A Letter To My Daughter

December 29, 2010
9:38 PM

My dearest Tori,

I hope I’d indeed have the sense to name you Viktoria, because at this moment I really think that it’s a timeless, regal name. Onl y yours would be spelled with a ‘k’ just to be different from many. My darling daughter it isn’t my intention, of course, that when you introduce yourself to people someday you’d have to go, “My name’s Viktoria… with a ‘k’, not ‘c’.” But humor your Mama.

You’d notice the date on this letter is kind of funny, because it’s probably eight or so years before you were even born (my fingers are crossed!)

I am writing it at the age of 22, and just so you can picture me better, I am in my own room at your grandparents’ house, wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a loose white T-shirt and getting ready for bed after finishing off some potato chips. (Just between the two of us, I am badly craving for spaghetti your grandma cooks so well.) Anyways, I am wearing a headband to keep my shoulder-length hair from blocking my view of the monitor screen. My own laptop is retarded so I borrowed your Aunt Gigi’s, and also (before I forget), I just finished reading Maxwell Igan’s Earth’s Forbidden Secrets. I hope you’d look the book up when you got time, Sweetie. 

One of the reasons I am for writing to you is that I thought of what my New Year’s resolution would be, since apparently, mostly everybody has one. In reality, Tori, I am not a fan of New Year’s resolutions at all. I remembered listing down a few when I was younger but I could not recall if I ever stuck to a single item in my list.  Yes, the start of each year could mean a start of something new, and it could signify a better or an improved you. However I believe that each day of the year is a new beginning if a fresh start is all you want, and that one doesn’t have to wait for the New Year to make changes in their lives.

So I decided to instead write about the most important lessons I learned this year. Lessons that I wanted to impart to you so you understand and appreciate more of life from my lows, challenges, hardships, and tears. This year has been of many beautiful memories, don’t get me wrong. But I think it is also brimming with tales one could gain some insights from. I am hoping, Darling that, while I would want you to make mistakes and learn on your own, you would know that I also want you to learn from the experiences of others. 

Tori, remember that time is running and it does not wait for anyone. I wrote in a journal entry that while we are wishing we could turn it back, we are only simultaneously wasting more of it. I want you to make the most of each day in your life, and live as if you’re dying.  Once you understand the magical paradox of time, Sweetie, you’d learn to value what you have, and realize you’re way more blessed than you ever thought possible. Many times life does not seem to give as it takes. Strive to see the beauty in the things that you have while in pursuit of the things you want.

It is okay to be crazy at some extent. Make funny faces in front of the camera. Waltz in the rain. Sing out loud even you’re off-key it makes you happy. Pig out on chocolates. Laugh at yourself.  Crack corny jokes. Squeal at the sight of rainbows. Watch out for shooting stars. See every day as a miracle or, as Einstein put it, see nothing as a miracle. I’d never want you to forget how to look at the world through the eyes of a child, Tori. An adult’s eye tends to see things in a complicated way when it could be so simple.

Of course, the world could be cruel. People could hurt you, and believe me, they will. Sometimes you’d feel like the world is your burden, and you feel so down and no one understands you. There would be nights you just wanted to be alone in your room, shut off from the world, your teary face buried in your damp pillows. You might feel so cursed and unloved. But nothing lasts forever, remember? So these tears of yours shouldn’t. Isn’t that a comfort now, love? 

And no matter what happens, keep your hope alive. Keep the faith. Tagore wrote, it is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark. Shit happens, but we must move on. There would be times it’s easier to just wallow in misery and self-pity. But no one is perfect. Forgive yourself, Tori, and remember this: even if you committed a mistake so great, you still have the right to be happy. As long as you do not intentionally step on the happiness of others, fight for yours. Do not waste the gift of life.

Do not ever, ever doubt yourself, and never falter in believing in what you can do once your heart is set out to do it. Love yourself, because you cannot love others until you learn to accept yourself for what you are. You are a creature like no other, just be the best you can be. I cannot stress this enough, and probably it’s something learned the hard way, but do not compare yourself with others. It is only depressing. 

There’s a reason why each of us has different circumstances, Sweetie. Everything in this world happens for a reason, and each thing, each choice we make, leads us to our destiny. There is reason why the poor is poor and the rich is rich. Whatever a person’s circumstance is, we should see it as an opportunity to learn, and it should not stop you from achieving your dreams. Chase them because sometimes they just do not wait for you. Sometimes there would be no opportunities, so make them.  

