What I Want For Christmas

I don't usually like receiving gifts. I received the most wonderful Christmas gift as a child. I don't think anything can top that ever.

I still remember that fateful Christmas day. I was six years old when I received a very big present. I can still remember the wrapper. When I opened the present, I was so pleasantly surprised. I received a very big teddy bear. I felt like the luckiest girl in the entire world. I probably was the luckiest girl that day.

My teddy and I were inseparable from that day forward. You would never see me, walking around without it. I took my teddy to my private tea parties or my private cooking sessions. I took my teddy to bed with me. I slept with my teddy wrapped in my arms. I still have my teddy until now. My teddy is inside my closet.

Somebody asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I told her that I don't like to receive gifts anymore. I think I'm well out of my materialistic phase. What I want, no one else can give it. What I want is not something that is not tangible. What I want, only I can get for myself.

I want independence. I want freedom. I want to become a better person. I want to contribute in making a better world. I don't think anyone can ever give that to me. I have to work on it by myself.

I have one wish though. I do wish for a good husband. I realize that I have no control over the people that comes and goes into my life. I have no control over the people that I meet. I only have control over what I decide to do with these relationships or how I interact with the people I meet along the way. And my wish is for me to meet a good person. A person with integrity. A person who isn't selfish. A person who is interesting and stimulating. A person who adores kids and wants to start a family of his own.

I realized that as you grow older, your priorities and your outlook changes. I can finally say that I've become an adult. It took me almost thirty years to say that.

My Ipod and Me

I'm attached to my Ipod. It has become a very necessary gadget. In fact, without it, I'll probably go insane. I listen to my mp3s on my Ipod when I'm caught on traffic. Since it's the holiday season, I need it more than ever. The holiday traffic is so horrendous and it's going to get worse.

I tried using my Ipod today as I was browsing the bookshelves of my favorite bookstore. To kill time, I sometimes read blurbs from the back cover of books. When I'm book hunting, I take my time. I'm no longer an impulsive book buyer. I only buy books which I know I'll read. That's why it's important that I read the blurb or the first few pages. For me, the plot doesn't matter much. It's the writing style. If the writing style is too crappy, I know I won't be able to finish the book. THat's why it's important that I read the first paragraph so I can gauge the author's writing style.

While perusing through the books, I listened to Robert Downey Jr.s' album, " The Futurist." His music is calming although I have no idea what he's singing about most of the time. I however love his song titled, " Broken Man." I think he's referring to his days as an active junkie. I also love Robert Downey's version of the song
" Smile." Rober Downey sings it with so much passion and respect. It's one of my favorite songs, meaning, I sing it often. The song, " Man Like Me" was written for his fiancee who has recently become his wife. The songwriter ( Downey himself ) explicitly mentions his drug addiction: "This is a habit I'm breaking now forever."

I loved the afternoon that I spent in the bookstore, listening to music and just tuning out the holiday hustle and bustle. If I have time tomorrow, I'm going to be spending another afternoon with my Ipod in a coffee shop. It's going to be so romantic.

Alone But Not Lonely

My married cousins frown on my single status. They all think that there is something wrong with me because I'm nearing my thirties and I'm still single. Just because I'm single doesn't mean I'm miserable. People equate aloneness with loneliness. I seldom feel lonely.

What my friends and relatives don't know is that I love hanging out with myself. I love to eat by myself. I want to write by myself. I want to read by myself. A few years ago, before the streets of Cebu became too dangerous to walk alone, I used to stroll around the city by myself. Walking around the city allowed me to think and gain a different perspective on my life and on life in general.

I don't walk by myself anymore. I think it's more stressful than relaxing. The streets are polluted and there are no sidewalks for pedestrians. There are also more reckless drivers ( especially the motorcycle drivers ) who don't give a hoot about pedestrians. If I want to maintain my sanity, I'd rather drive or take a cab.

Anyway, I enjoy my own company. I can savor my food more if I'm alone. I don't have to force myself to engage in perfunctory conversation with a friend or with an acquaintance. I don't have to pretend to be nice to someone. In fact, I'm more at ease when I'm alone. But sometimes, I get bothered by the stares that I get especially the stares that I get from middle-aged, balding men. I don't know why I get stares from old men. They don't exactly stare anymore, they ogle. They make me feel so uncomfortable, but since this is a free country, I can't do anything about it.

