Tuesday, October 22, 2013

{Day}dream


Your shirt smells like safety
Warm, sweet, sunlight trapped between the threads
A piece of summer in winter, autumn leaves with the scent of spring
I breathe in deep -at first a shy sniff
But then you lay my head on your chest
And I breathed you in, my heart racing yet content
But then I woke up
Yet the mirage of you still lingers...

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

This Week in Music: Sara Bareilles and The Blessed Unrest



Sara, Sara, Sara. You did it again. Another album worth listening to from the first track up to the last. The best songs speak the truth, like any form of writing or art, and Sara, you are a master storyteller. I can feel your truth in every song. Enough said ( and just listen to the album).

Personal favorites: Island, Manhattan, Chasing the Sun, December, Beautiful Girl, and I Wanna Be Like Me

Monday, October 7, 2013

What Color Matches Up with your Personality?

Mine's Yellow.
The sunniest color in the spectrum, which has long been associated with good cheer and happiness. Those who love yellow are often creative, artistic, social people who have dramatic imaginations and a love to create! You are a positive thinker and loved by many people!
28.8% of people that have taken this quiz have achieved this result.
Take the test here.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Love in the Time of LOTR

Eowyn and Faramir. Image from here.

"Do not scorn pity that is a gift of a gentle heart, Eowyn! But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten; and you are a lady beautiful, I deem, beyond even the words of the Elven-tongue to tell. And I love you. Once I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, without fear or any lack, were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, still I would love you. Eowyn, do you not love me?"

(The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, JRR Tolkien)

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

I dreamt of Krissy


I dreamt of Krissy and we were playing in the snow. So sosyal. A-ha-aha-aha.

Image from here.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Five things I learned from Swimming (that can be applied to real life)

  1. Keep your eyes open. Whether you're going to jump into the water or just doing laps, it's best if you see where you are headed. 
  2. It's all about pacing. It's not a race. The goal is to keep your body in rhythm so you can keep yourself afloat. 
  3. When you're in the middle of the pool and you realize that you're in really deep water (excuse the pun) and you start to panic, remember: Glide, kick, kick, pull. Keep moving, don't let the circumstances scare you. Remember what you have to do to get through.
  4. Remember a mouthful of water cannot drown you, but panic can. (This I learned from "Life of Pi" HAHAHA but it's applicable anyway).
  5. After every pull, raise your head from the surface and do not forget to BREATHE.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Adele on a Wednesday Morning

Found this Adele playlist on Youtube. Currently listening to it while working :)

New discoveries: "I'll be waiting" (Track 2) and "One and Only" (Track 4).
Love her version of "Love Song" as well (Track 3).


Tuesday, August 27, 2013

My Anti-Bucket List

The Anti-bucket list or the list of things you never hope to do in your lifetime.

Here's mine (in no particular order):
  • World War III breaks out and there's scarcity of food and so I have to eat my cats. NOOOO, I don't even wanna think about it.
  • Anything that concerns septic tanks.
  • Shave my head.
  • Wear contact lens. I have an issue with putting any foreign object inside my eyes. I'm pretty much paranoid with anything concerning my peepers. Aside from them being my best assets (hehehe), my biggest fear is that I'd go blind and never be able to read again.
  • Attend the wedding of the person you wanted to marry. Duh.
  • Undergo a root canal. Ouchie.
  •  Bungee Jump.  No, seriously, bungee jump.
  • Jump out of a crashing plane.
  • Dance like Miley Cyrus did in the recent VMA's. Watched it yet? Yes. Watch it again so you could put it in your anti-bucket list, too. Haha. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CgSQSQ6D16o
You, what's yours? :)

Thursday, August 15, 2013

May Bulutong ka ba?

Nagkaroon ka na ba ng chicken pox? Oo, bulutong.

Akala ko kapag nagkaroon ka na ng bulutong, hindi ka na magkakaroon ulit. Apparently, hindi naman pala ganun ang kaso. Yung virus daw will stay in your system, dormant until merong mag-trigger and then it will act up again and voila-  may shingles ka na!

Habang lutang ako sa LRT kanina (bilang 1.5 hours lang ang tulog ko), naisip ko lang, yung love parang chicken pox din e no? Kala mo wala na, pero andun pa din pala, dormant lang. Pwedeng ma-trigger ulit tapos kapag di naagapan pwedeng mag-iwan ng scar. Malas mo lang, dahil kahit parehas sila ng chicken pox, di pa din tatalab ang chicken pox vaccine sa condition mo. Buti pa nga yung kapag nagka-chicken pox ka pwede kang maligo ng pinagpakuluan ng Cilantro seeds para gumaling. Kapag nag-scar, maghanap ka na ng real life sebo de macho or contractubex para mag-fade.

Mga naiisip mo nga naman kapag wala kang tulog. :) So ikaw, may bulutong ka ba?

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Anti-Gloom Campaign

And Miley Cyrus's video will always cheer me up- thanks to you ;)


I hate goodbyes ;(

Friday, August 2, 2013

VII.

