Justify my love

It feels overwhelming knowing that I have inspired many people to start blogging. The fact that people even bother reading my blog is enough. But that my works encourage people to write too, wow. I am flattered. No, I am floored.

I didn't expect that I would get so much positive feedback. I'm not going to lie by saying I write for the passion and not for the syndication because that would be a half-baked truth. It's true in the sense that I write because it is my passion, but I must admit I also do it because I want to be a renowned writer.

I'm not like most people whose talents have been honed for many years. I'm not like those who grew up doing what they do today. I actually only started writing during the summer before I entered college four years ago. Back then, I was still the raging partyphile blinded by the glare of the strobe lights. I wanted to be like Tim Yap, a local celebutante who wrote articles for the Inquirer, a national paper. I thought it was cool that he partied like a rock star and still wrote great articles. Sort of like a pinoy Carrie Bradshaw.

I only realized that I wanted to be a writer the summer before college. And by then, I already got in UST with a major in Psychology. I do love Psychology, but if people were to ask around what I do, the usual response would be writing. I have been associated with writing that people seem to forget that I am in a different field.

Initially, I thought writing would only be a summer gig with an expiration date. I didn't expect that I would apply for the college paper in UST and end up as one of the top qualifiers. When I transferred to Perpetual, I applied for the university-wide paper and scored the highest in the written exam. What's funny was even before I finished enrolling for the school, I was already an applicant for The Perpetualite.

This is who I am. A writer. I blog. I write in my journal. I write for the school paper. If you were to compare the high school me with no direction and the driven and ambitious me that you see [and maybe know] today, you wouldn't believe it's the same person. I'm not saying that I am a fantastic writer, or even a good one. I'm just saying that I am a writer.

I'm happy that I am sharing my passion. I believe that we are all writers. I mean, most of us know how to write. We all have stories. It may be fascinating, it may not be, but the fact remains that we all have tales to tell. Sometimes it doesn't matter that you're not good in grammar. If the story outweighs the mistakes in structure, you can never go wrong. Everybody has the potential. The best idea would be to start a blog. Don't let your memories sink into oblivion. Tell your story. And don't forget. Link me. Lol!

Like a virgin touched for the very first time

Finally! The first semester is over! No more term papers, professors from hell, assignments and lessons that I will never ever get. Now, I can finally unwind from the stress that is school. There are however, times when I still can't believe it's over. It feels so surreal thinking that I don't have to worry about my academics for the next three weeks. I guess the only thing I need to think about now are my grades. Oddly, this is the first time I've felt this kind of relaxation and detachment from school. I actually feel like a virgin. Touched for the very first time.

Speaking of virgin experiences, lately I'm being plagued by a strong sense of being alone. I feel that the people I know and love are slowly drifting away and moving on to other things. With that, I have made the realization that at the end of the day, you only have yourself. Friends are great support systems, but in the vast reality of the universe, we are all alone. I learned that you can't count on people all the time because they have their own lives to lead. They have their own friends, boyfriends, families and problems.

Last night, I was out with my friends at Molokai to celebrate the end of the semester. I still believe that we are alone but like I said, friends are great support systems. We may have our own lives to lead, but parts of our lives are intertwined to make a meaningful whole. I may be alone but that doesn't mean I'm lonely.

It's finally sem. break! No more term papers, professors from hell, assignments and lessons that I will never ever get! I have three weeks to relax and I intend to maximize every minute of it. On a grander perspective, I realized that we are all alone, but I also realized that there is no point harboring these kinds of feelings. We are alone, but my friends and I, we're alone together.

Asexuality is the new black

In the Philippines, the word bisexual has become a misnomer, commonly referring to gay men who are in the closet regardless of behavior. I think it's really stupid and what's worse, because of its proliferation, the true meaning of bisexuality has been buried beneath identical fashion choices and thick layers of makeup.

I always thought I was gay. I haven't had a girlfriend in years and I thought I would never have one again. I'm not trying to say that I'm going to have one but maybe I would. I think now is the time for me to reveal this little secret. I still get crushes on girls.

Of course I've known this all my life. It suddenly swam back to my consciousness last Thursday when Daday, the helper of the Koreans who live across the street told me that one of the Koreans has a huge crush on me. I usually don't mind when girls like me, thinking it would eventually wear off in the long run. However, on my way to school that day, I was entertaining the notion of having a girlfriend.

The term bisexuality has become so misused that I don't want to associate myself with it. Instead of calling myself bisexual and having both masculine and feminine genders, I would call myself asexual. I like boys. I like girls. Sometimes I like one over the other. Sometimes I like both at the same time. Sometimes I don't like either. The politically correct term would be bisexual leaning on homosexual, but what the hey. When have I been politically correct?

Armed with this idea, I was at Emba last Friday with Kathy and the Fashion Flock. Kathy and I were with bff Arvin last Wednesday to interview him for our thesis on eating disorders and who better to interview than my anorexic bff? After the interview, we agreed to go to Emba on Friday. There was actually a mishap that happened when bff Arvin forgot to put Kathy and me on the VIP list but we just paid the door charge and got in. After getting drunk on vodka tonics and Cuba Libres, I thought that I would be intoxicated enough to try my little social experiment. Unfortunately, I ogled more at the guys than the girls. So much for my supposed asexuality.

On my way home this evening after an exhausting day in Mall of Asia filming a project for Social Psychology, I realized that heterosexuality, bisexuality, homosexuality, and in my case asexuality is one and the same. We like boys, girls, both, and neither. The point is, we like people. I believe in destiny, but I also believe that we make our own destiny. I don't think that our soulmate is pre-ordained and will be brought to us at the right place at the right time. And it doesn't necessarily have to follow the standards we've set. As I've said in my previous entry, we choose our soulmates and work for it and fight for it until you are each other's destinies; regardless of looks, intelligence and ultimately, gender. And that makes us all bisexual. Or in my vocabulary, asexual.

I kissed a girl and I liked it.

After the success of my first week dieting, I am disappointed to say that I didn't do well this week. I only lost 3 lbs., which isn't even half of what I lost last time. I've been drinking a lot so I had to eat to avoid having a gaping hole in my stomach. It was the CAS Week and being an officer, I was busy preparing for the activities for Psych. Day. It was indeed very stressful, so Kathy and I went drinking last Friday to blow off some steam. We went to Central where we were later joined by Jane and newfound drinking buddies from school. Booze was flying everywhere and we both got rat faced on pitchers of Bad Boy and buckets of beer. At the end of the night, I went to Ascend with Kathy, Jane and Lloyd [who we met that night through Teng] where we went dancing and had more drinks.

I didn't drink the following day, but I went to school because of the mass induction. I wanted to skip this and go drinking [Lloyd was asking us to go out], but my waning sense of ethics decided to go overdrive that night and I found myself swearing that I would use my secretarial power to the benefit of the Psych. community. Right. We were supposed to have drinks after at Waki's, but since my induction ran late, we cancelled.

Hanging out with the boys at Central got us invites to Island Cove because Joey's family owns the resort. We were there Wednesday and drank [at 11 in the morning!] before going swimming and having a big lunch by the sea. The night before, Kathy came over and we watched Sex and the City: The Movie while having gin-based drinks.

