I am alive again! =) A few years ago I killed myself through cyber suicide. Now what have I been doing in my cave all these time?
Studying.
I was studying about happiness. About power. About love. About God. And mostly about myself.
I got me a cute classmate named Yumpkin (a shih tzu - it's her 9th month today). Though I tend to think that she got herself promoted to teacher while I have been permanently designated to being her student.
What can you learn from a silly, playful puppy? A lot.
A lot about cleaning after her mess. About forgiveness after she ate 4 pairs of your best shoes and the TV wire. About patience when she wakes you up in the middle of your sleep so you can take her downstairs to pee or poop. About taking care of another creature whose life is wholly dependent on you. About loving as you forgive her little mistakes for being too young and too dependent on you.
I learned about power as she obeys me when I say "Stay!" and in the same way I also learned to be obedient. I learned about a God who was kind enough to send me a dose of laughter to get me through my days through Yumpkin. That happiness is a choice.
That I am thankful I am me, for despite all things, I am still capable of love and kindness.
When you're with me baby, the skies will be blue for all my life... :-)
The lady next to me was singing this beautiful song. Always, when I am about to give up, the universe gives me a little nudge to remind me to have faith.
I will be writing again here soon as I just bought a new laptop! Soon I will get internet connection at home, but for now, I will be content sitting at Starbucks drinking tea, while posting my life on the web.
This movie reminds me of Mama and Papa. I have written so much but not much about them.
I just can't find the words. It always makes me cry when I think of them. I miss them a lot.
I'd like to tell them that each day I try to be someone whom they can be proud of.
When we are young, we need our parents to take care of us, but when we are older, we need them for support as we try to find our place in this world.
I like the part when he saw his daughter again. I was never really as close to Papa as my Ate Karen was. We always get into an argument because he was so strict with me. I thought it was just favoritism, why he was always so lenient with Ate Karen, but now I understand that he was like that to me because I needed it.
I was naive and still gullible most of the time you know. He knows that although I am a bitch I am just a child.
He likes surprises, and I got this from him.
He was very thoughtful and we used to plan surprises for Mama a lot of times when I was in High School. Sometimes, we'd buy a gift or a card, or sometimes we cook up some tasty dish and we fetch Mama from school for lunch.
My bestfriend just made me cry today. I don't like crying. It smudges my mascara, swells up my nose, and makes my eyes smaller than they already are that I can barely see the letters on my keyboard.
But this is not about me. Yet in some ways it is--as it is about everybody. And from a philosophical standpoint, I know it's no use discussing it. Who ever invented love needs to be put in jail for serious criminal offenses. But you cannot put God in jail, can you?
Do I really think that watching my missed episodes of Full House on youtube will give me the answer? She is expecting answers from me, but I could only cry with her. I think this is what parents were created for-- for you to ask them on things like this. They've been there, done that and screwed it up a hundred times. I am sure they do not want us to count our mistakes in the same way that they did. They were once just like us.
LOST.
When I was in kindergarten, which was the year before I became a brat, there were times when I got pushed around by my classmates who were a year older than me. And when I tell my parents about this, they start to shout and threat me that they'd kill them. And now I bet they're just kidding,but to me back then, they were real threats. So most of the time, I'd keep mum about it, until I learned how to make my classmates cry. There are some things you learn about survival when you're little, but you either forget about it or you just grow up that you realize it's better to get hurt than to hurt people.
As you grow older your threshold for pain increases and you learn to shrug it off as though it doesn't hurt. But you'd get hurt a lot more as you wait for the people around you to grow up too. I've used the word hurt a lot but it doesn't even compare to the number of times we've felt it, right? It justifies the redundancy.
It's the disadvantage of being the bully first. You'll also be pushed around by people you first bullied around when you have had enough of being the bully. When I use the word bully here, I need not explain that I use it figuratively. In the end, what comes around, indeed goes around.
If Mama and Papa were alive today, they've probably been in jail already for killing or at least attempting to kill or threaten all of the people who hurt us. Losing someone you love can shake us to our very core, and yet it is embarrassing to talk about it.
My best friend’s parents are as loving and protective as any parent would be. She wouldn't open up to them for the exact same reason that I would tell Mama and Papa about everything except for my heartaches.
But what I'd like to tell her is that there are no right nor wrong decisions. I don't want her to think that I don't care for her, but that's just the truth. Specially in love. I've learned by far that you cannot play smart with it.
