Monday, June 30, 2008

Fairytale Life

I chanced upon a good friend on YM today. I asked her how she was, and she didn’t sound so chipper with her response. She’s in the Middle East, with a kick-ass rich boyfriend and blazing trails as one of the few women engineers in the region. To turn the conversation to happier things, I asked how was her “Prince.” Bad move.

She replied, “Life isn’t a fairytale, girl.” She wouldn’t tell me why exactly, but she believes that fairy tales are lies.

What? What’s she talking about? Life IS a damn fairytale, that’s why it’s so surreal and complicated. It isn’t a Charles Perrault fairytale, yes, but it’s every inch the Brothers Grimm.

I guess it’s not her fault she grew up with watered-down stories of Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. But the fairytales I’ve come to understand are those where girls with dancing shoes cut of their feet and ogres who capture princesses don’t keep them around just to play a golden harp.

Life is scary, unfair, dark, bloody, grim, as much as it is ethereal, bright and wonderful. Life is a fairytale, girl. In fact, it’s the most terrifying and wonderful fairytale of all.

I don’t know what you’re going through over there, R, but I do hope you’ll find the fairy tale in you where the damsel in distress kicks butt and steers the pirate ship home.

Sunday, June 29, 2008

What exactly is a...


Yeah, we just watched Made of Honor, and the scene with the Grandma wearing thunderbeads as a necklace might be hilarious if I only knew what they were meant for. I know I should google it instead of posting it on a blog where hundreds would snicker and laugh at my ignorance. But I'm still hesitant if this is something I should know. For somebody smart, i can get pretty inane.

I can go as far as deducting it's a sexual device and that it's for "pleasuring" but where it goes and what it does, I have no idea.

Maybe it's better off that way.

The Smell of Car Fumes in the Morning

It's Sunday, a Church Day, Family Day, Gimik Day.

I remember when it used to be something to look forward to. Mummy, Daddy, Ryan, Ella and I will squeeze into Pula and drive off to our Sunday adventures of malling, park tours and sumptuous food.

But even before we get inside the car, Daddy would be warming up our old lemon early in the morning. And since my room is directly above the car port, it wasn't unsual for me to wake up to the smell of carbon monoxide and the gurgle of an ancient motor revving up an down. It's been a while.

Imagine my confusion when I woke up hearing a running motor and the smell of CO this morning. WHa--??

As in confused, ha! And that tight feeling inside the chest which got me thinking 10,000 thoughts per second: "No, it can't be, they're de--- Yes, why not, No, must be a dream, but yes, it's real, I can smell the stuff---- I'm finally, finally cuckoo --- how much is therapy..."

I rose from bed like lightning, threw open my window to see an empty car port. That didn't help, believe me. I thought I was being haunted by our old car which I sold to the first bidder right after Daddy's passing away. I was almost expecting a ghostly voice to accost me : "Why did you seeellll meeeee.... Woooooh...."

Which is silly and stupid and after a few more seconds I finally noticed that a car was stalled outside our gate and they were trying to warm up the engine before they can move on.

I'm a silly git.

I wanted to cry, because impossible as it was, unreal and silly as it was, I had the tiniest, tiniest hope that a miracle has happened. That I got everything wrong -- they're not gone, my life's back, I woke up from the nightmare, thank God it's over.

But it was just a passing car. Hay.

I also realized I better get a hold of myself because it looks like I will never be one of those girls who would gush about guys and their shiny new sports cars. If this goes on, I might just fall for the guy with a lemon for a car. One that needs to be warmed up 3 hours before use and exhales fumes like an Irish tobacco piper.

That might just be my happy ending.

Saturday, June 28, 2008

I Got Scribd

While browsing through Yahoo answers the other day, I saw a reply to a "Where can I find the e-book of blah-blah-blah for free" which changed my netlife... at least for the last 4 days. Somebody suggested she check out if they have the book she's looking for. I casually clikced the link, and a site highlighting manuals came up. Buti na lang, I decided to search for Sophie Kinsella, and I came up with 2 of her books --- in pdf format. I freaking hit motherlode.

I searched for every book I wanted the last few months: the Bartimeus Trilogy, the Twilight series, Sarah Dessen books, even Lord of the Rings Annotated versions. A-ma-zing!

Of course, nothing beats turning a page to read a book. But if something's for free, I'm willing to commiserate a few things.

I do not intend to become a full-fledged pirate, of course. I will pay for books of authors I respect. Nothing can replace a tangible, physical book. But during these times of tight purse strings and NFA rice, Scribd is manna.


Thursday, June 26, 2008

The Munchies

Boy, have I got the munchies bad. I’m like a pig that can’t stop grubbing. Maybe I haven’t got enough on my mind, so all I can think of is food. I am blogging as a desperate attempt to remove my attention from eating, and maybe to disgust myself with my stunning performance in digesting diverse and copious amounts of food.

