Tuesday, December 26, 2006

I didn't know that grief can cause loss of words. It took a while for us...

Breathe. Speak. Live. Smile. Function. Work. Think. Love. Pray. Hope. Wish. Hurt. Cry. Laugh. Remember. Believe.

It still hurts, but we'll make it through.


Daddy would've wanted it that way.


We will always remember you when we look at the sun... we dearly miss you.

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Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Turn My Head

Walk by me... and call my name.

Don't allow me to ignore you. Rock my boat, stand in front of me and don't leave until I look up from the book I'm reading. Introduce yourself. Comment about the sky, the color of the bench, the humidity, the title of my book, the patterns on my skirt. Talk. Get my attention.

Turn my head.

Or else, I'll miss you completely. And I'll miss out on living a whole life with you in it. I'm trying my best to pay attention to the little signals and the great epiphanies which might lead me to you. But I can't find you. The world is swirling about me, colors clash in my eyes. I might have just lost you to it.

I tried to be the brave little girl searching for you. I went out there and tried to find you in the faces of the people with possibilities. I cannot find you. I might not be very good at this, I guess.

Find me... please. And turn my head.

Sunday, December 17, 2006

Drinking Coffee, Walking Wounded

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We were three girls in a coffee shop discussing a range of topics from falling in love with priests to how to unlearn the fear of love and finally to moving on after a messy cancelled wedding.

Sitting there, the differences amongst us were glaring.

One was self-admittedly stubborn, holding on to a hope that might damage her internally and threaten a vocation badly needed by the Church.

One was fiercely determined to redeem her self-respect after being jilted a few months before their wedding.

One was just plain scared to fall in love again, a process she calls disgustingly inane now, after having given 100% the first time and being fundamentally wrong about her assumptions.

But we were pretty much three sides of a singular pyramid, going through what I can only call the muck that love is.

One would never admit she's stuck in a moot point, her heart utterly lost in the recesses of the deep well of confusion of a struggling-to-be pious priest.

One would never admit she still feels for the former fiance, even if it only were feelings that manifest itselfs in her tears and in her anger, and that it might not be the right time to enter another relationship.

And the one terrified of giving herself a chance to find true love because of her fear of rejection--- she would never admit that she's never felt lonelier, uglier and more unlovable as she does now. Not to mention stupider.

We're the walking wounded. Sh_t happens and we happen.

How many of us exists, I wonder?

Friday, December 15, 2006

What a Disappointment


I've been so psyched the whole week about today's Lantern Parade in UP. I even took a day-off to make it an official gimik day.

Then I found out it's been cancelled due to threats which the administration believed would come from the rallyists against the UP tuition hike.

A lot of my former classmates will kill me if they read this but...

I'm not one of those who believe that everytime there's an issue to be fought you take it out to the streets. Rallies are becoming tired tools for protests. A lot of people don't take it seriously anymore, and even sneer at it. They scoff and say, "Sus, may rally na naman." Is this really what we want the people to think?

You would say that holding rallies is a component of awareness-raising, a venue to lay out points of view not only for the authorities but also the masa.

But whatever awareness raised by such angry actions (i.e. burning of effigies, etc.) and words (pabagsakin! itapon sa kangkungan!) cannot be unbiased. It's also just one form of brainwashing through kindling raging ire --- no matter how justified it may be. And everyone's got cause to be angry these days. Everything can be complained about. It's not so hard to stir discontent and a lot of mobilizers are using that to manipulate the masses.

Is it possible to use rallies sparingly? Mass mobilization is such a powerful tool -- let's use it wisely. A little pressure at the right pressure points (right time for the right issue) can change the face of the world. Compare that to the noise and chaos that modern rallies have evolved to. If we are doing this for progress, why then the need to slur, burn, raze, hate?

No, I did not sell out. I still believe that we need to overhaul our government, we need to teach people to vote for more capable (and not more popular as the case may be) leaders (not politicians), and we need to help the less fortunate by providing them with opportunities to build their capabilities which would increase their ability to choose a better future.

But how can anger bring peace? How can insults increase understanding?

I really am striving to understand.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Marry Me Not

Congratulate me, I think I’ve just had my first marriage proposal.

Of course, I imagined it a bit differently. I would’ve preferred to have been in a yacht, having dinner at the deck with a perfect view of the moonlit sea. That’s how I imagined it if I was lucky to find a well-to-do guy.

There’s a simpler version though and it doesn’t mean it’ll make me less happier. Sagada lang, overlooking a great mountainscape and the guy I love holding my hand. I don’t care much for that bending-on-one-knee type of proposal, it doesn’t make much difference to me. Besides, I’ll have the trouble of deciding pa if I’ll kneel down with him or haul him up or whatever. Just look me eye to eye na lang and mean it. The ring is important though. I know some girls say it’s ok lang for the ring to follow; but for me, a ring being there would’ve shown forethought. There’s nothing bad about spur-of-the-moment proposals, but I’d feel better if I knew the guy really thought about it and is sure of what he’s asking me.

What I never imagined was that the first marriage proposal I will receive would come from an old man who’s a bit touched in the head. I barely know his full name. I met with him in the office reception area because he claimed to be from the media. That being my job now, I went to him and was disappointed to see that he was that guy we want to blacklist from our events. He looks like your normal wizened fellow until you look into his bloodshot eyes and his manic stare. This time, he brought a familiar (a mousy looking big fellow who looks just as loony as he does -- much like Peter Pettigrew from Hary Potter).In the pretext of asking about PBSP’s Foundation Day, he then proceeded to attack PBSP’s credibility and standing in society. After discussing to me the conspiracies that revolve around the Marcos wealth and not to mention his off-tangent dialogue on poverty as Satan’s spawn, he asked me if I was already married. When I responded on the negative, he went on to say he’s a widow and he’s looking for a wife who can stand with him on his crusade against Satan. “Gusto mo yun?”

I had to fight the urge to stand up and leave them. I can only go so far humoring this lolo. That was it, the meeting is ended.

I asked him if he has any more questions about PBSP and did not wait for their response. I said that since it looks like there’s none, they should just wait for my fax inviting them to PBSP’s Foundation Day. Not. They can die waiting. Which won't be long now anyhow.

His parting shot? Because I was panting after climbing up to the third floor where the reception was he asked, “What is it called again? Obesity?”

To which I firmly answered, “Yes sir, I am overweight. Goodbye.”

Sorry, when it comes to my obesity, I have acquired thicker skin and callused heart. No one, absolutely NO ONE, can make me falter by referring to my weight. Took me years to learn to take it in a stride and no lunatic will get the better of me.

To get this when it’s starting to bother me that I’ve never been in a relationship-- it’s evil. :p Fairy godmother, can’t you find someone a bit younger, less crazy? Yes, I’m sure. I understand you can’t get me Prince William, but don’t give me Mahoma’s lecherous uncle naman.

Hope the next proposal’s golden, I'm counting on it.

Monday, December 11, 2006

Sunday, December 10, 2006


This blog has its many uses for me. I get to practice my writing style. I get to discuss geeky things that I find interesting. And unfortunately for those who read it, I also use it as an outlet for the things that threatens to overwhelm me from the inside. This entry will fall under the last category.

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I was on my way home last Thursday when I fell asleep inside the FX. Midway through the trip, I woke up. I was jarred with the inexorable feeling that I have lost something too important. It was utter, complete and debilitating, but I couldn't place what exactly I was missing. I looked inside my bag to check if I still have my wallet or cellphone --- and I did. Superstitious notes sounded inside my head, and I got nervous thinking that something might have happened to my family. Having no cellphone load, the feeling intensified. It would have been the perfect time for an accident to happen. But...

When I got home, my Dad and Mom was okay. I called my sister, she was okay. I didn't have any pending work, so it couldn't be this resurrected fear of messing up in the office. I don't know what I lost.

I still don't know. This morning, our puppy got ran over by a Pajero. She was bloody, mangled and very much dead when we got to her. I was hoping that was it: I just had a premonition of what was gonna happen to the cute poor thing.

No luck though. There's still this hole, this vacancy, inside my heart. Something's gone and I didn't even know what it was.

I cannot even begin to analyze it. Everytime I try, I fall into this deep scary hole and I just need my wits about me to scramble my way out again.

Will I ever know what it was? Will I get it back? I do not think I can bear living my life without knowing.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Moleskine's Here

About ten months ago, somebody asked me if I knew where to get moleskine notebooks. And I went, "Mole-what?"

As it turns out, moleskines are to notebooks as Ford and Audi are to cars. Supreme excellence captured on paper or that's what they claim. It helps that the makers can brag that Van Gogh to Picasso, from Ernest Hemingway to Bruce Chatwin and other well-known artists and writers used it during their time. Now this notebook is available in Manila. Visit www.moleskine.ph and order from there. I have intense lust for one, but UNFORTUNATELY, a small notebook costs P 900 and a large one costs P1,250. I faint. Sigh.

