There is something about it that fills me with so much hope. In this world where you can barely get a decent date, it seems like a miracle to me that someone could actually find a partner to share their life with. And in a way, Daim and Tom’s marriage is nothing short of a miracle.
I’ve already talked about how happy I am that we have become so enlightened as a society such that two men getting married is now almost as commonplace as a wedding between a man and a woman. And I also think its fantastic that through sheer chance, Daim and Tom’s wedding happened to fall on Pride Weekend in the UK. Everytime I see them as a couple, I always think #lovewins. I’m sure it could not have been easy for them to get to this point, and while their story is not mine to tell, I know that they’ve made a lot of compromises along the way to become the partners that they are now. I have no words to describe how happy I am for them.
There were two things that struck me about this wedding. Two things other than the fact that everything was so gorgeous and meticulously planned. First was how accepting everyone was of the fact that this was an occasion of two men getting married. No one remarked upon it, it wasn’t an issue throughout the day, and we’re talking about two cultures (British and Filipino) who are quite conservative and strict about sexuality. But today, it wasn’t about any political correctness or equality, it was simply that everyone was there because they loved them both and they would love whoever it was that either decided to marry.
The second thing was how much the two cultures were equally represented and celebrated. I’ve always thought there was a great divide between the two cultures that no amount of love could ever span and the most you can hope for in an interracial marriage was that one partner would tolerate the other. But today, not only were those two cultures accepted, they were also celebrated. I could not stop a tear from falling when Tom was given the traditional Filipino blessing by Damier’s mum. Or when the person officiating the ceremony told everyone to stand up to greet the bride and groom because this was a Filipino culture. There was a wedding breakfast which is traditionally British (and confusing to me because this was at 4 in the afternoon) and a hog roast during the ball which is the closest thing to the traditional Filipino lechon that you can get in England.
Their families all tried to get on and interact. The naturally reticent and shy Filipinos were welcomed by the more sociable British. The children were fast friends and playing together by the end of the weekend. They both had a mixture of British and Filipino friends. It was absolutely beautiful. And I think this really parallels the relationship between these two men. You could not find two people who are more different, but rather than loving each other despite their differences, they love each other becaue of it. Damier’s certainly never voluntarily set foot in a musueum before Tom. And before Damier, I’m sure Tom had rice with his meals about once a month.
At the end of the day, its not about all the ways in which they are different, but about how they grow together to merge those differences and achieve the kind of partnership that will last. I know this wedding is visually and aesthetically stunning, but I think it would still have been beautiful even if it were in a barn full of hay and horse manure simply because of the joy and love that filled the occasion.
I love coming to weddings because they fill me with hope. There are things that will last, that will stand the end of time. There is still room for the kind of love that makes you a better person because of it. The kind of love that breaks barriers of race and gender, this is the kind celebrated here today because as Maya Angelou said:
Love recognises no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to its destination full of hope.
There is so much happiness going around the room today that I have not stopped crying since the wedding started. I am so so happy for these two men. They deserve every happiness and every good thing that’s coming their way. Congratulations Tom and Daim!
What is this fascination we have with infidelity? We gossip about it over morning coffee, talk about this person’s marital woes over a glass of wine after work and discuss the nuances of a failing relationship over supper. For those of us who’ve never experienced being cheated on, we think we have the right to criticise or pass judgment. Those who are seemingly secure in the strength of their own relationships even condescend to give advice about how to keep your partner happy. Others have the audacity to say ‘leave him’ as if its as simple as returning an unwanted Christmas present.
Shortly before I left the Philippines to come to the UK, infidelity seemed to be the most popular subject in my country’s entertainment industry. Movies with titles like ‘The Mistress‘, ‘The Other Woman’, ‘No Other Woman’ and television series like ‘The Legal Wife’ were all the rage back then. The public lapped it up; it was the topic of many a Facebook posts and internet memes, lines were quoted and the inevitable confrontation – and ensuing hair pulling and inconsolable crying – drew a million viewers, myself among them. I remember a couple of year ago, a movie called ‘Etiquette for Mistresses’ came out and the hue and cry along the 7,107 island of the Philippines could be heard all the way to Europe. Critics claimed that it glorified cheating; its a movie that suggests to idealistic little girls that being a mistress is glamorous and fun, something to be considered as a lifestyle choice, like choosing to be a vegetarian.
SERIOUSLY. SERIOUSLY?!
