alanis speaks...

...and she speaks to me.
was she a spectator to my life in 2005?


You've been my golden best friend
And now with post-demise at hand
I can't go to you for consolation
coz we're off limits during this transition

This grief overwhelms me
It burns in my stomach
And I can't stop bumping into things

I thought we'd be simple together
I thought we'd be happy together
thought we'd be limitless together
I thought we'd be precious together
But I was sadly mistaken

You've been my soulmate and then some
I remembered you the moment I met you
With you I knew God's face was handsome
With you I saw fun and expansion
This loss is numbing me it pierces my chest
And I can't stop dropping everything

I thought we'd be sexy together
thought we'd be evolving together
I thought we'd have children together
I thought we'd be family together
But I was sadly mistaken

If I had a bill for all the philosophies I shared
If I had a penny for all the possibilities I presented
If I had a dime for every hand thrown up in the air
My wealth would render this no less severe

I thought we'd be genius together
I thought we'd be healing together
I thought we'd be growing together
thought we'd be adventurous together
But I was sadly mistaken

thought we'd be exploring together
thought we'd be inspired together
I thought we'd be flying together
thought we'd be on fire together
but I was sadly mistaken

ready to dive again

ready to go into the water again.
six months is a long enough time to heal.

i miss the fish,
the salt,
the wind,
and the feeling of time stopping.

end of a chapter

because Christmas is about forgiveness and asking for it.
because Christmas is about letting go and being happier.
because Christmas is about being thankful for the good times that were, and for the bad times that are over.
becuase Christmas is about laughter and good times and the Biggest Birthday Party in the world.

to kinder gods and fiercer loves
to brief jealousies and even shorter griefs
to wine, to tea, to sunsets and coffee
to family, friends, country.

maligayang pasko.
good journey and healing to you, ñ

craziest place i've ever worked in

welcome to the world of the lesser known greek and roman gods and goddesses, which includes the goddess of the flabby-bellied, big-armed, tattoo-sporting single women over thirty.

mooning the recovery room

gave birth to quadruplets yesterday -- a quartet of polyps (who i've named eeny, meeny, minie and moe) that have been residing in my uterus and have been making me a bit unwell this past year. so they had to go, in typical embarrassing and hilarious fashion, like everything else in my funny life.

a couple of things i’ve learned during this particular hospital stay, which i impart to you in the off chance you’ll find yourself in the same position as i am.

1. it is impossible to pee while laying down. it is doubly impossible to pee into a bedpan. it is only with superhuman powers that one can pee in a bedpan while lying down surrounded by people in showercaps and scrubsuits.

2. anesthesia makes you funny. at the start, it feels like a big punch in the arm, then it brings you to a soft fuzzy warm place where it is normal to smile goofily at anyone who comes your way.

3. the rudest way to wake up from an anesthesized sleep is having a catheter yanked out of you (aaaack!) it is the height of rudeness to have a catheter yanked out of you partway, then a pause to explain what is happening, before the damn thing is taken out completely.

4. hospital gowns have a reason why the opening is at the back. it’s to give patients a chance to moon the other patients in the recovery room.

have i grossed you out of your mind yet?
yes? good.
my work here is done. off to more world domination!

what i did this weekend, allah be praised

had a spur of the moment long weekend in puerto galera where i ...

... got my hair corn rowed (not the smartest decision i've made in my life)

... sprained my ankle, not on the rocky mountainside off tamaraw beach, but on the step of the henna tattoo place

... was bitten by a cat while i was trying to hypnotize it into falling asleep.

haven't had this much fun in a long long time.

photos available upon request =)

prayer for the babies

went on a road trip today and took the roads i usually think of as my spiritual home.

went to mass at a a safe haven amongst the mountains and the wind and was unusually blessed with the gift of tears.

and it was there that i prayed for the littlest ones, whose arrivals were and are eagerly anticipated and in whose lives i wish to add a lot of laughs to.

hannah francesca, martina paula, martina pauline, alfonso (maybe), angelie jolie (nyark not likely), little nameless baby still in the tummy, fabada -- you were all in my thoughts today.

may you grow up to be beautiful, strong, and filled with grace always. having you in this world has brought so much happiness to a place that so desperately needs it.

the mind reader

i don't love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
i love you as one loves certain dark things,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.


senor pablo neruda is one amazing dude.
he can read minds

1 am

i think of you at 1 am
and i smile

and wonder what could have been.

you must be the one
causing me
my shattered sleep

it was great seeing you again.
wish you could have stayed longer
so we could have talked some more

at 1 am.

maiwan na ang lahat ...

