to be sane is insanity

Scratch That

Conversations these past few days with my friends have made me want to write my take on letting go.

Letting go:
Breathing deeply and letting it all out. Heaving a sigh. Putting all the "bad" out in the air without a care.

And I guess it starts with acknowledging that you aren't completely over-- Love. Hate. Disappointment. Anger. Pick your poison. I think these are the hardest emotions or states of thought to let go of because of their gravity and capacity to move you and even to change you. But sometimes all these emotions are at the point of consuming you and taking over your life to the point that even your perspectives are governed by these volatile emotions.

Given, we've all had our share of that word Love. In the words of Neil Gaiman, it takes hostages. And maybe we're all suckers for love. After all, movies, books, songs, and topics of conversation revolve around love love love.

And we aren't sick of it(c'mon admit it!) . Because we still believe in it. We aren't as jaded or as cynical as we think we are. We're just afraid it'll surprise us and render us vulnerable. But isn't that what makes us giddy? What makes life exciting? Makes you glow? We're scared because if it comes we trouble over how to keep it. Never really appreciating when it's there. And when we lose it. That's where bitterness stems. Sometimes we're even so poor at recognizing it.

But what hurts the most, I guess, is when you know you have it. You know it's undeniably there. And real. But you have to let go.

Who knows why?

Time?

Effort?

Someone else?

Who knows!

But one thing's certain. Let go! (Ok, I know, easier said than done hehe but I trust you'd know ;p) Because you know, YOU aren't getting anywhere hoping and waiting. Because the more you wait and hope, the more it gets agonizing with the dissecting of every single detail, with the analyzing of every uttered word.

I know letting go.
It ain't easy but it heals :D

With hate, disappointment, and anger, I impose you must dispose (hehe) of both the destructive emotion and that person...especially of friends who shouldn't be called such. People who have hurt you so deeply.

Swallow all you bitter pills.

Scratch out all your hatred and disappointment and anger.

As for love, ha, love. Always sought after, never totally really found with the exception of that one beautiful moment. It'll come. Meantime, let go. Enjoy.

Love even more. :)

Law School

They teach you all these things, how to be great and achieve your goals but they never tell you what to do when you fail, when you’re finding a hard time to get There. You learn these things for yourself.

Welcome to Law School. Most paper I've ever seen  (and read) in my whole 22 years of existence. Hard work. Sleepless night days! Hard core memory work. Tiring. Frustrating. Exhausting. And sometimes I just want to close my eyes and wish it were easy.

This is my present reality. (Pardon me while I burst)

HOWEVER, this is something I love. And something that you learn for yourself, to push yourself because you know you can do better.

And just like everything, I've sacrificed time and sleep and many of the things that matter but hopefully for something greater.

Law School has taught me a thing or two.

I have a block that I LOVE! (something I didn't fully appreciate back in College haha)
Value of hard work.
And value of self.

And yes, it is a freakin' marathon, a 5 year marathon.
It's something you have to keep up with or be at losing end.
But it's good to know that there are people running beside you because they know you need a little push and a little encouragement. Never ever underestimate the value of a little pep talk or a good word.

And yes, I love this life with all its difficulty, stupidity, and insanity.

May 04

A month ago, I was offered to have my Tarot read. I hesitantly obliged. It was very brief but quiet informative. I found out I was Chariot meaning that I often went against the norms and did things my way. I was also told that the fourth of May would bear some significance. May 04 has come and gone and boy was it something...

I checked my watch and it was already 2 a.m. His eyes looked tired and sleepy. I was tired as well. He had earlier joked me to not sleep until they left. I was determined not to sleep, wishing I could talk to him all night, the last night of his visit.

We talked about relationships. How some things just don't really work out. He talked about his ex, I talked about nothing in particular, holding back as much as could, scared to bare what was really on my mind.

But there were moments that I felt he just read me all too well. He told me to stop looking for answers to the wrong questions because it wouldn't really make any sense. He told me to stop overthinking, to quit getting ahead of myself. He told me that if we're really meant for someone, we'll eventually end up with that person. And when the time comes and you have to make a choice, you have to fight for it.

I was scared because I knew that I still wasn't sure if I could "fight for it". I was scared because he mattered. I think its come to a point wherein I was willing to risk Time and see a year from now if there was really something.

I still had a lot of growing up to do. Law school was just around the corner and I tried to avoid as much complication as possible.

