When Hypothermia Strikes

You left your heart in SF, I'm leaving mine there, too. Hopefully, our hearts will meet again and decide that they are meant to be together. One day. Someday.

Left Behind in San Franciso

Once upon a time, we dreamt of leaving our hearts in SF. Then you left me.

SF should be a good experience. Now I'm here, it just leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth no matter how beautiful and charming it is.

Dahil Burday ni Baby Boy

Para sayo tong post na to! Happy birthday JF! Iloveyoudoobidoobidoo! :-)Of all the shitty, depressing things that happened to me this year, your friendship is one of the best things I got as a trade off.

Another Day, Another City

My cousin wasn't joking. It is really cold up here in San Diego. They live up in the hill, in a very fancy subdivision.

My nose will bleed not because of speaking English but because of the unforgiving cold.

I'm so excited to see what's up in this city.

You Know This is For You

I told you you would look so much prettier with your hair color in a more natural hue. And your teeth baring smile made you ten times more likable. To be honest, I like you already. Merry Christmas and a great new year to both of you. May this 2012 be the best for all of us.

Banana takes On CALI!

Finally, I'm having my long overdue vacation. As I've frequently told my office friends, I am the original curacha, linggo lang ang pahinga.Yep, I went straight from college and into the work field. I graduated Saturday and started working Monday... and I havent had a leave lasting more than two working days.

So, how's my trip so far?

Let me start by telling you my first day. I had to attend the wedding of my boss, but only up to the church wedding as my flight leaves 10pm. Knowing traffic could be such a bitch on a Saturday, I was fretting because I had to be at the airport before 8pm, and my parents were still stuck at traffic at 6pm. I was saying all my prayers and thinking of all possible worst case scenarios if I come late to the airport.

Thankfully, I arrived a few minutes before 8pm (no dinner! just my baong hopia). I was still in my wedding attire (electric blue, body hugging dress and 4 inches heels) so everybody was looking at me thinking, "what is she all dressed up for? It's just the airport."

Anyway, I was able to check in without a hitch and survived a long flight watching Lake House ( a beautiful movie) and Before Sunrise (aaaw). I was also able to sleep for 7 hours, longer than what I usually have at the comfort of my own home. In a matter of hours, I was in beautiful California.

My cousin's husband and my two nieces took me to LA and Hollywood on my first day. Being huge Lakers fans, they had to take me first to downtown LA to let me see Staples Center and Nokia Theater. After that, we went to Hollywood and saw Grauman's Chinese Theater and the shops on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills (as if I could afford these shops!). It was so sweet of them to buy me a Hardrock and UCLA shirt, and a Katy Perry perfume which smells soooooo good! It comes with a purse and locket with solid perfume in it. So cool. But the greatest thing would probably be having my picture taken with a smokin' hot Abercrombie and Fitch model and walking down the gay district of LA and seeing guys dancing in their undies (like a girlie bar). My two underage nieces were so scandalized, its funny.

It was a good day strolling and shopping at Nordstrom. But since I am a self-confessed workaholic, I just had to check my mails when I got back to work. 78 emails for barely 4 hours off from work(working hours I mean). And I had a report to submit! so much for relaxing.

Day 2 was more laid back. We went to a mall near my cousin's place but it was huge. I didn't get to go around much because my cousin's husband had to go to work. I also had to fix my shopping list before I go to malls to have my purchases (and budget) in order. I got some stuff from H & M and Roxy. We also had time to go to the beach to stroll. It was so beautiful, I love it. Even though my hands were freezing, I still had time to appreciate how "OC" the scene was.

Since we got home pretty early and there wasnt much to do, I spent most of my free time answering emails and eating. Yes, people here do not stop eating! Even though I'm stuffed to the brim, I couldn't put down the caramel popcorns or the raspberries.

Tomorrow, time to walk off the calories because I'm going to Universal Studios! Time to bring out the child in me.

2 More Days To Go

I can't believe I'm leaving in a few days. I'm still so stressed from work, I barely have time to do all my errands.

Too bad I wont get to see PS and GH and Legolas before I leave. I just want to give them a really, really tight Holiday hug.

This will be a different Christmas for me-- spending it in a faraway place, miles away from my family and lacking a significant person in my life.

But I think change will do me good. I deserve this. I need this.

To breathe. To grieve. To let go of a bad year. To move forward. To start anew.

When you're stuck in a rut, sometimes, all you really need is a taste of the unfamiliar.

So, Unfamiliar, I'm excited to meet you too.

