Wujoovileeb?

"By all accounts we are damned, regardless. But I am hoping, maybe foolishly, that we will get some measure of credit for trying."
- Carlisle Cullen

Who would have thought that the answer to my quandary would come from a beautiful mythical doctor vampire? I have to admit. That was a bull's eye. I would give him 7 pints of my blood for that. He just has to text me and it's done.

One more answer I got from Twilight:

"As if he never existed."
-Bella

Is the answer to stupid quandary number 2. I have murdered him in my mind and I've cleaned up the evidence.

I still cannot believe that Twilight answered 2 of the "top 3 kaputahans"* that have happened to me so far.

*determined by Dr. Langit

I think that motherfather book found me at the right place, at the most opportune time (as Capt. Jack Sparrow would say).

I'm invincible now. I don't care anymore yet I am more wary. I've lost everything but my friends, my fats and my boat. I always come out angrier, hungrier.

Screw you still, 2010. Magsama kayo ng Universe. Malapit na ang katapusan n'yo.

Kinikilig Sincerely

Ang tagal ko nang hindi kinikilig sincerely.

Friday last week was an ordinary retarded addict rowing day.

When we were headed back to the docking area, the tide was higher. The Takeshi's Castle stepping stones were submerged in the black dagat ng bazoors water with styro bits on top.

There were a lot of other boats unloading at the same time--Fleet Marine, Rowers' Club and Drago. And then us. We couldn't park any closer to the stairs because we would scrape and screech on the temporarily-invisible stepping stones.

I was second man that day. So Cones stepped off and held the boat as we all unloaded. Chino was already at the top of the stairs. Oh hell. Thigh-deep blackness. Lord, please make the stones dodge my feet. Slowly but surely. Surely, I half-stepped on a sharp rock on my first step. Everybody else driftwood was wading around me.

Suddenly.

A bicep was standing to my right, arm outstreched saying: Hawak.

Stare at biceps. Panic for 0.7 seconds. I decided to grab his left shoulder. We wade together all the way to the steps (which was probably a good 3 meters). The biceps then helped me up the stairs.

Me: Thank you po.
Biceps: 'Wag nang "po."
Dying me: Sige po. Ay! Sigiii. *Ngiti abot Star City*

Flashback 30 minutes prior.

My boat was resting. Biceps' team passes us. He was driving seated. His abs were doing the steering. Heehee.

Flashforward to the parking lot huddle. Why have I never noticed this dude before? Oh right, we don't really get to see the faces of the other boats up close. But I could see his biceps from a mile away in the farting lot.

Should I find out what his name is? Too late the hero. I'm gone in 70 seconds. I guess it's all right. This way he'll never be an asshole in my memory. He'll always be the chivalrous biceps in my imagination.

We have about 5 more training days, Biceps.

T.A. and B.

I have never felt more alone and restless than in the past week.

When you are unemployed, single, young, agitated and you have disowned your biological mother, you feel like shite.

I've been calling people all day (with my new super unlimited mobile phone line!) but everybody seems to be busy doing their own stuff like having a life.

*tumbleweed, tumbleweed*

So I have been reminiscing about my life in Taiwan and how I miss my Taiwan crew. It's been a year and one month since I came back to this harsh reality that we will give the code "MNL."

*deep inhale, deeper exhale*

Then suddenly Alexis sends me an empty e-mail with the subject "BITCH". (Yes, in all caps.) It just came with this attachment:

This is the badass bracelet I gave him before we parted. I have one too. He's T.A. which stands for Torres, Alexis but mainly Tight Ass. I am his bitch so I am Bitch. And on a daily basis, I think I really am. So.

We haven't spoken in so long. Feels like 2 lifetimes actually. (The Taipei lifetime then the Abu Dhabi lifetime.) It's just amazing how he would send a signal (of faith) at this time when I feel like the loneliest piece of beautiful crap. 

Soon enough, Alexis. I have no idea what's up in Paris but you're in my thoughts every single retarded day.

Dad is Bruce Lee.

This is my biological dad. It's his birthday today. This is his only formal photo where he's actually smiling. He never smiles in pictures. As soon as he sees a camera pointing at him, his face turns deadpan.

Tito Marcy (as I sometimes call him) is half Chinese, half perfect diplomatic diction.  He's quite a strict but he's as calm as a tribal chieftain.

I am the son that Tito Marcy never had. He taught me lots of shit about cars, carpentry, plumbing, The Beatles, climbing trees, buko opening, wines, basketball and how to drive. Now I drive better than him. Hehe. We're still dreaming of owning an amphibious German battle tank.

