missed communication

I've not really learned how to talk to people. Although maybe it's more reasonable to say that I don't know how to carry proper conversations, because I can read body language, facial expressions, silences, and other non verbal cues and usually manage to go from there. My problem has to do with what to say to people to keep a volley of conversation going without confusing them. Because my brain has a tendency to jump to numerous directions, obsess over words or phrases, or gloss over words which make it seem like I am not paying attention or just cause me to respond with a weird comeback.

I go back and forth topics, talk too fast, giggle, and sometimes wonder about things out loud and confuse other people. I confuse other people and possibly offend some at times although that is never my intention. I say things that may seem unrelated to what we're speaking about but they are if you fast forwarded the conversation and arrived to that particular avenue, like word games and correlations and how everything is related to one another. Like how if I say star I could mean a plasma energy seen in space, a drawn picture depicting a star, a celebrity, or how it sounds like a cross between the words 'stare' and 'tar'.

Words are fascinating and putting them in a string to form phrases and sentences and letters and books and conversations are amazing. But words are also confusing and sometimes halfway a conversation you don't even realize that what you say or unable to explain properly upsets the person you're conversing with. I dislike upsetting people. I dislike being unable to give proper life to the ideas in my head, to be able to say what I mean with clarity. I dislike having two different conversations where I am oblivious to the resulting catastrophe until afterwards.

Double edged swords. Now if only I can muster the courage to say I'm sorry like a proper person and hope that they can accept. All I can say is it's harder to read non verbal cues via text messaging. I just need to speak more clearly and think of what I say before I blurt them out. Sounds easy enough right?

Things we mean and not say

There are things that I won't tell you: of how I turn around and expect to see you there; Or that I hold out my hand expecting yours to clasp mine. Or of how I see the brightness of your eyes, or your smile, or the strength of your shoulders on people I see in passing. I won't tell you how my gaze lingers even when my brain is already convinced not one of them is you. I won't tell you any of that. I'll just tell you that I miss you.

Moving on

It's been a year since I've last posted something and a lot of things have happened since then. To recap: I've graduated from Nursing school (finally, to my mom's delight), passed the NCLEX (even better), got accepted as a new graduate nurse and almost off orientation, was unfortunate not to attend my sister's wedding in Canada or my brother's in the Philippines, met a guy at a friend's wedding, went to Disneyland, celebrated some, cried some, argued some, laughed a lot, learning a lot, dating above mentioned guy, breathing and actually happy.

I still can't believe that I am done with Nursing school. I still wake up on odd days thinking that I have to go to school or turn in an assignment or that I don't have an RN license yet. And since I started working there are days when I ask myself why am I a nurse, especially during times when I feel dumb, or overwhelmed, or when I suddenly feel young in front of patients much more older and weathered by life. But there are more days of exhilaration that yes, I am a nurse, and that I am a competent, mature, and professional. Sometimes. I am learning a lot about Nursing, about myself, about life, about people, about relationships, and how to be patient with myself. I'm moving on.

I had a friend ask me years ago of what came first: moving on or letting go? I remember answering that we let go and then move on, but I think it's a process of moving on and letting go and letting go and moving on. I think we can't ever stay stagnant as people, we'd be too bitter or too bored. I've had people tell me I grew up too fast but growing up is never over. I still have all these questions, notions, concepts, abstract ideas, and emotions trying to settle down like bones, like how people grow into their bodies, gangling qualities turning into grace. And sometimes lessons are painful and seeing my flaws out in the open make me want to burrow deeper but I want to be better and so I choose to be better.

I stopped writing partly because I was busy, partly because I was mourning, and mostly because I wanted to live out my life outside of written words, beyond computer screens. I wrote for myself as therapy and I like writing but I was starting to write more than I was living, even if that doesn't make sense, so I stopped. Just like I stopped drawing because it hurt to remember my grandmother, only to start baking more to remember another. I stopped writing to my family because it's easier to shut away feelings than be emotional and hurt. I have all these ineffective coping mechanisms and as I examine myself, I feel discontent. I feel like I have all these rooms that I shut off and only sequestered myself in a corner, wasteful really, and disappointing.

