Walang Pamagat

Para na yata ako'ng si Don Quixote... sobra ang paniniwalang may Dulcinea.

Para din ako'ng yung babae sa Lohika Ng Mga Bula Ng Sabon... bumuo ng sarili niyang Sandali.

Tsk tsk. kawawa naman 'tong blog na 'to.

Suntukan na lang! Ano? Ano?

Itetext ko sana ng ganito: "ang kapal mo. mamatay ka na sana" o kaya ng "wag na wag ka na babalik dito" o kaya naman "makakaganti din ako sa'yo" pero di man lang ako nakapag-compose. may load ako. di lang ako makatext kasi parang lalu lang ako magiging talunan.

kung sakaling paulanan ko ng mura, masasaktan kaya gaya nung sakit na majombag ng mga insulto? hanep. hamunin ko kaya one-on-one na lang kami? di naman kalakihan ang katawan niya,di nga nagwoworkout eh medyo may tiyan pa. kung tutuusin mas muscular pa nga ako sa kanya. pero bakit kaya nung huli kaming magpisikalan mas malakas pa rin siya? pero di bale na, atleast mas mahina yung suntok kaysa sa bibig niyang mala-kamao ni Pacman.

saan ba mas kapitapitagang matalo? sa usapan o sa bakbakan? mas may dignity bang matalo sa sapakan o sa murahan? pagbigyan niyo na ko... buti nga kahit papaano may choices.

narealize ko... pangbenteng beses ko na yata narealize to ngayon...

tama si Matute; mahirap pala talaga maging babae sa panahon ngayon. kahit na ang digmaan sa laway na lang nabubuhay.

mapagbirong site

The Authenticity of Friendship, or how give up on it

By this hour I promised to be seriously working on my paper but somehow I feel the necessity to unload what has been bothering me for the last few days. On second thought, I think I’ve been disturbed by my realizations for so long but was too scared to face the facts. Correct me, people, if my insights are rather too pessimistic. But I strongly believe all of us must be practical enough to veer away from our emotions and the ways we have been raised.

 

I grew up surrounded by different lives, people in different shapes, colors and sizes. My mom kept a lot of friends and I was raised to believe every individual, no matter how different from us they may be, deserves the true and never-ending friendships we have to offer.

 

I will not go over detailed accounts of the misfortunes and disappointments I have had with regards to “friends” I have kept and taken care of all these years (and months). But I guess enumerating the lessons I got from painful and shocking experiences can help me and others in handling personal relationships better. I’m sharing all these lessons, partly to myself to let them sink in into my stubborn and sometimes irrational head, and to everyone and anyone who has yet to see examples that they truly happen in real life.

 

1. The triviality of friendship: Lately I have discovered some things that I never thought I would encounter with people I call “friends”. Yes, even best-friendship may be as trivial as acquaintance. Sometimes it’s even better to relate to your neighbor coz a neighbor is a neighbor by the mere essence of the name. You won’t call neighbors the first time you get laid nor when you discovered you mother was a mistress. Reason? You won’t expect neighbors to sympathize. Then who would? Of course besides family the immediate answer is a friend. But mind you, it could be very misleading. Some people might be there for you one time or even all the time then betray you the next.
   
2. The necessity of standards and requirements: Certainly there has to be categories. You can’t label everyone as “friends” just because you spent hours and hours of serious talk, not even when you shared emotions in distress and in happiness, not even when one person has been there for you all these years (or so you thought), not even spending time together has become a daily routine. And in all these confusions, time is never a qualifying factor. Time does not prove truthfulness, nor does it reveal authenticity.
   
3. Being true to everyone does not necessarily mean everyone is true to you. It’s a two-way traffic. I used to believe my being true to people and my generosity to share my thoughts and confusions will pull the strings. But whoa, it’s possible for people to use anything you said against you, just to save their asses (and without even bothering to inform you that they used you as an excuse).
   
