faces, a couple of new ones - all are older, wiser, some are bulkier, a few are thinner, but everyone's still looking good after all these many years of Christmassing together.
Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us, once more...Have a blessed Christmas, G-9!
Me In Da Magazine
Well, it's out...
(On women who quit their jobs and changed course for the better, podcast
here, December 2005 issue)
Excellent job by Pia the writer/stylist (although if you really know me, I don't sound, much less
write the way the stuff I'm supposed to have said turns out as...it was chop-chop'd from my taped interview) and Marge the HMU expert...unfortunately, I don't look as good everyday. My hair's not even that long anymore (hallelujah...although now that I've taken to wearing my much shorter hair down, out of a ponytail, everyone keeps saying "your hair's gotten so long!" Duhhrr?). One cool thing is that they coincidentally photoshopped the 40,000 peso chair
orange in my shot.
Astig. (not exactly the word to describe the "glamour" but y'know what I mean...)
Best Friends
Tonight, after a very long day (and night!) indeed, I capped off the evening with my two oldest and best friends in the whole entire universe. These are two people who don't care what I look like after a long, tiring day; who don't care how late I come by, as long as I actually
come by; who don't care about the crap I say because they know me better, sometimes even more than I know myself. If you don't have an oldest, best friend at this point in your life, I advise you to be quick about it and go get one ASAP. I'm more blessed than most: I have (at least) two, male
and female, and we're going on 20 years togetherforever next year.
As I've said once long ago, the sum total of the best qualities of each of your closest friends equals the personality and character of your ideal match. Thus, anyone who has the gregariousness, intellect, good taste, inner strength, independence, and openmindedness of Miles plus the friendly approachability, sense of adventure, humor, leisurely laidback attitude, faith in God, wanderlust, and listening ear of Neyney is probably the "one" in my book. But he'll have to go through Miles and Ney (the lesser evil, IMHO) first. Good luck with that! :-)
Type 9
Ate Juwip, one of my fellow missionaries at He Cares, piqued my curiousity on the subject of enneagrams and personality types and whatnot. I finally took a few of those online tests and determined my own personality type, which pretty much measures up to what I've observed about myself:
Profile Summary for Enneagram Type NineHealthy: Deeply receptive, accepting, unselfconscious, emotionally stable and serene. Trusting of self and others, at ease with self and life, innocent and simple. Patient, unpretentious, good-natured, genuinely nice people. / Optimistic, reassuring, supportive: have a healing and calming influence — harmonizing groups, bringing people together: a good mediator, synthesizer, and communicator.
At Their Best: Become self-possessed, feeling autonomous and fulfilled: have great equanimity and contentment because they are present to themselves. Paradoxically, at one with self, and thus able to form more profound relationships. Intensely alive, fully connected to self and others.
Average: Fear conflicts, so become self-effacing and accommodating, idealizing others and "going along" with their wishes, saying "yes" to things they do not really want to do. Fall into conventional roles and expectations. Use philosophies and stock sayings to deflect others./ Active, but disengaged, unreflective, and inattentive. Do not want to be affected, so become unresponsive and complacent, walking away from problems, and "sweeping them under the rug." Thinking becomes hazy and ruminative, mostly comforting fantasies, as they begin to "tune out" reality, becoming oblivious. Emotionally indolent, unwillingness to exert self or to focus on problems: indifference. / Begin to minimize problems, to appease others and to have "peace at any price." Stubborn, fatalistic, and resigned, as if nothing could be done to change anything. Into wishful thinking, and magical solutions. Others frustrated and angry by their procrastination and unresponsiveness.
Unhealthy: Can be highly repressed, undeveloped, and ineffectual. Feel incapable of facing problems: become obstinate, dissociating self from all conflicts. Neglectful and dangerous to others. / Wanting to block out of awareness anything that could affect, them, they dissociate so much that they eventually cannot function: numb, depersonalized. / They finally become severely disoriented and catatonic, abandoning themselves, turning into shattered shells. Multiple personalities possible. Generally corresponds to the Schizoid and Dependent personality disorders.
