This too shall pass....I need to calm down.

I find that it's hard to control myself from crying, when the tears seem to have a mind of their own. And especially when you're in a public place.

A few weeks ago, I had to go to the hospital again. It's always a mental struggle for me when I have to do so. I try my best to be a good sport about it, but I always end up crying, out of frustration and anger. Its not a nice feeling to be helpless and be at the mercy of people, of whom I'm not so sure, if they know what they're doing ( like the ER doctor that said, "I don't know" after she take a look of my messed up arm with the PICC line ). I have nothing personal against hospitals but  it makes me  angry and desperately wanted to punch anyone in the face, whenever I have to go there and someone  tells me "It's just a simple procedure. You'll be fine."

I have been very patient and try to be okay, since I found out about my situation. But sometimes, I am fed up with it despite my prayers to have peace of mind. I started to think, what's the point of going through all the trouble and inconvenienced others in the process. Frankly, I am an inconvenience now. The people who cares about me can't make plans, without having to consider my situation. And I don't like to make plans anymore because I end up more frustrated if they don't pan out because something come up.

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." - Albert Einstein 

My life now, consists of a cycle of "good" days and "not-so-good" days. Of course, I need not dwell on that fact or else I'd end up unhappy and miserable. So, on my good days, I try to take it all in and revel in the moment---the scenic walk around Westwood Lake; being able to watch the sunrise; the feel of the book in my hands, while reading; the taste of coffee; the chance to hang out with family and all the things I get to enjoy each day that I'm still here. I try to remember them all because unfortunately, nothing lasts forever, especially the good stuff. On the other hand, when I have a not-so-good day, like when I had to do blood work more than once in one day or that time when I had to go to the hospital because I had a fever--- I steel myself  and go ahead with it, no matter what I feel. Whenever I'm in a situation where I have to endure physical pain and my mind have to work double time to come up with a lot of "what ifs" or "what can go wrong" scenarios, I can't help but sometimes, think of running away and just disappear, until I'm good to come back. But the thing is, I can't work up the courage to just do that, I mean, you know, run away. So, I stay. I put on a brave front and forge ahead, bearing in mind, that "this too shall pass".  And hoping that it does.

I am never really alone. I'm thankful for my sister, Mama and Rhea. 

Sometimes, I think about, how long can I keep this up? How long can my body keep up? And I'm not saying this because I'm being whiny or something. I just wonder if, when I get to the point where I'm tired of going through all these procedures and I decides that, I'm done with it. Will it be construed that I  give up already. I admit it, I often wonder what will be the end for me and I feel sad. Then I noticed the brown leaves on our driveway; the leafless trees along the way, when we went for a drive; the biting cold against my face, while I wait for the sunrise. Then it came to me, fall is here ( and eventually, winter ) and I'm still here, breathing and alive. Then I'm happy again.

Am I still grateful, you might ask? Hard to believe but I still am. I'm not thankful that I have cancer. But I'm thankful that I'm still here. I'm still thankful despite the frustrations, bursts of anger, uncertainties and the  sadness (  that suddenly just come out of nowhere). As a line from the movie goes, "I'm fine until I'm not. That's all there is to it." So, I will continue to go on about my day. I will treasure every "good" day and try to survive a "not-so-good" one. And look forward to Christmas, on the side. 😊

"Being grateful does not mean that everything is necessarily good. It just means that you can accept it as a gift." - Roy T. Bennett

Confession of a "night shifter".

I'm not averse to hard labor. I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I work hard for everything I ever wanted or want to achieve. I don't have the luxury of just flicking my fingers, then  lo and behold, whatever my heart desires, will suddenly materialize from thin air. I don't have wealthy parents whom will provide for me when I get in a bind. Come to think of it, it's the other way around. My sister and I provide for our family  since we start working.

I haven't had the slightest inkling that I'd find myself working in healthcare. I defied my aunt's wishes for me to take up nursing after I finished high school because I knew I won't be up for it. The sight of blood and that distinct smell of hospitals makes me sick. Besides, I don't have people skills. Little did I know, that I'd end up working in these places ( sort of ) and with nurses.

When I came to Canada, I started working as a live-in caregiver. At first, I was lost and didn't know about what it is to be a caregiver. I didn't know what it is to care for another person. Fortunately, the people I worked for were very kind and generous to me. They made it easier for me to do my work.  I had the privilege to look after three wonderful, elderly women who were very kind and good to me. In return for my service, aside from getting paid, they taught me things that I would never have learn or knew about if I hadn't work for them. Their families were so welcoming and generous to me too.

I remembered a few years back, I wrote something about my feelings and thoughts on being a live-in caregiver. About my fears and reservations of caring for someone vulnerable and dependent on me. And it helped me, in some ways, to cope. And now that I work as a care aide, I have reservations and conflicting feelings too. And more so because now, I must deal with a lot of  people.

Pretty much sums up why I prefer night shift. 😃

In my current line of work, we go by different names, RCA or resident care aide; healthcare assistant or HCA or simply, care aide. When someone ask me what I do, I simply said that I work in a facility, which is kind of broad or confusing, perhaps. But where I work at, the term denotes a place where elderly people ( and some not that old ) live. Their last stop before they kick the bucket, so to speak. I did try to work in a hospital but too much noise and  trying to get along with a lot of people is exhausting.

I have work in different shifts--- days, evenings and nights. Surprisingly, I find that working night shifts suited me well. I say surprisingly because I am a morning person. I used to be a stickler for going to bed early and up early the next morning. But since I decided that I prefer working nights, my sleep routine changes. There are days that I'm in bed for the most part of the day, trying to sleep, because it's either I just got off work the previous night or I have to work later at night. And its a bit difficult to sleep during the day when its all sunny out there. I've read about the downsides of working nights and sleep deprivation, health wise. I feel it, especially after I work six nights straight. Sleep deprivation and some say, the lack of a social life are the reasons that most people don't like to work nights. I don't have a social life so this is not a big deal for me.

While some people cringed and abhor the thought of doing a night shift or actually doing one, I welcome it, of course, with a good dose of qualms and reservations. Who love to go out and drive at night, just to go to work? I'm pretty sure, no one does, at least not by choice. I don't like to drive at night especially on a Friday night but I do it anyway.  So, why do it?  That's a good question. The thing is I don't like doing a night shift per se, but I prefer it compared to doing a day or evening shift. My sister always joked about why I prefer it, because according to her I'm afraid of people. I'm not afraid of them, I just don't want to be around them for a long period of time. And 8 hours is a long time. There's too much that goes on during the day and lots of people to work with.  A lot of "people drama" happens  and its something I don't want to get into. All I want is to work within that 8-hour window, as expected of me and after that, I go home.

