Braising my Beef

i am a believer of divorce.

i actually fear the idea of getting married in the philippines because philippine marital laws dont have divorce. you can get legally separated, but i dont think you can get married. or something of the sort. there is just too much hypocrisy that i cannot understand.

i am a believer of divorce, only because it acts as a security blanket for me, in the event that my "i do" becomes an "i dont". in any case, i will move hell and high water to make it everything work. (well, a marriage isnt always sweet, that much i know.)

up until i met priscilla, grace’s cousin, it never occurred to me how jaded a 13 year old can get.

we were in my room last night, trying to decide which dvd to watch while his father fixed carlos’ chandelier/fan upstairs. i was asking her what kind of movies she liked. based on experience, when i was her age, i liked all those sappy teeny bopper flicks. i like all the love and the cheese. (yes, until now, i like watching those things. i recently saw princess diaries 2, the royal engagement. hehe)

and then she tells me. oh i like the ones with a lot of action, you know things going on.

and i asked her, dont you like those sappy stuff that makes you want to get married? (hey, ive been wanting to get married until i discovered dating.)

and she tells me, oh, i dont want to get married.

shock. a princess who doesnt want a prince.

in my head, i was thinking… "is there anything wrong with my childhood?"

we watched half of "the beach" until it was time for her to leave.

as soon as she left, my roommate told me all about her. she’s thirteen, her mother abandoned her, sent her to foster care and her dad had to go to court to prove paternity and to have rights over her. her dad and his present wife are separating and she is caught in the middle of it.

grace and i talked about this. we talked about our families. apparently, we didnt only share apartments, we also share the fact that our dads cheated on our mothers. we also share the same hypocrisy that our parents stayed together in spite of our dads’ philandering.

i believed in divorce because "the sake of the children" wasnt important to me. i was a child, and to me, separated parents mean more expensive gifts and a bigger allowance — that much i know from the friends that i have who have estranged folks. i was immature and materialistic. i was easily bought off with a truckload of ferrero rocher and a dozen blue roses. i hated the fact that husbands and wives blatantly lied to their kids. i hated the fact that i thought that they stayed together because they worry what their friends and relatives would say.

i just hated the fact that "for the sake of the children" is a valid reason to stay together. it sounded too cliche. too pretentious. martyr couldnt even begin to describe it.

but after seeing how she and her brothers turned out, me and my brothers turned out (only because we are the only set of siblings i know who has actually admitted this "my-dad-cheated-on-mom-but-mom-stayed") i cant thank my mother enough for staying.

to be on the losing end and enduring it was something i vehemently abhorred with a passion. whenever i voiced out this opinion as my mom and i watched tv, my mom just kept quiet. i now realize that ive said very hurtful things and she held her peace because she knew i didnt know what i was saying.

no matter how cliche "for the sake of the children" sounds, i realize that this is probably what it means.

husbands and wives with opposing opinions gravely affect the character formation of their children. its lies not only on the variable of the genes inherited, it also lies within the immediate environment that is provided to them.

i sort of understood how environment affects a child’s environment with the conversations ive had with my mother, but it is only now that i actually grasp the concept of it.

with this, i finally understand why philippine laws dont allow divorce. it really is for the sake of the children.

the one thing i hate about being the only daughter is the extra responsibility that comes with it. i really dont think this "only daughter" dilemma applies to only children because there really is no one else to rival with, to be responsible of and to be jealous of.

i was chatting with my cousin ais last night. sadly, her mom is presently battling with cancer. she was telling me that because her mom is now unable to perform the mom duties, she has taken over with half of the home management. it even has come to the point that the household help is calling her "mom."

not that we complain.

i have been called "mom" by my own mother — just because she felt that the roles were reversed. she was living in my apartment, i was washing her clothes, was cooking her meals and tying her shoelaces (not an exaggeration). i would think that she was pretty impressed with how i turned out to be.

but that’s not my point. (hah!) the point is, as we only daughters grow up, our moms have this line, in some version or another, that constantly barrages our ears.

