Lilith:Unorthodox Christian into New Age

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

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

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

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

ATYT: Malicious blood relatives

Remember: when dealing with these types of people, recite the Miranda warning in your head. In this case, you are extorted by your human need for safety and security to remain silent, because EVERYTHING you say or do will be used against you for no particular reason.

I wonder if we are all related to someone who plants seeds of hate towards their own relatives, no matter how young or old, whether or not they have met, or no matter what the frequency of their interaction, for their own entertainment.

I also wonder where they get that attitude from. Was it the way they were brought up, is it in their blood to HATE HATE HATE HAPPY LUCKY AMAZING RELATIVES MUST BRING THEM DOWN THEY CAN’T BE THAT PERFECT

Is it their culture? Does it even have anything to do with them being relatives? Maybe they are just really spiteful people that have too much time on their hands. Or they are too insecure and unhappy with their lives that they can’t stand seeing other people happy... whether they’re blood-related or not.

I am unfortunately related to such relatives. I’m telling you, it’s not just one or two of them, they’re a large group. They’re basically a small community (I’m from a large family), with only one or two people that are genuinely nice, who I believe I can trust.

Fortunately, I have a bigger support group consisting of relatives as well. They are the complete opposite of Team Negatron: they congratulate you for your achievements, have got your back all the way, pray for your success and happiness, are pleased when they hear about your accomplishments, really, truly care about you, are affected when you are faced with misfortune, appreciate and love your company, oh, I could go on...

They’re another story (a better one, too), so let’s stick with the cancerous team. They want nothing but to make up stories behind your back, twist your words no matter how innocent they are (thus you can never trust them and must keep in mind that they are just professional ass-kissers), just to make things intriguing and interesting, they gossip A LOT, do not appreciate beauty, take advantage of your kindness, do not consider your convenience, are insecure and dangerously envious, Jesus, this could’ve been a shorter paragraph if I just enumerated the Seven Deadly Sins.

I always try to piece together everything I know about each and every one of these relatives to figure out what could have made them so nasty.

I get it: they don’t have the best childhoods. However, when you are over 21, you are responsible for your own actions and decisions—my mother always told me that. There is no excuse for bad behavior.

Why did they choose to be so negative? No wonder they get seriously ill when they’re ill. I’m talking about deadly diseases that they harvest within themselves out of so much hatred and butthurt.

Here’s how I deal with this sad bunch of garbagemouths:

1.     Avoidance. If they are my friends, followers, or whatever in any social media account, I make sure everything is private. Otherwise, I just don’t connect with them on there. I’m the same way offline, for my own (and other loved ones’) safety. These people get bored of their lives that they just need a little something about you to spice everything up with carefully-crafted intrigues. I keep any form of exposure to a minimum as much as I can—this is a must. Not to mention it usually works, and I am usually at peace, until...

2.     Acting professionally. My dad, being a good guy who believes in the saying ‘blood is thicker than water’, cares about these people no matter how troublesome they are. (But let me tell you one thing: good guy dad has been screwed over and over again by these people in many ways that no human being deserved. Dad’s forgiveness level: Jesus, because I’m pretty sure Team Negatron members are Judas’ descendants.)

To respect dad, we sometimes meet these people, typically during somebody’s birthday or holidays. I don’t ignore them—I greet them with hugs and kisses or fist pumps and ask them how they’ve been. I talk with them, albeit cautiously. I don’t act fake smiles or act excited around them, because I am not, but I try to be pleasant.

When they have questions, I give short answers, and avoid sharing feelings because of their habits to twist words and make you look bad. The key is to use all your positive energy to shield yourself from further scrutiny... or you can always act busy with your smartphone.

Sometimes, they will intentionally start badmouthing other people, usually somebody you know, in front of you. There are times they will want you to be their audience. I immediately hold a hand up and let them know I am not interested in such negative things, especially if it’s their victim’s business. I show them I’m not into sticking my nose into every goddamn thing, not at all. The stubborn ones just keep going and even solicit an opinion on the insignificant matter (whatshisface got somebody pregnant and now he’s broke, whatsherface is being a rebellious teenager) but I politely tell them that it’s none of my fucking concern, so I don’t want to hear it. It’s just the right thing to do.

