I won’t write about New Year’s Resolutions. Call me lazy, jaded, arrogant. Call me anything you want but for me, somehow, New Year’s Resolutions have predictable life cycles...

• Nearing the end of the year you start thinking about what happened to your year and what you want to change.
• You make a list... mental, written, typed...of the things you want to “happen” or “do” or “change” the following year.
• You start your year all excited, adamant, and optimistic that things you want to happen, do, and/or change will happen.
• This excitement, determination and optimism goes on for a couple of weeks.
• Within 30 days you realize you can’t make a 100% commitment and then you go back to your “old” self, breaking your resolutions, but making justifications.
• Then you feel guilty and start to follow your resolutions the next 60 days.
• But then you forget following it because of the rat race.
• Six months later the “ber” season is about to start again and then you remember that you had some new years resolution.
• Convinced it’s not too late you try to work on it again (if you still remember what you resolved to do).
• But then you forget again a week after.
• And then Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas happen and then you get too caught up by parties and shopping lists that you completely have shelved your New Year’s resolution.
• By the end of Christmas you realize a the New Year is just a week away and then you start feeling guilty again and start a mental list of what you want to change for the next year.
• But then come to think of it your previous New Year’s Resolution is very similar to the mental list you are already making.

Yes, maybe I am cynical. But I prefer to think that my brain is simple and cannot handle any mental lists. So long ago I decided it’s best for me if I realize I want to do or change something in me I do it immediately. Saves me the hassle of remembering.

But then, writing this made me realize I actually have a new year's resolution. That is not to have one.

You know how it is when someone tells you a story and you think you get it but you don’t? 

Or when someone tells you a joke and you laugh but you can’t really relate?

Hmmm or maybe you can’t really relate to what I’m saying right now... But anyway, I just had that experience when I think I had an idea what she is saying but the truth is I didn’t. 

I can’t really give her a name. Or maybe I should to make my typing easier...okay, so her name will be FRENEMY. She used to be my roomy. USED being the operative word.

The first time I got here Frenemy’s like nice and accommodating the first two weeks and then afterwards she bitched at me and said a lot of nasty and mean things about moi. I think she did not approve of my sleeping habits as she is a light sleeper but she could’ve approached me and talked to me politely and not confront me at 11:30 in the evening.

Her bitching I can handle actually but she started telling the folks here at Big Brother’s House lies about me and even getting angry at Mai for being friends with me. Oy, so highschool. I don’t really like being stabbed (who does?!?) and back stabbing is one of the things that when you do to me I chuck you out of my “friends” list and do not give a damn about you anymore. Like seriously. If you back stab me or you lie or basically just break my trust and you are not blood related then you can die or be dying and I won’t really give a shit about you. 

Now I made a promise to myself that I will not give her a gift come Christmas. And if she gave me one I wouldn’t even touch it. After all she is not the first girlfriend I had which I ditched. An former close friend who stole my boyfriend had to ask for forgiveness for two years so this won’t be so hard anymore. It’s just a matter of getting used to.

Come to think of though, that former close friend is now back as my friend. After two years I forgave her. And I suppose a part of me have changed. Even if it seems much more comfortable being angry or unconcerned about my enemies a part of me is tired of all the angst and loneliness. I have become such a weakling. Plain. Romantic.

On Christmas eve we had a party at home and of course we had secret Santa for kicks. We started giving out presents to each other too. I must admit, I was ambivalent if I should give her a gift. I had a box that did not had anyone’s name. And if I didn’t give her any, well... I’m sure she wasn’t expecting any gift or any thing from me. But when I looked from the corner of my eye at her she had this face about her looked like a little girl in front of a candy store waiting for someone to hand her a gummy bear or a tootsie roll.  She was watching while Jacq gave out her presents and she looked like she was expecting one too! I wanted to laugh wickedly but instead of laughing my mind jolted me with a decision that I will give her the one box I wrapped but didn’t put a tag on.

