Cast My Fate to the Wind

Blue in Green (Miles Davis)

June 1, 2007

She was pretty cool to me before, and I was happy because I felt like we were beginning a beautiful friendship. But then post-vacation, after the time we were at each other’s presence, she refuses to talk to me. She didn’t answer when I sent her text messages and when I tried to call her. It was just very strange. While this may read as if I was being too persistent, I actually wasn’t. I’ve only tried to contact her thrice, and all I was trying to do was to thank her for her hospitality.

January 2, 2008

I came to the office today a tad earlier than usual. A new organizer sat atop my desk. It was left there by a girl I used to have a huge crush on (I was out of work the previous 2 weeks, so I didn’t see her when she came to visit). Why did she have to leave an organizer on my desk anyway? Such a painful reminder of her. If she wants me to remember her, couldn’t she just phone me and say, "I have something to give you let’s meet up somewhere"? Yeah, me and my silly fantasies.

So… thinking of this girl made me feel miserable. How could she be so friendly with me during the vacation days, and then treat me like I was a phantom after that? I was bothered by this for several months, because it’s not the first time I’ve met such kind of person, and I’m certainly not the only one who’s ever been "befriended" by those who do it only because I was a convenient way to shake off boredom. At modern times - or maybe just in an adult’s life - this happens a lot. Overnight friendships. One night stands. Something about how ephemeral all the warmth of such companionship never fails to depress me.

January 15, 2008

Sometimes the funniest things happen in my life. I was just complaining about how unexciting my life was when this happened: I saw that girl again.

We recognized each other, and she greeted me with the same hospitality that I recall was her characteristic. So we spoke to each other a bit. You know, the typical "comment allez vous" stuff. I really should write "how are you" instead but since I just ate French bread, I was still feeling a tad French-y. She recalled coming to my office two weeks ago and leaving a gift on my table, and she wondered if I had received it. I said I did. I never told her that I did not throw it away, nor did I tell her that I had been mad about at her. I do hope that she hadn’t read my blog. But I’m going off-tangent so, back to us. It was a conversation of two people treating each other professionally, meaning we’re pretending to like each other more than we really do. Or, at least I don’t like her as much as I appeared. I hope she likes me though.

She also said she’s being transferred to another department. She will now accommodate Makati clients instead of the Ortigas ones, although I could still contact her if I wanted to. Why, guess what, girl, pfft! I’M GLAD TO HEAR THAT YOU’RE BEING TRANSFERRED! Guess I won’t be seeing you again now that I won’t even try to contact you so out of my life you go mwuahahaha can I ask you out some time?!

May 19, 2008

Woman, you ought to know how annoyed I was when I heard that you’re coming here at an unspecified time tomorrow. I was neck deep into finishing the job assigned to me, you see, when that announcement was made and it disrupted all my train of thoughts. I spent the rest of the day fumbling about, not convinced that I wasn’t having a nervous breakdown, although somehow I made it home without being carried by stretchers.

May 20, 2008

Despite saying too often about how much I don’t like being reminded of you, the rest of me are more fond of you than my words would admit. They like you so much, that I need not see you to know you’re already here. I can sense you from the way you speak, that unmistakable Ilonggo-accented Filipino words being muttered like the way a saxophone could play any notes beautifully. My brain suspends thinking about all mundane things they pass off as logic when you’re present. Every time you giggle the sound of it reverberates inside my ears for hours as if I need to let marinate every nuances of it. You look like a splotch of colors in the middle of an unused canvas that begs to be painted. 

Did you notice, the moment you held my elbow, that I was incapable of talking, incapable of thinking straight besides wishing that this moment lasted longer? Did you count how many times I said something very random and how I would get embarrassed after that? Did you realize how frustrated I was that I only have to remember 5 minutes of the span of time we talked because that was how long it lasted, because the world had set to expedite this meeting? Why did you have to leave so soon? 

I wrote too often about my reluctance of seeing you again. Today I realized that these words were flatulence, and that I was a fool all along for not being honest with my feelings. Truth is, I was indescribably glad I saw you last Monday, even if I didn’t know if the smile you gave me meant anything, because that smile could’ve been just a fake bankteller one. But that didn’t matter. It also didn’t matter that I knew nil about you. The time you got on that cab, and as I watch it drove farther until you were merely a dot, I felt a sense of loss, a loss of vibrancy in my already dreary life. It only proved one thing that I was all along too hesitant to admit: I felt strongly about you.

I have taken everything in. And that’s why I’m letting everything go.

If you’ve been reading my blog and have been aware of this love-and-hate dilemma I trouble myself with whenever I think of you, know that I have let go of the hating and I will no longer hold you accountable for whatever anger and sadness I have felt in the past. That is all you need to know, and I can accept whatever that happens, even if it means never seeing you again. Sure, I still want to know you better, and if I can meet with you again I would feel terrific. But if that never happens, I’ll be fine, and will still be cheering on you from afar. Because, like how Toni Morrison said it, sometimes, seeing your kind of beauty is enough. I don’t need to photograph, paint or even remember it. I don’t need to write about it or even have someone to share it with. I just let go, because I can.