Precious

There simply is no one way of describing how I exactly mean about how I feel.

My friend Sam nailed it when she said that I'm an epitome of how life is truly a roller coaster. One minute I was up, the next, down. Half a week ago I was immensely happy, scared but happy, on an all-time high. It's like the feeling back in high school. I was accepting responsibilities after responsibilities, challenges after challenges. And it's not to say I am now less ambitious than how I was back then. The responsibilities now are just, uhm, well, bigger and heavier that feeling thrilled isn't enough. The "ill" in "thrill" which could very well stand for "chill" should be more enhanced than anything else to remind me that life, seven years after, in reality, isn't high school anymore. There is no mommy anymore I can cry to when the cliche "going gets tough and tough gets going" appears to challenge my emotions. Moreover, being the former law student, I very well know the word "daddy" is no longer enough to scare off or shield me from those who eagerly will like to exact the punishment, justifiable or not, in case I make the wrong move.

And still I can't help but ask, how is it possible that a pundit like me, schooled in the best of institutions in no mean way, is reduced to tears with a single statement of repudiation. Or maybe it's justification enough that when it comes to hurting or getting hurt, there can be no gentle way of saying it. It could be long, done one step at a time, or it could be short and brief, one single moment of pain that's all in. But no matter how one tries to allude the emotions to the experience of physical pain, it's never gonna be the same.

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Then I'll say I am doing it again. My ramblings not doing any good to at least help me provide a more or less concrete way of defining how I feel, what I mean.

Another friend's words of how a guy should feel lucky for a girl is dating him were but mere balm to how I feel. Temporary, yeah, uplifting but doesn't solve anything, let alone be enough in describing the complexity.

Or maybe, at least just for the sake of NOT sounding like my ex (yeah, the recent one, therefore, the strongest influence in the way I feel today, lucky bastard), I'll go straight to the point. Yeah, yeah, it's about, yet again, another guy.

For the first time in a really long time, I knew I found again somebody who's in my level. Somebody who, I knew, I need not stoop for or reach out to. Somebody I need not decrease my standards for. Somebody who, probably, is at par with me (I still wouldn't know, would I?) more so in terms of being steadfast enough to admit and (or even) embrace the fact that the word "emotion" is a resident in his vocabulary.

Needless to say, all my defenses crumbled. It was just one talk, it was just one brief meeting, and yet for all the rational logic concerned, I am suddenly restless. For how is one to just accept that fate, like a teasing moron, would give her a glimpse of what she wants only for it to be taken out of her sight, way out of her reach, with a tongue sticking out in gradeschool-like victory? (I love this line, might as well copy-paste it, *lol*)

Let's see what's the main score with this one. He's a writer, good point. He's a hopeless romantic, better point. He's at least taller than me, could deal with that. He's smart, way better point. He's a musician, one way or another, even way better point. He's better looking in person and is not to say he looks bad in feectures, hmmm... yeah I could deal with that. Haha. And so who am I fooling?! The girl-who-has-just-been-advised-not-to-settle-for-anything-less, after ten months of God-knows-who-she-has-been-dating-from-the-point-of-downhill, is finally knocked out after just one pathetic round. Sick, but in-denial-me has definitely lost it right from the very start. And I am so damn frustrated for the contradiction and the plot/connivance to reduce the climax of my career-focused happiness to below zero with just one less than 24-hour kilig moment.

Or maybe I could reserve my frustration punch to the gradeschool ignoramus who, after condemning my affairs, found the gall to badly criticize my physique. But this is another story.

posted by Precious @ Monday, January 29, 2007 1 comments links to this post

Moving on attempts that will never ever work

In a desperate attempt to kill time, I spent half a day spending what would surely seem like an amount that would make my dad kill me. At my last stop, while I was still conscious that half a month's toxic work pay could possibly evaporate in just half a day, I sifted through my wallet for spare coins and crumpled bills. What I found had me forming tears in my eyes.

A year ago, the Cardenas family had its annual family reunion. The first Sunday of January is usually the date reserved for the affair. As I can clearly recall, said month was the last month when mom could still walk.

At work yesterday, I had a fight with my dad over a recorded (as per freakin' policy of Citigroup) phone conversation as he angrily persuaded me to ditch the company's kick-off party to attend the two-day reunion. Today, the first day of the reunion, I finally won the fight in convincing my dad that I'd just join on the second day.

It certainly couldn't have been any more coincidental. The reunion, what I found in my wallet...

Mom's 2x2 picture that I placed in my new wallet had me recalling tough but happier times. She was struggling to stay alive. I was struggling in helping my dad make both ends meet. I had no time or chance to splurge on myself. But I was happy, more than happy that in the little things I did, I knew I was doing something that certainly helps.

Now after more than a year of depriving myself of a well-deserved spa and finally getting to treat myself because of money to spare, I still ended with tears in my eyes.

A few months after mom's death last year, a Hollywood celebrity who just gave birth lost on the same day her first born son who visited her. It was quoted in the magazine article where I read said news that "you never move on, you get through".

I guess the whole point just boils down to said idea. Whatever loss you encountered - break-ups, loss of loved ones due to death - this becomes a part of you that you could never take away or just erase or even forget. You don't move on. You get through. Which is why it's okay to cry every now and then. Which is why it's never a sign of weakness when you cry.
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Which is why up to now I still can't accept what my mom's ex said about me a month after my month's death about not being able to move on.

posted by Precious @ Saturday, January 06, 2007 0 comments links to this post

I'm an addict

I finally gathered enough courage to fix my blog here at blogspot. Although my blog at Friendster has been really reliable in serving its primary purpose, I feel it's time to move on and stop pestering those in my friend list with daily notification e-mails concerning my blog updates (hey it's not my fault; that's why there's an "edit your settings" tab there, hehe).

posted by Precious @ Sunday, September 17, 2006 0 comments links to this post