for the month of july............

July 23, 2003
1:30pm

PRAGMATIC_DREAMER DEFINED I

This is my secret world. I am THE pragmatic dreamer. It is quite paradoxical I know. But if you were a smart guy, you would know exactly why I am a pragmatic dreamer. I am quite sensible, practical, rational and all the other synonyms of pragmatic. Yes. I am all that and more. But I am also an idealist, romantic, quixotic... I believe that the world is not black or white. I believe there are gray, blue, red, pink and yellow areas in between. That’s why I do not define myself as only pragmatic, or as only a dreamer. I am both that and more.

I am pragmatic. I know how to set limitations for myself. I know my strengths and weaknesses. I know if a dream is reachable or not. In terms of love, I have been burned badly before. I do not set great expectations on men. I am a cynic. I do not believe men could keep their promises. I do not believe a long-distance relationship could last forever. A lot of things could happen between now and forever. And I believe that forever is along time coming. I do not want to waste my time on farfetched promises. I believe in taking my life one-day at a time. I have already set plans for myself, plans for the future. Plans of what I want my life to be. Reasonable plans. Reachable plans.

I am a dreamer. I dream of a good life. I dream of a good man by my side. I am romantic. I read love stories. I have a copy of Chicken Soup for the Romantic Soul in my room. I read that everyday, not because I actually believe that true love could exist for me, but because I want to have a reminder that true love indeed exists, if not for me then for others. I am romantic because no matter how badly I had been burned my faith in men still exists, even if they are quite fictional – like in the love stories I read... I am a dreamer because I wish that I were not so pragmatic. Huh. Does that make sense? Figure it out.

These are just some of the reasons why I see myself as a pragmatic dreamer. Which of the two weighs the more I do not know. That’s for the reader to analyze...

July 23, 2003
9:20pm

OH TO BE YOUNG... AND A BELIEVER... AGAIN

Remember when you were a little girl and everything in your life seems to be perfect? When the simplest of things amount to one hundred percent pure bliss? When the music from the cart of the ice cream man would bring a smile on your face? When one scoop of that much desired ice cream, and you’re in heaven?

Remember that time when you had a fight with your sister, and in just a matter of minutes you are talking again, and you’ve completely forgotten what the fight is all about?

Remember when you believed in fairy tales and happily ever after? Remember when you believed in love and the magic of it? Remember that time?

I sure do. And how I wish I could backtrack time when I believed. How I wish simple things would give me the joy it once did. How I wish I haven’t woken up to the reality of life. How I wish life hasn’t turned me into a skeptic.

I don’t know what I am skeptical about esp. in terms of love. Hasn’t fate let me experience what love really meant? Hasn’t time taught me to be patient and let love ran its course. Hasn’t it taught me that love never really ran smooth, and that love is much sweeter after you had been burned?

But then again it’s all because of these that I have turned into a cynic. Love and time has also taught me not to believe in fairy tales anymore. They have taught me to face reality.

I remember one episode in Ally MacBeal when Georgia (one of the major characters) said something along these lines: parents should never have read their children happily ever after stories, they should never have made their children believe in Santa clause or Easter bunny or the tooth fairy, because when they grow up and find out all these are not true, they would only be disappointed.

Actually that was not the exact line but it was something like that. And I agree with Georgia.

I guess it would really take one heck of a man to make me a believer again. Maybe the monologue man is that man. Maybe.

July 24, 2003
11:53am

MY MONOLOGUE MAN

I called my monologue man last night. His voice made me remember bittersweet memories of that time not so long ago... back in college...when I thought I was the only one in his life. We reminisced of the good times...never the bad times. Because those bad times evoke memories we couldn’t bear to remember again. I don’t know why. Those difficult times made me stronger, and made me recognize many things about myself that I otherwise wouldn’t have known.

I, for one, just want to bury that past because I am scared of learning how much more impact SHE has on his life. I don’t want to hear him say once more in my ears: Is it my fault I had loved two women? I chose you didn’t I?

But since I opened up a can of worms by simply writing this journal, let me then open it all the way...

I remembered the first time it happened...so vividly, as if it was only yesterday and not almost a year now. I remembered him telling me that SHE contacted him and asked if SHE could talk to him. He said yes of course... I remembered him telling me reluctantly, after I learned of their secret meeting, that SHE told him when SHE found out he already has a girlfriend, that was when SHE realized how much SHE love him.

