Not Today

You appeared out of nowhere. You saw me, and I saw you. But I won't let you ruin my day. Not today.

I love my baby. And he loves me. You don't love me. You pushed me away. And I won't let you anger me by making me remember. Not today.

We still could have been friends. If I never told you that I liked you. If you never panicked and messed us up. But I won't let you worry me with regrets. Nope, my boy. Not today.

You've let go of what I revere - our friendship. You didn't care about me or our memories. But I won't let you bring me down with shame and sadness. Not today.

You still look well. I remember showing your pic to my mom. And she disagreed about "us" because you were better looking than me. You're good-looking, true, but I don't envy you because something inside you is rotten. I won't let you strip my confidence. Not today.

I won't let you get into me. Not today.

I won't think and dwell about you. Nope. Not today.

Because today, I'm loving myself more.

Today, I want to think of happy things. I won't focus on the things which are wrong - which, in summary, is YOU.

Today is my day.

Today, I saw you and you saw me. But I won't let you ruin my day. Today is our 8th monthsary.

I saw you, and you saw me. But I won't let you ruin my day. Not today.

Today is my day.

Some other time, it could have been yours, but today is today. Your time has passed.

Today is our day.

I Can Die Right Now

STOP!

I just want to take a break from all the drama and simply take the time to appreciate the good things that are happening in my life right now.

Thank you everyone. I guess you've all been part of who I am right now. I was right when I decided to get to know myself for real. To explore the other side... Now, I feel complete. I feel whole. I've accepted who I am, and with that comes a certain sense of well-being I've never felt before. Thank you for accepting me for who I am though I know it might have been a bit hard to digest for some of you. I'm finally free and I'm very happy.

The biggest thanks to my baby. I'm probably the luckiest guy in the world to have ever crossed paths with you, considering that quality relationships with our kind are very hard to come by. I still can't believe what you've done to my life. You've rescued me from my own dark tendencies, and brought me more than I could ever ask for. We've been through rough times baby, you and I, and words cannot express how happy I am that we've made it through. I'll never get tired of kissing you or hugging you or telling you that I love you because I really do and I'm overflowing with the feeling. Thank you for coping with me and my topsy-turvy emotions. I didn't believe what your friends were saying at first, but I do now- you're really the best boyfriend one could ever have. I love you.

Thank you to my bff (best friend forever) LE. Friend, I'm so glad you're still here with me working at the Institute. Teaching and taking our masterals won't be as fun without you to talk with. Imagine, who will I talk to about rated stuff if you were not there? I may have a really great boyfriend, but I am luckier because I have an equally great best friend as well. Here's to more fun days to come, friend. I love you! Viva vino kulafu!

To the Chemsoc peeps! Thank you for appointing me as your junior faculty adviser. As I've said, I'm really honored. Chemsoc means a lot to my life, and still being able to make tambay and make yosi at the tambayan without feeling out of place is actually a big factor in the contentment I am feeling now. Thank you for accepting me. I love you all.

To my ex-students who are now my bestest of friends, thank you for keeping the fire of our bonding alive. Almost everyday, I am able to see some of you roaming around the campus and the very warm greetings you give to me never fails to complete my day. If I can hug each and every one of you without being sore, I will. I may not be as expressive but you know that deep in my heart, I never forget that once we've shared a whole fun-packed sem together. I love you very much and I can't wait to hang out with you again. Getting to know you is priceless. See ya in Aldasiel's Army.

To my new students, thank you for already accepting me as part of the family (especially the FoodTech peeps). I'm really grateful for letting me in and not considering me as an outsider. Right now, I'm anticipating that we'll have another unforgettable semester together. More memories, laughters, and smiles to cherish for the rest of our lives... I'll see you next meeting!

To Gwen Stefani and the rest of the artists who never fail to brighten up my day when I'm not feeling very okay. There is a song for every emotion, and thank you for being there for me when my friends aren't around. I am hoping that we'll have a really good session this sem so we can produce another great album for my students. Cheers to music!

And last, I give thanks to the higher power out there. Often, I feel that I am simply being pulled to the direction I am supposed to be in. Right now, I feel so happy and content with what I have now, and to show my gratitude, here I am, giving it back to those who make my life really meaningful.

Guys, you rock!

