Rainbow or Stars... Or Neither?

Tonight maybe we'll see stars in the rain...

It rained last night. And the tears fell. When hectic days are about to end following more than a month of cleaning and packing and unpacking and reorganizing, loneliness creeps in. I realize that I never stopped thinking of him. I got used to him calling me almost every night and I have formed the habit of checking my phone every now and then, but since late last month, I have been ding my best to get busy. I consider myself lucky because friends were there for me. Friends whom I thought wouldn't care, would chat me every now and then to check up on me. I think they're doing it to get me distracted, to help me get over this painful heartbreak. It took a whole lot of me to push through with it, because everytime we are together, my heart overflows with love and affection but I always end up getting pushed away. He pushed me away far too many times, and each time he did, I was also distancing myself twice as more until I finally understood and just accepted that he doesn't want me in his life. It sucks, to have thought that maybe he was different but he's just like any other player out there. The games and all, me asking why he hates me so much, why he came to me int my life only to ruin my peace? Why all the mind games, why all the cycles of push and pull, all the drama that he created and doesn't want to be responsible for.

We're going in circles again...

Last night while doing some research for two major reports, I happened to fall asleep, my phone back to silent mode since I no longer expect anyone to call me. I don't want to keep expecting him to call me, I don't want to see myself disappointed again. I woke up in a groggy state but with just enough energy to shut down my machine and go to sleep properly. And then I checked my phone.

Rainbow or stars? How could I ever be afraid?

I had one missed call last night. The log registered his name. And the tears came. 

A flood of memories came crashing all over me. The first time he held my hand, the first time he laid my head on his shoulders in the bus, the first time we traveled together, the first time he kissed me, so suddenly that I was surprised and he thought I evaded it... The first time he introduced me to his brothers and friends, the first (and last) time we jogged and biked together, the first time I stepped in his second homeland, the first time he cooked for me, the first time we cooked together... Painfully sweet memories. 

And equally painfully bitter memories of the first time he shrugged my hand off,  the first time he betrayed me followed by many more betrayals, the first time he walked away from me, the first time I discovered I wasn't special to him at all because he would also cook for other women, the first time I realized he was an expert in manipulating people but I was too blinded by love, the first time I realized he was draining the life out of me... And trust, one of the big foundations, eroded. And acceptance, another important foundation, became an issue. To what extend can you accept a person's flaws? Because some flaws are pardonable in love, and certainly some are not. 

Beyond the bright lights, when it's all over, I see.

I fought the urge to ring his phone, like what I used to do whenever I missed his calls. He would reprimand me to always have my phone by my side because what if there is an emergency call I need to take? But my sleepiness got the better of me. I remember the many times I asked for favors only to fall on deaf ears. Empty words of wanting to be with me, but I realized, it was only because I was fun to be with. (My male friends used to tell me they liked being with me, but ours were more like brothers and sister.) I felt offended whenever he would tell me he doesn't want any drama, that he wants us to be happy always. Yet he was also the one who destroyed that "happiness". I gave up trying to comprehend his definition of happiness, because for me it apparently means only his happiness, mine is out of the equation. I couldn't be myself, I was losing myself, slowly in a  way that is heart-breaking. If I had to mask my real self, then he clearly does not want me, but the version of me that he idealized in his mind.

Tonight maybe I'll see the stars in the rain.

Rain fell again this afternoon. Hours later, I discovered this song while looking around for songs in Youtube. Tears fell again. Everything is sinking in. This is the difficult part, when you have to fight with every ounce of strength you have, fight off these feelings, fight off the reasons that made you love him so much because even though there were so many of them, they're all just part of the past. The present is more important.

And looking back we never exchanged vows. I did, but he never did. I vowed never to hurt him, vowed to always wait for him. I have not yet sworn to the moon so I can certainly take back my vows with the realization that love is never enough. In the end, I had to accept that what we had was only an imaginary relationship. I thought it was real, it wasn't for him. It took me more than a year to understand that simple yet important principle. 

So I am walking away on my own. No need for him to push me away.

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It still is a miracle to find myself at the top of my game at work and in school even under these circumstances. I have slowed down a bit, but I can definitely and proudly say that UP has instilled in me a strong sense of honor and excellence, strong foundations that will not easily be broken. But then, I feel that I have lost my spirit. 

