23

It's been a while, yes?

I'm happy to report that I have been doing something new everyday, though I've opted not to post everything here and instead just enjoy the moments as they come. It's been one crazy, crazy summer. The highs and lows have got my head spinning in all directions, and I'm just appreciating this down time and using it to take it all in.

I'm 23 now. Twenty-three years. I'm a daughter, sister, friend, fiancee, employee, wingman, cousin, granddaughter, niece, acquaintance, colleague. I have to admit I'm not always good at being some, and sometimes even all of the above, all at once. Growing up is a flurry of joy and pain and confusion, and I think I can say I'm doing my best. We're all doing our best.

--

Things I've learned this year:

1. Happiness is a choice, and also, a sort of lucky thing. Choose it; don't take it for granted.

2. Friends support each other and enjoy each other's company. That's all there is to it.

3. If you don't enjoy conversations with your partner the most, leave. Now.

4. People change. It doesn't mean they love you any less.

5. People leave, and yes, that does mean that they've found something they love a little more than you. It's just the way it is. Someday someone will leave something else for you. You probably will, too.

6. Bad luck is universal. Don't take it personally.

7. Airports are both the saddest and happiest places. Appreciate everyone who goes through them - they come out stronger.

8. When people love you, it doesn't give you the right to test them.

9. Breathe deep, then let it go. Sometimes it's all you can do.

--

Last year, I said that the happiest times in my life are moments I spend with good company. That still holds true, but now I realize that one's happiness shouldn't depend on other people. I can be my own good company, too.

no place that's home

This weekend, I realized every place I live in has become dusty just cos I move around so much. My bed at home gathers dust when I'm away, my corner in Manila becomes a dustbin when I leave cos it's the last place anyone wants to sleep in so I usually have to take that spot, and I'm the only one who uses my the extra room in my Grandma's house whenever my Dad's out of town and I won't have anyone with me at the house, so whenever I'm not there the room goes stale. I move an average of six times a month. Brian couldn't stop sneezing everywhere the entire weekend.

I guess that says a lot about how I treat all these places I stay at. They've all become temporary to me for quite some time now so I find no attachment towards them, not even my own house. I never stay long enough to appreciate their comforts. It's like I can leave anytime and it would be alright. The only stuff I give importance to now are the clothes I lug around and the important things in my handbag. And some books.

No flash realization or lightbulb~ here. It just makes me a little sad.

eternal sunshine

Clementine: This is it, Joel. It's going to be gone soon.
Joel: I know.
Clementine: What do we do?
Joel: Enjoy it.


(Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind)


--


I've been on extremes these days - from creepy loneliness to a lot of laughs. When I'm alone, it makes me feel depressed. It's not just that I'm alone, but what makes me really sad is the reason why I am. When I'm with friends or talking to Bri on the phone, it makes me really happy. And I'm always grateful for the time I get to spend happy.


But what makes the roller coaster of emotions difficult is that it kind of instills another emotion, one that's constant - fear. I'm afraid when I'm lonely AND when I'm happy. When I'm lonely, I get scared of the thoughts I would think and the ugly emotions I would feel. When I'm happy, I'm afraid I'm not making full use of that moment, and I'm always fearful of what's to come cos I know that that moment's gonna end soon, and in a few minutes I'd be driving home or watching TV alone again.


I need to get off my butt and do what I can to shake it off. Now.

At 21

It's funny all the things they say about being by yourself - that it's important to do this from time to time to collect your thoughts, rest your head, make sense of things. And then there are all these quotes about how being alone is different from being lonely, how you can discover new things when you venture out with no one but yourself.

Maybe I don't know how to do it, but looking back now, I realize that the only times in my life I really regret are the moments I spent without the people I love beside me.

little heartstrings

I've forgotten how to be a kid.

I was standing at a Genevieve Gozum store today, waiting for my friend to pay for a dress she picked out, my arms leaning on a glass display case filled with crystal imitation pieces sparkling under the harsh light, tarnished nickel rings and baubles, fancy gems made of plastic. Tacky little things. My thoughts exactly were "I wonder if anyone out there ever buys these things," followed with "oh, I used to. Wow." 

In my drawer at home I have a paper box I covered with shiny wrapping paper and filled up with these tiny jewels back when I was younger - friendship rings, necklaces made of shells brought home by friends from their trips, little crocheted bracelets to symbolize our togetherness. A tiny trinket was always enough to make someone feel like they belong. 

For a moment, I wished I could bring back that easily fascinated part of me again.

reason why

I hate how my mind seems to be working all the frickin' time. Part of the reason why most of my blog entries circle around trying to make sense of things. I can't sleep at night. It's tiring.

