stupefied

This is the story of a girl, who cried a river and drowned the whole world, and while she looked so sad in photographs, I absolutely love her, when she smiles... -Nine Days

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Lhiza dearie


My good friend Lhiza is leaving in about four weeks, not for a vacation or business trip or something temporary. She’s going to Canada to live there for good. Her husband has been waiting for her for years already; it’s about time she packs her suitcase, and her mind I guess, with some mem’ries from home and take that plane.

Four weeks, that could seem a little far still, but I’d take no chance with time. The next thing I’ll know I’ll be getting postcards from Vancouver, and I wasn’t even able to wish her my farewell.

So Lhiz, while I’ve enough time, I’d like to send you my best wishes, and a little thanks for so many great times.
I’m half-thrilled, half-gray for you. I’m happy that you would finally be reunited with your hubby Gino, and together you’d chase the dreams you have for each other (and future babies, woohoo).

I’m sad coz I’ll really miss you.

Though we’ve not really been seeing each other as constantly (moving to another company, being busy and all), it’s different when we’re already continents apart. I just hope the distance wouldn’t grow that far. You promise me I’m joining you there pretty soon (hehe wag ka ma-pressure, I really wouldn’t need a spouse hehe)…

My thanks for one great gift of friendship.

Bon Voyage!

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Happy, again

I missed writing yesterday, I was pretty engaged, plus there really wasn’t anything grand to tell. I had this 5-hour training about money markets and fixed income securities--- stuffs that were totally alien to me. I was completely stumped at terms like discounting and present value and yield-to-maturity, I almost forgot I was a CPA, who endured 4 gruelling years of accounting education and a board exam that had 80% mortality rate. As always, I’ve found myself a reasonably convincing excuse for that. My three year-work experience as a “financial analyst” did not touch those things; I’m still quite wondering what the title was for at least.

Anyway, forget the training; forget my profession gone off course, forget how dreary my day is today or my nagging headache. Also forget that my love life is nil right now. Or that I’d be sleeping alone tonight, since my roommate had to go home to the province for her wedding on Sunday. Forget that everybody’s getting married these days while I’m still suffering post-break-up attacks at the sound of familiar songs that used to make my eyes turn heart-shaped. Like Especially for you or Till they take my heart away aarrgh.

For today I’d like to forget that my life isn’t as promising as I’ve always pictured it to be. I’d like to forget about unfinished businesses, remorse, regrets, failed dreams and affairs, anything that would sting my eye and make me cry and dehydrated and depressed. I’d like to think of happy things. Happy endings, happy dreams, happy thoughts. Maybe count my blessings…

What do I have—a great family, great friends, great job, great imagination …Oh the list is long, could bore you to death…

Hmmmn.. This feels nice… I ought to do this more often…=)

Monday, January 23, 2006

Interesting

Let me just say I had quite an interesting moment last Friday. There was this couple's shower for an old colleague who’s getting married this Saturday. It took them a couple of persuasions before I finally agreed to go, my hesitation built on the thought of possibly seeing my ex again. Not that I’m still into him, I have spent the last five months forgetting and ‘restoring’ parts of me I lost owing to my own tolerance . As much as possible, I just would like to avoid such encounters; I don’t completely trust myself on relationship affairs. I’ve known of my own tendencies to lose my defenses over one smile, or one of those looks or even that silence so I try as hard to keep my guard.
Okay, so I didn’t really want to see him. Then suddenly I see him walking past me, while I was misty-eyed at chopping white onions for the nachos. There goes my interesting surprise. The person I was trying to steer clear of for the longest time sees me in an almost forlorn state. I had onions all over my hands and the smell of it all over my body. With grains of sweat on my face, unkempt hair and my make-up gone, I remembered still having managed to smile at him. Then he gives me that obligatory nod and ouch, I knew I still need to work hard on the “forgetting” part.
Anyway, for my pride’s sake, I tried to look casual, wearing a brave front the entire evening, even when we were paired up in one of those games that required physical contact. The next interesting part was that we were supposed to be three in the team, and the third member was the girl of my ex’s current dreams, which he denies of course. But Sir Ray laughs off, ‘actions speak louder than words’. So the game began, my left hand over her right, his right leg over hers, her left leg over mine---three of us intertwined, it would have made such an interesting picture.
Anyway, the complicated part is that I adore this girl, because she’s really sweet and true to me. Whatever’s cooking should be the least of my concern right now. That’s the reason they call it ex, it’s history.
My excuse for that, it’s always easier said than done.
Imagine what I had to give up to get myself back, to prove to myself my independence and capacity to be happy with or without other people. Or let’s dismiss the part about “proving” anything to anyone. I did make some sacrifices because I wanted to help myself.
For some time I was convinced I’ve healed completely. Seeing him last Friday was fine, but feeling awkward, and weird and affected around him, I disliked it. I still felt some strange things in my heart, as though he’s crushed it again. For that I'd like to reproach myself but hell, I can't deny.