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This sucks. I'm not going to shell out that much money for notebooks. It has got a seductive hold on me though and I believe I won't be able to sleep tonight. Sooner or later, to console my frustrated subliminal hunger, I will probably go to Papermart in Grace Park, Caloocan and find my favorite notebooks made by the Queen Mother's own paper maker. Those only costs P 30 each. Such a far cry.

But chrissakes, it sucks to be poor sometimes.

Sunday, December 03, 2006

A Nightly Prayer

Here goes my favorite night prayer written by St. Augustine of Hippo:

Watch them, dear Lord, those who wake, or watch, or weep tonight, and give Thine angels charge over those who sleep.
Tend Thy sick ones, O Lord Christ.
Rest Thy weary ones.
Bless Thy dying ones.
Soothe Thy suffering ones.
Pity Thine afflicted ones.
Shield Thy joyous ones.
And all, for Thy love's sake. Amen.

Good night. Ssshh, sleep now.

Christmas is so near I can taste it. :P

Saturday, December 02, 2006

The Covenant

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"Harry Potter, kiss my a**!"

How very... verbose. The above phrase was mentioned in the early part of the movie and it seems an apt warning for those who chose to say in thir seat and wasn't scared away by the Led Zeppelin-esque music during the starting credits.

I have got to say that their premise is undoubtedly interesting. Ipswich in Massachussets was thought to be where the whole witchfinding mania started and there was something breathtaking in the whole "Sons of Ipswich" context. Unfortunately, the movie was badly acted, badly directed, and well, badly written.

One good thing about it?

Eye-candy galore, baby!

What the freak are Abercrombie & Fitch underwear models (sporting developed six, nay, 8-packs) doing pretending to be high school students? Oh, I don't care.

Me like. :p

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What are thir names? Darn if I know. Not one of these guys are gonna make it anytime soon because they can't act to save their lives. But well, who needs to act, right? If they can just be hot?


Friday, December 01, 2006

A List Of Odd Stories

The world seems to be full of odd stories the past 2 days. Weird and strange in either amusing or horrifying ways, it seems. Want to see the list I've made?

1. Somewhere in the Phils., a cat gave birth to a puppy (or at least, a kitten that looks like a puppy)
2. Somewhere in the US, a mother killed her baby by putting him in the microwave oven
3. Typhoon Durian (Reming) devastated Bicol; Metro Manila people scratched their heads because Signal No 2 was raised with nary winds nor water felt.
4. Poor dolphins are up for display at SM Mall of Asia.
5. Children in Congo are being driven to the streets by their own family, half of them accused of witchcraft

Can you imagine how many more eccentric things are taking place on the face of the planet as we speak? Interesting world we live in, really. Makes one think one life isn't enough for you to live through its many possibilities.

Post Note:

I am deliriously happy today because I found a secondhand copy of Terry Pratchett's Equal Rites in Booksale. I bought 5 other books and it only cost me P 370 all in all. What a bargain! The book fiend inside me rejoices. :) Here's my reading list for the weekend:

1. Re-reading Equal Rites by Terry Pratchett
2. The Annunciation of Francesca Dunn by Janis Hallowell
3. Storm Front by Jim Butcher
4. Re-reading Sunshine by Robin McKinley

Yeah, I just need a weekend for that. Oh and I'm also making headway in my self-taught Spanish lessons.

As my primer says, I now can:
1. Greet others (Hola! ?Que tal?)
2. Introduce others (?Como se llama la chica? A: Se llama Anna)
3. Say where people are from (? De donde eres? A: Soy de Manila)
4. Express likes (Estoy terrible. Si es Lunes!)

The longest sentence I know now is:
?Cula es tu telefono? and
?Que quiere decir regatear?

Sigh. Got a long, long, long waaay to go.

Strange Horizons

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Humanity's new frontier might as well be in a new corner of the universe.

Stephen Hawking, the author of the popular and challenging book entitled "A Brief History of Time", encourages humanity to explore the possibility of space conquests.

"Sooner or later disasters such as an asteroid collision or a nuclear war could wipe us all out," said Professor Hawking, who was crippled by a muscle disease at the age of 21 and who speaks through a computerized voice synthesizer.

"But once we spread out into space and establish independent colonies, our future should be safe," said Hawking, who was due to receive the world's oldest award for scientific achievement, the Copley medal, from Britain's Royal Society on Thursday.

Previous winners include Albert Einstein and Charles Darwin.

In order to survive, humanity would have to venture off to other hospitable planets orbiting another star, but conventional chemical fuel rockets that took man to the moon on the Apollo mission would take 50,000 years to travel there, he said.

Hawking, a 64-year-old father of three who rarely gives interviews and who wrote the best-selling "A Brief History of Time," suggested propulsion like that used by the fictional starship Enterprise "to boldly go where no man has gone before" could help solve the problem.
"Science fiction has developed the idea of warp drive, which takes you instantly to your destination," said.

"Unfortunately, this would violate the scientific law which says that nothing can travel faster than light."

However, by using "matter/antimatter annihilation," velocities just below the speed of light could be reached, making it possible to reach the next star in about six years.

"It wouldn't seem so long for those on board," he said.- From Yahoo News

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Stephen Hawkings (pic from yahoo news)

Do I hear a clamoring out there? Yea, Trekkies Unite! :)

Thursday, November 30, 2006

Something's Irking Me

I don't know what. But something's wrong in this picture and I can't place it. I'm serious. Something doesn't feel right. Can you help me figure out what it is?

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Why Lie?

Borgy Manotoc guested in yesterday's Forbidden Questions Game during Good Times in 899 Magic. As per usual, celebrity trivia ran like wild paper airplanes all over the place. One of the questions that created a big bang (hehe, pun on the bun) was who were three of the more famous women he'd slept with in the past. He answered:

1) Lana Asanin - I can only catch fleeting memories of this bombshell who was quite popular back in the early 90s. Can't get a lock down on her face though.

2) Victoria London - Another "almost-remember-her" girl.


3) Vina Morales

Now, here's where the controversy starts. In today's Phil. Star, there's an article there that says Vina is denying she ever had any kind of relations with Borgy. She's asking Borgy to clear up her name and she's acting the part of the hurt damsel-in-distress.

I don't get it. Who's lying here? Here are my theories:

1) Borgy might be shtoopid enough to think Vina would never know he said her name. maybe he thought that it won't boing (!) right back to him if he was lying through his teeth.

2) Vina's playing the innocent because she's dating an influential Chinese guy.

3) Vina had a mind altering accident rendering her with selective amnesia.

4) Baka naman, Borgy just meant natulog lang sila sa isang lugar where they both happened to be in at the same time, like maybe in the shores of Boracay last summer, 20 yards apart. Pwede rin.

5) Eto favorite theory ko: baka na-abduct si Vina ng aliens and the one we see on teevee today is just a robot made in her likeness. Ngayon, she can't remember what happened in the life of the real Vina. Small details, like how she used to know how to smile without a predatory smirk, and how one night when she was drunk on tuba, she slept with Borgy. Pwede? Pwede! Look at her and see if she looks human. Diba? Look closer? She looks like a plasticene Barbie!

I don't usually make stuff like these my problem, BUT... I hate it when I'm reminded how a lot of people in showbiz are plastic and like making stories. And I mean that I hate it with the concentrated heat of a thousand suns.

Here, I don't know who's lying. I really shouldn't care. if it's all a misunderstanding (although how they'd make it appear like that, I can't wait to hear), then fine. Go live your twisted, contorted lives.

I'd rather be stuck in Oblivia eating cud than live the high times and high lies of the high life.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Wake Up, Wake Up!

I wonder what's wrong with me. I keep waking up early this week.

Oh yeah, I remember now. I was forced to wake up early two days in a row last week. First, for the site visit in Pampanga, and Second, the Saturday exposure.

The house is still quiet. Yet again. I think everybody's finding it hard to wake up early because it's so cold in the mornings now. Sarap nga naman matulog. Pero ito, ang mga weirdong tulad ko, tsaka naman nagigising ng maaga.

Buti na lang, maaga ang Good Times with Mo. I keep laughing out loud. I'm afraid my Dad'll wake up hearing me laughing to myself. Can't help it. They're so gosh darn it funny. Thank God for small blessings, no matter how irreverent. :)

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Mojo Jojo, Mohan and Andy9 (pic from shale)

Shux, Mojo kinda deserves his own cute boy alert... :)

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Eating Mangoes While Naked

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(fooled a bit with the format, this is not a poem)

I saw a book with the same title sometime ago,
and it's the most apt title I've got to describe
what I'm doing right now.

I am eating mangoes very early in the morning
wearing nothing but a towel.
Technically, I'm not naked.

I just got out from the shower and
nobody in the house is awake yet.
The house has this kind of stillness that's a bit
magical because it seems to be promising
many wonderful things for the next 24 hours.

