and i'm back ... again.

blame it on my having just finished nora ephron's "i feel bad about my neck (and other thoughts on being a woman)". suddenly, all i wanted to do was to get in front of a computer and start writing. ideas just sprouted in my head, like how filipinos can defy the law of physics by stuffing so many people in a jeepney or the mrt during rush hour. or how there was a month where i bumped into exes one after the other, like they were on a parade or something. or how, just like when i was a kid, something i so super wanted i miraculously got the following day.

my officemate berates me from sharing too much online. she was the one who first did twitter, cause she said it was "cooler" to post your FB status from twitter, rather than just typing it out directly (i don't understand why, i still just type my status update directly, i'm uncool that way, i guess)and now, she can't understand why i have 2,401 tweets already and following everyone, from angelica panganiban to neil gaiman.

at that time, i couldn't really answer. i guess i just love to talk, and tweeting is a way of talking to the universe. but now, after reading ephron's book, i guess the reason why i write so many things online is because i can. and because it's cheaper than therapy, or the alternative to that, shopping. i blog (or tweet) when i'm delirious with joy and when i'm so disappointed with the world that i just want to hide under a rock. i blog when i'm freshly reveling in the joys of a new love and when my eyes are too puffy from crying that i can't hardly see the screen. i blog when i have new shoes or when i want to buy one.

i hope this "burst" of writing frenzy lasts. i think i used to like myself when writing was something i did everyday. maybe it's cause writing is a muscle - it has to be constantly exercised otherwise you get rusty, and words fail to tumble out of you in beautiful sentences. whatever. i like writing, so what if i overshare online? it's not like the universe is reading anyway.

home alone

this is my second attempt at writing this.

with a ctrl+a, and then the del button, i just deleted a five-paragraph long post and decided to start anew.

i'm thinking, where has the wit gone? where is the panache that enabled me to write crazy stuff about my life in the past? where's the girl whose smiles reached her eyes and jumped at a moment's notice.

i guess things, including me, have truly changed.

then again, if my laptop's old and dying already, what am i to expect of me? i have had this for four years now, and my dad had it for a year or so before he gave it to me. it's not exactly a new laptop, in fact, it's pretty old. and i've been blogging long before i got this. so, there. changes are truly afoot, changes are, if i must say so, truly necessary.

last night, after i found out that "the sweetest thing" was showing on hbo (thanks to an FB post by a college friend), i watched it and again was confronted by the fact that why is it that i am sort of the owner of this home and yet i am unable to claim it as my own. what am i waiting for? a husband and kids to turn me into a responsible person? has staying in the room that i've had since i was a freshman in high school stunted my growth to the point that i still leave shoes at varius places in the house? why is it that on lazy days I am still primarily preoccupied with reading books and catching up on sleep, hiding out in my bedroom when i've got an entire home to enjoy.

okay - how did i jump from the sweetest thing to my home issues? there was a scene there where cameron was at her apartment (her apartment!) and she was in the living room enjoying the space. i couldn't say that for myself. you see, my living room is where i've dumber blazers for washing, shoes i've used up for the week, and a couple of stuff i haven't stored away yet.

gah. i am 32 and still living the life of a teen.

my mom has said she's coming home soon for a vacation. hopefully that'll force me to get my act together and prove to her that hey, i AM an adult and the house shows it. until then, i just have to make sure i don't trip as i navigate around the things i've left lying on the floor :)

was it my screwed up hormones or was it just me?

as i sit behind my messy office desk listing down the numerous things i have to finish, i can help but still feel the glow of a job well done. a couple of weeks ago, i did a pleading for this old case that was assigned to me recently and after we submitted said pleading, the office copy came back my way with a very clear "very good" on it written by one of the firm's partners. then yesterday, i read an email from a new client saying i was very well prepared and that they were satisfied with my work. today, the same client sent a text message appearing to be very happy with the opinion i emailed today.

all of a sudden, all the issues i poured out to paz two sundays ago are gone and here i am, content once more with the path that i have taken and the work that i'm doing. i am happy and for some reason, i do not mind knowing that the next couple of weeks will require extra long days if i want to shine like the bright star that i want to become.

