Ernica de Guzman's web floordrobe
Queen, courtesan, and patron of the arts
The boy is alive. His back and shoulders are burnt but he’s alive. And thankfully not so suicidal anymore. He said he wants me to join him in his next climb. I feel I’ll say yes.
Ever since I find out you’re in another island group, I feel like being anywhere but here.
"How are you?"
"What’s been going on in your life?"
Here it goes…
I’ve been so busy. I’m involved in several volunteer organizations (HCSY, TLW, LDLK) and KNN is back so yay! I’m also being groomed to be a board member in STAA and I’ve been assigned to maintain the STAA website.
Regular day job’s finally becoming more exciting. Aside from that, regular rakets from SPOT and Pacifiqa. And other non-regular writing rakets, too.
On top of all of that, I also have to worry about the boy who is currently LITERALLY missing somewhere in the Sierra Madre. His last text was that there was a wildfire and they were not allowed to go down yet and that I shouldn’t worry because he’s safe. If he’s lying about it, I don’t even think I care anymore. Do I worry? Of course I do. Will I stop caring anytime soon? Maybe.
If he dies, I’ll sell his GCs and move on with my life. What’s another death, eh? Will I miss him? Of course I will. Do I want him back? I don’t know.
But there’s just so much to do and no time left for worrying or caring.
It’s only when my media player goes bust or the streaming stops when I’m eating that I remember him, that I remember everything, and I’m sad.
What happened with me was that I was born twice.
Yep. Let that sink in for a while.
My mother went to a lamaze class and wanted to give birth to me the “natural” way. After being in labor for almost 24 hours, she almost did, but I crept back into her womb like the clingy person with attachment issues that I am.
Yep. Like a monster mutant and very stubborn baby.
I guess I was like, YOU CAN’T FORCE ME TO GO OUT I GO OUT INTO THIS WORLD IN MY OWN GODDAMN TERMS.
So the doctors decided that the monster mutant and very stubborn baby should be made aware of the C-section.
So I was born.
And I liked everything, I was good at everything, and I wanted to be everything. I blended in everywhere like a chameleon superhero. Of course being a journalist since I was nine and meeting all sorts of people and being able to interview them — from foreign dignitaries to the common street vendor — develops your language skills. I can change my diction and language use in a flick of a hand and I have seriously considered being a spy because I think I’m so good at it.
I don’t even have a texting style. I just copy the texting style of whoever’s texting me because I know people are comfortable with that. Do you use ellipses after every sentence? I’ll do that too. Do you use shortcuts? I’ll copy your shortcuts. Not a fan of punctuation? I’ll make sure to lessen mine.
Even my job history is confusing. This is why I don’t accept LinkedIn invitations. I’m like, okay I have a career as a journalist but now I’m in business… So…
Let me note that I have seriously considered making two LinkedIn accounts, one for Nicai the journalist and another one for Ernica the boring digital accounts manager.
But people are like, oh but you’re so good at time management! How are you able to do all of this? And from such a young age? I was like, there’s always time. What do people do with their time?
And let’s not even start with boys. Yes, time management and the tricks of multitasking also apply to boys.
The problem with being born twice and just being able to do everything you want with ease is that you’re not really sure what you want and who you are.
A few months ago I thought I was ready for a serious relationship with an 8-to-5 type of guy: wears checked shirts to work, managing an account in some firm, most probably based in Ayala or Fort. Now I’m with Ax who is the antithesis of everything I thought I wanted. Sometimes, especially during the bad days, I think maybe I should move on to serious, boring guys. Then I’m reminded that I’m having fun and things are exciting again.
The same thing happened with Gelo and A. Gelo told me that even if I wanted them both, I can’t have them both. He said I liked him because he represented the mature side of me, the side who wants to settle down and be with someone older and more stable. Then a side of me is fascinated with A, someone my age who looked at life as one big adventure — a scary but exciting uncertainty. He told me that I have to choose. That time I didn’t really choose because I was young and thought I had time.
Fast forward to five years later and I’m still here. I’m still weighing the same decisions. I’m decided on my career path now. I’ll be pursuing business and management while writing and shooting and doing all kinds of artsy stuff on the side.
Re boys, well… I’m not getting younger even if time had been stunted for me and my looks. (I can still pass for a teenager, apparently.) A part of me wants something stable and serious but every time Ax takes my hand and pulls me in or asks me to jump or whatever, I just do it. Mindlessly. Like someone possessed. I’m not even in love or anything. I think I’m just bored.
I feel like I’m living my young and old years at the same time. And I know I need to choose or I risk losing both again. But what do I do when there’s just two people living inside of me and the privilege of being born twice?
Wake up again.
Say goodbye to mom. And cry.
Don’t eat and contemplate the events of last night/this morning. And cry.
Try to patch things up with the ex.
Be honest with the ex for once.
Go to the mall. While plotting. With the ex.
More plotting. With the ex.
Laugh when ex says that other ex is extremely good-looking.
Suggest a threesome. Get turned down.
Watch Captain America. While plotting. With the ex.
Walk around the mall in a daze.
Meet people for a business proposal and sound sane/not high/not lacking sleep.
Help parents run errands around the mall.
GET FUCKING HELD UP.
Call help from media friends.
Tell friends your last will, which include telling other ex that you still love him.
Survive being held up.
Call the ex.
Run run run run run run run.
Fly to safety.
Order food and don’t eat it anyway.
Be in a state of shock.
Stay up and watch series so you can catch your mother’s flight and properly say goodbye to her again.
Try very hard to know what year it is because it fucking feels like 2007.
I feel numb and everything at the same time. I lived three years of my missing life in one day. Past, present, and future crashed into minutes.
I can’t sleep. Again.
You stand in the middle of all of this, as you always do. Orchestrating this whole show with your invisible threads and you call it charity.