I'm blogging here because, quite frankly, I don't think anybody reads this blog anymore. Which is nice. And that's good.

Updates on me for the past few days:

1.) We have a new dog! Our brown Doberman mini-pinsch, Frappy (short for Frappuccino) was collected by our Tita Lou. Something to do with Mom planning to breed dogs for business. Whatever. In the meantime, we have a hybrid shih tzu / terrier (I'm not sure exactly which breed) of around 2 months or so. And it's a boy. And we call hm Dimitri. And he's really cute. And he's been with us for three days now, including today.

Last night, I let him out of the box. He followed me ever so obediently. I missed that kind of dog; when I sit, he waits. When I walk, he gets up and follows. He has really stubby short legs, and has trouble climbing up and down steps, but still will, just so he can follow me. And when we're not doing anything, it didn't try to help or call attention or bounce up and down like Odie out of Garfield. He just slumped on the floor. And tried his best to make like Eeyore and look cute. And it was very endearing because it was cute.

I want to show him off to all of you, whoever still reads this. I am making it a project to take digital photos of him. If you ever spot me with my camera, remind me about the dog.

2.) I'm sick. It's not the life-threatening sick. But it feels like it. I have a sore throat, and speaking to others is a chore. I can't hug people close or kiss them on the cheek when I greet them anymore, even if it's inherent in me to try. Especially since I'm not affectionate to ALL people, but only a select few I love. And not all who I love, I am affectionate to. It's a challenge to try and talk normally. Or to whip out my handkerchief out when I sneeze fast enough.

I still blame the little sleep over the last weekend. I hate this. I used to have a tough constitution, of being able to survive with little to no sleep, be it jet lag or too much food or too much work. Now, I guess as November brings in colder nights, it brings lots of colder, well, colds. Darn. I hate this pattern of mine getting sick near Christmas.

Still, a few sniffles, sneezes and coughs never bothered me too much. It's just that today was Thursday. And there's always a lot of work for my TTH these days. And I don't have the car today, so I'm taking the jeep home. That does not help my healthcare situaion.

3.) Speaking of getting sick, Dad's worried about me again. It's quite sweet, actually. But truth be told, it's a pain being ordered to take medicines that you hate taking when you know they're not the real best cure. I know all I need is lots and lots of sleep, not anti-asthma medication. He thinks the coughing is from blocked airways, when I know it's all just a side-symptom of this influenza. And I've the nerve to say this about a licenced doctor because he's hardly ever done 'tests' to diagnose me. And he hardly does, partly because he's confident he knows his children.

Oh well.

4.) I just finished Stephen Chbosky's "The Perks of Being a Wallflower." I love it to bits. I credit Mindy for introducing me to it. I'm ever so happy I bought this out of my own cash.

Right now, I think I'm forming a small library of sorts with my books. Ever since the Heights Workshop where they gifted us three books, I've been buying lots of stuff. Poetry anythologies, novels, even photocopied versions of classics, I've got.

I want to throw out all the Math and Biology books and the dull, annoying textbooks and stuff I never once used out of my room's bookshelf. I will replace Santrock with Hornby, Quimpo with Kundera, and "Fundamental Calculus" with "The Perks of Being a Wallflower." It will be full of the poems and stories I have learned to love. When right now, those books are in a pile on the floor, and Lola's old Math books are in a shelf, I wish to switch that.

Hell, I'll get to it right now, as soon as I get home.

5.) I went to watch Harry Potter yesterday. It was a Wednesday, and like all Wednesdays, I got out of the house again. Which is jolly good, for its own sake.

I realize now, however, that I so badly want to see some people. Wednesday yesterday wasn't the same. It wasn't a lot of fun; I felt like I wasn't part of it, you know? Like I was really, just looking into a gatering of friends I wasn't exactly a full-fledged member of.

I wonder if that's how some people once felt, when I was with them, and with other people.

Now that thought just makes me sad.

6.) I learned more from my lectures these past few days than ever.

I used to have a strange quirk. I'd go to school real early, and park at the parking lot fronting the football field. I'd watch the sun rise and the people pass by on te walkway beside the field. I'd notice what they'd be wearing to the first class of the day. When I'd had my fill, I'd cross Katipunan and I'd buy breakfast at Jollibee. I'd always get the hot chocolate as my drink, and if I were lucky, they'd give me a copy of the newspaper for free. I'd eat slowly, deliberately.

