I FEEL LONELY

I'm all alone in our apartment. Everybody's out and I'm the only one left. I had a tiring day. I'm getting tired of my job, but I have to keep at it because I have to bring home the bacon, so to speak.

I know that I am loved by family and friends. A friend of mine just recently declared that she considers me her best friend. I do, too. I love her a lot and I consider her a blessing. I share a very close and loving relationship with my brother and my sister who both live with me. They both love me, I know that for sure. Plus, I have a lot of friends, near and far, who never fail to show their love and support. On the surface, there shouldn't be any reason for me to feel lonely. But there's a gnawing feeling of emptiness that I have to deal with every day.

I made a heart-wrenching decision recently and I have no regrets although it was very difficult for me to make that decision. I'm healing now and I know that it's just a matter of time before I can honestly say that I'm over my ex-love. I don't cry anymore although I still long for this person sometimes. I just miss the company and the friendship we once shared.

I miss having somebody to love. I think this is why I feel very lonely. Sure I have a lot of friends and my family is always here for me. But I cannot relate with them with the same depth as I would a sweetheart. I remember reading a book by Tony Robbins and coming across a passage that says, "Loneliness is a signal that you need to connect with someone at a certain level." How true.

I don't want to enter into a relationship for the wrong reasons. I don't want to be a "user" or an emotional parasite. I know it's not the right time for me to be with someone because I'm still recovering from my recent heartbreak. Oh, but my heart yearns to love again!

Random Thoughts...Again...

There's too much noise inside my head. I don't know what's happening to me. I cannot keep still. I've been fidgeting. I think I'm bipolar. For these past three days, I have been restless. It's as if I have a sudden burst of energy. I haven't slept very well. However, tonight, I feel a bit depressed, although I still feel restless. Gosh, I can't keep still!

I miss a friend very, very much, although the last time I saw her was just the other day. I had some snacks with her children and her husband at a coffee shop. I don't know why I want to see her. Gosh, I'm having strange thoughts and feelings! I am so ashamed of myself.

I scare myself sometimes. There are days when I can become very impulsive. I cannot help it. It's hard for me to write but I am forcing myself. My thoughts are scattered everywhere.

I feel like crying. I don't even know why. I can't find any reason to cry. Am I going crazy? And why do I think of death sometimes? I don't want to die yet, but why does the thought sneak into my consciousness? I'm scared.

Fantasie Impromptu by Chopin

One of my Lola Lily's favorite pianists, Evgeny Kissin, playing one of her favorite pieces.

The Warsaw Concerto by Addinsel

This piece never fails to stir my emotions. I'm proud to say that my late grandmother, Lola Lily, was the first pianist to play this piece publicly in the Philippines during her recital at the Assumption Conservatory of Music.

La Fille Aux Cheveux de Lin by Debussy

One of the best renditions of this piece with Jascha Heifetz on the violin.

DESIRE

Your touch

ignites

an unseen flame

that burns

every inch of me

with this sweet agony.

My Childhood

I was the first grandchild of my mother's parents. Needless to say, everyone was excited when I came out of my mother's womb. Everyone's attention was on me. My mother's brothers and sisters took turns in taking care of me. As a little kid, I was a spoiled brat. One of my uncles even bought me a shirt that had "SPOILED ROTTEN" printed on it in big bold letters. As a baby, and as a toddler, I was very demanding. I used to cry about almost everything. I drove everyone crazy with my frequent temper tantrums. Needless to say, I was the queen of the house! I could not be separated from Lola Lily, my maternal grandmother. Once, when I was taking a nap, my Lola sneaked out to watch a movie with my Lolo Charlie. When I woke up and found that she was not beside me, I let out a wail that, according to my Tito Edward, sounded like a siren blast. One of my uncles had to go to the movie house to get my Lola because I wouldn't stop crying, and they could not stand my bawling.

