The Law and Economics of Lust, Love and Life

Out of My League

I’m in a crisis. I think I’m falling for someone who’s totally out of my league. Lately, I’ve been finding myself looking for ways to spend more time with this guy. This isn’t your ordinary falling for the guy story. This is the Give-it-to-Eunice-to-find-ways-to-screw-things-up story. Why is he out of my league? Let’s just say his interests don’t in any way involve me. I can’t believe I’m actually putting this into writing, this will definitely screw things up if he finds out. What am I thinking? I can’t let another friendship get ruined because of my stupid preferences for men. I cannot make this happen. I cannot acknowledge this stupid admiration.

Let’s see, this isn’t the first time that I’ve been infatuated with men who will never be interested in me, I just don’t admit them openly. For example, this writer guy I’ve been admiring made me go to Powerbooks daily just to indulge in the idea that we might bump into each other. We had a promising beginning, I mean we conversed really well. But hey, he’s almost perfect. He’s gorgeous, intelligent, funny and popular. I am uh, popular at times, smart at times but gorgeous? Err, at times. (Nge.)

I don’t know if this is a good idea. Must find someone else to crush on, or I will end up losing a very dear buddy. STOP, STOP. STOP.

Surprise! I MOVED ON..

Sometimes, it’s your friends -- or in my case the people around me—who can’t move on. Well, we can’t really blame them. Taking into consideration every little ranting they had to endure while I was “allegedly in love” with Basketball Guy, (Yeah, he’s not “he-who-must-not-be-remembered” anymore) it must be really hard for them to believe that I have seamlessly moved on. How can I possibly forget him that easily after writing such a heartfelt (by heartfelt I mean, over the top, cheesier than the cheesiest letter, almost stalker-like) letter? Oh well, my fault. So, in the spirit of pure fun, lemme enumerate the things that can validate the claim of the “once-in-love” that they have really left the past behind.

You can say his name once again without turning the situation into a SOAP OPERA MOMENT. A soap opera moment involves the looking away while staring at emptiness and showing a grim smile action.
You can look at all your pictures together –unless you have burned, torn or if it’s digital, deleted everything – without feeling the urge to guess what, BURN, TEAR or DELETE it. Or without imagining him with yellow teeth, nose hair or uhmm, body odor.
You begin to do the things you tried doing to further endear you to him but this time, because you really want to do them. e.g. being sporty, staying at home, going to prayer meetings, dressing down or losing weight.
You can sing the songs that remind you of his past existence and influence in your life. These are the songs you vowed not to sing again, the songs you have convinced yourself to be irrelevant to your present life. It may be romantic or plain related to any memory you have with him. e.g. Parokya ni Edgar’s Yes,Yes Show because you sang it together at MTV’s Mic Mo ‘to or Sugarfree’s Mariposa because you thought that he purposely sang the “ayoko na mag-isa” part for you to hear.
You start talking to his friends again after suffering the humiliation of being dumped. You swore that you won’t have anything to do with them because you were so sure that he said bad things about you while hanging out at some rest house beside the pool. You admit that you might be overreacting. But you will still exert extra effort to prove these [imaginary] bad things he said wrong.
You stop relating his name to your past pseudo romantic [mis]adventures to prove that it must be one reason why it never worked out. e.g. Arthur Gabriel -> Angelo Gutierrez.. both A.G. Then it continues to Arthur – Angelo – Anthony. I won’t date anyone whose name starts with “A” again.. or uhmm, Angelo – Christian (wont date anyone whose name is in a way religious) P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C.
You stop deleting his name in your phonebook or in your address book to no avail because you know that you know his number or his email address by heart.
You stop checking out his profile while comparing yourself to the woman who’s with him in his uploaded pictures and while secretly hoping that like you, he’s also single and looking. Or, you stop posting all these messages in the Bulletin Board secretly wishing that he’ll read it and realize that he’s a prick for letting you go.
You start dating men without thinking of how your ex’ll react to seeing you with that other guy. You don’t date new guys just so you’ll have an accessory to your highly- anticipated plot of revenge against him for breaking your heart.
Lastly, your recent journal entries do not in any way include his name. There are no “I’m-so-over-him” articles like this and there are no “I-can’t-believe-I-was-in-love” rantings.

