Blue Christmas

I walked into the office on Monday and there was this five foot tree... devoid of balls and ribbons and all the frills. It was sad. I gave it a pat you know. Just a lame attempt to comfort it in it's naked state.

Tuesday morning, I walk in and it's bedecked in blue balls and silver ribbon. I smile because the tree is smiling at me, albeit a bit on the off side. Gotta encourage it to talk you know. It told me blue and silver are really rad colors but they're not Christmassy. I gave it another pat. Hang in there I said.

This morning, it was positively radiant. Nice bling I said when I walked by. It blushed.

Ah, the Christmas season is here.

Talking to Mom

...doesn't make me feel alone or stupid or silly. she doesn't make me feel needy, clingy or lonely. she understands somehow the emotional swings between wisedom and impulsiveness, the pulling and pushing away, the struggle to remain calm, still and in the right place. somehow my confusion clears up and i am left with only peace. somehow she makes me see that i am loved, that i don't have to panic, that things will come come to pass and that she'll be there for me whatever or whoever turns up on my journey.

she is a blessing that took me a long time to recognize.

Sigh...

I am confused, frustrated, hurt, proud.

I am also kind, patient, there for you.

What's the matter with me??? I do not need another reason to be angry at myself.

How to Survive a Day in MR

For those who find themselves staring at their monitors, trying to provide cause analysis for the preferences of fickle-minded consumers:

1. Buy a box of antacids. Ulcer is an occupational hazard of this job. Breakfast at 1PM, Lunch at 4PM and dinner at midnightmakes for pretty holes in your tummy without a handy antacid. Better yet, always stock up on food.

2. Always take three breathes before replying whenever you feel like cutting heads off.

3. Just as you never mess with the people who make your food, never mess with the people who handle your fieldwork. Sometimes, it's best to ask to risk client ire than having low quality data.

4. Learn when to act as a boss and when to be a friend. A little compassion on people who have just worked for 72 hours straight goes a long long way.

5. Celebrate the little things in life like the ritual of taking off the project specs off your board because the project is finished, like lunches with officemates at Almon Marina, and clocking out at 9PM.

Higad

Iba na ang simoy ng hangin...

...o mga basang basang basang pantalong ko lang un? Nabaliw na ba ang panahon o ano? (...or is that just my wet wet wet jeans? Was that crazy weather or what?!)

Akala ko, tumila na siya (ain't you so proud of me Carlo?) pero isa pala itong pagpapanggap para ako'y lumabas na at lumakad na papuntang opisina. At ng (nang?) makalabas ako at makalayo lang ng limang metro sa bahay namin, aba!, ayan na, bumuhos ang loko. Sira ang aking... ano na nga ba ang "poise" sa filipino?

Nahihirapan na ako. Ang bigat ng pakiramdam ng kaisipan (thought ba ito?) na baka may ilang munting barangay ng bacteria (technical terms are excused) ang kasalukuyang namumuhay sa aking paa at ibabang bahagi ng aking binti (legs daw ito sabi ni joy)... Kahit magbuhos ako ng maraming alkohol, hindi pa rin ako mapakali...

At ayan, gagawa daw ako ng ilang questionnaire para sa mga bagong proyekto. Eto ako ulit, nangangapa sa munting nalalaman na Tagalog... Mabuhay ang Market Research!

Girl thinks out loud

I’ve been thinking a lot (and for a long time) about myself and my being a woman and what that’s supposed to mean, if anything. Did God just process this statistically and figured a good sample spread would be a 50-50 split between the sexes and there’s this randomization scheme in heaven where I was randomly picked to be a woman, whatever that may mean?

Of course that doesn’t fit in with how deliberately and wisely planned the rest of creation is and how God is an eternal, powerful, wise Being who is so other worldly as to strike fear in the heart of me. The good sort of fear of course. The honoring, respecting and loving sort of fear.

I’ve mentioned that this “What is a woman of God? Who is this woman? Why is she a woman?” phase has been ongoing for quite sometime now. I don’t have all my answers down yet and I suspect I won’t completely understand this until I’m face to face with my Savior. But I’m going to think out loud here and share the lessons so far.

Most important thing I’ve learned to date is from the book of Genesis (and hulled by reading a lot of other books on being a woman, dating and marriage). God created woman by taking a rib out of Adam and forming her.

“And the rib, which the LORD God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man.” (Genesis 2:22)

It took me a long time for it to sink in that: 1. God deliberately makes a woman and 2. Eve was a woman before being called a woman by Adam.

“And Adam said, This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man.” (Genesis 2:23)

The first point means my sexuality is not an accident. God initiated it, God created it. In the same way that He has lovingly created me to be a melancholic, neat freak, book geek, He has created me a woman. There has got to be a purpose to this, a uniqueness in how I am to reflect His glory to the world and how I was created to respond to God, to men and to other women. This was something Carolyn Mahaney talked about in one of the sermons I downloaded from the Council of Biblical Manhood and Womanhood, but what can I say, I’m a slow learner.

The second point means I am a woman with or without a man, with or without the clothes/make-up. The environment I grew up does not make me any less or more a woman than I was created to be. So while we have varying degrees of kakikayan, there isn’t a cut-off that determines that you are a woman. Created and raised in different countries and domestic situations does not change this fact either. I am not more of a woman if my mother allowed me to experiment with her make-up and wear her high heels when I was five and I’m not any less of a woman if I climbed trees, scraped my knees raw and enjoyed biking (yes, some of our relatives were aghast to know I did these things!). My femininity doesn’t rest on the fact that I was dressed in, uhm, dresses and given dolls and was encouraged to play house, bake cookies, etc. From the very start of my existence, I was created to be a woman. I am a woman.

This has been all incredibly freeing for me and has given me a fresh spark of hope. But, I do apologize, I have to go check on my widdle project now. Will write on this more soon.