Cam’s Blog

There is nothing beautiful nor inspired about this blog entry. no attempt to be poetic, intellectual, relevant nor politically correct. i didnt even bother with a spell or grammar check. this is just pure selfish, bratty and very satisfying complaining. i am alone and self-supporting in a foreign country and im angry and frustrated. indulge me.

1. i hate my job. my boss is a slavedriving, greedy bitch who is exploiting me due to my green card-less existence. everyday, i feel like my talents are being wasted in this thankless job, which made me resent the profession i once loved. at the end of the day, i am a physically, mentally and emotionally burned out piece of toast who takes comfort in the anticipation of getting my green card. and of someday suing the ass off my boss. and my designer bags.

2. i have no real family here to speak of. my cousins’ idea of family are people who, at the slightest hint of success, are to be gossiped about and taken down. My auntie and her family has been nothing short of wonderful to me but we never really developed a real connection such that our encounters are nothing more than mere pleasantries. So, in the event of a nervous breakdown or a heartbreak, i can only close my eyes and imagine the comfort of my mom’s embrace, my dad’s soothing words and my brothers’ reassuring pat in the back. It gets worse during the holidays, when id rather sleep and get it over with than go through the motions of a souless California Christmas.

3. the only thing that makes my job bearable are my coworkers who are thankfully all Filipino and some of those have been my friends. i hate to write this out of fear of being insincere or ungrateful because i do love their company.but i guess the friendship is confined to the workplace or the club or whatever place we hang out in. I don’t really have anyone to call at night just to talk to. What i would give to have even just one girlfriend i can completely be myself with. i guess i also have myself to blame for putting up an indifferent facade. Could it be a protective mechanism i have developed for being in a foreign environment?whatever it is, im sure my dysfunctional personality is part of the problem.and no, my insurance doesnt cover a therapist.

4. and so, due to number 3, i find solace in shopping, which thankfully, is something i really enjoy doing by myself. as a result, i have way too many party dresses than parties to go to. and how can you say no to an obscenely expensive gucci/louis vuitton/chanel purse when your id is screaming "You have no friends, no family and you kill yourself with work, YOU DESERVE IT!!!" So, bankruptcy is the next possible thing that could happen, because that’s exactly the kind of shit i get myself into. I hate to say this, but thank goodness for a job  that supports my very expensive coping mechanism.

5. My boyfriend, of one year this month;-) Now, there are certainly things to complain about him but somehow being head over heels in love, it doesn’t seem to matter. It never ceases to amaze me how perfectly another person would fit into my life. He is smart, funny and unpretentious. He fills the void that all of the above left but at the same time, gives me enough space to grow. Best of all, he loves to shop with me! If im a gucci-whore, then he’s an armani-whore! But i can say, beyond reasonable doubt that he is not gay:-)So why is he in my list?Probably because  everyday is a constant battle to be the mature and understanding girlfriend he deserves and half the time i dont really feel mature and understanding. Sometimes, when he’s out in the club with the boys and im home alone, i would drive myself crazy trying to stop myself from calling him every 5 minutes. I try not to be the psycho-bitch control-freak girlfriend that my first boyfriend ran away from.I try so hard in fact that it feels like a full time job. How ironic is it that when i have finally found my perfect guy, i’m the one who’s so fucked up.

And there you are. I know that amidst all the problems that the world is facing, writing this will make me sound like a selfish, superficial airhead. But for now, just for now, i have no apologies.

XO:New job huh!I heard, congratulations!

Me:Yeah, it’s all happening…

XO:Good for you, wow…we should celebrate!On your last day here, how ’bout dinner?

Me:Yeah!that would be great!….Wait…are you asking me out again?I already told you…

XO:Of course not!I’m just being a nice guy…Ok, I’m asking you out…

Me:We talked about this…

XO: Well…

Me:Ok. Do you have a secret girlfriend?

XO: What?!

Me:Who will go all psycho on me and make my life a living hell?

XO:What?! No!!

Me:Do you have any plans at all of screwing any of my girlfriends?

XO:Uhm…all of your girlfriends are in the Philippines…

Me:That’s beside the point!

XO:Ok, you’re making me nervous…

Me:Do you think that I am too perfect?

XO:Sheesh Camille…

Me: Just answer it…

XO: Well, your parking kinda sucks…so no…

Me:Ok

XO:Uhmm….what just happened?

