{ I HOPE YOU GET THE LITTLE PLAY ON WORDS }

Bucket List Tick

Ride an elephant, ☑!

I know very well from experience that this is going to hurt again and again and AGAIN. But I choose to do something about my hurting, and that is welcome it head on. So, Pain, before I fuck you off with my two middle fingers, I welcome you with open arms.

I’m ready.

All I’ll ever need

Back in high school, my friends and I had this cheesy Valentine’s tradition we called our Valentine’s Day Kris Kringle. A week before the 14th, we had to draw lots to pick our ‘baby’, whom we were supposed to surprise on Valentine’s Day. What started out as a frustration for not having organized a Kris Kringle the previous Christmas, forcing it on another holiday two months later, eventually turned out to be our barkada’s most-awaited event of the year. When we first started out, the mechanics were true to the Christmas version: small gifts were given every day of the week following a certain theme, like “something orange” or “something soft”, with a final surprise on Valentine’s Day itself. But we eventually decided to make do without the gifts come Senior year, and instead draw lots early and plan big for the 14th. True enough, Senior year turned out to be the best—not only because we had the boys to team up with (manpower!!!), but more so because everyone made such an effort to make the most out of our last.

Sometimes, the plans were inconspicuous: during our 3rd year, my friend Cahren found herself silently crying in front of her locker after a slew of handwritten letters came sliding down her feet. Other times, they caused quite a scene: my 4th year surprise for Louine involved falling rose petals from the second floor of the Christ the King Building, on cue with a banner that suddenly rolled down from the veranda and read “Go to Rm. 417.” A boy, if any, was really just a bonus; it wasn’t a matter of who had ‘someone’ in her life then, but about the group effort of making a friend actually feel special on Valentine’s Day.

I look back at all the years we’ve spent the Valentine’s season together, and I can’t help but realize what has changed and what has always stayed same: the same people, some years single, some years in a relationship, and some years in a complication of in-betweens, but a friendship unchanged. Some barkadas have actual anniversaries, some reserve a summer weekend for a yearly beach trip, some would get together before the year’s end; ours would be Valentine’s Day, and I find it pretty meaningful that we’ve come to associate it with each other, just as we would with a better half.

It may be a really crazy, twisted kind of love, but they are my forever. :)

The (re)birth of my baking mojo

Sundays are usually my mom’s kitchen experiment days. But the 4-day weekend was a rarity I just couldn’t pass up, so I decided to take over this afternoon and try my hand at whipping up a batch of Red Velvet Swirl Brownies from a recipe I stumbled upon in my dashboard a few months ago. The author mentioned that it was a safe recipe to use “when your baking mojo has decided to take the day off”, and although I don’t have that much of a baking mojo to begin with, I figured that one on leave was pretty much the same as one that didn’t really exist… yet.

Note to self: Slice with GRACE!

I used to be really big on baking as a kid but I eventually ran out of kitchen time come high school, leaving me to happily recede to my current post as the humble taste-tester. Apparently, not much has changed since: I still have very little confidence plugging big appliances on my own, and zero patience with waiting for the baked goodies to cool. I could tell the wait was pretty worth it though, since there are only three pieces left in the fridge right now, and we’ve all become really territorial about it.

I love my taste-testing responsibilities, but I think I’ve found a new weekend thing. :D

Uwian ka? Paano? Bakit?

I’d get these wide-eyed remarks almost every time people learn that I go home to the South everyday after school. I’d nonchalantly respond with a “Hindi naman ganun ka-layo, eh.”, “Madalas hinahatid-sundo naman ako.” or “Pag maaga naman labas ko, hindi hassle mag-commute. Puro mall pa madadaanan ko.” I find it amusing how people seem to equate the daily trips with some kind of invincibility, but honestly, somehow it really is. Sometimes I also wonder if the whole ordeal is even worth it.

Every time I start losing my mind in the middle of the night to heaps of unfinished school work, at the wee hours of the morning when I have to get up with barely any sleep, or after a heated argument with my parents, I sometimes find myself wanting to pack my bags and move up North for the rest of my stay in college. Everything just seems so much easier that way. The thought of it all seems so enticing—waking up an hour before class, being five minutes and a bridge away from school, taking naps in between long breaks, joining block study groups before exams and having dinner out with friends every night; I think about all the time, money and energy I could save, and I come to conclude how much of a great idea it really is. But I never get around to actually doing it.

