Someday (aka Rantings Of The KaCheapan)
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This post has been plucked out from my ElChay (Livejournal to you who don’t yet know) because it seems like it fits my current mood for nostalgia. O baka naman kinikilig lang ako dahil nakita ko siya ulit sa G4M (Guys4men to you who don’t yet know, or pretending not to know, or to you who don’t yet know when to come out).
Enjoy.
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Hay. Major kacheapan.
I know, I know, I haven’t really been writing stuff on my elchay. But now that I’m about to sleep I just felt the sudden urge to share this. Kakainis kasi kanina pa ako bina-bother ng feeling na to. Kainis. I feel like 3rd year high school again, all tangled up in my trapper keeper writing love letters to myself, imagining these musings were from that special unreachable someone I secretly wished authored these sweet nothings.
And 8 years later, I was in the **BLEEP** (hindi ko na sasabihin kung saan; baka may elchay din siya lagot ako… hihihihi) getting ready to leave for a meeting when I bumped into him, with a friend. My heart seemed like it was on 10 extra doses of Hydroxycut as it raced to tell my brain “umalis ka na jan dahil anjan siya!!! hindi mo to kakayanin!!” Too late though cause we were all caught in the elevator and true to my claustrophobic nature, I panicked, not just because of the cramped space, but more because I couldn’t lift my head to look at his gorgeous face. My friend, whom he was with, tried to make small talk, and even went to the extent of introducing us to each other. Of course I lied when I said we haven’t met; we were introduced several times already (some to my scheming), and in fact, I have always remembered everything about those moments we were physically in the same space: who we were surrounded by, what we were surrounded with, what I was wearing, what he was wearing, why I was helplessly quiet as he passed by, and how I pretended not to pay attention to his dancing, all the while watching from the corner of my eye his every groove. Every moment with him was an MTV. They were moments of frozen time scored by my secret playlist playing in my mind’s iPod.
And as he boarded the car and life went back to normal speed, my short circuited brain constantly flashed images of his face in the most unlikely of times: whilst I was about to take a bite on my caramelized onions and bacon on baguette dinner; as I was about to pick up Shahani’s tall decaf non-fat hazel nut latte with 2 equals; in between conversations about Carla Sibal’s hair and the Uy siblings; there he was, with his semi-kal do, all preppied-up to go to work, with his over-plucked eyebrows, and over-zealous smile killing me with its every bit of movement. Sigh.
And as I replayed probably the longest 10 seconds and 5 flights in my entire life, all I could concentrate on was mustering up the courage to say “You’re looking really good,” and still managed not to do it. There is something about infatuations that make you your complete opposite; a witty personality collapses to utter dismal retardation at the sight of a long lost but never forgotten smile. If I were asked what performance I should receive an Oscar for, it would have to be for this performance of an actor inside an elevator trying to act normal under deathly kilig circumstances.
There. I said it. gosh, I hope I don’t get reruns of this performance. It’s hard enough doing it once. But I don’t think I can survive any take twos. I rarely fall into fits of colegiala and I’m not about to start rehearsing to be one once again. It’s bad enough we had to live and endure that once in our lives; a double take might just trap us into the unnecessary hair tucks, “the-word-like-in-between-every-word” syntax, and bouts of nonchalant obsessions over teen beat stars. I’m happy being my age now, happy, accomplished, a bit jaded, and a whole lot realistic.
Then again, it doesn’t hurt being whirled back into the unknown, where your only instinct is to follow your heart.