A Blog A Day
It’s a blog where I write about the extraordinary and the ordinary things going on in my life.Archive for October, 2006
Work And Loneliness
I started my training last night. I never thought I’d survive the night but I did. Before I arrived for work, I was feeling sick. My friend promised me that we’d work together. Then she suddenly bailed out on me. I didn’t feel good the whole afternoon because of what she did. I felt betrayed. But it was too late for that. I had no choice but to continue what we both started.
I made new friends yesterday. I befriended a guy named Ken. I was outside the training room looking at the billboards. He approached me and he talked about inflation and exchange rates. I could tell that he was very talkative and also very smart. He told me that his sister is living abroad. He told me that he’d love to join her someday.
I made new friends. Their names are: Jean, Mona and Isla. Before we were recruited, we took the exam together. Their faces were more than familiar. I had already talked to them last week.
I’m used to befriending and meeting new people because of the nature of my former job. I work in a clinic. Everyday, I get to interact with different faces. Friendliness hasn’t been my strong suite but when you’re exposed to different people everyday, you have to show your friendly side. I’m friendly not by nature but by necessity. out of thirty people in the class ( of mostly women ) there is only one cute guy. His name is Richard ( not his real name ).
He kind of reminds me of James Tupper. I know I’ve been watching way too many Men In Trees but it really is true. Although he’s a poor facsimile to James Tupper ( that guy is just so handsome he makes my heart melt ), they have the same features.
They’re both tall. They both have curly hair. They both have the same bone structure. They both have the same eyes. Richard’s appeal comes from his eyes. He has light brown eyes. It’s almost the color of amber. I can just stare into his eyes forever. I try not to look at him. But a couple of times I find myself glancing at me. And I find him glancing back at me.
I know it’s dangerous. I just had my heart broken a couple of weeks ago. I’m still healing. I don’t want to invest my emotions in a guy I barely know.
When we introduced ourselves to the class, I heard him echo my name. He sits in front of me. When we first met each other, I didn’t ask for his name and he didn’t ask for my name. But when we had to announce our name in front of the class, he said my name out loud as if he’s trying to remember it. And he did. During our trip to the washroom he said my name. He asked me, ” *** do you know where the bathroom is?” I replied, ” They say that it’s straight ahead.” And so, we went there together. We don’t have unisex bathrooms. He entered the men’s bathroom and I entered the female’s bathroom.
He has nice eyes. Richard does have nice eyes. I’m very much drawn to this guy. I’m just cautious. I’ve had my heart broken two times this year. And the offenders are at large. They don’t even have a clue how much I’ve suffered. I don’t think I can go through another heartbreak. It’s just going to be too much.
Thirty minutes before the class ended, a classmate in training class asked permission from the instructor to take her leave.
The instructor asked her what’s wrong with her. She said, ” I vomitted. I’m not feeling well. “
” What’s wrong?” the instructor asked.
” I think I’m pregnant.”
” Oh. Okay, just don’t leave yet. Go to the washroom and freshen up.”
For those hard of hearing ( which includes me ), the instructor repeated what our classmate just said. Although I sat beside the instructor I wasn’t able to hear what they were talking about.
” Guys, Chessa is not feeling well. She’s going to the bathroom,” the instructor announced.
” What’s wrong?” the class started getting abuzz.
” She’s pregnant guys,” the instructor said, matter-of-factly.
My seatmate, Ike, said, ” Chessa used to be my classmate in college. I know her. So, that’s why she told me earlier this evening that she had a problem.”
” Really? She’s pregnant?” I couldn’t believe the news. Chessa is probably barely in her twenties.
” Yes. She’s pregnant.”
” Is she married?” I asked Ike.
” No. Not yet. She’s just a college student. That indeed is going to be a problem.”
