JUNE 12, 2004 (SATURDAY)
It's a strange sort of euphoria. It's not like anything I've ever experienced before - it was a mixture of relief, and of the world suddenly righting itself up again.
Right after we broke up, I asked God to give me a sign. Now God and I, we don't have a pretty good relationship - I don't visit Him that often, and while I don't question the tenets of the belief system, it's the human practices that I sometimes have a hard time dealing with. At any rate, so God and I talked. And during the course of our conversation, I asked Him to give me a sign and tell me that everything will be okay between the two of us. And I told Him to make it something that's glaringly obvious, to hit me right smack dab on the head. And to make it something white - because I wanted a canvas to work with again, something clean and new and pristine.
Today, when I espied his back at the tambayan, I quickly asked Maia to go on ahead while I took refuge at the library. And while walking underneath a sky miraculously free of rainclouds, I remembered that he was wearing a white shirt. I look down: and yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was wearing the only white blouse I owned.
If that wasn't a sign, then I truly must be dense.
And so, after going to the library and getting my books for thesis (I wasn't going to pass up the chance to be a good student for a change) I go back to the tambayan - and no one was there. So I text Maia again, and Dell just to make sure, and ask them if he's with them, and if he was willing to talk to me. Then I go off to French class, and come back and wait.
When he comes back, he doesn't have that hard, defensive look in his eyes anymore. We go to another tambayan, and as soon as we sit down, he hugs me tight and whispers in my ear, "Friends?"
And of course, I apologize like crazy and he tells me it's okay - and those were the words I've been waiting for all this time. And then we start catching up on each others' lives, and while there were some rough patches and awkward silences, I think that the universe is slowly righting itself up again.
I think I've grown a solid backbone after these past few weeks. And I think that, inspite of all these shit, what doesn't kill you makes you a better person. And at this point, I think it'll take a katana blade to actually make me feel any sort of pain. It's not a bad sort of numbness; just the kind that you can take shelter in, that you can tell yourself it's going to be all right in the end because you've been there, done that.
So tonight, the universe makes a strange sort of parallelism from the days of watching Lan Yu at Greenbelt 3 during Dell's birthday and now here I am again with him, Dell, and Caloy (another gay friend of ours) cruising along SM North Edsa and having dinner, talking and watching them smoke, and watching the last full show of HP3. The only part I was having difficulty with was physically orienting myself around him: how do you know if the distance or the closeness is enough? But I've missed moments like this, and I've missed these slippages of inanities and wisdom that comes from these people. I might not look it, guys, but I do listen when you talk.
We'll see what happens next. I'm nervous about this, but I'm also excited. It's a good kind of free fall.
Yes. The dreaded word.
Watch me plunge right in. I do have ideas already, and I've checked out a couple of books from the library that I'm hoping might help. I felt like Hermione Granger earlier, toting around at least three large books with me, as well as my usually acocuntrements of a large hardcover notebook and plastic file case that has been with me since third year high school.
But I think I will have to work doubly hard this semester. Apparently, the ideas floating around my head will have to be carefully thought out, and my other classes require a lot of reading/writing work, and a lot of brain power. English 191 by itself is a bit too much to swallow - who knew that teaching college English requires a number of theories that blend together education and the craft of writing?
Also excited about the structures of my writing classes - at least I won't be the lone fish swimming into an unknown ocean without even a forgetful Dory reciting "P. Sherman, Wallaby Way" to guide me. And then of course integrated French scares the hell out of me, but I don't have much of a choice, do I? Not at this point, when I know I'll have to graduate in a year and still running for honors. And because I know I won't forgive myself if I don't write a thesis that I can be proud of.
And of course, there's GRAIL, and friends, and work, and a life that I can finally lead and breathe into. And if this isn't going to be an interesting year, then God knows what it'll be.