Why She Doesn't

Ever since I watched "The Village", a line has been stuck in my head. Finally, I found the exact quote that Ivy Walker's character said:
"Sometimes we don't do what we want to do because we're afraid that other people will know that we want to do them."

Kind of like when you know someone reads your blog, but they don't want you to know that they do. So they leave no footprint where they pass. No tag, no comment, no email, no PM, nothing. And he thinks, well, hey, she's forgotten me. Like what happened with a male friend. He then goes to some other person's blog, and BOOM. The friend comments there. And then another blog. She comments there too. And another. And another. And he wonders, does she not like me anymore? Doesn't she even read my blog anymore? Did I do something wrong?

I dare say you did not, dear friend. If she is as quiet on your blog as she is rowdy and talkative in another's, there is a reason. I dare say she can't bring herself to do what she knows you want her to do, because then you'll know that she has wanted to do it all along. Do things to make you recognize her. Say thing that make you SEE her in the manner she ALWAYS sees you. I dare say she is NOT over you, dear friend, and is pretending to be in a better place. Because, dear friend, that is all she CAN do. She has entrapped herself by the fire of her secret prayer to be with you. Beside you. Holding your hand. Dancing with you. Singing your love song. Guiding your way.

She has said "I am okay," and she doesn't want to take it back, because self-preservation will not allow her. And people will mock her if they knew she was still dreaming about you and watching you from afar when she had the chance to be with you and look into your eyes.

Let her be. If she's brave enough, she will come around. If she doesn't, then it's her lifetime loss that she never asked you.

Note: So, dear friend (and all those other people who can relate hehe), gets mo? Don't fret. She will still come back to you. Give it time. It ALWAYS comes back to you.

"Why did I ever let you go
Is it too late to let you know
that I try to run from your side
but each place I hide
Only reminds me of you."

Manila Misadventures

So there I was, back in Manila, and whoa, did the days bring it on.
As I said in a previous entry, I was working for a whole week. But, don’t none of you worry, I still got to get some down-and-dirty fun. Haha. The pollution, the dead skin cells, the dirty drivers, I mean.

ON GAS AND CABS
Everywhere I went, I took cabs, except for two times -- once, when I braved the trusty old bus, and the other time, when my sister and I went over to her pad via the swanky old jeepney. And, as luck would have it, I came home right after a series of taxi hold-ups where the accomplice would jump out of the trunk into the backseat and rob you at knife/gunpoint. But, as you also know, it’s never easy to get a cab going to Makati, so I couldn’t really be choosy. My strategy – keep the cab driver talking, and if he sounds suspicious, ask to be dropped off ASAP. Maybe the gods were on my side (or maybe I looked to normal to be rich enough to rob) so I always got to my destinations safely. Amidst traffic, taxi drivers and I mostly talked about the gas price increase. Ha Ha Ha. Apparently, it has gone up seven times since the election was over. Darnnit! Talk about politics and bad government. Grrr. So, as you can guess, I always gave them 20-30 pesos extra. Imagine, base fare was still P25 (the same as when I left) while 1 liter of gas went up to P27. Ridiculous! Besides, the extra was my thanks and sigh of relief that I got to my destination safe and sound. Haha.

MISADVENTURE #1
I was meeting a girlfriend at 10pm Monday night, after work. I got off work at exactly 945 pm. And figured, well hey, no traffic, I’ll be there in 15 minutes. She said she was at the new Ortigas Metro Walk (? I’m not even sure this was the actual name of the new ‘hot place in town’..). I didn’t know where that was, and she said, it’s just on Meralco Ave., and for me to ‘ask the cab driver to take a right on Meralco, coming from Shaw Blvd.’ I told the driver, and we were on our way, from Makati. On the way, I was looking for the hand lotion-slash-sanitizer in my itty-bitty-bag. Suddenly, I felt we were going uphill. Uphill on Meralco Ave? What?! I looked up and we were ramping up some flyover. I sat up straight, and asked the cab driver, ’Manong, manong, nasa papuntang Cainta na po ba tayo?’ The cab driver looked at me through the rearview mirror like I was wacko, then said, ‘Dun mo ba gusto dumaan?’. I looked quickly back at the flyover, at which time we were already on the highest point, going down, and I could see the towering Merlaco building at the end of the street. ‘Ay, sorry po, manong,’ I quickly said and laughed. I explained I had been gone around 6 months, and that the flyover wasn’t there when I left. So, yes, there is a new flyover in --- of all places --- Meralco Ave.

