Hangover

I can still hear the vuvuzelas ringing in my ear. That low-pitched drone that doesn't seem to end, even if I had turned off the TV. The Lukas Podolski song is constantly playing in mind; so I try to counter it with the Jogi Loew song. Atleast Jogi's has a melody that a granny could listen to while Poldi's song has an aggressive ryhthm that just compounds the headache I have since the semi-finals. The last time I watched the poldi song in youtube was two days ago but its still the first thing I hear when I wake up. Watching TV now is painful, since I find all the other programs that doesn't feature 22 guys kicking the ball back and forth boring. During the last week, I watched CNN to get world cup news as well other cable news channels including the ones in languages I don't understand. I think I had read every countless blog entries about the world cup and I could not seem to stop myself from googling those players and gawked at their pictures. (I dare you to look at pictures of Jesus Naves and not stop breathing.) I am now fond of Germany, everything Germany.(This World Cup made me realize I know so little about other countries.I'm reading some Germany and Netherlands info and their social and economic situation made me die of envy.)A month ago the only Germans I know was Hitler and Heidi Klum and it was such a delight to see that modern Germans are more like Heidi than Hitler. I just love the German fans. They are so creative and passionate. They just seems so happy; I want to be like them. This is what I love about this game, you get to see real, raw emotions.

What am I going to do with myself? I am finding my self waking up at 2:30 in the morning?

The Beautiful Game

It must have been 1996 or 1997, my Kuya and I are staying up late (when 10pm was still considered late)watching Manchester United vs. Juventus. Our bet: 1.5L bottle of coke. I picked Manchester, he picked Juventus. I don't remember the score but I remember winning. That was my first football game; David Beckham still wasn't the global superstar that he was, he probably haven't met Posh. So, everytime we can afford to stay up late and there is a game on, we watched and took bets, until I got tired of losing. Picking the team with the better uniform isn't always the best way to go.

Fast forward to this year's world cup, I found football again. Thank God for cable and for those rich kids' schools which promote soccer, for the first time all world cup games are televised here. You know how good these games are? My mom willingly missed her telenovelas to watch the games. My mom doesn't watch sports, not even Manny Pacquiao's bouts, but there she was totally engrossed and thrilled with everything on the screen. I did not even have to explain the game because its objective is pretty obvious. So for the first time in a long while, we are watching something that we all enjoy. It had been known how much this game brings different people together.

That is one thing great about football, the rules are simple so it is easy to get and its simplicity makes it so attractive to the whole world. And watching the world watch football just fills me with good vibes. Seeing so many people with different ethnicity dancing, singing blowing the vuvuzuela and doing the wave just make so happy. The stadiums are like big melting pot and everyone is having a good time. Even when the game is getting tense and hearts and dreams are broken after the final minute, it's still good because a beautiful game was seen by all.

Speaking about heartbreaks,wow, I never thought I would feel so much for a team that I'm only watching for the first time. Watching Japan lose to Paraguay was so disappointing, I felt like crying. Maybe because they are the last asian team in the tournament and that I feel like they just can't catch a break,plus there are like two yellow cards I don't agree with the referee. Paraguay also did not play that well to deserve to win the game. With this loss, I also realized that none of the teams I picked to win had won. (Good thing there are no bets.)But with this Japan team, I really wanted them to win; the others were just for fun. I guess not having your country in the world cup has an advantage, you can switch allegiance any time.

That's what I did during during the England-Germany. I cheered for England but the Germans were so impressive and cute! I think they are the cutest team in this world cup because they matched their good looks with fantastic game. Spain is gorgeous too but I like the youthful charm of this German team.

I'm watching the semi-final match of of Spain and Germany and it doesn't look good for the Germans. I'll be so bummed if they lose and it seems like they will. They don't have the same energy they had on their previous games. Nevertheless, what is good about this team is they have so much promise for 2014. I'm so looking forward to that.

The Truth, this Time.

It certainly helps whenever I write about things; I always get a clearer insight from them.They used to ask us what does writing means to us, my friend said he will die without it; I answered, I will go insane if I stopped writing. Besides, writing is a whole cheaper than therapy, more so in our culture where depression is not tolerated. Is it because we are just so happy as a nation, we cannot accept being otherwise?


