When will I ever be good enough for you? I’m tired of trying and failing miserably to become the perfect daughter. Time and again you’ve told me to learn to accept things that I cannot change, but why can’t you accept me? You expect too much from me. I can’t be perfect. I feel like I’m living in a military camp where I’m severely punished for every tiny mistake I make.
I’m also starting to feel unloved, too. You sympathize with our household help, saying she’s unappreciated, na palagi na lang mali ang nakikita, na palaging pinapagalitan, na she’s overworked and stuff. Ako rin naman ah (except for the overworked part). You never notice the times that I ran an errand for you, or did something right. Praise me you never did. But when I mess up, boy oh boy, you’re a few steps behind, ready to attack me. Criticisms, that’s all I hear from you. And don’t go telling me that they’re meant to be constructive. On the contrary, your words kill me. You think I never listen to you, but every withering analysis of my flaws crushes my ego and skewers my heart. I will be forever traumatized.
Sunday, June 26
Wednesday, June 22
pretending you're not you
Bwi-shit kayo. “KA,” my ass. Punyeta, sabihin nyo taga-KALIBO, AKLAN kayo! Kinahihya nyo ba sarili nyong bayan? Ayaw nyo ba talagang aminin na mga probinsyana kayo? Manila (or Makati) girls na ba turing nyo sa mga sarili nyo?
“Science High?” My goodness. Write your school name in full so it couldn’t be misinterpreted. The Science High in town is way different from the Philippine Science High in Iloilo or Diliman. Or you just refuse to see the f*cking difference?
I’m sick of you pretentious people!
“Science High?” My goodness. Write your school name in full so it couldn’t be misinterpreted. The Science High in town is way different from the Philippine Science High in Iloilo or Diliman. Or you just refuse to see the f*cking difference?
I’m sick of you pretentious people!
Monday, June 20
books and stuff
Nanay and Tita bought me a bookcase in Iloilo last week, and it would be delivered anytime soon. I wasn’t with them when they bought it, but they tell me that it’s nothing fancy, just the standard upright bookcase. Finally, my precious books would have a home. They’re currently residing in shelves scattered all over the house, so the thought of seeing them in just one place is quite exciting for a bookworm like me.
My collection isn’t that spectacular, mind you. Just a dozen or so classics that I’ve been buying since high school (an offshoot of Ma’am Barrientos’ reading requirements for English 2) and several novels by contemporary writers. But it’s my parents’ books (that are kept in a shelf near the ceiling) that I’m interested in. Really serious stuff like Marx and Lenin, communism and civil rights, and analyses of wars and revolutions. Not exactly my usual dose of fiction, but I would like to try reading some of them. With the new bookcase in transit, at least these books would not be out of reach (literally) anymore. Perhaps just intellectually beyond my reach?
In other news, I was glancing at today’s newspaper and I read “My husband is ready to face investigation” underneath the headline. I thought it came from PGMA, in reference to the jueteng scandal, but turned out it was from Garcillano’s wife. I realized that if it were Gloria who said that, either she’s bluffing or our country has gone to the dogs. If Mike Arroyo is “ready to face investigation,” then his wife probably has “taken care” of everything so that he, Mikey and Iggy could go scot-free. Tsk tsk. Politics was never meant to be this dirty.
Anyway, Tita went to Iloilo again this weekend and she bought me several blouses. They’re a welcome addition to my meager supply of “grown-up” outfits. When I started jobhunting last March, I was scrambling around for clothes I could wear while wandering in Makati. These days, I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go, so to speak. *sigh* I’m still waiting (ah, the agony of it!) for any response from any of the companies I applied to. As I’ve said before, life sucks.
On a more cheerful note, Jommel, my baby brother, went to school today. No, it’s not the “real” school yet, just the daycare center in our barangay. He’s just turning three this coming October, so we weren’t really planning on sending him to school. But he and his yaya tagged along when his playmate (who’s a bit older than my brother) went to school last Friday, and my brother was hooked. According to his yaya, he was listening attentively to the teacher and was very well-behaved. Although he was wont to take his classmates’ things, but only if he didn’t have one of his own. And since his “tuition” was a whopping Php100 entrance fee, and an additional Php50 monthly, Nadya, my younger sister has offered to shoulder that. See how worthless I have become? My 10-year-old sister is already paying for our brother’s education! I couldn’t even afford to buy him crayons. Sheesh. Not so cheerful anymore.
