Three Days Ago (In poetic mode)

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I stole a glance and looked away.

I couldn’t watch.

I looked again and this time stared.

I froze.

You held her in your arms, not wanting to let her go.

Kissed her on the forehead and smiled at her.

She beamed at you, touched your face, your nose, your lips.

You kissed her fingertips and she smiled.

A tear rolled down my cheek

And I quickly wiped it away.

I couldn’t move—

I wanted to leave but I can’t.

You have always loved her—

And I have always waited.

Always waited.

Waited.

Hoped.

Wished that maybe some of that love would overflow for me.

Wished that you’d notice me.

Wished that each day it was more than just a glance, a smile that you give me.

Wished that I am the one in your arms, in your heart.

The one you dream of every night, the one you think of in your waking moments.

Wished I was the one.

But I am not.

I stole another glance.

You caught me.

You smiled and waved.

I waved back and turned.

I remembered this one song while Media Player is at random, the song “Three Days Ago” by Mario Winans. I have always loved its chorus: “Yesterday you said that we could get away/ day before I was alone like any other day/ three days ago I wrote this song for you/ will I ever get through/ to you.”

And I remembered someone.

I still can’t remember why I was crying last night. Maybe it was because of Bruce’s “This is what we have” line to Wendy (and when she opened her palm there was a pendant with the word “love” on it), or maybe it was because of the pain I saw in Wendy when Bruce finally left. It’s nice to see people fall in love, but it’s not nice seeing them go separate ways (not that Bruce won’t be coming back).

Or maybe because I felt the uncertainty, the fear when someone was leaving and you just don’t know why.

Yes, maybe I am still angry. Maybe I’m still bitter about it. About you and her. About everything. Why I was the one who has to say sorry when it was your fault all along—you were just too filled with pride, just like you always were, to admit you are at fault. I thought I had let go of all the anger I kept inside me for the past three years when I confessed to the priest about how angry I was at you, how much you’ve hurt me.

But some things just don’t go away.

It’s easy to forgive, but not forget.

I have always told my friends that it wasn’t the pain of finding out that it was she that you have loved all the while—it was the pain of the betrayal. The betrayal that you haven’t told me all along and you made me believe that I was the one you love. The betrayal that I was your best friend, and then I was the last one to find out about it. Your silly excuse? You thought I already knew.

Nice.

Or maybe I was just plainly stupid, don’t you think? Everyone is. Everyone is stupid when they fall in love, because every single shred of sanity flies out the window and you’re left with only your heart and the love you had to begin with.

Or maybe all I was looking for was the answers to all my questions—or maybe I don’t deserve any explanations.

The reason I haven’t trusted anyone for that matter after what happened, was because of you. I was scared to trust anyone because you betrayed me. You both betrayed me. And then what? Here I am, feeling happy for you guys. Maybe I’m really just a hard-on romantic that I couldn’t bear to turn away from you because I know that you really love her right now.

Yes. Do love her.

Love her at my own breaking heart’s expense.

Spark’s Fire

April 19, 2007 20:54

I think I could like you

I already do

Feelings can grow but

They can go away too

You're taking my hand

Looking into my eyes

Don’t be in a rush to

Get me tonight

Feel something happening

Could this be a spark?

To satisfy me baby

Gotta satisfy my heart

Do you know how to touch a girl?

If you want me so much

First I have to know

Are you thoughtful and kind?

Do you care what's on my mind?

Or am I just for show?

You’ll go far in this world

If you know how to touch a girl

Do you know how to touch, know how to touch a girl?

Do you know how to touch, know how to touch a girl?

I think I could like you

But I keep holding back

Coz I can't seem to tell

If you're fiction or fact

Show me you can laugh

Show me you can cry

Show me who you really are

Deep down inside

Do you feel something happening?

Could this be for real?

I don't know right now but tonight we'll reveal

Bring me some flowers

Conversation for hours

To see if we really connect

And baby if we do

Confusion.

April 19, 2007 19:08

I was there, alone at the corner of our high school. He came and told me we needed to talk, and I frowned, for I was sure as hell that ‘we’ don’t have anything to talk about. But I gave in. Just like I always do. I gave in.

He was, after all, at one point in time, one of the closest guys to me.

“I wanted to ask you this question for such a long time already,” he began. I couldn’t look at him, though—I was distracting myself with the manang who was selling French fries, squid balls and fish balls and kikiam, cheese sticks, and gulaman.

He cleared his throat as if to catch my attention. I didn’t look at him still, but I was listening—and he knew that. “Can I court you?” he asked in a soft voice.

Can I court you—it was different from ‘I will court you’ that he used on his ex-girlfriend who happens to be one of my closest friends. I actually was the bridge for them, and was one of the few people who pushed for their ‘love team.’

