July 31, 2002

TODAY I shall put myself to a little test.

Am vowing to stay nice, pleasant, personable, sensitive and even perky (if I can manage that) until midnight. I shall not let trivial things bother me. And, more importantly, I shall only see the good in people.

If I fail, no pedicure for a week, no Friday's for a month, no new Friends CDs for two months.

Yikes.

Am determined to make good on my pact.


***

OFF to a good start. Our cook seems to have shelved her constant crankiness. She took the initiative and laid out the ingredients for my potato and mushroom spring rolls while I was asleep - she knew I wanted to cook a batch and bring it to the office. She even grated the cheese and sliced the mushrooms. Wow.


***

WATCHED Courage on AXN before getting ready for work.

They featured a rescue team who went to Turkey after an earthquake hit. They were able to save an eight-year-old boy days after.

Started sniffling when team members finally returned home to Virginia and were welcomed by their wives and children with huge placards and posters.

I like that show. An excellent break from police car chases, idiot criminals, ball-biting cats, overly pierced individuals and bickering neighbors.

***

"Sometimes success is measured in the look on someone's face. Sometimes success is measured in a handshake."

--- Evan Williams, rescue team member, Turkey operation


***

GOOD start has gone bad.

Was pouring buckets when I left the house. Had to drop by the bank. Need to dip into my computer fund to settle phone and internet bills, pay for my graduation pictures and mobile phone expenses.

Teller seemed happy to see me. Am starting to wonder - has everyone made the same pact?

Was still raining hard when we got out of the bank. Maid and I had to traipse over huge puddles and flooded sections of the street. As I was more concerned with the welfare of my bags, I walked under the rain while Melda hid under the umbrella with my things.

Quite difficult to stay pleasant and happy when you are soaking wet - when your carefully dried hair has turned into a dripping mess, when your clean slip-on sneakers are wet and splattered with mud, when your legs and feet that you had washed and scrubbed with L'Occitane's Honeysuckle Soap are all speckled with dirt. Even harder when countless taxis carrying smug dry individuals whizz by while you continue to be a sponge for the pouring rain.

Still, I bit back my annoyance and gave Melda a weak grin.

***

SO what if your existence is now dotted with almost violent sneezing? So what if your eyes are all watery? The cab is nice and dry. And the driver is nice and quiet - even if he does listen to Britney and Ace of Base.


***

ONE OF our writers, Mark, has greeted me happy birthday - three months before my actual date of birth.

That's going down in the books as the earliest greeting ever.

Hee.

***

THE WORLD cooperated - surprisingly.

People behaved nicely and so did not get pissed at anyone.

Great.

So...manicure and pedicure tomorrow, Friday's this weekend and new Friends VCDs next week?

Hee.

***

ACCORDING to random internet tests, I...

...was an outsider in high school
...am fire
...am purple shimmer Doc Marten's
...am 76% dateable
...will die on March 13, 2059



 
June 30, 2002

Bad...

MY MOTHER and I had a huge row about my tooth - in front of J. She kept insisting that I go for the tooth-pulling session. She was pushing me so hard that one would think she'd be crowned queen if I went for it.

She kept going on and on about how it wouldn't hurt because my gums would be pumped with Novocain (duh, it's the pumping part that would hurt), that she was my mother and she wouldn't ask me to do anything that would be painful for me (sorry if I'm no longer a believer but she said the same thing about previous tooth-yanking sessions and countless shots that make up the most horrifying moments of my childhood), that her experience was worse because she had to be operated on because there was a cyst near her wisdom tooth (wow, like knowing that would help). Her words did nothing but push me in the opposite direction.

Mom, it's just one fucking tooth. It's not a tumor. I will not die if it stays in my body. So my smile won't be perfect. So I won't get paid to endorse toothpaste. Big fucking deal. Just leave the goddamn tooth be.

Is it that easy to forget that you gave birth to a freak with a shockingly low threshold for pain (physical pain, I stress)?

While half of me is adamant, the other half is starting to wish I was born numb. Or at least brave when it comes to facing such ordeals. Must be so cool to be able to wake up and say: "Hey, doc, bring the syringe and the pliers on! Let's part-eh!" Am considering hypnosis to try and get rid of my fear of pain. Then again, it might work too well. Wouldn't want to start cutting myself up just for the fun of it.

Urggh. Hate this. Absolutely hate this. Feel like an axe is constantly hanging over my head. Must. Resist. Will not let them rob me of the wealth that is my teeth.

Someone please run me over and put an end to this misery.


***

Worse...

Got home from work at almost two a.m. to find my paternal grandmother awake. My grandma who always sleeps early. My grandma who only gets up in the middle of the night occasionally to get herself a glass of warm milk before going back to bed. My grandma who has gone through so much already that I'm amazed she's still standing. My grandma who is the hero of this lifetime.

She went to my room and said, "Have you seen this?" She held up documents stapled together with the word "SUMMONS" stamped in big bold black letters on the first page.

"No," I said truthfully.

Then she leafed through the document and showed me a page. And there it was, in black and white. My name. And my brother's. My mother decided to add me and my brother to the list of plaintiffs in her lawsuit against my father. This she did without asking us.

"I haven't seen that yet." That was all I could tell my grandma.

"It's fine if she wants to sue him. But I'm bothered by the fact that your names are here too," she said.

I am too, Lola. I am. I wanted to say so many things to her. Wanted to hug her and tell her I wanted to heal all the wounds this family has brought upon her. Wanted to tell her that no matter what my mother says and does, she will always be my hero. That I love her. And that nothing scares me more now than losing her. And that I'd let the crummiest dentist pull all my teeth out if it meant taking away all her pain.

I did no such thing.

All I could tell her repeatedly was that a) I haven't seen the document before b) I told my mother I didn't want to have anything to do with the lawsuit c) I did not wish to be a plaintiff in the case against my father.

Granted, my mother is suing my father for me and my brother. She wants to take what is "rightfully ours," wants to "protect our rights." But if the cost of that is further tearing this already tattered family apart, I refuse to take any part in it. If other people who shouldn't be dragged into this whole mess have to endure unnecessary pain, I am against it.

My father is an ass. He has left no imprints on me. I feel nothing towards him but indifference. He has done a lot of things in the past that he should pay for but I'm willing to let that go - so long as my grandma is spared of any pain.

My grandma returned to her room. Her eyes were swollen. I'm sure she's lying awake in bed right now, thinking, constantly thinking.

That just breaks my heart.

Completely.

I'm sorry, Lola. I want to take away your pain, want to take you away from the mess they have created - but I don't know how.


***

I NEED to talk to my brother.

***

FUCK. I should stop crying. Meeting with Mr. TV is in six hours. Can't show up with swollen eyes as might come off as unstable and emotional.

Am not sure about taking the job yet but can’t have them withdrawing offer because of misguided assumptions.


***

CAN HEAR faint strains of someone abusing their karaoke machine at 3 in the morning.

At least someone's happy enough to be singing.


***

MUST wear fuck-me boots tomorrow. Need the feeling of power, even imagined.

***

I THINK I need a shrink. Anyone know a good one?

***

TEMPORARY distraction/entertainment, thanks to sick internet users. These searches led to my blog just minutes apart.

Katakot.

cebu+amateur+girls

nickelodeon+sex+tits

normal+hymen+tear+photo

cebu+nude+pictures

intact+hymen+photos

sandra+bulok+photo

pictures+of+gay+men+having+ano+sex

Shoo.

***

WOKE up at 6 a.m. feeling horrible. Insides still unsettled about last night's issues, body screaming for more sleep. Tried to lie in for as long as I could before finally trudging around in a totally unenthusiastic attempt to get ready for meeting with TV guy. Felt like being a major grouch but knew I had to transform into Ms. Witty-and-Personable if I wanted things to go right.

Then my grandma asked, "Did you sleep at all? Your eyes look tired." Oh darn.

The only happy thought in my head was heading straight home after the meeting so I could try to sleep for a couple more hours before going to school.

Was right in the middle of deciding which pair of socks to wear when I received great news (well, great for me, not for him) - Mr. TV is sick and was asking me if it's okay if we postponed the meeting. Okay? Ha! It's effing great. Mr. TV's secretary will call me later this week to reschedule.

I would have jumped if I had the energy. So happy - feel like being nice to everyone.

Hope Mr. TV feels better soon. As for me, life is beautiful.

I'm going back to bed.

***

TIM gave me a purple jade "plant" from Amsterdam. Said that according to feng shui, it will enhance my creativity.

Coolness.

Wonder if they have something that can help reclaim my sanity.

***

GOT a weird call on my mobile while I was in class.

Girl: Is this Pam Pastor?
Me: Yes.
Girl: I'd like to confirm your attendance for the [TV show] taping on [I forget the date].
Me: I haven't heard about this. Did you send an invite?
Girl: Yes. Am confirming your attendance. (Can't believe she had the guts to sound exasperated.)
Me: But I haven't seen the invite. Did you send one?
Girl: Yes, she did.
Me: (Who is she?) Well, I didn't get it.
Girl: Oh, I'll tell her.

Who is "her"? I'll find out soon. They're faxing the invite to my house.

Strange.

***

LUNCH/breakfast/merienda was a very healthy combination of Lindt Pistache (my most favorite chocolate in the world) and indian mangoes dusted with salt and sugar.

Lucky I've got a cast iron stomach.

***

MY PHOTOGRAPHY professor has an outstanding flair for nonsense.

For a supposed accomplished artist, he talks too goddamn much.

Am amazed.

***

SO BORED with my three-hour long "Love and fucky fucky Commitment" class that I've been trying to write the complete lyrics of Front Row in my notebook.

Ang hirap.

***

I'm mad at myself for spending so much time with you and your jeckyl and hydeness/I'm glad I figuratively slapped you on the wrist/You laughed a wicked laugh and said, "Come here let me clip your wings"...

--- Alanis, Front Row

***

More weird searches.

naked+girl+students+in+cebu

fourteen+year+old+spank+tent

EMBARRASSING+DRUNK+CONFESSIONS

say+angel+in+tagalog

hymen+pictures

"cebu"+"college"+"students"+"porn"

pinoy+sex+confession

the+law+is+free+from+passion

how+could+my+daughter+turn+against+me+poetry



And the winner:


model+pose+smile+flirt+jack+off++watch+OR+masturbate+OR+stroke



Haha. Who says searches shouldn't be specific?

***

GOT the fax from TV show (this is on another channel - not the one trying to get me to work for them). Apparently, they want me to join their afternoon taping later this week so I can be a judge in one of their episodes.

I'm saying no.

One, I have my Features Writing class on the day of the taping - I've skipped it enough. Two, there were too many grammatical errors in the letter. Three, they evidently don't even read my section as they don't know my proper title. The title itself is no biggie for me - I don't even like having people calling me "boss" or "chief". It's the idea of working with people who would be irresponsible enough to put someone they don't know on their show that bothers me.

Ayoko nga.

***

HYPOCRISY is disappointing - and scary.

Because you could be doing it to me too.





July 29, 2002

LAST night, J had a mini-crisis. He felt like lashing out - which is so out of character. Told him not to do anything he will regret the next day.

"Ay, good advice. True."

Wow. So that's how it feels to be the levelheaded one.

***

J AND I usually operate the other way around*. I go insane. He talks sense into me. Then the cycle repeats itself.

(*Except when he goes through his sporadic bouts of existential angst.)

***

AM dodging my ortho as he's still after my wisdom tooth.

I am so dreading my next appointment with him that I've been having nightmares about it. Just a few days back, I dreamt that I was already strapped to the chair of horrors and novocaine was being pumped into my gums with a terrifyingly huge needle. My nightmare became worse when I realized that my orthodontist wasn't my orthodontist - it was my maternal grandma who was gleefully torturing me with the syringe.

Woke up sweating and remained terribly bothered for the next few hours.

Last night, my officemates tried to force me to watch Tom Hanks' painful tooth-pulling scene in Cast Away. I closed my eyes and cringed the entire time.

Ortho-from-straight-teeth-hell wants my wisdom tooth out before slapping on my braces again so I could attain "the perfect bite."

I don't want the perfect bite. I don't care if I go through the rest of my life with crooked teeth. Because when I die, people will not say, "Yeah, sayang, she had such perfect teeth." In the end, we will all become skulls, we will be reduced to icons of horror, whether we had straight teeth or not.

The level of perfection of one's bite is not directly proportional to the level of happiness of one's future. Prove that attaining orthodontic perfection will result in a happier life for me and I'd gladly let you pull all my teeth out.

Until then, there will only be one key to my ultimate level of happiness - when everyone leaves my teeth alone.


***

SUSIE Gilmore's Love Stuck was awful.

Right in the middle of the story, you will be asked to choose which guy Jess should go for. The choice is hard to make, as both are wankers. Sam, the flatmate is a dud and James, the boyfriend, is a major asshole. Choose Sam and you'd have to read the left-hand pages. Choose James and you'd have to read the right-hand pages. Then you spend the rest of the time reminding yourself not to read the opposite page. Of course, as you tend to relax while reading, there will be countless times when you'd be halfway through a wrong page before you realize you're reading Sam's story when you're supposed to be sticking with James. When you finally finish reading the first ending, you decide to read the second just to try and give Susie Gilmore one final chance. But the events in the first ending overlap with the second and you end up thinking, "But didn't that happen already?"

You finally close the book and Sam and James still remain wankers in your head. You are left with no story to tell. You are left not knowing if there was a story at all.

It's all very confusing. Just like this post.

Such a shame, really, because Susie Gilmore writes well. You know that if she tried putting more focus on the actual writing rather than conceptualizing, she can probably come out with a winner. Such a shame, because you left a gazillion other better books to gather dust on the shelves of Dymocks' Windsor House outlet. Such a shame, because you wasted money on garbage. Such a shame, because you wasted time on garbage.



 
July 28, 2002

I HAVE seen the light.

Now I know why I’ve been acting up the past days – I’m about to get my period.