Intelligent women degrading themselves into this role. And for what? The illusion of love. Love is not love if you can’t shout it out from the rooftops. What is the point of love if you can’t be there for another person because you’ve even relegated to some sordid background role where you can only care for the person in secret? I can hardly claim to be an expert on relationships. And I always think it doesn’t do to air your lofty views because you never really know how you’re going to respond to temptation until it actually comes your way, and you don’t want to be known as a hypocrite after. But I’d like to think that if I were ever in a situation where I was seriously tempted, I would find the self-respect to say no. Because I respect myself and my fellow woman far too much to ever be a mistress.
Zenia: The Robber Bride AKA The Anti-Mistress
The Robber Bride is the last of the trio of Margaret Atwood books that I’m reading and reviewing. Out of the lot, I found this the hardest to read, digest and make sense of.
Ros, Charis and Tony all had one thing in common: at one point in their lives they’ve been brought to the lowest of lows because of Zenia, this fascinating creature whose primary talent was to draw men into her company; to tempt and seduce them until they succumb to her charms. She wants what she can’t have. actually no, that’s not accurate. There is nothing that she can’t have. It would be more apt to say that she wants what she doesn’t have and when she inevitably gets it, she despises it. So she seduces these men, sucks their souls dry and then leaves them when she tires of them. And they’re left in a daze, wondering what happened, a broken shell, a pale shadow of the men they used to be.
When I read a book, I feel so much sympathy for the main characters that sometimes their pain becomes my pain. I knew going in that this book would be about cheating, so I was already in tenterhooks, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the inevitable infidelity committed by these women’s husbands/partners. And when it does, I do feel so sorry for them.But I have to admit I also feel enraged. Enraged that they would tolerate it; that they would condemn the deed and the other woman but forgive their husbands. I think Zenia is right. Towards the end of the book, she tells Ros that she should put more responsibility on her husband’s shoulders because at the end of the day, its not about what Ros or Zenia did or didn’t do: her husband did exactly what HE wanted to do. Its so easy to blame the other woman, but actually as cliche as it is, it DOES take two to tango.
I think Tony really captured the essence of what Ms. Atwood wants us to feel when we read this book, especially for us women (I reckon men would be a bit frightened of this one). As much as you want to hate Zenia (and you do, she’s a conniving little viper), you also want to cheer her on for having the balls to take on the men of this world and beat them at their own game. She calls no man her master, she gets what she wants from them and they can’t hurt her. To a wife, someone who is always burdened by the weight of expectations that come with that role, that must seem exhilarating.
It also seems incredibly lonely.
Lately, I’ve been wrestling with the feeling that I’m missing out on something by continuing to pursue my independence and not seriously thinking about settling down with someone. It might be nice to come home to someone and to have a partner in all my endeavours. But do I really know what that means or am I still looking through rose-coloured glasses? Am I really ready for that level of commitment to another person? I’d like to think so. But I’m afraid that I’m probably a little like Zenia myself, going after what I want (though I’ve yet to be a home wrecker lol) and to hell with the people who judge my choices.
Goodbye Ms. Atwood
Its been a real eye-opener, reading all these books about women and feminism. I think Margaret Atwood really is one of the premier author of women’s literature, and there’s a lot we can learn from her books. They tend to be long and sometimes overly descriptive; I’m sure I could have done without all the descriptions of foliage, scenery or the really wonky spiritual metaphors that just went over my head. She also has this habit of digressing and writing a whole paragraph about something that I thought did not contribute to the story at all. But then, maybe the whole paragraph was a metaphor for something the character was going through and I’m too shallow to see it. I don’t know.
But when you get to the heart of the story, when she starts weaving the tales of these women, its transcendental. This isn’t light summer reading; she’s one of those authors whose books you read, put down and digest, maybe read something fluffy in between chapters, and then read again. You won’t finish it in one sitting and neither should you, because you will need time to understand the implications. But give it a chance, do not DNF her books. Forgive the metaphors. Its worth it.
Here we are, one week before you finally marry the love of your life. 5 years ago when we first met, you seemed so sure that you would never get to this stage. You never thought you’d find the person that you’d plan a future with, that you’d share the rest of your life with. I’m so happy that this is one of those times when I can prove you wrong, because you have found HIM.
