Next

Word is slowly getting out, mostly via my mom's Facebook status updates, but I thought I'd wait until I'd told most of my close friends, superiors, and colleagues before making any kind of announcement here.

I'm leaving the country in about a month and a half to attend graduate school in Singapore.

A few years ago, I started to feel that I needed to learn more about my field, but I didn't want to jump from company to company to do that, so I started looking at graduate programs and scholarships. Since Philippine universities didn't offer the kind of thing I was looking for, I figured, why not look outside, check out the programs in other countries, and maybe land somewhere all this Mandarin I've been studying might actually come in handy?

I didn't get a scholarship, but I did get into a good school. I understand that going will mean joining the legions of young adults with student debt, but given my age and the other plans I have for my life, this is a now-or-never thing. I'll just consider it an investment in my future, including the part of the near future that will involve working the debt off.

There is some hope for a scholarship, but it basically requires out-nerding everyone in my program to come out with the top GPA. I've never been the most insightful, original, or hard-working student, and I won't be surprised to meet classmates who know much, much more than I, but I have more motivation to chase grades this year than I ever have in my life.

I have a little over a month left to work things out with banks, get all the necessary paperwork done, and pack my bags. As far as my emotions are concerned, the last is the biggest deal right now.

I've often mentioned that I never fully unpacked in my current apartment; now I can say that it's mostly because I believed in the chance that I was simply going to leave again. All the stuff I never bothered to arrange just stayed in a huge pile on the floor; now, I just have to put everything back in a box.

I recognize, though, that "everything" is basically the past six years of my life, however you'd like to frame it — the first half of my 20s, the post-college wandering, the passage into adulthood, etc. — and all the associated heartache, triumph, and growth. I now have to decide how much of that I get to take with me — how much will be necessary and comforting, and how much will only literally and figuratively weigh me down.

Knickknacks will be wrapped in newspaper and cushioned with clothes I no longer wear. Appliances and furniture will be sold off to add to my small pool of funds. (Does anyone want a ref? A twin bed? A small cabinet? A drop-leaf table with matching chairs? A small rice cooker? A toaster oven? Modular Stack & Rack shelves in white?)

The diaries are going to be sent home, along with a prayer that neither my parents nor my lola will take it into their head to crack any of them open. I recognize that, like the diaries I left behind when I went to college, the diaries of the past six years must now enter my poorly hidden archive at home in Kalsangi. You can only carry your past around for so long.

Most of my books will be sent home, too, with the hope that those, someone will read. But as with my old diaries, seeing my books' spines on my shelf today calls back the version of myself that first read them. I've actually done a bit of rereading in the past few weeks, and it's easy to see that I can't make room for everything, however much I love it, on the shelf I'll be allotted in a month or so.

Off the top of my head, the things that I do plan to bring are a much, much smaller collection of books, a piece of sea glass from Sarangani Bay, the same photos of my family and friends I've had since my days at Eliazo Hall, my small collection of postcards, my ocarinas, some card games, my craft knife, and maybe a small bag of LEGO. I know those things aren't exactly necessities, and I expect I won't have a lot of time to make brick creatures or annoy my roommate with the shrill high D in "Danny Boy". But I know I'll like having those things with me.

I'll like having Cris with me, too. He was awarded a full scholarship to a different program, but at the same university. I know I can't expect to see him all the time, with all the nerdery I intend to take on, but I think living and studying in a different country with him will add new dimensions to the growth of our relationship. The adventure I'm about to go on seems even grander, knowing I get to go with him.

(For those of you clutching your pearls, we applied for slots at the dorm, and only married couples get to cohabit.)

I really can't express the gratitude due to my family for their support. Barring (great-)grandchildren/nephews/nieces, they haven't laid any demands or expectations on me, but I so want to make them proud.

Wish me luck.

thing-a-week 15: Eush and Vikki's birthday cards

There sure have been a lot of birthdays around here.

These amateurish thaumatropes were my cards for former co-workers Eush and Vikki. I was supposed to see them Monday for a reunion/birthday dinner, but work kept me late at the office. Oh, well.

I will probably redo Vikki's, because thaumatropes are supposed to have the same background on both sides.

things-a-week 13 and 14: Easter eggs and April's birthday card

I almost didn't get to work on something crafty last week, as I went home for the Easter break. But, on Saturday night, my mom asked Cris, my cousins, and me to prepare some eggs for the church egg hunt the next morning.

Mine are the island egg, the zigzags-and-dots egg, and the egg with the flower in the bottom left corner of this photo. Cris did the globe and some others (sorry, Cris; the globe's the one I remember best), and my cousins Paolo and Trixi did the rest.

As for this past week, it was April's birthday, so I made another birthday card.

Leavings: Liebster Award

Lance tagged me in a meme called the Liebster Award, only neither Lance nor I really know who's giving the award and why, so let's just go with it. Anyway, it's been a while since I've filled out a meme.

THE RULES

Share 11 facts about yourself.

Answer the awarder’s 11 questions.

Ask 11 questions of your own.

Tag 11 people.

THE FACTS

1

I like to sing. I sing a lot when I'm home alone. I am shy about performing on a stage, but if we happen to be at home watching American Idol, Glee, or a musical movie, or if a song I like comes on the radio, or if someone has a guitar and starts to play, I will sing along if I know the words and you are someone who will not judge me for it.

2

As my friends Nina and Vikki can attest, I'm not a hugger. The only people I make it a point to hug are my parents, my lola, Cris, and, occasionally, my brothers and cousins. The circle of people whose hugs I reciprocate is only a little bigger.

It's not you; it's me.

3

I attend church with my brother and consider myself a Christian, but I also consider myself agnostic. For all my belief, I still disagree and question, and for all my disagreeing and questioning, I still, somehow, believe. I just don't like to talk about it much, don't blog about it, avoid talking to conservatives about it, and have never talked about it with my parents, because I don't want anyone worrying about me going to hell.

Mostly, I hope no one back home reads this and blames my parents. They raised me well, but my faith is my own. If I'm wrong, then I'm wrong, and if there's a God, then I'll work it out with him.

4

I like watching bad TV, but it has to be "good" bad TV. The Kardashians, Gossip Girl, and America's Next Top Model are "good," for instance, but I can't sit through The Millionaire Matchmaker, True Beauty, or TMZ without wanting to throw something at the screen.

5

I love green things and grew up in a really green place; my mom is an excellent gardener. I don't think she passed her green thumb on to me, though. Every plant I've been given to personally care for has died.

6

I love to bake, but an oven won't fit in my apartment, so I just use Cris's when I can. I love baking cookies in particular, but I'd like to learn to make bread.

7

I prefer old hymns to contemporary worship music. Singing hymns somehow makes me feel closer to the community, while contemporary worship music seems very much a very individual thing. As it is, church is one of the few community things I do, and my involvement is minimal at best, so it's nice to have something that makes me feel a little more connected to other people at church.

8

I learned to play the ocarina late last year. I bought a four-hole pendant ocarina in Beijing just for fun, but if I'd known just how much I'd enjoy it, I would have splurged a little on a 12-hole sweet potato ocarina so I could play songs with more than one octave. I might ask someone to get it for me if they go to China or Taiwan this year.

