The lesson last night was how to use your diving buddy's alternate air source, using sign language to communicate that you've ran out of air. The major exercise, though, was getting used to removing water from your goggles when it has seeped in. We also learned the five point descent and five point ascent. Going down and going up are the hardest part for me because I couldn't coordinate controlling my buoyancy control device, decompressing air from my ears, and remembering to breathe through my mouth all at once. I keep holding my breath, and in the hurry to breath again once I'm 3 meters down, I sink too fast which is very dangerous.
The fun part was removing the snorkel and swimming from one end of the pool to the other, and then putting it back and blowing out the water. It was fun because I'm pretty good at it, and also because Mr. P would give me high-five with two hands everytime I do it right. We also tried swimming through a square object at the bottom of the pool so we would learn to estimate the bulk of our body with all our equipments on. We also played udnerwater frisbee, which is kinda boring when you're in a rectangular pool.
Mr. P broke my heart last night. We stopped the session because Lea was getting cold. After we've showered Mr. P said we should grab something hot to drink. We went to Nemoto, a surprisingly authentic Japanese restaurant along Buendia I never took seriously before because right in front of it is the loading/unloading point of PUVs.
Mr. P and I had miso-ramen, which was delicious if not a little salty (I still say Seryna is the place to go for Japanese food). That was when I found out Mr. P has a wife, an 11-year old daughter, and a son who's older than me! I was starting to believe we were at the beginning of one of those May-December affairs. Tsk tsk!
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Love-free bubble
The human heart is an amazing thing. Our capacity to love is nothing short of... scary. To put yourself out there, lay all your cards on the table, and not expect anything to come off it all... is to commit suicide. Recently, somebody dedicated a song to me, Wait Forever by Gary Valenciano. The chorus brought a chill to my spine: "So, I say I love you. I don’t wanna wait forever just to say I need you. Doesn’t even have to matter if it really matters anything to you."
I like the way Spongebob put it: "Falling in love is like handing a gun to someone and hoping that person won't pull the trigger."
One time, my friend and I were talking about how some people can fall in love over and over again, despite the pain, frustration, and all the emotional wreck it entails every time. I don't think it's all because it feels good; it sure as hell sucks when things start going downhill. I think it's because of hope. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope gets people hurt. People die of hope. The funny thing is, it is also hope that erases the memory of pain, or at least dulls it, so that we commit to the same hopeless hoping again. It's a vicious cycle.
The hardest thing about watching someone fall in love is seeing that person put all his faith in you, day by day, with every glance, with every exchanged nonsense. While you're wondering what you ever did to deserve the right to hold this person's life in your hand, he closes your hand around it tighter. While you want to ignore him and walk away, laugh it off, you know that it will only increase his mad hope, and pulling the trigger--killing him-- is really the only way, the kinder way, to save him.
The hardest thing about being in this position is being all too familiar with it. Instead of feeling grateful of being accorded love, you dismiss it wearily and look for the nearest exit. Although, there are still times, like now, when you're just left bewildered. I've often wondered what it's like to feel that someone is meant for you. To be so convinced that you've found the one to declare and indeed decide to wait for that person-- forever, if necessary. To be so full of love that you're happy just to show it, to give it, because you don't know how to do anything else. I've heard such lines so many times before that I'm almost convinced all guys obtain a copy of The Great Love Lines Book when they come of a certain age.
Admittedly, though, sometimes it's tempting to just let yourself be embraced by a love so strong and persistent. Whether out of pity, weakness, or convenience, it seems simpler to just allow somebody to take care of you, to make you happy, even worship you. The problem, however, is the tendency to overlook the fact that it's the slower way around to dying. In the end, love suffocates you, and sucks theother person dry. I would know, because it's the story of my previous relationship. If somebody asked me how I felt when I was in a relationship, I would have to say that for the most part, I was a yo-yo bouncing to-and-fro happiness and guilt.
I guess I needed to write this because I'm frustrated. If I had a choice, I don't want to be long-term girlfriend material. I'm exhausted and sad. My vanity is pleased with the admiration, but I don't need love. I don't want to be the subject of love poems, and I don't want to induce inspiration out of love songs. I don't want to have the ability to make people do amazing acts of love. I don't want romance until I'm ready to give some.
I'm so tired of putting up this fight with myself between not hurting anybody and not giving in. How can you genuinely have a good time with someone, and then tell that person that it doesn't mean a thing? How can you look a person in the eye and tell him that while it's not his fault, he's just not good enough for you? How do you show that you're sincerely sorry while feeling relieved inside? How can you accept the gestures and say you didn't ask for them? The ethical battle can get pretty messy.
Sometimes I wonder why my love stories have to be so gloomy. Why do I attract the wrong guys in the first place? Can somebody hold off these guys for now and keep me in a love-free bubble? Can't I just get a one-time shot at love, at the right time, with the right person... and spare everybody the trouble? Because, what's the point of history? Love doesn't look back; not even forward. Do I have "Mr. Wrong Welcome" written on my forehead?
