Enrollment Dilemma

Since almost being an instructor at ATI-Phils, I’ve been having this annoying dilemma for days now.

To enroll or not to?

This being my first job, I’m gonna have to have time to focus and adjust, of course, as I’m not yet used to the environment of being employed. Also, I figured, with all the dreams and goals (both short and long term) that I’ve set for myself, I’m gonna have to start pursuing them early, and this could be a pretty good start. Aaaand, that’s what’s bringing me to the side of skipping this semester and starting fresh on October.

On the other hand…

I’ve been itching to finish the remaining 2 years I have in college in order for me to be able to go full time on this job some time in the future. Aside from that, I am 500% sure that the mother wouldn’t approve of me stopping school for a while too. I’ve been studying so long, this would cause a very huge fight between us.

So what should I do now? I have less than a month to decide. This is confusing.



Living in fiction

I’ve never thought I’d be a good writer for fiction. Not that I’ve tried and failed, I just didn’t think I’d make it big in fiction. And there goes another self-pity moment. Haha.

I’ve never written anything fictional tho, I made it happen… Sorta.

For years, I’ve been making everybody believe what I say, what I show. And it began all because of one incident that made me put all the pain in the unconscious part of my whole being. I learned about that in Psychology about a year ago. It said that when one goes through trauma, the brain automatically sets it aside in the unconscious part, bit by bit, for the person to forget that it even happened. I don’t really know if my definition is right, but that’s how I understood it.

Five and a half years ago, I didn’t know what I was doing. I was in the rebellion-experimental teenage phase. I sought change. I never wanted to be consistent – this being said in general. I never wanted the same hairstyle for more than a few months. I never used the same school bag for days. I never wore the same shoes straight. I never went with the same group of friends. Not until I reached my senior year. And that’s where this madness all began.

Going into new relationships are always scary. Specially if you never really knew the person well before you got together. Doubts were always there, and as part of being a teen, bragging was also there. Couples I knew always bragged about how he gave her a gift on their first month, how he took her out on a date and it was so special, how she introduced him to her parents and they liked him (not that I have an issue with my parents), or just simply how they text one another whether in class or not. I’m honestly a very insecure person.. Well who isn’t? And as part of my tremendously growing insecurity about a lot of things, my fictional love story came to be.

The fiction I’m referring to isn’t exaggerated. It’s just the little things that I covered up by fantasies, that unfortunately grew bigger and bigger, until I couldn’t control it anymore. I get disappointed all the time, I get upset, and with little compromise, I come up with something very far from what happened all in my head, and I choose to live with it.

I have never been cheated on before. Before I got into this relationship. I’ve never felt pain that feels endless, specially when I’m alone at night. Everything was brand new. It was like coming to a foreign land where I didn’t know anything, and I needed to go through fire to learn. I never knew him before the first conversation we had. We were classmates, sure. But I was never really friends with him. I only found out about him through my friends, who knew him from when they were younger. That became the tricky part. I never knew who to believe. Friends who knew him since God knows when, or him, who has just entered my life and would still be showing me who he is. He was always the quiet one, telling nobody what’s going on in his mind, and I was always outspoken. Complete opposites, everyone said.

It was a mixture of confusion, fear and bliss.

But then again, I was in the experimental phase of my life, so I gave it a go. He seemed like such a charming person, and even before we were together, he had promised me things, and he made me feel like nobody else has ever done my entire life. I guess that was one of the biggest signs I took. I never knew he would be the last, I never even imagined having to start a family with him. I never thought he deserved it.

Half a year into the relationship, I was happy. I knew I was, because I was worry-free. I didn’t mind anything, and we never argued. He was just as sweet as when I met him. Taking the selfish side of the story, I’m the type of person who needs that kind of attention. I feel abandoned every time I’m not prioritized, and I know that’s not a good thing, but someone has to live with it. A few more months later, strange things started happening, and I felt more confusion than ever. It was that kind of trauma, wherein you wouldn’t wanna go out in public for a while, just because you’re hurt. That kind of pain where you just wanna curl up in bed, and do nothing.

