I AM AN ELITIST

Once again, I am writing about things that may, on first blush, prove how cloudy and arrogant my thinking may be. But I am going to articulate these thoughts anyway lest I forever store them in my brain in the file/bin marked "ridiculous". I may still do that but for right now, what I am thinking makes perfect sense to me.

I am an elitist. And I don't feel bad about it.

Yes, I do believe that there are levels of people in every sense be it social, political, moral, financial, spiritual, cultural or whatever other classification there is. There has to be. I mean, even religious beliefs allude to those who will "make it to heaven" and those who are in the "burn in hell" category. Perhaps even heaven and hell have levels of goodness and evil. I mean, come on, Hitler is just not in the same category as the fulano who stole my guitar.

Having said that, I think that we should treat each other, no matter what category we may place ourselves or others, as God has commanded us---equally and fairly. Now that I've said that, I am also going to state that empirically, people are not created equal. Or perhaps, more accurately, each person is given different gifts and/or varying degrees of capabilities, understanding and talents.

Elitism demands that only a select number of people whose views, skills, actions and status are to be taken the most seriously and carry the most weight. There are those who are gifted with extraordinary skills, abilities, wisdom and clarity. They are the ones who see higher than others, see things more clearly and can invoke change for the better. Not everybody can do this. And therefore, there definitely is a group of elite people, unmarked as they are, who are supposed to help make the world a better place.

The obvious question that comes to my mind is this: how do I know who they are and how do I know if I am part of that group? And if I am not a card-carrying member of this elite force, where can I sign up or at least find out what the membership requirements are? Obviously, I want to be a member. Obviously. And rightfully so.

I have begun to open my eyes and I can see above me. I look at people who are making a difference---those who have not only reached success in their careers but also those who seem to inspire confidence. Here are three of my observations:

First of all, they are obviously elite. By that, I mean that they look the part. They care about their appearance and care about how they are perceived. But there is a delicate balance here. The difference between them and the stereotypical pleaser-type who simply wants to be popular is that they don't define themselves by the perception they want to put out there. They only care about the first impression and after that, their motivations are purely ensconced in their work, their dreams or their goals. The mediocre/losers care only about their appearance, what others think of them and are governed either by the need to please others or the need to look good.

Secondly, they are the ones who seem to have everything. As a result of their work and dogged determination, the only end result of their work is inevitably, success. They seek out the best in everything. Yes, everything. And that includes whatever they deem appropriate to place in their homes, garages or bodies. They create environments that are uplifting and inspiring. And if that means that they have to live in the most exclusive parts of town, so be it. And they make no excuses for this because they understand and appreciate that they need to create environments that can exponentially affect the output of their efforts.

Third, they are not afraid to surround themselves with people who have talents and skills that surpass their own. They seek uplifting people who can pull them up, inspire them and enrich their lives. This is a seeming paradox. Some people actually seek out being with others who are comfortable and within their own sphere and/or those who are below their capabilities. This is because of two reasons: one is because they feel superior being on the top of the pecking order and second, they are afraid to make changes in their lives because it's "too hard", they're too comfortable or simply afraid. Then there are those who actually feel guilty about enlarging their circumstances because they resist the "temptation" to seek "wealth and privilege" because they assume that in suffering as God has suffered, they can achieve some sort of Nirvana. Hogwash. And not to mention bullcrap. But that's another subject that I've already tackled and you can click here if you'd like to read it. All they really do is make themselves more miserable and bitter. But there is a brightness and easy rapport with people who seek out the best company. The elite wants to seek out more of them and more importantly, recognize them. I definitely would rather be in their midst.

With these careful observations, I can figure out how to live my life. It's a mindset. Elitism is a mindset. But being a part of it means actually doing something about it. As much as it makes perfect sense that everyone should be aspiring to be part of the elite, the majority of people won't do it or don't have the chops to do it. Resistance is simply too keen, too strong. Which begs one to ask why. I don't know. But I would venture to say that it's one of four things: fear, lack of imagination, lack of vision and quite simply, ignorance. I think that religion or rather, the interpretation of moral tenets impact the desire to excel and think outside our boxes. I think that education--continuous, meaningful and unquenchable need for education---is the key to unlocking the doors that prevent us from soaring beyond what we imagine we can deserve or are entitled to.

True elitism I think is that quality in us that inexplicably gives us the feeling that we have special privileges and responsibilities to aid in the betterment of man. Education enleashes that quality. Imagination gives one the map to explore. Gratitude and humility are the lenses that clarify our vision, enabling us to recognize those who are supposed to enrich, enhance and enlarge our lives so we can make a difference in others.

