*originally written May 15, 2010*
Ngayon alam ko na ang pakiramdam nila, yung mga kaibigan at pamilya ko dati. Noon, inuna ko ang tigas ng ulo. Pinagkamalang pag-ibig ang libog. Pinanindigan ang isang labang wala namang saysay. Pinagpalit ang isang tunay na kaibigan para sa isang batong nagpapanggap na tao. Naggugol ng napakaraming oras, emosyon at pagod para sa... sa... saan nga ba?
Buti, nagising naman ako. Naisip kong hindi ako isang parte lang ng katawan na gagamit-gamitin. Natakot ako na pag lumaki na ang anak ko at magkamalay, isampal nya sa akin ang pagiging mababa at tanga kong babae. Ganito ba ang gusto kong kalabasan niya? Na matapos ko siyang palakihin at alagaan, isang lalaki lang ang gagago at sisira sa kanya? Syempre hindi.
Pinagsabihan nila ako, paulit-ulit hanggang nagsawa na lang sila. Siguro, naisip nila na din na ako yung tipo na kailangan masaktan bago matuto. Kailangang madapa para bumangon. Kailangan gaguhin para makita ang sariling kagagahan.
Ang hirap pala nun. Yung pagmasdan mo ang kaibigan mong harapang sinasaktan, tinatarantado sa maraming tao. Yung alam mong isa syang edukadang babae, kumikita ng sariling pera, may itsura at napalaki ng maayos ng magulang, tapos itatapon lang yun lahat dahil sa takot niyang maging mag-isa.
Hindi lang siya ang lalaki sa mundo, sabi nila dati. Marami pang darating na mas tatrato sayo ng nararapat sayo. Yung papasayahin ka ng hindi mo siya kailangan ibili ng mga materyal na bagay. Yung irerespeto ka kahit ano pa yung nakaraan mo at hindi ito isusumbat sayo mo pag nagtatalo kayo. Yung hahanap-hanapin ka dahil gusto ka niyang lagi kasama, at hindi lang dahil nangangati siya sa kama.
Syempre noon, hindi ko nakita yun. Para sigurong ikaw ngayon. Pero yun nga lang, namulat na din ako. Ikaw kaya, kailan?
Minsan, hindi ko na alam kung -bilang isang tunay na kaibigan - hanggang saan lang ako lulugar sa buhay niya. Tama ba na pagsabihan ko siya? Tama bang bawalan ko siyang makipagkita o makipagkaibigan sa kanya? Panghihimasok na ba yung sabihin ko yung mga hindi magandang bagay na naririnig kong kumakalat tungkol sa kanya, sa kagustuhan kong ipamukha kung anong klase talaga siyang lalaki, para matauhan ang kaibigan ko? O tama lang na hayaan ko siyang pumili, masaktan, at matuto ng kanya lang?
Parang ang sarap nyang hablutin bigla, sigawan at pagalitan. Ang tanga-tanga mo, gusto ko sabihin. Inis na inis na ko kasi hindi ko alam kong nagbubulag-bulagan lang siya o tanga lang talaga.
Siguro, dahil naranasan ko din ang nararanasan nya kaya ayoko nang pagdaanan nya yun. Tama na yung isang beses. Pwede naman magpatawad ng hindi nalilimutan kung ano yung ginawa niya. Walang masama kaibiganin siya basta hindi na siya umaasang may magbabalik sa kanilang dalawa.
Alam mong mahal kita kaya ko sinasabi to.
Sabi nga nila, wag nang ikaw mismo ang humanap ng batong ipupukpok sa ulo mo. Kung gusto mong irespeto ka niya, irespeto mo muna ang sarili mo. Hindi ka makakahanap ng lalaking totoong magmamahal saiyo kung ikaw mismo, hindi mo kayang mahalin ang sarili mo. Kung ganyan ka lang ng ganyan, nagpapa-apak sa mga lalaking katulad nya, ganyan at ganyan din ang mga lalaking dadating sayo. Kahit hindi siya, may iba pang yuyurak sayo hanggat pumapayag ka. Kailan mo sasabihin na tama na? Kailan mo uunahin yung sarili mo?
