My Life According to Julia Fordham

My best friend from uni days, Robert, recently asked me io describe my life as a series of song titles by one artist. I initially scowled and thought of saying I could sum up my life through Miley Cyrus’s songs, but taking him seriously, I knew I simply could not. My life ain't that pop, after all. So no go.

After some pondering, it hit me that if there was one artist out there whose songs I related most to back in a day, it had to be those of British singer-songwriter Julia Fordham.

Describe yourself: "Towerblock". Probably the one song of Julia Fordham that I related most for a little over the first half of my life. That is, until Mr. Right found me and he has became my towerblock since.

How do you feel: "Patches of Happiness". Happiness was but fleeting moments for me in my younger days.

I didn’t know what being happy truly meant. Just that at a particular time and place I was happy. That all changed when I got married and had kids. Since then, those patches have become much larger. And yes, now I can truly say I’m quite happy.

Describe where you currently live: "East West" For here in Auckland, we Filipinos are able to live in a culture that blends the east and west.

If you could go anywhere, where would you go: "Happy Ever After", which may not be a place, per se, but a point in time. And if I’m not there yet, then that’s where I’d like to be. Even though life isn’t a fairy tale, I believe in “happy ever after”.

A place you’d like to visit, whether or not you’ve already been there before: "Italy" – to see the Vatican and perhaps catch a glimpse of the Pope; to set foot in one of the oldest countries in the world and bask in its history, arts, and cultre; to see Milan fashion up close.

What's the weather you like most: "Blue Sky". Although autumn is my favourite season and that I used to love walking in the rain, there’s nothing as peaceful and beautiful as the clear, blue sky.

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called: "Foolish Thing". Like most people, I’ve done a lot of foolish things and do get silly at times.

What is life to you: "Mysterious Ways" of course. It’s what makes life interesting.

Your fear: "Invisible War". The thought of which sends chills up my spine.

What is the best advise you have to give: "Hope, Prayer, Time" With faith, we would have hope. With hope, we can pray. With prayer, we can make the most (and best) of the time we have in this world.

Life Began and I Turned 40

So much hoopla has been made by almost everyone I know about turning 40. Big deal. Not much difference, really.

Okay, so maybe I'm not yet experiencing that mid-life crisis people talk about. Or maybe I've already been through it. Really, I think it's a matter of attitude, perspective, and faith. A lot of faith. That all is according to God's plan and that I should simply use my freedom to choose what do with my life with responsibility.

Anyway, I have to admit I looked forward to my 40th birthday starting a couple of years ago, thinking of possible ways to celebrate, including planning a big celebration. When D Day was near, I backed out, but still wanted a celebration, albeit a smaller one. One that I would enjoy and not be reckless of.

The day went by fast but productively. Bacon and eggs for breakfast courtesy of my husband and kids; Mass intended for me at my daughter's school, attended by my whole family; pizza (one of my favorite food in the world) for lunch; work; a couple of hours at the salon (my treat to myself); back to work; and coffee and dessert with hubby and our closest friends at La Marea. All in all it was a really good day.

I've been contradicting since that day that the saying "Life Begins at 40" doesn't apply to me, because life already began and I just turned 40. But if there is any truth that adage, then bring it on. I'm ready for life.

True Colors

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

After all that has been said and done, all the trials, all the challenges, all the disappointments, and all the misadventures, I've become the person I always was in the beginning.

A friend once said that the life I've led is the stuff made of Hollywood movies. The dramatic kind. A good read, if I or some other writer would take the time out to put into words all that I've been through and all that I chose to do with my life. Except maybe that for a good conclusion and commercial appeal, that writer would have to end my story early on or write a brief summary of what came to be.

Looking back, the person I was and whom I tried to be a decade or two ago area far cry from whom I've become today. Then again, I realize that I've always been the person I am today, albeit older, wiser, and definitely more mature. I sure didn't know anything much in my late teens and early adulthood, despite my strong belief that I knew it all back then.

I certainly had no idea before that my true colors are the ones I don today.

