Bottomless Pit

It's New Year's Eve and all I want to do is sleep. I'm in the hotel room right now, in snow-covered vermont. If I were looking at the view from my window properly, I would undoubetdly call the image before me beautiful. But I'm not looking at it with the eyes I've grown accustomed to. I'm looking at it with tired, cynical eyes, eyes borrowed from someone else, someone I hope I never become, but my mind is pretending to be right now.

My dad took off a few minutes ago, to eat dinner, and to chat with the other hotel guests.

I left everything I know, my family, my friends, everything I was, for what?

Tomorrow, or maybe a few hours from now, I'm sure I will remember, and I will regret the words that have splashed across this page. But at this moment, the sentiment is real. I'm not sure how it can be possible, but I am so tired. Of living like only I can. Of being who Iam. Of this. Of me.

It's like a daily struggle against an enemy I can't see, or hear, or even feel. Sometimes I have no idea where the battle is being waged, who's on what side, whether I'm winning or not. But somehow it's all been okay. But now, it feels like I don't even know what the battle is for. If it's worth it. If I'm worth it.

And uttering these words, I can't help feeling that the battle has already been lost. But it hasn't. Because losing is a relief, a sort of pleasure, I can't even afford.

I'm flying up to Vermont tomorrow and I'll be there for 11 days. Then I come back here.

It's a bit strange how I don't feel displaced here. As if everything I'm doing right now is part of a long lost routine that isn't so hard to remember. It feels like I've done this before, that I've been here before.

A funny thing hapenned to me earlier, while I was in the cellphone shop. A guy walked in, looking to buy a phone. I was sitting on one of the chairs, waiting for mine to be activated. And out of nowhere, the guy hands me a sealed envelope, smiling. Not to sound arrogant or whatever, but I thought it was his way of hitting on me, since I am in the States, after all. And the guy was not too bad looking either, tall, maybe early twenties.

I openned the envelope when I left, and to my utter and complete amazement, it was an invitation to his, ahem, "celebration of life as a Christian". It also called upon those "seeking shelter from the turbulence of life" to come so that they could "share in the love of this community of brothers".

I laughed all the way home. That'll teach me never to be presumptious again.

Oh yeah, and Despedida Pictures (Thanks Vic).

Okay, I just got back from Virginia. Yes, folks, Virginia. Five fucking hours each way, for a total of ten hours driving time. We just went there to have lunch with my dad's sister (cornish hen and squash) and then, if you can believe this, we looked at model homes. We went something like three states down just to look at model homes we will probably never think of buying in this lifetime.

Someone help me understand.

But enough about that, and let's move on to what's going on in my head.

You know what's funny? I just affirmed something I always felt ever since I was in high school. I'm not an easy person to miss. And I'm not a hard person to live without. People get along fine, with or without me. I may be wanted, but I'm never "needed", at least not in a personal, individual way. I don't think I know anyone-- and this includes the people I left behind -- who has made me irreplaceable in their lives. I'm sure I'm loved and all that, but I'm also pretty sure that worlds didn't crumble when I left.

And you know what's funnier? I'm glad. Because then I know I made the right choices after all. I know I made the right friends. I know that who I think I am is real.

I'm glad, but it's also sad in a way, that year after year, and person after person ends up like this. That yes, I may have made some kind of impact in the space they occupy in this world, but that's all it's going to be for them. As I have said countless times before, I will be remembered as the person who has made them think about why their with the one their with, or why they are where they are, or why they are who they are. But that will always be it.

This is partly why I know I have to always hold back. Because if I don't, I know that in the long run, they'll hate me. And the same weirdness that was so appealing in the beginning, will be the same weirdness they will detest in the end.

Because being different and weird is a novelty. And novelty items are only fun when they are still a novelty. They lose their charm when familiarity settles in.

I know, I've seen it all before. Over and over.

But you know what? It's okay. I plod on, and do what I always do. As always.

I am such a geek. I'm having a helluva hard time relinquishing the DSL connection to the rightful owner, because the internet is my sole link to everything I'm comfortable with. I still haven't unpacked my laptop, so the pictures will have to wait.

I slept most of the day, but I'm going to try to catch some sleep again, in an attempt to reconfigure my body clock.

Oh yeah, I already changed the time on my blog to the time here.

To all my friends here in the East Coast, you can call me now. I'll be here until the 31st, then I fly up to Vermont. I'll be there until the 10th, then I'm back here again. I'll see you guys soon.

It's 9:27 am, NJ time. I got here about an hour and a half earlier, and had a humongous breakfast which I couldn't finish. Now I am just dead tired. But ofcourse, being the fanatic blogger that I am, I know I wouldn't be able to sleep until I did this.

