Monthly Archives: May 2013

Say hello to The Mixed Tape Game.

Five more days before I move out!

Well okay, not entirely.  I’ll be home for the weekends, with my mom and Potchi, i.e., Charlie’s little Alaskan Malamute sister, fetching me every week from my temporary home inside the campus grounds.

But it’s not just really “moving out.”  It’s college — ehem, Unibersidad ng Pilipinas, — which means a new form of pressure, but also means I’m given a fresh start.  Not entirely a clean slate, but it’s all good.  It’s also time for new traditions.

Mixed tape week’s starting with June’s last.  Time to make some new friends in a relatively peculiar fashion, (or maybe I’ll just run away right after taking their photo with it.)  Feel free to play along, but please give me some credit at the least.


Here’s how this game is played:

  1. Make a playlist for the month for the first three weeks.  The songs should be relative to how the month’s going, or pretty much just the music phase you’re into for that month.  It should have at least 7 songs, 12 at maximum.  Save your list on iTunes or a random folder.
  2. Burn your playlist on a CD.  Give it a name.  Provide a case and customize a cover.  Give a word, a phrase, or a sentence to describe your playlist at the back of the cover.  Put these instructions (how to play the game) at the back as well.  Write your name if you feel like it.  DON’T PUT THE TRACK LISTING.
  3. Take a picture of your mixed tape.
  4. Within the last week of the month, you HAVE to give away that mixed tape. (Don’t worry, you saved the playlist on your computer anyway.)
  5. You can’t give it away to just anyone, though.  It should be to someone you don’t know — a complete stranger, but part of the school community who you think at first glance wouldn’t waste your mixed tape.  Or maybe to someone you would really like to know more, but only know that person’s name.
  6. Go up to them and tell them you’re playing the Mixed Tape Game.  Ask for their name, and introduce yourself.  Shake hands or something, idk.
  7. Take her/his picture.
  8. Say thank you and be on your way.
  9. Keep in touch if you can.  Repeat steps for the next month.

I’ll be documenting whatever progress I gain here.

Cheers to both the new and the unchanging!


I wonder if you

can see

how I still try to look for you around the house

and how I still lay myself down on the floor near the top step, just waiting

realizations may come late, but you still


irreplaceable, while everything else moves on with

everything intact



except for yours truly 


I hate seeing you like this.

You’ve never pressed your nose against my tummy this hard before.  And even to them, never were you submissive in the past.  Thrice they’ve tried pushing the blockage out and flushing it in and out with no success, and that is painful.  They put you on sedatives to get you out cold so they could cut you open — a few hours later they cut you up again.  Your bladder’s three, four times its normal size and lined with sandy crystals that are supposedly only on a microscopic level, and your urethra already has infection.  Your liver and kidneys may be affected as well.  You were castrated, and you never even got to try it out.  Now you have a semi-permanent catheter in you with a new hole in your tummy, and it’s spewing out blood along with the urine from your bladder –at least it was a successful operation.  Let’s not mention the medicine aftermath.  

You’ve never been in so much pain.

I know you’ve gotten tired.  Your growl’s gotten wilder and so has your pain.  You won’t eat in your ward unless it’s from my hand, and you won’t let anyone touch you aside from me– and that’s just your head.  You won’t even let me near your torso with your cone of shame. And honestly I couldn’t be happier that you’ve started fighting again.

Three hospitals and more than 53 hours of nonstop agony for us, but we both know you’re strong.  You’re so much stronger than I am.

They say you’re very resilient.  You get up early from the anesthetics.  That your pain may have been going on for a long time, that you would just rather hide it than show that you’re weak.  They say you’re still playing along with Charles Darwin, that it’s the weakest who go first, and so you hide and you fight until you really can’t tolerate the pain and you just have to show us that it’s gotten really bad.  I’m so sorry we didn’t catch it early on.  I’m so sorry you had to hide.

You’ve been through so much, but you’re still pretty young so, no, I’m not losing you just yet.  I’m not giving up on you.  You’re the only one (other than my mom) who I’m pretty sure loves me as much as I love you.  I know we might be losing a few years from your life expectancy, but until then, I’m not settling for your ashes hanging around my neck.  I’m not settling for anything less than you living, breathing, enjoying, and getting annoyed by yours truly.

Baby, this is far from being over.
I love you, Charlie.  Keep fighting.