Greetings!

Well, this is a belated Christmas Greeting and an advance Happy New Year's to all people who've touched my goddamned f-ing life!

Thank you for making another year a memorable one for me!

Looking forward to another year of whatever-ness!

=p

Para Sa'yo (Parokya ni Edgar)

Lumayo ka na sa akin
'Wag mo kong kausapin
Parang awa mo na
'Wag kang magpapaakit sakin
Ayoko lang masaktan ka
Malakas ako mambobola

Hindi ako santo

Pero para sayo
Ako'y magbabago
Kahit mahirap
Kakayanin ko
Dahil para sayo
Handa akong magpakatino
Laging isipin
Lahat ay gagawin
Basta para sayo

Hindi ikaw ung tipong niloloko
At hindi naman ako yung tipong nagseseryoso
At kahit sulit sana sa'yo ang kasalanan
Lolokohin lang kita

Kaya kung pwede wag nalang

Dahil ayoko nang masaktan ka
'Wag kang maniniwala
Hindi ako santo
Pero para sayo
Ako'y magbabago
Kahit mahirap
Kakayanin ko
Dahil para sayo
Handa akong magpakatino
Laging isipin
Lahat ay gagawin
Basta para sayo

Bakit nakikinig ka pa?
Matatapos na ang kanta
Pinapatakas na kita mula nung una stanza
Hindi ka ba natatakot?
Baka ikaw ay masangkot sa mga kasalanan ko

Pero para sayo

Ako'y magbabago

Kahit mahirap

Kakayanin ko

Dahil para sayo

Handa akong magpakatino

Laging isipin

Lahat ay gagawin

Basta para sayo

This Chicken Has Flown The Coop (or will be) and Other Updates

I think my roommate and I have already found a perfect place. It's this studio-type condo at Citiland 8 along Buendia. The rent is a little steep but it is fully furnished so that's one less thing to worry about. Will still spend Christmas here at mi casa de familia, but I'm moving outta here as soon as the year's over.

I just don't know how feeling a tad guilty fits in here, but for some reason, it feels like I'm throwing away the support system that is my mother. Of course, she's still her 'you'll-never-gonna-make-it-without-us' standard spiel but after offering some stuff from our house to set up in my new place, the condescending barbs belies the fact that she will still miss me (and I, her).

Thinking about it, growing up in a household full of boys, its inevitable that my mother and I will always stick up for each other sans the Electra-complex, so I feel really bad about leaving her behind with only a moody teenager (a cousin), and two stinky boys (my two brothers) to live with.

But yeah, life moves on, and as my second brother said before he got married 8 years ago, you'll know when it's time to go.

And I guess, for me, this is the time.

Sniff.

I'm just gonna miss my mom's cooking especially her mean pork giniling and For-New-Year's-Only Lasagna.

- - -

Work is okay. That's all I'm ever gonna say about it.

- - -

I miss my friends, and I hope we all get together soon and do something about or long-pending website.

Same goes for my former officemates.

- - -

I hate rejecting cool music assignments but I'm glad my editor still loves me enough to give me assigments that won't conflict with my work schedule.

And yeah, I miss covering events with JayDj. O sige na nga, pati si Jhamie.

- - -

I guess that's it...I hope everybody will have a happy Holidays!

Bummer

Was really looking forward to covering the Ultraelectormagneticjam Eraserheads Tribute Concert on Tuesday and the MTV Aids Summit Staying Alive Concert on Thursday with Jay and Jhamie but it all went kaput when I learned that my shift for the next three weeks will start from 9pm. I asked my trainer if I can file for a VL atleast for 1 day (So that I will only problematize which event would I sacrifice), but she didn't approve. What with transition and all, everything is crucial.

Of course I understood, and my schedule is not THAT bad really, because of the hours, I would be able to get all the OT for the night shift...and Monday is holiday so, that's double pay and with Christmas approaching and plans of moving out early next year, I would really need all that money that I can earn.

But still...

Those would've been cool events to cover.

(*sighing wistfully*)

I'm not a happy camper this weekend.

It's Over

It's all over on Yahoo News...Jessica and Nick have finally hit Splitsville...oh..how sad.

Tsk..tsk...celebrity marriages, they never last, do they?

Void

Anyone whose goal is 'something higher'

must expect someday to suffer vertigo.