Sagada Memories in Photos Part 1

Yorghurt House's omelette: my first meal on my second trip to Sagada. I had breakfast with two stranger-turned-friends. Met the two upon arrival at the town hall. They were also part of the planting project.

mixed fruits yoghurt: simple delight after a light meal

Sagada Brew

The famous Lemon Pie House which I still haven't tried. More reasons to go back. :)

T, K, and I saw this along the way when we explored the town. The first thing that came to mind upon seeing this was fat fried chicken! They laughed. It's not everyday that I get to see super chubby chickens.

Yoghurt House. Fond memories <3

The inscription reads "SAGADA AD 1921". The bell is located inside the church complex.

K and I encountered this house which I believed to be William Henry Scott's house. They say his library is still pretty much alive, but that most books have been discarded. AWWWWTS!!!

Sagada Weaving. The weavers of Sagada make excellent quality bags. On this trip I added a mailbag and a coin purse to my collection of woven bags. Next time I am buying one of those more pricey but more elegant bags for formal events.

Rocky Valley Inn and Cafe. Across this establishment we hanged out and waited t be picked up by one of the project leaders.

Took this photo while we were toured on wheels so not a lovely angle but I at least was able to snap a photo of the place where we used to stay way back in 2012.

chicken pesto past at P250:  it's light and it's tasty

Side stop to Lake Danum late in the afternoon only to be met by thick fog. I love sunsets but I also like fog (as long as no smoke is mixed in LOL) That is me in my 7 year old camisa de chino which dates back to my archaeo days and which I now wear for planting work.

In front of this altar I prayed and cried twice. Prayed for God to show me the way, to enlighten my mind, to lead me to peace, to lead me to the right people who can be truly family to me and who will treat me right. I remember the Light and I renew my vow to make her proud. I know she'd love to see finish my masters.

Corn and rice planted alternately on these mini terraces. The smell of both waft in the air. I super love Sagada!!!

The super cozy wooden cabin house where we stayed.  Super nice interiors.

Around this bonfiire we hanged out, debated, and told stories.

Just some random extra cute shiny beetle.

I got to try eating using this biodegradable plate. Yum yum! The pinikpikan is to die for. Never mind that it requires tortured chicken huhu. But the taste is exquisite.

the incubation area for seedlings before they are transferred to Mother Earth.

Sagada Memories: Stories

On the third week of June, I joined a coffee-planting volunteer work in Sagada. It was the perfect time to unwind, to go somewhere far where I had been and meet new people in the process. I was a bit heartbroken a few days prior because for the nth time, he hurt my feelings. Many would say that I am too sensitive. I do admit that, but it's only because I take great care not to offend nor hurt the ones I love that I expect the same from them. This June opened my eyes to the reality that he never loved me. He never cared for me and he never respected me. As I have said in my previous post, he is just a pretentious boy who has to rely on deceit to get by. Strong people would never resort to such lowly tactics because strong people protect, they do not hurt other people. So if there is one truth he said, it is that he is weak. He can brag about his many achievements, but those things do not define a  man; relations do, being a mindful and compassionate person does.

A few days before I left for Sagada, we met up because he needed help and I, as usual, wanted to be there for him. Only to be disrespected. We met his friends and they were talking in their own native language, without even thinking if I felt out of place. I can catch some of the words thanks to my training in Bahasa but most I do not comprehend. I felt so sleepy (as usual) after our dinner at a simple eatery. The place serves really good grilled stuff mostly grilled chicken (no squid though...). I got offended when he invited his FEMALE friend (whom he says is already engaged.. or married? I don't care) to swim at his place, WHEN HE NEVER INVITED ME. And he was just super insensitive and kept on asking me what's wrong with me. A boy can never comprehend a woman when he refuses to take the effort to. Then came one of the most heartbreaking part when he left me alone in the streets at night all of a sudden, bringing my backpack down on the ground and walking away to hail a cab. At least he was still nice enough to carry my heavy backpack that night (#sarcasm).

But we patched things up that night. Yet after that night, things were never the same again. I didn't even cry when it happened. It opened my eyes that I was dating an immature boy who only cares about himself. He says I was controlling him. He was swallowed by paranoia, thinking that me helping him meant I wanted to control him. It only made me see that the relationship is really going nowhere. He never did trust me, despite him always saying he does so. That incident made me rethink our relationship, made me question my choices to love him with all my heart. You can always love a person, but should stop when that person refuses to be loved. Take it or leave it, there's no in-between.