I remember when same-sex marriage was approved in the States last year; I immediately thought of you, although its been legal in the UK for a while. I always say that I can’t imagine a world where you don’t get to be your fabulous self. I can’t imagine a world where someone gets to decide who you can or can’t have feelings for. I can’t imagine that someone would think you’re somehow less of a man just because you happen to be in love with another man. They don’t know your courage, your generosity, everything that you’ve sacrificed, how hard you’ve worked to provide for your family. You are more than a man than most of the men I know. You just also happen to be good at shopping and putting on make-up for me. :p
You’ve always been my number one fan, and you know I’ve always been yours. Without you, I wouldn’t be the confident and empowered person that I am. You’ve always encouraged me to avoid setting limits for myself when it comes to my physical attributes, because that’s always been one of my biggest insecurities. But you’ve taught me to break through those barriers. In return, I am telling you now that I will fight to the death to make sure no one ever sets barriers for you. You can do anything daim, and we’ll be there to cheer you on all the way. I cannot wait for you to reach this milestone in your life, I just know that you are going to make the best husband. Tom is a lucky guy and he knows it. 🙂
I’m not going to get too sappy; I’ll save that for the wedding. I just didn’t want to end the night and not say how happy I am for you, and how much I think you deserve every happiness that comes your way. Happy Hen-Tag buang! I hope you enjoyed your Butler in The Buff. I’ll see you at the wedding. Xx
Today, I actually woke up hours ahead of my alarm and decided I wanted to watch an old movie before I have to haul my ass to work. Something comforting, something that will take me back to my childhood and to remember that feeling of innocence and wonder, that feeling that the world is full of promises and you have your whole life ahead of you. (Jeez, sometimes I think and talk like I’m approaching middle age! This turning 30 thing is really getting to me. Moving. On.)
So I decided to watch Now and Then. Back then, it was my go-to movie when I needed a boost. In those days before Netflix, one actually had to go to an honest-to-goodness video store to rent a movie. They even had them on those plastic case thingies with the movie poster on the front and the synopsis at the back. The movies were in VHS format and back then that was THE height of technology.
For most of the year, I went to school in the city. I was raised by my aunts and uncles because my parents had to stay in the country most of the time to run our business. They alternated months to come visit myself and my siblings. It was a rare privilege to have them both over and I can count on both hands the number of times they’ve done so when I was growing up, weddings and graduation ceremonies mostly. Not even for our birthdays – mum usually came to that one.
It sounds sadder than it was but it actually never bothered me that much, at least when I was younger. Do I wish I had more time with them? Sure. But I guess that sense of obligation and responsibility was instilled in me early on, and I always knew at the back of my head that without their sacrifice I wouldn’t have all the privileges I was enjoying: going to a good school, having everything I needed and most of what I wanted. I wouldn’t have had the opportunities that I had if it weren’t for that arrangement.
Together in London, our first family trip. 🙂So even as my brother and sister bawled their eyes out every time one of them had to leave, I tried to keep a stiff upper lip and put on a strong front. I did all of my crying in the toilet after, in private.
The point of all that backstory is to illustrate just how glorious and how hotly-anticipated summer vacations were to me between the ages of 10 to 15. Mostly because it was the only time my entire family could be together in one setting for an extended period of time. Back then, I was young enough to be excited over staying in the country. I used to like the fact that I’d be staying in a small town where everyone knew everyone else’s business, where simple pleasures were appreciated because there was nothing else to do, where the ocean was literally on our backyard (we had a seawall built to keep it away). Maybe because we were apart for most of the year, my parents – mum especially – tried to spoil us for those two months. We get to request what we wanted for lunch and dinner so she could cook each of our favourite dishes. We mostly get to do what we want – my brother could go hours and hours on the Playstation and no one would bat an eyelash.
Of course there were drawbacks. The place was a province and back then there were no phone lines built in town, let alone cellular services. The Internet was some futuristic invention and nobody could even dare imagine that someday we’ll have something like 4G. In a way that was a good thing, people actually had real face to face conversations instead of status updates on Facebook. Electricity was a fickle thing, and because it was a coastal town we were so frequently visited by typhoons even during the summer. My family had a generator at the back of the house so that we could still have some light during those extended days of rain and blackouts. We couldn’t keep it running for 24 hours though, so there was nothing we could do about the nights.
So it wasn’t perfect, but we were all together. And watching films is one my family’s favourite things to do so my dad would encourage us to go to the video store and rent the movies that we liked and we’d take turns picking a movie to watch. He always looked so dismayed when I came back week after week with Now and Then in hand. He could not understand why I was so fixated on the story of four girls growing up in a small town in Indiana.
Its set a time when they were no longer children but they’re not quite teenagers either. Everything is new, every experience is delicious. You start keeping secrets from your friends, especially when it comes to boys, because no one wants to be the first to admit that the enemy has suddenly become incredibly attractive. Its a story about enduring friendships and how important it is to have something constant to cling to when everything just seems to be changing.