Somebody saintly
bought fresh ripe mangoes yesterday and
they were as sweet as heaven.
I had a craving for it first thing this morning.
While taking a bath, I knew
I just had to have it immediately ---
ergo, my present state.

I just opened a window and
a shock of green greeted me as
I surveyed the fields surrounding our house.
Now, the mango's skin is so flawlessly yellow.
My towel is so garishly red.
My human skin is pink in places I scrubbed too hard on.
Oh my, I'm going to have a colorful day.

There's this fantasy I have when I'm
eating mangoes.
I know that it's an expensive fruit elsewhere,
let's say Switzerland.
So what I do is, I imagine myself
eating mangoes in Switzerland
where only the really privileged could get a taste.
When I do that, I don't feel so poor.
When I do this, I feel sickeningly happy.

I love ripe mangoes! Yum!

Suffice to say, I also revert to my
six-year-old soul speak when I'm happy.
So there'd be no witty, sarcastic closing today.
All I have is this and you might as well
deal with it:

Oh yum! Life is good!

Monday, November 27, 2006

Pieces of November

How many days til Christmas?

The months just plain swooshed by us, didn't it? It hardly registered that today is the second to the last month of the year. And today is the 27th out of 30 days in that month. Cum Friday, we will hit the good old merry season of December.

I can't afford gifts this year. I've tried to make my budget fit, but I'm simply out of it. I gave most of my bonus for the house. With just me working, most of my income this month would have to be directed to mundane things such as electric bills and telephone bills and heckling freaking lots of kinds of other bills.

It's going to be a challenge to spend Christmas as poor as a mouse, but statistics say people survive. So I probably will too.

I don't know if this is the primary reason why I don't want it to be December yet.

November isn't a bad month, y'know? We celebrate Samhain this month. We celebrate Saints this month. And more than anything else, we spend our lives waiting within this month. I think I'm better at waiting for Christmas to come than celebrating it.

I'm a wicked, wicked child.

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Without Amphetamines

Book in Hand: World Mythology Minipedia
Song in Mind: Return to Innocence


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There's a theory that we are only attracted to things that reflect our current state of mind or emotions. I believe that's how people find their favorite art object, book or song. So when I say my favorite book of all time is still Lois Lowry's The Giver, I wonder what that says? When my favorite artist remains to be Monet, I wonder what that says? And when the tune to Return to Innocence keeps playing in my head the past few days, what does that make me?

Two weks ago, I bought myself an MP3 player and went crazy downloading music. The advent of Limewire has finally reached th far-away shores of my consciousness. I know it's barely legal, but I don't have the resources to buy all the CDs I like. The moment I understood the concept of file sharing, I downloaded my old mantra-esque songs. Ergo, I'm downloading Snow on the Sahara by Anggun as we speak.

The deliciousness of listening to my favourite tunes on demand still hasn't worn off. It provides background music to my day-to-day existence. I'm the type to wallow in my mood and that's the only way I can get through it. Some people will play happy music when they're sad, but that's utter crap to me. I can't pretend to be feeling otherwise. I find more solace in learning that whether blissful or depressed, the world can feel right along with me.

So when I'm happy, I play Dancing in the Moonlight by Switchfoot, or What a Wonderful World by Louis Armstrong. When I need to get myself revved up, I play Get Your Head in the Game from the High School Musical or Let's Get it Started by the Black Eyed Peas. Angry? Some Gwen Stefani or Alanis Morisetter suffices. Angsty ponderous? John Mayer. Sad? The Sundays and Tori Amos to croon along with.

When I'm tired of the mp3, I turn on the fm radio. I usually tune in to Jam 88.3, Home 97.9 or if it's morning, Magic 89.9. Jam usually plays a mixture of old and new songs, especially on Fridays. The thing they call songs of the old? It's actually music I listened to when I was an adolescent and brings back a lot of memories. Home plays songs I can sing along with as well. Magic from 6 - 9 am though plays music I like now. What they'd play is pretty predictable, yes: John Mayer's Dreaming with a Broken Heart, Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol, Collide by Howie Day, and How to Save a Life by The Fray. A lot of guys complain to Mo Twister, but I don't. I love knowing with certainty that I'd be hearing my fave music before I get to work. Sometimes it even surprises me when they play stuff fron not-so-recent hitlists just because they like it. They played Dancing in the Moonlight and Don't Know Why by Norah Jones, I remember. Hehe, they eve played Laklak once and the E-heads! I assume as much that Mohan was reared within the same niche of the same generation as I did with the same bent or tendencies.

Have half the mind to recommend Conner Reeves' Ordinary People and Earthbound since it follows the same bent.

Now I'm listening to Seasons of Love from the musical Rent. It's not so bad to have a soundtrack for life. It makes the going a bit more flavorful. Only thing that's frightening me is I think I'm going deaf since I have a tendency to play my music loud. I like it when it reverberates in my ears because nowadays, I think my soul is stone deaf as well. Just waking it up a little, putting a little fire in there, a little groove. Maybe even a little more heart.

"525,600 minutes, how do you measure , measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee, in inches, in miles,
in laughter, in strife?"

Another Term Down

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Hay. Yesterday, I just wrapped up another term teaching CWTS. I've been doing this for two years now. DLSU's not so bad, you know? We kept harping on about La Sallians in college, making them the butt of school-related jokes. Snarky friends will say I sold out, but they haven't been teaching there for seven terms, have they?

It's true that the intellectual capacity of the students are more varied, God knows it frustrated me a couple of times, but you find means and you move the kid along the right path, y'know? On the surface, La Sallians like playing it cool. Since DLSU practices block sectioning, the kids tend to be clique-ish. A good example would be my class this term with the boys' mafia-esque barkadahan. Or the Silent Girls' Club. Or the We're So Pretty and We Don't Give A Damn Club Society. It's a good study on how students thrive in too much opulent air.

My good-natured snarkiness though received illumination yesterday. Two of my students were super late for the site visit to Valenzuela City. We've been waiting in the meeting place for more than an hour already. When their classmates called them on the cellphone, they said they were still in 7-11 buying drinks. That's still 5 minutes away. I told them to come to the parking lot pronto. After 6 minutes, they still weren't around and I called up again asking where they were. The guy answered, "Nandito na po, miss. Nasa moldex parking lot na po." This after telling the class repeatedly that the meeting place is in the Harrison Plaza parking lot.

I blew my top talaga. I was practically yelling when I said, "ALL your classmates managed to remember we're supposed to be meeting in HP at 7:30 a.m. It's 8:10 a.m.! Know what? Don't bother coming here, we're leaving!"

I gave the go-signal to the jeepney drivers and left. Not five minutes later, a student handed her cellphone to me and surprise! It was the two kids left behind. Or rather, the taxi driver flagged down by the kids asking for directions pala.

"Abladi abladi abladi, Pedro Gil! Ablada ablada ablada Padre Faura!" shouted the driver (while driving my students ito ha! My God, heart attack!)

"Ano?! Ano sinasabi iyo? Ibalik niyo sa bata yung cellphone!" I shouted. Then once handed the phone, the boy pleaded for us to wait for them. They said they were in Pedro Gil along Taft already and they'd follow us in the cab. Atake talaga sa puso! Sa Valenzuela pa kaya kami pupunta, dadaan ng Expressway yun!

Even if I wanted to teach them a lesson (by effectively failing them because the trip was half of their attendance grade), I'm deathly scared they'd get into an accident. Good night naman, ganun pala ang feeling ng pagiging responsable sa ibang tao. I had 37 kids to mind and kasama sila dun. So I relented and waited for them sa may Lawton. Muntik pa kami mahuli ng pulis dahil 3 jeep yung naghihintay para sa kanila. Kailangan kasi sabay sabay talaga kami. Galit na galit talaga ako na walang magawa. At nung dumating pa sila, hindi pa tamang kulay ng shirt nung girl. Ay, parang gusto ko ulit sila iwan!

When they got into the jeepney and we moved along, I cooled down a bit. I told myself there must be a logical reason for their tardiness. I have a lot of students who doesn't really give a damn about the subject because it's not academic, but they still won't graduate without it. This girl happened to be absent the first time we went to the site and her failing to come that day would have meant total failure, no question. She couldn't be that daft, I said.

A visibly calmer Olivia faced the kids. Well, the guy was really inattentive in class because he insisted to the girl that Moldex was our meeting place, and the girl believed him. They were late because the girl had family troubles, she didn't sleep at their house because of a flare-up with her Mom, I think. She's not wearing regulation t-shirt because her friend only lent her something and that was all they could find. She was also crying.

Eh, iyakin din ako. Gusto ko na rin umiyak habang ine-explain sa kanila why I had to do what I did. But again, being the responsible adult, IT MUST NOT BE! Argh, hirap talaga maging matanda! Naawa ako sa kanya, ayokong maniwala pero her tears and distress felt genuine. I cannot take the risk of being too hard on the girl. I don't have the heart. I let them go with the lamest of warnings. Bahala na kung nagoyo nila ako. I'd rather trust them than spend the whole day feeling like a monster.

