#dianeblog

[closet-rapscallion]

Midriff

—Life update, 12/03/2018

Decided to revive this account. Think I’ve lost almost half of my internet friends here since I was last active. Anyway, I’m going to write long sentences again and keep them all in one place.

Last Saturday, I wore a crop top. It wasn’t really a cropped top per se, because the cut wasn’t that high. It was one of those tops that only look like you’re slightly teasing, to the eyes of those who are, you know, willing to be on the end of some harmless tease. 

I‘ve always liked wearing that top because, I don’t know, I just felt powerful. And light. And, okay, sexy. But the last time I wore that, I was in a better shape. Last night I wore it and I didn’t think much about how much belly fat I’ve been allowing to grow around me. So I spent majority of the time covering it with my cardigan. Because I was conscious about how some eyes (belonging to people I was talking with) wander lower than where people usually (and should) fixate their eyes onto when they converse. 

Then it hit me. I’m surrounded by men. Men with tummies, too. Big tummies. And I don’t see any woman shifting their gaze lower when they talk to them. Why should I be bothered? But I was. And that sucked. I do not body shame these men, so why should I body shame myself? Why should I deprive myself of the comfort and peace of mind that these men (who I’m actually having an easy, okay time with, minus the body anxieties) are enjoying? It’s no longer my problem if they notice my belly and slightly get turned off by it. I know I’m not bothered when I’m by myself. Why should I be bothered when I’m with others? 

This is not to say that I will continue to grow my belly. I intend to eat healthier. And I’m starting to! Again. Because this may sound mentally unhealthy but, I am much more confident, much more productive, much more effective, when I know I feel fit. So I am going to get rid of this belly. Again. But I refuse to do so just so I can wear a semi-crop top and not be conscious about judgy eyes. No. I will get fitter for me. And while I’m in that process, I will not stop myself from wearing a fucking crop top. Men can (and should) just choose to not look at it just like how I choose to not look at theirs. Then maybe we can have some good conversation. thxforcomingtomytedtalkbyeeee

[closet-rapscallion]

August 27, 2015

‘Night Visions’ will go down as one of my favorite albums ever ever ever. I have always loved the profound emotions and majestic-like quality Imagine Dragons incorporates into their music.

Seeing them live was an unforgettable experience, almost ethereal. The production was solid – the lights, transitions, Dan’s voice, the motherfucking percussions. My soul was on fire. I’m not going to attempt to put the whole experience into words, because I know I’ll just end up with a string of sentences that would grossly understate how surreal it was.

I’m just gonna say this: if you have not listened to Imagine Dragons or have only heard Radioactive or It’s Time, listen to ‘Night Visions’ and ‘Smoke + Mirrors’ on loop. Then when they fly to your country for a tour, grab the opportunity. Because this band is the real deal.

(Photos are not mine, for reasons stated below. Credits to my concert buddy, Myles! <3)

--

Side story: Later on after the event, I lost my phone. Possibly snatched by a masamang nilalang from my cardigan pocket as I was gushing to my friend during the after-show high. (I’ve only used this phone for two weeks, after my prior phone was also stolen. This is also the second time that I lost a phone at a concert. The first time was during The 1975′s mall gig last year. So I’ve come to conclude that I am cursed. No more touch screen phones for now. No more phones at concerts.)

I feel a bit shitty though, because to be honest.. it was worth it. Didn’t regret coming to the concert at all. I’d trade a hundred phones for an Imagine Dragons show.

[closet-rapscallion]

Armless

On a dark alley the two nights ago, as I was on a tricycle on my way home from a dinner slash catch-up session with one of my good friends, two men on a motorcycle snatched away my newly minted phone. And with it, they also took away my figurative arm and compass, and a portion of my faith in humanity.

Manila is fucked up, yes, but in the 4-5 years that I have lived in this part of the city, I’ve seldom heard of robbery gangs, particularly those on motorcycles, lurking around here. So imagine my shock when, out of the fucking blue, a hand creeps in the passenger side of the tricycle and grabs my phone away. It took about 1.5 seconds before it fully registered in my head –– I have never experienced being robbed, ever. But when reality kicked in, I quickly went out of the moving vehicle and ran after them like a kid who just got her favorite toy snatched by other kids on the playground. I screamed for help, like a fucking girl. Screamed a few derogatory words, like someone who grew up in the fucking ghetto. We haven’t gotten that far from the mall and the motorcycle actually passed by in front of the mall, but no one seemed to have heard me. There were guards all over the mall entrance, a few meters away from where I stopped running (because it seemed impossible that I could catch them on foot and there’s a possibility that they may be armed), and none of them reached out. Even when I approached one of them, the only thing I got was a cold direction to report it to the nearest police station. But doing that seemed futile because it was dark, I couldn’t give them any distinct lead –– a plate number, description of the fuckers, etc. Plus I was too busy being shocked during the whole chase (i.e., I wasn’t thinking). I thought I could catch them. I thought the dozens of people exiting the mall could somehow do something to impede the motherfuckers. But the world is round and I am stupid.

So, I am now devoid of a smartphone. I feel like one of my arms just got chopped off. That phone literally contained my life, especially during this transition phase where I’m trying to sort out my career path. It had all my contacts (I had job interviews scheduled the following day, and I was also waiting for updates on other matters), my photos, my notes and organizers (for someone who is a self-diagnosed obsessive-compulsive control freak, this is a big fucking deal), my food and exercise log, my checklists (from the urgent matters to the mundane things e.g., movie watch list, restaurants/events checklist), my literary drafts, my journal –– my fucking life map.

