Can we still be friends? does not apply to you

I hate to admit it, but it's true. I realized it while it was happening, but I could not stop it. I am still very careful with LL's feelings. Again, I will not ask myself why. We were chatting and he was rambling on and on about me leaving without notice and, once again, being upset with him. Unlike with Schoolboy and Fb, I didn't cut him off and I wasn't as blunt. I didn't tell him outright that I found no pleasure in seeing him again. I gave the common ex-girl friend excuse- I was busy, but at least we saw each other twice. Ok, that isn't so common. The point is I wasn't my mean, heartless self.

But I digress.

CBF and I discussed this and she suggested that I might not be over him like I thought or was hoping to be. There's nothing I can say about this. There is no point in justifying the irony of this tattered portion of my life.

Seeing his name on my YM isn't as easy as I thought it would be, especially when I'm online for more than three hours and he doesn't even say hello. Maybe it's because I secretly hope that he will soon realize he no longer has me at his whim. This is the secret hope of all ex-girl friends that have moved on. We're not really supposed to care, but our egos crave the victory of seeing you grovel. We want you to try and indirectly use your charms to test the waters, only to discover that the river is dry.

So much for trying to be friends. I don't think, at this point, it is possible. I cannot erase 10 years. I cannot pretend that I wasn't selfish with his love for almost half my life, nor can I deny the thousand endless nights of full moons and acid tears. I will keep these memories close to remind me never to return to that place again- where I walked with him in solitude, a slave to the senses.

LL, forgive me for this fault. Forgive me for not being able to find the mark where past pains are forgotten and present healing begins. Forgive me for not being like you, the actor that you are. You are magnificent. I envy your talent of hollow laughter on cue and deception at its finest. I will continue on, no baggage at hand. And I will cherish the good and the bad, as I promised again and again on the many days we vowed to be one.

Forever only exists in the grays, where my dreams are clouded by your premonition.

May you forever exist where I cannot reach you.

There's no such as thing as bad luck, only shitty moments

...I learned that it's not good to walk in 3 1/2" CFM, pointy-toe boots at work.

...I also learned never to hang a pen on the company badge that hangs on my chest because it is possible to stain one's new camel-colored pants while sitting down. (Grr)

...A week of being a sloth and going to the gym but once will cause me to gain 6 lbs.

...I am chatting with LL right now. I had the feeling he was going to be online before I logged on. I will not ask myself why there is a familiar pinch in my chest- the kind where a memory turns into feeling. I know the reason. It is residue. I knew that it would be there. That is why I decided to finally chat with him. To get it over with. To brush the dust off my shoulder.

...I'm tired.

...Today is a long day.

The weekend

Ok, so, the past two days, I was busy (being a sloth). I took Mom shopping and ended up spending loads on myself. That ain't too bad. I need the stuff anyway.

On to more mundane things:

I dreamt about LL's family this weekend, which was probably a premonition of the e-mail that I received from him today. I've forwarded it already, but I still have it in my inbox. I'm keeping it there for a while, because he hasn't e-mailed me in so long and I like seeing his name. No, I don't love him anymore. No, I don't miss him. And even if I did, I wouldn't admit it. So, shoot me!

I took Ulan and Ani out on Saturday. They're both in the same boat, both broken-hearted. We were having a pretty good dinner, discussing the intricacies of broken-down relationships, when Ulan's cousin called. She suggested that she should stay at the party that her roommates were having for at least 30 minutes. Lo' and behol', her ex-boy friend was there, too.

I was brutally frank. I think I almost made Ulan cry. She was quiet while I berated her for being a dumbass. She took deep breaths, while I went on and on about how he didn't care anymore and that she should stop living the illusion that one day he'll come back.

It wasn't mean of me, I'm sure. There is no room left for the common consoling, mushy, hopeful words and all. I had to put it down hard. She needs to be reminded of her worth, that she can live without him. I gave her everything I learned in four years in one brash speech.

The truth is, when it comes to love, no one ever learns from others. We must go through it to find the way out. Sometimes, though, when we're free, it's never what we thought it would be.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow, I have a scheduled meeting with Ulan and Lolo. I call it "meeting" because it's not a date. Anyway, this means going to Whittier to pick up Lolo, which is fine with me since I'm always up for a roadtrip/adventure. I think I'll take us to South Coast Plaza, where Albert and I went for our second and final date. The funny thing with Ulan and Lolo is that they are each other's ex's. Who would have thought they would both end up here, experiencing the same thing (both have just broken up with their partners), and living three minutes away from each other. Fate or coincidence?

I don't believe in fate, but it seems that Fate believes in me. This makes all the difference.

This also means that I have to take my delinquent ass to the gym tomorrow morning. I only went once this week, and, only because I had nothing better to do before my dentist appointment on Wednesday. I can't wait. I have to remind myself to buy Gatorade when I go (window) shopping with Mom tonight.

