ABOUT TIME YA STOPPED RUNNIN'

Historically, my first instinct when faced with conflict is to retreat. 

To run away, to head towards the path of least resistance. Whether that was towards friends with sympathetic ears, far away destinations, novels, psychotropics, or the comfort of my bedroom, it's always a result of that primal, knee-jerk reaction. I would rather spare myself the pain of confrontation, whether towards other people, or myself, than to face it and get hurt - which spirals out into other aspects of my life, naturally. 

Today, I once again find myself teetering on the precipice of another nervous breakdown. The writin's scrawled all over the goddam wall; a veritable Cave of Altamira: insomnia, sluggishness, bad skin, crippling anxiety, self-destructive tendencies. I think I was looking for healing in a certain narrative that involved a past bully. Unfortunately for this anti-heroine, I never got the closure I sought in the narrative, because the Contrabeedus is still a Contrabeedus ("I respect you but goddamn, I hate you, ninja!"). Indeed, that Bone of Contention is too big to choke on, let alone swallow. We all know I'm bursting at the seams with empathy, but I've got none to spare for this girl because holding a grudge is one of my less desirable character traits. 

Instead of inflicting any more pain unto myself, I'll just take the high road - to the beach. At least I've got science to prove that salt water and sunshine heals everything. Thankful that Liwa has always been a balm for me to revel in Happiness as well as Rock-Bottom Murky Sadness. Thankful too for all the opportunities I can steal to retreat into her sunny, sticky embrace to disconnect from the toxicity, triggers, traps, plasticity and pecking order of Imperial Manila. The sea's always been about restoration for me, anyway.

April 2017

Some furious feelings rush through my veins
I try to make sense of whatever remains

of the hues of the blues
and the yellows and white
of all of the ocean bathed in sunlight

of the laziest days spent by the sea
and the haziest daze of you, and of me

surrounded by friends, by puppies, and waves
of consciousness, seawater and the love that I gave

Wait, was it love? I'm really not sure,
'cause when you're down by the ocean, some feelings endure
and some wash away when the tide bides its time,
it follows no cadence, no reason, no rhyme

I'm prideful and arrogant, always thinkin' I'm right
always trying with all of my might
not to show my soft edges, my vulnerable side
but whenever I'm there, all these pretenses slide

from darkness to Sunny Side Up
a place that upends all the wrongs right up

I'm trying to figure out these feelings of everything:
the true color of your eyes when we're in good lighting,
why the sea calms me down so damn much,
the carefully crafted dance of our emotions, and such.

All's I know's you saw me, and I saw you,
You gotta know that's something I don't let many men do
I let you into my world, broke my defenses, and then
I can't wait to see you, to do it again.

A Shoutout to the Universe, I'm looking for love

Dear Universe,

This 2017, one of my biggest wishes is to finally find the person that I want to spend the rest of my life with. I know that this blog is often a receptacle to house stories and anecdotes about the temporary men that pass through my life, but this time, I'm hoping that you hear me because I feel that I am ready to receive love with someone that loves me just as much with open arms.

I was actually contemplating the question, of whether I wanted love or whether I just wanted the high that came with flirting around. I want both. I want the delicious feeling of getting to know someone. The unwrapping and the discovery. The accompanying intimacy, not just the sex, that follows. The intimacy that covers the little things to the big things. I just want to share my life with someone. I want a king to walk alongside me on my journey. 

I wonder where life will take me this year. But I hope that I can look back on this time and smile, because you heard me, Universe. I know for sure that there's someone out there who wants me as much as I want him.

The man that balances earthy practicality with exciting, fiery passion. The man that knows when to be practical and grounded, as well as spontaneous and exciting. A man who will show up for me and walk alongside me, can handle the light that I give without getting overwhelmed by the glare. A man whose intensity meets mine, and is compatible with mine. A man who does not trigger my anxiety. A man with soul, who understands my love for art, music, traveling and all things good in life because he loves them too. I ask that when we meet, I know immediately that he is the one, that he will leave no room for doubt. That his intentions towards me are clear. Universe, you know how much I've been knocked around in love before. I want someone I can be vulnerable, open and loving with. I know I have a lot of love to give, Universe. Please introduce me to someone who is worthy of it. Please.