Sparing even myself the boring details of what happened (of course she was shocked and happy), the interesting part happened the day after while I was perched on my bed working. But the truth is I don’t really know what how to write what happened. She came into the room, sat on my bed, and started telling me that everything is okay between her and me. There was a part in her speech that made her tear up and sniffle and I had to go grab some tissue. And as the minutes drag on and she kept on saying stuff to me which my simple mind cannot grasp a part of me was telling myself that maybe this is her way to resolve our conflict without having to say “I’m sorry”. 

But I’m sort of confused if what she said was an apology or she forgave me which would be weird if it were the a latter because she started it and I that I really want to hear is she’s sorry not some sad tale about the telenovela of a life she had and I better stop thinking about it or I’d be whiney again. Just eat my cake without any prissiness. I guess.

I suppose even if love does not beget love all the time, the times that it does it’s worth it. So maybe in a few weeks from now she’ll bitch at me again but for now I’m pretty pleased the pink hoodie was an appropriate white flag...

Three hundred sixty-five days ago I was frolicking in Boracay gunning Bacardi 151 and margaritas. 

Instead of white sand and shot glasses I am surrounded by snow and 6% liquor. 

Nothing is the same and yet everything is the same. 

I am still pensive and often trapped in my thoughts only I am in a different place and time.

I am still loving the same person only I am more careful and not hopeful anymore.

I am still prudent around the people around me but want to start new relationships also.

I am still wary of children however they are drawn to me and want to touch my face.

I am still insecure of my flaws yet I am growing confident as I age.

I don’t really know how things will be from now. I have given up fighting things and have decided I will choose to enjoy life to the fullest in a way that it won’t harm me or hurt others. Maybe I will get what my heart longs for. Maybe I'd have better luck in love and work. But I know it's not just up to fate. I have to be wiser to listen to my heart. I have to be trusting to listen to my God.

If I hear her say “I deserve to have the weekends off because I’ve worked for them for four years” one more time I will bash her head with a coffee pot!

Okay, maybe bashing is too much. Bashing is violent and will get my nice butt on a plane with the words “DEPORTED” on my passport. But everytime I hear her say “I deserve it” I see red and I just want to slap her for saying those words (O-kaaay! Slapping is violent too!!!)

I hate. Hate. HATE. HATE those words. 

I remember having dinner with him (like one of the last few we had before I left) and the girl taking our order didn’t acknowledge him when he asked for a glass of ice (and I think she was snippy at him also). He doesn’t like to be treated that way because he thinks it’s poor customer service (I concur!) so he talked to her condescendingly and he even raised his voice like two decibels higher. When she came back with our orders, including the glass with ice, he didn't say thank you so I asked him why. He looked at me with one eyebrow raised and said in a straightforward, self-righteous manner, “She didn’t deserve it.” I think the people at the other table heard my gasp because at the corner of my eye I can see them looking at me and then him and then me like they were expecting a plate would be flying to his direction.

“She didn’t deserve it!” “I deserve it!” Hello!?! 

Who are we to say who deserves what and that we deserve something?!? Seriously! Can you tell me if any of us deserve anything? Every day, the number of humans increase by approximately 200,000. Out of these 200,000...

- not all live

- some have genetic defects

- most are born poor and middle class

- some are abandoned 

- some grow up abused and neglected

If from the very beginning these innocent babies do not get the best in anything and everything then who are we to claim that we deserve anything?!? We do not even deserve to be born or be humans but we are and we get what is given to us. No matter how much we give we will get only what is given to us. Whether it’s love, wealth, power, position, or anything our heart desire.

There are millions of people who eat only once a day, do not have a roof over their head, cannot get a proper education, cannot even have a clean drinking water, and experience heart-wrenching hardships in their lives. You who have a job --- a job you don’t really need, a job that does not require you to sell your body, a job that does not require you to cheat others --- isn’t that enough for you to be thankful and grateful? 

