SO I KNOW.

October 11, 2007 at 10:53 pm | Filed under joyful girl, mr wonderful, the helga manual

So I don’t know, I guess this is me dealing quickly and getting over the initial giddiness of it all. No, it’s not me treating it as if it were some sort of novelty, because it’s not. It’s actually very “rock and roll!!!” as what Mr Supervisor would say, and did say. To put it in my own words, it’s all…lovely yet puzzling (because I’m not as consumed by it as I was in the past, maybe). And I’m actually quite surprised that I didn’t start nitpicking the whole thing and tearing it apart, like, three seconds after. All right, I admit: I did. But I did myself a favor and told myself to save it for another day.

So I don’t know, this is me typing fast and typing fast whatever comes to mind. When I was 17, I had an I-could-love-you-comma-the-whole-of-you (his words to me) kind of thing with this guy who told me to write in red and edit in white. Red anger, white anger. It made a lot of sense back then, until things turned sour between us and I realized that there was nothing to be angry (or sad. Just regretful) about. And now I’m typing fast and not editing and it’s not out of anger. I actually think it’s the sugar or the caffeine or this insane sense of urgency of wanting everything to happen all at once. And maybe or definitely something more.

So I don’t know, I’m trying to unlearn certain habits and certain character flaws that are totally manageable and ditchable if only I weren’t such a pussy or if only I weren’t so overprotective of myself. It’s not something that I can help, especially when this past year or so, people (who know and barely know me) have been telling me to “guard your heart”, “leave something for yourself”, “don’t settle”, “steel bars to the chest!” and other variations of the same thought. Not like I really needed to be told those things, as I’m the sort of person who can easily dismiss things and emotions and people…and that’s, like, really bad. I’ve been meaning to get rid of the self-absorbed brat in me, but it’s kinda difficult when being emotionally distant is one’s defense mechanism.

So I don’t know, it’s an amalgam of a bunch of emotions that I don’t know where the hell they came from and that I’m not used to and I feel like I’m thisclose to throwing in the proverbial towel because I can’t deal or I’m not sure that I want to deal with it. It’s rrrreally scary because the last thing I want is to hurtle through this and not be in control of…things.

So I don’t know, it’s funny— at the same time, I find myself not caring if I lose control and I don’t mind that it’s something bigger than I am. Nope, not at all. I feel like a schoolgirl, giggly and giddy. And then I feel bad for being such a ditz. And then I feel bad because it feels like I’m playing a game. And then I feel worse because I tell myself that I should be playing a game. To protect myself. But what’s there to protect myself from? It’s love! It’s my red hot beating heart, skipping a beat and beating faster! But my heart is an idiot, I remind myself. But it’s love! And the thought of him loving me, too— even if I don’t feel it (because I’m taking things at face value), even if I don’t feel it as much as I want to feel it (because I’m taking things at face value), even if I refuse to feel it— makes me feel tingly and lightheaded and happy and candy sprinkles-y.

So I don’t know, sometimes I feel bad because I don’t know what this is or what I’m getting into and for feeling like it’s not enough. Years ago, I cried through most of Wong Kar Wai’s 2046 because the movie hit too close to home. There’s this line from the movie: Love is a matter of timing. It’s no good meeting the right person too soon or too late. I just realized yesterday what Phil realized two years ago: it’s not love that’s a matter of timing, but relationships. It works perfectly for me.

So I don’t know, I’m also a bit sad and paranoid and I’m chalking that up to eventual saudade and something else I can’t quite put my finger on and maybe I’m just being silly (silly, not stupid), feeling the need to be like Sylvia: 1 — I will not overwhelm him by breathless over-enthusiasm. 2 — I will not throw myself at him physically. 3 — I will be moderate, yet intense and interested. In a way, this is me pre-empting myself because the whole situation is suspiciously like this Gavin DeGraw song which kinda sucks, so I’ll just shrug it off and quote a line from my favorite DeGraw song, instead: You’re so hypnotic on my heart.

So I don’t know, this is kinda nice. Loved (not just fucked!) incoherent. Loving incoherently.

I guess I was wrong when I thought: hey, this is weird, I’m not so consumed.

EDIT.
STEEL: It’s nice to know you’re starting to better understand and get a hold of your feelings. You’re not a heartless wench like I used to think you are after all.
STEEL: Ditz translation: GHEIZ00R

Which got me thinking: what is this GHEIZ00R that Satan Steel speaks of? So I checked the dictionary and found this visual definition:

Cool.

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TOP OF THE WORLD-ISH.

October 10, 2007 at 12:52 am | Filed under joyful girl, mr wonderful

Photo courtesy of BatDesignz.

It’s a bit foreign and scary and loads perplexing, but I’m amazed and pleasantly surprised. Who would’ve thought?

Someone emotionally-available, for a change.

Edit//
FORGIVE ME IF THIS ENTRY REEKS OF GAY, AS STEEL (whom I will defenestrate the next time I see him) POINTED OUT:

Steel aka Man. Rude. Evil.: Someone from the past. And WTF is up with your new blog post? It reeks with GAY!

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WEEKLY CONVERSATIONS BETWEEN IMAGINED CHARACTERS.

October 5, 2007 at 10:01 pm | Filed under the helga manual

Hi, guys, I’d like you to meet:

STAN, short for SATAN

HOLLY, short for HIJOLLHANDHA MAE

Stan and Holly are good friends, or so Stan would like to believe. Secretly though, Holly hates Stan’s good-looking guts because he is t3h g31g450m3. Often, Holly wishes she were Stan. But less gay.

