Hypocrisy

Wilted flower

Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is ~Voltaire

This is the last post about Gen Y, thank goodness. The episode had finally ended with a long overdue phone call. Gen Y would avoid a phone conversation like plague with every lame excuse, so all communication had been via msn. Hey, who could best the all time excuse with "mom is around, so I can't talk"?

As per my earlier post of the suspected dyslexia Gen Y was afflicted, nothing meaningful could get across via msn. What's worse, Gen Y would evade any question or embarrassing and awkward moment with an icon. It's simply maddening.

In order to clarify things, a phone call was in order. With no icon to hide beneath, you could hear the fidgeting and the unease when Gen Y was asked a direct question. Gen Y reacted by ranting off in a speech so fast you could only catch snippets of it, with the sole aim to diffuse the question and hang up as quickly as possible.

As it was not possible to avoid confrontation, Gen Y began to say things that were downright selfish, irresponsible and hurtful. You could hear all the defensive mechanisms roaring at full capacity. Out of weaponry, Gen Y finally resorted to projection. Your fall from grace, in his eyes, was caused by you exposing his hypocrisy.

If you could only be contented with Gen Y hiding behind an icon, then it would not be necessary to end everything. Your phone call had unmasked the real feelings and attitude. Remember, it's all your fault. Right.

photo
http://www2.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/6255026/2/istockphoto_6255026-wilted-flower-in-vase.jpg

Quatre Saisons

I read an article a while back that some people suffer from seasonal mood disorders. Usually it's winter because sunlight is less and it makes people depressed. I, on the other hand have summer blues. I languish in summers. I hate the heat, the humidity, the sweat. Worst of all is the blinding light, it never fails to give me a migraine. I have taken my fair share of painkillers this summer.

It's been getting hotter every year. Yes, I think it's the effect of global warming. To keep the heat out, I have all the blinds down during the day. This year it is so hot that even with the air conditioning on, it's at most "warm", not cool in the house. I can just jump back into the shower after drying my hair because I would be sweating already. I hate summers.

I have always loved autumns. I believe special things happen when the brisk, dry air arrives. I hope come September, summer will be officially over. Listening to Vivaldi's Four Seasons again, autumn is still my favorite.

photo
http://www.digiskill.com/images/fralubiz/bkgd/autumn-leaf-tile.jpg

Grief

Couple days ago, I took Porky for a waddle to the supermarket. When we reached the door, I put him in his travelling bag, since dogs were not allowed inside. With my shopping list in hand, I walked up and down the aisles to pick up what I needed.

When I turned the corner, I bumped into a lady who used to work at my dad's company for almost 30 years. We started to chat and she pointed to a wiggling bag in the shopping cart and I told her it was my pig. I asked her how she was and tears started to well in her eyes. I knew I had asked the wrong question, again....

The lady joined another company nine years ago. This company was filled with familiar faces from my dad's extinct company and I always visited them at lunch time. Aside from the free meal, there were always funny stories about the old times.

Four years ago, I received a call from my aunt in the morning. She told me that this lady had flown to the States to see her daughter. Okay, but this did not warrant a call at 7am. My aunt then told me that the daughter had a car accident and was in surgery as we speak. She thought that I would like to know, since the lady was my mentor in a lot of ways.

Then the bad news came bit by bit. The daughter went skiing with a bunch of friends. She forgot something in the trunk and asked her friends to go ahead. When she reached the rear of the car and opened the trunk, a car nearby skidded. The driver had lost control of the car but finally managed to stop, trapping the daughter, sandwiched between two cars.

When the lady reached the hospital, her daughter was already gone. Her injuries were too extensive and the doctors could not stop the internal bleeding. The lady was devastated and in shock. How could this happen when her daughter was engaged to be married and only 27 years old? All this time, the lady berated herself and grieved.

She said she was still in a trance when she attended her daughter's funeral. The turnout was massive. The whole church was filled with people she didn't know. Not only was her daughter a Christian, she was also active in a lot of church activities and charity. She asked everyone, especially herself, "why had God taken such a good child away?"

