I Shall Overcome

Recently, I have learned to admit and accept a notion I have so vehemently denied these past couple of weeks...

Putanginashyet. I'M SUFFERING FROM WRITER'S BLOCK. Peste.

It's such a drag, really. I try to write a few lines here and there, but halfway through I stop. Then I stare blankly into space. And at the end of it all, it's either I delete a post or crumple the paper I've scribbled on. Which is whyI won't be surprised if this post is halfbaked and mediocre through and through.

Anyway, I'm trying to come to terms with this phase (and hopefully, it shall remain as such for a period no longer than a month at most). It's just so difficult, though, especially when you have a maelstrom of thoughts swimming in your head and putting them together seems like someone's asking you to do rocket science. Samok.

I'm trying the best I can to get my words back... But when you're faced with signs and symptoms of early burnout, that task alone seems like a lifetime sentence to the fourth canto of inferno.

Yeah, I suppose this writer's block is credited to the fact that I am starting to get so overly burned out with the life I lead. Don't get me wrong, the family's great, work gets me the money, and the friends are just peachy... but the in-betweens, sometimes they're too much.

God help me, then.

Familiar Frustrations

Feelings turn tides just as the sun rises and the moon sets. They keep us from being numb, no matter how hard we try. Which is, in itself, not an entirely bad thing... except when they spiral downward to the farthest pit of one's stomach.

Today, surprisingly, was steady for me - no drama, no crying, but no laughter either. It was just... calm in an eerie sort of way. Eerie, because despite the fact that today was seemingly okay, the nagging voice that kept telling me something is still wrong did not want to leave me alone.

The past week has been dramatic, to say the least. And it was a twisted sort of relief knowing that the drama did not stem from any of my friends... at the same time, it was still saddening to know that the Pleasantville that has become my family has now returned to its original form - Wisteria Lane.

I may be a realist, but that doesn't mean I don't get my head above, and sometimes beyond, the clouds anymore. Since the Doha brother came home for christmas, everything seemed all too conveniently perfect. I swear, it was almost like the picture of a 1960s milk carton ad with the family together at the table all smiling and shit. Until last week... when the Christmas tree at vinzon brother's house fell and the husband and wife started biting each other's heads off.

And it all just came tumbling down the hill from there. Revelations came about, feelings got stepped on, and everyone's faces behind those smiley-diddly masks were unraveled. It wasn't a pretty sight.

But it was reality - pulling the rug from underneath all of us, and in the process forcing us to look into each other's eyes and see ourselves for what we truly are.

Dysfunctional.

It's not an entirely bad thing... In fact, most of the time being dysfunctional is where we gain our strengths from... and most of the time, it's when we learn to appreciate one another's persona as it is. Hell, being the dysfunctional family that we are helps us to accept the reasons why, despite our vehement denials, we need each other.

It's just sad that our little bubble of mary sunshine popped right before the "most wonderful time of the year." Even sadder still, is the fact the new revelations handed to the mother and the father are a little too overwhelming and may need further time to heal. After all, it's not everyday that you realize that a person you treated as your own flesh and blood never saw it that way... and it's not every moment that you are made to see that all your pure and benevolent efforts are interpreted with the best of cynical negativity by your own offspring.

I wish I'd warned them before they had that conversation... then I'd be able to tell them to unfold the mysteries in little chewable bites - the kind that doesn't choke your own mother in tears until the next morning. Waking up to that image will haunt me for the rest of my existence.

Well, this should make for an interesting Christmas.