Old Manila Pen/Ink/Paper Hunt

Last Saturday, a small group of Fountain Pen Network - Philippines (that's FPN-P, yes) members trekked to Old Manila to pen/ink/paper-hunt. There were nine of us, yes, including the two girls with the Lucky Panda everyone calls Ivan (I have a photo with him.).

My haul: the brown notebooks are Golden Bridge brand, bought more for sentimental reasons than their use; the colorful ones are Staples brand Memo Notebooks; Hero 221 pens and a white Rotring Tikky II; vintage red and green Parker Super Quink inks; the pad underneath all these good stuff is a Cattleya yellow ruled pad, very, very friendly to fountain pens! *Wink.*

The day started for some five of us eating McDonald Quarter Pounder meals while waiting for the others to arrive. Our first stop: Recto.

The first shop we visited in Recto is Conanan's. It was my first visit to Conanan's, and I saw a bad/poor/dirty Parker 25. Poor pen. *Sigh.* I wished I could buy it, but I was saving my moola for the Birdies in Cosmos. Some of us got excited over Conanan's notepads with laid paper selling for less than PhP10 a pad. We all had a hoot seeing boxes of vintage Parker Super Quink inks in black, blue, blue-black and red. I got a bottle of red Super Quink, but not before ink-meisters Mona and John turned the bottle this way and that, held it against light to check for serious sediments or molds, and smelled the ink for signs of bad chemical reactions. They said the ink should not smell vinegary. *Wink. Wink.*

Vintage Parker Super Quink inks. The red is from Conanan's in Recto, the green is from Merriam and Webster in Avenida.

Our next Recto shop: Corona!!! Corona is unforgetable for me because it's the first shop I went to visit and bought a lot of pens without hurting my cashflow. :) A Hero pen at Corona costs between PhP60-70 a piece. A lot cheaper than a McDo Quarter Pounder meal! There were plenty of Youth and Hero pens available, some new since my first visit, and several Lamys, but I just got myself two Hero 221's. Saving it up for the Birdies...

The last shop we visited while in Recto is the Merriam and Webster store. Lots of Parker 45s and some Sheaffers, but I really wasn't into buying these pens so I tried the paper department and came up with, voila! a pad of Cattleya yellow ruled legal paper! And like the other Cattleya pad I got previously, this one is very friendly to fountain pen use. I also spotted a bunch of Rotring Tikkys and I got myself a white one.

Next stop: Avenida. John was telling us about cheapie Sailor fountain pens at Avenida's Merriam and Webster branch, so we dropped by, only to find out that someone bought all the pens last week. Hmmm... We were all thinking, who could that be? So we feasted on their vintage inks and I got a bottle of the permanent green Parker Super Quink ink with Solv-X. Surprisingly, the bottle I got is Made in the Philippines. Cool.

While the others went on to look at the other bottles of inks, I went to check out their notebooks and I was so surprised (and happy all the same) to see stacks of the brown Golden Gate notebooks. Remember the 55 notebooks blogpost? I wish I had a Golden Gate there. These notebooks date to my elementary days and I bought three of them last Saturday, more for sentimental reasons than their usefulness. Sentimental because I once used a University Theme notebook as a reviewer of sorts when I was about to take my scholarship exams for my high school qualifications. And it helped. Together with a blue and red Haba-haba ballpoints. I got a four-year high school scholarship complete with book and uniform allowances. God, how I miss those days...

Golden Gate notebooks date back even to my parents' school days. Rarely sold in big bookstores nowadays, it's a delight to see them again.

These are PhP9.75 a piece notebooks and I'm glad to have found them and let them keep my fountain pens company.

Lastly, the pens. The two capped pens are the Hero 221's from Corona with different barrel colors: green and black. Both are excellent writers, never mind that the green one leaks. The white pen beside the two is a Rotring Tikky that accepts 0.7mm nibs only - time to use the Pilot ENO color leads!

