The Imaginary Order

 Dreamt that I had an argument with a prof in class. She got so angry that she walked out. I didn't care because I've decided to drop everything - my school, my life - and run off to Palawan with Monica, who was going home. I packed my bags in a hurry because it was getting late, and said goodbye only to the people who were with us at the time (Marnelli, Myka). The road was hot, parched, and dry and I longed for the sea. For that moment, I was happy walking on that dry road knowing I won't be there for long. 

Driving around in a seedy place. I was in the back seat with Migi and the driver was, I think he was Miguel. There was a girl on the passenger seat, but I don't know who she was. We hit a guy in a motorbike at an intersection. He was wearing green. He fell and was still alive but Miguel just drove on by. There was another fallen motorbike with a dead body beside it ahead of us. The driver drove over the body and I felt it crunching beneath the wheels.

We reached a night market selling meat. There were dead bodies everywhere, some of them, days old. All of them were dismembered but nobody cared. There was a riot two days ago and it seemed to happen often. I suddenly remembered Pallon's joke about dead bodies being so commonplace in UP such that when somebody dies, they'd just call a janitor: "Manong, paki-walis nga yung bakla; namatay eh."

We left the car and entered a convenience store as discreetly as possible. A group of guys were following us. We just sat on the side in a circle. Some guy with a big belly, really dark skin, and dirty greenish sando, offered Migi something that looked like Tawas being sold in sari-sari stores—the ones sold in little plastic bags and stapled to a carton. It was shabu. Migi gave the guy a hundred bucks and took one. Then the guy offered it to Miguel. Miguel bought one as well. They both did out of fear.

When the guy offered it to me, I said "Hindi po". He acted irritated and then shoved it a little nearer to my face. I whispered, "Hindi po."
"Ano ulitin mo nga 'yon?" He was smiling now.
"Alin po?"
"Yung tawag mo sa'kin, anong tawag mo sa'kin?"
"Po?"
And he laughed and walked off. I couldn't help but cry so I hid my face against Migi's back. A narrator in a deep voice said "This story would've ended happily if nobody lost their ticket."

Near the entrance of the convenience store, two kids—a boy and a girl were running from the gang who were following us to the store earlier. The boy shouted, "Your ticket!" The girl, without looking back, shouted back,"That's not my ticket, it's yours!" And they kept on running.

Word spreads around fast and almost everyone has already heard about what happened to our afriend, Tara Santelices (Assumption Antipolo’s Batch 2003 and Ateneo de Manila University’s Class of 2007, AB Political Science).

On the eve of her 23rd birthday, Tara was shot in the head during a hold-up while riding a jeepney along Imelda Avenue, Cainta, Rizal. Joee Mejias, who was with her at that time, rushed her to Amang Rodriguez Memorial Hospital in Marikina City. The parents of Tara and Joee arrived at the hospital shortly thereafter. When morning came, Tara’s parents finally decided to transfer her to the Medical City, Ortigas Avenue, Pasig City. Since 8:00am of August 6, Tara has been in the ICU fighting for her dear life. Her parents have decided not to push through with the operation.

Although it might seem that there is nothing else that we can do but wait for Tara to wake up from this horrific nightmare, we, the friends of Tara, have decided to raise funds for Tara’s hospital bills. This is the least we can do to ease the unbearable pain her family is going through. We have been given the go-signal from Tara’s dad, Tito Larry, and here are the details:

The temporary bank account is under Anne Marie F. Santelices, Banco de Oro, SA 2140-062201. For direct cash donations, please proceed to the ICU Waiting Room of the Medical City (Ortigas Avenue, Pasig City). Please look for Joee Mejias or Lila Santelices.

Any amount will be gratefully accepted. Anonymous donations are also welcome. Please spread the word. Forward this to your family, friends and even to everyone else you know. Please post this on Friendster, Multiply, Facebook and wherever else you can think of. Please send group messages on Yahoo Messenger. This will mean so much to us, her friends.

Please continue praying for Tara, for Joee and for both of their families. If you want to come see Tara, visiting hours at the ICU are at 9:00 am to 11:00 am and 5:00 pm to 7:00 pm.

