realizations over chicken skin

life, these past few days, seem to be pushing me to be jaded again. two friends, two different stories, both about the same topic, love... and how they lost in the game. both took the gamble. both knew the odds were slightly not in their favor. both hoped for the best, and now... well, both, i hope, are trying their best to move on.

i had almost forgotten how frustrating it feels to be in the same situation. forgive the analogy but, like you had invested in a business that went belly up, is what it feels like. it's a mixture of agitation, self-loathing, self-doubt, and well, everything else nasty. of course for the time being, all this negative-emo-junk is still yet directed to the self. it's the first casualty unfortunately in this very tricky game. once that has been totally obliterated by the merciless auto-cannibalism you inflict, and while your conscience recuperates from the onslaught, whatever remnants still left of this burden is then projected to the "other" party. it sits in the pits of ur stomach, then suddenly surges out like a pyroclastic explosion. yes... bitterness sets in. the residue of self-spite. bile spitting, projectile sarcasm and what-nots, all focused on that one person who (REALLY) was the cause of all this misfortune... that person who tore your heart out and gave it to his ratty-looking chihuahua to eat for breakfast.

oh the rage. oh the intense hatred! there's a malevolent PASSION suddenly to inflict load mounts of indescribable pain! revenge is not really what it is... rather, JUSTICE. there has been an imbalance set in the universe and YOU, my pained, dumped friend, have been divinely tasked to set back the cosmic equilibrium!!!!!

you then simmer in the spite, melting every tough joint and sinew in the slow, long boil. your countenance changes. your energy shifts, and not too long, you find yourself in a downward spiral into a dark and bottomless pit. by this time, the person who hurt you initially would have already found someone else. the person the universe had meant for you had already come and gone. the moments made to complete you had already passed. the sweet climax of a fulfilling and wonderful life had already dissipated... all because you chose to hold on to something small, and truly so, rather insignificant.

maybe because it makes you feel alive.

maybe because pain and misery make you feel relevant.

maybe because, even if it hurts, this feeling is still of that person who could not love you back, and you cannot bare to let that person go.

maybe because you fool yourself to think, there's no more beyond this point.

maybe because, you're really narrow-sighted.

maybe because you really like small and insignificant things...

lessons in pain

it was her fragility that endeared me to her. her inherent clumsiness, coupled with a delicate frame made her almost like a walking accident-waiting-to-happen. she was adorably cute, she was graciously kind, she was utterly sweet. all those, and maybe more, were the things i saw, i felt, i loved. i tried to be nice to her, tried to care for her, but in the end, despite my earnest and sincere efforts, her heart was for another, and because of it, i experienced my first heartbreak.

shit.

it hurt like hell, to be quite honest. i felt rejected. i felt worthless and unworthy. it didn't really matter if i knew i did the right thing, that i respected her space, that i made myself available for her only as a friend, since that was all she wanted from me. when you're in pain, none of that really means anything. all you feel is the rawness of the hurt, and the gasping of a heart suffocating of life-breath. i could not really find any comfort from anyone, since, i guess heartaches, though we all experience it, it uniquely subjective. your situation is custom-made to hurt just for you. people tried though, but it did nothing to salve me. all i could do was sit, quietly, and live through the pain, hoping in the end i would heal, and that good will come out of this.

good, eventually did.

in physiology, they taught us the immense value of pain, how it is essential to our survival. pain is our body's way of telling us that something is wrong. it teaches us to seek help and also teaches us what to avoid in the future. i guess this pertains as well to other types of pain. my first heartache was years ago, and i have learned a lot since then. i have learned to look before i leap. i have learned that emotions are not everything. i have learned that i can love without expecting reciprocation and be ok. i have learned to discern between love and lust. i have learned to enjoy the company of someone, without overstepping boundaries. i have learned to have boundaries. i have learned to increase my capacity. i have learned to be at peace in pain.

i have had many heartaches still after that first one, and though each still offer me great discomfort, i can say with each, i come out better. with each lesson learned, i guess, is a forward step closer to a fully-transformed me. older, wiser, more centered, a step closer to the ideal me, made perfect to meet my match.... God willing, that is :)

papa paul

i was already fast asleep when my mobile suddenly rang. in a panic, i quickly picked it up and went out the room since kuya was sleeping as well. i had retired from the day early since i had a race the following day. on the other side of the line, a seeming familiar voice proceeded out in greetings and the usual "kamustas". i had not yet recognized who i was talking too, hoping that my frazzled brain would eventually start working before the guy realized i was just being polite by responding... however, the stupid tone in my answers gave me away. "di mo ako kilala no?" "hehehehehe, no. sorry." "si paul to, engot!"

paul! i forgot he was back in town for a break. paul was my room mate back when i worked in dubai. we shared a room for a good 2 months together, back when our company still housed us. when the lease to our apartment expired, he and my other office mates decided to find cheaper accommodations near work while my other (girl)friends and i decided to stay put. anyway... that's another story altogether.

