August 30, 2002

STRAIGHT-FACED conversation with my barkada's resident prude right in the middle of Taxation class, after discovering that there is a different kind of tax for items used for pleasure.

Me: "Leidy, may vibrator ka?"
Leidy: "Ha?"
Me: "May vibrator ka?"
Leidy: "Ha? Ako? Vibrator?"
Me: "Oo. Meron nga?"
Leidy: "Wala... cellphone."

Hahahaha.

Cellphone pala ha.


***

JUST bought myself happy socks from Topshop. Even my grandma liked them.

Next on the list - happy undies.

Hee.

***

FINALLY watched Gamitan with my friends after school. Just had to see what the fuss was all about - especially since J and Tim - Tim, especially - couldn't stop talking about it last Monday at work.

Now, I'll be able to say more than just "pakabait ka" to Quark if he tells me again to watch it.

I didn't like it.

The movie was dragging. There were loopholes in the story and the acting was bad. There was no "oomph" in the sex scenes. And artist guy looks like that Romnick Sarmenta (Sarmienta?) person.

And while the camera angles and soundtrack were impressive, I wouldn't watch it again.

I'm sorry, Quark. Although your twisted sense of humor shone in this film, I liked A Date With Jao Mapa better. Way better.

Now that I think about it, I even liked the "behind-the-scenes of a porn movie" video you made as a class project better.


***

Forget the Ford

Someone bought me a denim blue pearl effect TT Coupe Audi and a purple two-door Nissan sportscar.

Nah, not in real life, silly. In Gran Turismo 2.

my audi


***

"EVERYONE is thrown into this world without wanting to be in it at first. It is up to us to find who and what will make us happy. I'm glad I'm your happiness now."

"No matter what happens, I'll always be glad that when I learned how to love, it was with you."
 
August 29, 2002


PROBABLY should have worn a black dress, black pumps and a black veil to work yesterday. Would have been more appropriate.

People looked at me with pity in their eyes. They echoed one sentence.

"Gaga ka, bakit hindi mo pupuntahan si Mandy Moore? Sayang." (Why aren't you going to meet Mandy Moore? What a shame.)

"Di naayos yung visa ko eh." (I wasn't able to get a visa.)

Then they shook their heads in sympathy.

Cheer up, guys.

Am not even sad.

And Mandy Moore can kiss my ass.


***

HAVE always loved this song. But the words have doubled in meaning now.

"adore U
I do, I do, I do
and everything I am I would give to you
my love, my love, my love
and everything I pretend to be I will own up to
I will crown you, and drown in this
your (blue glistening waterfall)
nothing quite like it
(the wind on my paper boat sail you are)
the trigger on my gun

adore U
I said, I do, I do, I do
and everything I am I would give to you
my love, my love, my love
(don't ever walk away)
(don't ever walk away)
I said don't ever walk away..."

--- Adore U, Alisha's Attic


***

THE OFFICE cubicle turned silent as she mutated into a monster. In a matter of minutes, her scalp had cracked and split open, horns bulged out of her head, sharp fangs peeked from between her lips, claws gleamed sharply from hairy fingers and a long, ugly, scaly red tail twitched behind her.

The tranformation started when an idiot called E. called her office line.

And while this monster's ultimate weapon is sarcasm, that had to be shelved last night, as all efforts will be wasted on E's non-existent brain.

Had to resort to rudeness - the only language he can understand. And even that was difficult to ram into his thick skull.

She attacked. The first blow was harsh.

"Ayaw na kitang makausap. Bakit ba hindi ka makaintindi? Ang kulit kulit mo. Sobra. Hindi na tayo pwedeng maging magkaibigan. At kahit kelan hindi mo na ako makakausap ng matino. Huwag ka nang tatawag." (I don't want to talk to you. Why can't you understand that? You are being such a pest. We are never going to be friends. And we'd never have a decent conversation again. Stop calling me.)

By this time, her officemates seemed to have frozen in their seats and were listening to every word. But he survived the first blow and even had the guts to argue with her. She attacked again.

"Ayaw na kitang maging kaibigan. Marami ka pang dapat asikasuhin sa buhay mo. Tigilan mo na ako. Please lang. " (I don't want to be your friend. There are a lot of things you have to work on in your life. Leave me alone.)

He remained persistent, saying he still wanted to be her friend.

"Ano ba! Ayaw na nga kitang makausap. Ilang beses ka kung tumawag, ilang beses mag-text, ilang messages ang iniiwan mo sa machine ko araw-araw. Hindi naman kita sinasagot pero hindi ka pa rin makahalata. Gamitin mo naman yung utak mo. Kelan mo pa gagamitin yan???" (Don't you get it? I don't want to talk to you anymore. You call several times, you send numerous text messages, you keep leaving messages on my machine every day. I never reply but you still don't get it. Use your brain. When are you going to use it??)

The idiot wheedled, spewing extreme stupidity that enraged her even more.

"Alam mo, tigilan na natin to. Nagsasayang lang tayo ng oras. Wala ring mangyayari. Isa lang ang point ko - ayaw na kita makausap. Yun lang." (Let's stop this. We're just wasting time. Nothing's going to happen. I only have one point - I don't ever want to talk to you again. That's it.)

The battle continued for several minutes. The attacks were repetitive and started to become boring. Just as she was about to fall asleep, he quit. Shriveled up and died, she hoped.

Was still seething when she slammed the phone down. Then, the monster turned sheepish and whispered, "I've never been that nasty before." Her way of apology to her officemates who had been distracted from work.

One of them spoke up, "You were still nice, actually. I've experienced worse."

The monster smiled.
 
August 28, 2002

Say hello to the airhead

While we were safe and dry inside the AVR where we had our Photo Journalism class yesterday (Mr. Clean gave yet another lecture only Ruthie appreciated), it was raining buckets outside.

When Leidy, Patricia and I stepped out of class, we were surprised to hear students murmuring the same thing. "Baha na sa labas!" (It's flooded outside!)

While my friends expressed worry about the horrors we were about to face in our attempt to go home, I had only one thing on my mind.

"Oh no! Kakapa-pedicure ko pa lang..." (I just had a pedicure...)

My friends laughed at my twisted priorities.

Hello, bimbo-ville.

***

AND SO it was flooded out. After class, I said goodbye to my friends and met up with my cousin Fifi who goes to the same university and lives next door to me. If I was going to wade home, I didn't want to do it alone.

When we tried to decide what our battleplan was, we just agreed on one thing - we didn't want our feet to get wet. Told her we should probably go to a restaurant in Banawe and kill time while waiting for the flood to subside. Good plan - but we didn't know how to get there. The streets surrounding our school were all flooded. Hardly any cabs were on the road. The few we saw refused passengers. When vehicles surging through the water threatened to soak us for the nth time, we decided to take refuge inside Little Caesar's.

We called Fi's older sister who told us she couldn't pick us up. She couldn't take the car out because the flood in our street was too high. Frustrated, I SMSd Ruth. My message expressed one complete thought: waaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!

Turns out she, Lei and Gab were stuck in traffic just outside Little Caesar's. We decided to brave the flood together - in our own way.

We ended up in Don Henrico's in Banawe where we pigged out and laughed 'til we cried.

Fi and I finally got home at 11 p.m. last night. Fi's sister Chri greeted us at the gate. When I handed her the food we brought home, she exclaimed, "Parang hindi kayo binaha ah!"

If the stupid weather decides to mess with you and your plans, screw it back by having a blast.

That's what I call getting stranded with style.


***

GOODBYE, LA.

Am really not going. Told my editor yesterday that I didn't think I'd get my visa on time.

She told me to still work on it, just so I'd be ready the next time. "There would always be a next time," she said.

I just hope the next time would have absolutely nothing to do with Mandy fucking Moore.


***

JUST found out that I had been nominated in the Most Posts category of The Bloggys a month or so ago.

Hee.

I lost, but still, that was funny.

Thanks for the nomination, whoever you are.


***

DINNER is CPK's Original BBQ Chicken Chopped (minus the chicken, of course) and Spinach Artichoke Dip with blue and white tortilla chips.

Excellent.

Made even more so by Zesto's Dalandan Soda.

It's a must-try.
 
August 27, 2002

DON'T ask me to explain this.

***

HAVE abandoned thoughts of going to LA.

Should be leaving on Sunday but visa is still nowhere near done. Not that I've been working on it all that much. Have been too preoccupied to give it enough time and energy.

While going away has its pros [will get to spend time with friends/family I haven't seen in a while, will bring back good stories, will be able to shop like mad, will get the chance to take good photos, can bring pasalubong for the people I care for], now is just not the best time for me to leave.

Leaving on Sunday would most definitely mean that I won't be here to close next week's issue and I just don't think I'm ready for that. In the past couple of years that I've been handling the section, I've never been absent on a Monday - the day we close. Have given up travel opportunities, cut trips short or started them late in the past because I just couldn't be elsewhere while my section is being put together. My mind just couldn't deal with that. Plus, we are currently in the middle of working on an extra-special issue that will come out the week after next and I can't just abandon that. Have skipped too many classes too. Athough I'm sure I can get my professors to excuse my absence, I don't really want to miss school because we've got too many projects lined up. For me, traveling is always synonymous to shopping - and hitting LA means shelling out big bucks. I don't want to blow my computer fund on books, clothes and shoes. I'm not in the right state and disposition to travel either. I've been so tired - both in mind and body. Feel drained, actually. All I want to do is crawl into bed with JM and snuggle under his blanket.

The only reason I am still pursuing the approval of my visa - and half-heartedly, at that - is out of respect and appreciation for my editor who seemed so keen in sending me.

Thanks, ma'am. Your faith in me means so much more than me actually going on that trip.


***


BREAD'S Aubrey was softly playing on the radio the other night while I was in the car on the way to my mom's place.

I sat quietly at the back as mom started telling her half-sister how the song reminded her of a lost love.

She met him at a party when she was sixteen. Said that the guy started pursuing her but backed off when he realized that his friend had pursued her months before that.

The next time she saw him was six years later, when she was twenty-two. She was married by then and was holding two-year-old me by the hand while her old flame did nothing but watch her.

She sounded almost wistful as she spoke of that day. Not really a surprise. I'd sound wistful about any guy if I had married a scumbag like my father.

It's just funny how things turn out. Had things been different back then, she could have married that guy. Then some other girl could have been at the backseat the other night listening to her mother sound wistful about some other man - perhaps my father [although doubtful]. Or, my mother could have been in a car with her husband whom she met at a party when she was sixteen. And hearing Aubrey would bring forth good memories and not a persistent pinching.