That explains the crankiness, gloominess, touchiness, morbidity, extreme emotions, horrifyingly huge appetite, desire to be alone, laziness and sore breasts.

My worst case of PMS ever.

(If you’re one of those cocky males who think PMS is just an excuse women invented so we can act up every month, take a look at this. Now aren’t you glad to have a dick hanging between your legs?)


***

PROBLEM one solved. On to problem two. With my period due in a couple of days, I have to face the horrors of my dwindling extra-strength kick-ass Advil supply. I’d be a vegetable without my capsules.

Patay.

***

HORRIBLE mood currently at a standstill as the past two days have been busy.

Saturday. Went to class, then went around the university taking photographs for our Photo Journalism class. Knelt down on concrete, sat down on the muddy field, sprawled on a sidewalk while my friends laughed at my spread legs just to take photos from my desired angles. Went home with legs and skirt streaked with dirt – all for nothing. The shutter speed dial of the camera Ruthie and I were using got stuck. Film had to be rewound in one of the several attempts to fix it resulting in an hour or so wasted. Sigh. After the failed attempt at photography, went home, rushed to get ready for Kat-Kat’s birthday dinner. Fifi, Chri and I were late because they were waiting for me. (Sorry.) Enjoyed an ultra-long dinner at CPK and then spent three hours at Time Zone were we hogged the Percussion Freaks Machine. Got home almost three a.m., too tired to do anything but get ready for bed and sleep.

Sunday. Issue-planning session/pizza party (hehe) and then work.

Horrible mood will most probably remain suspended as the next two days will be busy as well.

Monday. Have to go to school early to take pictures (hope I don’t screw up this time) for Photo Journalism before dashing off to work to close this week’s issue.

Tuesday. Early meeting at the office of the TV station re job offer. Then have to go to class after.

Keeping busy is good as it takes mind off one's eccentricities. But will horrible mood attack again? We’ll find out on Wednesday.

***

HAD a difficult time deciding what to have for dinner. Couldn't choose between Don Henrico's and California Pizza Kitchen.

After long grueling minutes, I went for the healthier choice. Am now waiting for my BBQ Chicken Chopped Salad (minus the chicken, of course) and Tomato Basil Spaghettini from CPK. Yippee!


***

DINNER was excellent. Asked officemates to try what I ordered. Got great feedback except for one who happened to be allergic to vegetables. Now he’s all red and sneezing. Uh oh.

***

PEOPLE seem to have been extra-randy the past few days.

Searches that led people to my blog in the last forty-eight hours:

embarrass+socks+tits+toes+torture

nude+pam+in+high+heels

hymen+pictures+free

ballet+dancer+fetish

hymen+pictures

sex+nude+giles+4+to+14+years

joey+yung+newest+model+pictures

fur+burger+a+side+order+of+thighs+two+milkshakes+to+go


Giles, ikaw ha.


***

IN a world where thoughtlessly hurled insults are a constant, even an adjective as simple as "interesting" is enough to make one feel grand.

Thank you so much, Azuki.

***

AN EX texted tonight: "Someone asked me once if I still love you. I just raised my middle finger, shouted "BULLSHIT!" with all my might and pointed my finger at him. Then I simply walked away and whispered, "Pucha, sobra."

I do not know if he wrote this himself or if it's one of those random forwarded messages.

What did he want to achieve?

Should I have been impressed with the words that had been thrown together? Did he expect me to quickly reply so we could spend the night exchanging SMS about our screwed-up past? The thought did not even enter my mind. Instead I swallowed my disgust and deleted the message.

Note to exes: when we're done, we're done. I have not remained friends with any of you. I do not see myself getting back together with any of you. Digest that.

And while you're at it, try to refrain from doing anything that will further lower you in my hierarchy of clods.

You had me. You screwed up - big time. Move on to the next bitch.



 
July 27, 2002


SEEING that I am submerged in the ugly pit of self-loathing, am trying to force myself to list down things that I still like about me.

It's a short list.

I have Alanis' Hands Clean memorized.

My nails have started to grow again and I haven't broken any of them with my incessant clumsiness. My manicurist will be happy.

Haven't been giving our maid heavy laundry load as I've been living in tank tops and underwear the past two days.

I just realized I can still actually slow down and sit down doing nothing and be perfectly okay with that.

I was able to have two conversations with my maternal grandmother without pissing her or me off. Have discovered that the secret is to say yes to everything she says whether you want to or not.

I can still laugh at myself.

I can still laugh, period.

That's it.

This is pathetic.


***

TWO people in two separate conversations mentioned the word suicide yesterday. One was contemplating it and the other expressed no desire to own a gun as this might result in premature demise.

I may have gone through hell but I have never ever thought of killing myself. Pain, death and an empty afterlife scare me more than all the problems in the world put together could.

Would rather face tragedy after tragedy than take my own life.

But if there's one attractive thing about suicide, it's the suicide note. I have a few ideas. And since I'd never get to use them, I might as well put them down here.

Idea #1

"Everyone turns good when they're dead."

Ever notice how people turn into heroes the moment they die? When we see parents on TV mourning the death of their children, their lines are usually, "Bakit siya pa? Napakabait niyang bata." (Why him/her? He/she was such a good child.) You never hear them complaining about the time their kid got home three hours after curfew, you don't hear about the time she was caught making out in the living room with her weasel of a boyfriend, no mention of the time he smashed the car against the garage wall. I could be a saint when I die. Then again...

Idea #2

"I have moved on to better things."

Thinking that I'm an ass who thought I was too good for life in this world will probably help my loved ones deal with grief easier.

Idea #3

"BRB"

Hehe. I bet that would freak them out.

Idea #4

"I've been loved, I have loved, I've been hurt, I have hurt. I've had enough."

Pwede na.

Idea #5

"Dahil sinira niyo ulo ko." (Because you drove me crazy.)

Idea #6

"http://nocturnalangel2.blogspot.com"

This would explain everything.


***

"you can ask for space for yourself and only yourself and i'll grant it
you can ask for freedom as well or time to travel and you'll have it
you can ask to live by yourself or love someone else and i'll support it
you can ask for anything you want anything at all and i'll understand it
and there are no strings attached to it

you owe me nothing for giving the love that i give
you owe me nothing for caring the way that i have
i give yout hanks for receiving it's my privilege
and you owe me nothing in return"

- Alanis, you owe me nothing in return

What's this? The hymn to The Morissette School of Martyrdom, Submissiveness and Lunacy?

Even Alanis has disappointed me.

I must be losing it.


***

HOY Ruthie, what's that whole fucking deal about me liking Mandy Moore and Britney Spears?

Tangina. Yuck.

Yeah. I like them. Throw in that Jessica Simpson person too. I want them skinned and boiled and served to me with buttered corn and mushrooms.

Erm, sorry, J.

(J would like to make it clear that while he adores Britney and Mandy and makes my life hell by singing their songs while we're working in the office, he detests that Jessica clown. They're all the same to me.)




 
July 26, 2002

WAS talking to J on YM when he started freaking out.

"HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" His letters screamed at me.

"May "thing" dito!" (There's a "thing" here!)

Before I could even ask what thing he was talking about, he expounded, said that there seemed to be a rat making tons of noise inside a drawer in their kitchen.

"Nagwawala! Nag-iiiyak!" (It's going crazy! It's crying!)

I tried to convince him to open the drawer to check.

"Takot ako buksan. Eh pano kung kinakain siya ng ahas?" (I'm scared. What if it's being eaten by a snake?")

Evidently, J is not lacking in imagination.

He opened the drawer. The rat wasn't there. J continued to panic.

"Weird things are happening around me!"

"Aaaaahh!!!! Wag!!!!!!" (Aaaaaaah! Don't!)

"Okay, pag namatay ako tonight, kinain ako ng daga ha." (If I die tonight, I was eaten by a rat, okay?)

When I told him it could be a ghost, he was indignant. "Gaga! Hindi multo!!! Killer rat!!!" (It's not a ghost! It's a killer rat!)

Hahahaahahaha.

Then the rat stopped crying.

"Mukhang free na siya." (He probably got free.)

When I said that was good, he replied in the negative.

"Good eh kakainin nga ako!?!" (Good? But it's going to eat me?!)

Allow me to remind you that my best friend is 6 feet tall.

Hahahahahahahahahaha.

Can't remember the last time I laughed this hard.

Thanks so much, Lola J. I needed that.


***


Thanks, Crazy. May you find all the 'ish' you can handle and more. I still don't get it, though.


***

Good deed for the day

OUR cook's niece is joining her computer school's beauty pageant today. Perhaps in the desire to avoid embarrassment, the candidates had been given a set of six questions for the Q and A portion ahead of time so they could prepare.

Our usually cranky cook turned all nice on me - because she wanted to ask me to write down answers that her niece could memorize.

And so, given that my day had been on the extreme notch of unproductivity, I did.

Questions were of the usual "beauty or brains?"/"if you could be someone else, who would you be?"/"what should be changed about our country?" type.

One made me think, though. "If you were a computer, what kind would you be and why?" Had to think of desirable parallelisms a human being can have with a laptop. I don't think "easy to carry around, can be brought anywhere, expensive and convenient" would impress the judges very much.


***

WAS in a coma today.

Or something like that.

Felt like brain was on a blink. Woke up to discover that it was flooded out (actually, discover is too strong a word as our maid just gave me the news while I was half-asleep). Decided not to even try and make it to school for three reasons. One, where the hell will I clean myself up after attempting to wade through the murky waters? Two, if I do make it to school, how will I get back home? Three, a neighbor just died because of tetanus he caught from the flood. I will not even think of going down that road. Okay, let's make that four reasons, the fourth being that I did not feel like doing anything today except stay in bed and waste time.

I did nothing but watch Friends in my underwear. Didn't even care which season I was watching, I just popped one CD after another in the player. I cooked. Erased a weird message on my machine that I couldn't understand - it was mostly sobbing, gasping, sniffling noises. When Friends came on Star World, I still watched it, and when it ended, I turned on the player and popped in another CD. I slept on and off, waking up only to erase new text messages that I can't remember now. TV station guy called, probably to schedule meeting about their job offer for me, and I didn't even pick up - what kind of idiot am I? Composed a new tone for my incoming SMS. Had two phone conversations with my maternal grandma who did nothing but pray and remind me to read the bible. Had three or four phone conversations with my six-year-old cousin who did nothing but laugh in my ear and make my mobile phone ring with his new mobile (yes, my grandparents like spoiling their grandkids) while we were talking on our home phones. The sad thing is, I think a conversation with a little kid is the only kind I can handle now. Thought about an article I had been planning to write - but didn't actually do anything about it. The only writing I did was the script for my cook's niece - and I think it sucked. Didn't even go online. Did nothing but waste time.

A good day has passed and what do I have to show for it? A culinary masterpiece being grinded by my intestines, a college freshman most probably flubbing up words I've written, unanswered text messages, a distinct message alert tone, a conversation with a six-year-old, an article in my head and a headache that is the result of too much sleep.

If days like this would make up the rest of my life, they should have put me in a microwave when I was a baby.


***

IF THE unlikely happens (read: I get absolutely crazy for someone and decide to get married), these are the names I would want for my three sons: Marcus Sebastian, Mikael Fernando and Nicolai Andre.








July 25, 2002

THERE will always be questions. They vanish when we're happy. But during moments of uncertainty, they come out - to hit me - us - hard.

Highly likely that these questions will never be answered.

Ultimately, one all-important question remains: are we strong enough to move on and leave all these doubts behind?


***

FOUR nameless faceless chicks went over O's place to hang out and then ask him out - while we were talking.

I hated abhorred that.

I so abhorred that that I started pacing around my house, wringing my hands and gritting my teeth.

Then I just blew up.

Hate myself when I do that - when I succumb to my nagging jealousy. Makes me feel wretched, weak and out-of-control.

But just as well. Because today I felt what he has been feeling.

And instead of refuting the outpour of my anger, he patiently did what he could to pacify me.

Then, finally, I understood.

It took my own pain for me to realize that I had it all wrong. I am the wanker in this story.


***


WHEN you walk into someone's life, you alter that person's universe. You cause changes whether you like it or not.

You constantly meet new people - whether you like it or not. This has become such a norm in your life that you just barge in without thinking about the effects of your presence on someone else's existence.

Makes me wonder.

How many people's lives would be better if they never met me?


***

I NEED to think. Hard.

I'm going to cook.


***

"I THINK we can't go around measuring our goodness by what we don't do, by what we deny ourselves, what we resist and who we exclude. I think we've got to measure goodness by what we embrace, what we create, who we include."

- Chocolat


***

BRO and I watched Chocolat when he got home from school (after he wiped out what I had cooked). We salivated over the movie's chocolate overload until I just had to raid the kitchen and discovered we had enough supplies for two amazing sundaes.

Although he fell asleep right in the middle of the movie, was good to spend time with him.

I love my brother, I just don't know if he knows it.


***

WHAT do you do when you wake up and realize you don't like the person you've become?

I need a clean slate, now.




 
July 24, 2002

MAU SMSd to update me about our charity event.

“What else do we need?” I asked her.

The wise ass replied, “Money. Celebrities to auction off. I need antibiotics for my asthma and fever. You need a normal boyfriend. Aldwin needs a life. J needs Britney.”

Ha. Normal boyfriend? Right back at ya, Wengweng.


***

A FRIEND SMSd to catch up. Haven’t changed much, I said. Magulo pa rin. (Still a mess.)

He replied: “Magulo na naman?” (Again?)

Me: “Yep. The story of my life.”

Him: “What IS the story of your life?”

Yeah. What is the story of my life?


***

POWER was cut off in our office building but our computers didn’t even blink.

Astiiiiiiiiiig. (Coooooooooool.)

At least this place knows its priorities.

Wouldn’t want the power dying on me while I’m blogging. *snicker*


***

O was right about me transforming into a Diana freak.

Now I’ve got the people in my office listening to her while we work – my boss is even singing along.

Heh.