I stayed silent.

He wasn’t keen on waiting—he never was. He likes to do his own thing, and not wait. One thing I have always liked about him was that he values his time, but sometimes it irritates me as well.

“Hey,” he said, nudging me a bit. I turned to him and then said, “No.”

You should have seen the look on his face. It was as if the earth had fallen on him. Or he was told that his allowance had been cut off and he’s grounded for five whole years. Or he was told that he wouldn’t graduate along with our batch.

And you know that my weakness is that I don’t want people getting hurt because of me, so I relented yet again.

“Okay. You may court me. But… I wouldn’t want people to know. Your ex is one of my dear pals, and I don’t want you to come in between us. I’m just letting you court me because you gave me that frigging look that you know would work on me.”

The sympathetic look was replaced with a wide smile. “Yes! Thank you,” he said, and he was about to hug me when I stepped away.

“Courtship mode, mister,” I reminded him. “We’re not pals here.”

He laughed, and then ran off.

To where exactly, I didn’t know.

Until you came.

–

I was there at the stairs in front of the lobby, watching some of the grade school kids play patintero and habulan, and some of the sophomores and juniors at the basketball court strutting their own stuff. Surprisingly, I wasn’t with anyone—and you knew that, didn’t you?

You came and talked to me.

I was surprised you actually had gathered the courage to talk to me—we are close, yes, but it was our big secret. You are a campus heartthrob after all, a perfect gentleman, the man in every girl’s dream. I have always liked you and you have always known that, but I was a geek and heartthrobs don’t fall for geeks.

I never stopped liking you since I first laid my eyes on you, and you knew that, and but you don’t know one thing: I probably never will stop.

“Hey.”

I need not turn to see who it was—I know your voice, know your smell, and my body seems to know your presence.

“Hey,” I said, still not looking at you.

You tugged at my uniform, and I faced you. You smiled—but it wasn’t the smile that I have always loved. It wasn’t the smile that reached your eyes.

“We’re in public,” I said, and you grinned this time. “I don’t really care. Screw them,” you said, and I smiled.

You were just confident because we only have a few weeks to spare in this crappy school. A few weeks’ worth of gossip before graduation won’t hurt, huh?

I stayed silent.

“I heard that he’s courting you,” I heard you say.

“Boy, news travels THAT fast, huh?” I replied instead. “You had just confirmed what I asked,” you said.

All right. You know me that well.

“What did he tell you guys?” I asked after a while. I know the news would reach you somehow. You and he are in the same barkada after all. Besides, nothing goes on within our batch without your barkada knowing about it—and sometimes with your barkada’s consent.

“He said that he’s going to court you. He asked you, but then you stayed quiet. He said he’d still continue anyway,” you explained, and I smirked.

“That wasn’t what really happened, huh?” you said, and I nodded. No point lying. I never could lie to you.

“I refused at first, but then gave in.”

“Typical you.”

I merely nodded at your snide remark, and then went back to watching the other students.

You made me face you again. You saw the irritation on my face, for you knew I don’t get the whole point why you’re going all kuya mode on me. Or even jealous boyfriend mode on me.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I felt chills run up my spine when you said that.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, so you better take care,” you repeated. I strained my ears, processed what you said, but still didn’t speak.

No questions asked.

You stood up and left.

Just what you meant by that, I never knew.

I never knew for one because I woke up from the dream already.

It was only a dream, and yet it made something in me stir.

The sleeping emotions inside me woke up, and I only had a lousy dream to blame.

I wish I could see you again.

I wish I could bring back the old times—when you tell your stories and I listen, and when I tell you my problems and you listen.

I wish you’d simply just get here and be by my side, get to know the new me and I’d get to know the new you. How long was it, huh?

Three, maybe, four years?

I never stopped liking you.

And I probably never will.

Your best enemy is yourself.

April 18, 2007 22:25

While having lunch this afternoon with Rej, we talked about the upcoming UAAP season. And then we got around to talking about the finals of the season 69 men’s basketball. I was for Ateneo, and she was for UST—underdogs, she says.

And then she said something about the Ateneo Blue Eagles not able to beat themselves. Hindi nila natalo ang sarili nila, kasi kalaban nila talaga nun ang mga sarili nila.

And up to now, honestly and obviously, I am bothered by it. Did the Blue Eagles lose to themselves?

Rewind.

Everyone actually thought Ateneo would go unbeaten after the elimination round. I couldn’t really remember who was the first one to beat them—I think it was UE—and boy I am so sure that it was UST who gave them the second loss. I distinctly remember that because I always loved Chris Tiu and he was the one who worked that game out, only to falter in the end. (Or did I get it reversed?)

