#throwback

 

bittersweet

bittersweet

January 8, 2015

I was going over my blogs from around 4 1/2 years ago– back when I was just starting to blog regularly, and yes, I hardly had any readers — and I chanced upon an entry entitled Flashbacks.

It was about a love story that did not find its happy ending.

The story happened some 20 years ago. I wrote this blog in 2010. Apologies for reposting, but do indulge me. Let’s just call this the #throwbackthursday entry.

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Flashbacks

Sometimes i can’t help but marvel at how modern technology just made everything easier– and the world much smaller — for us.

About 16 years ago, I had a relationship with this guy who lives at the other side of the world.  He came here for a vacation… and found me, instead.  The irony is, we met a month before he was supposed to go back to his homeland and we started dating a week before his departure.  So obviously, ours ended up being a long distance relationship. We were so in love then and we promised that we would make it work, distance or no distance.

It was 1994 and we still had to depend on snail mail.  Snail mail and Fedex.  Every two weeks, we would expect a letter or a package waiting at our respective doorsteps.  We spent a fortune at long distance calls, too.  We would talk on the phone every weekend for about an hour (sometimes, two).  This went on for six months (which at that time seemed like an eternity).  Then he flew back here for Christmas, stayed here for a couple of months, then went back home with the promise that we will make the long distance relationship last…

… and then he was gone.  Gone forever.

No, he did not die or anything.  We just proved that long distance relationships, well, never really go the distance (pardon the pun, please).  We pretty much showed everybody that no matter how “in love” two people are, the distance between them can really take its toll.  I think it took all of three months after he left the second time when we came to the realization that it was difficult.  Actually, he came to that realization first (and was too immature not to tell me)… ergo, the relationship basically ended badly — with me cursing him to high heavens, that is.  So basically, he could have just died and i wouldn’t have minded at that time (that was me being mature about the break up).

But i digress.  Point is, fast forward 16 years later, present day 2010… Because of the world wide web, because of YM, emails, facebook, webcams, text messages and cellphone calls that don’t cost a fortune,  we are now in touch with people who are at the other side of the world.  My best friend/person lives at the other side of the world, too, and I chat with her almost every day.  My friends and relatives who are in countries of different time zones are always updated about the news and happenings here.  In real time.  It’s a small world, after all.

Sometimes I do wonder whether my relationship with the guy would have lasted if we had all these communication tools then.  Maybe we wouldn’t have felt the distance right away.  Perhaps it wouldn’t have felt like we were having an affair with a piece of paper.  Though it would probably be like having a virtual relationship (or having a relationship with the computer), well at least the other party answers back fast… no need to wait for two weeks.

But then long distance is still long distance.  It’s still upto the people involved whether they will let the distance get in the way… or work on the relationship until they are together once more.

In case you are wondering what happened to long distance-guy… Well, we found each other in facebook a couple of years ago.  Yeah, who would have thought.  But then 16years is a long time, and people change.  I guess you pretty much have an idea how it went…

It went nowhere. 

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It’s Mr. 1994’s birthday tomorrow, January 9. Yes, I still remember 🙂

*****

Photo via yahoo images

Age is JUST a number

I say I'm 27. Seriously.

I say I’m 27. Seriously.

When I was young(er), I used to think that people who were in their 30’s or 40’s were already old.

I grew up in the generation where the young ones realize and acknowledge the authority of elders, may they be parents, aunts or uncles, or parents’ friends.  As a teenager, I was close to my aunts, we tell stories and we laugh a lot, but never did I see them as my equal.  They were always “up there.”  They were older and I gave them all the respect that they deserved.  Though honestly, there were times when I didn’t want to hang out with them because it felt “uncool” hanging out with older people…

I was never really close to my mom when I was growing up because she was more of a figure of authority than anything else.  I followed and obeyed.  I never saw her as a “friend.”  Provider, yes.  Parent, yes.  But, buddy? Chum? Friend?!  As Tyra Banks would have said it, “Hell to the no!”

Besides, the age gap made it difficult for me to see her differently.  My parents — and their siblings — will always be older.  When I was a teenager, I had this thinking that they were already ancient.  Gosh.

I am in my late thirties now.  To be more precise, I am pushing forty.  Just saying that is making my heart palpitate.  In my young self’s eyes, I AM ANCIENT!  Panic time.  Gulp.  I. can’t. breathe. too. well. 

