Dreamscape

I've been having these dreams lately. They're very surreal.

It's a montage of all the people I have been thinking about lately - consciously and subconsciously. I only remember bits and pieces, but what I do remember are the people who were in it.

I've been dreaming about him. How could that be? He is currently gallivanting in Italy. I dreamed that he was in his office table, writing, while I was sitting in front of him, curiously watching him.

In the dream, I still desire him. Perhaps a manifestation of suppressed passion?

Then there were Jonathan and Che. I was walking behind them while they were hugging each other. A sign that he is ready for the taking?

The Boyfriend was in it, too, but I couldn't see him clearly. I was trying to reach for him and call him.

I couldn't find him.

Is this another forewarning?

Lying Naked

by Trevor Landers
(08/21/02)

I imagine her, lying naked
with fulsome breasts
telling the truth
exposing
more than flesh
and kingdoms have been fought and lost
for the touch of skin

Ang labo mo

Umalis ka ba sa buhay ko
Para lang bumalik
At guluhin itong muli?

Lumisan ka nang may galit
Bakit ba gusto mo pa ako ulit makita?
Para ba makikamusta?

Akala ko ba galit ka?
Labo mo talaga.

Reminiscent of the past

It's as if I am revisiting emotions from the past. Just like the Paolo incident two years ago.

Do I want to go back? Or do I want to stay in my comfort zone?

I don't think I need the distraction.

Jovan has a twin brother

And so we all thought one is enough.

But no. He has an alter ego.

Morny looked like Jovan, only smaller.

They have the same voice timbre, same mannerisms, same expressions.

I wonder who feels shortchanged with this funny twist of fate.

Hahahaha!

Peace, Jovan.

When your trust is betrayed by a string of lies, how can you start over again?

What if trust and honesty for you are what can make or break a relationship?

If the trust is gone, is it downhill from there?

Ghost of my past

My past is still haunting and taunting me.

I dreamed of her last night. Her face wasn't clear. In fact it wasn't her face, but in the dream, I was certain it was her.
She was skinnier. She was wearing this white silk blouse.

The dream was a bit hazy, but I knew it was her with me. We are amidst people we knew in the dream but in reality, I had no inkling who they were.

I wanted to stay in the dream. I wanted to dwell on the haze, to dwell on her presence.

7:30am.

My mobile rang. It was The Boyfriend giving me a wake up call.

Time to go back to my real world.

I am a very lucky girl

I'm early to the office today. You can tell from the time I published this blog.

As I got off the cab, I walked through the glass doors of our building. I was wearing my shades so I
couldn't see the people from afar.

When I got closer to the elevator, I saw a familiar sight. I squinted. I wanted to make sure.

Yap. It's him alright.

He smiled.

I removed the Danube shades. I smiled back.

He introduced me to his officemate. The hell - I forgot the officemate's name.

What do I care, anyway.

He volunteered to bring my gym bag. I apologized and told him it's heavy.

As we went in the elevator, he stood next to me.

We talked about common friends, the weather, sales, etc.

His shoulder brushed through mine. He was way taller than me but he leaned back on the wall so
we were shoulder to shoulder. This way we were able to chat quietly, amidst seven or more people
inside the elevator.

He mouthed several compliments.

"You're so pretty today."

"Yeah, yeah."

"You think I'm pulling your leg?"

Thought bubble in my head: "Dang! Your'e from sales!"

He was whispering in my ear.

It was very clear that he was FLIRTING.

Dang! He's doing a hell of a job.

As I was about to reach my floor, he gave me my gym bag and wished me a nice day.

I did the same.

I'm a very claustrophobic person but this was one of the very few times that I wanted to get stuck in the elevator.

For bloggers or bloggistas, as some would call them, one clear indication that they're still alive is the frequency of their updates,
or when the last time they updated their blogs.

Peach, buhay ka pa ba? Isang buwan ka nang hindi nagpaparamdam.

Emuriel,

If you're reading my blog, check this out:

One of my friends is intrigued about you. I forwarded your blogger to her, asked her to read it
every now and then.

She likes "your kind" - those who are into techie and geeky stuff. She said you write well. She's
a writer. She wants to meet you.

Yi-heeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

There's a catch, though.

She's engaged.

Tsk.

Sayang.

Belated happy birthday, Bobby!

Looking forward to that dinner with you on Wednesday.

Wisdom acquired over the weekend:

Everything boils down to the people around you, the people who are important in your life.

Even at work, you finish a task not for the sake of the task itself. Things will have a clearer
perspective if seen with people in mind. You do the task with people.

Says Stephen Covey.

Not seeing eye to eye

There are times when two people have the same goals but have different ways of obtaining them. There may not exactly be a right or wrong way of reaching the goals, but sometimes, the means of achieving it matter - especially if you are a couple. Although I am not an advocate of the Machiavellian belief that the end justifies the means, the latter is still very crucial.

In the middle of this week, the Boyfriend and I had a very big disagreement on how to resolve something. There was a major fuss over it. Up to this day, we are still very adamant about our opposing positions. The end-result: we are both distant and slightly apathetic to each other.

I acknowledge my fault. When something went wrong with a plan last Wednesday, I made him feel he was to blame for it. Although he didn't mention it, I know he got pissed off because what came across was not just "It's all your fault," but a whopping "You are so stupid."

I am sorry about it. I'm sorry that I made him feel bad about himself.

I didn't mean it.

