Posterity is not our business

Last month, The Guardian ran a Q&A with James Bond. I'm no idol, but the questions are fun to answer. So here's my adult slam book post.

When were you happiest?
In college.

What is your greatest fear?
Secrets exposed, privacy invaded.

What is your earliest memory?
Life in our house at Agoncillo in Malate, Manila.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
I can be passive and passive-aggressive.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Inconsideration.

Aside from a property, what's the most expensive thing you've ever bought?
A 20/20 vision.

Where would you like to be now?
In bed with this guy I met early this year.

What do you most dislike about your appearance?
Scar at the back of my right lower leg.

What is your most unappealing habit?
I retire to my little space and become very quiet, expecting everybody to understand, forgetting that people sometimes actually seek and enjoy my company.

What is your favourite smell?
Musk.

What is your favourite word?
Tomorrow. (I like spelling it, especially when it comes to the double r.)

What is your fancy dress costume of choice?
Beauty queen. Or dominatrix, coz it's so not me.

What is the worst thing anyone's ever said to you?
Tie between you're not pretty and you're stupid.

What is your guiltiest pleasure?
Most pleasures, I think, have an element of guilt.

What do you owe your parents?
Security.

Which living person do you most despise and why?
Too many to mention.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
Really, just, easily.

If you could edit your past, what would you change?
Working as a tutor for so long.

How do you relax?
At my secret Sunday restaurant, seated at my favorite spot beside the window, having brunch or late lunch while reading a book. I know I'm done when I've had my third cup of coffee.

What single thing would improve the quality of your life?
Financial freedom.

What keeps you awake at night?
Dreaming.

What song would you like played at your funeral?

Fisherman's Horizon by Nobuo Uematsu.

How would you like to be remembered?*
'She saw something in me that no one else has even seen. She understood.'

What is the most important lesson life has taught you?
Never count on things or people to be fair or good; but always be fair and good.

There are more questions that I find very interesting, but also difficult to answer. I'll list them in the meantime and maybe get back to it later:

Which living person do you most admire and why?; What is your most treasured possession?; Who would play you in the film of your life?; What is your favourite book?; To whom would you most like to say sorry and why?; What or who is the greatest love of your life?; What is the worst job you've ever done?; If you could go back in time, where would you go?; Who would you invite to your dream dinner party?; What do you consider your greatest achievement?; Tell us a secret.

* In the article that inspired this entry, James Bond responded to the question, 'How would you like to be remembered?' with 'Posterity is not our business'.

In a Comme des Garçons state of mind

No matter how weird or unique you think you are, you will regularly find yourself in life's textbook moments. For example, if you ask me now, 'What is your most embarrassing experience?'—a question that would usually take me forever to answer—I would say before you get to the second syllable of the word embarrassing: I went all the way from home to work with my blouse turned inside-out. That involved riding two vehicles, crossing about five streets, and passing by at least three people in the office before arriving at my department.

The good news is—are: You learn that you have friends who:

1. have sharp eyes and care about you enough to break it to you gently;
2. will say all the right words to console you;
3. will surprise you with an unexpected response like laugh at the situation and encourage you to look at the brighter side of things; and
4. will give you special treatment and be kind to you when surely they'd be snarkier if it happened to a non-friend.

Fasyown

My favorite response is from Morx, who falls into category #4. He said, 'Kung inside-out, baka akalain nilang Comme des Garçons ang blusa mo. Fasyown.'

Thanks, friends.

On the darker side of things, I can't help but ponder the sheer stupidity of it all. How can I be trusted then with the bigger things, like raising a child or running a project when I overlook my, well, look?

But then maybe I shouldn't be too hard on myself. Lesson noted. Check the mirror with the lights on before leaving the house.

When I got home, I took off my blouse and impulse and curiosity made me put it on again a la Comme des Garçons. Well, it wasn't that bad, I thought and started giggling. Yeah I can see it. Pretty funny, majorly embarrassing.

Small things

It's been raining non-stop this weekend. And this morning the downpour made me stay at home until around 11 AM. When I got out to finally go to work, I couldn't find transportation. All public vehicles would only travel until Evacom (merely a couple of traffic lights away). Going back home was an option, but I didn't feel like it, so I decided to have lunch at the nearby Tropical Hut and then hoped for a successful commute afterwards.

A fast-food restaurant I like.
Serves good coffee.

The place, which has been recently renovated to look fresher, was almost empty. Brilliant. I enjoyed a burger steak, two cups of coffee, and in between exchanged text messages with friends—asking how they are and if we could meet soon.

My calculations were precise (to exaggerate). When I left Tropical Hut, it took me a few blinks to get inside a van and in 30 minutes I was sitting pretty in my cubicle.

Roughly 4 hours were spent in the office. The rain still hasn't stopped. I asked a co-worker if I could hitch a ride home with him, to which he gamely said yes.

Now I'm in my room, and the rain continues. Time passed, nothing happened, but never have I felt like something was wasted.

