The Health Saga

"The secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age." - Lucille Ball

People have been asking me how come I'm proudly embracing the fact that I'm turning 40 this year. I have blogged about it. I have contemplated putting up a talent show for my gifted friends of the same age. I even organized a joint birthday party for my high school batch entitled "40 is the New Sexy." We rocked that videoke jeans party like the silly teenagers we once were.

Photo credit: www.desh.biz

Well, if you can't beat turning 40, I said you might as well celebrate it. And I embraced this even as early as March last year, when I resigned from my job and left the country to take stock of life and regain my bearings. Upon my return since March of this year, however, everything I had left behind and even some more matters that I had encountered the past year required my attention.  In full, crashing force.

My health was the first to announce its agenda. Since being cured of astigmatism in high school, I had to start wearing eyeglasses again last March. So first doctor, ophthalmologist. I finally got to use the cool eyewear frame that my sister sent me from the States. I embraced this change Ella-style, certainly fashion-forward and with a lot of selfies.

Then, I set a swimming date with my nephews at their family condo's pool. When I got there I was having the headache of a lifetime and my brother discovered that my blood pressure was off the charts. I did not get to swim, to the dismay of my nephews, even as I had every intention to exercise. Instead, I had to lie down, rest (a strange word) and pray for the energy to drive back home. Being asymptomatic, I did not know that I was hypertensive. Or probably I knew but was ignoring it. Or perhaps it was the plateful of crab fat (yummy aligue) that I had for lunch the Sunday before. I am sad to report that I have not eaten crab since then. So the second doctor that I was sent to was an internist. He took my BP from my left arm, shook his head, and took it from my right arm as well.  He then prescribed maintenance medications for hypertension and instructed me to go through a battery of tests just to check my overall health.

The week after, armed with my test results and a bad cough, I returned to the internist. He prescribed cough medicines and then told me I had to see a hematologist because I was anemic. I asked if he could just make his own conclusions because I did not want to go to another doctor (wishful thinking, in hindsight). He simply said that it was important that I see a hematologist. He recommended one from the same hospital. I returned the next day following the doctor's schedule given by the hospital guards, but alas, said hematologist was out of the country. I called up another hospital, and all of my friends who were related to doctors, for another referral. At this point the fact that I had no medical insurance coverage was sinking in.

I received two referrals, one for a male hematologist, and another for a female one. I went to the one who held clinic on a Saturday, as my family was beginning to worry. In the process, I missed my high school barkada outing to Las Casas de Acuzar, a place I had long wanted to visit. So I was really sulking inside by the time I got to the doctor's clinic. When he saw my blood test results, he said in other cases he would already recommend transfusion. That scared me. He wanted me to go through a whole lot of tests to determine the cause of my anemia. I found myself complaining at the discomfort level of those prescribed tests. I obeyed him on some tests but not for the others. I had to miss a family outing for that. Summer came and left without me seeing the ocean. More sulking.

In the meantime, my blood pressure continued to be high, despite the medication. I was constantly feeling tired and even bordered on depression. I had, at the same time, job interviews, as my career was in need of a makeover. In fact my agenda upon returning from Australia was just that - find a job. My body disagreed with me. Listening to my body, I wanted a second opinion on my anemia and went to the other specialist, the female hematologist. I waited outside her clinic for hours in the intense summer heat. By the time she was able to see me, she took my BP and we both got shocked because it was at 176/111. Regarding my anemia, she recommended two more tests, but she was pretty certain that it was not serious. I texted my family that I was going to rest at a nearby Starbucks before driving home. Unknown to me, my brother consulted his cardiologist and learned that I was at risk for stroke. When I got home, he was waiting for me and told me I needed to see a cardiologist.

I had lost count by this time of the hospitals, clinics, and doctors I had been to. All I knew was that I had to see another specialist. I talked to my father and asked him to set an appointment with his cardiologist. I had no job, and mounting medical bills. Thank God for the support of family.