Looking for a Song

December 2015 marked the first one's arrival. There were three of them. Each one's name starting with the same letter. Each one better than the last. But sometimes, thoughts return to the one that came before this last one, and to the one that started it all. It's all but proof that certain feelings still persist. The memories of the songs you gifted each one comes alive in your head; a playlist for all the loves that came and went. That's how you show love the best, isn't it? By sharing your music. Yes.




The first one turned you on to J. Cole. That's why you loved him, among other reasons. But he also taught you that similar music taste and mutual proclivity towards abusing certain substances didn't mean he felt the same way for you. In fact, you were alike in the worst way: your emotional unavailability. In a rage, you destroyed his album in your garage. Tell me, were you angry at him, or at yourself?




The second came in like a comet; his presence compelled you to produce a zine, your first body of work in 4 years. You were like a bitch in heat for him, you would have spread your legs for him in a heartbeat. If your brain could sound like a song during the time he resided in your heart, it would be that one by James Blake and Bon Iver. The one that sounded like a night sky adorned with knowable constellations. But he did not budge. Not one fucking bit. And you know better (now) than to push up against a wall. Ask yourself: did you want him, or did you want to be him?

Yet, you don't love them anymore. That's the important part. Twinges of tenderness appear once in awhile, as they are wont to do - because you fucking loved them. This is the last time you will write about them. This is you bidding them goodbye: instead of pretending they do not exist, you pay tribute to who they were when your souls intertwined with your words.
The third one, well, he doesn't have a song yet. It will appear in due time, at random. Don't rush it. Just remember to be present, to be open

You Move Me

(For N, with acknowledgment to Gina Loring)

You move me.

You move me, like the Cordilleras in November, when there are no tourists

and it’s cold, when the mountains outside my window gently remind me that God exists.

Like trusting the Universe,

You move me, like Deftones, Age 25, like Wolfgang, Age 14.

You move me, like Don Glover singing a Tamia song, like

Frida’s art, Whang Od’s grace, Solange’s hair,

Like the first time I realized I was happy being alone

That it was worth celebrating, coming home to the feeling that I am complete,

And truly believing it.

Like making friends with the people in the hostel, knowing we would be sisters for life,

 watching the sunset on a deserted beach together in silence.

You move me, like a fat girl going to the beach in a bikini for the first time, because she finally felt free and she claimed beauty as her birthright.

Like the time I met Evan Dando after a show. God do I love Evan Dando.

And I was so overcome that I couldn’t hold my phone up to capture us meeting, and all that exists are terrible selfies from that night, because I was nervous and he wrote all these great songs that made me feel warm and want love after denying that I did for so long.

Chino Moreno, John Martyn, Mike Kinsella, Eddie Vedder, Jermaine Cole, I LOVE those guys.

They were constants in my headphones at a time when it felt like continents were shifting, drifting away.

I have abandonment issues, you see,

and when girls like us see something we love, we hold it tight

like promises, 

like Pigeon Pose, 

like Daddy’s hand even if you’re 30 fucking years old.

You move me like postcards from places I want to visit

And being a loner, please understand it’s special when I think about wanting to take you with me.

You move me like the very first bowl of bun cha,

A tall glass of ca phe sua da.

You move me, like truth, grace, peace, love, and light

Because I was in the dark for awhile, and you came in like stars

Guiding our ancestors across the sea, in the days before compasses trying to find land.

You move me, like smiles from strangers, 

like a soft bed, 

like Shakti coming in and sending me dancing back to life, like

Love unconditional: when my twin nieces were 2 years old, and the way they smiled and said my name when I arrived at their house.

You move me like my mother telling me about shame, and how she, like me, carried it deep within her heart for years, letting it go first by calling it by its name.

You move me like hip-hop, like circles, like cycles, like ciphers

You move me, like leaving a toothbrush at a lover’s house

Hinting at the possibility of love.

You move me, like Common and Badu

Recognizing the Light in each other,

Standing tall

and coming together

in

Love,

Like sunshine,

Like lifetimes,

You most definitely move me.

