Interesting. I don’t even remember using this service.

This popped up in my Inbox today:

The following is an e-mail from the past, composed on Thursday, October 19, 2006, and sent via FutureMe.org
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Dear FutureMe,

Have you won a Palanca already? Have you published a book?

Are you happy?

Well, 2006 self: 1) Yes. 2) Yes. (Though Jeremy’s Magic Well was published after winning a contest. I suppose that still counts, haha.) 3) Yes.

The girl who wrote that letter back in 2006 was very lonely and unsure of her talent, but at least she had hope.

beautiful things

I buy costume jewelry whenever I have the chance, and now I’ve accumulated a pile of them. Rings, earrings, bracelets, necklaces. I love them all, but last night I finally decided to organize.

I started collecting simple earrings, studs and the like,

until I fell in love with dangling pairs

These aren’t jewelry, but Jaykie gave me a tin box for them:

The rest of my accessories are now here:

Et voila:

Yay me.

* * *

Every now and then I turn to Etsy. I don’t shop. I just look and sigh and wonder where I can get these stuff at cheaper prices. Ha. (Also, I don’t like paying first before getting my merchandise. I’d rather go COD or agree to meet-ups, or visit the stall myself.) (Also? Some of Etsy’s jewelry are overpriced. I saw a necklace that looked exactly like the one I bought at ToyCon for P150. On Etsy it was going for what? Eighteen dollars? Please.)

All of the following photos are from the site. Go visit.

Sigh. So pretty.


Nice quiet Monday dinner and coffee to celebrate our seventh month together. Spaghetti and potato salad and and sausages and peach pancakes and mango crepe and whipped cream (Pancake House) and espresso java chip frappes (Starbucks). Windy day. Nice day.

* * *

Had a pedicure yesterday morning after an effing long time. I’d be spending time in Bohol mostly in flip-flops and my un-pedicured toenails would look er disgusting. So. I like this nail polish because it makes my feet look pale:

The parlor I went to was just across the street from the building where I live, and appeared to cater mostly to old women. Haha. I was the youngest person there. It was like stepping into another planet.

Ate managed to remove the indelible ink from my forefinger! Finally. I would’ve wanted to subject my fingernails to a coat or two of nail polish as well, but how will I get my money from my pocket without ruining my manicure? (LOL.) Anyone here know of a place where they let you dry your nails before pushing you out of the salon?

catch that story idea!

I’ve set aside Falling Man to read this. Thanks Jaykie for the pressure buying me a copy. Note the lace bookmark. (I make bookmarks out of everything. Folded receipts, shirt tags, etc. This one came from a top I own. I still wear that top – amazingly the subtraction worked.)

I have an idea for a story, but every time I sit down to start writing it just runs away. It simply won’t take shape. Very frustrating. One of these days I’ll sit down in a quiet corner with a pen and my Spongebob notebook (the white, empty screen of my laptop is making me puke) and a cup of coffee and brainstorm until I churn out an outline. (“Outline” is a fancy term I use for snippets of scene descriptions and dialogue arranged in more or less chronological order. I don’t do the academic outline with the Roman numerals and shit, I’m not that crazy.)

Also, I just learned at the PSF V launch (thanks Charles for the head’s up) that my poem, “Tour Guide” (the last poem I wrote before the pesky poetry writer’s block hit), is in the April 4 issue of the Free Press. Yeah, I’m late, I’m sorry, I forget to monitor these things. Hope you can get a copy. :) National Bookstore and the convenience stores (7-Eleven, Mini-Stop) carry back issues; Jaykie and I even saw some inside a Mercury Drug branch. So yes, my poetry can be found inside a drug store, or on the shelf beside the booze. Coolest thing ever.

on fragments

Don DeLillo’s Falling Man. Reading this now. The prose is just perfect.

Yesterday I re-read this piece I had been working on and had set aside for what felt like forever, and lo I still like it. I was pleasantly surprised. Maybe I can finish this thing.

I don’t think I  can write poetry anymore, hm. Everything turns into prose. But meh, the words can take whatever form they want, as long as they leave my head.

dear self,

Consider this schedule:

You wake up at 6 a.m., have coffee and maybe a sandwich, put on your running shoes, and start jogging (jog-walking, more like) at 6:30 a.m. This morning you finished at 7:30 a.m. Why not exercise till 8 a.m? You know, just for fun. Then sleep till around 10:30 then prepare for work.

Sounds good?

Never mind that you’re planning to eat crispy pata for dinner tonight – we’ll work on that later.

Come on, you don’t want to spend a fortune upping the size of your wardrobe do you? Do you?