i felt my foot stepping harder on the accelerator. my mind was racing. i just couldn't handle what i was hearing. impossible, i thought. it couldn't be. how could i? i'm, i'm... self effacing, i screamed in my head! but as my brother continued to run through his list, his observations carefully gathered over the many years, he slowly began to expose me. i felt myself squirm in my seat. i grew more and more uncomfortable but did nothing to stop kuya. i instead urged him to say more. blame it on my sadistic penchant for pain, i listened to his report. part of me agreed to all that he was saying, yet my agreement was mixed in with an almost violent internal reaction. in the end, i submitted myself to what was almost a solid arguement. kuya had just brought out to the surface that i actually am a narcissist.
just to prove how right he is, here i am, writing about it as well. ugh. how shameful. ugh, me commenting on it to get sympathy, EVEN MORE SHAMEFUL!!!!
in consolation however, kuya said, trying his best to pacify my now deflated demeanor, and probably to keep us from getting killed since my agitation was very obvious now in my driving, he said i was at least, a closeted narcissist.... the more subtle, more intelligent variety. UGH! i'm BACK in the closet, AGAIN????!!!!
poofing up my ego by convincing myself that i'm actually smarter and more conniving... HOW SO NARCISSISTIC. narcs have great potential to be manipulators you know. ugh....
it no longer has to be said how bothered i am about learning this about myself. don't get me wrong, i appreciate the honest observation for truly, i doubt i would have ever seen myself in such light but after what my kuya said, and after reading about narc's, and after realing he's right, it's disturbing me greatly. i literally felt as if the rug was pulled under my feet. it was just supposed to be a casual, benign conversation about ppl's roles in relationships, but no... i had my gun pointed back at my and my brother having me pull the trigger!
my head hurts just thinking about it. hahahahaha. it's funny in a VERY not so funny way. what to do? what to do? i have been called many things in my life but NEVER a narc, and of all things, THIS i what i am reacting the worst to!
ugh....
UGH!!!!!!!!
AAAAAAARRRRGH!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
no coincidences
here's a modern day parable:
someone asked an old wise man one day, why bother studying spiritual matters when he doesn't even feel like he's retaining anything? the old man said, let us consider a basket made of straw and i were to throw this basket into a well and use it to draw water, what do you think would happen? the other person pointed out that no water would be drawn for the water would just leak out of the basket. correct, said the wise man. but if i were to throw this basket into the well again, and again, and again, and again, what would be of the basket now? he then explains, we are like this basket of straw. we study, we pursue, and yet it seems all that we try to retain simply leaks out of us. but if we remain diligent in our pursuit, we will eventually have ourselves soaked fully, every fiber of our "basket" saturated and swollen. you may not realize it now, but in time, you will see that this is true.
it was a long drive that felt like a short one, and the conversation was rich between a believer and an atheist. the believer never felt eloquent for he always felt he was short in many things. the atheist, on the other hand, felt assured of his logic, its principles and its moral soundness. no debate ensued. no bashing nor disrespecting of beliefs, only an enlightening discourse between two people. a discourse that proved to the believer, that he may be short in some things, and yet, was rich in others; that proved to the believer that nothing, in God, is random nor coincidental, most especially between a believer and an atheist, in a long-short drive, deeply engaged in an enlightening fellowship.
someone asked an old wise man one day, why bother studying spiritual matters when he doesn't even feel like he's retaining anything? the old man said, let us consider a basket made of straw and i were to throw this basket into a well and use it to draw water, what do you think would happen? the other person pointed out that no water would be drawn for the water would just leak out of the basket. correct, said the wise man. but if i were to throw this basket into the well again, and again, and again, and again, what would be of the basket now? he then explains, we are like this basket of straw. we study, we pursue, and yet it seems all that we try to retain simply leaks out of us. but if we remain diligent in our pursuit, we will eventually have ourselves soaked fully, every fiber of our "basket" saturated and swollen. you may not realize it now, but in time, you will see that this is true.
