Lost love

Disclaimer: if you are a saint who never fell in love with an object (a car, phone, or whatever tickles your fancy), I strongly suggest that you stop reading as this blog would be very frivolous for you.

Warning: for those who get high by scoring deals and getting the objects of their desire, this blog is not for the faint-hearted. Seriously, it's not.

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It was love at first sight. When I saw it on the window, I hastily entered the store and stood in front of the pair. Reverently holding the platform wedges on my hands, I informed the staff that I'd like to try it on my size. After putting both shoes on, I walked around the store, feeling the soles and the way the strap hugs my ankle. It was perfect.

Then came the defining moment: the pair costs PX,XXX.00. Of course, this is normal, considering that it is a Charles and Keith pair. But at that time, my car needed new shoes (tires), mouth and ears (speakers and a head unit), a dress (transmission problems), and its birth certificate (registration). That was my most frugal month as I needed all the cash I can get for my car's repairs and needs.

As an impulsive buyer, it was very hard for me to do the adult thing and walk away from the store. After I did so, my mom and boyfriend teased me, saying I should've bought it.

A month or so later, I was rushed to the emergency room. I was sick and pitiful, and Mom took pity on me and said she'll buy the shoes. Free shoes on itself is always welcome, but that C&K pair has been nagging me for quite a while. I couldn't wait to finally own it and wear on a nice date.

Last weekend, we went to SM Southmall to buy the shoes. Unfortunately, I was promptly informed that the shoes were last season's stock (gulp!) and were already pulled out (gasp!). For every woman out there who fell in love with apparels and whatnots, you know how I felt then. I urged my family to try another branch.



We went to Festival Mall on the same day and I half-ran, half-walked to the store. I saw the pair, asked for it on my size, and promptly tried them on. They were the last pair and I happily snagged them.

My dream shoes and I are finally together.

***

Mark and I had a date today. I wore my new shoes for the first time and planned an outfit that would complement my footwear. Mid-afternoon, the ankle straps broke my skin. No problem--this is always the case when breaking in shoes. I whipped out my pretty roll-up shoes and swapped them with my wedges.

After paying for the groceries, Mark brought our stuff to the car while I attended other errands. The shoes were on the pushcart. Blah blah blah, we went home.

That's when disaster struck. After unloading the groceries, the trunk was already empty but my shoes were nowhere to be found. I asked Mark where they were. He responded, "Sa likod." (On the trunk.) I insisted that my shoes were not there. Ever the unbeliever, he shut off the engine and walked to the back, looked at the trunk and went--"Shit. Naiwan ko sa pushcart!" (I left it on the pushcart!) At first I thought he was joking, as he knows how much I wanted the pair. But after thoroughly checking the car, I was forced to admit that the shoes were not there.

It turns out that because my shoes were placed in a black pouch, Mark didn't see them while loading groceries as it was already nighttime. After glaring at him, really, there wasn't anything I could do. My dream pair is gone.

*cue sobs* Of course, they were just shoes. But to me, they were something I wanted for a long time, finally had it, only to lose after a short period of time. Heck, I only wore it once! If that's not disappointing and maddening, then the world is not round. I was heartbroken. Of course, Mark said that he'll buy me a new pair. But given that I already had a hard time finding my first pair, who knows if I'll find another one then?

Maybe the shoes and I are not meant to be together. But in this case, when will you learn to let go? Of course, in case I cannot find another pair, I will concede defeat.

But first, I will raise one hell of a fight.

Back home: A day in the arms of my alma mater

Sometimes even when you're far from where you started, a certain part of you is stuck in the past and you revel in what happened and how it affected your life.  Such is the case when I walked through the paths of De La Salle University -Dasmariñas today with my boyfriend.


Our journey began when we flashed our alumni cards at the guard who mans Gate 2. "Isa lang po ang kailangan," he said, as he waved us inside the campus.  Giddy with excitement, we then parked at a parking lot previously prohibited to students. Alumni na kami, eh. :)

Three years after I graduated, Minxie finally visited the campus. Here she waits along with a twin in the parking lot near the DO's office.

After parking, Mark and I held hands as we walked along the rotunda.  Under the canopy of trees along the main street, we saw students as they go on their routines. Memory after memory surfaced as we talked about our past in the school. We were teasing each other about the D.O.'s, as they were especially strict before about PDAs. As far as I can remember, holding hands was allowed though.

