Tantrums, Naps, Goodbyes

At church earlier, Lucia had her first, real, public temper tantrum. Indeed, the Terrible Twos are a-comin'. I whisked her away, out of the Crying Room (yes, the irony is not lost on me). When that didn't work, we went up the staircase. That didn't work, so we went downstairs instead. That didn't work, so we went out into the street. That still didn't work, so we calmly got our bags and left. She was still crying bloody hell in the van.

I'd like to think I was relatively calm throughout the whole episode. I just let her cry and sort of waited the whole episode out. The embarrassment that other people said I would feel didn't really settle in. Mostly, I was...jealous. I was jealous that she could have such a fit in public. Sometimes I want to just flail my arms, cry, let the freaking snot flow down my face, and just cry, cry, cry.

And I wanted to cry, right then and there. I didn't know what was happening to me, I didn't know why I was so overwhelmed. I didn't know why this little nugget of heaven would cling to me for comfort when I couldn't find it within myself to just...

Eventually, she did calm down. In fact, right now, I can hear her and the yaya squealing with delight over goodness know's what. She should be taking a nap soon, but I don't know when or how that's going to happen now.

I'd like to take a nap. Sleep for a long, long, long time, and wake up, when all this is over. But I can't sleep. (Eat, move, breathe.)

Oh. Because it's Monday tomorrow. And tomorrow I say goodbye. That's why.

Because.

I've spent the better portion of the evening crying. There. I said it. I've been crying. I've been sad.

Hear that, Universe? I'm acknowledging The Sadness. And raising an angry middle finger.

I am in existential umbrage. I am chugging on the moonshine of the eternally angry. I am kicking the shins of the well-meaning but severely misplaced it'll-be-okays. I am dousing all Hallmarkian notions of happy days, happy times, and happy happies with the gasoline of the runaway car that died in mid police car chase because of an overheated engine, and lighting a match. (Yeah, just a plain match. I don't have to effusively describe every damn thing, do I?)

I am...Sad. Scared. Brokenhearted. Pretending. Tired. Hungry. Numb. Sleepy. Awake. Panicking. Catatonic. Ambivalent. Paranoid. Desperate. Apathetic. Sober. Drunk. Bleeding. Spent. Stricken. Condemned. Judged. Consoled. Pacified. Controlled. Feared. Loved. Misunderstood. Unraveled. Ensconced. Exposed. Hidden.

But...and this is me desperately clinging on to that solitary hope...I'll be okay. I'll be okay. I'll be okay. I'll bounce back. I always do. It's what I do.

Because.

...

    ...

        ...

A crimson hot-air balloon will fly in the sky, and my hope shall come back. And by then, I shall have been okay.

(It's just that...right now, at this precise moment, it is very difficult to be happy. And so many people need me to be happy so that they can be happy but...I can't. Please don't ask me to pretend right now. Not right now. Just for a while.)

But it'll come back. And I'll be waiting.

---

It's only for a little while. 

I'm so sorry that I have to go. But it's only for a little while. 

I'll never be too far away anyway. 

And Now We've Landed on Mars

...and found proof that Men don't always come from there! :P

Day Two in My Inability to Verbalize Thoughts. (NB: This "inability" is a lie by the way. I'm just choosing to be reticent for now. Too many thoughts to choose from.)

Anyway, garrulous preamble aside, I really am in a state of funk; verbal constipation. And so, Magic 8 Ball cum iTunes Shuffle, take it away:

If We Can Land A Man On The Moon, Surely I Can Win Your Heart

(Beulah) 

I'll fight

If you want me to fight

I'll laugh

If you want me to laugh

And cancel out the sun

I will I will

You know I surely will

'Cause all you need is a pretty song

If you wanna sing, tell me what you wanna sing

And I'll play

Speed it up or slow it down,

if you want we'll change our sound

We'll play, yeah we'll play

Anything that you want

All we want from you is a word or two.

And even though, we don't show

We cast our nets like missionaries

If we sell out, oh well

Our only fan will be changing costumes

And you'll see it's much the same

so sing our songs

And for applause

We'll get up, get up

If you wanna sing, tell me what you wanna sing

And I'll play

Speed it up or slow it down,

if you want we'll change our sound

We'll play, yeah we'll play

Anything that you want

All we want from you is a word or two.

I been worth a ton

and I've been worth

I don't need you need

The words you write

make my heart race and stop

and just quit

Yeah, we'll do anything

that you want.

