...une femme seule.
Entries for May, 2006
May 2nd, 2006
Last Sunday, we held a belated birthday celebration for my bestest friend, Michiko, at the studio. Nothing extravagant, just the good old traditional birthday fare, an un-updated version of Magic Sing, minimal alcohol, and lots and lots of love.
I love you so much, best friend! Thank you for always looking out for me and guarding my heart and sanity. You are my source of strength and encouragement, one of the very few people I can be completely honest with, the guardian of my tears. Life hasn't been easy, but God knows my life would've been so much messier if not for you. So chummy, I know, but whenever everything comes crashing down, I remember that I still have you, and I realize: I'm still so blessed, after all. The best of everything for my dearest!
* * * * * * * * * *
Watched Silent Hill last night. Not naman extremely horrible, but not good either.
Because for a movie named as it was, it was annoyingly chatty.
* * * * * * * * * *
There's so much uncertainty, and at the same time, so much promise. Did I make the right decision when I gave up law school? I hope to God I did. I prayed about it, I really did, and giving up the prestige of UP Law for the opportunity of international travel and a life as an educator felt like a relief. One thing's for sure, the landscape before me is vast, there are so many options.
That is, most definitely, a frazzling thought.
* * * * * * * * * *
There's so much to consider and ponder on in my life right now, it's quite impossible to say, really, where I should start. Right now, it's already quite a struggle just finding my center, or at least keeping it all together. This becomes particularly true when you don't even know for sure which factors really matter and which you should just let go of.
Currently in the process of guarding my heart. No easy feat, takes up too much time just for rationalization, it's making me sick. Besides, it's so easy to stumble, I feel like I literally need to hold on to a pole or a rock to keep myself standing.
And then there's this business of trying to be a better, proper person. I keep on saying, God must really think I'm not patient enough, because He keeps on testing me, sending me things designed to throw me over the edge. Again, trying to keep calm and stay on line takes so much effort, so much breathing in and out (I should try doing pilates simultaneously, it would probably work wonders) I always feel like I'm about to hyperventilate. I can't really decide if it's something that gets easier over time. All I know is that I want to regret nothing. I know my heart, my loves, my deepest convictions.
When the time for me to go arrives, I want to look back and say that I've been true to the things my heart treasured most.
* * * * * * * * * *
Snow Cherries from France
Tori Amos
I knew a boy who would
Not share his bike
Oh, but he let me go sailing
I swore that I
Could survive any storm
Oh then he let me go
"Can you launch rockets from here?"
Boy, I've done it for years
Right over my head
And when I promised my hand
He promised me back
Snow cherries from France
All that summer
We traveled the world
Never leaving his own back garden
Girls, I didn't know
Just what it could be
Oh, but he let me go sailing
You question me,
"Can you ride anything?"
Lord, do you mean like your mood swings
Invaders and traders with
The best intentions
May convince you to go
"They look like pirates from here"
Boy, I've been one for years
Just keeping my head
And when I promised my hand
You promised me back
Snow cherries from France
And then one day he said
"Girl it's been nice,
Oh, but I have to go sailing"
With cinnamon lips
That did not match his eyes
Oh then he let me go
Posted by petit_secousse at 03:59 PM |
May 4th, 2006
Coming Clean
I have forgiven you your past, even the fairly recent, the one with visible stains, that one which threatened to put me at risk. In fact, I think its consequences have already touched me, not very drastically, but causing enough discomfort nonetheless to send off the alarms in my system.
This first offense, I do not take against you or myself; we were merely friends, nothing more, at the violative moment. If you were to repeat that today, with all we have set up for ourselves, the repercussions would be much graver.
But now, come into my arms, with all your flaws and brokenness, with your past sins and insecurities. There is nothing you have done which I cannot accept, no tears I would not be willing to kiss away. You shield your face away with shame and fear, but I tell you there is nothing to be afraid of. Confess everything, there will be absolution, penance has been made.
Come to me tainted, if that's what you are today and nothing more. But come to me with the desire for a rebirth. We will heal.
Right now, all I ask of you is the absolute confidence of one who knows he will never be rejected, despite anything and everything, by the girl whose hand he holds.
