MaybeMaile

It's a good thing people don't change...

Ginevra says people don’t change. I say people don’t really change either. I believe it’s pretty much true. We don’t mean that people, if they’re bad, will always be bad (especially if they don't find Jesus). We mean people are just who they are. THAT doesn’t change. We may change what we do. We may start acting good. Or start acting bad. Like do bad things or do good things. Whatever the hell that means.

But I say we remain the same people. We laugh the same way. We laugh at the same things we always laugh about. We like the same things. We dance the same way. We do goofy the same way. We still fuck up the same things (maybe not as often or as much as before). But the little things we hate, we despise, what pisses us off, what makes us giggle and smile, what excites us, who excites us...those pretty much remain the same.

And that’s why the people you just clicked with ages ago, you click with again, years later, without having to talk about what you’ve been doing lately. It’s not about what you do or don’t do anymore, it’s still about who you are.

So you just start talking about different things but still being the same people, enjoying what you’ve always enjoyed. And bitching about the shit you don’t.

Pre-Lunch Chat with O

M: i am hungry!

O:‎ you are always hungry
O:‎ you are like a guy
O:‎ do you have a penis?

M:‎ i think i have a pet tape worm in mah belly!

O:‎ or balls?

M:‎ in my purse - all the time

O:‎ maybe you are a hermaphrodite

M:‎ the balls i keep in my pockets to keep my hands warm

O:‎ it would explain a lot

Greg got into work right after my coffee was done brewing and he grabbed it from under the coffeemaker. I assumed he was going to hand it to me to make room for him to make his.

He proceeded to walk into his office so I yelled at him to better give me my damn coffee back!

He laughed, turned around, put down my coffee on his best and shook his head.

"You are the worst assistant ever. I should put you in touch with my old assistant."

"Well, I want a shiny medal for that award and another pair of funky-colored socks to go with it, thank you!"

Just for a body part and a buddy?

Now why would I get married? Do I need to get married? Let’s think – how would marriage benefit Maile?

(long pause). Ok. One: cock.

(Megan laughs) Yup. 24/7.

Pssh. Not even.

Wait, are you just going to think of material benefits? Don’t you want someone you can hang out with forever, ALL THE TIME?

Ok. Now you’re making it sound dreadful.  Forever? All the time??? Sheesh.

Yah, it will be like me and Pooka.

Great.

To each his own lunch.

I was preparing lunch at my dad's place, in the boondoks of Batangas, a province south of Manila, when I thought I saw the cat go by with something in its mouth. Was that a mouse? A rat, maybe?

My dad lives in a small, rural town. His kitchen overlooks a deep ravine with lots of fruit trees he's planted along with other wild plants growing on the side. It's also filled with a lot of bugs and birds. All good stuff except for the ones that bite (haven't been bitten by a bird yet, though one bearded yellow and black one came by earlier, shrieking at me for a good  5 seconds, 10 feet away).

Curious, I ran out of the kitchen after the cat and heard some noise in the shed next door. I found the cat underneath a table then made out a tiny blue bird trying to get away. I screamed at the cat, stomped my feet, but that just made the cat panic and grab the bird by its head and run away. Gah!

I went after it (them) but the stupid cat had gotten under more shit in the shed. I ducked and looked but couldn't see them. I yelled and yelled some more but nothing. I knew they were still under there but I figured it was too late, thinking the poor bird must be half-mauled by now and dying anyway, even if I got it from the cat. 

Funny thing was as I was walking back to the kitchen, I realized I was still holding the whole fish I was cleaning in the sink, about to fry for lunch. 

That cat must have been cussing me out for being such a hypocrite, screaming at him to let go of his lunch while I'm running around like a mad lady, holding my own dead animal for a meal in my hand. 

 

Me no smoke no more.

Can I say I've quit smoking even though it's only been a little over 2 months? What if I make it until after my birthday in a couple of weeks? Does that make me an official "non-smoker?"

