L’s World

{March 2, 2008}   Ennui
Ennui on-WEE, noun: A feeling of weariness and dissatisfaction arising from lack of interest; boredom.

Seven hours. I had seven hours of sleep. It was a short one compared to the other days I slept. Weird thing is, I know I can still sleep because I’m still tired. Why am I so tired after seven hours of sleep?

I didn’t immediately went down to grab some food. I stayed in the room and checked emails and read blogs, essays, news, etc. I also was able to chat with my friends.

CK, one of my friends is having a problem with his girlfriend. He said he thinks his gf is taking her for granted and do not appreciate him. He said that he prepared a 3-day vacation for the two of them; even asked her parents for permission; to him everything was set. Then his gf said, “I won’t be able to login at MTC.” MTC is one of the adult forums we have. I am also a member of this community but I don’t think like CK’s girlfriend. Their relationship started in MTC. It doesn’t have to be MTC-based. It seems that the girl is more interested in MTC than in their time alone together. I advised my friend that he must make a stand. It’s not the first time that he was treated like trash by his gf. I even advised CK that he must not be blind with regards to their relationship. It’s a relationship because there are people involved, participating and working for it. If he is the only one sacrificing and working for the good of their relationship, it’s as good as no relationship. CK decided that he will give the gf one more chance. I just hope he’ll be firm in his decision this time… not be persuaded and blinded. Martyrs are so passe.

Garry, a photographer-friend of mine was also online so we were able to talk a little. He was at his office and will be out in 30 minutes but we still managed to exchange news. He said that there have been a lot of changes that happened since the last time we’ve talked. He already broke up with his 3-year girlfriend – third party. His gf found a new man and chose to be with the other guy. Garry did not asked his gf stay and choose him. He said there was no point. If a girl decides to be with another guy, a man has to let go. After some months, he said, the ex-gf was asking if she and Garry can be together again. She said she was wrong, that she was sorry and realized that she loves Garry more. Garry laughed at his ex-gf. He did not accept her back. I told him that it was a good decision. For me, once a person strays away, even once, that person can stray away again. Garry believes that, too. So now, Garry is without a girlfriend but is dating. I advised him to take his time.

After chatting with my friends, I decided to go down and look for something to eat. I found nothing. There are a lot of food in the fridge but I still have to cook. I decided to eat dingdongs. Then, I decided to cook “menudo.”

My boyfriend came home from work while I was still cooking. I had him go to Walgreens and get some stuff. When he came back, we ate. Then we decided to go out and buy chocolates since it was a day after Valentine’s day and chocolates are on sale. When we arrived at Walmart, there was no chocolate from Valentine’s day on-sale. We decided to check out Walgreens. Everything from Valentine’s (Chocolates) were sold. We decided to buy chocolates which are not on sale because I was craving for chocolates.

When we got home, I took a shower and decided to write. That is what I am doing right now while my boyfriend is taking a shower.

I have done a lot of things today but still I’m bored.  I am feeling ennui.


{March 2, 2008}   Center of the Universe


An ex-boyfriend once told me… “You think you are the center of the universe. You think the world revolves around you. You think it’s always about you. It’s not always about you.”