I wanted to tell him that having a baby is never a problem. It’s a blessing. But I try to put myself in Chessa’s shoes. Not long ago, I too believed that having a baby at nineteen would be the end of the world. But now I’m twenty-eight and I don’t think it’s such a curse anymore. In fact, my problem is the exact opposite.
There are just times when I cry thinking about the possibility of never ever having kids. I so want to be pregnant. I so want to have kids. But I’ve just never been lucky in love. I never found the future father to my kids. I guess I never will.
When I got home early in the morning, I dove to bed almost immediately. It took me thirty minutes to go to sleep. My body was tired but my mind was active. I kept thinking about Chessa’s problem. I kept thinking how for me, having a baby would be a blessing. I’d probably cry tears of joy if I get pregnant. I so want a baby that much.
I cried myself to sleep. I kept thinking about the children I would never have and the family I would never have. I’ve never felt so lonely in my entire life.
Love and A Broken Marriage
I guess it was predictable. Actress has successful marriage to an actor, then, her career takes off leaving her not-so successful husband’s career in the dark. Actress wins an Oscar, a few months later, they get separated. No. I’m not talking about Oscar award winner Hilary Swank and her not-so successful actor-husband, Chad Lowe. I’m talking about Reese Witherspoon and her not-so successful actor-husband, Ryan Philippe. Their marriage ended as well.
Why is it that successful career women can’t have successful marriages as well? Why can’t a woman have it all? A man can have it all. An actor can win an Oscar and still manage to go back to his wife who doesn’t resent his success. But it’s different for a guy. No matter how much the less-successful husband denies it, their ego takes a nose-dive when their wives take home the accolades and the bigger paycheck.
The media doubted that Reese and Ryan’s union would last. It was just too good to be true. They were just the perfect blonde, blue-eyed cute couple. They looked good photographed together. They have two adorable kids. They looked happy. But underneath it all, it was just another Hollywood marriage. Hollywood marriages are known not to last long. Elizabeth Taylor tried eight times to have a successful Hollywood marriage. I think it takes more than eight tries to finally find the right Hollywood marriage. When celebrities hook-up, the question in everybody’s head is not, ” Will it last forever?” but ” How long is it going to last?”
Another Hollywood marriage that is doomed to fail: Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban. I’m giving a couple more months for them.
Un-Friendship
I was screwed over by my friend. She assured me that she won’t abandon me but she did. Now I’m very depressed. But I try to limit my depression from twelve noon to one in the afternoon. I’m still worried but I’ll continue worrying tomorrow.
I’m starting my new job today. A job my friend and I should have gone together. But she bailed on me. Now I have no choice but to continue. I don’t even like the workplace and its benefits but I sacrificed everything so I could be with my friend. But my friend suddenly changed her mind.
Sometimes I feel as if I’m too good for my friends. I usually get betrayed, abandoned or hurt by them. But still, at least at the end of the day, I can say that I’ve been a good friend. I wonder if my friends could say the same thing about themselves.
I’ll keep this blog short. Tomorrow I’ll continue whining.
The Perks of Being Sexually Abused
I’ve been carrying Stephen Chbowksy’s novel, ” The Perks of Being A Wallflower” in my bag for over a month now. I read it whenever and wherever I can. I don’t have time to read before bedtime anymore, so I just carry a book with me so that I’ll have something to read while waiting for my gym class to begin, waiting for a long queue or while in the coffee shop. I don’t go to coffee shops often because they can be quite expensive. I’d rather buy more books. But still, there’s nothing like a great coffee shop to read a great novel in.
Note to self: Set-up a coffee place so you’ll have a place to read.
When I read the last chapter to Wallflower, I almost choked. The narrator, Charlie, revealed what I’ve been dreading from the very beginning. Charlie, a fifteen year old boy who was busy coping with high school and high school life, was sexually abused by his Aunt Helen when he was a little boy. The author hinted as much from the very beginning. I guess I always suspected that Charlie’s Aunt had done something wrong. Why else would she kill herself?
