Butterflies in my stomach… A Love Story

mr. ballplayer

my mr. ballplayer

He was a college basketball superstar.  Such a dreamboat.  He didn’t know me then, but I used to watch his games and pine for him.  Although we were batchmates, we were never introduced.  My young self was “loving” him from afar. 

Being Mr. Popular, I knew he wouldn’t really notice me.  Not when a lot of other girls are fawning over him.  I was but one of his fans.

We  were (finally) introduced several months after we graduated.  I was already working then and I guess the ‘corporate’  look made him notice me more.  I was no longer an immature ‘nameless fan.’     I became someone interesting enough to date.

He was a sweet guy.  His college basketball superstar status made people believe that he was unreachable, difficult to talk to… yet he really wasn’t.  He was pretty down to earth.  But given his appeal, I knew that a lot of other girls are dying to date him — much like I was back in college.  And so I also knew that whatever we had wouldn’t last.

I was so young then.  I wasn’t looking for a serious relationship.  I knew that if my heart was to be broken, it might as well be by someone I insanely liked. 

At that moment in time I knew he liked me back.

Little things made me feel special… Like that time when he came over to my place unannounced at ten pm, after a basketball game (he was already playing in an amateur league).  When I asked why, the only reason he could think of was that — he wanted to see me, and that he just kept driving ’til he got to my house… And then there was a time when we were waiting for a movie to begin, and he started singing “It Might be You” to my ear…  After dropping me off after a date, he would call me the moment he gets home and we would still talk on the phone until the wee hours of the morning… Sometimes we talked a lot about different things, at times we just stared at each other.

Seeing him always gave me the butterflies in the stomach sensation. 

On our last date, I distinctly remember his parting words.  As I was going down the car, he reached for my hand and said,  “I will call you.”

Several days passed, and I didn’t hear from him.  Days turned to weeks, weeks to months… still no word, no nothing.  No explanation.  He just disappeared.  I knew it was over. 

I was heartbroken, yes, but I pretty much expected that to happen so it didn’t hurt that long.

Several months later, I went to one of his ball games and he saw me.  We got to talk somewhat and we planned on seeing each other again the following day.  Maybe to iron things out, maybe to just plain hang out.   

I was staying at a friend’s house that night, and he said he will pick me up in the morning before he goes to training.  He said he was looking forward to spending the morning with me.

Something happened the following morning.  I had to leave really early, and since cellphones were still unheard of at that time,  contacting him proved to be so difficult.  Plus, I didn’t know that the previous night, when he asked for my friend’s home number, I managed to give him a wrong one.

We were finally able to talk again that afternoon when he got home from training.  He told me that he was looking for me the whole morning until he realized that I just led him on.  He said I did it on purpose to get back at him.

I can still remember the hurt and disappointment in his voice.  Mr. Player got played.  By me.

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I never saw nor heard from him since.  Funny because I woke up this morning remembering that it’s his birthday today.

Although at that time, part of me was glad that it ended that way (he broke my heart, after all),  it’s not something that I am particularly proud of.  And sometimes there are people whom you would rather remember for the good moments that you shared together.  Memories that you know you will always preserve somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind.

Now, 18 years later, I do not dwell on the sour ending that we had.  Obviously we were not meant to end up together. 

But I do remember the butterflies.  And it’s enough to make me smile. 

 

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photos via weheartit.com 

And then there was… baseball

from dusk 'til dawn

It was another baseball weekend.

Two full days of tournament.  On Saturday my son’s team played two games, on Sunday they played three.  Since they kept playing, it also meant that they kept winning (losing two games means the team should start packing ‘coz they’re going home).  They could have reached and won the championship game if only the last two teams they played against were not that good.  But well, all the teams played to win.  Our team came in third.  Not bad for a new team.

