I Am The Walrus

Two people broke up this week and I can vouch for at least one of them that she’s devastated. Crying has become an involuntary response, her eyes had been hurting so much from crying everyday that she had to buy eye cream to keep the swelling down.

There are good breakups and then there are bad breakups. Bad breakups usually involve criminal activities such as cheating, stealing, slander/libel or murder. Good breakups are just two people who have agreed that it’s not working out anymore, or that it doesn’t seem to be working out right now and perhaps it’s best to pull away from each other for a while.

But good breakups aren’t entirely good. You’re left with the feeling of hope, which can be either false or real hope. I can, again, vouch for one of the two individuals that she still feels hopeful but as the days go by, that tiny candle is slowly losing oxygen.

Right now, all the girl wants to do is turn off that part of her brain that triggers the memories.

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Valentine’s Day was make-up day for me. In the last two weeks, at least five people have told me the following:

1. “We have a presentation on (certain date) I hope you don’t mind, perhaps you should wear makeup” (from my boss hehe)

2. “You know, you’re pretty naman e, you just need to enhance your features with make-up”

3. “Ime-makeover kita! Hanap tayong makeup!”

4. “You look great in your Christmas office party photos (I was wearing makeup)”

5. “Make-up…. make-up…… dumdeedumdeedum….something about the weather…. make-up”

So I decided that I will finally have to invest in this damn thing.

I trudged over to Beauty Bar in Shangri-la to meet Fafi and Joy. When I came in, I pretended to fiddle with the lipstick and the brushes and the eyeshadow, but was stopped in my tracks when the saleslady came up to me to ask what I needed.

“Uh, guys, a little help?” I called to my girlfriends.

I felt like a room that needs cleaning. Fafi, Joy and saleslady looked at me like they wanted to rearrange my face. “She needs concealer that’s a lighter shade than her skin” said Fafi. “You don’t need eyeshadow, definitely eyeliner” piped Joy. “Get the blush, she needs blush” said the saleslady.

They sat me down — slouched as always — and proceeded to test the items on my face. Concealer to cover my darn dark spots. Loose powder. Blush. Eyeliner. Lipstick.

Here’s what I hate about wearing make-up — it’s obvious that I’m wearing make-up. I’ve been in an almost make-up-less atmosphere for the last nine, ten years in GMA and I’ve lived by the philosophy that I was hired, and I’m being paid, to think and not be pretty. Apparently, with the recent events at work, that is no longer true.

I looked at myself in the mirror after the saleslady (I remember her name — Micah!) was done attacking my face. Wasn’t so bad. I liked the eyeliner effect around my eyes, it made me look bitchy hehe. And the blush and the lipstick weren’t too pink nor too red, it was as if I got out of a really hot bath or sauna.

Here’s what I bought. I’m writing down the brands too because somebody out there might be using it and I am in dire need of tips— whether I should change my brand, or if it’s a good brand, or what brand is better, and so on.

My make-up kit (Ta-da!):

1. Natural Rice Oil-absorbing Rice Powder (Original Ancient Chinese Secret Formula…. oooh)

2. Prestige Blushing Duo — Blush & Highlighter

3. Prestige Light Response Self-Adjusting Undereye Concealer

4. Prestige Waterproof Automatic Eyeliner (Flanel Gray)

5. Prestige Lipstick - Mocha

6. Eyelash Curler, Blush Brush, Loose Powder brush

Prior to my purchase, I did some crazy research and came across brand names like Mac, Shu Uemura, Bobbi Brown, Bare Escentuals (can somebody enlighten me on mineral make-up?), Too Faced, Smashbox, among others. I’ve looked them up too and they are chi-ching! But I’d love to hear success/horror stories so I know what to use, help a girl out.

So…. weight loss, check. Hair treatments, check. Facials, check. Make-up, check. What’s next? Botox, perhaps? Harharhar….

Melancholy apparently brings out the writer in me. I’ve been sad the last few days. Proof is in the dark circles under my eyes that have gone from gray to blue to purple.

