NOOOO!!!

August 15, 2006 at 3:38 am | Filed under a waste of human capital, bitchin' a ride, breaking up the girl

This sucks this sucks this sucks. My schedule for work changes again next week. I’ll be in the 4am to 1pm shift.

 D’s in the 7pm to 4am shift.

It’s been a convenient past two weeks, having the same shift as him. AND NOW! AND NOW! I dreaded this would happen. He was like, “Nah, it won’t” the first time I brought it up. AND NOW! AND NOW!!!

I asked my superviosr if I can stay in the 7pm to 4am shift still. But it’s gonna be complicated and stuff, so I’ll be getting preferred days off/rest days instead. ARGH!!!

HOW TO MAKE THIS WORK!!!

:cry:

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AWOL AWOL AWOL AWOL

August 3, 2006 at 5:09 am | Filed under a waste of human capital, bitchin' a ride, breaking up the girl, the world as a man

I hate my job.

I FUCKING HATE MY JOB.

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BOUNCING BACK ON DAISIES

July 31, 2006 at 5:59 am | Filed under breaking up the girl, joyful girl, technicolor lover

Saturday, my heart was breaking. Sleepy from three and a half frozen margaritas at one in the afternoon; sitting on concrete bleachers, my best friend to my left, and his girlfriend next to the person to my right. She had walked passed me, throwing smiles at everyone. I had turned to my best friend; quietly, I said: “Shit, she’s here. Shit, she’s here.”

The game starts. D gets the ball, prepares to take a shot. Our friend Camilo yells out, with the hugest grin on his face: “Sinong kasama mo kagabi!” (Trans: Who were you with last night!). This distracts him. He misses.

Our group stands up to move to the other side of the stadium for a better view. I beg the best friend to come with me. “I need to smoke. Crap, I want to get out of here.” Fuck, I don’t even watch basketball.

We finish our cigarettes, walk back inside, and take our seats. It starts raining and I am trapped.

The people next to me keep on screaming “Go DJ!” and “It’s a good thing the girlfriend’s here!” everytime he has the ball, everytime he’s about to take a shot. My heart is breaking; in my head, I am chanting Ely’s words: Suck it up, Helga, you’re a pro. My eyes stare blankly ahead, refusing to look at him, not wanting to see the smile on his face.

The best friend and I leave as soon as the game ends. I am ranting and bitter the whole ride back to Quezon City. D texts me: “Where are you going? Thanks for watching.” My friends tell me: “DO NOT REPLY! MAKE HIM BEG! DO NOT ANSWER HIS CALLS!”

I stop by the grocery on my way home. Six pm with a bottle of vodka, a bottle of Sprite, and a fresh pack of cigarettes. The alcohol is terrible, I do not finish my drink. I am ignoring D’s numerous messages and calls.

Sunday morning, 8am. Allah and I spend the dreary morning reading (I, Michael Moore’s Stupid White Men; Allah, Margaret Atwood’s Catseye), smoking, and reading out loud to each other from our respective books.

Early afternoon, we turn the TV on for our Sunday guilty pleasure (SOP Gigsters— so kill me now, Mark Herras is hot). My phone beeps.

D: Are you really not going to text me? I know you’re up watching Gigsters. What’s up?

It is the cutest thing ever and Allah, Anna, and I burst out laughing. I am mad and hurt, but I am amused and giddy over the fact that he remembers I religiously watch that tacky teenybopper fun show.

I tell him how I feel. And that he should’ve told me DJ was going to be at the game, because I wouldn’t have gone. “I told you I was going to watch. Or do you get a kick out of seeing the two of us at the same place at the same time?”

He claims he didn’t know she’d be there. She was supposed to have an exam for a company, and when he found out she could make it, he didn’t have credits in his phone to tell me. And what did he do wrong? It’s not like he told those people to yell “Go DJ!”. And that he would never hurt me on purpose. And do I know that he gets to spend more time with me than with her?

Helga: I guess I’m too demanding. Sorry…
D: Nope, didn’t say that. And don’t say sorry, I chose that.

I KNOW I’M EMOTIONALLY EASY. IT DOESN’T TAKE MUCH TO WOO ME. :blank:

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THIS ISN’T FUNNY.

July 17, 2006 at 4:26 am | Filed under breaking up the girl, technicolor lover

We’re not okay. I’m not okay.

When you realize just how capable a person is of hurting you— whether consciously or unconsciously, it would be a smart move to walk away.

Helga:Is your girlfriend watching your game?
D: Yes.
D: Please don’t get mad.
Helga: Tama na.
(Which is my way of telling him that I want out).
D: Whaaaaaaaaat haaaaaaay bad trip.
D: Fuuuuuuck naman oh.
Helga: I get hurt, too, you know. Sorry…
D: What? Grabe naman oh.
D: God naman oh haaaaaaaaay.

We haven’t texted each other since that conversation Sunday afternoon. And now I’m at work while my whole team’s off partying. I’m feeling extra irate, extra cold, and extra lonely. “Not a good combo, Ice Queen,” said my boss, who seems to be more considerate than D, texting me out of the blue.

It’s been said that I am a strong person. Emotionally. It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it right now.

New hair. New clothes. A new body. Shit, even a new name seems really comforting right now. If I still feel like this when I get off from work in six hours, I’m gonna go get a haircut. And then pay my electricity bill. The little ways we deal with heartbreak men.

EDIT:
He just texted: You’re not texting me. So I’m just that easy for you to let go, huh?

:(

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EXPIRATION DATE

July 10, 2006 at 3:15 pm | Filed under breaking up the girl, technicolor lover

See, right now, I want nothing more than to be with him. A couple of weeks ago, during one of our fights, I told him that: the only guy I want right now is being an asshole. I mean, really, if someone threw you a line like that (just disregard the last four words)— wouldn’t that appease you? Make you feel all giddy inside?

It apparently doesn’t work for him. From my POV, “guy I want” were the operative words in that sentence. From his POV, it was “right now”. Meaning I could change my mind and run off with someone else in the next twenty seconds.

I digress. Like I said, I want nothing more than to be with him. Waking up beisde him; getting up to sit on his tummy and telling him I’m hungry and we should go get some food; running my hands through his hair to put him to sleep; my head on his bicep; my teeth on his shoulder; him growling and flashing his braces because I find it cute; the way his says “puh-puh-please“; his picking up my habit of keeping empty cans, cups and Yakult bottles in my fridge. Blah blah blah, and all that corny crap.

Oh god, do I have to keep on blabbing.

I’ve never been one to do the SOCIALLY-ACCEPTED right thing. Sure, I follow rules and am proudly a law-abiding citizen. But when it comes to Filipino values (or values, in general) I’ve always been a bit of a deviant. Fuck, why can’t I just get to the point.

I’m thinking of ending whatever D and I have. His girlfriend’s coming back to the city this week, so HE says we’ll have to plan our meet-ups now, including as to when we’ll be watching Pirates II. This naturally puts me in the sour-est and most confused mood you can imagine. :blah:

I can’t handle being the other woman. I’m a very jealous person, and I ask for undivided attention and lovin’. I cannot stand the fact that I have to share him, his time, his emotions, and his dick with a girl whom I naturally feel I am prettier, smarter and better in bed than. Because I’m arrogant like that and because he’s cheating on her. But really, if I were all that, then why is he still with her, right?

Don’t wanna be like every other girl in the world / Like every other one who wants you / ‘Cause when I see you, something inside me burns / And then I realize I wanna come first

-First, LiLo

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