Artist Date: Massage ???

I dislike getting massages - I'm a very ticklish person, so I can't bear having someone else touch me. The only time I got close to having a massage was a series of myotherapy sessions to treat a month-long stiff neck. Ugh. But for my very last date with my Inner Artist (or perhaps the last to be documented; I intend to treat myself more often), I decided to take the plunge. My parents have massages twice a week and insist that at their age, it's a necessity. Why not start now? Although I can't say I really enjoyed it, it did feel good to crack my muscles and joints afterward. I'm thinking of making this a semi-regular activity. 

Artist Date: Threading

I used to love waxing and all forms of hair removal. I would go once a month to wax underarm hair (gross, I know) at a salon in Rockwell. I dunno, I guess I'm a masochist that way. I loved the rush that I got after that one second of searing pain. But more than that, the smoothness of the skin left after all the hair has been cleared out. But ever since i got my underarms lasered, I was prohibited from waxing again. The dermatologist said it would make the hair follicles multiply or something. So, goodbye waxing. But today I went and treated myself to a bit of threading at Lay Bare. I won't mention what part of the body I threaded, but it felt goooood. 

THL 6

I am writing this entry in the school library, even though the Cybernook is closed. I get access to the Graduate Computer Section because I have special privileges in DLSU. I can park in the faculty parking lot behind Miguel Building. I can also sign for food that I eat in the cafeteria. It turns out that a very large chunk of the property on which the university stands was donateed by my great-grandfather. However, there was some legal dispute over the land (my parents don't like discussing the details with me) and the school administration just decided to pay off its net worth. Part of the agreement was that any descendants of my great-grandfather who are to study in DLSU can avail of these privileges as partial payment for the land.

THL 5

I'm the youngest of four siblings. I have two older brothers and one older sister. But I might've had four siblings at one point. My eldest brother was born with two ears on one side - one normal one and an underdeveloped smaller one attached to his lobe. The doctors said this is indication that he had a twin at one point but that one was absorbed into the embryo that became my brother. Sometimes, I dream about this mystery sibling. She hovers at the edge of my consciousness, a tall, slim, protective figure. I can never look at her head-on for some reason, but I know she's my sister. 

THL 2

Last summer, I got pretty obsessive while job-hunting for OJT. I must have applied to over 30 companies. It's really easy because job search sites like Jobstreet allow you to post your resume online, and all you have to do is click away. I interviewed at around 12 different companies. Some of them thought I was applying for regular employment, and offered me 5-digit salaries right away. I had to turn them down, because I could only work for three months at the most. 

THL 4

Our dog is named Simba. We named him so because The Lion King came out the year we got him and we really wanted a cat. He looks nothing like a cat. He looks more like a very small, hairless bear that got squished in a jar. You can't imagine how smelly pugs can get, but I give him a shower every week to keep him smelling fresh. 

THL 3

I've fallen down countless sets of stairs. I have to admit, I'm a really clumsy kid. I even fell off a chair and had to be rushed to the hospital because I injured my tailbone. The doctors said I would need several weeks of therapy to walk properly again. Thank goodness for yoga - it got me back into shape in no time. 

THL 1

I've met celebrities several times. That was one of the perks of having an ABS-CBN executive as a  dad. One of my favorite celebrities to meet was Drew Arellano, though I didn't meet him through my dad. He was a panelist in the Search for the Ten Outstanding Students of Makati. When I entered the room, he said "Ah, pretty girl naman". I'm guessing it was because most of the other candidates were guys. I'm just guessing. After the judging, we had a group pictorial with the judges. Drew called me over and told me to stand right beside him. It was one of my most kilig moments. 

The Secret Life of Grover the Bench

Grover didn't mind the rain. Really, he didn't. It brought him back to the lush, green leafiness of his hometree. When he was left out in the rain, he tilted back to allow it to splatter all over himself. But his owners would come out and tut-tut, as if watermarks were a bad thing. 

His feet hurt from standing on concrete all day. The best moments were when he got to stand in the garden. His little bench-feet loved soil. 

