Amnesia, the Weather and South Beach
There are many ways of looking at life. You can focus on the bad things and succeed in convincing yourself that you were born to this world as the eternal victim and as the receiving basket of life's ill will. Or you can opt to develop selective amnesia and let everything else slip away into limbo except the ones that make you feel good and happy.
I think I have masterfully developed one that suits me just fine: remembering the lessons that are worth keeping and the memories that make me grateful for a life well lived and then shred into tiny pieces the ones that would bring back a pinch to my heart.
Not a very long time ago I have loved someone. I thought it was for real. It was your dreamy kind of love affair that is all rosy and poetic. It was very real and despite its complications, I wanted it and I thought it was what he wanted too. In its imperfections I had fantasized settling down and voluntarily giving-up much of what meant a lot to me at the time in exchange for the commitment with who seemed to me as the 'perfect imperfect man'. Well, to make a long story short, he wasn't. He had a moment when the moon was full and his life wasn't going into the direction he had wanted it to and so he decided that he didn't deserve all the good things that seemed to go his way and that he was better off dis-engaging from the high now before it hit a higher altitude when his fall would have become more painful.
And so as a repercussion of him letting go the ropes to a shared dream, I had fallen without a net into the terra firma of reality that not all that is good is what it seems. Geez, I am getting too old for these fairy tale expections, you must be uttering. But no one who falls in love believes that endings will come. Much as they will speak of endless doom, I know in the back of their heads their wish is for eternal 'amore'.
We did not communicate much after that, Mr. Premature Ejector and I. Until recently when we had to exchange some information about a transaction for a friend and he had casually mentioned some personal trouble that he was going through in his life. My fingers have a life of their own when it is faced with the keyboard. My thoughts flow through the electricity of my veins and just tap away words into the email messages without much ponderance. I clicked back at the Sent box after and reviewed what I had sent and in my usual style I had asked with genuine concern the basic who, what, why and how of the situation. I am sure my twisted being tearfully wanted to reach out and come to his aid and willed things to be right for him again.
Just then the other person in my split personality took over and gave me a violent whack across my head. I return to the present tense and lo and behold remember how miserable this person made me feel for about a week (the maximum I allow myself to wallow in any kind of negativity) a long long time ago. And I am amazed how much a sucker I must be to sympathize with him at a moment of tragedy when he had brought me so much pain and not even felt any remorse for it. DUH?!
He emailed me back and as expected, his story oozed with self pity and the words wept with much drama.
I read the message once and revived the pain he had brought to my life at a time when I gave so much for nothing in return and then hit the delete button. I am growing up. I am now refusing to acknowledge the junk mails in my life.
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Weather in New York is always as unpredictable and as extreme as the New Yorker. It gets glacial in the winter, humid and tormenting in the summer and then the in-betweens fall during the spring and the autumn. When it rains you get drenched for days - inhumane as how it was once described by a woman on the bus when the heavens opened up and a steady downpour began. In my mind I wanted to transport her to the Philippines at the height of its typhoon season when trees would be uprooted, corrugated roofing sheets flew like UFO's and heavy rain fell steadily for hours as though being poured from a heavenly bucket.
Last week we had three days of high heat and humidity but considering it is the middle of the summer, it was still mild. So far we have not had any temperature soaring in the 90's and the weekends had always been perfect. It is funny though that one day you can be sweating as you walk to your bus stop and then the next shielding yourself from wind and rain and then suddenly find yourself in a perfect morning with a light breeze, sunshine and cloudless skies.
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I have gone on a low-carb diet with the hopes of losing weight in time for Kristine's wedding. I wanted to fit perfectly in a body hugging low-cut dress (which I haven't bought until I can be sure I had won the right to wear one). Des and Kristine joined me in the endeavor and so we each bought the codigo for the purse of the can and cannot's to the South Beach Diet. Kristine went as far as cleaning out her ref at home and returning to the grocery to buy only those in the 'can' list.
We did it alright, went on the diet for about 2 days and then the weekend came and it was all over. Kristine had celebrated Zaza's birthday and it was downhill from there. Des' weekend was about going out with Andrea and her friends and that saw the low-carb objective fizzle out. I went to dinner Friday night with Michael at Penang Grill on 84th and 2nd and cheated with brown rice. The next day I had lunch with Ludette at Saigon Grill and just stopped pretending that I was still low-barbing.