I am not going to bore you with a list, because it might look like a grocery list for a family of six. I haven’t gotten this bad since… since… I can’t even remember when. I think I’ll go shopping for clothes later tonight. That way, I’ll be reminded how many things WON”T fit me and my food-shoving strategies ain’t helping much either.

Argh. Anybody got a Snickers bar on their person? Please, I’m desperate!

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Music I'm Feeling These Days

The Call by Regina Spektor

Heard this during the Prince Caspian closing credits and I knew it was going to be a favourite. The lyrics are simple --- even a little juvenile --- but Spektor's voice is fantastic. Her voice isn't usually polished. I have heard her other songs and I thought them too scary. But this one's nice. It's sad but sweet, and it gives me a little hope; for what, I think it's not important.

It started out as a feeling
Which then grew into a hope
Which then turned into a quiet thought
Which then turned into a quiet word

And then that word grew louder and louder
Til it was a battle cry

I'll come back
When you call me
No need to say goodbye

Just because everything's changing
Doesn't mean it's never
Been this way before

All you can do is try to know
Who your friends are
As you head off to the war

Pick a star on the dark horizon
And follow the light

You'll come back
When it's over
No need to say good bye.em>

Breathe In, Breathe Out by Matt Kearney

This is THE love song for me. If I just find one man who can sing this to me and mean every bloody word... I will marry him.

Breathe in
Breathe out
Tell me all of your doubts
Everybody bleeds this way
Just the same
Breathe in
Breathe out
Move on and break down
If everyone goes away
I will stay

We push and pull
And I fall down sometimes
I'm not letting go
You hold the other line

Cause there is a light
In your eyes
In your eyes

Hold on
Hold tight
If I'm out of your sight
And everything keeps moving on
Moving on
Hold on
Hold tight
Make it through another night
Everyday, there comes a song
With the dawn

We push and pull
And I fall down sometimes
But I'm not letting go
You hold the other line

Angels covered by David Archuleta

I loved it ever since Robbie Williams sang it a decade ago, but loved it more when David Archuleta's guileless voice sang it. It just sounded purer and clearer. More hair-raising, as if an angel was singing it himself. Give it a listen!

I sit and wait
does an angel contemplate my fate
and do they know
the places where we go
when we’re grey and old
‘cos I’ve been told
that salvation lets their wings unfold
so when I’m lying in my bed
thoughts running through my head
and I feel that love is dead
I’m loving angels instead

Mercy by Duffy

I didn't like it at first. It sounded so 70s. But after a while, it actually grows on you. It's one of those LSS inducig songs... but it's okay. The lyrics won't make you sound like a convict or a whore. So go ahead, indulge!

Now you think that I
will be something on the side
but you got to understand
that i need a man
who can take my hand yes i do

I don't know what this is
but you got me good
just like you knew you would

I don't know what you do
but you do it well
I’m under your spell

You got me begging you for mercy
why wont you release me
you got me begging you for mercy
why wont you release me
I said you’d better release yeah yeah yeah

Hold my Hand by Hootie & the Blowfish

It's catchy, it's sweet and it's not mushy. I just like singing along and moving my head to the beat. Try it, it's almost therapeutic.

With a little love, and some tenderness
Well walk upon the water
Well rise above this mess
With a little peace, and some harmony
Well take the world together
Well take em by the hand

cause Ive got a hand for you
cause I wanna run with you

Yesterday, I saw you standing there
Your head was down, your eyes were red
No comb had touched your hair
I said get up, and let me see you smile
Well take a walk together
Walk the road awhile, cause

cause Ive got a hand for you
Ive got a hand for you
cause I wanna run with you
Wont you let me run with you? yeah

Hold my hand
Want you to hold my hand
Hold my hand
Ill take you to a place where you can be
Hold my hand
Anything you wanna be because
I wanna love you the best that, the best that I can

Safe in a Crazy World by Corrine May

I'm not sure if this Singaporean singer is famous already, but I saw her CD in Fully Booked, gave it a listen and loved it immediately. Her songs are girlish, but not girly. Hopeful and not hapless. She's kind of good. I'm highlighting this one song, but the others are just as nice: If We Kissed, The Birthday Song, Little Superhero Girl.

I try to smile my tears away,
I try to keep my cool.
Oh but one more door gets in my way
I feel like such a fool
Trampled and bitter,
My heart just wants to bleed and stop Believing in me.

