This is a pretty straightforward post. For context, see 2011: The Wishlist

1. Climb a mountain. Check! I didn’t get to go on the Pulag trip I mentioned because I got sick on that weekend [it was a good thing too, as the group I was supposed to go with ended up climbing in bad foggy weather], but in April my family climbed Mt. Taclang Damulag with some family friends.

2. More love! So many checks! 2011 was full of surprises. You know who you are.

3. Get published. Sadly, I didn’t even try. I did manage to finish some stories but I’m still relearning the joys of editing my own work. I also need to set aside a regular time for writing and make it into a discipline. Writing can be such a pain. In Dorothy Parker’s words, “I hate writing, I love having written.”

4. Tone muscles. I’m still skinny. Does that count?

5. Write songs. Apart from the nonsensical songs I sing to my family and dog, I have nothing to show for here.

6. Prepare a super-complicated meal. Omurice? This year I taught myself how to make omurice. And that… is not a super-complicated meal. v______v

7. Learn how to knit. Check! [At last! This list was starting to make me feel bad.] Anyway, so I learned the basics of knitting from ebooks and YouTube… and I also found out that I’m really not the sort of person who can do something like knitting for a long period of time. Cause knitting’s kinda boring. It pains me to say that because I think it’s genius in principle – using just two long needles to turn a ball of yarn into cloth – but I found that doing nothing but clacking away with needles for hours got me restless and existential and sad. I think it’s the perfect thing to do in front of a television or something, when your mind isn’t too active, but I don’t watch television. So. Yeah. Knitting’s bad for my mental health. But I’ll finish that scarf one day.

8. Visit a country I’ve never been to! Check! Cambodia was beautiful!

9. Learn a new instrument. …I’m a little better at whistling! Getting bongos next year. Or something. Oh, I actually did get a new instrument this year, but it was a new ukulele and that’s not what I meant when I wrote up this list.

10. Run more. :”>Let’s try again in 2012!!!

Verdict: I got 4/10. And yes, that number looks pathetic, but I am more than satisfied with how 2011 has turned out. It’s been a wild ride, and I’m walking away with a lot more than what can be squeezed into a single blog post, let alone a 10-point list. I can see myself, years from now, looking back on the past year with utmost fondness. You have made me glad, 2011, and you have given me cause to expect big things in 2012. Thank you.

Quote for the day:

“I find you stunning but you are running me down.”

- Ingrid Michaelson, Sort Of

On my last beach trip, my girlfriends and I dared each other to see who could walk the furthest into the water, up to the point where the aquamarine suddenly turned deep blue, where shallow water sharply dipped into deadly depths [insert ominous music: tun-tun-tuuuuuun]. The rules of our little game were simple: hold each other’s hands and walk, don’t swim.

So there we were, six girls looking for adventure in the great wide ocean, psyching each other out with our screams as we inched closer and closer to the edge of “safe” waters. Being the tallest, I reached the furthest, and would have gone further if it weren’t for my friends’ overdramatic cries for me to come back. I probably would have made it all the way to the deep, where I would be forced to scull, but to appease them [and, admittedly, also out of fear - some of my friends were calling dibs on my camera, cell phone, etc.], I turned around and swam back to meet the rest of them.

Sometimes, it helps to have someone screaming in your ear to stop before you do something stupid. But on the other hand, it is also these cries of concern and fear that keep you from taking risks and possibly doing something worthwhile. It’s up to you to recognize if it’s time to humble yourself and listen or if it’s time to be stubborn, ignore the voices that tell you “no”, and go deeper.

So tell me, what time is this?

Quote for the day:

Oh, my weeping willow,
Let your leaves fall and return,
Oh darling, the seasons are your friend.

- Sia, Death by Chocolate

You know what I need right now? I need me some perspective. If I could, I would schedule a rendezvous with myself[/selves?] at ages 11, 13, 18, and 30.

We’d meet up at a pizza place, because, you know, everyone likes pizza. 11-13 will have pepperoni while I look on in disgust. 18 will be awed by my ability to abstain from land-animal meat. [That's all I have to impress her. But more on my underwhelmingness later.]

