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