RVC 1967-2010 - Ohana

"It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things."
— Lemony Snicket (Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid)

Walking up the hospital steps a chill of dread traveled up my spine, each step I took felt like I was treading on air, I was physically present, but I wasn’t really there. As I neared the room of my Uncle, the chill turned into a blind and desperate clawing, my whole body was shook by the sensation as I was greeted by the faces of my family who were gathered around the hallway. A moment of confusion came over me, “What was going on?” Thinking I was there to visit my Uncle, I had no clue why everyone was there. My mother came out of his room, and said four words: He has joined Papa.

Those four words sounded foreign to me, how could he have joined Lolo? I wondered, as I entered his room and saw my cousins, his children, whose faces were soaked with tears. The implication of those words hit me: My Uncle was gone.

In that moment it felt like I was propelled back in time 9 years ago. It was December 11, 2001. I was fifteen years old. My sister and I just left school en route for Perpetual Succour Hospital to visit our Grandfather who was battling lung cancer. When we arrived, our family was gathered around the hallway of ICU near room no. 7

I was there when I my Grandfather took his last breath; it was a moment that is seared in my memory forever. A few of us were ushered inside his room, while the rest looked on from the small window. My Grandfather was gasping, I could see his chest rising and falling., I don’t recall the instances in between, all I know was one minute he was breathing, and the next he just stopped, I remember I turned my attention to the box beside his bed (ECG) and I noticed that the lines were flat.

The wailing began. I felt like an audience member in a movie house I watched as my family cried the moment my Grandfather left this Earth. Oddly enough, I did not cry. I was hugging my cousin Tal, and I remember feeling completely numb inside.


I didn’t have a degree in psychology at that time, but I’m now aware that it was the first time I put up my most abused defense mechanisms, 1. Denial and 2. Emotional insulation and apathy.

The day after, I remember waking up dismissing everything as a bad dream. I noticed that nobody was around so I decided to go downstairs. Denial is a funny thing, it keeps your emotions at bay; and protects you from reality only for a certain amount of time. Same goes for being apathetic, not wanting to feel, suppressing the pain, is one exhausting endeavor, we just don’t know it until everything just spills over because you keep bottling it inside. When I was greeted by the sight of my Grandfather’s white casket in the living room, and I saw him inside, it was at that very moment that I was hit by the reality that he was gone, it wasn’t until then that I allowed myself to feel the pain.

When I knelt beside my Uncle’s body, I had no arsenal of defense mechanisms at my disposal to fight back reality. I felt tears sting my eyes as I rested my head beside his; and placed my hand on his chest. When I felt no heart beat, when I noticed that his skin was cold to the touch; all I could think of was: “No, not again”.

"That was the thing. You never got used to it, the idea of someone being gone. Just when you think it's reconciled, accepted, someone points it out to you, and it just hits you all over again, that shocking."
— Sarah Dessen (The Truth About Forever)

The next day strangely felt like déjà vu to me, I woke up and made my way downstairs to be greeted by a white casket, The same words echoed in my head: “No, not again”.

"If you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them? Did you spend the rest of forever with a hole inside you that couldn't be filled?"
— Jodi Picoult (Nineteen Minutes)

Recovering from the loss of my Grandfather was hard on us, he was such an amazing presence in our lives. When his candle burned out, we were left to grope in the darkness. Truth be told, we haven’t really recovered from his death, the death of my Uncle seems not only re-opened the wound, it is making it bleed and fester.

In a way, it is a greater loss now that my Uncle is gone. My Grandfather lived till he was old and gray. He witnessed graduations, weddings, and even the christenings of his grandchildren. My uncle has 3 children who have yet to cover those milestones. It seems more painful to me, the thing is, my mother, and her siblings had their Dad with them longer- when his time came, they had shared so much with him already that perhaps even if it was hard, maybe it was a little okay for him to go on his way.

I think of my cousins and feel a painful sensation just thinking about the years ahead. True, they have all of us to be their support system. They have their Mom, Uncles, Aunts, and tons of cousins to cheer them on for every important moment of their life, but in the end you can’t ignore the fact that there is one smiling face missing in the crowd.

"When we truly love, it is never lost. It is only after death that the depth of the bond is truly felt, and our loved one becomes more a part of us than was possible in life."
— Oriental tradition.

I think nobody is really able to fully recover from the death of a loved one, be it their spouse, parent, child, friend, pet or any important presence in their life. Bottom line, you are left to deal with the reality that they are no longer there.

