Ten-thirty tales at a table for two

It was nighttime. Equally excited, we settled our behinds on the long jeep-benches, sitting across one another. We were talking in chirpy, bright voices, and the jeep’s lone light bulb flickered like a candle, tinged our skin with yellow.

I peered outside, felt the cool air toss the troublesome bangs into my eyes.

“I think it’s here. Right?” I glanced at Reez for some affirmation, as navigation wasn’t one of my strongest traits.

“Hmmm…” her eyes flickered over the square forms, the passing shapes in the darkness. “No, I think it’s there pa.”

The jeep drove on.

A few minutes later, she tossed the driver a “Para ho.”, and we hopped off, fixed our eyes on the little restaurant built to resemble a tree, and the floating lights surrounding it. I pointed to it, said,

“There it is! Shall we trek through the jungle?”

Reez looked indecisive for a moment, and she put her hand to her chin. “No, I think there’s a way through here.”

We walked through another building’s ramp, which eventually led to the little tree-shaped restaurant. The lights were lovely, and several tables were vacant. A handful of people were having dinner, and a petite waitress approached us, menu in hand. Reez and I hesitated for a moment, as she turned to me.

“I don’t see a poetry night going on here.” I nodded, and she turned around to ask the waitress.

“Ay, na-move ata. Hindi sila natuloy.” A pained look must’ve crossed both our faces, as she smiled at us sympathetically, and went to the front desk to consult a little piece of paper taped behind the counter.

“March 20 ho. Na-move nga. Ito ba yung sa Underground?” I looked at Reez quizzically. She was the one with all the details, more or less. Reez nodded.

“Wow, that sucks.” I checked my phone for time time. “So. What now?”

—

Five minutes later, we were standing by the roadside, waiting for a jeep to rescue us. A lone streetlamp curtained us in yellow light once more, and Reez begain to sing.

“I know your eyes in the morning sun! I feel you touch me in the pouring rain! And the moment that you wander far from meeee, I wanna feel you in my arms agaaaain….”

The Bee Gees. At this point, I joined in, a little amused.

“And you come to me on a summer breeeeze, keep me warm in your love and then softly leave, and its me you need to shooow..HOW DEEP IS YOUR LOVE!”

Sadly, there are few things more magical and smile-provoking than two friends singing at the side of the road, with no where to go in particular. We both sounded sub par, but it didn’t matter. At all.

I really need to learn
cause were living in a world of fools
Breaking us down
When they all should let us be
We belong to you and me

Nine-thirty in the evening landed us at the McDonald’s in Katipunan, amidst a gaggle of screaming, talking, laughing students whose Friday nights were probably just beginning. We had dinner, and in situations like these, the ice cream must always be eaten first. Reez made her way to the bathroom, and I reached for the plastic spoon, scooped a bit of the white and brown into my mouth.

We sat there, and, it wasn’t a conscious effort, but we made our own poetry night right then; out of notebooks and the backs of Haruki Murakami printouts, out of screaming schoolgirls and big-eared, bespectacled janitors. Out of the cars passing by, painting trails of light in the blackness. Reez’s lines are italicized.

9:30 pm in McDo when you’re bored.

The street is filled with cars in caution
Denizens, brisk walking, always in a flurry
The world is a hive-
But here I am, eating spaghetti
With my eyes glued to glass windows
With my ears plugged into the blues
And I think I’m in deeper than a submarine
So I type the hours away on my laptop of doom
Thinking that the guy with the mop is lonely
So I put on this smile and say, “I’m the hot friend.”

It was pretty simple. We’d observe, write down words. A fat girl was wearing this T-shirt that said “I’m the hot friend”, another girl wore a Yellow Submarine shirt. The janitor mopped the floor beside us, and beyond the glass walls, cars. Easy, no?

The next poem was kind of weird and sad and funny all at once.

“MEMORIES” 8D

I can’t believe you lost me on a train
So I sat on the roof and watched
The sky explode instead.
So I’m drawing on my shoes
The things I hated about you
While someone on TV cried about
How she got Hepa-A from isaw.
I napped on you and
Dreamt about Flo-Rida and
We rolled like lumpiang shanghai
Down the grassy slopes of
The sunken garden (in the afternoon)
You know I can’t dance
But I hope you teach me
How to boogie so fast that
We can reach Jupiter today.
Running after the balut man,
cause we’d be tired and hungry
And gift him with Hershey
Kisses divine. (for he is just awesome.)

–

“Your phone’s vibrating.”

I lifted my pen, just about to continue one of Reez’s paragraph for a joint story, this time. It was 10:45. Dad was calling.

“Dad?” I rose from our table and glanced outside. “Yeah. Okay, I’m coming.”