{March 1, 2008}   Shit Happens

Shit Happens


Sometimes you just want to see things a little differently. Sometimes you want to see stuff that’s not really there. It happens so often that some people make careers out of it, like that guy who wrote “He’s just not that into you.” I haven’t read the book, I just read about him in the Inquirer, and I got the impression that his book was such a hit simply because *hurrah hurrah* here was a man who told it like it is, who would save thousands, nay, millions! of women from making asses out of themselves.But, jeez, I bet every woman’s girl friends tell her the same banana every time she gets duped. Note that I said duped, not “dumped.” One letter makes all the difference. “Dumped” implies the presence of a dumper, and a dumpee; it implies a coordination of both parties, to communicate in some kind of form to relay these feelings. Whereas “duped” just means, hell, for a moment there I kind of thought this was something, but apparently it’s nothing, and hahaha sorry to have wasted everyone’s time…Take, for example, the case of Perry Ellis, this girl I knew from high school. She goes to her high school reunion, ends up drunk in a classmate’s house, makes out with some cute random ex classmate, and hold hands on the way to Jollibee the next day. A week later, she gets drunk again in the same house, and calls up random ex classmate and yells at him on the phone. “Ano ba talaga?!” (of course, the answer, she knew, was nothing), she says, and proceeds to throw up on the newly manicured lawn. Upon waking up sober the next few days, embarrassed and feeling self-righteous (possibly the world’s worst combination), she tries to call ex classmate to no avail. He cancels her calls, doesn’t answer her texts. But here’s the thing: she just wanted to apologize. Granted, the fact that she tried to call him up thrice a day probably didn’t improve her chances of ex classmate wanting a straightening out of stories, but if he’d listened, she probably would just have said sorry.You might say, well, there was no need to apologize; such sordid experiences are best forgotten. True, yes. But random ex classmate was also sort of a friend; they did share birthday greetings and know each other’s love life updates. So she just wanted to make sure everything was cool.So. Both parties were duped there. But hey, guess what, everyone survived. Because everyone knew, the answer to that rabid question, that mind-boggler, “Ano ba talaga?!”, is “Wala lang.”

And take this other story, that of this friend of a friend, who is thrilled with the idea of being brought home after school by this other guy who has a girlfriend. Girlfriend doesn’t know because she goes to a different school, and the guy doesn’t mind because both he and the girl live in the same area. The guy is just being really nice, and being a gentleman, and it’s so easy to misinterpret that as something, especially since there are so many few guys who have as pure intentions as he does. And he really doesn’t make anything out of it; it’s just something nice that he can do for a classmate, right?

But my friend of a friend, smitten and giddy with the idea of such kindness existing in the world, wants to think there’s something there, an actual reason why he’s going out of his way to be nice. But, hey, let’s face it; there’s nothing there. The guy probably loves his girlfriend like madness. Everything is fluid and ambiguous. Infatuation is so easy to acquire. And just as easy to dispose of. It’s so easy to accidentally dupe someone. It’s equally as easy to lead yourself into being duped.

But the hard part, of course, is that until someone comes up to you to shake you into reason, to dig you out of a hole you probably feel like you want to be buried in, you don’t really understand the logic of it. But it’s there. The probability of misinterpretation is staggering. One side just wants to be loved, the other side probably just wishes it had never happened. But, you know, everyone wakes up sober the next day anyway, and no matter how hard you pretend, you always remember what happened the night before. You know, in the pit of your stomach, if it’s something. And when you know it’s nothing, it’s not worth it to try to vomit up air.

Because, you know, sh*t happens to everybody. And it sure sucks, but sometimes things just aren’t what they seem. It’s nice to have a little crush, it’s probably healthy for everyone. But sometimes that’s all that it can be. And it may not be much, but it’ll spare you the drinking binges, the crying, the embarrassing texts. And you’ll have this sort of pristine memory. Which, dammit, sounds boring as hell.

So I guess what I’m tring to say is, go ahead! Make an ass out of yourself! Learn from it! And learn when not to do it. Because if we never make asses out of ourselves at least once in our lives, then we’ll never learn to wipe our own sh*t.

{March 1, 2008}   Time

Analog Clock

 Imagine a world where people live each day like it was their first. An ordinary dawn like every other dawn is always the world’s first dawn. An ordinary midnight like the hundred of midnights that passed is always their life’s first midnight. In a world such as this, people are young and free. They have all the time in the world to dance, to sing, to learn, to celebrate, to praise, to make love. They eat and get drunk knowing there’s no tomorrow.

There’s an unmistakable air of youth and enthusiasm, of ideals, ideas, discoveries and inventions. Eager individuals are seizing the day. They are seen seriously discussing the abstract while concepts are brewing, constantly pondering, tapping the mysteries of the universe. They are seen lavishly killing time to smell the roses, to listen to birds’ first song and celebrate life. In a world where people live each day like it was their first, people don’t have memory. They don’t have recollection of the lives before them or the days before this day and the nights before this night. No, they can’t recount the faces of their mothers, their fathers, their sons their daughters, and their lovers. They can’t remember friendships made or wars fought yesterday. They are people who live individual, separate lives. But if there’s one thing memory cannot teach them, it is that it cannot teach people to grow tired, to get bored, to know what routine is, to get jaded. It doesn’t matter that they keep repeating the mistakes they committed yesterday, which was committed a couple of days ago, a week ago, some months ago, years ago. In a world without history, people do not learn anything past a day. It doesn’t matter that they get hurt each day for the same reason, by the same person. In a world without memory, people are compelled to forgive and forget. It doesn’t matter that they failed over and over in all the days of their life. In a world without recollection, people do not get numb and become indifferent.

