My Best Friend plus more

[pensive mood]

Sometimes, however dull and manic the week has become, the thought of seeing you in two day’s time brings relief to my thoughts. Your smiles and hugs provide the right comfort to my soul, to my being whole.

I remember how I dismissed you then, and compared it to how much I need you now.

How much did you love me then? Enough to make me love you more now.

Everyone thought we weren't meant to be a couple then. Who would've thought that we're nearing our fourth year now?

having fun while making faces (January 2009)

How Love overwhelmed me one Thursday evening

I was about to go to sleep, but decided to check on my Facebook page to snoop around. And as I go click on to the 'older post' option to see who's been updating lately, my soon-to-wed friend Mina appears with her lovely smack-my-ass-if-this-isn't-at-all-proof-i'm-in-love video.

The song couldn't have been perfect. It fits her fairytale-like story with Manesh (the lucky guy who won her heart over). I'd love to share with you how they began so you could understand where this frolicking heart of mine is at the moment, but I am not well-versed on how their relationship blossomed into such a beautiful portrait (as seen in the picture). But I will be there, soon enough, to witness their historic beginning, to bid them goodbye; off to the start of their wonderful journey.

Until then, this heart of mine will ache for their wedding story.

Side notes [To Mina]: The first thirty seconds was the sweetest. The whole nine yards was history. Extra note:  Permission to upload photo, please. 

To my soon-to-be Maid of Honor

I tried to let the whole world know what you are to me, but no amount of words, nor paper could do you justice.

Happy birthday, G! May the good Creator bless you with more beautiful life years and a handful of blessings.

Real-life Nightmare

I just don’t understand; I contradict myself. I hate how this twenty-four-year-old-grown-ass lady can still make unprofessional decisions in life. I cannot believe how I ended up confusing people around me (myself included), and forgetting the gravity of my actions, at times.

I know, twenty-four is just a number, and the number of age in years has nothing to do with me being RESPONSIBLE, PROFESSIONAL and TRUST-WORTHY. But, at a certain point, I think I owe it to myself, to my parents, to my colleagues, my life partner, and friends to be all those.

Now I deem it necessary to deprive myself of all things that make everyday life comfortable, to teach this sometimes-stupid self a lesson; and to eventually be able to admit upfront that “It’s my fault. I’ll own it up.”

Side notes: A wish could really be of help right now. So if you're a genie, please let this be a dream. And if I'm dreaming, could someone please wake me?

To fear needing

While I was trying to past the time while waiting for you, this is what the odds made me read. And somehow, a speck of my whole being wanted to believe that this could possibly apply to me:

                "Don't be a woman who needs a man...

As much as I love living co-dependently, I fear needing. I fear it more than I do eight-legged freaks. I think "needing" someone is my greatest fear because whenever I need you, I expect more from you, and there's no fun in that. Sometimes I deceive myself by trying not to need you, and end up in the "morbidest" form of solitude. Without needing you, I sometimes feel I can self-destruct.

                  ....Be a woman a man needs!"

Somehow I wish you need me too, in the same intensity that I do you. And I know I must be a fool to believe that two people can be equally passionate about two different things, but I guess I just needed some affirmation that you do (if you're there) or may (eventually) need me in a certain degree. Not that I don't feel that you need me too, sometimes, it's just different if you'll say "I need you."

Side notes: This "hormonal imbalance" thing we women have is really getting into me. 

--o0o--

The morning after this post was written, a friend texted me this:

 Fearlessness - Knowing that you are an instrument in the hands of God and that He is in control. Fear always relates to the future.But always remember that when you get there, God will be there. He says "Stop worrying. Stop being afraid."

And that made all the difference.

Sometimes...

Sometimes I need what I want, until someone proves to me I don’t.

Sometimes I like being neglected (talk about masochism), so I can seek refuge from something else, more often with someone else. Sometimes I like being taken cared of too, because it defines my day or week, more so, it defines how I get to be me.

Sometimes I hate how I miss people, how I obliged them to extend a “Hi” or “Hello” to me whenever necessary. Sometimes, I don’t know when is it necessary, nor can I define necessity at this given aspect.

Sometimes I like to remain unnerved from everything that stresses me out – from work, from love, from home. But I don’t know how long it will eventually take me to be strong enough to not let them get into me… Sometimes, I think that’s impossible.

Sometimes I’m caught up between too many things I love, like singing and writing. Sometimes I like to sing more, other times I write more. Sometimes I think they could never go the same direction.

Sometimes I think love’s absurd, other times I think it just is extraordinary.

Sometimes I love to cry, rant and vent out. Sometimes I think that’s one cowardly act. Sometimes I wish I’ll know how to always keep these eyes dry.

