buOyanCy bLues

What is it about swimming that absolutely takes away the thought of living happy out of me?

Ladies and gentlemen, it's the floating.

Yes, I am aware that many will scoff at this. Floating, reputedly, is the *freaking* easiest thing to do. With making bubbles as an exception.

Jeeezus. It's not the act of floating that scares me. It's what it stands for. I can float. I *know* that I will float. Physics tells me so. (Everyone else does too.) Screw that. I'm an intelligent human being.

It's the letting go. Relinquishing your control over yourself. Relaxing.

Bobbing on the surface of the chlorine-ravaged water, with nothing to hold on to but yourself. And your breath.

And before that, during, after, forever... feeling the ledge seemingly slip away from the desperate grasp of your wrinkled fingers.

...

Hm. I will make a poem.

Saya. :)

mR. gOdey's lAdiEs

Cross-eyed and migraine-y. Today was, er, fun. With my history professor giving me a side stitch with all those senseless jokes and meano sarcasm (heart that), my filipino teacher (alas, a mere substitute) making me think and my cw professor making me feel... well... writer-ish... Yes, even Professor Xavier is getting to me.

Cleaning up the fine arts program office, inventory of books. Enjoy, amidst the dust and the occasional little wormie.

Life is good. But I think it's only because it's not tragic.

Aw, that's sad.

boRedOm ruLes

I really doubt that anyone's going to read this. An exercise in futility, this entire blog. Whatever. It's fun. The six random thingies, I mean.

So. Six random thingies about meeeh:

1. I take baths with the lights off. I don't like light when im bathing, don't like to *see* things. (Maybe the darkness is an extension of my disrupted sleep, I don't know.) I bathe early morning and in the afternoon, when the day is almost lips-to-lips with the night. In cases where it's pitch-black, the lights are on but my eyes are closed, opening them only when i need to reach for my shampoo and soap.

I assure you that I clean myself very well in the dark and yes, I have seen myself naked.

2. When the alarm goes off in the morning, I immediately wake up, only to turn it off. Then, I'll lie back down on my bed, chanting, "Five minutes lang, five minutes lang," and then, five minutes later, I'm asleep. I wake up an hour later, dangerously close to my first class. Yey.

3. I am a blubbering idiot when it comes to disasters and whatnot. And here it thought that i would be the one shouting, "Don't panic, guys! Superman is here!" But nooooo. When our retreat house burst into flames and it was pure pandemonium, I sat on the wet grass, shoeless, wringing my hands, crying like mad and counting to five over and over and over and over again. Go figure.

4. When I'm at home during the weekends and my mom is in bed, reading a book, I jump in beside her, roll *really* close to her, burrow in wherever free crevice I find, and moan, "Moooo-ommmeeeeee-eeee." This annoys the hell out of my mom. I love it.

5. People back home (my classmates from high school, mostly) constantly fear for my "moral standing." They think I've gone off to scary ol' Ateneo to smoke three packs of designer ciggies before lunchtime, drink starbucks non-stop in the day, drink liqour non-stop in the evening, gone topless in school, walked around naked in the P.E. showers, hooked up with a hot girl, gotten myself pregnant with some random guy. Asus.

6. I like to sing out loud. when im parked in front of my laptop, with earphones plugged in my ears, I hear nothing but sweet, blissful music. And I belt it all out. The screamo parts in screamo-band songs, the bridges in punk, that impossible high note in indies, a bloodrushing chorus in poprock, even the beat of the war drums in the background -- I sing it. Thus, destroying the natural balance of the life of whoever can hear me. Say, a five-mile radius?

Hai. That's done.

whAt nOw?

my history professor, whom i will call His Royal Highness, is a nutjob. he insists that we call him a multitude of titles or his "imagined" french name. he lauds the shape of his butt. he detests pink, saying that if we wear the color, he will forever be picking us for recitation. if we annoy him, he will send us to bellarmine to get chalk, since technically, he can't kick us out. he is the beginning and the end. he eats college sophomores for brunch.

i heart, i heart, the sarcastic son of a beach.

a bit anxious of the oral thingies and presentations but it's all good. i love european history. anyway. especially the Spanish Inquisition and Henry VIII's wivesss.