The scene at the airport was classic me. Dry-eyed as I walked out of the car, dry-eyed as I kissed my family goodbye, dry-eyed as I hugged everyone tight. And then I called up Trixie and then I just couldn't help it. Tears started trickling down my face. Trix, I swear, I was fine before then. Only you.

The flight to LA, which was our port of entry, was bumpy and not at all good. Felt like a rollercoaster ride, complete with screaming grannies and bawling little babies. Four hours at LAX, and then we boarded the connecting flight to Newark, which was uneventful.

And finally, I find myself here, in my tita's basement, typing. My fingers are really cold, but it isn't the frozen hell everyone was warning me about. It's okay, and it actually feels pretty good.

I will upload some pictures once I get my myself together. I have some despedida pictures in my computer already, plus some first pictures of me outside my tita's house looking like a fur-wrapped mummy, and a precious picture of me with JR smoking oustide the restaurant we had breakfast in. (Sidenote: I think they used four eggs in my omelette alone for that breakfast.)

And people, check your emails.

So it's after Christmas. My despedida later, then I leave tomorrow.

The 24th was fun as far as reunions/get-togethers go, but coming from a tight family, that's normal and nothing spectacular. The 25th was spent with my dad's relatives minus my mom and my dad because of a five (six?) year rift they have going on.

The night started out pretty slow but then it got better, especially when my 50-year old uncle started talking to me. Good conversation will save a bad night for me everytime.

Someone dropped by my house when I got home, and I think we got on the topic of friends, and how many friends one really has, and what a friend really is.

To all my friends, I love you.

God, I did it. I actually made all of this happen, and tomorrow I'm hopping on a plane to try and make a dream come true.

Christmas Pictures:


Family Picture


Me, my brother Niko, and my cousins Ian and Anton


Me, my mom, and my sister Lia


Me and Anton


My sister Kyra and our cousin Ina

And thanks for the shirt, the necklace, the corduroy bag, and the incense holder.

Anyway, couldn't stay away. Techinically, this won't be blogging because I'm not really writing. I just want you to read this, which I shamelessly stole from another blog.

Change of plans. Suddenly, I find myself confronted with the fact that I'll be in New Jersey most of the time, at least for the coming year. Four days to go.

My apologies to the people who read my blog. I will be taking a break from blogging atleast until Christmas. Too many things to be done and all that.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, PEOPLE!

BTW, thanks for the insane amount of cookies.

Oh yeah, this just in. My car has been sold. My car, the thing for which this blog is named. They're getting it today. No more car. Fuck. I love that car.

Won't be blogging the whole weekend, so I'm going to leave you with excerpts from my journal, half-formed thoughts that have been floating in my head...

If I give you everything in me that makes you happy, will you notice that I am gone?

____________

It seems I confuse others, yet I don't confuse myself. Because they see me through the expectations others have set, through normalcy, and the dictated path, through the layers of conventions that people use to cover themselves...

I have no use for social rules or moral obligations that serve me no purpose, that do not ring true with who I am, that do not even give me pleasure at the least. And so I walk around, flaunting my nakedness, and this confuses them.

If you understand this about me, I will confuse you so much less.

____________

I think of truth as clay. It's always real, always the same substance, but it can take on new shapes, new colors. Pliable, soft, it's own self unchanging. It can be made beautiful or ugly, useful or merely decorative, and when it hardens, as so many people have made it harden, it becomes strict, unbending, and brittle... And then it can be vulnerable to breaking.

____________

I feel like I am at the verge of coming undone.

I've been here before. Not always, not frequently, but on occasion. It's a rush to see the yesterday of your own fall, and know that the fall will never happen. I can feed on this adrenalin, this blood rush.

It cuts my mind like the sharp end of a knife and I can feel it in the way I write.

I always have to be on this tightrope, walking the fine line to the end, with the call of reality on either side.

I can feed on this turbulence, this passion, this violent misery. I can step as close to it as humanly possible, as near as I dare. I can feel it with my hands. I can smell its scent upon me. I can taste it with my tongue.

And then when I feel like I'm ready to burst, I can step back. And step away.

Because this isn't the path for me. And you are not the one.

"We can dance on through the pain." -- Jonathan Larson

Oh boy. I'm going to see him in New York. With his beautiful children. In the space of the life he leads without me.

Rambling and being mostly incoherent...

The closest thing to home for me is not a place. It's the comfort of a bottle of beer with someone you trust. It's the peculiar way my name is said, like it came from the back of someone's mind, and then spooned out of the tip of someone's tongue. It's laughing at nothing and everything, ant talking about all else in between. It's the comforter in that airconditioned room, that you're sharing with someone else. It's knowing that someone sees you and knows you and accepts you just as you are. It's putting thought to paper and losing myself in someone else's thoughts. It's that touch that says everything's going to be okay.

