I never knew until that moment how bad it could hurt to lose something you never really had from the start. I am such a moron!
I never knew until that moment how bad it could hurt to lose something you never really had from the start. I am such a moron!
Been doing my very best to make things work with Scott, but no matter how much we try to make both ends meet; our efforts seem inadequate. We’ve grown apart and hiding behind an illusion that everythings the same as it once was. It’s not going anywhere, we had to come to a conclusion.
Here’s something I found online, don’t know exactly who wrote it. But reading through each line made me realize that nothing is ever permanent. That at some point in time, everything will come to past. So embrace each moment spend in love, you never know; this might be the last…
To let go does not mean to stop caring,
it means I can’t do it for someone else.
To let go is not to cut myself off,
it’s the realization I can’t control another.
To let go is not to enable,
but allow learning from natural consequences.
To let go is to admit powerlessness, which means
the outcome is not in my hands.
To let go is not to try to change or blame another,
it’s to make the most of myself.
To let go is not to care for,
but to care about.
To let go is not to fix,
but to be supportive.
To let go is not to judge,
but to allow another to be a human being.
To let go is not to be in the middle arranging all the outcomes,
but to allow others to affect their destinies.
To let go is not to be protective,
it’s to permit another to face reality.
To let go is not to deny,
but to accept.
To let go is not to nag, scold or argue,
but instead to search out my own shortcomings and correct them.
To let go is not to adjust everything to my desires,
but to take each day as it comes and cherish myself in it.
To let go is not to criticize or regulate anybody,
but to try to become what I dream I can be.
To let go is not to regret the past,
but to grow and live for the future.To let go is to fear less and love more
Remember: The time to love is short
My fathers house is currently being inspected and treated for “asbestos.” Some cancer causing compound that was use in building houses before [something like that]. He was going to check in to a local hotel, but I offered that he come stay in my house. It was tough convincing him [ he always have this notion in his head that he doesn't like bothering anyone ], but after mom talked to him — he finally agreed. “But only a couple days,” he said.
My father and I have this distant relationship. Probably because I’ve only seen him once or twice during my childhood. He’s been living here in the US since 1980’s [martial law, post Marcos era] and I didn’t decide to stay for good till the late 90’s, so there goes our excuse. We’ve been living separate lives for the longest time. Plus, there’s the issue of my homesexuality; which added more distance to what seems like “so already far away” relationship. [ He's ok with my sexuality, but he still has reservations. I guess, that's normal ?]
But nonetheless, we’ve established respect and occasional conversations. Most of the time, we would talk about his travels and work in the military. He was a nomad in his younger years, traveling was part of his job. He would usually share his experiences, places to see and things to do. He was my Frommer’s Guide in traveling.
These past couple months, we’ve been seeing a lot of each other. With his house and my house being renovated [mine is just minimal compared to his] both at the same time, we find ourselves talking more; from home repairs, landscape design, tools and gardening. It’s nice we’re talking and spending some time, but it just feels weird. [ The good kind of weird ]
Conversations with God. It was one touching movie. I’m no spiritual person, but the title was interesting; so I decided to watch it. It was one mans journey from life’s lowest point to it’s greatest dream. Henry Czerny gives a compelling performance in this true to life drama about the most spiritual experience a person can have. When his world crumbles around him due to a car accident, no job, no home and a debilitating injury. He demands an explanation for his suffering… and to his astonishment, receives an answer that will transform his world. Inspiring and tremendously affecting.
Love! Valour! Compassion! This big screen adaptation of playwright Terrence McNally’s Broadway hit, that revolves around the tender bonding of eight gay New Yorkers. Overtime, men meet at a picturesque lakeside home to share stories, reminisce and rekindle commitments. There’s a couple nude scenes (nothing new), but all done quite artistically. Reminded me of my days in Castro and the friends I made during my heydays. I wonder how they are?
Come Early Morning. A southern beauty whose habit of waking up in strange beds with head-ringing hangover. It’s a story about Lucy, who seem to have fallen in downward spiral of alcohol and one night stands. Lucy will have to look deep into her familial past and seek out her self destructive ways. It will uncover some secret shrouded family past and discovering the truth about the woman she has become. It’s an intimate personal drama with a country flare.