"You said I could call you when I wanted but you wouldn't call me. You have to decide when and where, you said. If you leave it up to me I'll want to see you everyday." 
This is How You Lose Her (Flaca), Junot Diaz

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Goodnight Baby

I didn't get to see her alive when I woke up this morning. I did see her: curled up inside a shoe box, her amber eyes open but unseeing. She must've been in pain even during the final minutes. I stroked her head one last time, took a deep breath, and knew that I will never see her again. If only I did not linger in bed, if only I didn't hit snooze and just went downstairs immediately...Ohmyghaaad, I'm tearing up again :( I'm a walking bag of guilt and grief. Anyone who ever had a pet they loved could probably relate to the sadness.

She started to throw up last Saturday night and refused to eat ever since. She ate our house plant. Cat owners, house plants are toxic to cats. I thought she was going to be better today because we already, finally, went to the vet yesterday. (Too late :( ) She had three shots for her fever. The shots were meant to relieve her of it. She still didn't want to eat last night, not even a drink of water. Before I went upstairs to sleep, she was just sitting on the floor, trying hard to sleep, shifting positions every so often. I guess the pain never allowed her to sleep.

She's barely two years old. She's quiet, unlike Hachi or Kimba who tend to run around the house, breaking things. Midnight was skinny; she's pure black with piercing amber eyes. She used to follow me around the house, even inside the toilet. She responds when you call her name. She knows who she is. She's scared of thunder and the sound of drums. When there's a visitor inside the house, she scurries upstairs to hide. Her favorite food is chicken liver. Oh, and she likes hunting birds, too.

Goodnight Midnight. I'm sorry. I should've taken you to the doctor sooner. I hope it's true that cats have nine lives. I hope you're waking up somewhere, a newborn kitten, living her second life. I miss you already. I love you.

Friday, July 19, 2013

VI.

I want you and I don’t want to be a luxury. I want you to need me. I want you to not be able to concentrate because you’re thinking about me. I want you to reach for your phone because you thought of something you have to share with me. I want you to not even be able to breathe at the thought of never seeing me again, because that’s how I feel about you. 
Shannon Stacey, All He Ever Needed

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Siren Song


My heart: it’s pounding and it’s restless and it’s peaceful all at the same time. It’s singing a tune I never thought I’d hear again. A siren’s song: ancient, beautiful, yet familiar. I hear it whispering life into the intricacies of my body, pumping blood to every nerve and sinew.

The water whispers: Come. My heart sings in answer: I am ready.

Image from here.

Monday, June 24, 2013

I Dream a Dream

I.

I dreamt of being stranded in an airport.  I was with Ivan, Zan, and Yshio. Too realistic to be a dream, since just last month, we were indeed stranded in Busuanga airport. Maybe my brain is rehashing memories. I have no idea where we were - where we were headed, or what airport it is exactly - all I knew was we were waiting for a flight that would never come. There are details I've forgotten already.
II.

The next night I dreamt of being in an old cafe in Bacolod. Ivy grew on the walls of the cafe and the windows were made of Capiz shells. There was indecipherable music in the background. I was certain we were in Bacolod, even if there were no physical clues as to where we were. I was with Ivan, Zan, and Yshio again. Ivan had a big album with him that he was showing us. It was full of pictures of our years and years of friendship...
III.

Took a nap and dreamt of zigzags and realized we were in Baguio. Only it was just us two. We were being chased. I don't recall what or who was chasing us. Probably zombies (since I've watched World War Z just the night before). I saw rain clouds on the horizon, grey and plump. We slumped on the floor and slept.

Friday, June 14, 2013

Late Reaction

On the day na umusok ang isyung ito, binalak ko na mag-post, kaso na-delay e. So kahit late na ang reaction ko, wala kayong magagawa bilang blog ko ito at ipopost ko and gusto ko. Lol.

Homophobia?  I don’t think that's the issue here. It’s more of protecting St. Scholastica's credibility as a Catholic institution– that yes, in reality, lesbianism happens inside their school walls but as a Catholic school they wouldn't want to be associated with condoning same sex relationships. Guys, Catholic school sila they have an ‘image’, a 'morality’ to uphold. I think their response to the comic strip is understandable.

The comic strip is not offensive per se – except, probably, for the nuns and administrators of St Scho. As a plain civilian, na hindi nag-aral or nagtrabaho sa St. Scho, kebs lang, di ba? Pero, syempre, if you're part of the Sister community at St. Scho, ibang usapan na nga 'yun.

I do agree that Pol Medina shouldn’t have been suspended – he shouldn’t even have resigned, nag-apologize na lang sana (Did he apologize na nga ba?). Di ko sure ha pero before they publish there are approvers of the content right? It’s usually the editorial team who decides on what the newspaper publishes for that day. And I personally think it’s bullcrap that PDI is saying that there was a ‘mix-up’ kaya na-publish yung already unapproved comic strip of Pol Medina. Human error? Fine, but people should be held liable –hindi lang si PMJ. 

Sound byte (hehe, pume-Professional Heckler ang peg):
"I believe that no one should write as a journalist what he would not say as a gentleman." - Journalist creed
Sure, sure comic strip ito at hindi editorial or straight news pero ang kasong ito ay parang katulad lang din ng joke ni Vice Ganda kay Jessica Soho.

