I am not really a concert maniac. As a matter of fact, I have never been to any major and local concerts, let alone go wandering abroad. I don’t know. It’s weird because I know concerts are mostly about music, but sometimes I feel like being in a jam-packed place would only drive me crazy.

But if Dishwalla decided to hold its concert in the Philippines, I would try my luck and go.

September marks the start of -ber months. You know what they say about it; the spirit of Christmas is already interpersing among us. Or at least in the Philippines, it is. And you know what they also say about it; very stressful months what with all the amplified worries concerning the big-holiday matters. Totally overrated. Just the thought of it makes everything debilitating. Gah!

The first week of September:

Speaking quite frankly, I can't think of anything special that happened apart from the time when I texted Sam a birthday message; ergo, receiving an out-of-the-blue reply that said something about her sapient plan to hook me up with some guy, of which I countered (still via text), What the--?! Good thing Sam could very well read between the lines (it meant "Great! So tell me about him...") so she sent me this guy's photo and...well, he's alright. We're supposed to have a group date sometime at this week but it seemed like Sam had caught amnesia and I busied myself by going out with Elaine and Stef one Saturday night, instead.

I'm not really looking forward to meeting Mr. Alright - don't get me wrong. It just didn't occur to me how long it had been since I last managed to wedge dating in between work and partying. The last time wasn't worth remembering anyway.

So, off to the...

The second weekend of September:

Bff had been in town. Yahoo! She arrived Thursday and I was supposed to be there to welcome her at the bus terminal, which was just a 15-minute walk from my apartment, but sleepiness had overruled. Hey, it was about 4 AM. I needed my sleep. The last time Winelyn was in town was in May of Last year but her stay was so short. This year, though, she was able to stay for a bit longer. So anyway, it wasn't until Saturday that we finally got to see each other. Winelyn is a ne'er-do-well when it comes to commuting into Metro Manila so I always had to pick her up and accompany her home as well. It wasn't an easy job but isn't that what friends are for?

We went to the movies that morning. I was really dying to watch The Time Traveler's Wife (then on its last week at the cinemas), but the schedule did not permit it so we ended up watching Final Destination 3.

Later that night, I went to Stef's advance birthday celebration. It was a night to remember;

v the food (I especially liked the potato salad. I told Stef this but she was all, "You're just saying that." Talk about a non-believer.),

v the drinks (Ms. Wendy fixed me her own mojito version known as the "dirty" mojito...and it actually tasted good!);

v the karaoke (I was able to showcase my musical prowess by singing "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" and "Burning Love"),


From left: LA, Stef (the celebrator), Elaine, me, Yayin, Pam, Lainey, Cent (face hidden), Wendy, and Juri (the dog)


From left: Sam, Elaine, and me looking all tiddly.

v the after-party at Starbucks (forget about ordering frappe at the counter while trying hard to look sober all at the same time...or else the crew will shoo us out)

It was all FUN! FUN! FUN!

...I also had fun the next morning, Sunday. Winelyn and I caught up with each other again. We dined out and found ourselves headed to Rowen's place somewhere in Binondo. Ai-ai and John a.k.a. Isma had already been there long before we came on the scene. The guys were our high school classmates and the party was sort of a mini-reunion. Even Lycka, who wasn't there when we arrived but made it there eventually, did not miss the chance to participate in whatever crazy stuff we were doing. We drank beer and I-dont-know-what-else’s. We practiced our "Nobody" and "Jai Ho" moves. And as if that wasn't enough, John, Ai-ai, Winelyn and I made up a foursome and headed off to a club and went plumb loco. Then, John passed out and had to be carried by a brawny bouncer out of the club. That created a huge scene, of course. Ugh! And John wouldn’t stir even after all the shaking and the slapping we had done. The rest of us had no choice but to spend the night at a nearby hotel. A few minutes after checking in, John was already conscious. Turned out he wasn’t really that drunk and had to act like it. I was bristling with rage at that time and actually thought of stabbing him into pieces. Thanks to Winelyn and Ai-ai, they tried so hard to keep me cool. And so we called it a night. The best and the worst.

