–

Rise, oh my God, into Your proper place of honor,

above my fears,

above my desires,

above my second thoughts and apprehensions.

getting on

 

Tragedies do happen. We can discover the reason, blame others, imagine how different our lives would be had they not occurred. But none of that is important: they did occur, and so be it. From there onward we must put aside the fear that they awoke in us and begin to rebuild.

– Paolo Coelho

Exactly what I meant when I talked about getting on.

1 to 30 — Happy Birthday Eve

My 29^th birthday was lonely so the goal for this year is not to feel that again.  I’ll be this:

despite everything.

–

It’s my birthday eve and I’m quite happy as to how my child and I spent the day.  I finished work early and used up the rest of the day bonding with her.

I don’t want to sound cheesy, but it just dawned on me that in my 30 years of existence, motherhood is the biggest achievement I wear around my neck.  I’m far from being a perfect mom, but I’d love to think that the many things which people appreciate in my daughter are mainly due to the kind of mothering she gets from me.

You see, it took me a while— 3 years — to eventually accept the fact that it’s inappropriate for me to be looking for a “life” when one is right before my eyes.  Thankfully though, it’s never too late.

As I move on, one of the main goals on my 31^st year is to start becoming the best mom in my child’s world— although I think I already am

–

I initially planned to go out with hubby and daughter tomorrow even just for a simple snack.  Though this is not exactly the period in our life when we’re supposed to be dining out, I’d like to make the day a little different.

However, this afternoon, I was strangely dreaming of pasta with red sauce.  So, when A and I got to the supermarket, I ended up putting the rest of the pasta ingredients in our cart.  Sue me, but pasta at home isn’t a bad idea at all, right?  I’m sure my baby’s gonna enjoy it even more than eating out.

I’m still open to suggestions on how we could make tomorrow more special, and I’m sure my two accomplices would have great ideas.  For the mean time though, I’d just continue remembering the steps on how to prepare the pasta in my head so I can go through them in a breeze comes morning

2 to 30 — Hope

30 is a big deal.  Those who crossed this line already can probably nod their heads.  Although they may not be feeling jittery anymore– as 32 is just like being 22 — they must have also felt edgy before hitting the dreaded 3.

–

On my 31st year, one of the first things I’d like to do is make more time for the people who mattered in my life.  I’d like to reconnect with them, as most of them have been out of my radar for years now.

I’d like to make them feel appreciated; not that I didn’t thank them enough, but because it’s a reality that accurate appraisals come much later in life.

I’d also like to focus on appreciating people more, particularly those who matter in my life now.  I am aware that life is fleeting even if you live to be 80, and I honestly don’t want mine to fly-by without being grateful and telling the world that I am.

I’d like to try to be more forgiving; to love even those who are not exactly lovable, and to pray for those who have done, who do, and who are thinking of doing us wrong.

I’d like to exercise more patience, especially towards my child, who’s growing up so fast, and who’s in need of a great role model to live a fulfilling life.

I’d like to be a better wife; to see my husband as my other half AT ALL TIMES.  I want to spend better years with him, so together we can give more thanks to God.

I’d like to be a more loving daughter; to honor my parents in everything that I do, including the times when I disagree with them.  After all, they taught me to stand on my own and fight for what I believe is right.

I’d like to be more productive as a person;  to start my day early and not spend too much time in bed or in front of the TV.

I’d like to write more and hone my craft.  30 may be old, but I believe that nothing can ever be too late in life.

I’d love to go back to school, but I will not get pissed, or give-up, if I don’t get to do this anytime soon.

I’d also love to go back teaching, but I don’t want it to be my means of living.  I just want it to be the channel on how I can make a small difference in this world.

Finally, I’d love to be reminded every moment, that what I think, say, and do, should all be reflective of one thing– that there is a God, who is my ultimate hope.

3 to 30 — Gratitude

30 is old.  Honestly, it’s like hitting antiquity.

If I can do something to delay it, I will (will I?).

OK, so there goes my alter ego butting-in again.