When I get upset I spend hours thinking of why I'm upset and why I shouldn't be so that I'm not anymore. Like all the brave and the foolish, I use my head to control my emotions. Why do I expect too much? Why do I give too little? Why am I here in the first place? How do I make up for it? Is there a God? Why does my mother piss me off so much and how can I make sure I never turn into her? Whatever happened to that dream I had? Is there ever a right time to say goodbye? Is true love just once in a lifetime? Did the captain of the Titanic cry? (Yeah yeah, Mandy does it better.)

And all the things left unsaid!

I have a confession. I have a confession, I have a confession, I have a confession to make.

Pardon me. I didn't get any sleep last night.

--

On a happy note, Ra-ra-rasputin (lover of the Russian queen) is still playing gayly in my head. And in my mind my hands are still waving to "Come now citizens of the world... We are one... We are one." Don't you just love karaoke?

if loving's giving

"You've got to love yourself if you could ever love me..."

The damned Lifehouse song has been playing over and over in my head and I can't seem to get it out. I have to admit it's had me thinking though. To a certain extent I guess I agree with that line. But then again, experience seems to say loving yourself and loving another, both completely, rarely go together. We're human - imperfect people loving other imperfect people. At first, we get one little smile from the object of our affection and everything comes up roses for days on end. As the relationship progresses, a smile may be romantic but now it's gotta be coupled with an actual bouquet. The longer we are with someone, it's only realistic to acknowledge that we expect more from the other person. I don't know, maybe it's because we like to believe that by then they know us better and can predict what we might want.

Loving till it hurts is good, but it never ends well. The "hurt" part makes sure it doesn't end well. And maybe Kens and Stepford wives can love and just go on loving without wanting to be loved back, but not the human heart. I don't know why. Let me know when you find out.

One great thing about being human is the ability to forgive, and the capacity for unconditional love. Some of us know that it's not what we get out of it but what we can put in, and I think that's amazing. But this mindset can be deadly, too, especially when we're pining for someone who just isn't there, and who we know won't ever be.

What I'm trying to say is: if all else fails - like the way to get rid of that annoying song that just isn't healthy anymore (for your sanity, of course) - the best way to heal a heart's to start humming a different tune.

true luck

Many times we like to believe things of ourselves, no matter how seemingly far from reality. Some of us believe we are artists at heart, that we can create beautiful things out of our own experiences. Some pretend to be writers, clack-clack-clacking along our keyboards, just waiting for someone to discover how wonderfully we can interpret the world. Even with the clothes we wear we have the ability to transform ourselves into characters of our choosing. From Shakespeare we quote, all the world's a stage, and we all, players. Maybe it is, in fact, "as you like it."

Reality, of course, is rarely as dramatic. Most of us go through our day to day activities - writing up reports instead of poetry, drawing graphs instead of landscapes. In our minds we travel the world and are princes and princesses of our own fairy tales, but how often have you heard of people really living their dream lives? The people who break out of the mould are the people we applaud. I like to believe that we revere them not only because of their talents, but because we see something we want to find in ourselves - courage, and that thirst for a life that is truly owned. 

On the other hand, perhaps it is the human flaw - never being where we want to be, no matter where or what it is we are. People who live in Norway wish they lived in Hawaii, the ones who live in Hawaii want to live in New York, those in the Philippines wish they lived somewhere else - oh, our race gives new meaning to the words "anywhere but here." Of course, there are those who are happy right where they are. But I find that, more often than not, this is a moment rather than a constant - fleeting and arbitrary.

Sometimes it gets depressing - wanting to be but not being, never being, but dreaming instead. How much of life is allocated for dreaming anyway? Is there a quota, or a limit where we say "enough is enough"? We pity those who dream their lives away, but imagine someone who has never dreamt. The extremes are almost always never the answer.

So when we aren't living out the life we want - is it alright to go on wishing?

People say it's the journey and not the destination, and I agree, I agree. And lucky are we who find that someone out there who believes in our dreams - that person who will click open the umbrella when we say "today I want to believe that it's pouring" though there isn't a drop of rain in sight. Maybe it's because our dreams are the true windows to who we are. And when someone loves our dreams, we know for sure that they love us, too - "us" being the human beings who will always be dreaming the silly dreams, that may or may not come true.

Maybe it isn't when our dreams come true that we are happiest. Maybe it's when we truly believe in them, and find that there are others who believe with us, that we find the reason why we have dreams in the first place. 

