6 hours from now, it'll be New Year. Do you feel it? How can I when news regarding who's who for president in our poverty stricken country is selling better than pancakes? Add the rantings and ravings of media people, political analysts, problems regarding kidnapping, endless graft and corruption, fire that killed hundreds today, grieving relatives oh never mind! Eventhough I don't want to think about it and I wanted to be blind about these things, I can't.

Enough said.

Meanwhile, before I say goodbye to 2003, I would like to take another look at the year that was - the things and people that had me humming and drooling, that had me cheering and running, that had me talking etc.

Career... Before, I thought that saying it quits to my first company who gave me enough headaches to last for a day would be hard for me because of the perks. READ: big moolah, freebies ( chocolates that gave me bulges, dining at a nice resto, goodies at the pantry....) Notice that they're mostly about food. Maybe that's why I've stayed. But anyway, after months I got crazy and I was disillusioned that I'm going to make the cut to the place of my dreams. The military camp. Do you think they had me running for them because of the cute guys and the Herculean training? Uh oh. Nah. All the while I thought that I'm going to be a pilot. Yup. A pilot. Pretty big dream huh? But guess what, I didn't make it. I didn't make it because it was my choice not to push it. Too bad. What? I chickened out? Uhm. Yah I guess so. Who wouldn't be if you were told that you've passed everything but you have to bear the brunt of the 29 guys that you're going to train with for 2 years? Remember the movie G.I. Jane? It's like that. Man, I don't think I'm going to survive if I'm the only gal left. As in. Even with 29 cute, smart and crazy guys. Besides, aside from my parents and friends who were telling me to axe that stupid dream, the military officials I've met said that I won't survive. Physically that is. I don't have the muscles of the man. Yes. But I have legs that can run 3.5 km for 15 minutes. Maybe I'm too charming, maybe I'm too hyper but I do know that I can carry that tiger look "look". Well, on the other hand, I don't think that I can manage to say goodbye to my quirks... hitting the mall, fashion and trends, friends etc. Those were the top reasons why I've chalked military out of my dreams. Add that to my broken promises, shattered dreams list.

Friends.... This year I've discovered who my real friends are. A change of religion did the trick. I used to sing with this cool, talented, guys and gals in our Catholic community. Aside from being a bunch of party animals, they were with me during my sober, duh, blah, funny, bling-bling moments etc. We trek a mountain during the beginning of the year, have roadtrips, pig-out sessions, swim to an unknown place, make new discoveries and just keep on singing and making beautiful music. But after saying goodbye and after hearing indifferent shrieks of what's?! and hello's, are you kidding?! with that group and after singing for 5 years with them and after telling them the reason why I'm quitting, the President said "You're dumber than a one year old." Yuck. He compared me to an innocent baby? Goodness! The others said that it's just a phase. Some have ignored me completely. Others said that they're going to miss me. Two of my former choirmates didn't invite me to their wedding and one has changed her mind to get me as her daughter's godmother because of my new religion. Well..... let's see. Anyway, I did sing with them last Christmas Eve and during our stint in midnight mass. Call that charity work. But maybe, they did miss me. I was invited albeit I've thought hard if I'm going to sing with them or not. I did and I loved it. I really miss singing with those guys. Though I already have a new church, a new family and a band to sing with, I might going to sing with them again once in a while if I'll change my heart. and that's not soon......

Love.... I never thought that I'm going to fall head over heels but I did. Okay. Scratch that. I had a major crush with this smart, witty, funny, caring, charming and all the nice adjectives from Mr. Webster's for a guy! Funny but yes. Good thing that I didn't blurt it out to the guy because I will be killed on the spot. Why? He's married! Oh no but yes. I've known from the start that he has a happy family but I kept on liking him. He's nice to me. Really. Also, he's older by 15 years and a pilot. I don't know why I'm smitten to older guys. An older guy who loves music, the arts, street smart et al is a sure winner.

Books.... "Tuesdays with Morrie", "Harry Potter", "Living, Loving and Learning", "The Alchemist", and those that are written by Nicholas Sparks, John Grisham, Jessica Hagedorn, Conrado de Quiros, Paolo Coelho, Dr. Albert J. Bernstein, Jessica Zafra and were endorsed by the famous Miss Oprah had me jumping and dancing to the R & B slashed soothing music in the nearby bookstore.

Hair..... I had mine relaxed then straightened and had treated it with spa, wax and hot oil. No thanks to the Taiwanese pop group who came here along with their flower printed shirts, over styled quirky clothes, and cheesy songs. I hated my hair. It was wavy and freezy. Famous shampoos and conditioners didn't help. How sad.

Music..... christian ( the Hillsong Music!, Don Moen et al.) or gospel, jazz and classical music are my fetish but along came alternative and punk rock.