Me:I have issues. Now, do you still want to ask me out?

XO:Uhmm….yes…

Me:OK. Friday?

XO:You’re saying yes?

Me:Yup.

XO:Oh wow.Wow.

Something happened to me over the weekend. Something new, something that has, quite possibly, never happened to me.

I woke up and there was no more bitterness nor regret. I felt no need to rationalize. I was not jaded nor cynical.

Instead there was this newfound source of strength, a renewed spirit that can actually hope again. There was this incredible feeling of lightness, like I was being set free. Then, there was this excitement, this overwhelming excitement, on the promise of this new day where eveything is possible.

And then there was this realization, that sometimes, you need to be broken apart because there’s a better way of putting the pieces back together.

Afterwards, there was this smile, this huge, sincere smile that wasn’t
there because of someone else but because of something beautiful that is happening inside.

Holy shit, I think I’m finally growing up.

I like the way you bring me hot chocolate on chilly mornings. I like the gentle way you talk to me. I like the way you learned how to greet me good morning in Filipino, although it came out as "Magandang umaga bibini." LOL. I like it that you pretend not to know a lot of Hollywood gossip, even if it’s so obvious that you’re such an ET junkie like me. I like it that you didn’t try to impress me with fancy flowers and chocolates. I like the yellow tulips. I like that you remembered that yellow makes me happy. I like, no I love, the personalized m&ms. And how the purple ones say princess and the pink ones say camille.I like it that you call me princess.

I like it how you wait for me in the parking lot every day, then pretend that you’re not. I DON’t like it that you’re so into hiphop, but I like it that you don’t pretend to like what i like.I like it that you remember every stupid thing i say, even those that you just "accidentally" overhear. 

I like it that you didn’t freak out when I drunkenly cried like crazy in your car for an hour. Or pretended that you didn’t freak out at least.
I like it how you make me feel that you’re there for me without invading my personal space, because personal space is what I need right now. I like it that you actually understand what it means to take it slow.I like it that you don’t push it when I say no. But I like it that you don’t give up completely. 

I don’t know what’s going to happen next and i dont think im ready to know yet. I like it that I dont feel the need to be superwoman
and move on immediatley. I think I’m okay with just being broken for now. And I like it that you’re "cool with that".

For now, I just like it that I’m starting to smile again. That’s as far as I can get.

A love-hate relationship, that’s what my mom and i always had…

I don’t have a lot of memories of my mom while i was growing up. No memories of her brushing my hair, telling bedtime stories nor baking cookies. Mom wasn’t what exactly what you would call domestic. I was one of those kids with a part-time high-flying career-woman mom and a full-time yaya. My mom’s involvement in my life included attending school programs (just to watch), the weekly Sunday mass and family dinner after wards, the monthly  shopping trips, the yearly family vacation, the required Family Day at school, holidays and birthdays. So during my formative years, i saw my mom as a mother figure, someone who’s present only when absolutely necessary, not as my mommy.

There was a time when we didn’t even live in the same house. My brothers and I lived at our supposed house with our yayas while my parents lived in a penthouse near our stores. In fact we only lived together in one house for four years of my life, my high school years. That was when I started to get acquainted with the reality that is Connie. And man, did reality bite! We clashed from day 1.

She started to get to know the spoiled rotten princess that she unknowingly created and I came face to face with the queen mother of all spoiled rotten princesses. The culprit? My dad. He spoiled us both. We were both used to getting what we want when we want it.That, coupled with matching strong personalities and feisty demeanors makes for a very heated, complicated mother-daughter relationship. I couldn’t stand her intrusiveness,her controlling behaviors, her short temper, her uncanny ability to always be the center of attention. She detested my insecurity, my (then) introversion, my (then)baggy clothes(ugh!what was i thinking!), my all-or-nothing attitude. For four years, we lived in mutual dislike of each other. Of course there were good times. When i had my first boyfriend at 15, my mom was the only person who was actually happy that I have fallen in love. everyone else just thought, "She’s gonna get knocked-up." She was always good for things like that.

College was a breather. It was my first shot at independence and a break from my mom’s controlling ways. I remember the summer before i went off to college. My mom was a nervous wreck about me living so far from home. She was afraid i wouldn’t be able to take care of myself. So, that whole summer, she crammed 16 years worth of things-I-should-have-taught-my-daughter-while-she-was-growing-up-but-didn’t-because-I’m-so-goddamn-busy into my head.

