Archive for September, 2011


Elevator

I got myself a cup of coffee. While in the elevator I suddenly thought of you. I did not want to welcome it because I know when I start, I’ll find it hard to stop again. I have not been good at fighting or waiting…but you are just so good at hiding that I just got tired of playing the game.

In the past few weeks I’ve been waiting for you impatiently everyday like how I’ve waited for the elevator of this building–with urgency, with necessity, like life’s possibilities will only come true once the waiting stops. And isn’t that a little too desperate? I know it is for me. So don’t expect me to like myself in this state and don’t expect me to like you in this state.

If we keep on hiding from each other, then let’s accept the ending of something we can’t even start. If  we spend all our energies fighting feelings we think we should not say out loud, then probably we really shouldn’t. I’m tired. I believe I did my part. At least I can sleep tonight and tell myself, I did not fight my heart but at some point, I knew I had to save it.

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by:  Haruki Murakami

One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo’s fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl.

Tell you the truth, she’s not that good-looking. She doesn’t stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn’t young, either – must be near thirty, not even close to a “girl,” properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She’s the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there’s a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.

Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl – one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you’re drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I’ll catch myself staring at the girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of her nose.

But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can’t recall the shape of hers – or even if she had one. All I can remember for sure is that she was no great beauty. It’s weird.

“Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl,” I tell someone.

“Yeah?” he says. “Good-looking?”

“Not really.”

“Your favorite type, then?”

“I don’t know. I can’t seem to remember anything about her – the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts.”

“Strange.”

“Yeah. Strange.”

“So anyhow,” he says, already bored, “what did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?”

“Nah. Just passed her on the street.”

She’s walking east to west, and I west to east. It’s a really nice April morning.

Wish I could talk to her. Half an hour would be plenty: just ask her about herself, tell her about myself, and – what I’d really like to do – explain to her the complexities of fate that have led to our passing each other on a side street in Harajuku on a beautiful April morning in 1981. This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock build when peace filled the world.

After talking, we’d have lunch somewhere, maybe see a Woody Allen movie, stop by a hotel bar for cocktails. With any kind of luck, we might end up in bed.

Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.

Now the distance between us has narrowed to fifteen yards.

How can I approach her? What should I say?

“Good morning, miss. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation?”

Ridiculous. I’d sound like an insurance salesman.

“Pardon me, but would you happen to know if there is an all-night cleaners in the neighborhood?”

No, this is just as ridiculous. I’m not carrying any laundry, for one thing. Who’s going to buy a line like that?

Maybe the simple truth would do. “Good morning. You are the 100% perfect girl for me.”

No, she wouldn’t believe it. Or even if she did, she might not want to talk to me. Sorry, she could say, I might be the 100% perfect girl for you, but you’re not the 100% boy for me. It could happen. And if I found myself in that situation, I’d probably go to pieces. I’d never recover from the shock. I’m thirty-two, and that’s what growing older is all about.

We pass in front of a flower shop. A small, warm air mass touches my skin. The asphalt is damp, and I catch the scent of roses. I can’t bring myself to speak to her. She wears a white sweater, and in her right hand she holds a crisp white envelope lacking only a stamp. So: She’s written somebody a letter, maybe spent the whole night writing, to judge from the sleepy look in her eyes. The envelope could contain every secret she’s ever had.

I take a few more strides and turn: She’s lost in the crowd.

Now, of course, I know exactly what I should have said to her. It would have been a long speech, though, far too long for me to have delivered it properly. The ideas I come up with are never very practical.

Oh, well. It would have started “Once upon a time” and ended “A sad story, don’t you think?”

Once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl. The boy was eighteen and the girl sixteen. He was not unusually handsome, and she was not especially beautiful. They were just an ordinary lonely boy and an ordinary lonely girl, like all the others. But they believed with their whole hearts that somewhere in the world there lived the 100% perfect boy and the 100% perfect girl for them. Yes, they believed in a miracle. And that miracle actually happened.

One day the two came upon each other on the corner of a street.

“This is amazing,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you all my life. You may not believe this, but you’re the 100% perfect girl for me.”

