The Delight of Being “One of the Boys”

Having a relationship with a man can be emotionally draining for me. I have often struggled with the notion that the presence of a man in my life in a romantic sense isn’t worth it at all if he can’t make me happy. I guess I’m such a dreamer when it comes to love. I’ve been told recently that the kind of love we dream of is increasingly impossible to find especially as one gets older. Sad but true. I can be ok with that though. I resolve I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life than compromise my ideals. But I’ll expound on that next time in another post. Meanwhile, what I want to express here is the kind of pleasure I get in having men as simply “buddies.” Just plain, good ole buddies. Because men are such interesting species despite their frailties and uh, “wickedness.”  I do like men but they can occasionally or often be a “pain in the ass.” Having one as a boyfriend most probably would just give me trouble than pure bliss. So why don’t I just enjoy them as mere pals or chums? I must be a whiz gal to come up with that, right?

I’ve always enjoyed the company of the opposite gender. Sure I’ve had rotten experiences with a few of them in the romance department, but that doesn’t dismay me in continuing to build or nurture friendships with them. They can be really nice and delightful as comrades. It’s always been a pleasure having them around in my life. A lot of laughter and joy has ensued in my life because these particular breed of humans are humorous, fun and breezy to be with. They lack the pettiness that you usually find in female friends. And I like the fact that in contrast to women, men will never tire you of empty verbiage (unless of course the man is gay). They are not that fond too of non-stop talking. Just like me. Yours truly is usually quiet and reserved.

If you truly want to enjoy them as the opposite gender, you have to do away with mushy emotions and deal with them in a direct, casual manner. You don’t need to understand them perfectly well if you just want to be pals with them. They’re very simple to deal with. They can be easy to please. They may get impatient though when they have to conduct themselves in shades of gray, so their choices must be strictly limited to black and white. That is, if you don’t want them to become bona fide pricks. I swear they’ll thank you dearly if you could go straight to the point when you talk to them. Any attempt for a sappy exchange is a waste of time. Likewise, sharing of soulful sentiments can be a herculean task. The downside with having them as friends is the frustration you’ll get by the shallowness of your communication with each other. They can’t be arsed to want to talk about deep feelings, except if they’re in danger of getting dumped in their jobs. In case you don’t know, only one thing can rightfully obsess them.  And that is their job or work.

I guess John Gray got it so right in telling that Men are from Mars, Women from Venus. Men and women seem to have come from different planets indeed. No need to even mention the asteroids and other heavenly bodies that may get in between. 🙂

In my case, I may not fully comprehend their behavior and actions but I pretty much have an idea what goes on in a man’s psyche. I can switch my mode of thinking to their level once I start hanging around or dealing with them. Most men I’ve dealt and transacted with at work have sort of complimented me on how I could be comfortable in their presence. Ehem. I believe I had a lot of practice in my younger years. I wasn’t the flowery, delicate kind of girl then. I raced around, played basketball, climbed trees, participated in other sports, and chased dragonflies with the other boys in the neighborhood. Most of the best friends I had from grade school to university were male. When I was young, my brother and I were the best of pals, which goes to say he became my favorite sibling. And as you may all know by now, my father is my favorite parent as he figures heavily in some of my posts here.

Having them as buddies and having them as lovers are totally distinct. Given my current status, do they sometimes misinterpret my friendliness and harbor the idea I’d be willing to hook up with them? Of course they do. I believe all men welcome those thoughts in the company of their female close friends. But once I’ve managed to enlighten them with the truth subtly, they eventually get the message that their companionship and goodwill are the only things I need from them.

Last year, only three male teachers were left for permanency status in our school (the rest are all female). A gay man in his late 30s, a married man in his mid 30s and a straight guy in his mid- 20s who’s been engaged to his girlfriend for years. So I felt safe when I penetrated my way into their exclusive club to become a fellow camaraderie. You see, I have this ability to be quite friendly if I choose to. It didn’t take long before I totally blended and was considered to be “one of the guys.” For several months, it had been great to be part of the group. Hanging around during break time, having lunch together, shooting the breeze about plenty of matters in our lives. And you can just imagine the things I heard when they talked about women. When I’m with them, I don’t expect them to treat me any differently. I’m older than these male colleagues of mine but delightfully, they tend to forget that when we’re having a conversation or kidding around.