Funny things. "Forget the pepper spray, go for the nuts then run and scream like crazy."
Practical things."When you go out, always split your money, half in your bag and half in your pocket. Or your bra."
Things that I thought were so stupid but turned out to be true after all. "Beware of the guy who seems to be too perfect."

On my very first night at the dorm, guess who i missed the most. Yup. Her.The next day she admitted she missed me a lot more than she expected. And so we began texting. I mean really texting, not just the "where u?" kind of texting. We talked about everything–politics, gossip, religion, shopping, dating– everything. The beauty of being a thousand miles away from my mom is that i got to know her without the pains of actually living with her getting in the way. Mom, for me, is a lot like marijuana, good only in small, controlled doses. And that small dose is more than enough to amp you. OD-ing on her can kill you. (LOL) I got to know her as a wife, as a woman, as a real person. Surprisingly, I liked what i got to know.
Connie is an intelligent, strong-willed, independent woman who makes things happen.

The thing that really cemented our bond was our common love for designer handbags. Rustan’s Bag Department or any handbag shop is like a ceasefire area. No fighting in front of the sacred merchandise. Mom is the best person in the world to shop with.

Me:This is cute.(holds up purse)
Mom:That is cute. Get it!
Me:no.PPP for this,no way!Way too expensive!
mom:What did you get on your last test?This is your reward.
me:are you sure?
mom:Absolutely. I want one too.

Told ya.

So, after 16 years of being her begrudging daughter, I became her friend. We went through my first heartbreak and her struggle with being a high-profile man’s wife. She bolstered my self-confidence during those times when academic competition got the better of me. I listened to her apprehensions about our business.We are now going through my career crisis coupled with a third heartbreak and her perimenopause.(God, she’ll kill me for mentioning that.LOL).

She is my rock. My solace. The glue that keeps me together when others break me apart.

When i was 13, my arguments with my mom would always begin or end with,"What’s your problem? I don’t get you at all". Even after we got really close, we still are polar opposites. To quote one of my favorite songs, "We have our rules in different ways. We play the games of different folks with different strokes…" But now, I look in the mirror and i see a strong-willed, opinionated, independent woman, very much like the woman i used to detest so much. After 21 years of being my mother’s daughter, I think i finally get it.

Happy Mother’s Day Mom. You’re a rockstar!

Today I fell in love.

Yup. I finally did it. I got a car!Woohoo! Meet Tobey.

I named him Tobey, because I’ve had enough of bad boys like Colin, and would happily settle for the slightly dorky boy who is actually the superhero who can save me.

Tobey is a 2007 Toyota Camry LE. This baby comes with a 2.4L I4, 16 valve, 158 hp @ 6000 rpm 5 speed automatic transmission engine and i have no idea wtf that means. He is fully equipped with keyless door entry, power windows, power seats, a JBL Premium Audio (6 speakers total), 6-cd changer, MP3/WMA player, Bluetooth, loads of legroom and my favorite feature of all, a SUNROOF. Oh, California sunshine!

Choosing Tobey is serious business. This boyfriend is slightly out of my league. My angel of a dad offered to pay for the car for at least 3 months, "so you can enjoy your sweldo muna anak." (This guy is totally going to heaven.). But I said, "No thanks dad, I can manage.". Slight chin quivering. LOL. The truth is, I can actually afford this car. But, I have to make some serious spending cutbacks. So no more Seven Jeans. Forget the Tokidoki L’amour. Rest those clubbing shoes. Adieu Nordstrom’s. No more smoking. At least for the next 3 months (more chin quivering) until I become more stable. Boy, this relationship sure takes a lot of sacrifice, but, one look at my Tobey and I know he’s totally worth it. This is me trying to be independent. Wish me luck, I’ll be needing it.

So many states. So little time. You ready, Tobey, sweetie?

They say people think more clearly in the morning…

So, off I went for an early morning walk.

This is the right thing to do. Definitely the right thing.

Things will get better…

and the BEST is yet to come.

Somehow, I will be whole again.

I’ll be fine.

Yes. I think I’ll be fine.