***

MORE searches of a few misguided net-savvy souls. Ha. My blog must have been a disappointment:

salbakuta+lyrics (punyeta)
smile+care+orthodontist+abandonment
vanessa+kay+mike+hard+lemonade
sitcom+apat+bed
pics+of+vin+diesel+in+shower
triggering+skinny+pictures

And the winner of this week’s sleaziest search contest:

sex+true+stories+confessions+puberty+masturbation

You win nothing. Except maybe this.

***

“You need someone who can handle you.”

“Like you?”

“No, you need someone you can handle too.”


***

“He’s not going to fit in your lifestyle.”

Ow.


***

I AM expected to churn out love stories every week. Have been doing so for over half a year now. Quite a task for someone who doesn’t have a proper love life to speak of.

Tragic irony.

***

A FRIEND commented that I'm no longer "brusko" (rough and callous). According to Mr. Let-Me-Pass-Judgment, I have turned into a lady.

Haha.

Ulol.


***

HAD three messages on my machine when I got home.

The first was my cousin inviting me to her birthday dinner on Saturday, the second some idiot chick who just said "hello?" and hung up and the third was wanker ex-friend E.

"Kamusta na? Batiin mo naman ako, birthday ko eh. Bakit hindi ka na nagpaparamdam? Galit ka ba talaga sa'ken?" (How are you? Greet me, it's my birthday. Why haven't I been hearing from you? Are you really mad at me?")

Yes, I knew it was his birthday. And yes, I really didn't want to greet him.

Oh god, I thought I've heard the last of you. Give it a rest, E.

Pucha, pare, ano ba. Birthday na birthday mo. Have some self-respect. Leave a little dignity behind. You might find use for it one day.

***

STRETCHING out in bed after hours of sitting in the office and in the car is one of life's greatest pleasures. Ang sarap. Makes me thankful I'm alive.





 
July 23, 2002

I AM not your emotional punching bag. Don't take your frustrations out on me. I can only handle so much.

I can only handle so much before I start getting angry, before I start hating you. You won't like me when I hate you. I can be your worst nightmare when I hate you.

***

JUST yesterday, I was complaining to J about how I've been spending too much time sleeping. Seems like my insomnia has been losing its grasp on me as I've been sleeping earlier and earlier. Okay, 2 a.m. is not exactly early for normal standards but for me it is.

Today, my insomnia kicked in with a vengeance. It's five a.m. and I'm still wide awake. I've been staring at my screen for hours and my eyes don't hurt at all. I have so much energy left that I feel like I can do cartwheels - if I knew how.

Makes me realize how things always seem to be working to contradict me.

Last December, during an office raffle, I whispered to the guy beside me, "I've never won a raffle in my life." I ended up winning an electric fan there and a washing machine a few days later.

Just three weeks ago, I was complaining about not spending enough time at home. I've spent the last three weekends stuck in my room because of the horrible weather.

I see a pattern here. Must work this to my advantage.

My relationships never work. Yeah, they never do.

I'm never going to get a Ford F150 - not a red one.

I'm won't make my first million before I'm 25.

I won't get to open my own restaurant.

I don't think I'll be getting my new PC next month.

I probably won't be going back to India. Won't stay there for about three months convincing people to tell me their stories.

There you go. Come on, fate, give my future a nudge in the other direction. Contradict me. Contradict me allllllll you want.

***

WAS talking to my grandma and fidgeting when I felt pain on my left abdomen. Checked myself in the mirror and saw an ugly purple bruise just above the garter of my undies. Freaked out - mind started whirring, thinking of which terminal illnesses have ugly bruises that appear out of nowhere in their list of symptoms. Then I remembered what really happened.

Yesterday, I went to work in a cab, got off and closed the door on myself. Don't ask how I did it, I don't know either. It just happened.

Us clumsy oafs have amazing talents.

***

SPENT an hour or so making more of my little fried dimsum delights. Experimented a bit, used a different dimsum wrapper. Results were excellent.

Grandma brought a few to her room, I sent over a small plateful to my aunt who lives next door and I'm bringing the rest of the lot to school so my friends can try them.

My, my, aren't I little miss Martha Stewart today?

Then again, Martha doesn't sing along to Alanis' Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie CD while cooking, does she?

***

HATED the paper I had to submit in my Love and Commitment class. We were asked to research various quotes about marriage and then "reflect" about them. I hate that word. "Reflect" sounds so pretentious. It's not like any of us actually sat in front of scenic windows or took a long stroll to mull over the passages we found. I was online, watching BBC and listening to Alanis all at the same time while I spewed out crap reactions to biblical passages, Shakespeare, old nursery rhymes and excerpts from other classics. Ended up with four pages of embarrassing ass-kissing prose.

Had sentences like:

"Marriage is not only a natural step but a gift from our Creator."

"There is so much more to marriage than choosing the right person you want to spend the rest of your life with."

"While "torments" exist, the fulfillment is worth all the sacrifice."

"I detest this quote as it expresses double standards and misogynistic undertones."

And my favorite (as this is my stupidest reaction), on Ralph Waldo Emerson's "Is not marriage an open question, when it is alleged, from the beginning of the world, that such as one in the institution wish to get out, and such as are out wish to get in?": "It's like hair. Those born curly want straight hair. Those born with straight hair want theirs curly."

Haha. Barf. I feel like such a fraud.

Paper should be stamped with big bold red letters: BULLSHIT.

***

DESPITE being loud, annoying, overly eager and a gossip hound, professor is actually nice.

I should cut her some slack.

Maybe.

***

OH wow. Now professor is discussing having sex during pregnancy.

As far as I know, there are no fertilized eggs in this classroom. Repeat after me. Professor. Doctor. Professor. Doctor. There is a difference. Let our gynecologists do their work - when the time comes.

Now I do not have qualms about sex talk. But professor moved from mildly nauseating to downright sick.

"Eh abstain abstain ka dati ngayon buntis ka naman. Pyesta na lang! Go go go!" (You were abstaining before and now you're pregnant. Celebrate! Go go go!")

On having sex while surfing the crimson wave: "Eh di maglagay ng manila paper!" (Do it on top of manila paper.)

Seeing her gleeful face made things worse.

Urgh. Get me out of here.

And I take back what I said about being nice to her.


***

LEIDY (can't link her as she is the only member of our group who refuses to have a blog) came up with the brilliant idea of passing around a chart with all our names on it. Each person had to fill up the boxes of other people with the career path she/he thinks that person will least likely take.

These are the things I will never be, according to my friends:

"Marriage: A Commitment" teacher
Oprah-like goody-two-shoes TV host
sweepstakes vendor
marriage counselor
religion teacher
librarian
plain housewife

Now you know who the black sheep in our group is.


***

PATRICIA and I were sitting inside a jeepney at a loading area near the university when we heard what sounded like a scuffle before one of the passengers started screaming. "Yung phone ko! Yung phone ko! Magagalit daddy ko!" (My phone! My phone! My dad will get mad!)

The boy was a victim of one the countless mobile phone snatchers in this city. Guy wouldn't stop screaming. And, although we felt sorry for him, most of the passengers kept mum, knowing that he'll probably never see his phone again and that in a few hours, it will be in the hands of some gullible bargain-hunter.

Or so we thought.

"Manang, please, pwede pa ba natin makuha? Please? Please? Magagalit daddy ko eh." He kept pleading for the woman seated beside the driver to help him get his phone back. Strange, I thought. This guy must be losing it.

But apparently, the woman whom they called Rose, knew the snatcher - or the ring he's working for. Soon, two men approached the jeepney and started asking the boy questions.

"Anong phone number mo?" (What's your phone number?)

"Ano bang model yun?" (What was the mobile phone model?)

When the jeep started moving, the two sleazy characters hung on and kept talking to the boy. They were even cracking jokes and told the boy condescendingly, "Matuto ka na ha. Wala ka sa probinsya. Maynila to. Alam mo naman sa Maynila, maraming masasamang elemento." (Learn your lesson. You're not in the province. This is in Manila. There are a lot of bad elements in Manila.)

As the jeep sped on, the woman in front hollered at the people on the side streets. "Hoy, sabihin niyo kay [snatcher - name wasn't clear] kakilala ko yung ninakawan niya!" (Tell [the snatcher] that I know the person he stole from!)

The two sleazoids told the boy that he could get his mobile phone the next morning but the boy refused. He wanted it back tonight.

The two said, mockingly, "Eh hindi naman kami pulis!" (We're not policemen!)

The two men, the boy and the woman beside the driver got off in front of a convenience store where they would be meeting the snatcher to try and get the phone back.

Sleazoid in yellow said: "Gusto mo saksakin natin sa kamay yun?" (Do you want us to stab his hand?)

Ha. Like he would actually do that - he evidently works with that snatcher.

The driver started talking. Apparently, that area is teeming with mobile phone snatchers and hold-uppers. These people work in gangs.

My heart was pounding as I walked home. It is situations like this that make you realize how vulnerable you are in a world full of guiltless monsters.

Just got home. I've been trying to call the hotline of a television show that specializes in exposing gangs, various modus operandi and other forms of criminality. I'd like to report what I saw. The line just keeps ringing and ringing but I'm not going to stop until I get through.

You know how screwed up your country's system is when trouble hits and you feel safer running to the media instead of the police.








July 22, 2002

DIANA Krall's concert was really good - that woman has an amazing voice. Show was a bit short though, only an hour and a half.

Wasn't able to sit beside my cousins. We bought the last three tickets and had no choice. Ended up sandwiched by an amiable fellow called Matt, who was there with his parents, and a woman wearing horrid grey stockings.

The woman ignored me and chatted with her female companion while waiting for the show to start. Matt progressed from amiable to pest in minutes.

Can’t stand too-perky people.

He turned to me and said, "Are you alone?"

"No, my cousins are there," I said, flicking my head in their direction.

"I'm here with my parents."

Small talk about the show being postponed and then sold out, blah, blah, blah.

"I'm a big fan," he said excitedly.

"Oh. I just like music," I deadpanned.

"I even brought my CD. I really hope I can get her autograph."

"Oh." Not from up here, you won't.

Silence.

Then I heard his mother whisper to him, "Kausapin mo." (Talk to her.)

Then him, "She likes music daw."

Did these people not realize that I was just an inch from them? That my ears actually work, otherwise I wouldn't be there?

Again, Matt turned to me and said, "Did you know that Diana has a song in the soundtrack of Clint Eastwood's movie?"

"No. What movie?"

"True Crime."

"What song?"

He then pulled out the CD and showed it to me and read the song titles out loud. Then he proclaimed that "it came out in 1999, the same year the movie came out!" as though he was announcing that he had discovered a painless way to wax.

"Oh."

Silence.

Started praying that he wouldn't talk while Diana was singing, otherwise I'd have to give in to my urge to pound him with something heavy, like my bag.

The lights were dimmed.

He leaned over and whispered loudly, "Magsisimula na!" (It's starting)

I know, I'm not blind.

He was silent when Diana started singing. But when the third song came on, he whispered loudly again, "The Look of Love!!"

Okay already, Matt, I'm not deaf.

He was silent again - until Diana and her band made their first exit.

People started shouting, "More! More!"

He hissed again, "Hindi pa yan tapos! Meron pa!" (It's not yet over! She'll sing again!)

I know, Matt, I'm not stupid.

After the encore, I left quickly to find my cousins, leaving that Matt person to wonder how he’ll get Diana Krall’s autograph.

Matt, in case you get to meet her, you might want to lessen the talk. Just a tip, you know.


***

MY current favorite song:

"Now you say you love me
Well just to prove you do
Come on and cry me a river
Cry me a river
I cried a river over you."

Blame Barbra and Diana.

***

FRIEND's Phoebe to her too-perky boyfriend: "You are like Santa Claus on Prozac at Disneyland getting laid!"

***

THE OTHER night I YMd J, telling him how I’ve figured out the kind of guy I ought to be with.

His reply shut me up. “Find someone who can be faithful first.”

Oh, yeah. Back to zero, then.


***

MY BOSS is in Italy now but left a note about my article for her section. “This doesn’t sound like you,” she said, complaining that my interview reads like a Q and A. “Give us an insight into what she’s like.”

Ouch. This is the first time I’ve been asked to revise an article.

Ma’am, the reason I chose to just quote her instead of putting down what I really think of her is because I hate her. I do. I really do. I’ve hated her from the first time I saw her on TV and the interview did not change that. She likes hearing herself speak – too much. Yes she is witty but she has a strong tendency to talk before she thinks. There was a time she pissed the hell out of me and other people in a teen pageant when she acted up about having to share dressing rooms with us (she was performing in the intermission, I was a judge), causing one of the makeup artists to sneer, "Bakit, sikat na ba yan?" (Has she made it big?) She was nice during the interview, even mentioned that we should see each other some other time because we were both in a rush, but that hasn’t changed my mind. I don’t care if I never get to see her ever again. I don’t like her. Probably never will.

Instead of bashing her, I chose to be nice and just quote her. Otherwise, I’d be the bitch in this story. Otherwise, I might have to see her again – when her family sues me for libel, that is.

***

SO you’ve decided to disappear. You’ve decided to quit. You’ve decided it’s not worth the pain.

We could have been great together. Now we’ll never know.

That’s what kills me.





 
July 21, 2002


FUCKING showers keep ruining my plans.

This is the third weekend in a row that I've been stuck at home because of the goddamn flood.

I missed yesterday's student elections and wasn't able to vote for Patwee, Kelly and this other girl who went to my high school (I liked her, she broke into song right in the middle of her campaign speech - I admire a girl with courage). And fuck, I missed seeing the power-hungry loser break the glass protecting our bulletin board after Ruthie supposedly pissed him off. (Woohoo! Astiiig! Ruth, I owe you a trip to our favorite coffee place.)

Had planned to hang out with J after class. Instead got stuck at home watching bad television (more on that later) in my underwear.

Today is supposed to be a packed, productive day for me. Have three priorities - facilitate meeting/issue-planning session, full day at work and Diana Krall's show with Chri and Fi. But looks like the horrible weather has a thing against productivity. I have cancelled today's issue-planning session because the rain hasn't stopped. I don't even know if I can make it to work. And Diana Krall seems like a faraway dream.