My old man is very supportive of my assorted endeavors--from pep squad to dragon boat; Taiwan to Abu Dhabi. He always says, "Go!" because he says he wants me to grab all the opportunities that he never got when he was younger. And he says he doesn't have much material shiz to pass on to me so he worked his gall bladder off to send me to the best schools.  (Let's go UP! Wooooo!!!)

When I entered UP, he gave me his UP ID (his student number was 69-something) and his library card. I still have them.

It feels strange training with the boat almost everyday and hanging out with Bryan because he looks like my dad when my dad was in his twenties. It's like a time machine gift. 

I'm losing my (runaway)  train of thought. 

 

I love Dad. 

Today we die all over again.

Nothing.

I don't feel anything yet.

I'm feeling a bit powerless and a bit helpless.

But it's so quiet inside me, my burp is like a nuclear explosion.

Now what Trixie? Good job on the ambitious gamble. So many people believed in me and I let everyone down. Even the Taiwan Consul was rooting for me. They called the university to verify the worst.

For the very first time, Dr. Langit and I were on the phone and we had no words. He just woke up from a makeup nap after a 32-hour duty and I was in the toilet. No words.

I sorta felt this coming because I had a premonition of the CamSur race in September but I haven't had any premonitions of my supposed enrollment in Taiwan. I'd like to talk to the manager of premonitions.

I am allowing myself a few days of deadness. I just wanna lie and disappear. Like how Johnny Depp's character was swallowed by an inverted waterfall of blood on a bed in the original Nightmare on Elm Street. 

Watch it here.

Shall I bury myself in the sands of Abu Dhabi? Shall I try again next year? Shall I plant some agent orange in that university? Shall I call Ang Lee? Shall I eat a whole chocolate cake by myself?

I'm not gonna ask the Universe why because I know life is tougher for evil queen bitches.

At the end of the day when all my self-esteem has abandoned me, I take refuge in an awesome fact and I just have to smile a very evil, smug smile because I don't come from UST.

"There's gotta be more to life than this.

There's gotta be more to everything I thought exists."

-Payable On Death

Today we mourn for another.

Nothing has even unfolded yet and already I must bury another possibility. Because I am not one to steal, I wear my black dress yet again and bow my head in silence (and delayed onset muscle soreness). I say farewell to what could have possibly been.

- I could have dug deeper to discover that you're not the competitive uss (British for ass) that most people think you only are.

- We could say good morning to each other by the bay four times a week with a smile that says I'm real glad to see you even at this inhumane hour.

- We could wait for each other to finish showering so we could eat breakfast together like elephants fresh from a 7-month hunger strike while our wet clothes stew in Manila Bay water in the same plastic bag.

- I could bring you to work afterward and sincerely wish you a great white collar day.

- I could wait for the end of your 9 working hours with much anxiety.

- I could help you name ten artists.

- We could fly to any (Etihad) destination together.

- You could have met my uncle's Beetle collection.

- I could be a hundredfold happy for you when the men's boat finally gets medals. Heehee.

- I could have gone to church with you despite my paganism.

- We could have proven each other wrong.

But because things are the way they are and I would rather lock myself up in my room and sulk emo punk style than destroy stuff, I will try to stay out of your way before I get any happier.

Meanwhile, I'll try to be content rowing while looking up at you in front yelling at us and telling me my lifting arm is being retarded. Or listening to you from behind while you say, "Looking good UP!" (pretending I am UP.)

Wherever you may be, I'm sure the water is light as long as I follow your pace. 

Fare thee well, chong. See you tomorrow at the bay.

What Plan B?

When I filed my application to The National Taiwan University of Arts for a master's in Film last February I was still hung over from Abu Dhabi. In fact, I was thinking of extending my stay in AUH but then responsibilities were calling so MNL I must.

I already got the scholarship. No problem with that. All I am waiting for is the "Ready go!" from the university which will be sent out at the end of June. Most of the other universities have released their decisions this month. Mine is choking me every single day with suspense.

When I sent my application, I was already picturing my next two years (or so) in Taiwan--which I call home. I have not felt at home since I returned to Manila from Taiwan last year until, until the UP Dragon Boat Team came splashing to rescue me.

Then I heard that the quota for foreign students in NTUA is quite low since it's a State U and of course, it prioritizes Taiwanese citizens. State U's, they always play hard to get.

Now that we're a solid month away from judgment day, people ask me what my plan B is in case of tragedy. Come to think of it, I didn't prepare a Plan B. I never do. I think what I'll do in case shit happens is that I'll tulala for two weeks (all the time rowing on my boat) and then panic when I regain consciousness .