Posted by petit_secousse at 12:01 AM |
May 5th, 2006
This Business of Moving On
Yes, perhaps I should shut up, but I was never really very gifted in that area, as evidenced by tangles I've gotten myself into, at work and elsewhere. But really, beyond my lack of discipline is really just an earnest desire to be understood. Really.
It is useless to gripe about that certain someone who has supposedly "taken your place," because truth be told, it isn't like that at all right now. The situation is a lot more complicated than it looks. But that is not my point.
It frustrates me that it has come to this. It frustrates me to know that you are frustrated. Because really, when I think about it, I can't explain the cause that has turned into this effect. I was never certain about a certain decision made in August of last year, to begin with. Strong resistance from you would've easily be met by a yielding; you know how I could never keep my guard up with you for long.
And now I can't help but map out our histories, the moments we created and the passion with which they were formed. And I remember that time you first tried to break up our connection: "This is it. I'm letting go." Brought about, or at least encouraged, by a stupid episode with a stupider ex via SMS. I remember how I was shaken up with disbelief, because no, I couldn't understand. We loved each other, didn't we? Didn't we?
And now these memories flash back like snippets from a movie like you wouldn't believe, and I don't know if I should try to chase them or shoo them away, because how many times have I cried myself to sleep over you? And still I would accept you, over and over again take you in, and this is no condescending boast. It's me just loving you over and over again, and more with each time, so much, too much I didn't know I had it in me. I would leave my friends just to be with you, but you know it didn't matter, because you were all that did, and besides, they understood, and they still do. And how many times did I just want to leap into your arms, like that other night you brought that piece of paper to the studio, but the affection in me trembled to see such cold, forbidding eyes.
And you know you could have taken me if you really wanted to, I was only waiting.
And sure, he's a good person, he really is, he's been so kind to me, he was so many things I needed when I needed them, but it's not a matter of comparison, especially if you judge from the way I respond to him. Because more than anything else, it is the way I choose to act, just as it was how I chose to act toward you.
And I just wish I could make you see the truth, make you understand what the real score is today. That is, if it's possible. Then again, perhaps it's much better this way, because despite my endless blabbering, there's just so so much you don't know about me, which is, probably, all for the best anyway. Because I never knew when or how I was ever going to be good enough for you, and you have no idea just how desperately I wanted to be. And I'm starting to come to terms with the probability that I never will be so what's the difference.
But this is me, and this is me now, and god how I wish you could see me.
Posted by petit_secousse at 05:21 AM |
May 9th, 2006
Musings sans the cigs, with wine glass in hand
LOST
I still get that uncomfortable pit in my stomach when I remember how that lengthy entry I wrote last Saturday disappeared with the click of a mouse. My mom closed the window, not knowing I had an unsaved entry right there.
There's no way the thoughts in that entry could ever be reproduced exactly, even as I may try to recount the same stories at this moment, because every moment is its own, irreplacable. I suppose that's why I feel that sinking in my gut each time, a regret for the loss of a moment. And I know it looks as if I'm romanticizing what is nothing more than a trivial moment, and well, depending on who you are, that's probably true anyway so what's the use in sulking?
TREASURE HUNTING
I spent last Saturday figuring out four different routes, one for every team, and figuring out the coordinates of supposedly "unknown" points. I've almost forgotten how fun orienteering can be, but I guess this one's not that much of a challenge, considering the terrain, which is as big as the Makati branch of my alma mater can be.
All of this started out as a favor for a friend, that physical educator who's always wanted to teach anthropology and ended up teaching his students not to listen to Machiavelli instead (well, he only did that today, during "processing"
. Anyway, since I didn't have work this afternoon, I ended up helping out all the way to the implementation stage (and almost got involved, God forbid and thanks to Pat, in the processing). Hence, not much sleep (from working on the markers and written clues til the wee hours of Monday morning), and a lot of running around this noon, under the scorching sun, posting markers for the "unknown" points.
It was fun, to be sure. Of course, there was the added bonus of watching Mac and Alan in action, witnessing them teach and fumble for words in front of their precocious students. Anyway, the kids thought I was a new teacher, but I guess their creative minds figured something else out when they realized I wasn't a member of the faculty and wasn't about to become one. Oh well. Who says kids these days aren't smart, huh?
