To start with, I need to say that I never really did get the whole blogosphere barkadahan thing. I still don’t. I blog because I like to write. I blog because I like to be read. I blog for me. (My friend Monica shrieked a few days ago, “you’re soooo self-absorbed”. The same Monica who is known to say things like, “Hah? She doesn’t like me daw? What’s not to like about me?”) Nothing against blog eye-balls and blog conferences and what-have-you, but it’s just not my thing. I don’t see blogging as a way of expanding my social circle. In fact, it has only very recently sunk in that when you put up your blog, complete strangers can actually read your stuff, and not just your happy little barangay of friends who have known you for years and who get your premises. I don’t belong to a blog cyber community. The community I know and love is made up of people who have seen me drunk, remember my haircuts, and have tasted my carbonara.
This very long introduction is by way of saying, I’m only doing this tagging thing because well, Gari said so. Gari “tagged” me, and Gari is my friend. At madali naman ako kausap. So, ok, here it goes —
Tagging for Beginners:
- In the 8 facts about [name], you share 8 things that your readers don’t know about you.
- At the end, you tag 8 other bloggers to keep the fun going.
- Each blogger must post these rules first.
- Each blogger starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
- At the end of the post, a blogger needs to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
- Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
Jae for beginners:
1. I have my wake all planned out. Assuming of course, I die in the general vicinity of “now” and not when I’m someone’s cackling grandmother (wait I already cackle). Ayoko ng butong pakwan and zesto na hindi malamig. I want popcorn served in big wooden bowls. I want rugs and big pillows on the floor, not chapel pews. If I died in a manner that did not entail exorbitant medical expenses, my sister can break open my piggy bank under my bed and serve everyone salmon sashimi. I will come up with a playlist in due time, but I have a dont-playlist, topped by the song “Candle in the Wind”. I don’t like flowers because I don’t want a funeral smell – make a donation to Bondoc Pen instead. Someone will work it out. Oh, and I want a movie corner where all my favorite movies will be played. Like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
2. I like going to Quiapo to get my fortune told. I am strangely drawn to these middle aged-women seated in front of the Quiapo church, and I cannot resist approaching one every single time. I know I am being taken in for a ride, of course, but I find strange solace in a toothless lola fingering the lines on my palm, pretending to unlock the secrets of the cosmos. They all tell me I will go “abrod”, one said I will marry a foreigner, yet another said I will end up with a seaman. I smile, listening to them give me what they think I want to hear. During the last part, they ask me to make a wish. And that is the part I always look forward to. I have the same wish every single time.
3. My childhood hero is Nancy Drew. There’s nothing deep or introspective about this fact. It simply is… true. I was obsessed with the Nancy Drew hardbound series. In St. Scho, our library had a lay-away plan where we could buy books by plunking down a few pesos each day. Because I would start the lay-away plan on Monday and wanted to get the book by Friday in time for the weekend, I would prepare a sandwich at home for baon so I could plunk down my entire daily allowance.
4. I would love to have a lesbian experience. You know, just for coolness points. But I can’t. I’m not wired that way. Bring a naked woman in front of me and I wouldnt know what I do, except probably just compare our “assets”, the competitive girl that I am.
5. Whenever an ambulance whizzes past me, I always stop and say a prayer. I am a spiritual person, but I don’t automatically pray when I get into a crisis situation. When bad news reach me, I don’t immediately turn on my direct line to God. I fumble for human solutions first. But there is something about the sound of an ambulance siren that makes my heart constrict in my chest. A teenager who got shot, an old lady who suffered a stroke, a man who broke his hip, a child who nearly drowned, a bleeding girl in her twenties – it could be anyone, anything. Whatever I’m doing, I stop for two seconds and pray that they reach the hospital in time.
6. I’m not ready to buy a malong. I love the whole NGO community and everyone in it, and really, let’s all volt in to make the world fairer, but I’m not ready to go for the stereotype NGO look with the tie dyed shirt and the mojo slippers, with native earrings, and a batik conference bag silkscreened with “2003 Conference on Rural Women Empowerment and Sustainable Fishing” or therebouts. I know this could make me sound shallow, and shallow I am sometimes, but I love my skinny jeans. And its not like it costs P4,000.00 anyway. I don’t believe in extravagance at a time of oppression and want, but I still believe in accessorizing. 🙂
7 . Sometimes, action films lose me. Somewhere along the way, amidst the car chases and the nth bombing, I lose grasp of the plot. Same goes with sci-fi movies. I’m a closet Lindsay Lohan fan — at least her movies don’t stress me out. It makes me worry sometimes that I’m not smart enough. Harhar.
8. I love Gus. And I know this isn’t strictly an unknown-fact-about-me, but it’s Gus’ birthday today, so i thought I’d dedicate a number to him. I love birthdays, and I love doing what I can to make birthdays of the people I love special. Gus is one of my loudest, brashest, “funnest” gay friends. He’s my yoga mate who screams in the middle of session “hindi flexible si Jae, nawawalan ng balance”, he’s my sidekick when we want to be mean and catty and irreverent and politically-incorrect, and he’ll grab any opportunity to make fun of what he thinks are my unorthodox choices in men. (“I love you, Gus”, I once texted. “Oh no,” he said, “does that make me old and balding?” To which I responded, “Probably, but it also makes you exceedingly brilliant.”) I love you, Gus. Happy Birthday. I’m glad we’re friends.