Monday, December 31, 2012


The conversation began with him asking me a loaded question.

'Are you happy for me?' he asked.

My mind froze for a few seconds. In those few seconds, I had thought of an answer which was not exactly the truth but which was not exactly a lie either. It was somewhere in between truth and falseness. Maybe you can say that I gave that answer to try to convince myself that I actually believed in the words that came out of my mouth. In fact, I believed in the words of The Click Five song that goes, 'If I say it like I mean it then maybe I'll believe it like it's true.' Screw that belief.

'Am courting her already!' he exclaimed.

I had dreaded the time that sentence would leave his lips. And it had finally happened. My whole face was smiling, but something in me was scowling the biggest scowl which no one would ever see because I would never show them. And then that sinking feeling came over me. At that time, I refused to admit that it was regret, but I think that that was exactly what it was: Regret. It was regret in its purest and undiluted form. It was regret because he had asked me out before and I casually turned him down.

It was the most perfect form of jealousy which could make a person plan evil plans and think evil thoughts. It was the jealousy that had so many questions. Who was this girl that could just make him so brave to ask her out? What was so great about her anyway? When the hell did this all start? Why did I not see this coming? So how did this all happen? Please. I need details.

It was blame. It was the worst kind of blame because I had no one else to accuse except myself. I knew exactly what my friends would say when I finally mustered the courage to say that he and I would never end up together. They would say, 'Why did you not tell him that you liked him?' It would always be my fault. And I would just have to live with the fact that I was the one to be blamed. What a shitty feeling.

'So Anna, you gotta be happy for me!'

How can I be happy for him while he is fooling around with some girl and all I want to do is keep him to myself? Those people who say that they are happy as long as the person they love is happy are just fooling themselves! You can only be happy if you share in the person's happiness. I did not. While he was happy, I was plain angry. So maybe it is true when they say that a person's happiness is always at the expense of another person.

I had a choice. I could say that I was so happy that he finally was courting her just to end the disheartening conversation. Or I could say that I was not happy at all for him which would eventually lead to him asking why. Thus prolonging the conversation on a topic I hated. Both answers were true. Both answers were false. Both answers were doubtful.

'Yeah, am happy for you!' I answered.

That was the end of the conversation.

Friday, December 7, 2012


 I just want to say thanks.

I want to show my gratitude to all those people who have not been there for me when I needed them the most. They were either too busy with school, homework,  their boyfriend or girlfriend, their dead pet or some random crap of an excuse. Other times, those people were not busy at all but just found a reason to be busy as soon as I said, 'Hey, I really need to cry right now. Care to listen?' Their reasons ranged from hilarious to downright outrageous sometimes. More often than not, I did not give a damn to point out that I knew they were lying to my face. I mean, why bother? Why force them to listen to my random vents and rants anyway?

So I thank you for allowing me to experience crying myself to sleep which just happens to be so overrated. Oh yes, I have also tried running out of a classroom and into a toilet just to cry because I knew no one for one whole semester. (Fine, I knew exactly one person.) I have climbed up on the roof of the house which overlooks a major highway and with tears streaming down my face, I yelled into the street which contained cars whose windows were shut tight. The hilarious thing was, you may not have heard my cry, but you saw it and did nothing.

Let me remind you of those times when we actually met up, but you never gave me time to bring up what was bothering me. Yes, you kept asking me and begging me to tell you how my life was. I could not even get my sentence finished for you kept butting in with a story about your sisters, how to make awesome tasting cupcakes, explanations of why your band is hot and on and on and on. So for so many long hours, I shut up and listened to you and your own travails. Not that I was unhappy listening to your triumphs and failures, but once in a blue moon, could you by any chance listen to mine?

Thank you for making me look like a good friend. They say that in any kind of relationship, there is always someone who does more than the other. Well, sometimes can you be that someone who does more than the other? It's getting really tiring to always pay for your food, check your essays for class, go all the way to where you live while you never come out to where I am staying and just going the extra mile. It seems that without the effort I have been putting into this messed up relationship of ours, it would just crumble and fall. Maybe one day I should let it. 

And yet I also recognize the fact that you have made me stronger. Without all the crap you have been giving me, you made me realize that the saying, 'No man is an island' may actually be false in some ways. You made me come to the realization that I do not need you or anyone else to survive. I do not need a person to see me cry, hear me cry, dry my tears and pat my back while saying, 'You'll make it through this really horrible professor you have in class.' Because of you, the little things have stopped bothering me so much. I have become my own person who does not necessarily depend on other people for her own happiness. I have found out that I do not need to vent to others so that my own problems can be solved. I can do it by myself.

Also, you made me find friends in low places. I found people I did not think would be there for me when I needed someone terribly. I never thought I would be friends with a person who did not enjoy the things I enjoyed, but I am friends with a person like that. Your never being there provoked me to seek out new people and new adventures that would not have happened if you did not always abandon me. I have learned a little more Filipino (Tagalog) by interacting more with people who are not so fluent in english. I have gone around Manila by taking public transportation which would not have happened if you were around. Thank you for making this happen!

