Thursday, August 14, 2008
It was almost two years ago when we found out that he has cancer. Since then, we have been praying for healing and complete recovery. His doctor told him that he has a few months left and You have blessed him to be alive until now.
In those months of treatment and medications, You have taught us more about the meaning of family, of relationships and of life. You taught us that above all things, the love that binds us as a family is far greater than the collective achievements that we have as a family. You have showed us how you blessed our parents' vows with compassion amidst all the trials they have to go through. You have blessed us to bond together in places we never imagined of reaching. In your perfect timing, you gave us hope when it was needed most. You showered us with financial blessings to keep us afloat through all these. You have given my mother strength to go through all these things.
You made me realize that I am so blessed with my parents. You made me realize that I am so blessed with my father.
You have healed my father in so many ways. And you have healed this family too.
And I thank you. Thank you for each day that you have given to my dad. Thank you for my mother who stood by her "in sickness and in health" vow. Thank you for giving her strength and I pray that You continue to bless her steadfastness and fortitude.
Lord, I pray that you give my father resilience. Lord, soothe his body and comfort him in each day. And if indeed his time comes to meet You on that beautiful shore, I pray that You take him with You in peace and without pain.
In Jesus' name, Amen.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
September of 2006 marked the start of trying times in our family. It happened when all spirits were high and things are going well then we found out that my father has hepa B and liver cancer. The news tore my mom apart. I can still remember that very morning my sister told me about it. I can still remember my mom breaking down at the corridor of St. Luke's. I have blogged it several times.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Friday, February 29, 2008
Monday, February 11, 2008
I was younger than our little girl when martial law was declared. I did not have any recollection of the events, but my parents would remind me quite often that among the first phrases I said as a child was the slogan “Sa ikauunlad ng bayan, disiplina ang kailangan.”
What I remembered clearly though was how it was growing in NPA-infested Panay in the 70’s and 80’s. And how in the early 80’s I would often hear my father saying that Marcos was the number one recruiter of the NPA’s as by oppressing people, he (Marcos) had actually forced them (the people) to go the hills. I also remembered my mother packing things during those days - land titles, document, then, clothes. And how she was silently weeping. And not so silently whenever the song "Bayan Ko" was played. This was around those days after Ninoy was shot.
As my father seethed in anger over the political situation at that time, my mother sought refuge in prayer. She would spend day after day in church just to pray for the country. But she also prepared, that’s why she packed.
I would later learn that during those tumultuous days, the one option my parents had considered was going to the hills, as we were warned early on that my father will be re-assigned to an island because of his political views.
My eyes well up with tears as I recalled those days. Devoid of other options, what indeed will parents do instead?
As we watched Jun Lozada say the things he was saying, we feel for him and his family. For who indeed will want to be in the situation he is currently in? What husband/father would want to put his family in this type of a predicament? Hindi naman siguro dahil idol niya lang si Rizal?
Lozada had wanted to give something back to the country. Ugh! That had hit a nerve. Honestly, if I were on his shoes, I would just have left the country. But recalling what he had said, what would you have gained (by doing something cowardly) if you lose your soul? What indeed?
“Idol nga niya si Rizal”. May God hold men like these in His keeping.
And may the Lord heal our land.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
November 17th marked the first month of my father's first intake of 800 mg of brivanib alanate - a tyrosine kinase inhibitor that is not yet available commercially - in the hope that it will somehow stop or retard the progression of his liver cancer, the way another drug of a similar class - sorafenib - showed the much-touted promise in another clinical trial published 4 months ago.
Asymptomatic that he was/is, we chanced upon father's liver tumors first week of September last year. By the last week of the same month, we had the diagnosis of liver cancer confirmed by histopath/biopsy. This is not happy news, especially in the light of the treatment option given - none. Even then, I was already advised by colleagues (ophthalmologists) to look for clinical trials and enrol father in one.
Before he was discharged during the biopsy, the hepatologist had a change of heart. (I could only guess why.) She suggested radiofrequency ablation (RFA). Father was readmitted for the procedure. This time the admitting diagnosis was hepatocellular carcinoma, and he was for RFA and percutaneous ethanol injection (PIE). The prognosis though was still guarded. Both procedures work for tumors of a certain size only. And although, Papa was not symptomatic, I knew that his biggest tumor was already bigger than the cut-off.