How do you leave your sanctuary behind? How do you leave journals and diaries and everything you've ever poured your soul into?How do you leave the space from which you've always lived, the space from which your life unravelled, the space from which you've become who you are? And if you can't leave it, how do you take that with you?

Obviously, I've been trying to sort out everything I think I'll need. I've never been a heavy packer, and I always just used to throw stuff together in a bag and then head out. Always just bare essentials. But that's also because I always knew I was coming back.

And I don't know that anymore.

Sometimes I wish I could sleep and then dream my life over and over so I won't forget. I wish I could just ask someone to read the story of my life with me, but there are only three people in this world I would ever ask, and two of them aren't in Manila. And the other one read much of it already.


Which ridiculously attractive model are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

It's done. I did it. I told him how I feel, and I got through it in one piece.

She sits on her high stool
Taunting and naïve
The mysterious angel
of many men's dreams

Sometimes she’s almost evil
But she’s so easy to forgive
Sometimes she’s all kindness
You’re so easily deceived

And sometimes she’s a woman
And she won’t be denied
Until you wake up to her crying
Because she only is a child.

She will confuse you
And you will crave her more and more
She will abuse you
For the angel’s but a whore

She will take you high above
And you won’t even hear a sound
When she pushes you from the heavens
And you come crashing down

You know she will destroy you
And you have to stop the fall
But the angel comes before you
And you can’t resist the call

She never seems to make up her mind.
She will suck you in.
Her womb is all chaos.
And you will swim and flounder.

And you might never let her go.

____________

God, only 10 more days to go. So many things to say to people, so many things to clear up, so many things I want them to understand... but I'm not sure I'm using the right words.

Surprise, surprise. My family changed plans on me last minute. Instead of Baguio, they decided to go to Subic. Good thing I noticed everyone's swimming gear while throwing my stuff in my bag and was awake enough to ask my sister where we were really going or else I might have packed my jackets instead of my swimsuits.

But it was a good weekend. My dad probably had to shell out a lot of money for all of us, but I think it was money well spent. We went swimming with whales (which was really awesome), ate a lot, shopped a lot, did the whole nature thing, rode horses, and bought two boxes of Mrs. Fields' cookies. Plus I got a text from Noel which was exactly the thing for my bruised ego. And I talked to Rij, who always has a good perspective on things.

More important though, it gave me time to detach from my reality and just retreat into myself. For the first time in months, I was on a REAL writing frenzy. I'm not talking about the kind of writing frenzy that I get paid for. I wasn't typing up articles or anything useful like that. This wasn't because of deadlines or whatever. This was just for me, to keep me sane.

This is the kind of writing that makes all the sacrifices worth it. This is the kind of writing I can't live without. This is the kind of writing that saves me when I feel like I'm drowning in everything that's going on around me.

Imagine being pulled in by an undertow. Your lungs are going to burst, and you're swimming frantically to the surface, fighting the current. Right at that moment when you can't take it anymore, you feel your head break the water's skin while you're body is being jostled by the waves. And you suck in all the air that you can, until it sinks in that you're breathing again. But you're still a bit confused because of the chaos of sea and wind around you.

And then imagine suddenly feeling like you're rising from the wetness of the water. You're up in the air, and you're flying. And it doesn't matter what's hapenning down below, all that matters is the calmness, the peace, the utter bliss of simply being who you are. Free.

I was finally able to put the anarchy in my mind on paper so I could wade through everything I've done these last couple of weeks -- the good, the bad, and the bittersweet.

I thought about the choices I've made recently, and I've come to conclude that I did what I had to do. No regrets.

Because I finally accepted that there was/is no alternate path to take. This is who I am. This is my life. These are the things I am willing and not willing to do. Taking another road, or going against my own convictions, would necessitate being another kind of me -- a stranger. And I can't do that. I won't do that.

After this epiphany of sorts, it felt like the universe breathed a sigh of relief. The world fell into place again. I've known it all along, but I just needed for it to be shoved in my face. And now I can move on. I know I am where I have to be.

So I'm back. I've recharged my batteries. My head is clear. I'm on the route I've chosen for myself. And I'm ready, yet again, to take whatever life may want to throw my way.

One last thing. As White People by Allan Gurganus is with Camoi, I know I have little hope of ever getting it back. So. To the kind-hearted, generous, adorable, beautiful/handsome people who for some reason would like to give me a gift during this season of sharing and giving and loving, a copy of aforementioned book would be GREATLY appreciated...