All of my little adolescent crushes and youthful romances happened during that summer. I have to say, most of the time I was caught up in my imagination of what could be; nothing really happened between me and the guys I liked except for a few flirty conversations, a dozen secret smiles and a thousand longing looks. Everyone was scared of my dad, as he was one of the more well-known businessmen in town and had a reputation for being – well, not as friendly. Stand-offish. Strictly speaking, I wasn’t really allowed to interact with the locals. But my cousin was, and we used to ride around in a ladies’ scooter, cruising through the spots in town where the guys we liked were gathered just to see and be seen. I used to get so giddy during those moments and I’d come home with windswept hair, a slightly guilty demeanour and a secret happy smile.
I started writing a diary and pouring out all my teenage emotions and sweet little encounters. My God, i could fill pages and pages back then. I was blogging before I even knew what blogging was. I must have at least 10 volumes starting from the age of 9. I still re-read them sometimes, they give me a laugh. Its nice to remember that there was ever a time where my most pressing problem was how to catch a glimpse of the cute guy next door.
Watching Now and Then brings back the memories of all those summers, before I was old enough for cynicism to set in, before I became a bit selfish and unappreciative of the simple pleasures of life in a small town. Before i grew up and moved on to wanting more complex things. Its nice to remind ourselves once in a while that we don’t have to make life so complicated, that the secret to happiness probably lies in keeping things simple. Let’s all take a trip down memory lane with Christina Ricci and the rest of the girls.
P.S. i was gutted to hear that the actress who played the young Chrissy died of drug overdose. Rest in peace. 😢
I have these moments where I feel a little bit homesick for all things Filipino. During lunch today one of my colleagues brought food that just reminded me of home; someone else was asking me about the best places to visit in Cebu, where I’m from. Yesterday, my boss showed me 2 one-hundred peso bills that someone from Victoria gave her when she was trying to collect money for charity (huh???!!!). I keep getting these little reminders of home, and isn’t it funny how I still think of the Philippines as home even though I spend a majority of my time in the UK? For all intents and purposes, London is my home now and I love it. However, I am a Filipino first, and I know sometimes I forget. I think and speak in English most of the time; I write my Facebook statuses and blogs in English; I read English books, I listen to English music. Its so easy for me to forget where I come from, to shed those aspects of myself that make me Filipino.
To be honest, I think I made that conscious decision 5 years ago when I arrived in London. I decided that I would immerse myself in the culture of this country because I want to experience life here to the fullest. I don’t want to just be over here working 12-hour shifts to make enough money to send over to the Philippines. No, I decided that I would take advantage of this opportunity and become, well, British. I tried to embrace every aspect of its culture, though I’ve yet to see the point of constantly drinking tea or this love of football (basketball, baby!).
It also didn’t help that my first encounter with Filipinos working overseas was with my old landlady, who is a walking, talking model of every negative stereotype Filipinos have ever been accused of: ambitious, money-grubbing, slave to trends and designer brands, possessing a “crabs in a box” mentality, love of “tsismis” (gossip) especially about fellow Filipinos, having nothing to say about art or culture…the list goes on. I have to admit that when I first got here, I sought to be the opposite of all that, to show everyone I meet in this country that there are Filipinos who are cultured and educated and can hold their own in a conversation. There are Filipinos who are willing to try new things, to travel and to explore. There are Filipinos who don’t see every man as a potential sponsor for a fiancee visa (I was once asked out on a date where the first question the guy asked me was ‘so what visa are you on?’. Like hello, I don’t need you and your British passport. I can work my way to my own, thanks).
I didn’t realise until this moment just how separated I’ve become from everything that makes me Filipino. I feel like I’ve lost my love for my home country, and though I will be the first to rant that there is so much about the Philippines that I detest, there is also so much to love and be proud of. I guess today’s theme is a reminder for me to be a little more in touch with my roots, to never forget where I came from because its going to make an impact on where I’m going. And if there’s one aspect where I remain proudly Filipino, its my love for classic original pilipino music (opm). So I thought I’d share some of my favourite tunes in the hopes that after this post, I will be just a little bit more proud of being Filipino.
Halaga – Parokya Ni Edgar
“Sa libu-libong pagkakataon na tayoy nag-kasama, iilang ulit palang kitang makitang masaya. Naiinis akong isipin na ginaganyan ka nya, siguro ay hindi niya lang alam ang iyong tunay na halaga.”
