Say Good Night 2004

My last post of this year. And what a year it was both in the world in general and my own world. Lots of changes and personal triumphs. And yes my share of tragedies as well.

But what comes to mind for 2004 is the major benchmarks in my life- completing all of the miles on AIDS/ LifeCycle 3, running my best marathon time despite the fall I had 6 weeks before the marathon, getting a better job with some benefits, making new and wonderful friendships, sending out 8 law school applications.

Some great books I have read this year: Both books by Lance Armstrong, It's Not About The Bike and Every Second Counts. My epiphany novel came in the form of two books by Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez The Dirty Girls Social Club and Playing With Boys. Senator and Vice Presidential Candidate John Edwards' Four Trials was also a great read.

I realized I wasn't ready for having a dog or children when I dog sat one weekend.

I rediscovered yoga in a new form, Bikram yoga and shed 15 lbs. I ate a lot better. I discovered that beets are great, chard is yummy in eggs, and Brussel sprouts I have yet to master and wonder how to eat.

I found myself wondering if I am behind on a personal timeline that is artifically constructed and realized that hey, maybe I'm were I am right now.

I saw triumph in the human spirit in Lance Armstrong winning his 6th Tour de France and the Boston Red Sox winning the world series after some curse. I saw tragedy in losing my grandfather, Lolo Silecio and my favorite great uncle, Lolo Polon. I grappeled and still do struggle with the loss of my relationship with Joe and wonder where things will land next. I said goodbye to a friend who went back to Thailand whom now I wonder if he is alive despite a tsunami that hit in mass proportions.

I saw anger and backlash in my own dealings with Joe, why the nation re-elected President Bush for another four more years, how those against a woman's right to choose and same sex marriage can be so ruthless.

I chugged through my own demons and battles- trying to get over my own demon of AIDS/ LifeCycle 2 and the New York Marathon, two events in my life that were all time lows. I saw the beauty in the Midwest in Chicago despite the fact that I was grappling with issues with its native son (Joe). I said hello to old friends in Washington, DC, the place where it was my turning point in my life. I casted my net out there to see where I end up going to law school.

In short, 2004 ended up being a good year. And tonight I am going to make a toast to that. Last New Year's Eve was a rather bad one that ended on a good note. Maybe the good just gets better.

Welcome 2005!

Where Did The Year Go?

I wonder where 2004 went. Honestly, I think it flew in many different ways. All of them for the better- a better LSAT score, finally sending off the law school applications, switching jobs and getting benefits, shedding 15 unwanted pounds, eating healthier, running a faster marathon, completing all of the miles on AIDS/ LifeCycle, meeting new friends in Shelly and Alan and others, getting my politcal activism groove back by organizing and participating in the March For Women's Lives, moving to a bigger room, and getting things all straightened out.

It seems like 2005 is up for a lot of good things already. I mean the trip to the Philippines and finding out where I'm going to law school is just some of the good stuff. It seems like there is a lot more to come and I'm optimistic.

I'm hoping to find a way to finally forgive myself for what I did to Joe awhile back. Maybe that's the key to finally putting this to a close. Maybe it might mean new things for the two of us. Who knows?

Also, I'm going to kick up speedwork just a little bit. Make myself really work. I do welcome the challenge. Come to think of it, maybe I can do a Boston qualifying time.

Well, whatever comes. I just hope and pray that the good fortune I am blessed with will come in many forms.

Passport

I got my passport yesterday and today, went out to get a new passport photo and turn in the old passport to renew it. The last time I got my passport done was during my 4th year in college. I try to remember what was happening at that time. I was juggling my double major, dealing with shit with the guy I was dating and well, wondering if I really wanted to go to med school. Little did I know was that there was a part of me that was yet to develop.

I took my photo today at Walgreens. I had to take it twice. The first take made me look I was tired and dazed. I was a little hesitant in smiling too big because I didn't want to show my bottom crooked teeth and showing that my front teeth would be off because the fact that the three front teeth aren't my own due to the bike accident a few years back. The second one, I made myself really smile and it shows. It was a Julia Robert-esque smile with a lot of glee and grace. My hair was in it's natural gelled up, somewhat layers are growing out. My other photo is more of a stylized, controlled one. The recent one is my funky side.

Now this starts the process towards my journey to the motherland.

***

Most of the day after running to Walgreens and dropping off the passport at the post office to send over to the State Department to get it renewed, I just went home, ate some leftover pasta and a lot of the peanut butter blossom cookies I made and napped. Well, I surfed online for a bit and napped. My intention was to get up later and do my laps around the track but I ended up sleeping for a good few hours, mostly to get rid of the cold symptoms I had earlier yesterday. I'll just go run my laps tommorrow.

I have been talking with a number of friends about my upcoming trip. I'm slowly reading the Lonely Planet guide just to get a sense of where I want to go. The thrills of snorkeling and mountain biking sound rather tempting although I'm a little sketchy on moutain biking mostly because I have known people who have broken bones doing this sort of activity. And I'm not sure if I will be outfitted with a nice Gary Fisher mountain bike out there but who cares. Maybe I should just bring my helment just in case (ha ha!).

But seriously, the mostly Americana Filipina like me goes back to the motherland...a lot of questions literally flood my head and make it swim, almost as bad as when I was applying to law school. What to wear. How to behave. Do you leave the AIDS/ LifeCycle wristband and shirt at home? Do you seek out the gay clubs and bars? Do you do the tourist part or the anthropolgical scholar? Do you give yourself slack for a few weeks during marathon training?

All of a sudden, my life exposed. Yikes.