Thank you so much for your time and kind consideration.

For inquiries, please contact Joee Mejias (09228154987) for calls and Jac Ledonio (09167243071) or Myka Francisco (09163695148) for text messages.

We, Tara's friends and family are trying to raise funds for Tara's medical bills. It is also to uplift the moral of Tara and her Family. Please support our events for Tara.
Thank you for your support.


August 9 (Saturday)

Bela Bar - Skies of Ember, Rubber Inc., Elemento, Carnival Park, Archaster, and more. (more details on dotternus.multiply.com) 9pm onwards

70s Bistro - Coffeebreak Island, Lady I, slots still open. 7pm onwards

August 11 (Monday)

Ten02 - Skies of ember, Scarlet Tears, Names are for Tombstones, slots still open.

August 12 (Tuesday)

No final venue yet.

August 13 (Wednesday)

Freedom Bar - Slots open.

August 14 (Thursday)

Bela Bar - slots open.

August 15 (Friday)

Gweilos Makati - slots open. (venue not yet final)

August 16 (Saturday)

Route196 - Open Mic (acoustic) and Open art exhibit for ladies. Organized by Lunduyan ng Sining and F.A.M.E.

Mogwai Cubao X - Organized by RockEd.

August 25 (Monday)

Route196 - slots open.

Please pray for Tara Bosch-Santelices at 12nn today. She was shot the other day on the head. She's in the ICU and is becoming less responsive. Thank you. Please spread the word.

No reason how or why but the world disappeared slowly fading to black. I was the only one left and my father was angry.

My second boss just transferred me to his online dating site reviews website and my task was to do research on online dating. I kept stumbling upon mail order bride pages all peddling the same goods (Latin Americans, Asians, Russians) for the same market (Americans with thick wallets) and I wondered whether there's such a thing as a mail order groom. My online officemate (aka xenia_chloe) and I scoured the internet for one, just in case we got demented and/or desperate. Here's what we found:

1. Lucky Bride Mail-Order Groom Company


Lucky Bride promises that all their grooms are "well domesticated, and ready to assume the role of man-of-the-house" You can choose a husband as young as 18 to one as old as 45. This company is perfect for people who have a taste for the Japanese as it sells only Japanese grooms.

The very first company that serves grooms right at your doorstep, mail-order grooms are shipped in boxes with breathing holes and enough food to last the travel time.

SUCCESS STORY:

"I'm quite happy with my purchase. My groom wasn't quite so fresh when I received him, and the instructions were in Japanese, but I had him functioning just in time for the wedding."
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I was walking out of Dahlia St. from my Lola's house when I saw him sitting on the curb with an ex. They were eating something in a plastic bag and talking. His eyes were trailing me. I ignored him completely but I saw him whispering something—a spell?  I ignored him completely and went ahead into the dark where my friends were waiting. We were going out for a drink.

When I went back, he was there still with his ex.

Then I was walking out again from my Lola's house when I saw him sitting on the curb with an ex. They were eating gummy bears. I ignored him completely but he started hurling insults at me. I ignored him completely and went ahead into the dark where my friends were waiting.

tagged by: xenia_chloe and annani

1. What worries you?
Right now? Responsibilities regarding work.

2. Are you confused as to what lies ahead?
No. Why would I?

3. Is there anything that made you unhappy recently?
Yes. "April is the cruellest month" and "May is the emo month".

4. What did you last cry over?
Secreeet!!!

5. Have you ever dated someone?
Of course, I'm not a plant. I'm a butterfly!

6. Which is more blessed: loving someone or being loved by someone?
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved."

7. If the person you like doesn't accept you, would you continue to wait for them to change their feelings?
Of course not. I'd go look for someone else to play with.

8. If the person you like is secretly attached, what would you do?
Why would he be secretly attached? If he's a closet fag, we could be best friends.

9. What do you want most in life?
Beauty. Haha!

10. What's the most important thing you look for in a significant other?
Love, faith.

11. Have you ever had your heart broken?
Not a plant.

12. Would you rather be single and rich or married and poor?
Rich and single. You didn't say if it's going to be a happy marriage.

