I miss you.

It's so hot.  Summers still surprise.  I'm used to this kind of heat, but then, I always complain.  People always complain.  The heat suddenly hits you like a tease.  And then it drowns you with the reality that it IS summer.

Oohh, summer.  Interestingly enough, I haven't got much planned this summer.  Last year I was everywhere. Now, I am just... here.  Not because there's nothing to do.  I've been busy.  Incredible.  And I am kinda enjoying it a bit. I guess my first trip this year is the birthday trip.  Tibet was the plan, but true enough, as I read in some travel forums late last year, April would not be the best time to go --- China just sealed off the region.  I feel sad about it --- not about not going to Tibet to celebrate my 30th, but the fact that these two can't get along.  Conflicts are just crazy.  Innocent people get hurt in the process.  

My eyes are kinda set on Thailand though.  I sort of imagined I would like to spend my birthday week by the beach, writing, swimming, meeting people.  For the first time in years I am going to spend my birthday alone.  I sort of decided this year to go somewhere I haven't been to.  I've been to Thailand --- and even Koh Phi Phi.  I sort of planned to go to Koh Phangan, but maybe the Full Moon Party celebrations that would fall after my birthday would mean too many crazy tourists on the island.  I'd been to Koh Phi Phi on a day trip from Phuket, which wasn't much.  

What the heck, I haven't even booked my flight yet!  Haha!

Anyways.  I like being busy.  But eventually I'll get bored.  I want to dive head on to major production work.  I just love the idea of getting out of the house everyday and talk to people, argue with them, discuss with them, etc.  I love being creative.  I love socializing.

By the way, having a crush, I thought, was silly.  It's nice to entertain it for a while.  But some things are left hanging, you know.  Like T --- S told me he'd be in Europe next week, so I am not sure if his stint here is through.  As for J --- I don't know.  Workshop over.  Possibilities of working together in the future came up, but time to let this breathe.  Friendship's better at this point.

Anyway, I am SO done with Before Sunrise/Before Sunset fantasies, this girl is looking for a sense of permanence!

I hate to say this but where I am at now reminds me of the time I realized I had a crush on my French teacher.  (How come I am having this realization NOW that I ALWAYS have this French-teacher reference?  Hmmm.).  This is the state when you realize you're crushing on someone you didn't really expect you'd crush on.  I am kinda nervous of this state because the first time I felt this I actually fell in-love with the guy.  Seriously in-love.  He was an unlikely object of affection.  My French teacher, although I was NOT in-love with him (I mean, really), was an unlikely crush for me too.  This guy whom I dated, too; it was unlikely but I was surprised it would turn out he had a crush on me (hahaha!).

Anyway, this time, I think --- okay, fine, I ADMIT --- I am crushing on someone.  

It's very annoying.  He's not an annoying type of person; I am annoyed I have a crush on HIM.  Like I have no choice and should have a crush on some random person without even consulting ME.  Well, he appears VERY NORMAL, and quite good-looking, but he has this way of communicating that is too steeped with charm I just want to laugh AT him.  I almost laughed AT him a few times, when he would give me that look, and I had to bite my lip because he looked so serious.  I mean, I sound like a guy compared to him.  And he's a metrosexual! 

I cannot believe I have a crush!  On a metrosexual!

But maybe it's his height.  Maybe it's his built.  Fine, his voice is sexy.  No, I don't think he gives me THAT look which would make me think he had a crush on me.  He looks at me normal.  I treat him normal.  I am not sure if this is going anywhere.  It's like that T-guy who gave me his calling card.  So maybe this is another calling card incident.  He gave me his calling card anyways.  And he told me this afternoon he wanted to read my screenplay!

Of course, why not.  We're in the same field! 

Now that I think about it, this is the first time I am having a crush on someone in the same field.  Well, okay fine, maybe I have this crush on this major commercial director because he's incredible, and he's funny and really artistic (I also find it odd I am having a crush on creative people --- I usually like the "rational yet liberal" ones or the Frustrated Creatives/Artists) --- but this one is different.

What also KINDA scares me is... okay.  I dreamed about him before I even met him.  Seriously!  He appeared in my dream which is why when I met him two weeks ago it kinda creeped me out because he looked familiar, and then I realized he was in my dream about a couple of days before meeting him.  It's a simple dream --- I am walking on Bonifaction High Street; I am actually thinking of T in my dream whilst walking.  And this guy walks up to me, and apparently we've met before through a friend of mine, S, who is T's friend, but then I realize, hey, I haven't met this guy.  Anyways, in my dream he asks me out on a date and if I'd like to see a movie with him.  And in my dream his name starts with J.

And naturallement, his name starts with a J!

And in real life, he was the one who approached me first!  But of course he didn't (or hadn't?) asked me out anywhere.  And I hate the fact he already mentioned the "ex" factor.  I mean, come on.  Why do guys always do this?  I mean, in my experience, guys always mention to me their ex-es, like I should be threatened.  I don't like mentioning "ex-es" because for me, past is past.  I am going to bring it up if it needs to be brought up.  I kinda have this ex-girlfriend phobia.

I hate this.  He keeps appearing on my mind.  Must.  Stop.  This.  I mean, sometimes if you start crushing on someone you start to dress nicely, right.  Lately I am in this schizophrenic fashion hell.  But what the hell.  Maybe in a few days' time, like all other crushes, it will disappear, something along the lines of sticking a finger in my throat.

