A Perfect Fit

While waiting for our weekly pre-prod meeting to begin, I had an interesting, albeit brief chat with our head writer MJ about his newfound spirituality. Although come to think of it, "newfound" may not be the best word to describe it - I think a better word would be "renewed".

He told us that this renewed and strengthened spirituality stems from a new church or fellowship he recently started attending - a group that puts emphasis on the importance of praising and worshipping God, and has a crop of interesting speakers who talk about the Word on a weekly basis. Basically, it's not very much different from the church I have been attending since the age of 11.

One of the lessons he learned is about how impossible it is to find the perfect church. Why? Because people are imperfect. Since churches, apart from the physical structure, are comprised of a fellowship of people... Well, I don't think I need to spell it out for you right?

Anyway, this got me thinking about my own quest for the perfect fit - not only when it comes to church or fellowship, but in a more general sense. People, let's admit it, we like to belong. As much as we want to be non-conformists with a "f*ck the world" kind of attitude, we still cry if we get rejected by a guy/girl we like, we still get upset if we lose our jobs and we still want to feel loved, comforted and cuddled by our moms and dads.

It would be an ideal world indeed where you could find your niche or your soulmate and feel absolutely content. I know I haven't found mine yet, but really, who has? Yes you may be happy with your job and love what you do, but to say it is perfect means there is no more room for improvement. After all, why would you need to improve? You're already perfect!

The same goes with relationships. Ask any of the "perfect couples" you know and they'll all tell you this: relationships, of any kind, all need work. Contrary to many love songs, poems and movies, we are not the halves of a special someone we need to find. God made us in His image and likeness and I really don't think I need to tell you that He is NOT a half of anyone or anything.

So what of this quest for the perfect fit? Should we just raise the white flag? I say, no. Why? I'll tell you.

Because in this imperfect world filled with imperfect people and imperfect situations, a quest to find this so-called "perfect fit" will eventually lead us to the ONE and ONLY perfect being in existence.

So keep seeking. I know I will.

A "King" of a Man

On a recent out of town trip, I found myself deep in conversation with a friend. The topic on the table was family and so I proceeded to discuss my own; starting off with my Pop, Mom, until the topic of grandparents was brought up. As I began to tell her about my Nonno, I realized something.

I have known my Nonno all my life, I have heard the stories about him from my Mom and Titas and though he may be an ordinary part of my life, it dawned on me that he is no ordinary man.

Growing up, I always knew he was a great Nonno; warm, caring, funny and sweet while his life outside of his "Nonno duties" was always something separate, something I only knew of. Now, I am increasingly amazed at all he has accomplished and achieved in his life - apart from a beautiful family of 13 children, 30+ grandchildren and 5 great grandkids; he has created a name to be proud of and associated with.

The Google result: Integrity.

Curious to know more about his reputation in the outside world, I googled his name. Most of the search results that came up were in association to CCBP but there was one other link that caught my attention. It was a previously published article, which I think, was in relation to Father's Day many years ago. In it were quotations from several notable people talking about the most valuable lessons they have learned from their fathers. I caught my tito David's name and the quote he contributed to the article was this: "Integrity, integrity and integrity."

My Nonno is a man of many things and integrity is certainly one of them. His rise to the top of the corporate ladder can be contributed to this and of course, the fact that he is a very intelligent man. My mom has told me a number of times how honest, loyal and hard working my Nonno was all throughout his career and still is, even now in his retirement. Throughout the course of his life, not once did he compromise his name and his family's reputation for wealth and power.

Integrity is defined as: "adherence to moral and ethical principles; soundness of moral character; honesty". To think of my Nonno as a man who imbibes all these characteristics seems unrealistic to you, I know. But meet him, talk to him and you'll see that if there's anyone who personifies integrity he would be the one.

Movie star looks.

Another thing you might find to be interesting about my Nonno is the fact that he is a very handsome man. As I was looking at photos of him in his 20's I thought to myself, “why didn’t Nonno become a matinee idol?” Haha.

My mom once told me that one of the reasons why my Nonna (who is also strikingly beautiful by the way) married him is because she knew he could give her "cute kids". I don't know if this is true, but it made me laugh anyway.

Here is proof of what a good looking man he is:

dashing in the day

Guapo, right?

