I was standing near the dining table yesterday, all set to go out. My tita walks in, looks at me in thoughtful silence.
"La," she starts.
"Ano?"
"Ba't wala ka pang boyfriend?"
I stare back at her, and then we both guffaw uncontrollably. What a way to start the day.
Walking to the village gate, I then remember what a friend had told me the other day while we were waiting for the train. He mentioned my ex, and wondered why weren't together anymore (goodness it's been two years and they're still at it). He casually adds that I'm "girlfriend material". I don't know if I should be flattered or appalled. I'm leaning towards the latter. It just sounds weird. What is that, anyway? Girlfriend material. It's...unfair, somehow. Sabagay, meron din namang boyfriend material. Ah, the intricacies of male-female relationships.
Anyway, so I go to my dinner and drinking session (90 proof. Emerald St., Ortigas. Cheap beer. 80s music. Dead Poets Society on video. Gooood stuff.) with SURP people. At 3 am, I'm on my way home. My friend who took a cab with me suddenly asks, "wala bang nanliligaw sa 'yo ngayon?"
What is up? What, what, WHAT?
So now I'm wondering, do I really, actually want to have a boyfriend? At this point in my life? I feel like there's this wave, slowly building up, and I'm just staring at it, clueless, not knowing if I should run or just stand and wait for it to tumble over. I have this nagging suspicion that the universe is trying to tell me something. It's so Coelho. Sheesh.
To top it off, at the prodding of my brother, I took a test at OKCupid. My brother, of all people. But he wanted me to appreciate the "cleverness" of the test. Looked a lot like Quizilla to me. Anyway, got the results below:
The Window Shopper
Random Gentle Love Dreamer (RGLDf)
Loving, hopeful, open. Likely to carry on an romance from afar. You are The Window Shopper. You take love as opportunities come, which can lead to a high-anxiety, but high-flying romantic life. You're a genuinely sweet person, not saccharine at all, so it's likely that the relationships you have had and will have will be happy ones. You've had a fair amount of love experience for your age, and there'll be much more to come.
Part of why we know this is that, of all female types, you are the most prone to sudden, ferocious crushes. Your results indicate that you're especially capable of obsessing over a guy you just met. Obviously, passion like this makes for an intense existence. It can also make for soul-destroying letdowns.
Your ideal match is someone who'll love you back with equal fire, and someone you've grown to love slowly. A self-involved or pessimistic man is especially bad. Though you're drawn to them, avoid artists at all costs. ###
I love how the internet tries to dictate my future. Haha. By the way, the reading is not entirely true. I am not prone to sudden, ferocious crushes. I don't even know what the hell a crush is. But I am drawn to artists. And I am genuinely sweet. Shut up, this is MY blog.
I digress. Thing is, honestly, relationships scare me. Or they're starting to. I was all out with my last one, and now I'm...apprehensive. I'm now honest enough to say that. I mean, yes, I'm looking forward to meeting that best friend, that one person I can rely on and trust with my life and heart and all that jazz. I've said that more than once, and it's true. I have faith (and "anticipation is the purest form of pleasure"). But the reality of a relationship is actually kinda scary. I think because I don't want to make the same mistakes that I made in the past. I want the next one to be real, honest. And fun, dammit!:)
I had a dream recently. I was on a race track (F1, I believe, hehe), holding a guidebook or rulebook or some literature about racing. I wondered what it was about, coz I've never had a racetrack dream, if you know what I mean. A friend guessed that it meant I was running out of time and that I should probably speed up (she was pertaining to my love life, naturally). I joked that maybe I'm just running away from my past, haha.
But you know how it feels when you're running a race? All the adrenalin, and the insane determination to reach the finish line first? I get that feeling, too. And for the most part, it feels awesome. It's such an inspired run. Problem is, whenever I get very close to the chequered flag, I almost always begin to slow down, or worse, bail out completely. I don't just lose steam, I will myself to lose steam. I woke up from my dream with that exact same feeling.
I dunno, think all the disappointments in my past are causing this debilitating insecurity.
