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[happinessisathree-letterword]

Joy does not arrive with a fanfare, on a red carpet strewn with the flowers of a perfect life. Joy sneaks in, as you pour a cup of coffee, watching the sun hit your favourite tree, just right. And you usher joy away, because you are not ready for it. Your house is not as it must be, for such a distinguished guest. But joy cares nothing for your messy home, or your bank-balance, or your waistline, you see. Joy is supposed to slither through the cracks of your imperfect life, that’s how joy works. You cannot invite her, you can only be ready when she appears. And hug her with meaning, because in this very moment, joy chose you.

Donna Ashworth

[happinessisathree-letterword]

Kuching Malaysia

[happinessisathree-letterword]

grief, plans

-

i was so tired yesterday that i missed writing an entry. still i want to put something in here about yesterday. i was haunted all day with weird feelings about enzo and the other girl marj, the anxiety of it all

i tried walking it off that night which added to the exhaustion.

i was able to talk to faith and her goings on. her story is her own, they are not for these pages.

-

i wrote this thing in the middle of a planning session today. i had to. i was fighting tears while ms. magz was talking about targets and strategic plans and all i could think of was the gried that i woke up with in the morning. so i wrote this.

-

today, enzo left me a short voice message telling me how tedious the previous days were at work. he made plans to call Friday night (his Friday morning) to catch up. it's getting colder by the day in Toronto and i could only wish him warmth from here. it's also turning cold where i am.

-

i was wearing my knitted sweater today because i anticipated the cold plenary hall. the planning session was enjoyable since we sat with the group from PMED. i felt a little envy with their dynamics as a section, they were a fun bunch but also you know how serious they are when it comes to working. they joke around. even when some members of their team were transferred or promoted on a different post outside the division, they were able to interact freely and with the same bond as they did in the previous years. i am glad i was able to work with them with a lot of projects.

-

today i am glad i could write. when i was taking a bath i remembered Papang Alex who recently came back after being estranged from our family. maybe I'll write about him next time

[happinessisathree-letterword]

missed

(10/365)

I was so tired i missed the entry.

[happinessisathree-letterword]

fathers

(9/365)

I saw this post on substack today. it's no longer sunday here but since it's a holiday (nazareno) no work. i still feels like sunday.

i remember papa and all the ways he tried to make a home for us. i remember growing up not having the usual kind of family. he was a stay at home dad most of my childhood. my mother worked. he took care of the babies. he was good at homemaking until we were grown enough to take care of ourselves. that's when he tried getting jobs -- janitor at a catholic school, a carpenter somewhere, he drove trikes, he cooked meryenda and sold them at school, he did a lot. my mom did too. she was the one who held a steady job. my dad, who didn't finish college was the one doing the odd ones. i understand now why he always wanted janno to finish his schooling. he didn't want janno to be like him sort of. but my father was a good man, he was a good father, he was a good provider even though we struggled. i know he wanted to give us more. but he could only do so much. there are a lot of stories that could be told of my father. no blog post or book is enough.

today i watched this video Saksi Ang Langit by December Avenue and i understood.

i cried watching the video. i was loved as a kid. in so many ways my father loved us although it was hard for him to provide and be the kind of father he wanted or expected him to be.

if i ever get lucky, i'd have someone like my father. i think about enzo.

that one morning mama woke up and asked me about enzo, she told me how she prayed that one day we find a partner that was like papa. ' life was not easy for us, but looking back having someone like your papa made us like this. he was who i needed to share this life with' was along the lines she said. when i told her that what i have with enzo might no longer progress into something romantic, she said pwede pa yan. i got her spirit in that sense.

-

I finished The Last of Us today. And like a post on fathers, I look at Joel with the same admiration. He had it tough that was why he was tough on Ellie. But he grew through it and he was able to make it with her in the end.

i loved this screencap in particular because it sums up the whole game. when you find something worth fighting for, you fight for it to the end. when that is lost, you look for something to fight for again. and no it shouldn't always be life and death kind of fighting. you just have to find something worthy.

my father fought for us so many times. in so many ways. i am lucky.

-

today i went to the gym. ate only liver spread and mushroom soup. i finished the last of u. had short exchanges of voice messages from enzo. i miss hearing his voice a lot. i did a lot of coffee too. the latte is still sitting on the table.