When I was in college, I got a 4.0 in Math 11, and I partly blamed my neighbors who were drinking that night. Not that they were so loud, but because I eavesdropped in their conversation that I wasn't able to concentrate on Algebra. I'd have to admit though that though I failed in my Math Finals because of them, they gave me something to think about which would eventually help me deal with my adult dilemmas later on.
One guy was having problems because his childhood sweetheart suddenly made an appearance and though he's still not yet "married" with his girlfriend, they now have kids. The oldest man in the group said that he should choose the one who seemed like the air to him. She who doesn't give him anything, and yet fills him with life.
For a long time I held on to this belief, but as I grow older, I realize that if you really get to know a person, this feeling which I thought was exclusive to one person, is not so.
You'll feel this to anyone you fall in love with during the first stages of love. And it fades through time. If people would think of love this way, there would always be pain, and our search would be endless. One relationship after another. For the truth is that true love is always a decision and never solely the wonderful feeling we thought it to be. Sadly, it fades, but if you still want to love the person and treasure him or her for the meaning he or she has brought into your life, then that I can say is what true love is.
Do you really think that your parents still feel romantic towards each other? But in some ways they love each other deeply, right? It is the disadvantage of being young. At our age, not many of our peers are ready for this kind of love no matter how mature we deem ourselves to be.
As I was in the MRT station on my way to the office earlier, I was the only woman in the coach crowded with men. And I tried to observe them. They seem neat, okay. Shirts tucked clean. Pants are ironed. Hair washed and combed. You would have to thank their mothers for teaching them this. At least they look clean. But in truth, I pity them in as much as I envy them.
I feel sad that they cannot love as deeply as women, no matter how much they claim to be. Women are naturally emotional and that's why it doesn't come as a surprise to us that we always find ourselves at a losing end when it comes to relationships. It is both a gift and a curse that we are created to be this beautiful, sensitive and fragile creature. Most precious things are fragile indeed.
Yet, I envy men sometimes. Most of them can be happy with just sex and alcohol. Though when I say this, I am not generalizing. I'd have to make an exception for someone I personally know. But this doesn't go to say that men are bad. I think they just know how to live more than we do. Sometimes I feel that it's unfair that we feel so much. In my next lifetime, I definitely do not want to be a woman again.
As for my best friend, she just have to let go. If someone doesn't love you anymore, you shouldn't keep him to yourself. It's gonna be hard for her. They've been together for more than 6 years. But women need to understand men as they are and not as we want them to be.
It's sad, but it's true. ****, I cannot help but cry for you.
Whether you decide to wait for him or let go, I know that you'd definitely cry a lot longer than I wish you would.
If I were Santa Claus, or someone powerful and magical, even if it means that I don't even get a chance to be with the one I love, I'll make sure that there will be no goodbyes.
O ayan, papaka-self centered muna ako at kakareerin ko lahat ng quiz dun! hehe
Pero totoo to. Type A konti, pero maski parang carefree ako, ang totoo mdami ako plano at pangarap sa buhay. Charing! Anong kalokohan ito?! :-) Gusto mo mag-business? Idamay mo ko, at idadamay kita sa mga raket ko. ;-) Life is good!
I got this from this site:http://www.blogthings.com/howhappyareyouquiz/
After all I went through this surprises me. I guess it's just a matter of time and perspective. I am still the type of person whom I know I'd like to spend the rest my life with--and I know a lot of people think of me this way too.
Labing isang taon ko syang hinintay. Yun pala, it will only take him six pesos sa text to break my heart. Six pesos. Anim na text. Di na daw nya ako mahal.
Masakit? hindi... hindi na nga ako makaramdam. Parang namanhid na ako. Nasanay na. Namimimiss ko nga nung bata pa ako. Madalas kase ako mapalo kase maldita talaga ako maski nung maliit pa lang. Gusto ko maramdaman yung pisikal na sakit at umiyak ng malakas sa bawat palo ng tsinelas. Si Papa nun galit na galit. Ayaw nya kase na umiiyak kami. Gusto nya strong kami. Pero pag sinasabi nyang "sige..iyak pa, me palo ka pa!" lalo kong lalakasan ang iyak ko. Sobrang tigas talaga ng ulo ko. Namimiss ko si Papa, sana andito pa sya at pwede pa ako sermonan. Swerte na lang ng ex ko wala na siya, for sure iha-hunt siya talaga nun.