9

I write, eat, and use my craft knife with my left hand but use scissors and kitchen knives with my right.

10

I like nice things, but I hate shopping. I also hate being badgered by sales clerks; I prefer clerks who let you browse in peace and help you only if you ask. I actually leave stores with badgering clerks even if I like the things inside. My idea of going shopping is wandering around, looking at things, and telling myself (and the clerks!) that I'll come back some other time. This is partly why very little of my wardrobe has changed in four years.

If something needs replacing, I spend a long time agonizing over whether to replace it with something durable but expensive or to just get something cheap to tide me over till I feel more ready for a costlier purchase. When I run out of time, because I spent so much of it being indecisive, I often end up buying something that is neither as cheap nor as durable as I'd like, and my dislike for shopping only deepens.

11

I wish I could have a dog, but no one would take care of it while I was at work. Besides, look what happened to my plants.

THE QUESTIONS

1: Do you dream in color?

Yes. I read somewhere that this depends on what kind of television you grew up with. I'd be more surprised if someone told me that they dream in black-and-white.

2: What did you do with your first salary?

Spent it on food, transpo, and books. I know you're supposed to send it home to your parents, but I felt uncomfortable with the idea. It's not that I wanted to keep the money for myself, it's that sending the money home would have meant asking Dad for money for two more weeks.

3. What are the books that you've read more than once?

There are a lot; these are just a few favorites.

American Gods
Good Omens
The Graveyard Book
Brief Lives
— all by Neil Gaiman; Good Omens was co-written with Terry Pratchett. Gaiman was a favorite author for a while, and I still like these books.

A Wrinkle in Time, by Madeleine L'Engle, and the rest of the series

A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams, and the rest of the series (but not the Eoin Colfer continuation)

The Arrival, by Shaun Tan

Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen; a recent reread, because I've been following the Lizzie Bennet Diaries on Youtube

The Martian Chronicles, by Ray Bradbury

4: Your dream job?

The protagonist of Pattern Recognition, by William Gibson, makes a living off a strange physical sensitivity to branding. In one scene, an agency flies her to London to show her a logo on a piece of paper. She takes one look at it, says, "No," and then spends the rest of the day enjoying the city (and spending her money).

Unfortunately, I do not feel physical revulsion upon seeing pictures of Bibendum, so something else will have to do.

I'm actually pretty happy with my current job, but if National Geographic or LEGO came calling, I'd be out in a second.

5: What's the greatest moral issue of our time?

I think human rights will be a big deal for as long as humans somewhere are denied them. It sounds generic, but really, when you talk about causes like women's rights, gay rights, children's rights, or ethnic minority rights, you are talking about human beings not being treated the way human beings deserve.

6: Describe how you look to a blind man.

I am an inch or two over five feet; I don't really measure because most other people are taller than me, anyway. My face is heart-shaped, with bony cheeks and chin, and I don't weigh much, but my body is starting to go soft from lack of physical activity. My hair is short. The skin on my face is uneven because of some mystery problem that comes and goes. The skin on my legs is a bit rough because of some parts that I scratch, stubbornly. I still think I'm pretty, but you know, that's just me.

7: Name three words you have a hard time spelling.

misspell

accommodate

embarrass

8: What are the places you like to visit someday?

Incomplete and in no particular order:

New York

Italy

Mexico

Singapore (again)

Beijing (again)

Japan

Taiwan

Palawan

Davao (it's been a while)

Sagada (again)

Mt. Pinatubo

Vigan (the last time didn't count)

Zanzibar

Cuba

Hong Kong

London

California (again)

and Kalsangi with kids, before my parents retire and move out.

8: Your greatest frustration?

That I didn't have a sport or sustained extracurricular activity as a child.

When we were in the US, I never asked my parents if I could go to gymnastics, be a cheerleader, or join something like Brownies or Girl Scouts, because they seemed like things only American girls could do. I didn't explicitly think that then, but it was something I felt deep down. Finally, when I was in the fourth grade, I joined the track team on an impulse and was kind of good, but then we moved back here.

I had piano lessons both in the US and here in the Philippines, but they stopped because we couldn't find a teacher who could teach me and Mikko after school on weekdays, and I didn't want to give up Saturdays doing other things.

9: How do you cope with loss?

The last time, I listened to some sad music (Adele, anyone?), then some great music (Ceremonials, by Florence + the Machine). I cried and wrote in my diary a lot, and wrote blog entries, semi-cryptic and not. I prayed. I worked on some crafts. I just kept working. I realized I could now enjoy people, activities, and ideas that, before, I'd felt compelled to make second priority. I looked for friends both old and new. I hung out with my brother and saw my family a little more. I learned Mandarin.

I'm thankful I haven't had to deal with the death of a loved one yet.

10: What's the next language you want to learn, and why?

Probably a southern Chinese language, like Hokkien or Cantonese, or Spanish. I think I should learn Spanish because it seems important to being Filipino (though I won't think you less Filipino if you only know one language), and I chose the Chinese languages like I chose Mandarin; they might be useful to me one day. But at this point, studying any language is more out of nerdiness than any actual career plans.

MY QUESTIONS

1

What is your favorite cheese?

2

Do you have a favorite building?

3

Any plans for Valentine's Day, or is it not your thing?

4

Tell me about an interesting scar or blemish.

5

If you were to go out without any identification and suddenly die, how would it happen, and where should we start looking for your body?

6

Regardless of whether you actually regret your major, if you could go back in time, what would you study instead, and why?

7

Complete this sentence: "When I was 10 years old, I thought I'd be __________ by the time I reached my current age (__)."

8

Describe your ideal dwelling.

9

How do you keep your current place tidy?

10

What's the most important decision you've made in the last five years?

11

If you had the country's or even the world's attention for one minute, what would you say?

THE PEOPLE

Audrey T.

Eush T.

Petra M.

Nash T.

Zoe D.

Dom C.

Carina S.

Nina D.

Joey R.

and anyone who comments and is not on this list (and not Lance).

If I've tagged you, it's either because you're more likely to actually blog or because I'm just curious. Kindly leave me a link to your post if you accept this award.


BONUS

Letter No. 12

I've drafted several letters in the past few days, but none of them have felt worth posting. It's all been mostly scribbles on ethnic/cultural identity, language, and my own neurosis, with some new thoughts but ultimately the same old dog. Perhaps I can offer you this xkcd comic, or this subnormality comic, so you can get a feel for the best and worst (respectively) of what I've been going through.

I'm not depressed; I've just been anxious about the future. It's one thing when it's New Year's Day, and you make all these plans and resolutions, because the path ahead seems so clear. It's another thing when it's one of the other 364.25 days of the year, when you've climbed down from the trees, the peak, the viewing deck, and you realize how rocky, dusty, muddy, or meandering the path is up close and under your feet, and the undergrowth's so thick you can't really see what you're walking toward, most of the time. Also, you're about to run out of water already and can't remember if the river is east, west, north, or south of you.

So, I'm not really sure I want to write about that, because I've written enough variations here and elsewhere to make it all seem redundant, to make me wonder if there's just something I still can't get over, something holding me back or making me go in these mental (!) circles day after day, week after week. I read some of my old blog posts, as far back as maybe late 2011, and I kept see-sawing between feeling wiser and readier and feeling stuck and doomed. (A few days ago, I resumed plodding through Jorge Luis Borges's "Labyrinths," and "The Immortal," "The Theologians," and "The House of Asterion" felt both disturbing and familiar.)