But anyway, I've figured out I am going to wear a skirt tomorrow.  Not for him!  Maybe as I crush on him someone's gonna crush on me who is utterly crushable, and then we'll crush each other.

What the fuck.  This is a sign I don't want to get back to work.  Assez!

Interesting Valentine's Day.  Food, wine, movies, good company...

I wonder why we sort of have some form of an acrobatic exhibition when I hang out with S and M, which T witnessed?  The last time we reached for our toes.  Last Saturday (or whee hours Sunday morning), we did some stretching thing.  Legs crossed, we tried to show how flexible we can get.  T mentioned that not all people in the world (as he is from a different part of the world) can sit on their feet; though he can, S can't.  We've spread our legs, slouched, snickered, drunken mellow.  There were fireworks in the distance, somebody from the street sent off a small fire-air balloon.

Things like this make me look forward to more things.

T gave me his calling card and told me I should call him if I wanted to visit him in his building. 

Eh?  Tricky.

Who says Singletons don't get to swing on the red-letter-V-day?

I can't remember V-day last year.  Oh wait.  I think I do now.  I saw "Saw" on cable.  And then I got into this longish chat which lasted beyond the V-day (time zone difference) which made me almost shriek (in chat-fashion), bloody-cat-murder.  It was just like any other day.  Defrosting frozen cats in the microwave was another thing though.  Misunderstandings summed up.

I am actually looking forward to this year's Valentine's Day!  Dates not allowed.  I actually have two, or three, which may turn into four or five as the day/night goes on.  The basic itinerary goes:

DVD marathon at Sylvia's; I have the following movies suited for V-day in line:

Singles (Cameron Crowe)
Sideways (Alexander Payne)
My Blueberry Nights (Wong Kar-Wai)

Come on.  You put Cameron Crowe and Wong Kar-Wai in one night?  And then you throw in a bittersweet movie on wine tasting?  Bloody hell.  Bloody Valentine!

Of course, there's food.  I have yet to think of my contribution.  The last time I brought a box of cheesecakes, which probably contributed to the three pounds I gained that week (haha).  This time, Miro insists on bringing the wine.  Sylvia loves to work in the kitchen and she mentioned she's going to do a yummy chicken dish.  There might be a third guy joining us, a music director, I don't know his part yet.  I don't know what to bring --- a stripper?  Haha.

Nah, am thinking I should probably make pica-pica; I think Sylvia mentioned I can use her kitchen if I needed to cook something.  Shall I make my yummy zucchini pizza? I have yet to research on nice finger food.  I am kinda inclined to get something from Chmara, maybe their healthy popcorn or tofu chips.  Hmmm.... couscous?

Anyway, as it's going to be an open night, and I don't have to bring my car (Sylvia said I can sleep in her place, or I can park the car in her empty parking space), I am looking forward to having drinks.  Ta-daaah.  Yeah.  Hmm.  Sylvia said the guy next door may be a cute Aussie guy... let's see shall we?  Hahaha.

What can I say.  Me, single, still.  You do what single women do.  You do Life! (Life, here I come)

As I have been in this conditioned state of becoming more responsible and attentive to my other work, aka the "in the meantime" stuff, I decided to finish everything in the afternoon and reward myself some TV watching.  It's like this: when I stay at the Manila house I don't get to watch a lot of TV, but at my parents' house, I have three television sets to choose from with its own DVD player.  And I can stay up late and early in the morning.  Anyway, as I had stayed at the Manila house for a week last week, I decided to catch up on some TV and watch random shows from a Dirty, Sexy, Money episode I already saw last night to that British show on Lifestyle Network called How to Look Good Naked.

And then I came across this ad at the Second Avenue channel and found out that the local UHF has Ally McBeal reruns Mondays at 5PM.  It's a Monday and it was 3PM.  I knew had to watch Ally McBeal.

Here's the thing:  I was a huge fan.  Ally McBeal was The Show, which would lead me to discovering one of my favorite TV programs of all time, The Practice.  Anyways, I found myself LOVING Ally McBeal because I could identify with her.  Well, it's basically with the whole "unstable, emotional, out-of-this world" woman who happens to work in a supposedly rational workplace: a law firm.  And she's a romantic.  And David Kelly had a hit, and it was funny.  I also had my own John Cage (you don't know who you are!), but I had an accumulation of Billys, and I agree with her irrationality.

I didn't really get to finish the entire run because of my schedule, and I am not really sure if she ever found true love.  Was it Jon Bon Jovi?

So anyway.  I thought watching Ally McBeal again, at this age, when I am already approaching thirty and evidently jaded and burnt in a number of ways, would be a dry experience.  I think I mentioned Ally McBeal here several months back; I think I compared it with Grey's Anatomy.  I remember watching my first few Grey's Anatomy episodes, and Meredith's line where she gets to say "You don't get to call me a whore" struck me.  Like that Ally McBeal moment where she says, "What if?"

And so.  After a few years realizing I have turned into a "You don't call me a whore"-type of person (in a metaphorical sense, of course), this afternoon, I was reminded of "What if?"