... pwera lang si murphy :(

how could i have been as thoughtless as to leave my baby in davao after a weekend of partying? there is no bigger bonehead than i.

i'm so sorry, murphy. i will never leave you again. in the meantime, you can clean ninin's house while you're still there.

forever

that's my belly button, and my permanent daisy under it. gawd, i love my life!

may i never be that stupid again, and may i always be this stupid forever.

the one that got away

i just love the concept of having a One that Got Away -- the one who coulda woulda shoulda been The One. who for some reason or another just didn't fit perfectly into the big picture but still left an imprint that is sweet, sentimental and vaguely hilarious.

(this concept, by the way, came from an article written by mark macapagal sometime 2003. i loved that article so much that i actually sent him fan mail. i hope to God he never sees this blog =p)

i think everyone has a One that Got Away. it's almost always about an almost relationship with an almost perfect someone that plainly did not happen. and most of these One that Got Away stories take place over a short period of time, and thankfully just leave a heartache that can be cured by a long drive, a chocolate bar, a couple of cigarettes, and four pairs of new shoes.

my One that Got Away happened in summer 2003. it was short, unbelievably sweet, and totally unexpected. it is the stuff amateur poetry and teen romances are made of. and when the realization came that He was my One that Got Away, i derived a large measure of comfort from what a friend told me. "when i saw you two together for the first time, you had that aura of having already been friends for a million years."

the nice thing about completely recovering from the One that Got Away is that you'll get to spend dinner parties recounting every hilarious detail of what coulda woulda shoulda been.

i've completely gotten over my One that Got Away years ago, who is still very much the closet romantic and late night shrink he was two years ago. from what i read, he's having the time of his life still, and is still loved by all he meets.

happy birthday, my friend. everyone must have a One that Got Away in order to say they have truly lived. and it's great that of all the people who coulda woulda shoulda been, i'm glad you're the One... that Got Away.

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.

why spelling bees are ridiculous

i flipped the channel to espn one day (in hopes of finding ice skating finals) when i stumbled upon a spelling bee, an actual american national spelling bee which apparently has been going on every year for the past twenty-something years. a spelling bee! on espn! what is this world coming to?

spelling bees are strange. the kids who join are almost all 100% nerds, and the words are stranger still -- strange medical and scientific words that absolutely nothing to do with real life. the whole process is downright surreal and funny that my sister and i actually watched the whole thing.

how it goes:

1. kid (age range: 11-14 years old) steps up to mike and official pronouncer gives a word. the kid has 90 seconds to spell it.
2. kid can ask the word's definition, etymology, and hear a sentence with the word in it.
3. the kid has to pronounce the word right before trying to spell it.
4. kid spells.
5. if he gets it right, applause. if not, a little bell dings and he's outta the game. there's even a crying room at the back of the stage for the kids who lose.

i really don't see the point of spelling bees. first, almost all the words have never been pronounced out loud since words were created. and i don't see the point of knowing how a word is spelled if you don't know what it means and probably won't use it in normal conversation for the rest of your life. and some of these kids actually learn latin to help them in spelling bees. latin! who would they talk with? most of all, what value does a spelling bee add when these kids are looking for a job?

gawd what nerds.

oh, and who's the bigger nerd, the kid who joins the spelling bee or the one who sits in front of the tv watching it for two hours?

lights are on but no one's home

take me anywhere but here.

i look the same as i did last week. no one can tell that i'm any different from the way i was last week.

that's the problem. one can have a broken leg and everyone can tell. having a broken mind and a broken spirit is impossible to see.

the great thing is i feel nothing.

back on this island

eight years after watching the play once on this island for the first time, planning to watch it again left me with a bit of trepidation. i was such a different girl eight years ago, and i was a bit afraid of how much it would affect me again eight years after (or scarier, how little it would matter.)

i should have known by now that trying to recreate the past is the biggest exercise in futility. i tried to get the whole gang to watch it together but i had forgotten that the gang is no longer in college -- one's married, one's in china, one's in rome, one's in singapore, one got tickets for a different date, ad nauseum – and that the gang has different lives already.

thank goodness ma cherie was free, so at least i'd be able to see it with someone who was there with me the first time. the gods must have been smiling at us that night, as we got free upgrades to much better seats in the theater (partially thanks to the ten “brothers” who sat in the balcony with us, who would rather watch a play on a Friday night then hang out in a bar to drink beer.)

the play was as fun as ever. i cried at the parts i wept at eight years ago. and eight years ago, i would have never dreamed that my life would mirror Ti Moune’s. at least she became a tree. i still have to learn to forgive.

Asaka, Ague, Erzuli, Papage, i will dance for you on this island. always.