I am an elitist. Always have been. Always will be. I renounce everything and anyone that will pull me down. Time is so limited and indeed, life is too short.

TAKING A BREAK

I am SO looking forward to a change in scenery next week. I intend to spend the day in the San Francisco area with a friend just to be together, talk, shop, maybe get a pedicure. The world seems to be getting smaller and smaller here and I need some perspective. San Francisco would be a good place to start. We are going to London in just six weeks for 5 days and then another four days in Berlin just to have a look-see. I am excited about that too. I don't know what to do in July. I toyed with the idea of going to Manila but July's weather patterns are just too iffy with typhoons and the torrid heat...I may not survive that. I am thinking of flying to Quebec perhaps...or taking an Alaskan cruise. I'll have to check. All I know is I want to have a fun summer seeing new places to remind me that there's a bigger world outside of Henderson, Nevada. Being here is starting to strangle my spirit. I just need to see different people and different cultures...a new perspective.

I am also getting a bit annoyed that I can't find a way to express myself in a new way. I think I am going to try painting again---perhaps take a painting class at the local art studio. That would be fun. I just need a new project. This empty nest thing is really killing me. I wish it would just pass.

I am also stressed about going to my husband's family reunion. It's never a good experience for me. His family is not very open and have a very fixed idea of how things should be aside from the inside gossip and innuendo thing that has been going on for decades. So it's never pleasant because it seems that everybody wants to compete or out-do each other in all kinds of ways. I hate it. Why can't they all just be happy and get on with loving each other? And why can't they talk to each other? I am perplexed by it all. Of course, I am always the pariah since I never seem to behave the way they want me to behave and I can't do anything right. So I feel like I am always being watched and then criticized...but always in very subtle ways such that you don't really know you've been slammed until later when the bruise starts to form. Now I know why in many family reunions, there will always be someone who will show up slushed. I mean, I want to show up drunk or stoned myself if I could. But I do have some xanax in case I start to panic and I definitely am looking forward to seeing my grandchild and children.

There's a whole list of things I'm worried about but I think it's just an off-shoot of Hannah leaving for college...different corollaries just pop up because of that and my mind begins to wander.

BROWN BAGS AND SANDWICHES

I ran out of brown bags for packing Hannah's lunches and so I had to run to the grocery store to get some supplies. I had a short list and so I was hurrying along the aisles filling my cart with sundry items.

The brown bags were in the bottom shelf as usual and I was suddenly jarred by the thickness of the pack. 100 paper sacks. Then it hit me. It was a surge of emotion that suddenly paralyzed me. 100 paper sacks. 100 lunches. But I only need about 20. I only have about 20 more lunches to make. My chest seemed to explode and I had to catch my breath in order to stop the tears from bursting out of me. In 4 short weeks, I don't ever have to pack a lunch for any child. Ever again. Not in the same way.

I am glad that those early mornings were happy ones. It has been a privilege to serve my children in so many different ways.

I passed by the high school just to breath in the air there. I will never have children in high school again. No more band practice, no orchestra, no jazz band. Saturday will be the last prom I'll ever see with any of my children in it. There will be no friends hanging around my house anymore making noise, playing DDR or laughing. There will be no more shopping for school supplies or finding that perfect outfit for a dance or an event. I looked at the high school one last time and a sinking feeling came over me. I am closing a door. But this time, it's permanent. I will be an empty-nester.

This is all happening too fast. I still remember when I had four children running around. I still remember their smell, their soft skin against my cheek. I still remember when they used to bite me when they were teething and how they made me laugh. I still remember stepping on legos. That was brutal on bare feet. How I wish I can step on one again.

I am beset with a gnawing feeling of fear and sadness. I feel so overwhelmed. All I've been for 26 years is a full-time mother. My work is done and I don't know what to do now. I mean, I know there is much to look forward to but it's just nothing compared to being needed by the ones I love---my flesh, my blood, the finest parts of me. My children.

I slowly place the 100 paper bags in a kitchen drawer. I am tempted to throw it all away leaving only 20 to use in the coming days. I don't want to be reminded of empty days. I just want new ones.

If only I didn't have to buy brown paper bags.

