*SHRUGS SHOULDERS AND SIGHS*

Why do I continue to have this ambivalence towards my work? I don't know, I don't know.

Last Saturday a friend was telling me about a certain work prospect related to our field, and I had the sudden urge to drop everything and resign from my job. Mark gave me a random email address and told me to send my CV for a planning-related position, and I had to muster all my strength not to. I don't know why, don't know why.

Am I not satisfied? Am I not learning enough here? Is this boring me? I don't know, don't know.

Maybe it's this great big stormcloud of regret hanging over me. Things I could have done, things I wanted to do, what I could have accomplished had it not been for my current work. Promises broken, excuses made, a little dream I started to realize and suddenly gave up. And now I feel miserable one moment, accepting and docile the next. I know I should be happy with the decisions I've made. There are lessons to be learned, after all. But why does this nagging feeling persist? I'm starting to feel like a broken record, really. But I just can't shake it off. Why? Why??

Oh, you know the answer.

NOTHING LIKE IT YET

I did it. Finally!

I climbed a mountain. Mt Gulugod Baboy in Anilao, to be exact.

This is a milestone , people. My theory about my parents is in shambles right now, but hey, better that than not being able to have this:

More kwento later. Right now I'm just savoring the hangover.

WHAT PAULA COLE SANG

Once in a while I get this feeling of restlessness. It's as though I want to run, to sprint away and just go. There's a pressure inside me waiting, just waiting.

I just learned that my old friend in the States is quitting her job and moving hundreds of miles to start a new life. Not that she's unhappy with what she has; on the contrary, I think she couldn't be happier right now. But she just felt she had to do it, to uproot herself and find a new place, to take on this adventure and give new and greater meaning to her life.

Naiinggit ako. Why couldn't I do that? Granted, she lives in a land where independence is widely encouraged, even forced. Her parents probably gave her the blessing to do whatever she wants to do. Mine, on the other hand, are determined to keep me strapped to the inside wall of our house, like a painting on display that they can examine whenever they felt the urge, and ignore when they're busy looking at a lamp near the couch. Ouf. No, they're not that bad. But it's not a very encouraging atmosphere either.

All my life I've sat, a good little pupil with her hands on her lap and her eyes looking straight ahead. The few times I've tried to break away ended in disaster, with me in the losing end of course. Recently though, I was "granted" some degree of freedom. I managed to cross a sea without them, on a non-school or -work related trip. And if I insist on going to Sagada, they'd probably allow me -- as long they have a copy of my complete and detailed itinerary, and with a semi-interrogation when I get back.

But to let me go? To send me off to a place with no certainty of transportation, food or lodging? To allow me to just be free and find my own way? No. In their hearts, probably never.

My brother is lucky he's now living in Cebu. Cebu! So far away! What a wonderful place to be in. Two nights ago he lost his celphone downtown. One on hand it's such a tragedy because there was so much more in that phone than mere contacts and text messages. There were ideas and concepts and various streaks of brilliance. On the other hand, it was probably cathartic. Now he has to start from scratch, quite literally. A totally new lease on life.

Meanwhile, I'm stuck here, with two celphones but no time, no money to spare and no one to go anywhere farther than QC with. I watch Travel and Living and dream of Italy. I book flights to places I won't go to and plan trips that never happen. Bleah.

But everyone says to wait. I've got a whole life ahead of me. Ok fine. But time is running so fast, you know? At least for me. Pretty soon I'll be 25, then 27, then 30, then no longer fit enough to climb a mountain or jump from a cliff. I just wish...haay, never mind.

I swear someday I'm gonna have my cake and eat it, too. But therein lies the problem. I want my cake now.

Aaaauuugghhhh.

DECODED, FINALLY

I treated my family to Da Vinci Code last weekend. Yes, suckers we all are.

It was...okay. Just okay. I wasn't enthralled or shocked. In fact, I was rather underwhelmed (that girl in 10 Things: You can be overwhelmed, you can be underwhelmed, but can you just be...whelmed?).

Too much drama and kindergarten explaining, and too little thrill. I'm not saying this because I've read the book; I've read all Harry Potter books as well, and much as Harry is corny kidstuff, the book-to-film attempt of that one fared so much better than Ron Howard's limp endeavor, all things considered.