It feels like nothing is for certain
and that nothing comes for free
When they're lowering the curtain to the theatre of my dreams
I stumble and i crumble and I'm sinking to my knees for you
You cradle me

You keep me flying
You keep me smiling
You keep me safe in a crazy world

Say It Again by Marie Digby

Mandy Moore tried so hard to make an effective cover of "Umbrella" (last year's top LSS-inducing song) and failed so desolately. It was just tooooo over-acting. It couldn't hold a candle to marie Digb'y cover, which was uppity but not sappy. Believe it or not, I like her cover of Maroon 5's Make Me Wonder too. But she doesn't do covers only, she's got her songs. This is one which I like, if only because I keep imagining if my life was a movie, this is how I'll be finding love. :)

And she's so pretty too...

The thing about love
Is i never saw it coming
It kinda crept up and took me by surprise
And now there`s a voice inside my heart that`s got me wondering
Is this true, i want to hear it one more time

Move in a little closer
Take it to a whisper
Just a little louder

Say it again for me
Cuz i love the way it feels when you are telling me that i`m
The only one who blows your mind
Say it again for me
It`s like the whole world stops to listen
When you tell me you`re in love
Say it again

Thing about you is you know just how to get me
You talk about us like there`s no end in sight
The thing about me is that i really want to let you
Open that door and walk into my life

Move in a little closer
Take it to a whisper
Just a little louder

Say it again for me
Cuz i love the way it feels when you are telling me that i`m
The only one who blows your mind
Say it again for me
It`s like the whole world stops to listen
When you tell me you`re in love

I love comments, y'know. :D

Burger King Tambay

It's true, I've become a BK tambay, if only because of its free wi-fi. I spend hours and hours logged on --- all for the cost of french fries and Coke. And then some.

Anyhow, today's blog will be about freakin' Meralco who still has't found a way to repair the electricity in our area. All our food in the refrigerator has already gone to rot, not to mention our water shortage cos our water is electric-powered. If this goes on for another day, I will kill someone in Meralco.

They deserve each and every bit of the muck they are stuck in. Sod all of em.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Girly Reunion

It's actually gonna happen... I'm at Shang right now waiting for the other girls from Grade 6-Assumption to arrive. Yep, Grade freakin' 6 classmates, some of whom I havent seen for the last oh, 15 years or so...

It's pretty amazing if you come to think of it.

Made me think a bit. When I was in 6th grade, I thought life would be all set by 26. I imagined myself a famous writer, who's done a bit of TV on the side, and probably best friends with Oprah Winfrey. Goes to show how much you know in 6th grade.

But hey, I admit, rich and famous I am not. But extremely lucky nonetheless I am.

Wish me luck for tonight. I'll try to hold my own.

G'nyt, ya folks.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Another Lesson for the Big Little Girl

There is a sweetness in waking up to a non-stressful Saturday morning: I woke up greeted by chirping birds, and the soft noise of water splashing while my sister takes a bath. I hear the rumble of passing cars, and I think: all of them are going somewhere today, I am not… and that makes me sooo giddy. I have this day ALL to myself. Yey!

Last night, a friend from college called me up out of the blue to ask how I was. She wanted to meet up next week, and I agreed. But I suppose there are some things she couldn’t wait to ask about. After her sensitive probing about how I am (referring to my parents’ death, I think) she asked in a brighter, chirpier tone, “Oh, eh ang love life?”

To which I replied it isn’t DOA like my parents, because it was never alive to start with. She laughed and proceeded to tell me about her unrequited crush on a Belgian workmate and regaled me of stories about his preference for peach melba and Calvin Klein undershorts. So alam nyo na, segue lang ang pagtatanong. Because she probably knew I had nothing to report, and it’s the perfect jumping point for her to relay facts about her precious Steven (note to friend: most guys named Steven, Stephen, Stefan turn out to be gay). My friends are wily, wily people.

Any other day, I’ll be irritated and would probably make up an excuse to hang up the phone. But last night, I chose to listen instead.

Unrequited you said?

I think I have heard too much of that word not to analyze it carefully and deconstruct people’s concept of it. To Mia (that’s the friend), Unrequited Love is a chase. The guy being foreign probably helps her become more assertive in the pursuit, I don’t know. But amongst my other friends, take Dre for example, UL is the embodiment of the ideal. She likes them distinguished, troubled, and sometimes, bald. For Yel, it is the impossible (i.e.: Pining for a royal Prince never did any good to any girl, unless you’re Kate Middleton).

To me, I realized it’s the imbalance. Love is either overwhelming or underwhelming. But note that it’s not always us at the brute end of the stick. Every time there’s a misalignment of what supports love: trust, need and sacrifice, UL happens. It can happen to any type of relationship: romantic, passionate, filial, and platonic.

It’s just a matter of accepting that some people will love you and some can’t love you the way you want them to, the same way you can never bring yourself to love somebody forcibly. This is a hard, hard lesson to learn. Coz you know, I’ve always been so darn lovable. Heheh!

