Dec 26, 2006
the keyboard's all wet and salty and everything's blurry
he remembered to come. my father, he did. every single year, come 26th of december, he would wake me up at 5am and we'd hear mass at 6. every single year since i can't remember when. every single year except this one.
today at 5am nobody woke me up because there was no need to. i was still awake, in somebody else's house on somebody else's bed. i wanted to crawl deeper into the sheets and pretend that today was all a dream just like what i did yesterday. but apparently, i was not so good a pretender today so i rolled off the bed and started this god-forsaken day.
i was right on time, probably the 14th of all those people who came for the early tuesday morning service. i found myself a pew and stared straight ahead, clearing my head of all thoughts of sleep. i was not in any way expecting him to come. i didn't even think of looking around for him. but he was there, approached me when service was over. as solid as the bag of presents he held. i didn't have to touch him to know he was all real. he held me before i could get a chance to. then i cried. i cried for what seemed like a thousand eternities. and it was a thousand eternities when nothing else mattered. i don't remember returning his embrace. i didn't because i knew if i so much as touched him i would never be able to let go. so i just stood there awkwardly. with clenched fists and a racing pulse. i just cried and cried. cried until i was reduced to hiccups.
at some point he did let me go. i started walking toward the parking lot and he helped me get the presents in the car. i offered him a ride but he declined, saying he needed the exercise. i wished him happy holidays and thanked him. for the embrace, for remembering to come, for making me feel less of an orphan.
i got in and asked again if he wanted a ride. he just smiled and waved me away. i could never explain the way i felt when i drove away and watched his diminishing figure reflected in the rear view mirror. it was like seeing him for the first time in such a long time. he really needed the exercise. he's like what, sixty? who knows how many more years will be there to spend with him? it was a sad thing to think about. a thought i never managed to get out of my head during the five-minute drive home.
i hate myself. i hate, most especially, the way i would so easily succumb to the comfort of tears. i cried while i was driving, i cried as i put the presents under the tree, i cried as i prepared my breakfast, i cried as i sipped my coffee, i cried and rocked myself to sleep.
and it's quite impossible for me to recall the morning's events without crying. so here i am. the keyboard's all wet and salty and everything's blurry as hell.
the keyboard's all wet and salty and everything's blurry
Permalink
Dec 26, 2006 09:39 pm
drunkendamsel alone* in the rain;
Dec 25, 2006
don't need a fuckin title
if you ever hear me say that this christmas is perfectly fine, find the nearest fire exit and push me over the railing.
i'll go straight to my point.
i spent christmas eve alone.
an hour before the 25th and i was still driving around the city with no destination in mind. i obviously had no appetite for food, was told to abstain from coffee, and i can't have alcohol because i was driving. so i pulled over and lit a cigarette.
bad idea.
i left the house because everything about it was so oppressive, and i needed some distraction. i was in the middle of nowhere and depression was slowly seeping back into my system. clouding my thoughts that for a moment i thought i was gonna cry. eventually, i felt normal enough and was able to think clearly. i know someone who's most likely as alone as i was. i reached for my phone on the passenger seat. no phone. apparently, i left it at home and brought instead an ipod and a truman capote. how stupid can i get? i felt tears resurfacing. i remember being pissed at the well wishers because all they say is 'merry christmas to you and your family' with few variations, if any. fuck them all. i don't have a family. i don't belong anywhere. jem invited me to his parents' place, though. i've been there a number of times but i decided to stay after all. christmas is different. you're supposed to spend it somewhere you belong. and i know i don't belong there. i could almost hear them ask me 'hija, why aren't you at your parents' place at noche buena? not that you're not welcome here, of course you are...' i told jem i just might drop by my parents' place just so he'd shut up and let me stay. but i never had the courage and the intention to do it. i even skipped church because i was afraid i'd run into them.
