Playlist

I have a weird taste in music. No, i'm not into the screaming-your-lungs-out punk rock music. Rather, i'm very random.

From Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies to Carlos Santana, from Much Ado's Sigh No More to L'arc en ciel's Flower, from Chris Brown's Forever to DBSK's Mirotic, from Gregorian Chants to Utada Hikaru.

I switch genres constantly in the same random way my mind works.

An online friend once asked me what makes a song great. All songs are great. It's just that i listen to the ones that catches my attention at that moment.

When watching dramas or movies, i'm sometimes more interested in the song playing in the background than in the scene itself. e.g. There's a scene in Grey's Anatomy (which i barely remember) where McDreamy reconciles with Merideth. It was supposed to be a sweet scene but all i remember is the song in the background, Fool's Gold by Adrienne Pierce.

Right now, I'm into this Korean band that sound so jazzy, Clazziquai. Dance a.k.a. Hold Your Tears has been playing in my head for a while now.



What catches my attention? Unique blends of instruments, a catchy tune, a good voice. Guitars are what makes me listen to most rock songs, a unique guitar rift. The first 15 seconds are the most crucial for me. A song that makes me stop whatever i'm doing and listen is a must-have for me.

Set Up

Chinky: [while i was applying powder in front of the mirror] Jo, gusto mo iset-up kita ng date?
Me: Ibili mo na lang ako ng aso.
Chinky: [laughing]Huh?! Bakit naman?
Me: Aso na lang or puppy kung ang hanap mo ay unconditional love and undying loyalty.

Puppy Love

He stared at me with adorable puppy eyes, a soulful brown. He was full of curiosity, like a hound sniffing everything. He won my heart the first time he fell asleep in my arms.

His name is Matt. Well, he’s a mutt. A very curious puppy to be exact. Caramel brown with a black beauty mark on his cheek. He came home with Papa a week after I arrived home. I never expected to fall in love with another dog after my own “baby” died a year ago, he was 14. But, I guess, love for the furry creatures is something that’s in my blood (which I share with my maternal lolo).
It’s been so long since I’ve had a puppy. I grew up with puppies all over the place. I never realized how much I missed holding a sleeping puppy in my arms until Matt fell asleep waiting for the rain to stop. It’s a very maternal feeling, the gentle cuddling of something so soft and small. It’s like this small, innocent little creature trusts you with his life as he lays absolutely defenseless in slumber.

Home

Wearing an oversized P.E. shirt (from high school), my brother’s shorts, and my father’s rubber tsinelas which was a few sizes bigger than my feet with chopsticks holding my hair in place, I felt absolutely at ease as I walked down the streets. I had no money in my pocket, no cellphone; I wore no jewelry, no make-up or powder and still I felt wonderful. Ah, there’s no place like home.

Courage...

... is the one thing that I need most right now. As the days go by to the moment I face another monster in my life. I know my faith will waver, leading me to question things that I don't have answers to. Yet the coward that I am, I'm deliberately prolonging the agony, deliberately forgetting, desperately wanting to forget. The clock ticks. The hands keep moving. Trickling down to the day I face one of my worst fears.

The beauty of stress and school is that they keep you from thinking of things other than what needs to be done right at that moment. The endless studying, cramming, and note taking keeps the mind off things that the subconscious ponders. School is a wonderful excuse of forgetting. It has become my escape.

Unfortunately, stuff that I've outrun are catching up to me. School has ended for the meantime.

I have no excuses left. No more pretenses. No more dreaming. I just wish that the pain will be dulled soon. I just wish that I can soon look back and smile fondly at the hazy, dreamlike memories.

Santong Dasal

A message from God:
"No man can ever claim you unless he claims you from me.
I reserved a man for you who has my heart and loves me even more than he will love you.
I won't give you unless he asks you from me.
Soon, you will know him, I have the perfect time.
You're my princess, my daughter.
Let no prince claim you unless he asks you from my hand...
For I am your Father, the King of kings.
You, my princess, are worth loving."

Puzzling

One of my many fascinations are puzzles. I discovered it in college. My LS project/group thesis in college involved puzzles. We made a business out of making and selling puzzles. I fell in love with puzzles. No, not the jigsaw 1000 piece puzzles. The wooden brainteaser types.

As I am in the middle of my study break, I find myself thinking of wooden puzzle boxes. I'm dreaming of a house of puzzles. Puzzle doors and puzzle furnitures. What fun it would be if a guest couldn't find his/her door! Metal puzzles for faucets and light switches, wooden box puzzles for cabinets and knick knacks, assemble/entanglement puzzles for table tops and puzzles for place mats and rugs.

I've always loved solving puzzles. My favorite movies include Da Vinci Code and National Treasure. But more than the knowledge, I love keeping secrets. Puzzles are great secret keepers. I adore the wooden resolute desks in National Treasure 2 and I plan to have one built when I'm able to afford one.

