Saturday, May 31, 2008

Happy 27th!

Hey Mummy, Daddy!

I know that it doesn't mean you have acquired super computer knowledge just because you're in heaven now, so the probability of you guys reading this is just, and will always be just, in the metaphysical sense of the world. But I figured I have GOT to write it.

Happy 27th year wedding anniversary. As usual, your spending it together, and maybe right now you're in some knock-out place Palawan and all the ultra-cool places in the world could only aim to be. I mean, that's Heaven, for crying out loud. Ella and I both hope you're enjoying it.

We're kind of recovering down here on earth. I can tell stories about you without crying now, which I think is a vast improvement. I still have the tendency to mention you guys or some anecdote of yours in conversations with my friends, just like some lovesick puppy stuck in an awry, sticky mess. But I think the more we do that, the more we find the strength to glue up the fragments of our broken world. Not that it will ever be whole again, or look spanking new, but we aim to at least put it back together. Just enough to make a living out of our life.

We're still good girls. Too good. Are you sure you haven't installed some chip in our brains which makes us feel sick everytime we just even contemplate to be just a bit bad? Well, okay. We haven't been too good. I still can't follow the diabetic diet (Gosh, now I know why you guys can't follow it! It sucks!), forget to take my medicines, been late for work a jigillion times... oh, and I'm a touch more grouchy nowadays. Easy to get irritated or furious. I figured that's a better way of coping compared to moping around and contemplating what will happen if I accidentally die. Or getting sick whenever I'm depressed. I've read somewhere it might be ecause of the diabetes too. Sigh. I don't know. Nobody tells me what's right or wrong anymore. I'm left to figure it out for myself, and well, it sure isn't easy. Even things like laundry, keeping house, paying the bills, which dog food to buy or plan daily viands for everyone in the house, I mean how do I keep all that inside my head? How did the 2 of you?

But the house is in order. I know how the 2 of you was a stickler for a proper home. I think, so far, we've managed to make it a proper home again. Livable. Even crowded with all our memories together, we manage to wake up with a smile now. It didn't use to be this way. Maybe that's why we spent so much time away in Morning Breeze. The house always made me cry. But now, it's getting better. I guess standing up and facing what needs to be faced is still the best way to get over things.

I'm just glad the 2 of you are still together. You had sticky patches in your marriage and there were times I was deathly scared of losing one of you to divorce. But you guys pulled each other too. I don't know if losing both of you to death was better. But I'm sorely proud that my parents were one of those last vestiges of people who were able to make their marriage work. Through the good and the bad, through sickness and health, and even death cannot keep them apart. It's an envious thing. It gives me a sense of hope that somehow, someday, if I just emulate you guys, I might be able to find the right guy and make it work just as well. Yet it scares me too, because I might not be able to, and I will fail both of you.

I do still want kids. The little David you never got to see is still made of dream stuff floating in the galaxy of potentials. I'm getting more dubious if I will ever get the chance for a little David. I'm starting to believe I was born and built to be alone. Right now, it terrifies me. But the time might come when it would just feel like Me. Olivia, always the observer, documentor of truth, standing at the sidelines, crying tears of appreciation about the pretty things that happen in life, but mostly to other people. I can't believe anyone can make a Life out of it, but it seems I'm doing it too well. Is this what you dreamt for me? I have a feeling it isn't. So there springeth the hurt that I have failed you in this aspect too.

But I will not fail you in the other things. I will never forget to be human. I will never stop being guileless, polite, diplomatic, empathic. I will always seek knowledge and treasure it. I will not stop taking care of Ella. I will be the pillar of the home you left us (will be --- trying to get there). I will always strive to be dependable, capable, reliable. I will strive harder to not be dependent on people (really, it's so hard), losing pieces of my heart (chunks of it, sometimes) to people who always seem not to want it, fading into my imagination (which still overpowers my life sometimes) until reality is gone, because I'm not so good at those yet.

Oh, and the novel is still to be writ. But when it's finished, published or not published, it will be dedicated to you.

We miss you and still love you too the point of bleeding. But because of the same love, we live for you, because it's the only thing that gives our lives meaning. Nothing else to live down here for, except for the mission God is still about to reveal to us. When I've accomplished that, and done my best with all the other things, I do really hope you'll fetch me and bring me home. Because my Home is where you are.