The third weekend of September:

When I first learned that one of tita Ambing’s best friends was a nun, I couldn’t believe a word of it. And the first time I met Sister Ludy, I was still little then, I instantly thought of them as an unlikely pair. Sister Ludy was like a superhuman, so divine, and being with her company was so paradisiacal. Tita Ambing on the other hand, was—from a child’s viewpoint—a monster, monster-like, and being with her was like spending time in hell. Battered niece? Nope. It might sound like it but, really, no. One of these days I’ll write more about her.

Last month, tita Ambing talked me into escorting her to Sister Ludy’s. Last time I heard, she had been assigned to Italy so I thought she was just on vacation. When we finally arrived at Sister Ludy’s, I was disappointed to learn that tita only lured me into joining some kind of a vocation discernment program Sister Ludy has been promoting all these times.

But I don’t want to be a...you-know, I protested in a whisper-like tone.

You don’t have to be, tita said, irritably. Just shut up and listen, will you?

O-k-a-y!

The group meets every third Sunday of the month, from 9 am to 4 pm. It wasn’t the typical religious symposium where countless people show up just to listen to a boring Catholic lecture about God. Sister Ludy said she prefers a small-group sharing. We were only seven. That time she did most of the sharing of Godly experiences. She also encouraged us to do the same. I was participative enough.

So since Winelyn was in town, I asked her if she would like to come so I could introduce her to Sister Ludy.  Sure, she said. Tita and I brought Winelyn to the said small-group sharing and Sister Ludy could never be more than happy to have met her, and what’s more, Winelyn and I learned that my text-friend, Eman, is in fact Sister Ludy’s nephew. Small world, Eman had replied when I told him about it on Facebook chat.

Another interesting thing that happened at this weekend was my hobnobbing with Rachelle at her place, where Winelyn was also staying. Rachelle used to be our third-year classmate in high school. She was then a transferee, however, she did not get to finish the whole term. Not with us, to say the least. Winelyn and Rachelle are cousins so they were pretty much close back then, but we never were. We were never frenemies, either. I say interesting because the three of us drank strong beer that night, which also gave us more time to catch up; reminisce, talk about our boys—I mean, Rachelle’s boys….and girls, render our own ghost stories…and a lot more. It wasn’t until then that I realized how cool and waggish a schmoozer Rachelle was.

As I write this Winelyn is already in transit back to our hometown. Too bad we won't get to celebrate her birthday together. T-T

The fourth weekend of September:

…was a disaster of epic proportions.

Click here:  BAGYONG ONDOY

 Lucky for me and my family the typhoon did not leave us damaged in any way. I have always felt fortunate for being a resident of Cubao because of its easy access to any part of Metro Manila, but after that ominous Saturday I feel more blessed now that this highland district had made its locals much safer than the rest.

I feel so sorry for my fellow Filipinos, colleagues, and friends who have lost their homes to Ondoy. More hugs for Cherry.

Now these thoughts keep swirling in my head every time I watch the news on GMA: what if my family and I was one of those people who had to go stranded on rooftops, or swim around through the floodwaters just to save their own lives. What if I was one of those people who had to witness their loved ones drown and be carried away by the strong current of water and not being able to do anything more to help. What about my stuff? Our house? Everything? All gone! What if I had to scamper for relief goods that don’t ever seem to be enough? What if I had to be forced to go out on the streets and beg for alms? What would have I done? What would YOU have done?

***

It’s good to know that there are people out there who are more than willing to give a hand to those who have been greatly affected by Ondoy. I, in my own little way, was also able to give in-kind contributions for Cherry and my other colleagues. Our company—our Korean bosses and the rest of the managers—have also made a great deal of effort to help its affected employees. My Korean students were also very thoughtful that instead of the usual hello greeting over the phone would instead ask me if I was okay, have I been hurt…and so on. I thank them, my sister (Bonet), the philanthropists; foreign and local, the private sectors, and the others for all the help. Most especially, I thank Him.     