Fuck this.

***

HAVE discovered how to make fake chicken skin.

Excellent.

***

My Girl:"You can be in a room with a hundred men and not like any of them. Or you can be in a room with just one man and he's exactly the one you want."


***

HARDLY ever watch local television but decided to do so yesterday on patriotic impulse.

Hated - abhorred, even - what I saw.

Some reasons I am thankful for cable TV and VCDs:

1] Third question in Who Wants To Be A Millionaire tonight:

The Annoying Christopher: "Alin sa sumusunod ang sikat na laruan?" (Which of the following is a popular toy?)

a] teddy bear
b] steady bear
c] heady bear
d] ready bear

My god. I know, the first few questions have to be easy - but do they have to be that stupid?

2] Regine Velasquez in Star for a Night: "Here is our judges..."

3] Bituin Escalante, about to announce the winner of Star for a Night: "We had a difficult time choosing the winner, but we chose the one who deserves it..." Umm, duh?

4] Heart Evangelista on MYX. Perky, upbeat, happy Heart. I'd like to wipe that pa-cute smile off her face.

5] Supposedly scary show about a ring that turns wearer's hand all ugly and hairy and makes it do bad things. Had fright potential if only the hand didn't look like those cheap plastic costumes/props you buy last-minute from National Bookstore on Halloween.

6] Salbakuta on some show on channel 7.

7] Wow Mali's Hundred Islands special. Episode title highly misleading as none of the pranks actually take place on any island. The islands were just used as background to Joey De Leon's so-sickeningly-cheesy-you'll-cringe spiels.

8] Ugly GRO-types all over the place. Are almost-naked women requisite to good ratings in this generation? Fuck that.

9] Unbelievable contest in a noontime show: Scantily clad women were slathered with sticky liquid before being asked to roll on floor littered with paper. Woman who gets the highest number of pieces of paper stuck to her body wins.

Wow. Brilliant. I'm actually stumped. I couldn't pinpoint just how pathetic that is.

Bring this out on the streets. Turn it into a cleanliness campaign. Have these chicks roll around to pick real trash off our filthy cities and I'd gladly watch.

***

NOTHING to eat at the house - nothing without meat, at least. Woke up to find that the maid had prepared egg mayo spread for me. But my stomach lurched at the smell of the mayonnaise.

Decided to cook my own lunch/merienda. Had to make do with whatever I could find in the fridge as it is still flooded and our cook hasn't gone shopping for supplies yet. Didn't find much - so I added whatever I could, basically making up the recipe as I went along.

I cubed half a potato and cooked it in oil, crushed two cloves of garlic and added that to the pan. I then added grated cheese and mushrooms that had been sauteed in garlic and butter. Poured in about a tablespoon of milk and blended the ingredients with short, light strokes as not to end up with mashed potatoes. When the filling was almost ready, I sprinkled it with dried basil leaves for added flavor.

I let the mixture rest for a while before putting tiny dollops on dimsum wrappers and adding a bit of grated cheese on top before folding them into triangles.

I hated the smell of the wrappers so I just did four before quitting. I fried the triangles until they were golden brown and crispy.

Grandma and I tasted them. They were surprisingly good (even grandma agreed - and she's very particular) - so good that I decided to finish cooking the rest.

Then I enjoyed them while watching Chocolat.


***

ABOUT to get ready for Diana Krall's show. Still flooded out, my cousins and I don't even know how we're getting out.

I've got half a mind to just forget watching but I know they're set on it. Besides, a night of good jazz should do wonders for my sanity.





 
July 20, 2002

WATCHED the Friends episode where Joey finally professes his feelings for Rachel last night, while getting my nails done.

Joey is soooo sweet. His eyes just kill me. Ended up sniffling, tears messing up my newly painted nails.

I think all the crying weirded my manicurist out.

***

[revised copy - anti-confusion]

RAN into Melissa yesterday. She was an old college friend from my original batch - the girl I met during my entrance exam, the girl I enrolled with, the girl who stuck by me even when first psycho ex-boyfriend started spreading rumors about me in school and successfully turned two of my three closest friends against me.

I had the craziest adventures in Malate with Melissa - one involving a group of guys who followed us from Makati to Malate, from bar to bar and another that had us running away from a group of college boys who used a brawl outside Nakpil to chat us up.

Melissa and I would go home at 4 a.m. and fall asleep on my single bed, barely clothed and exhausted.

That was two years ago.

And so yesterday, we crammed almost two years of silence into two breathless minutes of non-stop chatter. Then, after a tight but brief hug and an "I miss you," she was gone.

She's changed a lot, I can see. She's been with her first boyfriend for quite a while now. Quite a jump from the girl who used to get all choked up whenever crush-of-the-moment would go near her. She's in law school now, in heavy pursuit of her dreams.

Seeing her yesterday made me realize how much I miss her.


***

THANK you, RV.

***

"IVE got a lot of it..."

This you said about time. Maybe so, but none for me.

***

NEVER had to explain myself before. Never really had to subject my past to scrutiny. It was always - if you can't accept who I am, screw you, I don't need you.

This is all new to me.

It scares me. How much I need your approval, how I wait for you to pass judgment, how my happiness can rely so heavily on whether you can accept the person I've become or not.

***

ANO na naman to:

girl+flatter

dmv+and+fainting

pandesal+in+a+bread+machine

salbakuta+stupid+love+lyrics

And the winner of today's weirdest search promo:

Persian+girl+kitty+boobs+asia+asian+gay

Save me.

***

SPEAKING of Salbakuta, karma moves way fast.

Yesterday, during the first general assembly of our university's Journalism Society, my classmates officiated games for the younger students. They decided to choose people who would pick out dares from folded slips of paper and actually do them.

My lovely lovely friends decided it would be a blast to volunteer me to make a fool of myself in front of the sophomores and juniors.

My first dare - "Eat a hotdog in ten seconds." No can do, I'm vegetarian.

My second dare - "Rap the Salbakuta song." I don't know which horrified me more - the fact that they wanted me to rap that horrid little ditty or the fact that they referred to that crap as a song.

"I'm sorry, I don't know the song."

Then they said they'd get someone to teach me the "song" [excuse the abuse of the word].

"Yeah, like anyone would actually admit that they know the song."

Thank god we ran out of time before they actually found someone willing to ruin his reputation.

My dares were okay - at least I didn't have to do them. Robby had to kiss a guy.

***

"YOU'RE a phoenix. You rise from your ashes as someone stronger and better."

***

DON'T shut me out because of invalid perceptions.

And if you decide to stay, don't do it to satisfy my selfish reasons.

You owe enough to yourself to prove you were not wrong in loving me.



 
July 19, 2002

CRAZY and I were talking about pain. He said I didn't strike him as the type who gets hurt easily.

Wrong. I get hurt as easily as the next girl - maybe even more so.

The difference between me and "the next girl" is simple. While she chooses to just bawl her eyes out, pity herself and tell all her friends about the jerk who wronged her, I make the people who hurt me pay - big time.

They're still paying now - in one way or another.

***

STILL reading Susie Gilmor's Love Stuck.

In one scene, Jess describes how her flatmate Sophie taught her how to clean out her closet by dividing all her clothes into two piles - one pile for the things she'll keep, the other for the clothes she'll give to the needy.

Then Jess writes this in a letter to a friend:

"I loved doing this, imagining semi-circles of little African and Filipino kids all wearing my cast-offs, holding hands and singing 'We Are The World' with Bob Geldof."

I didn't appreciate that.

Perhaps that Susie girl just plucked out a name of a country (or its people) out of her head and used it in her story just to make a point. Perhaps she has never set foot in said country. Perhaps she has no ample knowledge of said country apart from what could be gathered from occasionally flipping through CNN on her way to the lifestyle network or home shopping channel but still took the liberty of using its name just to stress a point. Perhaps she never thought that some snooty kid from said country would come across what had been brazenly put down on paper. Perhaps she didn't think the snooty kid will get pissed about it.

***

I DO not normally appreciate forwarded SMS. But this one’s funny.

“Life with men is like a deck of cards. You need a heart to love them, a diamond to marry them, a club to beat them and a spade to bury the bodies.”

Funnier is the fact that a guy sent me that.

***

MEN in Black II: “We are who we are even if we sometimes forget.”







July 18, 2002

THERE used to be a time when a hundred pesos seemed huge to you. You cannot remember when, but you're sure there was a time. Then came the time when five hundred pesos was enough to keep you happy in the mall the entire day. Then you reach a point where having just two thousand pesos in your wallet makes you uneasy. And ten thousand seems less than it really is.

Urgh. I want to go back to my lollipop-sucking, eyes-wide-with-innocence, mom-gave-me-fifty-I'm-rich days.

***

YOUR laughter is endorphine to this weary soul.


***


YOU know you've started to grow up when "covering all bases" no longer means getting streaked with mud and facing the possibilities of a knee scrape or two.

***

HAD to rush to the office because I was late for a meeting [Just realized that if I suddenly dropped dead and people started talking about me, no one would ever use the word "punctual" and my name in the same sentence].

Got stuck in a cab from hell. Cockroach hell, to be exact.

Halfway through the trip, I noticed a bug crawling around the floor of the cab. Bit my lip to stifle noises of disgust that wanted to come out. Leaned over to see where it went. Big mistake. Saw a monster of a cockroach that had been squashed to death. By the degree of crustiness, I'd say it had been dead for weeks. Wanted to start screaming. Actually considered jumping out but since I was already more than an hour late, had no choice but to deal with it. More bugs started to come out. I counted around five of the little guys. Wanted to faint but losing consciousness was not a good idea since there was the huge possibility of being attacked by the roaches the moment I stopped moving. Spent the rest of the trip shuddering and flicking away millions of invisible bugs that seemed to be crawling all over my body.

Now I know how it feels like to be in a B-movie. Little cab episode could have been called "Roaches" or "Attack of the Killer Bugs".

Note to self: buy small canister of insecticide and bring everywhere.

***

MEETING turned out to be a huge brainstorming session for the free tabloid's latest ad campaign.

Was a lot of fun - throwing around taglines and concepts. I think we came up with pretty hot stuff.

Looking forward to the next session.

I can totally get into that.


***


LAST night, my keyboard started going even crazier on me. Was trying to talk with J on Yahoo when it just stopped working completely. The cable wasn't the problem as it was properly hooked up. Slammed keyboard around. It started working again - but the backspace, enter and space buttons didn't work. Was so pissed I disconnected.

Will have that problem no more.

Ladies and gentlemen, say hello to my gorgeous new keyboard Harry. And while you're at it, give a tiny shout-out to his friend Gwen, my new mouse that's behaving perfectly.

***

OKAY, I know I said no shopping. But they were way essential. So was the new Friends CD. Erm. Right, J?

***

I HELD back. I didn't buy that new modem, the lovely school shoes we saw, the nice beige slip-ons, the beige belt similar to the netty black thing I got in Hong Kong, etc. I so held back that I didn't even really look around as not to tempt myself further.

Congratulations, me.

***

WATCHED Men In Black II with J. Didn't really like the story. Liked the ending, though - that bit about the lockers. [Okay, spoiler alert - don't read on if you haven't seen the movie yet] Reminds me of this creepy movie I saw as a kid. Members of an entire family were just living their lives oblivious to the fact that they were actually just dolls in a huge dollhouse controlled by a huge kid.

Freaky.

For a long time after watching that movie, I kept imagining that. What if I was just a toy? What if my life and my entire world is just a game for someone?

Maybe so.

If it is, whoever's playing with me is pretty screwed up. I can think of way nicer storylines.

***

Mau texted me while I was out with J.

"Do you still believe in fairytale endings?"

Replied in the cab on my way home.

"For other people but not for me."

***

WE used to rely on so many things to make us work. My telephone company, yours, my ISP, yours, my body clock, yours, the postal service, our PCs.

My home phone is working perfectly, my mobile too. My ISP's reliable enough, the postal service has been bringing me my mail, my body clock is fine, my PC's okay. They're ready for heavy "relying on".

But what good is all that when I can't rely on you?



 
July 17, 2002

WHEN I dropped by the cashier's office to see if J had checks, they asked me a million-dollar (okay, I wish) question: “Did you get your bonus?”

“No,” I said, enumerating the checks I received the previous day.

“Tell [EIC’s assistant] because she was asking.”

Went up and was told that I shall be receiving a bonus very soon. This was the “omnibus bonus” mentioned in EIC’s memo to my boss a couple of months back about my performance.

Ooh. Bonus.

Add that to “tons of checks” and I’m rich. Err, almost.

Still no shopping, though.

I want to save up for a new computer.


***

“I LIKE your outfit today,” Ru said.

“You look good ha,” EIC’s assistant told me.

“Gumaganda ka (You look better),” some people in the presscon I attended earlier said.

I don’t get it. I haven’t been doing anything. If you ask me, I look completely the same. Hmm. Maybe emotional turmoil agrees with me.

Man oh man, just how ugly was I before?

***

Ang kulit nito.



 
July 16, 2002

AFTER being stuck at home for two days because of the flood, having to go to the office yesterday seemed almost liberating. And after living in tank tops and undies for over forty-eight hours, it was no big surprise that I felt like dressing up.

Went to work wearing a black top, a blue/grey/black plaid knee-length skirt and my favorite calf-hugging black fuck-me witch boots.

Apparently, ensemble has a slimming effect as I was showered with comments about my supposed weight loss the entire day. Weird.

A smattering:

J: "In fairness ha, ang payat mo. Ikot nga, ikot."

My boss: "Wow, you're really losing weight ha."

And the winner, from one of our typesetters: "Nagpa-lipo ka ba?"

Punyeta naman, nagpalda lang eh.


***

"i have as much rage as you have
i have as much pain as you do
i've lived as much hell as you have
and i've kept mine bubbling under for you"

--- alanis, sympathetic character


***

WHEN I start thinking of your time zone as mine, I know I'm in trouble.

