My Social Prerogative Versus An Occupational Must

A brief rundown of my social history and characteristics:

Quiet and shy. Never a social butterfly. More of a larvae: unmoving; socially retarded. That’s me.

Push me into a ‘sizable’ group of female acquaintances and there’s no chance you’d hear my voice for two hours straight. Dumb smiling or listening is all I’d be able to manage. Confounding, yes. It’s actually one of the great mysteries of this planet.

In the company of ‘a modest number of’ friends I feel comfortable with, I am gregarious. My close pals would vehemently apprise others, “Geena (my blog name now, btw) is quiet and shy? No way.”

In college, my attempts to look cool, like my “gangmates”, included lighting up a cigarette every now and then during our hangouts. Still, for all my stab at sophistication, the flavor of smoke on my tongue was atrocious. So in the few seconds my pals weren’t looking, I’d spit out the foul taste on a nearby soil. I’d turn around only to see them laughing at me.

In my 20’s I started carrying a persona which was equivalent to: “You don’t like me? That’s tough. As I couldn’t care less.” Not entirely or always accurate from my core, of course.

My 20’s also saw me conducting with a lighter carriage amid my dealings with the opposite sex. I don’t know. Compared to women, it’s a breeze to be genial around men. It might have something to do with my being a tomboy as a girl. Plus the fact I simply like men.

The male bestfriends I had had were mostly gay; although my closest confidantes have been female. I believe it’s practically impossible to have a straight man for a ‘real’ bestfriend. Deep inside, straight men could consider only a fellow dude their true bff.

I’ve adopted a torpid stance in the pursuit and preservation of friendships these days. All relationships require effort. I figure why go pleasing certain #&@% when my own company is a lot more pleasant. Right right, I could get self-absorbed I admit. Or maybe, this is another plain manifestation of growing older. But really, most ladies my age here I find too blabby, as in blah blah blahbby bohring. Am I of semblance, as well? Indubitably not. Don’t forget — I am strange.

I hate pretending, to boot. Albeit there’s Breaking News: This coming summer season at school, whatever remains of my social skills will be put to a test – in the performance of my job. However did that come about? Story below.


I have two bosses – both foreigners; both from the land of unrepentant consumers of our beloved Bow-wow-wows. I am at the moment sitting across from the more difficult head honcho. Inside his room are he, the head teacher, and I. The special meeting has been going on for nearly an hour.

Our company is in the red – especially throughout off-peak seasons. We must try harder to keep students and not lose them, regardless of their disposition toward learning English. Teacher M, you have to pretend – even if the students aren’t good enough or well-behaved. No doubt as to your competence, but…you must strive to be like the other teachers who have to put on an act that all students are likable. For the benefit of our school.”

Holy Mother of Monster Tuna, how am I supposed to pull off something that repulsive (I ponder with worry).

Can I rely upon you on this matter?”

A painful pause. Sir…..I’ll try.”

You can’t just tell me you’ll try. Tell me you’re going to do it.”

A long, difficult silence befalls.

I don’t know… allow me some time to think about it.” Well, my conjecture is management can’t castigate me for maintaining my bar — which aims toward my predilection for diligent students, over the insolent and indolent ones. They should know I have my privileges, in view of my pioneering role in the academy.

My boss senses this. He begins to execute his last recourse: Teacher M, I’m begging you…”

Now that is mortifyingly awkward — sussing I’ve reduced my boss to pleading to his mere subordinate. Oh dear old MrPark, you need not beseech me.

Okay sir, I’ll do it.” I blurt out. “I am going to pretend. And I’m doing it only because you ask me to. This one I’d be willing to do. Just for you.”

A hint of blissful reassurance glints underneath my boss’s reserved demeanor.

It’s a tall order I may not be able to follow. I must remind myself, however, of the times my bosses put up with me, of the many times they had been patient with me – especially in one, no, two instances when I had plonked my job on the line for personal reasons (uh, that’ll be another blog post). I owe them that much.