3.     Acting smarter than you think you’ll ever be. This one’s pretty easy if you’re a smooth talker. If you’re not, well, shit. Run away or something. Pretend to have diarrhea, I guess. What I do is I try to give intelligent opinions or answers whenever I am engaged into conversation. They will still call you ugly and make fun of your mannerisms (as if they don’t have any) behind your back to other people you know, but at least they can’t call you stupid. I’ve learned this kind of the hard way. Good news is, they’re stuck in the past, thinking I’m still ignorant and sheltered, but they can’t be more wrong. I’m done being bothered by that.

4.     Being fiercely happy. If you can emit a light, do so at all times. Especially in pictures, because you try not to see these people too often. I can’t do that, though, so I just take many happy pictures. These evil witches will do everything to find some dirt about you so they will approach the people closest to you—friends, other good relatives, your parents. I used to hate having pictures taken, but I now welcome it, knowing that those little shits will never see me cry or frown or anything. I’m happily buying groceries with my mom! I’m happily having dinner with my parents at this restaurant! I’m happily catching up with my good friend! We love each other so much, we’re hugging! They’ll hate me more for it and they’ll be pushed to find some garbage about me harder, but they’re so butthurt that I really don’t give a crap.

5.     Forgetting. Believe it or not, unless somebody talks about them, those evil relatives are basically nonexistent to me—no shit. I will never forget the year that I forgot I had this one relative—know how I remembered her? She made up some story about how I was lesbian and had a girlfriend (she also used to tell my dad I was suicidal... which I’ve never been, LMAO) and told my dad (unfortunately, even when he’s a generally nice guy, dad doesn’t seem to always be ready to give his best daughter the benefit of the doubt), and the misunderstanding, in turn, alarmed him. Thankfully, we have Mrs. Otrera, who will never in a million years believe that I could kill an ant. An exaggeration, but you know what I mean.
I don’t mind having the notion that about half of my relatives don’t exist. There’s a reason I’ve never been close with that lot, and that I spent the most awesome time with a bigger, better set of relatives—it’s because I wasn’t meant to be a bad fruit. No matter how much those shitheads insist that I’ve always been a rotten kid and I will grow up to be nothing, even they know that those are wishful thinking.

Doesn’t this make me sound like an asshole? It probably does, but I’ll never be as bad as they are. If they were the tiniest bit nicer, I’d be a fucking saint. A cherub, even. They’ve tried to make my parents’ lives hard, hated on my mom and I for no reason other than we’re better, more sincere people than they ever will be... or that we’re simply different from them. We don’t have so much hatred in our hearts. We try to see the best in people, even when it’s hard to, sometimes.

I only have one message for those nasty relatives: take care of yourself—a black heart will kill you.

Lilith

ATYT: Creeping on Alaska

I’m ashamed to have barely read over six books in the past six years, so I downloaded a ton of e-books to remedy that. I downloaded novels from authors with resounding names first, then ones with compelling plots. I figured I needed to read more local books because local literature is so rich, and it portrays (what you already know about) your culture on a deeper and more edifying, yet intimate level.

Dear All: this is not a review. I don’t do reviews, because I feel that to be entitled to review something, especially literary pieces, music, films or visual art, you have to have at least enough knowledge about the subject in general. Also, people should be able to trust your taste somehow, and your analytical abilities.

When I try to think of an example of a bad review, I remember one of my friends from my previous job talking about awful food blogs over lunch. As we struggled to keep the food in our mouths, we listened to her vocally fake-blogging:

“The dish was so........ good. I can really taste... the salt and the pepper in it. It’s just so... great!”
“It has a hint of... what do you call it? Sugar!”

Obviously because I’m a master of none (except convincing people to agree with me/unconscious hypnotism???), you can’t really trust a review when I make one. Not until I can trust myself with that.

Ergo, here’s my deal with J. Green’s Looking for Alaska: after reading a third of it, I’m not sure I can say that I like it. I want to like books, no matter what the genre, for the simple reason that books are the shit. I used to believe every that no book is bullshit, but for some reason, I keep picking up the wrong books all the time. Seriously, every time I decide I don’t want to read them any further, my heart breaks. So my heart broke over and over again with every page of Alaska.

Forgive me, Mr. Green, but your novel reeks of Hugh* (other than that... it's pretty awesome). I him Hugh because I don’t care enough to look up a fitting name (oh, really, Lil, but you care enough to explain, to get defensive when nobody even cares?), but mostly because majority of the letters spell UGH. And that is the feeling I get when I come across Hugh: ugh.