This guy’s basically singing to a girl he’s in love with who’s got a boyfriend that doesn’t treat her right. Loosely translated, the lyrics are saying he’s never seen her happy with the guy and he hates the thought of him taking her for granted and not seeing her true worth. Literally, Halaga in Filipino means worth or value
Narda – Kamikazee
“Narda” is the alter ego of the Philippines’ version of Wonder Woman, called Darna.
When she’s in her human disguise, she’s called “Narda”. She swallows some kind of stone and shouts “Darna” if she wants to transform. Its a little bit silly, I know. But its a huge part of the Filipino culture. I can’t think of any Filipino over the age of 25 who doesn’t know who Darna is, or who hasn’t made a Darna joke. Anyway, she fights bad guys, she’s super fast and super strong and she flies. This group, Kamikazee, decided to write a song about how hopeless it is to fall in love with someone like that who is so obviously (and literally) out of their reach.
“Awit na nananawagan (a song that’s calling out)
Baka skating napakikinggan (hoping maybe she’ll hear it)
Pag ibig na palaisipan (a love he can’t make heads or tails of)
Sa kanta na lang idaraan…(so he’ll just write a song about it instead)
Nag-aabang sa langit (Looking at the heavens)
Sa mga ulap sumisilip..(peeking through the clouds)
Sa likod ng mga tala..(or behind the stars)
Kahit sulyap lang Darna.” ( for even just one glimpse of Darna)
Ugh, the whole song is such a great metaphor for the hopelessness of unrequited love. I love it.
Harana – Parokya Ni Edgar
Harana in Filipino literally means Serenade. Its an old-fashioned practice during the “courtship” stage for a guy to gather a group of his friends so that he can serenade the girl he likes (usually at night and usually with the girls’ father giving him the death stare. Honestly, how can the poor guy be expected to carry a tune?!).
photo taken from https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/551972498049666343/
Anyway, I guess in this era of Tinder and Match.com this practice is terribly OUT of fashion, and I for one think that’s a shame. I mean, I can see where this would be incredibly embarrassing, but part of me thinks its also incredibly romantic.
Parokya Ni Edgar is one of my favourite OPM bands, and their songs will probably feature in any OPM list I make. But Harana holds a special place in my heart because my high school crush sang it once and allowed me the illusion that he was singing it just for me (spoiler alert: he wasn’t!)
Pare Ko – Eraserheads
“Pare” (pa-reh) means, like, bro or brother or something. As this, and the next song, will illustrate, The Eraserheads are amazing storytellers and they really have a gift for writing songs in a clever way. In this song, the singer is telling his romantic woes to his “pare” and asking him to have patience and understanding because he knows he knows he’s bound to say things that are sappy and corny. So the singer tells his “pare” about a college girl he’s in love with who led him on and has now broken his heart.
Part of the reason why I love this song is because girls think they have a claim on the whole pouring-their-hearts-out-to-their-friends thing but actually, guys talk about their problems too. They just do it in a different way and usually with a lot more alcohol and swearing involved. This song is just such an accurate representation of the kind of conversation a guy would have with his friend, where he’s desperate for advice but trying so hard to still appear cool and collected. Although most of the song talks about the girl, because of the way the E-heads have written it, it actually becomes a celebration of male friendships instead.
Also? The song lyrics contain actual swearing! :p
“O, diyos ko, ano ba naman ito? (Oh my God, what is this?)
Di ba, ‘tang ina, (Son of a bitch)
Nagmukha akong tanga, (I looked like a fool)
Pinaasa niya lang aso, (She only led me on)
Lecheng pag-ibig toh…” (Damn this love)
Ang Huling El Bimbo – Eraserheads
Ah, now this is an epic song. Its really such a shame that I can’t translate the lyrics because it tells a story that is so quintessentially Filipino. To sum up, this boy once had after-school dance classes with this girl during which she would teach him the El Bimbo; in the process she also taught him about the power of true love. He never had the courage to tell her how he felt though, so they moved on and years pass. The girl becomes some kind of mistress and has a baby out of wedlock. Forced by desperation to take some kind of menial job washing plates or something, she was run over by a car walking home one night. So the guy laments that he can only hold her and dance with her in his dreams now. I’m probably not doing such a good job of translating this song, and maybe you have to be Filipino to understand the impact of this song. But the Eraserheads were probably like the Coldplay of OPM. They made listening to OPM cool.
To me, this song will always be associated with the guys in my class playing guitar one day during free period and everyone just spontaneously joined in because we all knew the words. This was probably a couple of months before high school graduation, and we all knew that we would never be together in quite the same way ever again. An era was ending and we didn’t know what the future held in store for us. Would we all make it? Would we all reach our dreams? In that moment, singing El Bimbo, we forgot about our worries for the future and just got lost in our love for music, for this song.