I know, I know, the best way to lose weight and firm up is to exercise and eat in moderation. I still yearn for the sugar rush in the morning so I still can't get started without my juice (I don't drink coffee and Peter, my officemate, has resorted to calling me a freak for it), eat a normal lunch and then skip dinner altogether. It is not healthy but I have never really gotten hungry after 6PM unless I am within smelling distance of some savory dish to refresh my salivary gland and my brain about this thing called dinner.
When your body goes through minute episodes of starvation, it sends your system into recovery and slows down the metabolism, I had been forewarned. But if I eat three square meals a day it all goes to my thighs and my middle portion. And frankly that is the last thing I want since that would mean I'd have to get new skirts and pants and that my tops would fit me like a lumpia!
Someone I know just had breast augmentation. I asked Francis about liposuction and I got a blunt 'tang-ina' in return. He has always been an advocate for the 'if it's not broken, don't fix it' mindset. Eat right and exercise, he spat back on the chat with a sting. "Ouch" is how I responded, keeping in mind how much pain it is to return to a routine of gym exercises when I had been remiss for more than.... three years. I have not stepped into a gym since coming to New York. I used to work out regularly back when I was still working in Makati because it was so near Assumption College and so after I brought Nicole to school I had nowhere else to go til it was a decent time to show up for work.
I cleaned out my ref a few weeks ago but now realized I have just re-filled it with the stuff I had thrown out before: bottled soda, regardless it is diet or C2 (the low carb version), sorbet (makes me feel less guilty than ice cream), bread - despite the fact it is English muffin which pretends to be low carb, low fat and low whatever.
I need a bike but with a walk-up apartment on the 3rd floor it is more likely that I'd buy the thing, haul it up and not have the motivation to bring it down again. Maybe I'll just go to Central Park, rent a bike and pedal around the park.
While contemplating and analyzing this, I just wasted my time and it is now almost midnight on a Saturday. Hohum....I will think about it again tomorrow. And maybe if I keep thinking about it I just might fool my body into believing it is exercising and dieting and lose some pounds along the way.
I think I have masterfully developed one that suits me just fine: remembering the lessons that are worth keeping and the memories that make me grateful for a life well lived and then shred into tiny pieces the ones that would bring back a pinch to my heart.
Not a very long time ago I have loved someone. I thought it was for real. It was your dreamy kind of love affair that is all rosy and poetic. It was very real and despite its complications, I wanted it and I thought it was what he wanted too. In its imperfections I had fantasized settling down and voluntarily giving-up much of what meant a lot to me at the time in exchange for the commitment with who seemed to me as the 'perfect imperfect man'. Well, to make a long story short, he wasn't. He had a moment when the moon was full and his life wasn't going into the direction he had wanted it to and so he decided that he didn't deserve all the good things that seemed to go his way and that he was better off dis-engaging from the high now before it hit a higher altitude when his fall would have become more painful.
And so as a repercussion of him letting go the ropes to a shared dream, I had fallen without a net into the terra firma of reality that not all that is good is what it seems. Geez, I am getting too old for these fairy tale expections, you must be uttering. But no one who falls in love believes that endings will come. Much as they will speak of endless doom, I know in the back of their heads their wish is for eternal 'amore'.
We did not communicate much after that, Mr. Premature Ejector and I. Until recently when we had to exchange some information about a transaction for a friend and he had casually mentioned some personal trouble that he was going through in his life. My fingers have a life of their own when it is faced with the keyboard. My thoughts flow through the electricity of my veins and just tap away words into the email messages without much ponderance. I clicked back at the Sent box after and reviewed what I had sent and in my usual style I had asked with genuine concern the basic who, what, why and how of the situation. I am sure my twisted being tearfully wanted to reach out and come to his aid and willed things to be right for him again.
Just then the other person in my split personality took over and gave me a violent whack across my head. I return to the present tense and lo and behold remember how miserable this person made me feel for about a week (the maximum I allow myself to wallow in any kind of negativity) a long long time ago. And I am amazed how much a sucker I must be to sympathize with him at a moment of tragedy when he had brought me so much pain and not even felt any remorse for it. DUH?!
