falling in mid-flight

this is your life
are you who you want to be?
is it everything you dreamed that it would be
when the world was younger and you had everything to lose?
-this is your life, switchfoot

If everything went according to plan, today I would be somewhere else.

I would be on a flight to Cincinnati, maybe even Toronto.

Or perhaps, at a different desk, at a different company, in a different industry.

But plans have a way of falling in mid-flight. Instead, I am here today, clueless about what the future holds for me. There are a million what-ifs running through my mind, and in some alternate universe I can see a version of me I had met once in my childhood dreams.

My entire life, I've always had everything planned carefully -- from my future plans to the most minute details of my next day. Lately, though, I have found myself wondering why I am where I am today. It feels like at some point in time, everything started spinning in the opposite direction.

Time is such a powerful tool. You never feel it, but it's always there, spinning its web, molding you into someone else. It's the force that brings people together; it's the same force that tears people apart, no matter how hard you fight against it. Fate. Destiny. That's what some people call it. I never believed in destiny, or predetermination. Yet I find myself asking why things have gone they way they have. Why do certain things happen at what seem to be the most inopportune times? Why do people enter and leave my life at the exact moment they do? Why does it have to feel like I'm being torn apart, then patched up with the greatest care, only to be shattered into a million pieces once more?

I wish I knew, but I'm just a pawn in this grand design.

Time has other plans for me.

* postcard lifted from PostSecret

the soc sci trio

What do a Computer Science, Home Economics and Philosophy major have in common? Absolutely nothing!!! Hahaha. That's why I absolutely love these girls! We're in such different worlds that there's never a dull moment. Next time dapat sa P45 na tayo, Cris! ;)

the salad capital

A bored and hungry officemate and I were craving to eat somewhere new today. I wasn't particularly hungry, and Ryann didn't know what he wanted to eat (except for the fact that gusto niya, madami!), so somehow we ended up at Cravings in Shangri-La. (I think it was the eat-all-you-can sign at the entrance that did us in. Hehe.)

Sulit! If you order any main course (averages around PhP200), you get to eat from their soup & salad buffet: a choice of two soups; rolls with a selection of spreads (several kinds of pate, fruit jam, & butter); macaroni salad, potato salad, and the regular make-your-own-leafy-green-salad, with a selection of dressings ranging from the classic Caesar and Thousand Island to Strawberry Vinnaigrette; plus a few pastas and herbed potatoes.

All for the price of a single main dish! Ayos! *claps in glee*

where the streets have no name

Because it's the new year, and with the new year should come new experiences, I commuted to Carriedo and Intramuros today. I used the public transportation system (if it can be called a system) for the first time in ages. And by public transport, I do not mean taxis and FXs -- I'm referring to the good old, sweaty siksikan of the LRT1 and jeepneys. And in Manila, to boot!

*clap clap*

I'm so proud of myself. It's amazing what two years of a Makati yuppie lifestyle can do to you. I feel like I've somehow reverted back to that convent-bred brat who didn't know anything masa and made tusok-tusok the fishball.

Yes, I can travel halfway around the world alone and brave the subways of New York at night, but I am seriously terrified of the old Manila area. Maybe it's a combination of me being directionally-challenged + my acute aversion to hot, sweaty crowds + me just being my praning self. Feeling ko, either mawawala, ma-sna-snatchan or ma-ho-hold up ako. But you know what? I actually experienced just the opposite.

I realized that there was actually some order to all that chaos.

I met a man with no hands playing a tune on a plastic harmonica, who chose not to beg for alms but to work for it.

I met a vendor on the street, who took time out from hawking her wares to teach me how to get to Intramuros from Carriedo.

I met a jeepney driver who gave me a kind smile as he told me, "Miss, diyan na po ang babaan sa Immigrations."

I met a government officer who actually served with a twinkle in his eyes, and entertained all my questions no matter how stupid or how many I asked.

I met a man carrying a palanggana along the edge of the Pasig River, and a woman with her two children sleeping on a pedicab, who pointed me in the direction of the MacArthur Bridge.