For the next two weeks, my flatmate (who also happens to be my sister) will be getting lost in the streets of continental Europe, following a path that I myself traversed 3 years ago. I’m really proud of her courage to explore new cities and have unforgettable experiences. However, I can’t deny that the flat is really lonely without her. And its not just because I miss having someone to share the chores and responsibilities with, although I wouldn’t mind not having to prepare dinner after a long day at work. :p
My sister and me! 🙂
Truth be told, I knew I would hate the thought of being by myself for the next fortnight. As Arlene, my sister, was preparing for her Eurotrip, I was already thinking of activities to do and people to do it with, especially since London has been having the warmest weather ever recorded in history this past week (we were hotter than Italy at one point!).
I’ve always been the type who can be comfortable in any kind of company. Put me in a room of strangers and I’ll probably make friends in about an hour. My friend once told me that I seem to have a knack for making small talk and making people feel comfortable about telling me things. I’ve honestly never really thought about it; it just comes naturally to me because I genuinely enjoy being around and getting to know people. But how meaningful are the acquaintances I make is another question.
As I reach the ripe old age of 30, I have come to realise that friends are not stickers that you collect and put in an album, to be looked at and admired but never really put to use. I think friends are more like expensive shoes. You’re on your feet all day so you don’t want to buy cheap shoes, you want to buy one that’s of good quality, that’s comfortable, and that you can wear in any weather. These shoes will see you through the good times and the bad; they will be there for weddings, birthdays and funerals. You don’t need a lot, you just need to buy your money’s worth and pick ones that will last.
At 29, I probably have less friends I can ring if I want to do something crazy like party all night. However, I do have a select few that I can consistently count on to have random phone conversations about nothing at all, or to prop me up when I’m feeling down, or support me when I have stupid ideas, or wait with me at the A and E because I’m having an allergic reaction and I’m afraid I might go into anaphylaxis shock (yes this has happened).
Most importantly, I’m learning that sometimes we need a little bit of alone time so that we can learn how to be on our own but not lonely.Who are you when you’re not with others? Can you live with the you that you’re discovering when you’re by yourself at the end of the day? These are thoughts that have been running through my mind whilst I sit in an apartment that is really too big for one person to live in (I almost, ALMOST wish I was back in a hospital accommodation).
Anyway, I just wanted to put my thoughts onto paper so that I can look back at this sporadically over the next two weeks. I am not going to have a sudden epiphany (I do have other things to do than self-reflection), but I think that if I find that I feel complete even in my own company, I’ll be more ready to give relationships a shot and less scared of putting myself out there or letting others in, and these two solitary weeks would have been all worth it.
London weather often lends itself to emotional reflection. So I decided to make this playlist on Spotify as a soundtrack to when I just want to emote. Let me just say that I have not had reason to be heartbroken in a while, but that’s probably because I’ve decided to have a heart break and just stop trying for a while. I have been able to relate to most if not all of these songs at one point or the other in my life, but I’ve mostly gotten over it.
So here’s my playlist, aptly titled ‘Hurt’ with a sad face emoji.
I love most of the songs on this playlist. And I think its just got a good mix in there, from the first stage of broken heart when everything just hurts so much that you can’t imagine ever getting past it, to the time when you’re mostly ok and ready to go back among the living again. Let me just say though, and I speak from experience, that the decision to ultimately live your life again will only come from you. You take as much time as you like to process your feelings, do not allow anyone to rush you. However, don’t take too long wallowing in the past and things that can never be that you forget to enjoy the promise of tomorrow, and the hope of what else is still to come to your life.
Here’s my personal favourites from this playlist, with the lyrics that have really resonated with me when I was struggling with my own broken heart. 😉
Gravity – Sara Bareilles
“…I live here on my knees as I try to make you see that you’re everything I think I need here on the ground. But you’re neither friend nor foe, though I can’t seem to let you go. The one thing that I still know is you’re keeping me down.”
Oh Sara, sometimes you just have to know when to let go when you love someone so much that you start to lose yourself.
Baby Don’t You Break My Heart Slow – Vonda Shepard
“I’d rather you be mean than love and lie. I’d rather hear the truth and have to say goodbye. I’d rather take the blow, at least then I would know. But baby, don’t you break my heart slow.”
I think there’s nothing worse than being in a limbo of uncertainty. If its over, I’d rather just know.
Boys Don’t Cry – Plumb
“I used to hold your hand, so tight there was no question. But now even when you’re near, I’ve never felt so alone.”