and then, we went to creative writing class, under prof. brion. scared shitless. promise. paalam. shift na'ko. (but since i totally read people wrong when i first meet them, mehopes that all is good.)

pero im really thankful for going through miss chona lin for an entire year. hanep ang feedback dun eh. sapul ka dun sa sore spots mo, and she makes you realize that you had sore spots.

i will be like a sponge in my cw class. a sponge with a pen.

and then, fil. sabi ni wed, siya daw yung pinakamahirap na teacher sa filipino. aba, kaysuwerte ko naman kung ganun. combined powers of mr. apolonio, fr. javellana, mr. crisostomo, coach mac, His Royal Highness, prof. brion and mr. popa... well, uh... teka. i forgot my math.

basta, basta, basta. sabi nga ng alcoholics anonymous, "one day at a time."

puLl tHe tRigGer

i woke up at 2 AM. that means, i waited, in bed, in the dark, for five and half hours for my first class. which i walked to.

i am *not* pissed off.

my first class was socio and anthro, under mr. apolonio. it's extremely interesting and i think it'll be helpful, since im writing and i write about people with other people and all that. it's great. and he makes it interesting.

orals ang finals. waaah.

tapos, nabawasan kami. lagas. haha. pero may mga nadagdag naman. good luck sa amin!!! nung break, i discovered na super-duper population explosion yung ateneo. pucha, ang dami-daming freshies! nakakabaliw, sobra. ang sarap mangagat ng tao. haha. pero i feel loads of empathy for freshies. i still feel like one, sometimes.

and then, it was aesthetics. that meant getting lost in gonzaga hall, and then entering what has been dubbed as "the Twilight Zone" to get to the airless classroom.

fr. javellana's our prof. i bow to him. i like art. very much, in fact. and he reminds me of a santa claus on vacation. oh, and i need to buy 500 pesos worth of photocopied materials. i really, really, *really* hope i like this book. naghihirap na nga ako eh. (sigh) the things i do for a better future. haha, walang sense.

after that, we flew to theo. in normal days, that meant 10 minutes from gonzaga to ctc. and in theo, if you're late, cut na. ang ganda ng lola mo. buti na lang 9 cuts and puwede. before the class itself, ang daming rumors na naglipana about mr. crisostomo, ranging from the silly to the plain evil. i just don't know. he reminds me of a priest sa molino. the one who stops in the middle of a sermon to chastise a member of the congregation who's daydreaming. god, i hope he's nice. i need all the points with the Lord that i can get.

and then, after one and a half hours, the highlight of my day, PE! yes, my swimming class... haha. i am sooo scared. 14 lang kami sa class tapos yung 4 pa doon eh exempted kasi varsity ng arneow. wow. good for you. tapos sa klase namin, maraming accomplished swimmers. lozada, milo, swimming varsity ng st. paul. pucha, ang saya. coach mac enumerated the things we needed to accomplish. things like swimming, diving, swimming, threading, breathing under water, floating, swimming, swimming, changing into swimsuits before the time, swimming, understanding the entrance-and-exit procedure, swimming, strokes, swimming. mainly, swimming. what scares me kasi is the weightlessness. surrendering to the water and floating. and moving underwater. i am too long. i feel like a bony octopus.

ay, eto ang malupit. ang uniform namin eh yung one-piece bathing suit with shower cap. ladies and gentlemen, abangan niyo ang kagilagilalas na pagbilad ni sasha martinez. (haha, parang tuyo.) i will look like an abnormally long and thin penis with an extremely tiny condom. curse the utter shapelessness of my body.

after class, i approached coach mac and told him that i have absolutely no experience in swimming.

coach mac: "good!"
me: (thinking, you don't understand, mr. sadist-person.) "coach, the only thing i can do is stand in the pool and wave my arms. at sa gilid lang lagi ng pool. minsan pa nga, hawak ko si mommy."
coach mac: "hindi, hindi, okay lang yun! ako bahala sa'yo. lalangoy ka rin!"

said the spider to the fly.

i think the coach sees me as one of those social welfare projects. he was really gleeful when i told him na i couldn't swim. gee, thank you sir. you shall be on my tombstone, a week from now.

yun lang, yun lang, yun lang. helluva first day. ang hirap, ang daming gagawing bago, mas mahirap pa. i'll be constantly challenging myself so i can save the world in the future! yey.

