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The Business Class Lounge
i have been in manila for more than a week and it is only now, here in the Centennial Airport PAL Business Class Lounge, that i feel like updating this.
Mostly i cant update because lets face it... who wants to update a blog when youre on freaking holidays?
and secondly, dial-up connection back home drives me to tears.
julien and i are on our way to ilocos right now, for 5 days. i dont know if there are enough things to do there in 5 days, but we have the trusty lonely planet with us.
the weather is so damn warm and apparently it is warmer where we are going. thank god i brought my bee-kee-nee.
also i am sorry that it took so long for the next PINOYexpats issue to be launched, but here it is.
The archives is still abit dodgy but we need more time for that to be fixed.
if there are any bugs please report!***
last night i watched my brother play with his band bagetsafonik at saguijo, makatis version of big sky mind. he plays bass very well and their band is fucking good. i am envious.
mari, if you are reading this, ill text you as soon as i get back to manila and we'll meet up, promise! i havent had any load on my phone ever since i arrived.
pinayhekmi and toni, ill email you two when i get back! hope we can meet!
now i am off to eat all the freebies i can.
Zorro the Dog
Zorro the dog was brought home - "saved" - by my father from imminent death, because he had a bad leg and the original owner didn't want to keep him because he was the weakest link amongst his brothers.
So Zorro came to our house while I was still mourning over my recently-deceased dog, Taho, killed by stomach worms.
He was furry and white and had a black spots over his eyes (hence, the name Zorro), and he really had a limp and was obviously the weakest link.
(As he grew up, though, the black spots over Zorro's eyes moved further up his head and away from his eyes, giving off the impression of having arched eyebrows and a perpetually surprised expression.)
It bothered me for days that he wasn't barking. You'd step on his tail and he'd just open his mouth in pain.
Of course, nobody doubted the fact that Zorro was the dumbest dog to limp on earth. At a very young age he exhibited his dumbness by running straight into walls, or never remembering where his food was.
My Father made valiant efforts to redeem Zorro's reputation, claiming that he was a descendant of Siberian Huskies (the connection being that Zorro's main colours were black and white).
How it was possible that Zorro, of askal parents, mysteriously contracted Husky genes, as if Husky genes were pollen blown in all the way from Alaska to Quezon City, is of no interest to my father - he doesn't care about these details... "but Zorro's a Husky!"
Siberian Huskies, native to Siberia and brought to Alaska, are said to be intelligent, playful, sled-dogs. They are said to be happy to work for hours on end, and that they have great stamina and need hours of exercise.
With this in mind I poked Zorro with a stick while he slept, hoping he would wake up and playfully bite my head and drag me across the house yipping happily, like a sled dog should. Instead, he groaned and ignored me. A fly buzzing over his head completed the picture.
And so years passed and Zorro never failed to amaze us. His exhibitions of sloth and laziness were so incredible that we bragged about it to friends and invited them over to witness the magic themselves.
One time Julien was using the computer and heard an old man snoring and turned around in surprise; it was just me and my brother Tom in the room, and of course, Zorro. Julien's face filled with wonder (and eventually, disgust) as the three of us bent over to watch this faux Husky snore and twitch from time to time in his sleep.
News has reached me that Zorro has fathered a child, baptised Butchog, who is the complete opposite of Zorro - intelligent, trainable, and not a Siberian Husky. He can fetch, he is playful, and is a canal water-brown colour.
Obviously, Butchog has inherited 99% of his mother's genes (His mother is my aunt's dog, Olga, 100% askal).
The remaining 1%, he exhibits during New Year's eve, where he and his dad Zorro cower under the table, their dog-knees knocking in fear, as my brothers light up Sinturon ni Hudas-es.
Why I wrote a long post about Zorro puzzles me. There is something seriously wrong here.
State of Panic
So many things to do before leaving there are a million boxes on the floor need to wash a lot of clothes need to eat all the food in the fridge panicking about my titre de sejour my towel still isn't dry there is a dead cookie on the floor and no one is vacuuming it up files to burn projects to finish planes to catch clouds to bottle seatbelts to fasten
Do You Read Me ?