Students

We then went to Mila's Diner, above a canteen we formerly called SBC.  We briefly attended the Broadcast Journalism's Grand Assembly and met up with a couple of friends, Kapatid Ai & Kuya Jay. After staying for 20 minutes or so, Mark and I left to roam around the campus. 

Kuya Jay & Aila. They've been together since forever! :)

We dropped by the Botanical Garden which was being constructed during my stay in the University.  It was the first time we saw it completed. And boy, it sure is beautiful. There are stone benches and arches and stone bridges.  Most of all, it connects the East side of the campus to the West. In other words, students don't have to go through the Lake from the Alumni building to get to the Chapel.

Me: All smiles as I enjoy the beauty of the Botanical Garden

And because this is a trip down memory lane, mind the gap. If you want to know what happened  in this lake, you'll have to ask me personally. *wink*

Of course, what visit to the University will be complete without going through the football field? Mark and I are athletes, and football is one of the sports we both play.  Despite not having any gear and being dressed a wee bit formalish (I was wearing suede boots with thin soles. Obviously, I'm not dressed for football), we kicked a football around along with other players.  They were all younger than us, but it was encouraging and reassuring to know that our kicks still have direction despite not playing for a long time. 

During our short scrimmage in the field, a fellow footballer kicked the ball too wide.  I suddenly found myself running after the ball--hair flying everywhere, my necklace bouncing on my chest, one hand clutching my iPhone, the other hand supporting the car key that's looped on my belt--catching up with the ball, stopping its momentum, and giving it a solid kick.  Twack! As it sailed to Gabe, I felt fulfilled.  For those few seconds, I felt the buzz of adrenaline. I felt alive. 

The football field. Oh football, how I miss you so. 

Of course, we also passed by all the buildings and said hello to our former professors, at least in my case since Mark couldn't drop by his course's faculty building as CEAT is now condemned.  During my stay in the University, CEAT used to be the most beautiful building.  Sayang. We even saw a canteen attendant who used to scold me for drinking too much soda--and she remembered us! We also visited our old "spots" in the University--the kubos, the batibots, the buildings--as we remembered our first few months together. 

Mark and I. :)

Visiting DLSU-D is a gratifying experience. We were able to reminisce and see how beautiful our school has grown. Aside from the physical changes within the University, we also felt the changes that happened within ourselves--how far we both have come after graduating from ULS. 

Most people say that belonging to an elite school does not guarantee success. In our case, yes, it did not guarantee our success. We worked hard to earn our current places and got where we are right now without compromising our values--but really, when you think about it, we learned some of these values in De La Salle. We were prepared emotionally by our courses to confront the "real" world outside the walls of the University. Among these lessons, the most important ones I remember are as follows: do not give up, fight for what is right, if you want something, stop asking for it and do something to get it. And most importantly, let Jesus let in our lives.

I guess this pretty much sums up the day. Animo La Salle!

The Resemblance between a Pitbull and a Cow

This one is from June 26, 2012.  In the loving memory of Boogie and Lance, our two babies who passed away at the same day. 


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Our little monster, Lance

My brother and I walked our big dogs yesterday. Armed with a useless water-drinking tool for dogs, and extra bottles of water for our babies, we started our trek toward the treacherous stray dog-infested realm. Imagine us as we started our journey, my brother leading his overweight fighting line pitbull Lance, with me following the rear with my huge overgrown golden retriever, Boogie.

We started out by passing the back streets to avoid cars and other what-nots. Upon the second street, mongrels started barking at Lance, but were too intimidated to approach him so they bullied Boogie, who just stared back. The other dogs were barking frantically, while Kuya was straining to hold back Lance from butchering them, and Boogie looked on the interesting spectacle.

We made it pass the second street without any major events, aside from Boogie taking a huge dump in the middle of the street and my ears still ringing from the barking.

We were then on our way towards the public market. We again passed by the back to avoid people and cars. Halfway upon our path, the stray dogs started yapping at Lance again. This time a bitch approached too near, and Lance immediately lashed out and bit her face. The female dog scampered away, whimpering. This ignited the anger in the dogs, and one of them followed us on our way, relentlessly barking at Lance, sniffing at Boogie, and walking behind our heels. I was getting agitated because the dog is sure to have rabies, and Kuya told me that it's okay and when we get a little further he's going to let Lance devour the dog.