And the Pilot Birdies? No we didn't get any of them. Cosmos Bazaar was already closed for the day when we got there. Argh! Then again, while we were in Binondo, Hazel treated us to a dinner of noodles, pig's ears, dimsum, and the winner ube siopao. It rocks! It's true that time flies by (fast) when you're having fun. Soon after the unforgettable dinner (and some pictures taken), we were let off at the UN Avenue LRT station to catch a ride to Buendia and then home to Laguna. What a day it was for all of us. Fun! (That of course spells pens, inks, paper, food, friends.) *Wink.*

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Bigti Song Numero Trés

And here's the third song from the 'Heartbreak' playlist blasting all day long in my iPod speakers: Evanescence's My Immortal.

Among the songs in the growing playlist, this exquisitely lamenting and haunting song is the only one to have moved me to tears in the recent weeks. Yes, the first time I heard it after the breakup, I actually wept. Oh, who wouldn't?

As Amy Lee's heart-wrenching vocals start to float in the air, I couldn't help but to own the song. To claim it as mine. To cry with the song. And feel it as it engulfs me. And in the middle part of it, I feel my soul grieving and that the tears flowing from my eyes are coming from my soul. By the end of it, my pain is unbearable. Ah, heartbreak.

If you thought I'm over it, then you're wrong. I will, eventually.

But not yet.

I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me

You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along

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Heartbreak

Yesterday I got messages from friends inquiring about my disastrous state. I also got loads of inspirational messages meant to help me deal with my current predicament. Thanks, guys. You just don’t know how good it felt to read your messages. I was moved beyond words. I feel so truly blessed to have friends like you whose care, sincerity, and understanding are unparalleled. And you know I need not name you here because this is a personal blog, not a newspaper’s ad page, and it’s better for you to remain anonymous to most of my other readers. I guess.

Well, it’s been a week, yes. And it’s been quite difficult. As in death, nothing prepares a person for the misery entailed by a heartbreak. Nothing prepares anyone for the emotional roller-coaster that goes with it. Sometimes I feel vindictive, almost spiteful. At times I just feel so depressed because I realize I still long to be with the person. But mostly, I feel like floating in midair, as if suspended in my own pool of emotional discotheque.

But what the hell is this thing called heartbreak? And why is it such a big deal? Oh, and why not?

Heartbreak is a crippling experience that can leave anyone ineffective, depressed, unhappy and miserable. It incapacitates a person way beyond his/her control. According to Wikipedia (I can't believe they have an entire entry about it.), heartbreak is associated with losing a loved one, and the phrase refers to the pain that a person feels in his/her chest resulting from the loss. Such incidents trigger the human brain to distribute chemicals that were found to weaken the heart and the tissues surrounding it. Whoa. Scary, isn't it? In a related article published by the Washington Post, scientists have found that a person can die of a broken heart. Read the article here.

The articles scare me, but while I am afloat in misery and wallowing, I know that to recover and heal from it will take time. Surely. But no matter how long it takes, I will, because I have to. It’s a difficult process that I will have to go through regardless of whatever else transpires in the world now, because heartbreak is not an illness that a single pill can cure. Though I wish there is a cure to it. And like love, it’s a state of being, a different consciousness. But only transitory, only momentary; nothing that should be permanent, or I will be isolating myself from the rest of the world. That sounds oh-so pitiful.

Oh yes, it’s been a week. And yes, there will be another week. And there will be more weeks to come by. And when those weeks come, I am not floating anymore. When those weeks come, I will be on my feet already, facing the world again with conviction, fervor and zeal.

Why, come to think of it, now that I am alone again, I will have more time to spend in the flat, I will have more time to read, write, watch movies, paint, sketch… Ahead are more weeks of solitude and silence, but I suddenly realized I want just that. I welcome solitude and silence as my new companions now. They are my Sputniks, as Sumire was to Miu, as Miu was to Sumire.

As what Mahatma Gandhi once said, “in the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in a clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness.” See?

Among the messages I got, one stood out, and it's from my friend Michael who knew how my new relationship started and understood the depth of my feelings for the other person. He said that he's scared this heartbreak will turn me into a cynic now. Oh. Funny, but I never thought of it that way. Cynicism? Nah. I do not believe in being that.

One person will not change my mind, one affair will not change my heart.

Life goes on, and my world will not stop because I lost her.

I'll bounce back. You'll see.

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Bigti Song Numero Dos

And here's Bigti Song Number 2.