But this is trouble I wouldn't mind getting into.

You drive me nuts, O, and you know it.

What we are is an emotional roller coaster - and I'm hanging on for dear life, if only to be with you.


***

WAS enjoying the au gratin that grandma made for me and Susie Gilmour’s Love Stuck when I received a text message from one of our cashiers in the office.

“U hav tons of checks here.”

Wow, “tons of checks.” Not just the usual, “u have check na” but “tons of checks.”

Tons. Of. Checks. Repeated the phrase over and over in my head, letting the words roll in my mind’s tongue, savoring every syllable.

Then again, “tons of checks” is relative. I did mental calculations. Minus pending expenses – my phone bills, internet bill, ticket to Diana Krall’s show, groceries for both houses – would “tons of checks” still be “tons of checks”?

***

HAVE concluded that yesterday’s hoopla about my supposed weight loss had nothing to do with skirt, as I dropped by the office in black low-riders and got the same kind of attention.

Erm, maybe it’s the boots?

“Siguro may boyfriend ka ngayon no?” (“You have a boyfriend now, don’t you?”) One of our layout artists said.

Ha.

If, indeed, I am losing weight as they have all been saying, it wouldn’t be because of any guy.

A fluke of nature, perhaps.

An accident, even.

But not because I want to look good for any guy.


***

“TONS of checks” = 4. Total amount, not bad really. Total amount minus expenses that have piled up, still okay. Total amount left in the hands of a shopaholic, disaster.

No. No shopping. No nothing.

Must restrain myself.

***

THE PROBLEM with the irregular arrival of my checks is that they leave me wanting for so long that the moment I get my hands on them, I splurge, just to feel that they’ve really arrived.

Then I’d spend the next weeks scaling the borders of poverty before the entire cycle begins again.

***

AM IN the office again. Rushed back here after my interview.

Girl turned out to be very nice – smart too. Then again, she has to be nice to me.

Better stop slacking. Just found out I need to submit this story tomorrow.


***


MORE weird searches:

Salbakuta - Who in their right minds would waste internet access/keyboard strokes/ electricity to search for that.. that.. err, group? Not anyone I’d want visiting my blog, that’s for sure.

Vin+Diesel+nude and Vin+Diesel+shower+pics+naked - If I had photos of Vin Diesel butt-naked, do you actually think I’d post them here? Hell no. I’d keep them to myself.

Maritess+vs.+the+justice+league - Oy, hijo, dito o ----> ...

sms+funny+test+massage - typo, typo, typo

thirteen+year+old+girl+pics+in+swimsuits - This is not a site for pedophiles. Go to ilikethemyoung.com or iamapervertedfreak.net.

Naman naman naman.

Salamat sa mga talagang nag-search sa "nocturnalangel". Sana lumigaya ang buhay niyo.




 
July 15, 2002

Perceptions

"You're little and dainty physically but my god, an amazon of a woman."

"You enjoy cutting them off at the knees and leaving them to walk on bloody stumps."

".... I thought you were just going to bite my head off..."

"Nung una kitang nakita nung meeting sa office, masungit ka. Nagmamaganda. Kupal... yun, tama! Yun yung perfect word!" Gee, thanks, J.

Kupal. Amazon woman. Heartless. Snappish.

All these in a span of two days.

Ouch.


***

AMAZING maturity from an 18-year-old. "Until you figure things out, let me be your friend. I'll forget about my feelings for the meantime. That ought to make things clearer. You deserve everything. That's what loving is all about. Promise me one thing, though, never let anyone hurt you. Not even him. Don't let it happen again or I'll break every bone in his entire body. Now let me say I love you for the last time."

Wow. Lucky girl.


***

THANKS to J, was able to catch the last half of a very interesting feature on National Geographic yesterday. It was a documentary that showed comparisons between the mating rituals of animals and humans.

Was interesting to see how a female bluebird has to check out the pad (read: nest) of a male bluebird before she mates with him. Even more interesting was the fact that this little flirty bluebird got it on with a hotter bluebird just a second after her original guy flew off. She ended up having babies with two different fathers.

Was strange to see a female insect that had the power to expel sperm if she deemed her mate unfit to father her offsprings. (I'm sure a lot of women will appreciate that gift.)

The show was funny, interesting and in some ways, disturbing.

The last few lines of the VO hit me.

"In courtship, the male has to make sure that the female chooses him over her other suitors. The female has to make the best choice she can - [dramatic pause] - her legacy depends on it."

Whoa. Can't stand the pressure.


***

I DON'T want to fight anymore.

***


HIS sarcasm is killing me. The distance between us is killing me. Knowing I don't have the power to take his pain away is killing me. The fact that my love doesn't seem to be enough is killing me.

Not knowing whether I should stay or go is killing me.

If this is my contrapasso, divine retribution, the world's way of making me pay for previous mistakes - then congratulations, it's working like a charm.




 
July 14, 2002

I HATE sarcasm when it's used to inflict pain.

***

O and I had a huge row.

And when he disappeared from my screen, I did the same and flung myself face down on the bed. But there are times when sobbing into your pillow just isn't good enough. I walked around the house, wringing my hands, violently wiping my tears away.

Half of me said I should just leave him alone. That I explained what I should have and just leave things at that. If he comes back, well and good. If he doesn't, then maybe that's how things are meant to be. But the other half - the more persistent half - wanted to talk to him.

So I tried.

I called. Five rings and the machine picked up. His mom's cheerful voice went on, asking me to leave a message. I didn't. I put the phone down.

Buried my head under the pillow and started crying like mad again.

Didn't want to give up.

I called again. Five rings and the machine picked up. Again, I left no message.

I called for the third time. Told myself that the phone call will determine our future. If he picks up, we move on. If he doesn't, then I just disappear forever and give him peace. He didn't.

Then I thought about actually leaving a message but I didn't know what to say. I could ramble on and on - but wouldn't subjecting his mom to the whines of a pathetic bawling bitch piss him off even more? But then I thought, what if he's waiting for me to leave a message before picking up?

Had to give that a shot.

I called again and made a complete idiot of myself.

"Hi, uhh, it's Pam. I'm really sorry..."

Shit. Didn't even say who the message was for.

He still didn't pick up.

I listened for a while and hung up.

A voice was screaming inside my head - stop being an idiot, Pam, he doesn't want to talk to you. Stop throwing yourself at him, he doesn't need you. And stop crying, you're ugly when you cry. You're ugly when you turn stupid. You're being stupid now.

I guess I should just shut up - maybe my silence is the best thing I can give him. Maybe he is better off without me.

He did say that he didn't want things to end - but he was acting like he wanted the opposite.

How do you try and make up with someone thousands of miles away? Will a gazillion e-cards make up for the pain caused? A million e-mails? An online shrine? How do you make up for something you didn't even know would cause him pain?

How do you give someone peace when you don't even have it?

How do you turn your back on someone you love when all you want to do is take him in your arms and kiss his pain away?

How do you just walk away from someone you want to have in your life forever?




 
July 13, 2002

"With a blog like yours to read, who needs TV?"

Coming from my blog goddess, the words mean even more. Thanks, Mona.

****

HAVE been discussing Ally McBeal with Ken. He sent me this yesterday - this was Ally's closing argument in an episode I didn't get to watch.

"There are some people who meet that somebody that they can never stop loving, no matter how hard they try. I wouldn't expect you to understand that, or even believe it, but trust me, there are some love that don't go away. And maybe that makes them crazy, but we should all be so lucky to end up with that somebody who has a little of that insanity. Somebody who never lets go. Somebody who cherishes you forever."

This just hits too close home.


****

HAD a hilarious conversation with JM last night. Was laughing my head off at 2 a.m. Discovered his amazing talent for - in his own words - "retaining the most useless information."

Here's a sample of what flew out the Pandora's box:

"You can fry an egg on asphalt."

"Termites eat wood faster while listening to heavy metal music."

He couldn't remember the entire plot of the movie, but JM knows that "The Fly had sex when he was five years old."

Then he told me about the difference between hanging habagat and hanging amihan.

And the ultimate lesson of the night, "Mosquitos like the color blue."

Then came his twisted logic: "I like blue. Mosquitos like blue. I must have been a mosquito in my past life."

Hahahahaha.

"Now I know what the M in your name stands for."

I rubbed that in the entire night. Almost annoyed, he said, "Do you know that we've spent the last thirty minutes talking about mosquitos?"

I said, "I know, this could be a world record."

Then I told JM how some website (couldn't remember, this was years ago) said that I was a rain cloud in Burma in the 1500s.

"What are rain clouds called?" I asked.

He hesitated, knowing this would make me start teasing him again. "Nimbus."

He's a walking vat of random trivia.

And his name on my mobile's phone book is now "mosquito."

Hahahahahaha.

Sorry, JM. Couldn't resist teasing you. Thanks for the laugh trip - I needed that.

***

More breadcrumbs leading to my gingerbread house:

pedicure+for+boys+polish

bra+molders+texas

frilly+menstrual+period

obsessive+relationship+and+men

hair+salon+in+UK+for+japanese+hair+straightening

frank's+bargain+center

At least ngayon walang bastos.
 
July 12, 2002

"Cause what I didn't know
Is I was killing you
I said a lot of things that I didn't mean to
But I am older now
And I believe in you
So I can wait awhile
If it brings me back to you.."

- Athenaeum, What I Didn't Know


"Was it just a game to you?
But I'm in so deep.
You know I'm such a fool for you.
You got me wrapped around your finger, ah, ha, ha.
Do you have to let it linger?
Do you have to, do you have to,
Do you have to let it linger?"

- Cranberries, Linger

Wengweng, your mix CD has taken over my life.

***

Still reading Imogen Parker's Perfect Day.

"He has been unfaithful to Nell.

It's such an old-fashioned word, it doesn't seem to appropriately describe what he has done. He repeats it in his head, bracing himself for the flood of guilt. Instead, there's a curious feeling of elation, as if he's been waiting for this to happen, dreading it like an exam, now it's done, it's not nearly as bad as he thought it would be.

He understands for the first time how little effort it takes to betray someone you love, how curiously unintentional it is.

He steps onto the escalator, feeling oddly relaxed."



This, right after he (a 36-year-old male, married and the father of a four-year-old) finished screwing a twenty-four-year old waitress in a mall fitting room.

Add that to the number of men who've tried to cheat on their loved ones with me and add the sum of that to men who've confessed to me how they've never been loyal to anyone ever. Now is it still such a big surprise that the promise of forever scares the shit out of me?


***

The phone call

ONE phone call can change everything.

And to think I was again on the verge of depression last night.

Funny how hearing one person's voice can make everything seem so right. Funny how three years can pass without changing how you feel about someone. Funny how I never stopped loving him all this time. Funny how I woke up early this morning - so happy and energized just because he called. Funny how easy it was for him to make me laugh. Funny how much I enjoyed being teased by him. Funny how much impact he has on my life even though he's so far away. Funny how no one else matters. Funny how my life seems to be on a standstill until the next phone call.

***

TRUST the weather to try and destroy my beautiful day.

Was going to be late (enjoyed chatting with him too much) so rushed outside only to discover that the streets were covered with muck and filth. Walking carefully didn’t help. The sudden downpour added to my horror. After tiptoeing through three blocks of mud, I was drenched and my feet were all splotched with dirt. Actually considered going back home but didn’t want to be defeated by dirt. Stopped at a corner to rest. Felt like crying.

A man behind a tricycle said, “Basang-basa ka.” (You’re really wet.) Then he smiled widely, like seeing a drenched student was the most entertaining thing in the world. Felt like clobbering him. I walked on.

Waited for my ride. Was the lone passenger of a mud-tracked jeep. Spent the first few minutes of the trip wiping off the mess that had dried on my feet and legs. Started to feel better. Traffic didn’t even bother me. But then I heard the man up front and the driver talking. Apparently, they suddenly wanted to change routes because of the traffic.

“Pare, sana pinababa mo na lang para kumaliwa na tayo sa…” (You should have asked her to go down so we can just turn left…)

“Di bale, hanggang [school ko] lang naman yan.” (That’s okay. She’ll get off at [my school] anyway.)

They were talking like I wasn’t there – like I couldn’t hear them, like I couldn’t understand, like I didn’t speak their language. Idiots. Was tempted to skip my first class and insist that they take me all the way to Quiapo just to piss them off.

But despite that, I still felt happy. Hyper, cheery, perky. Yep. Bring on the assholes, the rain, the flood, the muck – nothing and no one can faze me. This is one splendid day.


***

THIS is turning out to be quite a day. Have just been offered a job at a top television network. Will have a meeting with some top guy next week.

They’re giving me a lot of options. Made me remember my conversation with Tim about the importance of having a variety of activities, about avoiding being stagnant. Perhaps it’s time I branched out to broadcast journalism.

Am seriously considering it.

The question is – how do I handle three jobs and school all at the same time?

I can do this. I know I can.


***

HAHAHA. Someone just asked if my brother and I are fraternal twins.

I don’t get it. Maybe it’s the fact that we both like walking in the rain or because we both go around the university wearing headphones most of the time.

But that’s nuts – I’m almost five years older than him.


***

How do you interview a person you find really annoying?

I’ll find out in a few days.


***

SERENDIPITY is what Ruth calls it.

He was here for two years and we didn’t communicate. He went to Glorietta and Megamall constantly just as I did and we never realized it.

Then, last June 7, I left Manila to go to Hong Kong with my family. Last June 11, he left Manila to go to Hong Kong with his dad. He got to Hong Kong’s airport at 11 a.m. Last June 11 at 11 a.m., I was at Hong Kong’s airport waiting for my 1 p.m. flight. We were there at the same time and we didn’t know it.

Members of my family stayed on for another day (I left earlier because of work) – half of them were at the Marriott hotel (where I stayed) and the other half were at the New World Renaissance Hotel. He stayed at the New World Renaissance Hotel. He could have crossed paths with my grandparents and cousins and none of them realized it.

