5 Relationship Reminders from Ruby Sparks

Ruby Sparks is a romantic fantasy film about a writer struggling to create another phenomenal book to follow his first big literary break. His first book was a masterpiece of his very active imagination. In his great attempt to awaken his strong imagination, the fictional character in the book he's writing has miraculously come to life. Pretty cool to sleep single and wake up finding a hot red-head cooking in your kitchen in her underwear. 

On initial call, it would probably look like just another love story with a twist inspired from the 2006 drama-fantasy film, Stranger Than Fiction. Upon closer look, however, there are a lot of hidden relationship advice we can unearth in this movie that aren't usually found in regular chick flicks. 

Here are 5 lessons I've learned from the movie:

1. Being clingy is creepy. Remember when Ruby cried when Calvin let go of her hand because he needed to take a call? Of course, that was an exaggerated way to depict being clingy but it sent the message clear. By holding on to a person too tight, you keep them from breathing. You lock them up in a possessive shell where you leave them to choke.

2. It's not normal to ask your partner to be happy always. Again, in the movie, it was all a bit too much when Ruby was bouncing around with a retarded smile on her face for weeks. True, you want to be in a healthy relationship with a happy person, but you can never escape the fact that every person is entitled to feel things. Your partner will be sad, angry, stressed, happy, excited, and all that. Those emotions will keep you and your partner humans.

3. Being a control freak is a recipe for disaster. Well, you are not a remote control and your partner is not a television set. You and your partner may share a romantic bubble when you're alone but you both have separate lives. Until your partner realizes that he/she is acting like a soldier following your every order, your commander-in-chief days are over. 

4. Obsession is never healthy. In one of their most sensible songs, Spice Girls warned us that "too much of something is bad." It keeps you and your partner from socializing and meeting new people. Your partner is not the only person in the world you can talk to, you know? If you don't have friends, you can pay a shrink to listen to you just like what Calvin did in the movie. There's always an option. Letting your life revolve around one person stops you from living. 

5. You can't be in a relationship with yourself. Logically, Calvin was having a relationship with himself because Ruby Sparks was a product of his imagination; his brainchild. No matter how much you try to fix yourself, there will always be fragments of you that even can't be change. We're all imperfect. Live with it. And if your partner can't embrace you and your flaws, then it's time to call quits. 

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Photo taken from this page.

On Losing a Best Friend

He was the only person you depended on during high school. You would never have made it out of that dreaded place if it weren't for his help. He was your teenage hero, your confidante. When the entire world judged you, he defended you. When you were chained down by depression and shame, he freed you. While other people offered their friendships in exchange for something, he lent his shoulders and arms for free.

All of those are suddenly nowhere to be found. You haven't noticed that it has been more than a year since you last saw each other. You suddenly realized how things fell apart from that point forward. During that last face-to-face conversation, he told you his stupid decision of staying away because his stupid-excuse-of-a-girlfriend asked him to. That moment, all you wanted was to grab his hand and tell him to snap out of it. But you didn't. Instead, you gave him his freedom and prayed that one day he'll wake up from that trans. You hoped he'd realize the value of your friendship and that he'd come back. You know that after making and tolerating mistakes, if he comes back, you would welcome him with an open heart. You know that after hurting and getting hurt, if he comes back, you will help him recover from the bruises and not judge him for whatever had happened. You know that despite everything, if he comes back, he will still have you. 

Recently, you see him only in your dreams and you're thankful that at least in your head, nothing has changed between you two. Though it has been more than a year since you last saw him and talked to him over the phone, it does not change the fact that you are still hoping. You do not have the slightest idea as to how he's doing right now but it does not mean you've never asked or you do not care anymore. Because if he only knew how much you've missed him, you know he'd regret ever leaving.

Right now, you are scared: scared of the possibility that you're the only one hoping to patch things up; afraid you're the only one who wants back in to the friendship; fear you might be disillusioned that while he is completely satisfied with his life without you, you're still waiting in uncertainty. These thoughts are the acids that eat away your faith of him ever coming back. But you promised. You vowed you'd wait and trust that he'll come back. So you wait.

As you tread on to different paths, you could only focus on the good memories and the lessons you've learned from him while looking forward to meeting him at the crossroads. Though it's difficult to admit, part of you is actually hoping that he found love in the arms of that despicable woman. Otherwise, most of these would've gone to waste. It surprised you at first but after thinking clearly, you're not mad. You will never have the heart to get angry at him. 