There are people who thinks that night shift workers have it easy, that they just sleep through the night doing the least amount of work. Well, I'd like to see these people try work one, especially on a full moon. Then I'd be happy to hear to what they have to say. So far, I like the people I work with during night shifts, except for a few, who acts like they're ready to lie in bed and sleep rather than work or those who pick up overtime and acts like they're doing you a favor by staying the night. In my mind, I'm like, go home.

I get questions like, "So, you like working night shifts?" or "You only work nights?" to which I always reply with a slight nod and a shrug. With night shift, I only have to deal with a few people, primarily my partner and the charge nurse. And of course, the residents, whom ideally should be sleeping. But on some nights and for a lot of different reasons, they don't sleep. Some would want to get up, thinking its already morning. And if something major happens, there's only a few staff to deal with it, so you see, night shift people don't have it easy.

I'm not going to lie and say I'm crazy about my job. But I'm thankful for it. And the only way I can show this is to work in the the best way possible. Hence, I prefer nights. 😃

What I think about, now that I'm 40. And what I learned, so far.

"You're only young once, they say, but doesn't it go for a long time? More years than you can bear." - Hilary Mantel, An Experiment in Love

I turned 40  months ago, days leading to it, I search online for things to do to mark my 40^th birthday. A party is out of the question. I mean, a party involves a lot of people. Other interesting stuff were mentioned, like jumping out of a plane for one or go somewhere secluded and spend the day by yourself. Things I’m not too keen on doing at that time. My birthday falls on a Monday and it was just like any ordinary day. My sister bought balloons with the words “Happy 40^th Birthday!”. I repeatedly told her, it was just a waste of money, much to her annoyance. Then we had breakfast at a local cafe near our place and went for a short walk around the lake. The walk was my favorite part of the day. I thought about having a drink at the end of the day, then remembered that I have to go to work later that night. So much for my 40^th.

 I remembered someone told me, that she went all out when she turned 40. Frankly, I didn’t know what she meant. Age is just a number, I know, but somehow it implies a lot of things. Someone asked me how I feel now that I’m 40. I replied that I don’t feel anything. Not entirely true, I suppose. On some days I can feel my back, when I get out of bed. Other times, my knees make this sound, when I hurry down the stairs. For me, nothing has changed, except for the fact that I’m 40 and the weight on my shoulders has gotten heavier.

I’ve heard the line that says, life begins at 40 or something like that. If that’s the case, what was the last 39 years of my life amount to? I have no idea. I thought about writing this post because I find that now I’m older, I tend to do a lot of thinking about things in general. I’ve been told that I think too much, to a fault. I mean, I even complicate a simple matter by thinking too much about it. My sister point this out to me all the time. So, if you don’t mind, allow me to share my thoughts on random things, from a 40-year old’s point of view. So, here goes my spiel.

My sister will be my go-to companion, until, she go on one of her "hush. hush" getaways. 

On Family: It’s funny and weird, how when I was younger, I wish that I belong in a different family. I wish that I had the perfect parents and siblings. As I get older, I realized that part of who I am today is attributed to my family.  No amount of success will mean anything to me if I can’t share it with them.

On Work: Someone at work made a comment that I’m an eager-beaver because I arrive half an hour early before the start of my shift. She made it sound like it’s such a bad thing that I am early. I dismissed her comment with a shrug. My sister even told me that no one will give me a medal for being punctual at work. I guess the norm for most people is to arrive at work with 5 minutes to spare, half-awake (during mornings) and drag their feet, because they’d rather be somewhere else. I don’t profess to be crazy about my job but I do it in a way that is expected of me. I believe in going the extra mile even if nobody cares if I do.

"Sometimes the highest test of humanity is what we hold ourselves back from doing when every fiber in our body wants to do something else."- Mitch Albom

 On Friends: I don’t have a lot of friends. I have acquaintances, mostly by association. When I first came to Canada seven years ago, I’ve been told that I won’t survive alone. Scary predicament, I thought. Fortunately, I have my sister here, she’s obligated to be friends with me, whether she like it or not. But even then, I need to “get away” from her, from time to time. I am privilege and fortunate to have met people that have been very good and kind to me. People who understands that tiny detail about me---just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I don’t have anything to say about things. People who believe that I’m capable of doing something worthwhile and help me achieve it. People who wants me around, just because.

On driving: I’ve been driving for the past two years and I can’t say, I like it very much. I do it out of necessity when I must go to work but other than that, I’d rather stay put. It didn’t help when I got pulled over once, for running through a yellow light. Sure, there’s the thing about being independent and all. And that’s it. I still want to be on  the passenger seat, once in awhile and be alone with my thoughts.

On death: My first experience with death was when my grandmother passed away, and I was old enough to understand what happened. I have had a few people I care about, passed away. And I know  that death is inevitable, still, it saddened me to think that I won't see them again. That all I have are memories.

On children: I don’t have children of my own but I’m cool with hanging out with them, from time to time. I like children but I don't think I'm responsible enough to have them.

"Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love." - Rumi

I like to think that I learned a thing or two since I came to this world. I used to wonder why my mother didn't impose rules on me while growing up. When I confronted her about this, she replied, "I know you'd always do the right thing.",with an expression, that said, how can you ask me that. 

I find that dreams do come true. It did not happen overnight for me but when it did, the feeling was surreal and left me speechless, except to say, "This is awesome."  I can't take all the credit for the past 40 years. It is evident that I have some help and someone is looking out for me. And for that I am always thankful.

Being a grown up and a responsible adult is hard work. A lot of times I have to make compromises just to fit in. I used to tell myself that I don't really care what people say or think about me. But the thing is, I do. And doing the right thing, sometimes, go against, what I believe is right. But hey, I'm still here, so I guess, I'm figuring things as I go along.

So anyway, I'll end this post with my hopes for the years to come, God willing, I'm still around....

• Good health for my family and friends.
• The means and willingness to provide for my family.
• To be always grateful, no matter what.
• To 'don't sweat the small stuff".
• To run again. Hopefully.

This is 40 bucket list.

Turning a year older is a milestone. I mean, not all will get the privilege to do that. So, it got me thinking because in a few months time, God willing, I will turn 40.

"One day you will wake up and there won't be any more time to do the things you've always wanted. Do it now." - Paulo Coelho

One day, I had lunch with a friend, of whom I haven't seen in a long time. After we updated each other about our lives, she asked me, "So, what do you do for yourself?". It took me awhile to answer her, partly because I don't know what to say. I haven't been ask that question before. Eventually, I said I go to work and hang out with my sister. And she was like, no, not that. Her query added more sense ( I hope ! ) to what I plan to do.