Sure, there was an extraordinary breadth of information to cram into two hours, but with faster and better storytelling they could've pulled it off. LOTR did. I mean, the Dan Brown's book reads like a script by itself, how could you go wrong? But they did. Watching the movie, you feel as if you're sitting at the edge of your seat - not with excitement but with impatience. Half the time, you are gripped by an intense desire to shout, "go, move the story along will ya?!" The other half is spent comparing the book to the movie. Not a good sign.

I dunno. Maybe it's just me. Hey, it wasn't that bad. You have to give them props for being brave enough to come out with a film version. I just wasn't as impressed as I thought I would be. Like one critic said, it lacked the riddle-solving, analytical approach that the book had. It fails to draw the viewer in to the chase. And that's where the excitement is, really. I would want to feel involved, not like an outsider watching several people run around like mad. Plus, the ending sucked for me. It was fine until the camera zoomed and went undergound to show Mary Magdalene's sarcophagus. I mean, hello. Can you spell overkill? A gazillion people have read the book, and even if they haven't, it wouldn't take a rocket scientist or even a college student to figure out what was inside the frickin *******. If the makers of the film had told the story properly (read: effectively) from the beginning, Langdon's kneeling down at the spot and the riddle being said in the background should have been more than enough to explain the significance of that scene. Duh. So much for mystery.

And that Bishop Aringarosa was such a distraction. I couldn't get Octo Octavian out of my mind. I kept waiting for tentacles to jump out his back and whack the other priests. No traces of them, however. Too bad. That would have been exciting.

We got a call from Iloilo this morning. My tito, papa's youngest brother, is dead. I don't know the details, but mama said he fell down the stairs as he was getting coffee. It was most probably a stroke.

I'm not very close to my dad's relatives, but there's something about this kind death that pulls you down. It shocks you. How could that happen? My tito was very strong, very alive. He had a loud voice and a confident gait. He was always nice to us. His daughters are adorable. For him to be snatched away so suddenly...it was just one morning. Like any other. My little cousins were probably still asleep. There's a level of disbelief that can't be diminished.

---

I want my death to be a slow one. Not to add agony or drama or whatever, but just so my loved ones and I know. I hate not knowing. I hate bad surprises. It's like coming home to a house in complete disarray. All you can do is look. You can't even utter the question "why?" It just is, and you know can't do anything about it. That's what keeps you dumbfounded.

I hate for my death to be like a thief. I want to be able to say I love you to all the people I love. I want my family to know that no matter how grumpy I can get, I would still do anything for them. I want my friends to know that I appreciate them. I want my baby to know I will love him forever.

If I could tell everyone I know to take care, every single day, I would. I don't know if that would help, though. No one in this earth is big enough to question the motive of death, if there is one. Sure, science can always explain the causes. No one disputes that. But there is still a void that needs to be filled by something less mundane. If you believe in something greater than yourself, if you believe in the universe, you know there's a reason, and you understand that you are not in the position to doubt it.

---

Time and again, death teaches us what we've known all along but too often forget: that life is precious, life is a tiny wonder. It insists on being lived to the fullest, and we would do well to grant its request. Life is a whisper of something magical inside us, yet beyond us.

I think we're ready to go when we've "sucked the marrow of life," gone as far as we possibly can to reach an understanding of it, seen the magic and shared it as much as we can. Until then, we walk on.

PRELUDE TO DISASTER

Thank Nokia for the radio feature on my phone. It keeps me from downing buckets of coffee and picking at my cuticles.

I'm booored. Besides mutilitating my fingers, I've taken to threading through my hair, looking for dead (well, double-dead) strands and plucking them out. Seriously. I've been doing it for days, it doesn't even hurt that much anymore. I've read and reread blog entries, searched names on Google, learned that Scott Moffatt has a new aldum out and that Bob and Clint live in Thailand now. Egad I'm regressing!

So this is corporate life huh. My back hurts from sitting in a chair pretending to be ergonomic, I got nowhere to eat (I'm deathly afraid of Jollijeep, especially since I was confined for typhoid fever not so long ago, and because I was raised praning), and it seems no one in our office takes merienda. I'm not a big rice eater but I do like merienda.

I know this griping will boomerang, probably next week when my boss returns from the hospital and swamps me with work. I predict that by then my life would spin out of control.

Loving life and getting it order are two different things. I hope the window of opportunity I have right now to "run around" won't haunt me in the future. Under normal circumstances this would be called "spreading myself too thin." The result could only be haphazard work.

