I can't seem to stop ranting. What else is new?


long day
March 7, 2007, 10:41 pm

I'm so darned exhausted. It's been a very long day.

I so badly need a bottle of beer. But unfortunately, I can't afford even that one single indulgence because I need all of my wits to navigate through every item in my task list. Urgh!

I promise I'll unwind this weekend. Booze on saturday, beach on Sunday, and everything in between. :-)

Sounds like a plan.

Anyone interested?


24 hours and counting
March 9, 2007, 6:07 am

i'm so exhausted.

the physical exhaustion, i can stand. it's the mental exhaustion that's killing me. (i want to scream, but i obviously can't. so, i'm blogging instead. sigh. story of my life.)

i so badly need a beer right now.

or a hug. a hug will do.

wake up, baby. wake up.


Where did the week go?
March 9, 2007, 11:01 pm

Is it Friday already? Where did the week go? I was so wrapped up in work that I hardly even noticed that the rest of the world has moved on. Urgh!

You know what I need? A long vacation.

It's been months since I've had a good rest. I want to be able to sleep for 24 hours straight, without stressing about all the other tasks on my plate. I just want to lie down and rid my mind of its present chaos. I don't need a trip abroad or a fancy vacation. I just want to stay in a hotel (any hole in the wall will do) and sleep. Sleep without tossing and turning. Sleep without my cellphone close to my ear. Sleep without setting the alarm. Sleep without preparing for the morning after. Just sleep a dreamless sleep. Just sleep.


tired, hungry, and bitchy
March 10, 2007, 6:37 pm

My weekend plans didn't materialize, after all. I'm stuck at home, trying to work on some backlog. 'Trying' being the operative word.

My mind keeps drifting. My stomach keeps grumbling. My mouth keeps yawning. And my body just keeps craving for bed.

*stretch, stretch*

Oh, we have a photo shoot tonight. But I begged off. I'm sending Mark instead. I'm just not up to it.

I still think Bon and Mark would make a great couple. There's so much chemistry there, I swear! Hahahaha. Let this be my last will and testament: If I die an early death, Bonita Marie Cabiles should marry Mark Austin Ladanan.

Daan Pa Lagi Ko!
Originally posted by Bon, March 2, 2007.
[reposted because of this]

This is the work of the devil...

JR: ingon si manoi wat, "kabaw na ko, magbinuotan na ko kay bons!" ingon ko, "ngano man?" ang iyang tubag: "para maapil ko sa chismiss!" unya nihirit dayon si mark..."pare, di man kinahanglan."

*****************

Loose Translation:
(postcript added by Y for the benefit of our English readers)

The king says to his subjects, "I will be a more benevolent deity from now on." And his bewildered minions ask, "Why?" To that, the god replied, "So that the powerful witch will grant me more spells." At this point, the king's brother says, "But there's no need!" The end.

Originally posted February 27, 2007.
[reposted because of this]

I realized, after a whole day of learning to scuba dive, that I have a lot of control issues.

I'm sure this comes as no surprise to the people who know me. It certainly didn't come as a surprise to Mark, the hapless victim of my irrational need to be in control all the time.

I hate losing control, especially in an environment that is new and strange to me. I do not thrive well in situations that require me to relinquish control. I am not adaptable. And I am too stubborn for my own good. ...in other words, I'm a control freak.

I need to be processed. I need to deal with these issues before my next diving misadventure. I just don't know how yet.

I hesitate to repost this. But what the hell. This is still part of history.

Originally posted January 29, 2007.
[reposted because of this]

I don't know what to make of it, really. I don't see the point of all these lies, all these elaborate tales. Wouldn't it be simpler to admit the truth and face the consequences?

I still don't get it; I still don't. Is the truth too terrible an adversary? I think not. Truth can be your most benevolent ally, if you finally accept that it is its own master. You cannot conquer Truth and bend it to your will. Giving up the futile attempt to manipulate Truth is the first step to gaining its absolute allegiance.

I do feel for Kris, I do. But I don't know what to believe anymore. Too much deceit has been spawned. Too much ill intent. How can I sift through the infinite boulders of fiction to find the well concealed pebbles of facts? It's an impossible task. One I am not built for.

This really hurts. This is very painful. Immensely painful. To have given trust so freely and to have it thrown so casually to my face. It's a mockery of my beliefs. It's a mockery of everything I stand for. It's a mockery. Period. And the worst possible insult.

nothing's changed. argh!

Originally posted January 21, 2007.
[reposted because of this]

In the order of things, it has always been Bon's role to be confused, Gen's to listen with her aloof worldliness, and mine to emphatically remind them that their place will always be in Cebu.

It's almost a paradigm shift for me to admit that lately, I have been feeling an inexplicable urge to wander.

My goal has always been simple: work hard during my productive years, semi-retire when I'm 30 to travel the world, and then settle back to a comfortable life in Cebu. Of course, by that time, I would have amassed enough wealth to actually do what I want to do for the rest of my life -- whatever that is.

But having just barely survived a terrible year, I now have to face the fact that it's not gonna happen. At least not in 2 years (I'm turning 28 this year, yech). At least not yet.

