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maliit na bato
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Tuesday, August 10, 2010
it was just an idea at first...
I just need to write this. If I could just broadcast this to the world, I would. But a) I don't want the drama, b) I don't want to let people think that I'm just saying this to fish for a proposal but I don't really mean it, and c) I don't want to emulate those who announce their sentiments to the world in the hopes of having their crushes read their post.
But I need to write this down. I need him to read this in case he doubts that I really mean it (you know, he'd think I'm just waiting for him to propose).
So here it is. I just want to put this on record. That after thinking it over, I have now made up my mind to never marry.
That's right. I don't want to get married anymore.
I know I had been dreaming of my wedding day since time immemorial. I had an idea of what my wedding gown would look like, what flowers would I hold, what shoes would I wear. I even had my songs ready and loaded from my walk down the aisle to the reception dance.
But alas! I have grown up (I think)!
If someone had chanced upon my whole blog and read my wedding post and this particular one, I would understand if that someone would think I'm being bitter or I just want to save face because I wouldn't be able to afford the wedding I want and my prospective groom doesn't seem inclined to shell out a penny as well. I would understand if that would be the reaction. Because if I had read it from a third person's point of view, I would also think the same.
I would think, if I were another person who happened to read this, that she is holding out because she wants him (and I have a him - a real person) to grow up and save something for her so she can have her dream wedding.
Oh yes, that would certainly be what I would think.
But instead of typing really, honestly, truly, sincerely, genuinely numerous times, I will just explain how this feeling developed.
It started out like that. As a means to save face because everyone is getting their dream wedding and I have had a feeling I won't even get to play a song from my list when I finally said I do.
He doesn't seem to get bothered that we're getting older but we're not progressing. He always talked (he still does) about wanting to give his car a major makeover or planning to buy a gigantic LCD TV, or getting an entertainment system or whatever. I don't think he's deliberately being selfish. I don't believe that he has been planning his future without me. It's just that he isn't planning at all. His plans don't go beyond saving for the car's repair or for a big monitor.
And this is the part where it gets really novel-like:
One time (I don't remember when, if it was weeks or months ago), I looked at him when he wasn't aware. I didn't know what exactly did I want to see upon staring at him. But I thought that if I did, I would understand something or he would understand what I had been feeling.
Neither happened.
It turned out I was looking at the wrong spot.
Because you see, as much as I hate to sound like those folks who suddenly get enlightened in films or novels, I was really not thinking clearly. I wanted him to waste money for me just as any boyfriends should do. I little trinket, no matter how cheap, would be appreciated every now and then. A little surprise cake would be adorable. He only does that if he has done something bad, like flirting (inadvertently or not) with an officemate on a social network site.
But it's not in his character to do that. He thinks I should buy whatever fancies me or curb myself from wanting something if I can't afford it.
I had been praying that he would forget my birthday. Because after greeting me, I know he would do nothing else. And I was right. I hope next year, and the year after that, he would forget. Because it really hurt to know he wasn't willing to exert effort. So I hope to God he forgets next time.
I can't change him. I had been trying to do so for years. I cried in front of him numerous times. I told him plainly that I had been hurt he didn't even try to make my day special or he didn't even save for a gift. But it's been the same every year. So I promised myself not to do that this year. And I didn't.
And there's this thing about him not caring and me wanting to unload my problems to him. You know, typical girl-boy thing. He thinks I have my parents to fix my problems for me and my friends to listen to me. I think he should be the one to do those things. He thinks I won't listen to his opinion anyway. I think he's just making excuses because my problems don't directly concern him. You know, typical.
Even if he wasn't being selfish, at least not intentionally, I think that it will never occur to him that I need him to take care of me. And I appreciate him doing stuff around the house. I really do. I'm grateful because he makes house chores easier for me.
I shouldn't complain. I'm trying not to.
This is where the dilemma sets in, and this is also where I have come up with the solution.
