Hi there. I hope you enjoyed my posts, but unfortunately, I have decided to vacate this premise and found myself a new home. Consider this last post a change of address form. I would certainly love to hear from you, so please follow me to my new home, http://www.theadventuresofcate.wordpress.com.
See you on the other side,
Cate
When I was in Junior High, I made my first BFFN. I had to move to another city and I did not see her again until 2006, when I finally met her husband and two kids. That was also the last time I saw her physically. I now get to see her kids grow up via Facebook. I made an instant friendship with a beautiful soul when I was 18. If I didn’t move to Virginia we would have ruled the Bay Area together. Thank goodness for MySpace and Facebook, we get to keep in touch, although I still have yet to see her physically. I had a friend once that I believed was my “soul mate” friend. In 2004, she moved away and I had no contact with her until last year when I found her on Facebook. I then find out she’s now married and is expecting her first child.
I left many best friends behind in Virginia Beach when I moved to California. None of them got to see me get married, attend my baby shower, nor visit me at the hospital when my first child was born. I’m now in the process of closing on a house that they will more than likely never see. Come to think of it, if it weren’t for Facebook, I will not be in contact with most of them because I can almost guarantee you that most of them will never pick up the phone to actually call me regularly. And why is that? Because of the distance? Did I miss a fine print somewhere? You know, the one that says, “hey, let’s be friends, we’re gonna have so much fun together, hang out with each other all the time, we’ll laugh and cry together and be there for each other no matter what, but ONLY if you stay within my vicinity.”
So what does this mean? Has Facebook or any other social media become substitutes for friendship? Is leaving posts on someone’s wall make up for the missed phone call? Is commenting on your pictures and your status enough to sustain a friendship? Really? Why can’t we put more efforts on our friendships just like we do with our romantic relationships? Sure you don’t get to kiss or have sex with your friends (at least you’re not suppose to) but aren’t they worth making that phone call and/or visit to? What has really changed in the friendship besides the geographic separation? Do you actually believe that talking to someone once or twice a year forms a friendship? Do you not realize how much can happen in a year and how much you’ve missed out on? We’re not talking about people who you went to elementary school with that you have not seen nor spoken to in years. We’re talking about people who got to experience life with you. People who were there for you through good and bad. People that answered your call in the middle of the night while you were crying and would wake up the next morning thinking of ways to put a smile on your face. People that held up your hair while throwing up from a drunken night. These are the people who stood by you, without judgment, and accepted you for who you are and all your foolishness. Are they not deserving to hear your voice more often or perhaps see your face?
Is spending $300 for a roundtrip ticket inconceivable for a friend? Why is that? You would hop on a plane in a heartbeat if it were a romantic interest. Is it money issues? Lets see. If one saves a dollar everyday they would accumulate a whopping $365 a year. So you might have to miss out on a few trips to Starbucks but what’s the opportunity cost? You get to see your dear friend! But I don’t know. I guess I’m just starting to figure out what true friendship really looks like. And it isn’t the distance because I have a friend that moved away in August, who has already visited me once and we still call each other almost every day, all the while being Facebook friends. So what’s the real excuse? Or could it be me? Should I just accept the fact that maybe I was nothing more than just their “Best Friend For Now?” That I brought something in to their lives when they needed it most and that moment has now passed? Maybe. And maybe I ought to think about it the same way. So all I can really do now is forever cherish those memories and be thankful for the moments I got to share with them. The bottom line is, life goes on and everyone’s too busy to maintain long distance friendships. It’s hard work. I guess that’s why they invented social medias and texting. You can announce anything of importance going on in your life in masses. How cool is that? Who has the time anymore to actually call every single person of significance to you? Seriously. I’m way too busy staring at the wall.
I have a lot of friends often express to me their unhappiness in their relationship. Wait, I don’t mean unhappiness, more like, dissatisfied. I appreciate that I’m the friend they come to for everything and I know that when they tell me their dissatisfaction, they are merely expressing frustrations. I know they come to me because I do not judge and know that no relationship is perfect. What I’m trying to say is that I only listen, I don’t give advice unless they ask, in which case, I tell them my Quarter story. Back in high school I had my first puppy love. This guy was tall, dark, and handsome. He was an athlete with a bright future. Unfortunately, that was also the problem. He had potential. I was with him because of what he might be in the future. In the meantime however, I was not as pleased. He didn’t open all my doors for me, he didn’t have a car yet, he didn’t want to go to college, he looked at other girls and so on. The point I’m trying to make is that I liked him but there were also things that irked me about him. So I was talking to my guidance counselor and I happened to mention my love dilemma, which at the time seemed like the end of the world if I didn’t share my feelings with someone. So she listened, and gave me the best advice that I tried to live by (hence the term tried, because let’s be real, sometimes we still make poor choices in spite of what we already know) in all of my dating years. Here goes it.