I finished paying my bills this morning. &%#$@$!

Pecker and I chatted this morning, too. It's funny how guys try overstepping their boundaries and to see how far they can take the conversation. I'm not a prude, but I don't give answers to questions regarding the numbers of body parts and the like. It's ok, Pecker, you're forgiven.

So far, the day has gone by like water in a toilet. Flushed down the drain and I don't know where I'm headed (yet).

I think I'll stop by Nine West today and do some therapy shopping. (Sigh)

Mundane office workday

I finally got my lost package of office supplies from FedEx. After unpacking the box, I had the urge to sharpen a pencil that I ordered for one of the engineers. I haven't used a wooden pencil in a long time. I think the last time I used one was way back in middle school. I remember when they gave us the list of things to buy for the next school year and erasable ballpens were on it, it felt like we were coming of age. It was a symbol that society trusted us eleven-year-olds, somehow- that we could declare something in ink and use the pen eraser only when we were really sure we wanted to take back what we said. That was a great thing. Using a ballpen for the first time meant no turning back- no more pink spots on schoolwork or holes from constant erasing. Ballpens meant you had to be sure you had enough conviction to give the world a piece of your mind. It's just like learning how to drive and getting your own car. Public transportation, then, becomes ghastly. Or when you get your first paycheck, there's no way you can ask your parents for extra cash unless you have a face made of pigskin.

On second thought, the paycheck part is a bit overboard. I'd still ask my dad for money, just for ol' time's sake. Walking to places ain't so bad either. Not all places, though. Everything in SoCal is miles apart. But pencils, I can still do without. I have a lot of conviction and enough on my mind to ink and blot everywhere I go.

Clarification

Though I HATE the color PINK, I have pink skivvies. Shame on me.

There goes useless contradiction.

This is the evidence of the irony in my life.

I'm such an effing girl! Can't make up my effing mind (less than half the time)!

5 Random Things About Me

I can't think of anything at random, I realize. My brain is so effing organized that if I so much as put any effort in randomness, my thought process screws up. I'm serious. I tried it once, and I went haywire. I was confused the whole day. Same goes for my life, too. I'm organized. Though I am no longer as obssessive-compulsive about my bidness, I pretty much stick to the tried-and-tested.

Let me try being random today:

1. Ummmm
2. Duhhh

Forget it. Random things about me do not exist. OH...wait, I thought of something.

1. I try to wear skivvies that are the same color as the shirt I'm going to wear for the day
2. I HATE the color PINK (blech)

Ok. I'm stumped. I won't try any harder. Thinking of two things at random is good enough.

Hooray for not-pink skivvies!

Addicted

I am absolutely addicted to my foreign soap! I'm almost done with the series. I watch an average of two episodes a night because I can't wait till the next day. That's why I have had no time for anything else. My bud told me to (with broken Chinese accent): "Slow down, woman. What you gonna do when the series is over? You gonna have withdrawal symptoms like an addict!" I laughed when he said this, but, in my heart, I know it's true.

Pathetic.

And I'm in love with one of the characters too.

And who said being single isn't fun?

Absent

I was absent during the weekend because I spent most of my time with my family. I went shopping with Mom on Saturday and had dinner with FH, her boy friend, QBall, and their childhood friend.

I realized that the hardest thing about having a really good memory is that you can't forget anything. Well, you can't forget the things you want to forget that easily. I've found a way to block out certain memories, but when my defenses are down, they creep up on me. There are certain things that I would love to not remember, like the years I spent with LL. (Chuckles to self) But that's like pretending to be 12 again or having amnesia for the past 10 years. I have to be fair to myself and my experience. I have to be fair to him, too. We did have some great times together. It was the pursuit of the happiness he caused me to feel that made me hold on for so long. I pretended that the pain didn't matter, so as long as, one day, we'd finally be happy again. These happy times are the things I want to not remember because they play tricks on me. Sometimes, I must admit, an itty-bitty part of me entertains the possibility that I could love him again. This only happens during my relationship-angst stages. (Thank God!) And since I believe that love is a choice, I choose and will continue to choose not to love him for my sake. Besides, it was all an illusion, a world I made up for myself.

I can't wait for the another chance to love someone. This time, I want to do it right.

Dum di dum...and the ranting continues. Here we go again.

Where are you? What's taking you so long?

Can we still be friends?

I chatted with Schoolboy last night. He's a former love. I pissed him off by accident when I told him indirectly that I went home in December. He was "upset" because I didn't contact him. The last thing he said before our conversation ended was "as if our past means nothing to you." I was shocked. This from the guy who yelled for me to stop crying in front of his Frat brothers after he tells me that we're better off apart. This from the guy who asked for my permission to date someone else. This from the guy who squished my already-tattered heart down to its last drop. The gall of this guy is unbelievable!