We all came out of the meeting with a lighter heart. Giving in to his request somehow provided a hush, sided by a feeling of gladness.

Now I have to make a pact with myself to do a double sign of the cross each time I enter a classroom.



This favorite dance tune of mine by Bobby Brown was from the soundtrack of “Ghostbusters 2” a movie I didn’t like much. I love “Ghostbusters 1”, though, largely because of Bill Murray, whom I have adored ever since his first major hit — the wonderful and delightful film “Stripes.”

This star-studded video also (for a few seconds) featured Christopher Reeve, the original Man of Steel no other actor playing Superman could surpass.

Anyway, here’s the talented Bobby Brown before his messy marriage to the famous singer. I am of the opinion, too, the song is another underrated piece of his.

The Trouble With Me, I Guess

I’ve written before of how some people were able to hammer down the walls I had built. Show me a little kindness; show me a little consideration – and you can keep my heart for as long as you want.

So instances of broken trusts, or cruel words, or repeated disregard for my feelings can grow thorns onto a rose — for my mind has come to hold you in reverence. I’m aware as well it’s just a matter of time before the coldest fog between us sets in. The glass walls, which this time are unbreakable, eventually slide up around me and there will be no words left, other than a look that says you can’t hurt me now.

Yes, I have been called cold-hearted more than once.

Loyalty and dedication are virtues that don’t serve merely as superficial words for me. I flinch thinking of the moments I had used the word “friend” to regard a few people I held dear in my past. It could take some time to disentangle myself due to the degree of my attachment, I confess. The connection might renew at a distant future – although things cannot be the same as they were before.

Accuse me of being sentimental, of being a fool, of being someone with a flair for drama, whatever. Just don’t make me surrender to something that cannot be part of my nature. We are from different worlds, it seems.

And do not speak of a faithfulness that you’ve professed to have been carrying – unless you can surpass mine.


Been hanging around You Tube this weekend listening to my favorite songs from way back. Was I glad to have found this gospel-like rendition of George Benson’s “Unchained Melody.” I fell for it the first time I heard it in my late teens. I can’t believe it took me this long – almost 25 years – to search for the song and listen to it again. It remains as the best version ever.

I plan to include in every post my favorite songs from now on since they play a major role in my happiness.

Words with the Candle Burning

They’ve been gazing at the flame of this candle

candlethat keeps glowing in the dark,

as they sit face to face

within the beauty of their quiet space.

The potent hue being sent out by the tiny light

is polishing his face and shoulders

in golden subtlety.

Then he starts to speak

of a tumult in his youth…

She listens,

watching him search for the right words

that will clarify his past.

But it seems a darker shade of light

is holding him away from a story to be told.

Or perhaps he feels remorse

for some incident being echoed

by the ghosts of a long-lost love.

She’s about to fall into a dream

when he calls out her name softly,

pulling her back to their special place

where she feels safe and warm again.


-marj 2013

A Birthday Greeting for MrMary

I normally go offline during weekdays so I can concentrate on my job and won’t be distracted by the Internet – most especially by the blogosphere. Spending time here -reading and commenting – is one of my current pleasures in life, yet if I don’t watch it, it’ll wreak havoc to my daily routine and schedule. But I had to go online tonight because it’s my blogger pal’s birthday. This friend of mine has been with me here for almost a year now. He’s been like a younger brother to me and I’m sure he considers me like an elder sister. We kind of made a pact in the not so distant past we’re gonna be pals for as long as we can. Well, I’m counting on that.  I guess part of the reason why my camaraderie with him has been, so far, my most successful and the longest one is because we do not take each other so seriously. Sometimes we are there for each other, sometimes we’re not, but the connection stays anyway. The exchange between us has always been lighthearted – not much expectation as what usual friends hold. Nonetheless, we respect each other and try to be sensitive towards what either of us might be going through. Also one of the most intelligent WordPress writers I’ve ever met, this dear friend of mine has recently moved to his new home in New Jersey with his long-time lady. I’m happy for them and wish them quite well.