Key Motivations: Want to create harmony in their environment, to avoid conflicts and tension, to preserve things as they are, to resist whatever would upset or disturb them.
Yeah, that's pretty much what I'm all about. Or at least, so I think.
Becoming A Woman
One is not born a woman, one becomes one. - Simone de Beauvoir
Today I realized why I'm so discriminating in my recent choices of female friends - much more so than when it comes to the opposite sex. No, I am not - perish the thought - a misogynist, but all these Jeannie-come-latelys I've come to know at this "late" older-and-much-wiser-don't-have-to-won't-have-to-put-up-with-crap stage of life have an extremely tough act to follow, an almost impossibly high standard to be measured against. The bar for women I can truly call friends, i.e., people I can trust, respect, and love, has been set (un?)fairly high, for the most part by a group of some of the most fascinating females I've ever had the privilege of knowing: the UP Law Portia Sorority (est. 1933 and still going strong).
For four solid years in law school, I lived, loved, and laughed with a diverse group of fabulous women, each of whom was uniquely amazing in her own right. Sure, I drank with the boys and got along with the fratmen famously (one of the guys wrote part of my yearbook write-up, naming me the perfect companion to San Miguel, right up there with
sisig) but at the end of the day, it was my sisses who I'd come "home" to, my support and my shelter in the ever-brewing storms of law school life.
I was 20 when I entered Portia, oh so many, many years ago. Twenty. Seems like a pretty mature age when you think about it, but I was as green as you can get. Although I thought that I was "all that" after graduating from college and working in the world, I was actually just a female on the way to becoming a woman...and boy, am I thankful that I had the opportunity of not just becoming a woman, but a
Portian. The difference? I can't really put my finger on it, but it mostly has to do with inner strength. Every Portian, by virtue of the sum of what she's endured in her own life plus the "breaking down" and consequent building up she experiences not just during her initiation period but throughout the course of her active life in the sorority, is, simply put,
strengthened within. And most of that strength comes from the faithful support of the sisters, who hold you up when you feel like you just want to lie down and let the worst take over. Or when you're acting stupid because you can no longer think straight. I remember one terrible day in the middle of the "SR" Org Room fiasco that resulted in the bombing of the 3rd floor men's CR, the inter-frat rumble, and the closure of Malcolm Hall two weeks before Christmas break - an ugly poison pen anti-Portian letter was making the rounds and I understood for the first time why fratmen were driven to beat each other's brains out. I was in such a murderous rage that I was ready to haul the perpetrators to court for libel (to begin with; I was thinking about getting my Tau Gamma connections to perform acupuncture on *bleep* and *bleep* with fishball sticks). Thank God for my
ka-batch Gen Cosare (aka Sharon Cacho), who calmed me (and my dear, loyal frontliner of a sis Judessa Llorin Botor) down and so sagely counselled me not to dignify the indignity by fighting back (a portentious indication from the normally combative "palaban" Gen - from what I last heard from her, she experienced a radical conversion to Christianity and is now happily married to an American pastor in California).