Friday, I went drinking again with the boys from my class. We're well acquainted, but not good friends because I only met them last semester. During my first semester in Perpetual, most of my classmates were Mass Communication majors so I ended up being friends with them. Until now, I am mistaken to be a Mass Comm. student because of my friends and my lively personality. It was a good idea that the boys invited us so we could bond. After all, we're going to be together until we graduate, so we might as well make the most out of it. We stayed over at Stick's, a former Psych. student who shifted to Nursing. When the drinks ran out and our buzz started to subside, we started playing games to keep ourselves busy. We played suck-and-blow and boy was it a riot. Kalei and I ended up kissing a couple of times and I kissed some boys too. I'm not going to name names, but let's just say I was a happy camper.

The following day, I was to meet Ysa for Psynapse, the annual acquaintance party for UST-Psychology. Eunice was supposed to come too, but she had plans so it was just the two of us. We met in Trinoma and hung out at Starbucks before going to Metrobar. It was pretty awkward because it was Reniel who invited me and bought me my ticket. He introduced me to his friends which was an experience I would never want to repeat because they knew who I was and they all had that knowing and accusing look. I even noticed some of them spying on us and eavesdropping while we talked. That night was sort of my homecoming because I saw my old friends from UST. I'm not going to say I'm popular or I have many friends, but I enrolled in a lot of classes so I pretty much knew most of the people in the Psych. community. Ysa and I had dinner, but since the free drink was a tiny plastic cup of iced tea, I ordered a Mai Tai. We left around 12 and went over a friend's house to have a couple of drinks, but we left after an hour or so to have coffee at Starbucks and bond.

So I didn't lose as much as I did last week, but I don't care. The feeling in knowing that I lost 10 lbs. is enough to make me feel good about myself. I'm still not skinny like Posh, but I am happy in the knowledge that I have friends I could count on no matter what. Through thick or thin, bad hair days and bad fashion choices, we would be great friends. No frills, no pretensions, no concealers. While watching Sex and The City: The Movie, I realized that friends are all you need in this world. With friends like Ysa, bff Arvin, and Kathy, I don't need guys. The series is right. Trends, as well as boyfriends, come and go, but friendship will never go out of style.

A toast then. To having no boyfriends but great girlfriends. Cheers!

If you love me, don't feed me.

Okay, so it's been a while since I last wrote about the sordid details of my pseudofabulous life, and even then, it was at best shitty because all I could talk about was A. Now that I have my closure [not without a fight], I am now ready to move on. I'm still alone, but what the hey. I'd rather be alone than be with an immature prick who can't even fight for what he wants. This is actually the first time I've thought of him ever since he gave me my closure, and this is because I've been preoccupied with something else. My weight.

I used to weigh a whopping 180 lbs. when I was a kid. I became conscious of my weight when I was in high school and I started to take an interest in high fashion. Wanting to be like Gisele Bundchen and Lily Cole sans vagina, I made mad attempts to lose the weight. I didn't do it the safe way, but I didn't care. I believe the end justified the means so I had no qualms against starving myself to fit into a double zero. I memorized the calorie content of the food I ate, and there were even times when I didn't eat at all. It even came to a point that I rationed the water that I drank and I collapsed. I guess you could call me an anorexic, but if that was the price of looking good, I was up for it.

The easiest way that I lost weight was when I had my braces. Before having my braces attached, the dentist advised me to have my molars removed. I had stitches in my mouth for a month and I couldn't eat anything but soup. I was ecstatic because this would mean another way to lose weight. I dropped to 140, which is skinny for my height of 5'11''. Eventually, I had my braces and though I struggled for a while, I learned to eat with having a construction site in my mouth. Slowly, I gained the weight that I lost.

I've tried it all. I starved myself, I went on different diets, I exercised, I went to the gym, I tried diet pills, and I even bought a sauna belt. I've never been satisfied with my weight. I guess I was living up to the anorexia's code of honor: I will never be skinny enough. I'm always on some crazy diet, but I could not stick to it like I did when I was in high school. I always give in when I see food. I like to eat. I love to eat.

Now it's different. I can commit to my diet. I'm still not doing it the safe way, but it's not as risky. I eat, but barely. My daily diet would be whatever is prepared for lunch [without rice], and a pack of crackers or biscuits that I would ration until the end of the day. At night, I would drink a bottle of Nature's Harvest FAB, which tastes really good and has L-Carnitine, fiber, and Vitamin C. I do sit ups and push ups to keep my body toned. Next week, I'm planning to add jogging to my routine.

Some of you may think that my diet is radical. It may be, but I don't want to waste time. I try to push in different kinds of diets to quicken my weight loss. This week alone, I lost 7 lbs. and I'm happy. I realized that eating makes me happy, but it is a temporary high that goes away as soon as I finish. Seeing myself skinny, bones jutting out everywhere and muscles ripping through my skin is a high that food can't compete with.

It's funny how it's the plus-sized people who love to bash skinny folk but whine when they are being judged. People have their own perception of beauty and I think we should respect that. I don't have an eating disorder or a distorted view of my body. I just have my own perception. For me, beauty is stick-thin, and I want to be that. If you love me, don't feed me.

I feel the same, I'm on my way [things have changed for me and that's okay]

Moving on may mean a lot of things. It may mean losing hope and giving up, but it may also mean understanding that things will never work no matter how hard you try.

Liar, liar, Gucci pants on fire [take a bow, this is your curtain call]

Okay. I lied. I said I've moved on, but I really haven't. I did think about the situation and rationalized everything, but I seem to be incapable of internalizing my realizations. I always thought that if I don't talk about or think about A, I could fool myself into thinking that the mess never happened. It was effective, but it was wrong. For a moment, I seem to have forgotten the point of defense mechanisms, one of them being repression. A defense mechanism is just something the ego does to avoid tension. It avoids tension, but it doesn't necessarily get rid of it. Repressing my memories is a way of running away from the pain. It does not make me strong as I mentioned in my previous entry. It makes me weak.

It kills me to know that not only have I lied, I also realized that what I have been doing proves how weak I am. I always thought of myself as strong, but I realized that flushing bad thoughts to the unconscious just shows that I am a coward. Instead of facing my problems head on, I run away from it. I believe that it takes more strength to admit defeat, and now that I have realized my mistake, I am admitting mine.

I said I've moved on, and for a while, I thought I did. But when I think about A, all the memories that I've sent away come flooding back, and it hurts. Repression works. It's tried and tested, and there are days when I don't think about him. But on the rare chance that I do, everything comes back, and it's just as painful. For the first time, I reluctantly entertained the thought that I will never be with him again. It was hard, but I knew that it was highly probable. I used to fervently hold on to what he told me the night we broke up, that now is not the time, but I finally resigned myself to the thought that I might not be able to see him again and hold his hand, kiss him, hear him make nyar nyar and Kokey sounds, and play the silly games that we play.

