I confirmed something important and life-changing yesterday: that I probably don't have a religion anymore; I'm nothing but spiritual. I also seem to be borderline New Ager. I used to think I was just superstitious, that I have a slightly odd interest in energies and the power of nature, spirits, otherworldly creatures, superhuman abilities, rituals and the use of different mediums (crystals, cards, astrology) and other spiritual concepts that would have hardcore... believers (let's not drop names) burning me alive if they found out.
I thought these were just personal interests... in angels, the universe, unorthodox takes on the religion I grew up learning. However, I was endlessly fascinated and inspired by a number of philosophied, religions and beliefs we studied all throughout high school and college--Shintoism, Taoism, Buddhism, Hinduism. I, of course, selected what I believed was good (whatever is positive, makes sense, matches what I believe in, not too extreme and does not cause harm to anyone or anything) from each religious belief and used those concepts to fortify my spirituality. I guess I didn't know what I was doing back then; I didn't realize I was unconsciously preparing myself for a bigger event--acceptance, and what I think was something like a rebirth; enlightenment.
Yes, I still believe in God. No, He is not a specific God; not Yahweh, not Allah, not the Christian God... He is God, period. Yes, I believe in Jesus, and for some strange reason, I still do believe he is God in the form of man. He is the Son of God. Do I mean this literally? No. If, one day, we are able to prove he isn't the son of God, I wouldn't mind. Jesus was an inspiration, he was a good man and he will forever be a symbol of peace and love. I love Jesus. Do I believe in the Catholic miracles performed by saints and those who have been touched by God? Yes. Why? I am convinced. Could these possibly be hoaxes? Sure.
Am I open to the argument that these may all just be misinterpretations of illnesses, fringe, unexplained occurences or even... lies? Yes.
Do I believe in a God? Yes. Why? Personal human experience. I feel a higher presence full of love, and I feel an invisible hand that guides me when I am at my lowest lows; when I absolutely couldn't have figure out what to do with my life anymore.
What kind of God do I believe in? Definitely not the Old Testament God, which, I am disappointed to say, most of my loved ones believe in, no matter how absurd the 'words' people (believers) claim come from his mouth. What are examples of these? Same sex relationships, premarital sex, many misogynistic ideas, unfair and nonsensical "rules" to live by, et cetera.
I believe in a loving and forgiving God, a God that doesn't judge irrationally.
I believe that God created all living things (not out of nowhere, because... don't we have science to explain how things come to be? This is not to be confused with what I just said--because God caused all this, and that is what I believe) out of love, because He has so much of it and wants to share it. God, to me, is like a parental figure. He nurtures, guides and educates; but more than that, he encourages us to use own own free will, and our strength to get by.
Is there a heaven or a hell? Possibly. We don't know. Do I believe in reward and punishment in the afterlife? Definitely--these are not dictated by God (because wouldn't that be cruel? He is a loving God). These are all caused by ENERGIES.
This is the stupidest interpretation of "God's love" that I have ever heard:
God created us out of love and gave us free will. We are to do good (by "his"/the believers standards), otherwise we will face punishment.
Because God is the Alpha and the Omega, the all-seeing eye, he knows exactly who will do good and bad in their lifetimes. Why would he allow a bad seed to rot in hell, when he created them out of love and knowingly gave them free will? Does that sound like a loving God? No. I therefore reject these kinds of ideas abouy God.
I believe the Bible is mostly (emphasis on that word) history and culture written in the form of literature. It contains the word of God, but because it has been handed down through, translated and interpreted by countless generetions, it is highly possible that the original meaning has never been figured out or has changed in time.
I write a shitton of poetry with a shitton of symbols in them. 1000 years from now, they will have a whole different meaning based on the interpretations people passed down over the years. What could simply be about my childhood might get interpreted as an illness due to alcohol (if, one day, people find out I douse depression with shots of vodka).
I'm not sure where I belong anymore; because I'm sure many won't accept me. In a way I found comfort in the thought that there are people like Pope Francis who are so open to unorthodox Christian ideas. I guess that's kind of what I am--part unorthodox Christian and part... New Ager...ish?
I had an interesting discussion with my mom abouy religion. It seemed she was the first one to have agreed with me when I told her about my atypical Chtistian beliefs. I brought up Pope Francis and how people were saying he was the antichrist, that there will be a new world order, etc. I suggested that perhaps, the word 'antichrist' could have a different meaning--'Christ' being the traditional New Testament Christ, and not the essence of the real Christ, who is a symbol of love.
If that's what 'Christ' actually means in 'antichrist' (in that long dreaded prediction), then that simply means that perso , the 'antichrist', is non-traditional, unconventional, unorthodox. It means he understands the essence of Christ; the essence of God, and is more accepting of people and more understanding of everyone's humanity.
I've observed this in Pope Francis. Traditionalists are shocked at how accepting he is of homosexuals and non-Christians. I am glad that an icon from the Catholic church is able to show such courage and openness with his own beliefs. It's surprising, yet refreshing; and rather delightful. New world order? Check. If he is the anti-old-school-teachings-Jesus, and is showing the world how Jesus would actually act if he were here in this time and age, people of all religions are bound to unite. Somehow. You'd still have the fanatics and traditionalists, but people from different religions and cultures accepting and loving each other sounds pretty damn good to me.
'One religion' may not mean one literal religion. It could mean that people respond to one message, one driving factor: love. No language, racial, religious, age, or cultural barriers there--everybody knows what love is and how to express it. It will be the language we speak, what we believe in, and what will unite us.
Sounds nice. I just hope my interpretations are correct.
So armageddon, 'the end is coming', according to a lot of religions. The end of what? A lot of bullshit. Hatred and rejection, maybe war, maybe pain. Maybe. It sounds too ideal, but what if it's possible for people to be mostly united, save for the really stubborn ones?
Maybe this is what the age of Aquarius is. Peace, understanding, acceptance, and love.
What reason is there to think negatively about the end?
Let's not discuss death, though. I'm not quite there yet. I still stay up hours and hours scared shitless when I think about it.
-Lilith
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Friday, August 1, 2014
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Lilith: warming up to my blog
When I was single, I had all sorts of art-related activities to keep my mind busy; distracted. Although, even then, I didn't constantly write poetry or draw, and I had little drive to take those talents seriously, I was always occupied (or preoccupied). Now that I am getting in touch with my old self, I remember how it felt like, about five or six years back. I always had a melancholic air about me... which disappear every time I was having fun with good friends or my close cousins and relatives. It was a lot easier to understand who I was, what type of person I was, back then, I think. Although I wasn't as open as I am now, I didn't confuse people so much before.
I still give people wrong impressions now. Just different ones. Much better ones, I guess? I don't really know. But I was attuned to myself a long time ago. After dating Miles* for a while, I forgot to look into myself; to converse with myself. I used to literally, silently speak with myself.
"What the hell, Lilith? Did you really just say that? Ugh, yeah, I know, what was embarrassing, can we just forget about it? Listen to some music, that should help you forget! Right, I'll do that."
My older blogs even had comical portions that featured the three parts of my consciousness arguing/conversing. It's funny, and I could write endlessly, and with my eyes closed; I think, because I was so aware of my thoughts and feelings. I realize how raw my blogs could have been years ago when I religiously maintained them.
I've always been lonely, and I think this is the very first time I'll admit that. On here, an anonymous blog, too! I wonder why it's so hard to preserve friendships. It may be because it's hard to find friends that I actually like. There's always something that puts me off. I have friends that are so like me, yet their vast knowledge or their busy schedules or their fast-paced lifestyle kind of makes me want to take a step back. Sometimes, they really do matter to me, but I am just another random face to them. I've also been used by "friends" numerous times. These aren't even "friends". Jesus, I'm this old, and I still have trouble keeping company. What the fuck.
I have friends that are true soulmates, but distance and priorities keep me apart from them. I'm still happy we try to get in touch and we miss each other. I'm not sure how to take the changes in our lives, though. However, the fact that we remain friends despite the separation makes me feel warm inside.
I know I can't depend on them, though; and they probably think the same about me. I'm not sure. The thing is, though, they're doing better than I am, and they're fine. I'm not, and that doesn't make me feel like a worthy friend. I feel like I got stuck (pushed back, rather?) in the past after the "big incident" with Miles.
Blogging, writing, listening to music, watching films and series, reading, drawing, et cetera: these always kept me busy back then. I sometimes felt like I was forcing myself to do these things, and honestly, I don't go out enough. I think we've established that the reason for this is because all my real friends have moved on and it's difficult to find new quality friends (also: especially because I have left two jobs and didn't get to connect properly) nowadays.
Despite having an active mind, I was constantly drawn to sad and gloomy emotions, situations, people, things... I think this really is where art comes in. I was so pensive. I wrote beautifully about the most insignificant things. I paid attention to very significant life issues and write extensively, intelligently about them. I was so gloomy, yet I was ten times funnier. How was that possible? How am I so boring now that I am more open, more vocal, less shy, more assertive and confident? How strange is that?
Ah. Of course. I gave all of this up for one person: Miles.
I used to hang out with my close college friends after school. But you know what they say: love is a drug. I got addicted to it. First, it was JC*--and a number of guys I was talking with, too, at the time. I was so into the fact that they might be into me; I guess it was because I needed a simulation of a relationship or dating (in order to write about it?). I wasn't ready to date anyone, mainly because I haven't found anyone who was that worth it, but I wanted to write about love and pain, and the beauty of sadness/loneliness that comes with it. I was so into art, so into love, I was basically in love with everything around me. Everything meant something, and I would write about it. Every small incident was a story. Everything inspired me. I was constantly daydreaming.
When Miles and I started getting more steady, I would hurry home, or wake up hours before I really should. I'd match my sleeping schedule with his so I could spend more time with him. I spent too much time with him and put him above everything. I'd rather stay home and speak with him that go out with friends or family. It was all about him. And somehow, I believed he put a lot of effort in making it about me, too.
But now that I look at everything--at us--from the very beginning to now--all those years--I realize that he only really had time for me because his schedule permitted it. If he had the option to speak with me while he was out doing something, he'd do it. But I really am... just an inconsistent part of his schedule. Everything--work, his health, his friends and family--else in his life goes first. I am just... something he squeezes into his sched.
Meanwhile, I--
Picture this. I am working on seven projects on a big table: it looks organized, busy. Miles walks over-- "Hi, Lilith. Ugh, I'm so hungry."
In a matter of two seconds, I've swept all my papers from the table with my right arm, and grabbed prepared meals from under the now clean table, so we could eat together.
Yeah, that's how I treat him. I'm never prepared for anything else in my life but him.
I wonder why it hurts me that our goals are changing for the worse (for our relationship). You'd think by now that our plans are now more in sync, because we're getting older and more and more eligible for settling down. When he was red, I was blue. So I worked hard in considering being red. Now that I'm closer to being red, he decides he's going to be blue. Yes, I know people change, but why are things turning out this way? If I knew this was going to happen, that he was going to consider a future for himself without me, I would've just ignored him five years ago. I would have never let this relationship happen.
The reason why I stopped going out, socializing, taking care of myself, doing art, BLOGGING, is because everything had become him. He had become everyone, and everything to me. My diary, too. Now that he's not around, I feel so uneasy... naked, even. Because I have nothing, no one. Before I realized it, he had become my world. I used to promise myself never to let that happen... with anyone. It isn't worth it. Well, I guess I taught myself a lesson well. I just learned it the hard way. This is something I will someday teach my daughter... at least there's that. Someone will benefit from this pain someday. It's okay.
My blog used to be.... mostly my everything. I wrote about my feelings, every single insignificant occurrence in my life. I stopped because I had him. I told him everything. He knew everything. And what do you know, he doesn't really tell me everything. What's the point?
Blogging feels alien to me when I first start writing after stopping for a long time. I think I should warm up to it again, because it helps... somehow. Crying and drinking and watching shallow movies have started to lose their effect on me. They just wear me out and make me uglier.
I wish I would never stop blogging. I don't think I have to commit to this a hundred percent, like I used to, with my past journals... but I hope I keep this one alive. I know it will keep me sane.
Lilith
--
*Code name/s
I still give people wrong impressions now. Just different ones. Much better ones, I guess? I don't really know. But I was attuned to myself a long time ago. After dating Miles* for a while, I forgot to look into myself; to converse with myself. I used to literally, silently speak with myself.
"What the hell, Lilith? Did you really just say that? Ugh, yeah, I know, what was embarrassing, can we just forget about it? Listen to some music, that should help you forget! Right, I'll do that."
My older blogs even had comical portions that featured the three parts of my consciousness arguing/conversing. It's funny, and I could write endlessly, and with my eyes closed; I think, because I was so aware of my thoughts and feelings. I realize how raw my blogs could have been years ago when I religiously maintained them.
I've always been lonely, and I think this is the very first time I'll admit that. On here, an anonymous blog, too! I wonder why it's so hard to preserve friendships. It may be because it's hard to find friends that I actually like. There's always something that puts me off. I have friends that are so like me, yet their vast knowledge or their busy schedules or their fast-paced lifestyle kind of makes me want to take a step back. Sometimes, they really do matter to me, but I am just another random face to them. I've also been used by "friends" numerous times. These aren't even "friends". Jesus, I'm this old, and I still have trouble keeping company. What the fuck.
I have friends that are true soulmates, but distance and priorities keep me apart from them. I'm still happy we try to get in touch and we miss each other. I'm not sure how to take the changes in our lives, though. However, the fact that we remain friends despite the separation makes me feel warm inside.