I learned so much about what it is to be a woman from the women in Portia - and not just a woman, but a woman of strength and substance. I "grew up" under the guidance of unforgettable females whom I will always look up to as mentors. One thing that gives me great pride is the fact that I became a Portian (i.e., I was one of her "babies") during the term of LP Susan Pearl Delfin Villanueva, salututorian of Class 1991, bar topnotcher, activist, stalwart of female advancement, accomplished lawyer and respected educator, devoted mother, and object of affection of law school heartthrob Joey Ochave. And my future Ninang
sa kasal, hehe. LP Susan is one of the wisest, most intelligent, and level-headed women I know, not to mention one of my favorite people in the whole entire world, no matter what I had to endure under her as a neophyte (although it helped that despite her "5-star" pretenses, her
malambing Ilongga heart of
mamon always prevailed in the end). I can say that she is one of the women I looked up to and continue to look up to - and I will always be, even when I'm 80, a "junior" subservient to LP Sue. For life! Her IVP when I entered, and later LP, Rhodora (Dolly) Llamas Policarpio-de la Cuesta was as sweet as LP Sue was tough, and from her I learned that kind of balance - sweetness and strength. And a genuine sense of caring for her sisters...I learned to take care of people from LP Doll. And, from my own LP (I was her EVP), LP Rachel Pulmano Follosco, I learned that you can be the best you can, and whatever you want to be, without a man's help (although having a man is nice too, he he). LP Rache is my idol when it comes to independence and women power: even in law school she could measure up to the best of the male species - great in business, competent in management, responsible driver...and unmistakably female too in her homemaking talents, including cooking and sewing curtains!!
Sa'n ka pa?? She's actually the only reason why I'm not married yet - I respect her so much that I won't get hitched until she does. He he.
So many other Portians hold a special part in my heart and have contributed to my "becoming" a woman. Marivic (Lourdes Marivic Kalalo) Punzalan-Espiritu was my lifesaver during a particularly depressing time in Paris (she bunked with me while I was on the continent for school and she was traveling through on vacation) when everything seemed to be going wrong; I hope our plans to travel together through Europe push through one of these days, because we already agreed that we make the perfect travel companions for each other! My best friend in Portia (
muntik na kami mag-DLS, thank goodness for Sis Meilou Sereno's extended Persons exam) Charisse Marie Brinas Jaraula-Juan, who went through a lot with me as well, and who thankfully ended up with another of my best friends in law school, Alphan Francis Saturnino (Nino) Juan. Bonggacious "Bongga," Marie Florence Lajara de los Reyes, my IVP and frequent source of joy, laughter, and
chismis. Vicky de los Reyes (niece of Pacita de los Reyes-Phillips), my first boss in my first job, who is a rabid Portian through and through. Liberty Dumlao, my "alter ego," and drinking/former smoking parner; Pingki, Peng, Verna, and the other "baboys," Bembem de la Torre, my batch head and confidante; Steph Cas and my other "babies,"
pasaway and otherwise...I will stop here before I mention/forget to mention every Portian who's meant anything to me (and that's a whole lot of Portians!). Anyway, today I was reminded how all these amazing women came into my life and influenced it for the better, and made me the
woman I am today.
I know now why I am so discriminating in my female relationships, and why I expect so much from every woman who may be a potential friend:
All excellent things are as difficult as they are rare. Not every female can be a woman; not every woman can be a Portian. :-)
Special
mwahs to my batchmates (Batch 1990-B) - we just celebrated our 15th year as Portians last December 2: Isabel de la Torre, Eloisa Manlansing, Lynette Tecson, Genevieve Sharon Cosare, Deanna Santos, and Charisse Jaraula-Juan.
The Seven Year Itch
Just a few days ago, we were talking about Paolo Coelho's body of work and his style of writing and of "personal legends" (per The Alchemist). This is the last article I wrote for the Star prior to my conversion - appropriately enough, it saw print on May 31, the Friday before my renewal weekend of June 1 and 2, when I started to discover exactly what my personal legend was. And Who I'd be living it for.THE SEVEN YEAR ITCHThe only thing I can remember about
The Celestine Prophecy is that there supposedly is no such thing as coincidence. Everything happens for a reason; there are no such things as “isolated incidents” (which was how NAPOCOR officials described the last Luzon-wide blackout). Each and every event in our lives, no matter how trivial, is woven into the fabric of our existence, or, if you believe in predestination, has already been tightly sewn into it.