My Prayer

Something a friend passed onto me to help me through this time and my journey-

May today there be peace within. May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that areborn of faith. May you use those gifts that you havereceived,and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content knowing you are a child of God. Let this presence settle into our bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of you.

And may you give yourself a gift of strength, love,forgiveness, and most importantly, a chance.

First of all, Merry Christmas to all. Or Happy Haunakah or Happy Kwanza or Happy Solstice. I just wish I knew the Spanish and Tagalog equivalents to the other holidays celebrated at this time of year.

Enough of that. Now for what has happened Christmas 2004.

The season kicked off for me starting the holiday retail season in my new job at the Gap flagship store in the Flood Building. A lot of work and stress but somehow I got myself through it. With the help of a lot of running. Seriously. I'm in the third week of a new workout where I would increase my speed and become a faster runner.

Speaking of being a faster runner, I ended up getting the tools for it. My new runner's watch/ heartrate monitor/ distance monitor from Nike and a pair of new Saucony shoes. The sales folks at On The Run in the Inner Sunset put in some inserts that helped me adjust to my new shoes since I'm going for a slightly lighter weight model than the ones I have had for the past few years. I'm really serious about getting a PR for my next marathon, the San Francisco Marathon. Shoot, maybe even go for a Boston time (one can only set the bar so high).

If I had something to describe this holiday season it's guilt. Lots and lots of it. I know that last year I was plagued with it since the breakup with Joe was so fresh and raw. But all this year, I've tried so much to get past it, to get rid of it- setting new goals, distractions, trying to find guys to replace him (how many ads on craigslist did I put up this time?), distance, anger, hatred, therapy. Yet the guilt is still there, not going away. I still cry in my sleep every night. I still wish he was around. I still hold onto my memories of him like a lifeline, an umbilical chord to something that I want and crave but feel like I could never have because of all the sins I have done.

What sins you may ask? It's all the guilt- the guilt of cheating on him, the guilt of kissing James, the guilt of wanting James to go down on me and to fuck me, the guilt of being with another man while dating another, the guilt of hurting Joe where I saw the raw pain and hurt in his eyes when we broke up, the pain of not trying hard enough and not being willing when Joe wanted to be friends and I didn't, the guilt of letting my anger show through in my voice and in my actions, the guilt of whipping Joe not physically but verbally with my voice raised and curse words in Tagalog and Ilocano lashing at him, the guilt of wanting to hear his voice and calling his voice mail at work late at night at times so that I can still remember the slight Chicago drawl, the futileness of my actions where I would leave voice messages to let him know that I was still there for him even though all my efforts were just like talking to a black hole that never replied. All this washes down on me, flooding me, drowning me, eating me up over and over again like it was a Chinese wedding banquet 10 course meal, a phirana eating my soul, my heart and love to the point where I find efforts to forgive myself and to move seem futile. It's as if I am bound and gagged in my own prison of guilt and shame knowing that I hurt a man, that I took away his trust in me, something that is so fleeting and something that I feel that not even God can cure and take away.

For the first time in my life, I have not gone to Mass that often. I have ceased this practice altogether now. Mainly because of all the guilt I carry more than all the Louis Vitton bags in the world can hold. I know God loves all his children no matter what sins they have committed. I've come to the point where I don't even care where things go with my relationship with Joe. Like my friend Alan told me, it's not that I've close the chapter in my life with my relationship with Joe. It's more of me closing the book and throwing the whole thing into the water. I have just about given up and decided to just live with the guilt and the pain, to stay in this prison of mine, my own personal death row, no chance of parole, no chance of a pardon or a reprieve in the form of a loving partner and a family to call my own.

I figured that this guilt is like an acquired taste like kimchee or bagoong. But honestly it's not. I'm tired of the mornings where I wake up and my eyes are puffy with tears and I feel the exhaustion not from the days work but from beating myself up for what I did to Joe. I hate the fact that I distance myself from so many others who want to know me and have my friendship. I am careful, cautions. Maybe guilt is something you just get used to.

No it isn't. It's just a prison for your heart and your soul.

There are so many times that I want to write to Joe to let him know how I feel, all the guilt, pain and other stuff, raw, uneditied, unabridged. Yet I can't put the pen to paper and let the words flow. I easily give up and just fling the paper away, thinking that my words and my efforts are futile.

I don't want to guilt him or anything. I just wish he knew how much I love him and care for him. How I wish I can share my life with him once again and he can share his with mine. How I want more happy memories. How I wish to hear him say "pop" with that Chicago drawl. How much I miss him. What I have learned from all this. What I wish to come out with. How even the littlest things make me think of him. I don't want to sound desparate. Sometimes I feel like it's some sort of Hail Mary that I write this letter to him. I did that with Paul and I felt that it was too late. He had found Hina by then.

I feel like that's what is going to happen again.

Then again, I did not hurt Paul the way that I hurt Joe.

Alan brought up to me a good point today. The gift that I really should give to myself isn't the new pair of running shoes or the runner's watch. It's not wanting Joe under the tree.

It's the gift of forgiving myself from all the trespasses I have committed against Joe and other people I love so much.

Life is such an unknown. Things are fleeting. Nothing is certain. Only birth, taxes and death are.

There are wounds. But wounds heal. True they may leave scars but these are markers of growth.

For the longest time, for more than I year, I wonder if there is ever a way to get out of this self imposed prison, to truly bury the guilt and shed the pain that eats away at me like a gluttonous pig.

For the longest time, I thought that there is no way out.

Perhaps there is.

And it's up to me and my own will and voltion to find it.

My resolution for 2005: to truly free myself from this prison that I have put myself in since November 25, 2003, the day that I broke Joe's heart where I can fully forgive myself of this crime.