Thinking about it, I don’t feel too different.  I mean, I feel like I’m the same ME that I was as a teenager.  I have the same friends…  I dislike the same people (oh, grow up, girl!)…  I still like the colors pink and purple and all shades of violet…  I still like the same kind of music — or at least, I still DON’T like the heavy metal kind (gives me headaches), while classical music still makes me sleep…  I am still conscious of my weight — like I have been when I was infact 20lbs lighter… I still think my arms and thighs are big…

So, maybe I have matured a bit.  Maybe I look at life differently now, meaning I am not after the drama anymore.  I don’t get stressed easily now… though come to think of it, I was never really the ‘easily-stressed’  type.  I know for a fact that my personal experiences, both good and bad, have shaped me into who I am today… But somehow, for some reason, I still FEEL like I am the same person — same girl– that I was years back.  Twenty or so years back, to be precise.

I don’t really feel old.  Or ancient.  I am in my late thirties, but I feel young. I am the same Me that I have always been.

Now I realize that 30 or 40 is NOT old or ancient.  Gosh, I’m taking back the perception I had of my aunts when I was young.  I am there now… and I wouldn’t want my son or my son’s friends to think that I am not cool because I an older.

Age is JUST a number.  It’s who you are inside that truly matters in the end.

Uhm, can you please remind me of all these before I actually turn forty…  In case, you know, I start panicking and begin having my midlife crisis…  Sigh…

Maybe it’s about time that I accept — and admit– my real age.

***** ***** ******

photo via google images

Mr. Ken Doll

Ken needs a Supergoddess Barbie

Ken needs a Supergoddess Barbie

He was a male model… He did tv commercials, but he mostly did ramp.  He was goodlooking — in a boyish way.  He was tall, he had this really dazzling smile… and a really hot bod.  He was like a Ken doll.

He was a good friend of a boyfriend.  Boyfriend used to do some modelling as well, so naturally he hang out with fellow models.  That was how I met Mr. Ken doll.

When boyfriend left the country, I stayed in touch with some of his friends.   When boyfriend eventually became an ex, Mr. Ken doll expressed interest in dating me… but didn’t really know if it was the right thing to do since I was the girlfriend of a good friend.  It didn’t seem right.  It was like crossing a boundary.

We did go out several times.  We talked a lot.  We laughed.  We flirted.  We watched basketball games together.  We talked about our favorites — his was carrot cake, mine was coffee.  We had a good time.

I liked being seen with him because he was a Ken doll… and I felt like I was Barbie.  I was living very girl’s dream.  I was every girl’s source of envy.

Going out with Ken made me forget about the heartbreak caused by long-distance boyfriend.  I thought being with another goodlooking guy will fill the void left by an ex.  In a way, it did.  It did make me forget… but only for a short while.

Somehow the thrill of being with Ken was fleeting.

One night, I just suddenly realized that Ken and I didn’t have anything in common.  I tried to dig deep to feel something towards him… some love or deep affection… yet I didn’t find any.  There was fondness, yes, but that was just it.  Nothing more.

Perhaps the only connection we truly had was the memory of my ex-boyfriend… his ex-friend.

We parted ways amicably.  No tears, no drama.  I never wondered what “could have been” because I knew Ken and I weren’t meant to be.

What I learned from the whole Ken experience is this:  You really cannot force yourself to love — or even just like, LIKE — someone if your heart isn’t there.  You cannot force yourself to feel a certain way towards someone.  Or even if you do try, in your heart of hearts, you would know that you’re not fooling anybody else but yourself.

Kissing Ken may have been fun, but it didn’t make me his Barbie.  He didn’t turn out to be my Prince Charming, too.  Good thing we were both mature enough not to pretend we were something we weren’t.

Some things are really just not meant to be.

It’s Ken’s birthday today.  And his real name’s Ron.

*** *** *** *** ***

photo via google images

 

 

Dreaming of Rome

Love. Rome. Josh.

Love. Rome. Josh.

I had the chance to sit in front of the tv this morning — and actually watch a movie.   I ended up watching “When in Rome”  a movie that starred Kristen Bell and Josh Duhamel.