Later that day though, I saw the girl wince when somebody tapped her on her shoulder. May pasa ata siya. I immediately cancelled all my doubts. Geez, sombody freakin' hurt that girl! She's my student! Parang gusto kong manugod ng magulang. And I realized that, heck, if she was hurt like that, distressed like that and she still came to this trip, then I was dead wrong. She cared for her future. Sige, her grades na if not CWTS. But she came.

Consider me reformed. I will never snark on a La Sallian again. Kahit mild, kahit good-natured. Students are students saan man sila nag-aaral. Their standards of excellence may not be the same, but they go through the whole formative years too. They have real problems, more horrific than what I went through when I was in college even. They are also just dealing with life the way they know how. The best I can do is to make the passage worthwhile for them. Kahit hindi na nila ma-realize agad.


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"There are very few human beings who receive the truth, complete and staggering, by instant illumination. Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment... - Anais Nin"

"I do not know all the answers, I do not even know all the questions... - Theodore Reik"

"BETADINE Feminine Wash Indication No. 3: As an external genital wash for protection before and after sexual intercourse... -Pascual Laboratories"


That's what I thought when I read above indication while taking a bath last night. Yes, I read things even when I'm inside the shower. Kahit man lang text ng shampoo bottles. Or in this case, ng Feminine Wash.

When I read that one of the primary uses of Betadine is to protect women before and after intercourse, my mind drew a complete blank. Protect from what? Surely not pregnancy? What then, dermatological problems? As in pubic dandruff? AIDS?

Wait, wait... so people need to wash after? Oh, and they wash before? How come I don't see that in the movies?

All this precious thoughts swirled inside my head while I was standing in the shower, holding a miniscule bottle, reading the fine print. That's when I had to admit defeat and accept I know nothing about sex. Oh, I've read about the technical stuff. I've even come across through the kinky stuff. But the nuances are alien to me.

In the movies and books, people just seem to rip off their pants within 5 nanoseconds and they get on with it. I've always wondered. These people --- must not have love handles. It takes me 5 minutes to completely take off my jeans. First I had to suck in my tummy, so I can unbutton the waist and then wriggle and jump about to lower it one pant leg at a time. And that's me when there's an urgent need to poo.

Same goes for blouses and shirts. I have to wriggle, bend, reach and do gymnastics first before I could take off my top. In the books and movies, it's like, Whoosh! There goes the shirt! Plink, Swish! There goes the bra! Plop, plop, plop! There goes all the buttons rolling on the floor. Who's gonna freakin' sew those things back on?

And don't they just dive to bed? Or slam their backs or butts on whatever flat surface is available? I've never seen it anywhere yet where the girl said,"Oh, wait, i have to wash with Betadine first. Y'kow, for protection."


"Tapos na tayo? Hugas lang ako with Betadine, ha?"

And speaking of protection, when do girls put in thir vaginal condoms? Because I attended family planning sessions and anti-HIV awareness campaigns, I know when it is for guys, ironically. Although it doesn't seem typical for them to stop and put on rubber once they're geared, aherm, up. I can imagine curses abounding if they can't locate where the freakin' rubber is. For the girls though, how does it go? I was probably absent when they taught that.

There's a lot of weird things I don't know. It's weird to know the theories, concepts and beliefs about sizes, tightness, movement, positions, etc through media, but those things are standard issue. Practitioner or not, most would have knowledge somehow. It's the understanding of why and the small how-to-get-there things that continue to elude me.

I really am clueless about a lot of words, or implied messages, especially if it's green. Ask anyone in the office, and they'd readily offer the fact that I'm naive. I had to go through a traumatic and embarassing experience first before I learned what the counterpart of the word sperm is in tagalog. I don't get why it's such a bad word in the translated version though. It's a biological definition, right? What's so funny about the word sperm? Even whales have that.

But it'll be hypocritical to pretend I don't know at least some things. I'm not advocating for IBM (intercourse before marriage), I'm really not. But I don't want to be a spacehead either. I can at least know a few definitions so as to be rendered as a human being living at least within the same ectosphere.

Would that really be such a cursed thing?

Thursday, November 23, 2006


I watch my mother sometimes, and she doesn't know that I do.

My mother hobbles gently when she walks, having lost confidence in the solidity of ground. Her left eye is blinded and she cannot distinguish depth anymore. She describes it as seeing the world as a flat dimension where shapes have lost their definition. So when she walks, she sends her feet as sentinels to feel out her next step. She wears dark eyeglasss to hide her whited-out left iris, and that adds to her difficulty in seeing with her remaining good eye.

My mother, she hunches when seated. The effort of drawing her body straight is too exhausting for her. During vain moments, she would tuck in her stomach and sqaure her shoulders up. But that doesn't last for very long. Her bravado diminishes as aches attack her abdomen. The pain shoots and licks at her body, whipping her back to her soft, hunched figure and if available, both elbows resting heavily on the table top.

My mother, she's missing one breast. After having faced cancer courageously, her loss of appendage has scarred her for what remains of her life. When she lost it, she smiled and called herself funny-looking. I think I was more desolate about losing the breast that fed me than she was. She remains conscious though that people might figure out that she's got stuffing on her right brassiere and we tell her to stop being vain. But we shouldn't do that. We haven't lost a part of ourselves. We'd never know how it feels to face the world missing part of our armour.

My mother, she winces when you touch her bloated feet. You should always be careful when passing near her else you might step on her toe and this brings her inexorable pain. My mother, she finds it difficult to raise herself up after sitting too long or when she's lying down.

My mother, is a long list of soliloquys of what could go wrong with a woman's senescent body.

My mother, she does all the washing these days. She's returned to her housewifely duties after retiring from 45 years of molding young minds. Her eyes mist over when she talks about her students who are changing the face of the country now and we cluck at her for being sentimental. But we shouldn't. Memories are all she has of her glorious teaching days and we should not mar it with our petty remarks.

My mother is in her room right now, puttering amongst her small things, delicate lady accessories. She finds endless amusement in dismantling her drawers and sorting and re-sorting her things. She does this every week. These objects she barely uses are arranged adoringly into boxes, stuff that are heaped with sentiment rather than value. Oftentimes, she'll finger a necklace or an earring and call me in. She'll tell me, "Daughter, come try this on. I want to give it to you." And I try it on, pretend I like it for her sake and say thank you. I kiss her cheek and she beams at me.

She feels useless now without work. How can I tell her, really speak to her, say to her that no other jewel on the face of the planet can replace her? Glow brighter than she does, shine brighter than the sun?

This is my mother. She is all that is soft in the world for me. She is all that is brave. She is all that is silly and vain. She is all that is cruel and sharp in angry words. She is the silent murmuring that comforts me when I am ill. There's no other woman in the world who looks more beautiful than she is.

I watch her fade away and my heart breaks. For the woman that she was. For the old, tired mother that she is. For her dreams of raising two girls into women of character. Women who'd change the world as she once hoped she will.

I hope in earnest I never disappoint her. Never make her feel she failed. If only I can be that kind of daughter, maybe I too can become the kind of mother that she's proven herself to be.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006


What irks me the most are people who give themselves too much importance.

Today, I met a really annoying guy. He comes into the office announcing himself to be Mark Ignacio and that he's got a meeting with my supervisor. I guess his entrance and manner of speaking can still be attributed to a lesser irritating factor --- stupidity, which I could still have withstood.

I was asked to sit in the meeting since this guy's from the media. He's from RJTV --- the echoes of which barely reverberates in anybody's mind. All I can remember is a kooky old-looking fella talking about music and his love affair with various guitars. He then introduces himself as the owner of a production suit named Epitome Productions (again, silent echoes in the room announces that it does not register to anyone at all) and he flashes out his cheap calling card (too many pink fonts there for a normal person's taste).

He goes on to say that they are conceptualizing a program they plan to call Pinoy Galing Mo -- Angat Ka (PGMA - K for short). He said it's there to support the President's objective to give 10 Million jobs to Filipinos by 2010. He goes on to add that it's not political at all.

Kung t*nga ka, kami hindi noh.

What's more is that, he doesn't effing know what he wants. He comes here without prior research, presents a pro forma program description and asks what PBSP can do for them. He even ended the meeting this way:

"Sige, ganito na lang partner (taps my supervisor on the shoulder), e-mail me what you can do for us, and I'll e-mail you what I need..."

T*NGA!!!! Bakit parang puro kami lang? Ikaw? Sino ka ba?

At eto pa... ang show daw nila ay may target audience na A, B, C. Pag nagpupunta daw siya sa mga mall na pang-lower classes, hindi siya kilala. Pag nagpupunta daw siya ng Podium, nakikilala siya. Nino? Ng mga security guard?

I was about to give him the benefit of the doubt. I was going to lower my disgust over his unschooled English, preference to start his sentences with "Ang gusto ko..." and "Ang kailangan ko..." and his over-all maangas attitude. But then, he let out that one laugh of a paragraph and I know it's not me just being elitist.

