Tag Archives: life

Do Not Read This

I’m going to tire you with another story.

My day starts at 10:30 AM. I wake up feeling no energy for a person who just had sleep. Then I cook food out of the can. And I step into the shower, putting on some music that might perk up my mood. By 12 PM, I need to go to work.

At work is not a different story. I’m not allowed to talk about my job except that it is incredibly stressful. Well, most jobs are, but mine is made worse by the fact that I don’t have an inch of interest in what I am doing.  There is too much pressure for such a routinary work. My sole motivation is money. So at work in order to save myself from suicide, I drink a lot of coffee, read a book, tweet a lot and sometimes write this blog. By 10PM, I should be off home feeling like I have wasted another day of my life.

What happens between 10 PM and 10:30 PM is a struggle far harder to overcome. The moment I get home, all my body wants to do is to throw itself on my bed. It is automatic at each sight of my bed. I drink a glass of milk knowing that is is the only healthy diet I could get. Lay on my bed and start to think. Now, this is where I get defeated.

My thoughts are too heavy for my head that when I’m lying awake on my bed it all flows down to my heart like a stream of deadly liquid that slowly eats up every warm feeling that was stored in me. The strength I have conjured the whole day gets drained by the negativity of those thoughts. I fall weak, and my bed is there to catch me. It is convenient. I’ll live again for another day.

I’m tired of this endless loop of failure I call my life.

I want to do something I truly want. When I was small, I wanted to be a scientist. When I was in grade school, I wanted to be a broadcast journalist. When I was in high school, I wanted to be a writer. When I was in college, I forgot everything that I have ever wanted in the past. And now, I’m back to wanting to have something that I really want.

The reason why I’m writing this is to throw it out to the universe without causing much negative vibes. Whereas if I say this out loud or to a specific person, it might be more contagious. The world could use a little less bullshit than what it is already taking. And besides, I have nobody to talk to.

I am lonely, I admit. My friends are having babies, getting married, dating, and I am here producing senseless ramblings. My best friends especially, they talk to me about their boyfriends, it is painful to listen that I just kind of drifted away not just from those conversations but also from them. Communicating with other people is where I fail the worst. My father would put on James Bond films intentionally to initiate a conversation with me. My mother does the same but uses my dog. I moved out when I was 19 and eventually forgot where home exactly is. If you live alone, it is lonesome.

There are some people whom I feel that are trying to reach out and maintain a relationship with me. These people share a lot of common interest and it is fairly easy for me to blend in with them. We occasionally watch movies and discuss them. We had Game of Thrones viewing party and criticized everything. We went to gigs and drunk a bottle of flavored beer. It sounds fun, but I’m tired of having that kind of fun.

I’m 24, does not have a stable job, does not know what I want and does not have anyone I truly trust. I only open up to people when I’m in front of my monitor and if I do, I immediately regret it after. I am good with saying things as long as I know that I am saying it to no one in particular or to strangers I’m never going to meet again. There is a wall between me and the world. And all I do is throw words at that wall hoping someone will pass by and assume that they understand me. That wall also gives me an uncomfortable safety, just like the comfort I get from  my bed.

My head is heavy. I pull my chair back. Sway it around. Sip a dose of coffee. Pick up Charles Bukowski’s Ham on Rye. Try to write. And write. And write. And write. And I’m tired.

Hell is Other People

In the depth of that night, while the sun was sleeping, she was like the moon; part of her was shining and part of her was in terrible sorrow. It is hard to smile when half you is dying. There were noises in the quite night.  The thoughts that people let go before they sleep hung in chaos in the air.  The weights of these thoughts were weighing her down.

Ana worships Sartre and she can’t decide whether his genius has made or broke her life. At 23 she is familiar to the death that someone must constantly live in order to experience life; the emotions, the words, the feelings, the time and circumstances that pass only once.  The people who must make the society, they break it instead.

The whole world is a circle, revolving and whirling.  She is trapped inside, nauseous and wanting to get out.  Sometimes when the world slows down she would watch as it turns, witnessing and grieving.  She watches the world and the world never did the same.

She remembered her friends and how they all smile in every photo of them that were etched in her memory. Her friends who’s been with her through all the happy moments, were never there when she was crying in front of a blank word document. Loneliness is a room, closed and locked.  Her friends did not try to barge in. Nobody kicked the door except her. She always has to save herself when she’s in need. And she saves her friends too, when they’re in need.

“Please come with us, it is happier when you’re around.”

How selfish is that remark?

