An Anti-Affirmation

Hey,

I'm sure you know, but I'm not quite sure if you understand. Since I met you two and a half years ago, I have loved no one else. And there may have been a point when I was willing to pick myself up from the insane drudgery I have gotten myself into, but ever since you made it clear that there will be nothing else between us except friendship, all color from this sick, twisted world has drained away and I was left with nothing but a mechanical, metallic aftertaste of what the rest of my life would be.

I suppose I should be grateful for this chance I have been accorded; at least somehow you're still part of my life. I am grateful that you would want to be friends with me. Why should anyone ever refuse an offer of friendship? Of course, it's the selfsame thing that's been rotting away at my insides, but still. In principle, it shouldn't be refused. In the same vein, however, my friends are telling me how selfish you revealed yourself to be, knowing how I feel for you, yet still allowing yourself to draw strength from me even if the only thing I can draw from you is the cold, stale air of a dead-end relationship. And this is where the barbed stem of irony kicks in -- I give whatever it is you need, without expecting anything in return, because it is you who need it. Hilarious.

Another thing. I know that you mean well, pushing me to go back to school to pursue art once again, but what I can't tell you is that I've gone past all of that. Apart from not knowing what it is I really want to do, I have no desire to even find out anymore. Everything I do, I do just to pass the time. I'm not sure if you can understand how lonely that is.

I made a decision two years ago, and it is something I hold on to until now:

A Decision One Makes
Friday, October 6, 2006

All week, I've been thinking if love is a decision one makes, or if one finds oneself in it without knowing? Is there a moment when one stops and breathes, "I am in love?" Or is one already in love, and simply decides whether to continue swimming in that pool of emotion or walk away? Because a week ago I made a decision, and it felt like a seal on me, a firebrand. And on my tongue I could have sworn it tasted a little like dying, when "your life flashes before your eyes." Which it did, my life. Or what's left of it, I suppose.

Margaret Atwood was right. If we knew in advance the consequences of our decisions, we would be doomed and ruined. The irony is that there is triumph in ignorance, and there is tragedy in wisdom. And that tragedy, that hopelessness is maybe what gave me the courage, the stupidity to admit such a truth to myself. I figured I didn't have enough of a life left to lose, so I threw all caution to the wind and gave in. After all, I have always said that I prefer a love like forest fires, like runaway trains. Let me tell you, it doesn't get any more devastating than this. "The more tragic, the better," the song says. Well I'm raising my red flag, and zeroing in for the kill.

This is my decision and my word, whether you accept it or not, whether it sustains me or kills me. You are loved -- by me, by my entire being, and by a force within me so great and terrible I can't even name it. You will never be alone, and you don't ever need to be afraid. I will protect you. And my name, and the rest of my stupid, sad, sorry little life I give you, for all it's worth.

I ask nothing in return. Not your love, for it is yours to give to whomever you choose. Not understanding, when nobody else would -- or rather, is able to. Just maybe... an acceptance. An acknowledgment. A thank you, or a nod my way. Letting me know that you see me, and that you are glad to be living your life happily. If I believe in nothing else, then please let me believe in that.

Overheard at the HR Office

Here's the scenario. Two women in the office whom I look up to -- Ms. G and Ms. M -- were having a conversation. They were talking about a candidate whom Ms. G just finished giving a Job Offer to, and the candidate's sister. The candidate was informed during her initial interview several days ago that we were interested in hiring her sister as well, and it would be great if she can tell her about our company and the openings that we have. She was kind enough to do so, and there was a point during the Job Offer where the conversation went along that vein. When the Offer was done and the candidate left, this is how the conversation between the two women went:

Ms. G: So apparently, Candidate's sister used to work in some company, the same place where that guy we hired last week used to work in as well. Candidate told her sister this, and the sister says, "We have a very small team. What's the name of the guy? Because if that's the guy I know, then I'm not working there. That guy's an idiot."

Ms. M: *blink blink* ... But all women think all men are idiots.

Amen, girlfriend.

The Past Few Weeks

Life had become pretty simple and straightforward the past few weeks. Work during weekdays, then recharge at the Makati house during weekends. I have become very grateful to the little moments of insanity which accentuate some of my days, enough to keep my nerves keen and sharp, reminding me not to get too dull-witted and absent-minded -- things that I am teetering on the edge to be. Despite that, however, at least three times a week I've been tempted to just up and leave -- leave the evil conspiracies familiar to corporations behind, leave the backstabbing and the cruel and the clueless and incompetent, leave everything I have always believed to be corrupted and free of morals -- and finally, finally rein in my errant dreams again and LIVE. But then I am reminded that things aren't that simple, and that I can't afford to stray from this precarious, ribbon-thin path I have recently begun to walk, not until I am sure of my footing, and my future more or less acquires some tangibility I can trust.