Okay, so they gave me the wrong directions, causing me to end up under the bridge instead of on the bridge. But then I met a guard who helped me clamber up the railings of the bridge (yes, it was the ultimate, wa-poise moment) so that I could reach Sta. Cruz.

And just when I thought I couldn't catch an LRT ride home because it was too full, an old lady pulled me into the train so I didn't have to wait for the next one.

It's the people like these who make me feel that somehow, there is hope for our country. And maybe, just maybe, it's worth it to stay in the country and wait for the day when things will get better.

Manila, my Manila. Either you love it or hate it.

happy new year!

The holidays are over and it's back to our ordinary lives again.

I hope you don't miss the magic this time.

Have a great 2006, I know this year's going to be a blast!

why criminals abound in the philippines

I always thought I was impervious to the inefficiencies of government offices. After all, I came from UP -- I've had 4 years experience waiting in insufferably long lines that I've managed to become numb to it all. Until I tried to get an NBI clearance. I'm so agitated I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack. I need to cuss. Maybe even throw things. Or ram a table down an NBI employee's throat.

December 22. 10am. I went to the NBI satellite office in Pasig, which was supposedly "equipped with a computer and could release clearances within 30 minutes." I paid, filled up the application form, smiled for the camera, and got fingerprinted... then the nightmare started.

The moment I queued at the releasing area, the girl at the counter looks at me and says, "Miss, diba kaka-picture lang sa iyo? Mamaya pa yan. Bumalik ka na lang ng 1pm."

What?!? It took less than a minute to type my name into the database and check if I had a 'hit' or not. But I'm nice and polite, so fine. I sit on a bench and wait, until I realize that the girl behind me in line was already able to claim her clearance.

So I go back to the girl at the counter. "Miss, bakit sha, nakuha na? E nauna pa to inapply?"

She takes a look at my receipt. "Santiago pala last name mo e. Bumalik ka na lang after three working days." Great. Three working days na ngayon, just because of my last name.

"E ano ngayon kung Santiago? Bakit, alphabetical ba pag-process niyan?"

"Common name kasi ang Santiago e." What the hell?!? After bugging her more, she finally checks the database (which, as I said, took less than a minute).

Unfortunately, I did have a hit. I figured it was because of my DOST scholarship, so I showed her a letter from DOST stating that I was allowed to obtain a clearance. She doesn't even glance at it. "Hindi pwede. Record check talaga to. Bumalik ka na lang after three working days."

Fine. Fine.

Dec 29. 10am. Today, no one is at the releasing counter, so I go inside the office to find an NBI employee. When someone finally attends to me, lo and behold: "Miss, quality control po. Kailangan niyo pumuntang main office sa Carriedo, iinterviewhin kayo dun."

"E wala naman po akong kaso a. Dahil lang sa DOST scholarship yan, may letter naman ako from DOST dito na pwede akong kumuha ng clearance."

"Wala pong nakalagay sa computer namin kung ano ung kaso e. Basta nakalagay lang, may hit. Sa Carriedo na po aayusin yan. Wala kaming authority dito sa Pasig mag-clear ng pangalan."

What?!? They ask me to wait for three days for record checking, only to tell me that they don't know what my case is?!? So what what the hell was the three-day record check for?

But again, they refuse to budge, so I have no choice but to go to Carriedo.

Dec 29. 2pm. After getting lost and stuck in heavy traffic, I finally arrive in Carriedo. My friend was right when he told me, "Mamamatay ka dun." The place was sensory overload -- stalls selling all sorts of things cramped the street, shouts of vendors, paputoks, and jeepneys filled the air, and both sweet and putrid aromas assailed your nostrils. All these were topped by the maddening crowd pushing you in every direction. I remember thinking, Oh my golly gosh. I think I really am going to die here.