So going back to Sagada, which should be the heart of this post: the night of my departure, I told him I was in the bus terminal, hoping he would come visit me even for a while to see me off. Nothing of the sort happened. Stubborn me, I reprimanded myself back then. Why did I keep on hoping for him to do things for me??? He couldn't even face my parents, he had to be forced to meet my sisters. With a heavy heart I left Manila for Sagada, that place in the north where he traveled with his French girlfriend whom he is proud to have. He always is proud to have had a French girl and even planned to marry her despite that circumstances in which they met. What decent guy would marry a girl who got drunk and got inside a stranger's room to make out with a stranger? And I being idealistic, believing in the power of humans to change, didn't make much of it. The present is always more important. So while in the bus, when I was not sleeping I was crying. Coz... they play sappy music in the bus... Makes me remember the days when he was sweet to me and makes me wonder if he really did love me, even one bit. (Okay I will stop, he clearly DOES NOT!!! Dear girl, quit your delusions!)

In Sagada, I met nice people who somehow took my mind off him. I met interesting women. One is an almost 40 year old woman but still looks young, probably because of her outlook in life. She is very motherly and it makes me wonder why no guy pursued her. (But oh well, only boys roam the world, boys who like the superficial.) She was with her friend who was able to study in Australia on a scholarship. The friend is a daughter of a former government official and although the family name is extraordinary, I failed to make a connection until later. In fact, they had to tell me. LOL. Another is a quiet woman, already married and whose husband is working abroad. She is a businesswoman and has made herself financially independent thus allowing herself to travel alone even without the support of her husband. But my heart was shattered when I learned that she is having an affair. Just what is wrong with the world??? We had a heart-to-heart talk before we parted ways and that was when she shared her story. I, of course, cautioned her against continuing the affair. I told her, that I understand her needs; her husband is away, but THAT IS NOT AN EXCUSE. When you marry someone, you commit to the relationship, you commit to being a good wife to your husband (or being a good husband to your wife). Besides, the person she's having an affair with is also married and has kids. Being a homewrecker will not make her happy. So I shared with her how my dad destroyed my view of males, how angry I was (still am) at him when we learned of his affairs. And I asked her to think what if his child grows up to be like me? I reminded her that this is no win-win situation.

I was reminded of the time when someone asked me out for a date but who turned out to be already married. When I found out, I already liked him a bit. But you will know how strong you are when you are able to walk away from temptations. And I just did. So whenever I think of my frailty, I will always think of that moment when I fought myself hard to do the right thing before our "friendship" deepens and before I do something that will cause me guilt all of my life. That is how fidelity works. You nip it in the bud. You do as Ulysses did when he ordered his men to tie him up and put ear plugs on to resist the seductive sirens. Such preventive mechanism will enable you to step away from things that you will regret later. They say that affairs usually start out as innocent friendship. But it blossoms because you spend too much time together than necessary. You know you are in big trouble when you are more concerned about this extra lover than about your official lover (i.e. husband/ wife). It is also this reason that whenever I talk to my male friends, I would make it a point to tell them about A, to send the message that I am already off-limits. (Only to find out later on that he dated a girl in his class with whom he shared my work and he told her that "we used to date". "Used to" when at that time we were still good. So what does that make him?)

So going back to the people I met in Sagada... There was this one doctor who seemed to have not yet moved on  from his breakup. I don't know the full story but "motherly friend" (hereinafter T) and "popular daughter" (hereinafter K) told me that he was all out in his recent relationship and was disappointed because the girl's efforts were minute compared to his. He was emphasizing EFFORT. I do understand where he is coming from and I feel sorry for  him. Girls normally put in much effort, too much effort even, for the men they love. But then, I also acknowledge that bitches also exist. (Of course we only got to hear his side of the story... So okay, the skeptic in me is making a lot of questions... LOL) One evening, I joined them around the campfire. They were drinking and chatting. I just wanted to see how they drink. I like observing people when I am not engaging them. So I sat beside T and K and he invited me to sit closer to him. Of course, I didn't do that because he was already drunk. They offered me a drink and I put a former professor's wise words to practice. Since I don't drink I usually feel out of place. One way of still becoming one with the group is to accept the drink but to announce for everyone to hear that such is my first and last because I DO NOT DRINK. PERIOD. So no amount of coaxing will work. (I don't understand why people become alcoholic. Alcohol tastes bad.. EWWW!!!)

They asked me if I had any companion in the project (none), my reasons for joining (vacation break), and why I travel alone (to challenge myself, though actually the real challenge for me is travelling with incompatible companions). I think they were expecting me to say that I was looking for love in Sagada following the popularity of the movie "That Thing Called Tadhana". I forgot what our topic was but then when asked about something, I casually replied, "because boys are uncaring." And he couldn't accept it, demanding answers all night long until we had to put out the fire at 10PM. LOL. Funny experience! But the strange thing is, although he was drunk, I didn't feel scared of him. I normally distance myself from drunk people. Maybe because I sensed a loadful of loneliness and frustrations in him. Empath mode on again. Sigh. I will really drain myself out fast if this keeps going.