You were not supposed to write about this but your spontaneity betrays you. And as you've finally decided just drop it for now, it rained. And oh, the rain. It takes you back to high school. 

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Some lines taken from my previous blog.

Shoti and the Bazooka

I've always been proud of my family. Despite the lack of financial stability, our parents made sure they instilled in us every essential thing a moral person should have. What happened a couple of months ago was just another proof that we were raised well.

My brother was alone in their classroom. I think he stayed there for a couple of minutes to wait for someone. When he was about to leave, he saw a camera set left in one corner. He didn't exactly remember what model it was, but he described it as one of those cameras we call bazooka. Whenever my brother and I saw a photographer using tall lenses, we used to joke around and say it's actually a terrorist with a bazooka, ready to shoot his target with one simple click. 

That's the kind of camera he saw. At that very moment, he thought of taking it to the pawnshop. He knows that the value of a camera like that can help out with the family's finances. He thought of the temporary comfort it would give all of us. It could take care of the groceries and his allowance for a couple of months. He thought it would be a breather for our eldest sister for a while since she has been giving a lot of her salary to the family that time. He even thought of buying his own laptop because the one he was using is third-hand. And really, it's the slowest device.

My brother's heart battled with his conscience. He's well aware that our family is not doing so well financially. He's the only one left studying in our family, and he knows his education (at that time) was a bit too costly. We only agreed to send him there because it's a good university and we all believe in quality education. We want to give him his best chance no matter what it takes. He's been meaning to help all of us out. However, he knows that taking something that's not his, expensive or not, is not the Christian thing to do.

Along with the camera, he saw a wedding invitation and a bus ticket from and to the province. He thought that maybe the owner was from the province. Maybe the parents of the owner worked so hard to get this for his child. My brother said he thought of me; that if I left my camera somewhere and lost it, he knew how disappointed our father would be. My camera was a gift because I achieved something from school, but even though papa always says I deserve it, we all know it cost the family. Shoti knew how the owner and the owner's family would feel if the camera was taken.

Of course, my brother's morals won. He took it and told his friends about it.  His friends joked around and said they should take it to the pawnshop and split the money among them (crazy kids). Not long after that, he saw a girl running around the hallway, crying like hell, searching the room for something. My brother knew he found the owner. He approached the girl and asked her what she's so upset about. The girl managed to mumble and say she forgot her camera but she wasn't sure where she left it. My brother could tell that she was desperately looking for it and that it was very valuable to her. Shoti told her that he found it, and the delight in her teary-eyes just warmed my brother's heart. 

The girl was so happy that shoti was a good enough person not to think of keeping something that's not his. She offered to give my brother a certain amount of money but he refused. She insisted, but he still refused. He said the only thing that he wanted was to find the owner and return the camera. I could only imagine the gratitude in the girl's heart.

My brother is the kind of boy who hangs out with his friends after school and goes home maybe an hour or two after their dismissal. That afternoon, my brother felt so uncomfortable that he went home early. He couldn't explain his emotions but he knew he had to go home...fast. 

When he got home, he startled my mother as he fell into tears the moment he stepped inside. He told her what happened and explained the helplessness he felt; how bad he felt for being tempted to sell it; how bad he felt that he couldn't help the family just yet; how bad he felt when he thought about how hard it would be if our family lost something valuable. Mama was moved to tears as she felt my brother's pain. More than that, she cried because right then, she was proud to see what kind of heart her son has. Innocent. Pure. Brave.

My sister told me this story right after my first job interview. Hearing that was just another good motivation for me to do good in whatever I do and to never disappoint my family. There have been many sacrifices along the way, but knowing that the people I'm doing it for are the ones I love most, it's all worth it.

As for my brother, I think it's so cool of him to avoid the blow of that bazooka. That's pretty awesome.

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From my previous blog. Edited. Photo taken from this page. 