Sometimes I feel like I’m too old to watch chick flicks.  I mean being a mom, as well as being someone’s partner, somehow make me feel embarrassed to gush over fairy tale movies and Prince Charmings (…but come on, how can one NOT gush over Josh Duhamel?).  It just didn’t seem right.  It seemed pretty juvenile.

But there I was at nine o’clock in the morning watching a funny love story that made me wish that I can go to Rome anytime soon… and that all love stories are magical and stay magical… and that I can have a magical love story with Josh Duhamel. 

An hour and a half later, realization struck… I am not going to Rome anytime soon… love stories may start magical yet they don’t always stay that way… and bummer of all bummers, Josh already has Fergie.   My reality is simply just not as exciting.  No wonder I don’t like watching chick flicks!

I had to check myself before I got totally depressed about the whole thing.  This normally happens whenever I watch feel good movies… I end up not feeling good about where I am.

And then the wise and sensible ME took over.  Sure, I may not be going to Rome anytime soon… but that doesn’t mean I can’t go to Rome in this lifetime.  I have always wanted to see Italy… I wanted to see not just Rome, but Venice and Tuscany, as well.  I will include that trip in my bucket list.  No need to feel bad about something that I can do something about (even if it means having some major saving up to do to be able to go on that trip!)

Okay, so maybe not all love stories have fairy tale endings.  Maybe I have lost that magical feeling  somewhere between balancing checkbooks and washing the dishes.  Maybe the day to day, mundane activities have squeezed all the magic out of me.  Yet that doesn’t mean I cannot anymore be the sweet, loving person that I was  when I was much, much younger.  I may have gotten older,  but I’m not ancient… I still am capable of expressing my emotions.  Though at times I may seem to be functioning on auto-pilot, I can still easily snap out of it if I do want to.

The thing is, real life is NOT always magical.  We have to work for it if we want to sustain that magic.  And I truly believe that when you work for something, all the more you will not let that thing dissipate just like that.  You take more care of what you have invested time, effort and love in, than things — or people– you never shared anything of yourself with.

Fairy tale endings?  Well, as long as we are on this earth, we can direct our paths to that fairy tale ending that we all long for.  Hope springs eternal.

A few hours of movie watching do take us away from our realities, even for sometime.  It can be nice… can even give you a fresh perspective on things.  But at the end of the day, real life is still more interesting… more exciting…

Because in your reality, you are the lead… always.  And you can choose your happy ending… always.

PS… Okay, so maybe I won’t have a fairy tale ending or a magical anything with Josh Duhamel in this lifetime. But in the movie version of MY life, he will definitely play a part.   

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photo via google images, When in Rome (2010)

Butterflies in my stomach… A Love Story

mr. ballplayer

my mr. ballplayer

He was a college basketball superstar.  Such a dreamboat.  He didn’t know me then, but I used to watch his games and pine for him.  Although we were batchmates, we were never introduced.  My young self was “loving” him from afar. 

Being Mr. Popular, I knew he wouldn’t really notice me.  Not when a lot of other girls are fawning over him.  I was but one of his fans.

We  were (finally) introduced several months after we graduated.  I was already working then and I guess the ‘corporate’  look made him notice me more.  I was no longer an immature ‘nameless fan.’     I became someone interesting enough to date.

He was a sweet guy.  His college basketball superstar status made people believe that he was unreachable, difficult to talk to… yet he really wasn’t.  He was pretty down to earth.  But given his appeal, I knew that a lot of other girls are dying to date him — much like I was back in college.  And so I also knew that whatever we had wouldn’t last.

I was so young then.  I wasn’t looking for a serious relationship.  I knew that if my heart was to be broken, it might as well be by someone I insanely liked. 

At that moment in time I knew he liked me back.

Little things made me feel special… Like that time when he came over to my place unannounced at ten pm, after a basketball game (he was already playing in an amateur league).  When I asked why, the only reason he could think of was that — he wanted to see me, and that he just kept driving ’til he got to my house… And then there was a time when we were waiting for a movie to begin, and he started singing “It Might be You” to my ear…  After dropping me off after a date, he would call me the moment he gets home and we would still talk on the phone until the wee hours of the morning… Sometimes we talked a lot about different things, at times we just stared at each other.

Seeing him always gave me the butterflies in the stomach sensation. 

On our last date, I distinctly remember his parting words.  As I was going down the car, he reached for my hand and said,  “I will call you.”

