Wednesday, February 16, 2005
A LASTING IMPRESSION
I find myself dazed with delight, as I see the notification that I’ve received mail from her... I look back and think about the movie "you've got mail", however, on this particular situation; I know whose it from, will my story end the way the movie does, I wonder? The song "Dreams" of the Cranberries comes to mind, it played at the beginning of the movie...
Has it been three months since I saw her profile? With the times, you can't ignore meeting people via the net... And with the recent addition of friendster or the like into our daily lives it would seem inevitable. As I have said to some of my friends; friendster is fast becoming a resume for meeting and finding people. People of various kinds; from worst to worthy of one's attention.
To put it simply, I was captivated by her beauty. I was with a friend one late December night, browsing on friendster at my home and that's when she caught my attention out of all the small pictures we viewed from our mutual friends' list. And as my friend and I clicked on her profile and viewed more of her pictures, I was smitten by her beauty and clicked on the button to add her as a friend, hoping and praying that she'd approve of my request, and soon after she did.
I love dabbling on my pc and a few nights later, I was thinking about her photos, and without her permission, I downloaded them from her profile and made a little art portrait of her combined pictures, it took me awhile to finish and be satisfied with the work that I’ve done.
After finishing the "art" I anxiously sent her an email with the combined pictures attached.
She replied soon enough with gratitude, a good sign I thought, I opened the response email and read it. I gathered from the reply that she was friendly and appreciative of what I did and didn't take offense of me; downloading her pictures without consent.
Thus, our short quaint communication began. On one eventful occasion, she entrusted me enough to ask for a favor, and with enthusiasm, I accepted. Quickly I got to work, my educated mind instructs me of what task to perform first, I did research and developed a basis for my output. I finished the task in record time and as promised, she received the written article the next day. I got to know her more as I performed this task and unbeknownst to my articulate mind, began appreciating her all the more. The favor was a eulogy for her.
The response I received from her after viewing the article was overwhelming, I felt my cheeks blush, and probably made a giddy smile, as I read and reread her gratifying message.
Our sending emails to each other aren't regular, which is fine though. After all, we both have lives and responsibilities to live and fulfill besides the internet. There’s no pressure there. An email from her is a present all in its own. And for now, I indulge myself on unraveling who the person she is.
And so, I open the mail she recently sent me, my fingers anxiously taps the desk as I wait for the window to load. As it opens I notice I lean closer towards the monitor and read her message with my mouth saying silently the words she wrote. I reread it again finding undeniable pleasure as I do so. These are her words and thoughts, my mind says, and I can only imagine how her voice would sound. She has a singing voice, I read from several of her testimonials that she sings wonderfully, and then I feel envy, envy from the people who have heard her sung.
Let me sigh on that thought and take note of this message she sent; she’s sweet and affectionate evoking words that would seem reserved for close friends. And I feel proud that she said those openly, knowing that I wouldn’t take malice from it. I wonder how she could be when she’s in a relationship, that guy would be some lucky bastard, -oops, pardon my French, that guy would be ever so lucky, rather.
Without a doubt, I know what I’m feeling for her is attraction and infatuation, and quite possibly, in the future even more? I love the fact that even if she’s busy, she takes the time to send an email or private message in friendster and on occasion both. Even now, as I type my feelings for her, her countenance vividly comes to mind; the dew ness of her skin, her lovely smile, playful eyes, silky black hair…
I long to converse with her and see if chemistry is present and if not, let me settle as a friend to be counted upon, because clearly, I want to be a part of her daily life. But what if there is chemistry? Years of experience has taught me not to anticipate that further, keep your whims simple, my mind invokes. I know what I want to happen and I’ll take the necessary steps to get there but, not be so arrogant to accept that everything will go according to my plans and be pathetic to push myself to her when clearly, there aren’t any mutual feelings.
For now, I relish on these new found emotions and I look forward to my next conversation with her, whether it may be through email or recently, through the “ym” or possibly, some time in the future, the phone or in person.