As expected, most good things never last. Alas, late last year the “straight” guy had to quit teaching for the greener pastures of a call center job. It wouldn’t be fun anymore without him so we sort of disbanded. Things couldn’t be the same without our “youngest brother.”

We still keep in touch once in a while and are still friendly toward one another. Yet I’ve come to miss those times every now and then. It’s such a pleasure having men as friends. That much will always be true for me.

Solitude On My Own Terms

Warm on the heels of famous women and their recent breakdowns, Demi  and Heather were the “It” girls of my generation who were both destined to become eternally cute and popular. Having been casualties of humiliating divorces, they’re also now both enduring the ruthless passage of time. Recently pegged as poor little rich women who’ve somehow lost their way, many have slammed them for being spoiled by their wealth and fame that they couldn’t deal with their current mid-life crisis like the rest of us.

How good can people get sometimes at creating a smokescreen that obscures their true feelings and plights?

The inclination of these hapless celebrities to succumb to drugs and alcohol has puzzled me for too long. What really drives them to give in to such pernicious temptations? Has their pain become unbearable, resulting to their inevitable free fall into the abyss that culminated in their self-destruction?

I’m in no position to cast stones at anyone this time as I have a gentle understanding of what these people have gone through. Melodramatic as it may sound, I too know what real pain feels like. The sickening ache that I’m sure can overwhelm even the strongest of hearts. How many times have I skirted on the very edges of despair when this soul of mine felt like crying out loud in the rain?

More than I’m willing to admit, I guess.

I don’t remember ever inviting drama into my life and yet it has come like a cat that has sprung unbidden onto my lap. Then there had been moments when certain kinds of melancholy or some sense of emptiness would creep in like a mysterious stranger in the middle of the night, and the only sensible way out was for me to relearn how to sail through the rough seas.

Growing up and even now that I’m an adult, I’ve always felt like an outcast. Exactly much the same as the eternal wallflower that prides itself on contemplating the paradigms of its existence, while possessing a pleasant awareness of an alternative route to an imagined realm at liberty from all things mundane.

Music, movies, literature, art, nature… They’re the outlines that characterize the wonderful breadth of my solitary world. The best friends I’ve had for so long. Even the stark beauty I find in the heart of loneliness has not shown any signs of fading.

Alone with my thoughts, I could conjure up happiness every now and then, muse on some lonesome episodes from my past, and in all its glory bring back the dead and gone..

Worlds might have come crashing down and prayers remained unanswered. I, who have gone off the deep end in certain unrelenting personal winters of my life, am still determined to tough it out.

As we’ve no choice but to soldier on.

I remember how my father, who had sensed my predicaments in his earlier ailing years, had told me these exact words with a smile, “Even if I want to, I can’t get too worried about you. You’re the true-blooded daughter of mine who can easily discern the correct path and decide on the right thing to do. You’ve always been strong.”

Oh dear father… if you only knew…

Sundry Reflections on this Delightful Blog Universe

I confess to the occasional taking for granted on my part the joy our blog world has been bringing me. But a recent happening that left my heart wistful yet smiling sweetly with gladness.. courtesy of this “virtual land” we inhabit as bloggers has got me pondering  how much our blog universe or whatever you call it has benefited our writing skills and, more importantly, our inner lives in a variety of ways.

My original purpose for setting up this blog; To blog my random thoughts about whatever comes naturally with substantial anonymity. It was my son who opened this account for me, which means I didn’t participate much in the details of its creation. Funny that in my earlier years, I managed to complete courses in Cobol and Dbase programming with flying colors, not to mention even attended various mandatory computer seminars, yet these days I get clueless in the latest technology involving cyber matters. Most often, I’m reduced to simply turning on my netbook hoping nothing ever goes wrong.