This morning, I woke up with aching limbs and an aching butt. Yesterday, I went ice skating with my brother in Mall of Asia and it gave me a high I haven't experienced in a long time. Despite the one false move I made while helping my brother up [and ending with my butt on the ice], it was fun. Because I couldn't move, I spent the morning watching Meet the Robinsons on Disney. I liked the movie when I first saw it [I cried], but I didn't expect it would hold new meaning for me. Keep moving forward was the key quote, and I remember liking it while I was drying my tears in the theater. If there was a quote that I should internalize now, it would be that. Keep moving forward. I once said that you shouldn't let your failed relationship ruin everything else, but it also means you shouldn't let it ruin the romantic aspect of your life.

I think it's time to face the truth. I haven't moved on. I still love you, and maybe I forever will. My love for you was pure, honest, and selfless. I have loved you in a way I haven't loved anyone else, but I have to move forward. Lewis in Meet the Robinsons was given the chance to go back in time and see his mother the night she gave him up for adoption. He had the opportunity to change her mind, but he didn't. He was about to tap her shoulder, but he realized that if he did, the future would change and he wouldn't have the Robinsons as his family. Like Lewis, I will not tap your shoulder. As much as it hurts for me to let you go, I know I have to. I too, am going down a downward spiral, and the only way I could break out is by moving on. Don't worry, I'll be fine. Kathy told me that I can never find somebody better if I believe that I have already found the best. I will, no, shall, move forward.

P.S. But on the off chance that you do change your mind, let's give it a shot. I read somewhere that The One is not pre-ordained. You work for it, and you fight for it, until you are each other's destinies. If you feel and want me to be the other half of your circle, I'm here. (after all, I still am in the process of moving forward)

You gotta have faith [or else George Michael will get you]

I believe in the Marquis de Sade when he said that faith is for the weak, the last hope of the hopeless, when all its rational forms have flown out the window and all you have left are metaphysical, often mystical ideals.

I was pretty much surprised that after the train wreck that happened, I came out unscathed. I half-expected that I would end up like what happened after Q, but on the contrary, I was fine. When Q [who as my friends know is my first love] and I called it quits, everything changed. My grades dropped like the Little Boy over Hiroshima, my usual enthusiasm for life dwindled away, and get this, I even contemplated suicide. How pathetic was that? Aware of an impending and twice as horrible a wreck, I was worried because it was a couple of weeks away from the prelims and I was scared of failing the exams. It may surprise you, but I put a high value on my education. I may appear lax, but when it comes to my grades, it's no laughing matter. How the hell am I supposed to buy dirty martinis without a high-paying job somewhere in the south of France?

Turns out, I did well. I did have a hard time in my Social Psychology exam, but I'm sure I could somehow scrape a passing grade. I wasn't able to get all my results, but I am proud to say that I got a 92% in my Statistics [scoring the second highest - grr, Laura], and a 96% in my Theories of Personality, scoring the highest in my class. Needless to say, I went home straightaway to brag to my mom that my brother isn't the only smart one in the family.

In spite of my academic success, I must say I am lonely. Living in singelity [sic] takes a lot of getting used to, and I do miss the company, the adoration, and the non-judgemental ears that go with the boyfriend package. Don't get me wrong, I'm over A, but he's still on my mind, occupying a cramped space between my Occulomotor and Facial Nerve. I'm just saying, letting go of a good habit and being single just takes getting used to.

I decided to accept my fate as a single man when Jane, a very good friend of mine said that sometimes the heart quits, not because it loses hope but because it wants to live an uncomplicated life. And then I thought to myself, I do want that. An uncomplicated life. These past few days, I've made desperate attempts to resuscitate my dying love life but obviously it was a sad and embarrassing endeavor not worth talking about. I finally smelled the desperation, and it wasn't Dolce and Gabbana. After Jane imparted those wise words, I decided to live by it. I am not however, going to give up on love. I believe in the ancient Greek saying that we are born half a circle and we spend the rest of our lives looking for our other half. What I need to do is give my fragile heart a rest and focus my attention on something else. When I do break my vow of celibacy, I want it to be worth it.

I was just glad I had great friends I could always depend on. I was happy that after a year, my UST friends and I would be together again, maybe for the last time because Kay would be leaving for Canada next week. It took a year before the grand reunion as Eunice finally got knocked up and gave birth a couple of weeks ago. We were slated to go out yesterday, but Ysa, Eunice and I had a hard time contacting Kay and sadly, we had to cancel. I ended up going to Alabang with the folks to have dinner and watch the new Batman flick.

While the kids were playing in Timezone, I went to Powerbooks to browse their latest books. The buzz was still about Stephanie Meyer's Twilight series so I picked up a book of quotes [Beauty Parlor Wisdom] and read it. I didn't really expect to pick up nuggets of wisdom, but there was this particular quote that I liked: the darker you go, the brighter the light. It is true that when you've hit rock bottom, the only way to go is up.

And then I realized, I didn't really believe in the Marquis de Sade. Yes, he has made very good points about great sex, but his quote about faith did not strike me as accurate anymore. Faith is not for the weak. It is for the strong. Holding on to something you are not sure will pull you through takes an enormous amount of strength and courage. I may not be the bravest Brady in the bunch, but I do have faith. Faith in myself that I can do it. Faith that despite the many miles that stand between us, we will forever be friends. Faith that I would one day meet someone who would be sure that I was the one, sweep me off my feet and take my breath away until I asphyxiate and die.

Follow the royal road to the unconscious [it has yellow bricks too]

Repression by far is my favorite defense mechanism. Though the one I usually practice is displacement, I recently discovered that you can wilfully raise your defense walls with Sigmund Freud's concepts. I always thought this happens automatically, but I was surprised I managed to send bittersweet memories down the royal road of the unconscious.

I learned from someone that if you don't talk about a thing or think about it, it might as well have not existed in the first place. I forgot the name of the concept but this idea is quite similar to an ancient chinese riddle: If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?

If I don't talk about what happened or think about it, maybe I can deceive myself into thinking that it never happened. Of course, distant echoes from another time still creep in my head, but I flush these thoughts away and focus my thoughts and my energy into something else. It actually works. I must admit, I still am sad, but I don't really know why. Eventually, through repression, I let go of all my angst, and emerged with what Alfred Adler would call a healthy personality. Now, I can think about things related to what recently happened without bursting into histrionic tears [I'm exaggerating to prove a point]. This I guess is the Freudian definition of moving on.

The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People author Stephen Covey states that unexpressed feelings never die. They are buried alive and come back later in uglier ways. But so what? I'd rather have it ugly and happy than pretty and sad.

The death row pardon two minutes too late.

It's funny how the person who promises you forever leaves before eternity even starts.

Funnier, I fell for it.

Analyze this, Sigmund Freud.

Just for the sake of being vague, allow me to say this: I miss my heartbeat for you.

Lately, I'm being bothered by a new set of emotions. Actually, I wouldn't call it an emotion because it's more of a state - but it's the accompanying emotions of this state that's bothering me.

I believe in the theory that we as a people grow through conflict. Serious or otherwise, every individual goes through some sort of problem each day. Oddly, I don't have any. Every aspect of my life is running smoothly. I have stellar grades, I recently got hold of two important positions in two separate councils in my school, I have great relations with my colleagues, professors, and friends, and to top it off - I have a kicking love life. And that's what's bothering me. Everything is going well. Too well.

