Avoid and Evade.

I’ve been told that that’s my default reaction to any problem/issue/whathaveyou that comes my way. Perks of being passive-agressive, I guess.

When my dad died, I refused to talk about it. I deliberately chose to bury all the feelings under work, under other problems (under pressure). I went out a lot. Since my dad died I’ve been to SG, Tagaytay, and spent more time with my friends than I did with my family. Drank more than I used to. And just slept it off during the day. I couldn’t stand being home. I couldn’t stand hearing my mom cry whenever she remembers something about my dad (which was every few hours). I found other things to do, other things to focus on that doesn’t involve thinking of my dad and how he was never coming back.

Maybe this is also why I’m so bad at keeping in touch. At keeping friends close. At keeping relationships alive. Because at the first sign of trouble, I bail. Under the guise of “pa-cool”. I remember guys I dated who showed the first signs of looking the other way (at least that’s how I saw it), I made sure I “lost interest” first. Not replying to texts. Not making the first move to start a conversation. Acting like none of it mattered even though I wanted to punch the shit out of them (aka i wanted to see them and kiss them silly) Passive-aggressive at its best.

I run. I book the next flight out. I go to Ponti nearly every night. I turn of my cell phone and write cryptic one liners on social media platforms. And smile through it all. Fake, plastic, smile.

And what do I get out of all of this? Nothing. No matter how deep I bury the feelings, the problems, they come creeping back up. Slowly, one by one. And some, stronger than ever with an iron grip on an already bruised heart. (how cheesy did that line sound?)

My motto has always been, “make them make the first move, Conway!” yeah. Life lessons from a hockey move as demonstrated in a 90s disney movie. Point is, don’t get hurt. And from experience, I’ve always gotten hurt just by taking that leap, jumping the gun, heart on my forehead. Acknowledging feelings, and acting upon them have gotten me in so much trouble already – I think it’s high time I learned my lesson. And for the past few years, running has always worked. Ignore the feelings until they disappear. When they come back, worry about them later.

I guess I just don’t want to feel anything anymore. I’m tired of getting hurt, being left behind, lied to, dangled on a string (like slow spinning redemption? haha), etc, etc. And that’s how I’ve learned to put on my poker face, my fake, plastic, smile. And run, run as far away as I can from reality and sink into this cave I’ve dug for myself surrounded by alcohol, foreign language, and purple unicorns.

But I think in the process of running, I’ve also forgotten that I’m leaving people behind and they have feelings too. While they’re ready to face the problems with me, get hurt with me, I chose to abandon them just to protect myself. I’m doing to them, exactly what people have done to me which pushed me to take flight. And that’s not fair.

Moral righteousness (is there such a term) tells me to stop running, keep my feet on the ground and be a pillar of support for the people I love just like how they’ve been to me (or at least try to). But the bruises on my heart (haha!) are telling me to fuck this shit and run. I can’t stand being hurt anymore. One more pinch and I’m close to breaking (even though that’s a total exaggeration). The answer should be easy. Even I know which one I should pick. But you would be surprised to find out that this is a struggle for me. Self-preservation vs being part of a team.

No wonder I’m so lonely. Because I continuously choose to be one. But you have to admit, it’s easier being by yourself. You can’t get hurt by the people you open up yourself to, because you don’t open up yourself to anybody.

Last Saturday (March 31-April 1), I went to Tagaytay with 6 of my friends to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. One of them owns the house we were staying at.

And the weekend couldn’t have been any more perfect. It felt like it was made to fit a John Hughes movie.

They say I’m boring when I’m happy but I want to remember that weekend because every bone in my body is saying it’ll never happen again. Most good things don’t.

I live for those little moments. The kind you only get from watching TV, reading a book – or for some people – from stepping out your front door.

Dancing outside of a coffee shop, playing loud music – and laughing laughing laughing. While the fog settles, and the breeze turns your insides frigid – there is nothing else but the loud conversation, the jumping around, and the off-pitch singing to make hearts and shoulders melt. Hanson, Phoenix, Franco, Anberlin, Garbage, Jet, Sexy Time Music – and for all of the hipster shit? Just dance it out!

Advises and fantasies are shared over beer, overlooking a dark horizon. Lights out, candles now. And then there’s the comfortable silence that comes with thinking what you want to say to the person sitting in front of you, beside you, 2 chairs away from you – to make them realize how grand they really are. “You are fantastic” is all there is to say really.

And I truly believe that friendships are sealed when all of you are stuck in one room, windows closed, quiet breathing, and soft music playing – and then somebody farts. Yet nobody says anything. You just see it in their faces.