Recently, I have a fascination for Japanese wooden puzzle boxes. Clever and functional. Beautiful artwork and incredible craftmanship.
To see what I mean, check out this site: http://stores.brilliantpuzzles.com/-strse-Wooden-Puzzle-Boxes/searchpath/34343082/start/13/total/81/Categories.bok
Also this one: http://www.cleverwood.com/japanese_artists_price_list.htm
I'm into brass/metal puzzles as well: http://puzzlemuseum.com/month/picm08/2008-01-sun&moon.htm

Hiding Behind My Book

One of my most embarrassing moments of this semester happened a few hours ago.

I was in the throes of panic, to my defense, since i was seriously cramming my way into reading the Revised Penal Code. I forgot where i was supposed to be seated in the room. I was "bullying" (<-- according to Ces, which i absolutely deny) another person into leaving his seat. We had to confirm the arrangements from the proctor. Of course, I insisted that i was seated in that area. To my utter mortification, i read the seat plan wrong! Darned that teacher's table. He was, in fact, where he was supposed to be. I was the one usurping his seat. Grreeeaaatttt... Right, i really needed that extra embarrassment on top of my last minute cramming. Fortunately, he's an acquaintance and the story turned out really funny when Euns was telling it, especially when he was with his blockmates in the next bench in McDonald's.

Ugh, it was still embarrassing, however. This leads me to conclude that i've started several friendships this way. 1.) I fought over a front row seat with Quino in Economics in college and we later became friends; 2.) Sao, our new blockmate, took my seat (it's where i usually seat in class where i'm surrounded by friends) and I had to get it back by coming early and taking my seat back. Well, Sao seems to have forgotten the whole thing and we've become friends since then. So, i guess, I'm going to become friends with him as well. Hmmm, my methods of finding friends really are unique!

Skipping September

It's September = it's hell month.
Impossible but i wish i could just skip september and get to october now... look back from where i am in october, and wish i could return to september to correct all mistakes. impossible but i still wish it so.

But the good thing that September brings are birthdays and Gossip Girl's season 2.
I've just finished watching the first episode and i'm going gaga over Lady Gaga's Paparazzi song. I'm also going all kilig over Chuck and Blair.

Favorite scene:
Blair: [waiting in the front lawn for her date's car]
Chuck: [comes up behind Blair]
Blair: Chuck, aren't you done trying to destroy my night?
Chuck: Look, i should never have abandoned you. I knew i made the wrong decision as soon as your plane took off. Distracted myself all summer and i wouldn't feel it but i still do.
Blair: And?
Chuck: I'm scared... I'm scared that if we spend the whole summer together, just us, that you'll see.
Blair: See what?
Chuck: Me.
Chuck: Please don't leave with him.
Blair: Why? Give me a reason. And, "I'm Chuck Bass" doesn't count.
Chuck: Cause you don't want to.
Blair: [shaking her head] Not good enough.
Chuck: Cause I don't want you to.
Blair: [still shaking her head] It's not enough.
Chuck: What else is there?
Blair: The true reason i should stay right where i am and not get in the car. Three words, eight letters... Say it and i'm yours...
Chuck: I... I...
Blair: [pulls her hands away] Thank you. That's all i need to hear.

The Perfect NBSB Song

I love the lyrics, it's the perfect song for me and my roomies.

what i can remember
is alot like water
trickling down a page
of the most beautiful colors
i can't quite put my
finger down on the moment
that i became like ... this

you see, i'm the bravest girl
you will ever come to meet
and yet i shrink down to nothing
at the thought of someone
really seeing me
i think my heart is wrapped around
and tangled up in winding weeds

but i don't wanna go on living
being so afraid of showing
someone else my.. imperfections
even though my feet are trembling
and every word i say comes stumbling
i will bare it all.. watch me unfold
unfold

these hands that i hold
behind my back are
bound and broken by my own doing
and i can't feel
anything, anymore
i need a touch to remind me
i'm still real..

my soul
it's dying to be free
i can't live the rest of my life
so guarded
it's up to me to choose..
what kind of life i lead.

cause i don't wanna go on living
being so afraid of showing
someone else my.. imperfections
even though my feet are trembling
and every word i say comes stumbling
i will bare it all.. watch me unfold
unfold

i will allow someone to love me
i will allow someone to love me...

love me.. love me...

What Makes Me Sad

Feeling alone in a sea of people. A lost pet. Being left-out by my friends. Dying alone. A missed opportunity. A look of contempt. Dirty bathroom. A hungry stray animal. Wounded looks. Harsh words. Door slamming in my face. Missing her, my yaya and her calling me “Ging”. Death of a loved one. Being sick and not being able to eat chocolates. Waiting for someone who wouldn’t come. Withering flowers. An empty room. Good byes. The sounds of a broken sob. My bestfriend leaving. Failure and disappointment. A touching song. Fighting alone. Rejection. An unkind thought. Meeting a snob. Too much happiness. Losing faith. The story of star-crossed lovers. A blatant lie. Losing a dream. Falling for the wrong reasons. Forgetting.

