following instructions for dummies

Ice creams are not exactly good for my diet but I figured that the longer I hold off my craving, the more I will be consumed by it; consequently, the more I will over consume. Plus, I was given this bottle of Smucker's Magic Shell that I have wanted to try for weeks now. It is the chocolate topping that hardens when drizzled over ice cream. The two make for pretty good and valid justifications as to why I brought home a gallon of Double Dutch ice cream two Saturdays ago.

With three scoops of heaven in my cup, I reached for the chocolate topping bottle, flipped the lid open, and poured a hefty amount of syrup all over the ice cream. However, the process and presentation was not as magical as I thought it would be. It took a couple of seconds before the chocolate hardened. It was eternity for a boy like me. Also, there was an oil-like fluid that flowed out of the bottle prior to the supposed content. I still ate it anyway. Halfway through, I took a slight interest in reading the text at the back of the bottle. It read:

Magic Shell works best when SHAKEN VERY WELL, BEFORE EACH USE, turn bottle upside down and shake well for at least 20 seconds. If Magic Shell BECOMES THICK and does not flow easily, or IF OIL SEPARATION OCCURS, run the bottle under hot tap water for up to 2 minutes, shaking occasionally. DO NOT REFRIGERATE. If refrigerated or stored in a cool place, Magic Shell will harden. Run under hot water until Magic Shell turns liquid. Store at room temperature.

The label explained everything. It was my fault the magic did not happen but it was all good. An ice cream is still an ice cream regardless if it is served with Smucker's Magic Shell topping or not.

It got me thinking. Apparently, using Smucker's Magic Shell is complex enough to warrant verbal instructions, while other pressing matters such as coping with loss, mending hearts, soul searching, finding connections, post-date follow ups and other life crises are left to our internal intuitive knowledge. They do not come with absolute dos and don'ts so I figure they ought to be handled in the simplest, least stressful way possible.

in search of a good read, pt. I

Good books are rare gems but time and technology made it possible for quality reads to be more common than they were. In the vastness of the Internet, writers and dreamers alike claimed anonymous space where spontaneous emotional outpourings are encouraged, displays of literary prowess are appreciated. Their mere existence is acknowledged; their significance, validated.

Web diaries have become one of my constant sources of material. It is a part of my daily regimen to sift through my bookmarks, go through each post, and in the process, update myself on the intricate lives of virtual strangers. I would like to think that we're more connected than we think we are.

Naturally, I am curious. I love to know what goes on in their heads. I want to see firsthand how they perceive the world. Blogs are their avenue for unrestricted thought transfer, straight from writer to reader. Their writings capture and immortalize the myriad experiences of life. In turn, reading them gives me insights and knowledge I would not normally learn.

Over the years, I have amassed links that caught my liking. Literary geniuses whose words flourish like stars on a hot summer night. Writers who takes the most mundane of things and transform them into a body that is most certainly appealing. Those who invariably throw in $10 words, those who successfully pull off pop culture references, or those who make stream-of-consciousness entries - they are all impressive. Eloquence is such a turn on. However, nothing is as stirring than a work that is genuine. That's one character that most lack. Good thing there are a few that I have luckily stumbled onto.

Then life happened. Career, academics and more of life made it impossible for me to appreciate the blogosphere as much as I used to. While I miss writing, I actually miss reading quality material more. Where are the wordsmiths when you need them.

last valentine's

Rent, the Musical is the first play I have seen since college. I watched it with the King on Valentine's Day last year. I had our tickets reserved ninety days prior to the set date, and my good friend Bom, who was one of the producers behind the special production, gave us the best seats in the theater. We sat front and center, and Marc Cohen, as I would like to see it, was just a hug away.

Now unlike the King who knows the musical by heart, I know zip. So while he sang and emphatized, while the rest of the audience laughed when this girl mooed, I remained still, mesmerized. I tried to take it all in but the aesthetically pleasing element of the play was a bit distracting. As of this writing, I can barely remember a scene but ask me about the lead and I'll tell you that that he was so cute. I mean good of course, as in I-want-to-be-like-him-when-I-grow-up good, and/or cute. Thinking about it makes me feel like I'm seventeen again.

But this is not about Rent, and this is not about the King. It is not even a love story. I am not going for a romantic thrill. Still, allow me to share what happened after.

It was a nice evening so the King and I decided to go home by foot. We talked about the musical, and Marc Cohen. We caught up on so many things like month-old stories that we have yet to tell each other. It was just like the old times. Then again, that's always how it is with the King. I would have wanted to have dinner so we can chat longer but he had to go home, so we called it a night.

I was already in my room, a few minutes into an in-depth googling about the play's ensemble, Bom sent me a message. She thanked me for coming. In turn, I congratulated her for a successful investment. It was a sold-out show. Then she said something like, "I don't mean to pry and you don't have to answer if you're not comfortable, are you two together?"

I can't say that I was surprised. Clearly, going out on Valentine's Day wasn't the most well-thought plan but I am pretty sure we were anything but romantic. I opted to ask, "What made you say that?"

"You have a certain glow. You were perky and bubbly. I haven't seen you like that before, and I am so happy for you. If you want to, you can invite him to my wedding." She replied.

"What?! No! Haha. We're just friends." I answered back. But wow, I have a certain glow. I thought.

The King sent me a message later that evening. "Fredison Lo."

"I know." I said smiling to myself.

one night

The room was quiet even with our slow rhythmic breathing, and the silence was only broken when the sheets rustled as I turned to my side to face him. A soft stream of moonlight spilled through the window and illumined his form – arms up behind the head, eyes closed; his chest rose and fell in a steady beat. I watched until he spoke.

"Tell me something."

"What about," I asked.

"What will you miss most about this?" He said. "About me?'

"I can't believe you're asking me that." I said feigning disbelief.

"No, no." He turned to face me. His right hand reached for my arm. The fingers brushed against my skin. I looked into his eyes. It shone with a certain warm radiance. His lips curved to a gentle smile as he said, "Just humor me, please?"

"Does it have to be just one?"

"No, but don't give it much thought. Just say what's on the top of your head." He said as I felt his hand at the side of my face. "Here, let me go first," he added. "I will miss the way you say 'I know'." He grinned as he leaned forward. "Ang arte-arte kasi."

"I know!" I said as I laughed.

"See." He smiled.

"Right, but that's it? That's all that you're going to miss?"

"Of course not. I'll miss a lot of things. I'll miss your voice. You know how much I love hearing it. Salita ka nga."

"Ewan ko sa'yo!"

We both laughed.

"You know, I might even miss you." He grinned, delighted at his teasing. "But I won't. We don't have to miss each other."

"We don't?" But what about...

"We don't." He whispered as he held me in his arms, and as he closed the space in between, I tried to hold my heart in mine.