I’ve been crying a lot. But I don’t want to tell. I’m still hoping someday I can tell the world of that story because it’s a wonderful love story, but I still can’t.

It’s true that Valentine’s day serves no real purpose — love should be celebrated all year round. Boyfriends should give girlfriends flowers every damn day even if it would endanger the existence of the rose plant species. Husbands should take their wives out on dates and make them feel sexy and wanted every damn day even if it means upping the country’s population. But it’s an effective marketing ploy and everybody benefits from it — even the networks hardyharhar.

(I’m supposed to plug the movie When I Met U out of loyalty to GMA but Richard Gutierrez annoys me and I loathe KC Concepcion for deep-seated reasons)

I’m a girl. I want the flowers. I want the chocolates in a heart-shaped box. I want the free dinner (heck, who doesn’t?). I want a guy to tell me I’m beautiful and I want a guy to stare at me like he needs to. There, I said it. And come Valentine’s day, I want it even more.

But alas… tragically (naks), this is the nth Valentine’s day that I will be celebrating it alone.

Well, not really alone. When I came home from work last night, my son gave me a piece of paper with the words “Valentine Happy” scribbled inside a red heart and the words “Mama” and “Cojie” on either side of the heart. My son has lovely handwriting, did you know? It’s weird because neither me nor the sperm-donor a.k.a. his father had good handwriting.

Also, for about three years now, I’ve been celebrating Valentine’s Day with my girlfriends Fafilicious and Joy the Jowable. We just hang out somewhere, sip on coffees and make fun of ugly couples harharhar.

Sigh.

I sometimes think maybe there are just people built for certain functions. There’s a woman meant to be a wife. Meant to be a mother. Meant to be a sister. Meant to be a daughter. Meant to be a girlfriend. Meant to be a friend. There are those who can be all of these, but there are those who will only be one or two of these at a time. Or for the rest of their lives.

I think I’m an awesome friend. I’m good at daughtering. I’m average at mothering. Maybe I’m not really built to be a wife, thus the lack of relationships. I look at friends of mine who are married and they’re just a different species to me. For one thing, they’re not as….. crazy as I am hahaha.

Or perhaps there’s a skill I have yet to learn? At 32? Damn. (I just realized now that the statement above appears lewd and obscene but it definitely isn’t.)

I’m at a Taco Bell and there’s a couple in front of me enjoying a burrito. Clackityclackclackclackclack….. I’m out of endings. I’m stuffing my laptop back in my bag and heading home.

Feb 7, Saturday, 845am

We finally arrive at the chapel, Madamayan driving in her gown and white heels which she was trying to hide from the bride all day because she had strict instructions that we’re supposed to wear silver shoes.

I loved the wedding chapel. It seats only about 80 people, like a classroom, only bigger. When the choir started singing, I looked at the bride and groom and they were singing along, as enthusiastic as the rest of the choir. Oh yeah, that’s how they met. They have been singing for the same church choir for the last six or seven years.

It was the most uncomfortable mass of my life. My face packed with makeup, I can’t slouch in my gown, I had to carry a stupid bouquet of flowers, and I had a camera I can’t use because I can’t run around because of my stupid gown. So if anyone out there is getting married and you plan to give me a role, can you sign me up somewhere else? Like a Bible reading? Or a dance number?

So the groom, Joyousnoel, was ecstatic about the kiss at the end of the ceremony because Singerica is such a prude. We’ve been going out with them for years and years and I’ve never seen them kiss, not even a peck on the cheek. Joyousnoel is a perfect gentleman, but I know deep down he is (or wants to be) an exciting luvah. So when they got to the kiss in the end, and Joyousnoel kissed his new wife, he relished it and enjoyed it but was gentle about it. It was perfect.

I love Singerica, but she has her eccentricities. I have to admit, sometimes she’s hard to get along. But she’s funny as hell and she laughs at my craziness, so we hang out. And I love that Joyousnoel just accepted her eccentricities, her tantrums, her prudence! And the pride in Joyousnoel’s face when he hugged his wife for the first time — it was like all the trials they went through just fluttered away.

