The One with the Dreary Tales Part 1

Thanks to those who voted on my side panel about what you want to read about. Because a few people asked for it, fine, fine, I'll give you a peek into my love life (or lack thereof). These will be random musing because, I am technically, not allowed to write about love since I don't feel that for anyone or anything at this point. 

Disclaimer: This is a post about love. Yes, love. How I see it now, how I used to see it and all that ballyhoo. If you're not the type to read about something this cheesy and loving, go ahead and skip through and just read this... Link

When I was a little girl, I was read fairy tales before I went to sleep. It was narrated how Cinderella, in her patience and grace, came to snag Prince Charming. I marveled at how Snow White's sheer beauty was enough to stop a hot guy in his tracks and kiss her, despite the creep factor (remember the Enchanted Forest?!) and 7 stocky dwarfs, because he simply can't resist. I was amazed at how Rapunzel's hope was enough to give her strength to wait for her Batman (and I call him Batman cos he used her hair as his utility belt). Finally, Beauty was so kind and loving to Beast, no matter how monstrous he was, that she was able to change him from jerk to McDreamy in a snap. 

They tend to live happily ever after. 

Those fairy tales made sense. It was a girl, a princess or a commoner, whose heart was golden and had purity, grace and honesty weaved into their characters. She always "meets" a prince, whether by accident, by luck or just plain fate. It was like it was written in their destinies. It was bewildering how they'd find their princes cos they lived in far away lands! Why would anyone want to gallop into the wilderness, only to find love?

Men have supposedly ridden into the sunset while dreaming of their fair maidens. 

So, maybe I'm not beautiful, pure and golden-hearted enough to warrant a man? Sometimes, I really think that way. I mean, it's not as if I have a committed and loving man by my side, eagerly awaiting until I come home to ask me for dinner or lunch. Sometimes, I wonder if it's also the reason why my first serious relationship didn't pan out. Was I not good enough, was I too much to handle, was I unfair or unjust? It's too much of an anxiety for me to even figure it out.

Was I the bad, rotten apple of his life? 

A good friend once told me that whatever it was that happened with me and the ex, it was better left to the past. Primarily because he won't have anything to do with me anyhow. If I died today, he probably won't even flinch because he already made his decision and if he ever says he cares, it's not true. He is only guilty when he reaches out and to "kill the guilt", he needs to know I'm alright and happy. Sometimes, I think what he says is true. He makes sense so much that it makes me wonder why I even try sometimes to make my ex feel comfortable about a friendship. The truth of the matter is, I think I may have feelings for him still. No one gets rid of that easily. If you loved someone for 5 years, believed you'd be married to that person and built rainbows and butterflies around a dream that involved the two of you, there's no way you can just wake up one morning and tell yourself, 'ahhh, it's over'. I admit, it still breaks my heart to know he has someone new, someone better perhaps, someone that he will take a bullet for, over me but I have to be happy for him, cos that person may be the key to his happiness.

All the king's horses and all the king's men can't put the little princess' heart back together again... 

This made me believe that the fairy tale is over. The fairy tale that never began was over before I knew it. No unicorns, no dwarfs, no nymphs, no rainbows, no magic spells, no enchanted forests, no loving kisses and more importantly, no prince charming.

Another friend told me that "My prince charming has already been run over in a highway or freeway somewhere, along with his white horse..." That sucks. 

And when you think friends can console you, that just made it a little worse for me (no offense meant to my friends)... People think that after a break-up, you're supposed to enjoy and live life and party like crazy. I did that. I would be high on times when I was dancing, living it up, eating with friends, drinking like crazy and then when you come home, you crash. You remember. You get reminded of the tears and the apologies and you bawl in one corner of your room, hoping no one in your family can hear you and think to yourself, oh God, what kind of concealer and eye drop would I be using this time? What was so hard for me to do was to show them any sort of emotion. It was sad because I kept myself from crying in front of them. It wasn't their fault, nor was it something they imposed on me, but I felt like I couldn't put them through so much. They have been with me with every fight, every argument I've ever had with my ex. I felt like bringing them there, to a point of sheer destruction, being left alone, being left in the altar, being abandoned was just unfair. Friends were there, not knowing I had eye drops and concealer every time I'd leave my room, not knowing I cried every night, for 30 minutes in one corner of my room, praying to God to take me or take my pain away. I hid it from my family as well, because in their opinion, I was lucky. God protected me from a possible hurtful and painful experience.

No more of these... 

Fast forward almost a year since he first broke up with me, there are still feelings and I'm not going to lie about. The pain isn't as strong. God kept His end of the bargain cos He hasn't taken me yet. I won't wake up in the middle of the night crying and I won't come home baffling my cab driver cos I've been crying in the cab... I would be okay. I functioned well and I am still learning everyday. Every day, I take as a challenge. As I come home, I find something to do. I accept jobs for graphic design, I talk with friends, I watch TV, I read a book, I blog, I subscribe to silly feeds over the net, I do something... anything to keep my mind off him and what might have been. Does it help? A little. A little at a time. One bit at a time. I guess that's how you get back on your feet. You don't stand up after a fall, you slowly and gradually get back on your feet, cos the second tumble will hurt more.