The present that Alan gave me- the start to the way out of that prison. A paper that said the words, "Dear Joe,"

Now fill in the blanks.

Little Gifts

Today seemed to be the day to be showered with presents. It all started off with getting a nice chunk of change from my folks and my brother. That all went into a new watch that measured distance and heart rate and a new pair of running shoes I got from On The Run, this one running store in the Inner Sunset (if you happen to be a beginning runner, I suggest you go there so that you can be fitted properly for shoes). I got the package of specialized Gatorade powder that I would usually get (I had it shipped to work). I got the AIDS/ LifeCycle calendar that a few cycling friends have put together. And to top it off, a drink with a friend from work.

For such a holiday season that started off on a blue note, it happens to pan out ok. I have stuff to do on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I still wish for Joe back. I wish I could explain it to my friends but I can't because all it does is just bring a lot of tears to my eyes and a heavy feeling in my heart.

I thought of this as I was running this morning. Maybe Joe and I had to be totally out of each other's lives to probably start anew again. But sometimes I wonder will I get that chance again with Joe or any other man.

I just want to be loved. This drive, goal oriented, hard working, somewhat demanding, high expectation setting, athletic, open minded, first generation Filipina American woman just wants someone to love her. Someone where she doesn't have to play some sort of role or live up to some expectation or have to find a bar to clear each time to gain love and affection. Someone to love her whether she is at her runner/ cyclist body best or a nice soft lump. Is that too much to ask?

Lately I've been using this blog as my personal space to vent. Unlike most people whose blogs I read, I don't advertise my blog. It's more of my way to vent out a lot of the feelings and guilt that are still around after my breakup with Joe. I still find myself taking a lot of the blame and responsibility for our breakup. It's not as much and as heavy as it was around this time last year. It was really awkard to be around him. I think he felt the same too. It just felt so heavy, so cumbersome. Maybe it was best that we really took the time to really distance ourselves from each other. It has been awhile since I called him, awhile since I would call his work voicemail late at night just to hear his voice. I'm more worried that maybe we may not get back together, like both of us just drifting out of orbit from each other's worlds.

I've been trying to push myself to do other things and carry on. It took me a few tries before making a real effort to start my speedwork program. Now it's in full force. Last week was the first time I actually completed it, track workout and all. I was pretty tired and pretty proud of myself. And for that time when I'm either running or cycling, I can put this pain and misery out of my system. I'm trying to do most of my workouts in the morning so that I can get that dose of sunshine. For awhile, I wanted to stay out of the sunshine because it stung so much. I didn't want that dose of cheer in light of me missing Joe.

Funny how the holidays are almost over. This Saturday is Christmas Day. At least I have something to do on Christmas which I am pretty happy about. Midnight Mass at Grace Catherdal with Alan. Other than that, I'm just going to lay low. Maybe because I'm not into celebrating this year. I figured that either Joe is already in Chicago or on his way there soon. I also figured he would have scored some tickets to Cal playing in the Holiday Bowl. Secretly I wanted Cal to go to the Rose Bowl and maybe I would see the Rose Parade live with Joe in tow.

I honestly wish that I could have faith in fate as Alan told me on Friday when he stopped by to chat and have some tea. How can you have faith in something that you can't really see or grasp? Then again, people place their trust and faith in a higher power that things will be OK. Maybe Joe and I not getting together is part of a "higher plan". Shoot, sometimes I wish I could take a peek at that higher plan and wonder where things do turn out. Then again, the surprise might dissapate.

The song I'm listening to by Faith Evans right now describes how I feel. Lately not feeling not up to doing anything, laughing, or being cheerful. I just feel sad. I put up a front that I am OK. But deep down inside, I miss Joe. I cry. A lot. I still do even though not much these days. Still to this day, the pain of losing Joe is as raw as road rash. I'm desperately trying to find someone like him, some replacement. But my efforts are futile. And I get frustrated and really sad. I get angry. I want Joe back in my life to make it right once again. It seems like I've lost my sense of direction and purpose, like a fallen star. It seems like all is jumbled up like seasons skipping sequence or things out of order.

Just the other day on one of my runs through the neighborhood, I swore I saw someone that looked like him. I wanted to call out his name but I found voice caught in my throat, my vocal cords constricted from the heavy breathing from the loop that I ran through. Sometimes I would peek really hard at some places, just to see if he is there- shopping, munching on a burrito, etc. It seemed like everything we went through was just like it happened so yesterday. So raw, so true, so real. To the point where I am drowning in a flood of tears. If I close my eyes, I can see how brown his complexion was, the spikiness of his dark brown hair, hear the midwestern ease in his voice and intonations, feel the strength of his arms holding me tight and the strong beat of his heart. At night before I go to sleep, I pray that he would come back, that I would find that once again with him. I don't want to live my life just settling for someone else and deep down inside, wishing for him, wishing for me to be her, someone to love for as long as he can, hopefully for the rest of his life.

Arrested Development

I've actually been playing around and thinking about what to write in this particular entry. Especially this comes in light of reading a blog of a college acquaintance and what he's up to these days. Some of the things that he does suprise me (like take up smoking) while others I find somewhat predictable (like hanging out with the same people he hung out with in college which includes my roommate from freshman year who happened to be his ex-girlfriend who is now happily married to someone else). Like me, he is the only sole and single person in his cohort of friends. Then again, depending on which cohort you lump me with, I'm either one of many or one of few that are still single.

