Cheers to February!

I started the Love Month on my deathbed but ended it with a bang. So, what happened in February 2012?

Aside from being diagnosed with Upper Respiratory Tract Infection (again) and spending the first two days of the month in quarantine, I missed my appointment in Department of Foreign Affairs for my passport. I planned to get my passport this summer for Team Malaysia's out of the country experience together, but things got rough and I got sick, so I passed. I intended to set another appointment, but the passport failed to reach my top five short term priorities. Anyway, hopefully I'd be able to remember it this March.

I was under medication for eight days. Imagine my life without beer for eight consecutive days. I was a lot slower and more stupid than my usual self. Actually, the doctor advised me to take antibiotics for 10 days, but on my 8th day, I forgot to bring my meds with me. And I was offered beer during the Feast of St. Guillermo and Virgin del Rosario in Pasig. 

In this feast, two important things happened: one, I forgot my phone in my officemate's house. That was the first time I forgot my phone. Ever. Two, I rekindled an old flame and started to appreciate life, culture, and diversity again.

After that, I went to Cagayan de Oro with Tin and Faith. Ekat was supposed to be with us, but she OD-ed herself and woke up two hours before our flight to CDO.

The trip to CDO was a humbling experience. I saw some of the evacuation sites for Sendong victims. I was able to observe people from different walks of life. Though I did not taste the real life in CDO, at least, I was slightly exposed to the reality in the area. Despite the harsh realization, I was still able to enjoy exploring some of its areas and spending most of our stay there in sleeping and watching re-runs of HIMYM in our hotel room. 

Four days after the trip, I got my head hammered by alcohol at the Phi Lambda Delta Sorority's Impulse: Straight Up, No Chaser event at Republiq. It was my first time to go there, I would admit. (I am not a party party girl. I am more of a chillax beer drinker.) And it was definitely an experience. I, together with other friends, drank to our heart's content. The peg was "drink 'til you die." We were able to drink, dance, sit. It was more than what we paid for, really. Definitely sulit! All thanks to Gellai, of course! 

The next day, I woke up with a monster hangover in Manila. I slept for another two hours and everything went hazy from there. The next thing I knew, I was in MOA, meeting Briege, Jemuel, and Abi for Star Wars: Phantom of the Menace 3D. Unfortunately, the mall was not showing Star Wars anymore. We walked the under the exploding man-made stars during the Pyrolympics and decided to go to Tagaytay. In which case, I found myself drinking with them until the five in the morning. 

After getting intoxicated for two consecutive nights, I once again realized the beauty of living young, wild, and free. It was not exactly good for the health, but memories were made during times of drunken stupor. And these memories would probably be the stories you'd share with your future grandchildren. 

Having a twin monster hangover, I headed back to Manila in the afternoon and went straight to Cafe Polli (their coffee is cheap but tastes good!) to meet Gellai, who just came from Baguio at the time. After spending some quality time together (that included I surfing the net and she studying for an exam), we, together with Gela, went to Ping Mang to have dinner.

I was on the third day of recovery from my intense liver and physical workout when I was assigned to set foot in Sorsogon. Exhausted and still a little hungover from my previous engagements, I woke up one hour before my flight to Legaspi City. Good thing I live 30 minutes away from the airport, I was able to be at the boarding area (after several mishaps like going through the entrance for male passengers twice, etc.) at exactly 6:10am, just in time for the delayed boarding. 

After landing in Legaspi, I, together with other officemates, had breakfast at Bigg's Diner (probably one of the coolest diner I've seen by far). In search for Marshall's Burger (aka the Best Burger), I ordered Bacon with Mushroom Cheeseburger. After a few bites, I decided to shortlist it alongside burgers from Wham! Burgers, Wendy's, Mcdo, Burger Brothers, Slammers, and Angel's (for more taghirap moments, you know.)  After stuffing ourselves with food, we then headed to Sorsogon. After two hours of sticking our assess to the seat, we found ourselves in Vera Maris, a resort that I deemed as the perfect venue for Shake, Rattle and Roll experiences. After checking in, we had our lunch at Cafe Rosita, which is probably the coziest place in Gubat, Sorsogon. We stayed in Sorsogon for three days and two nights for fieldwork. We headed back to Legaspi on the night of our third day to catch the first flight to Manila. 

Back in Manila, I had to face reality--work. On the last few days of the month, my fuse broke. It must be due to stress, unmet expectations, raging hormones, and other things I'd rather keep to myself. Nevertheless,  diplomacy ruled after letting out my bottled thoughts and emotions. All's well that ends well. 

_____________________________

*This is subject to revision in the future 

**I'd probably post another blog entry about my food choices in February, let me just take my time. 

Multiple Choices

I have been trying to write a blog entry for the past two weeks, but I just can't seem to finish anything that I started. 