Dear blogger Dave (of the blog “A Spoonful of Sugar”), this is the poem (if you can call it that) I promised I’d come up with on your birthday. I’ve warned you I ain’t poetic, but just this once, I will be :-). Except for the supposed poem, everything here is extemporaneous. So, bear with me.


You’re a man of a dozen seminal passions

who’s prolific in manner of words and styles

A man full of facets and dimensions

who lets nothing disrupt or colonize his visions.

Yet you haven’t had the easiest life

And have even served time

in the land of compliance

But life keeps on cutting and polishing you

For the promise of better judgment

For the promise of resplendent ideals.

You generously award your trust

along with your graceful heart

for nameless, faceless strangers

in hopes of infinite connections

For fellowships you could only hope

would be beyond superficial.

You’ve inevitably exposed your soul

to the hurts of this world

Because there’s nothing more you’d want

than to belong to the truth.

May you further your flight

by letting more stories happen to you

while strengthening your voice

and defending your insights with fire.

May you be the best guardian

of your heart and choices,

In balancing the act of light and shadow

through the intense art of your ways.

May you be able to battle

the enchanting song of certain sorrows

That I may see you,

my best blogger pal,

integrate your heart, your spirit,

your intellect, your being,

into the finest man you’re meant to be.

You know that with writing,

You and I

may just be bound

in this blogging world we reside

never to part as friends.


Happy 32nd Birthday to you.


February Babe Musings (The Month of Hearts and The Awesome MrMary)

“It’s the love month!” – my sister posted in all alacrity on her FB wall on the 1st day of February, which prompted me to reply, “Oh alright, I have to rush and reconnect with my French model boyfriend I met on the Internet who moonlights as a linguist, so he can express to me the romantic three-word sentence in at least a dozen different versions.”

I wrote that in jest, of course. A nuance of cynicism towards her surreptitiously intended. Anyway, as it’s currently the “month of love”, everybody is going to write about it and I am no exception. But that will have to materialize in a succeeding post because the hub of my musings for this month is about a blogger pal of mine whose recent gesture has been surprising to me – in a most touching manner.

I am talking about the awesome MrMary – the one who has become a dear blogging friend to me; the one who went out of his way to put out a back to back feature on a recent post of mine (He’s basically got a generous heart for his fellow bloggers). He first kicked things off with a reblog; which he followed with a post expressing words of tenderness and empathy. A virtual hug of solace and a couple of touching vlogs  (video+blog) were included, too. And then he ended it all with a beautiful heartbreaking poem from Victor Hugo. It was so unexpected and sweet of him to do all that considering our interaction has practically been limited to clicking Like in each other’s blogs and my dropping a commentary in his site every now and then. It’s one more proof how a gesture from another sympathetic blogger can bring solace, and kindness that breezes through your heart – you end up thinking it’s still a nice world after all.

Now let me talk a little more about MrMary whose real name is Dave. We are talking about one very bright guy here – and a darling of a blogger at that. And can be very much funny, too. Being a history educator for grad students, this guy can easily fork out quotations from a number of the most respectable minds that ever lived on this planet. A dash of David Foster Wallace here, a little of Baudelaire there, something from the great Charles Bukowski, and many others. You get them all. His vernacular can shift in many interesting ways, providing you with perspectives beyond the confines of standard rationalism. And if, like me, you delight in some kind of regular movement in a blog, do click on this guy’s site as it’s no sweat for him to generate more than a single post in one day. Scroll through his archives and you are sure to find something that might just be your cup of tea. Most probably, you’d stumble on a gem that carries his 24k perception and insights about life and indispensable issues. I’m telling you, the guy has substance. And I still haven’t gotten to what he possesses in terms of wit and humour.

