022713

I'm alive.

Although I've been posting about death and how I wish there was an easy way to just end everything, I'm still here. Breathing. Existing. Trying to live.

These past week I've been spending more time with books than with people. I guess it's because I spend enough time with people in the office that I no longer crave company as much as I did when I moved back more than two months ago. I'm still figuring out how I could transform myself into a less awkward, more sociable person but I am finding that more and more difficult. Just today I realized how much I dislike having the spotlight on me in social situations. Ugh.

Last week (at least I think it was last week) I finally saw Warm Bodies. It was surprisingly adorable. Nicolas Hoult made such a hot zombie OH MY GOD. The story itself was really cute. And I cried. A lot.

I'm planning on spending the night of my birthday watching Silver Linings Playbook at the cinema. Alone, of course. Most of the movies I saw in theaters in my twenties, I saw alone. Most people find that weird, apparently, but I really prefer watching a movie by myself than with someone because then I could concentrate on the film and no one would be bothering me. Yes, I consider being talked to while watching a film a bother. It makes me cranky.

I'm currently bingeing on young adult novels. My goal this month is to read at least three books and I'm currently on the fourth, which isn't really an achievement because one of the books is The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss, which one can read in minutes. Haha. I'm reading YAL and children's lit mostly, because, well, they're easy. And I honestly just prefer YAL over "adult" literature. This past week I read Boy Meets Boy by David Levithan and Paper Towns by John Green. Many people have been raving about Fault in Our Stars but that makes me not want to read it YET. I'd rather do it when everyone else is over it, I guess. I liked both Boy Meets Boy and Paper Towns, and they both convinced me that my heart really is in YAL. Perhaps I'm just not smart enough to appreciate Pulitzer or Nobel prize winning authors. Haha.

I'm currently reading a novel called Eggs by Jerry Spinelli, who wrote one of my favorite novels, Stargirl. The characters are both annoying and amusing, and their love-hate relationship calls to mind my own relationship with my younger brother. Endless bickering!

My 25th birthday is only three days away, isn't it? I can't wait for the weekend.

021813

I wish there was an easy way to die.

How I Spent Valentine's Day

Some asshole posted on Facebook that people who don't have dates should just admit their "utter lack of qualification for participation in it" and that "unattractive people can be so creative" in making up excuses for supposedly loving their singlehood and for criticizing Valentine's day.

Well, excuse me. If someone says they love being single, who are you to question them? And why the fuck does it even matter to you that some people don't buy the idea of Valentine's? Haha. Seriously. If you were so happy on Vday because you had a girlfriend, you wouldn't have time to browse your newsfeed, read other people's posts on the occasion, and rant about it. Come on, dude.

Anyway, I'm not really a fan of the day, as I've mentioned in a previous post. I was supposed to go on a date with two of my constants, but in the morning, on Twitter, I read about the One Billion Rising in Tomas Morato, so I asked Natz and Gio if we could join said event instead of spending our night at a mall. Because they're awesome, they agreed to spend their evenings at an event to support a global campaign to end violence against women.

I'm so happy. Really.

We left the event for about an hour and a half to find a place to eat. We ended up at this noodle house that serves hand-pulled noodles and that looks like a reataurant out of a Jackie Chan film. Oh. My. God. Best fucking noodles ever. They also have the best pork dumplings I've ever had in my life and their buchi was also very good. The place is called SanSeh, by the way. Even their water tastes good. Hah.

Also, I almost got run over by a car at least three times last night, which led me to conclude that in our little group, I am the idiot. Gio is the straight guy, and Natz is... I forget what Gio called Natz. Haha. Anyway, I had an awesome night and I came home with a stomach full of hand-pulled noodles and a heart filled with love and joy and warmth.

And that's the point of Valentine's day, isn't it? Well, if it's not and you tell me it's actually to give/receive flowers and gifts and love letters and go on dates with a special someone, fuck you. Haha.

You Got Mail

Received a couple of letters this last week. One was from the lovely Isa, the other from my internet friend Katyha, all the way from Sydney. I love getting mail. I stopped writing letters last year though 'cause the post office never sent two long letters I wrote, one to Isa and another to my then-boyfriend. I don't know why they never got the letters and if it was my post office's fault or theirs (they were both in Pasig), but that sure sucked bigtime.