The cardiologist is a brilliant doctor who explained everything and encouraged me to take care of my health more seriously. He was the one who synthesized all that was possibly happening to me. He had the best bedside manner, and I wanted to hug him. (I have previously been known to hug a specialist, my Dr. House, who diagnosed me of an ailment I was suffering from since birth, which was the precursor to this saga.) He adjusted my medication and prescribed the proper heart rate for when I am exercising and when I am at rest. He also ordered more tests, as I had unexplained bleeding. He also asked me to see an obstetrician-gynecologist, and he happened to know of a good one, his wife, whose clinic was just next door. After weeks of queuing up at doctor's offices, I was really happy to be the first patient of the OB-GYN. She ordered more ultrasound tests.

I completely detached from job hunting as it was too much to handle. I just sent my resume whenever a friend referred me to an opening, but did not anymore stress over it. I accepted a project but had to resign because I was neither fit nor ready to work. I then watched my diet and took up zumba classes on top of my regular walking. I also went with my parents to the mall week after week to watch movies and enjoy my unplanned vacation.

The tests had to be timed and one by one, I was cleared. My friend, a radiologist, did an ultrasound test of my liver, kidney, and bladder and did not note anything unusual. Then a harrowing experience with an OB sonologist yielded news that there was some improvement in my ovaries since my last ultrasound. My iron levels and this thing called electrophoresis were the last scheduled tests before I returned to the hematologist. I got the results last Friday and the other day, returned to the hematologist. She confirmed that my anemia was not causing the hypertension, and that I had something that 1/3 of Filipinos suffered from, alpha thalassemia trait (yes, I love talking medical now, after reading and watching "The Fault in Our Stars"). She even took me off medication.

I was so happy after that last consultation but could not help thinking, what was that all about? Why did I have a grand hospital tour since March? Why did I have to go through so many tests? My parents said that they were thankful that nothing was seriously wrong with me physically, that I did not need to go through surgery. At least when I start my new job and my new life as a 40-year old woman, I could embrace a healthier me.

I still have to go back to the cardiologist and report all these, plus my exercise activities. I will do it after this week of job applications, which thankfully kept moving even without my deliberate attention, and after my short break to try the simple life in the province.

I have also been in touch with my spiritual director, the best doctor of all, who as a psychologist can manage my intellectual and mental state, and as a priest is able to check my emotional and spiritual balance. He is the one who invited me to look at the blessings of turning 40, of knowing myself better and being stronger after so many trials. (After reading this, he mentioned that he was also going through his post-turning-40-transition. He is really the perfect companion for this journey, and I am sad that he is leaving the Philippines soon for further studies. The lessons I have learned from him were timely, bordering on perfect.)

It has been a tough journey, and in fact I am still dealing with a lot of backlog, but I am now able to celebrate more the gift of life. The other day, as I was eating strawberry ice cream with some friends, which was a favorite but something I had had to give up for health reasons, I felt happy. I knew who were with me in sickness and in health. More than the doctors, my family and friends have been a great source of strength and courage.

I look forward to the next chapter of life, which is coming very soon. I put all my trust in God, who has been with me, and who has gone there before me.

Reentry, Gathering, and My Chance for a Do-Over

Reentry, defined.

1. a retaking possession; especially :  entry by a lessor on leased premises on the tenant's failure to perform the conditions of the lease
2. a second or new entry
3. a playing card that will enable a player to regain the lead
4. the action of reentering the earth's atmosphere after travel in space

Reenter, defined.

1. to go into (a place you have left) again
2. to go back into (a game that you were participating in earlier)
3. to type in (words, data, etc.) again on a computer

GATHER ME (PRAYER TO THE GOOD SHEPHERD)

Words: Johnny Go, SJ

Music: Ginny Pantig

Gather me; every scattered sheep in me.

I'd rather be waiting here for Your voice.

I've seen the life outdoors,

I think it's time to make a choice.

There's no other course - only Yours.

Shelter me; every shattered self in me.

Better be waiting here for Your touch.

I've been out there in the rain,

I've hurt myself far too much.

Come and ease my pain again.

Such a weary world

All its ways gone wild

Save this child from the storm

I've been tossed, I've been lost, I've been broken

All my wounded days

All the bitter tears

I have shed for all these years

But You were there all my life

Gather me, shelter me

Safe in Your arms

So please gather me;

the scattered laughter in me

Only You can make me whole.

Come and ease my battered soul.

Shepherd me -

Come and lead me home to You.

