Iz a bb boy!

So I now have two wonderful boys in my life -- this little one and his dad. And I find it weird because I grew up without much male influence in my life, what with my dad dying when I was ten. I grew up in a family of four girls, my wonderful mother included. And it was fun, but essentially, I was kind of forced to be the "boy". Picking characters from Power Rangers? I'm the blue ranger! And now I'm thinking: How can I raise this little boy to be the best boy in the world? It's true what they say about motherhood -- you'd want to put everything within your child's reach without managing to spoil the wonder that he'd experience in discovering new things. I haven't even touched him yet but in a heartbeat, I'd lay my life down for him.

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Now playing: Paper Kites - Halcyon

Breathe In, Breathe Out, Don't Cry

The oldies weren't kidding when they tell us that marriage is not for the faint of heart or "Ang pag-aasawa ay hindi parang kanin na mainit na basta mo na lamang iluluwa kapag napaso ka".

We haven't even begun or married life and here we are, already fighting our asses off. Maybe because things are a lot more complicated. Because there's a baby on the way. Because our families' values are worlds apart. Because we can't seem to get on the same line, same train of thought -- which is a wonder because before all of this chaos happened, we were always on the same line; we can finish each other's sentence. What the hell happened?

Honesty is cruel, but here's me being honest: I regret not using any form of birth control. Because frankly, I'm not ready to be a mother. I am too selfish to be one at this point. And I fear that this selfishness will lead my child astray. And I do not want that, because screwing up my own life is one thing, but screwing up this precious, innocent one's life is another, because he/she does not deserve it. So here I am, trying to be brave, strong, and all those adjectives that one needs to muster to be able to wake up everyday without having the need to blow their heads into smithereens.

And now, here we are, still trying to mash together, to please our families who seem to grow up from two very, very different worlds. It's like a war. And I'm the middle of it. And I don't have a gun. But I have to fight. And all I have is this comrade who's also confused and torn between the two fighting parties.

How did this get so messy? So telenovela-like?

If I have to do it alone, I'd do it. Just so I won't have to impose anything on anyone and burden them with my being. Just so I won't be disappointed when he fails to fulfill the needs of a soon-to-be father. Just so I don't hurt anyone. Anyone, but myself. Because it's easier to forgive me hurting me, than to forgive me hurting someone else. Especially when that someone else is the one that I love the most.

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Now playing: The Weepies

I remember it was my cousin's nth birthday. It was a big party, with lots of kids and balloons and games. It wasn't a particularly special birthday but I remembered feeling very happy after it. The next day, our grandma woke us up early. Her eyes were kind of swollen, but being a kid, I just pegged it as too much/less sleep. She sat us down in front of the telly and let us watch cartoons on it. And when we were on the funniest bit of the toon, she stepped in front and told us that our dad died. He was supposed to come home that day. And he did. But in a coffin.

Every year after his death, I write this story. Because I do not want to forget. Because forgetting him would mean forgetting our great times together; forgetting him would be forgetting my best friend.
I no longer feel sad when I write about the day we lost him. It's true that any loss, any void can be refilled. It may not be the same material of what was lost, but nevertheless, it is refilled. I do not want to say replace because I would never want to replace him. Because he and his death has taught me so much. Mostly about death, but most importantly about love and life.

I refused to see this before -- the loss of him has clouded my thinking, blocked all positive things: His death has brought upon me so much that without him dying, I wouldn't be this person. In a way, losing him was good, because then I found myself.

So here's to a celebration of your life through me, dad. Here's to the memories and stories that you have imparted to me. Here's to meeting you again soon.

Here's to faith. Here's to love. Here's to you.

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Now playing: Dance With My Father Again

The Porcupine's Dilemma

When I said that I have abandonment issues, I was not quoting Meredith Grey nor was I trying to be this vulnerable and fragile girl so men can fawn over me. I have had this perpetual fear of dying alone in my apartment where my cats would nibble on my face. I don't have cats, but I have that fear anyways. And I have this person, who's getting close, too close, so much closer than I have let anyone in, and I started to depend on him and I hate depending on anyone. Because this is not me, because I have always been proud of being able to get by life with just me.

In times like these, I wish my dad hadn't died. Because, really, it all started there. Someone that I really love and admire died - left - and my bubble of certainty burst and I was suddenly pushed out into the world, not knowing what to do, how to act, what to say and just literally, not knowing how to deal with feelings and people and feelings for people. I mean, is this normal? Am I really supposed to depend on this other person? Or is it just because someone was finally here? But what do I do when the person suddenly disappears? Do I feel this way because I'm a spoiled bitch? Like, when you give me something, I expect you to continue giving it to me until I tell you to stop? Regardless of whether this is normal or not, how do I make this stop?

"Don't make me feel safe and then just abandon me." - Charlie, Girls