My mother used to tell me that if I ever got married, my husband would probably leave me.
Well, she’s probably right.
I was often accused as a cold fish ever since I have grown up and learned how to block pain and hurt from consuming.
Old friends used to think I never really cared about anyone. Even my family has remarked about the certain distance I placed between myself and the rest of the world.
I even heard someone ask one of my friends kun ano ako nga klase ka amiga because I spent most of my time away from my closest friends.
I heard that too often that I have started to believe them.
Until tonight that is.
What happened tonight? I stepped on a growing gecko(not sure of the term, basta, it’s a big baby lizard with a large head and a small body). I felt the odd squishy thing under my slippers and realized it was not just an ordinary ribbon or cloth but something live.
I made the mistake of looking down and checking it and looking straight through its eyes. Oh God. The eyes have bulged and it looks as if it was crying in pain.
I felt bad, guilty and I kept saying sorry. I did not mean it at all.
I realized that I can actually feel. I strongly empathized with creatures that are weaker than myself. That is why I avoid them as often as possible.
Pain suffered by others (especially animals) affects me deeply. I don’t know why really. I see the pain-filled faces and I think about the lives they led before and the lives they would lead after if they survived.
Another example is the death of my dog. I actually felt unhappy of the experiences he would not have now that he has died. He never learned how to lick a hand properly and he does not know how to piss as a male dog should. He also has not spend a lot of time outdoors because we were very protective of him.
One afternoon, on my way home and while riding a jeep, I passed by a wriggling form of a very small brown puppy by the roadside. I thought it was playing by itself, enjoying whatever piece of string is attached on its claws. Then, I realized that the dog has actually been hit by a car and was writhing in pain.
I was unable to hold back a gasp and all the way home, while on the verge of tears, I kept thinking about the little dog.
Nobody knows this about me but I care too deeply. Far too deeply than any ordinary human is capable of handling. That is why I have to put a lid on my emotions. Not because I am afraid of getting hurt but because I am afraid of what those feelings can do to others and to myself.
I was once a very possessive friend, a very jealous daughter and sister and a very keen person. When I have friends, I longed to possess them wholly and totally. I want them with me all the time.
Now, people often find me more alone than with someone. Now, I no longer know how it feels to be with anybody.
I am uncomfortable in the presence of persons who expect me to smile, laugh and talk with them all the time.
I have become the very reverse of what I once was before.
I once told a former teacher that one of the reasons why I fear any relationship with the opposite sex is that my kind of love would destroy a weaker man. I am not exactly a strong person.
In fact, some may term me weak. Unfortunately, I have abnormally strong passions. I just don’t reveal them.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Right Now
Right now, I do not really care what other people say about me.
I guess I got so over the idea of trying to fit into people’s conception of who and what I should be that I have stopped being myself.
I wanted to be a model daughter so I did everything that my mother asked me to do. In the end, I was not able to stop her from doing something destructive which has made all of us suffer. I listened to her for the last 23 years of my life and for that one single year I asked her for something, she refused to even hear me.
I wanted to become a model teacher and served my alma mater. It was not the money at first. It was the brimming idealism of a teacher who honestly longed to serve. But, the administration made sure I would loose even that. Because of politically and nepotistically minded people, I lost myself.
I wanted to become a model daughter so I did all I could for my siblings only to realize that no one really cared. Oh well, what are younger sisters for. They would not listen. It’s just like I am not even there.
Now, I wanted to be myself. Now, I am doing the things that I wanted to do in the first place. I spent most of my summer at the blank, blank university for my master’s degree in English language teaching. I spend most of my free time in the library reading. I spent the other spare time huddled before a computer downloading songs and other relevant info. I spend other free times watching movies, sleeping, eating o just thinking.
Because now, I have stopped caring.
I don’t really care about my application for a national item at school. I mean whatever. The whole thing sucks. Who knows, I might find something more lucrative.
I don’t really care about what people will say about me. I will just do my job and they all can go to wherever they want to go.
I guess I got so over the idea of trying to fit into people’s conception of who and what I should be that I have stopped being myself.
I wanted to be a model daughter so I did everything that my mother asked me to do. In the end, I was not able to stop her from doing something destructive which has made all of us suffer. I listened to her for the last 23 years of my life and for that one single year I asked her for something, she refused to even hear me.