To Be Young Again

Once upon a time, in another lifetime, I was the kind of girl who was sugary sweet and almost always nice. The kind of girl almost everyone got along with, the classmate who could rarely ever say “no”, the student practically all teachers liked, the obedient daughter her parents were proud of, the sister her brothers adored.

At 17, I recall perennially being on a multi-tasking mode. In school, I took leadership roles in Kathalan, the drama club, and in Accion Juvenil, the club for those aspiring to join the Teresian Association of women lay apostolates (for which I started undergoing formation the year before). I also took part in the glee club, Marian Core, and Headstart (weekly outreach program). After school, I would rush to my gymnastics training two hours, for three times a week. Saturday afternoons were spent on more gymnastics training and jazz dancing lessons; or going to the Tala Leprosarium to give psycho-spiritual seminars as part of SHARE’s (Service for Human and Religious Experience, a peer-counseling organization led by La Salle Greenhills) projects. Weekend nights I was either taking advanced acting lessons at Rep Phil or rehearsing for a musical wherein I was part of the cast.

Although it may have seemed that my education then took a backseat to my extracurricular activities, I did take joy in learning what I could from whatever lessons teachers could bestow upon me -- albeit inadvertently tuning out in the mathematics and sciences. The languages had always fascinated me and thus, excelling in them came naturally. Gifted with superb memory, mastering the social sciences was child’s play. It was at this age that I also discovered a knack for the culinary arts, which I relished.

I do, however, recall having been called often to appear before the high school principal: to show my sprained ankle as proof of an absence or not being able to write due to the new blisters in my palms or sprained wrist; to be ordered to reschedule dance or drama rehearsals so as not to coincide with my math classes; or to be asked to let go of one of my extracurricular activities in school, in the hope of helping me have more time to study for subjects my grades have dropped down.

Ah, yes, I had lots of fun when I was 17, and still I couldn’t wait to get out of high school. There was a whole new world for me to yet conquer. Despite the surprise of all my classmates that I did not apply for courses in English or MassComm, I actually knew with utmost certainty that Behavioral Science was the undergrad degree I would pursue. And though I knew my parents wanted me to study at the Ateneo, I personally envisioned myself taking up college in UP, where fellow students would be of various backgrounds and experiences and consequently add flavor and color to my college life.

Young, idealistic, energetic, and full of optimism about the future. Ahh...to be young again! Although more than 20 years have passed, I still have some of that idealism and energy -- and certainly most of that optimism still intact.

And yes, if I could go back in time, I’d do it all again.

Not a Fairy Tale

She was by nature a probinsiyana with a passion for life. He was a Manila-boy with nary a care in the world. They went to a party. All the men lined up to dance with her. All the women's eyes were on him. She saw a handsome stranger. He beheld a goddess.

In a fairy tale, they would have met, danced, fallen in love, and lived happily every after. It didn't happen that way in real life. He did dance with her that night, though. Just once. And that was that. At least for some time.

She had ambition, an overwhelming drive to succeed. She liked to play the field, dating whomever she chose; not wanting to be tied down with the same partner at dances. She was the second child of ten, from a modest family in Cagayan de Oro.

He, on the other hand, had no desire to accomplish anything. He flirted with several women and ran away from any serious commitment. He drove around in a black Lincoln Continental wishing he could travel in it around the world. He was, after all, the eldest and favored among the four boys of a wealthy clan.

She wanted to become a doctor of law and vowed to wed a man of the same field, believing that only a lawyer could understand the profession she had chosen and put up with the rigors that would come along with it.

He was already a student of law; ahead of her for a couple of years, but delayed due to numerous absences and failures. He wanted to become a doctor of medicine, but his mother insisted otherwise.

She was chosen muse of the Ateneo college of law and he to be her consort. She put up a fight, transferring her anger -- on the country's first woman judge for insulting her out of envy -- to her darling son. She was crowned, just the same, with him at her side.

He desired her, that he knew. So much so that he swore to finish his studies so he could win her heart. Unlike other women, though, she did not drop on his lap and he had to woo her. Alas, he did not know how.

So his mother, as always, came to the rescue. Courted the woman in his aid, whom she realized was the best among the females that abound her son.