A little caution for the weak-hearted though; his treatment of a subject matter at times could get audacious – leaning a bit on the daring side, which nevertheless his readers including me practically go for. No topic is off-limits as he’s competent to pull off an intelligent discourse about almost anything, while nonetheless courteous and polite in the comments section.

He referred to me as a sweet type of person. I like that. But wait, a speck of reality check here: ok, the term has been used several times by people to describe me – yet every time I hear it, I say to myself, “Me? Sweet? They couldn’t possibly be talking about me.” So I may as well allow you to get to know me better. I tend to be sweet only to friends and family members I like. I can be all sugary and genial habitually to my favorite people but I can also be apathetic to the ones I couldn’t care less – er, sometimes to the point of cold-heartedness. As I’ve stated before, the owner of this blog is no angel.

Although nowhere in the vicinity of this man’s cerebral acuity, he reminds me a bit of myself, especially in my younger years. Frank, intense in several ways, bohemian in certain modes. Show us niceness and we’ll try to reciprocate tentimesfold. There can be no obscurity as to who we really are because of our need to thrive on savage honesty. Another well-guarded trait is this fierce loyalty to (in my case, selected) members of friends and family – which is beyond question.


Every now and then I get this yearning to be infused with wild wisdom; for a few radical beliefs to look me in the eye. Lacking in the smarts department, I crave for a seat in the audience of the best and brightest writers of WordPress. The ones who can pull me a step higher than my current intellect. I am that desperate in that area, you see.  🙂  Hopeless dreamer, you think?

Below are links to some of my most favorite posts (although there are many more others) from MrMary’s A Spoonful of Suga so far. You might like them too.

Essays For Future & Current Highschool Honor Students (1)

Best Wishes & Good Luck to Everyone in the Blogger Idol 2012

Sharing my Ruminations on the Blogger Idol 2012 with Love

Sharing The First Poem I Ever Got Published

A Personal Post For All My Fans and Readers

The iPhone 5, Jurgen Habermas, Langdom Winner & some random Observations

In the vlog he dedicated to me, MrMary has nailed it when he said that for as long as the people who reared us are still around, we are secured in knowing we are somebody’s child. But when they’re gone…well…

How am I doing nowadays, you might ask? Honestly, my sadness still varies in tone; my outlook still seeped in cold monochrome. Some days are ok. Some aren’t. Huge shadows of regret and guilt still pop up anytime which could hurl me several steps backwards. I am aware there’s no quick path to getting from here to a comfortable reclamation.

And I don’t want to give the impression that I am this much close (See my two fingers almost touching together) to slitting my wrist. No, no, no… Never did I have any inclination for that and no intention at all to scare away my readers. I know I must strengthen my coping skills. I’ve got to concentrate on other matters. It’s the only way.

Please know that I am grateful to all of you who took the time to visit and drop comments here; to each and everyone who gave me support and loving kindness. As I’ve learned, leaning on your fellow bloggers could be of substantial aid on your way up and out.

Thanks to you all.

Thank you, Dave.

November Babe Musings (Random Ruminations About Blogging and A Nondescript Existence)

Make no mistake. This seems to be the best time of my life, although nothing earth-shaking or exciting has been happening. I go to work on weekdays every morning. Go home at around 6pm. Read, eat, sleep, study, write. Very simple and quiet. It makes me wonder: how come I’m loving every minute of my present peaceful existence? Maybe I was meant to lead a run-of-the-mill life after all. To go through an average routine day in and day out. The kind I resisted in my younger years. I thought then fulfillment means seeking out what other people have. Heavy romance, material stuff, full schedule, night-outs with friends and flames. I thought having more people that constantly surround, recognize and validate me would make me feel better. That included working hard to keep my marriage afloat in order to maintain a stable family life. Yet during those periods when I was struggling to have it all, I was not happy and I felt miserable.

I could have grown plain tired of them all.

Or maybe, this certain “maturity” has given me a new appreciation for the things that truly matter.