I wanted to become a model teacher and served my alma mater. It was not the money at first. It was the brimming idealism of a teacher who honestly longed to serve. But, the administration made sure I would loose even that. Because of politically and nepotistically minded people, I lost myself.
I wanted to become a model daughter so I did all I could for my siblings only to realize that no one really cared. Oh well, what are younger sisters for. They would not listen. It’s just like I am not even there.
Now, I wanted to be myself. Now, I am doing the things that I wanted to do in the first place. I spent most of my summer at the blank, blank university for my master’s degree in English language teaching. I spend most of my free time in the library reading. I spent the other spare time huddled before a computer downloading songs and other relevant info. I spend other free times watching movies, sleeping, eating o just thinking.
Because now, I have stopped caring.
I don’t really care about my application for a national item at school. I mean whatever. The whole thing sucks. Who knows, I might find something more lucrative.
I don’t really care about what people will say about me. I will just do my job and they all can go to wherever they want to go.
My Bestfriend
Adel is one of the most precious friends I have ever had. But, she never called me her bestfriend and I believe I agree with her.
Because I see her in the same manner. We have a strange relationship, you see. One that is personal and philosophical, close and distant at the same time. Adel is both my mentor and my friend. She has become the source of most of the inspiring ideas and philosophies I have come to appreciate when it comes to leadership and managing people.
She would probably make a good HR manager. She is good with people.
But, Adel is not my bestfriend. She is one of the best of the friends I have (and I have few to start with).
But, since kindergarten, I have only had three bestfriends.
The first one was my kindergarten classmate who attended a private elementary school (that’s why we got separated). Mae Ann (as I recall her) is a nice kid but when we grew up, we did not even acknowledge each others existence in any special way at all. I guess we grew indifferent.
Then, when I was in Grade Three, a classmate spent the whole recess talking to me about crushes (that was the first time I encountered the word). We became bestfriends eversince until she had to leave for another school two years later. I had negative memories of her since she teased me a lot and made fun of me. I could not take the jokes.
When I was in Grade five and I was assigned to throw the trash to the school dumping site, I “met” my dearest, truest, bestfriend.
We were on our way when we started talking about a guy (who happened to be our mutual crush at that time). He was her seatmate and I uncannily revealed how much I liked the guy. Since then, Geramie and I became totally inseparable.
Geramie is one of the dearest friends I have ever had. She was always there.She never leat me down and she was always kind to me. She was the kind of friend who always took your side no matter what (and I am usually wrong).
If Adel was of the sort who helped me find my true self and make the right choices, Geramie was there to pick me up when I fell and to cheer me up when I am mostly down.
I tried to return the favor. I guess the kind of friendship we had was solely based on comforting and cheering each other on.
If I was not totally honest with some feedbacks, I reasoned it out with the line: She does not need any more critics. She just needs me to be her bestfriend. We talked for really long hours about how we felt and how we are and how we dealt with the problems we faced.
After high school graduation, Geramie had to leave for Samar and we never had any contact again.
But then, Geramie would always be my dearest and most selfless bestfriend. No one can ever take her place.
Because I see her in the same manner. We have a strange relationship, you see. One that is personal and philosophical, close and distant at the same time. Adel is both my mentor and my friend. She has become the source of most of the inspiring ideas and philosophies I have come to appreciate when it comes to leadership and managing people.
She would probably make a good HR manager. She is good with people.
But, Adel is not my bestfriend. She is one of the best of the friends I have (and I have few to start with).
But, since kindergarten, I have only had three bestfriends.
The first one was my kindergarten classmate who attended a private elementary school (that’s why we got separated). Mae Ann (as I recall her) is a nice kid but when we grew up, we did not even acknowledge each others existence in any special way at all. I guess we grew indifferent.
Then, when I was in Grade Three, a classmate spent the whole recess talking to me about crushes (that was the first time I encountered the word). We became bestfriends eversince until she had to leave for another school two years later. I had negative memories of her since she teased me a lot and made fun of me. I could not take the jokes.
When I was in Grade five and I was assigned to throw the trash to the school dumping site, I “met” my dearest, truest, bestfriend.
We were on our way when we started talking about a guy (who happened to be our mutual crush at that time). He was her seatmate and I uncannily revealed how much I liked the guy. Since then, Geramie and I became totally inseparable.