I noticed that there are many women like me. There are single women out there who enjoy their own company. One time, I spotted a girl drinking her coffee and eating her pancakes all alone. She seemed relaxed somehow with her Ipod and cellphone as her companions. She seemed comfortable being alone. I've noticed other single women, dining alone. They all seem content.

A few years ago, it was a rare sight for a young woman to go out of her house without any companions. But today, you can see women driving their cars and shopping by themselves. Women now are more independent. Women have more choices. Women have more rights. Women no longer need a man to complete them.

I never thought that I would turn out to be an independent woman. Just a few years ago, I was very dependent on my family. You would never see me without any companions be it a relative, a classmate or a friend. I was never alone. But recently, I have come to enjoy a more independent lifestyle. I drive alone, I eat alone, and I shop alone.

People think that single women are lonely. We are not lonely. In fact, we enjoy a certain kind of freedom that other women can't experience. A single woman is free to choose wherever she wants to go. She has so many choices. A single woman may be alone but she is never lonely. She can never be lonely as long as she enjoys her own company.

Dead Sick

I feel as if an eighteen-wheeler truck ran over me and left me for
dead. I have the bad case of flu. I may have contracted the virus from
a colleague at work. She was wearing a face mask while treating
her patient. Our center is not well-ventilated. The flu has been
circulating from person to person. Unluckily for me, I got it just
before Christmas. I'm going to be spending my Christmas break
sneezing, coughing and complaining. My muscles are so sore and my
entire body is so tired.

I think that the chronic lack of sleep has lowered my immunity. I've
been working for the hospital for one month now and have been getting by
on less than eight hours of sleep. I'm not used to that. I can't
function well without proper sleep.

I miss going to the gym. I so want to sweat this flu out but I doubt I
can lift weights. I'm probably going to die if I do. It's a miracle
that I'm still typing. My arms are very tired but my fingers however
are still nimble. My brain is semi-functional. I thought it would be a
good idea to recuperate while reading a new book.

I recently purchased a book about a prostitute's life in the expensive
city of London. I know I should be sick but her text sort of makes me
h*rny. I've only managed to read a few pages before I dozed off. I'm
awake again. That's why I'm typing this. Or I could be dreaming this.
Maybe I'm not really typing. Maybe I'm dreaming that I'm typing.

Anyway, she describes how she first went into the business. She was
first hired by a handsome couple who hired her for some
menage-a-trois. It was really provocative stuff.

I'm just very much interested in the life of others. Call me a voyeur
if you must but I really do like reading memoirs and autobiographies.
My favorite so far has been Frank McCourt's, Angela's Ashes. It was by
far the best memoir I read. The Pianist comes in a distant second. I'm
half-way through finishing Stephen King's memoir. I read it last night
but dozed off before I could finish it. It's not a compelling read so
I doubt that I'll be picking up where I left it anytime soon.

I know I should be worried but my grandfather is well taken care of.
He was admitted to the hospital last night for being unable to pee.
The doctors inserted a suprapubic cather into his bladder. That's when
they make an incision through your abdomen and to your bladder walls
to get the urine out. His urinary tract is blocked because his
prostate has swelled.

I know I should be sad. I really am but we really were expecting this
to happen. He was diagnosed with colon cancer ( some say he's got
stomach cancer ) six years ago. The doctors weren't able to get all
the cancer cells out after his surgery. There are some residual cancer
cells floating around in his body. I wouldn't be surprised if the
cancer infested his prostate too. Cancer cells are nasty little
critters.

My friend, who I had lunch with today ( it's a miracle I was able to
make it through our appointed lunch date ) said that widows/widowers
usually die a few months after their spouse dies. My grandmother died
last year. It's not going to be a coincidence if my grandfather soon
follows her.

I may sound too pessimistic but sadly, that's life. People go away.
People die. People who can't accept death are grossly abnormal. Death
is part of life. Life is part of death. I think we were already given
the death sentence the moment we were born. The moment we shifted our
existence from unlife to life, the clock started ticking.

