Saturday, February 28, 2009

really accident prone

i console myself at the fact that things could've been worse.

at first i thought that God doesn't love me. but then when i thought about it really hard, i liked what happened to me.

if you're a commuter, you know that there's this gap between the MRT train and the platform, whether you're riding or going down. obviously, a lot of women do not know one of the basic concepts of matter that no two things can occupy the same place at the same time. they wanted to go in, we wanted to get out. a lot of pushing, pulling. next thing you know i slipped into that gap and almost half of my body was down there. the funny part wasn't even me falling into that gap. the funny part was that these women just said, "AAAAAYYYYY!!!!!" when they saw me slipping into the gap. but no real helping took place. tsk.

so i have two bruises on both legs, not to mention the other foot still aches from the last injury i had and now this. but yeah, things could've been worse. could you imagine if people didn't notice that i was there and started stepping on me? what if the train started to move? wala na si bels.
although at the time, it seemed like a good option. i still do.

no tears, no self-pity, no embarrassment. just really really prone to accidents.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

taking you out of my system, cutting you off my head

i’ve always had short hair. my dad equated long hair to whoring and early pregnancy so i never really had the chance to grow my hair long until he realized i’m old and i still had no takers. of course there’s also him growing old and bald so seeing me with a head full of hair really irritated him.

i don’t like having long hair either. i don’t really like fixing up myself to begin with, i wasn’t like that growing up, wouldn’t really start now. it’ll always be tied up in a braid or pony since i always believed that you don’t really have to exert that much effort on your looks. if he likes you, he does; he will see through all of that rubble, notice how loving and smart and funny you are and you will live happily ever after.

or not.

so I cut it all off again. well, not all, but i asked the stylist to chop a large portion of hair off my head because it felt good. if i were any thinner, i swear i would’ve have had it shorter, like I used to even though it made me look like a boy. i’m one of those firm believers in the change-your-life-get-a-haircut principle because it normally starts there. when you want to do some major overhauling with your life, you have to look the part.


i didn’t really cut my hair to impress you, i already know you know you like me, you just don’t want to admit it. it’s presumptuous, i know, but you have to give me some credit. how do you know you don't? i did this because i wanted to distance myself from you, i wanted to get you off my system. i know it’s hard, but it’s a start, right?

i’m going to stop thinking about you, stop talking about you. i want to get over you. i want to. i need to. i have to.

Friday, February 13, 2009


while i always complain about being lonely and alone (because i'm not yet a lawyer, i'm overworked and underpaid, my father can be an ass and nobody loves me), there are days when i am truly thankful that i am single and blessed. there is so much to be thankful for, after all. i have my occupation, which pays well enough than that for most people. i have friends whom i can turn to when i need to share a laugh or a tear over a cup of coffee and a pack of cigarettes. i am not obliged to give anyone a blow-by-blow account of my whereabouts and activities although i do have to inform my biological father and my boss that i will show up alive and not in a body bag for purposes peculiar only to them. i don't expect and i'm not expected to give someone a gift every month to celebrate how wonderful life is while they're in the world. it also means, however, that i don't get laid. not that it's that important.

i also have so much time in my hands to do everything else. like type out this crap you're reading right now.

i have friends who are in relationships and while there are times when i envy them, more often i am delighted that i am not in their shoes. i've already spent majority of my single life consoling friends who've had their hearts broken.

it does hurt when you invest so much love and trust on someone and that person turns out to be a big lying cheating horny bastard. i know because, i've been there and i have been spending the better part of my single life now consoling my friends who are victims of the same. sometimes it's not enough that you love someone and that they love you. it's also important that you can trust them and vice versa. respect is also important.

i've been there. i've lost myself in a relationship. i know what it's like to be so into a person so bad that you forget yourself, your value, because your world is centered around that other human being. i know what it feels like to have your heart trampled upon by some insensitive idiot.

go ahead. go out on a date on the 14th. there's so much pressure about going out on the 14th. it raises so many expectations. it has to wonderful, it has to be perfect. people expect it to last after that date. sadly, when you do something special on the 14th, it's kind of a license to be lackluster for the rest of your romantic life.

have fun. today also happens to be Friday the 13th.

Saturday, February 07, 2009

twenty-five things you probably didn't know about me

i was pretty sure i mentioned all of this here in one way or another.

1. I learned how to play chess at age 5 through my father and I played everyday until I was 12. I was actually pretty good at it until I stopped and now I’m too scared to play because I’m not as good as I hope to be.