I have also learned to become grateful for the moments of lull in between -- moments which I greedily hoard because it is only during such times when I am able to tune out and read again. Such little moments I have found whenever I commute to and from work. Jeepney rides, bus rides, and train rides have become activities which I look forward to doing each day. Being in the middle of a crowd of commuters is, in its own way, more calming and peaceful than any air-conditioned office cubicle. As a matter of fact, the month past has given me enough time to finish three books which I am glad to have purchased -- specifically, the Old Kingdom Trilogy by Garth Nix.


Tomorrow, I start on a new series, The Watch Tetralogy by Sergei Lukyanenko. I am quite sure I will enjoy reading the books, and I can't wait until it introduces a new playground for my imagination to get lost in, much like how the Old Kingdom did when I was reading about it. If it does, and if its pull is strong enough (which I'm sure it is), I'll be sure to write down all about it.

Beautiful Music

Gacked this from steady_lang. One of the more interesting memes around. I'm tagging anyone and everyone who reads this!

1. Go here. The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.


2. Go here. The last four words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.
   
   If you want to do this again, you'll hit refresh to generate new quotes, because clicking the quotes link again will just give you the same quotes over and over again.


3. Go here. Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.


4. Go here. The first ten links you end up in (minus the .coms) are your 10 song titles.

"When You Love Them," by Asturian Language

Our track list:

1. Reach the Sky


2. Offensief


3. Dave Swim


4. HSE Info


5. Union of Concerned Scientists


6. Fair Economy


7. Tao


8. Cherry Harbor


9. Voided Warranty


10. Healthy Skepticism

Progressive Weirdness

This week's theme seems to be "Things Getting Progressively Weirder." Both Hono'o-chan and my boss, Ms. Grace, noticed it. The week kicked off in a relatively normal fashion last Monday. Ms. Grace and I attended this Recruitment event thing at Shangri-La Makati in the afternoon, which was more of an excuse to leave the office early.

Tuesday and maybe three-quarters of Wednesday happened to pass by smoothly, but come Thursday morning, Ms. Grace told us that someone tried to break into their home in Cubao in the middle of the night. They heard a crash and dogs barking, and fortunately, somebody got up in time so no one was hurt. They didn't see who the culprit was, however, so they weren't able to do much.

Clearly I was mistaken, thinking that was the end of that. Friday early morning, around 4:00am at the Boni house, Hono'o-chan woke me up in a panic. Someone threw a rock into their room, shattering the glass windows. Good thing Hono'o-chan was napping downstairs when it happened. It could have been done for whatever reason -- I couldn't care less, to be honest -- but it was just plain moronic. Considering the kind of people residing behind the compound, how can anyone be surprised, really? You know... the kind of neighborhood where people are almost always drunk (or at least, people who sound like they are), where jologs hip-hop music is constantly blaring from speakers at most hours of the day -- and most hours of the night -- people who your mother make you stay away from.

Honestly, there are a lot of things I want to say, but I'm afraid I might sound more judgmental than I already am, and towards people whom I don't really know. Pero pucha naman kasi. Ibang level na 'to eh. Kung sabihin kong mag-isip naman sana sila, I hope no one takes it against me.

Sigh, anyway, about the only thing we can do that morning was take pictures, so take pictures we did:


The view of the room. That's the rock at the foot of the bed, the glass shard, and bits of glasses on the floor.


One evil-looking shard of glass.


A disturbing image. That's the side where Hono'o-chan usually sleeps! Also, what if it were a child!


The nasty-looking rock.

Birthday Eve

Let's let the photos do the talking this time.


At Tokyo Tokyo in Shangri-La. That's Ron in the background.



Hono'o-chan, making kitchen magic.



Vegetables and roast chicken, recipe adapted from the Barefoot Contessa.



Close up shot of the veggies, with olive oil and herbs.



Chicken! Three words: nom nom nom.

I've Sunk To A New Low

If you see a tall, jumpy guy in Greenhills at about, say, 3pm or 4pm tomorrow, handing out flyers and talking to Muslim store-owners if they can speak Arabic and if they would like to pursue an exciting career in the call center industry, it's probably either me or my officemate, J.

Feel free to say hi or offer a hug, and maybe an assurance that there is a bright future ahead of me. I won't believe you, but a friendly face and a warm hug will always make me feel better. Throw in a donut if you're feeling especially sympathetic.

