One to Adele

“On a scale of one to Adele… How bad was your last break-up?” 

(http://www.imglols.com/on-a-scale-of-one-to-adele/)

I saw this cartoon shared on Facebook recently and it made me laugh. While I could totally relate to the feeling of going through a very bad break-up (Read: Set Fire to the Rain), I wasn’t the type who would say, “Never mind, I’ll find someone like you” because that it precisely what I don’t want to do. I don’t want someone like you. I want someone better. Someone who will treat me better. But I do agree: “sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead.” There’s pain, but there’s also hope.

As this generation’s Queen of Break-up Songs, Adele captured the varying emotions one feels when a relationship breaks up. We’ve all probably felt like getting back at unfaithful exes, wanting them to go “Rolling in the Deep” and never resurfacing again.  Or maybe we feel like we’re just “Chasing Pavements”, feeling like a car crash waiting to happen but still trying to make it work. Or maybe we felt abandoned and not knowing why just makes it even more painful. “Don’t You Remember”?

Beyond the lyrics of Adele’s songs, though, there is the beauty of her voice. It’s smokey, full of authority, yet wise… It’s open and full of emotion. When she sings, you hear the longing and the regret, the anger and annoyance… Or is it irritation? It’s deep and rough, like cornmeal in a can. It’s perfect for expressing strong emotions in a song. And then there’s the music. It’s soulful. It catches your attention and doesn’t let go, and then you realize you’re hooked… swimming in the messy emotions stirred up by her songs.

It’s like Ally McBeal’s “walking wounded” meets Breakfast at Tiffany’s meets Edward Scissorhands. Does that make sense? You’ve got these icons of heartbreak (in my head at least) of varying “personalities” --- the quirky, funny, self-deprecating, open, angry, and awkward to the classy, sad, ethereal, and hopeful to the gothic, haunting, magical, thought-provoking, and surreal --- and all of them are in this one person’s songs. It’s pretty impressive.

So, on a scale of one to Adele…? I’d say, Adele.

The Mystery of The Bobbsey Twins, Nancy Drew, and The Hardy Boys

I saw a set of Bobbsey Twins, Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books being sold at a second-hand bookstore. The sight of these old friends took me back many years ago.

I remember at around the age of 8 or 9, I fell in love with the hard-bound books of The Bobbsey Twins, Nancy Drew, and The Hardy Boys. I’d walk into the elementary school library --- which the school called the “Learning Resource Center” --- and checked out at least 2 of each kind. I thought Laura Lee Hope, Carolyn Keene, and Franklin W. Dixon were amazing authors and detectives themselves. I wanted to be Nan Bobbsey, but adored Freddie and Floss. I also wanted to be Nancy Drew and marry Joe Hardy. (Who cared about Ned Nickerson and Iola Morton?) Nancy and Joe were my fictional Ken and Barbie.
 
I went around with a checklist of book titles for each series and every time I borrowed from the library, I’d tick them off my list. If I went into a bookstore, I’d ask to be left there while the rest of the family went shopping. Knowing that I won’t be wandering around the mall or anywhere else, I’d be left in peace to prowl the aisles and search out my friends Bert, Nan, Freddie, and Floss; Nancy, Bess, and George; Frank, Joe, Chet, Phil, Biff, Jerry, and Tony.

I’d devour 6 to 10 books a week, replace my borrower’s card twice or thrice a year, and cajole or beg or bribe my parents for a new book every weekend. Such was my devotion to these fictional characters.

They opened the doorway to other writers of mystery and suspense, like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Agatha Christie, Baroness Orczy, Lemony Snicket, and a whole bunch of others.

Every time I cracked open a new mystery novel, whether it was a Bobbsey Twins or Nancey Drew or Hardy Boys adventure, I always mentally girded myself for the challenge of figuring out the perpetrator of the crime before the end of story. Many times I’d get it right, but on those occasions when I didn’t, I’d go back and look for what I missed. And then I’d contemplate a bit more on how cool these authors are to come up with these plots and weave them into a compelling tale that the clues are scattered within so subtly and seamlessly.

“I want to be able to do that,” I used to say to myself every time I finished a book.

So as I stared at these incomplete sets of hard-bound books from the first few volumes of each series, I asked myself, “How come I didn’t get to write those mystery books I told myself years ago?” I realized that I didn’t want to write the stories. I wanted to unravel the mysteries.

My musings stayed with me until I got to work where I quickly pulled up the ever-reliable know-it-all, Google, and keyed in the titles of each series.

Lo and behold! They were created, produced, and written by Edward Stratemeyer, founder of Stratemeyer Syndicate. (Well, he and a bunch of other ghostwriters wrote all the series.) I wanted to be upset, seeing as how my childhood heroes were actually a great many people. Definitely more than 3 authors. But then, I realize I’ve got only one real hero. His name is Edward Stratemeyer. The brains behind all the series --- and apparently the entire book packaging firm. (Thanks, Wikipedia!)

