Burning Bridges

Yesterday, when I went to my pdoc I expected to tell her a very long anecdote on all the events she missed since I last took a visit. But of course I was only able to tell not even a fourth of a story. I told her the gist, the titles of each chapter, the lines out of context. She gave me a speech about how I should get more control, make healthier choices, and get a better lifestyle. She emphasized on taking care of my relationships with others, I shouldn't act on something just because I had the impulse to. She said that "this" is not an excuse and I should check if maybe there are also "personality factors" involved. That I wouldn't want to burn bridges with people close to me and have no one in the future.

I was pissed off at first. If there's anything I have always been scared of was "this" would become an excuse. I'd like to think I'm afraid of that more than anybody. And I have always wanted to think that I've been doing great despite "this". Maybe not so great, but hey, the last few weeks have been some of the worst weeks of my life and I'm still here. I still have a job, I'm not "living the summer", I haven't had sex with a stranger.

Truth is, I know what she means. I may still be here but my relationship with other people have been crumbling. Maybe it is more about being tactless, proud, and selfish than having bipolar disorder. Maybe I am the problem. Maybe it is time for an attitude check. Maybe I am really not capable of human relationships because I'm impossible, unlovable, and self-righteous. I am never satisfied and always disappointed with other people.

Even I would want to burn the bridge between myself.

Last Nite

What's the point of living when you are not even allowed to be yourself?

The things that these meds do to us. We eventually lose our "self" while it is replaced by something that everybody thinks is "better" because it fits what is "normal".

I'll write more about this later. Right now, I'm too tired.

Crashing

I am tired of mania. I've been like this for almost two weeks. I actually thought that I was having a pretty normal mood today until my father and I had a big fight because of my stupid mouth. I couldn't control my temper, I was shaking and was about to cry when we were only debating about politics.

Now I am just disappointed with myself. Fuck this. Nothing's going right lately. I am hopeless.

Admission

For the first time, I told someone today that I nearly got myself killed (techinically, tried to kill myself) last Thursday. I don't think I should have told her. I do trust her, but I don't think she understands. I know I should accept that not everyone would understand and that sometimes they would say the wrong things, but sometimes I just don't like hearing the wrong things.

I will just have to remind myself that they only mean well and if I feel that they don't understand, I should properly inform them about BD and what it's like to have it.

Well, good luck.

Do You Know?

Boring people bore me. Now's the best time to go to an amusement park. SOMEBODY!

A Follow-Up on Iron Man 3: Not a Review

I have written about what I think and, more importantly, how I feel about Iron Man 3. But what I realized, a short moment after I published the post was it wasn't so much as Guy Pearce's character, Aldrich Killian, that gave the film its flaws. It was, on the bigger picture, the tug-of-war between the Shane Black storytelling and the Marvel formula. The supervillain is the most obvious, but not the only, victim of this ambiguity. Shane Black is a brilliant director but he had to make Ironman 3 within the confines of the superhero genre, particularly Marvel. So the film feels a little bit confused and arbitrary in this regard. It's a beautiful psycho-realistic film one moment and then a cliched superhero movie the next. Personally, I would have preferred Shane Black to have had taken full control of the steering wheel.

Nevertheless, Iron Man 3 is still both a gem to behold in today's film industry and one of the best rollercoaster rides I've ever been on. An example of what entertainment should be, fun but not brainless. Other moviemakers should learn from it.

Throw-up Thursday Part 2

(The Bad Parts)

She couldn't take it anymore. "Punch me!," he said. She punched him. "Good! Hit me! Hit me more!" Confused, angry, and frustrated, she hit him. She punched him, again and again. Exhausted, she stopped. He shouted at her, hurt her with his words, provoked her. She begged him to stop, sobbing and shouting. She couldn't take it anymore. It went on  for a while, him shouting, her punching him, kicking him to the ground, hitting the wall, shouting and crying. She felt angry, hurt, helpless. She was in so much pain inside but there was nothing she could do but cry and yell and hope that something would make it all stop. Then she heard something coming. She knew what she wanted. She ran straight and fast toward the source of the sound. He ran after her. She saw the headlights turning the corner, she ran faster. He caught up and pulled her away right before she collided with the truck. She cried again.

Shaking

I hate my ex. I hate him from the core of his heart up to the tips of his hair. But I still hang out with him. We still sleep together, do things together, and can't spend a day without seeing each other.

I want to quit. But, there's the quintessential question--how?
I am tired of getting hurt over and over again. And I am tired of being pushed to the brink of both mania and depression.
He loves my friends. I hate his friends.
He adores my family. I abhor his family.
He's not good for me and I'm not good for him.

I wish for the will to stay away from him. So be it.

Throw-up Thursday Part 1

The Good Parts

On Thursday, I was supposed to see my doctor. But I didn't have money so I had our appointment postponed. Welcome to the Third World.

In the evening, I met with my bestfriend because she was leaving for Europe the next day. I missed her so much and I regret not making the effort to see her the past weeks. But I had also been a big mess, so there's that.