I was in my gym’s drinking lounge when I read the final chapter. I tried to hide my tears but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t
help but shed a few tears. The incident in the book reminded me so much of my childhood.
I too was sexually abused when I was barely five years old. Try as I might, I can’t surpress the memories. I guess I always
knew that my uncle had something to do with it. I have memories of him. Memories that shouldn’t have been there. It was only
this year that I realized the full extent of what really happened.
For the first time in over twenty years, I finally figured out that it was my uncle who was to blame for everything. When I
found out several weeks ago, I wished that my uncle would die. I hated him so much for taking my innocence from me. It’s
really tragic. I don’t think I’m ready to write about it in detail just yet.
Love Signs
Women are born to be martyrs. Every woman I know has a martyr complex. We probably got it from Mother Mary. I don’t know what she did exactly but I do know that she sacrificed her future for her husband and son. How’s that for martyr syndrome?
Every woman I know believes that she can change a man. Believe me, not even God is powerful enough to change a man’s bad habits. I should know. I spent eight years to ten years of my life, hoping or praying that my junkie ( now ) EX-boyfriend would suddenly turn into a more responsble guy. I’m glad I didn’t hold my breath. I would have turned deathly blue by now.
A woman can and never will change a man. She has to accept him for who he is–bad habits and all. Most women are anal. We think that we can just fit a square peg into a round hole if we pushed hard enough. But that never works.
I wasted my life trying to wish that my boyfriend were a lot more responsible or a lot more financially stable. Deep inside I knew that he wasn’t the guy for me. But I wanted him to be the one. I was probably crazy or I probably was delusional. I just wanted the relationship to work even if I turned into a very wicked witch whenever I was around him. He wasn’t good for me.
And I suppose, I wasn’t good for him as well. My friend, Dora, who was in a relationship with a guy for five years before it came crumbling down earlier this year told me that she always knew that he wasn’t the one.
” Deep inside I always knew that he wasn’t the guy for me,” she said rather calmly. She’s calm now but I heard that for several months, she drank copious amounts of alcohol to drown out the pain. It was most terrible because he moved on right after they broke up. A couple of months ( or weeks ) after they broke up, her boyfriend found another girl. They got married. He is now a father.
” Why did you stay so long?” I asked her. Of course, I might as well have asked myself the same question.
” I was stupid,” was her simple reply.
” We were stupid. If you use your heart and ignore your brain, you will never go anywhere,” I said.
” How right you are.”
Women want the guy they meet to be the one. I know it’s stupid. But women are built that way. When the signs are all wrong, we ignore it. We’re martyrs. We always want a relationship to work even if it’s clear that it’s not working. We’re optimists.
And men, well, they’re realists. Women may be practical when it comes to practical matters but when it comes to matters of the heart, we’re hopeless romantics. Hopeless romantic being another term for hopeless stupidity.
But there’s hope. If a woman just learns to read the signs and stops ignoring them, she can actually bail out of her relationship before it transforms her into a mean cow.
Oprah said that the way to determine whether a person is good for you or not is to spend time away from that person. If staying away from that person makes you feel good about yourself, then you should stop seeing them. A person who is good for you will always make you feel good about yourself.
I wish I heard this. It would have saved me from much heartache.I know now that there are good relationships and bad relationships. A good relationship turns you into a better person. A bad relationship turns you into a cynic, a pessimist, or worse, it turns you into a bitter person. Sad to say, I belong to the last one. I’ve become bitter. I just refuse to let myself be dictated by it. I know I’ll snap out of it soon. I probably have snapped out of it. I’d like to think so.
Dora’s EX and my EX moved on right away. Yes, they’re jerks. But well, people move on. It’s sad when you’re left in the lurch. It’s not a pretty good feeling. But the way I look at it, it’s better that at least one of you is happy. Okay, that’s still the martyr in me talking. But if the relationship never worked in the first place, why spend a great deal of time grieving over it? The relationship ended because it wasn’t the right kind of relationship. Why fix something that is beyond repair?