Katyha sent me a set of postcards by local artists (photo below) and a seven-page letter. I love getting letters from people abroad, whom I've never actually met. I'm just about to write my reply, so I can send the letter this afternoon before I go back to Manila.

I'm planning on going to Cubao Ex this weekend with my LF loves. Malls just don't cut it anymore, so I decided it's time I go someplace else. Somewhere I can go on a regular basis, I guess. Cubao Ex is, as Gio told me last night, a place for hipsters, which we are not, but I don't think we're full-on mainstreamers either so we might fit in well enough. I've only been there once, over a year ago. I loved the little antique stores and second hand book shops they had. Which reminds me, I watched Midnight in Paris again a few nights ago. Didn't finish it, though. I just wanted to see it again. Kind of like what I sometimes do with (500) Days of Summer. Both movies are favorites, and both visually appealing. I like my films with lots of yellow tones.

Speaking of films, I want to see Warm Bodies. Maybe I should go this Valentine's Day. Hmm. By myself, yes, because hoing on dates on V-Day is too mainstream. What.

021013

It's only February but I already feel like I've learned so much this year. And that is always a good thing.

People are strange. And, sometimes, strange things can be frightening. So I guess it makes sense that I'm scared of people and of what they are capable of.

Which does not mean I'll stop trying, of course.

***

I wonder if I'd ever get to share my roof with that person. But the encounter seems to be a one-time thing, so perhaps it all ends at the train station a few minutes before his twenty fifth birthday. My gut is usually right.

***

And today the weirdest thing happened to me. But I can't say I was surprised because fantasies are glass: they break, they shatter. It was bound to happen sooner or later, I suppose.

***

Lez and I realized we find awkwardness in guys endearing. Most people say confidence is sexy, but I'd rather have an awkward turtle hiding in its shell.

***

We were two sad people, indeed. But you lied 'cause you said "over tea or coffee" and yet you bought a bottle of, what? Was that apple juice you got?

020813

The universe is kind. It only feels like it is not because people can be cruel. And we always seem to find some way to justify our cruelty. I wish we didn't.

***

We always talk about childishness and maturity as negative and positive, respectively. But I realized just this morning that I like people who maintain their inner child, who retain a sense of wonder and innocence, while I harbor contempt for people who claim to be all-grown-up and act as if everything they do is right because it's the mature thing to do.

***

If someone says they love you, don't question them. Resist the urge to ask why or how or when. Only doubt someone if they hurt you or lie to you. But if all they do is try and make you happy even if they sometimes fail and end up disappointing you, then they really must love you. And if you find it in your heart to love them back, then fuck everything else and just do it. But if you can't love them, let them know and tell them to go.

***

I am Piscean. This will keep happening.

020713

There's so much I want to say tonight, but the words I find never seem right. I am sad and angry and disappointed because people are fucking stupid and selfish and narrow-minded. Myself included.

I feel helpless.

Last night, I thought about the roof. And then I thought about the guy who fell from the 28th floor and the kid who jumped out of his window. They both died. I wondered if it hurt to die like that, or if death fetched them so quickly they didn't have time to feel anything anymore. Perhaps, for a moment, they felt what it was like to fly. I forced the images and the ideas out of my head, otherwise falling asleep would have been harder than it already was. 

There is a heavy feeling in my chest. I am crying it out. Here's hoping something comes in the night to take it away.

And that tomorrow will be a better day.

020613

Although, if I were to be completely honest with myself, all I am longing for, really, is to be sought and to be found.

How did you find me?

Intersection

This is where you'll find me: in the in-between of sleep and consciousness, a blur in a haze of somnolence.