Oh shit.

Misery

White walls, air from a desk fan, music from the radio,
A personal computer’s beep, the telephone’s dial tone,
The aroma of a cup of coffee, a cd rack, picture frames
Everything’s perfect and I’m not part of everything.

Verticality

The skies are clear, clouds aren’t crying. I was one minute relaxing when I found myself falling. I can’t help but imagine how I can finally be one with the corals strong enough to provide shelter to my seemingly helpless existence. I’m slowly appreciating the façade that I made to stubbornly linger. From the violent currents, soft waves and cold breeze, I’m gliding and riding. Birds are chirping and distracting. I’m hearing schools of fish weep while patiently waiting. I’m like an angel falling.

This is a dance, I’m floating and just enjoying the rhythm.

There is No Conflict

Some activists love some economists because they
have the same ideals. Never would they
stay in their air-conditioned rooms,
shut their mouths about the
fight for greater state subsidy, wage hikes and unfeasible proposals expressed through pat-
riotic chants, passionate jingles, prop-
hetic rantings and passionate cries. ‘Wag Matakot! Makibaka!
Contrary to popular belief there is no conflict between them
Some economists love some activists because
whenever it’s time to sit down and talk
they’d rather rally in Mendiola, wearing red shirts every single day without
thinking of themselves.
Thoroughly analyzing the negative effects of such actions.
More people love activists because
they are more visible,thus demonstrating
in their humble ways
how more concerned they are than economists who exude apathy,
who are more anxious of their own welfare,
thinking of how they can make noise by capitalizing on mere theories
by not being open to the other side of the story.
There is
no
tension between them, there will
never
be a serious misunderstanding, because despite the-
fact that their ideas may clash, in the end, the-
ir common interests on achieving the betterment of the majority
will result to more stability and less
confusion will be manifested.I say, let things be.
What is life without a little tension?
We are all Filipinos,
to hell with the Fiscal crisis, to hell with the economic collapse,
to hell with differences in beliefs, to hell with the internal turmoil,
it’s time that we become more laid back,
forget about our problems, let’s
not even attempt to
continue fighting together for our future.
Whatis there to save anyway?
will we lose? That I don’t know.
I think we’re good losers. Don’t ask me. Why
are we in this together?
We’re Filipinos.
We’re Filipinos, that I’m sure of. There is
Mutual respect between Economists and activists. There is no
Conflict! it’s an old issue.
Parang issue ng alin ang nauna, itlog ba o manok?
We’ve got a bunch of newer concerns
but like the archive of the all-time fave issues
it’s never resolved, just pondered upon.

Natural!

“Gusto mo ba magkaanak?” My friend Atoy asked while munching on his Quarter Pounder. We were enjoying our meal in McDo after a sort of tiring process we had to go through to get my permit for the UP Law Aptitude Exam this Sunday.

“Natural!” Without really thinking about it, partly because I was concentrating on my chicken McDo and partly because I do want to have a child.

Then with wide eyes and a bewildered look he said, “Natural? Bakit natural? Why natural?”

“ Natural, bakit hindi? Because I want to have kids. Because I want to have a family.” I said, feeling the need to explain my side because I think I’m being judged. Haha, by Atoy, my dear friend.

“You’re like Carrie (Bradshaw, Sex and the City) , you tend to mix what you want with what the society dictates you should want.

That got me into thinking, what do I really want? did I say yes I wanna have kids because I felt pressured by the fact that it’s what’s expected of someone after she becomes successful with her career and gets married? How do we separate ourselves from what we truly want and what we want to just show people that we are living an ok life? In a world where everyone’s influenced by everyone, how do we make sure that WE ARE STILL LIVING A LIFE WE WANT? Are we decision makers or decision takers?