So anyway, here goes my list:

• Go for a long walk.

• Try yoga.

• Get inked.

• Cut my hair short, like really, really short.

• Relive Harry Potter. This means I have to read all seven books, again.

I thought about keeping this list to myself. I could have easily write it down on  a piece of paper and forget about it. And not tell anyone about it. That way, no one will know if did it or not. I decided to put this on my blog so you, my readers ( you know who you are ) will hold me accountable. And perhaps, putting this out there will motivate me to really do them. Of course, the above-mentioned items are not a matter of life and death. In the grand scheme of things, they are irrelevant.  I thought that the added pressure will come in handy when I start to procrastinate, which I'm fond of doing lately.

We'll see how this goes.

Night life?...What night life?

I mentioned before how driving a car is by far, one of the most grown up thing I've ever done in my life. Showing up for work and staying till my shift is over is another grown up thing I'm doing right now.

I'm a morning person. I love to get up early, especially if I don't have to go anywhere. My grandmother used to tell me that it's best to get out of bed before the sun is up. Somehow, that idea stayed with me. I don't sleep in, unless I force myself to do so or if I'm really, really tired. I get up the same time everyday regardless of what time I go to bed the previous night.

When I start working, it's clear to me that I'll work a night shift eventually. It's inevitable. At first, I'm wary of doing it. I don't go out at night. I'm usually in bed by 10 or 11 at the latest. To stay awake the whole night is a stretch for me. And I find it hard and a struggle to nap during the day. So, why do it? Well, for starters, I'm a newbie so I need to build my seniority, that means picking up any shifts available, to accumulate hours ( of which, I am repeatedly told to do so!) Then there's the part of earning a living.

This I find to be true.

So anyway, I did get called to do a night shift. I'm sort of on call at three different places, so whoever calls me first, gets my undivided attention. I still find it strange to be driving at night to go to work, when I could have been in bed already. My brain has to adjust to the fact that I need to stay awake for the next eight hours. At this point, I try not to think about the scary movies I've watched before or else.

I'm not sure if I can call it a blessing to be able to work a night shift at three different places. But I think it's a rare thing, to be able to do so. Let's just say, it's a blessing then. :-)

I did a few nights in a hospital, where all I have to do is watch this particular patient sleep through the night. They call this a 1 to 1. So I sit on a chair and watch this patient. Occasionally they try to get out of bed so I have to tell them to go back to sleep or sometimes, they need to go to the bathroom. I have to assist them, make sure they don't fall. It wasn't a physically exhausting job but it felt like a torture, you know, sitting there, fighting off sleep. By the time I go for my break, I'm ready to crash and sleep.

On occasions, I do night shifts on a resident care facility. Usually when this happen,  I get called with a few hours to spare, to have a nap before I start at 11. With this one, I feel like, I and my co-workers are  always on the go, except during our breaks. Sometimes, I remind myself that I work in a resident facility for elderly people,  not on an assembly line of a factory, with dubious nature. After my 8-hour shift, I drive home exhausted and ready for bed.

I did a stint of straight five night shifts at another resident care facility. I work with a partner and we take turns in taking our breaks. We do rounds and make sure every resident is in bed and check if they're still breathing and all. There's really no time to be sleepy, in between doing paperwork and answering an occasional call bell. On a busy night, two or more call bells will ring at the same time. On top of that, a bed alarm goes off, which means that someone is trying to get out of bed. I pray that this won't happen  when my partner is on her/his break. By the time four o'clock roll around, my eyes feel heavy and I could have fallen asleep if I close them, even for like a few seconds.

Exactly, until I realized that I still have a couple more nights to do.

What I'm trying to say is that wherever I work a night shift, it all boils down to the same thing, I am sleep-deprived but I also get paid more. ( Which I think doesn't really matter when I look at the deductions reflected on my paycheck. ) People who choose to work at night have different reasons for doing so. As for me, I haven't thought about it until now. A few years ago, I wouldn't have imagine myself staying up the whole night to work.

When someone asked me what I think about working nights, I replied that, "It's alright, besides I don't have to deal with a lot of people." It's true, by the way. I mean, the part about not dealing with a lot of people.  I'm not saying that I dislike people. The thing is, there is blissful silence at night, except for the hum of the radiator or the sound of the call bell. I'm spared from having to make small talk. Of course, I do talk. I have to convey information to the nurse or to my co-worker. I also has to communicate with residents. But that's about it. One day, while in the staff room, one co-worker said to me, "You're so quiet, I don't know anything about you." I looked at her, smiled and continued on with my lunch. But in my mind, I was like, "You're not supposed to know anything about me. I'm just here to work." 

So, there you go. The story of my night life.

Musings on my birthday... so, this is 39.

It's  that time of the year, again. And no, I'm not talking about Christmas. It's still too far ahead to talk about, mind you. Although I started seeing ads on TV about the holidays and all. The pressing matter at hand is that we're towards the end with the month of November. And it so happened that it's my birth month. I don't  usually get excited about my birthday. Growing up, my family didn't celebrate birthdays. It's like, so you're a year older, big deal. The only thing we did or was expected of us, was go to church and lit some candles. I even have to remind my mother that it's my birthday.

For some people, turning a year older is something they don't look forward to. I mean,who wants to get old? If we can get away with it, we'd rather stay forever young.

"Let us never know what old age is. Let us know the happiness time brings, not count the years."- Ausonius

As the years passed, I started to have this feeling of excitement and anticipation when my birthday comes up. Turning a year older is an opportunity I gladly embrace with gratitude. I don't really think about my age because it's just a number. Besides, I can still get away with not looking it. Proof of that, just recently, I went to my favorite store ( as my sister calls it ). After I grab a bottle of my favorite white wine and a pack of Smirnoff Ice vodka, I walk over to the till to pay. The guy, in the counter, while helping another customer, look at me. "Can I see some ID, young lady?" were his first words when I placed my stuff in front of him. I fiddled with my wallet and took out my driver's license and handed it to him. The cashier took a close look at it to check my date of birth, I assumed. I assured him that I'm old. And he was like, does this happen to you all the time. I hesitated and replied, "Sometimes." "Always", my sister piped in.

I'm thankful that I'm here for another year. To still get to do the things I love and to be with the people I care about is the best gift I'll ever have. Sure, I pine  for things and what not, I'm human after all. I used to write a "shameless plug" weeks before my birthday solely for my sister's benefit. So she wouldn't have a hard time in deciding what to get me for my birthday. But eventually,  I got tired of doing it. The main thing is I'm still around.