Funny how a difference in that guy's decision could have changed my mother's entire future.

If he didn't back off, she could have married him.

If she married him, I wouldn't have been born.

If I hadn't been born, you wouldn't be reading this blog.


***

WHEN I was younger, I used to joke that if my family's story was to be turned into a Maalaala Mo Kaya episode, the title would be "Folder."

My parents have been separated for almost ten years now. Although they had been fighting [violently - screaming, grabbing, choking, knives, the works] about the tiniest things for years before their separation in June of 1993, the final straw was a stupid folder.

I was twelve then and was getting ready to start life in high school. It was a Sunday. We just arrived home from a full day at the mall where we shopped for school supplies, shoes, bags, accessories, etc. Mom spread out our purchases on their bed, checking if we got everything we needed. Seemed that my brother was lacking a folder.

My father entered the room. Mom asked him casually, "Did you see a folder?"

He exploded, just like that. "What?!? Are you saying I took it?? Are you blaming me??"

And they were off. Screaming and yelling so loud that you'd think they were getting paid by the decibel. Grabbed my brother and fled to the safe silence of my grandparents' home just above our place. Grandma and aunt rushed down to pacify them.

Not long after that, twelve-year-old Pammy approached her mother and said, "I know the only reason you've been staying here is so your kids wouldn't have to say they come from a broken home. But a broken home is better than seeing you a fight all the time. If you can't stand it anymore, leave."

So she did. So we did, actually.

Almost ten years later, their relationship is no better. They still scream at each other, they still treat each other like dirt. The distance has done them no good.

Soon, they'll be taking their battle to a higher ground - the courtroom.

I'd give anything not to be there.


***

AM HORRIFIED.

J is turning into a guy.

He has been spending a lot of time at gaming centers - places that ooze with testosterone. And, get this, he doesn't go there to check the guys out - he actually likes playing and enjoys kicking ass. At the office yesterday, he spent a lot of time reading up on game strategies, mumbling to himself about mines, monsters and powers. Scary.

From mahjong to this?

Now head is filled with disturbing images of J rushing to buy the newest issue of FHM, of him watching the fashion channel to look at the girls' bodies and not the clothes, of him not wanting to be Britney but wanting to do Britney.

Horrifying.

Should things progress as feared, expect me to drop dead straightaway.

J turning straight is just like having your mother tell you that she's a lesbian.


***

MY father expresses affection with money.

I recall sporadic hugs and dry pecks on his cheek but they were always awkward and coupled with me either grimacing or wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. And they were never done out of real affection - obligation, more like it.

Images of blows to my head or my then puny ass being whacked with belts or his eyeballs threatening to fall out and him spewing saliva as he screamed at me have taken the place of non-existent memories of physical affection.

He made up for everything with money.

During one particularly horrible fight with my mother, his apology came in the form of a huge gift - a monster karaoke system for her. It worked.

When he and mom separated, he used cash to make us feel his presence. His idea of fatherhood was taking me and my brother to the mall every Sunday for a full day of fun and spending - lunch, movie, arcade, shopping, dinner, more shopping. Every week. No fail.

But he soon outgrew that and started draining his bank account on girls. Perhaps he finally realized that his money wasn't enough to buy our love.

Too bad, though. I could have milked that for what it was worth.

"Your harsh words hurt me. I'll be scarred for life. What did you say? Toyota? I'm still in pain... Mitsubishi? *sniff* Honda? Hmmm. *sniffle* Ford? What kind? F150? Okay! Make it red!"

Then again, spending his money would mean spending time with him.

No thanks.
 
August 26, 2002


SPENT the night at mom's place and we didn't fight. Goody.

Have decided to suspend my computer purchase. Am giving her capital for her small food business.

"Lending," is her chosen term for it because she keeps saying she will return the money. She really doesn't have to.

Anything to get her mind off the lawsuit. Anything to get her to talk about things other than the lawsuit.


***

My ultimate birthday wishlist

Note to my loved ones [or those who love me, rather]: you are not to buy anything on this list. Stealing is okay, though. Hee.

1] moonpools and caterpillars' lucky dumpling CD
2] alanis morissette's jagged little pill CD
3] alisha's attic's live cut of angel eyes
4] new PC
5] digicam
6] notebooks
7] friends VCDs
8] red F150
9] the Apple Icebook
10] purple Doc Martens
11] trip to India
12] purple Pilot signpens
13] spa treatment
14] Dymocks shopping spree
15] a gorgeous kaftan, similar to Heather Graham's in Killing Me Softly
16] bead curtains
17] my own flat
18] lifetime supply of Cibo's spinach dip, LA Cafe's spinach pizza and Don Henrico's tomato basil spaghetti and onion rings
19] a pet pig
20] my diploma
21] cable internet
22] an archive system that works properly
23] a gun
24] a bodyguard


***

I wanna get sick with you...

That's the sweetest twisted thing I've ever heard.

***

ANG ganda nito.





August 25, 2002

FOUND out that the camera our paper's chief of photographers lent me to take pictures for my photo journalism class is worth P270,000.

Felt weak at the knees when I heard that.

I was lugging it around the entire day Monday and had no idea it costs that much. Now it's back safe with him again. And as much as I loved it, I don't think I'd like to use it again.

Shit. Thank god I didn't drop it.


***

I SHARE my bed with this gorgeous girl.

my sweet lilo

***

SPENT nine hours at Shopwise today, bagging groceries.

Good news: I didn't break anything. Hee.

My little stint is just a tiny part of an issue my section will be coming out with soon. Am soooo excited.

So far, though, have nothing to show for my efforts but aching feet and a cut on my hand.

Really should get started on my article.


***

I MISS this. :(

 
August 24, 2002

HAVE just given birth.

Labor started at 3 a.m. and lasted for nine hours. Spent the first three hours struggling but goddamn baby wouldn't come out. Started drifting in and out of consciousness until weary body finally gave in. Stayed unconscious until 9 a.m. Then I started pushing. Hard. Really really hard. Wanted to get it out of me. Wanted the ordeal to end. Was exhausted but kept at it. Hell was over by noon. By then, I was a mother.

Nine hours of pain produced a healthy 11-page investigative paper on NSTP.

Am just glad it's over.


***

PRESS Ethics exams were returned. Results were a major surprise.

I got 72 out of a possible 75 - equivalent to 96%.

Not bad. To think that 1] I only attended class twice before the exams and 2] I felt almost drunk while taking the test.

Goody.
 
August 23, 2002

FEEL free to criticize the writing that I get paid for. I wouldn't stop you. I owe it to my readers to be kicked in the face if I start serving them garbage.

But acting like Mr. God-of-the-Written-Word and criticizing the writing I do only to please myself is like complaining about the way a prostitute masturbates.
 
August 22, 2002

THERE is a reason why...

... I always have an extra mobile phone in my bag, one I can hand over to a robber without blinking.

... the top item on my shopping list is pepper spray.

... I've been dreaming of owning a small gun I can carry everywhere.

... I watch crime shows and keep track of the plate numbers of cab drivers who have raped passengers.

... I ride only cabs from the biggest taxi companies at night.

... I have been reading up on self-defense.

... the tiniest noise makes me jump up and tiptoe out of my room, recorder/back-scratcher/umbrella in hand, to check if someone has broken into our house.

... I don't like riding jeeps or buses.

... I am wary of anyone I cross paths with.

... I make sure I appear mad enough to kill when I'm walking outside alone in hopes that the deranged look on my face would ward off potential assailants.

... I walk around constantly clutching my bag.

... images of me getting stabbed or shot in the head flash in my mind every now and then.

... I flinch when a stranger brushes against me even in the slightest way.

... I hardly ever let my guard down.

... the emergency number is on my mobile's speed dial.

... paranoia seems to be the only acceptable state of mind.

We are living in scary times.


***

RU, it was only yesterday that I realized how much I depend on our weekly talks to maintain my sanity. Don't disappear on me like that again. Or if you're going to, at least shout out a warning so I can work harder on keeping my balance.

See you next week, I hope.
 
August 21, 2002

Scenes from a police station

We were in Jollibee for a quick stomach fix after class (I was trying to convince the girl behind the counter to find a way to serve me meat-free noodles), unaware that Patricia was being robbed just a block away from us. She was in such a hurry to get home after our class ended at 9 that she went off alone and became an easy target for that lowlife.

She went to Jollibee, pale and shaking. "Na-hold-up ako," were her first words, before breaking down in tears.

After calming her down, the group sprung into action. Ruthie, Gabby and Leidy went around the area, hoping to find the robber. I called the emergency number and was told by a woman more hysterical than I was that we should go to the police station to report the crime. Lei took charge of wrapping our uneaten food so we could take them with us. Kathy stayed beside Patricia the whole time, talking to her, letting her drink, just soothing her. Even the security guard stepped in, asking what had happened. The entire place had gone quiet, with patrons all watching us. Ruthie, Gabby and Leidy talked to members of the barangay patrol and asked them for help. As expected, the man was no longer in the area.

We all went to the police station to file a report. Leidy's dad went with us. Patricia gave her statement while we looked around the place. I shuddered while looking at a poster of some of this country's most wanted criminals.

I sat on a bench and the woman sitting next to me turned and asked if I was with Patricia. I nodded and she said, "Sabi ko sa kaibigan mo huwag nang isipin yung phone niya. Ang mahalaga ang kalusugan niya. Tingnan mo naman ang anak ko, nabugbog." (I told your friend not to think about her phone any more. The important thing is that she didn't get hurt. Look at my son, he got beaten up.)

The woman's son, who is a Science major at our university, was also there reporting a crime. He was on his way home when two men started kicking him and hitting him with bats. Apparently, one of the men mistook him as the suitor of his estranged wife. His mom told me how he was all bloody earlier and how he was rushed to the university hospital. It's a good thing they had a witness and they were able to identify the assailants. They're taking the case to court, despite the men's offers to settle it without lawyers.

There was a commotion inside the police station. A group of men filled up the station's tiny hall. They brought in a sweaty, muddy man by the collar. He looked like he was in pain. "Ahh, nang-hold-up siguro tapos nabugbog," I said to my friends. (He's probably a robber and was beaten up.)

But he wasn't just beaten up. His foot was all bloody. I felt no compassion for him, only disgust at the fact that he was soiling the station's floors with his blood. Criminals like him deserve so much more than that.