Artist Date: Guiltless Chocolate Cake and Tea

This Lenten season, my sacrifice is to cut down on carbs, pastries and fried food. But for my artist date, I just had to break it for one day. This afternoon I found chocolate cake in the fridge and I decided to treat my inner artist. As a kid, my ultimate favorite snack and dessert was chocolate cake with white icing, made by my yaya. Sometimes she would make it especially for me when I requested it. This particular cake was made by my sister-in-law, and although it wasn't exactly the same, it was pretty close to the original. The sponge cake was very moist, but it had a tinge of orange zest. I dislike orange-flavored chocolate. Or fruit-flavored anything. But it was really good and my sweet-deprived IA loved it to bits. I even scraped my plate after to gather the leftover icing. 

The tea was for my grown-up self. I guess its warmth and antioxidants made me feel less guilty about consuming so many calories. But to be honest, it was unnecessary. I'm not one to beat myself up for my occasional indulgence. 

The Secret Life of Hirohito

Hirohito was a Samurai. At least, he had hoped to be reborn as one after a mediocre and dull life as a clerk in Osaka. His main tasks were to sort through mail, discard junk and forward messages to their recipients. A highlight of his day was flagging a letter or memo as "High Priority". He often got papercuts from tearing open envelops all day. He hardly remembers how he passed away now. It probably wasn't a very exciting story. 

Now he is a letter-opener in the shape of a samurai sword. Or more accurately, a katana.

Karma's a bitch. Really.

The Secret Life of the Tolentino Study

The house is almost empty. The lady of the house is in her bedroom playing Bejeweled. That will keep her there for at least another hour or so. 

Clara stretched her arms over her head and heaved a big yawn. Being a clay statue is harder than most would think. By day, she had to stand completely still. But by night, she was designated the official entertainer of the Living Room objects. She was the only one with human features and limbs, though she had a flat base instead of legs and feet. Nevertheless, she could still cut a rug. 

Her owners had bought her from Sonny Tolentino, son of the National Arist Guillermo. They suspected that she was made by Sonny, to be passed off as a work of his father's. But Clara knew better. During the day when she was in her meditative state, she would have flashes of recall about her life before becoming a statue. Thin, nimble hands kneading and patting her vigorously. An experienced touch shaping her curves and prominent cheeks. Searing heat as she was cooked in an oven. But she didn't mind. Clay is well-adapted to heat. Then a long period of isolation - she felt abandoned, as if whoever created her decided to leave her unfinished. Then one day, a clumsy hand splashing black and rust-colored paint all over her. Slathering varnish all over her baro't saya. And then she was on display, being admired by potential customers.

The Secret Life of Fara the Faucet

It wasn't the leak so much that bothered her. It was the rust. 

Fara rarely, if ever, complained. She came from a long line of bathroom fixtures, from that brand you knew you could trust. But working in a house with forgetful old fuddy-duddies and one sloppy son was beyond her training. She was constantly in need of repair nowadays, but her owners were too cheap to pay a proper plumber. Mr. Marquez would attempt to fix her up himself, or squeeze some putty around the edges to temporarily stop leaks. But there was always that dampness, and the ever-present rust.

The Secret Life of Bessie the Couch

Groan. Another tiring night. Why does Mia always fall asleep on me? I understand when she has to do an all-nighter and working on her bed is a no-no. But on regular days? Am I that much more comfortable than her bed? 

Bessie stretches her legs and fluffs her cushions. Her frown deepens as she notices that her dust skirt is wrinkled again. Her throw pillows are a little worse for wear as well. There are visible stains on one - from who-knows-what. At least they've changed the covers from the green plaid to the white floral this week. White really does show off her curves. 

That girl has to find herself a laptop fan. She's always setting her MacBook down on me when it's overheating. It can't be good for my blood pressure. Good grief. 

She can't wait until the family retires her and switches to a more modern, minimalist model. 

The Secret Life of Jam's Pillow

Eww. Jam forgot to shampoo his hair again. Good grief, you'd think he'd learn to keep proper hygiene now he has a girlfriend. 

Somebody needs to change my pillowcase! It's certainly not going to change itself. There are drool stains all over me. 

With a thud, the pillow heaves itself off the bed and onto the floor. Shuffling through used socks, it made its way to the bathroom door. It slowly inched up the sink to face the mirror. 

Where have the years gone? When I was brand new I was fluffy and light, and pristine white. Now I'm lumpy, blotchy and an ominous shade of yellow. 

The pillow could feel it. The time would soon come when it would end up in a bag with relief goods, or worse - in a refuse pile. 