I know I can't depend on them, though; and they probably think the same about me. I'm not sure. The thing is, though, they're doing better than I am, and they're fine. I'm not, and that doesn't make me feel like a worthy friend. I feel like I got stuck (pushed back, rather?) in the past after the "big incident" with Miles.
Blogging, writing, listening to music, watching films and series, reading, drawing, et cetera: these always kept me busy back then. I sometimes felt like I was forcing myself to do these things, and honestly, I don't go out enough. I think we've established that the reason for this is because all my real friends have moved on and it's difficult to find new quality friends (also: especially because I have left two jobs and didn't get to connect properly) nowadays.
Despite having an active mind, I was constantly drawn to sad and gloomy emotions, situations, people, things... I think this really is where art comes in. I was so pensive. I wrote beautifully about the most insignificant things. I paid attention to very significant life issues and write extensively, intelligently about them. I was so gloomy, yet I was ten times funnier. How was that possible? How am I so boring now that I am more open, more vocal, less shy, more assertive and confident? How strange is that?
Ah. Of course. I gave all of this up for one person: Miles.
I used to hang out with my close college friends after school. But you know what they say: love is a drug. I got addicted to it. First, it was JC*--and a number of guys I was talking with, too, at the time. I was so into the fact that they might be into me; I guess it was because I needed a simulation of a relationship or dating (in order to write about it?). I wasn't ready to date anyone, mainly because I haven't found anyone who was that worth it, but I wanted to write about love and pain, and the beauty of sadness/loneliness that comes with it. I was so into art, so into love, I was basically in love with everything around me. Everything meant something, and I would write about it. Every small incident was a story. Everything inspired me. I was constantly daydreaming.
When Miles and I started getting more steady, I would hurry home, or wake up hours before I really should. I'd match my sleeping schedule with his so I could spend more time with him. I spent too much time with him and put him above everything. I'd rather stay home and speak with him that go out with friends or family. It was all about him. And somehow, I believed he put a lot of effort in making it about me, too.
But now that I look at everything--at us--from the very beginning to now--all those years--I realize that he only really had time for me because his schedule permitted it. If he had the option to speak with me while he was out doing something, he'd do it. But I really am... just an inconsistent part of his schedule. Everything--work, his health, his friends and family--else in his life goes first. I am just... something he squeezes into his sched.
Meanwhile, I--
Picture this. I am working on seven projects on a big table: it looks organized, busy. Miles walks over-- "Hi, Lilith. Ugh, I'm so hungry."
In a matter of two seconds, I've swept all my papers from the table with my right arm, and grabbed prepared meals from under the now clean table, so we could eat together.
Yeah, that's how I treat him. I'm never prepared for anything else in my life but him.
I wonder why it hurts me that our goals are changing for the worse (for our relationship). You'd think by now that our plans are now more in sync, because we're getting older and more and more eligible for settling down. When he was red, I was blue. So I worked hard in considering being red. Now that I'm closer to being red, he decides he's going to be blue. Yes, I know people change, but why are things turning out this way? If I knew this was going to happen, that he was going to consider a future for himself without me, I would've just ignored him five years ago. I would have never let this relationship happen.
The reason why I stopped going out, socializing, taking care of myself, doing art, BLOGGING, is because everything had become him. He had become everyone, and everything to me. My diary, too. Now that he's not around, I feel so uneasy... naked, even. Because I have nothing, no one. Before I realized it, he had become my world. I used to promise myself never to let that happen... with anyone. It isn't worth it. Well, I guess I taught myself a lesson well. I just learned it the hard way. This is something I will someday teach my daughter... at least there's that. Someone will benefit from this pain someday. It's okay.
My blog used to be.... mostly my everything. I wrote about my feelings, every single insignificant occurrence in my life. I stopped because I had him. I told him everything. He knew everything. And what do you know, he doesn't really tell me everything. What's the point?
Blogging feels alien to me when I first start writing after stopping for a long time. I think I should warm up to it again, because it helps... somehow. Crying and drinking and watching shallow movies have started to lose their effect on me. They just wear me out and make me uglier.
I wish I would never stop blogging. I don't think I have to commit to this a hundred percent, like I used to, with my past journals... but I hope I keep this one alive. I know it will keep me sane.
Lilith
--
*Code name/s
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Lilith: Falling Out
Love
When Miles* and I met, we were both idealistic teenagers. We knew the distance was a hindrance to our relationship, but we met halfway, no matter what, and did our best to make up for what kept us apart. We talked for hours and hours everyday; we talked as much as we can. We couldn't get enough of one another. Each year, we got to know each other better; each year, it got easier to get mad at each other. Despite that, we stayed together. We were probably so glued together that even when we wanted to stay apart, we couldn't. We were inevitable.
Dreams
We were from different industries, all right. We knew this early on. As we set out to pursue our own dreams, we made sure that it'll work out for us in the long run. We had a few years to climb that ladder (our dreams); and once we're there, we would get more liberty. We won't have any problems getting together, because we followed the right path--a path that was our own. It didn't matter that it will take me a few years, having jobs unrelated to what I really wanted to do. What mattered was that in the end, we still get to fulfill that. We supported each other. Of course, we promised each other to do our best not to let our dreams get between us--because we were part of those dreams.
We were in each other's minds every step of the way. We considered each other with every decision we made. We were far from perfect, but we still had our dreams in mind--and so we continue to pursue them. No matter what, we had to achieve what we wanted.
Ambition
I still want to be a Photographer. I think he still has the same dream he had five years ago. However, we both share the same current situation: we're stuck with jobs that we are good at, but don't have much to do with what we really want. First, we swore we would only let ourselves be separated for a couple of year. Additional years after that frustrated us. Him, actually. I was all right with it at first, considering that I needed more time working my way up. I actually wanted a promotion that would allow me to buy the equipment and pay for the training. As I started to like what I was doing for work, I kind of put my real dream aside from the time being.
Meanwhile, his difficult job that gave him no freedom to........ do anything he wished, was becoming a bigger threat to our relationship. With his temporary assignment abroad, and the very limited time for communication (barely an hour a week), and my distrust and paranoia, our already rusty relationship was literally about to fall apart.
I had been so frustrated with him recently. He was being selfish, rude, impatient, inconsiderate, oh, I could go on... and of course, his lack of effort to try to be nice was frustrating as well. You can leave him alone without any follow-up, and he will not be better. You can follow up, and he'll get mad at you for pointing out "negative things about" him that he claims to "know already", and... yes, you guessed it; still no improvement.
I need to fix myself, too. But knowing he is NOT doing anything to make himself better makes it hard for me to change. The only real problems about me? I am short with him, and I don't trust him enough. I identify the problem in our relationship and discuss it with him and come up with an action plan we both agreed would work. But whether or not I stop being a bitch, he still continues being an ass. Can you blame me 100% for blowing my top all the time? I needed to control myself--and he did, too. He doesn't hold back at all.
Realization hit me hard a couple of days ago when we fought. This isn't new--I knew at least a year ago that he was beginning to fall out of love. If that wasn't bad enough, I could tell he was starting to love me less and less. I think we're almost at the end of this relationship. He was ready to give me up. Whenever I think of leaving, he would stop me. He would get mad at me, even, because he thinks I'm just going to give up. But recently, when I bring up that possibility, he would agree to it. It was no issue to him.
In fact, before our last fight, he himself was trying to push me away. He was justifying his reason for a breakup--I didn't care anyway. He said that, at least three times. He then scared me, on purpose, by telling me he decided to take a job that will make things worse for us, that will keep us apart longer, make this relationship harsher and more painful. He was attacking me. He was trying to hurt me. He knew it would hurt me, so he said it. Later on, when I told him I was shocked he said that (he promised me, when he first started working, that he will take the safest job and one that was most convenient for our relationship so we wouldn't spend time apart so much) he probably lied to me about his job, he was quick to defend himself. "No, this is what I meant". He was quick to feign innocence. I misunderstood. I took it the wrong way. He didn't say it right. Yeah, you didn't just try to smash my head with words. Uh huh. Of course, my loving partner.
He told me he basically had no choice but to go with that job. After I pointed a shaking finger at him, and after he quickly held his hands up in innocence, he said it was the best choice among other options out there. So, there were options, then. The others just so happened to keep our relationship intact.... but he chose the one that would destroy us.
He decided it was the best choice for us (he was still covering his ass; if he weren't mad at me, he would've sobbingly informed me that none of the job options pleased him one bit because they all sacrificed something) for us (without informing me or considering my thoughts or feelings), and that all I have to do is "be stronger for him".
So, as the poor woman, the shadow of this man, I shall just quietly and meekly accept my fate--I will follow him wherever he goes, and take the pain like a champ. He shall decide for our future, and I shall have no say and just "be strong for him" so we can stay together. No, fucker. He was taking me for granted.
I gave so many things up for him--people, time, my health, my happiness. I sacrificed my career, friendships, a social life, good relationships with my relatives, money, without thinking twice--for him. Now he's just had enough of that. He's too sick of me (he used to say no matter what happens he'll love me and stay with me. He would tolerate the worst of my sins and I would do the same. Now it takes a single word to anger him and make him up and leave me... unfortunately I am not the same. At least not anymore.) now that he's finding ways to get away from me. This was probably how things ended with his last ex. He just wanted to get rid of her; but he couldn't even when she was crazy, because she was needy and he felt guilty. If guilt is the only thing keeping him around, God, help me, because I don't know what to do with myself.
This is going to sound pathetic, but he's all I really got left. He's the only genuine thing I can rely on. I would mention two others--my parents--but it would be selfish to do so. They're sick, and stressed, and have heavier crosses to bear that I just don't want to add to that weight. I don't have anything and I don't have anyone else. Before I met him, I had everything. I lost everything because I chose him. Now he's leaving me, too.
He took everything back. He said he wouldn't take that job but there's no telling what happens. I say there IS. He can avoid that at all costs, if he wants this relationship. If he picks it, then I know where his priorities lie. That will be the final factor that will determine whether or not he still feels a thing for me.
He said that he would pick that job because it would give him more importance. And he will earn more money. The thing is, I don't believe the money part. He's been bragging about earning so much since he started working, and he's been broke for five years. The money argument won't work anymore. So, really, it's because he wanted that job. Here's mister hurry-the-fuck-over-here-so-I-can-wake-up-next-to-you-every-day, telling me to wait for 8,709 more years for him because he's all LOLJK HEY BRB GOTTA TAKE THIS AWESOME JOB STAY THERE, STAY. STAY. GOOD GIRL! BE STRONG FOR ME. KBYE
Moreover, he solidified his selfishness and inconsideration by saying he doesn't want to live a mediocre life and he doesn't want a "mediocre wife" who doesn't support him. He wants the perfect job and a perfect wife. The thing is, the job he's talking about isn't his dream. Of course I don't fucking support it. That wasn't the deal. It will hurt our relationship. Why would I be up for it? Why have the tables turned? He was the one who urged me to move in with him on our first and second years together. Now that I want that, he wants the opposite and wanted to pursue his career instead. He did everything to justify his decision. He said so many WRONG things, I hope he was sober. I don't want him to say it was the alcohol or stress or lack of sleep talking. If he was going to say hurtful things, he better not be fuzzy-brained.
I told him he can't always have everything he wanted. He said he could, because his career and his relationship are both under his control.
Wow. I really am just an object, right? A shadow?
Meaning, no matter what, he has to have a perfect career and relationship--so he'll do anything for these to happen. If he had to get a better girl, one who is a total lost puppy unlike me, he will. He'll get rid of me. Because pursuing the career you want is easy.
Mediocre VS Non-Mediocre
He said he wants to be the best in anything he does. (Really? Why aren't you being the best boyfriend to me? You've been treating me like SHIT!) He wasn't a black belt for nothing.
I told him, sorry, I don't share the same sentiment. This was the first time I admitted this, even to myself. My mother called my grades mediocre, and I would get shit from my parents for having average grades--in elementary school, high school, and college. I didn't aim for the top. I thought it was silly. I secretly fantasized about doing that--about being just like my mom and my cousins... honor students who excelled in sports, dancing, debating, writing, organizing, leading, singing, etc. It was the first time I really accepted that it was okay to be who I am. I didn't care about being the best. I just wanted the best. I didn't have to be it.
I thought about all the things I did--from playing the guitar to writing to creating art to singing to doing martial arts to keeping fit. I never completely committed to any of them. They were all very important to me, but I didn't feel the need to constantly improve myself in them. They were like flings. They were like booty calls to me. I knew photography was the one; I knew it was the career I'll eventually find myself marrying. But what? I'm stuck with my booty calls 'til then. I am not a pro in any of these, not even close. Mediocre. That's right. I just want to do what I want to do, be able to do it properly with no pressure to be perfect at it. Unlike him.
Reality
I remember my best friend telling me a couple of months ago that she almost broke up with her boyfriend.
Guess why?
She decided on some things on her own. She made plans for her future without his consideration. Without consulting him. I thought it was the strangest thing to get mad about. Why would he get mad? They weren't married.
I didn't get it 'til it happened to me.
Tomorrow, when I get home, I'll get myself shitfaced.
Lilith
--
*Code name/s
When Miles* and I met, we were both idealistic teenagers. We knew the distance was a hindrance to our relationship, but we met halfway, no matter what, and did our best to make up for what kept us apart. We talked for hours and hours everyday; we talked as much as we can. We couldn't get enough of one another. Each year, we got to know each other better; each year, it got easier to get mad at each other. Despite that, we stayed together. We were probably so glued together that even when we wanted to stay apart, we couldn't. We were inevitable.
