Almost Grasped, But Not Quite

To become a wedding planner. That is a dream. My dream.

But it wasn’t the practical dream and so I managed to coax myself into doing other things but sometimes, I get this kick out of watching weddings and going over lots of wedding magazines and photos. I love weddings. And the only way that I would become a part of it, apart from being on the entourage, is to become a wedding planner.

A friend one day texted me, “Ja, are you getting married soon?” I was appalled. Aside from the fact that this was her first text for several months, this is one question a real friend would not ask me now. I replied, “What the heck? What kind of question is that?!” Her reply, “I just thought that I want you to become my wedding planner.” And what, me getting married before you wouldn’t make me a wedding planner? I found the premise weird. Nevertheless, my childhood dream began its slow ascent to my throat. It’s choking me, wanting to get out.

I bitterly swallowed.

I wanted to do it for my friends. I want to be their wedding planner. I really, really want to be their wedding planner. As in. But fate didn’t let me do that job when the first wedding in my circle of friends happened. And also on the second. Distance killed the dream.

Anyway, another friend brought up the idea today. She wanted to have another wedding and she wants me to be her planner. (She’s married but she wants another wedding wherein many of their friends and family can attend.) She slated it three years from now. Too long, you ask? Well not really especially when I need to save up for my airfare. The wedding’s to be held in Hawaii. I’m already excited. I’m making sure distance wouldn’t be a nuisance.

Hey, if you’re thinking of getting married any time soon, will you consider me to be your wedding planner? Please?

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Patience is indeed a virtue, and it’s something I don’t have right now. I just threw it in the bathroom sink when I heard the call. Darn it! This journey is getting more frustrating by the minute. The wait seems endless and I’m left thinking, “Where does one draw the line between calmly waiting for something to happen and grabbing it to make it happen?" It’s easier to choose the latter for me because I firmly believe of taking responsibility for my own action rather than blaming others for their inaction.

But what if it’s just isn’t in my hands anymore? That no matter how hard I think about it, I can’t do anything but wait and pray and wait some more. My patience is running dry. My virtue is thirsty. Someone please quench it.

“What is it in you that make you different from other gays?”

This was asked on a recent Ms. Gay pageant I watched. For a few years now, I haven’t attended any event with regards to our barangay. When I went to Manila for college and work, I ceased going to barangay fiestas because they don’t interest me that much anymore. Unlike when I was younger when I had to drag our family friend to watch basketball games, SK nights, and barangay dances at the small auditorium located a few meters away from our house.

I don’t know what changed one April day when I insisted on being involved again. I wanted to watch the night activities lined up for our barangay fiesta. (I didn’t know we were celebrating it this month at first.) I was thinking I had the time anyway so why not do something with it? And so I watched the Ms. Gay pageant with my sister and cousin (both in vacation from school).

The gays are gorgeous. They would make any woman envious of their flawless skin, sexy body, and beautiful faces. But I didn’t feel anything. Somehow, seeing all eyes were on them that night, gave me the feeling that they deserve this limelight, even for just one night. Some of them, I know, are still living in the dark. This is the only chance they got. I was right with the “living in the dark” part when one contestant answered the question above with,

“I am proud to be here. My students in Manila (s/he is a clinical instructor at a prominent Nursing school) don’t know that I am like this. They see me as their manly professor. I need to act that part because they need to respect me. If they see me like this, do you think they’ll respect me? No. And so I am different from the rest because I’ve been through a lot but I’m still proud of who I am.”

I thought, No, you’re not proud of who you are. Because if you are proud of who you are, you wouldn’t stand in front of your students disguising yourself as the “manly professor” to deserve respect. If you’re proud of who you are, you can stand in front of them as the person you truly are and still command that same respect.

I asked my sister if ever she would be given a chance, what question she would ask these contestants. She thought for a while and then said, “What do you think is the role of gays in this community?” Hmn, if I was on the contestants’ shoes and asked that question, I would have replied (with eyebrows raised), “Are you asking me what the role of people are in this community?”

Go ponder.

The Hundredth Mark.

This online writing wouldn’t stop for me would it? I just can’t control myself. Ideas pop in my head and the next thing I know, my head is working overtime into thinking how I can say things anonymously and nicely especially when I’m ranting. Like how can I name someone without naming him? When I say “jerk” that means a lot of people for some but for me, I’m only zeroing on on one guy. Oh well, whatever. I’m sure someone out there can relate to me.

Anyway, as I said on the entry before this, I just reached the hundredth mark on my entries. Cool. What else is there for me to write? I think I’ve already written enough rants to last me a lifetime. Nah, who am I kidding? Well, this blog’s primary reason is unknown. I couldn’t remember. Haha! I think I was just curious on this new feature of Friendster. And having lots of online home, I thought another one would make me own a neighborhood of empty houses.

