Sorry

When I was younger, saying "I"m sorry" meant just a couple of simple things: that you didn't mean to do it, and that you'll never do it again. You accidentally kicked another kid's sand castle or forgot to return your seatmate's crayon, but after a talk (with mom or teacher present) and these two little words will be enough to stop the tears and make the booboos go away.

Now that I'm older, I realize that merely saying these words are not often enough. How easy is it to pay lip service. We throw these words thoughtlessly, without much regard that some people do take them seriously.

We say sorry even though we meant to hurt them. We say sorry again and again, knowing we’ll hurt them repeatedly, but confident in the fact that they’ll forgive us in the end. We use “sorry” as some sort of a Band Aid to our wrongdoings: stops the bleeding and covers up the wound, but never quite healing it or removing the scar.

I myself don’t get how just saying sorry makes everything okay again. I guess I’m not one of those forgive and forget types. Which is mighty hypocritical because I’ve done a whole lot of worse things than the person next to me, and how I’ve often resorted to saying sorry to make things right. Sorry, I got knocked up too soon. Sorry, I dated your ex. Sorry, I flaked on our dinner date. Sorry, I failed my monthly scorecard yet again.

We hold on to the anger, all the bitter memories for so long just waiting for these two words to come. Is it worth the wait just to hear these words from that person who screwed us over?

Quotes and random thoughts

I know they are just a pool of really talented writers and a cast of gorgeous, talented actors. But hey, I'm a sucker for tears and quotable quotes. Go Grey's Anatomy! Yey.

Why celibacy can rock: Intimacy is a four syllable word for "Here is my heart and soul, please grind them into hamburger, and enjoy." It's both desired, and feared. Difficult to live with, and impossible to live without.

Well, yeah, you can forgive and forget. But then, not always. People have scars. In all sorts of unexpected places. Like secret road maps of their personal histories. Diagrams of all their old wounds. Most of our wounds heal, leaving nothing behind but a scar. But some of them don't. Some wounds we carry with us everywhere and though the cut's long gone, the pain still lingers.

After a long week acting all grown up busy at work, budgeting bills and whatnot, there are some weekends you just want to kick back and do crazy stuff like you're sixteen again. There comes a point in your life when you're officially an adult. Suddenly, you're old enough to vote, drink, and engage in other adult activities. Suddenly, people expect you to be responsible, serious... a grown up. We get taller, we get older. But do we ever really grow up?

Six years in the company and you wonder why you haven't reached that top yet. Maybe because you stopped trying. Time to get out of the comfort zone. That career workshop speaker yesterday was really witty and inspiring. I wanna kick ass and look gorgeous like her. They take pictures of mountain climbers at the top of a mountain. They’re smiling, ecstatic, triumphant. They don’t take pictures along the way cos who wants to remember the rest of it. We push ourselves because we have to, not because we like it. The relentless climb, the pain and anguish of taking it to the next level. Nobody takes pictures of that. Nobody wants to remember. We just wanna remember the view from the top. The breathtaking moment at the edge of the world. That’s what keeps us climbing. And it’s worth the pain. That’s the crazy part. It’s worth anything.

Remember how we always want the good things to stay the same, forever? Yeah, right. Every cell in the human body regenerates on average every seven years. Like snakes, in our own way we shed our skin. Biologically we are brand new people. We may look the same, we probably do, the change isn't visible at least in most of us, but we are all changed completely forever. When we say things like "people don't change" it drives scientist crazy because change is literally the only constant in all of science. Energy. Matter. It's always changing, morphing, merging, growing, dying. It's the way people try not to change that's unnatural. The way we cling to what things were instead of letting things be what they are. The way we cling to old memories instead of forming new ones. The way we insist on believing despite every scientific indication that anything in this lifetime is permanent. Change is constant. How we experience change that's up to us. It can feel like death or it can feel like a second chance at life. If we open our fingers, loosen our grips, go with it, it can feel like pure adrenaline. Like at any moment we can have another chance at life. Like at any moment, we can be born all over again.

Love, lust, desire, loneliness, insecurity, even just mere attraction. They can turn any rational, normal person into a complete basket case. Nobody chooses to be a freak. Most people don't even realize they're a freak until it's way too late to change it. But no matter how much of a freak we end up being, chances are there's still someone out there for you. Unless they've already moved on, because when it comes to love even freaks can't wait forever.

