See you when I see you....

So I was blocked. I don't know why though. Maybe he doesn't want to have any memory of me.
It's his turn to go...for good. Tomorrow.

 I promised myself not to write anything about you...but then again i did. I broke that promise. Like all the other promises we made...broken. Into pieces, shattered like the memories and dreams of you and me.

i just have one request...dont forget about me. Your dora. Your brightest star. It never changed. If you look at the sky at night...look at the stars...and the brightest one would still be me. Maybe not in this lifetime boots...maybe not in this lifetime.

The Story of Us

There are only two people in this world who knows what really happened.

I don't want to sound pathetic because right now, I'm getting by. You did train me well. I'm starting to get used to a life without you. No more drunk dialing, no more crazy messages, no more illusions of what used to be. No more conversations in the middle of the night or the wee hours of the morning. And I'm proud to say, It's not that painful anymore. I don't cry myself to sleep now. I just close my eyes. Miss you again. Then I drift off.

I think this is the nth time I've said that. Stupid me. Still holding on. Still waiting for that ending. For that goodbye. Why? Because every freakin story has an ending. Every actor takes a bow when he's done with his part. Every director says cut when the filming is finished. Why can't we have the same?

Maybe I'm like this because this story is so beautiful. How it all started, how we met. The twists, the turns, the conflicts, the climax. But still.... no ending. How can I end a story without a "the end"?

Since we are the only two people in this darn world who are in this story, we, the two of us, should be ending it. I stated my ending...it's not a happy one though. But at least I did. It's "she finally accepted that they were never meant to be, he loves someone else and she pulled back because all she ever wanted was his happiness that obviously she could not give, so she lived her life bringing with her all the awesome memories with her". Hmmm mushy, but true. How about you? What's your ending? Okay, I'll give you one. "then...he finally said goodbye and walked away".

GirlTalk

It was 2:25am. The phone was ringing and it was my girlfriend Daisy.

(over the phone)

Daisy: Anne, how are you?
Me: So you called me at 2am to ask me how I am. Okay spill it.
Daisy: I knew it. He wasn't going to Hongkong. He was with her.
Me: Hahaha. What's new with that.
Daisy: I'm leaving him.
Me: Oh so you got back together? You said that about eight months ago. And of course last week and about three days ago.
Daisy: Anne, stop laughing this is serious. I think it's because of the distance. He's always on trips. And maybe he's just lonely. He needs someone beside him. And i'm not there for him.
Me: And you're keeping up with that excuse of yours for the longest time. The only distance i see here is the distance between you and reality. He's not into you gurl. Move on.
Daisy: Oh? Look who's talking.
Me: Hey, I am moving on. We're friends now.
Daisy: Friends? Don't make me laugh.  Can you seriously do that, be friends with a guy you love?
Me: Love-D.Beggars can't be choosers. I'm cool with that. Mawawala din to.
Daisy: That's stupid.
Me: Stupid? right..i wasn't the one who stalked my ex just to see if he's with a girl.
Daisy: And i'm not the one who still calls and texts even if the guy said "Stop, I don't love you".
Me: Atleast i didn't call a guy then play our themesong on the background. Who was that again? Oh, you!
Daisy: Maybe you forgot about having  a canteen closed and inviting people to drink 'cause it's his birthday.
Me: Do you remember that woman who thought of that diabolical scheme of getting her ex's new girlfriend raped then salvaged?
Daisy: Oh yeah, and ofcourse that woman who just saw a guy less than six times then cried every night for six months? Classic.
Me: Eto epic. There was this girl who for a month drank Ginebra San Miguel every night while listening to Nazareth's Love hurts..."love hurts, love scars...". God she was crazy.
Daisy: Hey it wasn't gin. And i like the song.
Me: Ah, ikaw pala yun? (laughing) Oh, naubusan ka na?
Daisy: (laughing) We're crazy. Smart intelligent women going crazy for love.
Me: No. YOU are crazy.
Daisy: Liar.Plastic.
Me: You're the one calling at 2am, right?

Do what you're told!

About a week ago, she poured her breakfast on my laptop. She's so innocent and vulnerable.
My reaction was the normal thing that any mom would do. Say in a loud voice " How many times do i have to tell you never to play with your food. She looked at me, teary-eyed but was still wiping the milk in the keyboard. I was biting my lip so not to hit her. My dear old laptop. Dripping, wet. My grades are all there, eight classes and the deadine for submission is next week. I have to encode all over again.