Keeping that in mind, it now becomes our duty to move on. Moving on does not necessarily mean “to forget”, quite the opposite actually. Moving on, means keeping them alive with every thing that we do. Moving on, means making sure that you do every thing in your power to live a life that would make them proud, and prove that they did not die for nothing.

Truth be told, since my Grandfather’s death, closely followed by the death of my beloved dog KC, and now my Uncle Aldy – I can say that I certainly have a long-standing issue with death and bedlam that it leaves in its wake.

I don’t deal with it very well; in fact, it only pushed me to put up so many walls that are technically not healthy, but it is how I protect myself. That is how I cope. However, this recent loss hit me differently, it made me realize that I have to suck it up and do something.

Death is not a reason to give up on life. Death teaches us that life indeed is short, and that we can never tell when it is our time to go. That is why we must strive to make every moment count. We must take care of ourselves, and take care of others, so that when that day comes, we leave with only good thoughts, and not regret. We also leave the one’s we love with good memories that will live on.

Basically it’s all about OHANA, to borrow a quote from Lilo & Stitch: Ohana means family. Family means, nobody gets left behind or forgotten.

It may be hard to recover from the great loss of another member of our family, but in the end we are the only one’s left and we have to help each other as a family to keep his memory alive. Uncle Aldy lives on in all of us, and if we hold on to that, in some way, he lives forever.

Trying to Find that Feeling Again

At any moment he’ll be walking through that door, but he won’t find me behind it.

Cause the feeling is gone, and it just won’t come back anymore.

I worked so hard to find it.

They say that when the honeymoon period of the relationship ends, that’s when real relationship starts. Because after all the “newness” fades, a lot of factors come in to play that will either make or break your relationship. When the love bug’s bite heals, reality sets in, and the once giddy feelings that you had is replaced with a sense of normalcy. Things become routine and prosaic, which is not too bad right? Wrong! It must never become too mundane, that would be spelling out trouble.

Allow me to point out something that will shed light to this discussion. Relationships are like cake; it must be made with great care and remade with even greater care. The consistency must always be the same; quality should never be sacrificed for quantity. Nothing can compare to taking that first bite and have the flavor melt in your mouth. If it isn’t made well, it won’t evoke those same feelings. The point is, relationships or the dynamics within the relationship will always change over time, but one thing will always remain constant, and without it, the relationship will be like tasteless low quality cake. What is that thing you ask?

LOVE.

To quote Leonardo Da Vinci from the film Ever After, (one of my favorite movies of all time) “A life without love, is no life at all”.Love, like cake, must be made and remade, or it will lose its essence and die a natural death.

There are different kinds of love, and according to Plato there are two, Impersonal and Interpersonal love. Impersonal love is what you feel for certain objects, animals, or activities that you emotionally attach yourself to. They could also be your goals and the principles that you wish to achieve and uphold .Whereas Interpersonal love is what you feel when you connect with other human beings, and in this case, since I am discussing about relationships, that is the love that you feel for your significant other.

When in the process of spending time with said significant other, one goes through the requisite stages before finally landing the kind of love that propels people to say, commit to each other till death to they part.

Upon the initial stage one undergoes "Philia” which means “friendship” in modern Greek. It is a dispassionate virtuous love; which is a concept that was created by Aristotle. Philia is what solidifies bonds between two people. It is in theory, the base that keeps relationships together. This then moves to a stage called “Romantic love” this is the dating period, which is best defined by the “firsts” by firsts I mean, the usual things that boosts the relationship to the next level like well, to point the obvious, there’s the first time you say “I love you”, the first kiss, perhaps even the first fight & so on. This is also the stage that makes people do those rather crazy things, short of hiring a sky writer to broadcast one’s feelings to the world. Romantic love is all about excitement and anticipation, fireworks and sparks; butterflies in the stomach and goose bump on one’s skin – it is what makes relationships special. The next stage is perhaps the most intense one; it’s called Eros, which is Greek for “Passionate Love”. Eros is the stage wherein people come to appreciate their partners; they not only get to appreciate the beauty of the person, but also the beauty within the person. Loosely translated Eros could also mean “Love of body”. It’s basically being one with somebody on a level that no other person gets to experience. The 3 elements: friendship, romance, and passion is what fuels a healthy and loving relationship.

