In Love with the Intangibles.

It's officially the last day of 2008, and I end it on an extremely high note:

I've never been so in love with my life.

My ecstatic state has absolutely nothing to do with financial status (especially considering I have a non-existent one), but rather, it's because of the things that money can't buy--blessings. In my case, 2008's overflowing blessings were people. People, people, people.

I am so blessed to be surrounded by such great people at home, at work--everywhere I go.

My family has grown, and it continues to grow. Although I have always considered myself a family person, this year is different. In fact, each year is different, because each year, I am more and more appreciative of how great this bunch of people are.There are no words to express how proud I am to be part of my family.

Not everyone can say that they are lucky enough to like the people they work with. I, on the other hand, can honestly boast that I love the people that I work with. I have made a LOT of great friends this year, and it's just a bonus that I get to see them each and every day.

There are the friends whom I don't see very often. Factors such as physical distance or work have gotten in the way, and all you can really do to keep in touch is chat or exchange emails and scarce text messages. But in the larger scheme of things, who cares? In the end--friends are friends. What I am most thankful for about all my friends is that no matter how long it's been since we've last seen each other, things will always be exactly the same--perfect. Distance shimistance.

I am also thankful for the countless number of people that I met this year. There are those whom I will probably never run into again, and there are those people whose paths I will definitely cross in 2009. I have learned a lot from practically-complete strangers, and I can only hope and pray that the upcoming year will be full of more much-needed wisdom from anyone who's willing to impart it.

And of course, I am extremely thankful for my Mr. Jose Velez. No one gets me better than JV. Period.

So to You, oh Omnipresent, Omniscient, and Omnipotent One: Thank you.

Thank you.

Give Thanks.

Sometimes, people amaze me. And not exactly in a good way.

Lots of things have really gotten on my nerves the past week. In order to get to this point in time, annoying issues kept popping up--on being organized and being top of things, on punctuality, on respect for other people, on responsibility, on planning ahead--the list goes on.

If I were in another mood, I might've called today a success. But too many things ruined it for me.

Because of one thing in particular, I'm not in that happy, "it was a success" mood. and it's not even the fight with ___ over this whole thing. that's another story altogether.

i've been told quite a few times that i'm too nice. they tell me that i do too much--that i tend to do things that stray far, far, far away from my job description. but i don't mind, really. i don't mind going far and wide to do things to help out, especially if i know that the help is really, really needed. sometimes, i'm asked. sometimes, i volunteer. either way, as long as i know i'm able to help out, it's okay with me.

if i'm thanked in the end.

that's it. i just want my hard work and "excessive niceness" to be appreciated. if i do pretty much everything, there's nothing wrong with thinking that a proper thank you would be in order, right?

it doesn't have to be a monetary thank you. it just has to be a form of acknowledgement for the all the effort and time spent on doing things that other people should have been doing. any form of acknowledgement. i accept slaps on the back. i welcome high fives. i accept anything that expresses the slightest hint of gratitude.

but no.

i waited for it to come in any form. and it didn't happen.

at the end of the day, there is no big hug from you to thank me. there is no nod of thanks headed in my direction as i leave the venue. in fact, i don't even think there is a goodbye. there is no email of appreciation. heck, there isn't even a text message.

so what was there? there must've been something.

ah, yes. i do remember a comment from you about not being able to eat any doughnuts, and that there were none left. oh, and another one about only having one copy of the magazine when you should have been able to take more home.

has this excessive niceness and sense of volunteerism become part of my job description without me knowing it? have i become so much of a pushover that this stuff is expected of me already?

.

i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this.i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this.i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this.i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this.i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this.i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this.i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this. i HATE this.

Lullaby.

It was a lullaby my mom made up when we were little.

Lately, I've been hearing my sister and mom sing it to Nico as they rock him to sleep.

I don't know what it is about their humming, but part of me gets all weepy when I hear it. It makes me feel so secure.

The other night, Nico had been crying endlessly for what seemed to be a veeeeeeeeery long time. My sister started to sing it to him, and honestly, I don't remember how much longer he cried after that. I fell asleep.

Irked.

Before I begin writing this angsty post, I'd like to admit that yes, I am a selfish person.

But my selfishness has to do with me. In most cases, my selfishness affects only myself (and fine, maybe JV).

I like to think that my selfish actions have very little effect on the events of the real world and on the lives of other people.

I like to think that my selfishness has to do with the little things in life--like what I want to do (or what I don't want to do) today, or what food I want to eat, or where I want to go for vacation... is there anything wrong with that?