When we were away from the market, the dog came too near for comfort and Lance bit him on his back. The dog was hurt and ran away as well.

Okay, actually, the dogs were not the biggest threat in our walk. It was the Mother Cow.

The four of us were resting on a nearby road, when Kuya noticed a full grown cow inching toward us with her eyes set on Lance. I stood up and led Boogie to the other side of the street to avoid the cow, but the cow stopped in front of Boogie and gazed at him. To my amazement, my golden retriever just.. Stared back! They were locked in a fierce no blinking contest, when the cow sidestepped nearer to Lance, and Lance suddenly attacked. Kuya instinctively held him back by the leash, but in the quiet of the road we heard the "clack clack" - the sound of Lance's teeth as he snapped at the cow. This went on for several minutes, until Kuya and I saw the whole herd of cows approaching us, and we decided to leave.

Were we invading their privacy? I hope not. But the next time we walk there, I'm bringing along a camera to show Lance, Boogie, and the cow, all in the shades of golden brown, as they stand side by side. Perhaps the cow thought that Lance was her missing child, because he's got the build of a cow. Or perhaps she saw Lance nibbling on the grass and she thought, what kind of a cow is that?

Boogie and I, wrestling on the ground.

Reading and the Words of a Writer

Because I'm so scattered brain that I post bits and pieces of myself in different platforms, I wanted to collate everything (or everything I can find, that is) and place them here.  This is one of those old pieces, a blast from the past from June 28, 2010.  


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Image Credit:  CopyWritingOnline

After reading for decades, some of you might think this is highly unusual, but I only realized this one nugget of knowledge last night.

Last night, I was taking a bath when I realized, how blissful would it be to sink into a tub full of hot water. We had bathtubs in our old apartments in the US and Saudi, but never in the Philippines. I continued playing with the water, when it suddenly hit me: after reading “The Samurai’s Garden” by Gail Tsukiyama, I wanted to purge myself into a steaming tub of water.

See, in Samurai’s Garden, the main character was a sick man. He was urged by their helper to sink himself into a tubful of hot water. The character then described the experience as blissful, and he was able to drift off into a beautiful, uninterrupted sleep.

Then again, it could just be my unconscious side telling me to get some rest. I shrugged off the thought that by reading novels, somehow little parts of the story would tickle my fancy and I would want to try it out for myself. 

Then today, it happened again. I was reading in bed, when I remembered a similar scene in Chelsea Handler’s “Are You There Vodka? It’s me, Chelsea.” I was suddenly craving for McChicken Nuggets, which Chelsea apparently dropped while giving to a homeless woman.

Oh-oh. The flags and signs are there. Am I turning into a person with no identity but what I read in my novels? 

As a writer, I realized the importance of my words and thoughts. I might be writing a simple fiction, but I have no idea how my readers would react to my words. Take for example an old manuscript I wrote back in high school. I was very surprised when an old boyfriend passed it around to other people and said, “Maganda kasi yung story. Pakiramdam ko ako ung bida.” 

True, the pen is mightier than the sword. The wisdom and knowledge imparted by other people will always remain with you forever. But what you do with that wisdom is yours only to answer. Will you exploit it, or nourish it to something greater?

I’ll have to end this pointless blah now, for my current book is waiting for me at the bed. So good day to you all, and I’ll lose myself again in a world of words and comfort. 

P.S.

For those who read my old story "Is it really me?", do you happen to have it? I lost my copy. :( 

All the Wanted Girls

Because I'm so scattered brain that I post bits and pieces of myself in different platforms, I wanted to collate everything (or everything I can find, that is) and place them here.  This is one of those old pieces, a blast from the past from June 8, 2010.  This one is for my girlfriends. Shadz, Cakes, Myka, Tuna, Star, Che, Haze, Rei, Jellie, Joan, and my other loves. 

The Trollettes 

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Here's a clear illusion of what type of girls are "wanted" by men.  Cheers to the clever, witty, and brilliant girls who only few can understand.

"The Girls that are Wanted" - J.H. Gray [1880]

The girls that are wanted are good girls
Good from the heart to the lips
Pure as the lily is white and pure
From its heart to its sweet leaf tips

The girls that are wanted are girls with hearts
They are wanted for mothers and wives
Wanted to cradle in loving arms
The strongest and frailest of lives

The clever, the witty, the brilliant girl
There are few who can understand
But, oh! For the wise, loving home girls
There's a constant, steady demand.

