There's something about clean slates that get to me everytime. Ergo, the new blog.

Will post the link when it's up and ready.:)

I'm sorry. If you read this, I'd like to make it official: You are humming inside my head. Humming. Do you understand?

What you will remember most from that evening are the branches from the tree that loomed above your pickup truck. There was wine although I could have imagined it. There was an elephant but everyone says elephant nowadays, as if it were something real to begin with. Let's try song or kiss. There was a song in the room. Let's talk about the kiss in this room. A line from a song I 'discovered' a couple of days ago clearly illustrates the feeling: In the back of your car I feel like I have travelled nowhere. Isn't time strange? Once, you believed all those things that you thought kept you standing on your feet and in another minute you are in the middle of government property where are no lamplights. After all, a good story doesn't have to start with two strangers meeting under the most extraordinary circumstances. It could be this; this could be the part of the story where all the endings get stripped away like an afterthought. There were words, many of them. Some I could remember, some I could understand well and cry at. And no one can ever say that we are or that we will ever be sorry for all the things that happened in between that last time in this same car and that moment. There were many good people to meet, many lessons to trip over, vows that we both refused to keep. The tree, you see, doesn't hold any secrets for anyone. It'd be a fine mistake to think that. And if someone loved me at that very minute and if I knew it, I wouldn't have laid my weary head on your chest. And we wouldn't have waited for morning to come before we kissed so that we could see each other, clearly, closely, for once.

There is a part of me that wants her to see the things I write. To let her see that I do something well. That I am not nothing.

Now that I'm older, it's harder to convince myself about my own worth without leaning to one side, watching for someone else's reaction. Sad, yes, but oh so true.

Because I fell in love with Hornby's book, 31 songs, I've decided to resurrect my music blog: http://leopardskinhat.vox.com/

That's it, I guess, for this blog. Nyahaha.

So. I just got home from my wild and wunderbur Which-SSS-Branch-Can-Help-Me chase. Inspite of the fact that I slept at 3am today, I forced my very unwilling self to wake up at around 630am. See, I had to go get an SSS ID because I've been working for 5 friggin years now and I still don't have one and apparently, it's one of the things that normal people consider important and useful so I really had to go. I started with the nearest branch, which was SSS Binan and I was even feeling pretty smug because I got there at 7:15. While I was waiting for the branch to open, I pondered on what I'd do after I got my claim form or whatever it's called. I felt so happy and giddy and gave myself a mental pat on the back for my extraordinary leave-plotting skills.

Then. Then. Then. The branch security guard went outside and barked instructions at us. I couldn't really understand what he was saying at first because it was too early and his enunciation sucked. Manong, okay lang mag-Tagalog. But after some time, we understood that he wanted us to form only two lines: one for claims and one for claim form submissions. I thought that he just forgot to mention the people who were applying for IDs so I came up to him to ask. Then he gestured lamely at a sign posted on the door. It said: NO ID CAPTURE. So I asked him what that meant. And he said, Wala pong ID aplekasyun ngayun. Sa lahat po ng branch.

So I stood there and planned on what I should be doing next. Should I go home or should I go to the Makati branch? So many tantalizing choices so early in the morning! After a few minutes, I reached a decision. I hauled my ass over5 to the bus stop and rode a bus to Makati.

I am a big fan of bus rides. Really. When I was in college, I constantly fantasized about meeting some stranger on a bus, which was of course an extremely romantic and dumb notion that could ONLY be produced by the combination of having watched Before Sunrise one too many times and overactive hormones. Now that was a very long, very unnecessary running sentence. If you feel slightly annoyed by all this, feel free to send me your edited version of this entry. Humor me, why don't you.

Anyway, so the bus ride was okay. It afforded me time to think about certain things that I'd rather keep to myself for now. Anyway.

So it wasn't hard getting to Makati but I didn't know where SSS was. So I rode a taxi and chatted with the taxi driver. All my life, I've never experienced meeting a rude taxi driver. I mean, I've got friends who constantly complain about meeting these obnoxious, impossible drivers and I really never have. Anyway.

So I got there and went from one window to another. Everyone was shooing me off without even listening to everything that I was supposed to say. They cut me off mid-sentence, saying: Doon, sa Window 6. Or 7. Or 5. Gad, I wanted to wreck havoc in that fucking insensitive place. But days like these, I try and behave like a good citizen. Because guess what, if I blow my lid off, will I get that ID real fast? The answer, of course, is a resounding NO. So what would be the point, right?