603509_366843926718096_1450682356_n[1]Funny, falling in love with an illusion has become more appealing to me. A trick of the light so distant it’s beyond anyone’s grasp. If it breaks my heart, I figure, there will be fewer complications. Lesser damage, I suppose. And I get to go through crap which is unlike the ones I experienced in my past.

And maybe too, I am not making much sense at all.

There seems to be some paradox that exist within me these days. One undeniable paradox I’ve got to deal at this point: even though I seem to have finally found my balance, guilt creeps in everytime thoughts of someone dear to me – whose life is fast slipping away – come to mind. Everything is going well, yet the person who has been instrumental to my current equanimity will be leaving me for good anytime soon. An inescapable reality that at times leaves me in a bind. Complete utopia continues to elude me.

This blogging thing also feels like there’s a whole new world in here which I may never get to understand. I simply want to be myself and be able to express everything. As in everything that’s on my mind. But I’m afraid that’s not always possible. I have to keep on reminding myself there will always be people who won’t feel comfortable with my honesty and some of the things I’ve got to say. It might have been a principal reason why I’ve been passive in the two years this blog has been in existence. This medium I never intended for some particular ends. Certainly not to become popular, do business, start a romance, widen my network, or harbor any hidden agenda. As I’ve repeatedly said before, I just wanted to put my f%*#ing thoughts down.

But I’d hate to be misunderstood. Clicking Like and commenting on other blogs should be practised with more caution I guess. I like reading so much though – ditto for appreciating good prose and the writer’s corresponding prowess. You see, I take pleasure in reading – a thousand times more than writing itself.

Because of time constraints, I admit to regularly following only around three to four bloggers. I’m not the kind of person who needs an array of people to cheer me up. If something in my life works well, I tend to stick with it until the end of time. Same goes for food, jobs, friendships, hobbies, relationships, etc. The fewer the choices, the better for me. Why am I always guilt-stricken when I receive a Like from a co-blogger? For the reason that my present state of affairs can’t allow me to reciprocate or accommodate them all. Shame on me. I do hope to add more blogs in my Follow list as soon as more elements in my lifestyle permit me to.

There remain quite a few things I wish to write here. I’ve chickened out for some time because I’ve come to feel more shy. The fact that I am no angel, committed heavy mistakes in my past, and my life hasn’t been that phenomenal, I worried about what my fellow bloggers might think. It’s a cop out I know. I need to do what I’ve set out to do.

I remain in awe of this blogging world we hope to inhabit for eternity. But it seems both my heart and mind have a lot to learn still.

The woman you see and know here and whose words you read on the pages of this site is no different from the woman that I am at my side of the globe. If ever you find the fancy to offer a handshake, my sole request could only be: Do it warmly; make it every bit as true as the loyalty and friendship I’m willing to extend – in all sincerity. I won’t ask or need anything else from you, my fellow bloggers.

Just please don’t let me settle for less.


High school Days Gone By

In keeping with my mission to put on record some of my life events here in hopes that someday my son would want to know what her mother was like in her younger years, I’ve decided to push through with this post about my early teenage life, specifically my high school days in an all-girl Catholic school. Nothing spectacular took place during that period. I was just your average student, girl next door type. I never kept a diary so I’ll just state some facts I still remember from that era randomly.

Me in the red circle. Funny that we never got the chance to use the swimming pool in my four years there.

Things I loved: Beautiful, well-kept gardens (which we weren’t allowed to walk into), Art class, kind and amiable teachers, Music class, Drama club, our well-stocked library, lionhearted girls, colorful posters of teen heartthrobs like Shaun Cassidy, Parker Stevenson, etc., Mills & Boon love story pocketbooks, P.E. activities.

Things I Hated: writing term papers, girl to girl cattiness, terror teachers, daily morning flag ceremony, everyday mass, Bible study, loud motor-mouthed classmates who simply crave attention.

– I sometimes “cut classes” because the class was too boring. I’d run to the nearest huge grocery store beside our school and spend an hour or two there. I can’t remember now how I was able to do that despite the security guards stationed at the front gates.