Yeah yeah, so please don't go and break our hearts

Yeah yeah...

I'll fight

If you want me to fight...

And Today's Message From the Universe Is...

First song on shuffle when I woke up this morning.

Through the Backyards
(Au Revoir Simone)

Baby tell me please 

Is this a dream 

Spending the night with you 

Beneath the cherry trees 

Just make a wish and everything comes true 

Out the windows of my bedroom 

Through the backyards of our neighbors 

But I didn't leave you waiting 

There was endless concentration 

Then the moon swept down to greet us 

It was warm and made of flowers 

Into vines that barely reached us 

Climbing higher than forever 

Baby help me please 

In knowing this 

'Cause showing never tells 

Was it just a breeze? 

Was it a kiss? 

Breathless exquisite chills?

Waves

We wave hello and we wave good bye.

Waves come and then they go.

All this ceaseless coming and going. Sometimes, things just need to stay put. Ah, but stay put where? That is the question I suppose.

---

In front of another ocean yet again. And a storm is coming. Well, a storm just left, and apparently there's another one coming. Because that's how we roll, see. Defiant against inclement weather. The waves are doing a marvelous job frightening me to death. There is no way on God's green earth that I shall be swimming this weekend, thankyouverymuch.

Ugh. The crashing of the waves is usually calming but...All this quiet via repetitious noise is...deafening. I can almost hear the whooshing of the blood in the vessels of my ear. (But they're not loud enough to silence the other noises that I would like to shut up. No more, no more. Please, no more.)

I feel like I had to say so many good byes yesterday, and I am steeling myself to make more of them in the coming days. Well, good-bye-for-nows, mostly. I am but a wave on a stormy ocean.

Waving good bye because eventually, I'll be waving hello. Eventually.

---

...

Don't worry. I'm okay. Mornings are usually difficult, that's all.

I'll be okay.

Chuck(s)

People who know me personally (well, okay, if you’ve been following this blog, you’ll know this, too) know that I am afraid of germs. Not like, "Ooh, they’re monsters, they’re out to get me." More like,

"IF WE DON’T ARM OURSELVES, WE WILL DIE. PAINFULLY."

And so they usually cannot reconcile the fact that I still wear my 16 year old Chucks. I was thinking of posting a picture of what they look like now, but I’m too freaking embarrassed, truth be told. “Ratty” does not even begin to describe what they are at this point. Their original color was black, but it’s now a mottled kind of gray. (Or “grey”. The “e” makes it sound more depressed <--- See how there wasn’t an “a” in that word?) Any writing on it is all but gone. The little thingamajibbits that hold it together have all but crumbled. There is absolutely no traction left on the soles. The only thing keeping it from total dissipation is sheer obstinence. And an adherence to the belief that there is a Higher (Sneaker) Power.

I have had boyfriends who have willingly bought me new sneakers. I would wear said new sneakers for a while only to set them aside eventually. In fact, I have no idea where these sneakers are now. They’ve probably gone to sneaker heaven (with Higher Sneaker Power), blazing a trail for these Chucks whose ship has sailed a looong time ago.

A few years ago (my goodness, I just did the computation...eight years ago...) I ran into an old boyfriend. We were happily updating each other on how our lives had progressed when he suddenly stopped himself. “Hah? Suot mo pa rin yan?” That was five years after we had broken up.

I don’t particularly know why I can’t let go of these Chucks. No. I know precisely why.

1. Because I bought them for 300 bucks. With my own money. 
2. Because when I bought them, I was in love with everything Eraserheads, and so when I saw them, I felt like I was totally doing the Eraserheads thing. 
3. Because I washed them myself. (A long time ago. I failed miserably, I made the water too sudsy.) 
4. Because I wore them when I took the ACET and the UPCAT and I passed. 
5. Because I wore them constantly throughout college. 
6. Because I wore them when I thought it was useless to try to be pretty. (I miss grunge...) 
7. Because I didn’t have to think about what bag it went with. 
8. Because they made my boyfriends buy me stuff. (Haha!) 
9. Because I wore them whenever we were allowed to dress down in school. (Talking about being a teacher now.) 
10. Because I wore them constantly in grad school. Yes, even in the snow. 
11. Because I wore them every time I’d cross the equator or state border, and it still felt like I had ties to home, a home, any home. 
12. Because...they’ve been with me through everything. Every. Single. Thing. 