it was a long drive that felt like a short one, and the conversation was rich between a believer and an atheist. the believer never felt eloquent for he always felt he was short in many things. the atheist, on the other hand, felt assured of his logic, its principles and its moral soundness. no debate ensued. no bashing nor disrespecting of beliefs, only an enlightening discourse between two people. a discourse that proved to the believer, that he may be short in some things, and yet, was rich in others; that proved to the believer that nothing, in God, is random nor coincidental, most especially between a believer and an atheist, in a long-short drive, deeply engaged in an enlightening fellowship.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
being slow: the pros and the cons
i was once accused in public, my accuser pointing his finger at me in front of my entire high school class, for an act that i did not do. someone wrote an anonymous letter to our class adviser, implicating numerous students who allegedly cheated in their exams. needless to say, our teacher was not happy and wanted to speak to the letter's author to verify its claims. of course, no one fessed up, that would have been social suicide, and in high school, that was as good as death itself.
my "perfect" class soon found itself sinking in a soup of paranoia. the ones whose names were in the letter remained stoic, defiant of the preposterous allegations while the rest began to talk amongst themselves, discussing their theories, gossiping. in the midst of all this, a rather vocal classmate of mine took it as his duty to rid our glorious class of this stain and regain our impeccable reputation again. he was to flush out the weasel by (and his ingenious plan was) asking everyone who HONESTLY, imploring on GOD as our witness, who did not write the letter, to stand up... hoping the guilty party will remain seated.
naturally, everyone stood. not believing how absolutely STUPID this idea was, i took my time to stand. my lag in participation however caught my over-zealous classmate's eye, and with his finger of condemnation, like a spanish inquisitor, he declares that I WAS TO BLAME. i was half way to standing. i recall looking at him, his smug look, his round head bobbing gently, obviously well pleased with himself. i could not make anything of the moment. i often visit this day in my head and question, what else could i have done differently?
my entire class' gaze was suddenly onto me. some threw looks of disgust, some of shock, some of curiosity. i was being judged. i had not spoken a word yet, probably caught in the same shock as some people who were surprised to learn that i was the culprit. a few seconds later, someone asked "why do you say it was jamie?" my classmate answered "because he was the last to get up." in the same speed as i was judged, i was also vindicated as my entire class eased up as it dawned on them too how STUPID we were all acting. in no time, we were back to our relaxed mood, as if nothing had happened... two people however remained alert, obviously changed by these events. one of them was me. i never trusted my classmates again. the other, my accuser. he was still adamant that it was me.
i recall going home that day and telling my brother what had happened. in almost at an instant, my dragon-brother was already plotting revenge. i however recall feeling utterly indifferent. i knew in my head, i really shouldnt be acting so coolly about this, yet however, could not muster the appropriate emotions to handle it. all i could do was acknowledge the fact that i was wronged, and that i felt hurt that i was wronged.
not too long ago, i was reminded of this incident in high school as i was wronged again.
i did not get angry. i did not react. all i did was sat there as my person got attacked, as i sat frozen in disbelief as to what i was hearing. i now recall the moment playing in this almost slow motion scene, as the words rolled off his tongue, as the words tumbled toward me. i recall the look of his face, the wincing of his eyes, the curl in his lips, the flaring of his gesturing fingers. i remember the strike of offense, the tone of condescension, the pinch of sorrow, followed by an overwhelming numbness.
i think i am blessed of being slow to anger. great peace is achieved because of this. i think my offenders are also being shown mercy for my God knows what i am truly capable of.
my "perfect" class soon found itself sinking in a soup of paranoia. the ones whose names were in the letter remained stoic, defiant of the preposterous allegations while the rest began to talk amongst themselves, discussing their theories, gossiping. in the midst of all this, a rather vocal classmate of mine took it as his duty to rid our glorious class of this stain and regain our impeccable reputation again. he was to flush out the weasel by (and his ingenious plan was) asking everyone who HONESTLY, imploring on GOD as our witness, who did not write the letter, to stand up... hoping the guilty party will remain seated.
naturally, everyone stood. not believing how absolutely STUPID this idea was, i took my time to stand. my lag in participation however caught my over-zealous classmate's eye, and with his finger of condemnation, like a spanish inquisitor, he declares that I WAS TO BLAME. i was half way to standing. i recall looking at him, his smug look, his round head bobbing gently, obviously well pleased with himself. i could not make anything of the moment. i often visit this day in my head and question, what else could i have done differently?
