Everything Under The Tropical Sun

Shamelessly Sassy is one of the blogs I follow. I love her quirky humor. It’s so inspiring to watch her find hilarious situations on a usually daily basis. It takes a witty and good-natured person to do that. I subscribed to her RSS feed just so I don’t miss an “episode” (her blog always felt like a comedy sitcom to me).

You can just imagine my surprise for the first time to read her post about how she didn’t like blogging so much anymore. Here I was thinking that she enjoyed her writing so much because it reflected on the tone of her posts. In her post, Writer’s Block: Say it Ain’t So, she writes about how her blog felt more like a job and how it has gotten to the point when she didn’t have time to even visit other blog sites because of all the emails she had to reply to.

I feel for you, Shamelessly Sassy. I love my blog. It’s like some part of me will die if I stop doing this. This has been a refuge and a source of happiness I can’t seem to quantify. Thank you for sharing your post. Your blog is a success because of YOU and if you change who you are just to accommodate a few, you’ll find that your blog wouldn’t be YOU anymore. I read because of you. I hardly comment, though. I think you’d rather know that I read your blog rather than what I thought. There’s enough people doing that already. And besides, don’t you think that the simple fact that I do read your posts says it all?

So I say, to hell with all of them. You are your own person and you should follow what’s best for you. I’ll still read your blog no matter what happens. Whether you say “Ferrari” or fuck. It’s all the same to me. I’m sure there are others out there who think the same. Keep at it, Shamelessly Sassy, my life would be so boring without you and your blog.

Since we don’t have kids yet and we’re far away from getting pregnant… My husband is a constant topic and inspiration in this blog. He often complains that I bash him a lot. I don’t right? Not too much anyway? (Hehehe.) How I wish I could be writing a travel blog containing all the exotic places we’ve been to. I live in the real world. Maybe someday. Who knows? So my dear husband, I’m sorry but this is another post about you. Live with it.

My husband had the same nightmare two nights in a row. Well, it was not exactly the same but the theme was similar: CHEATING. Yep, he dreamt that I was cheating on him.

In his first nightmare, I had the “decency” to ask him for permission to date around… AND he gave me his blessing. Smart. Whatever possessed him to agree (even in his nightmare) I wouldn’t know. I guess he has this if-you-don’t-want-me-then-i-don’t-want-you thing about him. Such a proud, proud man. But still, right? Even he admits that he doesn’t understand why he actually gave me permission to date around.

In his second nightmare, he caught me in the act (though he claims he doesn’t know who the guy or that he didn’t have a face) and I denied everything. It was like a bad Shaggy video. He kept screaming and I kept on denying (wasn’t I smart even in his sleep? LOL.).

He woke up after both nightmares in a bad mood. Good thing he didn’t take it out on me. I heard of someone who had a dream that she caught her boyfriend cheating and when she woke up, she actually fought with her boyfriend. Poor guy. He didn’t know what was coming. So hence, THANK YOU knowing the difference between the nightmare and reality. I wouldn’t know what I would’ve said or done to defend myself if he did come at me.

I have always believed that dreams and nightmares are our subconscious minds’ outlet. After silencing it during the day, it runs amok during our sleep. So in my husband’s misery, lies my happiness. He doesn’t usually verbalize how much he loves me and he HARDLY writes me… wait… since the year 2004, he’s NEVER written to me. So you can imagine my glee to know that he is indeed possessive of and fears losing me to someone else.

I wouldn’t dare do that to him… EVER. I love him too much to make him go through that kind of pain and self-doubt. I know how it feels like to be cheated on. And it’s no joke. He’s always been kind and loving and generous to me. He’s never given me reason to doubt him. He may have had a gloomy disposition those two days but I was happy and grinning from ear to ear. Some wife huh? But I did assure him that I would never make him feel that way in real life. I just hope that we’d talk about things before they get to that point.

I’ve never been a fan of American politics and never in my life have I watched the inauguration of ANY American president. That is, until last night.

I’ve seen only snippets of Obama’s race to the presidential seat but it was easy for me to turn into a fan of the man he seems to be and of what he embodies… HOPE. At a time when we are filled with uncertainty of the events to come, a time when so many desperate hearts have found their way into the lives and homes of people not just in America but the rest of the world. So many eyes, hearts and minds are tuned in to his next steps towards mending the shattered hopes of the world.

As I watched on, surprised to find myself hoping and praying with the rest of them, a big part of me wants to believe in him. Another part of me is cautious. The aftermath of the Bush administration leaves me doubtful. I am not a fan of George W. Bush. I don’t think he’s an idiot, though it may seem that he is, but I do think he’s one greedy S.O.B. Their economy has flailed mainly because he protected his own interests and pockets. At least that’s what I think.

