:: Saturday, January 03, 2004 ::

Okay. DON'T FREAK. I moved to Livejournal. DON'T FREAK. This was a last minute decision. It's still Psychobabble, but in a different format. There's an explanation. See you there.


:: marbles lost since 12:31 AM [+] ::
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Just saw Tito Johnny and his girlfriend Tita Freida in the society pages of The Philippine Star. My grandmother actually squawked in surprise when she saw the photo. Hahahahahahahaha. An Alcazaren in a Johnny Litton photo-spread. Precious. I also want to point out that he was the only one wearing a shirt and jeans, a fact that made me smile when I first saw the photo. My grandmother, however, began kibitzing and showed my grandfather the spread. Then she began vocally worrying whether my uncle and Freida were really meant for each other. She began worrying that Freida was too social for my quiet artist uncle.

My grandmother's too stereotypical. Freida's not the prissy fashion magazine editor my grandmother fears her to be. She's nothing like what I expected, either. When I heard that my uncle hooked up with a fashion editor, I first thought that he had gone nuts. But then, again, I didn't get to meet her yet. When I finally did, she totally went against expectation. She's as maldita as a Sesame Street episode. She's an incredibly creative and independent person. Bagay sila. They really go well together, and one society page picture that drove my grandmother ballistic isn't going to stop them. Hear, hear.

Another grandparent-going-ballistic episode earlier:

We were having leftover roast chicken for lunch, and my grandfather went nuts over the consistency of the meat. So he made a huge show of bringing it into the kitchen, and whacking it beyond beyond beyond beyond senseless with the combination of a butcher's knife and a hardware store hammer. My grandmother was right beside him, arguing over the spots where he was supposed to whack away. They were pretty noisy for 12:30 in the afternoon. Me? I just remained in my seat and ate some pork and shrimp in peace.

It's actually a wonder why my grandmother hasn't stabbed my grandfather yet with a fork. He always complains about something at each and every meal. My grandmother actually braces herself for it every time. I always see that pre-conceived terror on her face while my grandfather takes his first bites. That's patience for you. But if that were me, I'd probably take the fork option. I'd depress myself if I knew that I remained patient every time my husband had a coronary over how flaky the fish fillet was.

Reason # 1,463 as to why I shudder at the thought of marriage.

:: marbles lost since 11:29 PM [+] ::
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Just got back from Megamall where I met Karl and Zha. We watched Bridal Shower again and then went around. The funny thing is, though we spent 6 hours in the mall, it was the five seconds I spent arriving home that stuck to my mind more.

My dad was outside, surveying the house's exterior. The tricycle decided to drop me off one meter away from him. He obviously saw me get out of the thing, and I just bolted for the doorbell, pretended to check my phone, and the moment the gate was opened, quickly slid in. I felt like I had just escaped some sort of catastrophe. That was actually the closest I've ever gotten to him in over 5 years.

Funny. And to think that I told myself earlier that what you don't say means so much more than what you do. I'm ticking this off as a Close Call.

:: marbles lost since 5:35 AM [+] ::
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2003.

This year went by so quickly that it has numbed me out. A milestone, the longest day of my life, a death, and a life. The opportunity to step out of everything and look at what I've done or what has been done to me.

January

Staging and hosting a mock Greek dating pageant that had the school fooled. Filming Zero, our very last ViCe movie. The season for opening even more doors. An important afternoon power outage. The time I realized that questions and eyelocks mean more and result in more than I ever thought they would.

February

A languid yet much pondered at afternoon that I will never forget. A trip to Cebu that resulted in both incredible victory (winning 2nd and 3rd at the National Schools Press Conference for English Editorial and English Feature) and incredible loss ( ).

March

The month marked with the thickest blood-red marker. My final 30 days on the mountain. The ViCe recitals. Eye-opening hook-ups. Launching my very first book. Graduating salutatorian. Drama during the final evenings at the dorm. And finally, graduation--that short, unforgettably manic day.

April

A painful, confused aftermath (including an uncanny mall mishap on the first day after the grad) that died down to a hesitant glow. Conducting a children's writing workshop that taught me much more than I was able to teach the kids.

