Maggie and Gutsy's forays into nostalgiatime made me realize, somewhat belatedly, that 2010 marks the passing of an entire decade. So I thought a look back at the Noughties (surely there is something better to call it?) was worth blogging about.
But as I have the awful habit of putting a favorite song on loop literally for years, thus preventing more current songs from penetrating my aural fog, I am not in the best position to make a playlist to commemorate the decade.
So let me just remember how it was 10 years ago, when I was 18.
10 years ago...
... I was a college freshman and my favorite class was English with Doreen Fernandez. I was just beginning to discover how much writing was a part of me, how happy I was doing it, and how good I could really be at it. Ten years later, it's become how I make a living and how I live.
... I was possessed by the terrifying belief that to lose myself in the delicious mindlessness of pleasure, I had to be very deeply in love. To my great relief, I learned that the two could exist independently, thereby leading to some very liberating but otherwise pointless and frustrating... er, adventures.
... I made a powerful choice to be happy, long before I knew I could make such powerful choices, which got me over the biggest heartbreak of my life. Thankfully, no other heartbreak has followed to date.
... I promised to be friends with my first love. We still are.
... I met the man whom I would marry. I never thought he would be the one.
... The singular point of my existence was making it on tour, getting to Europe and having a life-changing adventure. I was probably waiting for some European Lothario to sweep me off my feet, but the real life-changer was the friends I made in the process of making it on tour and singing my way through Europe.
... I fell in love with singing. And after years of being an alto, I became a soprano. Now that was life-changing!
... I was in Slovenia, among other places. And I was shocked to discover not everywhere in Europe was prettier/newer/better than the Philippines. Slovenia!!! How's that for somewhere you'll never be again.
Que horror! Ano ba yang bandanna efek?
... Oh Lord! All my tour pictures were on film. Each roll of film cost roughly Php150 and about the same to develop. I had to really think about which pictures I wanted to take. I saved up for months to have all 18 rolls from the tour developed. In my mind, 10 years is not that long ago since the memories are amazingly fresh -- but looking at these film prints just makes it all seem prehistoric.
... Speaking of pictures. The only person who had a digital camera back then was multibillionaire wonder boy and pawnshop heir Harvey Villarica. The resolution of this uber-expensive piece of technology was... ONE megapixel. Which meant he could develop them into prints about the size of a postage stamp (or, if you really wanna go back, Neoprint-size). We were all mystified the first time he showed it to us. "Harvey, what will you do with the pictures if you can't develop them?" my English block mates wondered. "Put them on the Internet," he shrugged. We just stared at him. "But... what for?" Ah, the dark ages.
... My family and I were struggling to make ends meet. There were days where I literally would have to scrounge up fifty pesos just to be able to go to school. Things are vastly improved now, to say the least.
... I shared a bedroom with my sister, with my mom in the next room. Today we live in three different cities -- Sta. Rosa, Kuala Lumpur and Singapore.
... I was at least 35 lbs lighter. This in spite of the fact that I would have a three-pack of Chips Ahoy or a chocolate bar everyday. Well at least now we know how I got to my present weight. Hah.
... And in spite of the fact that I was 35 lbs lighter, I absolutely did not take advantage of my skinny-ness and dressed like an eejit. My favorite outfit was flared jeans, black leather platforms from the mercato in Milan, a blouse and a Jansport backpack. Ngek. My second favorite outfit was army green cargo pants, a large t-shirt, and sneakers. Fug. This style of dressing created the impression that I was either butch (Marlon: "I thought you hated guys") or an athlete (Mags Imaizumi: "Oh aren't you on the soccer varsity? You dress like the type"). Go figure.
I loved this butchy grey Esprit jacket to death. I wore it all over Europe
with my passport, wallet, camera AND travel journal stuffed into my tummy pocket
like a dumpy manang kangaroo. I even cried when it went missing.
with my passport, wallet, camera AND travel journal stuffed into my tummy pocket
like a dumpy manang kangaroo. I even cried when it went missing.
Now I wish I could reach into this photo and rip it off me.
Mamatay na lang ako sa lamig.
Mamatay na lang ako sa lamig.
... I had virgin hair. (High school attempts to "dye" it with Kool-Aid do not count.) I had only just discovered how not to tweeze my eyebrows to invisibility. Upper lip waxing, moisturizer, eye cream and sunblock were not yet part of my beauty vocabulary. The only sunblock in my consciousness was Coppertone and you would never think of putting that gunk on your face if you weren't at the beach.
... I failed Math 12. Ten years later, does it matter? Hell no.
... Come to think of it, I can say with perfect honesty and zero regret that I once woke up to find myself in bed with my Math 12 teacher and his wife! (Be not alarmed: Lorna, Gerard and I were in the same Glee Club caroling group that year and we slept in the sofabed in Eunice's den after caroling in Alabang. I was sleeping next to Lorna, naturally. LOL!)
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