I Don't Love You

I can go on and on, talking about the same old shit which has been bugging me for two years now. I can let go of every unwanted feeling I have inside me - emotions which prevent me from growing up and moving on (hell, how many times have I used these two words?). I can write about the memories I thought I had. I can write about dreams and thoughts which are festering unreleased within my soul. I can talk about these things, trying to wallow in this fucked up state of lost love, and I know that the next week or so, the next month or so, I'll be back here. I know that I cannot be completely free.

I wonder what else I have to do to forget. I know that keeping it inside won't work - that they will simply develop into more serious things if left unshared. So I have to let these out. I want to feel it completely so I can separate myself from it. Let these publicly out so that somehow, when my readers read about this, they'll try to knock some sense into my thick head. I was hoping that when my readers see this, they'll look down on me because what I'm doing is totally immature and they'll lose the respect I've tried so hard to earn and I believed that that would somehow keep me on the straight and the narrow of what is right and what should be.

But it isn't working. Anymore. And I don't know what to do.

This isn't right, I know, but it isn't completely wrong because I really am trying to forget. I just don't know how to do it by myself. People have told me once and again about things that I can do to forget, and they do work for a time, but every now and then something will wake it up again. Or maybe I simply cannot forget about him completely. I don't know. If that is the case, I have a long road ahead of me. But I am willing to pay the costs, no matter what because I want to make our relationship work - my baby and I.

I'm still longing for that day when I can completely forget about you. I am waiting for that day when I can completely understand why you are reacting to me this way, when I can completely understand why I am being affected this way. I am waiting for that light which will help me understand why I keep coming back, as if there was still something left unfinished. I am longing for that day when saying your name won't stir up anything within me. When seeing you won't affect me as much as seeing a stranger would. I long for that day when I can finally be free of dreaming of you.

I had one, months ago. I dreamt I was talking to you again. Civilly. We were talking about mundane stuff. Just talking. And I was content. Being able to see you and being able to talk. And when it was time for you to go, when it was time for goodbyes and you were finally out of my vision, a voice in my dream said "one true love lost...". I was surprised by that bodiless voice, so much so that I woke up and sat in my bed, and with the realization that it was only a dream came a repetition of the same message in my head, "one true love lost..."

It was foolish. One true love lost? When the person had no feelings for me whatsoever? When I get this feeling that the person even hates me from his reactions? When nothing really happened between us? It was one of the stupidest things I've ever heard. The dream was clearly, a manifestation of my bottled up thoughts and feelings. The bodiless voice meant nothing. The voice repeating its message in my head when I was already awake meant nothing. I might have made that up. I might even have imagined it. There is no shred of truth in that "one true love lost" shit... Let me emphasize the word. SHIT!

People are laughing at me. Behind my back, my friends tell me I'm foolish, whenever I talk about you. It is true. They're right and I'm wrong. I hope I'm just not convincing myself.

I don't love you. There is no uncertainty in that. I already love someone else and my baby knows and feels this... But I can't make myself hate you. No matter what I do. No matter what you do. I can't make myself hate you despite what you've done to me.

And I can't make myself forget you.

Why? I don't know. But I don't love you.   

I don't love you.

I don't love you.

I don't love you.

:)

Hehehe.

Sa Motel 2: With Love

The guy was sitting beside me on the bus. He was nervously silent. He was quite untalkative since we left the mall where we met.

"Have you ever been to a motel before?" I asked.

"No."

I laughed. I was a bit surprised, but I didn't want to push the discussion on that topic. Some things were still raw.

"It's easy. You just go to the counter and they'll know what to do," I told him. "Then you'll pay. That fast. Why don't you do it? You go to the counter..."

"No way."

I laughed again. His childish decisiveness was quite amusing. I remembered the first time I did this. The person I was with assured me that he'll take care of everything. But in the end, I ended up taking the lead instead. I've changed so much since then. Now, there was no question that I'm in charge when it comes to these things.

"Are you nervous?" I asked, trying to calm him a bit.

"Yes. Very."

"It's okay. Don't worry. A lot of people are doing it. What are the chances that the staff will recognize you? What are the chances that you'll see other people you know?"

He nodded but I can say that he was still on edge. In fact, I was a bit nervous myself.