4. It’s a big no-no to assume your so-called friends understand you, your motivations, your intentions and your principles, even if they tell you and swore to you they do. Birds of the same feathers flock together --- piece of crap! It is never helpful to assume the people you give importance to are in the same frequency as yours.
   
5. Benefit of the doubt can only bring you trouble. Sometimes we refuse to judge because we think there has to be a very important reason behind every action and we hope that in that reason we will come to understand the people we value. We love to justify. But with further analysis, the benefit of the doubt is selfish. Selfish because it comes from the fright to get hurt. I was always afraid to lose anyone. I was afraid to think bad about the people I care about. And so I give the benefit of the doubt. But the doubt hindered me from making rational conclusions, thus, always stopped me from taking a stand. If you ask what I have become from giving infinite second chances, I’d admit to you that I am one person who failed to discern what is right from wrong. Now I regret giving away benefits of the doubt over and over.

 

I’m partly saying these to myself to wake my self from a winter-wonderland dream. I wish all is just a joke, or that I’ve lost my mind. But reality, statistics, make it clear, too clear that I can’t believe I was so stupid to hold on to my ideals. Honestly, I don’t know where to start now. I refuse to subject everyone I know to a true-friendship test, but it scares me to think that the numbers are being drained. There are a few people left, but it’s so damn hard not to anticipate another pain from a handful of neat friendships especially at a time when even the neatest of them already managed to stab you nonchalantly.

Upgraditis (Its Symptoms, Manifestations, and Treatment Procedures)

This morning I read Butch Dalisay's article in Star. In his discussion of how often he upgrades his techie gadgets, he introduced one very relevant word.

Upgraditis -- the mind-numbing, toe-curling urge to get something newer and snazzier than what you already have, even if what you already have seems to be working perfectly and has served you as faithyfully as St. Bernard in the wintry Alps.

I was really affected by the article. Not that I'm techie; it's the idea that I can relate to. Let me modify the definition a bit. Mine goes like...

Upgraditis -- the mind-numbing, toe-curling, insomiac-turning, pimple-mass producing urge to get something/someone newer and snazzier than what you used to have, especially when what you used to have didn't seem to be working perfectly and had served you rather unfaithfully as Polgas in Pugad Baboy.

Perhaps you now know where this is leading. Friends, I won't even ask you to bear with my mushy musings. I know you know it attacks every once in a while. And the consciousness is a rather positive sign, isn't it?

Butch Dalisay says his upgraditis afflicts him every 18 months for laptops and evry 12 months for cell phones. I really wish my upgraditis attacks just that often. But it doesn't.

Looking back, I guess I've been sick with it since time immemorial. When I first became aware that my family is so much different from the typical, ordinary family, I wanted to upgrade. When my mom started enjoying night-outs and frequent social-drinking engagements, I wanted to upgrade. When I first experienced how it is to be taken for granted and betrayed by a friend back in high school, i wanted to upgrade. When I took the course that I thought was the perfect one for me but turned out to be unenjoyable, I chose to upgrade. When my first boyfriend showed psycho tendencies, I chose to upgrade. When my friends didn't seem to be how they should be by the mere essence of the label, I chose to upgrade. Even in religion, I didn't stop searching for the better option because I wanted to upgrade. When I got pregnant, I decided to get married because I wanted to upgrade. When my so-called husband turned out to be an ultra dense PS addict, I made a decision because I want to upgrade my life.

You see, the upgrading doesn't come only when there's a new mini version of some gadgets or when MAC or Windows come out with a new product. My upgraditis afflicts me every single day of my life at every single point when I notice how messed up I have become since I first became aware that there are upgrades. I saw other families, other lives and other situations that clearly shows life could be better and more wonderful because others enjoy such. Yeah, I guess it's more of the consciousness of the "downgrades". Looking at dad's life, I think he downgraded himself too much, and with mom covering up for him in front of the whole nation, i honestly believe she has downgraded. I myself have downgraded a lot of times; peculiarly at those times when I thought I was upgrading, I actually downgraded.