To say that it was an exhausting weekend would be an understatement.   The long day, the heat, the waiting in between games truly sucked the energy out of me.  At some point during the day, I was already starting to imagine what my alternate self in my alternate universe would have been doing on that weekend.  Probably Christmas shopping.  Alternate SGM was joyously strolling at the airconditioned mall, shopping for Christmas gifts, looking so pristine while sipping her favorite iced mocha.   The real ME on the other hand, spent the two days under the sun and the heat and the occasional drizzle.  With sand and soil on my shoes and my pants.  I was the perfect poster girl for the Sahara desert. 

When we got back home Sunday evening, I was just so tired.  Dead tired. 

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happiness in a glove

Enough of the whining, though, because I know that despite the heat and the exhaustion, it was a good weekend for all of us baseball parents who were there to watch and cheer for our boys.  We had food, we had drinks.   And do you know of people who are very gifted at entertaining others?  Well, we had those, too.  Ergo, we had laughter. Lots and lots of laughter. 

It is really nice when parents get together for a certain goal. Ours was to extend whatever support our kids needed… not only to win the games, but for them to learn from the actual experience, as well.  So whether they win or lose, our prayer was that they take something valuable home with them. 

It is not always just about the skills that the child develops when he does sports.  It is also about the values that he learns.  The life lessons that he will bring with him as he gets older.  It is also about the memories that these children build individually and even as a team.

And to be part of those memory-building moments… isn’t that what parenting is about?

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next blog:  Parenting from the Other Side… (The kind of parent you wouldn’t want to be). Watch out for it.  I still have to collect my thoughts. As I said, I was dead tired over the weekend, I haven’t really recovered yet.

photo via weheartit.com

 

The Notebook

*Disclaimer: This post has nothing to do with the movie. And I mean totally nothing 🙂

I started writing on a diary when I was 12.  When I discovered the fun in writing my thoughts down, it easily became a habit for me.  I think it was also because of my diaries that I realized that I loved to write.

it wasn't always this cute

Being young, though, and having to rely on my student’s allowance, I had to make do with ANY kind of notebook.  On good months (say, after Christmas or my birthday), I could afford to buy the cute, frilly kind.  So sickeningly feminine and cute.  On lean months, I would settle for anything with a spiral on the side.  As long as it had lines… and I can write on it.  Truth be told, I had more of the latter. 

What I loved about keeping a diary is that you can air out your thoughts — and your diary won’t try to oppose you or say that you’re wrong.  You can whine and vent — and your diary won’t roll its eyeballs while you’re all whiny (because it doesn’t have eyeballs, duh!).  And when I was much, much younger and was in the poetry making mode, my diary was my “artist’s canvas.” 

More than that, my diaries preserved my moments.  Good ones, bad ones, exciting ones… okay, even the boring ones (like when there’s really nothing to write about but I was so bored and I wanted to write something…it happens.)

I used to chronicle every interesting thing that happened to me.  I remember the night before the first day of my freshman year in high school, there was a concert on tv that I so badly wanted to watch (which I did)…

Spandau Ballet in the early 1980s, clockwise from left, John Keeble, Tony Had...

I'm an 80's girl...

Said concert lasted ’til midnight, and I was the only one awake and I had no one to share the excitement with… but I had my diary with me, and all throughout the concert I was writing my thoughts, along with the sequence of songs as the band sang them. I was singing and dancing, too (yes, I already knew then how to multitask). After the show, I reread my entry — about 5 pages of them — and relived the concert in my mind.  My handwriting was almost illegible, but I was happy.  I felt I saved the moment on paper.

You see, we cannot remember everything.  There will come a time when our memory will fail us.  Happens for some people way earlier and faster than for others.  Sad but true.  I don’t consider myself old (i mean, OLD) yet, but honestly, there are things — events — from years past that I cannot remember anymore.  Like a friend of mine will say, “Remember when we…” and I feel bad for not remembering.  Heck, sometimes I can’t even remember what I wore last week! (Not that it’s worth chronicling or something…)

Just as an aside, I overheard my sister and a cousin talking the other day about an event that they had together almost a decade ago, and funny thing was, both of them couldn’t remember the details.  My cousin couldn’t even remember being there!  And she blamed having had two epidurals (she has two kids now) for her memory loss.  My sister does the same, a lot of times.  She blames her epidural whenever she forgets something (Most of the time I tell her she owes me money to check if her brain cells are still active… and then the epidural gets the blame).  The thing is, we are still in our thirties!

