a shot or two

When I was a kid, I used to fantasize about winning some grocery store-related contest and having the privilege of going on a 1-minuter shopping spree.

It has to be 1 minute, not an hour or two. If it will be, it wouldn’t be realistic anymore, no?

So anyway, I’d dream about where will I place my cart (and always it would be where the chocolates are) and where will I rush next if I had enough chocolates (the meat section). You probably would have understood the chocolate section, but what the heck with meat?

I thought that chocolates are too much for comfort: I would have to get something that rhymed with being practical. Hence, meat.

When I shared this with my friends, I learned that they also want to hoard food first. Well, this isn’t exactly what happened when the closest thing to winning a shopping spree landed in my hands in the form of a P1000 gift certificate. Free~

Yes, Jen and I planned on buying chocolates and drinks and some clothes and a few other luxuries, but only when we got home did I realized that it indeed was the closest thing I had next to winning a shopping spree. And…that I did not buy any chocolate.

We bought plates, microwavable containers (but no microwave), forks, bowls, mugs, toiletries, a pitcher, two shot glasses and two The Bars. No questions please. Hahahaha.

Although we paid for a little beyond what the gift certificate entitled, Jen and I were really satisfied with our purchase. We thought that we weren’t really that shopaholic when it comes to luxury. We realized that even though we did not take a bath while on the supermarket, nobody dragged us out. Also, we learned to give up some of the less important—the liquors have to stay of course—so we would not have to pay much.

from Google images

As I was writing this, I had two shots. Not bad for a long day. Definitely not bad for a cold weather. 

a little LOL won’t hurt

Even though I am not much of a Facebook-er these days, when I get bored, my fingers fly to the said social networking site. After all, it wouldn’t hurt to do some online sightseeing.

One of the posts there made me laugh hard. For someone who shares the free Wi-Fi with a lot of other girls on the second floor lobby, I really had a hard time containing my snigger. When I showed it to my friends, they lost their wits laughing as well.

“A girl in love, no matter how age she is in, says:

18: give me a HANDSOME MAN.
21: give me the BEST MAN.
25: give me a GOOD MAN.
30: give me a MAN.
40: wala pa MAN?
50: diin na MAN?
60: ano ni MAN?
70: Lord, ngaa MAN?
80: wala na gid MAN?
90: ay, kaluoy MAN.
100: ti MAN.”

We need THIS a lot these days. Especially when the weather is cold. Especially when you’re deemed to be crazy. Especially when you’re in your senior year at UP, doing thesis. :))

jack of all trades, master of none

If Robert Frost were alive today, he would look at me with deep sympathy as a high-end bag would look down on a bayong. He would probably shake his head sideways and click his tongue at my utter lack of direction in life.

I am the kind who loves to do a lot of things at the same time and leave them unfinished. I do not seem to find something interesting to do everyday and still be in love with it after a few months—except eating and all that…

I do not know if I am going to land in some “proper” job that I will be proud of. Truth be told, I do not know what will become of me when I graduate. I want to do a lot of things but I do not see myself doing well in any one of them.

Can I read books for a living?
Can I just update my Facebook account every day with witty status and earn from it?
How much will people pay me for cracking corny jokes?

Probably, I will land into some job which I do not love, leap to another which does not satisfy me, skip to another which I am not qualified for and space out not knowing what do I really want to do for a living.

Is this a bad characteristic? I hope to find the answers soon. Meantime, I will draw. No, I will edit photos. Err, I will go fishing at 11:44Pm. Or write randomness. Or send group messages. Or maybe, dye my hair green. :D

(photos taken from www.4.bp.blogspot.com)

school rules and what-have-you

A little lesson on school rules: You might be from Planet Rich or Planet No-Rules, but when you’re in a different school—especially a Catholic or Protestant school—their rules cannot be bent no matter how hard you flirt with the security guard.

A friend of mine invited me over at their school for their Sportsfest. Since we also have an event to attend in the UPV City Campus, I decided to brave the midday heat and go to the city earlier. When I reached the gates of the University of San Agustin, I was surprised to see that they already have dress codes.