I will not be able to blog until Sunday evening, so must blog now.

One of the more refreshing, nostalgia-free, fun dinners I've had in a while. How could it be otherwise, with our cast of characters? Commercial model Marco (of Bianca's Coke and Smart ad fame) and Ma'am Anina, baseball hearthrob RT and "Theory of Justice" Maita, Congressman Chito and Ms. Yossel Rakover, and ofcourse myself and my so-called "asawa". We just couldn't stop laughing.

Menage a trois pictures, twirling chest hair, shocking Dencio's patrons with weird dances, my friends' rolling around the entrance like a scene from a bad, bad romance-porn movie, vocabulary words, Boracay memories and future Boracay plans, lamenting the fate of the employed (especially those with bosses from hell) and lots and lots of beer. Just the right combination to make myself not think of all the things I've been thinking about nowadays.

I repeat. This is why I love my friends. Fucking insane people. You can't help but join in all the fun. It's just not possible not to. I mean B-E-A-M means smile, right folks?

Ack. I'm leaving for Baguio (I think) tomorrow, and I haven't even packed yet. I guess I should do that now. I'll see you all in Kathy's party/my pseudo-despedida (which is after we stuff ourselves with Kathy's fantastic food -- beer is on me) on the 23rd.

Or in one of Kapatid's (J-hoon) gigs. Or in a Cynthia thing. Or Loquy's. Whenever.

Oh yeah. When I got to Trixie's a little earlier, her parents were watching Sweet November. I don't particularly like the film, but there was a scene there that struck me. Girl said "There is no rule that gives me the right to put him through all of this." To which guy replied, "But it will hurt him whatever you do."

And I am alone
staring at the space
you once disturbed
with only the remembrance
of your comfort
when you were still
an arm's length away
where I should have kept you
If only I knew how.

Ah. To read again. I came home early from my dinner so I could start on the gut-wrenching task of deciding which books to bring.

And I realized that this task is fucking impossible. I don't care what anyone says. I cannot leave my inanimate loved ones to gather dust and be eaten by whatever vile creature eats books. I am taking them all, even if I have to leave all my clothes and walk around naked in the middle of winter.

"Beginning tomorrow
everything will change
I will start dying assiduously
wisely optimistically
without wasting time." - Tadeusz Rosewicz

"Do I contradict myself?
Very well then, I contradict myself.
(I am large. I contain multitudes.)" -- Walt Whitman, Song of Myself (Leaves of Grass)

"Anyone whose goal is 'something higher' must expect some day to suffer vertigo." -- Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

"when god decided to invent
everything he took one
breath bigger than a circus tent
and everything began

when man determined to destroy
himself he picked the was
of shall and finding only why
smashed it into because" -- e.e. cummings, 100 Selected Poems (77)

____________

And so, to the people who have the following books, can I please, please have them back? :

1. Mister God, This is Anna by Fynn
2. White People by Allan Gurganus (for sentimental reasons)
3. C.S. Lewis' Space Trilogy
4. Black Glass by Karen Joy Fowler
5. Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson
6. Like Water For Chocolate by Laura Esquivel
7. All my books by Filipino authors

And if you have a book of mine, even if it's not on the list, I would greatly appreciate getting it back. I'm feeling very possesive of all my beloved right now. Thanks.

You intrigue me.

I want to get into your head and hold your thoughts and uncover all the mysteries that seem to be floating in the space within. I want to hold you like you have never been held. I want you to see me and know me on my terms.

You offer comfort and acceptance and understanding.

And I can't offer anything in return. There is nothing for me to give you. Because of the hundred things that barricade the path between us. Because I am who I am. Because I have so many doors left unclosed, and so many roads left to walk.

And because at the end of it all, I know this is not right for me.

But you already know that. And that intrigues me all the more.

To Tipan

Warning: Wanda is on Senti Mode.

If I'm going to write entries about my favorite people, I should probably also write about the people I call (or Trixie calls) my sanctuary. I couldn't help but relate to Trixie's barrage of text messages. Yes, Trix, this is my roof, or whatever you call it. You are the space from which I can view my life and feel no need to hide anything.

You guys have been my refuge, my strength, my second family, my home, and my source of inspiration.

And it's hard to go down to "reality". It's hard to leave this place. If only for all of you.

Shit. I don't know what to say or how to tell you what I mean. For the first time, words fail me.

What a Nice Day.

After my Rij moment, I met up with Trixie in Makati to watch "The Ring". I should've known this day wasn't going to turn out normal the minute Trix texted me to "bring tsinelas", which fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, I wasn't able to bring.

