there are a lot of things in life that can make one unabashedly happy, except that sometimes, we feel really diyahe to talk about it.  take for example my perverse addiction to watching the buzz.  it's something that i'm sort of willing to admit in this blog, but god forbid that that little bit of information comes out when i meet someone like chief justice davide.

imagine:

CJ Davide: Rosa, I heard that you're a hard-working law student who works full-time to make ends meet. (of course it has to sound this way, dream sequence, eh.)

Rosa: Yes, sir.

CJ Davide:  So what do you do on your spare time, hija?

Rosa:  Uh, sir, I watch Kris Aquino on The Buzz.

*shudders*

it's cool to admit i stay up late watching csi and the amazing race, but not sharon cuneta movies on cable television.  you strut to be seen at G3 but not when you're parked at kowloon house satisfying a major siopao craving at 11 in the evening.  in the blessed alone-ness of my car, i belt out the new rivermay greenwich pizza commercial but i've learned to keep my vocal cords happily quiet when in polite company.

so, what's your guilty pleasure?

with ideas such as the "7 year itch" and break-ups left and right, a girl can't help but think, do boyfriends come with an expiry date?
 
when you find yourself beginning to enjoy the company of a particular date out of many, you can't help but ask the guy how long his most serious relationship lasted.  the answers vary - some enjoyed particularly long tenures with ex-girlfriends (four years) and some barely scraped by with something a little more than a fling (6 months).  inevitably, when you get coupled with that person, you find yourself counting the months and days leading up to the "expiry date".  when things get sour, you break it off, believing that all bad "products" must be disposed of quickly, lest they contaminate others (in particular, you.)  however, if and when you do get over the "expiry date" (like my roommate did), you get cocky, believing in your heart that you have achieved the impossible.

experience tells me that somehow, men do expire after a certain period.  not that you don't really want them anymore, or vice-versa, but it just has something to do with their own ability to put up with any sh*t in general.  take, for example, the martian.  he dated his first serious girlfriend on and off for almost 7 years.  he basically drove her around, put up with everything she wanted and needed, and nearly didn't graduate because he was too busy being her boyfriend.  needless to say, i believed he was good for 7 years, or until we got married, except that I had an expiry date and well, i didn't last.

on the other hand, universal pangit ex had an expiry date of 6 months.  in spite of being 33 years old and financially independent, he has never had a relationship that lasted beyond 6 months.  how long did we last? 5 ... and around 6 days.

i'm hoping that the pilot doesn't come with an expiry date.  like honey, i hope to find him with me, fresh and good to go, even after a thousand years.  i hope he finds me with him too when the time comes.  once in your life you find someone who doesn't spoil, curdle, or go sour.  and when that happens, you stop believing in expiry dates, you learn to believe in forever.

women aren't used to happy relationships.

i know i'm not.  i'm not used to the unabashed adoration, the early morning phone calls, the late night surprises, and the non-stop "i-love-you's".  i won't deny that i thrive on them, because i really do, but sometimes when they're there, you can't help but wonder, when is this all going to end? 

i've been than road before, falling in love and enjoying the highs of a grand love affair.  we used to SMS snippets of neruda to each other.  he left lovely cards on my office table filled with words that would be reason enough to swoon and float on cloud 9 all day long.  love was ideal, i loved him and he loved me.  we were our greatest allies for two years before it all came to a screeching halt, and a little more than a month before we were to celebrate our 3rd year together, he sent me an SMS saying that he wanted out.  forget the fact that at that time, i didn't even think we were together anymore, or that i've actually stopped thinking about him already.  it was the most painful moment of my life (or at least i thought it was then, but more tragic stuff have happened telling me that it was overly dramatic to believe our break-up was that tragic).

fast forward to pat the pilot.

he's beautiful, he's fun, and he's everything i've always hoped all the intervening boys and men i've dated in the past to be.  he's always ready with a kiss and a hug at the end of a very tiring week.  he's made the "house with a white picket fence and 2 1/2 kids" promise already.  i'm happy, he's happy.

but i'm paranoid.

