...

it's his birthday in five days. i've marked it in my calendar last year, and i never took it out. call it needless torture, call it insanity, call it helpless sentimentality. i just didn't really think i should just backspace him out of my life. and yet it seems like i am now persona non grata to him. i have not heard from him in ages, except when i drop him an email asking about the book he owes me.

speaking of which, the book arrived just the other day. which is probably why i am on this little sentimental road trip. it may have started a week earlier, though. after the company dinner celebrating the last day of the chinese new year's celebrations. while waiting for a cab, i decided to use an opening my colleague brought into our conversation. inebriated as i was, i started getting teary-eyed at the mention of the one i had to leave behind - or rather, the one who wanted to be left behind. i blamed my tears on the alcohol. because honestly, i was pretty ok before that. (excluding hormonal swings brought about by monthly cycles, of course.) it was then that i realised how much i was still hurting. i simply shoved everything into the deep recesses of my mind, perhaps my heart, pretending that nothing is wrong. and for the most part, it was true. but once in a while, a bubble breaks the surface, and the reality of the situation manifests itself.

i am suffering from a broken heart.

when i saw his handwriting on the envelope that my book came in, i felt a sharp stab in my chest. then i turned off the lights, closed my eyes and went to sleep. but not before a few tears made their way to my pillow.

he thinks - or thought - i would be going back to london. but he never really wrote to ask. i never really made an effort to let him know. he didn't know when i moved to singapore. he never asked. i never told him. but i asked him to send my things to my sister's home, where i'm staying at the moment. i just let him put two and two together. he's probably not that stupid.

part of me wants to write him a final good-bye letter (more like email) on his birthday. i'm assuming he will think i will remember. (we all know i do, but it won't hurt not to let him know.) a note from me on his birthday, he will assume it is full of well-wishes. but not this time. i wanted to send him a postcard two weeks ago, to make sure it arrives in time. then i thought - why the effort? i know i still think of him, but he doesn't have to know that. all because i have never heard from him since the day i spoke with him on the phone. overseas call. back in december. i get more information from our other classmates than i do from him. then again, everybody else is probably getting the same treatment. but i'm not everybody else. i was his "angel" and "saviour" - words he has used himself not twelve months ago. how easily men forget.

i read through our old emails, and all those hollow, unfulfilled promises he made just kept jumping out at me. i may be biased, but i'm not stupid. i can assume to be a bit objective - it's been over four months, after all. what i've read just... i am at a loss for words. it underscores his being a complete bastard, and my being a ridiculous martyr. part of me wants to send him an archive of the email highlights, and let him judge how much of a user he was. maybe still is. and i am not alone in this opinion. my other female classmates have said as much. he used me, but perhaps it's not so much his fault because he didn't do it consciously. but does that mean it's right? hell, no.

and he wonders why he can never get along with all his ex-girlfriends. that should be sign enough that he is a real jerk. but apparently, he is also very, VERY dense.

what a grouch.

i hate living with my sister. she picks at every. single. thing. it's almost as if she 1. is ashamed of me, 2. thinks i am a child that cannot be spoken to in a mature manner (hence, the incessant scolding), and 3. believes she is superior to me in all respects (which basically explains the first two points). if she weren't pregnant, and if i weren't such a mature, responsible adult, i would have snapped back at her (or screamed at her) days ago. this just makes me all the more motivated to find my own place. speaking of which...

i realise that it is near-impossible to find a cheap place to live that is close to work. my boss offered to have me stay at his old house in the east side, but my older sister did not fancy it much. maybe because the place is a few blocks away from the red-light district. hm. i myself find nothing very wrong about it. my only inhibitions lie with the fact that we saw men drinking in front of the house late at night. that, plus the fact that i will be living on my own most of the time... not really the most comforting of thoughts. but right now i would rather brave drunk men at my front stoop than a hormonally-imbalanced older sister who has always lorded it over her younger siblings. five years older than i am, and she still throws temper tantrums. i really doubt her ability to be a good mother. but that is not really my problem now, is it? poor kid. that is all i have to say. the baby will definitely need me around for most of its formative years. otherwise, the child will end up psychologically scarred and emotionally maladjusted. among other things.

right. back to finding a new flat. away from the sibling from hell.

to-do list (before i reach 30)

1. learn how to cycle.
2. watch U2 perform live.
3. make my first million (pesos).
4. go back to the City. (and gloat in his face. ha!)
5. be financially independent enough to live on my own.
6. travel to tibet.
7. get published. (not architecture-related)
8. learn (and be fully conversant in) a foreign language. (mandarin is acceptable)
   
9. cross the equator.
10. work as an intern (either in a publication or a kitchen!)
    

20kg

it's a pain in the neck trying to relocate to another city when your luggage allowance is limited to one mid-sized suitcase. when i moved across two continents (okay, one and a half) back in 2005, i was able to bring almost twice as much with me. argh. baggage limits were more lenient then, before all those crazy terrorist threats with ipods and fanta bottles. plus, you are allowed more stuff when taking long-haul flights. and i guess it didn't hurt that i flew business class. oh well.

it's really difficult trying to prioritise your worldly possessions. for sure, there are bare necessities that you shouldn't go without. but i wonder how many shirts and trousers i would need for the meantime, not to mention shoes or sandals. then there are the objects of sentimental value. they're not exactly necessary, but they're important. factor in unknown return date, and you have a very tough maths problem.

(X shirts + X trousers + X footwear) / Y months = 20kg ± 10%

moving is great. it's the packing that gets to me.

hangover without the alcohol

sakit ng ulo ko. leche.

i had tea at 5pm yesterday, at the coffee bean & tea leaf. and i wasn't able to fall asleep until 4.30am this morning. when i opened my eyes it was half past nine, and i realised i had a shitload of calls to make regarding my flight out later this week. so i forced myself out of bed despite my pseudo-inebriated state.

sakit rin ng tyan ko. ugh.

i'm going back to bed. i've done what i needed to do. wake me up when it's 5pm.