What is vertigo? Fear of falling?

No, vertigo is something other than fear of falling.

It is the voice of the emptiness below us

which tempts and lures us,

it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified,

we defend ourselves.

Milan Kundera, "The Unbearable Lightness of Being"

I’ve been trying to fill up this void since the past couple of years. Mostly I was able to ward off the sadness that had enveloped me but there are still times when I just can’t shake it off. The ability to grasp pain, to finally crush it within my palm is still as elusive as it had been the moment the final goodbye had been uttered.

Isn’t pain that powerful? How can it consume and gnaw at every remnant and vestige of one’s being, leaving nothing but heaps of a carcass ready to be eaten by vultures. But you can never get a hold of it, oh no. It will trick you into thinking that it has retreated, that you won. But false bravado will never hold for long. What has been bottled up inside will soon burst out. And yes, there will be nothing but space.

Like the crescent-shaped bruises left at the back of one’s hand after being tightly clasped, the bruises may disappear but the sharpness of the nail digging at your skin is enough to make you re-member.

The need to touch something alive is sharper now.

The hunger brought about by the years of wanting is more acute.

But the deal was shook upon. It was offered to me and I accepted. There was no other choice then. Either way, it would still have been the same. I'd still be living this wretched life for years to come. Watching silently as each hand I grasp pulls away because they cannot withstand my deathly-cold palm.

I live, but not really living. Despite the throbbing pulse, there are no other signs of vitality. Maybe in death...there will be.

Chizmosas and Possessed Elevators

One bleary morning, I was on my way home, riding the LRT. I was more tired that morning because I passed by the publishing house first to pick up some magazines and cheques after the shift so my head was lolling like a grotesque puppet doll against the train's glass windows. Somewhere during the ride I was shaken out of my stupor when this Chinese family entered the train designated for women. There were four of them, the mother and father plus the two daughters that looked like they've been pulled out straight out from a Koreanovela or Asianovelas or whatever the hell you call them these days. They caught everyone's attention immediately because they started yakking in their native language and you know how loudmouthed Chinese people can be even during ordinary convo so everyone was staring at them, trying to mentally shut them up or maybe just out of plain fascination.

When they alighted at R. Papa, I knew immediately that their destination was the Chinese North Cemetery to probably visit some relatives from mainland CHina that migrated here and died or, you know, whatever. But before they went down, they were admiring the view of the kalachuchis in full bloom and the grand mausoleums from the LRT so they were chatting excitedly like monkeys and pointing and stuff. And then, some uziseras and chizmosas who were passing by, actually stood beside them to see what the ruckus was about kinda like when you're in the mall then you look up and point at something how everybody would look up too. Its so amusing yet irritating at the same time. Sheesh.

- - -

Brace yourself for this scary mother story...

Since I started working, I hated my location from the get go because its this really old, rickety building in Makati called the Insular Building. Fortunately, we only have to stay there during the duration of the training after which, we might transfer over to RCBC plaza, or the one in Ortigas, or hopefully, the newly constructed Convergys building beside Makati Med.

Anyways, since the building is really old they are now renovating the lobby but still the building smells and looks old with stained linoleum floors and creeping elevators, hence, a sinister-like quality surrounds it.

One rainy Friday night, our trainer was nowhere around and we have been bumming around for over tow hours when we were summoned over to the 6th floor (we were staying on the 4th) to join this other class while passing around the time.

When we got up there, I realized that our batchmate we called "Mommy" went down to the bank and therefore, does not know where we are so I told Gracie the trainer that I'll fetch Mommy myself. I was waiting for the elevators, lost in thought because of the unbelievable low salary I got when the third elevator opened.

I went in, punched four, still ruminating on some trivial stuff that I cannot even remember anymore when I realized that the elevator went up and stopped on the 8th floor. I thought that part was really weird since I WAS sure the elevator was supposed to go down but what freaked me out was when the doors opened, there was only empty space and UTTER DARKNESS on the other side! I somehow managed to throw my orange shawl over my head (blocking my range of vision) and furiously punching the CLOSE button while muttering all sorts of prayer, incantation, and swear words while trying to prevent myself from collapsing in fear.

The last thing that I remember was that the door was jerking like something was trying to enter or something was stuck in the middle before it finally closed and descended to my destination. As soon as I was inside my trainingroom, I was so visibly shaken and even now that the incident happened almost a week ago, I still feel the fear. My heart still pounds a mile a minute whenever I remember the darkness that loomed before me.