Friendship, here, is not the issue. I have no problem with being his friend. What bugs me is the fact that he presumes that I will fall victim to his so-called charm. In the past, this was endearing; now, I think it's pathetic. There is no residue left behind, nothing to sweep under the rug. My time is precious and is not wasted on silly games with ex-boyfriends (or ex-suitors, for that matter).

I have not discounted our past. It will forever define who I am and who I will be. However, PAST is the operative word- PAST as in done, gone, HISTORY. Obviously, Schoolboy, you are the one who disregarded our past. You "forgot" how we ended. You "forgot" our agreement to let go. I, on the other hand, stayed true to our promise. I meant it when I said good-bye. So, screw you for accusing me of this fault! Screw you for trying to sway me by your words! Screw you for this drama, for trying to make me feel guilty that you are no longer special to me.

(This applies to Fb, too. How dare you accuse me of being a terrible "friend," for not calling or sending you an e-mail when I was there! How dare you act as if the world is going to end if we never see each other again! How dare you presume that I should make time for you!)

My true friends did not try to emotionally batter me when I wasn't able to meet with them. Since our friendship is not dependent on physical proximity, they suggested that we meet the next time I go back. These are the people I will definitely keep in my life!

And to you:

Can we still be friends? (Mandy Moore version)
We can't play this game anymore but
Can we still be friends?
Things just can't go on like before but
Can we still be friends?

We had something to learn
Now it's time for the wheel to turn
Grains of sand, one by one
Before you know it, all gone

Let's admit we made a mistake but
Can we still be friends?
Heartbreak's never easy to take but
Can we still be friends?

It's a strange, sad affair
Sometimes seems like we just don't care
Don't waste time feeling hurt
We've been through hell together

Can we still be friends?
Can we still get together sometimes?
Can we still be friends?
You know that life will still go on

We awoke from our dream
Things are not always what they seem
Memories linger on
It's like a sweet, sad, old song

I will never be the victim to your inconsistent, deceiving ways. And when we do see each other, watch me pass you by, while you wonder what you could have had if you did it right the first time.

PostMSyndrome

I am feeling extremely emotional today. I checked out my friends' pages on Friendster and I remembered all the times we were together; this made me feel lonely. I want to write long, sentimental testimonials. I want to go back and hug them and thank them for being the people I treasure the most.

I am amiss.

I hate being emotional. I hate crying, too, because it means that I am in inconceivable pain. Unfortunately, I feel the tears welling up in my chest, forcing its way out. I just want to sit somewhere desolate and cold and bawl. I just want to let it out and be done with it.

Lord, you take care of this. I am utterly baffled.

Make sure you're worth it

-Perfect- You're the perfect girlfriend. Which
means you're rare or that you cheated :P You're
the kind of chick that can hang out with your
boyfriend's friends and be silly. You don't
care about presents or about going to fancy
places. Hell, just hang out. You're just happy
being around your boyfriend.


What Kind of Girlfriend Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

This, from a quiz, is highly factual. Hehe...

What kind of kiss am I (again)?

You have a dominant kiss- you take charge and make
sure your partner can feel it! Done artfully,
it can be very satisfactory if he/she is into
you playing the dominant role MEORW!


What kind of kiss are you?
brought to you by Quizilla


Now, that's more like it. Although, I can deal with Entrancing.

What kind of kiss am I?

You have an entrancing kiss~ the kind that leaves
your partner bedazzled and maybe even feeling
he/she is dreaming. Quite effective; the kiss
that never lessens and always blows your
partner away like the first time.


What kind of kiss are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

What the? I think I better take this quiz again...

Hope floats heavy sometimes

Yes I feel emphatic about not being static
And not eating the bullshit that's being fed to me
Cuz now I'm full
Just when you thought, it was safe to think
In comes mental piracy, and no
What I'm looking for (for)
Can not be sold to me
I wish they all would stop trying
Cuz what I want, and what I need, is and will always be free
"When it comes" by Incubus

The loss of my idealism began when I stopped getting what I hoped for. It used to always work. All I used to do was tell myself it would happen, and it would materialize. Now, I absorb reality and I let it consume me. This is what sucks about growing up and becoming an "adult." I no longer hope for the impossible. It's pathetic, I know. For what is hope, if not for the longing of a miracle?

I say this because CBF might have to leave, and, honestly, this pains me. Of course, our friendship will not end. We're two peas in a pod. Though I pray that God will allow her to remain in her comfy dwelling, I feel that it's half-possible. And this pains me. I don't want to think about it, but when we talk everyday, I remember that one day the welcomed routine will end. This scares me, because I have a phobia of good-byes. I've bid farewell so many times in my life, yet, until now, I leave with a firm grip, my nails scratching the surface, trying to hold on.