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There's nothing more gratifying than having friends who've known you for the longest time. <3 

My Tunafish and Star. Together, the StarFish. 

Paper, Sticks, and Stones

Because I'm so scattered brain that I post bits and pieces of myself in different platforms, I wanted to collate everything (or everything I can find, that is) and place them here.  This is one of those old pieces, a blast from the past from April 15, 2012.


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I sent my boyfriend an old photo and was trying to think up of a witty caption. I started with, "An elephant and a tiger danced the same song together", and ended up with this poem. I'll apologize in advance for the grammar mishaps and whatnots, for I have to sleep now and brave the Monday rush tomorrow. 


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Let's play my favorite game
You call it love, I call it names. 
So hold my hand and I will touch your nose, 
While you offer a beautiful rose. 


Let's play my favorite game
You call it love, I call it names. 
Let's date a while and then we'll see
What you can really mean to me. 


Let's play my favorite game
You call it love, I call it names. 
Stop yourself--you must not fall--
Because I will refuse to play ball. 


If you fall for me you lose the deal. 
Oh boy, you will never heal. 
You will sob bitter tears
And curse me throughout the years. 


But what's this, my heart is flickering 
The butterflies are dancing, my resolve is weakening. 
Could it be, could this be true?
Am I truly falling for you?


So let us play another game,
I call it love, you call it real. 
And so we shall hold each other to eternity and beyond
Because we have no rules, we're just in love. 

Rawr and Purrbi: Our virtual pets from an old game we used to play

Three Little Words

Because I'm so scattered brain that I post bits and pieces of myself in different platforms, I wanted to collate everything (or everything I can find, that is) and place them here.  This is one of those old pieces, a blast from the past from April 17, 2012.




Saying "I love you" is more than uttering three simple words.
It's your blanket when you're far apart,
It's your pillow when you're not together,
And it's the assurance you have even if you haven't talked in a while.
For when you say "I love you,"
It means you trust your partner,
And in that trust, you respect each other.
You may be in different continents, different time zones, different cultures.
At the end of the day you love each other, and that's what matters.

Three little words to my Munchkins: I love you.

Life Lessons on a Friday

To say that the past few weeks have been crazy would be an understatement.  

Take this week as an example: On Monday, I was a victim of a hit-and-run incident (don't worry, Mark, Minxie, and I are all fine. More about that later).  On Tuesday, I had to stay at home because I'm sore from the accident.  On Wednesday, I was drenched in the rain and was given something to think about.  On Thursday, I contemplated options and tried to figure out where to go.  

And today, a Friday, well.. *sigh* where do I begin? For one, I got up extra early because I have to go somewhere in the afternoon.  Of course, since I woke up early, there was a very heavy downpour of rain, and it took me three hours to make the normally an hour to an hour and half drive because the only exit from Molino is flooded.  I realized that the traffic makes bastards out of every law-abiding citizen, as I experienced going on shoulders, narrow lanes, and what-nots just to inch a wee bit closer to an opening so I can go ahead of the other cars (I was desperate. I woke up really early just to be stuck in traffic. Grrr.)  I was caught twice by traffic enforcers (the first one wasn't my fault: my passengers decided it would be a nice "window of opportunity" to exit Minxie in the middle of Ayala Ave. with a traffic enforcer right in front of us. The second incident is pure corruption: I made a left on a yellow light and the enforcer flagged me down and said that the yellow means stop.  Tired, I argued with him until he finally let me go.)  Confronted a fear and climbed a steel parking and made it out in one piece.  Finally, drove home from Makati in just 30 minutes.

Here I am, challenging life

Today made me realize how much there is left for me to learn. Take for example going on shady roads just to beat the traffic -- I would've stayed on the lane otherwise.  Actually arguing with a traffic enforcer that he made a wrong call and I am not going to give him any money and will he please, BACK OFF, is another first.  And waking up really early to make an appointment (only to be foiled by traffic, rar) is another lesson, as the people I talked to expected me to be there at a particular time.

Needless to say, I'm not about to stop learning.  I'll go on contemplating life and continue exploring.  

But I'm going to sleep first. :)

Toodles now ~ 

Reminiscing about the past: My Bomber

The love we had transcends all planes.  Even though you’re not here right now, I would still stumble upon a new place and a memory of you would surface.  Reminding me of how it used to be.  Playing together, running together.  You were my constant companion.  My very best friend.  My Bebibu. 

