Learning to Live Beyond Compare

Recently, I learned that a friend in grade school is a published and multi-awarded author and her books, about 40 of them and counting, sell in leading bookstores. Not only that, she is also teaching and completed her doctorate degree abroad. Of course I've known all along that she is writing children's books, but I didn't realize the extent of her work.  

For a while this made me wonder what I did all these years and why I'm not as accomplished as she is. I immediately felt inadequate especially since I just started my blog, and still groping at that, while writing is her forte. What if she reads my blogs, I thought, wouldn't she think them mediocre? Shall I stop now? I asked myself; then again: why should I?  This is just play to me and I don't really mind if it lacks literature quality, it's just my self expression. 

Please don't get me wrong, I'm not in competition with her, I'm not the competitive type, I'm more of a happy-for-you kind of person. Besides  this friend is so unaffected and humble, very sincere, gracious and quick to give praise; but maybe this news just unsettled me a bit. After a while I realized that it is all about the choices I made and then I wondered how much she had given up to be where she is right now. After all the bottom line is that I'm happy where I am today.

Did you ever wonder why we use our friends' lifestyle , their attitude, their successes and acquisitions as yardsticks for our own happiness? Why are we living on somebody else's standard anyway? And why do we even care if we don't measure up?

Experts say that it is all about social comparisons and external goals. Read on.

"Why does she look so slim and beautiful all the time? She looks like she never had a bad hair day in her life; she's always so put together, I feel so lousy being with her. "

"She only uses Prada and Gucci, It makes me feel self conscious to put my bag beside hers. She always has the latest gadget; just this Christmas she got herself the new iPad air."

"Oh, I just love those killer heels she wore to the office today, sorry for me wearing my old reliable pumps."

"Did you know that her husband just got promoted and was given a brand new car?  What is taking my husband so long to be promoted? "

"I envy the guys next door, the whole family is always happy, they travel frequently and enjoy eating out often, I'm sad that we can't be like  them"

Can you relate to the above comments? 

 If you were a husband, don't you regret bringing your wife to your friend's  house warming?  Didn't it bother you when she won't stop raving over the big, beautiful house in an elite subdivision; the six-car garage; the state-of-the-arte kitchen with a sub-zero freezer, the oven-whatever and the big-as-a-gym bathroom?"

If not your wife, it could be you who wished you never went at all, since now you feel frustrated that you couldn't give the same to your family. 

Why do we compare ourselves to others when most often than not we are affected? Wouldn't it be better if we overcome all impulses to react on such comparisons? Truth be told, experts believe that there is no such standard to speak of; and  that's the basic reason we validate how we are doing by comparing ourselves to others; the only measure we know. So we always think that the neighbor's lawn is always greener, their house prettier, their income bigger, and so on,  it never ends, really!

And this makes us frustrated and unhappy. 

Today, my priority is finding peace, joy and calmness in my life, I don't need these comparisons.  I'll be better off just counting my blessings like I always do. I'll just be happy being myself; I know I'm unique and one-of-a-kind in this world.  I will follow my passions, chase my dreams, work on my skills to improve my competence in things I do, ( like writing this blog for instance ) and all other activities I may undertake. 

Easier said than done?

Making old friends gold

What was that song in grade school about  "making new friends but keeping the old, one silver and the other gold " ?

"She's an old friend ",  we often say, but what do we really mean; old as in aged or old having met the person early, early on?

At my advanced age, I remember more friends and classmates from grade school, more than from college. Does memory work that way, or were there just too many distractions and preoccupation in college more that in our younger days?

Thanks to Facebook, a former friend and classmate from kindergarten found me. She now resides in the US but came back for vacation.  I invited her for brunch and we had a lot of time catching up. Knowing that I enjoy being with friends, my caring husband treated us to a late lunch, thus prolonging the reunion till mid-afternoon. I had a great time and I feel good.

I haven't seen this friend since we cried, hugged and said farewell at our high school graduation, except briefly seeing her at a Pantranco bus terminal near our province. TodayI learned that for the passed 30 years or so;  with the exemption of the last four when she retired and left for the US, we practically moved within the same circles,  in fact, we may have even  bumped into each other without knowing it, much less remembering how each other look nowadays.  While we regret having missed the connection for so many years, still life is good, it gave us the opportunity to re-connect.