I believe that it is conflict that makes our life interesting. Exciting. It makes for a silly anectode, a great story, a fabulous ice-breaker, and a reason to get together on a weeknight to drink with supportive friends. We learn through conflict. We grow through conflict. I fear that if my life stays this way, I would remain stagnant - rotting in my wonderland existence of WASPy persuasion.

My guy, who we will refer to as A, says that this is normal. It is, in fact, what we should feel. Have I reached a tensionless state that can only be achieved through hypnosis? Analyze that, Mr. Freud. Freud would probably say that I've let go of my oral fixation, or resolved my birth trauma, but I guess you could sum up what I'm going through as a clean conscience.

This feeling is weird. The feeling of not worrying about anything is totally new to me. But I like it.

Machiavelli, please.

I never thought of myself as a politician, but here I am, class president and Psychological Society secretary. I was nominated to be the College of Arts and Science secretary, but I declined the nomination and stayed at the Psych. Soc. student council.

Initially, I had doubts about the whole thing. But after using my cunning to keep the two positions, I knew I was ready.

All I hear is ay ya ya ya ya.

I've been in school for over a week, and well - I'm stressed. I didn't expect that I'll be all over the place because I always thought of myself as lax when it comes to my studies. I do really well in school, but I'm not the type of person who puts so much effort into it. My trick is to make the most out of class so I wouldn't see the need to pull an all-nighter before an exam. Believe it or not, but I only spend an average of five minutes studying. I don't really study, I just scan through my notes and refresh my memory.

I thought I would survive this semester doing what I do. I think I could, but it's going to be much harder. It's Wednesday, and I have a quiz tomorrow and an assignment I need to submit, and on Friday, I have three quizzes and two assignments! It's enough to drive anyone crazy, and as a matter of fact, I'm already doubting my sanity as it is. I wouldn't be surprised if my brother finds me in the closet chewing my foot off.

Miles away.

Last Wednesday, Reniel and I agreed that he should come over so we could fix things. We've been having problems and we both felt that we should see each other to make up. We did make up, and me and some of my friends ended up having some of the puttanesca he brought.

When he left, I got bothered by what was happening. I knew for a fact that he lived in Valenzuela, but I only realized how far it was that day. He left around six, and he arrived home at nine. Now that's something.

Things didn't help when one of my closest friends moved here to the village. It made me realize how far Reniel is. With Kathy, I can come over any time of the day without planning. It's that convenient. With Reniel, we have to plan everything in advance. To most people, this is nothing, but to me, it matters. It matters a lot.

Reniel called it geographic desirability. I call it practicality. It's not easy dating someone who lives three, four, or even five cities away. It's not. It would be easier if we went to the same school, but no. That's not the case. I know distance shouldn't matter when it's in the context of love, but it's one of the things that are important to me. I'm to blame of course, because I shouldn't have gone out with him in the first place knowing he lives across the universe.

I ended things with him this morning. He said that I didn't make any sense. Maybe he's right.

I swear, I won't bite your head off.

There's probably a reason why most [if not all] your past relationships didn't work. It's probably because they were unconsciously preparing you for this. For the relationship that you know will last forever.

Now, I'm not saying I'm in love. I've caused quite a stir with my previous entry and I would like to clear it by saying that no, I am not in love. I just made a few realizations.

I learned. I realized that the worst boyfriends are the best teachers because they teach you not to make the same mistake twice [oftentimes thrice for those extremely hardheaded people like myself]. Not only do they teach you to avoid men like them, they also teach you to grow and become a better person.

I love my shitty ex-boyfriends. Those that sucked my dignity, my pride, and my sanity deserve my gratitude because if not for them, this wouldn't be right. This wouldn't work. It came with a price which come to think of it, was worth it. I wouldn't have become the fine upstanding man that I am today without the help of boyfriends from hell. And besides, most bad boyfriends give great sex. A person can't be all bad, right?

So maybe they weren't that bad.

Rejecting the fountain of youth for just one day and chasing it right after.

Yesterday was Reniel's birthday so we went out and had breakfast in Mall Of Asia. So while we were enjoying our low-fat cheesecakes in Cheesecake Cafe, a thought suddenly crossed my mind.

Why do people like celebrating birthdays, often throwing extravagant parties, and ending up complaining about getting older? It just doesn't follow.

I, on the other hand, do not regret throwing party upon party when I'm one year older. And I am not ashamed to say I'm already 12. Okay, fine. 19. Yes, I'm 19.

When being too smart becomes bad.

I think people are too smart. We should be simple, like dogs. Even if you leave them by themselves in the living room all night, the next day, they'll still jump up and down and lick your face when they see you. That's unconditional love. We could learn a lot from dogs. No, that's not stupidity on their part.

We're just too smart for our own good.

I'll give you the best blowjob you'll ever have.

I'm currently learning how to mix drinks. Like what I said in my latest tag entry [http://madonnarrific.multiply.com/journal/item/210], what better way to bond with friends than home made margaritas and cheap hors d'oeuvres at 4 in the morning. Never mind the Boy Bawang and the Chippy, as long as you're sipping 200 peso drinks, you know you can never go wrong.

I've downloaded recipes and tried to learn as much as I could about mixing drinks, and I'm excited. I'm planning to buy bottles of tequila and vodka next week so I could start. I'm starting with margaritas, tequila sunrises, cosmopolitans, blowjobs, and sex on the beach.

I won't charge my friends of course. Loved ones can get the drinks on the house. So come, let's drink :] I'll give you the best blowjob you'll ever have.

Distant echoes from another time start to creep in my head

I feel pretty Hollywood-ish when I say R and I separated because of irreconcilable differences. I know I'm living in the Philippines and not in Hollywoodland, but no matter how you look at it, R and I really did separate because of irreconcilable differences.

A lot of people were surprised when news broke out that we were over. In fact, I was surprised too. Yes, it is true that this is not our first time to call it quits, but we usually got back together the following day, if not after a few hours. But this is different. This is for real. Like I said, we separated because we couldn't reconcile. Come to think of it, I never fully understood the term irreconcilable until now.

I wouldn't want to get into the sordid details because I do not want people to think less of R. Yes, he may be selfish at times, but all in all, he's a good person. I must admit I didn't give him the credit he deserved.

To a certain extent, yes, he was right when he said I was demanding. And I am sorry for that. No, you needn't apologize to even the score because it's my mistake. I shouldn't have expected so much. Maybe I shouldn't have expected anything from you at all.

I close my eyes and will mortality to surround me.

Sometimes I wonder: why am I still alive? I believe mortality is everywhere and yet it's weird I'm still here, living, breathing, and committing the same mistakes over and over again.

From a spiritual perspective, I believe I am still alive because I have a purpose. I have a mission to fulfill, and I haven't carried it out yet. But what is that purpose? Why am I still here?

I'm tired. I'm tired of living. Haven't I suffered enough? Haven't I played the role of emotional plaything one too many times? I'm tired of hoping, of waiting, of expecting, and ending up disappointed. I'm tired. I'm tired. I'm tired.

In the room I am staying at now [my mom's], there are at least 12 things here that could kill me. One of those things should just smite me. One of those 12++ things should smite me and beat my worthless body to a bloody and unrecognizable pulp. If some supernatural force won't lift the lamp and slam it down my head, maybe I should just do it myself.