Kimmer. He‘s the first one who sprang to mind. Funny how a person slips from one’s memory for years and suddenly starts looming up when least expected. So this Kimmer guy, mind you, is not really a close friend. Never have been. But he was somewhat special. For those who are not familiar with Taylor Swift’s You Belong with Me, it’s about a guy she really likes but she hasn’t been able to tell him and she has to sit and watch him go about with the pretty popular girl. *roll eyes* Need I say more? Another reason he’s special is that I had once associated him with the word “peek-a-boo.” No, he’s not the snoop. I’m the one who is. Or was.

We used to sit side by side in Anatomy class. See? I wasn’t that a loser, thanks to our last names; mine starting with E and his F. So naturally, we would chit-chat from time to time, copy down the test answers from one another, share textbooks, papers, and the likes. Thievery was very universal within our batch, so we also used to look after one another; I would ask him to keep an eye on my Nursing kit, he would ask me to do the same on his belongings; his cell phone, his wallet, and whatnot.

                Once, he left his notebook in my care. It wasn’t your ordinary spring notebook. There was actually a fastener to it; a snap button. So girlish? That’s what I thought so, too. Just before he left, though, he gave me an elbow and was all, “Don’t even dare”; laying stress on the DON’T word. So, as you would expect, I did flip through the notebook and did get the shock of my life. Hazard a guess, will you? ;p

                I don’t know what you guys think about snoops – that’s the nature of the beast, after all.

I've been ignoring and giving Abby a cold shoulder for reasons unknown to me and much more to her. It's been going on for weeks now. While the two of us were eating our packed-lunch at the pantry this afternoon, amidst the awkwardness, she asked me if I was mad at her.

No, I said. But she wasn't convinced.

Then tears fell down her face. I remained poker-faced.

Hitting the road would be really great but since I don't have a car and I don't experience many pleasures in commuting, I would rather settle at home, but only if:

·         I get to have the house all for myself, which is so not probable. I live with two of my sisters and a brother and even though Janice is almost always gone (she works around the clock, is why) and my brother, Jo, often hangs out at our eldest sister’s place, the house seems crammed full with just Bonet around. Not that I don’t like her company or what; as a matter of fact I enjoy loafing and having brain-dead conversations with her but she can, if truth be told, get so moody in ways you could never imagine. My sister, ladies and gentlemen. If only I could get rid of her, just for once. *sigh*

·         I could throw a pajama party. This has been my long-time dream. I mean, really.  I’ve already had sleepovers at Pam’s, had a drink-til-you-drop overnight at Elaine’s and had recently crashed at Lainey’s hotel room, but never had they ever experienced dossing down at ours. Not even once. And it’s somehow frustrating. Not gonna happen, Bonet would cold-heartedly say to me. My sister once again, ladies and gentleman.

The first week of August:

                I bought a book entitled The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. NOT. The title is actually The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time written by Mark Haddon. Quite an author, I must say. It’s about an autistic boy named Christopher who perceives life in a literal sense. I guess, we should be like him sometimes; an autistic and a literal life-perceiver. I don’t know about you guys but I sure am autistic (not to be taken literally, of course). You might want to grab a copy of this book because I’m not writing its book review; I’m not good at it, anyway. I lent this book to Sam two weeks ago and I don’t know; she probably hasn’t started leafing through it yet. She hasn’t got time, has she? What with all the GL work she has to accomplish on weekdays and her various appointments on weekends. By the way, GL stands for Group Leader and my closest friends from work have been eyeing me for that position. THEY want that for me and not the other way around, so don’t take it the wrong way. Because I’m not really interested. You might say I am because why would I bother writing about it if I’m really not, but I’m telling you; I’M SO NOT. Period.

                So anyway, I hope Sam gets to finish reading the book, which is apparently the only book I’ve bought for this month. Sucks.