Leave a toothbrush at your crib love

GOMD; J. Cole.

As usual, I haven't visited this blog in awhile. I tend to let a lot of things pile up before I decide to open up about my feelings in a written medium. I think it's safe to say that I may be going through a period of depression right now. It started in December, permeated through all of January, and it's only the start of February and I still feel like shit. I turn 30 in 24 days, and I think that I'm going through my Saturn Return. That entails a huge overhaul of priorities in all aspects of life, basically. A chunk of my depression has basically circulated around my old ways of doing things being challenged (very Saturn Return) because I seem to be outgrowing them.

The truth is, I feel more comfortable with who I am as a person, but there are still things that trigger my sense of self, and usually those things involve the input of people I care about. If I could only learn how to think for myself and back up what I truly feel instead of caving to the opinions of my family and friends about how I should run my life, I think I would feel less sad and attacked. It's a work in progress, though.

Oh yeah, I also went blonde in 2015.

Oh my God I think I may have fallen in love last year, though. For a really long time, for a huge chunk of my 20s in fact, I was hung up on a dude that wasn't even my boyfriend. Why did it take so long to get over him? I guess I just wasn't over myself, because I couldn't deal with the fact that he didn't love me. Towards the end of December, I met this guy and I felt like things changed forever. He is half-Filipino, half-Syrian and based in Lebanon. He is a musician (of course), and raps in Arabic and English, slays in both. And he is beautiful. I will never get sick of looking at that face, I think. I'm fairly sure he doesn't love me back, but I am thankful I met him because I feel like I have a better idea of what I want in a future partner. I like the Western worldview, and the intrepid, artistic soul, but I admit I also like the Filipino family values he seems to still uphold.

Yes I still like brown boys. And halfies. I like halfies. And beards. Um.

However, I've had to let my feelings cool down because he doesn't live here. I imagine if we lived in the same metropolis, we may have been dating by now. He may not feel the same way about me, but I'm fairly sure I made him think, and that's fine.

There have been a slew of men after him, and I think I'm just looking for attention in order to get over him. Whatever. I just need to do what I have to do, I guess. 

I hope that the next time I come back in here, it's to write happy things.

A Poem for J, 08/25/15.

I'm hard to be with,

I'm cheesy and blue,

But I'd like to climb mountains

and eat pierogis with you.

All flowers in time bend towards the sun

All Flowers In Time Bend Towards The Sun; Jeff Buckley and Elizabeth Fraser.

It's been awhile since I last wrote in this blog, and it also seems as if a lifetime of events has happened since then. I think that from now on, when I write, I will preface each entry with a song that means a lot to me at the moment. Apparently, Jeff and Liz collaborated because they were infatuated with each others' voices. Isn't that sweet? I also really love this verse:

"All flowers in time bend towards the sun / I know you say that there's no one for you, / but here is one."

I remember September of 2014 being especially difficult and dark. It's nice to know that from where I stand, it's much lighter, and for this I'm thankful. May to July of this year were especially unforgiving, and on July 23rd I had a terrible panic attack that resulted in my parents sending me off to a Christian retreat in Batangas. At the time I was still struggling with money (one of my key insecurities at this age, actually), as well as a whole host of other things about adult life that I'd previously been trying to run away from. 

The people behind the retreat are dear friends, and so they sponsored my stay. Evangelical Christians can be a little bit overzealous whenever a secular person toys with the thought of using religion as a coping mechanism. That being said, I feel that my going to the retreat was actually meant to happen. After that retreat, that amount of time allowed me to screw my head back on properly; to reflect and pray about the things that caused me fear in the first place.

After that, a lot of things certainly changed. I'm not sure if it was due to me changing my mindset (as my older sister often likes to tell me to do when I am depressed), or if it was divine timing. Maybe a little bit of both.

One of my core beliefs in life is that everything is cyclical. Whenever you're at your worst, know that better things are yet to come. 