"I'm just so grateful, because to feel this vulnerable means I'm alive. I'm enough."- Brene Brown

I don't feel any different. I know, 39 seemed like pretty old. Like you're expected to be married and have children. When I get asked how old I am and if I'm married and have children, I politely replied "No" to both questions. And always my answers would draw more follow-up questions, most common is "why?".  Last year, I went back home for a short visit, a friend told me that I've changed. I was like, no, I didn't. I don't know exactly what she meant by it because I'm still the same person as before. Perhaps I have change in some ways but only to adapt myself to where I am right now. I'm still the same person who don't  say much unless there's a purpose or point in a conversation. I still believe in being on time and not keep people waiting, like I'm some VIP.

Its funny how people try to pin you down in to a  category or something. And if they can't figure you out, they'll tell you what to do. I've been told to "color your hair" or  "go out and met people" or talk.  I get that I'm different and probably for some, weird. To the few people who accepts and tolerates my quirks, thank you. :-)

Before I end this post, allow me to share my hopes for the years to come. So here goes...

•  Good health for my family and friends. 
•  The means and willingness to provide for my family. ( because "You don't love your family because they're kind and considerate. You love them because they're your family." - Fall of Giants  )
•   To be always grateful.
•   To "don't sweat the small stuff" 
•   To run again. I'm hoping I can run another marathon before I reach 40. 
•   My jar of coins to fill up so I can go to New York.

Thank you for all the birthday wishes. :-)

Living with my sister-- the story of our life.

My sister and I come from a big family. There's always noise and chaos. Disagreements and fights were the norm. We practically grew up together. The only time we were apart was when I moved to another city to go to  school. And when she moved to Canada. As luck would have it, four years later, I followed her. I like to think that we're meant to be together in a strange and foreign country. At first, we lived in different places  and only get to hang out during our days off. Back then, we always had this plan to get our own place and live together.

"It's hard to be responsible, adult and sensible all the time. How good it is to have a sister  whose heart is as young as your own." - Pam Brown

Since I moved in with my sister, I have been relegated to certain chores. Of course, we don't need to put it down on paper because we're adults now. I mean, how hard that can be. I am assigned to take out the garbage every week, which I do diligently. The only time my sister has to do it is when I'm not around. I'm responsible for cleaning up after her when she  makes a mess in the kitchen while she cooks. Frankly, I don't mind doing the dishes because I like to do it. Besides, I can't stand dirty stuff left on the kitchen sink for too long. The only downside to this is I get "obsessed" ( as she calls it ) with cleaning up after her, that one time, while she was busy cooking something, I washed a spoon or a dish, only to realized that she still has to used it. She was annoyed and told me to go sit on the couch and watched TV. Like I was an errant child.

My sister and I are opposites. I think it's one of the reasons we get along fine.

I learned how to use a hammer and a screwdriver, not that they're hard to learn. Over the course of a few months, I managed to assemble our tiny dining set ( you know, table and chairs ) and a TV stand, while my sister stood by and gave me directions, from time to time. It took a lot of effort and patience on my part to read the diagram on the small piece of paper that came with all the parts. I blurted a few expletives when I screwed a part the wrong way and had to take them apart again. Fortunately, our friend, Rhea was there to help. If it was just me and my sister, we probably end up punching each other. But I have to say this,  I was quite happy with myself, when I looked at the assembled TV stand and dining set.

"Of two sisters one is always the watcher, one the dancer." - Louise Gluck

We make compromises when we decided to live together. We don't always agree on things. I make it a point to go to bed early especially if I have to work the next day, while my sister on the other hand, like to stay up late, even if she has to get up early the next day. I'm a morning person. I love to get up when its still dark outside ( especially if I don't have to go to work ) and sit in my corner, with a book and coffee. This does not escape my sister's attention and she told me more than once that I'm insane.

My sister and I are different as night and day. She is sophisticated and fashionable dressed, most of the time, while I on the other hand, is the exact opposite. We don't have the perfect relationship. We both have shortcomings and make mistakes. We argue sometimes, about anything---from her taking too long to put on make-up to my unusual ( according to her ) rule of being at work half an hour early. I'm sure she gets angry at me, as I do with her. But the thing is, we don't hold a grudge. And most of the time, we just laugh off at anything, that may have previously annoy us.

Living with my sister may have its ups and downs. But so far, so good. :-)

A big kid's tale.

Life begins at 40. Or so they say. If that's the case, then I have to wait a year or so. God willing, I'll live that long. Not that I worry about getting older or about my age.

From what I gather along the way, life began when I decided to "grow up". And I don't mean just physically, because in this part, I don't get to decide. Life began when I realize that even if I don't have the life I imagine or dream of, it's not the end of the world for me. That whenever I'm dealt with the wrong cards, it doesn't mean that life is not fair. To be a grown up means having the courage to own up my mistakes and take responsibility for my actions. That whenever I face hardships, it is okay to feel frustrated  and feel like throwing in the towel but still find ways to forge ahead. All of these is part of being alive. Life will be so boring if it's just easy all the time.

I believe life is made unpredictable and mysterious, not to mention difficult at times, in order for me to learn valuable lessons that may come useful and handy, when the going gets rough.  As the saying goes, "what doesn't kill you, will make you stronger". Or something like that.

"When the wind of change blows, some build walls while others build windmills." - Chinese proverb

Change is inevitable and the only constant in life. Like it or not, I encounter and have to deal with a lot of changes in my life. Sometimes, I met them with trepidation and fear. Fear of the unknown is undeniable. And whenever I wallow in fear for too long, I make up excuses to rationalize my inaction and hesitation.

It has been five years now, when I first arrived in Canada. Life is pretty laid-back and I think I have adjusted to my new life here. In those five years a lot has happened and changed for me. I learned to be more thankful even if sometimes things don't turn out the way I want them to be. Life in a foreign country is not that grand as what others purported it to be. Sure, it is a far cry from what I had back home but there are also a lot of ironies that I have to contend with. Being away from my family and all things familiar is a compromise. But I'm grateful for the exceptionally wonderful, kind and generous people I've met whom made me feel welcome and well-taken care of. They made my life here easier.

"Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom." - Marcel Proust

If there's one thing I can take away from the past five years, it is this---I never really fully understand the meaning of being responsible until now. Yes, it's easy for me to say I'm responsible. I mean, I follow the traffic rules and all. I pay my taxes. But frankly, it was only a few months ago that it started to sink in, ---what it really means to be a responsible adult. I never felt more responsible and be present in the moment, than when I'm behind the wheel.  It's the most grown up thing I've ever done, so far. I drink on occasions. But since I started driving, I make it a point to only imbibe alcohol when I am absolutely sure that I won't be going out.