So although I thought I needed you during my hard times, I was wrong. The only thing I needed was for you to walk in and out of my life in order for things to fall into place. I just had to lack some people in my life for more people to come along, not to fill the void but to make the void look so small that it did not matter any more. 

And for all of the consequences, good and bad, that our friendship caused, I thank you. 

Friday, November 16, 2012

Under Construction

Ada woke her daddy up one morning saying, 'Daddy, my smile is under construction!'

And what a weird kind of construction it is! In the span of about two months, she has lost five to six teeth. (Yes, I am too lazy to stand up and ask Ada exactly how many teeth she lost.) Is that even normal? Losing that many teeth in a short period of time? Who cares. She looks funny. She looks cute. She looks like a Halloween pumpkin. She looks like someone who needs fake teeth. She looks like she has a hard time eating without teeth. She looks like me when I was seven years old my guy friend boxed my tooth off. She looks like she is growing up.

For kids, growing up is when they lose teeth, get taller, gain weight or lose weight. They make friends and enemies. They get into stupid fights over pens and paper and books. They start throwing away clothes that do not fit them or they pass their clothes on to their younger brother or sister. They say that people stop growing when they hit a certain age. Eighteen? Nineteen? Twenty? Twenty-one? I really need to get my facts straight next time. But for now, just know that people stop growing when they reach *insert age here.* Wait. Do we really stop growing?

I know I have not gotten any taller since I was nine years old. My weight plays around with the numbers and goes from a hundred pounds to my fat weight which is a hundred ten pounds. My feet have stopped growing. Thank God! I can still wear some of my rotten clothes from high school. So I think it is safe to assume that no matter what medicine I take I will never get taller. I can try to go on a diet, but I will never go back to what I used to weigh in grade school. And it does not matter what kind of shoes I use because my feet will not shrink. Shoot. Yes, I stopped growing. On the other hand, I know that I still am growing.

Expanding. Unfinished. Work in progress. I know this whenever I have had a hard day in school and I just want to forget all about it by drowning myself in chips. I feel this when my dad asks, 'How come you only got a one point five in this subject?' I hear this when people around me laud me when I do something they deem interesting. I perceive this when I see people's questioning looks when I fail or do not exert enough effort. I notice this when I start to doubt myself, my abilities and my beliefs. I get it a lot when my mom reminds me that every decision has a consequence, when my brother asks me how my day is, when my sister in law grants me some wisdom and when the three little kids prank me. I get it. I get it, okay?

In truth, we all are under some sort of construction for as long as we are alive. We may never grow taller or get thinner, but we are all under this force that makes us develop. Hopefully we develop for the better. The only problem with this force that pushes us to grow is that no one really sees it while it is happening. They only notice the output of the growing when a long period of time has already passed. By then, it is already too late for them to either take back what they said or add on to what they have already spoken. And so during that long period of time of developing and growing and wandering around, the person begins to let the noise of the world affect their ideas of themselves. They entertain ideas that they are not good enough, they will never be able to write or nothing good will ever come out of their life. 

The thing is, the person on the journey knows that he is getting to where he is supposed to be, but those around him do not. And that is when those random people judge and criticize and say dumb things. And that is also when the person asks, 'Am I really supposed to be a writer? Can I really get through this horrible professor? Will I ever learn how to commute?' Yet it is also those doubts that force the person to exert so much effort to get to his goal or be the person he wants to be to prove others wrong. For if no one doubts and they all just believe, nothing has to be proven and the person never grows. Such confusing thoughts!

When I came home this afternoon, Ada greeted me with her odd smile. I looked at her and thought, 'Heck, if I have the opportunity to get a tattoo one day, I will make her words permanent on my skin.' I do not really care if other people have those words on their bodies already. But I just need those words somewhere where I can see it always. That way it will serve as a constant prompting that I am not finished. The people around me are also unfinished. We all are. And we are trying hard to finish up ourselves. We are under construction. 


Sunday, October 28, 2012

Packing My Life

The neighbors cannot really sing in tune. And they're drunk.

Yesterday, mom said that in about three weeks we're moving out. Might as well pack.
So basically, my things are still in boxes 'cause I never unpacked my stuff which was to go to Singapore.

So I ate all those hotdogs to get Avengers toys I now am throwing away? How messed up am I anyway?

Leo and I have absolutely no pictures together. We have no tangible proof of our friendship. Come to think of it, he looks like Ramon Bautista. Definitely not hot. I miss chatting with him though. Must bug him as soon as I get the chance. I really want to see him angry in person. Must.

Holy crap! I must thank my most recent ex boyfriend for getting me into collecting Mr. Potato Heads. Funny thing is that they're my most valuable things and they are so light. Speaking of that particular ex, I still have the two Mr. Potato Heads he gave me and the yellow camera. Everything else is gone.

I am finding it easier to throw things away now.

Inna, why do you always have rashes? Text me! Am bored.