Trying to recover from the pain isn't easy. 

Do I still love him? Yes. Do I do something to get him back? No. Do I want him back? I don't know. 

People come and go, that's what fairy tales fail to tell you. They teach you lessons, they show you what's right from wrong, and enables you to form an ideal in your head. It allows you to dream. It gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling inside and tells you to go for things. It never teaches you how to deal with a broken heart or how to cope when no man comes and sweeps you off your feet. It never teaches you what to do with pain or hurt or disappointment.

But it teaches you hope... and someday, my fairy tale will be told. I don't doubt it for one minute.

No photographers were harmed during the making of this post. All pictures are linked and obtained legally from Stock Xchng. 

The One with the Depression

So here I am, at home, very sick and wondering why on earth did I go online. Oh right, I was supposed to work on something too. I figured since I'm breaking the cardinal rule of bed rest (which is being in my chair and not in bed), I might as well tell you a little bit of what I've been feeling.

No pill made me feel better. And vitamin C - I freakin' miss you!

Day 1: Friday 
Temperature: 38.5 - 39 degrees Celsius
Appetite: So-so. I needed to eat. 
Tonsils: Not so inflamed. Kinda scratchy. 
Demeanor: Meh, I needed to sleep. 
I have been sick for almost a week now - wait, it has been a week. I was in bed when I started having chills and severe body pain. If you want to torture me, I can endure almost any kind of pain - I have had migraines since I was a kid, my ovary has 16 or so different cysts that never seem to leave me be, I have had toothaches and root canals and I've had an accident that caused me to have a lopsided nose (think Owen Wilson, only sexier...), but never ever ever give me a sick headache with body pains cos that would cause my head to go spinning around so badly. Also, a bad flu makes my lymph nodes swell so badly that I actually feel them fighting the infection. It wasn't bad that I had a fever, what was bad was what I was feeling - the fever made me feel so weak and almost dying (how dramatic).

Not as pretty when I'm sick, but you get the idea! 

This is how I know that if I ever contract HIV, I will die on the spot, cos my lymph nodes would probably burst out of my neck and will kill me in that very instant.

Day 2-3: Saturday - Sunday 
Temperature: 39-39.5 degrees Celsius
Appetite: No appetite at all...
Tonsils: Inflamed as heck. Can't talk too much. I keep gargling salt water and suckling on lozenges. I was almost 100% positive that it was strep throat.
Demeanor: Irritable as hell! Coughing didn't help. Plus my back felt tense and pained. 
It's a "kill me now" moment. I felt so damned weak. I didn't realize that the AC was on, or that the fan was on, I was cold all the time. I stayed in bed the whole 24 hours of each day and I wouldn't even want to eat. I hated any food. Nothing tasted like anything it should. I had chicken which tasted like cardboard and rice that tasted like gooey cardboard. I had beef that tasted like corrugated paper with a little soy sauce in it. My dad is an excellent cook and he puts of soul and love into each dish but man, that weekend was so bad that if you gave me super fiery Indian food, I'd probably say that their Fontina has gone bad.

Looks appetizing, right?! Didn't do anything for me. 

I hated the fact that I didn't have anyone to come to for some TLC. I have to admit that family is there all the time. My mom would check my temperature and would SMS me even when she's in the market. She got me bananas to munch on. She even got me a bottle of Gatorade cos I wouldn't eat anything. But I was really hoping for someone to kind of cuddle with me. I know it's gross and disgusting to be bundled in a comforter with someone snotty and probably has germs all around her but it would have been amazing to have a hug from someone that cared enough.

Day 4: Monday 
Temperature: Back to kinda normal - 38 degrees Celsius 
Appetite: Not much appetite, tried to eat anyhow. 
Tonsils: Gargling was a good idea. It made me feel a little better. I really thought I could come to work then. 
Demeanor: Hopeful that I was gonna be well enough to get to work. 
What the heck was happening?! I wasn't normal anymore. I felt weak but I felt so hopeful and I was wishing for nothing more than normalcy - the office, the carpeted floors, my huge screen, my modules... Alas, I was wrong. Come night time, my fever spiked up and I suddenly had no energy to go anywhere. I sent an SMS to my boss, Chase and told him I'll go to the doctor.

Got an expensive doctor, BTW. General and Cancer Surgeon - Dr. Raymond Natividad. Apparently, the dude had a "line" even though you've called in and begged for a 10.30 appointment. The dude is a genius! I think my HMO is a little crazy cos they automatically associated me with cancer. (My aunt had non-Hodgekin's Lymphoma, go figure.)