Cate: I really like my boyfriend but I don’t think he’s perfect. Maybe one day he will be so I oughta stay around.
Counselor: Hmmm. So you like him but he’s not perfect?
Cate: Yeah. But he’s so cute though.
Counselor: Well, cute can only take you so far.
Cate: Maybe he’ll get even cuter and we’ll make really really cute babies.
Counselor: Before you do that, let me give you something to think about.
Cate: Okay, shoot!
Counselor: Suppose you have to make a very important phone call. So you go to the phone booth (side note here: this was in the early 90’s so we didn’t have cell phones. We had pagers and beepers though) but realized the booth only accept quarters (side note again: can you believe it was only 25 cents to make a call from the phone booth then? And you got to talk for like 30 minutes, so cool!). So you go on to ask people you meet in hopes that they will have a quarter for you. One guy tells you he doesn’t have a quarter but has twenty-five cents, two dimes and a nickel to be exact. So you say what the heck and tried it anyway. The booth just kept spitting it out. So you say thank you and you go on to ask someone else. He tells you he has a dime and three nickels. Still no luck so you bid him farewell. You see your boyfriend and you ask him, he comes up with five nickels but because he likes you so much he looks around to see if he can find it for you. He looks in his room and found twenty-five pennies, under his bed he finds four nickels and five pennies, the couch helped him with a dime, two nickels and five pennies, he even asked his mom but she only has a dime, a nickel and ten pennies. You realized that even though he tried his hardest to give and find you what you need to make that call, he just doesn’t have it. So you keep looking until you find the one with the quarter. And guess what? It’s not like he came up short because he still had twenty-five cents, he just didn’t have what you’re looking for. But someday, some girl is going to ask him if he has exactly five nickels, just like someone will give you the exact quarter that you need.
Cate: Hah.
Counselor: So what I’m trying to say is that you can’t settle for what could be because now is the only thing that matters to the heart. Maybe one day he’ll have a quarter but right now he doesn’t. Everyone is perfect in their own way, they just have to find the one that fits their slot.
Cate: Wow. I never thought about it like that. Interesting. I think I know what you mean. The phone booth is a metaphor for my heart and my heart requires a quarter for it to beat. And even though my boyfriend or others for that matter might have exactly twenty-five cents, they just don’t have the quarter it needs in order to reach me. They might have a dial tone, but it ain’t ringing. Way cool Mrs. G!
So there you have it guys and gals. The best advice ever. I can’t tell you enough how much this piece of information saved me from unhealthy relationships. So next time you’re having troubles with your significant other, just ask yourself what kind of change he/she has and if he/she has the exact one that you need.
Okay. So I was at Target today enjoying my shopping spree when grandma decided to ruin it for me. I was browsing through all the sales items in the baby department and found a couple of sweaters for my little man. Like any other shopper, I took them off the rack and placed them on my cart along with all the other items I planned on purchasing. I turned my back from my shopping cart for a few minutes while I look for more awesome deals when all of the sudden one of the sweaters I picked out went missing. “Where did it go?’ is what I asked myself. I’ve decided to trace my steps to see if perhaps I had dropped it on the floor or something but nothing. It just mysteriously disappeared. By now I’m pissed and totally clueless so I’ve decided to do a little investigation. I’m following everyone around me, getting awfully close to their cart to see if they’re the culprit, still nothing, until I saw grandma walking away from the baby department to the electronics section. I went with my hunch and followed her. I think I might have scared her a little bit because she went to go to one of the workers there and pretend to ask a question. I took that opportunity to look in her cart and guess what? She had the sweater in there. I so badly wanted to yank it out and tell her to be ashamed of herself but I couldn’t find the balls to do it. So I just kept following her around and hoping she would grow a conscience and give me back my stuff but I was sadly disappointed. I’m actually still in shocked. I mean, come on! I know you’re old but do you have to play the grandma card? What kind of example are you teaching your grandkids? That it’s okay to steal other people’s stuff. I know that technically the item was not mine yet because I have not paid for it but geez. It was in my cart! Grandmas are not grandfathered to the shopping etiquette rules, which is, ONCE IT’S IN YOUR CART, IT’S YOURS TO PAY FOR! The thing that upset me most is that it was the only one left in my son’s size. My husband said I should have grabbed it out of her cart since I can outrun and take her down anyway. LOL. Next time I’ll just be more careful as not to leave my cart unattended. Shopping lesson learned. Thanks grandma!