As much as I love him, I don't want to get married to someone who won't go the extra mile for me. He loves me, I know. I don't think he loves anyone else. But he thinks I'm capable so he doesn't bother anymore. And although I promised not to complain, I just can't bring myself to accept that lot.
So I said I won't get married. And it was that at first: just a way to save face.
But after a while (and again, I don't know exactly how long), the idea started to sound more realistic to me. I guess you could say I've warmed up to it. But I don't consider it as accepting just because I gave in. Being not married just started to have more merit. It started to feel right.
I'd be lying if I said abandoning my dreams of a grand and romantic wedding is easy. I still catch myself imagining wearing a wedding gown once in a while. I still pause briefly when I hear Michael Ruff's "More Than You'll Ever Know." Wedding specials on TV still get my attention. Indeed, abandoning my dream to have the grandest, most romantic event in my life isn't easy. But I can do without the gown. I can do without the flowers. Or the songs. Or the dream.
I can do without it all.
Not being married while living with your partner is still frowned upon a bit here, although it wasn't as taboo as before. But that's what I would like to happen. I would like to be with him for the rest of my life but I don't want marriage. I can do without that.
I'm thinking my parents won't approve at first. But they have to. I would make them see that I'm happy being original in our family. They just have to give their blessing.
And he just needs to understand.
081010 3:43am tues
posted by anne at 2:07 AM
Monday, December 22, 2008
book reviewing
I'm not exactly sure what to feel in my new assignment at work. We are required to review two relatively new-released books every month. Not only is that very expensive (books here in the third world country aren't cheap), it is somewhat frustrating for someone who doesn't read the types of books that are expected to be reviewed. Oh and yeah, newly released books here mean at least three months first published in the U.S., and we don't have good library where we can just borrow rather than buy.
I would gladly and willingly and happily review books that span my chosen genre. I could even make a full blown book report for each of the hundreds that I've read. No problem. But to require me to read books that I'm not willing to read... that isn't easy, you know.
I can, of course, choose the book I want to review. But what the clients would want to read about are the books that are popular. And I'm not really into those. Because you see, the popular ones are those controversial memoirs or those chic lits or satires or those heart-wrenching novels. And I avoid those like plagues.
Anyway, I bought this book because first, it's somewhat cheap (compared to newly released hardbounds [this one is a paperback]), and the reviews on the back cover says it's funny.
Only that it's not. Not "hilarious" as they said it is. Relatable, it's what it is. I'm not even halfway through so I'm giving it more time, but so far, I feel that I have already read the whole book.
I can't wait to go back to my own books...
122208 1:10am mon
posted by anne at 12:16 AM
Sunday, November 16, 2008
for all the preachers out there
Would it be all right with you if you're on the other end of the preaching table? Before I say outright that I hate you guys, I'm going to try use a little more tact and say that you don't know what you're doing, instead.
Let me expound on this. I'm sure you have strong opinions about certain things. Example, say... fortune telling. You don't believe in it and you believe in your religion's god (most probably you're Christian, and more specifically Catholic). That's cool. Really, no sarcasm there. It's good that you stand up for something and you truly believe in it.
However, when you preach others about how right you are and how wrong they are, that's when things get "uncool" (borrowing Jennifer Aniston's infamous line). Back to my example. It's fine that you don't believe in fortune telling, but to say others who do or those who practice it are practically evil, then to hell with you!
Have a care if they are bothering you with their "non-sense," as you would probably call it. Have a care if they are starting to preach their belief to you, like what you are doing to them. Otherwise, do not tell them what to believe in. Do not tell them what you think is right, even if it's written thousands of years on stone tablets. Yours is not the only religion there is, you know. They might not concur with the belief that had been implanted on your brain since birth, but at least they also believe in something, and not because they are gullible enough to believe something interesting, but because they feel what they believe in.
I don't believe in men having the right to marry as many wives as he could support, but I don't tell Islams that they have it all wrong.