Shit. I just realized the world could very well come crashing down, any moment now.

But I'm hungry na. The world will have to wait!

SUNNY CLOUDY DAY

I am superwoman! I ran around Makati at lunchbreak today in my heels and floral blouse, split between two jobs, and with spare time to inhale a hotdog sandwich and give the bf a noontime kiss. Now I'm back in the office, contemplating on pushing through with a long-held plan that might hasten my professional development, or throw me down that chasm of shame which I've managed to avoid for at least a couple of years (whew). Last week I met with some old friends, albeit very briefly. Yesterday my adviser texted and recommended that I present my proposal at the forum on April 26. This weekend I'll be saving mangroves and wildlife in Puerto Galera, and next week I'll be in Davao slugging it out with DILG and LGU officials. Yeah baby this is it.

When your life (or a minute part of it) is laid out before you in full view, your lungs sort of expand, and you sense a prolonged tingle in your chest. It's a breathless instant, and suddenly you feel heady.

You want it all. Sure you do. You think, this is how's it's meant to be. You can see everything clearly. You mark your mental to-do list, each item checked with a flourish. You think, hey, my life plan seems to be working out after all.

Then you seriously hope that your resident creature of gloom doesn't stick its furry face out again and start gnawing at your insides, posioning you with self-doubt. No, no, because if it does you'd have to bring in Rainbow Brite and some of fhe Care Bears to wash away the darkness in the pit of your stomach. They'd be glad to oblige, they always are, but they're much too busy now with people who have real fears. So you shut up and prod on.

Are you still breathless? Or just tired and out of breath?

Sigh. See, I just rained on my own parade. Classic.

Today is my second (and a half) day at Halcrow Philippines. Yep, I got a job. I mean a second job, since I was already involved in the Planades project when I accepted Halcrow's offer . Now I don't really know which is my “primary” job at this point. Last week I was absent from Halcrow (for two and a half days!) because I had to go to Baguio for a Planades activity. I know, bad. But I already warned Halcrow about this, and they hired me anyway.

I must admit I’m enjoying Planades thoroughly. There's so much activity, and I like the people I'm working with (with the exception of some very annoying individuals. But what can I do, that's planning.) I have yet to be excited about my actual work at Halcrow. My direct boss is on sick leave--has been for over a week--which means there's very little for me to do except browse the company’s intranet and read company materials. I'm very interested in the company's profile and projects though, and I do hope that my being part of them in some small way would be an enriching experience. Plus, it's a British company, a fact that I absolutely luuuuv. Man, the British are fantastic. Love the accent, love their charmingly formal yet frank ways, love the humor. Love them. Plus, our regional planner--who's very nice and insists that I drop the "sir" when addressing him--is a town and country planner back in Britain. Akindred spirit. Love it.

My only problem is time. It's hard to juggle two companies when you're not the boss in either. You're answerable and accountable to both, and you go around thinking if you should be guilty or self-righteous about why you're prioritizing one over the other at any given moment. You have no excuse and double the responsibility. It's excruciating. But there's really nothing I can do. I guess they'll just have to live with it.

Whether it's Planades or Halcrow, I'm definitely off the couch and out of the house. For whatever it's worth, this is a good thing. I got a lot of flak from relatives who constantly asked what I was up to (read: are you still jobless?), and friends who thought one of the following: 1) I'm having the time of my life because I don't have to worry about work responsibilities 2) I'm secretly miserable and they're secretly sorry for me or 3) I'm a useless, broken cog in the wheel of society and they are secretly annoyed by the fact that I hadn't done anything about it.

Thing is, I don't care much for others' opinions of me when it comes to work. I'd rather be jobless than stuck in something for which I feel nothing but distinct abhorrence. However, for a time I did feel a sting of helplessness and impatience, one that emanated not from others, but from within. Interestingly, it was when I got over the hump and decided that worrying won't do me any good that the work started rolling in. I had to be okay first, before life could made things okay for me. I'm not sure if that makes sense. All I know is that positivity begets positivity. Also, that things come at the right time, at the right place. So no questions, and no room for doubt. Because the universe is perfect that way, and if we can't understand that, then we would be miserable.

ORAYT!!!

My adviser said the most magical words today: Okay na ang proposal mo.