"They've been doing this for a long time," I added for his benefit. "It's their job. They'll even be expecting us. Why get nervous? We're not different..." On second thought, we are different, but it won't be the first time they've served people like us.

The bus stopped and we got off.

"What I don't like about this place is that it's so public! The main entrance is right here on the highway! It's like Hello Edsa, here we are!" I told him while climbing an overpass. "But we don't really have a choice so..."

I was discreetly observing the building while walking. Trying to learn where the secret entrances are. To my surprise, a couple just went out of the main doors, and a guy went inside immediately after. There was a lot of human traffic in there. The good point in that - we won't stand out, the bad thing - more people to see us, more chances of getting caught.

"I'll enter first, and you go right after," I told him as we neared the building.

I walked towards the glass doors and pushed them open, unfazed by the numerous heads turning towards me. I kept it cool. I told myself that I'm here to have fun. To have sex. And so are you, so why look at me that way? I even smiled while I was walking towards the counter. The guy I was with walked like a shadow and disappeared in the rear waiting area.

Horror of horrors I realized that there were a lot of people in the lobby. At this time?! Filipinos are crazy on sex. The staff on the counter was busy with other customers, so I stood there and waited in the middle of the lobby where everybody can see me. I didn't care. I acted like I've been doing this for a long time. I acted bored and nonplussed.

"For check-in, sir?" the staff finally asked in a lowered voice when it was my turn.

"Yes," I told her smiling, looking her straight in the eye.

"Unfortunately, our rooms are full at the moment. Will it be okay if I give you this number instead and wait for your number to be called?"

"Well... okay," I told her and took the number. As if we had a choice. We really needed a room. I walked to the waiting area and caught a glimpse of the other couples waiting in the imperfectly covered chairs. All normal couples. No one like us.

I took a different seat, in partial view of where the guy was sitting, and through hand signals, informed him that the place was full and that we have to wait. He seemed to have recovered from his nervousness, and was already playing a game in his fone. He did cast furtive glances on the people passing by though. The couples, upon seeing us, paid no special attention. Just a normal homo couple.

I also took a peep on the other people waiting with us, especially on the younger-looking guys and their girlfriends. There's no doubt what they'll be using the rooms for. There were couples with big travelling bags and other stuff, like they were really going somewhere and were just using the rooms to sleep and rest. I wasn't fooled. Those bags were empty. They were props.

Two by two, the lobby was being emptied of couples as the waiting numbers were called, but more were coming in. At least, the total number of customers will be an even number. I hoped.

"Number 28," a man called. I stood and went back to the counter, told the staff how many hours, etc, etc, paid, took the room keys, and went to the elevator. Thankfully, the guy followed right behind me. I dreaded calling his attention to follow me, and in doing so, calling all the other people's attention on me and him. I've had enough unwanted attention already.

The elevator coming down empty was the biggest relief of the day. We relaxed, took deep breaths, and I assured the guy that soon...

The elevator door opened to admit a hotel staff. A guy.

Unexpectedly, he bowed his head, murmured courtesies, and kept himself in a corner where he couldn't see us. He kept his head bowed til he got off the elevator.

Finally, we reached our floor. It was funny how we sneaked through the corridors, making sure there was nobody to see us. Signs clearly pointed where our room was, and it was a breeze finding it. Then, we reached our door, I pulled the key from my pocket, unlocked it, and we quickly slipped inside. Only 10 seconds passed before the door was again, locked.

***

THE END

Ha! Are you expecting more?

Okay...

A couple of hours later...

SECRET!

Hahaha! All was full of love. That's all I can say about what happened later. Everything's good when done with love.

:)

A Really Good Entry

Is it just me or am I losing my readers?

I've noticed that with my past four or five entries, I haven't been getting enough comments. Only Doreen (the appointed Aldasiel's Army President) seems to be paying any mind to what I'm writing. What is happening?

Am I becoming too mundane? Has my life, because of its newly-acquired stability, become too boring and ordinary? Why am I not getting any feedback form my readers? 

Well, it's a tough job, being a regular blogger like me. It's a wonder I am not running out of stories and ideas to write about.

I was especially hurt with "Zero". I was really in pain while I was writing that entry. And what did I get in return? Only Doreen and Daisy came to comfort me. Where were my other friends when I needed them? At least, my boyfriend sent me a message. (I'm telling you, he's avoiding the publicity...)