Finally, again today, when we hugged and said till next meeting, we did not cry, we smiled.

Pen Pals

One afternoon in Junior High, I received a Song Hits Pamphlet.  I was surprised for  I haven't ordered one. Looking through the pages, I got another surprise, my name was included in the pen pal section. Who could have entered it?

Do I sound like I'm talking Mars  or Venus here?  Let me explain.

First the song hits: every week this small magazine, almost the size of a paperback but much thinner comes out bearing the lyrics of the latest hits and specifies which ones made it to the top ten. Back then, listening to the radio was a preoccupation, so this is useful so one can sing along. Not only that, there's a pen pal section at the back pages, a list of names of people wanting to receive letters. To  have your name included you just fill an attached form and send it for a fee; like advertising oneself. If someone will write you, then you have a pen pal.

In the late 50's, communication was limited to letter writing via the postal system and telegrams via PT&T; landlines, if there are any, were only confined in Manila and key cities, but not in my hometown.  Digital conversations, text messaging, voice mail, etc is yet to evolve. 

Okay, can you get me now? Shall I continue with my story?

.......then letters came pouring in. Oh my, all sorts of letters from both sexes.  At first I answered them all, for in the get- acquainted stage, I developed an stereo-type letter.  They all want to know me better; some expressed a wish to see me personally, but if we meet, we would soon graduate from pen pal letters to friendly letters. Apparently, I'm a little bit hot myself for they kept answering my letters  too, Everyday I can't wait for the postman to pass by to give my letters, excited to write back immediately. 

Suddenly, some of the boys changed their tune, they practiced love letters on me. Enough!, I said and eventually dropped them all except two, who wrote very lovely letters, I could really learn from them. The correspondence went on, Just can't recall how it stopped, maybe we weren't creative enough that we ran out of topics to write about, but it was fun while it lasted.

By the way, I turned in this story as an essay on "my most unforgettable experience " in College English 101 and got an A, but I wont expect you to rate me even if you intend to give an A+. I just enjoyed sharing this. 

My Childhood Christmas

My childhood Christmas memories are very much associated with my mama. Born and bred by a half Spanish mestiza mother and a dark-skinned Filipino father, (the author of the Philippine Readers used in Grade school all over the country ); mama turned out very fair and delicate. Oh, she was so beautiful and smelled sweet all the time. She plays the piano and had a nice voice. It was just logical that when my papa brought her home to our hometown, she immediately latched herself to religious activities, the Legion of Mary, the mother butler and played the organ for the church choir.

Our family Christmas is a catholic celebration revolving around church festivities. Celebration starts with the Misa De Gallo (dawn masses) on the 16th. Though we had a Buick, we walk with the town folks to church, it is always dark and cold; no street lights in the province, but it was okay, My papa has a big flashlight, same with the other dads.

We never missed a day since no one would play the organ but my mama. I sang with the choir having memorized the hymns in Latin except my favorite which is sang in Spanish during offertory, the "Pastores a Belen "

However, the good part is buying bibingka ( rice cake, baked in a clay bowl heated below and on top ). I used to slip out ahead before the last blessing to beat the other buyers because there's always a long queue. Some days I'd bring an egg and some cheese to add to the rice dough making the bibingka more yummy.

When we get home, it is still dark. I go back to sleep, under the family mosquito net while my mama would address Christmas cards. I recall, it was a lot, she must have sent everyone in town plus the relatives in Manila and in America.

To me our Christmas feast is the best! My papa and mama would invite friends who went to midnight mass. They would dance tango all night; that's when I developed my fascination for the tempo. My mama served turkey and roast beef; at least two salads, cakes, ( my mama baked a lot and at the time, if you bake you are elite, no food channels then). I remember gallons of magnolia tin cans of roasted chestnuts, grapes, apples and oranges as well, but the highlight is torrones and muscatel served after dinner, both imported from Spain. See, even at home, we had bread and wine.