A "People's President".

My Nonno's career in Coca-Cola began as a Sales Manager (or Representative), which meant, he was the guy who sat up front with the truck driver making deliveries. Not a very glamorous job, but one he did quite well until the day "Corporate Desk Job" came knocking. I don't know the exact details of his career though it is one story I would love to find out, but I have heard that he is one of the most beloved Presidents, aside from being the first and last Filipino President for CCBP.

So beloved in fact, that when he retired CCBP sold him his company car for a whopping total of…. P1.00. If that’s not love then I don’t know what is.

The Ultimate Golf Nut.

I think my Nonno’s list of priorities go like this: 1. God, 2. Family, 3. Career and 4. Golf. Yes, my Nonno is an avid golf nut. I remember when I was younger he would always make time on the weekends for his golf. We even had a few of our family Christmas lunches at Manila Golf! He is one of the few people I know who loves watching golf tournaments on TV and as a former promo producer for a sports channel, I can honestly say that golf tournaments were the most boring plugs I ever had to make. But for some reason unknown to me, he absolutely loves it.

To me, that says something about his character. Golf is about precision and a whole lot of patience. Imbibing these characteristics can make a person wise, strong and unwavering. I do not think he learned to become such a man because of golf, but rather, that his passion for golf reflected the kind of man that he was… a wise, strong man with an unwavering constitution.

The Librarian.

I remember when I was in high school during summer break, my Nonno called me up and offered me a summer job: to organize his library. He paid me P500 to go to his house and arrange his books according to these genres: fiction and non-fiction and the books in each genre were to be arranged alphabetically by author’s name. Now you would think it to be a tedious odd job but on the contrary, I enjoyed browsing through his collection of spy fiction and war stories. Oh how he loves reading about history and the life stories of important men who have made an impression on the world! That summer, I learned that my Nonno was not only wise, but intellectual as well.

I think this is why he still keeps his mind so sharp, even now that he just turned 87. As an inheritor of the “reader gene” I can only hope to still be as sharp and quick-witted as he is when I reach that age. To me, he is as important and impressionable as those men he loves to read about.

So, who is he?

To sum it all up, he is this: wisdom, intellect, integrity and heart rolled into a handsome 5'2 package. He is extraordinary, a "King" of a man and more importantly, my Nonno.

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

(a repost from my almost extinct Multiply site)

I've made a haunting decision: I have chosen to be ugly. For Halloween, anyway.

Usually, I either ditch the costume ritual altogether or make Halloween an excuse to put piles of makeup on. We all know that most girls use Halloween as excuse to look hot (ahem, Mean Girls) but this year, I chose to look, well, not. My costume choice is the girl best known for being, to put it politely, physically flawed. This year, I will be Ugly Betty.

You may be wondering, why on earth would a single girl decide to look incredibly unattractive on a night when all the other girls will look incredibly attractive? Is it because of the need to seem extremely original and to blatantly express my individuality? Partially, yes. There are a number of different reasons why but the main reason is this: frankly, I just don't care.

I've always had difficulty competing with other girls for a guy's attention. Since majority of the male species' actions are based on their libido vs. their better judgment, it's not always easy to "get the guy". Watching too many movies sometimes gives me an optimistic picture of what the world is like, when in actuality, looks do matter. They matter to an extent that is more than anyone would like to admit. We live under the pretense that we care more about the inside then the out but everyone knows that the packaging is what convinces us to buy the product. It's ironic, but deep down inside, we're all superficial.

I'm not ugly. Neither is Betty. Granted, she's not exactly the epitome of beauty, but I find in her an admirable quality that makes her at the very least, likable. The problem is that she has physical flaws. So do I. So do a lot of other men and women. But in the world we live in, we have to be as close to the generally accepted standard of what is attractive - for example; light skin, long hair, tall nose, chiseled abs - to be considered so. Being as attractive as possible gives us a better chance to get exactly what we want; whether its the guy, the job, or any kind of special privileges. We've heard these stories many times, whether they be fact or fiction: Erika getting promoted because her boss had the hots for her; or Mark getting a paid vacation for flirting with the boss. It may be true, it may not. But it is definitely possible. We've all experienced or at least witnessed how prettier people can get more than the average person. Call it unfair, or just call it what it is: life.