Out of the several episodes that 2nd Avenue would show this afternoon, they showed probably one of my favorite episodes.  It's the one involving a can of Pringles, a tube of spermicide, lottery tickets, and Omar Shariff.  Generally, the plot goes Ally goes to the supermarket, has a tiff with a woman, stretches a leg to stumble the woman which would lead to the woman having a mild concussion, Ally getting arrested, and in addition to the major hoopla with the woman, the store cameras caught her with a tube of spermicide in her coat pocket. 

The spermicide thing, apparently, is a big deal.  Her roommate, who is also a lawyer, asks her why she would shoplift spermicide (which Ally defends she did not shoplift it, she was planning to pay for it but she was embarrassed to get one, but she didn't get to pay it with rest of the groceries because of her arrest).  The point is, why buy spermicide?  She's not even having sex!

I thought it was funny. Why buy spermicide?  I was suddenly reminded of the time pre-Boracay, my friend and I agreed we should be responsible and prepared, hence, we should shop for condoms which I ended up doing alone because she was late getting to the drugstore (who would have thought it would be that difficult?  Bridget Jones had the same problem --- should she go for extra large?  Dotted?  Ribbed?  Extra sensitive?  Does the condom perform the magic wonders?  What the fuck matters?  And how come we girls were the ones buying it?  Why did at some point I regretted an opportunity because I was the one who did not have one?  How come HE was not ready?  I wouldn't be wearing it in the first place!).

Well, Ally compared spermicide to Omar Shariff in Funny Girl.  She said, well, she might not be having sex now, but what if one day she's walking on the street, meets someone from another world, they look at each other, and celebrate that moment not by singing about it but by getting a room and making passionate love.  She also reasoned to Billy, the love of her life who is married, that buying the tube o'jelly was like holding a lottery ticket: you hold it in your hand and think, "What if?"

And this afternoon, I came to realize, hey, it won't be so bad to think "what if?"  Maybe I won't buy a tube of spermicide (I am not sure if I can get that in this country in the first place) and maybe the unused condoms in my bag will be just that: unused condoms.  But I like to hold a possibility in my hand and anticipate the Man Looking for My Door.  And I don't mind singing about passionate love and dancing barefoot on grass celebrating it.  And then the idea of getting a room won't be so bad.  As I was told, wonder is the key.

*Sigh* So nice to realize that the whimsical romantic in me is still alive.  In the meantime, maybe I'll stick to the usual cooking shows, documentaries, and the making-out-in-the-hot-tub segments in Blind Date.

I also saw Vicky Christina Barcelona last night.  I'll write about it another time.

I am starting to venture out of the usual contractual writing thing which I have been doing mostly in the past, oh, four years, and have started to venture into... more writing gigs!  At least the content is different but I have to admit I am having difficulty getting the hang of it.  The thing is, I love this sort of writing --- features, cultural commentary --- but now that I have been doing years of writing business-related (mostly) materials, I can't seem to get the words strategic and positioning out of my writing language.  Somehow I have the tendency to infuse some market-related insight.  Aurgh.  Or I start to sound as-a-matter-of-factly, but how can I work make facts creative and translate them into a set of non-data descriptions?

But that's the thing with writing new things, right?  Stepping outside this cage that has long encased me.  This is a great challenge. 

I am also writing a new screenplay which is a breath of fresh air.  So fresh that I can't seem to "watch" the story in my head.  See, it's not my story, and I am in this process of understanding characters that are not my creation.  Or characters that I am not supposed to touch too much.  I can't relate to them.  They're too different.  And their reasoning is different, their life and their values.  At this point I haven't found the ground of sympathy towards them.  But I will.  I guess this is the beauty of this challenge --- writing something I am trying to get to know.  Like an assigned lover I have to know well with my hands and thoughts.

Assigned lover, huh.  Double agent, I.  No wonder I like to juggle different sorts of work.  I am looking forward to venturing out of writing for a bit though.  Like an old lover I can also get sick and tired of it (haha).

I hate blaming the weather but fuck the weather.  It's so HOT.  And HUMID.  About a week ago it was chilling and windy, and it was nice and warm under the blankets.  Today I feel like I am caught between May and June, with the scorch of the summer ending and the typhoons of the wet season start coming in.  Dark clouds outside, and a bit of a drizzle, which made me decide I should just skip the running clinic in Ultra, which is basically far from my current homestead.  I thought I should pick up on yoga by following the instructions on the Internet tonight instead.

As I did come up with a set of plans for the year (yeah), I thought I should check myself so far.  I am not sure about the progress at this point though, but what I like a lot is that I am improving my social circle.  Or rather, I am spending more time socializing.  I have been recently hanging out more with my pals from French class in 2007.  I only got to spend one term with them as my first two terms I took the morning lessons.  When I shifted to the evening class, things quite improved.  Okay, I admit, I had this girlcrush thing on my French teacher.  Haha.  I HATE to admit that.  And yes, my French teacher is French, and as far as Frenchmen stereotypes go, he's not that kind of Frenchman.  He's dork-looking in a cute way.  And short and thin.  With receding hairline.  But maybe it was his eyes. They're gray.

And he had a girlfriend.  Not sure if they're still together though.  But that's not the point, I haven't seen him in months, but when I saw him in Penguin months ago, I couldn't bring myself to say hi.  I was with Liz at that time, and pointed him to her, and she was, like, "You have a crush on that?" 

