June 21, 2002

BLOGS.

Either you’re a) addicted to keeping one (or in my case, four) or b) reading them.

I’m both.

Blogs I can’t resist - even when I have a deadline/work has piled up/my boss is standing right behind me/I’m late for class: Mona’s and Duke’s .

***

I’VE BEEN asked to give a short talk at a Pinoy writers workshop tomorrow. I’m nervous as hell – so nervous that the thought of getting up there to speak makes my stomach lurch and triggers a strong urge to throw up.

The people who know me well will probably roll their eyes when they read this. "Si Pam mahihiya? Eh ang daldal niyan eh.” The non-secret is out - I can be so talkative that my friends have to shut me up sometimes.

But there is something different about standing up in front of a group of strangers, expecting them to take you seriously.

I should probably get used to this, though. After all, I will be giving another talk in an all-girls’ school next week. And I have dreams of becoming a teacher.

“It will be a breeze,” Ru said. Easy for him to say – he’s used to this sort of thing.

I’d rather be read – or heard singing.

***

RATS.

Two new zits have sprouted on my face – on the night before the workshop.

Just what I needed. In addition to my already existing anxiety, I will now be worried that the participants will be distracted by the huge mountain on my forehead.

Gardammit.

***

PHANTOM texter is at it again. Even if I get nasty, even if I ignore him, he just keeps sending messages.

“I am probably the person you’d least expect and wish for.”

Now, above being annoyed, I am horrified.

Who the hell is he?

***

ONE THING can be said about my life – things happen so fast.

E, the guy I kissed a few days ago, had left a message on my machine while I was in school.

“Hi, Pam. It’s me. I have something to tell you. I don’t know how to say this. She… she went over to my house the other day. She apologized… and…. and… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I hope you’re not mad. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I hope we can still be friends. I hope we can still talk. I’m really sorry…..”

I deleted the message before hearing the whole thing. This was what he meant when he left another message the other night saying he “had a problem.”

Something is very wrong with this picture. He has worked things out with his estranged girlfriend and he evidently thinks that I am heartbroken. God. The thought of that makes my skin crawl.

To help burst his little delusion, I texted him, “M very happy 4 u.” And every word was sincere. He thought I was just trying to be brave.

He called again. I thought about not picking up – I didn’t have the patience for drama – but I knew he might think I was too affected to talk to him. I grudgingly lifted the receiver to my ear. He kept saying “sorry” – so many times that one would think he was getting paid for every repetition.

Every single apology grated on my nerves – because I did not see any need for it. After telling him kindly that he didn’t need to feel bad about what happened and that I was really waiting for him and his girl to work things out, he still wouldn’t stop.

He even said, “You didn’t give me a chance,” his tone implying that I should be regretful. I snorted. He should have just said, “You let me go. She has me now. I’m a big loss. You’re going to regret this forever.” That would have gotten his point across.

I finally lost my patience and snapped at him, “Why do you keep saying sorry? There is no issue. Am I affected? Did I get hurt? No. So stop it.”

And when I heard the glorious sound of an incoming call on his line, I breathed a sigh of relief. I can finally put the phone down. I did so hurriedly, after goodbyes. Only to be misinterpreted again.

Another message on my abused machine. “See, I knew it. You are mad. You slammed the phone down.”

Good lord, help me.

I’ve tried patience. I’ve been mean. But nothing could get through his thick head. I didn’t realize he was this dense.

Now I don’t know which of his personas I like better – the wheedling lump of mush or the condescending presumptuous jerk.

My god, E, it was just a measly kiss. Fucking get a life.


***

PHANTOM texter: “If you still don’t know, you were never really listening. Either there are just too many of us to matter or you’re too self-centered. Either case, tsk.”

Me: “Self-centered? That’s rich. I didn’t ask for stupid little clues. I wanted you to be straight with me. I don’t have time to play your games. If you’re not man enough to tell me who you are, I don’t have time for you.”

Phantom texter: “Then I won’t take up more of your precious time. Only meant to bring you happiness. I’m sorry.”

Leave. Me. Alone.


***

ON TOP of that, I chipped my nail polish. And since I’m leaving early tomorrow morning, there won’t be time for my manicurist to come for a quick repair job.

Aaaaaargh.

This definitely isn’t my day.

***

THANKS, JM. I needed that. You’re a sweetie.




June 20, 2002

I HATE name-droppers.

Please. Try to earn my respect and admiration with your own accomplishments - not your supposed friends'.

***

PHANTOM texter still wouldn't budge.

"As Popeye always says, I am what I am and that's all that I am."

Ugh. How can I trust someone who quotes a weird cartoon?