Friday, January 20, 2006

Thank God it’s Friday

Nothing special happened, nothing noteworthy. Except for the fact that today’s Friday and tomorrow I’d spend a lot more hours in bed than I did this morning. My eyes still hurt you know. Probably from disturbed sleep. Probably from thinking again. I don’t know with this bustling mind of mine. In the morning it’s usually blank. Then at night my head gets so heavy with too many thoughts that I could barely move. Ah, enough of this. I’m just grateful it’s Friday. I have a smile stretched from ear to ear.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Happy last night

I had a grand time last night, partly nostalgic at the sight of old faces and smiles, but mostly overjoyed to be home again. It felt nice finding myself back to my erstwhile office which somehow became my sanctuary for the last three years. It gave me my second job, a wider perspective and unimaginable patience, a couple of good mentors, friends for keeps, an ex-boyfriend, and a share of bad and beautiful memories.

Well it wasn’t really that bad. It’s more of waking up one day and suddenly feeling like it’s gotten too crowded that you’re almost immobile… And then you look at your face and you’re reminded that you’re 25 and what? You can’t think of something significant to add that would somehow fill in the 4 years that passed since you got off from college with your dreamy eyes.

While your contemporaries are driving their own Escape, or walking around Manhattan or in that road they call “marital bliss”, you’re stuck. I guess the only way to move on is to move out. So I quit my job and found a better place. It’s airy and corporate and it’s got a lot of room for my growing perspective. Thanks to my ex-boyfriend, who turned out to be my biggest pain, he actually helped expedite my walking out of the office less the melodrama.

Five months after and there I was last night and I was happy. Of course I missed most of them. I realized while writing this that I had the best time of my life there, and found my most treasured friends. I got all the compliments and well wishes and the looks on their face when they saw me somehow summarized it all. I made the right choice to leave. It was a risk that paid off so well.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

He came back

Sometimes, something wonderful happens in our dreams that waking up to the sight of the ceiling in our bedroom always feels like a nightmare. That was exactly how I felt this morning, when I woke up to the ringing of my phone. For the longest time I’ve not had a recollection of such kind. But last night was special. It was like an old beautiful dream that I’ve always carried in my mind and so this morning when I opened my eyes, I cried. I tried closing my eyes again, but I instantly lost it.

It was about someone from my past. I often call him “the one who got away”, but it was by all means my own doing. Maybe he’s really “the one I sent away”. He seemed like my only chance for the so-called “one great love”, and I was this cute little fool who threw it away.

In my dream he came back. Even after I left him for another love. He was still the same good person who loved me even when I looked half-baked, with my rebellious hair, thick eyebrows and Bugs Bunny teeth. He came back to buy me dinner. He came back to give me that tight little squeeze he used to give me when I feel cold and it somehow reached my heart. He came back to flash that smile that made me crazy for years. He came back to start again, from where we left off, six or seven years ago. He came back without the past. All my dreams before, they were silent pictures. But in this one dream, I heard the familiar voice that used to carry me to sleep. I heard him say the words again. It was like a Josh Groban to my ears.

Then my phone rang, and I was thrown back to reality. How bad could that be?

I’ve kept him out of my mind for a long time and so I’m surprised how all of a sudden he’d show up in my dreams. I honestly don’t have a clue where he could be right now, or how has he been? Is he seeing someone? Is he married? Is he still that charming, skinny boy that got me in love at first sight? Does he still have my ring, even in an old box maybe? Or the rosary that made him cry on our first Christmas party? Or the book of our theme songs I put together the day before he left? Does he still have my heart, even in his memory? What am I thinking? It’s been six years.

He could still know my name, plus a few sad memoirs. But the girl he loved, the girl who once loved him? Time can do so much.

I’m shaking my head for these foolish feelings again. Perhaps I will just linger in the thought that he came back for me, even for a night. Even in my dreams.

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