Apparently,the same thing was also experience by most of my batchmates abut Ate Tess, the operator for elevator one, claimed that the elevators were programmed to go up at the 8th floor.

At first we believed her, but then we realized that if it's really programmed it should stop and open at EVERY floor but how come even if the arrow is pointing down, it still goes up to 8th floor?

We also learned from other occupants that as soon as the clock strikes 5 pm, 8th floor occupants desert the area immediately on the dot. No one EVER stays there for OT and by 6 pm all lights are shut off by then, so why should they program the elevator on an unoccupied floor?

But the most terrifying thing is this, our trainer told us that the daughter of the building's owner committed suicide during construction and when she jumped from the 12th floor, she was decapitated, where else, but on the 8th floor.

Jeepers. Just typing that gave me the shivers all over again. I'd better sign off now. Shit.

Launch of My Gallery

Will post all pics of artists/event that I've met/attended...soon!

Sneaks

My sweet nice ass is jumping out in excitement right now because payday is just a few hours away. After weeks of utter 'impotence,' you will be seeing crossed lines on my wishlist...(insert evil laugh). I'm supposed to be recording for accent training right now but intonation exercises are so boring that's why since my trainer is busy doing one on one, I have visited and commented on manong guard's and kidflash's site (which I should link to my blog one of these days)...drowning myself in tori amos MP3's that can be found here. Dang! It takes about a bat of an eyelash to download everything that I still get surprised.

3 hours left until the end of the shift...*sigh*

Hell Is Other People

Just got home after my first day of work. Yeah, its another call center but I just need the money so badly and the only way of making myself not to quit that easily was to apply for a call center that requires a bond. So there. Besides Christmas is just around that bend, and as much as I find the Holiday trivial and exhausdting, I still have to make my godchildren and nephews happy.

I also want to buy a nifty Digital SLR cam like the one Jhamie has or something like it. Para ayuz...hehe. Sawa na akong magpapiktyur kasama ang mga popstars, rockstars, and the like.

- - -

Boring, boring, boring. Lalo na pag naalala ko na may gig kagabi yung Kamikazee sa Mayric's at inimbitahan ako (kame). At pag naririnig kong mag Amspeak con todo yung mga hinayupak na officemates ko na parang kala mo nasa Cincinnati, Ohio talaga kame, parang gusto kong magback out at bayaran na lang yung 20,000 na bond ko.

Pero shempre, in the end, as Jhamie texted, "think about the moolah."

- - -

Meron din isang nakakabwisit na bata na ka-batch ko (UP undergraduate kase so feeling niya isa siyang Diyos.) Masyadong marameng energy. Scenario: Hindi naman depressed pero uminom ng dalawang tabletas ng Prozac. Ganun. Sobra sa pa-bibo palibhasa first job niya. Kaso nung may exercise kame na gumawa daw ng Map namin about our journey at Convergys, aba'y narinig ko sa kabilang mesa, pinipilit sa mga groupmates niya ang konsepto ng metaphor sa isang boses na rinig ng lahat ng tao. Kinang-ina. Hindi ba niya alam sabe ni Kafka, metaphors kill literature. Ako nga lit major pero puro kabulastugan ang ginagawa ko dun sa poster namin at hindi mo ako maririnig na nage-exhort tungkol sa theories on the history of sexuality ni Michel Foucault kahit I'm so damn bored na.

Pero atleast, casually detached na ako sa kanila. Wala na akong balak magma-close sa kanila dahil hindi rin naman magtatagal ang pagsasama namin. Why complicate things further? Basta ang focus ko ngayon, yung trabaho ko sa Convergys at ang pagususulat ko. Tapos. Ay kasama pa pala Freefall dun...but that's IT. Marame ngang taga-Valenzuela sa officemates ko at nung nasa LRT kame nag-aya silang mag-meet on a certain time para sabay kameng papasok, tumanggi na lang ako. Politely naman, of course. Basta may discman ako pagpasok, keri na ako dun.

Anyway ayun...eto na ako. Gustong sipain ang sarili sa katarantaduhang akin na namang pinasok.

And in true existentialist fashion, the fault is mine alone.

