Hey,

I found a jimi hendrix CD in my locker. I don’t know who put it there… am not taking it but am only going to copy it to my library. A few lines and I think I like him… hands down.

Sending you one…

I like noisy music, really loud when I need to clear my head and mask the rest of my surrounding. I am an escapist - that’s what people tell me. I keep to my own world and if I chose to ignore everything, I can. Don’t you sometimes feel the need to give in to every anti-social tendency? I am often like that.

I write a lot of rubbish, no? When all I wanted to say is that I want you – here, now! I can conjure a 12-foot image of you but that is not enough. It won’t compare to having your living, breathing body beside me. I want to wrap my legs all over you, my arms on your neck and the rest of myself glued to the rest of you.

There are a million things I have thought of doing to you and with you – a lifetime won’t be enough.

The hoopla is too much. Sure the ideas are heretical (relative to the church’s view) but I wonder why some people find it so disturbing that they would call Dan Brown the anti-Christ.

I don’t even want to discuss it with anyone for the reason that there’s no point in discussing it unless the parties first agree to disagree. An acquaintance was enraged and I asked him for specific reasons. He said he despise Dan Brown for claiming that the ideas in his book are factual and backed by evidences. I told him it’s classified under fiction and he candidly added, “I guess am affected because my parents are so scandalized with the thought of Jesus and Magdalene as a couple.” That explains.

Another friend asked me if I like the book. I answered that I like it because it is very well researched but the story telling part is not so thrilling (and this is coming from someone who have read all of Sidney Sheldon’s books in high school, which does not mean am saying Sheldon is god) and she cut me with, “Critiques are saying it is poorly researched.” Fine. I’ve read parts of the books that Brown based his story on: Holy Blood, Holy Grail and The Templar Revelation – they’re sitting on my reading desk and do you know that Brown offered a more ‘palatable’ theory than what is in those books. I like how he added symbology and history to the academic flavor of the novel — Fibonacci series, Leonardo and the musée du Louvre.

I don’t think there’s a need to prove the veracity of the novel – it is but a novel. When people tell me “Don’t watch the movie if you have a quavering faith because it will shatter all your Christian beliefs,” I can only shrug in response.

Honestly, I never believed that Jesus is not a man. For me he is a very exceptional human being and coming upon this book is one of those things that validate my stand – it felt like the first time I discovered Kant. The book has more positive effects on me than negative. I see Christ’s passion as so much more than the need to prove one’s ego. And to know that he loved like a human being, it made him so much more than what all those catechism and Sunday school extolled.

I am sorry if the Opus Dei is painted in a malevolent shade… they can take it as free publicity.

Yeah, it all boils down to one’s need for a god.

Yes it does. My Santino turned one yesterday. He got his first hair cut and now he looks more of a boy than a girl. He’s got this new toy car and he will be racing with the kids in the neighborhood and their bikes. He toddles a little but is mostly scared of walking alone.

My Una has turned into a full blown tempest… but I am not worried. I’ll worry when she’s a teenager and taller than me but… until that time.

After the party, my friends and I gathered to gossip and whine about our lives. We compared notes on beauty regimen, boyfriend stratagems, money, success and everything else that matters to us. The mood is often light bordering on hilarious, even when we start talking about serious things like our fears, worries and insecurities. These brief tête-à-têtes are always refreshing… why we don’t do it more often, I think lies in the fact that it won’t be that curative if we did it any more often than we do now.

Greatest revelation of the night: an insight into my past life. I was telling them how I wish I could go back to being an anti-social and Ivy told me that she’s really surprised at how I turned out – normal… when I was reclusive in the past.

I am feeling sad – the general BLUE feeling. I will elaborate more on why I am sad.

I rushed to the doctor this morning to have my eyes checked. I experienced redness all over my right eye last week and now it’s gone itchy and a little painful and my vision is cloudy. I thought it’s just another case of conjunctivitis but to err on the safe side since I have been wearing contacts on and off, I went in to have it seen objectively. The doc advised me to see an ophthalmologist. Looks like I have subconjuctival hemorrhage. It sounds a little scary but it’s not actually. I googled it over and found out that it is something that heals on its own but I have to make sure that it’s not something morbid. The queue to Dr. Larazabal’s clinic was more than a mile long. Sigh! I will have to be there early tomorrow.

I am blinking like mad as I type this.

As I was washing my face, a thought occurred to me. I want to be a sex therapist. Imagine all those hunks that you are going to bed. Nyahahar! I know some of you would think along those lines but am thinking more on the sexual dysfunctions that plague each and every couple in this country – the same country where condom is esoteric and people are not so open to the idea of getting it over-the-counter.

And on a similar plane – reproduction and babies, the new Anne Geddes’ newborn dolls are so delectable. They look so real I want to eat them. My uterus is screaming murder. I cannot afford to be pregnant, not yet, not with the current inflation rate. But I will someday and I will undergo genetic counseling so I can have twin boys.

What’s with Sunday? Don’t you hate it, how Sunday flies so fast? Like how you stay up the whole Saturday night and you wake up to find that half of Sunday is gone.

I feel that way all the time. I start out with penned down plans: bake this and that, try thai, find the green dress, sort drawers, change bags only to end up in a myriad of activities so unrelated to my agenda. Such is my chaotic life.

The whole Sunday issue is like chasing Happiness — elusive, illusory. Remember what those sages say about seeing trees for the forest and vice versa; I think I see nothing of that sort. I sometimes miss the whole point because of my nagging fears and worries. Relax, smell the flowers, let the kids be children are just some of the many mantras that I repeat to myself but … I am still obsessed with the mud that got stuck to my boots, am cursing the pollens that gave me the sneezes, the little hands that harbor only god-knows-what germs and various other little paranoidal movie clips that run inside my skull 24/7.

Unhappy Sunday is always followed by Manic Monday… reasons to skip the entire week.