this is why i’m mad

not just towards you, but towards how you let things happen, or how you DID NOT let things happen. i am disappointed because i know you can do better than what you did, yet you chose not to. you SLACKED, and let things fall out the way they did — and i cannot understand why. i am still trying to figure out why you NEVER gave credits for every millisecond that i held on tight. i was the one who first decided to let go, BUT YOU STOPPED ME and what sucks even more is that i let you. i frikkin’ let you stop me. why the hell did you stop me if in the first place, you are never sure of what you felt or of how things might go in the near future. and it sucks to think that i trusted you when you told me this is it, damn it. you never kept your word, you scammer! since the beginning of it, you have always had your shortcomings, and i was the one making up for it. i worked so hard to make the relationship click, but you screwed it all up just because you woke up one day and you decided to have a stupid change of heart. people change hearts, fine, and i know you are not obliged to reciprocate what i have exerted. but you have entered into a commitment and so you are supposed to do your thing just like how i have been doing mine. well, apparently, “your thing” is not about making the relationship grow. “your thing” is about staying as long as you’re happy, and immediately hopping to another one, after you find out that the other one will make you happier, you LEECH. congratulations with doing your part of the relationship. it’s pretty obvious that you succeeded.

i am the most stupid person in the world for even wholeheartedly understanding you. i should’ve trusted my instincts when i first thought of jumping out of the relationship since my impression is that it’s not gonna work. i should’ve trusted my brain and not your brain because what turned out is that your brain does not work well, and so it comes up with stupid ideas, say, we’ll make it. those stupid ideas make stupid people believe it, and unfortunately, i happen to be stupid that’s why you caught me. nice catch, dude!

so how were her hands? better than mine, maybe. when you held them, did you even think about how i would feel? of course you did not because you are a numb moron. moron enough to flirt with a girl YOU DO NOT EVEN LIKE and make me find out about it. and imbecile enough to think that i believed you when you said you do not even like her. what am i, a kid? tell you what, you are a kid. go formulate some strategies of playing or flirting with long-legged bitches in heels, and make sure that your formulae will include techniques on how your girlfriend will not find out about the bigtime flirting. you think you can play, but hey, you suck with playing. go get a tutor.

goodness, i cannot believe i even asked you to stay after everything. thank holy shrek, i found my long lost ego. now, i’ll continue with the road of my own and make sure that i’ll get myself to the top, while you can continue dating flirty no-brainers who cannot even strike up a healthy conversation. good luck.

Just Another “Could Have Been”

Our love story started out very wrong. Everything was wrong — the setting, the timing, the people involved, the anticipated outcome, the situation — it was a jungle of wrongness. And yet, we went in, holding nothing but each other’s hands. Frail, but we thought that was enough.

However, the other side of the story convinced us that maybe, it’s not really wrong. maybe it has just been tagged “wrong” because majority of the people do not agree with it, or because it’s against the norms of the society. But yeah, we didn’t care about the people, nor about the norms of the society. Who dictates the right things, anyway? And so we went on. We were never afraid to go on.

Now this is how we were.

The moment we open each other’s eyes from whether a nap or a deep sleep, there is a confusion of whether we’ll go back to sleep and continue our dreams of each other, or we’ll wake up and embrace the sweetest reality of having each other. Choosing the former ends us up wanting each other even more. Picking up the latter ends us up with the same thing. We’re stuck. We both love being stuck with each other like that. And we could have been stuck with each other like that forever.

We were friends. We give each other bits of advice. I tell him he’s stupid if he was. he’ll tell me I’m an idiot if I was. When I fail, he cheers me up. I do the same thing with him. We play games, like Text Twist (I’m better) or Blocks (He’s a genius here) in his iPod. We draw. We make faces. We laugh like there’s no tomorrow. We read paragraphs aloud and mark each other down for every wrong enunciation. We race to the top of the MRT stairs, and when we do that, I always win because he always lets me. At the same time, we were lovers. Our love for eacch other was is something no man could ever doubt. We were deeply in love — so deep, Bonnie and Clyde would be jealous. We were both friends and lovers. And we could have been friends and lovers forever.

He’s my angel. He wakes me up every night to make sure I won’t be late for work. He calls me up every 1AM to make sure I had or I’m having my lunch. He texts me every morning to check if I got home safe and sound. Likewise, I am his angel. I nag almost everyday to force him to finish his homework before he falls asleep. I investigate daily to find out if he had a rice meal for lunch. I conduct role-playing sessions with him to prepare him for his upcoming job interviews. We were each others angels. And we could have been each others angels forever.

But the trigger has been pulled, and one night, we came up with a mutual decision that maybe we should just set our love aside and just focus on each other’s lives — SEPARATELY. It’s tough. But we were in a jungle of uncertainty, right? We can either find each other’s way out and be able to make it out bruised, or we can stay inside and die. I remember he once told me, “Sometimes, you don’t need to have a brain. You just need to have the heart for it.” Well, maybe that’s the reason why even though we’re both smart enough, still, we were unable to come up with a third option — and that is to stay inside the jungle and try our best to survive together.

So that’s the end of our love story. I waved goodbye. And though he has all the powers in the world to stop me from leaving, he never did.

I could have not waved goodbye.

