kwentong baul ni Suzette

Saint Anthony Elementary School

1990-Grade 1

Teacher: Good morning class!
All: Good morning mam!
Teacher: Suzette, what do you want to be when you grow up?

Tinginan lahat, di ba nila alam nanunuod ako ng Sesame Street! Nakakaintindi ako ng English no!

Suzette: I want to be a doctor!
Teacher: Doctor? Wow! (nambobola yung tone) Why do you want to be a doctor Suzette?
Suzette: Because I want to cure the sick and poor.

NAKS! May SC lang!

Ito ang pinakamahirap sa elementary life. First day sa school. After ng mga pa-cute na oras sa day-care centers or pre-school centers- panahon na para sa totoong buhay. First time mong pumasok sa school ng buong araw na walang “sleeping time” or “fun time”. Dire- diretso ang klase kakapagod, ang bigat pa ng bag. Kakalerki di ba? Bata ka pa lang tine-train ka ng magkaroon ng scoliosis! San ka pa?!

Ito yung year na na realize kong may potential akong mag business. Nagtinda ako ng Tex, goma at garter (para sa Chinese garter), kisses (na pinamalita kong manganganak na-hindi ko lalam kung totoo yang sabi sabi na yan hanggang ngayon) at Stationery (scented at unscented).

Bata pa lang magulang na ako.

Ilang beses na ba akong napagalitan dahil hindi ako nakikinig at busy sa pagtitinda? Marami na. Pero ang pinaka-tumatak talaga sa utak ko eh yung pinahiya ako ni Mrs.de Guzman. Yung classmate ko kasi (di ko na siya papangalanan baka ma hurt pa siya) binabarat yung Scented Barbie Stationary ko! Imagine kasinglaki yun ng ¼ sheet of paper, kapalit ng 2 maliit na Hello kitty na Stationary na UNSCENTED! Huwaat?! 2 Unscented? Kung ka-era kita, maiintindihan mo na big deal ito!

Anyway, sa kakaaway namin (dahil likas talaga akong maldita at hindi nagpapatalo), tinawag ako ni Ms. De Guzman (na still single till now), i-solve ko daw yung problem sa board. Ang topic? Borrowing! Yes, nakakalito naman talaga yun di ba? Manghiram ka ba naman ng 1 sa 9 para gawing 16 yung 6 para mabawas mo yung 8 sa 6, kumplikado di ba?

So, ang ate Suzette mo parang frozen chicken lang sa harap. Nakipagtitigan ako sa board, ayokong humarap, kakahiya no! Tapos, biglang narining ko sa background:

“Ayan kita nyo na kung anong nangyayari pag hindi kayo nakikinig? Who can help her?”

“Ma’am, I can solve the problem”

Muntik akong maiyak! Kilala ko ang tinig na yun! At hindi ako nagkamali si Manuel Gabat Jr. nga! Ang aking grade 1 crush. (Manuel, magdiwang ka na at nalaman mong ikaw ay minsan kong sininta!)


Ng araw din na yun, isinumpa ko si Ms. De Guzman! Hindi ko na siya bati kahit kailan!

Pinahiya at sinaktan nya ang bata kong puso!

*Thanks to Dolor for giving my main character a catchy-double meaning name. Luv yah!

unspoken wound

“that is the way it is with a wound. The wound begins to close in on itself to protect what is hurting so much. And once it is closed, you no longer see what is underneath, what started the pain” -Ann mei Hsu (Joy Luck Club)

I’ve always been very vocal and transparent about my feelings. I seldom hide or keep what I feel because first, I don’t want to and second, I don’t know how to. But through the years of pain, rejection, sorrow, disappointment and depression, I learned that I have to keep the negative feelings and thoughts inside me.

Why?

Because I know that if I tell people about it, they’re just going to tell me to stop whining and move on. They’re going to tell me that everything’s going to be alright. That God blessed me with a lot of things and that I should be grateful. That I’m still alive and able. That I can do the things that I want to do.

Sure, I know they’re right.

But I am hurt and wounded.

If the wound closes itself to protect me from the pain, will it also protect me from the memory?

If the scar hinders me from seeing what’s underneath-what started the pain, will it also protect me from the unending pain?

Will the scar remind me how I won the battle or how people hurt me and betrayed me?

Go figure.

But for the mean time, I’m not ready to let go.

I just can’t- yet.

flirting equals confidence

All of us can flirt- we just don’t know it yet.

A little bird told me that I am a flirt. A subtle one.

Now, I know why. That’s because, “Flirting comes from confidence. It comes from knowing that if the other person says, ‘Christ Almighty, what an appalling thought,’ as you mistakenly wink and woggle at him, you can walk away laughing because you don’t really care”.

Makes you think huh?

a toast for sinners!

"we may never get what we want


we may never get what we need


but here's to hoping we never get what we deserve!"


f cheers sinners! f

what's the hurry?

I always had this urge to finish everything that I’ve started. And I get depressed if something is not right or if something is missing. I talk fast, I walk fast and I always try to think fast (if its work and money related).

I’m always running after something.

I got to a point where I realized that I’m exerting so much effort over nothing, yet I can’t control myself. Few months from now, I’ll be 25 years old. But I feel older. Maybe because I’m always thinking about the future, the what-ifs.

I am now starting to think that maybe-just maybe- I wasted my youth.

Raf sat beside me today and told me that once I hit 25, the years would add up in a blink of an eye. Odd as it may seem, I wasn’t bothered at all. I felt okay with the whole age thingy.

After all, what’s the hurry?

I have the rest of my life to do the things that I wanna do.

I'll start today.

after yesterday..

you asked me,

"so?"

and now I tell you,

"it was sinfully...amazing"

*wink*

the day I realized and accepted I’m no longer a cup B

On my way to Hard Rock Cafe last Friday, my bra keeps on sliding up and down. I felt oh so uncomfortable (imagine an hour battle between me and my bra- thanks to the payday-Friday traffic jam).

And so, as soon as we reached our destination, I immediately went to the ladies room and took off my bra. Yes! You read it right. I took off my bra! Relax, I still have a tube top to cover my areolas (I can’t believe I wrote that!) and my slutty top (that also!).

I looked at myself in the mirror to check how I look like- hmm…safe. I looked okay, plus there are lots of women outside wearing pekpek shorts, I’d still be considered conservative anyway.

I returned to our table and Will asked me what’s on my pocket. I told him that I took off my bra (yeah, I forgot to bring my bag when I went to the ladies room, I know!). With his "alarmed" look and tone, he asked me "what are you wearing then?!", I answered, "a tube top". He then said "okay".

So for the rest of the evening, while eating and watching the concert, I suddenly realized that I lost a lot of weight. My bra can’t even stay on one position because it’s not guarding or covering the same bust line.

I felt sad and happy. I’m not a cup B anymore.

Happy - because I know I won’t have to endure the offensive look of men.

Sad - because I have nothing to show-off in cases that I have to, hahahahahahahah!

Today, I decided to buy new set of bras. I picked something in pink and beige and told the saleslady that I need those two in cup 34A.

She handed me new stocks, I paid and walked out of the store.

I’m officially a cup A.

I was smiling as I walked home.

And I’m still smiling up to now.