I prepared for my coming home by  bracing myself for the worst. I convinced myself that my happy days had ended and I was going to face a life of work and sacrifice again. I did not know if I could drive or find a job or reconnect with old friends. I know, how optimistic, right.

Well, the Lord has proven me wrong immediately, for aside from the warm welcome from my best friends, I also got an invitation to go on a retreat/holiday to Baguio City, the country's summer capital. I realized immediately that I had limited God again. Of course He was waiting for me in the Philippines, to be with me and to "gather me, all the scattered sheep in me."  I spent last weekend in a spacious hotel with sprawling grounds covered in pine trees, where I had uninterrupted time of prayer. The unplanned aspects of the trip included a visit to the BenCab museum, a return to Cafe by the Ruins, and a respite at the lobby of The Manor. At the end of that retreat, I readily admitted that I had the same God taking care of me here as the One who supplied for all my needs in Australia.

View from the cafe at BenCab Museum in Baguio

So when I visited my spiritual director, I shared about my experiences going back - the job interviews, the time spent with family, the friends who have welcomed me, and the God whom I had known more intimately. He introduced a word to me that captured the experience: reentry. He said that I had a wonderful chance to "do-over" everything, and I seemed to be on the right track.

"Do-over" is defined as an "opportunity to try or perform something a second time."

I am grateful for while I reenter this place I have left, and after all my travels, I am faced with good opportunities. 

People who leave correctional or prison facilities are given reentry programs "designed to assist incarcerated individuals with a successful transition to their community after they are released" (US Office of National Drug Control Policy). The Obama Administration’s National Drug Control Strategy supports comprehensive change within the criminal justice system, promoting a combined public health/public safety approach to stop the cycle of arrest, incarceration, release, and re-arrest.

Space shuttle re-entry is more complex and is done in stages, as explained in "The Physics of Space Shuttle Re-Entry."

The Fundamental Problem in Re-Entry

The phase of a spaceflight during which the craft leaves earth orbit and descends through the upper atmosphere is generally known as 're-entry'. In order to be in stable earth orbit in the first place, the craft must have attained and maintained a critical velocity. This orbital velocity is nearly 30 times the speed of sound - around a little under 8 kilometres per second. If the craft moves any more slowly than this, it will descend to a lower orbit under the influence of gravity. Because the craft will now encounter atmospheric resistance, it will lose energy and fall to earth.

In order to make a safe landing, a returning spacecraft has to lose nearly all of that orbital speed. The operation is basically a reversal of the launch phase, and this means that the returning craft must sink as much kinetic energy as the propulsion systems generated between lift-off and orbit. Theoretically speaking, there are four fundamentally different methods of doing this:

Powered Deceleration
Energy Exchange
Mass Shedding
Energy Dissipation

I could obviously talk more about restorative justice than orbital velocity, but I would leave both topics for now and just think about how to manage my own reentry into this place I have left behind, in order to make a safe landing. Surprisingly, the above discussion on space shuttle re-entry provided me further points of reflection.

If my driving is any indication, I need not have worried. I returned to the streets of Manila and Taguig and even drove as far as Paranaque for a wake, with little adjustment needed. God is good. All shall be well.

Another Season of Farewells

I am going home soon. The OFF year is ending. The ON year is coming.

It is the lunar new year's eve, so it is still a good time to contemplate on new beginnings.

Being far away from home, from all that was familiar, all that I could (or tried to) control, and all that I had going for me, has changed me a lot. It has also introduced me to deeper levels of my idiosyncrasies.

A person can only take rejection from the world so much, and the past year was an exercise in that. Whereas before I could easily cry on a friend's shoulder, this time I had to face my challenges more squarely in the face, as most of my friends are overseas. Although I still asked for help where available, the usual suspects could not easily come with a cup of coffee to sort out my life for me. Those that had internet access received broken accounts of incomprehensible (foreign, actually) events and realizations, and gave advice based on incomplete narrations. Long distance friendship has been a lesson in independence, one that I needed to take.

I had dinner with some friends last night, the start of my farewell season I guess, and they said they thought my life was all about travel and meeting new people and living a relaxed life. When they learned of some of my misadventures, they realized how deceiving social media could be. Friends are great, they cheer me up for some time, as one of my favorite songs puts it. After an evening of laughter, I came home to the harsh realities of life: I need to get the next chapter of my life going.