To be honest, I'm not one of those people who protest this particular injustice. I'm not bothered if some people get more than others because of their wealth, connections or beauty. Don't get me wrong, I am all for equality. But as I said earlier, that's life and as much as we want to protest for change, the system will not budge unless people actually change. Besides, if you protest against prettier people getting more than what you have, then that could mean nothing else except: you're ugly. But I'm not saying I don't mind the injustice because I think I'm pretty. Again, my reason is that I just don't care.

The main problem of being ugly is the discrimination involved. If physical appearances did not affect our chances for certain experiences and/or opportunities, then being physically flawed should not matter. Ugly people will just be ugly for a fact, pretty people likewise, and that's all there will be to it. No bias, no discrimination and no one would have any reason to complain. But the tricky part is, it's in our nature to discriminate. It can't be helped. Some people may have the willpower to refrain from voicing out derogatory remarks, but it doesn't mean that their thoughts are not guilty of it. You just have to know when to keep your mouth shut.

Getting dolled up at times makes us feel good, doesn't it? It's amazing how one person's compliment can make (or break) another person's day. But looking good should not be the extent of a person's existence. After all, it's been said that time can fade away even the most exceptional of beauties.

It's funny that in the end we all turn out to be "ugly" anyway.

Junky

(a repost from my almost extinct Multiply site)

I need caffeine to function. It is my stimulant, my alarm, my wake up call to the day ahead. I depend on coffee because without it, my day never seems to begin. How unfortunate for me, a caffeine junky, to be hooked on its heavenly aroma and bittersweet taste, when a good cup of coffee can sometimes cost more than a meal.

I like good coffee. No, I love good coffee. The instant kind is okay, but it isn't as enticing as the real thing. It's like craving for sinigang and having nilaga in its absence. It's yummy, but not what you wanted.

Many times I've tried to kick the habit, but all to no avail. To me, its like cigarettes. I NEED it. I just HAVE to have it. Both (coffee and cigarettes) are addictive and I, being the sucker that I am, am addicted to both.

I feel compelled to make a change in my coffee-guzzling habit but it's hopeless. The coffee establishments will not lower their prices and I surely don't have the strength to resist. I am utterly and completely powerless.

I, regretfully, resign to remain... a Caffeine Junky.

What Happens When Friends Flee

(a repost from my almost extinct Multiply site)

The term "BFF" is so... lame. However, it is a term I find perfectly applicable to call a friend of mine who has just fled to another country. If I've noticed anything over the years, it's this: those who have to leave are always those I'm closest to. It's inevitable that I should wonder, am I some kind of undercover-top-secret kind of friend repellent? Or is it just sheer coincidence?

Again, this friend of mine was not just any friend. She was my best(est) friend - my BFF, in "lame man's" terms. She was my number one confidant. She knew things about me that no one else knew, or had any inkling of. She read my thoughts and emotions so well, even when I try my best to conceal them. She knew me best out of anyone in this world - possibly even more than my own mother! And of course, by "sheer coincidence", she had to go too.

I went through the exact same thing when my other "BFF" (I have only 2) decided to flee this country for greener pastures years ago. I still miss her to this very day. But I can't say I blame them for leaving. I know that right now, my country doesn't seem to have many options when it comes to making a comfortable life and building a promising future. I should know, considering my bank account. Pardon my bitterness for saying this, but I will say it: today, I hate America.

My Pop and I were talking yesterday and he mentioned that when he was younger, a few good friends of his also fled because of the whole "greener pastures" situation. We never really got to finish the conversation, because I was only dropping him off at the hospital and I couldn't just double park on a busy street. But it helped me to think that a good kind, or in our case, the best kind of friendship doesn't dissolve into thin air. My Pop still keeps in touch with his friends and when he gets a chance to, visits from time to time. I know that this too, will be the case with me. And it makes me feel the littlest bit better.

Sometimes I think that I should get out of here too because to be honest, it kind of sucks here. But then I snap out of it because I realize it's the bitterness talking, not me. Perhaps someday I will, but the reason for it definitely won't be because I feel so left behind.

Here's a resolution: I want to stop looking behind and start looking forward. I am who I am, with friends or without. Maybe it's better for me to have less people in my life, so that I can make better decisions without other people's opinions clouding my judgement. I've experienced having a battalion of friends, without really knowing anyone in it and I much prefer the quiet little platoon I'm in now.