Anyway, back to my truth.My parents, 2006 and my books, though they have influence my disposition and where I am today, are not to be blamed. The truth is, I had to be where I had to be. My mistake is I let the situation entrapped me and it had been a struggle to escape. Throw in self-doubt and insecurity, I suddenly found myself in a hell hole I unconsciously made.I became afraid; if my relatively sheltered world had been so harsh, what more the real world?

I'm Done Blaming my Parents or 2006, so I'm Blaming the Books I've Read when I was Young Instead

Man, this whole fixing my life thing is hard.

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I have been doing a lot of reflecting lately, setting my life against those things I read and watch, It can be very depressing but I am so over crying so I'm just gonna write it down and digest it more. Of all the things I have watched, the opening sequence of Emir struck me the most; it presented the desperation of this country in a lively song and dance number. It was so sad but their spirit was so proud and strong, it makes me feel so little. Me, who had been so much luckier than most of my countrymen in a way that I don't have to work abroad for my family to live, had been living my life as if I am in early 19th century England instead of a third world country who had been struggling forever from poverty. I had been reading too many Austen. Yet by those kind of novel's standards, I have not even started living yet. I have not been away from a guardian's protection nor seriously entertained suitors for marriage, therefore have not started "life" yet. Should I take comfort from the study that adulthood no longer begins at 21? That more and more people from 20s to 30s are taking a longer time to finish school or get steady on their careers? This is ofcourse a study done in the U.S., it does not feel right to think that way here, it just sounds too bourgeois for the land of the masses. Taking a longer time to be an adult..pfft. Life does not wait for anyone, why would I be an exception?

There is just something in Adulthood that scares me big time! Even before, I was afraid of puberty. This might be too much information but I willed my boobs not to grow, clearly I regretted doing that. But then again during highschool, I were not that interested in looks because instead of reading magazines like my friends I was reading these books that while they praise beauty, they do not think it is as important as wit and good character. It turns out, as I found out when I liked a boy, wit and good character makes you their friend, boobs on the other hand make you belong to their opposite sex, therefore an object of their desire. Then again I were already in college by that time, exposed to so many liberal ideas that I refuse to be enslaved by such an outdated chauvinistic notion. It was also during that time that Dove lunched its true beauty campaign and I happen to love my body as it is. My boobs eventually reached a satisfactory size.


Another thing, I was also afraid of going to college. Not nervous, afraid. My excitement over finally cheering for a UAAP school that I officially belong to cannot lessen it. I still remember what UST AB Building looked to me on that first day, it looked like a metal monster, its gate a mouth with fangs waiting to swallow me. The grills are made of diamond shapes, which could also be seen as a triangle and fangs are shaped like triangles. What am I an eight year old boy, imagining metal monsters? Then ofcourse, I had a blast in college! Stupid fears.


Still, I feared undergoing OJT. I hated those Makati buildings, the epitome of capitalism in this country. Heartless, money-suckers. Suit-wearing asses under this tropical sun where a minimun-wage earning construction worker is working on a building where soon enough, somebody with an english twang is taking the complaints from a very irate customer living on the other side of the planet. Then I fell in love with advertising and how much influence they have over our lives, with elevators that are so spacey and goes so high, with jollyjeeps, with the underpass and sidewalks of Ayala.


At first I thought I was afraid of changes but no, I have done changes that have nothing to do with growing up and I have no problem with them. We had moved houses, changed hairstyles or whatnot, I'm ok with it. But I have a problem in changing the stage of life where I am in. I have heard of the Peter Pan syndrome, of people who did not want to grow up but then again, I don't want to be a kid forever and just play around. I want to be an adult but I don't know how and as I have noticed, I don't like doing things I don't know how. If I am going to do something new, I research about it and if possible watch a demonstration so I get an idea how it is done. Adulthood does not come with an instruction manual and the demonstrations I have seen, well they suck at it. However, there is something that I have put to heart the instructions of, and it is about not being an adult, a book titled "The Little Prince."