But the heart wants what it wants. Therein lies the problem. That has always been my problem. Maybe I want too many things. Maybe I list down too many dreams. Maybe I am never satisfied. Maybe I am a restless soul.

I am very grateful for being where I am and for receiving the kind of support that I did not deserve. I know that God is the one who is in charge of the fine print, and all I have to do is wake up and embrace the day. But I want to know more. Where all this will lead. Why those mistakes happened. Who are the people to rely on at this time. What more I could do to express my heart's desires. How I am going to reconcile my head and my heart. The furthest distance I've ever known is from my head to my  heart. Old songs are filling my head again.

In a moment of gratitude, I counted my blessings: the indisputable truths, the undeniable skills, the incomparable endowments, the unchanging advantages. I told myself to not let any rejection take those away from me, for they were mine and what made me unique, even special. If people did not recognize that, then it is really their loss.

I just need to learn not to feel like I am the one who lost me.

Furthermore, and this is more important, I have a constant, unflinching, loving God. He knows me best. I have been talking to Him in prayer; He is in charge. He will not let me down. He is taking away all that is not good for me. His denials are His greatest mercies. I have proven and tested countless times how He works behind-the-scenes and how He always provides the happy ending.

It is because I have this God that I am not losing hope in anything, although everything is still uncertain.

One thing at a time. For now, this is certain: I am going home, and that is where I am meant to be.

  

Now Showing: Spirit of Life Interviews

I have the privilege to share with you the insights of my personal coach, Corey Payton.

Last year, I wrote about Life After Life Coaching, and the deep impact it has made in my life. Recognizing my goals and identifying the hindrances from reaching those goals have been a major part of my decision to take a year off from full-time work to be more in touch with who I want to become. Yes, my Gap Year discernment started with the coaching sessions.  I went through formal spiritual direction/counseling with a priest a few months after that (see New Stop in the Journey) but I was greatly helped by my personal coach.

Corey was interviewed on Melbourne TV recently. It aired on two episodes of Spirit of Life. He talks about his faith journey since childhood in the first episode.



The second interview is more about coaching and the topics he is going to discuss when he speaks before the Christian Singles Conference this November.



I was blessed by his sharing and his insights, and I am sure many people will be when they watch this video and attend this conference.

Corey is behind Life Horizons Coaching and is an active part of Evergreen. 

With Friends Like These...

My parish friends had fun teasing me this morning.  We just had a tour of our new building and were cooling ourselves under a tree when our parish priest told us that there would be a mass wedding at our church in July, during the fiesta.  

Since this meant the wedding fees would be much lower (to share the altar with four score and seven other couples), I asked if I could have my wedding then.  I was told, "If you could book a groom by then, go ahead."  I laughed.  Then I looked at our clubhouse.  Then I looked at my friend's white car.  I asked him, "Can I borrow this as wedding car?"  He said, "Be my guest.  But the groom has to be captured first."

This started off all sorts of ideas on how Ate Ella could find a suitable groom.  I already had the church, the choir, the clubhouse, and the car.  One young friend of mine suggested that there should be an advertisement, "Huge Savings If You Marry Ate Ella."  They assigned someone to look for potential husbands for me.  I laughed with them.  There were suggestions to just marry anyone, to meet the deadline of submission of required documents.  I laughed some more. This was not the first time we were having this kind of conversation. 

Then I got home, had lunch with my parents, cooked dinner, folded the laundry, and got to thinking that I was not in a rush.  I don't need the "discount".  I am happy where I am.  Marriage is not necessarily a happier place.  In fact, if I ask a lot of friends, it isn't happy at all.

I have been thinking that being by myself, serving God, having wonderful friends and family, traveling at least once a year, indulging in my passions, expressing my talents, and learning new skills, I am so happy already.  I could live with this for the rest of my life.

I'm just not sure if I'm meant to.  But that's a question to be answered another day.

Lorraine's Coffee Blues

Lorraine heard the doorbell and she jumped to her feet. She was disappointed to see that it was only the messenger from her credit card company. She was waiting for the mailman, to see if she had mail from her man.

So maybe he was not exactly her man yet, but surely he was on his way to becoming one. After all, her friends and even her officemates said, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder”. Greg was very, very fond of her before he left for the States. She was hoping the distance could help push him to grow fonder.