Then again, knowing what their guess would be, they'd still be wrong. Ha!
ULTIMATUM
All of a sudden, I'm no longer so sure. Do I love you? Yes. I care about you so much, and if it still hasn't become evident by now, then just go shoot me because I don't suppose I'll ever be able to express it in this lifetime. You know I care. Perhaps you aren't quite certain just how much, or how little, but you know it's there, and besides decisions can be made to fill in all those little gaps where you might find a lacking.
Do I enjoy being with you? Oh yes, I love my time with you. I treasure our moments, and the comfortable way with which we relate; it seems everything comes so naturally, and it's all wonderful. But dear, perhaps this is too close for comfort, don't you think? I'm not like some promo product ("as seen on TV!" that can be tested before selection. I don't say this with resentment, don't get me wrong. It's just that I don't think it right for us to be both taking advantage of a situation of closeness without intention of a follow-through. There's no point in nurturing these feelings without a more stable perspective. Let's not fool each other.
Do I want you to take your time? Sure, of course. Just don't take all of mine, because I've got my heart to protect, and my sanity to keep. I don't mean to say you should decide now, because goodness knows I'm not in such a perfect place myself. I just want you to be aware: I'm not sticking around forever, because I've got other dreams to chase, and I won't throw them away just because I couldn't wing this one.
Don't get me wrong, though, I'm not nagging. I hate having to nag, so I avoid situations which encourage me to, or I just bite my lip until it bleeds. And you know I haven't been bringing these things up -- you've heard nothing about this at all from me since we last spoke (briefly) about such possibilities. And no, until I feel it absolutely necessary, you won't hear from me about this. But yes, my darling, I will leave, one day, when I've decided it pointless to keep at this game.
Today, I show you all the affection I can afford to, taking care of you, holding your hand at every breath, soothing away even unconscious tremblings. I will regret none of this. But one day, my dear, if all proves to simply be fleeting, I shall have to let go of your hand, so sadly, I shall. And you will hear nothing from me, just as I keep silent before you today and smile at your inquisitions.
And yes, then you'll be left with the memory of how I loved you, knowing fully well that it existed, but that you shall no longer be overwhelmed by it.
A date, darling, and precise, despite the fact that it remains unnamed for you. I dread its arrival but I hold on to myself and its necessity. I can only hope you reach your epiphany (if it comes) before then.
"I will lay down my heart,
And I'll feel the power,
But you won't.
'Cause I can't make you love me
If you don't."
EMBRACED
Sadness is such a convenient excuse for indulgence. I don't care. Now that I'm done, I'm off for a glass of wine, alone. Alone. Wine with cheese? Champagne with cake?
When you need warmth, sometimes the only place to find it is in yourself. I miss my lover in me.
Posted by petit_secousse at 02:09 AM |
May 10th, 2006
Words Get In the Way
At syempre, supalpal ako, with only a text message:
Him: Bakit sa tingin mo di kta love? Pasenti ka nman e
My jaw dropped, and then I couldn't help but smile.
Me: Ewan ko, wala ka namang sinasabi eh. Mahirap nang mag-assume.
Him: Kc nman words get in d way e
Me: (incredulously) Nyar. Magic Sing lang pala katapat mo.
Him: Sige na, hindi ko na mapaputi yung nilalabhan ko...magpahinga ka na to prepare for work at lagi kang magiingat.
This was the first time he's ever told me, albeit indirectly, about how he feels about me. It's not very romantic, I know, but when he asked, "sa tingin mo di kta love?" I stopped in my tracks to really think. Many times, I've fallen for men who knew the right words to say, who could eloquently draw me in with elegant proclamations of desire and devotion. Over and over I fell in love with those words, held on to them tight as if they would never disappear, as if they guaranteed my safety. Today, those words have been replaced by other statements: less sweet, cruel, even. And what other testament to past loves do I have aside from those words, now gone in the mist? Not very much, now that I think about it.