I told her to go to the corner. And she did. clasping her hands. Sobbing quietly while murmuring "sorry, mama, sorry".

Why couldn't kids do what they're told? Don't bite your nails, stop playing with your brother's stuff. Don't put that in your mouth. You're just telling them what's best for them yet they still go on with the rubbish. They don't listen.

Now my laptop's working again. But she still plays with her food. Though you tell her to stop, she wouldn't. Though you told her to listen, she just couldn't. Though you told her no more waiting, she's still here. Though you told her you don't love her, she still resists.

I know why now . Punish her if you must. Hurt her if you please. Ignore her if it suits you. She'd just go to the same corner. Sob. Apologize. Then do it again. Because this is what makes her happy.

You’re the man. (A Valentine’s Day special. I celebrate it too you know)

Just heard a really bad news today. I was talking to my officemate and he said something that really struck me.  He said “Anne no man will ever take a single mom with kids seriously these days, so better be working double so you’d afford to send your kids to college”. “Yeah, I know. I’m an independent woman, snap ,snap!”.

Don’t get me wrong guys. At this point in my life, I’m not looking for a man to marry. I can bring up my kids solo. I’m just enjoying being single and I’m truly happy. I’ve already accepted that my knight in shining armor is either gay, married or dead. In short, there’s really no one. Period. Case closed. I’m not like those other girls stuck in daydreaming about that scene, walking down the aisle. It’s just not possible. I cannot see any possibility of me marrying again. I just can’t afford to be disillusioned again and fall for that happily ever after crap. I’ve set a goal to focus on my career and the kids of course.

And if there would be any sane man, any sane man, (just had to say that again to point out he might be crazy) who would like to buy a ticket to get in this crazed up combo- Ferris wheel –and- rollercoaster life of mine, good luck. You might be into drugs or something for falling for someone like me. Or you are a delusional maniac who thinks I’m the last woman alive. 

But…just maybe…because of divine intervention, or in two months it’s the end of the world, there would be someone who may think he is my soul mate (you’re demented if you believe in that BS) or just thinks I’m cool to be staying at home, cooking omelets for him and giving him a back rub every night, he must have the following qualifications:

1.       Must be a man in uniform (no security guards please). Men who have goals, who respect themselves and their future wife, are dedicated to being a professional. Sorry, I’ve spent a lot of money already for a man, just to watch a movie, eat on a restaurant or get laid. (Did I just say that?). Honeymoon, year 2000. I’m done buying flowers for myself, giving cell phones and buying his favorite cologne. You are the man, you must provide for your woman.

2.       He must be smarter than me. (not the geek who can name all the stars in the galaxy and all the US governors or say the earth is 34 million kilometers away from the sun) He must be a man who would have sensible conversations with me, in English, Filipino and dirty, I mean flirty, yeah, flirty language. He must sometimes make me feel stupid not knowing what he knows. Because who would want a guy who doesn’t know Obama or  spells “believe” with the e before the I or thinks The Aegis sung “Total Eclipse of the Heart”. 

3.       Loves his mom.( but not too much). According to studies, a man who respects his mom and loves her dearly is a passionate man. Men like them are not womanizers. He must know how to treat a woman right. I don’t want to have a man who has mommy issues and beats me black and blue and then tie me up by the bedpost and turns me into a sex slave. (hmm…on second thought..) Err, no. No. I don’t want that. But, like I said, not too much. My ex, the same guy I was talking about a while back, he would always compare me to his mother. Mom cooks better, mom sings better, mom dresses better, mom said this is how it’s done, if mom’s here she would’ve. So, if you’re mom’s that awesome, why didn’t you marry her instead?

4.       Loves Sports. (or likes watching). Athletic men are focused. Focus is key to success. Success is key…oh for crying out loud, you know this crap. Men who just lazily bums all day, hitting his guitar or playing plants vs. zombies the whole day are bored with life. I like men who have excitement and fun written all over their faces (and bodies of course). Idle hands are the devil’s workshop. I don’t like a man who’s siding on the enemy.