I Am Listening To :
+ the newest Nine Inch Nails (With Teeth) + Bloc Party (who isn't listening to Bloc Party anyway?) (Nou-thin' / e-vah / hap-pens)
Not guaranteed to please everyone but it pleases me, and being extremely selfish when it comes to music that's all that matters.
Thank you Lionel for the heads-up!
Castaways
When the doctor removed the cyst from my wrist (which has unfortunately returned), I experienced the true meaning of helplessness.
She told me : No tennis, and don't use the computer.
When I got home I opened the computer and sent an email to my mom explaining that I couldn't use the computer because I had a cyst removed and my wrist was bandaged really tightly and that she shouldn't worry if she didn't hear from me for awhile, and yes I was attaching a photo of my bandage and it was my first time to have a bandage ever and...
After a very long email to my mother I chatted with some friends online...
And then I tried to draw on my journal to see how ugly my handwriting would be (it was very ugly).
And then I took a knife to cut myself pieces of saucisson for a snack using my bandaged wrist...
And then I told myself I'd just take a peek at my emails, and promptly answered 5 mails (took me around an hour)...
And that night when my wrist started to hurt I complained nonstop.
The sad part is that I will have to have an operation because the damned thing is back and it's not dangerous but very uncomfortable.
It was the first time in my entire life to have a cast of whatever. I used to be secretly jealous of classmates or cousins with huge chunks of cast on their legs or arms after falling from mango trees because everyone could write dedications on their casts and they looked very special and important.
Anyway I was complaining quite bitterly about how "having a cast made me feel half-myself" (I can be very dramatic and profound to cover up the fact that I make no sense at all) and Julien reminded me that he, too, had an accident when he was in Jordan, which required the doctor to cast his wrist and that he knew exactly how I felt.
Although his case was an accident brought on purely by stupidity: During his first day off in around 2 months, he rolled out of bed at lunchtime (lunchtime!) and tried to separate two frozen pieces of steak and drove a knife directly between his thumb and index finger.
 At least the story behind my bandaged wrist is more sophisticated.
The Force is Strong Here
Let's start with this fact : I don't know anything about Star Wars. Okay, that's not entirely true. It's set in space, right? And Yoda's part of the "good" gang. And they use light sabers. I also picked up from Toy Story 2 that the sentence "I am your father" is very Star Wars-y.
A few weeks back Julien and I watched the third... well, the third movie that preceeds the first real movie.
I sincerely pretended to look like I knew what or who the Droids were while we were lining up for the film.
I thought I could buy some popcorn so I could pretend to be fishing for unpopped corn kernels at the bottom of the tub to chew on whenever I didn't understand what was happening, but the popcorn machine was marked broken.
I thought the theme song of Star Wars was the theme song of Superman - I mixed them up.
The movie was exciting (listen to me! 'The movie was exciting'. God what an idiot I am - that's the only adjective i can come up with) --- okay, the movie "had me at the edge of my seat" (ha), but I kept scratching my arm - not only because of my mosquito bite - but also because I was wondering when Harrison Ford or at least the actor playing the young Harrison Ford would come out.
When Queen amidala was having a rough time giving birth, I tugged Julien's arm to ask him if she was going to die.
He rolled his eyes and ignored, to the best of his ability, my Star Wars ignorance.
When Queen Amidala finally did die I once again whispered to Julien, "But she doesn't really die, right? 'Cause she's going to be in the next episode, right?"
"Of course she's dead!" he seethed.
I should have shut up then, but I tried to redeem myself by following up the blunder with another question.
"But the babies- are they going to die?"
Julien tsk'ed. "Of course not! They're going to be Princess Leia and Luke Skywalker." He looked incredulous at my question.
So, I sulked back in my seat, worrying about my Star Wars ignorance.
No I didn't. I don't really care about Star Wars.
*dodges flying tomatoes and rotten cabbage heads being thrown at my direction from Star Wars fans*
PINOYexpats : 6th issue
While you're here (yes, all my 2 readers!), please visit the 6th issue of PINOYexpats! This issue's theme is Estudyante Blues.
Tennis Outfits
I am seriously so pissed off at Julien.
Each time we play tennis, he wears the same shirt/shorts/sneaker colour as I do!
When we start getting dressed for tennis he always wants to know what I'm going to wear.
Of course I don't tell him, and hide my shirt under a sweater, or shorts under jogging pants...