But I am tired. Tonight I will rest my soul and be a child again. I will wish on a star and long for a miracle. I will place my worries in His hands.

And I will hope for the half-possible...

To CB...

Summer Romance (ANTI-GRAVITY LOVE SONG) by Incubus

I'm home alone tonight.
Full moon illuminates my room, and sends my mind aflight.
I think I was dreaming up some thoughts that were seemingly
possible...with you.
So I call you on the tin can phone.
We rendezvous at a quarter-two, and make sure we're alone.
Think I've found a way for you and I to finally fly free.

When we get there, we're gonna fly so far away,
Making sure to laugh; while we experience anti-gravity.
Anti gravity, Anti gravity

For years, I kept it to myself.
Now potentialities are bound, and living under my shelf.
Simply choose your destination from the diamond canopy,
and we'll be there.
So I call you on the tin can phone.
We rendezvous at a quarter-two, and make sure we're alone.
I may have found the way for you and I to finally be free

To CB...

You fit in a tiny corner of my heart. Nonetheless, you are there. May you find your way to the center; may you fight the pull of your uncertainty.

For I hold your memory close, but not close enough to scorch me. You are my contemplation; and I, your exception.
With this, I sit in the cracks of your confusion.

For I wait in the recesses of your heart, where I have found my comfort, my niche. It is the smallest part of who you are, the cause of your infinite questions, where the gray meets the shadows.

But, nonetheless, I am there.

Wishing for the dubious

Pardon Me by Incubus

Pardon me while I burst
A decade ago, I never thought I would be.
At twenty-three on the verge of spontaneous combustion. Woe-is-me
But I guess that it comes with the territory.
An ominous landscape of never-ending calamity.
I need you to hear. I need you to see.
That I have had all I can take
And exploding seems like a definite possibility
To me
So Pardon me while I burst into flames.
I've had enough of the world, and its people's mindless games
So Pardon me while I burn, and rise above the flame
Pardon me, pardon me. I'll never be the same.
Not, two days ago I was having a look in a book
And I saw a picture of a guy fried up above his knees
I said I can relate
Cause lately I've been thinking of combustication as a welcomed vacation from.
The burdens of the planet earth, like gravity, hypocrisy, and the perils of being in 3-D...
And thinking so much differently.

Hence, the termination of my "in love" phase. This is what gets me going in the mornings.

I wish I were in Canada, smoking a clope with CBF in the cold. Or at a cozy bar with Pecker, a glass of vodka mixed with somehting citrusy in my hand, giggling about the eccentricities of being apt and capable but choosing to be single. I wish I were with Mom on the patio of our concrete beach cave, smoking banana leaves (huh?) and discussing how men are the crops of irony. I wish I were at Alda's, with my HPP buds, smoking and eating pies and talking (like old times). I sigh at the indifference and the bitter-sweet longing to be somewhere else but here.

All those wishes of smoking with people I care about (hence, the pun: "pardon me, while I burst into flames") is the irony of my crass habit. I only enjoy smoking when I engage in great conversation. I miss great conversation, but, right now, I'd rather be alone.

Wehehehe. I am in a hormonal mood. I've been cradling my angst for the past two weeks. My mind and my heart haven't been in agreement lately. I fiddled with the notion of letting either my sanity or my serenity go. Although, even before I could make the choice, I [am not suprised to] discover that both have long gone. So, here I am, wading in the familiar stream of passivity, waiting for the angst to pass. I will wait for sanity and serenity to come back. (For some reason, they have chosen to elude me. Damn it, you!)

No one can piss me off, for the most part. The world has no choice but to welcome ME. If you don't like it, get over it. I AM HERE TO STAY!

The things I look forward to everyday

1. Seeing my family run around the house trying not to be late in the morning
2. Driving to work with Incubus blasting on my radio
3. Smoking in the car while going down 7th St.
4. Going to the gym
5. Chatting with CBF
6. Clocking out
7. Watching my foreign soap opera
8. Going to the mall with my Mom
9. Watching my foreign soap opera

These are in no particular order, and I am not embarrassed that I like watching my foreign soap opera...kinda.

Foreign Soap Operas and minor dilemmas

I swear, if I watch another episode of this Taiwanese melodrama, I will be speaking Chinese in no time. It's all I ever do. When I wake up on the weekends, I turn on my laptop (my DVD player can't read the VCDs), and sit there for three hours, clapping and giggling (like the psycho that I truly am). When I get home from the gym, it's the same story. Mom was so concerned that she asked me what I'll do with my life once I'm done watching the 26 episodes my Achi sent me. I was dumbfounded. I didn't know what to say.

This is sad.

My life revolves around fake people, a fake plot, in another country. Vinnie told me that he's not suprised that I don't meet people because I spend my Saturday nights watching too much TV.