Women like to fix things. Women are sentimental. But sentimentality never gets you anywhere. If you hold on to something and you won’t let go of it, how else would you grow and change?
It’s hard. It really is hard for me to cope. But I’m ready. I’m ready to let go of all attachments. Of course, I won’t stop writing about my EX. Call it therapy. I just like something to write about. And yes, heartache seems like a good topic. When I’m ready, maybe I’ll talk about new beginnings.
Background Music as I’m typing this blog: Cyndi Lauper’s The Body Acoustic. The great songs in the album are as follows:
I’ll Be Your River
Above The Clouds
Time After Time with Sarah McLachlan
La Vien En Rose ( not part of the album )
The Fray’s In Over My Head
Warning: Men In Trees Is Dangerous To Your Mental Health
Okay. I am officially gaga over Men In Trees. It’s a great show. It’s a wonderful show. It’s a show about relationships. It’s a show about new beginnings.
Marin Frist ( Anne Heche ), a New Yorker, thought that her life was smooth-sailing. She was going to get married to a handsome and successful guy. Her career was at an all time high. Her books on relationships are bestsellers. She went on book tours and speaking engagements spreading her message of hope to desperate single women everywhere.
She thought she knew it all. She thought she was an expert on relationships. She thought that she had the answers to being happy. Boy was she wrong. On a way to a book tour to Elmo, Alaska, she finds out that her fiance is cheating on her. Her life is instantly turned upside down.
She takes some time off and decides to stay at Elmo, Alaska where men outnumber women twenty to one; where racoons hide in closets and chew on expensive shoes; where skunks attack you; and where there are signs that read: Men In Trees.
At first, Elmo doesn’t appeal to Marin Frisk. She is used to the New York way of life where people have phones perpetually attached to their ears. A place where men and women constantly arm-wrestle with each other to get ahead. But soon the appeal of the Alaskan country-side start to grow on her. And she can’t help but be intrigued by the reticent yet handsome fish and game biologist named Jack.
Marin cannot put her fingers on what makes Jack tick. Jack loves his privacy and enjoys being alone. For Marin Frisk, being alone is daunting as she has never been without a man since she was fourteen years old. Marin has always had a relationship.
She had men who would move her furniture for her or men who would fix her car for her. She’s never been alone. She’s afraid of being alone, but she’s drawn to the shy and silent Jack who seems to be doing fine on his own.
I love the other characters in the fictional town of Elmo, Alaska. I love the Chieftain Pub and its habitues. I love the single manned radio station. Even the wildlife is cute. There’s the skunk and the racoon that lives in Marin’s closet. And need I mention Jack?
Jack played by the handsome and mysterious, James Tupper, just knocks my socks off. Whenever he appears on screen, I have to wipe the drool off the sides of my mouth. He’s just so wonderful and very fascinating to watch. I know that James Tupper, is happily married to a novelist/playwright but heck, can’t a girl dream? I’m more drawn to James Tupper’s character Jack though.
Jack is the silent and cerebral-type. He’s single, smart, handsome and sexy. He does carpentry work. He Heck, I’m almost tempted to fly to Alaska to get to him. I know, I know. It’s all fantasies right now. There is no Elmo, Alaska. The show Men In Trees is filmed in British Columbia, Canada. I know that. But still, can’t I just allow my imagination to run wild? I’d jump over and over into a freezing lake so I could get hypothermic with Jack. It’s not as crazy as it seems. Jack’s solution to hypothermia is to stay warm by lying naked side-by-side. I should know. Marin fell into a frozen lake and had to strip down to her undies. She had to sleep on top of the naked Jack for body warmth. What girl wouldn’t want to spend the night with a handsome and sensitive guy?
I don’t know if Men In Trees is going to be canceled or not. Hopefully, it won’t be canceled but I’ve had my heart broken several times before. I’m realistic. I know that the ‘in’ thing nowadays are vapid and uninteresting reality shows.