T*ng-In*, hindi kita kilala! Sino ka? I don't watch those effing telenovelas you expressed disgust over, nor do I frequent those low class malls you mentioned (bakit ka nga pala nandun?) but I don't know you. Last time I checked hindi ako bobo. SO baka ikaw, mayabang ka lang talaga.

God forbid I have to deal with him again. If he contacts PBSP, I hope he contacts Felix. If he could really help, then fine. But I have a feeling he's one of those lost egomaniacs trying to hide beneath a veneer of social responsibility. I hope Ms. Patty shoots his proposal down. I don't care if it's not going to be credited to my performance appraisal.

Just. Keep. Him. Away.

What I Want for Christmas

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Sunday, November 19, 2006

A Secret Regret

When I was eleven, I hated the fact that I was a girl.

Oh, I've had my crushes even then. But I quite detested that I could never run as fast or climb a tree or be allowed to buy "suka" from the corner store without an escort. I wasn't allowed to stay out in the backyard after 6 p.m., and I was given silly little dolls to play with. No wonder I resorted to books --- you could only change Barbie's dresses so many times until you want to puke at the very thought of handling another taffeta-infested mini skirt. I hated the color pink. I went through a phase that I adored wearing baseball caps. I wanted to change my name to Elizabeth --- So I can call myself Liz. I thought the name Olivia was too girly-girly. And Liv sounds positively and undesirably feminine.

I preen whenever I'm scolded by my Mommy for being tomboyish. It was positive praise, at least in my dictionary. It means I'm not one of those giggling, lace-laden, floral-headbands-stricken girls who are just beyond hopeless.

Now, I think pink clothes bring out the blush in my cheeks. Lace is not to be abhorred but to be used wisely. Sometimes, I even put on make-up when I'm in a good mood. I sign my letters as Liv or Livia.

Yeah, I'm not that eleven-year-old hellcat anymore, but I still have one regret about my being a girl / woman.

There are no woman-priests in the Catholic Church.


There are nuns and there are nuns. They visit the sick, give succor to the suffering, live out the good deeds of Christians --- just as priests do. But they do not --- CANNOT --- celebrate Holy Mass. They do not get assigned to parishes --- so far out in the countryside that the only way to communicate to your loved ones would be by whispering to the wind and praying a trace will touch your intended.

I want to write homilies and stand at the pulpit. I want to make people think, cry, laugh, and believe in the word of God. I want to inspire hope in people. I want to administer communion. I want to be Pope.

Unfortunately, even the beloved late Pope John Paul II was against ordaining women in the priesthood. Maybe it could never really happen in my lifetime. Thinking about this red hot desire to do God service THIS WAY makes me want to cry.

Why can't I? Why does it have to be men only? I understand tradition should be honored --- but I would really give my all if given the chance.

My mother keeps reminding me she has promised the Blessed Virgin that her first born child was going to be either a priest or a nun. I would not have felt bad about this if I were a boy. But unfortunately, what I have is a concave, not a convex apparatus. And to rebel, I pushed away the thought of becoming a nun. Not only pushed, I suppose. Even trampled upon that dream and tried to run away from it as far as I can manage.

But I cannot claim I know my future. If I was promised and accepted, if destiny had laid out a path for me, if I find that someday I'm changing my mind --- I might actually turn out to be the Sister Mary Olive my kindergarten teacher kept calling me back then. My convent education in an all-girls school might come in handy.

But now, my stomach churns at the idea. A priest --- that's what I could never dare to wish to be --- seeing that I'm a woman and a whole tradition of Popes and a whole Bible of fire and brimstone awaits me if I make a wrong move. But the wish cannot be erased nor eliminated.

I know God must have never intended me to be a priest or else I'd be male. He must want me to serve some other purpose. What it is remains to be obstinately unclear though. So... I just make do by serving Him in other ways. Girly ways. Sissy ways. The way I know how. The only way for me.

Friday, November 17, 2006

Done and Over

Thank effing jupiter!

The Festival of Trees is concluded. Last night wasn't so bad... actually, I'd go to say it went okay. We didn't sell the items at high prices in the silent auction but-- people seemed to have enjoyed themselves.

Half the people there I knew because I have read about them in the magazines. Tessa Prieto-Valdes was so pretty! Yeah, she still dresses up kind of wacky but she carries it well. Then there were a lot of good-looking guys with smiles that blinds the stars themselves... but heck if I'd ever get close to them.

Yung crush kong artist is so doubtfully gay in my eyes now kaya I transferred my affections to somebody else --- another artist who looks like a giant studded with piercings. Also, Sam Concepcion performed, along with Agot Isidro and Pilita Corrales. So that was additional pa-wow effect. Not bad, I guess.

Hay. I'm just happy it's over. And happy I can go home soon now. Just a couple of hours more. :)

Saturday, November 11, 2006


No, I will never be completely free from depression. This I understand now. It comes and it goes and it never lets go. I haven't got it as bad as I did before... not yet. It's like a whole new cycle re-starting. I think it's time for me to reconsider finding a therapist.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

History of Gayness

Book in Hand: Breath in Suspension
Song in Mind: Complicated - Avril Lavigne

And I'm not talking about happiness, alright? I don't know why I keep falling for all the wrong guys --- in the sense that they usually turn out to be gay. I do understand that I like clean looking, neat shaven, pleasant looking men. But effing s... my gaydar is darn broken.

You think I'm exaggerating, huh? Can you handle a secret? Here's some of the people I actually had a crush on growing up and most of them turned out to be as gay as a Christmas Parade.

Neil Patrick Harris (as Doogie Howser, M.D.)

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Yeah, he's not much of a looker nowadays. But back when I was eight years old, he was an effing genius. Or at least, he plays one. Just recently he came out and gosh, darn, what took him so long to own up? But was I surprised? Heck yeah!

Keempee de Leon (god, why am I admitting this?)

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I was probably around nine when I had this fixation on Keempee de Leon. Back then he was still a singer, and in my defense, he was really cute back then okay? Then drug abuse happened and now he's this washed out half-gay, half-alien person on teevee. Some claims he's not really, really gay but heck if I can still have a crush on him when I know he thinks its fun to pose like that.

Stephen Gately

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Ah, half of OLGA knew I was in love with Steve and I'd marry him any goddamn day. Tsk, tsk. I still wonder how I made it through my adolescence with just a couple of scar tissues to show for it. How could I ever have not known??????
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The Best Friend

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Nuff said. (This by the way is all smoothened out now...:)

The Watercolor Guy

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So he's dignified looking, see (he's gotta be coz he's like 38), and he always smells good and he always look nice and he's a UP prof, and he's one heck of a water color artist (quite well known, actually). Kaya lang... he looks mataray... and as Petit said it, "Ganyan talaga ang effect niya, pero later on sasabihin mo na lang: Ay! Parang may mali..."

Nate Berkus

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He's Oprah's decorator guy and I almost end up hyperventilating eveytime he comes out on teevee. It doesn't matter if he's talking about paint and screwdrivers. When I learned he's out though, I went postal. C'mon, leave some good-looking guys for us girls naman!

Guys who might as well be gay because I have had a crush on them at least once in this lifetime:

Jonathan Taylor Thomas

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He was this cute, pesky looking kid who starred in Home Improvement and a couple of feel-good movies. When I was in 6th grade, I thought he was the epitome of a man. :)

Ricky Martin (when he was still in Menudo)

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I know they say he's not gay, but c'mon, Ricky Martin is like the poster boy for the true metrosexual. He is, at the very least, bi.

Now, nobody get me wrong, okay? I'm not homophobic. Half of the cool people I know are gay and I'm even good friends with a handful. I'm just whining how I always pine for guys who pine for guys. It kinda sucks, y'know. All I'm saying is, when it comes to finding the right man....

I ought to buy myself a functioning gaydar.

Better yet, I should buy two.

Monday, November 06, 2006

They Exist

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The Believers of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monsters.

Oh yes. Click on the name to see what they say they believe in. :)

Details of Life

So far, here are the little things which helped me feel a bit better today --- even if it is Monday:

1. I'm wearing a new blouse which feels really comfortable.
2. I'm also wearing my new shoes.
3. Mojo Jojo of Good Times with Mo read my text message on air today --- although I forgot to include my name (oooops-doh!)
4. Mo said thanks. (But he didn't know my name. triple doh!)
5. An officemate is absent so I get to use her computer and do actual work.
6. I'm having fun doing the Auction Booklet describing the things for auction in the Festival of Trees.
7. I ate Jollibee burger steak for lunch --- yum yum!
8. AND --- there's a new Liam the Yahoo guy animation and I gigled with glee. Check it out:
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Whattalife. You gotta love the small things to distract yourself from all the bad things looming ahead. Sigh.

