NOW PANIC and FREAK OUT!

Posts tagged my life

I rarely open my Facebook account, because Facebook bores me. I was about to update my status, though, so I did a quick look as well.

A friend’s post hit me right in the chest:

“There are two tragedies in life. One is to lose your heart’s desire. The other is to gain it.”

It’s a George Bernard Shaw quote.

The thing is, I finally have what I want. I’ve been waiting for this day for five freaking long years, and now it’s here. 

But everything’s so meh. Where are my tears of joy? Where’s the indiscriminate hugging of complete strangers? Where’s my heavenly host with their trumpets and harps?

Part of me thinks none of this is really happening. I know it’s true on a mental level, but I suppose nothing has really sinked in yet. I’m still completely flipped. I’m not sure I’m doing this properly.

I’m not even at that point where I’m freaking out because I don’t know if I’m gonna do well. I don’t feel anything at the moment.

It’s more along the lines of, “yes, I’ll be teaching Asian History to sophomores in two weeks”. 

That’s it. 

Maybe it’ll be more real once I’m in the actual classroom, ranting and raving like a loon while my students feign attention. 

For now, though, it’s just me and my catatonia again. 

… but my life is really one big Pride and Prejudice knockoff.

Now with meddling relatives, who knew?

But everything’s fine, because the Bennetts are of one mind on this one. 

I suppose there is truth in the old adage. 

HELL IS OTHER PEOPLE. 

Yesterday I tried to manipulate my office crush into sitting next to me on the company shuttle. 

I made mental calculations.

There were three women in front of me. Two of them were friends.

A group of three guys stood behind me.

Then, glory of glories, my office crush.

**Who, I suppose I should mention now, is adorable and looks like Harry Potter. He’s so tiny I could crush him in my man-arms.**

I started anticipating seating arrangements, based on my daily shuttle-riding experience. Before anything else, here’s the layout of the shuttle, because I obviously have so much time on my hands.

Assuming that none of them will sit beside the driver, I surmised that the lone girl would sit in the first row (behind the driver). The two girls after her would opt for the second row, because, well, fuck the first row. 

Anyway, I decided I would sit in the third row, because then the three guys behind me would want to sit together, so they would choose to sit in the fourth row. 

Which leaves my crush. 

The last seat on the second row will not be occupied yet, because that’s the jump seat (foldable) and sitting there would be a douche move when there are still two unoccupied seats in the third row. 

Which leaves the two seats on the first row, or the two seats on the third row. 

As I’ve mentioned, fuck the first row. From experience, I know that a lot of people choose to fill up the third row first. The first row is always the last option. 

And it almost worked.

Almost.

The plan worked perfectly at first. The people in line sat as I anticipated. The moment of truth: I was actually stifling my villainous (Paquito Diaz is that you?) laugh as I saw my crush coming towards me. 

Mu-ha-ha-

He chose the solo seat on the third row and some bimbo ended up sitting between us.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

…balance has been restored. My faith in the No. 1 Man in my life is fully restored.

Up till this morning I’ve been completely wrapped up in a mix of emotions.

I seriously wondered whether I would ever be the same again after suffering through such a disappointment.

The people I trust to be perfect have shown chinks in their armor.

I was devastated.

But then I hear of the name Maximo Peligro — driver of the bombed bus that stopped traffic on EDSA this afternoon — and I realize that life is just a series of jokes.  Some of them are ironic. Some of them are wry.  Some of them are actually funny.

Life sucks.

Life is fucked up.

Life is completely absurd.

We really have no choice but to laugh along.

******************

Brief disclaimer: this is not to make light of the tragedy that claimed four lives and wounded more than a dozen others. It just so happened that I’m actually going through a lot right now, and the name Maximo Peligro really broke through my shell and set me right again. Sort of like an accidental Daoist master, really.  Thank you, MP.

This Be The Verse

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.

(Philip Larkin)

What really destroys me, I suppose, is the realization that in this family there is no Mr. Bennett. 

I am, at the moment, trying to get blind fucking drunk by spiking my flavored water with this miniature bottle of vodka I have on my desk.

It is not working. 

One expired can of beer down my gut and I’m still so fucking angry at everything and everyone and fuck you all I hate this goddamn world.

Okay.

Now that that’s out of the way.

Today’s bullshit lunch (see previous post for details) went as smoothly as a lunch in hell can be smooth.

Sexist and very insulting insinuations aside, I managed to survive things.

I think the real point here is that people can be completely fucking clueless and insulting and annoying, but what’s really shocking, at least for me, is the fact that the very people I trust and believe and look up to are actually not any better.

So life sucks and I need more vodka.

Seriously.

Just the other day I got a rather annoying but still tolerable request to “meet” someone.  The plan: dupe me into visiting guy’s parents’ home under pretext of “house blessing”, where I accidentally get to spend time with guy in question.  A “go-between” neighbor suggested my mother keep this teensy little detail from me, just in case I say no.

My mom, fearing my legendary temper, decided it was more prudent to let me know.

Briefly: I said yes, because the parents of said guy are sort-of friends and used to be our neighbors. They’re pretty nice, though I don’t really know them that well, and the polite thing to do is go along and pretend that I know nothing of their cutesy little ploy.

I’d go to their stupid little house blessing thing, smile and nod and talk to guy, then go home with social obligations fulfilled.  No additional promises.

BUT THEN THINGS HAVE THIS UNCANNY WAY OF TURNING INTO SHIT. 

This morning go-between neighbor’s wife called my mom, excited about this weekend’s meet-and-greet.  Could my two other sisters come along as well?

Here’s a tiny bit that might require a little explaining to non-Tsinoy readers. When you say you’re going to “meet” someone, it’s a sad little exercise in mutual evaluation.  Essentially, every other single girl you bring into the mix is another “potential” partner. 

You can see why I flipped.

Obviously, guy in question has no idea who I am. He’s probably seen me once or twice, but I can bet you he doesn’t know my name.  Asking my other sisters to “visit” their house as well is tantamount to asking us three to present ourselves and await his judgment.

FUCKING A.

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