As for me, I do want to have kids. I’m even taking up Creative Writing for Children to make sure that I can write something for my kids someday. It is natural for me because I love having kids around but where did this come from? If I don’t end up getting married someday would I feel so shattered? What if I can't get pregnant, would adoption feel the same as actually bearing a child?

Errr, I don’t even have a man in my life. Why am I thinking of getting pregnant? Oh well, I guess it’s just me. now, back to my coffee crumble.

The Virgin(a sequel to the original short story)

“Krrrr-ii-nnnnggggg!” The alarm clock rang loudly as if it wanted to sink into Ms. Mijares’ mind. Slowly, she opened her eyes and tried to adjust to the dimness of the room.

“A dream.” She thought. Flashbacks came up, the whispers of admiration, whines, bodies entwining. She couldn’t help but fancy for it to be true. God knows how much she was willing to give up just to be lost in the man’s embrace once again. Then she felt a warm hand on her stomach, it wasn’t hers.

“Did you sleep well?” The man asked her flirtatiously, as he stroke Ms. Mijares’ hair. She turned to see if she really heard someone , and he was there, half-naked, sharing the bed with her. The carpenter, the man whom, in the darkness, she turned to , the man who made her flesh leap.

“I must be going, I’ll be late for work,” She struggled to get on her feet and absent-mindedly went inside the shower. She tried to conceal the panic that was creeping in her. “If you’re hungry just help yourself and get whatever you want from the kitchen.” She added, just before turning the shower on. She was shuddering, not because the water was cold but because what just happened wasn’t a dream but a reality. Then, her panic turned into nauseating happiness, her qualms were washed away as the water flowed through her body.

Thrilled, Ms. Mijares dressed up hurriedly and fervently looked for her man. Yet, he was nowhere to be found. She got her things and headed out, wondering.

At the office, she went directly to the shanty. Ato, her foreman, approached her with a bemused look. “Down here early Ms. Mijares?” he commented.

“I just wanted to check if things are okay in here, Ato,” she babbled while her eyes wandered around. “Are all the workers here now?”

“Why of course Ms. Mijares, they’re all here. Are you looking for someone in particular?” He interrogated.

Blushing, Ms. Mijares smiled and replied, “No ,just making sure.” She went back into her office, dismayed, while her mind was full of questioning thoughts.

Time passed and Ms. Mijares never heard a word from the carpenter. The man who snatched her virginity and showed her what she was missing. Every night came as a burden to her, knowing that she would long for his hands and the flame that they lit as he felt and caressed her. She felt used, taken for granted and juvenile; still, she wanted him to feel her once more. Then, the encounter came.

The sky was murky; clouds covered the night and the rain was hammering hard. She got into a jeepney, half-hoping she’d be lost again. “How are you, Ms. Mijares?” A familiar voice startled her.

“Mama, stop the jeep please.” She hurried out and walked as fast as she could. She was soaked and cold, tears of resentment and desire fell from her eyes. Then she felt a strong grasp on her arms.

“Where are you going? Why are you running away?” Finally, they were face to face. The man’s eyes made her drown into a pool of passion. He unleashed the emotions that were deep inside of her.

“How dare you ask me that! Don’t you think I should be the one asking these questions? Where did you go, you user!” She shouted, quivering. The man looked at her straight in the eyes, held her hand and sighed. “Don’t you dare touch me again! What would you do, say sorry and expect me to forgive you just like that?!” She was really crying hard, every word made her tremble.

“I got scared. I’m not asking you to forgive but you have to listen to me.” His eyes were red, tears were beginning to form. “I thought things happened too fast. There was too much passion, too much attraction. I didn’t know if I could handle it, I got scared that I might screw things up,” He explained with full emotion. “I’m sorry that I was such a coward, but please… give me the CHANCE.”

