Again, again, again...

2006-02-02T12:53:00.000+08:00

I'm a stone, I'm a stone
Pick me up, throw me gone
Heave me far, out of sight
Throw me high, to the light
Watch me rise, watch me fly
To the promise of the empty sky

The sky is cold, the sky is cold
Open up, loosen hold
Air is all, air is peace
Feel the ease, my gentle breeze
Heaven cries, heaven lies
How high, how high can we really rise?

I feel it come! I feel it come!
My world, it calls! And now, it falls!
A crash of breeze, hits and misses
My face it touches, razor kisses
I feel my sin, I see it grin
It bleeds within, right through my skin

The fires come! The fires come!
They sing, they hum!
I feel me crack, I feel me break
My colors run, my colors streak
The heat it locks; the heat it mocks
It broke my view, these burning locks

The earth is gone, the earth is gone!
I should have seen! I should have known!
Hear me sob, hear me cry
Watch my heart, watch me die
There's nothing right; there's nothing wrong
All I know is you are gone

I'm a stone, I'm a stone
I am here, and you are gone

2006-01-26T14:36:00.000+08:00

Just this morning, I realized I have access to almost all of my ex's email, profiles, and other online accounts. Like most people I know, he has one apssword for everything. I tried it out. It worked. Watching what he does won't help make me feel good about myself nor about other decisions he makes. I guess it's just like the power the ring promised me. I can vanish from his world to see what he really does all by himself. I know it's dangerous and it'll probably be very hurtful, but I would go with my instincts and be a guardian for him.

I honestly want nothing but the best for him.

Even if it's gonna hurt me.

2006-01-23T04:39:00.000+08:00

A cloud of fear has been bugging me the past few days. I am pretty afraid to go online or stay online for long thinking I would end up perusing his blog or worse, catching him online. He hasn't actually gone online for about two weeks now. Which is good. Then again, the paranoia in me is saying that he probably made a new private blog or that he's probably in perpetual invisible mode.

Insecurity has been a constant guest in my head. My self-esteem has been greatly damaged and traumatized. Add to that, work politics currently happening. Guess I'm still blaming myself fr everything that's going on. Why must they all happen at once? Undergoing therapy has been considered. Though, I have begun a new mantra or thinking. At least for the past few days, it has helped me through my doubting times. For all intents and purposes, I am the one that got away.

2006-01-12T08:13:00.000+08:00

It's so insane how I can relate to incidental love songs playing as a part of ambient/everyday noise. Years back, I've always hated listening to certain radio stations that seem to have been locked in the past. Now, I've learned to forgive them for giving me a window for my emotions to peak through.

It's quite surreal seeing his profile read "Geneva, Switzerland" for his location. It's like he's just right across the corner from where I am still. I hate how his uncle had to send me a message on the phone telling me to try to catch him online since he felt homesick. He wanted to leave, I let him leave. He wants to be friends, I let him be friends. If he wants to talk to me, let him talk to me.

Right now, it's very very easy to fall into the invitation of hatred. It's very easy. I've practically entertained the thought and kept it lignering around my head for some time now. The silliest things just get me on it. For instance, when we started going out, I couldn't wear my pants without a belt. Now, I couldn't wear my pants, period.

But I know I am better than that.

Or am I?

2006-01-10T20:32:00.000+08:00

I've finally moved out from the condo. Despite my struggles in keeping myself busy, I however don't think that I've moved on.

Yet.

At this point, I'm pretty tired of telling my story scene by scene, cut-to-cut, line by line, tear by tear. All the crying has made me weary. All the consolations have made me sorry. All the thinking has made me jarred. Everyone's right. Everyone's wrong. I don't know what to do. But I know I wanna stop. There's nothing to get over. Nothing to to hold up.

It lasted a year, but it never ended.

2006-01-02T09:41:00.000+08:00

Ever slept without really sleeping? You know, the kind of sleep that has your body asleep yet you're very conscious of every other sensory experience going on, save for vision? Last night, my body was asleep but I knew I was wide awake. When I came to, it was six in the morning and I felt like I hven't slept at all. I wake up to a nearly empty house. Or so I thought. Turns out, everyone else was still asleep, and my mum had gone to work.

