Now that the readership of this blog has sufficiently waned, I think I can post a really personal rant.
So. How was grad? Horrible. Sad even. How else do I say that I hated it so bad it actually brings me to tears? It’s not that the general décor was, well, let’s just say very inappropriate for law school graduation. Very…impoverished. The chairs offered for the faculty (The handful that showed up, anyway. At least Sir Te was there. It was a complete boycott, I swear!) and the Chief Justice were dragged from the Law Library. I couldn’t figure out whether the banner thing was made of tarp or cloth, or whether it accidentally got torn into three pieces or was hanging from a loose rope. In any case, it looked horrendous. The Chief Justice’s speech was long. Really long. That’s just about all I can say about it. Dionne’s speech brought tears to my eyes though. Especially that part about family.
Overall, the non-event didn’t mean anything to me. Actually, I don’t think I’d have thought much of skipping the entire thing. Anyway, the people I wanted to be there didn’t bother to go. They didn’t even remember that I was graduating. Except for Tito Iggy, nobody from my family texted to congratulate me or to give the cliché “I wish I could be there, but…” speech. Basically, it was a non-event for them. I don’t understand how they can demand so much from me and not even remember my birthday and my graduation. Both from college and from law school. I invited them to both, but they flatly refused both times. All the “We’re so proud of you”’s? Lip service. You can’t possibly mean things like that if there’s absolutely no evidence to prove it. How taxing is it to call or to send an SMS for crying out loud? And yeah, they totally forgot about my birthday too. Same story. Not even a belated happy birthday a week, or even a month later. All of them. Well, except my dad, my cousin Shirley, and Tito Iggy.
So here I am two days later, sitting alone in a towel moping, wallowing. Cried myself to sleep last night. Cried in the shower this morning. Cry intermittently in between. And I hate myself for being such a crybaby. I just want to crawl into a hole.
Add that to the fact that I want to strangle the stepmonster. I had to invite her because I didn’t want to hurt my dad. He told me to invite her. So I did. He told me to confirm if she was going. So I did. He told me to ask her to go with us onstage. So I did. And now I’d really love to gouge her eyes out and feed them to piranhas. I could also skin her alive, douse her with alcohol, and then feed her to piranhas. Or death by a million papercuts. And piranhas. First off, she was more excited about getting her picture taken with the Chief Justice than anything else. Actually, that was all she talked about. All she wanted to do. Oh, and the jewelry set I asked if I could borrow for the ball that she said she’d sold because she was broke and had to make ends meet… Lo and behold, she was bedecked in the same diamonds and white gold yesterday. And duh, the jewelry didn’t even match her sack of an outfit. Of all people, I think I’d understand not wanting to lend stuff. Just don’t lie about it and offer some fake sob story. Duh. If you don’t want to lend your stuff, just say so. People will understand. Gawd, I hate her. The only thing I looked forward to was a quiet dinner with Tito Iggy and Tita Nini afterwards. And of course, she was there too. In all her elementary uneducated (not to mention f*ing ugly) glory. Talk about a damper. She goes out of her way to drop hints that my brother and I are not welcome in her house, that when we’re there, we’re visitors. That the house is hers and her son’s. I just want to strangle and maim her. But then again, she’s already disfigured, so scrap that. She took a good part of my parents’ stuff to her house too! Absolute separation of properties, bitch!!! No wonder you flunked the bar three times. If my dad (whose taste went gaga after my mom died) didn’t marry you, you’d be a single 45-year-old fat ball of cellulite from the middle of nowhere with nothing to boast of but a law degree you barely even deserved and having taken the bar thrice but never hurdling it. Even when I was in high school and clueless about law shit, I knew you had no idea what you were talking about. I swear to God, I’ll get everything back and more. I’ll leave her penniless in the gutter. She won’t know what hit her.
And although I love my dad, sometimes, I just want to slap some common sense into him. He changed his shirt OUTSIDE THE CAR. In the parking lot. I was so outraged that he didn’t get why I was so furious. Nobody does that! And he actually asked me if he had to go to dinner with Tito Iggy and Tita Nini with me. Dad!!! If someone sends your daughter to law school, the least you can do to thank them is to show up at grad dinner after you’ve refused dinners and lunches for four years!!! Oh, and by the way, they didn’t even bother to bring a camera. And all the stepmonster was worried about was that she wouldn’t be able to get her picture taken with the Chief Justice. I so f*ing hate her. And no, she didn’t even give me an old used and ugly leather wallet this time. (FYI, she gave me a really ugly pre-owned black leather wallet two Christmases ago. Last gift I ever received from her.) All she’s good for is that, and I didn’t get anything. By the time I got back to the condo, I felt like my head was splitting in two.
In any case, with a family and stepmonster as supportive as mine, I have to draw emotional support from somewhere. And yeah, it comes from the most unexpected people, like Nico’s mom. Since the two people I’ve been unloading most of my issues on lately (Sands and Nico) have since moved away, Nico back home to Las Piñas, and Sands to Sunrise, we don’t see each other as much. But when I felt my demons coming, I couldn’t fight the need to tell them. Sands told me not to mind them, that people can be really insensitive sometimes. (Amen to that!!!) Nico, since he didn’t know what to tell me, asked his mom to text me. So a minute later, I got a message from an unknown number. I won’t reproduce the text here, but I still have it in my inbox. Let’s just say that halfway through the text, I broke into a sob. Well, at least I have SOMETHING to be happy about. I swear, I hate my life sometimes. If I wasn’t scared of my head being underwater, I’d immerse myself in the tub a la Meredith minus the suicidal urge. I’m too much of a scaredycat for something THAT drastic. I can’t even get highlights or a really rad ‘do, for crying out loud. In any case, back to the books. I think I’ll skip the whole trip home this weekend. I may just get involved in an offense involving moral turpitude. I’ll save my emotional stamina for my trip home on election day when I’ll brave my demons and rein in my violent urges to exercise my right to suffrage.
Hay… Life… I guess people really don’t change. I just hate it when I start believing that they will and they end up disappointing me yet again and I have to rebuild the fortress after the onslaught. This week, while some people came to know how many people love them and support them, I came to the stark realization of quite the opposite. And it hurts. Real bad. I’ve never missed my mom and my brother more. Now that they’re both gone (one of them constructively), I’ve just about lost everyone. I love my dad, but he will never measure up to my mom. And my full-blood brother JJ will always come first. They’re the ones who should have been there at grad. And they’re the ones who should have been with me on my birthday. But I can’t change the past fourteen years. I swear, I would do anything to go back to 1993. I could stay there forever and never grow up. But I can’t. And it kills me that no matter what I do, I can’t bring them both back. Because none of this means anything if they’re not with me. Life. It would be great if I could escape. Go crawl into a hole or hide under a rock or something. Now I know what a certain blonde meant when she said the world was moving so fast but she felt like she was in slow motion. It feels awful. Like trying to move and talk underwater. Sometimes I just want to pack my bags and move someplace where nobody knows me. New life, fresh start. Clean slate. Start over.
In sum, my life pretty much sucks right now and I really hate it.