Dreams
We were from different industries, all right. We knew this early on. As we set out to pursue our own dreams, we made sure that it'll work out for us in the long run. We had a few years to climb that ladder (our dreams); and once we're there, we would get more liberty. We won't have any problems getting together, because we followed the right path--a path that was our own. It didn't matter that it will take me a few years, having jobs unrelated to what I really wanted to do. What mattered was that in the end, we still get to fulfill that. We supported each other. Of course, we promised each other to do our best not to let our dreams get between us--because we were part of those dreams.
We were in each other's minds every step of the way. We considered each other with every decision we made. We were far from perfect, but we still had our dreams in mind--and so we continue to pursue them. No matter what, we had to achieve what we wanted.
Ambition
I still want to be a Photographer. I think he still has the same dream he had five years ago. However, we both share the same current situation: we're stuck with jobs that we are good at, but don't have much to do with what we really want. First, we swore we would only let ourselves be separated for a couple of year. Additional years after that frustrated us. Him, actually. I was all right with it at first, considering that I needed more time working my way up. I actually wanted a promotion that would allow me to buy the equipment and pay for the training. As I started to like what I was doing for work, I kind of put my real dream aside from the time being.
Meanwhile, his difficult job that gave him no freedom to........ do anything he wished, was becoming a bigger threat to our relationship. With his temporary assignment abroad, and the very limited time for communication (barely an hour a week), and my distrust and paranoia, our already rusty relationship was literally about to fall apart.
I had been so frustrated with him recently. He was being selfish, rude, impatient, inconsiderate, oh, I could go on... and of course, his lack of effort to try to be nice was frustrating as well. You can leave him alone without any follow-up, and he will not be better. You can follow up, and he'll get mad at you for pointing out "negative things about" him that he claims to "know already", and... yes, you guessed it; still no improvement.
I need to fix myself, too. But knowing he is NOT doing anything to make himself better makes it hard for me to change. The only real problems about me? I am short with him, and I don't trust him enough. I identify the problem in our relationship and discuss it with him and come up with an action plan we both agreed would work. But whether or not I stop being a bitch, he still continues being an ass. Can you blame me 100% for blowing my top all the time? I needed to control myself--and he did, too. He doesn't hold back at all.
Realization hit me hard a couple of days ago when we fought. This isn't new--I knew at least a year ago that he was beginning to fall out of love. If that wasn't bad enough, I could tell he was starting to love me less and less. I think we're almost at the end of this relationship. He was ready to give me up. Whenever I think of leaving, he would stop me. He would get mad at me, even, because he thinks I'm just going to give up. But recently, when I bring up that possibility, he would agree to it. It was no issue to him.
In fact, before our last fight, he himself was trying to push me away. He was justifying his reason for a breakup--I didn't care anyway. He said that, at least three times. He then scared me, on purpose, by telling me he decided to take a job that will make things worse for us, that will keep us apart longer, make this relationship harsher and more painful. He was attacking me. He was trying to hurt me. He knew it would hurt me, so he said it. Later on, when I told him I was shocked he said that (he promised me, when he first started working, that he will take the safest job and one that was most convenient for our relationship so we wouldn't spend time apart so much) he probably lied to me about his job, he was quick to defend himself. "No, this is what I meant". He was quick to feign innocence. I misunderstood. I took it the wrong way. He didn't say it right. Yeah, you didn't just try to smash my head with words. Uh huh. Of course, my loving partner.
He told me he basically had no choice but to go with that job. After I pointed a shaking finger at him, and after he quickly held his hands up in innocence, he said it was the best choice among other options out there. So, there were options, then. The others just so happened to keep our relationship intact.... but he chose the one that would destroy us.
He decided it was the best choice for us (he was still covering his ass; if he weren't mad at me, he would've sobbingly informed me that none of the job options pleased him one bit because they all sacrificed something) for us (without informing me or considering my thoughts or feelings), and that all I have to do is "be stronger for him".
So, as the poor woman, the shadow of this man, I shall just quietly and meekly accept my fate--I will follow him wherever he goes, and take the pain like a champ. He shall decide for our future, and I shall have no say and just "be strong for him" so we can stay together. No, fucker. He was taking me for granted.
I gave so many things up for him--people, time, my health, my happiness. I sacrificed my career, friendships, a social life, good relationships with my relatives, money, without thinking twice--for him. Now he's just had enough of that. He's too sick of me (he used to say no matter what happens he'll love me and stay with me. He would tolerate the worst of my sins and I would do the same. Now it takes a single word to anger him and make him up and leave me... unfortunately I am not the same. At least not anymore.) now that he's finding ways to get away from me. This was probably how things ended with his last ex. He just wanted to get rid of her; but he couldn't even when she was crazy, because she was needy and he felt guilty. If guilt is the only thing keeping him around, God, help me, because I don't know what to do with myself.
This is going to sound pathetic, but he's all I really got left. He's the only genuine thing I can rely on. I would mention two others--my parents--but it would be selfish to do so. They're sick, and stressed, and have heavier crosses to bear that I just don't want to add to that weight. I don't have anything and I don't have anyone else. Before I met him, I had everything. I lost everything because I chose him. Now he's leaving me, too.
He took everything back. He said he wouldn't take that job but there's no telling what happens. I say there IS. He can avoid that at all costs, if he wants this relationship. If he picks it, then I know where his priorities lie. That will be the final factor that will determine whether or not he still feels a thing for me.
He said that he would pick that job because it would give him more importance. And he will earn more money. The thing is, I don't believe the money part. He's been bragging about earning so much since he started working, and he's been broke for five years. The money argument won't work anymore. So, really, it's because he wanted that job. Here's mister hurry-the-fuck-over-here-so-I-can-wake-up-next-to-you-every-day, telling me to wait for 8,709 more years for him because he's all LOLJK HEY BRB GOTTA TAKE THIS AWESOME JOB STAY THERE, STAY. STAY. GOOD GIRL! BE STRONG FOR ME. KBYE
Moreover, he solidified his selfishness and inconsideration by saying he doesn't want to live a mediocre life and he doesn't want a "mediocre wife" who doesn't support him. He wants the perfect job and a perfect wife. The thing is, the job he's talking about isn't his dream. Of course I don't fucking support it. That wasn't the deal. It will hurt our relationship. Why would I be up for it? Why have the tables turned? He was the one who urged me to move in with him on our first and second years together. Now that I want that, he wants the opposite and wanted to pursue his career instead. He did everything to justify his decision. He said so many WRONG things, I hope he was sober. I don't want him to say it was the alcohol or stress or lack of sleep talking. If he was going to say hurtful things, he better not be fuzzy-brained.
I told him he can't always have everything he wanted. He said he could, because his career and his relationship are both under his control.
Wow. I really am just an object, right? A shadow?
Meaning, no matter what, he has to have a perfect career and relationship--so he'll do anything for these to happen. If he had to get a better girl, one who is a total lost puppy unlike me, he will. He'll get rid of me. Because pursuing the career you want is easy.
Mediocre VS Non-Mediocre
He said he wants to be the best in anything he does. (Really? Why aren't you being the best boyfriend to me? You've been treating me like SHIT!) He wasn't a black belt for nothing.
I told him, sorry, I don't share the same sentiment. This was the first time I admitted this, even to myself. My mother called my grades mediocre, and I would get shit from my parents for having average grades--in elementary school, high school, and college. I didn't aim for the top. I thought it was silly. I secretly fantasized about doing that--about being just like my mom and my cousins... honor students who excelled in sports, dancing, debating, writing, organizing, leading, singing, etc. It was the first time I really accepted that it was okay to be who I am. I didn't care about being the best. I just wanted the best. I didn't have to be it.
I thought about all the things I did--from playing the guitar to writing to creating art to singing to doing martial arts to keeping fit. I never completely committed to any of them. They were all very important to me, but I didn't feel the need to constantly improve myself in them. They were like flings. They were like booty calls to me. I knew photography was the one; I knew it was the career I'll eventually find myself marrying. But what? I'm stuck with my booty calls 'til then. I am not a pro in any of these, not even close. Mediocre. That's right. I just want to do what I want to do, be able to do it properly with no pressure to be perfect at it. Unlike him.
Reality
I remember my best friend telling me a couple of months ago that she almost broke up with her boyfriend.
Guess why?
She decided on some things on her own. She made plans for her future without his consideration. Without consulting him. I thought it was the strangest thing to get mad about. Why would he get mad? They weren't married.
I didn't get it 'til it happened to me.
Tomorrow, when I get home, I'll get myself shitfaced.
Lilith
--
*Code name/s
Friday, February 28, 2014
ATYT: On being a working loser
Since I left my job, I've gone back to a routine that's all too familiar and rather unwelcome: staying up late, waking up before noon (I've actually become better with my sleeping habits compared to when I was... much younger), not taking breakfast seriously/taking "Rockstar Breakfasts"** and of course, struggling with the jobhunt. True, the recent, almost month-long illness I recently dealt with ruined my momentum, but I can't help but be frustrated at the demons and angels constantly debating in my head--do I regret leaving my first job? Yes. No. Why do I? Why don't I? It was for the best. No, it wasn't. Do I regret leaving my second job without a replacement job after I seriously learned my lesson the first time? No. In fact, I had everybody's blessings! Including the goddamn company itself, no matter how much I wish I didn't (yet)! Wait, maybe I do? Maybe I should have just allowed assholes to humiliate me everyd--wait, no. I can't. Where did I go wrong? Did I even make a mistake?
And then, I look back, and realize I did nothing wrong. I couldn't stay. But something went wrong somewhere. However, I can't turn back time. I made decisions I regretted, but when I try to imagine taking the other available options for those situations, I can't help but accept that I picked the better choice.
The things I should've done, that could've made my resume look better, were so far back in the past; there's no helping it. I'm finding it strange that I am pissed at myself for things I have no control over. I've actually been making good career decisions since I started my second job... I am just angry that the circumstances made everything wrong even when they weren't supposed to be.
Look at me now. I sometimes have chips or candy for breakfast, then fall back asleep. I have lunch at 3 p.m., 4, even. I feel proud of myself when I have lunch at 2 or 1, and want to throw a party if I have it at noon. I feel accomplished when I eat a proper breakfast. I feel hopeful when I go to an interview and ace the easiest interview to ace--the first one, or any with an HR person. I feel depressed and make up excuses to treat myself to an expensive beverage, meal, or something nice by convincing myself that I deserve or need it. I play with the dogs every ow and then, they are a source of entertainment. I fight with Miles* often, making me question not the relationship, but the mental state of the people in it--are we okay? Is he, am I right in the head? Are we bipolar? Do we have anger issues? Are we short and hot because we are part of the highly pressured generation?
Just a few hours ago, my parents were giving me a glimpse of how things were in the past--people who married at 20 at a certain time were young. But, the generation before that married at 18, and that was okay. BUT! A generation before that married at 16 and that was the norm! Not too long ago, getting married in your mid-20's was pretty ideal. But a few years ago, when one of my cousins married at 27 or 28, my mom said they were too young. What the actual fuck?
Please excuse me while I silently consider my goal to marry at 24 and have a child a little after that.
Well, decisions change, and now that I'm close to my once marrying age goal, I don't think I'm up for it yet 'til I'm sure everything's set. But now most people are considering marrying in their 30's. I wonder if, 25 years from now, people will start considering marrying at an even later age. Is that how things work? Can we remember that our bodies deteriorate in time and stop letting money and success take over our lives and happiness?
Look at me now: I'm best friends with my laptop, smartphone and the internet. I'm constantly on social media websites and dreaming online. Reading manga, discovering music, watching series, catching up on movies and books and rest. I barely move. I'm too skinny yet I don't eat well and somehow, I'm starting to get some fat in some areas (?!).
To be honest, I think I kinda suck. Almost a year after grad (it was my fault, I was too lax) before I got my first job. Left, took another 7 months before I landed myself a new one. Left immediately and God please help me get a good, new one ASAP because...
Why? Think about it. Why do you want to work? Do you even want to? I questioned myself and even when the inquiry came from me, I was afraid to answer, silently. I had to do it step by step:
Do you want to work, Lilith?
Yes.
Why?
Um... because (another answer keeps fighting its way into my head, but I kept pushing the thought away) I want to buy things, pay for stuff and have a career.
But if you had an unlimited source of income, would you still consider getting yourself a job; employed, like you want to be?
No.
Why?
Because the truth is, some people really don't want to work. Maybe it's because most people do things they don't exactly love. People want to play, even when they're at work. That's why it's important to love what you do. They say if you do, you wouldn't consider it 'work'.
So then why do you say you 'want to work'?
I think it's because of societal pressure. It's the kind of pressure people around my age from this generation get. We're expected to graduate from college, take a master's degree, work at this age, be able to accomplish this much at this age, be able to do this at this age... or if we can't afford college then we have to find success in other ways like a business, or something similar. Expectations. They fucking suck.
Truth be told? Even if we lived on a little money, as long as we're not hungry, have shelter and all the basic needs, we'll be fine. Truth be told, most things around us that we consider important are just luxuries we don't need. Societal pressure. We're obsessed with success in different forms, whether real or made up, tangible or intangible.
Look at me. I am lonely. I am detached from things considered at important in life at this time: I don't have ANY real friends at the moment, I barely go out, I haven't traveled and done anything fun for the longest time, I am in a LDR, I talk to my dogs. Same sitch whether or not I am employed. It sucks, and I am sometimes frustrated with this kind of life. But deep inside, despite the yearnings, I'm still kind of happy! Holy shit. I have time. I know I can make up for this shit some time.