P.S. San Antonio Spurs won Game 5. Yay! Go Parker! Go Ginobili! Go Horry! Go Duncan! *sigh* I know, I’m not really an NBA aficionado. But still. Aren’t they the cutest things. Tee-hee. I can’t say the same about Detroit Pistons; Hamilton’s face mask thingy is just off-putting.
Oh, and I just found out that Tony Parker and Eva Longoria (from Desperate Housewives, I think) are together. I can’t make up my mind which one to envy.
My collection isn’t that spectacular, mind you. Just a dozen or so classics that I’ve been buying since high school (an offshoot of Ma’am Barrientos’ reading requirements for English 2) and several novels by contemporary writers. But it’s my parents’ books (that are kept in a shelf near the ceiling) that I’m interested in. Really serious stuff like Marx and Lenin, communism and civil rights, and analyses of wars and revolutions. Not exactly my usual dose of fiction, but I would like to try reading some of them. With the new bookcase in transit, at least these books would not be out of reach (literally) anymore. Perhaps just intellectually beyond my reach?
In other news, I was glancing at today’s newspaper and I read “My husband is ready to face investigation” underneath the headline. I thought it came from PGMA, in reference to the jueteng scandal, but turned out it was from Garcillano’s wife. I realized that if it were Gloria who said that, either she’s bluffing or our country has gone to the dogs. If Mike Arroyo is “ready to face investigation,” then his wife probably has “taken care” of everything so that he, Mikey and Iggy could go scot-free. Tsk tsk. Politics was never meant to be this dirty.
Anyway, Tita went to Iloilo again this weekend and she bought me several blouses. They’re a welcome addition to my meager supply of “grown-up” outfits. When I started jobhunting last March, I was scrambling around for clothes I could wear while wandering in Makati. These days, I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go, so to speak. *sigh* I’m still waiting (ah, the agony of it!) for any response from any of the companies I applied to. As I’ve said before, life sucks.
On a more cheerful note, Jommel, my baby brother, went to school today. No, it’s not the “real” school yet, just the daycare center in our barangay. He’s just turning three this coming October, so we weren’t really planning on sending him to school. But he and his yaya tagged along when his playmate (who’s a bit older than my brother) went to school last Friday, and my brother was hooked. According to his yaya, he was listening attentively to the teacher and was very well-behaved. Although he was wont to take his classmates’ things, but only if he didn’t have one of his own. And since his “tuition” was a whopping Php100 entrance fee, and an additional Php50 monthly, Nadya, my younger sister has offered to shoulder that. See how worthless I have become? My 10-year-old sister is already paying for our brother’s education! I couldn’t even afford to buy him crayons. Sheesh. Not so cheerful anymore.
P.S. San Antonio Spurs won Game 5. Yay! Go Parker! Go Ginobili! Go Horry! Go Duncan! *sigh* I know, I’m not really an NBA aficionado. But still. Aren’t they the cutest things. Tee-hee. I can’t say the same about Detroit Pistons; Hamilton’s face mask thingy is just off-putting.
Oh, and I just found out that Tony Parker and Eva Longoria (from Desperate Housewives, I think) are together. I can’t make up my mind which one to envy.
Thursday, June 9
finally 'fessed up
mahal nya ko. mahal ko sya. pero bakit hindi pa rin kami masaya? bakit hindi talaga pwede? sino bang gago ang nagsabi na "love conquers all?" punyeta, hindi naman totoo eh.
Monday, June 6
surprise surprise
I saw him today. Seeing him after all those months completely took me by surprise. He didn’t even greet me on my birthday or graduation day. And today I saw him. With his girlfriend. Who was prettier than I thought (I have this thing with curly/wavy-haired chicks). Just what I need for this summer – another reason to be upset. And I thought it couldn’t get any worse.
If you think you know who I’m talking about, guess again. He’s not one of my notorious ex’s (oh, please. Are they still in the picture?), or any of the guys I was linked with back in high school. And this isn’t Cutie Pie either. All the people mentioned above captured only a few moments in my life, so to speak. On the other paw, this guy, who I will fondly call Biker Dude from hereon, takes (notice the present tense) a considerable chunk. And yes, it’s a he.