I somewhat chose this title because to me, if you stay in the same place in a long time, you don't really grow that much. For me, a routine gets so old so fast (depending on the amount of time of a particular task or project that it takes to get used to). I'm always a person of challenge and wanting a little of that competitive spirit for myself. However, I do like the closeness of friends and there are very few people that I am very close to. I'm not sure if it's because my interests and my addresses change every so often but there seems to be at least one friend from a period of my life that I keep in close contact with- childhood (Amy), high school (Rachel), college (Alain), DC years (Cin and Alex), LifeCycle (Nick, Jeanne, Shelley, Alan and others).

But it always makes me wonder why some people would keep the same clique of friends for so long and just stay in the same place. Like this acquaintance who is pretty much a Carrie Bradshaw-ish person not in the sense that he has fashion sense but in the sense that he's always typing in his blog even though his entries don't make weekly columns, he's the single person, the one who is looking for family and love while his friends go through engagements and marriages. On the other hand, my friends are partnering and looking at adoption options. But yes there are my friends who poo-hoo at the institution of marriage and just want to work on themselves and their careers.

I wonder if you really do grow by staying in the same place for such a long time. At this point, I'm looking for change but in an odd way, going back to somewhat familiar places. Take where I applied to law school for example. I either went for schools in the Bay Area or the East Coast. Nothing in the South or Midwest or even Southern Cal. I'm wanting to go towards the familiar yet not towards something that dominated a part of my life. 23 years of living in Southern California is quite enough for this one person. Maybe that's why another college acquaintance doesn't want to go back to her Central Valley roots and prefers to stay in Southern California with her college sweetheart for the last 10 or so years. I don't blame her- I wouldn't want to go back to Fresno either. But according to one of my hairstylists who is an Inland Empire gal like me, at least Fresno has a punk rock music scene. The Inland Empire has meth labs in either the last of the standing orange groves or in suburban tracks where the orange groves used to stand (I know that is very tongue in cheek of me).

But at times, you wonder if these people you are friends with grow with you to a certain point. Perhaps they do. Some you drop because all of a sudden, you hit some point where, well, they just see you as different. I think most of the people I hung out with in college if they were to see me now would either think I'm a) too jocky with all my running and cycling energy or b) too liberal. Most of these people I grew up with in Southern California are more of the type of people who are like Rudy Guliani rather than George Bush- social liberal Republican. I might tend to think that way but in no way would I want to be associated with a party that has its ugly right winged, Bible thumping cronies that make up good part of their party and take the reins.

Maybe it's all in the matter of smart growth- where you perhaps find a place you call home and find the people and the activites and the causes that help you grow as a person instead of arrest your development. Or then again, maybe there are some people that just settle.

And for me, I don't settle for anything. I may settle but with the best stuff.

Family and the Mother Country

Christmas is totally gearing up. The shops were crowded (including mine) today. I snuck out during lunch to get some tea which really helped but having a good meal at home was nice too. Tuna melt on whole grain bread with baby spinach and dill and red onion and three kinds of cheese (goat, cheddar and mozzerella). Mmmmm...

As I was prepping my sandwhich, I was putting away some things in the recycling bin. I spotted a Haunakkah greeting card tossed in with the junk mail and empty bottles. I took a peek inside and it was a funny, thoughtful card that Sacha's dad sent to him. Now Sacha and his father aren't on really great terms. I'm not on great terms with my family (it is somewhat getting better...bit by bit) but I wouldn't toss a card they sent with the rubbish. Harsh letters and clippings that would make me roll by eyes but not cards.

Ma told me that her, Pop and Ed are thinking of a trek to the Philippines this spring and asked me if I am interested. At first, I hesitated. There's that part of me that wants to go to the Philippines but explore it on my own. But then again, how often do you get to travel with your family nowdays, especially as they are getting older. I might or might not get the time off and if I do, there is a chance that I won't get it all paid time off. However, I know that this is a rare chance to be with my family and who knows when was the last time we all traveled together. I'm sure that the folks at work will totally understand.

The Good Pinoy Boy

Back at Banana Republic, from my little perch in the cashroom, I would look at the real cute Filipino boys like John and Paolo flit in and out, getting their LRT guns and other things to re-ticket items and I would think and sigh. Now those two embody what I want in terms of looks- tall (has to clear 5'7" at least), dark (from the shade of crust of freshy baked sourdough bread to a jar of honey from the Farmer's Market to a cup of English breakfast tea with a bit of milk), and handsome (now this is arbitrary...there is no right or wrong ratio of Malay, Spanish, Chinese and numerous other genes that compose the Pilipino people). I want them to be jocky, particiapte in some type of sport or go to the gym. No soft couch potatoes here. They can either do something that I like to do- run, swim, cycle...but not yoga class (that's my ME time there)- or do a sport that we can try together like tennis or snowboarding. Of course he's entitled to the sport where he can do it by himself or with the guys like the occasional tackle football game or hoops in the park.

Now in terms of intellegence, college educated is nice but a good mix of book smarts and common street smarts is great. Please do not get all snotty academia on me. And don't be disintersted and dumb either. I want someone with opinions and ideas they can defend, although they may be different than mine. Different is good.

Now guys that have had to roll their sleeves and go into hard labor such as the service industry, retail, construction...I like that in a person. At least it brings them down to earth and understands those that do these jobs for a living. Especially coming from me who plans on serving those communites as a future attorney.

A good thick head of dark brown almost jet black hair. Coarse as a Brillo pad. Done up with gel although I am a sucker for guys that use pomade. If you even go back to the old school Tres Flores pomade your dad did when he was younger, that makes me swoon and smile. I like it nice and short. Not too long. No military crew cuts/ flat tops. That is so 1980s (flat tops that is) and I'm not the type of gal to swoon over war hawkish men in uniform. Especially this liberal gal here.