Bakit mo kase minahal?! Yan ang sabi sakin ng dalawa kong kaibigang guys na gago. Pwede bang hindi. Masyado kase akong totoo--masyadong vulnerable.
Parang usapang lasing na to ah! :-) ayoko na nga. libre nyo ko ng tequila, para mas masaya.
Eto ang walang sense na blog, pero alam ko me makakarelate din dito pag nabasa nyo.
Puntahan nyo na lang to :www.lettersforjosephus.blogspot.com kung gusto nyo magusyoso.
For now, feeling jaded talaga. But I know in time "when that which is perfect is come. Then that which is in part shall be done away. For now we see through a glass darkly, but then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know fully, even as also I am fully known"
Her only dream was the roof. How I wish mine could be that simple. And though I have done my best to protect her like a baby, I couldn't beat her cunning ways of sneaking past me so she could go where she wants and whenever she wants it; no matter how bad the weather is and not even if my sister and I had just spent almost an hour grappling with her just to give her a bath and blow-dry her fur. She was the joy and the ultimate stinking master of the house.
I was in the office when I got a call from my cousin saying that my cat just died. Some people who haven't had pets couldn't understand why petowners cry when their pets die. The grief is no different to what you feel when you lose a person. I think of the times I hugged her when I was alone and scared. The times I played with her like a child again, and during those times when dough was short and I ate instant noodles just so I could buy her cat food because she wouldn't eat anything other than that.
She's has definitely gotten much farther than the roof and we miss her terribly--Sipao Tubby Elf.
I am two years young for it...but *sigh* well this could be it.
My fucking customers are waiting for me! That's what my mind tells me each morning, so even if I get up early, I come late for work...for no less than 2-3 hours. And it's not good. But it feels good. They say I'm astig coz I don't care. That I don't care that I get a warning for my schedule adherence. That I don't care if I violate company rules on proper call-in procedure and attendance. That I don't care if I come late and sit beside my supervisor.
But hell they're wrong. I care a lot. About Filipinos, about the economy, about politics, about the future, about racism and a lot about the things I cannot do anything about. It's sad that as much as I want things to change I just can't. It's beyond my control.
My shift starts at 8:30 am. I am up at 6 am and was holding my shampoo in my right hand, when I decided that there is no need to hurry. I dozed off with a smile thinking that my yelling customers are waiting on the queue for a technical person to help them with their computer. Why don't they just throw it out of the window. That would be a lot simpler and easier.
Once the call gets into your CMS (phone) be ready to have your ears or head bitten off. Let them wait. Let them wait for the "brown monkey" (although I am far from being brown)to pick up. Let the brown monkey hear their rants. Let the brown monkey swallow the insult that comes from being born into a third world country. They will eat your soul up like a demon and that's exactly what the management wants--to sit mum and accept every bitter comment about your nationality and to reply with the sweetest and most polite tone you could manage. When all I wanted to do was scream "PUTANG INA MO!GAGO KA PALA EH! ISA KANG MALAKING TAE!." That's how my company makes money to pay me so I can pay my bills....
How they measure your intelligence based on your origin. I bet more than half of the assholes I get to speak with everyday did not even finish college nor high school. It's all about the money. If I were an English born, with Harry Potter-accent would they treat me the way they're treating me.
Where did it all start? Why did Marcos hoard all the money?! Why did Erap get into so much trouble?! Why did Arroyo admit that she talked with Garcilliano? Now, not only the whites are judging the Filipinos based on our leaders. They're probably thinking that the Filipinos are stupid for choosing these leaders.
*ring...ring* that's the landline, as it breaks the silence downstairs. I hear it, but I don't give a damn. *ring...ring* that's my cellphone. "Hi Lon...me pasok ka today, right?" that's my supervisor in his calm voice. My conscience bugged me. I have the most patient, and the most understanding boss in the planet. "Opo...papasok na po..." my voice sounds sleepy. I told him I am not feeling well. I don't lie to him. If I don't feel like going to work, I tell him straight out. And today, it's true that I am not feeling well...my soul is sick. I realized it's an hour past my shift. I slept a few minutes after that...woke up and screamed "AYOKO NG PUMASOK!" In my mind there is a mocking voice singing "your customers are waiting..get up girl...the customers are waiting..get up."