Feelings We Need Words For

I just had to share this. Even though I'm almost completely healed, this post brought me back to a really dark and sad place. And it's not only me. I let my other friends read this too... The result: our office almost became a venue for mass suicide (just kidding). It was that intense. Undeniably, one of the best articles I've read so far in TC.


NOV. 21, 2011 By P. LUNA
www.thoughtcatalog.com


English is so bad at describing what it means to grieve. We use words like bereft or bitter or sad, or we say we have a broken heart. But none of these really get at the nuances. The words don’t seem to capture each exquisitely painful feeling.

For example, there should be a word, maybe borrowed from German, a language so good at expressing complicated mental states in a single lengthy word with many chewy consonants, for when you miss someone so incredibly, achingly much, when that person pervades every thought, every interaction, every waking moment, but you also loathe them. Because they treated you badly, or because they were too weak to be honest with you. Because you were betrayed. And because you loathe them, you hate yourself for missing that person so intensely. For missing the laughter they inspired; for wishing for the easy intimacy that you built. You hate yourself for knowing that they aren’t worth so much sadness, that such an outlay of mental energy is entirely wasted and useless. But you feel it anyway, and you cry in the shower or into your pillow or anytime something reminds you of that person. Which is all the time. There should definitely be a word for that.

There should also be a word, maybe from the French, who do existentialism so well, for the feeling of disconnection you cultivate when you walk through the streets with your headphones on, sad songs blasting into your ears loudly enough that you can pretend you are alone. You pass by other people almost without seeing them, since you can’t hear them. You walk by shops and offices on the sidewalk, going somewhere or maybe not going anywhere in particular, feeling like the music in your ears is a soundtrack to your sadness. This song makes you think of that person; that song comes close to capturing how lonely you are without them. You isolate yourself physically because you feel so isolated inside; surrounded by people, you are still alone, because you have been abandoned by that one person who made you feel somehow less alone.

English is also missing a word for how it feels when you know that person has moved on so quickly. When you find out you weren’t as important as you thought you were. When you realize that they were acting selfishly instead of caring about you, or when you understand that you didn’t really come into it at all for them, they were just doing what they needed to do. Maybe it should come from Russian, because the Russians know despair. You thought you were finally getting over them. You could almost go an hour, if you were busy with something really important, without thinking about them. Then you see a Facebook post or hear some gossip from mutual friends, and you realize you weren’t over it. Not even close. You realize you were still holding out hope that you would get back together, that there would be some way to repair the damage, to be happy again. When that hope is crushed, the fragile Jenga tower of your life tumbles down. There should be a word for that kind of defeat.

And there should also be a word for when you’re just so tired of being sad, for when you are tired of being lonely but somehow don’t know how to stop. When you’re tired of crying, tired of thinking about that person, tired of missing them. You can’t yet make yourself recognize all the bad things; remembering how you’ve been done wrong doesn’t help. But the hurt over the good things, the things you still miss so much, is a dull twist in your stomach now, instead of a gaping hole in your chest. You don’t know how to turn that off, don’t remember how to be happy. But you sort of remember happiness as it existed before that person, and you want that so desperately. You want to stop this misery that drags at your ankles and eyes and insides. You know it will take time, but sometimes just the fact of being tired of crying makes you cry. Maybe we could co-opt a word from Japanese for that, since melancholy is a specialty of theirs.

There should be an English word for all these feelings of grief. And I desperately wish they existed now, just so I could tell you, next time you ask, how I’m doing in only four words, instead of all these.

You Don't Need To Say Anything

By: Chelsea Fagan
(www.thoughtcatalog.com)

There was a time when receiving even the most insignificant message from you would have been simply incredible-- when it would have told me that, no matter what was happening, I still crossed your mind. Because as we all know, silence is the most brutal statement one can make. Screaming about how much you hated me or telling me I was ugly, well, it would have been tolerable. Hate and love are two sides of the same coin; the true opposite of love is apathy. And if you had screamed, I would have known that regardless of how hard you tried to convey your disdain for me, I still meant enough to you to write a few words, to make your sentiments known. But you remained silent, and so I shut up as well.

I have lost people in my life before; I have a choice soul or two with whom I can no longer speak. Even acknowledging their existence, or confronting them with mine, would be just too ugly and pour salt into too many wounds. There are bridges I have burned out of necessity. Yours was simply abandoned, left untended for years until weeds grew through it and the railing fell apart and it became something you might take a black-and-white picture of, but you could never cross again. It was unsafe, destroyed by neglect. And that hurt more; to see something just erode into oblivion is so much more brutal than to cover it with gasoline and to toss a match on it. I wanted fireworks, to go out with a bang. I guess that's human nature.