So Mia can turn triple somersaults in the air, but Steven won’t still date her. Dre can offer ten thousand novenas, but the guy won’t change his mind. Yel can go to London, but she can’t get to the crowned prince.

And I can write about it ad nauseam, but it doesn’t mean I totally understand it.

So there. Another Saturday to set my perspectives straight... I knew this was going to be a fun weekend. I plan to write, paint, philosophize and atrophy. c",) Once in a while, we do get unbelieavably lucky.

Friday, June 20, 2008


(not related to the novel written by Geraldine Brooks)

If you've been reading this blog and its other sub-blogs (?) for some time now, you might have read about a lot of my friends already. The live ones, at least. But one thing's for sure: I haven't introduced you to my imaginary friends yet. No, don't worry, I'm not about to divulge I had a childhood friend named Chucky and he kept telling me to hurt people.... His name was Jafira instead. Hehe, okay, scratch that.

Seriously though, I do like the world I have created inside my mind. Some of the people I made up are seriously, seriously real. And their lives are ALWAYS more exciting than mine. At one point or another, you might have stumbled upon their names already within my short stories. But I think, formal introductions are forthcoming, that is, if you intend to continue reading my blog periodically. (Kung hindi, basahin mo na rin para maintindihan mo how far gone I am). Alright. Here goes. :)

From Lumengracia

January - If people can be named April or May, why not January? It is her birth month, yes, and she lives in Lumengracia (patterned after Rosario, Pangasinan). She was being bullied by her classmates (who were named after Bible chacracters i.e. Peter, Paul, and Mary --- wait, Carpenters din yun ah?)because of her "pagan" name. But after finding "protectors" in the guise of two unseeming classmates, she came to her own. She became best friends with the 2 boys. She became a lawyer and eventually ended up practicing her profession in their quaint town.

Eliong - Just the name itself is so promdi, noh? I like this character a lot, because promdi to me means guileless and brave. He's one of January's protectors. He grew up to be a farmer, married his high school sweetheart and named their kids Spartacus, Aristotle, Philemon Cassius and King Edward (yes, King Edward). So he's a well-read farmer, what?

Moses - The Moses I knew was never quite as hunky as the Moses I made up. But they do share some characteristics. I used his dusky complexion, beautiful eyes, his long artist fingers and his twisting smile. But my made-up Moses was a responsible boy (unlike the real one) & rarely happy-go-lucky partly because he grew up in a conflicted environment. Guess what? He's in love with January and wants to spend his life with her, but Fate has other ideas.

Nebuchadnezzar - By now you've noticed Lumengracia is about the rocky horror show of names gone wrong --- :) This guy was named after the infamous king just because his father happened to open that page in the Bible while choosing. You'd think he'd be the one getting the butt end of jokes instead of January. He grew up to be the right-hand man of the town mayor and provides the comic relief in the story. Oh, and yeah, he changed his name to Chad.

From Chronicles of Gea

Iviyanar - I made a name for myself based on Tolkien's Elven Language. Ivi means twilight, anar means light / power. I kind of like the darkness and light conflict. My failed high fantasy novel (kasi di ko matapos-tapos) includes her as one of the Five Guardians of the Arcane and she holds the Staff of Wisdom (if you're not a fantasy fan, you'll never understand this). Her biggest setback is that she's aelfborn (elf+human parents). Her biggest achievement is taking what she is and becoming more. She fulfills her destiny as one of the great mages after she has helped track the other lost guardians (lost either by memory or by choice) and restored the balance using the staff. She is also the keeper of the Books of Guardians which kind of holds the secret on how to destroy the world. So she does everything to guard it, until finally, to destroy it. Whew. it's complicated.

Amnor - based on my friend Norman. He's cute. Okay, okay, and powerful. THere, I said it.

Murieull - a warrior sylph. Read: sexy ass-kicking nympho-vixen. (Mariel will kill me if she reads this).

Edvar - His earth name is Edward (another book club friend). Made-up Edvar is a mortal, but strong. And good with his sword. I mean, a real sword.

Pelesse - a dark elf who is an unlikely candidate for the Guardianship. He almost destroys Iviyanar and the group, but he found the road to perdition. He's the most awesome character in the book actually. All that dark and brooding manic depressive schmuckles you can only find in the truly insane. Yep, right here.

Other Various

Libby, Violet, Ivy, Sylvie, Liz, Lizzie -- they're all facets of myself. As long as it sounds like my name, I probably made up the story she is in to satisfy/console/feed a psychological trauma --- ha!