so i just drove around some more, trying to clear my head. stepping harder on the gas whenever i'm reminded of how pathetic i am. as if it's possible to think of something else. i remember thinking of finally surrendering myself to the depression. i had no means to fight it. i consumed all the chocolates we had, i don't have any medication to induce sleep or rest at least, and neither do i have any prescription for drugs that alleviate depression.
i had nothing but a car running low on gas, half a pack of dunhills, an ipod, and a truman capote, which incidentally, is about more depressing shit.
after much deliberation, i decided that desperate times call for desperate measures. i started the car, made a u-turn and stopped for gas. then i drove to the joint heaven. i needed lots of it. but what i needed more was to get laid. i was ready to believe that sex was the perfect substitute for prozac. i need it hard. and fast. i need it now. i haven't got my hopes halfway up yet when they began plummeting down. when i got there, one look around was enough to tell me that i shouldn't desire any more than the stash, because that's all that i'll be getting. scary people. no sex for me. i left immediately after paying. didn't even bother with the change. went straight home and began with the aromatherapy session.
oh, well.
merry christmas, kat. merry, merry christmas.
don't need a fuckin title
Permalink
Dec 25, 2006 03:41 am
drunkendamsel alone* in the rain;
Dec 24, 2006
degeneration
GIO: DON'T READ THIS. PLEASE.
i am experiencing degeneration on all three faculties:
1. physical
2. mental
3. emotional
one may have been the result of the other, but i can't be sure which is which. for example, i may be regressing mentally because of my unhealthy practices which are, of course, exhibited by my frail physical frame. this, in turn, makes me emotionally unbalanced since i am one to believe that emotions are governed by the brain.
paradoxically, this emotionally challenged state led me into a hedonistic lifestyle---consuming what proves to be detrimental to my health, as long as it gives me pleasure, or at least a certain degree of it. since this line of reasoning may continue indefinitely being inconclusive as it is, i decide to leave it at that.
for now, i think it's enough to accept that i am indeed experiencing degeneration.
after all, acceptance is the first step to rehabilitation.
for how can you possibly mend something that you won't accept as broken?
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Dec 24, 2006 06:09 am
drunkendamsel alone* in the rain;
Dec 21, 2006
T.R.O.
I am the ultimate glutton. Jem made sure of this. i could ask for anything i'd like to eat. He'd either order it and have it delivered, or prepare it himself. So far, i've indulged myself on the following: 4-cheese lasagna, chocolate in varying forms (bars, krinkles, brownies, cake, champorado, etc.), shakes in four variants (mango-banana, melon, kiwi-strawberry, mocha), instant pancit canton that i never enjoyed eating at school, pistachio ice cream, french toast at 2am, Wado's bibingka, Cello's doughnuts, KFC bucket meals, pounds and pounds of twister fries (i'd eat the fries and he'd eat the rest of the meal), Yellow Cab's New York's Finest with hot wings, and oh, potato chips---thin, lightly salted.
No, i'm not an expectant mother.
And no, i'm not enjoying it.
Why the fuck not? Because i am following an order restraining me from smoking and drinking. The only things that i enjoy doing. Ugh, i hope to god this is temporary.
So Jem got me into this home-based rehabilitation program where he's supposed to follow me everywhere so i'd rather stay home. And i'm on my fourth day. Clean as i've never been before. But i still don't understand it. I mean, i'm not so far gone. Why spend money for this program? I know in my heart that i'm no addict. I can still control myself, though i choose not to. And i tried to tell Jem this, but there's no point in arguing. I practically live off his money, so i just shut up. Well, he told me "i'm doing this because i want to protect you."
Protect me from what, i could only guess.
The alcohol? The drugs? The people around me?
Myself?
He's probably thinking that i'm the biggest threat to myself there could ever be. After what i've done, and what i still plan to do, he might be right.
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Dec 21, 2006 03:55 am
drunkendamsel alone* in the rain;
Nov 24, 2006
perfect
still i remain broken
and i don't know how to pick up the pieces
or if there are still some pieces of me left to be picked up.
i have been stupid, that's for certain.
all those precautions still were not enough
to see myself through to the end that i have coveted for so long.
but there will be a next time.
there always is a next time.
and when that time comes,
i'll make sure everything will be perfect.
