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.’
Part of a hand-written note by a renowned and admirable Filipino author..He dropped it off at my office this morning:
"There was a girl…
There was a boy…
If they had met
They would have found
A world of joy…
But she lived on
The morning side of the mountain…
And he lived on
The twilight side of the hill…"
"Pag ako ang unang tumawag or mag-text, Hindi na ako cool."
(Ergo, siya ang hot.)
"He’s no longer just a possiblity. He’s now a probability."
Karla and I, in the kindness of her heart, and flexibility of her schedule, spent two consecutive Mondays trekking our way to Staten Island.
There’s a certain uncertainty of making a trip out there alone. The concept of taking the ferry, and then a bus, in the land of the unknown. Kinda like taking a Jersey girl to Manhattan, or a Manhattanite to Jersey. You can easily lose your way.
So if no local can take you around, bring two venturers together for a greater adventure, an easier search and a surer stride.