Television isn’t about great writing anymore. It’s about big concepts– a race around the world or 39 days on a desert island– and unpredictable reality show contestants. A few years ago, I fell in love with the t.v. show, Miss Match. It was a nice and sweet t.v. show about a divorce lawyer ( the adorable Alicia Silverstone ) who moonlights as a match-maker. Before that, I fell in love with Ally McBeal about a neurotic lawyer and her tortured love life.
Where are the shows about love and relationships? We don’t have that anymore. We have reality shows about an heiress doing stupid things. Or shows about people eating raw cow intestine for twenty-thousand dollars. You rarely find shows that is all about character development and great writing. You rarely find shows that are quotable. You rarely find shows that makes you think and makes you want to move to Alaska.
Men In Trees is a wonderful new show. I don’t have enough clout to save it. My biggest audience are transient surfers who stumble on this blog site. At the most, I’ve had thirty visitors. At the least , I had none. But still, who knows? Maybe someone out there would read this and tune into the show.
I’m just a lonely blogger who finally found a t.v. show that I can watch and enjoy on my alone time.
Men In Trees Quotables: Episode 3:Relationships according to Marin Frisk
One of the hardest things about being single is believing that you are worth something– alone.
Too many single women sell themselves short.
Maybe there’s a real value to figuring out who we are alone. Because we can’t invest in someone in special until we invest in ourselves.
Maybe being alone isn’t something so suffer through. Maybe it’s something to celebrate.
And sometimes the universe celebrates with you. And just because you don’t have someone to share the celebration with doesn’t make it less beautiful.
MacDreamy MacGyver
I had such a wonderful time last night watching episodes of MacGyver. I set out to watch only one episode but one episode turned into two, then two episodes into three episodes. I don’t know how many episodes I watched on DVD but I slept to the sound of the MacGyver theme.
I’ve always loved MacGyver. Richard Dean Anderson was my major crush. I was six or seven years old. He was just so dreamy.
I watched MacGyver with my father. He doesn’t have a thing for R. D. Anderson but he has a thing for MacGyver. Who doesn’t? MacGyver doesn’t believe in violence as a way to solve anything. MacGyver uses his brains not his brawns to solve a problem. He can get out of any tricky situation by using his knowledge of the workings of everyday object to create new things. He thinks on his feet. He can use whatever available materials he has around him.
MacGyver can make an airplane from bamboo scaffolding, duct tape and garbage bags. He can diffuse a bomb using his handy Swiss Army knife. He can weld using a battery pack and some wires. There’s nothing he can’t do.
I don’t know why the t.v. executives haven’t made a movie or a new series based on MacGyver. It would be wonderful to introduce MacGyver to a younger audience. The young people of today don’t have good role models. Most of the kids have role models who believe in guns or violence as a way of solving crimes. It doesn’t help that violent video games such as Grand Theft Auto and Doom are popular among kids.
Violence has never solved anything. It seems like a good solution but after everyone is dead, who’s going to complain? We all need a little MacGyver deep within us.
Unhealthy Living
I’m slowly getting back into the rhythm of writing at least a blog a day. I used to write a blog a day since I started this blog but for the month of October, our internet connection was suspended. We had to subscribe to another ISP.
I’ve been remiss on my blog duties after we got internet access. I can’t really be blamed. It’s so frustrating. Our internet connection gets dropped from time to time. The company hasn’t lived up to its promise of a fast internet connection. So far, we’re only getting less than half of the speed they promised. They always claim that there’s technical difficulties. Technical difficulties my ass!!!!
It’s been two months since I started this blog. A lot of things have happened since then. For one thing, I met a boy. I thought he liked me. I knew I liked him. I wasn’t too sure though if he was willing to overlook the age gap. I wasn’t to sure myself if I wanted to overlook the age gap. He sent me mixed signals. And I don’t know what kind of signals I sent him. Let’s just say that he moved on which kind of hurts. But I’m okay now.