Permalink
Nov 24, 2006 11:13 pm
drunkendamsel alone* in the rain;
Sep 9, 2006
no title
one thing i learned today:
the world is so fucked up and there's nothing i can do about it.
Permalink
Sep 9, 2006 01:22 am
drunkendamsel alone* in the rain;
Sep 3, 2006
you want honesty? i'll give you honesty
if you are reading this, i probably told you to do so because i'm so fuckin tired of explaining myself to everyone.
i resigned because i have this crazy notion that i'm being attached to people more than i'm supposed to. i don't expect anyone to understand so i simply put it like this: 'I believe the extent of my officership had been productive and the organization is no longer in need of my service.' Now if you can't figure it out for yourself, stop reading, because you won't figure out the rest of this anyhow.
i regret the times when i told lies about this resignation. i was not prepared to lie. in effect, i looked stupid to everyone because i kept telling them stories which deviate from the last one i told. it should have been straight to the point, explained as simple as possible. But nothing is ever simple. and once again i find myself quoting Marvin Estrada, 'if life was simple, we'd all be farmers and poets. it is conflict that defines our character.'
And so i'm confessing. it scares the hell out of me to be attached to you people. you kids. and i'm paranoid as hell that i'm scouring for a way out even if it means abandoning my work entirely. call me selfish. tell it to my face. but everytime i'll get the chance to ponder on it, i'll be thinking that it's very wrong for me to be with you. yes, i am welcome. yes, we're having fun. but i still feel wrong. i know i'm attempting to explain the unexplainable. i may be blogging away in vain, but i'd like to believe that something good will come out of this.
when i was preparing my letter i thought i would welcome any attempt to compromise. but i did not expect to be condemned because i resigned. and now there's more conflict than i can ever imagine. i still lead you to believe that i resigned because of somebody. i did not. it just seems so much easier for you to accept this than to comprehend my real reason. so i let it be. for how long, i don't know. probably until after you read this.
i am full of regret. i'm just pretending that i am not.
if i had the slightest clue that i would fuck things up by resigning, i never should have done it. i swear to whatever god there is, i wouldn't have done it.
you want honesty? i'll give you honesty
Permalink
Sep 3, 2006 05:20 pm
drunkendamsel alone* in the rain;
Jun 22, 2006
The Human Wrecking Ball
It's funny how the word 'reality' loses value. Well, it's more scary than funny, really. Imagine finding out that what you thought all your life to be real is all a stupid, fucking lie. And it's all because somebody says so. Like you'd just let somebody's idea of reality be yours as well. But you DO believe them. That's what scares the shit out of me. And it's not even my reality that is twisted and adulterated as the gnarled roots of a balete tree. It's those pitiful little kids' reality that is moulded like Play-Doh. And I do pity them, because what they are actually doing is as good as selling their untainted souls to the Devil himself.
It happens like this (as far as I know, since I don't claim to be knowledgeable of everything), the She-Devil befriends the little kids and does every conceivable good deed for their benefit. This, more often than not, includes at least a day of dining and shopping, which is more than what your own biological mother does for you. When only the dining part is present, the She-Devil surprises the kids with stuff she already bought herself. Typical items are designer perfumes, designer coffee mugs, designer shirts and bags, designer pens (oh, yes. There is such a thing as a designer pen), designer anything for Pete's fucking sake. It is in this occasion that I have found out that the world never runs out of designer bullshit. That's supposed to be a given, I guess. I was the stupid one not to know that already. It is in this occasion also that I have found out that the She-Devil never runs out of cash to purchase the endless supply of designer bullshit. But then again She, is the Devil herself. Isn't she supposed to have all the cash in the world at her disposal?? Apparently, not. Only God knows where the She-Devils' money originated, and I don't really want to find out because I bet my son's life that it's from somewhere it's not supposed to have come from. Unfortunately, I am in the position to investigate the case, and it's as cold as hell that's frozen over. Once the She-Devil has already bought the sweet little kids, she uses them as a means to anything that she fancies, and however she desires to use them. Case in point: The Election. The little children of the She-Devil serve the purpose of pawns to her own little Chess Board, using her sleeping time in scheming and plotting her next move, and at least three moves after that. Once the She-Devil has succeeded in something, however small a victory it might be, the jubilation is ever-present in all her aura the next day. Once, however, the She-Devil failed in an undertaking, however small the undertaking might be, the hatred and aggravation also shows. And one must be prepared for cases of the latter, because this is when she is most destructive. It's as exhausting as fucking hell to keep up with the pace the She-Devil has set for all of us, but one must relinquish all thoughts and feelings of exhaustion, because this is where the She-Devil derives her power.
