levity: (evening stretched out against the sky)
The brother brought home crickets from Tiendesitas and it's raining to- well, to fill the ice cream container under the leak in our living room twice over. Crickets! At home in Calasiao every time the rainy season came about the pools overflowed and frogs laid eggs everywhere water accumulated and the whole back wall outside the kitchen porch was filled with crickets, grasshoppers, insects all sorts that sing. There was a time I had to check under my bed for snakes looking for a cool dry place to stay. In the summers monitor lizards went sunbathing on the pool steps and the dogs just dove in. An owl once went through my bedroom window. An inordinate amount of my animal words are in Pangalatok, considering how little I know of the lanuage; to this day I am still amused by the word for mice.

I have animal words in Pangalatok, and I never learned it and I never learned Ilocano either but sometimes they come out in my words anyway, at home, when I'm not listening for them. I meant to write something along those lines a long time ago, when I read that Elaine Castillo article from a few months back, and then again when [livejournal.com profile] cornerflag came out and every story there was like something out of my id, language and land and all the people who've swept through it and tried to marry themselves to the soil, and all the people who will never be able to leave it. The bits of identity you carry with you even though sometimes all it means is that you miss things.

I am tired! I am so tired! I am tired of listnening to the rain and being unable to calm the reflexive urge to offer to start moving things to the second floor, I am tired of not being able to write things anymore, I am tired of having football be the only thing I can ever talk about. What the hell, we're all tired, that's why the fuck we're on LJ. Ignore the fact that I don't know how to generate content outside of fifty thousand different variations on "AAAARSENAAAAL", because it's repetitive, sure, but it's real. I can wail about Arsenal all I like but at least I won't be sick of hearing my voice halfway through my sentence.

I am tired and everything feels like work and I want to spend this sem break sleeping, at the very least, not playing Text Twist at four in the morning in an attempt to make my brain shut up and shut off, not circling around the fact that I am now pretty much A Reaction To That Guy I Fell In Love With, and not being utterly disgusted at how many times I use the word "I", because contrary to popular belief, I am not actually a Salinger character. Okay, no one will believe that, but I don't want to be one anymore. I like not having the courage to be an absolute nobody! Can I just have, like, the requisite mental stability?

Never you mind. The Giants won the first game of the World Series and their Panda got three runs in a game so he's the second non-Yankee to do so! And Santi Cazorla exists! Is there anyone who doesn't like him? If there is, don't ever let me know of their existence.
levity: (daydream team)
I was awake at eight this morning and it felt like a triumph. Never mind that it was because, you know, I didn't sleep at all. Hi insomnia I don't miss you at all.

Things I am supposed to be doing:
1. studying for removals, which, okay, how shit are my choices
2. editing articles for the primer- Sed and Allen, if by any chance you are reading this, I still love you both, no, really, but why did I sign up for this again? (This is my reaction to everything I have signed up for within the past year, including but not limited to the College of Medicine. Please don't take it personally.)

Things I am actually doing:
1. trying to figure out how to survive Arsenal-Chelsea and El Clasico happening within two hours of each other with my sanity, if not intact, then at least only slightly impaired (for me this just means minimal insomnia, moderate suicidal ideations, and as much brain-running-around-like-a-headless-chicken-only-with-half-as-much-sense-and-twice-the-panic that can be dealt with without acting on said suicidal ideations. My needs are few and far between, okay?)
2. trying to figure out how to keep said sanity at manageable levels until time comes when I have to take the removals
3. reading fanfic all day every day
4. kind of writing a TSN Inception AU that may or may not end up a messy crossover
5. not sleeping
6. what is with my life and my choices
levity: (daydream team)
I was awake at eight this morning and it felt like a triumph. Never mind that it was because, you know, I didn't sleep at all. Hi insomnia I don't miss you at all.

Things I am supposed to be doing:
1. studying for removals, which, okay, how shit are my choices
2. editing articles for the primer- Sed and Allen, if by any chance you are reading this, I still love you both, no, really, but why did I sign up for this again? (This is my reaction to everything I have signed up for within the past year, including but not limited to the College of Medicine. Please don't take it personally.)