I can clearly recall the look of longing in his eyes when he told me this. His words said he couldn’t just leave me now that SHE beckons for him, but I saw in his eyes, and heard in his voice how much he wanted to go.

I can’t blame him. He had loved her for more than five years. He waited for HER to love him back. He never gave up, not until for the fifth and last time SHE told him he’s waiting for nothing. Then he met me. And maybe he thought he fell in-love with me. We’ve only known each other for five months when the bombshell exploded. Compared to five years of unrequited love, I figured five months was nothing. His friend Lemonchair told me to fight for him. But then, I figured I would only fight a losing battle. I was right.

And I did something my friends got pissed about. I let him go. At that time I know in my heart that was the right thing to do. I told him I wasn’t mad at him. I told him, in a teary voice, that his long wait is over. SHE finally learned to love him. And me? Well, I’m just gonna fade in the background then.... My so-called friends called me a martyr after that. I think they just don’t understand. I am not selfish. I loved him too much that was why I let him go to his happiness. It was not easy. When I am alone, the tears just wouldn’t stop falling. I couldn’t sleep because every time I close my eyes, I see his face and I realize what I had lost.

No matter what my friends say – that he is a jerk and a loser – I know better. I know he is a good man. A good man just caught between a rock and a hard place.

And you know the one thing I have realized about myself is this: I have learned and experience what rue love is all about. I know that to let him go would bring me pain. I know that to let him go I might have forfeited my chance of ever being loved. I know that to let him go, I would have to spend a lifetime of hopelessness. But I let him go. Why? Because I love him. I had understood, at an early stage in my life, that a lover does not hold the object of his love hostage to his possessive grasp.

And you know what? I had also learned the value of patience. See? If I had not let him go so easily, then he wouldn’t have come back willingly in my arms. He chose to come back to me. I didn’t force him. He came back to me.

But there is only one catch. I know he still loves her. And I know he loves me too. That’s why I sometimes get a little, okay fine, I admit, a lot insecure every time I learn he still has contact with her. But I can hardly complain since I know they’ve been friends much longer than we had been.

I guess you cannot get rid of that insecurity in me that easily. But thankfully, I had learned to live with it, by not digging up the past. I now buried the hatchet. I just hope it wouldn’t rise to the living again...

July 24, 2003
3:56pm

REDISCOVERING THE JOY OF WRITING

I had a curious conversation with my grandmother and auntie last Tuesday, and I just remembered it now.
I was telling them of my plans to take up nursing here in New Jersey. They were a little surprised, but they were very supportive saying since I am still young anyway, I could do whatever I want. Then my grandmother asked me: Why did you take up journalism anyway? And my auntie butted in, yeah, you wouldn’t find work in the Philippines anyway with that kind of major. Then my grandmother said, yeah, if you took up nursing you wouldn’t have to study far from home. I just told them that at that time I never thought we would be going to USA in the near future. I told them that if I had known I would’ve taken up nursing back then in a jiffy...But you know that was just a cock and bull story. If I tell them the real reason they wouldn’t understand me anyway.

Why did I take up journalism? The truth this time? Well, it is because I love reading books. And through that passion sprouted in me another passion... I wanted to write my own book. I want to create a story of my own. That is why I applied at the top two journalism Universities in the Philippines, and ended up in my alma mater the University of Santo Tomas. Writing was then a passion. And when I discovered what journalists do in real life, it made me love my major further more. In nursing, you would be focused only on one field – that is the intricacies of medicine. But with journalism, you would know a lot on different fields – humanities, medicine, events, history, and real life. And I loved that. And about the comment of my grandmother of studying far from home, well, I would never exchange that experience with anything. I saw real life and real people in Manila. I learned a lot from city living. I met my friends. I met my monologue man. Now, if I stayed in Pampanga, what would have happened to me? That I wouldn’t know.

Now, I’m really glad my auntie gave me this computer. Now I couldn’t stop writing my thoughts. I felt alive again. I have rediscovered once again the joy writing gives me. This is the only place where I can let it all out, my real feelings, the real me, the pragmatic dreamer.

