4.30.2012

The Day After You Broke Up With Me
APR. 30, 2012
By KARYN SPENCER
(www.thoughtcatalog.com)


I blamed Groupon for convincing me that all of their stupid “adventures” were good ideas. Of course that dinner cruise was going to be full of bridge-and-tunnel drunks; I’m sorry, that was my bad call for a birthday present.

I blamed soccer, video games, and sci-fi. Most specifically Star Wars and Battlestar Gallactica.

I blamed my parents for always telling me how great I am. They are very believable, and it may have instilled an unrealistic expectation that others who did not birth me would feel the same.

I blamed the masseuse who squeezed my arm the way you always did. I didn’t want to cry in that massage chair.

I blamed the mean girls in school for being mean. Some of it may have rubbed off on me. Sometimes I hear myself repeating things they once said and I think, this isn’t me, what am I saying? Why am I trying to sound so tough?

I blamed my job for taking so much of my patience and leaving me with very little left over for my real life.

I blamed every gift I ever gave you, because maybe they were too much.

I blamed every gift I wanted to give you but stopped myself from buying, because maybe I should have bought them.

I blamed my cat, because you’re allergic, and cats have a lot of hair, why doesn’t someone do something about how much damned hair cats spread around, that’s no fun for anyone.

I blamed your girlfriend wish list for including “opinionated,” because that encouraged me to say what was on my mind.

I also blamed your list for “non-judgmental,” because how can I be non-judgmental when judging people is so much fun? Have you seen people lately?

I blamed Harlem for a lot; I finally freely admit that I don’t like Harlem at all, and I want every one of those $25 cab rides back.

I blamed your friends for not convincing you that this is stupid and telling you to buy me some flowers, promise that you’ll never do it again, and offer up some couples therapy as insurance.

I blamed all the fruits and vegetables we’ve been eating lately. That much health food sets anyone on edge.

I also blamed all of the dessert we ate in the beginning, all blissed-out in love and “Yes let’s share that cake, yum, why not.”

I blamed the ten pounds I gained in four months as a result of all the cake.

I blamed how awful I’m sure I looked when we started exercising together.

I blamed your job for being over every day at 5 PM and providing you with extra holidays and summer Fridays. Underworked you and overworked me was a tricky combination.

I blamed that time I asked you if you were on your period, because I guess guys don’t like being accused of that, but wow, you took that harder than I expected. Do you know how many times women get asked that and are expected to laugh in response? It doesn’t seem fair.

I blamed your “Keep Calm and Carry On” poster because, well, you didn’t do what it suggested.

I blamed my friends for saying, “Yeah, okay, I guess” instead of “What the hell are you talking about?” when I told them that we were in love after dating for two months.

I blamed karaoke so hard.

I blamed my apartment for being 170 square feet; a size that several of my friends believe is the sole reason we broke up, because what two people and a shedding cat can live in 170 square feet without killing each other?

I blamed all of my friends in relationships because they always joke around with each other and it seems fun and no one gets hurt.

I blamed how casually I seem to approach things. Maybe you didn’t realize that you were everything to me, because I’ve been hurt before and I try not to make such a big deal of things so that people don’t know things are a big deal to me. But they are. You were. Everything.

I blamed every happy couple holding hands on the sidewalk.

I blamed Sleep No More, because it put a wedge in between the two of us that night, and now that wedge is permanent.

I blamed Britain, because you love all things British and I could never get on board with that. This includes, of course, Coldplay, and every time you said “bollocks.”

I blamed Christmas, because we had such a great one together. I blamed the hotel suite, the stroll down 5th Avenue looking in shop windows, and the tree at Rockefeller Center. I blamed hot chocolate and that thought I had that I’d be warm with or without it, because I had you.

I blamed the false security that you made me feel, the safety to be myself, when you secretly wanted me to be someone else.

I blamed unconditional love, because that’s what I felt for you, and if your love had conditions, what good is mine?

I blamed the hopeful voice in my head that always silenced the doubtful voice in my head, saying, “Stop asking yourself if it’s okay to be happy and just know that it is; you deserve this. Everything is exactly as it should be.”

I now blame myself for wondering, however briefly yesterday, if I should erase my edges, soften my sarcasm, and paint myself into the picture of perfection that you require.

Today is a new day, and I face it happily, knowing that everything is, in fact, still exactly as it should be. 




This is such a fun read. Especially on this day. Of all days :-)

A Song For Stalkers

I'm watching you watch over me and I got the greatest view from here. :-)

- Silverchair

The Weekend in Photos

Heat Me Baby One More Time

AAARGH. This heat is killing me. LITERALLY.

I've been running a fever since yesterday morning. I don't know if it's because of the flu shot I had, or because I had to wake up early yesterday with only 3 hours of sleep and a bad case of hangover, or because I was outside with the temperature rising to 36+ degrees. All I know is that this terrible heat is aggravating whatever sickness I have.

I think i need to change continents.

Anybody wants to help?

Somebody That I Used to Know

 I actually didnt know this song until a friend posted in Facebook. I think because some AI contestants performed this. wow, 173 Million views and I just heard of it now??? I am quite disappointed with myself considering how passionate I am about music. Oh well, this is what happens when you're super busy with work and school. I could totally see why people are charmed by this song.


Well, the video is very artsy and second, the tune is quite catchy. It actually kind of reminds me of a Sting/ Police song. And the lyrics. Man, I could totally relate. From a lover to a stranger. A bitch of a cycle. But yes, I was glad it was over.