     These past few weeks, I have been bringing the word homesick to new levels–constantly running long-distance calls to the Philippines, begging my mom to "please let me go home!", sulking inside my room like a 6 year-old, sabotaging my chances of actually getting a job, trying to convince immigration lawyers that I know better than them and that i NEED to go home and retake the board exams, living inside my laptop–to no avail. My mom, who has been bearing the brunt of my endless nagging, has been trying to find new ways of making me stay. Her latest efforts resulted in an all expenses paid- 4-night vacation in Las Vegas. So, despite the fact that this is THE LAS VEGAS, I wasn’t  exactly thrilled. My mom promised me that after this trip, I’ll forget about wanting to go home. I was determined to prove her wrong.
   

Day 1
    We, that is, my aunts, uncles, cousin and I, arrived in Las Vegas on a Friday. We spent the first night walking around the strip. I’ve got to admit, Vegas really lives up to its name. The whole place was like one huge party 24/7. So, we went around the main hotels and casinos, the Bellagio, the MGM Grand, Flamingo, the Mirage, Caesar’s Palace, Mandalay Bay, Harrah’s, Treasure island…whew Pretty impressive. But what really made me smile were the Coca-cola museum and M&M world. I know, I am such a dork.

We had a late dinner at the MonamiGabi steakhouse in Paris. Yup, Paris, Vegas, complete with the Eiffel Tower. Despite the fact that it was way smaller than the real thing, I’ve got to admit that it was a freakin good imitation. BUT, when i saw it, i didnt experience the same sense of awe and history that I felt in Paris. So, no, I still wasn’t impressed. (Boy, there’s just no pleasing a homesick girl, LOL).

After dinner, i wanted to get back to hotel to chat with my bee, but my uncle wanted to go to Bally’s and try out his luck. He even gave me 20 bucks so i can bet. I chose a random slot machine and played mindlessly for a while. Then the machine screen suddenly exploded with fireworks. The tiny little box that earlier showed $20 now reads $525. Holy Shit. I wanted to cash out the money immediately, but the crowd that suddenly formed around me urged me to , "Go for more!". And so i did. I went home with $600.65. How’s that for beginner’s luck?

Day 2

Vegas is all about casino-hopping and fab shows and even more fab shopping. So, I packed accordingly. A trip to the Hoover dam was not part of the plan. I wasn’t really interested in going, but since you really can’t do a lot in Vegas during the daytime, I decided to go with my aunts and uncles. The Hoover dam is a historical and architectural masterpiece located in Boulder City, about 30 minutes from Vegas. Now, I’d really love to go into details about how great the dam is and how amazing its history is, but all i could think of the whole time are my feet(so the pics will have to suffice). Yup, my feet and its near-death experience at the Hoover dam. Lore has it that the construction of the dam cost about 400 lives, but it was never really proven. Guess what, I totally believe it.

       It was love at first sight for me and these black patent Stuart Weitzman peep-toe flats. I was practicing shoe-celibacy when I saw this baby at Nordstrom’s.  I knew he was totally out of my league (read:budget), but there was just something about him. I knew I just HAD to have him. But, just like most whirlwind romances, the magic faded fast. And there, on the Hoover dam, I fell completely out of love with him as he mercilessly killed my poor feet. Well Stuart, we had some good times, but I found some one else…these…yup!i bought these comfy bedroom slippers at the nearest pharmacy and wore them for the rest of the trip. I looked like a complete idiot, but between complete idiot and completely murdered feet, I’d choose complete idiot any day.

OK.The Celine Dion show was totally not my idea. I have great respect for the artist, but c’mon, when I think of Vegas shows, I think Moulin Rouge, Chippendale’s, Topless showgirls, not Celine Dion. But my aunt insisted that a trip to Vegas won’t be complete without catching the Celine Dion show, and that it was her last year..so…OK! Celine Dion it is!And oh my gosh, I hate to admit this, but, she was so right! I was completely spellbound. It wasn’t a Celine Dion concert, it was a Cirque du Soliel production with a Celine Dion soundtrack. It was so freakin amazing i had goosebumps the entire show. I tried to sneak in a couple of shots with my cameraphone, but the usherette caught me and i didn’t want to get thrown out. To add more cheese to this huge cheeseball of an experience, when Celine sang My Heart Will Go On for her finale, i actually cried. I know, kadiri to death. Toldya, I’m owning this blog.