” Talk to me about the truth of religion and I’ll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I’ll listen submissively. But don’t come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don’t understand. “
Our good friend Boris called me late last night asking if we wanted to join them for brunch at the Palace of Legion of Honor (too much “of”) in the city. I was thinking of a wonderful surprise for Scott (for the massage and all) and thought the brunch would be a good idea. I’ve been to the Palace quite a few times (during the Monet exhibition way back last year), mostly with guests while showing them around.
We met Boris and his partner Chin at the front gate and they kindly showed us around. It is absolutely beautiful! On the right hand side is a scenic view of the San Francisco Bay and Golden Gate Bridge. The mid part is luscious woodland, pine trees and redwood everywhere with this huge parisian fountain that works as the rotonda. The Palace itself was a structure of beauty, felt like Queen Victoria for a while (Hahaha). Brunch was served on time, it was a four course menu (paired with jazz music by a four member band). I didn’t care much for the first course, but the entree’ was delicious — Crab Cake Benedict and the Veggie Frittata was also good (was picking from Scott’s plate, Hahaha). Then there’s the Cheese course and dessert, the Lemon Custard definitely gave a kick! (too citrusy for me though)
After brunch, we walked around the gallery. On exhibition are Masterpieces of French Jewelry. I was intrigued by the collection — daring and exotic creations by Van Cleef & Arpels, House of Cartier, Renee Lalique, George Fouquet and JAR. There are also some pieces from the private collection of Elizabeth Taylor and Irish Cantor, both elite socialites and filthy rich in their own right. During our walk, the tour guide even mentioned Imelda Marcos; some relation to jewelry pieces in the gallery. I could not beleive how much history there is in this pieces of body ornaments.
There were also art deco paintings, french-modernist piece (I beleive). But Scott was much more interested in old-world European paintings (I don’t know much about paintings, so I was not that much intrigued like I was at the jewelry pieces). He just kept on saying these names like El Greco, Rembrandt, Matisse, Watteau (have a better idea now though). At first, I was like — who? But I got my art lesson 101 from the three gurus I was with. When I heard the name Picasso and Monet, I was able to understand more of what the conversation was all about (was I a dummy or what?). There were some very nice sculptures that I really like, August Rodin was the name of the artist. And I was fascinated by the decorated ceiling as well (laid in gold and enamel), it was truly a showpiece. Whoever did that work on the ceiling must have neck stiffness for years! (just kidding)
The building itself is a work of wonder! It was like a short strip to France, with the glass pyramid outside (a miniature Pyramide du Louvre), an Arch du Triumph look-a-like and this statue in the middle they called “The Thinker” which was also a Rodin piece. The palace is surrounded by plenty of sculptures (El Cid, Holocaust and Lion statues) and the garden was lovely. No wonder local people and visitors are captivated by the palace charm.
It was just unfortunate that we had to leave by 4 pm. We had some more errands to do and there’s also traffic getting out of the city to the suburbs. It was a stunning experience! I couldn’t conceal my happiness, it was a splendid day indeed. Scott had this huge smile on his face (even while we were driving), he didn’t even realize the traffic on Highway 101 (Usually, he would get mad). “Spectacular!” as Scott said it and I couldn’t agree more…
Tip: The whole brunch and admission was reasonably priced at $40 (plus tax and gratuity). Not bad, right?
Next Destination: De Young Museum, no date yet.
[Been contemplating whether to post or not to post this since I promise to keep my silence, but I thought it's harmless and purely poetic. Besides, I needed to exhale; so here it is...]
Betrayal of a friend’s feelings, whether intentional or not, can rip friendship apart, and leave both feeling empty. I hurt someone I care about very much, and the pain was too great for her to bear.Her friendship is like a shooting star flaring briefly across the heavens, a moment in time that I will treasure forever. Maybe, with time, the garden where our friendship grew will blossom again. Do I respect her wishes and never talk to her again, or do I try to make things right? I don’t know. Until I figure that out, this poem is my emotional release.
An echo fades into the night,
an eerie mournful sound.
A shooting star disappears from sight,
and I crumble to the ground.
There is no life within this garden;
my sobs are the only sound.
I have poisoned the honeyed fountain
where your love could be found.
Dazed, I stare at the stars above,
my grieving howls fill the night!
Unintended betrayal of love
has hidden you from my sight.
I remember how it used to be
when we shared our fears and delights.
You are a treasured friend to me.
How can I make things right?
Feeling afraid, cold and lonely,
I long to tell you how I feel,
but you don’t want to hear me.
