Love 101

I've been listening to a friend's sentiments lately. Well, perhaps not really a friend, but a mentor whom I've come to know more and more in the last couple of months or so. This friend-mentor has been having some sort of personal a.k.a. love problems and I found myself to be at the listening end, not unlike most of the times that he has been "teaching" me the ways and means of our own little "corporate world".

And so of course since these are his sentiments, I am not at liberty to divulge anything. I was, and I am, just listening. Always listening.

During one of our "listening conversations", I came to stumble upon this odd reality that while I was there trying to understand what he was saying, my mind was somewhere else. Somewhere between trying to make sense of his words and perhaps trying to make sense of my own thoughts too.

So lost I was in our jargon of thoughts and words when I heard myself asking, "Why, just how young is she?" And perhaps he said, "About twenty-ish." Not too young. But not old enough either, I said to myself.

What is this thing about age and maturity that seem to nag me from within? If I don't get answers soon, I might just try to turn myself inside-out to see perhaps if I could get the answers then. Yeah, what is this age and maturity? And love?

Ah, love. So you see, it was after all about this eternal topic called love. Yeech. Who would've thougth I'd be writing something like this at a point in my life where I'm still just trying to pick the pieces back up. Yeech. Talk about eternal masochism too.

Does age really matter? No. Maturity? No. Lies! Love moves-in mysterious ways? Cut that crap please..As my conscience would put it, "No Jennifer, mystery is one fool's fragment of stupid imagination".

Had I not stopped myself, I would have told my friend-mentor right away that it was almost too difficult to bridge a gap that will always be there. And I am not talking about age here. None too shallow like that. Age is just the sign. Maturity is the upshot. And if at this fundamental stage, two people don't or can't catch up with each other and would still try to wrap things up, then they've got themselves entwined with life's masochisms.

So. Am I trying to know anything and everything about love here then? Nah..I'm no expert. Who is? But perhaps I just wanted to let my friend know that I listened.

I listened well enough that I began to see my life's sentiments through his words. But perhaps I also listened a little too much that I forgot to speak up and say, "I've been there, has just been there. You may want to save yourself the effort..."

"different faces, different phases" 

good times in the life of jing

• *reading old Archie Comics on lazy, rainy Sunday mornings
• *taking a wrong turn at an unfamiliar street and i find an old shop for things I've always wanted to buy but always didn't have the time to
• *riding a taxicab with a pleasant driver who doesn't speak much and gives back exact change
• *waking up to the smell of my favorite breakfast
• *closing my eyes while taking a warm shower
• *finding old friends in strange, lonely corners of the big city
• *riding up a bus and i find the front seats empty
• *long breakfast talks with my sister
• *getting myself lost in the hardware store where I could have the time in the world tinkering with sparkly, little knobby things
• *smell of an old library on a hot summer day
• *writing about anything and everything on late insomiac's night
• *going home to a house with super clean and sparkling floors
• *sleeping on a well-made bed (knowing I didn't make them when I left them this morning)
• *organizing my weekly DVD's-to-watch schedule
• *going to work knowing that tomorrow is payday
• *writing something for my blog knowing that YOU are going to read it! :)

No Hope

I moved into my new apartment about 2 months ago. It was bigger, more expensive and much more comfortable than the pad I've lived in for about 3 years. I was maybe a little too busy enjoying my new pseudo-home that I really havent gotten around to unpacking those "extra boxes" of burloluys (bits and ends).

A few days ago, I was lazying around in my new room thinking about the future when I remembered that I was on my way to my 6th month in my new job. Here comes regularization. Not to mention big bonuses and increases. Then I began to remember that I haven't filed for a TIN transfer yet. (See, my new company wants to make sure that all its employees file in their branch- so I have to transfer BIR's -since my branch is in Makati and their's is in Ortigas--Weird. Are'nt we allowed to file in any branch?) Wait, I'm digressing.

So there, I was lazying around when I suddenly found it important to look for my BIR papers. It should be inside one of those unpacked boxes under my stairs, I said to myself. I almost wished I was brazen enough to face tax evasion lest I find myself rummaging through those things which I now wish I haven't brought along. See, anything and everything were in there. From old, unread magazines to unworn bracelets gifts that have tarnished through the months. (For the love of god, whe did I even think of bringing these along in the first place?) And so I hauled my lazy ass off and began the dreaded obligation of unpacking those seemingly useless-important stuff.

Of course, whenever I try to poke around old things, I never can resist the temptation of reading and browing through everything. I fiddled with an old alarm clock. Read through some notes in college. I had a blast examining old loveletters. And before I knew it, I was taking a trip through time.

I found an old poem which really meant a lot to me back then. Back then means the days when everything was just in shambles and I couldn't seem to make up my mind with what I want to do with my life. Here, I just wanted to share it:


No Hope

I've tried everything
Been there,
Done that
But not Hope
Never Hope
I started with Winstons
Reds first, then lights
Shifted to Marlboros
Reds, to be exact
It went on and on
'Til I tried menthols
The green ones
Yes, those cool ones
But then there was Phillip Morris
Greener ones, cooler ones
And so I did that too
'Til I found out that
Menthols could impotent you
So I went back to reds
That seductive Marlborto Red
So alluring, so inspiring,
So...red.
But then the Golds came out
Marlboro Gold...so elegant
So timeless
So...gold
It hit home
And I felt it
I liked it
I never really felt Hope
Because Inever really had Hope
No Hope
Never Hope
(May 30, 2002)

Things have changed since then. Things are much, much better now. But I think it still helps to look back every once in a while. The poem above still holds the same emotion as when the night that I wrote it. I don't think its ever gonna go away. The past is like that sometimes. I think it has its own way of keeping up in one way or another. And oh, in my case, it had to be through old boxes under my staircase.


By the way, I was able to retrieve my BIR/TIN papers. The thing is, I still haven't filed for my TIN transfer yet. Haha, I'd better hurry lest it catches up with me too.

I Really Don't Hate You - but go.

Hate is such a strong word-especially if you are saying this to a person you dont really hate. A person you may even love.

I've told that to someone recenty. I said, "I hate you". Not only once but repeatedly so.
Why? Why did I say it?

Because I wanted you to go already. No point staying when separation is inevitable.

Inevitable.

"Dotted Mind" 

"Dotted Life"