Archive for the ‘Makes-Me-Wonder Moments’ Category

Definitions

Posted: September 6, 2013 in Makes-Me-Wonder Moments

Nowadays, you don’t have to “spend time” with a person to know them. For basic information such as their likes, hobbies, dislikes and favorites can be accessed in just a click. Through social networking sites, such as Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and certain blogging sites, you can know so much about a person—well, you can at least know them by the surface. There are still, of course, a lot of things—especially secrets and certain sides of people you didn’t expect them to have—you would only find out upon hanging out or actually spending time with people. But my point is, because of our online profiles, we give even mere strangers so much information about ourselves; we give them an idea as to what kind of person we are. Which got me thinking. With all my previous posts on the Internet, what kind of image am I giving to people? What are the things that define me as a person based on the Internet? What are my labels?

With all the self-reassessment, what defines me as person based on my Internet posts are the following:

  1. A Solid How I Met Your Mother Fan

This label I am proud of. Yup. Guilty as charged; I’m a solid HIMYM fan. Now that the ninth and final season is coming up, my Facebook posts are roughly 80% How I Met Your Mother related. The other 20% goes to statuses, memes, school announcements and other cool stuff I find on the net.  I really, really love the show. It’s not like most comedies—this one actually has a lot of heart into it. This label would be an accurate in real life as well. Ask my friends and family. I have copies of all the episodes, including behind the scenes videos—and I can’t go two days without watching an episode. It’s like I have to have a daily dose of HIMYM. I watch it so much I’m close to memorizing episode titles, and if you give me random scenes, I can tell you which episode and which season it came from. I make references to the show; I apply some of the rules, lessons and philosophies in real life; I can quote lines in verbatim—I’m that addicted to How I Met Your Mother! And proud of it. Haha.

  1. A Hunger Games Fan

Amongst my posts, the one that has the second greatest number would be Hunger Games related. Well, I also admit to being a Hunger Games fan. I appreciated the books, it’s actually the first trilogy I actually finished reading. And I’m the type of person that abandons a book once it gets boring, but I held on to this series. Well, I do admit that Mockingjay was too long and was getting dull, but still great just the same. I also make references to the books, relating the Hunger Games culture to some instances of school life. (My blockmates will know what I mean. Haha.) And I’m excited for the upcoming movie: Catching Fire. I actually made a deal with my thesis group that we would finish the thesis on or before November 22nd, which is a day before Catching Fire premieres here in the Philippines. Yeah. I don’t want any distractions while watching the film. It’ll be my reward to myself for finishing the thesis. I’m planning to watch it on IMAX. But before that, I had to face schoolwork.  And so I say: may the odds be ever in our favor. Haha.

  1. A Girl with Issues on Her Weight and Appearance

My rants and posts falling under this category all in my Twitter account. Yeah, once things get personal, I tend to put it on Twitter. Too many watching eyes on Facebook, seriously. So, uh, yeah. Issues about weight and appearance. Hmmm. I dunno what people are thinking whenever they see me post like that. I dunno if they feel pity or if they feel like I’m seeking attention. Let me put it this way, then. I really don’t feel good about myself. I’m the type of person who isn’t comfortable with their skin. Yeah, some people re-assure me that I’m talented and skilled. But in most days, I don’t find that comforting.  Most people will only look at you by the surface. And what they will see when they look at me is a fat unattractive girl. These issues had something to do with my Daddy issues. I grew up being compared to my cousins who were damn right beautiful and sexy—and I still experience this phenomenon till now. Occasionally. Even if I work so hard to be above them when it comes to grades, talents and skills, I still hear my Dad rant. Why couldn’t be more like your cousins who wouldn’t dare go out without fixing themselves in the mirror? Well, excuse me for thinking there’s more to life than just looking good. …Well, I think that clears this item. You get the point.

  1. A Girl with Serious Daddy Issues (and Issues with Men in General)

Okay, so this one is all in Twitter. Seriously, Twitter—other than this blog and occasional talks with by best friend—is my only outlet. If I don’t rant on Twitter, I think I’ll explode. So I apologize to my Twitter followers for having to read my frequent rant tweets about men and a certain man whom I despise. But I really need to let it out.