I remember we were all lying on the beach the night before, just watching the stars. I wanted so much, like a child, to make a wish on the first star I saw that night. But I then I caught myself because I knew what my heart would wish for and I wasn't sure at all if my reality could handle it. Of course, I was sure that he was special, that he is always going to be someone in my life. I wasn't sure if I could risk everything. Torn between my dream and my dream guy, my friend says.

He was right, I haven't even answered Question A and already, I'm looking for answers to Question B.

I wasn't able to say what I wanted to say to him. I didn't feel it was "the moment". But that morning of May 4, he had given a new perspective on things and that I will forever cherish.

I didn't cry like some crazy person this time thank goodness haha... because somehow knew I'd see him again.

I am not afraid to say out loud, for all to read, that he is important and special to me and that made me realise that there are some things worth waiting for or worth not having at all. I know it's sad and pessimistic but I also know I do not want to limit myself to what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. Like he said, what will happen will happen.

I know it's such a weird point of view to have but perhaps the cards are right, I always go against what is usual.

"I made a special space for her in my life, sadly, she seemed to not fit in that space, that mould. I didn't want to cut her edges because she would no longer be the same person...Now, I cleaning up that space if ever someone new comes along..." -Paul

I Wonder What She's Thinking

She thinks about the one-who-got-away. And what she could've she done to make him stay. She wonders whether it was the right thing to do---to keep distance, to accept that he isn't right for her. He makes her laugh and treats her with respect, she thinks that they hit it off just great. But society dictates it isn't right, to take what isn't yours. She decides she'd find someone as funny as him, as spontaneous as him, as adorable as him. She heaves a sigh, closes her eyes, and says good-bye...in her mind. Maybe not quite ready to say it out loud.

I wonder if she misses him or thinks about him a lot. I wonder if she thinks of the what-ifs and if she'd been more daring and less considerate. Would things have been different? I admire her, though, for her integrity and her self-control. I wish I could tell her she'd meet someone better. But I simply couldn't. Because I really do not know.

She flashes her smile. She seems perfectly fine. Everything's going great for her. They think her life is dandy.

I wonder how she feels. Really. How she feels without pretension, without the walls.

She goes out and has a blast. She's even seeing someone new. The guy looks great, gets along just fine, he seems to think that she's just perfect. That she has everything figured out. The look in his eyes say it all: he's falling for her.

I wonder if she feels the same way. If she'll ever fall for him. She seems very perceptive. But possibly there's something more to her outer silence. A battle of heart and mind, perhaps? I wonder if she'll ever let go of her pride...and herself.

She's got her plans, her BIG plans. She's on her way to success.

I wonder if that's what she really wants or even more if it's enough.

I often wonder what she's thinking when she finds herself alone. Sittingly quietly sipping coffee. I wonder if beneath her facade, she feels the way we feel, laughs the way we laugh, loves the way we love.

With the look on her face, I wonder what she's thinking.

Lost

I am so lost these days.

I want to talk about so many things- politics, relationships, ideas, and even religion, maybe.

I haven't posted in a while. Mostly because I've been so preoccupied and also partially because I've realised I've got to be a little bit more cautious about what I say for fear of revealing too much about me. But I can't help it. I have to vent hehe...

Things have been going swell. I mean more than swell, really, if you think about it. I've met the most interesting of people and I've gotten to really know some of them. I've become more health conscious and all. I've kept myself updated with current events.

And at this point, I'm wondering why I still feeling so lost and even, I think, empty. I keep thinking about the things I REALLY want. It seems like am getting to where I want to be, honestly. But in the back of my head, what if it's not at all what I imagined it to be.

For one thing, perhaps, just like everyone else, you wait for that moment when someone will just sweep you off your feet. Maybe I've met him. Or not. But after much consideration, perhaps it's not what I need right now. And I guess only patience will tell.

And how about travel? I've haven't got plans yet but hopefully before I start schooling again this June, I get to go somewhere in Asia. Taiwan or maybe Korea?

I miss Bournemouth still. It'll be a year. I miss Sue and Bihter. I miss Paul. And I'm not scared to admit that.

I feel like I'm in the middle of a storm that's just beginning to brew. Like I have to be somewhere else, someone else.

Have you ever felt like that? That your life isn't yours? That no matter how hard you try to control it, it just wouldn't obey, wouldn't follow.