He emailed me back and as expected, his story oozed with self pity and the words wept with much drama.
I read the message once and revived the pain he had brought to my life at a time when I gave so much for nothing in return and then hit the delete button. I am growing up. I am now refusing to acknowledge the junk mails in my life.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Weather in New York is always as unpredictable and as extreme as the New Yorker. It gets glacial in the winter, humid and tormenting in the summer and then the in-betweens fall during the spring and the autumn. When it rains you get drenched for days - inhumane as how it was once described by a woman on the bus when the heavens opened up and a steady downpour began. In my mind I wanted to transport her to the Philippines at the height of its typhoon season when trees would be uprooted, corrugated roofing sheets flew like UFO's and heavy rain fell steadily for hours as though being poured from a heavenly bucket.
Last week we had three days of high heat and humidity but considering it is the middle of the summer, it was still mild. So far we have not had any temperature soaring in the 90's and the weekends had always been perfect. It is funny though that one day you can be sweating as you walk to your bus stop and then the next shielding yourself from wind and rain and then suddenly find yourself in a perfect morning with a light breeze, sunshine and cloudless skies.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I have gone on a low-carb diet with the hopes of losing weight in time for Kristine's wedding. I wanted to fit perfectly in a body hugging low-cut dress (which I haven't bought until I can be sure I had won the right to wear one). Des and Kristine joined me in the endeavor and so we each bought the codigo for the purse of the can and cannot's to the South Beach Diet. Kristine went as far as cleaning out her ref at home and returning to the grocery to buy only those in the 'can' list.
We did it alright, went on the diet for about 2 days and then the weekend came and it was all over. Kristine had celebrated Zaza's birthday and it was downhill from there. Des' weekend was about going out with Andrea and her friends and that saw the low-carb objective fizzle out. I went to dinner Friday night with Michael at Penang Grill on 84th and 2nd and cheated with brown rice. The next day I had lunch with Ludette at Saigon Grill and just stopped pretending that I was still low-barbing.
I know, I know, the best way to lose weight and firm up is to exercise and eat in moderation. I still yearn for the sugar rush in the morning so I still can't get started without my juice (I don't drink coffee and Peter, my officemate, has resorted to calling me a freak for it), eat a normal lunch and then skip dinner altogether. It is not healthy but I have never really gotten hungry after 6PM unless I am within smelling distance of some savory dish to refresh my salivary gland and my brain about this thing called dinner.
When your body goes through minute episodes of starvation, it sends your system into recovery and slows down the metabolism, I had been forewarned. But if I eat three square meals a day it all goes to my thighs and my middle portion. And frankly that is the last thing I want since that would mean I'd have to get new skirts and pants and that my tops would fit me like a lumpia!
Someone I know just had breast augmentation. I asked Francis about liposuction and I got a blunt 'tang-ina' in return. He has always been an advocate for the 'if it's not broken, don't fix it' mindset. Eat right and exercise, he spat back on the chat with a sting. "Ouch" is how I responded, keeping in mind how much pain it is to return to a routine of gym exercises when I had been remiss for more than.... three years. I have not stepped into a gym since coming to New York. I used to work out regularly back when I was still working in Makati because it was so near Assumption College and so after I brought Nicole to school I had nowhere else to go til it was a decent time to show up for work.
I cleaned out my ref a few weeks ago but now realized I have just re-filled it with the stuff I had thrown out before: bottled soda, regardless it is diet or C2 (the low carb version), sorbet (makes me feel less guilty than ice cream), bread - despite the fact it is English muffin which pretends to be low carb, low fat and low whatever.
I need a bike but with a walk-up apartment on the 3rd floor it is more likely that I'd buy the thing, haul it up and not have the motivation to bring it down again. Maybe I'll just go to Central Park, rent a bike and pedal around the park.
While contemplating and analyzing this, I just wasted my time and it is now almost midnight on a Saturday. Hohum....I will think about it again tomorrow. And maybe if I keep thinking about it I just might fool my body into believing it is exercising and dieting and lose some pounds along the way.