Her younger cousin Rita, who shared her apartment with her, noticed her looking out the window. She rolled her eyes and said, “Lorraine, don’t tell me you’re still waiting for a postcard from the other end of the world. No one sends postcards anymore! It’s just so.. so… I don’t know.. so analog!”

Lorraine pouted and retorted, “You don’t know Greg. He values traditional things. He writes down his notes on yellow pad. He carries a Filofax instead of a Blackberry. He said he would send postcards, and I believe him. Just wait and see.”

Greg was on vacation with his family, with scheduled trips to around seven different states, and he promised Lorraine she could travel vicariously through his postcards.

He had been gone three weeks and all she got was a postcard from the first hotel he stayed in, the Manele Bay Hotel in Hawaii. She was not worried, for it took 10 days before that postcard arrived.

Lorraine covered for Greg’s accounts at work while he was away. It was no burden to her really as they were on the same sales area anyway, and she knew most of his clients. She did not need to e-mail him for anything as he had properly endorsed his accounts to her.

She missed him at day’s end, however, for he usually was the one she had late dinner with. On weekends, he’d drive past her house to take her malling. She often had good suggestions on what gifts to give his mom or his sister. She was his fashion consultant, coffee buddy, office ally, and shopping assistant. It was only a matter of time before he would notice her, she convinced herself. She only had to play her cards right.

Her officemates kept telling her that she was being naïve. Greg had broken up with his girlfriend of seven years because he was not sure if he wanted to get married. He was not in the market for a girlfriend, let alone wife, material – all the things Lorraine hoped to be in his life.

Rita asked her once, “Has he ever complimented you on the way you looked? About your hair, your complexion, your outfit, or even your perfume?”

“Hmm, no… not yet, but-“

“Oh, Lorraine, you are living in a fantasy world! If a guy likes you, he would tell you immediately.”

“I sometimes catch him staring at me…”

“… Is it followed by a request for a cup of coffee from the pantry? Who died and made you his secretary?”

“You’re wrong about this, Rita,” Lorraine insisted. “We have a connection. He’s just not ready for a serious relationship yet. I can wait.”

Rita shook her head and said, “If I were a betting woman, you’d be destitute at the end of this short-lived drama. Wake up and smell the roses. Better yet, read that book ‘He’s Not That Into You’. That should remind you of your place in his life –“

“I’m his best friend”, Lorraine proudly quipped.

“If a man needs a best friend, he’d get a dog”, Rita sagely concluded. “You should quit fooling yourself.”

Lorraine was so upset after this conversation that she decided to e-mail Greg. She knew he had limited Internet access, being on travel and all, but he said she could always reach him through e-mail if she had urgent questions about work.

She asked him about a dormant client who called, but whose account history he did not endorse to her, and very innocently inserted that she had not heard from him in quite a while and was wondering if postcards were already phased out in the States.

She pressed the SEND button before thinking, “Uh-oh. That sounded too needy.”

He did not reply. She kept herself busy while he was away. She arranged his files. She got a haircut. She read a book, not what Rita suggested, but the one entitled “Office Romance: The Guide to Success in Career and Lovelife”. It bored her so much that it became a regular read before bedtime. At least it made her stop thinking of him at night.

On the day before his arrival, Lorraine dropped by his apartment – he gave her the only extra key so she could help him watch over his stuff – to water the plants and hang a “Welcome Home” banner. She also stocked the fridge with his favorite ice cream, and bought him a brand-new French-press coffee maker, the one he kept inspecting at Starbucks whenever they hung out there. She left a tiny note below the bright gold ribbon, “Realized that the best brew is the one I have with you.”

She left the apartment wondering if her note was too affectionate and revealing, and decided that it was but she didn’t care, because surely, after weeks and weeks without her to fix his life, he would be practically running into her arms and begging her not to leave his side for the rest of his life anymore. Her note was a little nudge in the right direction.

She woke up the next day in bright spirits. She dressed carefully for work, hoping that she would get invited for dinner by the man who must have brought home souvenirs and trinkets from all over America, for her.