Wag ka matakot tumanda magisa. Huwag kang magtiyaga sa kanya kasi iniisip mo wala ka ng mahahanap na iba. Natatakot ka kasi na baka hindi ka na magkaasawa, na hindi ka na magkakaanak. Huwag mo ipako ang kinabukasan mo sa isang taong ang isip ay nakatuon lang sa ngayon, sa sarili niya. Dahil kung ipipilit mo ang sarili mo sa ganyang klase ng tao at sitwasyon, habang buhay kang tutungo sa gusto ng ibang tao, at hindi mo mararanasan kung pano paligayan ang sarili mo.
Ngayon sabihin mo kung ako na ang sumosobra kasi titigil na ko.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Fresh Meat
*originally written March 21, 2010*
With all these "going green" trend around, recycling's big right these days. I guess even the dating scene has caught on, with exes getting back together and past flings getting revisited. Friends have been teasing me about our high school batch's 10th year reunion later on this year. "Balikan," they sang. Eww, is what I say. And I don't want to misconstrue an ex's friendliness, despite others' constant ribbing during inuman sessions.
To the guys I've loved and lost...well, don't say you didn't have your chance.
I have learned an important lesson.
The last time I fell for that "One More Chance" crap, I got a little bun in the oven merely four months after. Much as my mom loves her mini-me apo, I'm pretty sure she's not up for another er, "miracle baby." Same goes for recycling other women's junk. Last time I went ukay-ukay mode on another girl's cast off, I lost a really great girl friend and got an emotionally retarded dildo in return. Not exactly a fair trade-off, which sad to say, I rightfully deserved, I guess.
Love is lovelier the second time around? Naku, "been there, been that" hahaha! What a tired, tired cliche! Gone are the days that sentimentality prevented me from completely moving on. Enough with trying to resuscitate an obviously dead relationship or hoping to relive an old flame, just because it seems such a shame to let go of months or years of history together. Thinking how much time I wasted... sigh.
With all these "going green" trend around, recycling's big right these days. I guess even the dating scene has caught on, with exes getting back together and past flings getting revisited. Friends have been teasing me about our high school batch's 10th year reunion later on this year. "Balikan," they sang. Eww, is what I say. And I don't want to misconstrue an ex's friendliness, despite others' constant ribbing during inuman sessions.
To the guys I've loved and lost...well, don't say you didn't have your chance.
I have learned an important lesson.
The last time I fell for that "One More Chance" crap, I got a little bun in the oven merely four months after. Much as my mom loves her mini-me apo, I'm pretty sure she's not up for another er, "miracle baby." Same goes for recycling other women's junk. Last time I went ukay-ukay mode on another girl's cast off, I lost a really great girl friend and got an emotionally retarded dildo in return. Not exactly a fair trade-off, which sad to say, I rightfully deserved, I guess.
Love is lovelier the second time around? Naku, "been there, been that" hahaha! What a tired, tired cliche! Gone are the days that sentimentality prevented me from completely moving on. Enough with trying to resuscitate an obviously dead relationship or hoping to relive an old flame, just because it seems such a shame to let go of months or years of history together. Thinking how much time I wasted... sigh.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
My day at SSS
I had the bright idea to start the day early. Go to the SSS branch in Parian to apply for an ID and be finished before lunch, that way I can get my nails done, start on my Cougartown dvd and perhaps a couple rounds jogging.
Of course, when you're dealing with government offices, things don't always go according to plan. No, that would be too easy. After braving the early Tuesday morning rush from Elbi to Parian -which entails quite a few stop lights that take forever to change and several elementary schools where jeeps and tricycles alike clog the highway - I went inside the office. After filling out the E6 form I hurriedly downloaded online before going here, I was promptly informed by the security guard that SSS has issued a nationwide halt to processing ID's. Wtf? He said I should just wait for announcements on print or TV when the issuing will resume. I laughed. I actually did. I wanted to pull out the huge piece of guava I bought at the jeep terminal and throw it to his smug face.
I asked for the phone number of their particular branch so I may be able to just call in for updates. He told me to ask one of the clerks in front. I approached a man who saw me from the corner of his eye when I tried a couple of times to call him. "Sir? Pwede magtanong?" In typical government employee style, he finally looked up and gave me a bored yet irritated look. I asked where I can apply for an ID and he told me to go to the San Pablo branch.
Great.
So I headed back South and two hours and endless traffic jams later, I was at the SPC office, where an opportunisict tryc driver charged me 30 bucks for the short trip from the church to the branch. I was hot, irate and just want to get this thing over and done with.