Now if he can rap a line from Jay-Z, serenade me with a Luther Vandrose song, sing a few bars from Coldplay and/ or even share me his favorite Frank Sinatra song, that will so make me smile.

If he can choose a good bottle of wine, know a five star restaurant and can make some creative dinner from a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese, you got me.

Now, he doesn't have to know Tagalog. However, if he wants to learn and is totally trying, that so wins points. (Now this is for the Americanized Pinoys out there)

If he is open minded where he doesn't squirm when he hangs out with my gay guy friends or breaks out in hives if we hang out in the Castro...if he is secure in himself and his sexuality where my achievements, ambitious as they may, does not scare the shit out of him and make him feel like he has to be dominatant and lets me be and do what I need to do and support me in my efforts (as to quote someone's Friendster profile, he doesn't have to hold my hand as I march down the street in a cause I believe in but to hug me in the end or when times get rough)...big assed bonus.

Liberal socially progressive is a big plus. Someone traditional and consservative would make me break out in hives.

Doesn't necessarily have to spoil me with romatic gifts but if they are simple and thoughtful, that is fine. I'm very practical.

Has to have hobbies and a great sense of humor. I love goofy and silly. Has to have his own life too. I don't baby sit. Nor do I have time to.

And if he is good in bed where I end up barking like a Yorkshire terrier during an orgasm...bonus points.

Is that too much to ask?

Lately the only thing that has been pretty much been keeping me sane and keeping my head up is running. Cycling soemtimes does it but it's running that I has been keeping my head straight. The next two months I'm doing this introductory speedwork program to hopefully get a faster time in my next 5K in February. Part of speedwork means intervals. I really frown upon intervals because I just don't like them. Intially I don't. Afterwards, I like them and I eat like a horse. Like tonight. I ended up making a hearty omlet with veggie sausage, chard and parm cheese with some frozen berries on the side. Speedwork is like spinach to a little kid. It may be yucky but it's good for you.

Whenever there is a downside, there is always an upside and vice versa. Like this holiday season which is almost on its way to a close (my God so fast, eh?). The downside is that I miss having someone special around for the holidays. Finding that gift for that special someone even though last year I was shaking my head all the way to Borders when I went to get one of Joe's coveted poker books is something I do miss. Exchanging presents. Kissing under the mistletoe. Stuff like that. Even though there is that part of me that wants to get him something from Sur La Table, I tell myself not to. I even want to send him a Christmas card but I think a gaggle of good thoughts will have to do as we try to negotiate and respect each other's space.

Now that sucks.

For the goodside, I've been getting a gaggle of holiday cards. Maybe because I'm sent more this year and early too. It somewhat makes up for the holiday void.

Something that struck me in therapy today. Kishi said something that said that it was the end for me and Joe. I mean he has stopped all communication with me, with no sign of picking up. I miss us being friends. I miss the comraderie. I miss him. Yet, I want to stay with him as long as I can on my empty MUNI bus to a destination unknown and with him being there but not seeing me or hearing me and sometimes not being there at all. The only things I have of him are the sweatshirt and a gaggle of memories. Maybe photos would have made it harder for me to ease the pain.

You wonder if it is safe to go back, to start up communications once again. That you wonder.

You wonder about the friends and aquaitnances that have been with people they have dated for long periods of their lives, some a half of their lifetime, some a third. Is that something that is lacking in you? Or would that same structure have held you back from all that you have achieved so far? I honestly think it would be the later for me. I might not have been so bold and risky in a lot of things if I was tied down to one person.

Then again, just because you are with one person for a long period of time doesn't equate to marriage. Take my cousin Mercel. She was with her boyfriend Beda for I think a good 7 or 8 years of their lives until he cheated on her and they broke up. She was only dating her current husband Al for 6 months before getting engaged. Comes to show that longevity doesn't really guarantee a lifetime partner.

This week I've been feeling all out of sorts but I'm hoping that tommorrow being a brand new week will relieve that. I think mostly I just want to get on with my life. More or less in terms of where I'm going to law school next fall and spending the next three years of my life.

I was able to get out of bed early, get dressed, and eat breakfast and almost got out of the house to go running with the Road Runners but I couldn't. I just went back to bed and slept until I had to go to work. I ended up having this rather disturbing dream that Ma left Pop for some white guy and was having his child and I was going to have stepsiblings. The wierd part was that Ma ended up looking like me now. It was all so strange and disturbing.

Shelly tried e-harmony, a new online dating service where it's more focused to find your match according to a real extensive profile. I ended up taking the rather long survey and found out that there was one match in the system, some guy out in Dublin named Jun (now how Filipino is that) who is an accountant. Ewwww...dullsville. Sometimes I honestly want to go out with someone else so I would just get Joe out of my system once and for all.

In terms of being all out of sorts, I've been eating quite a bit. I ended up eating two pieces of pizza from Blondies (it was OK). I've been drinking a lot of water right now but I swear, I think I'm gaining weight. Depression weight that is. OK, time to go running and this time stick to my speedwork program!

Maybe I should just stop looking for once in terms of finding some kind of conclusion with me and Joe and/ or purusing through craigslist for dates and stuff like that. I do miss the cuddling and affection and just being with someone.

I just miss it with Joe in particular.

A Year From Now...

Will I be...