Anyway, so I get to the final window right and the lady managed to listen to me without batting an eyelash and she said, ever so snidely, that I had to go to the QC branch near GMA7 to get the fucking thing. All I wanted to do was collapse right then and there. How'd you like that, Ms They Got Me Dirt Cheap That's Why I Have To Be Rude To Everyone? And yes, at that point, I was so ready to go home.

Here's the thing, I know how to commute to Makati from Pacita. I know what I should do to get from Pacita to QC. What I didn't know was how to get from Makati to QC. So, I'm a bumpkin, big deal.

I first told the taxi driver that I wanted him to drop me off at the Pacita/Alabang Bus Terminal near SM but I changed my mind at the last minute and decided that I'd go to QC instead. I was thinking, I was in Makati already and I don't know when I'd be able to take another leave just to go to the main office and it would be a shame to waste all this time. The nearest MRT jeepney terminal he said was in MOA. I reall didn't want to take the MRT. I've only ridden on it once and never wanted to do that again. I want to humor you and say that I'm generally very prissy but I'm not. I just find all that proximity alarming. I can't take being physically close to someone I don't know.

So there, we headed off to MOA and when we got there, I gave him the only money I had left, which was a P500 bill. He said he didn't have any change for P500 so... he let me go. For free. That ride cost him P120. The kindness of strangers, really.

Then. Then. Then. I rode a jeep to the MRT station but like I said, I didn't have any spare change on me so the driver gave me a free ride too. I couldn't do anything about it so I just graciously thanked him and kept saying my mantra (I am a child of the universe) to myself so that I wouldn't feel so guilty. I mean, two free rides? Even my friend P doesn't let me off that easily anymore.

So. I got off when I saw buses going to Ortigas (I really, really wanted to ditch that impending MRT ride) and rode a bus. I got off at GMA, walked a little, rode a jeepney and arrived at SSS at around 12:30pm.

I haven't eaten anything all day. In Makati, I bought 5 Max candies and that's all I had to eat. No water, no nothing. I was a person on a mad mission; I couldn't afford to miss one SSS minute.

So I went in and boy-oh that site's BIG. Have I died God? Have I gone to SSS heaven?

So I got a number and filled up my form. My number was 772. I strained to hear what number they were calling, fearing that I'd hear a 10 or a 9. But since I was there, I really had no intention of taking off, even if I had to wait 'til evening to get through. But lucky me, the last number they called out was 560 so I figured I just had to wait a little while.

And from there really, all I did was relax and wait. I don't remember a time when I had as much pleasure waiting. I just people-watched, which is something I've actually missed doing. And of course I looked at the employees and couldn't imagine how this kind of set-up could be normal for anyone. I even felt a bit ashamed, really. I get to talk to 35 people a day at most and I complain about how tough my day was. They had, I guess, over a thousand people in that building but still they went on. No snide remarks here, just tired faces.

There was this one employee who really caught my attention. She smiled a lot and tilted her head coyly when she asked customers questions. She really lit up that area, seriously. And I promised myself that I'd be like that tomorrow. I hope I remember that promise.

Anyway, so when my number was called, I felt so giddy, like I won something. Hahaha. So I went up to the teller/employee and told her a little about my day. And she told me this: that I don't need a friggin' SSS ID to get a loan because I've already made enough contibutions.

Fuck. Don't you just love me? Don't you feel attracted to my obvious talent for making the most stubborn decisions, my misplaced willfullness, my endearing knack for not ask the questions that do matter?

Don't you just love how fucked up life sometimes is? Those times when all you can say is: Dang it. How conceited is that? There are 8 billion people in the world and I have the gall to even think that this is going to be my day? Fuck that.

So there. I'm dreadfully exhausted. Now I'd like to know how your day went. Tell me, please, that it has been as bad as mine. Humor me. Send me a postcard with a lipstick mark on it. Then tell me you love me, do. What I really need is a barf bag, though. That'll do for now.

My passion for language is one thing that I have always been vocal about. But sometimes, I feel so betrayed by it; that inspite of these words, I can never really tell you how I feel today, or how much I want to know about death, or why I think anger is necessary for one to keep on living.