Please, bring me home soon.

Friday, May 30, 2008

Oh Boy...



My world's about to change.... yet again.

Yes, this is going to be one of those i-hate-being-left-behind psychobabble, and don't say i didn't warn you. I'm just getting major whiplash from a deep-seated separation anxiety since I learned my best friend at work has finally, FINALLY decided to leave our organization.

On one hand, I agree that it's a good decision, since he can't seem to make himself like any other open positions inside the Foundation. It just might lead him to the work which would really help him grow... up. Better. Be the man I can almost see him becoming.

It just sucks something bad that it has to be somewhere I can't see. I'm not good with keeping in touch with friends unless they're someone I see on a day-to-day basis. So I get super anxious whenever someone will move out of my "reach" because I am sure something will change. And that's if they're just like "normal" friends. Ian, to me right now, is much more. I made him my crutch when I needed to stand up. He mollified me whenever I get too annoyed or angry, serving as the vacuum where my time bomb could blow up without doing any major damage. I think I even reconstructed my world in a way where he's like one of my personal Atlases holding the world up.

And when he goes... now what? I spin off-kilter again, precariously one nudge away from falling apart. Well, maybe that's just a tad too melodramatic... that's been done already when THEY left me and nothing could be worse than that. But, who to turn to now? In the immediate sense of the word?

I'm losing people to rely on fast. It amazes me how strong I pretend to be, when emotionally I need soooo many people to keep me up. To keep me going on. I can be super girl, but I need reasons. And I'm losing most of the reasons too quickly.

Maybe I'm overreacting, but can you really blame me? I've lost too many people already. Anything that might endanger the veracity of the remaining ones terrify me.

I'm really scared. And sad. And...

Angry because why the fuck did I even start to rely on him anyway? I'm an idiot.

Liv, I think Life's most challenging lesson you HAVE to learn is to NEVER give your heart to people who do not want it for keeps. NEVER. Especially if they didn't ask for it.

Stupid once, Stupid twice.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

See-saw Sacrado Kankanen Tambong Tambong


It's a game I play with Gabe. I'd be lying flat on my back with my knees bent up to my chest, and he'd be splayed on my legs. I'll move my legs up and down and sing "See-saw Sacrado, Kankanen, Tambong tambong..." I think it's an old Ifugao rhyme my Tita remembers from her childhood. So of course it's not the regular see-saw, but it does require a really sturdy set of legs.

This morning, Gabe woke up and immediately sought me out. While I was lying in bed, he sat on my stomach and started singing "see-saw sacrado..." so of course, I had to do it. (If you think otherwise, then you have never been subjected to the charms of a 4-year-old, poor you...)

While I was pumping my legs faster, Gabe let go of his hold and started whooping for joy. I shrieked and told him to hold on, but he shrieked back "I'm not scared, you're stable!"

I'm stable.

Wow. I felt like I was awarded an Oscar. Is my search for something/someone "stable" about to be revealed?
In college, I was so bent on finding a stable guy, one who would nullify my off-kilter world. But now, I realized, the stable person I needed badly has to be no one but me. The way my sister and I keep moving around, like gypsies, after our parents' death needs nothing but a stable personality. And between the 2 of us, the burden is on me.

Stable. Stable.

Who knew?

It has to be me.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Yummy



And I don't think I mean just the food.

My family is a family of gourmands. So yes, we actually enjoy watching cooking shows. Not that we get to replicate the dishes executed by those master chefs, but seeing them cook everything is feast enough for our eyes.

My Dad loved Wok with Yan. We actually tune in to the show every Saturday, or was it Wednesday? Then when we got cable TV, we watched East meets West and Wolfgang Puck. I also became a Bobbly Flay foodie (as opposed to groupie). And of course, Iron Chef rocks! Who thought a bunch of old men and women cooking up a storm could be an interesting contest? But it was awesome!

I actually liked their homey faces, those chefs. They looked believable and capable. No, I hated that good-looking chef in Food 911. He looked fake.