*exit theme.*

yAnkeRsPitChuR

i *knew* that sooner or later, i'd have to wake up from this super-extended sleepfest. and it's, like-uh, now na.

harrghachew.

(ah, the disgusting sounds the body makes...)

i commuted from cavite to paranaque, with my mommy... and then we ate sa box o rice, where we decided na mongolian rice is waaay better than the jambalaya. popeye's does is it better.

i have to wake up extra, extra, extra early tomorrow. 7:30 first class ko, sa bellarmine pa. ayos.

and it's not helping that for the past 2 weeks, 2-4 PM ang normal wake-up time ko.

see you, ateneo. in the meantime, ima give myself pep talks and have therapy sessions with my moose.

yOu gOt me On tHat oNe

moments ago, i was thumbing through a man magazine -- no, not a girlie mag. it was esquire. yes. that's it. esquire. it's the issue that has britney spears on the cover. she's wearing a cashmere sweater and nothing more. oh, by the way, did i mention that her hiney is shiny and bare?

okay, now that i have, i am happy.

well that was just a way to pass the time. a sort of distraction. same with the tons of glamour magazines and reader's digests and national geographics. and drool-fest sessions on the mountains of throw pillows on my lola's bed, while listening to maria mena. oh, oh, oh.

and all this to escape this enormous pothole in the middle of my story. it staaaanks, i tell you. it's there. i mean, i can taste it na eh. im in the middle of the blasted thing and my juice factory suddenly goes haywire. waaaah.

*sigh*

drinking dalandan soda, diet version. whereas the "real" one tastes sinfully remarkably like dalandan, the version im drinking now taste like the rind of the stupid fruit. really.

and this info, ladies and gents, comes from the part of my brain that confirmed the claim that sprite ice tastes like toothpaste.

good night. or good morning. whatever. i won't be sleeping for another four hours. shit.

siMpLe pLeAsuRes

I want a mustang in cherry red. Yes, yes. I do. And drive through the streets of Germany -- because there's no speed limit there. Singing Sting and The Police in a high, quavering voice... and then some german dude in a hulking Ducati pulls me over and then...

Strangely, a scene from some b-movie.

Okay, okay. Maybe just one of those scooters. I'll go brrft-brrft-brrrrrmmmfft through the cobbled avenues of Italy. No, no, wait. I've done that fantasy.

*sigh*

Maybe Amsterdam. Yep, all those windows and eighty-year-old granmas. Ay. Teka. I'll stick to the other side of the red-light district, thank you very much.

But, ah, the hash brownies...

Scenes from Eurotrip are surfacing once more.

<<-->>

But there's this widdle fantasy of me in this calming bedroom that has kept me going these past days. Uh-huh. And in this calming bedroom, there is a gigantic bed with comforters upon comforters. Beside it, there's a wide desk with a slim laptop on top of it.

Yes, my idea of heaven.

See you around, kiddos.

mOve ovEr, eStHer deAr

nobody laugh but i signed up for swimming class. yes, i am aware that i cannot swim. i am also aware that if the class grading style depends on whether you float or sink when you're tossed into the pool from a twenty-foot distance, i am sure to fail.

great. fantastic.

mArRy mE, feRrEira!!!

i'm going to blab like the idiot that i am. fine. that's perfectly owrayt for me.

watched the pba wildcard game sa araneta and it freaking rocked!!! first game was talk n' text versus some other team that won the said game (sta. lucia, i think). i saw asi taulava and i soooo wanted to get his autograph but i was scared he'd bite my head off so wag na lang. talo sila eh so init ng ulo niya. owwww.

i was with my tito and tita and the rest of the batac-belen clan. nasa patron seats kami, c/o tito allan (caidic) and i was thinking na since halos napuno namin yung sa side ng ginebra (actually, likod), nalugi yung araneta samin kasi free yung tix. haha, wawa naman sila. eh we're all basketball freaks--esp my tito, who was screaming like a madman. well, actually, like most me, he screams like a madman rin naman kahit sa TV nya lang pinapanood. oh, well.

anywaaaaay, the ginebra game was such a kick-ass event of my life that i just can't freaking talk about it. haha, we win!!!