Another round of RFA was suggested to be done 3 months after, but only when the intestines clear out of the way. I remembered asking the hepatologist if father needed an oncologic referral. The reply was in negative. I believed her. And so we waited for the intestines to clear out of my father's right lobe. They never did.
During one of this hepatologic consult, Papa asked his doctor his life expectancy in the light of his medical condition. Without batting an eyelash, the hepatologist told him "6 months". I could kick my father at that time, in asking that question of someone whose "people skills" need a lot of improvement.
I remembered the advice I got at the outset of this battle. Our pursuit of the unconventional brought us abroad, only to find our answer back home, specifically, while queueing at a bakeshop. This couldn't just be serendipity.
The most trying time came with the intake of brivanib, as like in any anti-VEGF, it caused my father's blood pressure to go sky high. His 800mg-dose also sent him to liver failure, Papa had to be admitted. But it was his high BP that almost crippled him.
All these have come to past now.
Two days ago, without his doctors' knowledge my father, with mother and Tim, hopped on a plane to go home (I could just imagine the number of strings my brother had to pull to get him a plane ticket). When they landed in Iloilo, I got a real chirpy phone call from him. He was so happy, you can almost feel his elation, it instantly erased my guilt in aiding him escape.
Today I'm just grateful.
Grateful that something is being done for his tumors; Grateful for his sassy, smart, sexy doctors; Grateful that they have the nerve to tell him, "Aba Dad, gusto niyo bang mabuhay o mamatay? Kasi kung gusto niyong mamatay, wala na tayong pag-usapan, wag na natin pahabain to."
Grateful for the family and friends who truly care for him. One suggested pranic healing, another went to Lourdes, France and included Papa in her intentions, still another wanted to give him holy water. Instead of saying "duh!" and be exasprated, I/we said "thank you". They do care for him.
But you see, the only one who can heal father is the Great Physician. Direct to Him, no go-betweens. The minute we lose focus of Christ as the center of our lives and everything that is happening, good or bad, things will not be right anymore. I'm grateful we have Him in our lives, and in Him we live, and move, and have our being. Cancer or no cancer.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Friday, October 26, 2007
I was gone for 25 days. Almost totally abandoning every single work back home. I have not computed the total amount I have spent, I’m quite afraid of doing so. For 25 days, a lot of places were seen, been to, a lot of things were done. A lot of questions asked, a lot of answers, a lot of puzzles solved and a lot created.
From London to the south of France, to the old central Italy, to lower Germany, to the capital of the land below sea level and to the city of lights, one can reflect what we don’t have back home and yes, what we do have that they don’t anymore. As a friend would say, “Manila is like London a hundred years ago,” and another, “there are no fishes anymore in the mediterranean.”
Comes with development is the fact that something has to be lost. Comes with urbanization is the rape of what has been fertile and natural. Europe is a perfect example. But yes, the sensibility to preserve the salvageable (natural and most especially, man-made) is strongly felt and encouraged. It is with utmost efforts that these places or what is left of it, be preserved. Something that needs a lot of support back home.
One thing also that was most disturbing was the treatment of our kind abroad- treatment from the ones coming from the arian race and from our own kind. Yes, it is possible that a Filipino can actually go to such region just as a tourist if one perseveres and yes, it is possible that to some of us, it is still better to work in the country of our birth, regardless. It was in my train ride to Amsterdam coming from Munich that I strongly felt the discrimination. I was with a Korean whom I met in the train when we were stopped by border officials to check our passports. We were on our way to get coffee at the first class canteen. It took them ten seconds to check the Korean’s passport and mine for ten minutes and only after a series of questions, they gave me my passport. The inevitable question coming from the Korean asking what’s wrong right after was asked. I know the answer but it was very painful to explain. Brings me back to the questions asked in London, “Saang hospital ka?” “May balak kang mag-TNT dito no?” “Di talaga, nagbabakasyon ka lang?” My friend in Italy suffered the same, being a student in music. Stereotyped by stereotypes.
On the other side of things, I want to ask why am I born in my country? Having to carry the green passport with all the disadvantages that go with it. Why am I born to a country where my concept of money can actually be translated to just pence and pennies? Why am I born to a country which can boast of almost nothing to the field where I am working? And I actually don’t know the answer. Or maybe we can rephrase the questions into statements- I can be proud of my passport regardless. I can earn more than these people earning in pounds and euros if I try harder. I can work where I am most familiar with, with what we already have.
