It’s amazing how everything can change in a year
that’s been riddled with confusion and tears
we got lucky, and I’m happy that now we are here
to hold each other near, despite our fears
I started working from home on this day in 2020. I can’t recall if I was thrilled about it from the get-go, but I do remember feeling a general sense of relief—comfort, almost—about the entire set-up during its first few days.
And then days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. Months turned into a year of varying levels of anxiety brought about by all of this uncertainty. Working from home would’ve been delightful for an introvert… under different circumstances.
Admittedly, a part of me thought this situation would be short-lived and soon forgotten. It’s funny how things have played out. It’s so funny I forgot to laugh. It’s a fucking circus of indolence and incompetence.
Tuesday, 1 AM, and I can’t sleep. I remember that one time at a nearby Starbucks when I held your hand—it’s probably the first time I held a boy’s hand. We’re probably a bit drunk—I can’t say this for sure, but we’re usually buzzed when we stop by coffee shops. I see this image of you in my head talking and then I see myself holding your hand. You squeezed mine in response.
I can’t remember anything else after that.
I was sitting across from him, from this certain person who thought that we’re basically best friends but without the label, when I uttered the words, “Some nights are harder than others.” He just laughed at me then said with full sarcasm, “Did someone die?” I can’t recall if I rolled my eyes. I probably smiled, bitterly.
One of my favorite bands have released their second greatest hits album, which, in my opinion, is inferior to the first one. One of the songs in the new album has told me that sometimes, the only way out is through. You best believe I believe them.
It’s my fault — I let myself feel things. Now, I’m letting myself feel things.
The only way out is through.
i agreed to meet larsson after shift in an army navy somewhere in makati. he was running a bit late i was starting to wonder if i got the wrong place.
“Ilan ba ang Army Navy sa Jupiter [expletive redacted]? Sa Earth kasi marami.”
he probably knew i was willing to wait no matter how long — hell, i did not even put up a fight when he’d suggested this place no matter how much i dislike it. a few drinks and several cigarettes later, he decided to label the situation a level four (i affixed the word emergency). every single time i reach that level, i know i will do anything to be rescued.
while i was by myself, i was struck by the number of people mistakenly pushing the door that says pull. i instantly thought: that says a lot about how some people can be refused entry because they always just assume things without reading, they always just act without understanding. one of my favorite writers would call this heavy-handed but, well, i like metaphors, even if they sound forced. and i don’t like people who push doors that say pull.
it’s my first time setting foot in poblacion, or pobs, as some millennials i know online call it, so larsson gave me a tour first. what an interesting place, i thought, and i’d probably go back under different circumstances, whether or not it’s a level four. we then settled to discuss bad decisions over bad habits in a good place with a bad playlist.
you have to guess
at some point at dawn i remember telling larsson i’ve been filled to the brim with material recently, so i’ll most likely write about this, only to end up forgetting most of what i intended to write about.
three years ago, i gave you the best present i could ever think of.
at that time we’d only known each other for about seven months but we’re so inseparable it wasn’t hard to notice some of the things you like — star wars, harry potter, cup noodles, socks. when i got to work that morning, i gave you cup noodles and asked you to consume it right away. you refused and took it home. you were so surprised when you opened it and found a pair of star wars socks inside, instead of a pack of noodles. i was glad the harry potter reference wasn’t lost on you. you took a photo and posted it on instagram with the jar jar binks x dobby the elf-ish caption, “mg presented meesa a sock, meesa is a free elf!” i remember smiling from ear to ear when i saw that.
two years ago, you gave me the best present you could ever think of.
at that time we’re just recovering from a misunderstanding. we did not talk to each other for three months or so, which was one of the most difficult periods in my life because we’re working on the same floor, in the same company. we were able to start patching things up before my birthday, and we were mostly catching up on game of thrones. i was beginning to feel upset because you didn’t greet me on that day. a couple of days later, you stopped by my desk before clocking out, dropped a coin to the floor, and left without a word. i was so confused so you’re forced to tell me what it was about. “look under your desk.” a small envelop was taped under my desk, and inside it was a replica of tyrion lannister’s hand of the queen pin. (tyrion’s my main man then because… that’s what i do, i drink and i know things.) i remember smiling from ear to ear when i saw that.
that’s how it was with you — when things between us were good, they were really, really good. when things were bad, they were really bad. no grey areas.
to be fair, we parted on good terms when you left the company. however, i didn’t try to reconnect because i needed space to recuperate and sort things within myself in order to move forward. i’ve been thinking of reaching out to you recently, but i guess it’s just the mercury retrograde playing its tricks on me.
if we ever meet again, i’ll probably tell you you were one of my greatest heartaches and, who knows, we’ll probably just laugh about it.
happy birthday, zero.
hey, it’s me. i’m listening to one of jason mraz’s songs from the mr a-z album on loop while trying to write. it feels like 2009 once again, what with the same problems and the same angst (but i have to say it’s much simpler 10 years ago). i’m still struggling to string my thoughts into words, still trying to find comfort in somebody else’s lines. i used to blast wordplay on repeat back in college. now it’s please don’t tell her. please don’t ask why.