Pounding my Saucony running shoes along the shores of the Charles River and staving off the Boston cold before hitting the law school books...or will I be coming out of swimming laps at the Koret Center and hearing the bells of St. Ignatius Catherdral as I schlep my books in my Timbuk2 bike bag to class...or will the bells of the Carillon peal through the crisp air as I wish for a Rose Bowl game and sip a skim milk latte from Strata...or will my trusty road bike Mabelda and I go for a nice ride out to Mount Hamilton before heading for another grueling session with books that weigh almost as much as me...or will I run through a once familiar route from Dupont Circle to the Mall towards the Captiol and back before hopping onto the Metro to class...or will I try to cart home a bunch of fresh fruits and veggies from Eatwell Farm at the famer's market and muching on my favorite black bean salad from Sacramento Foods Co-Op as I study for class...or will I scarf down a pork meatball bahn mi from a mom and pop sandwich shop on Larkin Street trying not to make a mess on my outlines...or will I be trying to dodge the snow on the crosswalks and scarfing down a Magnolia cupcake and trying to make time for class and hanging out with Alain in the Village...

Berkeley Hills...Grizzly Peak...Three Bears...Mount Eden...Mount Hamilton...Rock Creek Park...Central Park...Golden Gate Park...Old La Honda...Page Mill Road...the Mission...the Castro...Winters...Sonoma County...Eatwell Farm...Fleet Feet Sports...the Reservior... the Charles River...the Potomac River...Dupont Circle...Chelsea...Magnolia...Corner Bakery...Au Bon Pain...Lareal Plaza...chicken slouvaki...bahn mi...hoodies...peacoats...thick tights...winterwear...wool jerseys...WNYU...KQED...WAMU...East Coast...Weeeeesssssiiiiideee...Democrats...Republicans...the Captiol...the Building...City Hall...

Then where does the Pinoy boy that you fall from come from: down South where you grew up? the Northern Cali suburban variety via Fremont, San Jose, or Daly City? the East Coast kind that has a bit of a elitist probably a touch of Ivy League blue blood through them? Or the real friendly and down to earth Midwesterner that refers to soda as "pop" which even though it annoys the shit out of you. you love and find endearing.

So the question comes down to this- where am I going to law school where I am going to find my years running and riding and taking the campus by storm via law review and student government and clincs and making the connections to those who will be part of my political empire (both as staff and donors) and who knows, finding Mr. Edna Aileen Flores to boot?

Lately I've been eating rather poorly. I don't know if it's the cold weather or just the fact that I need comfort at this time in my life that I find somewhat sad and meaningless. For example, I had this craving for both a burrito and pizza so I got a slice of pepperoni pizza and made a burrito from the rice and beans and chicken that I had in the fridge. I downed it all with a Diet Coke. Now I'm buzzing from the caffine from the Diet Coke, my former drug that I would down during high school and college and trying to calm myself down with a mug of peppermint tea.

I have to do some errands tommorrow as well as do my intervals on the track as well. I'm not too fond of track work but whatever gets me to go faster, I'll do. I'll also have to return books as well. I have grown to like the two books by Alisa Rodrigues-Valdez, The Dirty Girls Social Club and Playing With Boys. Both talk about strong Latina women and the bonds of friendship throughout life's craziness and twists: abuse, jobs, loveless marriages, sexuality, unrequitted love, divorice, holding out on love. It also reminded me of the small sisterhood of Latina women I befriended in Washington, DC, all introduced by my friend Wei-Min whom I have fell out of touch with. Alex, Maria, Gaby, Paloma, Miriam. I was the honorary Latina in these Sunday night gatherings of dinner and chats. All of us were working in either government agencies or congressional offices. I grew close to Alex since both of our bosses worked on common issues in their Southern California congressional districts. Alex is the only one I keep in touch with and she admires me for going after my ambitions of law school. We joke that the two of us will be congresistas lounging in the porch of the Speaker's Office overlooking the Mall and talking about our days of lore in Congress when we started out as staffers.

During the hard times in my life, I look at books as some sort of source and guidance to see where things lie. However, at times I must remind myself that those are works of fiction and one person's experience. But there have been a number of books that have made an impact on me and the characters are folks that I have shared experiences with although at times, these people may differ from me whether it is race, sex, age, gender. Especially in times like these, I wish that I could find the answers oh so easily. Like will it be Joe pushing our baby on a swing or another man who I will bear his child.

As I think of these things and mull over them a bit, I'm listening to a CD of remixes of Mary J. Blige's songs. One song reminds me of my rather drama loaded period of being with Paul. All the crazy cycling and blond Pinoy moments. I'm not sure if he ends up riding that Lemond racing bike that he has. I think mostly he's more preoccupied with tennis. I have yet to see him strapped with a Baby Bjorn with a newborn in the sack. I feel like the next time I encounter him is like that one scene that Carrie had with her ex-boyfriend Aiden in Sex and the City where she runs into him and his newborn son. At times I question myself, a few years later, what I did see in that boy. And in many ways, he was a boy. Now I'm glad to say that this is all behind me.

What I have rudely discovered is that beating up on ones self takes up a lot of energy. I found myself in that situation yesterday where I just wanted to stay in bed and beat myself up for my Sunday at work meltdown. It took up so much energy that I couldn't even get up to go to therapy. I did find enough strength to get my butt to work only to find out that I came in an hour early. So Kevin had me go on a long long lunch where I spent a good half hour running. The joys of running during your lunch break.

But I felt a lot better after running and a good pasta dinner to head back to work and wrap things up. I had to pick up a birthday card from my brother Ed after work. I was meaning to get it into the mail before 5pm today but that didn't happen. I had to admit that it was hard for me to find a card for him since we're not particularly close anymore. I don't hate him or anything like that. I just think he can be a dick at times. Sometimes I wonder if one of us was adopted at birth. I mean how can you get a rather independent liberal Pinay and a conservative homebody Pinoy in the same gene pool?