All That is Worth Anything

Go after her. Fuck, don’t sit there and wait for her to call, go after her because that’s what you should do if you love someone, don’t wait for them to give you a sign cause it might never come, don’t let people happen to you, don’t let me happen to you, or her, she’s not a fucking television show or tornado. There are people I might have loved had they gotten on the airplane or run down the street after me or called me up drunk at four in the morning because they need to tell me right now and because they cannot regret this and I always thought I’d be the only one doing crazy things for people who would never give enough of a fuck to do it back or to act like idiots or be entirely vulnerable and honest and making someone fall in love with you is easy and flying 3000 miles on four days notice because you can’t just sit there and do nothing and breathe into telephones is not everyone’s idea of love but it is the way I can recognize it because that is what I do. Go scream it and be with her in meaningful ways because that is beautiful and that is generous and that is what loving someone is, that is raw and that is unguarded, and that is all that is worth anything, really. 

— Helena Kvarnström

Because I believe in vulnerability and in an all-consuming love.

020213

                   Every

day, it gets

  easier and 

                       easier 

      to say I'm glad 

w               e    are 

no longer 

             

                     together.

Fiction: Seren

Hemingway once said, "The first draft of anything is shit." So since this is from a chapter from my unfinished NaNoWriMo project from 2009 (Mixtapes for Lunch), let me tell you straight out that it's shit. There's some good shit in it, but it's mostly bad shit. It's been on this blog's drafts folder since October! I really liked the main character in the novel, C. I changed her name for this story though because I was trying to rewrite it as a short story, but it's been difficult. Then again, writing is always difficult. But I really, really like this part because there's some stuff in here that, when I read it again a year later, made me think "Did I really write this?" Haha. It feels good to surprise oneself every now and then. I still want to finish Mixtapes, but with work and everything, I don't think I can. At least not anytime soon. Besides, it requires a lot of research, and I intend to change a lot of things, so I'd probably be scrapping 70% of my draft. Also, I'm bad at writing from the POV of a guy.

Know what else feels damn good? Being told you're perfect and not believing (of course) it but feeling, even for a second, that you are.

THE FOLLOWING TEXT MAY CONTAIN EMBARRASSING MISSPELLINGS AND GRAMMATICAL ERRORS.

***

It was during my short stay in San Ildefonso that I finally saw her again.

She arrived at eight thirty, exactly as she'd promised. Punctuality was a virtue she never acquired, so it was surprising to see her come on time. She rang the doorbell twice. When I still didn't come to the door she pounded on it loudly. I ran to the living room to open the door, wondering how she would have acted had I not lived alone. "You're early,” I greeted. I sensed something odd was about to happen and it worried me a bit.

"On time, you mean,” Seren said, rolling her eyes.

"Are we going now? I think it's too early.”

"I think so too. I'm a little tired. Can I sleep?"

"Here?"

"No. In the bathroom."

"Be my guest," I said.

She grinned and made her way into my bedroom.

"Oy! Where do you think you're going?!"

"Wake me up at ten!” she yelled.

"What?! And what am I supposed to do for two hours?"

"You have enough porn in your hard drive to keep you busy for an entire day!"

I shook my head in disbelief. For some reason, this girl thought having gigabytes of porn in my hard drive meant I did nothing but watch porn all day. I grabbed my PSP and spent an hour playing Monster Hunter until boredom finally came over me.

I decided to check on Seren. She really was asleep. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched her. For once, she looked like a normal girl. Almost cute and innocent enough to believe that condoms were flavored for blowjobs. Although she had slept over in the past, I hadn't really found a chance to watch her sleep. Besides, the thought of doing so never really occurred to me. My premonition was right. This was the odd thing I feared. I brushed some strands of hair off her face.

Let me tell you about her face. She wasn't my idea of pretty, but she had a face that sort of grows on a person. When I first saw her I thought she looked plain, something like a gray curtain that made even an interesting room look boring. A few months after our first encounter though, I realized she didn't really look as bad as I thought she did. It was probably the lighting. Or it was probably because, as we spent more time together, I realized just how special a girl she was. Everything I didn't like about a girl, she probably had. But I didn't care, probably because I was not interested in her romantically.

But I loved her.

While I watched her sleep soundly on my bed like it was hers, I realized just how special the bond I had with her was. I'd never thought of it until then and it made me wonder whether or not Seren thought of me as a special person too, or if I was just another friend she shamelessly watched porn with. She did mention once that she had not watched the stars with any guy other than me so that must mean we had some sort of special bond for her too. But that was beyond the point.

What was the point anyway?