Dad has been… really difficult. Other than the constant insults, I can’t stand his attitude. And I really can’t get over the fact that he… repeatedly… well… yeah. I admit that I have serious Daddy issues that led me to almost being a man-hater. Well, I don’t hate men. I just hate men who are like him. Men who would do that. What my Dad did got me scared of relationships, scared of trusting men. I came the point that I don’t think I can get married without a pre-nup, just to be safe.

I am trying to change my relationship with him, I really am. It’s just so difficult. But, like all difficult things, they’re doable. I don’t want to be the girl with Daddy issues forever. I’ll get over this stage eventually. I just need to find a way to forgive him. No matter how stupid, obnoxious and douch-ee he may be.

 

Hmm.  I guess I was giving people a clear image of me. At least an image of what on the surface. But still, they don’t know my entirety,  nor the deeper story about some of my posts. So I guess it’s still a good thing

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It was that time of the year again.

It was the day wherein roses and flowers were everywhere and chocolates come in special packages and cheaper prices. It was the day wherein restaurants and even fast food chains are nearly full.  It was the day wherein parks and amusement parks are a little more crowded. It was the day wherein more and more annoying couples are out on broad daylight. It was the day boys are panicking and rushing to the stores and it was the day that girls would dress up and look a little more pleasant than usual. The day wherein there’ll be music, surprises and, later on, tears of joy.  The day wherein every relationship seems okay.

Most people call it Valentine’s Day. Some call it Hearts Day. People living in the same city as me would call it Paranaque Day. I call it a Thursday.

It’s not that I’m bitter or anything. It’s not that I hate being single today, either. It’s just that this day annoys the crap out of me.

Seeing couples holding hands in public is bearable, but the mere act of kissing, hugging, and walking ever so slowly in public is just infuriating. Some things are not meant to be done in public. Some people would want to enjoy the open space, you know? Go flirt somewhere else where no one can see you, damn it. And today, that ever annoying sight multiplies tenfold. Right now, as I sit in the mall’s food court, it’s like 7 out of 10 tables are occupied by couples. Couples who are just… ugh.

They’re in love, I get it. But seriously. It’s like they can’t get enough of each other. Can’t they spend a minute apart? I mean, is it really necessary to cuddle each other in the train or in the bus? Do they really have the liberty to kiss and peck each other whenever they feel like doing it just because they’re a couple? Geez.

Again, I’m not bitter. I’m happy that people find someone who understands them and all, but seriously, if these couples could show less affection in public, that would make the world a better place.

I admire people who find each other, I really do. Those who have been together for years and are planning to get engaged are very lucky people, and I salute them for having the courage to take such a big step. I have always had this special fascination for old couples, knowing that they’ve been through so much and yet they still chose to stay with each other; they lived up to the promise that says “for better or for worse.”

So, on this so-called Thursday, I’m both happy and irritated by the fact that “love is in the air”. Geez. I hope I’m not having bipolar tendencies.

A friend of mine told me yesterday that in our group, I was the hopeless romantic. I threw at her a bucket full of denial. Why would it be me? I don’t want an ideal relationship, and I’m not hoping for a perfect one ‘cause I’ve seen the reality: promises are not always kept and that thing you feel called “love” can be as temporary as the thickness of your wallet.

Am I a hopeless romantic? No. Not really. Well, maybe a little. No. No. I can’t be hopeless romantic—a little frustrated when it comes to romance, maybe. But not hopeless romantic. I hope.

I never really minded the fact that I’m single nor the fact that I haven’t had any suitors for some time. But lately, it’s starting to get to me. It’s all going back to my confidence issues. Maybe the reason why no one is interested in me is because I have extra weight, maybe because I don’t “dress up” and put on make-up unless it’s necessary, maybe because I don’t let my defenses down. Maybe because I come on too strong. Maybe because I’m intimidating. Maybe because I’m not beautiful enough.

One of those has got to be it. Probably. My bet is on the last reason. The way I see it, most guys look for pretty girls or whomsoever they think is pleasing to the eyes. I have some friends whose beauty you won’t notice upfront, but then became a lot more “lady-like” after some time. Their wardrobe improved, their skin got fairer and whiter, their face cleared up, they maintained a good figure… they have grown to be a lot more beautiful over the past few years. And now, well, the results were evident. One already has a boyfriend for over a year, and the other one has two or three suitors eating out of her hands.