How could I like that guy for six years? What if we eventually get together? That would be hilarious. Good thing I am not with any of my ex boyfriends anymore. I think they were all the reachers. Sucks.

I've got an extra Bible here which I dislike. Also got those religious books people give me. I might go to hell if I burn them.

There's a creepy spider down my bra. Ugh.

I really want to ask Jani if her exams are done. So I have kept almost everything that Jani has given me. She went through this phase where all she gave me were breakable objects. I even have these ugly pictures of ourselves when we were in Laguna. How long ago was that? How did we become friends?

I need a guy like Mr. Big from Sex and the City.

King of Anything is playing. Ada and Tea would be singing along to this. Gusto wouldn't care. I freaking miss them. Am really glad I got close to them although I can never curse when I am with them. All their drawings are so precious. I cried when I saw the card they gave me.

Oh, that best friend. Might as well keep all her letters to me. I wonder if we can ever get along again.

I really wanna ask JM if we were on drugs while we were in grade school. For some reason we had a lot of anger in our system. Well, we still might have anger in us but we just hide it well. Crap, he sucks at writing letters! I miss him.

So there are the letters Jhamz gave me! And the dolls. And the stuffed toys. And the random things I still keep 'cause she gave them to me. I wish I had a picture of the time she treated me out to Mang Inasal. And also the time she treated me to McDo after one break up. Holy crap.

Bad idea. Getting asthma.

My life is all in boxes. And I need more plastic boxes. Let's put fragile tape on all the sides of the plastic boxes.

How could people ever like my fanfic? It sucks! I need to tell Keisi it sucks.

Seeing all these old pictures of myself freaks me out. There were times I looked so ugly. There were times I looked human. And still there were times I looked more than human.

I do not want to remember the time I had to celebrate my eighteenth birthday. Had some sort of Jewish celebration 'cause maybe my mom is Jewish. Threw out everything connected to it. Just kept the awesome thing Manong Renzo made for me, some cards from my immediate family and close friends. The rest? Into the trash bin.

Found these old religious journals of mine. I was such a holy kid. Yuck.

Am I lucky or what? Did not find any lizards or cockroaches while packing and moving stuff!

Just realized that my parents do not know that I am packing. Holy macaroons!

I think I never really unpacked my stuff which was boxed up to be sent to Singapore because I knew that I would one day  move out of this place again.

How on earth do I get all the dust off my body? I like peeing in the shower. Gross. My only problem with conditioner on my hair is that it's so hard to wash off. I end up leaving most of it there.

HOW COULD I LIKE THAT GUY FOR SIX YEARS?! Oh. Please. Dear. God. (And just in case that guy reads this. . Every time I see you I want the earth to swallow me up because.)

10:02 PM
Let's get loud! Let's get loud! I still have stuff lying around my room! And I have no more plastic boxes. Lots of fragile tape though.

Yuck. Four boxes of trash. Maybe I should burn it tomorrow.

I should paint my room before I leave. Maybe leave a fucked up message on it or something. Must think of something witty.

Have to text message Inna to tell her that I now have rashes also. Must not tell her that I am packing.

None of my friends know that I might be out of this place in a few short weeks.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

So Many Reasons

I weep as I write this.

It has been exactly one week since my mom cut off our WiFi here in the hills. The WiFi just started malfunctioning after one big rain washed the signal away. I really do not get all the technical terms they used when they told me that the WiFi is gone and can never come back. I guess I just blacked out or something.

The day my mom cut off the WiFi was also the day I made her get DSL. She signed all the forms. She filled out an application. She even talked to the person in charge of giving senior citizens information about DSL. I thought our mini-problem was solved. To get DSL I must wait for two weeks for a person to inspect our location and then another week to install the DSL. Basically, I will have no Internet for the whole of my semestral break.

And here I am weeping. I know. You're saying, 'Do something else! Read books! Go out! It's just WiFi.' Let me tell you what I have been doing to waste time. I have read more than twenty books already. I have watched How I Met Your Mother, Modern Family, New Girl, The Newsroom and Happy Endings. I have replayed Friends with Benefits so many times that I already memorize their lines.

Yes, I have also finished designing my surprise gift for Jani. Now I just have to head to the store to have it printed and bound. Out of boredom, I helped Leo shoot some video which did not turn out the way I wanted it to. I have printed out all those random typography crap I collect from the Internet. I even taped them to my wall just for the fun of it. I printed some out for my parents and they did not get the sarcasm involved in the quotes.

I am getting terrible headaches from sleeping too much. In one day, I take around four to six naps. My sleeping pattern is all messed up. I do not care. My parents ask me why I keep sleeping. Well, it's so that I don't end up yelling my head off about our current situation. And I am getting fat, too. I take a trip to the kitchen every thirty minutes when I am not sleeping. I take two plates of everything. I eat even if I am not hungry. I eat even though I am full. I just eat because eating takes up time.

Photoshop has been my best friend lately. It has kept me company and I assume will have to keep me company until whenever. My books on fashion and design have heard me crying my head off almost every day. They remind me though to keep my tears to myself and not let anyone see me in my ugliest state. My room must mind the fact that I am going insane because there is no more floor to walk on since it is covered in books, art materials, food, trash and clothes. I have no intention of cleaning it up.