So, thank you, Edward Stratemeyer, for coming up with such wonderful characters I could admire and grow up with. They taught me a whole lot.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

               --- Invictus, William Ernest Henley

Invictus. Latin for unconquered.

To conquer. According to the Oxford dictionary, it is a verb that means to “overcome in war or by effort”. Its nearest synonyms are 'to crush' or 'to defeat'.

To conquer the known world. Many great men have such glories under their belts. Sargon. Xerxes. Alexander the Great. Ghengis Khan. Attila the Hun. Caesar Augustus. Napoleon Bonaparte.

They came. They saw. They conquered. Maybe Caesar should have said “I overcame. I oversaw. I conquered.”

Yet, the other side of the coin is to be unconquered. To prevail over adversity. To win. To be a victor. To triumph.

It is that which we all strive to do and to be. To conquer and to be unconquered. To triumph over adversity. To win. To be invictus.

That is what I am. Invictus. No matter what. No matter where or when. No matter how hard the world may press down. I am invictus. Bloody, but unbowed. Soul unconquered. Ever unconquerable.

Hoozaah!

Lovely start to my first draft of the speech I am writing for when I finally achieve world domination, don't you think?

Forgive me. I am trying to keep myself sane by amusing myself with thoughts of strategies for world domination.

While Jack Dawson from Titanic declared that he's “the king of the world” before promptly dying an hour or so later, I do believe I have a better strategy than standing at the prow of an ill-fated ship destined to (literally) go down in history as a symbol of the hubris of man.

Strategy one: Line up all stupid people, then start shooting. Pros: We rid the world of stupid people. Cons: I don't think the International Court of Justice would approve.

Scratch that.

Strategy two: Buy off all those who disagree with you. Pros: We can finally have proof that money can buy happiness. Cons: I will be flat broke, which would effectively bring me back to square one.

Scratch that.

Strategy three: Marry the most powerful man in the world. Pros: It will be an affirmation that behind every powerful man is an even more powerful woman. Cons: Who IS the most powerful man in the world anyway?

Scratch that. Too iffy.

Hmmm... It's becoming clear to me that there is no clear path to world domination. I must go back to my drawing board.

*Muttering to self* You are invictus! You are unconquerable! You must conquer! You must win! You must not give up! You are invictus!

Note to self: Must change medication.

Sticky note to self: This is what happens when you spend too much time staring at numbers.

On a final note to self: Must find Mr. Darcy soon or will run mad.

A - She's Adorable!

“To be loved, be lovable.”

                        --- Ovid, Ars Amatoria

I am in love with this little girl with bright eyes and a heartbreakingly beautiful smile. When I take her in my arms and embrace her, she feels so soft and warm and fragile. She smells like powder and milk and that lovely, undeniably baby smell. She loves to laugh and dance, especially when she hears and sees her favorite cartoon, Backyardigans. And when she cries, my heart breaks easily. Her copious tears stream down her face as she bawls and reaches out to anyone willing to hug her.

She isn’t mine, but she is ours.

At the early age of one and a half years, she has clearly entered somewhat prematurely into her terrible twos period. More precocious and naughty, she recites the alphabet completely and clearly... counts higher than ten... sings Backyardigan songs... recognizes Dora the Explorer... and can name at least ten capitals of the world, including the capital of Finland! (Helsinki, if you don't know it yet.) Her sentences are clear, her memory is excellent, and her sleeping habits are adorably funny.

Because of her, my sister and I find it difficult to even contemplate on leaving the country, whether to work, migrate, or even have an extended vacation, for fear that we would miss out on things she does as she grows up.

Clearly, she's got us wrapped around her dainty little fingers.

I am not one who is overly fond of children. In fact, my tolerance for kids is rather low. I am always relieved to return them to their rightful parents at the end of seemingly interminable three hours. That's my threshold. Three hours. Except for Andie.

With Andie, I can have her with me for as long as she wants. If she never wants to leave my side, I wouldn't mind, but I'm pretty sure my lovely brother and my wonderful sister-in-law would.

People have asked me if I want to have children of my own, and, believe me, I have thought and pondered on this life-altering question quite a bit. Despite the fact that I am probably past my ideal childbearing years (at 35, having your first baby would put you right smack on the endangered list) and the fact that I neither have husband nor boyfriend, having children is not something that I can actually plan for or consider at the moment. Of course, thanks to medical science, it is no longer impossible to have children beyond 35, but the truth is... I don't want one now. And I'm not sure I want one in the future. I'm not saying I'll never want one, but... hey, if Mr. Darcy comes along and sweeps me off my feet... why wouldn't I want his child? As it is... there's no Mr. Darcy for me... yet.

