Disclaimer: If you hate to hear/read me griping, do yourself a favor and move away from this post. Don’t give me the pleasure of giving you a headache.
I’m so f*cking depressed that I could feel all the violence fighting to get out of me. I want to hurt something, or even someone. I want to inflict the worst pain possible and with utmost glee. And with my bare hands. I don’t care if they send me to prison or something like that. I’m a depressed person so I plead temporary (hell, even permanent) insanity.
Actually, I was about to say that I’m depressed that I want to kill myself, but I fear God above all else. I heard people who commit suicide have a special place in hell. Besides, I’m already finished with the stage in my life when I was so fascinated about seeing a knife enter my flesh. The knife would make its way through the skin, going deeper, and then the blood would slowly seep out of the wound. But I’m not suicidal, mind you. I just have masochistic tendencies. (Ha! That’s an understatement.)
Anyway, my life is in shambles. My roommates hate me because I sleep through my alarm (which goes on and on for two hours. Aargh, I need a yaya to take care of me.). My best friend thinks I’m pathetic and self-centered, which are true, but you would’ve expected her not to rub it in, especially when I just broke up with someone. And the thing is, don’t we all have degrees of self-centeredness and being pathetic? My parents expect too much from me; it’s as if they want me to do the things they failed to do while they were younger. I bet that given the chance, they would live my life for me. Nobody could understand me, and I seem to waste everything I have: time, money, friendships, romantic relationships, even my body (you should see how thin I am now. No, I don’t take illegal drugs, you bitter envious people. My drugs of choice are nicotine and antacid. Kremil-S is already bubblegum-flavored. Yum.). My study habits (whatever’s left of them) give me terrible results, and I actually perform better on my exams when I don’t study. I have the worst sleeping pattern: narcoleptic by day and insomniac by night. Even my org offers no respite for me. How I miss Elmo, but then we’ve already established that iniiwan ako ng lahat ng mahal ko sa buhay. PUNYETA!
Please don’t give me that crap about how I should consider myself luckier than others. Of course I know that I’m better off than, say, women in some patriarchal (read: chauvinist) societies, where they are treated as second class citizens. I’m better off than kids my age in other less-developed countries where they can’t post in their blogs (They don’t even have computers, for crying out loud!) about how they are forced to do back-breaking work instead of letting them go to school. I’m better off than the college students decades ago when the writ of habeas corpus was suspended. But then again, I DON’T GIVE A DAMN. We all have shit to put up with, and patience is not one of my virtues. We’re humans, baby. If you prick us, do we not bleed? Or whatever Shakespeare said.
(And all that bullshit about being men- and women-for-others that Ateneo is feeding her students is just that: bullshit. Sorry, St Ignatius, that mantra probably worked in your time, but it’s gasgas already. How can you even strive to become a person-for-others when you see unscrupulous people scream “Every man for himself!” and then proceed to grab everything you have. Kalimutan na kinalimutan mo ang sarili mo para sa kapwa? Forget about it.)
I know that things don’t always go as we planned, but this is ridiculous. Several things turning differently I could accept, but this is my WHOLE life we’re talking about. It’s a movie with the cast and crew gone berserk. Time is such a naughty imp, spinning its yarn so fast I’m getting motion sickness already. “Come back! Come back!” I helplessly call after all the moments I have wasted.
I wish I could turn back time. Or at least have enough foresight so I would know the things that would embarrass me and/or make me suffer in the future. Minsan kasi hindi ko na pinag-iisipan mga ginagawa ko. I’m sick and tired of the uncertainty of everything. You might say, isn’t that the beauty of it? Yeah, if you’re the type who wants to be unpleasantly surprised even on your birthday.
Can somebody please bonk me on the head? Except you, Lorie. I know you really want to, but you might bonk me to comatose. Bonk, green-minded people, not boink. I could see Lorie imagining herself, wielding a humongous baseball bat over my head, “This is for being so pathetic; stop living in the past, loser! This is for being so self-centered; you’re not the only one suffering, eediot! This is for giving in to your lesbian tendencies; can you get any more desperate than that!?” And you can’t ask Andie or Jace to do that either. Plus, no divine intervention, please. That’s not fair.