I have come to terms with the fact that the Internet should not be the basis for my happiness. And there are so many people who live without Internet and I am still lucky blah blah blah. But sometimes when you are an only child with two ancient parents who expect you to mind your own business, the Internet becomes your friend and your companion. When all your friends are still in school and you are waiting for their school to end, the Internet is someone to talk to. When you need inspiration, criticism and praise, you go to the Internet to find that and so much more.

The good news came this morning however. My mom just said that the house we have bought is going to be ready in about two to three weeks. Which means that in about two to three weeks we are moving out of the hills which has been my home for twenty years and into that house in the city. 'So why even get DSL if we're moving out anyway?' she reasoned.

I ran up to my room and cried my heart out for so many damn reasons.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Around Four Months Down The Drain

Conscience: 'You must be pretty sad that journalism is over.'
Me: 'Rather sad that Miss de Villa will not be my professor again.'
Conscience: 'You had two semesters with her.'
Me: 'Almost a year with her!'

Although Journalism was harder than Creative Writing, it was such a fun class! All we really had to do was write, write, write and make exactly one video. I guess the reason I totally respect the professor who taught this class was because she never put anyone down. Yes, she had comments and suggestions, but she did not make us feel bad about our mistakes. Another reason she is awesome is because she watches The Newsroom! We did not really have a last class because our room had to be used. Miss de Villa walked in and said, 'Girls, just submit your papers.' I asked her if I would see her next semester and she said, 'Most of you girls will be in my Creative Writing class so see you. Anna, good-bye. I've had you for a year already.' And I was and still am like, 'Noooooo!'  =(

Conscience: 'Don't you have a video of your movement dance?'
Me: 'My friend has it. Am too lazy to ask her to pass it on to me.'
Conscience: 'So you'll just put a picture--'
Me: 'Of a person who made sure that I did not drop out of that class!'

Movement class was almost like ballet! I did enough ballet to know all of the things she was teaching the class. I don't really have the body of a ballerina, but my head knows the dance steps and all those things she made us do. Knowing the dance steps still did not give me enough reason to love movement class. In fact, I used up my two cuts just so that I could stay home and not work my body to death. In the end, practicing paid off because our dance was pretty good. It was not perfect, but let's just say that I am ecstatic that this class is over! Do not remind me that there are two more movement classes I have to take before I graduate.


Conscience: 'And you thought that AVP 1 would be hard!'
Me: 'I really dreaded that class!'
Conscience: 'You did so well! How could you dread it?'
Me: 'Coming up with a design every week was taxing.'

I know how to use Photoshop, but I am not good at it. It did not really help that the professor did not teach the basics. Or maybe she did and I was not listening. Almost every other week we had a project to submit. The professor would give us guidelines, we would have to make whatever she requested and hope for the best. Being the lazy person that I am, I usually just put some crap together and prayed for a good grade. And I did get a good grade! Our last class was yesterday, Monday. I got to the room early and saw my grades. I noticed that my name was highlighted in blue. 'Those whose names are highlighted in blue get an award,' Miss Garcia said. Are you serious? Fine. I knew I was doing something right when I saw my work on the mini exhibit in school.

Conscience: 'Describe your Political Science class.'
Me: 'This was the class I became friends with Char, ate tons of food and rarely listened to the professor.'
Conscience: 'Describe the professor.'
Me: 'We called him Father Coco.' 


Conscience: 'Every Monday and Friday, you ended your day with Oral Communication. How was that?'
Me: 'Frustrating. I had to stop myself from running out of that class.'
Conscience: 'You hated it? You found it boring? You did not like the professor? Or you just really wanted to get out of the class?'
Me: 'It was at a time where all I wanted to do was sleep.'

I could lie and say that I enjoyed this class, but I think that would not be fair. On the first day of Oral Communication, I knew that I would find reasons not to like the class. I do like talking, but it's hard when a professor grades what you are talking about and how you are talking. When I got my grade for midterms I was devastated. It was not that low. It was not that high. It was those pwede na grades that professors give out. I did complain, but when I found out the grades of my classmates, I shut up. There were people who got lower than me. So yesterday, Monday, at around three something in the afternoon, I was begging God to work some miracle and get me a higher grade. I actually smiled at the professor to thank her when she gave me my grade.


Conscience: 'You almost had a problem with Women in Philippine Literature.'
Me: 'I had a problem with it.'
Conscience: 'Care to elaborate?'
Me: 'Maybe in another post.'

This subject just required us to read, read and read. It was a rather easy subject if you followed the instructions of the professor and if you did everything her way. She was strict, but I think people need to have professors who are strict to show that you cannot get away with everything. I almost died when the professor questioned my novel analysis because another girl had the same book I had to review. But I stood my ground and she accepted my paper after some investigation as done. Today was the culminating activity. It was nothing great really and I had to pretend to know some songs in Filipino. The whole class was just clapping for we were so glad this class was over! To pass this class, all one has to do is follow the professor. 

