realization, i have just realized, is a word i use quite loosely. i may walk up a hall, catch a glimpse of my reflection on the shiny steel surface of the elevator doors and go on to claim that i realize something about myself. like something as silly as how how my eyes are not symmetrical. i have over the years, in similar fashion, realized that i don't like sinigang, that i abhor eating at abscbn cafeteria (or at least i did when i was still with the company), that i don't like the bitter taste of beer, that i am obsessed with triffle-hi of gayuma and yadayadayada. i have realized that i don't construct sentences the way i used to (whether i have improved or have turned for the worse is a thing I cannot realize just yet.)
but truly, realization, as i have realized just now, should come with a distinct pain. liken it to being shot with a pellet gun right on your nape, that sting not fading anytime soon after the pellet hits you. and it won't kill you. it just leaves a totally unnecessary feeling of discomfort that causes unrest, grumpiness for the rest of the day. you feel your nape, and never get to neglect the fact that you have a nape. and you miss that feeling of not feeling your nape. of being able to just go on without that full knowledge of having one because it's just there. simply because it was just there.
when you realize something, whether about yourself or about how things go, you part with that part of yourself that's hopeful, the part of your psyche which cannot fully reconcile what you want to do and what you will be able to accomplish. before realizing something, you are magnanimous, invincible and totally able. to part with that ignorance of a certain something is a painful matter that is not always outdone by the new knowledge which takes its place.
and so now i know why i constantly confuse myself. like that lonely horse pulling a calesa up a filthy binondo street, i find it easier to trudge along with blinders on both edges of vantage, steadily ascending without knowing what's on the periphery, being under the impression that that sometime, somewhere will be arrived at, wherever it is, without fully understanding how getting there feels like.
(okay, i should stop being vague. i have a tendency to be vague, and i don't know why.)
but it's kind of too late to gripe over this now for i have just realized that to be something, something real in this world, someone who matters, one has to do things that one does not like to do. it may be as petty as writing an article on something one is actually the least bit interested in. or claiming to be something that one, in the end, does not want to live up to after all.
>asl? >fine:(subtitle: a very labo post)
uneventful is how i would describe a day wherein:
- i do some funky stuff with some guy over the telephone just before i pull that sleeping mask over my eyes, and the new day heralded not by some rooster but by my snoring
- i wake up to such scorching heat, i turn the aircon on and then i sleep again
- i wake up at 3pm, rush a 300-word write-up for the contributor's page and turn the TV on just to see two guys fight over Sexbomb Rochelle in Daisy Siete
- i arrive at enterprise plaza, an hour late for a staff meeting, and still leave the damn building with parking fee jacked up to a hundred
- i insist, and just may have succeeded in doing so, to do the styling in the fashion spread
- i am given a new article to work on: skin care section, which i know nothing about since i only smolder my face with whatever's in my bathroom
- i hear two versions of "last kiss" on the radio as i pass through that supercongested cubao tunnel and all the dirt and smoke and squalor of manila is sticking to my face because the windows are down since my aircon is still broken. it had been for a month now.
- i meet up with a former officemate and rant the whole night. in two locations.
- i rush a report for class the following day
what i really miss is that feeling that nothing matters because they really don't. i also miss the time when my reading list did not matter; that i would not be judged for reading too little or for reading not-too-literary stuff life rushdie or borges. i miss reading those quark henares stories. (wonder if he still writes...and where to find these pieces) i miss being so sensless and being amusing to make up for it. i miss being something.
SUCCULENCE
after neglecting this page for such a long time, the one time i felt like i was finally going to post something again, the taskbar takes its sweet time. nothing really hurts more than a blank screen to go with a giddy mind. the thing that's not really talked about too often is the importance of internet connection. unfortunately this is nothing i can delve into myself as i don't know a fig about it. as you have noticed, this new template activated the comments option in this blog and everyone is invited to leave me a message concerning internet stuff which you think i ought to know about.
but then what i really want to talk about is the most delectable sin ever: vanity. i can't believe i am only talking about it now, particularly after reading what igz had to say about it in his blog (his blog is linked to mine, if you want to read for yourself).
the other night, i hit cafe saguijo with lotte and her childhood friend wesley - cool guy - and two of his friends. when we arrived, they said that they (wes and his pals) were just going to the toilet so lotte and i stayed outside to have some smokes. after like thirty minutes, we noticed that they haven't come back yet. it was still early and there definitely was no line for them to negotiate. our search for the threesome led us to the parking lot and we were merrily bouncing on some tires that were just lying there when one of wes's friends found us.