i’m not sure if you still want to hear from me after everything that’s happened but i’m going to try anyway. you know me and my penchant for running away, after all.
life has been great, but this year isn’t turning out the way i want it to. this time last year, i thought 2019 would be the year i’d finally do the things i want to do. it started off right — i participated in a calligraphy class in january (i’ve been dabbling in it on and off since 2015) — then a lot of other things got in the way. i’ve been feeling the need to write again, but from my experience it’s established that it’s one of the hardest to get back to, so i’m not really forcing it. the words will come when they come. and the words that have already come printed in the pile of books sitting in my room are not in luck, either — i haven’t been reading for quite a while and god knows how many lifetimes i need to finish reading all of them. plans are set to learn a language and, fingers crossed, a musical instrument next year.
life has been great, in general, except for some minor inconvenience that transpired a little over a week ago. i want to find comfort in knowing that i did the right thing, but i’m hurting. it must be partly because i still haven’t learned how to forgive myself for the things i did and the things i could not do. you know how much i loathe lying, but for the past couple of months there were little lies i told myself in order to sleep at night. early this year i learned to accept the truth that some people were not meant to stay in my life no matter how much history i share with them. i’ve cut them off. i believe i need to learn how to be kind to myself as well.
life has been really great, so far. i have a job i don’t hate and it’s a good way to make a living, but sometimes it doesn’t make me feel alive.
life has been great, and for that i’m grateful. but i’m missing you.
It’s a struggle to wake up every single day and try not to cry myself to sleep at night.
1 It was 1 AM and I was on my way home from work. There was a bit of fuss as passengers boarded the jeepney. I wondered what that was about and as I sat in my seat, I locked eyes with a bespectacled stranger sitting across from me. He was wearing the same confusion I had on my face and for some reason I found it funny. The guy was wearing rectangular wire-rimmed glasses, which looked too good on him, and he reminded me of a certain JC I met at work in 2012. You see, I had a little crush on that JC and at some point I believe he found out about it. Obviously, it didn’t go anywhere and it didn’t bother me anyway. I forgot where I was going with this… I guess I was trying to get to the point that some boys, even if they know that a girl likes them and even if they like the attention that girl willingly gives, will not use that knowledge to their advantage. But some boys can do that. Some boys have done that.
2 I was texting a friend and his name appeared on the predictive text options below the message field. I touched and held the part of the screen that had his name. A dialog box popped up and it read “Do not predict ‘Zero’ again.” I tapped OK. “‘Zero’ successfully removed from learned words.” Had it been that easy to remove him from my memory, I wouldn’t have had this misery.
3 They say actions speak louder than words but that isn’t always the case. I was feeling particularly awful one afternoon so I decided to have some tea nearby after work. He showed up in the tea shop a bit later, saying that he came because he did not want me to feel alone. He said he did not want me to feel alone because he knew how it felt. Also, while actions cannot be trusted, the same can be said about words.
4 “Zero mentioned you in a comment.” I clicked on the notification and saw that he tagged my name under the picture that said “Mention a person who made your 2016 better” or something like that. I laughed at that time because it was posted on a Facebook page called Sarcasm. Thinking about it now, I suppose it was true. I guess I did make his 2016 better. I’m glad to be of use.
5 The first trailer for the latest Star Wars film has just been released and it makes me believe that there are things to look forward to. Better things. I only have to forget the fact that I saw Rogue One with him and he is one of the reasons I started watching Star Wars again.
6 I decided to return his glass jar while he was not at work. I put it on his desk and made sure all of the paper cranes he made, which used to occupy a space in my desk, were inside. I could not recall how I ended up with all of them but I could remember a time I asked him how the cranes got to my desk from his. He said he had no idea. Maybe they finally learned how to fly. Whatever the case, I liked seeing them and kept them before as a sign of friendship. One night I told him he should teach me how to make one of those before he leaves the company but, now, I guess I just have to look it up on WikiHow.
The highly anticipated fifth month review took place yesterday with G, the team leader, and Johnny, the deputy team leader (should’ve been Depp but, yeah, it’s lame either way so… there).
The review went well, I think, and they didn’t really talk about anything I had no knowledge of beforehand in relation to my performance at work. During the assessment, G kept on saying that quality is my strongest suit and I found it a bit funny because that’s the same observation my immediate superior had of me when I was an agent. My timeliness is a mess so I shouldn’t be discussing it but I can’t help but think it’s almost similar to the average handle time KPI I used to struggle with when I was still answering calls from seniors who didn’t know where the menu button was, TV junkies who didn’t understand why their satellite connection would lose reception whenever it rained, and millennials who didn’t care how much a truck roll would cost them as they could not be bothered to spare a few minutes on the phone and follow instructions from a third-worlder so they’d go—just send me a bloody technician. I don’t know why I didn’t develop that sense of focus and urgency in the three or so years I spent in the industry.
