The Cure for Silence.

Every Writer's Problem. Posted: 06 Apr 2007 09:03 PM CDT You know you're a good blogger when you can come up with a unique title for every entry. For blogging every day. Two months, not an update, not an inspiration, not an entry. Where have I been? Not an explanation either. I miss the days when I have more to write about, from when I saw the guy that made me tingle, to when I fell down the staircase because he just said hi, to the moment when I finally sit in front of my computer to write about the experience itself. I used to be the person I just described in bold letters above this entry. Yes, I also used to have more than one blog. But now, I'm just blanked out. Not an idea, nothing at all. I have lost my blogging mojo. Sitting here, though, just made me realize that I don't have to experience something massive in order to have an entry. I can just write about writing. I can write about blogging. Yes, BLOGGING itself. In my most recent post on another blogging site, I have one person comment on my entry about missing blogging for months. He said: "Its not getting lazy why you don't blog. Blogging comes as an urge, to say something, even if you are trying to make a point or not." So right then, I found a reason to forgive myself. I also found a reason to write about something for this month. Why do People blog? Two main reasons. We blog because... We want our own books. I have told this to myself before, that lives are books waiting to be written, when I thought of making it as an author. And if I had been better with words enough to make a living off of it, that phrase would've probably been in every book I would write. It would also be in my tombstone (which ever way works). The truth is we all have our own stories to tell. We, of course, always want them to be told. We want our own audience. This goes with the previous reason, so let me put it in a logical sense:If we all have our own stories to tell, and we always want them to be told, then we want people to hear them. See...audience! And two additional reasons: We make mistakes. We find comfort in writing down our mishaps because somehow, things get better, or so it feels. Writing is the other form of expression as supposed to cursing. Writing is another form of emotional release without shouting our urges to say FUCK! Verbally. See what I mean? We don't make mistakes. Oh.....the happy days! If the drama appears in every writing, then there is no point of leaving a trace because most of the time we just don't have the energy to recall our depressing events. When things go well, however, we are more eager to blog it out, so when we look back, we have something to smile about. We can't always live our lives making mishaps. In my eyes, blogging is a way to release every emmotions in me that people would normally ignore. I blog for my sanity. I blog for pleasure. I blog for satisfaction. I even blog to releive my guilt for not blogging. I blog so I have a little peice of the world to call my own. I blog because I can. When the world finally learns to pay us some individual attention, Blogging is what taught them to.

