Montreal Christmas

Mom said I could go to Montreal for the holidays. I plan to leave on December 19 and come back on the 3rd of January. I also have a great discount from Northwest, which makes the cost of the plane ticket quite bearable.

But...

Because there's always a but...

My Boss2 has asked me to wait till Friday to book my flight. I might have to work during the holidays, which is okay. But I hate waiting (always have and always will). However, I would love to spend the holidays with my psuedo/future-in-laws before the big day. It might make Francis' departure from home a nicer occasion.

It's weird that I won't be able to spend time with my family this Christmas. It's even weirder that Francis is leaving Montreal. That's how it is, I was told, when you go off and get married. Things change. Your life changes. You have to let go of certain things and step out of your comfort zone. We're both very attached to our family, but it's harder for him because he's the one moving. So, the next year or couple of years will be spent on adjusting. I think that, though we are grown-ups (kind of) and mature enough to decide for ourselves, we haven't quite gotten a hold of the fact that we're not going to be sheltered by our parents anymore. It's like going to college for LIFE- a barrage of new beginnings, challenges and constant learning. It's going to be for good, for keeps, forever.

Forever.

For Life.

Same person, same face, same gooey eyes in the morning. Same hands, different day. Same plans, different thoughts, thousands of arguments, plus weight-gain and babies, and homes and bank accounts and decisions. All these decisions. So many things to choose from. Each choice is a chance to change our lives.

I'm so excited.

I think I'm going to pass out.

The Lamp

So last night, Francis and I had an argument about replacing the lamp in my room, because, for some odd reason, the bulb in it generates too much heat. I don't really get this. Maybe, it's because I don't really like being in a chilly room or he's just used to the cold weather in Montreal. Either way, I find it unnecessary to purchase another lamp.

Then I realized that if we're arguing about a lamp now, what more is there to argue about later? Do I have more lamp, cushion and paint color arguments to look forward to? Does real life really take over relationships? Will we really be so close that there's no where to hide?

Francis and I have put a lot of heart and thought into this decision. We're standing by it even if we do have to argue about who gets the remote and who has to wash the dishes. Even if I've heard the worst things about marriage, I'm still looking forward to it. I'm glad we're this close, as if the 23 years we spent apart was just a journey and the US that is NOW is the destination.

We're going to take it one day at a time. We'll figure it out. Really. We will. Even if it takes 50 years and a thousand stupid lamps.

Twenty-five

So, my birthday is in a couple of days. Twenty-five. (Give me a sec. to let it sink in...)

My friend says that it's downhill from there.

Does it matter? No.

Because I did everything I was supposed to do at 30 when I was 23. (This doesn't include finishing my Masters, but, at least, I've started it.)

I look back ten years. I was 15, a sophmore in high school. I think I was more understanding and patient then. When you get older, they say you become set in your ways. Certain things become black and white. Your life starts to pan out, be it planned or unplanned.

I'm grateful for where I am.

But I'm not content.

I feel like I'm running out of time.

If I stand still, I won't be able to catch up. Sometimes, I'm moving so fast, I can't breathe.

This year, I'll make it my own. Each day will be brand new. No more past worries. I will slow down and take a breath.

The Announcement

So, I'm getting married. Next year. In the Philippines. Which explains why I haven't been writing lately. The past two months have been a blur. Francis asked my dad for permission in July. Our parents talked a week later. It's been pretty chaotic...on my side of the fence. The whole engagement/wedding/marriage thing is a long time coming. We've been talking about it since we met. No kidding. Now that it's finally here, it feels so surreal...

Sometimes, I react too quickly, without thinking, nerves wired, temper rising, words spilling out of my mouth.

Sometimes, I feel life is so dispairing, like this will never end. Sometimes, I don't even know what this is.

I'm starting to loath LA. I hate the traffic, the expensive real estate, the fact that 20 miles is 45 minutes away.

I want to get out of here.

But how? This was my choice. Can I go on vacation for a year and pretend I have no responsibility? Can I go on hiatus like a movie star and choose not to work for a couple of months?