The pain never ended. It kept on coming back. There were days I thought I’ve forgotten, but everything comes back, and everything seemed fresh again.

The first time was truly painful, and it was recurring. It became habitual, that I felt trashed, and I felt worthless. People tell me I’d go far. I’ve got a bit of talent, sensible issues, wit, and charm. People always told me anybody who would be my other half will be the luckiest person in the world. I felt the opposite. I never felt beautiful, I never felt appreciated, all when this was happening. But I held on. I have been holding on so long for me to let go.

These series of events made me sadder as the days went by. And I still didn’t want to let go, because I believed in him.

There were days when I laughed my heart out in school with friends, but when I came home at night, a black hole of depression sucked me in. No difference to what I’m feeling now, and it happened so often, it became a routine. I already expected the thoughts and the tears whenever I was idle.

But nobody saw that. Nobody saw what was happening to me, because it was too far from what I show when I’m not alone. I never told anyone, not even the closest of friends I had. To them, I was happy. I didn’t have problems, and everybody wanted their lives to be like mine. Everybody envied the life I was living. Or so they thought.

Fiction, indeed.

Every waking moment was terrible. But I had to hide it. I never wanted anybody to feel pity for me. I never needed that, as I was feeling it myself. I always get compliments from random people, but I never really felt it. Because the person who I wanted to notice me, never did.

Everything was made up in my mind, and I was living in a world where nobody hurt me. I never wanted to leave that place, but I had to.

I was missing out on everything. I didn’t see how much my life was falling apart because of that. And that little world I created, had my expectations set, and I grew more upset every single time people failed to meet them. I was one big stressed out wreck.

I show everyone how happy I am, when all this time that was how happy I wanted to be. I’ve been faking smiles and laughs so much, I don’t even know how it feels like to really be happy.

Recent events made me realize these. Because I’ve stepped out of my own comfort zone, and yes, I got hurt more than ever. I grew to be a jealous, paranoid girlfriend, and I know nobody wants that. But who could blame me. After a series of recurring incidents, what was I to do?

Today, I felt like letting this out. I couldn’t have possibly kept it in much longer. I have been in and out of the suicidal stages of depression, and all that I went through, on my own. I always wanted someone to be with me, but nobody was. I felt alone. I felt like nobody was ever there for me. Nobody listened. Nobody cared.

Pain changes people. It surely changed me.

And until this very moment, I still feel stings from remembering everything. Everything that ever happened and caused me pain. Everything that ever made me shed tears. I’m not as strong as anybody thinks I am. I give in to my depression and let it take over me. I don’t need doctors, I don’t need medication. I just need someone to be there for me when I need them most. I just need to feel the love I was missing out on for so many years.

Promises will always be broken. Faith will always be judged. But giving chances would never do you harm.

I’ve learned that helping someone change feels good, not because you made one change, but because you were the reason for it.

Again, expectations are set, and I am more than prepared for disappointment. But who cares? No pain, no gain. And people do change. It would take time, but if you give up on someone, how could they ever learn what went wrong? How could you ever feel satisfaction from what you’ve started?

Sometimes, pain would be unbearable, but outcomes would be worth it. You just need someone to help you get through the rough times.

And I hope this time, I finally let go of my little world, and start feeling better for real.

What I’m not and who I am.

I am a young adult. Not a teenager anymore. I’m still in College and I come from a broken family. I have a three year old son and I do not regret having him.

I’m not your typical girl who wears pretty dresses and matching shoes and jewelry. I do not pray before meals. I do not go to mass every Sunday. I do not follow the rules and I don’t like being told what to do. I’m not afraid of consequences and I accept karma as it is.

But I do my best in everything I do. I like to stand out and I do everything just to make it happen. I like sneakers and I wear makeup. I like men’s shirts and I wear them all the time. I’m not sexy nor am I smart. But I am wise and I know thats enough. I make mistakes just like everybody else. I drink alcohol, I smoke and I party. I fail exams and I drop subjects. I did not finish college on time and I am not an achiever.

