Tag Archive: weekends

It Could Be NightFall

As we lay on the grass,
your belly was my pillow.
I was reminiscing
as you checked on the news.
The sky was that in-between color of cold pink,
little particles of water vapor vex and touch us randomly-
stirring a wariness of a hesitant drizzle.

Your breath is steady
while mine is drowned in the sound of you,
the feel of every blade of grass,
tasting my skin through my clothes.

Now, I do not care for the filth.
I do not care for the myriad footsteps that trampled our bed.
I do not care for the
waste of pleasures consumed,
of moments stolen
and light beams evaded.

I see the past,
and how blurry it is
through my myopic memory.

The stars themselves could not decide
whether to shine or fade.
They twinkle,
like your eyes and mine.
They zoom,
however steady in the sky.
And they each hold a wish for you and me.
A promise once only
hung upon a tree.

Is the earth exhaling or is the sky breathing down on us?
Is the world turning
or do we drive it around?
Is that not my heart beating in your chest?
Is this not your warmth kindling my breast?

It could be night fall,
the crickets have assured it.
But it is only dawn.

And you are with me.



Jade: …I’d definitely want to see you again soon.

Me: I don’t blame you.

Jade: I forgive you.

So this is the upswing. Finally, things started looking up after I settled my finances. I hate to admit it, as I said to Nikki, but money does make you happy. Well, money helps make being happy easier.

Last week spelled an end to the slump that I have been on for a while now. This makes writing difficult so allow me to detail the events prosaically.

I had just finished doing my Performance Review for the first half of the year and boy, have I been working! The form, which didn’t include my manager’s comments was fourteen pages long!!!

On Thursday, I went shopping for something to wear for an interview I was having on Friday. After several hours of going around the mall, I finally found a store that had shoes my size and not juvenile-looking. I got myself a new pair of dark wash jeans which I have been on the search for forever. Say what you want, but Bench jeans are the only jeans that fit me well. I know getting one from Zara or Topman would appeal better to the finnicky tastes of some people I know, but what the heck, I can wear a shirt that I got from the teens section of a department store and make everyone think it’s designer. (I may be exaggerating here)

I broke in my jeans by heading out to Malate by myself. Yes, it was one of those “date-yourself days” that I have from time to time. For effect, I wore a shirt that said “ALONE” in front, and “AGAIN” at the back. It was a very witty shirt and I got it for the rough equivalent of two US dollars, when I went to Bangkok.

I went to a karaoke place I used to go to with the Hasslas (a group of friends I went to Boracay and Puerto with). Since I come here every time I happen to find myself in Malate, the bartender recognized me and cleared a spot for me at the bar. I ordered a cocktail since it wasn’t a beer day and started deliberating if I should pick a song and sing to a group of over-achieving singers.

There were 14 songs in queue, I figured by my turn, I’d be too drunk to care. I downed my drink, picked three songs and ordered another one.

Meanwhile, a guy with slits for eyes was scoping me from a table close to the bar. He looked like an ex of mine who owed me money. I was almost going to ask for it back when I realized that he was Chinese and not Japanese.

He asked me to join his table (he was out with his sister). And I stayed with them until the bar shut down. He was a little drunk and was starting to get argumentative with the cashier. They helped me hail a cab, and right before I got in, Eize (Chinese guy) asked if I wanted to sleep beside him that night. I got in and shut the door right away.

On Friday, I was on time for the interview. It was for a lower post but with a better package. Plus, I get to work with my two best friends and have time to take for a Master’s degree if I wanted. Since the guy who was interviewing me knew me for a long time, the assessment wasn’t so difficult. His only question was, if I really wanted to get that job because there is hardly any upward movement in that company.

See, I set a goal for myself and my career. I told myself that I will become a Manager by the age of 30. I’m going to be 27 in a month. I’m several steps away from that goal if I stay with this company. At the same time, I could pursue a different goal of becoming a Psychologist if I move to the other one.