11 likes to break out into Andrew Lloyd Webber songs when she thinks no-one is looking. She daydreams of running away to the wilderness; of shrinking herself and riding her pet hamster James like a horse; of waking up one day with superhuman abilities; of gatecrashing teddy-bear picnics. 11 knows everything in the world yet has experienced nothing. She feels perpetually underestimated by grown-ups, and will be determined that her opinion – solicited or otherwise – be heard. She will comment on 18’s graphic t-shirt: “I don’t get it.” She will like my hair. And we, the weather-worn, will look at 11, see her self-awareness and misplaced sense of invincibility, and envy.

Except for 13. Frizzy-haired 13 will kick 11 under the table for butting in. Ah, 13. I will pat you on the shoulder and whisper in your ear, “Lighten up dear, everything will be okay. This will pass.” And 13 will look up, see what she becomes in ten years, roll her eyes and sigh. I will try to impress her with how cool I’ve become, then quickly realize how insufficient [read: lame] my deemed coolness actually is.

She won’t be the only one disappointed with me.

18 will be disconcerted at my appearance. She will sidle up to me and preach, unblinking, “23, remember the height from which you have fallen. Remember what I stood for. Remember my optimism. You can deal with this the wrong way and destroy yourself in the process, or you can do as you did when you were me, and build yourself from the heartbreak and grow. Remember being alone but unlonely. You can be that again.” I will try to keep my voice steady when I say, “You don’t know where I’ve been, 18. You have no idea how hard it is to…“ Then, right when our eyes begin to well up, 13 will disrupt the conversation with a loud OMG-I-can’t-believe-this-drama sigh, and we’ll quickly change the topic, proceeding to gush about boys while 11 and 13 make retching noises.

30 does not gush about boys, but will be amused by the conversation at the table. We’ll all want to know: What does she do? Is she married? Does she have kids? Pets? But 30, like most imagined future versions of selves, will hold back on the spoilers and not entertain these questions. She will say that she has seen the world, knows what she wants and is on the path to getting it. As I will have done with 13, she’ll reassure me with a “don’t worry, you’ll get there.”

Recently, I learned that the root word of education is educere, which means “to bring out.” Real learning isn’t about putting ideas and skills into someone, but fleshing out the muck to reveal the whole human being underneath. And I wish that this process can be pleasant and smooth-sailing all the time, but I now know that a lot of it involves painful pruning.

I sometimes think that this post-formal-education period has been my lowest, that I have devolved, that I have drifted off-course, and as 18 might say, fallen. But a week ago, a friend of mine told me that I had grown a lot since our first meeting a couple of years ago. I don’t see it, of course, but I hope that he was being sincere and that he’s right.

Some people don’t need a lot of pruning, some can flourish wherever they are put. It would save me a lot of grief if that were true for me, but obviously that’s not the case. I grow slow and not-so-steady, but the bottom line is this: I grow. I need to accept this season, because what if this mess is what I need to bring out the real person?

Quote for the day:

Miss Stubbs: “You seem to be old and wise.”
Jenny: “I feel old. But not very wise.”

- An Education

So another month just came and went and I have nothing on my blog to show for it. Yet again. =|

What could have happened in just one month anyway, right blog? Thirty-one days isn’t a lot when you think about it so you couldn’t have missed out on a lot, right?

Wrong! Haha! A lot has happened!

For example, just last weekend I taught myself how to knit.

Clockwise, from top-left: learning via ebook; step 6 – you can’t see it here but my manual was congratulating me for making my first stitch – yay?; a tangle – the point when I had no idea what I was doing and had to consult youtube; my many failed attempts; a little progress and my ripped jeans; my most loyal companion helping out by lying down on my ball of yarn.

Why knitting? I can’t really say that I decided to take it up on a whim, since learning how to knit is on my 2011 wishlist, but apart from the reason I put there [just in case I grow up to be that creepy old spinster I need the knitting to make my whole character more creepy old spinsterish], I have nothing much. I’m sure I could force a metaphor in here somewhere but I’m not in the mood for metaphors. I just think sometimes it’s good for your soul to do things just because you can. As someone once said: “Try everything once, except incest and folk dancing.”