I highly doubt I'll go back to smoking. I've already tested myself in as many ways that I could. I started off by hanging out again with ex-fellow-smokers (hehe), gauging to see if I was going to grab a cigarette right out of the pack they were holding. I didn't. I took a subtle whiff of the air, tried to get a bit of the cigarette smoke scent, see if that would get me started. Nope. Nothing.

Then I pushed it a bit more by going out with them for that one beer before dinner. Yes, they brought their cigarettes. Okay, I'm drinking beer now. Alcohol. Still didn't want to light up. Okay.

The ultimate test I took (I think) was drinking beer, and wine, and some crazy red-orange drink with rum and gin and I don't know what else, WITH a bunch of cigarette-puffing Filipinos, Americans, and British folks. I mean, this is a party in itself. Mix it up with alcohol, low-cut tops, and frolicking boys...it was on.

But I didn't cave. Didn't give in to the packs of cigarettes scattered on the table, in Eric's pocket one over, smoke in my face. And I was drunk. So drunk. And I was proud of myself.

I made it home smoke-free.

Transitions, transitions...

So I've always been about change. Every year, something always changes in my life. Either I move to another place, get another job, or quit one. Start another relationship, or end one. Like the inevitable death and taxes, the only other things that have stuck in my life are change and my kids. Oh, and adventure, of course.

I've been exploring and curious. I haven't found any job or any 'one' I would want to be stuck with. Okay. Maybe there IS someone but he's a pain in the butt (oh, you know you are).

But I definitely haven't found my career yet. And I don't think I'm due for a nice career package anyway. It's just not me. I'd just be happy involved in multiple projects while making money on the side. Big side money. Now wouldn't life be grand that way.

I am getting myself there. I actually have a clearer vision in my head. Before, I was swimming inside a fishbowl, looking out, up and down and around, not knowing what the hell to do next, which way to go. Now I'm floating, a bit more calm, not so panicky and desperate for an answer.

Someone told me last week (after warning me that he'd be blunt) that at this stage in my life and at my age, I should already know what I want and be doing it. I agree that that would be great. Just pretty fuckin' awesome if that were the case. But it's not. So it was just a nice little point-out (or a put-down?) that didn't help much since no suggestions or encouragement or support followed. It was like, "Hi. I think you're screwy. Have a nice day!"

Alright. Thanks.

But I was more amused than anything. Ignorant comments and actions do that to me sometimes - make me laugh. An ideal life happening with perfect timing just does not exist. To believe it does is just a set up for disappoint and guilt. And I don't think I'm up for that.

I'm up for learning and growth, simplicity and smelly kids. Freedom gained from financial stability and being with the right, respecting people are in the works, too.

Filipinos, Schmilifinos.

I was having a couple of beers with some Americans I met a couple of weeks ago before dinner, just outside Serendra, at Market Market in Fort Bonifacio area, watching all the people walking by, hanging out in the heat and humidity.

"Oh my god. I'm in the Philippines. How the hell did I get here?!"

It just came out. Said half to myself, half out loud. Maybe hoping to have someone give me an answer. But Fletcher and Eric just laughed. "We ask ourselves the same question!!!"

But as much as they complain, they love it here. They're still here, right? They laugh about how Filipinos refer to their apartment as "unit." Like, what number is your unit? Can I see your unit? How BIG is your unit???

Hello. Let me take a look first. Fletcher looks down, pulling his shorts out, pretending to take a peek.

They bitch about lunch hour when most businesses shut down to eat at noon. Sorry, sir. We can see you're bleeding with your finger about to fall off but the doctor is out to lunch. And no, there's no one else to call. You want to come back later? Sorry, sir...

There are just a lot of things here we wish would change or be done better. But it is what it is. But at least I'm not surprised anymore because I did used to live here. Even though I do still get infuriated and pissed and want to chew someone's  head off. But so does everybody else. And it's it not just here. It's everywhere, too. All over the world. We all have our share of dumbasses and genuises. Assholes and good folks.

I guess it's just all about meeting the good folks, hanging out with them, and sharing great humor.

Everything else?

Fuhgeddaboudit.

Miss Philippines - All fluff, not enough character...