Last Night’s Girl Talk

One of my roommates is mulling over her status with her boylet. As we sat on the bed in our pajamas, we talked about her boy and our non-existent love-lives. We are obviously strong women and we’ve established that we want stronger men in our lives, the ones who can withstand us and our harshly driven and competitive world. Yet, we seem to attract the opposite kind.

As I look back, I realize that I attract the edgy, clingy, emotionally-tormented, needy ones. Is it because I am strong that I attract the weak (for the lack of a better term)? Typical "opposites attract" theory. It’s an unfortunate fact that what we want and what we have are two different things. What do you do? Do you try to “want” what you “have” or do you set aside what you have in continued search for the one you want?

Bragging Rights

I received a text message from a friend basically telling me that the last of our grades came out and we had to check them online as several of us failed. With great trepidation, we went back to school, beating the library’s closing time by a few minutes in the hopes of online access.

As we waited for the webpage to load, I uttered a last minute prayer that neither I nor one of my friends failed. Euns got hers first, safe! Ces was next, safe! My heart was palpitating louder by the second. Panic doesn’t make me graceful at all as I clumsily logged-in. Euns smacked my lightly as she told me that I had no reason to panic. I didn’t fail. Far from it. We were looking at one of my best grades.

I swore them to secrecy (hopefully, they’d keep it within our group of friends) because I was afraid. I hate bragging. I hate making public any of my accomplishments, a habit that they found strange.

I would have wanted my friends to know but those particular grades were controversial because I wasn’t one of those expected to top it. It would have been fine had everyone else gotten the same grades but some of the best ones barely passed. I don’t know what I’ve done right but I’m not going to question it. It was an unexpected gift. I’m accepting it as it is and passing it on to my parents.

Cloying Sweetness

I watched as she approached the couple sitting on the table beside me. She smelled of floral shampoo, floral lotion, and floral perfume – all sweet and gentle from afar. As she sat several chairs away, her scent floated towards me. Cloyingly sweet. Unbearably overpowering. Heady. I wish she’d go away soon, I thought as I furtively covered my nose.

Sundays and Coffee

It was an adorable afternoon at Starbucks. An elderly man sitting far across me was napping with mouth wide open while his middle-aged companions were quietly reading the papers. He awoke when his daughter (I think) nudged him awake with a question.

A little earlier, I left my jacket on one of the tables, intending to reserve that table. Upon my return from ordering my drink, however, I found a man with a screaming yellow shirt and a very out-of-bed hair style sipping mango juice on my “reserved” table. Very weird man. He placed my jacket on the seat. As I got my jacket and transferred to the table in front of him, I was quietly wishing some very mean things upon him, like indigestion and hair loss.

Unable to open my laptop with its non-existent batteries and nowhere near an electric outlet, I read the papers. The yellow man reached for a newspaper behind me. He was, however, obviously either extremely bored or his mind wasn’t really into reading the Sunday paper because he was staring at a space on his left as I watched him from the corner of my eye.

All around me, people are either leisurely waiting for the hours to pass, fathers lounging around waiting for their family, children running around, worried nannies running after their wards while the mothers chatted, students studying, a few others, like me, typing away.

Such a quaint afternoon. It was, all in all, a relaxing Sunday afternoon as the elderly man slipped back into a light snooze.

The Snotty And The Simple

I was walking down the corridors of Powerplant mall yesterday when I encountered a group of young adults loitering around. I glanced at them, a clique of rich kids. Nothing unusual as Powerplant is the mall of choice of the upper social class. They were all dressed in the same way. All made-up and snottily cracking each other up, wearing fashionable clothing, dirty sneakers, and aviator sunglasses. Very cliché, I thought. Every one of them reminds of a peacock. All puffed-up and pretty, with a pea-sized brain and an Almighty-me attitude.

I went to Market Market shortly after that. Surprisingly, as I was eating my very late brunch at a fast food joint, a group of young adolescents walked in. Females, this time, all model-thin and walking the walk. Brushing past by, they sat down directly in the table beside mine. They then proceeded to chatter away, pretty rouge-tinged lips pouting, legs dangerously exposed by shorter-than-short shorts as they sat crossed-legged. I knew they were, obviously, not as rich as the ones I saw earlier, but the same feeling permeated from them – that of a peacock spreading its colorful tail to outdo others and attract potential mates.

Amazing how snottiness can transcend social class. All deliberately pretty façades yet I don’t remember any of their faces.

Hide Me

I'm like a tightly closed bud of a flower,
hidden layer by layer of wonderful surprises.

I'm beautiful, I'm brilliant, I'm funny and witty, I'm fragile and sweet, I'm vindictive and loyal, I'm sensitive, I'm a complete enigma. And I'm hidden. Hidden from you and everyone else.
Find me... like I found you - unpolished, rough diamond beneath a pile of fool's gold.
Discover me... like I discovered you - slowly and with great enjoyment as i watched you shine.
Cherish the moment you uncover me like a child who eagerly opens his present on christmas morning.