But who knew I'd change my mind when I saw a local cooking show counterpart? Chef to Go and its mainstay Rob Pengson is yummy. And the food, I imagine, is even more so. Just imagine, if your boyfriend is someone who could actually pronounce bavarois accurately (a kind of vanilla custard), and know the whole freakin' line of mushroom varieties? And if he can make pretty mean cuisine, i think you better tie his hands and feet and never let him out of your sight.

Sigh.

No, I don't want him for my own (liar,liar, pants on fire!); I could just imagine how much bigger I'll end up becoming. 350 pounds and all that. Please, dear Lord, just don't let him be some savant in preparing yummy meals that makes you lose weight, because then, only then, would the world be too cruel to bear.

Warrrgh.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

David It Is


Neehow-neehaw, as long as a David won, I'm good!

Turd TV

The thing about having no cable TV at home is this: you suddenly realize how hopeless the shows on local networks are. I know I have flmaed out a LOT of other tv shows before, but I have reached another inconceivable level of annoyance over the weekend.

Let's start with Pinoy Idol. Headache inducing, I promise you. I thought it was a singing contest, but I realized that the point is to have 3 TH judges tell you insensibilities. None of the contestants could sing, and none of the judges makes sense.

Dyesebel. Ilang beses nyo ba ireremake yan? And if Marian Rivera can shake her booty it doesn't mean she can act. If she's not being OA, she's bein pa-cute. I mean really.

And what the eff is Kapitan Boom supposed to be? My gosh, whoever that guy is, the one who portrays the transformed Kapitan Boom --- he's hopeless. Can't act, can't speak straight, doesn't even look good in his suit.

Crazy. Crazy TV. I'll go insane, swear. Good thing may replay ng Signos mamaya. That might redeem Philippine T, I hope.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Wonder Who

Andrea relates to me, but her advice always comes from a privileged point of view in life. Her solutions, logical, but hard to execute in reality.

Ella is too young.

Ian promises to be there but has no capacity to really understand me. Or interest. Whichever one.

Wonder who could really understand me now?

Monday, May 19, 2008

freaky

Maybe I'm hallucinating. But American idol's David Archuleta awfully reminds me of my friend Norman. I think it's the facial peleges.... Since Norms already has a twin, they probably are triplets.

Haha!





Sunday, May 18, 2008

Touch My Apple Bottom Jeans




Oh my God. I have it bad. While waiting for my change at the check-out counter in the convenience store, I just caught myself singing not-so-softly, "Touch my body, put me on the floor..." The elderly lady behind me wasn't inclined to sing with me, unfortunately. Darn it, darn it!
There ought to be a cure for the Last Song Syndrome. And it ought to be available over-the-counter in Mercury Drug Stores nationwide! Or maybe there ought to be a law against songs that sneaks its way into your subconscious, latches on to as many brain cells as it can saturate and make you sing embarassing but addictive lyrics that could ruin social lives.

Mariah Carey sings Touch My Body and when she does, it sounds so kittenish and sexy, and maybe a part of me ( a very hidden part) that wants to be just like that makes me repeat the song over and over. And what about Flo Rida's Low? I'm walking the flood-soaked streets of Monumento and I'm singing "Apple bottom jeans and boots with the fur, fur, fur..." under my breath.

What the eff are APPLE BOTTOM JEANS anyway?

Also, if I were wearing boots with fur this rainy May, everyone would know I'm coming by the smell of wet dog that precedes me.

And you know what my ultimate LSS is? The one song that I fall back to when my brain switches to automatic-pilot? For the last 10 years?

"There are places I remember, all my life..."

But I guess I'm better of than our neighbor's daughter, Jillaine, who I once overheard singin, "Don'tcha wish your girlfriend is hat likes me, don'tcha, don'tcha..." Believe me, I made no typographical errors in that phrase, promise!

Thursday, May 15, 2008

A Series of Unfortunate Events



The memory of happiness is the most unfortunate event.

How perfectly, painfully, heartbreakingly true.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Wanderlust

Book in Hand: The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart Song in Mind: The Oompha Loompa song from Charlie & the Chocolate Factory



I can't sit still nor can I concentrate for long. My mind wanders and my feet longs to follow. I have a classic case of wanderlust. I want to go somewhere I haven't been before, and I want to roam free. Maybe, whatever it is I want to find, I'll find after traveling. Maybe I'll find it out there, or maybe I'll find it when I get home. Wherever Home is now.