I probably just need to get out more.

I went to Intramuros on Saturday afternoon (Chinese class, which went surprisingly well, was in the morning). It was Cris's idea, to give his visiting sociologist friend Ken a different look at Manila via a Celdran tour, and I'd never been on a Celdran tour myself. I enjoyed the afternoon out, and I think I have a better appreciation for Manila. But I also felt a little sadness over the lack of similar experiences for Mindanao (frankly, the history of Gensan in particular sounds as ridiculous and watered-down as the American Thanksgiving origin story).

Then, I had to work on Sunday. Sunday afternoon, I went with the guys to the airport to see Ken off, and then Cris and I hung out. I told him what was on my mind, and he gave me some advice — "dapat lagi kang may ibang palaman" — which I guess is best summarized, "expect the worst, but hope for the best."

Making friends with Ken, a Canadian-born Vietnamese guy with Chinese parents, recalled to me a conversation I'd had with Cris much, much earlier, maybe sometime late last year. Cris asked me what the anti-Kat would be like, and I shrugged and said, "I don't know, probably someone super kikay." I actually thought about it some more later, and I decided that there is no anti-Kat; there's only the Kat that would have existed if something, sometime back down the line, had been different — if I'd made a different choice or if different choices had been made for me. It's more difficult to imagine a completely polar opposite Kat than it is to think of the Kat who:

- never moved to the US
- never came back from the US
- went through with the move to Thailand
- made different friends in the US
- made different friends in the PH
- took gymnastics
- didn't stop piano lessons
- wasn't on the spelling team
- stayed on the track team
- cared more about conventional femininity
- prioritized science and math
- was more obnoxious
- didn't laugh when F (not his real initial) told me he liked me
- didn't go home when R (still not his real initial) asked me to stay
- accepted X's (you get the point) invitation to the prom
- didn't dismiss W, and later, G
- took the PHSA exam instead of attending graduation day
- went to UP instead of Ateneo
- went to Silliman instead of Ateneo
- considered foreign schools more seriously
- made different friends in college
- stayed in So. Cot. after college
- didn't live in Merville after graduation
- didn't move out of Merville later
- didn't work for CCF
- didn't resign from CCF
- didn't ask questions about my religion
- didn't go to that Heights reunion in Megamall
- didn't start going to Cris's game nights
- didn't get a job at BusinessWorld
- didn't move to Cubao
- didn't get to take that trip to Singapore

... and so on.

Some of the things on this list are actual regrets, while some just come from a vague, "I wonder if...." Most of them sharpen the picture of who I'd be or what I'd do whatever the branch. Negative experiences stand out specially — I think I'd still have had those kinds of relationships, and I think they still would have ended. I think I'd still make those kinds of friends, and I think we'd still have drifted apart.

It's difficult to imagine positive experiences that may have come about, because they seem more like daydreams than likely results, and because, based on actual experience, I never expect the good things. In the last five years or so, I never expected the good things that have happened to me. Maybe that makes me more of a pessimist than I think, but it somehow also gives me more hope for the future. Just because I don't see good things coming doesn't mean that they won't come at all.

Damn it. I think I've written that before.

Letter No. 2

Call them signs, an emerging theme, God talking, or coincidence. Within a week of my birthday, life was showing/telling me, I'm bad at being with other people; better to get better at connecting while I'm still young.

I don't know if this is normal, but I have problems with episodic memory. This was embarrassingly clear to me when my high school barkada was complete for the first time in months, maybe years, for just one night last weekend. And I could not detail an anecdote from our shared adolescence to save my life.

"I remember when there was a luau. They let us decorate. And Kat pushed Lei into the pool."

Really? I found myself thinking. Then, Oh, yeah. But, I couldn't remember any of the details, just the dim fact that I had indeed pushed Lei into the pool.

The remorse, on the other hand, was pretty fresh; how bad I felt immediately after I'd picked on my water-hating friend, that I can definitely remember.

There are other memories of memories I don't recall. Once, when I was in high school, my senior homeroom teacher told me that she remembered when I was 10 or 11 and threw a tantrum over a lower-than-expected science grade. I kicked like a little kid, she said. I have no memory of this at all and refused to believe it had happened, though I did have a reputation for tantrums back then.

More recently, my lola recalled how my lolo spent his last Christmas in the hospital, and I was horrified that I could not remember this, either. I was there that Christmas, but I don't remember the hospital at all.

I thank whatever seized me at nine years old to start keeping diaries, and I go cold at the thought that I was thinking of shredding them earlier this year. The first thing I'm going to do when I go home is dig them up and take them back with me.

What's wrong with me? I'd like to know. Cris marvels at my ability to learn songs in a snap, but I'd much rather be able to remember scenes from my own life, shared with my nearest and dearest, no less.

Now that I look back and try to pull out specific memories, I'm frustrated to see how wrapped up inside myself I've been. I can remember how I felt and the thoughts I liked to think, fancying myself special. But specific events I do remember can be separated into two main categories: the times I was by myself and felt mostly awesome, and the times I was with other people and felt different shades of bad. A third category, happy memories with other people, is pitifully sparse in comparison.

It's not to say that nobody cared about me; I think it's that I haven't cared much for other people. My memories feature mostly me because I focused on mostly me. I chose friends, crushes, and people to date for mostly selfish reasons: they made me feel good about myself. I probably felt horrible around other people because I was always wishing they'd treat me the way I wanted, instead of simply enjoying their company, much less making them feel special also.

How cold I must have been.

Somehow, I have friends like my friends and family members who are still interested in spending time with me. I would have ditched someone like me a long time ago — and I don't blame the old friends who did. Realizing just how wonderful some people can be is why, in the middle of the sensory overload that was Cafe Juanita on my birthday, I felt so unworthy I wanted to cry.

There's something else that makes me panicky about my lack of connection. Between my mom in physical therapy for some mysterious back pain and my grama recently admitted for appendicitis, plus how bird-like my lola feels whenever I get to hug her and how more defined my dad's face is every time I see him, I can't help seeing how old my family is getting. Dad has more hobbies now. It's my turn now, to — what?

Grama was admitted Monday. I visited her Tuesday, and she told me that it was the first time she'd been hospitalized for anything other than the births of her children. She also told me that with her children grown and scattered, she was thankful for her friends. It wasn't a slight against my dad, my aunt, and my uncles; I think she was just stating a fact. Her friends constantly checked on her. One of them spent the first night with her there in that little ward, before the surgery.

I immediately thought of my own friends, the girls I'd had a slumber party with the weekend before, as well as the few friends I've [barely] kept in touch with since college. Perhaps selfishly, I wondered if, with all of them scattered as well, I'd have anyone like them the way Grama had her friends that Monday night. Again, I cringed at how bad I've been at keeping friends.

And of course, it wasn't until later that I thought about being there for them myself.

I guess the saving grace is that I'm still young, and it can't be too late to be better.