I first read it when I was about 8 or 9 in Filipino so I understood everything it said, perhaps not all of what it means to say but I got the main point. I reread the english version countless of times, even did a paper during college. I no longer know where both of the books are, but I still know its lessons. Adult people sucks, they cannot be trusted. They are so consumed by money, their job, their power; they forget what is important. I got that impression very young and it stayed with me. The Little Prince has a lot more wisdom concerning love,life and relationship that I discovered when I read it later but the whole adulthood sucks idea had been imprinted in my mind while it was just developing that I did not know that it was just an idea, I simply assumed it was a fact and so I hated the thought that I would be an adult someday and would eventually suck in life and forget everything that is important.


It just dawned on me, my mom, who is the closest adult person to me, is totally unlike all the grown-ups in the Little Prince. Why didn't I looked at her instead of those awful characters. She was even the one who gave me the book. (But I guess, we don't really see our mother as a person, but just as a mother.) So what now, The Little Prince screwed me up, what to do? Should I read it again, maybe now the adult people would not be so horrible because now I can deconstruct them and understand why they were that way? Should I really accept that a children's book, though very philosophical is the cause of all my restlessness? Am I no better than Catherine Morland who blurred reality from fiction? And if I answer all of these, would I finally have the courage to send out my resume, have a job, move myself from parental security and start my life? If I don't do anything, my life would turn out like a late 18th century English novel, I would enjoy reading it but not living it. Because seriously, would I wait for a hero to make my life better? I don't think so .

On 40 degrees celsius room temperature, Rizal, Drama and our magic realist nation

or how my summer went.
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A big family drama started my summer that made me decide to go on self-exile. I needed space, lots of space and air to breathe. But my self-exile instead of being a statement of defiance had become a self-punishment because the room I am staying in is a brick oven. 38 degrees is alarming but acceptable, after all we are having El Nino, but 40 degrees? It's a wonder I didn't evaporate or had a heat stroke. During my exile, I had planned to exercise more, write more and fix my life. Instead I were sweating like I had never sweat before, not even when I'm climbing mountains, my brain had been turned into mush by the heat that even if I am already holding a pen against a paper, I still cannot write a word and self-pity, doubt and disillusion left me wondering, what life exactly am I trying to fix. I just feel so lost, maybe I really did evaporate.

****************
I only had one read for this summer, even if I have books waiting in line. It was too hot write, so it is also too hot to read. But I just cannot ignore this treasure of a book about Jose Rizal written by Nick Joaquin. It was so juicy that I learned so much about Rizal more than I did when I took up Rizal course in college and it was wonderfully written in Nick Joaquin's style that oozes with romance and patriotism.

Did you know Laguna de Bay is not a bay like Manila Bay but is named after the town of Bay(ba-e)? I know it is a lake, hence Laguna lake but had always been confused why it is also a called a bay since it is clearly not a bay, but I never bothered to find that out. That had confused me since I studied types of bodies of water in grade school.

Back to Rizal, we have a geek for a national hero. Hooray geeks! Like all geeks, there was a time when Rizal had been so insecure. He was so short, especially since his point of reference is his big brother Paciano. (Paciano is tall, good-looking, smart, a bit taciturn but let's use the term mysterious. Those are the exact adjectives that describes my friend's idea of a perfect guy.) Paciano is ten years older than Rizal, so in Rizal's point of view Paciano had been looming over him all his life. But Rizal idolized Paciano, so even when he become this big shot who has a college degree, a doctor, wrote two great novels and Paciano is just a haciendero who got stuck in Laguna, Rizal still heeded Paciano's advice and instructions; Paciano is still Kuya and what Kuya said, is what we would do. That is another thing I love about this book, it gave us a glimpse on Rizal's family. It explained why they have four surnames, their social status, their daily life. The children made their own toys, so early on Rizal's inventiveness and creativity is on full display, he had a puppet theater! Rizal taught himself to read at age two, he sculpts a lot, they all had ponies, then horses when they were big enough. Their dining table is always full of food. Everyone eat at the same time, after all they weren't in a restaurant where they can eat anytime they want. The parents are called Nanay and Tatay, Tagalog is the language they used. After dinner is story-telling time, Tatay tells about history and foreign heroes, sometimes the yaya gets the spotlight and tell stories about ghost and nocturnal creatures. What is endearing is that after a hundred years, except perhaps of the kids making their own toys(hey, sometimes this is still true)and the ponies, the Rizal family is still a lot like the modern Filipino Family. Television might have replaced story-telling but it still occurs during blackouts, and the yayas are still good sources for horror stories.