So let me spell it out for you: R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Have one, it could make a difference.
peta schmeta
While I'm in the subject of preaching and getting all worked up, let me just include this one topic in the fun. What's wrong with those PETA fanatics? It's cool that they support animal rights, but the way that they do it is downright inhuman.
They harass non-supporters and it should be made illegal. Good thing they don't branch out here, or maybe they already did but as I do not read newspapers and watch news, I'm not aware. But anyway, this is what I think: it's good that you guys are looking after animal rights, but the way you do it is as cold-blooded as the animals you protect. People come first, freaks!
Why are you condemning those who eat meat as if it's the most evil thing to do on earth? Wearing fur might anger you, but it keeps others warm. So what if they don't think about the animals being killed just to be worn on humans, it doesn't make them evil. What if the one you're preaching to started preaching you back his religion? After all, the bible did say animals are for our food and for our clothes.
If what bothers you is the process on how animals are killed for our clothes and food, then go after the source. I'm not law-smart, especially in the country in which you are actively harassing people, so I don't know if there's such a law already. But all I'm saying is that there should be a law on how to kill animals as quickly and painless as possible, without the possibility of torture.
Again, respect the people just as much as you respect the animals. I know your reasoning that those people you harass don't need respect as they don't show any to animals by wearing something you think they shouldn't. But, I just hope that every time you do so, harass people I mean, you pay a fine and go to jail for at least 1 year. Get your logic straight.
111708 12:44am mon
posted by anne at 11:40 PM
Saturday, November 15, 2008
I don't get some people.
I really don't. They say they hate getting wet in the rain, so they'd wear something that won't exactly shield them from the dropping liquid, but would just make them feel warmer. And I'm talking about people here in the Pearl of the Orient.
I remember one lady who asked his worthless brother to bring her her "jacket" because it's starting to pour heavily. She was already wearing an office coat, as they call it here in this tropical country of mine. So when that asshole came, the "jacket" was actually a fleece vest. And by vest, I mean the sleeveless kind (is there any other?).
So how was that supposed to shield her from the rain? It would only make her warmer, which, as we all know, isn't necessary at all. Even if the country is on signal no. 3, you won't feel cooler unless you get wet. And that vest would only make her breasts warm.
Not really helpful now, is it?
111508 3am sat
posted by anne at 2:49 AM
Sunday, September 07, 2008
my honesty
It may be the height of hypocrisy for me to say that I don't care a bit if no one ever gets to read this. Well, I don't want this read by my parents, my siblings, my family (immediate or otherwise), my enemies (and there are quite a lot in number), my sworn enemies (1 or 2 or 3 maybe), and those people that I would never dream of speaking with in real life.
But, if I am really honest, of course I would like this to be read. Never mind that I often raise an eyebrow at those who write with extreme false coyness about love and life and everything in between, in hopes that their intended readers (i.e. their crushes) harbor the same feelings as they do, or at least get some comfort or flattery from them. It's not uncommon, you know.
Though I am stepping a little step down from the pedestal I put myself into (yep, that's how I highly value myself), I would say that I sometimes hope for the same thing. Okay, that's not entirely correct. Not sometimes. I don't really hope for it consciously. It's just always at the back of my mind that someday (I'm being generous, I know no one is really reading at the moment) my message would get across.
To whom exactly? Uh... can't really say. Okay fine, I'm saying it. It's my boyfriend; I always hope he would someday. But that's not really possible right now. He's not that sensitive. And he just doesn't give much effort to.
So with all honesty, I want this to be read. Someday, perhaps. But still, I want this read, whenever. Otherwise, I would just mark this blog private, or better yet, I would have entered this into my other one, the real private one. I'm actually making it easy for him. Because If I were him, I would have known by now all my passwords, my life details, my elementary, high school and college grades, the past boys I had (if they indeed just count past one), and everything in between I could possibly unearth about me. And I call that love.