MISADVENTURE #2
Went to the bank to deposit my hard-earned cashish one early morning on my first week. And when I say early, it was 10 am (hey, I wasn’t expected in the office til after lunch :P ). Anyway, this was also when I took the bus, only because my dad dropped me off right on EDSA where it was easier to get a bus than a cab. So I bussed along and got to Makati. Whew, dead skin cells (eeww) shrugged away. But before this, I had pleaded with my dad to hitch me a ride to EDSA from the village (less walking for me haha), and he said yes only because I looked cute (okay, this part is not true). Anyway, he was rushing to get to a meeting in Ortigas, but I needed to pee, and so I rushed to the bathroom, sat my ass down, peed, and rushed back very quickly down the stairs into the car. So anyway, jump forward to the bank where I deposited my chi-ching cashish. Take note that at this time, I was still wearing my shades because of the infection (see NY in Shades post if you need elaboration), and so as I finished my transaction, I stood up, put my shades back on (I felt it was very impolite to talk to the bank person with my shades on…baka feeling nya masyado akong feeling hahaha), and left. As I walked out the door, manong guard was smiling at me. Polite. As I walked down Paseo, I noticed people were still looking at me. Bawal na ba magshades ngayon? Even girls were staring at me. Oh no! It could only have been one thing. I slowly ‘pa-simple style’ felt my lower belly for the zipper, and my ears started getting red from the dismay. My friggin’ fly was open! I quickly zipped it up and acted as if nothing was amiss. And then I descended the Paseo underpass and started chuckling to myself. I was on my way to Glorietta. Thank God I found out before I got there! It would have been at least one very slow kilometer of walking…Hahahaha. If you were a girl and a guy walking by has his fly open, would you tell them? How did she see it? Was she checking out the bulge in my pants? I can hear guys’ voices in their heads right now. Hahaha.

MISADVENTURE(?) #3
Watering Hole is a nice bar to go to when I just wanna go out and drink and have small-time fun with a few close friends. So on Tuesday of my second week, a coworker-close friend (let’s call him E) and I met to shop at Greenhills (yes he skipped work. And yes, it’s a he. A very VERY metrosexual friend hahaha) and decided, while having dinner, to head to watering Hole for a nightcap, and possibly, some cute eye-candy (eye-candy lang, sus hehe). We got there, but then I realized my mistake. Because this was unplanned, I was wearing my todo-all-out-sopping-to-the-max-garb --- a blue jersey top, gray casual jogging pants, and blue sneakers. And the clincher --- a blue umbrella (yes, it was drizzling that day when we headed out). E was laughing at our attire. He was very formal (office attire ‘cause he came from an interview in the morning, before meeting up with me), and I was waaaaaaay too casual, almost pampalengke style. Add to that that I was lugging along 2 shopping bags AND an umbrella. Dyahe. Jologs sobra, he said. I laughed right along with him, but then thought, at least we were comfortable with what we were wearing. Mentos moment, odiva!
But no! The gods did not seem to agree with me that night, because as soon as I went to the bathroom to freshen up, I saw Dolly Ann Carvajal, a filipino semi(?)celeb (daughter of Inday Badiday, you fools wahahaha), powdering up. And then I noticed the cameramen outside. Oh no! It was her birthday bash. At Watering Hole. Bad timinig! Then came the guests in full gimik garb. A lot of starlets we didn’t know, but then Nyoy Violante came, and then Niña (oh I just love her voice ha!), then True Faith, and Ogie Alcasid, and Cesar Montano, Sunshine Cruz, Ronnie Raymundo, and Megan Aguilar. Yikes. By this time, I had sent my sister SMS messages pleading for her to come over and bring me some decent gimik clothes. And she did. And I changed. And the whole world was right again. But for a few minutes, and maybe a few secs of airtime, you can see me looking like a labandera, shunning the light. Yes, that was me, at the corner table beside the stairs, with 2 women, and a guy, trying to shun out the light, and cover our faces in embarrassment. Mooohahahaha.