You Don't Bring Me Anything But Down

And because things have been moving towards another transition, with changes in our daily routine occurring irregularly, I ended up having lunch with you. Normally it would have been fine. I would not have minded. I would not even have thought of it at all. Today, however, was different.

You were talking as you'd always done, and I was listening, although I hadn't noticed this time I was doing so more intently than I should have. I suppose you can say it was the first time I'd ever heard you actually speak. How lonely you sounded beneath the hollow shell of fantasies you'd built around your soft core. What's even sadder, was that I think you couldn't even hear your inner self talking anymore. I was looking at you, words floating out from your mouth and evaporating into the atmosphere mere centimeters from your skin. Everything -- every lie -- was thin and shapeless and empty.

On one hand I wanted to shout at you, try to break through that phantasm blanketing your person. I wanted to claw at you right then and there, hurt you, stab you with the fork in my left hand. "Can you hear yourself talking?!" But I think even if I shouted at the top of my lungs, you wouldn't -- couldn't -- hear me anyway. The walls you'd built were too thick; your life, too numbingly pristine. I stabbed at the lone slice of pork on my plate instead.

On the other hand, I thought of trying a different approach. I would look at you straight in the eye, and tell you in a voice not unlike the low rustle of trees at midnight how, the contrast apparent from your secure and sheltered lifestyle, I live everyday in constant fear of losing my job. How each minute, I force-feed into my mind the thought that I have to, have to, have to survive without having to rely on anyone for anything. How terribly unjust and uncompromising circumstances can be at the most inconvenient of times, and how I only put up with it just because. I wanted you to hear me, hoping it would be a catalyst for your long-overdue introspection.

I did neither. Instead, I let out a long, heavy exhale. I pushed my plate aside, nodded at some long-drawn opinion you had about something or other, bit my lip, and swallowed hard. I felt a solid, metallic clunk at the pit of my stomach. I'm not having lunch here tomorrow.

The Day The World Made Sense

Despite the fact that I had to wake up at 6 in the morning to get to the office early to pick up the check for my cash loan, the day turned out pretty well. Thank the gods for Vacation Leaves. It's a good thing I expected the worst regarding renewing my NBI Clearance. There was a long queue when I got to Park Square Makati at around 11, but it wasn't so bad. Gave me time to finish reading a couple of stories from Haruki Murakami's Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman -- a book that's taken longer than usual for me to finish reading. After the people over at the renewal booth confirmed my squeaky clean record once again, I sauntered over to the bank where I was supposed to have my check encashed -- a couple of blocks from Greenbelt -- and waited about 40 minutes (or another Blind Willow story) to get everything done.

By 1, I was practically free. I was thinking whether I should still report for work, even if it would only count as half a day, or if I should go to the Makati house for a visit instead. I walked around the park along Gamboa, and maybe it was the way the afternoon sun streamed through the trees and the nostalgia it washed me with, but it didn't take long for me to make a decision. I called up my boss and asked her if I could take the rest of the day off.

I stayed at the Makati house for the rest of the afternoon, helping Josh with his homework and teaching him how to write his g's and e's properly. Napped for about an hour until 5, which was when my mother got home. We talked for a bit, then had an early dinner. Left at around 6 with promises of going back on Saturday, then decided to walk around Greenbelt again and browse around Powerbooks first before heading to the Boni house.

Right now I'm resting and doing my dailies online. I have never felt this good in such a long time. I hope the Universe realizes I'm not asking for much. Just more days like this, please, and I will be very grateful.

Long, Slow Slide

Outside your window the circus crackles
and lurches with rings of smoke.
You laugh halfheartedly at the punchline
not realizing they've made you the joke.
Inside my heart a war is raging
in regions still untamed.
The worst fear I can imagine
is for the mystery to be named.

A Long Slow Slide, Jewel

Sunday afternoon, cats are all sleeping, and the Bunniez are out. I'm in the middle of a long weekend, and no plans have been shaping up as of yet. First two weeks of semi-independence have taken off smoothly, work still keeps people viciously high-strung, but the routinary activity can be somewhat comforting.

In a couple of weeks, I will be in my early late twenties. Probably the most useful philosophy I have learned thus far is to just let everything slide into place, and not resist so much. I think I have said "that's fine with me" often enough these past few years that where I am now has become a sum of benign apathy and pacifism.

I am not particularly sad, nor am I happy; I've found that both emotions have become quite tedious -- sometimes even terribly cumbersome -- that it's better just to settle for a snug, quiet place in the emotional middle.

Anyway, I might be sleeping in a bit. Maybe finish this book I've been reading for a couple of weeks now. Tonight, I might go out for dinner. It's a long, slow slide down, but that's fine with me.