Finally, after four months of exhausting my brain cells, mutilating my ego and punishing my body with bad diet and unkempt hair, I am done. Thank you to those who successfully dodged and deflected my channeled wrath, and deeper thanks to those who willingly absorbed it.

There's still the research forum, data collection and analysis and defense, so brace yourselves. In the meantime, hello summer!

MY LIFE ACCORDING TO MONKEYQUIZ.COM

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	6.8
Mind:	6.3
Body:	6.1
Spirit:	6.7
Friends/Family:	6.8
Love:	7.7
Finance:	4.2
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

THE YANG TO MY YIN

I forget which is the "light" and "dark" of the two. No matter, they form the same whole, and are inextricably connected.

Just like our good days, which are always, always tempered by crappy days, the intensity of the latter exactly matching that of the former. Didn't we Librans always know it? Life is a balance.

So when you're extremely happy, at the back of your mind you should know that something might, nay, will go wrong, any day now. Haha, praning. Nah, it shouldn't stop you from being happy, but it helps you to not be blind. And when you're suddenly thrust into good ol' Murphy's vortex, fret not, because things will explode in flowers and sunshine soon enough. Promise.

I've been feeling pretty good the last couple of weeks. Maybe that's why the universe, having had enough of my smiling, gave me a hard shake yesterday. Can't say how, just that I was reminded once again of the reality that people can be truly evil, unkind and shamelessly dishonest. Blocked my sunshine out, that's for sure.

Here you are trying to be the best person you can be, and others will put you into positions of compromise and fear. Whatever hope you have for society and faith you have in the goodness of people will be challenged.

What will you do? When your confidence in this world is diminished, what will you do? Again, the choice between fight or flight. Fight and meet certain death, or leave and be saved, knowing that others will be left behind? And when your future dangles on a thread, held hostage by strangers who feel they can wield power over you, what will you do? Will you stand by your belief and risk losing everything, or will you succumb?

How does one survive? What of ourselves do we save and what are we willing to let go of, so we can honestly say that we lived our lives the best way we know how? How do we dance this sadistic dance of life, with all its beauty and ugliness, comfort and pain? Where every step is a step towards heaven AND hell?

MORNING AFTER

I attended my first Planades meeting yesterday (for those who don't know, it's the research arm of my grad school).

Yep, I'm working again! It's been roughly six months since I left Senate. Now my friend from that office is returning the dogs I had given him for his birthday (hmp!), and I don't know what the hell is going in Sen. Angara's life. You don't need to comprehend that last sentence. Suffice it to say that a lot has happened since I stopped going up that elevator to Rm 504, GSIS Bldg.

Anyhoo, I'm loving my life now. Like my ever wonderful thesis adviser said, it's time I got my feet wet in the planning profession. So yebah for me, I think I'm actually moving in the right direction.

As usual, I'm the youngest in the team. That makes me the most inexperienced. I'm trying not to put pressure on myself, but I hope I don't disappoint. My main objective is to not look stupid, hehe. Good thing I understood what was being discussed last night. I think. Whew.

I got home just in time for Princess Lulu and PBB. I'm starting to like Lulu, and PBB is both entertaining and slightly sick. Shucks am I turning into a Kapamilya? The horror!

I wanted to make an analysis of last night's episode of PBB (haha, adik talaga shyet), but I couldn't get past the Roxy-Bianca-Rico mess. *okay, those who don't watch PBB, skip this paragraph* There's so much to say, katamad to write it all down. But Big Bro is the man, yeah baby. Bianca was finally forced to look at her condition and examine her own character. And she came out all confused. Mature as she may seem, she still has a lot to learn, just like the rest of us. Can you taste the slight bitterness in my tongue? Haha, no naman. I think it's a good thing she went through that ordeal. At least she had the chance to gain a deeper understanding of herself.

Sometimes we need to be pushed to the corner so we can take stock of who we are, what we want, how much we want it and what we're willing to give up. We don't always come out unscathed. We dont have to.

Yun lang naman. Good morning!

TODAY...

...I learned that:

1. I can still wake up at 5 am.

2. Chickens can actually fly to the top of trees. I'm not kidding. I almost jumped when I heard the flapping of wings and saw poor leaves falling from our neighbor's tree. When I looked up, there were several chickens (hens? roosters?) perched on the higher branches. Okay maybe they didn't fly. Maybe they hopped. I wish I took a picture.