Strange things have been happening to me over the last few weeks (I can’t really speak for *ex-writing partner*, but strange things have always happened to him). At a wedding, I had an attack of depression when a former professor said that it was too late for him to give up the law and do something else, since the law was all he knew. A few days later, right before our cases came up for hearing, a fellow lawyer and I were joking about how far we had gone since graduation, when he wistfully mentioned that all he wanted to do was drive a taxi for a living (a ridiculous idea, given the state of the city’s traffic; I said I wanted to count screws in a hardware store). Later on, at a fashion show, I bumped into another fellow lawyer who looked absolutely mahhhvelous – he said he was working as a “go-fer” for an events outfit. Two other friends from law school appear to have chucked out their legal careers to become Howard Stern wannabes. And when a photographer friend noticed the grimace behind my smile after he asked how I liked being a lawyer, he said “girl, you’re ready for your next career change!”
Maybe it’s the seven-year (career) itch. The certificate on my ego wall says that I was admitted to the Bar on the 2nd day of May 1995, so I guess this explains why I’ve been scratching myself sore lately. Once upon a time I thought that all I wanted to be was a lawyer, and after that (miraculously) happened, I thought that all I wanted to be was a partner in my own firm (that too, by some stroke of luck, came to be). But what happens after your five-year (or seven-year, in this case) plan has run its course?
Paolo Coelho’s
The Alchemist had been on my “to-read” list for quite some time, especially after it was highly recommended by a friend (who would later leave mainstream corporate life to become a chef and put up a B&B). And so one day when I strolled into a bookstore without meaning to buy anything, I picked it off the rack, noticed that they’d knocked the price down by several hundred pesos, and headed to the check-out counter. The premise of the book is startlingly simple: it’s about realizing one’s Personal Legend, or “what you have always wanted to accomplish. Everyone, when they are young, knows what their Personal Legend is. At that point in their lives, everything is clear and everything is possible. They are not afraid to dream, and to yearn for everything they would like to happen to them in their lives. But, as time passes, a mysterious force begins to convince them that it will be impossible for them to realize their Personal Legend.” And, while that mysterious force “appears to be negative, (it) actually shows you how to realize your Personal Legend. It prepares your spirit and your will, because there is one great truth on this planet: whoever you are, or whatever it is that you do, when you really want something, it’s because that desire originated in the soul of the universe. It’s your mission on earth.”
How I miss those days when life was so much simpler; when adults would ask you what you wanted to be when you grew up and you could change your answer every time. As an adult, you don’t have the same luxury, although there are more and more doctors who want to be musicians, bankers who want to be poets, lawyers who want to be anything but. Even though they’re all grown up. “People learn, early in their lives, what is their reason for being. Maybe that’s why they give up on it so early, too. But that’s the way it is.”
Personal Legends need not be grandiose, nor do they need to be realistic. They can be as simple as fulfilling the desire to travel, just like the young shepherd in the book, or as far-out and fantastic as *ex-writing partner*’s dream of becoming a matinee idol. The most difficult thing perhaps is pinpointing what exactly your Personal Legend is, after which it’s all a matter of “following the omens” (or the “strange” things that seem to keep happening to you) until you reach your treasure at the end. And “the closer one gets to realizing his Personal Legend, the more that Personal Legend becomes his true reason for being.” However, as Santiago the shepherd came to realize for himself, the closer you get to the realization of your dream, the more difficult things become.
I don’t know what my Personal Legend is. Perhaps I haven’t been paying close enough attention. Perhaps I have yet to discover what it is. Perhaps, like the old merchant in the book, “I’m afraid that if my dream is realized, I’ll have no reason to go on living.” Or perhaps, after rereading the definition of a Personal Legend, I’ve been living my Personal Legend all along, and just don’t know it.
“To realize one’s Personal Legend is a person’s only real obligation. And when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it.” I guess my Personal Legend and I need to sort each other out first, hopefully within the next seven years, before I start itching again. Someone pass the calamine lotion.
31 May 2002
