pensive

I made everyone wait, including myself.

/ iamsupercarla / 10 Comments

Something is off.  I can feel it in my bones.  Last Saturday, I went with Adah, Alfie and Amanda (and Euske the bungi!) to the Fully Booked short story writing seminar at The Fort.  The speaker was Tara FT Sering, a Palanca winner, and she was teaching us how to develop a character and complex plots in hopes of adding depth to the story.  I believe it’s been a while since I last attended something that fed my artistic fancy.  I was surrounded by great teachers from various language schools, aspiring writers, contributors, and even an idol (Thank you God for that day).  For that afternoon, I was moved.  For a good solid two hours, I was driven to write.

So after dining with my friends, I came home and indulged by surfing the Internet, much love to the free wifi connection.  Then I went to my journal, realizing that it’s been a week (yet again) since I last wrote something and two weeks since I last wrote something of substance.  Just when I thought I was moved, I was stuck.  A solid hour.  I was just staring at this blank page, not knowing what to write.  And it’s not like me to not have an opinion about something.  And again, I was depressed.

There’s something about this training that’s flushing out all of my artistic fuel.  I think it’s the fact that I am trying so hard to catch up with everyone else (and everything else) that’s driven me out of the artsy fartsy canvas.  And I miss it.  I miss the abstract display of emotion, and the verbose stylings of poets and young writers, and the romanticism of death, and the tragedy and comedie (as spelled by good ol’ Will) of love.  I miss them all.  I should really do something.  This is the kind of skill that’s not covered in our training modules.

I do remember one thing in the seminar that proved to be most useful for me:  just write.  What if I get writer’s block?  Just write.  Even just about random things?  Yes.  Even if it’s just a collection of fragments and phrases?  Um.. duh.  Even if thoughts are not cohesive?  Just fucking write.

And so I did.

Ending thought:  Dylan and I should visit a museum soon. 

Why can’t I just prioritize?

/ iamsupercarla / 4 Comments

I know I shouldn’t be blogging.  There are a lot of work requirements due tomorrow  at 9 in the morning (music much?) and I haven’t even gone halfway through it.  I don’t know how I’m supposed to make it shorter or sweeter even.  I know I have all the data at hand, but I just can’t bring myself to actually do it.  To actually write about it.  To actually be productive.

To be frank, I’m not usually like this.  Though I have been a fan of procrastination for years now, I don’t let it affect my work.  I do my part well and well ahead of time, but right now, I’m not doing anything.  Well, I’ve been Googling Journey for the past hour and listening to their songs.  I’ve been trying to understand how is Arnel Pineda different from Steve Perry, because when you listen closely, they pretty much sound the same, but what the heck right?  

I guess one of the main reasons why I am so counterproductive in the past six days is because what I’m supposed to be producing is something that is completely against my nature.  I don’t talk about numbers.  I don’t talk about trending.  I don’t talk about cash conversion cycles, I don’t talk about improved net sales, I don’t talk about ratios or estimates or conservative projections.  I don’t talk about facts in such a technical manner.  I just don’t.  I tell stories, stories that lived in my head from five minutes to fifteen years.  I talk about ambiguities, subtleties, sweet ironies and sarcasm and the joyful witticisms of everyday.  That’s what I talk about.  Not measures.  Not fractions.  Not growth.  Not all those.  Not one of those.

Now, don’t think that I am ungrateful; everyday, I learn something new.  Everyday, I am given new knowledge and that is something I am very thankful for.  The knowledge comes for free and when I do learn it, I get rewarded by being paid for it.  Nothing can beat that kind of exchange.  But everyday, I become more afraid of losing myself.  What I do — even if it is for the betterment of my intellectual being, even if its goal is to uplift the Filipino’s quality of life — is becoming me.  I am becoming too rational.  I am becoming too technical.  And I don’t feel like me.  At least, not as much as six months ago.

I can’t be abstract here.  I can’t be weird.  I can’t even dress according to my liking.  My wardrobe has been limited to block colors and grays.  Though  these colors (for me) are much more preferable than the staple black, it still feels like makeup — something to cover the surface.  Unfortunately, I sleep with makeup sometimes, so it gets under my skin in the morning.  It’s just like that — I do it so often, it gets under my skin.

I don’t want to be this, but I want to secure my future.  I want to be able to provide for myself and not have to wait till I’m married to get the things that I want for myself.  I want to be able to give my kids a future that they deserve.  I want to be able to give my parents a trip to Europe.  I want to be able to set an example to my brothers.  And these daily lessons, these researches, dissertations, critique papers, projections, statements and estimations…. all these will get me there.

I just hope I find a much better way to do all that and still keep the me that I love so much.

 

Turn the weekend around

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Friday wasn’t really a sparkling gem for me.  To make matters worse, I can’t seem to find my confidante.  I don’t know why he tends to be so bipolar, but sometimes, I can’t put up with it.  Or maybe, I just cannot handle intense emotion without having to punch the wall.  And when I don’t get to punch anything, I break out — pimples, tears, screaming fit, whichever applies.

Got to watch a movie with Adah today and it was a good change of pace.  I told myself it was a good distraction, because Dylan and I can’t seem to communicate well today.  To be frank, it was a really good distraction, and I find myself planning the next girly date.  But in the end, I am still bothered by the fact that I didn’t get to talk to him today.  I guess a part of me still tries to adjust to his schedule, including his moods.  He’s always in a foul mood when the weekend comes, because he has to work.  And I don’t have to work on a weekend.  So while my batteries are recharging, his are about to expire.  