This is very sad.

And it's Monday too...

Lost and Found

Tonight, I looked for the bracelet again. It was given to me by LL's Mom before I left in 2002. I love his mother, as if she were my own, which is why I treasured the bracelet so much. I wore it the same day I got it, and I didn't take it off until this January. This was because I was mad at her son. I was afraid that the longer I wore it, the longer I would pine for him. I took it off because it symbolized my letting go. The memory of the moment I removed the dainty, gold bracelet from my right wrist is vague. I remember placing it in my bag, in the zipper compartment. I wanted to keep it safe. I didn't want to lose it. Unfortunately, I was misled by my anger, and I wanted to rebel against the love I foolishly believed in. I wanted to be negligent in order to prove to myself that I no longer cared about him.

I haven't seen the bracelet since then. I feel terrible. I told her that I still had it, and, now, I can't find it.

I was busy rummaging through my things when Mom said this: "Well, maybe it wasn't meant to be."

There are sins we intentionally commit in order to nullify previous misdeeds. In losing the bracelet, I found myself.

It is no longer a symbol of ill-begotten feelings. It has become a keepsake, a bookmark in my life. It is I and him, and the string of little moments and people that bind us somehow. It is a yesterday spent and a tomorrow untold.

...But then again, when I think about it, maybe it wasn't meant to be.

The undocumented conversation with Pecker

(Sorry, Pecker, I could not bring myself to post our great conversation. I just couldn't. Too many innuendos.)

Once again, I will be sleeping very late, tonight, because I had a great conversation with Pecker. I opted to chat with him instead of washing the dishes (for obvious reasons). The conversation was light and enlightening (?). It gave my day the "goodnight" that it needed, like a kiss on the forehead or being tucked into bed. Thus, I do not regret losing two hours of sleep talking about"stuff" like the gym and sweaty men and worst dates and men having two heads and two brains (but neither work right) and hairy women with no boobs, only nipples, and bball and my part time job and getting lucky in Alaska. I laughed a good laugh. And, Pecker, I think I've mastered "changing the topic," you think?

It was a great conversation.

Life should be filled with great conversations.

Chocolates and the minor relapse

In the office:

I ordered file trays for Fred the other day, and when they came in yesterday, I placed them on his desk. Today, he thanks me twice and, at around 1440, walks over and hands me chocolate as a token of appreciation. This, I think, is sweet. Not all colleagues show their appreciation, even in the smallest of gestures.

I can't eat the chocolate.

It is the life and death of me.

In my head:

Chocolate is like LL. He was the life and death of me. At some point in time, I don't remember when anymore, my whole world revolved around him. Everything in my life was altered to suit his/our needs as a "couple" (for the end-part, kinda-sorta couple). Nearing the end of the rope, I thought I would die of schizophrenia.

It's scary how one person can have this affect on you. One person in your circle of living can make one false, misunderstood move. That's all it would take to push you over the edge, or to the darkest corner of your room where you could curl up and die of heartache, where you'd rather disappear in the shadows.

One person.

I'm glad that I got bored of that corner of my room. Apparently, I wasn't schizophrenic, and I wasn't going to perish. I grew weary of the fetal position and the puffy eyes and the mental anguish. I finally crawled out of my comfort zone and walked away from it all. Of course, it wasn't that easy. I had the help of the good Lord, Who gently tapped me upside the head. For the most part, I endured it unscathed.

Maybe a little bit of chocolate won't be so bad.

We all gotta live some time.

Macho and Churchboy have a conversation

Jacs: yes... it's very you
Ms. S: hahaha
Ms. S: hahahaha
Ms. S: what do you mean?
Ms. S: did you read the ones i uploaded today?
Jacs: wait
Jacs: is mr. WBCBBAPLP cute?
Ms. S: NO
Ms. S: besides
Ms. S: he's the general man
Ms. S: i take the no back
Jacs: ah i see
Ms. S: he's just the epitome of all of them
Jacs: your blog is very...
Ms. S: very waht
Ms. S: be honest
Jacs: dare i say it
Jacs: girly
Jacs: girly-ish
Jacs: very you
Jacs: despite your inherent macho-ness
Jacs: you are always thinking of all things
Jacs: girly
Ms. S: yes
Ms. S: that is my stage right now
Ms. S: girly
Ms. S: i even look girly now
Jacs: but you shouldnt wear sleaveless shirts
Ms. S: i do
Ms. S: have lost weight
Ms. S: and i'm trying to keep it down
Ms. S: (grr)
Jacs: your biceps might scare people
Jacs: hehehe
Ms. S: hahaha
Ms. S: that still makes me laugh
Ms. S: it's ok
Ms. S: i still have WBCBBAPLPs hangin around
Jacs: good for you... i call that the ally mcbeal stage
Ms. S: so i don't think that's too bad of a sign
Ms. S: hahahahahah
Ms. S: yeah
Ms. S: kinda
Jacs: see... he could be your billy
Jacs: or maybe
Ms. S: yuck
Ms. S: i lost my billy
Jacs: fish
Jacs: or john cage
Ms. S: chucked him in the pacific ocean when i left
Ms. S: yuck
Jacs: yes, john cage
Jacs: :sad:
Ms. S: besides
Ms. S: i have no interest in anyone but myself right now
Ms. S: hahahaha
Ms. S: no interest in politics
Jacs: very ally mcbeal-ish
Ms. S: or the harshness of this earth
Ms. S: hahahaha
Jacs: with a hint of dharma
Ms. S: hahaha
Ms. S: i think i can accept that
Ms. S: hahahaha

