For The Nth Time

Here’s a reminder to take out the trash in your life. If it’s sitting at your face, lurking behind your back or rotting in a corner, I suggest you grab a bag to collect it. Then, throw I away. Surely, this is the best time for me to be talking about this after yet another mistake of letting my loneliness stall my progress. For a while, I have exhibited recovery from hoarding dirt. To speak in decrypted language, I have always sought for drama in my relationships - real, imposing and imaginary. This is on top my preference in a guy, which is another story. And for a time, I have been drama-free. This might have gotten me into relentless writing spree in the first place. However, just recently the growth has been delayed.

If there’s anything to have in life, it is a good discerning mind. A mind that can distinguish the cycle of abuse that you have subjected your heart and body for a period of time can be a good tool. And if our heart and body are just robot organs getting orders from our mind, then they must follow suit. But I am of defective brain. Mine believes what my gut tells me and I tell myself, “Why do I keep on believing my instinct if in the end it spins my head crazy?” I guess some people, like myself, are hard-wired to believe in the possibility of what might be based from their hearts of heart.

Again, this can be funny and at times adorable when you are young and I am still young. But for now, I must settle for the lesson. I have to be prompted constantly that certain ideologies like marrying a man carrying a broken wind is toxic, engaging in adulterous relationships is a dump and seeking for that “pavement that leads nowhere” is nothing but a waste.

For once, I want to invest in other things that I want. Writing is one of them. Though, I have limited ideas to talk about, hopefully these can be a part of a discussion and if I can dream bigger, a movement.

Musical Chairs Or Chicken Wings

Coming in late into the game, I have been blithely unaware of the moves and tactics in dating. Truth be told, I started way too early having interest in it at age 12. I remember dating someone around that age over a dozen of burgers and cola. It will never work. He is as straight as a ruler. The best thing I got from that date was getting locked up in a room with him at a school fair. We hated that experience though he became a friend later on.

After that incident, it took a long time before I went on a date. Apparently, when I went back into the game it would require me more than a piece of mashed ground beef and carbonated soda. Everything is in reindeer-quick speed. A moment of lingering looks can lead to a coffee date, then a movie and then… BOOM! Next thing you know Gay 1 is feeding Gay 2 with a gelato in public nonetheless. They decide to go exclusive after 2 days and then in a month’s time they go their own ways.

The series of interrelated changes happen in one particular group. A friend has said, “it’s like Melrose Place.” Everyone has gone to bed with someone, one way or another. My refusal to succumb to this connection of sexual plethora stems from a lot of fears and insecurities but more than anything, the thought of being included in six degrees of a certain John, is the horror of all my horrors.

Ironically, I think I am in it. I am playing it. I have to. Otherwise, I will prolong the condition of my sexual status or the lack of any. It’s a sick, sad cycle - injurious and tedious.

It is my theory though that for every game, there is a code - a technique that so far I have not been able to break. I do not think I will be getting the point anytime now and it is fine by me. I am just going to stand outside the game and eat my chicken wings.

I can imagine Gay 1 and Gay 2 after playing the musical chairs for sometime. They sit down in exhaustion and realize they are only ones left standing in the game. The Gloria Gaynor and Lady Gaga music on loop stopped as well. I hope they make it, together or apart.

Waiting To Happen

Devirginization, the process of a virgin’s first sexual experience, is so normal these days that celibacy and/ or self-preservation is already considered an urban myth. The act of opening up to another person special or not has become so prevalent today that it puts certain bible verses to shame.

Last Sunday, four single ladies, I included have responded to a breakfast invitation that opens with a statement, “I did it.” As usual, we have asked our friend the details of that event. Well, not biblically but how it has led her to finally do it. As she narrates the event that predates almost nine years of on-and-off flirting, I have noticed something strange. The fact that this deed is a reaction from her being tired of playing the good girl is not the only thing to take notice of but also the fact the she is not that proud of it. She is uncertain or deigns to think of the impact of this experience. I feel otherwise for her. I envy her. To imagine that one person such as her type (prude and very overly conservative and mature) can easily give it away still leaves my jaw wide open; feel free to throw a pun that a fly can enter my mouth.