Do not just readily accept all the time what life hands you. Living doesn’t swing that way. As one should be contented enough to be happy, be discontented enough to improve, my darling. Do not be afraid to make mistakes and take risks. Take a leap of faith. Playing is safe is never a way to live. Take it from me.

I am not saying to constantly put your life in danger just for the thrill of it. You are reasonable. I just want to tell you that you have to listen to your heart too. 

And ,ah, about love. I could write a book about it, with probably a hundred chapters to boot! But one of the most valuable (and timeless) lessons I learned regarding it, Tori, is to never alter ‘you’ just for the heck of a guy. If he doesn’t accept you at your worst, he freaking does not deserve you at your best. So it is a great deal to be just you, and don’t rush into a relationship just for the sake of being in one.

I know how each guy could feel like The One. I know the loneliness that could only be quenched with love and intimacy with the opposite sex. But wait for the right person. Wait for that guy who would love you for who you truly are: sinner or saint, flaws and all. You are special and beautiful, and the person deserving of your love would see that. He’s worth the wait. I have written an article titled “Status: Single, Explained” and it would say a great deal of what I am mainly trying to tell you Sweetie. 

Casanova would say: be the flame, not the moth, and I highly recommend that you take this to heart too. Your Mama’s striving to, God knows. Be hard to get, but easy to live with. Haha!

Kidding aside Tori, I don’t want to fill you with empty promises that love doesn’t hurt. I could not even begin to describe how it could be bloody painful. It might take several heartaches to be finally with the person you are destined to spend forever with. Just please, I beg you, don’t stop loving. Keep the courage to endure the pain longer. Because for each one of us, there is something wonderful. True love is just too beautiful to give up on, as I am sure you’d realize someday.

There are just so many things I could tell you right now. To be honest with you, at this very second I just felt the desire to fast-forward the years now so that I could be sitting next to you watching the stars on the balcony of what our home would be. I imagine our giggling to the amusement of your Dad, whoever he could be. It would probably be more fun to talk to you about love and fairy tales face to face, wouldn’t it? And we’d never run out of stories for nights by the campfire. I am looking already forward to our salon sessions together, our trading secrets and playing silly games together. I can’t wait to be your Mama. Only on my end, it would take some time before I’d be blessed with your presence.  

And if after reading this letter you begin to see the world even just in a slightly different light, my goal in writing it is accomplished, Sweetie. I know that I will always be proud of you. And I love you across time.

With kisses and hugs,

Your Mother

Dear Aliens:

I hope this mail finds you guys in good health. What prompted this strange missive is the urgency of my situation here on Earth. I am in such a complicated mental state that I am fervently wishing that somehow my message would come across as I am praying it to be, considering the language barrier that is potentially a..well, barrier.

I NEED TO GET AWAY. FAST. PLEASE KIDNAP ME.

I would greatly appreciate any  immediate action regarding this apparently odd request. I could further explain my circumstances in the near future. I vow to you my wish is justifiable. You will not regret kidnapping me. I will be the most cooperative Earthling in the universe. Please please please...

Respectfully yours,

Loissa

Lamentable Joy

The day did not start right, at least I thought so initially. My alarm clock inconceivably did not ring so I woke up UNBELIEVABLY late, it rained just as I was stepping out of the gate, it took me ages to get into a cab whose driver did not look at me with a weird expression on his face and tell me he needed a bath first that's why he could not take me to the Chinese Embassy in Makati (I know, right). I declared myself hungry (having skipped breakfast) almost simultaneously as I realized the cab I got into has a flag-down more than twice the regular rate. When I got to the 2nd floor of The World Center, I found out that I had to wait for 93 more people to be served before I.

It was up to my emotionally battered heart to convince myself that there's light at the end of the tunnel. I kept telling myself that I wouldn't have to wait forever, that before I knew it, it  would be my turn. I wouldn't have to wait until the afternoon to be accommodated.

As much as it felt anxious to be less than an hour away from finding out if my Visa has been approved, part of me was numb. Maybe having to go to the Chinese Embassy thrice drained me of my energy and the emotional roller coaster ride I have gone through for the past months was taking its toll. I was hopeful, but not expectant. I wanted to be positive, but I prepared myself (emotionally and psychologically) for the worst.

Then it happened. I got my Visa. It was approved. Now I am days away from China.

I couldn't begin to tell you how I felt when I was handed my passport with my Visa stamped on it. I wanted to scream and cry of happiness. I wanted to jump and laugh hard. After EVERYTHING, I finally made it.