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Independence Day

My heart skipped a beat at the sight of...the pool. I didn't know it was possible to feel so at home in the water. Before taking up swimming lessons, I was afraid of it. But now, after only one session, there's a certain sense of calm that washes over me (pun unintended) once I'm in the pool. I want to stay in the water for as long as possible, until my skin is gnarled and I'm too tired to even just glide on the surface. Plus, I like the way I look after a good swim - skin golden brown, nose as red as Rudolph's, my hair sticking out every which way. And my eyes - though tinged with red - reflect joy, contentment, and a realization that I want to be here - in the water. I feel so carefree. My heart continues to skip a beat.

We swam for an hour and a half. I know I could use some more practice. Nahihirapan pa din ako sa breathing when doing freestyle. It's all about timing and I have to work on that. Yesterday, the Pius pool was closed so we swam at the YMCA instead. It's harder to breathe there - the water's too thick with chlorine, it tends to burn your throat when you happen to swallow even just a teeny bit.
**
American Psycho update: I'm almost done, probably down to the last 30 pages of the book. I couldn't contain the events to myself any longer that I tried to entice my brother to listen to me rant about this madman's misadventures. Well, my brother just shook his head, waved me away, and continued watching the Heat-Spurs rerun on TV. Oh well. 

I wonder how Mr. Ellis wrote the book. Did he do a lot of research on serial killers - real life and fictional ones? Ted Bundy? Hannibal? Did he had nightmares after writing this particular book? It's so graphic I shut my eyes every time Bateman strikes. Great writing: I believe every single thing Ellis wrote, even if I know that the chance of him writing this from personal experience is close to nil.

Patrick Bateman makes Hannibal look like an amateur. But at least, Hannibal's "classy". But Bateman....he's out of his fucking mind. I want to place this book next to my DI Rebus series, half hoping that John Rebus springs to life, enters the American Psycho world, and nails the bastard. That'd be nice.
***
Midnight gave birth yesterday - four kittens, two pure black and two black ones spotted with white.
****
I wanted to kiss you on the cheek when we said goodbye but I guess, I was shy. Awkward. One of these days, I'll finally succeed in doing it and then it...really...is...over. Done. Just like when Popoy kissed Basha on the cheek in One More Chance post break up, the first time they saw each other after a year. Sooner or later, I'll be able to do it. Just you wait.

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Shameless Plug: Books for Sale



> The Perks of Being a Wallflower - Stephen Chbosky
> The Bad Girl - Mario Vargas Llosa
> The Widows of East Wick - John Updike
> Pandora - Anne Rice
> The Hundred Secret Senses - Amy Tan
> The Story of Edgar Sawtelle - David Wroblewski
> No Country for Old Men - Cormac McCarthy
> The Mummy - Anne Rice
> The Friday Night Knitting Club - Kate Jacobs
> What do you do all day? - Amy Scheibe

 More books here!

Monday, June 10, 2013

Psyched Up

On American Psycho...

Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it. Last time I was getting bored with the pace of the story. Couple of pages ahead and I'm surprised with all the gory, Rated-R details. I was on page 180 this morning and I felt like vomiting my entire breakfast inside the train.

Pat Bateman kills. He kills because he's annoyed. He kills because he's too high on drugs. He kills because he doesn't like what you're wearing. He kills just because. And then he shouts like a banshee.

I wonder, though, how it all started. If Hannibal had Mischa, then who/what is Pat's Mischa?

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Psych me up


Currently reading: American Psycho, published 1991, written by Bret Easton Ellis (author of The Informers)

I'm on page 73 and...I'm bored. I know it is necessary to go through Patrick Bateman's state of mind - his vanity, his attention to details no matter how trivial, his friends and how they treat him, basically, the way he lives his life. Mr. Ellis I get it already, okay? This is how a psychopath's mind works - well, specific to Pat Bateman. So can we move on with the story now? On to the manifestations please, the actual doing.  

If the next 10 pages continue to describe what everyone is wearing I might just go and grab another book. 

Anthimeria

"Grammar play is like free verse, splatter painting or low-fi music. The first to get to the idea grabs attention just by virtue of daring. But the hordes who follow have to have something to say, some real content, not to mention a real product to sell. Just playing around with the medium won’t do. It takes more than unconventional to generate memorable." 
Read more: Think Similar

"Real content is king" should be our mantra.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Negative Space

Negative space is the space around and between the subject(s) of an image. The use of negative space is a key element of artistic composition.
I learned something new today! :) I thought negative space was, literally, an environment you considered charged with negative energy and is therefore subjective.

Read more about negative space here.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

V.


Danao Canyon Swing, November 2011
I have lived my life according to this principle: If I’m afraid of it, then I must do it.
Erica Jong


Friday, May 24, 2013

Date a Girl Who Jaywalks




Date a girl who jaywalks. Date a girl who knows how to cross a street even without the help of a pedestrian lane. When she was a child, she used to play Patintero all day and this is how she got her jaywalker skills. Whoever said that only guys loved the chase?