Things I am actually doing:
1. trying to figure out how to survive Arsenal-Chelsea and El Clasico happening within two hours of each other with my sanity, if not intact, then at least only slightly impaired (for me this just means minimal insomnia, moderate suicidal ideations, and as much brain-running-around-like-a-headless-chicken-only-with-half-as-much-sense-and-twice-the-panic that can be dealt with without acting on said suicidal ideations. My needs are few and far between, okay?)
2. trying to figure out how to keep said sanity at manageable levels until time comes when I have to take the removals
3. reading fanfic all day every day
4. kind of writing a TSN Inception AU that may or may not end up a messy crossover
5. not sleeping
6. what is with my life and my choices
levity: (desire lives in the heart)
Half of the time I feel like I'm walking around speaking Entish. Not really speaking Entish, of course- I can't, for one, and I think I'd notice if I woke up one day speaking in Tolkien's tongues- and this is not a metaphor that would come to me organically, only my dreams last night involved, among other things, reading a song in The Two Towers I'm not sure actually exists, and that I don't remember enough of to be able to check whether or not it does without going through the book. Moral of the story is never to leave your copies of The Lord of the Rings anywhere you aren't, because you never know when you will have to verify the existence of a passage.

Point is, half of the time I feel like I'm speaking Entish, taking ages and ages to say something that is comprehensible to almost no one, if that, but that I couldn't translate even if I wanted to. If I were reading anything new I'd quote from it, but I haven't been reading anything new in a long time, I haven't been reading anything lately except Fellowship and a whole stack of Madeleine L'Engles I know by heart, and I don't know how to talk about anything.

The brother is out to prom and Arsenal play Blackburn later. The parents are out because they accompanied the brother to the talk and dinner Ateneo gives its Merit scholars (they got the Director's Listers' equivalent three years ago with me, so that's six meals total they've robbed the Ateneo of) and they decided to eat out at Eastwood. This time last year the brother was out to prom and Arsenal were due to play someone- you know, it might have been the horrific 4-4 Newcastle game, but I can't be sure- and I meant to watch but didn't wake up in time for and I'd just found A Severed Wasp in Book Sale, so maybe it's a seasonal absolute-nothing-and-attempts-to-fill-it-in-with-Madeleine-L'Engle thing? Anyway, since I don't feel like having my arms pulled out of their sockets by an overenthusiastic pit bull, I'm letting Ribbons out in front, and giving you all music while waiting for her to calm down.


This was originally meant for me and the general audience, and that's still whom the commentary was written for, but it is now dedicated to Guia. Just say the word, and so on. I feel like that's the only thing I ever say in times like these, but this time it's because you will always be much more of a reasonable adult that I am, and so I have to make the immature comments. Not, of course, that it is any less meant.


Track list and commentary. )
levity: (desire lives in the heart)
Half of the time I feel like I'm walking around speaking Entish. Not really speaking Entish, of course- I can't, for one, and I think I'd notice if I woke up one day speaking in Tolkien's tongues- and this is not a metaphor that would come to me organically, only my dreams last night involved, among other things, reading a song in The Two Towers I'm not sure actually exists, and that I don't remember enough of to be able to check whether or not it does without going through the book. Moral of the story is never to leave your copies of The Lord of the Rings anywhere you aren't, because you never know when you will have to verify the existence of a passage.

Point is, half of the time I feel like I'm speaking Entish, taking ages and ages to say something that is comprehensible to almost no one, if that, but that I couldn't translate even if I wanted to. If I were reading anything new I'd quote from it, but I haven't been reading anything new in a long time, I haven't been reading anything lately except Fellowship and a whole stack of Madeleine L'Engles I know by heart, and I don't know how to talk about anything.

The brother is out to prom and Arsenal play Blackburn later. The parents are out because they accompanied the brother to the talk and dinner Ateneo gives its Merit scholars (they got the Director's Listers' equivalent three years ago with me, so that's six meals total they've robbed the Ateneo of) and they decided to eat out at Eastwood. This time last year the brother was out to prom and Arsenal were due to play someone- you know, it might have been the horrific 4-4 Newcastle game, but I can't be sure- and I meant to watch but didn't wake up in time for and I'd just found A Severed Wasp in Book Sale, so maybe it's a seasonal absolute-nothing-and-attempts-to-fill-it-in-with-Madeleine-L'Engle thing? Anyway, since I don't feel like having my arms pulled out of their sockets by an overenthusiastic pit bull, I'm letting Ribbons out in front, and giving you all music while waiting for her to calm down.