My phone alerted me of an incoming message. It was from the broker asking if she could come see the unit later this afternoon. I turned my phone off without replying. I planned to move out last Saturday, but the call of a break just made me want to stay home. Today, I shall pool all my strength and move all my stuff from the condo back to our little place in Cubao.

I can do this.

2005-12-31T23:26:00.000+08:00

In the coming year, I'd love great tidings for all of us. I wish it would rain half an hour before midnight.

They say rain is a sign of good tidings. A customary belief here is to watch out for the first rainfall in may. It's the end of our summer and the start of the wet season. They say if one showers under the first rain in May, that person catches a shitload of prosperity and blessings. I've never really done it. Growing up my folks wouldn't allow me to jump into the rain since I had a very weak immune system. I could die even before I see any prosperity or blessing fall on my lap. Then again, maybe death is the pinnacle of prosperity.

We'll never know.

Rain'll certainly clean up the streets and the air from all the soot and smoke. Plus that'll shut up the neighborhood. Why can't we have a peaseful, honest to goodness, quaint New year's celebration? Come on. I live on the friggin' mountains east of the metro and we can't even have cabin atmosphere. It's bad enough that we're barraged by the noise (above all) pollution of tricycles that every night we practically hear fireworks. I don't want to be a party pooper. My folks wouldn't forgive me if I went out somewhere else without them. I don't want to be the sour crack on the chain to break the smallest bit of tradition they feel for our family, being together on Christmas and New Year's.

There's nothing to be happy about. We can only hope and pray our wish gets drawn in the great wish lotto of fate.

2005-12-30T21:52:00.000+08:00

I'm at the stage where I find and scrutinize all his flaws. Is there such a stage? I hope I got here by accident. It doesn't make me happy.

2005-12-25T22:34:00.000+08:00

I went with a last minute decision to buy presents for my family. Just my family. To everyone else, I have declared that there was no Christmas for Ran this year. I didn't feel like there was anything to celebrate with everything that was happening to me. But as a very dear friend pointed out, I shouldn't crap up the possibility of a wonderful Christmas for everybody else. At the very least, just because the universe seems to dump all this drama on my lap, doesn't mean everybody else is pouting the holidays away. So I turned my wallet around and bought stuff for my family.

For the longest time, my family has always treated Christmas eve pretty much like every other eve that come around. We'd have early dinner with whatever's been prepared, while the rest of the night in front of the television, computer, or some book. Next thing you know, it's Christmas day. My plan was to keep everyone up till midnight so I can give them their presents. But how do I keep them up?

On a whim, my sister gave in to cooking spaghetti. It was already 8.00p. And it hits me. Maybe we can drag the process by coming up with our own little feast. Just to make things different. Besides, there were lots of stuff in the fridge we can clean, cut, and cook. Perfect. At least I thought. By half past nine, we've finished all the cooking. Too early, I thought. I dragged my sister out to buy bread and cool beverage. The short car ride was a catch up session of sorts. Isn't it nice how we can have moments like this? We were back by ten. Still too early. Two more hours. I figured dad can stay up late watching some movie on cable or DVD. We can wake mum up by twelve, and my brother would just wake up hearing the clattering of utensils and laughter. Great. Of course it always looks good on paper. Dad felt entered his chamber by 11p. It was my sister, house help, and myself.

Contingency, I can opt to stay up way late and set the gifts up for them to open when they wake up the next day. Whew.

By half-past 11, my brther woke up. He was hungry. So we had our little feast three siblings and house help. By laf-past 12, they were out. By 1a, I've set the gifts on the coffee table in the living room. By half-past one, dad wakes up, He begins watching some documentary on television. There goes my plan. I went to bed. What's the use? The surprise was ruined.

I woke up seven am today, with my door open. Mum was having coffee with dad, and my brother was in my room, online. I was wondering why none of them seem to be thanking me. Not that I was looking for it, but come on. Something must be wrong, right?

Right.

Apparently, thanks to my ingenious idea of wrapping the gifts in news paper and white Japanese paper, they thought the stuff on the coffee table were my sister's school stuff. Right. So after I explicitly stated the case of them having gifts from me for Christmas, everything started flowing smoothly. After some greetings, hugs, and kisses, I went back to bed.