Find a girl who is averse to pedestrian lanes.She knows that life is not a series of straight lines; that life can take the shape of whatever she wants it to be. (Ano daw?) You’ll know her by her gait; the way she walks at the speed of light when crossing intersections. You would think she is the personification of grace under pressure. But while crossing the street, you can feel her pulse racing two beats at a time and you realize that this brave woman also gets scared. Take this as a cue to hold her hand while you are crossing busy streets, even if crossing is prohibited. Marvel at her sense of adventure, her street smarts, her risk-taking abilities, and her determination to push forward despite obstacles like speeding vehicles. 

Celebrate life with a girl who jaywalks. You will share a siomai or two or many a Jamaican Pattie with her after successfully crossing streets. She will propose a toast and you will clink your C2 Green Tea bottle against her Coke can. You will appreciate how low maintenance she is; how she can be satisfied with these simple celebrations.  

Date a girl whose charm can weaken even the strictest MMDA. When she gets caught, she will smile her innocent smile at the enforcer, explain that this was more convenient for her, and end up having the enforcer, instead of taking her to the precinct, escort her across the street. If she can charm the authorities, surely she can charm anyone - including your family.    

If you find a girl who jaywalks, accept her free spirit. And most importantly, treat her right. Because if you don’t, she’ll walk-out on you without a second thought. Pun intended. 

Note: This post has no aim of encouraging people to break the law. Jaywalk at your own risk ladies.

Image from here.

IV.

(c) Melai Pinlac and Nick Sumcad, May 2012, Bolinao, Pangasinan
"My alone feels so good, I'll only have you if you're sweeter than my solitude." - Warsan Shire

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Meowwwwwww.

Eto ang totoong #selfie

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Lady of the Lake

Kayangan Lake, Coron, Palawan (c) Ivan Nebres, May 8 2013
Last year, in Camiguin, I fell in love with waterfalls. Last week, in Coron, I fell in love with lakes.

The best Php150 I spent on entrance fee, even better than a ride-all-you-can pass at any amusement park in the Philippines. If only I could bring this lake into our backyard (kahit wala kaming backyard?). I can't help but think of Desiderata when looking at this picture.


Exactly a week ago, I was in an eatery at the Coron public market having dinner with friends; we were sipping Bulalo soup when the power resumed...and then it went out again. Funny how one side of the town was lighted while the other side (unfortunately, the side where we were eating) was submerged into temporary darkness. That was our first night in Coron. Our activity that day was surmounting the 720 steps up Mount Tapyas, dragging our feet back down, all the while wishing there was a zip line we could ride back down, and then passing out as soon as we reached our air-conditioned hotel room. We stayed at Amor Pension House which is about twenty minutes away from Coron town proper.


I liked the place where we stayed, mainly because there was a videoke machine. Haha! We watched cable TV in the morning until we hear our tour guide knock on our door. The pillows and bed sheets were clean. I'm not anal about this stuff but the pillows were so huggable I slept soundly each night. 


On day 2, we went to Kayangan Lake. Day 3 was for Barracuda Lake (Where we saw a Barracuda! Surprise, surprise!) and the Twin Lagoon. Aside from the lakes, we also went snorkeling. Although, for me, Balicasag in Bohol still remains to be the best snorkeling site EVER. An army of tube-like  jelly fishes served as welcoming committee as we visited the shipwreck and other snorkeling sites. The beaches were not much different from the pristine waters of Camiguin, the sand as fine as polvoron. On our third day, a jelly fish the size of a hamburger bun interfered with our beach bumming activities. We chose to stay away from the water, however inviting and refreshing it seemed. Instead we had fun making 'graceful' jump shot attempts until we were sunburnt. After that, we purchased a 1.5L of Coke to rehydrate and laughed at the most stupid knock knock jokes we can think of. 


All in all, the lakes stood out. You can just close your eyes, float effortlessly (since you're wearing a lifevest) and say out loud: This is the life! Or in my case, I felt like the lady of the lake suffering from a bad case of bedhead and wearing an orange lifevest to keep me from drowning. No, I don't even know how to swim. Walang pakialamanan.


Lastly, the food! I enjoyed eating in Coron. Kahit sa mga simpleng carinderia lang kami kumain, ang saaaaraaaap ng pagkain! My favorites are Coron Central's Kare Kare, the overflowing Alimasag and ripe mangoes during the island hopping days, and the roast chicken at the public market. Oh, and try their danggit! I'm not sure if there is a distinct delicacy inherent to the town though.


And now, here's us giving Coron our seal of approval :)



At Barracuda Lake :)

III.

"So plant your own garden and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers." (Jorge Luis Borges)

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

II.

