Unfortunately, I do.

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“She was waiting but 
she didn't know for what. 
She was aware only of her solitude, and of the 
penetrating cold, 
and of a greater weight in 
the region of 
her heart." 

(Albert Camus)

eating one's feelings

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I think I'm a medium-type of loner. By this, I mean that while there are certain things I cannot imagine doing alone (off the top of my head, weddings, bars on Mondays and Fridays, concerts, and book stores when I am on a budget), I am certainly strong enough for movies and the usual event/play/thing.

So when D cancelled on me today, I thought, why not. I haven't hung out with me a lot lately. And, I'm super fun. (Hahhaha)

And now, I will tell you what Solo Saturdays mean: good food, a great book, and a willingness to be judged for eating alone.

Eating alone is a doozy, isn't it? I find that no matter how many times, I really still feel the sads when I go to eating places on my own.

I believe it's more my family's fault, really. I grew up in a home where one simply didn't alone. We waited for each other, we talked, we shared.

And when I went to college, try as I might, I couldn't shake the notion that I eating alone was bad juju.

Still, we all have to grow up. And the reality is, I only go home on weekends to where everyone is.

So now, I'm 'manning up', and eating my way through the stares, one chocolate-laced dish at a time.

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Sometimes, they come back.

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“How do you stop longing for what you absolutely know you can’t get? Which really means: How do you absolutely know you can’t—and won’t—get it, not ever? How do you pinch out that wisp of feeble, ruthless hope?”
(Leigh Newman, Still Points North)

 I do not know how to imbed videos so the weepy song is through here

I think I lost the ability to write. Hahahha. This post might be the break this blog needs, not that it gets read a lot. But still. One never knows. This post is so weird. And I feel so messy right now. Messy is a state, isn't it? Not a feeling. But I feel it all, and I hate it and I need to yell at you, but I can't so I will just content myself with this.

This high always begins with a prayer.

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I very rarely fly alone, so I am usually holding hands with family, or holding hearts and eyes and excitement with friends.(I can actually count the number of times I've ever been on a plane alone: it's...three. And at 24, that actually feels strange.)

The prayer, this handhold, the safety reminders, all background the sweetest noise: the revving of the plane, the start of us taxiiing, the beginning of take-off.

Flying always gives me this high, a divine sense of awesome. There's just something in being thousands of feet above the ground that makes you feel like you can do anything, be anyone, go anywhere...that lets you know that you can.

And take-off is that signal, that ping! that takes you to that magical place.

For me, it's an affirmation that I can be more than I am.

I just have to pray, to hold on, and fly.





Apropos of everything.

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"I know now, Kostya, I understand now, that in our work -- and it makes no difference whether we're acting or whether we're writing -- the main thing is not the fame, not the glory, no the things that I used to dream of; it's the ability to endure. Learn to bear your cross; have faith. I have faith, and for me, the pain is less. And when I think about my vocation, I am not afraid of life."

(Nina to Kostya, The Seagull)

I am currently reading a collection of Anton Chekhov's plays, and the Seagull is constantly on my mind. 

Mostly because I am regressing and becoming stupid in the head lately. GAH. I have to bring my A game back to my life. 

It's unfair to everyone whose working their asses off, while I coast. 

Also, I have never been a coaster. (Side note, how would it feel to be like a coaster for reals? Either a roller coaster, which would be exciting or a glass coaster, which would be...annoying. ahahaha)

Re-booting, please.

peace of mind

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An officemate of mine has a running joke, where he asks us where he can buy peace of mind.

I think I got to buy mine last week. At least now, I know that I have done all I can, through all the proper channels available to me, to make my voice heard.

As another officemate has said, I have to let the rest of it go.

I have to think and to plan, and to be patient, but I know I will get there.

Taking solace in quotes (hahaha everything has been reduced to this), this one from Heroes is a good kick in the ass: "No one makes a movie about the ending."

So now, I just have to do my best, my utter best, to make things work from my end.

I need a boost.

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Or an escape.

I'm so sick of everything lately.

I hate all of this.

I feel like I've done all the right steps, and yet, no one is there to help me.

More than the exhaustion, it's the dismay, the realization that there is no one left here who cares about us. Everyone great has left, and we are the ones left to cover the ever-widening gaps.