And somewhere, I dunno, I think I've become a bit of a cynic and a bit of an idealist. And those two just cancel themselves out that I end up not knowing what to believe or to believe at all. I risk being jaded and aloof and indifferent. And I've been struggling not to be one of those people who begin not to care.

And I've never felt so blah and lost and clueless. Because I'm starting to question whether what I've wanted, what I've worked for is something worth pursuing.

The Future is Present

(Warning: A jumble of thoughts follows.)

The Future is Present.

Read my white-printed-black-rectangular-"waitress"-pin.

I did seem to think about the future more often now.  Most probably because it'll be a new year in around 50 hours. Or maybe because I've been taking things a day at a time and it makes me restless to not know (and plan) for the long run. It's like Marga's future life is on indefinite hold.

I'm not exactly a future-driven person. I just like to be prepared, to be in control more than anything, I guess. I like to know where I'm going.

My use of the word "future'' does not pertain to all encompassing future. In terms of relationships, I'm afraid I'm not a person of commitment. Although I would very much want to be.(Commitment to my knowledge is very "future", a "will", a "going to" thing.)I just can't seem to do that right now. Maybe because I still need that little spot where I still have room to take a step back and see the bigger picture or room to breathe or room to undo mistakes. I don't want to be "held down" by commitments. No liabilities, simply put. But again, that's another story.

I am a selfish selfish little girl. I think of MY future. And MINE alone. I am still, after all, in that finding-myself-at-this-point phase. I think that's understandable, don't you? *evil laugh*

But seriously, when was the last time you thought about what'll happen 3 years from now? Or even an hour from now?  Or who you'll be? (And by that latter question, I meant will YOU be SOMEONE?). Or where you'll be, or who you'll be with? What'll you be doing?

And inevitably, the future starts now. Whether I am (we are) prepared or not. I'm loving Pink's song, "Who Knew" not because it's about having to know better or wishing you've known better or things you discover (or dont immediately discover) when you're "in love" but mostly because it's admitting that you've been stubborn, admitting that there are certain things that are out of our tiny hands. And we shouldn't regret. And the future's like that, doing things with just the right amount of faith and guts, as Baz Luhrman says "choices are half chance." And the future is something that goes wild when you forget to hold the reigns. You don't regret the things you did. You just remember. And know that at least you did something one way or another.

The future is present. Why not do something about it? The future is just a nanosecond away. In a blink of an eye, the future's right in front of you.

We're always under the impression that the future is a month from now or even a year from now. What we fail to realize it's simply now now now.

The future is present.

Thoughts to the Blinded

These days, it's all about passion.

It's about drive, and inspiration, and I maybe even hope.

But most of all it's about the new and the unsure and the going beyond my "safety zone". The letting go of the past but surely not its forgetting. Because there are always always lessons to be learned (and as much as possible never repeated).

***

Sitting with him and talking to him on that bench that sunny afternoon, I realised, it's all over. Just like that. Thank you. No more. It's one of those moments you imagined to more dramatic and more black and white like. I'm done done done with drama. It's so liberating.

***

And speaking of hope, I'm looking forward to someone's visit to the Philippines next year. I really hope his plans will push through. Astig, I'm excited!

***

I realised that there are just some things you just cannot change. Like that everyday shuttling from home to work or the flickering of the computer screen or the food you eat at the cafeteria. But there ARE (after all) things that make the day something. For me, it's meeting up with old friends (Eula and Mich!) or hanging out at the neighbourhood coffeeshop, or simply reading a good book. I have only recently discovered that passion does start with a spark and eventually illuminates life. I have also only so recently found passion in the mundane yet extraordinary. And I thank God so much for those moments. I am beginning to find something to smile about, to laugh about, to look forward to. It's like doing things for the first time.

Think about this:

When was the last time you did something for the first time?

***

We've become so jaded (as Aerosmith's song goes) that we forget the giddiness and the natural high that comes with doing something we love. I know A LOT of people share my sentiments. That routine is simply crazy. I hear you. Find something, anything that makes you feel brand new ( was that lame or was that lame?hehehe).But that's so true no matter how boyband-ish it may sound!

Also I was inspired by the women featured in Marie Claire's October issue (Philippines), how they look soooo young whereas they're already in their late 30s! And I think the common factor was that they lived and loved with passion and did things they enjoyed. And it shows, really. No anti-ageing product can achieve such effect.

***

And for those who forget how it is to have teeny-weeny spark in you, get in touch with an old friend, read your old diary, or listen to your favourite song. And maybe then you'll remember how it felt like (and perhaps do something about it?)