So spare me if I cannot swallow your bullshit that you deserve it. Don’t expect me to be sympathetic that you deserve the best work schedule in the world because I left my country, suffer your cold weathers, walk to work, consorted to eat pork because your city do not have any decent seafood, live and adjust to the moods of four people not even blood related to me. And you do not hear me grousing about this to you, do you?! So shut your trap please and get back to work. 

I read this comment written on my previous post over and over my eyes blurred. What can I say? Sure... perhaps. A part of me will grow back after going through the motions of being loved off, ignored, loved off some more, used, loved off a bit less, torn apart, loved one-sidedly, dumped, loved partially, mauled. Yeah sure, perhaps time do heal wounds and I will be able to restore whatever was lost or cut off or broken up. 

But as usual, my split personalities started another round at this topic.

“Hope. It is the quintessential human delusion, simultaneously the source of your greatest strength and your greatest weakness.” This echoed in my head in the voice of the Architect. So I paused to mull over it. Is there really any point in hoping that these would transpire? That some day I will stop hurting or being hurt? Or that I will find the One... that one true person who would love me unconditionally and not necessarily just the Man who was nailed on the cross for my sins? What is the whole point at it anyway? 

I decided that I won’t dwell much into those thoughts. I’ve been there before. I know how lethal thoughts like those can be to me. I still have scars that remind me and looking at the white lines on my arms made me remember what happens when I stop hoping. So perhaps Hope can be a human delusion. It turns to an illusion if one does not know where the hope is anchored on. 

But as I kept on thinking about it, I realized that it’s not the question of whether I will be loved or why am I not being loved that I should answer. The more important question is, why do I want to be loved? I know I give everything in each of my romantic relationships that in the course of the relationship I am left with nothing. I find this bothersome and quite suspicious. No one is good enough or self-sacrificing enough that he or she would give so much. Sweet sure...but quite strange for me. 

Perhaps I give so much because I want to receive so much too. Perhaps I give so much because I don’t want to lose that person or that feeling of belonging to someone. Perhaps I give so much because deep inside I am wishing that that person will be the one who will fill the emptiness inside. These are sad, pathetic, and seriously bothersome reasons. How can I expect to have a flourishing relationship when I am not even sensible enough to understand where my emotions are coming from?!? Shit. Shit. Shit.

I am confronted again with Pandora’s Box. Here we go again. I can’t run far without being stumbled by it. I must settle it eventually. But I then doing that means dredging so much painful memories. But if I don't do it then I will end up in a cycle of pain and hurt. So do I run away and try my luck hoping my next relationship won’t be like the rest I had? Or just go back to the past and deal with it now? 

...

My logical side is telling me that it is easier if I stick knife to my heart. No darkening of sight by the edges, no coldness, no palpitations. But I can’t do it. It’s to messy and traumatic for my housemates. Besides, I can’t escape. I won’t escape. If I am going to die today, I might as well dying for a reason and it damn better be the right reasons!

~o~

I’ve been thinking, since the the other night. Since the night T said those words. I’ve been thinking in between waking up and forcing myself to sleep. I’ve been thinking while I let my tears stream unabashedly down my face mixing with the hot droplets of water falling from the shower. I’ve been thinking every person who hurted me so badly I wanted to watch them die. There was the guy who raped me when I was seventeen. The moron ex-boyfriend who cheated on me with my close friend (those bastards!). The cousin who would masturbate just eight feet away from me hidden only by a thin door curtain. The uncle of my mom who fondled me. The old bosses who back-stabbed me. My anger was making me scrub my arm harder than usual as I took a shower. Perverts! Assholes! Fuckers! Each face was registering on my face and it took sometime for me to realize my left arm was as angry with me as mean red streak revealed itself. As I inspect my arm two faces registered immediately in my face. And they popped in my mind the same time. The bottom two in my hate list.

