Tag Archives: memories

Missed Connection: A Visit Down Memory Lane

^I’m not such a fan of breaking the words in the wrong places, but I really like the concept. (Photo from http://www.buffalocomedy.com/)

I’ll get right into it because it’s a school night and nearing 2 am already. This is just one of those things that’s been bugging me for a while now, and even causing some restless dreams..so cliche, right? Moreover, the thoughts may have been reinforced when my family started watching the series entitled Sherlock. If you’re a fan of both the books and the past movies, I highly recommend you watch this; after all, there’s just 3 episodes to a season (and the show is currently on its third). The simple connection was this: Benedict Cumberbatch’s appearance reminded me of this guy. Of course, I don’t mean to say that he was as sexy as dear Sherlock, but he shared the general look.

When I was in my early years of high school, I was inclined to be close to some upper years because they were our ‘guides’ as to how to get around the campus, and they were our ‘seniors’ in various organizations. I was pretty sociable but I’ve never really been part of the popular ‘in’ crowd; I gravitated towards ‘more lonely’ people who seemed interesting but just didn’t have an ear to tell their stories to. If I was lucky, I’d end up with a really quiet person whom I’d gradually get to open up to me. This was (and still is, when it happens) gratifying because you can feel the person’s trust building and I’ve always found it nice, seeing them ‘come out of their shells’.

Moving on, there was this boy that I think was at least 2 years older than me; I don’t remember seeing him while I was in my junior year, but maybe I was just too preoccupied with my academics and same-age friends by then. Like B. Cumberbatch’s version of Sherlock, he was white, tall, and had a lanky frame; I think he wore glasses from time to time. He looked like he has some foreign blood, and I remember having primarily-English conversations with him. Thinking back, he seemed to prefer being by himself. Nevertheless, I distinctly remember taking walks with him around or school’s oval, something I don’t normally do with people unless we have long, interesting conversations. I truly hope I wasn’t obvious, but I had a crush on him back then. We got along quite well, although I don’t remember how exactly we stopped talking to one another..

Fast-forward to college. I remember thinking where he could have gone, if he even decided to stay in the same country. I didn’t dwell on it; I was pretty preoccupied with adjusting to college life and trying to face my impending academical challenges with renewed ardor. But one day, I saw him: it wasn’t hard to mistake that face for anyone else’s. He grew his hair out and was then sporting a shoulder-length head of curls, not that it fit him well. I distinctly remember feeling the urge to hide and at the same time wondering why he was alone, and whether he would remember me. I’d say we were quite close in high school, so who’s to say the past cannot repeat itself?

I was able to put him out of my mind in time. My classes pretty much confined me to my college’s set of buildings, and I never so much as caught a glimpse of him in the past semesters. But this semester, I’m taking a GE (General Education) class in the Archaeology building, which he seems to frequent. He got a haircut (oh yes please, now you’re looking more like Sherlock!) and looked as if he didn’t change at all since high school! Which then made me reconsider reacquainting myself with him. I eventually got curious enough to consider greeting him sometime; curious at to whether our previous closeness can be reestablished, and whether he just really preferred to be alone like before but still had an interesting personality.

I have doubts of course. I don’t remember his name. He would have recognized me several encounters before if he did remember me, but he showed no signs of recognition. I don’t remember anything specific about him, I just remembered being close to him; consequentially, I feel apprehensive at approaching him because I have no idea on how to open the conversation on a lighthearted yet familiar and welcoming note.

We’ll see in the coming days whether my curiosity gets the better of me, or not.

On other news, I’ve re-finished the first 5 books of the Harry Potter series! I’m now on the 6th book, which is just fitting as I was able to choose the corresponding films as the subject on my upcoming report in my Film GE. I’m supposed to focus on the essay; but it never hurt being familiar with the original works, right? 😉

Mr. Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well.. how curious.. how very curious..” He put Harry’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, “Curious.. curious..”
“Sorry,” said Harry, “but what’s curious?”
Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.
“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar.”
–excerpt from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone


Limited Memory and Small Worlds

So this is supposedly a brilliant post as it has been ages since I last posted; yet I couldn’t think of a more appealing title–not just to you potential readers, but also to myself. However, let’s make the best of it.