All things considered, I can say that I am in a much better state now than last year… and the year before that, and the year before the past year. Not only because I’m no longer obliged to deal with debilitating stress on a daily basis and I am, in a way, writing for a living, but also because I am starting to feel like I know my place in the world again. I don’t exactly love the job, partly because of its repetitive nature, but I don’t hate it either, not yet, at least (and now Larsson’s statement back in March echoes in my head: You’ll hate that job soon enough). There are times I’d rather sleep in than get up from bed, but when I do report for work, I feel like I am on the right track. I feel that even if I’m not sure of where I’m headed, I am sure that I am on my way.
During my early days in the university I remember trying so hard to write anything—anything that my broken English could muster. There were a lot of drafts and fragments from stories I never had the chance to finish; verses and rhymes from poems I never had the guts to publish. My head was brimming with ideas I didn’t quite know how to put into words, in writing or otherwise. I kept a blog that was composed mostly of small talk and phony paragraphs that would probably make me cringe for the rest of my uneventful life.
Then, by some excellent plot twist, it became easier (no, not the writing because it’s never going to be easy, trust me) to jot down thoughts as years went by. The goal was to write relentlessly (uh and brilliantly* if I’d be so #blessed), to make writing feel as natural as breathing to me. I knew it’s a long shot. I didn’t really meet the target but I believe I reached the part where writing no longer felt like a chore.
There were bad days, of course, when life went off course and I was stuck thinking I wouldn’t be able to write anything in the way I’d had before. The block wasn’t up for very long as I figured out a solution soon enough: the trick was to read/backread entries of bloggers I look up to, draw inspiration from my favorite writers and remind myself of the reason I got into the craft in the first place.
Things went from bad to worse when the trick lost its magic. These days when I feel the slightest urge to write—yes, I do write when I can—my thoughts usually get condensed into 140 characters or less. Anything longer than that would require a year-long summoning of the proverbial muse yada yada bullshit which is, as we all know, just a myth. These days when the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, I just shrug it off and get my phone because, man, I intend to watch all nine seasons (200 episodes!) of The X-Files this month to make the most out of my iflix subscription.
This day is an exception, though. It’s the start of an attempt to preempt the superlative. But we’ll never know, I guess, as the cliché goes
prepare for the worst, hope for the best and… God will do the rest?
*I once heard of a Kule writer who “writes brilliantly when he’s drunk” and whoa, hot damn, I want to have what he’s having.
I’m not liking this person I’m becoming. While I’ve grown to accept some things I cannot change and learned not to expect anything from anybody, I’ve become more intolerant of injustices and vindictive to those who have done irreparable damage to me in the past. I still believe I’m hardwired to do the right and the good, though.
The rain has brought an unexpected calm in me that is just as frightening as the storm signal warning in the city. I’m almost always anxious, no, restless, and this calmness seems so foreign yet so comfortable. It almost feels like surrender. Surrender is bad because that means I’m about to settle for something less than I have bargained for.
I go to work an hour and a half early in the midst of a torrential downpour and the only thing that bothers me is the fact that my feet may still get wet even though I’m wearing high-cut boots. I’m usually more uneasy when it rains–this dates back to my infant years. I go to work and relapse into my unhealthy habit of consuming a 60-gram pack of chips in one-sitting on my 15-minute break. I’ve gone months without eating chips and knowing that this craving is creeping back into my system tells me that there is a problem. I go home and the darkness of the evening keeps the calm intact. I go to sleep expecting nothing but the numbing calmness that tomorrow would bring. Not sure if not dreading it sounds like a good thing.
It’s a vicious cycle… but there are things to look forward to. I’ve just celebrated 23 years of living in this spinning rock and I’m holding on to the belief that better days are coming.
What kept me going then was a simple statement, a self-pep talk—The trick is to find something to look forward to every single day. I try to use the same mantra nowadays and it keeps me up, makes me think: What if I run out of things to look forward to? What if there isn’t any to begin with? Does it necessarily mean that my days have to end, too (in this place, at least)?
Perhaps I have always been looking for that certain something in all the wrong places.
Some things take a lot of getting used to.
There are some that I can manage—restoring my body clock, learning new stuff and unlearning the old. There are also some that I have no control over—shifting schedules, split RDs, stifling environment. Sure, the workload is light and I’m dealing with purely technical aspects of the pay TV service, considerably easy compared to Dish, but there’s something about the workplace that doesn’t sit well with me. The feeling of emptiness, that I am more than used to, seems to have doubled in the past two months and I’m certain it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that I spend most of my time alone. Hey, I’ve spent most of my life alone and I enjoy my lunch in solitude, thank you very much. I seek the company of my wavemates now and then, though, to be honest.
During brunch with former teammates recently, I found out that most of them got promoted and my former team leader added that if I hadn’t left, I would’ve been in the same standing. I did feel a pang of regret, but not so much especially when I was told that I am allowed to go back. Even before that, I knew that if I could, I would. But now I’m not sure if I should. I’d probably regret my decision either way, all things considered.
I guess people never really settle for anything, in general. When we get what we think we want, we still yearn for that certain something… that’s something else. Something else entirely.
BLUES IN BLACK AND WHITE 