I tried writing about my Cagayan de Oro trip and how I proved the mantra: what goes around comes around. I tried composing something about my Valentine's Date and what I came to realize after it. I tried finishing an article about friendship, alcohol, and Friday Nights and morning afters. I tried writing about unplanned road trips and drunken nights. But I just could not seem to finish anything. Is it because a.) I am busy with other things; b.) I am just too lazy to think; c.) Writing is not and will never be an easy task; d.) I am happy; or e.) all of the above?

The answer is, of course, E. All of the above.

A. I am busy with other things. Since November 2011, things are slowly unfolding before me. I never thought of being a government employee at the age of 21. (Yes, a government employee under the current administration. Who would have thought, right? If you knew me in college, you'll understand what I mean.) Much more, I never thought of being busy given the idea of a typical government employee. Guess, I was wrong. Aside from work, I have also been spending most of my time reading or sleeping or going out and/or drinking with friends.

B. I am just too lazy to think. Enough said. 

C. Writing is not and will never be an easy task. I need to feel it, and the feeling only comes once in a blue moon. 

D. I am happy. One cannot simply write when happy, because things are too hazy. Thanks to happy hormones. I must feel down or angry or totally moved in order to write. I just cannot write when I am happy. Why? Because words drown in elation. 

So, yeah. I guess, that's just it. 

By Academic Standards

And the constant battle with myself begins... 

Reasons why I think I am not an achiever (by academic standards):

1. I did not graduate with a laude standing.
2. I was not active in school.
3. I was pretty mediocre in school.
4. I don't have a title (like Engr., Dr., Atty., PhD blah blah blah)
5. My life choices were stupid. 

Reasons why I should think that I am an achiever:

1. I sent myself to school. 
2. I worked my ass off to pay for school-related stuff (alcohol, food, etc.)
3. I had good grades. 
4. I was a drunkard who graduated on time. 
5. I made my mom proud of me. 

I am pretty sure that academic standards will not and should not be the basis of my own person, but still... I have issues right now. I know I cannot do something about the past. It's just that it pays to reflect on it for us to be able to understand the present. Oh well. 

Side B

Can you keep a secret? Because I have a confession to make. 

This is hard for me. I'd appreciate it if this admission will stay between the two of us. I don't usually do this, but I guess it is high time that I acknowledge this version of me. So, here it is: I think less of myself more than what I admit to the world.

To put it simpler, I am insecure. I am this big ball of insecurity. I sure don't look like it, but I feel it. The insecurity gnaws my being. It sucks my awesomeness as a person. I know I should not feel that way or even think that way, but I am human, too. I have my own issues. 

People tell me that I am one of the most confident people they've met, that they are amazed by how I don't give a fuck about everyone's standards and norms, that blah blah blah. Sure, thanks. But here's the truth: that's just a facade.

I'd like to think that I am really all that and more, but every time I do so, the more I realize that I am just this pretentious, full of shit, annoying, and insecure girl (Yes, talk about self-pity.) The more I think, the more I realize that I've amounted to nothing (based on the society's standards or success) for the past years. I may only be saying this because I have achiever college friends, but I don't know. I am not comparing myself to them. It's just that, I want more for myself. Do I even make sense? I mean, where am I right now? Sure, I have many aspirations in life and for my future, but what am I doing with my life right now? What are these life choices I've made? What have I done to myself? How will I be able to get through this period? What to do? What to do? Oh. Shit. Not. Again. 

I have nothing. I am nothing. Maybe in another time, I would argue that having nothing and being nothing is actually a good thing. But not this time. Not this time. 

Everything fades into memories

There's nothing like the first real heartbreak. It burns like the cold, sending chills down your spine, paralyzing your senses. It pierces through your soul like a newly oiled sword, leaving you breathless and incapacitated. Something always has to remind you of something with someone somewhere. The random replay of memory of what was sends you into the twilight zone. It seems pointless, but it feels like it only happened yesterday. But one must move on. One must realize his or her worth. One must be free from the past.

It's never too late

Here goes the long overdue year-end assessment. 

Let’s just say that 2011 was a rough ride for me. It was full of challenges, difficulties, and wisdom. But one thing I am sure of—I got out of it alive and stronger than I could possibly be. So, what happened in 2011?

• I forgot my worth. 
• I became the person I didn’t want to be.
• I hurt the people who love me.
• I failed the people I love.
• I said things I did not mean.
• I broke someone’s heart.
• I got my heart broken. 

All because...

• I fell in love.

I hated myself for the things that I did, for the person that I’ve become, but I learned my lesson well. I learned things that only experience can teach. In the process , I gained what I’ve lost. I prolly received more than I deserve. And I am thankful. I am grateful that I experienced those things, because in the end, I acquired something more—wisdom. 