So maybe I don't want a relationship, maybe I do. Or maybe what the universe is telling me is simply to stop losing sleep over my dilemma and just run the race to see where it will take me.
I'm hoping for a podium finish. But there's no guarantee.
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Thursday, April 21, 2005
I DON'T KNOW WHAT TITLE I SHOULD GIVE THIS POST. IT'S JUST BASICALLY A GOOD DAY. *SHRUG*
It's been a week since I had my refraction, and I still don't have my new glasses. Apparently, something was wrong with the choice of frames. My lenses will be too thick for them, so I have to pick new frames. Mama fetched me at the Senate this afternoon, and she brought with her some frames from her doctor friend.
This is a big problem for me. Me, Libran, indecisive, confused, torn. There is no way I can decide on another pair of glasses. I spent hours in the clinic just a week earlier looking over numerous frames, only to settle for the one my doctor picked for me. And now this?
Fine. I sat in the car clutching a mirror and two pairs of glasses (only? yay, big step!), with a pained looked.
"Asa'n si Wilford?" Mama asked. She asked if Wilf wanted to hitch a ride with us to Vito Cruz.
I called Wilford. Uuwi ka na ba? Oo. Nagpasundo ka ba? Oo. Ah..baba ka naman muna o, bilis! Bakit? Patulong sandali.
Haay, yes, I can be a brat, too.
Wilf went down, looking flustered and confused. I showed him my dilemma, and we stood at the Senate parking lot looking at the two pairs of glasses. I tried each one and forced him to assess, over and over and over again.
And he did. He was serious about it, too.
I do have the sweetest friends. :D
In the end, he chose the one I initially thought was boring, but he said was younger-looking. Mama said he had a point.
I took home both frames. I still haven't decided. HAHAHA. But thanks Wilf. You're the best.
----
Mama and I passed by HP on our way home. We bought junk food and a pair of slippers. We had coffee at Figaro, watched people for a while, and looked at some pearls. She bought me a pretty pearl bracelet (she's a very impulsive pearl buyer). Walking away from the store, she said, "sosyo tayo diyan ha. O permanent na ba sa 'yo yan?"
I actually liked the pearls she bought me. Permanent, of course!
What were we to do, then, but go back so she could buy her own, identical bracelet? Haay, Mama.
So we got our way with the pearls. On our way back to the car and looking at our bracelets--yes, we wore them immediately--I realized we suddenly have mother-and-daughter jewelry. First time.
Heehee, kilig.
This is a big problem for me. Me, Libran, indecisive, confused, torn. There is no way I can decide on another pair of glasses. I spent hours in the clinic just a week earlier looking over numerous frames, only to settle for the one my doctor picked for me. And now this?
Fine. I sat in the car clutching a mirror and two pairs of glasses (only? yay, big step!), with a pained looked.
"Asa'n si Wilford?" Mama asked. She asked if Wilf wanted to hitch a ride with us to Vito Cruz.
I called Wilford. Uuwi ka na ba? Oo. Nagpasundo ka ba? Oo. Ah..baba ka naman muna o, bilis! Bakit? Patulong sandali.
Haay, yes, I can be a brat, too.
Wilf went down, looking flustered and confused. I showed him my dilemma, and we stood at the Senate parking lot looking at the two pairs of glasses. I tried each one and forced him to assess, over and over and over again.
And he did. He was serious about it, too.
I do have the sweetest friends. :D
In the end, he chose the one I initially thought was boring, but he said was younger-looking. Mama said he had a point.
I took home both frames. I still haven't decided. HAHAHA. But thanks Wilf. You're the best.
----
Mama and I passed by HP on our way home. We bought junk food and a pair of slippers. We had coffee at Figaro, watched people for a while, and looked at some pearls. She bought me a pretty pearl bracelet (she's a very impulsive pearl buyer). Walking away from the store, she said, "sosyo tayo diyan ha. O permanent na ba sa 'yo yan?"
I actually liked the pearls she bought me. Permanent, of course!
What were we to do, then, but go back so she could buy her own, identical bracelet? Haay, Mama.
So we got our way with the pearls. On our way back to the car and looking at our bracelets--yes, we wore them immediately--I realized we suddenly have mother-and-daughter jewelry. First time.