Sebastien - a construct, a hope, a hybrid, and usually stands for "The One." He doesn't really exist. And that's the saddest thing in my universe. Sigh. :)

Beaver - Where have you been hiding the last 10 years? Princess Diana called William Beaver out of affection and if I say I have never fancied calling him "Beaver Sweetykins" I will be lying... well, maybe remove the Sweetykins... gag-inducing kasi.

Jeremy - It sounds average and boy-next-door-ish. Anybody can be a Jeremy. But the things I put Jeremy through (May-December romances, battling vengeful demons, falling in love with warrior Angels)always pushes him to realize his dream... I'm amazed he still stuck around.

Celestine - a warrior angel who wears tight red body suits because it saves time washing out all the blood. She is part of the Armies of Heaven that fights against the minions of Darkness (astigin kahit meaningless diba?)So you see, you can be good and still be bad with a blood-soaked capital B. She helps Jeremy secure the Prophet of God ( a child aged 8) and sacrifices her existence in the end for the sake of restoring the balance between Good and Evil. Which of course left Jeremy and his bleeding love quite desolate. But not so much. Medyo lang.

You do understand that meeting them out of context might have affected your perception a bit. I do try my best not to make them cardboard characters --- that's why I treat them as real people. Real enough to talk to when bored, or to manipulate their lives according to my whim.

They probably hate me. But they wouldn't exist without me so they worship me. :) Haha! No, really, I have made friends on Earth, but I am proud that I like the company I keep when I am with them as well. So you see, even during the oddest hours, I am not alone.

Goodnight, y'all!

Monday, June 16, 2008


His name is Jeremy.

His eyes have that weird quality of being light brown in direct sunlight, but totally black when seen intimately. His smile quirks up to the right, ending in a half-Joker curl which would look ridiculous on any other person but him. He has the arrogance of his youth, proud for one moment, but then, curious the next. He is hungry for knowledge and experience just like a young wolf; he devours life as if he would never get enough. He is fresh, he is tentative, he is overconfident, and he is lost. He is also just seventeen years old.

I am a crone. I am wrinkled in places the sun never sees. Sagging and jiggling in places it never ought to be. But I am an Amazon. I am tall, for someone so ancient. No lines or creases have touched my face just yet. I look young, but I feel old. And perhaps I am not wise. If I were, I would have stayed away. I would have never fallen in love with a cub of a boy---- a lion of a boy. A devourer.

At the early part of our relationship --- yes, it was a relationship somehow--- he would sit in my class, trying to be unassuming, and totally failing at it. How he imagined he could blend in, I don’t know. He stood out like a delicate lotus amidst common water lilies. He shone, that’s the best I could describe it. He shone with an inner light that pulsed dark now and then. His was tainted innocence, and it was seductive and fascinating.

If only it stayed that way: raised hands, deliberations on development and economy, and submitted homework, I would still have my job. But a few weeks into the semester, trouble at home has kept Jeremy from going to the university. And we all know trouble boils double, don’t we? After 3 weeks of absence, he knocked on my office door and asked for reprieve. I should have turned him away, told him I do not give passing grades to lackeys. I would’ve, if only I haven’t noticed his split lip. There were still traces of blood on it and I swallowed my words of rejection.

“You are hurt.” I said, as formal as I can make myself sound. “Your lip is still bleeding.”

A brief surge of emotion rose to his eyes. Anger. Hurt. Then Sadness. “It’s nothing, Miss. I hit my lip on a … doorknob.”

“That’s some vengeful doorknob to have hit you on the eye as well. But at least that’s not a screaming violet as I would expect a bruise to be.” He smiled, a small lifting of the lip, but it took the wind out of me. I hesitated, shifted on my feet. Well. “Come in, let’s talk.”

I have chosen this damnation.

He said he would do anything to pass my subject. Can’t I give him some special task, some extra work, he asked. I asked why he split his lip.

“The truth?” he asked.

“If I was asking for anything but, Jeremy, I would be teaching Law instead.” I answered, tone as dry as twigs. “The truth, please.”

“My uncle beats me.” His hands turned into fists. “My father is dead, and it is my uncle who runs our business now. He’d love if I die so he could have everything I rightfully own, for himself.”

Trouble, trouble. “And what does your mother say about this?”

His eyes glistened. “I have not talked with Mother for the last two years.”

“She could help you with this.” I reprimanded.

“She couldn’t! She’s been in a coma for 2 years. She can barely breathe without a machine, so to talk, or to tell off my uncle is nothing short of a miracle!”

“Then come out in the open and sue your uncle, Jeremy. This is abuse. He has no right to hurt you. And if he is trying to steal what is rightfully yours, he is a thief.”

“I am a minor! Who will believe me?” His forehead was creased in fury. He gripped the edge of my table so hard his knuckles were turning white. “Who will help me?”

I sat in silence and waited for his anger to pass. Then I answered, “I will.”