But here is this man, who so rarely says what I need to hear, who has not wooed me with a declaration to beat all others. He is no writer, he is unable to tease words and mold them into glittering offerings. I yearn for these, thinking that perhaps they could serve as assurances, but I am left with silence. And yet, he is always there for me, taking the time to look into my eyes as I tell him about my day. I've never received roses, but he gifts me with "house things": a hanging organizer, hand wash, a shoe bag. He holds me close for a few extra seconds before letting me go after a combination in dance class, stays another half hour in the reception area before leaving me when he brings me to the office. Every morning, I am awakened by his call, and an SMS: "Wake up angel!" Every time I'm in a mess, I call him and he's always there without even a peep of a complaint. The morning after Michiko's birthday celebration (where our group decided to sleep in, with the boys on the dance floor and the girls huddled upstairs in my room), I was awakened, and I secretly smiled as he sat beside me, stroked my hair and held me close to himself, thinking I was still asleep.
So yes, I deserved today's remark. In a way, I feel ashamed and guilty for asking for more when all the signs were there all this time, when he's exerted so much effort to make me feel cared about. No, he can't play with words the way I was used to them being used, but the concern and affection from him is more real than any of those ephemeral things. Today, I'm still not raising my hopes, and the ultimatum still stands, but I trust him more. I am beginning to understand the futility of waiting for words, when all I wanted was the person.
Please be for real.
Posted by petit_secousse at 12:46 AM |
May 23rd, 2006
As I sip my glassful of overpriced milk...
...and listen to Kula Shaker's Shower Your Love on Me, I wonder why Sven can't bring me German snow in the middle of summer. He's going to be on vacation in Bremen from Friday to sometime in September and he said take care, so I asked for German air. Or snow in the middle of summer. He replied in his best German accent via SMS, "wala eh." And he finally agreed when I declared, "Magic!" And perhaps he will bring me German snow in the middle of summer.
And my mother's going on a trip, too. Arizona. A make-or-break deal, so I told her to make it. No, I don't mean it has to be contrived, I just mean we all make decisions and if we want something enough, we should make the right decisions to help us get it. Paulo Coelho said something about the entire universe conspiring to help you get something you really desire. I say you should be in on the entire conspiracy.
So I'm staring at my (imitation) tupperware-full of what they on the 11th floor call carbonara. I can't eat this muck. I'm so malnourished, and I'm not even as thin as I want to be. So I take another sip of full cream milk, forty-five frigging bucks, thank you very much. I value my health.
And now Marry Me Jane goes:
I got your message couldn't call you back/ I was busy gettin' you off my mind/ I saw your girlfriend/ I think she thinks I want you back/ God you surely take your time/ I don't want to be in your fantasy/ I wish you'd move to China or the moon/ Positive/ Capital P/ Positive/ You don't belong to me/ I'm kinda scattered like the pieces of a puzzle/ But our pieces never seem to fit/ And I talk to the mirror looking deep into my eyes/ But I only see this/ I don't want to be in your diary/ I didn't mean it when I wished you away/ Positive/ Capital P/ Positive/ You were meant to be /You're the reason the stars always shine and/ I believed you when you said you'd always always be mine/ I heard a rumor that you still talk about me makes/ Me wanna cry and I like your girlfriend she could/ Almost be my sister damn I wanna die/ Don't wanna be in your fantasy/ I wish you'd move to China or the moon/ Positive /Capital P/ Positive/ You were meant for me..."
And I don't understand where this feeling of "relating" is coming from, because I don't even know why it strikes a chord and I don't know why it feels so familiar and I don't know who I would even mean it for. Or maybe it's just because I'm in denial.
I'm really supposed to be finishing reports now. I still have eight to go.
And now, Marry Me Jane croons another number:
You didn't kiss me how can I fall asleep?
I know you're there, but don't pick up cause I'll say everything
I know you don't care, you made that clear enough as I was leaving
I took your favorite overcoat, just wanted to return it
I know it's late, you're probably out, that's what you wanted anyway
I know how you hate it when I get too loud, but John you know I'm crazy
I'm wrapped around your favorite overcoat, don't think I can return it
You didn't kiss me
How can I fall asleep?
You didn't wish me very well
To say the least
Do you miss me?
If you said so should I believe you?
You didn't kiss me..
Hate your laugh, hate your lies, hate the chance I took on you
Hate the past in your eyes, hate the war you put me through
Hate myself for believing this could come to anything at all
I'm wrapped around your favorite overcoat
Don't think I can return it
How can I fall asleep?