I knew him ever since I could remember. Biker Dude was a childhood chum, you see, and we were almost brother and sister. He was fun to be with: delightfully naughty and impishly charming. Come to think of it, he was the original bad boy in my life. True, I’ve had a variety of crushes and infatuations during my high school and college years, but closer examination of the more serious ones would show remarkable similarities with Biker Dude. I guess I was unconsciously looking for him each time I meet a guy. It’s as if he was the ideal every guy has to measure up to. And honestly, only one person has ever come close. But let’s not talk about that. I’m out of his picture already.
Some of my closer friends might be surprised with this revelation and wonder why I haven’t told them this before. Well, I only found out about just now myself. I never thought I felt this way about him until recently. Come to think of it, I don’t even know what these feelings are exactly. All I know is that they’re pretty strong.
It was probably our “date” last January that triggered these emotions. I use quotation marks because it wasn’t really a date in the romantic sense, but I don’t know how else to call it. But let me tell you some things about him first. As I’ve mentioned earlier, we were childhood chums and our families were very close. During summer, neighbors like him would come to our house and play with me (wholesome games, you pervert), but I was more drawn to Biker Dude than to any of my playmates.
As we got older, we began to see less and less of each other. I went to high school in Iloilo while he stayed in Aklan. We still maintained contact, albeit erratic, through letters. I keep his letters in a special box. I didn’t realize it then, but he was already special to me.
It was bad enough that we went to separate schools and saw each other during summer, but even that privilege was taken away. Our families started to bicker over a piece of land, and neither side wanted to give in. We both didn’t want to get involved in the grown-ups’ mess, but neither could we stay neutral. Biker Dude and his siblings stopped visiting me, and my parents subtly let me now that I was not to go to their house para iwas-gulo.
I went to Manila for college and he still stayed in Aklan. In his defense, he couldn’t go to Iloilo or Manila to study not because he was bobo or something. He stayed here partly by choice (school and course) and partly because of their financial situation.
We had no contact during this time; I was afraid his mother would intercept my letter, hence, he couldn’t have known my Metro Manila address. I heard snippets about him through the grapevine (some true, the rest probably exaggerated) and I’m sure he heard stuff about me, too. Kalibo is such a small town. But then again, not small enough for the two of us to bump into each other. Well, until today, anyway.
Imagine my surprise (and delight) when I received a text message from him last December. How he got my number is a long story, and I considered that as an early Christmas gift. Technology is such a wonderful thing, don’t you think? I pounced on my cellphone every time it beeped, hoping it was his name I would see on the screen. I also called him a couple of times (landline lang. He couldn’t call me because somebody else might answer and recognize his voice) and our talks lasted for hours. I was giddy with excitement, partly because we got to talk again after all those years, and partly because we were doing everything without our families’ knowledge (or so we’d like to think).
Then the ultimate thing happened. Text messages and phone conversations just weren’t enough for him. He asked, nay, pleaded with me to meet him in town. We agreed to meet one Sunday afternoon. I was to tell my parents I was going to the new (and only. *sigh*) coffee shop in Kalibo to study Kant (“Kailangan ko ng mala-Starbucks na ambience!”) and he was to tell his boss (he was a few years older and was working already) he was going to buy some things in town. We were planning to meet halfway; he would bring me to the coffee shop aboard his motorcycle so that we could chat. I was about to protest, but he cut me off, telling me he had already foreseen that I would be scared to ride his motorcycle. He was recalling a near-accident I had with a motorcycle when we were still kids. I was touched; he actually remembered that incident when almost everybody else in my family has forgotten. From that moment on, all my doubts and hesitations were swept aside. I had to be with him no matter what.
I couldn’t (and shouldn’t) tell you all the details of our rendezvous. It would be too long, and my life isn’t that public yet. I could tell you, though, that I enjoyed it immensely (again, everything was wholesome), even if the coffee shop was closed and we had to go somewhere else (while riding his bike. Scary!). We settled on dining in Kalibo’s only mall, and we talked and talked and talked. I was again touched because he could still remember that I was always at odds with my father, and that my younger sister and I were never really close. Needless to say, I never got to study Kant, but I’m not complaining. Every minute spent with him was worth the low grade I had for that exam.