The "Me" Package: A non-erasable existence. Posted: 06 Apr 2007 08:45 PM CDT There are thousands of reasons why you can't help who you are. When New Years was approaching, I remember people trying to come up with the oddest sets of New Year's resolution. My sister, for example, planned to work out more this year to keep her already thin body in shape. But never once did I see her pick up a dumbbell or at least did some stretching since when the first of January arrived. The truth is, whether it was passed on by genes or influenced by society, I believe that what you were years before (bad habits or disappointing attitudes) will never be broken by a simple mental contract you made to your self overnight. It takes the right moment and the right experience for a person to want to change for good. So I ask myself, what is there really for me to change? Or better, what do I have as a person that will never change? I came up with a few. My "Me" Package contents: I'm loud. If I'm having fun around people, I may talk to them like they're all five feet away from me (especially under the influence of alcohol). I laugh like there's no tomorrow, loud and contagious, and people sometimes miss me when everything quiets down. In other words, I hate silence. I always have. I'd rather break them. I'm a nail-biter. Fingers. Not toes. It started back in third grade, when one of my very-strict-catholic-teacher criticized me for having long finger nails. When there were no nail-cutters in site, I decided to use my ingenuity. And I never needed a nail cutter ever since. I'm frank. NO. My name is not "Frank". But in adjective, the word "frank" means verbally straight forward like Amada Forman's character in the show Felicity--Meghan Rutondi--the weird college roommate that says everything with no sense of care. If I don't know someone very well, I may sugar-coat my words. But if I do, I'll mostly pull a "Meghan" on that person. I'm funny. Or so I'd like to think. This is mostly due to being frank. When I say something that is downright true, sometimes it's funny. Mostly it's offensive, but that's why it's funny (sadly!). Dumb jokes don't always work, but some people are kind. They laugh anyway. And that's what makes me think of myself as funny. I hate my life. Sometimes. No money. No car. No love life. And I still live with my parents at age 23. No Money means I re-use everything. No car means I have to ride the public bus. No love life means I'm currently looking. And living with my parents means I'm cheap. Need I say more? But then again, who doesn't criticize their lives every once in a while? I'm older than I look. When I was 18, I looked 14. When I was 14, I looked 12. And when I was 12, I looked 8. I always get carded in bars, clubs, and even movie theaters for rated R movies (ridiculously!), and though it may be a curse now, I'd like to think it's a compliment when I'm 80. Then again, no one wants to look 17 at age 23. I don't. I have three weaknesses: migraine headache, my parents, and the current dream guy. My migraine knocks me down stone cold with or without medications. My parents call the shots until I move out. And I'm still looking for the current dream guy. But whoever he is, based on the ones that had claimed the title in the past, he is bound to be a weakness. I don't care. Once, at a church retreat, I announced to everyone about a certain peculiar exprience: I pooped. Everyone started laughing, but I'm pretty sure they were grossed out. But here's the thing: I didn't care. I do care. What makes a gross, annoyingly funny, and rudely frank person is a girl who hates seeing people get hurt--physically or emmotionally. My ultimate goal: become a doctor (surprise suprise!). Yes, I also have a soft side. I cherish my doldrums. Every now and then I hit the low spirit point where I don't talk to people. I don't answer their calls, I don't read their texts, I don't return their phone calls, and I don't listen to their voicemails. If they ever ended up at my door, I would ignore them. Eventually, social inactivity starts to take over. Yes, it gets lonely and depressing. But sometimes, I just want to be left alone. I get inspired in the weirdest place and the weirdest way. For example, I came up with this writing while I was in the shower. **Ta-dah** I don't plan parties. I quit. I was never good at it. On my 14th birthday, I gave out invitations for a pool party. I was excited. I prepared the foods, I chose the right music, and I made sure the pool was ready for use. No one came. Since then, I never planned another party. So when a friend told me once that I was "such a party [my dear]!", I'm pretty sure that was unplanned. Finally... I don't believe in New Years Resolution. I stopped. In my opinion, New Year's Resolutions are promises meant to be broken, and it's even worse that we make them to ourselves. I find that since my past resolutions never make it for the whole year, I'm basically hopeless. Besides, why make a promise to myself if it would only last for three months? Not even. Maybe two. Okay. One and three-quarters. I think I'll be better off not making any at all. So. What in your package are you [not] changing this year?

The lights, they flicker! Posted: 06 Apr 2007 08:35 PM CDT Maybe I haven't felt Christmas in nine years, but I always see them they way the always look. Shinny! This is Christmas: - Christmas caroling - Gifts - Families - Gifts - Food - Gifts - Friends - Gifts - And the whole entire neighborhood of lights Okay...obviously it's not that far from what is happening, especially since half of my list is all about gifts. But my ideal Christmas, or what it used to be, is truly about the whole gathering of families and friends that I never see on a regular basis. I mean seeing cousins I don't see everyday. Meeting aunts and uncles that never knew what to get me, but managed to wrap something anyway. Watching my grandma embrace every grandchild she has, and watching my grandpa socialize with his son and every son-in-law he has. Most especially, the foods, the gifts, the songs, and the stronger memories it gives that people choose to celebrate the 25th of December instead of using it as another "payday". That's the spirit I haven't felt in years. On the other hand, there's always a few things that make Christmas special. Did I forget to mention the lights? Ow, yes, the lights. The whole entire street of houses that dressed themselves up with flickering lights. Green. Red. Yellow. Sometimes blue. Sometimes orange. Sometimes they chase each other. Sometimes they stay still. Other times they are wrapped around a big inflated Santa Clause. Or, sometimes, a big inflated Frosty. And, most times, a Christmas tree. But always, they shine. Always, they brighten the place. And always, they make Christmas look like "CHRISTMAS!!!". Now, with that thought in mind, may you enjoy the lights. Enjoy the gifts, the families, the friends, the tree, the food, the songs, and the Christmas memory that this year may bring. May yours be Blessed and Merry!