It is easy saying it actually. Well, its easier saying it now than before.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Im in my room in Paris and I can’t help but think about home. Im going back to Manila tomorrow. I’m way lagged behind this diary and there are just so many things to write about. It’s ten in the morning and I don’t have the drive to get out of my room. My last day in Paris- as of this trip is concerned.
After Bologna, I took the night train to Munich. Originally, to buy a Samsonite bag. Im going to Germany just to buy a Samsonite bag. But my cheap bag did not reach Germany. I bought the bag in Bologna. Luckily, when I went to Munich, they have the same price. I smiled to myself, at least I was not duped in Bologna.
Munich, the capital of Oktoberfest. I arrived there two days after the last day of the beer festival. It was pretty quiet. Just like the rest of Europe, it boasts of it’s old buildings. The picturesque riverbanks and on a far distance, the Alps. Not like the rest of Europe, this city is terribly chilly. Coming from the south, I was warned by my friend to be ready for it. I thought I was (even with my thermals on).
From Munich, I took the night train again to Amsterdam. Arrived in Amsterdam at about nine in the morning the following day. I met a couple of friends (whom I don’t think I will ever see) on the train.
First one was this English lady who escaped her German husband and went to Italy. She was on her way back to Munich to settle the legal papers for her children so they can have the money to go back to England. Next was this old lady on the train station who half the time I can barely understand and the third one was this Korean guy in the train. He was the only one who talked in english during that trip so we got along well the entire trip. It was in Amsterdam that he doesn’t want to let go of my hands when we said our good byes.
The sex capital of the world. The pot capital. The flower capital. The gay capital. The city of bikes. A lot has been attributed to this small city in the province of Holland. Surrounded by canals and lying below sea level, this city reminds me of the story we read in grade five - A leak in the Dike. Now, I got to understand why the leak should be stopped.
I found my hotel in Amsterdam fast. I took the taxi. It’s a charming B&B just outside the perimeter street on the central part of the city. I have to say, the owners are as charming as well.
Walking around the city gives you this feeling of being trampled by their leaning buildings. Now, unlike the rest of Europe, Amsterdam is more funky when it comes to interiors while their exteriors are of Housseman era. There are Museums everywhere you go, from Van Gogh to the Sex Museum.
Probably the next thing that they should make into a museum is their red light district. Mainly because of many of those in their windows are already of museum quality.
I was supped to leave Amsterdam 19th of October but because of of so many things, my train left me. I got stuck there for another night. And finally, after so many train stops, I got to Paris the following day.
I am still here in my room in Paris. My first night in the city of lights and my room indeed has one bare warm white power saver compact flourescent. My first night here was almost a disaster. I was supposed to arrive yesterday but because of the strike of the rail workers in France and the traffic in Amsterdam, I missed my train. I left Amsterdam this lunch and and after two train transfers (Antwerpen, Belgium and Lille, France) I finally reached Paris. Only to find out that my hotel cancelled my reservations because I was a no show yesterday. I tried to call them.
Pretty much unlike in Italy. The visit to Bologna was unplanned yet came out to be one of the most endearing. Rica was a friend way back in the musical Elias at Salome way back in 1996. A few year after that I never got a word from her only to find out that she was already in Italy in my friendster eleven years later. unlike most Filipinos in Italy, she is a student. To make it more unlikely, a student of music. And yes, she can pass for a tourist guide.
Bologna means nothing for me except for Bolognese. That spaghettini with a lot of tomato sauce and meat. Basically the one most popularly bastardized by a lot of us. It was that morning when we walked around the city that I found out that Bologna is one of the centers of education in Italy (if not the world). They have the first university that started in the year 300, a library with an extensive collection of manuscripts and records from the medieval era, fully modernized archival system and a lobby with glass flooring underneath of which is a museum of the pre-roman city ruins, and yes, Einstein launched his theories here and Guilelmo Marconi is from this city too. Bologna is also the city of Porticos, they invented this structure.
They say, this is one of the old Italian cities. I can’t help but agree with them. Especially after tasting the Ragu Bolognese prepared for me for my last dinner there.
I’m back in Paris. I should have written this a long time ago but did not have the time or the space (in the train) to do so. The last one was when I was on my way back to this city just to run (literally with my 600-peso bag with a 24 kilo load) to the other station to catch another train going to Venezia (forgive me for using their original names, you just have to so that you won’t get confused when you’re looking at train schedules).