Finish Line

One more article to go then I am homefree. Looking forward to watching "The 40 Year Old Virgin" tmorrow, with Jhamie and hopefully Ardee.

Yun.

Falling Apart

Everything is falling apart in this goddamned household. First the PS2 got busted....It won't turn on (but its okay because I don't play it much anymore but I have to fix it because I learned that Tomb Raider: Legend will be released on the last uarter of the year)

Then the microwave oven sparked yesterday morning, so we are now reheating leftovers the old fashioned way.

What's next?

- - -

Submitted one of my article (the Nina concert)...I'm halfway done with the Jimmy Bondoc/Paolo Santos article...same with PNE but I can't help but guffaw everytime I listen to the interview. Those are really funny sonofabitches.

After those I thought I was home free na but I promised the 6th Day article to Kuya Rons pa pala...Haay.

Toothless Fairy

Had one of my molars extarcted after a piece broke off during our night out at Monyat's. Damn its hurting.

People lie.

Hack

Deadlines that I owe for my editor:

1. Nina Concert coverage
2. Parokya ni Edgar interview
3. Jimmy Bondoc/Paolo Santos Benefit Concert.

This is all for Monday and I haven't written a single word. What the f*ck is wrong with me?

- - -

I'm scared. Terrified. But excited, somewhat. Will shed some light soon. Afraid to jinx 'it.'

Which Scarlet's Walk Song Are You?

You are "Sweet Sangria!" you're kinda
pissed off... one of the angrier scarlet
songs, nothing wrong with that.... really...
please don't hurt me!


Tori Amos: Which 'Scarlet's Walk' song are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Puffed Rice

It was my cousin’s wedding earlier. I just can’t believe she’s married. Tied to the old ball-and-chain. Damned to drag it behind her back ‘til death do her and her husband part. I should probably get used to the idea of it. She’s married. She is a recent Pol Sci grad, cum laude nonetheless, yet to turn 21, 8 months pregnant, and married. It’s just so surreal. Seeing her walk down the aisle, wearing a puffy, pink gown. And she looked so radiant, so pristine. Our eyes met for just the briefest of seconds as she was walking, and I hope she got what I am mentally telling her. That no matter what everyone says, I am behind her and I am not judging her. She nodded imperceptibly, as if to acknowledge that thought.

When I first saw her, after learning she was pregnant (her brother, who lives with us informed me that she is afraid to see me) I noticed how older she looked. Suddenly, she seems so weighted down with all of these things that I was afraid that her fragility would succumb to it but she didn’t. She continued to work, even though she’s very much well on her way. She held up her head high and graciously even if people were whispering, so very obviously, behind her back. She has fallen from grace, but she has risen above.

That was her destiny. Her path. Maybe it was not the path that she chose but she has something to look forward to; something to live for. I just wish her all the luck for that.

And no, Ailil, deep down in my gut I know I am not envious. Now I know for sure that this would not be the life that I would live (yeah, I’m a live-in girl).

I had to scoff once or twice (okay so much more than that) during the officiating minister’s misogynistic exhortations that were derived from the very patriarchal book called The Bible. He was droning about the wife being the doormat, or something so much more pleasant than that. When he got to the part where a woman should respect and follow what her husband says, I was ready to stab him in the eye with a toothpick. But my mother held me off.

Oh and during the reception (I hated the food though it was eat-all-you-can. I really don’t like native cuisines, for some reason) aunts and uncles and other people were asking me when would I get married. Fought the urge to stick my finger down my throat. One uncle even kept commenting that he thought I was Katya Santos because I was so fat. Oh, yeah, he was being so funny that I just gave him a withering look (and tried very hard to contain the scathing comeback that was threatening to pour out of my tongue) and continued to assemble my halo-halo. What a pain in the ass.

- - -

My deadlines are all piling up. I’m so way behind. Will finish up everything next week. What happened in the Muziklaban stunted me that for a while, I didn’t want to write anything that is music-related. But, yeah, I’ll finish them all next week.

- - -

Splurged 300 bucks on VCD’s last Thursday while I’m at SM North with Jay. Bought three cheesy romantic comedies: The Wedding Singer, One Fine Day, and Bedazzled. Okay, Bedazzled is not a romantic comedy, but Elizabeth Hurley is a one hot she-devil and Brendan Fraser is just so damn funny (the sensitive guy and his dolphin song definitely tops my list).