See, I was wearing a sleeveless top. Naturally, the guard stopped me. When I texted my friend that I could not be admitted inside, his response was, “Yuga?” Good thing, my friend lent me a bolero. When I came back, the guard said, “Ayos porma mo ah”. I smiled a smile that said, “Nugay da nong ah, daw waay ka lang gid gana magpasulod kanakon kagina pay”.

In we went, and my friend toured me inside their school. There were a lot of people inside: USA students, teachers, visitors, hoodlums like me, and a few more odds and sods. It was like a family affair: there were Ferris wheels and other rides, food stalls and the usual programs which schools prepare for these kinds of celebration. We saw our other classmates and chatted with them. Oh, and Jed Madela was there, but I only got to see the stripes of his shirt because he was still inside the van when we passed by the USA Auditorium. He was to sing for the Agustinians tomorrow, my friends said.

While we were inside the school premises, I suddenly missed wearing my school uniform. It’s been more than three years since I haven’t worn one of those. I missed wearing black shoes, jogging pants, whites and tuck-ins. I missed greeting the nuns, “Good morning Sister!” and the first Friday masses. I missed eating kwek-kwek, tempura, French fries, and their unhealthy street food friends.

I enjoyed that day in USA, when all my high school memories came flooding back to me. I would have stayed longer if time permitted but sadly, I had to go. But not before pissing off the guard, hahaha! I took off my bolero, smiled notoriously at him while waiting to retrieve my ID, and went away. He shook his head sideways, as if this was his first time dealing with a pesky college student. “Sige lang Nong ah, once a year man lang Sportsfest niyo”.

*I did not flirt with the guard, for your information. Hahaha. It was just an example. :P

the would-have-beens

Was it Gandhi who said “A man is but the product of his thoughts. What he thinks, he becomes”? These days, when i am more physically overworked, my mind wanders off to some magical place full of bubbles and clouds. Nothing is tangible. Everything seems distant yet achievable. I must be am cracking up.

I would have wanted to write a review about the film, Tekken, when I realized that it was not worth it at all. That film would not earn much, I am sure.

I would have wanted to write twenty articles for my WordPress account, ready for my fluctuating choice of whether I would declare a day as a holiday or not.

I would have wanted to make matching movies in cinemas a weekly or monthly habit. It’s simply addictive.

I would have wanted to eat breakfast every morning and drink milk do my tongue would not forget how they taste, but I am too lazy to wake up a total of 6 people.

I would have wanted to pay everything off until I’m forty, so I won’t have to worry about bills and payments.

I would have wanted to install speakers, fans and air-conditioning units, put bean bags and mats, and kill some of the staff (negotiable) the library because they piss me off sometimes.

I would have wanted to work already, I am tired of going to school, where there are absentee teachers; countless papers to be processed just so you could get something which was not worth your time and effort; and a No-Id-No-Entry policy which is totally useless, it makes the guards look stupid.

I would have wanted to kick somebody’s ass but maybe he or she is also thinking the same way about me.

I would have wanted to be the passive one for some time; I am just too tired to think.

I would have wanted to attend a few forums and write a few articles for publication but circumstances and imaginary stiff neck did not allow me to look at deadlines in the bulletin boards in the CAS Building.

I would have wanted for another bossy country to colonize the Philippines so we could wake up to the sound and spirit of nationalism, and perhaps get a cultural overhaul. Naks.

(photos taken from www.lapsura.com and www.carelessthoughts.com )

getting in touch with my MVs

from Google Images

“If you are not ready, don’t”.

Above is a reminder of most people’s inability to remember or foresee responsibility, or to borrow Sir Poi’s words: cannot get over the puppy stage. Ready for what? Anything. Taking care of a puppy, having a new girlfriend, or taking a huge step in life (i.e. over a puddle or from one stone slab to the other). But that is not the point of this entry, I just placed it there. Just because.

I really appreciate our Philippine Institutions class. More than learning and hopefully ‘applying’ the essence of nationalism as what Rizal taught, we are learning—or reawakening—our moral values. For me, this is something I am not new to. It is as ‘habitual’ as taking vitamins to make up for nutrients which I psychologically banned from my body. For four years, we were overdosed with moral values (me being a student of a Catholic school run by nuns for 8 years).