She had sworn to her grandmother's grave that she will only love Kurt Cobain. She had only had one boyfriend all her life, whom she did not love a bit. She was on her third year in high school then and the relationship was more of an experiment than an actual love affair, and they broke up soon after he tried to talk her into giving him a blowjob.

The face he had on that day still haunted her dreams sometimes. He looked just like a crying banobo. “It’s perfectly harmless,” he almost begged. “It’s not like you’re gonna get pregnant.”

That last line made her snort. “Idiot,” she said, pushing him away. “There’s no way I’m taking your cock into my mouth. I don’t even like you.”

Never again did they speak a word to each other after that. When I asked her why she got into a relationship with the poor guy in the first place, she just shrugged and said, "I just wanted to have a boyfriend. Everyone was doing it so I thought it was cool."

She stirred.

I hurriedly got on my feet and darted out of the room.



By the time Seren woke up, it was way past ten thirty, late enough for stars to cloud over the sleepy village.

"Drei?" she called out, peering through the bedroom door.

"Oh, you're up," I said. "Can we go now?"

"Yes,” she answered, stretching as she yawned. "I like your bed. I slept well. I should sleep over more often while you're still here."

The night was chilly, typical of a late October evening. Hardly any people were out on the streets, save for a raucous group of shirtless men drinking in front of a sari-sari store. As we rode through the darkness, she sang Come As You Are and I sang along. We followed the familiar dirt road that led the river. There were no streetlights in that part of the village so it became harder and harder for us to see. Good thing the some residents kept a light on in their houses. We dragged our bikes up a hilly part to the hut previously owned by her aunt. When her aunt's husband left though, she went to live with her parents again, along with her two kids, leaving the tiny house to nobody’s care.

Seren lay her bike on the ground as soon as we arrived and rushed downhill towards the riverbank. "Yaaaaaaay!" she cried, running around like a little girl, kicking the water and twirling every now and then. "I missed this place!"

I took a seat on a patch of grass and looked skyward. She was right. It was a great place to watch the stars. Back in Manila, the city was always bright, so it wasn't easy to see the stars, but not here. Thousands of tiny blinking lights were scattered across the sky, overwhelming me. Seren made her way back up and sat beside me.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" A smile of contentment fanned out across her face.

"Yes," I said. There was nothing else to say but yes.

"God must be watching us right now. Maybe he has a thousand eyes and he's watching us through a telescope with a thousand peepholes."

I laughed. "You're weird."

"I know. You've told me so a hundred times already."

"Just me?"

"No. Everyone, save for lolo. Sometimes I think he's the only one who understands."

"You're such a lolo's girl," I said.

"I am. I don't think I could live without him. But he's not getting any younger so I guess I should learn how to live by myself soon."

"You have your family though."

"I know but it's not the same. Somehow I feel like an alien around my own family."

"Just around them? I thought you felt like an alien around anybody."

"Not around you," she said. "Which is why I like you as much as I do. You're just as weird as I am."

"Ouch!" I said, acting like I was really hurt. "I hope nobody shares that opinion."

"You think being weird is bad?"

"Not really. Everyone's a little weird, I guess."

"Sure. Only, I'm more than a little weird to most people."

I looked at her and noticed that the moonlight made her skin seem like a light shade of grey. "You look like a vampire," I said.

She simply snorted in response. Her eyes were fixed on the magical scenery above us, taking it in, probably etching it onto a blank sheet of her memory. "I know this might sound like I have a thing for you," she said. "But I'm really glad we met."

"I always knew you had a thing for me," I joked.

She hit me on the head. "Gago," she said.

"I was kidding. I know you're heartless."

"Right. Because my heart is already in someone's grave."

"That's a good plot for a horror story," I said.

"You think so?"

"Yes."

She grinned. "One day I'm going to be a star. Not a famous person of a star. A real star. A huge ball of gas, glittery and gay on the night sky. Didn't someone from the Lion King say that stars are a bunch of dead people looking down on us, watching over us?"

"I think so. Yeah. I think I remember a saying like that."

"That's it. I want to be like that when I die. If I can't be a star then I'd be a ghost instead."

"Why a ghost? Don't people say ghosts exist because they have unfinished business?"

She nodded. "But I want to be a funny ghost. Evil and funny."

