:: 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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