We met in Starbucks (G4) and had a slice of oreo cheesecake while laughing at some girl's floral maryjanes. Nevermind the fact that Trixie's own pair of shoes were literally falling apart. If socks could be bold stars, hers would be right up there with Aubrey Miles and Assunta de Rossi. With her shoes smiling like Cameron Diaz to boot. Seriously.

After our dessert, we went down to get our entree. McDonald's Big Mac for Trix, and KFC for me. Armed with our edible junk, we trooped into the theater. And as fate would have it, we just had to sit in front of three very, umm, vocal, excited, and apprehensive guys. (And that's putting it nicely.) Every single scene -- scary or otherwise -- was punctuated by a "Pare, ayoko na dude" or a "I can't look in my closet anymore, man" said with the conyo accent, which ofcourse just sent both of us into fits of hysteria. How the hell can you get scared of a long-haired, cross-eyed, Japanese woman dressed in white after that?

And then, as we emerged from the dark cinematic recesses of Glorietta, Trixie realized that her shoes had already fallen hopelessly apart. So far apart had her shoes fallen, that she had to take them off. And walk in Glorietta in her oh-so-very-colorful striped socks. With a nonchalant, unfazed air at that.

This is why I love my friends. Ais, it's not just me. We are all fucking insane.

So okay, because of a certain someone, I'm listenning to the things I used to listen to in high school. Like Wolfgang for example. A lot of old school shit - rock before the screaming damaged everyone's good tastes.

I really should head on home. But before I haul myself out of this nice and soft couch and go through the requisite goodbyes, let me just drink my glass of juice, and blog a little more.

I had a nice time, only instead of after-dinner vodka, it turned out to be more of pre-breakfast cocktails. Fantastic. (Trix, Cafe Lupe at dawn is awesome.) He gave me some books by Cebuano writers, and told me exactly which books I'd like and which books would be so-so. God, the audacity of this person. The sheer fucking audacity. The annoying thing is I can't tell him off because he'll probably be right.

He's leaving for his so-called adopted home in a few hours. I probably won't see him again until Christmas next year, and I'm not even sure about that. And then, as what's usual these days, we shall be relegated to emails and reading each other's blogs. Sad state of affairs.

Shit. I hate goodbyes.

____________

From "Do What You Have to Do", Sarah Mclachlan

and I have the sense to recognize that
I don't know how to let you go
every moment marked
with apparitions of your soul
I'm ever swiftly moving
trying to escape this desire
the yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
the yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
I know I can't be with you
I do what I have to do

A quarter-life eulogy for Rij, one of my favorite people.

One of my closest male friends (if not the closest), who's in town right now, asked me why I don't have an entry about him. Insane, arrogant bastard. I saw him briefly yesterday, but we only managed to greet each other and exhange hugs and kisses and a lot of god-I-missed-yous. We met up in Makati awhile ago, but we both had something to do so we didn't really get to talk much. I asked him out to dinner, but at the rate things are going, dinner is probably going to turn into after-dinner vodka.

But then it doesn't really matter what time I see him, as long as when I do see him, I know I have him to myself. I don't want some rushed tete a tete with him. I want a long, unhurried conversation, with lots of drinks and food, and no one to bother us. So I'll just let him finish everything he needs to do, then we can have our little moment.

God, I really missed that guy.

He never makes demands, but is there the second I need him. He never asks for explanations, but I find myself giving them anyway. He knows who I am the way I want to be known.

He is one of the rare breed who will never fail to treat me like a girl, no matter how comfortable he is with me. He is the only one presumptious enough to plan our whole day together and be confident that I will like every single decision he made. He is someone I will eat balut and rambutan for, AND drink durian shake for. One of two guys who has seen me really cry. He makes me feel safe, wherever we are (even in, ahem, that particular squatters' area).

His friendship is life-altering (hehe, literally...). He knows me so well (too well, I sometimes think), words are unnecessary. He's someone I can hold and know that our friendship is forever, because we're too superior to let time and distance get in the way. He actually understands me and accepts me for all that I am - "quirks, strange philosophies, big dreams and all".

To Rij. One of my favorite people.

Satisfied?

Last night was a more cerebral, more stressful, slightly more depressing, non-beer Monday group. Stressful and cerebral because of the concern for all the work that had to be done. Depressing because it dawned on me that I only have 2 more Mondays to go.

And then ofcourse I had to go home to Aisa's email. Sad. My closest friendships have been reduced to an e-group.

Thank you to everyone who responded with demands for more info. There is hope for us yet. My answers should be in your inboxes now.

