Truths part 2

I like looking at the postcards sent to PostSecret.

I like singing - in a choir, with somebody, in a karaoke bar, in the bathroom - but not when I have to sing in front of a bunch of people. Alone. With all of them gawking at (and listening to?) me. In those cases, I simply want to blend into the wall.

Friday is the worst day of the week. Traffic is bad, people are so agitated to have the work/schoolweek over and done with (never minding that some of them have to go to work/school on saturday still), and a lot of people just feel the need to randomly gush about their gimmicks or dates or what-have-yous, to the chagrin of those who get stood up or have nowhere to go but to get lost. Me? I hate the fact that I'd have to go all the way to Makati to attend a one hour class with a perennially irritated professor at the helm. If only he were a bit more cheerful or even mild in his ways, I'd have looked forward to seeing him in class.

Today is Friday.

We had dinner with Ate Issa last night and I think she's really great. And Angelo's so adorable - I've only seen him thrice but he said my name already last night! He said, "Ey-ah". Pretty good, huh?

Instead of reading Bernas' primer, I spent an hour this morning reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows for the fourth time (or was it the fifth?).

I've watched "My Sassy Girl" - the original Korean movie - eight (or nine times? ten?) times. I want to watch the Hollywood version next.

I like horses. I'm just afraid they'd kick my ass whenever I'm near their backside.

Last night, I dreamed about the sembreak trip Ten, Tin, Toi, and I are planning. We were off to the beach and I forgot to bring my swimsuits. I brought a formal gown and wore boots filled with puke. In fairness to me, I cleaned the boots (and my feet) and got rid of the puke before we actually left. And it all happened in my dream.

I'm home alone and hungry. Ate Memem and Ate Fey went to the Ob-Gyne so there's no one around to feed me. Funny. I don't even have an Ob-Gyne.

I should start studying for midterms now but I'm too hungry to move away from my salmon pink laptop.

Truths

I'm worried I might be afflicted with colon cancer or with something just as grave but I don't go for a check-up since I don't think I'm prepared to know just yet - that I am sick OR that I'm not sick and have been wasting my time and money thinking I am.

I have to keep my feet warm when I sleep or else they'd ache all through the night.

I have dogs and have had cats and other pets but I'm not (and have not ever) been so close to them since I have this constant fear that if I'd pet them for longer than 1 minute, they'd turn crazy on me and bite my hand off.

Up to now, I've been secretly wishing for a Chris Klein character (refer to his role in Here on Earth) to waltz into my life.

I don't really like my 17" widescreen salmon pink laptop since it's all bulky and heavy and... well, just cumbersome, never mind that it has great specs. But I can't part with it cause my stepmom might just kill me. Anyway, it's great for watching movies. And I think my stepmom's great.

Aside from about 10-15 people I personally know (some of whom are my friends), I don't give my blog's url to those other people who know me because such would then restrict my writing. I'd much rather have total strangers reading my blog than having those I get to see everyday discovering my lines.

I don't put sugar in my coffee. I put a chunk of Toblerone instead.

I like memorizing footnotes although I don't really remember the main entries.

I'm sleepy but denying it since I think it's too early to sleep. It's 12:48am.

perfect

Some loves are perfect though short, seemingly rash, and, in a way, illogical. These loves are perfect as they are and to extend them, to let the magic live longer than that brief glance, would corrupt them. Ultimately, their perfection would then be revealed as an over-rated fake - a stubborn and reckless, and sometimes even cruel, tryst romanticized into the one perfect true love of a lifetime.

Perfect love, then, to remain perfect, if only in memory, should never be allowed to last.

A lot of the things I know, I learned from Sweet Valley part 2

1. Harlequin dolls, though outdated, can still be great Christmas presents even to those people who claim they're too old for toys. But stick to those harlequin dolls which are magical 9e.g. they come to life at the strok of midnight and turn out to be dashing princes from a faraway kingdom). - (Sweet Valley Twins Magna Edition "The Magic Christmas" featured twin harlequin dolls/princes Dorin and... uh-oh)

2. Either Sweet Valley Jr. High books were not available in Manila when I was in my (bookworm-y) prime or I simply did not ask the saleslady for their whereabouts.

