Fuming

I was doing a marathon of Grey's Anatomy, and I had to stop to go out for a bit to order some take-out. I never got a chance to pick up where I left off. My sister and her boyfriend had to arrive and monopolize the tube. Polite as I am (or maybe just too chicken to demand for the resumption of my marathon), I'm now in front of the PC, albeit unwilling, trying to diffuse the fumes of my uncalled-for anger, or else drowning it out with the music plugged in my ears.

I'm unsociable. I've noticed that long before. I have an apprehension to share who I am with other people. I can't think of anything that could be wrong about opening yourself up to others, but that's just my social behavior. Is that bad? I mean, I can make friends, get to know others if I want to - "if" being the operative word. Even change, the most inevitable thing in the world, disturbs me - sometimes. 'Cause on those other times, it's what I long for in my life. If I can't have my ideal happy ending, there better be a lot of variations, escape routes from ugly/uncomfortable situations, exits to freer positions in life or to better points of view or points to view from. I'm becoming vague here, but I can't really spell out what I'm talking about. Not at this point in time, anyway. Maybe later. Watch out for that.

Meanwhile, I now feel a bit better. Good.

Small

I have a curse, and it will plague me for the rest of my life.

I am substantially insecure of myself, so much so that it affects everything about my life. I am always unsure about what I do, always fearful of being wrong, embarrassed, or thought little of. When at it's best, my insecurity never fails to get the best of me, making certain I feel absolutely the littlest regard for myself. All such feelings only negated and countered when my other perfect flaw, Anger, is stirred and awoken. That's when I feel my best. That's when I know I can do anything. That's when I believe that I have worth and significance just as everyone else - or even more than they do. Otherwise, I'm inexplicably unhappy or feeling totally worthless.

I'm almost certain to be living out my pathetic existence forever seeking the approval of other people, approval that I should have been given in my formative years. Approval tha has been withheld or thought me undeserving.

And that's why I do not doubt misery as an inseparable companion in life. I will be miserable for as long as I live, imprisoned by a constant self-doubt, filled with anxiety and sadness. I will become a recluse, unable to invest emotion or pledge commitment. I will spend all the days that I have been given on this earth in solitude. And perhaps, that is how I shall be found when I am dead...alone -if ever I do get found, and if someone noticed my absence at all. But perhaps, before that even happens, I will have surrendered to the sorrow and hurled myself at some self-inflicted death I will have thought most fitting at that time, when that time comes.

Bound and Broken

I've always pictured myself to be a free spirit. Unbound by the world's conventions, though part of its spiritual fabric. Someone who feels every passion, every desire, every dream, every whim, is to be pursued and everything else is to be left behind. Someone who journeys with the wind, and changes as it does. Someone whose fire dies with her taming, and so must always run in wild abandon. Someone who cannot put down roots and must always be free. This personal visualization gives off a heady and romantic perspective on how I should go about life:

I would always be elusive to everyone who tries to catch me. I would be mysterious, intriguing. So near...yet so far. Otherworldly. I cannot be restricted, and must always run. The only way to keep me would be to set me free.

Maybe that's why I have such a fondness for Miyazaki Hayao movie animations. His characters are often mysterious, ephemeral, fragilely beautiful, and free-spirited. They hit the soft spot of my personal fantasies. They keep you on the edge, waiting, anticipating, and in the end, you yearn and ache for either knowing you cannot have them or for not knowing if you can have them, or when. And you have to watch over and over again, even if it's just to relive those moments with those characters.

I guess I've carried this fantasy over to real life. From what I've learned from friends and classmates over the years, I am indeed somewhat elusive. Elusive in that I tend to hide who I am behind this mask of indifference and seriousness that I had cultivated in my younger years and have now mastered. It takes me a long while to let my guard down. I am a rebel, a nonconformist. I question rules and dislike them (I create my own). I've gone through situations where I bent or altogether broke them. And yes, I have this tendency to run. I run away from situations that make me uncomfortable, make me own up, situations that I don't like, situations that tie me down. When I feel choked and restricted, I want to move where I can be free. And I do believe that I should not be the one to adjust to other people. Rather, they should adjust to me.

But now, I'm not so sure anymore. I've broken my own rules. Years spent having to conform has mellowed me into wanting to be accepted, to be liked, to be approached, to be needed. And those I haven't achieved at all. I still stick out in an odd way not entirely to my liking. I am not needed, not really liked on the whole. Not even approachable. I feel like I am ordinary, mediocre, and boring. I merely exist, without real purpose or meaning. I am not myself. I am not alive where I am.