Aside from taking up a hobby – a totally useless one, considering that I live in the tropics and everything… well, a lot has happened. So much that I don’t know where to start, so I just won’t. Let’s just say that August was… interesting. Pivotal.

So there. Hello, -bers. May these last four months of 2011 be kind to us all.

Quote for the day:

“I’d be lying if I ran away, and so I’ll stay.”

- Greg Laswell, I’d Be Lying

I know, I know. Where have I been?

Honestly, I don’t know where to start, so I’ll just back to the -ber months, primarily because as months go, they’ve been pretty interesting.

And emotional.

Let me illustrate with my stupendous paint skillz:

[I forgot to label the axes but obviously x is time in months, and y is happy points.]

Point A: When I started losing things, literally and figuratively. I’d elaborate but… no.

Point B: I am tremendously thankful for that sudden spike in my graph because I thought October would be the end of me. It’s a funny story actually [no, not really; it's amusing at best ] – I found myself in a high-school-esque crush for the first time in eons. I have long missed the feeling of new crush – the impossibility of feeling vulnerable and invincible at the same time: one moment you’re soaring high, the next you’re damning your heart to the depths of Hades for what it wants—-*dramatic toss of the head* DAMN YOU OH HEART OF MINE!!!

I think I should point out that I’m already growing out of this state of twitterpation, but because of you, dear Boy-Who-Must-Never-Ever-Be-Named, I now have high hopes for the future [see upward trend of my December projection]. Just the knowledge that there are guys like you still out there is enough to keep me going for another season or two. Thank you, Boy-Who-Must-Never-Ever-Be-Named, for making me see good things in the world again.

* * *

P.S. Seeing that this is my first update in far too long, I know that this post should be a little longer. But see, as you can probably tell, the lack of practice has made me lose what little connection I used to have with words. This doesn’t feel natural anymore. It is sad, but I will continue to fight the good fight against the powers that be [i.e. my not-so-inner sloth and The Day Job].

P.P.S. I don’t want to make yet another apology to my blog, but I think one has been long overdue for the state of neglect I have put it in. I have no excuses, just this one ’sorry’, and the most sincere ‘I’ll be back soon’ that I can offer you.

[BGmusic: La Vie En Rose by Louis Armstrong]

Quote for the day:

“LALABAS NA TAYO SA EARTH!!!!!”

- little boy,
after takeoff on a plane from Manila to Davao

Many of you will be pleased to know that after months of searching, I finally have a job. Yes, friends, my six-month stint in limbo is coming to an end. I won’t tell you what company I’ll be working for and what I’ll be doing, because, you know, Google can be very dangerous in the wrong right wrong hands.

I’d like to tell you guys that I have spent these months finding myself, spending hours in deep meditation, coming up with ways to end world hunger, discovering alternative fuel sources, etc. But if this isn’t your first time here in my blog, you probably know that it is highly unlikely that I, the foremost expert in the art of Rest and Relaxation [take note: capital R's], have done anything worthwhile.

Sure, I have helped out with some miscellaneous projects for Campus Crusade… I won’t show you guys because really, I don’t think I’m proud of the fact that in my six months of bumming, I was only able to produce that much output.

But see, in between those days when I was busy doing nothing, I actually went out in the real world and went to several job interviews where I talked about how self-motivated I am, how dedicated I am to my work, and how I love learning new things [I know, kill me now]… I had so many interviews that eventually, all that self-praise went to my head and I actually believed it!

So I decided to learn something new! I really regret not learning any languages in UP [yeah, I took German10 but I forgot everything I learned], so… now I’m learning Japanese! Hurray for me!

Why?

• WAYNAT. Even the internet gets boring after some time, k?
• Wouldn’t it be cool to study in Japan one day?
• I learned how to speak Filipino in Japan! So it’s only makes sense to learn Japanese here in the Philippines!