I dragged C to a gig in the South where an old friend was playing. It was a good night, nothing eventful, just good company and a chill ambiance, except for one funny moment.

Earlier in the evening, my bestfriend was teasing me on how I reminded her of Zooey Deschanel (particularly her character in the New Girl) and it escapes her understanding why I do not like the actress. Jesse and I are both socially awkward and a total klutz, she says. I couldn't think of anything to snap back at her at the time except to tell her that again, I do not like Zooey Deschanel.

Later that night, at the gig, I was trying to be poised and all. It is also worth noting that I was wearing a dress. But because this is me, I can only try, and try in vain. I still walked, sat, talked, and moved definitely not like a lady by society's definition.

At one point, when C and I decided to go to the bar to get a beer, I passed by this guy friend of mine (a puppy love who I haven't seen in 10 years), he was deep in conversation with someone. I tried to catch his attention, very slyly. I gave him a quick pat on the arm when I passed by him, which I thought was very cool of me. He gave me a nod and a "Hey." then went back talking to his friend. I was suave, I thought. Then I fell. I didn't notice the step in front of me. I fell and yelled "Fucker!" I was back on my feet when he turned around. He was like, "What happened?" The friend he was having a conversation with answered, "She fell." I smiled quite awkwardly and walked towards the bar. I waited for C very anxiously but he never came, so I had to go back to the table and ask him what's taking him so long. Then I walked towards the bar again, passing by them again.

Things like this only happen to me.

---

Throw-up Thursday Part 2, The Bad Parts soon.

I want to die again and again a hundred times over.

Straight and Fast

Dear World,

I nearly got myself killed today.

It was a long day.

There was an attempt to get an ID.
I dyed my hair burgundy.
I went to a gig in a faraway place.
We fought on the way home.
Then it happened.

How could I have even done such a thing?

Only one answer: straight and fast.

Love,
Me

Damn.

But no matter how hard I try to do the self-pity thing, fact remains my libido is still way up there. Must. Take. Control. Until. Mania. Ends.

BTW,

I've been hanging out with my ex again and yes, we have sex. I feel guilty because I know that this is going to lead us both nowhere. I just don't want to think about it right now. Because, again, I feel like I can handle anything. Which next week's depressive episode will probably prove me otherwise.

Oh, well. At least for now, hakuna matata.

View Blog

I've been manic lately (obviously, if you follow my posts). My self-confidence was at its peak, sex drive was bursting out of the thermometer, and superhero and superego tendencies were worse than it ever was.

Just now, I took a moment to look at myself at the mirror. I'm very average-looking, I'm too thin, I have chicken legs, knobby knees, no hips,and a non-existent ass, and I've got a horrible smile because of my braces.

Now I think,
What a horrible point of view to have while being manic.

Running in my head

i grabbed the knife and shoved it down
the throat of the little thing
i spliced its chest and pulled the heart
out of the lifeless piece of meat

really frustrated and mad. i don't even want to take my meds today. i want to allow myself to drop everything and do stupid things.

Tony Stark Triggered My Mania: Not a Review

I watched Ironman 3 today. I usually check Rotten Tomatoes after seeing a film. Not this time though.

Yes, I'm taking Ironman 3 personally. Yes, I find the feelings of the movie more compelling than the nitty-gritty stuff other people would probably be raving about. I'm not doing that, because with Ironman films, it's a given: they're all good--great, actually--technically and story-wise. Perfect action scene choreography, stunning visual effects, witty dialogues, and so on and so forth.

It goes without saying that Ironman 3 was better than its predecessors in a lot of ways. As expected, it was darker and more mature. Usually, this works. In this case, it worked perfectly. It was no longer a brainlessly entertaining, technically superb action movie. This one's a work of art. It was more grounded in reality vis-a-vis its superhero-movie counterparts. It had an attempt to be socially critical. I'm not sure if that was intentional or if it was just to make a good plot. (With Hollywood films, you never know--with "Hollywood" being the operative word. Case in point, The Hunger Games.) Nevertheless, it did the movie and the entire humanity a favor.

The film started out establishing Tony Stark's weaknesses. That he was after all, like all of us, human. It wasn't like in the first two installments where his character was designed to purposely invite idolatry (like all superheroes) in spite and including his decadence and other negative virtues. In this film, Tony Stark's character and emotions were vulnerably exposed in a very precise and brilliant storytelling (straightforward but not overly dramatic, unlike the the portrayal of Bruce Wayne, Peter Parker, Clark Kent--you get the idea.) Notable was his battle with trauma and anxiety over what happened in New York. Most of us have had to deal with something like this, and like all of us, he was scared to deal with it and the stigma that comes with it. We are, after all, including the great Tony Stark, subjective beings. The movie was filled with scenes and layers reflective of this and although they were not hard to miss, they were very subtle, tightly told, and never excessive.

Having said that, the main protagonist in this movie was Tony Stark, not Ironman.

