greetings from a sweetie cow

Happy Birthday, Euge!

It was almost two years ago, when I discovered that he could "figure-ski", that I fell for Eugene. Actually, I didn't fall -- more like I crashed through the fence, tumbled down the hill, and plowed through the snow. Bwahaha. Since that day I professed my undying attraction to him, Eugene has been the object of my... erm, harassment. I hope your birthday was fun, even if I wasn't there to harrass you, Sweetie Pao! Mooo-wah!

P.S. Doesn't he look like such a Sweetie Pao in this picture? :P

on to the next chapter

Since I won't be here to give Carla a proper send-off before she flies off to Canada, let me do it by way of this blog.

Good luck, Carla! Although we got off on a somewhat rocky start, I'm thankful that we were able to move past that and get to know each other better. You're one of the most thoughtful, vibrant people I know. Here's to all the happiness in the next chapter of your life -- you deserve it. Cheers to you, Jay-Ar, and Sophia! c",) Mark G. will surely miss one-half of his Silly Girls! (On a side note, shyeeeet, do you realize Euge made us pose like this in front of all our customers?!?!? Haha, nagpauto naman tayo.)

intramuros: the walled city

For someone who goes to even the lamest tourist spots when abroad, I have never really explored Intramuros. So, when my Toronto colleagues visited us, I finally got the perfect opportunity to do so.

We took a walking tour called If These Walls Could Talk, which I had discovered while blog-hopping. Carlos Celdran, our tour guide, was quite a sight. He took us around the city within walls like the Pied Piper of Intramuros, clad in a barong and playing songs reminiscent of the historic period on a small radio. A messenger bag filled with pictures and whatnots hung on one shoulder, with a speaker wrapped around his waist and a microphone taped to his face. But even more interesting were the stories he recounted and the animated way with which he told them.

The tour started at Fort Santiago, where we heard about a prehistoric Manila and how Spain conquered it; learned about how Jose Rizal was the 'it' guy, even if he was actually just as tall (or rather, as short) as President GMA, and saw the spinal column of Jose Rizal with a bullet lodged in it. Next was a calesa ride around Intramuros, which took us to the 400-year old San Agustin church and convent. Here we looked for turtles in a pond, visited tombs, and learned more about the Spanish, Japanese, & American colonization. Lest you be discouraged about having to hear about Philippine history again, I tell you -- this was not boring at all. Carlos was such an excellent storyteller that a group of priests doing the rounds in Father Blanco's Garden decided to stop and watch him, cheefully waving to us as Carlos announced "The Church was our enemy!" Haha. History lesson done, we then traipsed over to Casa Manila to take a peek into the extravagant lifestyles of the Filipino elite of the era. They threw their poop out on the streets. Nice.

Owen, me, Rose, and Michael at Father Blanco's Garden.


Binondo Church. This wasn't part of the tour, but Sweetie Pao, being a
Chinese mestizo (bwahaha!), kindly offered to tour us around Chinatown.


Busy, busy Chinatown. That's Sweetie Pao, Owen, and Michael
in the middle of the street.

there's no reason to complain

I am exhausted, for all the wrong reasons.

The night bore a sadness that floated heavily in the air. Perhaps it was the rain that patterred on the windows of my car or faint glow of the lamps in the hazy darkness of rain. The road was filled with cars, people on their way to the rest of their lives.

And then a child, not more than six years of age, started tapping on my window, holding out a bunch of sampaguitas. He was drenched, his bare feet covered with mud. "Sige na po, ate, pangkain ko lang po."

I didn't want any sampaguitas, so I just gave him a twenty peso bill I found crumpled up in my purse.

"Salamat ate."

I had never heard such a heartfelt thanks as the one that came from that child... for a twenty-peso bill that would normally have gone to something useless like toll or parking.

Suddenly, I felt like crying.

Here I was on a way to a dinner, where I would indulge gluttonously in a buffet when I was not even hungry. Here I was complaining that my work was messing up my schedule, when this child had to sell sampaguitas in the night to get his next meal. Here I was complaining that I did not get enough sleep, when this child probably did not even have a proper bed to sleep on.

I am angry, because I was lucky and this child was not. My life and my future has been handed to me on a silver platter. Sometimes I complain about not having enough, when so many people could have a better life if only they had even one fourth of what I have been blessed with.

I am angry, because the world is unfair, and I am part of it. Because much has been given to me, and I deserve none of it.

second childhood

"Arcade tayo!"

I scrunched up my nose snobbishly. What would a bunch of twenty-somethings do at Timezone? Besides, why would you pay so much for a game you could play at home on your Playstation? (Or your Family Computer (teehee) or whatever you have at home.)

Being the sophisticate I am, I opted to join my friends just for dinner. However, work kept me late in the office and dinner was over by the time I arrived. I found myself wandering through the psychedelic maze of arcade games and other machines, coolly eyeing Timezone with an uninterested air.

And then I couldn't resist anymore.