Conscience: 'Feeling happy about your Intro to Communication Theories?'
Me: 'Happy that we had no quizzes, just did easy papers and had a final video? Yes!'
Conscience: 'Did you learn anything at all?'
Me: 'I loved the theories! I even got a pdf of the book the professor used. I plan to read it during the sem break.'

Yes, I am a nerd like that. No one really had to have the book. But theories intrigue me. I sent papa to look for the book everywhere. Mom also searched for the book. I bugged the professor to give me a copy of the pdf she had. After bugging her for two weeks, she gave me a copy. And yes, I plan to read the whole book this sem break just for the heck of it. Intro to Communication Theories was one subject in which all you needed to pass was a brain and ears. Sucks if you've got ears but your brain is missing. 

Tuesday, September 18, 2012


So uhm. .

It's pretty weird when the professor thinks your work deserves to be read in class when all you think of it is crap. I walked into my journalism class today, copied what was on the whiteboard and heard my name being called by the professor. I walked up to her and she said, 'Anna, would you like to be the one to read your work to the class? Or would you like me to do it?' I told her she could be the one to read it. But the professor was like, 'Your handwriting is too small for me to read. You do it!'

They say not to judge a book by its cover, but oh that's what everyone does!

If a guy has a number of tattoos, you assume he is part of a gang. A girl with a lot of piercings? She's into drugs. You wear all black with eyeliner? You are an emo goth. And if you dye your hair blue your parents do not care about you.

'Your parents don't care about you?' a dean from Assumption College asked me when she saw my blue hair which I later chopped off. I was so floored by that question I forgot to reply. Yet I was thinking, ''How can you come to that judgement when you are part of a religious institution which instructs us to accept one another?'

Another time, I was walking around in Landmark all set to get on the escalator when a man called my attention. He said he was fascinated by my hair. And then he said, 'I assume you work in some graphic design firm.' I smiled and said no. I am still a student at Assumption. But what I wanted to yell was, 'Not all graphic designers dye their hair! And just because I dye my hair does not make me a graphic designer! I want to write!' 

Sad to say, my very own mother banished me from her house. She text messaged my brother saying, 'I think your sister has joined a fraternity. Talk some sense into her.' Oh, my mom text messaged her religious friends asking them to please pray for my decaying soul.

To stop all the non-sense, I bought a wig wore it for about two months and tried to fit in. Is it not odd that media tells us to be ourselves, but society pleads with us to fit in and cover up who we really are? Is it not annoying that those who preach about acceptance are the ones who judge and want uniformity? And when you are who you are, people think you've gone bad or have become a complete monster.

And to my classmate who clapped and listened to my crap, thank you!

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Too Awesome

Conscience: 'How are the grades?'
Me: 'Grades disgust me.'
Conscience: 'We all know that!'
Me: 'Happy. Content.'

I was never bothered by grades. If I got high, it meant nothing. If I got a low score, it also meant nothing. The midterm grades came out about a week or two ago. Nothing is new. I can kind of tell the grades that I will get at the start of the semester. Got a couple of one point somethings. Got one two. And got one two point five. Am I bothered that I got a two point five? Why would I be bothered when I most of the people in my block got a three? To top it all, those people who got a three went to that class from the first day and I only started going to that class in July. Those people never missed a quiz and I missed about two. So how can I complain or be unhappy with the two point five that I have?

Conscience: 'Tell me about the play you did.'
Me: 'What's there to tell about it?'
Conscience: 'How did it go?'
Me: 'Let's just say that I am not proud of it.'

The group I was in did the play Condemned. It is about Pablo who is set to be put to death, but cannot forgive his mother. The story takes place one hour before his execution. It's a nice play! I would like to think that our group did the best we could possibly do considering the time constraints we faced and other things like the monsoon rains and blah blah blah. I say that I am not proud of it because I did a terrible job portraying the main character. Not that I did not know my lines, but because I had to pretend to be a guy. I did not do that well. Of all the plays I have done in my entire life the only thing I can say about this play is that the people portraying the characters did not fully grasp the characters' predicament. Including me. Am just glad that papa did not see me in this one. No worries though because I enjoyed my group mates and we had a heck of a time with the play. =))

Conscience: 'You went to the WNCAA game.'
Me: 'Had to go. Was required to go.'
Conscience: 'For your clearance.'
Me: 'It's dumb. Really dumb.'

Oh my gawd. If I find out that there are people who are able to get their clearance without going to six hour vigils and WNCAA games, I will totally freak out. I had to drag my parents with me to watch some soccer game last Sunday. It was quite enjoyable because I used to do soccer in grade seven and some of high school. Papa just sat around reading some newspaper. And mom brought her breakfast basket and had some bread with Conti's spread. I watched. It was hard to cheer for Assumption when La Salle was playing. La Salle was good. They won. I found it a little sad that non one really watched the games.