"you are the girl in the family, you have to learn how to do this. you have to take care of your brothers. you have to set an example…"

its something i hated hearing whenever i had to be in a learning session with my mom and my brothers are left alone to their own devices. at a young age, i learned all the necessary household skills and even some parenting stuff because of my younger brother. i went to a lot of parent-teacher conferences, and even standing up as legal guardian for a visa interview.

in hindsight, i am thankful that i had to go through her constant sermons of learning all the life skills that i now possess.

i know that it is sometimes very tiring to mommy everyone else and its something that cant be passed on to a brother — who will definitely just put on this innocent+confused face and will botch up the job.

i just cant imagine my brothers mommying.

gifting oneself is a reward for a life well done.

i have finally freed myself from my entry-level tiffany (as lee calls it). although technically, my tiffany keychain is more expensive than my self birthday gift (tiffany keychain was a christmas present from jerome. according to him, it is a valet key ring — but i dont have a car!! maybe i will get a red convertible mini cooper with racing stripes for christmas?), i have graduated from key rings to a silver necklace.

i finally bought my bridget jones-y heart pendant by elsa peretti.

i love the damn thing!! i even sang the happy birthday song to myself before i opened the turquoise box with white satin bow. it makes me feel loved by me. and i love me! iiiii lllllloooooooveeeee meeeee!!!

i think the gift is a bit too expensive (125 bucks plus tax for silver! my mother will cry!) but hey, i worked hard for it.

i feel pretty, oh so pretty… pretty… preeeeetttyyy and gaaaaaay!!!

——

on my way to the flagship store, i was in the pissiest mood. hung over from last night’s excessive drinking, i hated the fact that i had to haul my ass to 5th avenue. as i walked into the elevator, i told the guy i was going to the third floor. the door closed, and the operator asked –

"you look like a smart lady, can i ask you a question?"

"are you married?"

"oh no, why is it that whenever i say second floor engagement rings, the men never say anything?"

"why?"

"because its the only floor where they will walk out with a commitment!"

that elevator operator certainly made me smile and forget about the massive hangover. this is the kind of elevator operators that will make you want to keep taking the elevator, or even have a cup of coffee with. he was nice, polite and above all, very cheerful — even if he says 2nd floor, engagement rings 36thousand times a day.

on the way down, i got into the same elevator again.

it went up to the fourth floor, two ladies came in. one of them had her back turned to the elevator door. he asked her to face the door and said,

"do you know why im asking you to face the door?"

blank face from woman

"because when we get down to the main floor, there will be papparazzis wanting to take your picture. you dont want them taking a picture of your back, do they?"

i was laughing.

as i was walking out, he said

"same time next week, okay?"

yeah. he was charming.

its official, i have crawled one year into my mid twenties. in 365 days, i would be in my late twenties. (and that would mean three more years to go.)

i have almost always had this feeling of nonexistence. i would surmise that it emanates from my middle child syndrome and it just gets magnified with the years passing through.

the voidness have been invalidated since i started working for the media. the episodes i have written and sometimes appeared at will always defy that void. my menus and restaurants, long after its been thrown away or closed down will always remain in somebody’s memory as the place where they had their first date, their 18th birthday, their christmas party…

now that ive happily left my wonderful media jobs (yes, ive had a handful of them.) my hunger for this validation eats me. i dont care really, in my world where i have this larger than life existence, i am the queen of everything. it is in this same world where everything that makes me sad, happy and in-between come alive. everything. even josephine the cat.

i was once a dirty little secret. unfortunately, i still am. it bothers me so much that it hardly gets the chinky eyes pictures out.

i got into this disastrous argument on the eve of my birthday about cooking pots and pans. its not about what the pans look like, or what the pans materially cost but its about the fact that the pans were purchased for me as a birthday gift.

its about the fact that it cant be admitted that the pans were bought for me. ME.

its a shame that something so innocent cant be admitted, and yet i brag to everyone how im so happy with those things. even to my mother and my brothers.

the pans make me happy, but ultimately, the there is a happier feeling when you tell everyone about it. it is all about sharing the joy. its nothing embarassing or shameful. the happy feeling gets better when everyone tells you that they are happy for you.

ive heard a thousand times that i always focus on the negative things. how can you not if it invalidates the very existence of you? im not 14 nor do i live in a house with a curfew. it is very odd that the pans feel like a dirty little secret. my realities are real. they are not negative. they nag better than i do. nor am i in the business of lying to myself until the lies become true.

is it too much to ask to be all too happy about me and be actually proud of it?

maybe it is.

by the starbucks definition, i am not a new yorker.

i could count with my one hand the times that i actually paid for a starbucks coffee since i got here — three. apart from the fact that im not huge on coffee, im so not into buying my cuppa for the price of lunch.

yesterday, i had this huge craving for a frappuccino. really, its been since tuesday but ive been too lazy to line up with 10 people who wants their morning cuppa, and i almost always get out of the train station at the precise time that i should be at work, which is 15 minutes away.