Do I even sound coherent at all? Actually, I just realized that I could write better when I’m depressed. But when I’m inspired, I write worthless pieces of shit. See how weird I am? *sigh* bottom line is, my life is hurtling to the depths of despair, and I’m starting to come undone. Anyone out there with Messianic tendencies who wants to rescue me? Lesbian applicants also accepted.
Wednesday, August 18
Thursday, August 12
shopping and *ahem* boys
Shopping for clothes can be likened to our experience with guys. We girls insist on trying on stuff we very well know can’t afford, much like our falling for guys (or girls for the gender-confused like me) we can’t have… just for the heck of it.
Sometimes, when desperate enough, we settle for the second, third or even the fourth best because (1) we really can’t afford the best or the new arrivals, (2) they were the only ones left for us, and/or (3) they were on sale and we want to take advantage of that.
In addition, the stuff we have been coveting for for ages, however affordable it is, might already be sold out, ergo, taken.
Chancing upon a great catch is indeed a lucky break. Like spotting a tank top that flatters your figure and seems to go with almost every skirt or pair of pants you have in the closet. You fervently hope it would last forever, or at least, long enough for the price to be sulit. You also pray to the goddesses of fashion that this particular top would outwit and outplay the fads in fashion, and survive the quirks and fickleness of its worst enemy: you.
However, there are cases when you have finally settled on something (or someone, whatever context you’re in) and decided to call it your own, you might find out too late that it wasn’t as great as you imagined it to be. It might have looked perfect in the flattering mirror of the fitting room and with the enthusiastic fawning of the sales gay, but back in the real world, the flaws rear their ugly heads. Its color doesn’t really complement your skin tone, it makes you look fat, its fabric gets itchy after some time, you can’t match it with most of your wardrobe so you need to buy new clothes to go with it, or, horrors, there’s a tear in the seams that you have missed.
You begin to wonder what could have been had you chosen the khaki pants, simple and boring yet classic, instead of the low-waist jeans with sequins that you now have, daring and sexy but, in retrospect, has the makings of a mere flash in the pan. And the time comes when the fad for the sequined jeans is over, or when you no longer fit in them. At this point, you either try to change its design to keep up with the new fad, or send it to the seamstress for alteration to keep up with your waistline. If these attempts fail, your pair of jeans finds itself stuffed at the back of your closet or in a bag among other hand-me-downs. Either way, both you and your pair of jeans must accept that change is inevitable.
This is a very difficult thing to do. “Sayang. I only got to wear it for such a short time,” you might say about your sequined jeans. Then you try to philosophize, “But I have no use for it now.” And on your favorite tank top you’ve had for ages: “Gosh, I like this one pa sana, but it’s so worn out already. I’ll use this as my pantulog na lang.” Sooner or later you would realize that you have to break off any connection between the two of you, or try to remain friends. And you would do what you have left to do: sigh and move on.
Following the separation, you probably would decide to rest for some time. After all, you are pretty much content with the rest of your clothes. You window shop once in a while, lingering in your favorite stores, indulging yourself to walk into the more expensive shops just for the heck of it. You allow yourself to wander into the fitting room with some clothes, but never quite committing yourself to one particular item.
Then something catches your eye. It might be an item you’ve overlooked in your previous trips, or a new arrival. Either way, you start to think, is this pink skirt worth its price? Will its embroidered hem go well with my other clothes? Is this the one or will there be something better waiting for me in the next store? You think long and hard, trying not to let the sales gay sweet talk his way into your wallet, or to be distracted by your aching feet (and tired heart). You tell yourself that you could come back later, when you’re absolutely certain that you want that skirt. But there’s this nagging feeling that it might not be there anymore.
When you finally make up your mind on whether to take the skirt now or come back for it later, or even whether or not you want that skirt at all, you realize that in either aspect of your life, shopping or boys, you would always have to take risks. You face the sales gay and announce which risk you are going to take. And the cycle continues.
Sometimes, when desperate enough, we settle for the second, third or even the fourth best because (1) we really can’t afford the best or the new arrivals, (2) they were the only ones left for us, and/or (3) they were on sale and we want to take advantage of that.
In addition, the stuff we have been coveting for for ages, however affordable it is, might already be sold out, ergo, taken.