I am hidden so you can find me.
Find me soon for I am buried beneath all pretty baubles and trinkets.
Hopefully, you are not blinded by all the glitter and sparkle for I am plain and dull.
When you find me at last, do not lose sight of me.
I am hard and edgy from the hiding. If you treasure me, polish me with care until at last I shine like a tear from your eye. And I will be yours forever.

Happy after once upon these days

Needing the diversion of a "feel good" movie after weeks of depression bouts, I watched several movies including the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. I find myself once again drawn to the songs. "These Days" by Chantal Kreviazuk (Leaving on a Jet Plane, that Chantal) struck me. It eloquently and beautifully conveyed what i'm feeling. I need my bestfriends. I miss them. I want to say these very lines, "Make me a storybook and write me away from here I need a different now." If that were possible, I'd wish for a different now. And i'm certainly willing to "lend you my tears
if I could borrow your smile."
I remember that we used to be that for each other, shoulders to cry on, staunch defenders, loyal-to-a-fault friends, keepers of our hearts, sisters of choice, bestfriends for life. I miss them and days, long ago, when we were carefree enough to believe in "happily ever after." If i could bottle up those years of blissful youth, i would have drunk myself to oblivion with those. To friendship...

What's this life anyway
What's it to you and me
What's it to anyone
Who are we suppose to be

Make me a storybook
And write me away from here
I need a different now

Where we can
Wear each other
For a while and I'll lend you my tears
If I could borrow your smile
And we'll get through tomorrow
Some other day
Happy after
Once upon these days

There's four roads to anywhere
Four ways to everything
We were unbreakable
We spoke our destiny
Lets take a moment now
Oh and go where we never go
Lets make a new world now

Where we can
Wear each other
For a while and I'll lend you my tears
If I could borrow your smile
And we'll get through tomorrow
Some other day
Happy after
Once upon these days

Then one day we'll find
when we're looking back at this time
Wondering how we've come so far
From this and when we close our eyes

What's this life anyway
What's it to you and me
What are we doing here
And who are we suppose to be

I'll take a better world
Oh I'll take anything
I'll take our a little world now

Where we can
Wear each other
For a while and I'll lend you my tears
If I could borrow your smile
And we'll get through tomorrow
Somehow today
Happy after
Once upon these days
Once upon these days
Once upon these days

Not my Song

A friend asked me to look for this song. I listened to it but it's not me. I, however, would like someone to sing me this song.



On The Side of Me - By: Corrinne May

I'm not the easiest person to love
I'm often the one who lets things go unresolved

Yet you choose to be
On the side of me
On the side of me
Yet you choose to be on the side of me
On the side of me

I'm not too proud of some things
I've done in my life
The skeletons in my closet
Are too big for me to hide

Yet you choose to be
On the side of me
On the side of me
Blessed Charity
You're on the side of me
On the side of me

Everyone needs a friend to hold
When it's cold outside
And there's no place to go
Everyone needs a friend to hold
All alone I cried
There was no place to go
I remember when nobody cared
But you

I'm not the easiest person to love
But you, you've opened your heart to show me what I'm worth

'Cause you choose to be
On the side of me
On the side of me
What a mystery
You're on the side of me
On the side of me

Everyone needs a friend to hold
When it's cold outside
And there's no place to go
Everyone needs a friend to hold
All alone I cried
There was no place to go

I remember when nobody cared
Nobody cared
But you...

Yeah you choose to be
On the side of me
On the side of me

Silently, I Love You

I love you.
I love you really.
I can’t say it but in jest or with great embarrassment. So just like me. Prideful and annoyingly proper.

I silently say it, you know. In my mind, I can hear myself say it.
I love you.You’re not here to hear it.
More than I can say with words, I love you.

But I have a peculiar way of expressing it. I’m sorry. You will probably never hear it from my lips.

I love you. It’s a little too late, but I love you. I really did love you.

It hurts still, the agony of losing you. I lived my life taking for granted that eventually I’d take care of you as you took care of me. We made plans; plans that I would someday hope to fulfill – even without, because we made them. Because I promised.
The wretched grief. When will cease?

Happy Birthday. Rest in peace.

Every Time I Think Of You, I Die A Little

Last night, I was worried. Tita Fil, my yaya, was hospitalized. She was suffering from diarrhea, dehydration, and severe leg cramps. My father, my Tiya'y Tin, and our neighbor Joy Joy went with her. I was frantic when my mom told me this. She said not to worry because she was ok, just low potassium.

5:30 this morning, i woke up to the buzzing ring of my cellphone. My mother was crying on the other line. At first I couldn't understand what she was saying. But her tone, her crying, the panic in her voice told me the one thing i never wanted to hear. "Ta, wala na si Filma. Wala na si Tita mo Fil." Everything else was a blur of sounds and anguished cry. My mind couldn't seem to function. I was in shock. I knew what was happening, I knew i should feel something, do something. But I seem to have lost myself. Lost all kinds of thoughts, lost all kinds of feelings. I couldn't even cry a tear.