Goodbye is the worst word in the world.

Let the earth open up and swallow me whole because I want to die. I can't believe how unfair some people can be, letting simple things stand in the way of something great.

Everything is Bigger in Hong Kong.

Everything is bigger in Hong Kong. The malls are bigger, the food is bigger, even the cocks are bigger [don't ask]. Going to one of the premiere shopping places in the world is a dream come true and something I took full advantage of once I stepped on Hong Kong soil.

April 23: Leaving On a Jetplane


The flight wasn't until 7PM so I still had time to go to school to say goodbye to my friends and meet R. We went to Alabang to have lunch, then I went home so my family and I could go to the airport. The flight was only 45 minutes, but since it was already late, we settled in at Tito Michael's [a family friend] condominium in Tung Chung. It was on the 60th floor, overlooking the sea and the airport and needless to say, it was fabulous.

April 24: Hong Kong Disneyland: Here You Leave Today and Enter The World Of Yesterday, Tomorrow, and Fantasy













For more photos of my trip to Disneyland, Click Here!
Woke up early to go to Disneyland and I realized that Hong Kong is freezing cold. I didn't bring a jacket so I whipped out my 12-foot shopping list and wrote fur coat after 6-inch Manolo Blahnik heels.

Our mode of transport throughout our stay is the MTR [Mass Transit Railway]. Unlike the MRT and LRT here in the Philippines, this goes around the entire Hong Kong. Disney had its own line, so when we got down the Sunny Bay station, there was another train that brought us to Disneyland. The train was fantastic. And personalized.

I had a hard time enjoying Disneyland not only because it was big, but because there were so many fabulous things happening. Also, there were so many hot Hongkongese men [please take note that Honkie is very racial] prancing everywhere that I felt I broke my neck that day.

Walked around the entire park, watched both the theater performances [The Royal Philharmagic Orchestra's performance of the Golden Mickeys and The Festival Of The Lion King], took lots of pictures, rode almost all the rides, watched the High School Musical Live! performance and met and greeted Disney characters.

Went home late via the train. Riding the MTR was an experience because it was not uncommon to see men with Marc Jacobs glasses and girls with Gucci purses. You pay the fare with your Octopus card which is like an ATM. With it, you can pay the fare and your purchases in the grocery and 7-11.

April 25: Shopping and Not So Shopping: Not a Good Combination When You're In Hong Kong








For more photos of me shopping and not so shopping, Click Here!
Checked in at Novotel, a fabulous hotel connected to Citygate, a mall that houses Vivienne Tam, Burberry, Calvin Klein, Jill Stuart and Ralph Lauren. The mall is a five minute walk from La Rossa Condominium, where Tito Michael and his family live. I'm already missing the people in the Philippines, which is why I was happy that R has finally arrived in Hong Kong. Sadly, I forgot to activate my roaming so we couldn't contact each other.

Everybody knows that Hong Kong is shopping paradise. If Japan is known for its electronics and France for its fashion, Hong Kong definitely takes the Balenciaga bag for world-class bargain shopping.

It comes to no surprise then that on our second day, we went around Hong Kong and shopped like crazy. From Causeway Bay [think Times Square, Crawford Lane, Sogo, Windsor House, IKEA] to Mong Kok [and everything in between], I salivated over the fabulous finds that are not only easy on the pocket but great on quality.

If you look at certain photos carefully, you'd find it surprising that the prolific Mong Kok night market looks very similar to our very own Baclaran market. The only difference is, you wouldn't find redheads and blondes haggling like their lives depended on it.

I got into a fight with a saleslady while I was trying to buy a pair of boots. The pair that was on display was a 43 and it didn't fit. She was forcing us to buy it, claiming it fit, but my mom kept pressing her to get a 44. She was probably just lazy to get it from God knows where. When we finally convinced her, the 44 still didn't fit, and she was forcing us to get that pair. We asked for the next size but she got upset, claiming it fit. My mom decided to leave and the vendor threw a hissy fit, pushing me out of the stall. Of course I got pissed. Who was she to push me? I pointed at her and yelled at her not to fucking touch me. She yelled back in gibberish and my mom told her to shut up. I told her she was a bitch and she went crazy and yadi yadi yada. We left while she was screaming her head off. At the end of the day, I got a bag, two dress shirts, a jacket, Bvlgari cologne, and three shoelaces. It was sad I didn't get the boots, but what the hey.

You might also notice that a substantial amount of the photos in my Multiply are of designer boutiques and their windows. Hence, the not so shopping phrase in the title of this sub-entry. I just felt like taking pictures of their windows for the sake of posterity and to say: yeah, i've been there. Have you? Do forgive me that most of the designer pictures are blurry because I took them while I was walking. I was too embarrassed to stop and take the picture because I looked foreign enough, and I didn't want to prove that I was a tourist by whipping out my camera every 5 seconds and talking loudly in my native language.

When we got home, we walked a good half hour to the nearest 7-11 [convenience store my ass] and bought chips to eat in the hotel.

April 26: Have A Break, Have Quiksilver






For more photos of me lounging around at home, Click Here!
After an exhausting day in Disneyland and Mong Kok, I felt it was appropriate that I take a day off from everything Hong Kong. So while my mom and Tita Rose [Tito Michael's wife] went to Tsim Sha Tsui to shop, my brother and I stayed at home with Derrick and Shaine [the kids]. While Yuji and Derrick played their console games [PS2 and Wii], Shaine and I spent the day playing Monopoly, Chinese style [we bought places like Beijing and Shanghai]. We were later joined by the boys. When our moms got back, we went to Citygate to walk around. I bought flip flops from Quiksilver.

April 27: Mother's Day: H&M and Sham Shui Po Style







For more photos of me in H&M and Sham Shui Po, Click Here!
I got back on the Hong Kong track on the 4th day, but we didn't do much. We had lunch with the Tin's at Essence, Novotel's restaurant, then walked around Citygate. Bought a shirt in Calvin Klein and a dress shirt in Armani. The kids went back to the condominium and my mom and I went back to Mong Kok. Bought shoes in Adidas.

We then went to H&M where she bought a couple of stuff and Sham Shui Po so she could buy dresses. It was Mother's Day, all right. H&M style. Fashionistas around the world would be proud. I wanted to buy glasses from H&M but I was embarrassed to ask my mom after buying me designer stuff. It was too bad because the price range of the glasses were the same as the ones in People Are People.

April 28: Finding Nemo














For more photos of me in Ngong Ping and Ocean Park, Click Here!
On our last day in Hong Kong, my mom, Yuji, and I rode the Ngong Ping Cable Car 360. I rode my fair share of cable cars, but this one takes the cake. It was terrifying because you could clearly see how high you are, and yeah. It was pretty high. There is even one photo where I look like I'm thrilled, but my hands were tightly gripping the sides. We rode to Ngong Ping Village, a peaceful little village in the mountains. I was not amused because there were not many guys there. Actually, there weren't any guys. Oh, joy.

We went back to Citygate and bought some stuff from Esprit. I loved the shirt I got but the one I wanted to get was the clerk, who fortunately, I was able to take pictures of while he was ringing up purchases. After paying for our clothes [we were assisted by someone else], we went to Ocean Park.