There's a final countdown. It could be tomorrow. It could be today.
It could be five minutes from now. We don't know exactly when the
clock will say 'bye-bye.' We can only guess. But for the time being,
we can kiss and hug the ones we love and cherish them for a few
moments. In the end, we leave with nothing-- not even cherished
memories. It's a one way trip where we leave with nothing.

Spam Attack

This is terrible. As soon as I posted something on my website, I instantly received spam on my comments box. Is spam everwhere? They invade my email everyday and now they're victimising bloggers too?? This is too much. Spammers should be stopped!!! They're evil! And no, we don't care about what you're selling. If we did, we'd actually buy them!!!!

On Becoming A Woman

The hair on my legs finally came off. I am no cave-dweller but before tonight, I couldn't see any use for shaving or waxing my legs. It just seems so primitive. It's just like plucking one's eyebrows. It seems barbaric to hurt oneself for the sake of beauty. I swore to myself that I will never be a slave to beauty but I couldn't help it. I've been initiated. There's no turning back.

It all started with a trip to the salon several months ago. I went there to have my bothersome comedones extracted. My facialist must have been so bothered by my bushy eyebrows that she volunteered to shape it. I was in no position to say no. I was lying supine on the bed and she was holding a razor. It would have been crazy of me to disagree with her.


So, the woman with her razor blade, shaved my bushy eyebrows. After the procedure, I looked like a transvestyte. You know the kind who always has a surprised look on his face. When I got home, people noticed my new eyebrows but didn't really say anything. At work, my colleagues asked me about what I had done. I told them about this crazy woman with a razor who shaved my eyebrows for free.

Since I'm too lazy to go to the salon to have my eyebrow shaped every week, I do it at home. I went to a store and bought my first ever eyebrow plucker-- a very handy instrument of torture.

My first eyebrow plucking experience was traumatic. It was so painful pulling each hair strand for strand. I had to will myself to continue the said masochistic act. But over time, I got used to plucking. I even developed my own technique. The secret is in the wrist. Of course, buying a curved plucker helps too. I learned that when I bought a new plucker after I lost my old one.

Tonight I just achieved another milestone. I have successfully removed most ( not all ) of my leg hairs. I didn't wax it because they say it's the most painful thing. I didn't pluck it because that would have been excruciating. I used this depilating cream which smells awful. I let the cream sit for five minutes before wiping it off. After five minutes, the hair came off. I was surprised to find that my legs are actually white under all those dark hair.

It's funny that at twenty-seven and three-fourths, I'm only trying to figure out how to live life like a real girl. A few months ago, I didn't care much about the way I looked. It doesn't mean that I didn't take a bath or brush my teeth. I was just trying to live a simple life. For me looking presentable was enough. I never made any effort to look pretty because it obviously takes a lot of work. And in my case, it takes tons of work to make me look pretty. But since the ball has started rolling, there's no turning back.

I realize that I'm just a newbie to this so-called beauty-torture thing. When I go to the women's section of a department store, I get overwhelmed by all the gadgets and beauty products that they have. It's like I'm stepping into a whole new world that I never knew that existed. I really thought that a woman just needs soap, shampoo, water and a comb in order to survive. But now, I'm learning new terms like 'exfoliation' and encountering products like eye creams, loofahs, bath gels, et cetera.

It's not that I'm giving-in to the dictates of the gay fashionistas and the beauty experts. I don't buy beauty magazines. I just get to read those stuff whenever I visit a salon which isn't that often. It's just that I'm trying to have some fun. I'm single and I just want to feel better about myself.

I admit, maybe subconsciously, I'm getting a bit desperate. I mean, I'm almost thirty and still there's no prospective husband in sight. But I'm not motivated by that right now or at least not consciously anyway. I just want to look good and feel good about myself. And probably subconsciously, I don't want people to say that I didn't try my best to snag a husband ( supposing I die a spinster ). I really am doing all of this to make myself feel better. Or possibly subconsciously, I don't want my future husband ( supposing I do manage to lure one ) to leave me because I have more hair on my legs than he does. But really, I'm doing this beauty-torture thing to make myself feel wonderful.

