Today I learn that happiness is a state of mind, that friendships are nurtured over time, that while love does not always beget love, it's still worth it, oh yes it is. Now I know that while I might not get everything I want but I will always get everything I really need. Most importantly, for those who can't choose me (and I'm not referring to the usual suspects this time), I resolve not to linger or try to make it real.

I am blessed. I am loved. I am Golden.

Thank you dear Jesus, Santi, mom, boy P., siblings, friends and most especially sofia, for lighting up my life and allowing me to live it without a single regret.

fabulous...

with my wingman C


girls just wanna have fun

thanks for everything, B!

Minz is: content

I'm thinking of catching Alicia Keys live next month. can't get this song out of my head, damn!!!

No one, no one, No waaaaaaan!!! ah ah ah ah!






So C, what do you think?

Currently listening to: Alicia Keys--"No one"

So we're all set to move to our six-months-in-the-making condo and we are having a difficult time leaving my parents' house. Half of me can't wait to finally be on my own, the other half can't seem to accept that I'm leaving the only home I've ever known. But I can't imagine how it must be my folks who have raised Sofia the past three years. My mom is showing signs  separation anxiety--hugging and playing with her almost all day, taking her to the palengke, parlor, modista, talyer, what have you. Yesterday, she ordered the nanny to bring Iya home--to her house and not anywhere else. To my mind, they probably won't mind kicking me out of it if only I'd leave the little tyke behind. (something tells me that they will miss my renegade ways, however).

Having said that though, I realized that it still falls hardest on me--considering that I've always wanted my own place and all the liberty that it promised. I hated driving home to Alabang coming from kyusi (my place to be), the toll fees I had to pay, the feeling that I live in the bundok while the rest of of my friends needed just to step out of their bakod to find each other. I long wanted to be free (for lack of a better word, ha).

At this point thoiugh, I'm not sure anymore why it took us this long to make this move. Was it just because the condo took long to renovate or was it just me? I never had to pack everything in boxes knowing full well that I wasn't going to be returning to Concha Cruz. It was always a move to a new dorm near school or a long vacation in the States. Moving out as in out of our house and not being back for weekends is all too alien for me. I guess, much as I never acknowledged it, I loved my home and our life in it. My Mom's obsessive-compulsive rules, my brother's rotten moods on top of my sister's, my dad's curfews, our addiction to eating and eating out. Our mellow-dramatic fights. Our uncanny ways of showing affection. Even our lazy-ass shitzu, Cocoy. 

Now that I got little family of my own, more than ever, I realize that you only really got one family. And in my heart, I'll be taking this family and our little house in Concha Cruz with me, into this new place I'm building with Santi so that I never truly have to leave home ever.   

Just when I was about to get sucked (yet again) in  a quagmire of hurt-feelings, I was lifted out of it by an emergency call for blood. Literally. My friend on the other line needed donors for her sister confined at the Heart Center. Two quick thoughts flew by me: Am I allowed to donate bearing in mind the 16-year old rose tat I got on my shoulder? Two, will I survive the sight of a half-foot needle? It was only then that I came to think of my friend's sister (whom I've never met) and what it must be like for her. I wasn't even able to ask what brought her in the hospital in the first place. Or if it's a life or death thing. I haven't had any of those in my 31 years Nor would I want to. It was at this point (between the half-foot needle and my rose tat) that I had a eureka moment.

Curt Schilling was right.

My Yankee world will probably demand for my blood  hearing me say that a Red sox pitcher is ever right about anything. But the man hit the nail on the head. Faced with a career ending surgery that could very well prevent him from doing what he loves most in life, here is what he's got to say in his blog:

"I have not one single, solitary thing in any way, shape or form to be unhappy about. There is a world full of people suffering far worse than my shoulder, not to mention I've been given and been blessed with far more than any one person deserves, far more."

I must say that a Red Sox pitcher put me to shame this time but I thank him anyway for putting things into perspective.

Really, his shoulder is even worse than me counting the people who didn't show up for my birthday. Or those who totally forgot. (One I even had to text so she can greet me, take that) Or that one person who never remembers (or WISHES he doesn't remember) but continue to bug me the rest of the year anyway. I've put them all into place--which is out of my phonebook and out of my life. That was my suffering, thank you very much.

I don't feel bad anymore. At all. Because they are not my life or death. Never were. Never will be.

Meanwhile, I've pints of blood to give.

And a blog to advertise, http://38pitches.com/.

 

    

 

 

I've to say, outside the birth of Sofia and passing the bar, this is the proudest moment of my life.

Minz is: overjoyed