Past Life

I was reunited with an old girl-friend last Sunday, and I learned that she recently broke up with her boyfriend (now ex) after almost a year of ehem, romance. I’ve gotten so tired of hearing about breakups. It’s as if breaking up is the IN-thing, the ultimate solution to life and love’s greatest problems. Heck, there’s a whole movie devoted to it. Suddenly, we have, right before us, a generation that is full of hurt, pain, heartbreaks, and more reasons to reject love.

I lost count of the number of breakups I’ve heard since I experienced one myself. It has become a regular thing. Sometimes it’s no surprise anymore when I hear of another relationship down the drain. Even in this blog, love has become a topic I dare not try to discuss–to dig in. Not anymore. Sometimes I feel like it’s a waste of time. You try to dig into it, and you open up a can of worms–questions, hurts, struggles, etcetera. You ask yourself, and you ask yourself over again.. how come that the one thing–LOVE–that makes your heart flutter like crazy, is the very same thing that will break your heart like shattered glass?

Then, after all the pain, you pick up the pieces of your battered heart and decide to jump blindedly into the pit of love again. Then you become mushygushy and lovestruck and hopeful again. Then you say to yourself, maybe, just maybe, you won’t have to cry THAT WAY again. Maybe, just maybe, this one will last.

It’s an endless, endless, torturous yet magical rollercoasterride (emphasis on “magical”). Don’t say you haven’t been to one.

* * *

I’m serving my last week here. Just one more week and I’m off this company for good. I don’t know why I even bothered to go back, hehe. My name’s off the priority list already so haha, I have nothing to do here anymore, really. Maybe Mommy Reah did not expect me to report to work today. Still, I’m back, coz I duno, maybe I just want to spend a couple of days more with them (Joni, Romz, Karen, Sarah, Mommy, Sir Jo, and the rest) one last time.

Anyway, I just heard of the recent developments in my soon-to-be-former team and suddenly, the place starts to feel like ghost town. It doesn’t feel like home anymore. From an active player in the ball game, I become just one of the spectators, watching my friends (my former workmates) play the game I’ve gotten tired of.

And the place. Hay. The place starts to feel like a waiting room of sorts. Some waiting for a better job offer to come. Other(s) waiting for the effectivity of their resignation. Some just waiting to go home so they can face another day of the same ordeal. Others waiting for a promotion, or an increase.

I’m just glad that for me, the waiting will soon be over. One year and a month. Everything boils down to this final week. I wonder how I’m gona be remembered. Then again, maybe it doesn’t matter.

* * *

Let me just say that I’ve been so sensitive lately. The littlest of things make my heart react violently, my moods swing uncontrollably, and I get depressed at a rate beyond normal. I may just be PMS-ing, my friends would say. Or this may just be another one of those quarter-life syndromes. Does hormonal change really affect emotions? They say it’s normal to be feeling the way I do now. I say, if this is normal, then I don’t want to be normal ever again. It’s tiring to have several shifts of emotion in a span of say, an hour. Sakit sa ulooo!! Oh sanity, where art thou at a time like this??!

Sometimes, I try to pinpoint the cause of my depression, just to pacify myself. It’s funny coz the normal way should be something like this: there’s a reason to be depressed, so you get depressed because of it. But for me, it’s the other way around. I get depressed, so I try to pinpoint reasons why. Haha, I give up. This is too psycho to handle. ROFL. Haha.

For a control freak like me, I become restless whenever I feel depressed and I DON’T KNOW WHY. Jenny and I were talking about it last Saturday. She said she’s been having episodes of depression herself the past few days.

I want to understand WHY!! Why o why do women have to suffer additional amounts of pain when they already have enough load to carry? I want to get to the root of all this and try, in my helplessness, to save the female population from the cruelties that come with coming of age and womanhood (haha, go Gabriella Silang). It’s stressing me out, really. Especially that part where I DON’T KNOW WHY.

It’s easier to be depressed five months ago.. because it’s easier to pinpoint WHY. I broke up, and that’s it. Every other reason branches out from there. It was hard adjusting, I felt unloved, unworthy, un-beautiful. I could cry everynight and it’s okay.. at least I KNEW WHY. But now, it just doesn’t connect. I feel like betraying God, my friends, my family, those who are close to my heart.. because I don’t have a reason to be depressed and yet, I still have these episodes just the same.

Life should be running smoothly for me now. I have a new job to think about, someone cares about me, I have a thriving (uhuhmm!! haha) social life, I’m at the prime of my life and it’s in full swing. So why the drama? Why am I so scared of what lies ahead? I want to know why.

I do know a couple of things. I know it’s beyond PMS. I know that it’s beyond my physical sickness–the one I’ve been trying to cure with medicines and checkups and prayers since last week. For sure it’s beyond this career shift–which I happened to have embraced with eyes wide open. Bottomline is, this is BEYOND ME. I have no control over RAGING HORMONES. I have no control over CHANGE. No control over LOVE. And QUARTER LIFE CRISIS. All of this is beyond me.

Then again, I know, I know. What I can have under control are my THOUGHTS. So maybe, that’s what I should focus on now.