For people who want to help but are in financiallly tight spots, Tuloy has a volunteer program you can sign up for. It's 6 months, 8:30 - 9:30 at night, Mondays to Thursdays, or Saturdays at 2 -4 pm. If you sign up as a volunteer, you can basically teach either Math, Science or English or help out with administrative work. Really depends on you. Tuloy Foundation is located in Muntinlupa, beside Elsie Gaches. Orientations are held on the last Saturday of every month, 2-4 pm. Tel no. is 5602271.

For a Good Cause

Because I'm leaving, and I have no more money, and I can't give them much this year, and they really need it, I'm going to blow my cover and talk about something I normally don't share with everyone.

Boys and girls, it's Christmas and people need you.

The children's ward of Makati Med is home to cancer patients who won't even live to see next Christmas, let alone their teen years. As if that wasn't bad enough, some of them have been abandoned by their families, and their last days here are spent in suffering - physical and emotional suffering. They've already accepted their fates. They know there is no way on this earth that they will be able to afford chemo or surgery or whatever remedy rich kids can get. But. You can make their lives a little easier. Moving around and getting out of their beds would be a good gift for them. Wheelchairs, boys and girls are on sale for Php 1000 a piece. If not, candies and little toys or books are good too. Or just drop by and see how the other half lives, and show them that people do, indeed, care. It's not pleasant, especially when the nurses start telling you who's going to make it until next summer and who won't, but it's a real eye-openner.

The "Tuloy sa Don Bosco Foundation", which is an institution for street children, can alse benefit from whatever you can give. You know how we always say that someone should get these children off the streets? You see a little girl selling sampaguitas and you think to yourself she shouldn't be doing that. A teen-aged boy walks too close to you and you start clutching your bag out of instinct. Boys and girls, this is our society and we aren't helpless. We can do something. Donations in cash, kind or even personal time can be helpful. You can tour the facilities if you really want to know what it's about. Another word of caution, though. If you're going to visit the place, don't act like they owe you anything or you might get the shock of your life.

These are people who sniffed rugby as a means of survival. These are girls who prostituted themselves for the next day's meal. These are boys who get beaten up on a daily basis. To them, we are the enemy. Us, the rich snobs in our air-conditioned cars who wave them away with indifference because we can't spare them the change in our wallets, which we probably won't use anyway, while their begging us for their tomorrows.

It's not their fault they were born where they were born. And for all you know, you didn't do anything great to be where you are either. They don't owe you anything. In point of fact, we owe them.

There are many, many other charities that need help, any kind of help. I know these are tough times and you hardly have enough for gifts for the friends you love, but imagine how much tougher it is for people who didn't have the money to buy food, even before times became tough.

Besides, it's Christmas. If you never gave these people a thought for the whole year that was, think about them now.

And then pretend you never read this entry.

My body is staging a coup d'etat. My lips are bleeding. I have about a dozen little bruises and a dozen more little cuts scattered on my just-now-sensitive skin. What the hell is this?

But on to nicer, more delicious things.

Such as chocolate chip cookies. I'm trying to stay awake until 3:48 -- which is the exact time I can take out the medicated plastic guard on my teeth and finally eat the cookies my friend just brought over. Ahh... waiting is such sweet torture.

Chocolate chip cookies, boys and girls, are my biggest weakness. Add a steaming mug of hot chocolate, and you have just personally escorted me to my own version of heaven.

Too bad I'm still banned from drinking dark liquids.

Not Enough

One glance and I crumble in defeat
Your eyes are engraved in my mind
I bend over backwards
Just for the vagueness
Of your seldom-used smile

You are right beside me
But you are so far away
I am invisible

The root of my restless yearning
I have been displaced from my own world
I am unanchored again.

You robbed me of myself
Without your knowing
And I have nothing else to give.

I am laid out in offering
But I am not enough.

I am not enough.

So another nice night, which is good considering the hectic morning and afternoon that preceeded it.

Rij will be in town tonight. The quizzes are back with a vengeance.


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""Which cocktail are you?""
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What Element Are You?
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Which Sesame Street Muppet's Dark Secret Are You?
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So I'd probably be a real wild child as a vampire. Interesting:

What type of vampire are you?
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There's also a What Kind of Flirt Are You? quiz, but the image just doesn't go with my blog's colors. But here's the supposed verdict on me... oohh.. I'm supposed to be seductive.

Seductive Flirt:
You tempt and smolder. A wink of an eye or a bite of a cherry comes as natural to you as breathing. You seem to scream "you want me" while never saying a word. Your raw sex appeal gets you far and you never have to worry about being turned down. The only downside to your seductive nature is that you in your infinite temptress-ness can be somewhat difficult to approach -- your slightly intimidating. However, just by showing the slightest hint of interest, you'll make anyone a puppy at your heels.