Today, the priest said something extremely loaded: "Let us Love the Lord in others."

And I am trying but, this is SO HARD.

I'm about to break, and it ain't gonna be pretty.

I pray that I can get through, I've been keeping my head down (within reason) but it's getting close to breakpoint.

As I begin this week, this is my prayer: Lord, let me love You in others.

Help me, 2014 is so far away.
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I really like you a lot. I realized it today. I know you don’t like me back. It’s okay if I just like you on my own. But… you seeing someone else, thinking about someone else, liking someone else… it’s strange… that’s not okay. Just thinking about that makes my heart lurch. It hurts, like it’s sinking. I think I might like you a lot.
         (Sung-Bin, I Hear Your Voice)

svp

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Take
This
Away.

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l'hopital

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It only
takes
the thought of
you
to remind me
that I
loathe
all of
you.


This cannot be happening again.

You are

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A book before movie person
Becoming that great conversation
The one willing to ride my crazy
Constantly on my mind

And now, you have me quite terrified.

*it's the night of my big launch, and all I have on my mind is you. Ack.

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nasa ganitong level na yung discussions:

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A: Ano pa ba yan? 
F: Yun parin. Kailangan ko lang ng isa pang run.
A: Eh kaya yan. May... 20 minutes ka pa.
F: Wow.
A: Please, wag na tayong lumampas ng twelve. Kailangan natin ng Work-Life Balance! (maniacal laughter)

*Sidebar, I am quite amused at the #medyobadgirl hash tag thing. This is my semi-contribution to that?

run on mayhem

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I feel like everything is all happening and everyone is expecting that everything is going to go well because I'm doing everything and I can't do everything, and I know something will give, and I am afraid I am not sure what that something is, but it will be big and everything will be horrible and I keep checking and re-checking what I feel like I'm missing and it seems to be nothing and I am beginning to feel like nothing because everything is happening but I cannot be everything.

(To a friend, as tonight's pile of OT begins) 

When you live near a cemetery, death becomes an interesting daily diversion.

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I am unexpectedly working from home today, the result of yesterday's bad muffin choices. (Well, I am assuming it was the muffin I ate yesterday, as it was the lone foreign element in all of the things I ate.)

Working from home is its own mix of tiredness, as there are less files to work with, still the same work, and perversely, the days when you are far from your workstation often become the days when everything seems to be happening, and more.

Thankfully, today seems to be a little less of any of that, but still tiring. (For me, anything unplanned usually is.)

I fell asleep around my email checks, supplier calls and bathroom time, and woke up hungry.

This was good, as I hadn't had anything before then: the idea of food was disgusting this morning.

But right now, it seemed to be everything.

I am lucky to be living in a dorm where we have a canteen, and can call down for food. It's hella convenient in the mornings after famishing runs.

Today, though, I decided to walk down and get something from Burger Machine, just so I could stretch my legs (and my attachment to the bathroom).

As I was waiting for my burger, I spied two funeral hearses. Both white, heading to South Cemetery, their nearness to one another disturbing the drama of each separate loss. I saw some the groups of mourners looking askance at the other group. To me, it seemed like the were daring one another: whose loss is/was greater?


It seemed a rude, unnecessary way to jar people into reality: a first-hand whack upside the head that loss not only occurred everywhere, it could also happen simultaneously.

I was watching them, as one does,** wondering what would happen, when the moment worked itself out. They both played the same funeral march song.

And as the strains of "Paalam Na" wafted from both hearses, the two grieving groups nodded to one another, and went on their way, both secure in the knowledge that loss was universal, but grief was personal.

*I am very, very blessed to have encountered very little loss in my life. My brother Michael died when I was too young to understand, or to grieve about it. My parents have been amazing at sharing him with us, and I know a little of the laughter in our house has given way for him. My grandfather Abel died when I was in college, the summer I passed Math 11, and I know he knew how much I love him for introducing me to breakfast, and the joys of dancing in the rain. Another uncle, my Uncle Roy, passed away recently. I am still dealing with his being gone, and I know he knows that.  I like to believe that they are together somewhere, just like in Elsewhere, one of my favorite versions of life after Earth.
**When they're me, anyway. To people watch is to live.
***It seems weird to be posting about death and stomach pains and whathaveyou but I just don't know.

these are my happy socks

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I call them that because they make me feel at ease, safe and...happy. Har.

