Dear Rayray, lest I get lazy.

I have been writing to you since you were in my womb.
Then you came out, and I talked to you in person.
Soon the fatigue set in; and I felt myself changing into someone I didn't think I'd become.
Sometimes good, other times not so much.
But still I hope you'll love me just the same.
I still catch myself asking the universe if I was really meant to become your nanay.
How am I doing?
Am I failing? Do I meet your expectations?
If you evaluated me like a boss did, how would I fare?

So many curious thoughts run in my head. Most of them I try to hush as soon as they start.
But no other means of asking them to lay down and just die comes close to how your hug melts away all the doubts.

I know I may not be the best there is. But please know I'm trying. Hard.
And that there's nothing in the world I'd rather be than your mother.

I thank God for you.
Thank you for bringing your boisterous laughter and Beatles/Rumba-loving heart into our lives.

love,
Nanay

Stop

What's your value?
Is it that which is written on your payslip? Encrypted with black patterns.
Is it in in how high or low your chair is--
what part of the office you stay
the view from your window
the laughs you get any time of the day
the people you can turn to for random jokes or fantabulous recollections
Is it in the number of nice clothes you could pick from your closet even with your eyes closed
Or the level you park your car in
the length of comments you could give
amount of flak you could take without vomiting?
Is it in the number of people you could choose to ignore without having to feel bad about it--
Or in the number of people whose opinion you don't care to know
Is it in the number of metals or whatever material your plaques are made of
Or the length of your resume and the hefty adjectives people use to introduce you?
Is it in the number of people who loathe you and secretly wish they were you
Or in the number of likes you get from a random post, an unlikely picture, or a stupid thought?
Or in the number of people who miss you and wish you were still there
Who can't wait to see you again
And share stories of what could've beens and what-nots
The number of hugs you wished lingered longer
The time you spent thinking about nothings and being with the right ones and knowing you're spending it well
You know what it is. The moment you no longer have to ask how much you're worth, the skies will get clearer the clouds whiter. Your vision for things you should've seen long before and enjoyed much more will be matched only by your happiest memories. Stop asking.
Nobody cares. Nobody should.
Because those who truly know how much you're worth, don't care...but love you just as well.

Yeahhh

reality often isn't poignant or romantic. But it always has its way of taking your breath away even during those moments which you feel farthest from being picture-worthy or movie eligible. Nevertheless the exagerrated versions we see onscreen always add more reasons to view one's life differently and actively seek reasons why even if it's not from a book, it's worth a shitload (or however which way one seems apt to describe it) of awesome memories and a healthy amount of anticipation for great things one could make true.

Vaguely

And when the music stops you ask yourself with a resounding voice, albeit in your head. 'Was it worth it'?
When you stare at Someone in the face and see the nothingness that have become of what once blossomed magically in between you. You remember all the laughter that jingle-jangled like unabashed music in your ears. You forget the time you thought you wasted but now know were spent on bouts with mediocrity and that everyday battle with deadlines and routine. But though each night and some mornings that turned to nights you felt deeply depleted, sometimes defeated, you always knew you put up a good fight. But now you stare at him--part foe or comrade, a little of both; now fairly, a stranger. And you can't help but feel more than a twinge of pain where once your heart was.

Just write.

In the hopes of sparking something deep deep down inside me, I'm writing.
No censorship. No editing. Basta, sulat lang.
Might be the best way to get through this mental constipation.
What I may be going through right now may be the same things I've been through every couple of years? months. It's always been a roller coaster ride. How else would life be exciting if it were only a series of straight aheads.
It's about time I reminded myself that whatever it is I'm looking for might already be staring me right in the face.
These days I call fallow times may be just what I need to challenge...ohh I hate that word right now (coming from client mtgs and internal idea-grinding sessions)
Again, I digress...
To challenge...the boredom that comes with status quo.
But what's wrong the boat not being rocked? Ain't life supposed to be dandy if it's peaceful with nothing but Jack Johnson songs playing in the background?
Ah, but Stone Temple Pilots will always have their place.
Not to mention Mick Jagger singing 'I can't get NO Sa-tis-fac-tion...'

Ano ba talaga ang gusto kong mangyari sa buhay ko?

Ah, the eternal question.
Sometimes I think I know what I want to do, and what I need to do to get the ball rolling.
And then I realize what I'm set to forgo.
Then I'd admit that I'm afraid.
Then I'll lovingly embrace the status quo, and simply tell myself that maybe I'm just being a tad bit ungrateful.

Maybe I am.
Maybe I lack endorphins. Sabi ni Regi, kulang kasi ko sa exercise.

Baka nga.

For lack of better answers, let's resurrect an old exercise. So here goes:
Things to be grateful for this Thursday Afternoon:
1. P25 ice cream
2. Friends to eat lunch with
3. Music
4. Earphones to zone off with
5. An 8 year old phone (o 9 ba?) that still works and can still kick ass
6. A 22 year old car that's still trusty, at malakas ang aircon! Go Tatau!
7. Regi's infinite understanding
8. Regi's corny jokes. Him laughing at my even cornier come-backs
9. Coming home to Rayray literally jumping up and down as he shouts 'Nanay, Nanaaaayyy! Hugggg1'
10. Hands that can type
11. All these on top of the usual sweet stuff: family, love, the practicality of having a God that listens.
12. Words.

As Sheldon Cooper would've said, 'There, there.'

Hmm. That felt, kinda...good.

Right or Left?

How do you know when you're doing the right thing?
Whether it be with my job, being a mother, a wife...a daughter, friend, or whatever. Sometimes I wish supers would appear--like a giant red check mark if I'm doing something right and an x mark that starts off as a watermark and begins to darken in shade as I stray away from the right path all the more. Giving me just enough time to mend my ways in the process and get myself back to the red check position.

Sometimes, it just feels right. But when I realize that some people aren't feeling right because of what I did, I start having doubts.
To allay my worries I caress my ego with the thought, "You're not my God."

Whoever it is who may not be pleased with the things I say yes or no to.
I just think, "You're not my God."

Principles sometimes turn gray. And the path sometimes goes wayward towards heaven.
And it does become hard.

These days when decisions seem hard, I just have to remember it's not about pleasing some people; it's about knowing what needs to be done...

And because I'm not all too sure what it is, I say, "God, please point me towards the right direction. And please remember that I have eyesight bordering within 'legally blind' so please please make the signs neon obvious."
Because I want to choose right by you. After all, You are my God.

Some things best enjoyed with you.

Paging regi,paging regi.you're right, we should come back to baguio sometime soon. Sana andito kayo ni Rayray. It's the perfect place and the perfect weather for chillaxing.



https://www.dropbox.com/s/3rw079smdy9lu34/2013-04-23%2018.05.29.jpg