i met up paul last night at QC as i had invited him out to dinner. he brought with him his new love, isa. well, not really so new since she was his first GF apparently, and they have been "dating" (online) and had been rekindling the old flame for the past four months.

seeing paul again, after more than 2 years since i left dubai definitely flooded me with memories. i'm actually quite embarrassed since during the entire time we were having dinner, i think i had completely neglected talking to isa since i was too occupied catching up with paul. can you really blame me though?

on and on, paul and i talked about all that has happened since i left; my company, dubai, the people i worked with, my bosses, the malls, EVERYTHING. i also got to talk about his life. just listening to him talk, seeing his face, and hearing his modulated voice again, i could not help but feel a tad bit emotional. hehehehehe. i neglect to mention that i had a mini-crush on him as well. he was a steady character during a tumultuous time in my life. i recall every time i had a bad day, just by talking to him, even if it didn't make things any better, made things, at least feel, well, normal. we all have bad days apparently.

my best memories of paul would always be by, or in, the swimming pool. he had a fractured hip from a biking accident, and when time would come when the old injury would bother him, he would occasionally go up and take a dip in the rooftop pool where the company used to house us, the waters gloriously heated by the desert to a comfortable temperature. under the arabian sky, mesmerized by the reflections and the dancing of light caused by the agitated waters, i would often find myself in deep introspection and would have lengthy conversations with paul, the topics of which were endless. those nights were like moments shared by old friends, by like kindred souls, and even in some times, by like that of father and son.

i love my papa paul. 

 

freshly squeezed

last time i wrote a post this early in the morning, while my brain is still free of clutter, was a very long time ago. can't really say there's a lot swishing about in the head though, enough to actually bring about a decent post. um...

well, i need a definite career path. that seems to be something. though working as an auditor for the family serves as a means to an end, i don't think i will end happy, or better yet, feeling fulfilled. money doesn't seem to be a good enough driving force for me since, well, i really suck at handling it. what i have found out though, i am creative and thirst for new experiences. i guess this would explain the random sketches in the middle of the day, as well as the obsession with running and the gradual experimentation to barefoot running. i once feared falling to the adage, jack of all trades; master of none, but yet, i seem to be fitting that mold perfectly. i know a lot apparently, enough to form an opinion about a gamut of things, however, what i know is still short to support a probably factual debate. i don't think i even have enough to win a game of trivial pursuit...

i think i am also taking a break from the relationships-game. it's getting too much in the way of normal life and really just wastes too much of my energy. with all the worrying, the thinking, the drama... really, i think i'd just channel that strength to something more constructive, maybe, like building a better spiritual life of improve on my running form and my overall fitness.

speaking of overall fitness, i think i should finally take this seriously.... getting abs. hahahahaha, i know i often avoid sounding shallow but since getting that washboard torso seems to be the HARDEST thing to do, and considering i have this hunger for punishment... i'm just thinking, why not? i have been working out for 8 years now and have on some occasions seen tell-tale signs of the coveted loaf peeking thru, but never really got serious in building on them. what for, i thought. but now... well, just because i'm getting bored with my regimen, i think i will try to aim for that magazine-cover worthy 6-pack. not that i have desires of having them advertised (just like how most men i meet do), but the sense of fulfillment is definitely something i am gunning for.

just bought the issue of men's health philippines with carl guevara on the cover. OMFG. i want him now. ahahahaha, his body on mine i mean, well, no, not THAT WAY. i mean, i want to get a body like that for myself... no, that didn't sound right either! ARRRGH, i want my body to be just like that, is what i want to say.


gaaaad.... i wouldn't mind getting a face like that as well (just look at that JAW *drool*) ... hahahahaha.

dee u h-yeng shy'u bo?

"h-yeng shy'u" pronounced in your most nasal of tones, is fookienese that loosely translates as "fondness". it can be used to connote a liking for people, to be more specific, a crush as in "u h-yeng shy'u", or "CRUSH KITA!! (very Krissy), or with regards to the context of this post, a level of interest, to one's work to be more exact. 

note: this is not a rant.

i was making my rather exciting breakfast this morning, a shake consisting of my whey protein, psyllium husk and flaxseed meal mix, a dash of cayenne pepper and maple syrup, when my mom in her batik daster sashayed towards my direction asking how i was. she looked at the time, 7:35am, and looked at me. i had just come home from gym. today was anaerobic training day which meant i was extra exhausted than usual. i was dripping in sweat and trying to stay relaxed as i readied myself for the rest of the day.

she offered the idea that i hurry up and get moving soon so as that i get to the office early. she said i rush often, this way, i had more time to dilly-dally. when she noticed my dismissal of her suggestion, mom said in chinese, "lola and i were praying for you, hoping that you would grow more fond of your work." i didn't really understand how this statement affected me, but it definitely hit something raw. i really don't know why, but every time family discusses work with me, i find myself all of a sudden on the defensive. it seems like every time they prod about my job, it feels like they are subtly questioning the quality of my work. of course, this is just my feeling. i'm sure they have no ill intent against me. it just however feels that way. 