I was almost more sad than pissed when one asshole told me to "get a life, you need to go out more" when I was happy about something work-related that turned out good. I knew the fucker had a point and I did need to do many things more, but I had a life. Whatever I have right now is one. It's my life. Fuck off.
Maybe for the first two decades of my life I am meant to be a hermit. Maybe the next two or three I'll be a fucking world crawler. And more exposed to basically every type of person, place, event, activity and natural or synthetic creation than you'll ever be.
Ladies and gentlemen, I hope my angels and demons entertained you tonight.
Lilith
--
*Code name/s
**having the worst food options for breakfast; i.e. candy, soda, chips, chocolate, cake
And then, I look back, and realize I did nothing wrong. I couldn't stay. But something went wrong somewhere. However, I can't turn back time. I made decisions I regretted, but when I try to imagine taking the other available options for those situations, I can't help but accept that I picked the better choice.
The things I should've done, that could've made my resume look better, were so far back in the past; there's no helping it. I'm finding it strange that I am pissed at myself for things I have no control over. I've actually been making good career decisions since I started my second job... I am just angry that the circumstances made everything wrong even when they weren't supposed to be.
Look at me now. I sometimes have chips or candy for breakfast, then fall back asleep. I have lunch at 3 p.m., 4, even. I feel proud of myself when I have lunch at 2 or 1, and want to throw a party if I have it at noon. I feel accomplished when I eat a proper breakfast. I feel hopeful when I go to an interview and ace the easiest interview to ace--the first one, or any with an HR person. I feel depressed and make up excuses to treat myself to an expensive beverage, meal, or something nice by convincing myself that I deserve or need it. I play with the dogs every ow and then, they are a source of entertainment. I fight with Miles* often, making me question not the relationship, but the mental state of the people in it--are we okay? Is he, am I right in the head? Are we bipolar? Do we have anger issues? Are we short and hot because we are part of the highly pressured generation?
Just a few hours ago, my parents were giving me a glimpse of how things were in the past--people who married at 20 at a certain time were young. But, the generation before that married at 18, and that was okay. BUT! A generation before that married at 16 and that was the norm! Not too long ago, getting married in your mid-20's was pretty ideal. But a few years ago, when one of my cousins married at 27 or 28, my mom said they were too young. What the actual fuck?
Please excuse me while I silently consider my goal to marry at 24 and have a child a little after that.
Well, decisions change, and now that I'm close to my once marrying age goal, I don't think I'm up for it yet 'til I'm sure everything's set. But now most people are considering marrying in their 30's. I wonder if, 25 years from now, people will start considering marrying at an even later age. Is that how things work? Can we remember that our bodies deteriorate in time and stop letting money and success take over our lives and happiness?
Look at me now: I'm best friends with my laptop, smartphone and the internet. I'm constantly on social media websites and dreaming online. Reading manga, discovering music, watching series, catching up on movies and books and rest. I barely move. I'm too skinny yet I don't eat well and somehow, I'm starting to get some fat in some areas (?!).
To be honest, I think I kinda suck. Almost a year after grad (it was my fault, I was too lax) before I got my first job. Left, took another 7 months before I landed myself a new one. Left immediately and God please help me get a good, new one ASAP because...
Why? Think about it. Why do you want to work? Do you even want to? I questioned myself and even when the inquiry came from me, I was afraid to answer, silently. I had to do it step by step:
Do you want to work, Lilith?
Yes.
Why?
Um... because (another answer keeps fighting its way into my head, but I kept pushing the thought away) I want to buy things, pay for stuff and have a career.
But if you had an unlimited source of income, would you still consider getting yourself a job; employed, like you want to be?
No.
Why?
Because the truth is, some people really don't want to work. Maybe it's because most people do things they don't exactly love. People want to play, even when they're at work. That's why it's important to love what you do. They say if you do, you wouldn't consider it 'work'.
So then why do you say you 'want to work'?
I think it's because of societal pressure. It's the kind of pressure people around my age from this generation get. We're expected to graduate from college, take a master's degree, work at this age, be able to accomplish this much at this age, be able to do this at this age... or if we can't afford college then we have to find success in other ways like a business, or something similar. Expectations. They fucking suck.
Truth be told? Even if we lived on a little money, as long as we're not hungry, have shelter and all the basic needs, we'll be fine. Truth be told, most things around us that we consider important are just luxuries we don't need. Societal pressure. We're obsessed with success in different forms, whether real or made up, tangible or intangible.
Look at me. I am lonely. I am detached from things considered at important in life at this time: I don't have ANY real friends at the moment, I barely go out, I haven't traveled and done anything fun for the longest time, I am in a LDR, I talk to my dogs. Same sitch whether or not I am employed. It sucks, and I am sometimes frustrated with this kind of life. But deep inside, despite the yearnings, I'm still kind of happy! Holy shit. I have time. I know I can make up for this shit some time.
I was almost more sad than pissed when one asshole told me to "get a life, you need to go out more" when I was happy about something work-related that turned out good. I knew the fucker had a point and I did need to do many things more, but I had a life. Whatever I have right now is one. It's my life. Fuck off.
Maybe for the first two decades of my life I am meant to be a hermit. Maybe the next two or three I'll be a fucking world crawler. And more exposed to basically every type of person, place, event, activity and natural or synthetic creation than you'll ever be.
Ladies and gentlemen, I hope my angels and demons entertained you tonight.
Lilith
--
*Code name/s
**having the worst food options for breakfast; i.e. candy, soda, chips, chocolate, cake
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Lilith: Lost and Found
I. Lost
I left my job last month. After being bulled by someone from the management, I decided it would be wrong if I stayed a minute longer.
I think I mentioned in a previous post that a certain UM person was the root of most resignations where I worked. It was really just bad management, in general, and I could understand why people from different departments decide to look for other companies that deserved them. At first, I thought, the longer I stayed, the tougher I'd get. The better I'd be. I thought that by staying, I was proving a point... I was succeeding... winning.
Then, this happened:
One day, after accomplishing a few tasks at the office, I packed my bags and was about to leave for one of the outlets I handled--my boss told me I could. On my way out, UM told me not to leave because he needed to speak with me. I already knew then I was in for some huge bullshit. Prior to that, he sent an e-mail to the "marketing team", using the BCC option to "make sure we're not embarrassed", and as usual, insulted us without really insulting us. He's taking something out on us because we were not able to do something he apparently wants us to do.
I was led into a room with UMP and someone with a high HR position. My boss didn't know this (I was later informed by my mother that my boss should be informed of everything that involved me, work-wise). I was interrogated, questioned for my skills and abilities, because what I've been accomplishing for the past few months was apparently not enough. It was the usual: what have you been doing, what have you accomplished, what are you doing now, what can you do, and what can you accomplish questions.
I was inwardly panicking at the time because I was caught off-guard. I tried to be more vocal, and I answered every question. I was mocked and insulted every time; I did not get to finish some of my statements, and each clear explanation I gave was ignored, because my input was not valued. They clearly did not understand some of my explanations and insisted I was wrong, and they are right, therefore I had to be demoted.
All that, only because I have not acquired a sponsorship for an ongoing project that he has. First off, he never informed me that he needed a hand... from me. Second, my boss never told me I needed to do so. Third, I've been launching new brands ever since I started, which is top priority--so side projects like that will be accomplished alongside my main priorities UPON THE INSTRUCTION of a superior.
I knew all that.
However, at the time, I missed the fact that sponsorships were a a very minor deliverable in my contract. It was a by-the-way. It was a just-in-case. It was a could, not a should.
He told me I was not good, that I was not bringing anything to the table, that I have to contribute something to the company... which I was. I later on reviewed my job description and I was able to perform everything that was expected of me. And I performed very well! Even my boss approved of me.
I knew a few weeks before that that the company was cutting down on employees. They can easily let people go or stop hiring. They did not need to harass people and constantly insult them to force them to resign. I knew this was his purpose--besides being a bored lunatic who wants to stir things up all the time. He's the demon king who rules over the unwilling planet earth, who tortures and kills humans for a living... for the hell of it.
What happened was a lot worse than what I'm describing here. The closed door meeting lasted for about an hour, with me trying to calmly and politely explain and defend myself and him pursing his lips in anger exactly because I was. What he wants me to be is scared, quiet, shaking and stuttering. The HR person did NOT help me. Nobody from HR EVER really helped those who needed them. The good people. They were pro-management. In fact, the HR person helped UM insult me and put me down.
He put me under another department that reported directly to him, without informing my boss. Again. He had done this about 10 times since I started. My boss was furious but could not do anything about it.
I had a family emergency the next day and had to take the day off. I informed UM too but he did not believe me. He said I should show proof that I was not procrastinating. I was livid--my emergency involved my NUCLEAR RELATIVES and he didn't give a shit; he just did not believe it. I was going to put up with the crap he did the previous day--insulting me, badgering me, changing my position and my boss and pretty much everything else. But after that... I knew I had enough. The next day was a weekend, so I fixed all my turnover files, wrote letters of resignation and printed out every proof that I was pushed to leave for a good reason. I made sure I covered my ass. I handed in my resignation letter the very next week. It wasn't accepted at first, but I left them no choice. I gave them the reason and there was nothing else for them to do except take it.
I feel so bad for leaving because I was learning relevant IMC skills. My boss was seasoned, and the brands I handled had great potential. I was only starting out. Now I'm looking for a new job again, but I'm not so sure how to explain myself to potential employers. I find it so hard to. Friends keep insisting I just tell them I freelanced... I can't. My experience was relevant. I still want to have the same job... just somewhere else. Just with other people... younger people, preferably.
II. Found
If you know me well, you know that I'm not just good at looking people up online--you know I find it thrilling. I am obsessed with it, if I really wanted to know more about the person. A few pieces of information can yield a thousand if they're in the right hands (mine!). Sometimes, I just can't stop until I get enough information--the search can go for as long as days... or years.
Yesterday, I gave myself a congratulatory pat on the shoulder for another job well done in this endeavor. After almost a decade of trying to find new, relevant information about *Bruce. Up until a year ago, everything I found about him was passe. They were the same things I found years ago, after we lost contact. Anything else was useless; dead ends.
I didn't stop. What seemed like a dead end a year ago had a secret passageway--there was a door I didn't see. One discovery led to another and... I found him.
I found out he didn't give me his full name--just the first two. Using those, I found at least five or six of his accounts. I can easily contact him now, but I am hesitant.
Why?
He was my first boyfriend. I'm not sure, but I think I was his first girlfriend as well. We were good friends before we took things to the next level. However, because of his immaturity and egocentrism and self-absorption, I left him. I wish I didn't have to, but even at age 15 I knew I couldn't put up with it. I sent him a note then disappeared.
I remember looking him up shortly after that. He never showed himself again. I saw a couple of his blogs and he never wrote about having any relationship. The slightest hint of that went along the lines of "I'm happy my friend won the girl over, as for me, I never really cared about love, nor do I care about it right now. We'll see if that changes at all."
I want closure. That's why I tried reaching out to two other guys I've had a thing with in the past, and lost touch with. I was mighty scared at first, because the reason those guys and I stopped talking was because things didn't work out. Either I hurt them, or they hurt me. I expected to be attacked once I introduced myself, but so far, so good, even with the nastiest parting I've ever had. To be honest, I am still searching for one last person, but things didn't end bad with that one, so I don't care as much. But Bruce? We definitely need closure.
Whether that girl he's with in that one picture is his girlfriend or not.
Whether Miles* and I are working out or not.
Honestly, I don't know why I'm so concerned about Bruce, when I am currently in need of a new job.
-Sighs.-
Dear Hotaru,
Nagisa finally found you. Nagisa will always find you. She's back to say she's sorry.
And "Let's continue our journey."
Lilith
--
*Code name/s
I left my job last month. After being bulled by someone from the management, I decided it would be wrong if I stayed a minute longer.
I think I mentioned in a previous post that a certain UM person was the root of most resignations where I worked. It was really just bad management, in general, and I could understand why people from different departments decide to look for other companies that deserved them. At first, I thought, the longer I stayed, the tougher I'd get. The better I'd be. I thought that by staying, I was proving a point... I was succeeding... winning.
Then, this happened:
One day, after accomplishing a few tasks at the office, I packed my bags and was about to leave for one of the outlets I handled--my boss told me I could. On my way out, UM told me not to leave because he needed to speak with me. I already knew then I was in for some huge bullshit. Prior to that, he sent an e-mail to the "marketing team", using the BCC option to "make sure we're not embarrassed", and as usual, insulted us without really insulting us. He's taking something out on us because we were not able to do something he apparently wants us to do.
I was led into a room with UMP and someone with a high HR position. My boss didn't know this (I was later informed by my mother that my boss should be informed of everything that involved me, work-wise). I was interrogated, questioned for my skills and abilities, because what I've been accomplishing for the past few months was apparently not enough. It was the usual: what have you been doing, what have you accomplished, what are you doing now, what can you do, and what can you accomplish questions.
I was inwardly panicking at the time because I was caught off-guard. I tried to be more vocal, and I answered every question. I was mocked and insulted every time; I did not get to finish some of my statements, and each clear explanation I gave was ignored, because my input was not valued. They clearly did not understand some of my explanations and insisted I was wrong, and they are right, therefore I had to be demoted.
All that, only because I have not acquired a sponsorship for an ongoing project that he has. First off, he never informed me that he needed a hand... from me. Second, my boss never told me I needed to do so. Third, I've been launching new brands ever since I started, which is top priority--so side projects like that will be accomplished alongside my main priorities UPON THE INSTRUCTION of a superior.
I knew all that.
However, at the time, I missed the fact that sponsorships were a a very minor deliverable in my contract. It was a by-the-way. It was a just-in-case. It was a could, not a should.