You didn't wish me very well
To say the least
Do you miss me?
If you said so should I believe you?
You didn't kiss me
I'm sinking. I've sunk.
My last words were: "Uh oh." (For the record, posterity being an essential.)
This sounds like the stuff of oh-so-melodrama and it probably is. But when you're floating, floating, floating, it isn't easy to get a hold. You'd have to look like Audrey Tautou to make this look pretty.
And now, back to making a living.
(The milk wasn't even cold, good grief.)
Posted by petit_secousse at 03:05 AM |
May 29th, 2006
"It feels great, actually."
May 28, 2006.
That look told me there was something on your mind, and sure enough, there was. You held me close, we considered both the apprehensions and the possibilities for a few moments. It soon became clear, we are not each other's past; we both deserve the chance.
Thank you for giving me new breath. I love you, Alan.
Posted by petit_secousse at 02:23 PM |
May 31st, 2006
"Life is difficult, but it is beautiful."
I know I've said this many times before, but my strengthening attachment with some of my students is most undeniable.
Tears actually formed in my eyes today as one of my dearest told me about an motoring accident his eldest son met while vacationing in Thailand. Limbs broken, the son had to undergo an operation during the weekend. Now this learner of mine is a very loving father who declares his family, especially his kids, his religion. This is the same man who keeps calling his youngest daughter his "beautiful star." I could hear the worry in his voice; it was heart-wrenching.
He says his son might be disabled for about half a year. He doesn't even know when exactly his son can return home to France. His voice started to break, but I could almost see him struggling to muster a smile as he said: "Life is difficult, but it is beautiful, right, Noelle?"
Imagine that scene from Amelie where she melts and collapses into a water puddle. That's exactly how I felt.
*sniff*
And here comes the part where I just want to hug him and say. "Your son's going to be fine! It's all a joke, he's perfectly all right!"
Then again, I suppose these are the moments when he feels most blessed, because of the precious treasures he's been given. And, after all, his son is out of danger now.
Now I understand what my boss was telling me about the sincerity of the French. It might not be so easy to get through to them, but when you do, they can the most steadfast people you will meet.
My learner and I proceeded to discuss an article on anti-social behavior in Europe, which quickly turned into a discussion on religious intolerance and the economic wars. This is not the good way to live life, he told me. It is difficult, but we need to change. My religion is my family, my children.
And we agreed: We construct our reality. Our personal decisions make all the difference.
It's been a long time since I was so inspired. Thank you, thank you so much, F.M.
Posted by petit_secousse at 12:57 AM |
June 1st, 2006
Testing the waters (unsent letter, as usual)
A sepia print of our bright smiles is secured by a photoclip on my desk. I stare at it all day: while explaining past perfect continuous to my learners, while listening to jazz tunes during my thirty-minute break (now 19-minute, as I type).
It always a bit jarring, this experience of adjusting to a new relationship. There is more sweetness, definitely (asan ang hugs and kisses ko? luv yah!), more mundane exchanges, even (kumain ka na? palitan mo na yang dance tights mong puro butas, one hundred lang naman pala eh...). There is more involvement in each other's lives, more freedom to show our unpleasantness (oy, umamin ka, nagsusungit ka kanina!), and more freedom to demonstrate concern and affection.
I'm afraid. This is all making me so afraid, because it's a nice start, but I don't know how long it will last. Call me paranoid, but I've been through enough. I've earned the right to say, "Tama na, no more games."
And I know, honey, that you're not here to play games either. It's just that everytime I'm alone in these unholy hours, my mind wanders into scary places, remembering where I've been before, and wondering, so I wonder what the worst case scenario is?
But I trust in you, I respect you, I know you're sensible and practical, despite fleeting moods and spur-of-the-moment impulses.
So take me out of these dark places, and cover me. Look into my eyes and tell me again. Silence these uncertainties.
I lay on your lap this afternoon, my eyes closed. You stroked my hair, your palm gently grazing my forehead. You told me about something which has been bothering for sometime, something worrying you a bit more recently. I held your hand. We'll get through this.
Now if only I can stop missing you all the freaking time...
Posted by petit_secousse at 02:07 AM |