Heehee, kilig.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Monday, April 18, 2005
RUNAWAY
I didn't go to work today. I have a runny nose and a bad stomach. It's an excuse but it's not.
I don't even want to explain myself. I'll probably finish this summer thing, and then I'm off. Back to reality. Back to real problems that need honest solutions.
---
I have a runny nose because I spent two days with my cousin who was sick.
Last weekend, all the three Houses (Rosary, Indonesia, Hillcrest) that make up the Family went to Laguna. The trip was off to a bad start. I woke up late last Saturday because I was out the previous night with Len and Bullet, and I was at Greenbelt until 3 a.m. slapping my arms (Makati isn't immune to mosquitoes, after all) and waiting for Ivan to fetch me. Ivan was up late, too, and had to pick up the Hillcrest House people, plus Hani and her relatives. We left Paranaque at 9, and a few minutes later Ivan had a flat tire. The drive to Sta. Cruz, Laguna was lightened somewhat by the presence of Samille, my two-year-old, sick cousin who kept shouting "Darna!" in the car. It was all good, until she vomited all over herself. To prevent her from crying, we had to entertain her by pointing to just about everything (Ricefields! Carabao! Umbrella with a girl!).
We picked up my tita in Sta. Cruz and we headed to our first destination, Majayjay Falls. Damn. It was a tough ride. Tough. Worse than Baguio. It didn't feel like Laguna at all. My mom is particularly freaked out by sharp curves and steep slopes, so it didn't help that she was the only one who knew how to drive in the car we were in (the others were in the other vehicles). It also didn't help that Ivan was driving like a maniac in front of us. He was hurrying because Hani had to be back in Manila by 8 to watch Kitchie Nadal. It was friggin 2 pm and we weren't halfway there yet! Anyway, I had to grab my seat just looking at the yellow van cutting its way through provincial traffic. Once, it ran through a rope stretched out on the road. Turns out people in the province do that, to stop cars so they can ask for donations or something. Ivan looked like he was about to punch someone. We thought he ran over a kid. Hay.
So we got to Majayjay, where the barangay hall was full of people with high-powered guns (NPA-infested area). We had lunch at the parking grounds. Sugpo, tapa, itlog na pula, ukoy, lechon, homemade sago't gulaman, saging. Hay.:) Solb na ko.
The actual falls was a "10-minute walk" away. 10 minutes to people in Majayjay is like "walking distance" to Len. You gotta re-adjust your definitions.
"Don't worry, it's worth it!" a guy who passed by called out, after seeing the look on our faces when he said "malayo pa ho." Well, it better be worth it.
And it was, thankfully. Majayjay is a beautiful place. Big boulders, clear water. The water fell down fast from the mountain to a shallow lake, and down again through rocks, forming a river. There was a lot of people, and we had to make do with a couple of boulders to set up our stuff. The water was uber cold, but felt good after a while. The place gives you the feeling that you're a nymph--or ant, whichever creature delights you--in this nice, wide, wonderful world. You can have everything you wish for, the world can do as it pleases with you and there will no abuse of any kind.
We left at about 6 pm. Ivan and Hani went back to Manila, the rest of us back to Sta. Cruz to my tita. I zonked out as soon as I touched the banig. No shower, no dinner. I woke up in the middle of the night to the voices of my relatives. They were arguing about Ivan's future, basically. I realized it was a "grown-up" conversation, and while I could've gotten up and joined in, I chose to be a kid and just lie there, pretending to be asleep. People argued, nothing was resolved. They got tired and finally went to bed. I wiped my tears and curled up.
When I woke up they were getting ready to go to Quezon. This was totally unplanned, and I had to be back in Manila to attend Sarah's McDo party. But since I was a "good" kid and I didn't have a car nor knew how to drive, I was stuck.
The trip to Quezon was hell. It was irritating enough that they were pushing to go there beyond normal reason and despite the sheer logistical difficulties, but the beach wasn't so nice, either. I waded in the waters to make my mother happy, and took pictures to keep myself entertained.