I had a meeting with my EX. Needless to say, I know I don’t love him anymore. I don’t even know why I stayed with him for ten years. I regret every minute that we spent together. During our last meeting, I realized how ugly he is. He made me pay for lunch ( like always ) which is probably the reason why I thought he looked uglier than usual.
I feel used by him though. A few months ago, he called me to visit him in the hospital. When I got there, he asked for money. He was hospitalized for a stomach pain. He said that the pain was severe. They never did figure out if he had appendicitis or not. But he did incur hospital bills. He asked for money from me. Well, he said that if the money he was expecting didn’t arrive on time, he’d have to ask for money from me.
I wasn’t shocked. I knew it was coming. My EX has a good-paying job but he never has money. The last conversation we had he said, ” I don’t have money on me now. You know. I take care of my Dad. I pay all the house bills.” But still, that was no excuse for not paying for lunch. He should have told me that he had no money to pay for our lunch before he met with me. And I really got irritated when he first suggested a much more expensive place.
My mother still refuses to see a doctor. She keeps telling us that she’s not crazy. And I muttered, ” Yes, but given time, you’ll wind up as one.”
My mother remains stubborn. I’m really tempted to medicate her secretly. It would be hard but not impossible. But my sibling keeps reminding me that it’s unethical for us to do that to her. She said that a person has the right to refuse treatment. But I don’t believe in such nonsense. What if the person is not mentally fit to make decisions for herself? Should we just stand by and do nothing while my mother’s bipolar symptoms worsen? Sometimes I just want to drag my mother to the clinic.
My immigration status is still in limbo. I don’t know when I’ll be leaving this damned country. I so want to start a new life. But most especially, I want to start healing. How can I heal if everday of my life I r emember what happened to me as a little girl? I will write about it in detail. Let’s just say I was abused as a kid. The physical part was tolerable. But the sexual part isn’t so tolerable.
My friend made the most funny comment two days ago. She said, ” Why are you worried? You have no problems. ” I almost laughed but I surpressed it. It’s not true. I have problems. It just so happens that my problems are emotional in nature. And for some, they think that it’s the financial problems that really matter. Well, we have financial set-backs as well but it’s my emotional problems that really bother me.
I want to heal but I can’t. I’m still living in a place which is bad for me. I’m still living with people who are bad for me. It’s so unfortunate because there is no way I could escape the people who are bad for me as they are my family. But there’s a way.
Meanwhile, my abuser, continues to live like he hasn’t done anything wrong. He probably thinks that he hasn’t done anything wrong. Oh, but he has. He has. And I want him to suffer for that.
I don’t know how long I’m going to last. There are times when I feel like I’m okay but there are times when I’m tired of living. I’m not suicidal. I want to live. But still, I’m just tired. And it’s staking a toll on my health.
Sky
Created 1.14 am October 27,2006 -Short Story
Gist: About a man in a plane crash plunging towards the earth.
Inspiration: I read an excerpt of a memoir about the Lockerbee plane crash. The book is titled, ” The Boy Who Flew Out of the Sky.” The title got me thinking about falling from a plane crash. What does a person think about when he/she is about to die?
I’m juxtaposing that with actual thoughts from my real life. A few weeks ago, I really liked this guy but I couldn’t tell him that I liked him because he was younger than me. I regret not telling him though. He’s now in the arms of another woman.
Anyway, here’s the short story that I just made today:
Another short story idea: A woman slips on her bathroom tiles and is momentarily paralyzed. She thinks about her life.
Sky
by Ablogaday
I’ve never sky-dived before. I wish I did. If would have at least prepared me for this sensation that I’m feeling in the pit of my stomach. It isn’t a pleasant feeling. I haven’t felt this way before. Or maybe I have. I might have. I remember now. I felt this way the first time Greta talked to me.