But what I can't apologize for is the way I do things. He said I'm too structured when it comes to my plans. For him, it felt like no one - not even him - can deter me from doing and achieving something. No one can just ruin my plan or they will get hell from me.

Very true.

But this is me. This is my driven, go-getter self speaking, thinking and breathing.

I cannot apologize for it as it is tantamount to apologizing for who I am.

I am not just about to. I like how I do things. "My way" got me this far without his help.

It's not fair for me to be asked "where does US fit in the picture?" or "when will you ever acknowledge that we are in this together?"

Perhaps the thing to ask him is, are you willing to accept that this is me?

This is my package.

Take it or leave it.

Inside an air-conditioned bedroom
with a thick quilted comforter
reading Ben Okri's The Famished Road
sipping hot chocolate sprinkled with cinnamon
listening to D'Sound playing

Yep.

This is where I wanna be
what I wanna do.

Late in the afternoon, when I was about to leave the office, this conversation with Jovan ensued:

Jovan: hey! are you there?

Me: yeah. wassup ?

Jovan: missed you na. haven't talked with you in a long while. how's it hanging?

My interjection: Duh! This guy doesn't talk this way. Never talked this way. A big question mark was hanging on my head. So I asked:

Me: huh??? what's up with you???

Jovan: been out buging this girl from _______.

Me: nililigawan mo na? dang! update your blog!

Jovan: nililigawan? hmmm. that's a good question. maybe not yet. but i think she's ok. very down to earth.boingy boingy and sweet. the girl of my dream!

Oh.

So that was what it was about.

Sounds like Dakila is in luuuuuuv (with the twang on the luuuuuuuv). Or just infatuated, perhaps?

Enjoy the ride, dude!

'Wag mo ko kakalimutan kapag may gurlaloo ka na.

Hah! I'm not a blog addict after all!

See?

18.75 %

My weblog owns 18.75 % of me.
Does your weblog own you?

When it comes to physique, the past doesn't matter

I have my reasons why I'm blogging about this, but I couldn't write it here.

I just thought about all the ugly-ducklings in the world who transformed into swans later in life.

Some of them are still unassuming about how beautiful they have become. Others have come to know the power that their beauty can hold, realizing that they can now avenge themselves from the tirades and mockery they were once victimized of.

Some say its a capital sin. It's vanity.

But sometimes, vindictiveness is understandable.

Missing the AS kids

Is it just me or is it my MA and all the school papers that I need to do?

I think I'm being more emotional. I miss my college buddies. As to how much, you tell me.

At 4:00pm last Saturday, I impulsively called Niño in Los Angeles to say hi. No particular reason for doing so. I just missed the guy. Onin, sorry. I didn't intend to diss your birthday and your send-off. Things were much of a rollercoaster ride for me that time.

I spent half my prepaid load talking to him! Arg. That was fun, though. And a bit sad.

Last Saturday, too, my AS friends kept on sending me text broadcasts. It was Moshe's birthday. Dude, happy 26th(?) birthday.

Moshe celebrated it in the coño highlands of Tagaytay. I still can't picture him in his self-proclaimed probinsyano coutoure. Sorry, Moshe. Going to Banaue doesn't make you rural. Like it or not, I still think AS blood runs through your veins.

Panet is sending daily am text broadcasts! Panet! You're alive!

Or should you be the one telling me that?

Hope we guys can get together for Arnold's birthday.

I miss Niño's swimming pool.

The same hurtful experience

I read Emer's blog about the brooch and the girl. Don't worry about it. If you think that's pathetic, well I guess I'm as pathetic as you.

What a coincidence. It's funny in some sort of demented way.

This Tuesday, while I was cleaning my CD rack, I came across 2 CDs that I intentionally buried into the deep recesses of my bookshelf. These are the 2 old-school RnB CDs that the X from New Jersey shipped during one of our anniversaries.

She gave me several CDs - collectibles from Broadway, South Border, Gary V's Interactive, etc., but I hid the two CDs in particular. They have the two songs that I swore not to hear again - ever. Not in this lifetime! The songs reeked of vows of fidelity, love - yada-yada-yada - the usual shit that I am very cynical of.

Fidelity my foot! One weekend in Atlantic City and she fucked this girl whom she said looked like her nanny!

I don't know why I still cringe at the sight of those CDs. I didn't want to touch them, too. It's like I'm scared that it would burn my fingers and the heat would shrivel down my resolve to loathe and hate her for as long as I live. And for as long as I can recall how she was capable of hurting me.

I surprised myself that time, too. I didn't know I was capable of feeling that tremendous pain. It felt like it was growing inside me, like it's going to devour me anytime that I allow it.

Oh well. I didn't have much choice to but to pick up the CDs. I brought them with me to the office. I lent them to a friend who's also into ghetto shit music.

When she returned them to me, I mustered enough courage to play them in my discman.

First CD, first song. Hmm... not bad. Then came the second, 'til I was able to finish the entire thing.

Twasn't that bad at all. In fact, I didn't feel anything. No twitching or thub-thumping on my chest. No nothing.

Though I'm still not complacent. One day, she will be back. Hell, I'm dreading that awful day when I would have to face her again and pretend that I don't feel anything anymore.

I know I would. But it's for me to know, and for me not to let her find out.

Frenzied Friday

6:44 pm in the office. Everyone, and I mean everyone, from my team is still working their butts off. There should be a celebratory mood but three of us will be working tomorrow. What a way to spend a Saturday.

Our outlet: to laugh at each other during brainstorming sessions.

Never forget your sense of humor during stressful moments.