Archive for December 2008
I haven’t really been in front of my monitor since my sister’s wedding (‘coz I had to do their AVPs), much less blog and surf the net since I posted my last entry here. It’s not that long but a lot of drama has took over my life in that short span of time. My fingers have been itching to write them all down but I guess I just couldn’t find the time. Actually, this holiday break gives me all the time in the world without the hassle of thinking about work but I am actually resolved to putting it all to waste… tsk… bad…
This is the first time in months (or years) that I have felt rested yet tired and anxious and oblivious to the ticking of the time. It seems like all I want to do is stare at space and make my mind wander off to somewhere far where I could practically smell the breeze and count the stars.
What I’m saying is, I haven’t done anything productive in the ten days that I’ve been away from work (I’m counting since the 18th where I took a half day leave and never showed my face in our office until the Christmas party last Monday, 22nd). I’ve been dead for three days (pardon the morbidity but I was really almost… details later).
Always a Maid of Honor, But When Will I Be the Bride?
Oh, cut the BullSh*t! I’ve been MOH only twice in my life and it both happened the latter part of this year. First last October at my highschool bff (hah!) Elizabeth’s wedding and about a week ago at my sister’s wedding. Never a Bridesmaid… always the MOH but as the nagging question goes: When will I be the bride?
Don’t get me wrong. I am not asking myself this and I am no hurry at all. But a lot of people (especially my clan!) seem to be haunted by the very idea of my single-ness more than me. And the pressure is on! I mean ON like a flickering sign post at some random gay bar in Malate or that light bulb that used to inhibit Einsten’s brain. I’ve never been pressured about my LOVElife (if I have any) and I am getting tired of it. It’s like having that dream where I wear that wedding gown I fancy and I keep on running, only to find myself that I’m not really running from anyone but instead, I am running on a threadmill. It’s really frustrating and tiring.
Pardon the exaggeration but I’ve perused all the fingers in both my hands and feet on the number of times that I’ve been asked on when would it be my turn. My grandma, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, my friends, our neighbors, some people I don’t even know and probably, my cat Miyo and dog Wonbin, if only they could talk. And believe me, I am almost a pro in ducking this dreaded question every time some a** comes up to me and starts with the “So, Thet…” line. I’ve only got three answers: 1) “After ten years”; 2) “Nagpapayaman pa ‘ko” (Not until I’m filthy and disgustingly rich); and 3) “I don’t know” (followed by a smile and a disappearing act even before the person can come up with a follow-up banter). I’ve programmed myself to blurt these three out whenever needed and in no particular order. It’s like whatever pops in my head comes out of my mouth and the way I deliver them depends on who asks. They may come with a smile, a smirk, a rolling of the eyes, a shrug… whatever.
And I always get the same response: “Aha-ha..ha!” As if something like that is something to make fun of. It’s not funny. Darn insensitive schmucks.
I’m not bothered I tell you. I am just tired (of it) and when you are tired, you can get easily annoyed and you tend to see flashbacks of not so good memories and it eats up half of your functioning brain and then you go… flatline.
What I WAS really sad about is the feeling that my sister has been taken away from me. It’s silly I know because she wasn’t but that was how it felt at first. We’ve been too close and I am so used to having her around me and her quirky weird little habits and I am missing them all big time. Like, when I wake up, I’ve had this habit of looking up at her side of the room and waking her up with a hug or a tickle or snuggling with her only to annoy her. I miss her teeth-grinding and snoring which used to piss the hell out of me. Hell, I even miss her passing gas and burping habits early in the morning. (Sorry ate, never meant to diss your yucky habits… hehe!) All I can think of now is that I’m free of those and her hubby has to bear it all… bwahaha!
But a week into her marriage and my being solo in the room, I guess I’m getting that hang of things. I haven’t touched any of my stuff and I haven’t re-arranged it in time for the new year but I will. Plus, have I mentioned, they live in a room that my mom used to rent out to others just below mine? =)
26 and Still A ‘Stokwa’ (Stow Away)
Yup. I ran away again. But I am back now, obviously.
I told you that this holiday was nothing but drama for me. My mom and I had a row three days before Christmas and because of the burden I was fighting off inside me, my mind was in no condition to function so I resorted to the easiest way out. Drenched in tears, I packed my bags (three of them) and left home in the wee hours of December 23rd.
My destination? Victory Liner Pasay Terminal. I thought I could spend some time in the coolest place in the Philippines to cool off my steaming head. I was determined to go to Baguio.
