No one escapes, No one gets out alive

It's morning and I'm doing my best thinking right now. Waiting for the coffee to finish brewing so I can pour my first mug - Hair wet, clothes a mess. I'm in a phasad for the sake of my own sanity. No one really gets it. Not really. Why I have to keep this up? It's not hard to explain but I rather not take the time, indulge, nor expose the more sad and pathetic parts of my life here on the internet.

The real world sucks.

It's the real world where I have to put on my happy face to get people to be nice to me.

Three layers of cosmetics and a tube of lipstick always in hand; All this effort just to be "presentable." To look "normal,"so that strangers won't stare at me like I'm some slob, some fresh off the boat Filipino. Mostly, in order to avoid some random person coming up to me and asking "Do you speak English?"

Fuck yeah I speak English.

It's funny what a few bottles of Maybelline can do for a person that looks as typical Islander as I do.

It's now past lunch time. 1:40 PM to be exact. I just finished my grand performance of a responsible adult. Heading to college and dropping of my son at preschool. 

I am taking up Journalism at Skyline and signed up to intern for their biweekly campus circular. I always wanted to a Journalist. I always thought that I was destined to be the next Connie Chung - when I was a child, she was the only female Asian-American role model that existed at the time. A common trait=relate. I get it when my Psychology of Race class required a whole hour session to explain the handicap effects of only white presidents surrounding the room. I really really get it.

Today, I'm the farthest thing from Connie Chung an Asian girl can be.

I was asking God to help me out the other day. To show me what on earth my purpose here is. What do I do now that I have some extra time on my hands. My "phasad" that I had to showcase this morning led me to Skyline college signing up for a late add to JOUR 120: Writing for the media. No FREAKING WAY...then the professor starts the class of with her other classes that she is adding more people in and the applications for the Newspaper crew for the "Skyline View."

Could it be? I am meant to write about something? anything? Am I really mean to write? and will people actually listen.

It starts out with me quitting my make-up job that I had forever, then getting hired for some freelance work on Complainary.com and viewpoints.com, and then all of a sudden I randomly walk into some still open - late add - Journalism classes at Skyline college?

It's almost like a big hot and cold voice. God's saying - Take a freaking hint, Mira!

I originally signed up for voice, humanities, and Spanish. I then dropped them all because the first day, John had a fever, making it impossible to get to class.  

Really, I expected to just hang out at Skyline today and drop a few meetmark catalogs and bolt.

Not at all what happened, in fact - the catalogs are still in my bag untouched and half forgotten.

Well, we'll see.

I could be reading all the signs wrong.

I could be totally just darn stupid.

I could be wasting my time, making it harder for myself, or jumping to way too many conclusions too soon.

Who knows? No one does.

But one things for sure in this little game of growing up:

No one escapes, and no one gets out alive.

So, I might as well keep trucking, and either keep making the same stupid mistakes getting no where, or finally make that single (or seven hundredth) decision that can get me closer to where I need to be.

Mira

 

Moving to Daly City with a luggage full of skeletons

Saturday morning and the weather couldn't be more perfect. It's January and somehow Daly City has managed to act like spring has already begun.
Eight years ago, when I first stepped foot in this city, I could hardly believe the fog, the cold, and the red windburn on my cheeks. The insulation in our room was terrible since their was a crack in the glass window that never was mended, or even had planned to be. We froze ourselves to sleep every night.

Today, the same time of year I had arrived eight years ago, there is hardly a cloud in sight. There is no fog, there is no windburn on my cheeks. The sun is out, the clouds are gone, and it just seems to be an infinite blue spread on the sky around me.
As I write this blog, on a Saturday morning in early January, global warming seems to be doing Daly City a big favor.

Daly City never was my ideal town. The thousands of weird filipinos, the ghetto shopping malls, the impolite strangers, the poverty, the greed. Middle class immigrant America.

But after my parents divorce, their unemployment, and an ugly never ending courtcase, my life at sixteen was the least bit priveleged.
Due to the circumstances, my parent's relied on our relatives to bring us back to America, so we could work, go to college through aid, and finally have the life that was meant for us.
The ongoing court case was that of my father and his mother (my grandmother) over the inhertance that my grandfather had left - including school ownership and many pieces of property. My father felt the desire to move us out from Los Angeles, when I was ten, to the Philippines to finalize the case. I remember those years as the most bittersweet of my life.
I gained some wonderful friends, but also went many nights with out dinner, learned what depression really was, and had to witness the weirdest and ugliest relationship develop between my mother and my cheating deadbeat dad which somehow crumbled my dreams and hopes of any chances of happiness for the rest of my life.

Skeletons in my closet. My dad sucks. and now that I am a parent - I still can't believe how much balls and "douchebag-ness" he had to just get up and leave me, my sister, and my mother. My mother, by the way, has her moments but she didn't deserve, nor is she the kind of person that deserved, what had happened to her.



In reality, I am a middle class immigrant American. Although, born and raised until I was eleven years in Los Angeles, Ca. I am very much aware and knowledgeable of the customs,culture, and language of traditional Phillipine life. Of course, mixed in forever with the California girl I always was I can't really blame any one else in this city for thinking that I may be a weird Filipino as well.

4:35 AM

Can you believe it? It's 4:30 in the morning and I'm wide awake. I haven't slept a wink. I'm not even a tad tired. And - I didn't even have any coffee today. Wow! Could I finally be under stimulated. To the point where, I'm no longer wishing some sweet sweet shut eye?

Let's not lie to myself. Mommy-hood still is deprives. I wish I was asleep right now. I also wish I knew exactly why I am awake at this very second.

I guess I just am. 

I started a brand spanking new brew of coffee, ate a avocoda-salmon bowl, and still my eyes lids don't feel the least bit heavy.

Maybe it's the prospect of things I need to do.

Maybe I'm just not as busy as I am used to, or once was.

Since quitting my job and resting - wrists, vacation, and all - I think that I may have gloriously somehow learned to pace myself, my energy. That somehow, I really have recuperated??

And now, due to these new things, this new recuperation -  I'm up. Back to the vicious cycle of all that is. 

I have no clue what to expect today now. What I'm gonna do, if I'm gonna conk out on public transpo, or just fall asleep altogether and pretend like daylight is night...

John has a dr,'s appt. and if I need to do one thing today - it should be taking him to his check up.

Hope it works out.

I forgot his Immunization Records in my mom's car, so I hope she can be a doll and stop by, on her way to work. I'm a do-do for waiting to figure that one out last minute.

 

Nothing too new here though really.

Some prospects and plans but nothing's been finalized.

I'm still struggling to stay veg. 

which I have failed at these last 3 days due to my father-in-law cooking dinner for all of us.

Meatloaf. :( 

Nothing more parallel to the anti-christ of a vegetarian diet than a sizzling, fatty, loaf of ground hamburger meat.

hotttt.

Anywho, I best be getting my first cup of joe.

I can smell the heavenly brews circulating in the kitchen - calling my name.

Imsomnia is now officially extended...

Mira