Okay, enough misadventures for one day. Coming up (when I find the time and inspiration again) I will tell you some other stories/adventures…and maybe share some pics too. Adios Amigos!

Thick-ankled, thick-skinned

They lay in bed, wasted with fluids and the remains of smoldering passion. And she brought it up. Once again. That name that made him cringe every time as he knew it was her jealousy that drove her. And she knew it was his undeniable adolescent infatuation for the other woman.
'You should seriously, seriously come to terms with whatever you're feeling for her,' she stated matter-of-factly.
'If I've told you once, I'll tell you again, she is nothing more than another good ol' friend.'
'Uh-huh.'
'Yep. Besides, it's you I want,' he said, leaning over and giving her a long, full kiss.
'Naughty, naughty boy...I know that, silly. But I mean, you guys gotta talk and resolve all that bottled up chemistry you talked to me about when you two were very close. She might mistake it for something else, ya know.'
'Nah. She's nothing more than a friend I tell you. Besides, the chemistry was more on her part. That's what she said when she called me, remember? I can't even imagine running my hands through her legs like this.' He ran his fingers down the length of her legs, and up again, teasing her, and kissing her neck.
She laughed, asking 'and why is that?', knowing very well what his answer would be.
'Thick ankles,' he murmured, burying his face in her torso.
'Stop it, you're tickling me,' she gurgled, adding 'You are a very mean man, you know.'
'I do,' he said, hiding them both under the blanket,'and isn't that why you want me too?'
They laughed and the second round was on.
***
She finished her cup of coffee, snapped out of her reverie, and turned around. She had watched them long enough. Their body movements suggested they had been intimate. The girl with thick ankles, and the boy with thick skin.
'Let's go, love.' She turned back to her companion. They instinctively held hands and walked toward the moviehouse from where they came.

This was her real chance for a man. This was her destiny, saying hello to the real drama of love.

This was the boy's real chance at puberty. This was his destiny, saying goodbye to the real drama of love.

Touché.

MY QUARTER-CENTURY LIFE

Most people have blogged about it. But this is my version. My thoughts. My drama on the matter.

Less than three months before I end the year-long celebration of my quarter century, and what do I have to show for it?

I have peace of mind, strength, determination, an acclimatized temperament, not to mention less baby fat, and more real fat.

But.

I digress.

I’m 25, and I’ve gone through a whole lot of things that most quarter-century old people go through. And then some. On second thought, make that ‘a lot more’. I’ve had dramatic fights with my mom, unbelievable openness with my dad, “mommy training” with my sisters, roller-coastering social life learning, and amazing “Young Love, Sweet Love”-cun-“Maalaala Mo Kaya” experiences with love.

And here, on this road today, I am ready. Ready to bid farewell to all the excess baggage brought on by the over-exuberance of youth. Ready to let go of all the misguided dreams brought on by commercialism and unadulterated media. Ready to let go of the burden and pressure that I’ve put on myself to make my life seem as normal as the norm.

Finding out that the norm is something that we all strive to be. That the norm is not as normal as it seems. And that the norm, in fact, changes (from year to year, or from day to day). Normal is not what I want to be, I have found out. I am bitchy, cute, funny, corny, baduy, independent, liberal, adventurous, moody, depressing, pessimistic, optimistic, altruistic, self-absorbed, passive-aggressive, feisty, articulate, curious, and observant, all at once or in differing degrees depending on where I am, who I’m with, and what I’m surrounded with. I am angel. I am devil. I am love, hate, sin, forgiveness, life, death, honesty, and lies all rolled into one.