Didn't watch the whole Miss Universe pageant on TV. I saw a couple minutes of it, the gown part, while eating lunch out real quick. There was a small TV on the side that other Filipinos were also watching. Just saw a bit, glanced behind me every now and then until we were done eating. I saw Miss Philippines and thought, "Yah, my sister was right, she is pretty attractive and confident."

I guess that showing wasn't live because as soon as we got back, the Internet said Miss Mexico had won. Awww...too bad! And then I read more online, and realized Miss Philippines was actually one of the favorites, like way up there along with Miss Mexico! Wow!

I then read about the question and answer portion. Geez. Of all questions she had to get - Which dirty laundry would you like to flail around in front of millions of people tonight??? Oh, and make it the dirtiest one, too!

(Ok, so the real question really went more like "what's a major mistake you've made in your life and what did you do to fix it?").

Uhm...as their culture, Filipinos will always try to portray their lives as perfect. That's the first thing that has to remain intact -  The Reputation. They will lie, cheat, even kill, just to save face. But those are the more extreme. Maybe. The "normal" ones just won't mention shit. At all. They'll pretend like shit's not there and it's not stinkin' up the whole house. They'll get really offended if you bring it up, or they'll laugh it off like it's nothing, but this is really what's keeping them up at night - shit, what are other people gonna say???

So, of course, Miss Philippines is not gonna SHIT. Hell nah! I bet she's already made a a pretty huge mistake in her life by now, but I also bet even her own family doesn't know about it! And now Mr. Baldwin wants her to confess? Oh, nu-uh. So, she played it off typical Filipino style, almost arrogantly claiming she's perfect. Funny. Or disgusting. Definitely sad.

See, that kinda shit would fly over here okay. But she just sounded painfully absurd to everyone else in the world watching her in Vegas.

Disappointing Daddy Again...

I don't profess to know anything much about anything. Heck, I can barely understand some aspects of my own life. I guess that's the price I've been willing to pay to escape boredom.

But I've believed for a long time that I've always valued freedom. I've lived my life revolving around that belief, to the extent I haven't been "successful" in life, in the most acceptable way. No, I don't have much savings. I actually have more debt than savings. Just slightly. Even if you include all my assetts. Well, maybe not, I'm not sure. I do own a lot of books and too many funky electronic gadgets besides the normal ones people usually own. But they're so cool!

Maybe this is why my dad told me to change my lifestyle. But I still don't get that. I don't buy designer anything. I actually buy a lot of my stuff used, especially clothes. Or I get them second-hand from some sassy and fashionable chick who gained a bit of weight. Boo for them. Yay for me.

I don't own some flashy nice car. I have two. For now. And they're both dying. One's an '85 VW Scirocco and the other is a '92 Beemer coupe, exactly as old as my older daughter. And they're both POS's. This is what my ex-boyfriend mechanic used to call piece-of-shit cars. He'd literally chalk POS on the windshield as they came in, dying to be fixed. I thought that was so mean. But oh so funny.

So what the hell does my dad mean about me changing my lifestyle??? He visited me in California a couple of months ago and stayed for 3 weeks. I rented a 2-bedroom apartment in the East Bay around the San Francisco Bay Area. I was only paying $1100 a month on that. That's hella cheap (Yup, that's right, I said hella). You may be able to get a room (a room!) in San Francisco for that. I didn't eat out all the time. My kids went to public schools. I don't even wear makeup, for crying out loud.

Maybe he was talking about the iPad I just bought. But fuck it! My last personal computer I bought cost less than $500 3 years ago! And the one prior to that was another 4 years before.

What the heck does he want from me? I'm afraid to ask. Actually, to ask was a quick passing thought the moment after he gave this wonderful advice. But I just started my first drink during my sister's birthday party at her house, and my brain was already slow to get all fucking mad and aggro on him. Thank you, vodka. And I guess this little all-knowing voice in my head knew anyway that I never get anywhere with my dad whether I react or not. Thank you, little voice in my head.

But know I'm racking my brain about what the hell he meant by that. I think he wants to me to be like him. Or at least NOT ME. Which will never happen. Because I just realized I have another value besides freedom - UN-BOREDOM.

So help me god.