It seems that for a time, fate was playing with us.

But it can play no longer.

We’ve found each other again.


***


SPORTS Journalism might just turn out to be my favorite subject this semester. Not just because I perfected another test (thanks to very generous clues) but because the professor keeps us really busy.

Either we’re typing out quizzes or scrambling to finish on-the-spot feature articles we are asked to produce with our rusty typewriters.

I like that. I have utmost respect for professors who leave me with no time to even think about blogging.


***


WHAT do you know, unseen forces did bring on the rain – and the flood.

But I’m still happy.







July 11, 2002

LAST night (or early this morning, rather), I made a complete idiot of myself. If my life were a movie, the people watching would have been cringing, hands clasped over mouths or eyes in a mixture of embarrassment, pity and horror for the stupid protagonist.

Spent dawn sobbing into my pillow before troubled sleep rescued me from my tears.

Shit, and I don’t think he even knows what he’s doing to me.

***

GOT to class almost an hour late. Turns out I shouldn’t have panicked – instead of a proper lesson in features writing, there was a comelec meeting about the discrepancies of one guy’s claimed position in the university’s Journalism Society.

They’re arguing so heatedly that one would think lives depended on this debate. There is only one problem, actually – this power-hungry loser. Constitution, revision, elections, provisions, positions, misrepresentation – the words spewed out of their mouths like bullets from a machine gun.

Godamnit. I abandoned Political Science because I was so sick of this.

Let them battle it out. I’m just going to enjoy the bag of Hershey’s Kisses that I brought.

This is just school. This is just a game. This isn’t the real world yet. One day they’ll realize that.

***

CONVERSATION with someone from the office:


Me: “Bakit pumapayat ka yata?” (Why are you getting thinner?)
Him: “Overworked, underpaid, ‘overloved’…”
Me: “Is ‘overloved’ another word for oversexed?”
Him: “No. ‘Overromanced’.”
Me: “Oh-kay. What’s the difference?”
Him: ‘Overromanced’ is spiritual.”
Me: (rolling my eyes) “Yeah. Right.”



***

THANKS, Lisa. I know things will be better when I get my sanity back. I might just be halfway there.

***


"Lying wide awake, under strange skies
Wanting to call you but it is late at night
And you’re far away, but you are always on my mind
I feel like I’m on fire, nothing I can do,
I’m troubled with doubt, though I know it is not true
And it’s times like these when I am
Dying to speak to you, I’m dying to get through,
I’m dying to speak to you, dying to get through,
I’m dying to speak to you."

- Ash, Lost In You





 
July 10, 2002

HAVE been talking to a FRIEND who is a bit hesitant to take the plunge with the girl he likes. Have transformed into perky cheerleader, egging him on. I know that when things go right, it’s going to be all worth it. He’s going to be the happiest man in the world.

But first, she has to let go of her bitterness.

The trouble with relationships is that we always have to pay for the mistakes of those who came before us.


***


ONCE again, jealousy rears its ugly head.

That’s one thing I don’t miss about being attached.

I hate that. The nagging bouts, the pangs, the twisting in the guts – I absolutely abhor that. But that’s where I am now.

I dread closing my eyes or even stopping to think because I start thinking about them. The ghosts of my jealousy. Girls who could have touched him where I haven’t. Girls who have whispered in his ear how much they loved him. Girls he’s driven home. Girls who have leaned over to change the radio station on his car stereo. Girls he’s kissed and hugged. Girls who’ve made him laugh out loud. Girls who’ve slapped his knee while throwing their heads back in laughter. Girls who’ve shared a glass with him. Or seen a drop of sweat roll down the side of his face. Girls who’ve shared dessert with him. Girls who’ve fixed his collar. Girls who have tried to see if his last name fits theirs. Girls who’ve heard him sing. Girls who have heard him burp. Girls who’ve watched movies with him. Girls who have wakened with him in their minds. Girls who’ve fallen asleep in his arms. Girls who’ve walked around with their fingers entwined in his. Girls who’ve taken care of him when he’s sick. Girls who’ve watched him play ball. Girls who can see him every day and take that for granted. Girls who made his time away from me bearable. Girls who have called out his name and have seen him turn around to look at them. Girls who have cooked for him. Girls he has cooked for. Girls who smile when they hear his name. Girls whose minds are flooded with memories when he is mentioned. Girls who have pined for him. Girls who could be pining for him. Girls who could be waiting for him to come back.

It’s stupid. I’m jealous of faceless nameless ghosts.

And what’s even more stupid is the fact that I don’t have any right to be jealous at all.

***

EARLY (read: 5 am) text conversation with Manuel who has recently earned the right to brandish around his new MBA degree.

He's now a customer retention manager for a telecom.

Interesting. Hey, J, maybe we could put up a boyfriend retention agency. What do you think?

***

FELL asleep and woke up to read this message:

"I just want you to know that, for all your self-proclaimed "bitchiness", you're okay. Real, true and quite consistent. To me, that's pretty cool. Thanks for that."

Thank you too, R.

***

TODAY, I told two people (in separate conversations) that they were sweet. Their replies were surprisingly similar. "I had a good teacher...you."

Me? Sweet?

At least, one day, when I'm lining up at the pearly gates and asked, "What have you to show for all the time you spent on earth?," I could fidget and say, "Umm, I taught people to be sweet?"

I spread sweetness. Hey, that could be my good deed for this lifetime.

Yeah. Not shabby at all.

***

MEETING with corporate people regarding increasing reader participation in the free tabloid has been scheduled for tomorrow. I couldn't make it - I have a class. Boss asked me to submit my ideas instead. Twenty minutes later, I handed him my proposals - ideas broken down into four categories. Pretty good shit if you ask me.

"That was fast," he said.

"This is what the flood does to you," I said.

He laughed.

I like making my boss laugh. Could be a subconscious attempt to make up for all the minutes I've spent blogging in the office.

***

THINGS like this make me thankful I am living in this part of the continent.

***

AM reading Perfect Day by Imogen Parker.

'Where are you planning to go?' Alexander asks.

'Bali,' she says as if it's the most exotic location she can think of, 'or Thailand. But everyone goes to Thailand now...'

'Everyone goes to Bali,' he tells her.

'Where would you go, then?' she asks.

'Where?' he repeats.

'In the whole world?'

He likes the childlike wonder in her voice.

'There are still some places in the Philippines,' he says.

'Do you think you could write down the names for me?' she asks.

'Sure,' he replies.

Nothing about mail order brides or how disgusting balut is or how loud Filipino people are.

Thank you, Imogen.

***

POTATO chips and vegetarian spring rolls for lunch; cold milk with vanilla syrup and a chocolate glazed donut for dinner.

Yep, today was a day for eating healthy.

***

WATCHED Wonder Years while surrounded by seven males in the office. While 13-year-old Kevin was busy with his summer fling, the boys were recounting stories from their adolescence. Which part of their body became hairy and when, the games they used to play, their initiation into the world of tonsil wrestling and how much they thought about sex.

Was funny - an unwanted peek at the male psyche.





July 9, 2002

Still at my mom’s place and I found a way to go online. Whoopee!

Attained success after the following steps:

1) Asked our helper to buy me a card.

2) Got my mom to surrender the keys of my uncle’s office on the building’s mezzanine.

3) Found a way to connect the PC to the phone. Had to crawl around tracing the phone line back to the PC, soiling my hands and pajamas in the process.

4) Called the hotline of the ISP because their stupid stupid card’s print was all blurry. Their D looked like an O or a 0 and how the hell was I to know that that was an I and not a 1 or an l? Duh.

5) Had to try four different phone lines before the modem worked properly. Was close to tearing all the cords off the wall but I’m calm now.

Anyway, am finally online. Am a genius.

Nah. Who am I kidding? Am a nut. Am sick. Am an addict. I really really need therapy.

Umm, do they have internet access at rehab?

***

SO so nice to be using a keyboard that works perfectly.

My keyboard at home makes that nice clankety-clank sound that I like but unfortunately, because I’ve dropped it several times, some keys just wouldn’t work. You actually have to pound on T to get it to come out. Same thing with M. And the backspace key. And the space bar. Wonder what my keyboard is trying to spell?

***

STILL couldn’t go home to the other house. Flood is knee-high. Huge problem – I have to go to the office tomorrow and I don’t have clothes here. Shit.

Will work something out.

Maybe my trench coat over nice purple pajamas?

Maybe not.

***

MORE strange ways to get to my blog:

nocturnal+night+club+candy+girls

her+foot+dancing+klutz

lola+bathing+suits

vin+diesel+nude

men+fuck+another+men

the+corrs+vomiting

problem+with+popples+cat

Ano ba yan.

At least now I’ve been getting searches for “nocturnalangel.” Thank you. That’s one normal thing I appreciate.

***

RUTHIE, let me break this to you gently.

I found your blog. Mwahahahahahaha! *sinister laughter*

You can’t keep it a secret forever. I love you but it’s your turn to squirm.

Sunshine, you’re next.

***

WAS able to watch Working Girl on Star Movies this afternoon. Had to text Manuel to find out the title – for some reason, he’s like a walking movie database.

Enjoyed the movie (it was released in 1988 - Harrison Ford was still young and therefore hot) but loved one scene in particular. Friends had cajoled Tess’ (Melanie Griffith) boyfriend Mick (Alec Baldwin) to pop the question at their other friends’ engagement party – in front of everyone. But Tess had just caught the bastard cheating on her.

Mick: Tess, will you marry me?
Tess: Maybe.
Mick: What kind of an answer is maybe?
Tess: If you want a different answer, ask a different girl.


***

Excerpts from e-mails of a regular blog reader:

“What is wrong with me?! I couldn't even pick up a book by some of the great authors in history, and when I do I end up sleeping… and yet here i am, up 3 a.m., checking if i could read yours..”

“It’s like getting high on a drug for the first time... you don't know exactly what you’re taking... but you swallow it whole…”

“…thanks for existing...”

Whoa.

Thank you.

I’ll be waiting for your blog.




 
July 8, 2002


MADE it to work. Flood was still knee-high but thanks to my uncle’s SUV and kind heart, I got to the office without drenching my citrus beach slides.

Seven measly pages – eight, actually, but one was reserved for the funnies. It’s barely eight p.m. and we’re almost done. Totally disorienting.

J and I are thinking of going to Glorietta – for dinner and to go online– shitty office ISP is down again.


***

THANKS, JM, for actually considering stealing your dad’s Pajero keys so you can bring us to the office.

That’s really sweet – in a twisted way.

***

I’M BEGINNING to feel like an idiot. Maybe we should stop. Yeah, while I still like me.

***

EXCELLENT break-up CD, Mau. I regret that it took me more than half a year before I listened to it.

“So you buried all your lover’s clothes
And burned the letters lover wrote
But it doesn’t make it any better
Doesn’t make it any better…”

- The Brilliant Dance, Dashboard Confessional

***

ALL plans of going to Glorietta have been shot down to smithereens. Mom wants to pick me up early from the office because “it’s flooded all over.” Since her vocabulary constantly veers toward the extreme and the exaggerated, that probably means a few select places in the city have huge puddles.

My house remains an island.

Have no choice but to go home to her place. That means no Internet, no own phone, no own bed and no privacy for me.

Screw this weather.

***

J AND I have just combed the Pasong Tamo area for an open internet café. Finally found one – but not before getting our feet soaked. So much for rejoicing for the seemingly immense powers of my citrus slides when it comes to avoiding dirt, mud and puddles.

J is desperately praying that there will be no blackouts so he can blog when he gets home.

We both need therapy.











 
July 7, 2002

Almost one a.m. and am drenched.

Was walking back to my room while waiting for the pandesal in the oven to reach the right amount of crispness (hate hate my PMS hunger pangs) when I heard a cat crying loudly. The sound was coming from the terrace where it was pouring buckets. Immediately dashed towards that direction. Had to turn the key, unbolt the lock, remove the wooden plank wedged between the glass door and the wall, undo the lock of the second door (this household is OC about security) before stepping out. Cold wind and heavy rain greeted me - even more unpleasant when it's just after midnight and you're wearing almost nothing. Tried looking for the cat. Cat turned out to be a kitten stuck on the roof. Tried coaxing it down but it wouldn't budge. Couldn't get the ladder as it was in the garage where the water is waist-deep. Kitten continued crying. Poor little thing was probably scared as hell. Tried coaxing it to come closer to me, to go to the other end of the roof so I can stand on top of the concrete stairs leading to my cousins' terrace and reach for it. Still wouldn't budge. At least it wasn't getting wet - it was safe under an awning - but it was probably hungry. Dashed back inside and grabbed a pandesal. I tore it into small bite-sized pieces and tossed it towards the kitten. Then I went up the stairs and watched as it attacked the bread. It was hungry, no, famished.

I fed it but it still wouldn't come down. Feel terribly helpless. But at least it's not crying anymore.

***

THE Feng Shui Junkie by Brian Gallagher is an absolute delight. Started reading this yesterday and have hardly been able to put it down. (I've stubbed my toe several times and have stepped on undesirable things because I continue reading even while walking around the house.) The bizarre story starts when Julie finds out that her husband is cheating on her. Hers is a story of unconventional revenge. It's hilarious - I just love it. The dining room scene with the "salmon mousseline" is a gem. The ending could have used a little more oomph, though.

***

From The Feng Shui Junkie:

"If there is a God, why did he create love when it causes such pain?"

Answered by Barbra Streisand in The Mirror Has Two Faces:

"Because it feels damn good."

***

O., you drive me crazy but you make me happy.

***

I KNOW I was complaining about not being able to just sit around and be bored in the house but this is too much. I've been stuck at home for two days straight. Yesterday, we had to cancel the charity event and today, on top of not being able to go to work, I also had to cancel our meeting/issue-planning session. Water outside is still waist-deep and it hasn't stopped raining.

Tomorrow, waist-deep or not, I'd have to leave the house to close this week's issue.

Please, God, I don't want to swim.

***

Maritess has ruined my life.

Okay, that's a bit dramatic.

