All The Single Ladies

Lately everybody, I think, is busy getting married except me.

I’ve made invitations, helped bake a wedding cake, be the events coordinator of my friends' weddings, shared good natured jokes about married life with them. And as always, when everything turns to the idea of how happy it is to be married to the person you love, they turn to me and ask me, so Joyce what are you waiting for? When are you getting married?

That question is no stranger to me anymore.

Í already have the date of my wedding, it will be a Sunday affair, 6p.m. Year is yet to be determined. Now all I have to do is find myself a groom.

If I could just choose the man of my dreams and haul him straight to the altar without him filing a case of kidnapping against me, I would gladly say, I found the one. I would gladly do it, with much gusto in fact!

The only problem is I still haven’t purchase a reliable baseball bat to use for my prospective groom. Just so when he happens to pass right before my nose, I can just weld my mighty baseball bat and strike the living daylights out of him. Drag him to the altar and get married. When he wakes up, he doesn’t have any choice but to accept his faith and love me until thy kingdom comes.

My love story would be an adventure for sure.

I met with a girlfriend yesterday and she was “mourning” the same funny problem as mine. We were amused about it. It seems like everybody is concerned of finding the right man for us. The only thing left that they haven't done is to put us in the marriage market in the literal sense of the word. In the Philippine society, when a woman reaches the age of 30, it is as if it is the time to send her to an emergency room. Time is ticking and she should find herself a husband.

If this was Spanish or American period in the Philippines, I am so sure that by the time I have reached the age of 25 then, I would be called a spinster. But at least they are now more forgiving with single ladies. This time at least when it is thirty years old. When you reach the proverbial thirty something, some people will undoubtedly ask you why aren’t you married at this age. Sometimes, I find it funny that many of my single friends share the same sentiments and funny stories as mine.

On occasions like weddings and baptisms or any family gathering for that matter, mark my word, someone is bound to ask you the question why aren’t you married yet. Our society seems to follow a sort of check list in order to belong to it. We were born first, then we reach puberty, adulthood, then it is expected that we get married. We have to leave a legacy in this world so we have children . And then, we die. (Okay, I sound so morbid with the last one, I know.) We have to follow those stages. It’s the natural order of things as some people would say. It’s a step by step process that society expects for us to follow.

When you’re single in a society that dictates double, sometimes things get nasty or yes, funny.

On gatherings such as weddings, birthdays and what have you, single ladies are almost readily paired with available single men. The son of a friend, the son of a neighbor, the cousin of a friend and so on. Sometimes, without being asked whether they would like to be paired at all. Believe me through the years, I’ve ALMOST memorize the lines before my relatives could even pair me with one. I really dont take it personally because their intentions might be for my own good but it still amuses me at no end. And by the way, if it’s any consolation, ALL my unmarried girlfriends have experienced the same thing one time or another.

Eventually, it has become a constant source of joke among ourselves.

The world is so busy finding the right man for us while we are so busy exploring earth and the universe beyond. I’m perfectly fine with being single just as I’m perfectly fine with being in a relationship. I know my time hasn’t come yet. There are adventures to experience and new horizons to discover. Earth is such a wonderful place despite of everything. One look at the sunrise makes me marvel about the beauty of our existence.

Yes, I am so busy appreciating life.

I’m never bored being single. Not once did it become my problem. Of course, I enjoy the company of a man and also develop interest in the male specie. Why not? the male species are fascinating albeit complicated sometimes. But to say I’m suicidal because I just turned 32 and unmarried? No sir, I am not. It will come in its own sweet time.

I really don't know.

Maybe tomorrow, next week, next year or maybe in the next five years or maybe ten years. Only God knows. But it will surely come. Period. For the meantime, society should stop expecting that I will go out of my way and hunt for the man of my dreams. He will come. In the right time, he will be there. And as what I jokingly tell my single girlfriends always, God provides. Ask and it will be given.

