over the love

I needed the shame, I needed the pain. I need to feel nothing for you

someone like you

"There's nothing quite like the feeling when you're listening to a song written by someone you don't know, who you've never met, who some how manages to describe exactly how you felt at a particular moment in your life.

...if you've ever had a broken heart, you're about to remember it now"

Happy Valentine's Day

In the words of Carrie Bradshaw, “Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.”

falling slowly

one of the few things that make me realize how pure and innocent love can truly be.

this is how i am starting my new year

Girls [and guys] are taught a lot of stuff growing up. If a guy punches [someone irritates] you he likes you. Never try to trim your own bangs, and someday you will meet a wonderful guy, and get your very own happy ending. Every movie we see, every story we're told implores us to wait for it, the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule. But sometimes we're so focused on finding our happy ending we don't learn how to read the signs. How to tell from the ones who want us and the ones who don't, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave. And maybe a happy ending doesn't include a guy, maybe... it's you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is... just... moving on. Or maybe the happy ending is this, knowing after all the unreturned phone calls, broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment you never gave up hope. (Gigi, He's Just Not Into You)

love-hate relationship with our moms

while i was taking a break from my thesis, i came across this interesting take on our relationship with our mother. ever since i was born, my mother has always been there by my side. i guess i'm really lucky that my mom has dedicated herself to me and my brother -- making sure that we get whatever we need and want in life. however, there were also many instances in the past where i hated her for not understanding me. but amidst this imperfect relationship i have with her, she would always be one of the people i'd wish to be by my side forever.

at 3 yrs old: "Ma, I love you"
at 10 yrs old: "Mom whatever!"
at 16 yrs old: "OMG! My Mom is so annoying!"
at 18 yrs old: "I wanna leave this house."
at 25 yrs old: "Mom, you were right."
.........at 30 yrs old: "I want to go back to my Mom's house."
at 50 yrs old: "I don't wanna lose my Mom."
at 70 yrs old: "I would give up anything for my Mom to be here."

i am alone

when loneliness suddenly creeped in, i couldn't help but remember william wordsworth's "the solitary reaper."

Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.
No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne’er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.
Will no one tell me what she sings?--
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?
Whate’er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o’er the sickle bending;--
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

i guess i am afaird to be alone after all.

(dis)comfort

on my way to school, i always end up seeing children commuting on their own. i am guessing these kids are between eight to ten years old, and are pretty much used to taking the public transport system. they board the bus on their own and even run towards the bus stop just  to make sure they'll be able to catch their bus. anyway, seeing these kids never fail to bring an ironic smile on my face because they remind me of some of the things i greatly missed out when i was their age.

for one i was not allowed to go out on my own, and it's only when i reached the 7th grade when i first experienced taking a cab alone--something my parents didn't even know about. then, i was not allowed by my parents to play outside our house when i was kid. that's why i ended up playing with my nanny and the other maids at home. furthermore, my parents didn't let me try to do things on my own, because they brought me up in an environment where i was surrounded by people who will do things for me.

but who am i to complain? i know some people would say that i am fortunate to have parents who gave and continue to give me things that are beyond my basic needs. however, my sheltered lifestyle also robbed me of so many simple things that would've made me happier as a kid, and at the same time a better person now.

i am not saying that i don't appreciate the way my parents brought me up, because i'm actually thankful that they didn't neglect me when i was a kid. all am saying, i guess, is that it would have been better if my parents allowed me to experience everything when i was child--even by removing me from comfort zone and letting me appreciate the simple things in life--because this so-called transition to being independent would have been easier if only my parents did such deeds.

repost: misstep

one of the posts i was able to save from my previous blog...

i've dug myself a hole and hidden myself from most of my friends. that is why, for the past few months, i've only shown myself to a handful of people. and because of my sudden disappearance, those who had the chance to see me asked for an answer to my sudden elusiveness towards people: "why don't you want to see some of your friends? have you become an anti-social? are you mad at them? what's wrong with you?" well, the only answer i gave them was: "i think i'm having some kind of a withdrawal syndrome."

