My Mr. Right

When I was young, my friends and I would write descriptions of our Mr. Right. I couldn’t help but recall those days. We got our crumpled notes and started digging some available space to write into. I usually have it bulleted something like this

• Tall
• Dark
• Handsome
• Gentleman

With these characteristics in mind, we would swoon to every “Mr. Right” in the campus and start blinking some lashes just to catch their attention. But wait a minute, we were not like those blonde girls you see on TV. We were subtle on our quest for Mr. Right. We can’t afford to be caught love struck, can we? We have female dignity to protect. We had crushes and not so much of boyfriends. Well, those were the days.

             Time really changes us. There is no escaping from it.

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Care for a Ride?

My father used to live in a mountain but my Lola stays there even until now. When I was a kid, the thought of traveling to mountains creeps me out (although I always love to meet my Lola). Especially if I think of a particular ride that my father used to dub the fastest transportation to heaven – the Habal-habal. I swore to myself that I would never ever ride such a crap. Don’t ask me why. It’s just that the thought of me taking that ride, scares me. So, I usually walked it from the highway up to such a steep and rocky road to my father’s place.

          But fate has played on me. I guess it’s true that the more you hate something, the closer it gets to you.

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