‘Or so I thought’ is now something I find myself muttering under my breath, whenever I think things through. And ‘Damn all misconceptions and prejudices’ is my own personal version of the ‘Que Sera Sera’ attitude. I am less worried about what others will think of me and more worried about what any action will do for my own personal growth. In a way, it seems I’ve been more selfish. But, really, it means I'm being more at tune with who I am versus who people want me to be.

I have realized that while not everything I REALLY need to know I learned in kindergarten, most of it is easily available via internet. Haha.

Off to the second quarter, I'm more relaxed, and more at tune with what I can and cannot do. I stop doing things that are stupid mistakes, and I start capitalizing on my skills and assets. The first quarter (I'm paralleling to basketball here) is always a testing stage. Trying to gauge how best to attack the game. The opponent is just the obstacle, the basket shots being my goals. The opponents can try to let me foul up, but I can try harder and get away from them if I use good strategy. By the second quarter (of my life...stay with me now), I know what kinda works, and I know what doesn't. I know which opponents I should just stay away from at all costs, I know which teammates know and support my strategy the best, and I know which coaches to listen to. I am in the zone. I fight for the ball, run to my court, zigzag by the field-day defense, and score my goal. And when I am in the zone, believe you me, nothing and no one can stop me (in life that is, not in basketball....which I don't really know how to play hahaha).

So here I am, less than three months before leaving the year-long celebration, and I am pausing to recount.
The good days.
The bad days.
And the ME.

And on this poignant note, I would like to holler at all those people who think I am bad-things-that-cannot-be-named-here.

I probably am.

So live with it.

Zhinesade's Sooooo Real (part 1)

I am here! Safe and sound, much to the chagrin of some quarters, maybe? Hahaha. Anyway, It’s Wednesday night here now, and I am working. Yes, you heard me right. I’m in Manila for 2 weeks, but I get to work for 1 whole week. Whoopi-dee-doo-dah!

Duh.

Anywho, on Sunday, I treated my family to lunch at SAISAKI, buffet-style (yummeh), and finished us all off with Starbucks afterwards. Rushed home in time to meet a long-time pal mayangmameng (check out her blog here) and sped off to Pasay to get a glimpse of my new god-daughter and go chika with our other long-time friend Jepay. Gillian Alexis is sooooooo cute. We stayed there til 930 chatting, munching, cooing over yanyan (or at least that’s what I want her nickname to be hahaha) and looking at her hubby’s pet snakes alternately. Eeeewww (to the snake, not the baby).

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were for hanging out at home from 7 am til 10, and then doing some cash damage from 10-12, and meeting people who would be treating me out for lunch at exactly 12 pm. Yum! I’ve had Tonkatsu, Jollibee Chickenjoy, and Honey Chicken for lunch (yes, in that order). Then I was off to work from 1-10pm. After work on Monday, I headed over to the new commercial complex at Meralco Ave (pity me, I forgot what it’s called now) and met up with a girlfriend and found out that she’s now in the process of opening a new bar. Yeahooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!! You go girl! I was so impressed and amazed. We hung out and did our girl thang til around 1 and headed our separate ways. Don’t worry though, we made two other appointments to go out and paint the town red!!!!! (Maaaaaaaaaammmmmmmm Chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, sama kaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!) Whappak! Hahaha.

I also managed to do other things in the middle of my hectic first week of ‘vacationing’ like treat myself to Starbucks, deposit my savings, fix stuff at home, talk to relatives, set appointments with friends, pay my insurance, give away ‘pasalubongs’, ask about my SSS and driver’s license questions, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

I’m sorry I’m boring you with the details. Most of them were really more fun than I . I had soooo many bloopers. I’m just a bit busy this week. I’ll get into the blooper stories next week. When the real vacation begins.

