Goddess, I Am.

I’ve always loved summer. I love its promise of beaches and cloudless skies and sun-kissed days. All the summers of my life have always been fun and full of promise, so it’s no wonder why I never want it to end. Usually.

Well, except for this summer, that is.

The few fabulous trips we’ve taken notwithstanding, I think the only thing I’ve managed to do the past couple of months or so is soak in my own sweat all day and all night. It’s the dripping kind, too. In fact, I’ve been sweating so much that I didn’t even know that I – or anyone, for that matter – could be capable of sweating as much as this. Frequent showers, baby powder, and even air-conditioning do not seem to be helping at all. So all I can do is soak, sweat, and soak some more in this wretched heat.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, there seems to be no end in sight for the oh-so vile power outages that seem to be occurring more and more often now. Every day, like clockwork, usually between 9 AM and 1 PM, I find myself cursing VECO to the heavens. Seriously, why do they always turn off the damned power when the sun is at its hottest? And why is the company so backwards that it can’t see the benefits of weatherization training for its employees?

Strangely enough, The Husband (he who has been used to snow and ice and the awful cold of London) is faring a lot better than I am – and I’ve lived in the tropics forever. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s actually enjoying it. But then, life’s not fair that way.

Really, it’s hellish, this summer. And for once, I would be very glad when it’s over. Here’s hoping it won’t decide to extend its stay this year. I’ve had enough. Really.

For the longest time, I’ve been using The Husband’s battered, old ‘Pixar’ lamp. I call it such because it’s exactly the same kind of lamp that hops in those Pixar movies. Unfortunately, the poor thing has traveled with him from London to Bangkok to Cebu, so it really is quite battered now.

Sometime after Christmas, I finally decided to pick up a new lamp. So off we went to CAMG in Parkmall (definitely one of my favorite shops EVER) to look around. The place carries stuff from IKEA, mostly lamps, so I was quite happy poking around the place all afternoon. Mind you, I wouldn’t know if they’re genuine IKEA or not, but I’m inclined to think so. (I’m also crushing on a plush, pink chair, but I refuse to think about it.)

Now, I originally had my eye on a white IKEA lamp, which was on sale (30% off!). But just as I was about to buy it, something pink and pretty caught my eye. It was one of those tactile lamps that would light up no matter where you touched it, and it was down from P2,500 to P1,500, so I bought it on the spot.

The uber helpful salespeople then rang it up through one of those barcode scanners – and promptly told me that I couldn’t have the lightbulbs! Well, I’m not one to make a fuss over something as trivial as lightbulbs, so I asked the guy to write down in detail the kind of bulbs that I needed for the lamp. And because there was no hardware shop to be found in Parkmall and it was quite late to go elsewhere, I figured my lamp could wait one night.

The next day, The Husband and I went to True Value in Ayala to get the E-14 bulbs that were required. We couldn’t find the round ones, but since the guy only specified E-14s, we figured any bulb of that sort would be okay. That night, we tried the bulbs on the lamp – and it exploded! And just like that, my pretty pink lamp was dead.

The next day found us back in CAMG. After all, I wasn’t about to write off a 1-day-old exploding lamp just like that. The staff was fantastic, though. They immediately offered to replace it. Unfortunately, the only colors they had left for the same kind of lamp were a tacky gold and a gloomy black, and I wasn’t about to settle for anything less than what I wanted.

And then my eyes settled on the white IKEA lamp that first caught my eye. I told them that I’d take it instead, and they let me – for P600 more. This time, I made sure that the guy talked to The Husband about the lightbulbs required, so there can be no more scary explosions. Thankfully, it works with the spare lightbulbs that The Husband normally has lying around, so I now have an awesome new lamp that is somehow making my bedtime reading 20 times more pleasurable.

On my desk chair: IKEA lamp, Antony and Cleopatra by Colleen McCullough, Moleskine planner, and Squirt (from Finding Nemo), the stuffed turtle that The Husband bought for me on our last trip to Hongkong Disneyland in 2007

Next project: a couple of proper bedside tables. Right now, the green chair is just so . . . WRONG.