the 51st and lex 6 train has a starbucks as soon as you get out of the 50th and lex exit, by the terence cardinal cooke branch of the new york public library.  (that’s the one that had a 10 people deep line) i knew from my short living stint at white plains that there is a starbucks on the next block, the one on 48th and park, right in front of the waldorf astoria.

so i went there and ordered my frappuccino. i did expect a bit of a wait because there was a lot of people, and i did get my drink at the approximate amount of time.

then again, new yorkers are not a relaxed lot. i guess my barista had one too many free cuppas at work that she actually was stressing out on my frappuccino. i dont get it. its just some mixture, ice and a blender, voila.

i was in a daze, just like any other morning, that i dont actually notice the 6 block walk from the train to 48th and 5th. from the time i ordered until she handed me my fancy caffeine, i was oblivious for no apparent reason.

wrapped around my cup was a piece of paper, which was semi wet and looked a teeny bit dirty, but was good enough to use as a cold insulator (my digits cannot withstand cold in contrast to heat, go figure) and then the barista, snapped me off of my trance. she said "look at that piece of paper. im sorry ma’am."

my makeshift insulator was a coupon, for any drink i please in starbucks, with no expiry date! great! freebie without even complaining! i dont even understand that when i try to mangle a freebie due to poor service, i never get any, but now? wow.

something like that on a plain wednesday morning is good.

money makes the world go round, or so they say.

after my first business transaction, i can definitely say that this is the most amount of money ive earned in one go. im not saying this to babble about the success of it. im actually annoyed with the whole failure of it.

money. that is the primary reason why i moved here to new york. everyone complains that money doesnt exist back in the philippines and that everyone throws me buckets of faith to keep me from going back.

now that ive saved up quite a bit, why dont i feel the happiness that i expected from it. its there, but it does not feel quite right. its so odd that i actually feel a wee bit depressed about it. and bothered.

like any girl would do, i went shopping. ive finally bought that canon a400 digital camera from target. surprisingly, it didnt feel good owning it even if ive been dreaming about it since november last year. i took it out of the box, snapped a few pics and there i left it on the kitchen counter. i even havent bothered to look at it again. nor was i excited to be reunited with it after leaving it at home to go to work.

i have money in the bank and my digital camera. i dont understand why im not happy about it. im going to get my self birthday gift this weekend, and still i fear that i wont be happy with it too.

i complained about this unhappiness to my mother, and my mom said that its a regular feeling after knowing that you can afford to buy almost everything you want. its not comforting, mom, but i’ll take your word for it.

this constant unhappiness worries me because i feel that i lost the capacity to be happy with everything that surrounds me. its gloomy.

i realized that all of my unhappiness started when i moved here. pictures of me are not the same — yeah, i still get pictures taken of me with the same trademark smile, but the glee is gone. my eyes tell everything. i dont look chinky in the pictures anymore.

its depressing and alarming at the same time. ive got the goods, yet im not happy.

ive been told that i should stop focusing on the negative things and that i should be happy with what i have. i used to have nothing and i was, for the most part happy. now that i have almost everything, im not.

for the most part, im willing to trade everything just to get the happiness back. and all my pictures to be chinky eyed. and yes, im willing to throw everything away. ive learned very important lessons early in life.

what they say is true. money cant buy you happiness.

im your average equal opportunity pork eating dater.

i guess its weird to say that because i mostly hang out with filipinos and filipinos, for the 90% of the population eats pork, unless they are muslims or have turned vegetarian by choice.

it is a common childhood tantrum back home to start bawling and wailing once your mother or yaya orders you to eat the leafy greens in the nilagang baka or the sayote in the tinola. at least on my part, i didnt like veggies until my palate changed from having purefoods tender juicy hotdogs, honey cured bacon, fried eggs and fried chicken marinated in soy sauce to actually eating chop suey, or the pechay in the nilaga.

really, at least on personal experience, vegetables slowly crept into my diet.

i write this because i really really hate the reaction of all muslims and buddhists towards pork and beef. always, there is this violent nauseating disgust on their face everytime meat is mentioned. culturally, i do understand why.

and it irks me whenever they have the violent reaction.

i give thanks being raised roman catholic because apart from live human flesh before marriage, we are not prohibited from eating anything dead, crawling, flying or sprouting from the ground. its more personal choice why im not into lamb or veal (i think it has a smell) but i dont have a violent nauseated reaction whenever its offered to me. trust me, id eat almost anything except insects… and you can include all the pig and cow innards and chicken feet — id eat them too.

i think, out of spite for all the vegetarians and muslims who hate my pork eating habits, i should almost always say, when they offer me vegetables, EEEEW. VEGETABLES!!! VOMIT!!!!

one of the reasons why i love friendster is because of its surveys. here’s one.