Antonio Pigafetta, a great chronicler

I would want to remember a lot of things.  I want to preserve my memories.  When I am much older, I want to be the type who will tell her grandchildren stories of childhood and youth.  Not that they would want to listen, but that is another issue.  The thing is, I want my children and my children’s children to learn from me… to see me as the person that I am/was. I cannot tell my grandchildren stories if I don’t remember them.

That’s why I kept diaries… because I knew that at some point in time, I would want to look back and remember something — an incident, an emotion… even a heartbreak.  I can read my entry and reminisce, and relive. 

I lost most of my old diaries, though.  Nature has its way of cleaning one’s closet (i think my first ever blog was about the sorry fate of my diaries).  And then as I got older and had more pressing responsibilities (i.e., parenting and motherhood), I didn’t think I still had the time to sit and chronicle my day.  Besides, my son would probably find it hilarious if he sees me writing on a diary (You’re still using notebooks? So uncool mom!).  Yet it would be nice to chronicle my midlife adventures.

And then I realized that basically, this whole blogging experience is what it is.  My daily chronicle. I’m airing out my thoughts, I’m venting, whining, ranting, raving… sharing, teaching, humoring myself, humoring others…making friends.  Plus, I am preserving days.  I am preserving the moments that I write about

I have gone back to the habit that I began when I was a young girl.  And it’s all good.

I just hope wordpress doesn’t crash. Ever. And I mean ever, ever…

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dear diary...

 

PS.  And yes, I used to start my entries with Dear Diary.  All the time.

 

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photo via weheartit.com and google images

As promised…

It has been a semi-frustrating blog week…

Semi-frustrating because  1) my internet connection has been acting up since saturday evening (see Limited Connectivity entry), and 2) my chance and definitely unintentional brush with icky porn the other day (see Blogging etiquette post). 

Sometimes the universe just throws things at you that you are not prepared for.  Good that I had topics to write about, but it can be pretty exhausting to be angry — or frustrated. 

Today I am keeping my cool.  For along with the frustrating times come moments, too, that warm our hearts. 

Here is something that is light and easy…

Tumblr

This morning as I dropped off my son in school, I lingered a little longer and from the back seat of my car I watched as he walked to the school gate, then enter the school premises, and eventually disappeared going up the stairs to his classroom.  Somehow I couldn’t dismiss that tug in my chest as I watched him walk away.                                           

I remember the first time my son entered big school.  He was only 5 then. He wasn’t the clingy “Mom, please don’t leave me!!!” nor the whiny “I don’t want to go to school!!!” type.  Nor was he the one who cries silent tears — tears that will surely melt a mom’s heart and make her want to whisk her child away (like school was a bad place or something!).  No, my son held his own… He made me bring him to his classroom, he let me leave guiltlessly when it was time to leave, yet made me promise to be there at dismissal time.  And I was there as promised.

He is in 5th grade now.   I still drop him off  in the morning… but by now I am just allowed to either stay in the car or bring him to the gate (“Mom, that is so not cool!!”).  Watching him this morning, I can’t help but ask myself until when do I intend to do this?  I mean, at some point I will have to learn to let go, right?

Letting go is not easy.  Sometimes we wish we can forever hold our children in our hands so they are always protected.  But we also know that by letting them go, we let them learn… we let them experience life… and we let them grow.  Because if we hold on too tight, we will stifle their growth.  There are things that they simply have to learn on their own.

But we know that whatever happens, we will be there to catch them should they fall. Perhaps what is important is that they have the knowledge and the security that whatever happens, when they need us, we will be there to pick them up…

Every dismissal.  As promised.   