I want to move on, let go of myself, and grow up and settle into my body. I want to be all these marvelous things and I am slowly changing and it's process but I'll get there. I can't wait.

I want to write you all the words but I keep them in my heart

For a long while I have not visited this place for many reasons: lack of time, school, lack of energy, school, and lack of desire. Mostly, I just didn't know if I wanted to share my experiences, my failings, my utter glee, and my current self with the rest of the internet. So, a sudden hiatus from writing was warranted.

I did miss baring my soul to the universe. I feel that writing here is similar to shouting my feelings on a mountain top where there is not a lot of chance for someone else to hear me and respond. That, of course, is not true, but it is a delusion that I choose stick to.

I have run out of words. Or I have been silent too long that words have dried up and faded even before I can write them down. I miss handwritten letters and smudges and carefully folding of the papers before tucking them in neat envelopes. I miss conversations that occur on a silent canvas of parchment and ink stains and tear stains and tears on the margins. I miss waiting for a message that I can feel, crumple, smooth out and re-fold. I miss all of these simple things that I took for granted before and now I can only slightly recall the event I was so angry about that I wrote them out or the joyful experience that I carried on about and why you wrote these words. I miss the people we used to be when we wrote them even though we were rougher, more impatient, angrier, more childish, and different than the people today.

I want to write you all the words but I keep them in my heart instead because I have no time. I have your e-mail address. I am your friend on Facebook. I just liked your status. I follow your tweets. I read your blog. I text you all the time. I call you once a while. I have no extra money for the postage. I'll pray for you instead. I don't know what to say. I don't have your address. I don't think you'll care about my week. I don't want to wait too long for your reply. I have a list of things to do. I will do it tomorrow, or maybe next week when I have time. I don't have nice pens and paper. On and on.

I'm sorry that I missed years of your life now. I'm sorry for being a below average friend that we're not even friends anymore, we're down to mere acquaintances. I'm sorry to have been such a jerk that I waited for you to write but never wrote on my own. I'm sorry I stopped sending you letters. I'm sorry we're only friends online but not in real life. I'm sorry I depend on social networking to update myself on your life and not asked you myself how you are really doing. And I'm sorry that I'm blogging this now instead of telling you myself. Ironic, I know.

This a letter to remind me to write you all the words and to read all the words you write to me. This is a reminder to make memories with people instead of just waiting for them to upload and update about their life so I can 'like' them. This is a reminder not just to keep all the things in my heart but to touch other people's hearts.

today i looked at all my memories with you

I was thinking of how my graduation is coming up in December.
And I wanted to send you an invitation.

I was thinking of how to celebrate your birthday in September.
One hundred and three years of your life; 10 decades.

I was thinking of last Christmas when you and I just sat together.
In the middle of the food and gifts and the people, we laughed at all the things.

I was thinking of seeing you today.
Instead I looked at all the pictures I had with you.
I'm glad that all of them had us smiling together.

I thought I had more time with you.
It never crossed my mind that you might get tired.
People remark on your age but I barely gave it a thought.
I always felt that we were kindred spirits,
You in a 100 year old body, me in a 20 year old one
But always, we were friends.

I'll miss your stories of grand adventures of your past
I'll miss bringing you coffee and a little bit of 'yes, dulce lola'
I'll miss just sitting beside you and yelling a bit louder because you dislike your hearing aid
I'll miss listening to you speak a mishmash of Tagalog, Ilocano, Spanish, and English
I'll miss lending you books that you forget to bring back
I'll miss browsing for crossword puzzles and wondering if you have that one
I'll miss hearing of your dreams for me: to graduate with honors, to be my own person, to be happy
I'll miss watching you show off your jewelry and telling me where each one came from
I'll miss hugging you and resting our heads together while we watch others around us
I'll miss our conversations and our gossiping, and you saying I should paint and draw
I'll miss seeing your smiling face and hearing you laugh
I'll miss you
I miss you