5.       Handsome is overrated. Sorry, I don’t like guys who look prettier than me. Who smells better than me, who dresses like there’s always a wedding or it’s valentine’s day. I love a man who doesn’t care about how he looks, what he’s wearing. No effort, but he still looks cool. There are better things to do than stay in front of the mirror for hours putting on facial creams and changing outfits.

6.       A man who does as he pleases. I hate guys who can’t decide and asks a woman’s approval on things. Women should be like that, and you are the MAN, for Christ’s sake. Classic example, you’re in a restaurant, the waiter hands you the menu. I ask, what are we having, he says, ikaw bahala ka, kung ano sayo, kahit ano, .(it’s up to you, I’m having what you’re having.) See, you girls are smiling because you have the same dilemma. One more,” can I go out with my friends tonight, that is if you let me”. God, where did you come from? Do what you want to do. You have a life of your own before I met you. I’m not like the other girls who would get you stuck in a spider web love affair like I want you by my side every minute. Like I’m not gonna breathe without you. You guys need to do what you want, without any hesitations. Because if I love you, I’ll trust you, your decisions, your actions.

Okay done. Am I asking for too much? Yes, I know. (that’s why I’m still single stupid).Well the above scenario are based on the simple fact, that if, only if, I’m bound to have someone, God will give me this someone. Because I’ve been a good girl. Because I’ve been beaten, ridiculed, hurt and suffered too much and he won’t let that happen again. Because if I’m gonna end up with someone, I’m gonna end up happy. That if I’m ever to love again, I’m gonna love him like no other woman in this planet would. Like there’s no tomorrow. I’m gonna let him feel that HE IS THE MAN. That he is my man.

(Dream on, Anne, dream on.)Hey, I heard that!

Counting Sheep

G-Am..no , no, Bm…G..argh… Better get some sleep. But that’s the thing, I can’t sleep.

Whenever sleep shuns me, this is what I do. Hum, strum my guitar, write a song, scribble, and then put notes to it. Or I may have a melody in mind, and then I put words on it. Kinda scares me though. If I’d be like this for the rest of my life, I may be in trouble. I’m gonna have eye bags the size of pingpong balls. Then I couldn’t put my sunglasses on…then people would call me Squidward or Bart. Squidwards better. Then I’m gonna have a hard time putting on liquid eyeliner. It would take hours. And I have to buy tons of concealers  just to cover it up. Or I could put giant sized cucumbers every morning when I wake up. That’s if I sleep of course. But that’ the problem, I couldn’t sleep. . I’m gonna have eye bags the size of pingpong balls. Then I couldn’t put my sunglasses on…then people would call me…Wait, I’ve said that already…

You know that’s the big problem with not being able to sleep. You think too much. You put alota things in your head. Crazy stuff. Weird stuff. Like thinking of getting a nose job, or going to Kazakhstan for  a retreat or reminisce. Argh…I hate the last one. I hate thinking of what used to be. I hate thinking of people and how they were. I hate going through all those past sequences and dissecting each little thing. What went wrong or what should’ve been done. The happy stuff.  The painful stuff. Makes me wanna go out and drink. But I hate drinking now. Alcohol makes you do awful things that you’d just regret.

So this is what I do instead, strum, hum, write a song, put melodies to it, or I have a melody in mind, then I’d put words on it. Oh did I say that a while back? This is BS, I need a drink…a big cup of warm milk tea would do the trick. I hope.

Poling in Love for the First Time…

“I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m happy.” This is what I say to myself as I face the bathroom mirror every morning. My psychology professor back in college calls it conditioning. Telling yourself something that you want to believe and you want to happen. So each morning as I open my eyes, I smile, take a deep breath and chant..”I’m fine, I’m okay, I’m happy”.  Then I’d listen to some happy upbeat music like “I’m walkin on sunshine by Katrina and the waves, “I’ve got you (I Feel Good ) by James Brown, Three Little Birds by Bob Marley..dance to it a little, and voila…I’m okay. Works wonders. Being preoccupied with tons of stuff makes me happy now. And to complete that happiness, I’ve written a long to do list. Learn a new language, done. Cut my hair short, done. Slim down, done. Do something new just for the heck of it, hmm, done.

I took pole dancing lessons.

