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.

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)

August Babe Musings

Heavy rains have finally come to an end. Not exactly a fan of the sun, I’m relieved it has come up today to say hi to my land.

This past two weeks I lived through the most rain our city capital has seen in the last 20 years. You know that when it rains here, it jams. Automatically. That’s just the way it is. So you can imagine the staggering cost the recent non-stop monsoon has inflicted upon us.

What else could possibly be scary to me other than the massive flooding? Lightning bolts and thunderstorms. Especially when I’m outside walking on the street. Every flash that strikes makes me feel like it had missed me by just a few feet. Really. The Gods certainly have found a way to castigate me for my past misdemeanors.

Work had been cancelled last Tuesday due to the subsequent deluge. I decided to stay away from the TV to avoid the 24/7 play by play description of the calamity taking place which could possibly erode my spirits. Instead, I watched a couple of my favorite movies. “My Best Friend’s Wedding” is definitely one of the films I don’t mind watching again. Charmingly sappy and cute. “Spiderman 2” is another, what with (Kirsten Dunst) Mary Jane’s version of the runaway bride at the end of the movie, her face blissful in love as she races down the street in her long white gown, escaping from her wedding ceremony so she could surrender into the arms of her true love Spiderguy Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire). Now that’s what I call pretty romantic.

By the way, dear mister, long gazing out the window can be an enchantingly poetic scene I believe. And given the right blend, melodrama can be stunning.

So are lots of tight embraces and fervent kisses. Definitely sweet.

Ok, I’m probably all feelings with no choice but to revel with who and what I am. I am a woman, demmit.  🙂

That’s fancy talking here once more.

Sometimes I feel guilty of slamming words out in the ether only to wish I could take them back afterwards. Initially I figured they won’t probably stick anywhere because we are essentially in a vortex of virtual reality here. If there’s a hard truth I’ve learned in this cyber planet we share, it’s that whatever’s been written can only be taken for its face value. But who am I kidding?

Me and my silly mouth.. or rather my reckless fingers for having typed something rash can be a trouble in the making.

Under no circumstances am I trying to make things happen for profession of such silly nothings, believe me. My general reputation for reticence and passivity can attest to that. Sometimes, I am merely steeped in the sensation and beauty of the moment. I may sit giddily with my heart throbbing on my sleeves, my eyes probably twinkling brighter than the stars above.. Or I can forever be under a spell of a lovely, century-old locket I’m holding which has the power to transport me back in time.

bunch of dainty, nice smelling flowers left in our ladies’ room the other day

My dealings here have been quite limited I admit. It’s never been my style though to invite people into my life and then proceed to show them I hardly have time to accommodate them in my schedule. I certainly don’t get it when someone does that to me. It’s so easy to tell when the person does things with me half-heartedly.

So my resolution: I will only handle what I can afford to. No biting more than I can chew.

And I still hope that in the end, things get to round up as a blessing in the skies. I mean, blessing in disguise. (Sheesh, what made me say that?!)

Shucks! Reality sucks! 🙂

Perhaps I deserve some reprimand for spending too much time with the computer again. Darn #%@! I really do like it here. Nothing relaxes me better than surfing, opening other people’s sites and reading, until my eyes have had enough and my bed starts its siren call luring me to surrender to it. I guess I’d better do something else to wean myself away from my beloved netbook. Like take my cat out for a walk. Or visit my loquacious Aunt Ida who lives in the other side of the town. Or go out try drinking the night away with my beer-loving students.

Nah. I think I’ll simply settle with my cute feline friend that adores me come rain or shine.

C’mon, dear Kitty, let’s go out for a walk.

 

July Babe Rhetoric (Coming Up Against a Brick Wall)

The rains have kept on coming. The rains that have never failed to mesmerize me seem to be taking up residence on my side of the globe. Still, these are the raindrops that hold promise to heal and cleanse the afflictions of my soul.

As usual, I can’t let go of this month without unloading here some stuff I’ve been lugging around. Hence, my July Babe Musings, or rather my July Babe Rhetoric.

I erased another of my oldest post again after finding out there’s one who managed to excavate the oldest remaining entry that features a beach photo with my totally unmade up face, together with my so-so bucket list. It isn’t a good idea. Deleting post archives I mean. But I got self-conscious considering that my writing efforts then had been quite minimal too. In all honesty, I get this urge every now and then to eradicate all of my prior posts.

