bye waves

On the second day of the new year, I did the weirdest thing in my entire life. After rounding up my grocery items, I chanced upon a barbershop on my way out of the supermarket, and maybe due to the shaking of the cosmos, decided to get a trim. I was perfectly contented with my shoulder-length wavy locks, except for those stubborn strands that stick out in opposing angles. In fact, I am in the spectrums’ opposite end of the idea of getting or donning something new after 365 days, but I entered the shop anyway. Now sitting on a chair that I hadn’t sat on for a long time, I told the barber flatly: “Ikaw na ang ang bahala” (It’s up to you).

Surprisingly—and luckily—I was happy with the results. I have to use less shampoo this time (And by the way, if you're curious, it all looks like that thumbnail photo to your right, only shorter).

parentless

March 13, before Valentine’s Day, was honors day. Luckily, on my fourth year, I still made it to the roster of nanings. You know what a naming is? This is a kind of breed who works very hard to achieve what’s supposed to be achieved for our parents and significant others to be proud of their spent hard-earned monthly salaries. This sounds too negative but positive nevertheless.

But wait. Yesterday, I was lonely. My parents didn’t arrive. Due to weather conditions that troubled daring sea fastcrafts to be slow, my mother and sister went back to their homes in Tagbilaran and called me that they can’t come see me do the walk in the Claire Isabel McGill Luce Auditorium. Their trip was cancelled. Okay, I still have my acquaintances to cheer me up. Well, so much for my anticipation to see mum’s face, complaining about my new hairdo.

And yes, my hairdo. This is a blatant projection of narcissism but I just adore the way people stare at it. I may have a few minutes to show it off on stage (and pat SU President Ben S. Malayang at the back for an inside joke) but the cameras, whispers, cheers, and hollers love me. Eat that you boring people!

Next stop: Graduation day.

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tress adieu

The Bullfrog says goodbye. Not to anyone in particular that you know but to his long dark locks. I bid farewell to my hair. It has been four months, trying out style after style until it is tamed by the splendor of cheap headbands. Yes, the red, black, and white ones. The classics. Though some literally cringe at its sight, I have all the pride in the world to flaunt it, parade it for all the people to see every day. Of course, the hair is everyone’s crowning glory and mine is just as precious. But why cut it? I guess it has its fifteen minutes of fame by now. And I need something new to pull off this February. Yes, something extraordinary, something bizarre. Oh, just wait and see.

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