Or, alternatively, the October 22 entry
So I was thinking, I better have something nice for my October 22 entry, since it marks our first month together – we all know how crucial first months are, considering my last formal relationship barely made it past the 30-day mark hehe. So yeah. Congratulations, who would’ve pegged me for a long-termer huh? (snicker)
And so I finished this entry a couple of days ago, but somehow I felt like it lacked an extra something. So one morning, after coming home from a Silent B-movie tanders session with Rissa and Tere (hehe), it struck me – why not make a podcast out of this entry?
So that was what I did. It was 1 a.m. when I got out my jumbo headset that thankfully had a microphone (parang pang-call center lang!), then I set up my speakers close, so I could play and record the featured tracks (parang DJ lang – have I told you na kung di ako nagtrabaho sa diyaryo e gugustuhin ko sanang magtrabaho bilang DJ sa radio? Okay, overshare) and then I read the segments to the microphone in between tracks. Nifty huh?
It turns out that I sound horrible on record (there goes my DJ dream, I know) and that this definitely qualifies as one of the cheesiest things I’ve ever done in my 22 years, but what the heck. I have no shame. (Sorry, no uploading of podcast, for her ears only – I know, such a tease, but yeah.)
But know that I am as a matter of fact uploading the transcript, plus a zipped file of all the tracks. Yun nga lang, you won’t hear me singing along. Haha.
Chief, chief – Haha wala lang. Tsup. :*
Emiliana Torrini - Heartstopper
At the beginning of the year, I remember writing: Dear 2007 – it was 4 a.m. and I was drunk and online – Dear 2007, I now know what I want for this year: Someone to come home to whenever I’m drunk like this.
The girls and I had gone out dancing. All through the night I nursed a few beers and this very broken heart.
Who knew then that someone was in fact listening? I didn’t, and I started the year the only way I knew how – with alcohol in my veins and nicotine in my lungs.
I started it by holding on to my many vice-related superstitions. I took out a wish stick for every fresh pack of cigarettes I opened, and carefully peeled off beer labels the best way my inebriated fingers could, an absent wish for someone on this alcoholic smoker’s lips.
The answer came nine months later, very much like a pregnancy coming to a head. Now my alcohol tolerance is ridiculously low and I light up the first stick I take out of my pack anyway, wish sticks be damned.
I have a feeling I’ve maxed out my wish bank now; the Universe pulled all possible strings just so it could grant you.
Not that I have any regrets. There’s no other way I would have it anyway.
Stars – Look up
I had never been the sort of person who favored mornings. Too early, I’d said once, and the friend I was talking to shot back with a wry, Which is what mornings usually are, you know, early.
I knew that, of course, and laughed along. I had loved the night for so long; the hours between midnight and dawn, even harder.
But then, you know how people change, and to surprise even my very steady self, so have I.
I wake one daybreak to the sound of a strange alarm. Morning has come, and I look up to a voice telling me about breakfast.
The word has never sounded that delicious before.
Zero 7 – Home
I had never been the sort of person who had a very distinct sense of home.
Or at least, for the past five or so years, home has just been where it was most convenient to land your back upon at night to rest and nothing but. Somewhere to keep things, somewhere I could perhaps freshen up in. But really, nothing too special. The natural consequence of living away from the parentals at an early age, or something.
For a long time, it hadn’t been somewhere I’d looked forward to going at the end of the day, for mostly it had just been an empty room, an unmade bed I could easily slip back into after slipping out of it that same morning in a mad rush, as was the natural consequence of oversleeping due to a hang over.
Of course, things have a penchant for changing, and before I knew it, things around me already have.
At the end of my shift, with someone telling me to hurry home, it still comes to me as a surprise, how it now seems that I’d never wanted anything harder.
A friend had once commented how it feels like I’m already married or something. I smile inwardly to myself, thinking, yeah, I might as well am.
Joshua Radin – The fear you won’t fall
I had never been the sort of person who often wore her heart on her sleeve.