She checked her watch and imagined his plane landing. She thought of him pulling his heavy suitcase, going through immigration and customs, and finally getting a cab. Before he left, she asked if he wanted her to pick him up from the airport, but he said he did not want her to be absent from work just for him. She knew she was daydreaming again at work so she tried to snap back to reality.

His plane was supposed to arrive at 1 p.m., yet by coffee break time, he still had not texted her to announce his arrival. She checked whether the plane was delayed, and upon learning through the Internet that it had arrived on schedule, she dialed his mobile number. It was turned off. She realized he might not have had the time to charge his phone, or he might have forgotten to turn it on, in the busyness of his flight home.

She could not wait to leave the office and at 6 p.m., she decided to surprise him by bringing his favorite pizza over. She could have just called the pizza company, but she thought her showing up on his doorstep with a box of thin-crust would look so cute.

Her plan turned out to be difficult to execute because the minute she stepped out of her office, fat, heavy raindrops poured from the sky. By the time she arrived at his apartment building, she was soaking wet. The pizza, however, remained protected under her umbrella.

She rang the doorbell. No one answered. She waited. She was about to ring it again when the door opened, and there was Greg, looking like he was showered and ready to go out.

Her heart skipped a bit. She did not know it could actually do that. She thought writers just made it up, but it turned out that words were not even enough to describe the experience.

Lorraine was staring at the man of her dreams, and he was staring back. He did not look as pleased as she had hoped he would. In fact, he frowned a little and asked, “Hi Lor! What are you doing here?”

“Uh, hi. I’ve come to bring you pizza. Thought you would be hungry. And uhh, welcome back!” Needy, stalker, fatal attraction-woman! she chided herself.

A female voice from inside the apartment said, “Honey, it’s raining outside and I only brought my Prada shoes, do you think—“

The voice turned out to be a tiny, Beyonce-big-haired lady in a dress Lorraine was sure revealed more than it covered, who said “Oh. I didn’t know someone was at the door.”

Greg, who had been staring at Lorraine, her dripping umbrella, and her huge yellow box of pizza, seemed to pause for a split-second before saying, “Honey, I want you to meet Lorraine Castro, my officemate. Lorraine, this is Anna. My fiancée. We met in Hawaii. It’s a very long and interesting story. Would you like to come in? You look a little pale, it must be all that rain on your dress. It’s a lovely dress, by the way. You look lovely in it.”

Officemate. Fiancee. Officemate vs. fiancée.

Lorraine was of the mind to drop the pizza, hit Greg with her umbrella, and pour all the rainwater on Anna’s precious little Pradas. Instead she said, “Yes, I’d like to come in for a while, just until the rain stops. Thank you.”

Once inside, she could smell the coffee. Anna said, “I didn’t know you had Starbucks in the Philippines. This made me feel at home immediately. Thank you for your gift!”

Who the ---- was this Anna and why did she touch my French press? Lorraine thought. She wanted to search the apartment for her little note, but realized it was too late. Anna had probably read it already and sized her up as “The Enemy”. Or, she could be gloating inside and thinking of Lorraine as “The Loser”.

She wanted to leave the minute she stepped in that apartment. But she also wanted to hear the story of how Greg met this girl whose suitcases were spread all over his living room.

“Was she planning on staying here?” Lorraine thought, scandalized. Some considered her conservative in her views about man-woman relationships, but she had always seen it as simply doing the right thing in the most important relationship she was going to make in her entire life.

So Lorraine, as polite, proper, and perfect as she had always been, sat down for a cup of coffee with the man of her dreams, and the girl who sat on his lap.

It was a cold, rainy, summer night.  She also thought that writers made up scenes like that, with claps of thunder and bolts of lightning, but such was the picture while Greg regaled Lorraine with stories of his whirlwind romance with Anna, who was silently purring at him, in front of Lorraine's shocked eyes.

By the time she got home, she expected Rita to be asleep, but hoped she would not be.

Rita heard the key turning and waited by the door to ask her immediately, “So, how did the great big reunion go? Did he miss you? Did he kiss you? Why are your eyes red? My gosh, Lorraine, what happened?”

And Lorraine proceeded to tell Rita how right she was. Greg was so not into her.  Lorraine cried the whole night. And the whole week. And the whole month.

At the end of the year, Greg married Anna in Honolulu.