A part of me is saying, "Holy kraft Trixie. I will pass. I have to. There's no other way. If I don't I will die. Of course I'll be reborn again but it will be a long deep death. I cannot last another summer here."

But then another part of me is whispering, "It's gonna be okay. Inhale, exclaim. If I pass, then wow, cool let's start packing. If not, another parusa summer is coming up and I'll have to put up with mom's nagging but we will be on a beautiful awesome boat."

"So many reasons why I have to go but want to stay here."

- Rivers Cuomo

Universe, thank you for the gift of panic and chaos. 

Par Amour

I didn't like Paramore before. I guess because I have an 11-year old Japanese girl student who is a total fan girl of theirs.

Then some shite hit the fan. And then Dr. Langit prescribed "That's What You Get" to me.

Hwow. They have a point.

So I gave a chance to their other songs. Turn It Off has been on loop mode since the day I first listened to it and now I Caught Myself (from the Twilight Soundtrack, not the album version. I knooow. Spell cheese but the version from the OST is better. Mas malalim ang tagos sa kaluluwa).

Apparently, the band's name, Paramore is a derivative of the word paramour which, according to the Oxford American Dictionaries (yes, I consulted a series of) is a noun meaning a lover, esp. the illicit partner of a married person.

Excuse me. Are you trying to hurt me in some way?

Furthermore, paramour is from the Old French par amour "by love."

Some synonyms include lover, significant other, (Wait. It gets harsher.) inamorata, mistress, kept woman, other woman, concubine.

Just to show you how ugly Paramore songs strike me in the face, let me share some hardcore lines:

I wonder how am I supposed to feel when you're not here
'Cause I've burned every bridge I ever built when you were here.
I still try holding on to silly things
I never learn.

That's what you get when you let your heart win.
Whoa-aaa. *Extend "whoa" for as long as necessary.*
I drowned out all my sense with the sound of its beating.

You got it, you got it. Some kind of magic.
Hypnotic, hypnotic.
You're leaving me breathless.
I hate this. I hate this.
You're not the one I believe in.

I don't know what I want but I know it's not you.
I know in my heart it's not you.

And the worst part is before it gets any better we're heading for a cliff.
And in the free fall I will realize I'm better off when I hit the bottom.

...So wrong the way we're working towards a goal that's nonexistent
It's not existent.
But we just keep believing.

Ouch if ouch, writhe? I cannot believe some girl as cool as Miss Paramore was someone's paramour and not THE number 1.

Oh well, Veronica's and my theory about "quiet" and "preserved" (Yes, preserved. Like mango chutney.) girls still stands. 

Maybe some girls are just quiet not because they're mysterious but because they have nothing interesting to say.

 The girls who vomit words

Look What We've Done

I think I deserve to roll some credits but my thoughts come in fragments at times like this. Here we go.

Dr. Langit, thank you for loading me on this awesome boat which is a dragon.

Nekuh, for being my landlady, fellow intellectual vomitter and overall partner in crime without dim headlights. 

 

Joy Bernadette Aquino (Congratulations laude) and Klarina Honasan (Happy birthday still!), maraming salamat. 

The Katipunan Crew: Manox, Klar, Diet, Bry (who looks like my dad when he was 20 and fit), Gene, Isa, Roy, Nekuh. Sulit ang magsasaka call time.

Coach Beck, Papi and the meek, petite and not to mention soft-spoken Yves for helping/forcing me to improve. 

The ladies' boat: :D

The men's boat, we share this with you. Really. We're one big boat k.

UP Dragon Boat Team, thanks for coming into my life right on cue. (Parang si Mr. Right lang ano.)

Goddess, I still can't believe we rocked the 500-meter category but not the 300 meters which we always train for. Are we monsters or just retarded?

Thanks to our oars. Because paddling with just hands is...stupid.

Thank you Cha for the last photo on this post.

This must be real. This thing is quite a treasure chest on my neck. Heehee. I share this piece of alloy with a couple of friends--one is a lifeguard in Californication. The other one a falcon in Abu Dhabi. 

Thank you Dragon Boat gods for keeping us from capsizing, sinking and bullying other boats. 

Thanks Pops for driving me to Katips at such no-mercy hours.

The adopted one for lending me her toy car.

My boys Papi and Kelly Beans for never judging me when I come home stinking Manila Bay.

Sige mom, ikaw na rin. Thanks for sewing me an emergency oar bag (even if you judge me all the time). 