Today was a tiring day for me. My little man has a cold and was fuzzy the entire day. I have a set schedule that I usually follow to make sure my day is spent productively and efficiently but that all went to hell on this windy day. I just feel so awful when my child is sick and he can’t really express to me the aches and pain he feels. I await the day where he can actually communicate with me in a way that I am able to comprehend. He cries over everything when he isn’t feeling well. But I don’t blame him. He’s got a runny nose along with watery eyes and coughing. He’s having difficulty breathing at night when he’s asleep because he’s congested. I think tomorrow I’m gonna make him some of my chicken and rice soup. That should make him feel better. I really hope and pray that it’s just a cold or possibly allergies and nothing more. He hasn’t gotten his flu shot yet because his doctor ran out. I guess everyone’s trying to take precautions this winter with all the swine flu, err, H1N1, that’s going around. Anyhoo. Thats all I have for now. Nothing really exciting, unless you find cleaning up snots all day interesting!
A few years back, before I met my husband, I used to blog on my Myspace page (back when myspace was cool) about being single and the dating world. My previous post reminded me to dig up some old stories and share them with you. Reading through them now made me laugh, so hopefully you’ll enjoy them as much as I did. Here’s the first of many old blogs soon to be resurfacing in here. This one in particular is called “My Issues With Love.”
Alright! Enough already! For some reason people feel the need to ask me if I’m single and when I say yes, they proceed with why? They can’t seem to understand why no one has managed to catch me (I promise, its their exact words! Others say I’m way too attractive to not have a boyfriend – which is even worse). It’s really bugging the heck out of me so let me straighten this shit out right now. I am single by choice. I’ve had serious relationships in the past, so it’s not like I have commitment issues, at least none that I know of. My last relationship ended over three years ago and I’ve been loving singledom ever since. Now, now. Don’t think for a moment that I’ve not had any dates or seen men for the last three years. I’m not that Catholic. Let me just break it down for you. I have a fear of getting my heart broken, not to be confused with “commitment phobia.” I don’t want to suffer another heartbreak. My first and hopefully last one was three years ago. That was enough! So in an effort to protect my heart, I hid behind my friends. I made them my world. They became my boyfriend. Another attempt was by being picky. I’d go on first dates, and I’d find something wrong with them, anything at all, just to convince myself not to go on a second date. And for those who managed to make it past the first dates, most did not make it to third, and the rest of the few who did, well, they had no idea what was coming! See, I’ve already set them up for failure. They never even had a chance. All I was doing was waiting around for them to fuck up so I could say to myself, “Self, you were right. This one was just another disappointment.” See, when you anticipate for failure, you’re preparing yourself for future disappointments. I like to sabotage things. I’m very good at it. I’m sure someday I’ll look back at this time in my life and regret that I missed out on a few good men! I have a wall, a thick ass wall in front of me. My heart is heavily guarded. It will take an army to take that shit down! It’s my defense mechanism. And then there’s the issue of my getting bored easily. I have a short attention span problem. Even if a guy can keep me intrigued for a couple of weeks, it starts to dwindle down shortly thereafter. So he must have his best game on when it comes to dealing with me. Not to mention all the bad guys out there who are only out for one thing. Quality has seemed to disappear from their genetic makeup. Sometimes I wonder if there’s a way to alter men genetically and turn them into princes rather than the frogs that they are. So even if I meet the perfect guy for me, the bad guys before him fucked it up already. He has to pay for their mistakes, which I know is unfair but true nonetheless. I just hope that he will fight for me and would not give up easily. Of course, my reasons will not be complete without my high expectations issues. I expect too much, so much that I think they are far beyond anyone’s reach. I am however, working on this one. I’m starting to understand that compromising doesn’t necessarily mean settling. But somehow I still have this thought that if I’m a complete package, shouldn’t I look for the same? The nice guys bore me and the bad guys annoy me. Surely there’s a guy out there looking for “a girl in the streets and a freak in the sheets.” I’ve got beauty, brains and wit. So why can’t I have it all? The romance, the passion, fire and explosion? The flowers, candy, wild sex and crazy love? I want chivalry, as well as naughtiness. I want a guy who can melt my heart away while he gets me hot and bothered. He can’t just be one or the other, that’s not going to turn me on. I need all the combination. Sweet and sour. Naughty and nice. Popcorn and raisinets. Texas Pete and eggs. Sweet tea and lemonade. Is that really too much to ask for?