Then, when I'd have had my fill, but still enough hot chocolate with me, I'd write poems. I'd write and write and write on my notebooks. I'd be happy writing. I'd make about 5 drafts of works on a good day, and 2 or 3 on a not-so-good day. Then I'd get up, stuff my new creations in my bag, and I'd revise them one evening. I'd revise them when I type them in the computer. And I'd be proud that my 'ritual' and the sixty-something pesos for breakfast amounted to something.

I realize that there is value in the rituals we keep. They frame our thoughts and our feelings. They show us what how serious we are about what we'll do. They show us what really is imporant, because we do the trivial things first. They help us keep rites; they are good habits.

I want to go to Jollibee Katipunan tomorrow morning. I will go there. Because I will write.

Anybody who comes with me will be welcome. :)

I hate you and love you all at the same time now, Mindy.
For now, you have shared with me and opened my eyes to a book that is quickly kicking so much ass, it's replacing each of all my favorites!



----excerpt excerpt exceprt----------

Inside the card, I told Sam that the present I gave her was given to me by my Aunt Helen. It was an old 45 record that had the Beatles' song "Something." I used to listen to it all the time when I was little and thinking about grown-up things. I would go to my bedroom window and stare at my reflection in the glass and the trees behind it and just listen to the song for hours. I decided then that when I met someone I thought as beautiful as the song, I should give it to that person. And I didn't mean beautiful on the outside. I meant beautiful in all ways. So I was giving it to Sam.

Sam looked at me soft. And she hugged me. And I closed my eyes because I wanted to know nothing but her arms. And she kissed my cheek and whispered so nobody could hear.

"I love you."

I know that she meant it in a friend way, but I didn't care because it was the third time since my Aunt Helen died that I heard it from anyone. The other two times were from my mom.

After that, I couldn't believe that Sam actually got me a present, because I honestly thought that the "I love you" was it. But she did get me a present. And for the first time, something nice like that made me smile and not cry. I guess Sam and Patrick went to the same thrift store because their gifts were together. She tok me to her room and stood me in front of her dresser, which was coveredin a pillowcase with pretty colors. She lifted off the pillowcase, and there I was, standing in my old suit, looking at an old typewriter with a fresh ribbon. Inside the typewriter was a piece of white paper.

On that piece of white paper, Sam wrote, "Write about me sometime." And I typed something back to her, standing right there in her bedroom. I just typed.

"I will."

And I felt good that those were the first two words that I ever typed on my new old typewriter that Sam gave me. We just sat there quiet for a moment, and she smiled. And I moved to the typewriter again, and I wrote something.

"I love you, too."

And Sam looked at the paper, and she looked at me.

"Charlie...have you ever kissed a girl?"

I shook my head no. It was so quiet.

"Not even when you were little?"

I shook my head no again. And she looked very sad.

She told me about the first time she was kissed. She told me that it was with one of her dad's friends. She was seven. And she told nobody about it except Mary Elizabeth and then Patrick a year ago. And she started to cry. And she said something that I won't forget. Ever.

"I know that you know that I like Craig. And I know that I told you not to think of me that way. And I know that we can't be together like that. But I want to forget all those things for a minute. Okay?"

"Okay."

"I want to make sure that the first person you kiss loves you. Okay?"

"Okay." She was crying even harder now. And I was, too, because when I hear something like that I just can't help it.

"I just want to make sure of that. Okay?"

"Okay."

And she kissed me. It was the kind of kiss that I could never tell my friends about out loud. It was the kind of kiss that made me know that I was never so happy in my whole life.


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You were right: this book is fucking brilliant. And I am so grateful.

current music: Get Down Saturday Night - Oliver Cheatham

The Great Miss Manalo Post!

Intro: Every summer at LnK, we write out a description of our 'ideal' mates, and we have dubbed them as our "Miss Manalo" (for guys) or "Mister Manalo" (for girls and those-who-would-be-girls). And every summer, I notice I tended to change my preferences. Thing is, I miss the LnK'ers sick (I won't see them until Christa's party or later), and I decided to post this on our much-unused "online LnK logbook". And so here we have it: my Miss Manalo.