But for some reason,  I felt that something is missing. I could not even have a small celebratory dinner with my mom or aunt, or a plate of pizza with my sisters. A trip to PT with my girlfriends would be impossible, given the circumstances. I wanted to be home. I wanted to share the good news with anyone who has been with me all throughout the obstacle courses I have gone through. This might not be a big deal to some, but for me it is. For once, one thing that I hoped for came true.

I am happy, of course. It's just that it makes a difference when you're able to share it with someone.

When It Doesn't Happen On Its Own, MAKE It Happen

I feel like singing (even off-key) Green Day's Boulevard of Broken Dreams. It is my fifth day In Mandaluyong. I can't believe I have survived FIVE excruciatingly idle and boring days here. Well, it's not like I've been thrown into a dormant lion's den. I mean, it's not that bad when you come to think of it. Just consider these circumstances:

a.)  I am even thrilled to roam around here and explore the city. I can read a map if needed and ask around for directions. But in such an unfamiliar territory, I am scared to get LOST (which is POSSIBLE) and abducted (and omg raped!) and have my body parts chopped off and scattered all over Metro Manila SINCE I am going to China. There are bad people everywhere, and I have to take care of myself. Especially now that my dreams are almost within my reach. I may take chances, but I can't put my life to risk. Period.

b.) Yes I may ask Manang Rhoda to take me wherever I want to (Baclaran Church, Quiapo Church, Divisoria, Mall of Asia!!!)  but she has JBLMU Alumni House to look after. My aunt has left me to her care but I understand she has a job to do and she seems to be always busy. Yes, I have Manongs here to keep me company but they do not share my interests. I mean, I do not have the heart to ask them to go shopping with me, or take me to the nearest ice-cream parlor. Many of them have become my friends, it's just that it's undeniable that they have a world of their own.

c.) Rovie is in Quezon City, which apparently is too far. She has a job. She's busy, even too busy to call me again.

d.) JD is in QC as well. It's clear as day he doesn't have time to meet me. I don't even want to elaborate on this.

e.) Karen, Ash, and Bes, under present circumstances, could NOT visit me.

f.) I have only VERY FEW (less than ten OMG) pictures. Not much evidence that I've been to Greenhills, Rustan's, StarMall, etc. There's no proof on MY camera that I've enjoyed the Thai dinner at Soms with Nang Mavi, and I have had shawarma on the streets of Mandaluyong. No pics of the ice creams I consumed, no pics at 7 Eleven. It seems nobody here takes, nor would want to take, any pictures whatsoever. I'd look like a total ditz if I give in to my fervent desire to just fuckin take pics of me everywhere I go! This is really traumatic.

I scribbled on a KFC receipt some journal entry that tells how lonely and alone I'd felt. This trip would have been fun and much more bearable if I were with friends. But I guess I just have to make the best of what I have, of the situation I am presently in.  It's pointless to just wallow  in boredom and stare blankly at the computer like a lunatic. I can surf and read books, but I'd like to do something that I COULDN"T back home in Iloilo, like going to Rustan's.

So I put on my make up and the best outfit ensemble I could come up with, given the scant wardrobe I was able to bring with me, and set out to Rustan's to in an attempt to alleviate the overwhelming boredom that is consuming my soul. Exciting things don't just happen. Sometimes, you have to make opportunities for them.

Nautical Miles To Go Before I Sleep

If only I could squeeze more creative juice from my brain right now, I could have made a poem to outshine Robert Frost's Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. I doubt Frost wrote that when every cubic centimeter of his body was sore and he was not able to get much sleep for the past week. His heart wasn't beating erratically such that he was expecting a heart attack anytime. Yet he literally AND figuratively had miles to go before he sleeps.


I have exaggerated many things in this lifetime but I really mean it when I say I am so darn stressed. Manila is sucking all of my energy. Everything about me is sore. My blistered  feet are swollen to almost double their size (at least that's how they feel!) I think I have covered a thousand miles in less than 48 hours of being here, and inhaled the most impure air the congested city has to offer.


Well, not that everything's bad. In fact, my adventure here for my Visa is really becoming  memorable that I could write pages and pages about it.


It's just that if my fairy godmother shows up right now I would ask for sauna and a full body massage in lavender oil. Plus giant pillows and a warm bed with perfumed beddings. *Sighs dreamily*

More Emotional Poetry

It's unbelievable how many poems I managed to finish in two days! I still have to revise three of the ones I started but as of the moment...

Lovemaking (11.09.10)

Drink me like wine

And thirst for more

Touch me madly

Consume me whole

Lose yourself in me,

for me to find you

In you I lose myself

So I'd reach home.

Sentiments (11.10.10)

“Lying on the bed, curled in a ball

With mask off, denuded of my gown

I ponder it's a coincidence, is it not

When in the dark all men come.