We’ve made some rather serious decisions over the past few days about the life that we’re going live together. Sure, living in the Philippines is easy, but truth be told, it’s almost impossible to make serious money around here. The same goes for the rest of Southeast Asia. So we’ve finally realized (or more accurately, agreed) that if we’re going to have a little nest egg to retire on in 20 years or so, we need to live in the West.

The easiest way would be to get married, of course. Then he can go back to the UK and find work, while I get the proper visas. With any luck, I’ll be in London in 6 months or less. But nothing ever sounds that easy (as if it would be easy to be away from him for months). For one thing, the world economy is in a bad state, so heaven only knows what sort of difficulties a returning British citizen might encounter back home. For another, The Fiance is completely averse to moving back to the UK anyway because Eastern Europeans who work for peanuts are taking the good jobs and all the benefits. We figured the UK would be a last resort.

Instead, we decided not to rely on just one place and weigh our options literally everywhere. Our best chance would be anywhere in the EU, and we’re leaning heavily towards the Netherlands (where my best friend, Kaye is). We also want to look into Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and maybe even the US (though I’m very skeptical about America, to be honest).

So it looks like we’re going to be busy, busy, busy within the next few weeks with assessments and point systems and what-have-yous. We’re also going to start working on the paperwork needed to get married (who knew there would be so many?!?!) so we can do it sometime in March. There’s a lot of uncertainty in the future, but I feel really good knowing that we’re doing something about it.

Wherever we go, I’m going to have to convince The Fiance to part with his gear for a while. It would be much too costly to ship everything out again – a hell of a lot more than the small fortune that we already paid to ship from Bangkok to Cebu. Maybe we can sell them all and just buy new stuff later when we’re more settled, or put everything in self storage – I don’t know yet.

One thing’s for certain: if we’re going to move, we have to be willing to leave a lot of things behind.

You know what they say: birds of a feather, yada yada yada. Well, everyone knows I’m a strange girl, so it’s only perfectly natural that I’m surrounded by strange people.

Take my family, for instance. I have a mother who dances 80s dance steps while cooking binignit, and a little sister who truly believes her unborn child determines her daily diet. I had an aunt who developed a weird, nasal British accent that’s definitely nothing like Harry Potter after living in London for just a little over a year. Not only that, I have a grandma who believes that her dreams determine the fate of the world (or at least, mine), the latest of which had something to do with me being in jail in Thailand, complete with iron clamps ’round the ankles.

Even The Boyfriend is no different. The man actually drags me off jeepneys when they dilly-dally too long in Country Mall trying to get passengers. He even makes me fight for the P0.50 rollback fare cut, not for the money, but (to use his words) “for the principle of the matter.”

It’s only inevitable that my friends are strange creatures, as well. One of my best friends lived with her Dutch boyfriend for months and never – and I mean, NEVER – slept with him once. Another one ‘borrowed’ my travel pictures a year ago and passed them off as her own in Friendster (even if we don’t look anything alike) to make her cheating ex jealous of her ‘wanderings’ – and they’re still there to this day. And let’s not forget my best friend who has lost so many marbles over the years that whoever found them probably now has a full set (Peace, Lhen!).

But I do have friends who are quite normal – that is, until they exhibit undeniably crazy behavior. Take Chin for example. At first glance, she’s this cute little thing with a family just as cute that they may as well be in one of those soy sauce adverts. Possibly the most ridiculous thing that she’s ever done was set me up with a guy who believed he looked like Van Damme when he just looked, well, goddamned (for lack of better words), and write an article on hair when she’s meant to be writing about nails. Nope, nothing strange there at all.

It’s amazing, however, how one’s grief over a computer that crashed with no warning, taking with it file after file of written articles, can drive one to a drunken stupor so severe that one quite suddenly discovers a hidden talent in bongo-playing, which just has to be unveiled in that very bar on the very night of one’s epiphany – as what can be seen here:

Love the dress, love the shoes, but most of all, love the uber smug look.

Ahhh, yes. My friends are strange, indeed. Thank heavens for that, or I wouldn’t be laughing so much on a regular basis.