Lorraine was at Starbucks that day, writing in her blog from her cellphone, celebrating the gift of technology, and telling the world of the two things she had learned from that year:

1. If a guy you fancy treats you like his best friend, go buy him a dog, and don’t offer to take it for walks, pick up the tab for the vet, or clean up the poo. It’s his dog, and his best friend. You are a woman. Be one.


2. A woman should stick to her values, but it would not hurt if she wore more dresses instead of suits. They’re cheaper, and actually look lovelier.

(Wrote this on a cold summer night.  I'm looking for  a better title to this story.  Post a comment if you have a suggestion, please.)

A Hopeless Romantic

Once in a while, art does imitate life.

Presenting... "A Hopeless Romantic" by Harriet Evans. A friend told me about this book and we got so curious that she finally bought it. She's reading it now. I'm next in line.

The book is about Laura, who fell for her friend, who happens to be, IMHO, a jerk.

To cure her heart, she travels with her parents and goes on a vacation trip.

Oh stop, the similarities must end there!

I'll read it first and then tell you if I still need to write a book about my life, or if it already had been written in London.

Check out the synopsis from amazon.com:

Synopsis

The warm and enchanting new novel from the bestselling author of "Going Home". Laura Foster was a hopeless romantic. It was her greatest character flaw, for it was the one thing that genuinely got her into trouble! Her friends know it, her parents know it - even Laura acknowledges she lives either with her head in the clouds or buried in a romantic novel. But what's wrong with seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses, even if it's not delivered her a real-life dashing hero yet? But when Laura's latest relationship ends in disaster rather than a glorious sunset, she swears off men, and particularly hopeless romantic fantasies, for good. With her life in tatters around her, she foolishly agrees to go on holiday with her parents and grandmother (combined age nearly 200!). After a few days of traipsing round Norfolk craft shops and National Trust properties, Laura's ready to tear her hair out. And then, she meets prickly but sexy Nick, estate manager at Chartley Hall, one of the country's greatest stately homes. She swiftly finds she shares more than just a sense of humour with him - in fact, she starts to think she could fall for him. But is Nick all he seems? Or has Laura got it wrong again? Will he be the one who makes her enter the convent permanently or is he The One who could thaw her frozen heart?

The author's other novel is entitled "The Love of Her Life".  Chick flicks and chick lit are such a guilty pleasure these days. Makes me want to write me own and give those London gals a run for their money.

The Grass is not Necessarily Greener on the Other Side

"If you were bleeding before, you're gushing now."

Astute observation from another person, if I may say so.  At least I felt validated in my feelings of panic and depression when he gave that comment.  I had reason to go mad, and I could blame it on the series of circumstances around me.  Or I could stand up, walk, and live.

I had coffee with a good friend in between a busy day for both of us.  I looked up to this friend, for she had it all - beauty, brains, talents, husband, career, kids, community.  While I could not even figure out where I would be nine years from now (a question I had to answer for an insurance agent).  I was poised and ready to pour out my heartaches to this trusted, dependable friend.

I was surprised that she had her fair share of woes.  I said how could she complain when she, let me repeat it, had it all?  I used to sing "I just want to be where you are" to this girl (instead of to God, I know, idolatry).  I told her she should be thankful she had someone to share life with, her triumphs and failures, her dreams and miseries.  I reminded her that single people went through life insecure and alone at times.

She said that when you get married, your problems are multiplied.  Aside from your own family's concerns, you absorb your husband's family's issues, your yaya's, your helper's, your driver's, and it would seem as if no one would eat in your household if you don't wake up early enough to make the decisions.

Just when I was falling down regarding my own troubles, this friend of mine also wanted to rebel against everyone and to be irresponsible for one second.  We both could not afford to.

The bottom line was that we were no longer young and we had to face our responsibilities as adults.  We were each on the side where the other thought that the grass was greener, and we reminded each other that it was not.  We did not give in to hopelessness and despair.  As sisters in Christ, we remembered that we could go through life - however broken or broke we'd become - in Him who strengthened us.

My circumstances have not changed but bit by bit, I am gaining acceptance of it all.  

By the way, do visit the blog of another friend of mine, http://cautionstudentdriver.blogspot.com.  Her entries are both heartwarming and funny.  Her outlook in life is both fresh and refreshing.  She lives up to her name:  Gay.