Milk and Cookies

Another nice night. My daddy-date, remembering that I love hot chocolate from some obscure conversation we had a long time ago, surprised me by emerging from the kitchen with a big mug of the stuff. God, it smelled so good. Too bad my dentist just banned me from drinking anything dark for the next eight days. But I'm coming back for that. Definitely.

As his fridge was filled with liquids like coke, rootbeer, beer and most everything with a forbidden hue, daddy-date gave me hot milk instead. Nice. A strangely sweet (and yet another endearing) move on his part. Plus he also remembered my obssession with chocolate chip cookies, so along with my milk, he also presented me with a plate of, get this, his homemade version of Mrs. Fields' goodness . Yes folks, the man bakes as well.

I love surprises like that. I love seeing the unexpected sides of people. It just makes the world so much more interesting.

And delicious.

Daddy's Little Girl

Change of plans. Since there's nothing daddy's little girl can watch, we decided to just hang out in his house. He's busy trying to make her go to sleep, so I'm keeping myself busy blogging.

There has got to be something very endearing about guys who like children, especially guys who are very patient with very young children. Nice. Very nice.

This is probably not a very coherent post. Sorry. I'm just trying look preoccupied while watching him read to her from the corner of my eye, hehe. Oh no, I think they want to me join their bedtime storytelling. Alright, here I go. Tune back in tomorrow.

God, shopping madness. For someone who can get nauseated by the sight of racks and racks of clothes, and who has no patience for scrutinizing the display in a store, this is hell. Utter and complete hell. The last few days poured into each other to emerge as one long shopping spree, at the center of which was my mom dragging a tired, sullen, still-sleepy me.

I have no patience for fitting rooms and sales people. When I need to buy something, like jeans for example, I go to a store, survey the rack, grab the one that looks the nicest, ask for my size, and if I'm in a good mood, fit it, then I pay and leave. No fitting a dozen pairs at one go. No rummaging through piles of cloth. No lingering over the fabrics and the colors. At least not in store after store after store. And definitely not for days on end.

Which is why most of my clothes are either care of my mom or my sister. They pretty much know what I will and will not wear, so it has always worked out. Ack. What will I do when I have to shop on my own?

Anyway, tonight is going to be my own little foray into mini-motherhood. A friend asked me out to a movie... and he's bringing his 5 year old daughter along. This has got to be interesting. I hear the door bell.

I just got home, and I'm due out again in a couple of hours.

Last night was was just what I needed. Refreshing. It was nice to just kick back with someone who's on the same page as I am. No complications, no stress, no hassles. It felt good to be with someone who hasn't just seen me raw at "one point or another" but who has actually seen me inside-out over most of the last couple of years.

There's a unique sense of accomplishment in realizing that I was truly understood. There's an almost tangible satisfaction in affirming that we both knew where each of us was coming from, and that we have a real grasp of how the wheels turn in our respective heads.

So that explanations are redundant and questions are only formalities.

And all that's left is an overwhelming sense of connection, unhindered conversation that's never afraid to go anywhere, a prism of emotions, life's supply of memories, and the kind of comfort that will always be us.

Ahhh. If only life could always be this easy.

And one Last Announcement:

Be warned that I am not giving Christmas gifts this year. I am broke, or will be very soon. Sorry.

To Everyone

Oh no. Snow storm coming up, so it's looking to be a really, really cold winter when I get to Vermont. I'd shop for stuff in Hongkong with my mom (who's leaving on Sunday) -- since there are no winter stores here in tropical Manila, but there's just too much to do, so many things I can't get out of, and my passport is still with the embassy. So I'm stuck here. I made a list of things I need, though, so I hope she can shop for me instead. JR, thanks for the warning.

To the people I promised to drink with/go out with/have dinner with/etc, I have no more weekends free! So can we just meet on a weekday instead? Hehehe, I feel so special and wanted and important...

To everyone asking me to go out on a trip (Batangas and Baguio have been the most popular so far, but I like Arlyn's Palawan idea the best, hehe), if you can get time out from work, I'm game. Just tell me beforehand. Like a week beforehand, at least.

And to everyone who's in the East Coast and who's near enough to visit me when I get there, email me please, so we can have a little rendezvous before I fly out to Sunny California.

Newsflash from Trixie: Cynthia A.'s dad is in critical condition so tomorrow's gig is cancelled. She'll be in Davao until further notice. Prayers would be good.

Of Eye Doctors

I just got back from an appointment with my eye doctor at the Asian Hospital, and I'm again pleasantly surprised that I actually had a nice time.

