harry potpot

took me six hours to read harry potter 6 cover to cover.

and now i'm in mourning. i just lost an old friend whom i've admired since the start.

i should've gone to the funeral.

i would have wanted to leave a bottle of raspberry jam and bertie botts' every flavor beans at the grave.

unconditional love

it's that time of year again.

and man, what a way to start it off.

an unbelievable 30something point deficit in the second quarter alone, and an almost but not quite unembarrassing finish of an eighteen point loss.

can season 68 get more embarrassing? and to think it's just the first game.

this is a true test of unconditional love -- to still keep on cheering for and believing in my team despite the mind-blowingly horrific way they played the game today.

lose or lose, it's the school we choose.

bleurgh. *p

romblon ramblings

since my days as a freeloading bum are numbered, i’d better get my summer stories and pictures organized before they get buried under what the little prince calls matters of consequence.

one major thing i learned from this summer’s ramblings is that it is possible to have a vacation out of town and not make reservations for a place to stay. i’ve finally learned to appreciate the thrill that comes with the mindset of just showing up, unannounced, without reservations, and relying on the fates and on lonely planet that there will be a roof over my head tonight. oh, and that prissy old me can enjoy a vacation without a hot shower.

all i need is the ocean, the odd meteor or two, a hammock, a school of dolphins, sunblock spf 30, and a bunch of crazy-ass kids who survive of laughter, alcohol, adrenaline, and film.

in all the places i’ve hopped in and out of this summer, my favorite is romblon. and in response to your first question, no i didn’t see any marble. i didn’t go to that part of romblon. i spent two days in tablas island and another two days in carabao island.

how to get there and what to do once there – fly to caticlan (and skip boracay completely). take a trike to the pier of sorts of get on a biggish bangka bound for tablas island. it’s a four hour ride, so pop lots of bonamine. if possible, sit on the boat’s roof and soak up the sun. two hours into the ride, keep eyes peeled for the hundreds of dolphins that will swim alongside your boat and provide eye-popping entertainment by hurling themselves in the air and spinning and twisting with inexplicable joy. remember to scream hysterically at them which will propel them to show off some more.

disembark at tablas island and look for place to sleep. consult lonely planet and trike drivers. take a smallish bangka to the marine sanctuary 20 minutes off the island and snorkel and feed the fish. lounge around the big balsa in the middle of the sanctuary and work on tan, mooch off other people’s green mangoes and bagoong, jump repeatedly off balsa into the water, and wait for sunset. turn off mobile phone and forget the rest of the world.

return to mainland and have dinner. enjoy a couple of after-dinner beers and karaoke til next bunch of drunks take their turn to sing. stagger home and sleep.

go to the palengke next morning to forage for food. take a half-hour trike ride to aglicay beach, which will be deserted. stuff face with all manner of seafood. lie around on an inflatable mattress, look at sky, look at toes, work on tan, and thank God for the Man who made beaches.

next day, travel to carabao island. take another mini-bangka ride and travel for two hours and be prepared to have self and all belongings drenched during the ride. disembark at carabo island and wait for good-hearted natives to direct you to the only place to stay. unpack all wet stuff and hang to dry. change into swimsuit, cross street, and get in the water. play with the little kids horsing around in the water. disregard language barrier as play is a universal language. hire motorcycles in order to explore the rest of the island. seating arrangement on the motorcycles – driver, friend, self. helmets are for wusses.

get off motorcycle for pictures – on a hill, on top of a 30-foot rock, in the water, underwater. eat M&Ms to fortify strength. liberally reapply sunblock often. swim at all possible beaches. sit at the top of the mountain and wait for sunset. from vantage point, look out at the rest of the world. try to catch breath.

return to resort for free dinner with the island’s vice mayor. stuff face again. grab some beers and proceed to dilapidated floating barge on the beach and string up hammocks. lie in hammocks, talk quietly, watch the sky. scream hysterically at sudden apprearance of the biggest, brightest meteor this side of romblon. calm down. sway drowsily on hammock, listen to the water and watch the stars and trees and wind and night and the occasional gecko. stay under the stars until it gets too cold to lie around in a bathing suit. stagger back to the room. bathe in the dark. sleep like the dead.

wake up early to catch sunrise. breakfast on bread, chocolate spread, liver spread, coffee and swiss miss. pack up and prepare for one-hour bangka ride to boracay. wear prettier bikini, board bangka, take scenic route around carabao island, stopping often for little dips in likely-looking water. work on tan some more. stop at semi-deserted stretch of beach for serious sun-bathing and jumping off prow of the boat.

arrive in boracay. forage quickly for lunch, and dash off to catch boat to caticlan. board caticlan-bound boat, and pray that flight home will not be missed. disembark at caticlan, rush to airport. run madly to get inside the airport as last call for flight is being called. miss flight. argh. reserve seat for next flight. brush sand off feet. read book and wait for flight home.

life is good.

sucker

i've been suckered so badly these past two years!

watch all the B movies and read all the cheesy quotes so you'll have an idea of the lines that suckered me into believeing.

i need you.
it's been over with her even before i met you.
i'm never going to walk away.
you understand me so well.
you're my home.

gawd, what a sucker i've been. and it has to hurt so i'll remember the lesson.

ugh, i've become a boring statistic. i don't know what annoys me more, the fact that ñ left or that this story has become so boring.

may i never be this boring ever again.

employment and thirty

so i finally accepted a job offer. after almost half a year of travelling and loonying around.

i start immediately after my thirtieth birthday.

thirty. what a strange number. i can't think of any body part that numbers thirty. ten fingers, ten toes, two ears, two knees, one hundred something bones...

oh i know! thirty assorted scars from a lifetime of falling from bikes, getting scraped from falls from trees and railings, being bitten by fish, once having acid dribbled down my foot, blood donations, IV lines, ad nauseum.

what does it feel to be thirty? i wouldn't know. i still have two weeks of being 29.