My laptop, according to its specifications, has a 750 GB hard drive capacity. Of course that still includes the memory needed for the operating system, but there’s actually less. Recently though, it has slowed down a lot since I only have 80+GB of memory left. No wonder I always perk up at the mention of external hard drives (which I’m bound to buy. soon.).

Despite all the files I want to save, I’m glad that this lack of memory ‘forced’ me to do some things which I ought to have done long ago. For example, I was able to delete this photo album of my last serious guy and I, which mainly consists of ‘selfies’ we took of ourselves whenever we were together or when he visits me at my house. I deleted it past July 2013 I think, and we stopped being ‘together’ on August 2012. See, the problem with us (or maybe just me) is that we humans tend to underestimate the power of our limited memory capacity. When I was with said guy, I thought that I’d have a hard time getting over him if ever we had to ‘break up’ (Disclaimer: we were never together.). Of course, he’s my first love and people say there’s something about your first love having a special spot in your heart. But the universe seemed to be on my side: we never crossed paths (although I saw him once, and my friends saw him a couple of times) and we didn’t have common friends. I barely had any reason to think of him except when I allow myself to remember experiences we’ve shared. Either time healed my wounds or it made me simply forget. A couple of weeks ago, I was in my friend’s car and a love song came up. It was a good song and I started singing along to it, only to find my friends looking at each other. Apparently, it was the song that my ex-guy sang to me on my 18th birthday (June 2012); they even had a recording of it.

But I guess the universe (or God) has a funny way of reminding me that although it gave me space, running away from memories of my ex-guy is not the proper solution to a broken heart. This semester, one of my sisters took a class in which one of her classmates was..
..you guessed it–my ex’guy’s girlfriend. Oh universe (for I wouldn’t want to be blasphemous), thou deals a tricky hand! More amusing was, this classmate of my sister’s was befriending her for they held positions in their class. She was telling my sister about having a boyfriend and gushing about how sweet her boyfriend was, without any knowledge that the one she’s befriending is actually the sister of her boyfriend’s ‘ex’.

At first, I made a big deal out of this, going so far as to share it with my friends and even try to ‘stalk’ the girl. I’ll admit it: I wanted to see who, in my mind, he replaced me with. I smiled gratefully at my friends for the supposedly-called-for dissing of this girl, which was funny since half the time I was the one defending her. My sister’s stories about the girl’s stories eventually made me think that maybe, just maybe, my ex-guy has changed. I began to feel happy for them and was even resolved to say hi to him if we ever meet by chance. (Note: I’ve never caught a glimpse of him again, ever since that time that I saw him walking while I was riding a car.) Recently though, said girl confided in my sister that she and my ex-guy are not together anymore. It was specially sad since this girl’s debut was coming up; but then, it was the girl who broke things off with him. I initially felt smug when the girl told me sister something like, “your sister must have also seen something wrong in him”, but when I truly thought about it..I didn’t care.

I didn’t care.

And I realize that I’ve stopped caring a long time ago. Writing this post isn’t about remembering; it’s about my fascination at what I’ve forgotten. I don’t remember a lot of the experiences we had, except maybe some firsts. I don’t recall how chummy we were with each other, even back when we were just friends (although I know my journal will gladly remind me; speaking of which, I came upon said journal over the summer and couldn’t believe a lot of the stuff that was said, or rather, texted/chatted about). It felt somewhat like a dream. This all coming from me, when it took me a whole year to get over a serious crush back when I was in high school. Maybe new experiences just piled up and had to take over the memory space. Maybe memories are somehow like limbs: if you don’t think of them enough times, they gradually disappear or plunge into the unknown. Maybe, maybe.

But even if it ultimately means that I’ll have to forget a lot of things to keep living functionally, I’m glad it happened. Sometimes, memory loss isn’t as bad as it sounds. Rather, sometimes it may just be the tool needed to cut you loose from whatever is holding you back. So even though I’m not like my laptop and can’t store my memories somewhere (of which, no offense, anything but a Pensieve* is inadequate for), this is one of the times I’m glad that I was not born with perfect memory.

