8/27/2019 ‒
Not important

I have nobody else to talk to about what I feel.

All right, there's my girlfriend. I can talk to her about what I feel. But I care about her so much that I - this makes sense, right? - that I want to protect her from whatever I'm feeling, because it makes no sense, and it's not important, and it's not worth making a big deal out of, or so they all say. This tangle I often find myself in, I don't want her to be tangled in it, too, because when she's stuck, who else will come to our aid?

This is why it's hard for me to believe anyone else who says they'll talk to me if they need to talk. It also just doesn't make any sense. Setting aside my nebulous worldview of people saying things so they look good to others and, therefore, feel better about themselves - think of the logistics. You're not always ready to become a listening ear or a crying shoulder (again, that doesn't make sense). You might be busy with something, or you might be carrying a burden of your own. What do you do with that? Be a martyr and help someone, when nobody is really willing to help yourself?

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8/24/2019 ‒
New bridge

Cebu, like Manila, has an inner-city airport.

Okay, not exactly, but that's down to geography. Instead of building it close to the mountains, they decided to build it on a flatter island just ten kilometers away from smack middle in the city center. Considering how heavily industrialized Mandaue and Lapu-Lapu are now, for all intents and purposes, Cebu has an inner-city airport. But, unlike Manila, there's only really one direction to go if you're leaving the airport for downtown, or at least to your hotel, unless you're staying in Mactan.

I fly to Cebu at least twice a year, and it's become a familiar routine for me now. You stay thank you to the flight crew as you step out of the plane. You either take the escalator - shouldn't we call it a "deescalator" if it goes down? - or, if you're feeling haughty, the stairs. You claim your luggage, after waiting for fifteen minutes or so. You head out of the terminal, and proceed to the taxi queue.

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8/10/2019 ‒
Melting in the dark

It's been raining hard lately, which isn't a surprise, considering it's August. Well, thankfully it isn't a surprise, considering it's August, and we've had unusually hot weather lately, and we really should be talking about this in terms of a heat wave, but the window's passed now, hasn't it?

However, you don't really know from the flat if it's raining or not. I don't know if it's the direction of the wind, or if it's the design of the building, but you don't see droplets of rain on the window glass. You can look outside and it'll just be gloomy, not knowing that it's on the verge of torrential outside.

But it's a huge window, and it's been raining hard lately, and lately, finally, you know if you should worry. For now - I say "for now" because there's construction beside the flat and this view will be obstructed in a couple of years or less - I can see as far out as Antipolo. I can see the side of Pasig I've only been in once, and I can see the queue of people lining up to see Raffy Tulfo. When one of those things disappear, you know it's raining hard. When all of those things disappear, you're stuck where you are, held hostage by what Shalla calls "the Mist".

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8/01/2019 ‒
Lychee juice

I've never forgotten this exchange I had, perhaps fourteen years ago, with a classmate from college.

"You drink alcohol?" she asked.

"Oo!" I answered.

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