He told me I was not good, that I was not bringing anything to the table, that I have to contribute something to the company... which I was. I later on reviewed my job description and I was able to perform everything that was expected of me. And I performed very well! Even my boss approved of me.
I knew a few weeks before that that the company was cutting down on employees. They can easily let people go or stop hiring. They did not need to harass people and constantly insult them to force them to resign. I knew this was his purpose--besides being a bored lunatic who wants to stir things up all the time. He's the demon king who rules over the unwilling planet earth, who tortures and kills humans for a living... for the hell of it.
What happened was a lot worse than what I'm describing here. The closed door meeting lasted for about an hour, with me trying to calmly and politely explain and defend myself and him pursing his lips in anger exactly because I was. What he wants me to be is scared, quiet, shaking and stuttering. The HR person did NOT help me. Nobody from HR EVER really helped those who needed them. The good people. They were pro-management. In fact, the HR person helped UM insult me and put me down.
He put me under another department that reported directly to him, without informing my boss. Again. He had done this about 10 times since I started. My boss was furious but could not do anything about it.
I had a family emergency the next day and had to take the day off. I informed UM too but he did not believe me. He said I should show proof that I was not procrastinating. I was livid--my emergency involved my NUCLEAR RELATIVES and he didn't give a shit; he just did not believe it. I was going to put up with the crap he did the previous day--insulting me, badgering me, changing my position and my boss and pretty much everything else. But after that... I knew I had enough. The next day was a weekend, so I fixed all my turnover files, wrote letters of resignation and printed out every proof that I was pushed to leave for a good reason. I made sure I covered my ass. I handed in my resignation letter the very next week. It wasn't accepted at first, but I left them no choice. I gave them the reason and there was nothing else for them to do except take it.
I feel so bad for leaving because I was learning relevant IMC skills. My boss was seasoned, and the brands I handled had great potential. I was only starting out. Now I'm looking for a new job again, but I'm not so sure how to explain myself to potential employers. I find it so hard to. Friends keep insisting I just tell them I freelanced... I can't. My experience was relevant. I still want to have the same job... just somewhere else. Just with other people... younger people, preferably.
II. Found
If you know me well, you know that I'm not just good at looking people up online--you know I find it thrilling. I am obsessed with it, if I really wanted to know more about the person. A few pieces of information can yield a thousand if they're in the right hands (mine!). Sometimes, I just can't stop until I get enough information--the search can go for as long as days... or years.
Yesterday, I gave myself a congratulatory pat on the shoulder for another job well done in this endeavor. After almost a decade of trying to find new, relevant information about *Bruce. Up until a year ago, everything I found about him was passe. They were the same things I found years ago, after we lost contact. Anything else was useless; dead ends.
I didn't stop. What seemed like a dead end a year ago had a secret passageway--there was a door I didn't see. One discovery led to another and... I found him.
I found out he didn't give me his full name--just the first two. Using those, I found at least five or six of his accounts. I can easily contact him now, but I am hesitant.
Why?
He was my first boyfriend. I'm not sure, but I think I was his first girlfriend as well. We were good friends before we took things to the next level. However, because of his immaturity and egocentrism and self-absorption, I left him. I wish I didn't have to, but even at age 15 I knew I couldn't put up with it. I sent him a note then disappeared.
I remember looking him up shortly after that. He never showed himself again. I saw a couple of his blogs and he never wrote about having any relationship. The slightest hint of that went along the lines of "I'm happy my friend won the girl over, as for me, I never really cared about love, nor do I care about it right now. We'll see if that changes at all."
I want closure. That's why I tried reaching out to two other guys I've had a thing with in the past, and lost touch with. I was mighty scared at first, because the reason those guys and I stopped talking was because things didn't work out. Either I hurt them, or they hurt me. I expected to be attacked once I introduced myself, but so far, so good, even with the nastiest parting I've ever had. To be honest, I am still searching for one last person, but things didn't end bad with that one, so I don't care as much. But Bruce? We definitely need closure.
Whether that girl he's with in that one picture is his girlfriend or not.
Whether Miles* and I are working out or not.
Honestly, I don't know why I'm so concerned about Bruce, when I am currently in need of a new job.
-Sighs.-
Dear Hotaru,
Nagisa finally found you. Nagisa will always find you. She's back to say she's sorry.
And "Let's continue our journey."
Lilith
--
*Code name/s
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
ATYT: Conflicted about having kids
I've recently been having a dilemma about kids. It seems the older I get, the less attractive the idea of having them is. It's strange--before college, I could never imagine myself having kids. In fact, I always shelved the idea when it crossed my mind. All I knew back then was I only wanted one child in the future, but that's it.
I started getting broody in college. I would have dreams about my future daughter, and once, my future son, and got depressed in the morning because in the dreams my 'baby' always ends up being taken away from me somehow. In one dream, my beautiful daughter was kidnapped. In another, my newborn son died. Nonetheless, I really wanted to have a child for some reason. Not a baby... like, a toddler. I wanted to take care of something. I was being a woman, and I guess my nurturing instincts were at its peak at that time because it was probably the best time for me to have children. I believe your body dictates your would-be lifestyle--tailored-fit to your unique self, of course. However, the Real World Lilith wasn't ready. She was in college, had so much ahead of her that should not yet involve children.
I've always been awkward with kids. I'd always be too polite with the majority of them, whether they're blood-related to me or not. I've only been comfortable with one or two children in my life--and they weren't even relatives. They were also far from shy, and very intelligent. Yep, you guessed it--I'm not the type to baby-talk kids and give them funny nicknames. I do that with pets. But humans are humans and I talk to kids the way I talk to regular people--more patient, more caring, kinder, of course, but I don't lengthen words and use a weird voice with them. I understand some kids may prefer this, because if they see that an adult could switch to I-speak-kid mode, they could easily relate to them.
I'm not sure if my uncertainty stems from that fact... let's ask psych majors. All I know is, right now, my life is a mess and so many things are holding me back from doing the things I need to do and want to do... and I feel like the time I originally hoped to have kids would have to be pushed further into the future.
There's also the nasty reality of having to go through so much stress and pain, for at least 21 years--from the time Lilith Junior is a fetus up 'til when she's in college. If she's a little more like me then she'll continue to be under my care (ish) 'til infinity.
It's like... I don't know. You carry them in your belly for nine months where your activities are somewhat limited: no meds, you can't do certain physical activities, you can't dye your hair, you have all these... preggo symptoms you have to deal with... you go through labor and it hurts like fuck, you have to feed your child and they pull too hard and it hurts like fuck, you stay up all night trying to figure out why they're crying, and then they get old enough to get themselves in enough trouble to give you heart attacks, then they get even older and start rejecting your attempts to correct, guide or even connect with them because they're at a very awkward stage where they are confused with so many things in life that they just want you to stay away, then they get into loads of trouble again that, despite how tolerant you believed you were, you just couldn't stand seeing your own flesh and blood fucking up like that and you get massive headaches at the shit they pull, then they start sleeping around and having relationships and they just won't open up to you sometimes and it drives you crazy but you can't do anything about it... et cetera... the list goes on.
This is the ugly truth.
The moment you decide to (whether it was accidental at first or not) have a child, thousands of other possibilities end for you. True, you open a whole different chapter in your life when you enter parenthood, but I cringe at the echoing voices of a thousand people I've heard all throughout my life who reiterate: 'parenthood is beautiful' and 'mothers are heroes' and 'children bring you joy, they are gifts' and 'having children is the most wonderful thing in the world'. These are all truths, and I clearly remember agreeing... however, right now, I can only shake my head at the thought.
Just like there are no perfect parents, there are no perfect children. There will be shittons of disappointment and I'm sure it'll hurt; I can just imagine how horrible my parents feel knowing I am the way I am. Of course they accept me, as every parent should, but I know that deep inside, parents will always want to change something about their children. It doesn't matter how trivial it is... we're all human, and we all strive to be the best we can be and we want the 'best' for people we love. Then again, same concept--we're human, so we have different interpretations of what's 'best' for us and for others.
I guess now I realize that parenthood isn't about just raising children well. Of course it is... but... there's a bigger complication that comes with it, and that is the burden of acceptance. Now I understand that I am not ready. Ready to nurture a baby, yes. Ready to raise one... not so much.
I hope I'd still be young enough by the time I decide to give it a go. Haha. And I hope by that time I'd accomplished as much as I should to deserve a reward, a Little Lilith.
Lilith
I started getting broody in college. I would have dreams about my future daughter, and once, my future son, and got depressed in the morning because in the dreams my 'baby' always ends up being taken away from me somehow. In one dream, my beautiful daughter was kidnapped. In another, my newborn son died. Nonetheless, I really wanted to have a child for some reason. Not a baby... like, a toddler. I wanted to take care of something. I was being a woman, and I guess my nurturing instincts were at its peak at that time because it was probably the best time for me to have children. I believe your body dictates your would-be lifestyle--tailored-fit to your unique self, of course. However, the Real World Lilith wasn't ready. She was in college, had so much ahead of her that should not yet involve children.
I've always been awkward with kids. I'd always be too polite with the majority of them, whether they're blood-related to me or not. I've only been comfortable with one or two children in my life--and they weren't even relatives. They were also far from shy, and very intelligent. Yep, you guessed it--I'm not the type to baby-talk kids and give them funny nicknames. I do that with pets. But humans are humans and I talk to kids the way I talk to regular people--more patient, more caring, kinder, of course, but I don't lengthen words and use a weird voice with them. I understand some kids may prefer this, because if they see that an adult could switch to I-speak-kid mode, they could easily relate to them.
I'm not sure if my uncertainty stems from that fact... let's ask psych majors. All I know is, right now, my life is a mess and so many things are holding me back from doing the things I need to do and want to do... and I feel like the time I originally hoped to have kids would have to be pushed further into the future.
There's also the nasty reality of having to go through so much stress and pain, for at least 21 years--from the time Lilith Junior is a fetus up 'til when she's in college. If she's a little more like me then she'll continue to be under my care (ish) 'til infinity.
It's like... I don't know. You carry them in your belly for nine months where your activities are somewhat limited: no meds, you can't do certain physical activities, you can't dye your hair, you have all these... preggo symptoms you have to deal with... you go through labor and it hurts like fuck, you have to feed your child and they pull too hard and it hurts like fuck, you stay up all night trying to figure out why they're crying, and then they get old enough to get themselves in enough trouble to give you heart attacks, then they get even older and start rejecting your attempts to correct, guide or even connect with them because they're at a very awkward stage where they are confused with so many things in life that they just want you to stay away, then they get into loads of trouble again that, despite how tolerant you believed you were, you just couldn't stand seeing your own flesh and blood fucking up like that and you get massive headaches at the shit they pull, then they start sleeping around and having relationships and they just won't open up to you sometimes and it drives you crazy but you can't do anything about it... et cetera... the list goes on.
This is the ugly truth.
The moment you decide to (whether it was accidental at first or not) have a child, thousands of other possibilities end for you. True, you open a whole different chapter in your life when you enter parenthood, but I cringe at the echoing voices of a thousand people I've heard all throughout my life who reiterate: 'parenthood is beautiful' and 'mothers are heroes' and 'children bring you joy, they are gifts' and 'having children is the most wonderful thing in the world'. These are all truths, and I clearly remember agreeing... however, right now, I can only shake my head at the thought.
Just like there are no perfect parents, there are no perfect children. There will be shittons of disappointment and I'm sure it'll hurt; I can just imagine how horrible my parents feel knowing I am the way I am. Of course they accept me, as every parent should, but I know that deep inside, parents will always want to change something about their children. It doesn't matter how trivial it is... we're all human, and we all strive to be the best we can be and we want the 'best' for people we love. Then again, same concept--we're human, so we have different interpretations of what's 'best' for us and for others.
I guess now I realize that parenthood isn't about just raising children well. Of course it is... but... there's a bigger complication that comes with it, and that is the burden of acceptance. Now I understand that I am not ready. Ready to nurture a baby, yes. Ready to raise one... not so much.
I hope I'd still be young enough by the time I decide to give it a go. Haha. And I hope by that time I'd accomplished as much as I should to deserve a reward, a Little Lilith.
Lilith
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Lilith: Miles of octaves (my man's different speaking voice pitches)
This is a creepy yet empirical analysis of my beau's varying vocal registers. Read at your own risk.
I always kind of knew, but Miles*, like each one of us, adjusts the tone of his voice and manner of speaking depending on who he's addressing.
Its significance to me is overwhelming. In a matter of five minutes, I understood the importance of the people in his life and how he talked with them. I understood that it is one giveaway--one way for me to understand where a person stands in his life. I know him enough to be able to piece things together. I'm not even sure if he's actually easy to read, or if I probably have just known him for a long time, or if the theory that I'm actually pretty fucking discerning can be verified.
Hm. It could be all three.
No matter. I think I'm going to come up with a list first, then explain later. I'm not entirely sure if my educated guesses are accurate, but they all have a basis. Now, without further ado:
1. Me
2. My friends
3. His parents
4. His childhood friend and best friend, Christian*
5. His brother
6. Close friends
7. Friends, my parents
8. Acquaintances, strangers, supervisors, co-workers
I have yet to really get into how he speaks to different people around him. What I'm a bit certain of right now is his voice pitch. I guess this is obvious, but I've observed, and I'm pretty fucking sure, that his voice is in his highest octave when he's talking to me. I can't think of anybody else he's used this particular voice pitch on. The closest would be animals--you know, pets. Pet dogs. Actually, his voice goes a even a bit higher when he's addressing dogs. But don't we all talk funny towards animals?
