Deja vu

Twenty years ago...
Somebody allegedly cheated his way to Malacanang. The people were confused and restless. They poured onto the streets in protest, for truth and for what they believed is right.

Twenty years after...
Somebody allegedly cheated her way to Malacanang. The people confused and restless. They poured onto the streets in protest, for truth and for what they believed is right.

In true Ate Glow fashion... Ang saya-saya noh?

I had planned to sleep in, desperately trying to catch up with my missed zzz's. I was deeply immersed in a dream that involved fireworks and a ferris wheel and, let's just say, plain magic, when beb rang and told me there was something oddly (too?) familiar happening in Edsa. I turned on the TV and what do i see? Basically, nothing new. I turned the TV off, then texted beb to just sms me if we have a new president by noon. Feck it. Who am i kidding? It'll all blow over by noon.

I'm not one for social commentary. Frankly, i try to leave it to the pros. But this fecking situation tried to rob me of inday's day-op so i should assert my rights to protect my precious rnr time from being trampled upon. So here's my two cents. Wait, make it five.

Oh c'mon people, the woman worked really hard to get to sleep in the Arlegui residence for six more years. The room service must be that good to risk leaving a legacy that would rival that of a former dictator's. Do you think you'll scare her with banners, prayers, and yellow confetti? I could just picture somebody in a grey Mao suit watching the coverage of all the commotion in Ayala Avenue whispering to herself, "Nek-nek nyo".

Twenty years ago, we taught the world how to overthrow an oppressive regime through a peaceful revolution we call People Power.

Twenty years after, a lady in Malacanang taught the tyrants of the world how to nip one in the bud.

Just for Kicks...

... i set and read the subtitles on when i watch DVD's, even though the movie's in English. I especially find it entertaining when they don't match. Babaw talaga.

Emotional toll fee: priceless.

This week has been very difficult to deal with, and yesterday was no exception. I've been searching for that good cry, and well, let's just say, be careful on what you wish for. It wouldn't let up. I'm so relieved it is sunday, and i could go to mass and start the week off right, hopefully this one better that the last. This week sure took a heavy emotional toll on me, and i'm resenting having to pay for it.

Runaway

All day long, i feel like i wanna bolt and run away. Something's trying to catch up with me and i can feel it breathing behind my back. I'd be lying if i said i don't know what it is, because i know exactly what it is. And it's not as if I'm not ready to face it, because God knows how many times i've played it out in my mind. And it's that. I know exactly how it's gonna play out, and it scares the shit out of me. And all i wanna do now is run. Run away from everything, run away from everyone. I wanna run away to where nobody can find me, run away to where i can't even find myself...

I miss

I miss the old me, version.(20)01 - (20)03.

I miss walking through ateneo gate 3, being greeted by socsci and rizal lib, hanging out at the sec b benches, then at the eco dept two years later. I miss early morning talks of what the sims' burglar took from our digital dream houses and (now doomed) paotsin siomai breakfast as soon as the caf opened. I don't miss the classes, but i missed hanging out with the eco girls at escaler before math 21 while the boys find a new way to annoy us. I miss balancing my vendo coffee from sec a after my first year ungodly early morning nat sci class, then my brown bag-ed double salami, egg and cheese sandwich from food for thought as I head for home in loyola heights condo, senior year. I miss jollibee, natio, and starbucks katips, things my now always empty wallet could do without. I miss the sounds of trikes during 7 am rush hour and jogger's foot traffic at night time. I miss running from gate three to moro to gate 2 back to the condo just in time for AI season 3. I miss kaye's sinigang and leigh's adobe tutorials and the condo girls' soft porn nights. I miss college, not college-college, but college life.

I miss my friends, version.(20)01-(20)03.

I miss those weekends. I miss fetching them well past ten in the evening. I miss them having to "invent" some excuse to get off their houses. I miss going to bars where the waiters know us by reputation. I miss having a table even though the place was packed. I miss subzeroes. I miss frozen margaritas. I miss off-the-menu, should-be-declared-illegal mixes. I miss bitchin' about the opening act, the oldies crowd, disappointing booze, paimportante people, and jerks and asses men-parade currently going on in our lives. I miss coffee in styros at 3 am. I miss hang-over-ed mornings, neighborhood tapsi lunches and SATC nights. I miss laughing my head off over bad ass hirits of all hirits. I miss stalking in Malate. I missed being stalked in Malate. I miss revenge nights, armed with sticks of Juicy Fruits. I miss tripping over ourselves because of too much alcohol. I miss Jose. I miss our lolos would could put MYMP to shame. I miss having to look forward for the next weekend. I just miss hanging out.

