Confessions of a Drama Queen

I try to ignore it but lately I noticed that I am falling into the trap again. Then, I got to thinking, is this just a habit or an addiction?

I am Julie, and I’m an addict.

I am addicted to watching series on TV. Yes, shows that got you hooked for the next ten years of life. It started with Alias…God, I’ve lost count how many times I’ve watched this show. Yes, ask me trivial things about each episode and I have the answer. I’ve cried with Sydney while the “In the Arms of an Angel” was playing in background, got mad at Vaughn for not waiting for Syd and got interested in Rambaldi. I will watch the episode over and over again and even memorize the lines until I fall asleep.

Then, I fell in love with Michael Scofield and the rest of the Fox River Eight, otherwise known as Prison Break, the series so tragic that it had me scarred for life. I can’t accept the ending that I don’t dare watch the season finale till now.

Then, I watched Grey’s Anatomy, the whole CSI’s, got lost on LOST, became desperate on Desperate Housewives, got insane with Ally Mc Beal and everything that is now showing on Fox Series.

Lately, the circles around my eyes were caused by Sex and the City. Yes, 6 years after the finale, here I am still as excited as ever. I got hooked on the girls and Mr. Big again.

This might be just a cure for boredom but why do i have to watch it over and over again?

I realized that I'm a closet drama queen, it’s my adult version of a fairy tale (only longer and with more drama) where every show must end in happy ever after. It’s my one hour equivalent of a Mills and Boon paperback. All of these shows gave me temporary escape from the chaos of this mad world and a plunge into a pool of emotions. After all, each of us had gone through roller coaster of emotions and are secretly longing for our own happy ending after all.

It was not an addiction. It was entertainment. The only difference between you and me is that I tend to dissect every parts of the show and memorize the lines and research on trivial things.

So, please excuse me as I watch how Carrie and Mr. Big bump into each other dateless on a boat and secretly hope that he leaves his wife for her…

I am ME

As I approached my 30 plus years of existence, allow me share with you the gory details about myself…

I am a first born, that gives me the license to be stubborn all the time. The upside is being the eldest you got to wear certain clothes first before the younger sister but the downside is the expectations were up to the roof.

I was born under the sign of Libra, hence my endless pursuit for balance & harmony. I was never a confrontational person, I always come in peace.

I grew up with the old folks – Lolo and Lola, which is where my fondness for old movies, reading newspapers and listening to / reading political commentaries and watching PBA came from. Not to forget the wisdom that goes with age.

I like listening to music but no genre in particular. Depending on my mood, I can listen to jazz, ballad or classic. I can bang my head on an acoustic rock music but generally, I like music on its natural form, raw and untouched, no remixes, no fixes.

I am not fashion forward. I tend to favor black colors.I know a thing or two about fashion and appreciate fashion particularly the classic designs like Chanel (I sound old). I don’t read fashion magazines though, it makes me feel ugly.

I have a collection of collared honeycomb shirts in all shades of pink but seldom wear them (now, I’m getting weirder). I love shoes…our love affair dates back from my childhood. I love purses, I love petting them in their natural habitat and then leave only with the one that I can actually use.

I have come into terms with my hair now. When I was younger I used to envy those who have long straight hair. Mine goes in all directions when I wear it down. I can’t wear bangs because they tend to curl. Now, I am wearing it down and not bothered at all. I have to forge a deep relationship with my hairbrush though, I only remember it twice a day.

I am a sucker for romantic movies and novels and everything that makes me swoon and blush like I’m sixteen again. I have this tendency to watch the romantic scenes over and over again.

I love eating (it’s obvious). I love pasta and cakes…my comfort food are strawberry cheesecake and ice cream. Just a slice or a scoop and I’m back to my old self. When I was younger I love anything with chocolate but we have to parted ways recently.

I have this love affair with my bed but work and other pursuits always come in between. I snore and drool (not one of my best qualities) because sleep is the only freedom that I know.

The list can go on but for now love me for what I am. I'm like this rainbow in a desolate afternoon. I can color your world if you let me...

I am Julie, I am me.

Please Hear What I am Not Saying

Do not be fooled by me.
Do not be fooled by the face I wear
For I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
Masks that I'm afraid to take off
And none of Plural is me.

Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,
BUT do not be fooled,
for God's sake do not be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me,
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command
and that I need no one,
BUT do not believe me.

My there be smooth surface BUT
my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies Confusion, and Fear, and aloneness.
But I hide this. I do not want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.
That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated Clouds,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.

BUT such a glance is precisely my Salvation,
My only hope, and I know it.
That is, if it is followed by acceptance,
If it is followed by love.
It's the only thing that CAN Liberate me from myself
from my own self-built prison walls
from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me
of what I can not assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.
But I do not tell you this. I do not Dare to. I'm afraid to.

I'm afraid you'll think less of me,
that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep down I'm nothing
and that you will see this and reject me.

So I play my game, my Desperate, pretending game
With a Clouds of assurance without
And a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering BUT empty parade of Masks,
And my life becomes a front.
I tell you everything that's really nothing,
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So When I'm going through my routine
Do not be fooled by what I'm Saying.
Please listen carefully and try not to Hear What I'm Saying,
what I'd like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
BUT what I can not say.

I do not like hiding.
I do not like playing superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing Plural.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me
BUT you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand
When an even that's the last thing I seem to want.
ONLY YOU CAN wipe away from my eyes
the blank stare of the breathing dead.
ONLY YOU CAN call me into aliveness.
Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging,
Each time you try to understand inasmuch you really care,
My heart begins to grow wings -
very small wings,
BUT wings!

With your power to touch me into feeling
YOU CAN breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how can you be a creator - an honest-to-God creator -
of the person that is me
if you Choose to.
You alone CAN break down the wall behind Which I tremble,
you CAN remove my mask alone,
CAN you alone release me from the shadow-world of panic,
from my lonely prison,
if you Choose to.
Please Choose to.

Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.
A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach me
Blinder I have the strike back.
It's irrational, BUT there despite what the books say about man
I am missing book irrational.
I fight against the very thing I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls
BUT with firm hands with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.

Who am I, you have wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.

       By Charles C. Finn