Here comes Obama, a relatively new politician, leaving many doubtful whether he’d be able to step up and rise to the numerous challenges that await his administration. But many more hope he’d be able to deliver the things he has promised: Change.

We are affected by the ailing economy of the Americans as well as the rest of the world. Obama not only holds the lives of his own people in his hands but of the rest of the world too. A cautious hope is what I have for the American people and for myself. Hope for the Obama administration that they can pull the American economy out of the hole they’ve dug for themselves.

Imee, one of my husband’s very few girl friends (who is actually a very, very awesome person!), got married two Sundays ago. She really has a great head on her shoulders and is very witty. She’s not your run-off-the-mill clingy woman and every so often, she’d say that she feels that emotionally, she’s a guy. She forgets anniversaries, sometimes birthdays and didn’t need a blow by blow account of what her man is doing.

I’d think she’s every guy’s dream girl. A woman who wasn’t clingy, wasn’t needy, and wasn’t emotionally high maintenance. To top it all off, she’s sweet and kind. A real catch in my book. I liked her right away when I first met her. Among my husband’s girl friends, I found her to be the most down to earth.

Before she met her husband, we’d usually try to pair her up with good friends of ours. Guys we think highly of and none of those pretentious losers that run rampant nowadays. We’d be unusually protective of her and thought it was our God given right to choose and pick who she should go out with (without her knowledge, of course). Then gave up because Imee deserves to live her own life and not ours living precariously through her (it’s the married couple’s disease).

I’ve often wondered why was it that my husband and Imee never hooked up any time before we met. She seemed to have everything a guy could ever wish for and more. There was a time when he asked me what type of girl I’d be threatened to find around him, I admitted: “Someone like Imee, without a doubt. I’d feel very insecure.” He, ofcourse, had an expression like I told him to get it on with his sister and when he asked why, I told him that seeing him around gorgeous women doesn’t really bother me… but around women with substance, it makes me feel a twinge of jealousy because he gets attracted more to smart women rather than beautiful ones. He’d go for an okay looking but witty woman over someone who’s gorgeous but talks about nothing but fashion and trends any day.

Two Sundays ago, Imee got married to Joel who is a Messianic Jew. Though she was a Roman Catholic, it was a pleasant surprise to see that she agreed to get married and be recognized as a couple under Joel’s faith. It  just goes to show how happy he made her because if that was my family, they’d go berserk and force him to convert. Maybe there was some sort of persuasion on their part but nevertheless, I would think it was a feat on its own.

They both cried. Joel, while watching her walk down the aisle and Imee when they exchanged rings. It was beautiful wedding ceremony and I wish them all the best. I am grateful for their friendship and love. Happy they have each other and I pray that they’d have a very blessed marriage.

Well, I’m back at work and had a harrowing first day yesterday. But it’s still good news and I’m so happy to be back at work (I can’t believe that I just said that!). Really, I missed going to the office and the holiday just made me appreciate how good I have it. I don’t really have a complete game plan in terms of marketing and such but thankfully, we’ve had a wonderful first day. Plenty of work for the first quarter of the year. I just hope it won’t be THAT stressful (though a little stress makes life exciting).

I was hoping I would be able to do some general cleaning at home but since my dogs were shedding like crazy, I thought it pointless to do so. My OCD was ringing like crazy during the break but not enough to make me go mad. Just another item to add to my list of things to do.

Though my life is pretty much made up of chores, work stuff, and to do lists, somehow I don’t feel like I’m wasting my time.  Some part of me is fulfilled to be able to do these “mundane” acts of normalcy. I definitely appreciate the fact that I am able to give some sort of order to my life and having my husband help out makes me feel all the more appreciated. These are things that I just have to do but doesn’t really have to rule my life, right?

Work is another thing. I didn’t realize how fun it was to be surrounded by creative people. Though we don’t really joke around that much and we’re pretty responsible with our day to day to-do stuff, I feel that I finally belong to something I am particularly proud of and I guess I can safely say that I don’t have to work another day in life just because it simply doesn’t feel like it is.

This month is dedicated to the “I’m grateful for…” because I feel that in the beginning of the year, it is good to make an inventory of the things I feel blessed that I have. To help me keep a great outlook for the year that’s just begun and keep me grounded for they are not easy to come by.

I am grateful for my work. I’m happy that I’m back to my reality.

Dear Santa,

I know I said that I wanted a Macbook AL for christmas but if it’s not too late, I’d like to change my request. I went into the iStore the other day and saw the MB Al but I didn’t really like it. I’d still the prefer the white macbook over the new one.

