- Fighting Dreamers -

Busy schedule (but stupid enough to still waste time on the internet :D) :

November 6, 8:00 - 10 pm - Gera’s second Despedida Dinner @ Calda Pizza Hi-way M.C. Branch

• Right after work, within 2 hours I had to go home to change clothes and retrieve my forgotten wallet (and I live on THE HILLS!!! :D).
• Attendees: The despedidee (LOL) herself, 2 roommates, 2 former officemates, me & eggono.
• What was eaten: 2 monster-size pizza w/ water and royal cans
• Nota Bene: The despedidee used to be my classmate in the MPOSC program.

November 7, 6:00 - 10 pm - Buying gifts for my first inaanak (I’m so moved. *sniffs*)

• What I bought: Since I really had no idea to begin with, I shoved all the baby garments I could think of in the nook of my arms, including a cute, cute, cute knitted baby boots.
• What took me so long:
  • I was looking for colorful clothes but there was an influx of white colors and hardly anything to catch my eyes. I kept changing the upper garments - I was looking for ones that exuded the colors of the rainbow.
  • I was torn between picking a formal baby dress or a set of home (or rugged?) baby shirt and pants.
  • Spent almost an hour looking for the right gift wrapper. There wasn’t a decent baby-looking wrapper that exclaimed “happy christening,” “congratulations on your baptism,” or “for baby” at National Bookstore. So I went back to the Department store. It almost made my day to chance upon for-sale paper bags with baby caricatures on them. Then I was disappointed again because they were old stocks. When I finally found one (pink pop-ups), the mall was almost closing and I was sooo hungry my stomach was getting suicidal (No, I don’t have ulcer or hyper).
  • Ate 2 3 balls of takoyaki, a fluffy ham and egg bunwich, and some water melon slush. I was tempted to buy more but alarm bells started ringing in my pocket, whispering behind me in a white-clad, haloed gorgeous hunk: “You exceeded your budget, my dear. Pigging out was not part of the plan. Mind over unregulated hunger, please.” It took all of my strength not to slap him back and forth because I know I’d end up slapping thin air - or a passing person.
  • Rode a 21b route that was awfully bent on making a sardines out of the PUJ.
  • Got home around 10 pm. Yehey.

November 8, 9:00 - 1:00 pm - The Baptism Day

• Name of the baby: Jocelle Christine
• Why I love her so:
  • Aside from being my first inaanak (and I’ve just graduated last year), my uncle told me that she was explicitly named after me. This is the second time a little girl has been named after me, the Christine blabbering in this supposedly private blog. The first being my late bestfriend’s younger sister, Edsa Christine. It is too spiritual to be coincidental: yesterday was my bestfriend’s 10th death anniversary. I couldn’t visit her grave, but She definitely knows that since her departure, not once have I forgotten her. Today I really swallowed my Christian Anarchism and allowed myself to practice indulgence - after a long, long time - just to offer mass in honor of my bf.
  • Why my uncle named JC so, I couldn’t fathom. Rather than an upsurge of irrational vanity, I feel blessed and truly humbled. I feel as if I’m Mother Teresa or something (no profanity intended). Though I know I could be wayward at times, I’m surprised some good can still come out of me.
  • I love JC not just for being cute (100x) pwerabuyag, but also for finally being the real thing with whom I can exert my “godmother” frustrations. I have always been subconsciously and deliberately a godmother, scouring life roads - be it virtual or tangible - for errant Cinderellas of varying problems. In the end, I realized - what the heck! - these Cinderellas are too selfish to deserve a ball! Their problems keep persisting like broken pirated records and no matter how much they thank me or say I’m like a “walking diary” or a “bank where they can deposit their secrets,” they continue to regress. It’s tiring to listen to their love problems (which by the way have already been accounted for thousands of times by many tv shows, movies, books, articles and newspapers). So many of my words have gone to waste at their hands. I vow not to let that happen anymore. It’s not being selfish but - gosh - why can’t I be as miserable as any of you? Better to teach people how to fish by letting them solve their problems. An outpouring of solicited advice interpreted by one-track minds is tantamount to feeding the whole fish to a bunch of people who don’t even know what a fish looks like.
• After parading as the official photographer, reception was held @ Ecotech. The food was great and I ate to the brim. It was just a bit awkward to be the youngest godparent because I had to act like I was a grown-up myself. *grins* There was Mr. Yap, head of the registrar’s office and my uncle’s boss, then Maam Sally who is also from USC, and my uncle’s sister and her daughter. My dad was there too and I made friends with the sisters of my uncle’s wife. For the most part, I was enjoying myself. No sky was the limit. Yeee, I love being a photographer. It’s as if I have the power to freeze the best of moments.
• My grandparent duty (and hope to God I would fulfill): I won’t let JC grow up like any of those miserable, moping, sadomasochistic, and inward-looking kids of the 21st century. I’ll see to it she’ll be one of the happiest, most level-headed and most forward looking kids ever. With kids like that, there’d be a better future for this planet. That’s why I love babies. So much hope resides in their innocence.

November 9, tomorrow - Back to work.

Add-ons:

Since I’ve been blabbering about my JC and the cute babies, I’m adding up this cute and funny picture (my younger brother and I were really overcome with laughter when we saw this):

cute, cute, cute

and quite witty too. \m/

I’m also adding this because the bubbles resemble the chubby stone. The cuteness in “bubblewrap fantaisie” was just overshadowed by the brutality of the unknown hand.

P.S.

I’m hating the internet. It’s so devoid of privacy. Friendster won’t budge when I asked it to stop sending me alerts and stop letting people know what I was up to. Can’t someone enjoy selective socialism for once? Google, on one hand, is driving me nuts with the caches and all. I’ve already clicked “don’t let search engines find me” for the nth time and still I’m powerless against cached links.

Yes, this is estoppel. I shouldn’t complain over something I have already benefited from. Still, I have the right to rant. There’s no other quick method to jot down things. Manual writing sores my right hand badly by letting it bear the brunt of labor while my left hand remains idle (I just wish I had Da Vinci’s split-brain talent). Whereas if I use the computer, and blogs, I’ll be able to use my left as well as my right hand as typing deems I should. And yeah, I won’t have to lose what I write, and the memories in it, if ever the computer bugs down or the usb gets lost or the notebook falls somewhere out there.

Basta, basta. This is my life. It’s now or never (yuck Bon Jovi!).

I don’t think I’ll have this much free time next year.

but

Mnemosyne walks to inspire me.