I’ll be 30 in 3 days.  I originally imagined having a small party for this birthday because I’m celebrating my third decade alive.  Besides, I haven’t seen majority of my few friends for years and I thought it would be the perfect time to.  A party of 10 isn’t too much, is it?  That’s inclusive of my family already.

–

You see, the first time I envisioned this celebration, I already thought it was going to cost some; so, I geared myself to working extra hard.  After all, in freelancing, the harder you work, the more money you get.

However, just like many other instances in life, God has a way of slapping the truth right to your face: that you are human; and the things you want can’t always come your way.

In the middle of my working extra hard, our biggest-to-date challenge came.  Everything my husband and I drafted— individually and as a family— vanished in thin air.  In fact, to date, we are still waiting for the time when we could eventually rebuild everything.

But I’m not bitter.

Well, not anymore.

Finally, I have come to terms with this reality.  Painful as it may be, I have to get on with my life, especially now that I have a child to protect and take care of.

–

Getting on is not new to me.  In fact, my three decades of existence has been filled with a lot of getting-ons.  To an extent, it sometimes even feels like I’m a master of it already.

When something hits me smack on the face, I dive, get up, and dust myself off like a routine.  This is because I have long realized that the sooner you move on, the better for your, uhm, sanity.

–

Just like everybody else, I can complain about a gazillion of things, but I can be grateful for an awful lot too.

I read somewhere that the only difference of every day is your attitude; and there’s some sense in that.  After all, it’s you who decide which side of the story you will look at—the bright one or the other?

I admit that over the past years, I miserably failed in being grateful at ALL times.  But, I’d like to give myself some credit for ALWAYS knowing that to be grateful is what I should be. Failing is awful, but for the countless times I tried to hold onto that spirit of gratitude, I give myself a pat on the back.

More entries on birthday thoughts to follow.

Mantra

I’m strong.

I’m wise.

I’m valuable.

You can’t make me think and feel otherwise.

Korea Thoughts

I don’t know whether the universe really conspires, but it’s quite noteworthy that today, I got two more surprises.

As you know, I just got in touch with my Japanese school again after a decade and a half, right?  Then, this afternoon, as I was checking  my inbox at Facebook, I noticed that there was one unread message in the “Other” folder.

I clicked on it but couldn’t identify the sender because:

1. there was no profile picture and

2. the characters which the name was written in were foreign.

Thankfully, the message was in English and it said:

“hi. i’m ji hoon. korean . my English nickname is Zephy. i studyed English in (insert language academy here) 8 years ago. i’m a one of your student and you named me “Autistic balloon” Are you Biela who i know??”

OK, I know what’s on your mind.  What the heck was I thinking nick-naming someone “Autistic Balloon”?  What in the world does that mean?!

Honestly, I can’t remember how the story exactly went, or if one even did.  But I have to admit that upon reading the phrase, it kinda rung a bell

HOWEVER, I’m so sure the word “autistic” didn’t come from me.

I was a tactful teacher.  I’m very confident that the more wholesome word, balloon, could’ve been my contribution (ehem).  The first word must have been Zephy’s idea.

Now, I’d like to talk about Zephy.

He was a big and tall guy (like at least 5″11) who wore a pair of small, oval, silver/gold rimmed eyeglasses.

When we met 8 years ago (as he said), he must have been in his early-mid 20′s.

I remember Zephy had a deep voice which made it impossible for the people in the next cubicle not to know he’s the one talking.  (Well, given the set up in many language centers in the country,  it’s really quite impossible not to overhear each other anyway.)

I never had a problem with him.  He was more of the serious type so his study habits were good.  He also liked talking about a wide array of things and could pretty much express what he wanted to even in imperfect English.

Best of all, he knew how to respect a differing opinion.

Cut the long story short,  Zephy and I got along fine.  I guess that’s why we even managed to come up with a ridiculously, politically incorrect phrase.  It takes a good relationship to share something (as hilarious as) that;  or so I think.

Anyhow, so I eventually sent Zephy a message over Facebook to tell him it’s actually me.  Of course, I also approved his “request,” so we’re now officially “friends” in the social networking site.