Good luck!

***

Don't be blinded.

Fiction

I think it’s a common saying that life is stranger than fiction. But I remember my Lit prof saying that same line (he said it in the best way) and me thinking how so ironically true it was. Because I guess life’s the stuff fiction is made of. And perhaps, life gets so weird that you’d rather think of it as a fabrication of imagination to be able to cope or even to better understand.

And maybe what I’m about to write is purely fictional. But it doesn’t really matter.

Playing inside my head was Starlight by Muse.

Had my night all set: I’d head out at around 9ish to catch the bus. Then we’d meet at around 9:20 at the square and head to the Bar. That night would be me and my classmates, my first “real” night out in a Bar with them.

I wasn’t really THAT psyched. I mean it sounded fun but the idea of me catching (or running after) the bus wasn’t something I was looking forward to. The walk home was worse! But I promised this classmate of mine I would go after announcing to the hall that he was going to dance with me (another thing I was dreading since I was TERRIBLE in the dance floor hehe).

So as I was lounging around, flipping through the channels with my housemates, I suddenly wasn’t up to partying at all. I preferred exchanging stories with them and watching Final Destination 3. But I said I’d go. So up I went to change. After trying on one outfit after another I realized that I had 10 minutes to run to the corner and catch the bus. I did reach the corner in, give or take, 10 minutes but I missed the bus. So I waited a bit in the bus stop, met some pretty strange (and drunk) people. I decided enough the amusement for the night so I headed back home to the pleasant surprise of my housemates.

I texted my classmates telling them I missed the bus (too bad). They didn’t reply right away so I assumed they didn’t need me to make their night (as if hehe). So I ended up being a couch potato for 30 minutes and then he called. I thought he was out of town so I was surprised to get a call from him. He asked where I was. And it ended with him saying he’d catch the last bus home. And I thought that’s that and I’d see him in class the next day. That’s if he decided to go to class.

Surprise, surprise! He called again. This time asking me to meet at the corner. He got a Take-away. He asked if I wanted to walk. Having cancelled all my lovely plans for the night, I figured that I might as well make the most of my frumpy outfit.

So off I went to meet him with a little grudge as my Take-away. I entered the Take-away place with a slight scowl. He greeted me by commenting on my big blue bag. “It seems you go everywhere with that,” he said with some amusement. I simply raised my chin in defense. We stepped out in the chilly night wind. I needed to pee. Really badly. And I told him so. We walked around 1.5 km. to the Supermarket.

Walking to our destination he explained himself. Why he hasn’t been to class, why he chose to stay in the City for a while, why he didn’t show my friends and I around as much as he wanted to when we went to the City. I wanted to believe him. But in the back of my head, he partied the whole 2 weeks. I didn’t argue because it wouldn’t do any of us any good. Then I remembered what he told me days back: “ If a guy tries to clear things up with someone, even if it means lying, than he must care for that person. I don’t think he’d bother to explain himself if he didn’t give a damn.” Remembering that, I simply kept quiet. He sometimes did see things in unconventional ways.

But I think what made it all forgivable was the Sorry. Quiet and unsure and almost shy. As if it took so much of his energy, his pride, to say it. And that for me was the most sincere sorry I’ve heard from a guy who often acted aloof.

Finally reaching our destination ( and FINALLY being able to take a leak), we bought some Fantas to refresh. And then, it rained.

Few drops and we thought we could make a run for it. I offered my scarf as a windbreaker (it was useless). As if sensing our efforts to escape, the drops multiplied and poured like mad, forcing us to retreat to the covered parking lot.

We sat on the benches and talked about the stuff people talk about when they’re stranded in the middle of a covered parking lot. We talked about how life should be and should’ve have turned out.

He talked about the girls he’s met. How you party with the “blondes”, bond over drinks, and have crazy fun. How you fall in love with "brunettes" with their secrets, and endless conversations, and “couchpotato-ness”. He talked about the things that make you regret but make you learn. He talked about the things you already know but haven’t really thought about. “ They teach you all these things, how to be great and achieve your goals but they never tell you what to do when you fail, when you’re finding a hard time to get There. You learn these things for yourself.” he said half to himself. Stuff.

And just like all of us, there’s always a story of unrequited love. The one who made us fall and break into pieces.

How truly hard it is to get over someone.

And he asked about my unrequited someone. I said a name and that was that. With a nod, he seemed to have understood.