But when they see my nakedness

In the light, away from me they run

They have no need to look at me

only they ask my buttons be undone.

No one has ever stayed to unveil

Secrets I've been hungry to share

So I stay in bed, lying, lying, lying

And in the relieving darkness, despair.”

I Have Not Forgotten You

I have not forgotten you

But in vain I try to recall

Why I used to think

I would always remember

That you are my world

That there is no one else

That could ever love me

Despair not and you'd see

I have not forgotten you

Only what you used to be.

There's No One Else

I promise you

There would be no one else

In all of the earth

Who could love you

The way I do,have and will.

I long to tell you how

and in the sweet nights

Whisper to you why,

make you understand.

But I love you in such a way

That it takes over my soul

as it defines my world

It fills my heart and more

And takes away my words

But believe me, Darling

always remember

And even if you go away

Never ever forget

There would be no one else.

Fuck You

Empty whiskey bottles

danced in pairs at my feet

Along with wrappers

of tasteless sweets

I felt like a chimney

With all the cigarettes

Face buried in my hands

I wanted to cry again

Maybe drown in them

As I tasted my tears

You left me

You left me.

Image from cthulhu-bunny.deviantart.com

Scream

It's nearly 3 PM, and the dark sky is promising a cool, rainy afternoon. Straight from bed I had camped on the dining table, nose on my mother's Notebook, and managed to consume a carton of Chuckie, a pack of Nissin Cubee Wafer, three strips of bacon, two plates of rice and at least half a liter of Coca-Cola, within the span of 6 hours. Life is so good. Not only that, I my days as a certified bum are numbered (please, God).

My hands are itching to get on my invitation letter from China. It was posted over a week ago and if the date were any indication, it's due to arrive on my doorstep anytime. I am crazy for it. It's a long-overdue birthday present.

Please, please,please.

He Got Over Me Too Soon

It is not often I wrote two poems in a day. What made this day different, I don't know. My life has been a roller coaster this past few weeks that even for me it's not easy to point out which feeling I have been acting on.

I know one thing for sure, what triggered the writing of following poems (aside from my overdeveloped limbic system) is the realization that someone I cared about didn't care for me at all. We could not even be friends. I am still too numb to digest the idea he's not just that into me, and considering my state of mind it's just better this way. I will deal with it when I can handle it.

IRONY

You gave color to my world

Before it dawned on me

My world was black and white

You made me feel alive

When I barely even knew

How I was merely existing

And just when I found

The meaning of my life

You changed the way I see it

It is ironic, this irony

How often I wonder

The more I understand

You Got Over Me Too Soon

You called me your princess

and slayed the dragon in my soul

You had looked straight into my eyes

When you promised me the moon

I believed what we had was real

I had faith all you said was true

Now under a godless sky I looked into

The nothingness that became of me

My empty heart could not make room

For little relief in my immortal wounds

Just yesterday I was your princess

Just yesterday you promised me the moon.

I feel defensive about the second poem, oddly. Even to me it sounds too wounded, emotional, and gloomy. There's some cheesiness in it, the kind I'd dive into if I were in high school now. But it speaks my heart at the moment and though I highly doubt many people would ever read  it, this poem is my silent pride.

At first I thought of combining the two poems, keeping "You Got Over Me Too Soon" as the title but the lines in Irony seem to be screaming otherwise. So there. My masterpieces in the shadows.

 

LSS

For the past few days, all I have been listening to are the following: a.) Thinking of You by Katy Perry b.) What Love Really Means by JJ Heller and c.) Love the Way You Lie by Eminem and Rihanna. I am SO addicted to these songs. I sing them when I am not listening to them over and over again. I feel very emotional with each line, and more than once I practically cried, burying my face in my pillows. For some reason, each song (in its own way) has pinned down how I exactly felt about certain things.

I do not want to think that I am a very depressed woman. I would like to think I am happy as a lark, which, of course, is not completely true. Several things right now make me unhappy and restless. I always have the urge to figuratively spread my wings and fly to Nowheredom.