This was originally meant for me and the general audience, and that's still whom the commentary was written for, but it is now dedicated to Guia. Just say the word, and so on. I feel like that's the only thing I ever say in times like these, but this time it's because you will always be much more of a reasonable adult that I am, and so I have to make the immature comments. Not, of course, that it is any less meant.


Track list and commentary. )
levity: (true love and high adventure)
They barely speak to each other for the next few days, only the minimum of surface courtesies, requests, responses. "You don't have to come," Zaida says to her mother the day before the Real game. "It's no big deal."

"Don't be silly," her mother says. "Of course we're going." She looks at Zaida, their eyes at a level, then reaches out and touches her cheek. "I want to see you win, too."

When Zaida comes downstairs, bag in hand, boots over her shoulders, her father's in the kitchen. Her mother and Olaya are nowhere to be seen. Their eyes meet, neither of them giving so much as an inch, and Zaida wonders, with a chilly mixture of belligerence and nausea, if he'll stay silent.

But he doesn't. He says what he always says:

"Show them what you've got."


- from [livejournal.com profile] acchikocchi's Origin Stories. It's second-generation footballer RPF futurefic. Hell if that says anything about quality. It's Zaida Villa and football and that thing that would be anger if it did not also involve fighting every step of the way, not giving an inch, and would be stubbornness if it did not also involve wanting like a forest fire. And coming into your own, and family, of course family. I read this fic for the first time yesterday afternoon lying down on our apartment's sofa, and when I got to the part up there I had to turn off the Pad, put it down, and cry. I just reread it, intending to skim it for quotes to attach to my bookmark, and ended up crying again. No one tell anyone I still have a soul.

One day this fandom will no longer be able to sustain my- I don't know what to call it, really. But I'm quits with books, have been for a long time, and I don't even want to think about the one true love (the one that is a person, I mean; I have four one true loves) and the music and the poetry, well, they're there because they're snapshots, they're pieces of emotion and image, but they're not the same as story. And this fandom- when I need to laugh myself sick I can go to @elguaje and when I find myself still awake at is-it-really-four-in-the-morning and furious I can read Settling In and feel all right with the world and when I need to feel human I go to The Distance Between Two Bodies and when I need to get my feet back on the ground and my head back on track it's Hitverse, always Hitverse. I have no superlatives superlative enough. It's not all I have- hardly- but. But.

---

Lost my wallet two days ago, found a hundred pesos in my pants pocket today, went home. Thea Pascasio forced her LRT card on me and I used up the last ten pesos on it and when I found myself short one one-peso coin at the exact-change ticket machine the guy behind me gave me one and when I met up with my mother she took one look at me and bought me coffee. And I smile and say thank you and try to pass it on and I have so much and so what now, what now.

(In theory I know the answer. In practice, not so much.)

---

Happy birthday to my soul mate, one and only. Dear Guia, I'd make the world over in our image for you if I could, but I can't. Fortunately, you don't need anyone to. Here's to you and everything.
levity: (true love and high adventure)
They barely speak to each other for the next few days, only the minimum of surface courtesies, requests, responses. "You don't have to come," Zaida says to her mother the day before the Real game. "It's no big deal."

"Don't be silly," her mother says. "Of course we're going." She looks at Zaida, their eyes at a level, then reaches out and touches her cheek. "I want to see you win, too."

When Zaida comes downstairs, bag in hand, boots over her shoulders, her father's in the kitchen. Her mother and Olaya are nowhere to be seen. Their eyes meet, neither of them giving so much as an inch, and Zaida wonders, with a chilly mixture of belligerence and nausea, if he'll stay silent.

But he doesn't. He says what he always says:

"Show them what you've got."


- from [livejournal.com profile] acchikocchi's Origin Stories. It's second-generation footballer RPF futurefic. Hell if that says anything about quality. It's Zaida Villa and football and that thing that would be anger if it did not also involve fighting every step of the way, not giving an inch, and would be stubbornness if it did not also involve wanting like a forest fire. And coming into your own, and family, of course family. I read this fic for the first time yesterday afternoon lying down on our apartment's sofa, and when I got to the part up there I had to turn off the Pad, put it down, and cry. I just reread it, intending to skim it for quotes to attach to my bookmark, and ended up crying again. No one tell anyone I still have a soul.