Conscience: 'What have the kids been up to now?'
Me: 'The usual crazy but cute things they do!'
conscience: 'Like?'
Me: 'Like giving all of us heart attacks when they do headstands.'

Gusto has now learned how to pose for Photo Booth. Every day he has to have his picture taken. He comes to me and says, 'Tia Anna! Want picture. One. Two. Three. Cheese!' And so we run to the Mac and take pictures for around five minutes. I love the fact that he knows exactly when to disturb me. Yes, he bothers me when I am busy doing something, but he is too cute so I let him bother me. Téa is now into Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. The old movie. I think she got into it because Ada read the book and their mom downloaded the old movie. The old movie? Yeah, we find it better than the new one. And the songs are just perfect!

Conscience: 'It was your mom's birthday.'
Me: 'It was. We had wonderful food and gossip.'
Conscience: 'You said that Téa made your life hard.'
Me: 'Because she did!'

I don't want the public to see the video, but we ended up making a video for mom. See, mom just wanted some birthday cards from the three kids. But when I asked Téa to make one she said, 'Let's make a video!' I told her she was making my life hard. And she replied by saying that she was just making my life nicer. What a kid! I crammed the video and showed it to mom on her birthday. She loved it! Later that day, we ate out and had some ramen. We also had tempura ice cream. I think the kids made mom most happy that day. ^_^

Conscience: 'Let's talk about--'
Me: 'I forgot!'
Conscience: 'Growing old much?'
Me: 'Ada lost a tooth!'  

Ada lost a tooth! Yes, this is big news because this means that she really is growing up. The funny this is that she made a letter to the tooth fairy. She asked the tooth fairy for a toy. And then said said something like, 'Please also take me into the cartoons!' I laughed out loud when I heard that one! I guess she is so into cartoons because she just loves Adventure Time. When her parents explained to her that the tooth fairy had limited powers and could only give out money, Ada said, 'Oh, how foolish of me!'

Conscience: 'How are your friends?'
Me: 'What friends? But seriously, they are doing awesome.'
Conscience: 'You miss them.'
Me: 'Terribly.'

Jhamz does not have any WiFi at the moment. I have no been able to talk to her for about a week or two. It already feels like I have not talked to her in months! JM and I bug each other if we catch each other online on Facebook. Jani and I are constantly bothering each other in a totally friendly way. I bug her more than she bugs me. And I have to remind myself to make her birthday gift already. Ohmygawd. Camille! Camille is one highly creative person. Do not mess with her. I need to see her soon to come up with more crazy ideas. Maybe on the 22nd. Maybe.

Conscience: 'Well, that's all for now.'
Me: 'Wait!'
Conscience: 'What's up?'
Me: 'Miss De Villa watches Newsroom!'

She totally made my day yesterday! She asked the class to write some article and to submit it by twelve noon. All the other students left the classroom. Char and I stayed behind as we had to talk to her. After talking to her I suddenly blurted out, 'Miss De Villa, do you watch Newsroom?' She said, 'Yes!' And I shit you not when I say that I literally shrieked with joy! Miss De Villa laughed and said, 'I wait for a new episode every Wednesday!' And I was like, 'Ohmygawd. This is too awesome.' 

I guess that's how my life has been lately. Too awesome.

Welcome Exhaustion!

Allow me to talk about Exhaustion again.

Hello Exhaustion! Why must we meet again? Things actually improved for a few months and then they are back to that state of being so tired. The weird thing is that you have come back in so many different forms and have manifested yourself in so many different ways. It is getting rather annoying already. Yes, I am annoyed that I have to deal with you again. Before, sleep would be enough for me to say good bye to you for a few hours. Yet now sleep does me no good and I resent that fact. So maybe this is more that just physical Exhaustion.

I met you, Exhaustion, through some people. I had totally forgotten about some person already when I noticed that I had not seen the person on my Facebook news feed. I clicked and clicked until I found out that the person had blocked me. Instead of getting annoyed by the action of the person, I literally laughed out loud. I knew that it was only a short time before the person either deleted me as a friend or blocked me. I was just waiting. Because of what the person did by blocking me, I was reminded again about how tired I was with the person's meddling in my life. Exhaustion, you reminded me that sometimes it is good to get tired of a person and let the person block me from their life. 

So Exhaustion when do you plan on visiting those people who constantly bug me and my family on weekends? Well, my parents do not even think the people are bugging them or messing up our weekends. But I know better than to act like I like those people who seem to have taken over my rest time, my me time and my limited time with my parents. Take for example my plans for yesterday. I had to go to the dentist and really wanted to go to the derma to treat my chicken pox scars. I got to go to the dentist. But the derma? Hell no! I had to rush home and attend to those people. Like seriously, I have to be ugly just because those people need to vent to my parents. Oh please. Exhaustion, please spread your virus to those people and let them be so tired of the issues they constantly have to vent out to my parents.