Anyway!  See me digress.

Alright, so I met my French classmates in 2007, went out with them a few times in 2007, but we sort of drifted apart when we stopped taking the classes.  I only got to spend time with them in 2008 when I was at a book fair at the Insituto Cervantes and saw Sylvia, and then Miro.  From there Sylvia and I would hang out a few times like at the M Cafe, and we were even in this North Luzon photo trip last year.  At the beginning of the year we got together with Miro for yummy dinner at Je Suis Gourmand, and then Miro, Sylvia and I started planning we should push through with our DVD festival, a day spent just watching videos.  Anyway, we finally had one last Saturday at Sylvia's, and afterwards, at 1AM, we went to M Cafe and rubbed elbows with... people.  Haha.  It was a great day.

Last night the three of us met up briefly and went to the Rockeoke (yes, like karaoke although you sing with a live band and you get to pick stuff from The Beatles to Nirvana).  It was fun.  We didn't sing, but maybe next time.  Anyway, we have planned to meet up on Valentine's Day as clearly none of us are going to get dates that day (huh).  And I just received a text message from Chin inviting me to trek Mt Pinatubo and then go hot air balloon-ing this V-day weekend.  Let's see then.

This Friday I am going to take my friends from high school to Penguin Cafe and have them witness a gig by the Pinikipikan.  I CAN'T WAIT.  I love Pinikipikan --- though I think they are changing their name starting this year, and they're in this name-transition phase.  

This weekend we are going to throw a first birthday celebration for my nephew.

Next weekend, I MIGHT go surfing in La Union.

I am still planning my birthday trip this April.  My initial plan is Tibet, but I've been computing and it seems that at this point, I might not have enough funds.  My second choice is Kathmandu.  If that doesn't work, maybe I'll backpack for two weeks in SEAsia instead, go to Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam and Thailand.  But my heart's really set on Tibet, maybe I 'll take a tour from Kathmandu and then go back east via the Lhasa-Beijing train.  That would be awesome.

Sylvia told me last night that she has a friend who is a local painter, and he sold one of his paintings for P750,000.  Maybe I can live like that, no?  Work on a few masterpieces, sell them and then spend the rest of the year traveling.  Spend each day doing what you love.

I WILL ---

Find a new job.  Or a combination of jobs that I love and will lead me to my ambitions, i.e. those that do not make me want to eat my head.
Save more.
Move out and get my own apartment. 
Build on my writing portfolio.
Attend to the car more.
Shop smarter.  No more shoes on sale that I will never wear.  Save up on expensive, sturdy ones that I will love and use for the next 5 years. 
Buy books that I will read in the next two months.
Become more physically active: running, pick up on yoga, go to the gym more, occasional surfing and swimming.
Learn to scuba dive.
Pick up on French and take it to the next level.
Revive the social butterfly in me.
Travel more and go to North America this year.  AND Europe.
Keep my weight under 112lbs.
Learn how to network.
Increase book reading by 20%.
Eat healthy and drink more water.
Take steps to become a 3/7 vegetarian.
Wake up early.
Control occasional road rage.
Speak up yet be more constructive.
Do regular volunteer work.
Go to the dentist and the physicians for the usual check-ups.
Revive the understated fashionista.
Be more optimistic.


I WILL NOT ---

Procrastinate.
Spend more time watching TV than working.  Or reading.  Or writing!
Sleep more than eight hours (unless jet-lagged, sick, or having a hang-over.  Haha!).
Bother with commitmentphobics, liars, amnesiacs, alcoholics, chimneys, freeloaders, chauvinists, pigs, chauvinist pigs, perverts, directionless twats, twats who can't make up their minds, hypocrites, workaholics, users, two-timers, three-timers, people who don't mean what they say... you get the drift.
Waste my energy on those that are not worth it or are not sustainable.

Ah, progress.

I don't know about you, but I am quite stunned to be starting a new year when a new one just started.  And so we have the Chinese New Year coming up.  The Year of the Ox.  According to my Chinese sign, 1979, those born during the Year of the Sheep/Goat/Sheep-Goat (haha) are unlucky this year.  Last year, the year of the ... I don't remember now, I was supposed to be lucky.  I was even told I'd get married last year.  Hahahahahahahaha.

I should stop laughing.

I don't mind entertaining this stuff.  Hey, this is the Philippines.  We're superstitious at the core.  Local TV shows ALWAYS have a geomancer as a guest saying things about luck, bad luck, fortune, misfortune, and lucky pineapples and other stuff you need to buy in order toward off bad spirits.  If you don't watch this type of shows, they somehow surprisingly show up during NEWS.  Can you believe it?  I happened to watch the news this evening, and I wouldn't be surprised if my mother would buy certain Year of the Ox-friendly decors to invite luck.  I even conceded the other day when I bought tikoy for the Manila house and my parents' house.  I mean, for me it's not just about luck, I love eating that stuff.

But anyway.

I am quite fancying writing down a list in a Bridget Jones manner.  It's not a habit of mine to write down plans or lists, or even resolutions, but maybe I'll push through with it. Gimme a few hours, I just need to finish work.

