Manhattan and Happiness

I am obsessed with Manhattan.

As any obsessed person would know, being obsessed means always thinking about it. Dreaming that you are in that place. Just knowing that in a couple of years you'll soon wear that dreamy pair of sandals you bought half price at a Shoe Sale walking the streets of Lower - or Upper Manhattan.

Maybe it's Sex and the City. Or it maybe the dream itself. I am amazed about how much I think of Manhattan. NYC. The Big Apple. I dream of being able to enter Wall Street and just be there, in the midst of all the hustle and bustle.

Oh, how I dream about Manhattan.

Manhattan, if you think about it, is a lot like Baguio, my home. It can get VERY cold sometimes. Or very warm in certain months. Manhattan is a place of "many hills", just like Baguio. And just like my hometown it has a lot of places to go to, restaurants to eat at.

Session Road, like the famed Golden Gate Bridge, has been a haven for those who do not have someone in their lives. And just like Carrie Bradshaw, I have nothing much to do except fret about being single, and write feelings for everyone to see.

Plans in my life ALWAYS involve Manhattan. Someday, I would also see those sailors, and maybe I could hook me up with someone. Just like Miranda. Or Samantha Jones.

Writing this entry makes me realize I am not obsessed with Manhattan itself. It's with the dream of someday, I would be just like the people in the series I grew to love. Too busy to care, too busy with life to even think about the bad things going on around them.

I glance into my Golden Gate Bridge and wonder how life would be after 15 years. Will I still be the same? I have changed a lot, I know, and with that a lot of people are affected. People I always think highly of, people that make me who I am.

Someday, when I am standing, looking at the real Golden Gate Bridge, I will remember this entry, and the people I wouldn't want to leave behind, but have to, for me to find real happiness.

Ah. Now I know. I am obsessed with finding real bliss.It is not Manhattan.Nor Sex and the City.

It's finding genuine happiness.

Pain

Pain. Everybody goes through them. Physically, every time someone experiences any illness, a common headache perhaps, we are assured that sooner or later it will go away. But emotionally - ah - it is fact that it will never go away that easily. In fact, it may never be a bright sunshiny day for some of us.

I have heard a song so many times before. In fact, I have memorized most of the lines myself. It has been one of my favorites, the first song I have ever saved in my MP3 player, and it is still there. I have tried my best not to hear the song, listen, yes, but hear? It pains me that somewhere, a long time ago, I sang the song in front of someone I have loved for the longest time. It was a song I have lovingly dedicated to the one person that made me think ok my future with. The song was full of hope, full of earnest patience. In the future, we will all have better days, it said. And in order to be in a better life, one should get through the night.

It was a busy night last night. I had a lot of work to do, things thought about. The player was silently playing in the corner of the office, to give comfort to those who would like to have a break in the middle of the shift. Then there is was, the song. My best pal, who sat next to me, told me about her conversation with the person I dedicated the song to.

"He said 'This is Chaz' song.'" She said.

I was surprised. How could one song make me want to cry, again, after a couple of days that I haven't thought about him? Was it because that song was heartfelt-fully sung in front of an eager crowd? Was is because in a way, he felt what I felt when I sang that song? Or was it because he knew that I am still hurt with the situation that we are both in. I wondered, aloud, to my best pal, about being able to get through the pain I have been going through.

Funny to think that I have gotten over it. I thought I was. But that song brought me back to my senses. I could never really get through this. If there are any closures to make, it would be with my feelings, my emotions.

I thought I already made amends with myself. But I was wrong.

Pain.

Everybody goes through them.

Physically, like breaking a bone, it would go away, with a strong 500 mg pain reliever pill and a short period of time. But emotionally, like having your heart broken, can take a long while to heal.

I am still hoping for better days.

I will make it through the night.

Going Straight

Once you've joined the bandwagon, there is no turning back.

That's what I have always believed in. Realizing I was gay in the 3rd gay, it does count that I have reasons why I'd like to believe that. However, because of a recent event that rocked my belief to the core, I tend to ask a question: Is it really that possible to join the "other side" when you have been on "this side" for the longest time?

It is one of the nightmares a straight woman would never dream of having- learning your "better" half turns out to be gay. I have asked a friend about that before.

"What if you learned your lover was gay?" I asked, curious about what the "no-so-opposite" sex thought.