Someone once was asked me why it took me so long to find a husband. I wasn’t quite sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, but I guess people assume that if you have a pretty face you should be married early on, that being single past the age of twenty five is unacceptable and they start to think you’re a lesbian. Well let me tell you something. I happened to be one of those people who were in no rush to be married. I enjoyed being single. I did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I was free and I wasn’t quite sure if my freedom was something I was ready to give up. It’s not like I didn’t have an opportunity if I wanted to. Before I met my husband I was proposed to five times, thank you very much. Of course I only accepted one, but you can clearly see how that turned out. For me, finding a husband was the easy part. It was finding the “right” husband that was a bit of a challenge. I can probably write a book about my search for Prince Charming and all the frogs I had to kiss in between, but for now, consider this a teaser. So let me reminisce for a bit, starting at the age of 18 just to make things legal. I was with a guy that convinced me to follow him three thousand miles away because he just couldn’t live without me. I find out shortly after moving that he had a one night stand with someone while trying to convince me. I don’t care if we were broken up and you got drunk over it. I felt tricked so I had to cut him loose. After mister trickster, I decided to date someone ten years older hoping he was more mature and distinguished. I was right. He was so romantic, always saying and doing the right things. I even remember him going to a phone booth in the middle of a hurricane just to make sure I was okay. And when his car broke down, he rode his bicycle thirty miles to see me. Of course when I found out that he couldn’t get a car loan because of his bad credit and asked if I can co-sign for him, it was time for me to bail. And then there was the guy I thought was the one. He was perfect except for one flaw; his mother. Good thing I didn’t marry him because let’s face it, three’s a crowd. There was a self made millionaire from NY. I had to break up with him because I couldn’t stand his accent. I remember meeting a fireman who wanted to shuck my corn, and I mean literally. His problem was that I was only able to get a hold of him when he was at work. When I confronted him of my concern and accused him of having a wife, he acted stupid. I hung up on him and never spoke to him again, all the while hoping my house doesn’t catch fire. I finally gave a guy a chance after courting me for six months just to find him bumpin’ and grindin’ at a club with someone else. Hello? Can you be a bit more discreet if you’re gonna try to be a player? But that’s not why I ended it. I felt insulted because she looked like she fell from the ugly tree and got run over by a truck. If you’re gonna date someone else while you’re dating me, try to find someone similar, if not better than me. I dated a personal trainer that took his training a little too personal, if you know what I mean. A doctor that I shared many interests with, including men. Another fireman who slept with a grandmother. I don’t care if she was only in her forties. A grandma is a grandma. Period. There was an Air Force captain that was hung like a horse. I had to kick him out of my house because I was sure I would die if anything progressed between us. All I can see was my obituary saying “Cate. Loving daughter. Wonderful friend. Decent human being. Died of over stimulation.” I was fascinated by an eloquent engineer. He certainly knew how to work and run an engine. So much that one night, he and his friend decided to hit the town and picked up some random chic to bring home to his house and ran a train on her. He tried to blame it on me for making him wait too long for sex. And according to him, it wasn’t a threesome. Whatever. It was certainly disgusting. Oh, did I mention he was still hung up on his stripper ex girlfriend? Ha! How about a baller who took me on a very expensive romantic weekend getaway just to ask me later why I didn’t wanna have sex with him after spending so much on me. Um that’s because I’m not a whore, stupid! I hung out with a chiropractor by day, gigolo by night. A Navy SEAL that was way too cocky for my taste. A business owner from Hicksville. A bible thumper. A closet married man. A psycho and a stalker. A professional dater who was an habitual liar. A dead beat dad who gave up his paternal rights. A nymph who will have sex with anything that moves, and he did. There’s just way too many men and too many stories to list here guys. Perhaps a book is not such a bad idea huh? Now I don’t want everyone thinking that I dated nothing but losers because there were also plenty of men that I felt were absolutely perfect, just not perfect for me. The fact that I dated a lot of men helped me figure out what my likes and dislikes were. So when my husband came into the picture, I was well aware of what kind of man I was willing to share my life with. And let me conclude by saying that waiting for Mister Right was definitely worth it, because in the end, I ended up with the best.