I'm currently experimenting with lip gloss. I haven't mustered enough courage to progress to lipstick. Maybe when I'm forty. Right now, I'm trying to figure out the benefits of using lip gloss over using lip balm. After my lip gloss lessons, I'm thinking of trying mascara. I haven't tried that yet. It should be exciting.

originally posted on: http://blogspot.serialcomplainer.com

New Posts, Old Posts

I've been updating my other blogsite frequently but have ignored this one. My other site is old. It doesn't allow people to comment on what I've written. So far, I've had 1000 views on my older site. I don't know how many people have visited this blogsite since I put it up. I don't want to install a webcounter here because webcounters aren't that accurate. If I view my own site, the counter will consider it as one view. If I reload the same page, the webcounter will again consider it as another view. So there's no way of actually telling whether I've had 1000 actual visitors to my site or I've just viewed my own page 1000 times which isn't that impossible. I have been updating my older site frequently.

Since I'm too lazy to write something new today, I'm just going to click and paste the content of my old blogsite here. I posted something there that would be more appropriate here.

Wedding Madness

My friend has gotten married last week. Tomorrow is her first week as a married woman. I haven't talked to her since her wedding.

I did enjoy going to her wedding. The guests were just right. They weren't too many and they weren't too few. The food was okay too. The place where the reception was held wasn't so bad either. It was a well-planned wedding over all.

We weren't supposed to attend the wedding ceremony since the room was small and reserved only for the principal sponsors and my friend's family. But hey, we sneaked in anyway. It's a once in a lifetime event. No way am I going to miss my friend's wedding. I haven't missed their weddings so far. I've been to lots of my friends' and cousins' weddings. I may be the only one left unmarried. Okay, I may be exaggerating a bit but it sure does feel that way.

There are times when I feel that I'm okay being single forever and there are times when I feel left out. I feel like such a freak sometimes. I'm starting to think that perhaps there's something wrong with me because I haven't managed to snag a husband yet.

I don't want to get married just for the sake of marrying. I'd rather be single and alone rather than be married and miserable.

Questions

Jay or Conan?
Jay's a nice guy. Conan's a funny guy. I like them both. I watch them both.

Handsome or Not-so Handsome but Sensitive?
I'm definitely go for personality over looks. I think it's the personality of a guy that really matters. If he's sensitive and handsome too, that would be a treat.

Artistic or Regular Guy
I'm artistic myself but I wouldn't want to be with a guy who is artistic. Too temperamental. We'll clash. I think. I don't want a regular guy. A regular guy is way boring. I like a smart guy who can speak five languages. Someone who is never boring. Someone creative. Okay, I'll take the artistic over the regular guy.

Sci-fi or Romance
Romance movies make you feel good. But sci-fi makes you think. I go for the latter. Romance movies are too superficial sometimes.

What turns you on?
The eyes. It tells a whole lot about a person. If I look into someone's eyes, I can see what they're like even if I've only met them for the first time. But the thing is, I don't stare into someone's eyes until I really have to. For me, the eyes are something very private. It truly is the window to one's soul.

What turns you off?
Stupidity. Superficiality. A lack of personality. A boring person turns me off.

Pet Peeves?
Bigotry. Discrimination. Racism. Superiority Complex.

Novels of choice?
I read the classics and contemporary literature. I also read fluffy stuff. When it comes to modern chic lit, I think that the Brits or the Irish are way superior. Their writers are actually very witty. I go for serious books which deals with death and dying. I read anything actually, as long as the writing style is good. I usually go for style over plot. For me, the plot is secondary. It's how you tell a story that's truly important.

Shoes or Books?
Books. Books. Books. I'm a shopaholic when it comes to books. I just buy shoes unless it is neccesary. I can't live without books.

If you won the lottery what would you do with the money?
I'd pack my bags and go on a very long vacation. I'll visit all the tourist spots all over the world.

What do you listen to?
I listen to all sorts of stuff. I listen to jazz and rock. I listen to R&B or techno. I'm not choosy. I'm all about the tune and the lyrics.