Not all relationships make use of all 3 elements. Some relationships begin with passion, but as we all know without a deeper foundation (friendship) when passion fizzles out, the bond is most likely to fade just as fast. Some relationships take out the element of “Philia”. These relationships are intense and exciting on the surface, however, if there is no fortifying bond (friendship) these people won’t be able to share a profound connection.

Essentially, friendship is very important in a relationship, but I’m not saying that the other two don’t matter. Going back to my metaphor, If we were to say that having a relationship is like baking a cake then, friendship is all the raw ingredients that are mixed in a bowl (Eggs, flour, yeast, etc.). Passion is the oven that is heated at just the right temperature to cook all those ingredients, Romance is the icing and sprinkles that make everything extra tasty and aesthetically pleasing.

Without friendship, well, technically you have no cake. Without passion, you don’t have anything to cook your ingredients and bring out the flavor. Without romance, simply put, you would have one dull looking cake.

So there you go, that’s a somewhat detailed dissection on love for you. As I have mentioned, love and all its sub-parts is the essence of a relationship.

So here’s the dilemma. What happens when you lose that loving feeling?

I’ve been up, down, trying to get that feeling again,

All around, trying to get that feeling again,

The one that made me shiver; make my knees start to quiver every time he walks in.

I’ve searched high, low, looked everywhere I possibly can,

But there’s just no trying to get that feeling again,

It seemed to disappear as fast as it came.

Lord knows it didn’t just go POOF overnight. It seems it has been disappearing year after year and I didn’t notice it until it was too late. Now all I feel, or rather, I don’t feel anything at all but an aching numbness.

Read every book, looked for every medication and poem,

Just to bring home that old sweet sensation

But it ain’t no use to me, to try to get that feeling again.

Where did it run to?

I thought I’ve done all that I could to keep the love burning,

But whatever I’ve done, I just haven’t done it too good,

Cause all that’s left is yearning.

I guess I’m still trapped in the past, unable to move on. Unable to let go of past grievances and inevitably like a house of cards, it all just came toppling down. In my defense, I have done every thing short of having a total nervous break down (which actually happened anyway) from trying to make my relationship perfect, which I think, cost me a great chunk of my sanity.

Is it wrong to want that old spark back, instead of living with the old shoe feeling? I have been disgustingly female about the whole thing from the start, expecting things that no normal male would dredge up on his own sans a literal neon colored sigh telling him what to do.

This is the greatest fault of all females since the world began. (I can imagine women in caves hinting their males to stop dragging them by their hair, and switch to holding hands instead har, har). Digressing aside, our greatest mistake is keeping quiet, expecting that the men in our lives have somehow moved up the evolutionary chart and developed the ability to read minds. Yep, it is a big mistake to keep one’s pie-hole shut when it comes to stuff that we want and need. I don’t know why I keep falling into that idea that the males that I read about, that happen to be products of a female author’s mind, know what to do. They seem to know how to melt a girl. It’s no secret that I take pleasure in reading those bloody romance novels to somehow live vicariously through the girl being wooed and pursued. Silly me, those men are the projections of the author’s hidden desires or even deep fantasies. Dear lord, I’ve become one of those females that are perpetually stuck in LA – LA land, drooling over fictitious men, I mean, what male would come up with stuff like that any way? Perhaps I should give them more credit,; maybe the resourceful ones have a few aces up their sleeve.

Honestly, the old shoe feeling may be comfortable and familiar, but if it is kept that way, it can ruin any relationship.

I want to find my way back to that place where everything was less of a disaster, and more of a warm cocoon that kept the cruel world at bay. Regrettably, I have lost that; I can’t seem to snap out of it.

The thought that seems to be playing on an unending loop in my head is “I don’t want to be like my Mother, married to someone who gives her more reasons to splinter apart than to radiate with joy”. Perhaps they were happy once before whatever foundation of their relationship crumbled away, and caused them to just drift apart. A trace of the affection is still there, but I know they lost something along the way.

Well, would you look at that, I have just spelled out a hint of my psychological profile, and perhaps for an encore I will narrate the horrors of being related to raving philanderers, libertines, and perpetual jerks, not to mention rather helpless and tolerant women who love to turn the other cheek. Ugh!

Fine, as corny as if may sound, I need to find my way back in to love. Get that warm and fuzzy feeling again., and work on my cake baking skills.