Sometimes I need affirmations to get me through some rough days. Sometimes I think they just lure you to forgetting bad moments, but still nurse those moments with reflection at the end of the day.

Sometimes I think I don’t need anyone, and disprove this to myself all over again.

Sometimes I worry about what’s underneath. Sometimes I think I’m too shallow, sometimes I think I’m too slow. Sometimes I think I’m strong, other times I think I’m wrong.

Sometimes I know I cannot always figure ME out, but sometimes that’s okay, right?

Going gaga over horror movies

I’m scared to death of horror films because as much as I control it, they (ghosts, spirits or what other entity there is) haunt me even in my dreams. The imagination of this coward lady has proven to be very efficient thru fear. And as much as I hate watching these kinds of movies because it makes me want to wet my pants, the movie-buff in me finds joy in criticizing and dissecting every detail, every scary scene, the time line, the catch, and everything in between.

And since I’ve been really meaning to scare myself for the last nine months of this horror-barren year, I’ve downloaded some of my favorite flicks to illustrate to me again why we (horror movies) have this love-hate relationship.

So join me in wishing myself luck and hopefully, a peaceful and good night sleep.

Unburdening the excess baggage

People who stood by me through time know well-enough how I love clutter in my life -- the intellectual, emotional and even the stress garbage are welcome by hugs and kisses. I know, I’m insane, but life without chaos just sort-of feel like abnormal to me. Not until the excess baggage, turned jagged pill, became too heavy for me to load and too big for me to swallow.

The anguish, pain, mistrust, and aches were just some of the things I got into just to feed the habit. I was a masochist, according to my friends. I guess masochism was something I innately practice, and condemn at the same time. At some point, I hated myself for seeking this form of gratification because it just doesn’t make sense.

Now I thank the universe and reality for bitch-slapping me for going too far, and for subjecting my wimpy self to vulnerability.

My life is now moving forward, on to realigning my responsibilities and theirs as well. And now we go towards our own direction, in proportions.

Side note: Things couldn’t have gone any better if not for the unburdening. So I also thank the self-serving souls of this world for the awakening.

Publish Post

My goal for the month is...

...to see my favorite person even more than I already do, just so I can get rid of all the moods that come with missing.

Slow pacing

Somewhere between busy work schedules, breakfast dates with EJ, restaurant-hunting, shopping, traveling, reading, watching TV series, enjoying sarcasms and writing, it felt that the world and the people I care about in life has changed their cycles, hearts and statuses in so little time -- and now I am left behind.

Me and my poor judgment

I've never been really this concerned about making people happy, aside from Dada, Mama and EJ that is. But today, it just felt so immature of me to not share some time with the people who I practically live with, particularly my aunt.

My Auntie Ling is no ordinary aunt. She's having trouble distinguishing fact from fiction; reality from hallucinations. She talks to her imaginary friends, like a child does with her dolls. She covers her ears in terror sometimes because she says there were echoes. She argues with herself most of the time, something I regularly do, but silently. She does it bold, and loud. I distanced from her because it felt nuts sometimes to want to talk to her when suddenly her mood shifts into being nice to being really mad for no apparent reason at all.

And it never really was easy for any of us to deal with these kind of things, and neither was it for her.

I just find it too selfish of me to deprive her of the interpersonal connection, which I know would help her be her old self again. And it may seem a bit too late for this realization, but today, it just feels right to give her back the joy of being with family.

Side note: For what its worth, I am sorry for all the times I let my obscurely naive judgment ruin any relationship that should in fact be cherished and loved.

Monogamous

*In reaction to the bold and lovely blogger I religiously follow: Jodi

I am indeed one of the biggest fan of monogamy. Who wouldn't enjoy the perks of exclusivity, when you have a life partner, best friend, student, competitor, and fan all-in-one?

On the funny side, I'll let the back label of the Monogamy wine do the talking:

However, some relationships do really end up to be much of a habit, and not an endless expo of excitement, of love, or romance. We've heard endless tales about cheating; adultery even. But sometimes, it just isn't being too-into some other guy/girl, sometimes relationship ends because we forget to make our partners feel like we want them; reassuring them that even if they grew a little fatter, or thinner, or darker, we still find them perfect --for us.

Like when a friend of mine broke up with his long-time guy. She said she felt like she was in it to save a three-year relationship, but she wasn't able to find in her heart the love she had for the man anymore. They were too busy saving the relationship, more than just showing their affection, more so the love. They lost the touch. They forgot. She said she wasn't even attracted to him anymore, and we take that the same goes for the other party because he had his eyes for someone even before they broke up.

Now, I feel lucky enough, to be in love with someone who sees (and tells) me how attractive and desirable I am, every so often. Who isn't really concerned about how we do with the relationship, but is concerned about me (well, now at least). We had backslides too, like most couples, but manage to win them over. And now, everything gets better by the day.