The NBI Clearance Center was big enough to accomodate a large number of people, but was extremely understaffed. Only two of the ten or so counters at each processing step was open. We go up and down and up and down and up and down the office looking for the people who needed to work on my clearance. Almost every step of the way, I get told "Ay, bakit ganito to? Bumalik ka ulit dun, kailangan mo pa ng <insert name of requirement here>." Yes, today, I was the lucky person who would become NBI's ping-pong ball.

After more ping-pong trips, we end up at the Quality Control section where they conduct interviews for people with so-called "cases." Fortunately, my tito knew an interviewer who assisted us. They found my record (which clearly stated that the only "criminal" record I had was my DOST requirement to serve in the country). He took one look at the letter DOST provided, and approved my clearance for release.

At looooong last! I finally had an NBI clearance. So off I went to the LRT... then to the MRT... then to my office in Ortigas so that I could finally fax all my requirements to the immigration consultants for my business trip. That was when I realized something.

For a moment, my blood was boiling so hard my eyes couldn't focus. NBI's encoder had made not one, not two, not three... but four typos out of the five fields she had to type on my clearance. She not only mispelled my name, she also wrote an incorrect address and place of birth... and to top all the stupidity off: she writes February instead of May as my date of birth.

Freaking shit.

I never thought it was possible for a government agency to be more inefficient than they already are. How infuriatingly stupid can they get? Ang layo naman ng February sa May?!?!? Their section is called Quality Control, for god's sake. Dammit. Now I have to go back to Carriedo to have this fixed. I'm so pissed I'm close to murdering someone.

Our country is going to hell.

ready when you are

The truth is, it made me cry.

It's not that I'm not happy for you. The news is wonderful -- someone deciding on something like that is always a good thing. Except with it came the knowledge that you were growing up. And that meant I was, too.

That scares me, because we're not in the same stage in life right now. Here you are all grown up and taking on the responsibilities of the real world... and I...

I am not ready.

I hope you are.

what does your handwriting say about you?

Mine says:

• You plan ahead, and are interested in beauty, design, outward appearance, and symmetry.
• You are a shy, idealistic person who does not find it easy to have relationships, especially intimate ones.
• You are diplomatic, objective, and live in the present.
• You are a talkative person, maybe even a busybody!
• You enjoy life in your own way and do not depend on the opinions of others.

Coolness.

count your blessings, not your gifts

Three in the morning.

Somewhere down the street, a neighbor is playing Christmas songs. On an ordinary day, someone playing music at such an ungodly hour would strike me as incredibly inconsiderate. Tonight, though, I find myself listening to the strums of The First Noel as they float lazily in the air. The voices are angelic, almost ethereal in its quality. I do not know my neighbors, but something in the way we are both listening to the music while the whole world sleeps feels like we're bound by some invisible thread.

I suppose that is the magic of Christmas, isn't it?

It's a time when we all take a break from our busy lives to appreciate the people around us. Sure, it's supposed to celebrate Christ's birth, but sometimes I think maybe God really planned Christmas so we'd have a reason to celebrate life itself. For a moment, each person you encounter is no longer a face in the crowd, but someone to reach out to.

It's time to slow down, look, and really see.

of holidays and wishlists

The other day, someone asked me what was on my wishlist.

Strangely, nothing came to mind. Sure, I could use a new electric fan for the office, or maybe a map of Metro Manila with all those one-way streets and flyovers listed for the directionally-challenged me -- but nothing I couldn't live without.

That night, as I lay in bed racking my mind for a wishlist, I couldn't help but smile as a feeling of immense satisfaction came over me. Nothing feels better than realizing how very, very lucky you are.

And my only wish is that other people would be as lucky as I am this Christmas season, and the rest of their lives.

****

Okay, so I haven't exactly made the lives of those people asking me about my wishlist any easier.

As much as I would like to say that I've become one of those people who have sworn off material things for the rest of their existence, there really is nothing more thrilling than finding the perfect gift for someone and the presanticipation* of unwrapping a present that someone really thought of. After all, what's Christmas without the flurry of giving and receiving?