I made this right after Bomber passed away, five years ago.  Sorry for the poor grammar, those were my raw thoughts as I try to immortalize my dog. 

I was at the washer’s today, sitting on a lonely bench while waiting for Minxie to finish her bath, when one of the staff stepped on a dog’s tail and the poor pup whimpered.  From where I was sitting, I could not see the poor creature.  But I remembered seeing a dachshund roam the place before and was reminded of my handsome Bomber.  Against all common sense, before I could stop myself, I asked the girl hopefully, “Meron po kayong dachshund?” (Do you have a dachshund?)  To which she replied, “Ah, yung aso?” (Oh, the dog?)  When I confirmed that I was after their pet, she asked her companion to bring out the puppy and handed him over to me.  And for a blissful half hour or so, I cuddled the seven-month-old dachshund on my lap, his wet nose touching my hands, his black fur shedding on my white shirt.  Shadow, his name was, but he reminded me of someone I love so very much.

His name was Bomber, my seven-year-old dachshund.  He was my Shadow, literally.  He followed me everywhere.  To the bathroom, to my bed, to the living room… wherever I go, he followed.  Even the video coverage on my debut showed him shadowing me—from the preparations, to the debut itself, and finally, to the post-party celebration, where he watched and protected me from my drunk guests.

His official bed was on a blanket on the foot of mine, but somehow he was always right next to me whenever I wake up.  When we fought (and oh yes, we did, bitter fights they were), the entire household knew as he would hide under my mom’s bed and would refuse to go out, despite cajoling and promises of treats.  He was a brilliant, clever, and charming dog. 

Bomber during the preparations of my debut.  I was sitting on the chair and he was right beside me. 

Until his veterinarian made a miscalculated judgment, and a fever somehow caused him to die.  He was running a fever and we took him to the vet to be confined, because we believed that she can provide Bomber with better care than we could ever do.  You see, Bomber had a kidney problem, and he needed assistance before he could pee.  Yet despite this knowledge, the vet gave him dextrose without a catheter, without informing us, too. The next morning, she called to tell me that Bomber passed away.  I hurried to the vet’s and saw my dachshund—his eyes open with the pain, his mouth grimaced in agony.  He died alone.

The pain of his death was a shocking blow to me.  I refused to go out of my room for a whole day, not eating anything.   My mom reprimanded me for crying myself silly over a dog, but for me, Bomber was more than a canine—he was my best friend and the living witness of my childhood.  He was one of the constant influences of my life.

After his death, I was very quiet.  Until my friend Jasper invited me to go to the mall. I forgot what we did—what was important was what happened next.  We were walking along Bioresearch and I saw a beautiful dachshund.  He was black, with brown feet and muzzle, and a beautiful white coat on his chest.  He was Bomber reincarnated, a beautiful reminder of my baby.  I stopped in front of the glass, and Jasper was quiet beside me.  The puppy and I were locked in an enchanted gaze.

The storekeeper went out of the store and asked if I wanted to hold the dog.  Now, most of you know that it is not allowed for people to actually touch the animals in Bioresearch.  But that staff took pity and allowed me to hold the small puppy.  When the dog touched his wet nose to my cheek, I felt as if Bomber was talking to me, telling me to be strong.

In that instance, I was able to let go of the pain I felt with Bomber’s demise.  I still miss him (his picture is still displayed on top of my bed, his snapshot my phone’s wallpaper), but I know that he is in a better place, one without pain, and one where he will bound up to me joyfully someday.

Shadow, the dog I met at the washer's

The Reality of Life and Your Importance to the Overall Scope of Things

Somewhere over Luzon

I’m a thousand miles up in the air, reading and listening to music, when my subconscious mind berated me to look out the window.  You can listen to music and read at any given time, it scolded me, but you don’t have the luxury to look down from the heavens anytime you want to.  With that, I closed my book, removed my earphones, and pressed my forehead to the Plexiglas.  Before me was a rolling mass of clouds, a sea of white amidst the blue backdrop of the sky.  It was breathtaking.  Then there was a break in the clouds and my breath caught—no, that scene was even more breathtaking than the gorgeous clouds.