This blog has been nostalgic most of the time. Sometimes, it’s ranting. Other times it’s story-telling. All the time, it’s remembering. I LOVE IT. I’m keeping it.

Over Sips of Pepsi, Over Time.

I met up with a best friend one day. We were catching up on each other’s lives because we haven’t seen each other for quite a long time now. While I’m definitely happy to see her, I still feel a pang of loneliness when I came face to face with her. It feels like I’m still missing her even though I’m already seeing her live, in person. There was this empty feeling brought about by those years we spent 250 kilometers apart. I lost track of her life and she with mine. Maybe it wasn’t just her that I’m missing. Maybe I’m missing friends and the feelings they brought me when we were still in high school. We’ve so grown up. Time didn’t stand still for us. And it’s good. Really good.

While sipping our glasses of Pepsi, we can’t help but enumerate batch mates whom we’ve encountered for the past months or so. I couldn’t mention one because I haven’t been home in the province that long enough to encounter anyone. Honestly, I overlooked that part of my life, the keeping in touch part. That’s where I am disappointed. I liked being in touch with friends and acquaintances but my perspective changed over the past years. If they don’t make an effort to keep in touch with me, then never mind. We all have our lives to live. I guess that was their mantra also. So I did understand the busy-ness of their lives. We couldn’t help but grow up and grow old.

Rain On a Summer Day.

It finally rained today. Don’t you just love it? This summer has been one of the hottest so far. The heat has been fine for the first few days of summer 2008 but it got unbearable during the first week of April. It makes me cranky during the afternoon, especially when the heat enters the skin and makes me look really sun-burnt even if I wasn’t lounging on the beach. Argh.

The first storm has hit the Philippines and by the time I’m posting this, it’s probably raining torrents in Visayas and Mindanao already. Here where I’m at, it’s just drizzling, which is really fine because it’s been a little bit colder. And the air is filled with an earthy aroma I’ve never smelled for quite some time. Now, it’s tickling my nose again.

I wish it’ll drizzle more but I’m wishing summer wouldn’t be over yet.

But I know my summer will only be starting next week. Hopefully.

Oh look! This is my 100th entry in this blog! I never thought I’d make it this far on this blog. Reading through my past entries, I reminisce, laugh, and cry. I love having this blog. I hope you read through my thoughts and share with me yours in the coming days.

I’ll be celebrating my 100th entry on my next one. Yey! But first, here’s an entry on opposites.

Arrogance.

You know sometimes, I just want to slam my fist into someone who is so insensitive, so full of himself, and so arrogant that he literally pushes people away. But maybe, that’s what he wants to do. Push people away and then marvel at the idea that he didn’t because it’s the other people’s fault. They’re the ones who can’t understand, the ones who don’t care, and the ones who are inconsiderate. How can this freak live in this world is a big question mark. Maybe his arrogance keeps him alive, that’s the battery in this kind of robot.

But of course, I wouldn’t want to slam my fist into someone. I’m too nice for that kind of violence. And besides, there’s nothing much to wreck in his face anyway. So, I don’t think I can put much damage. Sayang lang ang effort.

I grew up hating a grade school friend because of his arrogance. I’ve never met someone so full of himself he was making me sick the entire time he was in the same room with me. Thank god, we rarely became classmates in high school. And we rarely crossed paths after that. I’m sure he’s still out there somewhere, making other people sick. Agh.

Shyness.

A go-getter girl friend was wondering what personality does a “provinciano” has. Well, they’re certainly different from her – a street-smart urbanista. Now, I’m not saying I’m an expert on who a provinciano is but having lived most of my life in the province, I have a sort of staple definition for most of them. SHY. Period. There’s nothing more I can say because they’re the ones who don’t say much. I guess that definition pretty much sums up the guys who were born and who grew up in the province.

Don’t expect them to come up to you and say hi or introduce their self. You’ll be waiting a hundred years for that to happen. Expect them to nudge someone to get your name or number. And they do their moves on the cellular phone. So yes, they are not that backward when it comes to technology. I think they’re the ones who benefit the most in using cellular phones. It’s their way of making friends and girlfriends. Haha. Well, correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t think I am.

I’m not saying every guy who grows up in the province is like that but generally, they are. I have a friend who I thought was confident enough on his own because he is popular that he wouldn’t resort to texting as his way of courtship. (What?! And you think there’s still harana nowadays?!) But he uses it. Oh, and emails and ym too. See? That’s shyness in a normal provinciano way.

