The Week I Cried the Most

I used to think days have their own way of turning things upside down and inside out. Interestingly, I never seen a week, a month, or a year that way.

June is one of my favorite months. Birthdays are celebrated here and there, including the boyfriend’s. It’s when you celebrate Independence Day and get free train rides during rush hour. It’s when I allot all my hoarded vacation leaves at work so I could get myself to the beach. Summer’s last hurrah, yes. This time however, the week I thought would be of sheer bliss, turned out otherwise.

Pardon me, I will have to overshare.

  • My boyfriend and I caught The Fault in our Stars in cinemas. I rarely read nowadays since books are forbidden in our workplace but The Fault in our Stars didn’t prevent me in reading and bawling in my cubicle. The movie was how I expected it to be, nothing better compared to the book as some details were left out. I do however shed tears at the scene where Hazel and Isaac were to read their eulogies to Gus. I’m a sucker for beautiful words and I can only imagine how much beautiful yet painful it could be to offer them to one’s existence and absence. Well, at least I no longer gasped for breath in the theater like the girl who sat a seat apart from me.
  • Mocha passed away. We spent several days in Palawan for the boyfriend’s birthday. Before we left, I spoke to our bunnies to behave and not cause headache to my parents. (Though I asked them to make cuter and paawa faces to my sister and parents whenever they want to play outside). We were on the way home from our Underground River trip when we received news that our little baby Mocha passed away that morning. My parents said she had weird bowel movements the day before and was acting drowsy. They thought it was kind of normal since Mocha has the tendency to be passive aggressive at times (you know, lady bunnies). My boyfriend and I cried on the way back to the hotel. Instead of trying out the night life in Puerto Princesa, we spent the night quietly.
Marvelous Mocha, already in full fluff at around 5 months old

Marvelous Mocha, already in full fluff at around 5 months old

  • My iPod drowned. Yes, I cried over that because I get sentimental over photos and videos and memories and lists. Only then have I realized I have a percentage of my life stored in that little dummy thing. Plus, I have Mocha’s and all the other bunnies’ photos there too.
  • My boyfriend and I got into a vehicular accident. I guess I wouldn’t have cried so much for the sake of the accident alone. Well, not until I got a glimpse of my burned leg. We were rushed to the nearest hospital for first aid.  I kept tugging my boyfriend’s arm the entire time they were giving me first aid. I kept asking the nurse what is this and what is that they were applying. I can feel my legs sore then numb then sore again. I never really liked hospitals, mind you, so that was an extra bad memory again. I was on seven days sick leave as the doctors advised that I take rest. On those days, my boyfriend was the one in charge of cleaning the burned area. I cried every time. I bit on shirts and chomped on pillows just to let go of the sting and the pain. I was still a brave girl according to him. I would insist on doing normal things like walking around, playing with pets, and pulling my legs straight when sleeping. I guess I am pretty brave for someone who has low tolerance for pain. I’m no longer posting my leg’s photo because that would be crazy gross oversharing, but it’s already healing.


I can still hardly believe that all happened within a week. Well, referring to bullets 2 and 4, the first and third one was just for some extra tear count. Small regrets though, wish I had been there when Mocha was having troubles. I usually have panic attacks so when I see her in a condition that bad, I would have called whoever or have already taken her to the vet.

Also, I would have wanted to turn back time and play the fourth bullet incident in slow motion. However, I am charging this to experience. I will smile and sigh at my battle scars: “Gawd, I’m brave”.

This is NOT a Birthday Blog…

…because this is about me, my dear love for writing and our years together.

I have been writing for god-knows-when-time I started holding a pencil. The first I wrote was a story entitled “The Sad Fish” in red-blue-red sheets of paper, which I believe my mother kept in some buried place of the house after showing off to my aunties and uncles how genius I am. Until now, they all believe I’m good in writing.

However, I don’t think I am utterly gifted in writing. I am no Shakespeare and I know no rules in writing (except for grammar, of course). I shied away from Language and Literature in college because I didn’t like writing to be a chore and I don’t want to be too critical of myself when doing so. I write when I want to write. I write what I like to write. Shallow or contemplative entries, that’s what have been keeping my pen alive these years.  My former blogs can attest to that. Yes, that was my premature writing phase when my blog was a compilation of love-hate relationships with this and that. Add the fact that I don’t consider capitalization in most posts, but I’d rather say those entries are allusions to ee cummings.

But there is growth and a lot more to it. Like keeping journals to myself then, to lifting the pages, publishing and sharing them on the internet now. There might just be a few who care to read and listen, and that’s enough. Not everyone needs to know about everything, while I too, curate my own pages and decide what to put into writing. It’s a matter of privacy. I’m no sister of the president, you know.

I don’t even know what’s the point of me yakking about this, actually. Well, it might be because I don’t write creatively now. I’m not pertaining to rhyming poems, ok. But to writing short stories and the like. I must have forgotten since I got busy with work. Yuppie thing, yes. However, work afforded me to more ideas and possibilities I’d rather plant on myself than to fictional characters. Thus, I might stick, or let’s say write majorly about myself and what’s going on rather than incorporating and inventing. This makes me feel so mature I’m sticking to reality, come on! But hey, I’m serious.

So, 23’s going to be a year all about me and whoever’s around.

Again, this is not a birthday blog, just a little glance upon me and my dire passion of sorts with writing. Birthday blog will come soon, perhaps when the month ends. My birthday is always a month-long celebration anyway.