Artist Date: Makeup time!

I rarely played dress-up as a kid. I dunno, I guess I was too busy reading books and having adventures outside. I was intimidated by makeup until college, so I'd only wear it during weddings or debuts. In first year college, I finally bought my first set. It was a pretty cheap brand that I could fool around with, without being too wasteful. I've been fascinated with makeup ever since. I don't wear any on a daily basis (primarily because I don't have any time in the morning), but I think my inner artist loooooves experimenting with different looks when I go out. For my artist date, I bought myself new foundation and a new shade of green eyeshadow and went wild. My first look was pretty dark and smudgy, so I removed most of it. I tried going for more clean lines and a good blending technique. I loved the results so much that I'll probably use it during my next party. Yay!

The last time I heard confession...

...was too long ago to remember. Wait, maybe it was in high school, during one of our retreats. But I remember telling my confessor, Father Edwin (our class was pretty close to him), that I felt like I was on a religious plateau. I was extremely religious at the time - I was active in faith organizations, headed morning prayers in class, attended mass regularly. I thought I was near sainthood. But then college came. From my sociology and philosophy classes I realized that the Church and religion are nothing but social constructs humans create to project our seemingly impossible ideals. But humans can achieve those ideals. We can BE the überman. Since then I've come to look at all rituals with a critical eye and pretty much weeded out what I don't think is necessary. Confession is one of those, and so is Sunday mass. I only attend mass now when it gives me the opportunity to be with my family. Otherwise, I like to go to a quiet place and just be with myself for a while. I still believe in a God, and I would still like to believe in the historical Jesus. I don't know if he was divine or not, but I bet he was still pretty badass. 

The last time I went to Boracay...

...was after high school graduation, with my whole barkada. There were about 40 of us from my all-girls school and about 40 more people from various all-boys schools. Everyone was a familiar face. I felt like we owned the island. We stayed for five days. Having been with my friends pretty much the whole time, I never got wasted. I love that my friends are all pretty wholesome people who know how to have fun without getting hungover the day after. We went banana boating, skimboarding and rode a paraw at sunset. It was the best summer of my life. 

The first time I watched a musical...

...I fell in love with musical theater. I think it was The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by Trumpets Philippines - or at least this is the earliest I can remember. My sister and I also joined summer theater workshops in Trumpets and Repertory Philippines for a few years. It was exhilarating. I love how musicals can portray the most mundane events in the most whimsical way. And how people just burst into song and dance without batting an eyelash. And how a shy, soft spoken kid (believe it or not, I was shy back then) could disappear into a totally different persona with the help of a few well-placed lyrics and notes. In the world of the musical, nothing is ordinary. 

The first time I wore skinny jeans...

...I could hardly breathe. I was so happy I could finally hop on the bandwagon. It took some courage to wriggle into those things. But the first pair I bought were in the wrong size and length. They kept falling down past my hips and I kept tripping over the hems. 

But I'm pretty used to them now. I've bought more comfortable pairs that make me look and feel good. I was quite hesitant to join in on this trend at first, but through the years I've come to love them. 

The last time I danced ballet...

...was in Grade 3. I stopped because I didn't want my feet to end up like those girls in toe shoes. Talk about U-G-L-Y. But I've secretly regretted it ever since. Two days ago, I tried Barre3 classes at the Spa. It's a combination of yoga, pilates and ballet bar exercises. It was painful and tiring, but I loved every minute of it. I'm pretty sure I'll be going back. 

The first time I ate wasabi...

...was a bad experience. I put way too much in my soy sauce. It was a light, muddy brown. I placed the drenched sushi in my mouth and instantly my eyes started to water. Pain shot up my nose. In a few seconds my face was completely red. I quickly downed a whole bottle of water, but that just made it worse. My mouth was on fire. 

The next time I ate wasabi, I put just the right amount. I've loved it ever since. 

Baby Shampoo and Powder

Most baby products like shampoo, powder and Cerelac remind me of my niece, Sophie. I still remember how proud I felt when I was asked to be her godmother. During her baptism, I wore pastel colors because that's what I thought ninangs should wear. True enough, majority of the godparents were wearing baby pinks and yellows. Before the ceremony, Sophie needed to have her diaper changed. For some reason, I didn't find her poop as smelly as adult feces. I guess it's because she only drinks milk and non-solid food. After changing, she smelled as wonderful as ever. I took a sniff of her hair and it was like sticking my nose in a cloud or cotton candy. 