Later on, after I had my form stamped, I fell in line for the picture taking. I pulled number 90 from the hook and plunked down a chair. The sour-faced man behind the desk, who was curtly calling out numbers in a gruff voice, was entertaining number 62.
Luveeet. Thank God I had my iPod and a good book with me. I held on to my number tightly, for I noticed the old woman beside me (who was clutching number 113) eyeing my card several times. Mahirap na.
Dozens of pages read and several On-The-Go lists later, Manong Sungit finally called number 88. It was five minutes before 12 noon. The ladies beside me where saying it would close for lunch. True enough, Manong turned off the lights and emerged, giving us all a dirty look, muttering, "Di nga ko nag-break buong umaga eh," and would disappear until a few minutes before one.
I took the time to eat and noticed that Ultimart has gone from the typical provincial clusters of commercial spaces that we used to go to whenever we want to watch movies (no Olivarez or Waltermart yet) or shop. There's a Mango outlet, a Figaro, Mang Inasal and Red Ribbon, among others. Shala!
Thankfully, when I got back, #89 was nowhere to be found and I was processed quickly. I don't know if Manong S is a man of few words or he has a really bad case of halitosis, but he barely uttered words except for when he called my number. He merely signaled for me to sit, look here, press fingerprints and sign. I was about to ask him if the stub would be enough for a loan application, but he swiftly dismissed me by calling out, "Number 91!"
Pak!
Of course, when you're dealing with government offices, things don't always go according to plan. No, that would be too easy. After braving the early Tuesday morning rush from Elbi to Parian -which entails quite a few stop lights that take forever to change and several elementary schools where jeeps and tricycles alike clog the highway - I went inside the office. After filling out the E6 form I hurriedly downloaded online before going here, I was promptly informed by the security guard that SSS has issued a nationwide halt to processing ID's. Wtf? He said I should just wait for announcements on print or TV when the issuing will resume. I laughed. I actually did. I wanted to pull out the huge piece of guava I bought at the jeep terminal and throw it to his smug face.
I asked for the phone number of their particular branch so I may be able to just call in for updates. He told me to ask one of the clerks in front. I approached a man who saw me from the corner of his eye when I tried a couple of times to call him. "Sir? Pwede magtanong?" In typical government employee style, he finally looked up and gave me a bored yet irritated look. I asked where I can apply for an ID and he told me to go to the San Pablo branch.
Great.
So I headed back South and two hours and endless traffic jams later, I was at the SPC office, where an opportunisict tryc driver charged me 30 bucks for the short trip from the church to the branch. I was hot, irate and just want to get this thing over and done with.
Later on, after I had my form stamped, I fell in line for the picture taking. I pulled number 90 from the hook and plunked down a chair. The sour-faced man behind the desk, who was curtly calling out numbers in a gruff voice, was entertaining number 62.
Luveeet. Thank God I had my iPod and a good book with me. I held on to my number tightly, for I noticed the old woman beside me (who was clutching number 113) eyeing my card several times. Mahirap na.
Dozens of pages read and several On-The-Go lists later, Manong Sungit finally called number 88. It was five minutes before 12 noon. The ladies beside me where saying it would close for lunch. True enough, Manong turned off the lights and emerged, giving us all a dirty look, muttering, "Di nga ko nag-break buong umaga eh," and would disappear until a few minutes before one.
I took the time to eat and noticed that Ultimart has gone from the typical provincial clusters of commercial spaces that we used to go to whenever we want to watch movies (no Olivarez or Waltermart yet) or shop. There's a Mango outlet, a Figaro, Mang Inasal and Red Ribbon, among others. Shala!
Thankfully, when I got back, #89 was nowhere to be found and I was processed quickly. I don't know if Manong S is a man of few words or he has a really bad case of halitosis, but he barely uttered words except for when he called my number. He merely signaled for me to sit, look here, press fingerprints and sign. I was about to ask him if the stub would be enough for a loan application, but he swiftly dismissed me by calling out, "Number 91!"
Pak!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
My loner tendencies
It’s been almost two years since I last saw my father. The last time was at my brother’s wedding in January 2009. Since it was probably the first time we saw him again after he left for Iloilo in 2004, and everyone was preoccupied with wedding preparations, there wasn’t really time to talk or bond. And everyone was kind of on the edge, waiting for that one moment Papa and Mama would be left “unsupervised” and hence, Word War III would commence!