I dragged myself down the stairs, picked up my cat, and stared into the wall in the kitchen. After a while of knowing that a blonde somewhere in the US is losing his/her patience on the queue in the phone line in the office,probably screaming at their kids right now or tapping the counter looking aggravated with their brows knitted together. I smiled and went for the bathroom and took a long bath, playing with the faucet and making bubbles..."the ****** ********* are waiting...." And I'll make them wait some more.
I guess it's what they call quarter-life crisis. Although I am a just a few years short for that. But it's the same anyway. I get to think about my values. (Whew! Like I never thought of it before). About my priorities, about work, about what i intend to do, nd what I really wanted to do. Is this what I have always dreamed of? I get paid, but I am not happy. I never thought I felt this much about being a Filipino. Never had I thought that Nationalism would strike me at this age...why didn't it come when I was in college? Maybe it's because I didn't care back then..because I had no reason to care.
The background music plays..Why Does it Always Rain on Me? by Coldplay. And I see myself, like on a video. Top view. Medium shot. My hands are typing fast on the keyboard as though time is pushing me and the safety of the planet depends on it.... My Life.
One thing's for sure, I don't want to spend my life this anymore. It's like a new revolution. But I am not Rizal. I don't even have enough money. I may not even have the courage.
I am not sure if I deserve these thoughts...coz there's nothing much I can do about it.
Sometimes, it surprises you when people change. But what we don't know is that sometimes, people change not just on their own but because you pushed them. There was a story I read before about a crooked tree, that grew the way it was because it was following the sun.... I am not sure if I would like to grow like that.
Yesterday, I flew a kite, ran across a bamboo bridge, went under slides and played seesaw with James, my 7-year old nephew. It was something that I haven't done in years. Then later we went to Rizal park, took a stroll, fed the birds and ate hotdog sandwich. At around 8 pm I was walking along Taft avenue with an exhausted child on my back and with sore toes.
I have always wanted to do just that. It's good that he is spending his vacation at our house so I'd always have a kid to tag along with me and provide as an excuse for me play around like a kid again.
He was so happy and proud. He wanted to watch Star Wars 3, but later in the day, he admitted to me that it was much better that we didn't because he enjoyed the park better. But the highlight of the day is when we tried to fly a kite. He was pressing me to buy a kite early on, and I am just dying to fly one as well . So we managed to buy one funny looking red kite with orange tails. It's so cute, it looked like a giant red tilapia with humongous eyes. We have been trying to fly it for hours and four guys already tried to help us. It was not until it has gone dark already when James, just sat on the ground--cross-legged, and stared at me as I throw it into the air and watch it crash. He is exhausted, but his Tita wouldn't stop. There I was, running in circles like a dog chasing its tail.
I was whispering to the kite as though it is love. Begging it to fly. But it wouldn't. Then a fourth guy approached me and helped me fly it for the nth time. It wouldn't fly not because of the wind, nor because we might be doing something wrong. He advised me to bring it back to the sidewalk stall where we bought and have it changed. I was hesitant because I don't want to start up an argument with the kite vendor if I say that her kite doesn't fly. I don't want her to think that it was just that I don't know how to fly it. Which is half true.
But I was persuaded that there's something wrong with it. It's too heavy to soar, like it's carrying some grudge. I just told my nephew that if they wouldn't change it then, we'd just leave it there since we wouldn't have any use for it. And he agrees without any of his usual complains.
Luckily 'the kite lady' agreed to change it. And shortly after that we found ourselves running in front of the Quirino grandstand, shouting with joy "Yahooohoo!" It was dark but we could still see our kite flying higher than any of the kites there.
I realized that if a kite doesn't want to fly, the best you can do is find one that does. Watch it soar and enjoy!
Thank you James for such a great day! I promise we'll go out again.
Sigh... I should be happy. I am not saying I am sad though. It's just that I have been thinking since last night. It scares me because I am falling out. I ripped out the back pages of my notebook where I have some letters for him and hid it in the back pocket of my calendar. I don't think I am making any sense out of my life by thinking of him and hoping that romance will bloom again between us.
Two nights ago, I dreamed of a river, it was running dry and the riverbed is showing some green patches. I was walking on the rocky bottom. The other night, it was the shore with lots of dead fish. There was one fish that's burried in the wet sand. It's dying and I prodded it with a stick to the sea, where it seemed to revive under a rock.