3. People, those I meet for the first time, and maybe acquaintances, will probably always see me as this confident, strong person. I just met a British guy (old, but cute accent) today who told me that he saw me as such. However, as my friends know, I totally am not. I don't know how people get that impression of me. It's not always good because sometimes I feel I have to live up to certain expectations, when really, I just want to hide.

4. I should really leave the world of writing and publishing behind. Completely. I think I made a declaration like this several months back. I tried to follow Len's advice, which was to pursue a career in our chosen field. But I got sidetracked for a brief moment. So now I'm making a reiteration. Haaay. As much I loved that life, it's just not..me, not anymore.

5. I still am a lucky girl. Always taken care of, always the baby. My lola went to our house yesterday to clean my closet. She hates seeing that hopeless, albeit colorful pile of clothes. She folded all my blouses and--get this--put them inside transparent plastic bags, two blouses per bag. Hmm, maybe it's to prevent me from pulling them out unceremoniously and then carelessly throwing them back in. So now, every time I get dressed, I have to untie the plastic bags and fish out the blouse. If I change my mind it will be another round of searching and untying. Dreadful. Now I actually have to think about what to wear before I open the closet. My, my, nanay is clever. I love her hehe.

6. I haven't satisfied my obsession with jackets in a long time. Now it's summer. Sheesh.

7. I really should do more. Because I want to live on my own, and when I do I want to have the skills necessary for me not to starve, and at the same time have clean clothes on my back and money in my pockets.

8. I am happy, after all.

CIRCA 2006

During the impeachment fiasco last year I texted my mom. I asked her, when would people wake up and take notice of what was happening in the country? When will they take responsibility for themselves and their fellow Filipinos? And when will they learn to fight? She answered:

If a new Marcos era comes along. If rowdy, shameless students in Starbucks begin disappearing. If remains of noisy, brainless mediamen are found in shallow pits, if men in uniform begin barging into the homes of farmers, if fisherfolk tie dead soldiers in their boats and drag them around the bay area until their brains spill out to sea and before the eyes of townsmates. If women begin losing husbands and sons and daughters into the night. Just like in the Marcos era. Now? No.

The statement says a lot. Among other things, it speaks of disenchantment and the collective sentiment of a people who witnessed evil during Martial Law, our parents and relatives who are now both idealistic and cynical. It speaks of disgust about more recent political movements and conspiracies--from both ends of the spectrum--that have bastardized and abused the spirit of the original EDSA. It speaks of a people that will not move a muscle unless this spirit is GENUINELY alive, like it was back then when they were fighting a dictator. It speaks of pragmatism, too, and disgust at the crisis we have facing of late, a crisis that unfortunately for their trained eyes and experience still does not merit more than a conversation over dinner.

And maybe they're right. Why will I stand shoulder to shoulder with a politico who the next day will probably jump the fence to the other side? Or with others who nurse fragmented vested interests and carry hollow blocks in their backpacks to throw at the police who will quite naturally retaliate, thus triggering mayhem? Why will I still share hopes of freedom and integrity with those who have attempted time and again to topple past and present administrations, just so they could grab the power for themselves? Why will I believe Ramos, whose attempt at a military junta 20 years ago was the reason people flocked to EDSA anyway? Why will I put my beliefs on the line, only for them to be trampled upon by ill-meaning political elites who have shamelessly and self-righteously dictated out nation's destiny? Why will I want to be a party to this farce again, like I have unwittingly done many times in the past?

We will never have another EDSA, in the full sense of the word. That's what I realized. How quickly does hope fade in this day and age; Edsa Dos is now just a blurred memory. All I can remember now was Jim Paredes throwing out Zesto Juice to the crowds, and my friends and I sitting on the floor of Robinson's Galleria to while away the time. My whole heart was in it then, but why does it seem so distant now? For some reason I feel more strongly for the events of 1986, even though I was just three years old at that time. Today Edsa Dos, Tres, etc hold very little meaning, when I really think about it.

I feel like we're standing delicately on this slippery floor, and we're hopelessly tripping over ourselves. I remember a word used in one of our articles in Kule about the student council elections. Rigodon. Everybody changes places, but it's the same tiring dance.

