Stuff that I am made of…

Just one more day and it’s the end for me.
Somehow, I try to find any kind of emotion left for all the tragedy and agony I’ve experienced this past week, and the funny thing is I don’t feel anything anymore.

I guess I’ve always been the type of person who hates dwelling on the negative. As much as possible, I try to forget what I’ve been through, I am always in a hurry to move forward. Though you can bet I hold grudges and I don’t forget the people who made my life miserable. It’s one of the negative things about me–I don’t easily forgive and I tend to plan my revenge. That’s why The Hubby never failed to remind me that I have been purrrrrty blessed in my short life, and that I shouldn’t spend it holding grudges. Yep, The Grudge — that’s me 🙂

But in spite my shortcomings, I think it’s kinda safe to say that I am made of a lot of things. Not just black or white; sugar or spice; love or hate — I think revel in being the ball of complications that I am…

I. …I am someone that is (thankfully) raised well by my parents
I was born to middle middle-class parents who had to work in order to earn an honest living. I was not schooled in the top 4 universities in the Philippines, but I am a product of a state University. For everything that I buy, I had to work hard to achieve it. In short, I am not rich, I am not famous — but am lucky to possess the breeding that can be equated with proper upbringing.

During my time in the middle of the tempest last week, I had all the reasons to walk away and give the company THE finger. After all–in all intents and purposes–I have nothing to lose. I have an amazing job waiting for me, and I can get by even without the back pay (thanks to a Hubby who pledged support, and parents that are willing to lend me a quick buck). But I decided to swallow my pride and just let it be. I never once answered back or stooped to the level of my tormentors. I had a quick prayer for each time I was faced with harsh words and harsher treatment. As Bitchy C puts it, “It took a lot of courage to choose to take the high road…” and it did. And even till now, I am thankful cos it made me a lot stronger than I thought I was…

“…Sick of all this inertia
Won’t you mend me?

Lover, can you help me?
I’m a child lost in the woods
A black heart pollutes me
And I think

You’re a mountain that I’d like to climb
Not to conquer, but to share in the view

Pulled by a false inertia
Pushed out by circumstance
Pistol firing at my feet
That’s coercing me to dance…”

II. “Haaaaaaaay, Lani…”
That’s what actually Saintly J said (twice) while we were feeling posh and smug, buried chest deep in a late snack of vegetarian crepe (for J), plus a dish of eggs, bacon and crepe for me and Bitchy C (I can’t remember the names cos they were spelled in French). We were at Cafe Breton, celebrating the near-death of my career as a Senior PR Consultant for the Firm.

The food was good, the company was amazing (albeit foul-mouthed):

Bitchy C and I shared this amazing meal -- please don't ask me what it was. It was written in French

vegetarian crepe containing tomatoes, mushroom, tuna and cheese

We were discussing J’s apparent predilection for young, nubile females (unconfirmed — I value my life and I don’t want to die by J’s “eskrima-ing hands” and the apparent happy life waiting for me and Bitchy C away from the tempest that is the former company. We were, as usual, loud, uncouth and hungry — shoveling mouthfuls of food while we goad, tease, harass the poor J.

That’s one thing I am adorably made of: the capacity to meet people and fall head-over-heels-in-like with them. J, Bitchy S, Conservative A, Tattooed L — these were the people I fiercely value at the company-that-must-not-be-named. I was not lucky to find a career in public relations, but I was lucky to find people who accepted me: grammatical errors and all. I am happy and okay with that.


III. Apparently, I was (effing) dressed like Barbie: The travails of being fashion-hungry, and a blondie wannabe

I went to work today, dressed like this:

YES, I am wearing the exact same thing earlier: plaid skirt (pink and brown combo), black forever 21 shirt and heavy studded boots

Apparently, I was FUCKING dressed like plaid-wearing Barbie. I kid you not, I didn’t took pictures cos my face was too harassed to merit public viewing. I was wearing my thrifted plaid skirt (bought for 50 bucks!), my black blouse from Forever 21 and the heavy studded boots I’ve taken to wearing ANYeffingWHERE. Might go out with a bang, I figured…then fast forward at 12MN, I search the net and find Barbie wearing the exact same shit I wore. My fashion peg, ladies and gentlemen, is a doll. Gives you an idea on my maturity quotient.

Everyday, here are the two things that are constant with my life (and outfit):

my black polkadot bag (from Bench) and the studded and chained black boots

The black bag has been through hell and back and still sturdy. The boots is perfect for long walks and for giving the extra “attitude”.

Then, I had the brilliant idea to redo and fix my roots (they are now showing). I’d love to look like BOA:

I love you, Boa's hair!!!!

If only I’d start looking more like a human being (with the high cheekbones), and less like a chipmunk., my life will be easier.

One thought on “Stuff that I am made of…

  1. hahaha! I love you Barbie Peg!!! Spending time with you guys is PRICELESS!!!!! Just because we don’t work in the same company doesn’t mean it stops there….Let’s make time for each other…. Love you babe!!!

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