I would have wanted to be with him forever, but that wasn’t possible. Night was falling fast and I had to go home. But of course, he couldn’t take me home; my family would kill us. So he just offered to take me to the terminal. We took dimly-lit back streets and alleyways so we couldn’t be seen. And he deliberately drove in circles to prolong the time we spent with each other. It was the most amazing (dare I say it?) date I ever had so far. And the best part of it was the motorcycle ride, which was my first time after that incident. My heart was going thudthudthud because I was afraid we’d have an accident (we didn’t even have helmets on), and because I was sitting so close to him. *kilig kilig*
We couldn’t delay my trip home any longer, and we finally arrived in the terminal. Before I climbed up the multicab, I kissed him on the cheek and told him to be careful. I think that little kiss caught him guard.
We continued sending text messages for a couple of weeks, then it began to dwindle again. I was busy with school and he was also busy with his work. And then I ran into him today. Life has its funny way of surprising us.
Believe me when I say that this, whatever this is, is worse than unrequited love. With the latter, you know where you stand and what to expect. But with Biker Dude, I don’t even know what we have. My mind (and heart) is in a limbo. My instincts (women’s instincts are rarely wrong) are telling me that that he has to feel strongly about me, too, and that he sees me as more than a friend. But I can’t prove this, because the moment we reveal whatever we feel for each other, matters would become really complicated. This is the case where being stuck in the MU stage is so much better than moving to the next level. Another hopeless cause, if you ask me. I have such a pathetic lovelife, don’t you think?
I’m sorry I’m such a long-winded storyteller. I wrote this nearly a month ago, and this is actually the shorter version. Anyway, I don’t know if I still feel the same way about him, though. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I’ve decided to let go of the hopeless causes (Biker Dude, Cutie Pie, etc) and move on. Like the Christmas Wish List I posted here a few months ago, entries like this might help my letting-go-and-moving-on process. I’m hoping that my feelings (whatever they are) would fade away when I see them written in all their sordid glory. Wish me luck.
If you think you know who I’m talking about, guess again. He’s not one of my notorious ex’s (oh, please. Are they still in the picture?), or any of the guys I was linked with back in high school. And this isn’t Cutie Pie either. All the people mentioned above captured only a few moments in my life, so to speak. On the other paw, this guy, who I will fondly call Biker Dude from hereon, takes (notice the present tense) a considerable chunk. And yes, it’s a he.
I knew him ever since I could remember. Biker Dude was a childhood chum, you see, and we were almost brother and sister. He was fun to be with: delightfully naughty and impishly charming. Come to think of it, he was the original bad boy in my life. True, I’ve had a variety of crushes and infatuations during my high school and college years, but closer examination of the more serious ones would show remarkable similarities with Biker Dude. I guess I was unconsciously looking for him each time I meet a guy. It’s as if he was the ideal every guy has to measure up to. And honestly, only one person has ever come close. But let’s not talk about that. I’m out of his picture already.
Some of my closer friends might be surprised with this revelation and wonder why I haven’t told them this before. Well, I only found out about just now myself. I never thought I felt this way about him until recently. Come to think of it, I don’t even know what these feelings are exactly. All I know is that they’re pretty strong.
It was probably our “date” last January that triggered these emotions. I use quotation marks because it wasn’t really a date in the romantic sense, but I don’t know how else to call it. But let me tell you some things about him first. As I’ve mentioned earlier, we were childhood chums and our families were very close. During summer, neighbors like him would come to our house and play with me (wholesome games, you pervert), but I was more drawn to Biker Dude than to any of my playmates.
As we got older, we began to see less and less of each other. I went to high school in Iloilo while he stayed in Aklan. We still maintained contact, albeit erratic, through letters. I keep his letters in a special box. I didn’t realize it then, but he was already special to me.
It was bad enough that we went to separate schools and saw each other during summer, but even that privilege was taken away. Our families started to bicker over a piece of land, and neither side wanted to give in. We both didn’t want to get involved in the grown-ups’ mess, but neither could we stay neutral. Biker Dude and his siblings stopped visiting me, and my parents subtly let me now that I was not to go to their house para iwas-gulo.
I went to Manila for college and he still stayed in Aklan. In his defense, he couldn’t go to Iloilo or Manila to study not because he was bobo or something. He stayed here partly by choice (school and course) and partly because of their financial situation.
We had no contact during this time; I was afraid his mother would intercept my letter, hence, he couldn’t have known my Metro Manila address. I heard snippets about him through the grapevine (some true, the rest probably exaggerated) and I’m sure he heard stuff about me, too. Kalibo is such a small town. But then again, not small enough for the two of us to bump into each other. Well, until today, anyway.