I was supposed to post Diana Krall’s ‘Why Should I Care’ today, but a friend’s message sent very early this morning reminded me of this extremely emotional Michael Jackson song: She’s Out of My Life. (Though this is Josh Groban's version.) This sad and haunting ballad was composed by Tom Bahler after Karen Carpenter broke up with him.

She’s Out of My Life is a short song, but its piercing meaning clearly describes the message: sadness, loss, and agony brought about by a break-up. The singer reaches out to the listener, to convey his despair, his frustration, his misery and desolation. It is said that Michael Jackson had to repeat recording the later part of the song because he was always in tears when he sings the word ‘life’.

Oh, heartbreak.

She's out of my life
She's out of my life
And I don't know whether to laugh or cry
I don't know whether to live or die
And it cuts like a knife
She's out of my life

It's out of my hands
It's out of my hands
To think for two years she was here
And I took her for granted I was so cavalier
Now the way that it stands
She's out of my hands

So I've learned that love's not possession
And I've learned that love won't wait
Now I've learned that love needs expression
But I learned too late

She's out of my life
She's out of my life
Damned indecision and cursed pride
Kept my love for her locked deep inside
And it cuts like a knife
She's out of my life

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Bigti Song Numero Uno

Yes, this heartbreak song is from James Blunt, the English singer and songwriter whose breakout hit single is 'You're Beautiful'. Goodbye My Lover is the fourth single in his debut album ‘Back to Bedlam’, and he wrote it with Sacha Skarbek. The song was, oddly recorded at a bathroom in Carrie Fisher’s home.

The words and piano loops on this music track give a truly heartrending poignancy about losing someone, an experience that most people have surely gone through at a point in their lives. James’ nasal falsetto in this track may sound distracting to some, but it compliments the unhurried tones that together convey a moving song that is sure to stir a listener’s emotions.

Did I disappoint you or let you down?
Should I be feeling guilty or let the judges frown?
'Cause I saw the end before we'd begun,
Yes I saw you were blinded and I knew I had won.
So I took what's mine by eternal right.
Took your soul out into the night.
It may be over but it won't stop there,
I am here for you if you'd only care.

You touched my heart you touched my soul.
You changed my life and all my goals.
And love is blind and that I knew when,
My heart was blinded by you.
I've kissed your lips and held your hand.
Shared your dreams and shared your bed.
I know you well, I know your smell.
I've been addicted to you.

Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.

I am a dreamer and when i wake,
You can't break my spirit - it's my dreams you take.
And as you move on, remember me,
Remember us and all we used to be
I've seen you cry, I've seen you smile.
I've watched you sleeping for a while.
I'd be the father of your child.
I'd spend a lifetime with you.
I know your fears and you know mine.
We've had our doubts but now we're fine,
And I love you, I swear that's true.
I cannot live without you.

Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.

And I still hold your hand in mine.
In mine when I'm asleep.
And I will bare my soul in time,
When I'm kneeling at your feet.

Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.

I'm so hollow, baby, I'm so hollow.
I'm so, I'm so, I'm so hollow.
I'm so hollow, baby, I'm so hollow.
I'm so, I'm so, I'm so hollow.

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It's About Time

I changed my mind. Sorry.

My morose days are over and it’s time for me to get out of the cocoon made by the evil ministrations of some people who cannot live with the fact that happiness, indeed, exists in this world. Sorry, but no amount of harassment, intimidation, bullying, and threats can stop me from writing nor keep me away from blogging, neither.

I deeply apologize because it is uncomfortable for me to write about this topic as I was gone for a while, but I strongly feel that the time has come for me to react and defend myself. It is just about time.

I have to say that this year, right from the beginning, has not been good to me. I lost so much that I felt it could well be the end of everything. But I held on. As hard as I could. Steadfastly. And it was a struggle, if I must say. A difficult one, and it was a continuous battle against my wit. An intellectual challenge, a moral argument, a spiritual clash. And I dealt with all the difficulties with decency, sincerity, and honesty. For my upbringing can only allow me that and not less.

And then sometime last month, in the sweltering heat of April, something very, very good happened. Something unexpected, unforeseen, and totally bewildering. But good. So good that it felt like Christmas morning to me. So good that it didn’t seem real at all. It still doesn’t feel real after more than a month, and I pinch myself from time to time if only to convince me that indeed, this beautiful thing is happening and that I am in the middle of it.