How astonishing. Him & T, whom I both considered my best friends, are in the same list as sex offenders, cheaters, emotional blackmailers, power-hungry ,and depraved men. I continued the task of scrubbing and this time I moved to my elbow while my mind continued to look at their faces with wonder. In my mind their faces seemed like I can touch it which I did. I touched his face first. 

A series of memories started to cascade. The first time I saw him. Me sitting at Julia’s eating while he was playing the guitar. Him giving my the Orange & Lemon CD and me gushing because he looked like one of the band players. Him breaking up with me telling me that he wanted to be free as I stomped angrily away asking my former manager if I can leave early. Him waking me up telling me to eat breakfast he brought. Him holding my hand as we drove to the lighthouse. It was like watching a movie. So much more memories flitted in my mind. Until it ended at the airport... me hugging him and him hugging me as I am pushed forward by people going inside to have their luggage go through the x-ray machine and when it was about my time I looked around and saw his very sad face like someone he loved died. 

And then I touched T’s face.

Another flashback. Me hearing his voice the first time. Me seeing him the first time with a big scowl on his face. Me looking into his eyes and shocked to see it green and wondering if there was gold in it. Being amazed the first time I saw him laugh and mean it. Touring Cebu and taking silly pictures. Drinking with Johann and all the time can’t get my mind of the kiss he gave me. Receiving a cute card with a puppy on my birthday. Sharing popcorn while watching a movie. Me pushing him to do what he initially wanted to do which is to be a gigolo. Video conferences about each other’s day. And then seeing him smile as he said “I wish I was there with you.”

Now I’m confused. How in the world did these two people end up in my hate list?!? All day I can hear the voices in my head sparring. Zoloft, my Zoloft where art thou my Zoloft. My head is so noisy I can’t hear myself talk aloud. The angry, bitter, and spiteful woman in me argued that both of them used me to their own advantage like sexual, ego, comfort which made them deserving to be in the list. But the reasonable (or insane, I think) part of me was saying I am old enough to make a choice, I allowed them to hurt me, ergo, I must be responsible enough to accept my fault and stop thrashing them.

The reasonable voice in my head continued to talk in me, “What they did to me was painful. Sure. Booo hooo hooo. But that is love. That’s relationships. That is life. It is quite inevitable that people will hurt people. But it is up to me to allow when and how I am hurt. And the hurt they have inflicted is not really comparable to those others. Besides... you knew from the very beginning both of them were not meant to be for you.” It makes sense. It does. But my wounded pride would not be defeated so easily. I argued if I am not good enough for them. Are they so perfect that they think that they are the easiest to understand? Is it not unfair that they ask so much when they give so little? But as questions and angry retaliations thundered in my head I tried to evade my own thoughts. I do not want to hear the reply to my questions because I know what it will say... “Make right the wrong.” 

The day continued uneventful but when my head hit the pillow and I slowly lull myself to sleep a passage is whispered in my heart. Something very familiar and very true. And as my mind listened to the truth in the passage my pride melted and in turn I was gripped with horror. I have lost my two closest friends. My selfishness will leave me with no one. Where is my head?!? How can I put them in a list reserved for people I wanted to see dead! I regret a few things in life and this is one that will be with the other few I would regret.

I know that when I wake up I am to make right the wrong. No matter the price I pay.

~o~

And so I started a vigil and waited for T. I had to chat him and pray to the God of big and small things he will talk to me. It’s a difficult task as when he got online he refused to talk to me. And when he finally did talk to me what I did not know was that chatting T would be close to slow death. I don’t know why as my fingers type my messages to him and read his reply I was feeling more light headed because my breath is getting shorter and quicker by the second. I rummaged around to look for a bag. A paper bag at that point would’ve been really handy except there are no paper bag in the room. Only boxes and wrapper with a smiling Santa and red ribbons with gold stars on it. Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I am going to lose my closest friend and I won’t be able to greet him Merry Christmas on Christmas Eve! And I can’t breathe anymore as panic grips my heart so I very very much think I will die before I even finish wrapping my Christmas presents!

