If it's a good thing to forget

I always have dreams that I can remember. More often than not, they consist of magic. Or something that I don't usually do or consider doing.

There was a dream about Piolo Pascual. Everybody would like to think that he is the Filipino Brad Pitt. I don't know if it matters. I never really think of him. I only looked at him when he was shirtless promoting a condominium of some sort with another celebrity. Why does he have to be shirtless all the time?

To be fair, the dream was really good. It involved some magic and a school. Something like a school being a portal to a more archaic, tribal society where Piolo and I were guests. We only have to cross the gate at the school (which has guards) to be in the real world. And then there is another world which looks like Norway because of the hills and the distance between the houses. Or maybe it doesn't really look like Norway because I only saw Norway in pictures. Nevertheless, I love Norway. If there would be something for me there, I would drop everything and go. That other world was hidden beneath the market which looked like any standard Philippine market. Fish/meat stalls in one huge complex like a maze.

I have no idea how to analyze dreams. But in that dream I felt happy. Who wouldn't be happy beside Piolo Pascual anyway? Ever since then, whenever I look at Piolo, shirtless in his ads (I can't even remember what those are. I just remember him being shirtless in all of it.) I remember that one night when I dreamed of him with me in that tell-tale world.

i think i did something horrible. i think i uh... sent a thoughtless message to my friend of 4 years.

how fucked up could i get? daaaaarn. i can't live with myself.

i once read an article about always being around oneself. like you can't watch movies without yourself. or something to that effect. i'd like to leave myself for a while. i don't know. maybe madonna or britney spears could take over my body for a while and i go to someone else's. that should be nice.

why am i even thinking of celebrities?

Am I really running away from something?

I woke up with sore legs. I didn't do a 5-kilometer run yesterday but it felt like I have been running so long because of the pain in both my legs. I dreamed of a young tiger. I remember clearly how tame it looked until it started to show his teeth at me. Maybe the tiger decided that I am good to eat so he ran after me. 

The whole evening, I was running through the woods, with the tiger trailing behind me. What was I running from? I'm sure tigers don't literally mean tigers because dreams have a whole universe of meanings all on its own. I could feel the fear too. It was too palpable to ignore.  

on the way

remembering him now doesn't make me so sad anymore. wistful at times but no longer sad. how my heart used to feel like it's being squeezed by pacman's famed fist is now but a few mild pricks.

after three years.

Too late?

He was the one who knew what I exactly need every time I am faced with a few set backs. He was the only person who thinks I look pretty when the whole world tells me otherwise. He is my father.

My father and I never had that idyllic father-daughter relationship. I have my own share of 'if only(s)" of him. But this morning, I realized, despite our relationship being not so good lately that I am still capable of worrying about him.

Growing up as the eldest of the brood, I had the unfortunate chance of experiencing and knowing most of the consequences of his past decisions. I had to work all the time to be able to provide for the things that I need in school. Whereas other kids may want to work for job experience, my reason for working was to survive. There was a time when I had to juggle multiple jobs just so I can pay for the things that I need. All through that, my father was a distant figure in my struggle. Even until now.

I was shaken this morning when I was told of his condition. I was on my way to work aboard the jeepney silently mouthing expletives because of the traffic when my phone rang. It said on the screen, "Tatay". Whenever my father sends me messages, he usually just asks about how I am. Thinking that it was another 'how are you' message, I nonchalantly opened it so I can delete it right away. A waste of message memory space, was what I thought.

It wasn't the usual message after all. My father got into an accident while at work. His whole arm and leg was burnt. Horrid images filled me. I know just how much my father loved cleaning our backyard. How else could he do it when his arm is incapacitated? He also loves to scour the market for cheap finds. How else could he do it if he can't walk anymore? Maybe I was exaggerating but distance allows for me to imagine the worst.

For the first time, I wasn't able to stop my tears from falling while in the jeep. Other passengers may have thought of me as a freak but I can't do anything about it. My tears just kept on falling.

I was used to having money troubles. That I can handle. Losing boys, I have also become quite adept. I've had my fair share of terrible losses. But to lose a family member, to lose that one person who might be the only person in the world who understood that instead of words I am most appeased through gestures was overwhelming.

I have ignored my father for so long. Only talked to him when I had to. For while he provided love, he was also volatile.Despite it all, I have somehow understood how having a father albeit vaguely is better than not having anyone at all.

sick again

last week, it was mild food poisoning. now, it's fever, cough, and colds. when will my sickness spell end, really? it's frustrating how i have to buy medicine all the time and stay in bed the whole day just because i'm nauseous.

i also bought an annoying facial tissue for my colds. the smell is so bad i want to barf whenever i had to use it.

crest-fallen

it's been only a month since school started and i'm already exhausted. having to work for long hours is taking most of my energy. i'm just too tired to think about thesis anymore. or other things for that matter. i am also dirt poor, another thing to constantly be worried about.

what do i do? i'm complaining again. i hope nobody ever gets to read this.