Pfeiffer/Clooney, Sandler/Barrymore have such a very good chemistry on screen. During the airplane scene of the Wedding Singer I was ready to bawl my eyes out so I had my Kleenex in handy. The kitchen-kissing scene of Michelle And the very-yummy George Clooney is so romantic; it left me in warm tingles that gave way to deep depression when the euphoria passed. Haay. Single life.

- - -

To Jhamie, get well soon. Toodles! See you on Saturday.

Hiling (Paramita)

thanks to karla redor for the lyrics.

- - -

Nahihirapan na ang aking isip

Nauubusan na ng sasabihin sa iyo..

Nanlalamig na ba ang pag-ibig mo sa ‘kin..

giliw..

Nalilito ako, nais kong sagipin ang ating

nalulunod na pag-ibig
Nguni’t handa akong palayain ka

Kung ito ang ‘yong hiling

Gaano man kasakit sa akin,

ibibigay sa yo

Ang tanging pakiusap lang

wag mo akong kalimutan..

Kay rami nang nagdaan

na pagsubok sa ting pag-ibig

Kakayanin pa kayang mabawi pa

ang mga nasabi nang masasakit na salita..

Kung ito ang yong hiling

gaano man kasakit sa akin..Ibibigay sa yo..

Nanlalamig na bang pag-ibig mo?

In Transit

Giddy with excitement because I just bought “The Bell JaR” and the “Diary of Anais Nin” for only 450php. Now THAT is a frigging steal considering that both books are in good condition. Thanks to Jay of eBay for these amazing finds!

- - -

Half of Freefall had an impromptu reunion last Friday.

I was on my way to SM North to meet Jay, when Monyat texted me and asked me to join her and Joi at Bo's Coffee Club. I did and soon Ryan followed, then Jhamie. Too bad Karen wasn't able to make it, which is understandable since it WAS a short notice.

I was expecting an afternoon of lounging over cups of coffee and milkshakes but it became a videoke session at Encore (horrible, horrible place!), and a very loong dinner at Mr. Kebab's where the topic of discourses ranged from illicit affairs, loyalty and friendship, rhetorics, chocolate factories (both old and new), and sexual jeepney and bicycle rides which moved on to watching the Thai film, "Ong Bak" over at Monyat's. We concluded the night by posing luridly for Jhamie's cool, cool cam. If it would be included in our upcoming literary folio, that has YET to be discussed.

Such a fun night, indeed.

- - -

Covered the Muziklaban Meet and Greet the Finalist last Wednesday (September 7) and the finals too just this Saturday. Both events were tiring yet fulfilling once Jhamie and I got sight of THE Bass God, Louie Talan. Thanks to brutalgrace of Pulp Magazine for so many info that she gave about Louie.

P.S. For those of you who do not know who Louie Talan is, he is the bassist for bands such as Razorback, Kapatid, Mishka Adams, Cynthia Alexander, Pinikpikan, iSpy, and Blues Echoes among others. He also produces most of the locals bands' albums with his company, Station 1 and many albums are recorded at Wombworks Studio, which he also owns. He also attends his kid’s PTA meetings. What a guy!

Sad note, though, I learned hours after the event that three people died during the event due to a stampede at the entrance, and unfortunately, one of my dear good friend Ryan’s students was one of the casualty. Can’t believe it. Poor, poor kids. Maybe that’s the operative word in here: kids.

- - -

No events scheduled for this week yet, but I might attend the OPM Crossroads 2 on September 16,17,18. And as early as now, Jay (of http://www.titikpilipino.com/) and Jhamie (we so need a week off from each other…nagdududa na ang nanay ko sa relasyon natin, honestly) are both ribbing me about the presence of Cueshe in the line up. What can I say, sometimes, someone in this universe is working overtime to answer my whims.

- - -

As for the previous entry, that is about a spic faggot that I met during one of those events. He’s the type who would bullshit (oh, there are many of those in this business) you like promising you jobs and stuff in exchange for giving them access to some events. This one here is garapal personified. He did something that set me off last Wednesday night and he got a mouthful from me (via Chikka SMS). There. That’ll teach him. Maybe now he would think twice before bullshitting someone else.

Fa Fa Fa Foul!*

*pidgin for "That is totally objectionable"

I should be writing my paper right now but my brother just installed a new video card in our pc and now I'm hooked on playing Sims 2 (Ho, the graphics are so amazing!)