The quality and/or trait I most admire in my closest friend is:
i dont have one closest friend, and if there’s something in them that i admire collectively is them actually enduring all of my whiny complaints while laughing.

My friends can always count on me to:
say yes to any party unless i have something else more important. even without sleep.

The best concert I ever went to was:
my friends’ gigs

I never leave home without:
my house keys. (yes i can leave the house in my pajamas barely awake.)

If I could step into the shoes of any rock star/celebrity for a day it would be:
hmmm. stefan sagmeister. (i guess he kinda qualifies as a celebrity in the graphic design community)

I’m completely obsessed with: 
MYSELF and everything about it! (hahaha)

Out of all the characters on TV I most identify with:
hmmm. none, actually. i havent watched enough tv.

If we peeked in your fridge we would find:
ice cream, a lot of eggs (we get them free for every 20 bucks we spend at the asian store) a lot of cheese, and a lot of leftovers.

my greatest achievement so far has been:
my independence, but somehow in a weird way im willing to give it up. after a while, its not all that… i guess.

My definition of failure is:
the absence of happiness and peace of mind with the success of your endeavor.

The word or phrase I most overuse is: 
"aaay taaaae."

My most treasured possession is:
my future self birthday gift — my tiffany silver necklace.

The one liner that best describes my life story so far is: 
There’s a reason for EVERYTHING.

Right now my guiltiest pleasure is:
watching tagalog movies

The one thing I’d take with me if i was on SURVIVOR is:
anti wrinkle cream with spf 20

My definition of happiness:
love, peace of mind and a comfortable live/work environment.

The smartest decision I ever made in life was to:
move to the states? everyone says it is. sometimes i think otherwise.

The three words that best describe me are:
smart, funny and annoying

The trait I admire most in my mom is:
her ability to raise three annoying children singlehandedly and instilling good values. she may think of us otherwise, but from my point of view, i think she did really well. really, really well.

my boss once asked me in jest "what has your mother been doing these past 25 years if not to get you married?"

really, i couldn’t answer his question. the reality is, my boss is indian, and they, up to the present, go for arranged marriages. to them there are two types, arranged marriage and love marriage.

(my apologies for all the marriage themes in my posting, its just that it creeps up on me BLATANTLY. roomie getting married… yadda yadda yadda…)

love marriage is something that the indians dont really go for, and that for us is the one we are used to. actually, aggie and i already hoped that we were indians just so we dont have to bother with looking for our suitable and compatible partner and just let our parents do the choosing for us. relying on the old "mother knows best" adage.

and for the indians, it is the mother that excitedly yet strictly seeks out the husband for their darling daughter or son. and once the mothers of both parties agree, the engagement is set. not knowing whether or not the guy (or the girl eeeew!) has body odor….

i also read this article from the INDIAN EXPRESS (i usually read it for the usually hilarious horoscopes that are never true) that educated indian women with a great career and a master’s diploma seeks same from indian men — REALLY I DONT UNDERSTAND WHAT THAT WRITER WAS RANTING AT, and she was so furious that these educated women wouldnt just settle for anything that isnt up to par. maybe she didnt want to marry an educated man?

now that aggie and i cant get an arranged marriage, nor will we agree to it, ive decided to ask my co worker if there are indian ladies who dont end up getting married.

in spite of arranged marriages, SOME WOMEN END UP AS OLD MAIDS!!! oh god. i guess that is more of an insult. with the dowries paid by the daughter’s parents to the son’s parents, it didnt really occur to me that being a spinster was actually possible.

oh the horrors! somehow it is comforting that im not from india. and at least if i end up not getting married, i could definitely say that i wasnt rejected at matchmaking! (so sad, really.)

i woke up this morning with 7 missed calls on my mobile. all from pauline.

being dead from all of the wonderful nyquil from my great roomie grace (who is getting married on thursday with that 1.5 carat engagement  and wedding ring set i sold) i have to say that the news that pauline brings me is the exact opposite of hers.

dennix, her flame, is getting married to someone else.

i hate the fact that dennix is getting married before pauline does, but other than that, i really dont care. first of all it is his life and second of all it is his life. but i hate the fact that pauline is moping about it.

and tries hard to convince me that he shouldnt when she doesnt offer any solid and convincing reason why he shouldnt marry the girl.

really, i dont have a moral lesson to the story. and part of me writes this in fear that this might happen to me.

ouch.