At one point, I know I believed that love is a mighty river. Once you get caught up in it's rush, you can only do so much. But the river has gone dry. He doesn't make me smile anymore. And I don't think of him as much as I used to. He probably doesn't love me anymore anyway, so I shouldn't worry. I have never felt so resolute. And never have I not cared until today. Guess, I still care a little, else I wouldn't be writing this.
The book of angels says that when two people fall in love, what they see from above are two bright lights that are glowing from within. And when it dies, the lights dim slowly. And we shouldn't try to cling on to it if it fades out. They say doubt and fear are two things that causes the lights to dim. Guess, I feared and doubted so much. But I can't undo the damage, much less pretend.
So much for now. I love you. But I just don't love you today. I hope I don't feel this way tomorrow.
I imagine myself moving in runescape (online computer game- www.runescape.com), and after a deadly battle with the recurring issues in my head, the pressure at work, and the mess at home I went to the general store a.k.a Seattles Best for one javanilla and blueberry cheesecake. I am keeping my fingers crossed that it will give me enough endorphins to be able to "Battle Evil."
After a while. I realized I wanted some roasted chicken. However, I am too far from the farm in Lumbridge (Kenny Roger's at Glorietta) as I am somewhere under the wizard's tower (PS office) mining rune essence. Dead rat's meat would do for now (1 piece chicken meal at McDo)---eewww!
A moment later--I had my QA session. Looks like a ZERO. It's a losing battle at the very start. The deadly scorpion pricked my ankle. And I lay flat on the ground wishing my body would be teleported to the privacy of my room where I'd stare at the cieling and pretend that I am dead.
I realized that most of the time I have always pretended I am dead. Pretended that I don't care. Cared so much in not feeling. But have always felt nonetheless.
I wish I could exist like Purpleowyn, my character in the game. With purple skirt and hair, a mirthil shield and a fire staff, she could wander into the dark woods and battle the wizards alone. She just gotta find her wings somewhere hidden in a cloud of dream dusts, and she'd be perfect. All set without cares.
______
note: gp is the currency in runescape, 1gp=1 peso
I went into peyups.com and read an article about blogging. There was this one contributor who sort of said that blogging is too mundane. That most bloggers are anymous, voiceless and senseless writers who just want to write about themselves.
He said that " all these self-glorifications and me-I-centric musings are nothing but pure masturbation and ego-massage. Such bloggers are then reduced to just another senseless writer – anonymous and voiceless. " And I say, who cares?
His words were big. His thoughts--idealistic. He wanted people to write about ideas that can help change the world. Not bad. But we all know we can't change it.
Blogging is mundane. But are we not? That's the essence of our being. If one is not mundane then one had better go back to the planet where one belongs.
I admire the way he strongly expressed his opinion and his ability to elicit some response. But other than that, it's just a blatant egoistic display of the writer's idea--not entirely about blogging but of how he sees himself as an observer... and the rest of us were reduced to mere subjects he can just use to display his "refined taste of web-based literature. "
It makes me want to puke on his face.
Blogging is about angst. About bullshit experiences. It's about our crushes, about what happend in the bus, about the person beside you. About typographical errors and wrong vocabulary. It's for everyone to see. It shouldn't be sanitized. It is an art in itself. It is a journal of people living in this age. It is a mirror of life, and it can't get any better, nor should be anything other that what it is now.
I can trace the vein of his thoughts. I've been there before. But ideas such such as these shouldn't be used in any way to condemn others in obvious pretense of a cause. Intellectuals like him are the ones who are selfish. Egocentric mortals who decry their own mundanity by critcizing others.
People write about themselves and the itsy bitsy nonsense of everyday living because in reality, that' s all that we have. It is alright to dream for change, but I guess it's more important to just focus on what we have and on what we are now. In life, I've so far learned that you can't force people to be what they were yesterday or what you want them to be a few years from now. You just take them as they are, appreciate and love them for the eternal moment, which is the only real thing.
It is rare for me to come upon noble thoughts that keep my tummy churning each night knowing that it's something worthy to pen and publish. However it is more rare for me to just go back to what I was before. When I couldn't find anything "worthy" to write about other than my daily rigmarole. Those blogs are precious--the ones written because the person doesn't know as much. Hasn't been moved as much. Hasn't felt as much.
Just as nobody lives for himself alone, nobody writes for others without having to mean it for himself or without having to take something from it. Everyone writes for themselves and for others at the same time. Taking from his definition then, humanity has never written anything with sense. We are all senseless writers.