All I know, I need to go.

Thursday, May 08, 2008

Blame it on the Weatherman


They said that by now I would start acclimatizing to the weather this kind of life has to offer.

I can only wonder how.
How could anybody like this floating sensation, this oblivionesque state of existence? No, I wasn't built to be alone. I used to think I am a loner, but it is dawning on me that I was okay to be alone when I knew my fall back people were there. But since they've gone, lonely is the last thing I want to be. I like my quiet moments, but they've stretched on a little too long than I can endure.

They said I'll be okay any minute now.

Meanwhile, the rain goes on....


Wednesday, May 07, 2008

Didn't Think

( I wrote these lyrics, would somebody know a fitting melody?)

Didn’t know it was too much
To ask to be the girl of songs
Men sing their lullabyes to.

Didn’t think it’ll be so long
Before the one will find me waiting
Like the good girl I’ve always been

If love isn’t about believing
Then what else could one girl be singing
Except for a lonely love song
Meant for no one but herself?

Didn’t know it was too much
Didn’t think I deserve this luck
I Didn’t know…

That people can search their whole lives
And come up with nothing but air
And nothing’s changed

Didn’t think you could try and try
And still lose to a fate long prophesied
What’s one heart to do?

If love isn’t about believing
Then what else could one girl be singing
But a lonely love song
Meant for no one but herself?

What if everything I knew
The Fairytales they drew
Were all threads in the wind
And I’ll be standing forever
Of stone, of earth, of water
Flowin, standin’ waiting…

I still don’t know…What’s one heart to do?

Him

Silence is
The only evidence of
Hope I have
That there will
Be
A day that you
Will realize
That I am not your friend
But I am
Your missing
piece
Which you
Could only hope to find
If you will
Open
Your eyes and
hold my
Hand.

Them



Boundaries lost
Missing ---
Them
Cry out for mercy
From Known powers that grant
Solace to the lonely
The heat of missing
Them
The need to fill in gaping
Holes
Of broken souls
Seeking cold
Seeking warmth
Flashing light
Weeping dark.

Monday, May 05, 2008

Kite-Making

Growing up a girl has its setbacks. Being gifted with Barbie dolls is one. People buying you all things pinks is another. But I recently discovered that I have no idea how to make a kite as well. When Gabe asked for a kite, it's a good thing our second cousin Joakim knows how.



My gosh, kite-making is a science and an art.

First, you have to get pieces of walis tingting and make sure they are aligned properly. It's best to use plastic bags because it's lighter. You have to make sure that the plastic is stretched and taut so it'll fly higher. There's even balancing the thread so it won't bear too much to the left or right.

Really, something so simple couldn't be that complicated, but it is. It demands knowledge of physics and gravity and wind velocity. Not kid's play at all.

It seems trivial to adults, I'm sure. But it's never too late to learn how to make a kite. The imagination grows better, not older. Can't wait for tomorrow when we'll fly it at the Sunken Garden in UP.

Growing up doesn't mean forgetting the simple liberties. I'm pretty sure of that now. It's about expanding boundaries and kite-making has just moved my borders a little further than before. I'm glad.

Resurfacing

After a long, long while, I get to breathe again. Yep, the summer camp thing is done and over with, and I am taking a much needed rest. Nice to breathe non-toxic air once more.

Here's some pics from the recently concluded Sharing the Dream Youth Camp.



Team PBSP




Just only a tad bit crushin'... honestly.


Moi with An Borra and Mac Librea of UPPC



For some reason, Geo wanted to be in the picture. I have a guess it's not because of me.


Ian and Ava muckin' about.



B1 & B2. As in Ball 1 and Ball 2. He honestly doesn't smile because he thinks it makes him look rounder. I haven't figured out a way to tell him it's not about the smile... not just yet.

Sunday, May 04, 2008

Pieces of Each Other


I think Gabe and I are pieces of each other, made apparent by the similarity of our faces....


And the way we muck about...


The same intensity...


And same peachiness.

Funny to see little versions of myself in him. I think it gives me a little sense of... hmmm, what is it? I think this is immortality.