Her voice is like sugar. How I wish I could hear her speak once again. But it’s too late for that. It’s too late for everything. It’s odd to be thinking of her at a moment such as this. I can’t help it. When you’re in love, nothing else matters. Nothing else matters but the woman you love. I may be dying ( of course I am ). I don’t have wings to fly. But still, none of that matters. All I can think of his her.
When I first saw her, I knew she was THE ONE. It was the way she laughed. She laughed heartily. Her laugh came from her belly unlike some people whose laughter comes from their throat.
She wasn’t your usual cookie-cutter pretty girl. She was smart yet unassuming. She knew things. She cared about her friends.
She spoke with a purpose. When she speaks, she makes sense unlike the pretty girls I’ve met and befriended. All they ever talk about is boys. But not Greta. She cares about the environment. She cares about social issues such as poverty. I should know, that was the topic of our last conversation. We were becoming fast friends. All we needed was time.
Ironically, time isn’t what I have much of right now. I wish to sigh although I can’t. It’s hard to sigh when you’re hurtling towards the ground at God-knows-what speed I’m falling at. I wasn’t very good at math. I wasn’t very good at anything in fact. I was probably the most average of Joes that you would ever meet.
I wasn’t good at anything in high school. I wasn’t good at mathematics or English. I sucked at science. I hated Chemistry and Biology. I loved history though. My favorite period was the Ancient Egyptian period.
I would have loved to visit the Pyramids of Giza. It’s impossible now. Perhaps in the Afterlife, I can visit Egypt. I wonder what it feels like to ride a camel. I wonder what a camel smells like.
Speaking of smell, I remember Greta’s scent. She smelled of tangerines. I don’t know what perfume she used but she smelled of tangerines. I never had the chance to ask her. I wish I had. But I remember her scent. The last time we talked, we sat face to face. I could almost touch her. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to touch her soft hand. I blame myself now for restraining myself. I know now that love should never be kept a secret.
Our hearts can only take so much strain. If you keep something as powerful as love bottled up, then the pressure would build up over time until it blows up eventually. And all you have would be the shattered remains of your heart. It’s all so clear to me now. I don’t know how I could have been so stupid. But that’s what regret is all about. You experience it after the fact.
Regret is supposed to teach you a lesson. There’s no use for that now. I won’t be learning from my mistakes. It’s over.
Everything is over. My life is over.
Who is going to take care of my dog? I think I may have forgotten to turn off the bathroom light before I left. I don’t remember if I set my t.v. timer on. Who is going to turn off the television now?
I think I lost my shoe. I can feel the cold wind against my bare toes. I wish I wore socks. I was in such a hurry. I was afraid to miss this flight. I was afraid of what my boss would say if I missed this flight. He’d be very disappointed in me.
I wonder if he’d feel guilty over this? He doesn’t even know yet. But he’ll know soon enough. I hope he feels guilty for choosing me to take this assignment. Of all the people…. I have the worst luck.
I’ve always been unclucky. I mean, my first girlfriend cheated on me. When I found out, she dumped me before I could dump her. Some girl she was. I tend to lose my wallet a lot. It doesn’t get lost more like it gets stolen. Pickpocketers love to pick on me. What rotten luck! Now, I can’t even kiss the girl I love. Or rather, loved.
I don’t want to start referring to my life in the past tense but I can’t help it. There’s no moving forward for me after I hit the ground. I’ll probably end up like mashed potatoes or omelette. Not that it would matter. I wonder if it’s going to be painful. It’s probably going to hurt for a milli-second or two. But I doubt that I’ll suffer much.
I’m surprisingly calm for a person whose about to die. I guess it’s because realization takes time. Time is something that I don’t have right now. Who am I kidding? I had spare time but instead I spent my time watching tv or reading books when I should have gone out with my colleagues during the weekends. But I was too serious. I was too shy. Too shy to kiss the girl I love or loved.