My Tita Carmen was the most important person to me when I was a little kid. She was fourteen when I was born. I love her as much as I love my Mom. She is my second mother. She took care of me from the time I was born until I was seven. I used to sleep beside her almost every night. She would comfort me whenever my Mom and Dad fought, and would defend me whenever my uncles tormented me with their relentless and merciless teasing. She would feed me and bathe me. I always looked forward to her coming home from school because I knew that she would always have a treat for me. When I turned eight, she gave me the best birthday party I've ever had: I had my first birthday cake in seven years! I was depressed for weeks when she left for the States; I was only nine years old then. I would often cry secretly. We have always loved each other. I know that I will always have a special place in her heart, just as she has in mine too.

I had my first sibling when I was four. When my brother Fred was born, I was so excited! I wanted to see what came out of my mother's ponderous belly (We all came out of her belly, via caesarean section). The first time I saw him, I loved him instantly. I did not want to leave the hospital. I wanted to stay with Fred, but my uncles wouldn't let me. They had to drag me out of the hospital and into the car. I screamed my lungs out. Everyone who saw and heard me cry must have thought that I was being kidnapped! Three years later, my sister Clarisse was born. She was the answer to my prayer. As I have often told her, she is the fulfillment of my childhood wish. I prayed hard and wished for a sister. Before she was born, I already knew without a doubt that I would be having a baby sister; my mother did not even have an ultrasound. My family has always been the greatest love of my life and will always be.

I learned how to read at four. My romance with the printed word began when Tito Edward, my favorite uncle, bought story books for me to read. Since then, even as a pre-school child and until now, my favorite haunt has always been National Bookstore. I used to go there very often with my aunts and uncles; we frequented the branch at the Harrison Plaza. Ever since I learned how to read, I have never let a day pass without reading -- I thrive on it and I cannot imagine life without it. My Lolo Charlie encouraged me to read encyclopediae, classical novels, and inspirational books. He also encouraged me to write. He would constantly tell me that I had the makings of a good writer. When I was in fifth grade, I wrote a short story about the legend of the coconut but then, I threw the paper in the trash. Lolo found it while he was salvaging reusable items(he was a pack rat) from the garbage heap in our backyard. I can still remember the excitement in his voice when he told me that he had read my composition. "This is good! You should be a writer, Baby Doll!" I have always believed him; he was an excellent writer himself. He was a high school valedictorian at the Ateneo de Manila High School, and his English teacher's pet. His grammar was impeccable, and he could easily sweep women off their feet with his honeyed words. I think I inherited my love for words from him. How I miss my Lolo Charlie...

As a child, I preferred to listen than to speak. I was not the loquacious type, and I seldom sought attention. I listened to adult conversations, deciphering the meaning behind the words my elders were saying. When I couldn't make sense of anything, I would ask questions. Sometimes, the grown ups would willingly answer my queries. However, most of the time, I would either be told off or ignored. I had to wait for myself to grow up so I could participate in their conversations.

I was a loner. Although I had playmates, I preferred to play alone. In group games, nobody wanted me to be in their team because I was a weakling; I was thin and puny. I could not run fast. Sometimes, they would let me be the "salimpusa". I felt like an outcast, so I would quietly walk away from my playmates and play my own games. I would make-believe that I was a scientist. I concocted a superhero formula by mixing all the household chemicals that I could find such as mercurochrome, napthalene balls, acetone, etc. I idolized Superman and wished that I could be just like him. Fortunately, I never dared to drink any of my superhero potions. When I was sent to the province, I would climb sandhills and pretend that I was a treasure hunter. I would pick up stones with interesting shapes and colors and these would be my "loot". At the end of the day, my pockets would be heavy with stones and seeds of different plants.

I was fascinated by growing things, and quite easily, gardening became one of my favorite hobbies. My grand uncle used to own a store that sold animal feeds; I would steal some chicken feed and bird seeds and plant them in my garden. My Lola designated a small plot in her vegetable garden for my motley crop. There would be some corn plants on one part of the plot. Then, between the rows of corn, there would be some green peas and mongo. I tried planting some oats and barley, but they never grew. Then I also began planting fruit trees. I even planted a mango tree that still stands to this day.

