Some dude sang this Saturday night over cocktails and jalapeño cheese sticks at Masas in Greenbelt 3.

Interesting stuff: some six or so years ago, three people lined up to get their books signed by this writer who wrote something about American divinities (Neil Gaiman, if you somehow miss the synonym). Let's call them Glenn, Matt, and Albert. Glenn was there with another friend Tim, who knew Matt and saw him in line, while Matt got to know Albert because they were in line for 13 hours.

Six years going forward, a lot of things happened. Glenn kind of dated Matt, while Albert dated - and is still dating - a good friend of Glenn's in PeopleSupport, where Albert also worked. So the three met again one night in a place in Greenbelt that is also the name of a part of a house (Kitchen, if you again somehow miss the hint). Glenn was catching up with Matt, while his other friends, which included the girl whom Albert was dating, were on the next table.

I forgot the whole point of this, but while Matt and Albert recognized the familiarity and tried to put faces to events, I thought of sequences of events that lead to grand but also inevitable conclusions. The sum of all our fears is that everything is fated and all effort is futile. I thank you.

So Nikko messaged me earlier re: the puso, and thanks to his kamusta, I surprisingly realized that I haven't been sad the past few days. I'm really not sure why. As far as I know, there wasn't any guy making me smile by calling me princess, no upcoming writing raket that'll take me to Batanes or the south of France and pay handsomely, no lifetime supply of bacon dori from Sumo-sam, no amnesty from credit card company or offer to write weekly on broadsheet on the horizon.

I forgot where I'm going with this. Haha. It's a bit of a stretch to say that I'm happy. I'm not unhappy, perhaps. I recently met up with Reign and reminisced about our wonderful PeopleSupport-STC days; went and stayed the night at the Kule office (without drinking, must be a first) just for the heck of it; finished the American Idol ebook I was writing; and sort of reconciled with previously-thought-estranged ex and planned to get coffee next week. This weekend, there're the readings I've to get for the MA CL exam and the UP vs. Nu championship game I've to cover.

I still don't know where I'm going with this. But best be typing. :)

PS: New crush: Adamson courtside reporter. Kind of cute. Sense of humor. Articulate. Probably has tiny penis.

At about 2am today, there was a guy sleeping in my bed. Which is odd. I've never brought anyone home since second year college five years ago, and that included illustration boards and books and excuses about pretend class projects. I did not tire of casual sex, I started getting boyfriends and having sex at their place - infinitely more convenient and less hassle than keeping a bunch of names and places on your phone book (Jay Katips, Aaron Anonas, Jeff Proj. 4, etc).

( The sorry story. )

So last night, Kris Aquino was talking about Anne Curtis on her show, "Boy, you know what I like about her. She's honest and she's so smart. 'Di ba nga she was the one who introduced us to Paulo Cooelho?"

Hahahaha. I'm not kidding. She really said that. Oh man I laughed so hard like - to pluck a timely example - the time when then Comelec commissioner Ben Abalos' doctor brother claimed he represented a tricycle drivers' party list, and Abalos actually approved the nomination. Haha. Hilarious.

On second thought, The Alchemist is a perfectly fine, smart book. I'm Zen. I'm rising above.

So. I was in a retreat of sorts during the weekend. Well, not really. I left the house Friday night to get coffee with Alan in Starbucks in Matalino, which turned into my staying in their apartment the whole weekend, and going home Sunday night - in the same clothes. Now that I think about it, how symbolic is it that the closest Starbucks branch to UP is in a street called Matalino. Anyway, it was a retreat because my phone was off the entire time and I think we managed to encroach on all seven deadly sins - perhaps except lust, but then we did watch Ang Pinaka Sexiest Shirtless Hunks on QTV - most notably gluttony and sloth.

It is during this period that we decided to be Zen.

Alan and I, we're easily agitated dudes. An offensive waft of perfume, a misplaced modifier, a mispronounced French word, we like to pounce on them. This is partly why we always have a grand time. For instance, we were having dinner at this sisig place in Philcoa last night and since it was university graduation, understandably, there were people there who just came from the rites. Now remind me again why some people would remember to remove their sablay but not their medal? Alan tried to assuage my anger and told me she's probably thinking she deserved it, after four or so years of academic drudgery. Yes, she needed her medal to remind everyone, CUM LAUDE AKO!! and reaffirm herself in the process. Fine, I admit I'm also partly bitter because I had the grades to merit a cum laude but not the penchant for paperwork and bureaucracy to get it (even though I know the university registrar thru Piya, I'm a little ashamed of committing little acts of nepotism).

So on with the zen, we drank tea instead of coffee or soda, and I haven't had beer in more than a week.

Alan and I, we were partly inspired by two of his housemates who were the picture of serenity. In fact, one of them was so serene-looking, he's constantly being accosted by suspicious old men in taxi lines because it looks like you can molest him and the strongest form of protest he could muster was a weak "Huwag po," which should turn on any decent pedophile. Speaking of jail bait:



This is the lord of the record-breaking 18 summa's in the class of 2009, a biology major who will go straight to med and has vowed on national television that he'll stay in the Philippines. Yes, he probably has a small weewee, only because God is purportedly egalitarian in distributing nice attributes. Or maybe he has pyromania.

But see? It leaves me unaffected. I'm Zen. I'm rising above.

Although Alan and I, we were watching SOP and ASAP alternately on their living room (and I was mighty surprised that it could be that fun), and we were stopping each other from hurling furniture at the television whenever some singer would sing a lyric that would hit particularly close to home. We were eating ice cream, listening to love songs, and dissecting the sorry state of our love lives. We concluded that perhaps the reason why such good fates befall other people is merely that - luck - and why we escape them like some people miss their flights - sometimes due to bad luck (harsher traffic than usual, alarm clocks not working, anvils falling on heads), sometimes due to personal faults (too much time in front of mirror, booze the night before, taking EDSA during rush hour) - is also due to luck.

And that's really something we can't control, ain't it. Zen.

YAY! I FINALLY GOT SOME! HAHA.

Validation. Or sex. Or validation via sex. Whatever. After a whopping three weeks. Actually, I think I got more than I bargained for. He told me I looked like an angel while sleeping. Haha. That my eyelashes were 'majestic.' That he loved me from the moment he saw me. Naturally, he never heard from me again after last Friday.


Faye, stop talking to me about your hopes and dreams!

Thanks to C-Anne for the (v. belated) pic. I obviously hated the ceremony. And I think it showed pretty well. Come to mention it, a huge majority of us looked bored / pissed. Gotta have this framed.