If I were being lazy, I would say that it's the small things that make us happy; but it's not. That the weather is difficult but endurable (and currently pleasurable), that I am given latitude to be late, that I have had my meal in peace and quiet, that there are people who show care, and that not one of these would be meaningful without the others is no humble clockwork.

Nothing complicated

Top: Playing the mooncake dice game;
Bottom: My (consolation) prize

It's Friday and I didn't know my office mates planned on playing the mooncake dice game. The rule (as how I'm sure I imperfectly understand it) is: A player will roll six dice and a pattern must be apparent—say, 1-2-3-4-5-6 or 1-1-1-1-1-1, etc. No pattern, no prize.

Thing is, my brilliant co-workers only brought a die, so we each had to cast it six times. And arriving at a numeric theme by chance is di-ffi-cult (what I get for initially calling the game 'not challenging enough'). I swear we had more fun than how it looked in the photo.

In the end, I got a Leona Lewis CD, a humongous heart cake ring, and a charm necklace—all from our editor's treasure trove of PR giveaways.

There were tasks to finish and objects of dismay, but it was basically a laid-back night. TGIF— the wind's howling, we might be in for another stormy weekend.

Falling in the afternoon

You: I was part of the theater guild in college.
Me: Oh. Tell me about the worst criticism you received.
You: But I was prepared to talk about my glory days!
Me: Why? Tell me something I didn't know about happiness.

*

That was Anna Karenina floating in my head. You were stunned then, and I, completely happy in your company.

A day after I almost begged: Let's be happy some more and let's talk about it all night long.

'Tell me about those days,' I said instead.

A decade

The blog's first icon

Engrossed in the moment, which traveler ever takes his camera or notebook out to record the moment? I feel the same way about this online journal's 10th anniversary. There's no compulsion to talk about it, the goal has been reached: there's no more need to blog about blogging.

Maybe just this: Here's to ten more years of not taking things for granted— of bothering about life and living.

Honesty

You said I was weak. Matter-of-fact. The silence after as unwelcome as truth.

Just in case you feel sorry about it in the future and feel like it's too late to apologise, I'll let you know now that I forgive you.

Surprise

They say it's the thought that counts. Thanks for showing me what you think.

Bounce

My name is Razel and I'm a closet dance freak.

I don't frequent clubs because I perceive them as places to be seen and not to express one's self or let it out. Not to mention I need at least two square meters to myself when I dance.

But my music player is filled with disco tunes I play at full blast in my room on a night when there's nowhere to go but something to celebrate (and always, always there is something to celebrate).

The quality of my dance steps is directly proportional to the quality of the alcohol I'm downing. Gold Label, for example, will make me an unstoppable dance floor goddess. Yes I can be pretty awesome (understand that this is my inebriated self looking at the mirror speaking): My body executes movements my mind has yet to conceive.

I can't be trusted with the science, but surely dance is not possible without gravity? Whatever the case is, in my heart, to dance is the most beautiful way to fly.

First date

The candles were lit, the room burned yellow, the music started, they had to go.

*

What preceded was an artless afternoon: A table by the window. Soon there will sit one boy and one girl who, careful to betray their feelings, will mostly look through the colorless glass.

In not meeting each other's eyes, the sounds sharpen. They listen to each other's rhythm, each surprised by the other's attention. No big emotion must let loose.

*

The candles were lit, the room burned yellow, the heart felt hunger, they had to go.

Efforts to look good

Midnight at Bonifacio High Street, after a heavy downpour

The still water in the man-made pond reflected the image of the strip of boutique shops and the clarity was so captivating my friend and I had to pause from our walk.

I see that friend quarterly, roughly. Last night something was different about her. She was all dressed up. Normally she would just be in her jeans and t-shirt. But this time she donned a nice black-and-white printed blouse and white pants, and carried a black leather shoulder bag. It wasn't exactly a happy expression she was wearing, but she exuded a lighter air.

And neither was I happy. But it would be bad news to report that I didn't change for the better myself. I, too, have been dressing well, trying on new things.

You have to appreciate people for taking good care of themselves—which is the least selfish act, because that says they're hopeful about the world, and that they care about you. They want to be healthy for you, be able to brave the rain to meet you, treat you to a fancy dinner, listen to your worries attentively, make sense of your incoherences, give advice, share a laugh, engage in a midnight walk.

Birthday month thoughts

1.

'It takes a long time to grow young.' —Pablo Picasso

The quote is written in one of the birthday cards I received. A consolation, a challenge now that I'm 30?

2.

'We were never being boring.
We had too much time to find for ourselves...
We dressed up and fought then thought: Make amends.
We were never holding back, worried that time would come to an end.'

—Pet Shop Boys, Being boring

Glad to hear this song, which is a reminiscence, at this time when I still have a lot of chance to build things that will make for good memories, stories.

Don't talk to strangers

They might steal your heart.

Photos taken by my friend

Amelia was at the table in front. The cunning smile I practised for years, she flashed at me the instant our eyes met.

Her gracious parents allowed us to chat and play with my friend's camera.

As it was time to say good-bye, she suggested a kiss, which I was eager to give and receive. Too close, her tiny hands unknowingly took something that belonged to me.