Today I'm forcing myself to write about why I don't write anymore, just to make some sense of it, maybe.

I used to write a lot of things - worried thoughts, discoveries, trivialities... Everything can be made to sound good anyway. But these days I rather not write because I think too quickly - when did I learn to give myself such high praise? Laugh with me here. There's an example of making something sound good. I tell myself I think too quickly, when more likely, it's just become harder and harder for me to remember - to keep things in my head before I even get to write them down. Keep has to be the most fragile word don't you think? It's the saddest to me, too. To keep is the biggest deception of all. But I suppose it is the struggle that makes remembrance such a symphony.

Forgive the theories littered in this entry; this is a journal of "whys," no less. Maybe I don't write because writing has lost its meaning - maybe it never had one in the first place. What has it been to me but a means to an end? I never want writing to be a weapon or an instrument; it is too fragile to ever use, lest it be damaged by my coarse hands, my untamed mind.

People write because they want to tell a story, to others or to themselves. Some people write to define things: how their day went, how life treats them, what something meant - how it doesn't matter, how it might. Some people write to remember. Some to forget.

In my experience, people usually only write with one person in mind anyway. We open up our lives to strangers when we write journals and post them online but at the end of the day, there's this one person we hope would read it - to be blunt about it, someone whose attention we are craving for. As we secretly think of them thinking of us, maybe they begin to. Such a cliche, throwing things into the wind and hoping it carries something back to us.

Nowadays my life holds no secrets. Maybe that's why I don't write anymore. I don't need to write things down for bait, because I have the person I want to talk to with me, and he isn't hidden in haze or ambiguities. Even as I write this I see his face clearly, and it looks at me with quiet understanding. He will know more about me than any blog entry will ever ask him to. Here I realize, instead of stopping me from writing, this should free me. And it does. Now I can write for myself, or for what I'm writing about - for anything I wish.

If you don't do it, it will cease to exist. Writing, I mean. And I never want it to. Too many things fade away in this life. Writing shouldn't be one of them. Why? Because some things just have to be passed on. Life's too heartbreakingly beautiful to not. And writing's all about it. It can't exist without.

My difficulty in writing is in making sense of it. Why do I write? To change the world? We all know better. Writing is the struggle for a balance between oneself and the world around him. It can be powerful beyond measure - what do you want people to see? How do you want them to think? ...Do you really want a part in all of it? The questions that are hardest to deal with are the ones without a proper answer. You can always say what you think, but you will never know. And that is how writing goes. All you really know is that you have written.

I suppose the rest is figuring little things out along the way.

a good memory is the best education

I've been thinking about change a lot - it scares me, thinking of how I might be someday, how people can turn into someone they never wanted to become. But then I stumbled upon this part of Fr. Danny Huang's graduation mass homily and it reminded me of how and why some things endure, why faith isn't always foolish, and why we are human - why, when we love, we try not to forget.


"...In the final chapter of his (Dostoyevsky's) great novel, The Brothers Karamazov, the monk Alyosha, the good and gentle brother, says goodbye to a group of boys he has befriended and mentored. They are sad because they must part. In their sadness, Alyosha invites his young friends to remember: to remember always the days of their friendship and camaraderie. I ask you to remember always, he tells them. Because, he says in a memorable phrase, a good memory is the best education. We will leave each other and go our separate ways. Life will happen to us and change us, sometimes, not for the better. But, Alyosha adds, if life tempts us to become cynical or bitter or cruel, if we remember these golden days of our friendship, if we remember how we dreamed together, how we were kind to one another, how we were good, then maybe, just maybe, that memory will save us, and draw us away from the forces of darkness that are always threatening to vanquish and capture us.

...May these memories bring you joy, bring you salvation, take you back home."

growing pains

Many of my favorite books are being turned into movies this year - The Lovely Bones, The Time Traveler's Wife, Twilight, Blindness and The Secret Life of Bees. They could make the films horrible as hell - just remember these stories were first written into books, and not screenplays, for a reason.

Right now I'm looking for the elusive Girlfriend in a Coma by Douglas Coupland, which is supposed to be an excellent read.

--

Work has been taking its toll on me. I haven't seen my friends in weeks, my throat's been sore for a month, the witch (calling her "mother" gives me nightmares) has been making sure I stay dead on the inside. I need to make a happy list, quick.

1. I'm in Taiwan, albeit for more work (WTH tin, it's a happy list. Focus.)
2. I love plane food.

Okay I can't do it. These days, the unhappy list outweighs the happy list, big time.

People say it's growing pains. I used to think growing up was such a cliche. Now I feel it's so real, I can almost touch it.