I miss my life, circa 2001-2003.

I miss not having to worry where i'll be ten years from now. I miss not worrying about how to pay the bills and earn my keep. I miss chasing my dreams, realities and responsibilites now get in the way. I miss just waking up, going to school, eat then sleep. I miss the trivialities youth comes alone with. I miss not having to live up to anyone's expectation, not even my own. I miss my old problems, because they are far more easier to solve than those i have now. I miss those times when boys were an excuse to get together, not to grow apart. I miss having a real laugh. I miss having fun without bringing up old memories, because back then, the present is way more hilarious. I miss not having to look back, because back then, the now wasn't worth missing. I miss the old versions of my friends because in some ways, we are all way more fun then than we are now. I miss them, but i welcome the change, because nobody wants to be stuck in the past. I miss the old me. I miss the old them. I miss my life circa 2001-2003. I miss not having to miss anything at all.

Commercialization? Who cares?

A bunch of chrysanthemums and a bag of miniature crunch woke me up today. I am not really that fond of V-days, but it starting to grow on me. Chocolates help --- a lot.

Happy hearts' day everybody!

It's a bird, it's a plane .... no it's a dog (shaped balloon)!

We were doing 120 kph on NLEX because if he springs for one kph more, one of my precious bags would hit him squarely on his noggin.

It was one of those beautiful sunday mornings when the sun has yet to greet you and the cold wind splashes across your face giving you a natural blush and then you instantly realize --- your outside Manila (can you imagine?). A quick hour-drive from the urban jungle, beb and i were accosted by a giant dog seemingly sleeping across Clark Airfield. Beb knew of my fondness for balloons so he scored us some tickets for the annual Hot air balloon fiesta - completely complimentary so getting in was a breeze. You had the given normal-shaped balloons, then you have the dog(s), a cat in a box, and a Korean newspaper. We missed our Starbucks breakfast on one of the gas stations that popped up along highway so after the giant balloons took flight, we headed towards the food concessionaires. After scouring through our choices, we settled for the american set meals over the Hungarian sausages with an actual Tagalog-speaking Hungarian cooking it.

Beb met up with some friends from High, err, Iacademy, who conveniently were roaming the grounds as well. Sometimes, i think he could very well run for office one day, just because he knows somebody in one place in one given time. I couldn't count the number of times somebody from somewhere shouting "Lejox" at us when we're out. As Mr. Popularity begged off from his people to go eat breakfast, he spoke too soon. Another group, this time the H boys from Ateneo high we're in our midst, with the gfs (like me) tagging along. This group i knew since i went to classes with some of them, and the next thing we knew we were skipping through highways exits in search for the famed Razon's palabok and halo-halo. For some moment there Pat, the group's resident pampagueno was taking us back to Manila, but as soon as i got a mouthful of that ice wonder, driving across Pampanga was all worth it. The food was good, the company was (surprisingly) warm and we bid each other goodbyes as we all head off back to Manila.

Over an hour later, beb and i were at home, snoozing off the rest of the day, dreaming of balloons, palaboks and halohalos. Won-der-ful.

While in transit...

... I encountered the most beautiful idea --- or at least the start of what i think is a beautiful idea. I don't know what to make of it yet, but i guess somebody handed me the ball, and i'll just have to run with it.

easy like sunday morning

Barely.

Sunday morning was spent resisting the urge to tear my copy of Paolo Coelho's Veronika Decides to Die to shreds. I've been struggling with the book, not because it's a hard read, but because it hits too close to home. By page 135, it has successfully bumped "The pilgrimage" off as my favorite Coelho's book. By page 136, i had to put it down and just concentrate with another nourishment of some sorts, my fix of iced chocolate dreamt and craved for since thursday night, along with a plate of cinnamon swirl I haven't had my hands on since college. With beb on my cell, I walked out of Starbucks T. Morato with a soul and sugar high. Now that's a start.

