Dwelling

Me at a recent college reunion. That's my old friend Edwin in the background.

I love my short hair, even on the days it sticks up in the back or falls limp into my face and makes me look like a small boy. It's actually made me more comfortable with my general lack of femininity, or just my aversion to all things to do with looking anything like this:

The Stepford Wives (2004, Paramount Pictures)

It also has the strange effect of making me feel even girlier whenever I do wear a skirt or dress.

I suddenly understand why the girls on America's Next Top Model cry in pain whenever they get drastic haircuts, only in my case, it was a drastic haircut that helped me to feel stronger. In getting my hair cut, I've pulled on the still-strange armor of being all myself.

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I'm finally free to move out of Cubao. I thought this day would never come, but here I am, browsing listings and checking commute routes.

I'm planning to move to Makati because the neighborhood's nicer, but the length of the commute and the fact that I'll be heading for Quezon City 5-6 times a week gives me second thoughts. The main reason I had for choosing Makati was that my brother may decide to share the apartment at any time, and it would actually be more convenient for the both of us if I moved south than if he moved north. I just hope the commute doesn't wear me down all that much.

I was thinking of moving to Ermita, just for the proximity to so many things of historical interest. It had been one dream when I was still in college imagining the fantastic life I would have in my 20s, and I learned the other year that it was just one long ride to the office (compared with the two or three rides I'd take from almost anywhere else). Sadly, my friends who actually live in Ermita say that it's noisy, crowded, polluted, and flood-prone; if they had a choice, they'd live elsewhere.

Cubao has turned me off to the idea of Quezon City in general. While Katipunan and probably Teacher's Village may prove to be the exceptions, I'm kind of annoyed by the kids who go to my alma mater today and would rather not be surrounded by them at the end of a long day. Yep, I've become one of those cranky alumnae who think the lower batches are out of their minds.

Where else? The area around my office is actually not so bad, but I would actually like some physical distance from work.

So, Makati it is, I guess.

Things I am looking forward to getting: a new mattress (the one I have has been bleeding foam for months, and not in easy-to-restuff chunks, but in particles), more bookshelves, a bigger cabinet, and a table and chairs. In my current cramped space, I work on the bed and eat on the floor, surrounded by books and piles of clothes.

Young middle-class problems.

Falling in Love

I've kept from writing anything like this in any public channel for as long as possible, lest I make either of us look bad or ruin any chance of repair, but I don't know. I guess something had to give.

"Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you will do with your evenings, how you will spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love and it will decide everything."

A friend's Facebook post recalled this old Fr. Pedro Arrupe, SJ quote to me this morning, but to be honest, it's been on my mind for the longest time.

If you asked me whether I harbored any bitterness over the breakup, I'd point you to that quote, then tell you that the love had decided everything for me: where I lived, how much time I spent with other people, which dreams to pursue and to shelve, and which emotional and psychological sacrifices to make and to accept.

Objectively, I don't or can't regret anything, not any of the decisions I made precisely because of how important this love had been to me. It was painful but, as Fr. Arrupe said, practical, as well as rewarding in its own way. I remind myself that all of that stuff, good and bad, made me who I am now—stronger, more confident, more independent, and even, arguably, more content than I have ever been in my life. I can wholeheartedly say that I am grateful for everything that happened.

Emotionally, however, I can't help feeling robbed, cheated, and lost.

You'll have to pardon me for shaking my head at statements like, "At least you're not starving," or, given today's events, feeling unaffected by others' misfortune. If I were feeling really cheesy, I'd quote the opening lines to Stars' "In Our Bedroom After the War" just to make some "cool" or "literary" point.*

Sure, I enjoy my job, I have a great family and great friends, I'm secure in my faith, I have neat hobbies, I can pay all my bills, I have a roof over my head, and I eat well; those things are always at the top of my head. Yet none of it seems as bright as it used to be, because the reason I worked to reach this kind of satisfaction is gone, and continuing to do it for myself or for its own sake somehow seems less worthy.

It's what happens when you build your life around something, only to find that your best efforts can't keep that something from disintegrating, nor the wind from stealing it all away, so that what you've built is now an empty shell.

I have faith that things will eventually get better, and if anything I believe about the Man Upstairs is true, they will work out for the best. That still doesn't do much to change how I feel right now.


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* Oh, what the hell.

"Wake up! Say good morning to that sleepy person lying next to you. If there's no one there, then there's no one there, but at least the war is over!"

Bicycle? Bicycle. Bicycle?

I've been thinking of getting a bike for a while now. Every day, on my way to work, I pass by this surplus bike shop on E. Rodriguez Jr. Ave. and ask myself if it might be easy enough to just bike to the office instead of taking jeepneys. It might be worth getting a bike to explore the city with, too; there's a lot I don't get to see, looking out of those little jeepney windows, and I'll get to go at my own pace.

What's deterred me so far is the lack of bicycle racks or parking in any part of Metro Manila apart from Marikina, the roasting heat that starts even before 9 a.m. (and the need to get to the office in non-sweaty, non-smelly condition), the fact that I spent most of my weekends with Martin in faraway Paranaque, and, to some extent, the complete absence of commuting females on bikes—I've never seen any biker babes on these streets; have you? I have female friends who bike, but not to work or school. So, I'm planning to visit all these bike shops tomorrow, and I'm still not sure whether I should leave with a bike.

All those downsides considered, though, a bike still represents freedom to me. Sure, I think of the childhood I spent riding whatever magical conveyance I wanted my bike to be. But I'm also tired of being the pedestrian that has to climb stairs just to cross the street, or wait till I'm three blocks past my destination to get off a jeepney.

Even if I didn't end up biking to work every day, I think I'd still like a bike for the weekends. Now that I have all this time to myself, I should really be able to explore the city now, and I'd rather do that by wandering around on a bike than going on foot but maintaining a certain radius from train stations and major roads.

Yeah, I think I'll get that bike. Way to psych yourself up, Kat. Good pep blog.