Rizal had many women, it seemed like he had a girlfriend from every country he had been to, which basically means he had girlfriends across the world, all the while having a fiance back home. But the one girl I want to focus on is Segunda Katigbak. She was 14, he was 20 but it was she who made the first move, second, third, the fourth and so on. She was so feisty, she always leave Rizal babbling for words and blushing. I bow down to this girl. But then because of Rizal's timidity, bordering on stupidity, she choose a more fervent suitor to marry, ultimately breaking Rizal's heart. I just have to repeat this, she was 14!

It is also scary at the same time amazing Rizal's knowledge about his destiny. Even as a kid, he knows he would die young and that they would erect statues of him, even though the statements he made are just mere retorts to his sisters' teasing; it is baffling how true it turned out to be. He had a lot of chance to opt out from his doomed destiny, he could have stayed in Hongkong or in Dapitan or proceed to Cuba as he had planned; heck, he could have not gone to Spain at all, stay here and become a haciendero like his father and marry his Leonor. But no, even if he is hesitant, even if he dreads the idea that his death would be such a big deal to his country he still answered the call of greatness. For someone who had been so insecure and did anything to excel to compensate for his shortcomings, he had become afraid of how great he had been; still he shrug fear off and accepted his fate.

I love the fact that our national hero is not some great army general like most heroes are. I know that the Americans choose Rizal for us over Bonifacio, so that we would look up to someone who does not yield a deadly weapon but a pen, but Rizal also embodies everything that we hold dear. He was a small guy who did great things. More than that, Rizal achieved the Filipino Dream; he he saw the world and came home triumphant. Also, the wisdom he imparted from his writings are still applicable until today. He is both world-class and timeless.

More fun facts I learned from the book: Rizal is short right? but Marcelo H. Del Pilar is shorter. There were two Leonors, both were engaged to Rizal at the same time. Rizal, even after renouncing the church, continued to attend mass everyday. He seem to like prostitutes. And the one thing that blew me away: Mariano Ponce is a doppelganger of the guy I've been crushing on for four years.

****************************************


This summer was not only extra hot because of El Nino but also because of the election fever that is sweeping this nation. After all, this is the first automated election and the one that would free us from nine years of hell, so naturally everyone is in his/her own state of excitement, confusion and cynicism. And on May 10, my lovely crazy country voted for Noynoy Aquino to be our president. Beyond all the high-tech graphics of the news coverage (abs totally kicked gma's ass on that account), it was just so amazing that the results were known after 24 hours or so and because of that we have seen something we had never seen before: politicians conceding!!! That was a miracle, especially in this country where no one lose an election because they were always cheated. Everyone was jubilant, for after nine years we once again have a president that the people elected, and if he screw up we only have ourselves to blame. But of course not everyone got the memo that it is now fashionable to concede so they were some who still cried foul and that gave birth to Koala Bear. Losers from left and right follow suit, taking advantage of the unfamiliarity of automation, the idea of a successful clean election, and the comelec as the good guys. I did not mind this at first until I passed by one newspaper stand and the name Koala Bear is hugging the headlines. That was the most absurd thing in the world. It just sounds so silly that we were all caught up by someone named Koala Bear. The name he gave was Robin, Rep. Locsin named him Koala bear because of his stupid mask, and he claimed to have rigged the local election results, then came losing candidates that claimed they also got an offer to rigged votes but did not buy in therefore they lost. But then they cannot back up they claim with stronger evidence because they forgot who it was that made the offer and so, basically Rep. Locsin just told them to shut it.

Who won as president is pretty much set with Noynoy being ahead so much that if you add Erap and Villar's votes, he could still win, but the VP race is a cliffhanger. Now, I voted for Binay but if Mar lost, it would be really heart-breaking like it-could-be-made-into-a-movie-sad! After all the cheesy commercials, wedding stunts, twittering about the honeymoon, the "big sacrifice" he made it still came to nothing. Sigh, politics in the Philippines, it is never boring. It can be irritating and nauseating that it makes you want to forsake this country but it is never boring.

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So that's how my summer went. I remember it being more dramatic but I guess the drama didn't matter that much.