So, happily, I will take on the role of doting aunt to my lovely, wonderful, beautiful, precious niece.

(That word actually brings my dad's joke back into my memory... A woman gave birth to twins. The nurse comes out to inform her anxious husband who arrived late for the delivery. He asks, “What are their names?” The nurse replied, “Oh, your brother named your daughter 'Denise'. The husband was quite relieved, saying, “Whew! I was worried for a while there. My brother has an awful sense of humor. What did he name my son?” And the nurse answered, “Oh, 'Denephew'.”)

I know the joke sucks, but you'll have to forgive me. My brother did name his daughter 'Andrea Denise'.

She Will Be Missed

Many that live deserve death. And some die that deserve life.

    -- J.R. Tolkien, Lord of the Rings, Bk 4 Ch 1

    I lost an excellent team member last week. She and I may not have a deep friendship, but as her manager, we did have a very good, cordial, and strong relationship. She and I have taken time to speak with each other. I've listened to her talk about her hopes and her plans, both professionally and personally. She was a very good person and it is a shame to have lost her so soon.

    Death touches us, whether we knew the person well or not. The fact that you were, at the very least, acquainted with each other will affect you. What more if you worked closely together for a year?

    I hope I was a good manager to her. I hope she enjoyed her time in our company, within our team. I hope she had the chance to fulfill most of her dreams. I hope she had the opportunity to have a grand adventure. I wish we had a chance to say good bye. And I wish, no matter how briefly, she was able to find her own Mr. Darcy.

    I'm glad that she is now at peace and no longer suffering. And while that previous line may sound trite and cliché, I find no other words to find comfort in.

    I still stop and think of her in the middle of the mundane tasks that occupy my everyday responsibilities. I remember her smile and her laughter. I remember the way she spoke of her learners. Best of all, I remember her courage even in the midst of her disease. I admired her for it. I respected her all the more. She was not one who gave up easily. She was not one who caved in to staggering and overwhelming depression. She did what she felt she had to do and what she wanted to do. She lived.

    The world lost someone beautiful that day. But we will always remember. We will always be thankful for the brief time she was in our lives.

Shimmy, Shiny, Sunny

I want to shimmer, I want to shine
I want to radiate
I want to live, I want to love
I want to try to learn not to hate

                                                -- Shimmer,Shawn Mullins

    It's been awhile since I last uploaded anything in my blog. Call it writer's block or having a dry spell. Either way, you'd be right. This is me making the effort to get out of this funk. So, to all those who sent me emails, MSN messages, and SMS messages asking, encouraging, threatening me just to get me to start writing again... Funk you very much. This one's for you.

    A couple of months ago, I idly watched as my birthday slowly crept by, passing me like some sort of shadow on a nice Indian summer kind of day. I wanted to do something special like maybe throw a really fun party with this great theme and lots of heavenly food. Aside from the fact that I was too lazy to get off my arse and start planning, I was also being a bit of a scrooge. [Hey, go back and read one or two blog entries past and you'll know why I'm a bit of penny pincher nowadays. This is a direct consequence of my memorable shopping binge.] Suffice to say, nothing happened on my birthday except that it did pass. Unlike me, my birthdays tend to go gently into that good night.

    A month a ago, I sat terrified as I watched my mom struggle to overcome a sudden onset of diabetes. Given the fact that diabetes is generally an hereditary disease and the fact that we don't have a history of it in our family, this was a great surprise for us. According to the doctor, a candida bacteria attacked her blood or something like that, which caused her blood sugar to suddenly surge to 400. Don't ask me what it was exactly because I hardly registered a thing. All I knew was that my mom was ill and I saw the terror in her eyes as she fought to control the violent chills her body was unable to prevent.

    As the eldest in our rowdy brood, I felt most responsible for settling all necessary details related to our sojourn in the hospital, from finances to logistics. I must say, hospital bills are nothing compared to the maintenance medication.

    A week after my mom's hospital confinement, it was my dad's turn to undergo laser eye surgery. His second. It makes me wonder how he actually managed to get his retina to disengage and separate from whatever eye part it is attached to.

    Holy Week passed by silently and unobtrusively as my birthday did. Both times I was working. The only difference is that I managed to get into a rather interesting email exchange that ruffled my feathers, raised my shackles, and got my dander up. I must have looked like a strange mutated animal then. Ah well... I know I made my point and I did it with great aplomb and a whole lot of civility. As much as I can muster anyway.

    I've been meaning to make use of this hardbound journal given to me as a gift by one of my dearest fiends (who is now probably enjoying her stint as a shepherd in the land of Aragorn and the Hobbits) for Christmas. I haven't gotten around to it yet. Mainly because I haven't felt like picking up a pen from the bookstore just yet.