3. Nerds have always been at the bottom of the food chain.

4. In Sweet Valley, Halloween happens at least thrice when you're in second grade. Christmas happens a lot more often. And you can celebrate your birthday five times in a year and you will still be 16 years old.

tight-lipped

[Create message]
Hi babe. Good morning! Hope you have a great day ahead... :)
[Message sent]

I woke up with you on my mind. Are you awake? Have you eaten? Are you going to be late for your class? I wonder what your thoughts are upon waking up. I wonder how it would be like waking up in the morning and finding myself beside you. I think that would be quite nice. And just the thought of looking at you while you sleep, hearing you snore noisily while I'm attempting to hide a chuckle, and kissing your cheek good morning bring a smile to my lips.

[Create message]
Hi babe. Wala lang. I think I did well in my first class today. :)
[Message sent]

Snippets of good vibes. News about my life. However small some joys could be for me, I enjoy sharing them with you. It's not that I'm bragging - small nods from professors aren't really an awards-night experience. But they make me feel good, positive, somehow. And I want to share that feeling - however ordinary - with you. I want you to be proud of me. I know I am not really an exceptional person, that I don't really excel in anything. I can't move mountains. I can't even say a paragraph's worth of sense. But I'd like for you to be happy that you have me. Yes. Happy.

[Create message]
Hi dear... Wala lang. I love you. Thank you for everything. :)
[Message sent]

There. I've said it, although there are a million more things I want to tell you, but I know you have other things to do and long messages - especially corny ones - aren't really up your alley. I can't help it, though. I'm a hopeless romantic, although I think some cynicism has already polluted my brain. I'm the walk-in-the-rain-under-the-same-umbrella type. I snort when our classmates get huge bouquets of assorted flowers from their men but it's usually just due to envy. I like simple gestures of affections: a surprise visit, a home-cooked meal, a peck on the cheek, a smile from you when we're among our friends, a gentle squeeze of my hand. These things live in one's memory as the scent of fresh blooms enliven springtime. But of course, I usually keep these ideas to myself. They aren't really up your alley.

[Create message]
Hi... Hmmm... Kinda sad. Wala lang. Take care always.
[Message sent]

There are times when I feel lonely. Alone. Sad. I'd like to talk to someone I trust and care for. Someone I know who'd care. I'd like to talk to you. I'm thinking of calling you up, sharing with you the story behind my sadness. Maybe I'd cry. Maybe I'd feel better almost immediately after you pick up. But I can't be so sure. I know you don't like it when I cry. You'd put down the phone and I'd be alone once again. And I'd want to call you up again but I can only do that if I stop crying. So I'd will myself to stop, wipe away the renegade tears, and force myself to forget my troubles. More often than not, the method works and I would immediately feel stupid for crying in the first place, although I think a part of me would still be crushed. My problems won't go away.
On the other hand, even if I don't get to cry, you might not want to talk - to me at the moment, or about my troubles. We both have a lot in our hands but I know you're busier than I could ever be. I should spare you the bother. And so I just send a generic message and hope you'd reply. If not, I'd blog. Or call my friends. Or just cry by myself.

[Create message]
Hi babe. Wala lang... I miss you. Wala lang.
[Message sent]

I want to talk to you. There's a lot I want to say. I want to be in your arms. I want to feel your arms.
But you might be asleep.
But you might be busy.
But I'm scared you might not want to listen.

a lot of the things I know, I learned from Sweet Valley

My professor in Political Law Review, Atty. Jacinto Jimenez, was dishing out lines from Macbeth earlier and ranting about kids not knowing Shakespeare's works nowadays.

I got kinda smug since I knew the lines he was reciting:
"Double, Double
Toil and trouble
Fire burn
And cauldron bubble."