Before I continue, I think this dude needs an introduction—

Hugh was one of the horrible men I fell hard for, for no particular (and most probably foolish) reasons when I was in my late teens. He was intelligent and funny, but creepy, intolerably eccentric, abusive, inconsiderate, stubborn, thick and slow (believe me when I say that people with high IQs can be slow and thick, UGH). He emotionally blackmailed me on purpose both to punish me; oh, and there’s a 99% chance he considered my suffering rather orgasmic. But, more than anything, Hugh was just weird, just too goddamn weird...

He liked vore, and had a mouth and stomach fetish. By stomach, I mean the INSIDE of the stomach, where you digest food. He wants to be peed on and vomited on (good lord...). He claims to be submissive in bed, which I’m sure is boring, and likes to go down on women not because it pleases them, not because he likes the act itself, but because he likes being sat on, being underneath, and feeling like the woman is towering over him. In the end, his vorarephilic ass will get the better of him. And you, if you even consider dating him.

Listen, if you’re into vore, feet, scat, or whatever, dude, I don’t care. But once you cross the line (e.g. talking about things I find disturbing, which may or may not involve your strange fetish, after I politely ask you not to) I get mad. I get furious.
Ladies and gentlemen: Hugh!

Okay, Pudge from Looking for Alaska may not resemble Hugh, and I’m still trying to put my finger on what exactly I find Hugh-like (a.k.a. annoying) about the protagonist. They must be on similar intellectual levels, also the fact that they are tall, have strange-looking bodies, have lewd thoughts about girls, the lack of romantic relationships in their lives, basically, their creepiness towards girls. It doesn’t help that I share some qualities with Alaska, who Miles lusts after, and that Alaska’s boyfriend, Jake, sounds a lot like my Miles*.

So, every time Pudge is creeping on Alaska (checking out her breasts, curves, counting the layers separating his skin from her skin), I can’t help but visualize Hugh creeping on me; and I get pissed. I know it’s in the past, but the fact that he’s still around, and would sometimes talk to me makes it hard for me to read this book. Oh, I’ll finish reading it, all right, because what makes it worthwhile is John Green’s writing style. I think it’s witty and funny, and I’ve noted so many good quotes. The writing also reminds me vaguely of how I used to write back in college... oh, I can be vain, all right.

Change of topic, as mister pukeface doesn’t deserve too much space on this blog. Today, I went to claim my last payment from my old workplace and saw a lot of people I missed. God, was the place nostalgic. Everybody noticed a change of style and the welcome weight gain, which I claimed was from getting enough rest and not skipping meals and... general happiness (or lack of work stress).

My interview with the real estate firm went pretty well, too, and I discovered the job was also pretty cool. I just hope it doesn’t mess with my health again and that I thrive in the marketing field. I guess my plan, as of now, is to slowly inch myself closer and closer to Art, and not freaking jump from one area of expertise to another. I hope to get a follow-up call from that company, and that they don’t snub me like the other great businesses I applied to. :(

Because even when I’m tired and the light at the end of the tunnel seems to be far, I have to keep going, never slowing down, because I’m always one step closer when I’m trying. Jesus help me.

Lilith

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*Code name/s

According to yours truly (ATYT): The problem with friends

I cannot believe I am starting a new journal, one that, I hope, I will be able to maintain for a very long time, because of a not-exactly-friend friend that I got into a fight with today.

Let us leave the introductions for later.

In my experience, most bad "friends" want to stick around when they need you for something—fun, laughs, entertainment, advice, ranting and complaining, companionship (both good (they like being with you) and bad (they feel awkward being alone and you’re the only one around who can accompany them)), tickets to some concert, prestige, popularity, oh, I can go on...

It’s unfortunate that I can only name two out of all of the friends I’ve ever had who have never used me. In fact, I think I’ve used them and owed them. However, if you know me, you’d know that I’d love to give back, and more, simply for their friendship. Knowing that they know that makes me happy.

I have been betrayed so many times by friends that I loved so much. One small misunderstanding and they up and leave. This first type of ‘friends’, don’t even bother to ask what was really going on in your head, if it was possible they misunderstood you and jumped to conclusions. No—they just assume the worst; that you had evil thoughts, you betrayed them, pushed them away for selfish reasons, and didn’t even bother to apologize.