Then again, the cruelty of this world kept up with me. While I was busy basking delightfully in my new nest of joy, happiness, and bliss, an evil gloom crept in like those thick, dark rain clouds.

It all started with text messages sent to my friends meant to warn them about me and my “shady character”. The person began calling me names, and inventing things in his/her effort to discredit me. This person claims to be someone from one of my previous relationships and told my friends to stay away from me because I am simply bad, evil, and not to be trusted. She said I destroyed her, broken her family, and even took her away from her friends. She even maligned my family by calling us witches. A family of quacks, that’s what she said. Wow. That was a huge blow on me. Call me names, that is fine. But touch my family and you’re going to hell.

At this point in my life as a near-middle-age-adult, I can confidently say that anyone can call me names, and say anything bad that they want to say about me, for whatever their reasons are, but I won’t budge. Why should I?

Why should I feel bothered if there is not even the minutest amount of truth in their words? Why should I fear anyone when I knew in my heart that I didn’t hurt anyone? Why should I feel intimidated by these people who do not even have the decency to at least come out in the open and say it to my face how bad I am and how much they hate me? Why should I falter when my conscience is pure?

Let me make this clear, that I am not giving this person the dignity of this situation because of an entire blog post dedicated to her. I am writing this as a farewell note to her evil ministrations and malicious deeds. I am writing this to send her the message that unlike her, I do not have the habit of intimidating and harassing girls and women to coerce them into a relationship with me. That unlike her, I do not force people to stay friends with me. That unlike her, I treat friends and colleagues with so much respect and nothing less.

You underestimated me, you know. You underestimate me if you think I am incapable of courting and winning women's hearts just because I can. And you know what, I just so hate it when people underestimate me.

Your days are over, you scheming bitch.

If you want your own woman, go get one. But stay away from mine. Because if you do come near her, I will turn your world upside down for you. Whether you like it. Or not.

And lastly, Miss Scorned-Jilted-Dropped-Ditched Woman, I want to tell you this, in your face, so read on.

I am my father’s daughter. I am Clement Dionglay. And yes, I feel so sorry for you.

Sorry dear, but I have arrived. When you were simply too late. Sadly.

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Snippets from Two Weeks of Semi-Hibernation

• Pancit bihon pino from Twinkle Pop tastes sooo good with tomato catsup. Yes, it does... And no, I'm not infanticipating.
• Toasted white bread with loads of butter and jam dunked and soaked in fresh milk tastes just heavenly! Again, I am not infanticipating.
• Watching consecutive cheesy movies makes one, what else, cheesy. Ayayay!
• Listening to cheesy love songs makes one, again, what else, cheesy. Pambihira... Walastik!
• Cheesy movies + cheesy love songs + short love poems = BIGGEST CHEESINESS... Walastik talaga!!! Puro cheese na lang! Always na lang...
• I can go on for two days straight without sleep. Does that make me an insomiac already? Hu knows? (Seriously, my sleeping pattern of late has been driving me nuts...)
• Spooky creatures are everywhere, especially before midnight... I got spooked while walking towards Raymundo Gate last week... Coming from the back of the UPLB Main Library...
• Deserted streets look sad...
• Dark, deserted streets are fun...
• And being 34, single, and living solo is indeed fun, fun, fun!!! (Believe me, it is...)

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On Happiness, Among Other Things

Yesterday, our grandmother celebrated her 79th. In keeping with the family’s tradition, we got together and were all too happy to spend the day with her and be with one another. Ours is an extra-large family and so it was a day-long affair that started with breakfast and ended with the pot-luck merienda senna. Lunch was as sumptuous as sumptuous can be; with Tatay around as our designated cook (Laicka insists we call him chef).

The kids were rowdy and noisy the whole day, while the teens were either playing cards or watching television. And all the while the elders—my aunts and uncles, including Lola—teased me about my impending spinsterhood. Oh, well… It’s never easy being the eldest apo…

Later in the day, while everyone is full with food, laughter, and stories, my niece came to me and asked me a profound question. “Tita, happy ka ba?” And I said, “Of course, baby. Tita is very, very happy.” But she followed it through with another question. “Why are you happy? Can you describe happiness to me?”

