Love and Lies

As I write this, somewhere in the metropolis a heart is grieving for love untimely lost.

Yesterday, I woke up to what I thought would be another ordinary day. But before lunch was even through, news came to me of a friend’s tragedy. Her heart had been broken, her love taken away without even so much as a warning.

Her name was Happiness — or at least that’s what she was back then. She was with a guy we all admired. He was tall, fair-skinned and handsome. He had qualities belonging only to the man of your dreams: he was nice, kind, funny and a gentleman in every sense of the word. They’d been together for as long as I could remember. In fact, they were that kind of couple that you wouldn’t refer to one without also mentioning the other. They were inseparable. And so we grew accustomed to such inseparability.

Having been together so long, it was only opportune that they marry someday, if not soon. Just as they were already planning their wedding, he suddenly decided to break it up.

They were in the car travelling home one night. They had just celebrated their anniversary a few days before. On the way, he suddenly parked the car at the shoulder and confessed “I don’t love you anymore. I’m sorry.” And with a pat on the shoulder, he returned to Happiness the plans for their wedding.

But he wasn’t telling the entire truth.

His change of heart was because of another girl who stealthily plotted her way into his heart and alienated his emotions from Happiness. Another girl snaked her way in between two lovers in such an effective manner that she was able to ruin a relationship within a short span of time.

Happiness she was no more.

As a friend, I was flabbergasted. I could not have imagined, never in a billion years, that he was capable of such an atrocity. He of the angelic face, soft-spoken and gentle-mannered ways. I would have rather learned that he had succumbed to a single night’s infidelity than for him to actually break her heart and leave her. She was, after all, his Happiness.

It is truly an unfortunate event that has befallen my friends. I grieve for her loss and I am disappointed by his palpable mistake. It is even sadder that he has not seen the error of his ways. Perhaps, it is too early for him to realize so. But I am unsure if things could ever go back to the way it was. Sometimes, change is not necessarily good.

I grieve for broken hearts.

In the name of the father…

It’s father’s day today. So  here’s a big holler to all the fathers out there.

My father was the first one I greeted today when I woke up at ten in the morning. Hey, it’s the weekend, so I get to sleep in late. My dad’s not really very communicative. When I called him up this morning, there were no tearful “I love you dad” or “You’re the best dad!” He’s the kind to say “Thank you” and then move on to the next topic. He’s not really emotional. I used to think I got that from him. When I was a kid, I wasn’t the type to get easily carried away by my emotions. But as I grew older, I was fighting hard not to cry at mushy movie scenes. So, I suppose, my mother’s gene came through.

Unlike others, I wouldn’t claim that my father’s perfect. He’s just like any other human being: he’s flawed. I’ll be the first to attest to that. Of course, there was a time when I thought my dad was superman. I mean, he certainly could drive like a speeding bullet. But I suppose even superman has some frailties. After all, he is susceptible to the weakening powers of kryptonite.

It wasn’t too long ago when I first learned of my father’s indiscretion and it’s permanent effect. It was during the summer back when I was in college. One night, he called me over and casually dropped the bomb on me, as if talking about it was as normal as talking about the weather. He explained why he did it…but of course, I didn’t buy that excuse. He promised he wouldn’t do that again, saying my mother deserved nothing but the best that he could give her. And yet, years later, another confession, another permanent effect.

I used to be mad at him, for doing what he did when he said he wouldn’t. But before long, I realized it wouldn’t do me any good. He is my father, after all. No matter what happened, it doesn’t change that fact. If my mother could forgive me, there was no reason why I shouldn’t.

Despite his flaws, I find that he’s tried hard to be a good father to me. And for this, I think he’s the best dad in the world.

Commitment problems

As should have been obvious to the casual observer, I have some problems about commitment.

First of all, since the start of this blogging attempt, I haven’t really been consistent with writing articles every week or even every month, at the least. Sometimes, the blogging bug hits me and I write two or three articles in just one sitting. On some days, I couldn’t even be bothered to lift a finger and open the laptop. In truth, it all depends upon the mood.

Secondly, I think I’ve been quite vocal about being non-committal, of course, only to an extent. In my article “Cheating is all in the mind,” I’ve narrated how I’ve had a semi-emotional affair with another while I was significantly involved with a man.

Finally, as can be seen between the date  this article is written and the last entry in this blog, it’s been quite a while since I’ve thought about writing.

In any case, I’m here now — writing. So I suppose this should make up for the lost time. After all, my life’s really not that exciting to write in detail for the world to read. =D

So, since I’m already here, let me tell you what I’ve been busy with…

1. I’m glad Conan O’Brien is finally back on tv — again. Finally, I can stop pretending to like the Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. The only thing I like in that show is when they sing the news.

2. I’ve been on vacation, seen the Pacific Ocean for the first time and took some pictures. Check out my flickr page in this blog. It’s not much but I just can’t get over what a marvelous world this is (well, most of the time.)

