I like it when people who have made names for themselves doing what they love are still humble enough to randomly reach out across the globe and make friends with random nobodies like me. Big ups to Mister Doze Green, who lives in New York and paints lovely things on walls. I’m still a little starstruck by you but I find it incredibly awesome that you found something interesting enough in me to want to make friends.

On the flipside, I do not like people who fancy themselves famous and use said fame to lure some hapless girl into their pants. Maybe if he’d gotten to me three years ago when I was desperate and emotionally insane he would’ve succeeded in making it with me.

*

I’ve been in a cast for almost two months, now. I honestly cannot wait until it comes off. At least fractures heal in time, and hopefully by the end of this year I’ll be able to start working out again.
I’ve pretty much come to terms with the fact that I’m full of scars and imperfections. Hell, sometimes I relapse. I feel self-pity creeping in now, in fact. But I keep on reminding myself that all of this.. well. It happened for a reason. What that reason is may not exactly be clear to me yet, but I trust that this will all make sense to me in time.

*

On the topic of random, unexplainable occurrences, we’re moving back to our old village. For how long, I don’t know. My family has always been nomadic, and supposedly are slated to follow my dad to the states in four years or so. I’m still staying here, though. Apparently it takes eleven years for a petition of a non-minor to come through. I’d like to think that in eleven years, I’ll have made something of myself. By this, I mean living away from home, financially independent and settled down.

I hate that everything has to have an expiration date. Why can’t things just be awesome forever? Seriously.

*

Lastly, I am coming to grips with the fact that somehow, I will always give a shit about what happens to my exes. Whether or not I’m happy for them, or angry at the stupid things they do, the fact that I show emotion at all proves I still care.

Just because it sounds better in Tagalog, may pinagsamahan kami e.

I sometimes wish I didn’t care, but I was never the type to let go of love that fast.

*

April’s been treating me well… I just get lonely sometimes.

“Do I really have a fearsome temper?”

“Uh, YEAH,” Anja said as she matter-of-factly bit into her ice cream sandwich. Sheepishly, I bit into my own ice cream bar as if it would make Nadine come back from her mission to find a smoke. She arrived back with a cigarette, doing a happy little spastic dance and proceeded to light it. I repeated the question.

“Oo kaya. Si Anja na ang nagsabi nun ha.“

“Alright. That’s weird. I always thought that I was hard to read, really.”

The two of them shot me incredulous looks and began to laugh. Then their laughter escalated into cackling. After awhile I joined in, laughing at myself, and the fact that the way I saw myself was ridiculously different from the way my friends did. Standing there outside the Korean grocery in Ortigas, we probably looked like right fools, but it didn’t matter.

“You always say the most provocative things when you’re raging mad!” Anja gesticulated with her hands to emphasize her point.

“See it as a positive thing, Tim. Some people would kill to be able to express their emotions the way you do.”

I nodded, avoiding Nadine’s gaze and bit into my ice cream bar, reveling in the last remnants of its creamy, chocolate-covered strawberry goodness. She then stubbed her cigarette out with her purple-sneakered foot and the three of us walked back to the car, our bellies aching from the laughter and the amount of Korean food we had for dinner.

We proceeded to talk about torpedoes, what we would do if we were men for a day and what would have happened if we crashed the car on the way back to my house.

Having a short fuse, mouthing off mountains of cheap shots and being unable to mask my anger as well as others can is probably what makes me seem ‘intimidating’ to people who don’t know me very well. I guess I just chose not to believe it because in truth I’m more patient than I am quarrelsome… at least I’d like to think so. I AM trying to remedy this, because sometimes the effort it takes to be hostile hardly seems worth it anymore.

In any case, I thank the Powers that Be for giving me some of the coolest friends ever, by virtue of their being able to call me out on my shit whenever necessary.

I suppose I should begin by saying that this year started on the wrong foot (literally).

I broke my ankle on February 20th (HBD KRDT CBN), exactly one week before my birthday. This drunk saxophonist I know said that every year, someone gets injured on Cobain’s birthday… or perhaps he was just babbling.

I guess something crazy had to happen before I turned 23, and sure enough, it did.

