otherwise engaged.

a random mental scrapbook for things rescued from the detritus of everyday, maintained
by an impossibly romantic, oftentimes obsessive compulsive, but always incredibly
unfrazzled and beautiful (or so she'd like to think), bride-to-be.
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A woman who writes feels too much,those trances and portents!
As if cycles and children and islands weren't enough;
as if mourners and gossips and vegetables were never enough.
She thinks she can warn the stars. A writer is essentially
a spy. Dear love,
I am that girl. --from THE BLACK ART by Anne Sexton

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

This used to be my playground.

This morning I went to The Shrine of St. Michael and the Archangels, or the San Miguel Church, as it is more popularly known, to get my certificate of confirmation. I don't know why they require the certificate of confirmation now--they did not require it of Jun when he got married in 1997. This makes me imagine that the CBCP (Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines) is forever cooking up ways to make getting married difficult so that it can recruit young men into the priesthood, haha.The San Miguel Church is right beside the San Miguel Palace. It's been years since I've seen the inside of Mendiola, which has been closed off to regular traffic, and I remember it must have been back in college, just after the Edsa I Revolution, that I was last there.

It was a trip down memory lane, as I passed by La Concordia, in the auditorium of which I had my first (and come to think of it, only) piano recital. I remember that day, Gigi and I were in similar white dresses with orange and brown flowers with bows at the back which Mommy especially had the dressmaker make for us for the occasion. I was indifferent, Gigi hated it. She hated it that we always had to wear similar clothes. She hated we had to wear clothes sewn by the dressmaker and not bought off-the-rack. But she hated it most when she had to wear hand-me-downs. Me, I couldn't care any less. I was a happier child, I guess.

But for all her angst (and perhaps because of it), Gigi was the better pianist between the two of us. I think she played "Come Back to Sorrento" as her solo recital piece; I forget what mine was--I think it was "Edelweiss" which our teacher Mrs. Hilario had especially simplified for me. I was so nervous when I sat down to play. I flubbed the first passage by hitting a wrong note. Then my mind went blank. And so I started the piece all over again. Then Gigi joined me onstage and we played our duet.