I got up, went to the bathroom, drank water from the mug, sat down. There was an awfully empty space. I felt like i was living a nightmare. I knew it was happening but i couldn't seem to wake up. Like i was trapped in another body, the only thing i could do was stare into space.

I did my laundry. I tried thinking of her, tried squeezing out a tear. Nothing. Just numbness all over. I got out my laptop and researched for my thesis. I remembered hearing my mother saying something about me going home to see Tita for the last time. I debated whether it was worth it, not finishing my thesis and going home to attend the wake.

I stared for hours on end at the computer screen until my roommates were up. I was just quietly watching the screen. Not a word, not a glance, nothing. Today was the mass for the repose of Tricia's dad who died on monday. I thought, "I should go to mass. I should also offer a mass for Tita's soul."

So i went to school, telling my roommates on the way there what happened. I went to Garyn's office, then, to Fr. Lito's office to give her Tita's name. I wrote on a small piece of paper: For the repose of the soul of Filma Villan. I went and heard mass.

I ate lunch with friends at the caf. They were jolly and laughing. I couldn't even swallow my food. I could barely move my limbs; i felt so very heavy. I tasted nothing.

When i got back to LSAC, i received a call. My mother was crying again. This time, i cried with her. She told me that Nino went to Tita's room (the room i shared with her) and Tita only kissed him. I told her that I couldn't go home. I can't. I can't see Tita lying there and pretending that she was asleep. I can't bear it. I have never been fond of looking at anyone's remains. I talked to my wawa, i told her the same thing. By that time, i was bawling in the hallway, uncaring who walked by. She told me that all Tita wanted was to see my graduate. She wanted to come to Manila for my grad, to slaughter all the livestock she raised to prepare the dishes for my grad party. She wanted to see me pass the Bar. She wanted to... There was so many things she wanted to do for me and for my brother. Wawa and i cried. Papa talked to me, told me that Tita never expected to die. Her blood sugar was 270. Her lower legs were in paralysis. She couldn't feel her legs. The last thing she said was, "To Periong, habuli man bi tiil ko kay katugnaw gid. Habuli liwat kay natugnawan ko." She never expected to die. She called for a hilot yesterday. Instead of getting better, the blood clots went to her heart. She died 5am today.

I don't want to go home. There won't be welcoming hugs from her, no welcoming kiss, no welcoming dish, no welcoming surprise stuff she'd bought for me. No, I am not going to see her for the last time. I would rather remember her alive and well. My last memory of her will be her wishing me a safe trip back to Manila after a hug.

She was my bestfriend. My first one. My second mother, my playmate. She was my secret-keeper, my secret-giver. She quarreled with me; she made me understand; she taught me my values. She was the mediator when i quarreled with my parents or with wawa. She'd make my pajamas, mend my clothes, make my favorite dishes. She'd encourage me, dissuade me, and persuade me. She'd spoil me and she'd take my side. She left all hopes of having her own family and stayed with us. I will miss her terribly.

There are so many things i've wanted to say to her. Thank you. I miss you. Stay, don't leave me. I'm sorry. Happy Birthday. Happy Mother's Day. I love you.

Tears are running down my cheeks, my running nose is making me breathe through my mouth.
I feel nothing. Just a deep unfathomable void where my heart should have been.

Twix

I've been craving for Twix Caramel Bars since it's been unavailable in the local market. I've looked everywhere and nothing... So i was kind of depressed and in search for a substitute to satisfy my sweet tooth.
When Ces got back for enrollment, she went to school looking for me and Mel. Grinning, she handed me a bar of Twix. "Pasalubong ko sayo," she said.
OH MY GOSH!
My face went all slack and erupted into a great big smile.
THANK YOU!
Moments like these are precious to me.

The Baguio Adventure

April 28-30, 2008
Baguio Trip - Melodie, Patty, Hazel, Ana, Pepe, Joan, Arman, Leah & Meliecar
The Plan was set, the invites were out, the rsvps were in, the accomodations were ready, and the fun awaits. Thanks to Arman we had a very comfortable RV for our transpo. Thanks to Patty, Pepe, and Arman we had skilled alternate drivers for the uber long drive. Thanks to Pepe we had super affordable accommodations at the NFA Staff House.

Day 1:
Lunch at Tokyo Tokyo, PowerPlant by 1pm. Left for Baguio by 1:30pm. The drive was long and exciting. I got the best seat because i'm car sick during long drives. Arrived at 8pm. Late dinner at SM, Baguio. Had chicken sisig shared with Lec. Arrived at the NFA Staff house by 9pm. The van slipped while going up the side of the mountain to our cottage, which made all the girls scream like, well, girls. We immediately got down from the van only to be greeted by pitch black night in the middle of the forest. Made our way to the cottage only to find out that there was a stair pathway on the other side. Pagkatapos ipilit iakyat ang van! Sheesh, we could have parked the van below and trekked up. Scary cottage, scared occupants! Not every one had a good night's sleep. Dawn brought the much awaited sunlight to chase away the bad dreams and the ghosts of the night.