It is my assumption that her experience impacts my life harder. Being an over-thinker myself, this occurrence presents the inevitable sleepless nights, long sighs and multitudes of explanations why and how shitty my situation is. Heck, I have started dreaming about it last night.

I can no longer insert my witty puns on this one. This has got to stop. All the illusions of doing it with certain eligible candidates, the positions to do/ perform/ receive, the preparations and even the situations that will lead to it. This is starting to be borderline noise to me.

So far, I only know one thing - I am waiting. If sex is the only thing to factor in this equation, I have done it eons ago. To me this is not a case of morality, being virtuous and all. Not even the readiness. I refuse to settle with the norm that the deed can define me. If I’m out to get the best teachers in life, my experiences, to educate me then sex will never be a part of it - at least to me. I have blithely embraced the fact that I have never been the go-to person for sex. That is just not who I am. I just hope my other head agrees with me.

The Wrong Impression Guy

Another morning with a cigarette, staring at my blank horizon. Feeling wrong altogether. I have woken from a night with my desires crucified, yet again. An immobile smile is etched on my face with a mix of humility, embarrassment and nonchalance. It has taken me this far and long to realize what I have always known all along.

I have a penchant for a certain kind of guy. One who is unavailable, distant, cold and cruel disguised as funny, interesting.

"You got to be a masochist," a friend said. In my sexual fantasy, I am and in reality, I might be.

Certain experiences have to be learned. Statues of limitations to be followed and after years of exemplary failures, I have almost come to thinking that I got it. That is until last night. I have grown a certain amount of fondness for a certain fellow. He definitely fits the mold. unavailable, distant, cold and cruel disguised as funny, interesting. However, he is an upgraded version for his looks... Well, let us just say beyond interesting. But then as I move forward with my intentions, it hit me - this is the very abusive cycle that has got me thinking.

After all the progress I have made, it will be unfortunate if I back out now.

Walk Away

A douche bag once said, “ If I want to move on, why should I wait? I am going to do it now.” If this douche bag is able to pick up the pieces from his heydays of making self-gratifying sex videos, so can I.

There will always be a wound, a scar, or a mark that will remind you of that terrible accident in your life. That mistake you wish never happened. That misstep. That mishap. And no matter how much effort you do to erase it, every time its memory comes up, you can see yourself biting your lip and closing your eyes in shame. The pangs of that stupid mistake get you every time.

I cannot disclose mine. It's much more political to stay silent about the matter and write in this manner. But this I will tell, the reason for committing mistakes of this nature in your life may come from the fact that you have compromised the inner thoughts of your core being. People, no matter how dim-witted, have an inherent sense of what is wrong or right for them. I have managed to blur the lines of that judgment by going after a moment. Oh, what an idiot.

The memory of that giant glossy blunder will always catch up with us when we are somewhere between contentment and selective amnesia. I am grateful that it happened for in my situation, the great fault begets growth.

R.O.Y.

A certain amount of courage between the lines of despondence and hope comes through when there is nothing left. Getting out of a limbo and moving away from the spiritual planes of a personal battle be it heaven, purgatory, or hell takes more than sheer will. I have been in hell for 8 months, 6 days and 10 pounds. Then to purgatory for three months and 6 pounds less. It is time for heaven.

To be real, I already knew my stand in this matter. In my mind, however, I wanted a confirmation. Lucky for me, an event brought me the answer. He brought it to me. The man had put me in a situation where I would come face-to-face with his honesty. And like a tidal wave of all my guilt, the encounter washed me out completely. On the onset, I managed to handle it well. I acknowledged this ghost because it was talking to me. I had no choice. I had to perform the exorcism. It was then I figured I created my own monster and it was haunting me.

The following day, I have reckoned the answer that could break off the curse of this ghost. So, when that ghost comes back, I am ready. I have the spell to dismiss it. Indeed, I am no longer in hell.