I had her. She was this close to me. She sat across me. I sat across her. We laughed. We exchanged storiese. We talked about high school. We talked about politics. We talked about our bestfriends over the years. I think she may have liked me.
Although I’m not too sure. But still… I could have kissed her. I sensed that she was waiting for a kiss from me. After all, we were on a date. Sort of. Well, we were supposed to discuss work-related stuff. We were supposed to go over our paperwork. We did that after we ate our lunch.
She said I was too serious. I really am or rather, I really was serious. I wonder what she’s doing right now. Is she sleeping? Is she awake? Is she drinking coffee? Is she eating breakfast? Does she snore? Does she have any quirks? There’s no way of knowing that now.
I should have kissed her. I should have. I daydreamed about it. I kissed her a dozen times in my head. She had such moist lips. She was a great kisser. She kissed me back. I held her close to me. She felt warm.
I can see a brown patch of land. I wonder where we are. My ears are ringing. It’s really hard to hear my thoughts now. I think I can feel my heart beat. I can see the tops of trees and the tops of buildings and houses. Some of my dreams haven’t come true but at least today one wish came true-I’m flying or rather, I’m falling. But still, this is something.
This is the end. This really is the end. There’s nothing I can do about it. The plane’s fragile exterior cracked into two just like an eggshell. I just happened to be inside. It’s funny how I’ll end up splattered like an egg on the ground. They’ll have to scrape my body parts from the ground. I wonder if Greta is going to cry at the funeral. I hope my bastard boss cries too.
This is too much. The last person who said something to me was the haughty-looking flight attendant. But as soon as the engine failed she wasn’t so haughty anymore. The last thing she ever said to me was, ” Emergency! Grab your ankles. Assume the brace position. Heads down! Stay down!” That was ages ago…..
Running With Rusty Scissors
I finally bought the book, Running with Scissors. I’ve been reading more memoirs than novels this year. Ever since I read the book, A Year of Yes, I’ve been really interested in memoirs. I’m going through a phase. Memoirs are the ‘in’ thing nowadays. It’s the literary equivalent to television’s reality shows.
More and more people are getting interested in real life. I myself find real life more interesting than fiction. Some real-life events seem like fiction but they’re not, which makes for good reading.
I almost bought James Frey’s ” A Million Little Pieces.” I’ve read an excerpt of the book ( care of Amazon.com ) but have decided against purchasing it after the Oprah debacle. James Frey lied about key aspects of his memoir. He made some stuff up which means that technically, his memoir wasn’t a memoir but a semi-autobiographical novel. But from what I’ve heard, his book is compelling stuff regardless if it’s fiction or not. But apparently, people find it compelling exactly because they think that what he went through was real. After his confession, his book disappeared into oblivion.
Memoirs I’ve read this year:
‘Tis- I haven’t really finished it yet. It’s a lot less interesting than it’s predecessor, ” Angela’s Ashes.” I might skip this book and buy the third book, ” Teacher Man.” I’ve read an excerpt. It’s not like Angela’s but it’s good stuff.
A Year of Yes- A woman writes about her year of saying yes to all the guys who asked her out.
Yes Man- Danny Wallace has got to be the funniest writer around. I laughed out loud to his story. He spent a year saying yes to everything which includes saying yes to recreational drugs, telemarketers and trips to several countries. I laughed out loud when the author had his portrait taken. The sketch artist added a dog to the picture even if there was no dog in sight but the author couldn’t say no to this strange request. Danny ended up having a portrait of himself and a dog.
Glass Castle- this memoir made me weep. It’s not as immersive as Angela’s Ashes but the story resonates with me. Just like the writer, I had or rather I still have a dysfunctional family.
Nanny Diaries- it’s not really a memoir. It’s a novel based on the experiences of the two authors who have themselves worked as nannies.
Running With Scissors- I haven’t read it yet but I can’t wait to flip the pages.