And the time that we didn't speak went from a simple act of convenience into a border which could no longer be crossed. There is an invisible moment in time, a line of sorts, that you traverse at a certain point in a mutual silence. It is the time when, from then on, starting a conversation would be awkward and jagged and require an embarrassed explanation of why you haven't spoken in so long. We crossed that point a long time ago, whether I wanted to or not, and I knew that going back would be fruitless. Acknowledging each other was over, and it was time to accept the quiet death of a friendship that had taken place.

Of course, I still hoped that you would reach out. One day you would extend your hand and say that you were sorry, that things were okay, that we don't need to keep this uncomfortable distance. You would tell me that we were being immature, that life is too short, and many other clichés that we could nod in agreement on. I waited for it consciously, then without thinking of it, and eventually I wasn't waiting at all. My life began to continue, and your peripheral existence didn't factor in. I was happy without it, and the fact that you weren't a part of everything was no longer a tangible hole needing to be filled.

Every day became more and more about what was good, enjoyed fully without a nagging sense of "if only I could share it with this person." I made new friends, and strengthened ties with old ones. I no longer thought about our silence, about our depressing ending, about the fact that we'd never again stay up all night watching internet videos and drinking beer. It was simply a chapter in my life that had closed, and the ending seemed appropriate. We can't appreciate or understand the endings of things when they're happening, of course, but with a little distance they usually parse themselves out. We were right to go our separate ways, and I know we're both the better for it-- even if we can't pinpoint exactly why.

So there's no need to apologize, to come and say something, to awkwardly jump-start a conversation that goes nowhere in a matter of minutes. There's no need to acknowledge what happened, or talk about the things we would have done differently. Our lives are filled with things we could have done better, but I know you well enough to know that just because things end on a bad note doesn't mean all the wonderful music before was worthless. I won't let the ugly end color my memories of you. But we are no longer the same people, and there's no reason to force a false friendship because of some misplaced sense of nostalgia.

It's the holidays, and we are remembering the people we left behind. But sometimes remembering is enough. You're surrounded by your loved ones, and I with mine, and there's no need to toast because the season tells us we should. We're all okay, and there are so many exciting things in front of us--let's let that be enough.

Happy Merry Christmas Party

Work and Play

Camwhoring with office friends. Pics taken at the office, Republiq and my friend's wedding at Intramuros.

Party Like Its (Almost) 2012

I don't know the Indian Guy but he said our party rocks!


Burning down the house.



The ultimate party stance: The Up In The Air Hand Movement (and I dont know the other Indian guy, as well)


Me and G*, with her "Ikaw na ang naka Venus Cut" top



Me and my two hot friends of friends (who became my good friends under the Group Hab circle)... and yes, Paris* got his cut while dancing with abandon


The original is always the best. Ang promotor ng lahat ng kawasakang ito, ang Perksquad (minus Queer*, who came late)


Mga pekeng Party Girls (who are undercover geeks in real life)


Makaposing lang.


Perks with Flamethrower (or is it Mamba's) friend.








The girls of Perksquad are on fire!


I love these guys!


We're complete!


Mamba and TR friends.


Prom dates lang?



The most awesome set of friends EVER.


Perksquad and Group Hab

Prom This Moment:Group Hab's First Christmas Party

...dary!

it was a party that would kick all other parties in the butt and say "Lame-o". Izdashit.

You just know that your party is awesome when you get people to hug and dance like crazy with strangers at the end of the night. Yes, it was that good. Its like a big soiree, but with more booze and hotter grinding dance moves.

Kudos to the core group, Perksquad, who brought friends and friends of friends together. I could not be prouder of us. We're complete!

As this is a dry run of our dream to be the Granddaddy of all Party Organizers, I am confident that we will see this dream come to fruition, basing on the success of our first event.

8 Cases of beer. 4 bottles of Vodka. 2 Tequilas. 4 Jack Daniels. 80+ young professionals. 1 big event.

and we are just getting started.

In the Spirit of Vodka, er, Holidays

OOOOOOOH.

I am so ready to get rid of 2011. And what better way to start the beginning of the end than to host a super duper awesome party that will get everyone stark raving drunk. Yes! I, a proud member of Perksquad and Group Hab, will be dancing til my feet burst in their 3-inches heeled glory. Never mind that it's a Monday. Where is it written that you cannot party on a Monday? My friends and I have defied all possible unwritten rules on partying i.e. never mix hard drinks, no partying on a weekday, no wearing of flipflops and flat shoes etc. etc. and the best part of this is that we still get to work on time and function normally and even more productively than the non-hung-over people at work.