I was rooting for Ateneo—but not during UP-Ateneo games, because I am effing sure I’d be on the UP side that time around—during the Finals, and was even on the verge of giving in to nervousness and uneasiness when I found out they were going to meet with the Adamson Falcons during the semis. Adamson was a tough assignment for them—they won by a margin below three points in their past two games in the elims. And then the semis.

Grr.

I couldn’t remember who saved the day for them—it was JC, I think—but there they were, in the place everyone expected them to be: the Finals.

They won Game One by being lucky. I guess around that time they already got complacent because they were going up against the fourth-seed team who just dumped the second-seed UE back in the semis. Although admittedly I cursed Allan Evangelista (I wish I got his name right this time) when he raised his arms as if saying “glorify me because I (think I) just scored the winning basket,” and that was just so mayabang, and that there was really a lapse defensively in UST’s side, Ateneo could have lost that game.

When UST won Game Two, I started doubting it.

Yes. I doubted the team I am so amused with and smitten with.

Heading into Game Three (and absenting myself from my last class around that time to watch the game), I somehow had the feeling that… they would lose. I have a weird, weird way of feeling it if my team would win or lose, but sometimes it’s overridden by my emotions that it’s not trustworthy. When I saw JC Intal missing the crucial shots, and I hated Macky for not taking the shots since he was the one who was hot in that game, I knew it was over.

(Loved Japs Cuan though. Ever saw a pointguard who misses a lot of free throws and mid-range shots? Forgivable naman siya. He’s cute. And a good pointguard at that.)

I cried over the PDI article done about Macky and JC. Macky said he told Coach Norman Black that he would give the ball to JC because they wouldn’t reach the Finals if it weren’t for him. Aptly so, but… practicality-wise, I think you should just let the game be because you need to win it. It’s the championship we’re taking about, not a… not a… elimination game.

I cried so hard when Ateneo lost that game. I couldn’t forgive UST, for I think they took something that Ateneo aptly deserve.

But maybe I was wrong.

Your best enemy is yourself.

I still couldn’t grasp the main idea, but I think they were just really… complacent and thought they could do UST in two games. But they didn’t.

They didn’t, and they lost.

I hope they could redeem themselves this time—but losing almost everyone on their starting lineup? (JC, Macky and Doug—hey, they’re four, right? Forgot the other one. Chris Tiu’s staying, so there’s at least one starter left.)

And then La Salle’s coming back.

Grr.

Am doing another entry on that—season 70 updates, I mean.

If anyone from the Ateneo lineup reads this, enlighten me please. Did you really just give in to yourselves?

In Deep Profoundness (Department of Redundancy Department)

April 18, 2007 22:10

You’re in UP because you can think and speak for yourself by your own wits and on your own two feet. And you can do so, no matter what the rest of the people in the room may be thinking. You are in UP because no one can tell you to shut up if you have something sensible and vital to say. You are in UP because you dread not in the poverty of material comforts but the poverty of the mind. You are in UP because you care about something abstract and sometimes as treacherous as the idea of “nation” even if it kills you. –Dr. Jose Dalisay, Jr.

I was one of the very few iskolar ng bayan—or maybe let’s generalize it and say ‘college students’—who have a weird sense of what if I didn’t go to the university I am actually in. It’s not that I regret that I chose UP over Ateneo or UST—it’s just because… not one semester had passed ever since I got here that I got a ‘perfect’ semester to say the least.

What do I mean?

For one, I already incurred two INCs for the past four regular semesters I am here in UP, and then my name magically disappeared from the official class list of my first ever 1.0-grade class. And then just last semester, out of sheer carelessness and tension for the Cres101 grades haven’t come out yet and the agony of a five-hour wait for those grades, I wrote Comm140 instead of Comm141 in my Form5 and had to redo the process all over again to correct my fugly mistake.

It’s really just so… irritating.

And then just this semester, my professor in Comm141 is taking a bit longer to release our grades. To think she was already way past the deadline. I’m just so freaking tired of seeing that blank space next to the Comm141 subject, and then the INC next to my Art Studies1 (which I am taking forever to complete, by the way).

I want a car. (And I just blurted this out.)

Last sembreak, I came across the booklet that they give to those students who took entrance exams at Ateneo. I browsed through it, slept with that booklet covering my face, and it was the first thing I read as soon as I woke up. Sorry to say, but I was thinking how was my life if I went to Ateneo. Maybe we’re even more broke—oh yeah, care to remind me?—and maybe I need to update myself to their standards. (Excuse me to Atenians. I’m making it clear here that I don’t have anything against you guys.)

I’m here on the verge of my what ifs. Not good, don’t you think? Wallowing in the what-could-have-been instead of enjoying what I have now. Hell, the tuition fee of other private schools in one semester could very well fund my education for two degrees or maybe even three—four even?