2. I was the fastest running girl when I was in high school. I made the varsity but my father wouldn’t let me run the marathon because the shorts were too short.

3. While my speaking voice is kinda husky, I’m actually a lyric soprano, according to my 6th grade school teacher. It’s difficult to believe since I smoke too much. A lyric soprano is like a notch down a coloratura soprano. My voice range has probably gone down a notch or two since then but I still can reach high notes and sustain them. I just can’t eat a meal before any singing performance.

4. When I was in 4th grade, I had the biggest crush on Randy Santiago (the singer who gained popularity in 1987 for wearing shades) and I had a collection of his cassette tape albums and had pictures of his ever changing hairdos. I even wrote to the guy.

5. I was a member of our college debating team. I started in my third year. It’s amazing how I survived considering I don’t really read the papers.

6. I was a writer for our college paper. Yes, I write mushy poetry, really bad essays and senseless short stories.

7. I’m into British/English (or nationalities that end with “-ish”) guys. There’s something about the accent and growing up watching James Bond movies. They’re dry and they talk like they have stoppers up their butts, but think about it, all the hot guys in Hollywood are from Mother England: Jude Law, Paul Bettany, Hugh Grant, Ewan McGregor, James McAvoy, Hugh Laurie (yes, yes, I think Dr. House and his sarcastic ass is hot), Liam Neeson, Daniel Graig, Pierce Brosnan, Jeremy Irons, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, you get the picture.

8. I grew up thinking I was adopted. You know how your parents try to discipline you by saying that the boogeyman will take you or they will sell you to the man who has a turban on his head riding on a motorcycle? They didn’t say that. Every time they think I’m being incorrigible they’d say I was adopted to shut me up. Relate to #9.

9. Ever since I can remember, which is probably at age 5, I’ve had plans of running away. And it’s not because of #8 but because I realized early that there’s too much pressure in being an only child.

10. I won the general information contest when I was in second grade. I always knew I was different (translation: smart) but I didn’t realize it until they were hanging medals on my wall and stuff. No wonder there was too much pressure to excel. I showed what I was capable of. Damn.

11. I’m a late bloomer. I know how to read, I’ve been reading as early as 5 years. I wrote early, even composing poems at a young age, but as far as reading books that weren’t prescribed by the school, I only got to start reading them in high school and had to save up on money just so I can get the ones I want that were really good. I didn’t get hooked to the Vampire Chronicles until I saw Interview with the Vampire and I didn’t know about The Lord of the Rings, the book, until the movie came out. But then, we didn’t know about Orlando Bloom until the movie came out either.

12. I have an assorted collection of cassette tapes. I saved money to buy the music I wanted starting in fourth grade. Of course, my musical taste has since then evolved but I’ve always been into new wave music, growing up in the 80s and found myself singing along to them, knowing every mainstream U2, Depeche Mode, Tears for Fears, etc. song by heart, when I reached college. My collection comprises mostly of that. When they invented cds, I switched to cds. When I could afford them, of course.

13. I cry on the weirdest of occasions. Let’s just say I cry when you least expect me to. They wanted me to break down when my mother passed away but I couldn’t handle all that drama when her lifeless body was being buried six feet under the ground. I didn’t cry as much as people expected me to. I cried months later while washing the dishes. Or taking other people’s photographs (she was into that). I cried when Angel had to kill Connor when he was planning to blow up Cordelia and his hostages in the mall just so Connor could have a normal life. I cried when Spike wore the amulet and Buffy just looked at him but not saying she loves him while all Sunnydale was going down. I cry when I hear our national anthem. Crying at weddings is normal, but the national anthem? I have a similar reaction to the Star Spangled Banner. It’s a good thing I don’t understand the anthems of other countries.

14. I’ve kept a journal since age 9 but I didn’t start blogging until May 2004. I didn’t know you could do that in the worldwide web until my friend Chris told me about it. If I compiled all of the cattleya notebooks that I wrote on they’d be up to my knee or thigh (somewhere there) but I realized that later in life that you can consider that as hard evidence so a blogger I became. I blog about the people I work with, I blog about law school, my non-existent love life, my poor excuse for poetry. I blog about everything I’m interested in and I show people my work not because I want them to find out more about me but because I want them to check if my writing is good.

15. I can’t bake. I learned how to cook rice in grade 3 and everything else followed after that but I can’t bake a cake or pasta or cook anything where the main ingredient is flour. I can feed myself and probably another human being or two, but I will never be a chef.