Saturday, November 04, 2006

Teeny Tiny Tidbits

Geez, there were a lot of things I wanted to blog about but I rarely had time to type it in. Tonight, let me fill it in though. Maybe I could start with this:


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I don't care much for watching television nowadays. Gone were the days when I had to be home from school before 5 p.m. so I could watch the cartoons and all the sop that follow afterwards. I'm one of those kids whose past is characterized by the fact that I've been an avid follower of Manok ni San Pedro, Buddy en Sol, and Young Love, Sweet Love. Now, that's scary teevee for you.

Recently though, I've been in a hurry to gt home by 9:00 p.m. on Fridays. There's this show on Studio 23 --- it's called Ghost Whisperer, and I love it! It stars Jennifer Love Hewitt (hmmmm, not my favorite actress but she'll do) and surprisingly, it isn't that full of drivel at all. The stories are always engaging, and doesn't reduce itself to cheap tricks for scary effects. There were times that the show also managed to surprise the bejeezus out of me, implausible as I thought that was. That's saying a lot for a popculture modicum.

Just a couple of hours ago, I also caught the premiere episode of the tv series called "Supernatural." Watched it only because I know Jared Padeleki from Gilmore Girls and Jensen Eckels appeals to me as well. NOT as good as Ghost Whisperer definitely. It's like GW was translated into guy language. It didn't suck, but I cannot promise complete devotion to it. Just thought I'd let you guys know.

Ghost Whisperer is on every Friday 9:30 p.m. at Studio 23. Supernatural is aired every Saturday 9:30 pm same channel.


Mondays aren't as hateful as they used to be. The cost of liking this manic day though is an addiction worse than heroin. Mondays to Thursdays, 6 a.m. to 9 a.m. ---- I absolutely have to be tuned in to magic 89.9 to listen to Good Times with Mo.
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Everyone can use sarcastic humor in the morning, I've learned. At 6, my alarm goes off and my hand flips the radio on. I lie in bed for the next 30 minutes listening to Mo, Mojo Jojo and Andi do their opening salvo. When it's time for me to get up, I switch to the radio on my cp, which I bring to the god darn bathroom. I listen while I brush my teeth, do my morning business and take a bath. When I get to my room to change into work clothes, I turn back on the large radio.

By 7 a.m., I am dressed for work, and I go downstairs, present a decent face to my parents, say goodbye, walk to the bus stop, ride a bus. Once seated, I turn on my cp radio and lose myself in the show. By 8:45, I'll find myself in Intramuros. I go to the office, log in, space out. By the time 9 a.m. rolls in, the radio show ends, I snap out of it and find myself seated at my desk. Hah. It has got to be the most painless way to go to work.

I've found the secret and I'm never turning back. :)


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I'm kind of disappointed to learn Ryan Philippe and Reese Witherspoon has called it quits. Dissapointed, but not surprised. I've been seeing a lot of pics of the couple where RyanPhilippie just can't seem to connect. He's got that wild-eyed look of a trapped animal. Don't get me wrong, I don't think Reese has got ugly claws keeping him immobile. It's just that... I don't feel the loving in their body language anymore. Oh well.

The Bergdorf Blondes have split up, and a lot of snarky people are having a field day. (including me) :)


I've recently switched my yahoo mail to the beta version, and quite frankly, I'm amused. Amused by this little icon here bouncing on a ball. When I went ahead to save the pic, I found out this dude's name is liam. Now, I call him Liam with the Big Ball. :)

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Adorable, ain't he?

I wonder though, doesn't that hurt?

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

X-Men Room

Driving through Caloocan City traffic yesterday, I saw this hilarious advert for a local motel:

Try the New X-Men Room...
Unleash the Power Within!

This goes with a picture of a bed with a circular metallic headboard inscribed with a huge X.
No wonder their logo is shown shushing people up. They're probably rolling on the floor and laughing and screaming their lungs out. Ooooh, I can just see manong driver bringing in his wife, or the cheapskate executive with his bombshell secretary... vrooom, vrooom. Unleash the power within!

Gawds sake.

Sunday, October 29, 2006

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way...
Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

I was just reminded by a friend that this quote exists. That sometime in the past, a man was inspired enough to dwell on the irony of life, its inconsistencies, its challenges, and thus, its beauty. How apt it is for who we are and where we are right now.

My friends and I are stuck in this age where we feel like we're being pulled in two directions --- the call of our childhood with its comfortable memories and an unknown future which could be bright, tragic or both. It's easy to feel everything, easier to feel nothing, hoping to know everything, hoping to know nothing upon realizing that sometimes ignorance is bliss...

Yet we are surrounded by Life and all its colors and we are called to participate, both compelled and attracted to the vibrancy that it promises to deliver.

So we are both living and dying slowly, gaining and losing something daily, loving and hating in equal measure, hurting and healing and hurting again, learning and unlearning, choosing and deciding and then changing our minds... Whew.

And in all the jingling and jangling, the whirling and spiraling -- we taste, we feel, we hear, we speak, we burn ever brighter and dance and sing to the maddening feverish salsa of life.

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Ready, Set.... Write!

NanoWriMo's just a couple of days away and I still don't have a freakin' idea what to write about this year. Which reminds me of something --- a lot of my friends keep asking me why I gave up writing love stories.

I don't really have a concrete answer for that. I think I may have found it sappy somewhere along the way. Once, I also thought that I do not have the needed gravitas to pull of a real good romantic story. What do I know about it, right? Another popular theory is that I haven't just given up on love stories, I gave up on love altogether. :)

Dunno. Could be. Could be not. I have my doubts now, marred as my, aherm, innocence is. (or is that naivete?) But how much have I truly lost? If I just can convince myself I have gained far much more maybe I really haven't lost anything at all. Argh. What the effing heck. Di ko ma-take ang drama. Sorry, I just have stopped liking it. That's it. That's the end all and be all of it.

So, I should really get along with that We Who have Fallen Asleep anthology. At least, that has a potential of not being overly sappy.

NanoWriMo, here I come.

For Amusement's Sake

Book in Hand: Unlocking the Air by Ursula le Guin
Song in Mind: Chasing Cars


Just so I can say I still keep my friendster updated, I loaded a couple of pics and answered a few messages. It sucks though how my last testimonial was written, like, in 2004 pa. Aherm, aherm, pakisulatan naman o, nakakaawa na kasi ako. :)

Anyway, I just heard that Friendster refused Google's offer to buy the outfit for 30 million dollars back in 2003. I understand that maybe he didn't want to give in to the "Man." Oh, but man.... what mucho dinero you've passed up. You could've doubled your worth. Shux, I hope you don't regret this, Abrams. But if the business commentaries in the NY Times are any good, you already do.


Bakit ba inaaway nyo si Mo? Pakialam nyo ba kung sa may sarili siyang opinyon eh. Sure, I admit, he's fresh, caustic, tactless, impatient with dumb people, and well, basically rude. But tell me he's wrong; tell me that people still respect Lolit Solis after her involvement with that awarding scam years and years ago? Tell it straight to my face and I'd know you're kissing her ass because you probably hope to be discovered by her and become an artista. Gamitan naman sa showbiz diba? That's the only reason why Solis survived, because people can still use her to become famous.

Also, I'm sure hindi lahat ng showbiz talk show hosts are bobo. I mean, Boy Abunda, surely, has a good head on his shoulders although he had to hide it well so as not to overwhelm Cristy Fermin and touch-my-tummy-it's-lucky-deal or-no-deal Kris Aquino. But showbiz talkies have a way of encouraging mindless gossiping amongst the masses, and giving focus to the things that are not important. Networks claim that it's merely for amusement's sake, but man! That kind of amusement dissolves useful brain cells, leaving none for actual day-to-day functioning. No wonder so many people are becoming pains in the arse.

Now, Mo does not come across as a nice guy. But getting back at him by calling the radio station he works for as not so popular, or saying he's trying to hog the limelight after whatever failed relationships --- that is so freakin' weak, man. It's so juvenile.

If I could tell Mo one thing though (which I'm sure I'd never be able to do since I'm his complete anti-thesis), I'd start by telling him he's a role model to a lot of young kids and he'd be well-served if he tones down a bit. But heck, I'll just get flack, I'm sure and in the end, he'd still do what he does best --- amuse us all with his acerbic wit.


Good jupiter in pluto, it's 1:00 a.m.! Somebody hit my head with a club so I could sleep! Got work to do tomorrow and I'm sure it'll not be amusing at all. Tell me how 12 geriatric women engaged in a verbal merry-go-round inside a cramped room could ever be fun and I'd treat you to lunch for a month. No bluff.

Sunday, October 22, 2006

Automatic Random Musings (ARM)

The brain, if taken out of context from the person, is a thing. Not living without a heart. So in effect, it's a machine. Once plugged into a life source, it makes everything operate and sometimes can be mistaken as a life source itself. But it isn't.

Sometimes, this tiny but amazing machine backfires. Yes, there are mental illnesses. But to a lesser degree, there is this uncontrolled random musings better known as Memory and Thinking. No, nothing has to be logical. Things just pops up once in a while and if you are armed with a word processor you have every means to type it down.


