She is naturally a chatter; so from the beginning, we did not have to gauge if we clicked or not. She simply chatted away; and me, being an equal chatterbox when provoked, our impulse to chat with one another was mutual. That's where our friendship stemmed from -- our chatting hours in the office. Busy or not, when the impulse was between us, no office rule or the most daring hush-hush from other officemates silenced our area.
Thinking about it now, I am quite amazed how the small perimeters that bounded us to our desks contained the life that Daisy had.
At 23, she was already living on her own. Though in many countries, 23 is already too late to live independently from one's parents, here in the Philippines, that's too early, or altogether unusual, since every singleton traditionally stays with their parents and sleep in the same bed they used to pee in until they get married. But Daisy, as she described herself, was never a sticker to the rules.
While I talked about a childhood of dressing up Barbie Dolls and talking to myself, Daisy only remembers that she was out of the house playing street games with the boys in the neighborhood more than she was in it, that her mother had to remind her several times that she was a girl so she had to learn to stay put (a tireless reminder that always fell on deaf ears). She does not remember ever owning a Barbie Doll, but she can talk with vivid images racing barefoot and climbing mango trees with her friends.
Her rebellion appears to be inborn, but it only started to alarm her parents when she reached high school. As Daisy shared to me, in her entire school life, she was never the good student. If her teachers knew her at all, it was because she frequently cut classes or missed it entirely. She never really enjoyed school, she said, which surprised me because Daisy speaks with insight and profundity. Later, I would understand that this was not out of formal learning, but the experiences she hoarded from a life of unparalleled free-spiritedness.
Growing up, she would defy more house rules than her parents thought she would dare to. She would tell me about taking extra clothes with her to school so she need not go home to change out of her school uniform for afternoon disco. She would go home on school nights past 9, to her father's questioning and mother's reprimands. That did not change anything. Throughout her teenage years, it wouldn't be her rebel streaks that would grow out of this persistent evening episode, but her parents admonitions.
At 19, she put her study on hold and spent 6 months in Vietnam multi-working as DJ, bartender, and bar and restaurant consultant of some sort. Even before she left, she was already juggling work in Cebu's top clubs and her Interior Design studies at the University of the San Carlos. It was her choice to earn on the side as it gave her a measure of independence.
Her mind was set on that school can wait, while opportunities cannot. In her early 20s, she lived in Germany for a month with the family of her German ex-boyfriend. This boyfriend asked for her hand in marriage. Though she liked him very much, she said no, packed up, and returned to the Philippines.
Upon the prodding of her father, she went back to school and finished her degree. However, this did not cure her of restlessness and sense of misadventure. She moved out of her parents' house and shared an apartment with a French woman (who has long since moved back to France but continues to be a good friend to this day). She would dress up in boots (before anybody else in this tropical island had the guts to), short skirt, and a cowboy hat to meet and party with her friends. Once, she talked about the few solo expeditions she made to Vudu without planning with her friends.
"Unya Daise, kinsa imo kauban didto?" I asked her.
"Kung naay kaila, muoban ko nila," she replied.
"If wala?"
"Then I make new friends!" She answered.
Indeed, Daisy's circles of friends are so wide and varied that despite the size and population of Cebu City, I actually know a few people she also knows. Another colleague, Setty, hangs out with a lot of people from the artsy-fartsy whom Daisy hangs out with as well. Even our boss calls a lot of friends from the design and high society that Daisy calls hers as well. I am friendly by convenience, but Daisy is sociable by any terms.
Her circle of foreigner friends is of United Colors of Benetton-caliber. She had a French housemate. She hangs out with Italian business owners and managers and Spanish designers (mostly from the manufacturing industry set). She once dated a Palestinian expatriate, an Indian businessman, and a Spanish immigrant. She now lives with a New-York born and raised Honduran who taught her jazz, music history, fine cuisine, South American cultures, and foreign policies. Most importantly, he taught her to see things from the world's point of view.
She met Walter [the Honduran] on her job as furniture designer. She got her job with Kenneth Cobonpue while working freelance as furniture designer. If she's kept still, she is an Interior and Furniture designer. But Daisy, in her free spirit, is a jill of all trades and a woman of the world -- though she hasn't really been around the world.
Her natural rebel did not survive 30+ years because the world was charming to her. Daisy did not have it easy, emotionally, physically, and financially. But this story would not have the tone of confidence and strength if long before, she had already been defeated. There were many instances that her story would have gone towards that direction: when she ran out of money, when her relationship with troublesome men got her in even more trouble, when juggling work, health, dependent parents and brother, and generally, life with its complicities with love, money, and fate pushed her closer to her limit.
I've seen Daisy cry and belt her troubles out. What amazes me is she does this with dignity. In the 20 months we were seatmates, I've never seen her in a bad hair day and bad dress day. She cried over a seemingly perfect relationship gone awry, but she did so with a pretty white top, pinstriped shorts, and creamy pair of wedges. A hotel had mistaken her for peculation, but she pulled herself out of the confusion in a colorful dress. She did not cower, run, and hide from a single trouble. She confronted it all head-on, but with enough humility to accept that her past experiences may have qualified her as a jill of many trades, but honed her a master at none.
If there was one thing that her rebellious youth taught her to perfect, it's how to drown out the loads of "I told you so" and walk on with, "What won't kill you will only make you stronger." Now Daisy is no longer the rebel that she used to be, a gift of age and maturity to her parents and to herself. She continues to live by the moment but with much consideration of the future. Recently, she opened her fashion and accessories boutique called D + F Lifestyle Shop in ML Quezon Street, Cabancalan, Mandaue City.
She is still juggling, but she's long grown out of her misadventures. It's an unanticipated ending to the carefree life she once led, but the realization that her spirit is no longer free has brought her salvation, and the world, a new woman who sticks to the rules, but her own.
~~~
Talking to Daisy has really been one of the most interesting use of my free time in the office. Sometimes, our unrelenting arguments would crash against each other's and end in a 1x1/2 meter cold war. But in all cases, we would work it out over a mention of jazz music, a story from Walter's days in Louisiana, or hear each other's say on a piece of news.
One skill from her youth that Daisy never lost is partying. She is careful now though; foregoing liquor so she can take medicines for her allergies.
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