My husband and I have known each other for three years and have been married for two and a half. Yes, we were those crazy people who got married only after knowing each other for a little while. All I can say to that is that when the heart knows, the heart knows. It’s weird to think that I actually lived my life without him before, all twenty eight years of them. How could that be because now that I have him in my life it’s as if he has always been there? Sometime I can’t help but wonder that maybe our destiny has already been chosen for us, that each path we take brings us a little closer to where we’re supposed to be. When I look back at my beginnings, there’s no way I would have known that I would be where I am today. Sure that’s how most people feel, but isn’t it fascinating to look back and realize how every road, every decision, every move you’ve ever taken, and every person you have ever encountered led you to where you are? I’ll give you an example. I was born in the Philippines. My husband in Pomona, California. I left the Philippines and moved to California when I was 13, and by then my husband was living somewhere in Texas. At the age of 18 I decided to pack my stuff and moved to Virginia Beach, Virginia. Guess where my husband was at that time? West Chester, Pennsylvania. I was in Virginia for almost ten years, living my life as a single woman, have changed careers a few times, bought a couple of houses, dated many, many men, broken many hearts, fallen in love, been engaged, and had my heart broken, all the while, my husband joined the Navy, was stationed in California, went to Iraq for a year and finally arriving to Virginia Beach in 2006, where we would eventually cross path. Never would I have known that when I woke up that one winter morning, my life would be forever changed by that evening. I still remember that day. It was a Friday. I woke up, went to work, came home, got all dressed up and went out with my girls like we do every Friday nights. I guess its true what they say, that life happens when you’re busy making plans. Not long after that, I fell in love, moved to California where he is now stationed, tied the knot, got pregnant, and had a baby who is now fifteen months old! Aaahhhhhh! Life is just full of surprises! The beautiful part is that I now get to share my life with someone I love and look forward to seeing what the future has store for us! Maybe baby number two? Ya never know!
First let me explain. Lola means grandma in Tagalog. Tagalog is the official language of the Philippines. The Philippines is a country in the Asian continent, where my mother is from. That makes me one half Filipino. In an attempt to make everything easier for our son, we decided that he would call his Filipino grandmother (which is my mom) Lola and his Caucasian grandmother (my hubby’s mom), grandma. Got it? Now to my story…
I have never doubted that my mother is my real mother (although I look nothing like her) until I got pregnant. I say this because I would ask her pregnancy related questions and she would never really answer them for me. And if and when she does, they would always be someone else’s pregnancy stories. I know that it’s been quite a long time for her since she was “allegedly” pregnant with me but come on! I asked if she craved for anything in particular when she was preggers and she would respond with whatever was on the table was what she ate. I asked if she threw up or disliked any food, she would say she never threw up. I asked if I was born on schedule and she would respond with they didn’t really calculate things like that in the Philippines and so babies just came out whenever they were ready. I asked if I was an active fetus and I get no response. How did you come up with my name? Did you get any stretch marks? How much weight did you gain? Did you breast-feed? If so, for how long? When did I get my first tooth? My first word? Aaahhh!. Fine. Forget about it. So when it came time for the birth of our son I became even more suspicious that I may possibly be adopted after all. Through all the different stages and many milestones my son has gone through, my mom have never said to me that I was exactly like him or the complete opposite when I was his age. The only thing she mentioned was that I was a good baby, I never cried (really?), and I was so happy and easily amused that when I peed my pants, I would play with it. That’s all I know about my infant to toddler years. The thing that really gets me is that she can recall things that my little cousin used to do when she was his age and often compare them to my son, but not me! Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying she was a bad mother because that is far from the truth. She was and is an awesome mom. I had a wonderful childhood and have never felt unloved, not even for a second. But what I’m saying is this; I can’t ever see myself forgetting the little amusing things my son does now or will do later. I would love to be able to tell my son and his kids one day on how their daddy was when he was little. But then again, in my mom’s defense, maybe I was just a horrible little creature that she decided to erase her memory from my birth til preschool in order to keep her sanity. That’s possible right?