The pain for you is much too real.
Should I back away and build a wall
and block away how I feel?
Or, should I give you a call?
We both need some time to heal.
An echo fades into the night
as our friendship disappears.
How do I know what is right?
How can I ease my fears?
If I do call you again,
would the old wounds reappear?
I can’t stand to cause you pain.
Hurting you again is my worst fear!
Scott came over last night and stayed a couple hours. I wanted for him to sleep over, but he has to see patients early today. After dinner and watching some random shows on TV, he got up and said he had to leave. But before he drove off, he asked me if I wanted to get a massage. Of course, I gladly said yes!
My massage was scheduled at 12 noon with this very good looking massage therapist. He looks like a guy on the cover of some sort of male magazine (GQ or Mens Health). Anyhow, Scott smiled at me while Derek (massage therapist) was walking me into one of the suites. I think Scott planned all this, very well. He knows I don’t like men giving me massages (except for Scott, of course), but he intentionally scheduled my appointment with a guy. It may sound weird, but I just don’t like men touching my body; makes me tense rather than feeling relax.
The massage was a full hour and it went well. Maybe I shouldn’t have any pre-judgement about this whole massage thing with a guy. To be very honest, Derek was gentle and extremely friendly. Instead of falling asleep, we were conversing most of the time. It wasn’t awkward like I imagined. I was so impressed, he found my sore spots (which Scott couldn’t) and even taught me some stretching exercises. I got out of the room, feeling much better and ready to go back to bed. It was that good!
Scott gave me a spinal adjustment after and told him how I like Derek (his massage techniques). Of course, Scott gave me the speech and the “I told you so” look. It was enough to make me laugh out loud. Before I left the clinic, Derek was at the reception window getting ready to leave as well. He smiled and I went up to him, I said “thank you” and gave me a big hug. Needless to say, I made another appointment with Derek for another full hour massage two weeks from today.
It was a relaxing experience, but Scott would say it differently — it was flirtatious!
Postscript: Found out that Derek is happily engaged with a beautiful pinay (a sister, kaya di talo!) This puts a stop to my fantasy (Hahaha)
Soap Operas, my other manic-depressive fixation. (Finally admitted it! Hahaha) I get mad at myself whenever I miss an episode. (Know it’s crazy, but I am!) This is probably one the reasons why my life is so melodramatic. But I like it, couldn’t careless if my siblings and peers says “that’s just pitiful!” or “my, don’t you have anything better to do.” Oh well, I’m addicted; so I’ll just do “dedma-lou.” (Pretending to be nonchalant…)
Daytime Epiphany : I remember my college days, when I’d rush going home and miss night classes just to watch “spanish-translated-to-tagalog” soap operas like “Marimar” and “Maria la del Barrio.” (Hahaha, my dear friends — raise your hands if you’re guilty!) Don’t you just love Thalia! (What’s the name of the talking dog?)
” It takes a rather special sort of person to follow soaps. You have to be highly intellegent (to understand them) and as thick as a brick (to want to).”
“I am Me. In all the world, there is no one else exactly like me. Everything that comes out of me is authentically mine, because I alone chose it — I own everything about me: my body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, all my actions, whether they be to others or myself. I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears. I own my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes. Because I own all of me, I can become intimately acquainted with me. By so doing, I can love me and be friendly with all my parts. I know there are aspects about myself that puzzle me, and other aspects that I do not know — but as long as I am friendly and loving to myself, I can courageously and hopefully look for solutions to the puzzles and ways to find out more about me. However I look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever I think and feel at a given moment in time is authentically me. If later some parts of how I looked, sounded, thought, and felt turn out to be unfitting, I can discard that which is unfitting, keep the rest, and invent something new for that which I discarded. I can see, hear, feel, think, say, and do. I have the tools to survive, to be close to others, to be productive, and to make sense and order out of the world of people and things outside of me. I own me, and therefore, I can engineer me. I am me, and I am Okay.”
Wasn’t really hungry at lunch time (yesterday), so I decided to just grab a good read at the nearby Borders. Was suppose to purchase one. But as soon as I got in, I was greeted by these books that were on sale [the magic word says it all.] I ended buying twelve (12), was I avid or what? Seriously, the prices were just hard to resist. For the books I got, beleive me [or not] — I only spent less than $40. Was that a deal or a really good deal?
Here are some of the books I bought: