Lakas maka-wallflower ng buhay ko ngayon, tangina. Pakiramdam ko lagi akong nakakalimutan ng mga tao—yun bang mapapansin ka lang pag may kulang ka, or may ginawa kang mali. O kaya kung kausapin ka, wala nang ibang lumabas sa mga bibig kundi tungkol sa mga sarili nila. Ayaw na ayaw kong nararamdaman na balewala yung mga sinasabi ko, kasi hindi ako nag-aral sa UP para balahurain ng ganun. Namimiss ko nang makipag-usap sa mga taong nakikinig, nakakaintindi, at nagpapasensya sa’kin. Namimiss ko na yung mga panahong hindi ako ginagawang pader na pinagdadausan ng pataasang-ihi.
and now you spend your evenings
searching for another life
— King Krule, “Easy Easy”
Let’s begin with the big rocks.
I now have a full-time job as a call center agent. I flunked out of school, like I feared would finally happen a few months ago. There is now a baby in the house, though it is not mine. There are also other people in the house; the total headcount comes to 13. The house right now is a very crowded place. I am pitching in to buy a new TV that I don’t think we should get, but we will be getting anyway. My sister currently has chicken pox. I am currently sick with a viral infection, and am on a five-day sick leave. I feel like I’ve already forgotten how to do my job. As early as now, actually, I already want out. I have taken up smoking as a daily habit, except on weekdays. I smoke ice menthols. My hair is now back to plain old black. Oh, and I am still a single virgin.
Okay. Now. Pebbles.
I have long nails now. It’s very hard to maintain them. I scrub myself with lemons when I bathe. I tie back what I can of my hair and I pin the rest back with a zoo of hairclips. I own dresses and heels now, and I wear them quite often to work. I have a canister of candies for when I feel like shit, and nowadays I notice my teeth always hurt because I grab a couple of caramels every few minutes (and doesn’t that say a lot about how I feel at any given moment in time). I eat a single chocolate for breakfast every morning. My officemate picks me up every morning on the way to work. He’s a very nice person. I hang out with exactly two people outside of my work circle. Within my work circle, I hang out with exactly two people as well (not the same people as the ones outside, of course.) I just cleaned my room today. I also wrote a bit.
In case you’re wondering what the substance of this post is, I am not going to lie to you: there isn’t any. It’s another one of those life updates I used to be so fond of, back when I had the time to just sit around in my bed and talk about things endlessly to a nonexisting audience. Life updates which are just that: updates on my life, the goings-on, what-have-yous. No deep existential shit whatsoever. Besides, I haven’t been doing much thinking lately, anyway. Currently I have a lot going on in my mind (because of some ill developments in certain situations, and my own sour-graper ego), but hell I am tired of complaining; I wanna shut up about the bitchiness of life for once. I don’t want to be angry about anything right now; I just want to talk, to get shit off of my chest without having to be responsible for consequences talking out loud might have in the real world. So here I am, in my old comfort place. This is how my own room felt like when I came home from Baguio with the knowledge that I wasn’t going back. Smells a bit different, but not much has changed.
I missed this place. I missed it so very, very much.
Oh, and would you look at that. Almost exactly a year since my last post. Happy new year, my dear.
Hello, my universe. It’s good to be back, even for a little while.
I slept in my underwear the whole day. I suppose there is no good reason for me to have to mention that, but I guess I just thought it would make me look good in retrospect, or make the situation more romantic (because y’know, people in the movies do that all the time). However, I do believe that when people like me—i.e. people who are usually self-conscious to the point of paranoia even in isolation—sleep in their underwear instead of the usual comfortable and sensible clothes, something probably went wrong somewhere.
I feel like I fell down some stairs and broke my back at some point in the day, but forgot. I’ve been sleeping on and off for almost 9 hours now, in 3-hour intervals, after having stayed up speaking to my friend and to myself the whole night. I haven’t drank or eaten anything since the night before, but when I got here—home—this morning all I wanted to do each time I slept and then woke up was sleep some more. I’m not even sure if I wanted to do that or if if it was only a biological need to do my body justice. I didn’t feel any kind of actual stomach-wrenching hunger, only the slight nagging thought of my food going to waste if I don’t eat it some time soon. I wasn’t thirsty; I only found that out when I brought my water bottle to my lips in the hopes of finding something I really wanted at that moment.
Longing and craving for something has long since been my jam. It’s my thing. I can’t go a day without it, as neither can any other self-loathing bastard full of insecurity raised in a community where ugliness isn’t optional but is still frowned upon anyway, like it was your fault. I always have to want something; it’s my way of feeling alive, because “to want is to be human,” to completely alter an old cliché. And so, this disorienting feeling of not wanting to do anything—and not wanting anything—with furious fervor is somehow another novel way in which I can die each day.
And I am tired of dying anew everyday, without even feeling alive in the first place.
I am not cute I am not friendly I don’t have an org I don’t have a church I don’t believe in anyone I don’t believe in anything & my life is full of no’s & don’ts & not’s & nothings
But unfortunately I feel things
And unfortunately this is all I have in my life to feel about
Can you imagine what it’s like?