2008 is just not my year.

let it go

Laugh it off and let it go, as Hilary Duff would say.

Any other way will just drive you mad, really.

Come tomorrow it will seem so yesterday.

(self-help-ing)

never alone

Just a few months ago I was in a crazy rut, and an article on Inquirer Super by Pam Pastor was one of the things that saved me.

From The never-alone generation:

"Hearing people my age complain about loneliness in ludicrous - we are never alone. We are living in an age where we are forced to interact with people every day and have been equipped with all the gadgets needed to do so... Don't fool yourself into believing no one understands you. In a world where there are websites devoted to people blowing gummi bears up in their microwaves, there is always someone to connect with, no matter how strange you think you are."

And then she gives advice on how to "Beat loneliness in 10 ways" -

If the bug bites, here's how you can kill it:

1. Pick up the phone and call a friend.
2. Look up old friends on Facebook, Friendster, MySpace and Multiply and reconnect.
3. Answer your neglected e-mails.
4. Send text messages to friends.
5. Visit your grandparents.
6. Offer to babysit your younger siblings or your friend/cousin/sister’s kids.
7. Get a pet.
8. Volunteer for a reading program.
9. Join a hobby club.
10. Read a book.

even need's a choice

It's Disney Playhouse on the Disney Channel. No, not a Disney Channel Original Movie or The Suite Life of Zack and Cody, not even Totally Spies. What 4-year old would be up at this ungodly hour? Maybe parents watch this to de-stress. Or maybe elders watch it to remember better days. 

How sad. Highly unlikely, though.

---

I read a blog entry today by Jacques Jimeno, and if you mention his name it's not plagiarism anymore right? Get this.

NEED, SPACE, EXCUSES                                                                                

In one of my favorite movies ever, Closer, (2004) Alice (Natalie Portman) confronts Dan (Jude Law) with his affair with Anna (Julia Roberts):

Alice: Is it because she's successful?
Dan: No. It's because... she doesn't need me.

Why does "the need" scare us? Doesn't love constitute a great amount of need? Isn't it a package deal?

I heard one of my friend's friend broke up with his boyfriend. She said she needed space. She said she couldn't get the sleep that she needs because the boy hangs out with her too much. She said she couldn't study because the boy always wants to be with her. She was choking. She couldn't breathe. She needed space. Haven't I heard this story bef~ oh right!

We can talk our way out of this. We don't have to break up. If it's space that you want, I'll give you space. If you think we talk to much, I'll learn to shut up. If you think we hang out too much, I'll stay away but please don't deprive myself of you. I promise I'll change. I'll be better for you. I swear I won't call you every hour. I won't bother you when you're studying. I am sorry. I promise not to love you as much.

We fall out of love. It's not our fault, maybe. Watching too much Wong Kar-wai films taught me that everything has an expiration date. A love expires - we just wish that it wouldn't be in our lifetime. But for most of us who are more unfortunte, we need excuses for falling out of love. To cushion the blow, so to speak. To make the heart that loves us break easily. But the heart will still break into little fucking pieces and that's not going to fucking change. So quit all these fucking excuses and give a dignified heartbreak. And mean it.

Today, I lost my umbrella. And this entry is an excuse.

---

I say this guy got it just right.

And contrary to popular belief, you always have a choice.

5 months after

All this beach and sun and not being able to enjoy it and being alone with a ton of work is making me feel a little woozy. I haven't eaten a decent meal in days 'cause I hate eating alone, and beer doesn't even help anymore. Drinking alone's no fun.

Even worse, I'm beginning to remember stuff, it's like things finally caught up to me. I remember college graduation day, where I was probably the most sloppily made-up graduate. Even Father Ben looked surprised when he gave me my diploma, I don't know if it was just me but I think I sensed some disappointment there. I had almost zero make-up on, my hair was in a messy bun which I tied minutes before I went up the stage, my shoes were hurting the skin on my ankles and my dress was plain black (I was counting on the toga to hide how simple it was, of course). I could have been attending a funeral instead of my grad day. The worst (or best?) part was that I didn't care one bit. I had so many things that needed packing up back in the dorm and my parents expected them to be all boxed up and tidy that same day. My dorm room was still a pigsty.

It's September 1, 5 months after grad and I'm settling into this new life - work and family. I don't miss schoolwork at all, but I do miss my friends, and all that free time we had together. I miss not having a schedule, when I can eat what I want when I want, study when I feel like it, go out whenever and wherever I please. Now my life is so organized - work in the morning from Monday 'til Saturday, family dinners at night, coffee with friends on Fridays, family day on Sunday, and the cycle goes on and on. I'm not really complaining, I do appreciate the rhythm and how organized it's made me, but sometimes it feels like I'm going nowhere. So maybe work here on the beach, albeit alone, is a welcome break after all.