I may appear to be an example of today’s wasted youth but I’m not. I’m just a girl. That happens to be very eccentric and unusual. I appear strange and wild. But I know my priorities and I do my responsibilities. I raise my son the way I know. And nothing’s stopping me. Because as far as I know, good parenting does not rely on financial capability or knowledge. But on love and acceptance, trust and enthusiasm. I accept who I am and I’m not in rebellion nor am I in pain. I just like to have fun and I do it my way.

Would you blame people for being what they are? Would you contradict a person’s way of thinking just because society says its not right?

People like me are the immediate target of the judgemental eye. But to those who can’t help but complain, do you even know enough for you to judge what we are? I don’t think so.

And I hope this somehow opens the minds of thousands… Even millions of people who prefer sticking to the status quo and refuse to accept reality.

“The negative things that people say against me do not define me as a person, but instead, it defines them.” – Jose Mari “Vice Ganda” Viceral

Bad habits – Quitting isn’t always bad.

Through the years, I’ve been with so many people who contributed a lot to who I am today. My personality, my attitude… And my habits. I’ve slowly dropped most of the critical ones. I stopped my almost alcoholic life almost three months ago. I bailed on billiards long enough. I distanced myself from most of it, but one. One habit I’ve become dependent on and am most certainly willing to quit as well, or if not, probably lessen. The Cancer Stick…. Cigarettes.

I grew up, with more than four family members I constantly see wandering around with these things that produce smoke. I always told myself that I will NEVER try smoking. But guess what. They say never say never. After fourteen years out of my mother’s womb, I decided to try it out. Just to see why they like it so much. And because back then, smoking was cool. But we were young. Barely ready to face the real world. I was vulnerable, and pounced on anything that seemed to be in with our generation.

Four-five years after, here I am. Very dependent on cigarettes, and honestly.. I’m afraid. Not because people around me might not like me if I didnt smoke with them or whatever.. But because I have a child, and I couldn’t even imagine if I had to deprive him of what he should have, just because of my vice.

Now, I’m writing this post to start tracking my consumption of nicotine sticks in a day. To see if I’d succeed and finally get to quit smoking, or if I’d grow worse.

Everyday, I’ll be posting how many sticks I’ve burned and how I’m coping with it.

I’m planning to cut down bit by bit, by all means necessary. I’ll be starting tomorrow, December 11, 2012. I’m planning to start by reducing my consumption of 12-15 sticks a day to 8-10.

Nothing happens right when you want them to. Everything should be done carefully. And I am determined to achieve this. Its never too late for change. Specially if its for the better

Join me as I go on a journey towards clean lungs and a healthy lifestyle! šŸ™‚

Good bye 1st semester, good bye Hotel & Restaurant Management

FINALLY! What seemed such a long semester already ended. Today, October 20 was our last day in school. Final exams, deadlines and the like. This week has been more stressful than usual, projects and papers adding up to the already existing pressure brought about by the final examinations. But, let’s put all that behind us, because I want to enjoy this semestral break! We only have about 3 weeks, including enrollment and releasing of grade slips, but still, 3 weeks is already enough to relax and unwind from all the stress we’ve been through since June.

Anyway, remember how in some of my previous posts, I was in denial with what course to apply for? Well, this coming sem, I’ll be shifting, and I hope this is the last. From Hotel & Restaurant Management, I’ll be shifting to Travel Management, because I want things to be more than perfect for Mico & I. He’ll be transferring by November to OLFU, and will be taking up BSTM. Since we’ve had so many issues with people around us, we both agreed on enrolling the same course, same sections and everything, to make sure we’ll be together all the time. Not 24/7, yes, but most of our time.

Why did I agree? Even if I know that it’ll keep me in college longer, communication is what we lack. It’s what’s keeping us apart all the time. Being in the same course and having the same classes would increase communication between us, then we’d be able to go through everything smoothly, and everything will be easier.

I’m just nervous of what would happen next. But for now, I’m more than happy that we’re okay, and we’re starting over. We know what ticks each other off, we avoid everything that could possibly wreck what we have, and we’re both here for Klaud. For me, that’s all that matters. Wish us luck! :>

ImageLuneta, October 17 2012

(c) Bianca Angeles