Back in Batulao

This is my first time to lead a climb. I am so proud of myself!
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Since all the guys are in Bicol for the Araw ng Kagitingan weekend holiday, it was the perfect day to embark on our secret-just-us-girls climb. With Rozza, Jean, Mona and Eden, I went back to the charming Batulao; this time with no extra hands to keep me steady or the assurance that someone would catch me if I happen to slip and fell of a cliff. More importantly, I am the one responsible for this climb. I even got to have a whistle!.
we could not feel the harshness of the summer heat. We planned to take the old trail and back, because that was the trail we know but since we met some climbers that vouched for the new trail to be easier, we ended up taking it. Mona reasoned so that we will have something new to tell them. It did seem relatively easy but before long, I started wishing for the shade that trees on the old trail offered. At the new trail, there are no time for stops except for the designated camps, you just have to keep on walking. If there is a Batulao Old Trail facebook page, I want to become a fan. There was a time when we felt like action stars because we were clutching at the rocks on the side of the mountain to keep us steady, since at the other side is a cliff that would take a lot of tumbling down before you reach the bottom. And before we knew it(literally, we really did not know) we had reached the summit. I did not recognized it because there was no shed selling softdrinks at the summit the last time I was there. Also, it was marked camp 10, I honestly heard the lady at camp 7 say that the new trail is up to camp 12, so I was looking forward for camp 11 and 12. But no, camps 11 and 12 does not exist in Batulao, may be in some other mountain. Also I was looking out for the boulder that the team climbed the last time we were there, it turned out to be the group of rocks we had our photo session on. No wonder that tile with an image of Flight to Egypt looked familiar to me. Good thing someone asked where the summit is and Manong, obviously amused, told us that we are right on it. Since we became nostalgic for the old trail, we decided to traverse and go down using it. I forgot that I hated the trail going down from camp 9 to 7. I still can not believe how I survived it the first time considering it was already dark when we went down from the summit. I guess its true, ignorance is bliss. If you are not aware of the cliff that is dangerously close to your path (path? more like rolling rocks), then there is no reason to be afraid. Camp 7 does not look too far from summit, I think it took us a good 20 minutes to reach it. Or maybe it just seemed longer because it was so uncomfortable. Not to mention the heat, it was then past 12 and the stones felt like frying pans on our hands. We joked that we would be having fried palm coated with dust for lunch. That's another thing, we looked like chocolate espasol. We were covered with a thick layer of dust, even our arms and legs considering we were wearing long sleeves and pants. I don't remember being this dirty last time around, because if we were and we slept without cleaning up, then eww. Seriously, I used five wet tissues on my hands yet I could still see dust clogging my pores. But it is clean enough to eat lunch, after all when you are out there in the wilderness, you can't be too squeamish with things like cleanliness. We had lunch at camp 6, where we held camp before. There used to be a small patch of grass under the shade but instead we got more dust, but of course that did not stop us from resting our backs and lying on it. Rozza took a nap on a tree trunk that serves the purposes of a couch in a civilized home. It amaze me how my sister could just sleep anywhere. I need to learn that skill. About 2pm we started our descent. Everyone agreed that the old trail is easier, especially Eden, who is a first-timer. She said that this kind of trail was what she expected and not the death-defying thing we did earlier. Still, we had more stops because when we weren't walking under the shade, the heat is so intense. Plus there are more opportunities to rest and we were confident that we would reach the start-off point by sundown, so there is no point in rushing. By 4pm we had reached the houses near the jump-off and had caught up with the group of mountaineers that urged us to take the new trail. I am so proud of my newly developed social easiness with other climbers, even if they are complete strangers and we have nothing in common except that we walked the same path as they did. We also had the best iced-candy I ever had, which Manong kindly got from another house just because I asked for it. Mountaineering lets me witness how nice and accommodating strangers can be. I thought our pace was so slow because we were two hours behind the itinerary we were following(which we did not really follow it because it was the itinerary for the old trail) but they reminded me that this is a no time pressure climb and just think, if Mona brought her camera we would be delayed a lot later. What matter is that all of us are still walking.

Around 5:30, we were ready to go back to Manila. I just lead a climb and we all got down safe and alive! Snaps!

O Kalisungan! Ang Bagsik mo!