We finally got home at 10 pm, sweaty and dead tired. After a much-needed shower and dinner, I fell asleep again. I woke up today feeling the urgent need to take a dump. Must have been all the itlog na pula that I ate. In the toliet, I realized I had a runny nose.
I hate that. Sitting in the toliet with an aching tummy and a runny nose. It's the worst feeling in the world. And that's when I fell in love with the idea of not going to work. Nyahaha.
I don't even want to explain myself. I'll probably finish this summer thing, and then I'm off. Back to reality. Back to real problems that need honest solutions.
---
I have a runny nose because I spent two days with my cousin who was sick.
Last weekend, all the three Houses (Rosary, Indonesia, Hillcrest) that make up the Family went to Laguna. The trip was off to a bad start. I woke up late last Saturday because I was out the previous night with Len and Bullet, and I was at Greenbelt until 3 a.m. slapping my arms (Makati isn't immune to mosquitoes, after all) and waiting for Ivan to fetch me. Ivan was up late, too, and had to pick up the Hillcrest House people, plus Hani and her relatives. We left Paranaque at 9, and a few minutes later Ivan had a flat tire. The drive to Sta. Cruz, Laguna was lightened somewhat by the presence of Samille, my two-year-old, sick cousin who kept shouting "Darna!" in the car. It was all good, until she vomited all over herself. To prevent her from crying, we had to entertain her by pointing to just about everything (Ricefields! Carabao! Umbrella with a girl!).
We picked up my tita in Sta. Cruz and we headed to our first destination, Majayjay Falls. Damn. It was a tough ride. Tough. Worse than Baguio. It didn't feel like Laguna at all. My mom is particularly freaked out by sharp curves and steep slopes, so it didn't help that she was the only one who knew how to drive in the car we were in (the others were in the other vehicles). It also didn't help that Ivan was driving like a maniac in front of us. He was hurrying because Hani had to be back in Manila by 8 to watch Kitchie Nadal. It was friggin 2 pm and we weren't halfway there yet! Anyway, I had to grab my seat just looking at the yellow van cutting its way through provincial traffic. Once, it ran through a rope stretched out on the road. Turns out people in the province do that, to stop cars so they can ask for donations or something. Ivan looked like he was about to punch someone. We thought he ran over a kid. Hay.
So we got to Majayjay, where the barangay hall was full of people with high-powered guns (NPA-infested area). We had lunch at the parking grounds. Sugpo, tapa, itlog na pula, ukoy, lechon, homemade sago't gulaman, saging. Hay.:) Solb na ko.
The actual falls was a "10-minute walk" away. 10 minutes to people in Majayjay is like "walking distance" to Len. You gotta re-adjust your definitions.
"Don't worry, it's worth it!" a guy who passed by called out, after seeing the look on our faces when he said "malayo pa ho." Well, it better be worth it.
And it was, thankfully. Majayjay is a beautiful place. Big boulders, clear water. The water fell down fast from the mountain to a shallow lake, and down again through rocks, forming a river. There was a lot of people, and we had to make do with a couple of boulders to set up our stuff. The water was uber cold, but felt good after a while. The place gives you the feeling that you're a nymph--or ant, whichever creature delights you--in this nice, wide, wonderful world. You can have everything you wish for, the world can do as it pleases with you and there will no abuse of any kind.
We left at about 6 pm. Ivan and Hani went back to Manila, the rest of us back to Sta. Cruz to my tita. I zonked out as soon as I touched the banig. No shower, no dinner. I woke up in the middle of the night to the voices of my relatives. They were arguing about Ivan's future, basically. I realized it was a "grown-up" conversation, and while I could've gotten up and joined in, I chose to be a kid and just lie there, pretending to be asleep. People argued, nothing was resolved. They got tired and finally went to bed. I wiped my tears and curled up.
When I woke up they were getting ready to go to Quezon. This was totally unplanned, and I had to be back in Manila to attend Sarah's McDo party. But since I was a "good" kid and I didn't have a car nor knew how to drive, I was stuck.
