Changing the way I LIVE.

The craziest part about life is perhaps its tendency to be unpredictable. I'm still trying to grapple with the idea of constant change - but the more that I try to keep up, the more that I feel lost. I don't think there is any way I can ever be a step ahead of life, maybe because as humans, we simply can't. These past couple weeks I've dealt with grief, exuberance, confusion - all at the same time. I've been dreaming of bizarre situations that involve stray bullets and death, and I have no idea what to make of it. Sometimes I find myself waking up in the middle of the night crying, and my poor husband has no choice but to pull himself together at 2am and hold me half asleep. I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but I realize that if I want to rid myself of these negative thoughts, I really have to admit one thing: that I'm terrified of death.

We hear it all the time, people yapping about how life is short, vulnerable, and blah, blah, blah. But when emotion takes me over and I'm pissed about the weather, or my hair, I temporarily forget what life is really about. I'm sure I am not the only one who feels this way - many of us tend to spend our days thinking about everything else BUT the fragility of life, and we start acting like spoiled brats. I can only imagine what God thinks of this, and it makes me feel a little bit ashamed that I spend a huge part of my day complaining about trivial things when the big picture hangs beautifully behind me, waiting for my appreciation. There are many things in this world that make me sad, but nothing can make me as inconsolable as the idea of losing the people I love.

So I've made a pact with myself: I want to BE MORE. Be more loving, be more patient, be more caring, be more understanding. And for a certified biatch that's a pretty big deal, so I'm proud of myself. I want to BE MORE so I can DO MORE. At least if I'm busy loving, caring and being more patient, I won't have to deal with being terrified.♥

Breaking Point.

It's an hour and a half past noon, and I have just woken up.

My stomach feels weird - although I have an inkling that the snickers bar and the two twixes I engulfed this morning could have something to do with it. I temporarily forget what day it is, then I remember - oh, it's Thursday, and my mind quickly floats away into oblivion. I don't even have to remind myself what I'm doing today because it's the same as yesterday - work. Little by little, I can feel my life losing purpose. I'm bored, agitated, depressed. My husband, exasperated by my constant bouts of pessimism, can offer me no consolation. It is impossible to comfort me - unless you are a new, more fulfilling job or an acceptance letter to graduate school. I close my eyes, try to go back to sleep, and fail miserably.

In many ways, I am blessed. It is a proven fact that I somehow refuse to believe. These days I can only see walls, hurdles and impossibilities - and for some reason, I cannot comprehend the idea that there are good things beyond those barriers. I've become a sourpuss, so I live everyday hoping it's not my last and impatiently wait for change to happen. It's all so... pathetic.

I live in a room where the sun barely shines, and work at a job that takes up all my time.

I'll stop here before I end up writing a song. Damn. Even my writing is starting to crumble. 

If My Life Were Different...

The last post I wrote dates back to a little less than three months ago, which embarrassingly reveals that life got in the way of my writing.  I guess in a way, it has. Over the past couple months, I became insanely busy with my job (who knew waitressing could take a toll on your life?), got married, and gave birth to twins. Just kidding. Although the first two are correct, there is no way I'm becoming a mom anytime soon. I'm way too much of a baby to have one of my own - or at least my husband thinks so. He says he can't handle more than one kid at a time. I totally concur.

One could definitely say that my life has turned a complete 360 since the day I graduated from college. During one of my blessed days off, I laid in bed, stared at my beautiful diploma hanging on the wall and immediately began to cry. I felt like I was going insane, crying on my day off like a little baby. But I knew deep down inside that my tears were well justified - I was weeping because I felt extremely empty. In today's economy, everyone knows that any job (regardless of whether you hate it or not) IS a dream job. Yet somehow, my feelings of emptiness and disdain were eating me up inside. I've never felt so unhappy in my entire life. A year ago I was a straight-A student with the brightest future - and that day I felt like a grumpy waitress with deflated dreams. Facebook definitely adds insult to injury, because somehow, you see that everyone else around you is doing so well you actually consider fastening a noose for yourself. "Shirley got into Yale, Pete's in Paris, Jonathan just climbed the peak of mount everest," - Oh god what a great way to encourage suicide! I sobbed even harder when I imagined what my REAL status would actually say; "Bianca spends her days carrying food trays."  What a life I lead.