 I love you, this boat.

Hwow may energy pa ako. Lez type some more words!

The 500m race is...death in 500 meters. I think our winning time was 2:30:something milliseconds. I find myself crying, screaming, rigor mortis but still rowing at the 350m mark every time. For that, the Bora water is full of my angst, tears and uhog. Anyone who dares dip will get diarrhea.

Ang saya sumayaw like crazy in a free size dress. Yehehehesss. (Pabayaan mo na ko. Isa itong kagimbal-gimbal.)

I think this is the ultimate antidote and tandang pananda to the shiz I went through early this year. If not for this certain person, I wouldn't have seizured, rowed for the life of my boat, found new family and snagged a medal in the process. Sometimes thriving on anger can be quite cool beans. And I bounced back beautifully with an oar. Kasalanan mo 'to. Salamat. 

You may go now. 

Jaywalking Thoughts

We're ready.

Another "Whot" Conversation With My Shrink

Ang sakit ng pwet ko. Ngayon lang sila sumakit ng ganito.

After dragon boat training this morning, Dr. Millhouse and I went for breakfast together. (Of course, we showered first. You don't want the Manila Bay water seeping into your pores.) We were talking about a teammate who won't be joining us in the upcoming international dragon boat race at Bora because it's his significant other's graduation. The conversation went something like this:

Me: I can't believe it. Would you skip the race to attend your girl's graduation?
Dr. M: Yes, I would.
Me, the selfish one: Whot?! Why? They're young. What if you miss the race, your team wins and then in the end it won't be you and her?
Dr. M, resident philosopher: Well, there is no past or future. You only have the now. So I will go to her grad.
Me, evil as ever: What the. You would rather be at her grad?
Dr. M: I wouldn't RATHER be at her grad. I WOULD BE there. There will be other races. But a graduation comes only once. (Unless it's a graduation from some dance class whatever shiz.)
Me: Hwow. I wouldn't do that.
Dr. M: IF you had a significant other, you probably would. What if *bleep*'s graduation from *bleep* school came up on a race day? I'm sure you'd be at his graduation too.
Me: No, I won't. We're not together.
Dr. M: E 'yun na 'yung pinakamalapit na na-a-approximate ko e! Fine. Let's say it's Brandon's graduation from the University of Art Shiz?

Me: Dude, that's Brandon. He's a god. Everyone is at a god's graduation.

Dr. M: *God-why-do-I-put-up-with-this-bitch look*
Me: Well, even if *bleep* and I were together, I would still probably race.
Dr. M: 'Yung logic mo nasa kuko ano?

Baka nga. Or maybe my logic is a gift from Snow White's wickedly beautiful wicked stepmother.

.

Hey, I'm feeling tired.
My time, is gone today.
You flirt with suicide.
Sometimes, that's ok.

-Korn

Bawal tanga bukas.

Tomorrow's my first race.

Tug-dugs. Tug-dugs. Tug-dugs says my heart.

Rage Against the Machine and At the Drive-in on loop mode. Bawal iba.

*Inhale, exclaim* 

Goddess, nawa'y hindi ako maging pabigat sa bangka.

I offer this race in memory of the most evil person I have met in my whole existence. 

I hate him so much it turned me to beef but if it weren't for him, no dragon would have needed to rescue me. Ayan. Gumanda tuloy ako further. Kuma-karne pa lalo. 

Tomorrow will also be for Team Canada, Team Austria, Team France, Team Germany, Team USA who all make up Team Taiwan. I realized that no matter how hard and how fast I row, Manila Bay is a long ways from where you all are. 

I'm praying for a successful knee surgery for you Benney Bear. My thoughts will be with you after the race ('cause I need to focus first) and until you get to the recovery room. Have faith in Taiwanese surgeons with laser visions.

Weeeheee. State U! Lezger!

Enter The Dragon

That was a lame way to title it but I couldn't help it. Bruce Lee is my father.

Breaking news: I joined the UP Dragon Boat Team two weeks ago. Today was my third training day. And. Wait for it...

I got drafted for a race next weekend! Wooohooo! How about a neophyte stepping up like tomorrow never comes? Wooohooo. 

I'm so excited. I feel that I will die in the race but I'm ready for that. I'm always ready to face that black-hooded, sickle-wielding bitch.

This started out as another form of sublimation. (Yes, sublimation has been the word since I returned from AUH.) We have only one person to blame for this. But I don't blame him anymore. Actually, now that I think about it, I thank him. I have been extra profound and prolific since...well, since him. All the absence and the silence and his I-don't-give-a-rat's-butt-cheek attitude towards me have forced me to whazzaaa at the world nine-fold than usual. (Doesn't that scare you? Scares my shrink. Hi Doc! You enjoying this post so far?)