At first the thought made me laugh. But doing something new is part of my long list. And oh well, this is something new. I’m a dancer though, I dance ballroom and hip hop. Okay, dancing is not the problem. But the pole part was. I tried it not to aspire as dancer in Vegas with feathers on my head as a new career, but to put my mind away from bad vibrations. And I tell you..swinging, whirling and bending by a pole would really take your mind out of all those negative things.

Well of course the first day was a nightmare. I was like mobbed and badly beaten by ten guys at the same time. I had to take a day off from work. My house help had to get me up to go to the bathroom and pee. Well, I’m kidding of course. But honestly, I thought the bones in my body broke. After two days, I went back (with a pack of Salonpas strips ready)and bended my way to death. The pain never returned. I even made new friends. There was this gay guy who took the lessons for the reason of satisfying his partner. I didn’t ask how. Just use your imagination. This 52 year old grandmother who still thinks she’s gonna end up with some foreign guy. She even brags about an Arab she met in a chatroom called gimme some lovin. My jaw dropped for three seconds when she told me about it, but immediately recovered with my classic oh-that’s- interesting-I should-try-that-one-too facial expression then walked away.

All of us had different reasons for trying this one out. But mine was plain and simple. I’m doing it to grow, improve my figure, strengthen my muscles, and become more flexible . I’m doing it for myself and not for someone else. The worse thing about doing something for someone is that you wouldn’t know till it’s enough, you wouldn’t know when to stop. You’ll be drained on figuring out : will this make me get the guy? will this make him happy? Or maybe I need to bend little bit more. That’s pathetic. You bend yourself to death for someone who doesn’t even know you exist.  

When our instructor was introducing a new move everybody was excited. But when she demonstrated the routine, everybody was shocked. I bit my tongue then swallowed hard. She jumped right to the pole, gripped the pole with her thighs bended her body while sticking out her arm then slid down. “and we’re suppose to do THAT?”, the gay guy exclaimed. “Yes, and you’re up”. I thought he couldn’t do it. But then he took two steps back whipped his imaginary long hair and jumped, gripped, bended and slide. APPLAUSE. Then granny was next. She tried to put her whole body up to the pole, gripped it with her thighs, and every time she tried she would just slip like a fireman on an emergency call, except there were no sirens. She gave up. “Make love to the pole”, our instructor yelled. “Make love to the pole”. But what granny did was hump the pole, and thrust back and forth with a porn star’s facial expression. Everybody laughed. I almost threw up. Then it was my turn. Okay Anne, baby you can do it…I was thinking hard..just jump, grip, bend and slide, just freakin’ get this over with….then you’re off to Ilocos…Pagudpod on March…wow, I need to get this done so I can start my swimming lessons, then get a tattoo…then..”Anne, you’re up”. “Oh, okay..” Jump, grip, bend and slide…”Anne…””yeah, I’m on it…” jump, grip, bend and slide…”Anne, think of the one you truly love like he came home and he’s lifting you high”, my instructor barked.”Okay”. It’s not helping. I’ve fallen in love and got hurt several times, you readers know that. No one’s coming home. Or if they did come back I’d post a sign just outside the door saying: Model House Only. No trespassing. Nakamamatay. Trespassers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again. Can I just think of something else, like there’s a really big flood and I’m hanging by a coconut tree bend and stick out my arm until the AFP finds me? ”Anne, think of that man you want to live with for the rest of your life”. Why is it always about a man? “The pole is the man”. Really…can I just bend him then and throw him away?

Anyway, I tried…okay green fields…white flowing dress…the man of my dreams…we’re running towards each other…like a movie scene…jump and grip…put my arms around him…this is easy…bend…he’s holding my waist as he turns me around…extend your arms….slipped. “Ouch”. I saw myself sitting on the floor with the pole between my knees. “Anne, don’t hold him too tight or he’ll let you go and then you’ll lose your grip…that’s why you slipped. Is she talking about pole dancing or my ex-boyfriend? ”You should concentrate before starting your jump, don’t put your whole weight on the pole. You should carry yourself up. Enjoy the position, that’s why we’re bending and extending our arms. Then we slide. Done”. Oh now she’s starting to sound like a chef, mince the garlic, sauté, salt and pepper to taste, done. “ANNE, focus!” She just can’t shut up, can she? She talks as if it’s that easy. But it was actually easier the second time. And I did it.