-

Another about fathers. I have had the breakdown before bohol because of this film - Paul Mescal portrays a father to his 11 year-old daughter as they share a last summer holiday in turkey.

a complex look at sadness, love, fatherhood and youth, life. just. paul mescal deserves it. i am glad this is the first screening i watched him in. normal people would've broken me for sure but this one hit different. and i still cant shake off the weird feeling about him being phoebe bridgers boyfriend. such a weird and cute couple. anyway.

fathers

yes.

-

he told me about his father before. i want to show him this movie. i want to know about how he feels about fatherhood. i want to know him like that.

[happinessisathree-letterword]

(this is not part of the 2023 daily entries but i found it drafted. i miss Aya. she was always so insightful. and Ace, despite his misgivings, he was funny and smart. the discord people kept me sane during the heaviest parts of the pandemic.)

I have no right to love you when I chose to walk away

-

I wonder how Ace would respond if I asked about how he feels these days. Walking the dark strip that is our street a little before ten, I put on the 3 AM playlist he and Aya made. Cringe Stripped. Younger. Mokita. Suspicious Minds. Nearly Morning. Damien Rice's Delicate.

I fell in love with the music. The new ones. The rediscoveries I made. I wasn't there when they made it but I know between the songs exchanged was a recognition of another's soul. I wanted to ask if he really loved Aya. I wonder how painful it might have been for both of them. When Delicate came on, I briefly think about Enzo and how he feels about distances.

Right now it's almost midnight, I've been long past finishing the playlist, and Sleeping at Last's Turning Page is on the play. But I guess I'm still far from sleeping. I keep coming back to what happened between those 3 AM songs. The words only their ears heard, through music so familiar and yet so... strange.

[happinessisathree-letterword]

the last of us

I gleaned from the tweet that you probably have a big trip somewhere with a special person. And I hate that you don't tell me these things anymore. And yet I know why. Because if I learned about them, I'll get hurt.

I genuinely wish I'd come to a day where I'd be genuinely happy for you and your romantic pursuits. Hindi pa lang ngayon. But I miss you so bad. I want to hear your voice, see your face, hold you. I wont deny myself that wanting. That's what I want. I accept where I am now with this -- I still feel for you deeply. Melford said he doesn't know if I'll ever let go of this and maybe he's right.

I remember a meme of Jennifer Anniston in Bruce Almighty. That's me right now.

-

I started watching The Last of Us playthrough. Still in the middle of it. It's quite a heavy game but the art is superb.

The best scene I loved about it so far is the old hotel scene where Joel and Ellie were scouring for supplies at the coffee shop. Plus the jokes that Ellie reads Joel whenever the latter gets to kill the people/hunters in the area.

-

I have a video of this on my phone with my fish, Sushi, in the background and Ellie was reciting a joke about pirates and sushi that she doesn't understand. Maybe this why sushi is always apprehensive about me, because I always joke that when he dies, I'll end up eating him. Poor boy.

-

I cried a lot again. Slept in early and woke up at wee hours.

A cat joined me on my sunset watch, where I took that header photo I used for this post. She's cute, asking for kibbles but I have nothing on me last night. I only have my cigarettes and lighter. She stayed anyway. I gave her belly and back scratches which she seemed to enjoy.

[happinessisathree-letterword]

i am good at being alone but the gray ghost is back

(7/365) it's a tough day.

-

it was a wolf moon, they said. it came like the howling realizations that haunted today. it was sunny but like any day clouds loomed only over my head. i brewed coffee. got some sun. broke in my new shoes and was generally fine in the morning until exhaustion got me. the grey ghost that came with the wolf moon visited me on my bed, asking me questions i did not want to answer. where is this going? are you getting enough love to push through? why are you still here? is this worth fighting for? i knew i would fight for this, for you. but would you? and with the silence i knew that what fight i have, you did not have. the want i have, you di not have. or maybe you do but for another person. and even just the possibility of that sucked the light out of me.

the grey ghost frowned at me like a friend confused. but it no longer spoke. it just sat there heavy on my chest as i whiled the day away.

-

i wanted to say

come to me with everything you have. i want that. come to me with your worries. your wins. the mundane. come to me with the rejection. come to me with all of you, bring your dirty shoes in and leave the prints on my floor. that would be better that the floating ghost that stayed.

-

it's a tough day. barely ate. i question everything. ruminating. i cant even cohesively process that i am just typing away. the only relief of the day was an exchange with dennese - an admiration of the strength in staying, in persevering.

funny because just after this Enzo tweeted a Curb Your Enthusiasm meme that says "You cant greet happy new year after January 7" So I guess pasok ka pa Dennese.