This broken ankle business is teaching me to be patient. It feels like a religious experience, to tell you the truth. It clearly showed me the things I could and couldn’t do, and to make do with what I have right now.

Of course, I still wish that I could just hop on a board and skate downhill, or walk freely wherever my feet take me. These things are going to happen again, of course. I just have to learn to use my time more wisely at this moment.

Being cooped up at home way too much incites some dangerous cabin fever. It makes you want to go out and look for trouble. Brother, did it find me. It also served to remind me that I need to filter people out when they get too close for comfort; I just need to learn to do it with more finesse and a little bit less sloppiness when I sever the unnecessary ties. There are people in life who are keepers, and the ones that are transitory are just that – temporary souls who cross paths with me, and after all has been said and done, they leave.

I hate cutting people out of my life, but honest to God, sometimes it HAS to be done.

…I should also learn to curb my bitchy impulses.

My best friend told me all of these things happen for a reason. I’m pretty deadset on finding out what they are, but I know that I will… all in due time.

——————

Things/People I am grateful for at this very moment:

My best girlfriend. She’s one of the few people who transcends the musical prerequisite that comes with most of my friendships. We can talk and talk for hours and not get bored; she fills in the space with the logic my emotionally-charged brain can’t comprehend. She is always there for me when I need her, and when I’ve given in to spiteful/angry/nasty mood swings, she still hasn’t given up on me… which quite a few people already have. Even if she’s a bit retarded when it comes to expressions of undying love, she’s still the mac to my cheese, the pepper to my salt, the Milli to my Vanilli.

My best guy friend. Without him, my musical sensibilities would be significantly less interesting. He is my calming apple; I’d be a little bit more bratty and psychotic without his ineffable cool, calm and demented attitude, and that sometimes infuriating Taurean tactlessness I have learned to love. It is also because of this guy that I got home safely tonight when my car broke down at the club, and when a James Taylor song came on the radio, he put the volume up for me to hum along. Plus, he’s a mechanic. HOW FUCKING DOPE IS THAT.

Wila8aliw. Queso. Kabute. Duelist. Nyko Maca + Playground. Music for the soul.

A shirt I bought from a graffiti artist with the last of my money, that smelled faintly of Ivory soap.

This wall. It was painted while my ankle was being operated on. One of the coolest birthday presents, ever.

A baggie filled with stickers made by a few drunk friends, a few bandages and a typewritten letter from my non-imaginary friend, Nardo.

…I could honestly go on some more, because the more that I think about it, I still have a shitload of things to be thankful for, and just knowing that is already wonderful.

With that, I should probably be getting to sleep.

I should have been able to tell that things were going downhill when you turned to your side of the bed (well, it wasn’t really a bed. just a mattress on the floor). Perhaps it was the beginning of denial. Somehow our bodies decided they could no longer connect, as if the dots on the coloring book decided to move far away from each other; they didn’t want to form a pretty picture anymore.

Like magnets, we always found a way to each other. We attracted one another, or perhaps only I was the one attracted to you.

I make out the shape of the back of your head, and the ridges of your rib cage as it rises and falls with each breath that rushes past your lips. It is as if the very act of breathing is a laborious one to you. Irrespective of the intimacy that took place right before, a palpable tension has found its way into the space between our bodies and makes its godawful presence felt: a cold brick wall robbing us of all warmth and closeness. I turn towards my side of the bed. The splash of color from my bookshelf assaults my eyes.

We are like magnets, still. Yet now we are magnets giving off the same negative energy, on opposite sides of the bed.

The love, the anger, the denial, and all the emotions that come rushing freely out of the bottle of a bad relationship have all runneth over now. Hearing the Pixies or Temple of the Dog songs is no longer a deadening experience.

This is a memory that has happened forever ago, and yet it comes to mind with a clarity that is as striking as if it had happened yesterday.

We are like magnets, you and I.
Like magnets, we repel.
Like magnets.
It is the opposites that are supposed to attract.

In time, the heart forgives, but the bones never forget.

He had a lot to say.
He had a lot of nothing to say.
We’ll miss him.
We’re gonna miss him.