But that’s not to say they’re not also arrogant. Shyness is different from modesty. Sometimes, they can be very proud especially in their text messages. They assume you already like them when you answer their queries. They make pa-cute. Ugh. You just have to know when to cut them off. Shucks, am I talking from experience here? Wahaha. Not really. Or maybe. Whatever.

There’s nothing wrong with being shy and making the moves through tech. But if you’re someone like my good girl friend, everything will be wrong with it. I’m inclined to say “give the provinciano a break” but I won’t because I know her. She’ll kill someone who’ll make kulit by texting her every minute of the day. Hey you, that’s not her type. But come to think of it, she was linked to a provinciano din naman before. But that’s different; she likes him from the start. Wahahaha!

(I’ll probably get killed for this entry. Hehe.)

To all shy people (including myself), remember this: If you want something, you need to look the other person in the eye.(from the entry below…)

Moonriver.

I don’t know why but the song Moon River always calm my nerves, cradling me softly in a world that is mine mainly because it’s my imagination that’s working when the song starts humming in my ears. I get transported into different worlds, scenarios, memories. Sometimes, I just see myself in the middle of a ballroom being gently swayed to the tune.

Two drifters off to see the world. How I wish I’m one of those drifters. Oh, how can I forget? I am a drifter, but not the drifter who’s off to see the world. Just a drifter.

Like the Flowing River.

I’ve been reading Paulo Coelho’s Like the Flowing River. It’s the first Coelho book I owned. Read his early works The Alchemist, Veronika Decides To Die and By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept through borrowed books. I have yet to catch up on all his other titles. For now, I am contented with his random thoughts and reflections.

Let me share with you some of his passages from the book which caught my attention. Maybe because I can relate to them or there are people who reminds me about them or I just love what he wrote about (and loved the fact that he wrote them for me to know that someone shares my views). Most of them are self-explanatory.

Once we have chosen our road, may we never look back nor allow our soul to be eaten away by remorse.

Sometimes, the world asks us to fight for things we do not understand, and whose significance we will never discover.

If you want something, you need to look the other person in the eye.

Worse than hunger or thirst, worse than being unemployed, unhappy in love or defeated and in despair, far worse than any or all of those things, is the feeling that no one, absolutely no one cares about us.

It is only courage on the path itself that makes the path appear.

Follow your own rhythm.

Go off in search of your own immense potential.

Love creates bridges when it would seem they were impossible.

And my fave of all:
Keep praying. Keep on, even if all seems in vain.

Lately, I’ve been giving in to some of life’s frustrations. What’s funny is that I’m frustrating over things and people that aren’t even. This goes a long, long way back. Actually, I’ve just been thinking about 15 years worth of frustrations (I just didn’t know they will turn into frustrations someday; someday meaning today).

I guess this is the penance I have to pay for not venting out anger and hatred in a loud way when the situation is at hand. I’m the type of person who just cries alone when frustrated. I couldn’t even describe the feeling of crying alone and trying so hard to restrain shouting, banging the walls and throwing things. But let me try.

My head throbs with a pain that is coming from, well, numbness (which is weird because you can’t feeling anything when you’re numb). My head is floating in mid-air that I couldn’t feel it. Lots of thought bubbles are floating with it. Sometimes lingering long enough to swirl a couple of times, sometimes bursting immediately. My heart is pounding like crazy, it might burst any minute. There’s a strong urge to shout and howl like a maniac but I always try to shout (or do the gesture of shouting) without any sound. It’s like yelling on a raging storm where you can’t hear yourself. Only this time, you’re really not making any sound and the storm is not outside but inside. There’s the endless streaming of tears that I keep on brushing off my cheeks, as if I can still return them to my ducts and hide them from myself. And then I have an epiphany that I need to trash my room but it’s trashy enough so I restrain myself again because the room can’t get any worse that it already is. So technically, there’s a lot of restraining going on when I cry.

I cry alone because I don’t want to burden other people. They are already burdened with their own life’s frustrations. Come to think of it, I think haven’t cried in front of my friends about anything “personal”. At least nothing that I can remember of. I rant, yes. But who doesn’t? I don’t cry when I rant. I just story-tell. Or maybe, I just don’t want them to do the restraining because that means I am no longer in control of myself and that I already need other people to control me.

I just hate it when I become needy. Of course I am open to the fact that I need other people. But as long as I can, or rather think I can, still handle things, I wouldn’t ask for anything from other people. I’ve been their shoulder to cry on, their strength, their helping hand. If their strength shows a weakness, how can I become their strength? I don’t want to fail them.

That’s my weakness. I can’t say no, I can’t let other people down, I can’t cry in front of them. Just couldn’t or wouldn’t. But everyone needs someone, right? “Once in a while, it’s okay to need someone.” So yeah, rescue me.

Someone please rescue me.

Rescue me from myself. How?

Okay, never mind.