a while back a friend noted that i had ceased to be the fun person i was before. and that scared me a lot. how can i not be cheerful, sunshiny, bright, happy and bouncy when these are the very things that i think define me. i cannot NOT be fun, at least to my mind. i cannot be serious and deep, or the type that ponders on things. i am impulsive. i am a whirlwind. i am entropy personified.

so i tried blaming hormones - maybe its just cause of the medicine i'm taking. or stress, cause, really, i've been tired a lot lately. i also wanted to blame lack of sleep although we all know more than anything else i do make sure i get a lot of that.

somewhere between the blaming sessions and today, i realized that happiness doesn't mean being bright, sunshiny, and cheerful all the time. happiness isn't also something that comes from shallow little things that makes one smile from ear to ear. i can be the fun person i was without all the external trappings.

go back to the first paragraph.

i am doing a great job.

i am making my clients happy. (and if they're happy, then so must be my bosses too)

so forget happiness from bouncy shiny happy things. i am an adult, and when one's an adult, happiness comes from doing what ought to be done right and the best way you can. and guess what - that's where i am at right now :)

happy birthday, person i deleted from my life.

a year ago, i celebrated the birthday of a person i christened my best friend after a couple of days of hanging out and getting swimmingly along. two months after that, i was pissed off, mad, and had made the unilateral decision to delete him from my life without any ceremony whatsoever. i was done, i wanted to move on, and there was nothing there that i wanted to go back to anymore. it was a bad decision borne out of impulse and, most likely, loneliness and therefore best chalked up to experience.

early this morning, while watching a movie that turns a woman's heart into jello, a friend reminded me of so-and-so's birthday. i had almost forgotten about it, but apparently the fate's won't let me. and so, now, almost halfway into ex-friend's birthday, i am choosing to remember the good things, the happy moments, and the friendship that was lovingly offered when i needed it the most.

with everyone boasting of countless of "friends" on facebook, one can't but help ask herself really what friendships are made of, and whether, when one realizes her car batteries has died, there'd be someone to pick her up and say it will be okay. there's always the looming question that even with the hundreds of names on my cellphone, there's someone there i could call when i'm too choked up to breathe from crying my heart out. with the ease of getting in touch via YM and skype and facebook chat, would any one of the people i can reach via these messenger-type technology be willing to listen to me as i, for the millionth time, complain about my meager salary?

last night, i had dinner with my college dorm mates - friends i had not seen and barely heard from since i graduated in 1998. when we saw each other, we hugged and said our hi's and talked as if we all just checked out of ilang-ilang yesterday. the dad of one of us passed away before her bar results came out. the baby sister of another is now a freshman in UP manila. and, surprisingly, all of us are lawyers none, although none of us had expressed a desire to be one while we were in college. after a hearty dinner, we made plans to meet regularly, once a month, schedule permitting, and to never let time and distance come between the special bond we shared while we were all still at that stage of figuring life out.

after dinner, i rushed over to another friends how, friends from my present life, and we spent time watching movies on dvd together. all of us were tired, and none of us were in any condition to really spend the night rocking but we were there, enjoying quiet time together, knowing deep in our hearts that times like this are rare to come by.

maybe it's time for an apology to the boy who's celebrating his birthday today. maybe i was wrong for giving up on a friendship with you, after all, you did prove yourself a good friend when i was at a low point. and maybe it's time to acknowledge that friendships do not need technology but require actual time and presence to flourish. maybe it's time to thank new friends who met me when i was the most alone in my life and helped mold me into the strong, fearless, and (semi)confident single woman i now am.

and so, happy birthday, enzo. i'm sorry i can't greet you today cause i've deleted your number from my phone but know that as i go to mass tonight you'll be in my prayers. thanks ate precious and ivy for making time to have dinner last night and for making future plans to make this a regular thing. i am glad to have found you two again. and, to my girls, pazi, jenny, antonette, and shy - i am uber blessed to have you in my life, strong women all, godly, caring, and loving, fun and fearless, and always willing to have that occasional drink with me when i find myself in a horribly screwed up situation all over again.