I keep encountering you, Exhaustion, when I go to college from Monday to Friday. You show up when unreasonable professors dump tons of papers and assignments on the students. You show up when group mates choose to cram, forget their brains and bicker with each other. You show up when one block takes something so seriously and another block does not. You show up when plays have to be done, conceptual papers must be written and t-shirt designs must be submitted on the same day a video must be given in. You show up unannounced when six hour vigils are a must and watching WNCAA games determines whether you get clearance or not. You show up when retreats must not be overlooked and weekends postponed because of too many school related activities to do. 

And I go home every day only to see you at my home. Who invited you in? I guess you are some kind of ghost who creeps in without warning. I long to lay my heavy head on a pillow, but I have to play with children, eat some dinner, cram more school work and chat with friends I refuse to take for granted.  Instead of resting I choose to let you take over my life by watching Newsroom, Switched at Birth, Sherlock and so many more TV shows. I choose to call my friends at odd hours of the day to rant about how miserable I am without my eight hours of sleep. I also choose to take the kids to the park just because I need to air my brain.

So maybe Exhaustion I have actually invited you into my life. I have let you come in to stay because you make me feel like I am busy and needed. You make me realize that for the rest of my life in media production I will be living you out. I will not be meeting you, Exhaustion. I will be you. I will be exhausted. And this Exhaustion I am feeling is nothing compared to being Exhausted in the future. There may be days or even weeks in which sleep will be a word I no longer know. And I will be dependent on coffee for the rest of my life. 

This is strike two! Yes, the second time we meet again, but this time you will stay. And also this is the second family member you have taken. The first person you took was papa. He rarely sleeps at night. And if he does that means he is ill or has jet lag. Papa takes at least one cup of coffee a day. On Sundays when he has to wake up early he takes three. When he is awake at night he spends his time writing and reading and thinking up of new ideas. And that gives me hope that even if he suffers from Exhaustion he is still productive and creative. If Exhaustion and later on being Exhausted is what it takes to spit out amazing ideas, I'm all for it!

Hello Exhaustion, you must be here for good. 

P.S. I also understand that most people have got it worse than me. I should stop complaining.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

A Trip To The ER

August 28, 2012.

I woke up that day feeling weird. How weird? I wanted to throw up, but I had no fever. My stomach felt so empty, yet I was not hungry. Something was telling me not to eat or drink anything. I checked my phone. It was 7AM. I ran to the bathroom, knelt down before the toilet and threw up. I felt somewhat better. I passed time reading some books and watching some TV before putting on my uniform and walking to school. Yes, I walk to school because I live a street away from the school. I was already at the grade school entrance when I felt the need to throw up again. I walked back, but before I reached the house, I threw up on the sidewalk. I am so sure that those people who saw me throw up thought I was drunk. I ran home to wash my mouth. I walked back to school. My legs were giving way. I walked back home. That was at 9AM.

As soon as the yayas saw me they told me to stay home and rest. I was sweating like hell, felt really cold and weak. My brother saw me and proceeded to take my temperature. I still did not have a fever. The yayas wanted me to go back to sleep. I was all set to protest, but my body needed rest. My brain kept telling me that I had to attend my next class at 12:30noon because I already had three cuts in that subject. There was also going to be a quiz and I had to practice with my group for some stupid play. I sent some text messages to people telling them that I would be attending the next class. Little did I know that I would be in no condition to go to school the whole day.

I couldn't sleep well. I kept waking up to crawl to the bathroom and throw up. I had no idea what I was throwing up because my last meal was the day before. I finally got my body out of the bed at 12noon. Some dumb cartoons were on which I forced myself to watch. I was all set to go to class when I drank water and threw up some more. I text messaged my brother and said something like, 'Manong Simon, help!' He told me to rest and to drink Gatorade. Manang Rina came home. She mixed me some water with salts. Tasted awful! Drank it. Threw up. And then got taken to the ER.

After all the papers were signed and I had a little bed, the nurse came in with a needle to poke me with. They had to poke me twice. One poke to get blood. Another poke for the dextrose. The nurse took a look at my vein and said, 'It's so small.' I nodded my head, grabbed the side of the bed and looked at the pictures on Manang Rina's iPhone. And for some reason, it hurt like hell! I tried to distract myself from the pain by checking out the pictures, but no matter what I did, I ended up yelling my head off! The nurse kept pushing the needle. I kept yelling. And my vein collapsed. 

I remember the nurse telling me, 'Don't panic! We don't need you to have a panic attack right now.' I didn't care! A girl nurse came in to take some blood. That one did not hurt, but I clung to Manang Rina for some strength. I didn't dare look at the needle and the blood. I just wanted to sleep. That girl nurse went out and in came the nurse who made my vein collapse and a doctor. I needed the dextrose. They got my right hand. The doctor took a look at my veins. Went out. And he came back with the tiniest needle he could find. I leaned my head on Manang Rina's chest the whole time the doctor was poking me with the needle. After what seemed like an eternity, the dextrose thingmajig was up and running.

