The 20th floor button.

Easy. This is not a horror story. hehe

 This is what I should’ve worked on first thing when I set this blog up. This should have been the first entry. This made my hand itch to write again. So here it goes.

If you have noticed, the title I chose is not about the 20^th floor itself, it’s about the elevator button. This is plainly because I haven’t been to that floor myself. (Except that I experience being in the 20^th floor when someone goes in or off the elevator, of course)

 However, I have seen the tenants of the 20^th floor. In fact, I see them every day, I don’t figuratively rub elbows with them but literally, it happens a lot. It’s not the same with other people, but with them, it’s always different.

Our unit is on the 22^nd floor of a beat up, high rise commercial building somewhere in Ortigas, Pasig. There are 33 floors all in all. Most units are occupied by ESL teaching offices, some, probably by other commercial establishments, and one, by a school with very adorable students.

They are the children of the 20^th floor. And they are somewhat different, a little more special. Our society calls them “special children.”

They are very sweet and energetic. They make our (building tenants) elevator rides a little more bearable. (Our elevator is sordid, worn out and unreliable) Some kids sing, some dance; others just goof around and play the elevator guy role sometimes. So cute!

Once while inside the elevator, there was this kid who resembles the famous cartoon character” Shin Chan “. He was slightly pressing his foot onto one of mine while anticipating his father’s reaction.  His father called him off and told him he was misbehaving. The little boy started crying and so his dad pulled him up and into his arms. The little boy started giggling with victory for we fell for his little gag. I giggled a little too. In my peripheral vision, I saw his dad doing the same. The kid smiled at me as if we were long-time friends. I wish we were.

These children have something in them most of us lack. They are sweet, sincere, and they’re very generous in sharing their smiles. I know one personally, He’s 21 years old and he is one of our Church Priest’s assistant. He does his job so well you would think he’s just as mature as the other guys his age. He is also an elementary school principal’s son. During weekdays you can spot him on the school ground playing with kids as if he were just their age. The thing is he just doesn’t just play with them; he looks after the kids and makes sure the herd won’t flee from the fence. I know because my sister studies there.

The next time you bump into one of those cuties anywhere, never forget to smile because more often than not, they will smile back and it will make your day for sure. 

Kids CAN'T tell (LGBT and the media)

With the recent legalization of what were then tagged as taboos, I couldn’t help but look at freedom again as a puppet of chaos alluring and inviting in bright and blinding colors. Everyone has something to say and even kids are brought and/or dragged to events that are unruly and complicated in nature. (Sigh)

God and the bible are already involved so you can say that things are getting pretty serious. It’s summer-hot out there the word “burn” has never been as battered as it is right now.

I adhere to one idea on my part: not everything can be permitted in this world. We can but we’re only inviting speedy obliteration in general. I have this pesky feeling that the world is surely nearing its finish line; I’ve been shaking it off and I think I succeeded in the sense of getting rid of that feeling. From just a feeling it has now evolved into a theory, I hope it stops right here.

I have nothing against people coming out and displaying affection on public but I am bothered by the thought of children audiences who have not developed a good sense of understanding yet. Give them time to learn things. If delicate things are to be accepted, let them (kids) learn the basics first. They need a strong foundation of knowledge, experiences and understanding for them to take it all in.

Please, do not ask them to stand for something they do not fully understand. Do not take them out on the streets to wave flags. If they want to, let them when they’re old enough. Kids can’t tell which is which yet. Kids can’t tell. Yet. Spare them.

Let us not rush things, women waited for a number of years before they were granted privileges and until now they’re still proving their worth.

With the social media being more powerful than ever, everything exposed to the public is on a certain degree a “promotion” to the naïve minds.  I hope that the people behind giant TV networks will care more for the kids than money because it was possible back then. Let kids talk about “kids’ stuff” and let adults have their own thing to chat about.

Promote patience and perseverance. Promote values on top of everything else. 

Hang on, tears

Picked my flats off to brave the gusty dawn

It’s a gift in this road I’m the only spawn

Hurry feet, look, the dam is almost full

In a snap I would look like a total fool

In a daze and I am almost desperate

From my heart please let me separate

My tears and my footsteps are in a race

I won’t tell you the story through my face

Hold on tears, I will just unlock the door

Once inside, you may fall on the floor

Will you be kind enough just to hide with me?

I was hoping that is how it is gonna be

I’ll dress up and you may stop falling all at once

I gave in, and you just had your one chance

I will summon thee once things start to fall apart

Right now, you and I must start to depart. 

I don't like my body.

No, I don’t like my body.

I’m fat. Others (try to) take pride in this, I don’t. I could’ve done better than abusing my body and neglecting it out of glutton and laziness. I’m not shoving this on the faces of those who are just like me. This is just how I feel. There’s nothing to be proud about a body that limits me in so many facets.

No, I’m not into body shaming. However, I strongly believe in the power of true words. I can no longer tie my shoe laces nor clean my toes without feeling like I just did something so arduous. In the past, I could walk at a great distance but now doing so takes so much energy. I’m tied to my bed because moving so much is way too uncomfortable.

I don’t want to get used to this just so I would try to embrace a new bod. I would never embrace a body that kills my potential to its tiniest. I tried to jog for at least an hour sometime this past May but it only lasted for 5 pathetic days. Something happened that took my mornings and since I work from the afternoon and reach home shortly before midnight, I was left dead tired through the day.

I missed jogging. It took me loads of efforts to get up that particular week. My mornings were torn between getting up and staying in heaven once I hear the alarm ring. For a month, I stayed in my heavenly bed and hoped that my dream would stay awake the next day, but it didn’t until one crazy morning. I just got up, washed up, put my sporty clothing on and went off.

It was hard at first, hell; walking alone is already wearing me out. I had labored breathing and I felt like passing out.  I decided it’s best if I start on a slower pace. I expected I’d be exhausted when I reported to the office the same afternoon but what happened was just the exact opposite. That has been my most energetic day in three years! The succeeding days were a breeze. It made me feel alive once again.

It’s been months and I’m a bigger snowball now. Winter just doesn’t stop and I’m lifeless as always. I don’t like my body. I’m going to say it repeatedly because this is a problem and I need to acknowledge it. It’s just like an attitude, you don’t go bragging about how imperfect you are just because you feel that it’s who you are. That’s not what you are. That’s a part of you. No. That’s “THE” part of you that needs improving so don’t get so butt hurt when you hear unpleasant remarks. Alright, you cannot control how you feel so what you can do is not to take it against them. Focus on yourself. Focus.

I cannot buy new clothes because I’m waiting for the time when I’m happiest with my body. This way, I can use those clothes longer and I will have better options. I want to tell you more about the things I can no longer do but this is already turning into a novel so I have to make a conclusion now. Lol.

“We work out not because we hate our bodies; we work out because we love them” – this is the “mantra” of the zumba class I loved watching when I was jogging. It makes so much sense if you think about it. Self love is not always about acceptance. Self love must be tough love if you want to get better.

(A letter for my lazy self)