They’re only happy when she’s around because they have someone to laugh about. Her social skills may be awkward but she’s real. She never wanted to hurt people.  Words for her are precious. She won’t make a person feel bad with something that makes her feel good.  Her friends needed to laugh, they laughed at her, but she never laughed along with them.

She needed to runaway and search for a place inside her soul. That place where she could sit silently and be herself;  a place where happiness can’t be found inside a bottle, a place where men does not exist to dominate her feelings. Her friends had poured her with too much of their selves and all of them were stored inside her. She’s a glass full of other people’s frustration, insecurities, disappointments and pain.

Ana packed the dvds, she watched those films till some of the scenes happened in her life; the cds, she listened to them till half of her brain became a portable storage of hundred of those songs;  the band shirts, she wore them to every concert that robbed her. She packed the memories placed it inside a box and burned them. The fire blazed as if it was laughing and mocking her for those times she gave herself to others. For a moment she wanted to jump into the fire. But no, the fire is other people; they burn your true self reducing you to worthless ashes of what has been their own invented puppet.

To hell with them.

Romantic Films Allegedly Ruined My Life

When reports surfaced about Richard Linklater, Ethan Hawke and Julie Deply making a film called Before Midnight, I was probably the happiest person on Earth.

I fell in love with Before Sunrise.  I cried during Before Sunset.  And by cried I meant, sobbing uncontrollably for ten minutes.  My tears started to swell on the part where Celine  broke down.  When she hugged Jesse while saying “I want to see if you stay together or if you dissolve into molecules.” I was already bawling my eyes out.  Two people shamelessly declaring their love for each other is enough for the my tears to flood. These two films hold the dearest in my heart being intensely written and naturally acted. But this would take another journal.


For years, romantic films are like my own french fries, they bring me comfort every time.  Serendipity is probably the movie that ruined my high school romantic life.  When I liked a guy, I would ask for signs.  And basing on the signs that I was looking for, I already had three soul mates.  And then I stopped believing in it. As you grow up, you’ll eventually realize which things to hold on to and to let go. The only thing I held on to about this movie is the Nick Drake song.

And who could forget A Walk to Remember?  I never told anyone this story before but I came to a point in life, when I told someone “Promise me, you’ll never fell in love with me.”  That was after a guy I liked made a habit of visiting me between classes in high school. And that guy has a little bit of Landon Carter in him. We eventually dated and broke up after graduation. And while he remained as the person I consider my high school love, he is already married. Maybe life is like that, it brings you people who would make you look back one day and smile because of embarrassment.

My So-Called Life also played a huge role in my so-called life.  My notebooks would  contain quotes from Angela Chase.  Lines like “Life is a prison and the crime is how much we hate ourselves.” If we count the years, Jared Leto would be my longest crush but look at the man, he doesn’t age. I sometimes would look at him with the same teenage eyes and tell myself, some things does not change.

Perhaps the craziest obsession I had with a film is with 500 Days of Summer.  Apart from the lovely template Marc Webb created for the movie, the awesome music, Joseph Gordon Levitt’s charming smile and Zooey Deschanel’s beautiful dresses, the story of a hippie love appeals to a commitment phobic romanticist, like me.  My friend would tell me that the movie has changed into “5,000 Days of Summer” because of the number of times I watched it.  I could recite the lines along with all the scene sequence in perfection (yes, try me). I never really learned a thing about this movie, only that love oftentimes end in a Sid Viscious-Nancy Spungen way and love makes you dance to a Hall and Oates song.

If I was a character in a romantic film, I think I would be Katarina Stratford in 10 Things I Hate About You. Although I have yet to pull off that sarcastic “I want you. I need you. Oh baby. Oh baby.” in front of a self aware, curly haired stunner. I have mastered the smart-ass, socially relevant feminisms that she perfected on the film.  I also want to have my own Patrick Verona who would give me a Fender  Strat every time he screws up.  Among all of these things our most common denominator would be no matter how unbreakable we think our principles are, they always get broken by some charming guy who can sweep us off our feet with a song.

My friends blame these movies for my lack of real life romance.  I’d like to think that the screen romance in my life is enough to compensate the lack of real life romance. Besides,I can have a romantic relationship with Joseph Gordon Levitt without him breaking up with me.  And if he does, it would be easier to take.

Maybe I’m like Summer before she met Tom, who marvels at the fact that she can cut her hair without getting hurt.  Or maybe I’m just like Celine and Jesse waiting for a second chance with the one who got away. I’m just another  hopeless romantic whose delusions about love is not yet diluted  by the acid of realities. My blockbuster love story is yet to be penned and for sure it would be like no other film ever made,  because it’s going to be real.