My cousin Jinny told me to enjoy TGV because they are the best trains in Europe. She was right. The train I got to Venice was an experience. Being very tired did help. I was asleep the whole time and when I woke up, I was alone in the cabin of six and I can smell the mediterranean from the open window by the aisle of the train.
The plan was to meet Rica in Bologna but after much changes, we decided to meet in Venezia, deposit my bag, walk the whole day then catch the last train to Bologna for the night. Exactly what we did except that we caught the second to the last train.
Venice is not Italy. You can very well say it has it’s own architecture, it has its own culture, it has it’s own world. Its not even part of this world. From the gate of the station, you can see the grand canal. From there, you have the option to either walk, or take the public ferry or take the taxi boat. For the experience, you can hire the popular gondola with it’s legendary rate of 95 euros an hour. I was very tempted to try it but I was stopped by Rica saying it’s not worth it (imagine if you’re alone paying for it?). Well, almost everything in this group of small islands is expensive. Regular coffee is 4 euros 50- convert that into peso. Sans the tourist, hoards and hoards of tourists, Venezia is one place I can truly say -- BEAUTIFUL.
I waited for Rica for about fifteen minutes. An hour of walking and we found ourselves sipping coffee along the banks of the grand canal. Quite pricey for 4.50 euros a cup but the experience is priceless. Walking along the narrow streets of Venice is like being transported to some medieval flea market (translated to divisoria really, if you think about it) with murano glass scattered from all directions.
The structures are hybrid of European and upper African architecture. The mosaic work of the Basilica di San Marco (and yes, Mark, of the New Testament, is buried inside) is amazing. The piazza, the porticos around the piazza, the small alleys and the canals are picturesque. And yes, Venezia is all about it. It’s hideously commercialized and it will be pointless to spend the night there. By the time that we are about to leave, almost all of the shops are already closed. Maybe during the spring carnival where everybody is donning their venetian masks and revelry is all night long (as they say, it’s better than the Carnival in Rio de Janeiro).
Maybe I will come back just for that.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Trying to read something that you can’t really understand is an exercise of intuition. Pictograms help. A lot of times, I would like to think that the international language really are illustrations (to refute my grade five music teacher).
From Rossy Charles de Gaulle, I took Air France Bus #4 because I read it somewhere that this bus will bring me to Gare de Lyon. It did. I was in the train station trying to figure out what to do with my Eurail Pass and when I finally had the courage to approach the ticket guy, I was told that I should go to other windows because he can’t validate my ticket. I went to the other side of the hall and went to a window. I had no clue that ‘firme’ means close yet I tried my luck anyway. The kind french woman in her 40’s (or 30’s?) validated my pass and gave me my ticket.
Apol picked me up from Gare de Montpellier at about midnight. There were students loitering around the station. I was already outside and she came from inside the station . We reached their place about thirty minutes later. Somehow, a hundred kilometres in this part of the world is not far at all.
I was given my trailer. It’s my first time to actually enter one. Apol and her husband live at the other trailer a few steps from mine. And I got excited to sleep in such.
The following morning was very relaxed. Just as I expected. As compared to the other country across the English Channel, France down south is relaxed and child like. Amidst the preserved architecture are windows and doors in high color. They spell fun in caps. By some pleasant coincidence, I arrived in Aigues Mortes just in time for their fete. “Pumunta akong France para mamista!” Now, spell fun in bold.
I am in my seat right now in a train en route to paris to get to my overnight train to Venice. From where I’m seated, chateaus and villages cling to hillsides amidst the vast fields.
Provence has this reputation back home of one of the most inspiring places to visit in Europe. Maybe because Van Gogh had his Sunflowers grow from this place. The region boasts of dry flat lands with communes older than the Philippine Republic. One particular area is the walled Aigues Mortes. Let’s talk about Intramuros. Make the walls lime (or was it sandstone?) and triple the height. Now, remove the moss, make the gates gothic, and add towers every one hundred meters. And yes, make the walls seamless and poke spear holes on the lower part and add teethlike finish on the upper part. I was told Intramuros is a fortress. I want to bring that person to Aigues Mortes and show him a fortress. Around the area is a landscape thats dry and raw. Pretty much like the people. Very simple and pure.