On an almost daily basis, Stan pesters the shittles out of Holly, e-mailing her photos of Ricky Martin on the beach with his gay lover, LOLcats in glasses, and links to various how-to-give-a-good-rim-job and how-to-apply-purple-eyeliner-perfectly websites. He also hurts her very fragile “feelings” by calling her a fat bully.

A gay nerd and a fat bully. No wonder they understand each other so well.

HOLLY: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT A PUSSY, THAT STAN GUY IS.
HOLLY: Also, can you access Facebook?

STAN: Not with our office’s security. And Facebook is not fond of proxies.
STAN: I thought the Melchor guy’s flying back to Bangladesh?

HOLLY: Not yet not yet! He’s extended, but I don’t know when ‘til. He doesn’t, either. Oh well. Not that attached. Although he mentioned that he’s starting to question a certain aspect of his life. But I know he’s not the kind of person who’d leave something as official as that.

STAN: So what are you thinking then? Are you probably hoping he’ll somehow change his mind and stay with you instead?

HOLLY: Uh, how about no? I’m not thinking of what’s going to happen eventually. Just enjoying the Right Now. We’re pretty honest with each other when it comes to these things (we don’t talk about emotions and stuff, though. He doesn’t, cos he said he doesn’t want to freak me out or scare me off. I don’t, because…well, I don’t have emotions to speak of anyways). It’ll make me sad when he leaves, yeah, but I knew from the very beginning what I was getting into. I also know that there’s going to be more men after him.

STAN: You’re definitely something else.
STAN: But what if he’s the one who gets clingy? Dun dun dunnnn…
STAN: Also, I’m eating rice with egg and ginataang kalabasa WHILE ON A CALL. Am I badass or what? And melon milk.

HOLLY: I’d take the rice and egg. Long call? I wish we could eat at our stations. Bastards.
HOLLY: If he gets clingy, then okay. I’ve dealt with clingy before.
HOLLY: Sigh. Two more hours.

STAN: Do you see yourself having a husband and kids in the future?
STAN: And I’m Ricky Lo.

HOLLY: Yes, of course. Dude, it would be awesome to get married, like, rightaboutnow. But I don’t have a concrete idea yet of what kind of person I want and such. So that’s pretty dangerous thinking right there.

STAN: You wont. You’ll just feel that he’s the right one, regardless of what kind of person he might be.

And just like that, Stan gains 15exp and levels up to become a Level 435 Faggornaut.

HOLLY: Dalshim or Dhalsim? How do you spell his name again? But to answer your question, nope. I can do a HADOUKEN!, though.

STAN: Im emailing Dan1el Salap0ng this thread right now. He can do yoga fire I heard.

HOLLY: WHO IS SAPOLONG ANYWAY? CAN I SUCK HIS COCK?

STAN: That’s SALAPONG. Sapolong is what you had for dinner last night.
STAN: Hey is Hairspray good? I’m verrrry interested in seeing Travolta in drag.

Once again and just like that, Stan gains 68exp and levels up to 436.

*Note: this imaginary conversation between the two imaginary characters was imagined three weeks ago.

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MOM. FACEBOOK, FTW!

October 3, 2007 at 10:57 pm | Filed under the internets

“You don’t get me, babe. YOUR MOM KNOWS HOW TO GOOGLE YOUR ASS. Your blog is all about alcohol and sex. Lol.”

Comforting words from the mancandy up there, when I frantically texted this morning to tell him that my mom has discovered the wonderful world wide web. Here is a woman who— a few months ago— used to ask me to log in to her gmail account, read out loud e-mails from her sisters, and then act as her secretary as she dictated to me her replies. Here is a woman who— this morning— was having trouble figuring out the AC’s remote control. And now she has a Friendster account! Yes! I set it up for her this morning. And for the record, I did it while she held a gun to my head.

Other comforting reactions by fellow bloggers when I broadcasted my predicament over Twitter:

Ade: Well, imagine how I felt when I found out that five of my aunts read my blog.
Steel: While you’re at it, why not invite your mom on twitter? Or set her up a blog! Lolz blogging whattaghei!
Ade: Dun forget warbook!

I have a feeling my dad’s behind all this. I imagine their conversations during the drive home to be like this:

Just so you guys know, she was curious about Twitter and Facebook, too.

There’s this glimmer of hope that my mom didn’t actually “google” my name. I think she merely Yahoo-ed it: she mentioned that when she searched for my name, the first thing that came up was “Helga, Philippines, Miriam College. How do I open that?”, which definitely sounded like a snippet of my Friendster account.

(She didn’t react well to my Friendster primary photo— me, holding a bottle of Tanduay. Imagine how’d she react if she found my blog. QUE HORROR!)

Anyhoots, I’m hooked on Facebook. Save for today, the first thing I do when I go on-line now is check my Facebook account, check my Warbook kingdom, and then ask people to assrape the asshats who assraped me while I was offline. I am a silly Level 7 Magician (talk about total gaynage; I should’ve chosen to be a Visionary) with a weak army and a puny kingdom. But I shall be a barbarian and a tyrant! One day! 0ne day!

KK, back to Warbook. And if you’re on FB and haven’t added me yet: add me! And send me those cute Eyesores, please.

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