They looked into each other’s eyes. The rain poured with much vigor, the whole world turned into darkness. The wind blew hard, as the rain kissed the ground ardently, water and earth became one. The moon wasn’t there, but tomorrow, the sun will shine to give light to their lost hearts…

-The End-

Ego

Then,
T’ was once taken care of, lulled to sleep,
Fed like a baby so innocent and frail;
Now,
It’s crumpled, torn and thrown away.
My ego, my strength.. I’m strong no more.

It’s not THEM, it’s ME!

“Hey gurl! Everytime I see you, you always look so yummy.” My friend Sandi said while we were both looking at our reflections in the UP Faculty Center’s washroom.

“I know,” I jokingly replied while applying my favorite lip gloss.

Then she asked the forbidden question, “So, you have a Papa now?”

“ Nah, I don’t have one. Set me up with the men you know.” I was hoping she’ll say, Yeah, I know someone perfect for you.

But instead she said, “You look so intimidating kasi.”

End of story.

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I look intimidating, men wouldn’t date me..

I look intimidating because I’m yummy, men wouldn’t date me..
ALL TOGETHER NOW!

Eunice looks intimidating because she has great fashion sense, she looks so yummy, MEN WOULDN’T DATE HER.

I am a great catch, I know I’m intelligent, I look pretty ok, I’m the best you’ll ever have. I know YOU WOULDN’T DARE DATE ME..

Grrrrrrrrrr!

If I smell bad, and I’m really baduy and I’m totally dumb.. WOULD MEN start DATING ME?
Didn’t think so,, so what the hell am I supposed to do?

---------------------

I am freaking out, this world is really crazy..

Oooh, don’t look too good, you might scare men away. Oooh, don’t be too eloquent, you might scare men away.. Ooooh, why are you wearing that? It’s so last season, men don’t want baduy girls.. ooooh, don’t ever let these men know that you don’t know enough, they will take it against you.

-----------------

Aaaaaaaaargh, not a good day. NO MEN, NO DATE, NO HUMAN WARMTH.. Human warmth! I soooooooooo neeeeeed it….

Solitude

I would often say that I’m a social butterfly, that I love social interactions. That I don’t have problems with respect to relating to people and that I love to just plain mingle. Right now, I feel the exact opposite. I’m not really in the mood to get to know new people. I’m not even in the mood to meet up with my old friends. I don’t know why, but I am actually enjoying my solitude. My being a nobody in a world of somebody’s. I’m just enjoying my being invisible, my being the silent Eunice. Well, I still love making people laugh, I still enjoy conversations but lately, I’ve been finding myself enjoying my time with myself. Whether I’m shopping in my favorite ukay-ukay, or plain buying DVDs or just watching TV at home, I find it so rejuvenating. So refreshing, so relaxing. I guess I’m in my phase of my life where I’m slowly discovering how fun it is to give attention to MY NEEDS. This maybe the phase in my life where I just wanna keep my friends, cherish them and stop adding friends to my list of Friendsters. I don’t think this is mere bumming around, it’s knowing what matters.

Ever felt like you’re doing something not for the heck of it (like everyone says) but because you feel it’s a preparation for something big? That’s what I’m feeling, I’m here because I know I’m in for some tough times in the very near future.
My friend sent me an article in friendster. T’was about pseudo-relationships, flings, almost love stories. I couldn’t help but think how it has become the story of my life, I guess because I never really experienced the whole process of courtship. I’ve been very vocal about my not totally approving of the idea of courtship. That’s why my relationships lack commitment, they’re all too vague. That’s why I’m not sure if I’ve ever been truly in love. All symptoms of pseudo relationships are in my past almost love stories. Before, I would feel bad thinking that I’m just a meantime girl. the girl between the past love and the future love but never the present love. I dunno if it’s me or am I just meeting the wrong men? Why am I always stuck with, “enjoying each other’s company” and “plain hanging out (w/ occasional holding hands and cuddling)? Why do I always end up knowin about my guy’s intention after all traces of his intentions are gone? (yes, like this guy I thought wasn’t interested. He told me he was totally attracted, and he thought I knew). Who dictates what a pseudo-relationship and a real relationship is?