My Lola Lily was an accomplished concert pianist. She studied music at the St. Scholastica's College Conservatory of Music, but graduated in Assumption. Her recital was covered in the major broadsheets during her time. Critics said that her performance was perfect in everything. Whenever she caressed the piano keys, she mesmerized everyone, including me, with her music. Sometimes, the music made me cry. As a baby, I was already sensitive to beauty. I would weep quietly whenever she played the "Moonlight Sonata" by Beethoven. I used to call it "Kalungkot" (sad). I have never heard any other pianist play the "Moonlight Sonata" more expressively and more beautifully than my Lola did; they do not even come close. When I was eight, my Lola decided it was time for me to learn the family craft: making music. I eagerly took my piano lessons from her, and within a year, I was ready for a grand recital. I played "Fuer Elise" by Beethoven when I was barely nine years old. I was advanced for my age. I also learned pieces by Mozart and Chopin. Chopin was (and still is) my favorite composer. Music claimed my heart, and my time. My friends became fewer because I preferred to commune with the muses than play with kids my age. When my Lola went to the States, I did not have a piano teacher anymore, but that did not stop me from practicing. I spent four to six hours a day at the piano. I wanted to be a concert pianist, but my dream ended when my Tita Pita, who was then studying music at the St. Scholastica's College Conservatory, had the piano sent to Manila. I could not practice my piano pieces anymore. Soon, I forgot about my fondest dream. However, I never lost my passion for Music. I discovered that an angel lent me her voice...I sang whenever I was happy, but more so when I was sad. Nobody in our family knew I could sing until I turned seventeen. (I have sung in many public affairs since then. I even passed the Ateneo College Glee Club audition. Sadly, my voice has deteriorated.)I also learned how to play the guitar on my own, and the flute with a little help from my paternal grandfather, Lolo Benny. Like books, music is something that I find almost impossible to live without.

I think I grew up too soon. My childhood came to an abrupt halt when my parents separated. I was only eight years old then. Being the eldest in a fatherless family, I had to be the mother-figure to my siblings while my mother had to earn a living for all of us. Since then until I was in second year high school, I would make sure that my brother and my sister ate their meals. I taught both of them how to read. I attended their PTA meetings. I pinned their medals and ribbons on their recognition days.

I was a precocious child. I opened my first bank account when I was eight. Back then, a rural bankn in our province had a savings program for school age children. Even then, I knew the value of saving. I would fill out and sign the deposit slip with my grade school handwriting; the bank tellers found it so cute. I learned how to do household chores on my own. I just watched our housemaids. Since I was in fifth grade until I left school for good, my mother did not have to go to my school to have me enrolled; I did everything myself. Sometimes, I would go to the doctor alone for a medical check up; the grown-ups in the clinic would be surprised to find me in the doctor's office unaccompanied. I was into the retail business when I was ten. I secretly sold cigarettes, chewing gum and menthol candies at our local cockpit. My mother was furious when she found out. She said that the cockpit was not a place for a young girl like me. She also found it very embarrassing to have a daughter who was a "tindera" at the "sabungan". I sold my goods to my uncles instead. Then I sold candies in school. I was also into the ice candy business. My profit margin was always at 25%. I never compromised quality. My ice candy had to be the best in the block; my neighbors were also into the same business and the competition was stiff. My customers came first when I made business decisions. I had never read about such things, but at ten years old, I understood them.

I found out how babies were made from my cousins. My elders invented silly stories about the birds and the bees. When I asked them how my mother got pregnant with my brother and my sister, they would tell me that my parents drew pictures of babies and placed them on top of my mother's tummy. Curious, I drew a picture of a baby girl and placed it on my tummy and waited for myself to get pregnant; of course, I never did. I even tried cutting pictures of babies from magazines, and again placing them on my tummy, but to no avail. Then I heard my cousins who were trash-mouths describing the sexual act in such lurid detail. I was so shocked! To my seven-year old mind, it was the most disgusting thing to do. I didn't want to do such a thing! I changed my mind about having babies. (Of course, when I grew up, I changed my mind again...hehehehe...)

A girl's first menstruation marks her entrance to womanhood; I was thirteen years old when I had mine. I did not get scared; on the contrary, I was elated! I was in a hurry to grow up, and the much awaited time had come. However, the first time I felt that I was really a woman was when I fell in love for the first time. It was then that I felt I had really grown up.