The more I listened to him, the more I realized that in a week’s time I would miss him. Not because he looked like some Asian superstar, not because he chose his words with great care when he spoke, not because he was surprisingly a gentleman, and definitely not because I would be leaving in a week But mostly because, amid all the mushiness I’ve blurted out, this is the cheesiest of all: Because now I’m sitting in front of someone who is real enough to admit the shit he’s done and unpretentious and unassuming enough to show he’s capable of sentimentality and emotion (and he is, by the way, undeniably charming in his own right). And that mattered to me. The rest, you get the picture…

On the walk home, drenched and laughing, I realized that this night was a cliché come to life.

And under the lamp’s bright white light, I hugged him good night.

If ever he does exist or not, I want to thank him.

I miss how things were.

There are mornings wake up and yearn for change.

I try to make it a point to do something different each day. That doing-something-new-each-day includes waking up way too early to join a Monday pilates session in the office! No matter how out of shape I am since my varsity days, I still manage to squeeze in a bit of exercise. And that's good right? And that doing-something-different also means giving arnis a try! Yep, now it's Filipino martial arts.  What next? I actually find it quite amusing trying the things I never thought I'd try. Arnis was such a struggle for me years back in high school PE. My obvious lack of coordination (and maybe grace) made me swear off arnis from my future endeavors list. But hey, big surprise, I'm finding it pretty enjoyable right now.

More 'attempts' include artsifying my life. I miss the trying-hard artist in me which my very supportive friends, erm, support (read: mock! hehe). But I still very much insist that I'm an artists at heart haha...

But all those aside, I'm still bored. Not the bored with nothing to do bored but the kind of bored which is characterized by predictability and routine. Hell, I'm up to my neck with deadlines and commitments, one would question how i could possibly be bored. I dunno, I guess I just feel that I'm missing out on a lot. We have so much time, I mean we ARE temporal beings. Yet it's so ironic that we have so little of it. We have so little at our disposal.

Perhaps we're all so caught up with making a living that we forget we have a life. That we forget that the four corners of an office (or classroom) isn't everything.

My friend asked me what success was. I don't know what it is anymore. Maybe it means making everyday count? Or amassing huge sums of moolah. I don't know. Maybe it's what Dumbledore of Rowling's Harry Potter said, that the happiest man in the world would look into the Mirror of Erised see only himself since it " shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts".

And maybe when I figure out what success is to me, what I really want in life, how live it and get out of this rut, then maybe then I'd find that I don't have to constantly distract myself from reality because reality then would be more than bearable.

Obsessive Compulsive

She told me to write it down. She told me it would be fine.

So I write it down. But still it isn't fine.

She told me it would be good practice anyway.

And so I write.

Write (or type) without much thought.

Every Sunday, I try to cram jam and stuff in my often stubborn head all the words I hear and see on the pieces of white sheet in front of me. Words running across the pages. I scribble on the perfectly lined paper of my notebook. I work around the borders. Underline underline underline. Until my papers are beyond recognition with arrows and lines and dots and words and little drawings.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. I buy the newspaper. Sometimes I feel it makes me look a tad smarter. I read. I read the headlines. Sometimes I don't even bother skimming or even glancing at the awfully toxic-smelling newsprint.  I just buy. Again, I guess, out of impulse.Out of habit. Out of the fact that I feel that I try. That I try to keep up with this world, that I try to remind myself that it's not always about me. Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I wish the world would just sloooow down so that I could catch up. And not feel so out of place.

I hate Mondays. There's always a feeling of foreboding.

Tuesdays are so-so. I remember sunny side ups. Tuesdays feel yellow.

Wednesdays are fine. Mid-week is good. I think of barbecue and red.

Thursdays. The day I go to somewhere.

Fridays. Who doesn't love Fridays?

Saturdays are peaceful.

Week after week after week.

Same old.

And then, there's everything else in between. The falling in love, the meeting friends, the mind-numbing commutes, the eating, the little office chit-chats, the wishing to be some place else, the thinking, the talking, and the socializing. In no particular order.

And sometimes you wonder if you'll ever feel as giddy or amazed or as fulfilled as the first time, when you first "fell" in love or took one hell of a photograph or even talked a geniune talk.

Sometimes I begin to doubt.

Because it's all the same. Re-runs, re-makes. Repeat repeat again and again. It's an obsessive-compulsive state. It's an obsessive- compulsive world. Yeah.