Archive for July, 2008

Tagged Again

July 30, 2008

Got tagged again, this time by the Queen Gambit. My answers to her questions:

1. What was I doing 10 years ago?

Junior high school. That is all I remember. High school was a particularly traumatic phase of my young life so I’d rather not reminisce about it.

2. What are the 5 things on my to-do list today?

1. Sleep
2. Sleep some more
3. Try to introduce some semblance of order in my shitpit of a room
4. Scour the internet for employment opportunities
5. Venture out of the house for the first time (?)

3. Snacks I enjoy:

Not a big fan of snacking. My personal food philosophy dictates that I am only allowed to have two (three, on a good day) big meals a day, and no snacks in between. However, I make exceptions when the snacks in question are actually hard to resist. I hardly say no to cheese corn chips (Doritos…yummmmm), fruit cups, Lindt milk chocolate, my friend’s Food for the gods…I have to stop now.

4. Places where I lived:

– Rizal (all my life)
– Madrid (one month)
– Reggio Calabria (three months)
– Sydney (a year and a half)

5. Things I’d do if I were a billionaire (Did I win the lottery?):

1. Put some money away in savings.
2. Travel like there’s no tomorrow.
3. Hire a personal chef/masseuse.
4. Set up a massive home theatre in my new home.
5. Share some of the windfall to family, househelp and very close friends.
6. Rest will go to my favourite charities (Greenpeace, Doctors without Borders, Amnesty International, WWF, UNICEF, Operation Smile, etc).


Farewells are draining

July 22, 2008

The packing is killing me. Sorting out all my uni paperwork is a gargantuan task and getting my finances in order is a big bitch. Fifteen million things on my to-do list. Then there’s explaining to my boss that I broke her transcribing machine and left the last interview unfinished. I probably would not have enough time to do my Bondi to Coogee walk and go back to my favourite museums. I wouldn’t have enough time to say goodbye to everyone either. That, or THEY wouldn’t have enough time. This day alone so many people have cancelled I’ve already lost count. I moved heaven and earth to keep tonight free so I can have a nice dinner at home and spend quality time with someone I particularly wanted to bid farewell to, then I get that disappointing phone call. Story of my life. I think I should just spare myself the agony and just get on the plane without going through all that farewell jazz. I was never good with goodbyes anyway. My heart rips into tiny little shreds every single time. Note to self: do not get attached to people and places again.

Holiday from myself

July 15, 2008

If my current state of mind were a song, it would be that obscure one by an equally obscure band called Minibar. It’s so obscure that I think there’s only five people in the world who know it. It’s basically about someone wanting to have a holiday from himself, asking for “some time away from being me”. Well, isn’t that precious? It even feels as if I wrote the song myself. I googled the lyrics and the last bit is totally reflective of my emotional state at the moment. I seriously need a holiday from myself. I’m so sick of being me.

You who never arrived

July 14, 2008

You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don’t even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of the next
moment. All the immense
images in me– the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities, towers, and bridges, and unsuspected
turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods-
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.

You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house–, and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me.
Streets that I chanced upon,–
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled,
gave back my too-sudden image. Who knows?
perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening…


July 14, 2008

I amaze myself at how unbelievably stupid I could be sometimes. The last couple of days I have proven to myself that I am truly capable of sinking to the depths of extreme stupidity, it’s not even funny. Now some relationships are strained, and it is entirely of my own doing.

To speak or not speak

July 5, 2008

My mother tells me that I started to speak earlier than most infants. Everyone in my family attests to this fact actually, and my dad even has the audio tapes to prove how irritatingly loquacious I was as a child. My mom recalls how frustrated she was that I just would not shut up while she was pregnant with my younger brother and I would keep following her around, bombarding her with my annoying questions.

My parents took such great pride in my talkativeness that they would let me mingle with their adult friends all the time. Thus I grew up always having adult conversations with actual adults. At a tender young age, I already discovered how wonderful it was to engage in verbal calisthenics.

At some stage in my adolescent years though, I just decided to not talk. I thought it might be more fun to keep to myself and only really speak to friends I felt comfortable with. Once in high school, a teacher had to sit my mom down and informed her how I never spoke a word in class while I would hand in pretty decent written work. My mom then asked me how this could be possible when, growing up, I was such an irrepressible and argumentative kid.

In college, I reverted to my former self. I was still painfully shy but I did try to be as sociable as I can. I was the president of an organisation and this role involved lots and lots of talking, and I think I did fairly okay. I made plenty of acquaintances, but my real and true friends were just a handful. I always preferred to operate that way.

I’m in my mid-twenties now and I’m as silent as ever. Last year I think was my worst year in talking. As a result, I met less people, and the few people I did meet got to know me at a highly superficial level. I just lost faith in words and talking. But more than anything, I guess I just became overly wary of people.

I remember how I spent most of last year by myself, in my room. I was leading a loser lifestyle extraordinaire. I hardly spoke in class, but if it would make a huge difference in my grade, I would. I became very business-like with classmates. I would study in my room, go to class, run back home, stay in my room again. Wash, rinse, repeat.

One night while walking home from a late evening class, I was about to cross the street. The red pedestrian light was flashing and I attempted to make a run for it. I stopped in midstep though, and I realised that I was such a moron for wanting to rush home just so I could lock myself up in my room again.

Late in the second semester of last year, I began to have some semblance of normalcy again in my life. I started to slowly talk to people again and drum roll please…make new friends. It’s amazing how the few good friends that I have at the moment all made the heroic first move to befriend my pathetic self. A friend told me that I seemed like such a colossal snob and that I really gave off the vibe that I wanted to be left alone, but he still took it upon himself to try very hard to smash my wall of ice. I’m happy he did.

I still adopt a policy of silence when I hang out with people I barely know, but once I get comfy with someone, I surely can unleash a mouthful. I like being quiet and reserved. It gives me a chance to observe people more keenly and prevent myself from saying empty and stupid things. And isn’t listening so much more fun since it involves far less energy compared to talking?