Er, I don't, that's for sure. Hahaha. I talk to animals the way I talk with people. Boring.
I've observed that his voice goes a little deeper when he's talking to his parents. But I can also tell he's just as relaxed as when he's talking to me. I guess he's just a little more casual with parents, so he's being his usual self--the son. I don't want to say he's equally comfortable with me as he is with parents, because his parents and I offer distinct types of comfort. I only have theories right now as to why his vocal register is slightly different with his parents (compared to me).
I wanted to write about this after I've gone through the list, but it'll make more sense if I mention it now. I think that the voice you use to talk with people may/can/partially depend on how comfortable you are with them. With Miles, I guess the more comfortable he is, the higher his voice goes. I'm not sure yet. I think that it takes more effort to lower your voice than to raise it, so I assume that if you're very comfortable (and, well, pleased) with the person you're talking to, you unconsciously raise your voice pitch a bit.
Moving on... I've heard him talking with his best friend. His voice drops even lower, but his manner is still relaxed and friendly. Happy, even. He sounds more open, and now that I think about it, I think Christian, his parents and I belong to one group altogether. He's comfortable with all of us--and the difference in voice pitch that he uses on us is more natural than intentional. He's being himself, being Christian's Miles, my Miles, his parents' Miles. But he's still Miles.
I think that he plays the natural role of the boyish best friend; the obedient, respectful and responsible son; and, er, the boyfriend, which are reflected in the tone of his voice when he addresses Chris, his parents, or me, respectively. Again, there is barely any effort; probably even none, when the tone changes.
I'd like to point out a sub-theory: the voice register he uses on his parents can never be duplicated. They're his only parents, I think he will always speak to them in a distinctive voice, in a distinctive manner. I haven't actually observed that yet, so I don't know much, but I have a feeling I'm pretty spot-on on this one. When I hear him talking to his dad or mom, he sounds casual, his voice drops (lower than when he talks to me), he's polite yet at times he sounds bored. He's very controlled. You can never tell if he's being annoyed, happy, sad, or what. I guess that says something about how he wants to be perceived by his parents. Then again, I'm just assuming. It's interesting, though.
This one's interesting. His brother. I think the voice he uses on his brother borders on the one he uses with his close friends, casual friends, or even the people he works with. His voice would definitely be much lower on his younger brother. This time, however, it'll be slightly intentional. He would unconsciously make an effort to keep his voice lower. He's the older brother, he and little bro disagree more often than not. He's superior. He believes he is the better brother, the survivor, the winner, the one who will never get lost. He wants to show his authority, wants to influence the younger one, because li'l bro gets lost very often. Deep inside, he cares a lot about his brother, so he can be imposing, even just through the slightest of manners; and if his lost brother starts getting a direction in life, he wants to be responsible in making that happen.
I'd like to think his voice goes even lower with close friends. They weren't family, so of course there are some parts of him he'd like to mask. If a deeper voice helps, he'll do it. This is all unconscious, by the way; the effort is almost not felt, but it is there. Friends? Deeper. Acquaintances? Even deeper. The people he works with? He's at his lowest damn Do. And I get it. The more he has to keep about himself, or the more he has to impress them, or maintain a certain impression, the lower his voice goes. I think it reassures him. They become part of his walls. Somehow, I wonder if we are all like this.
The voice he uses with my parents is entirely different, to be honest. It is deep, because he put some walls up, but there's also a certain nervousness about them. It's another distinct voice. It has some elements from the one he uses when talking to his own parents, and some parts from when he addresses my friends. I'll get to that one in a bit. It's a little tense, but polite, but self-conscious; careful. He's trying to be precise, and he's still testing waters. It'll change someday, so I'm not worried. Somehow I wish his voice would go up a little when my parents converse with him.
I think it's pure discomfort with my friends. In a way, he tries to sound like he's talking to me when he's talking to my friends. He's part nervous, part self-conscious. A hundred percent polite and borderline awkward. It may be the fact that there probably isn't anything common between my friends and him; or that he probably won't encounter the same group of friends again in the future that he doesn't seem to be making an effort to put himself out there too much (control his voice somehow). My friends are his acquaintances, but his voice retains the same quality as it does when we talk. In other words, he's actually only reserving that voice for me if I ever engage him into a conversation while my friends are around (which I do), plus, plus (he wants to appear friendly, boyfriend-like, gentle, and polite).
Unpleasant thoughts plagued my mind as I wondered what he would sound like if he had to talk with other women (not just ones from work, but strangers, or friends of friends, relatives of friends, friends of relatives); particularly attractive ones. I also wondered how he's talk to his exes. I witnessed a conversation between him and his ex before, and damn, was he talking to a puppy? Besides being a teenager, was there any other reason his voice was borderline soprano? Was he trying to meet the shrill vocal quality of his freaking ex? I wonder.
--
It's funny that I think about these things--even funnier that I write about it in a research paper-inspired manner. I feel kind of sick knowing I'll probably never have anybody thinking too hard about me like this, trying to figure me out as if I'm a problem to be solved. I yearn for that for some reason, but I only want that from one person, nobody else. That's not too much to ask, is it? I don't need that kind of attention from anybody else but a significant other.
There are times I wish I was male so I could please some hopeless woman out there who believed no man would ever cry when they first see her in her wedding dress, or notice that they're wearing a new pair of earrings or cut their hair a fourth of an inch shorter, or that they have different types of laughs, or varying voice registers.
Hm... but this is life, meaning it's real. Meaning, this is not a film, or a book... not a work of fiction. Things hurt and you feel them. You can't re-read something you missed, or skip pages to get to the end. You can't re-write it and you can never expect anything. The characters are more real, more fucked up, more unbelievably unpredictable.
Call of duty! The kitchen beckons me. My stomach protesting is saving me from getting upset. Therefore, I must retire, and hopefully I don't creep out too many people with this revealing post. Oh, well, I warned you anyway.
Lilith
--
*Code name/s
I always kind of knew, but Miles*, like each one of us, adjusts the tone of his voice and manner of speaking depending on who he's addressing.
Its significance to me is overwhelming. In a matter of five minutes, I understood the importance of the people in his life and how he talked with them. I understood that it is one giveaway--one way for me to understand where a person stands in his life. I know him enough to be able to piece things together. I'm not even sure if he's actually easy to read, or if I probably have just known him for a long time, or if the theory that I'm actually pretty fucking discerning can be verified.
Hm. It could be all three.
No matter. I think I'm going to come up with a list first, then explain later. I'm not entirely sure if my educated guesses are accurate, but they all have a basis. Now, without further ado:
1. Me
2. My friends
3. His parents
4. His childhood friend and best friend, Christian*
5. His brother
6. Close friends
7. Friends, my parents
8. Acquaintances, strangers, supervisors, co-workers
I have yet to really get into how he speaks to different people around him. What I'm a bit certain of right now is his voice pitch. I guess this is obvious, but I've observed, and I'm pretty fucking sure, that his voice is in his highest octave when he's talking to me. I can't think of anybody else he's used this particular voice pitch on. The closest would be animals--you know, pets. Pet dogs. Actually, his voice goes a even a bit higher when he's addressing dogs. But don't we all talk funny towards animals?
Er, I don't, that's for sure. Hahaha. I talk to animals the way I talk with people. Boring.
I've observed that his voice goes a little deeper when he's talking to his parents. But I can also tell he's just as relaxed as when he's talking to me. I guess he's just a little more casual with parents, so he's being his usual self--the son. I don't want to say he's equally comfortable with me as he is with parents, because his parents and I offer distinct types of comfort. I only have theories right now as to why his vocal register is slightly different with his parents (compared to me).
I wanted to write about this after I've gone through the list, but it'll make more sense if I mention it now. I think that the voice you use to talk with people may/can/partially depend on how comfortable you are with them. With Miles, I guess the more comfortable he is, the higher his voice goes. I'm not sure yet. I think that it takes more effort to lower your voice than to raise it, so I assume that if you're very comfortable (and, well, pleased) with the person you're talking to, you unconsciously raise your voice pitch a bit.
Moving on... I've heard him talking with his best friend. His voice drops even lower, but his manner is still relaxed and friendly. Happy, even. He sounds more open, and now that I think about it, I think Christian, his parents and I belong to one group altogether. He's comfortable with all of us--and the difference in voice pitch that he uses on us is more natural than intentional. He's being himself, being Christian's Miles, my Miles, his parents' Miles. But he's still Miles.
I think that he plays the natural role of the boyish best friend; the obedient, respectful and responsible son; and, er, the boyfriend, which are reflected in the tone of his voice when he addresses Chris, his parents, or me, respectively. Again, there is barely any effort; probably even none, when the tone changes.
I'd like to point out a sub-theory: the voice register he uses on his parents can never be duplicated. They're his only parents, I think he will always speak to them in a distinctive voice, in a distinctive manner. I haven't actually observed that yet, so I don't know much, but I have a feeling I'm pretty spot-on on this one. When I hear him talking to his dad or mom, he sounds casual, his voice drops (lower than when he talks to me), he's polite yet at times he sounds bored. He's very controlled. You can never tell if he's being annoyed, happy, sad, or what. I guess that says something about how he wants to be perceived by his parents. Then again, I'm just assuming. It's interesting, though.
This one's interesting. His brother. I think the voice he uses on his brother borders on the one he uses with his close friends, casual friends, or even the people he works with. His voice would definitely be much lower on his younger brother. This time, however, it'll be slightly intentional. He would unconsciously make an effort to keep his voice lower. He's the older brother, he and little bro disagree more often than not. He's superior. He believes he is the better brother, the survivor, the winner, the one who will never get lost. He wants to show his authority, wants to influence the younger one, because li'l bro gets lost very often. Deep inside, he cares a lot about his brother, so he can be imposing, even just through the slightest of manners; and if his lost brother starts getting a direction in life, he wants to be responsible in making that happen.
I'd like to think his voice goes even lower with close friends. They weren't family, so of course there are some parts of him he'd like to mask. If a deeper voice helps, he'll do it. This is all unconscious, by the way; the effort is almost not felt, but it is there. Friends? Deeper. Acquaintances? Even deeper. The people he works with? He's at his lowest damn Do. And I get it. The more he has to keep about himself, or the more he has to impress them, or maintain a certain impression, the lower his voice goes. I think it reassures him. They become part of his walls. Somehow, I wonder if we are all like this.
The voice he uses with my parents is entirely different, to be honest. It is deep, because he put some walls up, but there's also a certain nervousness about them. It's another distinct voice. It has some elements from the one he uses when talking to his own parents, and some parts from when he addresses my friends. I'll get to that one in a bit. It's a little tense, but polite, but self-conscious; careful. He's trying to be precise, and he's still testing waters. It'll change someday, so I'm not worried. Somehow I wish his voice would go up a little when my parents converse with him.
I think it's pure discomfort with my friends. In a way, he tries to sound like he's talking to me when he's talking to my friends. He's part nervous, part self-conscious. A hundred percent polite and borderline awkward. It may be the fact that there probably isn't anything common between my friends and him; or that he probably won't encounter the same group of friends again in the future that he doesn't seem to be making an effort to put himself out there too much (control his voice somehow). My friends are his acquaintances, but his voice retains the same quality as it does when we talk. In other words, he's actually only reserving that voice for me if I ever engage him into a conversation while my friends are around (which I do), plus, plus (he wants to appear friendly, boyfriend-like, gentle, and polite).
Unpleasant thoughts plagued my mind as I wondered what he would sound like if he had to talk with other women (not just ones from work, but strangers, or friends of friends, relatives of friends, friends of relatives); particularly attractive ones. I also wondered how he's talk to his exes. I witnessed a conversation between him and his ex before, and damn, was he talking to a puppy? Besides being a teenager, was there any other reason his voice was borderline soprano? Was he trying to meet the shrill vocal quality of his freaking ex? I wonder.
--
It's funny that I think about these things--even funnier that I write about it in a research paper-inspired manner. I feel kind of sick knowing I'll probably never have anybody thinking too hard about me like this, trying to figure me out as if I'm a problem to be solved. I yearn for that for some reason, but I only want that from one person, nobody else. That's not too much to ask, is it? I don't need that kind of attention from anybody else but a significant other.
There are times I wish I was male so I could please some hopeless woman out there who believed no man would ever cry when they first see her in her wedding dress, or notice that they're wearing a new pair of earrings or cut their hair a fourth of an inch shorter, or that they have different types of laughs, or varying voice registers.
Hm... but this is life, meaning it's real. Meaning, this is not a film, or a book... not a work of fiction. Things hurt and you feel them. You can't re-read something you missed, or skip pages to get to the end. You can't re-write it and you can never expect anything. The characters are more real, more fucked up, more unbelievably unpredictable.
Call of duty! The kitchen beckons me. My stomach protesting is saving me from getting upset. Therefore, I must retire, and hopefully I don't creep out too many people with this revealing post. Oh, well, I warned you anyway.
Lilith
--
*Code name/s
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
ATYT: How I decide that it's the right job for me
I have a problem--and that is, up until today, my career life has remained stagnant.
I know I'm only supposed to choose wisely, but not be picky. However, there are some things that indicate that the job I'm applying for isn't the right one for me:
1. The job's nature. If it's a sales job, or something that requires A LOT of exposure to different people on a daily basis, it isn't for me. Those types of jobs take so much energy for me, and, coming from experience, makes me want to lock myself up in my room all throughout the weekend because I know it's the only place where I can get my alone time.