Did I mention that this party was sponsored by me and my friends? Yes, we had a bar closed so we can throw a party for our friends and friends of friends. I asked Tubby why we are doing this, and she said,

"Last year nga, naka 14K tayo sa Christmas party natin, at sampu lang tayo. Ngayon pa kaya na ang laki laki na ng circle of friends natin?"

It makes sense. Some people do charities, we get people drunk. All in the Spirit of Christmas.

Tonight will be Legen...Wait for it...

Of Restropective and Forward Looking Thoughts

...and I woke up one day and the bitterness is gone.

in one of the feeds in my FB page, I saw my ex and his new girlfriend in one of our common friend's party. I was expecting a staggering pain in my heart, an emptiness in the pit of my stomach, and blackout level anger. Amazingly, I didn't feell anything of that sort. If there's any detail that I felt or picked up from those pictures, I just noticed the little things like how chubby his face looked now, how matured he looked (old, actually), how much better the girl's new hair color is on her (Although she would do much better smiling in a normal and non-pacute way because let's admit it, unless, you're Anne Curtis, the non-teeth smile rarely works out for anyone-- and I mean this in an objective, non mocking way), and brought me back to the day when I first met the girl (Badminton game with her ex, and my ex who is his current-- ang gulo lang). I found her cute, then. And since all my bitterness was gone now, I kinda accepted that I may actually like this girl and be friends with her, if we were in a different situation.

Therefore, is it safe to assume that I've healed. Although, I've said this many times before, I know this time is different. For some reason, I'm kind of sure that I won't go back relapsing into this black hole of depression. As weird as it may sound, I genuinely wish them happiness. The love is still there, as with any person who filled a space in your life and made your existence worthwhile. I would always think of him and save a corner of my heart for him. But in terms of pining, I don't see myself putting up all my hopes for a future with him.

I guess this is what moving on and setting someone free feel like---a breath of fresh air. I'm ready to take on a new life. So, get ready world, and be my oyster.

Paduds Chronicle Part 2

I take it back.

I appreciate it very much. I should not be so ungrateful and so quick to judge and decide. These things take time and possibilities are endless. It could be nothing, something, or everything. In any case, it's all about taking chances and taking a step forward.

Happiness is a choice. And after treading that long road of self-imposed misery, I am finally choosing to be happy.

This is All Kinds Of Awkward

Let me tell you something about me. I am not used to being wooed and swooned over. It kind of pushes me to over analyze things. This early, it's like I'm being forced to make a choice. And it suffocates me. Gak. Pwede bang steady muna?

Ansabe ng Horoscope ko 11/21/2011

(Source:www.yahoo.com)

Your imagination, dreams and fantasies are offering you some amazing insight into the questions you've been asking yourself, and they could confirm a few suspicions. The visions in your life give you a glimpse of the truth, of the accurate reality you see from outside your biased lens. You've been in a fog about someone for a while, and it's time to be up front and crystal clear about what you need and what you want. Go right to the source and don't leave things open to interpretation

Paduds.

I am A Zombie. A Very Productive Zombie.

Wow, 3 hours of sleep after hours of partying, er, working in heels after our company sponsored an event held at Republiq last night. Yes, it was fun but it really wasn't my thing. Note: the sight of grinding bodies in a dark space is not my idea of a relaxing Thursday night. But, who's complaining? Free food, good dance music and a chance to people-watch.

To say that my social life is active is a severe understatement. I can only blame this on the season. People keep on asking me to do a lot of extracurricular activities that blur the line of work and personal life. Hosting activities, organizing surprise birthday, Christmas, bridal shower, reunion parties, dance presentations, and the ultimate singles mixer. Yes, this is on top of a very time and energy consuming 8-5 (rather, 8-8) job. I barely sleep, I wake up early, I go out a lot, and I seldom have dinner. How I can manage to remain vertical and still have this much energy is really beyond me.

After all these hectic events, I cannot wait to leave. After all, a girl needs to get out of this madness once in a while. And this, my dear, is a welcome reprieve.

Pa-Duds Chronicle

Ang sarap maging busy...

...kaiiisip sa yo

Thank you for becoming my welcome distraction.

It's Official.

I hate you.

PAGOD(a Coldwave)

And the worst part is, before it gets any better
We're headed for a cliff
Then in the free fall I will realize
I'm better off when I hit the bottom
But turn it off
in all my spite, in all my spite
I'll turn it off

-Turn It Off (Paramore)

Pwedeng bumuntong hininga ng sobrang haba?

Just for a few minutes, I just want to do something non-work related, thus, this post. For some reason, I am physically weary. Is it because I'm not getting any sleep? Or maybe its the bad chi of this cubicle? Or maybe I'm just tired of it;this status quo, this never ending wait for the unknown, everything.

This too shall pass. Think of happy thoughts.

On a completely unrelated note, I was surprised by the revelation that contrary to popular beliefs (within the family, of course), my Mom actually wants me to get married soon. She wants to have a grandchild na daw. And here I was thinking they were just NR on the thought of their children having a family of their own. Don’t worry mom, I'm working on it (the marriage, not the kids).Vegas wedding, anyone?

Anyare?!?

Oo. Super busy week. Naiisip ko pa lang ang gagawin ko, natotoxic na ako. There's just so many things to do, so many people to meet, so many events to attend and organize, so little time.

Pero I'm not complaining. These are really good things happening.

This week, I never even noticed the significance of 11.11.11. Or November 11 for that matter bilang may "unforgettable experience" lang.

Anyway, I finally go my visa. Yeeeees! This is it. I'm actually overwhelmed by the people wanting to see me when I go to the States. Even my grade school friend whom I haven't seen since 1997 asked me to meet up with him when I get there. That's so nice of him.

I cannot wait to go to SF, my "favorite" city and meet Georgeous*, Dhangkers and Hazey.

Promising. Very promising journey indeed.

It's A Thank You, Lord Day!

One.
My prayer is finally answered and it's a resounding YES. Praise the Lord! This is really it; God's plans are finally set in motion. I can just feel it. Hello, new world. Hello, new beginning.

Two.
I have a new phone. And my contact list has been erased. All of it. Talk about starting fresh.

Three.
Your one month's up. Thank you for NOT taking your last chance. Goodbye.

The Involuntary

She stares outside her window looking at the pouring rain and counting every second that passes her by. She knows that this will only get her down, and yet, she basks under the heavy weight of reliving the past--- the past that has been her mind's playground where she can freely run with memories of him.

Her heart throbs in pain, her breathing becomes laborious, and her hands begin to tremble at the anguish of wanting to hold him, but can't.

Yet, she savors this suffering.

Because it is only the ache in her heart that can validate that what they had was real. Not now, but at some point, it had been real.

It had not been a few seasons ago when she would wake up to his smile and the gentle touch of his hand on her face, making her feel precious and loved. She would look forward to every daylight as this would bring a new moment for her to relish the comfortable feeling of him beside her. She would longingly kiss his lips and whisper a line from a song they both love, as music had been their secret code to express how they feel. His breath, her promise, the lingering embrace. She thought these would last forever.

Until one day, she woke up and it was all gone.

Gone.

Now, she only wakes up as an involuntary motion that happens to her every single day. She walks not to go anywhere but because she can no longer bear lying at that crumpled bed he used to sleep on, or bear sitting at that chair where he used to wait as she takes her time getting dressed. Everything is involuntary... sleeping, rising, crying, breathing. She was not living. She was merely existing.

She fears not of growing old alone and unwanted. She fears of growing old without him.

No. She was not unloved. She could have had a chance to be with someone. And yet, it doesn't matter to her anymore. Because what good would that be if that someone is not him?

How can she have any shot at happiness?

She can't and she won't.

Because when she gave her heart fully to him, she did not really get it back.

And now she's just an empty piece of shell.. broken and alone.

She suffers the worst kind of loneliness because the path of solitude has been paved by her own hands all along.


Now, that is voluntary.



(video from: www.youtube.com)

*** This is purely the work of the creative mind of the author which may or may not be based on real life. Paduds!

On Being Brave Enough To Start Again

JUL. 27, 2011
By KAT GEORGE
(from: www.thoughtcatalog.com)

We’ve all felt the sting of heartbreak at one time or another. And even though our experiences are not all alike—varying in extremity from unrequited crushes to soul-mates lost—between our collective, vast array of disappointments, our damp, tear stained pillow cases and brooding, lonely days, we’ve probably all had the same thought at some point: I’m not doing this again. Because no matter how you go through it, or what way you look at it, heartbreak is a taxing exercise.

There are many different ways of dealing, from the stoic, silent suffering of the proud, to the hysterical, lurid self-destruction of the openly distraught; having your heart broken is always a process. No matter how you deal, heartbreak can drain you entirely, both emotionally and physically, and sap your energy on a daily basis, especially where you have a drawn out healing period. But the worst part of having your heart broken sometimes doesn’t manifest until you feel strong again and steel your resolve—it’s the promise you make to yourself that you’ll never be heartbroken again.

