Sudden Surge of Selfishness

Okay, maybe a little.

Since I do not have a printer yet, I had no choice but to have my stuff printed at a computer shop in front of my dorm.

This is not just any shop — my (former) roommates and I refer to it as THE jejemon shop. It is a very small room with more or less ten computers, where kids addicted to various computer games spend whatever was left of their day’s allowance. These kids are the sweaty, swearing kind; the ones who never managed to keep themselves clean and always seemed like a snot shy from looking like street children.

But tonight, to my surprise (or rather annoyance), teenage version of these children are playing counter strike at the shop. They threat each other as if what they were doing is a matter of life and death. Some were even basking in the glory of virtual murder. Others were swearing vengeance for the virtual life lost.

Maybe the night was too quiet outside or the space was too small. But nonetheless, every decibel that drummed my ear sent a shot of blood to my brain. I thought my head was going to explode.Then, a rush of memories and formerly brushed off realizations dropped like bombs.

I love my guy friends who play RPGs and other online games. I even joined their dota session once. Love however, is limited to the people themselves. Blame it on my screwed up hormones or my lack of emotional quotient, but I will always hate being in the same room with people playing online games.

I guess the hatred just activates around strangers who spend and bet money for dota or whatever permutations of such existing. This may seem far fetch, but i don’t care — I also hate guys who feel like they will die if they miss the NBA finals on TV. Yeah, even those who play basketball and force their girlfriends to watch. Actually, even those who do not make efforts to have their girlfriends watch a game count.

But like I said, I love my friends. I just can’t last an hour talking with them about the above mentioned things.

Most of all, I swear on my grave, I will never ever be in a relationship with a boy who is addicted to online games and basketball. I’d rather have someone who smokes pot and does not know any sport other than chess.

Yeah, yeah, I know that given the rate of how my life is going regarding relationships, there is no possibility of me being in one even by 2012.  Unless that stupid guy in the Pond’s radio commercial does exist and some stranger will actually look past my horrible face. But that’s an entirely different story.

I just wanted to take note of this, in case life takes me by surprise. (repeat to self: no basketball players and online gamers.)

you have become an entire metaphor,
like a tree thick with leaves
or the ground that gathers dust —
each leaf that sprouts, shades.
each speck that lands, buries.
I am left covered in shadows
and buried in every little thing.


Posted on: June 25, 2010

I want to have a function in your life. Whatever limited amount there is will end this year. The inevitability of disconnection is scaring me. I have lived through a handful of falling outs. But I guess, threshold was never really my cup of tea. I have none. I am torn between making the most of the little time or using it to ease my way out of this impending separation. When I close my eyes, I imagine a void — and I’m falling endlessly into it.

While most people had their summer love or summer fling or what other permutations in between, I got myself intoxicated.

Drinks, daydreams, drama, dilemmas — they all came in tidal waves. They were so overwhelming that I was left stunned and ready to drown. Then, I drank them all in.

I screwed up on a lot of important stuff in a span of four weeks. None of my plans worked and I am still paying the consequences until now. But when I look back, everything seemed like a hazy picture, a long lingering hallucination. Summer was like a drunken state – when you still know what you are doing but you are too wasted to care.

Now, I see my life washed up on the shore. These past days were like that morning after a drinking marathon – cluttered and confusing. I am staggering to clean up my act.

Good bye, summer. I need to sober up soon.

We canned this conversation the night after the kiss. It was a decision, I think, that was too prematurely closed as it was hastily opened. Now it is bulging inside my head like your average expired can of pineapple.

(21 March 2009)

This day is quite a feat of how much drama I can handle in 24 hours.

In the morning, while attempting to finish my final paper, my mother came up to me with a major family drama– the life changing kind. As usual, I found it really awkward to react and I spoke generic responses only to indicate that I was listening. I gave general suggestions, the same I would give if she were ranting about officemates or about what a loser the Philippine president is. These I said in my nonchalant tone, a pitch lower than my already low voice. It only meant one thing – my brain suddenly shutdown and it gave me the feeling that something else has taken over. My other, more emotionally devoid self, went autopilot.

And as if my breakfast was not a soap opera in the making enough, let me tell you what happened late at lunch. I was waiting for the bus to manila because I want/need to be in Katipunan by around 4 or 5pm. After a couple of buses, the one which I did not intend to ride, passed by, it rained. It was not just any rain – the sun was high like an ordinary noon on a summer day. To add insult to injury, the umbrella I had with me barely served its purpose, as a couple of spines were broken and a part of the textile was already detached. This is not main event though. Like an infomercial – yes, wait, there was more.