HITTING THE MIDLIFE CRISIS

I haven't been sleeping lately. I find that I am wide awake all night with music in my head. Last night, I finally just got up, ambled down the stairs and grabbed my guitar. I don't remember being that impassioned about playing the guitar since... well, since 1978. It's so strange. There was a time when I slept, ate, thought and breathed guitar. I'd play all day and then late into the night. When I got married and immediately had my two boys who were born the same year, I had made a decision to put it down. In retrospect, I gave up a lot of the things I loved to do when I became a mother. I know it's really not necessary but I did. I think I was in way over my head. I was simply overwhelmed.

Adjusting to life as a wife and mother in Provo, Utah can be likened to being a frog slowly being boiled to death. They don't know they're being boiled to death. They simply get used to the rising temperature and before they know it, they're dead. While that analogy is, in fact, a myth because frogs will jump and try to escape when the water gets too warm for their comfort, this myth nevertheless, described my predicament. I had no idea that I was slowly being strangled until one day, I tried to breath and couldn't.

I was not born into great wealth in the Philippines but certainly, I was born into a long line of the intelligentsia or the intellectual elite. I come from a long generation of artists and math geniuses, gifted musicians and writers. Circumstances that are germane to how most people of my class live in the Philippines are so different from that of Utah. I grew up with maids who picked up after me. We had a laundry woman who came to our house nearly everyday to wash and iron our clothes. We had a driver who reported early in the morning to drive or pick us up to or from our various destinations. If I felt like a cheese omelette, I simply told the maid and within a reasonable amount of time, she'd have it ready on a plate for me. So I had all the time in the world to study, read, develop my talents or skills and simply use my imagination and create without having to worry about whether my room needs dusting or putting things back where they belong. I still can't get into my system that the work I do around here---the things that our servants used to do---are now my job to do. It's demoralizing even if intellectually I know it's not true, but emotionally, I can't catch up. What I deemed to be insignificant, menial work is fodder for competition here. Let's see who can keep house better, decorate better, cook better and iron better. It's so.....banal. And living in Utah, I lost my sense of direction.

In Provo, there is an unspoken expectation regarding how women are supposed to act. I was only too happy to fit in. All wives were expected to stay home and raise their children. They dress a certain way. (Read: drab and sedate.) They can peaches and pears. They sew and show off their quilts. They tole paint. They own a hot glue gun. They don't wear excessive make-up. They have play groups. They can't be sensual. They can't talk to male friends let alone have one. In other words, a woman's worth is directly connected or reduced to superficial aspects. Imagine this: having your worth directly related to how fast or how slow your baby gets potty trained. It's insane. And I was caught up in it. And I coped by getting fat.

These past few days, I noticed a change in me. I think it's because I'm anticipating being alone now---no children to care for. I know no other life than to take care of my children and husband and I find myself back pedaling to try and find me. Me--- the one underneath all the laundry, the dishsoap, the scrubbing, the cooking, the sewing, the crap of running a household full-time. I need to find that person. I have begun a mid-life crisis.

I feel differently lately. I seem to be looking for those things that used to give me pleasure. My guitar, a good book, good friends and suddenly, taking good care of myself. I don't feel guilty about staying away from people who don't see me nor appreciate me. And I only want to be with people who are like me. I feel no need to please others though of course, I don't want to alienate people either. I discovered that I can be pleasant because I don't have to prove anything. Competition bores me. I used to want so many things and didn't have the means to obtain them. Now I have all the resources to get whatever I want, and I don't want anything. I only want to have the best of anything. Mediocrity is annoying. And most of all, I just want to be regular. Metamucil regular.

And so, I am sitting here with my guitar by my side fully motivated to tickle its strings again.

Now if I can only decide between an M-benz or a Beamer. Make that red.

LOST IN TRANSLATION

The first thing I noticed when I arrived in Honolulu, Hawaii just two weeks after my nineteenth birthday, was the smell. It was fresh, clean and exciting. And when I finally cleared customs and the doors opened to the outside, I noticed that everything was clearer and brighter. The skies were bluer, the ocean absolutely bluer...even the leaves on the trees were greener. Everything was crisp and clear.

But clarity was far from what I would use to describe my first foray into the world of Americanisms and culture. I do need to preface this observation by stating that at 19 years old, despite never having the opportunity to see outside of Manila, Philippines, and speaking only English that I learned from school with my thick Philippine accent, my English was impeccable-- that is, that my verbs agreed with my subjects, my vocabulary made me sound intelligent and my knowledge of American culture, adequate. At least that's what I thought. After all, I watched American movies, read American magazines and 0bsessed about American television. I was so wrong.