I just can't imagine someone reading my entry, knowing that I wasn't feeling well at that time, and NOT do anything about it. What are you, heartless? Geez! I take the time to read your blog entries. To make sure that you're feeling alright and when you're not, I make it a point to leave an encouraging comment or message if I thought it would make you feel any better, but when I was there, where were you?

Sigh. Maybe some people are really getting annoyed at me for filling their email with notices that I've written yet another entry, but really, it's what Friendster blogs was made for and you cannot complain because I make it a point to write good entries. Not merely diary entries, life entries.

Another sigh. Perhaps it's just because everyone's still fresh from vacation, taking their time off the internet that nobody was able to read "Zero", or maybe they were too afraid to say anything, or perhaps too shocked to know the truth about what happened.

Or maybe they thought I was too stupid, writing about the same thing over and over again.

Some people just don't care.

What's with all this senseless dramarama shit, you ask? Well, maybe it's high time for my other readers to know that I am real. That I'm not just a blog-entry-machine program (or virus) inside your computer. That I'm talking about my own real feelings and that sometimes, I might need a kind word to cheer me up a bit. Is it wrong to ask for a friend's helping hand once in a while? Am I asking too much? Huh?

Hell, I keep expecting people to do what I can do for them.

Sigh.

Nevertheless, I am happy I have friends like Doreen and Daisy who take the time to know what's up with me recently. Betcha don't even have friends like them to back you up when you're down, do ya?

Peace! I'm just proud I have some really good friends. Friends who really care. Not like you! Belat!

***

Trivia: This is entry number 199. I'd need a really good entry to make entry number 200 memorable!

Pen In My Hand

I love visiting Powerbooks. I love the atmosphere. I love how the store makes me feel that they respect what they're selling. I love how they present their books - like when they're putting the books on pedestals, they're just not doing that to sell the books; they do it because the books deserve to be there. To be admired. To be revered. Like they know what's really inside each book.

When I'm there, I daydream of seeing one of my works on the shelves. Red, with a matte texture to the cover, smelling of new paper. I see the cover of my book, my name, the title. I can see one sample of my book open. I can see others still covered in plastic. I imagine myself picking up my book, leafing through the pages, and reading my favorite entries, my favorite lines.

I can see myself, standing there, my book open in front of me, and as I'm absorbed in the words of my own work, I am taken back in time. I am brought back to the most memorable days of my life. I can see the faces, I can hear their voices again. I can feel the warmth, the coldness of that particular day. I can feel the emotions, the tears, the laughter... I am taken back to that particular day, that particular hour.

It may be akin to my mania for making albums and giving them to my students. I want to preserve my memories. With each blog entry, with each song I include for my album, there is a particular memory attached. There is a story behind each song. And everytime I listen to one of my albums, I feel exactly the same as when I'm making the album. I experience how I felt at that time - the bitterness of Lovely, the pain of Eleven, the self-loathing in Break, the sunshine of Light.

And everytime I publish an entry, everytime I release an album, I get to share a part of myself to my friends, my students. It's a wonderful feeling. It's like I'm telling them, "Hey, this is what I've gone through. This is me. Want to take a look? Maybe you'll learn and feel something from it, too..." But unfortunately, many might not be able to absorb that message. Some do take me for granted. But I don't care. What matters more is that I've done my part... It's up to them to open themselves to me. To my message.

And so, I return to myself, daydreaming inside Powerbooks, and I ask my baby, "You think other people will buy my book?", and he replies, "Of course."

Of course. It's easy for him to say that. But I know that not all books published get to be appreciated. What are my chances? Writing is not my job, it's only a hobby. But I have the will to express. I have the dream to share my life with others. Maybe that will count for something.

One of the things I've learned over this past summer is how to let go of dreams - that not all dreams will come true. I dream of becoming a writer. Should I let go of this dream too?

Nah.

In fact, I'm at work on it. I am joining a writing contest. And if I don't win, what then? I've always had a problem dealing with my failures. Will this stop me from writing? I don't think so. Writing is already a part of me as much as my **** is. And you can't just take that from me.

(Haha. Bakit kailangang haluan ng ganun?)

***

(Baby, I miss you! Mwahmwahmwah)