Crazy, Crazy, Crazy Little Thing

I saw my little sister Chessie and friend Clarish post about the Thai movie titled "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" and what actually caught my attention was how Ches raved about Mario Maurer, who I've had a crush on a couple of years ago.

You just HAVE to see this.
I think its cute that the movie's tagline is "Based on a True Story", because its EVERYONE'S story, only it ends differently.

Can't blame me now, can you?

I've seen a lot of his photos and have expectantly drooled all over them, but I didn't really know what I was missing out on when I finally saw the movie last week. I started at 3:00 A.M. and ended at 5:00P.M., not regretting it the least bit. In fact, I sat in bed all giddy next to my snoring husband, pretending that I was in pigtails , all dreamy-eyed. It was such a cute moment in my life that I won't forget. It was like watching the taped episodes (in VHS) of G-Mik all over again, when Heart Evangelista and John Prats' scenes made my knees all wobbly (a.k.a. the usual case of spaghetti legs). Apart from partly dying at the scenes where Mario Maurer is required to look straight into the camera, I got to thinking about my own "Crazy Little Love", otherwise known as my first love.

Before I start mumbling random stories that end up all over the place, you have to see the trailer just so we're on the same page.

Note that what follows is written mostly for myself (ha!)

You think you've felt it before. Grade School, heck maybe even back in Preschool. No matter what age it hits you, it just does when it does. Borrowing this line from Mean Girls, its like being hit by a big yellow school bus. You end up falling into a coma, then your world is suddenly all rainbow-colored and unicorns lived next door, and you end up barfing butterflies. I thought I knew what First Love meant, but it wasn't until my second year in High School that I finally discovered what it meant, what it felt. Yes, I used to daydream about boys before, but this one hit me hard, and boy did he hit me good.

The story went almost just like Shone's and Nam's. It took awhile (not nine years, make it about two) before we ended up together. And boy oh boy was I in cloud 9 when we were together. Even through the tough times.

I was deeply in love with him. I was 15 and was so sure that he was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I could see him with our children, I remember him telling me that I would make a good Mom, out of nowhere. He was sweet, and everything I wanted. He treated me like a Princess, just the way every girl deserved to be. He was my Prince Charming, sweeping me off of my bony feet every now and then, the best is when I least expect.

There are several things I would never forget about our relationship. The way he would ask his driver to turn back to school, and he'd walk up to me and say, "I forgot to tell you that I love you." and I felt like dying right on the spot. The way he'd orchestrate his classmates to sing the song "My Girl" and change the words to "Abbie" whenever they walk past our classroom (we're from different classes but the same year). The way he'd surprise me at home with flowers and ice cream, a DVD for us to watch together, my favorite ones are his hugs and kisses...even when I'm sick. Especially when I'm sick.

To be honest, we had genuine, pure love for each other. Everyone noticed that, and they told us tirelessly.We were just...I don't know... I can't even describe it.

It was a kind of love that would exist beyond everything else. Life, death, everything in between. There is a special place in my heart for him. He's one of the few I look up to in so many ways. He's doing the things he said he'd do when he was 15. A lawyer and diplomat in the making. I know that he was born to do great things for the Philippines, and for the world all together (as cheesy as that sounds). I couldn't be any more proud of him. I couldn't be any more proud that he was once mine, and that a part of him will always be, no matter what.

That's how first love is. We didn't end up getting married, but that doesn't mean all those years I've loved him and moped and cried over him would go down the drain.

I'm meant to go through them for a reason. It was to appreciate the people that come in my life. It was to know what true love is. It was to know how it feels like to be heartbroken. It was to know what it feels like to stand up again. It was to know how I should've kept everything balanced.

It was to know that love exists in people. It was to know that I had it in me all along. It was to know myself.

I won't deny that whenever I see his Facebook page, or whenever we meet, a part of me still gets all warm and fuzzy. The love and respect that I have for him will always be there, and no one will ever take that away.

We have such an amazing story, and I can't wait to tell it to my children once they experience their first love, and first heartbreak.

Without it, I wouldn't know how to appreciate the love that my Husband and I have for each other. In marriage, it takes more than just butterflies and white knights and princesses in glass slippers for the relationship to last, or even exist between two people. Its a lot of hard work. Worthy of all the bittersweet-ness that comes your way.

Whether you end up with your first love (good for you), or not (there are reasons for that too, so...good for you), it feels awesome to have something like this to look back to, and to look forward to. No one is spared of this, and you should be thankful for that.

So yes, your first love never dies, and your true love takes a lot of work to keep. And trust me, its worth it.

So whether you're experiencing what its like to have your first love, or your true love...Hold on to your seats, sweeties. You're in for the treat of your life.


On Fire

Kisty (one of the few girls who's really inspired me) made my head explode when she asked to feature me on her awesome blog, "THIS GIRL ON FIRE".

Read the entire feature here.

I am honored to be included in her list of features. She's also done one on my friend Laureen, then there's Dae Lee, and an Inspiration Feature on Rumi Neely, who I adore!

When I first logged on her Tumblr, I seriously spent reading her posts for minutes, if not hours! And when she updates, you know you're in for a treat because they're all interesting reads.

Thank you so much for the awesome feature, Kisty! God Bless!



So here are few things I'd like to plug (shamelessly, obviously!) hee!

I wrote an article for (a site for Filipinos mostly in the MidEast), about my baby Proenza that was stolen about three weeks ago (days have gone slow). I'm seeing this as a window that God has opened for me, and like I should, I am just patiently waiting for where this will lead me to. Let's just say, it could be adventurous - and my writing skillz! Ooooh, my "writing skillz". Thank you Lord.