-

I am good at being alone. I can take care of myself most days. But I don't want to. I want to be alone with someone. I want to be able to share how the gray ghost started haunting me again. I want someone who would be sitting by and doing their thing while i do my healing.

i am good at being alone but I am better if i get to share a world with someone i love. in the end that is what i want. a companion to sit with me through the hard days, to hold my hand and say i can go through it. to pat my shoulder when i do. and to be honest i want that to be no other than Enzo.

maybe one day i'll stumble upon these writings again and tell myself how grossly sentimental it sounds. and be proud of how soft i am these days. that in fear i choose to write still.

-

today i

cried to the Benjamin's Dahilan

i saw petma cry because of a boy from Malabon she was seeing

i took too long and too many naps that i cant sleep

the ghost left for a bit, it might come back in the morning

i tried making my journal

i listened to a lot of youtube videos

i waited for enzo

called home and told them about Bohol

[happinessisathree-letterword]

great mornings, and art-drunk fridays

(6/365) Disclaimer: No alcohol was involved in the writing of this blog.

It's been a while since I had a lovely sun-soaked morning in Manila. I awoke with Enzo's phone call updating me on the happenings of his work-related dilemma. It was a welcome phone call. He looked sharp and chipper, far from the distraught Enzo he was the other day. It seemed like all was going OK at work despite his misgivings. It was refreshing to see him smile. Despite my little anxieties about this connection, I know that he's doing better relieved me as well.

After the call, I changed into my mint straps, brewed my morning coffee, and went out to soak in the sun. It has been raining the past week and it was the first time the sun peeked brightly, and albeit short, I basked in the sunshine like I used to on weekends.

After this, I went to the gym and got in my 9k steps and a little more cardio. Did laundry and ate a looooot over lunch. Went protein loading.

I received an invitation to an exhibit opening from Kiko. Dennese, our former officemate is part of a group exhibition that launched today at the Gravity Art Space. I had things lined up for the day -- buy shoes and a journal --but since Kiko only goes out a few times with us, and with him going back to Mexico by month-end, I wanted to join his invite. And it was the best thing I did.

I decided to shop for shoes in Gateway and he was kind enough to offer to pick me up after shopping so we could go together. Ramon joined us too. It was an unexpected trip but worth the Friday hassle.

Here are some snaps from the exhibit

It's been a while since I've been to art shows with Kiko and Ram. Interestingly, the last time I saw Dennese was also on her exhibit in Mabini, and I was also with Ram and Kiko. It was always good to surround yourself with creative spirits.

After the show, we went to have dinner in Nommu, a small, Japanese bar and resto, where Ram and I got hearty seafood ramen - unusual but the sahog that is really legit and filling, cubed salmon, tuna, and shrimp. Soup is always a good choice for cold nights like this.

After Nommu we went for cakes and coffee at Taling's Kitchen. I ordered Coffee Tiramisu and cappuccino. Tiramisu was soooo sweet I had a toothache after eating (literally).

All in all, the night was fun, and getting art drunk on a Friday night has never been this good.

[happinessisathree-letterword]

a birthday post for a ghost, and taking a chance at lotteries

(4/365)

San Miguel Pale Pilsen is a pale, golden lager with a rich, full-bodied flavor. Its smooth, full-flavored taste complements its pleasant aroma, making it a perfectly balanced beer. It has a unique heritage of bringing people together, nourishing true friendships for over a hundred years. Alcohol Content: 5%  ABV

-

You can read the word "Miguel" on a San Miguel Pale Pilsen bottle eight times. My personal record for drinking this beer in particular is eight bottles. (9 bottles for Red Horse, but that's another story).

I've known him for six years but I never really knew him. I've known him for six years. I have two more years to forget. I'm not drunk.

I wrote about him a lot.

In 2017, in a dingy room in Cagayan de Oro, amid a three-day theatre coverage we stayed up until 4 AM getting to know each other and in that night I felt like I'd known him for years. I was quick to note his squeaky mousy voice. He speaks the Ilocano of the northeast. I was in Cagayan de Oro, and he was in Cagayan. Funny how distance had always been a theme of the important relationships in my life.

Today is his birthday. Or is it? I might never know but his name will forever be engraved in those wretched bottles. I might never know how his lips would taste. I'd rather kiss an SMB Pale's lips anyway. It would probably taste sweeter, a little less bitter. Cheers to the ghost of us.

-

Today was a day full of meetings. Over lunch, we decided to walk around to get cash from the ATM and look for foodstuff. On our way back, we passed a lotto outlet and decided to bet. The documentation was provided on IG. LMAO.