And now they’re all but dead. I mean, really. They’re good for nothing at this point. Except that it gives me immense joy because of all the memories that come along with them. Because though others have tried to replace them, they're still here with me. Because though others can't see why, I see why.

Because, and here’s a shocker, I have trouble letting go. I really, really, really do.

And I love my Chucks. It's as simple as that.

Eventually, I will have no choice. Or, the choice will be made for me. Right now though, I’d like to hang on to them for just a while longer. Just...until I have no other choice but to let go.

Waiting

Saw Tita M again after a long time. I ask myself why I waited this long. I shouldn't have, but there you have it.

It was an emergency, and I thank all things holy that she was available.

Because I feel myself unraveling, slowly coming undone. And I'm grasping at straws -- anything, really -- just to keep afloat, trying my best to separate the fuzzy specters from what is real. Because, really, that's what it feels like right now.

I'm terrified. At myself. At how great this Sadness is this time. At how forcefully it is making its way back into my life. Everything scares me right now. Everything confuses me.

Except for a few things. Those things are clear.

Which is why I'm waiting. Which is why I shall be better. Which is why I will be happy again. I know it.

Because inasmuch as I know that the little things shouldn't be the source of my happiness, the little things make me want to be my own reason to be happy.

...

Things are about to take place and though I have decided to push through with them, the actual task of actually doing it looms heavily upon me. There are too many ways for this to fail and I am paralyzed with fear.

And pain. So, so, so much pain.

This is going to be so difficult. This is difficult.

All shall be well. This, too, shall pass. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away. Alleluia, alleluia. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

If Only

(Etched on one of trees in the garden: "The cure for anything is salt water...sea, sweat, tears.")

We're back at Dalipuga.

So, all throughout this "vacation," now's the only time I've actually had time by myself. It's just us girls here (Mama, Lucia, and I) and so that means Lucia and I have turned marsupial once more.

But I've had plenty of time to think. It seems like it's all I can do out here. And watch the waves.

The waves had been crazy the past few days. There was a storm of some sort in Manila this whole time. It's been nothing but blue beautiful skies here since Friday, but the waves had been crazy strong, the only indication that something was out of the ordinary. At this moment though, (it's 7ish in the morning), it's utterly calm. So calm, in fact, that Mama was able to bring Lucia to the sea to swim a bit. (Hence my sudden return into the mammal kingdom.)

The waves had died, but my thoughts are still crashing about, an indication that something is out of the ordinary. Far, far, far away.

If only things were different. I'm not even asking for things to be easier, just different. For there to be some sort of chance for something better. (Because we deserve it, damnit.) Because, now I know, and there is no way to un-know this.

If only I were free. If only there was a way, not even a way now, just...a way.

If only conclusions were decisions, too.

In a few hours I shall leave the waves, the skies, the sea. And when I return...more of this.

But at least now I know, and there is no way to un-know this.

Redefining Forever

(Translated from Italian by Ubaldo Stecconi, but this has a few minor edits by me...because I couldn't help it. Also, the story appears here without expressed permission, but I'm not doing anything here for a profit. So Internet gods, be kind!)

Coincidences
by Stefano Benni

There were a city, a white bridge, and a rainy evening in that order. From one end of the bridge, a man with an umbrella and a coat was approaching. From the other end, a woman with a coat and an umbrella. In the exact center of the bridge, there were two stone lions that had been looking at one another for one hundred and fifty years. The man and the woman stopped, they looked at one another, too. Then, the man spoke:

Man: "Kind lady, strangers though we are, may I take the liberty of addressing you to point out a strange coincidence? If I am not mistaken, this is the fifteenth time this month that we've met at this very spot."

Woman: "You are not mistaken, dear sir. This is the fifteenth time today."

Man: "Allow me also to point out that every time, we are each carrying a book by the same author."

Woman: "Yes, I noticed that: he is my favorite author. Yours, too, I presume."

Man: "That is so. Permit me to say that each time we meet, you blush violently. Coincidentally, the same happens to me."

Woman: "This also struck me as strange. I might add that you smile ever so slightly, and so do I."

Man: "It is truly incredible. Moreover, each time I feel as though my heart pounds harder."

Woman: "Quite unique, sir. I feel the same way, and my hands tremble."

Man: "A very extraordinary series of coincidences. I might add that, after encountering you, for a few hours, I feel a strange and pleasurable sensation..."