The story behind the man's bloody foot was interesting. Yesterday, he stole a young guy's phone. The guy followed him to his house, took note of where the robber lived and returned the next day with the police. When he tried to flee, they shot his foot. Ha.

We were so impressed we wanted to shake the guy's hand.

We looked through photos of criminals and were horrified to discover that there were tons of them in the area. Patricia found one picture that resembled the robber.

My friends and I are currently planning revenge. Nothing would please us more than to be able to beat that ass to a bloody pulp.


***

An adorable chubby little kid was at the police station. He was the brother of the guy who was beaten up. Ruthie and I started bugging him. He refused to tell us his name. He finally gave in when we showed no signs of stopping. "V-a-n," he said, pronouncing every letter. It was hard to get information out of him but Ruthie and I persisted. He alternated between scrunching his cute face up in exasperation and flashing his dimples at us. He was seven and in second grade. "Where do you study?" I asked. His mom answered for him, smiling. "La Salle." I told him I'd visit him in his school and he growled at me. Hee. I wanted to take that kid home.

***

THIS is shaping up to be a pretty rotten day.

Had been trying to work out the logistics of an upcoming feature with the marketing people of a mall. They've strung me along for days before slapping me with a big fat "no." It had been heavily sugarcoated but a "no" is a fucking "no," no amount of bullshit can cover that up. You can be sure I'll make their heads spin in regret that they chickened out on me.

I got an annoying e-mail.

I didn't see Ru today. This is the first Wednesday in weeks that we didn't meet to talk.

My visa is nowhere near done.

I've been in the office for five hours and I haven't done any proper work.

I feel utterly useless.

***

Christmas in August

A catering team took over our newsroom and whipped up an excellent buffet for the lucky people still in the office.

Plates piled with roast beef, buttered vegetables, Caesar salad, fresh fruits and cakes were brought to our cubicle along with bottles of red and white wine. Mood instantly turned festive as people distributed utensils, dug in and hollered to those passing by to stop and eat.

"Parang Pasko ah!" someone exclaimed. (It feels like Christmas!)

Chito clicked on his Christmas playlist in Winamp and we roared with laughter, mouths stuffed full of goodies.

Yeah, it almost feels like Christmas.

I feel better already.
 
August 20, 2002

I MISS playing in front of an audience.

***

AWWW. Thanks so much, Din. That's so sweet.


***

OUR COOK and my bank teller could be sisters.

They're both dark, with an evil glint in their big dark eyes. And they are similar in disposition. Both moody. Extremely so. On good days, they smile at you widely, the glint in their eyes disappearing to be replaced by a starry shine. On bad days, beware. They always look about ready to kill.

I keep my distance. Just get what I need - money from my teller, food from our cook -and flee for life.


***

my happy beads
 
August 19, 2002

THERE is a reason why I have long been seeking independence, why I've distanced myself and have tried to prove I can make my own decisions.

I can't stand having someone constantly breathing down my neck.

I hope she realizes that in this lifetime.


***

Tattoo issue not yet over

Conversation between my mother and brother.

Mom: "May bagong law, lahat ng may tatoo huhulihin." (There's a new law. Anyone who has a tattoo will be jailed.)
Bro: "Hindi na ako bata, hindi niyo na ako mauuto." (I'm not a kid anymore, you can't fool me.)
Mom: "Hingi ka muna ng vote kung sino papayag na may tattoo ka." (Ask people to vote first.)
Bro: "Hay naku." (*bro sighed loudly*)
Mom: "Kung si Pam magpapatattoo papayag ka?" (Would you let Pam get a tattoo?)
Bro: "Hindi naman siya magpapatattoo." (She doesn't want one.)
Mom: "Kunyare nga." (Let's just say she wants one.)
Bro: "Oo." (Then yes.)
Mom: "Bakit?" (Why?)
Bro: "Expression yun eh." (It's a form of expression)
Mom: "Magmura ka na lang nang magmura. Expression na rin yun." (Just keep cussing, that's a form of expression too.)


***

A FRIEND just got back from the US yesterday. Said that his trip had been traumatic and that he wouldn't be going back there any time soon.

Wonder what his definition of "traumatic" is.

Knowing him, I've come up with a few possibilities.

a] He was ravaged by a wild female and left drained and unconscious.

b] His girlfriend found out he's been playing around.

c] The girls he's been playing around with found out he has a girlfriend.

d] His girlfriend made true on her constant threats to break up with him.

e] He didn't get any modeling stints.

f] He was homesick and missed Megamall and Glorietta to the point of insanity.

We shall see.

Can't wait for the juicy details.


***

WITH his arrival came a career opportunity.

Tarot reader is even better than I thought - he said this was going to happen.

Might just consider it.


***

SPENT the night at mom's. Was about time - she's been cranking up the guilt machine. Plus, was struck when someone said to me, "You're not close to your mom, are you?"

Actually, I am - err, was.

She used to be pretty cool. Used to sing along to No Doubt, used to like going out a lot. Had a nightlife with my mom before my classmates knew what nightlife was. We used to watch bands. She used to watch our band rehearsals and tell us what we were doing wrong. We used to get lost in Hong Kong at 1 a.m. We wrestled and tickled each other a lot. There was a time she woke me my brother up in the middle of the night for a surprise trip to Subic. She drove there, we hung out, ate and were back in Manila after sunrise. We used to play pictionary, used to go shoe-shopping. There was a time we bought all sorts of popsicles and ice cream treats and ate them in one majorly gooey go. We liked laughing. We made fun of my father. I used to tell her everything.

Now, when she speaks, it's always about the lawsuit. The case this, the case that - I am sick of it. When I hear about it, I feel my chest tightening, like I almost couldn't breathe. Hate it. Absolutely.

So I hardly ever go home to her place - my way of stabilizing myself. But I know she misses me. And I miss her too - the old her. So this morning, after drying my hair, I walked up to her and hugged her and kissed her. At that short moment, I felt like things were going to be alright.

Until she dropped the bomb.

She wants to set me up with her lawyer.

Perhaps she should know I'm already spoken for.


***

SOMEONE sent me flowers.

The receptionist called me as the delivery boy was persistent that they were handed straight to me and not left in the office lobby. Funny but I found the delivery receipt interesting.

One elegant arrangement of fresh cut 3 stems white

roses, long stemmed in a special box presentation

***S P E C I A L *** S P E C I A L ***

This is a quality order from ___________

I know who sent the roses. There was no message on the card, just his name.

Refreshing to receive flowers from someone who is not using them as a last-ditch effort to resuscitate a dead relationship. In fact, for some reason, I feel like he sent them to say goodbye.

Thanks, Teej.

I know you'll have a good life ahead of you.
 
August 18, 2002


WATCHED today's UAAP game live - we won!

NU put up a good fight - the last quarter was really tense. Was exhausted from all the cheering and jumping. Left the place red-faced and sweaty. Felt like I played.

Am so glad the game didn't go overtime - my heart wouldn't have survived.


***

THE FEU-Ateneo game was even more exciting.

Victory was almost Ateneo's when one guy's killer three-point shot led to overtime.

FEU ended up winning.

Ang lupit mo, Santos.


***

IT was our male reporter's birthday yesterday. He took his birthday leave today but left a cooler full of ice and beer in the office for our team to enjoy. But since the boys know I can't stand the taste of beer, they thoughtfully got punch spiked with gin for me.

Pretty good stuff, once diluted with tons of ice.

Good thing page one has been closed. Don't even want to imagine how the paper would look when produced under the influence of alcohol.
 
August 16, 2002


TALKING about the hypothetical end this early on is too much exercise for my already overworked heart.

Let's not.


***

SHOULD things go right, I'll be in LA first week of September.

Just for five or six days but still, should be fun.

***

JUST over a week ago, things were completely different.

I'd arrive home really late, after a day punctuated by sporadic SMS from various people, the red blinking button of my answering machine being the first thing to greet me. I'd press it and listen to the messages while getting out of my clothes. The machine would usually be full of messages from people I don't want to hear from, from people who became the reason I started screening my calls. I'd erase the contents of the machine and don't bother calling anyone back. I'd arrive home knowing no one was waiting for me, unless I had scheduled to chat with a friend after getting home from work. I'd go online and stay connected while taking a shower. Then I'd sit like a zombie in front of the PC. I'd blog, e-mail, talk to my friends who are online, blog, e-mail, until my eyes and back couldn't take it anymore. Then I'd read or watch TV until I fall asleep. The next day I'd wake up at the latest possible time and then turn my house upside down while rushing for work or school.

That was my life. But things have changed.

***

HILARIOUS find in National Bookstore's sale - "How To Lose a Guy In Ten Days." (Thanks for pointing it out to me, Ruthie.) Bought it and had a good laugh. The book basically gives you step-by-step instructions on how to lose a guy right from the moment you meet him. There were things like: "Name his penis." "Accuse him of flirting with the waitress. Ask him if he thinks she's prettier than you." "Ask him if he thinks you're fat." "Drive by his house - more than once." "Tell him he reminds you of your dad." "Call his mom and introduce yourself." "After sex, cry." The stick drawings were as funny as the text.

When you think about it, it all boils down to one thing - setting limits. Just knowing when to stop, where to draw the line.

Thought it would be fun to come up with my own list.

How to lose me in ten days - or less

1] Never stop talking about my breasts.

2] Tell me to go on a diet.

3] Don't read my work.

4] Spit on the street.

5] Ask me when we're getting married.

6] Call my mother.

7] Start thinking you can tell me what to do.

8] Force me to eat meat.

9] Bad-mouth Alanis.

10] Don't stop talking about your exes.

11] Fool around with someone else.

12] Drop my calls.

13] Tell me there is such a thing as too much manicures and pedicures.

14] Break your promises.

15] Hack my e-mail account.

16] Insult my friends.

17] Tell me to stop blogging.

18] Lie to me.

19] Be vain. Be very vain.

20] Make me feel ugly.

21] Don't eat.

22] Hit me.

23] Do not respect my work.

24] Tell me to change my hair.

25] Say I have too many shoes.

26] Be uptight.

27] Make me choose between you and my work.

28] Pronounce "H" as "ech."

29] Show me the teeniest sign of homophobia.

30] Show me the teeniest sign of homosexuality.

A lot of the things in this list would not only mean losing me but would also earn you a beating you will never forget.

***

The past is flashing before my eyes

Received an SMS this afternoon asking me to identify "which Pam" I am. According to the sender [let's call him Chuck], he had forgotten who I was because only my first name was in his phone book. Was surprised as I had erased his number from my book ages ago.