    I have two editors from two different magazines running after me while I run after their deadlines. So far, I've managed to finish the race, albeit not exactly setting speed records. Interesting relay, don't you think?

    Now I just feel like I'm in dire need of a nice long break. I hear the surf breaks up north are great at this time of year. Hmmm... those couple of long weekends coming up sure are making me smile a little bit wider now.

    The first quarter of the year is over. I still have several months to make sure that this year shimmers, shines, and radiates with love and life for me. It's time to get off my lazy fat arse and start dancing the fandango to a fantabulous and abso-bloody-lutely fantasmagorical mid-thirties.

Talking in the Dark

When we were growing up, my sister and I shared a room. I recall many nights where we would lie there in the dark and talk about different things, mostly stuff that were on our minds. I have to admit that I was not the best sister when it came to these talks, being rather somewhat impatient and in a hurry to get to the heart of whatever it was my sister wanted to share. I was always a blunt and straightforward person even when it came to telling stories. I preferred keeping things short and simple. My sister, on the other hand, prefers to tell her stories like an epic poem --- full of background information given in the minutest of details. I'm sure there were times when I fell into a stupor or made impatient snorts. But, truth be told, I treasure these moments with my sister. We didn't always get along, but we both know without a doubt that we share a fierce love for one another.

Over the holidays, my sister and I had another chance to have one of those late night tête-à-têtes. It was probably the most interesting and most memorable ones we've had. What made it different and memorable was that this time I felt that we were talking to each other not just like sisters ought, but like women and best friends. She was willing to listen to what I had to say. In fact, she wanted to hear and sought out my answers to her questions. I, on the other hand, was more willing to share and elaborate on my answers.

She asked me only two questions: “What are the top three things you have learned about guys?” and “What are the top three things you have learned about relationships?”

In no particular order and from the top of my head, I answered.

Three things I learned about guys:

1. They are not mind readers. Just like women cannot possible know exactly what a guy thinks, it is even more impossible for a guy to know (or even understand) the way a woman's mind works. Tell him. He cannot read your mind and mind-games will only make things worse. They'd appreciate it more if you told them what you think, how you feel, and what you want. They can't keep guessing and messing up all the time. They won't get it right and you can't expect them to.

2. Always take care of a guy's ego. Sometimes you'll need to shake them up and swat them down a bit just so they don't get too full of themselves, but in general, you'll have to be mindful of their very sensitive egos. If there was anything more fragile in a guy's make up, I'd say it would be this.

3. It takes them awhile to realize that they actually do like you. And I'm not just talking about the initial rush of attraction. I'm talking about the reality of liking you as a person and seeing you as someone he can actually commit to being in an exclusive relationship with. It's not because they're wishy-washy about you. It's more about a guy not really being quite sure about himself and about what he wants. After all, women have to understand that by nature guys are generally less inclined to commit themselves to a monogamous and serious relationship. The thought of that alone can turn any healthy and emotionally stable male into a blundering, claustrophobic bundle of nerves. So, be patient. If you find yourself surer of him than he is of you, don't worry and don't rush. He'll get there. And oftentimes it's worth the wait.

Three things I learned about relationships:

1. You get as much as you put in. If you invest a lot of yourself in your relationship, then you can expect greater rewards. If you hold back a large chunk of yourself, then you won't grow in the relationship. You won't find out who you are and who you can be. Relationships shouldn't hinder one from being who he or she is. Relationships are supposed to make you better. So if you hide who you are, especially in a relationship, then everything you have are just artificial. Even artificial growth in economics is liable to collapse if not backed up by solid investments and economic policies. The same way it is in relationships. No one can tell you when you've invested enough. Only you can determine that. But then again, what is “enough”?

2. A relationship is hard work. Just like I said about getting as much as you put in, I also say that when you do decide to invest, you will find that making your investment grow is hard work. It's about striking the balance and working hard at making it work. However, I do have to say that a relationship being hard work does not necessarily preclude that it has to feel like it's hard work. You work hard at making your relationship fly. You expend a whole lot of energy just to lift off and to stay up in the air, but it doesn't mean you can't enjoy the flight. It's a glorious feeling, isn't it?

3. Relationships require trust. Just like in flight, you need to trust that you will hold each other up. Just like the bird trusts the wind and his wings to make him fly, both of you should trust each other enough to let the other fly high on his or her own wings and power. But you should also know and be secure that the other is right there flying beside you. Without trust there is no relationship.

That night --- the evening of New Year's Day 2008 --- I shared my thoughts and answered my sister's questions. And as I lay there on her huge bed, I wonder about how lucky she is to have already found her own Mr. Darcy. Maybe all those talks we had growing up helped her somewhat. It's a comforting thought. Maybe soon we can have another sleepover and I can ask her those same questions and hear her answers. I think I'd like what she has to say. After all, my little sister seems to have grown up at last.