And that's how I gave Christmas a break.

2005-12-22T16:34:00.000+08:00

"We should all be like Ran!" Exclaimed one of the creative directors from the office. "In his mind, he's only 95 pounds."

The theme for the night was Last Days of Disco. People came in Studio 54 ensembles to Saturday Night Fever props. It was all about curls, flares, and skimpy-short-shorts. Boots ran amuck so did wigs. But the stars of the night were a mix of both. Guys in drag. It was all about attitude. We had it all. Presentations hit the dance floor like war hit the desert. Everyone struck with moves and grooves that made the boss go, "Let's just open a dance studio people!" And just like the grand glam, the prizes at stake were bigger. It's all about the money. Fun came in second, but to a team so determined to set things right, our focus was really on the prize.

With all the hard work we did rehearsing and practicing, we weren't surprised we'd win the big pot. We sorta did, consdiering we were rather behind the rankings in the office. See our office has this internal competition scheme where teams compete for points. We were pretty far behind, but by the end of the night, we were second and quite close to one. That's still a lot of money.

Our office Christmas parties, by tradition, are one of the more colorful events of our corporate year. We'd come up with themes and concepts and parade ourselves along the nearby mall by our office en route to our party venue. Last night, the admin declared a cancellation in the annual parade. However, my team along with a few other restless souls opted to keep the tradition alive. We walked along the halls of Greenbelt two, three, and through a lady playing a harp. People stopped and stared at our silvers, whites, and pinks. Some laughed. Some were puzzled. Some just didn't know what was going on. It's crazy.

We're crazy.

At the end of the night, everyone comes out a winner. The office gives out consolation prizes to everyone apart from the raffle, and presentation prizes. The program ended at around midnight, but the dancing went on for anotehr full two hours. By 1.30a the music shifted from disco to 80's. By then it was official. Those were indeed the Last Days of Disco.

Now to go make sure I stay at 95 pounds.

2005-12-20T10:00:00.000+08:00

People call me a survivor.

I know they mean well by being supportive and empowering, but who would want to live a life of constant trials and turbulence? At the same time, who doesn't? I guess I just take it much better than others, this whole surviving bit.

The nice thing about surviving is realizing you come out a winner by being able to overcome whatever trouble comes your way. But being a winner is subject to so many rules, terms, and regulations. Subjectively, winning can be quite the trouble itself. Between you and me, I'd rather be a winner than a survivor.

I think I can survive that.

2005-12-19T10:14:00.000+08:00

"Are the two of you together? I mean, can I set you two up, unless you two are already being set-up? Are you two dating?"

There it was. Dette spilled it out roughly two mintues after I met her. She's a friend of Gil. Gil is my crush. Remeber the one I was talkng to you about from the club? Yeah. I was at this event last Saturday night where he was spinning. I tagged along as his groupie for the night.

I met some of his friends who were all living testimonies to his greatness. They're good people, but the pressure! God. Haha. Actually, it was a good kind of pressure. They did like me. I guess I am just bothered by the instance that there's no one I know whom I have introduced to someone I like who would go all out and say "It doesn't get any better than Ran."

Okay. That may be asking for much, but you get my drift?

That night, one of Dette's friends brought a small bottle of absynthe. That was the first time I had a few drops lace my tongue in a numbing sensation of sweetness. The gin made me smile. The absynthe made me happy. I wish falling in love was like that. You only relish the sweetness and joy while you're numb of any pain that can come. Of course what sucks is waking up the next day with a severe hangover. And the reality that it didn't last. Nothing will.

On our way home after the event, dancing, and some extended partying, I told him about how his friends sort of evaluated me. Gil chuckles.

"The thing with them is..." He pauses. "They haven't seen me with someone in over four years. So they're kinda making do with what they see." He smiles. "You shouldn't be dating a DJ. Haha."

And then... Bam!

"Am I dating a DJ?" Very minor pause. "I mean, I just wanna know."

Gil smiles. "We're going out."

