[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.

Quote for the day:

“In an mmmbop they’re not there.
Until you lose your hair. But you don’t care.”

- Hanson, Mmmbop

Last weekend I got a little taste of life on the other side of the generation gap.

I was in Laguna for this retreat my parents were holding for some military families, and was one of the oldest “kids” there [the oldest being my sister]. Because my mother kept insisting that I should make an effort to be sociable, I made myself look busy by sitting with my sister, who was socializing with some [obviously younger] girls.

Check out the dialogue:

Girl1: “OMG, you’re turning fourteen this year.”
Girl2: “Yeah, so are you.”
Girl1: “But you’ll be first. You’re sooo old.”
Me: *blank face*

It gets even better.

Me: “So what year were you guys born, 1994?”
Girl: “1996.”
Me: “Wha… you… before… Backstreet…” [Translation: "Exterminate. Exterminate."]
My sister: “You weren’t even born when the Backstreet Boys’ first album was released!”
Me: “You were babies when Mmmbop came out!”
My sister: “OH MY GAWD!”
Me: “MY BRAAAIN!” *explodes* 

You can leave out that last bit.

Then after that, my sister and I were holding-hands-while-walking-may-pasway-sway-pa, singing Mmmbop because given the circumstances, it seemed like the right thing to do…

Me and my sister: “Mmmbop… dapdoowop doowop.. YEAH YEAH… etc.”
Perplexed boy is perplexed: ”What are you singing?”
My sister: “OH MY GAWD!”
Me: “MY BRAAAIN!” *explodes* 

There you have it, I am officially old.

I can only hold onto the hope that one day this emo business will be over and laughed at by the next generations. Bwahaha.

Quote for the day:

“But when I think about leaving,
I think about losing
The only love I’ve ever known
Every time I think of you

My heart  starts aching
My hands keep shaking
And you know, you know, you know…

It would take a strong, strong [girl]
To ever let you go.”

- It Would Take a Strong Strong Man by Rick Astley
[sorry Raianne haha.]

Remember freshman year?

Out of tens of thousands of suitors, she picked you. Yes, you.

Remember that surreal and euphoric feeling you got during those first few months? For years you had thought of her as somewhat out of your league, yet there you were, by her side, asking yourself, “What on earth is she doing with a loser like me?  I can’t believe she picked me.”

You wonder when she’ll realize the error of her ways – that she made a mistake picking you. And she makes no demands, at least not out loud – she’s not that kind of girl. But you know that one small slip could result in the premature end to your love affair.

So you work.  You work to prove yourself worthy of her love, and you push your mind and body until you’re spent.

Sometimes, it pays off.  But the sad thing is, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes you just can’t offer what she wants. And you often find yourself crying over your inadequacy and cursing the day you fell in love with her and she with you.  Some days you just want to end it, and you probably would if only you had the courage.

Gradually, you end up neglecting her for other seemingly more rewarding relationships, only spending time with her every now and then, but only when you really need to. And only because you need her.

It’s only a matter of time before she tells you that it’s time to leave.

You always knew that this day would come. Only a chosen few end up spending the rest of their days with her.  A mere mortal like you would only be digging your own grave by staying any longer…

And as the day grows nearer, she grows more and more beautiful. And so you find yourself loving her in a way you couldn’t before.

It’s like you’ve fallen in love with her for the first time all over again, except this time you know her. You know the sound of her voice, her every curve and scar, her smell in the rain, and the way she looks in the moonlight and in the morning sun. And you know that you’ll always hold a place for her in your heart.

Why is that?

Why does she choose to be beautiful now, just when she knows it’s going to cause the most pain?

Why do you choose to love her now, of all times, when it’s too late?

Love.  Ain’t it cruel.

Senioritis is the pits.