MussoLOLen is Always Right! |

So now my best friend recently got boyfriended and I have conflicting emotions about it. Don’t get me wrong–I’m extremely happy for her. My fingers have been crossed ever since she told me that she was really into this guy because fuck, Cupid owes her big-time. And since I seem to be The Girl Who Can Help Resolve Romantic Dilemmas Of All Sorts (Except Her Own), I spent quite a while giving her advice and relationship pep talks like:

“You’ll never know if it will work out unless you give it a shot. Sure, there’s always the possibility that you might not be as compatible as you thought you’d be and I know you’ll be completely crushed if that happens. In which case I shall be here with a pack of tissues and my guitar. But in the instance that it does work out–it will be one of the most intense, beautiful, and enriching things you’ll ever experience in your life. The risk of heartbreak will be worth it.”

“Stop assuming things! Just because he said this and this doesn’t mean he’s not interested in you.”

“Whatever you do, do not make the same mistakes I did in my last relationship. Speak up if he does something that you don’t like. Make compromises. Don’t let him take over your life. And most importantly, don’t be afraid to break up with him if you really have to.”

On the other hand – and I’m not particularly proud to admit this – the more insensitive part of me is flailing about like a colic baby and screaming monologues. “NOOO! Why did you leave meee? We were supposed to spend our twenties being single and bitter together, then move to New York and waitress during the day and play in smoky bars at night! Who’s going to have bitter conversations with me about how men are nothing but giant assholes? Who’s going give happy couples the evil eye with me? Who’s going to be the drive-by shooter on the night we decide to assassinate every single guy that ever broke our hearts or screwed us over? Who’s going to read me Dorothy Parker’s poetry?”

The days before bourgeois suicide

I feel abandoned somewhat. I know it’s a silly thing to think because nothing really changed in terms of the way Kristel treats me. There are times, however, when I can’t help but feel like a helpless duckling in the rain. Perhaps it’s because the last six months felt as though I was in a relationship with her, in the sense that I let myself become emotionally dependent and used to her being there for me 24/7. We cried over boys together, angsted about life-after-college together, and kept each other sane. Hell, we even say “I love you” before signing off YM every evening.

Ever since she got together with her boyfriend though, it feels as though we just broke up and we’re in that awkward stage where we’re trying to “be just friends”. And trust me, it’s very awkward. These days I can’t even look at her and her boyfriend because they’re so sweet around each other, merely glancing at them could potentially give me diabetes. Me no want diabeetus.

I’m being incredibly irrational, of course, so I’ll chalk this up to the initial panic that comes with change. Of course she’s not abandoning me. I know her and she’s not the type to leave her friends and the band to go chasing after love. Still….things just aren’t the same anymore, you know? I know that boyfriend or no, she’ll always be there for me. We work in the same place, for Christ’s sakes, so there’s really no escaping my frantic requests for a cigarette break. Still, I can’t shake off the feeling that I lost something I can’t quite name.

We were doing the shotgun cigarette trick here.
It’s not what you think it is. :P

I hope I didn’t come across sounding like a bitter ex-girlfriend because I’m not. Abandonment issues aside, I’m rooting for them all the way because I can see that what they have is a really good thing. I’ve never seen Kristel so happy before. :)

I can still remember the day when everything stopped being simple and started being complicated. It was the day, or a few days after, I broke up with the ex. Before that day, my life was in order. Everything was in black and white. People were either smart or dumb. Women were either sluts or virgins. Men were either assholes or gentlemen.

I’m starting to realize that the world isn’t as simple as that, that there are a lot of gray areas in everything and people are more complex and can’t be boxed into categories A, B, or C.

God knows I did everything I could to make today a good day, or at least an okay day. But I saw the traffic this morning and no matter how many cheerful songs I played on my iPod, I knew I was going to go through a depressive spell sometime today. I was running a little late this morning, but not late enough to actually be late and get fined an hour’s worth of my salary. The fifteen-minute difference meant far more cars on the road than I’m used to and I started getting depressed over the traffic. The traffic, for fuck’s sake. It’s such a stupid yuppie bourgeois thing to get all stressed over, but I never used to think this way about traffic. I was thinking about how all these people on the road probably work in Makati and left early so that they could avoid the headache of rush hour and actually get to the office on time. Except two million other people have the same brilliant idea so the traffic is still the same no matter what time it is. And that thought really got me down, for some reason. Life’s shitty enough without people being assholes on the road and everyone trying to get to work at the same time.

It used to be that going to work was something I looked forward to because the friends I’m making there are wonderful people and the workload isn’t even all that bad. Seriously, it’s a fucking comedy show everyday, and how many people can say that about their jobs? But no thanks to some stupid drama, the thought of work tomorrow makes want to throw up. I wish my cubicle were in a more inaccessible place so I can just sneak in and out of the room without being seen or seeing anyone. I dread having to wake up every morning to do the same old same old and for what? Yeah I have vague plans of taking a cross-country trip in the US maybe after a year of working, but what’s going to keep me going until then? The band? What band? We’re making songs yeah but where is this going to get us? It’s been two months since we had an actual rehearsal and though I scheduled one for tomorrow, I have this sinking feeling in my stomach that someone is going to back out and I swear to God if that happens I’ll snap, throw an embarrassing hissy fit, then quit. I’m sick of being the band nazi, I’m sick of being the one who has to get things moving. I’m sick of doing everything and getting nowhere.