And by the way, a friend of mine sent me an SMS the other day as she had a meeting with a fortune teller; same friend whom I went to a Psychic Fair in Eastwood maybe a couple of years ago.  She was probably surprised I was not interested to go with her this time; this is the same fortune teller who told me I'd get married last year.

Hahahahahahahahaha.

I read this from the Literaryquotes community a few minutes ago; it really made me laugh.  Nice, wise one, I must say.  It's from the book Love, Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli.

March 12

Dear Stargirl,

Hey, you're a big girl now. Stop being such a baby. You think you're the only one who's ever lost a boyfriend? Boyfriends are a dime a dozen. You want to talk loss, look at all the loss around you. How about the man in the red and yellow plaid scarf? He lost Grace. BELOVED WIFE. I'll bet they were married over 50 years. You barely had 50 days with Leo. And you have the gall to be sad in the same world as that man.

Betty Lou. She's lost the confidence to leave her house. Look at you. Have you ever stopped to appreciate the simple ability to open your front door and step outside?

And Alvina the floor sweeper- she hates herself, and it seems she's got plenty of company. All she's losing is her childhood, her future, a worldful of people who will never get to be her friends. How would you like to trade places with her?

Oh yes, let's not forget the footshuffling guy at the stone piles. Moss-green pom-pom. What did he say to you? "Are you looking for me?" It seems like he hasn't lost much, has he? Only... HIMSELF!

Now look at you, sniveling like a baby over some immature kid in Arizona who didn't know what a prize he had, who tried to remake you into somebody else, who turned his back on you and left you to the wolves, who hijacked your heart and didn't even ask you to the Ocotillo Ball. What don't you understand about the message? Hel-loooo? Anybody home in there? You have your whole life ahead of you, and all you're doing is looking back. Grow up, girl. There are some things they don't teach you in homeschool.

Your Birth Certificate Self,
Susan Caraway

Talk about that wiser voice in your head.  I kinda miss being a teen-ager.  I felt like that wide-eyed cat, curious about the world.  With great expectations.  I don't want to say that age has made me more jaded, but then maybe so.  The secret, I guess, as I read somewhere, that it is important to never lose the wonder.  Which is always why I will always run to my Birth Certificate Self.

Oh well. Another year lies ahead!

I am not too sure about 2009, to be honest. Unlike the transition between 2007 and 2008, I entered the New Year bringing something into the next 365 days --- which would eventually, of course, fall apart a few months into the new year. This time, I am not bringing anything in as I am leaving a lot of things behind. Including my 20s.

Oh man. I am going to turn thirty this year.

I don't know if it's something to be sentimental about. Ideally, I would enter my 30s with tons of stuff with me. But I have nothing, just experiences. It's like starting over, with a new slate. The difference is that memories and issues will always come with me. Either they will hold me back or push me forward. I don't want to feel old, but I am getting old. Benjamin Button probably has it better.

So anyway. Here's to 2009!

And so I can't help having some form of drama in my life. Which is really bad as the drama can be self-created. Which is also really ironic because I HATE self-created drama. I constantly complain when people complicate things. I like straightforwardness. But I can't help but give in to the drama sometimes. It makes me feel human.

I guess that's my problem. I like being human. Most of my life --- okay, maybe about half of my life, at this point --- I've been on a pedestal. It was alienating. So I wanted to be normal. For the past well, several years, I am trying to be normal. My life is normal but I think there is always something in me that makes me unfit for the mainstream. It's a stupid struggle. I am a bundle of contradictions unraveled. Which is why I have dramatic tendencies. A lot of things in my life have been pulling me to different directions and there are times I react for the wrong reasons. And I justify it by saying I am just human. But then maybe I am not, not in an inhuman sense, but more of --- I am human in a different way. I will always be on that pedestal.

The things is, I am trying to revive that former reality, and it's been hard. I must have burned my non-human costume. Sometimes I feel like I have amnesia, but unfortunately, I only remember the wrong things. Again, I am aiming to reach for that mental reset button.

It's not easy to get that magic back. But I guess that's part of the process. After all, I am still human.

***

At least here's something to look forward to!

Salads
Smoked Salmon with Dill Cream
Bruschetta Roulade with Herb Brie Cheese
Garden Salad with freshly made Dressing

Cold Dishes
Fresh Catch: Shrimp, Oysters, Prawns
Selection of Sushi and Maki

Asian Dishes
Roti Chanai and Naan
Assorted Dim Sum
Mongolian Noodles/Rice Toppings

Western Dishes
Pizza and Pasta
Roast Lamb

Desserts
Chocolate Fondue Fountain
Signature Flourless Cake
Tiramisu Cups and Crème Brulee

Dinner buffet at the Circles Events Cafe, Shangr-la Makati. Tonight. With my dearest friends Liz and Leah. I get to wear my favorite dress, this gray-knit mod-type sheath, black stockings and boots. And drinks! Maybe we'll hop from one bar to the next and compare notes.

One day at a time. I just can't wait to hang out with the girls.

I am trying to remember a dream I had this morning.

In my dream --- we're in a university campus, UP, I think. I am accompanying my friend Liz and her friend (I don't know who), and at the same time, I am also checking on my sister and her friend RJ. My sister and RJ are applying for law school, and that is the day of their interview. Liz and her friend are doing the same thing, but I am not sure if they are applying for law school. Some graduate school, maybe med school?