The moment she asked me the third question, I was almost crying. How can an eight-year-old kid ask these questions? And so I did try my best to describe happiness and being happy to her. I brought her to the balkonahe and sat her on a very comfortable and cozy spot. I asked her if she is comfortable, and she said yes. And then we talked about happiness and being happy.

I told her to look back to the day when her Dad brought home her pet rabbit…

I told her to look back to the day her baby sister Louise was born…

I told her to look back at the last Christmas morning we spent at Lola’s house… when she got her cash register toy and Lolo gave her a thousand-peso bill…

I told her to look back at her last recognition day when she was given an outstanding pupil award (that’s the highest honor her school gives to top students)…

After the last “look-back”, she smiled. She understood it all.

Looking back now, I do not want to think that my niece does not have a concept of happiness at all. She knew all about it, and yet, she needed to talk about it. And she felt that the best person to discuss it with her was me. And it felt good to talk about happiness and being happy with a child. It made me feel like a child, too.

But Laicka’s questions brought me so much… Emotion, remembrances… and even pain. But why pain? It brought me pain because it is only with pain that I recognized happiness… But that’s not what I told my niece, after all…

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Summer's Thunderstorms

Right. There is a raging thunderstorm outside. A strong, angry, powerful thunderstorm. And as heavy sheets of rain continue to pound heavily on the roof, the noise drowns my foggy mind as I struggled further to give light and meaning to my current emotional dilemma. I sat by the window in my third floor office and watched as the wildness went on outside. And while the thunderstorm unleashed its power, another thunderstorm continues to rage somewhere, deep in the tiniest spaces of my mind.

I watched the rain as it raged on. I watched as water poured in a rush from above in a fitful state, somewhat frenzied, like shattered glass. And like the soil below now soft because of the rain, I gave in. I let the overwhelming power rage on inside. I acquiesced to it. And it felt good. It felt good to give in. It felt good to have a finality, a conviction, an end. A surrender. It felt good to be free. Liberated, at last.

Outside, the skies began to clear, bringing the thunderstorm to a halt. It's funny how abruptly it stopped as wildly as it started. Then again, little droplets of rain continued to fall.

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Rain Rain, Go Away...

All this rain is driving me nuts. It's been raining since Saturday! It's Thursday already and it's still raining. Good God. My feet are tired and aching from wearing a leather almost-waterproof shoes. Makes me miss the dry, sunny days when I can wear those super-comfy Converse Chuck Taylors...

My red Chucks, taken on a Monday morning sometime last month.

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Important Notebooks

The two important notebooks in my life right now:

my blue Journal and my 2007 Starbucks diary planner.

Can't live without them, really. Just as I got busy with personal and family stuff over the weekend, I was unable to write anything in my Journal at all. I felt so guilty and irresponsible, that when I saw it in my bag last night I wanted to hug it. (sigh) But well, all that guilt went away after I wrote five pages of Journal entry to recap everything for the weekend. Redeemed myself, eh?

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Back to Basics

People are probably confused why they now see me use an old Nokia 1100 and an even older Nokia 3100. I’m tempted to ask, what’s wrong with these phones, anyway? Friends are surprised to see me enjoy these two phones nowadays because they used to see me with high-tech phones and gadgets.

Barely a year ago, I carry in my backpack a small purse that contains, more or less, the following: a Nokia N70 (a craze at that time), a Sony Ericsson K608i, an HP1940 iPaq (with a wireless keyboard), a 6GB iPod Mini, and a Creative Zen Nano Plus. Also in the backpack are: Kodak digital camera, my 80GB external hard drive, two USB flash drives, USB card reader, USB port hub, three Phillips headsets, and an assortment of Cross, Parker, Sheaffer, and Inoxcrom pens. For safety reasons, my backpack’s zippers are always locked using two Master combination locks. Whew!

Fast forward to today.

I still carry the same backpack, and the same purse. (Grin.) But in the purse now are: two Nokias (1100 and 3100) and the iPod Mini. I still bring along the camera, external hard drive and flash drives, because clearly, they constitute a reasonable necessity. The card reader and USB port hub are either at the office or at home, but I have stopped carrying them with me.