Unpoetic

It's become a burden to write. I used to be able to put everything in words, all the anguish and memories and worries. I feel like everyone is playing tug-of-war with me; they need this, they need that, can't you do this better, why are you just sitting there, what are you going to do next, if you don't do it now, you might now have tomorrow... and on and on. I'm tired. I really am. I'm tired of being responsible, and, yet, that's the way I am. I've tried to be reckless, but it's against my nature. I tried to get mad drunk and dance on a bar, but, instead, I fell asleep on my friend's couch. I tried to drive away, but came home in two days. I am more relaxed at work than I am at home.

It was easier to write about love two years ago when I thought that the only way my heart would ever be was broken. I'm actually happy now, and it's hard to write about being happy-in-love without cringing. Really. My feelings seem less intense when verbalized, because I don't hurt as much. There are many eloquent words for pain and sadness and anguish. Also, I whine more now than think. I hate feeling anything when I'm stressed because sometimes it's paralyzing. So, what do you talk about when you're happy-in-love and stressed because life seems a bit more difficult than you expect? Nothing, you take a breather, you leave, you try to find something dramatic or worthwhile. Or you let it find you.

On dysfunctional relationships

When I was younger, I used to think that love, like money, grew on trees. All you had to do was wait for the right season to pick the ripest fruit; that love would bloom no matter what.

Bullshit.

Love, like money, is hard to come by. You have to bust your hump trying to get it. Sometimes, it eludes you, sometimes, you're broke, and the chances of winning the lottery are unlikely. But when you do, it's best to learn how to keep it. When things come in a mad rush of excess, you'll tend to take it for granted.

It's very hard to be articulate about cheaters and being cheated on. The only reason I mention this is because it seems to be happening too close to home. My girl friends are experiencing it and I try my best to talk them through it. I wish I could be there, you know, to just be there. I knew their boy friends and I knew how they were. Even I was shocked to hear what had happened and how they treated my friends, but certain things come to an end, whether we accept it or not.

I can't say I never saw it coming. Being the person outside looking in, it's easy to say that the relationship is doomed. But I couldn't do that. I couldn't tell my friends that the relationship is dysfunctional. They wouldn't believe me and they would try to prove me wrong. This is the tendency of the woman: to be loyal without thinking. We like to avoid "warning signs" for some odd reason. I think that a lot of us have the tendency to be stupid optimists (at times). He'll change, eventually. He's not always going to be this way. Some day he'll start thinking straight. Then we realize he's not ever going to change, that his life is having it's own party and we're not invited. Most of the time, we understand this too late, when we're in the throes of "unconditional love" and nothing is more important than saving the relationship and saving him.

Anyway, to make a long story short, there's nothing more that I want for my friends than to be with the person who loves them in the simplest, most uncomplicated way there is. I know their pain, I know how hard it is. You think that the world is crashing down on you, but when you wake up the next day, the ceiling is still there, the sun is out and everyone is happy except you.

My girls will eventually pick up and move on, but betrayal changes a life. I know it's changing theirs.

Paychecks

I got paid yesterday. I didn't see a dime. Everything went to bills.

My brother, on the other hand, got his first paycheck today. He has more money than I have, he only worked part-time, and I earn way more than he does.

That's depressing.

Adulthood sucks.

I hate bills.

Worth

Of the many things I may complain about in my life, there is nothing that makes it more worth it than seeing my family happy. A couple of Sundays ago, the four of us were at home at the same time during the day. We were all talking and joking and laughing. It was a good feeling to know that we're together and that we have each other to go home to.

Mowlin Roge

I struggled to pay attention to the movie, but I couldn't. I now officially hate musicals on TV.

I knew I should have watched the Law & Order marathon instead.

Alone

I'm alone at home. There is peace and quiet. I'm watching a movie and trying to relax. Yet, I can't seem to sit still.

I feel the need to go to mass.

But I'm still here. Alone.

Sawa

Last week I was fed up. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I was tired, fed up, pissed off.

I decided on Friday morning, on my way to work, that I had a choice to leave. So, I did. I went to San Francisco. I drove 500 miles by myself. If I stayed, I would have gone postal, like Michael Douglas in "Falling Down."

I needed to be far away and reconnect with the one person who's known me since I was nine- my best friend since the 4th grade. We drove around our old neighborhoods, which weren't as clean as they used to seem. When we're kids, there are just certain things that we don't see. Our eyes are small. Our hearts are big. We don't see black and white. We only know good and bad.