May

Preparations for a new life both materially and emotionally. Surviving the longest fucking day of my life, which included that unforgettable rainstorm escape down a mountain, and an hour-long walk in the middle of a packed Calamba road. The time I thought that I had finally said goodbye to demons when in fact they were only just beginning to surface.

June

Slowly building up a new life in Ateneo while retaining my old self. An initiation that I handled better than I had feared. Great new friends. Meeting an old friend. And suddenly, shocking actions and shocking news that came close to tearing me apart.

July and August

The two months needed to have everything settle down, to recuperate from all the information. The two months sorely needed to make everything seem normal.

September

Turning legal in more ways than one.

October

A much-needed trip to Baguio, complete with strawberry wine and a run-in with drunken Koreans at midnight on Session Road (cor. Carlus St.). Road trip, bebe. Great sleepover with Merc and Anna preceding a visit to Makiling. A YFU reunion. And spending quality time with Catastrophe.

November

A very messy breakdown. A jarring crossing of paths at the CCP. The time I lost the most blood trying to hold my ground.

December

Recovery in Banahaw, a brand-new mountain. An academic nightmare that brought me close to snapping. Holidays that felt like they were wrapped gaudily for free at a Rustan's check-out line complete with pre-made satin bow.

This has probably been the most mixed year of my life. I've been slapped with opposing situations so frequently and quickly that it's no wonder it's so hard to sum it all up. If anything, I've jumped into everything, finally accepting that from that moment on, every experience was going to ask me more questions than I was willing to answer. And that, strangely enough, I wouldn't be able to answer any of the questions. Because who was I, in this bowl of nuts, to make a definite statement? Who was I, during a year that fooled around with what I've done and what has been done to me, to say anything?

2003 had me speechless. I ran blindly for miles, and I'm still busy catching my breath.

:: marbles lost since 10:07 PM [+] ::
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I just had one of the most unique wake up calls of my entire life. It gives more color to the saying, "start the day right." Riiiiight.

Tomorrow is the last day of the year 2003. Of course there'll be some sort of list.

My mom just walked in and gave me 2 mini-notepads on a chain. She made special front and back covers for them that have pictures of Oasis. Awwwwwww. I think my mom's an amazing graphics artist. Place her in front of a computer with a graphics program and she'll be having the time of her life in a second.

Zha's coming over in less than an hour. She wants to ask me some stuff for her paper on Dead Poets Society, but I know it'll be more of a catch-up session than anything else. Yay.

I'm not really one for new year's resolutions since I take things as they come. I can't promise myself certain things because I believe that you can't be consistent unless you knew every single thing that was going to happen in the future. How can you promise yourself to be a certain way or stick to a certain idea if you will never be aware of how you'll live in advance? And obviously you can never, ever tell what will happen to you in the future. Never. So what's the point? I think resolutions are just some bastard child of wishful thinking. It is a symptom of our belief that we can gain absolute control over something. But more often than not, that something's usually the one gaining control over us.

:: marbles lost since 9:45 PM [+] ::
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I don't know yet if I've found a kindred spirit, but I sure am counting on it. I haven't acted that warmly or openly around her, but she's recognized who I am and vice-versa. We've only seen each other twice, and so far I've come to like her. I hope she stays in the family longer. She'd make a great relative. I need her in the family. She's fresh and real. And I'm not just saying that because she's new around here. She doesn't seem condescending at all, unlike the past "new" members of the family. Because no matter how cool the past "new" ones were, they ended up--I'm sorry--but they ended up pretty twisted. This one seems more understanding. I honestly like her. (And I'm rambling positively--take note that I hardly do that when it comes to relatives potential or otherwise.)

A sign of hope? Dear god, I hope she is.

Saw Crying Ladies last night. Honestly, although it is a refreshing movie, I found Bridal Shower to be more solid fare, surprise, surprise. Better script, better characterization, to be honest. Check it out for yourselves, and make sure to catch Cherry Pie Picache's scene with the chocolate cake towards the end. That's some pretty good acting right there.

Went to Tagaytay to have brunch with the rest of the family at Antonio's. Got stuck in traffic, which led Whammy and me to finish our food in 15 minutes while the family reserved next at our table stared at us hungrily. Leisurely brunch at Tagaytay my ass.

