Message in a Bottle

I’ve been having dreams about my grandfather lately – nightmares almost, rather. In them, I find him dead in the same disturbing manner every time, even though he died peacefully over three years ago. I wasn’t sure what to make of them – is it suppressed guilt emerging for not being able to resuscitate him, as I watched his life slip away in disbelief? Or is it a sign of things to come? With nowhere to turn for answers, I turned to the next best source: Google. Turns out that dreams about death, on the contrary, actually symbolize rebirth – the start of something new and fresh. According to most sites, dreams about death are common and often mean that some part of the self needs to be radically reworked – whether it’s one's attitudes, emotions, or relationships. Bingo.

Suddenly it all became clear; I had a startling epiphany a couple of days ago. On my way home from work, I was recounting to a friend the turn of events of the day, and at one point, I just broke down and cried. I cried – not because of what was said or done, but because I finally realized the person I had turned into. As if someone brought forth a mirror that I had feared gazing into for a long time. This isn’t me or who I wanted to become, I thought – then how the hell did I let it happen? Too many chick flicks, I presume, but that’s the easy answer. At some point during the last two years, I embarked on a voyage in search of finding the guy I was destined to be with. I wanted someone to love, and started holding on to any guy who gave me the faintest notion of “this could be it.” And with each pit stop on this long road, I’d wonder, “Are we there yet?” One thing I became really proficient with overtime, was the ability to deflect blame onto others and circumstances, rather than the one person who was at fault the most: me.

Posing as the victim allowed me to curse everything and everyone but myself. Long distance, age gap, no spark, incompatible, insensitive, insecure, arrogant, unattractive, boring, too nice, too short… the list of excuses is endless. After all, there’s a perfectly reasonable correlation between every cause and effect, but I never dared pointed the finger at myself. Anytime I ended things, I’d justify it by telling myself, I’m not breaking hearts… I’m just crushing egos. Yet, whenever a guy ended it, I’d be relentless in my pursuit of happiness that I intrinsically believed lied in his companionship. That was me Friday. Time of death: 6:12pm.

After reflecting in that X-ray mirror long and hard, I finally came to terms with the fact that I’m a victim of my own crimes. “Whoso diggeth a pit, shall fall therein” as the saying goes. Well, I’m finally throwing my shovel away. I’m tired of dating, going through the motions, hoping to be interested, and acting surprised when things don’t end in “happily ever after” - especially when I could anticipate the outcome all along. Maybe there is some truth to too much of a good thing, and that’s why I’ve decided to stop dating. Yes, indefinitely, and no, I'm not kidding. Sorry boys.

Somewhere in this search for “him,” I lost myself. And maybe moving thousands of miles away isn’t the answer, but it certainly asks the question: what will be my legacy? When Tim Russert died this week, people around the country mourned the loss, because we lost a brilliant man. When my grandfather passed away, hundreds of people were moved because of the lives he had touched. And it makes me wonder… what will become of me when I’m gone? What will I be remembered for? Beyond a eulogy, what words will be uttered in my memory?

Only time will tell but for now, I’ve decided to join the Peace Corps. Go ahead… I’ll give you a moment to scream out “what?!” Well, it’s quite a lengthy process so I’m not going anywhere immediately, but hopefully, I’ll be leaving soon enough. A seemingly dramatic and an impulsive thing to do – I know – but I need to remove myself from what I am, and be the person that I can become. Maybe I need to make a difference in order to become a different person. After all, the people living in third world countries are the true victims of humanity…of natural catastrophes, atrocities, and maladies. It’s time to stop playing the victim, and start helping them. It’s time to turn that recurring dream into a reality.

Game Over

When we’re young, it’s what we naturally do. Even as we get older, we figure out ways to play them by ourselves, thanks to the wonderful world of Nintendo, Xbox, and most recently, the Wii. Take a stroll through any casino, and you’ll see herds of senior citizens playing them till the wee hours. But once you mature from the playground, remove technology, and throw away the deck of cards, all you’re left with is a tally between the winners and the losers.