*refer to Harry Potter series/movies

Over and out,


Summer Lovin’ and Whatever May Come

Near the end of January last year, I met a person whom I was to become very close to for the next couple of months. We grew to like each other and thought that it would be a wonderful idea to attend summer classes together. Things ended badly but him being my first love, I cannot deny that he’ll always hold a special place in my heart. Afterward, I grew pessimistic about my chances of meeting someone else. Little did I know about the surprises this summer had for me.

Having felt love, I can truly and honestly say that I don’t love this person in that manner (yet?), although I do know that I love him as a friend. We haven’t known each other that long, but seeing and/or talking to one another everyday helped speed up our getting-to-know phase. During our class’ field trip, we started talking to each other (to be honest, I didn’t really pay much attention to him except that he was my group-mate in previous activities) and our classmates started teasing us, calling us the names of a love-team from a famous local movie that was shown during the bus ride. We didn’t mind them and took the teasing in stride for we knew that there wasn’t really anything to be ‘guilty’ of; we just enjoyed each other’s company and enjoyed talking to one another. This was further cemented by the conversation I had with him while he was drunk.

Post-field trip, I found out that he was part of the sports organization whose PE course I was taking (also this summer). This only served to widen our common ground, and I tried to convince him to play with the club’s other members against my PE class. Eventually, we got to texting and chatting on Facebook. We’d chat until the wee hours of the morning, and jokingly blame each other for sleeping too late. Eventually, he asked me out on a date–a legit one, although he apparently planned it to be a friendly one originally. In class, we let our classmates have their fun at teasing us; in private, we just got to know each other better and rarely became cheesy. Over the past couple of days, I admittedly became frustrated of how his ‘online self’ oftentimes does not coincide with his ‘real self’. It’s as if he becomes a different person when there are people around: he keeps his distance and acts as if we were just acquaintances. I’ve thought that I may be reading too much into his ‘detachment’–after all, expectations breed disappointment–and tried consulting a couple of close friends whom I also just made in the same class. Then and there I decided to be Taoist when it came to him and embody wu wei. But then I got drunk.

It was the day of our charity event to a home for the aged (the first of which I’d heard of in the Philippines). Since we finished early, someone proposed that we hang out and drink some; I honestly went along because I wanted to hang out with them and thought there would be karaoke. I wasn’t really into senseless drinking: that is, drinking for the sake of getting drunk. It happened accidentally, of course (’twas my first time. I’m not proud of it but it happened. At least I am more knowledgeable of my limits now.), but I didn’t know I’d be very..uninhibited and..clingy. I don’t know how our classmates called me ‘cute’; maybe because I insisted on sleeping and he insisted on putting my head on his shoulder, saying that he doesn’t want me to trade him for a table. To sum it all up, we were very couple-y. He even took me home, out of a mixture of concern for my well-being and because he likes me (his words, not mine). It still amazes me to this day how I felt so protected as he took me home, and even as he prevented me from going home before I’d sobered up a little. Brought up as a rather independent woman, acting like that and being like that has ever entered my mind. Truly, I think we kind-of ‘floored the gas’ with that experience.

It felt rather awkward for me to approach him after that. I felt that I’d overstepped a boundary too soon, and there were times that I’d overthink about my actions. To maintain some semblance of normality, I’d tease him to other people (I had reason to) and shut up about my apprehensions. It worked a little, even for me. A recently-became-close friend and I talked about it and she said that we’d have to DTR soon. In return, I asked, “is there even a relationship to define?” It was a valid question in my opinion. Everything was going so fast and it felt like we were getting carried away by the waves of support that our classmates were giving. I understood that liking someone is nothing serious in his mind; I also knew it need not be. It wasn’t always easy to believe though, given how he can be really sweet sometimes, not to mention the adorable quirks I’ve come to know he has. I just threw a prayer to God and hoped that if it was going to be our last, we might as well have fun at our date.

It was my first time to casual date, so I was nervous as to how I should behave. Fortunately (or not), we’ve become somehow physically comfortable with each other. Holding hands, having his arm around my shoulders, hugging–it all felt natural. I also felt nervous about running out of topics to talk about, but fortunately, we didn’t. We shared jokes and funny stories, even embarrassing ones from his side. After watching The Great Gatsby, we decided that we had some things to talk about. At this point, saying that I was nervous would be an understatement. All that was going through my mind was, “I know where this is going. It’s his final year, and he’s bound to be more focused on his studies…but I really enjoy his company; I don’t want ‘us’ to end like this.”