Shoes.... stilletos, stilletos, and more stilletos. It's hard for me to live without wearing heels. Ouch my legs? Believe me, they're still great ha ha! ;p But of course, my friendly flats and snickers are the alternatives.

Style.... It's still the classic, clean cut for me. Frills, chiffons, halters and funky tops are reserved for a party. Uh oh, suddenly I remembered to hit the gym because I'm getting "bigger" and my sexy get-ups show my bulges. It's not that obvious because I'm tall but geez, I'm still getting bigger. Body conscious? Nope. I just wanted to be healthy.

Wow. I think this entry is pretty long. I guess I'm already lulling you to sleep. I'm going to hit the restroom. My cousins are coming. Better prim and change quickly because the clock is ticking for the New Year. Happy New Year bloggers! (",) Let's celebrate it with style, resolutions and with God on our mind.

So, what's a poetfreak? Perhaps a freak, with hair hanging whips with thorns on the sides, surrounded by people with lots and lots of spare change..... One of those regular freaks that you normally see in town fiesta, beside the ticket booth for the Ferris wheel. Or perhaps, a poet with the divinest of souls and the dreamiest of eyes, drawing eternity in an hour. Or perhaps, both save for the thing about eternity. One cannot always be perfect.

What can be going through a mind of a poetfreak? We can't really be sure. Sometimes, the minds of these poetfreaks are hard to read even from their countenance. One could not tell if they were on their way to their death or to their life. They keep their poker faces though they are not playing poker. It seems that these poetfreaks, something is always at stake. Like they are always on a game. Like they've got everything to lose.

Existence? How about it? I guess that is the very thing one notices about these poetfreaks. They need to feel that they are existing. It is not enough for them to be born, be schooled, be married and be buried. They have this freakish notion about existence. They seem to derive most of their existence from both solitude and crowds. Life for them is a pendulum swinging in between two extremes - the I and We. But essentially, each one of them believes that man is a pond alone in this world.

This is how they start their day, these poetfreaks. No breakfast. The mornings are just brief struggles with insanity inside the bus during rush hour traffic. Sometimes, they feel that they are genuinely fulfilled with taste of bitter coffee that lingers in their lips. Perhaps they are health buffs..... or perhaps they are deep inside anorexics that feel the need for security and achieve this through starvation. Maybe, they just don't want to eat.

Hmmm... do you think a poetfreak is lonely? Well, I don't think they care. If one would ask a poetfreak the same question, he will probably laugh. Hard. He will probably answer that everybody is just lonely, and that the best thing that one could hope for is to be distracted. Not an original thought. He knows that he probably got it from one of those Woody Allen films. By the way, who loves Woody Allen?

In the bus, he also think about verses that he can transform later into whole poems. By what standard these verses should be called poems? He doesn't know. Poetfreaks call their works poems. Perhaps it is again the poet side of them that is at work here. But the poems that he thinks of in the bus are the ones he forgets about later. And in the room alone but with the suburban sounds of tricycles and dogs barking, he finds himself unable to write anything.

Some nights, he lies awake thinking of the afternoon that has just gone by. Sometimes too, he is insomniac and he tries to write. Perhaps poems. Perhaps stories. Anything. As long as he writes something, it does not really matter what. He is awake for god's sake. Remember that thing about the man being a pond alone in the world? Well, he thinks of that and then he starts to feel marvelously awake, as if his whole brain had just been jolted with caffeine......

Thank god I'm not a poetfreak. I'm just a 22 years old normal being who's happy to blog here. But hell, I love coffee and riding a bus.

I was stupefied a while ago when I've realized that hell, my room is pretty neat. My room is a place where all things are met... in all their diversity and incongruity. It's the seat of faith ( where sometimes I do my devotion ), it's the seat of commerce. It's the bastion of enlightenment, the wasteland of superstition. It's the stage for politicians and entertainers ( my friends and choirmates ), it's the refuge of eccentrics and artists. It's the wellspring of lofty thought and speech (?), it's the pit of pollution. It's the reminder of the past, it's the augury of the future.

And that's my room.

I would like to be mushy today.... Thanking all those people around here. Why? Well, it's 4 days before New Year. So there.

To my parents....... whose faith moved mountains, gods and what not, in that ascending order of difficulty. ( strange that they're included in here. lol! )

To banzai descent. Whose mastery of, and passion for, his craft is a joy to behold. ( admit it. )

To pulp, whose visual and literally savvy is an enigma.

To haze... whose effort to be strong through rain and sleet is simply promethean.

To momma calgal whose generosity is as stunning as her talent.

To datakeeper whose eye is unerring and whose presence is reaasuring.

And call me St. Marie anytime......