I received another offer from one of my old bosses who is looking for a supervisor for the company that she is currently country manager of. It’s very promising and I’d really want to explore that as well.

To continue the theme of exploration, I explored the possibility of flinging myself back into the dating scene again (or at least opening myself to the prospect of meeting other people). So last night, I met a guy from UP.

Jade’s first boyfriend is Joel, who is an estranged friend of mine. They were together five or six years ago. He also had a crush on an ex-boyfriend of mine who I lived with for a week.

Cubao Expo at Dusk

He took me to Cubao Expo which is a haven for beatniks, hipsters, hippies, artsy folk and people from UP. In short, this is MY TOWN. I’ve been here before but never with as much people around. People had to queue up before getting in that night because it was “Meiday” and a lot of indie bands were playing.

I bumped into Claren, who I always bump into in very random places (story to follow). And I almost jumped out of my skin seeing that I actually knew someone who was in that sea of people. Claren looked impeccable as usual and was with a guy who looked exactly like him. I introduced him to Jade.

Jade knew a lot of people in Cubao X. So I went around the motions of the “hi’s and hello’s”, “great-to-meet-you’s” and “oh-you-look-familiar-have-we-met-before’s.” He introduced me to one of the finalists from Project Runway Philippines that I had a MAJOR crush on. I didn’t realize it was him at first. I used the third line on him. To be fair, he didn’t mention PRP, I just realized it after Jade brought it up half an hour later.

Now that I think about it, Jade reminded me so much of Jo, my last boyfriend. He was mature, artistic, secure, and not so good looking. I got his jokes and he got mine. We caught each other’s punchlines. He had the same taste in music, the same penchant for judging pretentious people and most glaringly, the same level of touchiness. We would be stopping at several spots around the Cubao X compound and look like a black and white blob. He was all over me. But not in a salacious way.

We were talking about the rain I think when he stole a kiss and walked off to toss his drink down the drain. For a few seconds, I was stunned, caught off-guard. I didn’t know what to make of it. When he came back, I just carried on with the conversation as if nothing happened.

He took me to Future which is the bar below a boutique called the “I Love You Store.” I told him to get me a cocktail and he ordered what would be dubbed as the drink of the week… My Shirota.

My Shirota is a mixture of Korean Soju, Yakult (a fermented milk drink almost every kid I know is addicted to), and Grenadine.

Equals My Shirota

It tasted of every good memory I had as a child. It was very appropriate for the theme of the night. It was sweet and tangy and pink.

After floating around Cubao for several hours we grabbed a bite and decided to sound trip by the curb. It was 3AM and there were blisters the size of nickels on each of my heels (why did I ever not wear socks?) I was so tired but I wanted to float some more. So I decided I’d check into a hotel with Jade.

I asked if he would sleep with me if we slept together. And he told me that he wasn’t sure. I laughed and told him that I didn’t know the answer to that question either.

We slept naked with our arms around each other and we woke up 11 hours later.

We had breakfast and coffee at 4PM and we took the train home after two hours.

I got home and commenced a thirty minute search for my other phone. As I was calling myself and listening intently for the opening verse of Bic Runga’s “Good Morning, Baby,” I pondered on the reasons why the past week was one of the best I had.

Like My Shirota, it was a cocktail blast from the past–a mix of familiar feelings: the satisfaction of a shopping find, the thrill of getting scoped by a stranger, the pride of being sought after by a job instead of the other way around, the excitement of being in the company of beatniks from UP and the tenderness of falling asleep in someone else’s arms.

I’m Here Now

Anniversary namin ni Day kahapon.

Okay, technically, hindi naman kami. Pero napagkasunduan namin (meaning, ininsist ko sa kanya) na anniversary talaga namin ang June 27. Yun kasi ang unang beses na nag-usap kami ever. Sabi ko sa kanya na dapat magdate kami ng June 27, pero since Pride Parade nung sabado at dahil 7PM na siya umuwi kinabukasan, at aaminin ko, hindi rin ako umalis ng bahay, hindi kami natuloy.