Being married is a blessing just as being single is also a gift.

Buhay U.P.....Tatak Pinoy

So what makes you a certified UP student?

You never did buy yourself a decent book. For a seasoned Iska, books aren’t meant to be bought. Believe me. You never buy them because you can find them in the library. If you were lucky enough, they only have one copy. So you go fight with the rest of your classmates and when things turned really NASTY, everybody settles to nominate the official person to oversee the photocopying of the materials. (Intelligent blokes aren’t we?)

You go to class wearing your night clothes. Sometimes a short and a T-shirt that says I’m a gorgeous babe. But you looked like a runner perspiring all over as you sprint your way across the gate in a frenzied hurry because the fact is, you have a long exam to catch. You wake up and you freeze as everything stands still when you find out you have ten minutes to go before your first long exam. To date, that professor of yours never did allow his students to be late. You didn’t stay up late that night only to end up not being able to take the exam. Moral lesson, buy yourself an alarm clock, loud enough to wake up the whole neighborhood.

You know the library like the back of your hand. Your talent goes beyond this one. Ask anybody to give you the book’s call number and you assure them that you MIGHT just find it for them, too. Such is your skill in what we often call as “book hunt”.

If the professor says it’s a reference book, you know he’s probably joking. What he means actually is, you should have them photocopied and read them before you get your awesome butt inside the class. Or maybe you might just find it interesting to undergo a bombastic lecture about the perils of an empty mind. And when he says read, he means read not just one book but a number of them. He’ll even be generous enough to recommend an endless list of readings for you to enhance your “beautiful mind.” You wouldn’t even dare to have forty winks at night or you end up having a nervous breakdown before you enter the class.

Coffee is an integral part of your body system. You start to think, maybe your blood have turned into cappuccino or what from all the “drinking sprees”. Downing SIGNIFICANT AMOUNTS of caffeine night and day. Two sachets are not enough to suffice your discriminating taste, meaning you can’t stay awake with two cups. Morning comes, your eyes are very expressive. Droopy eyes. Dazed look. But heck, everybody’s sporting it!! Welcome to the jungle.

You meet a freshman and you want to give in to the urge to tell him…WELCOME TO HELL. (Grin) Nah! You know how it feels to be paralyzed with fear with all those talks of terror teachers lurking somewhere. So you choose to tell her, it’s going to be okay and you give the poor soul a conspiratorial wink while saying “If I were you I’ll have my library card signed as early as the first day of school.”

Being aware of your social responsibility is a way of life. You and your friends are suckers for current events. Everybody is expected to share their thoughts and opinions about issues in the society. Much to your chagrin,you forget that you have to write a term paper because you end up arguing with your friends about your stand on a certain issue.

You don’t check out the latest fashion at the magazine stand. That would come later if you have enough money left after having VOLUMES and CHAPTERS of books photocopied. By the time, you go out of the university to check out that cool backpack that you’ve been eyeing for sometime, you don’t even have a single coin left to buy yourself a chewing gum. So where is justice in that?

You feel intelligent. Of course, you have every reason to feel that way. After all you passed the UPCAT, right? You now belong to the country's premier university and so they say. But something inside you tells you that something is wrong with that idea. Remember the FIRST TIME that you've failed an exam? It hurts a lot I'm sure. But don't worry, if it's any comfort to know, many of us got their first heartache (on a failed exam) probably in this university. Cheer up, kiddo.

Do not judge a book by its cover. You couldn't agree more. That guy who looks like Barok fresh from the cave is actually a Math genius and a national champion in chess. You wouldn't dare compete with him. That shy girl beside you who aces her exams in history is actually a singing diva at a local pub. And of course, you don't give a damn whether he's the son/daughter of so and so. You know very well that no one is above the law in this institution.