I wonder if such a thing can ever happen to me. Even if I decide to “grow up” and be more “lady-like,” will it end up like the way that it did for them? Besides, who would be interested in someone like me? I’d sometimes ponder on the thought.

Most of the people will spend this day with their so-called “special someone,” while I’ll be spending it with clients, friends and family. It doesn’t sound so bad, does it?

I wonder if things will be different next year. I wonder if in the next February 14th, I’ll experience the sweet taste of chocolates and the faint fragrance of the roses.

Maybe I should stop wondering.

From 4 p.m. of January 22 to 9 p.m. of January 23, I was awake—wide awake. For the first time in my life, I’ve been awake for 29 hours straight; it was the longest day of my life. And quite frankly, this is probably one of the longest posts I’ll ever write.

The experience was awesome and yet, awful. All day, I’ve been in a quite confusing state of mentality and physicality. It’s as if I’m in the state wherein you can’t determine if you’re having a bad hangover or if you’re still drunk. I was gonna say, “it feels as if you’re high,” but I have no idea how that feels like—and I have no intention of knowing—so I’m going with ‘in-the-middle-of-being-drunk-and-hung-over.’

This all started on the 22nd. I woke up at 4 in the afternoon because of going to bed so late… or early: 3 a.m. I spent the afternoon watching television, eating, browsing the net, then mostly, watching How I Met Your Mother (HIMYM) episodes in my laptop. I usually watch HIMYM up to 2 a.m. tops, but without knowing and being too caught up in finishing season 5, I didn’t notice it was already 5:30 in the morning. Oh crap. If I hadn’t set an alarm, then I wouldn’t be knocked back to my senses. I have to go get ready for school.

And so the epic experience of being awake for hours began.

This was the first time I’m ever going to school without any sleep. Sure, I did some papers and projects that are due in a few hours, but I made sure I get some shut-eye even if it’s just for two hours or even 30 minutes. But to go to school without any sleep? This will be the very first time (and hopefully the last).

Like I said, it felt as if I was in the middle of being drunk and hung over.

Everything seemed to move in a slower pace, and thus, you get to notice every small detail of the things you look at. Like the pink plain silky blouse that woman, who sat across the jeepney, was wearing. The way smoke came out of the mouths of students when I passed through Antonio St., popularly known as “Smoker’s Lane” (it was not a pretty sight). How that Commerce girl, sitting across the shuttle, looks a lot like the girl my ex dated a few weeks after graduation. The way a street vendor picks up a not-so-clean block of ice and puts in in the cooler. The cross necklace a random student was wearing. The purple headphones that girl in the hall had. How ketchup touched the surface of the French fry I was about to eat… etcetera.

That constant headache. The empty feeling you feel that it’s as if you’re dreaming. In the back of your mind, you’re worried that you might black out any second. I almost got hit by a car. I literally kept on bumping into random people. I was not walking straight. I feel my arms and other body parts going numb. You feel like a mindless zombie, your body moving on its own, and you’re there wondering how in the world did you made it to your destination, which in this case, school. You feel that you won’t remember anything you did later on. (I actually wrote a couple of these down that day) Suddenly your body hurts in random places, especially my left shoulder (but how it got that way, is again, another story). Everything seemed amplified that’s why you can’t nap even if you want to. There’s the shaking of your hands, the chills. The fact that you can’t stop talking… or laughing. And the worst part is, like being drunk or hung over, you remember you issues and feel bad for yourself.