“Marry your best friend. I do not say that lightly. Really, truly find the strongest, happiest friendship in the person you fall in love with. Someone who speaks highly of you. Someone you can laugh with. The kind of laughs that make your belly ache, and your nose snort. The embarrassing, earnest, healing kind of laughs. Wit is important. Life is too short not to love someone who lets you be a fool with them. Make sure they are somebody who lets you cry, too. Despair will come. Find someone that you want to be there with you through those times. Most importantly, marry the one that makes passion, love, and madness combine and course through you. A love that will never dilute - even when the waters get deep, and dark.”
—N’tima

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

#Selfie


I have been rebonding my hair for five years straight. And suddenly, I don't want to do it anymore so I cut it all off. Now, it's back to its original curly state. It feels like everyday is a bad hair day. But it's okay. Sometimes, I regret cutting it but most of the time, I'm fine with how it looks. :)


I procrastinate every now and then but I'm no slacker. Kabisado ko na ang sarili ko 'pag dating sa work (I know myself well, at least when it comes to work). I may not be the type who takes work seriously  too seriously but I can proudly say that I'm good at what I do. Not the best but competent enough.


I have lesser temper tantrums now compared to when I was younger. Haha. I've realized that it's okay to feel irritated or sad or not in the mood but it's not  an excuse to start treating people like shit or to drag other people down to share your misery.


The L word. Yes, love. As Laida Magtalas would say: Big word. Strong word. Learned not to throw this word around. And learned not to be in love with the idea of being in love. (This part is so cheesy. Pagbigyan. Hahaha.)


I like myself better now than when I was in my early 20s. My early 20s was  full-on raging hormones, a time full of mistakes and rash decisions. Not that I did not enjoy making those mistakes (although, some I do regret doing), heck, I learned from all those bad moments. Most of the things I remember from when I was younger were things that scarred me. Now I keep the scars in sight, to remind me of the things I should never ever do again.


Also, not to say that I did not like myself back then. I was a risk-taker... to a fault. But I've changed; I know how to use my head now, instead of just blindly following my heart. I've learned to take care of myself better. I've learned self-respect.


I like myself  better, as I am, in the here and now. I hope I'll feel the same down the road. Hey, life can only get better :)


Image from here.


Thursday, May 2, 2013

Meltdown

You were okay.
You were okay but you see something that throws your equilibrium away.
You see something that throws your equilibrium away and you try to control your temper.
You try to control your temper and try to convince yourself that you have no right to be angry.
You try to convince yourself that you have no right to be angry but the anger still bubbles inside you and you try to conceal it.
You try to conceal it but then you also want to talk about it but you’re tired of people undermining your issues.
You try to control your temper again and then something happens.
Usually you let it go and don’t make a fuss about it.
But then you just blow your fuse and you rage at the simplest things.
And you drink in your rage, you drown in it. There seems to be no holding back any longer.

Monday, April 22, 2013

Marital Affairs



Tea would calm me down, he thought as he put the kettle on. It’s been a while since he had the house to himself and he felt uneasy. He was unaccustomed to the house being so silent without his daughter.

Little Nell’s attending a slumber party at Lucy’s. It was Lucy’s birthday. She’s at that age already, Richie thought. He wondered when his daughter would finally refuse to be kissed in front of her friends. Or when she would demand to be called Ellen instead of Little Nell. Time, it goes too fast.

He pushed the thought away. He didn’t need – didn’t want- to think about that now. What he needed was to enjoy this rare moment of solitude. He switched the TV on and settled for the 6 o’clock news on Channel 7.

“Three patients escaped from the local mental ward this afternoon. Two are already in custody while the other is still at large. The third patient allegedly sprayed Finesse on the orderlies’ eyes. How the patient got the hair spray is still being investigated. The said patient is manic-depressive and has been institutionalized because of violent outbursts in the past.”

A chill ran down Richie’s spine. His breathing came in short, shallow gasps. He muted the TV. Jane, he’s sure it was Jane.

His first memory of his wife –ex-wife – was the scent of Finesse. She was addicted to it. He met her on a blind date. At first, he thought it was sweet – how Jane took the time to style her hair for a blind date. He found out later on, when they got married, that she used hair spray every single day: Jane standing in front of the mirror, spraying away before she went to the market; a little touch-up before dinner; throwing a fit when his hands wander through her hair while they kissed. The scent of hair spray permeated their whole house when they were still living together, all those seven years before the divorce.

And it was that scent – the one he always associated with unripe bananas, so sweet yet so bitter – that polluted the air he was breathing at the moment, turning his mouth dry. Why didn’t he notice it moments before?

Richie suddenly realized how alone he was, sitting on his leather couch with the TV as the only source of light. He tried to think straight. He was relieved for the first time that Little Nell wasn’t with him. He stood up and switched on the lights. That’s why I feel so out of it. He was about to check every room when he heard her voice from the kitchen.

Richard, dear, you forgot about the kettle again.

He froze.

Richard! Richarrrd! Richarrrd! I said you forgot about the kettle! Riiiichiiieeee!!!!

He heard her footsteps coming nearer the living room.

Hello honeeyy! It’s been so long, Jane said, as she hugged him.

Hey Janie. Let me just turn the stove off. He said. Jane released her and followed him into the kitchen. She sat at the dining table, her right hand cupping her chin. Her brown eyes were wide and unblinking, following Richie’s every move.  She watched as he poured the contents of the kettle into a thermos.

Honey your hands are shaking. Do you want me to do it for you? She asked in a sing-song voice.