FUN FACT TIME:

In my first two years of high school, I spoke hardly any Filipino because we had just moved back from England. Anyway, in my junior year, the lovely people at the Department of Education decided to ship me off to Tokushima in Japan for a week-long cultural exchange… thing. There were three other Filipino delegates, and I was worried that they wouldn’t want to talk to me because the kids at my school had a tendency to run away in horror when they found out that I spoke straight English [huhuhu... isso hard to make prens in da Pilipins]. So I literally forced myself to speak Tagalog, and when I got back to school after the conference, my classmates were like, “…haaaaa…?!”, all blown away by my slang-y but exponentially better Filipino. I do love leaving people flummoxed like that.

• Anime and jdoramas: no more bad subtitles!
• ULTIMATE REASON: Takeshi Kaneshiro is part Japanese, and he speaks Japanese! How cool is that?!

Anyway, I’ve been learning via the Pimsleur program for a while now, and I do recommend it for anyone who wants to learn a new language. And no, they are not paying me to blog this. [Ooh and guess what?! They even have Tagalog! My sister tells me our uncle-who-is-German is learning Tagalog with the Pimsleur program too, which is very cool (and cute) of him.]

I am proud to say that I now know how to tell my husband [and wife!!!] that I want to go shopping to buy a Japanese hat. Ho ho ho. Iz very cool.

The only thing is, the Pimsleur program only teaches you to speak and listen to Japanese, so I have to find another program to learn how to read and write. So if any of you know of an effective one, please, do recommend.

Aaaaand I have to wash the dishes now so I’m going.

Sayonara! [FYI: That's goodbye in Japanese - how cool am I?]

This has been Day 1 of my I-will-update-my-blog-every-day-for-a-week resolution!!!

Dear reader, do you know this movie?

Plot summary (from imdb.com):

When a young boy and his family don’t come one year to their holiday home, their household appliances… think their master might be in trouble. They decided that rather than stay where they are, they’ll try to find them. So beings a dangerous and amusing adventure through the countryside and into the big city. Written by Cynan Rees {cynanrees@hotmail.com}

If you do, good. You know what I’m going to be talking about. If you don’t, now you know.

Anyway, I blame this movie especially for my unhealthy empathy towards inanimate objects.

For example, I crack a mug. Most people would feel pretty bad for being so clumsy, but sometimes – not as frequent as it used to be, mind you – I actually feel sorry for the mug. I mourn over its loss of purpose in the world, and the part I played in its death… Then I quickly get over it, because one should only allow a modest number of moments of insanity in one’s life.

[This is why I don't name my belongings. A lot of people name their gadgets/musical instruments/etc., and I do none of that, it only makes me worse. I tried giving my violin a name  once upon a time but it didn't work out. So basically we're all no-name slobs now.]

Before I go on, let me give you a brief summary of my history with this movie.

[history]

In the late 80’s, TBLT came out. [A lot of Pixar guys were behind the release, which explains a lot. Don't even get me started on toys. Pixar has a lot of my issues to answer for.] I watched it sometime in the early 90’s, and it was so bizarre that years later, I thought I had dreamed up the whole thing. This all changed one pivotal day in the late 90’s, in a video rental place I forgot the name of, when the pre-adolescent version of myself saw TBLT’s VHS sleeve nestled in the bowels of the family viewing section. And I knew. Something in my heart and my head clicked. And I felt a little less alone in the world, knowing that it was all real. Well, almost real. [I think it's important to say that I didn't dare rent it and risk doing any more damage to my sensibilities.]

[/history]

So later on in the day, when I’m on my bed and reflecting on the many mistakes I mistook and feelings I felt and choices I choiced – but most especially the mug I un-mugged – I remember The Brave Little Toaster and curse it for making me so weird. And I feel good. Because at least I have something to curse.

Bow.

But wait! Don’t go! My story isn’t finished yet!

Recently, I had a TBLT moment of my own. See, around two months ago I lost my cell phone in Rizal, and everyone I knew told me that I should get a new phone. Get over it, they said. You need a number, they said. Your social life is going to die, they said.