"I've got a crush on you!" Posted: 10 Apr 2007 05:37 PM CDT It's funny, after six months of not caring about men, I find myself getting hooked on a bloke. Unfortunately, once a girl is hooked, there's no way of getting out of it. At least, not voluntarily. When you're crushing on someone, it's hard not to care. A girl may pretend she doesn't care for a man, but when she eventually finds a suitable guy that she would be attracted to, she won't pretend for long. Even the ones who commit themselves to convents and swear to celibacy for good can't escape it. Some even give up nunnery to follow their hearts (i.e: The Sound of Music). That's the power of attraction. Writing this blog, I realize that attraction has taken over me. I now have a crush on someone I've been ignoring for two years. Pardon me, it wasn't just six months. For this guy, it's actually two years. It's clear that I wasted time praying for other men while this guy had been in front of me the whole time, sometimes even trying to get my attention (or so I'd like to think). But I gather now that whatever interest he had in me two years ago isn't there anymore. Maybe it's the bitter reality of time that swept away every little attraction that he had in me, or maybe he just plainly got tired and quit. Either way, I ended up wanting him afterwards. But now, I'm just a girl in his class who didn't return his phone call when he was still interested (so the hell with me). Who was I kidding? A guy that precious don't waste his time waiting until I change my mind. I wonder: does the concept of "wanting what we can't have" have something to do with this? What is it that makes us long for something we couldn't have, or for the matter, had, but then lost it? While I'm in this zone of venting and questioning, I must say, I couldn't erase Mr. Adonis out of my head. All this time I've wondered how I went from being uninterested to being attracted overnight. I never thought he was unattractive, but for two years, I wasn't attracted to him. Then, all the sudden, as if someone turned on a switch button somewhere, all I could think of was him. Strange, but real. The moment I realized I like him, I only had one question in my mind: why didn't I feel this before? And now, I'm lost for words and in the misfortune of not being able to turn back time. Suddenly, I care about what he thinks or how to act around him. I care about getting his attention, or not getting it so I don't look like I'm trying too hard, I even care about caring too much or caring too little. All of the sudden, I care about everything. Maybe the one thing that I care most deeply about is the fact that he would be going away. If he makes it to a med school in Europe, he'd leave the country before the end of the year and be off living the same dream I want for myself. But right now, he's still here and that's what matters. Before Mr. Adonis disappears for good, I would sure love another chance, although it's possibly slim. Maybe all I have left is to focus on his eyes, his face, his smile, and all the other things I wasted time ignoring. But this much I know: if he calls me again any day, I will not hesitate. I will. Definitely. Answer the phone.

Dealing with Bitterness. Posted: 06 Apr 2007 09:03 PM CDT I'm bad at being bitter, mostly because I play the part so well. There are three types of people: those who forgive and forget, those who don't forgive and don't forget, and those who forgive but don't forget. The other type, in my opinion, doesn't exist. In this world, being bitter is easy when you've experienced being hurt. No one ever forgets the reason why they can't forgive. My experience with being bitter has a lot to do with how I learned to deal with past angers. I can't exactly remember how old I was, but it must be back in the third grade when I first met my long time rival who sucked the living goodness out of my soul and laughed it off like nothing happened. And so, as time went by, I have naturally turned on my ability to manage anger in a way that only the roots of it could explain--the only way I know how. Never let the other person ignore your pain. I accomplished it. She was aware, certainly, for I was never good at hiding my bitterness even when I was actually hiding it. I think it has more to do with the fact that I was never good with managing my feelings. I was never taught properly on how to deal with those who have angered me because the seven years of my childhood that I spent in catholic school only pounded me to forgive. It was the only way that nuns back in third grade could explain my ticket to heaven when I die. They claimed that people who hurt you are also God's children (in which I now question if they knew what they were talking about). All faults have to be forgiven, and for a long time, I must admit, I considered it. Therefore I use to have an understanding with the concept of "forgive and forget". But out in the real world, enemies are enemies. Anger is anger. Bitterness is bitterness. Forgiveness has its limits. And nuns, of course, are just people who always have their hairs covered. So I brushed if off, a long time ago, the concept of forgive and forget. By the time I reached fourteen, I already knew that there would be people meant to ruin what seems so simple to explain back in the catholic school. Forgiveness is not always that easy. The one thing I should've learned back in third grade is knowing how to forgive with always remembering why I had to. I never forget. I never walk away without the recollection of being hurt, so when the universe works its natural revenge, I would understand why. Then I can allow myself to feel rewarded, the need to laugh, have a little simpathy, but also a sense of pride without feeling guilty for having them. And in the end, I would realize, it's all worth being hurt for. So how do you never let the other person ignore you pain? You forgive. You can forgive. It's not something you completely abandon. But, of course, you just never forget.

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