Now, I’ll take one step at a time. Here’s to 2012 and what lies ahead.

P.S.:

2011, you were one hell of a ride. You went tough on me, thank you. I needed that. Now, all I can say is GOOD RIDDANCE!

My History on Love

Relationship request from [insert name here]: Accept or Reject?

Today, I will get too personal. Today, I will talk about my past relationshits and what I learned from them. Before we start, let me just tell you that:

• I am not after the looks.
• I rarely have "couple" pictures taken.
• I am not into labels.
• I usually make bad decisions.

So, it might be hard for me to explain whatever it was that transpired between me and him. Please bear with me. 

The Childhood Sweetheart. We were in fifth grade. At the time, I paid no attention to boys and attraction. The term "crush" was alien to me. All I cared about were books, friends, and physical games. I was a dork even before. I was a transferee, and he was the first one to notice me. He befriended me and we clicked instantly. Not long after, we found ourselves spending lunch breaks together, goofing around the school together, and pranking anyone in the school (even the teachers). We even walked home together. We were practically best of friends. In our sixth grade, he started acting weird and suddenly got shy around me. He then started sending me letters, which I totally ignored because I hated reading letters. Things changed after that. We started ignoring each other as if we were not friends. It was only four months before our graduation that he told me the content of his letters. Apparently, he liked me... more than friends. Being impulsive and totally mental, I told him, "Yeah? Let's try being more than friends then." His reaction: ecstatic. Mine? Bored. After that day, I went back to ignoring him. We didn't talk until three days before graduation. He asked me what happened between us. I shrugged and told him I was sorry. And we were back to being strangers. 

Lesson learned: Don't say something and then walk away like nothing happened. If you say it, then fucking mean it. 

The Easy Target. I was in first year college. I met him through a common friend. We started out as friends. Things were easy with him. We didn't have to pretend we were somebody we were not. I knew his secrets and how his mind worked; he knew mine. We talked to each other almost everyday always until dawn. We were smooth sailing. Not until he asked me to be his girlfriend. I told him I didn't believe in labels. At first, it was okay with him. But I could only push someone too much. Three months after the no label spiel, he wanted a label. I was bored, and said okay. Three weeks into the "label," I quit. At the time, I had a lot of issues to deal with, so I left him without even saying goodbye.  

Lesson learned: Some people were just meant to be friends. Relationship and feelings cannot be forced to someone. 

The Summer Love Affair. First year going second year college. He was the first person I dated. From the very start, I knew his intentions. He was very clear about it. He wanted me to be his girlfriend. With label. I didn't know what got into me, but I actually gave him a chance. I gave myself the opportunity to prove to myself that maybe I wasn't a frigid and heartless person. The day we got "together," he wanted me to meet his family. I told him I wasn't ready yet. Instead of saying okay, he told me that he wanted to meet mine. What I did was, I let him meet my high school friends. He was the first guy I tagged along to a Barkada Lunch. However, nothing was easy with him. I had to be feminine and perfect around him. I had to extend more understanding and patience, because our wavelengths weren't the same. I also had to make the effort to reach out to him. We were so different, but realizing my relationshit history, I had to make the relationship last for at least more than three months. It didn't last that long, because I caught him cheating on me with someone else. 

Lesson learned: Don't settle for anything less than what you deserve. 

The Teenage Dream. After being cheated on, I focused on acads, friends, and beer. A year after my failed first labeled relationship, I met this guy. He was one of the students in my summer class. He was funny and bursting with energy. He wasn't stunning, but he was interesting--interesting enough to get and to keep my attention. He asked for my number. He called me and things took off from there. Since then, my weekends would consist of Saturday Movie day and Sunday Church day--with him. He made me feel like a girl, like I was special. Effort wasn't much of an issue on both sides. Everything felt right whenever we were together. I didn't mind being mushy and stupid with him. I even made him a poem (yes, I did, judge me then.) The relationshit would have lasted for more than 6 months, had I not fallen in love with someone else. 

Lesson learned: Some things are better left unsaid. 

The One that Got Away. He came to my life while I was having my teenage dream fulfilled by someone else. I met him on a Tuesday (the day I decided to ditch my majors to think over my life and life choices) while I was killing myself with nicotine. He said something that made me smile inside. He was the first guy who told me that. I didn't say anything, but I smirked at him. Exactly a week after that, he asked our common friends for my number and sent me a message. My first reflex was to assume that he was being friendly since he was already warned that I was dating someone else. My second reflex was to friendzone him. So I did both. Things were going pretty well. We were friends who loved to talk about music, literature, and random stuff. We were friends until my Eros shot me with his arrow. I knew I had to stop. And I did. I stopped talking to him and vanished into thin air from his world. 

Lesson learned: Someone will come to your life, change how you view the world, and then leave you perhapsless and stuck in reverse. 

