Distractions, A-musement

When I said I haven't watched television for more than 10 years, I didn't mean it's because I didn't have a tv set. I have one the size of a chest freezer, but who cares, it's strong enough to hold books and whatever I wanted to load on top of it. Chat tried to convince me that to get the most out of my chest freezer, I need to at least have cable, but I just could not be talked into that because watching tv does not make me intelligent, or improve my memory. One thing it does, is make my bones stiff and my butt wide.

"When you read, you sit on your butt for hours, so what's the difference with watching tv?" "Just leave me alone." Is my constant answer. But the other day, I just could not resist it when she came with 2 men to install this wide and flat contraption in my bedroom. "Now, look mom, this is called Netflix video streaming. No pressure, you watch it when you want it." I admit, I heart the thing. And I heart it sooo much. But I'm not stupid, I know why Chat's doing this, she's worried I'd get into seniordating.com again if I'm not distracted.

A woman's need.....for a working brain

So here we go again. A woman's need for a man. Ok, but let me get something straight; when I call someone a "friend" I mean, he/she is not an enemy. I need not have a close relationship with someone for me to call him or her a friend. I am saying this because you might wonder why I talk about my "friends." Don't worry, I don't talk about my close friends, especially when I know that she reads my blog.

Anyway, since I don't have much to talk about me, we'll talk about another "friend." This happened a while back but it stays on my mind. My friend met this guy on the dating site. He wants to meet with her, she wants to meet him and so on and so forth. The date was set for him to come to her, but the guy could not make it for some reason or another. The guy lives in another State, so she offered to go to him instead. Fine, I don't have a problem with that. As long as he pays for my plane ticket, of course. But no, she took the bus and paid for it. I asked, "Why would you do that?" "Well, if I wait for him to come, it would take a while." Fair enough.
"I am bringing my good pots and pans and my computer." She bragged. "I can understand the computer, but why the pots and pans?" "Well, I will be cooking when I get there and I want to use my good pots and pans." This conversation is getting retarded, I thought.

She got there and she finds that the guy does not have a washer and dryer and she hates it. I hope he has a servant, I told her. "No, I am doing his laundry and mine now." This woman is retarded, I thought. She stayed with him for a week and came back to tell me more horror stories. He used her computer and was on every porn sites known to mankind and animals like him. "Well, thank God, you left him. Stay away from that bum." "We plan for him to come see me in a month, or as soon as I can put together some money to get him a plane ticket." Oh mylanta, I am getting retarded, why am I even listening to this retarded woman.

Chat tells me that I attract this kind of people in my life. True. But I love it because they're agitating alright, but stimulating and energizing nonetheless. Energizing because I want to bang her head with her good pots and pans. And stimulating because I sit here squeezing my brain, trying to come up with a good reason why I should cut her some slack.

Blinders and Blinded

Someone said that we all have daddy issues and we manifest this by the kind of men we choose. Of course, it is easy to spot this malady on other people, but when it pertains to us, we are blind to it. You know how we'd talk about other womens' men and we say things like: "Omg, what is she smoking? He's so ugly." And we can't or don't see that we are keeping a man who's not only ugly, he's also lazy.

I have this friend whose boyfriend weighs 300 lbs, with blood sugar that is twice that number and who can eat your grocery at 3x that number. With a shoe size the circumferrence of my waist. Imagine that glob of living cells parked on her (or anyone's) couch everyday, because he doesn't have a car and no place to go because he doesn't have a job. And he doesn't have a job, because? "Because he is working on his disability application." My friend says. "What's his disability?" I asked. "He is badly diabetic." ( I wanted to tell her that if one is diabetic, badly is not a necessary adverb. )

Based on what I have seen of my friends, I wonder and even fear at times that I would become like them.....that out of desperation or loneliness, I would just pick any male just to be able to say that "I have a man." Even at 12 years old, I already knew I didn't want a man without a college degree or without a job. I have to know that he is motivated to improve himself. I did not require one to be rich because a person can be 'rich' from inheritance, but I wanted one who has the integrity and the passion to work and be a provider out of his own sweat.

So I have been pondering: At what point in my life when I would become desperate for a man? And what would cause me to be blind and not see that it's better to be single and lonely than to have a bum causing my bed spring to sag, flipping channels on my tv (thank God I don't have one) and eating my anchovies while waiting for the government check to be approved? I need to stop pondering on this question, because right now I could feel my blood alcohol level going up.

Facebooked to death?

We blog, we Facebook, we tweet. We want people to know what we're thinking, what we're eating, who we're hating. Or who we're mating. And we feel gratified instantly by the pleasant feedback we receive, then feel dispirited, indented and depressed when no one seems to pay attention. Only 1 like and 2 comments? We have become more lonely.

Now, let me ask you this: If you're at, say, Starbucks, what would you normally do? a). do you sit down and be quiet with your java? b). do you read a book, a paper or shop their store while complaining under your breath how expensive they are? c). or do you call all your friends and put them on a conference call and tell them where you are? It's absurd to think that you'd do c. Most likely you'd do a or b, right? So how come that we broadcast to all our 1,093 friends on Facebook, everything that comes to mind or what's about to enter our mouth? (At Starbucks with....having....)And with pictures even! Because we have become more lonely.

Possessions or experiences are mostly treasured when we can share it with friends, because sharing is giving and giving is virtuous. And Facebook has made sharing so convenient and so instantaneous that we'd think we'd have more free time to spend with loved ones. True, if you consider him sitting across the table from you, focused on that little gadget in his hand, as spending time. We now have more time and more gadgets to help us isolate the very person sitting next to us. It's not sharing that causes our misery, it's convenience and instant---2 words that have made us more lonely. We're supposed to commune with each other, and take the time to sit in the ashes with our friends, and see actual sweat and tears streaming down our faces, (and not have to wonder and interpret cryptic words like huhuhu, argh, or lmaof) that's what makes us humans....not cyber geeks. God created us to be virtuous, not virtual.