I feel pleasantly delighted, as I have once again succeeded in letting my thoughts known of someone I care for through my passion, and for, finding myself admitting that she may very well be the cause for this passion to burn intensely. She’s a beacon of light of warmth and goodness to my driven soul.
posted by vinz @ 12:08 PM
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Monday, February 14, 2005
A December Date
He takes a deep breath and enters the crowded fine-dining restaurant; all eyes were on him as he entered. It was probably due to the attire he was wearing, denim pants, suede khaki shoes, a black dinner coat and a light olive colored polo –perfectly complementing his tan skin.
He stands there for a few seconds as the people divert their attention to continue on their conversations. He couldn’t deny the fact that he loved the attention and the approving look the people gave him.
He follows his companion towards the bar and cashier of the establishment, his friend’s clan runs the business. They conversed with the management and they asked him how he’d want it all to be set, his date will be arriving in an hour and a half, they let him choose a table and they said they’d prepare it for him as soon as the customers at that particular table left, which was pretty soon. The two friends left the establishment to find a florist; an hour later they went back dismayed not to find any open at that hour.
He reassures his companion that it’s alright. “What I have for her is more than enough.” he said, he then mentally notes the gist of a speech he wants to deliver to the woman who has been constantly a fount of inspiration for him these past 8 months.
During the course of the hour she sent him a SMS message informing that she’ll be having a chaperon because she didn’t know where the restaurant was, it was fine, he anticipated that and replied to her that it was alright.
The minutes dragged on, and he immersed himself to the conversation he was having with the management at the restaurant, his back was from the entrance and he was on the platform of the establishment, -where the bar was, he hears his cell phone ring, he turns around and at the midst of the people leaving the establishment, he sees her standing and beaming at him, she was wearing a white laced blouse with a 2/3 sleeve that ruffles at the end, a mini skirt that was checkered with the colors grey, black and white, she was wearing accoutrements of silver, her attire complemented every curve on her body and the waiters looked from her to him with an approving stare. And oh yeah, she was accompanied by her chaperon.
He eased down the stairs and accompanied her to the table he had the management prepare. They got their food from the buffet, sadly, it was all he could afford, his car was in the shop and the money he saved was used to fix it, and the food wasn’t at all that plenty, he didn’t anticipate that, apparently the establishment were closing in an hour, even though, he brushed aside his worries and told himself that spending time with her is all that is important.
As they sat down, he gave her present in a bag, the bag looked like a “gift paper bag” the one’s usually bought at National Bookstore, instead of it being paper though, it was plastic and reusable, he intended that, and the color was of blue and khaki and had a lovely earthy design. Her face lit up and she anxiously said she wanted to see what’s inside, and she did open the bag.
Inside, the bag was full of crumpled red Japanese paper, red is her favorite color, wrapped at the top of the sheet of Japanese paper was the cd he told her previously he was giving her, it was a soundtrack flash presentation, he used three songs, including the one he wrote for her, in the cd, when viewed at the pc; one of the songs is played per scene, coupled with a message for her and some pictures of her is presented or seen, a small dedication and a confession of how he feels towards her, the last song played was written by him for her, quaintly titled as her song. The cd was encased on a clear casing and had red stationery paper on its cover, with her name written boldly on it.
She was admiring the cd when he said to her to reach inside because there’s one more. She was pleasantly surprised and she pulled out another cd, this time it was an audio cd, -which too, was encased the same way as the flash cd, the three songs he used in the flash presentation was there and several hard to find jazz songs that suited his feelings for her, and a few mixes that his other friend made especially for this occasion. He enjoyed watching her admire his gifts and then, he said to reach in again.
Her eyes got a bit wider, surprise-surprise, and as she reached in for the third time in the bag, and from it, she found wrapped in red Japanese paper a pocket book, she reached in again to make sure there weren’t any in the bag, he anticipated that too. He grinned at her as she does this.