“And you,” she said to him, “are the 100% perfect boy for me, exactly as I’d pictured you in every detail. It’s like a dream.”

They sat on a park bench, held hands, and told each other their stories hour after hour. They were not lonely anymore. They had found and been found by their 100% perfect other. What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other. It’s a miracle, a cosmic miracle.

As they sat and talked, however, a tiny, tiny sliver of doubt took root in their hearts: Was it really all right for one’s dreams to come true so easily?

And so, when there came a momentary lull in their conversation, the boy said to the girl, “Let’s test ourselves – just once. If we really are each other’s 100% perfect lovers, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again without fail. And when that happens, and we know that we are the 100% perfect ones, we’ll marry then and there. What do you think?”

“Yes,” she said, “that is exactly what we should do.”

And so they parted, she to the east, and he to the west.

The test they had agreed upon, however, was utterly unnecessary. They should never have undertaken it, because they really and truly were each other’s 100% perfect lovers, and it was a miracle that they had ever met. But it was impossible for them to know this, young as they were. The cold, indifferent waves of fate proceeded to toss them unmercifully.

One winter, both the boy and the girl came down with the season’s terrible influenza, and after drifting for weeks between life and death they lost all memory of their earlier years. When they awoke, their heads were as empty as the young D. H. Lawrence’s piggy bank.

They were two bright, determined young people, however, and through their unremitting efforts they were able to acquire once again the knowledge and feeling that qualified them to return as full-fledged members of society. Heaven be praised, they became truly upstanding citizens who knew how to transfer from one subway line to another, who were fully capable of sending a special-delivery letter at the post office. Indeed, they even experienced love again, sometimes as much as 75% or even 85% love.

Time passed with shocking swiftness, and soon the boy was thirty-two, the girl thirty.

One beautiful April morning, in search of a cup of coffee to start the day, the boy was walking from west to east, while the girl, intending to send a special-delivery letter, was walking from east to west, but along the same narrow street in the Harajuku neighborhood of Tokyo. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew:

She is the 100% perfect girl for me.

He is the 100% perfect boy for me.

But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fourteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever.

A sad story, don’t you think?

Yes, that’s it, that is what I should have said to her.

waiting…

“If pain must come, may it come quickly. Because I have a life to live, and I need to live it in the best way possible. If he has to make a choice, may he make it now. Then I will either wait for him or forget him. Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering.”

– Pilar, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept (Paulo Coelho)

I have a brain..i just want you to know. Just in case there are some out there who think I only write the silly beatings of a hopeful sometimes hopeless heart.

I have a brain but whatever’s in it, I make sure I say out loud. I make sure it’s known by everyone who needs to know. But there are moments when it needs to rest. Even if I don’t want to sometimes, the heart usually takes over and this is the only way I can let everything out and the only way I can let it indulge in short moments of truth and confessions so I won’t totally break it apart.

(…because most of the time I just find it wanting to scream, curse, cry from pain or jump, scream and sing and dance from happiness.)

I have a brain but I trust it can take care of itself but I have a heart too–a big heart that needs someone to think for it.

Magic Moment

“Every day, God gives us the sun – and also one moment in which we have the ability to change everything that makes us unhappy. Every day, we try to pretend that we haven’t perceived the moment, that it doesn’t exist – that today is the same as yesterday and will be the same as tomorrow. But if people really pay attention in their everyday lives, they will discover that magic moment. It may arrive in the instant when we are doing something mundane, like putting our front-door key in the lock; it may lie hidden in the quiet that follows the lunch hour or in the thousand and one things that all seems the same to us. But that moment exists – a moment when all the power of the stars becomes a part of us and enables us to perform miracles.”

 

– By the River Piedra, I Sat Down and Wept, Paulo Coelho

“To love is to be in communion with the other and to discover in that other the spark of God. ” – By the River Piedra, I Sat Down and Wept, Paulo Coelho

This is a beautiful realization today as I sit here once again with the same heavy feelings from the contradiction of my mind and heart and choosing over pride and happiness. I’m glad it’s slowly getting easier to decide day by day. Maybe it would be easier to convince my heart if I just think of him as a stranger or a random person who came, just to pass by and not to stay.