First off, Thinking of You. ( Thinking of You on Youtube )

 Thinking Of You 

 Comparisons are easily done
Once you've had a taste of perfection
Like an apple hanging from a tree
I picked the ripest one, I still got the seed

You said move on, where do I go?
I guess second best is all I will know

'Cause when I'm with him I am thinking of you
Thinking of you, what you would do
If you were the one who was spending the night
Oh, I wish that I was looking into your eyes

You're like an Indian Summer in the middle of winter
Like a hard candy with a surprise center
How do I get better once I've had the best?
You said there's tons of fish in the water,

so the waters I will test

He kissed my lips, I taste your mouth,

He pulled me in, I was disgusted with myself

'Cause when I'm with him I am thinking of you
Thinking of you, what you would do
If you were the one who was spending the night
Oh, I wish that I was looking into your, your eyes
Looking into your eyes, looking into your eyes

Oh, won't you walk through?
And bust in the door and take me away?
Oh, no more mistakes
'Cause in your eyes I'd like to stay, stay

Why this song captured me so much probably has a lot to do with the video. It shows the (yes, HOT!) man leaving his lover behind to fight for his country, and getting killed in the war. Then even as she was living with someone else, her heart still belonged to her dead love. I have read a lot about the war and stories about it are really close to my heart. So I am so emo when I was saw the video. I wish I could help it! I can't stop myself from imagining what-if's. It would definitely crush my world if a man I love would die or leave me. I could not imagine myself EVER moving on! Indeed, parting and living is sorrow, but parting and dying would be less painful.

JJ Heller

JJ Heller's What Love Really Means ( What Love Really Means on Youtube ) on the other hand, shed some light into my loneliness. Honestly, I have never been much into Christian music but this one is definitely something I'd NEVER forget! One thing about it is that it speaks EXACTLY my sentiments in the chorus: "Who will love me for me? Not for what I have done or what I will become. 'Cause nobody has shown me what love really means."

I meant that in a romantic sense, of course. I am yet to find someone who doesn't flinch at my flaws and someone who stays with me despite them. He sees things in me that others look over. However, the song also got into my heart with it's loving message...that God, regardless how much we screw up, will always love us and never leave us alone. Isn't it a very comforting thought? :)

What Love Really Means

“He cries in the corner where nobody sees
He’s the kid with the story no one would believe
He prays every night, “Dear God won’t you please
Could you send someone here who will love me?”

Who will love me for me
Not for what I have done or what I will become
Who will love me for me
‘Cause nobody has shown me what love
What love really means

Her office is shrinking a little each day
She’s the woman whose husband has run away
She’ll go to the gym after working today
Maybe if she was thinner
Then he would’ve stayed
And she says…

Who will love me for me?
Not for what I have done or what I will become
Who will love me for me?
‘Cause nobody has shown me what love, what love really means

He’s waiting to die as he sits all alone
He’s a man in a cell who regrets what he’s done
He utters a cry from the depths of his soul
“Oh Lord, forgive me, I want to go home”

Then he heard a voice somewhere deep inside
And it said
“I know you’ve murdered and I know you’ve lied
I have watched you suffer all of your life
And now that you’ll listen, I’ll tell you that I…”

I will love you for you
Not for what you have done or what you will become
I will love you for you
I will give you the love
The love that you never knew

Eminem and Rihanna's Love the Way You Lie (Love the Way You Lie on Youtube ), though, makes me reflect on how much love COULD hurt. But it's too beautiful to give up on. It's video is one of the most impressively intense ones I've ever seen (Megan Fox!) but Rihanna's singing really touched me the above anything else. Probably because she could identify with the message of the song too well, and so much pain showed in her eyes and could be heard in her voice. Am I not a sucker for drama. *Sigh*

 

 

 

 

Love The Way You Lie

 

 

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
That's all right because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
That's all right because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

I can't tell you what it really is, I can only tell you what it feels like
And right now it's a steel knife in my windpipe
I can't breathe but I still fight while I can fight
As long as the wrong feels right it's like I'm in flight
High off her love, drunk from my hate, it's like I'm huffin' paint
And I love it the more I suffer, I suffocate
And right before I'm about to drown, she resuscitates me, she fckkin' hates me
And I love it, "wait, where you goin'?"
"I'm leavin' you," "no you ain't come back"
We're runnin' right back, here we go again
It's So insane, cause when it's goin' good it's goin' great
I'm superman with the wind at his back, she's Lois Lane
But when it's bad it's awful, I feel so ashamed I snap
Whose that dude? I don't even know his name
I laid hands on her
I'll never stoop so low again
I guess I don't know my own strength

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
Well that's all right because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
Well that's all right because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

You ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe
When you with em you meet and neither one of you even know what hit em
Got that warm fuzzy feeling
Yeah them chills used to get em
Now you're getting fuckin' sick of lookin' at em
You swore you'd never hit em, never do nothin' to hurt em
Now you're in each other's face spewin' venom in your words when you spit em
You push pull each other's hair
Scratch claw hit em throw em down pin em
So lost in the moments when you're in em
It's the rage that's the culprit, controls you both
So they say it's best to go your seperate ways
Guess that they don't know ya
Cause today that was yesterday
Yesterday is over, it's a different day
Sound like broken records playin' over
But you promised her next time you'll show restraint
You don't get another chance
Life is no nintendo game, but you lied again
Now you get to watch her leave out the window
Guess that's why they call it window pane


Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
Well that's all right because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
Well that's all right because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

Now I know we said things, did things, that we didn't mean

And we fall back into the same patterns, same routine
But your temper's just as bad as mine is, you're the same as me
When it comes to love you're just as blinded
Baby please come back, it wasn't you, baby it was me
Maybe our relationship isn't as crazy as it seems
Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano
All I know is I love you too much to walk away though
Come inside, pick up the bags off the sidewalk
Don't you hear sincerity in my voice when I talk?
Told you this is my fault, look me in the eyeball
Next time I'm pissed I'll aim my fist at the drywall
Next time there won't be no next time
I apologize even though I know it's lies
I'm tired of the games I just want her back
I know I'm a liar if she ever tries to leave again
I'ma tie her to the bed and set this house on fire
Just gonna

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
Well that's all right because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
Well that's all right because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

*Sigh* Can't stop listening to these songs.

Murderous Thoughts

I know it was wrong, but there were countless times I wished someone dead. Indeed, as Elizabeth Kenny said, he who angers you conquers you. But normally after a few minutes when I have calmed down and got over things, I’d realized that I had been mean in thoughts. I’d forget, and move on.

However, there is a particular incident which, no matter how many years had passed, did not make me forget and did not assuage that fervent wish for someone to die.  In fact, whenever I recall it, I would be filled with renewed loathing and that urge to stab the person involved could get so overwhelming that I scare even myself.

It was the 8^th of May around a decade ago, during our annual celebration of the town fiesta in Pototan.  The plaza was festive in every sense of the word. People riding the Ferris wheel were screaming as if being butchered and you could hear them even at a distance. Everybody seemed to be talking at the same time, not to mention moving in opposite directions at the same time too. The air smelled of popcorn, pan cakes and fish ball.

And there was the scorching sun, especially more merciless at high noon, but apparently I did not care much because I could not recall having brought an umbrella. I was a short, skinny girl of 12 (give or take a year), wearing a gray blouse which I matched with worn pedal pushers. Maybe I was on the way to meet some friends, but I remembered stopping in one of those stalls in front of the astrodome to idly look at printed 1x1 and wallet-sized celebrity photos vendors sold cheaply. 

Everybody at the time was gaga over A-1, Westlife, and Britney, and stalls adorned with photos and posters of them were practically everywhere. I am not sure if I ever purchased anything but I left right away and headed toward the corner of the plaza, where cheap plastic toys were laid on the ground next to bracelets and necklaces and jelly slippers. 

Then… I felt it. A hand was running on my right thigh, as I heard a man’s voice saying “Hi, sexy legs.” Before I could react, he was moving away already. Shocked, speechless, I followed him with my gaze and he looked back that for a brief moment, our eyes met and he grinned like the bastard that he was.

I was still unable to speak, but I could tell you my exact thoughts at the time: I thought of running after him, punching his face, scratching his eyes out and screaming until a police would intervene and lock him beyond bars. I wanted to kick him hard in the groin over and over again for the dirty thing he did. But I was not able to move. I thought, “What if he had a weapon with him?” The idea of having to die young in his evil hands was repulsive enough. I swore under my breath, and he was gone, swallowed by the crowd.

My memory had blocked out how he looked because the experience (like himself and his black soul) was too ugly. I never felt so powerless as I did at the moment.  My passivity shamed me that I never told anyone about it. And yes, probably I just saved myself from being potentially killed by a molester, but all these years I wished I have done something. Anything at all, to at least convince myself that I did not just let it happen. If only I screamed maybe? Someone could’ve run after him and turn him over to the police. Then I would make sure he’d rot in jail before he could do something worse to other girls.

The only consolation I had is that it did not happen at night, in a darkened alley when there was only him and me. Something much horrible would surely have happened and I could have died before my life even started. At some point, I was lucky. He did not hurt me physically, and I walked away with my purity intact.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

from Saw

But call me whatever name you fancy for saying so: I still want that man dead. Dead…buried under the ground along the likes of him...killed painfully and slowly, in the fashion of Saw. Maybe, just maybe, in time I would learn to at least forgive, because definitely I would not be able to forget. Until that time comes, my refuge is Karma.