Ah, that feeling of desperation when you just know something’s wrong but don’t have the courage to ask or know for certain.
Congratulations – Blue October
“I came to see the light in my best friend, you seem as happy as you’ve ever been. My chance of being open is broken and now you’re Mrs. Him. My words they don’t come out right but I’m trying to say I’m happy for you. I think I’ll take that drive, I wanted to give you something I’ve been wanting to give to you for years: my heart”
When I first heard this song, I think I was 21 at the time and still getting over the fact that my best friend (whom I’ve been in love with for the better part of 5 years) is with another girl. I think I nearly died from heartache (insert eyeroll here). I’ve mostly gotten over it. But I’ve also promised myself I will never fall for a friend ever again, its just a special kind of hell. Shout out to Stephenie Myers for recommending this song when she posted her Twilight reading playlist.
Keep Breathing – Ingrid Michaelson
“I want to change the world instead I sleep. I want to believe in more than you and me. But all that I know is I’m breathing, all I can do is keep breathing, all we can do is keep breathing now.”
Yep, this is the first phase. That curling up in bed, crying your heart out and ignoring the world phase when even breathing seems to take up all your energy. This one was famously played on the Grey’s Anatomy Season 2 Finale and its still one of the most epic scenes I’ve ever seen on telly.
Gale Song – The Lumineers
“…and all this too shall pass, this loneliness won’t last”
It will pass, hang in there.
Not As We – Alanis Morissette
“Day one, day one: start over again. Step one, step one: I’m barely making sense. For now I’m faking it till I’m pseudo making it. From scratch begin again, but this time as I and not as We.”
Whenever I feel like I’m finally ready to move on from whatever heartbreak I’m going through at the time, this is the first song I listen to. I think its just got such beautiful lyrics and everyone can relate to it. Anyone who tells you that its easy to get over someone is lying. Sometimes you’re only pretending to live your life again, but that’s ok. Eventually, you’ll stop pretending and start living again. Until then, fake it until you make it.
I Got You – Leona Lewis
“Coz this is love and life and nothing we can both control. And if it don’t feel right, you’re not losing me by letting me know.”
“Go ahead and say goodbye, I’ll be alright. Go ahead and make me cry, I’ll be alright. And when you need a place to run to, for better or worse I got you.”
This. This is the way to break up or get over someone who hurt you. Really, most of the time no one sets out to intentionally hurt another person, it just happens. We want what we want, we love who we love. We can’t force ourselves or other people to feel something that’s not there. I came to the conclusion, even as I was wallowing in sadness, that I value my friendship with the guy far too much to lose it over something neither of us could have controlled. So to you, you know who you are, despite everything, I got your back.
I’ll Be Okay – Amanda Marshall
“I’ll always have the memories, she’ll always have you. Fate has a way of changing, just when you don’t want it to.”
“You can’t hold on forever baby. I’ll be okay.”
And you will be. Stay strong. Have a glass of prosecco, hang out with your friends, take up a hobby. You are bigger than your heartache, you’ll be okay.
There is a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women
-Madeline Albright
This is the second in my series of reviews of Margaret Atwood’s books. The more I skim through her body of work, the more apparent it becomes that women – their roles, their relationships with men and with each other, and their daily struggles – are central to her writing. Cat’s Eye is heftier than The Handmaid’s Tale and it took me longer to finish this book. It also took me a while to sink my teeth into the writing, but when I did I was hooked. There were moments when I wasn’t quite sure what I was reading, but the prose was so beautiful and lyrical that I just felt compelled to continue.
I always feel like I can be fully myself around men. I have a lot of female friends and some of those are friendships that I know are for keeps. However, its not always easy for me to open up and be vulnerable with other women because I’m always afraid of being judged and found lacking. I get that that’s probably a symptom of some unresolved issue, possibly from my childhood, rather than a reflection on the kind of friends I have. But its the truth nevertheless.
Cat’s Eye tells the story of Elaine Risley, a somewhat famous Canadian painter who’s come back to her hometown of Toronto for a special exhibit. While there, she’s haunted by memories of her childhood friends, particularly Cordelia, who was the little ringleader of their group.
The story alternates between the present and flashbacks of Elaine’s childhood, starting with the day her family moved to Toronto after a sort of nomadic lifestyle (her father, I just learned from Wikipedia, was an entomologist. I don’t know why this was never clear to me while reading the book). Elaine’s a bit awkward when it comes to social situations probably because she’s only ever had her brother to play with. She also seems to be more comfortable playing with boys than with other girls.