The second week of August:

                Tito James, Nene’s husband and a military man who has been assigned his post in Jolo, Sulu, arrived the day before another uncle’s birthday. I always anticipate tito (meaning: uncle) James’ vacation, because then I’ll know for sure we’ll finally get to have “real” food at home. Well, of course, I received an invite from this other uncle right after I had texted him a simple birthday blah-blahs, but there’s no way I’d show up. I didn’t feel like coming by their place anymore because, honestly, I wouldn’t like the crowd. Too much family drama is why. Not to mention, sick.

                And oh, by the way, money started being cruel on me. Half of my salary I set aside for the rent and impulsively spent for totally useless things, while the other half I deposited to the bank. My sisters were unquestionably glad about this, but it’s totally THE BIGGEST MISTAKE I DID for this month.  I should have been smart enough to set aside, tack a few bucks onto my daily allowance, and not get worried about going flat busted come next week.
               On the other hand, I was still able to own another pair of Prima Donna shoes.
 
Thanks to the ever pretty and super kind Pau, and her magnificent life-saving credit card. Pau is a frustrated model-turned receptionist who’s been working for our company for roughly a year now. She’s the Imelda Marcos of WinglishPhone known for her bravura taste for footwear and her weakness for the said stuff, which is also now becoming my weakness, too. Talk about Achilles’ heel, baby.

                And yeah, how could I ever forget Friday night. Elaine and I were rough-and-ready for the after-work party, where we would then get to meet up with Stef and her husband. Some colleagues happened to tag along. Each of us had a bottle of beer or two, grooved to the beat of the in-house music, drank some more, and before I knew it I was already on top of the table wiggling my stuff and all that.

Of course, it was so much fun during that time but imagine how embarrassed I was once I saw those pictures. No, they weren’t nasty pictures. Please! They were all funny and crazy. And embarrassing.

The third week of August:

                I got invited to yet another birthday party. This time, it was Audrey’s. Audrey is a former schoolmate in high school. I remember her being popular, morena beauty, talented artist and singer, and best of all, the brains, baby! The birthday party was originally set at the weekend but then it got rescheduled earlier falling on a weekday, so the chance of mingling with former schoolmates and actually being there to celebrate with her did not happen. I like my work shift. I usually feel like I made the right choice between the AM and the PM, but this week I just felt like working from 2 to 11 pm seemed kind of stupid when I could have chosen the AM shift and actually have my nightlife even on weekdays. But these thoughts often come and go. And I’m over it. Or at least, for now I am.

                Now that I’ve mentioned work again, let me just say that one of my Korean bosses has finally got on my nerves. He’s usually very funny, kind, approachable, cool, and FRIENDLY but lately, he’s been sporting some kind of an iron fist. Like literally an iron fist. One night, three of my coworkers and I were having our dinner break in the pantry; he walks in, belts out his infamous “Helllllllloooo Addieeee”, and PLAK! He wallops me at the back, too hard I almost coughed out the food in my mouth. WTF WAS THAT FOR?! Okay, I know I should have considered it a friendly gesture; all the slapping, the pinching, the whacking. Besides that’s what close friends do to one another. I get a few of that sometimes from my friends and I just laugh it off. The boss is already a friend to us, I’m aware of that, but if that’s the Korean way of expressing gratefulness or love to a friend, then I wouldn’t want to befriend any Koreans no more. I mean, are all Koreans really like that? Some colleagues had said yes but I didn’t want to believe that. Sure it happens in most Korean movies and TV dramas but WHO WANTS THAT? Not me, fo’sho.

                For a minute there, I wanted to hit him back but he’s still my boss and I still want to be respectful, so all I could do was blurt out “hajima” (a Korean expression for “don’t do that”), this time with great emphasis on that word (I used to say it to him whenever he affectionately slaps me and the others; of course I say it half-jokingly and half-meaning it), then gave him a super deadly stare. Like that worked.

                But hey it did, or at least I thought it did, because that same night I guess he finally realized what he had just done. He approached me again and apologized. And as usual I was like, “Oh that? No, sir. Don’t sweat it. It’s nothing (translation: I SWEAR I’LL HIT YOU BACK in the head IF, HEAVEN FORBID, THAT HAPPENS AGAIN.).”