– I was guilty of daydreaming for hundreds of hours in total during classes where the teacher would discuss lessons that were of no interest to me. Subjects in particular: Religion, Chemistry, Statistics, Trigonometry.

– I enjoyed my Physical Education activities and did well at track & field and basketball. Ditto for our C.A.T. activities that had us marching like soldiers dressed in dark green polos and pants.

– It still baffles me why we had to call our every teacher “Miss,” not mam or madam.

– I’d wake up very early to be able to attend the 5:30 a.m. mass intended for the nuns of our school. Their soulful singing of hymns had been a divine way to start my day. Which also meant I often attended mass twice a day. The other one was the compulsory 11 am mass before lunchtime. With that in mind, I sometimes wonder why I didn’t join the nunnery.

– Like most exclusive for girls’ schools, girl to girl relationship had been prevalent. I remember having witnessed a “couple” of schoolmates who French kissed in full view of the class. They did it proudly probably thinking it was a sweet thing to do. I thought it was  “Yucky.” I mean, couldn’t have they done it somewhere more private? I never imagined myself kissing a girl. How is that different from kissing myself in the mirror? Or maybe I just liked boys a lot better. Did I ever wonder what these young female “lovers” do behind closed doors? You bet I did. I didn’t have much idea at that time. But honestly, I wasn’t that interested.

– By the way, I only got to know about the birds and the bees when I reached the end of my freshman year. A classmate pal asked me if I knew how girls get pregnant. My answer: when a boy put his arm around her. (That’s what my mother told me and I believed her!) So my friend laughed at me hysterically and told all our other friends about my naivety. I can’t remember who actually enlightened me with the facts. After learning the truth though, I felt sorry for all my boy playmates whom I kicked hard earlier when they playfully tried to put their arms around me.

– My friends were fond of talking with to me because I wasn’t much of a talker and would just listen to them. Besides, whenever something they said really tickled my funny bone, I’d giggle non-stop.

– Some girls could be silly funny. “Your hair looks shiny and smooth. Do you use any special type of oil for it?” was my casual question to a classmate one day. “Yeah, cooking oil.” was her deadpan answer. Crazy conversation like that. Joke stories about nuns and priests had been passed around a lot too. But I’ll stop right here as my son is a lot more religious than me.

– I’ve got to admit boys are a hundred times funnier than girls though. My brother is probably one of the funniest people in the world. I would often laugh myself to tears with his ad-libs. It puzzles me where he could have gotten his brand of humor as both my parents aren’t the hilarious kind.

– Trying out for the Glee club, I passed the vocal and dance auditions held by the music teachers, only to be eliminated days after by the “cool girls” (longtime members) who acted as the final judges. I was utterly disappointed. They probably thought I wasn’t fashionable or popular enough to become part of their club.

– I wrote a few cheesy poems that got published in our school paper. My real purpose then was to see my name in print. That’s all. On the whole, it made me proud and happy.

– The library was my most favorite place inside the school. I wish I could say I spent time reading the classics there. I didn’t. Instead, when I dropped by after class, I’d start pulling out colorful books on geography and leafed through breathtaking shots of skies and sceneries.

– I envied those girls who could talk back to the nuns and terror teachers. We called them “girls with balls.”

– I didn’t like “interaction” parties arranged by my schoolmates. Some of the girls acted weird around boys.