As for my terrible memory for good things, I'll have to be more conscious of the present and my present company. Remember this good thing happening to you and these good people you get to share it with, Kat. Then maybe, when they ask you about something great you did together, you have something real to say.

--
This letter features a soundtrack: two songs that came to mind while I was writing, and one that followed after I fed the first two songs into Grooveshark. Call it a sign, God talking, or coincidence.

1. Only if for a Night, by Florence + the Machine
The grass was so green against my new clothes / And I did cartwheels in your honor / Dancing on tiptoes, my own secret ceremonials / Before the service began / In the graveyard / Doing handstands // And I heard your voice / As clear as day / And you told me I / Should concentrate / It was all so strange / And so surreal / That a ghost should be / So practical / Only if for a night // And the only solution was the stand and fight / And my body was bruised, and I was set alight / But you came over me like some holy rite / And although I was burning, you're the only light / Only if for a night

2. A Better Son/Daughter, by Rilo Kiley
Then you hang up the phone and feel badly for upsetting things / And crawl back into bed to dream of a time / When your heart was open wide and you loved things just because
...
And you'll be better, and you'll be smarter / And more grown-up and a better daughter / Or son and a real good friend / You'll be awake, and you'll be alert / You'll be positive though it hurts / And you'll laugh and embrace all your friends / You'll be a real good listener / You'll be honest; you'll be brave

3. It's Cool to Love Your Family, by Feist
And someone loved them once / And someone loves them still / And someone misses them / And someone always will // It's cool, it's cool to love your family

Letter No. 1

On her 88th birthday, a few weeks ago, my lola told me, "Being old is fun."

I think I knew this from watching her eat ice cream at a recent family dinner. I could hear it in her voice, too, as she shared her travel plans for that week over the phone. But, actually hearing her say those words was an affirmation — you can live so much and so long and (still) be happy.

Tomorrow morning, I will have completed another trip around the sun. I won't be as old as my lola just yet, but I look forward to this new year as much as I look forward to my 88th. This feels like a kickoff to top off all the kickoffs I've made in the past year:

- got over a grown-up breakup
- biked around Metro Manila and didn't die
- learned Mandarin
- saw my kirigami featured in a magazine
- made new friends
- opened my heart again, with the help of someone wonderful
- made peace with the city
- realized how much I (still) love and miss my family
- moved to an apartment
- gained weight
- survived my first year as supplements editor
- saw my own faith staring me in the face

With blogging and other fun online things recently re-banned at work, the days leading up to my birthday have been as good a time as ever to be more thoughtful about a lot of stuff: what I post here, how I think, how I relate to other people, and what I want to do next.

- finally go to Beijing
- go home for Christmas
- make and write more things for myself, and make them well
- stop worrying about the future
- invest in the stock market
- read more books
- buy that box of plain Lego bricks
- turn the added weight into abs
- be less disconnected
- be less afraid
- be grateful
- get old
- have fun

Here we go.

Mid-Year Check

Four days into 2012, I wrote this to-do list for the year. We're at the halfway point now, so I think it's time for a self-check.

1. Sign up for the next cycle of Mandarin classes.
I'm actually in my third cycle for the year and pretty happy with how I'm doing. :)

2. Re-read the Bible two or three times.
Ha. Yeah, this isn't happening.

By three times, I meant once each in three different languages: Tagalog, Cebuano, and English. Things were going well until I hit a speed bump at Genesis 5. Yes, yes, call me lazy.

In the end, I decided that with all the things I wanted to do — apart from all the things I had (have) to take care of every day — I had to accept that I didn't have the time and commitment that such an ambitious project deserved.

I did, however, learn some interesting things about myself and language. Though I never spoke Cebuano/Bisaya growing up and mostly use Taglish in everyday conversation, I found the Cebuano Bible much easier for me to grasp than the Tagalog. Osmosis, I guess; the sounds of Cebuano in my head were just warmer and more familiar.

I guess that's how I came to the only conclusion I got out of this interrupted project: If I ever study a Filipino language seriously (again), it should be Cebuano/Bisaya. While Tagalog seems more practical considering that I live in a Tagalog region, I can't help thinking of this quote I first posted after I finished Basic Chinese 1:

"Learning a language, even a natural language, is more of an emotional decision than a practical one. It’s about belonging to a group."
— Arika Okrent, author of “In the Land of Invented Languages” (source)

There's something special in the conscious choice of a language to study. I didn't choose for English to be my first language, nor did I want to study Tagalog Filipino* all those years in school. Chinese is only the second language I chose to learn because it felt important; Bisaya, now that I think about it, now that I remember how alien I felt coming home from the States, was the first.

*I'm using "Tagalog Filipino" here the same way people use "Mandarin Chinese."

3. Move out of Cubao within the next six months.
It took five months, but it finally, finally happened. :)

4. Finish at least two economics reference books.
Hay, another reading project abandoned, for now.

I am, however, reading more business and economics news these days, and when I remember, I put in a half hour or so at Khan Academy.

5. Use my induction cooker.
Cris gifted me with a proper saucepan, and since then, I've used the stove to boil pasta, fry an egg, and watch Cris make noodle soup, hahaha. Baby steps. Half point?

6. Travel out of the country at least once.
Not yet, but soon, soon. I have a ticket to Beijing in October. :) If stuff goes really sour with China before then, I'd like to rebook for Malaysia or Singapore.

7. Email my parents more often.
I have upped my emails in the past six months, but they're still not as frequent as I'd like. Half point.

8. Get rid of old/unneeded belongings.
I did a lot of throwing away during the last stages of the move. I still have a big bag of clothes and bags to donate, but they can wait under my bed till the next charity thing at Mikko's church.

9. Get my college stuff out of storage and sort that, too.
Hmm, I forgot all about this. :|

10. Invest.
I've actually lost a lot of money recently, if we're talking about the amount in my savings account. But, I suppose new things for the apartment and the massive deposit are a different kind of investment.

Still hoping to get my balance up to a certain amount and then plunge into a financial instrument, though.

11. Read at least 50 books.
So far, I've read 13 new ones this year and am in the middle of a 14th. That's less than I'd like to have read by now, but at least I'm reading.

12. Make more complicated popup buildings.
Only three so far: The Great Wall (1, 2), a kind of landscape of Santorini (1, 2), and an imaginary Aztec temple that I decided wasn't worth photographing.

I hope to have more time for buildings once I've finished settling into the new apartment. I also have to buy a table for working and eating on. :/ Half point for the six-month mark, then.

13. Visit Luneta on a Sunday morning
I've actually been to Luneta twice in the past six months, though both times on Saturday afternoons. It was still nice, though.

15. Use my Ayala Museum membership at least once a month.
Hey, looks like I skipped 14.

This makes me feel so bad, but I haven't been to the museum once since the year began. I wanted the membership for what I'd imagined would be a year of being single and bored.

16. See Picasso's "Suite Vollard."
Yup.

17. Visit Manila Ocean Park.
I'm thinking of striking this from my list. Friends have told me it isn't worth it. :/

18. See my childhood friends more often.
I've seen them only a couple of times, so I'm not removing this item. Maybe just a half point for this one.

