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Do you know that game where you share two stories-one true and one false-then your listeners will guess which one is the true story and which one is the lie? It’s a fun game! And we did it for a writing class in school. We had to write two super short stories-one true and one false-then read them in front of class so the classmates could guess which one is which.

I guess the activity shows how good a person is in fictionalizing stuff. And I did pretty well in this exercise because only about four people in class guessed the true story! So anyway, here it is and I challenge you, Candy Girls, to guess which one is the true story and which one is the lie!

Yes

It was Algebra class when I received a piece of paper with the most serious question I had to answer as an eleven-year-old high school freshman: “Will you be my girlfriend?” it said. Two seats away from me was the sender-the tallest, whitest guy in class, shyly hiding his head between the pages of our textbook. It’s funny how I didn’t think at all. I wrote, “YES,” with a smiley face and passed it back to him.

We’d meet at the stairwell at the rear of the high school building every Wednesday and Friday afternoon. It was our secret place, secluded enough to hide us from the prying eyes of the faculty and nuns. Relationships aren’t encouraged in our strict Catholic school so everyone had to be precautious. We had friends as watch dogs to look out for passersby. They’d scream our secret warning code or just come dashing to us. If we didn’t have enough time to run and hide, he’d cover me with his back so people wouldn’t see me. He was that big. Or I was that small.

When all is clear, I’d lean on the dirty white wall and he’d stand in front of me. It was picture perfect, us talking about random stuff under the orange glow of the sunset. Postcard perfect, even.

***

No!!!

It was Algebra class when I received a piece of paper with the most serious question I had to answer as an eleven-year-old high school freshman: “Will you be my girlfriend?” it said. Two seats away from me was the sender-the tallest, whitest guy in class, grinning widely behind the pages of our textbook. Did he seriously think I’d say “YES” to an idiot like him? I had better things to do. I wrote a screaming “NO,” followed by three exclamation marks then I crumpled the paper and threw it back to him.

He was still very persistent. He’d go to my desk every single break time sometimes with offerings of Zesto juice or mango shake accompanied by a two-peso worth banana-q sold at the canteen. Not wanting them to go to waste, I’d accept these gifts and give them to the patay gutom guys in class. His friends would hound me and ask why I’m playing so hard to get. And I’d just look at them and shrug, “whatever.” He knew this, of course he knew I gave away his gifts, of course he knew I didn’t care a centavo ‘cause I openly showed him my indifference.

It took him two months and many more Zesto packs and mango juices and two-peso worth banana-qs to finally, finally give up and move on to another girl.

***

So, Candy girls, which one do you think really happened to me?

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I AM an extremely hairy person. I have been like this ever since I can remember.

When God bestowed hair onto the human race, I was in the middle row behind the Arabs and before the Japanese. I don’t look like a werewolf. Nope, I don’t look like a mix between a really hairy animal and a human. I’m just a girl born with a lot of body hair.

From my tresses to my eyebrows to the long wispy strands connected to my arms and legs, I had always more hair than my friends.

Some say it’s a blessing, others say it’s a curse, I say it’s both.

Here’s the deal about my hair. It isn’t naturally straight or artfully curly. It most definitely isn’t fine, light, or fresh-looking. My hair is horrible. The strands are very thick. No matter how much conditioner and oil I soak in it, my hair sticks out stiff as if I am continuously electrocuted. It’s wavy and curly at the same time. The only solution to make my hair acceptable in society is to rebond it and I was addicted to that treatment for the longest time. Let’s just say that I have had enough rebonding to last me till I grow bald—and I almost grew bald one summer when out of impulsiveness, I had my hair straightened and after the treatment, my locks rubberized. Whenever I would comb it with my fingers, the strands would stretch then break like cooked spaghetti. That was a terrible moment for me.

As a kid, I always toyed with the idea that my hair will eventually decide on how it wants to look like. I saw it as a confused person who didn’t know whether it would be totally curly or just wavy. I even thought that it could still transform, by some sort of miracle, into the kind of hair most Asian girls have—straight, fine, and wonderfully shiny.

So I wore everything that I thought would make my hair look better. Butterfly clips, headbands, glitter clamps—name it, I had it!

Of course, stepping into high school meant growing up and leaving all the childish things behind. And that included my wide butterfly clips collection.

I opted to use one hairstyle that I considered a sign of maturity—the full ponytail. It was so easy to do. My hair was up to my shoulder and like I said, it was in the middle of wavy and curly. Mommy bought me a set of multi-colored hair ties but I always used the pink one with a jeweled flower with hot pink petals and a golden center because it matched my bag and uniform.

I thought that my hair looked okay already until I realized that I had extremely stubborn baby curls growing on the place where the hair starts and the forehead ends.

And so I got acquainted with rebond.  Ever since my first ever rebond session when I was 12 years old, I have had about seven to nine treatments already, one cheap and simple straightening, and one expensive but safer straight therapy.

