Ghost yesterday

A few days ago I bumped into someone I never thought I would see again. Wearing a black v-neck sweaterwith torn jeans, that person was a picture of perfection. I was shell-shocked, but I managed to muster upa smile and a friendly, "Hey, how are you?"

Her eyes travelled up to meet my eyes. Ever the petite person, she was still someone that couldintimidate you. I've yet met another person who can outclass her strong fiery gaze. Bitches usually have that kind of eyes. Those unforgiving stares.

"Hi," she said slowly, a smile half-formed on her face. People were milling around us, we were at thisrestaurant that I usually frequent. But I'm a student here, I go to this restaurant like everyday. What was she doing there? I noticed a guy lagging behind us, and realized that she was with a company. "What are you doing here?" I asked, hoping that she doesn't notice my discomfort.

"Oh I'm just visiting my friends. Didn't expect to bump into you, of all places, here," she said. The dude stood there, not doing anything. And she wasn't about to introduce us either, from the look of it. I could sense the akwardness of the situation, so I excused myself. Glad to.

As I walked towards my friends, I fought the impulse to turn around and give her the last look. Was that her boyfriend? What happened to - erh - I'm not going to mention his name. Not when she's around the area, eventhough she can't hear my thoughts out loud but I just felt guilty and awful saying his name.

You see, they've been going out for almost a year when I got into the picture. But that's not how it was actually. I was always in the picture. We were friends even before she came along. I admit that I've nursed this crush on him, but that's normal. He was funny, he reads books, and he has the nicest pair of legs. When she came we were on the verge of confessing, right there. Then he saw her. Fuck, I always thought, why did we have to go to that stupid party?


But he liked me too. He liked her a lot, a lot. But maybe there was just something about me that he couldn't get with her. Maybe it was the fact that he had her, and he doesn't have me. Maybe he just like the fucking challenge, the tease. Maybe he's a twat. But I acknowledged all the maybes, once, and didn't think about them again. I wanted him. I got him.

Turned out it's not as easy as that. She was devastated when she found out. And the worst thing was that she cried in front of me. I'd gladly have her swing her fist at me, or call me names or get her posse to give me nightmares for the rest of my life. But she cried. The heart-wrenching ones I really couldn't stand because I'm a soft-core person. I wanted to kill myself.

And I stopped talking to him. Didn't answer his calls, avoided him whenever I could, didn't give him no space for explanation or confrontation, didn't give myself the chance to lash out to him or whatever. Because it wasn't all his fault. I was the cocktease. And I sure as hell avoided her like crazy too.

Until last Friday.

Sparkle

Ben Stiller's character in Reality Bites: "Have you ever felt that at one point in life you're completely happy? Just at one point, you feel as though your life is okay?"

I echo his words. Only I wish it happens to me more often. I always thought that I'm like, one in a million person who feels that, that I must be crazy for having that one-second feel good feeling, and it was a relief to be watching a movie and having a character to describe it so perfectly.

It could be anywhere, anytime. Like some unknown dirt particles, it hits you gently and you realize, "Wow, I'm so perfectly content right now. Life is GOOD." And then it goes.

Just like that. I like the fact that it keeps me on my toes, but hate it because you always miss its presence on bad days. But knowing that I will always get the feel good showers once in a while is a good enough reason to stay happy in life.

Grand Tourismo

I'm at the library. I should be mucking up for the upcoming quiz, but my concentration's gone.

I'm sitting next to this girl that I've been eyeing for quite some time. I am not a lesbo, but I have girl crushes just like the rest of you guys. You can say that I like being inspired by girls. There was this one time I bought a pair of sandals exactly like the one a girl in my subway has. I once read a book that I spied a cool girl in my Art class read.

I like having girl crushes. It gives you the motivation to become a better person, fashion wise, mentally, emotionally and physically. I call them role models to someone not open enough to hear about my 'girl crushes'.

The girl besides me is an avid library goer. She must be a junior because I have only recently seen her. She has long flowing black hair, skin the color of confused tan bottles - not that brown, not that light brown. One of her eyes is slightly smaller. She has big boobs, and a slender frame. I don't like big boobs but she carries them well. She wears the same sandals every single day, everytime I see her on the library. Her fashion sense's simple, but given the place we're at now I understand why. You can tell she's actually stylish from the bits and pieces she has - her bowling shoes she wears from time to time, her cool graphic art pencil case, and her totally DIY file folder. I could tell she's serious about her studies.

I have always wanted to be someone I'm not. Not to say that I don't love myself or hate my life, but other girls' life always intrigues me. Maybe it's the fact that they are not me, thus entirely different. Or maybe the have a different fahsion sense than I do, therefore cooler, or read the kind of books I've never heard of, hence more intelligent, or listen to bands I'm unaware of, making them cool groupies of yesterday's past.

This girl is put together. I don't know what kind of music she listens to, or what books she likes to read, though I caught her going through the fitness section a lot, and how she is like. Well, I don't want to know how she is like, it always kills the fantasy. But I know she's dedicated to her studies, unassuming with a pretty smile. I like watching her, in a non-sexual way I have to add. I love guys and what comes with them, mind you.

I have to go before she starts to get wrong ideas.

Scary Pretzel

What an intro to 2005. Five minutes ago, I saw my housemate getting it on with her current cutie on the bed. MY bed.

I should have known it when I saw his pants on the living room sofa. But they were quiet, so I thought nothing was going on, perhaps maybe he had to do a number 2 so bad he couldn't wait to ease off his pants.

The first thing I saw when I opened the door was his butt. Almost pockmarked, but strong, like he'd just been working out. Then again, he was working out, he was pummeling into her. Then my eyes focused on her legs flailing, and before I ran away I threw my book at their direction.

Ran. Hid. I heard them scurry and scuffle.

Right now I bet they're still doing it, with less noise. Nice. I'm not going to do the laundry she has to clean her own mess. Oh well, but I'm tired, I just got back from class. I might as well just jump in and forget that they ever did it on my bed.

I'll clean it tomorrow.

Twenty-O-Five

Third day of us living in 2005, and I'm back again to my books, getting ready to face the bullshit test papers and cynical lecturers. It's been good, my holidays. I'd ended a relationship, surfed the best waves, had a fling with a young dude, worked in a barbershop, and perfected my pool table skills. Plus I had also gained a new friend and comrade, Treem, my hero extraordinaire.

Along with gaining a new friendship, I've also gained weight. It's not a problem to me as my hair is longer now and resembles some sort of an 80's Kate Moss wind swept hair, and I have a nice sun-kissed tan, so the extra padding gives me a good curvy figure. Badrul told me that I look sort of like Salma Hayek, if you squint your eyes hard enough.

I'm taking Pyschology this term. It should be good, one thing I'm looking forward amongst my science-infested subjects. I've always liked human behaviour especially the non-equality between genders, why that goddamn thing is such a fucking mystery, an infinity. I like relations and metaphors, which is the main reason I took up Cultural Anthropology last two semesters, eventhough I sucked at the final papers.

I saw the skinny boy at school yesterday. The one i bumped to at some party last year. He looked kind of cute. Probably a year younger, but that's never bothered me. He could make this semesteran interesting one. After that two year relationship trip, I am so through with serious commitments, for now.

I want to flirt and be flirt right back. I want to be 20 again. Not where I am now, totally ready and totally ripe for marriage and full time job. Urgh. Them 20 somethings don't know how incredibly lucky they are. Now all I worry about is the lines around my eyes and how I can't run as fast anymore, and the guys I knew are agonizing over thinning hair.

Think age is just a number? Think again.