my entire class' gaze was suddenly onto me. some threw looks of disgust, some of shock, some of curiosity. i was being judged. i had not spoken a word yet, probably caught in the same shock as some people who were surprised to learn that i was the culprit. a few seconds later, someone asked "why do you say it was jamie?" my classmate answered "because he was the last to get up." in the same speed as i was judged, i was also vindicated as my entire class eased up as it dawned on them too how STUPID we were all acting. in no time, we were back to our relaxed mood, as if nothing had happened... two people however remained alert, obviously changed by these events. one of them was me. i never trusted my classmates again. the other, my accuser. he was still adamant that it was me.
i recall going home that day and telling my brother what had happened. in almost at an instant, my dragon-brother was already plotting revenge. i however recall feeling utterly indifferent. i knew in my head, i really shouldnt be acting so coolly about this, yet however, could not muster the appropriate emotions to handle it. all i could do was acknowledge the fact that i was wronged, and that i felt hurt that i was wronged.
not too long ago, i was reminded of this incident in high school as i was wronged again.
i did not get angry. i did not react. all i did was sat there as my person got attacked, as i sat frozen in disbelief as to what i was hearing. i now recall the moment playing in this almost slow motion scene, as the words rolled off his tongue, as the words tumbled toward me. i recall the look of his face, the wincing of his eyes, the curl in his lips, the flaring of his gesturing fingers. i remember the strike of offense, the tone of condescension, the pinch of sorrow, followed by an overwhelming numbness.
i think i am blessed of being slow to anger. great peace is achieved because of this. i think my offenders are also being shown mercy for my God knows what i am truly capable of.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Love: beginnings and the ends
and so, from the original four who sat around that table outside of UCC, that one humid sunday afternoon to discuss their singlehood, officially, we are now only three. the queen had finally found a rightful king. as i have been reiterating to him over and over again, i cannot be any happier, not because he is no longer single, but because HE, of all people, is no longer single. for someone who has had a hand in having people connect, make friends, even have these blossom into relationships; for someone who had played a role in dissecting and unraveling many an issues that have plagued us so; for someone who have had the patience to nurture those who have been burned by love and it's many tragedies... it's about time that karma found it's way back to him. love, i was told, is a beautiful thing and i am sure in the coming days, i will be told about them more, from the fresh eyes of someone who has had love long been waiting for him, who has now finally met love at last.
i am beside myself with giddiness, but more over, an overwhelmingly thankful and grateful heart.
i am beside myself with giddiness, but more over, an overwhelmingly thankful and grateful heart.
* * * * *
epiphany sundays. my Lord shed light unto me once again this morning, while in the middle of my church meeting. this time, He allowed me to mourn.
i tweeted this already, but since you don't have twitter, and maybe had already stopped reading me, i would think it would be ok to write it here. if you do get to read this however, it's ok. there is no shame in this feeling.
thank you for the memories. my God was merciful to me again. He allowed me a bit of the "normal" life that i wished i had, but, because of many things, cannot be allowed one. it was in a very strange series of events that had led me to you. it was in a very strange series of events that got us close as well. the feelings were real, however, the timing was imperfect. it however did not matter, to me at least. i gave you all that i had that i knew i could offer. enough, i hoped, so that i can be remembered, and in return, had enough of you to cherish in my heart as well.
you are wise, way beyond your years. i think that by far was what endeared you the most to me. despite your youth, you felt steady. i hope you never loose your center. i hope you will always stay anchored, just the way you have always been.
i have always wondered why i never feel sad whenever i leave or say goodbye. in my head, i know i should for certainly, farewells are never a happy thing. yet however, i cannot help but feel detached, more so, even cool about the whole matter.
months after that last night you sat in my car, as i lost myself in your gaze and you in mine... i finally feel the pinch of sadness now. my Lord had unlocked my heart. turned, maybe, with the realization that i have now a great friend who has found his love, while i now, am saying goodbye, finally, to one that could have been.... but could not be mine.
bon voyage. life is beautiful. life is great. i am smiling in the midst of my mourning for, like in many things, i am always grateful to have had the honor of being able to experience genuine emotion, and your affection and love were definitely unquestionable.
thank you for it all.
thank you for it all.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
my HOT muay thai trainer
what is with trainers nowadays...