Maybe I was stupid for telling you goodbye

Maybe I was wrong for tryin' to pick a fight
I know that I've got issues
But you're pretty messed up too
Either way, I found out I'm nothing without you

Being with you
Is so dysfunctional
I really shouldn't miss you
But I can’t let you go…

'Cause we belong together now…

And yeah…

My Life Would Suck Without You

Being From The Planet Psycho

He stares at me as if in a trance, from the corner of my eye I can see him still as a rock,eyes glued on me. There are moments when I walk past him and I can feel his eyes trained on me, the back of my head might as well burst into flames. He stares at me constantly, at times I think he doesn’t notice that he is doing it, it has become quite a habit. He offers me food, and leaves me little knick-knacks that other people may think is a thoughtful gesture. He cannot refuse my requests and seems to lose his train of thought when I speak to him. I notice him starting at me again for the umpteenth time – I suppose I should be flattered, but truthfully I’m not.

Like some maiden in a harlequin novel, being pursued by a young man is the idyllic set-up for a romantic tale. To be desired, wooed, and in some way – worshiped would be any female’s dream. To be the object of someone’s undying - obsession -affection and devotion, what else can a girl ask for right?

Regretfully, I have to take a pin and quickly burst that notion, because this is not a harlequin novel, and if it was, the man who the readers assume to be the dashing love of the fair maiden, is actually the despicable villain of the tale.

Upon further reflection, you will realize that he was forward enough to presume that the maiden was returning his rather improper advances. Read between the lines, and you will notice the maiden quickly averting her eyes when he arrives, not for fear of blushing as he stares at her longingly, she does this to avoid meeting those lecherous and maniacal eyes. She quells the urge to shiver, not from pleasure mind you, but from unease.

Usually as the tale progresses the villain goes too far, and becomes a threat to the life of the maiden. He becomes consumed with the desire to posses her, which would be the apt moment for the maiden’s dashing love to come barreling in with his saber unsheathed to defend the maiden’s honor from being impugned by that dastardly cretin.

Ideally that’s what happens in harlequin novels, although that would be much appreciated (having a male come to your rescue and what not), in this century, some maidens can defend their honor well enough to take up their own saber and hack the villain to pieces.

I’m fairly certain that I am in no danger from the “villain”; I believe he’s just an over zealous if not over-friendly individual in a sense that his craziness“friendliness” came in the form of the overwhelming onslaught of his presence, with his desire to strike up inane tête-à-tête’s and what I assumed were friendly offerings of snacks. That’s what I thought at first, “he’s just too friendly” but then with the constant personal space invasion, prolonged ogling fests, and pseudo-anonymous offerings of food (which I sometimes feared were laced with some voodoo love charm) – friendliness warped into some miniscule form of harassment.

As much as possible, I eschew from thinking the worst of people. Like Clark Kent in Smallville, I have the exasperating ability to make excuses for people, and pardon them from what ever minor grievances that they commit., which has more or less become a detriment to my compos mentis. However, this nature of mine has an expiration period, and when that happens, those past grievances bubble up to the surface, which I use to feed my rage.

I handled the staring quite well (with some minor difficulty masking my disgust over being gawked at like a piece of meat on display). I entertain him when he gathers the nerve to talk to me, which I really do not mind at all, I do occasionally enjoy swapping stories with people, but sometimes he can be very impertinent and annoying.- I think he has no clear concept of “personal space”. Or even propriety. I accept his “gifts” graciously, even if I think it’s weird sometimes. I even tolerate the teasing from other people over his antics where I am concerned.

Taking all that into consideration, I have indulged this little act of mini-harassment err… over friendliness of his, but then he went and abused my good nature. One day I innocently spied pictures on his personal laptop which contained my personal pictures, I assumed that it was a website, I didn’t get a clear look at the lay out. I dismissed this as paranoia on my part, but couldn’t help but feel oddly discomfited.

Just the other day, upon borrowing my USB for some file transfer that I needed, he made some innocent remark about using his own USB because I had pictures in mine. It would seems innocent enough, true, I did have pictures in my USB in the folder labeled “Pictures”, any one who borrowed it would see the folder. Like I said, it seemed innocent enough, were it not for the odd gleam in his eye. Belatedly when the thought wedged itself in my mind, a chain of events caused the synapses in my brain to fire rapidly, which signaled a major light bulb moment A sick feeling seized me, those pictures that I saw on his laptop were copied from my USB. The creep copied my pictures!!!!