Ciao for now. And don’t miss me too much ;D (hahaha, as if anyone really reads this shiznit!)

Manila, Manila

To those who don't already know, I'll be back in Manila for a much-anticipated 2-week groovefest...err flyback tomorrow. 18 hours of flight, 1 hour of getting through the airport muck, 1 hour kissing and hugging and handing out presents at home, and then I'm off to my first night-out haha. Well, that is, if plans with Mayangmameng and Tasha-kun push through. With all the catching up on chikas, it should be fun.

I'll try to update you, dear blogerati, on Monday, or as soon as I get connection to make it seem as though I never left here. (for some, maybe it's wiser to just think that. :D)

Manila, here I come!

Aside: And don't worry, agent (ahem, woofers), I'll be back before you know it!

Kisses all 'round! (pweh pweh nyahahaha)

Meow.

Intoxication: Tequila, Red Horse, and Queer

Oh God, what had she done? She remembered she made a decision to be a very liberal woman, trying out men like they were different flavors of ice cream. But those were men. Men.

She turned sideways, saw his delicous body succumb to sleep, and wondered what he was thinking when he drove into the motel.

They met up at a bar earlier tonight. The same bar where they first met through common friends. Her closest girlfriends. She remembered how intoxicated she was then. How flirty she and her friends looked as they danced by their table, like there was no tomorrow, and like they were the only goddesses of this world. They really didn’t need to try hard, she and her friends. They were eye-candy enough. But there was another girl with a cute guy. And she and her friends were whispering about how the guy lost out with the girl who had lumpy legs. They were convinced they had to save the guy. Even just for tonight. So they danced a whirl of flirtation. And bid Hera to understand their mission.

Then another, smaller, normal-looking guy in a black shirt came up to the guy and the girl. And kissed the guy. She and her friends were shocked. Whispers around. The girl suddenly had to go. The two guys were left, and they were whispering among themselves. The guy in black then turned and both her girlfriends laughed. He was their wedding gown designer. They waved and he came over. He was the coolest and cutest (well, ‘pwede na’) all-the-way-out queer Tiana had ever met, and she was mesmerized. Yes, he spoke barok english, but who cared? Tiana was having fun. This queer knew how to dance. And had the packs to prove…Oh, Queer as Folk, at last you are true.

She was drunk. The two guys joined their table and ordered a round of tequila. And another one. And then Red Horse. Whoa, Red Horse, she initially thought. But she marveled at how it didn’t taste so bad once you were tipsy. They all danced the lovefest in the middle of the floor. One moment, she was facing her friends, the next, she was facing the cute guy. The cute guy turned out to be a wee bit younger than her though. Not good for relationships, but very possibly good in bed. She made a mental note as she gave him her number, and then she was pulled the other way, and was suddenly sandwiched in a bump and grind between Mr. Cute and Mr. Queer. God, they felt good. Oh man, she was intoxicated. He was gay, for God’s sake. She shook her head, and looked directly in Mr. Queer’s eyes.

‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were all man.’

‘Try me,’ was his comeback, with a naughty gleam in his eyes. Or maybe that was just alcohol that made her think that.

She got home safe and sound that night, dignity still intact, but hot, heavy bubbles-in-mind as she dove into bed and slumbered.

She was not as lucky now. Or was she?

She and her girlfriends were supposed to meet tonight, exactly a week after that surreal experience, with the two cute guys again. But for some weird galactic reason, both girlfriends cancelled at the last minute, and so did Mr. Cute. She was in the mood to drink, though. A symbol of the past had shown itself today, and all she wanted was alcohol in her body to drown out her mind. And so she met him. The next thing she knew, it was approaching midnight, Mr. Queer had suggested going someplace quieter to talk, and they were getting into a motel.