WANTED: ISANG 'MISS MANALO' PARA KAY RAPH

Single, Catholic, Filipino female, 5'3" or taller, aged 16 - 24 (or, simply put, not too old) who can deal with the eccentricities of a soon-to-be Creative Writing graduate of the Ateneo de Manila, who, while not the most handsome man in the world, is a pretty decent guy, with much potential and a lot to offer. No prior job experience of having boyfriends required.

Must have great sense of humor and very beautiful voice. Must love vegetarian food (or should be at least willing to give it a shot), good literature, good music, good films, dogs and Raph's family. Interests should ideally include (but not strictly limited to) music, poetry, theater, coffee, Third World debt relief, soccer and watching sunsets. Must be good with children, or at least, will be good with children someday. Abillity to sing and/or dance and/or act also a major plus, but not wholly necessary.

Applicant must be open to spontaneous acts of random sweetness and/or thoughtfulness for no apparent reason, even when pissed off or experiencing a hangover. Insensitive and un-appreciative behavior as well as any cynicism observed from applicants will be noted for future reference.

Being good with people, involvement in performing arts (theater, music, etc) or experience in Days with the Lord are a plus. All willing applicants must be able to appreciate dry, sarcastic comedy, and would be able to keep up when conversations border on the intellectual. Should be willing and open to share personal beliefs, but not too pushy advocating them. Abillity to be discuss any topic from God, to sex, to the weather, to food, to sports, to politics, to family life, to how-their-day-was would be ideal.

Illiterates, non-readers, smokers, sex workers and drug addicts need not apply. All applicants who do not meet the height of 5'3", or are older than Raph by 10 years or more must request a meeting with Raph for prior approval. All applicants with overbearing (interfering) parents must also seek prior approval. No outward appearances of Chinese-Filipino descent necessary; that's for the other Doval-Santos son.

Wide hips and morena skin are also percieved advantages, along with looking nice in glasses.

Applicants must have read, or at least heard of the required readings: "The Little Prince," "The Alchemist," "The Prophet", the works of Gaiman, Hornby, Neruda, Asimov, or any 3 distinguished poets and/or fictionists. Familiarity with authors, films and musicians that Raph is not familiar with, and vice versa is a percieved advantage.

All potentials must be understanding if dates do not exceed in expense of PhP 350 (as Raph doesn't have a high-paying job yet), or if gifts are of the variety that cannot be found in any store. Participation in these events is a must; coming up with ideas for future plans would be ideal. Must like Raph's cooking, as he is willing to do this a lot. Street-smarts are a must (experience commuting, how to fend of pick-up artists, etc).

Raph has indicated to us that he is willing to change in any which way that suits chosen applicant's needs (ie: learning how to play guitar, taking on a new fashion sense, etc), provided that it does not violate his morals and principles (ie: promiscuity, drug abuse, shoplifting, bands like Cueshe, etc). Applicant should be able to bring out best in Raph; examples vary, but commonly found in improved overall well-being.

Experience as fashion model not necessary; it's not a beauty pageant anyway. It would, however help applicant if she looked pretty when she smiles.

Because it is Raph's hope he'll be the one who'll make her do a lot of that. ü

current music: Hiling - Paramita


I can't help but feel like it's me. That it's my fault. Because I'm like that, you know.

Honestly, I never, NEVER agreed to what they said. I did not believe a word they said.

Because the person they took the pains to say would hurt me one day was not the person I had come to know all this time, not the one I had learned to trust. And it wasn't fair for them to decide who it was I would pick to come near me, the way I picked them, once.

Why lie about a thing like that?

And believe me, as damaged as ties with them are, I knew fighting with them, not speaking to them was worth it. Because I would never stand to hear some shit tossed about people dear to me.

That's what happened. You can take that to heaven.

And yes. Nothing's changed how I see you. Nothing has, nothing will.

Basta ikaw.

PS:

and yes. I did like you. and it was at a time I was after somebody else. thus, the secret, and it was not serious anyway. so I never told anybody, save for a small handful of people.

I guess I picked the wrong people to trust. And since they knew that, they went off and told me so, hoping I'd not go through with it.

But know, I never regret trusting you.


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