It’s painful because you know it’s not you, it’s not right, and because your decision inhibits you from making contact the way you used to. But your aversion to heartbreak is overwhelming, and controls all your actions to the point of self-sabotage, which your wrought subconscious by now deems to be self-preservation. You don’t want to spend those months drinking alone in your room every night. You don’t want to end evenings out with friends sprawled across some dingy bathroom floor, your cheeks stained with mascara and your head resting against the porcelain. You don’t want to lie in bed until 3pm everyday with nothing but white noise in your head. You just don’t want to feel any of those feelings again—emptiness, sorrow, rejection—the ones that came from you letting yourself be vulnerable to someone else. You don’t ever want to relinquish that sort of power to someone again.

Every now and then you’ll meet someone new. Someone maybe your heart would have raced away with, before you experienced the crippling agony of having it broken. And yeah, maybe your heart’s been repaired since, maybe you’re as happy as you’ve ever been and entirely satisfied with yourself and your life—but that’s just the point, isn’t it? You’re no longer prepared to disrupt the harmony. You barely survived it—the first time your world was picked up and shaken like a shitty little snow globe—and you’re not willing to hedge a bet that you’ll survive it a second time.

So you’ll push the new ones away instinctively. Half of you will be relieved and the other half will pang with melancholy. You want to be braver—because when it comes down to the bones of it, all you really are is scared. You wish it was as simple as calling out to your mother and having her check under your bed and in the closet for the boogey man, but you’re on your own now, with no one to protect you from night terrors but yourself. You sometimes think the conflict inside you is tantamount to spilt milk and you feel petty and selfish, but you’ve become so accustomed to living on the back foot you don’t know how to leap forward anymore.

You’re not a bad person—you know you’re not—you have so much love to give, but you’ve never feared anything more than giving it. It seems like such a shame and waste, but at the same time entirely necessary. You desperately want to be inspired again, to hold someone’s hand in the street, to have them brush the hair from your eyes as you rest your face on their chest in bed on lazy Sundays. You want someone to tell you they love you in the dim half-light of morning, you want someone you can cook dinner for, you want someone whose wounds you can lick. You want someone who is at once your best friend but with whom you share the secret sweetness of sex, and a heightened physical and emotional intimacy. And yet: wanting is not the same as having, and you let them all pass by you and around you, like wind whipping against your ankles. Your heart is still and safe.

Yeah, Yeah, Yeah

I'm doing better now. I told you once the weather clears up, the blues would go away. Plus the fact that I've been listening to 90's songs all afternoon. Good vibes baby.

it just made me realize na ang emo-emo ko na, ang bata ko pa lang. nyahahaha. How I could possibly relate to these songs without actually being in 'that moment', I have no idea.

Maybe I just have a good ear and taste for music--- a quality which I would require from my boyfriend. That's non negotiable. I mean, i can't imagine myself sitting inside his car and listening to R&B or hiphop. I would die. I don't expect that we'd listen to the same songs ALL the TIME. Variation is expected, as well. Our relationship should be a journey of new discoveries, if not of places, then of good music.

And with that requirement set, I would like to just say, so far, so good.:-)

747

by Kent

Still one of my favorite songs EVER. Reminds me of Remote Control Weekends.

...And Something else.

Silence, like a whisper
Maybe tomorrow it won't be here
So tomorrow we could teach them
Some new styles

You're such a killer
So shoot me down again
It won't hurt when the killing is done by a friend

Silence, like a whisper
So this is all we need
The fully air conditioned sound of speed
A violent whisper
And this time it's for real
So this day I made plans for us to leave

Silence, why won't you listen
Maybe it's just me
but sometimes it's impossible to breathe
A violent whisper
Maybe this time it won't heal

Maybe this time it will bleed until I'm free

we ran out of time... leave it all behind.




source: www.youtube.com and www.sing365.com

Seeing Your Ex

Aug. 24, 2011
By Brent Delaney
www.thoughtcatalog.com


There they are on the crowded street like a hallucination in the pregnant air. You are immediately hit by a bolt of anxiety while the word f*&^ skips over and over in your head like a roughed up CD. Your first impulse is to toss yourself into the nearby alley, but it's too far gone. They see you. You are two bar magnets simultaneously attracted and repelled by each other, north and south poles wildly confused. The sweltering tension as you approach each other climaxes in a, "Hi." Then, an awkward conversation bumbles along in an effort to disregard the coffin of memories anchoring every word. You brandish your shield, calling to arms everything in your reserve in a noticeably forced bluff of contentment. You uneasily shake hands or hug as if you've lost all knowledge of how to hug. And you continue along the filthy sidewalk, treading over cracks as you are struck with murky emotions of nostalgia.

