Thursday, March 30, 2006

He Tells Me

Love is a conversation...

Thursday, March 23, 2006

And I Warn Myself...

When I saw him, his confidence and way of talking appealed most to me. But I never thought of him often

When we became groupmates in a company training, I made a good impression by swinging on top of a tire and falling from it palm flat (oh, shit!).

When I got so embarrassed in the business meeting, he was standing behind me.

We've been introduced once or twice in the elevator car and probably smiled at him or nodded. But I never started to converse with him.

When I saw him wore a casual shirt and shorts with an ipod and singing out of tune, he registered.

Last night, we were on the same table for dinner, right across each other.

And I'm warning myself like what what my business mentor have always reminded me ... This guy is one hell of a player.

Friday, March 17, 2006

Dared For the Truth

These are the answers I gave Mike for his Truth or Dare.

If you've read my previous posts, my answer to No. 1 is related to this post.


1) Tell me about a time that you did something totally oppisite from who and what you are. A time where you threw all caution to the side and went for it. What was it you did and what was the results of your actions and how did you feel afterward?

I was 19 when I goot hooked to the chatroom. Even if I spend hours chatting, I barely give my real name, pics, and mobile number because I didn't want to entertain what seems to be quite desperate people with "Do you have a boyfriend?" conversations and, also because I was looking forward to be in the media in the future and wanted to have a piece of myself private. I just wanted to hold conversations but there are arrays of horny people out there and those who need online security blankets as well.

Then I came across with a guy whom I really learned to like. Names and numbers were exchanged. He knows what university I am in and he reads my blog a lot even over the phone. He sent me greetings every morning before he starts his day at work and floods me with a lot of literature thru my e-mail.

I don't believe in relationships starting in chatrooms. Well, it is possible but it's not my cup of tea. I still prefer to meet a guy upfront and see where everything goes. But with this particular guy, I was ready to give it a shot. So we decided to meet and I scheduled it on my birthday.

I wanted to meet him but I still have a lot of insecurities coming from failed relationships/nonrelationships (and all that jazz). But I thought it was time to see if it was worth another step forward or not. If I'd lose him, I prefer that it be soon coz I'd be undergoing the same pain anyway.

I met with him and he didn't turn out to be exactly my type of guy. But I REALLY liked him. He has ways to get me thinking once in a while about certain things. And the more I felt insecured.

Things didn't turn out as I planned. Why? I don't know. He probably didn't like me. He probably didn't find me attractive. He probably didn't like the way I dressed or talk. I have no idea. Messages then came very sporadic until they were nonexistent. I thought he liked me too, even for a while, but not as much as I felt about him (whatever it is). By then, I think he was still healing from a broken relationship and was looking for rebound or a new one. He even sent me a copy of a story about a lost wallet and having a new one where the person eventually felt comfortable with.

I had to bear with all the "probably" I had in mind and even dared to ask him about it. I would say I am not over with what happened but I am complete with whatever I did and didn't do. What I did is opposite to my standards but not exactly with who or what I am. I just realized what I am capable of doing and feeling. It is a sad thing it ended that way and when I was already sure that I wanted that kind of feeling and doing things with him, but I find the experience liberating.

I remember him at least one day in a year -- on my birthday. On my way to the office on weekdays, I pass by the building of his office because it is just a block away from ours.

2) If there was something that you could change about yourself be it your physical state or personality state or anything else, what would you change and why?

I wish I don't easily get attached to people, the more I'd be able to save myself from pain.

3) Tell me about your deepest darkest desire. What is it? What about it attracts you? and what would you to get it and what would you do with it once you had it?

I still don't have one for this.

4) Tell me about a time you were attracted to a member of the same sex? Even if you were only mildly attracted. What was it that attracted you to this person? If this person made it known to you that they too were attracted to you, how would you react and why?

I was chosen to play basketball for the district and had to get along with some other girls from other schools. Well, as expected, there were lezzies in the team. It didn't matter to me as long as I get along with them well. But I was bothered when one showed interest in me. During practices, I'd catch her staring. Sometimes, even winking. I didn't want to make it a big deal and thought she was just being friendly. On the last day of the competition, the team spent the whole day together. When we were already saying our goodbyes, she hugged me so tight in front of everyone. It was the unusual hug, different from the way the others hugged me.