The trip to Quezon was hell. It was irritating enough that they were pushing to go there beyond normal reason and despite the sheer logistical difficulties, but the beach wasn't so nice, either. I waded in the waters to make my mother happy, and took pictures to keep myself entertained.
We finally got home at 10 pm, sweaty and dead tired. After a much-needed shower and dinner, I fell asleep again. I woke up today feeling the urgent need to take a dump. Must have been all the itlog na pula that I ate. In the toliet, I realized I had a runny nose.
I hate that. Sitting in the toliet with an aching tummy and a runny nose. It's the worst feeling in the world. And that's when I fell in love with the idea of not going to work. Nyahaha.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
CHOCOLATE-RESISTANT
I texted my professor today. Yep, that professor. Couldn't help it. Had to thank him for my fabulous grade (which kept me alive after yesterday's exhausting and disappointing site plan presentation).:P Thanked him, too, for inspiring his students to want to be good planners. "Don't stop teaching," I told him.
As if on cue, he said he'll be finishing his contract with SURP, which ends next year. After that, he's off "to find a better-paying job."
So much for inspiration. Sad, sad, sad. This is what UP gets for not taking care of its faculty. How many professors have I known to leave UP because of the exact same reason? Yes, yes, teaching is a vocation. How I wish I could say that to my professor but 1) that would be too preachy and 2) vocation shouldn't be as undignified as it is in this country's public school system.
It's just...I dunno, depressing. Ever since I interviewed one of my teachers about this problem years ago (right before he was pirated by DLSU and given thrice what he was getting in UP), I've always made it a point to tell good teachers that they are good, that they are worth more to their students than they think. Fine, it's not as if words can make up for the unjust pay, but I hoped, anyway. It's probably a futile attempt.
Haay, life.
---
I got on the wrong jeepney on the way home today. It took the FTI route, the one on the other, darker side of the highway, with all the junk and vulcanizing shops and hold-ups. Katakot. Kainis. I was so irritated and scared out of my wits that I had to pass by SM to buy chocolate, my standard upper. I managed to finish the entire bar halfway home; I was stuck in traffic because the road used as a shortcut by just about everyone in Paranaque, which is also the one I use everyday, is under construction at both ends at the same time. Hello.
And then when I got home, I opened the ref and, lo and behold, a box of chocolates sat inside, free for the taking, looking satisfied as it stared back at me.
Kainis.
Haay, life.
---
As if on cue, he said he'll be finishing his contract with SURP, which ends next year. After that, he's off "to find a better-paying job."
So much for inspiration. Sad, sad, sad. This is what UP gets for not taking care of its faculty. How many professors have I known to leave UP because of the exact same reason? Yes, yes, teaching is a vocation. How I wish I could say that to my professor but 1) that would be too preachy and 2) vocation shouldn't be as undignified as it is in this country's public school system.
It's just...I dunno, depressing. Ever since I interviewed one of my teachers about this problem years ago (right before he was pirated by DLSU and given thrice what he was getting in UP), I've always made it a point to tell good teachers that they are good, that they are worth more to their students than they think. Fine, it's not as if words can make up for the unjust pay, but I hoped, anyway. It's probably a futile attempt.
Haay, life.
---
I got on the wrong jeepney on the way home today. It took the FTI route, the one on the other, darker side of the highway, with all the junk and vulcanizing shops and hold-ups. Katakot. Kainis. I was so irritated and scared out of my wits that I had to pass by SM to buy chocolate, my standard upper. I managed to finish the entire bar halfway home; I was stuck in traffic because the road used as a shortcut by just about everyone in Paranaque, which is also the one I use everyday, is under construction at both ends at the same time. Hello.
And then when I got home, I opened the ref and, lo and behold, a box of chocolates sat inside, free for the taking, looking satisfied as it stared back at me.
Kainis.
Haay, life.
---
Friday, April 01, 2005
THOSE DAYS
There are good days, and then there are bad days. I've been having a bad day for the past three weeks.
I can't even begin to tell. I've lost count of the mishaps, I've lost track of the days and what happened in those days, what went wrong first, what went wrong next. They're all the same and can all be summed up in one word: hell.