Don't Call Me Beautiful

I VEHEMENTLY ABHOR IT. I get irritated, inexplicably rebellious over apparently nothing, and mad at the 'limited vocabulary'.

Of course I might be overacting again, but for some reason, I hate to be called beautiful. Not that many people call me so, but whenever some people somehow went blind and associated the word "beautiful" with me, it would always be a challenge to SINCERELY thank the person for the compliment. Most of the time I doubt if it was really meant, and if it was not just said for the sake of conventions and politeness.That word is too common, at times sounding just fake, and so used frequently that to me it simply lost its meaning (though dictionaries still define it as " having qualities that give great pleasure or satisfaction to see, hear, think about, etc.") For some reason being called it,regardless who did, just pisses me off.

Jeez, am I not insecure. I hope I am the only woman who felt this way about being called 'beautiful'. Even to me it's obvious that I do lack confidence in myself. I am too paranoid. I compensate sometimes through arrogance and bullying. But I just felt this way. Sometimes I know I come across too strong, but in my subconscious I've been aware that I appear more confident than I actually feel.


What makes my heart flutter, though, is being called "lovely", and not many people have used that adjective in describing me. "Lovely" in itself has a special ring to it,but then again that is just my impression.

Maybe when I overcome my insecurity and realize I could be sometimes beautiful, hearing "beautiful" wouldn't bother me much. Or maybe it's because no one has called me beautiful and made me FEEL beautiful.But what I have to concern myself with (and I owe myself this) is to BELIEVE that I am. After all, your worth is a matter of perspective. But gosh, I hope until I come into terms with myself on this issue, nobody would call me beautiful...yet.

Jitters

I must admit that there were times I have the maturity level of a third grader, and my irrational thoughts are way too irrational that they consciously embarrass even me, wanting me to either change my face or bite my own head off . But friends of mine recently got married...and inevitably, by reasonable stretch of imagination, I thought of my own wedding. A wedding which, truthfully, I am doubting if would ever take place at all, if the availability of potential grooms were any indication. But let us not dwell on the rapidly decreasing population of straight men in the Philippines, more specifically of straight men who by my standards are not colossal jackasses. Ha!


The thing is, and I have not told many people about this, weddings scare me. At this point when I think of weddings I am more likely to associate them with wailing flower girls and ring bearers, children knocking into everything (narrowly missing your wedding cake), bad wedding pictures, party crashers, awkward toasts, best friends unearthing your most embarrassing moments, drunken guests, faulty sound system...you get the idea. PETTY, PETTY stuff. I know, I am such a freak to be scared of being embarrassed (embarrassed!) at my own wedding over unimportant things. But it's a relief, at least, that I realize how unreasonable my train of thoughts could get, and that eventually I'd get over my twisted concept of my own wedding turning out to be a compilation of nightmares.


The point of the whole thing is to celebrate a blessed union, making your vows to that 'One and Only' with God as witness, along with the people who love you both and wish you only the best. (If only THAT idea would penetrate deep enough into my brain!) A wedding is a very special and sacred ceremony. It's just that I always pictured my own wedding to be a private affair. Private to me means just me and my groom, exchanging vows in the sunset and walking barefoot on the cool shore at night. I would want only closest friends and selected family members to be in attendance. It's unthinkable not to have with you your loved ones, and no further elaboration on the matter is warranted.


Of course, I don't have details on anything else such as the way napkins should be folded because I want to leave as many things unplanned and unfold on their own.Isn't it a comfort that my wedding probably wouldn't take place soon? I have around 6 years to learn dealing with my anxiety in a socially acceptable manner. Haha I doubt at 28, I would still be worrying over these non-consequential matters the same way I am now. Time heals all wounds and (help me God) eventually reduce irrational, untimely wedding jitters. :)

I Wish I ...

Before anything else, let me say how happy I was that Bes, for the first time in a long time, went online today, we talked for more than five minutes, and she did not ignore me. In fact, she PM'd me first. How unusual, considering how busy she's been sitting on her baby! Haha

(Just kidding, Bes. Miss you.)

Anyways, what prompted the little research that I just finished is our conversation. It went something like this (as best as I could recall since I was brain-dead at the time):

Me: Bes, I hope we can go to Buto't Balat; but it's your treat since I am penniless.
Bes:  YOU, Bes, penniless?!
Me: I wish I were kidding. But life's a bitch, and it has puppies.
Bes: ADIK. (all caps?) "Were", not "was"?
Me: Doesn't matter. It's like saying "If I were a boy...", when you express a wish or something, you use 'were'. I think it's not about the subject's being plural or singular. It's kind of ..subjunctive tense, er, mood of the verb.

