Of fistbumps and burrowers.

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Today is Famealy Day, something I have been aware of for the past few months. On Famealy Day, we are all supposed to go home and eat dinner with our families. Seeing as I don't go home everyday, I was planning on spending today in bed with Charlie* and ice cream.

But Hans and Senior convinced me to go have dinner with them. So I did. Truthfully, I didn't want to. I've been in a sad mood all day, as I worked this weekend, and didn't get to go home. I haven't had any family dinners in a while. And then I watched Brave last night, it made me cry which gave me sniffles. (I've been going through tissues like I go through water bottles. Hee)

Still, I went because I was kinda b*tchy at lunch today. Also because they're very fun and funny, to be around. I have observed that I am only funny-adjacent. Meaning, if I'm with funny people, I'm funny. But when I'm with sad people, I'll be sad...hey maybe I'm emotion-adjacent. I'm...that makes me not normal. Again. Hmm. Another thought to file away for another day.

I was right. :)

The three of us are on our last legs, salary-wise (Thank GOODNESS suweldo na bukas!) so we had to pool our resources to buy hotdog and Sprite. We spent a very intense thirty minutes in 7-Eleven before ducking out and buying hotdogs at that Korean grocery on Rada, heh. We then went to Senior's place and made dinner and talked and watched Cash Cab.

Mostly it was just the usual conversation about rankings, and office stuff, and wondering about the future but still.

It felt...family-esque. Family-adjacent, I guess.

I've always been a bit of a compartmentalizer. I like to put people into slots and label them. Friend. Hair person. Wax lady. Officemate. Brother. Boyfriend (ahahahah). And with the exception of PSRC, which is not much of an exception as most of the people who work there are my schoolmates, I've never really made a lot of effort to get to know people in the office.

Maybe it's because I was always thinking of the next step, of that one year period that I knew was the only promise I could make to whoever was there.

I started out compartmentalizing: I ate at my desk, was polite and quiet.  I've noticed that the pattern you set in your first 2 weeks at any place is the one that the people there will give you, so I thought I could keep mine up.

But Starlink has been different for me in a lot of ways. Mainly that time thing, as I've often said in past posts. But also with the people thing, because they're...they burrowers. I don't know if that's a word.

Somehow, they snuck past my politeness. Not that I was mean, or anything. I laughed when I had to, gave as good as I could with the jokes. I just didn't want to go beyond that. Still, that was never quite enough. Somehow, they managed to burrow in and become my friends, with no qualifiers.

I now have these guys to annoy and confide in, to fight with and make fun with. And though this means that everyone in the office thinks I'm a guy, I'm actually quite okay with that, if it means having people who can fist bump you to laughter, enjoy slightly dirty jokes with, and use for your social experiments. Ehem. I mean observations. :)

Those two don't read this blog, but I don't think they have to.

I'll just fist bump them tomorrow.
 *Charlie is the lead in Perks of Being A Wallflower, the birthday book I got myself. :D

Blessed, for Always.

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The people I love are a constant testament to this quote from one of my favorite YA books:

"It's not true that you're only going to have one person to spend the rest of your life with. If you do well, and you're very, very lucky, there will always be more than one." (Ely, Naomi+Ely's No Kiss List)

Wee. Just got back from birthday dinner with Den+Noy. 

I love birthday dinners.

I would write more, in a proper way more, but sometimes, words just cheapen things. :)

So this is what that feels like.

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That is sort of paraphrased from a scene in Batman: The Dark Knight Rises. It's the scene where Batman and Catwoman just escaped from some evil people* and he's asking her something while he turns his back to her to get something. When he turns back around, she's gone. And then he says: 'So that's what that feels like.' 

Well. In my case, it's more to do with the recent spate of people leaving our office. 

See, I've always been The Leaverbehinder (this is a term from one of my friends, who has used it to describe me, constantly). Since school, I've never stayed beyond a year at any of the places I worked at. 

People always ask me why I do this.

And honestly, the answer to that is, I don't know. I just...it just happens. Life just happens. It used to annoy me when people told me I was way too carefree, that I should act my age, when I was really giving them the honest answer. 

I didn't know. (Mindf*ck side bar: does anyone EVER know?)

I don't exactly go someplace, and say to myself, 'This time next year, I'm gone.' It's never been that way. Someone will ask me something about something, I'll reply and before you know it, it's a whole new adventure.

But now, being on the other side of it, the left behind side, you kind of see, 'Ohhhh.' So that's what they were feeling. 

It's strange. Suddenly, I feel sad, feel weird, feel like I'll never get on without that person/s whose going. I want to snicker and call them out on leaving. And I want to be mad at them, for moving on when I'm standing still.

And I'd like to end this neatly, with a resolution to those feelings. That I wish them all the best, and hope they find what they're looking for. That some part of me hopes with all hope that we'll remain the very best of friends, and by that I mean beyond Facebook. That I really, really want them to be happy.

I'd like to tell you I'm over that, and now, I'm totally happy and whatnot.

But I'm afraid I'm still stuck with feeling what this feels like.

*What? I don't want to be a spoiler. Also, WATCH THE MOVIE.
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"Katsuyama, looking into the eyes of someone 
who will never 
love you back is a 
life of despair.”

(Rie, Gaksital)


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denial, n.: 

When you choose to know less, even when 
you know better

(Twitter feed, David Levithan)