Common decency would have made other people simply add the files that I asked for to my USB, and eschew doing an Indiana Jones with my personal files. Decent human beings would ask permission to copy files; come to think of it, decent human beings would not want to copy personal pictures of other people.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury what else is there left to conclude, other that the fact that the person that I am dealing with has no sense of decency and is ergo not a normal human being. He is a being from the planet Psycho, a citizen of Creepy Ville, and an apt poster boy for the United Nations of budding stalkers.

Yes, some girls might (emphasis on might) become flattered by all this attention, but honestly if this were to spiral into something horrible, people might find my pictures on lamp posts and police stations bearing the message “Missing: have you seen this girl?”. I would probably be found in a hidden room in creepy guy’s basement, and most likely I’d be chained to the wall. – But I don’t see things going that way (one would hope so).

Again, I’m just exaggerating. Still, what he did was out of line and downright creepy.

I actually like confident men, but there is a difference to being confident and being too damn forward and shameless. A confident man who gets rejected by a girl can sheepishly grin and go back to his buddies to have a good laugh. A shameless creep who can somehow pass himself off as “confident” does not have the word “reject” in his dictionary. The word “reject” to him means, keep coming back for more, till she caves in.

Men like him think “No” actually means “Yes” and “Go away” means “Take me I’m yours”.

God save the women who fall prey to these lusty Lotharios. God help the women who actually buy their act.

I do not know if I am to blame for his atrocity or if it is a case of bad luck and poor judgment calls. If I look at this objectively I can honestly say that I was perhaps too lenient and should have put up a you-do-not-want-to-mess-with-me aura. I should have put up a stronger front instead of being overly charitable. Clark Kent and I may share the good nature, unfortunately, I have no super powers. Although, if I had his powers, considering my rage, I would not hesitate to super punch Mc Creepo back to his planet.

This is definitely something to add to my future manual for “How-to-detect-creeps for dummies”.

Note to self, and to other concerned females. A normal guy enjoys the view, but politely stops when it is no longer deemed proper, like say, short of burning a hole on your face from staring too damn long. A normal guy takes the hint when told “No” and graciously leaves you be, he does not pester you any more unless you initiate contact. Unless you reciprocate his feelings, welcome his advances, or tell him directly that you are into him, a normal guy does not assume that you like him when you smile at him, nor does he interpret that you are madly in love with him if you ignore him if he’s being a jerk. A normal guy may life to acquire your picture if you are so inclined as to bestow him the honor of keeping it, he does not however copy pictures from a social networking website and plaster it all over his walls. Big tip: normal guys may keep one, two or say, five pictures of you, the crazies make your picture their wallpaper (and I don’t mean for the phone or the computer).

The list goes on and on, I should take notes from Mariah Carey and write a song, how did her song go again?

Finally found a girl that you couldn't impress
Last man on the earth- still couldn't get this

You're delusional, you're delusional
Boy you're losing your mind
It's confusin yo', you're confused you know
Why you wasting your time?

Got you all fired up with your Napoleon complex
See right through you like you're bathin' in windex
Ooh Ohh Ohh boy why you so obsessed with me?

Someone To Watch Over Me

I'm standin' on the bridge
I'm waitin' in the dark
I thought that you'd be here by now
There's nothing but the rain
No footsteps on the ground
I'm listening but there's no sound

I once had this really vivid dream. It was the night before Christmas Eve and as expected I was overwhelmed by a feeling of great longing. What was I longing for exactly? Something or rather someone. This happens to me every year; I suppose the holiday blues can get the best of me sometimes. It was three in the morning and I was bundled up in bed. I hugged my pillow tight as a feeling crept up in my heart squeezing it like a vice. I closed my eyes and willed the feeling away, and as I slowly drifted off to sleep little did I know that, that feeling would permeate into the inner recesses of my unconscious mind to bring forth the very presence that I longed to see.

I was lying in the middle of a garden that was blanketed with snow; clad in a white ball gown (weird, I know), but the thing was, regardless of my flimsy clothing, I was impervious to the cold. I felt nothing, and I did not question that anomaly. I was just placidly staring at the sky unaware of the icicles forming on my skin. As I was lying there on the snow, surrounded by a barren garden that was once bursting with life, somehow, it was fitting to be a part of it, for I too was devoid of life. To my breast I clutched a black rose, impervious to my silent heart.

Isn't anyone tryin' to find me?
Won't somebody come take me home?
It's a damn cold night
I'm tryin' to figure out this life
Won't you take me by the hand?

