Every (Romantic) Relationship is a Long-distance Relationship

You know how thoughts just randomly pop up in your head just when you decide to call it a night and get some much-needed sleep? Last night, a thought came to me: every relationship is practically a long-distance relationship... unless you're living together with the one you love and you're both with each other 24/7.

It's like this: sure, you can go to your partner anytime any day as long as your car (good for you) or public transportation (yay for us) will take you there. For me, personally, that's the easy part. What's worse is knowing that you still have to go on home after some time. The hardest part is leaving her so I can rest up and be able to go to work the next day. It becomes about trying to squeeze out every single second out of every date so that the time between meetings become shorter.

I think it gets even worse for lovers who work (or go to school) together, what with the thought that the person you care for the most is just a room or even a row away, and you can't spend time with him or her simply because you both have stuff to do. That's just pure torture.

Of course, I know that people who are in actual long-distance relationships really do have it hard. I can just imagine trying to save up for airfare just to visit someone overseas for a few days. What more for those who really won't be able to book even one flight? For those who can make this work, I salute you and I believe in you.

Still, this doesn't offset the fact that every relationship has a long-distance feel to it. Distance is relative, sure, but if you cut it down to a simple yes or no question if you're with the one you love or not, then how many miles apart you are is irrelevant. I'll always feel the distance as long as her arms are not around me and I can't feel the lovely rhythm of her heartbeat as we're locked in an embrace.

I know I always look forward to Saturdays, when I can be with my girl and just spend the whole day doing whatever. It doesn't matter--as long as I'm with her, anything's fine [It's just a bonus we have shows we're both interested in]. I'm surprised I can even get work done at all, what with the thought of the weekend always threatening to occupy my mind.

Enough with this. I might not be making sense anymore. Anyway, here's to hoping we can make all our long-distance relationships work.

On Expensive Interests, or Why the Hell Couldn't I Just Stick to Drawing?

Kicks. Tech. Magic: the Gathering Online.

These are hobbies and interests that don't come cheap. Alas, these are the three things I mostly concern myself with these days.

If I had a penny for every single sneaker or basketball shoe I've told myself I'd get when I had the dough, I'd be rich enough to buy at least one of those shoes. If I'd only be content with some passable netbook or a vanilla Nokia, I'd have more cash on my bank account at the moment. If it wasn't so exciting drafting a new expansion/core set once it hits MTGO, my PayPal account wouldn't be in the red.

Yet, I find it hard to stay away.

Wake Me Up When 2010 Ends

2010, for me, was not a very good year.

It is not a year I would look back on fondly, with tears in my eyes and with the kind of nostalgia one normally reserves for totally epic milestone years.

I almost got a life-threatening illness. My mom was practically diagnosed with a couple of those. My girlfriend's dad died, prompting me and her to shoulder the astronomical tuition fee of that godforsaken nursing school in Las Piñas, apart from the emotional stress she had to endure for confidential reasons. This was supposed to be my year. Our year. When everything fell into place. Yet, the only things that fell seemed to be shattered pieces of a dream that now seems so far off in the distance.

No. This time, I decided, there won't be any looking back.

But then I remember that there were good things, too, that are worth remembering.

I remember the hands that held me as I lay swollen and barely recognizable on a hospital bed. I remember the friendly faces that smiled at me even though I would rather have not taken so much of their time and effort to see me. I remember the guy who out of the blue came and helped me by donating the blood that flowed through his veins. I remember finally getting my due for the work I've put in at my company. I remember holding my girl as she wept, knowing that I was all she had at the time, and that I knew I would be there for her forever no matter what it took--and that she would do the same for me.

These are the only things I am willing to look back on, 2010. Nothing more, nothing less. I have so much to be thankful for right now, and I will work toward my goals to ensure that I can take care of the very same people who continue to take care of me.

2011. Can't wait.

A Slave to My Wage

The diamonds on your necklace are an elaborate choke chain
You’re a dog tied to a leash; you’re a slave to your wage
You sold your soul for something you never will obtain
Every syllable you speak is weak, you have nothing to say

- from We're Here to Save the Day by The Constellations (feat. Asher Roth)

That's me, in a nutshell.

That's also why I write on this blog now. I simply want to avoid not having something to say, something for myself. I spit out thousands of words each day for people I barely know, so it's nice to have a little nook all for me where I can just let go.

Just Wondering

What's the point of posting anonymously when you're going to be obvious about who you are, anyway?

3:00AM

It's 3 in the morning and I'm still awake. I've slipped through a couple of half-dazed, half-asleep states already, and at this point there is really nothing left in my tank. My mind is blanker than the empty page on which a measly little cursor blinks in and out of sight.

Ah, the empty page.

Just a little recap of the past 19 hours: I churned out 18 200-word copies at work, went to town on 4 500-word articles, and have finished another copy before fighting another bout of heavy-eyelid syndrome. That's at least 5,800 words right there, in less than a day. And yet here I am, still typing away.

Is it for a lack of anything to do? I'm busy as hell; in fact, I don't think the devil himself is willing to subject himself to a 6,000-word day.

Maybe it's just because I just want to write. I've been doing the mindless, automatic shit for far too long (though admittedly not as long as others) that the writer in me, for all his pretensions and failed aspirations, is struggling to see the light of day.

Here you go, self. Here's your little piece of freedom. Now that you've gotten this far, well... at this point, I realize that it's 3:08, and 8 more copies are still on my plate. Freedom, once again, will have to wait.