This has been a tragic semester. I've cried over final papers, cursed silently at groupmates who JUST DON'T GET A CLUE, began to really hate someone who is so utterly insensitive, selfish and inconsiderate (I'm trying to figure out a way to avoid that person for the rest of my life). I've stayed at other people's houses for days straight, spent nights and middle-of-the-nights in the computer room of my school. Naturally, I also had to endure countless lectures on my being a babaeng kalye and kaladkarin from Kamag-anak Incorporated.
I've called my ex, for crying out loud, just so I could understand stupid, stupid STUPID regression. I've called other people's boyfiends, too. At this very moment Shiva's boyfriend, whom I've met only once and know as Leonard, Shiva's boyfriend (I know other stuff, too, but, well.), is at the City Planning and Development Office in Baguio City, getting data on vehicles, traffic, barangay population and the Athletic Bowl for me, for my final project which he knows nothing about. I'm freaking out and extremely calm at the same time because on one hand, nakakahiya talaga to ask someone who's miles and miles away to practically do your research for you because your groupmate wasn't able to do it, but on the other hand I know he's really, really nice and wouldn't mind doing it.
I've used up all my phone minutes calling everyone I know (and only slightly know). I've shunned my friends whose only crime is to find out if I'm still breathing, and snapped at my relatives because they were their usual insane selves, and for once I couldn't stand it.
In short, I let the crap of life get the best of me. And all for what? A bunch of unos I probably won't get? My becoming "very good at what I do?" Damn, I don't know that. I just wanna get through this.
So here I am now, listening to the Beatles' A Hard Day's Night (ek, how fitting). Ahh, thank the Beatles, Pablo Neruda and his poems read by beautiful voices on the Il Postino ST, Jason Mraz, Westlife and their attempts at Frank-hood, Michael Buble, No Doubt, Red Hot Chili Peppers and all the other musical artists who kept me awake in those nights of disquiet when I hated the world as I wrote my research proposal and dreamt of pushing my professor off the cliff.
I can't even begin to tell. I've lost count of the mishaps, I've lost track of the days and what happened in those days, what went wrong first, what went wrong next. They're all the same and can all be summed up in one word: hell.
This has been a tragic semester. I've cried over final papers, cursed silently at groupmates who JUST DON'T GET A CLUE, began to really hate someone who is so utterly insensitive, selfish and inconsiderate (I'm trying to figure out a way to avoid that person for the rest of my life). I've stayed at other people's houses for days straight, spent nights and middle-of-the-nights in the computer room of my school. Naturally, I also had to endure countless lectures on my being a babaeng kalye and kaladkarin from Kamag-anak Incorporated.
I've called my ex, for crying out loud, just so I could understand stupid, stupid STUPID regression. I've called other people's boyfiends, too. At this very moment Shiva's boyfriend, whom I've met only once and know as Leonard, Shiva's boyfriend (I know other stuff, too, but, well.), is at the City Planning and Development Office in Baguio City, getting data on vehicles, traffic, barangay population and the Athletic Bowl for me, for my final project which he knows nothing about. I'm freaking out and extremely calm at the same time because on one hand, nakakahiya talaga to ask someone who's miles and miles away to practically do your research for you because your groupmate wasn't able to do it, but on the other hand I know he's really, really nice and wouldn't mind doing it.
I've used up all my phone minutes calling everyone I know (and only slightly know). I've shunned my friends whose only crime is to find out if I'm still breathing, and snapped at my relatives because they were their usual insane selves, and for once I couldn't stand it.
In short, I let the crap of life get the best of me. And all for what? A bunch of unos I probably won't get? My becoming "very good at what I do?" Damn, I don't know that. I just wanna get through this.
So here I am now, listening to the Beatles' A Hard Day's Night (ek, how fitting). Ahh, thank the Beatles, Pablo Neruda and his poems read by beautiful voices on the Il Postino ST, Jason Mraz, Westlife and their attempts at Frank-hood, Michael Buble, No Doubt, Red Hot Chili Peppers and all the other musical artists who kept me awake in those nights of disquiet when I hated the world as I wrote my research proposal and dreamt of pushing my professor off the cliff.
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