In the Annette Bening Of My Mind

At the wake of my overdue heartache, I want to sit by the coolness of my realizations and be reflective. This is it – the end. I am at the twilight of all hopes and wishes that we will be okay. To seem fair, I really tried. Forgiving, forgetting. And for a moment it happened. But no amount of well wishes for him can compare to the level of hurt and shame he has placed me. This feels like an unattainable balance between the best and the worst of our memories.

And now, the sight of him has become unbearable. Everyday I have to hold on to the core of my beliefs that one day when the sands of time says so, I and/ or we will be fine. Here’s hoping. I’m just pretty beat up with the idea of getting back. The diabolical plan of staging an arresting revenge on him and his most treasured ego is just a waste of my time. This is an indicative response that my body and mind in unison, is moving on.

If this is so, then what am I doing now? Obsessing on the right words to use because I keep on having one last thing to say? Building a huge slideshow in my mind of all the things that led and kept me here? I really don’t know anymore. All I can still feel is this massive pain, this body blow.

The thing is, I have been here, this feeling but never in this state in all of my times and life. One of my best friends blames me for getting caught in this predicament. Maybe to her, I have given the man a lot of credit, trust, love and belief to a fault. And the man may have used all of these against me. Heck, I am using those, too to hurt me. That even makes me more stupid than I already am.

Time to admit defeat. Throw in the towel. Wave the white flag up, way way up. All those clichés that will continue on to embody losses and heartbreaks and separations. I fell in love with that “Casanova” notion of him in me and somehow have gotten mesmerized until things turned out to be what they really are. This is phony and I had to go through that paralyzing knockout before seeing it clearly. This is a mirage of the things I wish I had. I have unveiled the ugly truth already. All I have to do is move away from the illusion. Wake up from the haze. I am on it but this track is like a yo-yo.

If there is a way I can fuck my rage and be done with it in seconds, I am going to do it. Forget the high-road and the maturity. Where is that shortcut?

The PILOT

In this video the character of Winona Ryder, Susanna, wakes up on the night before she gets discharged from an asylum. Susanna realizes that her journal is gone and her cat, Ruby. She gets up to search but soon heard some noises coming from the basement where she and her friends usually hang out. Susanna follows the voices she has been hearing. It is her friend, Lisa, played by Angelina Jolie. Lisa is reading Susanna's journal in the cold and poorly-lit basement and she has an audience, Polly and Georgina.

Lisa (reading Susanna's journal): Lisa's eyes once so magnetic now just look empty.


Susanna: Lisa, that is mine!

Lisa: Georgina, lies only to people who keep her here. Sometimes I think she wants to live in Oz forever. How perceptive...

Georgina (lashing out to Susanna): You better erase it! My father is the head of the CIA and he can have you dead in minutes!

Lisa: In this world looks are everything. Sometimes I think Polly's sweetness and purity aren't genuine at all but a desperate attempt to make it easier at us to look at her. So nice to pass judgment on us now that you're cured.

Susanna: What the fuck are you doing Lisa?

Lisa: I'm trying to play the villain, baby. Just like what you want. Just trying to give you everything you want.

Susanna: No, you're not.

Lisa: You want your file? I gave you your file. You wanted out? I got you out! You needed money, I found you some! I fucking insisted to tell you the truth I didn't fucking write it in a fucking book. I told it to your face!

For two fucking minutes, I felt like I was Susanna.

There are situations when life pushes you to the brink of your sanity and you write down and express what it is that you feel and you cross your fingers that for a mere moment releasing these words will bring you back to your "normal" self. Now, you can only wish these thoughts will remain private. But when you find out that these musings will be used and misinterpreted as something that they are not, in the end these will only contribute to the magnitude of bleak-osity going on in your life.

Truth is, I have had the same experience with Susanna. The thought is not exactly dark in nature. It is in fact humorous, of course, at the expense of others. Then again, it is not purposely conceived to offend anyone. However, some people has taken that side. And since they have chosen to see it that way, I have made it a point to apologize To what extent do they want me to apologize is still unknown. To me though, I am done with it.

If this story finds them, I want to tell them that I had a ball making and writing that joke but more importantly, I want them to know how sorry I am if they ever feel maligned by it.

That is a just thought. It is actually private and it is mine.