I am frustrated at my new job. I had the idea that it was this wonderful change of pacing and a step nearer to my dream of being a writer. So far, my output had been a couple of media advisories and meeting with gnarly old ladies about an event that propagates the tradition of cutting down trees for decorations.

I keep saying myself, to write I must need tools. I don't even have my own computer there. I just squat on my other workmate's computers. Thing is, I can't give my all when I'm on my toes trying to see if they'd be needing their computers already. I can't write without a computer. I have lost the patience to jot on paper. It's frustrating.

Now, I haven't done anything significant yet. Given that I am barely a month old in the position, okay, I shouldn't expect much. But I don't feel productive. The only way I can feel useful is if I churn out the articles sometime soon. But without a computer, how am I supposed to do this? Work at home? That'll screw up my attendance. Steal a laptop? Use computers in LRO, when they are also experiencing a shortage (and I admit, hirap kaya umakyat-panaog)?

I know I must deal and force myself to write on paper. But I am critically disadvantaged everytime I try. I think too fast and I write too slow. My hands hurt easily.

I am screwed.


The other night, my guy best friend texted me asking if I was awake. I wasn't. I read his text the next day and I felt guilty. He rarely texts that late. Our history shows, I'm more likely to do that. When I txt him, he responds; now that he txted me, I was snoring in lala-land. Call it intuition, but I knew he didn't contact me to ask my favorite ice cream flavor.

It turned out he was angry and frustrated about something. I think it's guy-troubles, because he ended his text with: Love is hard.

Well, what do you know. Welcome to the planet, darling.

I'm a bit unsure how to help him. Half a decade ago, he was the one who taught me love was hard --- when I was still holding a candle for him. Now that the tinderbox has been annihilated, I'm free. But then, I don't know if I can start giving him advice on boys since I obviously have no talent for getting one. Or distinguishing one, for that matter. Not even if I scry for them, I think.

Or more importantly, I have no understanding of love since it also still eludes me. Speaking of which, I am...


I'm tired of waiting. But I can't stop hoping. I'm tired of being alone (aka John Mayer), but I'd rather not do anything about it. When it comes to finding love, I'd really rather let it find me. The times when I tried to forge my way to and through a relationship, results had been disastrous. Or tepid. Sometimes both.

Last week, a friend asked me why I'm so scared to let a boy know I like him. My only answer was, Because.

In my head though, I completed the sentence. Because he'd run away screaming bloody murder, that's why. Because he'd have to be insane to like me back. Because he'd be disgusted. Or worse, he'd be patronizing and start pitying me all the way from here to the moon.

I've got a lot of baggage for someone who'd never been in a relationship ever. I'm sure people left and right would be telling me to lose the baggage then. Yes, sure, just chuck it out after years and years of being molded by it. Easy peasy right?

Not in this lifetime. Maybe lessen it, but to completely abandon it is implausible. I'm just being honest. (And stubborn as well)

I suppose all I ask for is (as they say it in that NY musical) someone whose baggage goes with mine. Doesn't have to be Louis freakin Vuittons. Me, I've always been the Gap kinda luggage. A matching set isn't really too much to ask, is it?

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Luck Ducky

I am a lucky, lucky girl.

The Press Conference for the Festival of Trees was held today and no major mishaps occured. To think it was my very first (!) event in my new job, it actually went pretty okay. Of course there were things we forgot: like pipe-in music while the guests are milling around, to double and triple check the menu to make sure there would be at least softdrinks available to guests(!!), and stuff similar to these. But all in all, it wasn't bad.

I say I'm lucky because I had extreme help from all corners of our little universe. Press invites were handled by a PR firm who worked with us for free and 24 media people came (!!!). It seems this is something good becuase we usually get around 2 or 3 in our other events. The Makati Garden Club ladies did a lot of fiddling and fixing so there was real shared responsibility between them and the foundation. I don't know how it would've went if it was just left up to me. I woud've gone insane.

Hope the FOT kicks off. Heck, if we're gonna be selling plates for P 10,000 per set, this better kick off. If not, I should consider my arse kicked out instead. :)

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Tantric, Manic, Panic

Floundering about what to talk about today. I just couldn’t allow another day to pass by without my fingers doing a bit of typing. Writers write, don’t they say? And one must write everyday to get the juices flowing.

What they don’t say is how there are days that you just couldn’t manage to dot an i. Not that I don’t feel inspired. I may have a couple of good ideas in my head, and now that I’m pining over love still unrequited, this may be the opportune time for me to mold it into words that sting.

But when I stare into the monitor, I just couldn’t muster enough energy.

I was mulling over this the other day and I told myself that instead of writing, I’ll just go and make some beaded jewelries. Then I said, No, I’ll just do a bit of water color art. Better yet, I should just practice my lessons in Spanish and conjugate some verbs. Although, I really ought to go and build myself a new book case for my overflowing books.

I ended up cataloguing my books for disposal instead.

Argh! Where’s my brain? I’m sure it’s around wosshere but I can’t find it. I can’t find my passion either. What do I pursue ba talaga?

If choosing wears me out already, how would I ever get to actual doing? I’m better off muttering to myself ala-Gollum. At least if I have multiple personalities, I’ll have an excuse for wanting so many things done.

Maybe I can also grow six heads to accommodate my mania.

Sunday, October 15, 2006

Stop Wishing. Let's Begin.


I wish I spoke.

Here was this really cute guy who reminds me of someone I recently met. It could've been simple to just ask if he's related to the person I know. Who knows where the conversation may have led?

Why didn't I just ask? Darn insecurities keep me at bay. He was really cute. He seemed interesting. Good English diction, witty and all. Dar it, darn it, darn it.

I wish I spoke. Why didn't I? Why didn't? Why didn't I?

Idiot savant extraordinaire. That I am.


Why can't I stop thinking of that boy?


Especially if the guy broke up with you. I feel so much for my friend who had to cancel a planned wedding. The guy just called it quits with no reasonable explanation at all. Now all of us in the high school barkada are single.

The curse of the High School Virgin holds true.


I drank two large glasses of iced coffee today. Maybe that's why my heart's beating so fast and my hands are shaking as I type. Nope. There'd be no sleep in sight yet.

I should start chasing cars in my head.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

They Came Tumbling Down

With Friday the 13the just around the corner, I know of 2 people who wouldn’t be feeling invincible.

Just witnessed an actual accident on my way to work this morning. This speeding bus bumped a motorcycle with 2 passengers. To make it worse, the bus did not stop running until his rear wheels went over the motorcycle. I think the man on the motorcycle would be having broken bones in his right foot. Meanwhile, the woman (his wife, I assume) behind him banged her head hard on the pavement. Good thing they were both wearing helmets.

I do believe I screamed and covered my eyes. I didn’t know I could shriek like that. The bus driver ran away. As in, he scampered off the bus and sped away on foot to God knows where. The passengers went down and just stared. Good thing the guy driving the car in front of us went down and started directing people how to act. I wish I went down to help as well.

Why didn’t I ?

Wednesday, October 11, 2006


How’s this for a freak accident?

The Manila Skyway is the favorite fly-over shortcut of most of the upper-crust-living people from Manila to southern Metro Manila. Yesterday, amidst the heavy rains, a Fortuner was speeding through the skyway, braked hard and spun 360 degrees. It hit an Isuzu Trooper that swerved so extremely that it flew of the fly-over and landed on its back ---- atop a passenger jeepney.

The driver of the Trooper was alive. I didn’t catch the news about the driver of the Fortuner, but I assume he/she’s alive. The passengers of the jeepney weren’t so lucky. A few of them were severely injured, but most of them were dead.

I wonder how it felt for the Trooper driver to see himself flying off the skyway? How did it look like going down? Worse, I wonder about the surprise the passengers felt when the vehicle landed on them. Was there even time to feel surprised? Did they even manage to have last loving thoughts about their family, their work, the things they love?

Weird, kamikaze world.

Saturday, October 07, 2006

Instant Jollibee

When toddlers start pinching you while riding the FX and when they appear hurtling towards you from out of nowhere only to use you as a human trampoline, you just have to ask why.

I know I love kids. They seem to like me too. Have no idea if that's enough to make them congregate around me though. It's a pleasure to spend a whole day playing with them; I swear that nothing beats the sparkle in their eyes when they're having a really good time. But I just have to ask : What do they see?

A walking and talking giant stuffed toy? Jollibee? Hetty Spaghetti?

In church, even babies would inadvertently focus their eyes on me. Then they'd start making those cute little eye batting movements and start extending their little chubby hands and I'm a goner.

I would've thought my being huge is a detrimental factor to dealing with kids --- i read that somewhere. Adults seem to be too tall and this intimidates them too much. Well, I'm larger than most adults (lengthwise, widthwise and edgewise) but kids swarm to me like bees to a honey pot. I guess my pillow-like arms are just to darn irresistable for kids four years old and below.