Richie shook his head and said: I can manage.

But you’re all trembly. Are you tired? Do you want a massage? Jane stood and started to approach Richie. Richie backed away and hit a wall.

Are you afraid darling? Don’t be. I’ve changed you know. I don’t start fights now y’know. Not like before. She said while caressing his right shoulder.

Not like before. Before: she would throw anything she could get her hands on when she was angry. Richie thought this was normal. Everybody’s got a tipping point. Until the outbursts became more frequent. And it was not just the anger, but the series of feelings she can have in a span of a few minutes. She can sob over a messy living room floor, laugh at herself for crying, become infuriated at the mess and start throwing things around. Richie chalked it up to stress; she’s probably still adjusting to being a new mom, trying to learn the ropes of both motherhood and running a household.

One day Richie arrived from work and heard Little Nell crying. He could also hear Jane’s shouts stemming out from the living room. His pulse started to quicken and he ran from the garage, straight to the living room. He found Little Nell slumped on the carpet, her nose bleeding. Jane was pacing the floor, rambling.

Richie picked up Little Nell quickly and carried her to the kitchen, got an icepack, and put it on her bleeding nose. The child whimpered in pain. He kissed her forehead. He waited for the bleeding to subside and then went upstairs to put Little Nell in her bed. Meanwhile, Jane continued to shout like a banshee in the living room.

Jane! Stop it! Stop it! What’s the matter with you! He bellowed from the stairs, barely containing his anger.

With me? What’s the matter with her? I clean every nook and cranny and here she goes shitting on her diaper. She’s a smelly thing. I change her and then she runs around writing on the walls with crayon. Does she know what clean means??? I bet she doesn’t, she’s a smelly thing I tell you. Get her away from meeeee! Or I’ll slap her good until she gets what cleanliness means! I will, I tell you, I wiiiillll.

Richie was dumbfounded. This isn’t his wife anymore, it’s like she’s possessed. Jane continued to pace on the floor, kicking imaginary dust bunnies once in a while. She wouldn’t stop mumbling. She was so caught up in her own reverie that she didn’t notice Richie picking up the phone, dialling the police station’s number.

That was the end of their marriage. Jane was detained and then admitted to an institution. She was diagnosed with manic depression sometime later.

Jane continued to massage Richie’s shoulder. He noticed bruises on her wrists and tried, once again, to move away from her. She caught him looking.

These? Those orderlies were very bad to me. I only wanted to eat chocolates but they wouldn’t give it. So I threw the tray at them. I told them they were assholes. ASSHOLES, ASSHOLES. I invented a chant for them. I was so smart. Every time they visited my room, I start to chant. I even splashed them with soup. I was only trying to let them give me chocolate but look what they’ve done. They tied me to my bed. I didn’t mind. I could still chant at them. She let out a high-pitched laugh at the memory.

Richie you look like one of ‘em orderlies. Her eyes bulged as she grabbed at his neck, choking him. She let out little grunts of anger as her fingers locked tighter into Richie’s throat. He tried to wriggle away from her grip but the more he tried, the harder it was to breathe. He felt his throat closing in, his eyes weary and heavy. And then there was the scent of cloying, bittersweet, unripe bananas before finally, everything fell into darkness. 

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Short but Sweet

Love,

I asked for two options but just so you know, those two options both have you in it. :) :)

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Rejection Slips and Rewrites (Overhauled)

**Here's the revised :)

“Jump!”


I look down and my toes start to curl around the edge of the rock I’m standing on as if trying to hold on and say: No way. It is a long way down. I flatten myself against the cave wall. I am jolted forward in surprise as a protruding stone lodges itself on the small of my sweat-soaked back.  I almost fall, if not for my life vest, one of its many strings got tangled on the stone’s edge.  Even the stone’s giving me a little push. I unknot my life vest, checked that there was no damage, and resumed hesitating to jump on the precipice.


“Come on, at the count of three ha!”


I can see five neon green life vests below, not quite blending into the emerald water. My friends, all five of them, already took the plunge and they were egging me on, their cheers resonant inside the cave walls. Every summer we go out of town. This year we’re backpacking in the Northern Philippines. We were in Bolinao just yesterday. Tonight we’re heading off to Baguio. Right now, I’m standing inside a cave on Marcos Island, one of the Hundred Isles in Alaminos, Pangasinan. The cave’s main attraction is the 20 feet of free fall into the pool of water below.


Why do we always end up doing some kind of risky activity each time we go on vacation? My friends have this penchant for trying out new (and dangerous) experiences like zip lining, canyon swings, and helmet diving. For them it’s fun; for me it’s tempting fate. I usually sit out on these activities. But, when I absolutely have no choice, I dawdle when it’s my turn - like what I’m doing now. It takes loads of cheering (which sometimes leads to bullying) and reassurance that everything will be okay before I’d be convinced to get it done and over with.


I’d like to think that I was adventurous when I was younger. I used to climb mountains. I’ve rock climbed Mt. Batulao’s old trail without any rope for support when I was 18. I used to surf, too. When I get bored at home, I go up our roof and lie down on it. So, no, I don’t have acrophobia. I’m no aquaphobe either.   