I guess it was a mistake, right from the start, to think that we could ever exact revenge on a mountain. When the guys first climbed Mt. Kalisungan, they weren't really challenged, they ended up being bored. They said that after what I had experienced at Tarak, I'm just gonna laugh at this trail. We forgot the most important rule in mountaineering, never underestimate a mountain. Never underestimate a mountain! The result: the most miserable night of my life.

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Six months after my last climb, my legs are raging to go. Mt. Kalisungan is in Victoria, Laguna and I'm thrilled to be traveling to the more eastern part of this province. It has this romantic, rustic charm that I just don't feel in Cavite or Bulacan. We passed by the town of Bay and I swear I could smell the delicious aroma of Monay Bay. It's one of the best bread ever! By 10am we arrived at Victoria and had an early lunch, then after some rest we started our trek. We were 18 in the group and that was the biggest group of climbers I had ever been with, it seem like we are in jamboree. Not that I have ever been in a jamboree, but I know it involves a lot of people. We joined Jeff at the head of the trail because, I am now much more confident with my trekking skills and I know Rozza is faster than most people and would get bored anywhere else but the front. It feels good to be the leading for a change, you get more rest and you don't have to wait for the one in front of you to move on. The trail in Kalisungan is very cool and shady. It is similar to Tarak but less stressful, no brooks you have to cross, you don't have to cling on rocks for your life and no dead trees you have to hurdle. Just lush greenery all around you. Sid warned us it would be so hot because of the practice of kaingin. I think the typhoons made this trail much more bearable. We did not notice it but that must have been the first clue that Sid's account on what to expect may no longer be applicable. It is amazing how a mountain could change that fast. Sir King said the grasses and the trees weren't there before, it is almost like a new trail. The last stretch was really steep and windy, plus there is also a light drizzle! This is so bad for my lungs. We got at the summit way before the others (wee!),so we have to wait for them. But Rozza and I were way cold that we can't just stand around. So we explore more of the camp site and ran around. There is something so joyful with running on a mountain, it is so liberating, like you are a child again. Only, I did not really ran much when I was a child, much less on a grassy mountain. So it just feels out of this world for me.

After resting for a while, we started cooking but the winds are making it so difficult. This starts our struggle against the winds of Kalisungan. When the sun started to set, I started getting worried. Our food took forever to be cooked and during dinner time, we just ate our food inside the tent because staying outside is so uncomfortable. It was supposed to be humid, with lots of insects flying around. Those were the things we were told to expect, but no insect would survive these winds. I thought of wearing a malong over my already multi-layered clothes but it just made me feel like I'm in a parachute. The tents also needed to be rearrange to protect everyone from the wind and you can just ask the guys how stressful that was. So after the tent rearrangement, our tent was placed at the back of Sir Mike and Ma'am Rose's tent, right beside the slope. I get that Sir M's tent would block the winds for our tent but it does not stop me from imagining our tent tumbling down the slope. Sometimes vivid imagination sucks. Anyway, tired bones must sleep, even if the winds are howling, we must try. Surprisingly, I slept better compared to my other camping experiences; but when I woke in the middle of the night the image of a tent tumbling down comes back and the winds are really making me question why I am not in the safety of my own bed. It also started to rain. I hear b\voices so it is comforting to know that I am not the only one awake on this miserable night. Meanwhile, I was contemplating when would be the acceptable time to barge into either Sid's or Jeff's tent for refuge but when I felt a small puddle with my foot, I immediately woke up Rozza and gathered our stuff. We transferred to Sid and Tina's tent. Soon enough, other tents are waking up because they are getting flooded too; except for Sir King and Jeff who seemed to be oblivious to our sufferings. All of us are now waiting for the sunrise because sunrise would mean the end of this miserable night. Anyway, since I am paranoid I still keep on checking up our tent, just too make sure it was still there. The wind was still very strong but the rain had stopped and the skies had cleared; wow! The view is amazing, the sky is full of stars and lakes are reflecting them, further you can see the lights of nearby Laguna towns. It's a shame that we could not enjoy the view.

Much later than we had hoped, the sun finally showed up. The winds were still not letting up but at least I no longer see our tent rolling down the slope of Kalisungan. We had breakfast and packed up, when we were ready to leave it started to rain again, we are actually among the clouds. The trail became really muddy and we had to use a makeshift cane to keep us from slipping. We are at the end tail, so we had no idea why we weren't moving like we are buses on EDSA. It was like that for sometime so on our first "real" stop, I made sure we are not at the back. After a lot of sliding in the mud and laughter we finally made it back to the starting point. Kalisungan's trail is by far my favorite but the camp out was really horrible, I don't want to go through that again. Would I come back to Kalisungan? Maybe but not during January.