and as a result, i end up screwing things.

funny how while i was typing up this post, he called, and was bothered about the lack of my usual morning text message.  he thought i was being cold, and when i explained to him that i was trying to not get used to our lovey-dovey coziness and what-not, he got pissed, and i got pissed, and we fought.

wait, no, it's not funny.  it's pathetic.

in the middle of a hot summer day when no matter how skimpy your outfit and how the airconditioner (or electric fan) is on full blast you still test the effectiveness of your anti-perspirant nonetheless, you wonder,

when the f*ck is it going to rain?
 
i, rosa, of weather expertise, give you several answers:

1. it will rain on your wedding day.
yes, it usually does, and nothing to worry about.  according to folklore, rain means money therefore, more rain means more money.  of course white dress + killer pumps do not make a good rain outfit but rain should be appreciated.  at least, according to my grandmother.

2. it will rain when you wear your very sexy, very beautiful, but very difficult to walk in brand-new *insert here shoe of choice*
you hem and haw about buying that nth pair of pointy and painful but very sexiful stilettos, you check your wallet, mentally compute your upcoming expenses, and text several friends before you come to a decision to buy sexy shoes.  you plan an entire outfit around your shoes.  you determine the day when they're going to get the most mileage and "viewing time."  rest assured that even if you waited for weeks to finally wear them, the day you do, will be the day that those "isolated rains and thunderstorms" will be exactly where you are.

3. it will rain the day you are running late and your car is on "coding" for the day.
i don't think i need to explain that.  it just rains.  similarly, it rains when there are no cabs, jeepneys, buses, tricycles, pedicabs, or friendly neighbors to drive you around.

4. it will rain two weeks after you've last had your car washed and you finally decided that this is the day that you will make time to drive over your favorite carwash to have your car washed, vacuumed, and waxed.
imagine: a clear blue sky, birds chirping, and roosters crowing.  perfect day, right? except your car looks like it has joined the last off-road championships.  so, you drive over to your friendly neighborhood carwash and shell out money to have your car cleaned.  it won't be long before the sky darkens and it rains.  not drizzle, but rain.  real rain, the kind that makes eerie sounds and blows umbrellas away.

so, there.  four ways to make it rain. 

any other suggestions?

and no, rey and vanessa, i will not accept your suggestion that i sing.

when people get coupled, they begin hanging out with each other more than they hang out with their friends and family. invitations get to be for you and your significant other, people have a tendency to look for him, and god forbid that you don't bring him to an event, especially when people have heard about him but have never seen him yet. why? because catty boys and girls begin labeling your significant other as Snufalufagus, the boyfriend that only you can see.

unfortunately for me, even if the pilot happens to live about fifty steps away from my house, law school takes me exactly 31 kilometers away from him from monday to saturday. given the gasoline prices plus the traffic plus tollgate plus wear & tear brough about by the roads in metro manila equals very little time with pat.

which brings me to the question, how much time should a couple spend with each other?

internet couples and those in long distance relationships tell you that time together is not as important as quality time. maybe true. but then given the number of couples who do break up once they start actually hanging out with each other tell you that there's something significantly wrong with not really hanging out with the other person. after all, watching how a guy deals with metro manila traffic or how a girl eats can tell you lots about the other person.

then you've got those people who are literally glued at the hip. they do everything together. a day apart is a day in virtual hell. is that good? maybe. maybe not. a couple in college spent every single day of college together then broke up right after graduation. the guy wanted to "explore his options." baloney.

so i don't know. sometimes i get cranky cause my boyfriend's hardly around. sometimes i like the freedom being alone brings me.

maybe i'll never know the answer.

but then again, maybe you do.

caladryl.
 
yes, it looks like caladryl.
 
or wedding color choices gown awry.
 
maybe on monday i can fix this again.  for now, bear with it.
 
caladryl.  yes, caladryl.

i tinkered with my template and look where it got me.
 
i lost everything.
 
everything.
 
my jimny matchbox, my links, my comment box, my sitemeter, my nerdcounter.
 
everything!
 
