20 October 2011

this is not about her...for long

It's half past six in the evening here in rainless Marikina as I type this, and I'm just chilling before I go back to life.

But first, a few thoughts.

I had my living quarters cleaned early this morning which las
ted about an hour after lunchtime. I asked my cleaning lady to be through this time, for it has been a while since my unit was thoroughly cleaned, as I have been traveling and working outside a lot these past two months. While she was about to finish, I stood at the doorway of my library and surveyed the layout of my living room, and thought of what I have been thinking of doing since last year -- rearrange furniture. I read somewhere that rearranging stuff once in a while in your home is a sort of feng shui thing, if you believe that things and spaces have the capacity to block or enhance the flow of good energy in your life. I do. I also believe that certain feelings and emotions get attached to things, and that these things might trigger an emotional state once you connect with them in one way or another.

I've stubbornly held on to this Boracay lamp I bought in 1998 because to me,
it symbolizes my foray into different aspects of independence during
that period in my life, as I was trying to establish myself a couple of years
after moving out of my parents' house, realizing that I could actually
have control over aspects of my life previously run by other people for me,
straddling between careers as I jumped from a familiar industry towards an unknown one
to try another artistic aspect I have yet to discover then (writing) and to face a challenge
I thought was so way out of my league (going to grad school to get my masters degree) ,
as well as discovering a facet of who I really am -- a woman-loving-woman -- and
trying to painstakingly reconstruct my soul after the first woman I loved shattered it.

I'd like to look at this lamp and secretly smile at myself
for having undergone all those obstacles -- and survived.
(photo taken January 2009)

It has always been easy for me to deal with such emotions and feelings attached to living spaces and things before, because I used to rent apartments and thus, after an emotional crisis in my life -- meaning a relationship
break-up, what else -- the act of packing my things up, throwing some stuff away, and moving into a new space becomes a helpful and healthy cleansing ritual. I think I've done that about three or four times, I think, moving in connection with a break-up. But it gets tricky when there's no move left, meaning you bought your own house na, or in my case, condo unit. What happens then, if you decide to live with someone in your fixed space na, and then you break up?

The first one was easy. I didn't regret breaking up with that g
irl I was with when I first moved in my condo for good. Actually, living in became an issue for us because neither of us couldn't give up each other's home space for our own somewhat fixed reasons (we just ended up spending time, taking turns, in each other's homes). And that worked perfectly fine for me.

When I bought this space, it was really meant for me, and me alone. Now it's a matter of negotiation if I eventually find someone I want to share my life with
, living space included. Well, such is the nature of women-loving-women relationships, after all -- this penchant for living in, sharing living quarters, sharing a life. I've been in several of those, and I can't say that they were all happy camper days. I guess being who I am and what I do, I also cherish the importance of a solitary space. (Not to mention that I also am trying to veer away from the clutches of Pinoy dyke homonormativity for now, but that's another blogpost.)

It's funny how I've been repacking and repacking my life in boxes for 10 years.
The second to the last time that I did that, in the middle of hauling out boxes
from the apartment to the van, I suddenly stopped and fucking teared up.
The constant moving has somehow affected me much as it has also healed me.

And the funny thing is, now that I finally own my home,
I miss those emotions connected with moving -- especially the healing part.
Weird, no? (photo taken January 2008)

I already wrote about reclaiming queer spaces before, and that was the immediate project I had upon my last break-up last year. It w
as really hard to shake off, dust off, sweep out all the energies of that past relationship I had from my condo, simply because most of those energies were actually positive. Funny how the turn of events made those energies tip to the other side of the scale. Yes, remember when I became allergic to sunsets or staying home during sunsets? I've dealt with that already and reclaimed that.

Today, as my cleaning lady was finishing up, I just decided to rearrange the furniture and stuff in my living room. It's no huge feat, actually -- I just rearranged where the couch will be and where the other stuff will be in re
lation to it. And surprisingly, this rearrangement felt better -- the space felt it expanded more, more sunlight was accommodated inside the unit, the breeze from the window flowed better, and it felt like some strange, heavy feeling suddenly let me go, like somebody's embrace letting go of its grip on me. I guess that was the last of the negative feelings still tucked in between my things here, and moving them around suddenly released them.

As for energies, I never had any (major) heavy feelings left here anyway, since after that break-up last year, some new (and reliable old) souls ha
ve temporarily graced and inhabited this living space of mine, somewhat etching their marks on the walls and floors, their laughter reverberating in the ceiling and echoing all over, and their genuine feeling of friendly connection painted my condo alive, once more. Not to mention that I was also lucky to find a kindred spirit that ignited a profound affection for me, bearing the package of love and care. It is her energies that have jumpstarted my being once again, when we were given time and space to physically share each other's essences and thoughts, and those energies somewhat lit up this living space of mine anew, like buying a new lamp and putting it on for the first time to enlighten a dark room. And even if we are not physically together anymore these days, that chance of igniting something was well worth it. Damn worth it. And I thank the universe for sending her to me during the time that I needed it, as she needed me, too, as we both theorized.

New decor I will hold on to. I hope its meaning never changes for me.
I somehow believe it won't. (photo taken April 2011)

And so, the last frontier of reconquering a space was only in cyberspace. Funny that, eh? Even that has to be conquered these days. Yes, I guess, whatever it takes. Since sometimes being a techie tests my patience, I just left my home wifi network name as is, the name which my ex gave. I've been meaning to do this seemingly stupidly simple chore, but I guess my not-so-techiness got the best of me, so I just left it. I just learned how to deal with it, ignored it each time I access the internet, because sometimes the network name reminds me of he
r. This really sounds so stupid but yes, I am that kind of a person which has lots of sensory triggers all over. But since I had this general cleaning stuff and it also meant disconnecting my cables here at home, I had no choice but to reconfigure this wifi set-up, name and all. And now, I've also reclaimed that space now.

Come to think of it, it's funny how people assign values to things, events, places and stuff in connection to their memories, eh? More so in connection with their feelings. I guess this is perfectly sane. This is why people hold on to things, even if sometimes it's already unnecessary to do so. But if that act of holding on gives us the feeling of being alive, then we shouldn't mess with it, I think -- as long as it's still within a healthy frame, I qualify. We a
ll have our ways of coping and surviving. And now, I have shared with you some of mine.

Yes, this is indeed not about her, for long...because this is all about me now, me and other souls who are still there, who treat me better, who send me love/hugs/words of comfort from near or far. And to those who could use new thoughts about their own situations, I hope I was able to contribute even minutely, as this is for all of you as well.

This is for us.

It's all about balance, after all. I have it now. Somewhat.
(photo taken April 2011)