It was great to be back to a home where the fog comes in like big arms that hug you. All the comfort in the world I would find in the mist that covered my house and the streets. A city so beautiful, I relived it's history everyday.

It was good to be away, but I was happy going back. SoCal isn't always so great, what with the traffic and the way of living, I suppose. But it grows on you. I love the sun. The winters filled with rain. The too many places to go. The people I don't like seeing. The endless opportunities. My friends. My family.

And there's still no place better than sleeping in my own bed.

Therapy

I never understood the concept of fruit and chocolate mixed together. Puke.

I did nothing today. I didn't clean. I didn't obsess. I didn't move. I woke up, walked to the living room, and laid down again. It felt kind of weird to be idle, but it's my only way to recover from stress and fatigue. (Talking like an old woman again.) I also went shopping and bought a pair of jeans and a nice blouse. Charged it.

There's nothing like shopping and the familiar swipe of plastic to make me feel whole again.

Sigh.

Reruns

I'm still awake.

Fuck! I knew this would happen. I went to work today, and, out of total boredom, I had a cup of coffee. As much as I love that stuff, I have refrained from drinking it in the afternoon or at night because it makes me paranoid. Even though watching the news depresses me, apparently reruns of Law & Order and CSI don't. I found this out one night after watching the former and wondering if I should sleep with a bat next to my bed just in case the psycho from the show crawls in through the window.

Anyway, I have anger issues and I'm depressed for some reason. I argued with Francis till he agreed to forget whatever didn't happen, which supposedly ticked him off. I was tired. I didn't see the point in dragging it on. Our conversation, though as animated as it usually is, was dry.

I didn't have the greatest day. I bet those who ticked me off had it even worse. I lost it this morning and pissed off everyone else at home. Now, I'm still awake, remembering all that happened today. Torture.

Like reruns in my head.

My signature

So the other day, I snapped at Francis because he questioned why I signed my whole name on receipts and documents. I like my name. I like signing my name. That's the way my signature has looked ever since I was in college.

I love my whole independent, think-for-myself thing, but I have to admit, this comment (though I hated it) has affected my signature. In order to change it, I will need to contact the bank and the credit card companies to resubmit a sample. You know, with identity theft and all, you can never be too careful.

Anyway, we got into a big fight last night. I mean huge. There was arguing and crying and the click of the phone and a lame text message (on my part). It's all about what could have been. Apparently, I put my head in the wrong place even though my heart was where it was supposed to be. And he, on the other hand, I think, sees one tiny part of the whole other side of the story.

The flat tire

I'm psychologically imbalanced (no suprise). I'm emotionally fatigued. My goals cannot be attained at the moment and, because of this, I cannot move forward.

I looked it up. This is what the flat tire means. I'm drained. Tired. Confused. At a stump. In a rut. And to top it all off, losing weight is a bitch.

That's exactly how I feel.

'Nuff said.

The day continues.

So, I'm at work on a Saturday night, Operations Watch, I man the phones in case of an emergency. Let's hope I don't panic. Just goes to show that I'd rather be here than out there, in a bar somewhere with friends, drinking expensive lemonade. Though, I don't always pay for my drink when we go out (I'm designated driver), I enjoy bar-hopping more with Francis. It's all small talk and drinking, anyway.

I'm watching House of Flying Daggers. I am totally in love with Jin- chinky and handsome- that's the way I like 'em. Haha.

I totally forgot about dinner. For the first time, ever, I wasn't thinking about food. I walked around Melrose and decided to have lunch at Costco before I did the grocery shopping. Francis suggested I microwave the corned beef I bought for dinner. By that time, I had already eaten two dinky bags of chips and M&Ms. Ick.

As I sit here, I realize that I have a Saturday night all to myself. I can actually relax and watch the movie or read Harry Potter Year Five. But I don't. I don't know how to sit still, except for when it's cold. There is always something that needs to be done. Multi-tasking has become my habit. I have to think and watch and type. I have to read and analyze and ponder. I procrastinate getting up for a drink of water. I think of what I'm supposed to do tomorrow.

Anyway, Jin and the girl are starting to do it on the forest floor. This, I don't get. How can you do it with leaves poking your ass and insects biting your inner thighs?

I'm due for another potty break and I'm seeing things in the corner of the room.