13. Do you like someone right now?
Like as in like-like?

14. Do they like you too?
(Mahaba-habang inuman)

15. If you fall in love with two persons simultaneously, who would you pick?
Hm. I never believed in polyamory. Polygamy, yes. Polyamory, no.

16. What type of friends do you like?
My friends right now.

17. If you played a prank on someone, and she/he fell for the trick, what would you do?
Laugh out loud and tell everyone else all about it.

18. If you were betrayed by someone, what would you say to that person?
What did I say again, back then?

19. If the person tagging you likes/loves you, what will you do/say?
Xenia and Joy: "Ha? Akala ko ba straight ka?" HAHAHAHA!

20. What do you think of the person who tagged you?
Xenia: Antropomorphic Joy: Non-diegetic

tagging: amphoterism, collected_poems, el_pomstar,gattara, haidster,monsterofthesea, pyrosinferno,raketscientist

Memes Overload (Yeah!) (No, you don't have to read it.):

( 01. Person who tagged me: Myka and Ica )

 

 

( a. List seven habits/quirks/facts about yourself )

 

 

( 39 SECRETS ABOUT YOU )

DOES ANYBODY HERE KNOW HOW TO EXPORT BLOG ENTRIES FROM ONE JOURNAL TO ANOTHER? (OR AT LEAST FROM A BLOG TO A PDF FILE?) I KNOW THERE'S A SITE THAT DOES THAT BUT I FORGOT WHAT. ANY LEADS WOULD BE GREATLY APPRECIATED.

THANK YOU!

Marc picked me and Christian up somewhere in Cubao, I think. He was supposed to take me home. There was a girl on the passenger seat too but I didn't know who she was, really. She was changing every few moments: sometimes she was Mabi, sometimes she was someone I think I know but only think.

Through the course of the trip, Marc suddenly changed—the person driving began shifting from Marc to Ms. Roa (a HS Algebra teacher I had a fight with). The shifts were swift; like changing channels on TV. At first, there was a length of time before Marc changed from Ms. Roa to Marc again, but as we got nearer to my house, the changing became so fast that I didn’t know who the driver was anymore. I know it was supposed to be Marc but I know that it wasn't Marc.

We passed by Palmera 2 and went straight to a grocery in Antipolo (Shopwise, I presume). Marc/Ms. Roa turned to me and said, “May bibilhin kami.”

“That's okay. Dito na lang kami bababa.” I replied.

Before getting down, Christian pointed to a beaten down Kia Pride beside Marc/Ms. Roa's car. "O, 'yon pala yung kotse ko eh. Tara sakay na tayo, hatid na kita." But instead of heading to the driver's seat, Christian headed to the back seat. I followed his suit and we sat behind, doing nothing. He started talking about his keys. Then the car started alarming with loud whooping sounds and light effects. Christian just kept calm and continued with his story.

A frat guy wearing a dark blue checkered polo shirt arrived and peeked at us through the open window. "Kotse ko 'to, pare ah." he said, raising a chin at Christian. I thought it was Christian's car that's why I rode it. That's what he said, it was his car. I thought of going down.

And then we were inside this house with varnished wooden floors and walls with a large window to the left. It was a big empty room with only a TV by the window. The frat guy was there with a throng of men in blue behind him. On our side, there was only Christian and me. They started discussing what to do with Christian and they quickly decided on a suntukan. Sort of: there was to be a blue ‘ring’ which was actually a square mat with the lines in a tennis court drawn on it. The rule was simple: they’re free to beat each other up and the first one who steps out of the ‘ring’ loses. Christian agreed but I felt iffy about it. It was too simple.

They went outside while I remained inside to watch TV with Mike and a girl Quillie while waiting for them to finish. Despite the racket the TV was causing, I could hear Christian groaning in pain. The groans had silent intervals. It seemed that Christian wasn’t fighting back but accepting all the hits.