Me and Glutina start crying. Eye make-up! Eye make-up!, I joked. I’m crying because Singerica is crying and Joyousnoel is crying. Happy for them, sure. But I know you know what I’m thinking.

1030am

Can we just get to the buffet now? Stupid tradition, we have to catch the bouquet. Or pretend to catch the bouquet. Instead we all kept dodging it.

I conspired with Madamayan and pretended to be in deep conversation with her as the whole bouquet toss was happening. “Is that a bird?” I pointed to the sky. Madamayan laughed. Bride tosses the bouquet and it falls on a bush. Everybody laughs. She tosses it again and the event host catches it. Good for her.

The irony, though. I know each and everyone of those bridesmaids — all four of us. All four of us are dying to get married. Just itching for a wedding. Excited about falling in love and being in love and powering through a relationship just to walk down that aisle. But catching the bouquet kind of pressures all of us into a deadline which we will, most probably, not meet.

Bouquets shouldn’t be tossed anymore, just awarded. With a certificate signed by God saying “You will get married in x number of months”. Now that’s a bouquet I’d fight for.

1130am

Intimate chapel, intimate reception. We went back to the hotel for the grub, which was good. Two points for Legend Villas. The buffet was nice — salad, chicken croquettes, calamares, grilled fish with lemon sauce, roasted chicken (didn’t eat that), roast beef (hate beef) and for dessert, french pastries (eclairs! yum!).

There were only about 10 tables and by now everybody knew everybody else, having spent the last 3 hours together. Big weddings truly are for people who want to announce to everyone in their social circle that “Hey, somebody wants to spend the rest of their life with me. Check it out!”. Small weddings are really for celebrating with people you love.  

The event was hosted by my friend GenQ — we’ll call her that so it’s nice and funky, like Rihanna or Beyonce. GenQ came in a nice blue dress that was partially backless that the conservative bride had disapproved earlier. So that’s Madamayan’s white heels and GenQ’s backless dress — we love Singerica but we don’t do what she says hehehe.

Along with GenQ is her husband HaroldQ who is, in my book, a professional photographer because it’s only in his camera that I look prettier than I’m supposed to be. HaroldQ tells me he thinks I would look good on a photoshoot lying down in bed, my arm over my head or something like that. Right. Who would buy that magazine?

Singerica and Joyousnoel sang Bakit Ba Ganyan. Galing ng blending! harharhar. I’m surrounded by couples like this everyday, seemingly different people, whose differences often turn to arguments, but there’s always one thing that brings them together. Glutina and her boyfriend Grumpaul (he’s been grumpy lately, but I love him) love videoke like no one else I know. They dance and sing with arms flailing, even if they’re out of tune. When I see them singing videoke, I understand what brought them together.

Joyousnoel and Singerica are more serious type of singers — kind of like Isay Alvarez and Robert Sena. And as they sing, you know these two people are entering into this wedding not just voluntarily but enthusiastically. They really want to spend their lives together.

When the parents are called in to make their speech, I reach for my hanky again. I am crying way too much on this wedding. But this one, I can explain. I remember my mom saying she dreams of putting on a nice barong gown and walking me down the aisle with my dad, offering me to the man I’m going to marry. Once in a while, she tells me she still believes in that dream. Ah, screw it. I don’t know anymore.

1pm

Yes! Take me to my hotel room! Get me out of this gown! When the ceremony was over, we kissed the bride and groom goodbye and hurried our way back to our rooms. Give me tsinelas or give me death!

I used up a small pack of cotton to take out the thick makeup on my face and when I looked in the mirror, I recognized myself again. Hey there, dark circles. I missed ya.

HaroldQ brought out his laptop and showed us the pictures he got from the wedding and we all laughed our asses off. The doorbell rang and it’s the bride and groom, back in their house clothes, like nothing happened. As the slideshow of photos started, we watched a series of solos of the bride, to which Joyousnoel quietly remarked “Ang ganda ni Rica, ano?”.