Day 2:
Breakfast at Ganza Restaurant, Burningham Park. Toured the park, sipped on strawberry taho and took pretty pictures. Went to Wright Park, watched the horses (and smelled them, too!), climbed the stairs.
Went up, and up, and finally reached the top. Stopped at The Mansion and took crazy, wacky pictures. Trekked back down to Wright Park.

Lunch at Little John's, Camp John Hay. Made our way to Mines View and Good Shepherd for a pasalubong shopping spree. Rode on towards PMA. Went up the tree house, watched the trainees doing drills and running around, climbed tanks, took funny pictures.

Dinner at Don Henrico's. Went to the grocery for late night snacks and a bottle of Tequila Rose.

Day 3:
8:30am. Breakfast at Jollibee. Went to La Trinidad, Benguet. Tasted Strawberry ice cream, wanted to pick strawberries, bought strawberries and veggies. (Strawberry fields forever)


We climbed our way up (while counting 230 steps to the altar) to the Lourdes Grotto in Benguet. Had lunch @ Dencio's, Camp John Hay after we played in the playground.
Went down from Baguio via Kennon Road. On the way home, we decided to visit Manaoag. We asked intervention from the Lady of Manaoag. I was trully awed by its beauty and sanctity.
With pouring rain, bumper-to-bumper traffic, and impending sunset, we went home to our normal everyday lives. The adventure may have ended but the memories (and the pictures) are beautiful reminders of forged bonds and shared joy.

Singing...

... for the graduates in Meralco Theather was so much fun! Why?

1. The grand piano was beautiful!
2. The acoustics of the place was awesome and so were the equipments (speakers, mic)
3. The seniors/graduating batch were so excited for their last performance in the choir. (boo hoo, they're leaving us. The graduates consisted more than half of the choir)
   
4. I had an excuse to shop for a black dress.
5. I'm singing with my friends.
6. I got appointed as an officer.
7. We have help (vocally) from the younger batch (Thank you so much, i hope you will keep singing with us!).
8. Our trainer/conductor was as strict as he was fun to be with.
9. I have no idea how to put on make up but my friends expertly applied make-up on me.
10. I knew a lot of people graduating and it was fun to cheer for them as they got on stage for their diplomas.
11. No one fell down the stairs.
12. Free dinner! The food was delicious.
    

I Really Was Studying...

... i just did it in Tagaytay.
It's been a fun adventure. Today has been a blast! Spending a day with friends at a new place with a great view was the perfect way to have fun and to study at the same time. We had an awesome ride, a long and eventful trip, witty conversations, quotable quotes, a cool corner for studying, and a great time.
I'm glad i allowed myself to go with the flow, overcome some fears, just sit back and let things fall into place. I am at peace with myself today.

Remnants of First Love

Let him go.

No!

Why not?

Just because.

You don’t love him. Why do you still want to hold on to him?

Because he loves me. He’s always been in love with me.

He’s pined for you for years and you’ve treated him like dirt.

Yes, I’ve been mean to him, scorning his love because he wasn’t cool enough.

He’s found someone who wants him. Set him free. He used to be a music box, all sweet and gentle songs.

Now he’s just a silent, broken piece of wood. I did that, I’ve broken his spirit.

Yes, you did. Being with you has turned him into a ghost of his old self. Why do you hold on so tight to something you’ve never wanted in the first place?

Because she wants him! She wants what’s mine. He’s mine! He’s mine because I am his first love.

That’s childish. You’re holding on to him not because you want him but because you don’t want to lose what’s yours to someone who wants him more than you do.

But it feels nice to be loved and adored. And he’s not complaining.

Yes, being loved and adored is a nice feeling. But the best feeling is when the one you love reciprocates your love. If you care about him even a little, let him go.

It’s not that easy. I’ve been used to having him around.

Habit. It’s just your excuse. A weak one at that. Set him free. You’ll both be better off. Loving you ruined him. Give him up. Let her fix him, your broken music box.

Fear of the Unknown

The spaces in between

The lapses of silence

Sometimes scare me.

I’m not good at subtle

Tell me, talk to me

But I am afraid

Of knowing, of the reality,

Of change, of things yet to come,

Of what I have to hear.

I am such a coward.

I've Just Turned 24!

Birthdays and more

It’s my birthday week! *giddy* BUT it’s also my hellweek.

Why the hell? Because it’s the week for make-up classes, specifically, conflict of laws. We’re having 8 hours of grueling recitations in 3 days. The assurance of having been called for recitation last year did not stop my heart from palpitating during class. Added to that was our other usual subjects to study for.