so i have had this, well, FIXATION, with this one particular muay thai trainer. Marlon knows of him, heck we even compared why mine was SO much better than his. anyways, i went back to the boxing gym last night and having forgotten that i just got back that day after a LONG hiatus, my trainer had me do the most grueling sets that left me seeing STARS after we finished (look, there's vilma, nora, and... OMG, was that maricel?)
it didn't help that everyone seem to be afraid of the electric fan. the entire gym's temperature stayed at a toasty 32 degrees... even at 9 in the evening. no air, not much ventilation (because of electric fanophobia) and all that heat generated from all these boxers sweating had me leaking buckets, so much so that with every punch and kick i do, it sends a spray towards my poor trainer.
the punishment was intense.
but what was more intense was my trainer. lean build, small waist, muscular shoulders and torso and utterly flawless skin, glistening in what must be testosterone infused sweat. talk about a hannibal lecter moment... (my precious, AY, wrong character). unlike the aero instructor that i can only muster a brief smile at, i can converse casually with my muay thai trainer. so casually that last night, he was asked my opinion as to how to treat a pulled muscle, knowing that i was a PT. the muscle in question... his adductors... the inner thigh muscles..... where he pulled them..... near his groin. i was seated on the mat already, trying to catch my breath when he stood in front of me, then started POINTING and PRESSING against his, well, package, just to show me where EXACTLY he feels the pain... it took every bit of will power i still had left in me to stop me from staring. i instead focused on his shorts... they were of white polyester.... drenched in sweat.... clinging tightly against his thighs... showing fully well his black tanga briefs..... HAAAAAAYNAKU!!!!!!!
HOT PACKS. that was my suggestion. apply them over the affected area for 10-15mins, observing only mind comfortable warmth and avoiding too much strenuous activity that may aggravate the healing... that was what i said, as formally as i could, my eyes now gazing blankly at the mat since.... i cannot risk looking anywhere else, lest i find something else to get excited about. i CANNOT take that risk.
he appreciated my suggestion, and in return for my medical opinion... we had a few more rounds of his GLADIATOR routine. a hug would have been better, but i have never been that lucky before.
that night, as i laid in my bed, waiting for slumber to come upon me.... i recalled my trainer and his complaints. it occurred to me that it was taking a bit too long for his strain to heal, considering how good the blood supply is in the groin area. i then recalled him pointing to another area around his privates...
before i slipped into my happy dream, i think i deduced that he should get himself tested for a hernia.
so i have had this, well, FIXATION, with this one particular muay thai trainer. Marlon knows of him, heck we even compared why mine was SO much better than his. anyways, i went back to the boxing gym last night and having forgotten that i just got back that day after a LONG hiatus, my trainer had me do the most grueling sets that left me seeing STARS after we finished (look, there's vilma, nora, and... OMG, was that maricel?)
it didn't help that everyone seem to be afraid of the electric fan. the entire gym's temperature stayed at a toasty 32 degrees... even at 9 in the evening. no air, not much ventilation (because of electric fanophobia) and all that heat generated from all these boxers sweating had me leaking buckets, so much so that with every punch and kick i do, it sends a spray towards my poor trainer.
the punishment was intense.
but what was more intense was my trainer. lean build, small waist, muscular shoulders and torso and utterly flawless skin, glistening in what must be testosterone infused sweat. talk about a hannibal lecter moment... (my precious, AY, wrong character). unlike the aero instructor that i can only muster a brief smile at, i can converse casually with my muay thai trainer. so casually that last night, he was asked my opinion as to how to treat a pulled muscle, knowing that i was a PT. the muscle in question... his adductors... the inner thigh muscles..... where he pulled them..... near his groin. i was seated on the mat already, trying to catch my breath when he stood in front of me, then started POINTING and PRESSING against his, well, package, just to show me where EXACTLY he feels the pain... it took every bit of will power i still had left in me to stop me from staring. i instead focused on his shorts... they were of white polyester.... drenched in sweat.... clinging tightly against his thighs... showing fully well his black tanga briefs..... HAAAAAAYNAKU!!!!!!!