Ayoko nang bumalik ng Baguio. Ayoko nang makita ulit ang UPB ng siguro dalawang taon. Ayoko nang makakita ng mga mukha na kailangan kong ngitian at kausapin ng ilang oras. Ayoko nang bumiyahe ng madaling araw para makaabot sa isang klase kung saan makikipagkwentuhan lang sa’yo ang prof. Ayoko nang maghilamos ng malamig na tubig. Ayoko nang tumunganga ng ilang oras sa kwarto, iniisip kung paano ba nangyaring natambakan ako ng gagawin at naubusan ako ng utak (at pera). Ayoko nang gumising ng maaga para lang mawalan ng gana pumasok sa loob ng ilang minuto. Ayoko nang kabahan sa pagdilat kada umaga.
Ayoko nang magpanggap na gusto ko pa ang buhay kahit paulit-ulit lang ang lahat.
Post bilang pag-alala sa huling akyat ko pa-Baguio mula Manila ngayong semestre, at sa panahon ng matinding pag-aasam ng pahinga.
I feel like I should get back to this blog more. It’s been difficult not being able to post things when I want to due to the damn internet connection at the boarding house—honestly, I’d have been better off if they cut off the wifi altogether rather than have it sit there like an ugly trinket taunting me with its uselessness—and I had noticed that Facebook was once again becoming my go-to outlet for ideas and interesting finds, though nowhere near my old Facebook addiction. It’s actually a lot healthier now, and my Tumblring has been a good thing too. These social media serve to add to my knowledge because of the info they bring within my reach, plus a little social interaction to strengthen real-world friendships and connections. They’re great, honestly. I just feel that this blog should still be my priority, and that if I have things to say, it really ought to go here and not anywhere else, because this is the designated place for those things. Information gathering is to be done on those sites, and information translation or output is to be placed here supposedly. This site is a little difficult to navigate—especially if you want to make a multimedia post that expresses feelings and states of mind accurately—when the internet connection is so flimsy it can only hold up to about 3 minutes of scrolling before it breaks down completely for the next few days.
My mom saw my cuts the other day. She didn’t yell, or lose her head. Not at all. She sounded more irritated than anything, like she couldn’t believe the sort of immature thing I had done. She did tell me how crazy it is, though, and how I’m not, and that the only one who can make me better is myself, and that I have total control of what my brain does.
This is one of those times when my mom becomes a part of the human populace in general, and is a perfect example of why I don’t like talking to people too much: what they say almost always makes little to no sense to me, and it gets me frustrated.
I don’t think I have told this blog that the reason I became obsessed with skies for a time was you. It’s probably an omen of something good that I have been taking less and less photos of skies—though that’s not to say that I don’t love skies truly, because I do. It’s just that now I know which skies to treasure and which ones to let slip and eventually forget.
My brain is truly determined to cram every single academic requirement I need to finish this sem into the last milliseconds of their deadlines. I don’t know what stimulates this kind of thinking, that I don’t have to hurry even if the deadline’s in a couple of days because I don’t need a lot of time anyway, cramming has always gotten the shit done so there’s no need to panic, my work often turns out good even if it was done in less than a few hours. Excessive overconfidence? A sort of loosely-masked panic paralysis? Last night I remember having said something about needing to definitely get my shit together today, and I swear to god when I said that I was not expecting to say it again today, but here I go: I need to get this thing over and done with tomorrow, because tomorrow’s Monday and there’s seriously no time for me to go on believing that some miracle will happen in the last few seconds before all my deadlines. It’s just not gonna happen. So maybe this time, I’m serious.
I also saw Love In The Time Of Cholera last week, around a few days before watching The Hobbit. I had been reading Villa’s Selected Stories prior, and was so deeply moved by the stories’ restrained romance and depictions of the solitude of humanity that I felt I had to make the feeling last somehow. I remembered that I haven’t finished the movie since the last time I attempted to view it (I fell asleep at some point) so I pressed play and let myself be drowned in it. Unax Ugalde and Giovanna Mezzogiorno were beautiful and perfect, but what really made my heart leap and do backflips and cry in a corner was Javier Bardem and his goddamn eyelashes and RDJ-ish face. The story itself was heartbreakingly beautiful (syempre Gabriel Garcia Marquez ba naman e) and I am not ashamed to say that I laughed and cried my heart out to this movie more than any others I have seen in a while. The images were beautiful, and I didn’t even mind the three hour runtime, because it was worth every second.
Nearly 20 minutes to 1AM and I’m still up rambling. Maybe I should do this for a living.
this place has taken all my self esteem
and everybody is afraid of me
and I can’t make eye contant with anyone I see
this place has taken all my self esteem
and everybody is afraid of me
and I’m afraid to go out in the streets
reminders of my failures everywhere I will be
everybody is afraid of me
and people freak me out
people make me scared
people make me so damn self-aware
and I’m a liar and I am a thief
taking things from those better than me
pathetic little man with some pathetic little dream
I hope you all can forgive me
—“Self Esteem” by Andrew Jackson Jihad