Then again, why must you apologize if you did nothing wrong?

If somebody else dug a hole for you, and you were desperately yelling down for them to stop, but they ignore you and keep digging, all you can do is sit by the mouth of that piece of land and wait until they come back up. The problem is, they never do.

They’re ex-friends with you.

There are other types of Judas friends. The second one would use you and use you and use you and assume you’re okay with it (you are... at first, until you realize that you are being exploited). They make themselves available for you but inwardly resent it, and fail to hide it. They make excuses to stay away from you, but come around when they need you.

A subtype is one who forgets about you because of distance, but goes out of their way to be with others on a daily basis. This subtype, however, uses you in a good way. They really, truly want to be with you, but are distracted by the goings-on in their lives (which include other groups of companionship). They are just a little irresponsible—which you can be, sometimes. Some best friends can belong to this subtype.

Sometimes, this type can be a little more infuriating because they are overly detached, but still call you by the secret nicknames you made up together back when they used to not take you for granted. They will appear accommodating, but will find other ways to show you that you’re only getting the short end of the stick. An example? They would never go to your favorite aunt’s funeral to comfort you if you hadn’t mentioned that one of your cousins, who they like, will be there as well.

What a world we live in, eh? Is there a way for humans to evolve personality-wise and character-wise? In a positive way? I wonder. No, no... I’m not talking about culture. Unfortunately. Insensitive jerks have been around for ages; jerkdom has just been accomplished in distinct ways as dictated by culture. But jerks are jerks, whether they’re dressed in corporate wear, gowns, tights, robes or animal skin/fur (I imagine a slideshow of images portraying assholes executing their most holy assiness in said clothing).

There is also a subtype of user friends that love to insult you. I guess they want to feel more superior to you (one good thing about this is, they probably put you on a pedestal) or better than you because they are insecure about some things. That’s how they use you. They’re okay companions, really, they’re even fun and easy to talk to. But they make you feel small the way only people you look up to, who have the right to, make you feel small, minor. These people don’t push you to do better, though, they just make you feel insignificant.

Today I had my first fight with Ilom*. I never predicted a fight in our relationship, but I did predict a falling out of some sort caused by my being... user-friendly.

Ah, he finally snapped. He was in a bad mood today (he hasn’t been in a genuine good mood since the end of last year), but what set today apart is the severity of his foul mood. He was angry about something that happened. For some reason, I started talking about the lesser issue that was embedded within a bigger one. This led to telling him that I have possibly racist conclusions about a western group. He kept pressing to find out what this observation was, but I feared that he would, indeed, find it offensive. I made a joke out of it. I said:

How to make Lil tell me what she thinks about said western group:

1. Offer her some gourmet pizza
2. Don’t be part of western group (which he is part of)

It was a joke, that obviously meant I couldn’t tell him. Still, he pressed. Said the pizza was no problem, but he can’t undo his citizenship. So I said, ‘hey, too bad’. He said it was too bad, for me, as well. I didn’t know what that meant so I told him I’m fine. He then told me that he does hope so, but even if I wasn’t, it didn’t matter, because the fact that I didn’t want to share what I thought about something made him want to do the same. I just said ‘okay’.

I think the fact that I didn’t sense he was pissed, or possibly did and didn’t care about it, pissed him off. He wants me to be scared, feel guilty, or want to apologize. Basically just drop to my knees crying, or something like that. So he said, ‘later’, and told me to remember what happened today. I wasn’t sure if he was angry, so I just mirrored his response and assured him that I will remember. I thought he was going to leave, but again (and trust me, because I am good at reading people), because he was dissatisfied with my casualness, he continued, saying that he will miss our openness—at which point, I said, huh?

He began to explode. He said I’ll ‘fucking regret it the next time’ I ‘tease him like that ever again’. I was shocked. I told him I wasn’t teasing him and asked him to explain. Ah! He finally won. He had the upper hand. He said ‘no’, because I didn’t want to tell him what I thought about those certain group of people.

I was appalled. He said he was going to leave before he loses it; while I was in the middle of replying. Thankfully, I, who never allow people to end a conversation without letting me explain, sent him messages to his phone at my expense. I began explaining. Then I revealed to him what I thought about his people. He came back on just to tell me that hey, it wasn’t so difficult to admit that, was it? He left once again, and that was it. I was livid.