Beb and i had time to kill, so after surveying what's on the cineplex at the galleria, we decided we'll sit through almost two hours of Gwyneth Paltrow in "Proof". Gwyneth wasn't even close to insanity, the girl's too solid, but if insanity looks like her, I'm happy to be loony. It was my kind of thinking movie, not the best i've seen, but worth the 130 pesos out of beb's wallet. Now, this time, with a call in his cell, i desperately got hold of my nerves, and braced for the next couple of hours.

We met up with his mom and his sister, who were doing some major power shopping around the mall. After taking a couple of swipes off credit cards, we went off to meet up with his dad and brothers who were making similar rounds at shoe stores on the other end of the mall. Dinner was reserved at Crowne Plaza's Seven Corners for his dad's birthday, and at six, six warm bodies and a nerve-wrecked one appeared at the doors of practically empty frou frou buffet resto that side of Ortigas. When Raph, his sister's bf, came to fill the eighth seat, all rose and acquainted ourselves with the assembly of food from all "corners". Beb helped himself with Asian noodles and tiger prawns, while i got myself some fresh raw oysters, medium rare almost moo-ing roast beef and palm-sized salami pizza. My heart almost jumped out of my chest when i saw a free-flowing chocolate fountain, with all the cookies and marshmallows you could stick in them. This from a person who love chocolates and fountains separately, so seeing them in one brilliant structure is practically cardiac arrest inducing. Beb got me a couple of choco mallows and little plates of creme brulee and sansrival, so i was, without a doubt, one happy girlfriend.

Everyone capped the night off with a round of hot jasmine tea, and stories sprang out of parking passes and those years during martial law. For the last two years i have been with beb, his dad finally didn't look like he saw a ghost when he saw me and actually seemed genuinely interested in what i do now for a living. Now, it's official. I'm in this neck-deep.

We said our goodbyes and beb took me home. The boyfriend asked if it turned out to be a good day. Great, I said, wasn't easy, but great.

I'm Calling It Quits.

Guilt kicked in, but feck it, do i deserve this?

Beb got a little stint playing host to a school event cum fashion show on Sabado night at Club Halo. Feeling less than perfect (gf) lately, i hauled ass to Makati via LRT and MRT (nag-effort talaga ako promise). I had a slight episode at the Taft Station of MRT, almost got lost but survived to tell the tale. However, my MRT fiasco doesn't even hold a candle beside the following series of events, so i'm skipping that. Let's get on with one of the reasons I'm thankful I'm not in college anymore.

So Beb and his friend, Yari, another host for the event, 30 minutes after their call time, picked me up at Ayala Station. Calls were ignored on our way to Amorsolo, and the hosts longed for Rodik's, but luckily for the organizers, the place was closed. My ticket tells me that the show goes on from six onwards, and t'was past seven already so, yipee, i could just enter the club and plant my behind in some obscure seat at the back. We arrive, the poor hosts got glared, and i got stopped at the gates. Apparently, they weren't letting people in yet (calm down. calm. down.), so i just grabbed beb's keys and patiently waited in the van with my cosmo mag. Beb wonderfully checked in on me every five minutes or so, ask if i was ok, to which i respond, "Ok lang, buhay pa." Carbon monoxide poisoning still not evident, at least on the outside. Feck it.

A small, very eager crowd were amassing in the parking lot and at 10 past eight, they finally let the "early birds" in. I could have bailed, but being minutes so close to my bedtime, the energy 's starting to slip, and it's easier to just give up the lost cause. If there ain't no "OUTSIDER" red stamp mark across my forehead, my self-appropriated bar stool as far from the runway as i could possibly find probably gave me away. I was being a good girlfriend, just like i imagined i would be (Ouch talaga, Just. Still hurts.). Looking like the pahtey wouldn't start anytime within the next century, I tried to catch the attention of some guys in the room, particularly those behind the bar. Found my usual, i-don't-wanna-get-drunk-but-i-wanna-drink-now mix, frozen margarita on the menu, and by the time the fecking fashion show started, i was on the drink no. 2, with SMB strong Ice chasing it. The moments after was a haze, there were people wearing sunglasses against artificial light at 10 pm, college demigods in barely-dare clothes, a beach wear walk off ala Zoolander. I swear I could have easily broke me some shards of glass and slit my wrist then and there, but still i thank God I had text angels. Maebz, Joyz, Just, if only for this, i owe you forever. By the time they were awarding the model of all models of the night, (i missed the talent and the question and answer portions) I downed a respectable 4 glasses of frozen margaritas and a bottle and a half of Strong Ice. The people on stage were happy, and I, wishing i could be more inebriated, just cheered for beb.