i think most of the people who heard my answer didn't understand what i meant by "withdrawal syndrome." my close friend in nyc thought i was referring to homesickness, while a friend in manila thought it's just one of my so-called 'postmodern attitudes'. most of them interpreted the term as a  usual vicissitude that you get from transferring from one place to another, and it's actually quite sad that none understood me at all. none of them realized that singapore has made me see change the way i see my life; that i've finally gone beyond mundanity.

i've been living a life in constant transit since i was a kid, but never have i had this need to burrow myself away from (most of) my friends. when i went back to manila from irvine, never did it occur to me to keep myself away from my childhood friends. then, when i went to nyc for 9th grade, i was actually eager to see my friends in irvine again. that's why i flew there twice that year just to see my friends again. but now, i just do not sense that need to see my friends here again. in fact, i want to be away from most of them. i want to be clear, however, that it's not because i don't want to be friends with them anymore, nor do i want to live an isolated life. rather, i'm just tired of performing that shallow identity that i need to act out whenever i'm with (most of) my friends.

in uni, i got acquainted with judith butler. i learned that gender is something that we perform... even our very own sexuality. so being male is not really congenital, but rather it's reified and solidified by constantly performing what it is to be male. this notion of performance that creates our sexuality, i believe, can also be applied to our other identities. however, the scariest part is that these performances are regulated by several social institutions such as schools, goverment policies, and even our social circles. we always have to perform based on what is expected from that identity, or else we'd end up subverting it -- worse, considered as abnormal for betraying the routines that we're expected to follow.

going back to manila and nyc (even for just a while) meant performing the very identities i have in those places. i needed to go back to my old self because i already have a well-established name there. my name entails a specific script, routines, blocking, and even rhythm that i always need to follow in order to still be me. this means that i need to experience the lifestyle that suits the plot of my already-expected performance; and if i decide not to use those routines, then people would think i've gone mad or something. worse, i'll be reprimanded and ridiculed by the very social institutions that are supposed to ensure i won't end up subverting the so-called 'accepted' identity i have.

however, i don't want to see myself doing those steps and lines anymore. my singapore experience has allowed me to realize how empty those performances in my so-called familar places are. the need to perform based on your social status, class, and even race has been challenged and even repudiated by the beauty of performing a life in anonymity. and i guess that's the reason why i've been in hiding since i decided to settle down in singapore. as what my friend told me: "you're trying to boycot the need to perform by not seeing most of your friends;" and i think she's right. i am probably doing my own silent protest against the need to perform based on what is expected from you.

am i going crazy? is my protest justified at all? i really don't know, however, i'm sensing that postructuralism is slowly creeping in once again. yes, this, i think, is my cheap attempt at deconstruction.

i usually hate poetry except for some cases like this...

of love and other demons

i worry that i am stretching myself too thinly, and yet it's my own desires that put me in such a difficult situation. funny as it may sound, but the very dreams i have for myself have become the bane of my existence. i am now forced to do my phd applications as i finish my thesis at the same time. moreover, i am compelled to leave my new found friends as what i did to my long-time comrads when i embarked on this quest for higher learning. then, i am required to make a vow of poverty as i start to adjust to the low-paying profession of teaching.

i wonder if it's the same for other people. are our dreams the same as our nightmares?

after a month of break up stories

breakups. they say it's probably one of the hardest things a person has to face in life. in that very instance, two parties come to a parting of the ways, and there's usually no turning back. some lucky couples reach this point of separation with mutual understanding, while in other cases, couples are somehow forced to go on with different lives. but no matter how people would decide to call it quits, all the promises made to each other, and all the hopes and wishes woven together as a couple, will all just be thrown in the abyss of broken dreams. as what those people, who have gone through the hardships of breaking up with their partners, would say, it's like a part of me has died. so if quitting from a relationship is painful and difficult, then why do some people choose this decision anyway? don't we all want a happily-ever-after?

and on a similar note, when do we know that it's over?