I don’t think we’ll be talking for a really long time, even when he’s around. I’ll make sure of it.

I used to allow that, allow friends to push me around, use and abuse me and disappear when I need them and not feel bad that they weren’t there for me. You, Ilom, said you would not tire of me. Said you would not leave me. I believed that, because in my darkest moments you were there, and you did not tire of me, and you did not leave me. You were up all night because I was hopeless and needy. Nobody sticks around for that.

I told you that one day you’ll end up as one of the unfortunate types of friends I’ve associated with; those people you called ‘garbage’. One day, you won’t think I deserve better; but you kept telling me that I’m talking about an event that never was, and never will be.

You know that one of my worst insecurities had something to do with people I care about treating me unfairly. You implied that you were better than those people. I also recall you saying that the only things that will make you hate me are death threats and lies. There obviously is no reason for me to threaten anybody, especially you, and I may be keeping things from you, but I’ve never lied. Now that you know that there are things I haven’t told you, I hope you’re not pissed. Everybody has things they don’t want to talk about.

Good, trusted friends of mine have told me that those who don’t value you don’t deserve your time, your thoughts. They deserve nothing from you. Somebody said, ‘a girl doesn’t need anyone who doesn’t need her’, and unfortunately, I agree (for the most part).

If you cannot stand the fact that I was uncomfortable about sharing an unqualified inference, and (quietly, gracefully) explode over it, and threaten me by saying you will never forgive me if it (what you assumed I was actively doing) happens again; implying that you will probably never talk to me anymore or disappear from my life, then by all means, Ilom, get out of my life, because you have always been free to do so.

If it angers you twice as much that I will not beg and plead for you to stay, please, blow your top off. It’ll make you feel better afterwards, anyway; plus, the emotional energies in the world will be more balanced (you know, as compared to when people bottle everything up inside so they can harvest food for malignant cells in their bodies).

You obviously don’t need me, the way the user friends I had didn’t need me. They can take me or leave me and just like you now, they do not see any value in simply being friends with me. You, they, want me to be superhuman—always patient, always there, always giving them what they want, always offering comfort, solace, time, effort; and never crying, never getting angry, never saying anything that would even slightly piss them off (from ‘I think prostitution should be legalized globally’ to ‘I don’t like gummi bears’—(readers, they are only examples)).

I have been working on being less needy and dependent, and I am improving every day. I am not as available as I used to be and I will never make myself available to anybody until I can trust them with my life. I am tired of learning the same lesson over and over again—that you cannot connect with people if you do not open up; but even if you do, a connection is never guaranteed.

I don’t need this, because I am strong, despite all the tears, despite the violent thoughts, despite my shortcomings, despite my mediocrity. Everybody has varying levels of these. But I am inherently strong. Whenever I think I’m breaking, I let it happen, believing the darkness will eat me up. I wake up the next morning with a harder shell, and realize I was never truly broken. I never have been broken, because there is an unseen part of me that knows how to fix it whilst delaying it.

Ilom, I valued your friendship, and I am heartbroken at the possibility of us parting ways. I wish we could stay friends, I like you, and I love you truly as a good friend.

But I loved all those friends that have hurt me in the past, too. There’s a bitter taste at the back of my tongue whenever I remember what they did to me, but I miss them; I miss them so much, and I wonder, every now and then, if there’s anything I could do to have them back. (And then I could start over—not be too needy, ask and not worry about giving back, be all over them one day and disappear the next, be that kind of friend. Then I can keep them around again.)

But I’m not ready for that, Ilom. They hurt me, you hurt me greatly, for the shallowest of reasons. You hurt me just as much as they did, if not slightly more, because you promised you never will, and I believed you.

I cannot be friends with you, dear. I don’t deserve to be thrown around anytime and not be bruised, and scared to approach you. I will not allow that... I have not allowed that for quite some time now.

I am constantly learning, dear. There is no excuse, not stress, not anger, not fatigue, not misfortune; for treating a human being who all but cares for you, this way.

But for all it’s worth (because maybe I was insensitive and thought you were more okay than you actually are), I’m sorry. But my pride and dignity assure me that I still don’t deserve this treatment.


Lilith

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*Code name/s