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Lance ended up with bruises in an attempt, perhaps, to stop me from going to yesterday’s affair. After moments of hesitation, I decided to ignore him and speed off. The effort was worth it.

I witnessed one of the prettiest weddings I have ever attended. No, wait. It tops my list simply because the flower girls had rainbow colored wings. And I had fun (which rarely happens to me on weddings) because I saw college friends I haven’t seen or heard of in ages. And it was great to see Ipe and Cris so happy. And I got to wear a pretty blue item (haha.. that’s just it, really!).

Anyways, I was tasked to have people sign the signature frame. It’s relatively easy compared to what the other Varsi people did.. like organize the whole thing (great job, louie and lynda and everyone else who helped!). I was glad to do it for Ipe and Cris, but I figured with the minute amount of patience I can spare strangers, the job just wasn’t for me. I’d approach a guest with a smile, hand her the frame and the pen, give her a moment to think of a message, she writes, I move on to the next guest. What bugged me were guests who take forever in thinking of a message. I keep an impatient smile, until I end up crossing my arms, tapping my foot and clearing my throat. Some people just don’t get it! There were more than 200 guests and the reservation’s just up to 9 p.m. I can be more forgiving to creative and sincere messages but ten minutes of thinking is waaaay too much for you to just jot down cliches like congratulations and best wishes! Ugh!

But it was fun. And I guess any wedding would be fun as long as it’s not mine

I ate four meals today, which is quite unusual. Anyway, a friend joined me on my third, and some time during the conversation over chicken and palabok, he recited very familiar lines from a poem I initially encountered back in college. It was written by Ophelia Dimalanta, who eventually became my professor in creative writing (of course, she is not to be blamed for my lousy pieces).

A Kind of Burning

it is perhaps because
one way or the other
we keep this distance
closeness will tug as apart
in many directions
in absolute din
how we love the same
trivial pursuits and
insignificant gewgaws
spoken or inert
claw at the same straws
pore over the same jigsaws
trying to make heads or tails
you take the edges
i take the center
keeping fancy guard
loving beyond what is there
you sling at the stars
i bedeck the weeds
straining in song or
profanities towards some
fabled meeting apart
from what dreams read
and suns dismantle
we have been all the hapless
lovers in this wayward world
in almost all kinds of ways
except we never really meet
but for this kind of burning.
***

Sometimes people just stay for a certain kind of burning. The lack of diversity, for what it is worth, makes the whole thing a sad encounter.