And so, now that there's some talk of a job somewhere, not in this city, and not in this country, I'm actually tempted to flee. It's not a job offer per se, but an invitation to submit my credentials. And, well, it's a job for which I know that I am fully qualified.

Back in the early part of this millennium, in the interlude between the end of the stress-laden ordeal that was my first job and the crazy ride that was to become my entrepreneural adventure, I took my adrenaline rush from job interviews. I love job interviews. Historically, they had always gone my way. The banter, the repertoire, and the ego-boosting "Sorry, but you can't afford me" clincher that soon morphed into a vicious mantra. The job hunt was a game. A sick, selfish, egocentric game. And eventually, I settled for none of the offers and opted to indulge on an insane whim -- to start on my own.

It worked out (beautifully, lucratively) for the greater part of this experiment, but now, things are looking bleak and I am ready to consider other options.

I do fear, however, that by leaving, I am admitting defeat. It is not in my nature to give up. Not that easily, no. It's always been my nature to be stubborn. To fight back until the last drop of blood has been spilled.

Hence, my confusion. A premature one, even I have to admit. But even if this job turns out to be a wild goose chase, there will always be other jobs, other opportunities. The prospect of trekking another path will always loom in the background, much like an annoying song that just won't leave you well enough alone. And that is something I have to deal with, sooner rather than later.

In the meantime, I have set a goal for myself. It's a financial yardstick that, if unmet, will tell me beyond a shadow of a doubt that there's something else I should be doing with my life.

Like Bon, I, too, believe in signs. And what more comprehensible sign is there than the figures in my bank account?

this is probably why I'm tired all the time. *groan*

Originally posted January 12, 2007.
[reposted because of this]

I need to do something about Mark's loud and obnoxious snoring. It's a monstrous, evil sound, reminiscent of an ogre's manic laughter as he kills the last of his brethren in one quick blow. Seriously.

This is not the first time I've cursed Mark for keeping me awake. My body is so exhausted, but my mind refuses to relinquish control. Mark's incessant snoring is keeping me on the fringes of consciousness...when all I really wanna do is drift away into the realm of dreaming.

hey, Bon. I really miss your thought-provoking posts. I really, really miss you.

Originally posted by Bon, January 11, 2007.
[reposted because of this]

My dearest bestfriend a.k.a. the Barena King a.k.a. TB once commented on the brief shelf lives of my "love interests": "You never really wanted someone so bad, Bon."

Now at last I can tell him face-to-face, "I've found him." (continued... "And it's not you.")

I believe it was Archimedes who popularized the word "Eureka!" when he discovered something about weight measurement.

I have discovered something. Eureka! I have found it! Or should I say, I have found him ... Again.

I just had my Eureka experience. And all I can say is ... "Damn!"

Originally posted January 9, 2007.
[reposted because of this]


I know I've overused this line: but really, I was too drunk to know what I was doing. Well, okay, perhaps I was just a tad bit (maybe even a wee bit) aware of my actions, but the lychee martini blocked out Reason and made me say things I never would have said under normal circumstances.

Or (and this seems more plausible) perhaps the martini was my liberation. Instead of rendering Reason immobile, it set it free, unclipping its wings and letting it surge through the air like a thirsty mosquito. Hence, the blood sucking that followed.

Perhaps those things needed to be said, after all. Perhaps turning an otherwise tragic story (i.e., gen's pain) into a ridiculous farce was the perfect ending to an otherwise dull evening. Perhaps, and I'm obviously grasping at straws here, Gen willed it to happen. If only to hyperventilate into a smelly plastic bag and purge out the last of her lingering desire for ken.

Whisper your wish to a butterfly and release it, I've been told. Its wings will carry your wish to the one who may grant it.

The terrifying sound of Gen's breathing as she bent over an unsanitary piece of plastic may have been moans of pain. Or, they could have been the broken notes of yearning. Wishes and desires whispered to the wind.

For, as you and I know, the wind can travel to worlds that butterflies know nothing about. And perhaps, just perhaps, he who is gen's salvation inhabits one of those worlds.

Again, I'm not sure what spurred this. But knowing me, it was probably one of those "episodes". Whatever. Hehehe.

Originally posted July 26, 2006
[reposted because of this]

I don't know what's up with me today. Is it something I ate? The lethal doze of caffeine and nicotine I ingested? Some sort of hormonal imbalance, perhaps? The heat?

Whatever it is, it's turning me into some sort of maudlin idiot.

I wasn't kidding when I told Gen, Roy, and Mark at dinner earlier today that I'm inexplicably overwhelmed with all sorts of unnamed emotions. I just want to cry and lash out at anyone, anything.

For whatever reason I cannot seem to fathom, a storm is welling up inside me. I'm at the brink of explosion, an explosion so catastrophic that I dare not let it happen.

Had this been a decade ago, I could have easily used my depression as a shield and retreated from the rest of the world. But this is now. This is today. And I must keep my personal melodrama in check lest I get too overwhelmed to work. I must sublimate my sentiments and focus on more lucrative endeavors.

