still in tune with my 'reality'
|You Are 18 Years Old|
Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe.
13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world.
20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences.
30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more!
40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.
A new pet peeve
Maintaining eye contact. Done that.
Picking up numbers. No problem.
Subtle flirting. Check.
Knowing her essentials. In the list.
Slight touches. No blood, no foul.
Getting along with the parents. Over a bottle of beer.
However, there is still a chink in the armour, British English aside. After that grueling 4-5 hour conversation over landline or 100-peso worth of SMS exchange, I just couldn’t get over the hump. Meaning, in the recent telecommunication trysts I have had, I don’t seem to have the follow through to ensue another marathon telephonic conversation.
If this was basketball, I couldn’t convert in my offensive possession after getting that defensive stop at the other end of the court.
If this was football, my teammate set me up a perfect cross from the side but I couldn’t chip the ball into the back of the net.
If this was volleyball, the setter placed the ball where should it be, but the spiker hesitated a moment and his smash bounced off the net.
Want more analogies? I have two in baseball. Two runs down, one out, bottom of the ninth. The third base coach called for a squeeze play. I was supposed to bunt it towards the first base line so that the runner waiting in third base could sprint towards home.
But the ball ricocheted towards the pitcher and with some velocity at that. I ran towards first base to at least save my skin, but I know that this is not the way the play should work out. Behind me, the umpire at home plate screamed, Yerrr out!
World Series, game seven, bottom of the ninth, three runs down, two outs, bases loaded, full count. The crowd on their feet.
The pitcher coils for what is probably the final pitch of the championship series and of the season. The ball leaves the hand of the pitcher, it is going straight and fast. I call it is a fastball right in the middle of the plate, as if it is taunting me to hit it with full force, which is what I am supposed to do so that it would reach the stands down in center field.
With my heart throbbing and adrenaline running through my veins, I brace for the impact. I hear the crack of the bat. I look up, sighting the trajectory.
Then I feel a gust of wind on my cheek. I shiver as I check my fears in that split-second of realization. The ball is still going up, but it is not travelling any further.
The center fielder is on the warning track, like a predator stalking its prey, waiting for the right instant. Then he jumps up with his glove above his head, he hits the padded wall, and a blur of white stops just as the spot were his glove his at the top of his jump.
He falls on the ground on all fours, rolls away, reaches in his glove, and retrieves a white rubber sphere small enough to be grasped in one hand, but big enough to be seen by the crowd and the camera that beamed it towards the stadium big screen and the millions watching at home.
What now, coach?
Akala mo bagay tayo, hindi pala…
It’s one of those “Kami na, hindi lang niya alam” moments, but it’s the other way around. It’s “Kami pala, hindi ko alam”. Cute, but not quite.
It’s like this. There’s this acquaintance of mine who I met some years ago. One of the first people I got to know since transferring from one green school to the other.
She left for a nursing college in some far-off province in
We had a sporadic correspondence using technology from thereon. Naturally flirty although initially reserved, she made advances using SMS. I just took it in stride, saying to myself she couldn’t bother me outright since she’s miles away.
Then she had internship in the local mental hospital (that’s the National Institute for Mental Health in Mandaluyong for you). We met, we had a tryst. Nothing follows. I said I had issues to settle that time.
After I got my new phone, I had renew contacts with everybody, including her. At that time, I was settling my ghosts with the Hale girl. But determined to move on, I gave her another try.
But somehow, our schedules don’t fit. She’s in Crame when I’m in
We then had a falling out when we argued on what path I should take in the near future, yes, over SMS. A few days later, she SMSed that she wants to break it off.
Tayo pala? Hindi ko alam. Now I know why I keep ending up on a mess the past few weeks.
It’s not that she’s a bad person or anything. She just tends to be… clingy. And the distance is killing me. And the last time I got to touch even a strand of hair from her was when she doing intern last summer.
Now that I realized it, I’m trying to do the same thing to someone who’s a plane ride away (or two days by boat), who’s also taking up Nursing (unfortunately, in a sister school of some deep BLUE something). And I expect her to be ‘accommodating’ to me when the last time we met was when my aunt died which was three aeons ago?