At one point, I was very much depressed about being single (in addition to 'grownup problems'), and this is because I felt that no one liked me in this country. Most of the men I considered worthy enough to date me were based abroad. As a result, I developed a coping mechanism that I wish I had when I was younger, and that was to be keenly aware about my boundaries and standards, as well as unfairly branded Pinoy boys unworthy to date me. If a man stayed on my mind past a month, it meant that there was something special about him. Funnily enough, when I stopped dragging relationships on longer than they should, that was when people started coming into my life. 

They're Called Heliconias,
090815.

In late August, I began talking to someone who I always admired from afar, and we spent Sunday together at his farm in Cavite. We continue to talk until today.

 I can tell that he is a gentle soul and I am quite fond of him. Being around him calms me down, and I don't have to swallow 2 Valiums/be stoned out of my mind/chain smoke out of nervousness around him. It's a novel and refreshing feeling. He is a take-charge kind of man, the kind that looks after everyone. He is also Pinoy, which makes me laugh because after chasing mediocre white men for awhile, I went back to loving boys with brown skin (which has always been my preference, anyway).

 I wonder how my relationship with this man will progress in the future, and where  the two of us will be the next time I decide to open this blog again.

That aside, things are much better now than they were earlier this year and things just seem to be getting better every day. For that, I'm really grateful.

I need coffee

I have always loved with wild abandon. Whether person or passion, the truth is that I have a tendency to dive right in and give everything I’ve got. I can already hear the people, the men especially, shouting warnings to their kin. “Oh, look! Here comes the Crazy Woman! Better run away or she’ll fall in love with you!” Sometimes I wonder if my propensity for deep love, and the fact that people know it, is what drives them away in fear. This used to bother me, before I was comfortable by myself.

Unfortunately, society is not made to accommodate wild lovers like me. They encourage us to tame that animal instinct, to place a heavy yoke around Heart’s neck and put it in a cage, to let Logic reign supreme. We are taught to fear our feelings instead of to sit with them and befriend them. That to be open about feelings is an act of bravery, or even foolishness. “Feelings are the enemy! Let’s build more walls to keep them out! Fuck feelings!” All Emotionally Open People, here’s the memo. Comply or run the risk of complete and public humiliation. Cordially yours, Messrs. Logical, Rational, Pragmatic, Practical Thinkers.

I’m cupping my hands over my ears, I don’t like this memo. So here’s what I’m gonna do: I’m just going to go up and kiss Logical, Rational, Pragmatic and Practical on the mouth, see how they like it. See if they ever even saw it coming. I assure you, they didn’t.

Today's headline reads: WILD WOMAN SWOOPS IN, THINKERS HAVE LOST THEIR MINDS!

Currently: Logical is pacing back and forth, creating grooves in the carpet where he steps, replaying the scenario again and again. Rational is freaking out because his favourite sack of marbles appear to have been misplaced (I pocketed them while I was squeezing his buttocks and biting his lower lip). Pragmatic is picking the skin off his fingers, it’s a nervous tic he’s carried since he was six. Practical has taken to Facebook, stalking photos and posts for clues.

At the end of the day, I’m still alone, but a little bit more pleased with myself than I should be.

WIP, 04142015.

The past year and a half, I've spent
building walls.

My hands are calloused and rough
from all the weight
of the tools I've acquired
to keep intruders out.

These walls, they're taller
than the pedestals I made
for my past lovers.
I'm not sure how I feel about this.

What a princess I would make,
a sight for sore eyes, dirty and determined
to build her castle by herself.
"Nope, no damsel in distress am I! No sir!"

The entire kingdom can hear me yelling.
"Nope! I don't need a man! I'm happy on my own!"
I wonder if they know
that I'm lying half the time.