Unfortunately, there will always be the annoying, extremely selfish kind of people in the world. What's even more unfortunate, is that these are the kind of people that I can't seem to get away from--and having to deal with them is mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausting me completely.

The sad truth is that in reality, there exists the kind of people who don't give a rat's ass about others.

There exists the kind of people who don't give a sh*t about the effects that their words, actions, and decisions may have on others.

There exists the kind of people who roleplay all day--the people who act so sweet and helpful and innocent, but who are, in reality, just not. Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin.

These are the kind of people who think that others will just accept them for who they are--naturally pretentious, uncaring creatures--and that they will be liked and respected just the same.

These are the kind of people who act this way because they think that it's okay to act this way. They think that they can get away with it.

Sadly, in most cases, they do get away with it. And because they do, they continue being who they are.

Unfortunately for me, these people seem to be everywhere. They seem to be in every aspect of my life. There's no getting away from them. No matter where I go, no matter what I do, there they are.

The Verdict Is...

... I'm tired :(

My Hump. My Hump, My Hump, My Hump.

Wednesday is usually coined as hump day because it's smack in the middle of the work week. Basically, the logic behind hump day is that once you get past it, the rest of the week goes downhill from there. You make it through Wednesday, and you've gone over the hump.

Ah, what a hump there was in store for me today.

No matter how great you want to be at what you do, no matter how much you try to avoid making mistakes--it's inevitable. No one's perfect. You can't possibly do everything right all the time, right?

Fine, I can't be perfect. But shouldn't I be able to take my mistakes lightly?

Shouldn't I, at the very, very least, be able to hold back the tears when I make mistakes? Do I really have to look like a complete cry baby every single time I face one of those humps, no matter how completely small and insignificant they may be? Do I really need to be all red-faced and embarrassed every single time I do something wrong? Do I really need to show the world how irritatingly weak I really am?

I knew the hump would come up on today's road--I really did. Last night, I had a premonition of today's little bump. I tried to prepare. I brought my A-game. I watched the road carefully. I brought my maps. I checked the weather forecast. I wore my seatbelt. Heck, I even hung a rosary on the rearview mirror.

In fact, I got so close to making it to the finish line alive. I was so proud of myself for a job well done. But no. I didn't quite make it.

It's too late. My fear of hitting humps has gotten out of hand. My preparation will never be enough. :(

Ang Gusto Kong Love.

I'm determined to post something today (in order to make it official that I'm back to blogging and that this isn't just another one-post blog!), but my mind is completely blank.

Instead, I'll paste something that isn't mine. Here's something a friend of mine (hi Vince!) shared with me a few weeks back which really, really made my day. Yes, it seems long, but trust me--it's worth the read!

--sinulat ni siege malvar noong 2006--

ang gusto kong love
yung masarap magbigay ng back rub
yung hindi mahihiyang makipaghalikan sa taxicab
yun, yun ang masarap na love.

ang gusto kong love
yung tipong pipigilan ka mag-yosi
di ka papayagang mag-sindi
kaya matututo kang maglumlum ng candy
kasi nga, bawal na sa'yo magyosi

allergic daw siya sa yosi
tapos magmomonologue ng:

“magyoyosi ka na naman? kakayosi mo lang, ah.
nagyosi ka na nga bago kumain
magyoyosi ka pa pagkatapos kumain.
pang-apat na stick mo na yan
akala ko ba sabi mo di ka na magyoyosi?
di mo ata ako love, eh.”

pero actually
lahat ng tao sa bahay nila, adik sa yosi
nanay niya, tatay niya, mga kuya niya
allergy-allergy
meron bang allergy sa yosi?
alam niyo yun, yung tipong
gusto niya lang masabi ng mga tao na
“o kita niyo, napasunod niya yung boyfriend niya”
yung tipong ganun ka-controlling
yun. yun ang tipo kong love
medyo controlling.

ang gusto kong love
yung hindi mahihiyang magpalibre
kahit compared sa'yo, yung allowance niya doble
yung pag manonood kayo ng sine
hinding-hindi maglalabas ng wallet
hihintayin kang magbayad para sa ticket
kaya kahit para sa bulsa mo masakit
iisipin mo nalang

“ayos lang, love ko naman
pero sana,
siya naman gumastos paminsan-minsan.”

yung tipong ganun na love
kasi feeling ko, pag nahihiya siya gastusin ang pera mo
nahihiya rin siyang tanggapin ang love mo
yun. yun ang tipo kong love.
medyo magastos.