Showing up for work, with a decent amount of sleep and a "let's get this party started" attitude is another thing. Yes, there are days when I wish I'm somewhere else rather than at work. But that's about it. One day, while driving from work to go to the next one, I thought about the bible verse "No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other." In my case, I have more than two masters (  and I'm not just talking about work ). Lately, I have this feeling that I'm trapped.  And oftentimes, I've been told that I'm too serious. I can't say I'm crazy about what I do but I'm always thankful for it because it gives me a sense of purpose. Besides, getting paid, it allows me to be with people and interact with them.

To be a sensible and responsible adult is hard work in itself. So in the odd times that I get bogged down and frustrated with the vagaries of adult life, I try to think about this phrase, "this too shall pass" and escape to my world, with books and music. And perhaps, have a drink or two. With coffee, I usually have three. :-)

If I were a boy, the perks of being "not really a girl".

I can hear the wheels turning in your head. "Finally, she's coming out." But I hate to disappoint you, I'm not coming out from anywhere. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not hiding. Lately, I've been thinking about a lot of things and more so because I have free time on my hands. Actually, I should be doing something else, aside from zoning out but I always procrastinate. The inclination to write is heightened when I'm at this state. But  I do go to work so the aforementioned "free time" on my hands is not always the case.

Now back to my post. As long I can remember, I never really like to wear a dress. And by dress, I mean, the kind made with frilly or soft stuff or something that cling to your body. Or worse, the kind that hinders free movement. Growing up, a shirt and knee-high pants were always my go-to attire.  I have no explanation and I don't think I owe anyone, as to why I'd rather wear jeans, a t-shirt and a pair of runners than a dress or something. I can't be bothered with make-up , fashion or dressing up. It annoys me when I go to the mall with my sister because she'd spend hours there to look for clothes and what not. And one time, while we were in a store, I told her that I feel out of place and she gave me a look that said "Oh my, here we go again." A shower and a change of clean clothes is good enough for me. I don't spend a lot of time going over what to wear because its mainly jeans and t-shirt, except during colder months. I don't agonize over how my hair looks like ( well, it's always in a ponytail anyway and lately, I think about cutting it short so I don't have to worry about combing it ).

"Look at me, I will never pass for a perfect bride

 Or a perfect daughter.

 Can it be, I'm not meant to play this part?

 Now I see, that if I were truly to be myself

 I would break my family's heart...." - Mulan

It's a huge relief that I don't have lots of friends so I don't get invites to parties or get-together. That way, I don't need to dress up. Besides, parties and get-togethers are not my thing. I do like to smell good, if that's any consolation. When I complained to my sister about how she spend hours "painting" her face or "ironing" her hair and letting me wait like forever, it seems, she always give me this retort, "You don't understand because you're not a girl."

Apparently, based on my experience, if a girl does not dress or move around like the rest of the female species, she's bound to be labeled as something else. We have different words for it in our dialect and now when I think of it, they sound derogatory and mocking. I had my share of embarrassing incidents, when I was mistaken for a boy or someone's younger brother, especially when I used to sport a crop haircut. The story of my life.

As for relationships, I don't have any. I think that fueled the speculation about me leaning more toward the same team. Someone even asked me if I'm attracted to guys, I'm like, yes I do. But it doesn't mean that I want to hang out with them or spend the rest of my life with them. I don't go out of my way to meet them because I don't want to.

I came from a culture that sort of classify women, when they get to a certain age, to "settle down" and have a family. The "settle down" and "have a family" part has never really entered my mind. I don't hear my biological clock ticking. ( And for someone. who is asked for identification, from time to time, when I go to buy something from a liquor store, I guess I can get away with not hearing my biological clock ticking. )

Just so you know, I'm not against relationship or marriage. I know a few people who are married and have children. They're happy.  But I know early on, that being in a relationship or getting married, for that matter, is not for me. I am selfish when it comes to my time. I'm not willing to compromise.

This is my stand now, but who knows, a few years down the road, something get loosely unscrewed in my brain, then all of a sudden, I change my mind. ( God forbid .) In the meantime, I enjoy and make the most of what I have right now. And be "irresponsible" once in a while.

Yes, I mentioned about  perks. Well, here's one, I get to buy more pairs of runners. Go figure.

What dreams may come?

Ah, dreams. I used it carelessly or interchangeably with the word "goals". I have dreams.  One day, while I drive home from work, I remembered something a friend told me on Facebook, she said about my dream coming true, finally driving my own car.

"Life has a way of testing a person's will, either by having nothing happen at all or by having everything happen at once." - Paulo Coelho

When I was in Grade six I remembered telling my family that I want to be an astronaut when I grow up. This unexpected announcement was met by curious nods and looks, as if to say, "Let the child be. She doesn't know better." In high school, after having been introduced to the world of Ariel in the "Little Mermaid", I decided that I want to be a Walt Disney animator when I grow up. I mean, what's not to love about cartoons, or Winnie the Pooh, for that matter.

Then I went to university and reality starts to creep in. I have a bachelor's degree in accounting but never really get to used it. I tried and failed to pass the board examinations  to become a certified public accountant. As what my aunt told me, when a door closes, another one will open. True enough, one did and I had no qualms barging into it.

"When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it." - Paulo Coelho 

Years later, I found myself doing something altogether different. My dreams disappear in the midst of the craziness and mind-boggling reality of daily life. It turns out there are other important things  that carries more weight than my dreams. Yes, I still watch cartoons. And sometimes, I still wonder what it feels like to be in outer space, especially after I watched the movie "Gravity". But that's about it.

I did grow up and I realized that things change. And its up to me to keep up with it. Someone asked if I like what I do. In response, I said that it's not about liking it or not. It's more about accepting the fact that I made the decision to do it. The least I can do is make the most out of it.

As for driving a car, it is AMAZING.

I lived, thankfully.

"One often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it." - Master Oogway ( Kung Fu Panda )

"You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore." - William Faulkner

In everything, give thanks. And be okay.

"Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for." - Epicurus

I find it easy to feel grateful  and say thanks, when things go according to my plans. When everything falls into place and I'm left with this wonderful feeling that life is good. The real challenge is when things take a turn for the worse and giving thanks is the last thing on my mind. When this happen, I'm more inclined to feel angry and frustrated. And sometimes, indulge in pity party, which is not a good idea. It takes a conscious effort on my part to see past all the negative feelings and look at the bigger picture.

"I've started to look at life differently. When you're thanking God for every little you - every meal, every time you wake up, every time you take a sip of water - you can't help but be more thankful for life itself, for the unlikely and miraculous fact that you exist at all." - A. J. Jacobs

Things happen for a reason so I've heard. Life won't always be easy and there are things I can't control no matter what. Still, I have a lot to be thankful in my life.