There are new additions, though. (Big grin.) In my bag are my Starbucks 2007 planner, a personal journal that still needs a name (Grin. Grin. Grin.), and another notebook for what else, note-taking. (Big grin.) Also, there are more pens in my bag now, as I love to color code (and I love to hoard, according to Lilia). I purchased a set of three Pilot G-TEC-C4s (Bigger grin.) and a set of five HaloZee twin highlighters. Currently, I am drooling over the set of available-only-in-the-US Pilot G2 gel pens.

In terms of data management, I can say that I have truly gone back to the basics now. It didn’t take me overnight to do that, though, and quite a number of reasons contributed to this ‘historic’ change.

My iPaq. The PDA that is supposed to make life easier for me (and for others, too) only made things worse. I had an earlier version (1930) which worked well, and so I thought the 1940 will work along fine, if not better. But I was wrong. Sometimes it doesn’t synchronize with either my PC or laptop. At times, the battery is suddenly drained of power even after a full charge. But what busted my patience was when it didn’t turn on minutes before an important presentation at a staff meeting. All of my notes were in the iPaq, and I had to reconstruct everything out of memory. So after seven months of using an iPaq1940, I decided I had to part with it.

My 3G phones. Like so many Filipinos, I liked to keep up with the growing trend in cellphone fashion. So that when the first batch of 3G phones came in the market, I immediately grabbed not one, but two new handsets. For the price I had to pay for them, they were clearly a big investment. And so when the time for need came along, I was forced to ditch them and learn a hard lesson: I only need a phone that can send and receive calls and messages. Period. It was a big heartbreak for me and it was a lesson learned the hard way, but still a lesson, anyway.

Going back to the basics did not come to me overnight. And it obviously became possible through a variety of reasons. But for several months now, I have been immensely enjoying a less-electronically-constipated life. My Nike backpack is heavier with three notebooks and dozens of pens inside, but I have no regrets. Not one bit. It’s a little tough for my back, but the satisfaction I get when I read my notes and journal entries is indescribable. Call it OA, but it's an amazing experience. I admit missing TextTwist and Bejewelled in the iPaq, but I guess I'll just consider it one among my life's big (and not-s0-big) trade-offs.

For now, at least. (Biggest grin.) Tomorrow is another day.

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On to Happier Things…

Now that I am slowly getting back into the regular grind of things, let me post my ‘new’ wish list.




1. Notebook.

I want a Moleskine 2008 Diary!!! Woohoo!!! May be a good change from using Starbucks Diaries for three years now. Moleskine is a bit expensive, though. Hmmm…





2. Bag.

A new Timbuk2™ “Track Day Pack” backpack. It is waterproof, has a rubberized bottom, and it’s blue!!! It also has a headphone port. Wow. Not that I am in a hurry to dump my old, reliable Nike. It’s still doing fine and looks as new as it was the day I bought it. But I’d really love to have a Timbuk2™ backpack.


3. Shirts.

Any colorful, unique, comfortable shirts will do to replace my older ones that are beginning to fray and fade. Ehehe. I want the Nike “BALLS” tee I saw last week.

4. Jeans.

I own more than a dozen pair of jeans, but I want to buy one with the “distressed” look. Could be Diesel, Dickies, or Lee.

5. Sneakers.

A pair of Rocket Dog™ “Joint” sneakers. I am drooling at this beauty. Although I will always be a Chucks lover, other sneaks are welcome every now and then.

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How I Got By

Most of us go through significant experiences in our lives. Some are hilarious and even comical, leaving us breathless with laughter. Some are bold, daring, and risky, while others are awfully dreadful. And while others are trivial, some experiences, however, are just so difficult that we are left panting and heaving in their intensity. In time, through our experiences, we find ourselves changed, if not tainted.

The two months of summer had been surprisingly easy for me. Though I was mostly miserable because of Lilia’s departure, so much was happening at any given time that I forgot to dwell on my loss. I became busy adjusting to apartment living. Though living alone could be depressing at times, it is only proper to say that it has also brought me immense joy and peace.

In June, a certain gloom crept in. I could not explain it, but it felt like a huge weight was slowly pressing me down to the ground. In spite of my efforts to liven things up, everything went askew for me.