So long.
We wish you well.
You told us how you weren’t afraid to die.
Well then, so long.
Don’t cry,
or feel too down.
Not all martyrs see divinity,
but at least you tried.

Standing above the crowd,
He had a voice that was strong and loud.
We’ll miss him.
Ranting and pointing his finger
At everything but his heart.
We’ll miss him.
We’re gonna miss him.

No way to recall
what it was that you had said to me,
like I care at all.

But it was so loud.
You sure could yell.
You took a stand on every little thing,
And so loud.

Standing above the crowd,
He had a voice so strong and loud and I
Swallowed his facade ‘cuz I’m so
eager to identify with
Someone above the ground,
Someone who seemed to feel the same,
Someone prepared to lead the way,
with someone who would die for me.

Will you?
Will you now?
Would you die for me?
Don’t you fuckin’ lie.

Don’t you step out of line.
Don’t you fuckin’ lie.

You’ve claimed all this time that you would die for me.
Why then are you so surprised when you hear your own eulogy?

You had a lot to say.
You had a lot of nothing to say.

Come down.
Get off your fuckin’ cross.
We need the fuckin’ space to nail the next fool martyr.

To ascend you must die.
You must be crucified
For your sins and your lies.
Goodbye.

- Eulogy; Tool.

December is actually going by without much of a hitch. There are so many things to look forward to and so many parties to attend that it’s hard to be a hermit.

One of my new year’s resolutions is to be more sociable and actually live my life instead of sitting on my ass at home, trying to understand it.

started off on a lousy note. Please make it get better.

These past few weeks have been full of good things. Whether they come in the form of friends who ask you to come out and play because they know you never go out anymore, gifts hidden surreptitiously between book pages, new ideas that pave the way for opportunities, or even simply staying in to read the books you love, one can’t help but acknowledge that there are greater forces at work and they are continuing to do so for the better.

I’ve never been an optimistic person, but after going on self-imposed hibernation for God knows how long, I realized that having something to believe in makes life run a lot more smoothly. Some people never even come close to finding faith (I’ve always hated this word. I liken my relationship with it to my relationship with the family members I don’t like: the very thought of their existence makes me cringe, but they’re there whether I like it or not). I suppose I’m lucky to have found an anchor for my wayward thoughts. I’m still trying to find out my purpose, my direction… but I would like to think that my compass isn’t broken.

So today’s Thanksgiving day, and as is customary, we all have to enumerate the things we are thankful for.

I’m thankful for the friends I don’t see everyday, because they still look out for me and are always there for me, waiting until I come out of hibernation. I’m thankful for my dad, who is coming home in time for Christmas. I’m thankful for Lucy, who lent me Eat, Pray, Love, and has proclaimed herself the limpet to my rock. I’m thankful for Ankie, because she is one of those friends I could spend hours and hours talking to and never get bored. I’m thankful for Marla who is always, always there for me. I’m thankful for my older sister, who is traipsing around Milan as we speak. She rams common sense into my head and teaches me to be brave. I’m thankful for my younger sisters, who are turning out to be amazing young ladies. I’m thankful for my mom, who seems happier these days, because dad’s coming home.

I’m thankful for empty streets to skate on at night. I’m thankful for people who tell me they miss me, even when they aren’t obliged to. I’m thankful for the perfume my sister gave me that smells like sugarcoated lemons and warm, freshly-bathed skin. I’m thankful for good food. I’m thankful for opportunities to travel. I’m thankful for people who open up to me; I guess I look like someone they can trust. I’m always thankful for new experiences.

I love you, I accept you. Thank you, Universe.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.

I know that sounds selfish, but you have to look at what it’s doing to you personally – are you frustrated because of the way people perceive you, or are you happy enough about the things you’ve realized about yourself that you can tolerate the way people perceive you?

If we live to a hundred, we must confess EVERYTHING before we die.

- Billy Boy.

Last night, Jason made me, Marla and Anna listen to Erykah Badu’s “Bag Lady”

and I realized,

I don’t want my bags to get in the way anymore.

I’m tempted to delete every single networking site I own

disappear for awhile

come back a different person

maybe with no hair, a couple new tattoos

I don’t know.

All I know is that I have to get rid of a lot of things right now.