I like the way Spongebob put it: "Falling in love is like handing a gun to someone and hoping that person won't pull the trigger."
One time, my friend and I were talking about how some people can fall in love over and over again, despite the pain, frustration, and all the emotional wreck it entails every time. I don't think it's all because it feels good; it sure as hell sucks when things start going downhill. I think it's because of hope. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope gets people hurt. People die of hope. The funny thing is, it is also hope that erases the memory of pain, or at least dulls it, so that we commit to the same hopeless hoping again. It's a vicious cycle.
The hardest thing about watching someone fall in love is seeing that person put all his faith in you, day by day, with every glance, with every exchanged nonsense. While you're wondering what you ever did to deserve the right to hold this person's life in your hand, he closes your hand around it tighter. While you want to ignore him and walk away, laugh it off, you know that it will only increase his mad hope, and pulling the trigger--killing him-- is really the only way, the kinder way, to save him.
The hardest thing about being in this position is being all too familiar with it. Instead of feeling grateful of being accorded love, you dismiss it wearily and look for the nearest exit. Although, there are still times, like now, when you're just left bewildered. I've often wondered what it's like to feel that someone is meant for you. To be so convinced that you've found the one to declare and indeed decide to wait for that person-- forever, if necessary. To be so full of love that you're happy just to show it, to give it, because you don't know how to do anything else. I've heard such lines so many times before that I'm almost convinced all guys obtain a copy of The Great Love Lines Book when they come of a certain age.
Admittedly, though, sometimes it's tempting to just let yourself be embraced by a love so strong and persistent. Whether out of pity, weakness, or convenience, it seems simpler to just allow somebody to take care of you, to make you happy, even worship you. The problem, however, is the tendency to overlook the fact that it's the slower way around to dying. In the end, love suffocates you, and sucks theother person dry. I would know, because it's the story of my previous relationship. If somebody asked me how I felt when I was in a relationship, I would have to say that for the most part, I was a yo-yo bouncing to-and-fro happiness and guilt.
I guess I needed to write this because I'm frustrated. If I had a choice, I don't want to be long-term girlfriend material. I'm exhausted and sad. My vanity is pleased with the admiration, but I don't need love. I don't want to be the subject of love poems, and I don't want to induce inspiration out of love songs. I don't want to have the ability to make people do amazing acts of love. I don't want romance until I'm ready to give some.
I'm so tired of putting up this fight with myself between not hurting anybody and not giving in. How can you genuinely have a good time with someone, and then tell that person that it doesn't mean a thing? How can you look a person in the eye and tell him that while it's not his fault, he's just not good enough for you? How do you show that you're sincerely sorry while feeling relieved inside? How can you accept the gestures and say you didn't ask for them? The ethical battle can get pretty messy.
Sometimes I wonder why my love stories have to be so gloomy. Why do I attract the wrong guys in the first place? Can somebody hold off these guys for now and keep me in a love-free bubble? Can't I just get a one-time shot at love, at the right time, with the right person... and spare everybody the trouble? Because, what's the point of history? Love doesn't look back; not even forward. Do I have "Mr. Wrong Welcome" written on my forehead?
Friday, September 26, 2008
Scubamazing
No no no no no... this can't be. Can it? I have a crush on my scuba diving instructor! He might be the same age as my dad... maybe older. What does this say about my taste in men??
Yesterday was my first scuba diving lesson. It's an incentive from the company care of Mark. One day he came in my office and asked if I'm interested to learn scuba diving. When I said yes, he said, "Ok, this afternoon please go to K---. Mr. P will be waiting. You need to be oriented." Just like that. That afternoon at 530pm, even though I wasn't done with work, Mark pushed me to go to the "orientation." I pictured a classroom where there would be students like me, although I had some doubts because where I was being sent was actually a restaurant. When I got there I found Mr. P waiting for me in one of the tables. That's when I sensed I would be the only orientee for the night, because Mr. P doesn't really teach. He's going to teach me as a special favor to Mark. Mr. P is the owner of this restaurant. When he found out I came straight from the office, he invited me to eat, and so I got a free meal which is expensive in that restaurant. That was the beginning.
Yesterday, I put on a full scuba diving gear and went more than 10 feet deep into a special pool for training. All I can say is that scuba diving is not a joke. It's your life on the line. Even though I can swim well enough to save a life, I was scared the whole time because it's all about the science of your body's relationship with air and water. You can't wing it under there; you need to be knowledgeable about how the three components work or else you're patay.
After the lesson I was totally worn out. I burned calories by merely putting on the skintight scuba suit! Wearing the full gear was heavy too, and the information overload makes you want to groan and just go home. It didn't help my condition that it was pouring cats and dogs last night. But something incredible happened on my way home.