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photo via weheartit.com

Oh happy day…

So many reasons to be happy

ColdHands

First day of a new month.  My site reached 800 hits.  I was able to chat with two of my best friendsI look amazingly pretty today.  I saw George Clooney on tv this morning.  I still fit in my old jeans21 days ’til Glee. I am in the mood to write.  I finished something I had to finish on time.  I made someone happyNever ending supply of coffee.    Saw my favorite boy Marco yesterday and the thought still makes me smile.  Listening to not-so-old songs that bring back loads of memories. Thoughts of Christmas.  Thoughts of Christmas shopping

The knowledge that yesterday may have been bad, but it’s over and done with. And now I have today.

Today I smile.

 

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photo credit: weheartit.com

BFFs

yesterday was the birthday of one of my best friends.

it warms the heart to know that she is perhaps my oldest friend from school — oldest not because of the age, but because she was my very FIRST friend in school.  i still remember our first day in grade 1… when i entered the classroom, this girl ran from the other side of the room and called out my name to welcome me.  we have been friends since.

we have seen each other through good times and bad… crushes,  break ups and heart breaks, graduations, proms, weddings, baptisms…  you name it.  we have known each other practically more than half of our lives.

i can count with the fingers of my two hands the number of real friends that i have today.  i guess when you are younger, you tend to stay in a group and you think that all of the people in that group are your friends.  but then as the years go by, people change… some move away, some move to another group, others just choose to be with other people… still there are others who you realize you have nothing in common with, thus, you drift apart. 

i read somewhere that people enter one’s life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.  this is so true. i have had good friends from school that i hardly talk to now.  and even if we get the chance to talk, it’s like we have missed out on a lot of things and yes, things are never the same.  it s nice to reminisce about moments you shared in the past, but at some point, it ends there.  you get stuck in the past.

and then there are those who stay.  those people you grow up with, build memories with, burn the phone lines with… even argue with at times.  these are the ones who know you for who you are, who can tell you what they honestly think about your boyfriend (or husband) and still stay friends with… the ones who can tell you that you are getting fat, or you are looking like a hag, yet you won’t take it against them.  these are the ones who will stand by you…  whatever season in your life you are going through.

friendship is a product of experiences… of love and care and communication.  it is something that one has to nurture, one has to work on.  no, it doesn’t have to be hard work, but if you want friendship to last, you are going to have to share yourself… share your time.  if you cannot always be around physically, at least try to reach out through phone calls.  reach out and communicate, otherwise you can lose something precious.

my best friend — also known as “my person”– lives at the other side of the world.  we don’t see each other regularly like most friends do, but thinking about it, i can now say that we both worked pretty hard to sustain our friendship.  we used to send letters by snail mail… and then emails… and now we send sms and we chat. almost everyday.  we come from different time zones, yet we  know what’s going on in our lives.  and it’s comforting to know that despite the distance, i am sure that she understands whatever it is that i am going through, and she is there for me, and vice versa. 

my other best friend is also a cousin who at present is also in another time zone.  yet i know that the 5 hour difference doesn’t make a difference in our relationship.  i am positive that she will readily reply everytime i buzz.

and then my best friends from elementary and high school — birthday girl included, —  well, like i have said, we have seen each other through good times and bad.  i believe we have enough experiences and memories that will stick us together whether we like it or not. 

i used to have a really good guy friend back when i was still in school.  sort of like the big brother that i never had.  for some time he was my Linus blanket.  our friendship gave me that certain sense of security… that warm, fuzzy feeling.  but  we were very young then.  and so we grew up… and we grew apart.  our experiences brought us to different directions… and there was no turning back.  some people enter one’s life for a season… we have had our season.

there still are a couple of dear friends whom rarely see, but  i know will be my friends for life. funny, too, because one of my good friends at the moment is someone i never expected i will be friends with years back.  never even talked to this person before.   

yes, i can count with my fingers the number of my BFFs.    they help keep me sane, they laugh with me and sometimes at me,  they keep my feet on the ground yet they help me reach for whatever is out there in the skies… they may not be plenty, but they are special.  i know i am truly blessed.

so stop me now before i start quoting from the Little Prince… (It is the time you spent with your rose that makes your rose so important… )

You get my drift.