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.