The chance to see this view is reason enough to be thankful.  Just proves I get to live another day. :-)

H A P P Y   T H A N K S G I V I N G !!!

I'm quiet and perfectly fine with it.

I read a chapter about Psychiatry and I'm relieved to learn that being an introvert is not a personality disorder. I've read a few articles about introversion online and I find that some of the things introverts do at great length to avoid people or recharge their batteries are quite funny. I'm not at the point yet, where I have to hide in the bathroom just to avoid talking to anyone. The first time I've heard the word introvert was, I think when I was in high school. Back then, it sounded odd to me and sort of reinforced my deep-seated suspicion that there must be something psychologically wrong with me. As a kid, I was not the type that needed to be always around with other kids, to be entertained. I used to play with these paper cut-outs of people (which I made myself ) and created a monologue while I play with them. One day, when my grandmother heard me talking to myself, it prompted serious concern from her. She must have thought I was going cuckoo. At her behest, my mother kept a close watch on me for a day and when she was satisfied that I’m perfectly sane, they left me alone. 

 I often wonder why I can’t just be like others who seem to have always something to say about everything there is. Growing up, I was told that I’m shy and have no people skills or personality and that I wouldn't amount to anything. Like, how I’m supposed to get anywhere if I don’t know how to talk to people. One time, when I used to live in a dormitory, one of the girls made a comment that I am autistic. Of course, she didn't say it to my face.  I wondered what made her come up with that remark, then I realized  later on, that it was because I don't hang out with their group and make small talk. On another occasion, I was told I'm anti-social, for the same reason. 

I used to be bothered when I heard comments about me being shy or quiet. I feel uncomfortable when attention is directed at me. Sometimes, I wish I'm invisible, so then no one will notice me and I'm spared from replying to questions like, "Why are you so quiet?" or "Are you okay?" Early on, I know I'm different. Not weird different, just different. And I'm okay with it. But the thing is, I have to be out there so I need to adjust and compromise, when necessary.

"Don't underestimate me because I'm quiet. I know more than I say, think more than I speak and observe more than you know." - Michaela Chung

For some reasons, I do try to fit in. But I can’t just bring myself to talk just for the sake of talking. I prefer to observe and listen. And I can be a good sounding board too. But just because I'm quiet doesn't mean I don't know how to talk or don't want to talk. Given the right topics, probably I'd talk for hours until someone will tell me to shut up. 

Being around with a lot of people is an ordeal for me. Not that I dislike people per se, it’s just that after a while, they become too loud and noisy. And it tires me out.  It’s for this reason that it only takes half an hour max before I start to fidget and complain to my sister, whenever we’re in the mall. And almost always, she tells me to go find a place where I can have coffee and sit, while I wait for her.

"What a commentary on our civilization, when being alone is considered suspect; when one has to apologize for it, make excuses, hide the fact that one practices it like a secret vice!"- Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Some people think that if you’re quiet, it’s either because you’re dumb or shy or whatever word they can come up with. Or socially inept. I don't really think that I'm quiet. I mean, it's not something I put on or take off, like a piece of clothing. Or some sort of mechanism that I can switch on or off. It's part of me. It is me. To pretend otherwise is pointless and detrimental to my well-being. 

Yes, I like to be alone, most of the time and do whatever it is I love doing, like read a book or do the crossword or watch TV. But from time to time, I like some company too. I don't mind hanging out with my sister ( which we don't get to do much ) even if we always end up at the mall because its her "favorite" place. Or go for a hike with Rita and Janet. Or go to the book club meeting. ( Its like killing two birds with one stone, socialize and talk about books. Or should I say, four birds, counting the wine and all the food.)

So anyway, in the off-chance that you see me, staring out into space or have this zoned out look in my face, pay it no mind because I do it often. There's just a lot of stuff going on in my head. And it's just me, being me. :-)

Coming to Canada.

After countless forms that needs to be filled up and signed and days and months of waiting,  I finally got that piece of paper that says I'm confirmed as a permanent resident of Canada.

It's been four years since I first set foot in this country. I remember seeing the lights of Vancouver for the first time, as the plane prepared to land, and I realized that, there's no turning back.  I had no idea as to what lies ahead of me. It has been a learning experience, as I eased myself  into the Canadian way of life. And I'm still learning every day. I have to remind myself from time to time that I only inhabit a small portion of this country. But to keep it simple, whenever someone ask me where I'm at now, my answer is always, "I'm in Canada."

I am grateful for Mama. I get to go to school and come to Canada. Although, she thinks I'm too serious. :-)

I've always wanted to go to New York for a visit. But I never thought about the possibility that I get to move away from home and live somewhere, a thousand miles away from family and friends, in an entirely different time zone and climate. Coming to Canada has its upside and downside, like everything else in life. "You can't have your cake and eat it too." proves to be true.

People I've met are curious to know if I like it here. I always say that I do. I like the temperate climate. I like the library. Although being away from home is a compromise I have to deal with. I miss my family and the few friends I have, from time to time. And I miss the food. I came from a country where no meal is complete without rice. It took me awhile to get used to eating salads and other kind of vegetables. One day, someone asked me if I cook my own food, I replied no. And she was like, don't you miss it? I told her, I miss it, sometimes. But I learn to adjust and adapt. Besides, my sister cook Filipino food when we hang out.

My sister and I don't agree on a lot of things. But that doesn't change the fact that I learned some things from her, like how to put on a jacket, without having the shirt sleeves all bunched up underneath. :-)

When it was certain that I'd be coming to Canada, I decided to read more about the country to keep myself abreast with what to expect. Let's just say that my reading helped a bit. But still, it didn't prepare me for all the experiences I encountered along the way.  A lot has change for me in the span of four years. I like to think that coming to Canada made me a better person. It made me more responsible. Being here made me look at my family in a different light and appreciate them. Then I learned how to drive and got my driver's license. I  get to run a marathon. I had the opportunity to work for three different wonderful elderly ladies, whom impacted my life in ways I didn't expect. No amount of reading could have prepared me, for the experience  and realization ( which came later )-- that I am capable of caring for another person. That I can be emotionally invested in someone. And I don't mean this, in the sense of just doing my job. That I will learn to like animals, especially Moxie and Nakita, and sometimes, prefer their company. That coming to Canada would test my patience, when one day, I had to stand in the rain, while I wait for the bus. And on another occasion literally ran after one.

Dennis and Rita make my life easier. I am and will always be thankful. 