In my haste, I've forgotten to make windows.
There's no light, but I guess
I confess:
I miss the sun.

anecdotes about random men, 04122015.

you are tall. taller than most of your peers by at least a head. you are lean. lean enough to look streamlined in your black slacks, matching belt and leather shoes and oxford shirt. all flat lines and angles. this indicates that you pay attention to how you dress; i love a man who knows what looks good on his body. i do not ever remember having noticed you before, but i definitely notice you now. i have known of you for more than a decade, your name thrown around carelessly among so many others that you all blend into one entity, as is typical when you are friends with an entire class from ateneo high school. or maybe my memory is failing me as i advance in age.

it occurs to me that you are touchy-feely around the girlfriends of your friends. it also occurs to me that i wish it was my shoulders that your arms would swoop over and grab, if only to drunkenly escort me to the bar. we are both single, after all.

i notice that you are a shitty dancer, but you love doing it alone. that is probably the only thing we have in common; letting our freak flags fly with wild abandon on the dance floor. i love when i ask you a question, your default answer is to close your eyes and smirk, and shrug your shoulders. you also do not notice that i am aggressively flirting with you, it almost feels like a slight. god, that's infuriating. truth is, i love a man who can infuriate me. it makes me want him more.

you are brimming with confidence, and that is a double-edged sword. i noticed it when you bought us all drinks when we decided to continue the party elsewhere. what with your newly-minted lawyer's salary, of course you can afford to spend that much on booze to impress your lady friends! of course you can! not that i'm complaining, no, because i never turn away free booze. i also noticed that when you smile for photos, you show all your teeth - i'm reminded of the faces apes make when they are threatened. you are probably the only person i know whose beauty is diminished when you smile. as i got to know you when you brought me home, there was more of you not to like. "women are commodities, just like men are commodities," you declared in the car, a little too over-confidently as we neared my house. i got out of the car, making an empty promise to hang out with you again - we are neighbors, after all - although i know deep in my heart of hearts we probably won't.

--------------

you are short. shorter than me by an inch. by virtue of this alone, i would never have noticed you, because i have imposed a superficial height limit upon the men i date (5'9 minimum, in case you wanted to know). i am beginning to understand why people think i am intimidating at first when i do not notice them.

unlike most filipinos, you have lidded eyes. not as heavily-lidded as mine, but noticeable enough to make you appear sleepy and disaffected - very much in line with the hipster image you so strongly try to cultivate. it is those eyes that i had the pleasure of looking into several times, and not by accident. i was testing the waters of propriety at that point, staring at you staring at me as you played a song i love on guitar, while i sang. our feet were touching as we faced each other, an indication i permitted you into my personal space. everyone around us was busy getting hammered; noticing us was the last of their priorities at that point. i think, during one of those many staredowns, that i accidentally glimpsed your soul, or that perhaps, you allowed me to.

"let's smoke in my tent," you offered, after we both agreed that the mogadon we crushed and snorted seemed to have little effect on us. i only recall the minty feeling it left on my nostrils. it was then i drew the conclusion that you had a high tolerance for drugs and alcohol. it's something i consider when i date men, because my own tolerance for substances is still very high, one of the remnants of a difficult and reckless youth i still keep with me to this day. nothing happened in the tent that night, but that's just as well, because we were left with nothing to talk about, or feel guilty for.

the next time i saw you, you sat next to me and regaled me with stories you thought would impress me, and i'll admit, i was impressed. whenever younger men try to win me over with how much they know, i find it cute. cute in the way that a puppy ingratiates itself to its master, the complete opposite of 'manly.' the attentiveness you gave me that day had to count for something, and i'll admit, you made me smile the kind of smile that i reserve for when i'm trying to keep my feelings a secret, but fail miserably at doing. unfortunately, after a few rounds of cheap rum, you were drunk, beset by the asian flush and could not walk straight. at that point, i had had more liquor than you and i was lucid enough to notice that you had wrapped your arm around my waist. it was later on that i found out you had a girlfriend, and i think that that knowledge should have been divulged as early as the first conversation.

All I can say is, poor girl.

----------------------

You don't live here. We only converse once a year, at max. We've been Internet friends since 2009 - I say Internet friends because we have never met in real life. At this day and age, these kinds of friendships are becoming more of the norm. You know my sister personally, and was her friend when we lived in the same country. However, I truly do not know why you decided to add me on FB in the first place. Maybe it's because you thought I was pretty, despite the obvious age gap between the two of us. You were only a toddler when Kurt Cobain passed away. I was older by a significant amount, just beginning to fall in love with The Beatles (a sign that my lifelong ambition to be cool and different started very early in life). You haven't been back to the country in six years. Let me tell you, much has happened in that span of time.