On the other hand, we need to be alert. Because like I said before, history is still alive in the present, and we are living in what Renato Constantino calls the continuing past. We can't shake off the residue of Martial Law unless we truly learn from it. Truly. Until then, GMA will continue to make warrantless arrests, like Marcos did before. She will keep closing down media outfits, like Marcos did before. Politicians will continue to pillage and deceive and take people for the fools that they are, like so many before them have. In this kind of dynamic, we all lose, because we are all a part of the cycle, and without learning, there is no breaking the cycle. In 1986 and in the years that followed, we were given the power to exercise our freedom. This power is never more real than in our right to vote. But we have wasted and are still wasting that power. What a shame. We are a disgrace to the many who have died and sacrificed themselves so that we can enjoy our lattes and complain about the horrid political system today. This is coming from someone who had campaigned for an actor and seen the people gobble him up like a savior.

The celebration of EDSA at 20 is over. It began with the administration turning a blind eye to the entire thing. It escalated into an ironic deja vu of violence and curtailment of freedom. It ended numbly, with people teetering between apathy and alarm. In the aftermath was a stand-off between opposing factions of the Marines, and messages about impending riot that continue to circulate (Stay away daw from cell sites and government buildings tomorrow, the texts say). And through it all a blanket of uncertainty, covered by a wider and confusing blanket authority.

The celebration was, ultimately, a failure. A failure most especially in the hearts of our people. Our country indeed has come full circle, from that glorious February morning in 1986 to a shocking February day in 2006. And look at us now. We're still the same, only that we're allowed to grow our hair.

EDSA

A state of emergency is declared on the eve of the 20th annual celebration of our nation's emancipation from tyranny through people power. The order is given by someone who herself shot to presidency via similar means.

Go figure.

LOST WORLD

I'm swinging between sleep and excitement. I hope I don't doze off while typing. Anyhoo.

I seem to have hit a brick wall yet again. I can't find a rock-solid, "valid" methodology for my thesis. I'm trying to take the radical path by using fuzzy cognitive mapping and some other graphic approaches. But apparently, no one, at least in this country as far as I know, has done FCM yet. This sucks, because I think it's a good method and it works in other countries that have used it in environmental planning and management. But as it is, in my position, it's extremely hard to justify.

Hmm. Truth be told, my school to me right now looms like a dinosaur. Not physically or spatially (it's a plain, gray, two-storey building with worn-out beams, located at the fringes of the university, and can be crossed from end to end in about ten steps. Hardly intimidating.) but in a temporal sense. It's--dare I say it--archaic. The weight of history and old, undying notions and philosophies falls heavily upon all who enter. The paradox is that everyone in there is supposedly looking towards the future. That is what we do, that it what the profession entails. Yet the pillars of learning, rooted deep in sentimentality, power and authority, are stuck hopelessly in the past. I am blessed to have come across teachers who managed to inspire and move me, and I am forever thankful to them for opening up my hapless mind, but something tells me that there's room for improvement. No, actually, a revolution.

Study calls upon us to be receptive, to be open to new ideas that abound in this great, big world, to imbibe those learnings and to grow through them. But if we sit and sip coffee all afternoon with colleagues, basking in the glory of perceived invincibility, impervious to the changes around us, then that's not gonna happen. It's a contradiction to the very principles we espouse.

Maybe that's why when people leave the school, they don't usually return, and they rarely give back. And so the beams continue to decay, the paint will eventually peel off, the walls will turn grayer and, apart from spurts of reminiscence that it ignites in people's memories, it remains still in the shadow.

SHINY HAPPY

I saw Grosse Pointe Blank again on cable. I never tire of that movie. John Cusack will always hold a special place in my heart. Hihihi.

It's got a slammin soundtrack, too.


I Can See Clearly Now

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone,
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright, bright
Sun-shiny day

I think I can make it now, the pain is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is the rainbow I’ve been prayin' for
It’s gonna be a bright, bright
Sun-shiny day

Look all around, there’s nothin' but blue skies
Look straight ahead, nothin' but blue skies

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone,
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright, bright
Sun-shiny day

IYAK, TAWA, IYAK

It hasn't been five days since I was in a jeep somewhere in Makati feeling like the entire sky was collapsing on me. Every step I took was a mixture of frustration, sadness and fear. I desperately wanted out, I wanted to run away as fast and as hard I as I could, to physically feel each molecule of despair slide off my body. I couldn't, so I just had to push on, ever so slowly. But the tears fell anyway (in McDo of all places).