I've yet to add the laptop's serial number! GAH. But to read the rest of the article, click here.

Also, my Gogo Jay added my photo to this website. I added more (like 11), I won't deny that I'm pretty proud to be part of this so I sort of considered it as srz bznz.
Please like the page, and my photo here! Ha!



Because there isn't much going on and I'm still too lazy to shoot a video blog with my phone (I purchased iMovie just so I can edit a video there but it takes awesome skillz and I'm trying to acquire it!)

I've no idea how I can take photos like this and my room is just so....neat.


Yes, I don't blame you for sleeping with your Blackberry. But you can't blame me for sleeping with my iPhone either! I thank the Lord for this blessing.

I pray that He blesses me with the willpower to stop doing what I usually do (flake out of my "no shopping" rule for months) so I can save up and be patient enough to wait for what He has to say.

I think I'll be excessively blogging today, too. And no random posts! Typing them now, one after the other! Huzzah.


“Nana” is a cute word, ain’t it?

Its an alternative word for Nanny. The popularized Urban Legend of a question asked to Precious Lara Quigaman really broadened my perception of Nannies.

It is said that when asked the question,”What do you say to the people of the world who have typecasted filipinos as nannies?" she brilliantly answered, “I take no offense on being typecasted as a nanny. But i do take offense that the educated people of the world have somehow denegrated the true sense and meaning of what a nanny is... let me tell you what she is. She is someone who gives more than she takes. She is someone you trust to look after the very people most precious to you – your child, the elderly, yourself. She is the one who has made a living out of caring and loving other people. So to those who have typecasted us as nannies, thank you. It is a testament to the loving and caring culture of the Filipino people. And for that, I am forever proud and grateful of my roots and culture.

I was blown away.

Just recently, I was asked a favor to look after a close friend’s daughter, whose school was right next to where I worked. I obliged of course. My friend took me with her to school to introduce me to the teachers just so I’m permitted to pick up our Princess. Initially, when one of the parents saw me, asked my friend “Is she your new nanny?” I took a few seconds to try to weigh whether I would be offended, or whether I’d accept the fact that my race is known to work as nannies almost worldwide.

And then I began to assess myself: Was I dressed like a Nanny? Did I look like one? How is a Nanny supposed to look like anyway? How is a Nanny supposed to dress?

I was in my jeans and flats, my hair was braided and I was wearing a black flowy top with pleats. I wasn’t in my usual office outfit – but then again, facing the reality that most people look down on my race, no matter how presentable I was, I would still be seen as a Nanny.

Earlier today, two ladies, one of which I thought was one of the most kind-hearted women I’ve known (which is rare because as much as I hate to stereotype, people from their country almost always act like they poop gold and buy the oxygen they need to fill up their lungs, and God knows I am 95% correct most of the time) were speaking in their language, and I accidentally found out that she was talking about me and my bestfriend. The conversation went somewhat like this :

Lady 1 : What are these two girls doing here everyday?
Lady 2 : Well you know, when people of the higher class have no time to pick up their children, they send lower class people to take them.

My jaw dropped. Mostly because I thought she was really nice, which, as I said, was rare for women like her. I’m still in shock because I didn’t expect to be wrong about her.

If I were thought to be a Nanny, that was fine. But low class? In what sense? Was it the way I spoke? The way I carried myself? The way I ... dressed?

What made them classify us as low class people? We looked presentable. Is it because they were in designer clothes? I own designer clothes. Is it because they're from a country that was colonized by France? What does that have to do with anything?

These are facts. I told myself to remain as humble as I could and just shrug it off. One of them even said "Bye" and threw a sweet smile at us. How did she find it in herself to do that after what she said about us?

And then I remembered that a social status only lasts while we're on earth, none of that matters to God.

So what is it, then?

I work in a place where I’m surrounded by Nannies and House help of different races. Some of them act like a diva, some of them boss us around, some are rude, most of them are gossip-mongers, and most of them come from my country.

Its not what they do for a living that makes me judge my fellow kababayans – its their attitude, really. And this is what I hope we’d learn.

I’m not so sure what I’m trying to imply. This entry is all over the place but I sure do hope that you picked up several things from reading this.

This is how the world has embraced my race. I can proudly say that I am from a third-world country. I like being one of the few who can proudly hold my head high and say that I’m a Filipina.

So what if most of us are Nannies? Domestic Helpers? We’re doing what we can to provide for our families. Taking care of other people’s children and not being able to do the same for our own is harder than you think. Its heartbreaking.

I turned to my bestfriend and told her not to think about it. I knew where I stood. I may not be filthy rich but being classy meant more than having a stuffed wallet. And honestly they definitely went lower than what they classified us as.

My Mother certainly did not carry me in her womb for nine months to be treated this way by anyone else. My Father did not work hard to provide for me to be thought of this way by anyone else.

So it should go the same for you. As long as you know that you're doing no harm to anyone, NEVER LET OTHERS STEP ON YOU LIKE THIS. I'm not saying that you fight them back (physically, ha!) cos that's stooping down to their level. Instead, grace them with a smile, and let them think they've fooled you to believe that they're kind-hearted and innocent. LET THEM THINK YOU'RE STUPID! You'll know when you have to stand up for yourself.

And most of all, think about how we weren't worth it but always remember how God sacrificed His only son for us. If that isn't enough to make you realize your self-worth then I don't know what else to tell you.