So, without further ado, here is my attempt at a wishlist, from the absurd managinip-ka-na-lang,-iha ones, to the cheap thrills of life:

♥ an electric fan for the office

♥ a trip to Paris (gorgeous Frenchman optional)

♥ a plastic bin for my trolley, so that the blasted 14th floor rat/s will stop eating my food

♥ a E-Z Map of Metro Manila (the one with all the one-way streets and flyovers listed) for the directionally-challenged me

♥ a pint of BTIC's Kahlua Brownie & Haagen Dazs' Strawberry Pecan ice cream

♥ Good Housekeeping's third cookbook (sold at stands carrying Summit Media magazines), because I want to be a domestic goddess.

♥ a cure for eyebags and insomnia

♥ the Starbucks holiday set containing peppermint chocolate/mocha mix, because I will miss peppermint mochas when the holidays are over.

♥ flannel pjs, because it's so much fun to snuggle when it's cold

♥ Ghirardeli Mint Chocolate bars

♥ ice skating sessions at Megamall + people to go skating with (malapit na sa office e!)

♥ Oracle DBA lessons. harharhar. I wish there was some kind of mind osmosis where you would wake up one day and know database administration already.

Oh, and I wish Canon would fix my camera already. It sucks not having a camera during the holiday season.

Happy Holidays, folks!

*Presanticipation [n.] 1. the feeling of excitement you still get when opening a present, even if you know what the gift already is inside.

december rain

i've been watching your world from afar

i've been trying to be where you are

and i've been secretly falling apart

unseen

The place is empty.

We sit out on the patio, surrounded by the clatter of tables being cleared and the obnoxious honking of buses from the highway nearby. You stare at the flurry of activity on the street, watching mutely as the rain turned the world gray.

"It's raining," you say. "In December."

I nod, as if I understand what you mean.

Your eyes follow the slow crawl of the cars in traffic, then the people crossing the street, umbrellas upturned toward the rain. You are still watching when you ask, "Have you ever gotten that feeling, where you could just put a gun to your head and shoot yourself, and it wouldn't matter?"

You turn to me now, and flash me a pained smile. "Last night, I had that feeling. And in one terrifying moment, I realized I could do it. I could end my life now. I'm worthless. Nothing seems to matter anymore. Everything is disposable.

"I'm scared, because I always thought it would take one extremely depressed, psychotic person to think this way. I'm supposed to be normal. I work, I laugh, I function as any normal person would. How could I possibly think like this?"

You stare at me now, searching my eyes for an answer.

I look away.

sometimes, the last thing you want comes in first

sometimes, the first thing you want never comes

and I know that waiting is all you can do

sometimes

- Strange and Beautiful, Aqualung

a strange place

goodbye, makati: the last sunset at manila bay

Foreign.

That is how this place feels now, devoid of all the familiar faces that once walked this floor. The business is growing, and along with this came the need to relocate. Everyone has moved to the new office in Ortigas, with a few of us left behind for meetings with customers.

The office is quiet, empty except for a few people tapping away at their workstations. I try to work as I normally would, but something feels off. A heavy feeling descends upon me, and suddenly I am awash with sadness.

Things will never be the same again.

Goodbye to Makati, a city brimming with possibilities and a life of its own. Goodbye to fifteen minute travel times and the extra hours of sleep before starting my workday. Goodbye to glorious sunsets and views of the Manila Bay, which always reminded me that there was a whole world out there. Goodbye to random shopping trips and late night conversations at Greenbelt, where bonds were formed and countless secrets were spilled.

Perhaps I am being overly dramatic here. This isn't goodbye -- I just need to move offices and the same people I've grown to love will still be there. Yet I still feel like I'm saying goodbye and leaving some things behind.

What scares me is that maybe the things I will miss the most are the things I may never have again, in Makati or anywhere.

Things will forever be different.

red coffee cups and full moons

Tonight, the full moon shines on me as I sit in our veranda, enjoying the cool November breeze.  The street is still, except for a few tree branches swaying in the wind.   Everyone else is asleep, long gone to the land of dreams.