Take me somewhere new

I don't know who you are
But I'm, I'm with you
I'm with you

As I stared at the sky, unblinking, unfeeling, a figure slowly approached me. As it neared me it cast a shadow and blocked my view of the sky. I directed my eyes at the stranger, not feeling anything, not fear, annoyance, nothing. We locked eyes and then he spoke in a voice that echoed in a heavenly way: “Why are you lying in the snow?” I shrugged and answered simply, “I don’t know”. Then I looked away. The figure crouched “Take my hand”. I stared at the hand that he extended to me and wondered if it was wise to take it, I was perfectly content lying in my bed of snow, “Just take my hand” he implored, “This is no place for you”.

It's a damn cold night
Tryin' to figure out this life
Won't you take me by the hand?
Take me somewhere new
I don't know who you are
But I'm, I'm with you

I hesitated, who was this stranger who somehow appeared out of nowhere? What business did he have intruding on my peace? As these thoughts churned in my head, he never withdrew his hand.

“Just take my hand” he says again, “No one should be here out in the cold”.

“I don’t feel anything” I told him, “I don’t feel cold at all”.

“Please take my hand” he beseeched me in that sing-song voice of his.

I don’t know what it was that compelled me, his voice or perhaps how his eyes somehow had the ability to look into my soul, I took his hand, which made him smile. “Don’t let go okay? Do not let go” I nodded and he pulled me up.

His hand was warm, and like some jolt of magic, I felt warm as well. from the very tips of my toes to my head. I looked down and questioned my vision as the rose that I was clutching turned red; that same color dripped to my gown and infused it with color. I gasped as the snow seemed to thaw around us bringing sunshine, the sound of birds chirping, and the full bloom of spring. I took all of this in feeling that strange warmth that was blazing from the hand that I was holding, I gazed at the stranger beside me and blinked. It was as if I was seeing him for the first time. He had eyes that reminded me of hot chocolate and a smile that warmed me to the core and brought a magical thump to my heart. Twas then I realized that he was the source of all this unexplainable warmth.

“Who are you?” I asked him.
He smiled, “Don’t you know?”
I shook my head, “No, who are you?”
His eyes glowed in silent mischief, he leaned forward and whispered. “My name is the one you whisper in your sleep…”
I stared at him, willing him to claim it was a jest. “You can’t be”
He grinned, “Yeah I am, I’m just taking a human form at the moment…”

In my shock I l forgot my promise and let go of his hand. I heard him gasp as the rush of the bitter cold of winter enveloped us and the garden was bled out of color and life.

“What’s happening?” I stared in horror as the last traces of blooms turned black and was blanketed once again by the snow. I turned to ask him to bring it back but I lost all coherent thought as I watched him fading along with the garden.

“NO!” I screamed, and reached out only to feel nothing.

“I’ll watch over you” He said, his eyes conveyed his sadness, and as his ghostlike body slowly dissolved into the wind, the last thing I saw was him in his true form.

The image broke my heart. Once again I was left in the cold, but not feeling the cold. I sagged to my knees staring out at the barren land of white that surrounded me feeling so utterly empty and alone.

I'm looking for a place
I'm searching for a face
Is anybody here I know?
'Cause nothing's going right
And everything's a mess
And no one likes to be alone

As Christmas rolled by rather quickly, fireworks boomed in the background and I was in my room sitting on the floor trying to comfort five little puppies that were frightened by all the commotion. I played songs t o drown out the noise, I held each one of them hoping to calm them. The feeling that crept up the day before came back with a vengeance, I suppressed the urge to laugh or cry at how hapless I was, but before I could do that, the song changed… I froze.

There's a somebody I'm longin' to see
I hope that he, turns out to be
Someone who'll watch over me

I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood
I know I could, always be good
To one who'll watch over me

I stared at the speakers and hugged my knees, something let out a little yelp in between my legs, In my bewilderment, I had all but forgotten the little ball of fur that sat there. I picked him up and gave him a little kiss. He then looked up at me with the same brown eyes as the man in my dream, and at that very moment what ever feeling that held me prisoner suddenly released me. I hugged my puppy close, and in some way even if I was alone, I knew that someone was watching over me...