Now, the problem, in so many ways--Aldrich Killian. We all get the character. He's both stereotypical and not. We've seen him before. Only this time, there's that political spin. He was the good-guy-gone-bad type of villain, except he happened to take advantage of the current global issues with "terrorism". In real life though, it's not the regular guy. It's the people who are actually seated in power who commit these types of crimes. It was a good spin to the story, that much I can say. Anonymity and the power it gives to a person is a very timely concept to tackle. His character could have been more established though. Really, a fan who had his heart broken by his "idol" who stood him up? That just sounds like Syndrome in The Incredibles. Killian was just so typical that the portrayal of Guy Pearce was so bland his were the only boring scenes of the movie. Because we all knew what he was going to say, we could predict what he was going to do. He was the only one who made an attempt to explain why he's doing the things he's doing. Duh. Fine, he was smart, but not cunning. He lacks the charm of a villain. He's not even that much hate-able, he was just there, a villain performing his villainous duties. This exactly is his human factor, though told poorly.

Pepper Potts was something else though. First off, you must know how much I have always hated the character of Mary Jane. She's the pretty girl the awkward boy bagged because he was nice. Her only role was too be sad, complain about her life, and be rescued. We all know the damsel in distress trope runs rampant and can be found in almost every superhero story. Then there's the shallow Black Widow portrayal of Scarlett Johannson whose sole purpose was too be a beautiful foreign girl who kicks ass. On the other hand, there's the hero's female servant who was just there to provide support and sometimes information and words of wisdom (e.g. Moira MacTaggert in X-Men: First Class). And in comes Pepper Potts, a strong, powerful, and confident female character, with all her charm and brains.She stands her ground and has never regarded Tony Stark as her hero. In this movie, she herself was a hero. A very humble, grounded, and humane hero.

What hits hard in the story is the relationship of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. It was too real that we never expected something like it to be found in a superhero movie. We usually see these kinds of romantic relationship and emotional struggles in films that are actually dedicated to romantic relationships and emotional struggles. I don't want to spoil the ending but it was so epic (yes, I'm using the word epic) I cried.

After everything, I cannot classify Ironman as a superhero movie anymore. Sure it was, if you want to be technical. But it was also much more than that. It was even much more than most films we've seen lately.

---

EDIT: A follow-up here.

Tony Stark Triggered My Mania

I'm being manic again so I asked C for a valium.

Okay, I started typing this about an hour ago. Now I'm too "sabaw" to even type.

That was a fast depressive episode.

I'm back up again. This is not good. Fuckity fucky fuck.

Wow

I'm sad and restless. Wow.

Sad because I feel like my life is shit and I'm not worth shit. I know this is the depression talking and would probably be looking back in a week's time wondering why I ever thought this. But right now, everything just feels like shit, turd. poop.

I am restless of this "production team". I am becoming impatient and I'm not even doing anything to speed things up. I wish I find the will to do this again, the trust for my workmates, and the faith that all the hard work is going to be worth it.

---

Truthfully? I hate people who brag. Being proud is one thing, but actual bragging, without being humorous of course, is just one of those things I can't stand. Well, I guess I do have virtues. Now that I think about it, I do believe in the Desiderata, and try to live by it as much as I can (when I'm not being a stupid maniac). It's my very own "EXCELSIOR".

---

I feel guilty because it seems to me that I'm indulging in my sadness. The last thing I want is for people to think that I'm using my mood disorder as an excuse. So I must remember to be my own advocate [cue feel-good song]

Spare me the stress

I had no intention of telling you. Because I don't want to get stressed about something not worth it. I wanted to tell you last night so you could say sorry and I could forget about it in the morning. I didn't.  I told you today. So instead  of the apology I was hoping for you wanted to explain that you didn't do anything wrong.

I guess nothing has really changed between us.

I shouldn't have told you. We were happy being label-less and without-definition. I could have easily passed off something like that because there's no "relationship" to be salvaged in the first place. I am not even sad anymore, knowing that we would never be happy together together. I'm just sad that we can't even be happy while being "label-less" together.

My words aren't worth anything though. We both know I'm using you. I shouldn't be one to talk. That's why I wasn't even mad. You were just supposed to say you're sorry, and we both would have moved on. But you didn't, so we didn't. And here we are, stuck between heaven and hell.

---

This best summarizes our entire four-year relationship:

Good morning, haring araw.

I told myself I'm skipping summer. I wanted to spend less because I wanted to get that camera by June. But is it worth it? Who does that? Who skips summer?

Suddenly I find myself wishing I was somewhere else. Somewhere far. Somewhere not here.

I miss summer. Summer's my time, my season, my thing. I am summer personified. I am the morning's pink, yellow, orange and the night's blue, black, and red. I am the scorching sun piercing your skin. I am the sunflowers along the University Avenue. I am the endless nights of getting wasted. I am the rambutan falling from the tree. I am the waves that wash ashore. I am the sweet escape. I am not forever but I'm the one you never forget.