But since I first watched Dino Ignacio and Rex Navarrete's masterpiece over a month ago (and because I've seen it repeatedly since then - blame my officemates), I haven't gotten her voice out of my head.

Last night, I was reading The Feng Shui Junkie's last few pages. The passages were supposed to be dramatic - Julie was trying to calm herself in the tub after confronting her husband and his mistress.

"First, the innocence and peace of your childhood destroyed by your father's affair. Then you and your mother together pick up the pieces, worn and brittle and blood-and-tear-stained, and you live out the rest of your adolescence in a meteorological depression of the soul - but at least without a man to stymie it up on you.

Then you go to college and meet one.

You meet one and marry your addiction, and live on a high for a few years, plan babies and suddenly you discover he's doing the dirty on you. You take a nosedive. You try to cope, to rehabilitate, to forget - and what happens?

Your front doorbell rings.

I don't want to know."

And there goes Maritess' voice. "I don't want to knowwwwwwwwwww," her raspy broken English tormenting my ears. I shake her off and resume reading.

"I extract a soggy white top from the basket and attach it to the line by two further pegs. I like pegs in winter: they don't carry tiny spiders that spin webs on your clothes line to trap unsuspecting miniature airborne wildlife. I have a phobia about cobwebs and all they imply."

And for a while, I actually make myself believe that Maritess has left.

"The bell rings again.

I don't want to know."

And there she is again. "I don't want to knowwwwwwwwwwwwwww." Thought about jumping up, letting the book fall to the floor and running out of the room but Maritess will surely follow.

"I don't want to knoooOOOOOooooooOOOOOOwwwwwwwwww."

Go away, Maritess. Stop tormenting me. Torment J or Giles or anyone else.

I don't want to know. Really. I don't.

***

WATCHED Finding Forrester (at least half of it - will finish the other half later before I sleep). Dialogue was pretty interesting.

One:

"You write your first draft with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is to write - not think."

Two:

"You know those things you do, that coffee shop reading shit? You know why they do it?"

"Sell books, I guess..."

"Coz they wanna get laid."

Three:

"You know what the absolute best moment is? It's when you've finished your first draft and you read it by yourself before these assholes take something they couldn't do in a lifetime and tear it down in a single day."




***

WAS desperately craving Friday's mushrooms, fried mozzarella and strawberry shake but since I couldn't get out of the house, I brought Friday's home.

Okay, not exactly.

Just made my own battered mushrooms and ranch dressing.

Was pretty damn good, although I got dizzy as hell after consuming half a can of button mushrooms.


***

MY GRANDMA'S champurado is to die for.

I don't like messing up the taste with milk. I like it pure, dark and really cold.


***

WHAT'S worse than being stuck at home because of the disgusting flood outside?

Getting your period along with horrible horrible menstrual cramps.

And what's worse than that?

Running low on your super-power Advil Liqui-Gels.

Shit, am down to eight capsules. This will last me a month - two, if I stretch it. No biggie if I can just go to the drugstore for another bottle - but I can only get this from the US. The local version of the drug doesn't work on me - the dosage is too weak.

Am screwed.

***

SPENT the last three hours cleaning up my hard drive in hopes that my turtle of a computer will appreciate the effort and stop being so effing slow. Deleted unnecessary files, made new folders, classified the files that were saved.

Was pretty entertaining actually. Laughed at the file names I used for school work back in my hellish days as a Political Science major. The file names showed which teacher I loathed.

Had projects with the following names: [professor's name] stupid seminar.doc, [professor's name] shit.doc, [professor's name] crap.doc, [professor's name] crap again.doc.

If his arrogant ass only knew.

***

YOU think I'll actually believe that you bought your new phone just to be able to text me?

Come on, man, I'm not stupid.


***

DECIDED to play with Leidy a little.

First, a little introduction. In our tight group of eight in school, Leidy stands out for being the only prude and goody-two-shoes. She's a control freak. Last semester, when I was constantly late for our earliest subject, she was threatening to stand guard outside my bedroom to make sure I woke up and got ready on time. She scolds us when we skip class and texts to remind us about schoolwork. Leidy's lifestyle seems to be leading her straight to a convent. The girl will be a perfect nun. Just a few months ago, she even asked us, "What are tits?"

Don't get me wrong. We love her. That doesn't mean, though, that we don't enjoy getting her feathers all ruffled (pretty easy to do - just mention the word "sex" and she'll either a) get all red b) tell us to shut up c) cover her ears or d) get up and walk out). It's fun to get her all worked up. Like tonight.

She sent me a message she had intended for Patricia. When I told her about her boo-boo, she asked how I was. I said, "Happy. M getting married in 2003."

This little fact, of course, is not true. But since Leidy knows how crazy I can be sometimes, despite my promises of eternal singlehood, an early marriage isn't something she'll put past me.

Her reaction was classic: "Whaaaattt??? What the hell is going on? Are you drunk???"

I can't remember the last time I grinned that widely. I almost felt the edges of my lips starting to tear.

I replied nonchalantly that I was sober and very excited about my engagement.

Again, I got a reply peppered with countless question marks. She even asked, "Does the flood have anything to do with this?" (Hail the powers of murky waters.) I remained firm (all the while guffawing). No, I am not joking and yes, I am getting married.

She sends me this message: "We will have a long talk on Tuesday."

Hahahahahahaha.

Typical.


***

GOT a frantic call from Maui who screamed at me to watch CNN. Alanis was hosting Music Room and I had forgotten. Shit. Was able to catch the quick history of her career, hear her speak about the past and and see snippets of her singing 21 things I want in a lover live.

I looooooove her.

Mau, I thought she was coming here?

Can't wait to be up front again, hyperventilating while she performs.

I'm hyperventilating now, actually.

***

oh these little protections how they fail to serve me
one forgotten phone call and i'm deflated
oh these little defenses how they fail to comfort me
your hand pulling away and i'm devastated

---- Alanis, So Unsexy






 
July 6, 2002

LET ME do a Vanessa Carlton.

I would…


… gladly get a dozen shots every single day for the rest of my life even if needles terrify me…

… stop blogging for…err..a while…

… touch a snake, even wrap it around my neck…

… throw all my earrings down a pipe drain, pair after pair…

… swim in the disgusting waist-deep flood outside my house…

… give away all my precious shoes and spend the rest of my life in hole-y Spartans…

… avoid my manicurist…

... listen to Aqua, Vengaboys, Barry Manilow, Air Supply and Salbakuta nonstop...

… walk around Glorietta naked…

… play Frisbee with my Friends VCDs…

… sing in one of those videoke booths in the middle of a crowded mall…

… join any contest in any horrible noontime show…

… shave my head…

… start eating meat again…




... if it meant spending tonight in your arms.




July 5, 2002

FRIENDS don’t know what to make of my previous days’ entries.

Manuel: “You just need a drink.”
Gabby: “See, I told you this would happen. Karma.”
Ruth: “Frankly, I’m scared. I’m not used to seeing (or reading) you like this.”
JM: “Aww. Everything will be all right.”
J: “Hoy!! Ano ba!!”

I can almost see my friends tiptoeing around me, not knowing how to react. Because this is not the Pam they know. Because they’ve been used to me making idiots grovel and cry. Because while men get clingy, I remain indifferent. Because they don’t usually see me crying over some guy.

But he isn’t just some guy.

***

I USED to check the wedding announcements in newspapers for his picture. Or even just his name. Because knowing that he was about to be married would finally kill any hope I had left. I would finally be able to tell myself that he will never be more than the guy I let go. The one I lost.

But my inbox tells me otherwise.

***

ANOTHER e-mail.

I started bawling my eyes out at the café. Could have been embarrassing but I didn’t really care.

“You will always be my angel…soiled wings, broken halo and all…I’ll be here if you need me…to caress you and to heal your wounds…so that you can fly again…”

“Do you remember these words? ‘You have my heart…that’s all I can offer you right now…you can do whatever you want with it…’ Three years ago, I gave you my heart…I have no intention of asking for it… you still have it… and you can still do whatever you want with it…”

His words made me weep.

I’ve turned into a sap and a half.

He’s melted what the idiots have hardened.

***

MORE and more people I know are blogging. Ruthie predicts that this phenomenon will leave us with nothing to talk about.

Foreseen conversations:

Kathy: “Uy, alam niyo ba..” (Hey, guess what..)
Ruth: “Oo, nabasa ko na kagabi…” (Yeah, I read that last night.”)

Gabby: “O Ruth, ano nangyari sa party?” (Ruth, what happened at the party?)
Ruth: “Basahin mo na lang blog ko.” (Just read my blog.)

Just this afternoon, we took a joy ride (joy probably isn’t the best word because eight of us were crammed into Ruth’s sleek new baby and Kathy and Patricia ended up getting cramps) and were enthusiastically discussing a strange topic – wearing a bra at home.

I said, “I usually just wear a tanktop and undies at home.”

Then came a chorus of, “We know, we read it in your blog.”

At the same time, I’ve been talking to more bloggers lately. Just last night, I ICQd with Kid and Macy.

My two worlds are coming together.

***

I HATE how people think SMS has replaced all forms of proper communication.

Don’t text me looking for a job.

Don’t text marketing proposals to me.

Don’t expect me to drop everything and jump to attend your press con just because you texted me.

I don’t care about us being the text generation and all that bull – HAVE SOME RESPECT.

***

RECEIVED a touching e-mail.

“Even the ugliest of emotions become beautiful when you write them.”

Wow.

Thank you. I hope you find the courage to let other people into your soul.

***

IF I HAD known blogging would catch on as much as it already has, I would have chosen it as my thesis topic.

I can already imagine my defense. I’d be blabbing away about the wonders of blogging while the sure-to-be-stiff-and-ancient members of the panel stare with mouths open.

“Miss Pastor, explain the concept of blogging again.”

“Yes, and what is blogger?”

“And how does one blog?”

Again and again and again ‘til they get so sick and exasperated that they’ll give me a passing grade before pushing me out the door.






 
July 4, 2002

Another e-mail, a fresh flood of tears.

And I thought I had gone numb.

Last night, I forced myself to sit through two movies I didn’t really want to see and read ‘til my eyes were closing on every other word just so I can be sure that once I put the book down, I would be asleep in a snap. Just so I can be sure that I wouldn’t stay up the whole night thinking of him. Because thinking of him hurts.

Yesterday, I sent him the url of my blog – so he’d know what I’ve been up to the past couple of years we haven’t communicated. I don’t know if that was such a good idea. I know there’s a huge chance he’d say, “Oh shit, she’s so screwed up, I’m outta here,” but I wanted him to know. While I could have allowed him to think that I haven’t changed at all, I wouldn’t want to one day surprise him with the nasty fact that I'm not the same girl he fell in love with. Above everything else, I want to be honest with him. He deserves that. And if this honesty becomes the reason he disappears forever, then I will just have to face that.

Yesterday, JM e-mailed and said, “Hey, maybe you guys can go out.”

But it’s not that simple. See, he got my e-mail the first night he got back to the US. Once again, he’s beyond my reach. He was here for over a year and I had no idea. We could have been in some places at the same time and I never had a clue. We had been sharing breathing space and I was oblivious.

He slipped by me, just like that.

This could be fate playing one of its games, this could be karma kicking me in the face, this could be him getting back at me for hurting him in the past.

You’re right, O., I was your angel. But your angel has soiled wings and a broken halo.

Excuse me while I lock myself up in my room. Excuse me while I shut the rest of the world out.

***

INSTEAD of turning into a hermit as planned, I ended up spending the entire day curled up next to my grandma in her room, watching VCDs. We watched The Mirror Has Two Faces and What Women Want. Avoided movies that reminded me of him, like City of Angels, You’ve Got Mail, Sleepless In Seattle – but who am I kidding? All movies remind me of him. Right now, everything reminds me of him.

Even things that have nothing to do with him remind me of him.

***

DIDN’T MAKE it to school today. Didn’t even try. It was raining nonstop and all streets are flooded.

The weather is a mirror of my disposition.

***

DURING the downpour, I stepped out to the terrace in my tanktop and undies. Wanted to get soaked just like I used to do when I was a kid.

It was freezing. Three seconds and I was back in my room.

I’ve turned into such a coward.

***

OBLIVIOUS to my turmoil, people have been communicating with me all day. My mother called. People texted. People called with problems about Saturday’s event. People ICQd. More people texted.

I am amazed at how normal I seem to them when I’m all torn up inside.

***

SOMEONE texted asking if I was free tomorrow. “What for?” I asked. The answer is all relative.

If it’s for some random date, or a night spent dodging his advances, a day out with a preacher who will talk my ears off, a day at a museum, sewing lessons, camping, a day at the gym, etc – then I’m sorry, I’m already booked for the day – for the year, even.

If it’s for an Alanis or No Doubt concert or a shopping spree at Dymocks or a day spent with O., then I’m free as those little toys that come buried in your cereal boxes.



 
July 3, 2002

THERE WAS a reason I wasn’t able to check my mail last night – unseen forces probably didn’t want me crying myself to sleep. Because I’m sure that’s what I would have done if I read last night’s mail. Because that’s what I did when I read it now.

Didn’t help, of course, that my officemates were around me when the feeling hit. Had to brush away my tears fast so no one would notice.

Last week, I e-mailed someone even if I knew there was a huge chance the e-mail would just bounce back. But he got it. And he replied.

He was someone I loved for over a year. But someone I couldn’t be with because of various reasons. My being a stupid bitch one of them.

I had waved him off as dead, in the attempt to get peace of mind. I was successful for three years but now I know he’s alive.

I don’t know why I cried. But he’s always affected me in a strange way. One call and I'd be deliriously happy. He had me constantly listening to Sarah Maclachlan’s Angel and crying myself to sleep for months. He had me hallucinating about running into him in malls. And to this day, when my cousins would mention his name, I get painful pangs in my heart.

One e-mail and I'm all broken. I don't think he has any idea how much power he's had over me.

Now he’s alive.

Now I’m crying again.