3. I’ve been addicted (together with my husband) to True Blood. I’ve seen the books by Charlaine Harris and restrained myself from buying the book set. All I really need is just another series to keep my mind from my job (teehee!). Still, I think it’s uncannily similar to Twilight except that this time, it’s the girl who can read minds and she can’t read her vampire’s mind. Other than that, the plot’s almost the same. And yet, despite that, I still like this one better. Maybe it’s because of the acting prowess the actors show. Advice to Twilight lead stars: please, for the love of all that’s holy, SHOW SOME FREAKIN’ EMOTIONS. But I have a feeling I’m about to be disappointed again with the New Moon movie. Oh well, at least there’s True Blood.

3. I’ve been busy with work stuff, yuck! I’ve had to get my hands dirty with ballot boxes and ballots which show nothing but that the teachers should not have been allowed to teach and voters should not have been allowed to vote. People really don’t know what they’re doing sometimes.

4. I’ve prepared my course outline for this semester. The first semester for law school begins next week. Here come the headaches and the annoying stupid questions. Why do I do it, you ask. Just for the heck of it. I mean, without that, what would I have to write about? Besides, I like to see law students make fools of themselves. It’s almost a form of vengeance for the times I’ve made a fool of myself back when I was in law school. Maybe I’ve come full circle. Hah!

5.  I’ve started getting in on Facebook’s Farm Town, Yoville and Pet Society. I know, I know! I’m lightyears behind. Still, I like it. After playing Pet Society, I just want to buy my own pet. I’ve Googled dog breeds and decided I’m gonna get me an English Cocker Spaniel — in my dreams, of course! My husband, his family and their house wouldn’t allow it. I swear, the minute I get a place of our own, I’m going to buy a damn dog whether hubby likes it or not! hmp.

6. I’ve been hearing a lot about Twitter. So I checked it out. I registered. And then I returned to Facebook. Twitter’s for the self-absorbed person who thinks the world revolves around every move she makes and every breath she takes.  I don’t think I love myself that much.

Hopefully, I’ll have more time and inspiration to write other helpful articles for this blog. And I hope somebody out there is still reading this crappy blog.

See y’all!

Pacquiao happens

In just the span of two rounds, Manny “Pacman” Pacquiao has effectively knocked out Ricky “Hitman” Hatton.  It was the third time he fell after experiencing Pacman’s punch. The first time Hitman met Pacman’s punch, you could see in his eyes he was already wondering why he was even fighting. By the second round, after receiving Manny’s left hook in his right jaw, with two arms raised, Hitman fell on his back, could not even open his eyes. By the time he was seated upright, he looked like he didn’t even know where he was or what hit him. That ought to shut him up and his coach.

Perhaps, having been humiliated so soon in the fight, Hitman has refused to be interviewed. Meanwhile, in his imperfect English, Pacquiao basked in the victorious glow while talking to Mario Lopez, who can’t help but drop that he had trained with Manny at the Wild Card Gym. What is it with winning that other people suddenly feel like they have something common with you?

Pacquiao is the only one I know to whose performance Hollywood stars (read: Mariah Carey, Mark Wahlberg, P. Diddy!) had come to watch. He’s the real superstar. Charisse Pempengco should learn something from him, not the least of which should be the humility.

Cheating is all in the mind

I’ve always been the kind to stick to one man at a time back when I was single. I’ve known (and still know) guys who dupe their girlfriends/wives by having affairs left and right. While I do not pass judgment upon them, I, of course, do not condone the act. I’ve just come to accept that cheating is part of normal human life, although I’ve promised myself never to commit the same mistake.

Today, however, after reading an article on Shine, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’ve actually been guilty of the very crime I vowed I’d never commit.

As the title of the article itself readily shows, “Ways to let go of an Emotional Love Affair” provides means for overcoming the “addiction.” While there is nothing in the whole article which directly tells you if you’re having an affair with another, there are, nonetheless, helpful hints.

The first tell-tale sign of being emotionally involved with another person is the fact that one incessantly thinks of him/her (hopefully not while driving the car or talking to the boss). Such obsession leads the person from effectively performing daily tasks, e.g., remaining faithful to your actual girl/boyfriend or wife/husband.

If conjuring up images of the besotted one is the only activity which seems to brighten up your day, this is likewise another sign that you’re hung up on another person. Obviously, your “legal” significant other no longer sends up shivers on your spine at this point. According to the article, being in such a state of “affairs” is a way of escaping loneliness.

The entire article is helpful as it understands that quitting an emotional love affair cannot be simply done cold turkey. There are steps to follow for the sick at heart.

Let me just state for the record that I am a happily married person. Spine shivers no longer occur daily at the sight of the husband but I understand that true love isn’t what pocketbooks say it is. But I do remember a time when I may have been significantly involved with one person and yet intellectually pre-occupied with another. Of course, at the time that this emotional attachment with another person occurred, I was still legally single (although, as I have said, significantly involved).

The other person was not one I’d ever consider attractive. His physical attributes surely wouldn’t have led to the improvement of the gene pool – well, at least not on my side. But it was his intellect which appealed to me. After more than enough late night conversations with him, I’d begun to think of him differently.

It lasted for a while, the so-called affair. I wouldn’t be so sure as to call it a love affair. I mean, I wouldn’t have said the  three oft-abused words to his face even if my life depended on it. But there was something there – at least, intellectually.

The entire thing was just all in the mind, shared though it may have been by two persons.  Thankfully, it did not lead us into something we both would have regretted later on. But it did leave a mark, as chicken pox does to one’s skin.