In most cases, someone forgetting about me would have been an insult. But this time I was thankful. Him forgetting meant he didn't hold a grudge. Because he should have.

Last year, a friend was planning to set me up with his officemate Chuck. My friend and I were talking on ICQ when he told me to look at the guy's pic online.

"Kamukha siya ni [name of an aesthetically-challenged-but-brave-as-hell TV reporter]," I messaged.

My friend replied. "Dahan-dahan, andito siya sa tabi ko." [Be careful, he's beside me now.]

Oooops.

Heard he got pissed. I apologized. We started communicating - via ICQ and SMS - but we never really hit it off. Guess you could say we got off on the wrong foot - thanks to my idiocy.

Finally got to meet him weeks later. He did not resemble Mr. TV reporter in anyway. Chuck turned out to be a cool guy - he was fun, funny and an ass-kicking web designer who also did major kicking in the looks department.

We could have been friends. But now that's done.

If you ever get to read this [I know you probably wouldn't], I'm sorry.

I'm still biting my tongue - err, finger, rather.

***

WAS struggling to finish a paper for Sports Journalism in a net cafe near school. The people around me did not make it easy.

A group of male students just a couple of feet away were loudly discussing Heather Graham's role in Killing Me Softly.


Guy 1: "Ang pokpok, pare! Nagkatinginan lang, sumama agad! Pwede ba yun?" (What a slut, man! They looked at each other and they just went at it! Is that possible?)

Guy 2: "Oo pwede yun!" (Yeah, it's possible!)

Guy 1: "Hindi pwede yun! Nangyayari ba yun?" (That's impossible! Does that happen?)

Guy 3: "Pwede yun!" (It happens!)

Guy 1: "Baka sa kanila pwede yun pero dito hindi pwede yun! Nagkatinginan lang..." (Well, maybe for them but that won't happen here. Just one look...)

Guy 3: "Pwede rin yun dito! Tingnan mo si ano...." (It happens here! Look at....")

[Laughter]

Guy 1: "Pang-mayaman lang yun, pare!" (That's only for rich people, man!)

Guy 2: "O basta ba pag tiningnan ka kamukha mo si Aga Mulach eh!" (Or if they look at you and see that you look like Aga Mulach)

[Laughter]

A girl sat next to me, with a guy on her other side. Guy was evidently wooing her - whispering so loudly I could hear him too.


Guy: "Sige na, tayo na ulit." (Let's get back together, please.)
Girl: "Shhhh."
Guy: Sige na... (Please...)
Girl: "Shhhh."



Hahaha.

Thank God my professor was late.
 
August 15, 2002

MR. FAKE German is saying goodbye. Finally.

He had a few points to make.

"I didn't represent that i was a german national I just represented that I must be sired by one, just like the concept of being alone and unwanted."

"What i want to pull? The idea of seeking redemption, you say sorry for forgiveness, acceptance and pardon. Basically the forgiveness is what i want, though they are synonyms of course there is a reason why the forgiveness word and all it's many tensed forms is the most likely used."

"You reminded me someone who i cared for a long time ago, same domestic problems as you do and perhaps even worse, same attitude, but not the same name, or the
same face. I sorely missed her, and you don't know her."

"I write to you someday again, for whatever reason it may be is totally irrelevant. I cannot vouch for things that are to happening in the days to come."

Screw me but I understood zilch.

You. Don't. Know. Me. Leave. Me. Alone. Siguraduhin mong huli na yan.

***

WAS good to read you again, Nic.

***

Since our Features Writing professor (who happens to be one of the desk editors for my section) is still right in the middle of going through the first draft of the articles that will be the equivalent of preliminary exams in his subject, we were given the day off.

Ruthie, Leidy, Patwee, Shayn, Lei and I decided to go to school and take photos for our Photo Journalism class. But the weather didn't cooperate so we abandoned our cameras and watched a movie instead.

***

Killing Me Softly sucked big time.

***

I have a Lilo doll!

Finally, finally!

The bagger, who was a complete bitch, almost ruined the experience for me.

I queued up, handed Lilo to the cashier carefully, like a mother handling her newborn infant. After swiping my sweet new doll, she passed Lilo on to the witch behind her. The witch held Lilo at arm's length, scrunched up her nose and said, "Bakit kaya mabili to? Ang pangit naman." (Why are people buying this doll? It's ugly.)

I gritted my teeth and said, "Maganda kasi yung movie." (The movie was nice.)

What I really wanted to say was, "Mas maganda siya sa'yo." (She's prettier than you.)

She proceeded to chatter, "Ahh, napanood niyo na po?" (You've seen it already?)

I merely pursed my lips. But the witch wasn't done yet. Just as she was wrapping Lilo up, she said, "After one month mas mura na to. Mahal pa ngayon kasi uso eh." (After one month, the price will go lower. It's still expensive now because it's still hot.)

Wanted to say, "Ikaw ba gusto mong makabenta?" (Are you sure you should be in the selling business?) but I bit back my tongue.

I gave her the evil eye, grabbed the bag containing my precious Lilo and walked away. If I didn't want the doll so bad I would have smacked her with it and left.

What an idiot. With salespeople like her, I'm not surprised this country's economy is going to the dogs.


***

Rosa, wish to engage you in a conspiracy to shake that annoying runt off and free the world from his presence - if you're talking about who I think you're talking about.
 
August 14, 2002

2 a.m. Just snuck back into my room. You appreciate the convenience of having a passageway from your house's terrace to your cousins' bedroom when it's all flooded outside.

Spent a few hours at Chri and Fi's place. What had originally been planned as band rehearsal turned into a major gabfest. We did plan our lineup for my birthday party, listened to the audio of our last gig and were able to practice a few songs but we spent most of the time talking while munching on chewy chocolate chip cookies.

Had an excellent time although my ass hurts now - sat on their hardwood floor too long.

***

CHRI and Fi's mom - one of my favorite aunts - left for the US recently. She'll be staying there for a while. Was surprised to discover that she left me her silver bracelet that I used to admire. That was really sweet.


***

SPENT quite a lot of time talking about our childhood. How things were much simpler then, back when all our parents' marriages were still intact, when everyone still got along with everyone else, when our lives were made interesting by dolls and imaginary friends.

Chri had a monkey called Monchichi who was so special he came with a framed picture.

Fi's imaginary friend was Puccinelli Ducci, a cute little poodle she liked drawing all the time.

My favorite doll was Bebesito, a life-sized baby who looked and sounded real [he could cry at the press of a teeny button hidden in his back]. My stepgrandpa [who spoiled me to death] gave him to me when I was a toddler. Bebesito looked so real that one night, when my mom was pregnant with my brother, we played a prank on our maids, pretending that my mom had a premature birth. You should have heard the maids' screams over Bebesito's loud wails.

I also had two imaginary friends - Popo and Momo.

***

CHRI, Fi and I also spent time plotting against an ugly evil troll. We thought about making a porn site with her face plastered all over, burning her house down and sending her food sprinkled with poison.

Could just work.

***

ON TOP of our evil plans for revenge, we're planning to have a dinner party soon. Currently discussing the menu and type of wine. Poison will most definitely not be involved.

I don't like wine, though.

***

MORE GOOD news.

Adelle is pregnant too.

Life is wonderful.
 
August 13, 2002

WORDS from yesterday's tarot reader.

"There's a guy. You've been friends with him for a while but lately things have changed. You're not in a relationship yet but it feels that way sometimes. Events in the next few months will bring you even closer. Things will work out between you and this guy. Just be patient."

"Three or four years from now, you will receive a marriage proposal. You will actually think about accepting it, but the guy would want you to give up your career for marriage. Think about it hard before saying yes because you will not be happy if you give up your career."

"You will have two children, a boy and a girl."

"There are career opportunities for you. A man has approached you and this opportunity means a larger compensation for you. There will be other opportunities. You need to reflect and decide what you really want. You are comfortable and happy with the job that you have now. But there will be other opportunities that will make you think."

"A relative of yours has been convincing you to try and start a career abroad. But you do not seem to want that now."

"You will graduate in March. There's one subject with a male professor that you are worried about but you will easily overcome that."

"There's nothing wrong with your health. But you need to rest."

"You will live a long life."

"You are very stable. You may experience problems but you always remain firm and tell yourself that things will get better. This isn't common. Most people get rattled easily. You don't."

We'll see.


***

The 'Temptation Island' syndrome

In the first season of Temptation Island, the females were each asked to choose the girl they believed was the biggest threat to their relationship, the girl their mate would most likely be attracted to. The chosen girls were to be blocked from dating the partners of those who picked them.

But the block only works for dates and the men are allowed to mingle with any of the single women in the island the rest of the time. Soon it was clear that the men gravitated towards the women their partners thought would threaten what they had.

Makes sense, when you think about it. The man would probably wonder, what's in her that makes my girlfriend insecure? What's there about her that makes my girlfriend think she can take me away from her? What's so special about her that my girlfriend thinks I'd be attracted to her? And when he tries to find the answers, that's when trouble begins.

This phenomenon is not only limited to reality TV. This phenomenon can become too real at times.

***

Here's a Maui classic:

"One day, every girl's prince will come. Ours just took a wrong turn, got lost and is too stupid to ask for directions."


August 12, 2002

SINCE there was nothing to shoot at the Boardwalk for our Photo Journ class, Ruthie, Kathy, Patwee, Leidy, Lei and I went to Manila Zoo to look for better subjects.

Though we were hardly able to take photos (I only took one picture of a tiger) because it started raining, our zoo trip was pretty cool. The sad orangutan called Nancy and the elephant were adorable.

Just couldn't get why they had a Michael Jackson album blaring out from speakers all over the zoo.

What's up with that?


***

MY TRANSFORMATION into a college student would have been miserable if it weren't for the FOX team.

The name was taken from the title of the sex magazine (of course, what else?) we produced last year for our final project in Lifestyle Writing.

Ruthie, Kathy, Gabby, Patwee, Leidy, Lei, Shayn make school bearable for me. More than bearable, actually. Fun, even.

Would have missed out on a lot of things if I decided to stick to my original plan when I first when back to school - sit at the back alone and not talk to anyone. Like all of us screaming along to way excellent songs while packed inside Ruthie's car. Or us laughing at Leidy's faux Brit accent. Or us picking on Gabby. Or them coming over my place to watch movies that either make us cry or gush. Or us skipping class to go to the mall. Or us making grand plans for the future.

Love you guys.


***


AM a bad person who ate squid.

Well, not exactly.