                *deep sigh* Tough week, huh. Or maybe I just overreacted. PMS’s a bitch, y’know.

This week, the fourth week of August:

                The PMS has let up but the tough week has carried on. Realizing that my birth certificate is officially gone, I’ve been cringing at the thought of queuing up for a new copy. Damn my forgetfulness. I've been forgetting a lot of things; once I forgot to bring my cellphone with me to work, Nene's birthday got totally plut out of my mind, and now where the hell did I keep my birth certificate?! Can anyone just tell me I have an early-onset Alzheimer's?

                Lately, I’ve been super-duper moody; one minute I’m goofy, the next I’m in a hey-bitch-watchu-lookin’-at mood. Or I could really be very talkative, then not say a single word after a while. I easily get out of focus, frustrated, pissed off, and never do I miss the chance to annoy just about anyone. I literally suck this week. My excuse? I’M BROKE.

                But did it stop me from not hanging out with my girls? Na-ah. My Saturday was great;

Pam, Joie (not in the picture), Elaine and I crashed at Lainey’s hotel room,


became camera whores (thanks to Pam's SLR): THE CLOSET GIRLS,


swam like tadpoles,


had a very cozy dinner at Bellini's...we loved the music, too


drank strawberry margarita,

..... and played funny games, among others. We finally got to meet Cent, Lainey’s boyfriend, and we hung out at Cubao Expo. It was my first time there, not to mention the fact that my apartment is just nearby.

                Well, today is Monday. And we don’t have work because it’s a holiday. It’s no consolation, though. The long weekend was totally wrong timing. But then I guess I just have to spend the rest of the day with my family. It should be great, shouldn’t it?

                                                                                ~THE END~

STARKEY

So there you go. I hope that explained it.


And there’s this other dog we call Meeko. My eldest sister, Jing, and her husband, Jay, got him about a year ago. He instantaneously became, and still is, the darling of the family. During his first week, I would always drop by their apartment or volunteer myself to “babysit” him. He’s so adorable, so cuddly, so baby-ish, and so clownish.



One day, I was playing with him; tossing him up and down when suddenly I lost my grip on him and BAM! did he fall flat on the floor. Since then, he started to get petrified at the sight of me. He would then make that yowling sound whenever I get near him. That's just so frustrating on my part. That broke my heart. He stayed on acting like that for three months. Tss...

Today’s new vocabulary:

LOVE HANDLE (s). Call me stupid or whatever, but I did not know what that slang term means (I didn’t even know it’s a slang term) until today. I was taking one of the TESTQ tests—which is something about working out—when I came across these two words. I looked it up on the www.thefreedictionary.com and it says:

love handle

n. Slang

A deposit of fat at the waistline. Often used in the plural.

So there’s my a-ha moment.

After that, I started thinking about how to get rid of my love handles. I’m actually what you would call petite (I’m not sure but my waistline is about 26, sometimes 29…is that petite? Please let me know.). But just like some other women, I get annoyed by my so-called belly fats I have acquired from having second helpings and/or supersized servings.

Elaine, a good friend of mine (from work), has been hitting the gym regularly and she’s getting in a good shape now. I’m so happy for her. She is wearing a fashionable white shirt and skinny pants today and boy is she lookin’ fine. Maggie, another coworker, also complimented her today. She probably got inspired by Elaine that she thought (out loud) about swimming workouts. I seconded.

So then, Maggie and I are planning to take swimming lessons this August. Twice a week. Saturdays and Sundays. For one hour. Not bad, eh?

But wait there’s more: Maggie has this brilliant idea to either take Jip-jop (Jazz funk) or aero-dance lessons after a month of swimming. Brilliant, indeed. Can’t wait to get started. Wish me-us luck, peeps!

On the bus home one rainy night, I had contemplated on companionship and the lack thereof:

True enough, people find themselves alone, in solitude, or estranged in their own ways. It could get very lonely for sure, especially for those people who are not used to spending time under their own steam. Subconsciously, these people wish for someone who would accompany them, even for just a short time. And if they’re lucky, someone walks into them and acknowledges their presence. And if they’re really lucky, then that someone stays by. Sometimes, though, these wishes are not often realised because either they tend to become very choosy or, yes, they do wait, but all they do is wait and nothing more.

