My Mother and Her Daughter

I came across this article on the Philippine Daily Inquirer (via Facebook). As I browsed through my news feed, I thought it was just another negligible article that my uncle posted. And then I spotted my last name! And the middle name that I share with my mother! And then her name! What the hell?

Of course I clicked it and this is what I read. I've been told tales of how astoundingly beautiful people think she is. I've met older men who, upon discovering that she is in fact my mother, would get that dreamy, nostalgic look on their faces as they look back on their youth and say, "Oh, I used to buy Jingle Magazine because of her." My cinematography teacher in my senior year knew her from when she'd model for him. I've heard stories of how boys would visit her, and how the guests at my grandmother's diner/inn would frustratedly ask her why my mom wouldn't date them (she had dignified reasons).

Read the full article here.

Being my mother's daughter, there was always some pressure to measure up, or at least bear some semblance of kinship. It doesn't help that I look nothing like her, or that I'm twice her waifly petite frame, or that my hair was crazy, and that I look every bit the Godzilla mutation that she isn't. But I guess at 24 years old, being around her for all those years, there's nothing else to do but to be okay with it. Much like the recent childhood-shattering scientific discoveries that the dinosaurs had feathers, I've grown to realize that I have feathers too, and I've grown to be quite comfortable with my skin.

But at 24 years old, I feel like I'm still nowhere near what she had down-pat when she was 24. I'm not meeting any new boys. I'm even going to go as far as saying that they might even be somewhat scared of me.  I haven't done the remarkable thing that will establish my existence with the one thing that I will be remembered for. But in my mother's case, her remarkable thing was something she was born with. The lucky duck.

Instead, I'm sitting behind this computer, typing this out. 

Nevertheless, I am a daughter that is proud of her mother in many ways! And what this is, is circuitously really just her lighting a fire under my ass and telling me to get off it and be great already!

Forever Alone

In a few days I will be entering the week which will round off my first month working at ABS-CBN. So far it's been a ride, and is probably one of the biggest accomplishments I've attained for myself, all by myself (i.e. sin nepotism).

So far I haven't run out of things to do, and I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon. As a matter of fact, I'm assuming that this is as light of a load as it comes. And so far, I love what I do -- watching screeners of TV shows from all around the world, evaluating them, and putting my recommendations on the table. With all this content, needless to say, I'm getting an education in world cultures without even leaving my desk -- the desk that will pay for the traveling that all this culture education will supplement.

The goal is to hit Europe next year. Numero uno is to be deemed worthy to go on a buying trip with the bosses to Cannes in April and then stay behind maybe a week or two. Dos is to hit it on my own in August with my amigas. Cue belt-tightening sound effects.

The one tiny downside is that I feel like my social life is very slowly but equally surely slipping away. My friends are all either moving away or getting chained somewhere. Now I can't even chat with them online anymore as my lifelines to the outside world (and pretty much everything else) have been blocked at work. And coming from a small team of very busy people, there aren't too many people to talk to here besides the be-subtitled Koreans and the Latin Americans.

You feel me? I know my boy Al Green does.

Al Green, "I'm So Tired of Being Alone"