In his own way, he pursued her. He shaved his head of hair (to his regret years later when none would anymore grow), shunned his friends, studied for the bar examination, passed, and became a full-fledged attorney-at-law.

And after a total of seven years of courtship, she finally said yes. On 6 January 1960, they had a simple wedding ceremony celebrated by her younger brother who had become a priest. Their honeymoon was one of the longest in record, which lasted until she gave birth to a daughter one September morn eight years later.

She gave up practicing law when they wed to devote her time to the family and to give way to her husband, who's ego she believed she would have bruised if she had not. He doted on her and on their children, giving in to all their wishes and whims. Terry and Boy's marriage was not, however, a fairy tale.

He erred. Once too many. She nagged. Often and bitterly. He forgot a lot of things. Both trivial and important. She never forgot anything. Be it petty or grave. She complained but submitted. He kept silent but ruled. She threatened to leave. Some of the time. He begged her not to. All the time.

When she had a stroke, he cried to me, their eldest child. When he had an operation, she fret and I prayed for them both.

As parents, my brothers and I couldn't have asked for anything more. Except maybe that we were born eight years earlier or that they were eight years younger so that we could have spent time with them a little bit more.

Forty-five years ago, people were fascinated by the promise of Shangri-La and eternal love when they saw the movie "Love is a Many Splendored Thing". Just as my parents were back then.

Today, my dad is 74 years old and my mom was a less than fortnight shy of 70 when she passed away on 10 August 2001. For 41 years they lived a fruitful life as husband and wife, bearing and rearing three children, and caring for their grandchildren.

Though their love story may not be a fairy tale, it is safe to say that the last few years they lived together, they lived happily ever after.

Happy Ever After

I once wrote an article entitled "Romancing the Risk" that came out in a lifestyle magazine about not needing a man for it was what I grew up believing. "That's also what most of today's women's magazines and other forms of literature claim and try to impart to women. That the women of the 90s are tough, independent, competitive, assertive, and can do what they want on their own -- without a man.

I have always been a feminist, in spite of the fact that I grew up surrounded by the male species. Well, except for my mom. Most of the kids I played with during my childhood, whether cousins or neighbors, were boys. Added to that, I have two brothers as my only siblings.

In order to be accepted by them, I had to be tough like them. Stand physical pain without shedding a tear like them. Climb trees like them (the way monkeys do). Play with toy guns and cars like them (I actually had an extensive collection of matchbox cars). And fight like them (with black-eyes and all).

As the eldest child in our family, I naturally had more responsibilities, more rights, more privileges, more freedom. From my formative to adolescent to adult years. I never had a curfew and could stay overnight at a friend's house anytime. I was always allowed to travel around the country and abroad with my friends or by myself (my brothers weren't permitted to do any of these until they were in their twenties, when they started fighting for their rights).

I liked hanging around with males, from boys to men (no, not the singing group), but I didn't need them to achieve the things I was able to do. On my own, I had good grades, I ventured into several extra-curricular activities, and I got the jobs and positions I wanted and applied for with ease.

Sure, I said to myself, I didn't need, don't need, and won't need a man to establish a career, be successful in it and in other endeavors. I also don't need a man to be happy.

Despite my independence, achievements, and successes, I still long to have a family of my own. And though I can have this on my own (without a man), it wouldn't be as complete and fulfilling. Having experienced romantic love, I yearn for the companionship, intimacy, and "magic" that a special someone can give me. Heterosexual as I am, only a man can give these to me (hey, I can't conceive on my own, for even an artificial insemination requires a man's "cooperation").

And in spite of being liberal, I do believe in marriage and I do consider it as a very sacred covenant. But in this modern world, separation (legal and not legal), concubinage, and chauvinism (in spite of feminist movements and calls for gender fairness) are not only rampant, but are an everyday occurrence and are generally accepted by most people.

What assurance would I have then that the man I'll be involved with would want to marry me? But then how would I know unless I take the risk?"

Since I needed a man, after all, I decided the risk was worth taking. And soon afterwards, Mr. Right found me.