One day this fandom will no longer be able to sustain my- I don't know what to call it, really. But I'm quits with books, have been for a long time, and I don't even want to think about the one true love (the one that is a person, I mean; I have four one true loves) and the music and the poetry, well, they're there because they're snapshots, they're pieces of emotion and image, but they're not the same as story. And this fandom- when I need to laugh myself sick I can go to @elguaje and when I find myself still awake at is-it-really-four-in-the-morning and furious I can read Settling In and feel all right with the world and when I need to feel human I go to The Distance Between Two Bodies and when I need to get my feet back on the ground and my head back on track it's Hitverse, always Hitverse. I have no superlatives superlative enough. It's not all I have- hardly- but. But.

---

Lost my wallet two days ago, found a hundred pesos in my pants pocket today, went home. Thea Pascasio forced her LRT card on me and I used up the last ten pesos on it and when I found myself short one one-peso coin at the exact-change ticket machine the guy behind me gave me one and when I met up with my mother she took one look at me and bought me coffee. And I smile and say thank you and try to pass it on and I have so much and so what now, what now.

(In theory I know the answer. In practice, not so much.)

---

Happy birthday to my soul mate, one and only. Dear Guia, I'd make the world over in our image for you if I could, but I can't. Fortunately, you don't need anyone to. Here's to you and everything.
levity: (costume party)
Ang sakit ng paa ko. Sobrang sakit ng paa ko. Walang mas sasakit pa sa paa ko. Pero first place ang lantern naming hinabol namin ni Allison paikot ng UPM para ibalik lahat ng mga bagay-bagay na nahuhulog habang umiikot siya at nakapag-simbang gabi kami kahit na sa Jollibee lang rin kami napunta pagkatapos at nakita ko si Guia, di bale nang nandoon rin si Nikolo Bathan. (Alam nyo naman na mahal na mahal ko kayong pareho.) Kailangan ko nang matulog, pero.

---

I don't know what I will do if it turns out that I will never get to see David Villa play again. I just don't. And that is all I am going to say about it, because Guaje.

---

Our lantern placed first and our drag queens didn't. Allison and I served as the on-the-spot parade repair team; I feel perversely proud that she and not I came up with the joke that went Buti na lang si Patrick yung nasa harapan, may siren tayo, huang, huang, huang. If you need to stop traffic, all you have to do is have Epi bring out his camera. Our IDC group's presentation more or less served as auditions for next year's LadyMed. And as per usual during the class Christmas party I sat at the table we'd claimed and wrote and smiled at all the kids hopping around and singing, and while what I really wanted to do was join them and sing secure in the knowledge that no one could hear me, well, no.

This is how you fall in love: to last-minute panic, scrambling for extension cords and spray paint and double-sided tape, running back and forth from apartment to PGH quad to East and feeling lighter than you had since summer. To the bright enthusiastic catharsis of loud and off-key singing and bass lines that match your heartbeat. Loves don't last forever, but that goes without saying. What matters is that they were there. Gods damn it.

---

On the way home from the class Christmas party I sat down in the middle of the driveway to CM from the PGH, right in front of the guardhouse that faces the med caf. It was one-thirty in the morning and I don't think I will ever have words for grey skies and the rainbow around the gibbous moon and the quality of the air between six at night and five in the morning, cool settling on your skin like dusk and ideas right on the border of the mind, just out of touch and Manila Manila Manila.

On the way home from the Diliman lantern parade this evening I forgot to get off at the corner of Commonwealth and Tandang Sora as per instructions and decided to walk home, hence proving that when presented with a range of options of varying levels of intelligence I will always pick the least intelligent one. Moral of the story is that Tandang Sora is a very long street. While I was walking Allison texted me to say that she bought Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and sorry she forgot to pay me for utilities and could I please pay for them lest our electricity be cut off again. I replied (see, what did I tell you, least intelligent option, any day) not to worry about the bills and postscript I had no idea where I was. The real moral of the story is that I have no idea how I deserve any of them- Allison who is kind of on permanent babysitter duty, Billy who never stops being cheer and enthusiasm, Sedric who texted me out of the blue to say that he was still team DeLee Fuente (I will never stop laughing, NEVER EVER STOP LAUGHING), Ellie who calls me Stargirl. Guia and Niko, for ever. I say this a lot, but I don't think I can say it enough.
levity: (costume party)
Ang sakit ng paa ko. Sobrang sakit ng paa ko. Walang mas sasakit pa sa paa ko. Pero first place ang lantern naming hinabol namin ni Allison paikot ng UPM para ibalik lahat ng mga bagay-bagay na nahuhulog habang umiikot siya at nakapag-simbang gabi kami kahit na sa Jollibee lang rin kami napunta pagkatapos at nakita ko si Guia, di bale nang nandoon rin si Nikolo Bathan. (Alam nyo naman na mahal na mahal ko kayong pareho.) Kailangan ko nang matulog, pero.