20 pesos. Six numbers. 8 million in prize.

8-9-18-24-29-30

January 4 might not be a lucky day. I only got one number. 24. The number of hours in a day. Enzo's birthdate. Kobe's jersey number. Sometimes that's all you have. A set of numbers, a few coins, and the courage to lose, or the courage to win, or just the courage to take a chance.

[happinessisathree-letterword]

death by 9k steps joy walking

(3/365)

I was dead walking. Walking Dead.

It's 3 am and I woke up with brain fog, trying to remember last night. The room smells slightly like daing. (As I write in my head I have a pun on dying and daing as both smelly processes). Salty air, the smell of dead fish. Wonderful. Faith was cooking breakfast when I came into my room last night. It was supposed to be a nap, a break before the bathing. After a long day with no smoking in between, I decided to cap with two sticks and finish the remaining steps of my 9K goal. After walking, I was dead tired and I did not realize this until I let my back fall onto my mattress.

Even in my dream, I was dead walking.

I used to call it joywalking. Another pun on jaywalking, no direction, and breaking rules. There are days when it still feels like that. Leisurely. Wandering in the waking hour. With or without a particular task in mind. Along Faura to eat at the Diner or visit Manong Frankie's bookshop. Along Roxas Boulevard to maybe go to CCP and see galleries. Within the walls of Intramuros. In the plaza in Camiling, or around town really.

For a brief moment yesterday, it felt like that. Like I was just letting my feet lead me out. But unlike my other joywalks, the course was predetermined. Only the mind wanders in this route. Feet stay the short course available to me at the hour.

Usually, it's off the elevator, onto the courtyard or the hallway to the lobby if it's raining or it's past 10PM, down the steps towards the driveway shaped like a keyhole. My building is in the middle of three high-rises. I turn right towards the gate near the guardhouse. Chonky the Cat or Brownie watching me from the glass walls, I nod to them asking for permission to start this way. Chonky just stares back. And I walk the outline of the island and plants, going west towards the circular patch of land where I take my smoke on park benches, near the basketball court. I estimate a back-and-forth walk to be around 1k steps depending on the cadence.

I was dead walking. Walking dead from the workload of the day. A bottle of water in hand. My keys and keycard dangling from my neck, singing as I take a step, a step, a step. Two sticks of cigarette and a lighter in my pocket. Sal plays in the background, reading stars, and wearing his Lakers shirt (Random fact: Today was the Day Donovan Mitchell made 71 points, the highest single-game score among active players in the league. This is after Kobe's record 81-point run during a Lakers-Raptors Game in 2006). I remember last night's phone call and I feel alive. Until the last stick was done.

I was dead walking. Buried at 9:51 on my goth chick bed. Now I am awake at 3:31 with a fucked up body clock.

[happinessisathree-letterword]

2023 SLEEPY HEAD GOALS

(2/365)

I want to remember it like this. You, sleepy on the other end of the line. Eyes still closed. Yawning. I tell you about suyaab, the Ilocano word for yawn. You should tell your lola, I say. And instead, you told me about her holiday back home. How she - and I say this playfully and adorably - spied on her helper on Christmas eve. I think her name was Amy. Or was it Lea? Amy.

And you close your eyes again. The camera tilts. I see your room. Your grey pillowcase with what seems to be wheat. I tell you how my sheets were new and all black. You joked about me being a goth chick. And you told me about Henry Ford who said, "Any customer can have a car painted in any color as long as it's black." I didn't know Henry Ford. You laugh. I told you how I used to love blue but now I love black more and how it makes all the other colors pop when you put it on as background. You close your eyes again. You are seeing black and a myriad of lights, I hope.

I remember saying it out loud. How I miss this. You, waking up on a cold winter morning, telling me about the crazy weather. Inconsistent you say. And yet isn't the weather supposed to change much in the days? You said you could go out without winter clothes at that temperature. I imagine myself next to you, probably shivering. I would never get used to the cold. Or maybe with you, I will.

I told you how I disappointed my mom on the first day of the year. I felt you tense up even across seas. Maybe you weren't used to me being this vulnerable. But I told you anyway. And you listened. And in the end, you said 'Do it for your mom. Ibigay mo na sa kaniya yon.' and I knew you were right then. You could let me know what I needed to hear without judgment. That's what I liked about us.

Through groggy voices and choppy lines, we tell each other our goals for 2023. How you wanted aesthetic maxing -- japorms for even the merest task. Even when just buying suka, you said. And wanting to live independently. And fasting. But you didn't ask about my goals.