16. I hate math. I know everybody else does but I didn’t understand algebra until I was in first year college. Imagine what I had to do just to reach first year college.

17. My nose is real.

18. I didn’t like my last name growing up, to the point I was ashamed of it. Don’t ask me why, I just don’t. I always thought it sounded funny or weird but I’d kill anyone who’d make fun of it.

19. You can tell how bored I am with someone or how I enjoy that person’s company by the number of cigarettes I’m smoking (Russ, you said I am a chain smoker, figure this one out). You can also tell how bad I think a band is based on the number of beer bottles in front of me. That’s because I have to be wasted to appreciate crap.

20. I don’t like stuffed toys. Yeah, they’re cute and if you give me one, I will accept it. Don’t worry, I don’t recycle the ones I already have.

21. I am ochlophobic, even when the crowd happens to be of people I know.

22. I almost wasn’t supposed to be here. I was a sickly kid, had too many tubes connected to me as a baby that they didn’t think I would live. Tsk.

23. When my mother died, I didn’t have a decent, acceptable black outfit to wear to her funeral. She normally picked out the clothes for me. I still don’t know how to dress properly but I now have enough black wardrobe to wear to everybody else’s funerals.

24. I have this fascination for men (and certain women) with 4-letter names. For easy recall. If there was a person I liked and the name exceeds 4 letters, I give them a nickname, also 4 letters, of course.

25. I like leaving people hanging . . . when I tell stories.

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

i never knew how to make a book report


remember when you were in grade school or even in high school, when you were asked to do a book report? the ones where you were asked to read a book and then submit a summary after, with the names of the characters and how they played a part in the storyline and you were made to figure out what the lesson was about? i was never good at those. until now when i read a book, i try to dissect it in a similar manner and while i write about them i usually don’t get it or even if i do, it doesn’t follow the whole concept of a book report.

normally when i have a new book (or cd) i usually write about it because i write about the elation i feel about finally getting it. consider the feeling of most readers when they camped out to get a hold of the copy of the last Harry Potter book. that’s how i feel whenever i get a new book. usually for a cd, i’ve listened to about half of the contents of the album and making sure i liked each cut and not just buying it simply because i liked the artist. you do that with The Beatles or in my heart, their local counterpart, The Eraserheads. you don’t wait to hear everything on mainstream radio before you buy the new Eraserheads cd, unless it’s a compilation, in which case, you already have what they have to offer. you don’t wait, you just buy.

i’ve never tried to review or criticize a book, as they say. my words will pale in comparison to what the writer envisioned when he thought up his/her creation. besides, you know what they say about critics: you don’t know how to write (sing/make a movie) one, critique one. so i’ve always just “shared” what i love or did not love about what i just read in the hope that if i liked it, you might too.

i just finished reading Book 4 of the Vampire Chronicles, Tale of the Body Thief and i just started with Book 5, Memnoch The Devil. i have a been a diligent follower of the series ever since i saw the movie (Interview with a Vampire po) and i must confess that much of my appreciation from the book stems from the fact that Anne Rice’s characters are asexual and intellectual since being damned for all those years will be no fun if you had a boring companion. and i, in my younger years have predicted a life of solitude, not to mention, the longest relationship i’ve had, my most cherished one, was with a person of the same sex. she taught me about love that one can only find in story books and that a person like myself is capable of such love and of being loved because i deserved it. i didn’t see another woman; i saw a person i could talk to about anything under the sun, someone who put up with my many flaws and imperfections, someone who took care of me and whom i could take care of for the rest of our lives.


anyway, i digress. there was initial disappointment because i saw a similar episode of Angel (the episode was, of course, based on the book and not the other way around) where he, upon investigating on the deaths of young men gets his body stolen. had i read the book first before i saw the episode, i probably wouldn’t have felt that way. turns out an old man casts a spell on sturdy young men to enjoy the pleasures of youth and with Angel’s body, he not only had the good looks and eternal youth but also the thirst for blood. despite that, i still read the book because while there is a similarity in the plot, they turn out differently. Angel and Lestat both get their bodies back but their journeys to reacquiring their original state were different. for Angel, anything they can fit into one hour, making sure he saves the day. for Lestat, there’s meeting Gretchen, the nun; getting the dog, Mojo; being disappointed that Louis wouldn’t “remake” him; seeing an indifferent Marius and finally getting help from David to regain his old powerful tanned body.

i enjoyed reading the conversations that went on between David Talbot and Lestat, Gretchen and Lestat. those are the types of conversations i’d enjoy over cups of coffee and packs of cigarettes. they need not be as articulate, but the person i wish to have a similar conversation with should be just as engaging. plus i loved the part where Lestat experiences the act of making love again, as a mortal man; him experiencing pneumonia, his agony. i was also moved when David begged not to be turned. when i was reading that part, scenes of my life were unfolding before me, acts of betrayal, whether i was the deceiver or the deceived. there was so much pain and then later on, only acceptance.

see, i don’t review the books. i write about my journey reading them too.


you thought this was going to be about you, didn’t you?

i try not to make it all about you. i have other things to think about. so do you.