I enjoyed the exhibits even if a lot of them were scary [the stingrays, the sharks, the jellyfish, the frogs]. I liked the dolphin show, but I sort of felt bad because I felt the dolphins rights were being violated. Imagine having to perform to get food. However, I realized that they get fed whether they perform or not. And honestly, I was more interested in feeding the guys in tights.

I love Hong Kong. The shopping, the lifestyle, the economy, and of course, the men. I know I should be ending this entry by saying no matter how much I enjoyed Hong Kong, I would still remain loyal to the Philippines. I do love the Philippines, and I am proud to say I am half-suman, but I would rather live in Hong Kong. You might say, how about your life here? What about your friends? While on the plane ride home, I was already thinking of ways how I could stuff all my belongings and my friends into one Chanel suitcase to bring to Hong Kong and of course, live happily ever after.

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.

I went to Marbles with my school friends last Saturday to watch our friends gig and at the same time, have drinks and catch up after not seeing each other since class ended. It was just me and Bob who took summer classes, so we pretty much missed each other.

The highlight of that night besides all of us scraping cash from our near-empty wallets after confidently ordering tons of drinks was when G announced she was getting married. I wasn't allowed to post her name because it was going to be a secret affair. After our shock [it was more like heart-wrenching terror] subsided, we finally gave her our blessings. It actually took us 30 minutes before we could hug and congratulate her because we had to shoo our shock out of our systems before we could talk coherently. We even tried changing her mind because it was very sudden. They've only been together a couple of weeks, and they're planning to tie the knot next week on their first month together! Though I was happy for her, changing her mind made me feel funny. Finding out she was getting married forced me to realize that I will never have that privilege.

Getting married has always been one of my dreams. Tying the knot with the man I love in a big church is probably one of my biggest fantasies. I always imagined myself married, living together in a humble flat somewhere in Rockwell with a daughter who has a penchant for high heels and mink coats. Sadly, certain circumstances prevent me from wearing a futuristic ball gown by John Galliano and shoes from Christian Loboutin. Not that being male prevents me from strutting like one of Betsey Johnson's models. My body is just not built to wear a backless dress.

Kidding aside, it just makes me sad. Frankly, I got a little jealous when G was telling me about her plans. For me, marriage is the clincher to a fairy tale. I know I'm pretty young to even think about it, but I already want to settle down. Bff Arvin even told me that I am the only person he knows who is excited about getting married. Come to think of it, it's true. Most 19 year olds are still afraid of commitment, much more having a baby or a 24-carat diamond ring tying them down. I'd like to believe that I've already experienced everything I'm supposed to experience before getting tired of this cat-and-mouse game. And I am tired. I also believe that a guy asking me to marry him is the biggest sign of security. That I would be loved and taken care of forever. It doesn't necessarily have to end that way because I'm realistic enough to know that the chances of that happening is one in a million.

On my way home, I was still thinking about marriage. Not G's, but mine. Yes, I will never have the privilege of getting married [not in this country, anyway], but then I thought to myself, I don't need to have a ceremony to prove my love for someone. Having a priest legally announce us man and husband won't make our relationship better. Just because we're not married doesn't mean our love won't be as real. Thinking about it, the ceremony is just a formality. I don't need to wear a Galliano couture masterpiece to live happily ever after.

Though it would help. Owning a John Galliano piece would definitely make me happy. Deliriously happy. Having those Loboutin shoes wouldn't hurt either.

Where would you like me to put your high-brow? Up your ass or in your face?

I had to run errands today so I asked Bob and Kathy to accompany me to Alabang. One of the errands was to go to Powerbooks and renew my powercard, and at the same time, I had to see which books I was going to get in their VIP sale next week. I wanted to make a list of the books so that when the sale comes, all I need to do is ask them to get it for me and I can pay right away.

While writing the titles down, a thought struck me. I remember a thread I started on an online dating site where booklovers could get together to talk about their favorite books. I was hoping that gay people could meet as a group not to have an orgy but to discuss different authors and their works. It became a hit [I guess a lot of gay men were tired of the usual wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am], but I remember getting upset at the first person who posted. I don't remember who he was, but he made a snide remark about how he hoped it would be a real book club where they could talk about high-brow literature.

I don't remember how he phrased his statement, but it was just as clear. He doesn't like pop lit because he thinks it's trash. Actually, the thread got stellar ratings because of what he posted, and everybody ganged up on him and he never posted again. Currently, the thread is running without me [I had a lot of things on my plate that I neglected the thread altogether] and it's very successful.

Oddly, there are a lot of people who think that pop lit is trash. I swear, somebody even agreed with the asshole and called it pedestrian. Which is really weird because literature is literature. It's one and the same. What differs is that it's either well-written, or badly written. And I believe that just because a book is badly written doesn't mean it's not worth reading. Unlike badly written books, I don't know why those people call pop lit trash. I mean, it's popular because it's good, right? And come on, it's popular for a reason.

I don't understand why some people think they're better than others because they read Leo Tolstoy. I have no clue why they lambast those people who read Coelho's or Rowling's books. Maybe they think they're all that because they could get through half of Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time. To tell you the truth, I know a lot of people who read classics so people would think they're intellectuals. I also know that they're nothing but pretentious S.O.B.s. I'm not saying that everyone who reads Hawkings works is pretentious. They're not. I'm just pointing out those who think they're better because they read "high-brow" lit. I bet even before Anna Karenina became a classic, it was considered pop lit as well.

Who cares if you don't read Virginia Woolf or Umberto Eco? Let them eat cake. To quote my world lit professor: ano naman ang gagawin mo kung may bagong kotse sila, o may bagong cellphone? Eh kung pangit sila, so? Basta ikaw maganda, okay na yun. [Why should you care if they have a new car or a new cellphone? If they're ugly, so? As long as you're prettier, then it's okay.] Of course I'm not serious about this. I was just injecting humor into an otherwise boring piece. But you get my point, right?

So today, while I was writing down the titles of the books I was going to get, I wasn't afraid to announce to everyone that I was going to get copies of Paulo Coelho's and Bob Ong's books. Why should I care? To each his own.

So if ever you find yourself at the R section looking for Rowling, don't mind those people sniggering because they're reading Ayn Rand. If they look like toads, just flip your pretty locks and go on browsing. If you have enough guts, you can even go up to them and ask where they want you put their high brow. Up their ass or in their face?

Fucker.

I had one of my attacks today. I can't really explain what it is, but it usually happens when I get very frustrated. I actually had one last night too, and it was not pretty. It's one of those times when you feel helpless and you want to do something but you can't, because you don't know what to do. Last night I just cried it off and thankfully, I fell asleep. I had a hard time trying to sleep that I was close to getting valiums from my friends. I was so desperate that I was considering swallowing enough tabs to knock me out till next week. I was in such bad shape that I wanted to kill myself to see how people would react. Maybe then I'd know who really cares.

I hate R. Last Sunday he promised he would go out with me today, so I was pretty happy about it. I have summer classes [2-5 during TTHS], and he wanted to meet me in the morning after he submitted his last paper. I asked if it would be okay if we meet in the morning, and he would wait in a nearby Starbucks during my class and we could hang out again after.