July 25, 2003
4:49pm

PRAGMATIC_DREAMER IS NOT A QUITTER

Now, I’m no quitter okay but I do have some reservations about my upcoming new work. Can you guess where it is? In the kitchen of a nursing home... yeah I know. I was thinking earlier while I was having an orientation about my new work: what am I doing in this kitchen when I have a journalism diploma? Yeah, what indeed? I don’t know. I came to America searching for a good life. And I landed on a kitchen. Hurray.

But like I said in my first sentence, I am no quitter. I know I have to start low to go up high. It’s gonna be hard work. But I will always keep what my mother always tells us. That u should never quit while you are on the lowest of the low. Just climb your way to the top through hard work and perseverance. And that’s what I’m gonna do. I promise myself before we went here in the US that I am never gonna complain. Nope. They won’t hear a word of protest from my mouth. I know I can make it big someday. I know in my heart that I am gonna make it

My mother taught me good, and I’m not going to let her down by quitting this early in the game.

* * *

Anyway, you know writing in English is much better than saying or hearing it. I had a slightly hard time talking to my co-workers earlier. They spoke really fast. And I was always saying to them – What? I didn’t understand them the first time they say something. I need a lot of practice. Oh heck. I’ve only been here less than two months. I figured I’d have the rest of my life to practice. That’s a lot of time.

July 26, 2003
10:50pm

DREAMING OF WORLD PEACE

I put on the Filipino Channel mode on my television, and guess what I see? My homeland is in shambles, or at least it is about to be in shambles. There is an attempted coup d’etat back in my homeland. I don’t know the whole story but from what I heard from the news so far, it seems some 200 military men from the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) are attempting to overthrow the Arroyo government. It seems that they had planted bombs at the Makati area.

The atmosphere is really very tense. It’s scary to be in Manila right now. My monologue man is out there, in the heart of the coup, covering the whole situation. My brave, brave man. He must be excited right now to be covering such important news. For sure, his stories would be placed in the front page of his newspaper. It would be the banner story. What a scoop for his career!

You know sometimes, I wish I had the same passion for writing as he has. Then maybe, I would have worked in some newspaper, covering such important news. But I don’t. I honestly don’t know if I would have that kind of passion in writing. I like it. But it’s not a passion.

But then again, as it always happens when I’m writing, I always veer away from the main topic at hand. See, that’s what’s wrong with my writing. I have so many ideas in my head that when I put them down in paper, the ideas just spread out all over. There is no direction. I really need more practice on this.

So anyway, as I was saying in my lead paragraph, my place, my native land, is in deep mess right now. I only hope those 200 revolutionary men aren’t bomb-happy. I mean, the Makati area is the thriving place of our economy. It would really be a big blow (literally and figuratively) if those bombs went off.

I was watching the interview of some media people on the leader of the attempted coup. Media asked what he wants to accomplish by his actions. He said he wants Arroyo to step down from the government. Why? Because, apparently, he accuses Arroyo of being responsible for the Davao bombing some time this year. He said he was only protecting the Filipinos against such terrorist actions of the presidency. Okay. Now, that we’ve established that, the media said, have you had a proper forum with the proper authorities about this? Have you talked to the government about this? Would you like to talk to them? His answer? NO. A big NO.

I was thinking, my gosh, really, what does this man want to accomplish now? If only people learn to communicate effectively, in a peaceful manner, without resorting to guns and bombs, then maybe they would have resolved their differences easily. As now, the communication is only one way, if there is any at all. Both parties are threatening the other. At the cost of a whole nation. That’s a sick scenario, if you ask me. Why couldn’t they learn to listen to each other? Why do they have to close their ears? Why the heck can’t they compromise? What the hell is going on in the world today?

I was thinking what a relief it is that I am in the US now, safe from harm. But you know what, I must really love the Philippines, because no matter that I am thousands of miles away from home, I am still affected by what’s happening. I’m still anxious that things might go haywire there. It must be because my life is still there. My family, my friends, and my monologue man. Not to mention, my memories, my joy and my pain. I left them there. Now, I want them here with me, to keep them safe. I wish I could bring them here.


* * *


I went to a birthday party earlier. I was bored. I mean, honestly, I love my family and all, but I was wanting of the company of people of my own age, people I can really relate to. And boys, boys, boys. (forgive me monologue man, but that’s nothing serious, honestly)

There were boys, yes. But they are literally just boys. The 16-year old kind. That’s way too young, even for me. And besides, I dig older men. Mature men. Big men. harhar.