Of course alcohol, hilarity, and vulgarity are always present. 7 people in one room, one glass, and bottles upon bottles of alcohol. Open windows, packs of cigarettes  to coax out the quotable quotes and the secrets. “I love you guys.”

The hours leading to the end is always the saddest for me. Trying to stretch the time, pocketing moments to make them last longer. One last game of cards. One last insult for the fat girl you’re all friends with but don’t really like. One last song for the long drive home.

Tuesday nights are always Ponti Nights (Ponti being the bar at the 2nd floor of our building). I try to make it a point to at finish by 8pm on Tuesdays (since I end much later the rest of the week anyway) lest I go crazy from work-related stress. I think I’m nearing my burn out point.

So anyway, Tuesdays. Ponti Nights. My friends from work and I would buy our set of beers (3 for P100 if you’re a VIP which we’ve become thanks to being at Ponti every Tuesday since January and nearly everyday 2010) and a pizza or a platter of wings (if we have more than P100 in our pockets), and gossip for the next 2 hours.

More often than not, we would sing our hearts out to 90s pop music that the dj would be playing. If we’re lucky, it would be Rocke-oke night so we get to sing our hearts out to 90s pop music in front of a group of equally-drunk people with a band to back us up.

But then, sometimes, we have the bad nights.

Bad nights can be defined as nights when we go down too late like say, 10pm and a gaggle of giggly yuppies fresh from college or law school students come in. You can tell by their outfits, usually. And for this post, let me focus on the giggly girls fresh from college.

They’re giggly. And there’s a gaggle of them. With their designer bags and a glass of cocktail in their hand they fleet from table to table air kissing friends. They seem to know everybody or have a friend in every table. They probably went to college, party, drink, together or whatever the case may be, the whole bar is a clique (minus us, the oldies).

One thing I noticed about them is that… NOT ONE OF THEM IS FAT! I’ll be damned if any of them is over 120lbs, heights ranging from 5’2 to 5’9″ most probably high heels included.

So they can wear skin-tight jeans, tank and or cropped tops, unforgiving polyester dresses and you will not see an iota of bulge,fat,stretch marks, cellulite or even a misplaced pimple. WHAT DID THESE KIDS DO? Was there something in the milk they were drinking that we didn’t have that made them this… (nearly) perfect?

I find myself envying them and how they carry themselves. They can walk without a problem (and some people can even dance and run) in 5 inch heels (which are very pretty, mind you). No matter how short their skirts are, they still manage not to flash anybody! And let’s not even talk about make-up coz for the life of me I can’t even put on lipstick without getting some on my teeth.

basically they all look something like this minus the coat and the knee high boots

And yeah, they’re all so pretty.

I know that they don’t represent the norm of the society. They’re just like 10% of their age group.

But they’re all so different from the girls I’m used to. (The hipster kids)

but 10 lbs heavier hehehe.

But at least the universe is fair. When I run into these kids in the restroom, I hear them puking in the stall next to mine and I laugh on the inside. I see them stumbling and barely able to walk in their 5 inch heels while severely drunk and I thank the gods I have enough sense in me to wear shoes I can walk in. So yeah they may have looked good when they walked in, but with their runny make up and the zombie walk – I look much better than they do (at least in my head I do).

And let’s not even talk about the “talking”. High-pitched conyo speak has the same effect on me as nails scratching on boards. Grating.

But I have friends who are these kids and I still love them to bits. And I love how they let me make fun of them :)

But I will never ever understanding how they can bring themselves to snort alcohol.

1st set of images. Valet Parking Boys.

coming up: identikit and the pin ups…

Yesterday (July 30) was my last day at IG and it was sad and exhilirating at the same time. Everything felt right and I was laughing and grinning and screaming and jumping –and I’ve never had that much fun since Hong Kong?

Before I left, my Smart Team family surprised me with flowers and love letters. :) It was the first time I’ve actually gotten a bouquet. So I guess it’s ok to get a bouquets of flowers as long as they’re from friends. I still think they’re too cheesy. hehe. But I love them to bits  (the bouquet that my team mates gave me – not bouquets in general).

then I went to watch the Coheed and Cambria concert at A.Venue. It was absofuckinglutely amazing! My legs hurt from all the jumping and my throat was scratchy from all the screaming and shouting out lyrics to the songs I knew the words to. And after the concert my ears were ringing. We were so close! I could almost feel Claudio’s hair haha. And it was a good thing we were really close to the stage because I don’t think my phone’s camera wouldn’t have been able to take these pretty decent pictures had we been a little bit farther back.