Hi Papa Lord, why is this so hard??! I know I’ve asked forgiveness on this many times over and yet I still fail you in my thoughts. Like I mastered the art of failing or something. See? There goes the pessimism again. Please breathe in Your thoughts in my head instead. Teach me to focus on Your desires, not mine. Please drown me with thoughts of You until my brain’s all filled to the brim and there’s no more room in it for anything (or anybody) else. Maybe, in so doing, I can appreciate your blessings more. My life, my family, my job, my friends, him, your provisions.. all of these are from You. Please let me see them in YOUR eyes.

Ok, ok. I’m done monologue-ing now. Dinner anyone? Pfft, I’m such a schitzo, it’s tiring. c”,)

After I tried it out with JV’s SLR, I decided I don’t have what it takes to pursue professional photography. You see..

(1) Hawak palang mali na hehe. (What can I do?? It’s heavy!!)
(2) I got cramps in my neck after about 30minutes just carrying it around.
(3) I feel more comfortable BEING IN FRONT of the camera rather than HOLDING IT.

Ha, ha. :P

SLR might be too much (too heavy?) for someone who just wants to camwhore. So I shall stick with Bugi, my trusty N6630, until I find myself a decent digicam to take camwhor-ing to the next level. Just something to capture kodak (and non-kodak) moments with. Preferably something dainty to fit a small purse or to squeeze in my mess of a bag.

For now, Bugi shall suffice. After all, I don’t need high-res photos anyway. Besides, there’s always photoshop. :P

* * *

My friend, who was visiting from New York, had free tickets to Penshoppe’s Denimlab Rockfest @ the Big Dome. So last night, I went with him, quite impulsively I should add, and realized how much I’ve missed him the excitement that comes with loud, heart-thomping rockmusic that makes your eardrums feel like bursting to pieces.

Two consecutive nights of rakenrol, I’m stuffed. Parokya and Kamikaze really know what it means to raaak. Back-to-back Sandwich and Sugarfree brought the house down it was maddening. Imago and Mojofly raised a big hotpink flag that screamed girl power. And I have a new crush in the form of Mojofly’s littledrummerboi. Pfft. Focus, Riz, focus.

Anyway highway.

The other night naman, we went to see this free concert staged by 89.9 to launch The Album that’s been rocking today’s local music scene, Kami nAPO Muna—a tribute to the great trio Jim, Buboy and Danny, better known as the APO Hiking Society.

Although I was never really an APO fanatic, probably because I was still into Barbie (the doll) and Sweet Valley High when APO was at the zenith of their career, I’ve always been aware of their songs. I mean, who among us did not sing Batang Bata Ka Pa or Pumapatak Na Naman ang Ulan at least once in our lives as students, as kids?

IMHO, more and more songs today have been lacking substance, ergo, contemporizing these wonderful, wonderful APO classics is definitely a great idea.

Kami nAPO Muna’s been on my playlist the whole week. I especially like Imago, Moonstar88, and Barbie’s female versions of the songs Ewan, Panalangin, and When I Met You respectively. 100% mush, guaranteed. Of course there’s Parokya Ni Edgar’s version of Pumapatak ang Ulan, Sandwich’s Bakit Ang Babae, and Itchyworm’s Awit ng Barkada—my recent favorites. Lately, I’ve been downloading APO originals, and I sure am loving them.

But you see, I think I fell more in love when we saw in the concert (it was very crowded, mind you), just a few steps away, none other than Mr. Jim Parades himself—in the flesh. Yup. There, in the crowd—standing, sweating, dancing—just like the rest of us. No bodyguards. No bouncers. Just him, his daughter, and some friends.

I spent most of the time watching his back, his profile, his arms as he waves them in the air while dancing to Kamikaze’s wild version of Doobidobidoo. After a while, people started noticing his presence, swarming around him to have their pictures taken. I would have loved a picture with him too but I didn’t want to ruin his moment. He seemed to be enjoying just being in the crowd and appreciating the music he helped create—without hoarding the limelight to himself. So I fought the urge to tap him in the back and click my camphone to his face. Hehe.

Such a humble, down-to-earth guy, Mr. Jim Parades. Seeing him there was enough experience. If he was my Dada, I would have been proud of him too. c”,)

* * *

ON A MORE SERIOUS TONE.

On the way back home with my New Yorker friend last night, I heard one of the first Christmas carols of the year. It started to sink in, the “ber”-months have just began. Another page in the calender was torn to pave way for a new season.

Did anyone say, “wake me up when September ends?” Start counting. You have about 30 more days to sleep.

Where oh where did August go? What’s an even more fitting question, where did the first half of the year go? Gone like poof.

Last week, I filed my resignation from this company which has given me that crucial jumpstart to my professional life. And although my resignation letter only took about 7 sentences and a lot of white spaces, it was, undeniably, one of the hardest letters I had to write in my life. Don’t ask me why.

While part of the reasons is remotely similar to what Pomski’s whining about on her blog, my craving for growth, for something new, has been put on hold long enough.

One morning I woke up ready to take the red pill.

I’m counting the days….

But I think this particular happening in my life deserves a separate post. c”,)