Random Thoughts (Oct 2007)

I hold on to people. I never let go of them long after they’ve moved on so much in their lives that they can’t even remember who I am. Can I help it? A friend of mine kept saying let go and just move on. Yeah, must be why she’s been in so many relationships. Me? I’d keep on hanging on to someone even if it were probably better that I didn’t. I know in my mind that there are people you shouldn’t keep in your life since they will not help you. Or worse they will contribute to your decline. But I still hope against hope. Even in my dreams I see how stubborn I am about these things. There’s always a theme about being reunited to a long lost friend. Or it is just about being reconciled in general. But the truth is, sometimes dreams are better than reality. When I was in high school I mourned over a lost friendship. It gradually ended not because we fought but more because we had different worlds. I was in Makiling and at first we’d still talk about people we knew but then afterwards there just seemed to be nothing left there. Of course we had other common interests like our kittens, books, boys and such. Now, we have reconnected-thanks to friendster- but sure we’re both married now, we have daughters but I had lost that need for reconciliation or at least I feel like I wouldn’t feel any different if we never spoke to each other again. I still call her my “historical friend” since we’ve known each other since we were kids. I’m still glad that we keep in-touch. But I can’t fathom how sometimes people we’ve only known for a reason or maybe a season affect us. I had that kind of a friend when I came here in America. I blame my compulsion to be honest for having ruined our friendship. But then maybe I was just too young then (25?) and I expressed myself foolishly to someone who was probably 6-8 years my senior. But I still think that the punishment did not fit the crime. But then life goes on…I’m about to have another child. Maybe this is why I’m in a reflective mode. Even though I would like to keep a diary I can’t keep up. That was probably my escape. I would hide within my own words. Even in my journals I keep a certain portion in fear that someone might read it. I can’t trust people except maybe my parents. Yup, that’s really the reason why I came here to America, to be with my family. I’m just that type of person, someone who is rooted. It wasn’t until before I had to leave Michigan that I made real connections with people. Not the kind of connection business minded people think but more on a relational level. Sometimes it seems like keeping friends don’t matter anymore since it takes too much effort. But I just can’t help it. I believe that it is always important to have at least two people… three if you’re lucky whom you can be totally honest with. People whom you know you can trust and you know they have your best interest in mind. But it is just exasperating especially if I come to think of those I considered my closest friends back in Manila whom I hold dearest but I’ve hardly heard from since I left. I know some people are just not the letter writing type but then I am not a telephone talking type of person. I’ve had quite a few bad experiences and I still prefer the more unobtrusive way. Unfortunately, I tend to be more vocal when I write which means I say more than what I’d intended in contrast to speaking to someone in person. What am I trying to write? Nothing really. Just random thoughts about life in general. You see, even though at first glance the story of how I got married seems to be a veering away from what is expected of me. The bigger picture would tell otherwise. Maybe it wasn’t expected of me to be pregnant out of wedlock but being married is still something expected of me. I am still someone who follows instructions. I still like to plan things although now, with the influence of my husband, I am more flexible. I don’t get too upset anymore when things don’t go the way I want them to. I’m satisfied with just now. Sure my subconscious would disagree but hey, how important is it? Maybe, writing about things is about control. It gives me control over things I can’t control…hmmm…and the fact that I realize it gives me the upper hand.