shrink to fit

i have watched a lot of movies. but so far, none has actually left that big mark on my skin. to date, only 2 films were successful enough to have left a microscopic mark on my thinking head that has already healed over time with the help of a balm.

then "the women" came.

my ate mashie uploaded it to my ipod 2 nights ago, and i just wiped the last tear away an hour after watching it. yes, it was that good and heart wrenching. it wasn't a sob movie at all. it was more like de javu popping like seeds in the microwave. i highy recommend it to my readers (i'm assuming i have more than 1 blog follower).

i'd be telling a little about the movie, so in case you haven't seen it, sorry to spoil your evening meteor shower :)

when a guy cheats on you, you'd either swear not to have anything to do with him again OR (this one's usually the case) you'd give him another chance and forgive him. until he does it again, and again and again (and again).

when does the hurting truly stop? most women would rethink their lives and change the way they dress, the way they treat their men, and the way they talk even! it's like men's evil design to conquer women's world in one freaking cheating minute, so they'd end up getting a shortlived slap on the wrist and yes, go home smiling. believe me, this ain't the worst yet.

it keeps on coming like a train en route far far away land. if you give him another chance, he'd think you a saint and pray he'd never make the same mistake again. but he does, and he does it over like you're a loaf on a shelf that needs heating before it can be served.

until you realize, you're not the same woman he met years ago. you've changed into something more monstrous than the girl he spent 5 minutes with over the extra mobile phone he kept under his sleeve just to say "wait up for me, i'm gonna call you as soon as i get out of here."

once in your life, a man comes. in style, he'd sweep you off your feet and in timid words, he'd cut your love story short by asking you how you feel about him. of course you'd say you love him back. and that's how bitter endings begin.

love is something you can't prepare yourself enough for. love is wanting the things your girfriends want for you: a happy life, a loyal atmosphere that may sometimes be filled with weariness, but then that's where he makes a great effort to replace apathy with rejoices and white roses. that's not enough, though. it is never enough.

i have been thought of as insane one december when cris lost it and made a big mistake, and i "forgave" him. i transformed into this haughty creature, even my niece didn't recognize me at first glance. but i changed back. i missed my old self. that's when cris fell in love with me all over again (not that i believed him that time when he said this). something's got to give.

i "missed" my old self. m-i-s-s-e-d meaning, not only that lingering feeling long after your bf's gone after spending hours at the mall strolling hand in hand--both of you flat broke. m-i-s-s-e-d meaning, using that "good" part of your time for self-love and self-improvement. i used mine a few minutes late, but the old saying (better late than never) doesn't work well with the way i chose to live my life. my stubborn nature allows me to procrastinate even when it comes to my love life.

cris may have been unfair to me at one point, but who hasn't? you'd be surprised at how forgiving a heart can get--it's mind-blowing. the one thing you actually have control over--one where you can decisively put heavy reigns on, is being fair to yourself. if "being fair to oneself 101" didn't appeal to many, why would garfield even bother to get a copy? but he did.

but don't go patronizing yourself for giving up who you used to be (before your guy cheated on you). instead, do a once-over and put your old shirts back on. then move forward and tell your man "i'm happy the way i am, so if you want another chance, don't make me crop the crown off on top of my head to fit the borders of your screen or make me take my shirt off and leave it in the dryer to shrink to your taste."

:)

are you happy just conforming?

wouldn't it be swell knowing that you have lived your life the way you're not supposed to?

i don't mean infusing the bad stuff like drugs and alcohol into your system. God knows my undergraduate heart churns at the slightest glimpse of dried leaves, yearning to be covered, with unconventional ease, by silver foil and brown paper...it's more like cheating on destiny or deliberately hiding from the truth that people around you had set out for you to just take in and digest.

perhaps, you were born to be a drummer, but went on and lived a quiet life in the woods or in a seminary in some far off province even forrest gump dared not to set foot on to rediscover his accidental heroism. or maybe you were born into a charming family of farmers, but pursued a career in hockey or bowling, without a trace of regret for having left a vast tract of idle land in your own backyard. ho-hum.

i bet you were at your happiest while fulfilling dreams that are not yours to begin with.

there's nothing wrong with doing things that are expected of you. most of the time, you end up being just like your father (or mother)--a surgeon or a lawyer--maybe. exploring the life you have so gotten used to--the kind of life you were exposed to not out of choice, but out of nature. it's true, what they say...the leaf does not fall far from the tree.

but in the process, you may lose your identity, and if you're lucky, you might inherit your father's debts too. it's like enduring a power outage with a half-frozen, half-kilo beef inside your freezer--you're not sure if it's going to last the long night without smelling odd and in time for spaghetti-bonding the next day with your mom and your siblings, but you're sure that if you don't have that special "bonding" day, you'd feel restless and barren. which brings me to my next few questions: does living the life you are destined to live get to a point where you self-expire? does it have a shelf life?

until when is conforming conformable? until you realize you're just another walking cliche?

well, you wouldn't know if you don't try it, right? :)

alas, we'd all end up conforming, and behind every fufilled dream, there would always be this one tugging question stuck in your throat you might want to expel...before you actually throw up without meaning to.

call me she-herc

most of the bloggers may have written about the year that ended or about the year that is just about to start. i am a blogger, but i want to be different.

i'd tell you about my 2 failures in profound words (not that i have written any anecdote in simple words, so far). yes, i took the long exam for two consecutive septembers. yes, i failed in both. yes, i took the test again, and yes, i still have the kind of expectations that can fill this page up in a jiffy. my heart is not made of stone. but my body is a big boulder--herculean even--that can endure the meanest tidal wave and come out unscathed. the fact alone that i can eat in a crowded restaurant by my lonesome is hard evidence of my imposing statement: i have lived through it all and i'm not taking any crap from anybody (except from my mom of course).

it wasn't easy. a close friend of mine once spent the whole day marveling at my inner poise. little did she know that it took a toll on my heart (literally). it skipped a few beats one morning, after i heard the bad news for the second time. but my grieving moment was as uneventful as the time i lost my first tooth. no one noticed. maybe because i still had 3 more to spare hanging like withered leaves and holding onto my gums for dear life. that's how i survived the first two storms that came into my life--hanging.

i never did expect empathy from loved ones. i just knew they'd be there for me...because they love me, and they took the first blow. nothing but unconditional love has saved me from all anxieties. it was more than enough to live by.

they say that the heart is incredibly resilient...its threshold for pain can match that of a woman undergoing labor. i agree. i'd probably be having twins and not feel a thing. no anesthetic has permeated my skin long enough to tell the story of how it has put my body to calming pleasure. i became a masochist.

but i'm no superwoman. i got my tough genes from my dad, this i cannot deny. my friends tell me my exterior does not complement my being sofspoken. haha! that could be used as a tool to deceive.

i have only God to thank for pulling me out of the dark. i have set my eyes on my ambition for a long time, i am not about to look away...for as long as i can write mean pleadings more credibly than a true-blue senior lawyer.

i believe i know my limits well enough to shirk away from over-confidence, and from overconfident fools who cannot tell fact from fiction. my stories are brave as the one who has lived to tell them. the path i have chosen may have been dodgy, and i have slipped many times...but the herculean effort to rise and pick myself up has been a great trade i will never mark for barter.

all told, it was a humbling experience. one that taught me how to choose my battles and win them all in God's time.