Now I know why this also is ending up as a mess. Karma’s kicking in and it just gave me a 30-yard field goal.
Hell, elaH is Hale spelt backwards
Should have seen that coming when I saw the Mickey D cashier’s nametag. Anything to do with Hale spells trouble. I should know and I should have realized earlier. *insert sarcastic grin*
Now that should connect my recent ‘Larry Laffer’ misadventures since the year started.
Off to the races
I typed this six hours before deporting for Zamboanga along with fellow HF staff Paul, JC, and Jay to cover the PRISAA-Nationals. This year’s Nationals is unprecedented since this would be the first time in three years (that’s how far my history with this annual sports spectacle goes) that there would be an extensive number of events to be held, not counting last summer’s CHEd National Palaro.
I slept at about 1:30am. It’s not that I’m restless, just had a pre-departure conversation with a friend over the phone. Serious but nothing to lose sleep over.
Apparently, the adrenaline was the only thing that kept me awake because I fell unconscious on the sofa while watching
Was woken up by my mom for some last minute reminders at about 5am. Did my last minute packing. SMSed some last minute instructions and typed an intensive step-by-step guide for Viva to follow for the layout of our sports magazine. Then did this.
Last night, I told my companions while buying for tickets, “I may not get sleep later.” Don’t know why I said that. I mean, the last time I rode an airplane, it was bound for
My fear or apprehension, most likely comes from the fact that this is the first time any of us would be going to that part of Mindanao (I’ve been to
Not to persecute our Muslim brethren as war freaks or something, but you’ll never know what to expect when you are at the tip of mainland Mindanao and in a small island just a boat ride away, unrest still occurs.
As early as now I feel lost. I mean, at least people still speak Tagalog in Laguna and Quezon, we had one Kapampangan writer with us when we travelled to Pampanga to cover the 2003 National PRISAA, and I know some Illonggo to keep me alive in
I feel like an Amazing Race contestant trapped in a Roadblock task. Eeek…
Looking at the bright side though, I know of some people willing to trade places with me right now.
Tar Heels, baby!
Michael Jordan's alma mater, University of North Carolina, relied on their sheer depth and talent as they overcame a fighting Illinois Fighting Illini, 75-70.
Raymond Felton made three of four clutch free throws and stole a crucial possession in the dying seconds, holding off a determined Illinois squad who relied on the three-point area to get back into the game. Nevertheless, the Illini missed their last four attempts from beyond the arc.
Saen May topscored with 26, while Felton helped out with 17. Rashad McCants scored all of his 14 points in the first half.
On the other hand, Luther Head (oh I like puns... hehehe...) headed Illinois with 21 markers. Deron Williams finished with 17. Dee Brown (not the NBA Slam Dunk Champion Dee Brown) chalked 12 and James, este Jack Ingram had a solid 11.
You could do a better article than this.
Recalling the past...
It had to come from a Grace. And don't ask. Most likely you wouldn't know who she is. Clue: She's a Benildean who transferred from UST.
We were supposed to have a discussion with her floundering love life when talk shifted to my academic status and my plans in the near future. She has a point, actually.
I mean, here she is having family problems worse than mine, struggling and striving with school. While here I am, mathematically just a year away from graduation, trying to look for work (aka, more trouble, according to her), trying to justify that at going 23, I should be fending for myself.
And what have I done so far? A so-so interview in Diamond Hotel, three missed examinations in Accenture, and a missed interview for a some Medical Representative work in some multinational company located in Makati. Obviously, DLSU-D's Career Placement Office is working double time to spam out our landline number. Going back, not really the "ideal" job hunter.
As I'm just less than week from leaving for Zamboanga to cover the PRISAA-Nationals, obviously I missed the chance to enroll for summer classes. Considering the busy summer schedule HF has, I don't think I want to take the chance of missing a lot in attendance even if professors are usually more lax during these two months of academic ordeal.
Oh well... I hope I made sense.