I was introduced to Jeanette, Apol’s mother-in-law, a very pleasant lady who brought us to this brunch with the entire town. She has this very pronounced sense of pride about her town and about Provence in general. She invited me to her house and almost every single piece has a story. Of course, to say that the house has some character is an understatement. I can’t really say that designers would automatically love her place but sure it can charm anybody’s innocent fantasy. But that's beside the point, the house wreaks of symbols and objects endemic to Provence and that alone is admirable. Such characteristic is almost extinct back home.
Jeannette is not alone. Apol brought me to this market in Camargue the products are screaming of culture- raw and pure. There is warmth in this community and even if you can’t understand what they are saying, you would know you are in good company.
Pierre brought me to the station this afternoon. Made sure I get my ticket before actually leaving me for their climb today that I was supposed to join. I am glad, I was in good company.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
I told Apol, “Maybe next year...” not being sure of everything. Then I tried telling my friends about it. They got more excited more than I. It was when I got to be introduced to my travel agent a few months after that the plan became more concrete, at least the expenses. It was that time that I started doing feelers to my mom. Good thing that we, as a family started traveling together in and outside of the country.
You see, travel in my parents vocabulary when we were young is as vague as latin. It was never part of life. To actually think about it is totally absurd. My dad would often say, it is just a waste of money.
I hope to see the Eiffel from where I sit while writing this- First class TGV to Montpellier. Mont... what? I bought this Eurail pass from my agent before I left Manila. As advised by a friend whom I’m meeting when I go back to Paris before I fly back to Manila.
Way back in Manila, when I was still in UP (where I willingly flunked my French 10), I would see photos of paintings and architecture period styles and just wonder how they are built and made. Studying them and forcing yourself to actually appreciate and master each style with just pictures was doubly hard. I would only wish I can touch them or see them in real life so my memory won’t fail me.
It was last January that I told myself, I will not only visit Apol but make the most of the trip. After all, airfare to Europe is not cheap. The original plan was June. It was moved to August. I tried to make it August but the British Embassy did not allow me. They had my passport on hostage for two months making me almost lose hope. It was when my Schengen visa was given by the French Embassy that I decided to push thru with it regardless of my fluctuating finances.
As birthday gift, my aunt gave me a considerable amount for my pocket money. And my mom agreed to sponsor my airfare. With those on my sleeve, I’m ready to go. Except that I still have responsibilities to finish. And it reached the end of September for work to be done. To be honest, they are still not done but I don’t want to reschedule my ticket.
I arrived in London October 2 at six in the morning. The stories are true, London is cold and wet. My friend picked me up from Heathrow then we took the train to the nearest station where he lives. The initial sight of London did not disappoint me. Brick Victorian homes with remnants of Neo-classic adobe and the far too old Tudor. Then the train went underground.It was when we got off and took the stairs that I got awed by the city. The first thing I saw in central London was the Parliament, full in it’s Gothic revival grandeur. I almost bump into some Japanese tourists primarily because I can’t seem to remove my eyes from it. My friend’s place is just across the bridge over Thames. I told myself, “I’m the luckiest tourist in town!”
London. Aside from being cold and wet, and expensive!, the city boasts of the finer things in life- the height of urban living. It is a city that treasures it’s age while enjoying what modernism can give. The city that stands contented yet operating like a fully lubed clock.
The city of townhouses. In the central part particularly Westminster City is filled with multilevel thin houses built side by side with each other. On the ground level are mostly commercial establishments. If you look closer, There is either a gap between the pavements and the buildings (with rails) or the walkway is lined with glass blocks, just enough to provide natural light to the basement. Basements abode the city. Simply goes to show how old the place is. Maybe, once upon a time, the ground level was way lower than where it is now.
The train system is complicated. It carries the entire city from underneath. On the ground is a vast systematized routes for buses. Needless to say, you don’t really need a car to get you around the city. Taxi rides remain to be a luxury. And yes, who wouldn’t want to walk on old narrow cobblestone roads? With the cold weather, anybody from Manila would know what I mean.
One thing about the city that struck me was the existence of theatre as an industry. Shows are being watched by walk-ins and well appreciated. Tickets are sold everywhere, posters and streamers are all over the city. To be a stage actor in this city is actually a legitimate job. Maybe paying better than others. I was told that once upon a time, Manila was like that. Before the advent of the now deteriorating movie industry. If only for that reason, I would want to live in London. Now, stage plays in Manila are nothing but required field trips to high school students.