So it's not only hurting my pride to know that he just doesn't care about those things or he just doesn't give an effort to find out anything. Come to think of it, it's not about his effort (or lack thereof), it's his indifference. Yeah, I'm pretty sure his nonchalance attitude is not a pretense in any way. He is just not that interested.
But, as hurtful (I know, "hurtful" doesn't exactly sound scholarly or dignified, it sounds exactly like a word those people I love to hate use often) as it is, can't really do anything about it. Oh no, it's not that I didn't try anything at all. I tried to make him understand. Believe me, I did. At first I tried the "hurt" look, which isn't really that hard to emulate because it really did hurt, but that got no where. He couldn't see it; he thought I was just being difficult. So I tried being difficult. Needless to say, it didn't work.
So the only thing left to do was to be honest and sincere. And boy did it got me no where as well! Talk about insensitive boyfriends!
my plan that isn't really a plan
Therefore, I present to you all... my plan.
Not exactly a plan in the truest sense of the word. But it did require planning so might as well call it a plan. It's my "what if plan."
This may sound like a bad film/TV/novel plot in the late 80s and early 90s but just in case it happens to me, then I fervently hope God would be kind enough to let the course of events flow according to the storyline I created for myself. Just in case I acquire amnesia.
It's not really impossible, just improbable. At least I can safely say that I know a friend that had amnesia. And it's true! Not that I'm rejoicing of her so-called misfortune but I swear my face lit up upon listening to her narrate what happened. Wow! I actually know someone who had amnesia! Not everyone can say that, you know.
But I digress. Now for my "what if plan." What if I had that condition. Of course, like my friend, mine would also be retrograde and just selective. Not everything had to be temporarily forgotten. Of course it's just temporary, I wouldn't want it to be permanent unless it's that awful, awful period of my life. But it's not. It's my created plot line so it's not.
There's drama of course. If I had to erase that particular period, then it wouldn't be drama. It would be fairy tale. It would be close to perfection. So it's not.
What I would forget is the happy one I had with him. Oh surely I would remember him. But my memory would only allow the part when we were just a very new (and official) couple. Why? Because it's my story (idiots)!
Then what I would know of him is that he is everything that I ever wanted and loved. But I'm still tormented by the fresh memory of my past before him, meaning, my dreadful, dreadful ex and my horrible, horrible life with him. Now why would I create a drama so close to the truth. Because, I realize that no matter how much I wanted that part erased from my life, not just from my memory, forever, it just won't simply go away. It's there. And as much as I loathe it, it's there. And there isn't anything that comes close to hurting me and tormenting me as much as that did and still does.
So I'm leaving it there. And I'm leaving it fresh. Then I'll temporarily erase the blissful one that followed.
why?
So that I would know if he's really the one. I know I want him and love him and I need him, but I just need him because I want him and love him. But is he really the one for me, after knowing that he just doesn't care?
Now onto my story. To make it more realistic, I'm patterning it to my friend's. I would remember him vividly as if it was just yesterday that we officially became a couple, but I would remember just so little after that. I would remember my work, or at least how I do it everyday, but not so much as the people around it. I would remember my family, of course, but I would remember just so little about "the other him" beyond the couple of years he became alive.
I can't get out of this relationship now. I'm buried deeply in it already. I don't have the heart, the courage, nor the will to do so. I think, as much as I hate the nagging feeling that I don't want to be in a relationship like this, I can't live without him. It's that simple.
But if I were to erase the memories after that (I can't erase it completely because he came to my life while I was still with the awful, awful ex and I can't erase the ex) then maybe if he's not the one, I could still get out.
So if I were to have that memory condition, then I would need to read this blog. Then I would know that he is not the perfect man I have always dreamed of. The one who is sensitive to my feelings, and protective of me, and who would love the other him as much as he have to. I would show him this. And I would show it with a comparatively detached feeling than I would have if I showed this to him now.
Then I'll decide.