He could have stopped me from leaving.

Then maybe we could have been together still.

But then again, this is just another “could have been”.

What’s Up?

I am in the lobby of our office, trying to kill time. Of course the company has enough money to provide free internet access to employees, and so I decided to be a slacker and do a big time slacking in front of one of the company’s PC’s. The first thing I did was try to access Friendster, of course, and I was right, it’s blocked. Nice try, though. So I tried to get to the number 2 website on my list, Peyupi.com. Same thing, BLOCKED. Where else can I go? Yahoomail? A little boring, but yeah that’s where I went. I found an email notification from WordPress telling me that Ax left me a comment. That’s the only time I realized that I have a WordPress account, and of course, it’s almost a dead blog. ROFL.

 

I haven’t been able to login for quite sometime now, and the “short while of being gone” that I mentioned in my last post has now become a “very long while of almost-absence”. So what’s really up with Jill?

 

1. I am working. Want the full details? Naah you guys gotta search for it. Haha! But I’m earning 5 digits a month. That’s as far as I can go anyway. LOL.

2. My sister Joyce already gave birth to her baby boy! I’ll be posting pictures after another “short while” because the pictures are in my laptop, and I don’t have my laptop at this moment.

3. I was unable to attend the blog summit ‘09 (should it be capitalized? idk sorry) last May 9. Allen reserved a seat for me and I wasted the moment, shoot it! Am I too busy? Err talk about REGRET!

4. I changed my theme. See? It’s gray now! Weee. Well I don’t know how to customize my page because I’m an html semi-idiot, so I’m using WordPress-designed themes. Thanks, WP. Haha!

5. I will be enrolling this month, so it’s back to school. And just for the record, I will be continuing my work. So it’s a school-work (or the other way around) routine again. More WordPress absence, you bet!

There you go. Five bullets for what’s up with me. I’m never gonna leave my WP, but it will be hibernating for now. So…. see you around?

Coffee, Please!

Have you ever experienced something like when you burp, what comes out smells like coffee? Well that’s actually what I’m going through right now. There’s no sleep, and there are bottomless coffee mugs plus the coffeeshop aroma in the sala, which signals only one thing — FINALS WEEK. Haha! Well, I usually enjoy cramming, but not that part where I’m actually looking like cramming already. I sort of “like” cramming because it gives me the idea that every tic of the clock is life, and every minute is consumed wisely. I last felt it when I once worked as a call center agent while studying at the same time. Hitting two birds in one shot, don’t you think? Anyway, during that time I was literally sleeping during my fifteen minute coffee break. Imagine that? POWER NAP, ahhbsolutely! Afterwhich, I’m gonna get back to work and start taking calls for another three hours and forty five minutes. Stressful, indeed! And then after the whole shift, I’m gonna go straight home, eat breakfast (Or dinner? Call center people got their body clocks confused.), take a nice bath, get dressed, then go to…..tadaa! SCHOOL. See that’s why I look like I don’t have any more blood left in my system. Anyway, where am I? Oh yeah the finals thing. Or the cramming thing? Whichever. The main point is, I am currently busy, and I might leave my site un-updated for a short while. Short while? Now that’s very un-specific, huh? haha! So to the people who visit my blog, are there even any? Ehl-oww-ehl. Yeah chill with me on my next posts which are gonna come up after a “short while”. Thanks! Wee ooh wee ooh wee. =)

Iloilo Cuisine. HELP!

I JUST WANNA COOK! I’m not an Ilongga. I’ve never been there, actually (But I’m gonna be there real soon, baby). And too bad, it’s just the La Paz Batchoy I’ve tasted, nothing more.

Okay. I am desperate, to the point that I even came up with a post about this. I was supposed to do a lesson plan for my demo teaching this week. Apparently, I ended up browsing the net for Ilonggo recipes. And yep, today’s not my lucky day. Tomorrow doesn’t seem like it either. I can’t find any! It’s either I’m a bad net-surfer, or there just aren’t any. So with this, I think I’m gonna need the help of you guys. How I wish people are actually reading my posts. LOL. Haha!

So who knows how to cook Ilonggo Cuisine? Puhleeease teach me how. And in return, I’m gonna.. ahmm.. let you taste my cooking! How does that sound? Fair enough, I guess. =)

(update: i just found a VERY USEFUL site. http://flavoursofiloilo.blogspot.com <– check it!)

Who Said There Ain’t No Dress Code???

I once wore this to the Libe. I kept scratching my legs afterwards.

I’ve been there probably the same number of times I’ve been to Megamall, and if you’re planning to chillax and free your minds off stress, then you might wanna check this post out first. Oops, I’m talking about no other place than our very own National Library. Yep. The one standing proud in Kalaw, beside the National Historical Institute.

1. First time? Bring a 1×1 picture and money not less than 60 pesos. What for? Before you can delight yourself with the books, you have to sign up for a library card first. Membership fee is about forty pesos during my time (as if I’m too old), but bring something less than a hundred to make it safe. I guess the cliche “Prices may change without prior notice.” applies here. The card needs your face, thus, the 1×1 picture. You will be using that library card for the rest of your life that’s why if I were you, I’ll make sure that I put my best photo on it. Don’t worry about the glue. They have lots. I guess it comes with the membership fee.