Had takoyaki balls for lunch with my friends. Although I sliced the balls open (say "ouch", guys) and scraped the little bits of squid off before eating, stomach still felt awfully unsettled. Wasn't really the takoyaki, was mostly guilt.

Feel wretched.

Shall do good deeds to make up for my indiscretion.

A few possibilities:

1] Shall help elderly people cross the street. Then again, am not an expert street-crosser and attempt might result in having elderly people squashed to death by huge trucks.

2] Shall plant ten trees.

3] Shall recycle.

4] Shall visit prisoners.

5] Shall look for a man for J.

6] Shall read to the blind.

7] Shall donate clothes to the Salvation Army.

8] Shall be a volunteer firefighter.

9] Shall present self for scientific experiments.

10] Shall make up with my enemies... nah, forget it.


***


HAPPY birthday, Gab.


***


YET ANOTHER sign that my friends are blog addicts.

Kathy, while preparing her camera for today's supposed photo session: "Ano ba yung site meter? Ano ba yung site meter?" (What's a site meter? What's a site meter?)

She meant light meter.


***

J, Maui and I were discussing what we'd be like if we were all straight males.

We predict that he'd be vain, a gym nut, a player who goes into chatrooms to meet little girls and a homophobic.

I'd be cocky and, in Maui's words, "as in sobrang player, sobra, goes through girls just like a normal guy goes through issues of FHM and secretly watches Sex and the City to understand women better." She is also convinced that I would not be dense.

Maui says she'd be gay.
 
August 11, 2002

Mornings change everything.

During bleak nights made heavier by problems, I usually tell myself, "Sleep it off, things will look better in the morning." And for some unknown reason, things usually do seem better after shut-eye. Dawn brings with it magic that clears my head, magic that tells me exactly what I should do.

During nights of getting drunk and stupid, or letting myself get carried away, mornings are less welcome. Dread waking up to that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Dawn brings with it the realization of the idiocy of the previous night's actions, the twinge of regret at knowing that what's done has been done and cannot be erased.

And so I've tried to teach myself to be patient. To wait for mornings to pass before making life-altering changes. Not to make rash decisions in the middle of the night when my sensibility might be clouded by the darkness outside, not to make moon-influenced choices I would want to shake off the next day.

Because mornings change everything.

Well, maybe not everything.

Was afraid to wake up today because I didn't know how I would feel about last night's emotions. Was afraid that I would lose grasp of what seemed so important, of what could possibly be the one thing that could finally straighten me out. Was afraid of never feeling that kind of happiness again.

My fears were unfounded. Because sunlight just reaffirmed what happened last night. What seemed special is now absolute in beauty. The nagging questions have given way to the purity of my feelings. Woke up feeling even happier, with emotions so intense my chest feels ready to explode.

This is just so right. This might just be perfect.

And I would do everything in my power to try and make sure things stay that way.

***

The Artist Formerly Known As Prince knows his shit

When you are equipped with breasts and a vagina - whether biological or imagined - the need to be desired is innate. You shop, groom yourself, make yourself a permanent fixture in your favorite salon to make yourself look presentable. Apart from wanting to feel good about yourself, you want to be adored - whether you admit it or not.

You expect this adoration to be bestowed upon you by your mother and the men you would have in your life. You've had a checklist of qualities you want in a man since you were a little girl and you can rattle them off in a snap. But something usually remains unsaid. The little box that says you want someone who would worship your every pore and see art in your movement. Someone who would stare at you as you walk across a room and then say, "She's the only one I want." Someone who can be with you in a room full of perfect female prototypes and still have eyes only for you. Someone who couldn't keep himself from touching your hair or stroking your cheek. Someone who would notice how your earrings light your whole face up or how your new shoes accentuate your shapely legs. Someone who could see you when you get out of bed all droopy-eyed and your hair a tangled mess and still think, "My god, she looks like an angel."

Given that gift, you wouldn't mind if the rest of the world thinks you're ugly as hell. You're gorgeous in the eyes of the one you love and that's all that matters.

This is why you can't be with someone who doesn't think you're the most beautiful woman in the world.
 
August 10, 2002

Watched the premiere of Lilo & Stitch with friends last night.

Loooooooove Lilo. She's feisty - a girl after my own heart.

After the movie, we went to Outback for an extremely late dinner.

Enjoyed the food and conversation so much that I didn't realize it was raining outside. Discovered that my area was flooded - big effing surprise. So got home drenched with my poor, gorgeous fuck-me witch boots assaulted by murky water.

Stripped as soon as I got inside the house, leaving everything wet in the stairwell. Jumped into the shower and scrubbed vigorously. Then poured one bottle of alcohol all over myself. Now am sniffling - have a cold. Don't care, though. Am in such high spirits that no amount of rain/flood/mucus could get me down.

Na-miss ka namin, J.


***

E the idiot on my machine:

"Magparamdam ka naman o. Feeling ko iniiwasan mo na ako eh." (I'd like to hear from you. I think you've been avoiding me.)

Wow. Took you long enough. Glad your brain has finally processed that little factoid. Congratulations. Now scram.

***

LOGGING off right in the middle of a heated conversation or after making a snide remark is the online equivalent of walking away or slamming the phone down on someone.

Perhaps less forceful, but equally offensive.

***

I KNEW it was you masquerading as someone else. The horrible grammar tipped me off.

Shoo.

***

YET another sign that this world is screwed up.

People I couldn't care less about keep convincing themselves that they have the power to hurt me.

People who actually have that power couldn't care less about it.

***

"IT'S YOUR game now. Hell, it was never mine. You hold the switch, you just turned it off. It's dark and I can't feel you..."


***

When you fall in love, you give a person power. What terrifies me is that you have absolutely no control if this person will use that power to make you happy or crush you completely.


***

Am scared of letting myself go again. Am terrified that it's going to hurt like hell.

***

MY MOTHER calls the men in my past my "victims". Not exactly what I want to hear from the woman who gave birth to me. I have to admit, though, that I cannot blame her.

Am not one to moan to my mom about men who have wronged me. Would never run to her crying about some guy. Why would I add my guy troubles to her already long list of anxieties? I like letting her see my strong side. Let her view me as a pillar of sorts, someone she can lean on during her weakest moments. How can she do that when she sees me getting all broken over some loser? So she doesn't.

So she hasn't heard about the one who harassed me or the one who was evidently two-timing me. She has no knowledge of the one who abused my bank account or the one who screwed another girl because I wouldn't put out. She knows nothing about the one who never told me I was actually woman #2 until it was too late. Nothing about the one who will soon become a priest.

What she's heard are their moans, their pleas - when they call her after I dump them. She imagines their tears cascading down their desperate cheeks and her heart breaks. She tells them, "I wish I can change her mind but she's stubborn." When she asks me about them, I only say, "I got sick of it." And she goes on thinking that her daughter likes breaking poor men's hearts, that her daughter is a man-eater.

They may be victims but they're not mine, mom. They are casualties of their own doing.

They just got what they deserved.
 
August 9, 2002

MY GLORIOUS trip to the mall ended with me being miserable.

Skipped the movie, had a meatless dinner at Outback, dessert at Haagen Dazs and blogged in Universe before burning cash at the Percussion Freaks machine in Time Zone. I was alone and completely happy.

Then I decided I wanted to go home. Hailed a cab - and that's when trouble started.

Damn the otherwise good driver for listening to a radio station that spewed one mushy song after another. You surged on, overtaking huge trucks, taking me along on what seemed to be your frantic search for an early and painful death. You hit the gas and swerved left and right, oblivious to the fact that the music you're listening to had turned your passenger into a blubbering mass of flesh.

Damn the DJ of that radio station. You were sitting inside your cold and comfy booth, popping in song after song, not knowing that your selection was having a horrid effect on an individual who had to sit through your set without a choice.

Damn me for not bringing my Discman and angry chick CDs that would have protected me from such torture.

Damn Glorietta for not keeping their stores open until midnight. Could have turned back and shopped my pain away.

Damn the countless kissy-huggy couples I encountered - including the sweet men who tenderly held on to each other while crossing the street. You rubbed my solitude in like rock salt on a deep gash.

Damn the losers who have killed the romantic in me. Your pathetic antics brought out my cynicism. May your eternal happiness depend on whether you've stocked up on Viagra or not.

Damn him for rousing my wistfulness. Your presence has stirred up that part of me that still believes I will find someone I am bound to stay happy with for the rest of my life.

Damn me for hoping that that someone would be him.


***

"I WANTED to understand why these people [journalists] risk their lives to bring us news when we don't even pay attention."

--- Amy Eldon, sister of Dan Eldon, in Oprah

I want his book.


***

THE RESULTS are in, finally.

Negative.

Mom's lump has completely disappeared. Has probably popped up in the testes of any of the numerous assholes that this world has gotten tired of.

My mother has gone back to her stubborn self and is now refusing to undergo more tests.

Hate hate hate that my mother is as bull-headed as I am. Now I know where my brother and I got that from.
 
August 8, 2002

THANKS to some saint's holy existence, we don't have classes today.

Am traipsing over to the mall lest I spend my whole day at home, lusting over someone's hot-ass photos.

Will eat, watch a movie and maybe blow time and money in time zone. Oh yeah, and no shopping. Will come home with zero shopping bags. Really.

Good plan.


***

"..tell her that i'll continue to find a way for her to be proud of me ... am not expecting that now ... but i'll try my best .. and i'll make her proud of me .. one of these days..."


***

IN my inbox:

[unedited, obviously]

"Okay you win always. I am james Gulden, I have a german descent by my
father's line, I guess you haven't seen me or knew me before. Sorry, but really does who i am matter to you?. I just say that you already know me because i want to get your attention...Really what you say matters to me."

Ack!


***

Okay, am off to Glorietta now.


***

STRANGE thought popped into my head while I was getting ready to go out.

One day I will unknowingly get dressed for my death.


***

CAUGHT Moonstar 88's video on MYX the other day. Was left with one question.

Yeah. Does the mailman get any mail?

***

"SHE stings bad, just like bees."



***

"TO THE romantic, men and women spend time together, put their arms around each other, hold hands, sleep together and live together because they love each other. To the cynic, they do these things to stake a claim on each other and to advertise to the world their exclusive rights. To the biologist, they do these things to make it difficult for their partner to have sex with anybody else."

--- Robin Baker, Sex in the Future
 
August 7, 2002

Confessions of a techno-oaf

AM in love with technology. Got hooked in fourth grade, when my parents gave me my first digital diary. That sleek little purple toy was my initiation into the world of technofreaks. From then on life seemed incomplete without Nintendo, PCs, PDAs, mobile phones and the Internet.

