Our heads were temporarily swept by this upcoming wedding, happening, for the first time, for the ladies in our part of the clan (my male cousins had their part, and the only ones who remain single is my brother and um, two cousins who haven’t reached their teens yet). This is not my wedding, although I do wish for mine to come later (like what? A decade?). I don’t like my age being poked out of nowhere, although it is indeed poke-able and is quite extra-ripe for me to say those well-wrought marital vows. But, since I am waiting for my Toru (not exactly Yamashita) to fall out of the sky, I’m willing to be the bridesmaid again, and potentially avoid the bouquet-catching ceremony because my guy has lost his way. Honey, use Tom Tom. Or Waze. Just get your ass here fast.
Oh, wait. Not so fast. Not until I’ve established my authorship, got my design studio and has moved in to my own place. Hold your horses! Take a break! We’ll meet when we’re both ready.
Summer Swelter on Sunday
Survived this divine heat on a Sunday, when our little mission spot was left electric-less due to the faulty wirings. Not excited about the heat, but I was able to pull off a little tank-top-dress with this really thin strap and got away with it without raising brows. Call me a spaghetti-strap opportunist. The whole church had to move to the covered area to get some air, and my dad had to preach literally by the door, but somehow, I think it works; I think it’s nicer for us to be outside and have the rest of the neighbors listen to the Word.
The kids demanded some piano time, and because we were bereft of our place, I had to pull my poor Benny out, sat on the ground (for a while), and played for them. Their current favorite: Every Move I Make. They loved the nananana part because that’s the only thing they can easily recognize!
Church ended past 11, and I actually walked in the middle of the very hot sun to buy this little kid some soda (because the rest bought for themselves and he didn’t have any money for his own). In the car, my mom tells me to put something cold over my head, handing me ice and a towel, but I didn’t bother. Little did I know I’d be receiving one of the worst headaches I’ll have this year. Aside from that funny, vertigo attack.
Pinks and Grays Just Because
Ate Kaye and her soon-to-be husband, Billy, dropped by the old house to have one-last-chat before she gets married on the 28th, as well as probably, see to it that things are in order. I wore gray today on purpose, so I can actually show off my mom’s um, work, a string of pink and gray beads she intentionally crafted for the bridesmaid. It’s a teeny, tiny thing, but you know what they say—it’s the thought that counts, and I’m glad Ate Kaye appreciated it. Sweet.
Ugh the Numbers
Weddings have never startled me, not even the fact that I’m really, really old. Firstly, I don’t look like it (thank you, genes) and second, I don’t feel like it. It’s weird that this profession I chose, no matter how misogynist it appears (I’m a writer), made me feel more confident. Maybe it’s somehow associated with perception—I’m farsighted. And a little step back to see the bigger picture helps me see things clearer. And it’s quite clear that I don’t have to live my life the way the rest of the world does.
I am one of the odd ones. I hope he is too.
If there’s any little blessing I cherish throughout my late-blooming, boyfriendless stage, it’s those little talks with my mom. I’ve been in this world for three decades, and I never knew how my mom knew that my dad was her man, until she spills it one Sunday over breakfast, when we’re hurrying for church. That she was praying for a prayerful man, and when my dad prayed over the crowd, she had that thought it just might be him.
Mom reminds me to pray for a certain standard, a sort of a hint, and God will make His way through. Standard? *looks at Toru* No, not this heartbreaker. I did wish for someone who’s brave and decisive and is unafraid to travel all over the world, giving himself to many, earning himself a lot—at least, of love and experience. I want to be a home for him. A nest for the nomad. *now if only he is tall and gwapo and loves music, I’m good*. I also want a man who has God as his first love. Someone who is unselfish and poetic and emphatic and um, a lover of the sea. Because I am afraid of the waters.
35, for 35XXXV, for Taka, who just had his birthday this time at some other part of the world. Thank you for living. Your voice is one of my favorite things in the world, among the many hundreds. xx