all because i wanted to use the font "georgia" and i wanted my template in hot pink.
 
pshew.
 
now what?
 
after much tinkering, sweating, and cursing in general,  plus checking out my source code for previous entries posted, i sort of got my old template back.
 
whew.
 
happy now.
 
but then i still want the pink blog.
 
and "georgia" as my font.
 
and so i labor some more.

i've a thing for going through my archives. doesn't matter that i wrote them myself, or that i can still remember some of the details in my stories. archives, i believe, have a way of soothing one's soul.

i began blogging two years and two months ago. i was 25 and in a very rocky relationship, if you could call it a relationship at all. i relied on my mom for transportation on weekends and have been declared by my dad as officially incapable of learning how to drive. i was brutally honest with my writing, not caring at all who read my blog, and shamelessly criticized my job, people i didn't like, and the world in general. my male best bud was still alive, my best girl friend was still single, and i had two perfectly functioning ovaries.

here i am, two years later. i may have lost some important people in my life, but i've gained friends i never would have met had it not been for the internet. i've learned what online journal meant -- tastefully choosing what to write and editing out what you won't and can't say in polite company. i've loved and lost, loved and lost, and loved and lost but i still believe in finding the one.

two years that would have gone unnoticed had it not been for the archives. two years that i may have chosen to delete from my memory and refuse to admit even to myself.

however, they're all there, in my archives.

back to the '80s*
*title borrowed from a radio show aired on wednesdays from 6-7 p.m. at 93.1

i grew up in the 80s. madonna was our britney and men who wore make-up were rock stars, not metrosexuals. i contributed to the hole in the ozone layer all because i wanted cobra hair. i wore brightly printed shirts in bright pink and black simply because they were cool. esprit was at the basement of cinderella and glorietta was a quadrangle with four huge grassy lawns.

and aga was a certified teenager, not some middle-aged man making out with a girl half his age.

we had fun, and we all thought we were hip. jeans were tight and pumps were pointy. plastic accessories weren't tacky, they were the coolest thing since spiderman married mary jane watson in the comic book series.

and my mom definitely wore blue eyeshadow.

welcome to 2004. the 80s are back.

no matter how much i thought last year's preview's best dressed list was a list that reflected money and multi-entry visas to key shopping capitals in the world, i succumbed to getting this year's copy. whereas last year had a lot of stuff that i pretty much lusted after, this year was just plain tacky. i don't know. i probably just don't get why anyone would want 80s fashion back. it was cheap, tacky, and definitely not elegant. socks with your pumps and electric pleats. bright blue eyeshadow. printed on printed.

maybe i'm not just a fashionista.

or maybe all i had to do was take a look at MY own pictures from that decade and realize that there is no way am i going to wear orange and green together ever again.

not even to bed.

i <3 ...

... having the will to say "i gotta go" to a friend after a particularly bad dinner where 90% of the conversation revolved around my brother. she has a huge thing for him and when my aunt and i warned her about his philandering ways, she took it to mean that the two of us were stopping "true love" from taking root and blooming. when i realized that i was getting awfully bored, tired, and was in general mentally counting the things i could be doing instead of sitting across her, i found the will to say "goodnight".

... having a good friend to go to a dinky little parlor named "rosa bonita" with. abovementioned parlor happens to be a discovery of an aunt's friend where for P250 you can get your lower legs stripped bare of hair using this sticky concoction called "alawa". it was a small hot parlor with almost zilch magazines so friend's presence was a big thing. said friend also lent me money to pay for lunch after i was left with only 50 bucks after alawa and atm's in the katipunan area were all off-line effectively cutting me off from my money.

... being able to decide that in spite of the P17.50 left in my pocket (fifty bucks minus money for photocopying readings = P17.50) i will risk going to SM sucat to check out atm's to get money, buy a gift for a birthday party, and watch kill bill vol. 2, alone. i was able to do all 3, yay, yay, yay.

... pat, who in spite of my usual cranky saturday evenings, patiently argued point by point with me until i backed down because i was tired already. sometimes, with pat, no matter how nasty our fights get, all it takes is for us to see each other face to face and we immediately run to each other for a huge hug, forgetting the reason why we fought in the first place.