2. The company's reputation. If the employer is from the industry I majored in, good. If it's slightly off (pharmaceutical distributors, FMCG, etc.), it has to be a big, or well-known firm. I would trust that I'd be in good hands because these organizations, I'm sure, have a good track record in terms of taking care of their employees.
3. The culture I've observed during the interview. There can be misconceptions regarding a workplace's culture. I was actually pretty nervous when I first had my job, because I had only met the people who interviewed me at the time, and they were the only ones I was sure were nice. I remember overhearing other employees in the background and feeling intimidated because I was so sure I haven't encountered people like them before. I was wrong, though--my co-workers were awesome.
I still observe, though, every time I am interviewed, the atmosphere of the workplace. I was crushed twice because I liked two of them so much but I had to decline the first one's offer, and the second one seemed to have hired somebody else. What I liked was the aura the people gave off in those offices--they were positive. I could feel not just the hard work, but the drive, the optimism, the support and openness of these people. They hired the right people, I could tell--because they were operating under the guidance of their company's values.
I've recently encountered an office with bad vibes in them. The employees were a little rude, unfriendly, stuck in their own little worlds, weren't afraid to show their bad sides, PLUS a previous employee came in and was cursing under his breath about how people in that office had NO MANNERS.
I'm not sure about this one job I applied for--it seems that the company is looking for very specific people--people from upper-middle to upper class statuses. Some of the questions asked implied it--they were trying to find out if you were well-off. It's understandable, because it will help you in your career there. I just find it... unfair, I think. The people are nice, it seems, but if I ever get hired, I'm sure I'll always feel uneasy wearing generic clothes, eating cheap food, et cetera. It's a prestigious company, the people are great, a job there would look good on my resume. But there's that... I'm-too-poor-for-you factor, and the nature of the job is too similar to the one I had before (which I was hoping to leave behind me x.x).
4. The office layout. Believe it or not, if you want effective employees, you'd want to invest in a nice office. I think that privacy is key for every individual. Semi-privacy (short cubes with glass windows) is okay. But one long freaking table? That guarantees the person you're sitting beside is peeking at your work and that your bags and stuff are side-by-side? Um. That makes me uncomfortable. I think I've been spoiled by my previous employer--we were given private cubes--lots of space, just a solitary window by the entrance, but you're basically facing walls in three corners. How cool is that? You can talk to people from the area, because it's pretty small (yet spacey), but unless somebody passes by your cube, nobody can observe how your fix your wedgie or adjust your bra or whatever. Also, you're not allowed to, but you can eat in secret with tall cubes like the ones in my previous job. Ahhhhh, I regret leaving. Gah. -_-
I don't like cramped spaces. I'd also prefer not to have people working behind, or in front of me unless we're separated by cube walls. Of course, you don't always get what you want, but sometimes, you get lucky and get to work in a really awesome office. It's pretty much hit-or-miss in this aspect.
I've also encountered horrible offices recently. Gawd. One was a startup "company", they had two brands under it, and they all worked in one freaking room. Like, one unit. It looked like an examination room. People were sitting around each other and a lot of the chairs were plastic. There was no receiving area, and the "office" also doubled as a warehouse where they keep their products. Everybody was in the same room--from the IT people to the creative people to the management people to the general services people... just... every "department" (I keep putting quotation marks because it's a very small company) was in the same room. Ugh.
Another office looked like a classroom. Yes, there were cubes. But there were just too many people in one space, not separated by walls. The cubes are short, too, and windowed. Plus, there was a strange seating arrangement--people worked in rows. So you had people working behind you, and there are people working behind them, etc. It was too cramped. You can kick the person in front of you. *Sigh*
I'll definitely add more to this list if I think of any new considerations. I know I've been ranting about being jobless FOREVER, but I can't really afford to have short-term jobs anymore. I don't want to just work, I want a career... so I have to make sure I can stay for as long as I like at a company that doesn't shred goddamn pounds off me for too many reasons.
I hope my next job will have more pros than cons...
Wish me luck.
Lilith
--
*Code name/s
I know I'm only supposed to choose wisely, but not be picky. However, there are some things that indicate that the job I'm applying for isn't the right one for me:
1. The job's nature. If it's a sales job, or something that requires A LOT of exposure to different people on a daily basis, it isn't for me. Those types of jobs take so much energy for me, and, coming from experience, makes me want to lock myself up in my room all throughout the weekend because I know it's the only place where I can get my alone time.
2. The company's reputation. If the employer is from the industry I majored in, good. If it's slightly off (pharmaceutical distributors, FMCG, etc.), it has to be a big, or well-known firm. I would trust that I'd be in good hands because these organizations, I'm sure, have a good track record in terms of taking care of their employees.
3. The culture I've observed during the interview. There can be misconceptions regarding a workplace's culture. I was actually pretty nervous when I first had my job, because I had only met the people who interviewed me at the time, and they were the only ones I was sure were nice. I remember overhearing other employees in the background and feeling intimidated because I was so sure I haven't encountered people like them before. I was wrong, though--my co-workers were awesome.
I still observe, though, every time I am interviewed, the atmosphere of the workplace. I was crushed twice because I liked two of them so much but I had to decline the first one's offer, and the second one seemed to have hired somebody else. What I liked was the aura the people gave off in those offices--they were positive. I could feel not just the hard work, but the drive, the optimism, the support and openness of these people. They hired the right people, I could tell--because they were operating under the guidance of their company's values.
I've recently encountered an office with bad vibes in them. The employees were a little rude, unfriendly, stuck in their own little worlds, weren't afraid to show their bad sides, PLUS a previous employee came in and was cursing under his breath about how people in that office had NO MANNERS.
I'm not sure about this one job I applied for--it seems that the company is looking for very specific people--people from upper-middle to upper class statuses. Some of the questions asked implied it--they were trying to find out if you were well-off. It's understandable, because it will help you in your career there. I just find it... unfair, I think. The people are nice, it seems, but if I ever get hired, I'm sure I'll always feel uneasy wearing generic clothes, eating cheap food, et cetera. It's a prestigious company, the people are great, a job there would look good on my resume. But there's that... I'm-too-poor-for-you factor, and the nature of the job is too similar to the one I had before (which I was hoping to leave behind me x.x).
4. The office layout. Believe it or not, if you want effective employees, you'd want to invest in a nice office. I think that privacy is key for every individual. Semi-privacy (short cubes with glass windows) is okay. But one long freaking table? That guarantees the person you're sitting beside is peeking at your work and that your bags and stuff are side-by-side? Um. That makes me uncomfortable. I think I've been spoiled by my previous employer--we were given private cubes--lots of space, just a solitary window by the entrance, but you're basically facing walls in three corners. How cool is that? You can talk to people from the area, because it's pretty small (yet spacey), but unless somebody passes by your cube, nobody can observe how your fix your wedgie or adjust your bra or whatever. Also, you're not allowed to, but you can eat in secret with tall cubes like the ones in my previous job. Ahhhhh, I regret leaving. Gah. -_-
I don't like cramped spaces. I'd also prefer not to have people working behind, or in front of me unless we're separated by cube walls. Of course, you don't always get what you want, but sometimes, you get lucky and get to work in a really awesome office. It's pretty much hit-or-miss in this aspect.
I've also encountered horrible offices recently. Gawd. One was a startup "company", they had two brands under it, and they all worked in one freaking room. Like, one unit. It looked like an examination room. People were sitting around each other and a lot of the chairs were plastic. There was no receiving area, and the "office" also doubled as a warehouse where they keep their products. Everybody was in the same room--from the IT people to the creative people to the management people to the general services people... just... every "department" (I keep putting quotation marks because it's a very small company) was in the same room. Ugh.
Another office looked like a classroom. Yes, there were cubes. But there were just too many people in one space, not separated by walls. The cubes are short, too, and windowed. Plus, there was a strange seating arrangement--people worked in rows. So you had people working behind you, and there are people working behind them, etc. It was too cramped. You can kick the person in front of you. *Sigh*
I'll definitely add more to this list if I think of any new considerations. I know I've been ranting about being jobless FOREVER, but I can't really afford to have short-term jobs anymore. I don't want to just work, I want a career... so I have to make sure I can stay for as long as I like at a company that doesn't shred goddamn pounds off me for too many reasons.
I hope my next job will have more pros than cons...
Wish me luck.
Lilith
--
*Code name/s
Friday, August 2, 2013
Lilith: Toll fees
The title is not literal.
I suck. I used to write very good blog posts... back in my not-so-anonymous blogs. Now I can only sigh at the length and the frustrating lack of passion in every word I seem to post on here. I think the best one has been the very first entry—but I guess all this—this hollow sensation I’m getting—is just because I feel like my life has no real purpose right now. I’m unemployed, having a hard time looking for a job, probably being rejected by all the firms I’ve sent applications to and that have screened me, and probably made a stupid mistake turning down a job offer only because it will ruin my health.
(Only ruin my health? Really? “Only”?
(hmm, guess I still made the right decision...?))
I think my depression shows through my eating and sleeping habits: my appetite has been weak for almost two months now. I gained back the ten pounds I lost when I was still employed, but I’m not exactly healthy. I think I eat half the amount of what I usually do, which is 50% less than the right amount of food intake if I want to reach my goal weight. More meat! More carbs! More veggies! But nope. I’m too depressed right now to even get excited over my favorite dishes. That, ladies and gentlemen, got me very worried.
I discovered something—with the right kind of rice, and with some chopsticks I can eat as much as I can without having to deal much with my PMS-y appetite. But we didn’t have any chopsticks, so I ate with one hand, using a fork. For everything.
I think there’s a certain appeal to eating with one hand as opposed to two; an appeal to only being able to put so much in your mouth at one time. A spoon can easily ruin that—especially a big one (which we have and use. Can’t stand it! Toads have bigger mouths than I do!).
I think there’s a deeper science with eating food. Duh. There definitely is—it’s psychology. If people who work in the food industry know there’s a proper way to eat certain foods (y’know, what wine goes with what, what type of pasta or cheese to use with what dish, etc.), then there are ways to literally eat food that will make them taste better for you.
I think M&M’s taste better when you crush them with your teeth while they’re lying vertically between them. When I was in high school, I knew a couple of people that ate their potato chips by crushing the contents and getting a plastic spoon to scoop the crushed bits with. I’ve heard of people using ketchup for everything—yes, even for dishes with soup. *Shudder*
Here’s my fascination with consuming only tiny, bite-sized amounts of food in my mouth—figured it always leaves you wanting more. Our helper’s cooking is a carbon copy of my mom’s, so there’s no room for disinterest. I thought how embarrassing it would be if people actually saw me eating with just a fork, but you have to do something to maintain your health.
I keep running out of companies to send applications to. I’ve looked up Top 1000 companies and sent applications even to whatever hasn’t been included in the list. I was stupid not to start searching right after I left my job.
Ugh, but I needed to rest. I was a wreck—I literally looked like a zombie back then. You’ve no idea.
If I wasn’t so goddamned unhealthy, I could’ve just saw to it that I’d have a place to go to after leaving work. Oh, well, I’m young and stupid. Young people make mistakes (but they’re pretty fucking dumb if they repeat them... so that means I’m brainless!) and I figured the best way to learn from something is to learn it the hard way.
I’ve gotten lost so many times, but it’s because of those moments of darkness that I am now enlightened.
Shit, did the brainless Lilith just say something cool? Uh oh, damn, now I’m gonna be popular. Hey, want me to sign your shirt? Your butt?
Kidding aside.
I give myself brain damage by smashing my head against the wall everyday out of sheer self-disappointment... but something keeps telling me that I’m still doing the right thing. I mean, I’m doing my best. I’ve done nothing but look for jobs and send applications besides reading books, watching and reading the news, eating, bathing and sleeping.
I suck. I used to write very good blog posts... back in my not-so-anonymous blogs. Now I can only sigh at the length and the frustrating lack of passion in every word I seem to post on here. I think the best one has been the very first entry—but I guess all this—this hollow sensation I’m getting—is just because I feel like my life has no real purpose right now. I’m unemployed, having a hard time looking for a job, probably being rejected by all the firms I’ve sent applications to and that have screened me, and probably made a stupid mistake turning down a job offer only because it will ruin my health.
(Only ruin my health? Really? “Only”?
(hmm, guess I still made the right decision...?))
I think my depression shows through my eating and sleeping habits: my appetite has been weak for almost two months now. I gained back the ten pounds I lost when I was still employed, but I’m not exactly healthy. I think I eat half the amount of what I usually do, which is 50% less than the right amount of food intake if I want to reach my goal weight. More meat! More carbs! More veggies! But nope. I’m too depressed right now to even get excited over my favorite dishes. That, ladies and gentlemen, got me very worried.
I discovered something—with the right kind of rice, and with some chopsticks I can eat as much as I can without having to deal much with my PMS-y appetite. But we didn’t have any chopsticks, so I ate with one hand, using a fork. For everything.
I think there’s a certain appeal to eating with one hand as opposed to two; an appeal to only being able to put so much in your mouth at one time. A spoon can easily ruin that—especially a big one (which we have and use. Can’t stand it! Toads have bigger mouths than I do!).
I think there’s a deeper science with eating food. Duh. There definitely is—it’s psychology. If people who work in the food industry know there’s a proper way to eat certain foods (y’know, what wine goes with what, what type of pasta or cheese to use with what dish, etc.), then there are ways to literally eat food that will make them taste better for you.