The explanation

A typical conversation between Ms. Standoffish (Ms. S) and the would-be-could-be-but-ain't potential life partner (WBCBBAPLP).

WBCBBAPLP: Why are you so quiet? (With pretentious charming inquisitive look)
Ms. Standoffish: No reason. (Smirks and the pretends not to notice pretentious charming inquisitive look)

WBCBBAPLP: What are you thinking about? (Pretends to smirk, but curiousity bites his tounge)
Ms. S: Nothing. (Smirks again- she is the Goddess of Smirking)

WBCBBAPLP turns to Ms. S's friend.

WBCBBAPLP: Why is she still single?
Ms. S's friend: Coz she's picky. (Smirks to hide the truth)

WBCBBAPLP turns to Ms. S.

WBCBBAPLP: Why are you picky? (Squints as if he knows the answer)
Ms. S: I don't know. (Turns away- she knows this line of questioning already)

WBCBBAPLP: You're standoffish, you know? Has anyone told you that?
Ms. S: Yeah. (Thinks to herself: damn it. You're the nth person who's told me this.)

WBCBBAPLP: You're intimidating; though, I'm not intimidated.
Ms. S: (Thinks to her self: like that line is gonna get you anywhere but closer to the door. Smiles and nods at WBCBBAPLP.)

Ms. S starts to think about what she could have done if she stayed at home instead.

Not a good sign.

The tattoo, the needle, and the prude

You have a wha???

CBF, it turns out, has a tattoo- a dragon that resides right above the crack of her bum.

I was shocked, skinless. CBF (who cannot be fucked) did something very naughty (in my book of prudeness). Something a pea in the same pod (where I dish my dirt) is not supposed to do. (Smirks) The pod that is our niche has been desecrated (smirks again). I cannot believe it.

Turns out IDJ, her sis, has a piercing in her belly butones (Filipino for button). Runs in the blood, eh?

Am I apalled? No.

Shocked is more like it. (They were little pairs of goody-two-shoes.)

Maybe I should do something naughty...like get the tattoo I've always wanted (my Chinese name on my upper left bum).

Nah. I don't know my Chinese name (anymore). Besides, what if, when I get older, the tattoo either sags all wrinkly or stretches so it morphs into a bad word in Chinese? Wouldn't want my lovah to see that. (Hihihi)

Oh...and...I'm afraid of needles (*ask my Dentist*).

The doctor

Self-diagnosed hypochondriac has a clean bill of health. Nothing to worry about...for now, of course (until paranoia seeps in again).

I busted my chops during the whole examination.

That's so typical.

Mooching

I remember, on the day that my sis and I left, while I waited for the inevitable with my parents and Boobsie, Daddy looked at my somber face and asked, "Should I sing 'leaving on a jet plane'?" And I laughed, a pretend laugh, of course. My heart was in itty-bitty pieces, just as it was a year-and-a-half before (same situation, different person). I finally found someone with whom I could enjoy the secret, grotesque moments of singledom. It was, once again, very painful to walk into the crowded international airport and say good-bye to my family, my friends, and him. Yet, all that time, he didn't know. All that time, he was oblivious. It was hard the night before, when he drove me home, and a block from my street, he says, "You know, tonight is our last night together." I could only answer, "Yeah, I know," because my sinuses were clogged and all I did was think and cough while we were at the movies.

And he didn't know. He didn't know how even harder it was to sit at the airport, on the dingy seats, waiting for boarding time. He didn't know how hard it was to talk to him for the last time and have nothing to say. He didn't know how gloomy my days were from the moment I stepped on the plane. He didn't know that my heart lodged into my throat when he called a week later, that I couldn't breathe for five minutes after we talked.

He didn't know that for weeks all I did was think about him; that I was, somehow, in love. (Blech)

Until now, he doesn't know.

But I have resolved to remain unattached (me, the expert); to set aside my woes, to wait no less.

To enjoy the secret, grotesque moments of singledom with no greater company than myself.