By Wednesday night, it was exhausted to my marrow. Thursday was March 6, *tada* my birthday! By 12 midnight, my phone was ringing and text messages were pouring in. *giddy with joy* My roommates who were playing computer games with me didn’t even have a clue! Ehehehe When I woke up, messages were still coming in and I was constantly talking to someone on the phone. My roomies finally realized that it was a special day and organized a small house party. Wow! I really don’t have organizational skills whatsoever so I let them. Cut my class, cleaned the house, organized our stuff, washed the laundry, and changed the sheets and covers.

I went to class bombarded with greetings. I don’t like being the center of attention but I secretly adore it. I hate it when the class sings “happy birthday” because I turn so red, but I secretly love that they remember my birthday and are trying to make an effort to care.

I was still buying grocery at Rustan’s when Ces called me asking me where I was.

“I’m at the grocery,” I replied.

“What time will you be back?” I heard the urgency in her voice. Hmm, something was wrong.

“After around 15 minutes,” I said.

“What?! [long pause] Um, you have to go home. We’re, uh, outside your unit waiting for you. We knocked but no one answered. Hurry back, we’ll be waiting outside.” She hung up.

I got home as soon as I can. And viola! They were right outside my unit, dejected and slumped on the couch. It was the funniest sight I’ve seen that day! Apparently, they wanted to surprise me with flowers...

and candy-sprinkled, candle-covered choco marshmallow cake. The candles melted but the big grin on my face remained.

I couldn’t ask for better friends.

Thank you so much. Ana, Ces, Chinky, Chris, Eunice, Hazel, Jo, Leah, Melodie, Patty, and Yoyen. It’s another great birthday with you girls.

The Nota Concert...

... was a definite high.
The 2 weeks of endless and tiring practice was worth it. My throat burned like i've swallowed pure acid but I was soaring with adrenaline rush.
Last Saturday, we held a concert for 3 of the law school orgs - Forte (for the bands, rockers, and musicians), Salsa (for the dancers), and Choir (for the singers) at Blue Leaf, Fort.
From morning until the last possible minute, we were practicing, rehearsing, reaching notes and matching tempos. And then the night began. I wish I had some way to record the whole thing because it was one of my best experiences ever. The noise, the panic, the touch-ups, the curtain calls, the numbers, and the awe and shouts from the audience. Everything seemed like a blur now and pretty soon, i'll forget all about it. But it's been three days, and I still feel the high it gave me. I love it! This is the feeling that I want to keep for awhile longer even when i can't remember everything and everyone that night.

Suddenly I was feeling depressed

It’s been a very heavy week. Everyone has felt so tired. I feel worn out, so sleepy all the time. I never seem to be prepared for class; I space out a lot; I miss out on things; I haven’t had a relaxing day with friends. I’m just so tired all the time.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one. My friends seem to feel it too, this heavy feeling that’s been floating over our heads this week.

I’ve had to cry over the past couple of days just to get it out. It’s probably due to stress. The Nota Concert is a week away and we haven’t polished any of the songs yet. I don’t even know all the songs. The choir has been practicing practically everyday for the past week and it’s eaten up my study and sleep time. We have a new internet connection that has driven us to the point of distraction. I’ve had exams to finish, cases and books to read and thesis outline to defend. The block has been a mess since Patty left. It’s gotten worse over the past month and this week, it’s simply toxic. There are just too many issues, most of which I don’t understand. Sometimes, I don’t understand how other people react and how they think. It’s getting harder to wake up and go to school, knowing that at the end of the day, I’d be dead tired and frustrated.

The Fair

Yesterday was somehow a break in the tiresome routine. Finally, weekend has arrived. Saturday started out with a class, a long lunch with Mel and Ces, choir practice, mass, again choir practice, and finally, the UP Fair. Choir, although a lot of fun, sometimes eats most of my time. Yesterday it ended late, hence, Mel and I met up with the rest of the gang late for the UP Fair.

I rode with Patty and Mel on the way to Diliman and we got “caught” by the mapsa in J.P. Rizal. The police gave out some lame excuse like low headlights. I just wanted to get away from it all. Poor Patty was begging the police not to issue a ticket. I should have known it, they just wanted money. We finally got to UP and parked our cars.

We already bought tickets but the line leading to the entrance was a claustrophobic’s nightmare. *ehem ehem, by the way, I am claustrophobic* I do not like to be in enclosed places and the entrance was the one place I dreaded to be in. We were not only pushed around by the crowd; we also got harassed by the people behind us. *grrr grrr* I have never seen so many goth, emo, ghetto, nerd, and plain weird gathering of teenagers. Thank God for backstage passes. A senior friend of a friend who was the drummer of Sunflower Day Camp got us in. *big thank you* Finally, we got in! *hurray*

We ate shawarma rice and rodicks. After a long chat over dinner, we made our way back to the backstage when we heard the said band begin to play. There a bit of a setback when we were not allowed in but (knowing my friends) we were able to convince the bouncers to let us back in. *phew* We picked a great spot and had fun. And we had a lot of fun!

