Weekend Retreat

Went for a weekend retreat across the border up north. It was real fun because the waterfall is really nice, the water cold, and the ambience soothing. It gave me the kind of energy you hardly get when you stayed too long in the city.

The trip had me thinking that sometimes it’s hard to comprehend life. The things they say about ‘life flashing in front of your eyes’, I don’t really understand. Maybe because I have not lived long enough to understand it. Maybe it’s my ignorance. I don’t know. But when I slipped from some slippery rock, and fell into the water, I don’t know what went through my mind. ‘Cause nothing of that, you know, the life-flashing-in-front-of-your-eyes sort happen.

Probably is the fear of dying (trust me it’s really rocky down there). Or the feeling of helplessness (I can’t bloody swim). And you must be thinking what the hell is a guy who can’t swim doing at waterfall. Living life, my dear friend, living life. It wasn’t that bad, I survived didn’t I?

I’m glad I’m still alive. For a moment I really thought it’s the end. But then again, I might have just died happy. Because I have great friends, and I felt like I have lived life to the fullest. Ah, I really wonder.

P.S. The trip was really enriching, despite the fact that I almost died, lost my cell to pickpockets, and went home with blocked right ear =)

I tried

There are many ways to describe heartbreaks, and many more ways to describe failed relationships. Part of the reason why I’ve been rather emo in prior few posts is that it has been a year (to the date) since me and my ex-girlfriend broke up. It was rather a sad thing, that breakup, but it was inevitable.

If there is one way to describe how I felt about this whole thing, it would be this.

I have this flower on my table for a little over a week now. When I first got it, it was pretty and dandy. When I left it on the table without sunlight, or water, for a few days, the flower started to wither away. So I did what any sane man would do, put it into a vase and place it by the window side. For a while it looked as if it would survive, or at least lasted a little longer than it did. But today, it seems like it’s not gonna make it. In retrospect, I could have placed it in the vase, water it daily, and ensure it got enough sunlight earlier. Perhaps that would have prolonged its life. But then again, my folly got the better of my common sense, as it has always been.

And that sums up the entire relationship, me and my ex. Many things she said after we broke up, about how I didn’t show enough love, hurt me ’cause I did try. I did put the water in, and ensure there was sunlight. But it wasn’t enough. In the end, it just didn’t work out. And although I know that nothing last forever, just like that little flower, but I sincerely thought that it would last a little longer than it did. ‘Cause it was the first relationship that I was serious about. She said I didn’t seem like I wanted to commit. I guess she never stayed long enough to find out. I’m not suggesting that she packed her bags and gave up; on her part she did try to make it work. But seriously, who are we kidding? Fact is she left ’cause I wasn’t good enough.

She said that love alone was not enough in a relationship. I didn’t understand that stupid comment until the flower died on me. As much as I wanted to keep the flower pretty and dandy as it was, I didn’t do enough to keep it last. And it pains me to know that along the way there were difficult choices, and obviously she wasn’t on top of the list. I can go on about how I’ve changed, but that can only be put to test in the next relationship, which if any of you was wondering, is not gonna be back with her.

They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them. One year seems like a lifetime, doesn’t it? Oh, the implicit meaning. =)

Randomly Ordered

Once in a while a girl comes along and make you wanna do crazy things. Like run naked in middle of road (though I believe it’s illegal here). And that’s that, the girl that makes you wanna do crazy things. Girl that makes you throw everything out the window. That kind of girl, I’m not letting go.

And that’s the trouble. I’ve spent better half of my life thus far waiting for that kind of girl. Waiting. And in between many came and go, more of the latter. All this because my notion of romantic involvement involves, rather naively, that kind of girl, the kind that makes you wanna make porn movies.

I believe that’s not that bad, and only matter of time until I find one that really makes me feel that way. But I’ve waited, bided my time long enough, to realise that I might have been a fool. I’ve always, with rather suave manner, told my buddies that if a girl comes along and it feels right, just go for it. And I’ve almost always guilty of hypocrisies because I find it difficult to follow my own doctrine. ‘Cause I’m waiting for that feeling, that moment, that spark that makes me wanna jump without safety belts.

And it’s stupid. Because no matter how I look at it, there’ll never be any Elisha Cuthbert from The Girl Next Door (hot, caring, porn star, and perpetual male fantasy). And that’s alright, because I’ll almost never be Gerald Butler from P.S. I Love You (hot, caring, funny and thoroughly completes any girl). Maybe once in a while someone like Elisha Cuthbert will come along, but until then maybe it’s good to place her where she belongs – fantasy – and perhaps take that first step and go after the real girl that’s been on my mind lately.

It helps too if I notice the simple things I ought to see. Oh, the sweet agony of wishy-washy.