Ayan, quits-quits na ha.

we cool?

It's hard to remember how it felt before
Now I found the love of my life...
Passes things get more comfortable
Everything is going right

And after all the obstacles
It's good to see you now with someone else
And it's such a miracle that you and me are still good friends (someday, i guess...)
After all that we've been through
I know we're cool

Remember Harbor Boulevard
The dreaming days where the mess was made
Look how all the kids have grown
We have changed but we're still the same
After all that we've been through
I know we're cool

- Cool, Gwen Stefani

Ampotah, reminds me of somebody i don't wanna be reminded of... Gwen, nananadya?

Cry like you've never cried before...

I am a walking sentimental timebomb.

Writing has been a very good release for me. For a person who’d rather keep things to herself, well above her brim, blogging makes for effective therapy. If I feel like sharing to the world, or at least to the few who read this blog with tolerance, my version of the world for the last twenty four hours or so, I could do so with one click publishing. Sensitive matters, not for world wide web viewing, can be kept well hidden in cryptic messages that only people on my speed dial can decipher. If all else fails and what I feel involves words yet to be invented by civilization, there’s always the next best thing… crying.

Crying has always been one of the most used weapons in my coping-with-life arsenal. Labeled as the family’s iyakin, I have been known to throw a fit or two when I don’t get what I want. I am a middle-child, and that’s my game-plan in getting some attention towards my general direction. Of course, remnants of those days, tantrum-throwing days, pop up once in a while, but I could honestly say I have mellowed out through the years. Of course the tears occasionally fall once in a while, but I’ve learned how to put most of them to better use. I cry to feel better, if there’s such an irony in the world.

The power of a good cry is something I’ve picked up along the way. I’ve tried it once, and I’m hooked for life. There’s nothing like crying once a week when you’re alone with no apparent reason. You just sit in one corner and cry. Cry, wail, sob, it doesn’t really matter. Drown whatever the heck the world’s throwing your way with tears. Block the world out, wash the haters and the hated away. Do it alone if possible. It freaks people out. As for me, I don’t give a rat’s ass who’s gonna see or hear me. During one of my previous lives, I lived in a one bedroom condo with two girls who are very missed and hold special spots in my heart. Because of spatial constraints, and non-hogging of the bathroom unspoken rule, I decided to just let it out in front of my workstation, music filling my ears. At first it bothered them, suddenly they thought they were living with a psycho who’s going to slash their throats while in slumber. But after my episode, I explained what the waterworks was about. Since then, every other time they caught me in my moments, they just give me an occasional tap on the shoulder, make sure everything was relatively bearable and then left me to be. Bless those girls.

Lately, however, I started to miss it. I don’t know if I cried one too many times over warm and fuzzy commercials aimed more towards your wallet than your heart. I don’t know if I wasted buckets full of tears over movie trailers, triumphant sports moments and/or brilliant and moving written word. For some time now, I feel like the dam gonna break loose and I’m just more than willing to give in. But it doesn’t. I feel like I’m always in the verge of tears --- on the ride to work, while taking inventory, while bathing, in the can --- always. I feel like poking myself in the eye, induce it and see if it comes, because it sure stings and I just want to get it over and done with. It won’t. It hasn’t. I don’t think I lost it, though. Perhaps, it’s just picking its right moment, saving me right before I’ve gone over the edge. Maybe, I’ve gotten more, dare I say, stronger, and sparing a few tears over nothing I couldn’t deal with laughing, would be a waste. I’m just missing it. I am just banking that it comes when I need it most. Never failed me then, hope it doesn’t start now.