Love life? Of course, you have one. They think just because you bury your nose in a pile of readings for PI 100 or STS, you're an ice maiden!! What they don't know is that, You are constantly checking out that cute guy in the front row with an adoring look fit for a king. Not until your professor calls out the result of the exams, you pass the exam but Mr. Cute scored zero. Suddenly you wanted to move on with your life without him. You turn to look at your professor instead, despite of his nerd look, the terrorist actually looks cool in his new pair of eyeglasses!

You have mastered the art of cooking pancit canton. Not that you can’t afford to buy yourself a decent meal but you know very well that “TIME IS GOLD.”

Enrollment gives you the chance to practice what your mom usually tells you….Patience is a virtue. You couldn’t agree more. And you begin to wonder whether UP stands for University of Pila.

Now, let me ease the topic in a different direction. After four years of being a student, your role changed into something more challenging. Now you have become a UP teacher.

So what makes a UP teacher?

You say, get one half piece of paper and students echo your instructions like parrots. One-half Maam? One-half Prof? One half Miss? Ano maam, one-half? Isn’t it that this university is supposedly the institution for the exceptionally talented and the brightest students in the country? Yes, class, one-half. And you eventually succumbed to the truth that they all have hearing defects despite being gifted.


You say good morning class among your freshmen students and they give you a
puzzled look. You tell yourself I should have worn something formal, like a killer slacks and a Victorian styled blouse. They expect to see a school marm but they end up seeing their reflection, jeans, t-shirt and a back pack. Next time, you know better than to shocked your students about not being “respectable” in their eyes.

Read the newspaper everyday. . It will save your hide during exams. Do not memorize rather understand what you are reading. Don’t just read. Think. Be creative in your presentations. I don’t like half bake papers. So give me your best shot. These are your favorite mantra. And pretty soon, your students get nosebleeds.

A deadline is a deadline otherwise you’re dead. And you hear that familiar groan across the room. But you stand firm. Somehow you feel the need to inculcate the value of discipline no matter what. No excuses. Come deadline and you try to wear the toughest look to prove to them that you mean business. Most of the time, it’s effective. They’re too afraid to cross you, knowing your favorite line is….. DO NOT PROVOKE THE ANIMAL INSTINCT IN ME. With a gentle smile, of course.

You begin to wonder whether it’s high time to have yourself a boyfriend for fear of ending up as the honorary member of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club. But nah, you tell yourself, real men want intelligent women. No need to hurry. You have to get your MA and your PhD first. But of course, you know that maybe you are asking too much.

You study your lessons well. Check your presentations and lectures. You never go into class unprepared. It’s your worst nightmare. You always remind yourself that these are not just ordinary students. Come to think of it, you might be talking to the future president of the country. A privilege of course. But at the moment, he surely knows that it’s a privilege and honor to attend your class.

Once in a while, you spot a genius, (everybody’s supposed to belong to the cream of the crop, right? I can see my students grinning like Cheshire cats.), the one who aces your exams effortlessly and delivers witty lines during recitations. You wonder, however, why you don’t see him lately. Somehow you find out that his scholarship allowance is delayed. No money. No food. He is forced to choose between feeding his mind and feeding his stomach.

You get yourself to reflect that despite of the modest salary that you received and despite repeated offers of very well-paying jobs, you stick to this institution simply because it gives you a certain pride to educate the scholars of the nation. And that it gives you a certain sense of serenity and happiness that you have inspired them. Inculcate the value of serving others. This you continue to do even if the logic of that reasoning is simply vague for your friends and family.

You are then reminded of the simple fact that the institution you work for is the University of the Masses, where poor but brilliant minds are given the chance to fulfill their dreams. Where promising minds forged their dreams of being and becoming and that you feel that you can make a difference in their lives.

Above all, somehow in the face of trying times, you never forget to tell them never to lose their faith to their own people. And that you fervently hope that someday, when the going gets tough, they will remember that, THE FILIPINO IS WORTH LIVING FOR.

Having said this, you go into sleep with that beautiful music that softly plays in your heart. What more could you ask for?