We had more fun finding incredibly cheap stuff during our last-minute stop at HRM. And had more fun killing more time at Pioneer Center and the Jollibee branch there later on. Just goes to show it doesn't take an 80-peso cup of hot chocolate to find true happiness. I don't think it really will.

:: marbles lost since 6:04 AM [+] ::
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Merry Christmas, babies.

There's actually not much to say about this year's celebration since everything was basically the same. First, lunch. Then, the opening of presents by-family-by-age. That took around 3 hours as usual, because there were 7 sub-families or couples, with each member of the said sub-family or couple receiving at least 6 gifts. Now add all those minutes spent taking several digicam shots of each person holding each gift one by one. (Alcazaren Christmases are undoubtedly tests of faith.) Then, merienda. Then, that post-Christmas time-pocket where people just watch TV or sort out their gifts , then Scrabble with Whammy, then dinner, then the end.

Not much to say. Hmmmm...thinking...

Well, I think the gifts that really made me smile were the Spongebob boxers and the novelty lucky 8 ball.

Yeah.

:: marbles lost since 5:38 AM [+] ::
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2 hours left before Christmas. I'm home alone while my grandparents and other relatives are out for the mass, as usual. They've laid out the ham, but the entire noche buena has yet to be set up.

I wonder how the other ViCe are doing. I wonder how they're celebrating Christmas this year, if they're at home with the family, or out with friends, or asleep, or awake and alone. Either way, I hope they're not worried. I hope they're having a great time.

It's so hard when you don't know how people are doing. Texts, emails, and brief meetings are nothing compared to really being with them and witnessing or taking part in their lives. Back in grade school, I wouldn't have given a flying fuck what my classmates were doing. But after Makiling, I now wish I had some sort of screen that showed me how each ViCe is doing right now. How I would give anything to see us all in one room again, like we've done every day for four years, and something that has a fat chance of ever happening now or in the future. High school-period Christmases were always filled with something so solid. Now I just feel like I'm waiting everything out, and for something I don't even care to know about right now.

There's a reason why barely anyone cried during graduation. The sorrow was spread, idea by idea, throughout god knows how long a span of time.

:: marbles lost since 6:50 AM [+] ::
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Great get-together at Mars' condo two days ago. I braved my 3-degree fever and the chilly December air to take an ice-water nightswim. I think it helped cure me. Stuffed myself myself with food. Definitely had a hand at curing me. Beforehand, while waiting for the others to arrive, we spent an hour's quality time scanning through Von's porn stash. Hahahaha. Can't go to Mars' place without watching porn. And I think that partly cured me, too. So much for the ube.

Met Amanda yesterday at Megamall. We walked around, harrassed a few people behind store counters, talked, ate, and then attended the premiere of Bridal Shower. We sat behind the frigging cast. And yes, it was a very good movie. And like I've said a gazillion times before, I'll take a raincheck on writing a movie review.

But despite all the celebrating, it still doesn't feel like Christmas. It's Christmas Eve, and I feel nothing. This holiday season seems more like the dregs of last year's, at best. We even got this year's Christmas supply of balut from the Pateros Alcazarens, but still nothing.

It can't be because of problems, because I've had greater quandaries the past few years. It can't be because of holiday schoolwork because I've been assigned worse before. I really don't get it. And it honestly scares me to a point. I feel like I've been Zip-locked away from what's supposed to happen. And I sure as hell know that I'm not just some half-eaten sandwich.

:: marbles lost since 9:49 PM [+] ::
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Feeling much better but slowly losing my voice. Though I enjoy hearing myself get all raspy at times, I don't exactly want to be conversing in hand signals during the holidays.

Why is it that I lose my voice during important moments in my life? I think my most extreme case was during the senior retreat last year. We were doing all these stunts and I did it all with a fever and without a voice. In the harsh rain, I might add. The best part was probably when I jumped off a rope tied between two coconut trees thirty feet in the air. I screamed, but nobody heard me. They all just heard some air whistle from the back of my throat. Fine.