Everything changed when I turned twenty. I’m 26 now, by the way. Our next door neighbor’s kid died in a car accident. Shiela was her name. Her dad lost control of the car and they crashed into a concrete barrier. The roads were slippery because there was a storm that day. Her dad survived but Shiela, well, she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt. We were of the same age.


I stopped going up the roof shortly after her death. I turned down invites to climb. And, yes, I stopped surfing. Back then, I was bewildered. I didn’t know why I stopped. Sheila and I were not close but her death left a bad taste in my mouth.


Thinking about it now, I figured what she gave me was a taste of my own mortality. Before she passed away, death was just an abstraction to me – a far-off notion applicable to those who were 60 and up only. I never knew anyone close to me who died in their 20s until Shiela’s passing away. The effect was I no longer wanted to tempt fate by doing the things I used to.


 “Talon na. At the count of three ha!”


I don’t know how long I have been standing on the precipice but my legs were starting to feel numb. As my friends start to count, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and utter a silent prayer. Well, not really a prayer but more of a question: “Lord, oras ko na ba?”


I hear my friends shout. “One, two, three!”


I wanted to jump but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Monday, March 25, 2013

Rejection Slips and Rewrites

           “Jump!”

I look down and my toes start to curl around the edge of the rock I’m standing on as if trying to hold on and say: No way. It is a long way down.

“Come on, at the count of three ha!”

My friends, all five of them, already took the plunge and they were trying to egg me on, their cheers echoing inside the cave walls. I check my life vest for the nth time, making sure that everything is in place, that it was secure.

We go out of town every summer. We’re backpacking in the Northern part of the country this year. We were in Bolinao just yesterday. Tonight we’re heading off to Baguio. Right now, I’m standing inside a cave on Marcos Island, one of the Hundred Isles in Alaminos, Pangasinan. The only way out of the cave is to jump, 20 feet of free fall, into the pool of emerald water below.

Why do we always end up doing some kind of risky activity each time we go on vacation? I don’t know why my friends have this penchant for trying out new (and dangerous) experiences like zip lining, canyon swings, and helmet diving. I try to avoid these activities. When I absolutely have no choice, I dawdle when it’s my turn, like what I’m doing now. It takes loads of cheering and reassurance that everything will be okay before I’d be convinced to get it done and over with.

I’m twenty six now and it’s a shame that I’ve lost my childlike wonder. I wasn’t like this in my teenage years. I used to climb mountains. I’ve rock climbed Mt. Batulao’s old trail without any rope for support when I was 18. I used to surf, too. I go up our roof and lie down on it just because I can. When I turned twenty, everything changed. I stopped hiking because I worry about slipping into a cliff and be left for dead. I don’t surf anymore. What would happen to me if there’s suddenly a tsunami? And I wonder why the hell I go up on the roof anyway. I became scared of adventure and I don’t know why. Really, I don’t know.

At this very moment, of course, I’m scared. Of what? Of heights? Water? Caves? No. I’m scared that everything might go wrong -like if I jump, what if my head hits a rock? Or if my life vest doesn’t work? Or if I forget how to swim? I guess as you age, you start to become more paranoid thus you tend to choose the “safe” route and avoid anything that might put your life in peril before you’ve accomplished all the things you dream of. Or maybe, I am just being a coward, plain and simple.

“Talon na. At the count of three ha!”

As my friends start to count, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and utter a silent prayer. Well, not really a prayer but more of a question: “Lord, oras ko na ba?”

I hear my friends shout. “One, two –“

I don’t wait for three and just jump.

*Verdict: IN but needs an overhaul.

Monday, February 25, 2013

Old writing notebook

*Two days after my 25th birthday, Dec 2011

She turned 25 a couple of days ago. Gone were the days when birthdays seemed so special - a day you look forward to when you were just a little kid. She wasn't that young anymore and she knew it.

Somehow, "All the Love in the World" kept playing in her head and not for the first time that day, she asked herself if she was ready. She doesn't want to fall into the trap of thinking that she's ready to fall in love again when she's really not. It has been an obsessive thought lately. Something that she doesn't want to think about anymore. She knows that if she's indeed ready, she wouldn't have to ask herself that question anymore. She'll just know.

** January 26 2012
Sometimes I feel the my world shake. The slightest tremor sends anxiety to my already addled brain. It's as if my soul is moving parallel with the earth's core, sending slivers of alarm, alerting me that something inside might collapse.

(P.S. I don't know what this meant. Probably pretty sure I was stressed out during this time.)

***June 1 2012
When I went to Baguio last month, there was this pure moment of contentment that I felt. We were praying inside the Our Lady of Atonement Church and I just felt this utter sense of contentment: that there might be something still missing but I love my life as it is anyway. I've got everything I need.

