We’re all going to get tanned anyway

I am really planning on buying facial powder. I noticed that my forehead shines so much this past few days. I could not blame virgin oil for that because I put that on my hair, so.

Anyway, I had this funny conversation with Mary Ann this morning, it goes like this:

Me: Meann, do you have powder? Can I have some? My forehead is so freaking shiny.

Meann: So, uhm, shine on!

 

Yes, darling baby, shine on.

 

It’s Operations Outing today. Mixed emotions is not healthy in the morning. Or anytime of the day,  I guess. I’m just hopeful that this’ll not suck so much. I am also afraid of what the booze time would bring, I really wish I could hold myself up. Also, I dread VP’s invitations on kayak or rowing etc., the awkwardness would kill me. And don’t even get me started with this being some sort of going-away party for the ones who’ll resign, its breaking my “corporate aspirations”.  I am also not looking forward to being judged and receiving side glances from what I’m wearing. These people are so…capricious. Sometimes, I want to ask them face to face “why are you so fucking judgmental?! Have you all gone tired of being kiss-asses?” Summer Lesson: I would love the sun and the beach if only I’m with the people I really would like to be with.

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So I just learned that one of the pillars of my corporate life will be resigning soon.

I’m afraid I’ll soon face the colossal fear that had been successfully tamed in due to his brilliant managerial skills.

This is currently crippling me. I might cry a little, later.

A Cycle

People who are staying on a crappy relationship and would continually seek people to talk about their demise over and over and over again seemed like a self-asserting mechanism to me. I think they believe that its important for them to impart their heartaches over the same situation for a couple of times– which I also honestly agree actually. I’m just not sure of what to answer to a person who have told me the same story for the nth time.

Sometimes, I see these cases as an unceasing act of finding the most comprehensive explanation of “what has really happened” to them rather than taking concrete actions.

Maternal Ties Are Just Biology

Sometimes, it is really possible to hate your Mom more even though she had already thrown stuff at you or secretly wish that you “stayed the same”.

Sometimes, family bruises can be so frequent that shouting at each other seemed…casual. And even so, you still could not hear the other person.

Sometimes “family” is just biology.

Kibit Balikat

I’ve given too much pauses on that reply.

We’re both carefully picking up the correct words from our vocabularies. We both tried to be neutral and casual.

But you really can’t hide feelings, can you?

As I give him my answers, I immediately felt the reverberating waves of judgement and worry of a parent’s instinct, though small.  I sat silently on the passenger seat beside him on a chilly 4:45am, listening to ballad OPM songs and to his deep sighs. “Anak, bakit di pa siya pumupunta sa bahay?” Pa, he’s not visiting yet, I replied; he wanted to be someone before he gets formal, a registered engineer perhaps. Let him take and pass the board exam muna! He shuffled to his seat with quiet gestures. Why, he said, should it be from our village. It’s not appropriate. Which could automatically translated to “you could’ve pick better” or “I’ve expected great things from you” or “this decision is just bullshit. You’re beginning to disappoint me, Ate”.

Let’s see.

Supposed 500

It definitely was their ceiling, she thought. The familiar ochre and rusty smell of it filled her nostrils. She blinked thrice. For some reason, she urgently begged her brain to ask logical questions but prayed for it to stay blank for a few more minutes at the same time. She can hear the frying pan in the kitchen next door, quickly eating the olive oil and fried rice. She drew a quick glance to the room: it was the master bedroom. The shelves contained her mother’s lotions and sanitizers from her kindergarten pupils as well as her father’s belts from Dubai and Baguio. She was lying on her parent’s bed like a 5 pointed star. She felt the pillow underneath her head, comfortably easing the arch of her nape. She felt the silky sheets, it was the one they used on her sister’s birthday.  She’s sensing that there’s something big that is happening or about to happen and it’s absolutely under their ceiling, in her parent’s bedroom, on their bed and would only be seen by her. Before she could finally processed what is on, her mind deduced an irrevocable concept; the one that she thought everybody in the world had normally experienced: she was alive and she’s aware of it.

Of course, it was fundamental. You are alive and you must be, in all aspects, be known to it. The glorious responsibility of breathing, interacting, reproducing, understanding…all of which is what makes you alive and conscious. She thought, in that Super Boink shirt and submarine pajamas, that she is she. The now is her now: the bed, the pillows, the room, the door, the creased forehead, the palpitating heart. She was so overwhelmed of this weirdly coherent enlightenment that she almost cried “That’s right Cosmos, I’m right here. I can totally hear and understand you now.” Just like that, she just knew, mimicking a Eureka moment, that she’s now a living part of the world. She stood up quite quickly. All at once, the information started gushing in her like a tsunami of memories, laughs, voices, mementos, names, dates…

Hi, I am Aice and I just woke up.

The mental quiz bee started whacking her head. It now occurred to her that she’s the eldest of three; that she likes neutral colors but deigned to neon nail paint. She’s very adept with paragraphs, storytelling, and spelling. She was also suddenly aware of the horror mathematics could bring. She was happy and fat. She was 8 years old and likes Renz Verano on Sundays. Concentrated grape juice was her favourite and she enjoys flying kite with her sisters. That she’s tan and she’s insecure about it – more insecure than being fat. She has an acute crush with one of her childhood friends that has been going on since they’re five. And as though, the cadence of information settled inside her, she began telling herself: it’s important to me to tell my story/ies because I’ll never know who might be listening.