Just sad that the very same gadgets I am passionate about have caused me a handful of embarrassing, lip-chewing moments.

Scenario 1:

A long time ago, I went out with Michiko. Was on restless mode then and J was worried I'd do something stupid. He SMSd me a reminder. I reassured him, "Don't worry. Michiko and I are just hanging out and talking. Won't do anything stupid." Concentration was divided between sending the message and talking with my date.

Michiko's phone lit up. His brows furrowed as he read his new message. Then he handed his phone to me and said, "This for me?"

I had mistakenly sent the message to him.


Scenario 2:

Was having a "discussion" with my boss via SMS. Wasn't going particularly well - she wanted to feature someone we had blacklisted because that person had previously given us hell when we tried to schedule an interview. Forwarded my boss' message to a friend and added my own - "What's this? Is she being sarcastic?"

Apparently sent the message to the wrong person again.

Boss ended her next message with, "And no, I'm not being sarcastic."

Whoops.


Scenario 3:

Spent the whole night flirting with Barney at a party. Nothing came out of it although I did save his number in my mobile's phonebook. Eventually, I added the word "flirt" to his name just so I'd be able to distinguish him from other people who share his name.

We SMSd a few times - never went beyond that.

Months later, I saw him again at another event. He chided me for not sending him SMS anymore. "Am not sure if I still have your number eh."

He peered over my shoulder while I scrolled through my phone book, checking for his name.

Saw the entry. "barney flirt"

Shit. Shit.

Quickly deleted his name, took a deep breath and nonchalantly said, "Yeah, your name's not here na eh. What's your number again?"

He gave me his number. But I haven't heard from him again.

Haha.


Madami pa. Di ko lang maalala.

Okay lang, wag lang ako ma-wrong send sa mommy ko.


***

Ruthie and Kathy, we better give the grope fiesta a break. And I think I need to be rehabilitated.

This guy in the office said hi to me enthusiastically when I arrived. Forgot that I wasn't with you guys. Gave him a cheery grin and inadvertently slapped his butt in greeting.

Punyeta. Nagulat siguro yun.

Thank god we're not in the States. Otherwise, I can say hello to sexual harassment case #1.

***

The Wednesday habit

Ru and I meet in the office on Wednesdays to talk and catch up.

Today, we had to settle for the library since there were a lot of people in our usual meeting place.

Had a blast, Ru. I missed you.

If we go to Hong Kong, I swear, I'm going to bring out the tourist in you - even if I have to handcuff you to me.

***

DINNER was fantastic. My officemates and I ordered and shared tostadas, onion rings, fettuccini alfredo and tomato basil spaghetti from Don Henrico's.

Had fun making tostadas to suit their different tastes. No-meat-no-cheese, no-veggies, no-meat, no-tomatoes-no-meat, etc., etc.

Was excellent.

Yum.


***


WAS the victim of a practical joke concocted by an ass called Richard. (His real name is Ritche but I like calling him Richard to piss him off.)

Was busy surfing and blogging in the office when a box popped up on my screen. "Memory running low!!!! Close all your windows!!"

Weird. Have never seen this alert before. I hit okay and resumed blogging.

Minutes later, another message appeared. "Memory running low!!!! You have five seconds!!!"

Clicked okay and closed a few windows just to shut it up.

Another message popped up.

"Memory running low!!!! Please close your windows!!!"

"Ano ba to?" (What's this?) I asked the guy beside me, the annoyance evident in my voice.

Ritche looked at my PC with a bored look in his eyes and said, "Just click "ok"."

I did what he said. But another box popped up.

"Memory low!!! Will shut down your PC now!!"

Was starting to wonder why the alert expressed too much feeling. Something about the irregular number of exclamation points bugged me too. There was just too much franticness there.

Strange.

Then I noticed that the idiot's shoulders were shaking. The jerk was laughing!

I punched his arm. He protested, claiming to be innocent. I almost believed him, and even started accusing my boss. Everyone in the cubicle started laughing. I rolled my eyes and resumed blogging, convinced I had caught the culprit and that the messages would stop.

Another annoying box popped up.

"Wag mo pagbintangan si Ritche! ok"

Aha! Jerk!

Another officemate observed, "Tama spelling ng pangalan niya! Siya yan!" True. Hardly anyone else gets the spelling of his name right.

I wrestled his mouse away from him and saw the dialogue box where he had been typing his stupid messages.

Kicked him - twice.

Am so glad I wore my fuck-me witch boots today.




 
August 6, 2002

Be careful what you wish for...

If the gods of Planet Boob added one inch to my chest size for every single time people told me they wished they had my tits, I wouldn't be able to fit through doors. Scratch that, I'd probably be so top-heavy I wouldn't be able to stand at all.

Women who keep wishing for bigger breasts should be asked to walk around with huge stuffed bras so they could understand that the whole deal is overrated.

I have 36Cs (38Ds now, I suspect, but I really don't want to know for sure) and they've given me more trouble than I thought possible.

1] Trying to find a button-down shirt that fits perfectly is hell. Either you end up with one that fits perfectly except that you can't fasten the buttons on your chest or you end up with one that you can actually button completely but makes you look like you raided someone (read: someone bigger) else's closet.

2] Shirts with cutesy cartoons, logos or kick-ass statements emblazoned on the chest are a no-no - unless you want the design to look completely distorted.

3] Trying to find a bra that fits is hell too. When you live in a country where 34B is considered big, you know that the chances of you finding the perfect brassiere are slim to none. Minus the occasional successful shopping trips, I usually have to resort to asking relatives abroad to get bras for me.

4] People touch them. Will never forget the day one of the secretaries in the dotcom I used to work for barged into the bathroom while I was brushing my teeth, reached out, squeezed one of my breasts and said, "Totoo ba yan?" (Are those real?)

5] People see them before they see you. A couple of years back, J saw what I meant. We were walking in Glorietta when he noticed that people were staring at my tits. (Get this - I was actually wearing a hoodie over my top.) "Ano ba yan!" J said, getting annoyed. He pointed his finger at the next guy who stared and said, "Ayan, isa pa yan!"

That cracked us up. But that kind of thing is something I've always had to deal with.

6] Men obsess about them. An ex (who turned out to be a compete perv) liked cutting me off mid-sentence when we're talking on the phone to ask this question: "What kind of bra are you wearing?" Ha. And when he just lunged at them one day, I ended up cutting him off - permanently.

7] While the effects of maximizers or push-up bras can be appreciated (think Erin Brockovich), the minimizers don't seem to work. To illustrate, here's a conversation I had with my mom a few months back.

Mom: "Ang laki-laki yata ng boobs mo ngayon." (Your boobs seem bigger now.)
Me (rolling my eyes): "Ma, naka-minimizer na ako." (Ma, I'm wearing a minimizer.)

8] Sleeping on your stomach is an impossible feat. Me sleeping on my stomach = suffocation, big time.

9] Can never go bra-less. And because it's difficult to get strapless bras in my size, there are a lot of clothes I would never get to wear.

10] They bounce - even when you wear the most heavy-duty, ultra-support bras.

11] The cleavage is a major trap for crumbs. Just yesterday, I was in the office, in front of my computer, enjoying the crostini and spinach dip I was having for dinner when my cleavage started to itch. Realized that a lot of crumbs had fallen into my neckline, heading straight for my cleavage. While most people's crumbs drop straight to the floor or the table, my crumbs take a detour - straight to my bra. Why should it be a wonder that it's almost impossible for me to drink Chocolait or eat ice cream without getting drops on my shirt when my boobs are always in the way?

12] Try running with these babies strapped to your chest and you'll see what "weights" mean.

13] Everything you wear can make you look slutty. Years ago, I remember reading about Jerry Seinfeld's ex-girlfriend Shoshanna's desire to go for breast reduction surgery for the very same reason. While I do not share her longing to go under the knife, it was good to realize someone understood how I felt.

Before I am cursed for being a complete bitch complaining about something that so many other people wish for, I must admit that being well-endowed has its good points.

1] Some clothes just look nicer when you have tits.

2] I've never felt the need to stuff my bra - there's never extra space anyway.

3] I actually have a cleavage - with or without underwire.

4] I'd never be mistaken for a man.

Big boobs are okay, cleavage is good - as long as people realize that there is a lot more to you than your bra size, as long as you realize that there is a lot more to you than your bra size.


***

Goodbye PMS, hello third day of goddawful menstrual cramps.

Urgh.


***

"Bad," I told a friend, when he told me about how he cheated on his boyfriend one time. Without missing a beat, he replied, "Sino ba nagsabing good ako?" (Who said I was good?)


***

"SOMETIMES people just try to find someone to love, someone they know won't hurt them."

Scary how an eighteen-year-old can seem so much more mature than I am.

***

WAS ONLINE and on the phone with Tim when the earthquake shook my room. Instant messages and SMS poured in from people asking if I felt the quake. Was even told that the people who were still in my office rushed down in fear of having the building collapse on them (now that was a bit much). Even my lola went out of her room to check if everything was okay outside. Felt disoriented but Tim seemed completely unfazed about it and just went on with his stories. Continued listening while he told me how excited he was about moving into his new flat; how colorful it would be; that his foyer and bedroom are avocado green, his receiving area painted with orange and yellow stripes, his carpet in his home office brown, blue and cream; that he wants his maid to constantly be in costume and that he's actually toying with the idea of hiring a midget as househelp to add to the whimsical feel of the place.

Started to wonder if I was hearing things, if the quake made me that dizzy. But no, the conversation was real, midget and all.

Should consider myself lucky to have such colorful people in my world. Life is never boring.


***

"THE HARD thing about fighting in relationships as opposed to Madison Square Garden; no referee. There's no one to tell you which comments are below the belt or when to go to your separate corners. As a result, someone usually gets hurt. And it seems that the closer a couple gets and the more stuff they have between them, the harder it is to figure out exactly why they're yelling."

--- Carrie, Sex and the City, Episode #61: The Good Fight

For some reason, these lines from last week's episode hit me hard. Not that I have anyone to fight with. Not that I want to have anyone to fight with.

***

THE RESULTS of mom's mammography will be released tomorrow. But she called me on her way home from the hospital and said that things looked good - that her cousin who is a doctor at the same hospital examined her breast again and couldn't feel the lump anymore.

Please please please let it be gone.