I'm meeting Amanda tomorrow! Yay, roommate! We're watching the preview of Bridal Shower at Megamall. Although I'm more for watching Crying Ladies later this week, I have to admit that the trailer for Bridal Shower got my attention. Sex is always a good (and important) topic for film. Always. :)

Listening to Ely Buendia's Monday Mundane, which is quite fitting. I woke up at 6:30 and couldn't go back to sleep, so I decided to go downstairs instead. I learned, sadly, that my bed was actually more exciting than the annoying quiet on the first floor. My grandparents went down thirty minutes later and started eating their breakfast bibingka just as quietly. Knowing that I had over 3 hours to kill before I headed off for the block party drove me nuts.

Damn it, it still doesn't feel like Christmas. I don't feel the season at all. This all just feels like some sembreak extender. I usually feel that special excitement people get only before Christmas, but now I'm just completely numb.

:: marbles lost since 3:57 PM [+] ::
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I'm a phlegm-faucet. I've been leaking goo for the past 12 hours and I don't like it. The block party's tomorrow and I will hate myself if I miss it. So will my other blockmates since I designated myself to pick them all up at the MRT. I have to get better tonight. I've been ingesting drugstore-loads of Decolgen and eating as much as possible. Hell, I've even finished an entire half-bottle of ube this morning while watching Almost Famous because I suddenly had this incredible urge to. I just had this feeling that eating all that ube would surely cure me. Well, I'm still leaking, and that bottle's been scraped clean of any purple left in it. Damn it.

It sucks to be sick when you're older. When I was a kid, I remember having the library especially fixed up for me, with a bed tray ready and the pillows propped up for ample TV-watching. My mom would always bring something really good to eat home, and would always check up on me every thirty minutes. Getting sick would be such an event. But now that I'm older, everyone just expects me to swallow a tablet or two after meals and stay away from them most of the time lest they get infected. And I don't think my mom even knows I'm sick. I don't think anybody told her, and she hasn't dropped by the house today.

I wasn't a sickly kid and I'm not sickly now. But I do remember getting sick more frequently when I was younger. And not just the typical fever. I especially remember my extreme bouts of vertigo. I would go for days lying on my bed because the room would spin so quickly whenever I got up. That was a very weird, now that I think about it. I wonder what made me that dizzy. It was terrible. Even while I was lying down, things still moved around. My mom even got me out of bed and tagged me along to the Workstation Production Company and I collapsed on the nearest beanbag once we got there.

Now I get ube delusions. Just great. (drip)

:: marbles lost since 1:15 AM [+] ::
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I'm sick. I have a fever. I've been dragging my limp, headache-y self around the house for the entire day, finally ending up in front of the TV, watching DVDs of Seabiscuit and High Fidelity.

How come I keep on getting sick during breaks? It's like my body knows when to physically break down, just when I don't have any important work to do. It's like it's saying, "Baby, I've been doing you a favor for the past few months. Now that you will spend a lot of your time leisurely, you might as well do it with alternately-snot-blocked nostrils."

Caught up with an old friend last night. It's amazing how you get to know so many people through the strangest cirumstances and end up letting them take up a sliver of your life. And it's amazing how you also end up liking that fact so much.

Speaking of which, I am meeting a couple of old friends for individual lunches/dinners starting Tuesday. I feel so old.

And to counter the emotion exuded when I typed that last sentence:

Mars' pool party is on Monday! Woohoo! And it's an all-day event, too.

:: marbles lost since 4:15 AM [+] ::
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Okay. Dinner with friend moved to next week. I am considerably calmer now that things have been cleared up.

I just saw Maroon 5's Top Ten Favorite Videos on MTV. Man, you could have changed the title to Margie de Leon's Top Ten Favorite Videos (well, maybe except for that Jay-Z thing). What delicious choices. Some were:

Radiohead's Just (my top choice)
Fiona Apple's Criminal
Coldplay's The Scientist
Chemical Brothers' Let Forever Be

That was seriously an hour well-spent.

Cinema One's showing Jologs tonight at 11. Watchitwatchit. I honestly liked it. I'm also looking forward to Crying Ladies in a week. And for the foreign movies, I'm itching to see Kill Bill (yes, yes, don't have a cow--I'm also watching LOTR). They've been showing the behind-the-scenes thingy for Kill Bill for the past two days and it has hyped me up so much that it's driving me nuts. It looks like a fun movie.

