antecoitus

"Judy Anne Santos?! hindi nga? no c’mon what’s your real name?", my new business acquaintance says after a slightly hysterical almost mocking laugh. I laugh heartily as well, like I have heard this piece of smartass comment for the first time, "I shit you not", says I. And his laughter will slowly die down into bits of snickers. "Really?! I’m sorry, it’s just.. you know", says he. God, believe me I know. That is all it takes for me to have an instant friend (at least in the Philippines), all I need is to follow it up with another interesting statement.

My name is uncannily similar to that of an actress who makes a living out of generating tears.

Do I like it? I used to loathe having it during my first year in college when I had to bear the torture of being called my whole name while walking down a university hall by some classmate from an 80-student class whose name I don’t remember. (Ofcourse he remembers me. My name is not very difficult to forget is it? Especially if the professor decided to say it like it’s the best thing to ever happen in his class is to have a pseudo-celebrity in it). Yeah, I get to be called by my whole name, and mind you, it has to be said several decibels louder than one’s ordinary speaking voice. "Judy Anne Santos, kumusta?" While the others are called Joanne or Patricia, RJ or Jeff. I get to be called Judy Anne Santos, nothing more nothing less. Sometimes my other friends call me by it just to piss me off.

Once during a jeepney ride somebody who I did not know reached for my fare and wittingly said to the driver, "bayad po ni Judy Anne Santos" (wink wink). I smiled but I was imagining throwing him through the windshield. Everyone is a fucking comedian. Apparently he knows me from some big class again, where names usually sink into the abyss after they are called (well, at least considering you look typical).

Or consider this one time when I had to be benchmark as to the teacher’s coolness. The professor smiling at the mention of my name is a sign that he should not be feared because at least he has a sense of humor. I also have to be getting my ID out most of the time to prove that I am indeed who I say I am.

Sometimes I get even though. There was a guy sitting beside me in my sociology class before who I thought would have an aneurism by the way he was clutching his stomach with laughter when the professor did the first roll call. I give him one dagger look but took it back and joined in the joke. Ha ha ha. Then the teacher opens her mouth and says "Edgar Mortiz, o dalawa pala artista natin dito," (Sorry to this old classmate but I just really had to include this). The guy beside me stood up and looked at me. I had tears in my eyes from laughing and I was pointing my finger at him. He sat down eventually after getting his class card, looked at me without a hint of a smile in his face and goes "Buti na lang hindi Vilma pangalan mo kundi love team tayo", then guffawed with me. He did not become a close friend but he sure gave me one good story to tell.

Yeah,yeah it may not be fun all the time. Sometimes I get so tired of being asked where Piolo is or what my last cry stint has been or how I lost so much weight. But honestly, it can be rewarding.

Maybe I’m not really so tired of it. At least it has pushed my patience level to new heights. I may even have enjoyed the fact that when I get to meet someone I do not have to try very hard to think of the first subject of an inevitable small talk. I do not have to make it so difficult for them to start a conversation with me either. After a while I have gotten used to this unusual attention. With a little charm and a little humor, I have learned to get by with my name. I even wondered if I could be successful if I ran in the university student council (only I did not like the way things were run there, the elections and the parties and all the pretense, oh the pretense - my opinion, sorry if I hurt anyone).

In a way it has become fun even. I was running late one time on my way to the airport, I came in 5 minutes after the baggage check in deadline. They waited for me because my friend told them that Judy Anne was coming. They knew that I was not the actress but nonetheless amused by it, they were a little bit more patient. I made my flight.

We all have this little handicaps which may, in a lot of different situations be our best asset and advantage. It may be a big mole on your face or an extra finger. What I have learned is that people won’t think you’re any different (special maybe), unless you do. With a little humor, a lot of patience and understanding that people notice that which is different, you will pull through without having to give yourself a a major headache every three seconds. To give attention to that which is out of the ordinary is natural. Self-pity is man-made. Siguro nga totoo, sa buhay, ang pikon, talo.

This entry was posted on Friday, December 2nd, 2005 at 6:25 pm and is filed under live and get entertained (issues). You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.