It’s getting uncomfortable to have to watch what I say here. There’s a big difference between knowing who your readers could be and writing with faceless unidentified readers in the back of your mind. Because there are days when I simply want to blurt “Oh f*#k!” instead of “Oh great!”

Yes Scarlet, it gets tiring to be the proverbial good girl all your life.

Perhaps it’s time for a confession once again. When I try to ponder and see things more clearly, I can’t help but realize how many areas in my life are actually unmanageable. Or aren’t working well. There’s been a leak on the ceiling again, my teenee apartment badly needs some spring cleaning, I’ve neglected applying eye cream for weeks now, the mirror keeps reminding me how time can ravage all things corporeal, I don’t visit my ailing father that often, I can’t spend quality time with my child as often as I want to, etc. Sometimes it makes me wonder if I’ve been spreading myself too thin. And have I practically let the blogosphere eat away a sizable chunk of my time? Aaw, that’s excruciating to answer in light of the fact this special sphere has served me well as a welcome, intermittent release from my reality.

So what do I do?

Well, this is how I sail my ship to escape getting sucked into an abyss of the giant whirlpool. For the most part, I refuse to acknowledge the things that might assist on pulling me down. I mean matters that are beyond my control I do my best not to dwell on. It could have been a key element to my survival. It’s good that my job and other things mundane have been keeping me grounded for quite some time now. They’ve become a crucial force that shoves me to continue putting my one foot in front of the other.

Should I therefore strengthen the tenets that are meant to be held dear? I am not sure. The thing is, I’m just as uncertain and apprehensive of the present and the future as everybody else. I’ve still no possession of any magic formula for keeping afloat. Even with all the things I’ve learned, there are days when all I ever want is to curl up in bed, close my eyes, and sleep with the rays in the light of day.

People around me have been wondering if I’ve been keeping them away at arm’s length. It could have been a misconception on their part or they might be right to a certain point. Maybe I’m simply trying to home in on the things left that I want to do with my life. My time on this planet is getting shorter. I’m not a very sociable person as well. I tend to feel lonely in a large group. I thrive better in smaller groups. But the few people who managed to get close I have clutched dearly inside me. Sometimes to a fault.

My thoughts can’t help but fall hostage to my emotions. Passion has this power to consume my whole being, with a dash of drama magnifying on its own tailing behind. How many times have I released my heart out into the wild only for it to seek the path of least resistance to unmitigated rupture? How many times have I tempted fate by giving this heart away? What do I do when mellow sensibility refuses to go hand in hand with a reckless spirit? Call me quixotic, call me impetuous. I could have been misconstrued and deemed impractical. Or illogical even. Needless to say, I could act only within the vicinities where my affections reside. Never with an ax to grind.

People take for granted the opportunity to be able to float in the air of freedom, where everything feels light. A respectable degree of liberty from the leash of sentimental bonds can be soothing. I have always longed for that. Oftentimes I simply want to take on the spirit and essence of the quiet. Nothing to ruffle the calm.. in between states of mind..

But just when I think I’m ready to leap and swim my way in the sea of serenity, something will come up from behind to snatch me from my stance. Do they know I have been waiting for this shot in tranquility for a long time?

My autonomous veneer has served as a smokescreen for my bashful soul. What people don’t know about me is I crumble easily.., and in silence.., coz I’m such a baby when it comes to pain. Venturing into the meadows of uncertainty could as well only tighten the tethers that bind me to heartache. How can I possibly take back any scintilla of power that gets hurled out the window after my feelings have compelled me to follow their commands? How can I extricate myself sooner from the shackles of wretched emotions?

“How can I trust love again and again when most of what I’ve learned of it has only ever hurt me?” A rhetorical question that brings forth a cemented wisdom from one of my most favorite bloggers. He has always known how his sometimes unruly mind can generate words of beauty like sprinkles from the sky. His every sparkling word I yearn to catch with my bare hands. My brain which at times is in danger of short circuiting when I try to grasp out-of-this-world rhetoric rolling down the pages of his site. Nevertheless, he renders me breathless.. Or I just literally fall off my chair. Every time. In a league of his own, he could be one of the best kept secrets within the confines of WP. I hope he never gets to be Freshly Pressed. Because I don’t want to have to jostle my way to a crowd just to click Like on his post or make a comment. I know, I know. That’s a bit selfish on my part. But a touch of exclusivity has never lost its appeal to me.

And then, there is this other fellow.. This one who brightens me up with his grace, pragmatic intelligence and wit. I wonder if I’ve become a bundle of contradiction here once again. But oh, how I lie in glory with the feeling at times..