2. Don’t use the elevator. It is older than my great great great grandparent, so basically, it doesn’t follow commands. If you get inside and press the button saying “4″, the lift will take you to all floors except the fourth. Unable to comprehend, I pressume. So just use the stairs, get to your floor for sure, and get lean legs. Win-win.

3. All bags should be surrendered to the counter. Just get these from your bag before you say bye-bye to it: paper, pen, money, cellphone, fan, face towel or hanky but I suggest face towel, school I.D., school registrtion card, your ever precious library card, and electric fan, if you have any. And take care of your number card. It’s worth your bag.

4. Be techie. Or pretend to be one until you become one. Only the PUP library uses card catalogs, oww-ehm-gee. In the National Libe, people use OPAC. Not familiar with it? Go ask Google, or kill yourself.

5. If you’re there for a thesis, you hafta know that the NL people don’t photocopy theses aside from their abstracts. So if you want to have a copy of a thesis you want to replicate, good luck to you. My suggestion? Bring pen and paper — lots of both, actually.

6. Good news, though. Books can be photocopied from cover to cover. But here’s the catch. Xerox fee costs a peso per page. So after reading your photocopied book pages, go to Cebuana Lhuillier. Maybe they’ll be able to figure something out.

7. There’s a canteen on the 6th. Again, use the stairs. The food, surprisingly, is not costly. It tastes relatively fair, too. But hey, don’t eat or drink too much. Why? Check out number 8.

8. The only available rest rooms are the ones on the ground floor. The ladies’ room has always been clean. You don’t expect me to check the men’s, do you?

9. Don’t wear short pants or mini skirts unless you wanna go home carrying dengue. Aside from the readers and the personnel, there are flying invertebrates hanging around, too. Maybe Off Lotion can make a difference, though.

10. Sure you’ll look terrible after a long day of research. Don’t worry. There’s this one best thing I love about the Libe — the mirrors inside and outside the ladies’ room! Makes me think that the NL people have concerns about the looks of narcisstic readers like me, huh?

My bestfriend and I at the NL washroom, after a loooooong day of research.

There you go. Ten bullets that sum up what I wanna share about what had been my second home. After unstressing and stressing yourself out, it’s nice to hang out and get some fresh air at Luneta, just at the back of the building. Oftentimes, that’s what my bestfriend and I do. And then we will walk all the way to Robinson’s Place Ermita to grab a snack. Usually, a Choco Chill Quickly and some pizza. Try it!

Rihanna’s Photo After She Was “HIT”

I got this from a friend, who, apparently, got this from his friend. And I wouldn’t be surprised if that friend of my friend also got this from a friend of a friend of his friend. Well, it’s not important where I got this. The bottomline is that Rihanna is badly beaten up. Look at the picture. I didn’t disregard the possibility of Adobe art, but hey, you’ve got your own eyes and minds and rationality to judge by yourselves. I just posted the image, you do the rest.

** I don’t know the whole story about it and so I didn’t mention anything, though I have read A LOT about the issue. All I wanna say is that she was “HIT”, and I WOULDN’T even say who allegedly did it.

You, Her, and Me

You’re a wonder.

And since we met, I was never able to take myself away from you. I’m still wondering if you’re true, and I still have desires of wanting to pinch you, or prick you, see if it bleeds, and then confirm that you’re real. Yet I know you’re real. Much more like a dream — that eventually came true. I confess of secretly sniffing you one night, when you’re not looking, when you’re off-guard, and when I found ownership of you for just about that split second. You’re coated of Bulgari, and the scent never got out of my nostrils since then. And up to now I still have it, it wouldn’t go away, but a refill sounds much like a good idea.

She’s a winner.

And yes, she won you. She’s such the luckiest, having been able to hug you when you’re cold, or cook you breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Or kiss your toothaches goodbye. Or pray with you before you go to sleep. Or wake up every morning with the sound of the alarm clock, that will be turned off afterwards because of the choice to stay asleep with you, with her arms wrapped around yours, or your arms wrapped around hers, or both. She’s the most fortunate, for she stays with you all day, and yes all night, and all dawn, and all dusk — all the time. Sure she’s having the best meals, with you on the other side of the dinner table. She gets to share with you the sweetness of that dessert that she could have possibly made. She’s the only one who sees you first thing when you wake up in the morning, and last thing before you go to sleep. She hears your voice, your raps, your murmurs. She sees you dance, and krump, and giggle. She listens to your laughters, to your cries. She sees you turn red when you’re in fury, and when she smiles, you probably get better. When she cries, you probably pamper her. When she gets babyish, you probably cuddle her up. No doubt, she’s holding the aces.

I’m a writer.

And my words show what you are to me. I appreciate you, she doesn’t. And for that, I hold the power.

Twelve Hours and After

For the next twelve hours..
you will be with me, and I will be with you,
and we will worry about nothing but the cold night,
which eventually will be not so cold after all,
for I will be warmed by your embrace, and together,
we will rock ourselves to sleep.
The blues are freezing, yet we will stand in the middle,
unmindful of the chills.
You will hold me and would not let go,
and we will watch the water steam.

