Surprise Phone Call/Optimus Prime

I’ve been toying the idea of looking for a new job for days now. And so I sent my resume to a couple of seemingly reputable companies just last Monday…

But I never thought they’d hit me back THAT fast!

Got a call from one of my prospects just an hour ago. Yes, the guy called my office phone—thank God it was me who picked up! Found out later that they first called the house and Raffy, ever helpful, asked the recruitment person to call my office line. Oh well, oh well…

So now I really don’t know what to think! Or do in the days to come, for that matter. I remember always saying to myself, back when I was still single and non-mommy, to always, ALWAYS Carpe Diem. Sieze the day, sieze every opportunity... so I guess I will then!
I'm heading home now, but before I do so, let me just declare that I am...

...70% Optimus Prime!

Optimus Prime Optimus Prime is the heroic leader of the Autobots. He is the personification of courage, strength, and integrity. His personal motto is that “Freedom is the right of all sentient beings.” Like Optimus Prime, you are good by nature. But beware because mischievous thoughts sometimes tempt you. You are inspiring, confident, and a natural leader. The Autobots have chosen well. In addition, you enjoy technology and are aware of the latest trends, but you stick with what works for you.

Got this from the "Transformers Quiz Test(try it out! http://www.funflip.com/quiz/transformers/)." It made my day finding out that I am "inspiring, confident and a natural leader." Hay. Just the lift I need these days. I'm starting to forget that used to say those things about myself a lot before.

Le Festin / See you in Paris, Ratatouille!

Php8,000 Meralco bill unsettled less than 24 hours from now = isolated blackout. Sweldo = ubos. Kulang pa nga. Jaira’s Enfalac = half-empty.

It’s good that when I’m this close to snapping, I can go to Paris—thanks to that lovely, lovely song Le Festin (The Feast) from Pixar’s Ratatouille OST that transports me all the way there….

Jamais on ne me dira que la course aux étoiles, ça n’est pas pour moi
Laissez-moi vous émerveiller, prendre mon envol
Nous allons enfin nous réga . . . ler

La fête va enfin commencer
Et sortez les bouteilles, finis les ennuis
Je dresse la table, demain nouvelle vie
Je suis heureux à l'idée de ce nouveau destin
Une vie à me cacher, et puis libre enfin
Le festin est sur mon chemin
Une vie à me cacher et puis libre enfin
Le festin est sur mon chemin. . .

…so goes the chorus and last verse. Oh, how the song just makes everything picturesque! It’s on endless loop mode on my PC right now and things are just dandy, at least in the meantime. I can touch pale yellow and rust fixtures on wooden counters, smell freshly-brewed espresso and feel my heels clicking down cobblestone streets lined with dandelions and Marguerite des près...

Funny all throughout with a generous serving of French entrees and cute moments of rats flipping spices and herbs into boiling pots (I know, whoever thought this picture could be cute!), the movie for me was a much-needed break from my then worsening-by-the-day work anxieties.

But my life these days is on hyper-hurdle mode; work issues have been replaced by, uh, broke-ness, and mom-unrest. If you’ve read my aforementioned analogies, we’ll experience isolated blackout by tomorrow if we don’t pay that Meralco bill (primer: Raffy and I are living with my family, including my mom, to help them out with the bills. Unfortunately, we’re ending up paying everything ourselves. And it’s not like we’re earning enough for seven people.)! This problem alone is enough to fill my panic quota for the day.

Gustaeu, the master chef in the movie, has this motto, “Anyone can cook!” which got me thinking for a good 20 seconds—not that I don’t cook because I do, I do, I do! It was just that, well, it struck me that if “anyone can cook,” then anyone can dance, anyone can sing, anyone can make loads of money….LOL. Really, it gave a bright side to everything about my life right now. No matter how impossibly telenovela-like it is at the moment.

But more than the movie, I am loving the song Le Festin. Aside from that instant Paris effect, the lyrics translate beautifully, too. More than hopeful, the song is brave.

Here’s the English version of the verses in French above:

Never will they tell me that I cannot shoot for the stars;
Let me fill you with wonder, let me take flight
We will finally fea . . . st.

The party will finally start
And bring out the bottles, the troubles are over
I'm setting the table; tomorrow is a new life
I am happy at the idea of this new destiny
A life spent in hiding, and now I'm finally free
The feast is on my path
A life spent in hiding, and now I'm finally free
The feast is on my path…

Give it a spin, and I’ll see you in Paris, mon cher!

Thanks to my dear Karla, who gave KC and myself free passes to Greenbelt theater the Thursday before last, I was able to watch the movie AND share a splendid night-out with two of the best 20-something girls I know .

Nakow! I lost my marbles!

Mad Monday again. Took the MRT for fear of being late taking the FX. Stood in the middle part of the first car right where the floor is slanted. Blamed myself the whole ride for picking heels over flats.

I have two stalled blogs I was supposed to post last week but wasn’t able to finish. Was swamped with work so much that I didn’t even have time to sneak out to the hour-long therapy for my wrist.