Geramie is one of the dearest friends I have ever had. She was always there.She never leat me down and she was always kind to me. She was the kind of friend who always took your side no matter what (and I am usually wrong).
If Adel was of the sort who helped me find my true self and make the right choices, Geramie was there to pick me up when I fell and to cheer me up when I am mostly down.
I tried to return the favor. I guess the kind of friendship we had was solely based on comforting and cheering each other on.
If I was not totally honest with some feedbacks, I reasoned it out with the line: She does not need any more critics. She just needs me to be her bestfriend. We talked for really long hours about how we felt and how we are and how we dealt with the problems we faced.
After high school graduation, Geramie had to leave for Samar and we never had any contact again.
But then, Geramie would always be my dearest and most selfless bestfriend. No one can ever take her place.
The Man from Dumarao (and a Dreamboy)
I
I spent most of my college days commuting from the university I attended and my hometown (which is 50 km away from each other).
I rode a jeep and a bus for about an hour and a half. My baon never fell bellow P150 per day.
I have experienced a lot while riding buses. I became quite familiar with some bus drivers and conductors and even some bus inspectors. Well, I was never the type to chat and talk but I occasionally give a smile of greeting to those who have been quite nice and polite to me.
Basta there are a lot of experiences that I have come to treasure, weird people I have come to meet and odd experiences and encounters that made its way on my journal.
But, there never was a man who made its way into my memory banks (ugh, very unliterary, I am so affected with all the sociolinguistic jargon we need to take in daily).
I guess when you are in school and you have to study, you really have no time to think about anything else. However, this past week, ever since grad school began; I have been obsessing on this thing.
Everytime I climbed up a bus, I always utter a silent prayer that I would be given a chance to sit with a strikingly fascinating man. I mean, when riding busses, I have never sat with a man since I was in college.
No. I always attracted old men and women who loved to talk about their sons and daughters and their grandkids the whole trip. Sometimes, I get to sit with business women who always have loads of paninda from super (the supermarket, a sort of divisoria like place, but dirtier and less literalized).
Once, a drunk sat by me and asked me for my name and even bragged that he owned several drugstores and businesses in Roxas and could well afford sending me to school (yeah, he was drunk). I had to move away since he was really making me nervous at that time.
I even managed to get to sit with a crazed guy who had blood all over his shirt and head and had an odd bump somewhere on his forehead. He seemed a bit off and kept muttering. I was so nervous the whole time. I guess that’s what I got for protecting my other half of the seat for that man.
Yeah. I was guilty of turning away potential seat mates that day because I was hoping that a fascinating man would come along and take that seat and I could fantasize the whole time I was sitting with him.
Pathetic huh? That happened just last Friday.
And then, yesterday, he came and sat beside me. The first fascinating man to sit with me on a bus ride home.
No. I was not expecting it. In fact, I have given up the pathetic practice of reserving the seat for a guy, any guy, as long as he takes my fancy.I mean, I am not yet an old maid and should not feel that desperate since I will be turning what, 24 next July. Haha.
I guess the fact that I have never had a boyfriend makes me that vulnerable. Really pathetic. Look at all those girls leaning against their boyfriends. Waaah. How does that feel, I wonder.
Anyway, I have just left the library with my head still reeling from all that reading I had. I can barely read signpost a few feet from me… and I was still reading Ryunosuke Akutagawa’s short stories when he suddenly sat beside me.
Surprise.
Who would have thought it?
He was tall, not really handsome, no. He does not even have any compelling charisma (if he had, I did not feel it). He was big but not remarkably so.
I guess what made him notable to my weird senses was the fact that he was the first real man I sat with on a bus ride home.
If I see him, I probably won’t remember him but I really went overboard with the fantasies (not sexual I assure, just sweet and innocent, General Patronage type, I swear).
I guess I felt safe and comfortable beside the man. I learned that he was off to Dumarao. He was carrying some sort of plate number for a car and he was wearing walking shorts and a Tshirt that I do not even remember the color (really haha).
I guess God knew His job. I often asked Him why He never allowed any cute man to sit beside me (since my sister often brags about how she keeps sitting with really cute guys, unlike me). Now, I know why.
Because when I fall, I fall too deep. I get too involved even for just an hour. I kept thinking about that man from Dumarao until now. Even if I could no longer remember how he looks.
