I touch myself...

Wow, sometimes I surprise myself...a post I made a few years back in my non existent blog.  Warning...not my usual content of sarcasm.  I wonder what ever possessed me to write this?

EXES AND FRIENDSHIP, IS IT POSSIBLE

I hadn’t seen John for almost 3 years. I wonder what he looks like? Well, I’ll find out in a minute. We chose to meet in the small Chinese restaurant near the house. Lunch would have to be quick as I had a dentist appointment afterwards. John and I went out exclusively (and not so exclusively) for a little over 7 years. We were next door neighbors which made it all the more easier to spend time together. I spent my formative years with him during high school, university and when I started work. I remember playing hookey and him picking me up to go to the tracks to race cars. We were practically married and both our parents were just waiting for us to tell them when and where.

I don’t exactly know when things went wrong but I remember our last few years together fighting and screaming. We cried, made up and exhausted the whole process over and over until we couldn’t take it anymore and had to call it quits. I left for the States to work and he got married soon after we broke up. That hurt…a lot. It took us a while to sort things out between us but things eventually settled down. Don’t get me wrong, it took years before we could even go into the same room without screaming at each other. The baggage I got from our relationship messed me up. I tried counseling but quit after the first session when the doctor prescribed Prozac and a load of other pills with names I couldn’t even pronounce. I absolutely refused to believe that it had gotten that bad. It took me years of self analysis to work it out but eventually I did (I think).

I remember reading about it, teenage love, in the Sweet Valley High series. For those of you too young to remember, they were akin to the trials and tribulations as presented in The O.C. Reading about it was one thing, experiencing it was another matter. What they don’t tell you is that there is no pain like a broken heart and the nastiness that comes. Love easily turns to hate and that hate is coupled with venom so intense that it rules every waking moment. In retrospect, if I had known then what I know now would I have chosen the same path? As with anything we do in life, it is the choices that we make that mold us into who we become. I didn’t now it at the time, but working things out was a choice we both made no matter how difficult it got. I didn’t ask myself why I was doing it. I don’t think he ever did either. We never said “Let’s be friends.”

I couldn’t have mistaken him for anyone else. Here was the familiar cheeky grin coming up the stairs. We hugged and he lifted me off my feet. I grinned and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Hey John, this is my husband Fred.” They shook hands; we sat down and spent the whole time catching up. Life is good.

Manila...

I knew it, I felt it, I lived it.  Last year, I was feeling antsy and unfulfilled.  Fast forward to now...my anime/manga obsession ended up with me having to get glasses.  My icky time at work ended with me moving countries (I KNEW IT!) and completely abandoning London for Manila.  I wish I could say I'm smarter, more mature and better than who I was before I left, but I won't! Hahaha!  It's been a crazy year, I'm looking forward to seeing it end.

I've been back here for half a year and so far I've encountered angry lesbians (their vibrator broke), snow white's wicked step mother, el queso grande and @ss lickers everywhere.  Ahhh, it's good to see that nothing's changed here.

I'm home ma!

Restless

It's been a couple of weeks since I've started feeling unsettled.  Things still haven't changed.  I feel I'm completely shutting myself off again.  The last time this happened, at the very height of this restlessness, I stopped talking at home.  I'd spend my days locked up in my room in the dark.  My mom panicked and dragged me to a psychiatrist.  I went once, never went back.  I know I'm not insane, well I am, but not that kind of insane.  The really good thing about now is I'm able to recognize the signs, I'm just not sure if I can fix it quickly, or just let it run it's course.  I know a part of me is unhappy, but I'm still optimistic.  If I can resolve that unhappy feeling, then I can be myself again. 

I've been staying indoors more than normal, locked up in my room.  Mike is worried, and although I have told him otherwise, I'm sure he still thinks he did something wrong.  It helps that there's another person involved, I have to force myself to not be selfish.  Even if I just want to shut everything out, I can't.  That's a good thing.  I have a harder time doing it at work.  I try to switch off when I'm at work but I can't, most of them kind of get it that I don't want to be disturbed though, so that's good.

I usually focus on something when I get this way.  Last time, it was a journal.  I wrote everything in that journal, no matter how trivial, and then I'd read it over and over.  Like I'm reliving the days when I've shut myself out.  Now, I spend most of my time watching movies, anime, reading manga comics.  The last one was too emotionally packed for me, and now I'm worse than ever. 

Really, all I want to do right now is curl up into a ball and go to sleep. 

When I woke up from the last episode, I found I've moved countries, had myself a husband, living an uncomplicated life.  I wonder where I'll find myself this time?

Tossing and Turning

I'm not myself lately.  Of course I'm me, I'm just not all there at the moment.  There's this nagging feeling that I could do so much more than waste away doing the same thing everyday.  This was the same feeling that prompted my move to London.  Everything that's happened while living here has been an eye opener, a truly amazing experience.  I catch myself staring blankly into nothing most of the time, my mind a million miles away from what I'm supposed to be doing.  I am drained, everyday I wake up without any desire to face the day.  I am constantly irritable, snapping at the simplest of questions.  Of course this could just be hormones, I am hoping it goes away soon.  I have a sneaking suspicion that it won't. 

I'm feeling restless again. 