For the next twelve hours..
I will lock myself with you,
and we will do nothing but savor the moments,
and make sure that each scene was captured,
so that I can go back to them from time to time,
and from time to time means more often than always.
And though forbidden, I will be with you –
as much as you want me, as much as I want you.
As much as they’re hating,
and as long as we don’t care.

For the next twelve hours..
you will clench your limbs with mine,
and we will dance ’til we’re sober,
we will tango though we can’t,
we will sing ’til sunrise,
we will look at the evening sky,
we will close our eyes and whisper,
“We will never fall apart.”,
we will have our lips entwined,
our hands gently grappled,
our hearts joined together,
our minds merged as one.

The extreme will happen in the next twelve hours,
for after that, when the sun starts shining,
we will be back to reality.
You with her.
Me alone.
Us together.

A List of What Never Failed to Annoy Me

Haha! It’s been so long since I last updated my blog, and my friend, Allen, has already been nagging big time, so here I am, back with a new post. Not cheesy. Not oh-so-serious. Just a list of the things that never failed to annoy the hell out of me. And I bet they annoyed you, too.

1. Bedbugs

After a very long, tiring day, all that we’re ever gonna look up to is a nice bed to lie down in. The night is quiet, stars are shining goodnight, and our backs are placed comfortably on the matt. Then suddenly, we’re bitten. And presto! Goodbye, sleeping mood.

2. Heavy Traffic In a Hot Noon While I’m Having My Period.

Heavy traffic is tolerable, specially now that we’ve almost gotten ourselves used to it. Being stuck in heavy traffic has become more of an everyday ritual to us — but when it is in a hot noon while I’m having hot flushes coming out of me, not to mention the headache and lower back pain that perfectly go with it, that’s just about one of the most unfortunate scenarios that every woman has to go through.

3. Bad Haircut

Bad hairday occurs by nature, and so we have no one else to blame but nature — and we can’t fight nature, so more or less, we pretty much have to deal with it. Bad haircut, on the other hand, does not happen by nature. And as often as all the time, there is an idiot hairstylist that should take the blame for it. What’s even more annoying is the fact that the people to blame are the ones whom you thought are there to “make you over”. I mean, it hurts. You walk in a salon with people claiming to be the best hairstylists, and then the “idiot you” trusts them. You then tell them that this is the hairstyle that you want yada yada yada. They’ll say alright they can do it, and afterwards proceed with the traumatic cutting and shaping. And when they’re done, you’re totally new — with a new hairstyle that’s totally not supposed to be like that.

4. Boring Professors

You went to class wanting to learn. And then you end up wanting to sleep, or wanting to go home, or wanting to daydream — aside from wanting to kill the eyeglassed creature speaking like an expert in front of you. Heck, you wouldn’t be surprised that more than half of your classmates are wanting the same thing.

5. Slow Internet Connection

Exactly. Especially if you’re bloghopping, or chatting with your ultimate crush, or sneaking to a Friendster profile of the other woman of your man. Here in the Philipppines, we pay monthly for unlimited internet connection. But if the connection is as slow as snail (I’m bad with simile.), then better think again if you’re paying wisely.

6. Tagalized Foreign Songs

I just don’t get it. Why do we have to tagalize RnB songs when we can always compose new ones? What happened to the composition prowess of Pinoys? Well maybe it went away with all these taxes that seemed to have vanished in just a snap. I’m not surprised. But i still hate (Yes. HATE.) it when I hear the tagalized version of my number one crush, Chris Brown’s “With You”. Grr. They murdered my Chris’s song. Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against OPM. Dice and K9’s Eargasmic is on my playlist, FYI.

Well, that’s it for now. I’ll update this list some other time. It’s almost 2am and I gotta get going. I’ll have this post published because I never save posts on my draft and so I make sure that I publish posts the day I make them. See you guys next time for the continuation of the list!

Because of a Mouse’s Squeal

Our family has a history of easily freaking out because of, well, for lack of a better term, pests. Okay, there’s a better term — “unwanted house members”, but I don’t think that it’s actually a suitable term, so let’s just use “pests”. Well, this “freaking out” history is probably the number one reason why I super duper seldom see cockroaches and mice in the house. Cockroaches are pretty easy to kill, that is, if you’re not me. Because if you’re me, just the sight of the cockroach’s whiskers (whiskers???) is enough to make you lock yourself inside a cramped room for hours. And if you’re me, you wouldn’t get out of the room unless you see the corpse of the roach. Bottomline: I’m scared of roaches, even though they’re pretty easy to kill. As for mice, there’s an even longer story.

And this is what this post is about. One night, while the house is all quiet, and the family is all-eyes on the tv screen watching Twilight on dvd (Okay, it’s pirated. You caught me.), we heard a naughty squeal. And of course, the squeal didn’t seem to have come from the vocal chords of a human being. Yep! You got it! It’s from a mouse. Apparently, there’s a little mouse (Little? Of course. Otherwise it would have been a rat.) playing in the kitchen area, and of course, we all freaked out. So we chased the mouse, and for a few minutes, we ignored Edward. After a few rounds of chasing here and there, we figured out that maybe we should stop chasing. For what else can we do? We can’t even touch the mouse. We’re chasing it for nothing. And so we fixed our eyes back to the Cullens, and after the movie, we thought of an even better solution.

