I have a close friend whose title of "close" I can almost safely say is comatose and "friend" barely hanging on. Part of it might be the contempt and bitterness towards him that I'm failing to ward of. The other is him.
He doesn't tell me much personal stuff anymore. I can tell he's not content; I still can read him well. There is, however, one small keyhole that allows me to proverbially peer into his otherwise tight space. I snooped (and ironically, stumbled) upon it. Voyeuristic doesn't quite describe my actions. My moral compass wants to point on the label "crime," though it spins between that and "stalker." Other adjectives are welcome.
I wish a simple phone call, visit or chat would re-establish trust and make my detectiving pointless. Sorry, this seems to be the only way I really know what's going on with him. Why? It's complicated. Why is it always complicated? Oh, yeah. *Re-reads beginning paragraph*
I wish I was more ashamed. But knowing that I know what he doesn't want others, probably including me, to know gives me a sick, Cheshire Cat-like grin.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Triangle
She broke your heart.
You sent her to PostSecret.
I am sending myself to a counselor tomorrow because of you.
You sent her to PostSecret.
I am sending myself to a counselor tomorrow because of you.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Remember: Call Your Mama
Rarely do I verbally express the emotional tempests that occasionally (in this case lately) rage inside. I\ have a handful of close friends whom I confide in, but unfortunately my prideful and independent nature wants to muddle through until I'm almost drowning in a glass full of thoughts and feelings. That's when I talk.
Lately I've been sailing the sea of uncertainty and fighting waves of self-doubt, anxiety, mistrust, and pseudo-unemployment. I had already talked to two friends but continued to feel angst with no proverbial land in sight.
That's when I decided to use a never-failing life-saver: I called my mama.
We began with usual chit-chat. Weather, sister's basketball game (she made a shot, yeah!), family. Topics got deeper thereafter- I was not content, had a tendency to over-think (which sometimes had physical side-effects), still held a particular grudge. Unsurprisingly she "prescribed" God, prayer and the Good Book. Inside I groaned but knew she was right. God and I have become acquaintances.
The comforting thing is she listened to my cracking voice and convoluted explanations. She even understood and admitted she sometimes experiences what I go through. And, despite the state I am in, I am still her hijita.
I don't have concrete or easy answers, but at the moment that's OK. I talked to my mama.
Lately I've been sailing the sea of uncertainty and fighting waves of self-doubt, anxiety, mistrust, and pseudo-unemployment. I had already talked to two friends but continued to feel angst with no proverbial land in sight.
That's when I decided to use a never-failing life-saver: I called my mama.
We began with usual chit-chat. Weather, sister's basketball game (she made a shot, yeah!), family. Topics got deeper thereafter- I was not content, had a tendency to over-think (which sometimes had physical side-effects), still held a particular grudge. Unsurprisingly she "prescribed" God, prayer and the Good Book. Inside I groaned but knew she was right. God and I have become acquaintances.
The comforting thing is she listened to my cracking voice and convoluted explanations. She even understood and admitted she sometimes experiences what I go through. And, despite the state I am in, I am still her hijita.
I don't have concrete or easy answers, but at the moment that's OK. I talked to my mama.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
And I Will Drive 200,000 Miles...
Today my odometer hit and passed 200,000 miles.
I wished close friends were there to experience my milestone so I pulled over and texted some. Two replies trickled in:
"=) Congrats! Making it home safe?"
"Haha, congrats! That little car is quite the beast."
"Thanks!," I replied to the latter. "It resembles the owner."
No lie. My silverish-blue '95 Toyota Camry has several trips under its timing belt and took some literal beatings (slight dents courtesy my sister). Certain parts need to be replaced but it's still going; besides, the wear and tear give it personality.
I'm not sure where I'll be or when I'll hit another odometer milestone. Either way I'll do my best to have good company and my faithful little car.
Here's to the next 200,000 miles.
I wished close friends were there to experience my milestone so I pulled over and texted some. Two replies trickled in:
"=) Congrats! Making it home safe?"
"Haha, congrats! That little car is quite the beast."
"Thanks!," I replied to the latter. "It resembles the owner."
No lie. My silverish-blue '95 Toyota Camry has several trips under its timing belt and took some literal beatings (slight dents courtesy my sister). Certain parts need to be replaced but it's still going; besides, the wear and tear give it personality.
I'm not sure where I'll be or when I'll hit another odometer milestone. Either way I'll do my best to have good company and my faithful little car.
Here's to the next 200,000 miles.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Though I Drive Through the Highway in Blizzard Snow...
Blizzard 2009 gave us a white Christmas. Hadn't snowed on Christmas Eve since 1987.
Coming home was nerve-wracking, however. Visibility wasn't quite zero but I could only see a few yards in front. The last half of my trip featured snow-caked roads and 30 mph driving, complete with a graceful 180 performed by my Camry.
Before braving the conditions, I said good-bye to my friends from work. I stopped briefly at my uncle and aunt's and wished them a Merry Christmas. They wanted to know I would be OK. My cousin said I would be welcome if I didn't make it home.
On my way out of town I visited another friend and his family. His father gave me $10 for gas and lots of winter driving advice, his sister home-baked goodies, and all of them safe wishes and a Merry Christmas. Prior to taking off his dad cleaned my headlights and kicked the snow from underneath my car.
Mom and dad called me a few times before and throughout my trip. They warned me of the weather and increasing snow fall. Be careful. Drive safely. Yes, mom, yes dad.
This trek is one of the few times I feared for my life. Being insecure about my state with God didn't help. One thing gave me some comfort though- I would die knowing I was loved.
I hope I let them all know the same.
Coming home was nerve-wracking, however. Visibility wasn't quite zero but I could only see a few yards in front. The last half of my trip featured snow-caked roads and 30 mph driving, complete with a graceful 180 performed by my Camry.
Before braving the conditions, I said good-bye to my friends from work. I stopped briefly at my uncle and aunt's and wished them a Merry Christmas. They wanted to know I would be OK. My cousin said I would be welcome if I didn't make it home.
On my way out of town I visited another friend and his family. His father gave me $10 for gas and lots of winter driving advice, his sister home-baked goodies, and all of them safe wishes and a Merry Christmas. Prior to taking off his dad cleaned my headlights and kicked the snow from underneath my car.
Mom and dad called me a few times before and throughout my trip. They warned me of the weather and increasing snow fall. Be careful. Drive safely. Yes, mom, yes dad.
This trek is one of the few times I feared for my life. Being insecure about my state with God didn't help. One thing gave me some comfort though- I would die knowing I was loved.
I hope I let them all know the same.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
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