Liv in a Life Well-Lived

Oh geez. My brain feels like salad today --- maybe that’s what extreme house cleaning does to you. I realized I have absolutely nothing to talk about except swifters and wonder brooms. And believe me, I’d rather do hara kiri than bore you with that. I haven’t had time to play Plants vs. Zombies, haven’t decently finished anyone book for a week. All I had time for were select articles from back issues of People Magazine where I drool all over Chace Crawford and Johnny Depp. Aside form that, I was also forced to sit through hours and hours of telenovela since that’s all my balikbayan aunt and uncle want to watch. (Sometimes, I catch myself speaking like Agua perhaps because that show has rendered me brain dead). No, it wasn’t a week for the cerebral, believe me you. Have to do some mental calisthenics this weekend. I’ll somehow find a way to squeeze that in during this weekend’s paralegal training. I mean, if that doesn’t add some brain activity to my cerebellum, I don’t know what will.

Book in Hand: Graceling by Kristine Cashore Song in Mind: I Belong To You by Muse 1. Halo - Beyonce 2. Therapy - Indira Arie 3. Supermassive Blackhole - Muse 4. Why Don't You and I - Chade Kroeger w/ Santana 5. Hush Hush - Pussycat Dolls 6. Too Lost in You - Sugababes 7. This is How You Remind Me - Nickelback 8. Mad World - Adam Lambert 9. All Star - Smashmouth 10. I Run To You - Lady Antebellum

While I was scrubbing my floor to death and dusting my books til the printed letters took cover, I kept my head busy by listening to an audio Spanish lesson (downloaded for me by kini). :D ?Que ora es? ?Que necessita usted? Quiero unas baterias! Necessito informacion, por favor!! Ayudame! I don't know what it is about Spanish that I like so much. Maybe it's the roll of the Rs or the lisping of the Cs and THs which fascinates me so. Maybe it's because I imagine that one day I will travel to Spain and trace my roots in Madrid. There's even a province called Burgos in Spain and I imagine myself strolling down green lanes and fantstic gardens pretending it's all mine. Back in college, French and Japanese language courses were all the rage. Frankly, I don't get it. One makes you sound as if you're choking on snails and the other makes you sound high and extremely angry. But before you attack me with forks and knives, I reiterate that love of a language is highly

You make me want to be normal. Except that I will never be. I have lived my life taking pleasure and pride in being adamantly "AB". I have taken circuituous roads and unknown short cuts just for the pure heck of not walking the road oft taken. I lived a life of irony and oxymorons --- and I take great comfort from it. And now, I am trying to fit myself into a mold which is obviously too incompatible with my girth or depth, in so many more ways than one. I'm allergic to boxes. Or to be more specific, being inside a box. I have spent too much energy bursting out of them for me to suddenly want to crouch inside and pull down the flaps until all light is shut out. But if you are inside, logic fails, and I find myself enduring the cramp and the inky endless night just to be shut in with you. Inside the box, I cannot breathe, but then you smile and I ask myself, who needs air? I wish I could bring you out of the box with me. I try sometimes, but the language is different and un