When I was in high school, I love to read what we call pocketbooks. Stories about romance, of love and life, and happy endings. Some of the scenes from the books I still remember (some remain my favorites)—includes of course the joy in reading, the sigh of happiness and relief of how the story unfolds, the kilig! One of my favorites that I still remember—coming from one of the books I have read first when I was still getting into reading these pocketbooks—was when the heroine trimmed her hair probably just an inch shorter and the hero noticed it. I don’t remember the lines exchanged between the characters but my mind goes to this particular scene every time I read any romance books these days.
Would someone actually noticed something nonsensical and minuscule as such in real life?
I think I used to. Then I stopped paying attention—I think that’s what happened when life gets in the way that what you notice is only yourself. Selfish and a bit depressing. Heh.
I don’t think I have live many lives as other people did, for quite a while, I didn’t know how life works. I just know it was shitty and some are good days. Since I moved to the States, I have been alone. It has only been a couple of years since I finally tried opening up to new friendships—I really don’t know how to gain friends in a place I know no one. I have read workplace isn’t the best place to find friends. Relatives remind me that it’s not safe to attend meet-ups because… you just don’t know, even though I know book clubs would have a been a good start for me since I enjoy reading. I don’t fret these things now because I trying new things now…somehow.
These days, I think I’m trying to start paying attention again—going back to learning on how to be observant and astute again. Maybe this is why I’ve noticed how my mother learned how to say sorry now to us, her kids, and even to her siblings even though she does the right things; or how my father learned how to say thank you, after his cardiac arrest last year. I think he learnt how to more grateful now. Or how my eldest sister always reaches out in the family group chat even nothing important is there to talk about—because I realize now how it is hard when you are away from your family and her being the first one to step away from our home to earn for living. Or how my second eldest sister is willing to spend money for us with no hesitation although she resent things that had happened in the family but knew how hard it is to live without money. Or how my sister before me insists on paying us back soon with the help we provide her because she thinks she might be a burden. Or how my grandmother calls my mother’s name even when she’s away for work, maybe because she knows how my mother treats her right. Or how some of my relatives treat us shit sometimes—hawk-eye on things that we do.
Ugh, never mind. I hate talking about some of my relatives. They don’t belong on this space.
Not a long time ago, I have attended these every week type of learning conferences at work. One topic is about self-awareness and self-management. This is particularly helpful understanding how I personally react on things and understanding how other people react as well. It’s so bizarre just knowing some of these things now. Because when I was clueless—or acting clueless—I didn’t care. Now, I overthink things when I feel like I said or done the wrong things. Although what’s weirder is witnessing your coworkers sudden mood change because of the way they handle their job and tasks—but sometimes there is no right way to approach things because some of the are just volatile. I still pull away from these scenarios sometimes and just say things like “take it easy” even though I know it’s not effective at all. Hopefully, I am able to help them regulate their emotions too—but hey, that ain’t MY job. Hah!
Which reminds me of that one question asked by a friend during on of our lunch breaks: “Are you guys happy?” Other friend said they are, and I on the other hand just say, “I don’t think I am genuinely happy. There are good days, though, when I feel happy enough.” And the asker friend agreed with me and added, “Money would help, though.”
I don’t think I feel miserable. I don’t think MY life is depressing, although things happening around the world today are.
Maybe I never stopped paying attention, I think I just learned how to be more understanding—living life with empathy and humility. Not that I didn’t before, more so now.
And no, I don’t think anybody has noticed when trimmed my hair an inch shorter.
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