Anyway, in my dream, Liz's friend passed the interview, but then Liz is on the waitlist. Or something. The thing is, she has yet to get in. RJ, however, passes law school, and my sister doesn't. I remember in my dream my sister is crying. I try to comfort her, but she and RJ are busy discussing their plans. And so I go out. Liz is busy trying to figure things out.

When I get out of the building waiting for either Liz or my sister to come out, a guy walks up to me and introduces himself. I don't know him, he's just some guy. And then we start talking. Later on, he asks me if I want to go out of campus, and then maybe have coffee or something. I say yes. As we walk out of the campus, he starts talking about not being able to commit. That everytime he has a girlfriend, he keeps at least another one. He tells me that as a kid, he likes looking at Barbie-type dolls looking at him.

How creepy is that?

And so I stop walking and I start to think he is already making a disclaimer. Things have not started yet but he already embodies a huge roll up of an excuse. I stop walking and he gets it.

And so I go back to the campus to look for my sister and Liz and their friends, and when I get back, it's as if nothing happened. It's like the entire time, I floated over them.

I think this dream tells a lot, huh.

It’s so nice
To wake up in the morning
All alone
And not have to tell somebody
You love them
When you don’t love them
Any more

- Richard Brautigan


En reponse,


I realize I have this habit
of hanging on to things
for the wrong reasons.
In defense, they may be wrong,
but they're valid reasons, still.
Still, I can't wait
to wake up in the morning
hanging on to somebody
who is finally Right

I was browsing through one of my current "It" websites, The Huffington Post (rriiigghht), and I finally clicked on the link of the trailer of He's Just Not That Into You, which, I have to admit, I bought a few years ago for the obvious reason: spend money on some form of validation that he's just not that into me. Anyway, so I clicked because I was curious of the movie, and as I waited for the darn thing to download, I suddenly had this realization.

Why do people trash the likes of Sex and the City, Bridget Jones, and this one, He's Just Not That Into You? Well, I am not as big a fan of the Behrendt/Tuscillo work as mush as SATC and Ms Jones, but the trailer looks promising (i.e. Drew Barrymore saying something like getting rejected by seven different technologies). Usually, I find that some people (usually MEN) argue that what these books/TV shows/movies say is bullshit. What they don't realize is that the reason these are such hits among women is not because we're only after the giggle factor, there's actually truth in these situations. So yes, we see ourselves in these situations, in these scenes, in these episodes. So alright, sometimes certain situations get exaggerated, but frankly I find certain inherent truths from these creations. Fiction works if based on truth. Like the truth that he's just not that into you. Like the truth girls usually feel like idiots after having a go with a potential guy, which interestingly, potential guy is like the typical guy who drops the girl like a hot potato when things get a bit complicated. And the fact that girls are among the birds and the bees of any season. I mean, really. What are these people complaining about? Is Samantha Jones too hard to handle? Is Bridget too annoying, but really, there's a Bridget seed in each of us? And what's the matter with girls making the huge mistake of sticking it up for a guy who's clearly not into her, and then finally the time comes she gets to drop him like a hot potato? And why can't guys just own up to the fact that they CAN be jerks?

Just a thought.

Frankly, sometimes I feel like my life is just this one neverending television show without a resolution in sight, with the producers getting greedy because of the amusement I and my situations provide, and that creator out there trying to maximize an already sorry situation because it's supposed to sell.

Life is Groundhog Day.

At some point I decided to leave here but then I realize that's not how it works. For me anyways. The attempt to start something new elsewhere was probably a logical thing to do, but you don't start a book and continue writing it in another form of publication. What you do is you end a chapter and start another. Stories tell of people who move on, drop things in the past and start with a clean slate. I CAN start a clean slate without the drama of evacuation. This is what I started, and this is who I am. I will always be that orange with a J and not with a G. I can evacuate but I realize my written thoughts, at the cyberworld, at least, belongs here. I am everyday and NOT just a FRIDAY, I am strange and a lot of things.

Pardon me for sounding like a verse from an Alanis Morisetter composition.

I am writing this now at around three in the morning in the island of Boracay. Boracay is the Philippines' version of Ibiza although, as based on what a friend told me on her personal experience in Ibiza, people hasn't started having sex on the beach in Boracay YET ( and I dread the day it does). It's a paradise where people can party, and people can sleep on the beach and crawl back to bed all the way from the shenanigans in Station Two and the cheapest beds in Station Three which is about thirty minutes away on foot. At the moment, my companion, my friend Liz, is drunk and asleep on her bed, and these two noisy English girls next door have been chatting since this afternoon. I kinda suspect they don't leave their rooms as every time Liz and I go back to our room they're in their room next door complaining about one thing or another. In very loud incomprehensible voices at that!

Anyway.

We just ended our third day out of our booked six days' worth of stay. On our first night, Liz and I went "beach hopping"; wearing our bikinis, we immersed ourselves in the dark waters, trying about three spots along the sixteen (?) kilometer stretch of the white beach. On our second night, I had too many mojitos and some guy, a chef in a posh resort here in the island, tried to pick-up my friend. A few hours ago, I got almost picked up by this Chinese-American who told us he's a doctor. I was not worried --- Liz IS a doctor, training to become a surgeon. He could be a doctor, but my friend is a real thing. We don't need to pose.