"Eh?"

"For instance, I'm going to haunt a room in a motel. Like Sogo, for instance. I'll pick a room and haunt it. When a couple checks in, I'll let them fuck in peace. Once the guy is about to come, I'm going to do some freaky things like shake the bed or turn the air conditioner off or open the bathroom door." She seemed pretty amused thinking of what she can do as a ghost. "Or maybe I'll haunt your house and do that to you instead while you're masturbating or something."

"You really are a pervert," I said. "I can't believe how shallow a person you think I am. All you do lately is talk about how you think I just wank to the girls in my porn collection."

"What else do you do then?"

"Nothing. I just watch them, get a hard on, and do nothing."

"Are you serious?"

"I just keep the videos for the sake of having a collection. Just as you collect your plastic lighters."

"Wow. I thought porn was for wanking."

"It probably is for some," I said. "But I've gotten over that a few years back."

"So you did wank to porn?"

"Of course," I admitted. "No matter how awesome I am, I'm still human after all."

"Wow, that's some self-esteem you have there."

"Shut up," I said.

And she did. The scene was straight out of a movie. Around us, fireflies danced like falling stars. It almost seemed like they came down from the sky to circle us. The only sound was that of cicadas and a few dogs barking. The patch we were sitting on was right beside the hut.

"Want to spend the night here sometime?" she suddenly asked.

"Here?"

"Yeah. In the house, I mean."

"Isn't that scary?"

"Huh? What's so scary about sleeping?"

"I mean, spending the night here."

"Why should you be scared of spending the night in there when you're out here at midnight?"

I checked the time on my watch, trying to make out where the small glowing hands were pointing. She was right. It was almost midnight. "Let's spend the night here then."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"What?! We didn't even bring food. We're going to starve!"

"Idiot! There's just five hours or so before sunrise, we can go back home by then. I'm sure the little anacondas in your stomach can handle a few hours of starvation."

"But not thirst," she insisted.

"Come on. This was your idea."

"I didn't say we're gonna do it now."

"It's now or never," I said.

"You're weird."

"So are you."

When the wind had gotten too cold for us, she got up and walked towards the hut. "Oh shit. It's locked."

I followed her and inspected the door. It was tied with thick rope. The dark made it hard for us to untie it. Luckily I had a Swiss army knife hanging on my key chain. "Let me open it," I said, pulling the knife out of my pocket. It took me about half a minute to cut the thick braid of rope. When it finally gave in I uncoiled it and pulled the door open. She stepped into the dark and I followed. There no longer was any electricity since nobody lived there anymore so all we could do was fumble about in the dark.

The bamboo flooring creaked at our every step. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked.

“You’re making it sound like we’re about to have sex,” I said.

“I know right? It’s getting a bit freaky, being in here. There might be some snakes living here now.”

“Do you want to go home instead then?” I asked.

“I don’t know. How about we stay out all night instead?”

“And freeze to death? No thanks.”

“We’re not going to freeze to death!”

“Yes, we are. It’s way too cold to stay out without a jacket and some thick sweatpants on.”

“I guess you’re right. Let’s stay here then. Although it’s basically the same thing since we don’t have anything in here either.”

“It’s a lot safer in here, I guess.”

“And we can keep each other warm.”

“What?”

“Body heat,” she said. I couldn’t make out her face but something in me said she was smiling when she said that. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m not lusting after you or anything.”

“I didn’t say anything like that,” I said.

“What happened to you and Jean?” she suddenly asked. Jean was a girl I went out with in college. We broke up right after graduation, just before she flew off to the United States for graduate school. Seren never asked about Jean before so she kind of took me aback, asking something like that out of the blue.

“Why the sudden interest in Jean?” I asked back.

“Nothing, really. It’s just that I wish you two would get back together someday. Get married. Have a dozen kids and later on, grandchildren.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird for someone who doesn’t want children to be talking about these things?”

“It’s not like I’m the one who’s going to have children. I’m talking about you and Jeanie. Don’t you love her anymore?”

“I do,” I answered truthfully. “I still do.”

“I know,” said Seren. “It shows. I may not be the best judge of character when it comes to being in love but I can at least tell whether a person feels something for another.”

