Have you ever...?

...felt so sad that you don't know you are shutting out everything around you, including the person smiling right in front of you? So sad that you don't hear your phone ringing; so sad that you don't realize it's tears falling down your face and not rain?

...felt so low that no matter how much effort you put into something your output still spells disaster? So low that you've forgotten you can speak up and be heard?

...felt so numb you don't feel the hunger anymore? So numb that your five-hour headache is disguisingly comforting?

...

I'm the cornflower blue donkey

Ass is more like it (sorry, Eeyore).

I must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed (well, I'm on the wrong side of the bed, actually. Neil sleeps on the side nearest the wall - I don't know how we got into these sleeping places). It must have been my week-long cranky mood. Or maybe it's the crawling red ants that keep on coming back no matter how much Baygon I spray. Maybe it's the stressful living condition that we have - we realized we don't have such a perfect home, with the water leakage, the [non-existence of an] elevator, the frikkin ants, the not-so-helpful maintenance guy.

And then one bad thing led to another and another and now my husband and I ain't talking to each other.

There. The raincloud hovering above me.

Rockin weekend

Guess what I was doing last Friday at 7PM?

I was with Neil and John, on the waiting shed in front of MSE Ayala, slightly wet because of the downpour. Waiting for the Quiapo bus.

We were going to Sanctum Intramuros to see Cynthia Alexander. John was complaining - "I'm not a die-hard fan!" - he wouldn't have been braving the rains for Cynthia.

So anyway, we boarded the bus. Good thing we were seated (or else I wouldn't hear the end of it from John). Neil fell asleep, John was absorbed in reading his Harry Potter 5 on his PDA, and I was left staring at my hand.

We got off at the Quiapo church, and took the jeep to the pier. I swear we looked like the three very lost wise men...we were dressed up and looking so dignified - riding the jeep and inhaling the polluted Manila air. All that for Cynthia.

Since we were on Patty's guest list, we got good seats in the house. Patty, tipsy and all, humiliated me by telling Cynthia I was the stalker. I was horrified. I mean, if I were the artist I'd stay away from stalkers, right. Grrr. Anyway, when the show ended, I was already humiliated that I didn't want to line up for the CD signing. I had John go up and do it.

John, the good friend that he is, pointed to me and said - "There's Mica! This was all her idea. There's your stalker!". God! I had to stand, go up, and meet her.

It wasn't as horrifying as I thought it would be. She wrote, on the CD jacket, "daghang salamat, Mica...wouldn't have explored so far". Awww. Ain't that great? ;p

Anyway...Saturday we spent the day with Neil's tita (and tito). It felt good talking to two old married couples - the insight you can get from them!

Sunday...well I was dreading French class. I felt I didn't do my homework right, and I had a gnawing feeling that my professeur would call on me - again and again and again - like he always does. It turned out that I was the only one who got it right! Nice surprise.

Now I wish the weekend was longer...