Wala lang. Just wondering aloud.

Friday, October 06, 2006

My Heritage

Site of the Day Alert!

I found the MyHeritage website through another blog. And it proved to be really fun. You register for free and you could upload a photo for yourself. They have face recognition technology and meta-data (whatever) which allows them to sift through countless photos of celebrities around the world and compare your face with. So far, this is who they say I look like:

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Try it out... :)

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Speed Dating

Book in Hand: To Weave a Web of Magic

A friend (let's call her N) came up to me the other day and said she's now into speed dating. No consequence then that she believes attraction is instantaneous-- its either you do or you don't. She believes its a glimmer of pure shine which you catch a sight of for just a single second then it's up to you to grab it or to let it fade away.

Huh. Wow. Love just like instant noodles --- Lucky Me!

Walk me through it, I said. How's it done?

With all the colors of the rainbow in her eyes, she gave me the lowdown. In her Minnie Mouse voice she said:

N: First, you find a speed dating venue. A lot of hip cool new places do this. Often, it'll be connected to a bar you frequent or a radio station promoting new stuff

O: Like I visit bars (she did not see me cringe -- she barely heard me).

N: Then you register, get numbers or code names, all girls go sit and the men do the round-about (or vice-versa). I like it when the girls just sit. Then you speak and you charm and you wait for the glimmer.

O: I snort.

N: You have one to five minutes (it varies) with each guy. After the whole carousel thing is over (ergh... what a description), you hook up with the person you felt most connected with.

O: If this is gonna be the new thing these days, then I'm a dinosaur.

N: Do you wanna try it?

O: Saints, preserve me!

N: It's not bad!

O: Are you going to the next speed dating thingie?

N: Yes, you'd never know.

O: What happened to the guy you met the last time?

N: We didn't really hit it off after all. But I'm still hopeful. Hey, if you're interested, text me, I'll get you in.

O: (mumble, mumble)

N: What??

O: I said cookies crumble. And I am not despite what I ate.

N: looks at me as if I've just landed from Pluto --- which isn't a planet anymore, actually.

Look, N, your good intentions haven't been overlooked. But you see, when it comes to finding love, I believe it's each to her/his own. Speed dating ain't my kind of cookie. I agree with you that most people like me instantaneously, as you've said, it might be because I look kind and happy -- adorable and huggable to boot. But see, so does Winnie the Pooh. And no one in his right mind would want to date Winnie the Pooh. No one even knows for sure if Winnie is a boy or a girl or both -- with what his infatuation with Christopher Robin making him/her/it inscrutinable. I don't have gender issues, but I'm not easily espied as actual girlfriend material.

I cannot make a boy fall in love with me in sixty seconds flat. I'm the kind who grows on people. My illusion is that -- someday, half of the men I've met would fall down flat on their face in the knee-weakening realization that they were actually fond of me that way. But by then, I'm married, living in Ireland or the mountains, and fawning over my little David standing beside the man who didn't take a quarter of a century to realize I'm prime stuff. Someone I must absolutely respect and admire and love.

Good luck, N. May you find your glimmering. And I --- would wait until the next comet comes which would instantaneously wipe me and my species off the face of planet Earth.



Not quite finished yet.

After Speed Dating, N and I began to talk about Drinking. Not water, mind you. Wine, beer, all those alcoholic stuff.

When I told her I haven't come across speed dating because I haven't been exactly making rounds of the bars in Metro Manila, her eyes completely bugged out.

N: Well, where do you and your drinking buddies go?

O: Which drinking buddies?

N: Anyone you go have "inuman sessions" with. (She may actually believe I am dumb enough not to know -- not for a moment realizing that I may be being sarcastic) ((or, she may not have "sarcastic" in her vocabulary, I now realize).

O: I don't drink alcohol, eh.

N: OMG (expletive), are you a teetotaler? (ah, but she knows this! her range of motion reveals itself)

O: Would that be so bad?

N: That is like, so stuck up, you know. Only control freaks don't drink.

O: What you've just said is quite similar to what brought gay and lesbians to such angry stupor over rights. They are human too.

N: But not drink? I can't see why.


N, let me try to explain.

It tastes bad. I indulge in every heavenly food in the universe -- completely debasing the theory of me being a champion for Temperance. But beer tastes like piss to me. Wine tastes like piss to me --- classier piss but piss nonetheless.

Cigarettes --- you may ask next. Tastes like acrid smoke. I'd sooner suck a tambutso.

Drugs --- you ask next. Completely unnecessary since I create my own hallucinogens. My Imagination can forge a rip in time big enough to suck me to another dimension and allow me to stay there for a month, if I want to.

Sex --- you slyly ask next, you fox, you vixen, you. This is the only thing which I have an actual vow of abstinence for; a promise uttered and intimated to the BVM at the tender age of 11 years old --- eons before I had an idea what sex was. None before marriage, no playing with fire. So far, no regrets, and if you would kindly refer to my Winnie the Pooh complications, you would also know why it's not so hard to keep the promise. Besides, sex isn't a vice, I think. It's an extension of love. Only without the latter does it become grimy.

So you see, I am not an utterly complete Teetotaler. And even if I am, I deserve to exist the way I believe I must. Angels preserve me like sweet apricots which I just hope would not rot forever in the cupboard of some decripit basement for all time.

Now, N. Can we move on to talk about something interesting this time? Like how floor tiles are manufactured and why tennis balls are fuzzy? With the life I've been living, I can promise you I actually know. :)

Saturday, September 30, 2006

Olivia the Giantess

Yesterday, my dad asked me to buy medicine from a nearby drustore. Sobrang daming tao! It struck me that so many people are getting sick and have come to depend on chemicals to survive. Not feeling so well myself, I just had to analyze how much the human biological make-up has evolved within the short span of a couple of centuries. Our ancestors definitely did not have the moxyfloxacin I was supposed to buy. All these science-y (but althogether silly) sounding drugs were still in their virgin chemical state back then and yet somehow people lived.

In the Bible, it states that people used to live for hundreds of years. But then again, as the Black Death and numerous terrible diseases spread, lives became shorter. For centuries, people used folk healing and a tremuluous faith-based curing system. Today though, modern medicine have saved lives. But why is it that now that we can live healthier, we also get sick more often?

I have reached this critical point in my mental processing when I was ungraciously jostled by the woman standing behind me. She wanted to "make siksik" so that she could get to the front and get her medicines faster. Ahead of us. We who have been standing there for fifteen minutes hoping we could have it done and over with. Ah, wrong move, woman.

I don't explode like other people do. I unfurl.

I don't usually use my breadth and width to get an unfair advantage over the other tiny people of this world. But some micro-organisms do get intrimidita and leave me no choice.

I walk this earth hunched and bunched up to look unassuming. But when I'm angry, I expand.

Yesterday, instead of verbally attacking that woman, I stood up straighter than I have ever did, stretched my shoulders back as if unfurling hidden wings, imagining it rising obliquely from my shoulder blades and swelling upwards two feet higher than my 5'6" frame. I even flapped it, for good effect.

Of course, the wings may be imaginary. But when I leveled my gaze at her, a giant with just a tinge of sardonic pity for such a small, small creature of the dust, she stepped back. Space opened up for me, and there were a couple of inches extra for me to not touch elbows with anybody else along that counter.

After getting the medicines, I left quietly and got back into the car along with my sister and cousin. I sighed and returned to my foldable, relatively smaller human self. Much as I want to be a force to be reckoned with, I admit it wouldn't be practical to live like a giant. Imagine the trouble I'll cause other people when I'm riding the bus. No one would understand.

Olivia the (not-so-gentle) Giantess exists though. And she comes out once in a while to balance out what her wimpy, whiny, push-over alter ego cannot do in the real world.

Demand, Divide, Conquer.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

So Shoot Me

I refuse to believe it.

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After whining over the banality of the recently shown hollwood films, I was taken in -- hook, line and sinker --- by a dime a dozen Pinoy romantic movie.

Maybe it's because I don't watch a lot of Pinoy films--- kaya siguro I found it-- hay, sige na nga: engaging. Pero the movie You Are The One wasn't really bad. The last pinoy romance movie I watched was that Rico Yan - Claudine Barretto team up so many years ago. And that wasn't bad either.

Maybe I should discount that not all romance movies are corny ---- some are actually light and fluffy and charming.

Maybe it's because you start not expecting too much from the movie so that you end up being surprised that you didn't cringe and roll your eyes throughout the whole thing.

Maybe Sam Milby who, measured by any device, cannot truly act but can still charm my boots off should be shot because he's definitely ruining my reputation. And Toni was such an all-around typical Pinoy girl that you can actually empathize with her. To think I don't even like Sam (too pa-cute) and Toni (too OA).

Maybe, truly, finally, I am completely jologs --- more than I've always thought I was --- and kind of happy about it. :)

Kayanin ko kayang manuod ng Sukob?

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Daragang Magayon

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