But when we get to the court he peels off his sweater, grinning like an ass, and he's wearing the exact same outfit.
IT'S EMBARASSING!
I thought it was cute before but now I'm just pissed off. It's all a game to him.
And he has the nerve to say, "But we look like a TEAM!"
If I don't have team spirit then so be it.
Those random phone calls
I just called my mother earlier and our conversation went something like this :
Me: Hi Mommy! Sorry, I forgot to greet you Happy Mothers Day.
Mommy: Hello, hello, Kala, how are you? Zorro! Bark! It's Kala!
Zorro: *does not bark*
Me: Mommy. Happy Mothers day.
Mommy: Thank you! Thank you. Kala, Denise has her wedding dress.
Kala: Wow, anong kulay?
Mommy: What do you mean, anong kulay? Siyempre off-white.
Kala: *snicker*
Mommy: Zorro!
Kala: Why are you talking to Zorro? what did you get for Mothers Day?
Mommy: 7 roses! I mean 14! 7 red and 7 white!
Kala: Bakit seven?
Mommy: What do you mean, bakit seven?
Kala: *pause* Mommy ang labo mo.
Mommy: Then Denise and I had a fight!
...
Really, I love my Mom but sometimes I don't get her. Must have been all the grass in the 70s.
Toothpicks
Ever since I quit smoking, I have been trying to find ways to amuse my mouth and my fingers.
--- That sounds horrid.
Now, I am at the Toothpick Stage. Toothpick chewing looks a bit crass (especially in public places), but it is so far the most effective method of keeping my mind away from the act of tapping a cigarette box to let the ciggie slide smoothly into my palm, then bringing the lighter up to the tip of the stick and inhaling the....
Hum... I was talking about the Toothpick Stage. *splashes cold water over face*. Most effective, and fairly cheap too. I don't know how much a box of toothpicks costs. Probably nothing, if you compare this to nicotine patches or actual cigarettes... Marlboro Lights -- the Marlboro Lights from the Philippines taste different really, when you take a drag from the...
*splashes more cold water over face* Anyway, we have two toothpick boxes, and we transfered the Unused Toothpicks into one box so we could put the Chewed Toothpicks into the other. Both boxes are sitting next to the computer screen, since I am infront of the computer 90% of the time.
So I took a toothpick from a box and started chewing, and in seconds I was busy spitting splinters from my mouth, thinking, Geez, they don't make toothpicks the way they used to, eh?
And then Julien pointed out that I was chewing a chewed-up toothpick.
No wonder it tasted funny.
No, please, don't stand up to thank me for grossing you out. It's okay really, a simple Thank You will do.
Random
Kala : "What if we were rich enough to wear bathrobes all day and walk around drinking champagne from the bottle?" Julien : "Okay, just one second... do you have your camera?"
I've got the right to sing the blues
I'm not sure what time I was born exactly, but last night I couldn't wait for midnight to strike so I could read my birthday present, which is a Calvin and Hobbes 10th year Anniversary book.
I'm listening to the Shins' "New Slang" and it makes turning 26 easier. I think it's the way the guitar is being strummed - easy, soft. Am I turning softer? Am I losing all my hard edges?
My parents called earlier and greeted me a Happy 25th birthday. I didn't bother reminding them that I am now 26; it's one of those beautiful mistakes where you become a year younger : If your mother tells you that you're 25 instead of 26, who are you to argue? How can the woman who gave birth to you be wrong?
Haven't been to work for the last 2 weeks because of a company strike. I thought I'd enjoy the free days but I'm going out of my mind. So, I scheduled what needed to be scheduled : a wrist-cyst operation, a trip to the dentist, a trip to the opthalmologist (spelling?). I was looking forward to meeting people today, but since it's Tuesday nobody can come so I guess I'll stay in bed and wait for Juju to call...
The sky is pregnant with rain and I just wish the water would fall and give in.
I think the best I've accomplished last year was to quit smoking cold turkey. The next thing I managed to do was find a job and to speak French.
I wish I could be more artistic again. I wish I could travel more. I wish I could be less shy. I wish I could stop being scared to start painting again, or to start writing again.
I'm always a bit emotional during my birthdays because it is usually that time of the month for me, so forgive me.
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