nasa ganitong level na yung discussions:

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A: Ano pa ba yan? 
F: Yun parin. Kailangan ko lang ng isa pang run.
A: Eh kaya yan. May... 20 minutes ka pa.
F: Wow.
A: Please, wag na tayong lumampas ng twelve. Kailangan natin ng Work-Life Balance! (maniacal laughter)

*Sidebar, I am quite amused at the #medyobadgirl hash tag thing. This is my semi-contribution to that?

run on mayhem

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I feel like everything is all happening and everyone is expecting that everything is going to go well because I'm doing everything and I can't do everything, and I know something will give, and I am afraid I am not sure what that something is, but it will be big and everything will be horrible and I keep checking and re-checking what I feel like I'm missing and it seems to be nothing and I am beginning to feel like nothing because everything is happening but I cannot be everything.

(To a friend, as tonight's pile of OT begins) 

When you live near a cemetery, death becomes an interesting daily diversion.

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I am unexpectedly working from home today, the result of yesterday's bad muffin choices. (Well, I am assuming it was the muffin I ate yesterday, as it was the lone foreign element in all of the things I ate.)

Working from home is its own mix of tiredness, as there are less files to work with, still the same work, and perversely, the days when you are far from your workstation often become the days when everything seems to be happening, and more.

Thankfully, today seems to be a little less of any of that, but still tiring. (For me, anything unplanned usually is.)

I fell asleep around my email checks, supplier calls and bathroom time, and woke up hungry.

This was good, as I hadn't had anything before then: the idea of food was disgusting this morning.

But right now, it seemed to be everything.

I am lucky to be living in a dorm where we have a canteen, and can call down for food. It's hella convenient in the mornings after famishing runs.

Today, though, I decided to walk down and get something from Burger Machine, just so I could stretch my legs (and my attachment to the bathroom).

As I was waiting for my burger, I spied two funeral hearses. Both white, heading to South Cemetery, their nearness to one another disturbing the drama of each separate loss. I saw some the groups of mourners looking askance at the other group. To me, it seemed like the were daring one another: whose loss is/was greater?


It seemed a rude, unnecessary way to jar people into reality: a first-hand whack upside the head that loss not only occurred everywhere, it could also happen simultaneously.

I was watching them, as one does,** wondering what would happen, when the moment worked itself out. They both played the same funeral march song.

And as the strains of "Paalam Na" wafted from both hearses, the two grieving groups nodded to one another, and went on their way, both secure in the knowledge that loss was universal, but grief was personal.

*I am very, very blessed to have encountered very little loss in my life. My brother Michael died when I was too young to understand, or to grieve about it. My parents have been amazing at sharing him with us, and I know a little of the laughter in our house has given way for him. My grandfather Abel died when I was in college, the summer I passed Math 11, and I know he knew how much I love him for introducing me to breakfast, and the joys of dancing in the rain. Another uncle, my Uncle Roy, passed away recently. I am still dealing with his being gone, and I know he knows that.  I like to believe that they are together somewhere, just like in Elsewhere, one of my favorite versions of life after Earth.
**When they're me, anyway. To people watch is to live.
***It seems weird to be posting about death and stomach pains and whathaveyou but I just don't know.

these are my happy socks

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I call them that because they make me feel at ease, safe and...happy. Har.

It's first night in Bangkok and I feel...I feel.

Work trips are a different thing from explore trips, but I am beginning to warm to them.

Super excited for tomorrow's workshop! :)

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Go after her. Fuck, don’t sit there and wait for her to call, go after her because that’s what you should do if you love someone, don’t wait for them to give you a sign cause it might never come, don’t let people happen to you, don’t let me happen to you, or her, she’s not a fucking television show or tornado. There are people I might have loved had they gotten on the airplane or run down the street after me or called me up drunk at four in the morning because they need to tell me right now and because they cannot regret this and I always thought I’d be the only one doing crazy things for people who would never give enough of a fuck to do it back or to act like idiots or be entirely vulnerable and honest and making someone fall in love with you is easy and flying 3000 miles on four days notice because you can’t just sit there and do nothing and breathe into telephones is not everyone’s idea of love but it is the way I can recognize it because that is what I do. Go scream it and be with her in meaningful ways because that is beautiful and that is generous and that is what loving someone is, that is raw and that is unguarded, and that is all that is worth anything, really.
(Harvey Milk)

Alright, already. Going after someone in a while. :)

faire du leche-vitrines

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translates, according to my Module 5 professor, to window shopping.*

And this was my main Friday night activity with my dormmate/officemate M today.

As it was Friday, we decided to go home early and not OT our time away. 

I was (is, constantly) feeling restless and asked if we could walk around for a bit. It was a good thing that M wanted to see where Studio Fix (my hair place) was, so we went there, and let the night lead us into the rest.

I'm the type of person that always gets taken in by pretty things: I have pretty low impulse control. This, coupled with my need to explore every possible nook and cranny of every place, has led me to some interesting purchase decisions over the years.

Basically, I never window shop. I pretend to, but I almost always get something.

Among the things that I have accumulated over years of low impulse control are shoes (another obsession altogether, honestly), various dream catchers stationed everywhere in my room, hair pieces that I use for everything but my hair, and even some pretty notebook/notepads combination.

I cannot count my books here, because really, BOOOOOOOOOKS.

I'm like a magpie, only it doesn't even have to be shiny.

Over the years, I did all I could to ease away from my magpie tendencies: I avoided malls unless I had a list, I only brought specific amounts of money with me daily, and I earmarked a specific amount of money for books. 

I have been somewhat successful over the years.**

Tonight was a test of sorts for me, as I was able to rein in spending money on this pair of Ipanema sandals, which I am on my 3rd month of 6th month rule-ing.*** I was also able to turn away from this cute khaki dress, the notion of Fries, and this really fun ice cube shaper that I felt I really needed.

I only spent for food at Tous Les Jours, and we were even in time for their buy one, take one activities! 

Somehow, magically, I was able to turn away from everything, because I knew I would be in BKK next week. 

I am actually saving up and considering my coming activities before my current needs.

It's taking all of me, but I like this slow, steady race towards growing up. :)

*Sidebar (my sidebars have returned!), don't you just adore how Francais is so specific? And so long? :) I promise, this isn't ironic. I really like how the language flows. When spoken properly, it's quite beautiful.
**Sidebar number two: one of my Philosophy professors once said that the irony of not buying anything in malls was rather quiet. After all, even if you didn't buy anything, you paid (fare, gas) to get there. Then there
would parking, food, etc. I like that description: quiet. You always think you only get what you need, then boom. Not at all, not at all, not at all.
***The Six Month Rule: For any expensive item, one must wait six months if it will be worth it. So far, those sandals are shaping up
 to be worth it, harumph.

Make time.

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I write so little these days.

Well, perhaps I should amend that to, I blog so little these days.

My journal is bleeding with my crazy thoughts lately.

But writing has become a bit of a chore lately, and I am not sure why.

I feel all strung out.

I could always fall back on that comfortingly ready excuse - that I'm too busy. But really, I have time to tweet song lyrics at periodic moments in a day.

That should give me time to blog, shouldn't it?

I started this blog in the hopes of working on my writing, as practice, and also as a way to keep up with myself. I never thought I would outpace me. 

And so, it is now back to this, a re-hash of the last few moments of last year, to go beyond finding the time for the activities that matter more.