I'm not scared. I'm not scared. I'm not scared.

Fuckity fuck fuck. Who's idea was it to give me the late shift, anyway?

Stress

So, last night, after the meeting with the city person (I applied for a grant to have the house painted), I conked out. It was fatigue, I guess, from the long week and being brought back to reality. I didn't even hear my cell phone when Francis called at 630pm.

Most of my afternoons are spent analyzing bills. I even check my account balance twice a day hoping that money will pop up out of the blue (a.k.a. extreme wishful thinking). I can't run and I can't hide. Adulthood has taken over. Shitty shit shit! I also feel like I'm in a slump. My job is great, but I want more. The company will pay for 100% of my education (whatever I choose) but I don't know what and where to study. Should I stick to my current field- Aerospace- or should I venture into marketing or broadcast communications? Should I continue looking for a new job or should I stay where I am and wait a little longer to see what oppotunities may arise?

I don't even think I have a dream or goal anymore. That's sad. I used to be so ambitious.

9 days

Francis arrived last Monday. It was hard to watch him walk away this morning. It was depressing. This weekend, I realized that, right before he leaves to go back to Montreal, I pick fights with him. Stupid fights. Little fights. Fights I regret when I know I won't see him when I get home.

We spent a few days at the beach. Most of the time, I was under the umbrella while Francis was in the water. I think I even got drunk off my semi-virgin margarita because there is a picture of me lying down on my tummy with the towel on my body up to my neck and my face is covered by my hair. It sort of looked like the girl on The Ring on vacation.

For his birthday, I made a little game where he answers questions for points. The grand prize was a portable dvd player (but that's only if he perfected the game). He got the portable dvd player anyway, since he won the Best Buy $75 certificate. At least he got what he wanted. I called in sick on his birthday because I figured that, even if I went to work, my head would be at home. Might as well leave the rest of me there, too. So, we just sat in front of the tv all day till mid-afternoon. We had dinner at the oh-so-good Bucca di Beppo (Italian). And that was that. The rest of the night was spent with me whining about him leaving the next day. I may have sounded like a spoiled brat, but, hey, I have to admit, there is never enough time to spend with him.

Closer

I just saw Closer. I don't recommend it to those tempted to go back to the past, obsessed with inflicting self-torture. The movie was about betrayal. It's not the greatest thing on earth. To watch something you've been through. I sat there and I was sad. Sad about my own past and how it was a hard lesson to learn. I sat there and saw the characters ruin each others lives. It was like watching my own movie. Taped many years ago. Feelings caught in that span of time. It's insane how people go back to the traitor to justify their own needs. No matter how hard and how sordid, they lay there and lie with that person and pretend that everything is okay.

I wasn't surprised how the movie ended. Anna goes back to her husband. Alice leaves Dan. Dan is regretful. Larry is triumphant. How do you live like that? How do you go on? What makes you forgive even though you will never forget?

I think of everything I've gone through, everything my friends are going through. I think of all the things I tell them. I say, "Don't be like me. I was stupid. Don't be stupid. Be honest. Be who you are. Don't let someone dictate the way you feel and the way you act. Do not justify your lie with a half-truth." As I say these hurtful things, what they don't realize is that I know what I'm talking about. I have to relive my own lie to help them. I allow myself to suffer with them. I want to protect those I love because betrayal is the most imcomprehensible, hurtful thing anyone can ever experience. It kills the spirit. Some people make it and are reborn somehow. Some people die with it, never able to live whole again.

The day I saw the light, I sat in the church. I prayed with all my might. I fought back the tears. I told myself that it was over and I have too much love for myself to let it continue. The only battle I had was with me. Could I forgive myself for being who I wasn't? Could I forgive myself for trusting someone with my vulnerability? Could I go on knowing that it was no one's fault but mine?

I could and I did. I left that church. I was me again. I forgave everyone, especially myself. I was happy and, for the first time in a very long time, I love being in my own skin. I know that there are reasons for everything, for every little thing, for every big thing, for the things you think will ruin your life. It didn't though. I'm not ruined. I'm not sad or regretful or bitter. I walked away, unharmed, a little smarter. I look back only because I my friends ask me to help them. "Give me the truth," they say. And I do. I give them every part of me, every segment lived and pained. I tell them they don't have to worry because they will walk away from it eventually. They will look back sometimes only to remind themselves that there is no greater happiness than now. They will get over it. We all do.