The only other person who doesn't drink is X (I forgot her name...). She graduated from a private all-girls' school known for social activism. Needless to say, she works in the development sector and plans to take up further studies abroad. She's a people person and it's not hard to see that she has a strong personality. Meeting her made me realize that most of those in the development sector come from well-off family and I came to formulate that there is a general pattern. No wonder those who are selected in foreign scholarship programs are mostly from rich families, because they have access to these experiences which are not readily available to the average person who is most likely to end up a corporate slave in a private firm (ehem). And it is a misconception that salaries in NGOs and social work are small. Heck no, they are even bigger compared to those in the corporate world. So it got me thinking, is this the modern day version of elite cooptation? Of course there are exceptions. I have a friend who was a product of the public school system and who had so much grit she was able to get one of the most coveted slots in Japanese scholarship program. 

I could have taken my time in getting to know everyone in the project. But then the group was big so my introvert self was screaming to be alone.

Vietnomnom and Some Childhood Memories

On the last Sunday of May after our annual pilgrimage to Antipolo, we headed to Maginhawa for lunch. Times like this, even though disputes with my father are endless, I know that there are times he wants to close the gap between us two. I was (probably still am?) his favorite, and he used to be my ally whenever my mother would pick on me. In my childhood days, I viewed my mother as a monster, and fantasized about my yaya being my real mother. My mother has always had a penchant for releasing her frustrations on me. When, as a young child, I saw my then five or six year old aunt on a pony in a photograph, I took the photo and claimed it was me. Memories are always blurred (that's why I keep this online journal) and they have a funny way of being remembered, like how that visit to a Vietnamese restaurant made me experience again that my father still loves me. (Coz you know, food is love.)

chicken bowl: a lovely mix of greens and meat on rice.

shrimp pomelo salad: cheaper here compared to other establishments. Super love the sauce. Also, super love the pomelo because it's not everyday that one gets to eat sweet pomelo. (And I remember someone special who brought two pomelos from Davao for me, the first (and last...) time he brought me something from his travels.)

mushroom roll: hands down my favorite in this resto!!!

This is a super late post. I normally let it pass when it's been a long time but then I want to document our food trips after the Antipolo pilgrimage. Last year it was at Alex III along Matalino St. The most memorable one is when I was in high school and we stopped at Grilla where I discovered my love for grilled food. Yum!!!

First Night in New House

Around this time last month, my parents, a sister, and I slept in our new house in the north. It was a tiring day having to unload all our stuff from the car and then finding the space to place our things. The house is smaller than our previous house and we had to move due to financial difficulties. (It is hard to do business in PH because of poor government implementation. We have brilliant minds and brilliant ideas that look good only on paper but do not get carried out faithfully in real life. In addition to that, traditional people need to keep up with the fast-changing world lest they lose in the rat race. The world is already full of evil and cunning people, the ones who will do everything just to get to the top.  I wonder how they can sleep soundly at night knowing the harm they do to other people. Okaaaay, I digress...)

Since the stove and cooking utensils were still in our former house, we had dinner at a restaurant nearby. We had all my favorite food: roast beef, calamares, and tempura. During lunchtime, I only had mangoes and rice because my dad bought lechon liempo and I got furious because he hadn't thought of me. (I don't like pork.) We also bought Jollibee chickenjoy meals but these were just enough for the workers. What happened was, on the way to the new house, we stopped by a Jollibee drive-through and ordered value meals while my sister went down to buy our food in the shop besiide Jollibee. After getting our purchases, we waited for sister at the exit. Much to my dismay, she bought lechon liempo (roast pork) instead of lechon manok (roast chicken). Since we were in a hurry, I resigned myself to fate. Thank heavens we brought mangoes with us. At least it felt like eating sushi.

roast beef: we all love the sauce

Like the calamares, the tempura lacks character and taste. Maybe the cook forgot to add salt!!!

We slept super late that night because there still were a lot of things to do. It was a simple night: the parents slept on a matress-less bed, made comfortable only by the thick blanket I was able to bring. My sister and I shared the sofa bed. Good thing I was able to bring a small pillow. Since we were all dead tired, we fell asleep immediately only to be woken by barks outside and my paranoid parents grew suspicious and anxious. Thank God the next day was a holiday.