... pat again, for driving me to golden chinese food haus in baesa, somewhere almost in novaliches, to serve a subpoena. when i was almost freaking out cause the person we were supposed to serve the subpoena to wasn't there, for coming up with an idea to draw the person out.

... parents who came up with the idea of having their kid's first birthday party in an adult place simply because almost all of the guests are adults and there were only about four children present. food was divine, there was no irritating party host forcing you to join the inane games to win prizes you'd have no use for at all, and everyone left the party generally happy.

... finally being able to watch spiderman 2 with pat, at the podium, where surprisingly, kids AND adults are well-behaved. no hooting, no phones ringing, no sticky floors, no small spaces between your knees and the chair in front of you. lovely, lovely cinema, much underrated, if you ask me.

... pat. pat, if i may say so myself, is divine, amazing, and the most handsome sweetie in the whole wide universe. lovely bonding time at 10:30 last night, just sitting and quietly chatting, hoping that the next time we get a lovely weekend like this won't be too far away in the future.

i've written about my younger (but significantly taller) brother in the past. i love him to bits, which is why sometimes i get into little messes he creates.

like the mess with what he calls his lovelife.

see, my brother got the better genes. put it this way: he's the kristine hermosa of our family, i happen to be kathleen. huge difference, right? anyway, good genes = complicated lovelife. my brother loves his girls, and with girls i mean girls. lots of them, scores of them. once, he made me put on my phone who to text on a particular day if i wanted a ride home. mon&thurs=official girl; tues&fri= the contender. weekends are an altogether different matter.

now, there's nothing wrong with collecting before selecting but my brother happens to be a romantic too, meaning, he's not just dating them, he gets into these situations wherein he's their boyfriend all at the same time. you must imagine the briefing my friends got when i got hospitalized: all they had to do was smile and if one girl comes right after the other, they're supposed to pretend nothing is amiss.

anyway, his good genes have somehow prevented the karma gods from running after him. he's safe, for now, which is good, after all, i wouldn't want to deal with anyone's dad armed with a shotgun standing outside our gate.

but then these girls sometimes expect me to be their friend. no problem, i'm as friendly as they get (sometimes).

it gets nasty though when they expect me to be their informant. much like a government employee, i've received little bribes in the past: gap dream and a sparkly lipgloss, gift certificate at the spa, half a gallon of ice cream, free dinner, and so on and so forth. i must say these girls are creative.

later i'm meeting with someone who wants to be part of the "girlfriend troupe". we're meeting at the podium and she said something about bonding and dinner, maybe coffee if we have time.

i've always said i can't be bribed.

but then who knows.

after all, i heard they've got this chocomint ice cream in the podium.

you expect your supervising lawyer to be a lot of things.

critic.
slave driver.
evil.
sarcastic.
scary.

but you never expect your supervising lawyer to be these things.

candid.
funny.
entertaining.
sweet.
generous.

and definitely you DON'T even begin to think your supervising lawyer would set you up with one of his associate lawyers, because they don't.

but, mine does. i thought it would just be a passing fancy. you know, something that tickles his funny bones and then something he'd forget soon enough.

nope, not at all. in fact, he's been going at it for the last three weeks.

so there, my supervising lawyer is a bugaw. catch him tonight at debate. he'll be the one with the bad haircut (or wig, i'm still trying to figure that out!)

i've fallen in love. again.

his name is diego and he lives in the quezon city area. he doesn't talk much but the way he looks at you speaks volumes. he's terribly cute, with big round eyes and chubby cheeks that makes you want to reach out and just pinch them. once, he held hands with me and it was cute how he didn't let go until it was time to leave.

now you're probably thinking, rosa, that lying cheating fink, how can you cheat on the pilot that way?

you're also probably thinking, what a new guy?

well, yeah, new guy. but diego, my dear diego, is two years old.

i've fallen in love with the child i wish pat and i would have someday.

* i would've put up a picture of diego here except my friend forgot all about uploading it. humbug.