dishwasher safe

and UV resistant

traffic light 101

by my four-year old nephew:

Red is for?

Stop!

Green is for?

Go!

Yellow is for?

Faster! It'll soon be red again!

posted by: giuli at 06:04 | link | comments (1) |

stupid

can't even follow a simple instruction.

posted by: giuli at 12:35 | link | comments |

I gave a mini acoustic guitar to my nephew who turned four yesterday. Am I slowly becoming the doting, single-for-life, (soon) cat-petting aunt?

posted by: giuli at 10:35 | link | comments |

at the south station

"Counting Blue Cars." Nope. Try "Counting White Buses Going To The Provinces While Freakishly Huge Mosquitoes Feast On My Nape And Buzz 'Round My Ears."

There. That's more like it.

I am waiting at the passengers' area for my co-worker and his friends, and have probably played all the apt songs in my head while I am at it. We have earlier agreed to meet at 9 P.M.--I came here running at 8:45--but it’s way past 10:00 now and they have yet to show up. How I hate waiting. And don't even get me started with people who are late for meetings whose time and place they did set to begin with.

Is it hiking season? There’s this large group of mountaineers to my left and an even larger one across from me. I hope they’re not going where I will be 'cause that will be too damn huge a crowd, and I will not like it.

A shiny silver mug dangling from one guy’s backpack catches my attention. Is this the mark of a true-blue, seasoned hiker? My gourmet spreader from Mom, pair of HBC-bought scissors, and red Daddy flashlight suddenly remind me of the wannabe that I am. I knew it; I should’ve brought a cup. And a rope. Just because I like to one-up people.

A mid-to-late-30s woman approaches and looks toward my general direction. She looks like she wants to take a seat, but there's no more room so I take my backpack, which is taking up the whole space to my right, and put it on my lap. The woman sits down and strikes up a conversation with me. No, I’m not with these guys... Baguio, then Sagada... Yes, I know, but I don't want to go to España for the bus to Banaue... No, it is my first time to go there... I am on my own... No, I don't know anyone there... No, I’m just acting brave, really... She disagrees and tells me that it’ll be good for me. Where will I stay? At St. Joseph’s. Yeah, it’s nice and cheap, she says. Is she from Sagada? No, but nearby. I try to ever so coolly project that I have a foolproof plan for my virginal solitary travel to the mountains.

But she does not seem buy it.

She excuses herself and proceeds to the phone booth. To contact her Sagadan friends, I make a guess. “There’s this crazy woman going there alone. Look out for her. She looks like she might try to kill herself or something.” I hear her coins keep diving straight and clanging at the bottom of the change receptacle thingamajig whatever as soon as she's inserted them. She gives up all hope of getting through and goes back to her seat.

Meanwhile, they are still nowhere in sight.

Take my number and contact me in case of trouble, she says, any trouble at all. Why, of course, I look troublesome. I key the digits into my phonebook. What’s her name? She's Kat. Hi Kat, I’m Giuli. I'll text you when I get there, thanks.

And they are still nowhere in sight.

I quietly watch the mountain boys across from me. Or stare at empty space, which I am really wont to do.

Am I okay? I nod and smile. I add that I’m waiting for my co-worker whom I’ll take the bus with going to Baguio and that from that point on I’ll be just with me and my lonely self. And it’s just that all this waiting business is making me antsy. She’s waiting for someone as well. So sit and wait, we do.

After some time, Kat finally gives up on her companion faster than I do, and leaves, never to return again.

posted by: giuli at 08:29 | link | comments (1) |