Two words which turned both our worlds upside down. I really thought I could help him then without getting dangerously close. I asked for help from my lawyer friends. But they said we’ll have a stronger case if Jeremy was already of age. At seventeen years old, he still needs a guardian. Since his mother is in a coma, the uncle might still have some loophole to play out. A year. They said we could wait a year.

But in one year, Jeremy could be a beaten pulp, not just physically but the beautiful things about him as well. His spirit. His innocence. And I thought I was protecting all of those when I offered to help.

I asked if he would consider moving to a boarding house for a while. He said he needed people he trusts to be around. I asked my sister if he could stay in her house, but with her 4 boys, she had every right to hesitate. I did not push. And then Jeremy asked me if he could stay with me instead.

I said okay.

I should have been wiser. More careful. I should’ve seen the signs.

He left his uncle and moved in with me on a Saturday. I prepared the small library room for him and a comfortable couch to sleep on. He never got to sleep on it.

The same night, he knocked on my bedroom door and asked to talk. I clutched at my bathrobe and stilled my breath.

“Can’t it wait tomorrow, Jem?” at this point, we were using nick names, pet names, if you must call it that.

“Sylvie, I… I’m sure I’ve done the right thing. But I want to know if you’re sure too.” He said.

“It is right, and it is true.”

He blew a sharp breath of relief. “I just want to be really, really sure.” He smiled. “Thank you for helping me do this. I wouldn’t have been able to gather my wits about me, much less sue the bastard. You saved me.” And with that he leaned forward to kiss me.

I wish I could tell you that I caught it in on my cheek. I still wonder if I should’ve sent him to his couch and then commandeered my sister to take him in after all. But lips call out to lips and hunger seeks fellow hunger. I was Humbert, he was my Lolita. Not even Nabokov’s most famous scumbag came this close to his prize with more than mere willingness. I --- a crone --- was kissed by my precious’ lips.

I don’t think we even broke apart for air. We were each other’s air. We breathed in the scent of the other, as if gathering perfume in our lungs. Our hands were explorers, we held each other and learned the curvatures of our new territory. Clothes fell, we fell. We moved, we pressed closer, we rose, and we fragmented into a million pieces. And when we put ourselves back together, it was impossible to put the world back the same way again. We ended up with pieces of ourselves in the other.

I have never felt so complete.

So I don’t care if you judge me today. You can throw me into that cell. Let me just say that if you do that, you have unwittingly played the hand of his uncle seated peacock-like on that side of the room. I have acted unwisely. But I now doubt if it was ever immoral. How can something so real, so searing true, be a taboo? Isn’t the highest law about saving lives? He says I saved him, and he has saved me.

No, I don’t believe I abused him. Nor broke him. We completed each other, why is that so hard to understand? He is young, yes. I was too. Ask him next month, when he turns 18, if he feels any different about our love. Ask him five years from now.

And you can ask me until the end of my life if I regretted any of this. I will give you the same answer you heard today. No.

And no.

And never.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Kung Fu Panda

The thing is, we watched 2 movies last night --- yeah, one after the other. Barely 5 minutes apart actually. So there's a tendency to blur what Aslan has said with the things Master Shifu has said.

But ain't Master Shifu adorable??

Anyways, Kung Fu Panda was rollickin' good. Laugh out loud funny, if you must. And the graphics were actually pretty good. Po's just so real in his hugeness. I mean, I can actually relate!

Stairs, food-fixation, jiggly belly and all --- Po is the personification (or cartoonization) of my friend, Ian. Pramis!!!

I did enjoy the movie, even if it was meant for younger audiences. I think it's the "Secret Ingredient" twist in it that resonates true even to older people. How many of us have searched for "The Secret", for that one thing which will save us from being ordinary? All the while, we just needed to look at a damn mirror.

Not a bad thing at all....

Prince Caspian

Baby, you can light my fire...

Whew, is it hot in here or what???

Scott Garceu, my favourite columnist for the Philippine Star, said the movie kinda sucked. He didn't say outrightly say it was dumpy, but he did say it didn't stand up to the book.

After watching the movie, I agree that nothing can touch the book. But it WASN"T half as bad as I expected it would be. For one, the actors playing the Pevensie children have become THE Pevensie children in my imagination. William Moselly is just Peter-ish to start with, and Susan's darkness and light is captured well by Anna Popplewell. They just are the children. Ben Barnes have been said to be too old for Prince Caspian, but I am happy he isn't foppishly handsome as sell-out movies tend to cast actors. This Prince Caspian wasn't what i imagined him to be when I read the book, but now that he's it, I kind of... like it.

A lot. :D (devilish grin)

Watch it if it's still showing and haven't been replaced by the nth version of the Incredible Hulk.