What do I do when I’m currently mooning over someone who also happens to be breaking my heart?

Go with the flow of inspiration I was once told.

So,

To my beloved Muse, You who helped me carve out my own truth. For you who could see past the secrets of my soul. In ether or on earth, my thoughts can only fly out to where you are..

 

Attachment and The Sentimental Fool That I Am

I stand for the belief that any form of love should feel breezy,

like the cool winds of a calm December morning..

because love isn’t meant to cause torment or any kind of struggle.

And if I fail to reap the wonder and ease it’s supposed to bring,

then it’ll remain as an unfulfilled longing

I’m willing to let go for all eternity..                 –January marj 2012

 

There goes another brief missive that I posted on my FB wall this weekend. These lines naturally came up to me in a span of forty five minutes while at work a couple of days ago, although I do have an idea now what moved me to write this topic. Definitely a few certain some ones who have recently figured on my mind..

You may already know this about me. Saying goodbye sucks. I even get attached to things which make purging my stuff an arduous and agonizing task.

My colleagues have repeatedly advised me against getting attached to anything, or rather anyone. They could sense it. Letting go has always been difficult for a sentimental fool that I am. Why do you think becoming a cold-hearted Juliet is one of my aspirations this year?

Recent events have me pondering why I shouldn’t open myself up so as not to risk becoming vulnerable to any more “unnecessary” pain. As it’s such a sure thing for a heartbreak coming down the pike, don’t you think?

For the times when I’ve read how attachment has become one of the major causes of human suffering, this question has hounded me for the longest period. Is it possible to stay away from circumstances that will have me crying buckets of tears caused by emotional threads I sometimes inadvertently weave?

And so it got me remembering the words written by my all-time favorite role model Helen Gurley Brown, “Why couldn’t you just have enjoyed the headiness of it all without being so federal case out of your brain about the whole thing?

You couldn’t. You never can, and you must never apologize to yourself for the one you’ve given all that passion to. It could only be that way at that special time, and if you cared, you cared..”

Very well said.

Out with the Old, In with the New – What 2012 Holds for Me (part 2)

And so 2011 is closing down as one of my loveliest years ever, a time span I consider both rough and smooth-sailing in most regards.

Once again, I might have earned a few emotional scars from certain heartbreaks, job missteps, and quite recently, a tragic loss I wish would leave my memory for good.

Yet it all comes down to the wonderful reality that I’m still around, hoping that 2012 can now welcome me with open arms..

This was exactly my parting missive on my FB wallpost on New Year’s Eve of last year. I consider it as my closure for the definitive year that has seen me through a series of ups and downs. I felt like there were events I could gladly take with me at the dawn of 2012, e.g., a certain Muse (whatever it is) that crawled its way to my writing has been delightful, as well as the rest of the swell stuff that have made my stay on this planet worthwhile and enjoyable. Yet there are also certain episodes of 2011 I want to get away from as far as I can. Specifically an unspeakable heartache caused by the unexpected loss of a beloved pet and the guilt I’ve felt for not having spent enough time with it before its demise, and all because I was absorbed in something or rather someone that was not even worth my attention. I wonder, how can someone get over an unfortunate circumstance such as this? Others might see me as being too sentimental. I don’t know.. Letting go has always been painful for me. I am really hurting..

I do hope 2012 is going to be another fabulous year as I’ve no plan of slowing down yet. Sometimes though, my body has a way of reminding me that things aren’t the same anymore. Ah aging, I didn’t know it would come so soon.

I often wonder if the gift of years which endowed me with colorful experiences has made me a better person at all. And the more important question, do I know myself much better now after everything I’ve been through? Honestly, I still can’t provide anyone, even myself with a categorical answer.

Just ruminating..

Well, there’s one thing I can say with certainty. I am earnestly shooting for another year of splendor which, they say, will be but a moment in the sun.

We’ll see..

What 2012 Holds For Me

According to my site stats, “What 2011 Holds For Me” was one of my most popular posts. I don’t exactly understand why because it simply stated my fresh hopes for that period and they are no different from the list of most people’s. So I’ll make a go of it again to see if I get lucky once more with this one.

To start things in jest, I’ll share with you my tentative New Year’s Resolutions I posted on my FB wall a couple of months ago. Most of my friends found it amusing and some even took it for real (Sheesh, where’s their sense of humor?.. ).