Because HIMYM season 5 showed a lot of their daddy issues—like Marshall’s dad dying, Lily’s dad not being there for her, Robin never being good enough for her dad and Barney not knowing his dad then later knowing who he is but he rejected him—it led me to think about my own issues with my dad. It got me thinking: what would I feel if my dad was to die so soon? Would I cry? Would I even feel bad? I always convinced myself that I don’t need him, that if he was to be gone, it wouldn’t make much of a difference because it was mom who was carrying the burden of keeping the family alive all these years. But now that I think about it, maybe I will care if that were to happen. I mean, after all, he’s still my dad. Back then, when everything was a little less complicated, I used to look up to him. He used to be the number one man in my life; he used to be my hero. But now, because of all the disgusting revelations about him, I began to grow hate for him. Sigh. Maybe it’s time to let go of all that hate and resentment. I did notice that, in his own way and little by little, he is trying to make it up to us—especially to mom. I notice that he tries to come home at least once a day and spend some time with us, and when he comes home he is usually very sweet to mom. Yeah, maybe it’s time to let go and finally forgive. If mom—who is the one directly affected in all that he did—was able to forgive him, then why shouldn’t I? It’s not gonna be easy, especially after all these years that I’ve drifted apart from him. But at the very least, I’m going to start trying. I’m going to try to hear him out, to try to open up—even just a little bit, to try to spend some time with him… to try to make him my dad again and try to be a daughter to him. Given his job of being a cop, there’s always the possibility of him leaving so soon. But the LORD is faithful that He always protects dad. So yeah, I think it’s time to let go and start trying.

From that issue, I then started thinking about my weight issue. What in the world am I doing to myself lately? I eat and eat and eat. A lot. I don’t have the motivation to cut some things off of my diet. I don’t have the motivation to work out; I don’t have the motivation to lose weight anymore. I successfully lost 20 pounds last year, but that was because I didn’t want to look like a fat pig in my own 18th birthday party. But now that it’s over—as much as I still want to have a higher self-esteem, to get rid of the trouble of finding clothes, to be physically fit, to be a little less unattractive, to be able to love my self fully—I just don’t have the motivation for it. Then I remembered the words I said to myself a few months ago, “I promise myself I will never be that fat again. And will do anything and everything to make it to a 115.” Yeah. I must have forgotten that. Because of remembering my reasons for starting to get fit, I was slowly getting my motivation back. Sure, it will be difficult, but the result will be worth it in the end. Also, I do not want to graduate with that chubby of a face. Whew. Time to get working.

That’s the most I can remember when it comes to thinking some issues through. This was actually the good thing about these 29 hours: I was able to sort some issues and learned a lot of stuff along the way.

The rest of the day was kind of normal, except for the fact that I was so hyper-active that I’m freaking and weirding some of my classmates out. Some of them were very entertained though. I made it through our Literature subject, with my handwriting so far from legible that even I can’t understand it, with my answer to the journal activity making enough sense. In Spanish class, I was able to make it through a quiz and a lecture. Yeah, I was sane enough to do things properly, just like how I usually am when I am actually under the influence of alcohol. In between this six-hour period was me talking and talking and talking to my close friends, not-so-close friends and my Seatmate (yes, there’s actually one classmate of mine that I call ‘Seatmate’. It’s just because we sat next to each other in every subject and for the first two years of college). There was also the fact that I had trouble breathing and that I was constantly getting minor headaches, heartburns and chest pains. There was also me buying carbonated drinks, junkfood and sweets to keep myself awake as much as possible. Although a huge part of me thinks that it’s a bad idea, I was looking forward to making it to 24 hours.

After school, I went out with my four close friends for some karaoke in a nearby mall. See, that’s where the ‘this-is-probably-not-a-good-idea’ moment started. I was tired in all aspects—physically, emotionally and mentally—but I still pushed through with this. A part of me reasoned out that going out for some karaoke has been planned for a few weeks and I definitely don’t want to be a party-pooper. But the real reason was: I don’t want to be left out, knowing that they could push through with plans without me.

As the clock ticks and the hands go nearer to four o’clock, I was getting more and more excited. This is going to be the first time I’m awake for 24 hours! I know it’s not really something worth getting jumpy about and it’s a bad thing to be celebrated. But, I get really excited and happy about first-time experiences.

When the little hand was on four and the big hand was on 12, in the middle of singing a song, I shouted in joy. While inside a small karaoke booth, I said exuberantly to my friends, “It’s 4 p.m. guys, I’ve been up for 24 hours! Be happy for me!” Yeah. They just gave me odd looks.