Before you doze off and fall flat on your face while reading this, I'll bring this post to an end by saying a word of thanks to the people who make it possible for me to be here.  I can't take all the credit for having survived in a foreign country, that's altogether different from the one where I was born and grew up. I owe it to all the generous and kind people I have had the privilege of meeting. It's worth mentioning that without my aunt ( whom we call Mama ), I wouldn't be in Canada right now. Even if we don't see eye to eye on a lot of things, it won't discount the fact that she  made it possible for me to come here. To my sister, who made it easier for me to adjust to my new life here, even if sometimes, she drives me crazy. And most of all, I wouldn't be able to comply with the requirements to become a permanent resident if not for Mary, Nora and Nancy and their respective families. They trusted me and welcomed me in their homes.

Hey, brother and sister.

"I don't believe an accident of birth makes people sisters or brothers. It makes them siblings, gives them mutuality of parentage. Sisterhood and brotherhood is a condition people have to work at." - Maya Angelou

There was a time, especially during high school, when I used to be embarrassed whenever someone asked me questions like, "How many are you in the family?' or "How many brothers and sisters do you have?' I was like, not again. Now, when someone ask me these same questions, my reply to the first would be a brief "Nine." and the latter would take a considerable time while I do the math then I'd say, "I have six sisters and two brothers. And I'm the eldest." Both of my answers would be met with surprise or a "Wow" reaction. And I'm like, yes, tell me about it.

I still can't figure out how my mother ever managed to have nine kids. While growing up, I remembered her being pregnant, then she'd be gone for a few days and when she came back home, she'd have a baby in her arms. I have never seen her in labor or wailing and mouthing off expletives ( just like shown in the movies or TV shows ) because she was in pain. When I was old enough to know what was going on, the arrival of a new baby, like every couple of years or so, has lost its appeal. I started to ask questions and resented the fact that our family kept growing. Of course, my questions were ignored. I heard talks that my parents wanted to have a son, so that was it. True enough, after seven daughters, my two brothers arrived and that's how we get to be nine.

"Our siblings push buttons that cast us in roles we felt sure we had let go of long ago — the baby, the peacekeeper, the caretaker, the avoider.... It doesn’t seem to matter how much time has elapsed or how far we’ve traveled." - Jane Mersky Leder

Once, someone told me that it must be fun to be in a big family. I thought about that remark for a long time. I think it depends on how you define "fun".  It was never fun for me, at least back then. Everything has to be shared equally and to the last bit or else there'd be "war". My mother has become adept at making sure that food was divided in equal portions,  among us kids. I remembered a particular incident, when she had to forgo her share because one of my younger sister or brother ( I can't remember anymore ) wanted more of something. As I watched her silently, I realized then, that she's not just some woman who had babies all the time. She's our "Nanay" and will always be.

I grew up knowing that I have to keep myself in line and have to set a good example for my younger siblings. My parents didn't have to talk to me about this but it was assumed and I figured that since I'm the eldest, it is expected of me. There were times that I wish I have an older brother or sister. And even now, I still think how nice it would be to have an older sibling.  Wishful thinking, I suppose.

"Siblings are the people we practice on, the people who teach us about fairness and cooperation and kindness and caring — quite often the hard way."- Pamela Dugdale

One day, my brother and I had the chance to chat on Facebook and after the usual exchange of Hi's and How are you's, we get to talk about things, way back when he was younger. He reminded me how ill-tempered I was and how scared they were when I get angry. And I thought to myself, he remembers.  One time when I found out that my mother was pregnant for the eighth time, I gave her the cold shoulder. I didn't talk to her for a few days but I also looked up baby boy names, secretly. I wasn't sure if it was just pure coincidence, my mother gave birth to a baby boy. They were all happy. I was happy. A few years after that, another baby boy arrived. For some reason, I doted on my younger brothers. When I was away at school, I used to save part of my allowance so I could buy presents for them when I come home for a visit. Too bad they both didn't get to spend a lot of time with our father because he passed away too soon.

"Our siblings. They resemble us just enough to make all their differences confusing, and no matter what we choose to make of this, we are cast in relation to them our whole lives long." - Susan Scarf Merrell

I don't see my younger siblings as often now since I moved away from home. We don't talk much. They're miles away, they may as well be in a different world. But whenever we do get to talk, I am transported back in time and sometimes, it feels like I've never left.

One day, while I watched the movie "Cheaper by the Dozen", I thought about my brothers and sisters and was inspired to write. Hence, this post. I guess the movie reminded me of them, who knows.

Summertime sadness.

"In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks." - John Muir

Lately, I have no interest to update my blog. Nothing much is happening in my life anyway. Once in a while, I make an exception though. I mean, hey, life's too short to worry about stuff like, life not exciting enough. But just to give you a heads up, what I've written here is far from exciting so....

 Summer is definitely upon us and it makes me painfully aware that Nancy is not here. She used to say that she can't wait for summer to come so she can sit outside and enjoy it. We'd talk about the flowers and have cold drinks. While she'd bask in the sun's warmth, Moxie and I would stay in the shade and cool ourselves. Sometimes, I wish for rain to come so I can go for a run and have a good cry, while at it.

Happier times.

 I think I never learn. I told myself a few times, not to get attached and care too much about someone. Or not feel too happy about what's going on in my life. But I did the exact opposite. I care about Nancy and now she's gone. I went "crazy" with running ( and I still am ) and my feet acted up. I thought life was good  then things change.

I try to look for distractions anywhere I can find it, however short-lived. I went hiking with Rita and her friends. One day, we found ourselves on a slippery, seaweed-covered  rocks on the beach and as I inched my way through it, the thought of slipping come to mind. The possibility of a fall or twisting my ankle scares me but at the same time, gives me a rush. Physical pain, sometimes is some form of distraction until such time when it gets too much that I have to reach for Ibuprofen. Hiking on the trails give me an illusion that I'm out for a run. Time spent outside makes me feel good. But after it was over and done, I'm back to square one. Then one time, I turned my attention to vodka ( with orange juice ) and for awhile there, I had the time of my life. Until the next morning, when my head felt like it weigh a ton and my stomach felt weird that my appetite eluded me for a day.

 So what brought this on? I guess, I'm sad. See, I'm not even sure that I am. Probably, because I had no reason to, until of late. And it's more noticeable because I haven't been to my "happy place" in a long time. I'm not the type who dwell on the not-so-good things in life. Perhaps, because I don't usually think about them, until now. Too much thinking has its downside I suppose. 

Better get back to my reading. And learning new words.

Confessions of a reluctant caregiver, in retrospect.

I had the chance to go over my blog one day, and came across  a post  I wrote four years ago. It was about my feelings and thoughts of working as a live-in caregiver. At that time, I was scared of being not up for the job and doing something wrong. I remembered crying after the first week in my first job because I was overwhelmed.