The season does not end after Christmas and the new year for Catholics observe the feast of the Three Kings. My brothers and i would hang back our socks, not stockings and we get money in the morning. How I truly believed Santa Claus and the Three Kings back then. One morning on the feast day I woke up early, look out the window and saw three men walking down the street below. I thought I just missed them a few minutes after they filled our socks.

Oh, what I'll give to live that Christmas again!

What's walking got to do with me?

After 30 years of many responsibilities weighted on me by a hectic career coupled with the management of my convenience store, I was relieved when I retired; free from a structured time schedule without answering to anyone but myself. It was really good for a while but it left me with plenty of time on my own. So, I started moving around the furniture and de- clutter our home. But oh, how convenient it was for me to keep opening the refrigerator or the pantry to look for something to munch on.

After dinner is my favorite time of day when I sit down to read a good novel on my iPad while glancing at the tv program my husband happen to be watching. This led to midnight snacks of chips, cookies, chocolates, cakes, candied fruits, "creamed ice" (notice they all start with the letter "C") and yes, sometimes casta, oops, wrong, it's pasta. What an incredible combination of fat and carbo I've been eating!

You can guess what happened next. I was dizzy most of the time and I could hardly get up from bed in the morning. My doctor advised a complete laboratory test that gave high marks in FBS (sugar) and SGOT/SGPT(fatty liver). The solution? Diet and exercise. 

I had to change my eating habits, brown rice, I can tolerate but wheat bread?, taste like cardboard to me. I had to walk as well, before sunrise preferably. I have to tell you, it wasn't easy, old habits are hard to break. I'm no longer used to waking early enough. When my alarm comes off, I bargain for another 5 minutes, then 10 until I sleep again; when I wake up the sun is high and harsh.

My family kept urging me, my husband even bought me the latest neon Nike at that time, just to entice me. I finally got started, my iPhone and hanky hanging on a chain around my neck, my old reliable Oakley on, and my red umbrella open. Yes, I don't want to have freckles and dark spots. My nosy neighbor found the umbrella weird, but hey, who cares as long as I can do my exercise.

Today, my test is normal but I shall keep on walking. You may not imagine how it makes me feel, I look forward to walking everyday, it has become my lifestyle. Sick or not, walking makes me feel good and gives me a better perspective in life. I intend to keep walking for my health, for my life and I'll never walk away from it.

Green Tea Cream: My Current Passion

After an hour of daily walk we need to settle down a bit, so my husband and I developed a habit of having a drink before heading home.  We order drinks, he reads the papers and I browse through a magazine.

As I'm avoiding sugar, the only drink I can find along the Food Street is Starbucks green tea cream, a tall daily.   Occasionally, I ask myself:  "isn't daily too indulgent? " and I answer back, " why not, it's my only indulgence. "

As I enter Starbucks, I always feel like I'm meeting friends.  The guard would automatically reserve a choice umbrella table outside. The baristas would greet me by name. They are gracious to all customers but they know me and my "usual "; the drink I crafted for myself: green tea cream, tall, no whip, sugar free , nonfat, more milk, less ice and three scoops of green tea powder.

The generous addition of the green tea powder is good for me since I learned that green tea has a lot of health benefits and is antioxidant, especially the authentic matcha green tea from Japan, made  only from pure leaves, pulverized and the veins removed. I feel I'm getting results since it solved one physical problem;  I can now flex my left thumb, when earlier just moving it was painful. I've wondered about that though, but when I make an inventory of my daily diet, that is the consistent one. Right or wrong, I believe it is good for me and it is refreshing and tastes delicious. Try it sometime.

As the barista swiped my Starbucks card today, so I get points, I asked to punch it as Christmas blend so I complete my stars for a diary. They allow me that since they know the Christmas blends are too sweet for my health.

Then the barista tells me: " Mam Rita, you know that our day here is not complete without seeing you" and I joked back: " so, why am I not getting an upgrade? ".  They all laughed and I got a grande but I paid for a tall.

As simple and ordinary the encounter was, I feel good around these people.