Though I will always remember June as the month when I became a published writer, I certainly cannot forget the difficult financial woes I went through during this time. It was a difficult struggle coming up with the copious amounts I needed. And so after covering all the unexpected expenses in June, I could barely make ends meet in July. It breaks my heart to look back at the difficulties I had to deal with. I remember being stranded by a downpour one Sunday afternoon. While waiting it out, I browsed a shop’s collection of cheap second hand books and saw Nicholas Sparks’ Message in A Bottle selling for 179 Philippine pesos. Sadly, I had to turn away.

By mid-July, my desperation hit an alarming level, but I kept my composure. I kept my composure so that nobody knew or noticed how troubled I am. And though I was panicking like hell, I tried my best to remain calm. I tried my best to practice grace under all the pressure. Oh, there were tears in between, but those painful tears were all shed in privacy. There were many sleepless nights, but only my bedroom saw my restlessness. In my moments of despair and pain, silence became my refuge and ally. In my sadness and fear, prayers shielded me and fortified my faith.

July was hard, it is true. And grueling. Yet it liberated me. It was definitely a humbling of a different kind. It taught me perseverance, tolerance, and best of all, acceptance. It blessed me with patience and peace, and built my faith. It brought me back honor and dignity. But most of all, it gained me respect.

And that was how I got by in all the ugliness of July.

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Thanks, Inez

"Bigti" Songs? Hahaha!!! You had me laughing so hard I almost feel off my chair while figuring out why a lot of people from South Africa share just one email address.

Thanks to my friend Inez, and her blog entry called "Bigti Songs" which she dedicated to me.

Hay, Nez. I really miss the old days when you and Biboy were still here.

When we'd hang out in his apartment and watch the evening news.

When the three of us would go to JJ and just drink all the alcohol we wanted.

When we'd laugh so hard at private jokes and read all those gay Star Wars script (remember?).

Those days we spent together as friends (more than mere officemates) are great, if not the best. Miss you guys!

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A Malnourished Weekend

SATURDAY

Breakfast: A mug of cold Milo and Skyflakes.

Lunch: Lucky Me Instant Noodles (Bulalo flavor)

Dinner: 2 slices of Buko Pie from El-Mare

(No snacks. Yup. No snacks for me.)

SUNDAY

Breakfast: a slice of cold Buko Pie

Lunch: 2 slices of cold Buko Pie and a bag of garlic and onion flavored Brean Pan

Dinner: Steamed Jasmine Rice and Tuyo flakes dipped in a mix of vinegar, sweet onions and lots and lots of siling labuyo!!!

And it all started with Friday night's dinner of Purefood's canned sisig...

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An Idea Gone Wild and Wilder Gets Scrapped

It is quite obvious that the last two months of my life is far from blissful. I really do not know for sure how I get by. People may shun me for being too emotional, and some even think that I am just over-reacting. Hell, no. I guess no human being would want to go through the pain I go through, and it is my deepest prayer that everyone is spared from this emotional torture.

This dilemma has led me to consider an idea that has long been haunting me. Well, let us also include the fact that watching more “L Word” episodes lately has also influenced my current outlook. And that elders in the family have been constantly nagging me about my “solitary” life.

It all started with Season I’s pilot episode, where Bette and Tina decided to have a baby and began to search for a sperm donor. And so I said, why can’t I? Have a baby, I mean. For a start, I thought of adoption. I then sought the ideas and opinion of my closest friends, whose unanimous response is negative. They all want me to have a baby, yes. But they want me to have my own baby. Uh-oh. Then it became a very complicated idea.

Complicated because I do not know if I can handle it. I understand that it’s a wild idea and it entails a lot of careful planning and drastic adjustments on my part. Should I decide to pursue it.

And the biggest, most nagging, scariest question is HOW do I do it? Who would be the genetic donor in the first place? And granted that some kind soul agrees to be the donor, how do I proceed with the whole process of pregnancy? How would I deal with it living alone? How would it affect my work and career? Would I be able to keep my job if the office learns that I am pregnant and do not have a husband? (Sigh…) And later on, how do I deal with motherhood as a single parent?

Oh, hell. Why did I ever consider this idea in the first place?

See? It’s truly only a wild idea, after all. And finally, the verdict for me is to simply scrap it. Yup. Scrap the idea. Then again, the words of my godmother linger in my mind, when she told me that I am not getting any younger, and that I must do something about my life while I still can so I will not regret not having done it later on in life.

But still, it will always remain that--an idea. A scrapped idea.

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