– During sophomore year, a boy who was my best friend’s brother came to like me but I couldn’t like him because he wasn’t movie star handsome. (Yes, I was that shallow. I hate myself now) Without my knowledge, he tried to do my term paper by actually handwriting it. Total: 50 beautifully handwritten pages. There was no computer yet and I believe the boy didn’t have a typewriter then. I returned the papers to him because I had already started typing mine. Thinking about it now, that had been really nice of him. Now you have an idea why I was sentenced by the heavens to eternal singlehood on earth. I was a bad girl. 🙂

I was a junior student during my elder sister’s highschool graduation.(me on the right)

The Delight of Being “One of the Boys”

Having a relationship with a man can be emotionally draining for me. I have often struggled with the notion that the presence of a man in my life in a romantic sense isn’t worth it at all if he can’t make me happy. I guess I’m such a dreamer when it comes to love. I’ve been told recently that the kind of love we dream of is increasingly impossible to find especially as one gets older. Sad but true. I can be ok with that though. I resolve I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life than compromise my ideals. But I’ll expound on that next time in another post. Meanwhile, what I want to express here is the kind of pleasure I get in having men as simply “buddies.” Just plain, good ole buddies. Because men are such interesting species despite their frailties and uh, “wickedness.”  I do like men but they can occasionally or often be a “pain in the ass.” Having one as a boyfriend most probably would just give me trouble than pure bliss. So why don’t I just enjoy them as mere pals or chums? I must be a whiz gal to come up with that, right?

I’ve always enjoyed the company of the opposite gender. Sure I’ve had rotten experiences with a few of them in the romance department, but that doesn’t dismay me in continuing to build or nurture friendships with them. They can be really nice and delightful as comrades. It’s always been a pleasure having them around in my life. A lot of laughter and joy has ensued in my life because these particular breed of humans are humorous, fun and breezy to be with. They lack the pettiness that you usually find in female friends. And I like the fact that in contrast to women, men will never tire you of empty verbiage (unless of course the man is gay). They are not that fond too of non-stop talking. Just like me. Yours truly is usually quiet and reserved.

If you truly want to enjoy them as the opposite gender, you have to do away with mushy emotions and deal with them in a direct, casual manner. You don’t need to understand them perfectly well if you just want to be pals with them. They’re very simple to deal with. They can be easy to please. They may get impatient though when they have to conduct themselves in shades of gray, so their choices must be strictly limited to black and white. That is, if you don’t want them to become bona fide pricks. I swear they’ll thank you dearly if you could go straight to the point when you talk to them. Any attempt for a sappy exchange is a waste of time. Likewise, sharing of soulful sentiments can be a herculean task. The downside with having them as friends is the frustration you’ll get by the shallowness of your communication with each other. They can’t be arsed to want to talk about deep feelings, except if they’re in danger of getting dumped in their jobs. In case you don’t know, only one thing can rightfully obsess them.  And that is their job or work.

I guess John Gray got it so right in telling that Men are from Mars, Women from Venus. Men and women seem to have come from different planets indeed. No need to even mention the asteroids and other heavenly bodies that may get in between. 🙂

In my case, I may not fully comprehend their behavior and actions but I pretty much have an idea what goes on in a man’s psyche. I can switch my mode of thinking to their level once I start hanging around or dealing with them. Most men I’ve dealt and transacted with at work have sort of complimented me on how I could be comfortable in their presence. Ehem. I believe I had a lot of practice in my younger years. I wasn’t the flowery, delicate kind of girl then. I raced around, played basketball, climbed trees, participated in other sports, and chased dragonflies with the other boys in the neighborhood. Most of the best friends I had from grade school to university were male. When I was young, my brother and I were the best of pals, which goes to say he became my favorite sibling. And as you may all know by now, my father is my favorite parent as he figures heavily in some of my posts here.

Having them as buddies and having them as lovers are totally distinct. Given my current status, do they sometimes misinterpret my friendliness and harbor the idea I’d be willing to hook up with them? Of course they do. I believe all men welcome those thoughts in the company of their female close friends. But once I’ve managed to enlighten them with the truth subtly, they eventually get the message that their companionship and goodwill are the only things I need from them.