We were on the phone last night, smoothing things out for today, and then he was having seconds thoughts. I got upset when he wanted to reschedule because he's not yet sure what his plans were at night. Get this, he promised he would go out with me Thursday and then he told me we had to reschedule because he still wasn't sure what his plans would be for that night. That's crazy. What made me more upset was when I remembered he told me he bends his schedule for the people he likes, and get this, even his parents have to adjust to his schedule. I got MORE upset because he said he wasn't sure about today because of something his mom planned at the last minute. Now don't get me wrong, I don't mind family affairs, but if he says even his mom adjusts to his schedule, then the fact that he can't go out with me because his mom planned something at the last minute just doesn't follow. It's plain hypocrisy.

I hate him. His classes are already over and still I have to fight for my time. It's so unfair.

You just keep on pushing my love over the borderline.

Everybody loves sales. You get to buy really expensive stuff at slashed prices and you can strut around in it, not telling people you bought it on discount. I'm actually guilty as charged. I once bought a pair of really fabulous shoes for half-price, but when friends asked how much I paid, I told them 3 grand.

Today SM Mall of Asia had a sale and Powerbooks texted me, inviting me to come over and check out their books. So after I changed my schedule for my summer class, I went straight to MOA to see what Powerbooks had.

Everybody loves sales. The problem is, everybody loves it. There were so many people that I was hardly walking in a straight line anymore. I had to zig this way, and then I had to zag that, avoiding the many people and their many shopping bags. Apparently, everyone was going crazy. And not in a good way. I'm talking frothing-in-the-mouth crazy. Sadly, I was one of them.

Even Powerbooks was unusually crowded. When I saw the prices, I didn't wonder. It was absolutely ridiculous. I bought FRONT ROW: ANNA WINTOUR [hardbound, baby!] for only 99 pesos! I was so overjoyed that I reserved copies for my fashion-inclined friends too. I also bought a copy of Marquis de Sade's 120 Days in Sodom. It was still pretty expensive [it was only 20% off], but I've been wanting to get the book so I did.

Happy with my purchases, I went around, wondering what else I could buy. I didn't have much, but I still had the money the japanese gave me, so I ended up buying 2 CDs. I was supposed to get a dress shirt, but they didn't have my size, so it sucked. I was thinking of getting a drink in Coffee Bean, but I assumed it was going to be crowded as well, what with the summer heat and all.

I was tired anyway, and the people were getting on my nerves, so I went home. I was sort of regretting it because it's a Saturday, and instead of going out with my friends, I'm here. Bff Arvin did invite me to have drinks with the fashion flock, as did my guy friends from school, but I want to be with R tonight.

I do want to go out. This morning, before I went to school, I texted Kathy, inviting her to have cocktails with me in Alabang. There's this bar that has a fabulous promo where you get a pitcher of cocktail for only 300 pesos, but she couldn't come because she was with her boyfriend. I got upset when I realized I was going to be alone tonight, because I really need company. Bff Arvin's landline is broken so I couldn't pour my grievances, and I think he's out with the fashion flock.

I think R's out with his friends too. Oh well.

I guess it's just going to be me and Anna tonight. Cheers.

Auditioning for hot guys for my sex video

I've been 19 for 2 months and yet I have accomplished nothing. I'm still not an editor, I haven't published my book, and I'm still wallowing in the dark abyss of obscurity. I think I should make a sex tape. Anyone, anyone? Ha.

Promise me you'd buy my book as soon as it hits bookstores. My carrier story is EAT ME [it's in this blog too, try searching for it]. If you've read it and actually enjoyed it without vomiting, I'm sure you'll like my book. Most of my stories would be on the same wavelength. Twisted realities. Kafkaesque. So please, support me :)

Seriously, I think I need to make a sex tape.

Geisha for rent [my mom played the subtitle]

Tonight my mom threw this dinner party as a farewell get-together for her japanese friend. I kind of got annoyed because my mom told me last minute [she told me like half an hour before they arrived], but I managed to pull a look off within 10 minutes. Luckily, I took a bath already so all I needed to do was change costumes and pile on 10 pounds of hair products.

So there we were, at the table, me, my mom, the japanese, and Santos, my mom's boyfriend. I felt kind of sorry for the japanese because he couldn't speak neither Filipino or English, so my mom took the post of translator. I may be half-sushi, but I hardly spoke japanese [though I could understand part of their conversation], and Santos is chinese.

The japanese and I got to talk about the differences between the Japanese and Filipino culture, but it was really difficult because I had to look at the Japanese while he spoke to me in gibberish, [with a smile plastered on my face, pretending I understood what he was saying], and then I had to look at my mom, who would translate. After that, I had to answer to the Japanese, which my mom would translate after. I felt silly because I had no idea whether to speak in English or in Filipino [I chose English to be polite], because either way, he wouldn't be able to understand what I was saying. I wanted to laugh because the conversation was like a typical Chinese movie. The japanese and I were the characters and my mom was the subtitle. All throughout the meal I was hoping my mom and Santos would leave for a while [a convenient excuse, say for example, a hippo from the Avalon Zoo escaped and ate the car], and then I would say something insensate to the Japanese and see how he would respond. For example:

Koji: Kumekemelar eclavou chenelyn chenelyn de kimberlin chenes. [I would gesticulate with my hands to simulate telling a story]

the japanese: [i have no idea how he would react, but here is my educated guess] hai, hai, sanyo, fujitsu, nintendo, wii [though i guess he would just nod and smile and pretend he got what i meant]

So while I was trying hard not to choke on the gravy, I willed myself not to laugh out loud, and tried to focus on what he was saying. While I was waiting for my mom to begin translating, I thought about how hard it must have been for him, being the only person at the table who couldn't speak the native language. If I were to have dinner with a foreigner friend and his family, I would be paranoid as hell if they started speaking their language, most especially if they laughed.

I was glad when the dinner ended [boy, he took his time eating], because they left right after. Despite my feeling sorry for him [pity is too strong a word], I really like him. He's a great guy. After the meal, he handed me some money. I don't know. He must have thought I was a geisha or something.

It's too late to apologize, yadi yadi yada.

I stayed in Holiday Inn last Sunday and I kind of hoped [more of expected] that R would ask me out since I was nearer to him compared to Las Pinas. Despite my regrettable breakdown last night, I was surprised at how well I handled the situation when he didn't.

I ended up spending the following Monday sunbathing by the pool and getting an uneven tan. While I was making sure every crevice of my body was evenly burned like french toast, I made a conclusion. I know this sounds weird, but I owe a lot to the guys that I dated. Though none of them obviously worked out, I still owe them a lot. I learned a lot from those assholes that broke my heart, and now I know how to react to certain situations.

Now if only I could sunbathe like a pro. I don't think wriggling around like a dying fish is the proper way to tan.

I'm not going to write you a love song because you need one.

I'm going to write you one because I want to.

R and I are okay again. I like him. So sue me. After I posted the highly controversial entry preceding this one, he read it, and we had a huge argument. I got disappointed because I thought he would realize his mistake, but he didn't, so I thought of ending everything. For good. I was considering swallowing my pride and continuing, but I thought that I would just drive myself crazy in the long run. I felt sad that it had to end that way but I stood my ground. To a certain extent, I was right. He was being unreasonable.