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

being swift, fierce, free

i used to run very fast, when i was younger. i bet if i ran right now, i'd beat a lot of guys and girls, younger than i am. yes, even if i smoked more than most people. i can stay under water longer than most people who don't even smoke. i was a member of the track and field team. don't ask what year.

i loved running. i used to be very fit just by running. and i loved the feeling of the wind on my face when i ran. it was very fulfilling. if walking meant communing with my subconscious, running meant being one with the wind – swift, fierce, free.

i can't do that anymore, or at least, i fear i will no longer be capable of doing that. not ever. my right foot is killing me. this is still from the sprained ankle i got last Christmas and knowing how stubborn i am, i'm not going to try to see the doctor even if i had the time. i won't be able to dance anymore (never was a good dancer, we all know that i can't dance to save my life but i want to at least try), can't run to play badminton or volleyball, can't run period. maybe i can but not as fast as i want to.  and i was very fast. 

i want to run away from here. i don't just want to take a break from all this madness, i need it.

i want to run away from you. i'm not a kid anymore - i may look young for my age but let's face it, this is like being in high school, the awkwardness of it all. but you make me want to run from embarrassment. you make me want to run in shame. and i don't even know why.

Monday, February 02, 2009

they have to have gigs in the morning first

on my way home last saturday, i heard a familiar guitar and bass line over at mainstream radio. it was my friend RJ and his band and their single, Kol Center.

in a way, i'm proud of RJ, because this is what he's always wanted. he's worked his butt off just to get to be that famous, even leaving us, his family, friends and his band, for a while, to join that contest where most of you probably remember him for, Pinoy Idol, where he placed third. coincidentally, he is also the third Ram in their family.

i first met him 2 years ago, when he and a few friends started this shindig called After Shift Jam. he organized all the bands from the other call centers and produced a gig where we could all play and the agents could watch after their shifts. makes sense, doesn't it?

after becoming an exercise in futility, it became a venue for me to hang out, meet new people, like my band, Traumaligno, listen to great music (depends on the number of beer bottles, but yes, a venue for great music) and expand my network. i did manage them for a while and got them a few gigs, including one for NU 107 where they got to perform with other unsigned bands and Pupil.

the song itself, Kol Center, became a hit, not just with us, we already like it because we're call center agents, but in NU107, because it spoke to other call center agents out there, who weren't even watching our gigs. everytime RJ would perform the song, he would casually compare it to the other song of the same title by Cambio. there was a certain arrogance sometimes, in the way he would say it and i couldn't blame him. to him, he felt that the song by Cambio didn't reflect our lifestyle the way his song did. they didn't take calls, they didn't have to work as hard to be famous, they didn't have gigs in the morning. but we did.

i love RJ, because we are friends and i respect him for what he has done for us in the call center music industry. i just can't look at him without remembering some other bald male more popular vocalist. hopefully, this would open new doors for bands like 7 Days Off, Traumaligno, A Pack of Wolves and also, encourage other more mainstream bands to do gigs in the daytime.


i have now come to the conclusion that you hate me. okay, so maybe you don't hate me, you just don't like to be in the same breathing space with me. i probably exerted every opportunity available to me to ask you out, for coffee, for beer, breakfast, a cigarette break, anything, so that maybe, if you didn't like me and you just felt you had to be nice because our occupations are connected, that time outside of work can change what you thought you thought about me and maybe appreciate what i do in this company and what i could possibly do for you, as a friend.

why are you so scared to be "unguarded" with me?

i have about a month to make this go away so that i don't make it uncomfortable for you and me. maybe if i found some other activity, aside from writing down my thoughts on the worldwide web and drowning my already submerged body at work, i could forget about you and ever feeling this way for you. i'm not writing down how much i hate you, you idiot, i'm typing down how much i hate myself. thank you for making me feel more worse than i already do.