Karaoke was fun. Singing your heart out, making fun of the ones who appear in the karaoke video, choosing songs and the fact of spending it with your friends makes it fun. Although, a few offensive remarks about my sexuality and disregarding my suggestion to ride the nearest metro station got my spirits down. I don’t know if it’s because I lack sleep that I became extra sensitive, but either way, why would you make such heartless remarks? Well, I’m sure she didn’t mean it. I mean, how on earth would they know that I’m sensitive if people think that I’m a lesbian mainly because my own dad questioned my sexual orientation for a couple of times? Just to be clear, I may act boyish, like a lot of guy things, I may slouch and be doting to my friends, but never will I ever be anything but a pure blooded female. I will never have second thoughts about my sexual orientation and that’s that. As for disregarding my suggestion for our ride home, it’s okay. Going the other way may have caused me a 10 minute walk, an extra 7 pesos for the jeepney fare and about 30 more minutes of travel time, but nah. There were a fews instances that I was falling asleep during the commute—which is dangerous, ‘cause I don’t know if I can wake up in time to get off of that train and jeep. Well, at least I got home. And to tell you the truth, I really wish I just went home and rested after school.

When I got home, I surfed the net to check on some stuff, then took a bath to relax my nerves, and finally slipped on my jogging pants, shirt and my favorite pair of socks and lied on the bed. I can feel the heaviness of my body—telling me how tired I am, and the heaviness of my eyes—telling me how sleep deprived I am. It was nine o’clock and I’ve been awake for 29 hours. Sure it was fun, having to be all hyper and jumpy and having to realize the things you didn’t have the courage to face—this whole experience actually gave me a higher appreciation of sleep. Being awake for 29 hours was memorable and, despite all the twists and turns, it was quite enjoyable too.

But I am never doing that again.

On the Filipino dubbed version of my favorite anime series of all time, Gakuen Alice, Mikan cracked a joke to Natsume on Episode 18: “In the Darkness, the Two of Us” and asked him, “What do you a ship that never sinks?” Then she paused and said…

“Friendship!”

Yes, it was a corny joke, and it was far from the rough English translation of the anime. But that got me thinking, just like Mikan did on Episode 26: “Friendship is Endless”. What is the real meaning of friendship? What is it really all about?

I thank God for blessing me with such great friends—people who are fun to talk to, people whom you will almost never have a dull moment with, people who care about you. But throughout the years, there were two people who were worth keeping, two people who really meant a lot to me. Throughout the years, we have been solid; the three of us were the best and truest or friends. We know each other’s most personal secrets; we can read each other’s moods and have telepathic conversations… we basically know each other inside out. We’ve been the best of friends for more than five years.

But sadly, like all the good things in this world, our relationship changed. The once solid trio is, well, not that solid anymore. One is slowly distancing herself from us. Stuff like that is just bound to happen, I guess, so that friendships can be tested if they are true or not.

I have to admit, I miss it. I miss everything. The hangouts where we’re actually complete, the phone calls, the text messages, frequent house visits, those times wherein they crash my place and we just watch some movies and eat—a lot, times when we go to the mall and check out a few cute boys that pass by, the moments wherein you just tell each other everything, talking about your crushes, sharing secrets and problems, having those talks where you encourage and help each other out, moments wherein you freely laugh and cry because you know one will not judge the other… I miss the times when we’re a group. The times when we were the inseparable trio that I thought we were.

That is what got me thinking.

Long phone calls, text messages, house crashing, sharing secrets and telling each other everything—is that what true friendship is all about? Is true friendship about calling and texting each other every day? Is true friendship about telling each other everything?

Maybe these things contribute to what makes a great friendship, but I guess it is not the essence. I remember one of my best friends telling me that true friendship isn’t about how often you guys talk, text and update each other, it’s about being there for the other when the time calls for it. And I guess she is right. Sure, the three of us got very busy with our own agendas: school, work, business, the ministry—you name it. But it doesn’t really mean that we’re not friends just because we don’t talk, right? Come to think of it, those two have been there for me all these years, and I to them. Whenever one falls down, we do our best to help one start over. We may not be always there for each other in person, but we’re always willing to support in any way that we can. To encourage, to reprimand, to cheer-up, to comfort… to be there for one another—that is what real friendship is about. The number of times you talk in a week, the number of secrets you know… it’s not what determines friendship. Sure, they may not be always there so you could share small details of your life. But when the troubles come, you know you have someone to run to, someone you can depend on.

So yeah, our trio and/or our friendship may not be perfect, we may be talking a little less than we did before, some things might have changed, but I guess that’s how all relationships are: it’s not exactly smooth sailing. Like a long voyage, there are times when the waves are just calm and there are times when the waves are not. But one thing is for sure, if your friends are real, they will stay. If your friendship is true, it will never die. Friendship is a ship that doesn’t sink after all.