Lolo Wins, my dad’s father, passed away last week. We all made last minute plans to go to Iloilo, save for my sister Jean and the kids, as they already had the chance to see Lolo alive and say goodbye last May. I haven’t been to Papa’s hometown since 2006 and haven’t met some of our cousins, so I was kinda excited as well, even under the circumstances.
Mama, Kuya Pao, Ate Joy and I were met at the airport by Papa. He made beso to all of us, even my mom, who looked mighty uncomfortable. It was only when we were all making small talk about the flight and I removed my sunglasses that Papa did a double-take at me. He squinted at my face, broke into laughter and lightly slapped my cheeks. He didn’t recognize me! He thought I was Ate’s officemate.
Being back here and listening to all my relatives and friends talk in lilting Ilonggo, I am reminded of how I often wanted to learn how to speak the dialect. Except for Papa, and Kuya who spent his first semester of college here, all of us only know a smattering of Ilonggo, and can only smile vaguely when our cousins and aunts start bantering in rapid Ilonggo. I’ve always been confused because oftentimes they sound like they’re arguing when they’re actually not, and vice versa.
Some people are actually surprised to learn I do have anti-social tendencies. I’m actually shy. Yes, wipe that drink shooting out of your nose and stop laughing; I am shy. I’m uncomfortable when meeting new people. I abhor small talk, which would probably explain why I’ve never been to a blind date or all the guys I’ve dated are either friends or friends of friends. I’m not used to that initial polite getting-to-know-you phase.
Ate Jean is the gregarious one in the bunch. Perhaps this came from teaching preschoolers for years. If she can entertain or make those brats listen to her, she can very well make anyone follow her lead. Papa is also the talkative, chikadora type, the kind who endears himself to others by making off-color jokes or dropping amusing but sometimes useless trivia about everyone. Kuya got a bit of that, I think. Mama is the ultimate queen B, but her work oftentimes make it necessary for her to play nice, although it only takes very little to provoke her and bring out the B in her, haha. Ate Joy is suplada as well, but her bright, pretty face belies this snobby side of her so people still have a tendency to gravitate towards her.
I’m the moody one. I’ll befriend you if I feel like it; if not, I just won’t talk to you. I prefer making friends with people who are already my friends’ friends, because that cuts the awkward small-talk phase in half. I’m only really friendly when drunk, which is probably why half of the people I met while intoxicated, I don’t remember their names, and half, I can’t recall their faces. Nyaha.
Even at work, when I’m quiet, they know me well enough not to attempt a conversation. When I’m up for it, you can hear me cracking jokes or making fun of my teammates from across the room. But don’t expect me to be little miss perky the first two hours of the shift. I will bite your head off.
This might also explain why, while Kuya and Papa are at the poker table laughing and conversing in Ilonggo with my relatives and friends, Ate Joy has commandeered my iTouch and Yes! magazine to herself, Mama is equally engrossed in her own book, and I am in a dark corner of the house, typing away on my laptop and wishing for a free Wifi with a really strong connection. Faack.
Friday, September 17, 2010
The Dreaded Morning After
I'm sure I haven't met someone who hasn't had one of these. Whether it's the pounding hangover from last night's tequila shots, waking up next to a naked, complete stranger or recalling snippets of a spontaneous pole dance number, everything suddenly hits you the moment you open your eyes or the first streak of sun stains the black sky.
Maybe it's the blanketing anonymity nighttime grants you that you feel safe doing things you never thought you could. Or it's the false bravado alcohol gives you that you feel more confident, more outspoken than you normally would. Perhaps it's the careless, immature thinking that it's just for one night only.
Once you've mulled over last night's events, you're usually awash with regret and shame. There's that OMG moment when you slap your forehead, groan and fall back on your bed, wishing you could hide under the covers forever. Because while you are willing to move on, asap, and erase the previous night's events from your memory, you suddenly recall all the people -friends and strangers alike - who have witnessed you regress into a bumbling, idiotic slut, and that they will probably remember this for a very long time.
Take comfort in the thought that this, too, shall pass. Everyone's entitled to commit mistakes, however big and dumb and embarrassing they are. No matter how grown up you think you are, there's still a little child in you who will always yearn to come out and play, not always in places or in the manner you want it to be in.