---

I don't know what I will do if it turns out that I will never get to see David Villa play again. I just don't. And that is all I am going to say about it, because Guaje.

---

Our lantern placed first and our drag queens didn't. Allison and I served as the on-the-spot parade repair team; I feel perversely proud that she and not I came up with the joke that went Buti na lang si Patrick yung nasa harapan, may siren tayo, huang, huang, huang. If you need to stop traffic, all you have to do is have Epi bring out his camera. Our IDC group's presentation more or less served as auditions for next year's LadyMed. And as per usual during the class Christmas party I sat at the table we'd claimed and wrote and smiled at all the kids hopping around and singing, and while what I really wanted to do was join them and sing secure in the knowledge that no one could hear me, well, no.

This is how you fall in love: to last-minute panic, scrambling for extension cords and spray paint and double-sided tape, running back and forth from apartment to PGH quad to East and feeling lighter than you had since summer. To the bright enthusiastic catharsis of loud and off-key singing and bass lines that match your heartbeat. Loves don't last forever, but that goes without saying. What matters is that they were there. Gods damn it.

---

On the way home from the class Christmas party I sat down in the middle of the driveway to CM from the PGH, right in front of the guardhouse that faces the med caf. It was one-thirty in the morning and I don't think I will ever have words for grey skies and the rainbow around the gibbous moon and the quality of the air between six at night and five in the morning, cool settling on your skin like dusk and ideas right on the border of the mind, just out of touch and Manila Manila Manila.

On the way home from the Diliman lantern parade this evening I forgot to get off at the corner of Commonwealth and Tandang Sora as per instructions and decided to walk home, hence proving that when presented with a range of options of varying levels of intelligence I will always pick the least intelligent one. Moral of the story is that Tandang Sora is a very long street. While I was walking Allison texted me to say that she bought Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and sorry she forgot to pay me for utilities and could I please pay for them lest our electricity be cut off again. I replied (see, what did I tell you, least intelligent option, any day) not to worry about the bills and postscript I had no idea where I was. The real moral of the story is that I have no idea how I deserve any of them- Allison who is kind of on permanent babysitter duty, Billy who never stops being cheer and enthusiasm, Sedric who texted me out of the blue to say that he was still team DeLee Fuente (I will never stop laughing, NEVER EVER STOP LAUGHING), Ellie who calls me Stargirl. Guia and Niko, for ever. I say this a lot, but I don't think I can say it enough.
levity: (evening stretched out against the sky)
Intarmed Christmas party at Ping Mang = best thing in the world. I see them every day and either way it'd be stupid to expect things to stay the same when med proper rolled about so I can't really say I miss the kids with any accuracy, but I kind of miss the kids anyway. (No, we will never graduate from being the Intarmedkids, ever.) Hindi nagbibigay ng 100 ang videoke ng Ping Mang- at grabe na lang 'yan, sina Gee at Ces na nga kumakanta, ayaw pang bigyan ng 100- pero alam naman naming magaling kami (depende na lang sa kahulugan mo ng magaling), so okay lang. And I'm writing this sitting on the floor of Allen's bedroom, right in front of the mirrored closet, with a metal cup of Coke (technically Pepsi) and rum. (At Ping Mang Sedric ordered a Coke with lemon and when it arrived Ginnie said, "Sedric! You can't drink that!" I love the Intarmedkids. It's not like a football club- too steady, too light, and not dramatic at all- but that doesn't make it mean any less.)