If only someone told me that life is harder in the real world (actually many people have told me this, I was just being foolishly optimistic). I used to gaze at the sky during my breaks from class, imagining my future life in LA, writing funny, witty content for a popular TV series. Who knew I'd be far from it? Who knew I'd be married at 23, working full time at a restaurant that gets trashed on YELP by some ruthless hater who probably has never been there? Who knew? I guess I was the only one who didn't know. We never really know how our life is going to turn out until we live it. And though I've described mine in the most depressing manner possible - I can somehow say that I'm thankful. I may be unhappy with my job but it pays for my student loan, and I do come home to the best guy in the world, so I guess it's not all bad.

It'd be better if I was in LA though.

The Realest of Love.

"How many times have you fallen in love?", I asked, hoping to hear the word 'once'.

"Twice", he said.  Twice, I thought, my heart, sinking a little as I looked into his eyes and attempted to induce a change in response.  For a quick second there I felt a slight sense of disappointment, finding out that he had fallen in love prior to meeting me. Then he said something that changed my world forever -

"But ours is different. I feel like this - this, is real love."

Real love - the concept still clamoring in my head. I had never experienced it before either, and he pulled it right out of my mouth. That's what made our love so different, so unique; the fact that it was real. We spend hours upon hours a week talking about ourselves to each other, discovering hidden truths, untold secrets and enchanting kiddy stories from our pasts. We discuss our futures endlessly, planning our lives ahead like strategic analysts, hiding our fears of financial failure behind optimistic eyes. We argue too - and oh hell, do we argue; about the silliest things that don't even deserve arguing, like why he doesn't keep his car warm when I'm in it or why I don't ever put my shoes away properly. But underneath it all, underneath his snarkiness and my brattiness, the realness of our love surfaces the way oil does with water - you can see it and feel it. Somehow, the term "madly in love" just doesn't cut it...because I feel like there's more to it than that.

I love him in a way I myself can't even explain. He loves me the way I've always dreamt somebody would - and I couldn't be luckier. I come home to the greatest man I've ever known after a shitty day at work, and when I crawl into bed and rest my head on his shoulders, my fears, my worries, and all the pain I've ever felt just goes away and I feel free. 

FREE.

The realest of love has set me free.

Expensive Happiness.

I wonder if happiness comes at a price.

I say this because I feel guilty for being happy, excited and optimistic. I feel guilty because the ones closest to me don't really feel the same way about their lives - and when I think about the good things that are happening to me, I am interrupted by sudden thoughts of their current dispositions, and I feel worse knowing there is nothing I can do to help. I don't want to be selfish and ignore them; and even though it is probably easiest to do that, I find myself constantly looking back - and I'm afraid that if I keep going like this, I'll end up neglecting myself and the dreams I've long been nurturing.

My happiness does come at a price...and I'm slowly realizing that I may not be able to afford it.

Who Knew?

It was Fall 2008, and I remember being so devastated that things weren't turning out the way I wanted them to. The guy I was so hung up on wasn't quite hung up on me, and I was growing increasingly agitated feeling so rejected, dejected and ultimately UNWANTED. I felt like the universe was conspiring against me, and that somehow, some folks up in the heavens were having too much fun watching me force myself into a situation that was so obviously not meant for me. I never actually thought I'd be saying this, but I'm really glad that those folks found amusement in my desolate situation, and yes, I'm thankful for the conspiracy as well, because now, things are just as they should be - and for good reason! We are now happily in love with other people, and if we decided to force a relationship out of each other that time, we might have missed the chance to meet the people we were actually meant to be with.

So I'm really glad David and I didn't work out, and I'm sure he is too. Who knew our parting would turn out to be the greatest thing that ever happened to both of us?♥ 

Where Can I Buy Some Wit?

I just realized that my writing has been nothing but terrible and incredibly self-absorbed.

How depressing.

Somehow I always find myself wanting to drop my head in shame after reading other writers' rants. They all seem so much more interesting, so much wittier and so much snarkier than me. Then I read the Juno screenplay again yesterday and felt even more of a loser (I was in the process of writing a new draft of my own) - I don't know how I could channel some Diablo Cody energy and be as smart and sassy a writer as she. For a moment there, I felt like a deadbeat wannabe scribe. 

They say many writers feel this way; miserable and forever discontent about their own craft. Nothing is ever good enough. Someone else is always better, and someone's work will always be superior to one's own. But I guess that's how life is, you look out and often find something better and more enticing, when in reality someone else from the outside is probably looking at you. So we're all just in this endless cycle of looking outward back and forth, staring at each other, deciding that the other's fate is better than ours. Humans are such complicated beings.

I think the only solution to my "writer's low self-esteem" problem is to believe that I am actually capable of being witty, snarky and clever. And if that doesn't work I'll just pretend that I AM all of those things...and MORE. And if that still doesn't work, then I'll just give up writing altogether.

or... NOT.