And as love make us blind, we forget that we don't really need anyone but ourselves, to make us feel worthy or desirable enough. All we really need is to believe that we are still marketable, pricey enough to draw men who will appreciate us more than we do ourselves. And sometimes, that's more than enough.

Who needs a HE when I have ME?

An open letter to the guy who cried wolf

If you are not part of any of the social sites that I am in, then you're not my friend. Get it?

I don't know what is it with you. I open my circle to anyone I've been in contact with for the last twenty five years by trying to reconnect with the past and all (believing that worthy souls may have passed without me noticing), but you took advantage of the opportunity, and gasped when it was taken away from you too soon.

I know I have always been the patient little red riding hood you've always known. I have changed. And I don't even see the point in trying to explain to you why I need to. Because if you were my friend, that wouldn't be necessary at the first place.

You bombard my inbox with far too many questions for me to want to entertain. You comment on my statuses, as if I needed to explain to you why the sky is blue. You start conversations and you expect me to always understand how you put those H's and W's in every word you write.

You were THAT annoying, that I had to put an end to your limitless access on my page, my wall, my photos, my statuses -- my life. It just felt right to cut you out.

Everything would've been okay, until you cried wolf. And you shamelessly addressed me from someone else's wall. And jumped in your own conclusions in pointing out that I belittled you, among my friends. Congratulations. Now you really had the attention you couldn't get from me weeks ago. And the more did this incident supplement the fact that you really weren't worth to be part of my circle.

THE WORLD DOES NOT REVOLVE AROUND YOU. It never did. It never will.

This is the first, and the last, time that I will make you an issue in my life. So how about you live your own life, and try not to cross mine?

Discerning friends at 59

My mom had some rough ordeals the last couple of months. The second trimester of the year was one of the filthiest time of her life, if I may overstate it.

Well I for one, was shocked when I learned the issues that she went through, especially when I heard it was about her friends. You see,  my mom values her friends more than she does herself. That's how martyr she is with friends, she goes the distance for them without complaint. Sometimes, she even lets them be on her top priority more than anybody, so you can imagine my disappointment when her flocks suddenly turned into ugly ducklings. It never occurred to me that at her age, she have yet to know who her true friends are. This only supplements the concept that age really does prove to be only a number.

It was one sunny day in the month of June I think, when one of her long time friends turned user-pretending-to-be-friend stepped on her like a foot rug in the mud. And it seriously raged me when I heard the story of the backstabbing, and how he shamelessly threw my mom off the garbage can as though she was spoiled food. I sobbed and was so mad that I had to outrageously curse and lambaste his name. I was hurt (to the superlative degree) because I know that bastard since I don't know when and even paid him high respects. It never came to my mind that  he'll be the one who would do that to my mom upfront. Imagine if I was this mad, how much more was my mom.

But I never heard a thing from her (knowing how she nags), I just saw the tears that she hid from me while I asked her what happened. And as it broke my heart to see her keeping her cool and trying to contain her emotions, she told me how it was a waste of time to even talk about it. Even though she denies it, I know how broken she was, and I prayed for her more than I regularly do. Just so she could stand up and be her best again, this time with enough wisdom to discern friends.

After two months, my mom of twenty four years turned fifty-nine. And in celebration for the blessing of life, she opted to share the night with friends -- her real friends that is. I've never seen her happier.

Side note: I thank God for hearing my prayers and for giving Mama true friends to keep her company for the rest of her life.

Of insecurities and positive thinking

I love myself. I love how my hair looks like, my round-shaped face, my vertically-challenged height, my immature ways, my mood swings, my outlook, my choices, my family, my friends, my job. I love everything about myself. I've always seen the glass as half-full. I have never been the jealous-insecure type who complains and rants about things that we should foremost accept, and love even.

But, sometimes, no matter how tightly in love you are with yourself, you know that you lack something that they [others] have, and it just pisses you off. How I wish that this issue in my life can be cooled off with a cup of coffee and a honey-glazed doughnut on the side.

Now, more than ever, a part of me feels inferior knowledge-wise, especially when you can't relate to something that you know should be one of your top interests.

You see, the one man I measure everyone against is a professional gamer. What better job is there other than being paid while you play? Even if this gaming fad is just a speck of his entire being, it occupies half of his everyday life. Though, it's normally not a grown-up job, I don't care. As much as he loves what he does, then there's nothing to discuss about.

Getting back to my point, the only insecurity I have now is the fact that I am not a gamer. Don't get me wrong. I love games. They entertain me. But the harsh fact is I know nothing, as in zip, about anything that concerns MMORPGs (Massive Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game), the what and what not's in the gaming biz. And don't you think it's funny [somehow] to be in love with someone and not know the how-to's in his line of work? Or is it just me?