So, no paper until I've finish playing. Besides, much as I enjoyed reading some post colonial theories I need to unwind after frisking my brain with appropriation, abrogation, and Homi Babha's theory of Hybridity. I deserved this break.

As for the title, I swear to god, I am SO not in the mood to interact with any gay men (read: opportunist faggots) right now. If I ever see that lolo (crazy) faggot, he gonna get it (he's gonna die)!

I hope i'm doing my code switchings right.

One more week, then I'll produce a paper that will blow even Ferda's socks off! Hah! Big Eye (ambitious)!

Enough

No more talks about past loves. They are all better left buried.

Heartbreak in Sepia

..and so the exorcism begins.

The Eighth

Maybe the injuries weren't past all cure.
No luck lasts; yours might not, too long, stay estranged;
Some things that you still loved might still endure.
It was all different; that, at least, seemed sure.

-W.D. Snodgrass (Mutability)

It was inevitable that I’d write this. That I’d have to write YOU.

If only to purge you out of my system once and for all. I was gathering all the things that have passed from your hand to my outstretched hands. At the darkest part of my closet still hangs every article of clothing that you ever wore where all traces of your betrayal seeped its way into the stitched fabric that also reeks of my reticent pain.

I am attempting to wade through again the stacks of letters that I stashed in the box, to read each word for the last time and watch them dissolve into a black blurs against the creamy white papers before I use it to light the flames on every memento that this relationship ever acquired exactly eight years ago on the eighth day of the eighth month.

This would be the funeral pyre that would exorcise every remaining vestiges of memory that had stubbornly lodged itself on every folds of my skin through the scars of wounds that would never quite heal because of the scimitar blade that slices through it every time I would feel the space in my cold bed.

Funny that I would turn to Voodoo in destroying you, how I expect to be rid of you while the fire dances and licks my skin as each flick of the wrist guarantees more ash that I will have to sweep in the morrow.

I have been battling you, my angel-turned-demon, for two whole years. For two whole years I pulled out every sliver of shattered pieces of memory that you calmly left, without so much as a backward glance.

How easy it was for you to turn your back and walk away. Traitors should be banished to Cocytus, ironically, to freeze in there forever but who seems to be banished now?

To curl up and be fetal is not enough to ward of the chills, not even in the refuge of a stranger’s embrace can melt the icy pain that was brought upon by your leaving.

I fervently wish by burning these, this dragging and painful journey would finally come to its end.

So maybe then I could finally let myself melt away like a candle burned to its wick until the wax hardens again, and the only remaining remnant is the curl of smoke that is rising up to be inhaled by someone else.

Me, to be inhaled by somebody else.

Treasures

I am now officially nearing bankruptcy because it seems that the ratio of my spending and earning capabilities has a very disparaging difference with spending on the higher end. The lure of eBay, Quiapo, and Divisoria is too hard to ignore that as usual, only I, myself am to blame in this dilemma.

But I think I managed to purchase some real treasures, you be the judge:

1. Fear of Fifty by Erica Jong (95 php at Booksale SM Lazaro)

2. Disappearing Acts by Virginia Woolf (152.50 php at eBay)

3. Lot of 3 Love Stories (120 php at eBay...I just can't let go of my childhood collection)

4. Charmed Season 1 DVD (300 php at Quiapo)

5. The Motorcycle Diaries DVD (60 php at Quiapo)

6. A Very Long Engagement DVD (60 php at Quiapo)

7. If These Walls Could Talk 1 DVD (50 php at Quiapo)

8. Mr. and Mrs. Smith DVD (50 php at Quiapo)

9. Sin City DVD (50 ph at Quiapo)

10. The Crime of Padre Amarro VCD (100 php at Odyssey SM Annex)

11. Inventing the Abbotts VCD (100 php at AstroVision SM north)

12. Flat Sandals (100 php at Divisoria)

13. Slingback Pointed Slip Ons (250 php at Divisoria, big brother took care of this one for me, though)

Total: Php 1137.50

Wow. Just seeing those in print made me cringed. How can I spend all of those money in 1 week? Actually, this would've been blown up to 15++ if my mother wasn't able to stop me from bidding on a kick-ass boots at eBay. She saved me just in the nick of time.