Woman: "Like a feeling of weightlessness? Like walking on clouds? Like seeing everything in more vivid colors?"

Man: "You have perfectly described how I feel. And in this state of mind, I begin to fantasize..."

Woman: "Another coincidence! I, too, dream that you are but a step away from me, right on this very spot of the bridge, and you take my hands in yours..."

Man: "Exactly. At that precise moment, a boat sounds its siren from the river, the one they call 'love boat.'"

Woman: "Your fantasy is the same as mine, it is incredible! In mine, after that rather melancholic sound, for some reason, I lay my head on your shoulder."

Man: "And I caress your hair. In doing so, I drop my umbrella. We stoop at the same time..."

Woman: "And finding our faces so close, we kiss long and passionately. A man on a bicycle passes us by and says, '...Lucky you, lucky you...'"

They fell silent. His eyes were shining, so were hers. The melancholy wail of an approaching boat's siren could be heard in the distance. Then he said:

Man: "I think, Miss, that such a remarkable series of coincidences cannot be by chance."

Woman: "I think so, too, sir."

Man: "What I mean is, we are not dealing with a detail, but with a long sequence of details. There can only be one reason for this."

Woman: "Yes, indeed. There can be no other."

"The reason is," the man said, with a sigh, "that there are bizarre sequences in life, mysterious harmonies, signs that only give a hint of their meaning, but for which we possess no key."

"That is absolutely true," sighed the lady, "it would take a medium, or a fortune-teller, or maybe an expert in some esoteric discipline to be able to explain the strange fateful events which echo daily in our lives."

Man: "In any case, what happened to us is truly unique."

Woman: "A series of remarkable coincidences, no one can deny it."

Man: "Perhaps science will be able to decipher all this one day. Meanwhile, I apologize for any inconvenience."

Woman: "It was no inconvenience. Rather, it was a pleasure."

"Good bye, kind woman."

"Good bye, dear man."

They walked briskly away, each one their separate ways.

---





Our understanding of happiness is that for it to be true, it has to be forever. If it ends, then it can't be true happiness.

The tragedy there isn't our misunderstanding of happiness (for truly, it must be forever to be true), but our misunderstanding of "forever."

Forever is a grain of sand. A renegade eyelash, resting on a cheekbone.

It is the time it takes for the harsh words to go to the heart and then to the eyes, to then form tears. For a strand of hair to separate itself from its sibling strands, to begin the inevitable descent to the ground (or someone else's shirt).

It is a child's laughter. A dog's howl. An overly excited, just-saw-her-friends-at-the-mall-oh-my-god-what-are-you-doing-here, 16 year old girl's shriek.

The color pink. The color red. Persimmon. Pewter. Mauve. Vermilion. Crimson. Ocher.

Our entire lives are made of many forevers, and if we don't see the happiness in all of them, then it's our own fault we are sad.

(Yes, it is my fault. But it's so hard to catch a forever these days. But then it comes, and oh, how it comes.)

We live for the coincidences (for the goosebumps that come with the realization of the existence of a coincidence), for how else will we know that we are still alive?

Because I'm Too Prudent...

...to write down what I actually want to say online. And so I will write down how I feel, in a roundabout way. Because this act of not speaking is actually speaking volumes (zero volume as it may be now), but not nearly as accurately as I want.

And how to remedy that? To speak tangentially (if not more accurately than I hope to be).

Yeah, whatever, I'm not making sense. I'm just going to slog my way through this Ick that is my fragile state of mind via Proust's questions again. (And, um, oh my goodness. I just went to that link and checked my old answers and...well...things are a little different now.)

..o..

The principal aspect of my personality: Personality? I dunno. Of my personhood, the fact that I am a mother.

The quality that I desire in a person: Intelligence + humor = Wit. (Please, Universe? Please?)

My main fault: Obstinate intelligence.

What could be my greatest misfortune: Sigh. Obstinate intelligence (that could probably be for naught save for a spell of engaging conversations over libations).

My dream of happiness: The pursuit thereof.

My present state of mind: The emotional equivalent of arms akimbo.

My greatest fear: That I am trapped and that the only solution would be to change my point of view, to keep looking at these walls as some kind of protection and not as a way to limit who I am...but I refuse to do so on principle.

Faults for which I have the most indulgence: Soiled nappies.

My greatest extravagance: Time for others versus time for myself.

My greatest achievement: This.




Ease up, Universe. I'm having a really tough time as it is.