Rollercoaster Ride

I’ve always wondered … how Mike acts in a courtroom…how Audie talks to his models and his team…what Anna is learning is Med School..what Christie’s day feels like…how Margarita helps solve the climate crises from the UN…and how Jan does it from the UK.

And I learned that it is actually possible to find out, when Karla tagged along a whole day on my birthday this year…a late rise, lunch at Mercer Kitchen, shopping at my favorite store, (hop on train) pick up stuff from the office, (hop on train) then drink and chat with a bunch of friends — 25 of ‘em - at the sleek Hudson Hotel.

Having heard of, bought and read my book before we met, she’d wondered - as I have of my friends’ - how my days are like.  A huff and puff while getting off the F on Rockefeller Center, and gold stilettos atow, she says, "A day in the life of Carissa… now I know. "

(That’s one in 365 different days…I’ll tell of Sept 18 and 19 2007 next.)

And so, now you know that I would love to tag along and be a first-hand observer to your days too…I feel that we all do something new and interesting every day…that’s what makes life worth living.

As I always say, it matters not what body or economy we were born in. We were born in the world. And the most important and most impressive thing, is what we do while we’re in it.

I have never heard this line before…but when my coworker and I were talking about our  friends who weighed less than us, this was what she said, "I love me. I don’t care."

Well hmmm…though I’ve never thought it nor said it, I think I love me too…  Let’s all say it together!

PS
I do always say that ‘I love my life.’ I really do!

Whenever my thoughts revert back to my immediate past, I next tell myself that at least I will not be asked to give up anything that I value and valued for most of my life: my family, my religion, my language, my culture, my country, and my city.

Fairy tale books say ‘Home is where the heart is.’ Then modern life reveals ‘Home is where your work is.’ But after hearing so many stories of home, the truth is, ‘Home is where your ‘John’ is.’

And sometimes, depending on his history, nationality, or work situation, that home could be in Kuwait, Israel or Rwanda. My friend recently said, "You in Kuwait? Yeah, right…And you won’t want to live in Israel, either."

They’re right. Though against all odds is always an option, I am STILL so in love with New York, and I still love my life so much.

Legend: ‘John’ is replaceable by Martin, Rudy, Eddie, Jay, Michael, Robert or whatever name the other person in your life has.

Gidget told me today that she, Karla and Lora came up with the "Carissa Rules" they’ve observed in the times that we’ve hung out. I never thought about it before. But these came to mind (Theirs: 1-2, Mine: 1-5):

Never wait for anyone any place where you can’t do anything  (Go ahead and do something.)

Never ask why they’re leaving and ask them to stay. (Let them make their own decision and respect it.)

Never stay in a place that is not working for you. (Leave in the middle of a movie,  a book, or a relationship, a party, or a job as soon as you feel like it. Your time is too precious.)

Never say anything negative about another person.(Unless you have written evidence of the things they’ve said that annoyed you, or you have  witnesses to their comments and quips)

Never wear anything you don’t feel good in. (Get rid of clothes and stuff that you didn’t pick out yourself if they don’t work for you. And never buy anything for any other reason than because you like it!)

When Gia asked me tonight to describe the guy we were talking about, the first word that came to mind and mouth was this: Flaky.

"What’s that?" she asked

I answered, "Unreliable. Does not keep his word."

I always knew that the words ‘flake’ and ‘flaky’ only entered my vocabulary and understanding when I came to New York. This social practice and reality was not at all present in in the Philippines. In our interactions in the first 21 years of my life, people don’t usually back out. They show up. Palabra de honor. Thinking back, I realize that a lot of the guys I know, or we know here, are flakes. Some of them are even Pinoy. Flakiness probably showers every newcomer at their first New York winter.

So yesterday, I called my friends up and asked, "Hey, can I flake out tonight? Can I be the flaky one this time?"

They didn’t ask why. I just didn’t show up. And it was actually liberating.

PS

Another New York word? ‘Shady.’

What is it in our brains that makes us think of one song, or one boy, over and over and over and over and over again?

Is it a melody or a rhythm? Or a face or a voice that’s on repeat mode long after our ipods have run out of batt?

They say you never stop thinking about a boy until you meet a new one. You never stop humming a song ’til you hear another one.

So sing me a new song.

Sometimes you just want to take the ‘wonder’ out of ‘wonderful.’