When I peeked downstairs on the parking lot—

Well, there was the blue 'ring' alright, but Christian was curled up inside a bronze-colored box. There were hundreds of frat men surrounding him, all in dark blue checkered polo shirts. The guy who owned the Kia Pride and two other guys were sticking knives into the box while the rest watched.

There was nothing I could do. I went back to the TV but his groaning kept me distracted. Suddenly, Christian was there watching with us. He was going to die inside that box. I lied on his lap and held his hand.

This. Is. All. A. Bad. Dream. I thought to myself. And the images dispersed, faded into the recesses of my mind.

I went to school at 9am to do some research. It was dark in UP and the street lamps were on. There was hardly anyone in school except for a few girls walking along the sidewalk. When I reached AS, I knew instantly that I had to get down from that thing I was riding on. The problem is I didn't know how to get down from the thing I was riding, whatever it was. It was supposed to be a jeep but it had two bars in front of me, a little far from each other. There was nothing to its right and I didn't even know what I was sitting on. It was probably a tall stool of sorts. I knew there was a driver beside me but I couldn't see him at all—I couldn’t turn my head to look at him, I could only imagine him. “Para”, I called out. But the vehicle won’t stop so I just jumped out. When I got to AS, I realized I didn't know what I was doing there. I was supposed to do research but then apparently, I was also supposed to meet up at the AS Steps with Christian, Miguel and Joseph for a shoot. I’m supposed to do research, I thought to myself. But there I was, obliged to wait for the three guys who were nowhere in sight.

There were a few groups of people dispersed on the AS steps but they weren't any of them. There was a guy sitting with his back turned against me, he was facing the AS entrance. He was working on something with bright yellow-brown color, I didn't know what. He resembled Miguel from behind so I tapped him on his shoulder and asked, "Miguel?" When he turned to face me, he wasn’t Miguel at all. He was an old man who looked like Miguel but distorted from my point of view. I didn’t even know why. His face looked normal but I felt afraid. I looked away and walked along. I didn't have load. I wondered if Joseph was even informed about this at all. Christian, Miguel, and Joseph was nowhere in sight. And it was dark in UP.

Recently, I've been losing my things—randomly, one by one. I don't know how it happens or why. They simply  disappear. Just like that. First to go was my notebook which contained one rather important thing: my final manuscript for the comics-writing class I was incomplete in last year. I know I can re-draw it; I think I remember most of the parts. But how was it lost? Just two weeks ago I was showing it around to some Quillies and then the next day it was gone. Nowhere to be found. I've searched everywhere—every pile of papers, every corner of cabinets and drawers, every bag, and every corner of my sister's office—but it's gone.

And then just last Saturday... well, the victim was my pair of shades. Christian was only kidding when he said he broke my shades but then it actually did get broken. It's still useable though, the thing on the nose just got torn off. So I was wearing my shades, right, in his actor's car. And then after that, I don't remember anything more. I just realized the next day, as we were about to walk to a nearby restaurant for lunch, that my shades were gone. I can't remember at all whether I left it in the actor's car or... Jesus, I have no memory of the shades at all after Christian's little joke!

And this morning while on my way to a bath, I found out that I lost my feminine wash. Of all things! It was always in my basket with my soap and shampoo. If it wasn't, it was in a ziplock bag with my soap. I was sure I saw it in the basket yesterday. I am sure. So instead of taking a bath, I spent some hours searching every bathroom, every cabinet, every toiletries basket in this house for my feminine wash. To no avail.

And tonight; tonight is like the main event. After getting frustrated over all my little missing things, I ransacked the entire bedroom looking for the notebook, the shades, and the feminine wash. Of course I didn't find any. But I did find many little surprises along the way. Like the fact that I lost my favorite purple pen. The one I use to write papers with. I'm supposed to be writing a paper right now but—god! at least give me my purple pen back! Oh, and that's not all. Nope, that's not all. While thinking over where I last placed my purple pen, I realized that I lost my Le Coq Sportif bag. I handed it over to one of our maids for washing but that was two weeks ago and it hasn't returned. I knew this was getting hopeless so I resolved to forget about those little disappearances for tonight and just go organize my things—prepare the things I'll be needing for school tomorrow. But then another surprise hit me: my wallet is gone and

I am getting too afraid to look.