Thursday, June 12, 2008


So tell her. Tell her she's your moon and stars. Fucking tell her you can't breathe without her. Tell her she is the reason you exist. Jesus, Patrick. Tell her everything.

All the sappy unoriginal things you feel for her, let her know. Sing one parody of a love song to another. Say things like you would do anything for her, do anything for love, do all the fucking things iditoic people in love do. You already gave her a hundred dollar flower arrangement, and that 5 thousand dollar signet on her necklace. Well, go do something even more inane like buy her a helicopter and fly her to the Bahamas and go parachuting down, down to the white sand beach.

Call her your Juliet, your muse, your inspiration. Call her Delilah who fucking weakened Samson. Call her all the sweet things you could think of and make her smile.

Tell her

the earth shakes



kiss her.

Tell her everything now, and not later, now, now. Speak Patrick, because if you don't the words will swallow you whole and it will puke you out into a sick world where you can only watch your true love sailing away, farther from your reach. It's a carnival of a life, where the freaks are by your side, and the gods you raised on pedestals mock you.

I would fucking know, love. I did not... could not... SPEAK.

Saturday, June 07, 2008

Get this....

I'm in a net cafe and seated along my row are eight kids no older than 10 years old playing GTA. I feel like that tall guy in the movie Elf.

Not that it's a new feeling. I've been feeling more out of sorts lately. I've been given marching orders to rest my back for 5 days and thus had been lying down in bed for the last week. Imagine being on bed 24 hours a day for 4 days... you'd think it's some kind of heaven. It goddamn isn't!!! It just emphasized the feeling of disconnection to the world, and I'm still not over the rut.

That's why today, I went to DLSU to teach (2thousand bucks din yun) and spent the afternoon reading a book inside Powerbooks (no, I didn't buy it. What for? I've read it!). I have to get used to people again. My gosh.

I'm not a very good patient then, disobeying orders on the last day of recuperation. But I think I needed OUT to keep my sanity intact. Something I consider more precious than my spinal cord.

So there.

Friday, June 06, 2008

Diyan Masalanta

It was a slow day, the kind of day that’s meant for skipping work and going to the movies instead. I asked my sister to go with me but she’s the type who would rather grow warts on her face than cut her working hours. Being boyfriend-less and all my best friends working in Makati (Intramuros, where I work, is so many worlds away, they say), I ended up walking along Manila Bay a few hours before sunset.

Proverbial Manila Bay at sunset. I scoffed a little and looked around. The bayside was littered with lovers HHWW (holding hands while walking) and sitting on the wall embracing and kissing. There were a few families doing PG (parental guidance) things like riding bikes and flying kites. All in all, the bay looked like a scene straight from a postcard and there is no better day I can think of to come across her again.

She was weaving through the crowd, touching people on their foreheads with a banahaw leaf she kept brandishing like... like…oh, but what else is it but a magic wand? She was still wearing her raggedy clothes, which I think were once green but now looked like something a boy who ate too much wasabi puked out. She has become paler than I remembered. She looked diminished. But the way she moves --- her sensuous dance hasn’t changed at all. She moved with the same grace she had when she danced under the guava tree, the day Tia Elisa ran away. It was a sliding, gliding kind of dance that followed no earthly music. And everyone she approached, lovers most of them, shivered almost imperceptibly the moment she touched them with the banahaw. She smiled every time the lovers drew closer together, and frowned when they drew apart. All this she did inconspicuously --- invisible to all but me.

I tried to think of a way to talk to her, but my mind drew a complete blank on things to say. How do you speak to a goddess after all? Because I knew from the first time I saw her that she was one of the Old Ones, and my mortality felt like a barrier between us. I have heard that those who dared to speak and were found insolent were punished. This particular goddess I could not afford to offend for she is Diyan Masalanta, the patroness of people in love.

She has fascinated me ever since I saw her fifteen years ago, in my grandfather’s backyard, dancing her slow dance around my Tia Elisa and her lover, Manong Pancho. Theirs was a heated discussion, I could tell by the urgency of their movements and the abruptness of their speech. The same banahaw leaf touched my Tia Elisa’s bosom and the day ended with her running away with Manong. My grandfather was livid when he found out and I did not have the courage to tell him about the dancing woman. But she lived in my imagination, and I poured over old books of lore until I found a name I just felt was right --- Diyan. That was her. Diyan Masalanta because of the havoc she wreaks inside men’s hearts.

A small breath of air, much like the fluttering of a leaf, brought me back to the present. With growing terror, I realized Diyan was staring straight at me, in all her unearthly presence. And for the briefest second, I flinched. I realized I was genuinely scared she has touched me with her leaf.

Then she smiled.

“The girl who sees…” she said, her voice a soft, lilting sound.