I watched four shows in London from the planned six. Not bad I thought, considering the ticket prices. Thanks to Rob who shouldered almost everything.
I reached Montpelier midnight as scheduled. I will be writing more about France soon.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Friday, August 31, 2007
I woke-up this evening with a text message,
"Evryone was amazd s trnsfrmtn hngng opis ko dala me un mag... U wer rly a blssing 4 us..."
It was from Grace, the home-owner of RL's grand make-over winner. The same make-over that I was whining about a few weeks back. I called my boss after that. She asked me if indeed, the whole thing was worth it. I can't help but agree with her. It was worth it.
Admittedly, it took me some time to decode the message, but surely, it is making me smile right now.
Buy your copy of the september issue of Real Living Magazine and you'll see why.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Admittedly, I am not a food junkie except maybe for it's function to the human body- to nourish (and yes, for work, when I'm styling edible materials for Yummy magazine...)
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Sunday, June 10, 2007
One thing very disturbing about it is that in anything I see on TV, I ended up criticizing- the couch, the lamp, or whatever object there is. Come the advertisement, I would imagine designing the set for it on how to make it better. Then I would stop and take hold of whatever I have left for my old self and yes... cry.
My friends told me I need a break from work. Maybe I should. Admittedly, I need it but reality meaning my bills, rent, mortgage etcetera etcetera will not allow me to. To continue working for at least four more years is what's required of me to do. Now, I have said before quoting from Wicked, "There are bridges you cross you didn't know you cross until you cross." What is this bridge that I have just crossed?
On the other side of it, I sure want to just drop everything and be on recluse for at least a year. Go back to my parents' house and live as quietly as I can. But of course, that is totally going against every single grain of my character. I was never like that even at the lowest point of my life.
Maybe a break is what I just need. Break meaning I will be working for an equivalent of two months compressed to one so a can take the next month's off.
Now, that will bring me to a breakdown.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
"Hindi ako lalaban ng patas..." I would always declare.
If there is one thing about what playing chess has taught me, it's thinking at least three moves ahead your opponent. In life, I guess it will always be like that- thinking ahead of everybody else. Especially in the industry where I am. Life afterall is one big chessboard. Although a lot of my friends would call it- beauty contest.
And a few would call it- plain and simple- life. I wish I can be like that. Just calling it as it is. I'm getting tired. Yet, admitedly, it is fun a lot of times. I think I can still be part of the game...
"...kaya ko pa. Di ko naman sinabi na lalaban ako ng patas eh..."
Friday, June 01, 2007
(I'm zlickker in YM)
what are you up to??
friends...... possible partner...
have you been dating?
the last time i went on a date.... walng ngyari......
for about 5 months now
my dinadate ka na for 5 months??
cool..... pero parang ang tgal naman ng dating period nyo....??
wala lang... cant commit eh
the other person cant
umm, ...with somebody else
what are you doing???
waste of time..... waste of emotions....
better give it to someone else....
... there are bridges you cross you did not know you cross until you cross...
im quite ok with the set-up now... quite...
its complicated as it is... and besides... i cant afford to give plenty of time for a relationship now... my work does not allow me to...
im sorry to disappoint you
dissapoint me on what???? i mean its your choice....just be prepared to suffer whatever consequences that your choices might bring you at the end...
im good... been to hell and back.
i sure can afford to step on fire with one foot again... and yeah.. too old for emotional dramas... sure there are other things more financially rewarding than just that....
damn.. i sure sound jaded
and yeah.. im not hurting the other party (i mean, the boyfriend). he is with his wife and kids...
welll i guess you are really okay with the set up that you and your hopefully special someone have.....
im not hoping really...
im not even sure if ill ever find that perfect one for me...
how can you find that someone perfect for you??? you allow yourself to be stuck in a situation you know at the end you'll lose....
its the point in my life that im pretty comfortable where i am (alone) and i have so many things to do and as long as im not inconvenienced, im ok.
not looking forward on how its going to end... im enjoying the moment as of now. tom will worry about itself
and yes... i only think about tomorrow when it comes to work... to which im really married to
true filipino........BAHALA NA SYSTEM......
all other attached to me except for work and family are but extra-marital affairs
im sorry... i know you disagree with me in so many ways.. and i cant understand why im pouring my heart to you right now... a stranger i dont even know...
please accept my apologies
hahaha...... no need for apologies....
---end of conversation