Where lives are compressed in one day, time doesn’t dull people’s passion, hope and aspirations. Time doesn’t make people’s zest for living any less than yesterday. Where nostalgia is non-existent, there is no wistfulness in remembering. In a world without memory, people are free from responsibility of deeds past, free from remembering tragedies where families and relatives died, friends and lovers left. Where people are bound to get a new life each day, just for the day, without yesterday to define today and no tomorrow to justify today, people’s lives are like books with stories at the first half and empty pages at the other – all of them never learning, half written stories or less. Where history is a strange word people cannot fully understand, people curse and worship it.

They write myths and legends about the past as they grope in the dark, forever asking who they are. In a world where people live each day like it was their first, everyday is the first laugh, the first discovery, the first love the same way everyday is the first anguish, the first hatred, the first fear. But in this world, happiness, like sadness doesn’t last. There’s always tomorrow when life begins for the first time, when the sun rises from the east for the first time, when the sun sets to the west for the first time and the world ends for the first time. Imagine a world where people live each day like it was their last. An ordinary dawn like every other dawn is always their life’s last dawn. An ordinary midnight like the hundred of midnights that passed is always the world’s last midnight. In this world’s last morning like any other morning, the mood is contemplative, if not solemn. There is a constant reminder that life may only persist for as long as the day could last.

Every moment is an opportunity to cherish. For each more heartbeat, there is infinite gratefulness for the gift of life. In a world where people live each day like it was their last, time is relatively slower. Every second is an eternity. A whole existence of broken heart can be healed in an instant. A lifetime’s worth of understanding can happen in a moment.

A lifetime of absence from another person’s life can be filled in a second. A hundred transgressions can be forgiven in a minute. In a world where people live each day like it was their last, a child is holding a friend’s hands and never wanting to let go. A girl is getting her last kiss from her lover. A son is receiving his final embrace from his mother. At another place, a man is content with the bitterness of remembering—pictures of long gone loved ones and things that were left unsaid, letters that were never sent, promises that were never kept. These people behave like ghosts, residing in dusty shelves of photographs, afraid to live, ever longing, ever remembering. In a world where people live each day like it was their last, memory is a powerful force. People live for memories. It is as if they had lived only to remember and be remembered in return even if in the end, there’ll be nobody left to remember. No, they cannot lead bounded, separate lives. They are always tied in someone else’s memories. People live in memoirs and take whatever it is that recollection brings along with itself, whether it brings meaning, responsibility, reason, bitterness or guilt. People cannot escape it. Memory justifies what people do today. In a world where every second that passes adds to the world’s nostalgia, there’s an insistent yearning for some past no matter how close or distant. They keep recalling friendships made or wars fought yesterday. Some people find something in there that they’ve never seen before. Only because they attached with it some purpose, some cause, even if it had to be vague, even more if they really didn’t know, they just had to believe there’s some purpose to everything. While some people try as they might, but they could only hear the same tune, smell the same scent, see the same things over and over as they relive the same memory with blank stares. In a world where people live each day like it was their last, they ultimately recount faces of mothers, fathers, sons and daughters, even if they didn’t want to because it always meant remembering, too, the same mother or father who died yesterday. The same sons and daughters who were estranged. The same friends and lovers who left. It doesn’t matter, in a world where memory is longer than time, people are compelled to forgive. Forgetting inevitably comes at the end of the day.

In a world where people live each day like it was their last, everyday is the last laugh, the last discovery, the last love the same way everyday is the last anguish, the last hatred, the last fear. People wake up to a morning when the sun rises from the east for the last time until when the sun sets to the west for the last time taking with it, the same sun, the world, their memory and life. ############### Acknowledgment: Alan Lightman’s Einstein’s Dreams.

et cetera