There are times when I get tempted to include exquisite, eye-catching photos like what the majority of creative and resourceful bloggers do, but I always end up deciding against it for two main reasons; First, I want only my prose to highlight my entry. Second, searching for the right images might take up too much of my time (read: I’m lazy to do it.). Ditto for links and other blogger paraphernalia. Now you know why this particular abode of mine is totally unadorned.

I get to look at Freshly Pressed blog posts once in a while. Some are good, some are mediocre. I mean, maybe they’re not just my cup of tea. And it got me thinking what it would really feel like if one gets to be featured up there. Honestly, I believe it can be daunting. I don’t think I might want that many readers or followers who would expect the same quality of output in my succeeding entries as a consequence. One case in point, a pretty gifted blogger who’s probably a couple of years older than me got to become so popular in the blogosphere after figuring on Freshly Pressed. I began to get enamored of her site that tells about her colorful yet tumultuous life punctuated by her witty and brilliant sentiments on the truths of life, lost loves, passionate romantic encounters, hopes and dreams, and even her bipolar tendencies. Those were her previous subjects. A selected number of her literature had me going “woo hooo..”  Then her writing gradually changed. Until one day she suddenly bid her followers goodbye giving personal excuses about certain family problems. I sensed that she might have felt overwhelmed by the sudden deluge of readers and felt obligated to write more about urm, wholesome topics. I’m still waiting for her to turn up again one of these days.

Different strokes from talented writers with interesting personalities and dazzling writing styles. Oh you’ve no idea how often I get blown away by these delightful circle of bloggers and their incandescent works in the blogosphere. I tend to get absorbed in their stories and perspectives, reading non-stop until my eyes start bleeding from the glare of my computer monitor, or when the intensity of their tales or convictions makes me want to lie down for a while.

So who needs TV when the world of blogging has much more to offer? Definitely not me. Magnificent blogs continue to bloom around everywhere. What a bonanza for readers and writers alike indeed.

That convinces me we’re all fortunate to have each other here.

Out with the Old, In with the New – What 2012 Holds for Me (part 2)

And so 2011 is closing down as one of my loveliest years ever, a time span I consider both rough and smooth-sailing in most regards.

Once again, I might have earned a few emotional scars from certain heartbreaks, job missteps, and quite recently, a tragic loss I wish would leave my memory for good.

Yet it all comes down to the wonderful reality that I’m still around, hoping that 2012 can now welcome me with open arms..

This was exactly my parting missive on my FB wallpost on New Year’s Eve of last year. I consider it as my closure for the definitive year that has seen me through a series of ups and downs. I felt like there were events I could gladly take with me at the dawn of 2012, e.g., a certain Muse (whatever it is) that crawled its way to my writing has been delightful, as well as the rest of the swell stuff that have made my stay on this planet worthwhile and enjoyable. Yet there are also certain episodes of 2011 I want to get away from as far as I can. Specifically an unspeakable heartache caused by the unexpected loss of a beloved pet and the guilt I’ve felt for not having spent enough time with it before its demise, and all because I was absorbed in something or rather someone that was not even worth my attention. I wonder, how can someone get over an unfortunate circumstance such as this? Others might see me as being too sentimental. I don’t know.. Letting go has always been painful for me. I am really hurting..

I do hope 2012 is going to be another fabulous year as I’ve no plan of slowing down yet. Sometimes though, my body has a way of reminding me that things aren’t the same anymore. Ah aging, I didn’t know it would come so soon.

I often wonder if the gift of years which endowed me with colorful experiences has made me a better person at all. And the more important question, do I know myself much better now after everything I’ve been through? Honestly, I still can’t provide anyone, even myself with a categorical answer.

Just ruminating..

Well, there’s one thing I can say with certainty. I am earnestly shooting for another year of splendor which, they say, will be but a moment in the sun.

We’ll see..