Rooted to the spot, I had mumbled to myself. Pretty much how I am. 

I’m a big fan of Ireland. Yes, the country itself.

The big why? Read here.

Anyhoo, it’s not the reason why I bought Cecelia Ahern’s A Place Called Here (set, of course, in Ireland).


I bought it today at Powerbooks.

It’s the tagline: SOMETIMES IT TAKES LOSING EVERYTHING TO TRULY FIND YOURSELF…

True that. True that.

I’m glad June is coming to an end. This month had been very crucial for me.

May- June has put me under a lot of pressure:

·         Going back to school  (after a year of hiatus) à which I never get to do this month, thus making my aunties, uncles, cousins, friends, fans, you-know-who’s  and myself even more disappointed than ever.

·         Papa’s death anniversary àAbout two weeks before the death anniversary, I texted Nene about Papa. It’s been ten (eleven?)—oh shit, I don’t even remember how long it has been now since his demise. So anyway I told Nene I’m starting to forget how he used to look like, his face, his voice—it’s like my memories of him are now starting to come loose, like a paint peeling off.  So frustrating. Ever felt the same way with your dead loved ones? I hope not.

·         Work. à I was just telling Yayin and Pam last night how I’m starting to feel about it: I FEEL soooo INEFFICIENT THESE DAYS. To add insult to injury, I keep BS-ing my coworkers and vice versa.

Oh well, let’s just say I have my “moments” from time to time, I have a lot of issues, and I have some sort of an attitude. Human nature!

6:20 PM..

I look at the window and notice that the rain has “somehow” let up. It is not pouring real hard anymore than how it was one hour ago. It’s getting late and my feet’s hurting from walking, of course I am not walking right now. I am seated comfortably on the chair, and by that I mean slouching which I try hard not to brook by sitting upright from time to time (…and it’s not an easy job, I tell you).

I can hear a screeching voice from the background, only to find out that it is Beyonce singing “If I Were a Boy” with that trademark squeal of hers. I have nothing against her, as a matter of fact I like her and her songs, I don’t know what it is about today but I feel like the song is nothing but a shriek. “Must be the weather,” I convince myself.

One hour and thirty minutes ago…

I roll around on the bed, check my cell phone to see what time it is now, and turn the alarm clock off (set at 5 pm sharp) three minutes before it is set to alarm. The alarm is meant to tell me to get my ass out of our apartment to pick up my brown slacks at the alteration shop. But the bed feels so cool plus I don’t feel like putting my reading on hold. I am reading Audrey Niffenegger’s Time Traveler’s Wife and I have already read about 16 or so pages. But I must collect the goddamn slacks or else I wouldn’t have anything to wear on Tuesday. I put the book aside, I get up and reach for my white bra that is inside the mesh laundry hamper and put it on.

“Time to leave…again,” I think out loud. I glance at my sister who is sleeping like a log on the other side of the bed. I wonder if she got drunk last night at our eldest sister’s apartment. I was supposed to come over and go drinking with them (just like what we—my siblings—always do on weekends) but I backed out at the last minute. She didn’t say anything about it. Like I expect her to.

I flag down a tricycle and tell the driver to drop me off at SM. It is raining and pretty soon it’s going to pour very hard. Good thing, I have my umbrella with me. Genius!

The said alteration shop is inside Shopwise Mall. In order to get there, I have to trudge the hallways of SM Supermarket, a supermaze I’d rather spare myself from explaining the details because it would probably sound like its blueprint in writing. To make the story short, I arrive at the alteration shop and the clerk hands in the plastic bag with my slacks inside.

Then, I head toward another booth, although it really doesn’t look like your ordinary booth because only a desk full of medical apparatuses, chair and a woman garbed in white (a nurse, I suppose) are what you can see. I look at her; she is busy taking a stocky man’s blood pressure.