I scraped my thigh "on the motherfuckin' boat!" (The Lonely Island, 2009.) And first blood has been drawn. Now I'm in it for the long polluted haul.

The water in Manila Bay is nastier than your enemy's face. Been awake since 0300. Drove 300km to Subic and back with Nekuh after training. It's now 2311 and I'm still high and dry! There's a certain kinda high I get when rowing for my team's life. It's on the same plane as the high I get when I pep. You're dying but you love it. Like a drags. Yeaaah. 

Every time I row and I feel my supreme powers spilling to the black water and running out, I imagine the faces of all those who wronged me floating in the water. Then HWABOOSH! I slam them with my paddle. 

I have found new powers and my ohm mani padme hum. How about you?

Or Something Better

I feel like I have to write. Something. I'm not sure what about or to whom. 

So I guess this will be another one long brain vomit.

Where in the world is the Lino Cayetano?

Guys, you need to take me to ze beach.

This feels like 8 years ago:

This, feels like 2 years ago:

Sublimating is so hard kids. Don't attempt to copy me.

Yes I am quite a chef and I have proven that the way to a man's heart is NOT through his stomach because if it indeed was, then 3 gazillion men should be at my feet by now. But noooo. 

Anyway.

Now I leave you with a beauteous quote form the beauteous J. Casablancas:

"Let him go.

He gave up.

I gave up."

6. I can slay the jabberwocky!

"I'll miss you when I wake up."

- Alice

"You won't remember me."

- The Mad Hatter  
  

Synchronized Musings

Tuesday. I spent the day running around UP (not in the acad oval but) fixing my papersss for my Taiwan Uni application.

So many lightbulbs went on.

Lightbulb moment #1:  UP will always be home.

It's been 3 years since I graduated and I have been seeing the world since. Yet I still come back for the football games, the UP Pep Squad endeavors, film, to run around the carless ovaltine, eat isaw, a lot of shiz. People there are cool. Konti lang tanga. Kung may tanga man, usually 'yung nakakaaliw na tanga. Hindi 'yung nakakabwiset na tanga.

Lightbulb moment #2: I'm okay driving alone.

When I was in university, I would drive to school everyday. It was fun. It's always one long sound trip while I worked on my spatial skills and physics theories. I was a Toki driver. Oftentimes LA would ride home from pep training with me. That was fun too. We stop to eat on the way home. Or we just bleed from our hands. Sometimes, like last week, I get sick of driving alone. Like after parties, everyone would drive somebody else home. But me? I always drive just me. I even drive myself to the airport damnit. Maybe it would be nice to be on the passenger seat sometimes. But then I guess my would-be passenger would find it too...noisy. Unless he's Julian Casablancas. But I tell myself that this is proof that I'm not the damsel-in-distress who's useless and dependent. Hehe. I'm a very badass driver, FYI.

Hobbes, the best boyfriend ever.

Lightbulb moment #3: I think I would be capable of taking my own life eventually. 
I have yet to devise 3 ways of ending my days without getting maimed and/or unrecognizable. Until then,

"I've got nothing to say
I've got nothing to give
Got no reason to live
But I will fight to survive."

- J. Casablancas

B Loves B

On the 15th of Feb, thirty four years back the ultimate wow (I have no words for him) human being landed on Planet Earth.

Happy birthday Brandon Charles Boyd! Thank you for keeping me alive and awake. I realized that you're the only constant thing in my life. People keep on coming and going but you and I--we always rendezvous in outer space.

 

Brandon Love!

I'm back with chocolates from Brussels.

Back in Manila. Feels so strange. It's so warm here. 

When I visit a new country I like to stay for more than two weeks. I feel that one week isn't enough to get a vibe of a certain place. But every time I stay for at least a month somewhere, I have a hard time leaving it. Shite. Zenmeban? 

My dog got fatter while I was away.

Brandon wrote me again today after 6 long months. 

I'm dizzy from too much G force but my mind just won't decelerate. 

I'm proud to say that Abu Dubai was bwahaha seized and throttled. 

I'm so glad to have the friends that I have in Abu Dhabi. Soooo very deliriously glad. 

In irrelevant news, I'm quite proud of how I handled the situation. Very diplomatic, logical and graceful. I hope I can stick to the plan. Leave me alone. I might start loving thee and poor me if that should be.