My current upgraditis reached the level when all i want now is to upgrade everything. Critical condition, i guess. Level 3. I want an upgrade in my career, my lifestyle, my artistic endeavors, motherhood, and romance.

Sometimes I catch myself looking at men like little pieces of gadgets for sale. I check their features, their parts, their capabilities, their look, the material they're made of, their price, the number and kind of people who owned them or something similar, the resolution, the battery life, the accessories that they come with, their applications, etc. etc. I meticulously go over the brochures and catalogues because I want to be sure to get an upgrade.

Well.. besides the uneasy "mind-numbing, toe-curling" urge, I see that at this point in my life upgraditis helps. My upgraditis helps me set better standards in life. For instance, as I decide on which school I shall send Maya to, I check every single detail just to be sure my precious cherub will get better education than I did. For Maya I want to be 100 percent sure I choose an upgrade. Even in the way i relate with my friends now, I am more careful because I want my friends to have an upgraded Avie as a friend, as much as I want to keep better, upgraded friends.

I guess it's more of how you can control upgraditis rather than how to cure it. I feel restless most of the time in that chingytweengie feeling to upgrade my whole life, but then I've learned how to focus my thoughts on what could be immediately attended to in that whole project to upgrade.

Focus. Self-control. Thorough and practical thinking. Rationality. Maturity. Patience. Those are the supplements we need to take to be able to bear the uncurable disease. I feel bad for those people who run for refuge to just anything or anyone when failure haunts. I hope they'd be able to get the hang of upgraditis rather than settling for anything and anyone, be them downgrades. I also hope people won't succumb to the urge at the expense of their future or their sanity, in the end downgrading themselves.

Really, if upgraditis works like how it does in me right now, I'd pray that it's viral just so I can get everyone I know and meet infected by it.

time really runs like a river

I met up with Bimbo, a close close friend back in high school. It's been three years since we last saw each other so we were really excited to meet up even if it would mean catching up with each other's multi-episode life all crammed in an hour, the 12-1 lunch time.

The first few minutes after 30 seconds of "i missed you a lot" and "so happy to see you" exchanges were all awkward. No no no, we never had a thing with each other before. The awkwardness, I guess, was out of the realization that we missed so much of the happenings in each others' lives. Let me clarify my self, within those three years we actually have seen each other but those were on very special occasions like my wedding, his wedding, my daughter's christening, his daughter's christening. We literally just saw each other but never got the chance to talk.

Bimbo is a friend who'd never forget the value of friendship despite separation or lack of time. He's always the first one to greet me a happy bday every year. Even if we live totally separate lives he never forgets my birthday.

"What? You mean you realized you really are into women?", was what he said, to my surprise, when I started on the separation and marriage-falling-apart story which has been really mechanical to tell nowadays.

I laughed so hard. I was not laughing at the very humor of it, actually. I was just so happy with the fact that he really didn't forget what we have shared before. Important backgrounder: we shared one girl before. Oh no, not shared, I was with her first until he stole her from me. Hehe. I've forgiven, really. (oops, he didn't know I hid grudges) Seriously, it felt good to know that he still kept the memories and that he's still that open to me and that he can ask me anything without blinking an eye(sensitive or not).

We went on sharing each other's experiences. Believe me the updating can be so emotional but we managed to go over it casually. We talked about marital problems, the joy of having a child and the infinite expenses that go with it, what we have heard about people we know, how now that we look at ourselves objectively we see two anti-social workaholics -- personalities that we never imagined we would and could be 7-8 years back.

We were just highschoolers joggling school, social life and a bulk of hobbies (billiards, basketball, collectibles, bullying, smoking, drinking, malling, and oh dear, cutting classes). We were just enjoying life and were complicating our boring lives. Now we're busy simplifying our complicated lives.