Oh God, that happened so fast. But wasn’t he gay? The voice? The gesticulations? The pictures in his phone? But tonight, under the sheets, no words, no gesticulations, no faces. Just bodies intertwined and united in carnal desire. Yes, he was all man. He didn’t get as hard as she would’ve wanted (she supposed it was because he didn’t use it as often as normal men did) but the motion of the ocean was magnificent.

Her cigarette finished, she rang the front desk for a cab, and five minutes later, was safe and unsound in her shower, eyes closed, remembering the salts of the night.

Body against body, Hera's smile silently bid her welcome as she turned the lights off and slid into bed, naked.

In Memoriam

You asked me to come over
to talk
but you had stuff to do

so I slept
in the bed
where we used to
play
and dance
and sing songs of ecstasy
and count the moments
we made the bedsprings
break

I slumbered
you touched
I responded
we tumbled
into abyss
to catch up on months
wasted

We rocked

You knew the rhythm
I knew the words
it was tumultuous melody
slowly
then steadily
got deep
fierce
dark
hungry

Right there
Oh
Come with me
Now

Silence

You held me
we slept

In the morning
there was no talk
you wanted to
I said no
I wanted to single out the moment
not the words
not the thoughts
for old times’ sake

We knew
in memoriam
I was going to be
just another
whore
you screwed
for the free thrill.

So you got off the bus
and I headed home
with the thought that
I slept
in the bed
where we used to
play
and dance
and sing songs of ecstasy
and Count the moments
we made the bedsprings
break.

Aside: Naughty, ain't it? I told you I was putting out all the stops haha. Oh sweet freedom. Got my inspiration from Tasha here (Thanks Tasha! I'm working on a gay guy post too now, all because of ya). ;D

New York in Shades

Just as a prelude, yes, you are allowed to laugh at me.

Some coworkers and I decided to go up to NY for the Labor Day long weekend. We planned it a week in advance and booked the bus tickets. It was a long stretch for me because of my fear of dead skin cells on such a long trip (see here if you haven't read it yet). I still said yes and hoped for a fabulous road trip (Who was I kidding? haha. It was a public bus).

BUT. On Sunday night before the trip, one of those freakish things happened. I scratched the inside of the lower lid of my right eye with my nail. Yes, I had grown my nails, and while dreaming in fairytale land, I did the unthinkable. Which made me wake up and cower in pain. But, I thought it was okay since I went to the bathroom and checked and no visible scarring appeared.

Stupid me.

Thursday morning came and my right lower lid was swelling. Made an appointment to see the doctor, and he gave me antibiotics. He said it should be better by Sat night. Good, I thought to myself, 'Just in time to go out clubbing'.

Engk!

Friday, the swelling was worse, and a bulge appeared on the lower lid. I'll spare you the details. However, I will say this, I had to wear shades to the office on both Thursday and Friday. And when we boarded the bus, yes, I still had the shades on. Even when we arrived in Chinatown in NY at around midnight, I still donned them.

Laughable.

Saturday, the swelling got worse, so I stayed at my friend's pad while everyone else went touring. Happy happy joy joy. Not.

At least I got to watch Cinema Paradiso(classic!) and Secretary(naughty!). And then, Sunday. And I just HAD to do some fall/winter shopping. And so I braved the world with my shades. And you think shades don't make a difference. They do. Hahaha. It made me look at the shoes/clothes more carefully, because I wanted to be sure my half-opened right eye saw everything there was to see (Aside: So, do Chinese people have the same visibility range as big-eyed people? Apparently so.), stitches, snags, and all.

By Monday morning, the swelling had gone down a bit. but was still obviously there. My on-going fight with morning-glory (haha, wag nang pa-echos, MUTA yan :P) was still on, as my right eye was watering throughout the nights (due to the infection? I can only assume). But the day wore on, and my sunglasses were my allies (was? or where? this always troubles me in sentence use).

Anyway, so I was able to endure the long weekend, was back home by 9pm Monday night, shades and all.