HOT PACKS. that was my suggestion. apply them over the affected area for 10-15mins, observing only mind comfortable warmth and avoiding too much strenuous activity that may aggravate the healing... that was what i said, as formally as i could, my eyes now gazing blankly at the mat since.... i cannot risk looking anywhere else, lest i find something else to get excited about. i CANNOT take that risk.
he appreciated my suggestion, and in return for my medical opinion... we had a few more rounds of his GLADIATOR routine. a hug would have been better, but i have never been that lucky before.
that night, as i laid in my bed, waiting for slumber to come upon me.... i recalled my trainer and his complaints. it occurred to me that it was taking a bit too long for his strain to heal, considering how good the blood supply is in the groin area. i then recalled him pointing to another area around his privates...
before i slipped into my happy dream, i think i deduced that he should get himself tested for a hernia.
Friday, June 18, 2010
looking for Eureka
it has been a habit of mine to often drift into introspection, even while in conversation with people. it almost seems like a moment when my person would unconsciously split into two, the other still very much present in where ever it is that i am, while the other would take a step back, observe and ruminate. i guess this is me trying to be efficient. trying to make the best of my present and learn as much as possible, before i get distracted, before forgetfulness fully takes away whatever gem of wisdom there is to be learned at that moment.
i don't know if this is really normal. i must admit, now that i have put it into words, it does sound kind of strange. but despite all this, i think, i am sane enough to say that i do certain things because they work, for me at least. i am not really the type who asks questions much. i often am too embarrassed to do so. i instead listen... and watch... and feel. i guess this is when splitting into two becomes handy for i can still stay to interact, while at the same time, process all the data i gather through my interactions.
then, there will be moments wherein, i think, a third person would come to play as well. mr. eureka, him who realizes and crystallizes all that i have gathered. funny, i think this is dexter (my intuitive self) all grown up.
i was with marlon and angelo one evening, having coffee after a good meal. while waiting for the rains to let up, i asked a question that was partly word-vomit, partly venting. bad people seem to have always have all the fun, the last laugh and well, their heart's desire. it's been a long grudge i have had against the fates and i guess, i have never really gotten a good enough answer to stop asking the question.
it's not really of me to share something as intimate as this, yet i guess the growing frustration i have had over the years about this issue made me decide on looking for other avenues to get my answers. the fact that i still use the terms "bad" and "good" clearly says of how old this question is.
that evening, with three minds cooperating, my question still remained unanswered.
i think i have to meditate on this question for a few years more.
i don't know if this is really normal. i must admit, now that i have put it into words, it does sound kind of strange. but despite all this, i think, i am sane enough to say that i do certain things because they work, for me at least. i am not really the type who asks questions much. i often am too embarrassed to do so. i instead listen... and watch... and feel. i guess this is when splitting into two becomes handy for i can still stay to interact, while at the same time, process all the data i gather through my interactions.
then, there will be moments wherein, i think, a third person would come to play as well. mr. eureka, him who realizes and crystallizes all that i have gathered. funny, i think this is dexter (my intuitive self) all grown up.
* * * * *
i was with marlon and angelo one evening, having coffee after a good meal. while waiting for the rains to let up, i asked a question that was partly word-vomit, partly venting. bad people seem to have always have all the fun, the last laugh and well, their heart's desire. it's been a long grudge i have had against the fates and i guess, i have never really gotten a good enough answer to stop asking the question.
it's not really of me to share something as intimate as this, yet i guess the growing frustration i have had over the years about this issue made me decide on looking for other avenues to get my answers. the fact that i still use the terms "bad" and "good" clearly says of how old this question is.
that evening, with three minds cooperating, my question still remained unanswered.
i think i have to meditate on this question for a few years more.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
mr. aero instructor
you had me with your celtic (pron. KEL-TIK) armband tattoo. your inked medieval twine, beautifully laced and emblazoned on your glowing brown skin, set against your strong arm, holding tightly as you move and roll. you are a delight to watch. you are a joy to see. tuesday nights are almost sacred now. i wonder when i'll muster the courage to talk to you? for now at least, you return my smiles.
i don't think i want to write about how you look in your briefs. that would be too embarrassing and obscene. blushing now. hihihi.
i don't think i want to write about how you look in your briefs. that would be too embarrassing and obscene. blushing now. hihihi.
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