*sigh*

Need a job. Badly.

What Book Are You?

You're One Hundred Years of Solitude!

by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Lonely and struggling, you've been around for a very long time.
Conflict has filled most of your life and torn apart nearly everyone you know. Yet there
is something majestic and even epic about your presence in the world. You love life all
the more for having seen its decimation. After all, it takes a village.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Oblique

I was riding the trike on the way home, the weariness had settled on my limbs and I just couldn't wait to get home and get some sleep. I chanced upon the cracked mirror and forced myself to look at the face reflected on it. Same haggard face, heavy bag under the eyes, cracked mouth...can't help but remember what Nat said..."masochists. can't help but come back for more. we are sick. we are." i can feel how the words reverberate inside the emptiness.

Professor once commented, with biting scorn, that time is just a state of mind. I may just have to agree. Or maybe it is just that time is moving forward so swiftly and somehow I'm still suspended in this state of timelessness where time stopped since I graduated a year ago.

I've been trying to run around and do something worthwhile since gaining my freedom, a truly paradoxical concept for me. I've decided to follow the Buddhist way since being an agnostic last year.

Need peace.

- - -

I've finally watched Tori Amos' A Sorta Fairy Tale video (and I want to thank Karen, by the way, for giving me a copy of Scarlet's Walk, and the video collection of Tori Amos. NOw i just have to get these of my wishlist, don't I?)

It was weirdly moving. Watching these two appendages trying to survive in a world of humans with complete body parts. Seeing them stumble because of their utter incompleteness. But it was a happy ending for them as they somehow managed to complete themelves. I've yet to find that. Til then it IS still a Sorta Fairy Tale for me.

To watch the vid click here

Lashed

God must be crying really hard. In torrents, actually. I still love this kind of weather, though. Its the beauty and calm of the storms' aftermath that I'm looking forward to. After the storm, where else could we go?

Boxed Out

Moving on has never been an issue for me. Never really had. I’m a pragmatic person and I hate clutter. Surviving, I’ve managed to devise my own system which I religiously follow to avoid feeling of dislocation. Its either I throw it away completely or I just sweep it under the rug, for my future masochistic pleasures. Like Isadora Wing, I believe that there is a man under my bed. The faceless man who was made of 22 years worth of dust, fallen hairs, nail clipping-undisturbed.

And so does the seven years worth of gifts, letters, trinkets, and everything else in between that had passed from Faye's hands to mine. All was kept in the wooden rice wine box with gray ropes for handle, and shoved under the old clothes that had shrunk and supposed to be given to someone else who could put it to good use.

I realized that I should've thrown all of those a couple of years ago, when being strong actually IS false bravado. But now I had to let out the fear. The fear to touch the kept mementos from a lover that had long since flitted away. I fear to lay my hands on reams of letters bound by a single, think rubber. I fear that should the rubber snap, then I would snap too then each letter and characters written in the fancy papers would float and would seep their ways into my pores. I fear that my skin hadn’t toughen up with age, and that layers of skin are actually peeling off me, one day at a time. More easier to penetrate. More susceptible to pain.

I needed the space badly but I’m afraid that if I touch everything that she had left behind, her presence would envelope the four-walled sanctuary that I’d forcefully rid of her memories. If that happens, I would wind up with lesser space than I intended to, which could suffocate me in the process.

So much fear. So much fear. Too little progress.

Ending this on a comical note, I’m alone. Single and alone.

Family

Family I wonder how did jhamie and lea's thesis defence went. I've only read some of the details from jaymee's entry at her LJ account but I did not even text lea and jhamie and jaymee to wish them good luck, i'm such a bad friend indeed. Indeed. But I have good faith in them that they would do good and I know that i am right. It's just that I had some other stuff that I was thinking about, going home yesterday.

