The concept of me: 23 years in the making
I must have unnecessarily explained the concept of me to me and to countless who find it odd why I do so. But this I need to do, for just one more time, to see how much I've grown as an individual, as a person.
Roses + Sunset = Perfect
Almost a week and a half ago, I celebrated my 23rd year as an earthling. Filled with questions as to how and why my photo-obsessed dad didn't have pictures of my pregnant mom, I still nevertheless conditioned myself in celebrating my day with all the positive energy I could grab. To my surprise, my boyfriend of more than four months/friend of almost six years, gave me more than four dozens of scarlet-red roses and indulged my old-fashioned whim of capping the day with time spent viewing the Manila Bay sunset. As if on cue, when I told him how much I appreciate and how much I now believe that he, indeed, loves me, a second climax of what could have been a chick flick happened with him responding in a "kilig-to-the-bones" manner.
Glorified beggar?!
Then of course, the first week of my 23rd year couldn't possibly be all roses, otherwise it would be unfair for the rest of the third world population. I became a victim of what the real world constantly gives to what it thinks as the naive. The very fact that some people just couldn't at least credibly hold their position of power earned my ire.
It is frustrating enough that I can't process with practical ease my clearance and my separation pay with Citigroup, what more if its bank loan officers cling desperately to a Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas (BSP) circular just to look down on their loan application clientele otherwise known as "classified-glorified beggars"?!
Hot tears welled in my eyes on the day I learned that my voter's ID and tax information number (TIN) ID aren't recognized by Citibank as a valid primary ID for the fact that these are the laminated-types. Sure it was my fault why, after two years of officially being deducted with big withholding taxes every 15-30, it's only now that I got to secure my TIN ID and it isn't even the concern of the bank either if securing such cost me half a day's salary but somehow, somewhere, I felt that something wasn't right.
Note: My law-school acquired sleuthing/analyzing skills, thanks to UP Law, had me knowing that the BSP Circular #564 the two bank officers were quoting never said anything about prototype/laminated-type IDs, even those issued by the government, voter's and TIN IDs included, being now considered as secondary IDs.
It was humiliating that I was being treated as a passive and stupid loan applicant. And even if I were, nobody has the right to inaccurately quote or interpret legal provisions just to ward off valid inquiries. I would have accepted a rational explanation like "banking discretion" but none was presented.
Old rule of the thumb though: "Don't bite the hand of the one feeding you." So right now, while meekly waiting for my Citibank loan approval, I can only hear distant mocking laughs of victory along with the triumphant statement: "If it were not for us, you still wouldn't have had the chance of securing your passport." Now I'm haunted by the nagging feeling of wanting to continue my law studies so I wouldn't be stepped on. But this is another story.
Facets
Just as how the American accent is filled with contrasts and comparisons, my life is a zoo of clashing ironies and oddities all secretly hoping to be in harmony with each other.
An earlier peaceful talk with my boyfriend turned into a teeth-and-bones-shattering defensive discussion on why I don't want to read the Bible. Apparently, what he said about "loving me anyway despite of and in spite of" just to shush me from what he started in the first place didn't work so now I quote my post-phone call text to him:
"One thing I want you to know about me is about my faith in Him. I've been schooled in catholic schools from nursery to sixth grade. Though the secondary school I attended wasn't a catholic school, being the mayor of the student government in my fourth year had me implementing the praying of the 12 noon Angelus and the 3 o'clock prayer everyday. I was part of the Bible Club in grade school and up to now, I have a Bible with me among my things but ironically, I admit that I never developed the patience to sit and read it. Maybe it's because I'm also already cynical when it comes to the different interpretations of the Holy Book so I just sought to maintain the basics - do good things, respect the elders, believe in Him. I visit the church too even if it's not every Sunday as I pray and talk to Him everyday. What's more, I love Christian traditions such as Christmas, Catholic weddings, processions because of the solemn and joyful feeling of how these unite families and friends. This is the reason why last Christmas, I cried because for the first time, I was at the dining table only with our househelp when the clock struck 12..."
I neither admit nor deny that I'm a snob as at times, what I say is negated by what I think and how I act. I'd like to think I'm brave and strong even when I cry. I'd like to think I'm still a righteous human being, my principles never to be judged or criticized, even when I do plead guilty to weaknesses. I'd like to assume states of apathy and yet, more often than not, I couldn't help but want to save the world in ways I know I can.
I am towers of strength that need drainage too.
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