Imagine my surprise (and delight) when I received a text message from him last December. How he got my number is a long story, and I considered that as an early Christmas gift. Technology is such a wonderful thing, don’t you think? I pounced on my cellphone every time it beeped, hoping it was his name I would see on the screen. I also called him a couple of times (landline lang. He couldn’t call me because somebody else might answer and recognize his voice) and our talks lasted for hours. I was giddy with excitement, partly because we got to talk again after all those years, and partly because we were doing everything without our families’ knowledge (or so we’d like to think).
Then the ultimate thing happened. Text messages and phone conversations just weren’t enough for him. He asked, nay, pleaded with me to meet him in town. We agreed to meet one Sunday afternoon. I was to tell my parents I was going to the new (and only. *sigh*) coffee shop in Kalibo to study Kant (“Kailangan ko ng mala-Starbucks na ambience!”) and he was to tell his boss (he was a few years older and was working already) he was going to buy some things in town. We were planning to meet halfway; he would bring me to the coffee shop aboard his motorcycle so that we could chat. I was about to protest, but he cut me off, telling me he had already foreseen that I would be scared to ride his motorcycle. He was recalling a near-accident I had with a motorcycle when we were still kids. I was touched; he actually remembered that incident when almost everybody else in my family has forgotten. From that moment on, all my doubts and hesitations were swept aside. I had to be with him no matter what.
I couldn’t (and shouldn’t) tell you all the details of our rendezvous. It would be too long, and my life isn’t that public yet. I could tell you, though, that I enjoyed it immensely (again, everything was wholesome), even if the coffee shop was closed and we had to go somewhere else (while riding his bike. Scary!). We settled on dining in Kalibo’s only mall, and we talked and talked and talked. I was again touched because he could still remember that I was always at odds with my father, and that my younger sister and I were never really close. Needless to say, I never got to study Kant, but I’m not complaining. Every minute spent with him was worth the low grade I had for that exam.
I would have wanted to be with him forever, but that wasn’t possible. Night was falling fast and I had to go home. But of course, he couldn’t take me home; my family would kill us. So he just offered to take me to the terminal. We took dimly-lit back streets and alleyways so we couldn’t be seen. And he deliberately drove in circles to prolong the time we spent with each other. It was the most amazing (dare I say it?) date I ever had so far. And the best part of it was the motorcycle ride, which was my first time after that incident. My heart was going thudthudthud because I was afraid we’d have an accident (we didn’t even have helmets on), and because I was sitting so close to him. *kilig kilig*
We couldn’t delay my trip home any longer, and we finally arrived in the terminal. Before I climbed up the multicab, I kissed him on the cheek and told him to be careful. I think that little kiss caught him guard.
We continued sending text messages for a couple of weeks, then it began to dwindle again. I was busy with school and he was also busy with his work. And then I ran into him today. Life has its funny way of surprising us.
Believe me when I say that this, whatever this is, is worse than unrequited love. With the latter, you know where you stand and what to expect. But with Biker Dude, I don’t even know what we have. My mind (and heart) is in a limbo. My instincts (women’s instincts are rarely wrong) are telling me that that he has to feel strongly about me, too, and that he sees me as more than a friend. But I can’t prove this, because the moment we reveal whatever we feel for each other, matters would become really complicated. This is the case where being stuck in the MU stage is so much better than moving to the next level. Another hopeless cause, if you ask me. I have such a pathetic lovelife, don’t you think?
I’m sorry I’m such a long-winded storyteller. I wrote this nearly a month ago, and this is actually the shorter version. Anyway, I don’t know if I still feel the same way about him, though. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I’ve decided to let go of the hopeless causes (Biker Dude, Cutie Pie, etc) and move on. Like the Christmas Wish List I posted here a few months ago, entries like this might help my letting-go-and-moving-on process. I’m hoping that my feelings (whatever they are) would fade away when I see them written in all their sordid glory. Wish me luck.
Friday, June 3
pictures
this is long overdue. i've uploaded most of the pictures from my 18th birthday party held in kenny roger's katipunan eons ago. you might want to check it out in my multiply site. and if you want copies (why would anyone want copies?), contact me and we'll see what we can work out. i could snail mail you copies, or you could wait til i get back to manila and we could meet somewhere. let me warn you, though, it might take a long long while so you have to content yourself with this.
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