That was before today. Today my thesis adsiver said I have a "good concept." WOOHOO! Finally I feel like I'm getting somewhere. Rejoice, rejoice!

Haaaaaaaaaaaay. Feeling ko nabunutan ako ng tinik. I just have to beef up my methodology and add visuals to my conceptual framework (good ol' meister mark pointed it out even before Ma'am Jimenez read my proposal. Yes, yes, magaling ka na.). Basta, happy. I've never been so relieved. After all the confusion and sleepless nights, wondering if I even had a point to make, in the endless sea of points that experts have already made about the Philippine housing problem, this is just sweet.

Except that my feet hurt so much now from all the walking I did today. I wonder why my right leg feels so much heavier than my left. Don't I walk straight?

Anyway, I'm home and resting. No more research for today. Yipee. Kick back and surf the tube baby.

Caught part of the Grammy Awards. Kelly Clarkson won for best pop vocal. Over Gwen Stefani, Sheryl Crow, Fiona Apple and Paul McCartney. Huwaaat? Change channels.

Hmm. I have to say, iyakin talaga mga artista. It's a built-in feature. Hardwired for heightened emotional outbursts. I mean, okay, so Christian Vasquez cried on his birthday coz he misses his kids. The next minute everyone was in hagulgol mode. And it's not just coz they're inside the House and they know people are watching--that was First Season--this time they just, well, overflowed. They cried because they felt like crying. It's just the way they are. Even Budoy of Junior Kilat cried his heart out. He explained the advertisement he hung on his shirt for a show that his artist friend is doing, and lamented the fact that many good Filipino artists are struggling to survive, people who don't get noticed but won't give up and compromise their craft. And he bawled his eyes out for those people. I was genuinely touched.

For those who don't get, this is about Pinoy Big Brother Celebrity Edition. Haha! Gawd am I PBB addict? Egad. But it is amusing to watch these "celebrities". Except for that Angela person who's just so prissy and overbearing, and Gretchen who does nothing but karate-kick and karate-punch the air. Enough already, it ain't cute no more. Man oh man, Keanna has gigantic boobs. I mean really big. Way to go mr. plastic surgeon whoever you are, but didn't you overdo it a bit? And hey, my legs are nicer than Bianca's, harhar. I used to watch her brother religiously on Breakfast (Studio 23). Always woke up early, groggily turning on the tv to see him say good morning. Talk about loser. Anyway.

Why is Rustom sooo thin?

I have no idea who will win this season. I'm not really rooting for anybody, it's just fun to watch them be silly and stupid and inane and some of the time sensible, too. But good lord why are conversations inside that house so utterly boring and pointless? Like that talk about people having eyes at the back of their heads (don't ask). It just dragged on and on and on and on. Have they nothing else interesting to talk about? Pardon? Oh, yes, looooove. In the next few days I think we'll witness the unraveling of (rx93.1's) Rico Suave's hush-hush past with singer Roxy aka Roxanne Barcelo (who has one song to her name), who incindentally is also a "housemate". *rub palms together and say ooooh*

Haha, I'm so pathetic. Well, it's this or being at my wits' end with my thesis. So forgive me for patronizing average endeavors from time to time, otherwise I'd be madder than I already am, and you don't really want that.

IT'S THE HAIR

I got out of the house today (I am a caged animal, yes), in an attempt to shake off the blues. Walked around, had dinner, watched a movie. Squealing in the theater while Jen Aniston's character was being raped seemed to do the trick.

What in the world does that girl put in her hair? More than ten years I've been watching her, and I still don't know. It's beautiful, darn it. Always in place--each soft, silky strand--layered, wavy, straight, blond or with highlights or beautiful brown like she wore it in Derailed. Shit I'm lusting after Jennifer's hair.

Anyway, kudos to her. Although her last movie was bland and fluffy like chiffon cake (aaack I can't remember the title, it's that forgettable. I remember it's about a family controversy that was the basis for the movie The Graduate. And I remember her hair. Longer, flew around a lot. Oh got it: Rumor Has It), it's still all good. She has a movie being shown at the Sundance Festival and rumor has it (ha. ha. ha.) that it's good. So snaps for the brokenhearted. Well, not so much since Vince Vaughn arrived, who by the way is a good friend of Brad's. Brad, on the other, has recently acquired dad status. He has three children at last count, and Angelina said she plans to adopt a bunch more, and have more from her own womb. Cheaper by the dozen, Brad?

