ZEN Bitchin'

As I am writing this, I can feel a distinct throbbing on the inside of my right arm. It is not painful, but it is a physical reminder of what I did last Sunday, Valentine’s day. I have written in my previous post my feelings on (with a delicious experience related to) Valentine’s day. This year, like years past, I wasn’t paying much attention to it much, even though it is difficult to ignore it here in Phnom Penh (again, please refer to said previous post). On Friday night, I was supposed to have dinner with V, my closest-thing-to-a-date, but he begged off because of a pressing family matter. When he suggested that we had dinner on Sunday itself, I almost bristled, and said, “Let’s see”, and left it at that. I didn’t tell him that I have an extreme aversion to going out on a date on V-day itself.

In any case, I wouldn’t have been able to go with him since I had already signed up to join a group of friends to volunteer at Habitat for Humanity as construction workers for a day (which, as it turned out, half a day in our case). This particular activity is somehow connected to  PiNOYs for Change, a group that was formed with the specific purpose of providing support to Noynoy Aquino, but at that time it was not clear to me.

I woke up at 5.30AM on Sunday to make the 7Am trip to Oudong, which is about 35 kilometers from Phnom Penh. I traveled with D because he brought his 2 year-old daughter with him, commando-style (meaning: no nanny). A third of the contingent were already at the site when we arrived. About half an hour later, the last group arrived. After a quick breakfast and a short safety orientation by the construction manager, we donned the required gear (gloves & hard hat for the brick-layers, plus goggles and face masks for the brick-makers) over the suggested outfits (rubber shoes, trousers, long-sleeved shirts) and we were off to work.

» Read the rest of this entry «

Until now, I still find Valentine’s day to be  a strange holiday. From my childhood I remember that it coincides with Teacher’s day at school, a time when we give flowers and little gifts to our mentors after mass or a short program on the nobility of teachers and teaching as a profession. In high school Valentine’s day is usually when the Junior and Senior Prom is held–a time of serious adolescent anguish for me. In our home, Valentine’s day is usually observed by a somewhat special dinner cooked by my mother, with the night ending with me being tucked in bed a little earlier than usual. My parents are not the romantic, touchy-feely type of couple. Their affection for each other, I’m afraid, is for the most part, Edwardian. They are very decorous, and cautious of revealing too much of themselves. This is probably why I’m such a cold-hearted bitch myself. Of course, I joke. In recent years dinner is still being served, but with the physical improbability of them being able to tuck me in bed early, I now take it upon myself to “conveniently” vanish at the appointed time.

Here in Buddhist Cambodia, where I have seen Valentine’s day for at least 5 years, I’m still surprised at the increasing fervor in which this holiday is being celebrated. I would venture an opinion that it rivals–if not exceeds the celebration of Christmas, in terms of the commercial aspects of this particular holiday. From almost every street corner of Phnom Penh, vendors with flowers, balloons, plush toys and other gifts sprout like mushrooms after a rainy day. Blame this on the increasing purchasing power of the so-called middle class Cambodians, or on the fact that more than half of Cambodia’s population is under the age of 24, even on the youth’s love of anything barang (foreign).

Now, there has never been a Valentine’s day when I had someone to celebrate it with. It always come at at time when I had no lover, or if I had one, we always seemed to fight a week or a few days before that day, to reconcile a few days after, or never. Some of my friends think it’s a deliberate effort on my part, but it’s not. Really. I don’t mind spending for some gifts, silly as some of them might be. Though I’m clearly not the world’s biggest romantic (refer to my Edwardian parents above), I still long for that day when someone who’s not my friend will greet me a happy Valentine’s day with a kiss, or God forbid, a gift of sweets or of fragrance. But there are times when life seems to play a practical joke on me, forcing me to laugh at myself rather than risk being laughed at by others.

» Read the rest of this entry «

By some twist of fate, the start of the project I recently acquired was postponed, leaving me with a 2-week gap I had no way of filling with other bits of work, having refused a short assignment in the end of January. Another source of mild irritation in this turn of events is the fact that I missed going to Bangkok to meet a dear individual because I expected to be working on Monday. I could only clench my jaws and shake my fist against the sky crying, ‘Why, God?’ Of course, I exaggerate. That instant, two words flashed in my mind: ‘movie marathon’. During this time, I also learned that the American version of ‘Ugly Betty’ has been canceled, and will consequently end its 4-year run in a few weeks. This provided me the impetus to finally get the DVD of ‘Ugly Betty’. I always tried my best to catch it at Star World but I think I managed to watch most of season 1 only. So off I went to my friendly-neighborhood (pirated) DVD-store and promptly got me the first 3 seasons of ‘Ugly Betty’.

America Ferrera as Betty, circa season 4

Towards the end of season 1 a scene tugged at the remaining strings of my heart. In this scene, Betty (America Ferrera) was being prevailed upon by her father, sister, and nephew to forgive her colleague/friend who betrayed Betty’s trust. Frustrated, her elder sister Hilda exclaimed that Betty was too hard on her friends. Betty denied this with alacrity but when her father and nephew agreed with Hilda, she was forced to examine herself if she was indeed being too hard on her friends.