I gathered up my things, and gave Reez a hug. “Are you SURE you’ll be ok?” She smiled at me, “Yeaaaah, I’ll text you when they pick me up.” Her parents were somewhere along EDSA at the moment. “Alright. I’ll see you on Wednesday!” I walked towards the door and looked back at her. She waved a bit, I think. “Bye Hammie!”

Heh. Friday ended awesomely, and in the most unexpected way.

—

We like our fun and we never fight
You can’t dance and stay uptight
It’s a supernatural delight
Everybody was dancin’ in the moonlight

Kuya Ed, CAT-dissing, and the Lost Children of Anthro 10.

Fact of the day: Happy first anniversary, vladyparents! (maudrik) I can’t believe it’s already been one whole year. O_O

I walked in for math class this morning, and spotted *them*, and smiled and said good morning. Then Audrik followed me, walking backwards, so I smiled wider and said, confusedly, “Oh, and happy anniversary!” A weird look crossed daddy’s face. “Alam mo?” I nodded. “Alam mo? Pano mo alam?” I laughed. “Secret.” And then I waved and walked off to math. I was early! Celine was leaning against the doorframe, so I approached her from behind and grabbed her shoulders. “I’m early!” She freaked out slightly, of course. :3 Ma’am Paguio came the second later, so, according to Jovi, I wasn’t early. Fine. I was earlier than usual.

After a lesson on how good mathematicians are those who know how to guess the right numbers (a.k.a finding the roots of a polynomial through trial and error) we were dismissed early-ish, and headed down (but not before accompanying Jovi to buy a bluebook) to the Toki. Socsci3. A short conversation about “mr hamster” ensued with Karlos and Kira and Rev. And then I went to my seat. Warner was already there. Jackie came shortly after. No class! Ma’am Batangan had a meeting. Yesss. XD So after chatting a little about our lovely project (pr0n, ladies and gentlemen. pr0n.) Jackie and Warner and I went to FC, found Dom (who was trying to sell us raffle tickets.) and Jed, and hung out at Katag till 11:30. Erik passed by, and then we went to pick Jovi up at CAL.

And then we walked to our Anthro classroom. No one was there. Hmmm. Maybe it was a film showing, or something. Alright. We went to the SSP AVR. There were people inside. I opened the door, and found a bunch of people wearing long sleeved polos gathered around an LCD projector. Ergh. Wrong class. So we walked to the library. Wrong class again. =_= This is the price we pay for coming late. Gaaargh.

EDIT: Sir Castro was in Puerto Galera the whole time. =__= (Compliements to Paul the Tall Chinese Man.)

Anyway, after lunch, we took off for Pisay to interview Kuya Ed. Found Jackie and Garrick and Rayray in the teacher’s lounge. Garrick has a car with no gas. Garrick has no money to purchase gas. The world is cruel. :/

We went to the caf! Lots of things changed. The caf, of course, was pretty deserted. After they got food, we went to the front cause Rayray had to leave for her NatSci class. We passed the discipline office, and found Sir Talaue in it. I got my Bio notebook back!! Hahaha. Oh the 4th year over-ness. We talked for a bit, and then went up to Kuya Ed, since Jackie was calling. Jackie, Jovi, Erik, AJ and I crammed into Kuya Ed’s room and we began the interview on pr0n. But not without a lot of conversation before, after, and in between. ^__^ Kuya Ed rockxs forever. He noticed my hair, and said it was the same style during first year and early second year. Over two hundred students in our batch, and he remembers. We heard stories of our other batchmates, too. Kim, who passed by before. And Chino, whose prom picture with Nikki hangs on Kuya Ed’s wall. It’s funny that the first year children ask about us and our pictures.

I miss Pisay, but I guess visiting there today made it clear that nothing will let us relive high school as it was, exactly. Hahaha. But oh well. Twas fun going there anyway.

And oh. We watched 08’s CAT. Gah, these people (Jackie O_O hahaha) They diss the 08, but I seriously doubt 07 was that elite to begin with. But yeah, it was fun seeing them turn in circles and fidget when the officers weren’t looking. Reminds me of those horrid sunburn days with squat thrusts and standing listlessly in the field, waiting. Just waiting…

We went back to UP after that. Off to CW10 for me. Just reporting, basically. I talked to Reez the whole time (well, almost) and tried to make an ambigram of ‘Marella’. I did, eventually. It just looked like gibberish. That’s all. :p

Oh. I must get ready for bed now. Le Dad calls for us to sleep. Anyway. The last part of the day was absolutely fun fun fun.