It's a near-death ordeal where brain activity surges and a mashup of all your memories with that person plays on and on and on through invisible earphones. You can't shut the music off. It crescendos and you remember every nondescript detail. The way you changed hand positions when you went on walks together, sometimes intertwined, sometimes palms diagonally overlapping. The way you couldn't grasp how this person you're so in love with could actually like the medicinal taste of kale. The way you held their face or stared up at them anticipating a moment of vulnerability. The way they touched your leg under a table filled with your friends and how that small gesture gave you a profound feeling of support.

It is then that a decrescendo occurs and a cold stream runs through you as you remember that monumental fight you two got into, retreating into your corners of the ring, waiting for the other to send the first SOS, the first apology, the first admittance of wrongdoing. The way you felt at first and the way your relationship crawled towards a routine complacency, dispiritedly trying to regain that electric current of the initial few months when time was irrelevant. The way you both wanted different things in life, but kept an ongoing, unspoken mantra that you were bound by something stronger than your own selfishness.

It was like any other relationship of both positive and negative charges. Just like any other.

And suddenly, it's all over. You start thinking about your own life again, your present problems and the fact that you need to buy Parmesan if you want to actually enjoy that spaghetti you plan on eating. The memories evaporate. Who you were and that particular stage of your life recedes back into the depths of you, laid to rest in a place with no gravestone; a place you will visit less and less because, no matter how much effort, you can't resuscitate the past.

Why I Need Therapy

There are days when I am just overflowing with happiness, with creative juices, with the zest for life.

There are days, though, when I just feel like curling into a ball, crying myself to sleep, and wishing never to wake up.

Compared to other people, I have no major issues to speak of. I had a great childhood, I've no angst, and I am not at war with the world. And yet, I choose to pick my scabs so I can bleed, so I can remind myself that I am still alive, albeit, bordering the line of just existing.

It's not that I am not a happy person. I am. I would also like to believe that I have a talent in making other people happy. I am a firecracker, so they say. Never losing energy, always laughing, always in high spirit.

...until something bursts my bubble.

It could be a song that reminds me of my ex. It could be the weather that prevents me from going out with friends, holding me immobile and glued to my bed. It could be the sight of happy couples or carefree children.

To simplify things, I am a self-confessed, non-clinically diagnosed manic-depressive.

For some time, I thought that I was cured of this disorder (for more or less 5 years). But something triggered it and I don't think I need to name it.

You may be thinking that it's only because I was recently heartbroken that I'm swinging from happiness to depression in a snap of a finger.

FALSE.

I've always been a kindred soul since I can remember. I was that kid who listened intently to sad songs, feeling hopeless for a heartbreak that has not yet arrived. I was that teenager who wrote poetries and short stories to a love unknown. I was that 20-year old fresh graduate who stared at the ceiling endlessly at night thinking my life was not how it was supposed to be. And now, I am a twentysomething career woman who works 12 hours a day and drowns 2 hours a night at the thought of ending up alone.

What is important to note, however, is that I am not dishonest with myself. I never pretend to be happy when I'm not.I never incurred the habit of lying, not even to myself. If anyone would ask me if I was fine, I need not come up with a verbal response. They just need to see me, my eyes, and the way I slumped in my chair uncomfortably, and they would automatically know. I am that transparent.

And tonight, I am once again spiralling into the bottomless pit of self-destruction. Of hate. of Anger. Of helplessness and hopelessness. Forgetting how far I've come along. Forgetting the overflowing love I've been receiving.

But only for tonight. Or until this weather clears up.

Because that's the beauty of a self-confessed, non-clinically diagnosed manic-depressive. You always know that things will be better and that you will be happy again.

Until the next bubble bursting.

Sometimes, When It's Raining

By Kat George
Oct. 19, 2011
(Source:www.thoughtcatalog.com)

Sometimes, when it's raining, I think about you. I think about you all the way over there, with all that ocean and all those years between us. I think about if you're doing well, what your bedroom looks like, if you enjoy your job. I think about the times when there wasn't any ocean between us and my time was your time. I think about when I knew the answers about you, because they were my answers as much as they were yours. Sometimes, when it's raining, I wonder if it's raining where you are too.

Sometimes, when it's raining, I pretend I'm kissing you. I pretend we're lying in bed all morning with the grey half light and the patter of rain on the roof and the sloshing sound tires make on the bitumen as they speed by the window outside. I pretend you're bringing me tea and we're sitting side by side in bed reading the paper, you telling me the comics and me failing at Sudoku. I pretend we're playing Quiz Master and we're winning. Sometimes, when it's raining, I close my eyes and pull the duvet over my face, and pretend you're breathing by my side.