I’m the type of person who likes to have her ducks filed neatly in a row at all times, so losing my phone to thieves felt like a tsunami washed over those ducks I was trying really hard to keep in line.

I went home, soaked –– both from the rain and the tears. (Ew, haha.) Thankfully, I had a friend who calmed me down (I was so close to screaming at those dispassionate mall guards). Plus I had my mom’s number memorized so I called her right away. The phone was their graduation gift to me, just a little over two months ago. I felt like shit, hearing her say that it’s okay and what’s important is that I wasn’t hurt; I wanted her to be more angry at me. I wanted her to tell me that I should’ve been less complacent.

But after a few more cries, and rants to close friends, and after an emotional rewatch of 1D’s Where We Are concert DVD, I was somehow able to semi-get over it. C’est la vie. Shit happens but life goes on. Earlier today, as I was on a taxi from a job interview, I heard news about more serious robberies and crimes in the Metro. And that helped put things in perspective, too.

So I guess I’m okay now. I still went through the interviews (and got offers, yay!). And I’ve realized that I may have lost a figurative arm, but that’s okay because the thing about figurative arms is, unlike real ones, they can actually grow back if I want them to. Though I think I’m going to stick to paper planners and text-and-call phones for the meantime.

[closet-rapscallion]

June 20, 2014 Pinto Art Museum Antipolo, Philippines

[closet-rapscallion]

June 1, 2015

So, it finally happened. After four long years of confusing thoughts, soul-crushing defeats, tear-stained pillows, overeating, overstressing, oversleeping, undersleeping, self-doubts, self-pity and so much more, I've finally reached the finish line.

But I'm well aware that this is just the start of another marathon - a marathon that will, without a doubt, be tougher and a hundred times more challenging and exhausting than the race I just recently emerged from. I'm scared. And frankly, all things held constant, I wish I could just take a gap year right now. A year to rest and find that missing piece. But it seems like life doesn't want me to do that. It wants me to keep on pedaling. It wants me to go on and do more.

And so I say, challenge accepted.

2011028423 BS Management Accounting The Pontifical and Royal University of Santo Tomas

[closet-rapscallion]

May

This month has brought in so much positivity and unexpected twists.

I turned 20. I have officially completed my undergrad. Our solemn investiture is happening in two weeks. I passed the first part of the certified management accountant exam. I got qualified for an interview in the best law school in the country. The past days have been a semi-marathon of hangouts and all nighters (non-academic, this time around) with friends and college mates. I’ve laughed and felt genuine joy in the first half of this month more than in January, February, March and April combined. 

But (there’s always a but) I feel stupid because, even after all these good tidings, I still feel so incomplete. And discontent. And still entertaining negativity - the most dominant of which: confusion - as to what I really want to do next after college. I feel left out because everyone else I know seem to have definite paths set on their minds. I feel unworthy, because I know deep inside that there’s not a chance that I would pass that interview for law school unscathed (and if I do pass, I doubt if I have the proper amount of self-confidence in me to even last a semester). Truth is, I’m not even sure if I still want to become a lawyer. 

If it were solely up to me, I’d choose to just take a year off, probably find a stable source of income, help myself understand that I am am adult now (and being one, I should be more decisive and assertive, and learn to fend for myself).

But the train isn’t stopping anytime soon. If I don’t hold on to the hand rails, I might loose balance and completely lose the chance of becoming someone better. So okay, life, my grip is still tight. But I can’t promise that my hands would withstand any turbulence. Tell me if this is really for me. Tell me if I should go out on the next stop.

[closet-rapscallion]

Has it really been just 5 days since he left??? Why does it feel like it’s been a month?

I was right with my prediction. Everything has gone downhill since March 21. (And not just 1D related stuff. Everything else in my life right now is kaput and I have no idea what I want and what I should do.)

[closet-rapscallion]

Random thoughts up in the air

I love flying. I hate the hassle that comes with the procurement of requirements needed prior to the flight (with the immigration, etc), but I love flying. 

I always look forward to taking off, I love the brief but intense adrenaline rush that it causes. 

One of the best feelings in the world is finding out that there’s no one seating behind you in an 8-hour flight, because it means that you can adjust your seat all the way down, guilt-free. 

Recently, I’ve discovered that I’m actually not afraid of heights. Just afraid of falling. Looking down through the window whilst kilometers away from the ground is pure bliss. Even Manila is beautiful from afar. 

I still get giddy when the plane reaches the point where it’s even higher than the clouds. For a few hours, you’re literally taken away from all the mess happening down below.

I love window seats, especially those that are exactly next to one of the plane’s wings. It’s fascinating to watch how they work and realize that planes are actually pretty vulnerable; if just one part ceases to function, everything’s fucked.

I love planes that turn off all the lights mid-flight, and it’s nighttime so they let you keep the windows up, and you can clearly see the stars - a rare thing for someone who’s living in a heavily polluted city. 

I’m not sure if this is an unpopular opinion but I also love airplane food. And red wine. I love red wine.

In contrast to #2, I don’t like landing. Especially if you’re in the middle of a good film or playlist, and you’ve gotten too comfortable with your position.

I love airports in general. The array of food, people hustling, the spacious comfort rooms, duty free, handsome pilots... the whole “everyone looks tired and haggard as fuck but the positive vibes are still alive because they’re either on their way home or to an exciting trip” aura.