I showed him some of Maya's photos which I have copies of inside all my bags (talk about being a girlscout mom, haha). He said she looks just like me. "Buti hindi nagmana sa ama", commented the never-changing laitero. Then he showed me Jill's, his daughter. Funny enough, Jill looks exactly like him, only with longer hair!

He laughed his heart out looking at us. He remembered how we used to exchange homeworks, computations in trigo, and even test papers. And now we exchange pictures of our children. I agree with him perfectly. We didn't know we would end up the way we are now barely 8 years after high school. Who would've even thought he, the heartthrob Bimbo, would come to marry one possessive woman and manage to stick with her when he spent most of his adolescent years collecting girlfriends? (I'm proud of you, Bo, for changing and for being so loyal to your wife) And who would've thought that I, the one-of-the-boys ultra independent Avie, would be impregnated before college graduation and now become a "separada"? Who would've thought we would be missing three years of each others' lives when one classmate (by the name of Sheila Romano, I guess) once tagged us with matching flowing tears and raging eyes The Partners in Crime. We still are partners now, but not in any crime. We partner in the belief that through everything that happened to us, we have no reason to be ashamed or feel demeaned or embarrased.

No one ever imagined we would be low profile citizens (I mean, so much away from troubles and popularity grievances). No one, not even me or him. But that's how life gets so exciting, isn't it? We are not stereotypes.

We realized how time flies and that we can never spent that much time together now like we used to because we now have new sets of priorities. He recalled that I was the one who wrote his profile for our high school yearbook and that how his wife never believed it was him who wrote it and that everytime he reminds her it was me who did the wife never believes I was never one of her girls.

It was just an hour of double-time exchanges of stories hurriedly recalled. But it was more than enough to remind me and to assure me that Bimbo is really my friend.

We can't be cheesy, we refuse to. But I know he knew what my smiles and cursing meant. It was my way of saying 'thank you'. And I also know he knew that I know the very gesture of having lunch with me is a huge show of support now that I am facing much bigger challenges.

Funny how time flies. But like a river, there's nothing we could do to keep the water from flowing. I felt too humiliated to even think of telling him but, really, I love Bimbo and I love him even more for the fact that time never cuts through the real friendship we have built 8 years ago as the naughty highschoolers who thought life can be too easy.

If only I could be rich by this, I'd savor every minute

Remember how it feels as a kid waiting for your delayed carpool 5 minutes before your favorite cartoon show airs. Or waiting for your turn to deliver an impromptu speech that’ll either mark your abilities or prove your detractors right in an inter-level speech competition.

 

Here are two different situations that elicit very similar emotions. On both points you’ve been drowned for several minutes in impatience, excitement, desperation, optimism and pessimism in one, nervousness, and hopefulness. It was a freaking mixture of worries and dreams, of anticipations and fears of what had yet to come, of wishful thinking and sighs of defeat.

 

Remember the feeling, the unexplainable 5 or so minutes. More so, imagine feeling the conundrum, misorder and disorder of emotions now, at this point in time and for the rest of your life. Not for only 5 minutes, not even for an hour alone.

 

It’s possible. And when it happens, you can be lost in thought, unable to focus and almost miserable, but it’ll amaze you that you can survive days and days when you thought 5 minutes was already a torture.

 

Sometimes it happens for a season. But sometimes for months, even years.

 

I feel that mystery connivance of extreme emotions almost all the time. I feel it when I eat, when I put on my sleepwear, when I wait for the cab, when I cook dinner, when I wash my clothes, when I sing, when I read the paper, when I speak, and even as I write this entry.

 

We call it the “sickness”. But on second thought, illness can be cured by medicine, by herbs, by therapies. But this so-called sickness inflicts itself and cures itself in so many different ways and unpredictable conditions.

 

We can get used to it but still I wonder, was this terrible mix of emotions made to be felt 24/7? Didn’t it have 30-40 minutes maximum span? Because if it did, I think I’d qualify for a Guinness.