No disguise will save you now

*listening to Cora May for the billionth time*

I took one class today, (Arch1), where Sir Nick gave us the day off because Gino pwned the Hiyas ng Arki gown design. Yay. Apparently, Bohn (Kuya Bohn, or Ate Bohn? Let’s just settle for La Suprema) likes us lowly apps better now. Hurrah! :3 After some banter with Lexeesh (who escaped to Katipunan without me. For lunch. But she was occupied, so it wouldn’t have worked anyway.) we the blockmates, ferried off to SC for some of that egg-spattered tapsilog at Rodic’s. Never gets old. (Oh, and today is pink day. And green day. ^^) And then, after dispersing a little, we had some fake FIC in a photocopier/computer shop (don’t you just love the multipurposeness of it all?). Mmm. Ice cream. That light brown flavor me and Reggie got was heavenly. I forgot what it was called. But it was gooood. :3

Fits of coughing here and there. I admit, maybe I shouldn’t have taken the ice cream. But I’m a sucker for sweet things. x3 Ooh, and yes. Here’s the fun part. Me, Jovi, Reggie and Elise were standing in the middle of the hallway, licking our heavenly bits of coldness, when I turned around and *woosh* went Jin Joson, with her long long hair and glasses and pretty socks. She wasn’t in cosplay mode, but no one can not NOT recognize her. I turned to Jovi, who grabbed my shoulders and shook me. Obviously in fanboy mode. “zomgwhatthehellit’s JIN!!! Jin!”

Er. After a few minutes of licking more ice cream, we decided to walk in her direction (on the pretense of looking for Carla, who was in one of the internet shops. She’d gone in the same direction anyway.) and she passed us again! It is rather entertaining to watch Jovi stop himself from being dumbfounded. :3

We went back to Arki after that, and I worked on my rough draft for Arch10. I wasn’t feeling too well, though, so I decided to go home and take a rest. (They didn’t do anything anyway, so, yeah. Hurrah.) Eandra lent me American Gods. Yessss. XD I’m prolly the only Gaiman fan who hasn’t read it yet. But no more! Heeheee. Other books in progress are Septimus Heap: Magyck by Angie Sage, and A Swiftly Tilting Planet by Madeline L’Engle. I miss being sick. It’s a cough and a fever, nothing new. Tomorrow I shall quest towards GCF, commuting is required, according to the parental units. I’ll manage. >:)

Friday is a busy day. I musn’t forget Therizo, either.  Inverloch ended. The end was…soo…NOT ENDWORTHY. o_o

In other news:

-Lola Pacing has arrived! I migrate to the brats’ room.

- Still have to write a couple of poems for CW10. Tundundun.

-And finish that comic for Kuya Ie.

-And my sigsheet.

-And my model for Arch10.

-And I guess I *should* return that horribly over over over due book…

o_o

Teh blogging ends here.

The home you make me bend and break

I am not what you created-

Dance Man

Directed by Adam Stein. This clip makes me smile no matter how many times I watch it. I wish there really was a dance man. ^_^

“I’m more than an architect.”- Sir Nick

I’m tired of my angst and oversensitivity. (And it wasn’t you, don’t worry. I moodswing-ed for a reason.) But enough.

During Sir Capili’s enthralling tirade about the sucky prevalent media fakery, I sat at my desk, head bent over a notebook, teeth clenched, scribbling notes on the lecture. (Yes, I was still reeling from my rather powerful moodswing.) The first rule of writing is honesty. You must be authentic, you should know what you’re writing about. Writers draw mostly from experience, from feelings and events that whirl around them. I guess that’s what makes writers more than writers; because readers see they’re people. That’s one of the things that attracts me to creative writing; expression. I know I’m pretty unremarkable in the real world; just another, ordinary student. But students are people, and architects are people, and pink extensions are also people.

There’s this prof we have; he teaches Arch 1. His intro to the class was peppered with offbeat humor and inspirational tidbits and tips on how to impress ladies with mini triangular scales. xD Sir Nicolo doesn’t go by his title, “Architect”. Because he isn’t just someone who churns out blueprints and writes out instructions and consults with clients. He’s a husband, a dad, a teacher, a cool Snape-like person who doesn’t really like engineers~

It’s the world’s need for labels that results to narrow thinking.

“Hottie.”

“Korean dude.”

“Blockmate.”

“Taga-Pisay.”

“Girlfriend ni ___.”

“Bakla.”

And I say, do away with labels. Because I know what it’s like to carry one. Perhaps we all do. Every label, whether good or bad, has its drawbacks. It reduces an individual to a single idea, when in truth, that person is so much more. >_> Yes, he is more than a loudmouth, and no, I don’t need to stand him. She isn’t just an obsessive runner with strong opinions. He isn’t just an effeminate weirdo who doesn’t like to socialize with boring people. And yes, you can label me based on my identifying with other people, but that’s not who I am. Sir Nick is more than an architect, Sir Capili is more than the associate dean of CAL. But hey, we can only see so much.