ang gusto kong love
yung tipong pagkasama niyo ang barkada mo
biglang makikipagkwentuhan sa'yo tunkol
sa mga topics na hindi naman alam ng barkada mo
para lang ma-alienate ang barkada mo
and just to show it to them na
meron na kayong sariling mundo
yung tipong biglang makikipagkwentuhan sa'yo
tungkol sa plans niyo na mag-out-of-town this summer
o kaya tungkol dun sa movie date niyo
na as usual ay ikaw ang nagbayad
so hindi tuloy makakasabay yung mga barkada mo sa usapan
dahil kayong dalawa lang ang nagkakaintindihan
kaya susubukan mong ibahin ang topic
pero ibabalik niya dun sa plano niyong
pumunta ng Subic
o kaya bigla niyang maiisipan na i-update ka
tungkol sa buhay-buhay ng mga friends niya
kaya yung mga friends mo, naka-tanga
kasi kayong dalawa lang ang tawa ng tawa
yun. yun ang tipo kong love.
medyo elitista.

ang gusto kong love
yung mumurahin ka sa text pag hindi ka nakapagreply
kasalanan mo bang maubusan ng load
sa gitna ng immersion niyo sa Sitio Payonggayong
sa gitna ng Mindoro Occidental?

(tunog ng text: tutututut-tututut)

“Hi, LOVE. WHAT R U DOING?”

(tunog ng text)

“HEY, BAKIT DI KA REPLY. SAD FACE.”

(tunog ng text)

“HMPH. BUSY KA ATA. SIGE GUDNAYT NA.”

(tunog ng text)

“P########MO HAY## KA. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE
YOU. OK FINE, WAG KA MAGREPLY. NAGSESEX KAYO NO? NAGSESEX KAYO NO? P### KA. G#G#!”

(tunog ng text)

“Hoy. Sorry na. Ikaw kasi eh. Di ka nagrereply. Sorry po.
Mwah.”

yung tipong ganun
yung tipong kaya naimbento ang Sun Cellular
para sa ganung klase ng love
yung tipong ganun na love
yun. yun ang tipo kong love.
medyo demanding.

ang gusto kong love.

ang gusto kong love yung pag nasa simbahan kayo
sa gitna ng misa
uutusan kang mag-flex ng bicep mo
tapos pagpapraktisan ng suntok niya
palakas ng palakas, tapos magtatanong pa

“masakit ba?”

ikaw naman, parang tanga

“hindi, sige, lakasan mo pa.”

pero sa totoo lang, naiiyak ka na
kasi mga muscles mo namamaga na
hanggang bukas, braso mo manhid pa
yun. yun ang tipo kong love.
medyo mahilig sa boxing.

ang tipo kong love
yung makikipag-agawan pa para sa last piece of pizza
yung kinikilig pag ika’y kumakanta
yung ang tawag sa mommy mo, “tita”
yung memorized ang schedule mo every semester
yung alam kahit na plate number ng kotse ng kuya mong Wheelers International Member
yung makikiprint ng thesis niya
tungkol sa POSTMODERN THEORIES ON THE TRI-MEDIA
kasi nanghihinayang daw siya
baka daw maubos ang ink nila
yung tatanungin ka kung sino ang mas gusto mo ma-i-kama
siya ba o si Jen Rosendhal ba?
tapos maiinis pag sumagot ka
naman, si Jen yun eh. ano naman ineexpect niya?

ang gusto kong love?
yung sa akin lang siya in-love.

...and "The Moment I Wenk Up" was born.

So this is it. My first post in yet another blog.

Since the closing down of thelifeofawenk over a year ago, I've attempted many times to create a new blog--but too many blogs were made, and too many passwords were forgotten.

And here I am once again--starting over. But deep inside, I know that this is it. There will be no more beginnings.

Over the years, I've realized that I am the type of person who can't write just anywhere (and I also can't write about just anything). When I write, I need to have the right frame of mind. I need to be using the right pen. I need to be writing on the right notebook.

So, determined to create the blog, believe me when I tell you that a lot of thought went into creating this particular one.

But before I formally open The Moment I Wenk Up, I would like to acknowledge the help of my dear (and strange) friend Brian, who, in an extremely IQ-lowering YM conversation, helped me come up with the blog URLs that didn't quite make it:

lifeaccordingtowenk

thechroniclesofawenk

iamwenk

wenksidestory

wenkmeupbeforeyougogo

wenkyourehappyandyouknowit

wenkyouwishuponastar

... and now that you've seen the rejects...

let's begin.