There are nights when I just listen, over and over again, to sad songs that might or might not make me think of him in two months’ time. I wonder if it was worth all the trouble, if all the emotions and time I invested won’t go to waste, because I have this nagging feeling that one of days, one of us will just quit. And it doesn’t help that that the things we shamelessly tell one another sound like they were taken from romance pocketbooks.


O kay tagal din kitang mamahalin…
- Burnout, Sugarfree

Woke up at 8 AM. Had breakfast while watching the National Geo. Read a book for an hour. Took a bath with the TV switched on (the upcoming US Presidential Elections, featured in CNN). Went to Ayala for a job interview. Went to Greenbelt 3 for a Green Tea Frappuccino. Headed home. Read more. Went online.

I so love life.

Kay bilis kasi ng buhay, pati tayo natangay
- Burnout, Sugarfree

* * *


BUDAPEST, Hungary (Reuters) -- A Hungarian TV hostess sat naked Wednesday to announce she is running for a seat in the European Parliament as candidate of the upstart Union Party.

http://edition.cnn.com/2004/WORLD/europe/02/26/offbeat.hungary.naked.reut/index.html

I have to submit this stupid diary that records the things I did in my internship in the Philippine Daily Inquirer. I did not log in my entries while I was still doing my OJT, so I have to write all the entries now. And I can't think of anything to write. It's so hard to write the same things over and over again.

* * *

I was riding the jeepney a while ago, and good God! Collective Soul's Run was playing on the radio. I thought the radios in jeepneys only exclusively play songs by the Sexbomb dancers, April Boy Regino and what have you.

* * *

I have so many requirements to finish, and I'm taking all the time in the world before I start on them. Pero feel na feel ko na ang pagga-graduate ko, I've been sending my resume to all sorts of companies. There was a job expo in Greenbelt 1 yesterday, and I just dropped copies of my resume in all the pidgeon boxes possible. I've been checking the classified ads section in all the newspapers I encounter, and I signed up in all those websites that help you look for a job. I'm not even done revising my thesis yet!
My friend told me, masyado daw ako nagmamadali. I don't think so. We should be applying months ago. When's the perfect time? Summer? When gazillions of other graduates are also looking for work?

Notes to self:

1. Love the company you keep when you’re alone.
2. Read the newspaper everyday. Imagine all the information you can get with your eighteen pesos.
3. Read the Bible. There’s a reason why the Bible is called a library.
4. Pray. (I used to believe that writing or talking to myself could be considered praying. Maybe it would be different if I really prayed.)
5. Before spending your money on those expensive books you’re not sure if you’ll really finish reading, hit the encyclopedias first. Read about Communism, Margaret Thatcher, Adolf Hitler, Taoism, Japan, Switzerland, The Latter-Day Saints…
6. Or better yet, read about the things you think you already know: The Roman Catholic Church. The history of the Philippines. Ferdinand Marcos.
7. Music is not something you just listen to.
8. Don't say sorry for things you don't think you have to feel sorry about. Sometimes Filipinos are easily offended, merely stating your opinion can hurt their feelings. There are times when you don't have to apologize.
9. It's really okay to change your mind.
10. If someone compliments you, just say 'thank you'. Don't go through all the BS of pretending you don't deserve being praised.

You wear nothing but you
wear it so well
tied up and twisted
the way I'd like to be
For you, for me, come crash
into me

I had to print four copies of my stupid thesis.
And guess what happend to me...

1.) My ream of bond paper is nowhere to be found. (As I found out, my sister put a lot of her stuff on top of it, that's why I can't find it.)
2.) I had to replace the black cartridge, as it's already empty. Spent another few minutes looking for the cartridge I bought that afternoon.
3.) Printer crumples a lot of the pages. Had to reprint them.
4.) I kick the glass I used while I was going from one place to another. Glass is shattered.
5.) The person I was talking to through YM suddenly doesn't respond. Maybe he fell asleep while he's still online. He does that sometimes. I do that too.

There are days when I don’t even walk past our front door, and there are also days when I travel from South to North and back.

6 AM – Cavite (our house) – Woke up
9 AM – Alabang – just passing by
10:30 AM – North Avenue, Quezon City – had brunch
12 noon – Kalookan
4 PM – still Kalookan – snack
5 PM – Cubao – went from one computer shop to another
7 PM – Alabang – Dinner
9 PM – Cavite (our house) – Surfing the net.

I was the average girl from the average school with the average grades. I tried to surround myself with things and people that I thought were special and extraordinary, in an attempt to mask the boring person that I really was. All I was made of were bits and pieces from the complicated books, films and people that I pretended I understood.
My best friend was an overachiever who, to me, appeared to be doing nothing but ends up being able to do everything—maintaining her exorbitant grades, managing the photography club, where she was president, being editor-in-chief of the school newspaper, catching up with Six Feet Under and C.S.I., and juggling the three semi-pseudo-quasi boyfriends she kept. But everytime I invited her to, say, a movie or something, she’s always available. Rumor was, while we commoners only have twenty-four hours to spend in a day, she had thirty-six. Either that or she never slept. Both had equal chances of being true.
My own semi-pseudo-quasi boyfriend Terrence was a psychological roller coaster ride who tried his hand on everything—writing, painting, music, business, sports—but really found himself inclined to nothing. He was the illegitimate son of a congressman who had the rare ability of being discreet about his many torrid affairs. He used his mother’s last name, but made very good use of whatever he could benefit from his father. He was raised by his socialite and former beauty queen mother, who daintily held her glass filled with Bailey’s Irish Crème while she rolled her R’s. She spoke in Español in every possible opportunity. So everytime Terrence is caught off-guard, a barrage of Spanish expletives erupts from his mouth.


will be continued

I want to buy the soundtrack of Mona Lisa Smile.

I'm into songs that sound old nowadays. Gives me the feeling of being in a black-and-white movie. Makes me do things in a slower, more luxurious pace. I try to turn the CD player on as much as possible.


* * *

Today's Notes:

1. Teenagers think that what they need is someone who will love them. What they really need while they're still young is someone who has the courage to teach them things they really have to know.
2. Memory, such an asshole. It distorts the way we view the past, takes away some things then adds a few, changes colors and shapes and names and numbers.
3. When I get a child of my own, I will not force him/her to sleep. I will let him/her have full control of his/her sleeping habits. The value of sleep is best realized when found out on your own.

Sometimes the wind blew our hair, which whipped our faces and hid our satisfied smiles, as we strolled around the state university, where he studied. Sometimes we would sit inside a fast food chain, staying long after we finished our burgers and fries. He would listen to his MiniDisc, singing softly, as I read a magazine. Sometimes we would stay at one of those coffee shops he hated, talking animatedly, making too much noise and getting too much attention.
Sometimes I thought we would last forever. Sometimes I felt we would end tomorrow or the day after the next.
And it was a Wednesday when I buried my face on his chest and told him I will never love anyone else. Maybe I was naïve then, for the possibility that 20 frappuccinos, 17 value meals, 10 restaurant bills and 4 movies later we were going to break up didn’t even cross my mind. He sold everything he owned, bought a typewriter and a guitar with some of his money, then saved the rest for his grand plans of following his hazy dreams. Before he left he told me his brazen stories of living the life of an impoverished writer slash musician, never knowing where life will take him next, never sure if he still has something to eat next week.
Sometimes I prayed for the phone to ring, so I can hear his voice roughened by the turbulence of his new and unpredictable world, by the turbulence of his own actions.