So as of 6.17a, Sunday December 18, 2005, I'm going out with a DJ. Not that there's any real merit to that, I just like things clear.

2005-12-16T08:18:00.000+08:00

Clicking sounds. I wake up minutes past five in the morning to a set of clicking sounds in my condo. Immediately, visions of having a stranger suddenly appearing within the premises picking on my things flooded my mind. Of course there was the pleasant thought of the ex suddenly arriving from work sitting by the couch doing more work. I'm no stranger to that since he would do that from time to time; waking up in the middle of the night, working. He's quite the workaholic. His ambition, dedication, and will made him.

Last night at around 730p, I gave him a call. Out of instinct, the person I call about feeling bad would have to be him. I ranted on about one of the bullies here at work and how she had been pushing me around. She does so interestingly however since she pushes me around behind my back, thinking I won't know about it. I've had my share of bullies growing up. She's not even the shit those troublemakers had when I was younger. So I moved on after letting it out.

He was doing the rounds with a broker. Since he'll be moving to Switzerland at the start of the year, his office had arranged for him to visit several serviced apartments and other living spaces suitable for him.

I'm not denying the fact that I am very sad right now because of our parting, but I believe everything happens for the best and certain sacrifices have to be made in order to make way for the best. When you know you're okay, everything else will be okay. Rand, my friend whom I was with the other night believes that we shouldn't worry about things too much. Solutions for even the biggest troubles do come. He has bore witness to that under such grave circumstances involving his mother and cancer. I agree. I also subscribe to making myself the best person I can be towards the world. I remembered an old post by my old friend Vill about not thinking about what the world owes you but thinking more about what you owe to the world. That's a great deal really. It helped me through some trying times some time back.

My troubles began flashing through my mind. One after the other. At some point, all of them flashed all at once, drowning out my efforts to sleep. I remembered a little meditation trick a high school teacher taught me. I thought of the number one. Nothing else but the number one. Just one. Then darkness. I wake up half past seven. The breeze from the fan made the stick hanging by the blinds strike it repeatedly causing the repeated clicking sounds that resembled keyboard pushing.

Now I am repaying my debt to the world.

2005-12-15T14:44:00.000+08:00

Lunches are meant to be savored. It's a very nice form of therapy half-way through the day. It's usually best with a hot meal, cold drinks, and good conversation. Good pertaining to the conversation not necessarily the topic. Nothing beats being able to catch up nearing the week's end. By this time, usually a lot has gone on. Good, bad, happy, or sad, these are what make conversations rich and worth the time.

I just came from a two-and-a-halfer. It had all the richness of the above with a dash of giddy. I wasn't alone. We were less than three. My ears were red, but they weren't hot. My cheeks were redder.

2005-12-15T09:57:00.000+08:00

"I knew it!" I said to myself as I miserably waited for a cab to hail. It was almost one in the morning and what started out as a night of stress-releasing conversations ended up being quite stressful itself.

Dinner began around eight after I coerced an officemate to eating stir-fried glass noodle in curry and chicken. His name is Kitchen. He's an artist who lives with his folks who run a restaurant and catering business. Kitchen had no one to go home with since his commute pal Pat took leave for the day. Initially he wanted fastfood. But since it was payday, I asked him if we could shell out a few more bucks to eat somewhere more tasteful. And so it began. I was telling him about the things that have been troubling me these past few days. Most of them from work, friends from work, and (im)possibility of work.

Kitchen's a pretty cool guy. He's practically one of the three guys whom I trust in the office. When I would ask him about his troubles, or when he would volunteer to speak up, he was pretty nonchallant about almost everything. Not that he wasn't troubled, it's more of, he doesn't care. He even extends that neither should I. Care as much, at least. All I can say is, I try.