At this point, I was alarmed. OMG. I know I am right to use 'were' but I could not EXPLAIN it properly. Like, shame, because I am an English major..so shouldn't I KNOW the reason beyond something so simple?Jeez. When Bes practically vanished (translated: went offline) I promptly did research for my own sake. Mentally, I could not let it go until I make sure I am getting my grammar rules right.

As I learned way back, the English language has three verb moods:  the Indicative, Imperative, and the Subjunctive. The mood of the verb is the manner in which an action is carried out. Indicative mood states a fact, imperative states a command or a question, and subjunctive mood expresses desire, doubt, supposition and a condition contrary to fact.

I used to confuse verb mood with tense and form but as I've found out, tense shows the time an action occurred (think IS, WAS, WILL) while verb forms are BASE, INFINITIVE, PAST SIMPLE, etc. You get the idea.

Going back, a verb in subjunctive mood is most often found in a clause beginning with the word if, as well as clauses following a verb that expresses a doubt, a wish, regret, request, demand, or proposal. In modern English, it is found only in subordinate or dependent clauses.

The subjunctive mood of the verb to be is be in the present tense and were in the past tense, regardless of what the subject is.

That in mind, we conclude that it's correct to say "I wish I WERE joking." The second verb is in a clause following a verb expressing a wish. It also suggests a non-factual or doubtful condition. (So, so cerebral! haha) Sometimes we may use the conditional auxiliary verbs of could, should, or would to express the same sense: I wish I could be joking.

These are verbs typically followed by clauses that take the subjunctive: ask, demand, determine, insist, move, order, pray, prefer, recommend, regret, request, require, suggest, and wish. 

Whew! How enlightening. But I badly need to review those dusty, yellowed grammar books I've been keeping in the closet (or maybe under my bed???). Ha. I wish I knew.

So Paranoid

Call me nuts, or whatever. but whenever my phone rings and an unknown number calls me, I NEVER pick up. I have probably a hundred of missed calls, had my phone been capable of keeping not only 20 numbers on the list. (You'd think I never worked at a call center but we're talking bout my personal CP.)

Here are the reasons why I'd never answer these calls (there are only two, really):

a) If the person on the line knows me, he/she would send a follow-up text message. If there isn't a follow up message, then the person on the other line is a stranger. And I won't talk to one, when I couldn't see him/her!
b) Maybe it's Jigsaw on the other line...and I fear a stranger's voice because there's no way for me to know what to expect. And it gives me rapid heart palpitations.

Same goes for IM's. I always hesitate to accept requests  if I don't know what to expect on the other line. *Sigh*

I am still to find out if such phobia existed. Probably it's just anxiety disorder which could still be remedied. Hopefully...

Airplanes In The Night Sky Are Shooting Stars

Where is he???

Dear Prince Charming,

I’ve been asking myself lately why oh why can’t you just step out from wherever you’re hiding and take me far away into the sunset. For some indigestible reason, all I’ve been attracting are the wrong men! Well, I decide they were the wrong ones because they did not give me those rapid heart palpitations that I am supposed to feel when you are near, and they did not make me smile for no apparent reason. There was only bile rising on my throat and the sinking sensation in the gut upon the realization that, over and over again, it wasn't YOU who came near me.

There’s never been chemistry. I could not hear angels sing in their presence, and looking at them (or their pictures) did not make my heart leap, and I wasn’t at loss for words ever.  They did not make me feel melting like butter, nor they inspired a poem or two.  Nobody could even grab my attention, much less keep it. Nobody has inspired me to sing in the shower.

And I have felt this a thousand times already, but this time I’ll say it: Attention from the ones you decide are wrong for you is probably one of the most vomit-inducing things on earth! Okay, probably I am being overly dramatic again but really, it’s like the ground opening up to swallow you whole and putting an end to your existence. I feel like I had an invisible sign plastered on my forehead that says something like "Normalcy Not Required" or "Opportunistic, Lying, and Manipulating Sex Predators Welcome". Or maybe it says "DOM Only". Being a trouble magnet had never been so unbearable!

Where are you as I write this? I know that I should be patient, and that we’ll meet at the right time, but I just really want to let you know that today, I think of you more intensely than I did the last few days.  I don’t want to doubt your existence, but I can’t wait for you to rescue me from these deranged bestial freaks!  Okay, I should be stable in many aspects first, of course, so I’d deserve you, but you can’t keep a girl from hoping. And though I am a work in progress right now (or under construction), like any other girl, I dream of meeting my Prince Charming, finally to keep the wrong ones at bay, for good.  :(

Still waiting...