After about a year of living in Toronto, and just when Elaine probably felt like she was finally getting her sea legs with it comes to her friends, Cordelia moves into the neighbourhood and becomes the Queen Bee of the group. I think she must be like a young version of Regina George from Mean Girls.
The title of the book was taken from a special kind of marble (the toy) that Elaine has and proceeded to keep in her little red purse, which gave her comfort whenever she felt like life was getting her down. It was her little secret, something that no one else has and no one else knew that she was keeping it, and especially not Cordelia.
Sweet little girls, my butt.
Cordelia’s presence changes the dynamics of the group. Elaine, because of her obliviousness and awkwardness, becomes a target for bullying. And its the kind of bullying that girls at that age seem to specialise in. I know this because I was probably once one of those girls. When I was 10, I was a part a group that consisted of the most popular girls in our year. Other girls looked up to us, they all wanted to be part of us. I always felt like a fraud back then because I could not see what was so special about me. The other girls in the group were all prettier, richer, funnier. I was just the smart one. I was too young to realise there was power in being smart and clever. I always felt like I wasn’t good enough. And just like what the other girls did to Elaine, there were times when I was deliberately excluded and alienated because I did something that the group didn’t approve of. One time I apparently got too friendly with a guy our queen bee just happened to have a crush on, I wasnt even aware of this and yet they made me feel like rubbish for a week. I think that was my first insight as to how hurtful group think among women can be.
And just like Elaine, I knew that the worst thing in the world would be to tattle. I mean, I was never driven to it. I eventually grew a pair and started to come into my own power. The worst thing was that when I did, I perpetuated this cycle of bullying by turning into one of them. We zeroed in on the other vulnerable members of the group and just teased them mercilessly. Wow, this is the first time I’ve ever had the chance to recollect these memories and I am really ashamed of myself. We made other girls cry. We called someone fish-face behind her back and proceeded to spread the nickname to the other people in the class, and it caught on like fire. We got the telling off of our lives when the girl we were calling “fish-face” cottoned on to it and decided to do the right thing and tell her mum about us. I suppose we were contrite, not because we felt bad for calling her fish-face but because we had been caught doing it. We then proceeded to ignore her afterwards. She became a pariah for like a month (which is like a year when you’re in middle school).
Elaine went through a more traumatic experience when the group decided to throw her hat into a ravine and when she was then forced by Cordelia to fetch it. They had all been told tales of bad things that happen when someone goes down into those ravines. But nevertheless, it was hard to stand up to peer pressure. So Elaine went and nearly freezes to death. In her delirium, she thought she saw an apparition of the Virgin Mary which enabled her to stand up and somehow get home. Her mum suddenly became fully aware of how much the situation has disintegrated, and the girls eventually apologised albeit insincerely. There was the sense that Elaine had betrayed the group by bringing a grown-up into the situation. It was after that that Elaine finally had the courage to “break” with the group.
You never really get over it
Elaine kind of repressed the whole episode. She would eventually move on to high school, do quite well, get into art school, do quite well, have a husband, get divorced – you know, the cycles of life. Throughout all that she would meet Cordelia sporadically, and the repressed experience would influence most of her life choices and especially her art. You know that girl we called “fish-face”? There’s no telling just how much we’ve altered her life because of that episode. God only knew whether she had fully internalised the whole thing. I can only apologise for making her a victim of my attempt to cover up my own insecurities back then. Because if they were busy bullying her they wouldn’t be bullying me.
What it all comes down to…
I have a somewhat simplistic credo in life that I apply in all my interactions with other people, but particularly with other women; and its that I will never say anything about them behind their back if its a thing that I can’t say to their face. I also now choose friendships on the basis of whether I can truly open up and be myself when I’m with them. However, it is my belief that – just like love – you can never really be open enough to give something of yourself if you’re not whole. Like, allowing yourself to be bullied or to pretend to be someone you’re not just to be accepted is a symptom of someone who’s not comfortable in their own skin. You have to love yourself first before you become involved with others, whether its relationships with men or friendships with other women. If Elaine had loved herself more, she would never have allowed her life to become what it was. She would not have needed to use her relationships with other men as a crutch for when she was feeling unhappy or empty. She would never have allowed herself to be defined by who she was to others. She would be happy just being Elaine.
I guess the greatest compliment I can pay this book is that it will make you think, and it will mean different things – and be given different interpretations – by different people. It will resonate with anyone who’s ever had to go through the dynamics and politics of childhood friendship.
Blabbaholics and Bookworms 