“What about you, then?”

“Me? I don’t know. I can only think of acting like that in the presence of Kurt Cobain. But I’d have to die first before that happens. Unless I decide to dig up his grave or something. Although I’m not sure if his bones would have the same effect on me as seeing him alive.”

“Why do you like him so much? There are plenty of other artists out there that you can idolize. And they’re alive. They need fans like you.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know. I’m sure people think I’m crazy whenever I say I love him. Some surely dismiss it as a fanatical sort of admiration and believe me, I think of it that way sometimes too. I guess it’s the best way to describe it anyway, that’s why. But then I realize I don’t have to make sense of it. People shouldn’t too. Instead of worrying whether I’m insane or not, they should find themselves the one great love of their lives. Who said a great love has to be a living, breathing human being? Who said we can’t love zombies? Or ghosts? While some people die for love, I decided I was going to live for it, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t know what you mean,” I answered truthfully.

Seren laughed. “Neither do I, actually. I was just rambling.”

“You have a point though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I agree with what you said about how we shouldn’t make sense of some things.”

“Oh good. Because for once, I’m right. Right?”

“Right. Some things which we find mysterious and have yet to find answers to are probably meant to be just that—mysteries.”

“Exactly. I don’t want to worry about the things I know I won’t ever figure out.”

“Sometimes you talk too much,” I laughed.

“Sometimes? I thought I talk too much all the time.”

“Not really. There are times when you’re too quiet even I can’t stand it.”

“You’re one to talk. You’re not exactly the most talkative person around, you know?”

“Tell me, how exactly did you find out that he was going to be your one great love?”

“I didn’t find it out,” she said. “It was a decision.”

“A decision?”

“Yes. I don’t believe in simply losing your heart to someone. Surely there was something that made you decide to give it up.”

“How about people who fall in love with the wrong person then?”

“People like that are masochists,” she said matter-of-factly. “I don’t know anything about psychology so my theories have no bases. But I think someone cannot like a person without meaning to. Surely there’s a subconscious decision making involved here. But what the hell, I’m not really making sense anymore so let’s drop the subject, shall we? What time is it anyway?”

I looked at my watch. “It’s almost two thirty.”

“Let’s sleep,” she said, lying down on the floor.

“Hey, Seren.”

“What?”

“Do you think I’m a masochist too?”

“You? Yeah, I think so. You seem to enjoy getting hurt. I don’t know Jean that well so I can’t really tell whether she’s being a sadist or if the two of you are just casting pain on each other like it was some spell. But if you two happen to still be in love with each other and are just apart because of distance, that’s pretty shallow.”

“You sure talk a lot about things you’re not supposed to know much about.”

“Just because I’m in love with a dead man doesn’t mean I know nothing about loving someone.”

“You’re right,” I said. I lay down beside her and pulled her close. Almost instantaneously the cold disappeared and all I could feel was warmth. “Let’s sleep,” I mumbled, closing my eyes. She didn’t answer and soon all I could hear was her steady breathing, along with the familiar sounds of the night echoing from a distance. As I drifted to sleep, I thought about Jean. Seren was probably right. I really was a masochist. Surely, pain was something I could not have evaded even if I tried. But suffering from the said pain was something in my control. I just couldn’t let go of it. “I wish I were more like you,” I muttered, not minding the fact that she was already asleep.

***

I just realized this morning that it's already February. What the fuck, time, slow down! In a month, I'll be twenty five. Scary. But more importantly, V-day is nigh! Two weeks from now, bitter singles will be posting anti Valentine's day stuff on their Facebook walls and Twitter timelines. Will I be joining them? It depends, I guess. But really, Valentine's day is just Valentine's day. It's a day for guys to buy flowers for their girls and for girls to, umm, what do girls do on V-day (In Japan, of course, girls do the chocolate-gifting)? Last year I painted a box of chocolates for a friend in Japan and sent it in the mail as a surprise, because he said he's never gotten honmeichoko on Valentine's day. He said he hates the day, but he loved the inedible chocolates anyway.

Please don't tell me Valentine's day is a celebration of love. Love is too great to be celebrated just once a year.

Bitch, I celebrate love every day.