90% sure.

As I was getting my nails "did," the technician was surprised to learn that my wedding was tomorrow and I was completely calm. (Little did she know, my serenity was actually a raging hangover in sleepy disguise.) But then again, I've always been pretty calm when it came down to it. It's quite unromantic, really, especially for someone whose romanticized this day for a long time. But as I'd gotten

older (and more practical), you really DO learn "the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul" and the Beatles said it brilliantly, I just want a hand to hold, hopefully for a really long time. I mean, you're supposed to be marrying the person you love, the person you're supposed to "spend the rest of your life" with --- if you're sure of that, then... there really shouldn't be anything to stress over, is there? Sure, a wedding would make for a lovely show... but if that's all it is then... I guess that'd be something to stress over. I read somewhere you should "marry the right person" as this one decision will "determine 90% of your happiness or misery." That is some pretty scary ass shit. A whole 90%. And the 10% is shared by your kids, your parents, friends, favorite books, pastimes, bars, music, etc. Man, all I'm saying is I'm just glad I got someone to hold MY hand, drunk OR sober. But more so when I'm drunk and shit-faced and in a comatose, and someone who can still find it in their heart to dress me into something more comfortable even when I'm this alcohol-reeking, unattractive deadweight. And knowing that, just that, is what keeps me calm.

So Mr. Paolo Toledo, let's get married --- again. (90% man... 90 f*cking percent, BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA, Happy Halloween. =)

evolution

I've pretty much already accepted the reality that I don't miss writing all that much. I do remember the first time I fell in love with it --- I was 12 and I'd written my first poem... in the bathroom. It was a love poem. I didn't know squat about love at the time, I had a few innocent crushes here and there, but I'd never experienced anything remotely romantic save for when I would fantasize to be the Maid Marian to Kevin Costner's Robin Hood. Before that, I was into reading, nay, devouring Mythology books, Shakespeare (yeah, SHAKESPEARE), and Roald Dahl. That's mostly how I got the glasses, next to all the videogames I played and Jap Anime I watched on the Sci-Fi channel as a kid.

I loved to read.
Then I loved to write.
And now, I kinda have this feeling I can only love something one a time because I'm kinda excited about loving just how to live and talk and socialize and being relatable and not-relatable and personal and up-close. I mean, sure, I do that all the time. But I want to make a conscious, conscious effort of it. Perhaps, it's the new career choice that's made me aware of it. And maybe it's the culture on FB that isn't too interested in long-ass blogs as they are with pictures on instagram. I just wanna be around people and I wanna take my social skills to a whole new level. I wanna just walk around and allow society to envelop me. I wanna go on dates with friends and dinners and lunches and client meetings and meeting strangers. I wanna learn how to listen... professionally. I wanna make it a talent not just a quality. I wanna be someone people wanna be around... once they're around me.

Then later on, I can evolve to being a happy, little hermit who will find happiness in reminiscing and recaps and loving retrospects... all from the comforts of my rocking chair.

The end is truly near.

"From December 1st, we will unfortunately no longer be able to support Multiply in its current form."

....

There goes my journal.

I need to start downloading and saving all of my favorite pictures and blogs.

Starting today.

TRIBUTE

Now this is what you call a tribute:

A devoted farmer painstakingly planted a tribute to his late wife, Janet, using 6,000 oak trees to etch out a giant heart in the middle of his field in South Gloucestershire, England. Howes, 70, and a gardener spent weeks planning and setting out each oak after his wife died suddenly 15 years ago. He planted the fledgling trees across a six-acre field after carefully marking out a heart shape in one half of the grass, with the heart pointing in the direction of her childhood home. The stunning crop was captured in its full beauty after a balloonist sailed over the farmhouse and photographed the field from the air. (Yahoo)

And this is mine... hopefully:

She'll lead you down a path
There'll be tenderness in the air
Shell let you come just far enough
So you know she's really there
She'll look at you and smile
And her eyes will say
She's got a secret garden
Where everything you want
Where everything you need
Will always stay
A million miles away

Vows

I finished writing my wedding vows a few days ago.

I'd known what to write while I was drunk. It literally came to me like an already completed speech, fluid and eloquent. And it sounded nothing like all the wedding vows I'd youtubed and googled. Which I think is pretty cool. Because (and I don't mean to hate)... your husband or wife is NEVER your "bestfriend." They can be "one of your closest friends" or your "partner" for sure since there's a mutualism (prenup optional) involved. But bestfriends --- they're people you share your deepest, darkest secrets with. The guilty pleasures, the unthinkable thoughts, the unspeakable nuances. (Like seriously, do you tell your "bestfriend spouse" about you crushing on someone else? Do you tell them things about your past that you might have enjoyed much to their chagrin?) And you don't have to feel awkward about it cuz you don't share the same bed and have to see them the next day. =)

(Oh f*ck, I just googled "do you really marry your bestfriend" and all the frikkin' sites say "yeah! marry your best friend tralala, the person you most respect and love tralala." *smacks forehead*

Well, good thing I was able to write my vows from memory lest I allow myself to be corrupted by what everybody else is saying. (Sh*t, did I get it wrong??? Am I that completely clueless? Whatever.)

And those are the best epiphanies, I think. The unguarded, outtanowhere, spontaneous ones. It was so clear in my mind, I began to cry just hearing it being read to me in my head. (That was when I wished I had one of those transcribers built in my head who could read back to me what I had just said in my thoughts, in case I forgot my point.)

I don't even bother to edit it anymore lest I end up f*cking it up by trying to be too clever.

And if it's the only speech I'll end up sharing publicly, I'll make sure it's my best work yet. =)

the pains of being pure at heart

The other day I felt like absolute sh*t, I had my hands to my face and I wanted to crawl into a dark hole and just... disappear, it wasn't anything serious really, I just felt during those moments, I hated myself, like really hated myself, and I hated what was happening to me, hated the limbo I was in, I hated feeling the way I did, hated the exact position I was in, from the very coordinates of my existence, I hated being "almost 29" and learning that for the Chinese it's considered the unluckiest number, I hated having to deal with knowing that, I hated thinking that I had to deal with anything since I knew how petty I was being, I hated that I could think of all my blessings and still feel like shit, I hated how my heart was dropping, I hated that I needed to go to bed because it was late and I couldn't sleep and I couldn't just get up and go to some bar and drink by myself at 3 in the morning, and I hated how people believed in me and I couldn't deliver somehow, I hated that I was on Facebook and how not even Facebook and all the friends adding me could save me from that moment when I felt like shit, and I tried to remember all the other times I've felt this way about anything, and I know I have, countless times, yet I hated how the feeling of feeling like absolute shit seemed so foreign and new to me and it was terrible and painful and pitiful and it hurt... and I hated that I was hurting.

......


The very next day, I was completely fine.

And that's usually the case isn't it.

Only this time, I was completely aware that I was completely fine the next day and I was aware I had just about hated on so many things some hours before (also because I was sober when it happened)... and I finally figured that when people say "it's gonna be ok" ... it really is. And that's actually quite scary because then, you're made to realize that perhaps all those pains you felt, no matter how much you wanna overdramatize it, weren't really all that bad.

Then you feel stupid afterwards.

Why it pays to be second.

Good thing I loved Johnny first... and Pao second. =P