Life of a P.U.A

Admit it. When you know the ins and outs of the game, you're a pro. Free drinks, free food, I'll-drive-you-home offers. Things often go your way. The best part: constant supply of ego-boosters. But really, being a pick-up artist is not what you want to be forever. The satisfaction from it is surface level. There happens to be no permanent sense of fulfillment. And the feeling gets worse the better you get at it. Two main reasons. If you're naturally a bad person, you eventually get bored. But, if you have a good heart, you'll eventually realize that leading people on or using them for your shallow intentions is not worth the bad rep you've made/you'll make for yourself. It's fun while you're at the peak, but soon as you outgrow it, everything goes downhill. You'll soon see how much time you've wasted on something that might ruin other people's hope on love and on something that gives you no lasting pleasure. And worst of all, you will soon see other people settling and growing with their true loves while you are stuck in your own world called selfishness. Breaking news: No one wants to be a part of another person's selfish world because individually, we all have our selfishness to take care of. 

Admit it. You don't really want this. But if you want to try it, then by all means, waste no more time and just do it. Just don't be surprised when you'll have nothing to say for yourself by the end of it all. Just saying.

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From my previous blog. Photo taken from this page. 

Morning Get-Away

Everything around her was a blur as she was walking briskly, almost sprinting, to catch the next train. She’s not the type who glides through that pool of hustling office goers and students during rush hour. But what happened that morning made her feel like she had no choice but to storm out of their apartment as quickly as she could.

By force of habit, her feet led her to the station. The smell of newly cooked juicy hotdogs welcomed her and got her stomach grumbling. She realized she left before she even touched her food. A small change from the day before was still in her jacket pocket but it wasn’t enough to last her the day. That much could only get her breakfast or buy her a roundtrip train ticket. If only her purse was on the table near the door, she could have snatched it on her way out. But she might have left it on the couch, or on top of the TV, or on the kitchen counter. She wasn’t sure anymore. Thinking too much made her head ache.

The sudden rush of emotions and frustrations made her want to just cry. She was about to but self-inflicted public humiliation was the last thing she needed then. She forcefully swallowed the forming tears back in. It was but a brave attempt of containment that only lasted until she saw, from among the busy crowd, a face she knew so well she couldn’t forget it even if she tried. It came dashing to her direction, carrying her purse and a brown bag.

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From my previous blog. Photo taken from this page.

A Bowl of Soup

The man almost stormed out of the house when I started saying hurtful words. I almost went out for the night  just so I wouldn't have to stay with the man under one roof. The man almost hit me. I almost spat at the man's face. We looked at each other with angry eyes. The woman and the boy begged for us to stop. It was two o'clock in the morning. Only our angry screams echoed in the neighborhood.

It was like a battle. Neither side wanted to accept defeat. It ended with the man subconsciously seeking comfort, and found it in the gentle arms of the woman; while I locked myself up in the dark, grateful of the boy for being the strong knight.

There was calmness after the war. Every wounded soldier fell in silent recovery.

It's true, what they say. There's always a rainbow after the storm. Every cloud has a silver lining.

Peace came through silence, not between the noise.

...

The man prepared warm soup for me. We both still have not said much to each other. There are figurative bruises in both our faces, but there is not a trace of hate in our hearts. That's what the love of a family does.

A bowl of soup to warm the hearts that turned cold. Always been the best way to throw in the towel.

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From my previous blog. Edited. Photo taken from this page.

Confusing Fairy Tales with Reality

The story ENDS when the prince wakes the princess up with a kiss. This did not happen in his reality. His fairy tale day started when he kissed his princess and woke her up from her sleep. It ended when she told  him not to be sad that she already has another prince she truly loves; then follows this statement up with a bittersweet embrace that lasted only an eternal second long.

The story ENDS when the princess succeeds in making the prince realize that the new woman he's with is not the mermaid he was supposed to catch. This did not happen in her reality. In truth, the prince is not interested in catching just one fish. She was not the princess. She's just a pretty puny fish placed among all those other elegant gilled-creatures in his aquarium.

The story ENDS when the princess marries her prince - her first and only love. This did not happen in her reality. She thought that her relationship with this guy was already pretty long and was strong enough to weather any storm. Little did she know that a relationship's strength does not entirely depend on the length of time they've been a couple. The miles did not only create distance. It created gap.

The story ENDS when the prince busts the door open at the last minute and saves the princess from hopelessness. This did not happen in her reality. Standing by the door every single day became a part of her daily activity. Hope drives her to think that any day might be the day of her prince's arrival. It got her collecting patience in an imaginary jar made of imaginary tears.