Day 5: Tuesday 
Temperature: 38.5 degrees Celsius 
Appetite: None at all. 
Tonsils: Swollen as heck. Exudative, apparently. 
Demeanor: Pissed off at the laboratory people for making me wait so long for a blood extraction. 
Dr. Natividad saw me for the first time and did all the tests - he tested for pneumonia and bronchitis and decided right then and there that I didn't have cancer. He even ordered a blood count and a urinalysis, was worried about a rash that I had in my tummy area (cos that's a side effect) and my eyes. I love this doctor, no matter how exorbitant the fees are. He made me purchase the most expensive antibiotics (and to think I'm a pharmacist!) and made me promise that I'll stay in bed for the rest of week.

I went to work that night to file for my leave and to finish some crazy last minute meetings with my SMEs before deploying a project. I know, I know, I was crazy to come to work. After that long day, I slept like a baby! I was told to expect worse high-grade fevers cos he diagnosed me with Acute Exudative Tonsillopharyngitis. I was supposedly non-contagious until I start making out with someone (again, a single girl joke - why won't people let up?!).

Men think that unless I look like this, I won't do. 

I came to work and I'm glad I saw my friends there. Ivan, Candy, Jessie - I love just being surrounded by people that I've come to respect and love, thanks to work. And also, you know, no matter how feverish I was, I didn't feel the need to complain about it, cos it's natural. I attended all my meetings and thankfully, Sonja approved my leave. I've been on bed rest since Wednesday evening til now.

Now
Temperature: 38 degrees Celsius 
Appetite: A little, I had chicken. Woohoo!
Tonsils: Better now, I feel a little more comfy swallowing and relaxing my neck. 
Demeanor: Chill. :) 
I'm sick still. On my last day of bed rest, I hope the worst is over cos I feel a little bit better. My back is still tense but I'm sweating so that's a good sign, right? I'm hoping that when I get sick again this year, it won't be this bad.

I'm not going to lie. All throughout those days when I needed bed rest, all I could think about was why was it happening to me. I'm a good person, I am a real team player, I actually work my ass off and I'm trying hard to make a difference in my world. Last year, when my life was suddenly and abruptly turned upside down by a personal tragedy, I figured God must not send out lightning to strike twice. Like I always tell people, it's bad enough when the rest of the world sees you and disappoints you. It's harder when you're the one that disappoints yourself. I guess it depresses me that while the world world may have turned its back on me, my body - my own body would actually betray me as badly.

I'm going to be the best version of me. No more slacking off. I'm not even doing this to be sexy. I'm doing this for me!

This has taught me so much about what I need to do from now on. I'm not young anymore. Back then, I won't exercise and I would feel fine. Now, I crave for vegetables (I guess it's my body's way of saying I need more nutrients than the fried tennis shoe I eat for dinner everyday!) and I crave for fruits and I actually bought an elliptical trainer (Thanks to my brother from another mother, Ivan). The firm and real realization? I need to take care of me, cos no one else will. The dreams of actually having someone cuddle with you while you're sick - not gonna happen. It's more of me now and part of enjoying me, is actually making me healthy and good.

No photographers were harmed intellectually during the making of this post. All photos were obtained legally from Stock Xchng. 
By the way, Candy's disappointed. Read a little bit about the 5 Levels of Disappointment on the Define blog. 

The One with the TV Addiction

As much as I would like to say that I live a full life, I really don't. In fact, if you can't fin me sampling something delicious off the streets of Makati, Ortigas or the greater QC area, I'm probably at home, escaping into my own little world of comedy, drama and yes, sometimes, action. 

Why yes, this is what I'm talking about. TV! 

I've always been a fan of television. Whether it's trash TV (think Jerry Springer), to animation (Family Guy, The Simpsons) to action (NCIS, Criminal Minds, White Collar) to offbeat comedy (How I Met Your Mother, King of Queens, Gary Unmarried), to reality TV shows (ANTM, American Idol) to biopics (History Channel, River Monsters from Nat Geo, BIO)... I am simply a TV addict. I am actually one of the few people that subscribed to Sky complete with a digibox (think digital receiver) and I was darned proud of it. Think of how amazing the pictures are courtesy of the digibox and as an additional bonus, I get to find out whether I need to stay up for another movie on HBO or maybe because I'm waiting for more shows to come to the boob tube. 

My favorite is this one show: 

It's called Chuck and I keep realizing how much I love it, watching every season of it. Guess why I love it? I love Chuck's all-natural innocence and the way he tries to charm his way out of terrorist situations with his geeky, funny and amazingly cute side-comments. You have to love yourself some Chuck. 

I figured it has something to do with the fact that Chuck is hard to find, or you may have found yourself a Chuck and let him go. Or in my subconscious, I'm prolly Chuck and I'm still waiting for my long-legged blonde bombshell to rescue me (go figure...). In any case, go catch yourself some Chuck, you'd thank me later.