I rarely say this, but at this very moment, I really do mean it -- I miss my parents.

I want to crawl into my parents' bed and just lie beside my mom. No talking, no whining, no complaining about life. I just want to be with my mom. I just want to lie still beside her and bask in her presence. I want to feel her strength, her wordless assurance that everything will be okay.

When did this happen? Me growing up, I mean? How did this happen? How did I transform from a carefree, careless kid into this? -- This adult who slaves in the name of that elusive deity called Responsibility? This adult who has to think about bills and money and survival? This adult who is currently lost, overwrought with nostalgia?

This sadness, this inexplicable sadness, is not a symptom of some absurd desire to relive my childhood. I have no wish to relive the confusion, the idealism, the myriad of complexities. I barely emerged from the fire unscathed, and I have no wish to go through that again.

What I do miss (if this sadness is indeed nostalgia) is the safety net. The false certainty that all my mistakes could be attributed to youth, to a lack of maturity. The belief that my parents would always be there for me -- whatever trouble I managed to land in, whatever the extent of my stupidity. My parents were always there, an enduring bark to cling to each time I stepped into a quagmire.

Mark, my beloved Mark, has done all he could to take care of me. He has taken more than his share of the burden. I couldn't ask for a more loyal, more loving partner.

But like me, he, too, is playing the survival game. He, too, is vulnerable to this expansive quagmire. If I sink, he will sink with me. I can only console myself with the knowledge that when adrift, he will keep me afloat, holding my hand until we both succumb to the abyss.

I started writing this entry without a clear direction in mind. If I had a point, the point is lost to me now. What is my point? What answers am I seeking? What relief? What solutions?

This is not me playing dress-up and pretending to be an adult. This is me as an adult, fraught with infinite worries, plagued by countless responsibilities. There is no life to go back to, no basic simplicity to revert to. I had been too proud; I have been too proud; I am too proud.

This is me as an adult. And I can no longer dream of growing up to become a better person. I have grown up. And this is the life into which I had grown up. This is the life I created for myself; the path I chose to trek.

And ironically, when I'm not in one of these moods, I like my life. I can even go so far as to say that I love it. And the person I've become? She takes getting used to; but false humility aside, she's a pretty great gal. Someone you'd be proud of.

So, if I had a point, it is this -- I have seen my reflection through a broken mirror. Perhaps by chance or by fate's design, I stumbled across the shattered ideals, the broken pieces lying in the dark. And I now see fragments of my face staring back at me, accusing me of immeasurable crimes.

But tomorrow, when I turn on the lights, the fragments would have been carried far, far into the sun. And what would remain? Perhaps only some lifeless debris.

That is not much of a point, really. It is not even much of a metaphor. Be as post-modern as you want. Deconstruct the symbolic implications. Read me, if you will. But I no longer care.

Hear this:

What I am is tired.

I'm emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted.

I'm tired of being strong. I'm tired of wanting to be strong.

I'm tired of keeping it all together.

I'm tired of holding on.

I'm tired of dreaming.

I'm tired.

I'm just so overwhelmingly tired.

Posted by Bon, May 21, 2006:
[reposted because of this]

April 7. Third day of a youth conference. Launching of a library project in a public high school. A concert featuring the best bands in Cebu. :wink* A drunk call to my best friend.

The day after ... the most painful hang-over after only half a glass of Long Island iced tea. And a breakfast call from a psycho girl. One of those pathetic phone calls from an insecure (here I would like to quote my fabulous gay brother : insecure = ugly) girlfriend who will only be satisfied if she successfully ties a leash around her guy. She did successfully establish the fact however, that she should be the one with a leash ... or a cage, perhaps? Creatures with brains half the size as that of dogs can be harmful and should not be allowed to freely wander. Before I digress further, here goes the conversation . . .

V (yours truly) : Hello, goodmorning! You called? (I had three missed calls)

PG (Psycho GF) : Ah yes. I was just checking Jon's (may not be his name) phone. This is the wife.

V : Oh okay. What can I do for you?

PG : You work in (name withheld), right?

V : Ummm... yes I work but as to where, that's my business. Not yours.

PG : And your business is what?

V : (eyes wide trying to think whether or not the person on the other line is stupid) What do you mean?

PG : You said you have business. What is your business?

V : (head shaking in disbelief) You know what? I don't have time for this. Goodbye!

- TRANSLATION : Talking with an imbecile is not my idea of having breakfast. Besides I was paying for the call! -

Now sometimes people just want to flaunt their stupidity. Her follow-up text message screams: "Look I'm an idiot! I really am!" And so I share it with you with hopes of making money out of it ... Perhaps Bob Ong would like to include this in his collection (I am an avid fan and waiting for a second edtion of "Bakit Baliktad Magbasa ..."

"Oh really you have business? Your just a secretary. I can easily fired you out. I asked you nicely but you give me a shit answer. Remember, you recieved a salary which is partly came from me". April 8, 2006 9:47:27 am

Every now and then life offers something to talk about, laugh about and write about.

Consider this my answer. I don't get mad. I just get even. *smile*