19. Hang out with Internet friends IRL sometime.
I ran into Lance (@bottledbrain) at the museum on the last day to see "Suite Vollard," but I was about to leave already. :s

This kind of thing takes planning and courage — and more planning than courage. I can't even see offline friends without planning a month or so in advance, and something usually happens to cancel the plan. My offline friends are increasingly online friends, too. :|

20. Spend a weekend in Baguio.
Not yet.

21. Spend a weekend in Corregidor.
Not yet.

22. Find out if that thing they keep saying about my great-grandfather is true.
*sigh* Not yet.

23. Be a better editor.
Hmm. I'd rather not go into details, but suffice it to say that I can still do better. Half point?

24. Redesign certain company websites for fun with MAMP and a local Wordpress installation.
I actually did this and then showed the results to someone at the company who had a little more power to suggest Wordpress. But, the group handling the site in question decided they'd rather keep the current CMS. Oh, well.

25. Watch at least two Filipino plays.
Forgot about this one, too.

26. Finish at least one abandoned story/essay and submit it somewhere.
My interest in creative writing beyond this blog seems to fade more every year. There are just so many other things I want to do also.

27. Get a pet.
I'm definitely looking forward to this, but this might have to wait a while. I've got a lot of big expenses coming up in the next six months (a table, a bedroll, people's birthdays, my birthday, Beijing, Christmas, maybe one more cycle of Mandarin), so I don't know if I'll be to squeeze a pet in until next year.

28. Be open to whatever's around the corner.
I definitely think I deserve a full point for this, but I'm not taking it off the list. :)

That makes 10 points, if I've counted right. I guess it's not bad.

Would it be cheating if I made a new list of priorities and things to do for the rest of 2012?

Monday Already? + Bike Notes 8

My weekends have become increasingly interesting since late last year, and the last weekend in particular should go down in my personal history as one of the best ever.

Nothing too spectacular happened, but I had a lot of fun. More importantly, though, I had this overall feeling of satisfaction—this is what I always thought life in my 20s would feel like. It's simple yet fantastic. I can't help but feel grateful for all the good that's come so far.

Mostly, I'm writing about the last weekend, boring as it will sound later to some of you, because I kind of can't believe it happened. The colorful weekends of vivacious 20-somethings are the stuff of music videos and Zooey Deschanel starrers*. A musical number with animated birds, plus a girl wearing a vintage dress and playing the guitar, would have been the cliche cherry on top of this past weekend.

I guess that's what comes of having all your ideas of young adult life colored by whatever pop culture gets through the filter of not growing up in a major city.

Here's where the entry gets boring (look, a lampshade!).

To-Do in 2012

This is an expanded version of the list I made last month. I thought I'd have just 12 or 13 items on my list, but I kept thinking of things to do as I went along.

I'm looking forward to striking at least half of these by next December.

1. Sign up for the next cycle of Mandarin classes.
I still don't know what I'm going to use this for, but something tells me I should keep going.

2. Re-read the Bible two or three times.
I used a New International Version the first time I read the whole Bible. This year, I'm going with the King James Version.

I think it's time I reexamined some of the things I decided to stop believing, and who knows? Maybe the text that inspired authors and religious scholars for centuries might show me what's really missing in my own faith.

How am I going to read the whole book two or three times in just one year? I'm going to read the Tagalog and, if I can find it, Cebuano translations and read them at the same time, like in "The Other Side of Heaven." It sounds like an ambitious if not really ridiculous project, but it should still be interesting.

3. Move out of Cubao within the next six months.
I'm currently eyeing the Kamuning-Tomas-Morato-Timog-Scouts area because they're within biking distance of my office, and I really want to use my bike more.

But, I'm also considering Makati; I'm already there every weekend, and it would be nice to bike to all my now-usual stops (church, restaurants, grocery, etc.) there. There's also the chance my brother might change his mind and decide to move out of our grandmother's house, and anywhere other than Makati would be too inconvenient for him.

It will be a challenge to find an affordable studio in both these areas, though; they're kind of expensive.

4. Finish at least two economics reference books.
That includes the book I bought last year but never finished. It's at the office now, making me feel guilty whenever I open my desk drawer.

The second book would probably be a standard college textbook; maybe my brother Mikko can lend me something.

5. Use my induction cooker.
I won one at the company raffle last month, and I haven't been able to use it because the communal kitchen doesn't have any electrical outlets. :| It's just one more reason to get a new place, really.

6. Travel out of the country at least once.
Mikko and his girlfriend Camille are going to Bangkok this summer, and my pushing-90 grandmother wants to fly somewhere, too, so I'll probably get this done before my next birthday.

If not, I think I can plan going to Hong Kong or Singapore by myself.

7. Email my parents more often.
I used to do this once or twice a week. Now it's only when I remember, every couple of months. :s

8. Get rid of old/unneeded belongings.
Anyone know what to do with handbags that aren't in great condition, but still seem too useable to throw away?

Also, why do people keep giving me bags?

9. Get my college stuff out of storage and sort that, too.

10. Invest.
I have some money in a mutual fund; I think I might give my bank's asset management thingy a try. Savings take forever to grow, and I'm thinking of getting a computer to play games with. :p

11. Read at least 50 books.
This includes the Bible(s) and the economics books but also:

• "Arkitekturang Filipino"
• "Almanac for Manilenos," if I can find it
• the eight books I got for Christmas
• that one book I got for my birthday

—just to start with.

12. Make more complicated popup buildings.

13. Visit Luneta on a Sunday morning
—and maybe do Intramuros at night.

15. Use my Ayala Museum membership at least once a month.
Thanks, Mikko.

16. See Picasso's "Suite Vollard."
The last day is this Saturday already. I have to get a move on.

17. Visit Manila Ocean Park.

18. See my childhood friends more often.
The ones who're here in Manila, anyway.

19. Hang out with Internet friends IRL sometime.
The list currently includes @dearpilar, @pitradactyl, @presidents, @bottledbrain, my own cousin manangdidang, and—who knows given #6?—@zoelionesque.

(Guys, you're welcome to join me for any of the items on this list.)

20. Spend a weekend in Baguio.

21. Spend a weekend in Corregidor.

22. Find out if that thing they keep saying about my great-grandfather is true.
My great-grandfather Crispin Nones was something of a self-made Da Vinci; he didn't get any higher education, but he was a class A mechanic, tailor, wood-carver, artist, and metal-worker. My grandmother claims he was the man who made the giant eagle on the Blue Eagle Gym. My dad asked me to verify this when I was an incoming Ateneo freshman, but nearly eight years later, I've yet to come close.

23. Be a better editor.

24. Redesign certain company websites for fun with MAMP and a local Wordpress installation.
I say "for fun" because even if I do show anyone these designs, it's unlikely they'll bite. :s Anyway, I miss web work and could use the practice as well as something to do on slow days at the office.

25. Watch at least two Filipino plays.

26. Finish at least one abandoned story/essay and submit it somewhere.

27. Get a pet.
I already know what to name any future turtles or hedgehogs.

28. Be open to whatever's around the corner.
I thought about making this item the cheesier, "Fall in love [again]," but who can really say who or what is coming? So instead, I'm only promising to to jump when it's time to jump, grin and bear the crap, and just be happy as much as possible.

Here's to a great 2012 for everyone. Thanks for reading. :)

....

