11.30.06

driving myself crazy

Posted in Uncategorized at 3:49 am by cla-uplb

There’s a song in my head right now, something I came across in my computer at the office a few days ago. It’s N’ Sync’s I Drive Myself Crazy —and yes, I am probably the corniest teeny-bopper one has ever known. I dig the ballads of my generation’s boybands — from Boyzone to Backstreet Boys to N’ Sync. Go on, you are allowed to laugh and say “Darn! Hindi ka lang corny, Clarisse. Jologs ka din! The ultimate jologs of them all!” Heheh…

And here are the lines I’ve been humming to myself during my solitary moments…

I lie awake

I drive myself crazy…

Drive myself crazy…

Thinking of YOU.

And let’s repeat that please…

I lie awake

I drive myself crazy…

Drive myself crazy…

Thinking of YOU….

Okay, STOP! You probably think I’ve gone completely insane with the way I’m going in this entry. After a week of lying in bed, awake, tossing and turning, indulging in bouts of self-pity, I’m sleeping peacefully now. I have stopped driving myself crazy thinking of you, which is good. It’s probably the lamest excuse but it’s the truth and though I promised I will stop obsessing over the matter, well… let’s just leave that particular train of thought unsaid. J

Perhaps I love myself too much that after three nights of lying awake in bed, I realized I do not have the desire to go ga-ga over someone, so I’m just going to have to stop thinking. Afterall, I have been accused of thinking too much and feeling too much. Perhaps a little ‘detachment’ would work for me this time.

And because it’s time to ‘reinvent’ myself, I decided to go for a short, short hair cut. I’m now sporting a boy’s cut these days. My colleagues and students have remarked that my hairstyle seems to be getting shorter and shorter –from my long, shoulder-length hair to the sexy (hehe) curls last year, to the sophisticated, younger-looking, layered style and now, to my boy’s cut. I remember telling my sister that I’m going to start growing my hair long, and I will only have it cut when I finally snag a boyfriend. My smart-aleck of a sister has the perfect reply. “Yeah, right. By then, I’m already an established doctor and you’re probably still waiting for him, your hair as long as Rapunzel’s. You can start living in your own tower.”

She may be right. Who knows? Or she may be wrong… but a haircut seems like a good way to start this ‘new life, new look’ mission of mine. Besides, I’m thinking of being a ‘boy’ for the next few months and exploring the exciting world of men and locker rooms and conquest stories. Hehehe…

And to this dear friend of mine, this one’s for you, girl…

Heartbreaks are always the beginning of something beautiful and new and liberating. After months of obsessing over that pathetic excuse of a guy, you see yourself in a new light, boosted by the ‘let-him-eat-his-heart-out’ mentality. Okay, you’re just being bitter.

But come on, crying your heart out every night wouldn’t do you any good. Challenged by his rejection, you suddenly want to change your image. You suddenly think about going back to the gym and shedding off those pounds. You suddenly want to be sexy and make him, yes, eat his heart out. You want him to regret playing with your emotions in the first place and then choosing someone else over you.

It makes you want to splurge your money on new clothes and new shoes because again, you want to feel beautiful and pretty and smart and sophisticated. It makes you want to learn a new language so that you can curse him without him understanding a word. Or if you’re really pathetic, you can go tell him “I still love you, jerk. What do I need to do to make you love me?” in a language he wouldn’t understand, saving you from a 90% chance of a second rejection. And believe me, a second rejection doesn’t speak well of your state of mind.

Heartbreaks make you focus on other things like your studies, your work, your desire to earn more bucks, your family, your well-meaning friends who were there for you from the start, dishing out well-meaning advice like ‘guard your heart’ and ‘keep your distance’ (of course, you didn’t listen, poor you). It makes you think about the things you had to temporarily put in the backseat when you met him because all you ever thought about was him. Now I’m sure your friends will have a respite from your stories of how great and good-looking he is. And they were just being good friends to you then, too kind to tell you to shut up.

And it reinforces that promise you made to yourself-before he came into your life—not to take any flirtations seriously, to be ‘detached’ and impersonal and rational, to think with your head and not with your heart, that all guys are just out for fun and you’re stupid if you let yourself get carried away.

At the end of the day, you tell yourself that you are this smart, beautiful, intelligent girl who wouldn’t settle for anything less than what you deserve. You appreciate yourself more, learn to love yourself more, even if you come off as a self-centered, bitter, pathetic girl who just got busted (which is technically true).

And you realize there are more pressing problems in this world — the nation’s state of affairs, the tuition fee adjustment in your university, your thesis and the prospect of graduation, the Rugby boys, the children selling sampaguita in the park, the chemical spill that you just read about in the newspaper, even Pacquiao’s distressing plan to run for public office — than your thoughts of the guy who told you that you’re just friends. Really, who are you kidding?

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