My unapproved friend requests counter then changed from “39 ” to “38.”

But because “38″ is still quite a lot, I decided to go through the list one more time and check whether I was interested in friending anyone else.

After going “huh?! huh?? huh!?” several times, wondering who some of those people were, or why they were interested in friending me, another invite caught my attention.

The profile pic showed a topless guy with unruly shoulder-length hair,  sitting on a boat in a lake.  His name says Josh Joh.

Now, let it be clear that the invite caught my attention not because of the topless photo, OK?  “Josh Joh” certainly sounded familiar.

Hmm, Josh Joh, Josh Joh…

I clicked on the photo to have a better view and voila!  It’s JOSH JOH!

Josh was another Korean student of mine, but unlike Zephy, I met him much later.  Perhaps just four years ago, when I was already working in Ortigas.

Josh is a very interesting guy, and he’s married to an equally interesting woman– Jodie.

Josh and Jodie were both my students, but not in the same class (lest, there could have been a riot in my turf every day).

I met this couple when they were on the last leg of their (literal) “world tour” and Jodie was already several weeks’ pregnant.

Before going further about Josh, let me talk a bit about Jodie first.

Jodie was a pretty woman who had beautiful light brown eyes.  She had a sweet smile and exuded extraordinary confidence.

Her English was very good and she almost had a neutral accent so it was always delightful to talk to her.  On top of that, she was also very bright.

Meanwhile, her husband, Josh, still had a lot of work to do on the language.  Nevertheless, he never lagged far behind– confidence-wise.  Well, what do you expect?  Confident women get confident men, right?

Anyway, Josh struck me as a very witty guy.  His limited vocabulary never hindered him from expressing his thoughts.  And compared with other male Koreans, he was very open-minded.

I could go on and on talking with him about everything; and I wouldn’t worry censoring words, much more, thoughts, because he was just an engaging person.

By the way, he strikingly looks like a Pinoy too.  There were several times when even other Koreans didn’t take him as one of them

Both Josh and Jodie are very memorable to me.

Sometime, I’d love to post photos of them and Zephy’s, the three people who made me thought Korean today.

What happened after what happened

In the middle of writing last night’s blog, I started searching for familiar names over Facebook.   My being Japan-sick was getting too serious that I had to do something about it.

My search turned out to be more than I could’ve expected because instead of finding a classmate, I found the whole school!

You see, I ran into a fan page which goes by the name “Seikyo Gakuen” and when I clicked on it, here was what first welcomed me:

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the logo of my beloved school in Japan! The amazing institution which lies right on top of the hill in Kawachinagano.

I lost count as to how many times I choked by merely looking at the old logo and when I scrolled down the page, I started seeing familiar faces and places!  Oh!  It literally felt like I was going to get sick in the gut– but in a good way (never though that was even possible!).

I saw some of my old teachers and I can’t believe how majority of them didn’t seem to have aged at all. *sulks*

Of course, by this time, I was already too excited to go to bed; so, I decided to make some “noise” in the site. I introduced myself;)

Luckily, the administrator was still up (at such an ungodly hour) and s/he was equally thrilled!

I ended up going to bed around 2.

There, that was what happened after what happened;))

Japan Thoughts

It’s ten minutes before midnight and I’m done with today’s work.   In fact, I was in bed as early as 10PM.  But, after tossing and turning in the dark for over an hour, I finally got up and switched the light above my work table on.  I can’t help it.  I gotta write.

Thoughts swarmed in my head as I was trying to summon Sleep to come.  And most of these thoughts were about Japan.

Suddenly,  I saw myself cycling in suburban Osaka– the neighborhood where I lived– feeling the cool Spring breeze, and bumping into a girl who belonged to the same class.

I remember her name was Makiko Ito, and she was probably one of the first people I bothered with some of the most mundane stuff I couldn’t do myself when I first arrived in the city, like having a roll of film developed.

Yes, cameras still had films then.