We always want what we can't have, do things we regret and say stuff we can't take back. Life is indeed funny, and what's even funnier is that half of the time, all that drama are self-made, self-imposed, immature lapses in judgment.
Maybe it's the blanketing anonymity nighttime grants you that you feel safe doing things you never thought you could. Or it's the false bravado alcohol gives you that you feel more confident, more outspoken than you normally would. Perhaps it's the careless, immature thinking that it's just for one night only.
Once you've mulled over last night's events, you're usually awash with regret and shame. There's that OMG moment when you slap your forehead, groan and fall back on your bed, wishing you could hide under the covers forever. Because while you are willing to move on, asap, and erase the previous night's events from your memory, you suddenly recall all the people -friends and strangers alike - who have witnessed you regress into a bumbling, idiotic slut, and that they will probably remember this for a very long time.
Take comfort in the thought that this, too, shall pass. Everyone's entitled to commit mistakes, however big and dumb and embarrassing they are. No matter how grown up you think you are, there's still a little child in you who will always yearn to come out and play, not always in places or in the manner you want it to be in.
We always want what we can't have, do things we regret and say stuff we can't take back. Life is indeed funny, and what's even funnier is that half of the time, all that drama are self-made, self-imposed, immature lapses in judgment.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Almost but not quite
It was at that precise moment, about two weeks ago, when you reached out for your phone to send him a message on impulse that it really hit you. You've probably done this a thousand times before, whenever you feel like ranting or sharing a joke or just to have someone to talk to to while the bus you're riding on crawls at a snail's pace.
You're pissed. In fact, what happened irked you so much your initial reaction was to bring out the bitch and close him out and pretend you hadn't known him since you two were drooling on the nursery school playground.
It wasn't so much about how abruptly he dropped it on you. It wasn't the cliche it's-not-you-it's-me crap that he pulled on you through text. It wasn't all about losing that chance of a possibility.
It's because two months ago he could've walked naked in front of you and it wouldn't have mattered. He could've kissed girls in front of you and you would've applauded him for being over his "emo" phase. You could've talked about sex and men and dirty stuff and it wouldn't feel awkward. You could laugh for hours over how you bullied him in grade school or how you cried bitterly to him over you ex years after he dumped you for another girl.
Maybe it's because he's been one of your best friends for so long, and you were absolutely fine with that. Maybe because he rocked the status quo. You're pissed because he was on your side, he was one of the good guys, and you felt that when he turned away, he was hurting you on purpose.
But what really got your goat is because you know ultimately it's your own fault. You rushed things when it could've gone on it's own pace. Here was a guy who loved the hunt more than the kill, and you went ahead and handed him the damn shotgun.
Maybe after making do without anyone by your side for a long time, the idea of having that someone you've known for years with you excited you so much you blew the whole thing out of proportion that it crashed and burned before it can even take off. It wasn't love. It was just a feeling, a sudden feeling and you overreacted, and you almost lost him for good because of that.
You're pissed. In fact, what happened irked you so much your initial reaction was to bring out the bitch and close him out and pretend you hadn't known him since you two were drooling on the nursery school playground.
It wasn't so much about how abruptly he dropped it on you. It wasn't the cliche it's-not-you-it's-me crap that he pulled on you through text. It wasn't all about losing that chance of a possibility.
It's because two months ago he could've walked naked in front of you and it wouldn't have mattered. He could've kissed girls in front of you and you would've applauded him for being over his "emo" phase. You could've talked about sex and men and dirty stuff and it wouldn't feel awkward. You could laugh for hours over how you bullied him in grade school or how you cried bitterly to him over you ex years after he dumped you for another girl.
Maybe it's because he's been one of your best friends for so long, and you were absolutely fine with that. Maybe because he rocked the status quo. You're pissed because he was on your side, he was one of the good guys, and you felt that when he turned away, he was hurting you on purpose.
But what really got your goat is because you know ultimately it's your own fault. You rushed things when it could've gone on it's own pace. Here was a guy who loved the hunt more than the kill, and you went ahead and handed him the damn shotgun.
Maybe after making do without anyone by your side for a long time, the idea of having that someone you've known for years with you excited you so much you blew the whole thing out of proportion that it crashed and burned before it can even take off. It wasn't love. It was just a feeling, a sudden feeling and you overreacted, and you almost lost him for good because of that.
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