A schoolgirl's notebook in the 21st century

“Sige… Pasig… Sige pa…”

The painted words tower above me as we pass the footbridge. I crack a smile. Every time I see this particular architecture, I think of which politician thought of painting that and why. I’m sure it was made to uplift the spirits of the people of Pasig, and honestly, it worked on this Mandaluyong inhabitant so it should work on them as well. The ironic thing is, my friend’s grandfather is the Mayor of Pasig. I’ve been meaning to ask her who painted or thought of that slogan, but I haven’t got the chance to, yet.

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(Written on Sept 7.)

“Singson denied being part of any assault. But he clearly stated before that ‘good thing that’s the only thing I did to her. He’s saying it was his bodyguards and not him.”

A laugh. “How is that possible? He didn’t know? Now he’s backing out.”

“Yeah, because there’s press now.”

“He’s a bad guy.”

“He really is.”

“He beat up his wife. Or mistress. And the other guy, too.”

“This is the, what, 3rd time already?”

“Chavit Singson was also responsible for getting Erap in trouble.”

Another laugh. “Yeah, I bet Erap is now persecuting him the most. He’s pushing him.”

“It’s like that Greek saying about the worm. Chavit persecuted Erap, and now it’s the other way around.”

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(Written on Sept 5)

Strike Zone. Noun: Term used in Softball/Baseball – The area of your body (from around your shoulders to your knees) where, when batting, if the ball passes that, it’s called a ‘strike’ and you need to swing your bat. Noun: The name of a radio show of Magic 89.9 that airs from 10 PM to 2 AM.

Both of these definitions are significant in my life, but for now, I’m going to focus on the latter.  Read the rest of this entry »

At first glance, anyone could say she’s attractive. That’s plain to see.

She’s in a green jacket with yellow stripes running down the sleeves. She’s wearing a short jean skirt and her legs seem as smooth as a baby’s bottom. She crosses and uncrosses them as she talks to her companion – an elderly man who listens to her intently. His hair is a balding shade of salt and pepper gray and it reflects in the ambient light of the restaurant. Her hair glistens in the light as well – long, flowing hair that follows her every move. It is well kept and straight, with bangs brushed to the side.

They soon leave the restaurant, probably to go back home. She opens the door to a very organized room – her things are as well kept as she keeps herself. The size is just right. Just for her. The walls are painted in a light pastel color – probably a color that she picked out herself. Then had someone else paint it for her. The glow of her high tech laptop is what keeps her awake at night as she sits on her four post bed with it. The prints on her bedsheets are probably very simple – lines, polka dots and checkers. Sometimes she snuggles in them as she turns on the flat screen tv and watches her favorite shows – the top two being Gossip Girl or the Ellen Degeneres Show. On the rare occasions that she actually does sleep, she hugs an oversized stuffed toy and dreams of things that only she knows of. Finally, when it’s morning, she stretches her slender body and jumps out of bed. She looks at herself in the full length mirror on the wall to make sure everything is in order. And she’s off to start her day again.

I tap my foot against the white sterile floor. ‘Crap,’ I think to myself, ‘I’m gonna be late.’ More and more students come beeping through the turnstiles and elevator lines just keep getting longer and longer. I spot a friend.

“Tsong!” he turns  and smiles, acknowlegding me from a distance.

As he walks towards me, he says, “Late na tayo.” like it’s a form of greeting or some sort. He takes a place behind me in the line. I nod at his statement and glance at the bright red digits on the wall clock ahead of us. 2:48. Our class started three minutes ago.

I shrug and gesture to the elevator lines helplessly. “Lintik na elevators, eh.”

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Date (when I wrote this): June 8, 2009 (feels like: June 7)
Time: (finished at) 1:50 AM
Mood: Busy chatting with everyone (scatterbrained, I suppose)
Weather: Not raining (surprise, surprise)

A Day in the Life Of…

A lovestruck smile envelopes me and I feel all warm and tingly. Or that could be Heart telling me she feels warm and tingly. I’m not quite sure. Brain, on the other hand, is working a mile a minute to try and catch up with everyone and everything. We just kissed a Girl. Our first kiss.

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