I have been stubborn, thinking you were the answer to my prayers. But I searched inside my heart, I didn’t find any answer that comes with these confusion or with a sad feeling of not knowing if it was the right time or person or if the other person will ever recognize my heart.

So today, I remind myself of my prayer. I believe God is listening. I believe God does not skimp on His blessings. I believe that I will indeed recognize Him once I ‘meet’ the answer to my prayers.

this has got to be IT!

At some point, this has got to end. I think this is it–the point of letting all possibilities go. The acceptance that it’s not worth it to continue feeling the way I do. There had been too much confusion but I know that it’s all just my fault. I’ll end everything here, I’ll end whatever it is that Fate did not even allow us to start.

Until God…Fate decides

Nothing is permanent in life or absolute.

Everything changes and evolves. Within the blink of an eye, what was there can be gone, who was there can leave. And the moment we realize that our whole world crushes and falls down because it caught us unaware, lost, broke, full of regrets, fear and sometimes anger.

Everything flashes back like an old classic movie–but the actors were us and the story was not fiction and the regrets and wish to turn back time are all REAL.

But we can never turn back time, we can never undo what was done or do what was not done because time and regrets are cruel. They can never kill us, worst they keep us living with the thought of having done things in a different way.

Let’s not live with regrets or hopes of turning back time or wish of changing fate. Because it’s true that nothing is permanent and absolute in this world until God, Fate decides.

(All my love, my prayers, my sufferings I offer to God for my Mommy Aba. She’s a mother to me as well in every possible way.Please take care of her.Give us more time to make her happy and to not live with regrets.)

(I just found this while randomly searching in google.Nice one!)

 

“If you see me walking with someone else,

It’s not because I like his company

It’s because you’re not brave enough to walk beside me…

If you hear me talking about him all the time,

It’s not because he pleases me,

It’s because you’re too deaf to hear my heartbeat…

If you feel me falling with someone new,

It’s not because I love him,

It’s because you’re not there to catch me if I fall…

If you feel lost,

I too am nowhere,

I too don’t know where the road is goin…”

Are we gonna cross each other’s path,

or just completely turn around?

Will we just let go of what we had

or go to the place where love is bound…

Don’t let me walk with him, it’s you I want to walk with.

Don’t let me fall for him, it’s you I want to fall in love with.

When you thought I wasn’t brave enough to walk beside you, I was behind you every step of the way.

When you thought I was too deaf to hear your heartbeat, I didn’t want to assume anything. And I was afraid to lose our friendship.

When you thought I wasn’t there to catch you, it was because you never gave me the chance.”

Delusions

Dear God,

Is this the answer? Or is this the moment I forgot to wait patiently again? I have so many questions and there are too many uncertainties. One moment I was laughing and one moment I was rationalizing things. I don’t have any assurance. I don’t have any proofs–just this sudden feeling of celebration that will later on be followed by doubts, sadness and then endless confusion and longing for answers. And then I’d feel cheated, stupid, led on like some women in the movies who always fall hopelessly with the wrong person.

Whenever I pray for it. I always tell You, that I hope I decide with my mind and my heart. I hope I decide like a thinking woman inlove–lucid, sensible, incandescently happy. I hope I prove to the world that not all women go stupidly crazy over love.

If this is not the answer. If I were not his answer either. Let this atleast end in friendship.

So please…

Don’t make me feel that I have to fight all these, that I allow myself to feel this way against my better judgement.I know that I am prone to delusions but I’d like to believe these are all beyond that.

Please don’t make me guess or make me feel silly everytime my heart skips at your simple ‘hi.’ Please don’t make me feel that this is a moment in between or just for the meantime. My heart can’t last another game of hide and seek. Please don’t hide in pronouns and phrases.

Don’t make me feel this way. Don’t make me ask my mind not to fight my heart. My mind is my comrade and I do not want to fight this battle without her. If all these feelings are not intended for me, then let me stop claiming them. Don’t make my world a little bit better and happier if my reasons were all just delusions.