Speed Racer

I'm a bit embarrassed to learn that it was indeed my insurance agent driving on slow speed that I overtook on the road. I didn't know the plates to her car but I suspected that it was her because she left ahead of me. We had come down together but she took a different path to her parking lot. We had the same destination somewhat. She was going to my neighborhood too to pick up someone. I wonder what she thinks of me now.

I'm sort of a speed demon. I like driving really fast. I accelerate pretty fast. I'm usually the first one who steps on the gas when the traffic lights turn green. No one, not even taxi drivers can catch up with me when I accelerate from a full stop. Maybe it's my car's fast pick-up ( it is a sports coupe ) or maybe it's my fast reflexes. I don't know. Maybe it's both.

I don't know why I like to speed up. I wasn't really aware that I like fast speeds until my passengers and my family pointed it out to me. They keep mentioning that I drive fast. I might be in denial but I don't think I drive that fast. I'm only now starting to discover my love for speed.

During my recent trip to Germany, I encountered the much hyped about autobahn. They say that it's like America's freeway. I was surprised and more than elated when I found out that you can drive for speeds of up to 200 kilometers per hour. Usually, in my city, I drive at speeds of around 40 or 50 kilometers per hour. Sometimes I reach 60 if I really want to. It's fast considering that the speed limit here is only 30 kilometers per hour.

When I passed by the autobahn, I was salivating. Germany's autobahn had no potholes and the road stretched on for miles and miles. I found myself imagining driving on their autobahn. What a joy it would be to finally drive straight without thinking of obstructions like people, taxis, bicycles, small objects, stones, etc. It would absolutely be heavenly to drive at speeds of over 100 kilometer. I suddenly missed driving. That's when I knew that I was a speed freak.

After my trip to Europe, I don't think I'm ever the same. I've seen their roads, their structures, their people. It's just a revelation. I'm looking forward to my next trip there. It's not just the autobahns that I miss. It's everything in Europe that I miss.

Of course, nothing compares to driving at home. We may not have the best roads here or the best driving conditions but we do have the most fun at driving. Where else in the world do you have ten thousand things to watch out for when driving. If you can master driving in our country, you can master driving anywhere. The drivers here have to watch out not only for vehicles but also for pedestrians who appear out of nowhere. We have to watch out for running children. We have to watch out for stray dogs and cats. We have to be careful not to fall into a big pothole. Then there are basketballs to watch out for. Or people on motorcyles and wobbly bicycles. Then there are rocks, cans, even road-side mechanics to look out for. It is not uncommon to find mechanics doing the repairs in the middle of the road. Apparently, they're not aware of proper safety measures because they go under the vehicle while half of their body is exposed to the road. Any vehicle could just run over them but they don't seem to mind. They're going to do their repairs anyway. Then there's big vehicles like trailer trucks, container vans, cargo vehicles, etc. It really is a miracle how people here can drive. It's just so challenging.

Someone once told me about a friend who drove in the States but couldn't handle driving in the Philippines. This friend tried to drive here but she quit after several minutes and asked for another driver. She just couldn't handle the pressure.

When I started driving, I found it overwhelming. I thought that all the vehicles were going after me or going to hit me. It is true. The drivers here don't have any regard for their fellow drivers. They'll steal your part of the road if they have to just so they could get in front of you. They overtake you or try to intimidate you. They try to push you aside or try to harass you. It really can be quite stressful. It's harder when you're a girl. When a driver finds out that the driver is a girl, they'll drive you off the road if they have to. They'll scare you into surrending your space. I used to be bullied a lot by male drivers especially the taxi drivers. But nowadays, I don't get intimidated by them anymore. I fight back.

Just this afternoon, a taxi driver tried to go ahead in front of me. He was basically stealing my place since he was from the wrong lane. I fought back. I didn't let him win. We played a game of chicken. He was the one who chickened out. I'm not afraid to compete with another vehicle if I know that I have the right way. And sometimes, just sometimes, it's nice to fight back. Just because I'm a girl doesn't make me a weenie. I'm a girl driver but I know how to play the male driver's game too. Besides, I want to teach them a lesson. Not all female drivers are afraid of these big bullies.