Kissing Frogs

In the words of the song made famous by Rhianna

“But you put on quite a show, really had me going. Now it’s time to go, curtain’s finally closing. That was quite a show, very entertaining. – but it’s over now, go on and take a bow…”

In a world full of pretenders, it is hard to distinguish the real thing when you are surrounded by poor replicas. Or better yet, it’s hard to find your one true love in a crowd, your true Prince Charming when you are surrounded by actors putting on a show, telling you what you want to hear and doing things just to razzle dazzle you, but ultimately they just hurt you in the end.

Prince Charming indeed. The stuff of dreams, and nightmares alike.

I waited for my fairytale,

Waiting for Prince Charming to come up to me on his white horse

To take my hand, and to the sunset off we ride

The fairy tale ending is not as magical as it seems

Then my eyes opened, and twas then I realized

Happily Ever After was just a dream

Fairy tales are nothing but lies.

I held on to my happy thoughts so that I could touch the skies

But then a nightmare popped into my head

And propelled me off my bed

Pixie dust does not encourage flight

Happy thoughts don’t make you fly...

When I was thirteen I was obsessed with the idea of falling in love. Little did I know that years later that obsession has ruined me for life.

Back in the day, when the tale of the Princess and the Frog was told, it usually went “And the princess took the frog,, kissed it, and suddenly the frog turned into a handsome Prince”. Times have changed it seems, for in Disney’s remake of the classic fairytale, it goes: “The penniless Prince who was turned into

a frog finds a Princess atop a balcony gazing at a star, hoping to make a wish for her dreams to come true. He asks the Princess (but truthfully, it was a regular waitress dressed as a Princess) to kiss him, The “Princess” totally repulsed by this idea, stares at the frog and thinks “Uh-uh no, way”, but the frog Prince promises to reward her (when in truth his parents cut him off, and he has plans to marry a wealthy heiress), The “Princess” unaware of this, thinks of her own need for money, which will allow her to put up the restaurant of her dreams, so she reluctantly acquiesces. Suppressing the urge to gag,, she takes the frog and kisses him. Unfortunately, both of them did not get the outcome that they expected. The Prince was still a slimy frog, and in kissing the Prince, this turned our girl into a frog as well.”

The pair go off to have a rather profound and magical adventure with the aid of a talented jazz playing Alligator, an optimistic firefly, and a very vague voodoo lady. Of course, without giving much away, in the end, both the frog Prince and the Waitress were turned back into humans. Extracting the Disney magic and epiphany- inducing musical numbers, what did I learn from the tale? You can keep dreaming of Prince Charming, and hope to find him someday, but that whole kissing frogs and finding Princes is overrated. Here’s the deal,, like I said, I’m pulling out the Disney magic, taking it from the revamped story – when you make deals with a charming a frog Prince, who claims that you have the power to turn him into who he really is, a “Prince”, it would be wise to hike up your dress and run the other way. Lest you ignore my advice and go ahead and kiss him, you better believe it that not only will you end up with a rather charming frog, (who will never turn in to a Prince), you will end up a frog yourself.

You do not have the power to change someone, only they have the power to change themselves. Perhaps you may inspire, or become the proper impetus that will compel that person to change, but you will never really be able to will them to change. That is just a futile and horrible endeavor that will leave you dejected, or worse, irreparably broken in the process.

All girls, or maybe those who were (brainwashed) err… captivated enough by all the tales of magic and finding true love can attest that they wish to find their version of “Prince Charming”, which is akin to finding a needle in a haystack. I’m even thinking that the Prince Charming bloodline has been wiped out by callous unprincipled brutes, wannabe knights-in rusty armor, and clumsy court jesters who aspire to have their very own Princess, or in some cases considering Prince Charming is M.I.A they are lucky enough to land a Princess. Like I said, some (or all girls, give or take) want to end up with Prince Charming, but if they are not careful enough, they might end up with a frog masquerading as a Prince.

Come to think if it, it is an equally wonderful outcome to be found instead of being the one doing the finding…. Allow me to explain.

Every girl who saw Prince Phillip kiss the Sleeping Beauty (Aurora) sighed and wished for a similar fate (minus the menacing Dragon guarding the Castle, and sleeping for a hundred years of course). I mean what girl would not swoon over the idea of a guy braving the odds of goings through a forest of thorns, then facing the threat of being barbequed by a fire-breathing Dragon, (an evil fairy incognito to boot-) just to breathe life into you with true love’s kiss?

The best thing other than finding Prince Charming is if Prince Charming finds you first. – with the bonus that he has gone through hell and back for you. Hey, if the guy isn’t given a hard time, he will most likely treat you like his chamber maid and not like a Princess.