"I'd die" she said. "I'd die then die again."

A close friend once told me a story about finding out her lover was gay. She told me her ex-lover did not admit he was. He just thought it was silly. She thought it was silly too. Until she found her ex in bed, with another man.

Maybe it's because I have cursed the label "hopeless romantic" already. Or maybe it is the fact that I don't think I would be happy living a lie. But I really don't think it would work. Call me pessimistic. I don't think a "straight-woman-gay-man" scenario would work.

Not unless both parties know ALL about the other person. And that would require a lot of courage, not to mention denial.

Do not get me wrong, I think in love, nothing is impossible. There are no barriers in loving someone, not even any if's or but's. Everything is fair in war and love.

That is where the real question lies. I am confused, can a real woman really love someone, knowing that the person she loves may love someone else, someone that has something she could never have? Can a gay man actually love a woman, with all his heart, without looking at the man at the next line, realizing that he has rock hard abs?

Okay, it is not a question on loving someone. It all boils down to one thing - being able to remain faithful no matter what temptation comes. Now that's something we really should think of.

To my friend, who have found real love in an unexpected situation - at least for me - I am happy for you. You have found love, something that I have been looking for for my entire life. In a way, I envy you, because someone has accepted you for who you are. I just wish that even if everything changes, you would remain the same person I have known for a while.

Congratulation, you have now gone straight.

The Case of the "Pancit" Date

One of the perks of working during graveyards shifts is being able to go on early morning dates. The bad thing about it is that if the person you have just met is really interested in you, it's either he is too young (and on the way to school), to old (can't sleep because of athritis), or is just to plain ugly (the "what-do-i-have-to-lose" guys). Yeah, I know, I sound really really conceited. But really, most of the guys I meet during earl mornings are (sorry) sore losers.

Being in a bad date is like being in a boat ride in Burnham. You know the water is murky, and it definitely smells like sewage (cause it is sewage), but you and your tourist friends still ride an overpriced boat just for the heck of it.

A bad date has three factors:
1. Me, and my hopeless quest for someone to truly love,
2. Him, and his awfully quiet or sometimes bad date demeanor, and
3. An overpriced restaurant or cafe where a bowl of overcooked pasta sells for at least half the price of the entire building.

Yes, we have been through bad dates. A night out with a date usually ends up with him drunk and you covered in puke. A stroll in the park with him in GOd-forbid tsinelas and you in a Choo. Ordering an expensive coffee at a cafe, not knowing that he does not have money and you have to pay for it.

But nothing beats a Pancit Date. This kind of date usually involves you, him, and a bowl of pancit. Yes, pancit. Pasta would be nice. Fetuccini Carbonara, or a bowl of piping hot Pasta Putanesca to warm your cold belly. But pancit?

It is not that I have anything against the typical Filipino merienda fare. It is just that if you would like to please someone, pancit is definitely NOT the food to place on the table.

Rei, a very good friend, was with me a couple of days ago. It was my restday and I wanted a change of scenery. So we talked. And having brought up the situation where he met a couple of gay guys who bought pancit for him to stay, I cant help but laugh. I mean, it really is not the food. I love pancit just as much as the people at the other table. It is just that a lot of people right now cover the fact that they are something they aren't! I mean, I wear makeup and huge earrings just as an expression, but these guys wear men's clothes, but has an inch-thick application of foundation on their faces. Talk aboout confused.

I know, I really don't make sense right now. Maybe it's because I am also confused. I mean, I love pancit and I am still looking for the right man.

Maybe with the right man, a plate of pancit wouldn't be bad, after all.

I Miss Me

In the dark night, I am amazed to see a light
At the hidden corner of the room.

A hidden corner in a dim room where
the only thing I see is me.

The light flickered, like a burning candle
ready to give up, the breeze forcing it to die.

I covered the flame with my hand,
I was amazed.

Twas the first time I saw my hands.
My own hands.

And I never let it go until
the wax it lived on boiled up to smoke.

My eyes tried to find the light.
Nothing was left.

So there I was.
In the middle of the dark room.
In the middle of hurt, and pain.
I was back to the place I have known so well.
The room of loneliness and sadness.

Here,in the quiet, I miss you.
But most of all...


I miss the light.


I miss me.