***

PEOPLE were worried about today's quiz in Theology (i.e. Love and Commitment). But professor entered the classroom and said, "Oh no! Nawawala ko yung quiz niyo!" (Oh no, I lost your quiz!)

The entire class cheered.

Then, the smart asses said, "Ma'am, that's part of God's plan."


***

DRAT. Professor was able to find the quiz in the faculty room.

Just realized how difficult it is to bullshit one's way through a test in Theology. Felt like I was constantly treading the borders of blasphemy.

***

PROFESSOR said, "You're my biggest class."

Gabby retorted, "You're the biggest pain in my ass."

Hahaha.


***

SAY hello to Sweetcheeks.

Haha.

***

YAY! Am not alone.

Today, Gabby closed Ruth's car door on himself.

Ha.

***

GABBY was called on in class to explain why men cheat on their wives. His answer - boredom. Professor agreed with him, saying that women have to surprise their husbands every day to get them to stay.

Ha. Yeah. Sure. Surprises and excitement will eradicate infidelity. Not.

Am sure that somewhere out there, idiots are feeding their mistresses/prey/gullible brainless bimbos something along these lines: "She's always in my face, you know. Always. Always after me to do new things. Always changing everything. She never leaves me alone. I just want peace. I just want quiet. I want stability and normality. Poor me. Now come here and give me a kiss..."

People will always find something wrong if they want to find something wrong. Cheating bastards will always find ways to justify their actions.

Trust me. This male-infested world is fucked up like that.
 
August 5, 2002

FINALLY went home to mom's place last night. Haven't slept over in a while as my schedule has been really messy the past weeks. Channel-surfed until I fell asleep beside my mom. Woke up with her hugging me.

I bugged her as much as I could between the time I woke up and the time I got off the car to go inside my office. Figured that acting like nothing was wrong is the best way to deal with the lump now. Keep her preoccupied, make her laugh, take her mind off tomorrow's mammography.


***


IN YET another attempt to change my brother's mind about getting tattoos, my mother told him, "If you get tattoos, I'll get tattoos too."

The smart ass replied, "Eh di cool. Pareho tayo."


***


"You don't get scared easily. But you get hurt easily."

You know me so well, Teej.


***


Part 2 of the battle plan for the new and improved Pammy

First, an update. Have started waking up earlier but Sunday was a complete failure. Trudged out of bed at noon telling self crossly, "You are a bad person with too much sleep." Haven't cleaned my room yet (to my friends: shut up, give me none of that I-told-you-so bull, give me time) - but I will get around to it. I just need one free day and I can do it. Unfortunately, according to my calendar, my next free day is three months away, unless a storm hits. As for schoolwork, professors haven't given us a lot to be serious about - although we did go all the way to Luneta just to take photos and we watched the UAAP game for sports journ. Oh yeah, we have a test in Love and Commitment tomorrow - will try to squeeze in a few chapters later when I get home from work. Have been blogging only once a day at work - although will admit to being sneaky. Have notepad constantly open so can keep writing little things I want to blog before posting at the last possible minute.

The results - a whopping zero out of a possible five. Am a failure I know. Might as well add a part 2, raise my chances a little.

6] Will finally get a proper driver's license. Has been long overdue. Now mom will have no reason not to hand over the keys. Ha.

7] Will get a new ATM card. Essential as I waste time and energy a) going to the bank every few days just to withdraw pocket money b) writing letters authorizing the maid to get my money on days when I'm feeling too lazy. Then again, easy access to cash might mean me spending more. Oh drat.

8] Will keep a record of everything. a] my expenses b] money, CDs, VCDs, books, even clothes I've lent out and to whom c] my goals d] things I would like to buy (now that should be fun) so I could prioritize my cash allotment

9] Will start my Christmas gift list. And beyond that, will actually start shopping early to avoid pre-holiday stress. Then, while the rest of the world goes crazy braving the horrible traffic, the jostling crowds and buying last-minute gifts no one actually wants or needs, I shall be at home, smug and relaxed with my cabinet full of perfectly wrapped presents for my loved ones.

10] Will start filing every single article I've written. I know I shouldn't have stopped keeping copies of my work. Shit. This means major hard work. Maybe should just let my descendants do this for me when am dead.

11] Will clean out my closets. Will give away clothes and shoes I have never used/haven't been using/have no intentions of using. Then will use separate closets for shirts that can be folded, shirts that have to be hanged, skirts, sarongs, pants and capris, house clothes, underwear, summer clothes and then will arrange them according to color. Yay. Great plan. Will require the assistance of Melda, though.

Okay, that's enough for now. Am tired. Didn't realize thinking of one's soon-to-be-perfect existence can be draining.


***


AND I thought I was too old to get crushes.

My god, am I bowled over. Can't remember the last time I got all tongue-tied in front of a guy. Sixteen years of education dissolved into nothingness just because of the presence of one majorly fine specimen.

I am a traitor to my gender.

A guy possessing that too-perfect mix of wit and good looks should be declared illegal.


***

Now I know J really loves me. He went to McDonald's with some of our officemates. Asked him to buy me a hot fudge sundae without the ice cream - just the fudge. He rolled his eyes and sighed at my request, saying he wouldn't embarrass himself by ordering that. But he did anyway. My hot fudge is now getting cold inside the office fridge.

Yay.

Thanks, J. I so know that you're going to make some hot guy happy (shempre dapat hot) in the near future.

Hope he makes even stranger requests. Should be fun to watch. Hee.





 
August 4, 2002

ASK ME what happened to "us" and I'll tell you this:

Kick a cat once and it will come back, thinking you want to play. But keep kicking it hard, keep kicking even when it yelps in pain and soon the very sight of you will cause the cat to scamper away. You'd be left alone, with no cat to kick.

I'm the cat.


***

WATCHED this afternoon's UAAP game live. Was a lot fun - because we won.

Must have enjoyed myself too much. My hands are still red from all the clapping, my throat sore from the screaming and I've gotten SMS from people who saw me on TV cheering my head off. Kahiya.

Not a bad way to earn points for my sports journ class.

Oi, Ruthie, sa Thursday ulit. At pag si Gabby hindi pa nag-cheer, gulpihin natin.


***

IF I were born gay and tall, like J, I would have wanted to be a UAAP player.

Complete access to locker rooms, hot ball buddies, seeing my teammates in various states of undress, ass-tapping, hugging and fervent touching in broad daylight (err, court light, rather) - how cool would that be?

Am such a maniac. Hee.


***

SEARCHES from the usual pervs who have vibrated to my blog:


dolce+gabbana+underwear

hymen+pictures

big+tits+meera+syal

TRUE+JACK+OFF+MASTURBATION+STORIES

flip+flops+on+my+ass

nude+male+pinoys

nude+cebu+students

makati+pimp

the+8th+grade+girls+shaved+my+cock+and+made+me+wear+a+dress

Hey, that last one is.... sad.






 
August 3, 2002

DOCTOR found a lump in my mother's left breast.

She had herself checked after experiencing pain in her chest. Doctor suspects that the cyst is full of water and was caused by the hormones she had been taking since her total hysterectomy in 1994. Her old gynecologist who prescribed Premarin did not warn my mom that the drug might cause lumps and possibly breast cancer later on.

She's going for mammography next week, just to make sure.

She told me everything over the phone. We stayed silent for a long while. I was standing in my room staring out my windows into the darkness outside. She sniffled in the background. I knew, at that moment, I should have stepped in and became the mother - even for just a short while. But I couldn't. Felt helpless. Didn't even know what to say.

My mother had a cancer scare back in 1993. Doctor told her she had cancer of the ovaries. She locked herself up in her and my father's bedroom, hiding in the dark, just crying and not speaking to anyone.

I couldn't do much for her then either. I just cried with her. Turns out the diagnosis was a big mistake.

Now it seems that we're back in the same place. Let this be a mistake again. Please. Let it be anything but cancer.


***

HOW FAR would you go for a good picture?

Ruthie, Gabby, Shayn, Kathy, Patwee, Leidy and I went to Luneta early this morning to take pictures for our photo journalism class.

There were a lot of images to choose from. Old women doing the cha-cha with gay dance instructors, sweaty kids playing softball, lovers stretched out under trees, a cigarette vendor with one leg, religious fanatics gathering on a grandstand, weary policemen making sure things stay calm, the president arriving to give a speech, little kids running around, picnics everywhere, people sleeping on benches, dumpsters, concrete plantboxes and other flat surfaces.

Choosing people and scenarios you want to capture is easy. Actually getting them isn't. How do you just barge into other people's lives and take photos of them to get credit in school?

Where do you draw the line?

With cameras in tow, Ruthie, Shayn and Leidy flocked towards a filthy man who was sleeping with his head resting on his bag with his mouth wide open. Gabby and I watched, aghast, when they started clicking away. We felt sorry for the oblivious man whose afternoon nap has been made permanent by the cameras of three strangers.

Kathy was waved away by a vendor when he saw her camera.

When kids saw Gabby pointing his camera towards them, they quickly fled from the mouth of the oversized concrete hippo in the playground.

Kept asking myself, how would I feel if a stranger suddenly approached me and asked if he/she can take my picture? I'd tell them to get the hell out of my face. Or if strangers suddenly took my photos while I was sleeping, or right in the middle of worshipping my god? I'd be mad enough to kill.

Luckily, there were willing subjects. Policemen posed for us. A baby sat still and stared into Ruthie's camera while I fiddled with its settings. A kid zipping down one of the huge rainbow-colored slides seemed to enjoy the attention. Three girls on the swing set didn't seem to mind the presence of the camera either. So I took pictures of them. I also took a photo of a sleeping man - but he had his face covered. No face, no guilt.

There were a lot of other photos I could have taken. Lovers having an intimate moment under the harsh light of the sun, a guy playing with his female friend's foot while she slept on the grass, two pre-pubescent boys walking with their hands clasped, a couple having an argument, a policeman sleeping while on duty. They could have been good pictures. But some pictures are better left in the head.

***

AFTER Luneta and after a short trip to Robinson's Place, we all went to my place to watch Pretty Woman.

Edward Lewis: So what happens after he climbs up and rescues her?
Vivian Ward: She rescues him right back.

I like that.


***

I'VE BEEN watching Bridget Jones over and over the past days - and reading the book at the same time. I've almost memorized the script.

One line from the soundtrack just kills me and I don't even know why:

Was I ever loved by you?

--- Gabrielle, Out of Reach

If you rephrased that and made it "did you ever love me?" I don't think it will have the same effect at all.

Someone please explain that to me.