So there you have it. Two hot girls, a writer/filmmaker and a doctor/surgeon resident in the major referral hospital in the country, strutting and partying in Boracay... we have it all together, right?

See, when Liz and I talked about this trip, we wanted to live up to the myth, say, the myth equivalent to a typical girls' holiday on Ibiza. We agreed it wouldn't hurt, to put it frankly, to meet guys and have fun. JUST HAVE FUN. I mean, heck, we're single and not dating anyone. If guys look for action, girls do too.

I am not going to elaborate on the entire experience, but the sequence of events are quite telling. The entry-level chef guy, whom Liz was having doubts with --- well, we saw him again in the same bar where we met him trying to hook up another girl. Yep. And hours ago, after that doctor guy asked me if I'd be willing to kiss him right there and then, and I gave him a doubtful look, minutes later, when I went to the bar to ask for water, he was hitting on a blonde girl.

Yep.

So. With Liz drunk, and with a wave of revelation, I dragged Liz out of the bar and told her that THAT was not us. So what's THAT? You know. We can have a good time. We can have any guy in the bar. But we don't waste it on men who are only after for instant gratification. Okay, I admit, maybe that's what we're after too. But it was a revelation, like I said. What happened, as to how these guys behaved --- I am sorry to say but it was TYPICAL. In such cases, girls like us know when to walk away.

Because we decide at the end of the day which things and PEOPLE are not worth the effort at all.

And so Liz and I went back to the resort with a longish break where Liz asked if she could take a nap for a bit. There's a small patch of coconut trees right on the beach, and Liz fell asleep. I stayed awake, on my back, and watched the stars above.

As I looked at the stars, I started to wonder the last time I saw a shooting star. It was a night some time in October last year. I was on a date. I saw a shooting star while standing in the middle of the Sunken Garden. I was having the time of my life, and as the star flew down the sky in a flash, I wished for love. Because that's who I am. I was on a date, but I was not wishing for love out of that date (though it wouldn't be so bad), but it's something I look forward to. I look forward to the day I'll say "Finally" and ask the question, "What took you so long?". Because that's who I am. And so, well, obviously that date turned into anything but, well, people move on. I am moving on. And I am in Boracay, and a few hours ago, a Chinese-American doctor, who's cute by the way, was nuzzling my neck and I kept pushing him gently away. I told him I did not like kissing in public, but truth be told, I don't kiss strangers. Okay, so maybe I would be willing to kiss him, but not in front of everyone like I was some kind of a conquest. I was having fun but I have my lines. That's who I am. And I don't think he liked the resistance after buying Liz and I a glass of whiskey and two shots of tequila. And so he left, and I attended to my friend who was quite wasted. And then when I went to the bar to get water for Liz, I saw him making "the moves" with a blonde girl. I had to laugh. Not surprised. It was so typical. I told Liz it was okay to leave.

Because like most misses in that thing called hits-and-misses, I am moving on.

And so as Liz snoozed under the coconut trees and I listened to the lapping waves, watching the sky get covered by thick clouds, and then later on the stars would appear again, I would see the most amazing shooting star so far. It was a surprise and it was amazing.

Of course I made my wish. I was not on a date when the amazing shooting star happened, but I was in that moment when I survived an obvious mistake. I am still surviving from a series of obvious, well, not mistakes, but rather, "misses". I am currently surviving from a series of obvious misses. And then I got my shooting star. There's something to look forward to.

And so I roused Liz and told her we should move and continue our long walk back to our very own beds. I told her the next day was waiting for us, and there's so much possibility to encounter. Tomorrow is another day, maybe of misses, but maybe there's the possibility of hits. When one door closes, many others open.

As you can see, we're getting closer to the right hit. I am that optimistic.

PS - I am writing this while mellowing from a drunken stupor. Ah, progress. Hahaha!

At the moment I find it hard to breathe. I am worried. Worried about... some form of happiness forming? Stupid, huh. Maddie told me yesterday I always have a negative foresight on things, like I am constantly anticipating a problem. What can I say, I'll make an effective risk manager. Stupid worrywart.

I went as far as posting in this message board on dating (OH MAN) about my situation. The problem is, there is no problem. None at all. So there wasn't any The Talk though things are still the same other than the issue of distance. Steady communication. There's even texting if needed. Invitations and promises of good and adventurous times when I visit Canada; preferably this summer.

My problem is there is the strong risk manager in me.

Risks? Let's see. Are we still going to talk come June, July, August of this year? What if you meet someone else? What if I meet someone else? I already have a couple of prospective set-ups and I had to say no. I wanted to say no. What about your ex-girlfriends contacting you now? Girls who have been waiting for your return? Can we hang on to this that long? What are we, really? We haven't talked about it. We still talk about the things we did and we talk about the things we'd do if we're physically together. I feel that maybe we're hanging on to each other for the sake of the past, but what about the future? We're both spontaneous creatures, but there's a side of me that strategizes. I have a fucking biological clock, see. I think I have the right to know just so I can calibrate myself for whatever. I was heartbroken the same way before, and once was enough. I am having fun on my own, without you, but at the end of the day I look forward to your emails, and maybe I'll catch you online and then we'll chat and debate and rant and laugh and argue whether I should go to Canada or Eastern Europe and you're still waiting if you'll have enough money just so you can travel, but hey, why don't you just come back here and we'll have that hut in Palawan and I'll finally see you swim? You've seen me fall off the couch, the bed, slipped and ended on my butt, drag my feet, and I've seen you jump and hop and lose your balance, and fall off the bed. With me. We should see each other swim this time, in the water, this massiveness that is keeping us apart.