Having said that, I have to say that I normally don't follow mine or other peoples advise, but am feeling so virtuous right now that I gots to share this. As soon as I find that FB share button.....

Who killed my muse

Lexapro killed my muse. And sapped my creative juices together with my emotions. You ate your siblings? Ok. You have sex with ants? Ok. Yup, nothing bothers me, nothing excites me. Like, right now there's some fire in the building across from me and there's about 4 paramedics/firemen rushing in and out. They used to melt my butter--- you know, fire and hardy sturdy firemen? Now, I look at them like they're sausages in fire retardant casings.

You see, 4 months ago I finally had to make a choice: take anti-depressants to keep the lid down on my anxiety attacks but in the process loose the force that makes me excited and exciting, (wishing anyway) OR not take the meds and.....

Well, the doc convinced me to take the first option--"just to help you sail through life with less storm winds". And now am like a drone---and am bored. And boring.

While I wait for my muse to come home (if ever) let's just look at some flowers..

I know, I know. I promised no more cat pictures

Hilarious ad

While I searched the web for ways to sell Chat's used and unused clothes, I came across this.
If this $1 dollar yoga mat doesn't sell, I can only blame it on the economy, it's definitely not from his writing. Here, read it.

http://seattle.craigslist.org/est/spo/2597736393.html

Sick again

When I was in Cebu, the first 2 weeks my body struggled to adjust to the heat and the pollution and my throat and lungs worked overtime that I started to run a fever. A doctors visit and a prescription of Bactidol took care of that. Now, I'm back in Dallas and my allergies has totally blocked my sinus .....I can't smell, I can't taste and I can't hear. I am not taking anything over the counter, instead, I just do the natural way---chicken soup. And ice cream.

Forgetting to forget

Everything that I could mess up, I did. I got locked out of my email address because I kept entering the wrong password. A sane and thinking person would have stopped to think and reflect. Did I do that? No. I went to look for more things to mess with. I decided to go online to view my bills, and proceeded to see if could manage to get locked out of there too. I succeeded. I don't know about you, but have you had one of those days where you feel like a wind up car stuck on the edge of the carpet with the motor roaring, threatening to flip over?

I desperately want to open my head, take out my brain and give it a good washing; scrub it clean from the cobwebs and dusts and get rid of that wrapped in a rubber band feeling. But inspite of this malfunctioning of my brain, it is not without some benefits. You see, there are things in my life right now that makes me sad and anxious---when I am thinking about it. But I forget that I'm supposed to be sad and anxious, so I don't. Ain't that cool?

George W Bush said that when he was young and irresponsible, he was young and irresponsible. I say, now that I'm old and forgetful, I am old and forgetful and seldom do I feel like a wind up car anymore. Most days, I just feel stuck and ready to flip over. But am not worried because I still remember to blog---regardless that it's few and far between.

Simplify

When people ask me why I continue to pay for an apartment when I am gone most of the time, my answer is : Because I can. (Though not really) I keep this apartment because I love it here. I've never felt this much attachment to anything until this apartment. Maybe it's old age. I didn't even bat an eyelash, or felt any sentimental pang when we sold our home, but I swore once that I will leave this apartment only when I'm in a casket. Other women spend their money on clothes and shoes, I spend mine on this apartment. So when I walked in here yesterday from the airport, I was so giddy, I wanted to twirl like the woman you see in the movies, when the man in a sweeping motion points to a house and tells her: "Yes, baby, this is all yours." Then I opened my eyes and I said, "Oh chit, I have to clean all these?"

I am still drunk from that 17 hour flight time from the East, but at least I can now tell you what day it is and who the President of the United States is. (Oh god.) Today, I scrubbed and vacuumed the dead little insects off of my bath tub, and when I got to the kitchen and checked the pantry, I was awed, amused, and amazed. And disgusted. I have all these stuff? I checked each item and can't honestly say that I really needed them or used them even. Look at all this money sitting and getting expired in this dark shelves!

After 7 months of living minimally in Cebu, buying groceries only as I cook them and not for when "I might need them," I felt so wasteful staring at the unopened boxes, bottles and cans of foods. I lived like this before I left? Well, my self-righteousness didn't last long. I moved the offending items and threw them into a box. I will ship them to Cebu. Oh wait. And Spend the money to ship them to Cebu? Can I use them there? Probably not, but for now, it will relieve me of my guilt.

In the moment

I am now back in my apartment in Dallas and in spite of this mind numbing jet lag, I can hear my thoughts. I am thinking about how grateful I am to God for this country He has allowed me to be a part of; where the streets are orderly and free from diesel-guzzling, fume-emitting, world war II remnants --the 4-wheeled carcass called jeepneys. And where Haagendaz ice cream is 1/4 the price of what it costs in Cebu. Right now I am very happy. I say right now, because as you well know, I am too restless to linger too long in that happy zone.

My 12 year old car is dead in my garage but I am happy because I am bumming Chat's Land Rover. She asked yesterday : "Do you want to use the Mercedes or the LR?" "What's an LR?" "Mom, you are jetlagged." Well, after 7 months of riding trisikad or habal-habal or the 4-wheeled carcass, my brain wasn't conditioned to think of German engineering, much more a LR?

Because I am perch high on it, I feel tall. It makes me look like I have good credit. But I can't linger in this utopia either because when I pumped gas this morning, my eyes got misty and it wasn't from missing the trisikad. It must be the price of gas.