Two days after, my sister brought home a fly paper.

I was like, “A fly paper??!”. Yeah. A fly paper strong enough to put down a mouse. Don’t underestimate the flypaper. It’s from Baygon. So Baygon doesn’t just kill flies. It kills mice, too. Amazing. =] Anyway, so what we did is we opened the fly paper, turned it to the adhesive side, and then we placed it somewhere in the kitchen. My sister even sprinkled some rice morsels in the adhesive. I asked her, “What are those for?” and she said “These are to attract the mouse.” wow. Must be one hell of a smart kiddo.

After a day, my sister’s “Rice-Morsel-On-Flypaper Theory” was proven right. There was the mouse. Lying helpless on the flypaper. From time to time, the mouse makes slight maneuvers, probably wishing to break away from the yellow paper he’s trapped into. He kept on squealing, this time, not a naughty squeal anymore. He let out helpless squeals that seemed to me cries of help. And then I was thinking, probably, the mouse was just trying to get to the rice morsels, but then he got trapped. He never knew there was a trap. We deceived the mouse.

I wasn’t trying to present the emotional side of my mouse story here. It’s just that I was am frustrated. I mean, I was just there, watching the mouse squeal to death, not able to break away at all. And if I cut him loose, I’d take the risk of having an “unwanted member” in the house. Something like that just makes me feel bad. I mean, does the mouse even know why we killed him? Does he even know that he’s a pest? or should mice really be considered pests?

In the end, there are two crimes that I can’t get away from — one, that we violated the purpose of a flypaper; and two, that we killed a mouse just beacuse of doing that first crime.

An Open Letter to RWT

This is not a love letter, for love is yet uncertain. You may not mean love to me, but you’re the closest one that I got, and so this is for you.

You are a dream, and sometimes, I wish to never be awake and just dream. I see the best visions of you when I’m in my subconscious, for what’s impossible becomes possible, what’s unrealistic becomes realistic, what’s vague becomes solid, what’s blurry becomes unmistakable. You make the difference.

You’re not my everything, but everything is forgotten when I’m with you. And I am with you all the time – my thoughts, my emotions, my weakness and strength. Your scent echoes and my heart drums with it, and eventually I found myself running out of torment. I am all safe and calm.

This is going to be momentary, they say. I hear them, but I refuse to listen. I am adamant by nature, and I settled myself upon that portrayal. I chose to pose for the portrait of the role I put myself in.

I am aware of the fact that you’re not mine. I am not yours either, yet I act as if I am because it feels better. There’s never a thing like us. There’s just you, and I. Us is just an illusion. We is an apparition. But you and I is close to reality, and sometimes, reality is all I have to hold on to — because sometimes, I am awake.

I am not as beautiful as them. I don’t shine. I choose to hide. I don’t flaunt often. While they are diamonds, and the worst you got is white gold. I am inferior. They’ve got everything laid before you, while I am here, with nothing but vehement hopes that maybe if I write you prose, you’ll give me a glance in return

This is prosaic. I write what you won’t read, and then that’s it. Yet I am enthralled. The moments of you and I together pacifies my longing, for I know that everything is evanescent, and that “Nothing stays forever” is more than just a cliche. I long for you, and my ink will express my longing. My hopes will linger, and as long as you’re not telling me to stop, I’ll keep on writing.

This is not a love letter, for love is yet uncertain. You may not mean love to me, but you’re the closest one that I got, and so this is for you.

Walking Tour With Allen Yuarata =]

Okay. So this is an un-famous version of the very famous Walking Tour With Carlos Celdran. Haha! Allen is a fan of Carlos, and thanks to him for being my tour guide for this day. So this is how it all started. Allen and I were at Jollibee (together with some friends from the Peyupi family), when after eating, I just thought of going somewhere with him (somewhere safe, mind you.). So I blurted out, “Hey Allen, let’s go to Intramuros!”. He thought it was a great idea, and so we gave it a shot.

While almost on our way, he suggested that we go to Paco Park after the Intramuros tour. Just for the record, I am known to be indecisive and my mind changes a lot. To my surprise, Allen is of the same kind. Haha! So what we did was totally different from the “Intramuros-then-Paco-Park” plan. We headed straight to my house to get spare batteries for his digital camera. This was the first time Allen saw our place, and yeah, he liked the view from the rooftop and even took pictures while he was there.

After taking six shots and getting the spare batteries, we headed straight to Paco Park. It’s two jeepney rides away from our house.

Allen seems to know every little detail about Paco Park. I bet he’d been there for the nth time. Haha! He was touring me around like he built the place himself, and he was discussing some facts about Rizal, and all that stuff, like he had a masters degree in history. ROFL.

Me at Paco Park. Taken by Allen.

Second stop: Intramuros, the very reason why Allen and I went out. The gates of Fort Santiago closes at 6pm. Because Allen was so slow (Haha. It’s my blog, Allen), it was about 5pm when we reached the entrance of Intramuros, so we decided not to mind paying a 40-peso pedicab ride to reach Fort Santiago before 6. Upon arriving at Fort, we immediately bought tickets (@ 50 pesos each), and decided not to waste any more time. Shame on me, but the last time I went to Fort Santiago was when I was in my grade school fieldtrip. It’s just now that I decided to be historically adventurous, and finally, I found a partner in Allen.