By nine Kitchen took a cab and raced for the northern part of the city. By then, I was about to meet up with another friend for coffee. We love to say that, but when we (most people I know in general) meet up, we don't really drink coffee, though we would go to a coffee shop. I wound up having a banana smoothie and she had a watermelon shake. Her name is Nanette. She is a listener. Our conversation was a continuation of my conversation with Kitchen. It's just quite nice to be engaged with people her age who are relaxed and who make sense. She gave me insights as to why I may be feeling as such, and as well as tips on how I can overcome them. She's prqactically been there. But she was open and sincere. I guess I am blessed with such wonderful people. She's like the aunt you would turn to knowing your own mom won't really listen to you. Plus she's way cool. I asked to leave by ten thirty since I had another friend who wanted to meet up with me. After picking up the tab, she walked me towards the next coffee shop where my other friend was waiting. Neither he was drinking coffee. He was having the mango flavored frap. I kisssed Nanette goodbye and bid her a good night.

My next friend, Rand, needed company till twelve. His carpool mate Jay was hooking up with someone, and well, let's just say that this way, he'd be saving 300 bucks from cabbing home. He belongs in the same field as myself. But he's been here longer. We told our day stories to each other. I told him about my recent schedule pattern, which is often free-free-free. He told me about his fan-group party and how he eneded up getting a tube of Pringles from his exchange gift. The last exchange gift I had was back in fourth year high school. I got a Pikachu stuffed toy that talked when his ass would touch anything. Pretty kinky don't you think?

By twelve, our other friend Fonzy dropped by to give Rand a disc. Fonzy is Mr. Chinese entrepreneur-slash-circuit boy. If you wanted a business network, he has a vast and extensive web. If you wanted an event, he would know about seven going on all at the same time. A few smiles later, he had successfully lured us to this restaurant's anniversary party. It was at Rockwell. I felt like I was back in school. I haven't seen a thicker concentration of coños (a local expression for socialites derived from the Spanish word for vagina) since my college days. I was tired and it was draining to watch lots of people trying their darnest at being somebodies. Surprisingly I lasted for an hour. Before I raised the white flag. Since my friends were still enjoying each other's company (by default) I offered to cab home all by myself. And there I was, walking towards J.P. Rizal since I was told by a helpful security personnel that there were more cabs there.

By half-past one, I was on the phone with the ex. I could smell him right beside me then.

2005-12-14T08:35:00.000+08:00

There was no specific name for it, and as far as I am concerned, it is some sort of medical phenomenon. Rod Moser, PA-C, PhD from WebMD, describes it as a type of blushing. Warm, oxygen rich blood would shoot up the ears, like a really strong blushing. What causes this, he has yet to identify. According to him this is nothing to be alarmed of. Some ENTs would treat this condition with beta-blockers. These are drugs that're used for high blood pressure and other cardiac related treatments. But that isn't often the case. And most certainly (hopefully) not for me. I don't think I need beta-blockers. Come on. Beta-blockers? Geez. But still, I ought to have my blood pressure checked just in case.

It grew uncomfortably hot early yesterday evening. I had to cancel a movie engagement with my boss and our friend. Add to that, I still had a recording (hmmm) to oversee. Thank God that didn't take more than an hour. I started to feel better after the recording, so I had a little snack with my boss and two producer friends. However, as the clocked reached past the 11pm mark, it began to heat up again. By midnight, I begged to be dropped home. On the sack (of course after a nice shower and cleaning up) I looked at my phone the way I would when I was left home alone. Seven hours was the difference before. Now it's career, residence, and a tight emotion lid.

I called up the ex.

Don't worry. We're friends. We're sensible adults. Really. We're pretty much concerned about each other's well-being, so we both spent a few minutes catching up post-break-up for the first time. It's really not so different. Funny. At least now I am sure hot red ears isn't a symptom of heartbreak. During the talk, in bouts of silence and listening to each other breathing, typing, and crumpling sheets, my ears were surprisingly cool. He was at the tail-end of his day. I was shutting down.

"I'll be sleeping now. Take care."

2005-12-13T09:40:00.000+08:00

Ear fever. That's what I'd call it.

The day after my single-clubbing spree, my ears have become feverish all by themselves. Every other part of my body was normal, if not cold. Yesterday at the office (I have an economic function that is beyond my emotional predisposition) the pair grew hot to new levels. I could literally feel them heat up the rest of my head. I felt like I needed cooling ear muffs.