And then I have always wondered if I went to Holy Spirit instead of Tarlac Montessori, but then again… I wouldn’t have met my fantabulous batchmates if not for that. Come to think of it, maybe I wouldn’t have been too bitter in my freshman year in college because of a dude back in high school if I went into an all-girls school, don’t you think?

Argh.

I can’t just move on and get over this because I need frigging closure.

pain.

aerodance workout is now kicking in.

i have always wondered since the start of the summer semester why i didn't take basketball for women instead.

oh right. a friend told me it's too stressful to begin with, that it should be taken up during regular semesters to prevent breakdowns.

haha.

am kidding.

anyway, the pain in my 'abs' is now kicking in, and i'm expecting some more in my arms and legs from all those squats and biceps and triceps exercise my prof asked us to do. 

also the darn crunches.

well, before i break down and cry because i couldn't move, i'd say my goodbye.

hehe.

p.s.

did the craziest thing and emailed joseph yeo.  call me nuts.

webpage illiterate

pardon me for my super gulo blog.

have yet to appreciate all the website thingies and do my site justice. 

Just where is this all going?

April 17, 2007 0750

Just because I am really all over the place these past few days, I still haven’t got a real clear idea if Harbour Centre-RP won the tournament they competed in and still qualified for something else that confuses me right now.

(Funny kasi, dalawa ang National Team natin when it comes to basketball. Raar.)

And it’s not that I have anything against imports—they actually make a conference a bit more exciting with their slam dunks and somehow cute faces—but when it comes to the RP team, I reckon they should cut down on imports.

Why?

For one, if you do have imports on your team, how exactly could you really ‘own’ the victory when you know that almost one-third of the team’s score is scored by the import—or imports for that matter?

Besides, imports demand higher pay—and maybe even higher bonuses. (Read Beth Celis article on Nwosu ‘asking’ Harbour Centre owner Mikee Romero a Rolex watch and a replacement for his iPod.) Also, I think imports take away the time that the players would give on the team.

Where I am I heading?

Nothing. Just an early morning basketball binge because from what I heard, the RP team—the pro ones—will be in the Philippines this Sunday.

Yey!

Wish I could be there to watch the damn All-Star games in Baguio. Grr. My tita told me she’d take me to ‘backstage’ (Okay, technically, it’s the dugout.) to meet the players, but my darn summer classes prohibits me of doing so.

Wait a sec.

May 1 is Labor Day, so it gives that it’s a holiday, right? Hmm. More likely than not, our dear ol’ president would make it a long weekend, so… most probably April 30 is a holiday.

I could go to Baguio with that kind of schedule!

Oh golly.

I’m excited. 

Missed this. Missed that.

April 16, 2007 22:57

I missed my first ever Pinoy Big Brother episode since Robert entered the house. For something that I’ve watched real religiously (exceptions when PBB clashes with PBA games and I have to channel-switch every so often) for the past month, I feel a bit hollow—more like what I do feel when I miss games of Coke or Ginebra or Phoenix Suns or just basketball games in general.

I also got real DAMN pissed off when I found out that our house help threw away ALL the letters in my stash-away cabinet. Those are the letters from way back in high school, and also some stuff that Jam—my used-to-be best friend who now goes to the Philippine Military Academy a.k.a. PMA—gave to me (i.e. empty wrappers of Jollibee Yumburger and regular fries, empty Jollibee plastic cup, empty Oreo wrappers that he used to give me every single day) and those letters from the fourth year high school retreat. She threw away the sash I got for being the Ms. Liberty in my prom back in third year—and even threw away the bouquet and corsage that I painstakingly preserved.

She threw away just about everything, only leaving behind the notebook that where I placed some of the stuff in, and also a boxful of school paper pictures that I am not even part of it.

And just… you know, I don’t have ANY sane and real picture of me from high school. I can’t find my prom pictures. My mom didn’t get my grad pics. I wasn’t really a fan of cameras and photo ops—I was usually the one taking the picture—back then because I only got my braces back in my junior year in high school and I’ve got three sungki back then. Hard to smile. Missed them lot. Now the only bit of memory that I keep to just prove I existed in high school all gone to the damn dumpsite near God-only-knows-where.

Sentimental value.

I keep PBA and UAAP tickets just because (not that I watch a lot of live games). I keep candy wrappers from people special to me or I care for. I tend to keep articles on and about basketball (each league) and baseball each chance I get (see under my bed) and maybe even anything about sports. I keep stuff what people might just throw away.

And those letters—aside from being a proof of my existence—are things that I kept for the past four to six years of my life because they meant something. And not seeing them right before they were thrown away by a person who doesn’t even know the value of those “papers” or “kalat” hurts a lot.

And the frigging HOT weather is not helping!

Crap.