After the Intramuros tour, we thought we hadn’t had enough yet. Our feet were craving for more, and so were our tummies. We looked for a place to eat and along the way,  saw a series of fast food chains we have gotten used to since childhood – Jollibee, McDonalds, Chowking, Max’s, et cetera. But hey, that day was an adventure, so food should also be “something unknown to our intestines”. Tadaaa! Chinese food is the answer.

Next stop: Ongpin. Yes. That place in Manila where almost half the population is made up of chinky-eyed people. What’s even more exciting is that from Intramuros, we literally walked our hearts to Ongpin. Heck, we don’t even know how to get there by foot, though Allen knows that it comes right after a bridge somewhere. And so we found our ways to Ongpin, and after almost two hours of walking here and there, and after rejecting so many restaurants that didn’t look very inviting, we finally found a place to eat – a restaurant with a purple-and-green motif plus a very highly-technological automatic sliding door! Haha! We ordered a beef wanton noodle soup – the best I have tasted in my entire life.

After filling our tummies with the best wanton noodle soup matched with asado ubepao (asado flavored siopao with ube mantao bread), we prepared ourselves for another set of walkathon – from Ongpin to Quiapo. It was another 30-minute walk (I guess) before we reached Quiapo, and from there, we took an immediate rest inside the jeepney on our way back home. And of course, everything ends with a blog post.

GUSTO KO NG TAGALOG NA POST EH, BAKIT BA?

1:39 am na pero gising parin ako. nakakaloka. eh tutal naman nakabukas ang laptop at may internet, bakit hindi nalang ako magpaantok diba? so as usual, refresh ako ng refresh ng friendster page ko kasi feeling ko may magcocomment pero wala naman kasi nga pala madaling araw na. tapos basa ako nang basa ng mga entry sa blog ni prose at allen anak ng pating kabisado ko na nga ata. naisip ko lang, pwede naman ako gumawa ng blog post diba? oo nga. tsaka napansin ko wala akong tagalog na blog post. ano ko, maarte? haha. so eto gagawa ako. tagalog at semi-walang kwenta. semi lang naman. wala pa kong maikwento eh. teka cr muna ako.

ayan nakabalik na ko. at may ishe-share narin ako. share ko lang yung mga taong tanga. haha. pasensya na pero dude, walang better term sa tanga. haha. mabilis kasi ako mabwisit sa mga engot e.hindi naman sa sinasabi ko na matalino ako. minsan tanga rin ako at naaasar ako sa sarili ko pag ganun. pero syempre bias ako kaya mas naiinis ako sa ibang tao pag tanga sila. haha. so ayun na nga, eto yung fair share ko ng mga moment ko with stupid people.

1. common scenario to. malamang napapansin nyo rin. oh malamang ganito rin kayo minsan. ahaha. nakakabwisit to, trust me. umaandar yung jeep. tapos habang nasa gitna ng kalsada, papara si manang. “para, mama!”. syempre narinig ni manong yun. eh kaso alanganin, itatabi muna ni manong yung jeep. eh medyo mahirap kasi nga alanganin, so umaandar parin nang konti. si manang sisigaw ulit “mama para! para!” tapos may halo pang katok sa kisame ng jeep para super combo finish. so si manong medyo panic-striken na. ipipilit ngayon ni manong na itabi yung jeep agad. pagkahinto ng jeep, si manang may rebuttals pa, “kanina pa ko para ng para jusko ang layo layo na!” oha. nakakaasar diba? parang ang engot ni manang. alam naman nyang nasa gitna yung jeep eh tapos gusto nya instant stopping galore. ano yun “ella enchanted”? biglang humihinto? ganun gusto nya? tapos inaway pa si manong eh jusko sya kaya mag drive. hirap hirap mag drive eh lalo pag may pasahero kang naku ubod ng talino.

2. eto naman ibang strategy ng pagpara. si ateng mahinhin naman ang bida. umaandar ang jeep. eh nasa destination na ni ateng mahinhin. so papara ngayon si ate. “para po”. pabulong. syempre hindi narinig ni manong unless bionic ears si manong. uulitin ni ate. “para po”. hindi parin maririnig ni manong. uulitin ulit ni ate. uulitin nya ng uulitin for the nth time. ulit sya ng ulit pero di nagbabago yung boses nya. bulong sya ng bulong ng “para”. my gawd! ang tanga diba? ineexpect nya bang biglang lalakas yung earsight (earsight amp. imbento ah.) ni manong?? eh kung nilalakasan kaya nya yung boses nya. hello, ateng mahinhin!? you’re supposed to be heard! unless naka mic ka diba?