I stood stock still, like a cat in caught in the headlights of 20-wheeler truck. “Please…” I managed to say.

“Please what?” she has stopped dancing. She just stepped closer towards me. Her head was tilted as if she was studying me; I felt like an amoeba under a microscope.

“Please don’t hurt me?” I replied, unsure if that’s what I wanted to say.

“Hurt you? I never hurt anyone.” She frowned. She took a step back. “When did I hurt anyone?”

“I didn’t mean it that way…” I stammered.

“People hurt themselves, Ibiang.” Her use of my pet name took me by surprise “They are given the greatest gift and they curse it. They are given joy and they stomp on it like some disgusting thing. Look at me. I am worse for wear. I toil and grow worn to shreds with each passing decade. My question, mortal, is this? Why do humans detest love?”

That was it. She looked tired, thus diminished. How many years, eras has she done this? And what she asked of me was not an easy question to answer at all. Why is it Love is deemed crueler, and a wreaker of havoc, above all?

“They do not detest it, goddess. They are terrified of it, at least I think I am.” I remembered how I felt when I thought she has touched me. “Love is worse than gold, because gold you can lose to thieves. But losing love is something entirely your responsibility. And I… I don’t think anyone who knew love and lost it could ever erase that shadow, that blight from their memory.”

“So is that why some would rather not have love start at all?” she asked pointedly.

“Some.” I answered, which sounded more like a confession. “Some.”

“Foolish mortal.” Her voice was sharp, but her eyes grew gentle, almost sad. “You will find me again. I have not touched you yet. Sooner or later, I touch everyone.”

Diyan Masalanta gave me one final look and turned away. She picked up the lost steps of her dance and tapped people with her leaf. The sunset has started and everyone the length of Manila Bay huddled closer to each other for warmth, for sharing the perfect moment with their loved ones.

“Feel that cool breeze…” I heard one girl say to her boyfriend as she burrowed deeper in his embrace.

I started walking back to Intramuros, knowing someday, the breeze will come for me.

Tuesday, June 03, 2008

Deja Vu

Here we go again...

My back is hurting like hell again. And it's that same feeling I had exactly a year ago. What's it with May and my fragile bones, eh? Deja Vu. I've been here before and don't like where it's leading.

Last year, it took ten therapy sessions and 2 weeks of missing work. This can't happen every year, no. Something must be causing the cycle. Anybody out there, reading this, if you have any idea let me know.

It goes like this:

1. Unbearable lower back pain.
2. Radiates to the knees downwards
3. Hurts to sit up and walk and bend
4. I pee and poop okay.

What is friggin' wrong with meeeee????

Monday, June 02, 2008

A Friend Called Me:

Exophilic... at least when it comes to my tastes for entertainment. I think he meant, I like foreign movies better as well as foreign tv shows. Hindi na daw ako naiiba sa mga tao na kinukutya ang sariling bayan at sinasamba ang kahit anong isteytsayd. THis was brought about by my raging against local TV (see Turd TV).

I said, I don't hate local entertainment, I just hate how it never tries to be more intelligent. How it never risks, and how it never evolves. So he challenged me to write a post about local TV shows I do like. Ha! Kala mo wala? Meron! I appreciate entertainment, only if it's entertaining.

Balitang K- I like the intelligent variety of topics. Sometimes it's about Pinaka... whatever (mayaman, bawal, makulay, etc..) and they find real people interest stories which both amuses and informs.

Pinaka (on QTV) - Again, amusing and entertaining and informative. It used to be emceed by Pia Guanio, but now it's this Rovilson guy who was Marc Nelson's partner in Amazing Race. Still good.

Chef to Go (read past post Yummy)
Balikbayan - So Drew Arellano can get really OA, but heck, he's a cute OA, kaya okay lang. His observations are also (sometimes) funny. But more than that, I like the idea of famous people going back to their roots. It promotes a kind of pride to be PINOY.

Imbestigador -- from learning about pagpag food to different other issues, it helps me get information on how to be more street smart in Manila.
ASAP (specifically, the Champions segment) - I only tune in long enough to hear Sarah Geronimo and the rest of the singing sensations sing their songs, yes. After that, no interest aready. It's just that, mas talented talaga ang singers ng ABS CBN kaysa GMA. (Have you seen that Pinoy Idol thing? Walang may dating sa dinamidami ng contestants, siguro kasi wala ring dating ang host and judges).

And lastly, I'm kind of enjoying the Philippine remake of My Girl. Yep, that one with Kim Chiu and Gerald Anderson. Because at least: it doesn't have illusions of being intelligent, and the two really does have chemistry together. OA si Kim minsan, and NR si Gerald madalas, but at the end of all things, they look cute together. And I am amused. Simple as that.