at cafe saguijo, we never really bothered to go up the stairs and as this guy led us, i had no idea what was waiting for me. as i took steps, i kept on imagining it as like a place where people smoked weed and do funky stuff. imagining and hoping: kinda same thing, don't you think. it turned out to be a room that was converted into a botique that sold cool and mostly vintage stuff. "lola's baul" the guy we were with said. (god how i wish i remember his name, my blogging life would be so much easier. i know: let's call him ernie.) okay, so ernie said that we were in some lola's baul and wesley was trying some tight retro shirt on, wesley with untamed, curly hair and a scrawny frame. and that was in fact the purpose of our summon: we had to see that. i said he should get it, and went on fiddling with the stuff in the room. treasure--lotte found this really cool small red, rectangular pin (reminds me of name plates service specialists wear) with the word succulence written on it in white. (i acknowledge that the last sentence is the worst ever.)
we were on our way to another bar, talking about the act of mixing friends that belonged to different circles and i was still thinking about the pin. i never figured out why i didn't buy it since it could not have caused much. then i thought of why someone who's not vain would buy it. buy it and wear it. i obviously wasn't thinking about myself, as i had actually already tried it on and had every intention of keeping it on, if only i had the mind to whip up the intention to buy it too. (never even bothered to ask for the price. stupid stupid. so if you go to saguijo before i do, be a darling and leave the damn pin where you will find it because i swear i am coming back for it.)
"vanity is the most delicious sin," i suddenly said. i didn't really care if my statement was going fit in what ever it was we were discussing at that time. (ninetees rock music, i think) "it's a win-win situation. at least you get to be beautiful come your judgement day. with vanity, you don't lose. you might go to hell for it but you'd end up being one hot-looking devil." i think they agreed, but i was too busy agreeing with myself to pay enough attention.
a couple of days prior to that, i had a meeting at enterprise. (every monday actually. so friends who work at makati, feel free to book me mondays after work.) i got into trouble the last time i parked in front a friend's establishment and i just couldn't stomach the fact that i was going to pay way too much for parking. so i decideded to park my car, whos name is montgomery btw, at shangrila mall where parking is fabulously at a flat rate. i took the train to makati and since it wasn't rush hour, it was okay. i arranged to meet cathy after work so that we could ride the train together.
okay, rush hour at the metrostar is like being at a uaap basketball match between ateneo and la salle except that from araneta, they ahd moved the venue to the ayala heights clubhouse. i had to agree with cathy when she said that there was not going to be a small chance in hell that we were going to be able to catch a ride in the qc-bound train. so she had the idea of taking that "roundtrip" ride. meaning, we were to take the train that was heading towards taft and there, we would simply wait for the train to start heading to the other end which was i think somewhere in balintawak. "isn't this kinda illegal," i asked. "many people do it," she said, but you don't really have to mull over it to realize that that hadn't really answered the question. with a promise of course that we'd eventually get seats, i let myself take that bogus course of action. the promise would elude fulfillment. for me, at least.
so i ended up standing during the trip, no, voyage to taft and then back to shangri-la station. this, after walking up and down ayala avenue and practically spending my entire lifetime lining up for a friggin trip ticket. i was clearly not in the most accomodating mood. to top it off, i kept hating that person who "stole" my seat, who were practically everyone who were seated. (except for cathy, of course. she is my friend. she did not steal a seat from me, i gave one to her.) i had to smite them. i did not have to be successfull at doing so but i had to. i had to i had to i had to. so i concentrated on how they looked. it was after all their most apparent flaw. i will not elaborate on this. i am laready coming off as superficial as it is. but i swear, "vanity yields results. it's okay, don't be scared to go fix yourselves" i kept on saying to no one in particular and to everyone at the same time(except for cathy, of course). i realize, dear reader that this might turn you off about me, but hey you must forgive me for i was sooooo tired then and do admit that i had a point. i said more cruel stuff which i am not going to write anymore. and i do admit now that exhaustion blinded me so much that i failed to see the beauty in people. (okay that was too much. i am sure not everyone in that goddam car was repulsive, there.) the next time i had bussines at enterprise, i parked under the building and had to literally pay a totally impractical amount all in the name of vanity.
so these are two concrete stories about how i have been thinking about vanity lately. i thought that in the few posts that i put concerning my job, i was perennially vague. perhaps one, day, i will post stories about it. very pregnant topic, i tell you. spicy and juicy and worthy of the show i used to work for. but i digress. anyway, vanity. what i actually forgot about while i was standing inside that train is this: my stand has always been that everyone is actually vain. as in everyone. and it is such a gross misconception that the ones who are aware of their own vanity - those who are admittedly and outwardly vain - are the more sinful ones. everyone is vain, except that not everyone is successful at being so. if that to them is the best version of themselves, then so be it. like not having a fashion statement is in itself a fashion statement. actively not caring is caring. it takes more time to look like you did not assemble your outfut, i'm sure, just as it takes helluva longer time to achieve that natural look in terms of cosmetics.
but then, i am now thinking if vanity really is my favorite sin. cos i think it could either be glutony or deliberate megalomania.