3. oh tama na sa mga “para” moments. sa bayad moments naman tayo. haha. syempre pagsakay sa jeep, magbabayad tayo. unless trip natin mag 1 2 3 diba? eh kaso, nasa bandang far end tayo. so yung bayad natin, ipapaabot natin sa kung sino yung malapit kay manong. eh ang kaso, yung taong insensitive na nasa tabi natin, ayaw mag-abot. hindi natin alam kung bakit ayaw nyang iabot yung bayad natin pero may mga hypotheses tayo. una, baka di nya naririnig. so lalakasan natin. waepek. ahhhhhh. baka tulog. sinilip natin. gising naman. aaaaaah. baka nakaearphone. sinilip ulit natin. walang earphone! eh bakit ayaw iabot yung bayad natin? nag “please” naman tayo. kinalabit naman natin sya at na-feel naman nya yun. muka naman syang conscious. humihinga naman. at hindi naman sya mukhang nag memeditate. pero ayaw nyang iabot. ahhhhh. siguro tanga sya. my gulay. hindi ba nya alam na sa pagsakay ng jeep, may mga unwritten rules (uy masarap iblog to ah. later =p), at kasama dito ay ang rule na kapag malapit ka sa driver, automatic na mag-aabot ka ng bayad ng mga nasa far end. unless eh si lastikman sila at maiaabot nila yung bayad kahit malayo sila. ngayon, kung ayaw mo mag-abot ng bayad, sumabit ka! ewan ko nalang kung may makaistorbo pa sayo sa pagpapaabot ng bayad ah. unless nasa labas si manong driver. gudlak naman.

so ayun. marami pa yan actually. kaso inaantok na ko. baka ma-late ako kay mam junie bukas, mabengga pa ko. hahaha. effective ah inantok ako. may typo ba? pakicheck nalang. basta type lang ako ng type eh. tuldok system pa naman ako mag type. hahaha. naks may tagalog blog na ko! yabang.

Help Me. I’m Pregnant.

Admit it. The title caught your attention. Those are the exact words that woke me up one October morning – the exact date of which I intentionally forgot. I am not a morning person and I often wake up after everyone had lunch. But everything changed that morning. 6 AM and my eyes are open at their widest.

The words came from my fifteen-year old sister – the youngest in the family. Apparently she took a self-test and got two horrifying red lines. Two thick red lines with no signs of error. Two thick red lines of which I saw with my own eyes. With her wake-up words, I instantly bolted up.With my heart at its fastest pace, I just sat up. I just looked at her without the slightest blink of an eye. There she was, sitting in the same bed. She was right in front of me, shivering with fear and tremble. I recognized a pool of tears at the corners of her eye. The tears could have dropped hadn’t I joked, “Hala kaaaaaaaa.”. To joke about anything at that particular time is stupid, but I thought that it was the least that I could do – to show her and make her feel that we can both laugh it all off.

Mom died when I was nine, Joyce was four. She can’t even do the four fundamentals of math yet when mom left her to me. I became her mom. At nine, I became a mom of a four-year old. Since mom died, Joyce and I became inseparable. We studied at the same school, wore the same sandals, watched the same cartoons, played the same games, and read the same books. I helped her master the four basics of math. I helped her familiarize herself with the Phhilippine history. I helped her draw circles and sticks. From 1998 up to now, I became her mom.

I ain’t just a mom. I’m also her sister. Her friend. Her confidante. Her guardian. Her mentor. That’s why upon hearing her breaking news, I felt the world fall down on me. I’m confused. Scared. I felt probably thrice the trembling she was feeling that time. I thought of so many things, but not of slapping her. I never thought about slapping her.

For that was the time she needed me the most. I took it as another chance to make her feel my best as a sister. I turned my back against late-night gimmicks. I said no to house party invites. I had my name removed on the Jaipur guestlist. I skipped shopping with friends. I waved goodbye to my habitual venti galore with my best pals. I said pass on the usual barkada rituals. There has been a major change. But I remained the same sister – ten times the TLC.

Right now, she’s at her fourth month of pregnancy. This afternoon, she just had an appointment with her doctor. I wasn’t there. Little by little, I have to let her stand on her own. I’m not leaving her. I’m just focusing on my role as a mentor, and a part of it is to welcome her to the world of being independently strong. On her check-up, she was with John, her very loyal boyfriend who takes care of her almost the way I do. He missed on one, though. But he’s been forgiven.

So far, we have passed the first level of this new labyrinth. There’s a long way to go. Joyce will soon be a mom and with that, all I’m wishing is for her to be the best mommy in the world. The baby will be named Marsha (assuming that it’s a girl). Joyce and I had a deal – Marsha will call her “Mama”, and me “Mommy”. Fair enough.

My Life Minus the Typographical Errors

Words, by far, are what I consider the best weapon I have against the fiendish villains of real life. There are several reasons why I blog. First, life also has what we call “dead air”. Sometimes, we have nothing to do but sit in a bedbug-infested couch and wait ’til our backs ache. We stare at the television, forcing ourself to watch those teleseryes shown by the biggest TV networks after their top-rated noontime varieties – teleseryes that we can’t even remember the titles of. To sum it all up, life reaches to a boring point. And to make the spare time productive, I write.

Second, my major is English, and I am required to write – a requirement that I do time after time with the best enthusiasm I can possibly extract from me. Not writing wouldn’t make me less of an English major, but writing makes me more of it, so I choose to write.

Third, writing is better than having premarital sex, or doing drugs, or swimming in a pool of beer, or going to the mall to splurge more than a thousand pesos for a pair of rubber flops. Writing doesn’t kill time. Rather, it makes the time livelier.