And besides, my little cousin keeps bugging me. Honestly, I am a nice person. But she was really getting into my skin. Irritating. Really irritating.

So anyway, while I was musing by myself, I was thinking I should continue reading good books. I promise myself when I have the money to spare that I am going to start a collection of books. Only good books mind you. Not those Harlequin or Mills and Boons. I outgrew those now. I’m now into mature books. Like the Harry Potter? haha. That was an exemption. Besides, the harry potter collection is real good. Very entertaining. Anyway, I was thinking that I want to enhance my knowledge and also my vocabulary. I want to be able to say high falluting words in one sentence. Makes me sound intelligent.

July 27, 2003
11:19am

THE BALLOON HAS DEFLATED OR HAS IT?

The attempted coup of some 200 military men has been shattered into a million bits. What was left are the bombs scattered all over Makati. And then, even those are being removed now. Arroyo sure deserves one big thumbs up.

But now that I’ve come to think of it...now that I have heard the grievances of these men, of what made them do what they did...I am left wondering if maybe they were right.

These some 200 men are still young, at the height of their career... in their mid-30s. What were they thinking about? One thing for sure. They are idealists. These are men who have been tired of witnessing corruption in their system. Maybe they thought: Before the system eats us, let’s get to them first and try to stop it. I actually applaud their idealism. They had strove to change the shady world they live in. They fought for what they believed to be one government of lies and terrorism. They traded their positions in the military to expose a whole can of worms. They shook up what little confidence the Filipino nation has left on the system of their government. They are heroes in my eyes.

Yes, heroes. I salute their passion. Of course, I do not condone the violence they were about to do. But I applaud the principles that led to their rebellion. I wish I had that same kind of passion... to fight for what you believe in no matter what the odds are. I wish I could just give up everything for principle. But I know I can’t. I am too much of a coward. I am too pragmatic, too sensible.

I only wish that the rebellion served as a wake up call to those in higher positions. I only hope they do something about the accusations. I only hope they answer to the grievances aired by these brave men. I only hope that this rebellion sizzles up to nothingness.

But the question still remains: Is there still hope in the Philippines? I do not believe that the balloon has deflated. I believe that the rebellion only swelled it up even more.


* * *

10:52pm

CAUGHT BETWEEN A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE

I know his pain. I can feel it as if it’s my own. I know his heart has shattered into a million pieces. I know his dreams had faded. I know the disappointment he’s feeling right now. But there’s nothing I can do about it. Because no matter how much hurt he is, I know he’s wrong. And they are right.

My father is such a headstrong man. He is much like those some 200 rebels. When he wants something he fights for it. Only sometimes he is too blinded by that dream that he doesn’t think of the consequences of his actions.

Right now, I know my father feels he is alone in his plight. But he is wrong. We are on his side. They are on his side. He just doesn’t realize it yet.

My father had been spoiled by his position in the bank he worked at in the Philippines. He had always gotten what he wanted because every person was at his beck and call. I guess right now, moving in a foreign country is quite a tremendous change for him. Back in the Philippines, he started at the bottom and worked his way at the top. People loved him there. He has power. He has money. Or at least people thought he has. For my father is such an extravagant man.

Now that we are in a foreign country, he is nothing here but just an ordinary person. No one knows him. And no one really cares of his position back in the Philippines. For them, he is just one lowly jobless-looking-for-a-job man. Just like the rest of America.

Now, his decision to buy an expensive car brought on negative remarks esp. that of his brother. And he hated that. He fell in-love instantly with that car. And besides, he can pay for it through his savings and my sister Lanie will give some of the money. My sister doesn’t approve of such an extravagant purchase. For her, that is a luxury we couldn’t afford right now. I don’t still have a steady job. My mom doesn’t have a steady job. My brother and my dad don’t have jobs at all. We barely make ends meet as it is. So how are we gonna pay the insurance and other things? My sister has a point. But my father doesn’t see it. Right now, he feels that the world has turned their back on him. He felt that my sister has turned her back on him.

And he is in pain right now. Emotionally.

Oh daddy, if only you would listen to them. Hear their point. And don’t think that they are plotting against you. Because they’re not. They love you that’s why they don’t want you to make the wrong decisions. Which, I guess you already did. Hay.