And guess what? Being the tenacious heroine that I am, I didn’t.

I didn’t believe any of it. I didn’t heed their advice. Sure, I knew that the rational thing to do was to buy a cell phone and most importantly, get a new number – people do it all the time, how hard could it be? But somewhere deep in my gut was a faint glimmer of hope, a belief that my battered Nokia 3110 was out there in the wilderness of the Sierra Madre, crying out, “I’ll find you! As long as you believe, I’ll find you!” [By the way, I think it's only fair to mention that everyone was right - my social life... erm... what  social life?]

But I’m only human. After a month, I bought a new sim card, and I borrowed an old phone from my sister. And I put the sim card in the phone. And I turned it on. And you know what?

It didn’t work.

I didn’t bother to get it repaired.

IT WAS A SIGN.

The next day, my dad gets a call from Rizal – somebody had found my phone. [I like to believe that my phone found somebody, but... yeah... ehem... never mind.]

And so I waited for its return. And waited. And waited. I felt like Audrey Tautou in A Very Long Engagement. I hadn’t had this much drama in ages, and I was milking it for all that it was worth.

* * *

WAIT! STOP READING! PUT WHATEVER YOU’RE LISTENING TO ON PAUSE! AND CLICK PLAY FOR MAXIMUM DRAMA!

I Got You Babe Sonny And – Cher
FREE MP3 DOWNLOADS @ MP3-CODES.COM

Have you clicked play? Okay, you may carry on reading.

* * *

Last week on the fourth of July, it came back into my arms.

After two months of separation, I can go back to ignoring important text messages and phone calls. It’s such a beautiful feeling, so beautiful that I had to share it with YOU, dear reader.

So when you think you’ve lost something or someone important to you, and you’re losing hope because the chances of reconciliation is 1 in a bajillion… take comfort in the fact that 1 in a bajillion is still a chance [okay, maybe I should have used a real number for that illustration]. Sometimes it’s okay to be stubborn. Stand your ground. Be steadfast. And listen. To your heart, and to that voice inside your head that believes in The Brave Little Toaster. [Note: Most of the time you should tell it to shut up, it usually works for me.]

.

**Reader discretion is advised. The author is not responsible for any damages that may be traced back to this post.**

Quote for the day:

“The durian is a very Asian, non-individualistic experience. When you eat it, everyone around gets a little taste… whether they like it or not. BWAHAHAHA.”

- Kuya Phil, American and durian connoisseur
defending his right to eat durian in the van

Can I say that again? I’m alive!

I’m in Malaysia right now to bum around in a more exotic location help out at this conference my parents are attending, and at the moment enjoying the free wifi at our swanky hotel’s lobby.  I’m pretty much settled here in my little corner, but just a few hours ago, I was on…

THE SCARIEST FLIGHT I HAVE EVER HAD IN MY TWENTY-ONE YEARS!!!!! [Exclamation marks, capitalized & bolded letters needed to stress this point. Anticipate more of these.  Bear with me.]

See, our flight had been shaky from takeoff, but that didn’t bother me.  DQ can take a little turbulence, ’scuse me.

Our descent to KL – now that was a whole different bag of banana chips altogether.

Let me illustrate. Literally. [And be blown away with my MS Paint skillz.]

This is what a normal landing should look like:

This was what ours felt like:

If my art [heh] hasn’t convinced you of how frightening the whole thing was, you’ll just have to take my word for it.  It was the first time my whole body actually rose out of my seat, and it happened, like, three times.

So, what did I learn?

1. Never fly with [airline] again, if I can help it. [We're flying with them again next week to go back to the Philippines - d'oh.]
2. Tough times bring people together.  Ask my dad’s seatmate – she was clinging to his arm the whole time [note: we didn't know her - haha].
3. They [tough times] also push you to talk to God.  So me and him had a heart to heart. Went a little like this:
   “God, is this it? Is this really how I’m going to die – a fresh graduate, on plane crash on a perfectly sunny day? It’s a pretty pathetic way to go, and I guess that’s okay because I’ve lived a pretty happy life, but if you decide to let me live… it would be cool. Help!”
   At the face of death [or so I thought], you’d think I would have bargained a little better for my life, or at least prayed a prettier prayer, but that’s all I could cough up… Which brings me to my last point: 
4. Appearances and words don’t matter. No matter how crappy your prayer may seem, God listens, and always answers. [And I like his answer to this particular prayer.]

