Monday, 4 February 2013


Oh but where do I has been awhile since our last time, inexistent readers! It's been months, memories, drunken nights, mistakes, laughs since our last meet but here we are, yet again in a hurt mood. I guess the writer in me only comes out when the pain slashes deep, as if the darkness of this unknown blog somehow provides comfort and venue of talking the numbness the form of typed words.

My mother had her shoulder surgery today...and I, instead of working at NCC, I decided to cancel with the pretext of my mother's surgery and spend the day with Y instead because the pleasure was more tempting than the duty of either my professional commitments or my family ones. And then 5pm rolled by and I checked my email, only to find that the position I applied for and interviewed for (twice) and thought that had in the bag (partied two nights in a row thinking I got it) was going to this other girl only because she had been there longer. At least, that's what am telling myself right now. And then I had to run and be with my mother who had just come out of surgery, a task that I guiltily had postponed till so late which I now had to fulfill (without the initial gifts in tow like the flowers, or the fruits, or the food, etc failed promises in head). So I went for the second time ever to my mother's room where she has been living for the past few months and I felt so sad, so encapsulated by the sadness of having ignored my own mother for so long while being busy paying attention to anybody who might offer good times. I felt horrible and disgusted with myself...felt a complete fake! Here I was, preaching kindness to all my friends while ignoring the most important part in a person's life, their mother. So, to make myself feel better, I decided to massage her feet with cream since they are always hurting and she always feel better after I massage them. And as I was massaging my mother's feet and my tears were rolling and making a small pond on my tights, I hear my mother all of a sudden say how only her psychiatrist and the 70+ Italian granpa are the only people that have supported her and taken good care of her lately.

It was a sentence that hit me, slapped me, spit at me the reality that I had ignored to see. I realized how much I had not been there for her, how bad of a daughter I had been...and how selfish of me to just focus on evading my problems while ignoring hers. And so at that moment, I promised to myself (as I had done countless times before) that I would change and start being there for her, that it would do us both good. So I left somehow better, but still very sad. I arrived home, saw the mess in my house, went upstairs and viewed the same in my room...and sparked my tiny roach. I listened to music and had a cigarette, and I cried briefly at intervals over my failures and my mistakes, all the meanwhile already formulating another action plan that most likely will soon be forgotten.

What I am trying to say, inexistent readers, after all this long ass story is that it is difficult to avoid problems without encountering others and without fucking yourself over even more. I realized that tonight, as I have countless times before, I must change and for the first time keep to my plans, not just write, dream or talk about them. But I suppose that this time around, we will have to see whether this is the last "countless times before".
I hope I can get over my crippling procrastination habits, my ADD, my addiction to people and my love of pursuing numbness methods. I must be brave enough to allow days of utter pain...for only then will I rise above it. My phoenix moment, perhaps can only be achieved through total isolation from others and immersion into my hobbies and work. Will I be self disciplined enough to achieve it? God knows. Will I try? Well...that...only time knows!