As the session ended my instructor asked me with a sheepish smile, “What’s his name?” ”Huh? Who?”, I asked back. “The guy you were imagining lifting you when you tried the second time, your eyes were closed, you know.” “Oh, that! His name is, um, COCO”, I replied then left. Of course I didn’t think of a man. Why would I do that, I’d lose my grip. I thought of the flood instead.

The Space Between

 by the Dave Matthews Band

 You cannot quit me so quickly
Is no hope in you for me
No corner you could squeeze me
But I got all the time for you, love

The space between the tears we cry
Is the laughter keeps us coming back for more
The space between the wicked lies we tell
And hope to keep safe from the pain

But will I hold you again?

These fickle, fuddled words confuse me
Like, will it rain today?
Waste the hours with talking, talking
These twisted games we're playing

We're strange allies with warring hearts
What a wild-eyed beast you'll be
The space between the wicked lies we tell
And hope to keep safe from the pain

But will I hold you again?
Will I hold?

Look at us spinning out in the madness of a roller coaster
You know you went off like the Devil in a church
In the middle of a crowded room
All we can do, my love is hope we don't take this ship down

But the space between where you're smilin' high
Is where you'll find me if I get to go
The space between the bullets in our firefight
Is where I'll be hiding, waiting for you

The rain that falls splash in your heart
Ran like sadness down the window into your room
The space between our wicked lies
Is where we hope to keep safe from pain

Take my hand 'cause we're walking out of here
Oh, right out of here, love is all we need, dear

The space between what's wrong and right
Is where you'll find me hiding, waiting for you
The space between your heart and mine
Is the space we'll fill with time

The space between
The space between

There’s always a rainbow after the rain…

The rain has passed.

After jumping back and forth on the several stages of that healing process: shock, denial, anger, worthlessness, acceptance, anger, acceptance, denial, acceptance, rehabilitation, reconstruction, I can finally say that I am in that final stage: compassion. I’m fine. I am finally happy.

Life is indeed beautiful. It will open your eyes. It will make you see that the things that had seemed so impossible really are possible. You may get hurt in the process but all wounds heal. Pain is not forever.

Life will teach lessons that may unfold painfully but still…you learn.

Forgive but don’t forget.

I have forgiven you for cluelessly leaving me six years ago and again…now. You have your reasons and I don’t want to know what they are anymore, because I have learned to respect people and their decisions. I have forgiven myself for not standing up after falling flat on my face, depending on someone for MY happiness and inviting anger and self pity as a weapon to forget. But I will not forget. I will not forget the lessons you taught me along the way. You had been the shoulder that I leaned on twice. And it only proves that you’re a good man who deserves all the happiness in this world. And I truly understand that I am not part of that. That’s why you left.

There are things better left unsaid.

The truth won’t set everyone free. Sometimes it could only complicate things. I learned that people must sometimes keep quiet, say nothing or lie just to keep someone out of their crazy lives so that one person won’t be swayed from living their own lives. Especially if you want that someone to be happy. I want you to be happy. And I had to lie. I had to make you believe that I just used you, that I didn’t feel anything, that I was numb. I had to make you think that I am that type of woman whom you can’t trust, who can possibly do horrible things, who didn’t take relationships seriously. I just had to make you believe that I don’t love you. I had to make you believe that I love someone else. I just had to.Because I learned that the truth wouldn’t change anything. I’ve gotten used to thinking that what’s true don’t always lead to a happy ending. Might as well lie, so others would be happy. The utilitarian principle applies.

Everything comes to an end.

Nothing is permanent in this world. Leaves fall. Flowers whither. Even movies have their ending.  Closure is necessary so everyone can finally take a deep breath and move on with their lives. If there is no ending, no closure, a new chapter will never begin. There really is something “good” in goodbye. Spectacular things will be revealed which makes it more exciting. I was once stuck for a brief moment but I have realized that I have to move. There’s no other way but forward.

Everything happens for a reason.

The reason for seeing you again is clear to me now. It’s to make me realize that people like me can love, get hurt, get up again and find a happy ending. Maybe the happy ending is not finding a guy. Maybe the happy ending is just me, picking up the pieces, starting over and moving on.

Thank you. It was one awesome adventure. 