And I kind of spent the afternoon reading Sherlock Holmes fic, all the incarnations that were there, and all of a sudden I understood the logic behind Allison's verdict of high-functioning sociopath. My brain is still talking; I'm here because I want it to stop. You have no idea how many things I've done in the name of making my brain shut up.
levity: (evening stretched out against the sky)
Intarmed Christmas party at Ping Mang = best thing in the world. I see them every day and either way it'd be stupid to expect things to stay the same when med proper rolled about so I can't really say I miss the kids with any accuracy, but I kind of miss the kids anyway. (No, we will never graduate from being the Intarmedkids, ever.) Hindi nagbibigay ng 100 ang videoke ng Ping Mang- at grabe na lang 'yan, sina Gee at Ces na nga kumakanta, ayaw pang bigyan ng 100- pero alam naman naming magaling kami (depende na lang sa kahulugan mo ng magaling), so okay lang. And I'm writing this sitting on the floor of Allen's bedroom, right in front of the mirrored closet, with a metal cup of Coke (technically Pepsi) and rum. (At Ping Mang Sedric ordered a Coke with lemon and when it arrived Ginnie said, "Sedric! You can't drink that!" I love the Intarmedkids. It's not like a football club- too steady, too light, and not dramatic at all- but that doesn't make it mean any less.)

And I kind of spent the afternoon reading Sherlock Holmes fic, all the incarnations that were there, and all of a sudden I understood the logic behind Allison's verdict of high-functioning sociopath. My brain is still talking; I'm here because I want it to stop. You have no idea how many things I've done in the name of making my brain shut up.
levity: (desire lives in the heart)
Suspended over the abyss, the life of Octavia's inhabitants is less uncertain than in other cities. They know the net will last only so long.


One day, maybe, I will grow up. Then I will be amazing at all the administrativa and efficient at studying and I will drink coffee just to wake up and never mind the taste. The trains will be modes of public transport and not great old worn-down lines of greying urban beauty, and my boots will match my uniform. (Aimee Dy asked after my boots, saying she liked the color, and I told her, My mom was in Trinoma and she saw red boots and thought of me. Why, she asked, is red your favorite color. I like red shoes, I said, and cut off the half-true story before I could start, once upon a time I was Dorothy. I will always sort of be Dorothy now; I want to reread Lord of the Rings. Those two comments are connected, I swear. They haven't yet made the shoes that can take you home.)
levity: (desire lives in the heart)
Suspended over the abyss, the life of Octavia's inhabitants is less uncertain than in other cities. They know the net will last only so long.


One day, maybe, I will grow up. Then I will be amazing at all the administrativa and efficient at studying and I will drink coffee just to wake up and never mind the taste. The trains will be modes of public transport and not great old worn-down lines of greying urban beauty, and my boots will match my uniform. (Aimee Dy asked after my boots, saying she liked the color, and I told her, My mom was in Trinoma and she saw red boots and thought of me. Why, she asked, is red your favorite color. I like red shoes, I said, and cut off the half-true story before I could start, once upon a time I was Dorothy. I will always sort of be Dorothy now; I want to reread Lord of the Rings. Those two comments are connected, I swear. They haven't yet made the shoes that can take you home.)
levity: (bring it)
Renal physio exam on Monday and El freaking Clasico at four in the morning on Sunday (and I know last time I said I was sick to everything of Spanish football, but, well, I can't not) and I should be editing and putting together all the problem set answers the groupmates sent me so that I can get back to studying sooner, but what I am doing instead is playing old-school rock'n roll very loud, so that I can't hear myself singing along, unreasonably happy. Epi passed a piece of paper around the classroom earlier today, telling us to put down our song requests for the class Christmas party, and I turned to Allison and said, "Kung mag-request ba ako ng Desolation Row may susuntok ba sa akin?" The answer was an emphatic no, expressed in the form of a very long list of requests. If the Epimers have the same sense of humor as we do and choose to play Iron Man and War Machine one after the other I will love them always.

(When song requests come around I always want to put down Let it Bleed, and I never do because I don't want to be the only person in the room who loves Let it Bleed. I don't think it's the Stones' best, but it's my favorite, and also I fell in love to that song. Simplest statement of the whole thing in the world: if you want to, then you can bleed on me.)

Unreal city )
levity: (bring it)
Renal physio exam on Monday and El freaking Clasico at four in the morning on Sunday (and I know last time I said I was sick to everything of Spanish football, but, well, I can't not) and I should be editing and putting together all the problem set answers the groupmates sent me so that I can get back to studying sooner, but what I am doing instead is playing old-school rock'n roll very loud, so that I can't hear myself singing along, unreasonably happy. Epi passed a piece of paper around the classroom earlier today, telling us to put down our song requests for the class Christmas party, and I turned to Allison and said, "Kung mag-request ba ako ng Desolation Row may susuntok ba sa akin?" The answer was an emphatic no, expressed in the form of a very long list of requests. If the Epimers have the same sense of humor as we do and choose to play Iron Man and War Machine one after the other I will love them always.