So at about 4 in the morning, I was in line together with other chance passengers for the subsequent trips to my ‘home’ up north. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) all the trips were fully booked and the next available one wasn’t until 11am. I was too numb to feel anything. I was swallowed by anger and frustration and at that time, I felt so uninhibited that if I had my passport with me, I could have gone straight to the airport and took whichever available flight to any destination in Asia. But a small part of me was banging my head, trying to keep it reasonable. So, I settled for Baguio and waited in line.
One hour. Two hours passed. Clad in that little blue dress I was wearing at the party I attended the night before, with my laptop [backpack] bag, mini duffel bag and handbag in tow, I stood there in line, crying my eyes out, not caring about anything in the world. I see people staring at me and I stare back. I was thinking but all those thoughts were nothing but messy jumbled snippets of what have and what would happen should I push through with my plan (if you could call it that). Where would I go there? Would there be any available hotel rooms? How long would I stay there? Can I really spend Christmas away from home, by myself, sad and angry?
Then the lady guard motioned for me to come forward and aboard the bus. Finally, I earned my seat! That was 6am already. But as if I was hit by a slap in the face, I shook my head and told her she could give my seat to somebody else. I will just wait. She obviously looked confused thinking why on earth would I give up that seat after two hours of standing in line. I can only smile and settle myself on a nearby table. Hugging my duffel bag tight, I just sat there for hours… maybe about two or three hours… not doing anything. Just sitting there and thinking. I didn’t move once. I looked like somebody who just lost someone dear. Yes I did, I lost myself at that moment. I wasn’t about to go home. I just decided not to push through with my Baguio plan.
The rest of this story is history. I wasn’t suppose to go back home but my sister and her hubby fetched me wherever I was at that time and as if nothing happened, I spent the latter part of the day tiring myself out, shopping. No sleep whatsoever…
I went home late, looking totally messed up. I didn’t talk for the next couple of days. I locked myself in my room, almost bed ridden, crying myself to sleep. I had no Noche Buena. I didn’t greet anyone ‘Merry Christmas’ or ‘Happy Holidays’. I immersed myself in my sorrow and it welled up pretty overwhelming. As I’ve told you, I felt dead.
Christmas day, I was asleep ’til 1pm… or at least I was pretending. I ignored the world outside. That is until my mom came up to my room and convinced me to get up. She apologized, I apologized and we made up. And I ran after Christmas. After all, it wasn’t too late.
But it is pretty late now. Clock reads 3:50am. I must have missed blogging too much that I wrote yet another chapter in my novel.
Happy Holiday everyone! v(^_^)v
And so, Day 1 of the Alumni Homecoming ended with such a sweet mark into it with the alumni (and the students) singing a heartfelt rendition of our ‘UP Naming Mahal’. I was surprised I still know the lyrics… =)
The weather in Baguio was a bit unpredictable… Just as I was complaining that it wasn’t that cold, I would eat my words two minutes later, while rubbing my hands like a maniac because I was almost freezing to death. I’m not used to the cold weather anymore *sigh*
We stayed until past midnight at the campus.. until the doors of Bulwagang Juan Luna closed. The experience was something really great that the mere fact that we spent the entire day (16 hours!!!) inside the campus was overwhelming.
The day started around 10am as we went back to UP to just hang around while selling Tiki’s stuff. But we didn’t stay long as there’s nothing much to do around the campus. Although we were secretly hoping that they would really serve something yummy for the ‘Pond Lunch Picnic’ which didn’t push through anyway.
Highlights probably would be the trip to the new SC office and buying that cool souvenir jacket, a chat with Manang Mane while indulging on her ‘mangga with bagoong’ (her story’s sad… I hope the UP Baguio students would continue fighting for her welfare), and.. sorry for this.. spying on my “crush” whom up to now, I don’t have a clue of whatever his name is… grrr..
The homecoming celebration was soon over… we had to leave for lunch since the picnic didn’t push through. It was sad leaving the campus ‘coz I know it would take a while before I’ll have the chance to come back. In my mind, I was blowing a goodbye kiss to my school and I am giving it a tight embrace. Just thinking about it now makes me miss it even more.
We, or at least I pigged out at the ‘Bahay na Sawali’ in SM. I would definitely recommend that place… food is great and the customer service is excellent. Then, we had to go for a break to run separate errands and just meet for the ‘farewell’ (?) dinner at Kat & Jang’s place. Of course, my Baguio trip wouldn’t be complete without visiting Kaffee Klatsch so we spent the last few remaining hours of the night there while harassing the beatboxer of the performing band that night… hehe… kidding.
And then, it was Sunday… I had to leave… again… I didn’t want to leave… if that was even an option. But I know I’ll be back…in a few months, years… who knows. All I know is that this was one experience I would forever remember… until that time when we look back at today as “once upon our UP Days.”
