Thursday, August 26, 2004
I had a final meeting with the HR Head of the company I have been wanting to join (at last, my patience and picky-ness paid off), and they are finally giving me a job offer. As I was waiting for her in their training room, my eyes fell on a poster that hung on the wall. It was one of those motivational posters that almost every company has...
Ah... words of wisdom indeed. I knew a number of people who would benefit a great deal from that statement. It made me a little thoughtful for a while.
So anyway, I waited some more. After checking out my nails for the umpteenth time (I should have brought something to read...), I was getting impatient. I looked around the room and noticed a handwritten sign that was obviously previously posted on the door, in thick red ink, no less...
A lightbulb moment ruined by a "duh" sign. Oh well, at least there was a balance.
Friday, August 20, 2004
I was looking for something in my room when I came across a box I hadn't opened in a while. Since I couldn't remember what I stored in there, I opened it and rummaged through its contents. In the middle of my old readings, musical pieces, notebooks and casette tapes, I was quite surprised at what I found...
My old journal.
I stared at it for a few seconds before I sat on the edge of my bed and opened the cover...
June 21, 1999
I immediately closed it again, not exactly sure why I wasn't ready to re-read the entries. As if in slow-motion, I opened it again, and I began to flip through the pages quickly, just glancing at words and words of what I had so emotionally written many years ago. They were so full of angst, hatred and occasional shallow happiness. An isolated case of the all-knowing, self-righteous, idealistically misled UP student. The timebomb waiting to explode. I was frozen in time for a moment, thoughts flooding my brain. I do not remember the careless, almost reckless girl who once sat down every night and religiously scribbled on that journal. It all seemed so ancient, like an almost-forgotten dream.
I would like to think that I am older and a bit wiser now, compared to her. Somewhere between then and now, life must have slapped me hard in the face and told me to wake up from my slumber. Somewhere in the middle of it all, I was rescued from drowning, and I was taught to swim to shore.
But is she really gone? The thought scared me.
As I set the old, battered journal aside and returned everything into the box. I paused for a second and buried it in my bottom-most drawer, under stacks and stacks of books and papers.
I guess that until I am not one hundred percent sure that I have reached the shore, I will be too afraid to look back.
Sunday, August 15, 2004
I am usually attracted to guys who are, as I like to call them, "mataba and maputi". There is something about guys who resemble polar bears that gets to me, and for some reason, lean and more muscular men do not usually make me look twice.
Yesterday afternoon though, while I was watching TV, a beautiful sight caught my attention... the Olympics was on, and the day's event was the swimming competition, men's division. Glorious bodies in skin-tight swimsuits, muscles flexing as they do the butterfly stroke, water dripping from their golden skin when they get out of the water. Ay caramba... I ended up entranced, watching this for an entire hour. God bless the 400 meter relay.
I can't wait for the men's diving competition.
Friday, August 06, 2004
Sometimes, in order for it to be possible for people to help you, you need to step away and let them do their magic.
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
I woke up Sunday morning with traces of waterproof mascara still on my eyelashes, my hair unattractively frizzy from going to bed straight after last night's bath, and a bad, BAD hangover. As I got up to get a glass of water, blurry images from the night before, as though captured by an out of focus video camera, kept entering my mind.
My Lolo's big 80th birthday party.
The long function hall filled with blue balloons and a sea of blue-clad family members.
My cousins and I getting together after the party for a night of drinking, laughing and family bonding.
The best sisig and chicharon bulaklak as only Pampanga can produce.
The band playing "Where is the Love?" to the crowded dancefloor.
Boxes and boxes of red wine.
As I sipped the cold water in my sister's kitchen, I silently cursed the seemingly innocent crimson liquid I so happily drank the night before. Later on, I found that the hangover would last until I went to bed that night... I have had shorter hangovers from drinking vodka and tequilla combined. Since my two sisters and my brother-in-law (who were more or less in the same state as I was) showed no signs of getting up in the next hour, I concluded that our 9am badminton game was good as cancelled, which was just as well. I was sure that none of the cousins were already up anyway. I felt my head spin again as I got up from the table to go back to bed.
Crazy night. I think I am going to be sober for a long , LONG time.
About the Author
I have quit trying to figure out the inner workings of God's mind. I have learned to just sit back and enjoy the ride.
Piazza
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