The Start of Another Season,,

I just finished watching all 18 episodes of Sex and the City’s Season 4 (today, yup.. im an official bum. Watchin dvd’s for 8 hours) and though I already know what’s gonna happen in seasons 5 and 6 I still couldn’t help but feel bad for Carrie Bradshaw. The season ended with Big leaving New York, I was struck by what Charlotte said. That she thought Carrie and Big’ll end up together because though they made mistakes, they’re meant for each other. It’s just so weird because lately, I’ve been hearing Alicia Keys and User’s My Boo everywhere. “ there’s always that one person that will always have your heart. You’ll never see it coming ‘coz you’re blinded from the start.” Err, sorry can’t relate. I would’ve believed that about two years ago when I was agonizing on my alleged love for my so-called best guy friend, but now, looking back.. I don’t think there’s any guy in my past that I would want to end up with. Not even my long time crush, “one-moment-he’s-here-one-moment-he’s-nonexistent” childhood fantasy. Am I too jaded? Am I really blinded? Just like Carrie, should I be involved with Aidan “too good to be true”, the Jazz guy, Jack “insecure” Berger and the Russian “totally rich and artsy” guy first before I finally get reunited with Big? Who is BIG in my life anyway?

I’ve always wanted Carrie and Big to be together, Big is the epitome of a man I would want to end up with. He makes Carrie think, he is financially-stable, funny at times, always there when Carrie needs him, doesn’t drool over Carrie and is good in bed. I would want someone who will call me Kiddo without looking at me like I’m one inexperienced woman. I want a guy who can spend the night with me and really talk to me. Someone who’ll have control over me without totally shoving it to my face. Someone who’ll also play “Moon river” out of nowhere thinking that it isn’t corny but “CLASSIC”. I guess I’m a hybrid of Carrie and Miranda. I’m a future lawyer anyway, so in no time, I would have to think and act like Miranda. I don’t even think if it’s a good combination since I don’t have a Steve in my life who would still wanna give me a “mercy-fuck” when I’m pregnant and horny without a husband. (creepy) just like Miranda, I’m not really into the whole Baby Shower thing, I don’t think I would want to give my career up for my love life, not even for a great family life. I don’t think I’ll be a plain housewife.

It’s funny that now I’m admitting all these things. Not too long ago, I was ok with the idea of totally concentrating on a family life if ever I get married. But now, I have changed. I don’t see anything wrong with same sex marriage anymore, and I don’t think it should be a matter of religion. I don’t see anything wrong with divorce anymore especially now that I’m aware of how many marriages are just not working. I’m not against premarital sex anymore (though I’m still not doing it) because I know a lot of wonderful people who are doing it and are in no way living shitty lives. I don’t see women who had abortion as totally sinful persons because for as long as what they did became an eye-opener for them and it became a reminder for them to be responsible for their actions then I guess the guilt and anguish that they had to go through made them suffer enough. I don’t take it against people that they’re atheists anymore because just like me, they just chose to take the path that they think would be more appropriate for them. In fact I admire them for surviving a life which isn’t dependent on miracles. I must admit that this is far from the Eunice that I once knew, but whether I want to admit it or not, I like the new Eunice more.

I guess through the years, I have become more open to a lot of things. Just like the evolution of my love for Sex and the City, I have evolved into someone who isn’t too judgmental. Someone who acknowledges that my beliefs don’t represent and should never represent the beliefs of other people. I’d like to think I’ve become more tolerant, more level-headed. I’m ready to try new things now, I’m not getting any younger. I don’t know if I’ll find my Big, I don’t know if I’ll be as tough as Miranda, or as sexually-satisfied as Samantha or as family-oriented as Charlotte, nobody knows. But hey, I can always watch my DVDs and try to look back when I’m 30 that when I was twenty, I was intelligent enough to stop and think. Err, I wish I can write for Vogue too.

Now, where can I download the MP3 of Moon river?