The first indication that I was woefully handicapped linguistically happened on my third day on US soil and on campus. I was attending a Friday activity when an American-- a nice young man---introduced himself to me. We hit it off magnificently. After the event, he asked me for a date. I was flattered. Of course, I've never actually been on a "date"...an American "date" like on television. Filipinos just don't date the same way and in my home, I wasn't allowed to do so. So sneaking out was de rigueur if you wanted quality alone time with a boy. I was so excited at the prospect of a real "date" with a nice young American.

"You wanna do something tomorrow?"

" You mean, like a 'date'?"

"Yeah!"

"OK! What shall we do?"

"We can take a walk down the beach, talk...maybe watch the submarine races."

"Really? I've never been to a submarine race before."

He was a bit taken aback. I was envisioning being on some look-out point overlooking the ocean and there would be people sitting on beach chairs. The water would be clear and there would be small submarines all lit up under the clear ocean water and we can watch them "race". I imagined banners and hotdog stands. It sounded exciting to me. I was beside myself with enthusiasm.

"I'd love to go watch the submarine race with you!"

He had a bewildered smirk on his face. I thought he thought I was cute. In retrospect, he probably thought I was a dumb oaf...not a good thing for someone like me who was a national science scholar!

Later that night, my roommate told me what a submarine race was and I think I turned all colours of the rainbow.

The date went well but I found him boring so there would be no second date. But I would never forget old Duane of the submarine races.

Which brings to mind another incident.

I was driving around with a boyfriend one day just having a really interesting conversation. We were on Kamehameha highway with the ocean to our left and the beautiful Ko'olau mountain range to our right. He was regaling me with stories about his experiences having lived in Rarotonga though I was hypnotized by the scenery outside and was really not very attentive to his account . Then he said something that perked up my attention:

"Well, Christie, that was all water under the bridge."

So I quickly turned both right and left to look for a bridge. He didn't notice but my mind went somewhere, already confused because I couldn't find the bridge he was talking about. And dang it. I. Wanted. To. See. That. Bridge!

But that's not the worst of it.

I had been dating this one guy who shall be named nameless to protect his ego. He was really very nice and generous and I just wanted to be nice also since there really was no reason to be otherwise. Besides, I was going to Asia for an extented time during the summer which was in a couple of weeks. We went on several dates. Now, it's important to say that again, I was only 19 and he was much older at around 23 or so. During the course of our time together, he began talking about his future and how he wanted to "settle down". Our conversations, though not fully accurate, can be characterized like this:

"I would very much want to settle down perhaps find a house and a new car. What do you think about that?"

"Splendid! That's a great idea!"

"If I bought a new car what color would you prefer?"

"Hmmmm.....green is always a nice color."

"I'd really love to have children as soon as possible."

"That's a great idea too!"

"What do you think about living in Kahuku or Haleiwa?"

"I think those places are great!"

Thus went our conversations throughout those couple of weeks before I left for Japan. Of course, I saw other guys too during those couple of weeks though in retrospect since he wasn't a student, he wouldn't realize that I was still dating other men.

At the end of the Asia tour, he showed up at my house in a brand new green Datsun to ask me if I wanted to go for a drive. I went.

As we were driving, he began to talk about going to a nice spot so he can"ask me properly". Of course, I had no idea what he wanted to ask me and if I had the answer to whatever question he had at that time, I would have been happy to give him the correct response. Plus I knew I could give a lot of good advise about life and such and as long as it had nothing to do with nuclear physics or advanced calculus, I had a lot of answers.

"Will you marry me?"

"Whoa.....what?"

"Will you marry me?"

Stammering, I was almost angry at his audacity.

"You know, I'm only 19 years old and don't plan to get married for a long time."

"What do you mean? You were all for it before you left for Asia."

"What? I don't remember saying that I wanted to marry you nor did that thought ever occur to me!"

After a spew of words from him, I realized he was mad. So I hopped back to the car and asked him to take me home. The drive home was uncomfortable as hell. He was mad and I was confused. And I was being scolded like a 12 year old girl. The nerve!

Lost in translation? Boy did I learn a lot.

And by the way, after watching the submarine races, all these experiences are now water under the bridge. My subjects, genders and verbs still agree, I only have a slight Philippine accent and my vocabulary is much more enhanced with all the cliches, isms and American parlance I dare need. It's all as easy as pie and I can insert a cliche at the drop of a hat. Yeah...whatever floats your boat and whatever tickles your fancy. I am as American as apple pie even if I've been there and done that too.