The Counterpart. It took me years to get over The One That Got Away. I didn't think I was ready to get emotionally attached to someone. So, I played the game I played before--the art of being a humanoid. I set foot on this guy's territory, marked him as my own, and left him years ago. Life was okay for him, until I knocked on his door. This time, I had no intention of running away, but I also had no intention of staying. I just wanted to kick back and relax. In the end, it didn't work out for us. We were too much alike that it became boring and predictable. 

Lesson learned: Beware of boredom. It will force you to make decisions you will regret later. 

The Revolution. Coming soon...

Lesson learned: You'll know it when you feel it. Fall in love again, because second chances are always magical. 

I Wish I Knew How to Quit You

Nicotine Level: 15% -- Dismiss?

I've been a regular smoker for 4 years now. It started as an experiment when I was five or eight. I saw my older sister and our cousins lit a stick of my father's cigarette. They were in their teens. I watched them as they flicked the cigarette, took their first drag, and puffed the smoke out. To say that I was amazed was an understatement. I asked myself, "How do they do that?" They did not cough or anything. It was as if they were just breathing normally. How was it possible? And I knew there was only one way to find out.

What happened next was, I peeled a piece of paper from my Yasaka pad, got my baby sister's powder, and made my own version of "cigarette." I put a certain amount of powder on the paper. I rolled the paper and lit it. I took my first drag and coughed myself to death afterwards. It was that bad. I hated the feeling, and from that moment on, I knew that I would never try smoking again. 

Apparently, I was wrong. 

Years later, I discovered Dunhill Frost. Everything went downhill after that. I started with one stick a day, then it became two, until I couldn't count it anymore. I smoked whenever I got the chance. At first, I was hiding it from my friends for fear of not being accepted. (Talk about Teenager = The need for acceptance phase, right?) It was enough that I had the "alcoholic" image, I didn't want them to judge me more. Besides, drinking is more acceptable than smoking. It was only when I was in third year college that I went out in public. I guess, it was teenage angst that made me smoke in public. I was in the I-don't-give-a-shit-about-what-you-think-of-me-I'm-smoking phase. At first, some of my friends told me to stop it because it's not healthy. I actually believed them, but I didn't stop. Of course, I didn't stop. 

From Dunhill Frost to Black bat to Marlboro Menthol to Black to practically any brand to Marlboro Lights. That was my cigarette evolution. Thinking about it now, now that I have Upper Respiratory Tract Infection again, I couldn't understand why I even started smoking. 

Smoking calms me whenever I am stressed and/or emotional. It clears my head whenever it feels like exploding with information. It makes me say things in a nicer way whenever I feel the urge to curse someone like s/he means nothing in the world. And it helps me to pass time whenever I'm bored. But then, are these reasons enough? For now, I would like to think so. 

I want to quit, but I am not a quitter. I know I would be able to stop someday. It would just have to take time.  I don't have enough discipline and self-control to go cold turkey on it. I tried the flooding technique where I chain smoked almost 3 packs of 20s in one night. I stopped for 3 months and then I picked up the habit again. I just know that impulsive quitting would not work for me. I have to take one step at a time. Right?

***As of this writing, I haven't smoked a cigarette for two consecutive days. An achievement, if you know me. The craving for nicotine is not that strong. (Or maybe that's just because I am sick, I don't know.)

Love Bug

It's the first day of the Love Month and I am spending it on my deathbed. Oh, the irony.

Since it is February, I'll indulge myself to talk about love and romantic shiznit. So, let me lay out my views on love (yes, you'll definitely read lots of this word in this entry, so if you are cringing right now, you might as well leave this page and stalk someone else).

First, I believe that love should be all about understanding and acceptance. You know what they say about seeing beyond your partner's faults? That one is true. Every person in love would understand this. It is like the saying "love is blind" but not quite. It is more of acknowledging your partner's shortcoming and accepting it in a way that will not sway you from reality. I mean, if you really love a person, you would embrace his/her whole humanity. Besides nobody's perfect, right?

Second, there's no half-measure in love. Go all out. You might lose yourself in the process, but you know what? That's when you'll learn to love your own person. And when you learn that, that's when you'll be able to love someone with all your existence. Sounds romantic? Of course.

Third, love is love. There are different stages and kinds of love. The bottomline is, it is still love. If you believe and if you truly feel as if it is love, then who are to tell you that it is not? Besides, what love is not true?

Fourth, all is fair in love and war. However, you must remember that there are rules, whether written or not, in war. What more in love? BUT! You must also remember that some rules are meant to be broken in order to find and to get the person you love. It's just a matter of timing and how far you will go for the sake of love.

Last, all of these are purely relative. You might agree or disagree with me. You may deem my beliefs illogical or whatever. It's up to you. And yes, please do entertain me. What do you think about love?