pensive

Kicking off the week is a great kick off.

/ iamsupercarla / 2 Comments

I took a trip down memory lane and decided to reread all of the little things we were able to collect on PACE.  Apparently, I was (am?) that nice.  People really seemed to genuinely like me.  I can feel them changing their mind though.  Hahaha.

One of the notes read, "Your CONGRATULATIONS! never fail to lift my spirits and boost my confidence."  Looking back, I don’t know why I stopped saying that.  It used to make me feel better too.  I don’t remember when was the last time I said it.  In one of my old notes, it read that the phrase made me feel like I am cheering my peers on, and that in turn, I cheer myself on.  It gave the much needed boost and laughter that most of us tend to forget, especially when buried with inches  and inches of reading.

Somewhere along the way, I believe the word just lost its meaning and its effect on people.  It started to appear and sound shallow, and most of the time, quite undeserved, even if people refuse to admit it.  I think I still say that from time to time, but the lack of frequency showed just when it should be heard — when you actually worked hard for it.  

There are a lot of baby notes here.  One even thanked me for being a cheesy friend that never failed to make him happy and comfortable.  One thanked me for my ability to listen intently to their stories, encouraging them to speak more.  One thanked cigarettes (oh my I wonder who that is LOL) for giving us time to bond.  One flattered me the most:  that I am the glue that holds everyone together.  *insert tear here*

I think I’ve forgotten how well I was doing.  I think I got scared with the things I didn’t initially know, so it hampered my ability to absorb what was being taught.  I made myself weak because from the looks of it, I started strong.

So maybe, I should say CONGRATULATIONS more.


The cactus I got from Baguio after our PACE workshop.
Yes it is still very much alive. 

I’m going to stop hiding if you start showing yourself.

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So the last couple of posts made me sound like someone who can’t do anything better that day.  I’ve decided to put an end to it (or a pause, if you may) and just be my ranting self.

I haven’t spoken to my mom for the past 36 hours.  It all started when she picked me up from QC.  She said I’ve been gaining weight.  When Thursday morning came, she said I should work out more.  Around lunchtime, she said I’m becoming "wider".  Then on our way to church, she said my clothes are inappropriate and slutty.  Talk about tough love eh?  Naturally, I stomped my way to the closet to change clothes.  There’s not much to say after that.  She just  stopped talking.

Don’t get me wrong; you can criticize me all you want and I welcome that.  But I guess that’s not always the case when it comes to your family.  Your family is the sole core group that is obliged to love and care for you, no matter what shape or size you’re in.  I felt a bit betrayed when I noticed that she hasn’t really said anything worth remembering since I got here.  I’m starting to regret my decision to spend the long vacation here.  

Honestly, I don’t feel like apologizing.  What am I supposed to apologize for?  For reacting the way I did?  I never questioned her maternal right over me; she has the right to reprimand me all she wants when I’m wrong.  I just wish she can be more empathic.  She can be overly critical and she can make it look like my fault.  I mean, come on.  Are you kidding me?  Hindi porke anak ako, ako na lang parati ang mali.  I have all the right in the world to react against anyone’s opinion, especially those that hurt my pride and ego.  

I’m sure, once I tell this to my friends, I’ll get a handful of advice.  Listen to her, she’s your mom.  You shouldn’t have said that.  Blah.  Blah.  Blah.  Where in the rule book did it say that moms are infallible?  I mean, fuck it, they know best, that’s for sure, but where in the grand scheme of things did it say that they can never make a mistake in raising their child?  I’m raised well; I thank God every day for that.  But sometimes, the things she says and the way she reacts to how I look and the things I say make me question whether I measure up to her idea of a daughter.

Dear Mom.  I am 24.  Freaking 24.  I get it.  You just want me to look better.  But your manner of saying it makes me feel ugly.  You make me feel ugly.  Seriously.  And you should be the last person that could make me feel like this.  Ironically, you’re the first.  I am not going to apologize for the way I dress.  It makes me feel pretty.  My clothes make me feel sexy and confident.  I don’t like the fact that you’re trying to change that, just so I can conform to a conservative set of rules made up 30 years ago.  This is now and I am born in the now.  I am not forcing you to live my years, so don’t force me to live yours.  Next time you tell me to cover up, be prepared to wear a plunging neckline.  If I’m changing for you, you should be as hell ready to change for me.

There.  End rant here.  I go now to my secret place where Alejandro and Rubi just keeps looking at each other and this song plays in the background.

*happy place* 

There will always be black and white keys in my head and I’ll keep playing them for you.

/ iamsupercarla / 10 Comments

Just when I thought I can post on a daily basis, I fail myself.  Then again, that seems to be part of a routine, and with that, I have no counter-arguments.  

I received the bulk of my final exams this week and as it turned out, I wasn’t that far off in my computation.  I am just bracing myself for the worst and to be frank, the worst is yet to come.  If only I didn’t have so much in my mind.

