Let's see. (Hands Like Sandpaper, Heart Like a Pressure Cooker)

1.) My brother is hardly home. He shows up to eat, and maybe get money from my parents. Otherwise, he goes off and into friends' houses. He tells us he studies there and we believe him. He spends the night, because he can study there better. When he is a home, he plays a lot of DotA; studying less and video gaming more. We believe him.

2.) My mobile phone is broken. Do not call me, for I will not hear you. It's as if distance has caught up with me, with the voices of friends suddenly muted to whispers and further and further into deafening quiet. With that, I have become a Deaf Siva, Destroyer of all sounds - any audio I make with my mouth still resembles speech, but my ears unable to hear your words. I will send text messages; like the deaf, I will use my eyes and hands instead, to find you.

3.) As the year bumbled in, I turned 25. It was the worst start of the year this year; people used me as an excuse to make merry while starting fights and picking fires. People would much rather fight with me than fight for me, I guess. It is a distant ways away, but I am itching to hold Christmas tinsel and birthday cake again. I am a child like that.

4.) I am usually hurt by things that I never see coming. I am blind like that.

5.) My sister likes to paint. She is also such a good student, she made it to the interview shortlist of PGH. She is now on the fast track to follow my Dad's footsteps. I wanted to walk those footsteps, be a doctor just like my father. I was a child, like that. I wanted to be the doctor while fulfilling the dream to get rich and marry the loveliest girl I know. Now it's Dad's youngest daughter and younger son who may make it as doctors, now that my sister made it to that big deal med school. Not me. I fell in love with words, not windpipes. I told them I didn't want it anymore, and I meant it. They believed me.

6.) At work, people wish I arrive earlier. It's a big deal that I get there early, they say. So since last August I get up from bed at seven or eight in the morning, work at nine and leave for home by six. On Saturdays, I have another day. On a bad day, I wake up late, and still get to work late, but the bottom line is I get home late too. I am hardly at home. It's a price I pay to earn my money. I will not get rich or marry yet with what I earn now, but have I do it; nobody will do it if not me, I tell myself. It's a bigger deal that I give it, really.

7.) My Internet life is thriving. It is uncanny. On Facebook, I have 968 friends. There will be more. Friendster had 728. Multiply had even fewer, 587. All these are people I have met, kissed, hugged, held hands with, sent texts to, got drunk and woke up confused with and all manner of things. The Internet helps me bridge distances with my eyes and hands, to friends I have, and there will be more, I tell myself.

8.) I am thinking of inviting some of you to a party I am throwing on the 7th. It'll follow in the footsteps of the one last year. We had got together everybody from A-Days whose birthday was on January, and celebrated like it was Christmas and my birthday again, where we, now another year into being grown-ups, get to be celebrate and dance so free. I am excited because it's a day when for one night, my home is a playground and I am not alone in the world.

9.) I jog every other day. Or night. Actually. I like night far better. I run through a familiar route around our village, darkened like a dreamy wood. You can hear the howling of neighbor's hounds, and smell the scent of flowers, maybe jasmines or dama de noche or whatever it was, I forget. It is beautiful this time of year, the night. I get my iPod, lace up my shoes and run till my heart is pounding, my breath panting and the rest of my body unable to rise from bed. I am training to be stronger, fitter, and maybe even sexier, that when you see me someday you will be impressed. You'll never see it coming. (But now you might; the Internet is uncanny.)

10.) One of my best friends gave me a bag. It was for Christmas and my birthday. When I opened the wrapper, it first looked like a scarf. I was so happy until I pulled it all the way out. I was still happy, even if I thought I would get what I was really asking for. I didn't see it coming, after all. You have to believe me.

11.) I still train with the Kendo people. I like how my hands grow like sandpaper, and my heart like a pressure cooker. It's strength, I tell myself and I believe it. It's another step closer to being stronger, fitter, sexier. I put on the blue robes and blue pants and take bamboo sword to the dojo, surrounded by other people with blue robes, blue pants and bamboo swords. We fight with one another and fight for one another, striking stomach, wrist, temple of head. I swing my sword till my hands are like sandpaper, my heart like a pressure cooker. I go home breath panting, heart pounding and body unable to move. It is like I have been loved in a very special way. It's uncanny.

12.) Today, I am giving a talk for A-Days. It's a big deal. I never saw it coming. Now, I am trying my best to hold my nerve, the way a teenager prepares for prom, or a man who isn't all that rich asks the prettiest girl to marry him. It feels like the first few hours before first few times I kissed, hugged, held hands, got drunk, woke up confused, and all sorts of other things with people. I studied up hard on the topic; but maybe I am the one who needs to learn. I am a child like that.

13.) My sister and I found a friend on the Internet. She apparently hooked up with another friend, one we both met when we were in high school. We were impressed. He was my classmate, my sister met him when she was a freshman then. She was, is, beautiful, head to toe, although probably not the prettiest girl I know. He was, is, okay. Love is blind like that. I should know.

14.) I am born to love, but I am not a born lover. Believe me please.

15.) I am asked what my plans are beyond my job. I am asked if I will ever fall in love, and I don't tell them of the picture I like to paint in my imagination. Maybe, just maybe, I have already secretly begun the plans to get rich and marry the dearest girl I know. I will hold her close, stare into her beautiful, beautiful eyes, hold her hand and whisper "I have found you, you whose name God carved into the palm of my hands." There will be more, of course, on that day tht I can say I have more, more to give. It's a dream, a dream that requires more than my sandpaper hands, weary eyes and high-blood pressure pounding heart. I cannot do this fight alone. I need her to fight for me too.

16.) It is a weekend, and I am tired. I long for sleep. Do not call me, for I will not hear you. Instead, pray for me please. Please believe me, when I smile and say I'm okay, never mind my weary eyes betray that there are mornings I don't want to go to work because I have nightmares of all my dreams slipping further and further into the quiet, quiet dark night that I never see coming, disappearing like the scent of flowers like jasmines. Or was it lilies, maybe? I forget. I wake breath panting, heart pounding and body unable to rise. Maybe I am in love, after all, in a very special way. Life is uncanny like that.