Whoa, it’s been more than a year of non-blogging! After my creative juices had been sucked up, I surrendered to the urge of prosaic, uneventful tell-taling. Humdrum moments, life’s snippets too uninspiring to reveal: a typical writer’s block, I reckon.
In between Blogger’s hiatus and now, though, the vicissitudes are overpowering: 1) I was hit by the Love Bug amidst the madding crowd; 2) I visited Singapore again (only after being held in the detention room at the Changi Airport for an hour when my passport acted up on the verification machine); and 3) Surprise, surprise: I am contemplating of going to law school. Yes, law school! And as hasty as it is, I am already inundated with horror stories: the dreadful Socratic Method, the incessant discomfiture brought about by the meanest professors, digesting pile of pile of cases and memorizing tongue-twisting Latin legal jargon! Though unfazed, I badly need an Elle Woods intervention right now!
But Love Bug is too grand an affair to be not highlighted. It marks a glorious, life-altering feeling that if true, would prove indelible. In terms of importance, I would rank it after getting to UP. Slap me for being squishy but it’s as if all the angels in heaven conspire for that fateful meet-up. It was an instantaneous mutualism, an aberration of the natural order of things. Love at first sight, bizarrely, is an idea I used to debunk. Now, I’m gushing over it.
SO is beyond the person I ever dreamed of: charming, religious, gifted in the humor department, giving and loving. Never mind if SO is not into the not-so-offbeat stuff, haunting music and Oscarish films, I will definitely dig Jesus, Tangled, a few grammatical slips over Oprah, a Clint Eastwood flick or an annalistic grammar police in a heartbeat.
The future is still uncertain for the two of us. I hate picturing it with happy-endings. It has almost become, as past experiences would bear out, a terrible writing on the wall. My new mantra, hence, is: Carpi diem!
For the record, my saturation point in a relationship, akin to premature ejaculation (forgive the pun!), rather comes too soon. After the spark and spontaneity had fizzled out, it gets bleak and nonchalant. Enter saturation point. And it also doesn’t help that I am dramatic, moody, reasonably possessive and a wee bit paranoid. Thankfully, SO is a bit of fresh air: SO’s flair for the dramatics is not as ostentatious as mine.
So after seven months of togetherness, the threat of saturation remains at bay. And it will be so for eternity. I shall, in all solidity and stolidity that I could muster, defend the threat of saturation for this beautiful, albeit crazy, thing called
LOVE.
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