Anyway, Makiko was very pleasant.  She had short black hair which barely reached her nape and she was fairer than the other girls in my class.  She had small, round, brown eyes which sparkled every time she spoke in English.

I remember she had a bestfriend, whom I thought was very pretty.  But I can’t remember her name.  Not yet.

Apart from remembering Makiko, I also thought of this neighbor whose house stood behind my host family’s.  She was very kind to invite me on a weekly meeting when she would teach me some Japanese and just chat about everything we could think of.

When Irina, an exchange student from Russia, arrived in the neighborhood, this neighbor   (I can neither remember her name– yet) saw to it that the two of us paid her a regular home visit.

I never knew how my otosan and okasan truly felt about this neighbor (aha!  It’s Imatani-san!), but since they gave me the green light to spend regular time with her, I guess they got along just fine.

Speaking about neighbors, I also remember the little poodle opposite our house whose name was “Happy” and who always barked like crazy when the garbage truck collected trash.

Away from the neighborhood, memories of me riding on a bike and pedaling to the supermarket, post office, post box, train station, phone booths, came flashing through my head.

I can also remember how I jiggled on the bus every morning whenever I walked to a seat, and how the warning “hidari de mawarimasu” (will be turning to the left) sounded a bit funny and annoying to me at the same time, whenever we’re nearing Congo Station.  From here I gotta take the train to school.

Anyway, there were many other things about Japan which came rushing to my head.   But because enumerating all of them now would take me till dawn, I promise to organize them in more sensible future entries.

Meanwhile, let me sleep.

Of Problems, Solutions, and Well, More Melodrama

Have you ever had a problem so big that all you wanted to happen was faint during waking hours?  Well, I’m kinda in that situation right now, and boy, isn’t it crazy!

Lately,  in one whole day,  I go through a multitude of ups and downs, twists and turns, hopes and despairs.  Sometimes, when I’m lying in bed and my child is asleep in my arm, I silently cry; as if I just have to let go of those tears; much like when the clouds are so dense and precipitation has to take place.

I promise to organize myself a little more because really, that’s what I’m supposed to be doing.  So each day, I embark on the be-better battle, and although failures are quite recurrent (and shameful, I know) I’m at least proud of keeping the fight.  No, I’m never giving up.  I will trip, fall, and get beaten, but I will always rise and go on.

This problem of ours has been dragging for months now and we’re down to the last stretch of our,  shall we say,  sanity– or maybe I’m just speaking for myself (hence my longing for the fainting episodes).

I know that the best way to deal with any problem is to face it head on.  No, it can’t be solved when all you do is refuse,  deny,  be a drama queen (ehem), or,  well,  faint.

Usually, when I’m worrying about the future, I’d find solace in Jesus’ words when he said:

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life,

  what you will eat or drink;

  or about your body, what you will wear. 

  Is not life more important than food,

  and body more important than clothes?

  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow, or reap, or store away food in the barns,

  Yet your heavenly Father feeds them.

  Are you not much more valuable than they?

  Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?”

(Matthew 6:25-27)

However, kissing the worrywart in me goodbye proves to be one of my toughest life challenges.  When the going gets tough, the effectiveness of these verses is just as good as its last recitation; just like a few seconds ago.

You see, I was born a worrier.  In primary school, I remember refusing to keep a journal because I can’t bring it comes Judgment Day anyway.  Can you believe that? But yes, that’s how my thought pattern was like.  Queer, I know.  I wouldn’t have been tagged as a “weirdo” too many times for no reason.

Anyway, this burden that we have right now, I know, will eventually end;  for everything does.  But it’s probably going to take a little longer, and we’d have to put up with more bitterness on a daily basis.

I hyperventilate whenever I realize that my child is growing up too fast.  These past days, I dig onto the past a little more often— the part when my mom made a decision and stood by it: to raise me as well as she could.

My life is way too imperfect, but I’d like to think I turned out just alright.  So, here’s to hoping that my child would grow up to be a lot better than her mother.  And to act on that, I’d better start the dusting off now.  Enough of the problems.  Let’s solve them, shall we?