Fairy-tales are placed under fictional stories for a reason.

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From my previous blog. Edited. Photo taken from this page.

Number One Man

For the past few years, I've been having countless arguments with my father. We argued about almost everything. It started when I chose to shift to another degree program. That really pissed him off. I used to be really close to him, but through the years, I just somewhat lost my connection with him... Until last night...

I was having a difficult time breathing. I'm asthmatic, but I didn't really know what triggered last night's attack. The doctors said it must have the seafood I ate at dinner. We just could not pinpoint which one. I ate shrimps, crabs, octopus, fish, and all. See, I have never been allergic to seafood, until yesterday. My air passage was blocked. It felt a little sore.

It was raining cats and dogs. Papa's schedule for this morning was set. He had to wake up early for a wedding. The bride and groom kinda rented our ride to make it the bridal car. He volunteered to help set the car up. It was a little pass 10 when I had an attack, and papa had no choice but to change and drive me to the nearest hospital. At first, he was really annoyed because I had to drag him out of bed. He mumbled things and even asked if I got drunk this week. But when he saw me get really pale, he started panicking. He quickly grabbed the keys, his cap, and me.

The moment the engine roared, he asked me if I was okay. I wasn't. But I could feel him getting tensed, so I forced myself to talk and told him to drive safely. The road was really wet and the rain was pouring heavily. I was on the passenger's seat, struggling to breathe, and he was beside me, cursing the drivers as if they can hear him. He kept checking on me, saying my name in with a question mark in his tone, making sure that I did not pass out, saying three words over and over and over every time I responded.

"Hang in there"

I do not remember how many times he said it, but I choked back tears every single time he did. I didn't want to cry. But more than that, I knew that if I gave way to my tears, he would worry even more. I couldn't bear that.

I was almost blacking out when we stepped into the emergency room of the hospital. We've been through that exact same situation hundreds of times already, but for the past years, he would force me to talk and tell the doctors my pain. Last night, however, was different. He did not let me talk. He explained everything to the medical people as quickly as he could, and then, they did what they had to do.

Took my weight, let me lie down in bed. Took my blood pressure, measured my temperature, and calculated my pulse rate. There were like two nurses assisting me the doctor. A tube was placed in my nostrils for the oxygen, and a bigger tube in my mouth for the nebulizer. While I was trying real hard to breathe properly with the help of those apparatus, they injected me with an anti-allergy shot, that would help my body not turn even more red than it already was last night and so my air passage could relax and open again.

My world started to spin around (effect of the medicine injected). I looked around and I saw my father just looking at me from a short distance. I noticed he didn't have time to bring his jacket with him. He just wore a cap. I could tell that his body was feeling a bit cold but I could also sense that all his thoughts were directed to me. Seeing him like that, I wanted to get better right away. He looked really worried.

When the doctor stepped away from my bed, she talked to my dad and gave him a list of medicines I have to take for a couple of days. He listened intently and asked a few questions along the conversation.

I was feeling really high and my eyes were heavy when he walked toward my bed, leaned to my ear, and whispered that he'll be back. He just needed to buy the medicines prescribed for me. I seriously couldn't feel my entire body but at least I managed a light nod. He squeezed my hand lightly before he left. That squeeze, I felt.

I dozed off in bed for a few hours then the nurse woke me up. I needed to nebulize again. The moment I opened my eyes, I saw my father resting his head on the right side of my bed, a few inches away from my right hand, like the typical hospital scenes you see in the movies. I smiled. He woke up with bed marks on his slightly wrinkled face and directly stood up as the nurse placed that tube in my mouth again. The effect of the medicine was still kicking in and so I dropped like three times while puffing. Papa had to slap my face lightly every time that happened because it would be such a waste of medicine if I don't take in most of it. The doctor made me sleep for a couple more hours and then decided that I could be an out-patient for the night, which relieved my father.

On our way home, he put the seat belt around me before driving. It was the first time he did that. I slept again along the way.

When we got home, he led me to my room, made me drink that tablet as instructed by the doctor, and told me to just rest so the medicine could have its full effect. He said he'll clean the car so it would look clean for the wedding in the morning. The wedding, I forgot about that. 