Directly below me is an expanse of land—humongous, judging by its length and width from my unique perch.  In an instant, I realized that a lot of things could be happening on the terrain I’m seeing: people could be coupling, working, visiting their friends, burying their dead, and, in one corner, possibly welcoming a new baby to this world.  Some may be going to school, some cashing in their retirement plans, some may be getting married, while others may be crossing the last t’s and dotting the i’s on their annulment papers. 

The plane's sturdy window

In that instant when I saw that all of life’s milestones could be spread out beneath me, I realized how insignificant our lives are outside the sphere of our loved ones.  Our accomplishments, failures, families, and whatnots is nothing in the scope of things.  We are just tiny organisms, going along with the planet’s turn on its axis.

Given how irrelevant our existence might be, I then vowed to at least make a difference to the people surrounding me.  While the world could care less about my life, at least I could help give meaning to the lives of those I love. 

One step at a time, one tiny spec in the galaxy.  It is your choice if you would rather be swallowed into nothingness, or leave behind a legacy.

The expanse of land that set the wheels in motion for this blog

A letter to my younger self: A reposting

My sister from a parallel universe asked me to pen a missive to my 18-year-old stubborn self.  While I obliged, I shied away from posting it on my own blog as some of the people I mentioned might read it and be offended.  Then I realized, and so what?  These are my thoughts, these are my experiences.  If the aforementioned people get offended, then, that's not really my problem. Still, a shout out: apologies if I somehow step on your toes, but you should've been effing nicer at that time. *wink*

So here you go.  For the first time, a Letter to Lisane.

Hello, little lady.

This is your future self. I need you to listen to me: whatever you’re going through right now, in five years’ time, it won’t matter. You’ll be a strong, successful woman with a wonderful man by your side and a circle of friends that will test your patience and strengthen your character. But before you get there, you need to go through the pain.

First, I’ll tell you about love.

That man you’ll meet in the football field, the one who’ll bandage your foot–love him, but not too much. He will break your heart and destroy your world–but you will be alright.

That other man you’ll meet in the field — with the dreads and kind eyes — don’t push it. He’s a coward who offers you material things instead of the things you really need. When you break up with him for the third time, let go. I’m telling you, he only seems special because you want him to be so.

You’ll meet other boys, date, and explore. Whatever you do, don’t date that guy you’ll go to a hiking trip with. Five years later your guilt of how you treated him will still haunt you.

Second, write. Follow your passion. Play football, disobey your mom, scale the walls, injure your knees. But most importantly, write. Don’t worry about befriending your blockmates — they will never get you. Be a leader, and look for answers. Above all, be ready. You’ll take a shortcut and will fall into a lake. Literally.

You’ll get a job before you graduate, enjoy it. A month later you’ll get a better one. That’s right, fight for your people. Pull the man’s curls and show him that you can’t be pushed around. Take a rest, slow down. You’re already ahead of the rat race, stop running so fast.

I’ll tell you to save, but that would be futile.

Baby girl, the future is hard. You’ll be plagued with problems that range from mundane to gut-wrenching. You’ll witness favoritism, corruption, and lose respect for somebody. But hang in there, things will get better.

Throughout your life you’ll struggle. But I trust you. Five years have passed and I can still look back with no regrets. You’ll do a fine job of growing up. You’ll make mistakes, but will learn from them. And everything that will happen to you has a reason — I know that now.

Be more vocal about your affections.  Tell your parents that you love them, hug your big brother.   Right now you might think that they don't understand, but they do, and they will always be there for you. 

Last, be open to opportunities. You will say yes in a way that you never thought would positively change your life.

The only thing I wish you did then, and what I’m telling you to do now: go buy trolls. Five years later, you’ll wish you didn’t throw them away.

Now chin up, and grab a book.  Your eyesight might and will fail you, but the different worlds you'll visit will create lasting impressions. 

Drawing Lines

There will come a time that you have to establish boundaries. An acquaintance to a friend. A friend to something more. A best friend to a lover. And, when that lover does something of magnitude consequences, the decision to remain true on your ideals--or to forgive.

Where do you draw the line? When emotions are concerned, how do you know when to say "it's too much," or when to say "I know the consequences would be bad, but to hell with it. I want this."

Right now I'm indulging in a solitary lunch, contemplating the recent events of the last few days. I'm sitting on my favorite couch, nursing my favorite meal and smoothie, as the late afternoon's sun bathes me in its purity. I gaze out the window and see the CBD bustling with life. I'm tired, worn, scrubbed raw, and about to keel over with fatigue, but still I breathe. And somehow, I'm happy.