Books, along with my friends, are my solace. The cycle feels like a heavy weight on me sometimes, so I read like crazy, as if that would keep me afloat. I just finished Tobias Wolff's This Boy's Life, by the way. After I read it I wanted to open it up and examine it to see how it became so simple yet so whole.

I'm sorry this entry is such a downer. Now I'm torn between wanting to go home to my static schedule and staying here alone.

fight

Such a negative word it's become, don't you think? It involves having your head bashed in, your dignity trampled on, your feelings hurt, your girlfriend dumping you, your parents screaming at you or all of the above.

But since a friend of mine got involved in Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC), he's been quite the changed man. He used to have, well, all of the above happening to him almost all the time back in high school, but now he's disciplined and even-tempered. One of the most important rules of UFC is never to fight outside the ring, and suffice to say my friend doesn't have the usual hot-blooded enemies anymore.

I guess that's the difference turning fighting into a sport makes.

----

And suddenly, this quote makes even more sense -

The most important thing is to be able to think what you want, not to say what you want. And if you feel you have to say everything you think, it may inhibit you from thinking improper thoughts. I think it's better to follow the opposite policy. Draw a sharp line between your thoughts and your speech. Inside your head, anything is allowed. Within my head I make a point of encouraging the most outrageous thoughts I can imagine. But, as in a secret society, nothing that happens within the building should be told to outsiders. The first rule of Fight Club is, you do not talk about Fight Club.

-Paul Graham

waiting

Another day in front of the computer. You too, huh? Sometimes I wonder what they think of us, spending most of our time blogging or checking out friends on Friendster for the nth time instead of going out there and living our lives. We have to admit, the office mate who checks his e-mail a thousand times a day can't possibly be employee of the month or the one on the fast-track to a great career. The classmate who spends all his time watching funny videos on Youtube instead of studying those required documentaries on world history (his major) probably isn't too sure about what he wants out of life. (Of course there are those who have found their ends on the web or are utilizing the internet in fulfillment of their dreams. Or just plain venting on the internet. Or using it to share photos... Yeah, the list goes on. As such, the 'yous' in this entry exclude these people.)

But then there are those among us who do know, or who have a burning desire to know what we want, it's just that we can't figure it out yet. We might still be searching for it, or maybe we just plain can't go after our dreams. May it be a financial crisis, familial duties or a physical disability, most, if not all of us, have been there. Some call these excuses; sometimes it's reality. (Of course we have to know where to draw the line.)

We always have a choice. In the midst of crisis and circumstances, we can still choose to pack up and go after what we really want. Instead some of us stay, and in front of our computers we wait. When our chances come, we'll pounce like we've never pounced before. At least that's what I tell myself.

'Til that day comes... let's just say I'll be hanging around here and bumping into some of you, in this imaginary waiting room we fondly, and quite aptly, refer to as the world wide web.

online

Sometimes I wonder about the number of people sitting in front of their computers, whether it be in their offices, homes, schools, libraries, malls, dorms - wherever. Back in college, most of our time in the dorm would be spent online - chatting on YM, checking our Friendster, Multiply or Blogger accounts. If anything productive ever came of it, I don't think I would ever be able to measure. How do you measure friendships made and lost, that awful nagging feeling that you're being unproductive but you can't help it ("But People.com is just so addicting!"), the kilig from online flirtations, or that unique sense of 'online connectedness'? How do you measure what you become?

Here I am five months after college, and the only thing that hasn't changed is that I still have a computer in front of me for most of the day. It's important to note that it's a computer with constant internet connection - I think there's a HUGE difference between a computer with internet connection and a computer that doesn't. Being online, even if I'm not chatting up anyone on YM, poking someone on Facebook or updating my blog, gives me that strange feeling of being connected with people. Sure, we can say that e-mails and text messaging have indirectly allowed people to alienate themselves from the world, but I think it's also given us a semi-safe way of approaching the world at our own pace. Today we poke once on Facebook, tomorrow we may be poking each other in person. More importantly, it gives us a chance to poke into each other's minds. We think we're entering just another website, but, to put it vividly, we are actually shaking each other's hand - well, in cyberspace.

"Society is a masked ball, where every one hides his real character, and reveals it in hiding." ---Ralph Waldo Emerson

It's a strange, interesting world we live in don't you think? I hope you do approach it, whichever way you choose.