The pull of air hockey and foosball was too much. A minute later I was jumping up and down and squealing with delight, all traces of poise gone.

Teehee.

enough

I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You
Colin Hay

I drink good coffee every morning
Comes from a place that's far away
And when I'm done I feel like talking
Without you here there is less to say

I don't want you thinking I'm unhappy
What is closer to the truth
That if I lived till I was a hundred and two
I just don't think I'll ever get over you

I'm no longer moved to drink strong whisky
'Cause I shook the hand of time and I knew
That if I lived till I could no longer climb my stairs
I just don't think I'll ever get over you

Your face it dances and it haunts me
Your laughter's still ringing in my ears
I still find pieces of your presence here
Even after all these years

But I don't want you thinking I don't get asked to dinner
'Cause I'm here to say that I sometimes do
Even though I may soon feel the touch of love
I just don't think I'll ever get over you

If I lived till I was a hundred and two
I just don't think I'll ever get over you

Love. Passion. Obsession. It's all those things that everyone searches for, but few ever find.

I was lucky enough to find you.

Don't stop to pity me. I don't want you back. I miss you, but I don't want you back. What I really miss is who I was when I was with you. Before you, I was living, but I was never alive.

I'm not over you. If that was what living should feel like, I'll never be over you.

But we've had our moment, and that is enough.

virgo-ed*

Luis, our Costa Rican colleague, wanted to experience Filipino culture. When Karen said we were going to Intramuros, I had visions of quietly strolling along the cobble-stoned streets under a starlit sky.

Of course, the fact that Karen organized it should have been a warning sign. The rows of girls whipping out their compacts in the washroom gave me an inkling that it wouldn't be just a casual stroll. But when Karen came out of the washroom in costume change #1 (ready to show her, erm... signature dance moves), all my visions of Intramuros quickly popped into thin air.

And what a Filipino culture Luis got.

luis, our centerpiece! (hehe, rhyming!)

We ended up somewhere in Malate watching a group of flaming gays called The Raging Divas parading around in spandex, wigs and high heels. Que horror! Don't get me wrong -- I have nothing against gays, but they were scary. Luis started running for the washroom every time one of the divas ventured near him.

After feeling a bit ripped-off for a glass of watered-down Sprite, I did get my Mastercard moment eventually. Comic Lab entrance fee: One hundred pesos. A glass of Sprite: 70 pesos. Watching Drei get Virgo-ed* by one of the Raging Divas: Priceless.

Oh, and on a sidenote, Luis told me that I actually do look like a Latina. Pout. I don't want to look like a Latina, I want to look like Angelina Jolie!

* virgo (vur-go) 1. n. the sixth sign of the Zodiac in astrology 2. v. past tense of virgin 3. n. what happened to Drei in Comic Lab.

bakit sm foodcourt model si gary?

Because Gary can pose for loooong periods of time.

See Exhibit A:
Ang dami nang nangyari sa background, hindi pa rin gumagalaw si Gary!
Kahit facial expression hindi nag-iba! Bwahaha.

Teehee.

a promise

No regrets.

a poem for bosing jay

because it's my one and only boss's birthday....
who's also a certified choy-harrasser, by the way



even if he's quite busy with scampi-a
he'll always be portal's bosing jay...

Happy Birthday, Bosing Jay!

Now wasn't that nice? Please give me a promotion. Heehee, kidding! :P

minsan

“Time pushes at our backs like a centrifuge, forcing us outward and away, until it nudges us into oblivion. That, I think, is the only explanation for what happened to my father and me, just as it happened to Taft and Curry, the same way it will happen to the four of us here in Dod, inseparable as we seem. It’s a law of motion, a fact of physics... Like all things in the universe, we are destined from birth to diverge. Time is simply the yardstick of our separation. If we are particles in a sea of distance, exploded from an original whole, then there is a science to our solitude. We are lonely in proportion to our years.”

 -The Rule of Four

So I cracked open The Rule of Four. I was prepared to read a suspense novel, something ala-Dan Brown that would entertain me while the humidity made me too lazy to crawl out of bed. A thriller set in the halls of Princeton, I was fascinated by bits and pieces of Ivy League life and Italian history (courtesy of one of the character’s thesis).

I was totally unprepared, however, for the subplot of the novel -- the story of four friends, of how circumstances and time’s passage will take its toll on their friendship and eventually tear them apart.

Is it really inevitable, losing one’s friends and the people you love?

bring home the cow

Here's a big GOOD LUCK to Ate Sym, who's off in a couple of days to Moab, Utah as part of Team Philippines in the Marlboro Adventure Team. Only girl pa yan ha. *applause, applause*

So... while I'm here trying to conquer Sweetie Pao, there's Sym off conquering the desert, and a few other artista's hearts along the way. Baka naman pagbalik mo, pang-Hollywood na ang blind item mo ha. Heehee.

Don't forget to bring home a cow.