Medyo naoverwhelm nga ako ng kaunti sa nagdaang weekend. Kasi, dahil sobrang galing kong mag-cyberstalk, nahanap ko yung profile nung unang lalaking naka-date ko ever. Ang aking pers lab. Oo, siya yung sinulat ko dito dati. Na naging dahilan kung bakit ako naging sappy writer for a while. Ang sukatan ng lahat ng lalaking nakadate ko since (pero napalitan na yata yung standard ko mula nang maging kami ni Jo, huwaw… o Bub, gusto mo yun?).

Anyway, sobrang nagpapaka-nonchalant ako about the whole experience. Pero minessage niya ako sa Facebook tapos midconversation, tumawag siya sa telepono, at slight nagpanic ako at nalagay ko sa call waiting tapos hindi ko na alam kung paano ko siya babalikan kasi never naman akong nagcacall waiting ever, kaya dinrop ko yung call tapos tinawagan ko ulit siya. Yes, may ganung clumsy drama na nangyari.

Dun ko napagtanto na may kurot pa rin pala sa puso ang nakaraan.

Tapos medyo nabuwisit ako kasi nung tinitingnan ko yung mga fotos niya sa Facebook eh nakita kong hindi nagdiminish ang ka-cute-an niya. In fact, ang sexy sexy niya na ngayon. At mukhang bakla na talaga siya (as opposed to the conflicted bicurious self he was nung una kaming magdate).

So obviously, nagsound na naman ang mga chimes sa brain ko. Tapos slight nagdream ako na baka kaya niya ako kinocontact ngayon ay dahil gusto niya na kami bigyan ng second try. Na medyo kina-upset ko, kasi I was doing so great not needing to have someone in my life, tapos biglang eto na naman si ultimate “The One” at gusto ko na naman yata ng happily ever after.

Tapos naalala ko na ako pala ang nagstalk sa kanya. So na-cancel out lahat ng daydream.

Si Stephen, Heartbreaker ng HongKong

Bago ako bumalik sa “what if- what if” at “I wonder – I wonder”, e mabilis ko nang pinigilan ang sarili ko. Ngayon ko lang nakikita ang value ng “if it’s meant to be… or not to be, that is the question.”

Nireview ko ang nakaraan at ang history ko sa mga ganitong uri ng interaction. Napansin ko na tuwing may gusto akong makatuluyan ay bigla kong iniiwan ang sarili ko sa ere at hinahayaan kong mahulog ang sarili ko sa isang imaginary kumunoy. As in “dive”–no, more like “plummet”. Kung hopeless romantic kang gaya ko, alam kong alam mo yung feeling na yun: na lumalaki nang sobra yung object of your affection tapos nagkakaroon siya ng sobrang lakas na gravity, at kahit na tumatakbo ka palayo e wala ka ring choice kundi magrevolve at magrevolve sa kanya (may centripetal force).


kailangan natin ng moment para ma-appreciate yung image na yun. Ang witty kasi…

Okay, moment over.

So after almost five years, e ngayon ko lang talaga narealize na alam ko na ang dapat gawin sa mga ganitong sitwasyon. At feeling ko, dahil matanda na ako, alam ko na na minsan kung alam ko kung anong tamang gawin e dapat yun ang gawin ko.

So bago pa siya tuluyang lumaki (ulit) e pinili ko nang bigyan ang sarili ko ng isang matinding dose of reality.

To reinforce the message, nanood ako ng “He’s Just Not That Into You” kanina. At naalala kong crush ko nga pala si Justin Long.

Naisip kong ang pakikipagrealsyon ay hindi isang hunting expedition. Rather, dapat mo siyang gawing fishing trip.