2009 was a Rollercoaster

What a year, what a year... everyone seem to be cursing 2009 for all the misfortunes it brought but for me it was a thrilling, sometimes hellish (yes, I learned some valuable lessons but do I ever want to go through this again? Definitely, no!) year. At the end, the good outnumbers the bad and here are the significant events:


This is the year I conquered great (literal) heights!
I climbed mountains this year. If you met me before 2009 and I told you about my new hobby, you would think I'm kidding. You would even joked about my lung's capacity to do such a thing. Then, I would just flash you a really smug smile. Mt. Batulao was amazing. It's like a breath of fresh air in this polluted murky world that is my life. Somewhere between Batulao's twin peaks, I started believing in myself again. To do something no one, not even myself, thought I could do; just feels so unbelievably awesome, that I would be forever thankful to Moni for inviting me to be part of her, err... semi-stalking escapade. I also made new friends, I grew, learned and experienced a lot more because of them. Special mention should go to Sid, who I judged to be The Friend of the Year for 2009. Having a male buddy to sort out all kinds of drama is nice, but if that male buddy has a psychology degree and you can get therapy sessions for free; that is way, way better. Plus the loyalty he gave me through all that K situation (breaking the bro code and all), saved me from a really complicated deep shit.

Overall, mountaineering gave me a new perspective on life that I begin to hope again. It also started a fire inside me that pushes me to enjoy life anew.


Another defining event was when I cut my hair really short and finally heeded the call of hairdresser everywhere to undergo relax treatment. I'm almost unrecognizable. I lost my fragile look and I look, can you believe it? Edgy. I could pass for a member of UP PEP, if only I could do back flips. Sometimes I miss my long hair, but for now I enjoy the freedom my short hair affords me.


2009 was not all fun, fun, adventure; it has its dark moments too. The depression bouts are harder this year because now, I'm fully aware that I am depressed unlike before when I just zoned out and escape it. But since I am aware of what is happening to me, I am now better in dealing with it. Plus, the realizations and insights I gain after the drama are very helpful in my healing process. At least now, I'm no longer in denial and I'm keeping my eyes and mind open. Let's just hope we get less and less of those dark nights.


I almost fell in love this year but I caught myself before I jumped off the edge, with a bit of help from my friend of the year. I thought the getting over process would be long and tedious but surprise! surprise! It took less than a week. I guess it wasn't really love or rather I just love the fairytale story presented before me. It was a classic case of too good too be true. Oh well; if its not meant to be, then its not meant to be. The experience was not too drastic, it was even a little sweet but it was not meant to go anything beyond that. Schoolgirl hopes don't mesh well with grown-up relationships, anyway I learned to just enjoy the good stuff and be careful with the bad. From now on with things like this, I'm heeding Bheng's advice: chill lang.


This year I got to experience to be a foreigner, then I realize it does not have much impact when you look just like the natives. Still, they speak a different language. It was not the rock-my-world-experience I imagined my first out-of-the-country trip would be but Taipei has its charms; the best of which is Luis. When I was sitting by the sidewalk while he was gushing about the plants, I cannot believe how lucky I was to be having this moment with him. He seem to define both awesome and adorable at the same time. Besides Luis, Taipei is the land of pretty cakes and shoes. The shoes are Makati products that have lower than Divisoria prices. It is shoe heaven. When I go back there, I'm going home with a trunk full of shoes. It's nice to experience a cleaner and more organized city living than ours, but although Taipei zoo is a million times better than Manila zoo, I would never fall in love with Taipei the way I did with Manila. Manila's got some crazy charms.


Lastly, I'm gonna include this because I'm so crazy about it, Glee is the best thing on TV right now. I love it! I've never been envious to people who can sing till now. Glee is Happiness. I so thankful for Glee.

So that was 2009, I just realized I had a better year than most people. Even if I had some down moments I am still very lucky. I'm thankful for that. For 2010, I want more mountain climbing and less drama.