“I bet that’s about 160/100, totally a high BP level. Tsk. Tsk” I say to myself as if talking directly to him—that stocky man. After a while, he leaves and inserts a coin in the donation box that’s on the nurse’s table. I look at him one more time and say something like, “You'd better take it easy for a while - you don't want to die anytime soon, do you?” Then, I chuckle. A meanie that I am. The nurse stares at me with curiosity, probably wondering why a mischievous smile is registered on my face. How can she help me, she asks.

“Uh, blood typing,” I say in a high-pitched tone yet a low voice.

She tells me to have a seat while she prepares for the things she would need for the “uh, blood typing,”—I can imagine her mimicking me. I notice the papers and apparatuses and a whole lot of things on her desk. Every thing seems to be in its proper place. How organized! Are nurses supposed to be this organized? I think of my pseudobest-friend, Winelyn, who has just graduated from college with Nursing as her major. Is she this organized? Like I would know. She’s a thousand miles away and we almost have no contact since God knows when. Am I this organized? NO WAY! Why have I even bothered to ask?

And so my blood type—drum roll, please—is…O! Oh!

“Are you sure?” I ask the nurse, stupefied. Because I have almost convinced myself since the last time that I was probably an AB...the traits are more like me.

She stares at me, her eyes about to roll almost as if saying “Are you serious? I’m a nurse, you idiot, and you…are a nobody.” Instead, she says “Please fill this form out” without even bothering to answer my question.

So, I’m an O which means I am “outgoing, and very social. They are initiators, although they don't always finish what they start. Creative and popular, they love to be the center of attention and appear very self confident ." SO NOT TRUE except for the they-don't-always-finish-what-they-start” part. Now I know O’s are great procrastinators. I, myself, is a procrastination-personified. Period.

About five hours ago…

I wake up and reach absent-mindedly for my cell phone. It is thirty past eleven and I have a message from Nene, my aunt. Apparently, she and Aj had a nice trip and they’re already home (back in the province). I still feel bad about not being able to kiss both of them goodbye yesterday—because of the stupid LBM. The bonding I had been imagining since last week happened the same day in the form of an early seafood lunch that Nene had prepared for us (at our apartment). So then, seafood + non-stop chatting = LBM. I text her back telling her about my agenda for today.

The agenda consists of:

* Going to Optical Shop = CHECK.

            It’s been two months since I had promised myself that I would have my lenses changed. Two months. It took me two months to finally deprocrastinate myself, for Pete’s sake. So now, not only do I have new lenses but I also now have a new frame (gray-to-plum and full-rimmed; the old one is red brown and semi-rimmed) which also means that I have spent more than I should have but am still thankful because I got it with a 50% discount. Sweeeeet! On the other hand, NOT because the optometrist told me that my eyesight has just gotten worse, from 75/75 to 150/200 vision. So okay, nearsightedness increase over time whether you like it or not. Deal with it. I felt nauseous the first time I wore it and I still do. Hopefully, it’d feel better by tomorrow.

* Going to the alteration shop = CHECK

            I thought of Mrs. Barbonio again.

* Buying that book = CHECK

           
Not originally on today’s to-do list but I did anyway. The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I had planned on purchasing it on the next payday but I don’t know what has gotten into me today. Boredom, maybe.

* Cleaning the CR = VOID

            I’m just going to do it first thing tomorrow. I’ve already set my alarm clock. I have a chronic case of procrastination so give me a break.

* Taking a shower…after I have cleaned the CR = VOID

            Self-explanatory. The last time I took a shower is two days ago. It’s weekend, after all. Plus the weather’s all cold. So, why bother? Right? Right.

8:35 PM

I bet it is still drizzling outside. I can't help but think about the upcoming company outing (June 6th and 7th). Beach outing couldn't  be much fun if it's raining. Not that I'm a beach bum or whatever but you can't go swimming when it's feezing out there. You just can't. Plus I'm not into swimming because I can't swim. I'm more into displaying my hot bikini bod. Kidding. So, rain rain go away...