:: marbles lost since 11:40 PM [+] ::
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Tito Gabby burned a copy of The Mongol's Buddha's Pest for me. Hu-what a sweetie.



His nuts roasting on an open fire...

I'm supposed to be out right now, having frigging dinner with a frigging friend (literally). But for some reason, our communication was cut off early this afternoon. There suddenly was no way for me to contact him without getting people into trouble. (Waaaaaaaaaah. I was raring to goooooooo.)

Pasig can be such a bore...

I can't stay in this house long.

Perky tits yet no good dick to blow...

To be honest, I don't feel very Christmas-y. I don't care how many wiggling mechanical mall Santas I see or how much keso de bola I stuff myself with. It doesn't feel like the holidays. I'm supposed to be Christmas kibitzing by now. I'm supposed to be craving chestnuts. I'm supposed to be getting all paranoid about the amount of Christmas carols they play inside Shangri-La. But I'm not.

I'm a sexually-frigid Eskimo...

This break, though still in its early stage, just feels like one long weekend. One long weekend I plan to fill with as much debauchery as my spirit will allow. As Sir Miclat, our Hitler of a houseparent, used to exclaim, "Let's get party!" Ha. Jologs. I never thought I'd ever get to quote him in here. Eck. I-liquid sosa na ninyo ako.

Everybody knows, cold turkey and no mistletoe...

Anyhoo, I do hope that Mars' pool party gets underway.

Help to make the season bite...

Oh, speaking of, Mars gave me such a nice gift: a sippy cup. I've now graduated from sucking nipples to sucking thick straws. I'm so proud of myself. :)

'Tis the season for giving.

:: marbles lost since 4:43 AM [+] ::
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Dumb luck.

This day has existed for me to relieve myself of so many things. Case in point: B O T A N Y.

Tolentino conducted the class with frog throat, which prompted her to postpone the Friday long exam to next year since she couldn't be her usual vague self without her chewy voice. I was pretty happy about that, since I have a Math long exam tomorrow, etceteraetceteraetcetera. AND THEN she said that she was also postponing the first draft of our ethnobotany report to next year as well. The report my group and I have been slaving over for weeks. The report that made my weekend undoubtedly one of my most stressful. The academic nightmare of a report. The one that deprived me of any form of relaxation for many, many nights. That report.

Of course I'm happy that it's postponed since I don't have to juggle anything anymore. I only have to worry about the Math long test and I'm seriously home free. But all those near-tears working on the damn thing. My god. All those moments I felt so near to breaking down and setting the Bio Dep on fire. Or myself. Or every single tree that bears our report's topics--mangos, coconuts, papayas, bananas, pineapples, and guavas. All that fuss over damn fruits of the non-sexual kind. Gasp.

Other things relieved from me: a class in Lit, a class in Botany, a class in Fil. And finding gifts for my beloved blockmates. :)

I'd write about Christmas, but that's for another entry. Systems of linear equations are calling. Eck.

Tish texted me. O-O is in the Inquirer today. Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

:: marbles lost since 3:49 AM [+] ::
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My entire block went over to UP to witness the annual Oblation Run. I was actually very lucky to catch snatches of dick amidst the sea of ballistic men, women, and in-betweens (the latter were especially rabid). I also caught Karl, Anna Miggy, Merc, and Feona for a few minutes inside Palma, clothed. (Yes, Karl, I am still distraught that you didn't join that particular frat.) And the cool thing about the entire event? Moscki wholeheartedly agreed to have it replace our Fil class today.

Oh yes, and I finally figured out why my printer's being such a bitch. My beloved mother forgot to take the clear tape out of the colored cartridge. Thus, the tape was responsible for jamming the cartridges and making everything I print out look like a very frustrated squid hand(tentacle?)wrote it. Plus, it was also the reason why I couldn't print anything out in color. And everyone knows color is good. I've been feeling like a monochromatic, technological Neanderthal for months just because of a frigging piece of clear tape.

And my mom has been bugging me about how much I spend on ink and paper. Well, doi. I've been rererererereprinting my stuff because of the damn smudges she was unconsciously responsible for.

Haaaay. Aye, a victim of the modern age, this wench is.

:: marbles lost since 4:16 AM [+] ::
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