Whenever I came home and found that home had stayed the same no matter how I'd changed, I felt reassured. This Christmas, it's home that's changed, and it feels like for good.

The other day, I had just an hour to spend with some of my oldest friends. My family had to go to church in a bit, Kim and Kriselle would be leaving for Davao again the next day, and I wasn't sure if I'd see Mariel again in Kalsangi after Christmas (I'm flying back to Manila tomorrow).

Of the four of us, only Mariel has lived in Kalsangi longer than my family. In January, she and her family will be moving away.

This vacation has literally been a nostalgia trip. While going around the neighborhood, I haven't been able to stop thinking, "So-and-so used to live there. I used to climb that rock. I used to go inside that shop and look at the bracelets. My friends and I once called that cluster of trees Narnia. I used to go to that pond and catch those tiny frogs."

I wish there was more time.

In our family, Christmas has rarely been just for us. My mom is so involved in the community that she's buying, baking, cooking, wrapping, and delivering presents till well past Christmas day. It's a lot for one person to do alone, which is why the rest of us get roped into helping her. I guess it's selfish of me to wish that just one Christmas Eve, she could have nothing to do, but I wish it all the same.

Then I remember that I live in Manila; if I didn't, she'd have an extra pair of hands leading up to the holidays, and maybe by Christmas, she'd be chilling on the couch and listening to her favorite CDs, instead of begging my brother to get away from the computer and deliver this tin of fruit cocktail cake to the Parcons.

Things have settled down now, so I think it's safe to "plan" today on doing nothing but letting my memory catch up and settle itself also. I just wish there was more time.

Do What Pray Tell

A well-meaning friend suggested that, now that I'm single again, I should spend more time with God and ask myself if I was going to be with him in heaven after I died.

The thing is, she and I have different ideas of God. I don't think she'd really dig mine, much less how I spend time with who I believe is God. There's also no paper trail--no Bible study group signup forms, no outreach ministry membership brochures--to prove to her that I spend any time with God at all.

Ever since I left my church job, talking about God to the people--especially the professing Christian people--who have known me since childhood runs the risk of opening a can of worms that never seems safe to open. So, all I could do was sidestep my friend's suggestion and address some of the other points she'd raised during our conversation about whether I'm ready to date anyone.

I do wish, though, that there was someone I could talk to about my faith. The next-closest person to me who has any clue about its state is my younger brother, but out of pride, I avoid talking to him about it. I say next-closest, because Martin knew a little more than my brother does, but his viewpoint is Catholic, so he didn't quite get everything.

I once dropped in on a Filipino Freethinkers meeting and would have liked to talk to the Episcopalian guy, but I don't feel like going back.

I guess I would just like to talk to someone who understands Protestant, particularly evangelical church culture, is familiar with evangelical teachings, would listen to what I had to say, wouldn't judge me, and would maybe even walk away without worrying unnecessarily over the fate of my immortal soul. Basically, I would like to talk to someone who would listen, not preach or fret, and just leave me in the hands of whatever God they believed in, just as I place myself in the hands of mine.

Preferably not someone I work with, because just knowing they follow me on Twitter makes things soooo awkward already.

Is it too early for New Year's resolutions? I'm looking forward to the new year. These are more plans than resolutions:

1. Reread the Bible, this time a KJV.
2. Continue studying Mandarin.
3. Bike more.
4. Move out of Cubao.
5. Keep a planner.
6. Make more complicated popup buildings.
7. Invest some more.
8. Study more economics.
9. Get a pet. If where I live doesn't allow pets, get a small pet that doesn't make noise. A turtle, maybe.
10. Be happy.

And as for whether I'm ready to date anyone, I don't think I want to just yet. So far, no one who's expressed interest has really grabbed my attention, either. I guess we'll see how the new year goes.

The Save Point

Many video games have what's called a save point. It can be an object, like a hoop to jump through or a glowing star or crystal to touch; a place, like the plaza of each village you visit or a sparkly bit of grass along your way; or even a person, like a healer, guide, or good fairy waiting at just the right point in the game.

Whatever form the save point takes, it's a typically a point where you save not only your progress but also your character's current state. If it's the last save point before the next big battle, it's a good place to assess your character's skills and equipment and prepare as best you can for what's coming next. And if your character is injured or killed, you simply reload the game at the save point to try again.

So it wasn't such a stretch for a high school crush to once write that life has its save points also. For him, the save points were moments when life was good, he was in a good mental and physical state, he was aware of these things, and he felt ready for anything. If he went through trouble in the future, he had only to recall his last save point to remind himself that things were once better and could be again.

I've never called it a save point, but that's what my childhood home has always been for me. Because it's a place, though, my save point is a little less like my schoolmate's and a little more like a video game's. I go home, see how my family has grown older while my bedroom still looks like a 15-year-old's, see how some trees have been chopped down while others have grown taller, think of what I've left in Manila and what I'll return to, ask myself how I plan to handle it, and steel myself accordingly.

This time, though, I realized that my capacity for acceptance had increased before I'd even arrived. While I was eager to be home again, I knew in the back of my mind that it would only be for a short time and that because my family was older—my parents' and lola's age showing more than ever, my youngest brother a high schooler in a big man's body—things would not be as I remembered. I just had to be glad for the time I did have and go with the flow.

So, I spent my first day shopping with my mom, partly to wait for my dad's flight to come in after mine and partly to reacquaint myself with the idea that getting new clothes isn't always a waste of money.

On the second day, we went to church, then to sing hymns by my lolo's grave, then to our favorite roadside grilled chicken place, then home for an afternoon indoors because of the rain.

On Monday, we went to a secret beach—no fences, no signs; you just drive right off the road and pay some lady P10 per head—to snorkel against the current over a patch reef.

On Tuesday, I finally got to take a walk. I took Buster, because he'd been cooped up recovering from a sprain, and my brother Mon, to hold Buster's leash. When it started to rain, though, they both went home (but not before I had to chase the dog chasing the neighbor's pet rabbit—fun for both me and the dog, though his limp returned afterward). I stayed outside, took a dizzying turn on the tire swing, then walked.

This was the walk I knew I had to take before I left again. I went down my street, up the main street, across the back grass to the quadrangle of my school, down to the pavilion and then back up to the high school, then down again the back way, on the route I'd take with my friends in our uniforms. And while I walked, all the sights I knew, every house and tree and shrub I'd passed hundreds of times on hundreds of walks, runs, and rides seemed to wink and wave at me. My homecoming was complete, even as I was to leave the next day.

I felt happy. I think I was happy that though my life, short as it's been, was behind me, I had lived it. I looked forward to getting as old as my lola, and not all my memories were nor had to be sad. My home and my family would always be there, even after my parents retired and moved away.

And near the end of my walk, under a tree between the houses of my oldest friends, I found blooming some yellow wood flowers I thought had died out, and their seed blossoms littered the ground.

--

When I got on the plane again the next day, I cried a little, not for the home I was leaving behind—I wasn't leaving it behind—but for a person I'd left before leaving Manila. I hadn't thought about Martin much over the weekend, except to note that he wouldn't have been able to enjoy something my family and I were doing at that moment, but he came to mind then as the crew readied for takeoff.