Thankfully, he was thinking along the same lines. He acknowledged his priorities and said that he wasn’t looking for a relationship, but may be open to one once he’s graduated. He admitted to not wanting our friendship to end because he also enjoyed having me around. I was going through what I termed ‘guy-withdrawal’ (that is, missing the feeling of being held in someone’s arms and generally being taken care of by a special someone) and agreed to set some boundaries whenever we hung out. He coined a term for our present situation: “MU-friends”. (Later on when I shared this to a guy friend, he told me that it’s similar to what can be known as the ideal MU situation.) We set other rules which I won’t bother to share here; just know that those are rules with which we planned to keep (and prolong, maybe even develop) our current ‘relationship’.

I am no exception when I say that a lot of people fear the unknown. This new ‘relationship’ is uncharted waters for me; and although there is the possibility of discovering hidden treasures, one cannot help but ask if the trip is worth it. But as I said when asked about my philosophy in life,

“Don’t live your life being afraid of doing the wrong things. As Mae West said, ‘To err is human, but it feels divine.'”

Over and out,


We are INFINITE: a trip down memory lane

Guess what? I just finished watching Perks of Being a Wallflower (finally!). I was able to make time while coloring my mom’s hair. Admittedly, I couldn’t remember much of the plot when the movie started–it’s been so long–but it came back to me as the movie progressed. I couldn’t help but cry at the end, not out of pity for Charlie, but because I was so touched by their tunnel moment. It was such a momentous occasion, so significant with everything he went through the past months and symbolic of his living in the present and really enjoying life. Now, I won’t be so phony as to say that I can really identify with Charlie because, thank God, nothing of the sort has happened to me, but the movie made me think about some stuff that my family and I went through. His breakdown/suicide attempt specifically reminded me of my elementary years.

I was never the ideal kid. My grades are ‘decent’ from high school to college and that was okay, I was good; but then when I was in elementary, my grades rocked while my attitude sucked. I wasn’t a Queen B*tch or anything of the sort. I wasn’t well liked, probably because I was quite bossy, fully embracing my officer-ships, and I didn’t really care. Back then, I couldn’t stand hanging out for too long with girls anyway; I just couldn’t figure out why every single thing had to have so much drama. It just made me want to roll my eyes. I was the same with my family, never receptive of their feedback regarding my attitude, always thinking that I could act however I damn well please as long as my grades are alright. We’d yell at each other in the car and I remember feeling smug that they couldn’t match my English responses. But as time passed by, I grew..depressed about being called the black sheep. (There was one time when I called myself that in front of my family, and my *family member* threatened to hurt me if I ever call myself that again. I was like, what, now you hate feeling guilty? You started calling me that.) “You have a heart of stone”, “You’re not capable of feeling” (translated)–those are just some stuff I eventually got used to hearing specially from my *family member*. (I know I was pretty closed off or detached compared to my other siblings. I wasn’t used to telling stories about how my day passed or if something interesting happened, at least not to my family. For many years this proved to be a real issue: how I’m ‘refusing to open up to my family’.) I couldn’t stop the pangs of sadness that would attack out of nowhere whenever I’m alone and I think of the stuff they say to me.

There’s this one particular instance when I was hiding under the dining table. We don’t have separate rooms in our house and I didn’t want them to see me cry so I cried there. I was thinking to myself how it could all go away if I go away. I felt so frustrated, hated, bitter, and unloved that I used what’s left of my nails (I was a nail-biter) to trace a ~2″ line vertically down from the base of my hand. I just repeated it again and again. I ended up scraping the upper layer of cells and reaching the dermis, causing a stinging wound that became a scar. It’s mostly gone, but I don’t think I’d ever forget that moment in my life.

Perks is so inspiring because it’s about getting somewhere beautiful even when you came from a really dark place. If you let other people help you and if you learn to speak up, things can actually take a turn for the better. Like what Chbosky writes, “Even if we don’t have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there.

Over and out,


PS: I just love this exchange:
Sam: “Why do I, and everyone I love, pick people who treat us like we’re nothing?”
Charlie (stolen from Mr. Anderson): “We accept the love we think we deserve.”