Thursday, December 29, 2005
Friday, November 25, 2005
if reality can be fiction, this is it
He ended it on the 15th of October, but all endings are really beginnings in hindsight.
Have you ever noticed how one realizes that the little mundane things that would have been dismissed as trivial, turns out to be the first sign, of the many signs soon after?
If distance could be measured by space and time, mine begun on my sister’s 18th birthday.
First, you begin to notice that the conversations are more restrained; that there is less enthusiasm in the voice than the usual. Intuition tells you something is brewing, but you give yourself the excuse that he’s just probably tired or you’re just “thinking too much”.
You invited him earlier on, he says yes. Asks about the menu and you answer with a smile. Then as the day nears, he starts making excuses. He had to be with Popeye or he was asked to do errands again and again. Then on the day itself, he makes an excuse about a phone breaking down. You take it all in stride. Convincing you that this is not the day, nor the time to make a fuss about a little thing. You meet up outside your house. He looks at you. Distantly. You expect a kiss. Nothing. A peck? Dream on.
So you start eating. The gang is in the room. Paka is his usual self. You laugh at the jokes but your eyes linger on to him. When everybody’s preoccupied, you come up to him and asks, “Is everything ok?” I wasn’t asking about the food but something, anything…he complains about the weather, but other than that he seems fine eating.
He fiddles with his phone, keeps texting and suddenly it rings. The brother calls. He goes out of the room. Comes back and says he has to go. You look at him and you look the other way. Your friends notice. One says that he should have told his “brother” that he has plans of his own, that this was our day to spend time for each other.
It falls on deaf ears.
Before he leaves he promises to come back. That we’ll go out. I believed him.
Everybody left. The yayas started cleaning up. The birthday celebrant starts opening gifts. Nothing. Suddenly you get a text message and a call telling you that he developed a bad reaction, something about loose bowels. Again, you swallow it, and you move on. Concerned and pissed; but nevertheless, still concerned.
The week starts to be tedious for the both of you. He says he will try to make it up. After you’ve complained that you two seem to be having a long distance affair which shouldn’t be. That you understand that there’s work and school on the week days, and that the weekends should be for us. Reserved. A fact that should have crossed his mind on his own, but I had to remind him that I was getting bored. But I was willing to work the schedule around for him, just please, try to make an effort to want to be with me. He says sorry and says Friday.
Friday came, he rain checked and says Saturday will be good.
Saturday comes. Nothing. No text messages, no phone calls. Ordinarily this would have been ok.
But if you’re with a man who never stops fidgeting with his fucking phone when you’re together and calls people for shit about nothing that actually has nothing to do with him…well, it makes you wonder.
You call his house.
It turns out he’s sick.
Sunday I had a class. Supposedly we were supposed to meet up after lunch. Nothing. I called up his house and the maid says he left early in the morning. In short, I got nothing, no text no call no shit.
I start to think.
Now the worst thing that could happen to a woman is to think. What’s wrong? Is he ok? Did he get into an accident? Is he still alive? What’s wrong?
I told the girls. BG says ga “pamahal mahal na siya”, and that I should not be the one to text or call him for as long as I can. Pasuber.
I followed the advice. But it was exam week and you can’t get anything in my head because HE was all I could think about. Kareen says, I should concentrate on school, on our exams because at the end of this he will still be there but this was our finals. Indi kabayad if you fail any one subject for him.
I did. I tried. But I could not take it anymore. On the 12th I asked BG to call him. The bastard says his line was cut by Globe.
Landline? Phone booths? Your other cell? Something? Helllloooo?
He says he will talk to me when exam ends. That was a bombshell. I knew then and there he was breaking up with me…but at the end of the exams? That was on the 24th! As much as I am a poster child for sarcasm and so-what attitude I knew I wouldn’t be able to wait that long. So BG told him, that he can’t possibly be serious and he should call because I was worried and getting upset….to say the least.
The mumuy called. Lola cried. He said I shouldn’t cry. Hellooooo?
The next day the polite calls came. We talked about…of all things, taxation. Huh!!! And so I gave myself the reprieve that we should see each other on the 15th and talk this through. He said yes.
We were supposed to meet in school. But there was no class. It was raining that afternoon and the girls decided to wait with me in Flow for him. He was supposed to pick me up at seven in RADA. I texted him of where we were.
