Real Love

I know why you hesitate,

burned by all the fake lovers that you had before.

They put you down and gave you hate...

Don't believe the things they say 'cause baby, you're a dream, you're a score.

'Cause I would walk a million miles for you, just to visit you, baby.

And I'll show you a trillion stars, the Moon is ours.

I just want to engrave this in stone because I believe I've encountered something completely real and amazing. In my lifetime, I met two people who love each other unconditionally... with every semblance of what adults would call "puppy love" but, with all the maturity, hardships and pain most of them will never encounter in a lifetime.

Janey has found love.

And I'm writing this because I am happy for her. I've never been this happy for a friend. In a way, I love Janey (not in the whole lesbian way because I'm so sick and tired of people thinking I am).  I love her and it's the type of love that is never jealous (yes, you can quote the bible verse). I love her because out of all my friends, she's the one who has been there through thick and thin. She understood everything and tried anything you would suggest to her. Unlike Holly, who you can term as my other half (again, not in a lesbian way), Janey is more of my subtle conscience. I have never been mad at her the same way me and Holly fought over a shirt (up to this day we still don't know if it is red or orange). 

When she first told me about Indy (get it?), I assumed. Yes, I was ass for doing so. But I did anyway. 

But seeing them for the first time and reading all about it made me realize that everything I thought was true is wrong. Boy, was I wrong BIG TIME. People can find love in the strangest of places, fall in love in the most unconventional way and find that movie script moments like most of us would hope for but was taught we will never achieve. 

We fall in love. We do. And Janey and Indy's showed me that there is nothing to be absolutely bitter about. There is nothing to over think about. In fact, there is nothing to think about. We feel it because it should be the way it is. We over rationalize it because we're scared and sometimes, taking the plunge should just be how it should be. 

Tears are just part of the story. They make good beginnings (just like in Little Manhattan where the kid bawls his heart out in the beginning). But, just like in any well written story, there's a reason why it's there. Maybe it will lead you to happier times, subtle realizations or simply, a night out with friends. Regardless, one thing remains true. 

Janey, love. I'm here for you. Yes, Someone Anxious (your very self-centered and over zealous, trying hard to be famous but doesn't want to admit it friend) is here for you. A bag of chips? An all meat pizza or maybe just simple rum and red under the night sky? I can only imagine the pain of distance and if there's anything I can do (maybe even never mention it again), tell me and your wish is my command.

You've inspired me, Janey. You've given me that boost and maybe someday, I'll get the chance to write letters to someone too. 

Your friend,

Someone Anxious.

Why my ass is too big and my legs are too long for this country...

Coming from a wake last night and I had to commute on my way home. I was already tired from a stressful day at work and although the rain has subsided, pools of dirty water were still present on my usual route. 

I had to take a jeep (and although it's usually my usual jeepney route coming from my (gay, fashion designer) uncle, I had such a hard time fitting myself in the front seat. Then it hit me.

Maybe my ass is just too big and my legs are too long for this country. 

Honestly, I've always had such a hard time. There even came a point in my life when I had to pay for two people. My legs are squished and even when I ride the shuttle to work, I have to practice being a contortionist. 

I can blame it on the genes. My grandfather was tall (I don't know if he was just born this way or years of playing basketball and baseball developed his legs). My grandmother has quite the hips (this I can truly attest to genetics as every female in my family has what they call "(My grandmother's maiden name) Hips".

I can blame it on the millions of jeeps I've encountered. Maybe they truly been built that way... to make me feel so uncomfortable that I have to blog about it for release. 

Or maybe, just maybe... I'm not meant to be in this country to begin with. 

I find it truly difficult to argue with my sister now and even though I detest the idea of leaving (check my previous entries if you want to know why), I am now facing a situation where I might consider it after all. I told myself once that I will only leave for that scholarship... that prestigious scholarship that makes all the difference in the world. That scholarship that will put me at ease and remind me that I did not talk crap all the way through college. 

That scholarship that gets me one step closer in raising my middle finger to him. 

Then again, why do I have to put him in this equation? The world has turned and everyone has moved on. I also believe so have I. But... there's that sense of payback or revenge that I truly want. The same reason I want to date that guy or do this and be that. I think I'm too into this revenge is best served cold kind of thing. Or maybe I'm just a lovesick fool.

I suddenly have this inclination to run. To chase the sun and never stop moving. All of a sudden, I feel restless. 

I can't help but think that maybe I am meant to leave after all...

...or maybe have my own car. 

Someone Anxious. 

From Reading.

I used to read a lot. Back then, when my brother would hog the television and I was stuck in my room all day, I would read Harry Potter, Sweet Valley Twins, Nancy Drew, Crime Novels and all sort of other books that I could get my hand into.

source:  http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m83jc3lQ6V1qz6f9yo1_500.jpg 

I never really had patience for textbooks though.

Aside from religion book, I never liked the way the text was printed. It was impersonal, very rational (leaving no room for the readers imagination) and very keen to grade your understanding of what you read (as there was always a comprehensive exercise after every chapter).

Now that I'm working, I find myself reading business books (which in my head, are the same as text books).. For those of you who really know me well, you probably know that I'm not the business sort of person. Yeah, I have my little accessories business (which is on hold as of the moment) but that doesn't make me an "entrepreneur extraordinaire".  In fact, now that I think about it, I've probably placed myself in a situation where I am far as possible as doing my own business. Even my uncle's offer to head certain parts of his business I out rightly refused simply because I always knew that it isn't the perfect time for me... or the fact that I'm just not a business person.

Yes. I'm not really a business sort of person. I think, a lot of people forget that I'm not very passionate when it comes to business. Really, I'm not. I like my work and I want to be successful in it but when it comes to managing finances or seeing something corporate grow, I'm not passionate about it. Yes. I'm not. I really am not. What I like about what I do is how I get to interact with people, think about the processes people undergo everyday and help them develop in some way or another. I don't really like the business part of what I do. I like the people part.

I guess that's what I'm really passionate about. People. Thinking about it, all of my hobbies are about people. Take for photography for example, I like taking photos of people during their special moments. I love making videos of weddings because I feel like there so much energy there. Even food! What brings everyone together, eh? Isn't it food? Are we not all bound by a special occasion or moment by food?

A blogger I follow posted about passion and how he has to really start making time for the things he is passionate about. This idea has been drifting in and out of my consciousness since last night and I realized that day jobs (or the thing that keeps me alive) are really what makes you a lame Joe. IF I don't have a day job, I can't afford to pay my monthly bills, pay for my share of expenses with my dad or even save up for that laptop I really want to get fixed.

Simple really.

S.A.