And it didn’t help that I took on a side job for which I expect to earn extra (don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for this side writing job! Big thanks go out to Karla!) I tried to finish it off, to no avail, over the weekend. So, well, yeah, it’s been tiring since for-evah and my head’s about to plop on my keyboard right now!

David Sedaris kept me kind of sane, though, as I leafed through his book of personal anecdotes, “Me Talk Pretty One Day” every chance I get. The guy is seriously funny and brilliant (and gay) and I think he kind of rubbed off on me.

Sedaris’ humor, however, wasn’t able to discount the fact that I still had, how do I say this, incurable issues with my mom when it came to money. Going into details might shame her, for it also involved her supposed boyfriend, so I won’t.

In desperation I got down on my knees last night—seriously, I did, like little girls do by their beds in phony movies—and prayed for maybe a hundred times that He touches my mother’s heart. And that He provides us enough dough to, number one, tend for our needs without the funny heart-wrenching feeling similar to that of a little boy losing all his marbles, and to, number two, move out. Sorry ma, but I really think we have to.

* * *

Just some time ago my workmates have been discussing their Camarines Sur trip plans—which sounds like a whole lot of fun, believe me. There’s a fiesta that they’re supposedly crashing for food freeloading, and they’ll be touring and watching dolphin shows and staying at our dear Jas’ place there for two days. They're almost winning at twisting my arm to go with them, but I just can’t let them! The P1,500 fare-per-head alone is too much for my wallet to lose, plus I wouldn’t go without taking Raffy. And taking Raffy would, yeah, double the fare and blah, blah, blah. Jeez. Sometimes when I talk I feel like we’re dirt-poor!

But in the greater scheme of things, I still ought to feel lucky. It’s not as bad as it seems, really. Jaira’s laugh is golden, and it just makes me and Raffy forget that we actually have bills to pay. And she laughs so much more often now than she used to! It is such a treat to just watch her laugh, youbetchorpwet.

And as Mica often quotes those The Secret authors, telling me to exude positive energy to attract the same (verbatim: isipin mo na ang mga bibilin mo pag may pera ka na!), I realize that, what the hey, there’s still reason to be happy. And to try keeping my head from plopping keyboard-ward now, though I feel like, over the weekend, I’ve lost a hundred thousand marbles… whoops! Sorry—positive thoughts, positive thoughts… sweldo day tomorrow… positive thoughts, positive thoughts.

3am squirmy fits

(first posted on Multiply)

So much for promising myself I’d post something profound for a first blog…who would’ve thought I’d think of something better?! Somehow, everything that has to do with Jaira, my three-month old baby girl, is just simply better.

Last night at 3am I awoke to her constant squirming beside me, sweet little grunts that I knew meant, “Mommy, I want dede!” And so off I go to the makeshift milk prep table in our room where Jaira’s can of Enfalac A+ (we welcome sponsors, yes!) sat, nearly half-empty (or half-full to promote positive thinking?). I mentally computed how much cash we had left and figured we better buy another can on Saturday, sweldo day. Sigh.

A bottle and one less drippy nappy later, Jaira was still far from sleepy, cooing and flashing me her irresistible smiles. Good thing I already submitted to the fact that yes, 3am can also be playtime. And 1am and 2am as well. OK, 5am can count, too.

She conked out a little past four. Yay. I still had about half an hour to rest before getting ready for work. Surprisingly, I didn’t mind.

And I didn’t mind too when I was late for work because I changed her nappies, yet again, and played “where’s mommy’s hand?” with her right before I was supposed to leave the house.

What is it with becoming a mom? I wouldn’t have had the patience for these sorts had it been the old me. So I’d have more time for the myriads of things I used to, and hope to do…but I’d never ever be the happiest 24-year-old alive, like I am now.

I had wanted to go through the labor-room-horror-experience-of-a-lifetime stories I always had handy for those who asked. And circumstances would supposedly preempt me to go on and on about the slim (na sana ako na lang, diba?) bank account, the sleep deprivation, the insecurity and what-nots. But surprisingly, I don’t. Aside from the fact that Raffy (yes, we’re married now, for those who wonder. hehe) would hate me for it—somehow this husband of mine has mastered the art of positive thinking--whining just doesn’t quite seem to fit in the Jaira-picture of my life today. OK, “reduced to hopeful dreaming aloud” is what my usual whining’s really turned into, I guess. Still better than whining. :-)

Thanking God is now easier, too, I find. Work still sucks and I still have baby fat, blah, blah, blah, but there’s reason to smile everyday. Even during the 3am episodes, somehow the mental picture of Jaira blossoming into a beautiful girl and growing up to be my bestfriend just makes my heart burst. Which I find freaky, of course, since I never dreamt of being my mom’s BFF when I was a kid, up til now actually (and it’s corny but it’s how we’ve now become! I guess it’s that way when daughters become mothers, huh?). But what the hey.