I went to visit her after she came back. I could not believe my eyes, her black hair had turned pepper grey. Our greetings were truncated because she would choke up when she speak. I still visit at lunch time, but it's a hushed one now. Gone was the lively conversation. The lady would pick up her lunch box and take it to her room. The rest of us would sit in the pantry and eat in silence or with minimal conversation.

That day at the supermarket, she told me the most important thing was to be happy, because life was too short. She reminded me to live with as little regret as possible, because life was too unpredictable. She kept saying she would do anything to have her daughter back...

Her routine was to take a walk to the supermarket after dinner every evening. Life still had to go on. Her hair was almost white now.

photo
(http://www.erinjohnsonphoto.com/blog/uploaded_images/IMG_1274-771281.JPG)

Lost

Last week, I had the harrowing experience of almost losing Camille. The fact that she's here to wreck havoc to my laptop meant she wasn't lost. I was expecting a delivery and knowing how nervous Camille was with strangers, noise or anything that's not familiar, I made an appointment with the pet groomer a week earlier, so the kids could be safely out of the house when the delivery guys came.

When I took the travelling bag out that morning, Camille went into hiding. After futile attempts to coax her out, I decided to bring Ashley and Porky first. She was nowhere to be found when I came back. I was getting antsy because the delivery would be here soon. I called and called, but there was no sight of her. I sensed trouble already.

It turned out that she was hiding under my bed. When she knew she was found, she shot out. The door was ajar because the guys had to move the old bed out. I thought she ran out of the house. After the delivery guys left, I went in search of her, in the house, the building, the neighborhood. Not a glimpse. No one had seen her.

I went to pick up Ashley and Porky from the groomer's and told the lady that should somebody bring Camille in, to please give me a ring. I came back exhausted. I was sure that I had lost her. It was approaching 6pm and getting dark. I got more worried by the minute. The noise from the renovation upstairs and the roadside had died down and the silence made it more foreboding that something bad had happened to her.

I got up and went into the bathroom to freshen up. When I came out, lo and behold, there she was. Camille had appeared from nowhere and somewhere. I was so relieved I called up my friend, who had prayed with me five minutes earlier. Our prayer was if God saw fit that Camille should stay with me, to please bring her back. I had done my best to find her and I'll leave it in His hands. Here she was, a miracle.

Sometimes, I wished I had never adopted Camille. She was hyper in every way and scared of everything. However, my overwhelming thoughts when she went missing was how scared she would be. I wanted her to come back because I wanted her to know that she was not orphaned anymore. She had found a permanent home with us.

I still yell at her when she knocks over things, scratches the sofa, among other things. Despite being a menace, I am happy she's home. God works in mysterious ways.

(photo http://santafeworkshops.com/newsletter/AnselAdams_Dogwoodwe.jpg)

Empathy

I have never been so furious with my kids, ever. This morning I heard a dull thud and I knew it's one of the cats, most likely Camille, who had done something. I didn't have my contacts or glasses on, but holding Porky in my arms, I ventured out of bed in a daze to check out what the mayhem was this time. It turned out to be my laptop.

From the mangled mouse usb and the portal in my laptop, the evidence clearly pointed to Camille toying with the wire attaching the mouse and pulled the laptop down. It was 6:30am. I fed Dayee and proceeded to check if the laptop still worked. It did. Fine, I was still hung over with my sleeping pill, so I grabbed Porky and went back to sleep.

When I woke up, I turned on the laptop. So far so good, until I plugged in a memory stick. The screen went black. I checked the power, disconnected and reconnected all the plugs. Nothing, zilch. That's when I cracked. I was screaming at Camille and finally cornered her in the bathroom behind the laundry basket. I closed the bathroom door and she knew she was in trouble. Boy, I was yelling and screaming at her and I really wanted her to vanish, to go away.

I wanted to cry. Since Merlyn left, I had been telling myself that it's a transition period for the kids and me. I understood that Camille was attached to Merlyn and the fact that she couldn't find her was nerve wrecking for her.