~o~

‘Tis hard. Making right the wrong is not just saying sorry to T (I don’t think I have to say sorry to him. I don’t think he really cares about me anymore to be hurt by what I wrote... but... erhmm... argh! FINE!). Making right the wrong means waiting for the the one for me and not jumping into relationships that hurt me. Making right the wrong means trusting the Author about my life and not making judgement calls out of whims, desires, fantasies, what ifs. Making right the wrong means me having to do spring cleaning and taking garbage out --- take a hard look in my life and change inside out. How I will manage it, I don’t know yet. But I know this, I don’t have much time because my life is passing every moment and I don’t want to look back five years, three years, or even one year from now and wonder why the three hundred and sixty-five days in my life are meaningless. I do not have the strength and the will anymore to pay the price of being a pig-head.

Some time ago I met T who’s fun, witty, and cocky (whatever!). 

Now T and I are completely different. He’s vegan and I loved eating everything. He's at Austin and I was in the Philippines. He's into gambling and I won't even touch a dice. He wanted to be a gigolo, I was done playing games and wanted a substantial relationship (marriage? maybe... not really sure). I’m sure you get the picture.

But despite the warning bells in my head, we hit it off pretty well. His green eyes and a charming smile got me spellbound.

Of course he ended up hurting me. But then even if had hurt me me before we continued to chat and flirt. He is just to fun to pass up. A month ago he proposed to visit me here. Now my previous experiences have made me afraid of him already. Despite my fears I continued to argue with myself and defend him from the part of me that wants me not to see him. Being a trooper, I said okay and he set a date of February 13. Oh wow, a day before Valentine’s Day.  

Now that I’m all looking forward to seeing him he tells me that he is now looking for a substantial relationship. He does not want to be a player anymore. All the time he was saying these things about having changed my mind went on RedAlert. I knew what he would be saying would not be something I would like to rehash over and over but my mind would anyway after like stupid HBO reruns. Then he hits me hard with lines like “if I find somebody here between now and February I won’t be able to see you in February”. Excuse me?!? 

The only words that formed in my head was “I’m not your toy you just play with when you don’t have new toys or friends to spend time with.” But I could not bring myself to say that. Instead I ended up crying like I use to whenever someone hurts me much (I’m a WUSS!). Good thing iChat had an error that saved me from having to hang up or worse ---- being hanged up on!

So now I have to forget what he said. Which is not really possible because I’m too pissed to forget. But being pissed with him would make it easier to walk away and burn bridges. 

Sigh.

Another guy to put on my hate list.

Big Brother’s Housemates are making so much bruhaha over the coming days. It is getting to be intimidating. Especially on Monday when temperature will drop to minus ten. When I go to bed tonight I will wake up with snow falling from the grey skies and my boots crunching on it while I walk praying I don’t slip. 

As they continue to chatter about it I was brought back the day I was giving Marian a massage. We were talking about how cold this country is. I know where I am at is not as cold as other places (like Yellowknife or Edmonton or Great Lakes) but it is still cold for our Asian bodies. Canada is such as vast country also that we can’t find fresh fish or meat in the grocery. Everything is frozen like my bum. 

Marian said something that made me think, “It’s odd that our country is not prosperous when we have the best climate, fertile land, abundant resources.” I do not want to become like some Filipinos who just because they reached a different country would give my homeland an upturned nose. But I can’t help myself but agree with her. I scratch my head also and wonder. 

But the question to ask is really not “Why?” but “Now that I’ve realized it, what can I do to make things happen?” It would take every ounce of strength to avoid being selfish and insensitive. The three life goals I’ve set are cemented more into my conscience. I cannot allow myself to just shrug my shoulder and not take any responsibility.

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul. 

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.