Sure, kailangan mong mag-exert ng effort. Sure, kailangan mo ng bait, kailangan mo ng line, kailangan mo ng hook, ng sinker, at ng fabulous na fishing outfit, pero pagna-cast mo na yung line, keri na yun. Wait, wait ka na dapat ng bite. Walang sense na sisirin mo yung sapa tapos manually mong isukbit yung pain sa bibig nung fish. Dahil ang tawag doon ay hindi fishing kundi overkill.

Sobrang guilty ako sa ganyan.

Which brings me to the next kuwento…

Saturday night ang birthday party ni Jeremy sa Cubao. 8:30 ang party pero siyempre, 10PM na ako dumating kasi ayaw ko naman maging atat. Dumating ako sa isang party ng mga fresh grad na never ko pang nameet. Mabuti na lang at nandun na si Micay at si Toni, na parehong, naeewan din sa mga kaganapan. Contrary to my past experiences in reference to Jeremy’s house parties, medjo droll at honestly, slightly irritating ang party na ito.

Pagpasok ko pa lang ay binati ko na si Jeremy. “Happy birthday!” quieme, na may absence ng usual touchiness. E mesyo busy na siya kaka-ayos ng mga sheeznit so pumunta na lang ako malapit kay Micay para maka-catch up kami ng konti. So pagdating ko, umuulan na ng compliments from Micay. “Bakit ang guwapo mo ngayon?”, “Ang cute,cute naman ng outfit mo.” “Uy, grabe namiss kita.”

Sinegundahan pa yun ni Toni (ang bestfriend ni Jeremy) na super nagpapaka-social butterfly. So parang, ooo–kaaayyy (something’s fishy), sabi nila kain na daw ako. Sabi ko naman, wait lang, iinom lang ako konti muna.

I was asking them about the pink drink they served me, sabi ni Micay, si Migs daw gumawa nun. I was like, “sinong Migs?” tapos speechless na si Micay.

In reality, may idea na ako kung sino si Migs, kasi si Day, na hari ng mga cyberstalkers, ay inaasar ako dahil magkamukha daw kami nun.

Finally, sinabi rin ni Toni na si Migs na ang boyfriend ni Jeremy. Nagpause ako for a change… sabay sabi ng “Ah, ganun…” tapos kumain na ako.

The whole night, ni minsan, di ko naka-interact si Migs. Dahil kahit may opportunity, di ko naman alam ang sasabihin ko. I mean, di naman protocol na mag-catch up kami diba? After all, hindi nga ako inintroduce ni Jeremy sa kanya.

I decided to leave early kasi dead na yung party at frankly, hindi na ako interesado magstay dahil nagbibuild na yung awkwardness, especially after Jeremy told our group na ine-alienate daw namin yung mga friends ni Migs. Ayoko ng drama. Sayang ang outfit ko. At nasesense kong mababadtrip lang ako. So I left.

I said goodbye to Jeremy and gave him an awkward hug (he was getting something from the cooler kasi). I don’t know what to make of it. Pero for a change, I just want to keep it that way. There’s no point over-analyzing. I’ve been doing that forever and it’s got me nowhere.

Kagabi, nagpost ako sa Facebook ng status message:

“There are two things that the past can do with equal intensity: show you how much you’ve changed, and show you how exactly the same you are.”

Original yang quote na yan. Hahahaha…

At kaya ko naisip yun kasi totoo naman talaga siya. Pero ang mas mahalagang lesson diyan ay habang nagkakaroon ka ng maraming past (meaning, kung nagmamature ka), ay dapat nadidistinguish mo na rin kung ano ba sa mga changes ang dapat mong i-retain at kung ano bang sameness ang gusto mong i-leave behind.

I have always asked myself, why it was difficult for others to see how great I am. I mean, a lot of people can see it plainly. You guys do, right? (Huwaw, major Fishing!!!) but never the ones I wanted to show myself to.

