Thursday, January 15, 2009
10:07 AM |
Things That Race in My Head While Doing Cleaning Therapy...
Cleaning the house makes me think. I think a lot of random thoughts. I believe it keeps me sane. Here's a sample from my current self-psychoanalysis while bearing the mop...1.
All these reality shows on television -- particularly the ones involving contests of talents like Project Runway
, American Idol
, and America's Next Model
-- have taught us too well that the vocabulary of loss is commonplace. The rejected ones always say, tearfully for the camera, in the end: "Someday, I'm gonna prove them wrong. I'm gonna make it to Fashion Week/Hollywood/the cover of Vogue
." There's certain wistful bravado that underlines all our disappointments, perhaps driven by an anger that we actually don't measure up. It's so typical. The sad truth is? They never usually do make it to Fashion Week. Or Hollywood. Or the cover of Vogue
. Not even the cover of Hello!2.
I love how complex human beings are. How we can mix our lies and our truths. How we can straddle the fine line between madness and normalcy. How, for example, you miss the warm body beside you at night when the clock nears midnight -- but there's no problem with sleep. You sleep like there's no tomorrow.3.
"Cute" is nice. "Cute" makes intimate moments more beautiful -- we believe we can stare forever at a beautiful face, and it can "complete" us, in those moments at least. But I realize that "cute," in the long run, is not enough. There are so many cute and beautiful people in the world. A dime a dozen, practically. But finally I want substance, too.4.
Sex is good. A great massage is better.5.
At the gym yesterday, I overheard a bunch of gym bunnies -- macho boys all of them -- huddling around between sets talking about basketball players and their salaries and their game. I rolled my eyes. I am so not straight. On a more positive note, I've lost six pounds since December. That's good, right? Here's to 20 more...6.
When I was in my early 20s, I was a boytoy to this wonderful older man. It felt good. (Oh, God. Did I just blog that?)
I'm thinking about this because my friends seem to be hooking up with older people these days. Quddus did. Razcel did. My ex certainly did. A bunch of others also did. Is the over-36 the new 21?7.
Shit. Quddus was right. I got "Tarzan-ned."8.
I just realize that in my past relationships, I've basically served the role of the Starter Boyfriend. You know? The one that keeps them going while they flail their way towards self-realization? The one that "trains" them, and eventually pass them off to people who will benefit from all your "hard work"? Ahahaha!
I'm not sure whether to be horrified, or flattered. I don't want to be a Starter Boyfriend anymore. So not worth it.9.
If I eat a donut later, would I have to spend thirty extra minutes on the elliptical machine?10.
Real men would love Twilight
I got pissed off with someone very dear to me the other day. (You know who you are -- and you know naman
that despite everything and anything, I really consider you a good friend, diba
? You remind me of me when I was much younger...) Perhaps it was because he has just found a new love in his life and he's happy ... but I found it jarring when he was suddenly "advising" me with bromides about love and my lack of one at the moment. And I was like: I just got out of a five-year relationship, and you just got yourself into a week-old one, and you're advising
me? I snapped. But I'm over it now. Thanks for the concern, O. But really, I'm all right. Why shouldn't I be?12.
In the age of Facebook, Blogger, and YouTube, are we oversharing?13.
I like the kid, and he is truly talented, but I still can't wrap my head around the fact that Joaqui Valdez will play Melchior in Atlantis' production of Spring Awakening
in Manila this September. Moritz na lang unta
. (Hendrison texted me the other day, "You're becoming too obsessed with Spring Awakening
." My reply: "It's your fault!" Ahahaha!
I used to be a dancefloor freak. (Right, Kokak?) Current downer though: you make your way to the dancefloor, and half the people in there pipe in, "Hi, Sir!" Nothing ruins an evening than a bunch of your students eyeing you like the dinosaur you are supposed to be. (Teachers have social lives pala
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