I cried because I was witnessing the dying gasp of what we were together, because I knew in that moment that I didn't want him back at all, not if it meant more of the hurt and more of the past. A lot would have to change first.

Time now for the present and the future, for takeoff and flight.

Time for Time

I'm flying home this Saturday to spend the long weekend somewhere quiet, green, and familiar.

Maybe it's just my brain flipping out over the clean oxygen, but something magical always happens to me whenever I go home after a long time away. I'm definitely looking forward to seeing my family, my oldest friends, my favorite neighborhood haunts, and the dog. But I'm also looking forward to taking a long walk alone around the place, just to reacquaint myself with myself.

This is usually done by any combination of the following: looking for the kinds of leaves and seeds and rocks I played with as a kid, crossing the gully bridge to the high school campus, visiting the abandoned pond behind the Grade Two classrooms, standing under any tree in the ballpark, taking the pine-needle-covered path to the Clubhouse, and/or sitting on a half-buried boulder in the backyard of an empty house, just on the edge of the eight fairway.

At some point in the middle of all this, I can expect to be blindsided (every time) by the general feeling that all is well, my life has a purpose, and even if it doesn't, all shall still be well. If I'm feeling particularly low at that moment, some crying may be involved. If I'm especially lucky, it happens at that odd hour in late-mid-afternoon when the sun hangs an golden veil over everything, and walking feels like a swimmy dream, or a Florence + the Machine song.

Possibly this one (thanks for the share, Meg).

It's like Adam Young having one last perfect summer day in Lower Tadfield, or perhaps Ruth Belville going to Greenwich just to set her watch.

I can already feel it in my ribcage; this is going to be the best time.

30 Days of Books: Day 23 - Why Bookstores Hurt

The entry for Day 23 got so long that I decided it should get this post all to itself.

Earlier posts in this meme: Days 1-7, Days 8-14, and Days 15-21. See you tomorrow.

--

Day 23 – A book you wanted to read for a long time but still haven’t

(28 July 2011) I'm between yearnings at the moment. I've either read or lost interest in unread books that interested me, and I haven't been interested in anything else lately.

I think I'm going through what Martin calls book fatigue, though my definition is probably different. I hear about something interesting--a series, comics, "serious" "literature," "fluff," science nonfiction--maybe see it on a bookstore shelf, read the blurb, think of the books that are like it, think of the books I already have, think of the books people will probably write in a similar vein, and then ask myself, "Well, what's the point of getting this one, then?"

I'm a bit worn down, too, by the feeling that I have to catch up with what everyone else is reading--ridiculous and bad for the self-esteem, but there it is--especially when film adaptations are forthcoming. It's similar to the feeling that I'm missing out by not having read all the "important" books that my language teachers' language teachers insisted one had to read to be considered cultured.

It's wonderful having access to all Manila's well-stocked bookstores today, and it's nice having a salary that would afford me several new books a month if I wanted. That's the thing, though; I don't want any, and that makes me sad. It's been about a year, I think, since I simply wandered into a bookstore, saw something interesting, and knew I just had to have it--that book was "The Arrival," by Shaun Tan--and I really miss that kind of obsession.

Part of me wants to go back to that point in my life when there were no decent stores for miles around. I would save my allowance for the occasional trip to Davao, where we would go into the only National Bookstore outlet in three or five surrounding provinces--how tiny that place looks now--and I would squat in front of the YA shelf for hours, agonizing over which would be the one book I'd get to take home. It often happened that I hadn't saved enough, so I'd have to wait until the next trip to Davao, during which I'd be hoping against hope that no one else had wanted that book while I was away.

If I couldn't buy books, I depended on rereading what I already had; on the school library, which was really good for a place so isolated; on friends like Mariel, who somehow always managed (and still does) to get her hands on good stuff--it was thanks to her that I read about Claidi and Harry Potter; and on birthday and Christmas gifts from people who knew how much I loved to read. I don't think my parents or grandparents know how much their gifts meant to me; I don't think I really did, either, until I was older.

Having grown up that way, that hungry, I felt a great rage, like a terrible injustice had been done to me as a child, when I walked into the new Fully Booked in my birthplace last year.

And knowing that I was once so starved for good things to read makes my current aversion to acquiring new books even more disturbing. Maybe I can make the highly dubious claim that today's books aren't as great. Maybe I've been letting others' literary chatter get to me, and I can no longer pick something without wondering whether people are talking about it on Twitter. Maybe I just got so stingy growing up that having thousands more choices today makes buying a new book even more difficult.

Yeah, I bet that's it. Books have entailed such huge personal (and not entirely financial) investment for so long that I'm afraid of making the wrong choice out of all possible choices--that's why the giant Fully Booked in Fort Bonifacio terrifies me. Even if my wallet can now afford it, my twelve-year-old heart still can't.

I guess until I get over that, I'll wait for something to seize me the way "The Arrival" did, piercing through all those layers of fear and getting to the little twerp who read because reading itself was awesome, and stories were just plain good.

--

All that said, I recently started reading George R. R. Martin's "A Game of Thrones," and I like it so far. That counts as something interesting I haven't read yet, right?

Photo post: Punta Fuego

We went on the company outing last weekend to Club Punta Fuego in Nasugbu, Batangas.

I wish we could say that the whole time, we looked like this:

L-R: our editor Ikka, me, Vikki, and Pat.

(Photo from Vikki's Facebook album. Anything else I copied and then quick-edited in picnik are marked with ^v^.)

But most of the time, we were like this:

¡¡16 pages to fill by Tuesday!! 

(Elias, the Highlife creative director, is not shouting at us. I'm actually not sure what he's doing/saying in this shot. ^v^)

There were some fun moments, though. Vikki and I went swimming for maybe an hour and a half in this pool (click to enlarge), before retreating to our laptops again.

Then, after dinner, we brought our laptops to the Highlife staff's room to "relax" while doing more research. That's when the nighttime photo above was taken. For the record, none of us who had to work got drunk.

And in the morning, we got to walk around on the beach for a bit, before dragging ourselves back to our room to bang out some more werk.

More photos after the jump.

Here's my wish list, Travie.

Someone finally claimed the P741 million lottery prize (about $17 million at today's exchange rate) the other day, but that hasn't stopped me from fantasizing about what I'd do with the money.

1. Hire a financial adviser. You don't stay at this job a year and learn nothing, and while I still have a lot to learn about investing, if I had the money now, I'd go first to someone who knew how to grow it. I'd ask for short-term investments to give me some kind of regular income and long-term stuff for security. If they do their job right, I should be able to afford everything else on this list in time.

2. Anonymously pay off the debts of people I care about. In my fantasy, it plays out like this: they're at their house or place of work when someone from the investment bank shows up to have a talk with them. The rep explains that someone knows how much trouble they're going through and would like to offer them a fresh start. The moment they say yes, they will be debt-free. They will also be given a choice between among a business franchise to keep them financially independent, a retirement fund to which they can look forward, or a lump sum with which they can do anything they want. From then on, of course, they're on their own.

3. Fulfill a few wishes for my immediate family. You know, things like pay for my brother's wedding, take my grandmother on a trip around the world while she's still young, and buy my dad his Pinzgauer.