My Annual Self-Improvement BS

If there’s one thing I hate about New Year (and turning older a few days later) is that feeling of having to look back at the year that was. Yeah, the good times make me smile and crave for more, but the bad ones? They kind of play in slow motion, one cringe-worthy scene after another, just like in the previous years. Same old same old. And every time, like millions of people around the world, I make up this personal list – resolutions, goals, whatever you call them – of things I’ll change, stuff I’ll do, anything to make a brand-spanking-new me.

Then it occurred to me that most of the things I keep trying to promise I’ll do are basically the same ones I’ve been encountering, every single year. I always swear never to make the same mistakes again, yet the holidays’ leftovers have barely cooled off in the fridge, and there I go again, pulling the same crazy shit of the past.

That’s when I realized that maybe I shouldn’t vow to change whenever my birthday comes along. Maybe the reason why these things keep coming up on my to-change list annually is because I can’t change them. Maybe –good or bad, or oftentimes worse – these things are what define me, what makes me, me.

When turned twenty-six, I made a list of 26 things I learned in the previous year at my now defunct Multiply blog. I came across it again and found out some of the things I wrote there weren’t entirely true; I never got over them. But one thing struck me and still holds true to this day: “Maturity doesn’t come with ageing; it comes with experience.” And should you think I’m referring to me being mature, don’t. Hah! Far from it.

So this year, I decided I won’t change, but rather, improve. I can’t become another person entirely, but I can definitely strive to be a better me, yeah? Maybe you can’t teach old dogs new tricks, but you can still wake up that lazy sleeping canine. Ay, where’d that doggie cliché pop out from?

This year, I promise not to promise anything I’ll eventually break (so I guess that includes this promise? Nyaha.)

I can’t be the friend who’ll always be there for you, the kind who’ll drop everything the minute you call with a problem, but I promise that when I do manage to be at your side when your life sucks, I’ll make it worthwhile. I’ll be the best friend you’ll ever have at that particular moment. Because probably it’ll be weeks or months before you can count on me again. And during gimiks and get-togethers, I promise to pay more attention to you and the conversation instead of how many pictures I’ll upload later to Facebook… but only after a couple more group shots, okay? Say cheese!

I can’t promise to be nicer, because I’ll always be a moddy biatch, but I can try not to be any meaner than I already am.

I won’t be able to completely banish pango-okray from my system, but this year maybe I’ll be more subtle and try not to make fun of everyone… that often…in public. Maybe only when I’m in a bad mood. Or when drunk. Which is kinda most of the time.

I will not be able to be less antukin; I will always hoard my sleep, whether I’m in a night or day shift. Sleep is a basic necessity for me, second only to air. If I want to sleep, even if I’m in the middle of a party or drinking sesh, I will have my snooze, goddammit! But maybe I’ll compromise and not sleep in front of my kainumans, or at least ask for permission, instead of just sneaking off in the guise of going to the restroom.

I can actually be more pleasant and less bitchy if only people would not talk to me on my toxic periods: when I just woke up, after a long travel or just got back from work, when I haven’t taken a bath yet, when I’m reading or on a dvd marathon, and when I haven’t had my pre-shift cup of joe and daily dose of Hollywood gossip, among many others. So I guess it’s more of you guys being more perceptive to my moods, alright?

I can’t promise not to fall for the next friendly guy whose idea of getting to know me is through unli-text and illicit workplace IM's. I’ve always been a sucker for that friends-before-lovers crap, and I always end up being either the great reboundee (them being the rebounder?) or the dependable go-to b****. So to avoid future slip ups, I will make a Herculean effort to stay away from them, and instead give strangers a chance, because at the rate I’m going, I’ll end up losing all my guy pals in the end.

I can't promise not to try yet another "pampagan" vitamins in the hopes of gaining weight and growing a bumper and a rack. I might still try from time to time. I can't change my metabolism and genes, and years later, when my contemporaries are struggling to fight middle-age obesity, I'll probably thank the heavens for it. Voluptuous and curvy I'm not. I'm a skinny-assed b**** and I'm proud of it.

I’ve sworn off alcohol on a daily, weekly and annual basis, and have never had much success. What can I say, I love a good drink. Even a bad drink. So perhaps I just love to drink. Although most of the worst beat-myself-up-the-morning-after decisions I had were hatched while I was inebriated, some of the best conversations and friendships I had were made and forged under the influence of alcohol, so I say gimme my next shot! Just maybe this time I’ll try not to get too intoxicated in public, avoid drunk-dialing like the plague, and shut the hell up whenever tipsy, because that’s when my mouth (and my flimsy judgment) gets me in trouble.

Anyhoo… Happy New Year and Happy Birthday to ME! Let’s kick ass, 2011! Two more years before the big 3-0!