***

More weird searches from weird net junkies. Perhaps I should change this blog's name to Nocturnal Pervert?

problems+behind+Rockwell+Makati

angel+fighting

Lori+Erwin+nude

erotic+stories+of+horny+students+with+teachers

wives+wanting+to+fuck+someone+else



Ugh. Stay away, sick-os.

***

“HOW DOES it feel to be nominated left and right?” Ru asked me this afternoon.

He was talking about our paper nominating 1) my article in the paper’s magazine and 2) one of my section’s issues for [what-shall-remain-unnamed-for-the-time-being-lest-we-be-jinxed].

Even if we don’t get to the finals, even if we don’t get to crash the awards night all glammed up, even if we don’t get to make stuttering fools of ourselves while giving the obligatory speech, I’m a happy happy nut.

Being nominated is enough honor.

Yay! *cartwheels*

***

THANKS for the new book, Ru. Will attack it soon.

***

YESTERDAY, the professor was asking for different forms of sex. Since it was a Theology class, no one wanted to speak up, lest they gave away just how much they knew about sex.

“Marital” and “extra-marital” were the first two answers.

All around me, people were cracking jokes, quietly so self-righteous professor will not hear. “Umm, cumming in her mouth?” One guy said with an earnest look on his face. “Umm, sucking it?” A girl interjected.

Finally, professor high-and-mighty swooped in on one guy at the back. “What’s another form of sex?” She blared.

The guy, evidently flustered, said, “Bestiality?”

The whole class roared with laughter.

The answer turned out to be “incest”.

***

SOMEONE texted me this afternoon. “How does one reach deep within one’s self and say, ‘this is important enough and I want to share it with everyone’ and become a writer?”

You are born with that feeling.

***

Lille posted about last week’s existential agony.

She got the nail right on the head. The changes and not knowing if you could ever go back to being what you were before.

Thanks, Lille. It’s always good to know you’re not alone.

Come to think of it, I did grow up in the media. I was seventeen when I was initiated into this industry – that was four years ago. I was nicer then, even a bit shy, definitely more innocent and not at all jaded. I did not have an envy-inducing bank account and neither did my parents. I did not have a last name I could wave around or connections in high places. I had nothing but my passion and my desire to write. After being enslaved by a drugged out bitch, after meeting all kinds of people – from the type you want to equip with halos and wings to those you want to chop up and feed to hungry horses, after countless deadlines, after carrying more responsibilities than I thought I could ever handle, after seemingly endless screaming matches with my mother who doesn’t understand that my work requires me to travel and go out and actually stop being a toddler, after having my ideals crushed by people who are here for the money, after having PR people bug me even at home/on Sundays/at night, after choosing my work over family trips to the US, after juggling school work and various jobs, after not knowing if a person likes you because of your position or because of who you really are, I have become a completely different person. More sure of myself, not at all shy, bitchy at times, intimidating to some, a workaholic to others, no longer innocent, jaded and at times weary. One thing has remained constant – I am still head over heels in love with this job. With this crazy world. With my equally crazy life.





 
July 2, 2002

2 A.M. J ,Giles and I are still in the office.

J and I have just spent the last hour or so reading through Nelz's journal. It was a roller coaster - funny, sad, exciting and heartbreakingly real.

You probably won't get to read this, but I hope you find true happiness, Nelz.

***

J and Giles were discussing this guy we ran into a few months back in Glorietta. Apparently, J is starting to obsess over guy and was concerned about Giles feeling the same way.

J: Crush mo ba siya, Giles? (Is he your crush, Giles?)
G: Hindi, fantasy lang. (No, he’s just a fantasy.)
J: Eh di crush mo nga. (So he is your crush.)
G: Hindi nga, fantasy lang. (No, he’s just a fantasy.)
J: Ah pinagjajakolan mo, ganon? (You mean you jack off while thinking about him?)
G: (laughing) Hindi. Hindi naman masturbation material yon eh. (No. He’s not masturbation material.)
J: Eh ano ngang fantasy? (So what fantasy are you talking about?)
G: Eh di yung [guy’s name]–saves-the-day fantasy. Pero hindi naman yung parang security guard ha. (The [guy’s name]-saves-the-day fantasy. Not that I imagine him as a security guard, okay?)
J: Ano, yung tipong nalulunod ka, ganon? (You imagine you’re drowning?)
G: Oo, yung sasabihin niya, sige, kapit ka lang sa’ken. (Yeah. Then he’d say, okay, just hold on to me.)

And what really cracks me up is the fact that they were serious the whole time.


***

THANK you for that e-mail, Kate. You didn't have to wait eleven months to get in touch with me - I'm not as scary as I seem. But to be honest, the thought of a fourteen-year-old religiously reading this blog is disconcerting. I fear the impressions I might have left on you.


***


HAVE a ton of school deadlines to be met later. And since I don’t have the energy for bullshit now, I’ve been trying to convince myself that I can just wake up early and start working then. But since I usually sleep at dawn, there’s a huge possibility that won’t happen.

But I have a plan. Will get my manicurist to go to my house really early, that way I will have no choice but to get up.

Then I can crank up the bullshit machine.

***

THERE USED to be a time when I’d walk around the house, bored out of my mind, trying to think of something new I could do. Now, the only time I walk around the house is when I’m dashing out or getting back in.

I miss just lying in bed and doing nothing. I think I can do that for an entire week.

***

3:40 A.M. Just got home. Spent the last hour listening to my mother doing her usual monologue. Was so glad to finally get out of the car and bask in the silence of my home. That felt as good as the last day of school or breaking free from a horrible relationship.

I am so sick of hearing her drone on and on about her case against my father. I don’t feel anything for him – that little fact has been established for years so ranting about him no longer affects me – it just annoys me. Especially when it’s just the same things over and over again. I’ve heard it all before. I’ve been hearing it for years. How she has done nothing but sacrifice and take care of her children, how he has done nothing but give her pain, how he has thrown all his money away on the bimbos he picks up off the streets, how she thinks everyone in his side of the family has turned against her, how she wants to get money from him because that’s the only thing he can provide. Paranoia. Martyrdom. Self-pity. Self-righteousness. Hate.

I. am. so. sick. of. it.

I tried butting in a few times – when her drama became too much to bear. “Don’t think this will be a scene from one of those courtroom dramas. These people will not ask you to talk about every tiny detail. You might not even be asked to go up the stand. There is a saying that “the law is free from passion”. They won’t care about that - they just want the facts.” My brother did the same when he felt she crossed the line.

Then of course, there was again a little remark about my choice of residence. (“I wouldn’t know how to explain in court why you have been staying there.” There like there was a diseased community and not a place I love.) The fact that I choose to stay with my grandmother six nights a week is another sore point with my mom. But this is my home. This is where I grew up. This used to be her home too before she and my father separated ten years ago. This is the only home I’ve known. I have my space, my room and all my things here. I have my life here. I have peace here. I have my silence here.

She spoke continuously for well over forty minutes and didn’t seem to get tired. I, on the other hand, wanted to jump out of the moving car the entire time. Anything for silence. And while she droned on and on for the better part of an hour, only two words stayed with me.

“….fabricated lies…”

And I thought, “Fabricated stories or fabricated words would be better. It is understood that lies are fabricated so “fabricated lies” is redundant.”

Trust me to focus on a technicality.

I am numb. I am unfeeling. I am insensitive.

My mother has used up her emotion supply - and mine. She has left me with none.

***

I DON’T get why we have to write essays for our Photo Journalism class.

Shouldn’t we be taking pictures?

***

RUTHIE is my partner in Photo Journalism. Ruthie who is passionate about creating images and has been wanting to shoot me naked.

No prob, I say.

Me speaking in manner of Pinoy bold stars – bad English, verbal diarrhea, exaggerated lip movement, mouth painted blindingly red. “Por art’s sake. Disente naman ho yung pagkagawa. Kailangan po talaga sa pelikula eh. May tiwala naaman ako kay direk. At maganda ho yung storya. Talaga!”

Ha.

***

SAYS bright young Kate, “You’re too intelligent for your own – and other people’s – good.

***

TODAY’S contest: Stupidest things a teacher can say on a boring Tuesday

Candidate #1:

“Soooo sakit,” my second professor for the day said, describing the time she was pregnant with her eldest child.

I don’t buy the fake colegiala shit. Because the rest of the time she sounds like a wet market vendor.

Candidate #2:

“A marriage is a good vocation to attain salvation.”

So now, we have another item to add to the list of the many reasons people get married. It’s not just love, compatibility, money, disillusions, the desire to grow old with another person, complete maturity, boredom, convenience and loneliness – we can get married to be saved. And should our spouse no longer be viewed as a partner, an equal, a lover, a best friend but instead be worshipped as a savior?

Oh well. This affects me none.

Candidate #3:

“You don’t know what celibacy is?”

Uhh, what is that? Is that a disease?

Pretty funny to start discussing celibacy when last year we made a sex magazine as a project for one of our classes.

Candidate #4:

“Your spouse is not another person. He is half of you.”

Ha. Ha. Hahahahahahahahahaha.

So the wedding is not only a celebration of a couple’s union but also the day they become half the person they were.

Thank you, Mrs. Professor, for further strengthening my desire to say eternally single.

And the winner:

Professor looking for props to show off his 1932 camera. “Does anyone have a torch?”

Oh, here, sir, it was buried under my tent all along. Duh. Why would anyone bring a torch to class? Why would anyone have a torch at all? The last time I checked, we were in a university in the middle of the city, not an old Survivor episode.

* I’m sure I could have found more candidates – but I wasn’t really listening.

***

THERE are too many Mikes in my mobile’s phone book. There are five them – one is our photographer, two is an old friend who disappeared after he tried to borrow big bucks from me and I didn’t concede, three is someone I met last year and haven’t spoken to since (a shame, really, he was interesting), four is a marketing person I know through work, five is someone I went out with three years ago who I don’t want to see again despite his attempts.

I really should clean up my phone book.

***

I’VE NEVER seen Notting Hill in its entirety.

In fact, early this morning, I put myself to sleep by popping it in the player.

True enough, even before the first disc was halfway done, I was asleep,

It never fails.

***

RUTHIE and I started dreaming about going to a coffee shop right in the middle of class. She wanted hot chocolate and I wanted cold milk with vanilla syrup. Since the others wanted to go straight home after school, only she, Gabby and I actually went.

Ruthie made a boo-boo. Guy-behind-the-counter asked her, “Do you want it heated?” (He was referring to her apple danish.)

Ruthie just stared at him quizzically, getting red in the face.

She later on confessed that she thought the guy said, “Do you want me in heat?”

Ended up enjoying ourselves – we’ve decided to make the coffee shop stop a habit. We will be touring all the branches of said coffee shop in the coming months. Each visit will be documented. Should make for an interesting study for our Photo Journalism class.

If you ask me, though, I wouldn’t mind going back to the branch we went to tonight. That barista was way cute.

On Thursday, we will be coming up with a list of things we’d like to do before we graduate.

That should be interesting.

***

HAVE JUST finished eating week-old leftover french fries from McDonald’s. I had thrown the bag in the ref after getting home really late one night last week. I didn’t want to endure the guilt of throwing them out when there are tons of starving people in this world.

Tonight, after scrounging through my ref and not coming up with anything meat-less, I popped the fries and a week-old half-eaten mushroom cheese and lettuce sandwich from Brothers Burger into the oven. Tasted pretty good, actually. Got the fries all crisp – masked any bad taste that could have been there.

I was that hungry.

Must be getting my period.




July 1, 2002


"YOU look like a bitch" were J's first words when he saw me today. Arrived at the office still fully made up and extremely late after the graduation pictorial. J said that my eyes are so frightening that 1) I can stare at him with a blank expression on my face and still scare the wits out of him and 2) I should meet up with the men that I've always wanted to tell off and leave them traumatized.

I like that.

Meanwhile, the people in the office have been teasing me. I'm not surprised since I've never been a big makeup person. Seeing me wear makeup would be like having J waltz in wearing a dress.

As for being a bitch, I'm perfectly fine with that. I know I was never meant to be a nice girl anyway.


***

PEOPLE constantly tell me I should have been born with a dick. Gay friends squeal about me being more male than they would ever be, some men do not appreciate the fact that I've got more balls than they do, old flames didn't feel it was right for me to be in control ("Parang ikaw yung lalaki ah," they would often say.).

My excess testosterone shows in a lot of ways - my aversion to public bathrooms is one of them.

Unlike most girls who deem a bathroom visit almost every half hour essential, I can go an entire day without feeling the need to head to the john. For every five times J has to go to the bathroom (and he doesn't just go to pee), I only have to go once (sometimes never) - and I only go when nature calls, not to check my face or my clothes or to indulge whenever vanity strikes.

I don't like sharing breathing space with strangers. I don't like too-crowded bathrooms where one would have to fight for a chance to use the sink. I don't like being stuck in a room full of girls staring at their faces and trying their best to make themselves look presentable while their dates/boyfriends/preys/predators stand outside looking impatient and bored. I don't like hearing girls getting all giddy about each other's lipstick shades. I don't like staring at myself in the mirror when I'm out - I think it's a waste of time. I don't like hearing girls squeaking high-pitched gossip, their voices grate on my nerves.

***

JUST the other day, I walked into the ladies' room of the restaurant we were dining in. Two girls who were huddled in front of the mirror appeared to be discussing something extremely substantial. Not wanting to eavesdrop, I went straight to the toilet. Since they weren't making any conscious effort to keep their voices down, I overheard every single word of their conversation.

Bimbo 1: Don't you think it's sad that our gay friends can apply eye makeup better than we do?
Bimbo 2: Yeah!!
Bimbo 1: I just don't know how!
Bimbo 2: I know, it's so complicated!
Bimbo 1: We should really learn.
Bimbo 2: Yeah, it's the most important thing!

Most important thing? Eye makeup? When there's war and hunger and poverty and cruelty and love and injustices and inequality and sex and… and sex?

Oh well. Just call it a difference in priorities.