“Magkaka-cancer ka,” Mommy told me one morning when I was begging her to please, please allow me to have my hair rebonded.

“Ano ba, Mari,” she looked at me with a concerned look, “You know what happened last time.” And when she said that, I knew that it was the end of our conversation.

What happened last time was that my hair rubberized and fell off. It turned into angel hair spaghetti strands that broke easily even with just the slightest amount of pressure. It was frightening. After the treatment, I dug my fingers into my hair to flip it. When, my fingers came in contact with it, the strands stretched and I suddenly heard snapping. “Pack! Pack! Pack!” my hair broke. I was so afraid that I’d go bald that I didn’t comb it for a couple of days until I was certain that it was strong enough to handle the plastic teeth of my Denman comb.

“Okay, Ma,” I said. That was June 2007. Come December that same year, Mommy offered to have my hair rebonded at the new parlor of her friend Cring-Cring.

Last na, I swore to myself. I knew the drill already by heart. I’d enjoy six months of straight, no-worry, tresses, but after that, my original hair would’ve grown back. Finding the perfect style for a half-naturally curly and half-artificially straightened hair was always a difficult and an extremely tricky task because I didn’t want to look like those girls who think it is okay to just leave the curly and straight hair together without even trying to improve its look.

A year later, I made the biggest hair decision I have ever made. And that was to chop off all the treated hair. Why? Well, it was a really hot season and I couldn’t take more of my long, half-straight and half-curly hair. All I wanted was to feel fresh and I couldn’t achieve that while constantly worrying about how my hair looked like. So there. I let go of five inches and many years worth of rebonding and styling. I let go of past bad hair days and welcomed new ones with my natural locks.

And you know what? I’m happy with my hair now. Unruly curls and all.

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She has been trying to catch his eye for the past thirty minutes already. Her hand slides up and down a guy friend’s back and her head nods to the beat of the pulsating music but her mind is obviously elsewhere.

It’s all in her dark brown eyes, everything to know about her and how she feels tonight, it’s all there. She occasionally smiles and brushes her cheeks at whomever—old friends, current friends, new friends—she smiles at them all and nods her head in harmony with the music.

She has been looking at him for the past thirty minutes already. Her hair is messier with all the hands that ruffled or attempted to ruffle her curly locks. Her smile is brighter, her eyes are wider, and her laugh, oh, her laugh, it’s as full as ever. But her mind is obviously elsewhere.

***

He has been fighting the urge to go over and introduce himself to her for thirty minutes already. His shoulder feels heavy under the weight of his friend’s head, his drunken friend’s head, and he obviously wants to push him away.

It’s all in his dark brown eyes, everything to know about him and how he feels tonight, it’s all there. He looks at his friend and wonders why, oh, why he puts up with his alcoholism. He’s an old friend, that’s why. His friend wakes up, pats his back and stands up.

He has been looking at her for the past thirty minutes already. Arms crossed, he looks bored. But he’s not, no, not bored at all. He’s getting annoyed, impatient at himself. Too slow, he’s being too slow. He’s still staring at her, the bright-eyed girl whose smile causes his chest to thump a bit.

***

She’s still staring at him, thinking whether she should just go and say “Hi.”

He’s still staring at her, thinking whether he should just go and say “Hi.”

They both stand up and their eyes hugged.

Smile. Thump.

“Hi.”

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Think of a person who has the power to clear your mind, jellify your legs, disable your speech, and form your mouth into wobbly, self-conscious smile just by smiling at you with a simple “Hi?”

Professor X from X-Men? Well, I think he can do that with his power and all but aside from him, who else? Zac Efron? Zac isn’t from X-Men but a lot of girls crush on him! Brad Pitt? Yes, him too! And I can list down a dozen more names but that’s okay ‘cause I think you get my point.

People you crush on have this power to paralyze you. You find yourself smiling when you see him walk by. You find yourself writing his name beside your name and combining both names to form a word-the future name of your imaginary children. Haha.

“Ate Mar, you’re so lame,” my younger brother, Zac, said. He just read the first two paragraphs of this blog. Haha. Okay, I guess I’m being lame but I can’t wait to throw him back his words when the time comes that he falls in-crush.

Here’s a survey entitled “Crush Survey” which I got from my friend. I really had fun answering it!