 LYRICS: Now and then I think of when we were together
 Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
 I told myself that you were right for me
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember
 You can get addicted to a certain kinda sadness
 Like resignation to the end, always the end
 So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I'll admit that I was glad that it was over

 But you didn't have to cut me off
Make it like it never happened and that we were nothing
 I don't even need your love, but you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough

 No, you didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
Guess that I don't need that though
 Now you're just somebody that I used to know

Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
 But had me believin it was always something that I'd done
But I don't wanna live that way
Reading into every word you say
You said that you could let it go
 And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know-oh-oh

SOURCE: Copied from MetroLyrics.com
Video from youtube.com

The Return of Kid Bibo

Guess who conceptualized the story, script and dance? I think I should be in a different career since I have been tasked to do all non-work related things in all office events. Hosting, Organizing, dancing, you name it, I've done it. In fairness, di pa ako nag effort diyan bilang naka skirt ako at nasa baba ko lang ang president ng company. Di masyadong performance level, pang kulit lang :-) Apologies for the blurry part, may fog machine and bubble machine kasi kami (EFFORT!).

The Curse of the Flat Footed Family

My family may have been blessed with good looks and intelligence (yes, I am audacious enough to say this, this is my blog anyway) but a downside to being a member of the Pangan clan is their notoriety for having thin hair and horrible sense of balance, both of which I am fortunate not to have. 

But, my good fortune does not extend to my family, most especially to my Mom who is a major klutz. She has the worst sense of balance! A few years back, she slipped and fell at the marketplace and almost lost an ear to the meat grinder ( eeew, i know). Now, she slipped at the mall, bumped her head and fractured her arm, thus requiring her to be in a sling and be immobile for the next 2-3 days. Good thing it's nothing major, although I hope she doesn't need an operation for her fracture to heal. She's even laughing inside the emergency room while they joked about how appropriate her tshirt and shorts (beach) attire was for her water-less swimming escapade (hmmm, maybe that's why nobody was taking us seriously and made us wait forever for her to get an xray). 

Get well soon, mumsy. 

Tie Me to the Bed

So that I wont need to get up to go to work or attend school.

I'm just exhausted! I might have to give up on my social life at least until I get to complete my staff and be on target.

But until then, I guess no more Wasted Wednesday or Thirsty Thursdays.

Crap.

Now It's My Turn

I can't believe it. I'm chirpier that you are. That's new.

Cheer up, sweetheart. Things will get better. Always remember that you are an amazing person and you are very, very dear to me. Quit whining, love, and get back on your horse.

Remember, life is what you make it.

The Unspoken Absolute.

No matter what the standard conventions of right and wrong are, there's a certain sense of happiness knowing that you are loved--insanely, intensely, and unquestioningly loved.

And if I could, I would.

Welcome Back to the Academic World, Anna Banana!

nothing excites me more than going back to the academic world.

Scratch that, I'm lying. It's not the thought of reading chapter after chapter of books or figuratively burning my brows or losing much more sleep (what is sleep?) that makes me look forward to going to grad school. It's the prospect of shaking up the status quo that has become my life for the past five years. Of course, the sound of meeting boys sends some tingle down my spine (I'm still a very single woman, mind you), but more than that, its really the idea that i am finally making some progress after the breakup is what motivates me to dash out of the office at 5:15 and into my 6pm class.

My first week as a come backing student has, of course, gone without a hitch. NOT. You know me.I am a magnet for disaster and I attract embarrassing situations like a fly to a pile of poop. Eeew. Not the best analogy but I think you got my point.

March 26, first day of school. I arrived a few minutes before 6pm. Thankfully, my brother had enrolled late that's why he was there to give me directions to my first class. After the usual meet and greet and introduction to the subject, I felt like I was getting my groove back as a student. So far so good. Until I inadvertently entered the men's bathroom during breaktime.

Whaddup!

Good thing no one's there. Imagine if I entered the restroom and found my professor in the middle of his biz-ness. Na-ah. I think I'd be dropping that subject immediately. (On second thought, maybe not. It would put my 18grand to waste.)

Second day of school, I was running late because I had to take care of some client. I am still a very committed and full-fledged member of the working force, you know. After some irritating moments with my cab driver (who told me to transfer taxis because he doesn't want to be questioned on his route choices) and Legolas being a needy friend, I was in a state of panic by the time I got to Rockwell. Without elaborately reading my class schedule, I scanned the map and searched the amphitheater where Managerial Accounting class was being held. I entered the class and found myself in the center of everyone's attention. I was 30 minutes late, entered the front door (not the back door which would have been more discreet), and almost knocked myself down when my bag caught the door. Fine. I'm still good. No biggie. I scanned the room and and two good looking guys made way in their aisle where i could sit. Hmmm, finally, some potentials. Whoohooo. I settled down and the cute guy to my left gave me a class card. I got my schedule and when I was about to look for my section, I felt disturbed. This does not feel right. I asked the cute guy if it was Managerial Accounting for standard and to my horror, he said yes. DEMMIT. I was in the wrong class.

Counting to 10, I picked up my bag, returned the class card to the cutie, and made my way down to the front door. Of course, so as not to look arrogant to the professor (late na nga, lalabas pa, he must have thought), I told him on my way out that I was in the wrong class. The humiliation just goes on and on.

Finally, I got to the right class where I was 45 minutes late and my professor marked me as absent. What's worse, NO CUTE GUYS. BOOOOOO!

So that's how my first week as a student went.

The adventures of Anna Banana, the ultimate academician, shall continue.