4. A scholarship foundation for deserving kids from my home region.

5. Funding for marine science schools and research bases.

6. Investments in eco-tourism programs for my home region.

7. Investments in Metro Manila's public trains and a real bus rapid transit system.

8. A foundation for indigent families in need of healthcare.

9. Martin's master's degree.

10. A nice house and a new computer.

That's all--for now.

Why Myself

Sometime in high school, one of my teachers asked me outright, "Katrina, why don't you have any friends?"

At the time, my diary entries often featured this mopey, pathetic scene: me, sitting or lying in my dark bedroom and listening to the laughter of my classmates, hanging out at someone's house just down the road. If I was sitting, I could actually see the house and maybe guess whose shadow was breaking the light that came through the bushes and the windows. I'd be wishing I was there and knowing I wouldn't have any fun if I was.

I couldn't help rehashing my bitter memories of high school after seeing two movies about unpopular people last week, "You Again" and "The Social Network." The comedy had nerdy Marni, who still held resentment for her old tormentor nearly ten years on. The drama had self-absorbed Zuckerberg, whose cockiness barely masked his insecurity. Somehow, I could relate to both these characters. Afterward, it was as though I was back in DPS, cross-legged in my checkered uniform, spacing out on a concrete bench, and getting interrupted by Mr. P.

How would I answer that question today?

A. "When I was ten years old and a new kid, I was either picked on or excluded or both. The people who did this were, unfortunately, the same people I would see nearly every day for the next six or seven years, all the way to our high school graduation. While they may have forgotten along the way, I never did. I didn't want to have anything to do with them, which meant staying away from pretty much all social stuff."

B. "English was my first language. Sure, I went to school with these kids for a while, but then my family went to the States. When we came back, I was picked on for my accent and my cluelessness, so I holed up in the library. That place was filled with great books, but these were mostly American, so I'd say that my comforts only helped to further distance me from my classmates. The things I liked, the way I thought--no one else seemed interested."

C. "People did ask me to come to parties. But whenever I went, I usually ended up sitting to one side and watching everyone have a conversation I couldn't understand, not for lack of language but for lack of relatability. Sure, I wanted to be at these parties. I wanted to have a good time with people my age. But I couldn't find any talking points, so I figured, why bother?"

D. "I was often told--once by one of my actual bullies--'They pick on you because they're jealous; you're so smart.' I think I latched on to that. Somewhere along the way, I must have decided that as long as I proved myself better than my peers, I could reassure myself that their friendship and their interests just weren't worth my time.* Naturally, this made me kind of a snob. I didn't like popular things or the popular people. By way of association--it was a really small school, okay?--even the perfectly decent, average and likeable people got my indifference."

E. "I didn't know how to be friendly. Being an outsider--more often voluntarily, as the years passed--showed me how superficial some friendships could be. On some level, I came to equate friendliness with superficiality. I didn't want to be friendly if it meant being fake."

Unfortunately, I didn't think of any of those answers until now, so all I did that afternoon was shrug, go home, write some more in my diary, and cry.

I don't know whether I've just explained or merely excused my dismal high school years, my thick introversion, and my lack of social skills today. Ever since I was ten, I've wanted to know why myself. Why are you like this, Kat? Why don't you have many friends? Why do you turn cold to the few you have?

Today, I'll say that it comes down to wanting to be liked, wanting to be liked by the right people, and not knowing who or where the right people are. Could they have been right in front of me back then? Maybe. Is there no such thing as the right people, just people? Probably. Was there something I could have done better? Why bother asking? Does all this mean I can't get over high school? Who knows?

(Who knows is probably the right person for me to be friends with.)

--
*I did have one close friend in my class, someone whom I still respect and admire, initially because she was nice to me, smart, and read thicker books than I; now just because she is a good person. Somehow she managed to excel in school without alienating people, and to this day my batch often looks to her to help plan get-togethers and stuff like that. I wish it had occured to me to maybe try and follow her example. Oh, well.

"Keep your head and drop the gun."

I wasn't going to let the week of my birthday pass without updating, but three full work days after the fact seems to have dissipated the high a bit. No worries; it'll probably return later, when I meet Martin, my mom, my brother Mikko, and his girlfriend Camille for dinner.

To use a cliche, I feel I'm at the eye of a storm. So many things around me have been thrown out of whack--relatives on rough seas, friends with sick siblings, country investigating two bloody incidents at once--and yet somehow, I feel that this has been the best birthday I've had in years.

The only explanation I can offer is that about three days prior, I had lost all sight of the meaning of my life. It's not very hard to do that, living mostly alone in a city like this; wondering what makes you any different from the million other people who take the same jeep, train, or bus every day; knowing that no one will remember your work three days from now; and feeling dehumanized by the almighty quest to kiss Slatekin* ass.

Why do I bother? Why am I even here? That kind of thing.

And then, I don't know. I don't know what happened, what switch got flipped, but the next day, all I could think about was how happy I'd be, spending most of the weekend with Martin. And though the weekend wasn't much different from how we usually spend them--parked in front of a computer game, catching up on work, watching cooking shows, going to a movie, eating an expensive meal--I was just indescribably happy that he was the person I was with.

Sunday night, I got some sad (but, to be honest, unsurprising) news about a relative. I can't say much about it except I couldn't stop thinking about how much damage the fallout would inflict on the people around, and I couldn't stop thinking about the people to whom the damage would be most acute. Mostly, I wanted to shield them if and when the bomb dropped, but I wasn't sure if it was my place.

All I've wanted in the past year or so was some semblance of stability for myself (the shallow part of me thinks that this hole can be filled with real estate). That night, however, all I wanted for my birthday was the best for other people, particularly Martin and my family.

"Please, God, do what's best for ______." I learned that prayer from Madeleine L'Engle, who didn't write just fantasy stories but also some really good books about life, faith, and writing. It's the prayer I use when I want something so terribly for someone but have neither the power nor the right to bring about.

My own birthday was a pretty ordinary day. I saw Martin in the morning, brought my co-workers pizza for lunch, and reunited with my mom and brother at night for a quiet dinner in Megamall. But I went to bed feeling hugely grateful.

I want to live. I want to be with Martin, be good at my work, make my little projects, go all domestic, and be happy while I'm at it. I still don't know what for except maybe for life's own sake, and I'm excited by the prospect. Suddenly, I'm terribly afraid that something bad will happen to me before I get the chance. How I got here from last week's "I feel meaningless," especially considering that I haven't actually hit upon a precise meaning, is a complete mystery. But I won't ask questions.


*Word has been changed to protect myself. But I will say they are the only thing about this job that make me want to pull a Steven Slater.

I take comfort in the fact that our company founder once told a Slatekin to go to hell. But he's dead, and times are hard.

Bleargh

It's been a hectic week at work, and I can't even talk about it because I might get into trouble or, at the very least, insult someone (however much they may deserve it. Grumble, grumble). I'm just happy that the weekend is here.

Tomorrow: running errands, maybe catching up with Edwin, and then watching "Walang Sugat" at the Ateneo with my Eliazo roommates. Sunday: much-needed bum time (I feel like collapsing in relief just thinking about it), and maybe another play, "Banaag at Sikat" with Martin at the CCP. Monday: more bum time. Long weekends for the win!