Blocking and unblocking

Today I did something kind of stupid. Not that I never do, but this was a different kind of stupid.

Nemesis posted an entry a few weeks ago that mentioned something that we are both fans of, and I replied a few times in a playful way, inside-joking and all that. A few hours ago, I heard some news about that thing and hurried excitedly to post it under her comment section on her blog, not noticing that I was still logged in Wordpress as SatanPridefulDiner. After realizing this, and after googling "removing comments from wordpress", I realized that I couldn't simply undo what I had done.

The countdown had begun: Nemesis was about to arrive home and she isn't supposed to know about all this... I mean, she knows I blog, but I have never told her where it is because it might affect my "catharsis" in a bad way. So I began doing the only logical thing I could do without actually thinking first: I started password-protecting every entry (Hogad), and I moved my blogger blog to a super secret site (I know).

When she arrived, I told her what had happened and she hurried to check it out, to find it... well, password-protected entries. What started playfully as a 'Imma find your password' game, started getting a bit more serious, and then I realized I don't need to keep this shit away from her. This is the EMOest part of me, but it's still me so, if she ever decides that she wants to give us a try, she should know about all the sides of me. So I started removing every password while she was giving me an "I don't give a fuck, I don't have the right to be pissed anyway!" attitude and typing quite loudly.

Before she even checked my blog again, she made a post about it to vent a little bit. I didn't really care anymore about her reading my blog, or about her venting about everything (lord knows she vents a lot), but I did care about the whole "I don't care" attitude because, frankly, I want her to care.

Accepting her reading my stuff is the ultimate frontier for me; I know it's absurd, but I didn't want her to read all this because it could undermine my own self-expression (and yes, I sound like a 1970s cliched feminist hippie), and I needed to say what's going on without thinking that she might be reading it. That was my mistake.

Jumping from a plane without thinking about it is easy; is knowing that you could die and jump that's valuable. If I can't say (write) these things to her face (screen), I'll be stuck in a semi-repressed state that won't allow me to fully deal with this.

So here it is: Nemesis, this is me. Blog, meet Nemesis.

Acceptance.

When you're a kid, you do not think that much about things around you. As you grow up, being accepted, or creating a status or a reputation becomes increasingly important. How we are perceived by others is not only a matter of oneself; people will see you not only as you project yourself to be, but as they've learned to perceive people who project that image that you're conveying. The peak on the perception/importance graph probably occurs during our teenage years, and, sometimes, a bit later.

Later in life, you understand that it is impossible to be perceived the same way by everybody. Some people will see you as a great, understanding, kind fellow, while others will perceive you as a false, pretentious bastard. And yet, both groups of people might have seen you doing the exact same things, acting the exact same way.

Social conventions and education can help you appeal to a bigger demographic, but, let's face it, nobody can be liked by everyone. People will dislike you no matter how hard you try, how kind or generous you try to be. I remember accepting this fact when I was 16 years old. Some people don't ever accept it, and others thrive for unacceptance, joining that way a different demographic of acceptance.

I don't struggle to be accepted, because I don't really try. I think I'm not a bad guy, a jerk, or a pathetic piece of scum. I do question those things about myself, since I can, accidentally, act like one, and I don't think that avoiding those thoughts can be healthy, the same way that I think that religion, God, or even Love must be questioned. I don't need to be accepted by everybody. I won't try to be accepted by most, even. There's only a few people who I would fight for in order to be accepted. And those are the people who I like to call friends. I have hurt a few friends in my time, sadly. And I have, always, managed to explain myself well enough so that they can understand. And luckily, they have never disappointed me. I'm proud of those people, really proud.

I will not pretend to be as naïve as to think that we don't need to accept ourselves first, or to think that we need to be accepted by anybody at all to live happily. But sometimes -very rare times in my case-, being accepted by somebody can mean the difference between happiness and "just another day".

Some of you 2 readers might be thinking "does this guy have a point?" My answer: Yes.

Don't judge me, you're the ones who read all through my crap.

Idle Hands

Today I received a text from Nemesis, asking me if I was ok. I am not. We met up and skyped for a few minutes. We decided to stop talking today.