So I said I wanted to embrace femininity. Yes. More heels. More sundresses.

I remember the orange one I bought for Bohol but I never got to use it, too bright for the weather. I didn't think I'd be able to pull it off. I feel like sometimes I am too bro. Am I too bro? You think? No. I don't think you are as bro because you feel you are. I don't tell my bros my anxieties. And for a bit maybe you saw me the way I wanted you to see me. Julia Roberts in Notting Hill. I'm just a girl standing (lying down on videocalls) in from of a sleepy boy, asking him to love her.

In the middle of it all, a little voice in my head says, he's sweet but there are other women in his life. He wouldn't tell you about them because he knows it will hurt you. But you know anyway. And there are days you seek out confirmation.

-

I come back to the poem I wrote for you when we first met. Sleepy eyed. Only, our timezones were reversed this time.

--

Some things that happened (Jan 2) :

watched Nocebo

almost adopting a dog

traveled back to manila with sushi

got a new tank

[happinessisathree-letterword]

DAY 1

(1/365)

Just like that, the first day of the year is over. The day was exhausting which makes me think if setting firsts would be a trend this is not a good way to start the year. But I did stuff today, some gave me guilt and some made me proud.

Last night, on NY eve, I asked Enzo if he could be my last and first phone for the year. I thought I am not going to make it or send it because of fear and because of jealousy. But I did and he, kind of the people pleaser that he is, obliged. I kind of feel both. Guilty and proud. But also a bit disappointed because I did not get to spend his new year with him. Which got me thinking about whether he wanted to spend it with someone else instead. Totally possible. Totally painful to process. But I guess that's just something I gotta live with until I can let go of the feelings I have for him.

-

There's nothing like the taste of guilt and disappointment if you made your mom cry for the pettiest reasons. This morning we woke up to the ring of the family group chat. She wanted us to go to church with her. I think this was something she expressed on NYE but I was either too busy smoking out. It was 8 AM. Everyone was still groggy because we slept waaaay past our usual bedtime. She got antsy early and decided to leave for church while leaving a long message on the GC. Apparently, she waited for us at the church to pray with her. She finished two masses and still, we did not go. My sister and my Papa went to bring her back which she did only to leave after eating lunch. She said she needed her 'me' time.

I felt it all. I kind of knew I got these emotions from my Mom's side. She was always strong, courageous, she wanted a good life and she believed in good. I got my heart from her. So when I saw her come home with swollen eyes, I knew we hurt her today. And that quietly broke me. Because I know that feeling of having no one. I felt it cut her.

The thing is, on my end, what caused me not to go is that I needed a break from all the people interaction and I am no longer the obedient daughter who says yes to my parents' whims always. I am no longer religious. Sure I pray. Sure I believe in something more powerful that is beyond what the mind can comprehend. But this morning I knew that if I go, I would not be proud of myself. This one stems from the "if you were to pick between disappointing someone and disappointing yourself, choose to disappoint that someone" I took that road. Not knowing how I would also feel the guilt of hurting my mom in the process. I guess finding the balance here is hard because of how I am attached to her and that there is a certain level of understanding of her pain.

But what's done is done. I can only try not to disappoint her further after this.

-

Because of that guilt feeling I:

1/ exercised 2/ drank beer and walked. kind of a bad idea. i ended up eating balut, isaw, and chicken and fries 3/ met ysay and her new boyfie by chance at the usual cafe. I look like shit when I met them because of no. 2 4/ took long naps to deflect the emotion

These are things that I should be working on more this year.

-

I want to hear Enzo. Im going to listen to stuff while smoking.

It's January 2 already

[happinessisathree-letterword]

I asked my heart if he was proud to have loved this much, this deep.

Yes.

[happinessisathree-letterword]

"To fall, to love, is to be prey to accident."

From Pete Sampra's Neck by Ian Casocot in Old Movies and other stories

[happinessisathree-letterword]

Last night, I dreamt of kissing you. It was real, so much so that I felt your lips brush lightly against mine before everything disappeared into that moment. That shared breath. That quiver. The roughness on the lips. The fingers tracing the side of your face.

I didn't want to wake up. Not yet. Please, not yet. I held you briefly and dived into the eyes that were looking back at me.

And then it was done.

But then again it is not.

Lids flutter open and the distance comes rushing back in. And yet, from a thousand miles away, across oceans, I feel you. I know in another universe I was kissing you. I am kissing you. Oh to have a glimpse of it.

[happinessisathree-letterword]

From Your Letters Summer as part of the Convos of Us Project