Several days passed, and I didn’t hear from him.  Days turned to weeks, weeks to months… still no word, no nothing.  No explanation.  He just disappeared.  I knew it was over. 

I was heartbroken, yes, but I pretty much expected that to happen so it didn’t hurt that long.

Several months later, I went to one of his ball games and he saw me.  We got to talk somewhat and we planned on seeing each other again the following day.  Maybe to iron things out, maybe to just plain hang out.   

I was staying at a friend’s house that night, and he said he will pick me up in the morning before he goes to training.  He said he was looking forward to spending the morning with me.

Something happened the following morning.  I had to leave really early, and since cellphones were still unheard of at that time,  contacting him proved to be so difficult.  Plus, I didn’t know that the previous night, when he asked for my friend’s home number, I managed to give him a wrong one.

We were finally able to talk again that afternoon when he got home from training.  He told me that he was looking for me the whole morning until he realized that I just led him on.  He said I did it on purpose to get back at him.

I can still remember the hurt and disappointment in his voice.  Mr. Player got played.  By me.

***

I never saw nor heard from him since.  Funny because I woke up this morning remembering that it’s his birthday today.

Although at that time, part of me was glad that it ended that way (he broke my heart, after all),  it’s not something that I am particularly proud of.  And sometimes there are people whom you would rather remember for the good moments that you shared together.  Memories that you know you will always preserve somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind.

Now, 18 years later, I do not dwell on the sour ending that we had.  Obviously we were not meant to end up together. 

But I do remember the butterflies.  And it’s enough to make me smile. 

 

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photos via weheartit.com 

Can You Keep a Secret?

Somewhere over the rainbow...

Almost two years ago, I created this blog to further develop my writing abilities.  Writing has always been a passion, but since I didn’t have a regular writing job, I felt I needed an avenue… a place where I can express my thoughts and views.  Blogworld was a good place for that.

And so I created Supergoddess Me… I wrote at first for myself, then eventually for blogfriends from all around the world.

I met people in the cyberworld… I made some readers laugh, probably even inspired others.  I shared bits and pieces of who I am to my readers (from all around the world.  I just HAD to repeat that because it sounded nice!).  But I never really gave away my true identity.  Partly because in a way I was protecting myself  ( hey, if you’re a regular, you would have heard me vent… and it ain’t always nice!).  Maybe at the same time I was protecting the people (real ones) closest to me. 

This is like my alternate universe.  Only a handful of my friends know about this site — let alone, read it.  And so I can rant and rave all I want without the people I know hearing about it (haha, pure evil!).  Nor am I judged or criticized by people I know who are not exactly my friends but who just enjoy criticizing other people for the heck of it (because they are evil, too!). 

These past several months I went through a lot of experiences that I would love to share or write about.  However I realized that it’s quite difficult talking about “real life” when you’re hiding behind a character.  For some reason I came to the realization that I cannot share my ordinary everydays if I’m writing as Supergoddess Me.  And boy, do I have a lot of ordinary everydays to share!

Basically, what I am trying to say is this… I’M MOVING!!!  I’m moving to another blogsite. 

But don’t feel bad (if you do feel bad, that is!).  Every once in a while I will drop by and visit, and maybe write something — or do more venting– here.   And it’s not as if I’m going to leave my blogfriends out in the cold.  I’ m bringing you guys along!

My dear friends in blog universe, follow me as I write some more, this time in another address.  Out there I will be writing as myself (I’m dropping the Super from the Goddess. Dig that!).  I will still be the same nutty writer that I am — with less venting, of course… But I believe that out there you will get to know the real ME better. 

You are all invited!    Check me out at www.adailydoseofbetsy.wordpress.com (Life as it Happens).  And join me in my journey — as my real life happens.

*** *** *** ***

But this is not exactly goodbye.  I might drop in every once in a while and share something here.   Besides, my new friends out there don’t know about this site (you are directed there, yet they are NOT directed here)… so basically we’re still sharing a secret.  Can you keep a secret?

Signing off for now… Supergoddess Me.

******

photo via weheartit.com

 

 

Celebrating Beauty

I wasn’t feeling too well the other day so I decided to stay in. 

After months and months of preparation for the July tournament, I thought of giving myself a break by not doing anything baseball related.  I rewarded myself with some tv time.  And yes, what a treat it was!  I haven’t watched tv in a while and staying glued in front of the tv for a couple of hours was a welcome break for me… Though given that I was sick, it proved quite hard to stay awake. 