I should know.

Faithless

It's depressing to watch something you've cherished slowly come to an end. Though my eyes are bloodshot from crying, I cannot hide from the inevitable. If this is the way things have to be, I've come to accept it.

There's nothing left to fight over, fight about, or fight for.

There are only days left and I know the minutes will last a lifetime.

On exercise

If exercise means running back and forth in your living room, hands flailing to the sound of island music, while you clumsily try to catch up with the instructor on the DVD, then I'm two days into my resolution.

Talk about terrible hand and leg coordination. I step four strides to the right and four to the left and stretch my arm and clap to the beat. I look like I'm doing the hokey pokey to salsa music.

Lift right leg, raise left arm, lunge forward, bend knees, twist ankle, pull legs over your head and exhale. The last time I saw a pose like this was in Kama Sutra The Movie. I was thinking, "You want me to do what now?" I try it anyway and realize I'm an old lady. I lie down as flat as I can on my back, lift my legs 65 degrees and give up. My legs are so heavy I teeter over to the other side. There has got to be another way to do this.

Anyway, all the pounding on the floor wakes my brother up, who is sleeping on the couch. A little embarrassed, I tell him to continue the nap in his room. He looks at me funny and goes back to sleep. My dog stares at me in confusion and decides to follow me as I shuffle from one side of the room to the other.

I'm all for this losing weight stuff. Besides, it only takes a good 40 minutes a day. I figure, instead of complaining about how fat I am, I might as well do something about it. So, I'm back to fruits and vegetables and fiber. No more weird cravings for chocolate and popcorn. I don't know how long I can keep up with this.

Maybe I will just take it one day at a time.

Happy Birthday Ma!

Happy Birthday Mom!

Here's to my best friend and the greatest Mom in the world.

Your wisdom is my wisdom. That's why I'm so [such a] smart[ass].

My mom is great because

she tells me I'm pretty [when no one else will]

she tells me I'm fat [by taking away the extra slice of cake]

she tells me I'm smart [when I feel like a dumbshit]

May you have fifty more!

I love you!

On being a dumbshit

I've read many things, especially on Friendster profiles, about pain being a part of love. I do admit, stupidly, that I used to hold that as my soul truth. But that's really not true at all. Love doesn't have to hurt for it to be real. There's no official documentation that states loves causes pain and death and eternal mental anguish. Love is pain and pain is love is some poet's distorted way of saying "I know I'm a dumbshit for staying with this person, but I'm gonna do it anyway." I should know. I was once that dumbshit. And if you think I'm saying all of this now because I think my Francis is the most perfect man in the world, well he is- haha. Die of envy, for all I care.

Seriously, though. Of course Francis is not perfect. No man is. We have our moments when we're two inches away from strangling each other. Sometimes we argue about everything. But, see, it doesn't hurt to love him. I don't walk around with my head between my legs wondering what I got myself into. I don't put up with bullshit, either. Love, when you have it, is freedom. I know, coming from me, that's puke-worthy, but here's the truth:

You can be yourself freely with someone when you can shake your bonbon during commercials, pop gas in the middle of an intimate conversation, laugh like a moron on Valentine's day at the beach while the sun is setting, say the funniest thing in the middle of a heated argument, sing so off-key your dog starts howling, and, at the end of the day, you know that person will still be there, ready to share the next moment with you.

Love is a choice. It's a choice of all sorts. You choose what you do when you love, you choose the way you behave when you love, you choose to let the person you love treat you the way they do. If you sit there and pine and hurt and cry, that is your choice. Sometimes, it's a good choice because crying and hurting are okay. Though, when you've been sitting there in the same corner not having seen the light of day for the past couple of years, you don't have love, you have mentally insane tattooed on your forehead. If your friends buy you a straightjacket for Christmas, it's time for you to pick your ass up and move on.

I'm not a dumbshit anymore. On the contrary, I think the smartest thing I've done is listen to my instincts. My head is where it should be (no where close to a wall to bang on), my heart is whole, I smile more, I'm comfortable with who I am and confident of who I can be. I look forward to going home. I don't dread tomorrow.

I'm in love and it doesn't hurt.