1. Sinong mas matangkad sa inyo ng crush mo?
   Him, of course!!! :)  The first time I saw him, I thought, “Whooo. Tangkad.”
2. Ano ang kulay nya?
   Kulay ng? Hair: Black. Skin: uhm. White? haha
3. Sino mas matanda sa inyo?
   Him! But as the saying goes, “Age doesn’t matter unless you’re cheese.” This line has been stuck in my head for ages and I still don’t remember where I picked it up.
4. Kailan mo sya last nakita?
   Last night. In my dreams. Hahaha. For real.
5. Kailan mo sya last nakausap?
   Last night. In my dreams. I think he said, “I like you.” A girl can dream!
6. Close kayo?
   I wish! Again, a girl can wish. Haha.
7. Ano klase buhok nya?
   Long-ish? Black. But I think he dyed his hair once. Hahaha.
8. Magaling sumayaw?
   No idea.
9. Magaling kumanta?
   YES. YES. YES. SUPER. Hahaha.
10. Alam ba nya na crush mo sya?
    I think? I’m so paranoid. I think he knows.
11. Kilala ka ba nya?
    Maybe as the friend of my friend. Hahaha.
12. Alam nya name mo?
    I HAVE NO IDEA.
13. Naka-text mo na?
    Nope. Hahaha. No reason to!
14. May karibal ka?
    I think so? He’s too cute. Hahaha.
15. Gaano katagal mo na sya crush?
    THREE YEARS. Beat that. Hahaha! Can I say, unrequited like to the next level?
16. Saan mo sya unang nakita?
    Debut of my friend. Oh, I love debuts. He was wearing blue. Hahaha. I was wearing blue, too. Meant to be!!! Hahaha.
17. Sasabihin mo ba sa kanya someday?
    Maybe. When I’m sure that we don’t see each other again. Hahaha.
18. Anong pangalan nya?
    I call him Bee. I have a friend who calls him Storm. Hahahahaha. Oh, we girls just love code names!
19. Narinig mo na ba boses nya?
    Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup. And it’s a voice I’ll never forget. Hahaha. Okay. Halata bang crush na crush ko sya?
    
20. Kilala ba siya ng mga friends mo?
    Yes. They all know him. Except for me.
21. E kilala mo ba mga friends nya?
    Yup. Hehe. It’s a small, small world!
22. Pano pag nabalitaan niyang crush mo sya?
    I always think of the worst possible scenario. So, my imagination tells me that he might say, “Who?” or worse, “Ya, I knew” or “So?” Kidding. He’s a good person. Hahaha.
23. E pano naman kung crush ka din nya?
    Ay shucks. Nakilig naman ako sa question. Hahaha. I’m speechless.
24. Ano sa tingin mo mangyayari sa inyo pag nalaman niya?
    Surprise!!!
25. Last na toh (yes with an H), message mo sa kanya…
    You make me smile. NAAAAAAAAAAAAAKS. Hahaha.

Go ahead and answer this too!

Posted in Etcetera | 3 Comments »

If you log in to my Multiply account and check the Inbox, you’d see dozens of photo and journal entries of my friends talking about their first beach trip and their second beach trip and their third beach trip and so on. And as I look and comment on their albums, I can’t help but feel a teeny bit sad for myself because I haven’t gone to any beaches ever since summer began.

Well, I’m not exactly the “Sun, Sand, Sea” type of girl-I prefer staying in an air-conditioned coffee shop and reading or writing or talking my heart out-but I guess I want to experience the fun and laughter accompanied by the splashing of water during the day and the circle of friendship surrounding a huge bonfire at night. Yup, I want to experience the ultimate beach family or barkada outing.

But since I’m not in the province where the nearest beach resort is ten minutes away from my house, my dream vacation is not just possible right now. I live in Quezon City and as far as I know, there are no beaches near my place. I’d have to go to Batangas with my friends if I really, really want to get wet with salt water. Hah. Hah. Hah. But my friends are all so busy with their summer plans that our schedules don’t meet at all!

I don’t want to lose hope. Summer can still be fun without the beach! I mean, there are a lot more things to do! Like watch movies at the theater with two of my favorite people in the world-my dad and my younger brother, Zac-and hangout, read, and write in Starbucks, or swim at the condo pool with whoever can swim with me, or watch TV series! I’m currently in love with Gossip Girl and 90210.

And of course, there’s the Candy work. I love the stuff I’ve been doing for Candy! I’m really grateful that I got to spend my summer as an intern for Candy mag. J And one day, I felt extra blessed when I accompanied Miss Mimi and Miss Roch to a press conference at the Manila Ocean Park.

photos by Mimi Tiu

I love fish. I eat a lot of them. Hah. Hah. Hah. I was really excited to go to Ocean Park. I felt like a kid again! Well, I always feel like a kid but you know, the thought of going around a huge aquarium and seeing exotic animals brought about the preschooler in me. You see, I didn’t have the chance to go on fieldtrips because they weren’t offered in the schools I went to.

So anyway, we went around Ocean Park and ooh-ed and aah-ed at the diverse collection of species. Of all the fishes, I loved the colorful, tropical ones best. They’re just so colorful! Although I noticed that the clown fishes seemed a bit down… But anyway, going around Ocean Park was a real upper! It wasn’t the beach but it was close to the beach! And there were fishes-more fishes than I’d ever see during a beach outing! Well, except if I go scuba diving-and that reminds me that I actually had scuba diving lessons before… And I’m babbling now.

Oh well, it may be rainy but summer is not yet over! More time to do more stuff!

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