Again, in case you don’t know what I’m talking about, I attached a photo with this letter. Thank you so much, Santa!

Love,
Jopie

I’ve always been particularly shy about this blog of mine. A lot of me goes into this and I’m not entirely sure if this is a good idea… but my life’s changed since the onset of this thing so it must be doing something very profound in my life at the moment (which by the way may be more a coincidence – but I don’t believe in them).

What started out as somewhat like a rant site for me… turned out to be just what it should be: a web log. My first few entries felt like I was writing for someone else. Reading a few of them again gives off a feeling that I was forced. I’m still trying to find my “voice” in all of this but slowly, I’m learning to love writing again. I’m not too confident with my grammar or the proper use of verbs, adjectives… that whole hullabaloo… who cares? (Stay away grammar police!)

Despite all these good things happening, I’ve still managed to shut up about this to my close friends (thanks for pointing that out, Teach!) and a flood of excuses came rushing forth when Teach confronted me about it. Made me think… it’s public (as opposed to my previous private blogs) and I did that intentionally. I am SUCH a paradox.

Anyway, after brooding over that for about a week, my husband and I bumped into a couple of friends in a bookstore: Joey and Margette. When asked what I was up to, some magic being (who amazingly turned out to be me) blurted that I have a blog… AND declared my URL.

Joey happens to be the facilitator of one of the seminars I took called Starshooters. It’s a seminar about going for your goals by breaking self-limiting habits and replacing them with ones that will help you achieve those goals. It seemed like sacrilege to hide what I’ve been really up to from him since my goal at the time is exactly what this blog embodies. I’ve learned so much from Starshooters that my husband and I still use the tools and techniques we learned from it… and that was 5 years ago! (Go check out his website: Powerspeak. I also placed a link in the sidebar)

I really couldn’t help but feel vulnerable at that time but a part me was also so proud of myself. It wasn’t until last Thursday when we met up with my husband’s cousin and his friend and his girlfriend that I was brave enough to mention this blog but not enough to actually mention the URL.

Two steps forward… one step back… *sigh*

– Note to self: You are courageous! You can’t win them all… and it’s okay. –

So here I am. Still so very happy I have this and the changes in my life may be a coincidence but I’ve always believed that once we find our true purpose, the world conspires and helps us out. I may not be SUPER courageous with marketing this to people who actually know me (my husband doesn’t count… for better or for worse we’re stuck together) but I’m getting there… I have no plans in turning back.

I had a very interesting chat with one of my best friends, Neptune last week… She said that her mom’s coming home to visit next year and that she’d talk to her husband about her going too. I didn’t really want to hope too much because it’s been over a decade since we last hung out with each other and I really miss her.

We weren’t always close. When we first met, we didn’t really hit it off right away. It wasn’t until that fateful summer of 1993 when practically everyone we knew left town to spend the summer in some fantastic place having the adventures of their lifetime. While Neptune and I stayed on in good ‘ol predictable Cebu. I didn’t have Neptune all to myself though, she joined a jungolf program at the local country club and as bored as I was, I took up tennis (*sigh… I miss my figure way back when) at the same country club.

We saw each other after her her first 9 holes of golf and after my tennis lessons. That was our daytime routine that summer. What did we do you ask? We just talked… and talked… and talked. She’s such a clever and witty woman even back then when we both didn’t know any better. She’s funny and there were no boring moments. EVER. Come to think of it, I can’t really remember how we were able to entertain ourselves that summer but somehow we did because to this day, I still remember that it was one of the best summers of my life.

We’d go out at night… go to this popular (and the only) dance club in Cebu. We really weren’t drinkers at the time but we loooved to dance! It didn’t matter if it was just the two of us. We danced our asses off. But we mainly kept coming back because of this guy (Nep’s crush) who was a really good dancer.

We had all kinds of stupid antics that summer too. In the usual teenage fashion, we met with random guys… prank called most of them. But didn’t really do anything drastic… mild stuff. Hee hee! Those were the days.

That summer came and went but what Nep and I took with us is a friendship that has lasted through the miles. School started, Ann came back and we were a trio again. We graduated high school, went to our separate universities. All the while, we kept in touch as often as we could (except for Ann and I – we went wild in Manila) and Neptune left. I think it was in the middle of our 2nd year in college when they (with her family) left for the States.

We haven’t seen her since. That was almost a decade ago, I think. But the great news is, I was chatting with her the other night and she’s coming home!!! Finally! She’s bringing her kid with her and I could hardly contain my excitement. She’s coming home summer of next year.