II
When I was in Grade Four, I had a weird dream about a boy. In that dream, my classmates and I went to some place in the northern part of Iloilo where we met students from one elementary school there. My classmates sort of left me on my own and one of the boys told me not to worry since he will take care of me.
The boy introduced himself to me at that time. I don’t exactly remember the face or the appearance but I still have the name. He introduced himself as Cyril Nuevo.
I haven’t met anyone by that name.
I spent most of my college days commuting from the university I attended and my hometown (which is 50 km away from each other).
I rode a jeep and a bus for about an hour and a half. My baon never fell bellow P150 per day.
I have experienced a lot while riding buses. I became quite familiar with some bus drivers and conductors and even some bus inspectors. Well, I was never the type to chat and talk but I occasionally give a smile of greeting to those who have been quite nice and polite to me.
Basta there are a lot of experiences that I have come to treasure, weird people I have come to meet and odd experiences and encounters that made its way on my journal.
But, there never was a man who made its way into my memory banks (ugh, very unliterary, I am so affected with all the sociolinguistic jargon we need to take in daily).
I guess when you are in school and you have to study, you really have no time to think about anything else. However, this past week, ever since grad school began; I have been obsessing on this thing.
Everytime I climbed up a bus, I always utter a silent prayer that I would be given a chance to sit with a strikingly fascinating man. I mean, when riding busses, I have never sat with a man since I was in college.
No. I always attracted old men and women who loved to talk about their sons and daughters and their grandkids the whole trip. Sometimes, I get to sit with business women who always have loads of paninda from super (the supermarket, a sort of divisoria like place, but dirtier and less literalized).
Once, a drunk sat by me and asked me for my name and even bragged that he owned several drugstores and businesses in Roxas and could well afford sending me to school (yeah, he was drunk). I had to move away since he was really making me nervous at that time.
I even managed to get to sit with a crazed guy who had blood all over his shirt and head and had an odd bump somewhere on his forehead. He seemed a bit off and kept muttering. I was so nervous the whole time. I guess that’s what I got for protecting my other half of the seat for that man.
Yeah. I was guilty of turning away potential seat mates that day because I was hoping that a fascinating man would come along and take that seat and I could fantasize the whole time I was sitting with him.
Pathetic huh? That happened just last Friday.
And then, yesterday, he came and sat beside me. The first fascinating man to sit with me on a bus ride home.
No. I was not expecting it. In fact, I have given up the pathetic practice of reserving the seat for a guy, any guy, as long as he takes my fancy.I mean, I am not yet an old maid and should not feel that desperate since I will be turning what, 24 next July. Haha.
I guess the fact that I have never had a boyfriend makes me that vulnerable. Really pathetic. Look at all those girls leaning against their boyfriends. Waaah. How does that feel, I wonder.
Anyway, I have just left the library with my head still reeling from all that reading I had. I can barely read signpost a few feet from me… and I was still reading Ryunosuke Akutagawa’s short stories when he suddenly sat beside me.
Surprise.
Who would have thought it?
He was tall, not really handsome, no. He does not even have any compelling charisma (if he had, I did not feel it). He was big but not remarkably so.
I guess what made him notable to my weird senses was the fact that he was the first real man I sat with on a bus ride home.
If I see him, I probably won’t remember him but I really went overboard with the fantasies (not sexual I assure, just sweet and innocent, General Patronage type, I swear).
I guess I felt safe and comfortable beside the man. I learned that he was off to Dumarao. He was carrying some sort of plate number for a car and he was wearing walking shorts and a Tshirt that I do not even remember the color (really haha).
I guess God knew His job. I often asked Him why He never allowed any cute man to sit beside me (since my sister often brags about how she keeps sitting with really cute guys, unlike me). Now, I know why.
Because when I fall, I fall too deep. I get too involved even for just an hour. I kept thinking about that man from Dumarao until now. Even if I could no longer remember how he looks.
II
When I was in Grade Four, I had a weird dream about a boy. In that dream, my classmates and I went to some place in the northern part of Iloilo where we met students from one elementary school there. My classmates sort of left me on my own and one of the boys told me not to worry since he will take care of me.
The boy introduced himself to me at that time. I don’t exactly remember the face or the appearance but I still have the name. He introduced himself as Cyril Nuevo.
I haven’t met anyone by that name.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)