okay, so i don't know that much about basketball. don't ask me about the stats cuz wala. onti lang yung players na kilala ko and if i do, it's because a) cute sila and b) magaling sila. usually, it's the first reason, haha. but i enjoy watching the games, getting caught up in the excitement, the fever. iba kasi eh. lalo na sa pinas.

i think basketball is in our blood. like sappy telenovelas that feature the heroine getting a bracelet from a mud puddle by her teeth.

what i do know that these men are gigantic. that i worship the ground mark caguioa dribbles on. that ferreira is waaaay cuter that holper. that menk is sooo calm. that the ginebra kings have always been my team, its roots dating back to my childhood, where i watched it with my screamin-like-a-madman grandfather while we ate vienna sausage and he drank san mig beer from the bottle.

oh, man, i lab this game.

<<-->>

ay, ay, story lang: it was my tito who took the picture. we approached aduccul tas sabi ng tito ko, "pare, pa-picture lang. buntis eh, pinaglilihian ka."

eh i didn't hear what he said kasi maingay sa araneta. so, after i shook hands with the dud -- he had BIG hands, i tell you -- i posed for a pic. tas, he turned to me and asked, "buntis ka, congratulations!"

owemgee! i punched my tito in the arm before saying (well, squeaking) "no! i'm only sixteen!"
but he took my near-yelling amiably enough. it's okay. quits lang kami kasi hindi ko naman siya kilala eh, haha. :)

tas look at the woman sa likod namin, yung nasa gitna ng heads namin. yep, that's my tita, haha.

[argh] ayaw mag-load ng photoblogger. next taym na lang po! [/argh]

<<-->>

dios mio. like i said before, in one of my previous posts: sa pilipinas, it's either politics or basketball.

cuT tHe frEsh pAsta

"Methink'st thou art a general offence and every man should beat thee."
-- William Shakespeare, taken from "All's Well That Ends Well."

inSomNiaC wiTh fRozEn tOes

i can't sleep. i don't want to. this is one of those days that i don't want to end kasi im doing too much and there's no more time. 'cuz if it went on and on, i can *not* do the "important" things.

sometimes, i just want to be someone else.

no. not sometimes.

bElLa reGiNa

i need to go to rome. really, i do. the renaissance, anne rice's vampires, the churches and cathedrals. the ridiculously breathtaking art. the language -- oh, those rolling r's! the pasta. the pizza. the wine w/c i will soon learn to drink like c2.

strolling down the streets holding a frappe in hand, palazzos at the horizon. the great italian novel tucked underneath one arm and my pulitzer-recipient-to-be manuscript under the other.

hot italian men in peasant shirts, on their scooters.

i *need* to go to rome.

my mOm thiNks iVe goNe speLuNkiNg

am in pque, downloading ebooks at 1KB/s per 55 minutes. the files are a total of 190 MB. ang saya.

my mommy lily decided to demolish the bodega underneath the stairs (sa harry potter, "cupboard under the stairs," haha :p ) and put in a walk-in closet. syempre, mukhang dinemolish yung bahay ng lola ko ngayon. pero oks lang.. ang saya ko naman.

i unearthed a sidney sheldon book that used to be my mom's in college, a book about taosim pilfered from the up library (my mom or one of my aunts did that), a book called "wonderful earth" that i lurrrved in childhood and... (drumroll) ...my grandfather's journal.

yep, i am reading my grandfather's journal. he's nineteen here. he writes beautifully and his tone is... well, unbelievable.

"8/6/59: Woke up late. Just read "The Case of the Lazy Lover," a Perry Mason mystery. Nice pocketbook indeed."

he likes perry mason mysteries. reads one every other freaking day. ima go hunting for one.

yep. yep. that's between elaborate sketches of rocks (my grandfather's a mining engineer) and schedules for basketball games ("the juniors lost to the Ateneo Eaglets for the second time"). tucked in between the yellowed pages are little notes from women. different women. (daddy poop was the frat lord of mapua's "leading" fraternity.)

from 15/6/59: "Had an experience in the theater. A couple was talking about me. I did not mind them at all and what I heard, I just let it enter one ear and exit from the other."

and then...

[teka...] have to cut this short. widdle cousins want to use the internet. hai. [/teka...]