It's raining right now. Ugh! At least I got in my run before the rain poured down. On my way home, I just felt resigned in the sense of what to make things out with Joe. I just wonder if I have any meaning in his life anymore. I just feel like I don't. I feel like if anything were to happen to me, he wouldn't care. Just like Ron did with me when I had my accident almost three years ago. I know it's so wrong of me to generalize. I guess because this is what I've always faced. Once the guy breaks up with you, you no longer hear from them.

And honestly it doesn't make it easier as I am typing this journal entry and listening to Coldplay.

Oh take me back to the start...

Life Is Just A Bouquet of Mother Fucking Stinking Roses

Sorry for such the bitter title. I can somewhat feel the pain and feel cheated that Cal fans felt today that the Golden Bears do not get a trip to Pasadena for the Rose Bowl. The anquitated and somewhat arbitrary Bowl Scoring System with along with a bunch of other polls such as the AP Poll and the Coaches Poll determine who goes to the coveted bowl games. And the mighty Trojans of USC get to go to Pasadena while the beloved Cal Bears go to the Holiday Bowl in San Diego.

I mean come on, Cal worked their ass off the past few years and this year was a pretty strong team. Selfishly, I wanted to go to the Rose Bowl as much as Joe does so that I can see the Rose Parade live instead of some living room. I think, maybe next year, when I finally am at Cal for law school, maybe that will be the year when it will be Roses.

Other than that, I took one of those "I just wanna stay in bed all day" days off. I didn't ride like I planned to and riding sounded great last night when everything melted down, when I couldn't control things, when I just bawled and cried. It seemed as if everything started to hit me- the stress of the holidays, the depression of the state of my relationship or lack of relationship with Joe and my family, me being broke, me working in retail. However, I got myself up out of bed this evening and had enough energy to make a nice warm dinner, take a warm bath with lavender bath oil and enjoy a hot mug of tea as I am writing. All I can say right now is what I'm doing to keep myself sustained financially is just a job and nothing more, nothing less.

I read something last night from one of my godbrothers. It happens to be the prayer of St. Therese, the little flower. There was a line that went along the lines of trying to trust God that you're in the place you are right now. I'm trying my best to trust things the way they are right now even though I have to admit, they suck beans big time. It's a process but things could be much worse than they are right now. Even the fact that I am working and have enough energy to make a simple meal and have a hot bath are luxuries in some people's eyes. I have to consider myself lucky that I do have a college degree. There's a time and place for everything I suppose.

Right now I want to comfort my Midwestern ex boyfriend and console him for the Bears not going to the Rose Bowl. But what do you say when there has been so much distance, so much silence. When there still is a good deal of pain between the two of you? Do you reach out to him because it's the holidays and this is the time to be nice to everyone? I mean why can't the holidays be every day where you are nice to everyone 365 days a year not reduced to 30 something odd days. I just so want to move on but I don't know how or where to go.

What do you do when you feel like your whole world is falling apart? When the pressure builds up and all you can do is whine and cuss which is not so becoming? How can you pull yourself together to put yourself day in and day out of a job you don't particularly hate but you just go through the motions through day in and day out. What do you do when your life is like that, a day in, day out, going through the motions kind of deal. Where at times you wish there was someone to say, "there, there..." and soothe you and wipe away tears and still love you despite your fuckups. The way a parent would love a child.

Here I am, trying to go through the best recesses of my memory when I had that unconditional love. Yet, I felt I had to perform all the time, do my best in order to gain acceptance. Any mistake meant they would love me less and I would feel worthless of any type of love or reward. Any mistake in anything. That is why I excell, why I have to prove myself to have people accept me for who I am. Sre I'm a bright and smart person but I feel like at the same time, I have to play by a bunch of rules, sometimes bullshit rules, to just excell. At times, I wish I had the courage to think outside the box and to be me, the one who is outside of some boxed norms of what I should be as a Filipina, as a woman, as a human being.

Yet I cannot disclose my angst of waiting for law school acceptances or the pain I endure from losing Joe. Instead, I swallow it all up and put it away and just do what I'm supposed to do all with a smile. Yet, inside at times, I am in a diluge of tears and pain and uncertainty. The routine is the only way of keeping me sane, alive and focused though at times I just want to run away and hide and just do nothing but think and read and write and cook and ride my bike and run.

What sounds tempting right now- honestly, a few good climbs up the Marin Headlands. For me, it is a steep climb to conquer on the bicycle. For Joe, it was a place where he would have long talks with close friends about things as he has lived his life here in California for most of his adult years.

If only I can find that person that could soothe me and say, "there, there..." and still love me for who I am, please, show me that person. Find that person that can be that balm, that salve to soothe life's wounds and cuts and scrapes. Please love me for who I am inside, the person that I am and want to become.

Tell Me Again...Can We Be Lovers and Friends...

One of the things that I have grown to like about my new position is that I get to listen to some hip hop all day long. Of course I bemoan at times I can listen to the same Snoop Dogg tune on the hour and every hour. However, a new slow jam by Usher, Ludacrist and Lil' John has been playing a lot on the airwaves and it makes me totally think of Joe.

I talked to Alan for a good while last night. He could totally understand what I feel right now- just me going through the motions of my life. It's like this- get up, eat breakfast, shower, go to work, run, cycle, eat lunch, eat dinner, get groceries, get laundry, wait for law school application responses, write in blog, go to sleep, rinse and repeat. Though a routine might calm the anxious nerves, it's bugging the shit out of me. Mostly because I want to move on with some things in my life. Mostly because I want some sort of closure with what is going on with me and Joe, some sort of concrete conclution or continuation, not some mass of uncertainty and "I don't know".