Ang Marlboro Country, merong cowboys, so siguradong may cow... Riiiight. Someone's going to shoot me for being corny now.

Bow.

a dream is a wish your heart makes

The party was bustling, filled with throngs of people milling around. The cold night air and bright lights add a note of festivity to the air, reminding me of the Christmas carnivals my parents used to take me to when I was a child. I cross a bridge hanging over a small pond. The water glistens in the night, reflecting the colorful light bulbs strung all over the garden.

Suddenly, I catch sight of you, standing on one side of the bridge.

I didnt know you were back. I'm stunned, but try not to act surprised. Your head turns as I pass by you, but I look straight ahead and pretend not to notice. Maybe I was just imagining things. Maybe it was just someone who looked like you.

I'm too much of a coward to look back.

***

The party is over. I am alone on the sidewalk, heading towards my car on the far end of the street. I feel the strange sense of emptiness that I always get when I go to parties. I push it out of my thoughts, and instead listen absently to the clack of my heels against the sidewalk.

I hear someone say my name.

I look up, and there you are, standing a few feet away from me.

I freeze. So, it really was you I had seen. I quickly regather my composure, and continue walking.

"Talk to me," you say, following me.

I ignore you. I wasn't ready to talk to you.

You hand me a sheet of paper. There, scribbled in your handwriting, are the words 'I'm sorry.'

I continue walking, but you hand me another sheet of paper. I realize you are holding a sheaf of paper in your hands.

I stop, and slowly turn to face you. We stand there mutely under a street lamp. You hand me note after note, waiting patiently as I read it before handing over the next. I am silent as I read each note, telling me the story of us.

When all the notes are gone, I look up. I realize only then that I had been crying. "Okay," I whisper. "Let's talk."

***

We talk over coffee. We talk about everything, from what happened to us, to what happened when we were apart. We talk the whole night through, making up for all the lost time and all the lost moments we had let pass.

I smile for what seems the first time in ages.

***

I wake up. There, in the darkness, my heart plummets as I realize it was just a dream. My hope crumbles into pieces.

I'm not over you.

the mystery in the attic

There's something in the attic.

I am tapping away at three in the morning, when all of a sudden I hear loud noises coming from our attic. I initially think it's my dad, since he's always fixing something around the house.

Then I realize, it's the middle of the night. It couldn't possibly be my dad.

BLAG! I hear something fall to the floor, followed by some scrambling. And, I tell you, it's not the faint sound that a mouse usually makes -- the noises are really loud.

Either:
a) there's a mumu in the attic
b) robbers are in the attic
c) a humongous rat is in the attic

I go with c. I hope the rat doesn't fall on me while I'm sleeping.

♥ By the way, congrats to Simon and Rina, who, at 4:35am, became the proud parents of Ada Ledesma Villalon. Happy birthday Ada!!! :) ♥

grey sky morning

I stare at you as you sit before me, devouring your dinner with the hilarious speed that was always one of the quirks I loved about you. You catch me staring at you, and you smile. "So, how are things?"

I shrug. "Same old. You?"

"Same old boring me," you reply in that adorably humble way you always had. "I haven't seen you in a long time."

"I know. I'm in self-exile." I laugh, then turn serious. "I've missed you."

"Aaaaw. I'm touched."

It's funny how we're just friends now, how we can sit here and talk about mundane things like nothing ever happened between us. It's strange how our conversation seems so forced and awkward, when you used to be the only person in the world I could bare my soul to. It's scary how easily we let each other go, when we both knew what we had was different.

If soulmates are real, then you were mine. But you've moved on, and so have I. We've grown. Apart.

You're suddenly serious as well. "That day..." you trail off.

You don't have to say anything else for me to understand. That day. How could I not remember?

"That day -- why did you walk away from me?"

I'm caught by surprise. I glance at the other table, not wanting to meet your gaze.

The silence hangs in the air. You're waiting for an answer.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes. It's not that I want to start this again. I know it's over. But there's this nagging voice at the back of my head that keeps asking me what went wrong between us. I guess... I just want to understand why, so I won't make the same mistake again."

I swish my coffee cup around, watching as the dregs of coffee slowly settle on the bottom of the cup. Finally, I dare to look up and meet your gaze.

"I was so in love with you it scared me."

The doors of the restaurant swing open before you can react. She walks in and waves at us.

She doesn't know.

She thinks we're just friends.

But we are friends. That's all we are now. That's all we can ever be.

I gaze at her and see how much better she is than me in so many ways. "She's wonderful," I say, setting my cup on the table and gathering my things. "You two are very lucky to have each other. Have a safe flight back, okay?"

You reach out for my hand. My fingers entwine with yours -- but our hands no longer seem to fit perfectly anymore, the way it used to. We let go quickly, because we're nothing more than friends now.

So this is what good-bye feels like.

But it's not so bad
You're only the best I ever had
I don't want you back
You're just the best I ever had
- Best I Ever Had (Grey Sky Morning)
Vertical Horizon