And the crown goes to…

When I was a kid, I remember coming home crying. My dad asked why and my reason was this: I got voted class president. My dad said, “that’s great, you’ll lead the class, what’s wrong with that?” Then I replied, “I wanted to be the muse”. Till now my dad tells that story to everyone. And every time he did, they would laugh. I didn’t know why though.

Then there’s this one time I was asked what I wanted to be when I grow up, I said, “ I want to be an SM sales lady”. Everyone would laugh. Again, I didn’t know why.

Editor in Chief of our High School paper, I was tasked to represent our school in that National Press Conference. They had a beauty pageant and my adviser dressed me up to join. I won, “Ms. Friendship.”

There was even a time when I’m about to meet this guy for the first time who ran like there’s a stampede going on when he saw me in person.

My exes told me that I’m the most beautiful thing that ever happened to them. But take note of the word “thing”.  And every time these exes were asked what is it in me that they love most, they’d tell me, “matalino ka, funny,  mabait, malambing, maasikaso”…”ano pa?” …”inaantok na ko, tulog na tayo.”

Okay, stop laughing.

Well I was programmed to believe that I was pretty. What kind of mother or father would look their kid in the eye and tell her, “hey, you’re ugly, don’t go outside.” or “ we’re very sorry if you ended up like that, I ate something really bad when I was conceiving.” Of course they’d tell you’re pretty. Just to boost your confidence or something. Or maybe just by telling you the truth it’ll slap their faces that your genes came from them. Or just by looking at your parents the truth will strike you you’d asked them, “sinong totoo kong magulang?”( I once entertained that thought)

So what am I saying here?  At this point in my life, it’s just now that I realized that in this crazy world, looks has always been a qualifying factor. That in this world, the reality is that, pathetic guys, those dipsh*ts,  go for those women with slender arms, manicured nails, long shiny hair and the Angelina Jolie look. And those pathetic guys are the ones you want. That being “unpretty” can be a reason for those pathetic douche bags not wanting you. Which I think is pathetic. But hey, that’s how it is. (I’ve seen a lot of women cry over those guys who ditched them saying the spark was gone and all that, then they settle with a prettier girl...F*ck that spark-lie, it isnt true, the only thing that should spark are their houses when you burn them..just kidding)

So what we foxy, awesome, funny, smart , pretty (in the truest sense of the word) women can do (aside from getting a nose job, plastic surgery or soaking our faces in salted water with chlorine) is dump those guys, forget about them, go for those who are in their sane mind who sees the real beauty in us, inside and out, beyond our skin. Those men who would make us feel that we are Angelina Jolie, treating us like a real Beauty Queen.

Because these are the men who have the balls and are brave enough to fall in love. These are the men who wouldn’t give you any reasons why they love you, because the heart can’t think nor rationalize, it could only feel. They are the ones who can look us straight in the eye and say, “YOU MADE MY LIFE BEAUTIFUL”.

“When life gives you lemons….”

I have a confession to make. About two weeks ago, I was like the lead role in the film He’s Just Not that Into You. That stupid desperate woman who was so stuck up in finding her one true love. Throwing herself out (not literally) to every guy she thinks was giving out signals that he likes her so she did things that made them ignore her. Making her feel like a loser.  Making her feel left out.

But like any film that ends, that emptiness ended. Because Gigi or Anne or any woman ultimately has their own turning point. Mine came like how that cliché is all explained to us: “when life gives you lemons, make lemonades”.

I learned how to be delighted in simple things. No lines in atms. Free toilet paper with a pack of diapers. And to top it all just looking at the stars at night wraps up my crazed up day.

Simply put, I’ve learned to accept what life gives me. I’ve learned to understand that you can’t get  everything you want. I’ve learned that though you really want something that bad, all you could do is wait until you’re just too tired of waiting, too tired of pretending, too tired of expecting. Too sick and tired of being sick and tired.

You just have to graciously welcome all those disappointments with your head up and your eyes wide open. That overrated word “ happiness” does not depend on anyone but yourself. That overused third act “finding your true love” does not literally mean “look for” or “search”. It just comes…like a lemon dropping off a tree.

It’s not giving up. It’s just acceptance. Swallow it bit by bit. Take it one frustration at a time. And maybe just maybe, you’ll get used to it too. Like its second nature. Like its normal. Because you just can’t stop those damn lemons from falling off.