Hate and Hate Relationship

I have this thing about roaches. I hate them. I think they are the most despicable, most disgusting living things to crawl the face of the earth (thank God it's not my face). I can tolerate rats and mice. Spiders, creepy as they are, can only try (Snakes and other truly potentially dangerous animals are another thing, though). But no other average creepy crawler can make me absurdly apprehensive of them as a cockroach. The mere idea of a cockroach wildly flying about and land on any part of my person makes me cringe. It's not at all comforting to note that they have been around since and even before the time of the dinosaurs - practically unevolved - which only means that they will likely be around for a million more years. Which only means that we who hate them, and the rest of humankind are gonna have to try to live with them while we are alive. Huh, tough.

My aversion to roaches is definitely in the core of my being, that when I dream about them, I wake up hitting the lights on and checking the entire room, the dream still vivid in my mind. During those last moments before returning to an uneasy sleep, I get overly sensitive to the tiniest prickle on my skin that just might be stressed nerve endings or something crawling up on me, or to the tiniest rushing sound that just might be a roach's dark, ugly wings beating and chafing and scraping against each other. And that sound, is the most disgusting and horrifying sound that will reach my ears at night while in bed. That's why I'm here in the first place at five-ish in the morning when I don't usually get up until 9 or 10. Woke up to another cockroach bad dream. What the dream was, to keep it sweetly short, was a cockroach invasion in bed. I just had to get up and keep myself sane. It must have been my subconscious' twisted recollection of an actual occurrence when I was younger. We were all sleeping and were waking up to cockroaches crawling over our beds. There were 6 casualties that night, an already horrendous number to have for company.

Believe me when I say that they smell awful. I had Entomology class. It is a signature smell, and I will know if they have been around things like clothes 'cause they leave their weak but unmistakable stink behind. Our labs smelled dreadful when it was cockroaches on the dissecting pan, and I had to rely on my groupmate for the dissections. I didn't want to have to touch the things. People who have studied them actually like them and respect them. I've seen some such people on National Geographic. They may have to forgive me for begging to differ. I fear I may never be dissuaded from my irrational (?) dislike for their pet creatures.

The sight of them...the sight of them is discomfiting, even just in video footage and pictures. If I see one in my room that seems unafraid or unaffected by my presence, I instantly see it as a cocky gesture on its part. Because if I didn't see it, I would never know it was in my room. And I will never know what parts of my room it trailed its hairy legs on. There it was on my door once, poised in its repulsive moment of glory before I picked up a slipper and squashed its ego inside out. But sometimes, I do miss and the vermin scurries away, or worse, hides further in the room and I had to wait for it to come out again. It happened one late night when I was in high school. Needless to say, I didn't get enough sleep.

Once I was at some friends' business joint where there was a nearby a sewer opening. There they were, issuing forth from that damned hole and scurrying in that frenzied way that is theirs. Before anyone could say "Squash that bug!", some of the lot were flying and landing on the walls, and on my friend who was sitting outside. I saw everything from indoors, fortunately, the window and door being made of glass. However, I had endured a similar experience fairly recently.

I thought it was a less ominous insect that landed on my neck. Nevertheless, my hand instantly shot up to brush it away. I cannot forget the feelings of disgust and helplessness that surged through me the moment I touched it and realized what truly happened. It shouldn't happen to anyone who hates it or to just plain anyone, but well, shiznit happens. Good thing my friend brought disinfectant alcohol with her. I'm more than thankful nothing as horrible as it landing on my face or squirming into my clothes has happened, and I sincerely supplicate to my God that neither instance ever does.

Despite my irrational (?) loathing, I do know a few things about cockroaches. I absorb trivia about them from time to time. I've long since learned that there is no sure-fire way to exterminate the planet of them. There really are just a few species of the 3500 that belong to their kind that are considered pests. I know that there are others apart from the disgusting household kind that are, um, less disgusting. I've seen some of them in the wild during a field trip for that Entomology class. The kind I've seen are actually much more gentle-looking and not as menacing as our household Duprees, but that was probably because they were a smaller species. I am yet to meet a Madagascan hissing one, though. That would be interesting. But I thank my God once more that the common ones don't hiss at all. In the meantime, I should try to be less resentful of the unsettling (and somewhat poisonous) household centipede. They are reportedly the most effective predators of the pests at home.

I have no idealistic and unrealistic hopes of seeing a cockroach-free world. They are indeed a hardy species (check out info at Wikipedia), and I seriously believe that they will "inherit the earth", together with bacteria and the rest of the evolution-hardy bunch, once we humans fulfill our long-doomed extinction. They were here long before we came, and they will be here after we are gone. Survival of the fittest is just what it is. I will give the cockroaches that much, but I will not have them infesting or even just occasionally stealing into my house, into my room, or any such other place I consider my sanctuary. They are definitely not welcome!


P.S. What is the scientific term for fear of cockroaches?


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