At last, that elusive HM bus drove by. But as consistent as the day was, the bus did not stop in front of me. The driver just shook his head – no you cannot ride. I never actually saw if the bus was brimming with people. I just did not want to push my already low mood further downhill. It is during times like these that I was reminded of how much I hate Paolo Coelho: no mister, the universe does not conspire for us to have our heart’s desire. In my case, it was even doing otherwise.

I patiently waited for the bus. Mind you, I have a very long patience for most kinds of waiting. I have mastered it, even the kind in vain. In further debunking Coelho, less and less vehicles drove by as the rain continued to batter my tattered umbrella. I could feel the water soaking the hem of my pants by then. The sun? Oh, it was still searing.

The moment that came next was very reminiscent of the parting of the sea. Come to think of it, Lenten season is near, which only meant of our usual serving of The Ten Commandments movie on television. I cannot exactly remember if there were other cars on the highway, motorcycles even, when this happened.

Everything was in slow motion. The rain and shine were blurring my view. But when I saw your car moving towards me, I did not just autopilot – I autofocused. No peripheral vision, just you behind the windshield, looking at me with those sharp eyes. They are normally sharp, but I was expecting anything more than a neutral reaction– like smile, smirk, or scorn. Anything would have given justice for my character in that scene, but I was beginning to think that darn Coelho was being cryptic and that seminal quote had its fine print: my dear reader, only a fool would believe this; of course I meant the opposite.

Then came the shock, the casting down of eyes, and looking away, pretending to check for a bus that was nowhere near.

Even before I went back to Laguna, I was wishing with all my might not to bump into you. Yes, I am in no position to blame you about how the whole thing between us did not work out.  I was the one who gave up, so what is my problem then?

When you suggested for us to be friends, I was honestly open to the idea. So maybe I was jealous, when I found out that you found someone else, that Christmas morning I was about to suggest for us to start things over. So maybe I was bitter like hell out of regret. But I thought myself better than that and agreed for us to be friends.

Yes, friends ask about how each other was every now and then. Friends too, ask favors out of the blue. You know very well how nice I am to my friends and how generous I am in terms of favors. What I cannot comprehend was that after segue of how are you’s and I hope you’re doing fine’s, you ask for a little favor. It happened twice, and it was nothing to me. I genuinely wanted to help. But why the need of suddenly shutting down our connection after that? I do not want to think that you did that because you got what you wanted. I would’ve helped you even if was I was murderously mad at you. I was just disappointed that we are not going to be friends; especially it was you who said that you do not want us to end up like the first ex.

But come to think of it now, we have not done any better. At least the other one did not pretend like he cared. I respected him for that.

I am not really sure if I am angry at you or that I am bound to punch you in the face the next time we see each other and the situation permits me to do so.

One thing is for sure: I will stop assessing any kind of feeling I might have towards you – anger, regret, even love. I am pretty sure my other self has taken over. Your presence in my life has been reduced to the one–time encounter with strangers or those batch mates in high school I only knew by name or those who read my blog by chance and I will never know in person.

Then came a bend in the road – you turned left and sped away. No matter how much I was reminded of Lot who was told not to look back or else be a pillar of salt, I was not able to help my self. I looked back and only caught glimpse of the back of your car. That time I was made sure – it was the goodbye without any good.

Of course, you know too that this is only my point of view; that I will make myself look less evil in our short history together. But I like I said, I refuse you to be a part of my life anymore, so I do not care.

After much digression, I went where I was suppose to go. I had a weird but happy dinner/coffee with two friends – whom I am supposed to spend the entire night doing my paper, but went home due to unexpected and highly important circumstances. Now, for midnight snack, I am struggling to finish what I was due tomorrow (or in which case, later).

Thanks for the feast of a lunch – it was high drama enough for theater. Too bad I never had a flair for the spotlight. But before we forget, I meant it when I said: I never want to see you again. I wish you all the best, as these are the last words I am ever going to address to you.

your eyes, your mouth —
waxing and waning crescents,
on the sky that is your face/
on your face that is an entire sky
of the night that comes
in a blink,
in a wink,
in a sleep kept wide awake
when i think.

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