***

J was asking if I wanted to go out. He asked a couple of hours too late. I have just spent the last of my cash on an excellent but pricey JavaScript book. And since am a moron who lost her ATM card and refuses to get a credit card, I will have to wait for the bank to open so it could spew my money.

I shall be spending my Saturday night here, in front of my PC, while other people throw their cash around.


***

GARY and I have started communicating again. Welcome back, man.


***

"DEATH does not negate life."

--- Apa Ongpin, on the supposed suicide of his father, The Correspondents




***

HAHA! After my friends left, went to my room and found a Dymocks bag on my bed. The books and magazines I accidentally left with E. were inside.

He must have dropped by and left package with the maid earlier.

Oh joy! Now there's absolutely no reason left to talk to him.

Wonderful.

Now if only he'd stop leaving messages on my machine.





 
August 2, 2002

HAD to skip my Sports Journalism class. Wasn't feeling very sporty - quite the opposite, really.

Couldn't move. Spent the first few hours of my day groaning, chomping on pain killers and pressing a hot water bottle against my right side.

Made the stupid mistake of bending over without bending my knees while I was in the shower last night. Heard some bones near my waist area crack painfully. Hurt pretty bad but the pain was worse when I woke up.

Am 21 and already an old woman with brittle bones and cracking joints. Fuckit.

***

HAVE to force myself to move - have a test on taxation this afternoon and I know zilch.


***

PEOPLE always complain about them having to make the first move to be able to talk to me. I never call or SMS unless they called or SMSd first, they say. I guess this is true most of the time.

This isn't because of a false air of self-importance or me being extremely busy. I prefer having people reach out to me. That way I know they're ready to talk to me and that I'm not bugging them in the middle of something important.

Should be thankful not everyone is like me, though. Otherwise, no one would be calling anyone else. Otherwise, the world will be too quiet.

***

AM not pleased with my existence. My life is lacking in order and discipline. Am determined to change that.

The following will eventually result in a better, more organized, disciplined me:

1] Will wake up earlier, regardless of time went to sleep. Will not waste precious hours lying in when I can be doing productive things like writing/attending meetings/brainstorming, etc. Will not waste efforts trying to sleep at insanely early hours like 9 or 10 p.m. as it’s an impossible feat and is a foreseen failure. Moments spent staring at the ceiling counting hunky guys jumping over peppermint fences are a complete waste and going entirely against desired direction of self-improvement. However, could probably expect that after several days of waking up early, body will feel the need to sleep earlier – it is only natural, after all. Body clock shall become normal, finally, for the first time in my life.

2] Will clean my room. Must get rid of unnecessary papers and documents as current habitat is a fire hazard. Getting rid of the clutter will result in more space for more essential things such as new books, CDs, accessories, my new desktop PC and the skulls of those who have wronged me. Getting rid of the clutter will also stop snide remarks from relatives and helpers.

My grandma: ”Pamela, your room is like a landmine. I’m afraid to step on the floor."
Maid: ”Siguro may ahas na dito." (There’s probably a snake lurking around here.)
My uncle: “Ang dami mong gamit!” (You’ve got too many things!)
My father: “You actually sleep here!?” (Saying “here” with a mixture of amazement and distaste, as if my room was infested with cockroaches, druggies and deranged killers.)
My two-year-old cousin: “Ate Pam, ang kayat!”

Evidently, cleaning the room will bring forth more benefits than just clean surroundings. I shall live in utter peace – in an existence free from clutter and grief brought about by undesirable comments. My world shall be the epitome of well-being. I shall be known as The Girl With The Immaculate Room.

3] Will take schoolwork seriously. Will give the bullshit machine a rest. After all, will only be in school for a few more months. Might as well leave them with mouths open in admiration over my scholarly existence.

4] Will stop skipping classes. Makes perfect sense as it is almost impossible to become model student if one hardly goes to class.

5] Will regulate amount of blogging done in the office. Will try. Or set rules, at least. From now on will only blog in the office if urge is really intense, if there is a need to purge head before writing an article, if something important happens, if fingers have frozen, seizures start and brain goes on a complete blink as a result of self-deprivation.

This will do for now.


***

I’VE BEEN scolded by countless people for not wanting to go to a doctor. They’ve hit me with thoughts of paralysis, osteoporosis, calcium deficiency and, the most original of the lot, the inability to have kids.

I replied to Mich, one of our writers. “K lang, yoko naman mag-asawa eh.” (That’s okay, I don’t want to get married anyway.)

She replied, “Not having children is different from having an asshole’s surname added to your name.”

Hahaha.

I like that.

***

YESTERDAY, a friend asked me, "Paano ba maging [my full name]? (What's it like to be [my full name]?)

I asked him to explain his question. He couldn’t – said it just popped into his head. I didn’t know how to answer that. Because I’ve never been anyone else.


***

I LIKE this guy.

Only because Elmo is so goddamn cute.

***

I don't want to be the glue that holds your pieces together
I don't want to be your idol
See this pedestal is high and I'm afraid of heights

--- Not the Doctor, Alanis








 
August 1, 2002

MOM is going nuts. My seventeen-year-old brother has just announced that he's getting tattoos - not just one, but a lot.

Not that I support his insanity, but mom should have been ready for this. After all, he does have tunnel piercings on both ears (something similar to this but he uses another kind of earring - I can actually see through his goddamn ears), tongue ring, a nipple ring and an eyebrow ring.

I don't get the whole self-mutilation bit - but he's bull-headed like I am. If he says he's getting tattoos, I'm pretty sure he'll be getting them.

When he's sixty and wrinkled, all those holes and ink stains won't look pretty. Then again, I'd be sixty-five then, what right would I have to say what's pretty and not?

***

"Is that a segue to something else?"
"Isn't everything a segue to something else?"
"Now we're getting all philosophical."

We were redundant but I didn't mind. Coz it was a segue. A fucking good one.

***

SUPPOSED to submit a personality profile for my Features Writing class later. Am submitting an old article. Am in no mood to crank up the bullshit machine.

Ha.


***

LET me introduce you to the world's greatest dictionary.

Grandma gave Charlie to me a couple of years back.

Charlie is way cool because he features words that most dictionaries like to pretend do not exist - and even uses them in sentences.

Let's take "fuck," for instance.

Charlie, hit it.

- vulgar and offensive slang meaning to have sexual intercourse with

Do you feel like a fuck?

- offensive slang for a person, especially a woman, considered as a sexual partner

She's a good fuck.

Hoy Charlie, I don't like that "especially a woman" bit. To make things even, let me make my own example.

He's a lousy fuck.

Okay, continue, Charlie.

- used to express annoyance, anger or disgust

I hate this fucking work.

- used as a general term of abuse

I never want to set eyes on that stupid fucker again.

- used to emphasize an angry statement or order

You're fucking well going whether you like it or not.

- to mess about, fool around

Stop fucking about with the radio and get to work.

- to treat someone badly or inconsiderately

That crooked machine keeps fucking me around.

- go away

Fuck off! Leave me alone!

- to make a mess of

That idiot made a real fuck-up of a simple job.

Charlie can tell you about bitches, S&M, and E, among other things.

Ain't he a wonder?


***

DIDN'T go to school. Mucus queen has once again been crowned. She regaled the members of her kingdom with a symphony of sneezing and snot-blowing the entire day.


***

An afternoon of bad TV

Am longing for those days when my existence was free from any need to sit in front of the television and let my brain go on a temporary coma.

Life sure was more peaceful then.

Without TV, I wouldn't get worked up over things like:

1] Caroline in the City on Star World. In today's episode the paper was throwing a party to unveil Caroline's 2000th comic strip. Impossible as Caroline's strip comes out weekly. It should have taken her 38 years to produce her 2000th comic strip.

My god, how bored am I? Okay, so I'm nit-picky. Sue me.

2] A Pops Fernandez video on Myx. Forgot the title - but it's the one where she's getting ready for a date. She bathed, checked for pimples, chose one pink dress over numerous pink dresses, put on her makeup, practiced how she'll talk to her date, preened and posed in front of the mirror like an insecure adolescent while singing and humming to her horrible song.

That took her four long hours.

What the hell was up with her telling the guy "don't forget to ring the doorbell" right before he went up to her unit? Can you say braindead?

The stupid thing is, I was so annoyed that I was riveted. (Doesn't make sense to me either.)

Pops, you've spawned two huge boys. Stop acting like a goddamn giddy teenager. You're not fooling anyone.

3] The Pope in the Canonization Mass in Mexico. He was bent and frail, his hands were shaking, he could barely speak and saliva dripped from his mouth while he recited the beginning of the Lord's Prayer. He looked so tired that it hurt just to see him.

Couldn't help it. I started crying. Had to leave my grandma's room. I just couldn't watch anymore.


***

MY BROTHER is adamant about getting tattoos.

Have tried numerous tactics to change his mind.

First, bribery. I told him I'd buy him his dream mobile phone if he remained tattoo-free. He refused. Said that he "did not need material things" and that tattoos "would bring him fulfillment". Wow, that sure made me feel shallow.

Second, threats. Told him I wouldn't give him my old computer when I get my new one. He just grinned at me. The jerk knows I'd give it to him no matter what he does.

Then I used a third party. Asked my grandma to talk sense into him. Powie just buried his head under his pillow and laughed at us.

Had to resort to violence. But that turned ugly when I accidentally kicked him in the head. So I stopped.

Finally tried talking to him seriously. Told him he'll regret it. But he said he's thought about it for years. Asked him how he thought his children would be able to respect him when their father looks like an ex-convict. Then he said, "They're going to see what's inside me - that's how they'll respect me." That made me feel unreasonable.

I've decided to just shut up about it and cross my fingers until he changes his mind.

Urgggghhhhh.

I hate that my brother is as stubborn as I am.


***

WAS exchanging SMS with my 8-year-old cousin Miguel and his 6-year-old brother Paolo. My aunt sent me SMS with her own phone after a while. "The two are ganging up on you. They've been giggling like crazy."

Glad to know I still have the power to entertain nutty little kids.

***

J TOOK the death test too and discovered that he will die on April 15, 2059 - just a month after my own supposed demise.

I so know what will happen. I'll die and he'll be so devastated about it that he'll soon follow me to my grave.

Hahahahahaha. Di ba, J?

Aaaaaargh. Mali.

J gave me the wrong information. He's going to die on April 15, 2050, not 2059. Okay, here's the revision.

I so know what will happen. J will die and I'll be so devastated about it that I'll soon follow him to his grave... 9 years later.