Nail Polish

One of my most memorable experiences with nail polish was Grad Ball in my senior year. I was part of the organizing committee. That day was pretty hectic for all of us, because we only had the evening before and the day itself to decorate the school gym. I had an appointment at the salon after lunch, but I had to come back again to help fix up. So after I got the prettiest french tips ever, I ruined them spray painting the backdrop for the entrance. But it was still pretty funky - I had hot pink polka dots on my manicured nails. It clashed with my green dress, but I thoroughly enjoyed the night anyway.

Artist Date: Pancake House

I finally did it. I've never eaten by myself before in anywhere other than the canteen or at home. I chose to take out my mini-me to Pancake House because that's the kind of thing I used to enjoy a lot. 

Ever since I was young, I'd have practically the same thing in Pancake House every single time. Spaghetti with Meat Sauce, sometimes with the Best Taco in Town. Recently I've taken to eating pancakes with butter and powdered sugar for dessert, but that's only when I'm really hungry. This time, I ordered something slightly different. I had a Burger Steak Special, which had a side of spaghetti and iced tea. The burger steak was for the curious, adventurous grown-up me and the spaghetti was for my inner artist. 

Next stop: movie date with my Inner Artist! Can I do it?

Betadine

Anything made with Betadine - that ointment you put on wounds, feminine wash - reminds me of a horrible accident in 3rd year high school. Until now I don't like talking about it because it was so traumatic. Long story short, a beaker of sulphuric acid exploded during an experiment in Chemistry Lab. I had 2nd- and 3rd-degree burns all over my right hand and even my best friend sustained wounds on her leg. It was awful. I still feel responsible for it even though our teacher and principal assured me it was an accident. Anyway, the doctor had me clean it wish Betadine wash for months. It was extremely disgusting - I had to lightly scrub my raw skin every night with metallic scented brown liquid. Sometimes bits of skin and scabs would slough off. It still gives me the heebie-jeebies to think about it now. And when I look at my scars, I can remember the searing heat. NOT a memory I like to revisit. 

Safeguard Deodorant

Safeguard deodorant has a powdery smell, almost like bar soap. But from experience, I can tell you that it turns rancid after a whole day of wearing (or maybe it was just my body chemistry). I wore it all throughout 2nd year high school before realizing it was doing more harm than good (I remember being so much sweatier in high school than I am now). My dad still uses it though. Smelling it every so often brings me back to those days when I was 15 and hugely insecure of my looks. It especially jogs my memories of our sophomore interaction with Xavier School. It was the first time we had a chance to talk to boys within a structured school setting. Needless to say, we were all nervous and excited. I was probably the most excited of all, because I was hosting our class' interaction. I had a small crush on my counterpart. I did my best to look pretty that day but one of the things that bothered me the most was that my deodorant gave my uniform permanent yellowish stains. UGH. How inconvenient. Anyway, it went very well. I got to make a lot of good friends whom I'm still in touch with. I managed to survive without raising my arms. I threw away that deodorant soon after. 

Cafe Mocha

Who doesn't love Cafe Mocha? It's the perfect blend of coffee and chocolatey goodness. It's practically the only coffee I like to drink. It smells bittersweet, earthy and creamy at the same time. Cafe Mocha at Starbucks reminds me of (although the flavor is completely different) the first time I had a genuine Cafe Mocha - at the Cafe Du Monde in New Orleans two Christmases ago. (It does sound a bit pretentious, but bear with me here) This drink was particularly memorable because it was the only positive thing after what I considered was a horrible day. We had just left New York, my favorite city in the world, to spend a few days between Christmas and New Year, which we would be spending with relatives in Texas. I was already a bit grouchy when we touched down, but walking around the city made me even more distressed. I suppose there was a time when New Orleans was festive and exciting, but ever since Hurricane Katrina it seems like the people are in a permanent state of depression. At night the streets (especially Bourbon) are flooded with tourists desperate to get completely drunk. A lot of the clubs had pole dancers and strippers who weren't even attractive. All in all, a pretty pathetic sight. To add insult to injury, we weren't allowed in some of the establishments that boasted the best gumbo or po'boys in town because my sister and I weren't 21 yet. I remember I was also PMS-ing. That day was really irritating. The only redeeming factor was finding a table at Cafe Du Monde (after waiting in line for almost half an hour!) and having my very first plate of beignets and Cafe Mocha. After the day I just had, it was heaven. I can still remember the mountain of powdered sugar spilling over my plate and the layer of white sugary dust all over the floor. Mmmm. And the warm drink. Double mmmmmm. 