After a little while, I felt my father slide beside me in bed and said he'll look after me for the night. It was just like how he took care of me when I was little. Once again, I felt like I was 5. He didn't kiss my forehead like he used to though, and he did not hug me the way he did when I was a little girl. But he did make me feel taken care of and loved. I didn't see the father I had yelling matches with the other night. I saw the father I thought I lost.

He made me realize last night that just because I grew up doesn't mean I'm not his little girl anymore. I still am. And just because we had countless fights doesn't mean he's not my number one man anymore. He still is. Always and forever.

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From my previous blog. Edited.

If I Said YES to Every "HIM"

If I said yes to just about every "him", right now I probably would have been...

... the girlfriend of a lead guitarist

... a lead guitarist of a band

... the girlfriend of a DJ who's actually a closet singer

... the girlfriend of a poet/ bass guitarist

... a smoker

... the girlfriend of a punk turned rapper

... the girlfriend of an unemployed playboy

... the girlfriend of just another jerk

... the girlfriend or a booty-call of a dancer from an internationally known dance crew

... the second wife of a drunkard

... the first wife of a 40-year old

... just a wife

... my best friend's girlfriend

... a compulsive liar's girlfriend

... a model's girlfriend

... married next year

... pregnant (if not a mother yet)

... a saint

... dead

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From my previous blog. Edited. Photo taken from this page.

The Kiss

I remember it clearly. Vivid and in full color. The room I shared with two other girl friends was in a chaotic after-party condition.

I remember a stock of unwashed dishes cluttered in the kitchen sink. It was not many, but it was not tidy. I remember spotting a shot glass and an empty bottle of tall rum on top of our plastic, and only, table. They stood there idly among the pile of study materials, somewhat out-of-place. We haven't swept the floor because my roommates and I woke up late that morning and we all had to rush to our classes with no breakfast and terrible headaches.

To my unnecessary defense, I had just changed my sheets that time, though they didn't look new because they got crumpled inside my jungle of a closet. So no, our room was not always the "girls' room" type but who cares? I have had some of the best memories of my early years in college kept safe inside the four corners of that room. One in particular, was my first kiss.

I remember it clearly. Vivid and in full color. The room I shared with two other girl friends was in a chaotic after-party condition.

But no disorder could break through the bittersweet melancholic calmness that wrapped around the two souls who were left alone in the room. There was a radiating feeling of hope and violated expectations... of love and of heartbreak. I stood inches away from him, feet rooted on the ground and head bowed down in helpless sobbing. He stood inches away from me, feet rooted on the ground and head raised up to keep the tears from flowing. It must have been the dead air that gave him the courage to take a step closer...and then another until we were only a breath away. It must have been the way he felt about the poor look on my face that made him pull my chin up so that I meet his stare. That moment, I was not sure about anything. My vision was too misty for sight.

But I can say for certain that it was my heart that made me close my eyes when I felt his lips on mine. Even more sure that it was my hopeless-romanticism that made me ask for one more after we pulled apart.

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Photo taken from this page.

Stay Still or Run Away

I believe in a lot of things; a few are floating along my brain like fine cotton in the field. 

The miracles. Breaking the high jump record by a centimeter. Landing that one position which thousands have applied for. Feeling her soft lips pressed against yours for the very first time.

The second chances. Going for another jump to keep you in the game. Finding another job that's better suitable for you. Making up for the hesitant first kiss.

The callings. Being a high jumper. Becoming a manager. Winning her heart.

There's one thing I believe in, however, that I find most stiff and uncontrollable. It minds not my convenience nor yours. It is partial to no one and it pardons no one. It comes when it must. It unties the pretzeled knots to set matters straight. It usually takes a determined heart and good timing to cope up with this. If it were a person, it would be a head of an empire who gets what he desires at a whim and does what he wants without inhibition.

I have summarized the possible outcomes in four (not-so-well-though-of) equations:

     Equation 1: Strong heart + Good timing = Best results

     Equation 2: Weak heart + Bad timing = Worst results

     Equation 3: Weak heart + Good timing = Pleasant results

     Equation 4: Strong heart + Bad timing = Painful results

Among all the things I believe in, including the ones I have chosen not to mention, this is the one I have the most uncertain feelings for. I look forward to it and I try to escape from it. I love and hate it only because it is what it is. The inevitable.