Maybe I got too tired from yelling and crying for I fell asleep as soon as all the doctors and nurses left. I have no idea if the medicine made me so groggy, but Manang Rina said I fell asleep. Next thing I knew was the yaya was waking me up telling me to pee because the doctor had to do some tests on my pee. I nodded my head and went back to sleep. When I woke up, the doctors were already telling me that I had gastritis. I took the papers they gave me and realized that I would be suffering from that sickness for the rest of my life. Paid the bill and left.

It's been about a week and a few days since that trip to the ER. I can still see where the doctors and nurses poked me with needles. I get annoyed when people touch my hands or squeeze them for my veins still hurt like hell. I am getting used to the fact that I cannot drink whole gallons of coffee and Coke. Been trying to get myself to eat on a regular basis. And I also have been telling my brain to poop on schedule. I carry around medicine with me just in case my body decides to mess with me again. I watch what I eat. I don't stay far from home. I am more careful.

And this was a crafty reminder that my body is slowly returning to dust. 

* Ah, yes. I totally forgot to mention that I was traumatized by needles when I was 2 years old. How bad is it? I have slapped doctors because of my fear.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

A Six Hour Vigil and Assumption Tarts

Conscience: 'What finally made you go to the six hour mass vigil which started at around 2:30pm and ended at 8:30pm yesterday?'  
Me: 'My wonderfully witty niece named Ada.' 
Conscience: 'She is brilliant!' 
Me: She got me to feel guilty. I hate that feeling.'

Who wants to be bored for six hours? I ran around the house yesterday yelling, 'I hate six hour mass vigils!' Somehow Ada heard me and said, 'That's like saying that for six hours you hate God.' And I was so taken aback by her statement that I decided to go to the six hour mass vigil even if I wanted to go back home and sleep. The more I thought about her statement, the more it made sense. And so I had no choice but to make my way to school and participate in the six hour long prayers and mass and singing. The main reason I had to attend the vigil was because I intentionally skipped my year's general assembly. I think I was so hungry that day that they had it and they had it at lunch tine. So I skipped it. When I got my clearance for midterms, the lady told me that because I skipped the general assembly, I had to attend the vigil. And I was like, 'Bring it on!' Because really, anything is better than attending a general assembly in which you have to act nice to strangers who pretend to like you.

Conscience: 'Why did you not want to go?' 
Me: 'Wh would want to go?'  
Conscience: 'No, really.'  

Like, who would seriously want to be in a vigil for six freaking hours? I am not a Catholic so I do not know anything about vigils, confession and everything religious! I get scared out of my wits when the priest asks us h confess and I sit there not knowing what to say. I get embarrassed when the whole chapel is singing some song that only I do not know. And let's just say that doing religious stuff is so awkward for me. As much as possible, I try not to get involved with any religious thingamajig. Also, I am just the laziest student you will ever meet. 

Conscience: 'So what happened?' 
Me: 'Terrible, exciting and wonderful things!' 
Conscience: 'Huh?' 
Me: Terrible, exciting and wonderful things!'

Let's just say that for every event during the vigil the students had to sign in and sign out. Funny thing was that I only got my slip of paper where they sign in and sign out after everyone else had signed in. Naturally, the sign in station was closed by the time I went there. So I just went along to the sign out station and explained my side. The officials looked at me with the how-the-heck-did-that-happen-but-we-are-scared-to-get-mad-because-you-look-scary-and-you-speak-well look. They signed my sign out thingamajig and I proceeded to the next event. 

I did not enjoy the vigil, but I enjoyed the photography workshop and the mass after. A photography workshop in the middle of a vigil? Oh yeah! Although I had one semester of photography, I loved the workshop because it was conducted by a professional, but self taught photographer. She was funny. She was human. She had lots of heart. I like professors like that! Why did I enjoy the mass? I actually enjoyed the mass because the ending was perfect! 

Conscience: 'What's with the picture of a tart?' 
Me: 'That was the highlight of my day!' 
Conscience: 'What is it?' 
Me: 'That is the famous Assumption Tart!'

Yes, that is the famous Assumption Tart! I say famous because my mom has been bragging about those tarts ever since I can remember. Mom gushes over those Assumption Tarts like it's a crime if you haven't tasted them. After the mass, the principal who is a nun gave a little speech about how happy she was that we all showed up. We were clapping and all when she said something like, 'Free Assumption Tarts for all!' The more we cheered! And that is how I ended up tasting my first Assumption Tart. 

The funny thing is that it was pouring outside and I had to walk home. That was at around 8:40pm. I had an umbrella, but the rain was strong and I refused to eat my Assumption Tart until I got home because I wanted to take a picture of it. Why? I wanted to show my mom that I finally had tasted it! I was so careful that the rain did not get to it. When I entered the house, Ada and Téa ran to greet me. And they were like, 'What's that? Assumption Tart? Can we have it?' Good thing their mom told them that they could not have it. =) 

I text messaged my mom at 9:04pm yesterday and said, 'After almost seven hours of mass and vigil, the nuns rewarded us with Assumption Tarts! They taste good!' I guess my mom was happy that I went to the vigil 'cause she replied with, ' Hahaha. The Lord will hound you wherever you go and reward you with more than Assumption Tarts!'