When I stepped in this University, I was afraid I would lose these values. (Picture me practicing my ‘Panatang Makabayan and Hiligaynon versions of the Lord’s Prayer, Hail Mary and The Apostle’s Creed at home). I am not joking, I really did. I was afraid because of the many people I know who went in (moral values-laden, conservative and yes, virgin) and went out (the exact opposite of the things I typed enclosed in parentheses) of the University.

That’s why when Sir Poi left us a challenge of practicing ‘courtesy’ for a week, I smiled. I am not bragging but
I am really doing things he pointed out such as: saying Thank You to a lot of people who lent their hands, opening a door for somebody (though I must have given birth to an ingrown or two sometimes, depending on the kind of material the door was made from), and smiling (more like smirking; I don’t know if my daydreaming smiles were included).

I am up to the challenge! This is the one-week vitamins dosage which I will not ban from my daily routine for the rest of my stay here in UP. I am sure the nuns from high school will be proud of me for this, though I am not doing it for them, (insert villainous laugh here). Thanks to PI, I got in touch with them again.

you and i, i and you

They stared.

You walked away.
I cried and beg.
You said you’re sorry.
I silently prayed.
You said it’s your fault.
I said I did something wrong.
We were quiet for a while.
You tried to comfort me.
I said we cannot do anything about that anymore.
You said it’s going to be OK.
I was pushing you away.
You hugged me.
Tears fell down my cheeks.
You said you’re sorry.
I know you did it with her.
You said something happened.
I said nothing.
You said nothing.

One day, there was You and I.

 This happened backwards.

nostalgia

(untitled)

“I told you to wake up!
Why couldn’t you hear me?
Why are you…?”

On and on went mother’s litany for the day. It’s always like that every morning. The first five words stirs you into consciousness, and as she enumerates all the bad things you’ve done since the last time you remembered wearing a jumper, you doze off again, smiling sheepishly into the drop-dead handsome face of some (insert Hollywood actor’s name here) dead ringer.

Minutes later…

“Ria! Don’t you sleep on me!”

She bolted up, sweaty and panting. 3AM. The devil’s hour. She smiled at the irony of it all. She was dead tired from the party last night but she felt that she wanted more. She felt that she needed all the loud noise to erase all the bad thoughts from entering her mind. But she knew she could not, no matter how hard she tried…

“…she came…and when she’s there, I can be myself. With you, I can’t. We both are always trying so hard to please each other’.

The words stung her heart. She just couldn’t believe that Vin would break up with other. Now, she realized that he was right. They were always trying so hard to please each other, like they cannot breathe freely anymore. She was so confident thinking that he’ll never break up with her, that she forgot her limitations. And that he sucked.

Now, she dreamt of her mother scolding her. Oh, how she missed her and her long walks. The brownies and the short poems. She hated the litany, alright, but she loved her mother. But why? Why did she leave so early? Couldn’t she have waited until she graduated? And why did she leave her a mentally retarded brother?

A lot of thoughts like these occupied her mind, ready to be hurled at her mother. But then the woman died. And now she’s lost. Her brother is getting thinner every day. She remembered giving him cat food one day, all the while wondering why the cat was enjoying the jelly beans that were supposed to be for her brother. But, what the heck? Her brother would eat anything he can lay his hands on. She did not bother switching the meals.

As she continued to snuggle in her bed, she wondered how much more misfortune any teen could be. At such a young age, her life was already messed up. Yesterday, she was campus sweetheart and all the boys drooled at the sight of her. Yesterday, she had everything in her hands. Yesterday, she was well-cared for and not obliged to do anything.

But today, all the boys snubbed her. She lost all her friends and her mother. Their money magically disappeared and Vin left her. Many times she cursed Him. What more can He give?

