I never expected me posting a photo of all the campaign materials I collected
during four years of Shale Campaigns
would trigger a shockwave of sorts amongst the people I met along the way. Folks from the yellow side - I'd like to think the reds have this problem too, but they didn't really comment on that collection - would beg me to sell them the pamphlets, because they've somehow lost their copies. In Mia's words, "I know a lot of people who's be willing to pay a good price."
I found that hullabaloo really odd. Sure, Ge's predicament - of termites eating his SPOA collection - was understandable, but the rest losing the very things they worked hard for felt really weird for me. I mean, they're the ones who drafted the contents, laid out the photos, had it printed and gave it away to supposedly apathetic students. Now, the candidates, the core and the ground workers don't have reminders of their hard work? They themselves?
No, I don't mean to sound angry. I meant it to sound a bit ridiculous. But honestly, for someone with an ego as needlessly battered as mine, the idea of people actually coveting something I own - something that others would consider as trash - warms my heart. But I still insist on my stand: they're my only souvenirs from four years of being "doggedly passionate" about student politics, and I'm keeping it.
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"Except for a feminist classmate that I have who says men are the 'demons in a girl's life' and that men are 'suffocating', you're the only one who told me that outright," Katia
said in an email four years ago
. "Am I so bad for finding this uncommon? And a bit weird? Well, maybe just because I'm the exact opposite kaya
I can't really see things the way you see it. What's weirder is you actually like somebody right now naman
so I can't say that you're the male counterpart of manhaters."
I don't remember what exactly I told Katia that time. The first time I read the email I had this puzzled look in my face: when exactly did I tell her all those things?
Reading the email again, I still can't remember what I said, but it's probably something about me making a certain person's life complicated because of all those guessing games. (I bet Kizia didn't bat an eyelash when I buckled under pressure back in first year.) But that's beside the point. Yes, I'm a guy, and I believe we are the inferior gender.
I'm not really sure how I reached this conclusion. All I know, from the two decades I spent professing love and trying to get some back, is that we guys live for love. So much, in fact, that the moment we don't get it, we pretty much slow down. So we resort to, uhh, temporary measures, and when that isn't enough, we reach a halt. And after all this, we're not supposed to buckle under pressure. Oh, we're strong, and we don't care if this and that dumps me. Plenty of fish in the sea!
All while the ladies have slumber parties and talk about issues.
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I always pass by the Shang
on the way home. I always pass by the second floor atrium, where something always happens - either I see familiar faces seated on the fountain, or something as morbid as this
More often, of course, there are the planned events. And since the Shang is not your usual mall, the events are not your usual pop-by-and-see-what's-going-on events. Sure, Ariane
and I once did that, when Basil Valdez had a concert
and we decided to kill time by watching from the fourth floor, already squeezed with people who don't have tickets.
That is, perhaps, the only exception to the rule. More often than not, the events held there are the really upscale kind. A choir recital, a fashion show, or the usual cocktail party, celebrating the launch of some exhibit or some film festival. Sure, I can view the art at my own choosing, but the launches are something else altogether. Once the barriers go up, you know it's for the people who supposedly worked their asses off to be considered "ridiculously well-off". Or the people who get to tag along.
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Hey there, Gwen
Have you ever struggled with carrying a tray full of food from a stall in a food court, navigating the space with lots of people, and getting to your table safe and sound? Have you ever tried doing it alone - which means you have to navigate the space, already loaded with lots of people, while looking for an empty table to settle into? Yes, exactly.
I'm used to that - I've told you many times before, I have lunch alone - but today was particularly hard. The stall I ordered food from had run out of those combo plates, so my meal came in three separate plates rather than one. Throw in my utensils, a plastic cup full of iced tea and a larger-than-usual bowl of beef broth, and you can imagine how slightly scared I was.
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While going through my somewhat unruly magazine collection, I realized that the two copies of GQ
I bought were released on the same month.
Two years ago, I found myself killing time at that humongous Fully Booked
branch at Bonifacio High Street
. I was going through the magazines when I chanced upon the (then) latest issue of the magazine, with Megan Fox on the cover, wearing a bikini and sticking her tongue out, on a stark off-red background. And it was a thick issue. The snap thinker in me figured it'd mean a lot of things to read during those nights when I couldn't easily fall asleep - but of course you're spending half of your six hundred bucks on advertisements that aren't relevant to you. I bought it, and realized that the cover photo was hot - and only the cover photo. The rest was a bit off-putting, pretty much what Megan is.
A year ago, I found myself killing time at some magazine stall at the Alabang Town Center
, thinking to myself, I will buy a magazine since I've run out of things to read.
The latest issue in stock
had Olivia Wilde
on the cover, and while she's someone I never really, particularly cared for, I decided to buy the issue anyway. Yes, there was a point when I told myself "she's hot, isn't she?" - and that thought kept me through the realization that at the time, there was a much newer issue
. (I don't watch Mad Men
, so I'm not really familiar with January Jones.) The issue was much thinner, but the cover article was interesting, if only for the juxtaposition of seeing Olivia almost naked and reading about her marriage to an Italian prince. She's married to an Italian prince! What the heck?
I almost wrote about it, but the thought never really came to me.
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It will take me a while before I can say I'm really confident of my driving. Despite my weekly trips to the car wash, I still mess up the brakes when I hit the humps, and I still need someone to spot me when I park the car in the garage. But I'd like to think I'm getting a little better. A little better.
I know I'll take a huge step towards driving maturity when I no longer yell something like "I survived!" once I return home.
That's pretty much what I did this morning. I headed to the car wash by myself: I usually head out with my dad, because we have two cars to have washed. Today, things went a little different: he was busy watching tennis, and I asked him the car wash question at the wrong time. On the upside, I wasn't going "will I survive?" when I pulled out the car and took the two-minute drive to the car wash.
I know I said "car wash" many times in those two paragraphs. I'm running out of things to write about, don't you think?
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