I think M&M’s taste better when you crush them with your teeth while they’re lying vertically between them. When I was in high school, I knew a couple of people that ate their potato chips by crushing the contents and getting a plastic spoon to scoop the crushed bits with. I’ve heard of people using ketchup for everything—yes, even for dishes with soup. *Shudder*
Here’s my fascination with consuming only tiny, bite-sized amounts of food in my mouth—figured it always leaves you wanting more. Our helper’s cooking is a carbon copy of my mom’s, so there’s no room for disinterest. I thought how embarrassing it would be if people actually saw me eating with just a fork, but you have to do something to maintain your health.
I keep running out of companies to send applications to. I’ve looked up Top 1000 companies and sent applications even to whatever hasn’t been included in the list. I was stupid not to start searching right after I left my job.
Ugh, but I needed to rest. I was a wreck—I literally looked like a zombie back then. You’ve no idea.
If I wasn’t so goddamned unhealthy, I could’ve just saw to it that I’d have a place to go to after leaving work. Oh, well, I’m young and stupid. Young people make mistakes (but they’re pretty fucking dumb if they repeat them... so that means I’m brainless!) and I figured the best way to learn from something is to learn it the hard way.
I’ve gotten lost so many times, but it’s because of those moments of darkness that I am now enlightened.
Shit, did the brainless Lilith just say something cool? Uh oh, damn, now I’m gonna be popular. Hey, want me to sign your shirt? Your butt?
Kidding aside.
I give myself brain damage by smashing my head against the wall everyday out of sheer self-disappointment... but something keeps telling me that I’m still doing the right thing. I mean, I’m doing my best. I’ve done nothing but look for jobs and send applications besides reading books, watching and reading the news, eating, bathing and sleeping.
I’m on the right track. I’m on the right
track. I’m on the right track.
Right?
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Lilith: When a relationship matures
I’m not a relationship expert. Nonetheless,
I can speak for the feminine gender regarding this subject, and can probably give
sound opinions on the matter... I think.
-_-
The nature of a romantic relationship you have when you’re in your teens is different from that of one you have when you’re in your twenties, thirties, etc. Of course, we can’t make generalizations, because each relationship is unique.
The nature of a romantic relationship you have when you’re in your teens is different from that of one you have when you’re in your twenties, thirties, etc. Of course, we can’t make generalizations, because each relationship is unique.
If you’re one of those people
who have been with your partner since you were teenagers (we are now, of
course, assuming you’re much older), I assume many things have changed in your
relationship. You may be more deeply connected, or connected in more ways than
you could have ever imagined when you first dated. Perhaps you’re sick of one
another, or are hating each other more and more as time passes. You could also
be falling, or growing apart.
If you’re anything like me and you care about staying together, you will see the problem/s and have intelligent forecasts—and a lot of times you won’t see good things in the future—so you talk to your boyfriend or girlfriend about it and find ways, together, to improve things.
My biggest relationship issues have something to do with verbal and mental communication. When you’re in a new relationship, you never really run out of things to talk about and you don’t have to be good at reading each other’s actions. You will usually be pleased with the things you discover about one another, because you and your partner strive to put your best feet forward at all times. You do this too much that when you are faced with your first challenge—a disturbing discovery—you can easily shrug it off.
Miles* and I were the happiest couple I knew. That honeymoon stage lasted for, I think, two years.
But early into the first year, when I was at my happiest with him, he crushed my heart for the very first time. I was obsessed with looking people up online, so when I looked him up, I found out he had a girlfriend.
We’ve been dating for around three to four months then. How could he have “forgotten” to mention that? I confronted him the following day, after I thought I would die of hypertension from stress.
He told me he had already broken up with her. He said he had taken care of that two weeks prior to my discovery. It didn’t help anything and I didn’t trust him at all... but that, I figured, wasn’t the worst of my discoveries. It was just the beginning of my trip to Calvary (more on that on this blog in the near future). I can sort of laugh at that one now that I have more serious and alarming issues—now, with real, heavy, adult-relationship concerns, I find that fault cute.
If you’re anything like me and you care about staying together, you will see the problem/s and have intelligent forecasts—and a lot of times you won’t see good things in the future—so you talk to your boyfriend or girlfriend about it and find ways, together, to improve things.
My biggest relationship issues have something to do with verbal and mental communication. When you’re in a new relationship, you never really run out of things to talk about and you don’t have to be good at reading each other’s actions. You will usually be pleased with the things you discover about one another, because you and your partner strive to put your best feet forward at all times. You do this too much that when you are faced with your first challenge—a disturbing discovery—you can easily shrug it off.
Miles* and I were the happiest couple I knew. That honeymoon stage lasted for, I think, two years.
But early into the first year, when I was at my happiest with him, he crushed my heart for the very first time. I was obsessed with looking people up online, so when I looked him up, I found out he had a girlfriend.
We’ve been dating for around three to four months then. How could he have “forgotten” to mention that? I confronted him the following day, after I thought I would die of hypertension from stress.
He told me he had already broken up with her. He said he had taken care of that two weeks prior to my discovery. It didn’t help anything and I didn’t trust him at all... but that, I figured, wasn’t the worst of my discoveries. It was just the beginning of my trip to Calvary (more on that on this blog in the near future). I can sort of laugh at that one now that I have more serious and alarming issues—now, with real, heavy, adult-relationship concerns, I find that fault cute.
I broke up with Miles at one
point because he had just become so indifferent, short, and cold; on top of
being his typical uninterested self. I admit that I can be easily bothered by
hurtful words, but that’s because you are supposed to be compassionate towards
people you care about/love. I end up making a big deal out of such things,
which in turn, upsets him and stresses him out, and then he gets short and
irate. He would spit one offensive sentence after another, just adding insult
to injury. I try to reason out with him, try to enlighten him about what
exactly is happening, but he’s already shut
me out. He only cared about having a good night’s rest over solving
pressing matters.
Before the break-up, he made me
cry every day (I used to barely cry because of him)—he didn’t care about the
relationship anymore, and he was sick of me. Sick of me caring about this
relationship and trying to fix it and trying to explain to him that he shouldn’t
be hurting me, and that he should be kind to me. He always assured he was
trying his best to be better, but I always found that hard to believe because
right after every promise that he’ll sensitive to my feelings, he would find
another way to similarly offend me—within another week, the following day, or
the next half hour.
We were dealing with an endless cycle of fuckup-fight- makeup. Each time we fight we are slightly different people—I think we like each other less and we pull away from each other more. He’s less patient, I’m less forgiving, he’s less sensitive and I’m stricter. The only point we meet at? We were both growing exponentially lax towards each other. He can grab me and throw me around as he pleases because he knows I’ll never leave him; I can do the same because I believe I have the right to. Is it okay that we do these things? I don’t own him, and he shouldn’t be taking me for granted. We are equally at fault and we screw each other up equally. The good news? We’re both intelligent and underneath all the anger and hatred, we knew what was wrong, and what we should do.
We do have miraculous, and rather peaceful conversations wherein we discuss about how we can improve our relationship. We talk about the manner we address each other and how to make it better. I suggest a shitton of things to help us get closer again, besides the usual link-sharing and storytelling.
Miles and I are from very different backgrounds. For one, only one of us is Asian. We were brought up differently, too. He’s government/service-oriented employee and I’m in the communications/creative field. I can write and draw and shit and he can do math and engineering shit. He has a dick, I have mammaries (I think). He’s just a few years older, which means I’m still a few years older than he is. I’m good at handling money, he... needs improvement in that area. The world amazes me, and I am endlessly fascinated by so many things—a dynamic character, that used to be one-dimensional and self-centered and contended living inside a box. He’s a little bit more into specific things, and will tend to avoid things outside of his expertise or interest. He makes up for that by being outgoing, wanting to explore the world, never being able to stay put at home like I do. In short, he’s a dog, and I’m a cat.
We were dealing with an endless cycle of fuckup-fight- makeup. Each time we fight we are slightly different people—I think we like each other less and we pull away from each other more. He’s less patient, I’m less forgiving, he’s less sensitive and I’m stricter. The only point we meet at? We were both growing exponentially lax towards each other. He can grab me and throw me around as he pleases because he knows I’ll never leave him; I can do the same because I believe I have the right to. Is it okay that we do these things? I don’t own him, and he shouldn’t be taking me for granted. We are equally at fault and we screw each other up equally. The good news? We’re both intelligent and underneath all the anger and hatred, we knew what was wrong, and what we should do.
We do have miraculous, and rather peaceful conversations wherein we discuss about how we can improve our relationship. We talk about the manner we address each other and how to make it better. I suggest a shitton of things to help us get closer again, besides the usual link-sharing and storytelling.
Miles and I are from very different backgrounds. For one, only one of us is Asian. We were brought up differently, too. He’s government/service-oriented employee and I’m in the communications/creative field. I can write and draw and shit and he can do math and engineering shit. He has a dick, I have mammaries (I think). He’s just a few years older, which means I’m still a few years older than he is. I’m good at handling money, he... needs improvement in that area. The world amazes me, and I am endlessly fascinated by so many things—a dynamic character, that used to be one-dimensional and self-centered and contended living inside a box. He’s a little bit more into specific things, and will tend to avoid things outside of his expertise or interest. He makes up for that by being outgoing, wanting to explore the world, never being able to stay put at home like I do. In short, he’s a dog, and I’m a cat.
I guess that’s where some of
our problems lie. We’re actually so different. Neither of us ever thought we’d ever
disagree so much about so many things at the beginning of the relationship. And,
duh, it’s because we only shared our interests with each other—and tried to
mirror each other.
As our relationship aged, we slacked off more. Yes, we got busier, dealt with more real-life problems as time passed, but you can only control that so much until it starts to control you.
Thankfully life stress hasn’t gotten to me bad enough to ruin my love life yet. His tolerance seems to be a little smaller, since he can only handle so much ‘til he breaks. I insist that he can help it, that he can help himself, because there’s no other way but to do that unless he wants to ruin us; but he needs more time to learn how to.
Controlling your emotions, especially negative ones, can be learned. As educated adults, he and I can support each other on that, to have a more positive attitude that will help him and I become us again.
Being uninterested, tuning out, and lack of verbal communication, though, can be a massive deal breaker. Just because you’re from different backgrounds doesn’t mean you have to remain an alien to their world. You actually shouldn’t. I think it’s so cool that mom can’t do sports and isn’t into sports, but she watches with my dad the sports guy, and understands basically every sport’s mechanics. I find it even cooler that dad the action movie fan buys and watches feel-good, female-skewed movies with my mom and I. And likes it! These seemingly simple gestures are far greater than what they appear to be.
I now tell Miles that there’s no reason to just sit there and listen when I talk about my work. It feels like a chore when I explain terms he may not be familiar with because he just stares blankly at me and nods and mhms. I don’t know if he gets it, and I’m sure he doesn’t, so I encourage him to ask. What, why, how. I like it when people ask me questions. I’d LOVE it if he did. His work jargon usually throws me off sometimes so I’d politely (or sometimes, impatiently, because hello, I don’t know anything about machine work) ask him to explain what this one tool is, its purpose, how it’s dealt with, et cetera. To be honest, his face kind of lights up a little when I ask questions—not just about work, or his hobbies that I don’t share with him, but about things in general... like things I don’t understand, or his opinion on a theory, experience or event.
I think that one of the best ways to keep each other happy in a relationship is to keep learning more about each other. This requires a keen sense of observation and a natural, endless curiosity about the other person. Your partner-pleasing powers increase when you know more about them.
As our relationship aged, we slacked off more. Yes, we got busier, dealt with more real-life problems as time passed, but you can only control that so much until it starts to control you.
Thankfully life stress hasn’t gotten to me bad enough to ruin my love life yet. His tolerance seems to be a little smaller, since he can only handle so much ‘til he breaks. I insist that he can help it, that he can help himself, because there’s no other way but to do that unless he wants to ruin us; but he needs more time to learn how to.
Controlling your emotions, especially negative ones, can be learned. As educated adults, he and I can support each other on that, to have a more positive attitude that will help him and I become us again.
Being uninterested, tuning out, and lack of verbal communication, though, can be a massive deal breaker. Just because you’re from different backgrounds doesn’t mean you have to remain an alien to their world. You actually shouldn’t. I think it’s so cool that mom can’t do sports and isn’t into sports, but she watches with my dad the sports guy, and understands basically every sport’s mechanics. I find it even cooler that dad the action movie fan buys and watches feel-good, female-skewed movies with my mom and I. And likes it! These seemingly simple gestures are far greater than what they appear to be.
I now tell Miles that there’s no reason to just sit there and listen when I talk about my work. It feels like a chore when I explain terms he may not be familiar with because he just stares blankly at me and nods and mhms. I don’t know if he gets it, and I’m sure he doesn’t, so I encourage him to ask. What, why, how. I like it when people ask me questions. I’d LOVE it if he did. His work jargon usually throws me off sometimes so I’d politely (or sometimes, impatiently, because hello, I don’t know anything about machine work) ask him to explain what this one tool is, its purpose, how it’s dealt with, et cetera. To be honest, his face kind of lights up a little when I ask questions—not just about work, or his hobbies that I don’t share with him, but about things in general... like things I don’t understand, or his opinion on a theory, experience or event.
I think that one of the best ways to keep each other happy in a relationship is to keep learning more about each other. This requires a keen sense of observation and a natural, endless curiosity about the other person. Your partner-pleasing powers increase when you know more about them.
If you really are into your
partner, consider these things: you don’t have to share every interest, but showing
them that you’re willing to be part of their world more, learn about them
endlessly, keeps them just as interested in you. Remember what got you together
in the first place—shared interests,
opinions, experiences.
I have a feeling we’ll get back together very soon.
I have a feeling we’ll get back together very soon.
Lilith
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*Code name/s
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*Code name/s
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