I was never good at playing games – be it sports, video, or gambling – I just never had a knack for those things. I liked to think I was good at all of the above, when in reality, I knew someone would call my bluff any minute. But beyond just a skillset, the one thing I lacked the most was the ability to follow the rules. Apparently I never was able to acquire that skill – as much as I wielded myself to try – my heart had a will of its own. And that’s precisely where I faltered. In games, you check your heart and emotions at the door, and enter with nothing but rationale and logic to help you maneuver your way to victory. You see, I try to tell myself to do that. I do… really, but in matters of the heart, “mind over matter” does not hold true.

In fact, when you truly like someone, nothing seems to matter. Like now – I like a guy who has defied me to break all the rules, whereas all he’s done is broken my heart. (So poetic and cheesy, yet so true). In fact, I broke the paramount rule of them all: I pursued him. I know it’s the 21st century; I know women can run a business and a home with equal finesse; hell – we even had a female presidential candidate! Women can do it all – except for one thing: chase a man.

It’s a simple concept that takes time to embrace: if he wants thee, he will come after you and chaseth. Frustrating, isn’t it? Women can push out a nine pound human being out of a nine inch opening – yet we’re not allowed to nudge a guy to pull him towards us? Some traditions are born of nature and last through time for a reason. Men ask women out. Men reach for the check. Men propose to women. It’s really that simple – no mixed signals – no playing games. So leave the scheming and plotting up to the players, because there’s no room for it when you’re in it to lose your heart to someone who’s out to win it.

Modern Day Fairy Tale

Like most children, before I lost my innocence to heartbreaks and the grim realities surrounding us, I too, used to believe in fairy tales. The land of make believe where prince charming triumphs over evil and whisks his princess into the sunset. Once upon a time, I used to believe my prince charming would appear out of the oblivion and save this damsel in distress. The clock has struck twelve, my honda has turned into the value of a pumpkin, but there’s still no sign of the thy prince.

As I was browsing through the children’s books section for my nephew the other day, I wondered, is it wrong to teach kids to be so delusional at such a young impressionable age? After all, we all know Santa Clause isn’t real – as is the tooth fairy, or the monster under the bed. But we read these bed time stories to them anyway. We tell them to leave their broken tooth under the pillow anyway. We do it, because we like to instill a sense of the invisible hand – that mysterious figure that magically transforms life’s problems into happy endings. We do it because it teaches us to believe in love, and its supernatural ability to conquer – well, just about everything.

As we grow through the years, and begin to shed our baby fat and innocence, we still carry the weight of the beliefs engrained in us. Deep down inside, we truly believe that love conquers all – whether that “all” entails betrayal, rejection, or pure evil. But does it? If your husband cheats on you, will your deep-rooted love for him prevail over the hurt, and allow you to forgive him? If the object of your affection breaks your heart, will you be able to woo him by showering him with love and attention? As with most things in life, such answers are never clear and always subjective.

Or do we just rely on the “love conquers all” idiom as a crutch so we can mask the bigger evil: denial. Denial of the non-existent Santa, or the denial of your husband’s affair, or the denial of being unwanted. Let’s face it… we all like to delay coming to terms with the cold hard truth, but sooner or later, we can no longer run from it. Two months ago, I became infatuated with a guy that I had known for several months. It’s as if the “tooth” fairy came in the middle of the night, took a piece of my heart and gave it to him, in exchange for – well, not sure what. Two months ago, his name meant nothing to me, and his presence had no effect on me because he was just some guy. Now I categorize him a tad bit differently; he’s the guy that makes me smile at the mere thought of him, the one that makes me cry, the one that I want to be with because no one else quite makes me feel the same damn way. Unfortunately, the feelings weren’t mutual so I tried to make myself believe that I can live with being “just friends” and that eventually he’ll come around. That was the child in me, ever so fervently naïve, who believed that my feelings would triumph and win him over.

So kids, the moral of this long winded story is this: running away from the truth doesn’t make it disappear, so put your big girl panties on and deal with it; love doesn't conquer all, so when someone doesn't reciprocate your feelings, accept it and move on; and finally, kiss slowly and passionately, but when you do kiss, do so without the hopes of him turning into a prince.