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.

Friday it is.....

Today is Friday. This is a great thing! 'Nuff said.

Sober......

Sober by Jennifer Paige

Girl meets boy, girl goes crazy
Boy looks away, she gets her heart broken
No words are spoken
Boy comes back and acts
As if everything is cool
Soon she's got him back on a pedestal
She only sees what she wants to see
Love is blind, love is so misleading

I see the light, oh what a light
And I am sober
All that you served to me
No longer will I drink it in
I took the time to think it over
I see the you that I never knew
Now it's finally sinking in
I am sober

Girl wakes up and smells the coffee one day
Realizes she's on her own again
All alone again
Boy takes every opportunity
To play on every insecurity
Get her back on track
She's in a daze, back in the fire
But will she cave into her old desires

I WANT TO TRAIN HARD TO BE ABLE TO WALL CLIMB!!! (THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE SONG...) BEING SOBER, THOUGH, IS GREAT!

The best friend syndrome

Ok, so I went to the gym twice this week, which is good. Why didn’t I think of using shopping as motivation before. I’ve always felt that everything was impossible. That I couldn’t save, that I couldn’t make time, that I couldn’t do the things that I wanted to do. There was always some kind of excuse for something. My outlook has changed completely and I am different now.

Random thoughts

My take on:

FH and MN
They both need to grow. Better done when apart. Maybe someday their paths might cross.

Being single
Always a blessing.

The grocery strike
This is really selfish of me, but I want that thing to be done and over with. I need to buy food for my family and it’s a pain in the ass to shop at Ralph’s. I don’t support their issue nor am I against it. The only reason I don’t cross the picket line is that they always have something to say. I’ve always believed that when groups of people get together to fight for a cause, then it is of much concern to them, it is close to their hearts. Be it right or wrong, I don’t know what it feels like to be in their place and experience the same hardship. And I pray that I never will. However, I figure it’ll be easier for them if I shop somewhere else.

Sometimes:
I wonder if the next guy I meet is the one. When I walk into the grocery store in my biker shorts and large t-shirt, I wonder if I’ll meet him in the frozen food section. Will he be the barista who mixes up my order and forgets that I want non-fat milk? Or is he a neighbor? I don’t see me being with someone who is already in my life. But since my awakening from that looooong sleep, everything seems possible. Though there isn’t anyone I would ever consider someone possible, I can’t say that it won’t happen for sure. I have acquired the bitter taste of eating my words, so best to keep my conclusions to myself.

I was also thinking about the fact that I have so many guy buddies and none of them are prospects. I, too, am no prospect to any of them. This is weird because there is nothing wrong, at all, with my guy buds. And they all say that whoever wins my heart is going to be very lucky. They know this, I have yet to confirm this, but why haven’t they acted on it. Have I turned into the eternal best friend? Is that what I am doomed to be? Forever?

Time to rest…

Reunion

I was late again on Friday. I have this strong affinity to my bed. It’s like someone I miss all the time. I think it’s because I don’t spend enough time in it.

I actually woke up because of my alarm, though, at the time that it beeped, I didn’t know what the hell it was. So, I got up from my bed to look for the freakin’ sound. Lo’ and behold, it was the damn alarm. It actually works. After turning it off, I turned around and saw my unmade bed. It was very inviting indeed. I jumped back in and didn’t wake up till 7 a.m. (when Jeff called). Damn it.

That same day, we went to Marj’s house. There was an impromptu reunion among the STC folks. No one has changed. All grown up, yet still the same. It felt kind of weird that we were actually talking about pap smears and living in with boy friends and work. Things they would never have thought of when we were in high school. Things that FH and I thought of when we were in high school. Good thing everyone else caught up. LOL.

It’s another Sunday. I’m a late sleeper on Sunday. I should go and wash the dishes now.

And another one...(junior year in college...very...umm...just very)...