Although, honestly speaking, I didn't learn it by reading Macbeth (but, yes, I do have a copy of Macbeth. And a Midsummer Night's Dream. And Julius Caesar. And Romeo and Juliet - of course. And... ahh. Just refer to my book shelves.). I learned the same by reading... dan-da-ra-ran! Sweet Valley Kids! I'm not so sure though if that was in Book 12 "Trick or Treat" or in another issue but, still, I learned a lot from the Wakefield Twins.

Contrary to what most people think, Sweet Valley books aren't at all useless (Refer to the Macbeth learning). In fact, I discovered the poem "Remember" by Christina Georgina Rossetti through Elizabeth Wakefield's diary (to those who don't know her, she's one-half of the Wakefield twins of Sweet Valley, the other half being Jessica). Now, I can't be too sure if that was Volume 1 or 2 of her diary.

The poem goes:

"Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more, day by day,
You tell me of our future that you planned;
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve;
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad."


The poem was recited by her then-boyfriend Todd Wilkins in the auditorium. He dedicated the poem to her since he would be leaving for Vermont a short time thereafter. And I remember having cried buckets of tears as I read the poem over and over and over again. Yeah, yeah. But c'mon! I think I was in sixth grade at that time! The twins' diaries were actually part of the Sweet Valley High books, by the way.

Ah. Let's go back to Sweet Valley Kids. Aside from lines from the great pillars of literature, the series teach young bookworms a lot about other matters, too.

Book 13, aptly titled "Starring Winston Egbert" gave me a quick lesson about the Indians and the history of Thanksgiving. In that book, the second-grade kids took part in the play commemorating the start of Thanksgiving in America. Jessica (my favorite twin) saved the day.

Tonsils may be taken out, as per Book 20, "The Twins Go to the Hospital". Once the operation is over, the patient loses his or her voice and it's a good reason to play Pictionary in the hospital room and eat ice cream.

Jessica's Snobby Club (I don't remember the book number), I think, was the first culprit to turn me against the idea of sororities and fraternities and "elite" groups. There, Jessica and her "snobby" friends formed the "Orchid Club", which was composed of those girls who had elaborate orchid pins/brooches or whatever you call them. None-owners of those pins may not join. Plus, the members may not run, play with other people, or do other things which entail association with non-members and prejudice the condition of the delicate orchid pins. Yes, the beginning of a sorority of sorts.

Another Jessica-centered book was "Jessica and the Spelling Bee". Jessica is not known as the smart twin - that's Elizabeth. But Jess was the one who managed to represent her school to the Spelling Bee. As she tried her damnedest to extricate herself from the said contest due to fright and insecurity, which was largely brought about by the jeers of her classmates about her having cheated her way to the Bee, Jess researched on hearing impairment. Then and there, Jess and I (hehe) learned about the stirrup - a small bone located in the middle ear (yes, yes. The same word refers to the loop which hangs from either side of a horse's saddle. This bone in the ear is shaped like the horse saddle's stirrups, hence the name.).

Spell it: Stirrup. S-T-I-R-R-U-P. Stirrup.

Sweet Valley. S-W-E-E-T V-A-L-L-E-Y.

That's it for now, children of the 80's and 90's. More about the Wakefield twins and their series next time.

from the penthouse, looking down

Paranoid. Scared. Quick-tempered. Weak.

But I am not less of a person just because I'm all these and more. You try to change me - for the better, you say. You try to rehabilitate my ways: render gentle my tongue, curb my language, do away with my choice of clothes. You want me to stop fumbling with my answers and my logic by reminding me over and over again that I just don't respond the way I am supposed to.

With these means, yes, I do realize my flaws. But instead of successfully overcoming them all, my pride shatters into smaller pieces with each blow. I draw myself deeper into my shell.

You may prove everyone right. I may fail. Badly. Terribly. With these wounds to my pride, I lose all the remaining respect I have for myself, if any. Each day, my spirit falters and try as I may to push myself upwards again, my arms fail me. Your words drag me down.

I'm on the brink of falling - all 23 floors down.

Just let me save myself.