Oh yes, birthday blogs – personal tradition aka annual writing project. Good thing, every year, something significant comes up. 🙂

Dear 12-Year Old Ted,

Some ten years (and so-so months) ago, I used to be a bratty yet boyish, sheltered and secretive girl. It’s a pretty weird thing how I came up to be this big me. And since I am this big girl writing, maybe I could give the young pre-teen me a mean set of pointers.

  • Do not be pressured of getting into a Science high school or an Art school. Enrolling will neither make you an astronaut nor a National Artist. You’ll learn the basics of Science in a normal high school anyway, and art? You’d better go for that in college.
  • Do not let go of writing. Your grade school folio is only an annual publication. Do not rest your pen after the deadlines. Write at the margins of your notebook and at the clean sheet of Math scratch paper. Ask your aunties for journals as presents.
  • Appreciate your baon. Your mother will rarely do that for you in college and you’ll surely miss that.
  • Remember boys from the Honor Section. Two from which will sweep you off your feet. Thus, start drafting their records.
  • Hoard more books from the library. Read more classics so that they won’t have to interfere with your studies in the future. Don’t mind the extra charge of a new Borrower’s card, it’s just worth two days’ snack.
  • Do not be afraid of dogs. They’re one of the cutest and most adorable creatures on earth.
  • Do not fear your teachers, even the “terror” ones. They’re supposed to teach, not to traumatize. You can always tell your father about them, and he’ll show them who’s more of an RSA.
  • Take real good care of your hair. It will be the hardest to maintain when you get older.
  • Cherish every moment you spend with your father. One day, his presence will be rare. Or maybe, his voice will be just as good as his presence.
  • Earn patience now. You’ll have to use tons of it later in life.

The Good Stuff for November may be The Same Good Stuff for December (A Wishlist)

It has been a yearly activity for me to write about what I want for my birthday and for Christmas. Luckily, my friends take heed of my subtle “get me this” proposal of sorts.  Last year, a friend gave me a charm necklace symbolic of my little frustrations and wants in life aka photography, matryoshka dolls, bike, and dragonfly. I also received a painted Little Prince espadrilles and a compilation of Art History DVDs from a friend and Love, Stargirl book from my sister.

A friend mentioned in her blog that it doesn’t hurt to make a wishlist ahead of time. In fact, she has a whole year round wishlist which she updates every so often. I must say it is pretty effective since she received a number of books last year without any given special occasion.

And guess it wouldn’t as much pain as I list down what I would like to receive for my birthday and for Christmas. Yes, they usually come in a package since they’re not even four weeks apart. Here goes:

1. Books

Books are like friends. You don’t invest too much money on them and you find them in the most unexpected places. I do not really spend much on books. Honestly, I go for dirt-cheap, second hand, surplus stuff found at thrift shops and book sale outlets. And that makes them amazing and valuable to me. Receiving books from friends however, makes them a lot more special. This year, I have trimmed down my book requests since I still have a set of books piled beside my bed. The list of three starts with Jostein Gaarder’s Sophie’s World for a dose of growing up Philosophy, Benjamin Hoff’s Tao of Pooh for a comical and lighter approach to Philosophy (yet again) and Alain de Botton’s Architecture of Happiness so an art form may be included in the list (I was joking ok). I accept second hand books anyway, as long as spine is intact and pages are complete.

2. Colored pens

For my doodling activities, for writing anyone and everyone notes. To put color in my handwritten love letters.

3. Colorful Flats

Because my pink flats have already gone tired and I would like to assume that by next year, I am going to be in a pretty formal environment. I might be giving my sneakers and slippers a rest, and might be wearing heels most of the time and donning flats during downtime. I won’t be opting for safe colors though. Loud and juicy colors seems to be more relative to my name.

4. DVDs

Because Mr Snooze and I are in love with movies. He has the mainstream aka Hollywood taste while I am into Indie and Art Films. Yes, I still hoping to receive an Akira Kurosawa compilation, a Sound of Music my mother can borrow, The Red Violin for artistic madness, the Name of the Rose where I can drool over Christian Slater and of course, Audrey Tautou movies. On a hushed note, they need not be original. 😛

5. Mix tape/Mix CD

This is simply because I want to be romanticized via music like that. No, you don’t need to explain and elaborate. The words and melody shall make me feel so.

6. Hand-written letters

Beautifully written letters inscribed upon whatever type of paper, folded in which ever weird way, sent via snail mail or hand delivery. Just because im sucker of neat paper folding and words gracefully strewn together.

7. Anything Little Prince

Here’s a toast to my fondness of the stars and unknown places and strangers and early philosophy and the joy found in the littlest of things.

8. Cinnamon 

Hot and fresh from the oven kind of swirls, or flat and frozen discs.

9. A journal

Need not be anything too fancy or special but as long as it can work as a history, sketch, and prose and poetry repository, that’s fine.

10. An Ukay-Ukay Shopping Spree

Because I love vintage and I am a sucker for cheap cheap cheap thrills and real unique pieces.

11. Travel

I believe I need not post this anymore since someone has already granted me this nine months prior to my birthday. But my heart says I should add this anyway, since I still long for Sagada so I can look up the stars and fall in love again. Yes dear, I want to fall in love all over again with you. I have been thinking of hitting the bus after the plane.

Years Juxtaposed

We, of the same blood, flesh and bones

I know I have promised a pretty decent post for you, dear brother. This isn’t it. I’d be writing too soon. I’ll end up romanticizing every little detail. That too, is the reason I won’t be providing too much text on this post. Separate photos will speak for themselves. Their juxtaposition will emanate more stories. This is so Art Studies I know, forgive me.

I will write about you when I’m out of my weightlessness. That. And I love you two.