The lines were drawn. The boundaries established. I guess this is how it will be from now on. Like a toddler learning to color for the first time and fighting the urge to color outside the lines, it, too, will be an uphill battle for me. But the decision is made, and somehow, I have to stand by it.

With that, I will put down my phone, and return to my temaki. And marvel how a moment of prayer can immediately transform me.

Give a well-loved book a new home

Hello friends!

It's that time of the year again.  I'm cleaning out my bookshelves to gain valuable shelf space.  You know the drill--second hand books for affordable prices. :)

Below's the list. For additional photos and book synopsis, check out my page at eBay.


Happy shopping!


List:

Chelsea Handler Collection: Buy the three books for only P1,000.00


My Horizontal Life: A Collection of one-night stands by Chelsea Handler
P300, in Very Good Condition
Trade Paperback, with plastic cover

 

Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea by Chelsea Handler
P300, in Excellent Condition
Hardbound, with plastic cover




Chelsea, Chelsea, Bang Bang by Chelsea Handler
P450, in Like New Condition
Hardbound, with plastic cover


The Second Assistant by Clare Naylor and Mimi Hare
P200, in Very Good Condition
Trade Paperback, with plastic cover, pages are a bit yellow, sticker marks on the front




A Swift Pure Cry by Siobhan Dorud
P300, in Like New Condition
Hard bound, with the barcode part a little bit torn. Original price is P615.


Kill Your Darlings by Terence Blacker
P150, in Very Good condition
Trade Paperback, with plastic cover, yellowed pages

Queen of Dragons by Shana Abé
P300, in Excellent Condition
Hardbound


Confessions of a Slacker Mom by Muffy Mead-Ferro
P250, Brand New
Paperback

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
P200, in Like New Condition
Trade paperback, with sticker marks


The Merlin Conspiracy by Diana Wynne Jones
P200, in Excellent Condition
Trade Paperback


Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason by Helen Fielding
P100, in Good Condition
Trade Paperback, with plastic cover, yellowed pages


Typical American by Gish Jen
P100, in Very Good Condition
Trade Paperback, with plastic cover


The Language of Threads by Gail Tsukiyama
P150, in Very Good Condition
Trade Paperback, with plastic cover

Ash by Malinda Lo
P300, Brand New
Hardbound


Four Bare Legs in a Bed by Helen Simpson
P150, in Good Condition
Trade Paperback, with plastic cover, yellowed pages

Whispers of the Past: A Charmed Novel
P50, in Old Condition
Paperback, yellow pages, with nick on spine, no torn pages

Gotham Tragic by Kurt Wenzel
P200, in Very Good Condition
Trade Paperback, with plastic cover

Feathered Serpent: A Novel of the Mexican Conquest by Colin Falconer
P10, Good
Trade paperback, with sticker marks and price on the front


Spanish Lover by Joanna Trollope 50, Good
Trade Paperback, sticker marks, yellowed pages


Just For Kicks by Susan Andersen
P200, in Very Good Condition
Paperback, sticker mark, with plastic cover


Life Mask by Emma Donoghue
P250, in Like New Condition
Trade Paperback, with plastic cover, crisp white pages



The Fine Print:
Meet-ups in Makati during weekdays along Makati Med, RCBC, and Ayala Ave. If you’re unavailable, then I can ship the items. Minimum shipping fee is P120.

An Ode to Drivers and Pedestrians

Those who know me in real life will attest of how much I talk about my car Minx, or Minxie, when she’s being a particular vixen.  Minxie’s the source of my financial woes.  Since getting her less than four months ago, she depleted my savings account to the point that I can no longer buy books on a whim—something I consider as a necessity before clearly became a luxury. She also drinks fuel like alcoholics would down bottle after another of their favorite drink. 

Minxie is also famous for her snobbery—she tends to act up when she doesn’t like the passenger.  So far, it has only happened to one person, who also happens to be my soul sister and we’re constantly together.  So when there are night-outs and outings and she happens to be my passenger, something would always happen to Minx.  A busted wiper, a wiper would suddenly breakoff, alarms wouldn’t go off, gutters would rise from their usual positions, a burning smell would take over the car—you get the idea.  At one point or another, my feisty Minx would display her anger at being subjected to my friend’s presence.  I, however, gave her (the car) a severe talking down and she seemed to cower. Yet I am to invite my friend for a ride as I’m actually scared of what would happen next.