As my Mother loves to remind me (not this eloquently, though):

Men who pursue you have to work to earn your love. It is their privilege, not their god-given right to be loved by a girl like yourself. Make it too easy, give in too quickly, and they will either walk all over you. OR they will walk away from you.

Men after all are hunters by nature (popular culture seems to say so); they love the thrill of the chase, they love a good hunt. I mean how boring could that be if the deer just goes “Okay you got me, strike true hunter, I’m good as lunch”

Examples of the men who had to work to earn their Princesses:

Prince Phillip (Sleeping Beauty) hacked at a forest of thorns, did battle with a fire-breathing Dragon / evil fairy, and braved Aurora’s morning breath.

The Beast (Beauty and the Beast) after being cursed for his horrible attitude by an old woman,

The Beast a.k.a Prince Adam (yeah, he has a name) tries to work on his attitude problem while wining and dinning with the girl who may possibly be the key to break his curse. Throw in an angry mob or two and the knowledge that your life is measured by the number of petals on a rose, the Beast had some major work to do before Belle’s tearful “I love you” presto change-oed him into… Prince Adam.

Prince Eric (The Little Mermaid) manned a sunken ship to defeat the super-sized sea witch Ursula.

Let’s just skip Aladdin, the Prince from Cinderella and Snow White, the point is, the abovementioned Princes had to go to the moon and back for their fair maidens. Any girl in the real world who demands less is well, low maintenance, desperate, or is in need of a self-esteem boost. I’m not advocating male torture here, just the proper care of females. Females are to be cherished, not to be displayed like some collectible knick-knack and left out to gather dust till the interest wanes then you move on to the new and improved version of said collectible knick-knack.

Okay, where was I before I was waylaid by all the thoughts of how men bore easily and must be taught to know better? Ahhh…. Yes, the best thing other than finding Prince Charming is if Prince Charming finds you first.

In the film August Rush, August is asked a question that pretty much struck me in its simplicity.

Wizard: What do you want to be in the world? I mean the whole world. What do you want to be? Close your eyes and think about that.

August Rush: Found.

One word, five letters – FOUND.

In the end we all want to be found. To be cherished It is not really about finding Prince Charming.. That’s just a dream, an image of perfection that some girls wish they could have. All things considered, it would be nice to live one moment of being something special than live a lifetime of being nothing at all. That is what finding Prince Charming is all about, being special enough to get the guy, or being special enough for the guy to take notice. It’s finding that guy who can pick your face out in a crowd. The one who approaches you when you are huddled in the corner all by yourself. The one who really sees you, when the rest of the world just passes you by. Like I said, it’s about being found.

But then, some of us remain invisible, sitting by the corner staring as people standing cheek to cheek dance the night away. They comfort themselves with the idea of make-believe instead.

And now I'm all alone again nowhere to turn, no one to go to
Without a home without a friend without a face to say hello to
And now the night is near
Now I can make believe he's here

Sometimes I walk alone at night
When everybody else is sleeping
I think of him and then I'm happy
With the company I'm keeping
The city goes to bed
And I can live inside my head

On my own
Pretending he's beside me
All alone
I walk with him till morning
Without him
I feel his arms around me
And when I lose my way I close my eyes
And he has found me

In the rain the pavement shines like silver
All the lights are misty in the river
In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight
And all I see is him and me forever and forever

And I know it's only in my mind
That I'm talking to myself and not to him
And although I know that he is blind
Still I say, there's a way for us

I love him
But when the night is over
He is gone
The river's just a river
Without him
The world around me changes
The trees are bare and everywhere
The streets are full of strangers

I love him
But every day I'm learning
All my life
I've only been pretending
Without me
His world would go on turning
A world that's full of happiness
That I have never known

I love him
I love him
I love him
But only on my own

Prince Charming, the stuff of dreams for those who find him, the stuff of daydreams for those who don’t,and the stuff of nightmares for those who unmasks the pretender under the handsome face.

Do we really have to kiss a hundred frogs before we find our Prince? The better question is, do we really need to find Prince Charming?

As the message in Disney’s The Princess and The Frog goes: What you want, is not what you always need. Ergo, taking the dream of Prince Charming away, bottom line, you just need to find someone to love, who will love you back- and if he happens to come with a white horse and a Castle that wouldn’t be so bad.