Another summer… we’re all so different now yet still the same in so many ways. Finally, another memorable summer I could add to my list. It’s been a while.

I’ve been trying to find a way to get my husband to enroll in yoga classes with me. This is because I found it very difficult to go to the gym or work out without him as my exercise buddy.

About 3 years ago, I made a feeble attempt to convince my husband to enroll in yoga classes with me. A slew of excuses came flooding in: 1. He’s too busy; 2. The classes were too early (6am); 3. He thinks yoga will just make him fart everywhere (because of the poses); AND HIS BIGGEST CONCERN: 4. It’s a sissy exercise program and definitely not for him.

It was so frustrating to get him to go. I knew that working out in a gym with treadmills, weights, and that whole enchilada wasn’t for me. I found it too taxing for my body that I’d find myself feeling spent by the time my day started. Since I knew I can’t make going to the gym my lifestyle. I knew I had to find another “workout” that could be part of my life.

Yoga is it. It’s the perfect workout that fits my lifestyle and personality. It was something I could see myself doing ’til I’m 80… or maybe some form of it. But the thing is, I let the fact that I don’t have a buddy to go with affect me. I know I shouldn’t but I love sharing things with my husband and since this is a lifestyle type of thing, I was hoping he’d join me.

Here we are three years later and what do you know? A man I admire and adore, someone I’ve never even met was instrumental to convincing my husband that yoga is THE exercise. It was none other than Bear Grylls. We saw his Sahara Desert episode wherein he performed yoga. I forgot why he did, I think it’s because he had to refrain from over heating. But that was the clincher.

I looked over at my husband and saw him nodding in agreement when I said: “See? Even Bear Grylls does yoga! It’s not a sissy exercise!” He was convinced. I couldn’t ask for a better spokesperson. But in his feeble attempt to seem like his first impression was valid, he couldn’t help himself and said: “That’s easy!”

I took out my yoga book, turned the page to where the pose Bear Grylls just did and asked him to try it. He did and admitted it was difficult. He finally came to his senses. Yoga is NOT a sissy practice.

Now, it’s just a matter of finding the right place to go to. I found one that’s near our house and we’re going to go and check it out before the month’s out. YEY!!! One giant leap towards Yoga!

It was my Mommy’s birthday last Friday. And in true Mommy fashion, we all went home with a full belly. Delicious Chinese cuisine at A Taste of Mandarin.

One thing I always dreaded was whenever anyone asked how old she was, it was pure sacrilege to tell the truth. I remember that she was 40 years old for a whole decade. Then came 42 and 45. It stopped there. So whenever her age came up, I’d simply say: “I love my Mom. I’m not at liberty to divulge any kind of classified information pertaining to her age and year of birth. I’ve signed confidentiality papers and will be held liable at the mere mention of her real age.”

It usually cracks them up but if they knew my Mom pretty well, they knew to leave the topic well alone… because it wouldn’t be far from a third world war if ever I did open my big mouth.

She’s always been a character. Someone who livens up any situation. Her tact is questionable at best but her charm lets her get away with A LOT of things. When I say A LOT… I mean A LOT. Sure, people take offense, but never the type that would get anyone deeply hurt or enormously angry at her. But when she gets angry, BOY… she could say the most hurtful things without thinking.

So, no one in their right mind would ever want to cross her. Especially about her age. She literally gets into a fit whenever someone slips up. I remember a good 3 years when I was literally FORCED to call her by her first name. She didn’t want to let her clients know that she had a daughter as old as me. It was so hard to de-program myself. After 25 years of calling her Mommy… and to think we were punished for doing that when we were younger.

Which was why it was so odd for me to actually hear her announce that she turned 60 years old. She still lied though. She wasn’t 60… she’s actually a year younger. Chinese custom forbids celebrating ages that end in 9. Like 29, 39, etc. It was unlucky they’d say (by the way, we’re not Chinese)… so they would usually skip a year forward. That’s beside the point: She actually declared her age… in public! Kudos, Mom!

Maybe it’s because we don’t live under the same roof anymore but my Mom kinda changed. She seems to be the new and improved version. She doesn’t hate too many people anymore. Actually believes in the Catholic faith (but still bashes the priests, archbishops, etc.) even more nowadays. I really hope that it’s real and she’s not going to regress anymore.

Or maybe it’s just me? Maybe the way I handle myself around her is so much more different now? I don’t really care what it is. We have a beautiful relationship now… I don’t feel so suppressed and oppressed anymore. She seems more content with her life now. I guess it’s true what they say: Life begins at 60. Keep it up, Mom! I love you and Happy Birthday!