(P.S. I need to be reminded of that feeling again :) )

Saturday

I woke up giddy. Today I'd pass my Graduate studies application form. I went to La Salle, armed with my long envelope, straight to the admissions office. Time check: 12:30 pm. There was a long line. I guess there isn't a lunch break on Saturdays as the personnel continued to process applications even at this hour. I sat there, feeling a little nervous. My papers were still incomplete. My transcript of records was still being processed at UP. I didn't know that first time applicants for TOR would need to wait for 1-2 months to get a copy of grades. When I requested last January, I thought I would have it in two weeks, just in time for the 1st term application period in DLSU. Application for 1st term was in February.

So when it was already my turn, I presented my papers: app form, letters of recommendation, good moral cert, CV, and personal statement.

"Where's your TOR?"
"Pwede bang to follow na lang once admitted?"

The person I talked to was accomodating naman but he was new so he consulted a senior staff regarding my inquiry. But unfortunately, they said they couldn't process the application without the TOR since it's one of the major requirements.

I argued (of course, amicably) : "But this is just for testing permit pa lang naman right? I'm not even sure if I'll get admitted pa (insert weak smile here). Hindi ba talaga pwedeng to follow?"

"Sorry ma'am but as early as now we need to have the TOR so we can do pre-evaluation. Don't worry may second term pa naman. I'm sure your TOR will be ready by then. Ang tagal pala ng processing ng UP."

I thanked him and got out of the office. I couldn't smile after that. How stupid of me to think that the record of grades would be insignificant. Yes, I got accepted at work without presenting any TOR but this is the academe we're talking about genius girl. Should've could've secured all the requirements first instead of relying on gut feel.

February isn't my month. I wondered, on the way home, what else could possibly go wrong. I got depressed. Ivan advised me to call DLSU first thing today (Monday) and ask if I can present the receipt of my TOR request and if it will suffice at this point. That was a good idea. But, surprise surprise. I cannot find the receipt. I cannot. I've searched every nook and cranny of our house. It's clear to me that I've put it inside my red document envelope where all important life documents are, the one I've had since 4th year high school. But it wasn't there. FML. Dear God are you trying to tell me something? I swear if it turns up some time in April I am going to go crazy.

Ok, I know there's always the second term. And maybe, maybe this is a blessing in disguise. Nonetheless, it's frustrating. That old cliche of taking away candy from a child, even before she can sink her teeth into it. But this is my lifelong dream and,come hell or high water, I will chase it and fight for it. But if I want to win, first things first, I have to make sure all my guns are locked and loaded. Now, let's get those requirements completed.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Today's Happy Pill!

Cheesy Beef Jamaican Pattie for Brunch! :)

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

There goes the light, it just went out.



How do I feel? Like crap. Like all my energy just went down the drain. How can a simple picture make me feel so bad? Maybe it was the look in their eyes. They were happy, they were together, and they smiled like they were happy to be together.

I saw him the day after the picture was posted. I was in a funk, out of sorts. Catatonic even. I was sluggish, my voice just above a whisper. I made unremarkable comments about the food, about my day. He said, "Parang matamlay ka yata ngayon." I smirked. I wanted to scream. It's because of you, you idiot! I wanted so bad to tell him. Drag him into my disgusting misery. But I can't, I won't.

We're friends. First and foremost, we're friends. Before I fell in love with him, we were friends first. And friends want their friends to be happy. Whatever feelings I have should be placed in the back burner. Besides, we've already talked about it a couple of times and things never work out. It's just not meant to be. And I want him to be happy. I think he already is.

Good for him. Damn good for him.

Goodbye Kafka, Veronika, and Lestat

I have to admit that it's a bit sad to let go of my books. Some I had way back in college as part of required reading in my English classes. Most of them, though, I bought with my hard earned money when I started working.

Books. They're the equivalent of retail therapy to me. Some girls buy clothes, others shoes, but me I buy books to make me feel better. Sometimes, I'm even hesitant to buy new clothes. But if I find a book I like, I'll buy it, I wouldn't even think twice. So, yeah, it's hard to part with all the stories I've read and related to all these past years. Of course, there are books I would never sell like Anansi Boys, Cunnigham's The Hours, my Harry Potter series, my Ian Rankin collection. Those will stay put. I plan to pass it on to my sons and daughters in the near future.

But then again, there's a silver lining (aside from earning a little extra). To be honest, I don't get much out of selling them anyway. I just wanted to clear out some shelf space at first. Sorry, I digress. The silver lining: whenever a customer (customer talaga? hahahaha) says "Thank you" and you see that they're really happy with the books - like they've found a long lost friend.

I have been meeting up with buyers and it has been an interesting experience so far. Especially for an anti-social, introvert like moi. Last Friday I met this mom who studied Lit during her undergrad years. She's older than my mom who's in her late 40s. We've chatted a bit and I learned that she works as a call center representative to support her child and she claimed, good-naturedly, to be the oldest rep in her department. She loves reading; she bought Murakami, Vonnegut, and Garcia Marquez from me. I told her to please explain Kafka on the Shore to me when she's done reading it. I have never been a fan of Murakami and I won't pretend that I understand half of the time what he was trying to say in the novel.

Somehow, meeting different people - book lovers like me, nonetheless - leaves me smiling. And when you feel that there's a connection between you and this complete stranger through your shared interest in books, that's, well, priceless.