Post-Valentine

You intimidate men.

No, I make them disinterested. There is no desire where there is no daring. If they don't find any motivation to approach me, that means they are not that attracted to me.

*

Nurse buddy

Singlehood only becomes difficult in two occasions: when you're horny and when you're sick. So aside from a booty call, there's hopefully an arrangement wherein someone would be there for you whenever you have a high fever and runny nose.

Poetry is a language

—just as with the doctor's and the computer programmer's—ineffective and not fully comprehensible to those who don't learn to speak it.

Why keep a diary

My 2012 diary

Maybe writing in a daybook is my praying. Talking to someone I don't know but believe in.

'Never abandon the wholesome practice of saying your own private prayers, night and morning. I have never abandoned it myself, and I know the comfort of it,' wrote Charles Dickens to his son.

Wholesome: promoting health or well-being of mind or spirit. A telling of the last twenty-four hours' events and thoughts soothes me.

It's more than putting memories, feelings and ideas in a vault for safe-keeping and posterity (I seldom re-read my journals anyway). It is a way of affirming the day. Today can only be complete if I re-call, re-assess, and re-construct it in words.

Wholesome: based on well-grounded fear. What is the consequence of missing a log? That what happened is not captured and made sense of, and is therefore meaningless and untrue.

Full

Chinese New Year's Eve at Mich's

Around 2005, I gained nine new friends. We met at that point in our lives when we thought we had more to learn within the walls of an academic institution, even if we already earned our bachelor's degree.

We understood two things very well: 1) Writing is a serious business; and 2) It's a mistake to take life too seriously.

Last night I shared a huge dinner table with (most of) them to welcome the New Year once more, and once more I felt happy being myself with a group of people I admire.

It's great to see friends regularly but at longer intervals, see how things have changed and remained. You surprise yourself, because, busy with living, you take for granted how you've been changing, too, or how you haven't.

In gatherings like this, all you remember the day after are the strong taste of sauce in your mouth, how someone looked so good in their dress, facial expressions, the rhythm of conversations, and a few floating phrases that your hungover mind manage to catch in a minute of wakefulness. 'Find someone who fills you up' was one such phrase. I wanted to delve deeper into that, but as with poetry, you savor the words first by their sound. Later when my mind is clearer, I'll make sense of it. There is the rest of the year to do so.

The loser

In tennis championships, my favorite part is the runner-up’s speech.

And I love looking at the face of the loser right after the game. Or moments before it ends and yet the player already knows his fate. That blank, faraway gaze. There’s no hope there in the eyes, only acceptance of defeat. And holding his composure, there’s courage in there too.

Secret Santa

Got a package

All right, coming clean, coming out. Deep inside my steely exterior is a screaming fangirl.

See, there's this little thing called Cabin Pressure. It's as little as an airdot (as compared to an airline). And this little thing makes me happy — not just cheery, but truly happy. Apparently, a lot of others are being made truly happy by it, too.

Long story short, I joined in the fandom's Secret Santa thingy last Christmas. Now, as you all know, the holidays just passed and it's almost February. So I thought that's it, my Secret Santa either was sick, got the wrong address, or left me for another girl.

But then the universe was only testing my patience (because it likes to do that to people). Last night I received a notice from the post office. It required going to the customs.

To cut to the highlight of the story, my Secret Santa hasn't forsaken me.

Inside the package

"...I think it's an utterly stupid idea for two reasons: one of which is obvious and the other of which is that Arthur is 29 years old." Yeah, this might be something only 15-year-olds engage in, but deep inside me is a 15-year-old beaming girl.

First of 2013

Last night you told me:
                                   tomorrow
we shall have to think up signs,
sketch a landscape, fabricate a plan
on the double page
of day and paper.

—Excerpt from January First by Elizabeth Bishop

Bishop wrote about inventing, 'once more, the reality of this world' come first of January. And that's how we are, really, swayed by the promise of a new year. We're creatures of hope. And we are creatures of invention.

*

Mid-afternoon I had the singular pleasure of reading and drinking coffee. It all came together perfectly: the cool weather, the thrilling book, the hot brew, the silence. This was what everyone talks about when they talk about being away from it all, it all being the problems and worries one has to bear each day.

From my humble, unkempt room, I sincerely wish everyone I learned to love and be fond of, everyone that ever intrigued me, and everyone that helped alter my life in the littlest but entirely positive way, that they constantly retreat to that place where they can feel light and be away from it all.

Life may be a matter of perspective, but life can be blatantly ugly. In these instances, that we have the strength to endure until everything is better again.

*

If I may give a few tips (for what, I don't know— Maybe we could consider these as things I would've told my younger self):

1. If you see something good in someone, tell them at once.
2. Be yourself. No kidding. If you want that cliché rephrased: Accept you're awesome and the world just have to deal with it.
3. It's harder to be kind. Bad girls aren't cool.
4. You're only as smart as you're willing to learn.
5. It's okay to be weak. Ask for help.

*

Happy New Year!