Ionax facial scrub

Ionax is this exfoliant facial scrub my dermatologist prescribes. It is highly abrasive and has a citrusy, almost acidic scent. I only use it once a week now, but smelling it brings me back to third year high school, when I had really bad acne on my forehead. Back then I would use Ionax everyday. In particular, it reminds me of my trip to Japan on an exchange program. I didn't realize how cold and dry the weather would be. I continued using the scrub for the first few days, even though my skin was extremely dry. After a few days, my forehead started peeling. It was sort of yucky until I realized my pores were closing and my acne was subsiding. I still don't know if it was the scrub or the weather - or a combination of both - that helped treat my pimples, but it felt great. 

Artist Date: Chocolate Chip Cookies

I knew I wouldn't have much time to myself this weekend; I had to go on retreat from Friday and Saturday, and Sunday was the usual chaos of family lunching and cramming homework. For this artist date, I settled for attempting something I often do when I'm bored. I baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies, all by myself. I usually have someone like my sister or helper to assist me, but this time I tried baking on my own. I never realized it could be so therapeutic. Really, watching dough melt and expand in the oven is the most hypnotizing thing. As I licked off the leftover dough from the spatula, I could just feel my inner artist squealing in delight. She doesn't have to worry about salmonella or calories yet. Lucky kid. 

Cat Vomit

* First sentence 

The early summer sky was the color of cat vomit. Or maybe it was just Sophie's imagination. She had spent the entire morning scrubbing the Rhodes' rug after Percy the Siamese had a mild case of food poisoning. She didn't even realize cats got food poisoning. How was she to know Percy couldn't eat tomato sauce? 

Occupation: Cat sitter. Yep, that was Sophie Underwood's official designation as of the moment. She gazed at the overcast sky. Grey and bleak - just like her life. And employment prospects. 

The Fire

*First sentence from "That Summer" by Sarah Dessen

It's funny how one summer can change everything. But then again, hadn't Ellie read enough books to know that? In The Chronicles of Narnia, a few hours could mean a decade. In Laguna, a summer meant a lifetime. 

Ellie lived in Paete her whole life. The farthest she had ever gone was Pagsanjan. Tito Entong took her and her older brother Jackson through the rapids down to the famous waterfalls. They rode in a narrow wooden canoe, with Tito Entong pushing them away from the rocks. 

But Tito passed away a few months after that. And now, Jackson was miles away, working at some call center in Manila. Ellie had stopped her schooling to work at a small craft shop. She and her brother had to grow up that summer. Actually, most of the children did after the huge fire that burned down almost the entire barangay early in March. The rest of the summer was spent recovering their possessions, looking for lodging among relatives (who could barely afford to house their own families), and looking for extra income to tide them over. Jackson and Ellie immediately decided that they needed to help their parents with some of the expenses. 

Silverman Syndrome

* First sentence from "Interview Skills that Win the Job" by Michael Spiropoulos

"Interview Skills that Win the Job" offers an innovative and exciting approach to developing interview skills. This book is guaranteed to boost your confidence and help you sail through any job interview.

Sophie Underwood browses through the Self-help section of Borders. So far, she has bought three books on job interviews. A portion of her allowance (ugh, how embarrassing, an allowance) is dedicated to self-improvement and personal development. But so far, she has had zero calls for a job interview.
This is what it feels like to be chosen last on the team. All her life, Sophie was a winner. Captain of the Dodgeball Varsity, Head Girl, Most Likely to Marry Young Awardee, Miss Northridge High. Well fine, she was a runner-up. But she would've won if stupid Stacey Silverman hadn't broken her ankle. Stacey won from pity votes - Sophie knew that in the hearts of the student body, she was the real winner.

She clamped the book shut with a sigh and returned it to the shelf. 

What's the use anyway. I'll never get a job. I'll probably live off my trust fund until I die.