Category: cat

Keys Me

So, I locked myself out of my apartment last Sunday. It felt extra dumb actually because I am quite the key neurotic. I always know where they are and every time I step outside, to throw trash for instance, I usually just unlock everything and leave the door open. I know, so safe, right. Anyway, that’s not the worst part. I locked myself out of my apartment last Sunday in nothing but an old sarong and my rattiest bikini. Sure, I had my goggles and kickboard with me. I even had a book (Concept-Based Curriculum and Instruction: Teaching Beyond Facts by Lynn Erickson) but, no keys. No phone. No Ipad. No mask to cover my face with.

Ampota. You are here. Outside. Without keys.

I was like…wtf. How the hell am I going to get back in there now?

I proceeded to blame the cat.

Blaming Mr. Marsellus Wallace. Naughty cat!

It was his fault, for stealthily zooming out the door, the moment I opened it. The plan was simple: go for a quick morning swim before leaving for the noon Sunday service. But, fail. Because my hands were full, I thought I had everything I needed, so I quickly closed the door behind me once schizophrenic Mr. Marsellus Wallace rushed back in. I glanced at everything I had in my hands and realized that, gah! I was keyless and too indecently dressed to walk to the nearest neighbor in Makati for my spare keys. It was truly a sumkinofva loser moment especially since it never happens to me.

Well, except for this one time…

It was the day Heath Ledger was found dead in his apartment. I was getting ready for work when I heard the news. I was so upset, I grabbed my one million bags, stepped out of my apartment and realized I had left my keys in the little dish by the couch, where they usually were. It was 6:45 in the morning. I remember not wanting to be late for school. I also remember thinking, how the hell am I going to get to school when my car keys are attached to my house keys? I scrambled to look for spares in all the pockets of my one million bags. Nothing. So, I called my then boyfriend’s house to ask if he could bring his keys to my place. His mom from Crazyytown answered the phone and said he already left for work. In the end, I took a cab to where he was (the driveway of his office building) and borrowed his keys. I can’t remember now if I went home to get my car, if I proceeded to work or if I made it on time. I am also not really sure anymore why Heath Ledger’s death upset me that much. What I do remember was the way this now ex-boyfriend looked at me that frantic morning. I was in the backseat of a cab saying a quick hello, reaching out for his keys, when he gave me this vacuous look. One that should have told me he had already become a complete stranger. That beneath the empty stare was a suffering soul filled to the brim with anger, resentment, immaturity and despair. That the love that defined him was perhaps, long gone. It took two more years before I let that relationship end. But I should have known then, at that moment, that it was already over.

Anyway, what I ended up doing last Sunday was go to my building lobby in my ratty bikini and old sarong and called my mom’s house from the building landline. It was not pretty but I survived. The lobby guards were sympathetic and they didn’t stare at my out-of -bed bad hair. It was also quite early, so there were not too many lurkers hanging out. Turned out that my mom’s driver, who was usually off on Sundays, was doing some work for her that day. Yay! So, after swimming and reading for an hour and half in the pool area at my building’s roof deck, my mom’s spare keys arrived. I felt relief and gratitude at the same time. I also remember thinking about what would/could happen if I was already somewhere else in the world and I didn’t have my mom to run to for times like these. Ack! But that’s for another blog entry. Anyway, in the end, life went on. I turned the key, stepped into my apartment, hugged the fat cat and thought of Heath Ledger.

grateful slice: the things we remember and access to spare keys (thanks, mom!)

Paying close attention

Work is definitely back with a vengeance and today was a typical (un)free Thursday. Busy. Quick paced. Meeting infested (both scheduled and the surprise attacks). And a little oppressive since my to do or die list seems to rise up the wazoo come second to the last day before the weekend. I guess that can and will happen to a mid-week “class-free” day. Since I don’t have to teach on Thursdays, I have managed to convince myself that I have more than the usual 8 hours to do all my blah-blah within the work day. Right.

Anyway, it’s easy to get swallowed up by work and get tunnel vision fatigue. Take it from me, a self-confessed recovering workaholic. I know that if I don’t pay attention, I can get sucked into a life defined just by my work which I have learned is not a balanced or healthy life at all. So after my long day today, I fought my way through traffic (and my lethargy) and insisted that I do yoga before going home. Boy, was I glad I did that. It was a little stressful since my yoga studio just moved to another, smaller place with less parking (and I was like 5 minutes late). Nevertheless, taking time to connect with my breath and do something good for my body was an awesome way to snap out of whatever workaholic hypnotized high I was on. It really pays to pay attention. My work brings me a lot of fulfillment and meaning but a more balanced me is a healthier, better version of me. Anyway, three other things brought me happiness today. Win.

1. These gorgeous butterfly shots (done by the kinder art class) taken by my young yearbook photographers as they did their rounds documenting student work around the school. (erm, ya, did I tell you, I moderate the yearbook and the literary magazine in school too).


my young photographers know depth of field. Win.

2. New cook ware from my mom. She is the best. So supportive of my cook-more-often 2011 challenge.

Surprise! Now...what to cook next?

3. And finally, Mr. Marsellus Wallace, my partner in naps, kicking it on my couch. Check him out. Older. Wiser. And well, a little chubbier.



he is smizing.

grateful slice: down time and things that make us go Hhhmmm….