The uncovered pocket book’s cover was wrapped with clear plastic; the book, which was his favorite, was the sequel to his other favorite novel, which recently turned into a movie, and they watched that movie a few months ago. The name of the book he gave her was “The Wedding” by Nicholas Sparks.
He still has the tickets, and plans if ever they become a couple, had it framed and present it to her on their anniversary a few years into the future.
“Open the cover,” he said in almost a whisper, she turns the cover and sees a red stationery paper, the same size of the cover, glued to the back of it, on it is a small dedication he wrote for her: to someone who means a lot to me, enjoy reading my favorite book, was what it said. It was written with silver ink.
A tear trickles down from her eyes.
He ignores what just happened, he feared he might join her on that and he didn’t want to, he’d feel awkward and so, he hurriedly said to look at the bookmarker.
There were two laminated bookmarkers, he used the same red stationery paper and used a silver stationery paper as a frame for the red, at the back of one of the laminated bookmarkers were rose petals, a blessing happened when he laminated that particular bookmarker, an outline of a rose was made at the front of the bookmarker when he had it done. Written on the two bookmarkers was the poem he wrote for her a few months back. The poem was short but, the prime numbers of the stanzas of the poem except for the last one (which was a nine) and the first letter of the second words, if you’d follow all that, you’d notice her name being spelled. Of course he had those letters enlarged and capitalized so that when it was read it was visible to anyone. A poem is an intricate message and every word has its meaning, place and purpose.
He calmly said, “There’s more to the book,” and he continued after a pause, “Flip it.”
She flips the book and she whiffs an aroma of his perfume mingled with the scent of roses. He had rose petals, -white and red, dry on some of the pages of the book and after it was dried, sprayed his perfume on them. The rose petals were spread on the pages of the book. He intended that, so that when she reads the book, she’d be reminded of him.
He didn’t tell her that he wrote something at the last page of the story of the book; the message was the gist of what he thought off of the book and in a sense another confession of what he strongly feels for her.
After the unveiling of his gifts he rattled on what he felt for her all these months and how she truly means to him. He finally professed personally to her but all seemed meant not to be.
The evening went by with small talk, gratitude towards each other and warm smiles, he regretted one thing that night that he didn’t do though. He wanted to hug her as they bid good bye, but he didn’t, a fear of awkwardness could’ve been the reason? Or was it the fear of shedding tears to have finally said what he felt for her, her touch; would be catalyst for him to come to the brink of tears.
A few days later, his intuition tells him something was wrong, and true to his unfathomable talent, he was right. She has a boy friend; apparently he was too late in professing his feelings. He took his time and he didn’t make himself more of a presence in her life. Are these the real reasons to his demise? Or could it be that she wasn’t attracted to him in that way? Who knows? He’s gone now, millions of leagues away from her, pursuing a future he set for himself several years ago, time and fate can only tell if their paths will cross again and, if a spark will ignite and become an unconditional flame in their hearts, time and fate can only tell.
posted by vinz @ 1:55 PM
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Friday, February 11, 2005
Food For Thought
I make guys jealous and I relish the fact because, it makes them realize how special my friends are; true women of beauty.
Let me sum up the occasional things that happen when men discover that I interact with them: my cell number being deleted from their cell phones unbeknownst to them, (tsk, tsk, guys, that’s so low) fortunately, I keep in touch with them on a regular basis and my friends don’t take me for granted, without the men’s knowledge and so that arguments are averted, they change my name in their cell to a lady’s. Another restriction they set was not seeing each other again, little do they know that I accompany them shop, have coffee, watch a movie etc.
Why do some boyfriends do not trust their girlfriends? Is it the fear of replacing them from their hearts that easy? Or is it they know they’d take that opportunity if they were presented with someone they thought was better than my pal? Why the hell did you fall for them in the first place, if you knew that they’d replace you the first chance they’d get? Apparently, who she is isn’t the reason you fell for her. Or is it simply you’re insecurities? Insecurities? THAT’S NOT A BLOODY EXCUSE! And you call yourself a man, go home and whine to your MAMMA.