She broke every picture frame in the house. I was hopping mad, especially the first one she broke was a photo of Kobe and me. I was so glad that though the glass was broken, the photo was intact. The next few nights, she proceeded to break the others. At this point, I didn't even care. It's not like these things were not replaceable, but my sanity was irreplaceable.

The only 2 people who understood the stress and why I snapped was a friend who's taking care of her 17 year old doggie and my shrink. He was surprised I held everything together for over a month and except for telling him that I was tired, my mood was okay. He proceeded to tell me that I was one tough cookie. Having a sleeping pill hangover every day would drive a lot of people crazy. That's when I cried. Thank God somebody understood.

As for my friend taking care of her doggie, we agreed that we were the only 2 people who understood our particular situation at this moment. We don't need advice, lecture nor solution. She could have euthanized her doggie and I could have given Camille away. If we could do it, we would have already. Hey, it's a life we're talking right here. I just pray Camille would calm down soon. Giving her away was not an option. Despite all this, she did not deserve to be orphaned again.

Out of all this, it dawned on me that the people you thought would understand you best would be capable of empathy. Fat chance.

(photo http://kuncoro.co.uk/uploads/raining.jpg)

Minding One's Business

A couple weeks ago, I had an early dinner at my favorite haunt, the Corner cafe. I had Porky with me, so we had to sit outside in the sweltering heat for the entire meal.

A few days later, I went down for a coffee and a puff. We were the only table and our waitress also sat down for a puff and we chatted on.

She said, "Remember the other evening you were here with Porky and we talked and laughed as always? I was feeding Porky bits of bread and you were saying how great the sole dish was. You completely ignored the person sitting opposite you as if that person did not exist!"

I laughed right out and told her I ignored that person on purpose. I thought that my being so rude would cue that person into taking off and leaving me to take my supper in peace. For some unfathomable reason, that person stuck around and watched me eat, without ordering anything.

That person made remarks about me and my life that irritated and irked me, which I thought were out of bounds and downright rude. This person was just an acquaintance. At first I really wanted to defend my lifestyle choices, but I decided against it.

An acquaintance is merely that, an acquaintance. The conversation should stay in the area of "Hi, bye" and "How do you do?". The decorum calls for just being polite. This person has really overstepped the boundaries. Too bad that person did not take any hints to shut up or go.

After paying the bill, I finally had to say, "I assume you have something else to do, so I'll say goodbye." I do not agree with some of that person's life choices, but as an acquaintance, it's not proper to blurt them out. I think that one should really mind one's own business before going out making a fool of themselves.

Studio White Renaissance

Original Studio White

A series of unexpected things happened since the inception of Studio White back in September 2008. We had to move in May 2009 to a new business center, which never felt like home. The short term lease for the studio just ended on July 31st. Everything that once was Studio White was moved home or into storage.

Things were not going smooth at the studio and my constant thoughts were to end the whole project end of July. There were ongoing conversations of how to keep a virtual studio, since keeping an actual studio was not cost effective.

The silver lining came in the guise of a pre-wedding shoot that saved the studio's graces. The bride was really happy with the makeup, hair and the posy, and it renewed hopes that the endeavour was not a lost cause.

I had completely ditched the idea of going into wedding planning. There's just too much competition. The idea of having to book venues, cars, gowns, schedule all the activities was mind-boggling and things I absolutely did not want to get involved in. I did not want to be a coordinator and orchestrate a wedding. I could visualize the accompanied stress already.

I admit not thinking through the whole business model of Studio White was a fatal error. Be that as it may, we had an ongoing ad campaign on a popular local wedding website and Studio White had created some noise.

After a lot of thoughts, Studio White would continue as a virtual studio, providing only two kinds of services, makeup and flowers. It was such a waste to have decorated the studio and had to move. It was more of a waste to have created Studio White and had to erase all the effort and work with it because of a bad business decision.

I am happy to announce that Studio White is still very much alive. Forgone was the partnership. We will fly solo in our own endeavours, but will come together as the occasion arises. It was a lesson well learnt.