A lot has changed in four years. My fear of being not up for the task or making mistakes disappeared. Although not entirely, but I don't think so much about them anymore. Instead, I focused on doing my job well and think of ways to do it better.

I didn't plan on becoming a live-in caregiver. I had grand plans for myself, unfortunately, they didn't pan out. I guess they weren't meant to be. I didn't  realized that I'd be doing something far more remarkable.

The first time I met Nancy seemed like ages ago, when I think about it now. At that time, I felt anxious about starting a new job and all. She made me forget that. One thing I'd always remember is that, after we were introduced, I felt like I've met her before and have known her for a long time. She held onto my hand and gave me a smile. Right there and then, I knew that we're off to a good start and we'd get along fine. And we did. Besides, she reminded me a lot of my grandmother. Nancy was the first person to point it out to me that I'm a runner because I love to run. She worried about me getting cold and not having enough to eat. She told me, more than a few times, that  I'm part of the family.

I was away for a month to visit my family, so Nancy had to go to respite. I assured her that I will be back and that  time would just go by so fast, for the both of us. I came back and was happy to see her again. I'm sure she was happy to see me too. But a few days later, she died.  After that, the days went by in a blur. I'm sad and I feel lost. Whenever someone asked me how I'm doing, my usual reply of "I'm good." comes in handy. I'm not really sure if I do feel good though. But I try to. I know that death is an inevitable part of the human condition. I get that Nancy was 93 years old and had various ailments, that came with being old. But I wasn't prepared and was caught off-guard when she passed away. I always thought that we still have a few more years to hang out together.

I've been told how good I am with her. But the the thing is, it was a team effort. I wouldn't be able to do my job well if Nancy was not that good-natured and amiable. And easy to get along with. Through the course of time that I worked for her, sometimes, I felt like I was a drill sergeant, that went over our routines like clock work. Of course, I always tell her to feel free to say something if I get way out of line. But she always tells me that she had no complaints and assured me that everything I did was perfect.

It was a privilege to work for her. Aside from the financial aspect that came with the job, working for her has opened my eyes to the intricacies of being an elderly and what it feels like to be one. She showed me the importance of family and their support. But most of all, she made me feel that I belong and for once, I did something right and somehow, made a difference in her life.

The year that was 2013...lessons learned.

"Life is made up of moments, small pieces of glittering mica in a long, stretch of gray cement. It would be wonderful if they came to us unsummoned, but particularly in lives as busy the ones most of us lead now, that won't happen. We have to teach ourselves how to make room for them, to love them, and to live, really live." - Anna Quindlen

As evidenced by three filled Moleskine notebooks, I can say that I've been busy with writing last year. It's kind of fun to flip through the pages and get a scribbled ( sometimes, a hasty and sloppy one ) reminder of what transpired on a particular day.

I started writing in a journal, more than a year, after I first arrived in Canada. I find it cathartic, besides, I've always like to write. It gives me an excuse to hone my writing skills. Not to mention,"talking" to myself, without anyone thinking I'm mad.

Before I completely get into 2014 and get silly, like come up with New Year's resolutions ( that I won't follow through ), I thought it'd be a good idea to take a trip down memory lane and reminisced the year that was 2013 and the lessons learned....

One of the things I'm thankful for, is my sister. Our get-together once in awhile is something I always look forward to.

Sometimes, life sucks, but live anyway, rather than just exist.

I have had my fair share of unfavorable events or circumstances ( or whatever you may call them) that at some point made me think of going down the bay and jump in the water. ( I've been warned though, that the water would be cold, especially at this time of the year, so clearly, I have no intention to drown myself.) There are things I've hope for that never came through. I've been disappointed, frustrated, annoyed, angered... ( I've run out of adjectives here. ) But the thing is, I'm still here. For all the crappy stuff that happened in my life, I'm still alive. And for me, that counts for something. I could mope and wallow in self-pity, but I know I won't get anything good out of it. So, I choose to live instead and move on.

Courage is not the absence of fear.

This I found to be true. I've done things where I put up a brave front, when the truth is, I'm a bundle of nerves inside ( sometimes to a point where I get an upset stomach ). I learned that being brave, does not necessarily mean that I'm devoid of fears and uncertainties. The following quote summed it up.

"Courage to me is doing something daring, no matter how afraid, insecure, intimidated, alone, unworthy, incapable, ridiculed or whatever other paralyzing emotion you might feel. Courage is taking action, no matter what. Be afraid. Be scared silly to the point you're trembling and nauseous, but do it anyway!" - Richelle E. Goodrich

Being thankful for everything, either good or bad, goes a long way.

It's hard to feel grateful when things aren't going the way I want them to be. Often, I'd be more inclined to "rant and rave" or turn the music up. ( And this, I'd probably do within the confines of my bedroom, especially the "rant and rave" part, if I ever get to it. ) Or worse, "confront" the powers that be, why He's picking on me. But I realized that, giving thanks despite all the disappointments and frustrations in my life, somehow takes away a bit of the pain and heartache. Being thankful always remind me that no matter how bad my day is or how boring my life seem to be, there's always tomorrow to look forward to.

All I want for Christmas...

If not for the Christmas lights and Christmas decorations I see everywhere, I wouldn't have notice that its just a few days before Christmas. Someone asked me if I think about it. Christmas, she meant. I replied, sometimes.

I remembered about writing a letter to Santa, like a couple of years ago, but it didn't pan out. I suppose at this time, he is busy and all. I don't expect to be on his "Naughty or Nice" list because for one, I don't think I'm naughty and because I'm already 37, I'm sure, he couldn't care less if I'm nice. I wish Santa have some help, aside from the elves, that can cater to a grown-up's Christmas wish, like mine.

"Christmas is a time when you get homesick---even when you're home." -
Carol Nelson

Anyway, I still think it would be fun to convey to him my heart's desire which is more amplified at this festive time of the year. If he is really magical or something, I assume he already know what I want. But just in case, he is distracted with the tons of letters coming his way, I took the liberty to jog his memory, with the assumption that he has access to the internet.

Drum roll please....here goes my Christmas wishlist...

DSLR camera. I've always wanted a Nikon one. I love taking pictures to a fault. I don't think I need to elaborate.

Laptop. My netbook is still working but it sure is getting slow. And part of the keyboard doesn't work anymore because I slammed my fist into it. At one point, I lose patience.

Amazon Kindle Paperwhite. Just so I can say I'm a well-rounded reader.

It's not a long list. I can't think of anything else that I'd like for Christmas, tangible things, that is. I just thought it would be fun to have a go at this "wishlist" thing.

Merry Christmas!!!