The Sunshine Post #15

Hello dears!

I had dinner with The Mafia the other night. Not THAT mafia – just a group of girls in my high school who used that term to name themselves for reasons I never knew. But the name stuck all the way to our twenties. I guess it's a better, edgier name that most. Every high school has that clique – the girls who dressed well, are confident and very polished … the glamoristas of their class. They're not like The Plastics (circa Mean Girls), but more of, hmm, Cher and Dionne in Clueless. (My age is showing, I know.) Back then, I was half a loner and always played hopscotch on the Venn diagrams of peer groups, and this was one of those who made me an honorary member. Every group needs their resident nerd.

For those who may wonder how a geek like me who doesn't watch TV and has a world of her own can be so up-to-date with trends, society, fashion, and other things that nerds shouldn't know about, well, now you know. Dude, it's not like I had a choice: They would have probably pounced on me and held me down if I still didn't do something about my wardrobe. These are the people who urged me to "invest" in my skin, to abandon sweatpants and dress up every so often, to know the difference between dulce and Dolce, to know who people like Anna Wintour and Dan Eldon are, and to welcome hair removal. They gave me the education every girl (and boy) should have -- at least for informational purposes.

Anyway, meet some of my favorite people who are extremely important to me, and whom you will meet should I get married or die young:

Rhea – My source of financial knowledge. One of the many friends who was so worried about me in grad school, when I was showing uncharacteristic signs of depression. We're closer now because of my tumultuous "breakup" with academia. She's that girl in your class who has the patience to arrange reunions, parties, dinners, etc. -- the girl who will head your PTA.

Alby – Like me, an honorary member, especially since he's a dude. He's also my favorite "son" (A term I use for my friends' boyfriends whom I have adopted and am now BFF with forever and ever.) He used to drive me around when I first arrived in New York City to show me the sights. Yes, dear. Pick me up at eight. Mommy doesn't drive. Grandma, he used to live in your building! He could see right into a certain Victoria's Secret model's apartment window.

Carissa – The fashion prodigy, and one who has known me since we were six years old. The only one who can drag me to Scoop NYC and make it an educational experience! I will never forget the time when she took me to Woodbury's last September to shop for a suit for the UN. The sight of her bustling to and from my dressing room in Armani, weighed down with expensive Italian suiting while I just sat there frustrated and amused, was priceless. (We settled for an eighty-dollar suit from Calvin Klein because I'm cheap and I hate suits.)

Cat (short for Cathrine à Phil, does this spelling look familiar to you? Hmm? Tsk, tsk.) – One of my many friends in medical school, but one who actually wants to be there. I'm urging her to be a dermatologist since she already has great skin, and also because I need one.

Cher – Assistant editor for this lifestyle mag. One of the many people who always had to call me by my full name. In high school, there was no "Cathy." Everyone would call me "Cathy Young." I guess this means I have to hyphenate when I get married? She gave me green eyeliner once – the brave girl -- in an attempt to jumpstart my makeup skills which have remained undeveloped.
Tammy – The Godmother and the photojournalist. My source of all knowledge about what goes on in Manila. We can all thank her for unleashing the non-conservative side of me. I swear I was not like this before. We seem to be polar opposites, but we hit it off quite well. She used to pick on me in high school. She's one of the few people who mother me instead of the other way around. We worked for the same newspaper; she helped me write my first piece. I will do anything for this girl, including watch a Will Ferrell movie (although you will have to drag me screaming before I do it again).

There are friends you will play sports with, talk on the phone with, work with, go to school with. These are the people I will eat with. We dined in a place with very rich Filipino food in one of the best things that popped up in Manila since I left – Greenbelt 5. (It's a mall, but man, what a mall! I could live here.) You meat-lovers out there would have been in heaven. Pork, chicken, beef! Sauteed, roasted, fried, simmered, gutted, grilled, and drowned in every imaginable sauce. In every corner of the table, except mine, which had broccoli and mushrooms. (Boo, I know.) Tammy kept telling me to pass the meat. I gave her a withering stare. The less sarcastic ones kept putting vegetarian food on my plate because they felt sorry for me.

The advantage of being vegetarian in a meat-eating country is that people feel so bad for you, they don't make you pay for dinner because you "just ate grass." And so went the cheapest date I've ever had in Manila's outrageously expensive financial district, Makati.

I think I am slowly attaining normalcy here. I've gotten reacquainted with almost everyone. I'm re-assimilating into the society that I left. I can text message like a native again! (This means that I can do it at lightning speed and with my eyes closed.) Woohoo! I'm Filipino again! I'm glad that I've had time to myself and with people who've known me when I was still in pigtails. It makes The New Plan seem more attainable because I still feel comfortable going for it despite being in my old box. I think that's the Happy Note of the Day – home doesn't feel like a box anymore, and so the new dream may just be, I hope, The Real Thing.


Lots of love,
Cathy