I received an early Valentine's present last Tuesday from my sister. Yeah, it wasn't from a boy but I couldn't help but get gushing giddy about it anyway. Who wouldn't when, after almost five years of looking for a certain short cartoon from your childhood, you find it loaded into your computer? Right there just waiting for me to click it and be watched. So, to give you kids a little valentine cheer, I bring you... (drumroll please)


I can't believe I still feel the same way about it ten years hence! I always thought it was called The Line and the Circle; maybe that's why I never found it. But who cares who cares I'm just so happy I found it! And that wasn't all, there were also two other cartoons, number two and three of my sister and I's most favoritest short cartoons of all time--The Bear that Wasn't and I Love to Singa! (I also just found out that they're all from the same director, Chuck Jones!) Isn't it terribly sweet? Now I don't have to feel lonely on Valentine's day. I can go straight home, grab a couple bottles of beer and gush over the dazzling, clever, mysterious, versatile, erudite, eloquent, profound, enigmatic, complex, and compelling Line. Come, let's fall in love.

I was about to go out for a drink with some friends when—W-T-F!—it's a Korean Invasion!

All my relatives were there by our house's gate, watching a fairly high apartment building get invaded. You see, it was in the middle of the night and nobody would've suspected it, nobody would've thought that those rascals would get up from their beds, change into camouflaged army uniforms, and run about killing Filipinos. We all watched how they did it; forcing doors open and raining every room with bullets from what seemed like armalites. It didn't take long before we realized our house was next. We had to do something. I saw my father sneak back inside the house while the rest of us were busy planning an escape. When he got back, he was in an army uniform as well. I recognized the uniform as my grandfather's. Somebody whispered, "Ay oo nga colonel nga pala siya dati." while pointing at my dad. Oh yeah, right, I told myself, as if I knew about it all my life. But I didn't. I never did.

He ran to the apartment and killed every single Korean (and there were hundreds of them!) with a single M16. (Good Lord, my father's an action star!) It was effortless. We all rejoiced at the failed invasion. My father was an instant super hero!

But really, all I could think about was, finally I can go out and drink.

This time, the fire was bigger, thicker and wilder.

From the fire exit at the back of the house, all I could see was fire but since I dreamed this before, I knew what to do. I was calmer and infinitely more confident. I went back to the house with a smile, telling everyone about the fire that was about to burn our house down. Jet was carrying Kenzi so I instructed him to go down as fast he could. I went to my room and saw Migi, standing there by the bed. He was a little hot-tempered, I didn't know why, but I remained my composure. I smiled and told him about me dreaming of this happening so I knew exactly what to do. 

I grabbed a random bag and filled it with clothes--underwear and t-shirts. Migi had a bag with him too but I don't know what he was filling it with. I remembered the book I so desperately saved in my dream so I went to my bookshelf and grabbed it. "My dream told me about this too." I told Migi no matter how disinterested he was anyway. Afterwards we all (Migi, my older sister, her daughter, and my youngest sister) went downstairs. Jet and Kenzi we're supposedly outside. The maids were waiting for us at the foot of the stairs before exiting. Ate Anabelle, one of our maids, pointed to the glass door, all yellow. Was the house burning already?

"Sa'n si Kenzi?!" I asked upon seeing Jet alone. From behind his legs, Kenzi peeked to show himself. He was either shy or afraid. Outside, it would've been pitch black if not for the full moon but the street was brimming with people, residents. All waiting to see their houses burned, all sitting on the curb. This would've been a great street party if not for the fire, I thought. I did a headcount of my family. Everyone was there except for those who were still in the office, still unaware of the tragedy about to befall--Diane, my mom, my dad. I wondered where we would end up. We could live in that condo in The Fort but it would be too cramped. The Laguna lots... well, those are just lots. My father, he would be devastated seeing this. How would he take it? Millions of pesos to nothing. I wonder. I couldn't take seeing my father depressed or sad or failing. Wouldn't it be better if we all just burned inside that house--dead but happy.