I took an FX where this big guy in dreadlocks was the driver. He was playing Joshua Radin on his iPod so I figured he's one of those people who'd get passengers on his way home as an extra income. I sat on the passenger seat beside him. Since I was pooped, I slept until we reached Caloocan. When I jerked awake he asked permission to drop off the rest of the passengers in Monumento first and turn around for me.
Once we were alone, he said he wanted to give me a pillow because my head kept lolling left and right while I was asleep. I shared that I went scuba diving, and lo and behold, he showed me his professional scuba diver's card and instructor ID! He asked where I practiced, etc., and it turned out the pool we rented that night is where he works! The remarkable coincidence got us both excited until we reached my house. Probably I'll see him again when we have our next lesson.
Today Mr. P called to tell me to bring a swimming cap next time. He also asked if I'm feeling tired. I didn't tell him that I almost called in sick because I couldn't get up from bed, and I felt feverish. But his follow up on last night's session has made me silly, giddy happy. But he is such an old man! =s
Yesterday was my first scuba diving lesson. It's an incentive from the company care of Mark. One day he came in my office and asked if I'm interested to learn scuba diving. When I said yes, he said, "Ok, this afternoon please go to K---. Mr. P will be waiting. You need to be oriented." Just like that. That afternoon at 530pm, even though I wasn't done with work, Mark pushed me to go to the "orientation." I pictured a classroom where there would be students like me, although I had some doubts because where I was being sent was actually a restaurant. When I got there I found Mr. P waiting for me in one of the tables. That's when I sensed I would be the only orientee for the night, because Mr. P doesn't really teach. He's going to teach me as a special favor to Mark. Mr. P is the owner of this restaurant. When he found out I came straight from the office, he invited me to eat, and so I got a free meal which is expensive in that restaurant. That was the beginning.
Yesterday, I put on a full scuba diving gear and went more than 10 feet deep into a special pool for training. All I can say is that scuba diving is not a joke. It's your life on the line. Even though I can swim well enough to save a life, I was scared the whole time because it's all about the science of your body's relationship with air and water. You can't wing it under there; you need to be knowledgeable about how the three components work or else you're patay.
After the lesson I was totally worn out. I burned calories by merely putting on the skintight scuba suit! Wearing the full gear was heavy too, and the information overload makes you want to groan and just go home. It didn't help my condition that it was pouring cats and dogs last night. But something incredible happened on my way home.
I took an FX where this big guy in dreadlocks was the driver. He was playing Joshua Radin on his iPod so I figured he's one of those people who'd get passengers on his way home as an extra income. I sat on the passenger seat beside him. Since I was pooped, I slept until we reached Caloocan. When I jerked awake he asked permission to drop off the rest of the passengers in Monumento first and turn around for me.
Once we were alone, he said he wanted to give me a pillow because my head kept lolling left and right while I was asleep. I shared that I went scuba diving, and lo and behold, he showed me his professional scuba diver's card and instructor ID! He asked where I practiced, etc., and it turned out the pool we rented that night is where he works! The remarkable coincidence got us both excited until we reached my house. Probably I'll see him again when we have our next lesson.
Today Mr. P called to tell me to bring a swimming cap next time. He also asked if I'm feeling tired. I didn't tell him that I almost called in sick because I couldn't get up from bed, and I felt feverish. But his follow up on last night's session has made me silly, giddy happy. But he is such an old man! =s
Thursday, September 25, 2008
22nd Birthday
I wish I could say that I made some profound realizations on my 22nd birthday. The sad truth is, I refused to think at all during the weekend and just enjoyed myself. It's the first time I did something to celebrate my birthday; all those previous years I let other people decide what will happen on that day.
Spending it with family and friends at the beach was the best plan I could've made on a two weeks notice. Next year, I hope I can spend it abroad, maybe in Japan. My parents enjoyed themselves thoroughly, which is rare. I guess trips aren't friendly to aging bones. My friends enjoyed it too, or so they say. Probably because it was all expenses paid. Haha! I only got two gifts, both from people I'm not even close to. That's what sucks about having your birthday fall on a weekend or holiday. But I'm very satisfied with one of the gifts I got... American Dad Season 1-3!!! Hahaha! Woot woot! I love Roger the alien.
I probably should get something for myself, but I didn't get angpao so... haha.
Poor me, noh?
Spending it with family and friends at the beach was the best plan I could've made on a two weeks notice. Next year, I hope I can spend it abroad, maybe in Japan. My parents enjoyed themselves thoroughly, which is rare. I guess trips aren't friendly to aging bones. My friends enjoyed it too, or so they say. Probably because it was all expenses paid. Haha! I only got two gifts, both from people I'm not even close to. That's what sucks about having your birthday fall on a weekend or holiday. But I'm very satisfied with one of the gifts I got... American Dad Season 1-3!!! Hahaha! Woot woot! I love Roger the alien.
I probably should get something for myself, but I didn't get angpao so... haha.
Poor me, noh?
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