My ears lapsed in heat some months ago while I was at it with the ex. Don't get me wrong. This isn't a sentimental post-break-up-missing-the-sex-with-the-ex post. I was merely stating that first sentence of this paragraph, which I will not rewrite anymore, as fact. That night my ears were on fire, as were my insides. But it was a good heat that would fade at the stroke of the skin. Droplets of sweat would bead at the open surfaces only to be wiped into a twisting of passions. Now stop. Don't get too carried away. I really write like that.

But going back. Yesterday, my ears were so hot. However, I didn't feel the slightest horniness about me. Sure I ended up touching myself a couple of times, but then it would usually cool off. It didn't. I slept it off and I woke up to a lukewarm pair. Much cooler than yesterday, but still weirdly warm. I wonder if I've stumbled into some new medical condition.

Don't recall reading about this as a symptom of heartbreak.

2005-12-12T09:30:00.000+08:00

Ever stared at the ground from the edge of a moving vehicle?

You know you're looking at what your mind tells you to the ground. Your eyes however tell you that it's an illusion. A haze that runs the lines of your vehicle's motion. It's mesmerizing to stare at. The closer you lock your eyes from the edge of the vehicle, the heavier the drag the speedlines claim. However, the farther you are, and once you look at the ground with steady vision, you'll know it was just the ground after all.

Perhaps it's like this when we're facing the hurly-burly of things. When we're caught up in every swirl and spinning, everything seems unbelievable. We know certain things to be fact, but the speed at which these events hit one after the other make us feel that we're seeing nothing but illusory haze. Unbelievable. Sometimes when we think we've escaped it, we look back and see that it was just the ground at which we stood on and from where we are now, it's quite late to go back.

Hit the brakes. Gather your ground. I know where I am at. Everything's gonna be fine.

2005-12-11T21:34:00.000+08:00

Never have I gone clubbing all by myself.

I usually bum with different packs of friends I have known for some time or I'd tag some unwilling specimen from the female species to act as my blabber company. I would, after all, need someone to talk to me, even if I won't be listening half the time. On some instances, she would praise and worship me. What gay guy on this planet wouldn't want to be worshipped? I know of like two, but I really think they're closet straight guys more than they are gay. Anyway, I'm getting lost. Where was I? Right.

On the first hour of being officially single (last Friday night) marked the first time I went clubbing all by myself. It felt crazy. It felt scary. But something told me, I was at the point in my life where it was okay to go clubbing alone. I braced myself for the impact and a few smiles and familiar hi's later, my pace for the night, or early morning, was set. Let's get something clear, it wasn't my intention to get a rebound lay. I don't think I am into that. I may feel like it, but my principles as a person tell me otherwise. My intention was to have a good time. And quite possibly to spend some time with an acquaintance whom I've had a certain fondness of for quite some time now. He's part of the ruling class in this parliament of a club. Other than being a gay haven, it is practically known in dance circles as the best place to go dancing in town.

The night was throbbing in rhythm, bass, and high-pitched diva mixes. Bodies were shaking, grinding, and sweating. People tried to talk, walk, and gawk. The dancefloor carried on a ritual. The ledges bore those who dared. The ground was for worshipers. The lights played tricks as it licked the eyes of the stunned masses. It was amazing to see people carrying conversations. I could hardly carry mine. What's a guy to do under such circumstances?

Dance.

I must've done rather well. I went home with two new phone numbers, and four guys asking for mine. Sounds like I had the time of my life huh? Actually, it's more like I'm serving time for some sentence. I'm just making the most out of it.

2005-12-09T08:39:00.000+08:00

This day last year, I fell in love.

Tomorrow it ends.

It has been a countdown towards an end the moment I realized that at this point in my life, career has a bigger weight than romantic involvement. I fell in love with a man of the world hence I married the world. It's like being a contestant in some reality show where couples are asked to choose between each other or money.

I've chosen the other, while my man had chose the economic ties.

What we have supposedly ended last Halloween. However, it took me a great while to finally accept such a change taking place at such a surge. Tomorrow it ends, as we have celebrated a year of sharing our lives together as lovers.

Friends. At least he tries to conjure that image that we'll be the best of friends. It'll take me a great while once more to maybe even consider that as a subtext of my reality.

His name's Wally. I'm Ran. Today we're lovers. Tomorrow exes.