Idle hands are the Devil's workshop, as they say. And yesterday my hands were extremely idle. I pretty much used them to torture myself over every little thing that could bug me. Everything that could hurt about the Viking, I took. Everything that could hurt me about Nemesis, I kept. Everything that I hated about me, I did, thought, chewed and swallowed. And then, no vent, no escape, no buffer, no release. Up to a moment when I probably wouldn't have cared about anything anymore, that lasted until today, for now, and consumed every possible chance of letting all that crap go.

I hate it that I did this to myself. I am not like this, and I sure as hell don't want to.

Today Nemesis wanted to cheer me up a little, and I didn't let her; I brought her down with me. And now I am relieved, because I hate me enough for that. Enough to feel something, at last. Even if it is the sickening feeling of contempt and loathing towards myself.

I'm really sorry, Nemesis. You didn't deserve that. If anybody can understand me now, that's you.

Nothing.

Although I did want to do something, I have stayed at home all day today. I've been doing... not much. It's 23:37 and I have had 2 yogurts for merienda. No lunch. No breakfast. No drinks. I have taken a shower, and I have played the piano for a while, but not even an entire piece. I haven't watched a movie, or read a single line of anything that wasn't inside a screen. I haven't thought about work, or plans, or love, or... nothing. I have talked to 2 people in the entire day; Nemesis (happy birthday) and SerBassIm. Nobody called, nobody texted, nothing really has happened today. And almost all the nothing I've done today was Nemesis' related. I've spent hours doing a lot of nothing for her, about her.

I ordered a pizza an hour and a few minutes ago and it hasn't arrived yet. Today Real Madrid is playing against Barcelona; this game is usually an event. People get together and watch it with beers at some bar, or stay at home and have dinner and drinks in front of the TV. It's kind of like the Superbowl in the states. If you're not into football, you can go pretty much anywhere, because you can get a table easily.

And yet, this day is failing me. I am feeling quite "meh" about everything. I just watched an episode from some comedy and I doubt I have gotten any close to smiling. I've spent part of my day thinking about Nemesis, and all I feel is... not love. I feel like she's playing with me. And I know she isn't, but it's hard to pretend that you are sure that she's not punishing me because of what I did to her; not because she wants to, but because maybe she thinks she should.

Maybe it's the nothingness talking. It has taken over the rest of my day, after all.

The pizza finally arrived, an hour and 20 minutes after I ordered it. Now I'm gonna watch a movie that Nemesis recommended. I don't know if that counts or not. I don't know if I want to watch it, or if I want to eat this pizza. Everything's finally ready to do something, and I don't know if I want to do it. Maybe Nemesis feels the same way.

Repressing again.

*sighs*

Closes window.

unHoly Week

5 days of crazy. Well, not really.

Sometimes you allow yourself to think beyond your usual self, and most of the times it scares the hell out of you to think about acting on it, instead of disregarding it as crazy, absurd, or unrealistic. But then again, those things sometimes might be the right choice.

They were 5 days with Nemesis, and almost 2 just getting there and back. Was it worth it? Hell yes.

I spent most of the time on the plane from Amsterdam to Manila thinking about how happy it made me to be able to do what I was doing, and thinking about what to expect. Sometimes it was good, sometimes it wasn't, most of the times I had to refrain myself from thinking about it because... well, because it could go wrong, right?

Well, the worse that could happen was that we didn't click, that we didn't work, that the 'spark' wasn't there. So "be calm", and let the fates decide.

She picked me up at the airport, but you already know about that.

Everything clicked, all the sparks were there, and everything seemed to work. We spent as much time as we could with each other, and we couldn't deny that we still are good together.

We laughed a lot, we cried a little, we tied some knots, recorded some memories and had a killer time. All quite unHoly, as expected, not as planned. We ARE an ex-JC and his Nemesis after all, diba?

I learned about me, about her, about the Viking, about old friends, about new ones. I drove an automatic car for the first time. We barely ate, we listened to old favorites, and we missed each other in advance. We said things we couldn't say before.



A lot and very little happened during those 5 days. Fair, finally, is fair.
I'll talk to you in a month, if we can wait that long.

Advice

Me: I've never been heartbroken. Any advice you'd like to offer?
Nemesis: Get used to it.