I sip on my peppermint mocha, taking in the contrast of mint against the fuzziness of chocolate and coffee.  I shiver slightly in the cold wind, but as the hot liquid goes down a comforting warmth spreads across my body.

There is something about red coffee cups and full moons that fill me with hope.  It's something incomprehensible, even to me.  Perhaps it's the memories each one evokes; of happier days and of better times.  Perhaps it's the lull of doing something as fundamentally mundane as watching the night sky.

Tonight, it dawns on me that Christmas is here again.  For the longest time, I despised Christmas because the holidays only served to remind me of that gaping hole I had inside.  But I was wrong, because, above all things, Christmas was a season of hope.  Amidst all the holiday rush and madness, there is the promise of something better -- a promise to share a part of yourself with the world, and a promise of wonderful moments to come.

And tonight my spirits tingle with the hope that there is something better for me out there, if I only know where to look.

Sometimes you can find happiness in a coffee cup and a full moon.

off the BEEten track

On the way home from Tagaytay, there is small dirt road that branches off from the Aguinaldo Highway and leads to the Ilog Maria Honeybee Farm.  I had heard of the bee farm countless times, so I decided to see for myself what the fuss was all about.

It was almost closing time when I got there, so I went straight to the store to check out their wares.  (The best part of any trip, after all, is what you get to take home!)  The store sold an array of items: from food products such as honey and coffee grounds; to a variety of personal care items such as handmade soaps, lotions, and lip balms; and even decorative items like beeswax candles.  I decided to try a bottle of honey (PhP200 for 500ml) and a few of the handmade soaps (ranges from PhP30-70).

My verdict?  The honey was delicious -- I was never a fan of honey, but this one was seriously good enough to eat alone.   As for the soaps -- they smelled good enough to eat!  I have to resist the urge to bite into my spearmint and oatmeal soap bar every time I take a bath. Hehe. Quality wise, they're mild enough for sensitive skin (I have sensitive skin so if I use harsh soap I end up looking like a beehive), but still soap-y enough to get all the grease and grime and stinky smells off.

The prices are a bit more expensive than other local stores, especially since you have to go out of your way to get to it. (The farm is 800 meters away from the main road, and is only accessible through a narrow dirt road with talahib growing wildly on all sides.) But then again, Burt's Bees retails its products for so much more, so these are a steal.  I'm definitely going back for more if ever I'm in the area again.

how to be dead

If the storm breaks out all over you
Teardrops from the sky aren't something new
As the drops grow fuller, you know that it won't be over soon
War of the skies is what you face

It's over. I made a choice.

In some ways, the choice was made for me. I tried to be logical about my decision, and chose mind over heart. Then I curled up in a ball and waited.

What I thought would be a simple, matter-of-fact decision turned out to be one of the most harrowing experiences of my life. Somehow, it ended up not just being about the decision itself. How can you choose between two dreams? When you give up a dream, something in you always dies.

My hopes and beliefs were challenged. My trust was shattered. And through all this soul-searching, I found some friends and lost some along the way.

I guess it's what made this decision the hardest. While I have been blessed with a lot of people who cared enough to listen, some people I expected to be there for me failed me. The disappointment is unbearable.

When your pillar crumbles, you lose all your strength. And the moment I realized that they were not going to be there for me, I lost all mine.

My choice has been made, but this is far from over. I'm not going to say I'm okay. But I'm on a mission to find myself again, and to pick up the pieces that have chipped away. The other night I found myself wandering alone on the streets for hours, eventually ending up on a park bench watching people pass me by. Strangely, I found comfort in my solitude. I realize I hadn't done that in a long time.

And while I know that there will be many more moments of quiet desperation, there will also be days where I'll find refuge in myself.

One day I will finally be able to say I'm alive.

I've been asking questions
Looking for direction
But something tells me to listen as though
The wind knows where to go
-War of the Skies