And oh yeah, I must wake up early tomorrow--at least an hour earlier…to clean the bathroom.

And I have to continue reading the book.

And eat something.

My aunt (I call her Nene) and her son, Aj, swung by our apartment about twelve today. I prepared lunch for them and Nene and I had a rushed chat about whatnots over some hotdogs and watermelons while Aj was preoccupied with the playstation. I say "rushed" because I had to leave for work before 1pm, which then leaves us about 45 minutes or less to gossip about some things--whatnots, like I said.

Nene and Aj are here (in M.Manila) for their summer vacation and today was the second time we have "briefly" seen each other. They'll be leaving for Bicol this coming Saturday.

"Already?" I blurted out while spitting the watermelon seeds out.

"Well, you can't expect us to stay here for another week or so. Aj is starting elementary school in June and besides we've been here for roughly three weeks now," she explained.

"Oh. It's been that long?" I heard disappointment in my voice and so did she.

I miss Nene so much and now I'm starting to hate work...well, not really the work itself, but the schedule. Weekend is just around the corner and I have to find time for our UBE (ultimate bonding experience) before she leaves. We have some catching up to do plus I could use some "shrink." She is not a pyschologist or anything like that but, for me she's all that and more. It's just this conflict in our schedule that makes me go nuts. Phew!
 

I am colorful today...literally. I am wearing an orange shirt, red shoes, an apple green bag and a brown striped skirt--okay, the brown skirt's probably not a good thing but nevertheless, the colors are just so vibrant I just wish as I'm as colorful deep inside.

So anyway, last night was fantastic. I was in the middle of a phone conversation with one of my students when suddenly the lights went off...power outage...ha-ha, just what I needed. Well, of course the line wasn't affected so we resumed our class.

It turned out there was fire in the neighborhood. I don't know if the fire had climbed up the electricity posts or Meralco (also in the neighborhood) decided to cut the electricity to avoid further damage but either way, work was interrupted and our boss just had to let us go (two hours earlier than the usual). So off I went.

I didn't go straight home...I would have been bored and would have committed suicide (okay, the latter is an exaggeration) if I did.  I dropped by at my sister's house and I didn't have to act surprised when I found my brother there. There's probably no food at home, which is always the case. So, great! With my sister and my brother---and my sister's husband who wasn't there yet by the time I came over, I was like "Hey, let's have a drink!" My sister went for it all at once and my brother, who is supposed to leave for Bicol today, thought it was a great idea.

THE BAR. That's my recent discovery. We had our first tryout last Saturday night (almost midnight). Apparently, my sister had thrown a dinner-party for our late mom's birthday that night but I was at a wedding party the same night so I just told them I'd probably be coming by late. It was around 10 pm or so when I came home from the wedding. I took a nice shower before heading to the nearest convenience store to buy some liquor for us. There weren't much alcohol on the shelf of that store except the local ones and I didn't feel like drinking the same old stuff for that night. Then I noticed it (THE BAR), a n orange vodka with a 50.6 US proof (...and I don't even know what that means). It was good, all right.

So, we had The Bar again but last night, we tried the lemon and lime gin. We had chips and a grape juice that served as the tonic. Weird?! You bet. At the same time, we were also watching Korean movies. I guess my brother-in-law's addicted to Korean movies already. Eek! Haha. We were having such a great time last night, making a fool of ourselves, playing with Meeko, and imitating the Korean accent while speaking in Tagalog. What a fun-filled night. Crazy, I should say.

I'd have to say, hanging out with your siblings couldn't be that bad an idea. You might not have alcoholic siblings like mine but cutting them some slack with also lead you to realizing that, hey, this is better than anything else. Sure, friends could be "a lot" better but for me that's overrated. Sometimes, we all need to take a break from so-called friends and discover a whole new lot...within your ates and kuyas. The friendship that has already been residing within each other, we are just too goddamn busy with a lot of stuff to barely even notice it. 

Again, hanging out with your siblings couldn't be that bad an idea. And don't forget the booze!