They say I am a romantic and I AM. I know enough to make a lady feel special, and I have ways of telling the women I’m in love with, especially, when I’m in a relationship with her, little things of saying I love you. It could be handing her a warm towel after taking a bath, it could be the small notes of how special she is to me that she finds from her pocket or her hand bag. The little things matter people. I know enough on how to make a simple gift turn into something worth taking pride of, the little details matter, gentlemen. Let me give you an example, you’ve bought the gift you wanted to give her, how do you present her the gift? You have it wrap at national bookstore, right? WRONG! You think of something that is worth telling how the gift was presented. AND NO, I won’t give into any details regarding that matter; I do not need to prove myself to you blokes. READ MY NOVEL, when I’ve finished writing it, if you insist then.
Being sweet and saying the right things flow from my lips naturally, nothing cheesy nor cliché, I am after all a writer; creative and articulate. I may do things without consent and often have gone out of my way to assist my friends, my intentions aren’t to woo them, rather, my reasons are selfish, I love the feeling of helping people, who I love and care for, and I got that trait from my first love, she has moved me to better myself, even after, we’ve broke up.
How many incidents has it been? I’ve been the mastermind or the devious puppeteer to have made my friends’ love interests admit their ardent feelings. I can recount the occurrences to more than several.
I make men jealous and I love that fact. I may not have bodies or as good as looks as theirs, -AT TIMES, but, I do have my deviant wit about me and not everyone is a true romantic.
posted by vinz @ 12:55 PM
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Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Recent Meanderings
Time flies, it’s been a month since I got here. The exposure and the dawning of how important affection is still linger in my mind. That probably is the greatest lesson I was taught last year. A friend of mine taught me that, coupled with his family and relatives, the time I spent with them will be one of the highlights I experienced the previous year. Openness to feelings deep within, no shyness, and no awkwardness was felt, it was enlightening for me.
I remember that night when I shared with his cousins my past experiences regarding how I was in a relationship, tears were evoked as I related it to them in a fashion of mixed true romanticism and poetry. For I can honestly say that I am, a romantic and a poet without being conceited, close friends can vouch for that. Tears were also shed when I narrated to them in detail my previous heart break, I had it coming though. And I think what happened is for the better. Who knows? Maybe in the future, there might be a chance for us, although, with the recent events, I think it may all be unlikely, I still haven’t received any word from her. My feelings for her will always be there and no one can contradict me on that matter.
I’ve started working; it’s a blessing for me to land upon this job although, I still need time to get use to the work schedule. The company I’m currently affiliated in is NESMA Internet, my work is in the management division, my bosses are still discussing what my line of work is though but they had me learn the procedures of their P.O. (Purchasing Order). The salary and benefits aren’t bad for someone who hasn’t any real work experience at the office environment. I can finally help my parents financially and not be a burden to them, not that they think me of such however, I do. My parents are positioning me into a financially secure future, so that, when the time comes of raising a family of my own, I wouldn’t have a hard time. God willing, the plans that have been set into motion and two to four years from now, everything would place themselves accordingly. My parents have worked a lifetime to secure our future and my brothers and I intend to have them live a life of luxury a few years from now.
I can’t help but feel that I’m letting some of my friends down; I’m too far away to lend a helping hand emotionally and physically. I feel chatting via YM or sending emails to my friends in need isn’t enough. Having your presence felt makes all the difference. I miss the lunches I take with some of my friends who’re still in college, or having coffee at our usual hang-outs, accompanying my friends shop for clothes, watching movies at the big screen after which having dinner at a quaint place I recently discovered, watching the sun set with pastries and coke to munch and quench our thirst upon. I miss the late night conversations that continue to the wee hours of the morning. Change is truly inevitable, although, in time I hope I get the opportunity to experience all that again.
posted by vinz @ 2:54 AM
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