We checked out at around 3pm. Glutina’s meeting up with Grumpaul (grumpy but still has time for his girlfriend), Chestelle went off to buy bread for her mom, and I got a text from my own mom, saying my son misses me and wants a Pokemon happy meal.

Everybody went home happy.

Feb 6, Friday 11:26 pm

I’m at The Legend hotel with my friends Glutina and Chestelle. They’re soundly sleeping since we have to wake up at an ungodly hour so we can get ready for our friend, Singerica’s wedding tomorrow.

It’s only a matter of hours before she will be officially changing her last name from Tiu to Rafael. I don’t know about the rest of married life, but having to change the way you write your name, as it is, is a big deal for me.

I am a bridesmaid. At 32. Like being a flowergirl at seventeen. I have no idea what a bridesmaid does. At around 1030pm, Singerica, the bride, came in our room to tell us what to do — misalettes, souvenirs, guestbook. To which I quipped “Ay, akala ko maglalakad lang hahaha“.

I’m supposed to walk down the aisle alongside the vet host of Born To Be Wild but apparently he had to go shoot an episode and won’t be able to make it. Dang. Now I have to take the arm of some guy named Joema.

January was kind of a sucky month but February is looking a lot peachier. And not just for me, for a lot of people in my circle.The boyfriend of one of my friends will be coming home this month, just days before Valentine’s day, after having spent months in Congo. My cousin might might might get a good paying job in Indonesia. And now one of my closest friends is getting married to a good man who has also become our friend over the last five years.

Things are looking up for me too, but I still can’t tell you.

Blog again in a few hours.

Feb 7, Saturday, 4:48 AM

Didn’t sleep. Couldn’t sleep. Too worried about catching the bouquet and having one of the groomsmen put a garter up my thigh. Not because I’m a prude, which I most certainly am not hahaha, but because the groom said they were “mostly unattractive”.

Must have coffee. Not used to being awake this early on a Saturday without some sort of 2-hour trip involved.

Gay make-up artist to arrive in an hour. Will update later.

6am

Breakfast. Thank God for buffets. I had cold cuts and cheeses and whole wheat bread and butter and two cups of coffee. Glutina, whose feeding habits I can never understand, ate pansit and some cold cuts and bread and puto pao and finished with some papaya and watermelon. She was going to go back for oatmeal but I expressed my disgust. Eating should have a process of some kind.

Breakfast buffet at Legend is excellent. Can’t say much about everything else, but the buffet is wonderful.

Our friend Madamayan who was supposed to spend the night with us came for breakfast already glammed up. She had puto and papaya. What is wrong with these people.

630am

Hairdresser Nixon arrives with his flamingly gay posse toting makeup kits and I’m immediately intrigued. The last few weeks, certain individuals — important individuals — have encouraged (yes, not forced) me to explore the possibilities of enhancing my features via makeup. I am seriously considering it, I promise. I’m thoroughly researching it the way I studied weight loss properly before I executed it.

As expected, makeup artist covered the dark circles under my eyes which I’ve had since I was seven, I think hehehe. Concealer galore!

Then. Blue eyeshadow. Ohhhkkkeiii…

Then. Pink lipstick. I rolled my eyes.

Two blowdryers were at full blast as the haridressers started their work on our friend who had also arrived. At which, the power went out. Yes. We short-circuited the place. Twice. Minus points for Legend.

Glutina with her glutathione-enriched-like complexion was a breeze to put make up on. Chestelle’s kinky hair was ironed straight. I had pink lipstick. Life’s not fair.

(Wedding ceremony when I wake up)

I don’t usually blog in the middle of the week but I just had to. When I logged on to Friendster, I saw my friend Sheryll’s shoutout read “Happiness is worth fighting for”.

This girl flew to the US to meet her online boyfriend, a white guy from Arizona about ten years her senior, and now she’s been with him since November and is probably getting married (if not had gotten married).

I both admire her and am scared for her but she seems genuinely happy.

I’m too much of a coward, I guess.