Earlier today, I was actually thinking what I would post in my blog tonight. There was really nothing that significant that happened to me today. I just reviewed for my Spanish exam and watched a movie and a couple of Kim Possible  and How I Met Your Mother episodes. These are a great watch, really, but a part of me sort of regrets watching them. Mainly it’s because these shows are portraying a common theme: love.

Love.

How I wish I knew the true meaning of that word. In TV shows, movies and even a couple of cartoons, love is portrayed in a very ideal, unrealistic, yeah-right-that-never-happens-in-real-life kind of way. People searching the world for their perfect match, but turns out the one they’re looking for has been in front of them the whole time (Kim Possible). That sometimes, no matter how hard you try, some people aren’t just meant to be (How I Met Your Mother, Season 2 Episode 22). Even the most unlikely and unlovable people can find love (Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas, 2003). There’s tons of things about love and romance everywhere. Falling in love with your best friend. Falling in love with your best friend’s girlfriend. Breaking up with someone. End up marrying the person you’ve been dating for 10 years.

Man, I have to take a break in watching these kinds of shows. It makes me think… makes me wonder…

What is it like to actually fall in love?

I’ve never been in a serious relationship before. Love has always been a blur to me. Well, I know that kind of love for your best and closest friends and love for family. I know what it’s like in that aspect. But that kind of love for “someone special”? I have no freaking idea.

When I was younger and still in high school—in the time of crushes, love notes, awkward love teams and giddy feeling—my classmates have this hobby of asking random questions to random people. One of the cliché questions was, “how do you define love?” To play it safe, I said to them—and I still say this whenever I encounter that question—“It is a four letter word that begins with the letter ‘L’.” I know it’s a safe, oh-she-doesn’t-want-to-show-her-real-cards kind of definition, but to be fair, it is a valid way of defining that word.  But what do you expect from someone who almost never fell in love before?

Almost never fell in love. Yeah, that’s how I put it. I’ve went as far as being infatuated with someone, to experience having mutual feelings with someone… but that’s it. As much as I’d like to say I’ve fallen for someone before, I can’t. ‘Cause I’m not really sure if I did.

What is it like to really be in love? It is really like how they show it on TV? Those “butterflies in your stomach”, “the beating of your heart goes faster”, “it feels like time was standing still”, “suddenly it feels like it’s only the two of you in this world”… those you-look-into-his-eyes-and-you-know-that-he-feels-the-same-way kind of moments… are any of those real? Do they really happen in real life? Or am I turning into a hopeless romantic?

Man, I hope not.

I really wonder what it’s like. To meet someone who will make you tear down your defenses. To have this unexplainable feeling. To actually feel nervous whenever you see him. To actually like someone. To find someone likes you back. To receive sweet text messages. To talk in the phone for hours. To go on dates. To hold hands with someone. To share earphones and listen to music. To get a stuffed toy and chocolates. To have someone carry your bag as he walks you home. To have mini-fights and make up. To watch the sunset together. To look into someone’s eyes. To be adored. To feel inspired.

To find someone special. To fall in love.

I wonder. Hmm, I’m actually smiling to myself right now. A part of me feels ridiculous. Sure, everybody is looking for somebody. But I’m not really the type of girl that is so worked up about these stuff. I don’t worry much about my appearance; I don’t really dress up; I don’t panic how I should approach a guy; I don’t go boy-hunting (okay, sometimes I do); I don’t try to get someone to text me… well, the point is, I guess this really is not my priority right now. And it’s just that I’m not that ready for that kind of commitment.

Call me old-fashioned, but when I enter a relationship, I don’t want it to be just special, I want it to be right. I want it to be serious, to lead to something more meaningful. I don’t want us to be with each other knowing soon that the relationship will end anyway. I don’t want it to be perfect—there is no such thing as a perfect relationship after all. I just want it to be just right, to have to love someone more and more each day.

Okay, maybe my thoughts on love are a bit ideal. These shows are really rubbing off on me.

Sigh.

I’ve been going on and on about this and still I don’t know what love is like. But maybe someday I will.

Someday, I will give a better definition of that four letter word. I just have to wait and see.