At times I feel myself slip and want to eat junky or not exercise. I didn't this morning, go for my run with SFRRC (I haven't lately). I was pretty beat from yesterday's ride. I haven't been really feeling myself. Maybe bits and pieces of joy but nothing to last long. A co-worker today said that she liked the fact that I was always happy. If only she knew what was really brewing inside...

It's the moments you try to remember...those little snapshots where you worry that they will fade into some space in your memory where the ones that you have dated before and ex-boyfriends lie...the space where those moments and memories only occupy a nanosecond of your conciousness before you move onto the next task or thought.

What do I remember...the times where he would kiss the back of my neck, trying to find that spot where I would melt like jelly that would prompt me to say in my little girl voice, "whacha doin?" and he would mischivously reply, "mmmm...nothing..." and continue to kiss my neck. I would remember how he would whisper, "I'm not done with you yet..." as he would get up to go the bathroom to put on a condom before we get to the best part of our lovemaking. Oh how those words would make my heart race and send chills of anticipation up my spine. And just before he would enter in me, he would have this look of passion and love in his eyes, so intently focused to please me, to give all his love to me, so intent to make love to me, to fuck my brains out to the point where I would yelp and scream and moan in pleasure, to the point where my facial muscles cannot make distignishable sounds...it was that good! And there were the times where he went down on me, every so often he would open his eyes and look at me as he licked and sucked my wet pussy, looking to see if I enjoyed it. Thought I might have a pained expression on my face, my eyes reflected a totally different feeling, something that said, "Don't stop...keep going..." How he would hold me as we slept, gently placing a kiss on the back of my neck and me suggling closer to him, like two spoons in the nice sliverwear drawer. There was also that sense of playfulness in bed where we would laugh, not making fun of each other but just laughing because we enjoyed being with each other and goofing off in an activity that would make one self concious at times. It felt so right to the point where I wanted it more and more, to bathe in it, to be in his arms forever, to be bathed with his kisses and caresses. Where he would still love me no matter what. Where I would at times put on his shirt, the old and ratty Bowles Hall shirt that he loved so much and where I would wake up in the middle of the night to write in my journal. Only to hop back into bed and he would strip off the shirt and we would make love again as the sun rose. How he would hold me, his chin on top of my head and my head buried in his chest, inhaling a scent of Tommy Boy and Downey fabric softener, scents that would make me dizzy and high.

At times, I fear that those sensations that I would experience would fade. The feelings and the intensity are there to the point where I cry, where it scares me because I wonder if I can feel those things anymore with him or another man. If I close my eyes, I can clearly picture those things, where all my five senses would be totally engaged as if he was right there. Then I wake up, scared, afraid, sad, angry...a tidal wave of emotions that would beat myself up for doing what I did, blaming myself for the state of what we are now.

There is that part of me that wants to cut out these feelings and emotions. To bury myself in another man's embrace and scent that would exorcise the feelings and emotions of the man I am truly in love with. It's as if his scent and memory is deeply etched in my bones, my blood, my cells, my soul, my memory, my brain. Nothing can cleanse that away. At times I just want to find something to be angry at him about so that I can exorcise him out of my life with a clean break. But no, it doesn't happen that way.

I want him back. Can we be retrosexual where we come back together and make love once again? Will I be in his arms again? Will I be able to goofy in bed with him? Will I make more happy memories with him? Will I share more of my life with him and his with mine? Will I be able to look into those dark brown eyes of his, full of love and passion for me, to feel his coarse dark brown hair thorugh my fingers as we kiss and embrace, to feel his skin the color of golden crust of bread, his strong body made possible by running and weight training sessions at 24 Hour Fitness. I want to hear his voice once again, the slight Chicago accent that comes out when he says certain words. I want him to say "pop" to me when he refers to soda, something that annoys me but something I truly miss. Does time heal all wounds? Can I live without him? Can we come back together?

I can't believe it's already December. Today is World AIDS Day. I was listening to some piece on NPR's "Talk of the Nation" where Judd Winnick, one of the roommates of Pedro Zamora, AIDS educator and activist, on MTV's "The Real World" talk about the state of AIDS and how these days, AIDS is not being mentioned as much as it used to. People assume that AIDS is one of those diseases that is manageable and maybe curable due to all the drugs out there. Then there is also the current Administration that doesn't even mention it because of AIDS inherent shame and stigma. There still is no cure. People are dying. Not just gay white men but anyone and everyone these days. It is killing people all over the world, no matter what racial, class or sexual orientation people are. Listening to that piece has prompted me to do something about my AIDS/ LifeCycle donation letters. I still have yet to send out the thank you notes.

However, the pieces of mail that I manage to get out is the majority of Christmas cards. I actually call them holiday cards since I have friends that do not celebrate Christmas. I heard of some new cards designed for those that celebrate Christmas and Chanukka. I'm not much of a person to buy presents since I'm really too broke to get presents. But I figured a good card is pretty much enough to give some cheer.

I'm trying to keep warm during this cold snap. I have been running quite a bit lately, trying out a new speed workout program. Tonight I tried a progressive run where I start out slow and get faster and faster on one of my regular routes heading by Dolores Park to Dubose Park and by California Pacific Medical Center Davis Campus in the Castro and back home. I ended up having to add a little milage so that it would be a good 35 minute run. I can't believe that I really had a good clip by the end.

This weekend is Friends and Family at the Gap. It's a nice four days as opposed to three days that I'm used to at Banana Republic. I'll be working three out of the four days. I'm looking forward to cycle on Friday.

It seems like lately that I've been looking at little things to get me through- reading books, running, cycling, making food and various dishes. Anything to just get on with life. There are times where I still feel the sadness. And I wish there was something to erase it, something to assure me that all will be alright between me and Joe.