how could it be february already?

i haven't even posted a year-ender! (not that i intended to, really) :)

and how could that cold breeze from Siberia last only a week?

damn it.

everyday leads me closer to being twice a dozen.

... how could my thoughts be so incoherent?

the nights have gotten colder

     the sky, prettier.

the kids have gotten bigger, brighter

     and time, shorter.

the pillar of strength has gotten weaker

     and abundance, lesser.

life has gotten faster, harder

     and fear, stronger.

the world has been changing, but

er.

where's my comparative suffix?

6:30 pm (Wednesday) - I get a text message regarding the suspension of classes the following day. I wondered why.

7:30 am (Thursday) – Found the answer to my question. The continuous raining, albeit mild, left the streets flooded ankle-deep. I shrug and tell myself the weather's telling me to stay home and work on my papers.

11:30 am - The lights went out, and I'm pissed that I wouldn't be able to use the computer.

12 noon – Rey comes knocking, and tells me work was cancelled. Not long after, the weather got real messy, and it became worse by the minute. Behind our glass window we watched disaster unfold: the iron sheets that fence the parking space below us collapsed. A Notary Public shack got tossed and turned beyond recognition. A cab's windshield was shattered.

Simultaneously, water began dripping from atop our window and through the cracks where the aircon was. When we tried to fix it, the feeble Styrofoam pieces broke and fell, leaving a huge hole where water kept pouring in. We spent the next thirty minutes mopping and doing everything we could to keep the water out.

1:30 pm – We conclude that the worst is over. We stare at the wet curtains, the hole which is still there, and our flood paraphernalia, and didn't know what hit us. I learned just this morning that it's the strongest typhoon to hit Manila in 11 years, but I didn't need the papers to tell me that.

4:00 pm – We are faced with the ultimate problem: Hunger. We haven't had lunch, and the flood control left us weary, but since I rely on an electric stove, no can do.

We decide to brave the weather and take the route to Rob…

…which turned out to be a waste of energy and fifteen pesos because surprise of all surprises, it's closed! Damn. We decided to walk around in search for a place to eat, and ended up at Chow King.

6:00 pm – We're back home, with nothing better to do than have a game of Worms, and sing stupid songs.

8:00 pm – We have an unsatisfying candlelit dinner at Wendy's. Things are calm by now, but power is still out. We hang out by the stairs, sharing a pack of Cheez-it while he plays with more Worms and I unsuccessfully wait for news on FM mode.

9:30 pm – Sad about all the uprooted trees, the fallen structures, the casualties, the hungry, the sick… and yes, the missed episode of Grey's Anatomy. As I closed my eyes to sleep, I was only thankful that I wasn't alone through the whole thing.

Had a facial last Tuesday.

That should be a good thing. But for me, who has the misfortune of having perpetually bad skin, it was 30 minutes of teeth-gritting, jaw-clenching, tear-jerking torture.

I fervently hope that no child of mine would have to endure dermatologic problems.

*        *        *

The waiting time after they put cold gook on my face had me reading an issue of Preview magazine, the one with KC Concepcion the cover.  I like her a lot. I check out her blog. You might want to, too: http://kooki.multiply.com

Anyway, that shoot had her dressed in disco fashion--bright colors, drapey blouses, cinched belt, and leggings.

Tell you what, if there's a fashion era I absolutely don't get, it's the 80s. I find it funny, almost horrific. I know how they say that fashion trends go around in circles, but I kinda believed 80s style is so outrageous, it's never coming back.

I was wrong. (I'm no fashion expert, anyhow, so no harm there.)

The patent belt is all over, and leggings are becoming a staple. Surprisingly, it works.

Not in my wardrobe, though.

I dare not. Never did, anyway.

Because if there's one thing I have too much of, it's Fear.

But let's save that for another day. :)

To all concerned:

I'm fine.

Don't mind Bo Beep, or the mess, or 23.

They're products of my...moments--certain states that I don't want to be in but inevitably have to be.

I'm just not inclined to write about happy things. Maybe my muse is an angry one. Or sad. So the entries end up in that dark, melodramatic mood. Besides, I think melancholy is more poetic. More creative.

Rest assured, all is well.

Except perhaps for the obvious fact that I have separation anxiety, I'm good.

But hey.

Thanks, anyway. :)

A month ago, my head was abuzz with life-changing plans. I thought that by today I have done things that would change me forever. I didn't. And here I am, hanging, waiting.

None of the whirlwind plans happened, and I sure hope they haven't been forgotten.

I wonder how much of it will materialize before the year ends.

I wonder.

Because I've got 23 on my mind.

I realize that's still young, and I have my whole life ahead of me, but I also know that I'm not getting any younger.

I'm feeling the need to rush things.

If all was right in the world, I would have finished my master's degree, gotten married, gone to a better place, and had a baby (not necessarily in that order, but it hey, it'd be nice if it was)--all before I'm 25.

But that's just 2 years from now, so I guess it's time to make negotiations with myself. :)

23 on my mind.

When I was a kid, the age seemed like a long shot. I thought I would have a accomplished a good deal by now. Made money, seen places, knew more... I thought I'd be this great person who's managed to change the world in her on little way. I thought things would be a lot different.

Oh, well.

It just tells me one thing:

Even as a kid, I thought too much.

eyes wide open.

4 am.

empty.

panic.

rush.

convenience store.

call.

cancel.

sorry.

ha.

humor me.

can't go back.

three more hours.

screw it.

up.

walk. aimlessly.

no tears.

music heals.

easily my worst week in a long time.