Day 3
     Day 3 was pretty low key. We went to downtown Vegas to do some shopping in the afternoon. I didn’t want to spend the money I won so i decided to just buy an outfit for the night.I scored this cute little cowgirl dress and bought a matching cowgirl hat to boot. I seriously considered getting cowboy boots, but decided that that would be overkill. Add a long gold necklace and some heels and voila! instant Vegas party outfit. (hey, if those Vegas brides can prance around the casinos in their wedding gowns, i sure can in my cowgirl get-up). My aunt didn’t want to go out that night, so it was just me and my cousin. We had dinner at this classy steak house called Lawry’s, had daiquiris at Coyote Ugly and watched the show at the Pussycat dolls lounge. We tried to play at the mirage casino for a while, but after losing 50 bucks each, we decided to call it a night. Looks like my beginner’s luck has run out.

Day 4
Day 4 was ME time. I woke up really late and everybody else left already for the casinos. I woke up to a sunny day and a phone call from my bee, so I knew it was going to be a good day. I decided to just explore the hotel, the Bellagio, as in Ocean’s 11. I wanted to take advantage of the weather so I went for a swim at the hotel’s seriously gorgeous pools. One of the guests I met at the poolside bar suggested that I check out the hotel’s famous conservatory, which I did. He was so right, it was one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to. Check out these darling flowers.

                                           I felt like i was inside a perfume bottle. Not even the designer shops dotting the place can compare to this. Well, almost. Bottega Veneta kicked off Hermes from the top spot of my most coveted handbag list. Made from the softest, most luxurious leather ever, BV’s purses are pure LOVE. Sigh–a classic case of unrequited love. Someday, Bottega, i will be worthy of your love. In the evening, I met up with everyone else. We watched the water show at the Bellagio, the volcano at the Mirage and
the pussycat dolled-Pirates show at Treasure island. Dinner was at this fresh oyster bar at Harrah’s. Fresh, raw oysters+ Tabasco+lemons +cold beer=perfect nightcap. Then we all went back to the hotel to get some rest before the endless drive back home the next day.

Las Vegas is a flamboyant city, forever trying to impress and never failing. But as the cliche goes, what happens in Vegas stays in vegas. Sure, all those casinos and margaritas took my mind off home for awhile. But I will go back to California as the same homesick girl who will continue to find ways to get back home to the boy she loves. Only 600 dollars richer.

I have been surrounded with expectation all my life. And it has turned me into a pleaser.My parents have upped the ante a little bit higher with their child-raising and the result is an obsessive-compulsive pleaser–which means that I THRIVE to please and expectations feed the constant need to please. It’s a vicious cycle.

So, i was never the irritating little girl who throws a tantrum on the toy store because her mom won’t buy her the newest Polly Pocket. I was the annoying little girl who sings and dances on parties. I was never the angsty, black-eye-linered teen. I was the perky, annoying grade-hungry, scheming teacher’s pet.

I’m not saying this is an entirely bad thing. In fact, i probably wouldn’t have done half of what i have accomplished without these expectations. All I’m saying, is that it sometimes SUCK– having the constant need to plan everything.Hating surprises.Not being able to do anythig on a whim.Being boring.

But these past few weeks, I was seriously considering doing something on a whim. I was ready to drop everything and make the biggest mistake of my life. I WANTED to make the mistake. This is a good thing. But as it turned out, the mistake could not materialize, not because i didnt want it to, but because it just wasnt meant to materialize. And this broke my heart terribly. I felt trapped inside this other-pleasing but self-loathing monster.

So I am going to do the best remedy that i know, writing. My laptop is filled with journal entry after journal entry, none of which appears on my blog. Why? Because journalling is supposed to be therapeutic while blogging is freaking stressful for the OC-inflicted pleaser. She imagines the whole world scrutinizing her grammar, her sentence construction, her style, her content, oops! she used a cliche! So, she writes about things that she thinks others may actually enjoy reading, and it takes her two days to write, revise, check and recheck every single detail. The result is a very likeable blog entry that everybody can relate to and a very stressed out dissatisfied blogger.Well i am damned sick of it. I am finally succumbing to blogging about  whatever i damn want.  I will write about things that nobody else understands but reflects what i feel. I will be sickeningly, pathetically emo. I will be a complete cheesball. I will be a shallow airhead. oh yes i will write poems and no they will not rhyme. And i will commit the biggest mistake of all, the cliche. 

In the words of my wonderfully screwed friend, i.d.g a.f.

Feels good.feels very good.