Beautiful, But A Mess Nonetheless

From now on Jason Mraz's A Beautiful Mess will always remind me of last night, and of nights similar to it. Nights out with good friends and strangers; the taste of new beer and the undiscarded memories of an old life. Not that the lyrics fit the situation, it's just that this was on my playlist before I left home and Drew decided to feed my last song syndrome by putting the song on loop in the car all the way from Makati to Kuya Fred's near Katipunan--and he was all for playing it on the ride back too, had I not seriously threatened to throw his phone out the window.

Last night was fun. Some post-Christmas, pre-New Year get together with almost total strangers for me--I'm just the kid that pseudo-big brother dragged along. I say almost because there were some people from the old crowd I met last sem break. Their work-related conversations bored the hell out of me, but the evening wasn't without its comic moments. Funniest was me "getting hit on" (Drew's term) by a straight and apparently very drunk girl. I didn't know if she was trying to humor me, insult me, or if she was just in over her head with alcohol. It was a mixture of being creeped out and amused at the same time. Luckily her friends distracted her with more interesting matters. I do hope we don't run into each other any time soon. Haha.

But I--oh yes I am--in a beautiful mess. Early on a Sunday morning, with the beginnings of a headache, is perhaps not the best time for reflections about one's life. And well, I don't really know what I'm doing with my life right now. Just cutting myself some slack, hanging back, and not trying to solve any problems for once. Not sleeping, but not nearly thinking as much as I used to do. I'm doing fine. I'm great. Or maybe not, but I don't care anyway.


We tore our dresses and stained our shirts, but it's nice today...
yes, the wait will be worth it.

Degrees Of Intersection

I'm sure most of us have at the very least heard some mention of the Six Degrees Of Separation thing. I've taken some interest in this, but I've never been able to understand the mathematics of it, much more find someone who can explain it to me without my brain going into hemorrhage mode (maybe I should ask my Math profs though). Anyway, math or no math, I take comfort in the idea that there is a mere six-degree distance that stands between me and any random person in this world.

It's surely beneficial in the stalkerly stages that we (or is that just me and my friends?) happen to have at some point when we start to have crushes. (Don't worry, I'm not a psycho. I don't hide out and creepily stalk my crushes for the rest of their lives. I introduce myself to them, at some point. I'm still sane, just a bit shy.) It's just good to know that the chances of actually getting to know that person aren't all too small.

Aside from stalkerly ulterior motives, it's also great for idolatry purposes. Chris Martin and I are six degrees closer to a Viva La Vida duet, Obama and I could possibly bond over our common birthday, and Luis Katigbak could share writing tips with me (oh wait, I already found his blog and he replied to my comment. Just a little more then >:D). Anyway, they all don't seem so silly now, with only six people between us, do they? Well, actually...yeah, they still do.

Seriously though, lately I've been reading up on people again, coming across blogs in impersonal Google searches about literary pieces. While looking for online copies of stories or essays, I've come across people's websites, and to my amazement, these people are friends, contacts, or family of my friends, profs, and acquaintances. Talk about shared interests.

Maybe it's just the Internet, or maybe my personal space is just limited. But I'd like to think that the world is quite small, after all. I believe in the invisible threads that link us all. In the six degrees theory, it's our relationships. But more than that, I believe in the threads that are our stories, our passions, and the things that piss us off; our secret deepest darkest thoughts; our silly hopes and crazy dreams—at the very core we are all connected. Like lines in Algebra, we intersect. At some common point, and by six degrees or less.

I don't feel like such a hermit anymore. Sometimes I feel like I'm isolated from the rest of the world around me. But I only have to think of the six degrees and know that it's not such a detached life after all.

Xing

You weigh everything, that's what you do—
the decisions, situations, the painful truths.
You think, and somewhere between the thoughts
a choice was made and we both lost—
or so I think.

This one time I wish you didn't keep your word
that one day you'd take back everything I heard.
But the word's sticking and days are passing,
hours and minutes spent sleepless, tormenting—
yes, more than I would care to admit.

I made my mistakes, exceeded the bounds
we fought against currents, but something gave out.
Maybe the waves were bigger this time,
wiped clarity out from our once certain minds.

Moving on and walking out
halfway to it I turn around
I drop the bags you yourself have packed
but you tell me again, to just head back
out the proverbial door.

Maybe I'll camp on a corner somewhere
wait for hope to be shed bare
until it dies a natural death
or until I force myself to forget,
but I might not.

Among the words on endless parade,
coupled with contradicting charades
looking for answers to questions unuttered,
doors closed but windows are left unshuttered,
but we might leave it at that.

Because decisions determine direction
and I lost you somewhere in your mind's intersections.
You think, and somewhere between the thoughts
a choice was made and we both lost.

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This is me trying to write poetry. :P It sucks, I know.

This blog has become so much of a venue for me wallowing in self-pity and despairing thoughts that I'm thinking of scrapping all past entries and starting over.

Yeah, I'm thinking of starting over. :)

For Pinoy Lit poerty which doesn't suck, and topics possibly less depressing than the ones in this blog, visit http://emanilapoetry.com/
(But you may want to skip my posts there. They suck too. :P)

What's Wrong With Me?

Garrr. I hate this feeling. I hate going mushy emo over my oh so unfortunate love life. But damn, I just don't know what's wrong with me. This is overkill, not because I'm letting someone take advantage of me--I just want to clarify that. I'm not in martyrdom mode. Things are just so complicated. I'm ranting because I can't get what--or who--I want. And I've never wanted anything or anyone this badly.

I'm ranting because it stings to see that one person I love (yeah, okay. I mean it.) and not being able to make her happy, no matter what I do. I'd happily cut off an arm or a leg just to get her back to her old self--well, not literally--but there's really nothing I can do about it. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know why I'm just not good enough. Hanging around and bugging her doesn't seem to even be amusing, at the very least. And there are other, minor complications too--and one of them is really...I don't know. But that's another thing. So now what?

Okay, I just sounded like I might as well be writing to Dr. Love or what the hell. So I'll stop this now.

As usual, the question I began with will be left unanswered and I will continue feeling miserable and stupidly dramatic. But well, another day down. I'll live through it. I'll get by with the holidays, and with the rest of my zero love life days. I have my friends anyway. Then someday, I will be wholly, really frickin' happy again. Someday.