It's first night in Bangkok and I feel...I feel.

Work trips are a different thing from explore trips, but I am beginning to warm to them.

Super excited for tomorrow's workshop! :)

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Go after her. Fuck, don’t sit there and wait for her to call, go after her because that’s what you should do if you love someone, don’t wait for them to give you a sign cause it might never come, don’t let people happen to you, don’t let me happen to you, or her, she’s not a fucking television show or tornado. There are people I might have loved had they gotten on the airplane or run down the street after me or called me up drunk at four in the morning because they need to tell me right now and because they cannot regret this and I always thought I’d be the only one doing crazy things for people who would never give enough of a fuck to do it back or to act like idiots or be entirely vulnerable and honest and making someone fall in love with you is easy and flying 3000 miles on four days notice because you can’t just sit there and do nothing and breathe into telephones is not everyone’s idea of love but it is the way I can recognize it because that is what I do. Go scream it and be with her in meaningful ways because that is beautiful and that is generous and that is what loving someone is, that is raw and that is unguarded, and that is all that is worth anything, really.
(Harvey Milk)

Alright, already. Going after someone in a while. :)

faire du leche-vitrines

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translates, according to my Module 5 professor, to window shopping.*

And this was my main Friday night activity with my dormmate/officemate M today.

As it was Friday, we decided to go home early and not OT our time away. 

I was (is, constantly) feeling restless and asked if we could walk around for a bit. It was a good thing that M wanted to see where Studio Fix (my hair place) was, so we went there, and let the night lead us into the rest.

I'm the type of person that always gets taken in by pretty things: I have pretty low impulse control. This, coupled with my need to explore every possible nook and cranny of every place, has led me to some interesting purchase decisions over the years.

Basically, I never window shop. I pretend to, but I almost always get something.

Among the things that I have accumulated over years of low impulse control are shoes (another obsession altogether, honestly), various dream catchers stationed everywhere in my room, hair pieces that I use for everything but my hair, and even some pretty notebook/notepads combination.

I cannot count my books here, because really, BOOOOOOOOOKS.

I'm like a magpie, only it doesn't even have to be shiny.

Over the years, I did all I could to ease away from my magpie tendencies: I avoided malls unless I had a list, I only brought specific amounts of money with me daily, and I earmarked a specific amount of money for books. 

I have been somewhat successful over the years.**

Tonight was a test of sorts for me, as I was able to rein in spending money on this pair of Ipanema sandals, which I am on my 3rd month of 6th month rule-ing.*** I was also able to turn away from this cute khaki dress, the notion of Fries, and this really fun ice cube shaper that I felt I really needed.

I only spent for food at Tous Les Jours, and we were even in time for their buy one, take one activities! 

Somehow, magically, I was able to turn away from everything, because I knew I would be in BKK next week. 

I am actually saving up and considering my coming activities before my current needs.

It's taking all of me, but I like this slow, steady race towards growing up. :)

*Sidebar (my sidebars have returned!), don't you just adore how Francais is so specific? And so long? :) I promise, this isn't ironic. I really like how the language flows. When spoken properly, it's quite beautiful.
**Sidebar number two: one of my Philosophy professors once said that the irony of not buying anything in malls was rather quiet. After all, even if you didn't buy anything, you paid (fare, gas) to get there. Then there
would parking, food, etc. I like that description: quiet. You always think you only get what you need, then boom. Not at all, not at all, not at all.
***The Six Month Rule: For any expensive item, one must wait six months if it will be worth it. So far, those sandals are shaping up
 to be worth it, harumph.

Make time.

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I write so little these days.

Well, perhaps I should amend that to, I blog so little these days.

My journal is bleeding with my crazy thoughts lately.

But writing has become a bit of a chore lately, and I am not sure why.

I feel all strung out.

I could always fall back on that comfortingly ready excuse - that I'm too busy. But really, I have time to tweet song lyrics at periodic moments in a day.

That should give me time to blog, shouldn't it?

I started this blog in the hopes of working on my writing, as practice, and also as a way to keep up with myself. I never thought I would outpace me. 

And so, it is now back to this, a re-hash of the last few moments of last year, to go beyond finding the time for the activities that matter more.