090708 sun 2:06am
posted by anne at 12:40 AM
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
OMG! Oh, I'm sorry. Forgive me for being one with my generation in the way I express my astonishment, but I cannot, for the very life of me, express it in any other way.
OMG! What the?!
This is freaking... accurate! And by accurate I mean really correct and supposedly unsurprising but as it turns out, shocking because stupidity took over the medical system of this country and gave me a very different and dissenting opinion.
HELL!!!
And to think I still have the I-hate-stupid-people post in my draft folder. I knew I should have finished writing it and publish it. Now it would seem anti-climatic to finish it.
Calm down. I already know I don't have the fondest respect for the medical professionals here in my oh-so-beloved country but this is just incredible! And by that last word I mean really, really astonishing in a very, very negative way.
How can I say this without revealing too much? Shoot! This is the problem with the "mystery" story I had unwittingly signed up for. But for the purpose of chronicling my thoughts, here's a uhm... a clue to work as a guide.
In NBC's (and now ABC) sitcom Scubs' 118th episode (or so according to my ever dependable wikipedia), or otherwise known as the first episode of the 6th season, there's a scene wherein JD was talking to his friends Turk, Carla, and Elliot. He was asking them not to laugh before he shared what really happened between him and his now-pregnant girlfriend Dr. Kim Briggs. Needless to say, it's what I always knew for a fact. And by always I mean since learning this lesson the hard way about 6 years ago.
What troubles me is that I was led to believe that it was, as that contemptuous doctor had told me, "virtually impossible." And I therefore harbored some false hope and clung to it until my last dying breath. It was, for a lack of a better word, painful to hope and accept later on.
It bothers me that after learning they were all wrong and seemed unwilling to challenge what their textbooks had told them as opposed to what their patients had been telling them (by the way, aside from the classmate/friend's friend's friend, my friend had also admitted to experiencing the very unconventional way), that medical fallacy is just limited to the so-called pearl of the orient. The Western variety apparently thinks it's possible.
And that is what I'm OMGing about.
082708 7:10am wed
posted by anne at 6:22 AM
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
can't sleep
I need to.
It's late.
I have to wake up really early tomorrow.
I mean later.
I would regret staying up this late.
I know.
Hell.
This is frustrating.
I value rest.
I value sleep.
And I'm not getting any.
My stomach rumbles.
I'm days away from ulcer scare.
I know.
I can feel it.
I must close my eyes.
Must sleep.
Must throw this ugly throw pillow from an ugly person.
Why is it still here?
I threw it away years ago.
Must kiss Garfield and Ernie goodnight.
I really need to sleep.
I wanna read my cheesy novels.
Must take a vacation.
Alone.
And invent drama in my head.
Just to cry.
And laugh.
I want my old life back.
When I was 16.
When I used to create drama, not live it.
My stomach really hurts.
I'm gonna regret staying up and not eating tomorrow.
I wanna feel what it's like to faint.
And be physically helpless.
But nothing about stomach ache and limbs or body parts missing.
I just want to feel like a damsel in distress.
Physical distress.
Something really feminine.
Like faint heart.
But not permanently.
Just for a touch of drama.
And (yeah, fine) attention.
Tummy issues aside, I'm really, really fit.
And sometimes I wish I'm not.
Oh oh.
Split ends.
Guess I have to cut them now.
How long has it been since the last time?
No idea.
I just know this is the longest length I have had the patience to grow them.
Hope it'll rain tomorrow.
Love rain.
Love storm.
Love free time.
I've forgotten I used to be nocturnal.
Especially during summer vacations.
That is, when I was still in school.
I missed it.
I really, really miss it.
Just look at the pile I've made.
Of hair.
My hair.
Those dead ones that feel itchy when pulled.
Love doing that.
Gotta look for the increasing white population.
Must not tie hair when wet anymore.
Gotta go.
Need to feign sleep.
Night.
080508 tue 12:38am
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