 Here they are:

1.  lose weight and be as “body gorgeous” as Jennifer Aniston.
2. remind myself over&over, “I ain’t a girl anymore.., I ain’t a girl anymore..” Well yeah, I sort of keep on forgetting that I’m not a teen-ager anymore. I still get crushes and blush like crazy. And I guess I better start dressing up like Susan Boyle or my great Aunt Ida. (Psst.. don’t tell, but yes I still dress young)
3. stop writing cheesy love poems (erm..okay, so I do write them.. sometimes..).
4. never EVER take a look at good-looking men again. They’re just “Trouble.”  Take note of the capital T (I can definitely blog about this one for hours.. tirelessly)
5. start buying lottery tickets so if I won, I could date Chris Hemsworth, or Josh Duhamel (Damn, why are all the best-looking guys already married?).
6. finally realize all of the above are IMPOSSIBLE to carry out so I’ll just DELETE this whole list and go buy myself some choco cookies and ice cream.

So you think that’s funny huh! No?

Anyway let’s get serious now. On to my real resolutions that I’m sure will bore you to tears. And they aren’t even different to my last year’s at all!

But I’m making a list still, hoping that this time I’ll be able to accomplish at least two-thirds of it. Here they are: 

1.   Eat less. I should! And I must!

2.   Exercise at least 30 minutes a day. I should! And I must!

3.  Be cold-hearted when it comes to the affairs of the, of course, heart. Oh men, what have you done to me?

4.  Be appreciative of the people and things I still have. My health, my son, my job, my family, my shelter, my ability to enjoy life, my love for reading, writing, and English. I guess I’m really one lucky gal.

5.  Write about anything at least once a week. Anything. Ideas often slip out of my mind too quickly so I’ll try to carry a small notebook along with me wherever I go.

6.  Read something at least once a day. Something worthwhile I hope.

See, my list is that simple. Before wrapping this up, I took a look at my last year’s entry with the same title. Yep, my resolutions are pretty much the same although my prose then was much better. Hmm, please don’t ask me why.

As time progresses, the more I realize how less of it is being allotted to me. I ain’t getting any younger. True. Which means I am running out of time. Fast. Therefore, I must double my efforts to make the most of my remaining years. So Heaven help me..

Happy New Year to all!

GIMME THAT HALF A BILLION PESOS!

I’ve neglected this blog for a couple of weeks due to reasons I can’t exactly reveal here. My point is, I got tied up at work and my hands were full (with work, of course). But I missed rambling in here so I’m just delighted to be back.

Actually, I got preoccupied with something trivial to my mundane existence but nevertheless crucial to my imaginary world. You see, here in my country, the lottery pot prize has gone up to more than 600 million pesos and it’s like everybody is going gaga over winning it. I know I know, I’ve better chances of getting struck by lightning thrice than getting all the numbers right in this 6/55 lotto game. But I’m a dreamer.. just like the millions of other filipinos who fall in line to buy their lottery tickets everyday of their lives. We’re all buying the dream. Frolicking in dreamland where life is so much easier is a national pastime in our land because it’s totally free (except for the lottery ticket). Not to mention our only hope.

Sometimes it got me thinking, I’m not really a materialistic person (indeed!), so how would I spend all that money if I ever won it? Hmm.. Of course, the first thing that comes to my mind is buy myself a nice, medium-sized house to shelter me and my son and my cat. Wow, I would like that. Because that would mean my son will finally have his own room to put all his stuff in, and my cat “snowy” can stay outside of the house where she can have her own space to roam and some exclusive space to pee and poo. And she’d probably also stop following me around begging for attention and food (not necessarily in that order). I’d really like that.

What would I do with the rest of the money? Well, if I will stay alive to enjoy it (as you know, having that much money in this country could cost you your life like what happened to a few jackpot winners here), I’m gonna buy myself umm, oh yeah, (drumroll please), I’m gonna buy myself some LOVE.

Oh please, stop giving me that look. And why not?  If rich famous women could get themselves a boytoy, I’d be more than happy to join them. But this time I’m gonna raise the bar much higher in choosing my uhm, boytoy. I’d want him tall, with good built, quite handsome, very very attractive, and so articulate in english. Oh, and he should be good at “many other things” as well..he he he..

Did I say I’m gonna buy myself love, or something else really? Now that got me confused..

Anyway, I don’t mind getting my hands on that half a billion pesos. It’s probably my only chance to rent Bavid Beckham or James Yap or Dingdong Dantes for a couple of nights.

But I better make sure lightning doesn’t strike me first.