Time is running out for me, and for everybody else. The She-Devil probably doesn't sleep anymore, simply because she is no longer able to do so. If she doesn't die of lack of sleep, Ill make sure she does in overdose of Valium. I'm willing to sell my truck and withdraw all the money in my bank account if only it will be enough to purchase all the Valium in the world. Just for her. I care that much for humanity. Just so she'll stop wrecking other people's lives to attain a certain end that is still unfathomable to me.
'Then why are you so bitter?" you may ask… It is because it breaks my heart to lose the sweet little children who I thought would be wise enough not be sucked body and soul by the Black Hole that the She-Devil created. And yes, I am bitter. But I am more frustrated than bitter, if anything. Sometimes it even seems like it's not worth all the profanity that I'm taking from the She-Devil anymore.
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Jun 22, 2006 09:16 pm
drunkendamsel alone* in the rain;
Apr 28, 2006
The World Will Never Be the Same Without Punctuation Marks
Typical summer night. Too humid to do anything fun. Except take a nice 45-minute shower, perhaps. But then again, it is quite inevitable for me to feel sticky two seconds after I step across the threshold that is the shower curtain. So I sit here. Type words that randomly seize my consciousness. oblivious to whether or not I am still making sense. Why should I care? It's not like this is some eighteen-part novel to be published in the literary section of the weekly paper and eventually the center of public scrutiny. This is an outpouring of my thoughts, however blissfully sublime or gruesome they may be, whether they are life-changing or just plain insignificant like the dirt under your fingernail---nobody fucks with it. And I expect that to hold true even as I try to end this little good-for-nothing piece with a period. Which is of course inevitable, unless I end it all with a question instead of a declaration. In which case, I'd have to end this with a question mark? That wasn't really how I intended it to be written. My sentences are their own sentiences. I have no control over them. They keep pouring out of me with nouns and verbs and adjectives and adverbs and conjunctions with the proper punctuations. And they're beginning to rhyme altogether but I don't want them to because it doesn't really matter. This has got to stop and I might as well zip it, yet my mind is going on overdrive and is filling up with bullshit.
The World Will Never Be the Same Without Punctuation Marks
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Apr 28, 2006 12:45 am
drunkendamsel alone* in the rain;
Apr 26, 2006
losing the waiting game
a mere ten feet separated us
i, on the wooden bench, and
he, on the stone steps.
i could have been feeling his hardness
with the sexual tension so palpable
i could almost feel it breathing down my neck,
redirecting my cigarette smoke
to where it came from.
both of us oblivious of the ten-wheeler trucks
that sped us by.
neither of us advancing
neither of us talking
pretending to be busy perfecting that smoky circle...
...neither succeeding.
i did not notice consuming as much sticks as i had
until i set my eyes on the table.
there they all were..
five cigarette butts...
all with the unmistakable three metallic rings on the filters
and yet i continue staring---
and waiting---
for something that may never come at all.
i still haven't learned to play this game.
Permalink
Apr 26, 2006 11:11 pm
drunkendamsel alone* in the rain;
Don't buy Vista Security