The point I’m trying to make out of all this is that today was one of those days where I realized that shit, I’m not a kid anymore. I’m waking up to the real world everyday and I don’t like what I see. Everything I used to take for granted, like parking fees and foot spas, suddenly costs way too much. The money I make is never enough to buy me all the stuff I want, and I’m not even sure why I want all that stuff in the first place. Sometimes I think that maybe parents should never read children fairy tales with happy endings because it’s such a fucking shock to discover that there is such a thing as Prince Charming, but he’s so fucking charming that all the Prince Charmings in all fairy tales are one and the same guy. But then again, maybe all that happy-ending propaganda is good for something because if it weren’t, I bet kids as young as eight would start swinging from their bedroom windows. They’re not old enough to know just how shitty life gets. Maybe I’m not old enough to know how shitty life gets. Maybe this is all just a prologue.

I’m told that I think too much about stuff like this and that’s why I get depressed. But nobody’s going to teach me this shit and if I don’t think about any of this, I’ll just go through life without knowing anything. Ignorance may be bliss, sure, but I’ll just feel like I lived for nothing if I just go through the motions without examining my life as Socrates says.

Oh, I know that in a couple of years or so I’ll eventually snap out of this angst or growing pains or whatever you call it. I’ll get my head back on straight and life will be simple again. Then I’ll laugh at everything I ever wrote and I’ll be business-minded enough to condense all these angst-ridden entries into a book that I can market to depressed 21-year olds. I just wish there was some way I can fast-forward the next four or so years of my life and move on to the part where I’m mature and happy, or as close to happy as anyone can get.

This moment of angst was brought to you by Thom Yorke and the rest of Radiohead.

No alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises please.

Last night, I stayed in for the first time in weeks. After the first social engagement got canceled, I quickly put Plan B into action but by the time my friends got back to me, I was too lazy to get up and get dressed. Plus my parents have been complaining that I never stay in and spend quality evenings with them. By “quality evenings” I mean, me in my room, my sister in her room, my mom in her room, and my dad downstairs watching TV. The Dado family all under one roof.

At first I was panicky about my lack of Saturday night plans. It occurs to me that I’ve grown an aversion to spending time with myself, and that lately I’ve been desperately filling up my social calendar so as to avoid those long evenings with me and my lonesome. When I’m alone I get depressed and when I get depressed–well, getting depressed isn’t exactly the best way to party on a Saturday night, is it?

But I’m all for trying out new things. So last night, I decided to skip all social activities and take up my shrink’s advice and “sit with my Depression.” The problem with me (and most people I suppose) is that I do everything it takes to avoid being depressed or deny that I’m feeling that way. But there are times when sitting down and just feeling the depression is healthy. I forgot why exactly it’s supposed to be healthy but I ignored that little detail and decided to go along with this plan. I didn’t really have much to do.

So I sat with Depression in the bathroom while Elliott Smith sang to us about faking it through the day with some help from Johnny Walker Red. I sat there for a very long time, not really thinking or doing anything. At first I thought I’d try to figure out why I was feeling depressed but once I did that, I realized it didn’t make me feel any better. Eventually, I got bored sitting with Depression because he’s really not that much fun to be with. Plus, he keeps smoking my cigarettes, which I think is very rude.

So I picked up my guitar (I had gone into my room at this point) and played a random chord. Then I played another random chord. Pretty sound the random chords started sounding good together and I had a nice little riff going right there. I sang out gibberish to the melody I made and after a while, there were words to sing along to the music as the gibberish became coherent sentences. I was amazed. It’s been months since I last wrote a song all by myself–guitars and lyrics and all–so I was pretty fucking stoked. The song I made is called Escape and it’s about doing whatever it takes to be happy and to get way from the lousy state you’re in. Of course it’s chock-full of angst and I’m sure a lot of people would say that it sucks, but who cares? I wrote a song and although it needs some tweaking, I’m pretty fucking happy with it. It’s been a while since I created something I actually like. Depression might be a lousy conversationalist, but he’s good for inspiration.

Every time I get depressed, I stay that way for a while because I keep thinking that I’ll never be happy again. Which is both true and not true, when you come to think of it. If what I want is the happily-ever-after ending propaganda spread by fairy tales and Disney cartoons, of course I’m never going be happy. But life, the way I see it, is like a long dark hallway with little dim lamps placed at random intervals. It’s all a matter of trying to find the will and determination to keep walking that scary hallway to reach those sparks of light, those brief rare moments where happiness in its purest form can be tasted, before the world goes dark again.

Kristel once told me that depression and happiness is overrated. The only thing we should strive for, she said, is calm. I guess you can say that last night, I was the calmest I’ve been in a while. Calm is good. It’s just staying in the moment, accepting things as they come without angsting about how things should be better, blah blah blah. Because no matter how much you wish things were better, they’re not. So you might as well just go with the flow, acknowledge whatever it is you’re feeling, and keep walking that long dark hallway towards the light. The yellow glow of the lamps is very very pretty.