Today, am back at work, with my trustworthy shades. New York was fabulous -- Central Park, Serendipity, Gray's Papaya, etc. And my shades are fine, thank you for asking :D

Aside: If you're ever in NY, and are the kind of shopper that looks at price versus brand name, I recommend CONWAY! Woohoo. However, make sure that you know your size before you start a-shopping, as they have no fitting rooms. Got a pair of work shoes there for 3.99. My shades and I both agree that it's awesome (even the lovey agreed)! Also, if you're ever at Gray's Papaya (72nd St), they have the best franks ever, and the Pinoy cashier/waiter is the nicest ever! He gave us pineapple juice with the franks, even though the promo clearly stated he couldn't! Aww, pinoys rule!

Death to Romance

Aside: This is a long one. Forgive my ramblings.

The first pocketbook that I read was one of those Mills and Boons ones. My mom had a collection of them that she kept on hanging shelves in the corridor. Hanging shelves that were around 8 feet high, while I was a measly 10-year old. And as kids do, I did. Planned the whole shenanigan in a week or so, and executed with perfection. Woohoo. I was officially an unofficial adult. I would lock myself in my room and read. but because the print was very small, I think it took me almost a month to finish it. Very far from the 'Run, Jane, run...See Jane run' books I was used to reading at the time ('twas the beginning of third grade, and like most kids, I didn’t like reading very much).

The point is, I read the Mills and Boons book. And the story was very cheesy (as can be expected from these ‘trashy’ novels, as I was to learn later), Count Mr. Guy and Guest visitor Ms. Girl are a mismatch at first, but they eventually hook up, and after attitude and circumstantial problems, they eventually live happily ever after. And so I guess that’s how I perceived love would be when it came to me.

And I guess that’s why I always tried my best to work out problems with past boyfriends, and never just gave up at the sight of many obstacles. Besides, it was a challenge to find ‘Mr. Prince Charming.’ And so I tried.

But people don’t have the same ideas. They don’t have the same backgrounds. And as much as I would like to get through problems by win-win or compromises, not all boyfriends seemed to see it the same way.

I guess you could say it was a matter of perspective. Or because their first romance novel was not the same as mine. Or was not read at the same life-phase as I did mine.
But life’s more challenging like that, I think back now. The aged twentysomethings single women out there would not be what they are now if it wasn’t for those books, or for those realities of exes.

I remember in college, a friend had been dating another friend. Girl, me and a couple of others went to McDonalds for breakfast and started talking about love lives. Girl thought that she and her boyfriend were a perfect fit. She said they had arguments, like most other couples, but that she thought he was The One. Now, at the time, I didn’t know much, but my question was, ‘How do you know he’s the one when he’s all you’ve ever had?’

I know, I know. You and her think the same thing. Fate. Destiny.

But that theory can only get you so far, see. You meet, and looks like each has everything they want in the other. But what if you wake up one day and there are flaws and peeves and imbalance in the relationship? Do you just say ‘Well, hey, he’s my destiny and we will work this out'? What if he cheats? He lies? He stunts your growth? Worse, what if he beats you physically or emotionally?

Whereas, tabula rasa. Having no expectations outside of a culture. You have no standards, no boundaries, nothing societal that binds you together, and so you are free to either help each other grow or leave each other. But, then again, you’re also free to just think of yourself and feed from the other person’s energy. Suck them dry and get your fill, hoping it’s as symbiotic as you wish it to be.

Pragmatism, you say? Denying human nature, I say.

Saying ‘Oh, he’s my prince charming’ isn’t going to help you get through everything. But the other side of the coin, ‘Oh, looks like this is beneficial to ME’ thinking isn’t going to work either. Because it’s not just you involved. There’s the person you supposedly love. The prince charming. (or princess, as the case may be).