After three long years, I am now FORCIBLY engaging myself into online gaming, not just to feed the ego of knowing and relating to the man you wish to grow old with. Frankly, I want to share with his joys whenever a new game is being launched, or his whims about the most anticipated games that are yet to be released in the market. I want to be there, when he wins, and more so loses. I want to listen to his stories, that I know I will now be qualified to hear, because I will now be a part of the system he so lovingly embraces.


For the most part, I just want to be welcomed and to feel like I belong in that part of him that I know nothing of. We're never too old to learn something new anyway. ^_^

Bells a' tolling

Love. Weddings. Kids. Family.

I think I got that order right.

Lately, I've been (and will be) hearing church bells ringing (and soon be ringing). And it feels surreal, weddings--being every girl's dream. And as it elates me to see friends tie the knot, move in, and build  families of their own, here comes with fervor,a green-eyed monster who keeps assaulting my hard-earned zen.

Sometimes I hate how love amasses from time, not that I don't want love to last. It just feels so unreal sometimes how one person, from the exact same planet, can make you believe that there lives that one man capable of turning dreams into reality.

And I know how far I've come wandering for that someone who'll love me inside-out. Gladly, I believe to have found mine.

Now I think I just want my bells tolled too.

Side note: Maybe in an earlier time than later?

Run Jenna, Run

Running had been the sport of many nowadays, a fad if I may say. There had been fun run's here and there. God knows how many fun runs were organized in the last 3 months, let alone a whole year. Contrast to what many believed, I really wanted to be an active runner. But, as much as I want to be one, I know (and I accept) that it's just not my cup of tea. You know, I'm good at a lot of things, except maybe cooking and well, running.

But as consolation, the trying-hard me made it a point, that at least once a year, I do my share of the running, threading, and of course walking. And every time I participated in one, my not-so-versatile legs give up too easily. It just couldn't bear the pain (though I'm not even sure if what I feel is pain). It [legs] just wouldn't want to continue anymore. If there was like a U-turn in every fun run I've been into, I guess I would've took it without hesitation. Not that I don't want to stretch myself to its limits, I just don't see the point in even trying to torture my vertically-challenged and timid legs. (Now for a second there, I thought of Hagibis. LEGS.)

Side note: At the back of my mind, I can't help but wish that one day, may the physique bear a little of the equivalent of the heartaches which this tiny heart handles effortlessly.

Of months and Japanese

I met you one August morning, in the hardest year of my life to date. I cannot by any means remember how you were dressed, or what your hair looked like then. I do not even recall us being formally introduced. I guess I care not to notice, because it didn't seem like I needed to.

All I knew then was that you were the uptight fellow across me, the annoyingly quiet guy who paid no deal to the necessity of having friends... not until I dared you to be one (to me).

I remembered how you let your Japanese do the talking for you. Your Ohayou's became an instant hit on my chat list. I secretly wanted to hear that from you every morning (well now you know it). Force of habit, I suppose. You never even missed a day to chat. You were that consistent, and you love hearing my stories, considering the fact that you despised wanting friends.

Then, you played "throwing-crumpled-paper" with me. You even started to share your skills by handing me sketches of my favorite cartoon character out of scratch. And you enjoyed how my jaw dropped in awe with the portrait of Gaara, you show-off.

In no time, you started sharing your stories, and you were slowly pulling off your mask to me. You adapted to my world, you became alive. You began to treat me a little different than everyone else. I remembered being your only confidante. It seemed like you didn't want anything to do with anybody, except me, and I enjoyed the exclusivity.

Then we fought one August morning, from which your love started to blossom. The space apart became your inner foe, that led you to realize that I was something, or someone. And you were now ready to accept love, and be vulnerable.

So you professed your love to me, one October evening. And you used your good old Japanese trick to do the talking for you, yet again. I recalled hearing "Aishiteru's" from you over and over again, because I feign deafness then (yes, I was just playing). Yes I provoked you to speak your piece, because you were to scared to tell it. So what if I tricked you into telling me how you feel? It was after all, the best part of our soon-to-begin relationship.

I remembered telling you I loved someone else then, and it broke my heart as much as it did yours. You even sent me a poem, which led me to appreciate you even more. I cried then, and felt your words pinching my heart. I was caught off guard, I abruptly succumbed to your love.


I first fell in love with you one December evening, when the world felt a little unwelcoming, and you embraced my being in all its complexities.You found the necessity of owning a cellphone for me, just so you can call and ask me how I've been; so you can tell me you loved me time and again.

I gave you the "yes" vote one January evening, in a very uncommon time and setting. I never saw how you reacted to it, but I remembered hearing the jerk in your voice, a happy jerk that is.

After three more Januarys, I fell in love with you more than I could even remember to count; and I blame your Japanese for it.