and concerts like this should always be seen with friends :) cheers to my best girl, loren. haha kawawa ang mga probinsyanong/chicano sa atin. buti nalang magkasama tayo forever and ever amen :). and to weak who protected us from sweaty boys pero natalo ng girl with awesome cleavage. and to ting who “englished” away jejemons. and to don who knew the words to nearly all the songs on coheed and cambria’s set list. haha.

excuse our ugly mugs. we were just really happy to be there. haha

i wish eumir went with us. he would have really enjoyed it. we (loren and i) miss you smuemir! pinagpalit mo na ba kami sa lovelife mo? hahaha

and you want to know the pefect cap to that already awesome evening? we saw Ramon Bautista at David’s Tea House right after the concert. haha of course we (loren and i) were ridiculously giggly fangirls the whole time.

of course we had to have our picture taken with him. ugly mugs and all. haha

“we” likes this. hehe

so that my friends was my perfect friday. :) what a way to end my stay at IG and my work week.

The sun is up, The sky is blue — with the occasional rain shower.

Pinky was here and once again childhood memories of going to village basketball games, buying isaw, bullying other people, and pretentious people have been discussed over dinner, beer and sweat stains.

For awhile there, I was hopeful. We talked about adventures with heavy backpacks and ratty maps and loose changes in our pockets. It all seemed so –real. Like it could happen any day we wanted it to. She always makes me feel that the glass is half full.

I went to see other friends last week, 2 weeks ago, last Saturday. Some are getting married. Some are flying off to other countries to try their luck. Some still trying to figure out their lefts from their rights.

Some were mistakes – I shouldn’t have gone to see them.

And then of course there were some that I wished I have taken the time off to see sooner. Or not…

You have made me smile again
In fact, I might be sore from it
It’s been a while
I know we’ve been together many times before
I’ll see you on the other side

But my friends are awesome, especially the ones who feed you spicy adobo, give you birthday presents 3 months too late, sing “Jessie’s Girl” and “Total Eclipse of The Heart” with you, and talk to you about problems that are 6 years old (probably older but you’ve only known them for 6 years). And most especially the ones you can text in the middle of the night about movies that make you cry and girls you hate.

I went to a debut! Geejay’s. :) And the food was great, the program was pretty amazing.

Geejay turned 18

and Louie was one proud Ate

It was the first time we were seeing Louie all teary eyed. Tin, Louie’s bestfriend, looked pleased.

Loren wanted to show off her kissable lips.

me, i’m just happy to be here.

it was clearly Geejay’s day.

then the party broke out

then francy and i brought out the fierce.

xoxo, echosera.

Today I went to Martin’s wedding. My first wedding for the year, and my 2nd among my peers. I’m guessing this is going to be a trend for the next 2-5 years. I’m looking at you friends!

Since it was the Manila leg of their wedding, it was just a reception for their families and friends who couldn’t fly to Malaysia for the ceremonies.

i was seated at table number 3 with my friends from college.

sam and toph (kayo na ba ang susunod?)

kc and boyfriend

kat the debutante (:)) and boyfriend

g and gen (baka sila na ang susunod)

but i’m willing to bet an arm and a leg that these guys will go next (haha)

trina and earl

sam and trina showing of their souvenirs. they’re just happy to be here.

g and toph wondering where their girlfriends went.

eumir wondered if he looked dashing in his barong.

g and toph couldn’t find their girlfriends while eums and chito didn’t want to look like they were together… so the boys decided to join forces. then hilarity ensued (i think)

we saw 2 waiters drinking on the job… no, wait. that’s bruce and jericho. hyukhyuk.

a parrot appeared. we weren’t drunk.

trina just wanted to show off how fabulous she looked

even with barely any light

even with weird fairy dust sparkling on her right (our left)

even with half her body chopped out of the shot

even her bangs looked fabulous

i rest my case.

a failed attempt at trying to do a lookbook pose with gammi (trina’s gift) at my feet.

Ok. Here’s one more picture I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t want to use so I’m posting it here. But this is the last one coz I really don’t want to ruin the surprise.

and pictures of yours truly, on duty.

special thanks to stan for lending his gear to our cause.

Met up with Glenn and Cholo after work for some laughs. We now have a 6-part movie all about Farting which we will call HBOMB Series where in the end only Kuya Germs, Kris Aquino and a sleeping Hero Angeles will survive. We also have Gangester names now.

Glenn is G-PIMP H

Cholo is BABY C-H

And mine’s the most baduy of the lot, KX-H

Together, we are called H-OGs. And we sparkle in sunlight despite having only one facial expression, which is blank..

wala pa kami amats nyan ah! (well ako wala, sila meron)