We’ve come a long way.
[BGmusic: Leave Your Lover by Sam Smith]
I heard that a story is only complete when someone reads it. Or hears it. My stories (or quasi-stories) rest on the flat of my tongue, waiting for a ready listener. Some have been lying in wait for far too long, growing stale, and at times, rancid. This is an attempt to get some out of my system before they expire.
I see a group of kittens at the train station almost every morning on my way to work. The first time I saw them was a few weeks ago. They were a lot smaller then; today they’re in that awkward phase between kitten- and cathood when their limbs seem a little too stretched out for their tiny faces. The first time I saw them, they were wrestling with each other next to the siomai stand. I paused for a moment to watch and thought of taking a picture, but walked on because I didn’t want to call attention to myself. You’d have approved of that. A group of kittens is called a kindle. Did you know that? I think I may have read that somewhere, but I had to look it up.
Speaking of animals, I saw a cat lying peacefully on the road yesterday while I was riding the FX. It seemed dangerously close to the traffic, and I had to arch my neck to see how it could sleep through all of that noise. It was then that I saw the blood dripping from its ear. :’|
[BGmusic: Paperman by Christophe Beck]
There are few things more confusing to me than other people’s interest in myself as a person.
I say that fully aware of how self-contradictory that could sound, given the personal nature of this poorly-maintained blog. Just seeing the number of hits these posts get – whether it’s 6 or 56 – is enough to make me go “huh?” (Of course, I could just be getting hits from spambots peddling ED meds, but whatever, I’ll take what I can get.)
If just getting people mildly interested in this self-indulgent blog is enough to make me wonder what on earth I’m saying right (or wrong), then imagine how perplexing it is when people go out of their way in hopes of connecting with me – as a friend, romantic interest, dance partner, life guru, Pokemon master, etc. But it happens! In fact, that’s how a lot of my friendships start: some wonderful someone gets it into their head that I would be good company, and by the time they realize that I’m totally lame, we’ve already bought matching friendship bracelets and/or BFF broken heart pendants, and it’s too late for them to escape. Ha!
[BGmusic: Some Things Never Seem to F*cking Work by Solange]
Quote for the day:
Go (please stay), go (please stay)
Go if you want, I can’t stop you
Go if you want to
- Now I’m All Messed Up, Tegan and Sara
There must have been a time when you believed that you were someone worth going the distance for, otherwise you wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. Someone, once upon a time, had told you that you were special, that any man on earth would count their lucky stars to be with you.
Do you still believe in this – even after the hours, days, weeks spent waiting for that boy to text, call, show up; even after promises that didn’t stick and the feeble excuses and apologies that followed; even after being offered half a heart?
Do you base your worth on the rare moments when he accidentally tells you that he loves you, when your jokes don’t fall flat, when his voice and touch are soft and tentative? Do you think your value equal to the sum of the yellowing bruises he presses on your skin, the words that leave welts on your heart, and the times he’s looked away from the sight of you crying?
Or do you stand firm in the conviction that you deserve better, that this was a fluke, that this boy was just another bad experience to overcome, that a happily ever after is just around the corner? If so, what are your secrets? Where do you find resilience? How do you let go and walk away? Are you worth more than the meantime because you believe that you are, or is it just because it is so?
Please let me know.
I feel you, Pidgey. I feel you.
I was going to post something real today but I’m suddenly too sad to produce anything. I don’t know how those depressed artists manage it.
[BGmusic: Kodaline - High Hopes]
Quote for the day:
Music makes the people come together. Yeah.
Music mix the bourgeoisie and the rebel.
I haven’t updated in a while because my social calendar’s been unusually hectic. Now, however, it’s back to normal: I’m at home – totally alone, save for my dog – on a Saturday, and the world is in a state of complete peace and balance. Hello, blog! Hello, internet!
If you live in the Philippines, you’ve probably heard of the 7107 International Music Festival and the Malasimbo Music and Art Festival, or at least the former. Though I’ve wanted to go to Malasimbo since the first time I heard of it, I hadn’t planned on going to either festival this year since there was no way I could scrounge up enough money in time.
But my job has a funny way of getting on my good side when I’m this close to quitting, and I was given the opportunity to go to not just one, but both! Hurrah!
It would be easy to pit one festival against the other, but I’m not going to do that. Partly because my company was a media sponsor in the events so to do so would be bad taste, but mostly because I enjoyed myself in both.
The plan from the get-go was to go to 7107 with my brother, who is a huuuuge Red Hot Chili Peppers fan. I even begged for an extra ticket just so he could go. But – alas! – he suddenly remembered that he was going to climb Mt Pulag that very weekend. Thank goodness I had an old friend from Baguio who, when I asked her if she wanted to go, didn’t even bat an eyelash when she said yes.
[BGmusic: just my electric fan]
*this will sound like rambling because I am. Just woke up and am still lying down in bed, I just felt like blogging.
Quote for the day:
“Scratch any cynic and you will find a disappointed idealist.”
- George Carlin
For the longest time I’ve proclaimed my dislike for Valentine’s Day, and I know I haven’t been alone in this. You’ve probably all heard these sentiments repeated over and over again from all sorts of people, single or otherwise, and that’s because they’re true: Valentine’s Day is overrated, unnecessary, hackneyed, blah blah etc. Also, my favorite: if you really love each other you shouldn’t need a day dedicated to showing it.
But see, yeah, we don’t need Valentine’s Day, but it’s there! It’s a thing! Capitalists invented it so we can throw money away on flowers and teddy bears and chocolate, and at the end of the day, that’s totally okay. I mean, what’s wrong with making just a tiny bit of effort to make one day a tiny bit more special for your loved ones, eh?
[BGmusic: Once Upon a Dream by Lana del Rey]
Last Sunday, on the 26th, I turned 26, the last number before I enter the DREADED LATE 20s, when I am sure to shrivel up into the little old spinster I was always destined to be.
All in all, I had a great birthday. I whisked myself away to the beach, bringing along with me some high school friends for company, and we welcomed my aging with mirth brought about by:
It had actually been years since I had seen most of my high school friends. It goes without saying that they had changed since the last time we’d hung out, but then again, so had I. The thing is, in spite of how much we had shifted shapes, we were still recognizable underneath it all, still the same teenagers who had learned how to waltz, conjugate, and compute for the value of x together. We had taught each other how to play the guitar, speculated about the mysteries of sex together, comforted each other through the first pangs of heartache with candy and soda, and mucked around school like the kids we were, unashamed. And there we were, almost 10 years after graduation, still making music together, still turning to each other for comfort, still mucking around, refusing to act our age.