She even thought of ending her life. With all the misery she was experiencing, she hated to continue living. What will she do? Where will she get money? Who’s going to take care of her brother? She remembered that her mother left her a letter before she gave up to Death…

“…take care of your brother. I left a trust fund in time deposit for him. When you are 18, it will be in millions. Use it to take care of him. I’m sorry I did not leave you much because you won’t need the money to find happiness, while your brother needs it so he can feel life. I left him the key…”

Many times she coaxed her brother into giving her the key, but the stupid boy would not budge. She shouted curses at hi and called him names. He did not respond but she saw tears in is eyes. But it just fuelled her anger even more. Tonight, she is going to poison him.

As she closed the door, she saw her brother drinking the lemonade filled with poison. She went back to her room with a heavy heart. Her head was aching and she felt that everything was going topsy-turvy. Then she realized what she had done. As she dragged her feet back in her brother’s room, she saw the food tray on the floor.

She wailed as she saw her brother’s head hanging limply at the edge of the bed. How ungrateful of her. She killed the only person she had left. She hugged him tight but she could not feel a heartbeat any more. She whispered ‘Sorry’ but they floated amidst her cries and disappeared in the night.

That was when she saw it. A red envelope, held by her brother in his right hand. With trembling hands, she read:

“…I’m sorry for being trouble you. Me sad you not invite me to deboo, but I know you will happy. Please stop shouting Ate, my ears hurts. I love you very much. Smile.

With love,
Jason

P.S. I have gift for you in the drawer.

With puffy eyes and a blurry vision, she opened the drawer. Inside was another red envelope. She picked it up, and from the weight of it, she could not be mistaken.

With a note that said, “Happy Birthday!” was a key.

P.S. I wrote this short story when I was in my second year high school. It gave me a few laughs. I did not realize that love stories were my thing before. i posted this unedited so that i will have something to laugh about when i am senile. Hehehe. And that I really sucked at it. Nostalgic is the word.

The effect of having a pen, paper and a boring teacher

Out of boredom, and perhaps of the bored air that’s coming out of the equally bored air conditioning unit that might be bored by the boring voice of our boring teacher, I made a short story.

And it’s not boring, by the way. 

We found ourselves talking about first loves that were you and me. Your eyes still smile at me with the affection that was sixteen years ago, but with the sparkle gone.

The swing that held us creaked with age, but the ‘Rea <3 Louie’ did not grow with time.

You told me about this new guy and asked about my love. My response, surprisingly calmed the both of us.

When the sun left the sky, I realized that my love for you had been long gone, too, even when you kissed my blushing cheek to say goodbye.

Until now I smile, when before you left with that stolen kiss, you whispered, “Thank you, Father.”

It is not as compelling or as tear-jerking as other sad short stories but I think it made up for a class I did not pay much attention to.

“Be one of us.”

Against our will and wish today, we have to be kind.

This is what we promised our current chairperson in a college-based organization which we belong to. She made us promise that we would not be cruel to the freshmen who are to be interviewed today in the covered court of UPV in Miagao.

Like a mother giving her kids the last-minute instructions before she leaves the house, Kyle made us huddle together in a tight circle and crossed the distance to our faces while telling us, “Please, please, mga ate, let us not make the interview hard for the first years”. I remember smiling to myself as she was telling us this.

As we were all excited with the big number of interested girls and a boy, we nodded happily.

And so we went early to the covered court, feeling the anticipation of who and just how many will arrive today (last time, a lot of them were scared and decided against joining the organization—pity). Minute after minute, a small group of two’s and three’s would walk shyly into the room, their eyes focused on the floor and their upper torso bent. We waited until quarter to 4 in the afternoon, until the last freshman arrived.

As we were subtly terrorizing them, question after question and task after task, I saw a bit of myself in one of the freshmen—a shy, awkward girl who was willing to do anything to be accepted in an organization which she can call her family. I remember having to dance in front of upperclassmen I do not even know and giving them a piece of myself which is believe is “interesting”, ”unique” or “entertaining”.

But I did not remember backing out.

I was already halfway. If something opened itself for me, I would accept it. And that, I remembered, was exactly the way I felt when I was their age joining this organization. I pushed myself forward, ate my pride and dignity and became the exact person which our freshmen questors are hoping to become. I even won as the “Most Outstanding Questor”.

I’ll be a good upperclassman to them–until the Final Rites. 