I really don't know why i still work for a company whose policies and management i don't even respect and believe in. I know, i know, I did nothing but whine ever since i started this job because i never wanted this job in the first place, I just had to work because i didn't want to go slumming and i just wanted to feel how it was to be financially independent from my folks, how it would feel to buy my whims from my own sweat, and now there would be no turning back. how else would I know that i would good at this job that i never enjoy. When i have to drag myself to go to work every morning, afternoon, night or whatever shift am i in. I know i would never grow to like it, not in time, not ever. not when i feel like the headset that i wear is a chain that drags me into a monotony that i am afraid i would neve break anymore. i puke when i see americans. i almost died while working. i don't even know how are my friends are anymore. i don't know where they are right now, what they do. maybe they have forgotten me, the way they must be thinking that i have forgotten them. the only reason why i was motivated to work everday was because of my team and now the management decided to take our coach and split our teams to be thrown away in some other unknown team. this is what we get for being the top team. this is what i get for being the top agent. to be fair, the team that i was transferred to is okay, as i've known the people there and my new coach when i started working so i already formed some sort of bond with them. but i worry about the other half. who would remind me-an where she leaves her car keys, wallet, and celphone? mimay would never give me the biggest of hugs before the start of every shift again ...mimay, our baby. would they comfort mimay, the way i do when she cries? would they give lieah the same help that we had given her when she had a financial difficulties? i kept thinking of the stuff that we had gone through for almost half a year now.

but then. we are family. and we would always be. this i'm sure of. we are stronger than this. we would make it. this is not the last that they would hear from team Alcatraz. in fact, i could even smell the freshly baked donuts from Gonuts Donuts, the distinct smell of the interiors of me'an 's van, the spicy chicken flavored Yakisoba that we eat during breaks, i could hear Mimay's British accent, Me-an and Coach Mel's cacophony of laughter, Ate Fe's stories of her kids and her liaisons with kuya ver (wink!), cherie's dance steps, ang pag-ibig ni lieah kay aly na laging napupurnada, tin's unrequited love for the RODENt, jah-jah's kababawan, vanessa's loss of signal (hehe!!!), arnold's royal assholeness, judy's love problem. all of this will be missed but not forgotten. and to all people whom we had given codenames: dead skin 1 and 2, mongol, mahal and weng-weng, mr. montana, asphalt, rape, inufiber, inday, popeye, goliath, buteteng laot, 'im, churva and others...you've made our team stronger.

you were the only ones who tolerated my kalantutayan with Ultraman. never forget that.

i love you guys.

Sleeps With Butterflies

SLEEPS WITH BUTTERFLIES

(tori amos)

Airplanes take you away again

Are you flying above where we live?

Then I look up

a glare in my eyes

Are you having regrets about last night?

I'm not

but I like rivers that

Rush in

so then I dove in

Is there trouble ahead

for you the acrobat?

I won't push you

unless you have a net

You say the word

you know I will find you

or if you need some time I don't mind

I don't hold onto the

tail of your kite

I'm not like the girls that you've known

but I believe I'm worth comin' home to

kiss her

waiting by this girl

Only sleeps with butterflies

with butterflies

with butterflies

with butterflies

So go on and fly then boy

Balloons look good from off the ground

I feel you're pins and needles around

we may fall and stumble upon a carousel

It could take us anywhere

You say the word you know

I will find you

or if you need some time

I don't mind

I don't hold onto the

tail of your kite

I'm not like the girls that you've known

but I believe I'm worth comin' home to

kiss her

waiting by this girl, this girl

You say the word you know I will find you

or if you need some time I don't mind

I don't hold onto the

tail of your kite

I'm not like the girls that you've known

but I believe I'm worth comin' home to

kiss herwaiting by this girl

Only sleeps with butterflies

with butterflies

with butterflies

with butterflies

So go on and fly boy

for B

More Whinings

More Whinings This entire page had been blank for the last five minutes. I had been lightly tapping at the keyboard, hating and accentuating the fact that I had no decent thing to write about. This is what happens when you spend so much time staring at a computer, and talking to dimwitted Americans and Indians, making each other’s lives miserable. Words just used to flow out freely from my hand to my fingertips without so much effort and now I am reading my friend’s journal entries for the past months and now I realized why. I had no life. Right now, life is the tiny cubicle in my office that is littered with paper and stained coffee mug and getting as much sleep as I could without being branded as a lady boarder at my own house (sometimes I feel as if my parents are 5 minutes short of asking me to pay my monthly rent). If not for my teammates, and my intermittent movie and lunch dates with friends, and of course seeing Ultraman at the office, I might have gone crazy.

Right now, this is where my life revolves, period. Not much else. Pretty boring, huh? I don’t even have that much time to whine about my current status in life. I’d rather get some sleep or catch up on the old CSI reruns. Whattalife. Whattawaste.