I guess a simple “Mas hindi ko ata kakayanin” would be a more truthful response.

When I look back at how I managed to go to and fro for the past three years, I don’t have to look so far out or within to figure out why. It’s the familiarity of the seemingly mundane sights, smells and sounds that keep me sane: our dogs’ 4-second barks before they recognize me at the gate, the dimly-lit living room and the speakers in full volume as I get home to my dad in the middle of a movie, my mom’s daily cries for help as she once again loses her cellphone to her ocean of a handbag, my Lola’s no-fail “Kumain ka na ba?” and our helpers’ chit-chat in Ilonggo. I know everything and everyone so well, I could recognize any of them just by listening to the pace of their footsteps. It’s coming home to the little things—a home-cooked meal or a goodnight kiss—that make up for the sacrifice and keep me from leaving for the allure of ‘convenience’. When I think about it, I’m not the only one paying the price of having to live so far away from school: everyone here at home has given a part of themselves to keep up with my demanding schedule, and all the mood swings that inevitably come with it.

I come from a small household, but this is as complete as I’ll ever be. This isn’t just ‘my house all the way down south’—this is my home, and as long as I can get by, I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.

Truth Decay?

In an effort to go beyond my occasional random page-flipping ‘sign-seeking’, I ended up making a humble attempt at typography as well, set on the humblest of them all: the Bible. Am I even allowed to ‘pimp’ a Bible? I’m not quite sure. But the friendly but rather blatant reminder is definitely serving its purpose, and I’m glad to have finally taken it out of inconspicuousness.

I have a lot of brushing up to do.

“Sustain me according to Your word, that I may live; And do not let me be ashamed of my hope.” ~ Psalms 119:116 :)

2011

Family. Friends-turned-family. Old ones, new ones. Confidence. Laughter. Guilt. Guilty pleasures. Rides. Thrill. Nights-turned-mornings. Sobriety and the opposite. Regrets, no regrets. Sacrifices. “Yeses”, “nos”. Beauty. Like and love. Indifference. Pride. Frustrations. Confrontations. Damp pillows. Expectations vs. reality. Adventure. Achievement. Failure. Acceptance. You win some, you lose some. Nth chances. Openings. Appreciation. Creating. The unexpected. Risks. Calculated risks. Faith. Forgiveness. Inspiration. Learning. Prayer. Transcendence.

2011 was a lot of things. Bumpy as it was, I find myself immensely thankful for the ride, for the people who helped me stay on the road, and most especially, for the direction it has given me as I face another new year ahead. 2011, we did pretty good. 2012… we could be awesome. :)

A very merry Y2 Christmas

To make up for all our failed trick-or-treating plans these past few years, my block and I decided to celebrate Christmas with a costume party here at the south last Friday. A lot of our other blockmates weren’t able to come given the late notice, and quite a few weren’t able to prepare any costumes either. Nevertheless we did have a lot of pretty interesting get-ups that night, from iconic characters to your local kanto boys. Count on Y2 to come up with something witty and resourceful, or more often… RATIONALIZE!

I had my Tinkerbell costume made only a few days before, thinking that lending one of my dresses to the seamstress would suffice for the measurements. But when I got it the night before the party, the bodice turned out too long, the skirt too small to be worn up my thighs and the corset too tight I couldn’t even make the two ends meet. It was either that or a deer costume from a ballet recital five years ago, and while that may have been more in season, I was too sold on Tink to let go of the idea. So, after an emergency trip to the mall on my way home from school and some altering skills I had up my sleeve, I spent the afternoon cutting the whole thing up and reconstructing a new costume myself. In a few hours I managed to come up with a more wearable dress and even a pair of shoes to boot, all with a relatively unharassed face. Grace under pressure! :) I even ended up starting our Kris Kringle, by order of who looked the most prepared! Haha!

Photos c/o Cahren & Karen!

The night was spent catching up over good food and music from Mon’s ever-reliable party playlist, alongside random dancing and rounds of drinking games. While we weren’t able to keep track of the time until around 12:30 when it was time for the others to leave, I’m absolutely sure I spent the first few moments of my birthday laughing like a hyena as I usually do with the block. I wouldn’t have spent the last few minutes of my being 18 nor the first few of my 19th in any other way. :*)

I love you, Y2! Merry Christmas!

Nineteen