You leave little novellas on posts I make that seem to touch your soul. Other than that, you are a man who reserves his words. From what I gather, you are an artist yourself - you have a way with words and great taste, certainly. I also gather that you were born into money. Had you stayed in this country, you would be no different from other little lordlings your age - spending all their money on substances, material possessions and other useless things. Your taste in women would probably have been different, as well. Independent living abroad might have been the best thing to have ever happened to you, at the expense of being in limbo about your home, your roots, and your identity, you crazy, mixed-up, third culture kid, you.

You told me once during one of our conversations that you thought I was incredibly attractive. I was taken aback because you barely know me, aside from what I show of myself on the Internet, but flattered and grateful. Grateful because, despite the fact that I find it difficult to date men that don't ask me to change who I am, there is someone that accepts me fully. This willingness, this earnestness you laid before me was what woke me up to you, and now, I can barely think of anyone else.

Maybe my disbelief stems from low self-esteem. But mostly from the fact that you are spewing overtures from continents and time zones away. Is it the gift (or curse) of distance that awards you with such bravery? The unlikelihood of an awkward encounter between us at a bar on a Saturday night? Is it the thrill? The anticipation of unwrapping me like a gift, someday? The lack of intersecting social groups? You made empty plans to come home in December, as that will be the time you are going to be in Asia. You spend your holidays in Hong Kong. I say 'empty plans' because there are no dates set in stone. Truth is, I want you to be in the same city as me. We already know what will happen upon meeting, and I truly believe that the men who have the most pull on me have touched my soul in some way, and you certainly have touched mine. 

I want so badly to believe that your intentions for me are pure, because out of all the men I have come to know, you come the closest to the possibility of love. However, we do not live in the same country. That is reason enough for me not to believe you.

fuck this

i really, really REALLY want a job
and i've been trying really hard

i want security already.

new year, new set of hurdles to overcome

a guy friend and i are talking, and he showed me his wordpress from two years ago - naulul ako ng slight na dalawang taon na pala ang nakalipas mula 2013.

all i can say is that i'm really glad not to be the same person i was in 2013, that's for fucking sure. sure, i was experiencing a whole different set of problems back then that seemed insurmountable at the time, but don't all problems seem that way when we go through them?

i realize that the last time i updated this blog was during the two worst months of 2014. looking back, i can scarcely believe i made it through september and october (and november, come to think of it) alive. relief only came in december, where some really rad things happened and restored my sanity and carried over into the new year. it's only now that i feel like things are crashing down.

and it's that crashing feeling that brings me back to what i said about problems feeling insurmountable just as we go through tthem. you just really have to wade through the muck of them, get through them as gracefully as you possibly can.

also, i am leaving for malaysian borneo in 8 days (unless cebu pacific decides to pull a fast one and cancel our flight on the eve of the impending papal visit, where a no-fly mandate will be in place on the day after and the day before we fly back in). thing is, i no longer feel the same way about the man that i'm exploring this new country with. i stopped feeling a certain way for him and only really talk to him now out of necessity, because it's going to be lame if i go traveling with someone i dislike.

i discovered allen stone this morning, and this song has been on rotation the entire day. i think the song is trying to tell me something.

guess i'd better get some sleep, i've kind of been running myself ragged the entire day worrying about things that are beyond my control.

I took a plane over the stars,
It didn't get me very far,
'Cause all my problems, they follow me,
I flew to the moon, but it wasn't far enough away from you,
'Cause all our problems, they follow me, yeah, hey, yeah,

And every night, I close my eyes,
And all my troubles fade,
and every morning when I rise,
I'm just sleeping in this bed I made.

Lots of life changes, and I miss my dog.

Our dog got run over by a drunk driver, and I'm taking it pretty hard. Actually, the entire part of last week was a shitstorm of epic proportions - going down in history as a period I will refer to as Alat Days, 2014. Losing Burrito was the icing on an already shitty cake.

I miss him a lot. I loved that boy a lot. We only had him for 8 months, but he was very much loved.

I've been so sad lately. I know I need to snap out of it soon, because responsibility is looming. I'm not looking forward to the inevitable. My soul feels trapped, I need to figure out why.