Have a little respect for him. For her. If you’re getting into a relationship, know that partners have feelings and thoughts too. And what you think funny, s/he might think embarrassing. What you might think practical, s/he might think hurtful. And what you think romantic, s/he might think a waste of assets. Chickenjoy sa yo, KFC sa kanya. Papa ketchup sa yo, Mang Tomas sa kanya.

And so the romantic novel dies here. Love is love. But a relationship is more than a romantic novel with a happy ending. It’s a never-ending story.

Cue, Jonathan Brandis.

PS. And the girl, she's with another guy now.

Change in my tone

There have been so many things that I've wanted to write about. After all, that's what blogs are for, right?

Right.

But I didn't write them.

Why?

Because they were too personal, or too biased, or too emotional. And these things that we normally hide from ourselves, some of these things I have tuned in to. And I have accepted as part of me. Part of who I am. But I guess I needed time to build up confidence in myself enough to know that people who may or may not know me will judge what kind of person I am by what I write. And that should be okay with me. This is a public blog, anyway. And so, I herald today as the start of my not-so-politically-correct and not-so-wholesome blogself.

I caution you, before moving forward from this date (090304), brace yourselves. And don't hate the player. Hate the game that made you believe that anyone's life could be just full of roses. I know mine isn't. And I'm ready to get into the ring and box the hell out of my demons.

Let the cynicism and indulgence begin.

That old lady, dead at age 63

Today she’s celebrating her thirty-fifth birthday. And on all her birthdays, she had always (always) remembered him. He was the first man she ever loved. It’s been years now, but she hasn’t forgotten him. She knows there’s no turning back time, no going back to the way it was. But she always reminisced about those days.

At age eighteen, he wooed her in the most romantic way. Made friends with her right before her birthday. Told her he had fallen for her on Christmas day. Got his first kiss from her on his birthday in April. Summer lovin’ happened so fast.

She fell in love with him. In her own youthful way, she really did.

But he was ready and she was not. Mona Lisa smiled and they broke up.

She was in college and he was working. She lost contact. Burned the bridge. He tried to build a walkway to get to her. She resisted, thinking his presence a nuisance of the memory that was them. And she wanted to experience other things. She went on with her life. Men and boys alike, she embraced. Some loving caresses, others carnal affairs, and others still were only to stroke her ego avid ego. Paradise.

One day, age twenty-two, she grew up. But he was gone. Moved on to another plane altogether. She never saw him again.

She met a man at twenty-four and married him two years later. It wasn’t as romantic as she had imagined it would be when she was eighteen. But she was more cynical now, had more baggage, had less dreams. And she had a deadline to catch. And so she married. Had three kids by age thirty and became a full-time mom, never mind the fact that she worked hard to excel in college and create a career. Her career now was to be a mother. And so a mother she became.

Today, at age 55, she reminisces. Thirty years ago, she made a choice. And she never looked back. Or so she wants herself to believe. When she washed the dishes, or when she tucked her kids to bed, or saw them take their first bike ride, or attended their graduation, she always thought about him. How they would talk about this and think it momentous. Instead, she was with her husband. Quiet appreciation.Thirty years ago, she made a choice. So many other roads were taken since that day. And here she is today.

He was the first man she ever loved, and no matter how she tried, he was still going to be the man in her secret, imagined life. The man she would always love. But this secret was hers. She was taking this to her grave. She made that choice thirty years ago, and no one could take that sweet burden away from her.

Today she takes her last breath. She knows it and is relieved. Her life-long wait was over. There would be no tears in heaven because he would be there. She had waited patiently. A love only to be held in death. Rebirth to forever with him.

She smiled as she closed her eyes. She was on her way.

"There was always a smile hidden in her eyes. She had an ethereal happiness about her. Something would go wrong, you looked at her, and she always had a smile for you. It was like she knew a secret to life that none of us were privy to. She was the epitome of life. Even during her last days, it seemed like she never felt the pain. She was almost radiating life then. And now she is spreading her happiness in heaven. Where she truly belongs. And we will hold her in our hearts forever."

"Linda, Loving Wife and Mother"