as expected, i began my oration on how i do what is given to me, to the best of how i know. i site examples of my diligence and try my best to sound convincing that i do my fair share, even then some...

but basing on my reaction though... it's interesting to consider that maybe, why i feel so defensive all the time is because i really think i am inept at my job. i am too afraid to admit it. i am too ashamed to tell my family. i am too clueless what to do after. 

suddenly, escaping again feels so good.

of midnight strokes and divine love

i find myself waking up often now, in the middle of the night, almost like waking up from a bad dream, only without the usual panic. it feels like becoming instantly conscious, like being blessed with a stroke of lucidness, regardless of how deep my sleep was. in these moments, i chose to lay still, feel my body, my breathing, hoping the light rise and fall of my chest would lull me back again to slumber.

i try my best not to linger too long in these wakeful moments, especially when i wake up very late in the night and everything is quiet except for the steady drone of the a/c or the electric fan, should i chose to be economical that night. in the cold, still darkness of my room, i cannot help it but feel miserably alone. just the mere beginnings of the feeling will be enough to send my thoughts racing... more often that not, i would keep me awake hours later. i would fall to sleep only again after even my mind now has tired itself out. no more scenarios to ponder, no more questions to consider. i succumb to my present... and then, my alarm would ring. my day is now beginning.

there was a time i had resolved to myself that i will be ok living a life alone. it was a possibility i considered, since, i felt i should only be prepared. pessimistic as it may seem, i would rather be realistic and shield myself from the disappointment. however, as time went by and as i found myself fall for people and have people fall for me, as i felt what love can offer and what can do, i began to reconsider my resolution. i began to entertain the possibility that maybe, there is someone out there for me.

"LORD, give me a lover!" i read this often once as a tweet, a friend's call to the universe to conspire in his favor. though i may not be so overt in my now new-found wish, i do recall praying for it once. funny, in my prayer to a secretive God, i felt rather embarrassed, close to whispering in my silence communion with my Lord, inquiring if there will be  a special someone in my future. i asked, if it was in accordance to His will, that He could help me feel less lonely, if it were ok that i find someone to call my own. i chose to leave the specifics to Him. i thought to myself, who was i to impose what i think is best for me. that prayer was made years ago....

i find myself thinking sometimes now, maybe, i should give up. not because that i can't find someone. surely it's not that difficult to find people nowadays... but i am beginning to loose hope in finding that right someone, that person who i wished i can call my own. i think my Lord had led me to a few possibilities in my past, pointed me here, pointed me there, but like in a lot of things He does for me, He only accompanies me so far and then leaves me to decide on my own. like the one who prayed to Him years ago, the specifics of the relationship, He left them to me to decide, maybe hoping in His heart that as i explore these possibilities and exercise my heart, that i will understand His true intentions... that my life is never really about me. my life was all about Him all along.

will there be still someone for me? maybe. God only knows. it's not so important now, however. i love irregardless of.

it's all in the voice

i have noticed that whenever i used the second or the third person voice in writing my posts, i tend to sound more "emo". despite how much i have been trying not to sound so dramatic, or rather, TRAGIC (so say my beloved kuya) in my writing, i seem to keep falling back to my same old style. there is obviously comfort in being able to express one's self and yet, make it seem like you're talking about a totally different person. projecting, am i? i'm no shrink or literary genius, but for all i know, i could be building for myself an imaginary voodoo doll of my repressed, unexpressed, CONSTIPATED self and having him serve as my proxy in living life, well, just all the downsides of it, if i have to be more specific.

when writing in the first person however, like what i'm doing now, almost instantaneously, the tone becomes lighter, more candid and definitely un-emo! either the first-person-me is really jovial by nature, or like in some psychoanalytical mess, the first-person-me is just too much of a coward to face his (3rd person) demons and hide behind humor and plainness, only to address them once focus is shifted back to the imaginary third-person.

i think i learned writing like this back when i was in high school. i recall my english teacher teaching us how to properly construct introductions. always use the third person voice, was what she said. all this time when doing my theme papers, i have always used the first person, why shouldn't i? i was deriving from personal experiences and putting down my thoughts, i should own every word. however, this wasn't the case when doing formal papers apparently. i have forgotten the real reason why we use the third person, something about avoiding liability, that or it just sounds MORE SERIOUS if you phrase your words as "the proponents" or "the researchers" rather than "my friends and i".

why the sudden fuss over voices, you may ask. well, bespren from Turkey says that i am overly dramatic when i write. i really cannot deny. i am. i have been trying to change it, but as i said, i keep back sliding to the same, old, self-cannibalizing default. then, while sitting on the can this morning.... i realized THE pattern. the voice i used was the catalyst. hehehehehehe, i had an AHA! moment in the middle of the push.

i also realized something else.... may bago akong CRUSH. ahahahahaha! pero friendly crush lang to. shucks.... feeling high school!