When friends flee, especially the best(est) of friends, they leave behind a conflict of emotions. You feel happy for them and sad for yourself. I hate to admit it, but I am guilty of secretly wishing her trip would become nothing more than a long vacation. Self-pity is so damaging, it can eat you up whole and spit out the bones.

Nonetheless, I sincerely feel happy for her. If you love someone, you want what's best for them, and I do. Really. Despite my whining, I do.

A Hard Days Night

You know you've been working too hard when:

1. Your uncle is in prison and you're one of the last people to know about it.

2. Your good friend who now works abroad came home to visit, and left without you even getting to see her. Not even once.

3. Everytime you log on to facebook, there's a new episode of Family Feud waiting for you.

4. You don't see your mom for 3 days.

5. You had to reschedule your dentist appointment more than 3 times.

6. You only get to reply to non-work related text messages the day after you receive them.

7. You start to miss your friends.

8. You drink coffee more than 3x a day just to make it through.

9. The only time you have to reminisce and grieve your brother's passing is when you're in the shower.

10. Your blog entries have become short, trite and in list form.

Dear Jaco

This is addressed to my older baby brother Jaco, who passed away on August 27, 2010 of myocardial infarction - or to put it simply, heart failure.

Dear Jaco,

From the day you were born, you were special. You were diagnosed with a rare combination of severe retardation and severe autism. You weren't supposed to walk or communicate in any way. You were supposed to be an infant forever. So when pop and mom took you to the doctor at age 4, right when you started to learn how to walk, the doctor had tears in her eyes. You always defied all the odds. Right up to the last moments of your life.

Growing up with you was something else. I always loved seeing your little bed space under the stairs, tickling you to make you laugh, singing your favorite nursery rhymes to you and hearing you try to sing it for yourself. You could never get the lyrics, but you were always impeccably in tune. I can still hear your voice as you sing "eeyay eeyay yo" at the top of your lungs with the biggest smile on your face. Oh, that smile. That smile could light up a million rooms and start a raging fire in the heart of its recipient.

When you and I were kids together, mom told me that I was in charge of you. I was supposed to take care of you. I envisioned my future with you in it. I always had. I always felt so special because pop and mom entrusted you, their most beloved baby, to me. That was why I always used to spend time with you, sitting on your bed and singing to you - I wanted you to know me and love me, so that if anything were to happen to pop and mom you wouldn't cry when it was my turn to take care of you.

I remember the nights you snuck into my bed, twirling my hair and waking me up. I used to hate it, but now, it's one of the things I'll miss most. I'm sorry I outgrew you. It must have been hard watching us grow up and have our own lives outside of the house - outside of our life with you. We had all the experiences and opportunities you never could have had.

The last few years were different though. When we grew up, you changed. You stopped going to school, you hated leaving the house, you became obsessive and your mood swings more extreme. How I wish you had the ability to tell us what was bothering you, what hurt and how you felt. But as our life with you had always been, it was simply a mystery. You may have changed, but our love for you did not. All the locked bathroom and refrigerator doors, all the hidden bread, all the nights of interrupted sleep was all worth it to have someone like you in my life.

Life was so colorful with you in it. You are the unknowing and unwilling center of our family, Jac. The day you died pop and mom said they felt a hole in their hearts. I feel it too. It hurts to know you're gone, but I would rather know you are in heaven than watch you suffer again like you did in the hospital that night. Did you know that you suffered about 5 cardiac arrests that night? You were so strong, but we were not. When you had that big one, the one before the last, I was holding your hand. I could feel you slipping away. I could see your fingers turn blue and feel the warmth leaving your hand. Do you remember what I told you then? I told you that I knew you were tired and that it was okay with me if you wanted to rest. It broke my heart to say those words, but I love you so much that I would rather feel the pain of losing you than for you to be in any more of it.

Now that you're gone, there is an empty silence. You were the king of the house and your presence was what made it, for me, home.

From the day you were born you were special, because inside your imperfect shell lay the purest and most beautiful soul I could ever hope to know. I am so blessed to have had you in my life. I will never forget you. I will never stop loving you.

Love forever and ever,

Anj