Before I forget

And before I forget, before I retire for the day, just in case I don't see tomorrow (sometimes, I am so happy, I think I might die soon):

Thank you, Lord. You have sent me nothing but Angels. Thank you, too, Angels.

See, everything is okay now.

And the sulking continues

CBF asks me, “What if he courts you again?” This is followed by, “What if he still loves you?” (something to that extent.) To which I reply, “It doesn’t matter anymore” (again, something to that extent).

Should it matter? No.

Does it matter? No.

Why does it feel like it matters, though?

I was taken completely off guard, today; but that’s okay. I knew there was something wrong in a kinda-sorta way. To him, I have nothing more to say- nothing at all. Contrary to this, I decided that it's okay to be friends, that we can, at least, still chat.

I need a cigarette.

The heat is probably getting to me; the sudden change in weather can screw up the senses sometimes. This shouldn’t last long.

However, after all of that, it was hard to function (or maybe it was constipation). I walked with laggard feet, dragged myself to the doctor, and, on my way, listened to my I HATE MEN compilation. So, in fairness to myself, tonight I am in the mood for the bidness of sulking.

Barely Breathing by Duncan Shiek
I know what you’re doing, I see it all too clear
I only taste the saline when I kiss away your tears
You really had me going, wishing on a star
But the black holes that surround you are heavier by far

I believed in your confusion, you were so completely torn
Well it must have been that yesterday was the day that I was born
There’s not much to examine, there’s nothing left to hide
You really can’t be serious if you have to ask me why
I say good-bye...

‘Cause I am barely breathing
And I can’t find the air
I don’t know who I’m kidding
Imagining you care
And I could stand here waiting
A fool for another day
But I don’t suppose it’s worth the price, worth the price
The price that I would pay

Everyone keeps asking, what’s it all about?
I used to be so certain and I can’t figure out
What is this attraction? I only feel the pain
There’s nothing left to reason and only you to blame
Will it ever change?

‘Cause I am barely breathing
And I can’t find the air
I don’t know who I’m kidding
Imagining you care
And I could stand here waiting
A fool for another day
But I don’t suppose it’s worth the price, worth the price
The price that I would pay
But I’m thinking it over anyway...

I’ve come to find
I may never know
Your changing mind
Is it friend or foe?
I rise above
Or sink below
With every time
You come and go
Please don’t come and go

‘Cause I am barely breathing
And I can’t find the air
I don’t know who I’m kidding
Imagining you care
And I could stand here waiting
A fool for another day
But I don’t suppose it’s worth the price, worth the price
The price that I would pay
But I’m thinking it over anyway...

:: I was hit on the head with a bat. Damn it. I lost my equilibrium again. I think this can be remedied by a good night's sleep.

Ex-Factor by Lauren Hill

It could all be so simple
But you'd rather make it hard
Loving you is like a battle
And we both end up with scars
Tell me, who I have to be
To get some reciprocity
No one loves you more than me
And no one ever will

Is this just a silly game
That forces you to act this way
Forces you to scream my name
Then pretend that you can't stay
Tell me, who I have to be
To get some reciprocity
No one loves you more than me
And no one ever will

No matter how I think we grow
You always seem to let me know
It ain't workin'
It ain't workin'
And when I try to walk away
You'd hurt yourself to make me stay
This is crazy
This is crazy

I keep letting you back in
How can I explain myself
As painful as this thing has been
I just can't be with no one else
See I know what we got to do
You let go and I'll let go too
'Cause no one's hurt me more than you
And no one ever will

Care for me, care for me
I know you care for me

There for me, there for me
Said you'd be there for me

Cry for me, cry for me
You said you'd die for me

Give to me, give to me
Why won't you live for me

Bow.

Not breathing

This is not funny. CBF tells me that she's chatting with LL and something passes through my throat. It's not the usual pinch-in-the-pit-of-the-stomach. It's more like I-had-a-dream-about-you-and-what-do-you-want? Or is it what-do-I-want?

But see, I don't want anymore bidness with LL, let alone unfinished bidness. I've told myself a thousand times: I respect whatever his intentions were, whether to deceive me or to protect me. It is no longer important. I am not angry, nor do I "hate" him. I have let that go.

I have stopped running (though this eludes me sometimes and that is the honest truth). I do not fear.

Now, all I have to do is jump.

Water-retention

I don't know where it is- either in my head or my tummy, but I know I'm retaining water somewhere. Finally, CBF buzzes me on YM. It's already 9:24 a.m. (I can't wait till Friday.) It's scary that when you start work (in the real world), you can't wait till its Friday. This makes life (inevitably) short. The only time you relish the day is when you get home (night time). (Sigh)

I can't help it.

I'm retaining water somewhere.

Monday

Today is Monday. (Sad) My eyes are still puffy from watching The Passion yesterday afternoon (which explains why I was late this morning- I put on make-up and it took forever to get my eyebrows right). My head hurts and I haven't had breakfast yet.