I’M ALIVE! Woohoo!

[P.S. I didn't actually scream. I just yelped. Once.]

Quote for the day:

“I’ve made a horrible mistake.”

- Gob, Arrested Development

Last week, I made the unpleasant discovery that the person I had deemed worthy of my bad poetry and daydreaming was, in fact… not.

See people, I have a disease.

I have pedestalectasis.  When I find someone… interesting, I have the tendency to fling them up on a pedestal and idolize idealize all their good qualities while pretending that the bad qualities aren’t really all that bad… these flaws only make them three-dimensional.  Then I find someone from film or literature to associate them to, so everything I don’t know or understand about this person is filled in and explained by their fictional counterpart’s traits and background stories.  So you can imagine what a mess I end up with when everything falls into shambles.

Eventually, [sometimes thankfully] I get a wakeup call.

Usually, it comes in the form of another girl on his arm [nuuuuuu!].  But in this case, it was… an unresolvable, intolerable clash of opinions. Taste is relative.  I get that. Good and bad taste is not, but it’s tolerable. Then there’s right and wrong taste, which is on a whole different level altogether.

Illustration:

Bad taste is tolerable: “So… you like Gokey…  *insert abrupt topic change here*”
Wrong taste is wrong: “You’re a Nazi?  Have a nice life.”

Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid that this was a big, glaring case of right versus wrong taste.  [No, he didn't tell me he was a Nazi but it was almost as bad, I swear.] And the sad thing is, I had been hung up on this poor schmuck for YEARS because he had *sigh* that Paul Varjak air about him.

I mean, come on.
PAUL VARJAK.

So now I am trying my best to dissasociate my ex-crush from one of my favorite films while at the same time attempting to avoid Moon River because it just makes me feel sorry for myself [avoiding Moon River is impossible - the song's everywhere].

To help me mourn and rejoice over the long-overdue death of this infatuation, I have set my eyes on Mr. Darcy. Paul Varjak is wonderful and everything, but he’s done nothing but fuel this silly crush for years. We need some time off.

I will blame Mr. Darcy for my next crush.  Bwahahahahahahahaha.
Strong and silent types beware. Rebound powers initiate!

Quote for the day:

Earl: *straight face* “Umiinom na nga ako ng rootbeer.”
Everyone: *hands in the air* “WOAAAAAAAH!” 

- Erik’s younger brother (age 6?)
telling us of his experience with alcohol

Yesterday I emptied out the bag I most recently used for school.

I fished out things I hadn’t seen since my last day [March 31]:

• my planner
• a highlighter [pink Faber Castell - I've been using the same highlighter since sophomore year]
• photocopies of four chapters for Econ161 [Industrial Organization]
• two notebooks
• a used [marked, and recorded] blue book
• a gluestick [never used]
• two mints
• my 7 peso backup ballpen

Gutting my school bag was like finally acknowledging the end of an era.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am officially educated, and come graduation day on the 26th, officially unemployed.

And I’m not going to beat around the bush, it’s scary as hell.

I have a good degree from one of the best schools in the country, okay grades, supportive friends and family, exposure to different cultures and people [hardly anything surprises me anymore], and twenty-one years of life experience.  You’d think that I would have everything figured out by now.

Alas, that is not the case.  Yes I’m well-equipped. But I have no idea what for.  It’s like finding myself in the middle of the ocean, sitting in a sturdy boat with enough rations to last me a lifetime, but for navigation [aha! We must not forget our actual destination!], I have nothing but a badly-drawn map, a broken compass, and perpetually cloudy sky.  And the waves just keep on coming.

Ah, the promise of adventure.

I see exciting times ahead.  Someone please hold my hand.