I love my eye doctor. He's nice, patient, meticulous and he's very good at what he does. And he went to Harvard, so he's got to be at least halfway smart. But what I really like about him is he read a lot of the books I've read and/or want to read. Just this afternoon we were discussing this writer (I forget his name) and the merits of his writing. He also always seems to be genuinely interested in my work, my perceptions on various issues, and what I think about life in general. Now how often do you get that with other doctors?

Which is why I always end up staying in his office longer than I should. So if you guys need your eyes checked, email me and I'll hook you up.

I now go back to work. Deadlines are waiting.

Sometimes I feel
that god has pinned me down
like a lover to a bed
and I am helpless beneath him.

And the weight of eternity
rests on my fragile wrists.
And I have lost my worth.

Cynthia Alexander tomorrow, Seventies Bistro. Come and watch. And as Trix said in my comments box, it's Loquy, not Loki.

Only 23 days before I leave. So much to do, so little time.

The Game
To the people who got under my skin and saw me raw, at one point or another. This one's for you

I don't know when I first started calling it that. Maybe it's JR's fault, because that's the analogy he used. It doesn't even really encapsulate the whole idea of what I'm talking about, because put that way it sounds so trivial and shallow, and it's not. But for lack of a better word, there you go.

I'm attracted to the free spirits/bad boys/players for a reason. It's easy to disentangle from these people, because they expect it. They're not after permanence or a commitment. They're only after "the now". A shared space in both our lives, and then we move on.

And it amazes me that for the time that we're together, it always feels special. We unburden ourselves, and we know that at that moment, we probably understand each other the best. For the time that we're together, it’s real and it’s true.

But we also both know that the empathy is only for that moment. It won't last. And we're prepared for that. And then we slide off the intensity, and sometimes, we develop a friendship that's comfortable, deep, maybe even life-altering. And we grow.

You all know that most of my relationships have been like this. Players and the game. Because I don’t want to have to say I'm sorry. I don’t want to have to explain myself.

So I've tried to be careful and not to be with people who don't know there's a game in the first place. Yet sometimes I slip, and I fall into places I don’t want to go. And I see visions of the other roads I could take, the alternate lives I could lead. But I always find the strength to turn away. It’s hard but I always pick myself up again. Always. I can walk to the edge of my precipice, but I know that I will always go back to the path I’ve made, because if I didn’t, I know in my heart I will never be happy. I will never be satisfied, never fulfilled.

And I make no apologies for the what-ifs and the if-onlys that fill the space between us, or the heartaches and the pain that our bonds may have caused, because I refuse to ask forgiveness for being the person that I am.

You all know I've always laid my cards out on the table. You all know I've always been honest about what I want and what I can give.

And at each time the last decision was left to you.

I refuse to aplogize, but I offer all my gratitude.

Thank you. For helping me along my way. For the comfort and the warmth. For taking me on my terms. For understanding. For lending me a space in your lives. For being the people that you are.

Yosi Break

I'm taking a short break from writing all the things I should've written last week. Yes. Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines. My mind is still in a whirl and I'm not really thinking straight, so I'll probably post a more coherent and introspective entry on how I feel later on. Provided I figure that out enough to actually blog about it.

Oh god, I'm already stressed just thinking about the things I have to do this afternoon. After days-weeks-months of not being responsible for anything, deadlines seem like the curse of hell. But yes, I will survive.

Oh and for the new Cynthia convert:

Hello Baby, Cynthia Alexander

looking tired from your journey
how are you feeling now
that you have arrived
from the other side
where you were
silently waiting

from dust you come
here you are today
wherever you walk
to the Sacred Diary we go
love's ripple resounding

with the spotlight in your eye
the harsh stark reality
you are with me now
you will always be
until you walk away

The blur.

I know I had a lot of fun last night, even though the events seem all hazy to me. Cynthia night, so there you go. I finally met Anj, someone I "know" online. Got the CD (and even got extra). Plus I've always liked Sanctum, and I like the crowd there so that's already okay in itself. Had a few weird moments, like my sabog conversation with Kevin Roy, my claustrophobia attacks which were brought on by that group of unmannered Heny Sangley, and getting extremely exhausted without really doing much of anything.

Crashed at a friend's house and almost went straight to bed. Got home at ten this morning. Went to Paolo's birthday thing. Don't really remember doing much there, except watching Lia's ballet recital and the other people play Mario Bros on the obsolete family computer.

But all in all it's been a good 24 hours.

Although I'm still not sure if being called a "Strange Beautiful Creature" is a good thing.

-----

In other news:

Sancho, who plays the guitars for Cynthia, has formed a new band called Loki. Razorback's Kevin Roy on vocals. Don't remember who else is there, but I do remember thinking that this band should turn out to be pretty good. I'll post details of their gigs when I get them.