The Love Post
Tuesday, February 19th, 2008A mushy post, from this angst-y guy?! Before you find yourself
unable to comprehend why I’m writing this, and before you go hit the
back button, hear me:
This is another past-story post.
Yeah, I know, I’ve been overdoing the retrospection. My Feb’s not
fab unlike the past few days in New Orleans, but more fab than GMA’s
devoid-of-funk speeches. I’m so bored to the point of reading my old
blog, rewriting them, and posting them on this blog for the first time.
I know, I know, get off me; I wouldn’t be doing this have I a social
life. Anyway, this will be bittersweet - that means some bitterness
will counteract with the supposed sweetness you get when you hear
"love", and that means you’re going to get through this without needing
to visit the dentist. I hope.
I’m starting to believe that my disdain for Murakami may be because
his protagonists remind me of me. In a fitting homage to his books, why
don’t we put a beautiful jazz song before we go?
My Little Brown Book (Duke Ellington and John Coltrane)
Note that I combined my past post with something recent, so this isn’t verbatim of what I wrote 3 years ago.
There’s this girl, who I’ll call Lanie. She ran for student council,
and the first image I saw of her was from a campaign tarpaulin. She
instantly reminded me of another girl I had been very attracted to.
Doesn’t help (hurt?) that they share the same uncommon surname.
I was like “Wow, cute! I wonder how she looks in real life” but that
was it. I wasn’t expecting anything else because pictures tend to
depict real appearances inaccurately. I even added her in Friendster,
for whatever reason. This was 2004 after all when everyone went around
adding people they haven’t met, to realize later that they’ve been
adding douches. That last word is my bitter touch, yo! It gives this
post edge!
I’ll be a little anachronistic here: she’s been appearing on my
dreams since I have first seen the tarp, at the most haphazard times. I
haven’t seen her for years now but she doesn’t miss the casting call
when people audition for my dreams, and I just reckon that I said the
gayest phrase. Audition for my dreams? What weed did I smoke when I
wrote that? The only thing more peculiar than the dreams with her
appearances is my remembering their details. The first one had me on a
fictional school, practicing piano while she wasn’t noticing. One month
after, this dream had a sequel where I was on a recital on the same
fictional school, and she came close and smiled at me. Both of them
were strange because I never was a piano virtuoso. Almost a year
passed, I dreamed of her jogging at Central Park; with her back turned
on me I was trying to chase her all the time while countering the heavy
force on my feet. I woke up with blisters on my feet the next morning,
at my sister’s apartment in Manhattan which, I imagine, was half a
world away from Lanie. And then just a few months ago, I dreamed of
being back to school doing campaigns with Lanie, even if I’ve never
been a member of any political orgs in my college days. I think I also
dreamed of spending a day with Lanie at the Metropolitan Museum of
Arts, but that’s hard to remember, which you’ll understand if you’ve
ever been to the Met.
Oddly, we only almost knew each other.
It happened in the young hours of the night. I finished my exam and
was about to leave on our school’s North gate - which is called that
because I heard that it aligns with the north star and I’m not sure if
I should take that on face value or if there’s a clue in there
somewhere leading to the treasures of Triforce. I saw her standing
there in all her resplendence. Forget the tarp: if she looked anything
like that, Nightdreamer could’ve been a normal guy instead. Her beauty
had such an effect on me that basking in insanity was my most novel
idea of the day. But wait, she smiled and waved. My sweet lord, it’s
the 1000-watts smile plus a waving, there is not a supermodel posing as
a Wii gamer that could compare to that! I looked behind because I
thought she was greeting someone behind me, but nobody was behind me,
so my conclusion was that she was greeting me. I also took it for
granted that she didn’t see apparitions, and at least based on her
reactions I think that’s true.
So put yourself in such position then, what would you do? This girl
you like is in her lonesome, smiling and waving silly at you. There’s a
bench nearby where you can sit and have small chats. People say you’re
a deipnosophist. What would you do?
You wouldn’t give her the cold shoulder, would you? Well, that’s
what I did, out of being too stunned to do anything logical. I went
home cursing myself over and over again for what I did there, folks,
because that’s quality incompetence I showed there! College student,
and still torpe (closest translation: clueless about how to
meet women) what the hell, and this coming from the same guy who
effortlessly introduced himself to Sam Oh few years before and to
Shaira Luna few years after this fiasco! Seriously, slitting my wrist
wasn’t such a bad idea for me then because I couldn’t live with that
shame. I bet you’re laughing at me; I deserve it, for once.
It also didn’t take long for her to be in a relationship after that. I think it’s still them, now.
About the only time I ever talked to Lanie was when she re-elected
and I wished her good luck. Her “thanks” resounded so much I still hear
it now. That’s what happens when you hear a sincere gratitude from the
person you’re infatuated with.
The last time I saw her was year 2005, so why am I still dreaming of
her now when every trace of her in my memory is so bittersweet?
Right now I want to eat halo-halo.
Connection? Confectioneries. I’m craving sugar, which explains why this post is so cloying. I’m so fired up to play Apollo Justice (it’s a lawyer game) that I’m now cross examining my own words. Durrr.
(Image courtesy of ourawesomeplanet, which is just the place to go if you want more info about halo-halo)