Shoo Fly Shoo Fly Don't Bother Bee

I got a call from my mom today asking me if there was anything wrong.  Still half asleep, I mumbled something about my tooth still hurting.  And then she mentioned Bwisit Bee.  Wow, ma, you're finally connected to the world wide web!  Alas, no.  My semi stalker texted my mom to tell her that my blog title was offensive to my mom.  And that she felt sorry for my mom.  And that she was shocked at my treatment of my mother.  My mother, not understanding what was wrong, called me to check and see if I was ok.

This is not the first encounter that we've had from this person.  We've just ignored her for the most part because we thought she was just loopy.  It turns out this woman has been keeping tabs on what I do.  She's obsessed with what is happening with my mom and me for some unknown reason.  Baket?  Artista ba kame?  I realize that maintaining a blog doesn't really give me the right to harp on about invasion of privacy.  My posts are afterall available on the web.  I write my posts for me, and for the people who know my humor or the lack of it.  So no, Bwisit Bee is not because I have angst towards my mom, on the contrary,  it's a term of endearment.

I've changed the name to spare my mother from another "innocent" text.

Now to the real bwisit, shoo, go away, we don't want you here.

Diiiiiiing

My ears ring when I'm tired or stressed, and today it's really bad.  Compound that with a full blown headache and it feels like there's an army of crickets having a party inside my head.  I wonder what it'd be like to party with crickets (yes we're turning surreal here, my headache is THAT bad).  I'd take Pinocchio with me to the party to impress the other crickets.  Hmm...the more I write about the crickets the more the ringing disappears.  I might have stumbled across an unknown cure for this.  I can see it now, I'll write a book and wow the medical community.  They'll ask themselves why they didn't think of it before, it's so simple!  My book will be titled: Surrealism:  the cure for tinnitus. I'm going to be famous.

Damn, my headache just got worse.

Vuvuwhat?

There's someone on my street who's playing a vuvuzela at random. Spain nor holland has scored (we're at 68:52 and counting). I'm assuming he's A. just trying it out to see if any of the neighbors will knock on his door and punch his lights out as soon as he opens it B. channeling the people in south africa as the vuvuzela playing masses are surprisingly quiet C. checking out how far he can be heard. D. bored out of his wits because nothing is happening between Spain and Holland.

WADAPAK?!?!

Someone just pooped outside our doorstep again. Like I said. Wadapak?!

This is some scary shit

I'm having one of those days when everything is going tits up. Like part of the ceiling coming down. I feel like I should be giving an interview and saying that cliched line "There was an almighty bang and everything fell silent." Except nobody tells the reporter that after everything falls silent you have to make sure that everyone is ok when all you want to do it to sit in a corner quietly weeping while gently rocking back and forth. Or maybe they do tell the reporters and I just haven't been paying attention. The aftermath looks like we got hit by an earthquake, albeit a very precise one that only hit a part of the room. When I close the door and seal it up I can actually pretend that everything's ok. Maybe if I ignore it it'll just magically clean itself up. There are times when I wish I had a betamax rewinder (yes that pretty much gives away my age right there) and zap me back to a few seconds ago. Thank god nobody got hurt. A few scratches and bruises but everyone is generally ok. There's a huge piece of concrete on a chair where someone was sitting a few seconds before and I couldn't look at it too long. Holy fuck we are lucky.

I've been trying to remember all the shit that's happened here over the years, and this is just my third year. Alarms going off in the middle of the night. Me changing out of my pajamas and wearing mismatched shoes to go to the office to meet the police. Them asking me if I just woke up. Well yes goddamit it's 4am in the morning. I'm dedicated but not that dedicated. Us (me and mr. police) realizing that it's a false alarm and him telling me it could be worse, it could've been for real. Yes, thank god for small miracles.

A tramp shitting on the doorstep (yes I kid you not). And us having to clean it up. I won't go into too much detail. I still retch thinking about it.

Me cleaning the toilet of years worth of other people's pee (my second day on the job) because the cleaning lady couldn't be bothered to do it. I fired her. On the spot. On my second day. I'm not proud, I'm just saying, if your vacuum cleaner is on and you're pretending to clean, at least make sure the head of the hoover is on the floor.

Pipes bursting and tripping the circuits. We found out that the alarms were just there to make noise. Awesome. I feel so safe. It's been rectified. Now when our alarms go off, someone does come in 2 minutes, tops. Oh yeah, and we flooded the basement. While our downstairs neighbor was in the basement.

Me turning around and suddenly facing two police officers and almost dropping my coffee mug on the floor. They asked to talk to me in private. No, first they asked if I was the person responsible for the office. Me telling them yes, I am responsible for the office while I mentally listed all the things I thought I could go to jail for (smoking by the bus stop and jaywalking were the only two things I could think of). It wasn't me, there was a fugitive (a very dangerous criminal whom you musn't approach for any reason...AT ALL...was how they described it) and they wanted to know if he happened to pass by the office. What? For coffee? Just for a visit? No. Nada.

A lady who had a medical thing done somewhere on her body (I won't mention where, just be really really imaginative) and even after the doctors told her not to go prancing around the high street she still did. And guess where she ended up losing a pint of blood? Where else.

Like I said, this is some scary shit.