Today I have work. (Tired)

Last Song Syndrome- "I won't worry my life away..." (dadada- don't know the rest of the lyrics).

Mood- Blech. (I think this calls for a cigarette. FH and FHBf are quitting starting today. Will I let this affect me? We'll see...)

Today I have a doc's appointment. (Waaaahhhhh) We'll see what's wrong with me this time. (Self-diagnosed hypochondriac)

Time to get started (with whatever I'm supposed to do here).

So far, so good.

If you forget me by Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.


:: I was checking my mail just now and found this sitting in the inbox. Timely rediscovery, I might say, because this morning I had a very disturbing dream.

Let me begin with last night. We went to Fla-fla's birthday party at Buca di Beppo and headed off to Fox Sports Grille to chill for the rest of the night. I had half a glass of vodka and Red Bull (as suggested by Vruce), which wasn't so bad. Though, like he said, those things creep up on you, and creep it did. I sat on the couch and watched the interesting mix of people flirting and dancing and laughing in front of me, while thinking of the best way to ignore the throbbing in my head. Fla-fla was prouncing around drunk and FH was chugging down her shots of Patron (as if she were still 18). By the end of the night, we couldn't find Fla-fla (turns out she was on the patio with FBf) and FH was drunk and antsy (she had to pee and my feet hurt, which meant that looking for a restroom was torture for the both of us). I decided to sleep over her place because I was too beat to go home. Though I was sober by then, all the painful walking (in the 4" heels) was too much for the night.

Before going to bed, I thought about CB, which is the reason why dreaming of LL and his folks seemed pretty weird. I was sleeping on the couch at his house, waiting for his mom to come home. He was taking a shower, and I woke up (in the dream). He gets out of the shower, runs up the stairs, halts for a moment, turns around and says hi and goes on his way. His mom comes in with his dad and a guy from my office, and she helps me fold the blanket I used. I tell her I can do it myself (out of respect), and they sit at the table to eat lunch, while I stand there and watch. I wake up (reality). I read that when you dream of an ex-lover, that means you have unfinished bidness with him.

I doubt. Maybe he has unfinished bidness with me. (Chuckles to self)

Thus, the poem. Not all of it is true now. Just this part:

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

It feels good. Very good, because at one point in my life, I could have sworn I was a rock- no matter how many times I was kicked in order to fly away, my weight persisted and I just sat there, waiting to be kicked once more. The weight was not love; it was illusion. I can laugh about it now.

I'm glad I can laugh about it.

I'm relieved that I've let go.

So this is how it feels to be weightless.

Changing my mind

Ok, so I changed my mind. I decided that since today is Friday, I shouldn't allow myself to go home stressed. I know how much trouble I would encounter just by telling them I no longer want to study at the University. Too much action for a Friday afternoon. I also figured that it would take forever to get home from the 110. Blah blah blah...and on and on I went as I automatically turned onto Navy Way and headed towards downtown Long Beach. I didn't notice that I was headed home until I hit Ocean Ave., where the sun's reflection and dusk meet at 5 p.m.

Instead, I took my lazy ass to the gym. I decided not to think about it anymore than I should, lest I give myself new excuses not to go (i.e. today is Friday, etc. etc.). The trip home wasn't so bad; I had Incubus' new album blasting in the car. I was generally relaxed, except for when this guy who flicked me off for honking the horn when the dumbass cut in front of me as I was entering the 405/22. Bastard! I so wanted to stick my fat middle finger out till he was angry with rage, but decided that it was not proper for an educated young woman to stick up the middle finger because he wouldn't be able to hear the words "Fuck off!" (unless I mouthed them right). I stayed calm and decided not to vent.

After the gym, I had dinner with Kulot at Don something. I stuffed myself again (because today is Friday) and bought mint ice cream at Alberston's (I'm so glad the strike is over).

This is what I call a good Friday night: sitting in front my laptop, eating my Andes mint ice cream (with "smooth mint chips") and waiting for "Monk".

TGodIF.

Friday the Fifth

Today is another day...another Friday...at the office...overhearing the meeting going on in the office...and waiting for 4 p.m. I have an errand today, and that is to withdraw from the University I am currently attending...the one where the curriculum almost ruined my life. (Hehe.)

Cheers to higher education!!!

What the hell was I thinking?

Five things

5 things I can’t live without
1. My car- to get around
2. Shoes- to protect my feet (nice ones , too)
3. Hand Sanitizer (so I never eat with dirty hands)
4. Cell phone (to call in case of emergency or boredom)
5. Wallet with all my cards

That actually narrows down what I really need in my bag, the car included because sometimes it feels like it weighs that much.

I think I’ll continue this tomorrow. Time to go to sleep.