Last year, only three male teachers were left for permanency status in our school (the rest are all female). A gay man in his late 30s, a married man in his mid 30s and a straight guy in his mid- 20s who’s been engaged to his girlfriend for years. So I felt safe when I penetrated my way into their exclusive club to become a fellow camaraderie. You see, I have this ability to be quite friendly if I choose to. It didn’t take long before I totally blended and was considered to be “one of the guys.” For several months, it had been great to be part of the group. Hanging around during break time, having lunch together, shooting the breeze about plenty of matters in our lives. And you can just imagine the things I heard when they talked about women. When I’m with them, I don’t expect them to treat me any differently. I’m older than these male colleagues of mine but delightfully, they tend to forget that when we’re having a conversation or kidding around.

As expected, most good things never last. Alas, late last year the “straight” guy had to quit teaching for the greener pastures of a call center job. It wouldn’t be fun anymore without him so we sort of disbanded. Things couldn’t be the same without our “youngest brother.”

We still keep in touch once in a while and are still friendly toward one another. Yet I’ve come to miss those times every now and then. It’s such a pleasure having men as friends. That much will always be true for me.

Caught Up in the Rapture

There’s a certain someone who’s making me happy these days. It’s not that I suddenly found myself in a relationship or something. No, it’s not like that at all. I’m not even sure I can consider this a romantic feeling. But yeah, I like the guy (Of course, he’s a male). And I intend to keep his identity a well-guarded secret. I hope none of the people I see everyday would manage to sneak in this particular entry as they might be able to get an inkling as to who the person could be. How did it happen in the first place?  Well, recent events had me cornered in an emotional checkmate that left me a little dazed. I managed to recover alright but found myself already smitten. Too late..

I’ll just say that he’s funny, smart, considerate and beautiful. Nonetheless, I can tell he’s a bit of a bad boy. (Yeah right, here I go again. I’m totally hopeless. Tsk tsk..) And oh, I almost forgot, he’s urm, younger (Now please, don’t give me that look. I’ve still got a teen-age heart, remember?). I just like him. Well, as in Like with a capital L. Nothing more than that.  I intend not to let him know about it, don’t worry. I’d really rather not. Otherwise, it’s gonna be a bad road to travel. That I’m certain of.

At this point in my life, I try to stay away from emotional complications. I know myself well enough. I can be a mess when it comes to the affairs of the heart. The annals of my romantic history would be able to prove that.

Anyway, I’m simply keeping him in my heart.. And that’s all for now..

What else have I been up to lately?

I’m still drooling over Chris Hemsworth. The hottie who played Thor in the movie of the same title. Love, love his face, and his voice… Let’s not even get into the body, okay?

I read a certain book that swept me off my feet. It’s titled “Singular Existence” by Leslie Talbot. It’s one of the funniest books I’ve ever read which happens to target my demographic as a single woman in her ah, “late thirties.” She’s completely hilarious with her biting wit and shrewd commentaries. I carry the book everywhere I go nowadays, reading it again and again. I recommend it to every single lady, young or old.  Be prepared though to be blown away by her radical views about certain issues that plague the realm of Singlehood.

My son is back in school after a two-month vacation. Now I miss having to come back home from work, turning in the key to open the door and see him just there, in all his splendid adorability. Pardon me, he’s still my baby after all.

I’ve also been contemplating on finally ending my (close?) friendship with one of my colleagues at school. We have very little in common. We’ve got opposing points of view on several matters. Frankly, I’m just way smarter than him (it’s true, it’s true). And our friendship couldn’t withstand the crisis it had undergone a few months back. I felt then that my friendship had been totally taken for granted. I used to think I’d miss having him around as my bestfriend. Surprisingly, I don’t miss him at all now. I’m actually grateful for the distance between us these days. Things do change.

I’ll leave you with a message that I just posted on my FB wallpost a few minutes ago. It’s meant to be dedicated to the current apple of my eye. Here goes:

Things have surprisingly come to a full circle.

As you’ve done your part on what you think is right for you.

I guess it’s better to take matters one day at a time.

Which leaves me too with no excuse not to do my best for you, once more..

Welcome back.

< Yup, yours truly is happily smitten and inspired.> (Pathetic huh?)