Runway Legends All

I HAD to stay awake, though because I chanced upon a really interesting Oprah episode that day.  It was the episode Legends of the Runway, where the guests were former supermodels like Christie Brinkley, Cheryl Tiegs and Stephanie Seymour.  There was a segment with Paulina Porizkova, another legend in the modeling industry. 

It was an episode about beauty.  It was about staying beautiful.  Moreso, it was an episode about ageing gracefully.  I knew I had to stay awake.

*** *** ***

Last week I saw a picture of myself that was taken about 5 years ago.  I stared at it for sometime, as if I was looking at a picture of a total stranger.  And the more I stared at it, the more I started thinking that I don’t look like the girl on the picture anymore.  Okay, maybe I still look like her, but I feel like I have aged somewhat.  I look older now.

Mirror, mirror on the wall...

Staring at myself in the mirror has always been a past time for me.  (So, I am vain… that’s a given.  We have already long established that.)  However, these past several months, whenever I look at my reflection in the mirror, I always catch myself putting my fingers on my cheekbones — and trying to stretch my facial skin higher, towards the upper ends of my ears.  It’s either that or stretching the skin under my jawbone, towards the lower ends of my ears.

It’s something that I used to watch my mom do when I was a little girl — and for the life of me I couldn’t understand why she kept doing that.  Now I’M the one doing it.  Now I’m the one who’s starting to feel paranoid about what gravity is doing to my facial muscles…

All of a sudden I feel old.  All of a sudden I am no longer confident that the facial creams and moisturizer that I religiously slather on my face actually work.  My skin is not as elastic as it used to be. 

Looking old scares me.  Not only does it scare me, it also makes me sad.  Somehow, the pull of gravity is also working on my self-esteem.

*** *** ***

I knew I would learn something the moment I saw the former supermodels onscreen with Oprah.  (Just an aside, maybe it’s incorrect to call them former supermodels because in my book, once a supermodel, always a supermodel.  So scratch the former out.)

They came out one by one.  All still very beautiful.  They all look fit, too.  But somehow, one thing was evident… they also aged, as well.  They are no longer the 20-something naive looking pin-up girls.  They are not stick thin.  They have womanly curves.  There’s a certain roundness in their figures… something that is most likely brought about by motherhood.  And they have lines on their faces, too! 

Perfect

I was staring at Stephanie Seymour, and can’t but think that about a decade ago, I wanted to look like her because the guy I was dating then adored her.  She practically was the reason behind the how and the why of my love affair with Victoria’s Secret. 

And now as I looked at her — still pretty, but with facial lines, body curves and all, she looked almost ordinary.  Okay, maybe not ordinary, but normal.

And then the realization… they are human beings, after all.  Supermodel or not, we are all bound to get old… or older. 

*** *** ***

I think the only way we can defy ageing is if we cryogenically preserve our bodies while we’re in our twenties (and then what?!).  Or yes, there’s always botox or face lifts… but then for how long?  And how many times ’til you realize that you don’t look like yourself anymore — not because you look younger, but because your skin has been stretched so hard that you can’t even show any sign of emotion.  There’s quite a thin line between looking young and looking like your face is in a serious state of catatonic stupor.

Yes, even supermodels cannot defy gravity.

*** *** ***

Dream job. Dream body.

Watching them — the supermodels that they are, candidly talking about their outlook on ageing, I couldn’t help but get awed all the more.  These beautiful women have been beautiful all their lives… but they are not as young as they used to be.  For sure they have experienced being compared to the younger models.  They belong to a cruel industry where beauty  is defined by age.  And yet they stood proud.  They are proud of their accomplishments, proud of what they have become. 

Truly admirable. 

These supermodels were unanimous in saying that true beauty emanates from within.  It’s about how you perceive yourself. It’s about finding joy and peace and acceptance.  It’s also about not just banking on your looks alone, but being able to carry a conversation with other people.

Basically, being beautiful involves loving oneself and being happy with who you are.  As one of them — I think it was Paulina Porizkova in her interview segment — reiterates, ‘if one’s self-worth is hinged on one’s looks alone, then that person has a problem…’

I learned something valuable that day.

proud to be Supermodel Me

 

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photos via weheartit.com and yahoo images