yesterday afternoon, my friend jesse and i rendezvoused in robinson to meet ann(who’s around for the Sinulog) in ayala. while inside the jeepney, our discussion veered towards how many of our original “lagoon friends” entered the sacred ground of uhrmm…Parenthood. To our surprise, the head count had reach a dozen or so. And mind you, that’s just counting the male side(we haven’t got the chance to count the female friends or concluded that they are espoused to the male on the same circle). and as if too afraid to come up with a rational justification, we receded to a safe conclusion and began to evoke the eternal cliche of “it happens, because it happens” (a slightly off-tangent yet positive take on Murphy’s Law). it’s a stupid and illogical rationalisation, i know, but what better way to make a safe excuse. ahhh, the follies of youth.

walking all the way from ayala to mango opens the floodgate of not-so-distant memories. mostly good, some bad. which happens because it’s supposed to happen. and so the three of us swapped gossips, interests, experiences, murakami, movie quotes, mushy films, mushy soundtracks, baby stories, how-are-yous, and whatnot.

we still laugh at the same old running (inside) jokes, but we now live different lives.

shall i go back? or not. na-ah. multiply is good for now.

baby steps, baby steps.

still haven’t had a good sleep lately. sleeping is a curse like gazing through the open window of despair. i don’t want to wake up soaked on a wet pillow. i’d rather get soaked with extra moolah on my bedside. atleast work is something to look forward lately. this morning my boss asked me to design the company site. i still haven’t gone around to it. still busy dealing with nothing. preoccupied with things i know will lead me nowhere.

sometimes i ask myself, why am i still doing this? why i choose to get drowned in my darkness is beyond me. why am i still hoping when at this point i am soo done moping. and for crissakes, why am i still listening to the smiths? john kusack’s character in high fidelity asks, “did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?“

baby steps, baby steps.

eversince “it” happened, i’ve been waiting for that proverbial flashing “sign” from God or some cosmic diety to wake me up on my deep emotional slumber. but to my disappointment, it never arrived. yesterday, i had an epiphany, a sudden bolt of realization so strong it required me to ponder on it the whole afternoon(well, i was on my trip back to Cebu, so it still counts). i made a silent mental jousting with “reason” and “consequence” and came to a conclusion that perhaps the “no sign” was the “sign” itself manifested. it’s a cosmic pat on the back that says, “hey you’ll be alright without her” or “it’s ok to let go now”. (it’s quite hard to explain and i have no obligation to do so, so go figure.)

that whole feeling of waiting sickens me and “hate” is a very mild world to describe it. i’m sick of being restless and hopeful over something i can never control. when she said, “time to move on now,” i thought she was just being discreet and unraveling discreetness is something i’m not good at. but then again maybe i never got over that “denial” stage and alas! how comforting it is to finally let go.

so that flash of epiphany i had yesterday was something i’ve been waiting for the longest time. that certainly explains a lot now and the view is more clearer from up above.

i just received my full salary, in cash. i’m finally going home after a year or so.

how could it get any better than this?

our salary hasn’t arrived yet. i only got 50 centavos left on my pocket. can’t go home to negros. heck, can’t even go home to my aunt’s house. i have a recurring LBM and i feel so empty.

god, could it get any worse than this?

i need a sign that there is that light at the very end of this tunnel. is that asking too much?

4. Guilt. Emotional manipulators are excellent guilt mongers. They can make you feel guilty for speaking up or not speaking up, for being emotional or not being emotional enough, for giving and caring, or for not giving and caring enough. Any thing is fair game and open to guilt with an emotional manipulator. Emotional manipulators seldom express their needs or desires openly – they get what they want through emotional manipulation. Guilt is not the only form of this but it is a potent one. Most of us are pretty conditioned to do whatever is necessary to reduce our feelings of guilt. Another powerful emotion that is used is sympathy. An emotional manipulator is a great victim. They inspire a profound sense of needing to support, care for and nurture.

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(…or how i spent christmas)

i should get a reward for having the most entries written in a post-xmas day. yeah, for once in my life, i’m being constructive. isn’t that something!?i have simply so much time to kill and so many thoughts to pour. i need some discreet therapy to get moving but whatever.

christmas was spent with my relatives, my aunt’s to be specific. went to mass at around 9PM then had noche buena with my cousins afterwards. had a talk with a ghost from the past(with much begging as if it was a matter of life and death) and a melodrama ensued. after much pleading from my side, she said things can never be healed as it is and what’s done is done. after i put down the phone i remembered a quote from a book i read a long time ago by milan kundera. “ permanently protuber­ant, its inanity irreparable“, at this point i could care less about philosophy and eternal recurrence but i am too horrified at the prospect of redundant failures.

so the promise of flooding beer like a manna from heaven was the buzzword earlier that night by neighbors. but i was too depressed to mingle and instead took a few shots and then went straight to slumberland while the customised boombox was blaring outside.

im hoping next year will be better. happy bday papa jesus.

my colleague said the xmas party last saturday on our office was killer and i missed some fragment of my life because i was at home making a beeline for the sheets. there were beers, food, games, videoke, barhopping, etc.

yeah, story of my life.

he should write my biography.

everyone is enjoying their time off, getting fat and ripe with the season while i’m stuck here at the office with nothing to do but stare at the monitor and listen to songs about cruel girls i could never meet.

currently, my life is too woody allen-esque. i could never think of a better term to describe it. full of grief, longing, restlessness and the whole enchillada, while the side dish is a bowl of black humor. oh well.

a not-so-famous bloke once said, “Sometimes, LOVE is all we need”. sorry, but i must disagree. PAIN is what we really need. I can imagine your eyeballs doing the rollercoaster, but hey, listen to reason for a sec. Pain is what we need to realize our strength. Pain is the big hand of truth that slaps you back into reality…or whatever that is you call home. So, hello pain!