A Little Clarification

I like girls, I truly do. I like looking at their curves, at the lovely way their necks slope into shoulders seamlessly. I like looking at how full of curves, and angles, and little bumps they are. I frequently wonder how it would feel to run a hand through their lustrous curls, for example, or kiss soft, smooth cheeks. I relish staring at how well they fill out dresses and jeans. But put those pitchforks down, villagers. I am not a lesbian. I like girls; I like them a lot; but I like men more.

I like men. I even like Dr. House. No, that’s not quite right. I am half in love with Dr. House. In the afterlife, I am going to marry Dr. House. I will have the time of my life coming down with all sorts of diseases, preferably the type that lets me look fragile and heartbreakingly beautiful while I listlessly lounge in bed in flimsy silk. He can happily spend his time diagnosing me, and we can limp our way towards a glorious happily-ever-after.

Dawn Dancing

The nicest thing about marrying a guy who’s dotty about you is being able to wake him up at five in the morning because Robbie Williams’ Beyond the Sea is playing on your Winamp and you feel - yes, feel - you just have to have this dance with him. He’d be tired and bleary-eyed, but he’d still look at you with love in his eyes. He’ll dance with you like you asked him to, and then he’d ruffle your hair and tell you, "Can we try doing this during the usual waking hours?" Then, he’d kiss you, drag himself back to bed, and leave you in front of your pc with the giggliest, silliest, fuzziest feeling at the pit of your stomach.

It’s exhilarating to be loved this way.

Dear Future Self

You wonder if others see you like you see yourself. Would they smile if they knew you tap away on your keyword to the accompaniment of Disney soundtracks? That you fantasize of being Mulan, Belle, and Ariel? Would they think you’re a silly, silly girl if they found out you’re still gung-ho over Hitler and how a man as small as he stirred an entire nation into a domination frenzy? Would they be stupefied to see the trail of push pins you’ve stuck into a world map, each one representing the country Hitler took with very little effort? Would they tease if they knew you fall in love as regularly as you change clothes; your heart flipping up, down, and sideways not just for men but girls and brilliance and stories and sights and sounds and the wonderful smell and feel of summer rain?

I guess they cannot tell, just by looking at you, what a scaredy-cat you are. You’d much rather spend all your time at home, watching TV, reading books, aimlessly clicking your way through blogs and websites. Darkness scares you. So do roaches, ghost stories, and eerie midnight sounds. You still try to push vegetables off your plate, of course, and you’d still much rather swallow your own spit than drink milk. You turn ghostly pale every time you need to cross the street by yourself. It’s strange, your fear of Cebu’s streets. You’ve been in the city for six years yet you still haven’t made its little alleys and dust-covered streets yours.

So yeah, you wonder when the seeming and the being would converge. Others take one look at you and see an adult. You look at yourself in the mirror and see your 16-year-old self grinning impishly back. It seems to you you’ve a host of selves, and each one is as strange as the other. Perhaps, you’re not a real person at all. Perhaps you’re simply a set of expectations and impressions, strung together so vividly and tautly they sometimes seem real.

Dear future self, you know how upsetting turning 25 in a few days is for me. I am taking a break from life. Should you need to find me before the 25th of this month, this is where you should go look: somewhere over the rainbow, where troubles melt like lemondrops high above the chimney tops.

Chin’s Guide to Self-Evaluation

I’m happy to report that I’ve had an eventful summer: I went to the beach twice, saw movies thrice, slept only four hours daily on weekdays, and learned how to sleep in style during lunchtime - with my little feet curled ever so daintily under a voluminous skirt and my oversized glasses hiding a mouth that gapes wide open while I snore.

I also brushed up on my communication skills. I spend an average of two to three hours a day barking out instructions, arguing instructions, or creatively ignoring instructions in such a way I appear to be carrying them out, nonetheless.

I am now infinitely wiser, thanks to online tests. I take them at least twice a day. With just a few clicks, I am able to discover things about myself most people need to reach middle age to learn about. For example, I now know that I am 80% evil, that I am destined to rule the world, and that in a past life, I’d been a genius herbalist in France who died by decapitation. I also know that my celebrity alter-ego is Madonna, and my twin peaks are named Dessert and Dinner. Moreover, I have exactly 790 karma points. I’m not certain how I earned those, or how they are computed, but if a site online says I have oodles and caboodles of good karma, who am I to argue?

Oh, and I am also a lace bra.

If you want to be on the same road to self-discovery as I am and learn, for instance, what kind of soda you are, then this site will be your mecca.

Remembering Pick-up Lines

I rarely remember pick-up lines mostly because while talking to would-be boyfriends, soulmates, or boy-toys, my mind wanders. This one, however, sticks out in memory and makes me smile, so much so that I kept it all these years.

It reads:

To Chin of TC,

I am the Way, the Truth and the Light. Come with me and I shall be your Guide.

Ah yes, I always knew the Bible is a font of wisdom, a treasure chest of useful quotes for all occasions. If I were to make passes of the same theme, too, I’d settle for: "Let’s make miracles together!" Or, "Come to me all ye who labor and are heavy-laden for the yoke I will give ye is light and lovely."

What about you? Which pick-up lines do you still find yourself chuckling over even after all these years?