I came across a quote by the late great Leo Buscaglia and it read:  Death is a challenge; it tells us not to waste time.  What a challenge indeed.  We spend every waking moment, getting from one minute to another, but has any of you stopped to think if that minute was well spent?

tick tock tick tock goes the clock

Moving out and moving in. Yes, I have my own version of that.

/ iamsupercarla / 4 Comments

Happy note:
Dylan ended up spending his birthday evening with me.  I’m quite surprised how the night turned out.  After his shift, he texted and asked if he can take me out to dinner.  Who am I to refuse that invite?  I was able to give him his gifts, and confirmed my status of "Best Girlfriend Ever".  He went oh-no-you-didn’t-just-get-me-this for a good ten minutes.  It was nice to make him happy at that moment.  He was so tired from work and the jam-packed day; I’m just fortunate to have the best pick-upper. :)

Sunday note:
The day was scorching hot.  The day was so hot, it reminded me how much I hate the place I am renting each time noon comes.  By 1PM, my room converted to a big oven.  I had to get out and get me some air conditioning; even after showering, I can feel the sweat trickling down my back.  I spent a good hour in Coffee Bean, TriNoma, but ended up going to Antipolo for some quality time with the cousins.  Of course, the fact that they had the A/C on all day contributed greatly to a time well-spent.  Dinner was even more amazing, thanks to the neighborhood roast chicken.  I came home just around thirty minutes ago, with a full stomach, but still not enough time to have spent online.

I’ve been thinking about having someone host my own website.  Scratch that.  (Okay).  I’ve been thinking of putting up my own website so I can put all of my shit in it, but I can’t seem to imagine leaving LJ.  After all, this site has hosted a good 6 years of my thoughts (including the ones I had to delete when jealousy was still an issue in our relationship).  I’m also contemplating whether it would be a money-making machine for me, should I choose to open it up to the public and make my random ramblings known and encourage advertisers to post to my site (under the premise that I do have that much traffic which I don’t), or if it’ll be just another dent in my savings.  

ha! to wallow in self-pity

Hush hush.

/ iamsupercarla / 4 Comments

 Something kicked in and I know I shouldn’t ignore it.  I was right to bring my laptop to work because in the middle of discussing spot rates and swaps, I felt the urge to write.  It’s been a while since I last felt the urge, and I’m not about to let it pass me by.

I am a firm believer of lying.  Really.  Though some people might find that immoral, I believe it makes me a great friend, and a great secret keeper.  For quite some time, people have confided with me their deepest and darkest secrets which explains  why I have bangs.  Contrary to my extroverted personality, I am a very good secret keeper.  How?  When people ask me about someone else’s secrets, I lie.  Brutal, but true.

What am I supposed to say to them?  "I promised"?  "They made me take an unbreakable vow" (Harry Potter fans WAVE!)?  There are not enough people in this world that can easily understand there are just some things that cannot be shared.  There are just some things that are not for public knowledge.  Once I say that, they instantly call me  "corny".  Some even quip "Sige na, ako lang naman eh."  But the thing is, the secret is not for you.  The secret is just for me and the giver.  I am the secret keeper, and the moment I tell you about it, it is no longer kept.

So I make up stories, things that will feed their curiosity and end it.  I feed them the words they want to hear, or the words they expect to hear.  I know it’s mean, but what am I supposed to do?  I get cut both ways.  Each time I have to make up these stories, I have to file them in my head so the next time they ask, I’d know how to follow it up.  It becomes a compulsion even.  It becomes such an addiction that you make up another lie to support the previous one.

This is the cost.  This is what makes me a bad person.  I lie to friends to protect friends.  I lie with grace and poise.  It almost flows smoother than the Mississippi river on a good day.  Which is why I am freaking pissed, angry, and immediately envelop myself in a field of loathe and anger when the secret giver assumes that I gave their secret away.  

WHAT THE FUCK MAN.  Do they even know how hard it is to keep their secrets?  It’s not that I mind; it actually makes me feel good when people see me as their confidante.  But the moment they gather the guts to question my word — the word I gave them after they shared their secrets — it just fucking makes me want to shove their faces to the wall.  I’m doing everything that I can to understand as much as I should; I’ve always believed that we are in this world challenged to be more empathic (read: compassion).  But you have no right to question my loyalty.

I believe I am one of the most loyal people you’ll ever meet.  When you’re right, I’ll defend you.  When you’re wrong, I’ll protect you.  I’ll protect you to the skin of my teeth.  I tell you what your mistakes are, I give you valid advice, I don’t shrug off your criticism, I accept and reject with proper reasoning and logic.  So why the fuck would you question the one thing that I promised I would do for you?

Sometimes, it’s not worth it anymore.  Being a friend to this kind of people.  The ones who constantly question the level of your friendship.  Of MY friendship.  You don’t get to do that.  Because I don’t fucking do that to you.

I’m so relieved to get this off my chest.  I didn’t realize just how much it has been bothering me until I actually sat down and started punching the keys to this thing.  This laptop, by far, is the best material investment I’ve ever made.