Later, I pulled another teammate to the rest room because I was already all flushed but shaking and cold. She was tough but pretty and kind. I liked her. But I chose to stick to the "equipped" ones.

Friday, March 03, 2006


Since I was young, I've always separated matters of the family from school and the other activities that I have. My friends know my dad, my mom and my siblings because I often invite people to come to the house. But I barely dicuss with them issues or problems that I have or had at home. In fact, as I write here while tears stream down from my eyes, I don't think I'd be able to tell this to anyone.

I come from a humble family. My parents aren't rich and their jobs are just enough to support our needs. Since I'm the eldest and I've started working, I feel the pressure to at least shoulder some of the expenses. My parents did not oblige me to help them but I've somehow grasped the idea when we talk. We are aware that in monetary terms, we have less. And we've indentified ourselves with this fact eversince we were young, probably even before I even acquired the faculty of language.

The family of my mother isn't rich as well. Just like us, they also don't have the luxury to constantly go out for fine dines. But we've always been close. My cousins would always invite me to join them in choosing the clothes that they would buy and if they ever need anything that I am aware of more than they do.

On the other side, my father's family has a well-established background. Most of my father's siblings and cousins are abroad allowing their families here in the Phillipines spend more than we do. My divorced aunt in the US assists my parents in sending my siblings to college, with the condition that they take up nursing believing it's the easiest way to leave the country, an offer I (rebelliously) declined.

Most of the people in our place know us and the "benevolent" acts of my father's siblings. Well, to most people who are aware of it, we are said to be indeed lucky.

Not known to them is the pain that comes with the "privilege."

Because only a few are aware that, for almost 22 years of my existence, my father's family has not yet accepted my mom and us, her kids. As I understand, it all started with that hate that arose when my mom got pregnant with me when they were still in college. Another factor is that my mom doesn't come from a rich family or at least the one that would meet their standards.

Our family has been fine even if we don't have as much as my fathers's siblings and their respective families have. My sister and brothers understood and did not demand much.

However, power that comes with money is very evident with my aunts. Some of them support political parties during elections even at their expense. They get invited to special events and we don't. In family hosted celebrations, my cousins won't even touch a plate while we are expected to take part from cutting the vegetables until sweeping the area after the event. They don't demand that my parents share with the expenses so we take part in helping in the preparation. It seems fair and unfair at the same time.

Even in our silence, we never escaped the peering eyes of society. Some who know us well understand. But it hurts to know that my father's own kin keeps us down for a reason we are not aware of until now. What could they still be envious of?

They've taken the land my father inherited and did not even spare the car. By then, I was too young to understand the things that my parents have tried to shelter us from. But I eventually found them out from other people.

Although my father's sisters and cousins seem to get along well, they have a stinking relationship. And the latter do not spare us from the competition they've set among themselves, thinking they were saints waiting for us to bow before them.

It pains me that I could not do anything about it yet and that I could not spare my siblings from the pain, even accused my four-year-old brother to kill my mom in the future. Neighbors don't talk to us but talk about us all the time. And on rare occasions they do, they only want us to understand we are never better than them. From time to time, my parents receive calls from my aunts abroad because some saints "reported" us. Yes, we have episodes of fights inside the house. But not the type that would end up killing each other, just like the fights a family normally has but most of them denied to occur.

I know my parents try to live in their standards however how high my father's family seems to think it is. But no matter what we do and what we don't do, they always find ways to make us wrong. Because whatever we do that are different from what they do are hideous. Just earlier, they did it again.

My father's family has helped us and we recognize that. With the recognition comes the debt of gratitude rooted even before my birth and would not even end after the death of my great grandchildren.

At times like this, I find myself in the confines of a church or a chapel silently weeping. If you surely want to see me cry, talk to me about this. I haven't found anyone who'd surely want to hear this. If you read until this point, I'd even be surprised. My insecurities run and I feel susceptible to more pain whenever this subject is brought up. All my strong suits disappear and my failures arise.

And without much left to say, I thank you for reading.