By quarter to seven I texted Floyd to tell him where we were. Floyd said their exam ended a long time ago and that he and Yo separated already.
Until around 8pm and he answered the phone. His excuse? He forgot the phone in his car. Russhel and Merielle’s reaction? “Yeah right! Si $%#*$#&? He’s making an excuse! Indi mapatihan!”
Hoping against all hope, he finally arrives around 8 or so. Do you know what I remembered when I saw him? It was the look of a man who would rather be somewhere else. So I told him to park in front of Chinos and there we talked.
I promised myself to be patient. To let him speak. In the end it was this: “Protektahan ta ka. Pahuway ta.” I cried. A kiss. A hug. He offered to take me home but all I could say was, “What for?” And it’s true. Being polite for the sake of being polite was never my cup of tea.
Let’s just say it was a long walk. It was also the longest ride home, all the while texting BG and Kareen. Crying on your way home is something I’ll do once in my life. Promise!!
When I got home I put up a brave face. They never knew at home.
When I got into bed I cried so hard it was devastating. I got my reprieve when Merielle texted asked how it all went. I forgot what I answered to her.
The next day was a Sunday so there was moot court class. Ka, Meme and Rush were with me outside the bookstore and there again, I cried.
On the 18th was supposed to be our one year and one month together as a couple. I knew I’d go crazy if I stayed home. BG offered I come over in Pavia in her crib. So I went, with Meme.
I asked a male friend for a male perspective of what “Pahuway” meant. What he said was so true.
I called Paka and I had sense of clarity after I hung up the phone.
I then texted him on the 22nd and on the 23rd to come and meet me after my Succession exam on Monday.
I was told that on the night he said pahuway he was in MO2 at one o’clock in the morning. Days after somebody told me he was in kimwa. It broke my heart and it was like a slap in the face.
Exam ended around 7:30 or 8pm Monday night, I asked BG to carry my books and she said, “Go! Meet him. We’ll wait for you in front of RADA.” I did. I miss called, and he was waiting outside. He drove in the campus and we talked. I asked him what “Pahuway meant.” He explained. And right then and there I knew that this was my slap in the face. The truth I wanted to hear. The truth to help me move on.
Let me explain. The girls were giving me advices the whole time. I listened. But one day, Paka asked me how Yo was, we were in the parking lot. I told him I was dumped by him. The girls said something about him having the nerve. Paka said, “Te ano gid haw? Relationships are a mutual thing. You can’t force one to stay.” And then it hit me. He was right. Whoever said that it was and should be the girl’s prerogative to end relationships? Relationships are a mutual thing. I told the girls that I will not beg, nor hope nor convince him otherwise. It was a decision he made, and I would respect that. And so I did.
Sem break. You know how it is that you complain about the lack of time to do just nothing and not be forced to read another law book or something? Well, this year I was given two weeks or so and the timing never sucked better than this.
I was watching Desperate Housewives a when all of this drama was at its fever pitch and a line caught my attention, “Some of us find love and wish we should have never found it (paraphrasing)”.
Now that it has been four days since we last talked, I realized that I should give myself a gift. I’m going to take the higher road. I’m sure the girls will raise their eyes if they will learn of this but last night, around 10:58pm, I texted Yo for the last time and I said that I wish him well, that though things have not turned out well for us as a couple, I refuse to have him as my enemy. I told him that if he needed anything not to hesitate to call me. I bid him good luck and told him to take care of myself.
After I sent that text message it was liberating! I did not want and I refuse to spend my days blaming him, being angry or crying over him. He did what he conveniently thought what was best for him. Did he consider me at all in his decision? Was our one year together a factor in his decision? Did he weigh in the emotional effect this would have on me? I think not.
But people have to owe up to their decisions. And I refuse to do that for him. He made his. And I have made mine. I DO wish him well. Truly.
Today I finished reading Mitch Albom’s “The Five People You Meet in Heaven,” and I thought it was uncanny that today, after I texted Yo, that I will come across these lines:
“Learn this from me. Holding anger is a poison. It eats you from inside. We think that hating is a weapon that attacks the person who harmed us. But hatred is a curved blade. And the harm we do, we do ourselves.”
“Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that’s all. You can’t see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it.
Life has to end. Love doesn’t.”
Motto for the next one? Love as thou you have never been hurt before.
By God, I will. By hook or by crook, so help me God. Amen.
UPDATE: Still from Desperate Housewives, “….sometimes we have to pick ourselves,” when our knight and shining armor could not....or something to that effect.
Let’s move on.
LATEST: A surprise to know someone was interested…a catch..but there’s a catch…no matter…he’s a keeper just in case…went out and realize there's a whole new world of guys out there…one in particular…still starting….the day is young
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Monday, August 15, 2005
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Saturday, May 28, 2005
No human relation gives one possession in another—every two souls are absolutely different. In friendship or in love, the two side by side raise hands together to find what one cannot reach alone.
I once read a story about racial prejudices. The mother saw how her son instinctively hugged his black nanny upon their first introduction. The Mother remarked how prejudices are learned by children through their parents.
It came back to me when, I was bored one day waiting for my friends to arrive, that I went online and checked my Friendster account. In my long wait, I entered almost every person in my first degree friends---that then I came across Jas’ account and saw a message in one of her pictures. It said “Happiness is a Learned Condition.”
I thought that was a neat statement.
I once thought that if God gave man his free will and enabled man to make choices--- I wondered if my happiness can be something I can will to happen----something tangible that the choice eventually would manifest itself.
If I would want something badly---would it eventually be a reality?
But if a person can have anything she wills---who takes into account the actual making of the choice itself? I mean, should I be careful of what I wish for? Or are our life choices something subconscious that the actual making of a choice is blurred between reality and wishful thinking? Who then should I blame if my choice is misguided? If happiness was a learned condition-----a will-----a conscious choice-----then why the hell is half the people I know have miserable lives, or wanting to live another, or feeling left out, or feeling like they’re living a life they don’t want to live?
Economics? Life choices gone bad? Or is everything as it should be?
Is discontent the most natural of all selfish desires/feelings of man?
Without the theatrics, would our lives be meaningful? When we have fights with our significant other, do we do so because there’s a problem or because sometimes a good argument is better than a seemingly “harmonious” relationship?
I once remarked “That’s boring!”, in surprise and disbelief and even in mockery with a little hint of sarcasm, when a guy friend said that he had never had an “argument” with his girlfriend of six months
With the rate I’m “arguing” and the “dramatics” that my friends witness with my Y0---he (the guy friend) would probably give my boo a medal for sticking up with me. Or is just my tendency to argue and complain a manifestation of my being a spoiled brat that’s honestly acknowledging the bitchiness that is in me? Or was Theatre the career choice I failed to make? Whatever.
If life and happiness was a learned condition----somebody please throw me the guidebook.
But then again, I might just boomerang it back to you. Beyotch!!!
Monday, May 23, 2005
i had a dream recently that when i woke up i had a line in my head...
"I wished that I learned early on in life that insecurity was just a state of mind."
Monday, May 09, 2005
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Two years after graduating from U.P. I finally got the chance to get my diploma. Travelling back to U.P. Miami was interesting---the roads are better (no more craters!!!!) and the houses are getting fancier....now that I have my diploma, the sense that you've made it wasn't there at all.
Still bored and unemployed.
The years are depressing.
Sometimes na lang.
Kung minsan masaya na rin.
You make life work for you or else the psycho wards in this country will be full.
Even my blog is lack luster.
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Friday, January 21, 2005
We also tell the story of our lives in the pictures that stack up in the little forgotten corners of our cabinets. My father one day remarked with great amusement about the hundreds, maybe thousands of pictures that document the stages of our lives. My mother said itwas because he used to ask for pictures when he was away (he’s a seaman).
But if there is something I wish the pictures could do? Capture my mother’s unabashed and unconscious smile...my sister’s emotions reflected in her eyes…my father’s smile…my dogs enthusiasm and kikay dramas…nike’s “queenly gaze”….puma’s “I’m so tired/leave me alone look”…amor’s “I’m hungry/deprivedof food for this hour look”…and bonita’s “look at meI’m cute but when I turn around I’m just a bitch”look…gosh! The pictures that could bring a rush of emotions….hope they’ll come soon!!!