Sometimes, when it's raining, I feel a little lonely. The grey sky reminds me so much of London's sky, the greyness that enveloped us, even in the summer. I miss my friends, my family, you, especially when my feet are wet and I'm so far from home. I wonder if you're thinking about me too, and I know you're not, and I get to feeling so isolated and worn out. Sometimes, when it's raining, I wish I really was alone, that I had nothing in the past, and only a moment to hide from the world while the sky releases madness

Sometimes, when it's raining, I listen to love songs. I plan my wedding and it's not to you, even though I once thought it would be. I sashay across my room and concoct fantasy love stories in which someone falls for me, madly and passionately. Not the way that you did but in a way which would last forever with every conceivable grandness announcing its arrival. I think about falling in love again, and I promise myself I will, one day. Then I put that promise inside a box, and I put the box in my pocket. Sometimes, when it’s raining, I like to make believe.

Sometimes, when it's raining, I begin to feel alive. I start to have those clichéd thoughts like "everything is washed away". I think of you fondly, without remorse or longing, and decide that the rain will bring me a new beginning. My mind clears and I begin to see the future spanning before me, as I turn away from the past laid out behind. There are ways for me to say goodbye and when it's raining, sometimes I say them all in whispers you'll never hear. Sometimes, when it's raining, I like to run outside in all my clothes, and let the water to soak through to my skin.

Forget Reality: Let's Fall In Love

By Kat George 

Oct. 20, 2011

From (www.thoughtcatalog.com)

We snagged, just for a second there, didn’t we? We bumped our heads together like idiots and we both came up concussed. Everything was going so wonderfully, I was so delirious for you, but then… well, it’s life happening, not some romantic dream. And I hope, I really do wish it with my eyes squeezed tightly closed and my hands balled firmly into fists at my sides as I concentrate, that next time we see each other we forget what’s “real” and indulge in our reality instead.

Because our reality, right now, it’s just about falling in love. Let’s put the real stuff aside—the past, our insecurities, all the baggage we’ve imported from all our journeys—and let’s just be. This is our moment to be fanciful, and we might not get another one, at least not together. I don’t want to have to “deal” and “cope” and “work” yet. For now I just want to kiss you and lose myself in all the small moments when you wrap your arms all the way around me.

Things are complicated, I know, but let’s soar above that, at least for a day. Let’s make getting to know each other about all the wonderful things that made us fall into each other’s embrace in the first place. Let’s not mar it with all the ugly crap we’ve filled our pockets with over the course of the years we’ve already lived without each other’s company. And then, once we’re madly in love, and only then, we can unleash it all upon each other, so that we’re equipped to deal with it the way that lovers do—patiently and compassionately.

You know how it is when we’re laughing? That’s how I want it to be all the time when we’re together. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not idealistic or selfish—if you’re having a bad day I will be there to hold you and hold you until you don’t feel sore anymore, and I’ll do it without complaint or request. I’ll do it because I care about you deeply. But listen: we’re not ready for the heaviness of the past yet. We can share and laugh and rub away each other’s daily miseries but I don’t want to delve into the backwardness of all that came before. Not yet, at least.

I want you to trust me and know that every time I look at you all I see is wonderfulness. I see lights and rainbows and everything good and awesome about this world all radiating out of you at once. Yes, I’m intense and yes, I’m romantic, but can’t you just take my adoration for a second and let it make you as happy as it makes me? Relax into me, because I’ve got you on a pedestal now, and there’s no one else in the room but us. And this is half the reason I don’t want to share the dirty stuff with you—because every now and then you make me feel so warm it’s as though nothing else ever existed.

We could be best friends, you and me; we’re so alike in so many ways. And now we have to decide whether we’re going to knock our likenesses against each other and explode into tiny bits that splatter against the walls, streaking downwards and pooling in insidious puddles, or if we can make those likenesses build each other up, like great cities or rolling mountains. I’d like to think that we could be a team, that we could conquer everything together. That we’ll draw from each other to be stronger and better. That we’ll still be holding hands through all of winter’s blizzards.

 

Dear 3-Day Work Week

Please be good to me. I've had a pretty good weekend. Let this not be ruined by irate clients, emotional instability and unrealized expectations. I've invested so much in this for me to be disappointed. Show me some love and I will love you back. I promise.

A.B.


Sorry for the big pictures, extending beyond the borders of my blog theme. I don't know how to edit it.

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