The following day, he asked if he could call. I was hesitating because I thought he was just going to lambaste my blog entry, but I was surprised when he apologized. He admitted his mistake and he promised to change. I forgave him in a heartbeat. Talk is cheap, but a sincere apology is worth millions. I accepted his apology not because I like him [though it is a factor], but because it is not easy to own up to your mistakes and admit you're wrong.

So we're okay again. He still hasn't alloted time for me but he promised he would. Baby steps, right? I'd rather have baby steps than no steps at all.

An Ode [and an Elegy] to R; a.k.a. A Quote by Carrie Bradshaw: "I'd Like A Cheeseburger and A Cosmopolitan Please"

Where do you go after getting your heart broken? How do you regain your footing in life and act as if nothing happened, even though you're completely shattered inside? I know I'm getting mushy, but after the horrific mess with R, I just want to blow off some steam. And for me, the best way to blow off steam is to write about it.

I met R a few weeks ago through bff Arvin. I must admit I was intially intimidated by him, but we got to talk, and yeah, I was attracted to him both physically and intellectually. I must say, R is a pretty goodlooking, intelligent and smart man. I know. So my type. I was hit, and I was hit fast. In a way, R reminded me of Quincy, which I liked. Not in the sense that R is a lot like Quincy, but because both are ambitious, driven, and witty.

I first got to meet R three weeks ago in Embassy [he goes to Emba a lot]. That night, I also got to meet bff Arvin's friends from school, and I loved every single one of them. Before that night, R and I were getting pretty close. He texts me a lot [and I mean A LOT], he calls me frequently, and we were slowly getting intimate. That night, we weren't able to talk that much because we ran into each other when the fashion flock [Arvin and the gang; they're taking Fashion Design in CSB] and I were about to leave. Our conversation was short, but it sparked something.

After Emba, bff Arvin and I went to 711 in Taft to pig out on chips and soda. R and I were texting, and he even called me, and you can tell that something different is going on already. During the first few weeks, I was already into him, and it drove me crazy thinking whether or not he was into me too. Yeah, you could argue that he wouldn't spend so much time, and phone credit for that matter, if he didn't like me to a certain extent. But after meeting on that fateful night in Emba, he admitted he liked me too and thus begun our mutual understanding.

He became sweet, and his messages and calls became more frequent. I couldn't say I was in love with him [that would be silly], but I liked him a lot. So naturally, I asked him out so we could get to know more of each other, but he couldn't because he had a shoot to finish for his project. The following week, he was in Zambales, so I didn't see him when I went to Emba with the fashion flock. But we were texting a lot while I was dancing my heart out that night. The following day, I went to Mall Of Asia with my friends to watch our friends gig, and we were still texting.

Last Saturday, I went to Emba, but this time it was just me and Arvin. We did run into Fatz, one of the fashion flock, but it was just the bffs that night. R was also there, and that night served as our first date. He came over our table and joined us for a while, but bff Arvin and I wanted to go to McDonalds for another pig-out session, and R had to return to his friends.

[I just want to segue: Cablits, you do not go to the Fort just to eat cheeseburgers! Kidding! Was great running into you there and then in Alabang the following day :p]

After binging on burgers, fries, nuggets and soda [we each had our own set, I know, it's gross], we returned, giddy with carbs and oil, only to find out that R was high as a kite. He probably got it from his friends, but he was on E and he was a jetplane cruising the night sky of the Fort.

I didn't approve of him taking E because I already did that and it was not good. Yeah, the feeling was fantastic and nothing could compare to a trip to La La Land, but it did have bad effects, and the last time I dropped, I lost my phone. Despite my disapproval, I felt happy because he joined us and spent the rest of the night with us instead of his friends. I was feeling tense because he was standing so close. It was funny [and kilig-worthy] to think that there was so much space where we were standing, yet he was so close to me that we were practically rubbing ourselves against each other. I would have enjoyed the night more, but my feet were killing me because of the tiring day I had before going to Emba. It was our finals exam in Arts App. and we had to make a production. I was in charge of the fashion show and I had to teach the models to walk down the makeshift runway in the school ampitheater. It was not an easy task considering the steps were too big, even for my long legs [I'm tall]. So while trying to make sure my hair was in place and poising myself beside R, I was secretly hoping my legs wouldn't give way.

The following day, I was pretty depressed. R has been working me up, and working me up good. I was ecstatic when he texted me saying he was happy because he was with me, but his night life has been bothering me. I honestly did not mind that he goes out everyday. I did not feel bad that he was out on the town on a daily basis because he texts me, and he calls me a lot. I did not feel jealous or paranoid, because I knew he was with his friends. And besides, to a certain extent, I trust him. What killed me was that he could afford to go out everyday with his friends, but he did not have time to go out with me. Yes, I knew that it was easier to go out with his friends because they were his classmates and they lived near, but would it be hard to spare some time for me too? I talked to him about this, and it broke my heart when he told me I was demanding. Is asking for a night a week, maybe one night every two weeks demanding? I also understood that he was graduating and the pressure is as high as Amy Winehouse's addiction, but come on, he could go out everyday and come home at 2 in the morning. I did not ask him to stop seeing his friends because that is not right. What I was just asking is if he could make some time for me too.

Then he confessed. He told me he had issues with his sexuality which prevented him from going out with guys. I understand his situation that he is in the closet, but how far he is hiding surprises me. He opened up about how his previous dates went: drive-throughs, road trips to Tagaytay, and the best [the worst, rather]: how he would leave the guy if he sees a friend of his in the mall.

It breaks my heart how selfish, paranoid, immature, and egocentric he is. But surprisingly, I did not get angry. I am at that point where I'm so into him that I don't care what he's like. It just broke my heart that I was hearing what I was hearing. What hurt me the most was how unfair he was. He expected me to understand him, yet he refused to understand me. I felt sad because he was not who I expected him to be. I was not turned off. Yes, I was disappointed, but I like him nonetheless. I sent him a message yesterday, while I was dressing up so I could meet Kathy in Alabang.

"I don't like your attitude, but I like you a lot. And because I do, I will accept you for who you are."

But it makes me think. Could I stand this? Could I tolerate this kind of behavior? I like him, but how far would liking him go? He said that he did not have time because of the pressure of his impending graduation and he said it won't be like this for long. But he also said that he's not comfortable being seen in public with a guy. I don't understand him. He does not make any sense. But because I like him so much, I learned to swallow my pride and cover the mouthpiece of the phone while I forced my tears to stop falling. I don't understand, but I'll force myself to.

I like him, but I think I have to end this. He's obviously not ready. But if he can change his ways, great. If not, then [I can't think of any word I could use, sorry].

While having lunch, I wondered: where do you after getting your heart broken? And then I realized, you don't. You just get on with your life. You don't supress your broken heart, because you can't. The least you can do is regain control and not let your failed relationship ruin everything else. I've had my heart broken several times and I've learned my lesson. A bad break-up may lead to good economy, but only if you choose to. Life is a cycle of causes and effects. Everything has a choice.