The state of my friendships has been relatively peaceful since the turmoil of the last 2 years. However, lately, I have found myself becoming irritated at some of my friends over the most mundane things. I have increasingly felt that most of the people around me seem to be able to do nothing but fail me in some way or another. This feeling did not help me at all. It, in fact, added to my distress, fueling my desire to avoid company as much as possible, for fear of being hurt or worst, frustrated.

Like Betty I had been told that I’m too hard on my friends. Unlike Betty I did not deny this. On some fundamental level, I know that this is at least partly true. I think, because it takes me a long time to be friends with somebody, I tend to completely give my trust to the few that become my friends. In addition, probably because of my insecurities, I like–no, I need to be reassured that this particular friend deserves my friendship. Because of this, I always tend to subject my friendships (and my friends) to tests and experiments.

» Read the rest of this entry «

I do not wish to write about the holidays again and yet here I am doing so. The past holiday season did not leave me with feelings of joy that I usually felt before. In fact, if anything, I felt absolutely mirthless over-all. Sure, I had bursts of exhilaration and cheer (which can be mistaken for real happiness) but these were ‘facilitated’ by external agents like drugs and alcohol. In fact, I was so glad, no–thankful that the holidays are over. That’s one less reason for my innards to continually knot themselves into tight balls inside my belly.

Still, there are other things that I’m also thankful for during the past holiday season: the gifts. Yes, you read it right. In spite of the general malaise that my prose has exhibited of late, when it comes to gifts (giving & receiving–but more on the receiving), I am still a big soft, fluffy monkey. Of all the gifts I received, these are the ones I like most.

What’s not to like about this gift? It’s orange, it has a cute chicken in front, and it’s a giant egg-shell! It’s adorable, and with no real purpose in life other than being beautiful (and yes, adorable). Scrump was given by another friend, who knows I sorta collect Lilo’s (Lilo from Lilo and Stitch, not LiLo the Lindsay Lohan) doll. I just put in there because of the great contrast in color.

I love books. Books as presents I love more. This book was given to me by the author himself. This self-published memoir chronicles his struggle at reconciling his sexuality with his faith. Some people might find the thickness of the book daunting, but I read it in one sitting, one cool evening. Ray writes such fluid prose, making the reading process easier. But this is not to say that it’s an unremarkable book. Some of the contents are bordering on the ’scandalous’–depending on the degree of one’s modesty (read: prudishness). As for me, there were some moments that made me blush. But all in all it is a compelling read. I promised Ray a review of his book in this blog. I will do a ‘proper review’ in the coming days.

» Read the rest of this entry «

I didn’t expect that I’d be able to write this post, because I felt that the past holiday season went by in a blur, almost a drug-induced haze that it didn’t seem worth writing about. And yet here I am, doing exactly the opposite of what my glum heart has told me to: ignore the holidays, let it pass like water flowing around river stones. I don’t remember much, actually. My memories these days are more confined to what I was feeling rather than on what was happening.

I went through the motions of fixing the Christmas tree, which turned out better than I expected (though I wouldn’t admit it). I went through my friends’ plans of hosting a Christmas eve party at home, instead of a Christmas day lunch that I usually did in the past. This experience taught me that a potluck party is way better than people contributing money then having the cooking done by just a few people only.

Why? Because when the expenses exceeded the pooled money, nobody volunteered to make a second contribution to the one who handled the cooking. Moi. I however, hope that everyone had a good time. Based on the level of intoxication of people, it’s safe to say that they did have a good time. I was, in fact, so drunk that night that I only managed to help V, my room-mate, a little in tidying up after the party before sleep claimed me.

The rooftop of our flat was decorated for the party. In the end there were too much food (which we ate for the next 2 days, it seemed) but not too much whiskey, vodka & beer. There were new friends (at least to me), resurrected friends, and friends of friends who attended the party.

The Beautiful Ones

» Read the rest of this entry «

Although the title of the post suggests a reminiscing of sorts, I will not do it simply because last year this was exactly what I was doing: thinking about last Christmas. My Christmas eve tonight will be a busy one; the house will be the venue of our Christmas party. This means I will make an early trip to the market and the supermarket in about 6 hours, then spend the day cooking and preparing the house for the party. I am not in the party mode at all. If truth be told, I’d rather spend it quietly, alone. However, lately I do not trust myself to be alone with my thoughts. So, even if my innards feel like they’re rolled into a tight ball, I have decided to go through with the party.

Also, it took me quite a while… and after a seemingly long delay, caused by many things (procrastination, learning a new software in my macbook–goodbye, CorelDraw! deciding on which photo to use, which design to do, and what message to write, plus all the wranglings brought on by a simple yet brutal lack of inspiration), here it is finally: my holiday card for 2009.