Or lately, at least, this held true; scalded one too many times, I’d taken down my heart from the outside and put it in my pocket.
The thing about feeling this way was that there’s always that chance it wouldn’t be returned. This was the major issue all along – a somewhat selfish intent to ensure reciprocation.
Only I was so close to breaking.
The only thing I could ever be sure of, an old friend had told me once, was how I felt. Indeed I harbored no such illusions of holding another person’s feelings in my hands.
She said all I could really be sure of was when I was ready. “You can’t really expect yourself to predict when she would be,” she was quick to point.
And so I pondered.
That was how I knew it was time to come clean.
When the certainty was so overwhelming that expression mattered so much more than reciprocity.
The Sundays – When I’m thinking about you
I had never been the sort of person who was used to being attached.
For the longest time, I moved alone, going through all my activities and accounting only for my own schedule.
I was, for the longest time, the sort of friend you’d call whenever a date canceled or whenever something came up and all the others couldn’t make it on short notice. I took pride in that, the fact that I was easily available. (at times even very much so, to the point that I was so prone to get taken advantage of, sadly.)
And so, odd how now, I find myself planning ahead, a careful matrix of schedules in mind. The sensation is so new I sometimes have to pause and reconsider if this were all a dream I’d eventually wake up from.
Sometimes you still feel like so much of a dream.
Well if you are, my eyes are staying closed.
Soraya – Suddenly
I had never been the sort of person who planned ahead.
For the longest time, I was used to impromptu things. Wanna go to that concert at the Fort? When is it? Tonight. What time? In an hour. Sure.
And I don’t even feel the need to change my clothes.
So, granted this was the sort of person that I was, living only from one moment to the next – could you just imagine the delirious notion of merely having all these lists in my head: Of things I wish to do with you, of places I wish to see with you, of sounds I wish to hear with you, of every little thing I wish to experience with you even as I had already seen, heard, done them before?
I tell you, sometimes I feel like my mind’s so full it feels like exploding, a glorious spray of colors and lights, velvet and vanilla, hums and roars and so much more…
John Mayer – Come back to bed
When I moved out of the house, I bought everything in two’s.
My aunt had asked, why not just buy one?
I just said, how gloomy would that be, to foresee I’d be alone forever?
So when I bought a bed, I insisted it should be wide enough for two.
My aunt had asked, what for?
I just said, you never know.
I didn’t tell her I was adding you to the equation.
The Cardigans – You’re the storm
I had never been the sort of person who loved storms.
Certainly, I’d come across people who preferred rainshowers to the sun. To be frank, I had always been fascinated with them, for what was it about overcast skies that made their hearts flutter, their minds swirl? I was just a girl scared of thunder.
I took pride in being the sort of person who had a hold on her life; I had no room for the occasional jolts, like the shock of lightning across my window and the pounding of thunder thereafter. I remember the mornings I woke up with my heart heavily throbbing at the roaring of the sky.
It’s different when you’re not alone, though.
After all, thunder was always a convenient excuse to grab the available body closer. Rainy days were always good for cuddling.
The Weepies – Take it from me
I had never been the sort of person to shy away from pain.
Really, while I would not be the first person to boast of my incredible pain threshold, scared as I am of needles, I do have tolerance for other kinds of pain, to the point that certain people have gone so far as to describe me as a masochist. Not that I would put up a fight to deny this, either, because it was true.
And so when the opportunity to get a little hurt again by the prospect of, believe it or not, love – I willingly stuck my neck out, ready for the slice.
For what was the sense of love without a little sting?
In my head I wanted to sing out, Come on, take it from me as well.
I remember you told me once how much you loved the motto, Live dangerously.
I remember having asked back, How dangerously have you been living? To which you replied with a coy percentage or something.
I knew then for a fact that I was teetering on the edge of something. If uncertainty could kill, it could have very well killed me.
Dangerous, but yes, how seductive.
Evermore – this unavoidable thing between us
Funny how some things just don’t register when we look for them too hard.
Maybe that was how you didn’t notice at first, how I had been there all along.