I am such a gossip whore.

And on that note, I bid good night.

HOW BIZARRE, HOW BIZARRE

Monday again.

Got less than two weeks before a major deadline.

I wonder why I procrastinate so much. Is it genetic? Is it because I live far away, and when you're far from the hustle and bustle time moves a bit differently? Is it because the people around me (i.e. family) never (and I mean never) feel a sense of urgency?

Ah, the point of my thesis exactly. Hay.

----

Last Thursday, I went to school for thesis consultation. I, being myself, didn't have an umbrella and had to be content with a cute, little, useless jacket. I was walking hurriedly along E. Jacinto when

Guy: Miss--
Me: (What? What was that sound behind me?)
Guy: Miss..

I turn around and see a somewhat normal-looking guy beside a vehicle parked on the street with flashing lights. Er, was he in trouble? Did he just run out of gas?

Me: Uh, yes?
Guy: Hi. I was wondering if I could get your number.
Me: (Huwaaat?!) What?
Guy: (repeat)
Me: Huh? Why? (okay right here I could have said no, but I didn't realize what the proper response was for this kind of bizarre encounter)
Guy: I just think you're nice.
Me: (WTF??) And how (pray tell) did you know that?
Guy: Well, I saw you walking a while ago and I just thought you seemed nice. So I parked the car and waited for you to get here. I just want to get to know you.

GOOD GRIEF. Of all the pick-up lines, man...I wanted to say sorry, I'm taken, and have it done with. But that wasn't really the point. There is no instance in my life, given any civil status, wherein I would actually give out personal information to possibly crazy people like the one in front of me. What a relief that I was just several steps away from our building. Besides, he could've made a jackass retort along the lines of "I wasn't looking to be your boyfriend I just want to get to know you so you needn't be so praning or prissy," which would have enraged me, thereby lengthening our pointless conversation in the middle of the street, which would get me even more wet because hell, it was raining. If he thought I was so nice he should have given me a friggin umbrella. So

Me: Sorry, I don't give my number to strangers.
Guy: (I can't seem to get your drift coz maybe I'm just that stupid). Please...blahblahblah
Me: Sorry. And I really need to go now. Hay. (Can't you see the exasperation level rising?? And is that really an expectant look in your eyes? Are you one of those psychopaths who would you turn dark and dangerous if I don't oblige? Yikes. I decide to do some steering. Hopefully not into a trap.) Hmm. Malay mo pag nakita mo uli ako mamaya, somewhere in the university (okay start praying for a non-serendipitous afternoon. Waaah!)
Guy: Well, I know we won't see each other anymore today (Yahoo! He ain't that dense after all!), so if you won't give me your number, I'll just give you mine.
Me: (Oh. Boink.)

He proceeds to scribble his number on the back of a Mcdo coupon. He gives it to me and I shove it into my back pocket.

Walk away girl, run, fast!

Fritz/Bong: Where are you going? Gusto mo hatid na kita?

Aaaaaarrrrgggghhh! As if I would climb into the car of some freakazoid whose name could be Fritz or Bong or, in his case, both. Do I really look that vulnerable? Is it the blank yet slightly pained look on my face? That's not kidnap-me-innocence mister, that's thesis-induced confusion.

Me: No, thanks.

He gets into his car then cruises beside me while I scurry as fast as I can.

Fritz/Bong: Are you sure?
Me: Yes!
Fritz/Bong: Okay.

And it was with irritation and amusement that I went to my consultation.

But I wonder now, if I had been in a bar, single, dancing and drinking with my girlfriends, presumably looking fabulous (or fabulously drunk), and someone approached me to ask for my number, would I have given it? Would it be less...disgusting and strange? Would that kind of behavior pass, given that context?

Ah, the point of my thesis exactly. Although I can't really test that little hypothesis on myself. Haven't been to a bar in ages. AGES. I'm neither fabulous nor drunk. Just, well, nice, according to Fritz/Bong. Harhar. And I have a boyfriend who (thinks he) is Supahman.;)

Speaking of...Hey bebebe! Happy 7th! Mmmmwwwaaaaah! Sayang yung Mcdo coupon. BigMac ata yun. Kainin natin hehe. Mwah!