Yes, this post has a point.  Despite my ramblings about how Minx inhales the contents of my wallet for her upgrade, maintenance, and fuel, I love her.  She gives me freedom to go wherever I want, and go there with whomever I want to go with (except my sister from a parallel universe.  I think Minxie is jealous of our friendship, so Minx is trying to boot out my friend from the equation).  She stops me from drinking too much (or from drinking at all) and staying up too late.  Most of all, she made me realize how precious life is, and why I shouldn’t indulge in road rage. 

With that, I would like toshare these nuggets of wisdom for drivers and pedestrians, to make traveling better:

For Drivers:

·  A red light means stop, a yellow means a warning.  The yellow doesn’t mean that you have to floor your pedal to beat the red. It means “Slow down, hotshot.  The light’s about to turn red, and you could get in a vehicular accident if you insist on going fast instead of stopping when the other lane’s given the signal to go.”

·       If you see a signal light blinking in your peripheral vision, it means that the driver is asking politely to join your lane.  Do not take that as an insult toyour masculinity.  Slow down, and let the car pass.  After all, the driver asked politely.

·        Likewise, signal your intent if you want to transfer lanes.  Do not suddenly cut in front of another vehicle.  What if the driver behind you was PMSing and would rather hit your bumper than to let you pass?  It’s called Road Courtesy: as a driver you should be proficient in that language

·        Again, on joining lanes.  If you’re a jeepney or taxi driver who wants to un/load passengers, please go to the right most lane.  Do not stop in the middle of the street amidst the beeping horns of the other vehicles. Or else you will be cursed by the driver you inconvenience to hell and back.  You may not hear the ramblings, ofcourse, but please feel bad that you’re causing your fellow drivers distress

·        Repeat after me: I will not toot my horn for no particular reason.  During bumper to bumper traffic, tooting your horn wouldn’t get you to your destination faster.  You will only annoy yourself,and sooner or later another driver would knock on your window, and punch the living daylights out of you.

·        For the drivers of buses and trucks, please use your side-mirrors.  Given Minxie’s slight build, she’s often bullied by big vehicles.  Please be nice to small cars.  Otherwise I will call my Kuya and Dad, who both drive racing cars.  You may not be into racing, but they’re going to make you wish you were nicer to that small Honda Jazz.

·        Lastly, for motorcycles, when drivers tell you to go ahead, please do not stop, pretend to let the car pass, only to go when the car’s moving.  Trust me, you WILL get hit if you insist on doing this. When a car stops in front of you and the driver waves you to go, please go.  And please have the courtesy to say thank you, or at least wave a hand in gratitude. 

For Pedestrians:

·      The pedestrian lane is made for a reason.  Please use it.

·      Even though the street is devoid of traffic and there’s only one car on the road, please check how fast the car is going first before crossing the road.  Chances are, if the car is going 120 km/h and you decided to walk leisurely in front of it, you will be hit. 

·        Please do not use the road as a meeting place for you and your friends.  Walk a few steps further and you’ll be on a sidewalk. That place is safer.

·        If you do decide to cross the road, please do it accordingly.  Do not pretend that you’re on a date while crossing the street and kiss your partner while cars are honking their horns for the two of you to please get off the road and get a room.

·        Do not take baby steps when crossing the road.  You are interrupting drivers who have somewhere to go.

·        When you suddenly ran on the street, a car screeches in front of you, and the driver yells at you for “WHAT THE FUCK, MAN!” do not be angry.  Understand that you weren’t supposed to ran down the street anyway, and you were a hair’s breath away from being slaughtered.

·        Lastly, please use pedestrian lanes.  I cannot stress this enough.  You will save both yourself and the driver the agony of getting you in the hospital and making sure you’re fine.  How hard is it to look for those white horizontal lines on every street anyway? T_T

That being said, I shall now log off before you pepper me with your insults. While a driver may be a sweet lover, a driver could also be a murderer if he hits another person unintentionally. So please, let’s make the road safe for everybody. J

Toodles~

 P.S.

Again, as blogging is my form of rebellion against tyranny and grammar dogs, I shall post this without editing.  But if my friend the grammar nazi finds mistakes, well.. I'll have to update it to incorporate her changes. ^_^ 

My Minx getting a bath