Since I came back last August from my trip to the highlands up north, I could not help but count the days until that day when I will be reunited with my dear old Alma Mater – the “hills that have been my home” during my college years, and of course, with my dearest friends whom without, my memories would just be a big black void.
Last Thursday, I cut my working hours short to catch the 1:15 coach that would take me to Baguio for this long-awaited moment. The bus ride was something between a torture and a craddle of peace as I rummaged through my thoughts for those memorable years which sadly, seem too elusive for my dingy memory. Torture because I just couldn’t wait… I was staring out the window half the time, anticipating to witness the transformation of the lowlands to the majestic and overwhelming mountain ranges that signal that, alas, I was there. So near. So close to home.
Now, that was something that surprised me. I never considered Baguio my home or at least I never pictured myself living mi vida in this place. It’s too nice, too unreal for me since I am used to the chaos called Manila. But after this trip, I found myself pondering upon a very different perspective. I thought, I could belong here. Somehow, I think I could.
It was past seven in the evening already when the bus stopped at the PNR station. Without any pauses, I grabbed a cab and headed straight to Don Henricos in Session Road to meet my friends (Tiki, Kat and Jang – the last two are my Baguio poster parents… hehe.. and I haven’t seen or talked to Tiki in ages!) for dinner. It was amazing how hearts were poured out and how words overflowed almost as if we never parted ways and half a decade of zero communication was put aside between Pizzas, fries and tap water.
Despite the fact that only very few showed up in our batch, the atmosphere was too festive; it didn’t provide any room for mopping and complaining. After all, a lot of alumni came – mostly oldies whose student IDs go as far back as 1960-somethings. There was this group of men (batch 70s, i think) who came in pack, complete with ‘uniforms’ proudly displaying the insignia of their Fraternity. Something like that really makes me all excited. Me and my batchmates were saying in ten years, we should plan something like that – going in full force complete with matching jackets or shirts or some stunning clothing piece.
The rest of the first day was spent eating, selling Tiki’s merchandise, roaming around the campus, taking lots and I mean LOTS of pictures, spying on alumni eye-candies and (at least for me) fighting off the urge to hit someone (i wouldn’t tell) Me and my friends decided to stay and ditch the Torch Parade. But the hilarious part was that Kat and I ditched ‘Oblation Run’ for a quick fangirl moment with Jericho Rosales who was singing his heart out in a mini concert in a make-shift stage beside the Convention Center. Tsk…
The program continued on until a little after midnight with singing, dancing, monologues, a skit with the Kidlat Tahimik, spying on our favorite professors and lotsa jumping due to the very very cold weather.
As we sang ‘UP Naming Mahal’ which signaled the end of Day 1 of the ‘Alumni Homecoming’, with that chilly breeze seeming to hum along with us, I realized how much I truly love my school and how thankful I am that I did not push through with my plan to transfer to Diliman during my Junior year.
More stories on my next entry. I am insanely sleepy right now and my left foot injury is not making it any better…
I was still feeling bad about work and as I was typing this, I thought of that one ‘quote’ I read from a bookmark in Bibliarch which I vowed would be my mantra now and forever. It goes something like:
MAY THE FLEAS OF A THOUSAND CAMELS INFEST THE CROTCH OF THE PERSON WHO SCREWS UP MY/YOUR DAY AND MAY THEIR ARMS BE TOO SHORT TO SCRATCH THEM. AMEN.
Haha. Sounds like a prayer to me. I can’t help but smile when I think about it. So, whenever I feel bad about someone or I am just plain irritated, I muter this silent ‘prayer’ and I can’t stop laughing afterwards. Bad, I know. But hey, just a little something to lift these dark clouds and silence the roaring thunder inside my head.
The “long” weekend did nothing great for me. My Lord Voldemort-personified of a… ermmm.. how do you call it… errr… boss (?) haunted me on my supposedly worry-free rest day/s. I received an email which was a cross between a ‘nag’ and a ‘i’m-concern-so-go-move-your-ass-for-your-sake’ litany from the dark lord and I must say, it didn’t do me any good. Dang, I was petrified! Does he really expect me to do some magic? =/
I’m happy though that in-between my sanity lapses, I’m still able to think and act like a person. (I think… I am still here, writing a supposedly candid and innocuous blog). I still laugh when I need to and I can just shrug and flare my nostrils when the situation turns ugly.What makes me sad though is that, when you feel like really talking, you turn around and you can’t find no one. So, there, keep your thoughts to yourself and experience the wrath of your delusions.
Again… mantra… mantra…