Maybe it's because I saw The Beach for the first time, and my soul is looking for paradise. Work is not paradise right now. Work triggers internal stressors and burns me out. Thing is, I'm not sure a man in my life is what I want/what will solve these ill feelings at this point. I think I'm running away from being an adult, and I know that this is a phase. (I do need to listen to the Pikachu, as a red-haired, sleepy-eyed bartendress who paints her entire eyelid told me knowingly at Boho last night.)

I am panicking. I put all the men I thought I liked on invisible on Facebook, because out of sight equals out of mind. They don't live in Manila, anyway. My friend gave me a hashtag, because fading out on people is what I do best, anyway. 

#DisappearlikeTimmy. It really is a thing.


Please forgive the strange train of thought. I just need to get all of this out of my system because I've been holding stress in so long it's begun to consume me.

I just hope that after this week, great things are on their way to me.

The Universe wants me to know that everything will be fine

 

2014 has been really good to me, because this is the year that I shed a lot of baggage that was holding me back.

For the longest time, I had convinced myself that I was okay with leading a mediocre life in Manila. That this was as good as it was ever gonna get for me. But deep inside, I secretly envied my peers who would travel to far off places because they could afford it. I was broke for a really long time in my twenties, and seeing peoples' travel photos in places I could only dream about made me bitter and angry that I was stuck in the city.

It took me 28 years to figure out that traveling was what made me feel most alive and that I need to do it more. 

This year I took a trip to Cambodia, which was the first time I'd gone out of the country on a trip I financed purely on my own. It was absolutely liberating. While there were things I could have done differently if I traveled by myself (I'm not 100% sure I'm ready to do it yet, but I feel this could change very soon), but I wouldn't have traded that experience for anything else.

When I got back to Manila, all I could feel was disgust. Not even the people (except family) would make me want to stay here for the long term. All I can think about is leaving. I never leave my house (except for work and maybe the odd lunch/dinner here and there), because I have given up on my old life and all the shallow and heavy baggage that I used to carry. Being the biggest escapist I know, daydreaming about overland border crossing in Southeast Asia and running through temples and musty marketplaces gets me through the day. Sometimes, I dream about flying.

My soul is itching for change. Lots of interesting universally-aligned events happened since I got back in early August, to be quite honest; former enemies have been apologizing, old friends have been reaching out, old friends have been drifting away. And yet despite all this change, I have a strange feeling that everything, EVERYTHING, is falling into place. It's almost prescient how I know, deep in my bones, that everything is going to be okay. It sounds really stupid, but I am just so fucking calm because I know the Universe is going to take care of me, the way it always has, even when I was feeling at my worst and I couldn't trust its process.

I have a feeling the Universe is going to unravel some really good things for me pretty soon.

Hangups, etc.

I thought I really liked someone recently. Thinking about him made me happy - he seems like he's a really sweet guy, loves family, dogs, is good to people, the works. He basically follows 90% of what I've listed down in my list of the kind of boyfriend I want to manifest (yes, I believe in this stuff! What the mind thinks, the mind attracts, and that stuff is pretty powerful).

HOWEVER, if there's anything that I've learned in the last few men I've dated, it's that an ex-girlfriend lurking on social media or in real life is a big fat fucking no-no. If there are exes that are still lingering around, that's a huge red flag. I happen to be a really good internet sleuth, and to be quite honest, it wasn't very hard to do my research about this dude. Everything he posts is public, and he uses his real name on his social media accounts. He's so naive, it's almost adorable.

I just happened to see that his ex is still a very present entity on his social media, so that is enough to kill whatever feelings I was nurturing for him. For all I know, I could be making a huge deal out of something that actually means nothing. But I don't want to sleep on my hunches anymore. Remember what happened when I started to settle for Ben? For Gabe? For Gino?

I sure as hell do, and I don't want to, anymore. There were all these fucking women around them and I chose to barrel on, thinking I was the only special one. NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE not gonna happen.

I've got my own set of hangups about men, to be sure. But I think I'm doing the mature thing in trying to avoid getting involved with men who have their own hangups, also.

Reset

Hi, I've started over.