Chancing upon a great catch is indeed a lucky break. Like spotting a tank top that flatters your figure and seems to go with almost every skirt or pair of pants you have in the closet. You fervently hope it would last forever, or at least, long enough for the price to be sulit. You also pray to the goddesses of fashion that this particular top would outwit and outplay the fads in fashion, and survive the quirks and fickleness of its worst enemy: you.
However, there are cases when you have finally settled on something (or someone, whatever context you’re in) and decided to call it your own, you might find out too late that it wasn’t as great as you imagined it to be. It might have looked perfect in the flattering mirror of the fitting room and with the enthusiastic fawning of the sales gay, but back in the real world, the flaws rear their ugly heads. Its color doesn’t really complement your skin tone, it makes you look fat, its fabric gets itchy after some time, you can’t match it with most of your wardrobe so you need to buy new clothes to go with it, or, horrors, there’s a tear in the seams that you have missed.
You begin to wonder what could have been had you chosen the khaki pants, simple and boring yet classic, instead of the low-waist jeans with sequins that you now have, daring and sexy but, in retrospect, has the makings of a mere flash in the pan. And the time comes when the fad for the sequined jeans is over, or when you no longer fit in them. At this point, you either try to change its design to keep up with the new fad, or send it to the seamstress for alteration to keep up with your waistline. If these attempts fail, your pair of jeans finds itself stuffed at the back of your closet or in a bag among other hand-me-downs. Either way, both you and your pair of jeans must accept that change is inevitable.
This is a very difficult thing to do. “Sayang. I only got to wear it for such a short time,” you might say about your sequined jeans. Then you try to philosophize, “But I have no use for it now.” And on your favorite tank top you’ve had for ages: “Gosh, I like this one pa sana, but it’s so worn out already. I’ll use this as my pantulog na lang.” Sooner or later you would realize that you have to break off any connection between the two of you, or try to remain friends. And you would do what you have left to do: sigh and move on.
Following the separation, you probably would decide to rest for some time. After all, you are pretty much content with the rest of your clothes. You window shop once in a while, lingering in your favorite stores, indulging yourself to walk into the more expensive shops just for the heck of it. You allow yourself to wander into the fitting room with some clothes, but never quite committing yourself to one particular item.
Then something catches your eye. It might be an item you’ve overlooked in your previous trips, or a new arrival. Either way, you start to think, is this pink skirt worth its price? Will its embroidered hem go well with my other clothes? Is this the one or will there be something better waiting for me in the next store? You think long and hard, trying not to let the sales gay sweet talk his way into your wallet, or to be distracted by your aching feet (and tired heart). You tell yourself that you could come back later, when you’re absolutely certain that you want that skirt. But there’s this nagging feeling that it might not be there anymore.
When you finally make up your mind on whether to take the skirt now or come back for it later, or even whether or not you want that skirt at all, you realize that in either aspect of your life, shopping or boys, you would always have to take risks. You face the sales gay and announce which risk you are going to take. And the cycle continues.
tonight i can write by pablo neruda
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write for example, 'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to a pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
- Pablo Neruda
Can you just feel the overwhelming sadness in the poem? "Love is short, forgetting is so long." *sigh* I just wish I took up Spanish instead of Japanese as my foreign language. Poems are much much better when read in their original language. Spanish could be oh-so-romantic, English so... bland (for the lack of a better term). Don't get me wrong, I like reading and writing in English, but there might be some nuances lost in translation.
Hmm... is there anybody out there who has the CD of Pablo Neruda's poems recited by big stars like Sean Penn, Andy Garcia and Madonna? Can I please please pwetty pwetty please borrow it? I'll give you a big hug if you'd let me. ;p
Write for example, 'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to a pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
- Pablo Neruda
Can you just feel the overwhelming sadness in the poem? "Love is short, forgetting is so long." *sigh* I just wish I took up Spanish instead of Japanese as my foreign language. Poems are much much better when read in their original language. Spanish could be oh-so-romantic, English so... bland (for the lack of a better term). Don't get me wrong, I like reading and writing in English, but there might be some nuances lost in translation.
Hmm... is there anybody out there who has the CD of Pablo Neruda's poems recited by big stars like Sean Penn, Andy Garcia and Madonna? Can I please please pwetty pwetty please borrow it? I'll give you a big hug if you'd let me. ;p
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