I miss these “reunions” with my friends. This year, it’s been few and far in between so I’m going to enjoy them as much as I could. Too bad the night had to end. Next time ulit! Happy anniversary to us, girls! Good thing we didn’t get into another accident this year.

Thank God for friends

It's Feb 14, Valentine's Day.
Paaaakkksshhhheeeeeettttt!

It's been a hell of a day. Slept at 3 am due to Evidence case digests; woke up late naturally; hence, grumpy morning *monster me*; made (more like crammed) Legal Forms petitions; printed everything; ran out of ink; took a 5min bath 30 minutes before class; ran, yes, literally sprinted up the hill to school; on the way i met my oh-ever-so-early-never-late professor who i strongly dislike at the moment (it takes a lot to get on my bad side... or maybe not! gut instinct); found out that half of my classmates had a self-declared freecut which increased by chances of getting called for recitation (i have not even opened my damned book and i have no idea what to discuss); had to muddle through class "issues" and getting coffee; a late lunch; froze my ass in the "winter wonderland" auditorium for 2 hours and mostly pinched myself awake; had a good laugh over someone falling off his seat backwards, dragging down the seat beside him as well; early dinner with friends and talked about the "issue"; went over to Starbucks (got my 2nd planner from Cam, the barista) and made the take home exams; dropped by Good Earth (yes, the singles table was quite drunk by then); tried to comfort a crying friend who really just wanted to vent (i'm so sorry i'm not the best person to talk to right now since i'm cranky and borderline apathetic); went home; ranted; and now blogging.
There... that just about sums up my Valentine's day. I'm beat. I'm glad it's over. I'm so looking forward to the weekend. I need a long, restful sleep, a long shower, good food, and a super sweet dessert.

Last Chance

Look back, she thought.

Call out my name, he thought.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound his footsteps. He took one step. One step towards the door. One step farther from her. Two. Three.

It was a game they played. How far can he go without looking back, without missing a step. How far can she let him go without her asking him to say, without her calling his name.

He was at the door, reaching for the handle.

Dammit, stay, she wanted to say.

He sighed. She held her breath.

“I’m leaving,” he said without turning back. The knob clicked as he opened the door.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Tears started to cloud her vision.

“I know. I am, too.”

With that he left. He left her. The room smelled of sun-kissed flowers.

Damn her pride. Damn his weakness. Damn it all, love is bittersweet.

Of Mangas and Mangakas

I miss ranting and raving. I miss being tackless and blunt. I’m exhausted and sleep-deprived, cranky and overly patient. (something so abnormal about me: I really am patient when I’m feeling odd) Blame it on the monthly cycle pains and the not-so-over exams.

I’m obsessed with manga right now, an obsession I share with my college friend Richard. I love reading manga for some time now. Lately, I’ve been reading a lot more and craving (to the point that I spend a whole day in internet shops and bookstores reading manga). I’ve met Onyxangel, an online friend who shares my obsession. Her comments amuse me to no ends and her recommendations are smack perfect. She introduced me to the works of Hino Matsuri, MeruPuri or Marchen Prince. One word: kilig. The characters are interesting, the story is quaint, and the drawings are beautiful. I have to applaud the mangaka, her works are utterly beautiful. I love the way she draws, perfect lines and symmetry, lovely scenery and astig costumes and the characters – beautiful! I’ve always been a fan of guys with lovely eyes and androgynous features. When I saw her male leads, I just had to stop and stare, more like ogle. How I wish they were real!

Another mangaka with beautiful characters is Miyagi Riko, I’ve seen only a few chapters of her work but I’ve stared at it for minutes at a time. I love the way she draws the eyes, conveying emotions with just the eyes. Her script is heart-meltingly sweet as well.

But I guess I still love Nana the most; it wasn’t my first manga but it is my first love. Ai Yazawa is the mangaka. Plus, Nana has been turned into anime, which I found so cute, and 2 movies! *clap clap* The first movie featured one of my favorite Jap actresses, Aoi Miyazaki, the theme song was written by my fave Jap rock artist, Hyde of L’Arc~en~ciel, and had the best parts of the manga in it. I’m digressing! ^_^ I’m such a fan. Back to my point… I love the story! It moved me to tears of joy, triumph, frustration, and helplessness; it had me cringing in embarrassment and kilig; it had me crazy in love with her cute drawings; and it thoroughly converted me to rock and roll goth. The mangaka is a great story teller to the point that I couldn’t stop reading till my eyes hurt.

Hisaya Nakajo with her Hanazakari No Kimitachi E also gave me shivers of utter kilig.

My recent read is Yuuki Ryou’s Shinigami Lovers. I’m a fan of the supernatural and this really does it for me, a mortal girl and a death god. It’s not as well drawn or as heart-wrenching as the other mangas but it’s turning out pretty okei. I'm looking forward to the new chapters and the new characters.