(When song requests come around I always want to put down Let it Bleed, and I never do because I don't want to be the only person in the room who loves Let it Bleed. I don't think it's the Stones' best, but it's my favorite, and also I fell in love to that song. Simplest statement of the whole thing in the world: if you want to, then you can bleed on me.)

Unreal city )
levity: (clarity)
Immensely obvious fact: it is four in the morning. It is four in the morning and Carling Cup isn't showing and I'm tired and I've been trying to sleep since eleven and I haven't slept yet because my brain just won't. Shut. Up. What the hell, self. This is not how you do reasonable mature human being. I thought we were done with this whole inability-to-sleep thing. Fluffy hair and absurd levels of geekery and smiles like annihilation- well, I thought we were done with that, too.

---

At least nakahuli ako ng daga sa flypaper.
levity: (clarity)
Immensely obvious fact: it is four in the morning. It is four in the morning and Carling Cup isn't showing and I'm tired and I've been trying to sleep since eleven and I haven't slept yet because my brain just won't. Shut. Up. What the hell, self. This is not how you do reasonable mature human being. I thought we were done with this whole inability-to-sleep thing. Fluffy hair and absurd levels of geekery and smiles like annihilation- well, I thought we were done with that, too.

---

At least nakahuli ako ng daga sa flypaper.
levity: (words in the heart cannot be taken)
Quote of the day:
"Kasi, yung bird niya-"
- Allison, on Nightwing's costume

---

This morning while waiting for my groupmates to feel like starting dissecting I opened the door to Dualan's fire exit and went out and just sat there on the first step of flecked-black metal stairs, which, yeah, was as melodramatic as all hell, but I needed someplace quiet, okay? Someplace to sit and write or alternatively sit and not-write and be out of the way of all the people. I love the people- I cannot believe that I am saying this, but there you have it- but I'm not good at keeping my head on straight at the best of times, and I've never had those best of times. Once upon a time- well, we've all been all sorts of people once upon a time. Once upon a time I was this crazy bossy perfectionist kid, the one who made things work, the one who carried scissors everywhere and wrote stories, and once upon a time I was this girl who was dead bored and wanted to live forever. She had bright cold smiles and history-book dreams and fifty thousand unrequieted loves and she never, ever let anyone else in.

I need to keep my head on straight, because- okay, I know that there are people you can trust, not just in the way that means you're pretty sure they won't kill you in your sleep, not just because you know exactly what they're going to do. Trust as in the functional human being definition. I know this cognitively. It just doesn't process very well, which sounds horrible. And my one attempt at it kind of collapsed magnificently, which is okay, really, things like that happen, and I'm fine, because I will always be fine, just not, you know, fine with making another attempt. But I don't want to be that girl again, I don't want to never let people know that I appreciate the fact that they exist, and I need to remember that.

---

Last dissection day today. I spent mine in Siberia at the table beside ours, skeletonizing the branches of the renal artery, teaching other people the branches of the renal artery, laughing with the Intarmedkids, and not remembering to eat. Allison and I stepped out to buy milk tea around three, and of course when we got back Elaine was screaming at me that we had to have a group picture and where did I go.

And- I never loved Dualan, see, and maybe one day I will regret spending so much of my time there wanting to be somewhere else, but I don't know that yet. What I do know: organs, innervations, musculature and vasculature. To go for forceps before scalpels. To never let Kevin Llamas near any vessels you want intact. How to keep your bangs out of your cadaver without the assistance of either hair nets or headbands. (With practice, and with a little help from your anatomates.)  How to keep your cadaver safe from Siberia's mold infestation. (By wholeheartedly accepting the fact that there is no such thing as too much Lysol.) How it feels to spend three hours isolating arteries and nerves and attaching names to them, and then sit down after ferreting out the terminal branches, and get it. (Like applause you know is meant after the curtain call, only infintely worse-smelling; like nothing else in the world.)

I'll never be able to say it right, but: best teachers, first patients. Ours had a supreme turbinate and an accessory obturator artery branching from the obturator artery and a really large celiac trunk and an abnormal left leg and ampalaya stuck in his esophagus and a really badly-dissected face. The anatomates said thank you to him there at our table beside the window and the exhaust fan, which. Guys.

---

Dat dat dat sa aking dat dat dat doo sounds like music now. Here's to us.

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