Then I realized, it was never about them really. It was about me. Sometimes, pinapackage natin yung sarili natin para magustuhan tayo ng iba. Hindi natin napapansin na in the times when we’re not looking, other people see us and they like the view… a lot.

June 27 ang anniversary namin ni Day. And he happens to be one of the people who see me when I’m not looking. And like me… a lot.

I figured, whatever the past does, there’s always something that ties it to the present. It’s the fact that I was there, and I’m here now. And the distance between the two is completely under my control. It’s taken several years for me to come to this point when I can look at the past and see it for what it is: a series of memories.

There’s no sense living my life holding on to the things that I wanted to have in the past. There’s no sense dwelling on the “what if’s” and “I wonder’s.” Those things were never real, and there’s no guarantee that they will ever be real.

I’m here now.



It’s not for the tiny hairs on my nape
That rise to the occassion
Of your touch
That I am moved
By you over the universe that is my bed.

Nor the faint but hurried whisper
Of the ticking clock
(Our time together)
The second second gallops
Like a horse in the clouds-
They should be silent-
But they rumble
Like my heart.

Not the gray sky
At 5AM that ushers the smell
Of the neighbor’s breakfast
When the warmth of your
Sleeping arms begin to gather dew
Against my skin.

Nor the smell of the sun
On your hair when you wake
And realize that you spent the night
Without meaning to–

Because you cannot bear
Deserting me.
Not when I am a naked seed that
Craves the earth of your embrace
That springs in the morning
A two-leafed shoot.

It’s when you wake
And realize that you
Don’t belong here
A seedling grew
Where there shouldn’t be.
You till me
Like the soil strewn
With your clothes across the floor.

The swift imagined pain
I feel when you rip yourself
Off my chest

Mimicking a sting
In my heart.


It was raining on the Friday that we met.
When you walked past me.
When I fancied being hurt by it.
It was a gentle kind of rain…
The kind that pitterpatters on a tin roof.

It was raining that same Friday that we sat together.
When you called me Shiela.
When I asked you to promise me you’d devastate me.
It turned into a thicker kind of rain…
The kind that reminds you of a thousand little hearts beating.

It was raining that Saturday.
When you crushed me in your embrace.
When I turned myself into a straw house.
It was a steady kind of rain…
The kind that anchors a love song like a drone.

It was raining that Sunday.
When you tied my hands behind me.
When I was soaking in vulnerability.
It was a soft kind of rain…
The kind that wells out of your eyes as tears.

It was raining that Monday.
When you asked me to forget I met you.
When I began to erode in confusion.
It was a violent kind of rain…
The kind that drowns your screams.

I hope it rains on Friday.
When you become a vague memory.
When I am left like the mud after a great flood.
I hope it is an invisible kind of rain…
The kind that you can walk through, as if it weren’t raining.

Weekend Wife

Not the one you were hoping for,
I’m afraid this might be the end of it.
As the credits rolled on the movie
We were supposed to be watching
Together, I awake slowly
From falling asleep in your arms,
Where I felt so at home
When there was nobody there
And all the lights were off
And the rhythm of your moaning
Was all I could hear
As I keep myself from gagging
From the scent of another man
On your crotch, I try to lap up
Every last drop of love that he missed
Or left behind.
You have a way of pulling yourself back
Into my picture
After a week’s worth of absence.
I must teach myself that you are only mine when it is
When your life and mine
Suffer a plateau.
When all the chores are through
And it is too much of an effort to
Go outside. We will make my couch
Our home. And pretend that this
Is the only life we’ve had all along.
No sense covering your tracks
Or making excuses. I forgive you,
Whether I feign getting hurt by the
Prospect of your infidelity. I hope
You realize when I ask you to give me
Your penis I meant your heart.
If only you could take it out, you say.
It doesn’t matter.
I have resigned to the fact that you would
Never be mine.

Except on Sundays.