And fourth, my camera can’t capture all my good-for-writing experiences, so I use my pen, my paper, and my words to do the shots. Besides, I am not good with photography, but I am a humble woman of the pen-and-paper activity. With passion as the initial capital, I am trying hard to develop the kiosk of writing prowess I have with me.

I check my blog site everyday. I don’t know why. Maybe I am just a bit narcissistic when it comes to my “masterpieces”, or maybe, it just really feels good to reminisce and appreciate how well I was able to capture the moments using my own version of a five-megapixel camera. I care about people viewing my site. Otherwise, I woldn’t have signed up for a free WordPress account. I made my blog site open for everyone to see. I would be pleased to know that the readers have somehow been entertained by my posts. But I would be even more pleased to see that the readers have been touched by what some others consider as mere trash. Haters are unavoidable, so to my co-writers, let us not be intimidated by those who appreciate in the inconvenient way. We’re still alive. We will be famous when we die.

Questions of a Woman

If a woman would give it all, be it tangible or not, would she ever be loved by a man? If a woman would fully submit herself to the wills of a man, would she possibly get the amount of love that she deserves to have? If a woman would have herself confined within the walls of what a man dictates, would she ever be respected or at least treated fairly? If a woman would give up the essence of womanhood, and face a whole new role, something close to a slavery, would a man show her how valuable she is? Or would her value slowly slip away? If a woman would disregard herself and shift her attention to the man she truly loves, would she ever get something to compensate with the lack of self-fulfillment? If a woman would give a love that’s everlasting, would she get the same ounce of love that she gave? Would it rain love for her? Or would she just be showered by occasional drizzles of affection?

Words to the Secret Alter-Ego

Stupidity is a contagious disease and you seem to have been inflicted. Once again you stand still, showcasing an image — a desperate image ready to endure the ironically unexpected outcomes of desperate expectations. You suffered several days of not being able to get up because of the emotional fevers and chills that wouldn’t go away, nor would be abated by sardonic medications, which, for the record, are unprescribed.

For the nth time, you submitted yourself to the trap of deception. You satisfied someone else’s exigency while you constantly hurt yourself. You were never known as a masochist yet you seem to derive pleasure from the pains he invariably throws to you.

Perhaps it is the blasphemous love that draws you close to him. Perhaps it is the blasphemous love that leaves you choiceless despite the million choices laid unseen before you. If that’s the case, then screw love.

But that, for sure, is one thing that you wouldn’t do. For you are emotionally weak. And you seem to have mastered the art of martyrdom and puerility, and the indissoluble combination of the two.

You’ve spread your diamonds before him, yet he found no brilliancy in them. You’ve shone your brightest light towards his perfectly crafted face, yet his eyes didn’t show the slightest flicker. His cold shoulder is something you are aware of, yet you embraced the idea of giving him some more. You embraced that absurd idea, undeterred by the fact that your indulgence will never be returned.

Where’s the indisputable self-respect you once boasted? Where’s the solid dignity you once displayed? Where’s the undeniable wit you once emblazoned? Where’s the rocklike pride you once showed off?

Your self-respect has withered. Your dignity has become stale. Your wit has dried up. Your pride has deteriorated. You are nothing but a discomposured statue of abashment.

Standing firm is one thing you’re good at. And I wouldn’t dare let you tumble down. I wouldn’t dare make you fall once more. Hate is too severe a word, and I wouldn’t dare hate you. For after all of these, everything narrows down to one final conclusion — I am you, and you are me.

A 20-Minute Forever

A little past ten in the evening, and there we are, walking along the almost depleted foyers of a once mundane place that soon became of utmost importance to me. We were at the south, and we’re heading to the other side of the parking lot, which made me consider that we will be together for at least 20 more minutes. Each step we took brought us closer to the estimated 20-minute time, and for the first time in my life, I wished we had rheumatism, and I prayed that it will strike instantly, so as to prolong our time together.

We were about half a meter away from each other — a safe distance for friends, I assumed. I brought with me the perfect eyesights for each eye, and so I was able to take a good look at him, a secret one, though. He was about 5′7″, with a body same as that of the boy next door, and the face of an angel. He had a well-waxed hair, which made me think that if i had it muddled, I would at once be cursed by him. But that, of course seemed impossible — angels don’t curse. His voice need not be questioned. It was as soft as his face, as gentle as his laughter, as warm as his smiles, and as comforting as his stare. His stare. I avoided nothing but his semi-chinked eyes, for I had been told once, that a mere contact of my eye to another eye can make me fall in love. I took it as a warning.

During those moments, I realized that maybe, forever doesn’t really have to take forever. Forever might last for only twenty minutes, or less, depending on how each minute was cherished. And so for me, I took each millisecond exorbitantly, and savored my version of forever with much felicity.

I am an experienced receiver of heartbreak and I have learned that everything will eventually come to an end. To expect is a choice, and I must be ready for the consequences that go with it. My version of forever has all been captured in my mind, and safely stored in the innermost chamber of my heart. So when the time comes that he can no longer be with me, I’ll content myself with visions of him that are expertly superstructed in my imagination.

Two weeks have passed since I had my twenty-minute forever with him. And up to now, I ask myself, did my eyes really avoid his?