"What do you get when you kiss a man? You get enough germs to catch pneumonia..."
What did I miss? A week's worth of Friends' Pages to catch up with!
~~~
In the last three days before the deadline to the Philippine Graphic/Fiction Awards, I've made half-hearted drafts. The attempt behind them was wholehearted, but they still came out like... like farts. A relief but not impressive.
I did come up with something at the last minute, and I sent it by courier yesterday-- well, no, sent it by Mom, and she sent it by courier. Thanks, Mom. And thank you, Josh, for enduring me while we were printing everything.
Now that that's behind me (glaring holes at my nape, but I'm not opening the document until the winners are announced and I'm assured that Mr Gaiman is back in his charming house from the awarding ceremonies-- there's only so much /headdesks/ I can take), I shall tackle my NaNo. I haven't even thought about it until an hour ago, when I cooked rice for Josh and Jouie's breakfast. Their Hallows holiday is over. That means we'll be stringing Christmas lights outside. And I have a month before the NaNoFiMo in December. NaNoWri first.
I've been reading and rereading Kelly Link and Lisa Mantchev. And there is that despair all over again. What's the use of me writing when they're there? Hee.
~~~
My Ate Vic contracted measles. Tsk-tsk. Maybe from one of her students. So the planned get-together for Saturday had been cancelled. I pray she gets well without rebounds, like one of her kids getting sick. But I think all three are immunized against measles. There's just the worry that Neenee might have lost immunity from her childhood vaccination already. She's fourteen.
Poor Ate Vic has to deal with headaches and malaise and fevers and itching.
I put it here for the record. She won't get measles again.
~~~
We were planning a simple visit: food, videoke, DVD marathon for us kids (I'm included, yep). All Saints' and All Souls' combined is an annual holiday in this country, and people are free from school and work for as much as two weeks. Many go to beaches, if not camping near their departed loved ones' in cemeteries. My family has never done one or the other. All the dead maternal relatives are in Bicol. Our Lolo Leoncio and Tito Kenkoy, Dad's father and brother, are in South Cemetery in Manila.
I've only been there once. And the crowd was amazing.
Dad's grandma, Lola Joaquina died in 2006 (at age 97) and is buried nearer, just off the expressway in Eternal Gardens, but Mom wants to visit with Dad, not with his cousins.
Mainly, we just stay home and light candles and pray individually. Since my godmother, Ninang Franca died in 2003, my prayers has become less perfunctory and more fervent.
Around the same time, I became impervious to spooks. Sure, I still scream when the television networks and their magazine shows spring those silly women in white or grisly faces, but that's more from shock and surprise than from fright.
When I was a girl, I used to start requiring chaperones to the comfort room in October and only lose the need near December.
The problem with having an imagination as a child was how you retained information and replayed it and remade it and even 'improved' it. Ugh.
But maybe I grew up? Or was it having someone close to me join the league who used to scare me that cancelled the scare?
Last year, Ate Mayette (Ate Vic's sister) died. She was 26. We're still not sure whether it was brain cancer or an aneurysm. I miss her, and somehow, I gained another layer of immunity from Samhainophobia.
But not from the psychics. Well, not psychics, per se, but teams of psychics. 'Covens', 'questors', etc. Either all expert-y with their mirrors and magnets and whatnots, or all fashionista with their scarves (you know, that one some people jocularly call terrorist scarf?) and crystals and chartreuse pants. Sometimes a combination of both.
I hate the know-it-all-ness and the faddy costumes.
And I hate it when they fall back right into the arms of their team when they're 'touched'/'possessed'.
"Well, you keep missing the cushions, don't you? Just try and fall over backwards!"
"Once you're Stunned, you can't aim too well, Hermione!"
They aim too well.
~~~
People who hurt you = sandpaper
You become polished = they become useless
~~~
Coraline in February!
~~~
In the last three days before the deadline to the Philippine Graphic/Fiction Awards, I've made half-hearted drafts. The attempt behind them was wholehearted, but they still came out like... like farts. A relief but not impressive.
I did come up with something at the last minute, and I sent it by courier yesterday-- well, no, sent it by Mom, and she sent it by courier. Thanks, Mom. And thank you, Josh, for enduring me while we were printing everything.
Now that that's behind me (glaring holes at my nape, but I'm not opening the document until the winners are announced and I'm assured that Mr Gaiman is back in his charming house from the awarding ceremonies-- there's only so much /headdesks/ I can take), I shall tackle my NaNo. I haven't even thought about it until an hour ago, when I cooked rice for Josh and Jouie's breakfast. Their Hallows holiday is over. That means we'll be stringing Christmas lights outside. And I have a month before the NaNoFiMo in December. NaNoWri first.
I've been reading and rereading Kelly Link and Lisa Mantchev. And there is that despair all over again. What's the use of me writing when they're there? Hee.
~~~
My Ate Vic contracted measles. Tsk-tsk. Maybe from one of her students. So the planned get-together for Saturday had been cancelled. I pray she gets well without rebounds, like one of her kids getting sick. But I think all three are immunized against measles. There's just the worry that Neenee might have lost immunity from her childhood vaccination already. She's fourteen.
Poor Ate Vic has to deal with headaches and malaise and fevers and itching.
I put it here for the record. She won't get measles again.
~~~
We were planning a simple visit: food, videoke, DVD marathon for us kids (I'm included, yep). All Saints' and All Souls' combined is an annual holiday in this country, and people are free from school and work for as much as two weeks. Many go to beaches, if not camping near their departed loved ones' in cemeteries. My family has never done one or the other. All the dead maternal relatives are in Bicol. Our Lolo Leoncio and Tito Kenkoy, Dad's father and brother, are in South Cemetery in Manila.
I've only been there once. And the crowd was amazing.
Dad's grandma, Lola Joaquina died in 2006 (at age 97) and is buried nearer, just off the expressway in Eternal Gardens, but Mom wants to visit with Dad, not with his cousins.
Mainly, we just stay home and light candles and pray individually. Since my godmother, Ninang Franca died in 2003, my prayers has become less perfunctory and more fervent.
Around the same time, I became impervious to spooks. Sure, I still scream when the television networks and their magazine shows spring those silly women in white or grisly faces, but that's more from shock and surprise than from fright.
When I was a girl, I used to start requiring chaperones to the comfort room in October and only lose the need near December.
The problem with having an imagination as a child was how you retained information and replayed it and remade it and even 'improved' it. Ugh.
But maybe I grew up? Or was it having someone close to me join the league who used to scare me that cancelled the scare?
Last year, Ate Mayette (Ate Vic's sister) died. She was 26. We're still not sure whether it was brain cancer or an aneurysm. I miss her, and somehow, I gained another layer of immunity from Samhainophobia.
But not from the psychics. Well, not psychics, per se, but teams of psychics. 'Covens', 'questors', etc. Either all expert-y with their mirrors and magnets and whatnots, or all fashionista with their scarves (you know, that one some people jocularly call terrorist scarf?) and crystals and chartreuse pants. Sometimes a combination of both.
I hate the know-it-all-ness and the faddy costumes.
And I hate it when they fall back right into the arms of their team when they're 'touched'/'possessed'.
"Well, you keep missing the cushions, don't you? Just try and fall over backwards!"
"Once you're Stunned, you can't aim too well, Hermione!"
They aim too well.
~~~
People who hurt you = sandpaper
You become polished = they become useless
~~~
Coraline in February!