The risk is if I told you this you'd be too overwhelmed with these information and you'd retreat, and if I didn't, you wouldn't know.

As you can see. I just like to think that this inner rampage is brought by hormones. I am too busy, and you are busy too. We both know how and why. And if we talked more we're not going to get anything done. Discipline, we both need discipline.

But anyway. Happiness! I'm happy and I'm scared at the same time. I haven't done this before. This is new territory. But I am not rushing. Take each and every day. One day at a time. But beneath this worry is a secret smile. You know why. As that song goes. Falling slowly.

In the past three months, I am aware that I have somehow stopped writing here. Not that there was nothing to write about, in fact, there have been TONS to write about. I was (note, WAS) living with a 23 year-old Canadian male who walked around in the apartment in his boxers (among other things). Things happened in my family, especially the Youngest One. I travelled --- went surfing, went to China.

I read somewhere that if you're used to writing things, you're just going to somehow stop writing once you start living. I used to quote Thomas Mann here, about how he'd rather live a life than write a hundred stories. Or something. I believe that you can write AND live, especially if you write for a living and you get your inspiration from your life. My problem, really, is that I sort of had this conscious decision not get inspired by my life. I suck inspiration out of issues, not experience. I've had issues in the past. I guess this time, since I am "in" the experience, the issues will come later. I just hope I still get to live and continue this momentum I am in now.

I shouldn't have said momentum as, if I remember right, in physics, momentum peaks at zero. Or stops at zero. Or whatever. But hey, who says that things have to be constantly constant? You can't be an "x" forever. Be a number! Change! Be dynamic! Circle of life!

Last week I met with my favorite pirate, boytakeslife (yeah!) and I was really touched when he told me to "stay happy". Yay. I AM happy. I am happy despite the threat of having a, say, significant part of this experience being taken away from me by next week. But happiness comes from within, right. With or without you. It's all happening and will continue to be "happening".

Okay, all I am saying now is I am in a Jesse and Celine crapola, which has been happening for more than a month. Okay, so I've known him for almost two months. Yey. For the first time in this blog, I actually admitted I am some-kinda-seeing-someone. Take that, Facebook, I have finally moved up to "It's Complicated"!

Which will end, unfortunately. Okay, so I am not being all negative here, I am being realistic. The guy needs to go home, back to his home far, far, away, and finish his Master's degree. No plans at this point post-departure. I would love to have a normal relationship with this guy. This guy is crazy, he's like the National Geographic Guy, the Steve Irwin Buddy of the Left, the Hippie with the Guitar, the Hobo with the Pot, a Quintessential Global Nomad. But long distance? I am having a headache. He'll also probably have a headache. But who knows. I don't know. I've experienced this before, and I don't think at some point I handled that very well. I sucked.

But this time it's different.

Anyway, just to make it clear it is NOT my roommate although it was my roommate who introduced him as they belong to the same internship program whatsoever.

So that's it. At the moment I am back home in Manila as the lease in the apartment ended yesterday. I decided to wait after the holidays to look for a new place as I thought it would be nice to be with the family this season. I'll miss having my own place, I really liked the former one. But I guess next time I am geared for having NO ROOMMATE. I want to do things on my own and have mood swings such as, "hey, I am going to be all Bree van den Kamp today! Martha Stewart!" or be all Bridget Jones and lose my underwear between the cushions of the sofa. You know, stuff like that.

I may be seeing someone, but this girl is still a Singleton. Hey, I am from the Philippines. In my culture, the guy actually ASKS the girl for permission if he could "claim" they're an item. It's traditional, but my relationship status does not change until the guy asks. Really. And with this one, if he asked, I will not have any problems saying yes.

so while the roommATE IS away you thrw a freaking Partu with dear friends get drunk and ply charaedes and fuck who cares if i got the fuckig spellinf right is my my goddarn blog for chrissakes as how i would exclaim to regh circa high school with all thoe letters an notes between classes and you find out hoe such inocence bck in thoe tmes were actually a source of happinness, goddamnyou ageing.

so in bridget jones style i managed to cook somethin with a single working hotplate in a four burner stove with freaking oven that does ot wrk due to th elack of a freaking ga tank and i spent a bulk of time tryingn to make those darn potato balls which were too mist i almost turned them into latkes but then it was too moist for latkes they endned up being what they orginally were which were sodding mashed potaties mizex with crushed conrbflakes due to the lack of flour, anyway so i served mashed potatoes, seared chickesn in rosemary and peston and penne carbbonanara which were darn succssful i should get married and make a slave out of a husband. got drunkwith strong beer and gin and rhum and played this mafia game and then chradaes and then i realised happiness is not just about what you do but your friends as well.

marvelous time and now the fuckng red horse beer is kicking in so good nights. drubkeb post rocks yeah! typed on macbooke which your hands have yet to be still familiar with yeahs i will my yeah!!!