Last Goodbye by Jeff Buckley

This is our last goodbye
I hate to feel the love between us die
But it’s over
Just hear this and then I’ll go
You gave me more to live for
More than you’ll ever know

This is our last embrace
Must I dream and always see your face
Why can’t we overcome this wall
Well, maybe it’s just because I didn’t know you at all

Kiss me, please kiss me
But kiss me out of desire, babe, and not consolation
You know it makes me so angry ’cause I know that in time
I’ll only make you cry, this is our last goodbye

Did you say ’no, this can’t happen to me,’
And did you rush to the phone to call
Was there a voice unkind in the back of your mind
Saying maybe you didn’t know him at all
You didn’t know him at all, oh, you didn’t know

Well, the bells out in the church tower chime
Burning clues into this heart of mine
Thinking so hard on her soft eyes and the memories
Offer signs that it’s over... it’s over

ONE OF MY FAVORITE SONGS IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD. THIS REMINDS OF THE MORNINGS I WOULD GET READY FOR SCHOOL, AS THE DAYLIGHT PEAKED THROUGH MY DUSTY CURTAINS. I WOULD HUM THE SONG WHILE I WALKED TO THE JEEPNEY STOP AT THE END OF MY STREET (WHICH INTERSECTED BANAWE). THEN I'D RIDE THE FX TO SCHOOL WITH LSS (LAST SONG SYNDROME). I WISH I WERE 18 AGAIN...ANY AGE THAT HAD THE SUFFIX "TEEN" IN IT. LOL.

The connection that CB and LL have to this song is ironic. AGO had me listen to this song because it was supposedly my theme song for LL. On the other hand, CB and I connected because he was surprised I knew the artist and the song when we heard it on the soundtrack of "Vanilla Sky." Hmmm...(lost in thought)

Song of the Day (well, the past two days, to be exact...)...

Warning Sign by Cold Play

A warning sign
I missed the good part then I realised
I started looking and the bubble burst
I started looking for excuses
Come on in, I’ve gotta tell you what a state I’m in
I’ve gotta tell you in my loudest tones
That I started looking for a warning sign
When the truth is
I miss you
Yeah the truth is
That I miss you so

A warning sign
You came back to haunt me and I realised
That you were an island and I passed you by
And you were an island to discover
Come on in, I’ve gotta tell you what a state I’m in
I’ve gotta tell you in my loudest tones
That I started looking for a warning sign

And the truth is
I miss you
Yeah the truth is
I miss you so
And I’m tired
I should not have let you go

So I crawl back into your open arms
Yes I crawl back into your open arms
And I crawl back into your open arms
Yes I crawl back into your open arms

End of the rope

I am done…

Absolutely done, and all that is left is me. And this is good. Let me run down the list to refresh my memory:

Fb – done. Too dramatic. He is the fallback…it is never fair to make someone your fallback…because you think he’s close to perfect, but you know you can never be with him because you don't truly love him. I absolutely cannot stomach the possible experience.

LL – done. Stretched too thin…everything…I pray that I have the sense to remind myself never to love anyone the way I “loved” him; to the point of self-destruction. I can never bear to feel pity for myself ever again. It was a good 10 years and, boy, have I learned my lesson. Face what is in front of you, and do not, I repeat, do not create another world in your own mind. This will make you crazy.

Anime – done. Too late…too fucking late.

Tisoy – done. It was over the moment I wrote that letter…it was over the moment I decided to visit LL at the hospital…it was over the moment I didn’t admit to myself that I was lonely. This one, I will always love, just not in that way.

CB – done…ah…yeah, this one is done too. No more midnight, daytime, mid-afternoon, on-my-way-home daydreaming. Today I spoke to Lester, and the signs were not so good. And I will never put myself out there again. And I will choose the friends I call out to. And I will choose the ones that I will keep secrets from. And I will stop manipulating the situation. And I will stop hoping for something so unreachable that my arm could fall off from constant reaching.

This is who will come to me…

A man who is real
Who is not embarrassed to make me laugh
Who is comfortable in his own skin
But is also someone comfortable enough to admit his insecurities
A man who is great to his family
A man who is great to his mother
A man who knows what “no” means when I say it
A man who knows what “no” doesn’t mean when I say it
A man who will talk to me about anything, about God, about love, about sports, about cars, about people, about leg hair, about statues and mountains, about tables and chairs and bananas and death
A man who will listen when I rant, and console me when I cry
A man who will be patient when I whine and who will hug me when I open my arms to him
A man who is smart, who knows how to cross the street, who knows how to kick ass, who knows when to back down, who knows what it feels like to fail, to fool around, to pretend that he’s someone else
A man that is not perfect, but perfect for me

Bow.