Sometimes, I feel guilty for expecting too much from him, but I think that’s only because I give a lot.  Learning from John Lloyd and Sarah, I know that I am put in a wrong spot when I try to compare the intensity of my feelings for him with the intensity of his feelings for me.  Kelangan pantay lang, they say.  I have to accept his best without comparing it with mine.  But it’s hard to be in that position, to be that understanding and accepting.  In some places, they revere women for it (haha).  Then again, there’s really not much left to do.  To understand and to listen — two of the main functions of a partner.  I intend to be a partner, not just a girlfriend.

I know that he won’t talk to me properly.  Not tonight.  Not tonight at all.  If I’m not mistaken, today is just a resting off, meaning he got off at work around 9 in the morning, and will report for work tomorrow at 7 in the morning.  I know what I shouldn’t expect and yet, I check my phone every five minutes, hoping for a decent reply or a spark of a decent conversation.

Thank God for Coffee Bean.

And I am trying to get over some petty issues at work.  I didn’t think I’d be upset over something so minute, but I was.  Maybe it just took a toll on me.  Maybe the neglect and the apathy from someone I least expected just confirmed the notion that I might not be good enough to be there.  That I am not smart enough to gain the respect of my peers.  That I do not have the intellectual capacity to be taken seriously.

So I guess, that’s one of the reasons why I got upset, even if it was something as minor as coffee.  It just confirmed my assumptions.  And I hate knowing that much.  

I hope the more appealing weekend kicks off to a better week.  A much better week.  I really need a much better week.

I expected too much. Nothing changes. I fear nothing will.

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The new year barely started but I can already feel that nothing has changed.

Last Saturday, my mom and I went to the Mall of Asia, just to look around for gifts for those in NJ.  My cousin Marc is leaving on the 8th, and we wanted to give our relatives there simple nothings for the holidays.  My dad brought my lola and aunt and uncle home in Manila and dropped us off there.  We told him to get some rest, reminding him that’s it’s only been a month since his heart attack.  He said he will.  We came home around 10PM, after my brothers picked us up after their male bonding session in Antipolo.  My dad wasn’t home.  He never came home.  He went out to smoke and gamble with friends. 

I hate my dad and his constant disregard for his physical well-being.  I hate my dad for constantly rejecting opportunities that he can spend with us.  I hate my dad for making us, his family, always wait.  He fucking always makes us wait.  We’re always spectators in whatever he’s doing, but he’s never a spectator for us.  He’s never there.  And he wonders why I don’t like coming home.  What a shithole.

I can’t believe my grievances came in early this year.  I can’t believe it’s only been four days and already my dad is setting the record for being the country’s earliest asswipe mover.  I can’t believe this at all.

Why do we always have to wait?  Family comes first, right?  How come that’s not the case for us?  What the fuck?

Oh and Dylan?  Well.. there’s new drama again.  I can’t believe this is not yet over.  I am so tired.  I just want to be happy.  I just want to be satisfied.  With this new drama, he will always be angry again.  He will always be depressed again.  And I have to be strong again.  And I’m tired of being strong.  This is one of the reasons why I like being around Patrick and Moks.  I can be wimpy with them, and I won’t feel bad about it.  I can be lame, and I won’t feel guilty.  I don’t have to put up a strong facade and pretend that I can handle everything.  I am so tired.  I just want to be happy.

The worst part is what comes with the drama.  Whenever there’s the drama in his life, he forgets that he loves me.  I take a backseat.  And worse, I stay there.  I can’t believe it.  Just when I thought I’m done being the last on his list, I’m back here again. 

I love him.  So much.  Too much.  I wish I knew how to let go.  It would be easier, I know that for a fact.  But I don’t want to start all over again.  I don’t want to go through having to cope with the loss again, and finding someone again, and having someone to care for me again, someone that won’t mind my phone calls or texts, someone that doesn’t consider me as  a nuisance.  I want him back.  I want him back so badly.  I want the Dylan that I have come to love.  This is not him.  The angry vengeful kind.  The depressed.  I want my strong man back.  He used to be so strong.  And now… I have to be the one again.

I can’t be strong for two men.  I can’t be strong for both my dad and my boyfriend.  I can only do so much, and I am so tired.  I am soooo tired.  I don’t want to be here anymore.  I don’t want to be in this position anymore.  There are days  when I just want to pass the time with Pat and Moks because with them, I can be shallow.  I can be imperfect.  I can be OC and OA and they won’t hate me for it.  They won’t criticize me for it.  They won’t call me weak and shut me out.  I just want to be just a girl.  I just want to be happy.  And it’s taking so long to get there.

They say that we go through hard parts because that’s how you extract the perfect cup of tea.  You put it in hot water and temper it for a time.  I must be God’s fucking favorite cup of tea.  It never ends.  Being a daughter, a lover, a partner, a friend, a MAPee… I can’t believe I’m even thinking of getting a fucking sport to add to that list.

I want to be happy again.  I hope Dylan wants that too, for himself I mean.  I miss the happy Dylan.  I miss the stressed-but-graceful-still Dylan.  I do not like the angry Dylan who forgets about me.

Am I forgettable?  Am I that dispensable?  That’s the second worst thing you know.  First for me is to go blind, next, is to not be remembered.  I have constantly pushed myself to do something to be memorable.  For people not to forget about me.  For people to always remember my name or at least an experience associated to that name.  I do not want to be forgotten.

I do not want him to forget.  I do not want him to forget.  Nothing can be more painful than that.

And the year is ending and they call it..

/ iamsupercarla / 4 Comments

So the year is ending.  The last couple of days, we celebrated the Susi Family Reunion 2009.  It was really fun.  I can’t even begin to describe how happy I was to have Dylan there.  It’s his fourth reunion and to be frank, I have a feeling there’s more to come.

I want to blog today, but something’s not feeling right as I write these, so I’m going to stop and perhaps continue later.