On fungus

Exes are like fungus. No matter how hard you try to get rid of them, they come back when you least expect it.

The other day, I spoke with an old friend (common to LL and I), who told me about certain confessions made on Valentine's day. It turns out, while I was enjoying myself at the beach, LL was pouring his heart out.

Boo-fucking-hoo.

It was all basically about how he regrets losing me and that he still loves me and if he ever had another chance...blah blah blah.

Obviously, it's too late.

And just for shits and giggles, I want everyone to know how triumphant I feel. This is victory, many years in the making. Though I don't want him to suffer the rest of his life, he deserves to feel that void.

I feel kind of bad that I'm gloating. So fucking what.

Bwahahahahahahahahahaha. (Me pointing a finger at him, laughing because I'm done with his sorry ass.)

Back to ME

I used to write this blog for myself, but then when I realized that people were actually reading it, I found it harder for me to write. I guess it made me a little more conscious of what I wrote, trying less to offend people or give a little too much insight on what I feel at certain points in my life. I have begun to cater to the needs of the reader (though, I'm not sure anymore that my friends still read this as often as they used to), which is not good. This blog is for me. It has served as an outlet for the feelings and ideas I have of the people and situations that constitute my life. So, from now on, I will write (again) what I please. To those who take offense, get over it! My life does not revolve around you. This is for those who understand me and know that there is no sense in taking all this personally, because there is nothing I say here that I don't say to their face.

The one that Francis likes

I can't believe this! I've forgotten my friends' blog addresses. I lost them since I changed my template. I decided, last week, that an old brown parchment-looking template didn't suit my needs any longer, and the dull gray one does. I want to find Yeng and Lala, my cousin Julie and my friend Jerwin. I need those addresses again.

I don't feel so good today. I can barely breathe (and it's not because my jeans seem a little too tight). I feel as if I'm constipated, but I know I'm not. I wish I were home right now...which reminds me, I went to the doctor last week. He told me to relax and stop stressing out. I have too many ailments for someone my age- pains in my chest, hyper-acidity, numbing legs. I've come to the point where I don't think as much about certain things, but I tend to go to the extreme. My family either thinks I make a big deal out of nothing or I'm offensively indifferent. I grew up, Mom says, with very little reaction to anything. I've always had the same facial expression- blank.

Mom is leaving for the Philippines again and I'm having panic attacks. Uck. Happens every time. I feel like a kid. Separation anxiety becomes me. I wonder if I can make it without her sound advice and her beside me. Seriously, as independent as I am, I don't know if I could take the risks that I've had if she weren't there watching. Independence can only go so far.

Francis will be here for the weekend. I'm sooooo effing excited. Finally, I have someone who fully understands how much I still loathe Valentine's Day. Although, I do admit, this Vday was the best.

I've been trying to finish this entry for the past two weeks. It's already the 21st of Feb. and I still haven't posted it. I don't know if I lack the time to write or I just can't put the words on paper anymore.

Everyone is still sad at home because Mom's not there. Even my dog still mopes around waiting for her. I did finally clean the house and hopefully we can maintain it. I mean everyone has their own rooms. This may seem mundane, but for a family as big as mine, it's hard to keep track of who's making the mess. I think this is my accomplishment for the week.

My resolution

I don't know where this thing came from. You know that funny, irky feeling, like you have a twitch in the head- the one that makes you look kind of CRAZY? Sometimes, when the days are still and all I hear are my thoughts, I want to knock myself unconscious. Sometimes, I wonder how good it would be to be dumb- you know, ignorance is bliss.

Lately, I've been paranoid (more than usual is more like it). I blame it on good memory. Good memory leads to remembering experiences. The remembering leads to what I think I learned from the past. In some sordid way, this all causes my paranoia that history will eventually repeat itself.

I have to stop this and be fair to myself and to those I care about. I should give myself more credit and less to the ones that hurt me in the past.

I will pray more-

-not to forget, but to forgive.

-to let go of my mistakes.

-to relax and give myself a break.
-to love those that I cherish.
-to show more kindness and less anger.
-to let those who cherish me love me.
-to be grateful that all I ever needed has been given to me.
-to accept that I am where I need to be at this perfect moment.

Maybe then will I stop hearing the voices in my head, the ghosts will rest and I can begin again.